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Illya Kuryakin shifted uncomfortably on the damp ground before dropping the binoculars from his eyes. “It’s no use,” he said, frustration turning the words into a deep growl. “I can’t see a thing.”
Another warm front had swept unexpectedly through the area, blanketing the valley below the two agents with dense fog. Despite the glow of a full moon, the fog partially obscured the Russian, lying on his stomach five feet to Napoleon’s left. The THRUSH compound, at least a hundred yards below them on the valley floor, might as well have been across the Atlantic so completely was it hidden from sight.
Similar fog had descended on the area every time an UNCLE surveillance team had come close to the THRUSH outpost. It wasn’t lost on the two top operatives that whoever was in charge of the activities being conducted there had either amazing luck or, improbably, the ability to control weather patterns.
“We have to get into that lab,” Napoleon said, still peering intently through his own binoculars as though he was studying something other than blank whiteness. While the intelligence that UNCLE had managed to gather didn’t provide many details, Mr Waverly had obtained enough pieces of this particular puzzle to convince him that there was a scientific project here creating a significant threat to the world’s safety.
Before the Russian agent had a chance to argue, there was a cacophony of barks and snarls from the direction of the THRUSH facility. The sounds weren’t completely unexpected, since all three early surveillance teams had reported the probable presence of guard dogs. The volume was startling, though, after the near silence of the past thirty minutes. It was almost as though the dogs had suddenly burst into existence … or more likely had just been set loose for their nighttime patrol. Whether they were patrolling inside or outside the chain link fence surrounding the compound’s four buildings was an unanswered question.
“Unless visibility improves, we might miss the buildings completely,” Illya said, his voice barely audible. “Or we could walk straight into THRUSH goons or one of those guard dogs. Dogs don’t need to see us, they can detect us by smell.”
Napoleon finally lowered the binoculars, turning his head toward his partner.
“Don’t give me that look, Napoleon.” Illya met his friend’s carefully neutral gaze with a mutinous scowl. “Not throwing myself into the path of a hundred pound beast that has been trained to attack intruders no more indicates that I am afraid of dogs than not throwing myself into the sights of a THRUSH rifle indicates that I am afraid of guns. It’s a simple matter of self preservation.”
“We don’t know how big or how well trained the dogs are,” Napoleon said, keeping his muted voice conversational despite the danger signals tingling across his scalp and neck. Truthfully, despite his occasional ribbing of his partner on the subject of canines, he was none too anxious to encounter a pack of guard dogs, well trained or not. At best, the beasts would give away the position of the UNCLE agents, leading to their capture or ignominious retreat. At worst, they might inflict serious, even fatal, injuries.
The words had barely left his lips when eerie howls filled the night air, echoed by another chorus of loud canine barks. He turned his head, trying to determine the source of the howls but having little success other than the impression that he and Illya were between the two groups of animals. And that the barking was definitely coming from the direction of the unseen compound below them.
“I don’t recall reading that there are wolves in this area.” Illya, too, was glancing around their position, his eyes narrowed. The two men were fairly well camouflaged by boulders, scrubby trees and the encroaching fog. None of those things, though, would provide protection against either loose dogs or a pack of hungry predators.
“I’ve seen a few reports of wolves, but they’re supposed to be rare,” Napoleon said, managing to keep his voice calm despite an uncomfortable increase in his heart rate.
“Not nearly rare enough.” The response was barely more than a whisper, breathed out as the Russian agent pulled his lithe body into a crouch. “And since the wolves seem to be between us and the car,” he added, gesturing vaguely up the rock strewn incline in the direction they had left their nondescript sedan, carefully hidden in the underbrush along a winding rural roadway, “you are going to get your wish.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve never wished to become someone’s dinner.” Napoleon’s kept his tone carefully nonchalant, but he followed his partner’s example in preparing his body to spring into action. The process was a bit more difficult than expected after more than half an hour lying on the uneven ground. His cramped muscles protested as he shifted into a matching defensive crouch.
“No, but you do wish to get closer to the compound. And since it seems to be in the opposite direction of our new admirers, I will accede to your desire to move down this slope despite the lack of visibility.”
“Well, you know, I don’t think it’s quite accurate to say that I wish to get closer to the compound,” Napoleon said, brushing at the dirt and twigs adhering to the front of his dark nylon jacket. “It’s more a case that I don’t wish to hear Waverly’s lecture if we don’t manage to get inside. He’s already invested a lot of manpower and resources in trying to find out what THRUSH is working on here, and he won’t be happy if we return to headquarters empty handed.” Without further discussion, he began moving down the slope, knowing without needing to look that his partner was a few steps behind him.
It was slow going. Stealth would have been difficult enough given the steepness of the descent and the uneven terrain. Loose rocks made it nearly impossible to reach the valley floor without slipping and sliding. The fog further complicated matters, since they could only see clearly for a short distance and had to pause frequently to get their bearings and listen for danger both ahead and behind.
It seemed to take hours to cover the distance to the chain link fence they knew, from aerial photographs, surrounded a cluster of small concrete block buildings. Luckily, lights from the exterior walls provided a slight improvement in visibility by the time they finally came within sight of the wrought iron gate.
Having seen neither guards nor dogs, they quietly agreed to a few minutes of reconnaissance before breaching the fence. Napoleon turned automatically to the right and Illya to the left, searching for a point where they’d have the best cover for their planned infiltration.
They’d been apart for less than ten minutes when Napoleon’s communicator gave a single short vibration, the agreed upon signal should one of them find something of interest requiring investigation. Mentally thanking the UNCLE research section for this recent and highly useful equipment update, Napoleon turned back and began scanning the perimeter of the compound for his partner,
This close to the fence, the damp earth was soft and had been swept clear of rocks and loose gravel. After following the faint impression of the Russian’s footprints for about fifty feet from the point they had separated, Napoleon was puzzled to see the prints turn sharply back up the incline, away from the fence and buildings. He climbed about thirty feet in that direction before seeing a glimmer of movement near a large formation of boulders.
After a few seconds of observation, he spotted the other UNCLE agent climbing nimbly among the rocks, his attention focused on something hidden low to the ground among them.
Napoleon had almost reached Illya’s side when a low moan, in the direction of the THRUSH lab, caused him to pivot back toward the fence. The sight that met his incredulous eyes caused him to freeze in position, blinking rapidly as though doing so would erase the vision before him.
The heavy fog almost completely obscured the buildings, but floating above the flat rooftops was a specter from a horror movie … the vaporous head and torso of an unearthly being, eyes glowing from its elongated skull and ghostly fingers reaching toward him.
Napoleon pulled in a sharp breath, shook his head, and stared again.
He didn’t realize he was standing stock still until his partner’s hand on the sleeve of his black jacket startled him, causing him to jerk away from the pressure without turning from the misty figure.
“What is that?” he hissed, not taking his eyes from the wavering form.
“That,” Illya said, managing a snort of derision while keeping his voice nearly inaudible, “is what I believe you would call a distraction.”
“A … ” Napoleon swallowed past the dryness in his throat as he forced his mind from ghost stories and illusions to reality.
“A distraction,” Illya repeated, his hand squeezing Napoleon’s arm in a bracing gesture. “Come with me. I’ve found something very interesting.”
As he turned back to the pile of boulders, Illya asked softly, “Have you noticed that we can no longer hear the dogs?”
Napoleon, turning to follow his friend, realized how quiet the area had become. While the wolfish howls had faded as the two men descended into the valley, the barking had become progressively louder. Now, though, the only sounds were muted moans from the direction of the phantasm above the rooftops.
Illya circled around the formation he had been exploring earlier and climbed atop one of the largest rocks. “There was a loudspeaker attached to the fence about fifty feet from the gate. As soon as I cut a wire, the barking ceased. That made me somewhat suspicious, so I began searching the area and found this.”
The blond agent pointed toward the ground, where Napoleon saw a wide metal vent pipe. Heavy white mist rolled from it and dispersed into the cool air. “I strongly suspect there are neither dogs nor wolves in the vicinity, and this fog is obviously a man made rather than a natural phenomenon.” He climbed agilely down from the boulder, wiping his soiled fingers on his trousers. “It is not at all difficult to create artificial fog. I suspect there are several vents like this one attached to a machine inside the compound. And now your friend there —” he indicated the apparition with a wave of one hand, “is simply a continuation of someone’s efforts to distract and dissuade intruders.”
“So you think THRUSH is trying to, what, frighten the good guys away from the compound?” The idea seemed ludicrous to the senior agent but, then again, he had encountered innumerable ludicrous THRUSH plots over the years so he didn’t know why anything they concocted should surprise him.
“Or simply slow us down,” Illya said in answer to his mostly rhetorical question. “It’s likely there are some guards inside, but I would guess not sufficient numbers even for a facility of this relatively small size. Any distraction would give the guards an advantage.”
“I suppose,” Napoleon said doubtfully, “but I don’t know why they would go to so much trouble.”
Illya shrugged. “Budget considerations, perhaps. After the initial expense of the equipment, there would be very little cost to these measures, where guards have to be fed, housed and paid. And there always seems to be a great deal of competition between various THRUSH factions for whatever research funds are available.”
Napoleon glanced back at the misty apparition, which continued to waver harmlessly in the soft breeze. While he wasn’t particularly superstitious, and he certainly wasn’t easily frightened, the spectre had surprised him enough to stop him in his tracks for several moments. He could think of a few inexperienced junior agents who might have retreated at the sight.
“This setup reminds me of your American film, The Wizard of Oz,” Illya said motioning toward the vent pipe and then toward the compound. “There were a great many impediments to Dorothy and her friends gaining an audience with the famous wizard. Then, once they were admitted to the wizard’s chambers, there were confronted by smoke and flames and a frightening projection. But when they finally looked behind the curtain, they realized they were never in danger.”
Napoleon smiled crookedly, his equilibrium restored by his partner’s logic and hid own common sense. “Well, since we don’t appear to be in any danger yet either, I suggest we go look behind that curtain.”
*** MFU *** MFU *** MFU *** MFU *** MFU ***
The two agents made good time infiltrating the THRUSH compound. The swirling fog actually helped them creep along the outer fence unobserved until they found a perfect spot to make a discreet cut in the chain link and crawl through undetected.
They encountered no guards on the short sprint from the fence to a side door. The lock gave way without protest to one of Illya’s most simple lock picks, and the three inattentive guards they encountered in the hallways between the outer door and the entrance to the darkened lab soon found themselves sleeping peacefully in empty rooms and utility closets.
The lock on the lab door, like the one on the outer door, opened with very little finessing. The two agents crept into the room with their flashlights focused low to the floor, so there was little chance of a random streak of light showing through the highset windows on the outer wall.
According to their plan, Illya immediately began a systematic search of desk drawers and filing cabinets, gathering information on the experiments being conducted, while Napoleon began a careful sweep of the perimeter walls, disabling smoke detectors and closing air vents to give the two agents as much unhindered evacuation time as possible after setting the explosive charges needed to permanently end THRUSH operations at this location.
The senior agent was methodically working his way down the third wall, when his flashlight caught a pair of bright, dark eyes staring at him from behind sturdy metal bars. A few quick sweeps of the light showed two more pairs of eyes inside a second sturdy cage.
“Um, Illya,” he said, his voice an urgent whisper. “Were we expecting to find monkeys in this lab?” He mentally cast his mind back through the dozens of THRUSH labs he had entered, either as a prisoner, a rescuer, or a saboteur. He could only recall a few that had housed animals of any kind … and none that had contained primates.
But these were unquestionably monkeys, not man made apparitions — three dark, hairless, almost human faces outlined in silky white fur. The largest of the monkeys was not much over two feet tall, with a sinewy body, disproportionately long limbs, and an even longer tail. It couldn’t have weighed more than ten pounds. The other two were similar in overall appearance but smaller.
Napoleon, his eyes riveted to the unexpected occupants of the lab, felt his partner step close and turned his head to gauge the Russian’s reaction. “It seems that THRUSH added monkeys to their Wizard of Oz theatrics,” he said, not trying to hide his puzzlement. “Although these are a lot smaller than the monkeys in the movie.”
Illya quietly studied the creatures, his eyes taking on the scientific glint the other agent knew so well. “You realize, of course, the monkeys in the movie were played by human actors,” he said, tipping his head to one side, lips twitching in amusement when the smallest of the three animals mirrored the gesture. “They were not actually simians.”
“I know. I’ve probably seen The Wizard of Oz a dozen times.” Napoleon could clearly remember his first viewing of the iconic film. He had been seven when it had first appeared in American theaters, and he could still almost feel his youthful awe at special effects that were, in the late 1930s, marvels of cinematic technology. “What I don’t understand, though, is why THRUSH has these little guys in a hidden laboratory.”
“Little girls,” the Russian said matter-of-factly, his brow furrowing as he continued to watch the animals.
Napoleon’s narrowed his eyes skeptically. Even with the glow of two flashlights, it was too dim to see details of the animals’ anatomy. Further, his multi-talented partner was a physicist, not a biologist, and Napoleon had studied every detail of his personnel file before they began working together. The file contained no hint that Illya had ever conducted or even witnessed experiments on live animals. “Oh?” he said, wondering whether the often droll Russian was pulling his leg. “How could you possibly know that?”
“These are green monkeys,” Illya said, sounding more like a professor than a prankster. He moved his light slowly over the three creatures, clearly not wanting to startle or frighten them, and Napoleon could easily discern a slight greenish tint to the golden brown coats. “Green monkeys are sexually dimorphic, meaning you can distinguish between mature male and female specimens by visual examination. The largest of these appears to be an adult female, although the other two are slightly smaller and are probably adolescents.”
The size disparity was apparent even to Napoleon, but in the poorly lit cages he couldn’t perceive any other obvious difference. “Other than size, they look pretty much the same to me.”
“Even you would notice the difference if one of these animals was a mature male,” Illya said, although he didn’t explain further until challenged by the senior agent’s raised brow and disbelieving look. “The, ah, genital area of an adult male would be ….” His pale cheeks flushed slightly, evidence of old world modesty which his more openly carnal partner found endearing, “… bright blue.”
With effort, Napoleon resisted the urge to lower his flashlight’s beam to illuminate the area south of the largest monkey’s hairy abdomen. Instead, he cleared his throat and forced himself to focus on a more important point. “Do you happen to have an educated guess as to why THRUSH would have taken up monkey keeping?”
Illya spent a good ten seconds pondering the question before he shook his head. “It is impossible to know, without studying logs and notes describing the experiments conducted here. Green monkeys are often used in medical research, as they share many genetic similarities with humans. THRUSH, however, has never shown any hesitation to do medical tests on human subjects, especially if there are UNCLE agents available to fill that role.”
That was certainly true. Napoleon had rarely met a THRUSH scientist who didn’t relish the opportunity to try out his or her newest invention on any available enemy. Just their luck to come across the exception to that rule in a remote laboratory, because — “We can’t burn down the lab and leave them in these cages to die.”
Illya sighed. “We also cannot release them. We don’t know whether THRUSH has injected them with an infectious agent or conditioned them in some way that might pose a danger to humans. And even if we knew such was not the case, it would be cruel to turn them loose.” At Napoleon’s puzzled frown, he added an explanation. “Green monkeys are native to Africa, but most of the ones in this country were born in captivity. They would not know how to find food, water or shelter, even if they could survive in this climate zone. Releasing them would likely lead to a slow death by exposure or a slower one from starvation.”
His friend’s face was cooly impassive, but Napoleon knew the blond agent was feeling far from happy about the situation. Under an often icy exterior, the Russian had a decided soft spot for the small, the innocent, and the vulnerable. “I know you aren’t suggesting we kill them.”
“I don’t want to do that, no. They are, after all, completely innocent of whatever plot THRUSH might be hatching here. I’m simply saying it might not be feasible to save them, since the only other possibility will be to carry them to the car and take them with us back to headquarters.” He sighed again, a flicker of unease visible behind the determined professionalism in his blue eyes. “If they cannot be saved, I would prefer their deaths not be both painful and terrifying.”
The UNCLE agents couldn’t let that happen, but Napoleon thought there was a more obvious solution to the problem. “We can dart them.”
The Russian shook his head decisively. “Our sleep darts are calibrated for use on humans with an average weight of 150 pounds, although I believe they have been safety tested on subjects with weights as low as one hundred pounds. The largest of these creatures weighs about ten pounds, the other two less. The amount of sedative in one of our sleep darts would probably kill them. Although perhaps that would be the most humane thing to do.”
Napoleon turned to examine the three primates again. None of them was as large as the office cat, which wasn’t itself a large animal. And even though he could detect some wariness in their dark eyes, they seemed reasonably calm, even curious. “Well, they’re small. We should be able to carry them.”
“They are not large animals, but monkeys have sharp teeth and nails. We don’t know how frequently these have been handled or how gently. It is quite possible they will not cooperate in our efforts to remove them from the only home they know, however inadequate it might be.”
“We have to at least try,” Napoleon said, exuding more confidence and determination than he actually felt. While he didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of the creatures, he didn’t relish the thought of ending this affair covered in painful bites and scratches.
Illya smiled, although the effort looked forced. “It is possible that the famous Solo charm will work on females of a closely related species.”
Napoleon rolled his eyes. “I hardly think that charming a beautiful woman is the same as charming a monkey.”
A flicker of mischief softened Illya’s expression. “Perhaps not, but I understand that you made quite a first impression on the gorilla we came across last year in Africa. I didn’t witness your initial interaction with the animal, but the young ladies told me you—”
“Don’t say it.” Napoleon cut off his partner’s comment with a raised hand and an internal shudder. That was one affair he would much prefer to forget. He’d managed to avoid describing the most embarrassing minutes of his encounter with the gorilla in his mission report, and he hadn’t realized until this moment that Illya had known the details all along. “I’ll do my best to help, ah, wrangle monkeys, but I draw the line at discussing Baby.” He spoke in his sternest CEA voice but ruined whatever credibility he might have achieved by motioning rather helplessly at the cages. “Although she was the only primate I’ve ever … ah … met, so I’m not really sure what I need to do here.”
“A degree in Quantum Mechanics doesn’t exactly make me an expert in simian psychology,” Illya said with only the slightest hint of sarcasm. “My guess is that this one,” he focused the beam of his flashlight on the largest monkey, who was staring at them from a back corner of her cage, “might be the most difficult of the three. I suggest that I finish setting charges while you determine whether she is—” he paused, his lips twitching in a slightly more natural smile, “susceptible. If so, I will try to, as you say, wrangle the other two.”
After Illya faded into the darkened lab, Napoleon focused self-consciously on the largest monkey. It was ridiculous, he knew, but he felt awkward about the suggestion of trying to charm this tiny creature the same way he might seduce a human girl. Flirting with girls was as natural to him as breathing, while this was definitely … not.
Relaxing his stance, since he knew many animals could pick up on signs of nervousness in humans, he watched the animal quietly for a few minutes. After giving her as much time as he dared to become accustomed to his presence, he raised his right hand in a tentative wave.
The monkey remained perfectly still, staring back at him with an expression he could only define as suspicious. Trying to look as non-threatening as possible, he moved both empty hands in front of himself and spoke softly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice soft and coaxing. “See—” he wiggled his fingers, “no weapons. Not even any sharp fingernails. I just want to get you out of this lab before it burns down. You wouldn’t like the fire and smoke.”
He was feeling increasingly foolish, holding a one sided conversation with the monkey when Illya finally reappeared at his side.
“Try these,” the blond said, handing Napoleon a roll of cherry lifesavers. “I found a box of them in a supply cupboard beside a bag of monkey chow. I would guess they are used as treats.”
Illya opened a second roll of lifesavers, placed one of the candies on his open palm, and cautiously opened the door of the cage housing the smaller monkeys. One of the animals moved toward the agent, reached out and delicately picked up the treat, chittering softly before transferring the candy to her mouth. Illya, equally carefully, reached toward the animal and, when she didn’t shy away, lifted her from the cage and held her against his shirt, where she snuggled contentedly against his chest. Once he had repeated the maneuver with the second young monkey, he zipped his jacket around them, then turned to Napoleon, one brow raised questioningly.
Napoleon mentally braced himself as he turned back to the remaining monkey. He watched her dark eyes flicker from the roll of candies, to the Russian’s bulging jacket, and back to the candies. Then he opened the roll and mirrored his partner’s actions, opening the cage and offering the treat. She stared at him for a long moment before swiping the lifesaver from his hand. Then she flung herself forward against his chest, both long hairy arms tightly encircling his neck.
“She seems to like you,” Illya said as he watched Napoleon zip his jacket over the animal, a process hindered both by her stranglehold around his throat and the hair tickling his mouth and nose.
“Shut up,” Napoleon said with resignation rather than rancor, barely able to see much less speak past the furry head nestled against his chin. “Just set the timer and let’s get out of here.”
*** MFU *** MFU *** MFU *** MFU *** MFU ***
Five hours later, two tired and disheveled agents sat across from Alexander Waverly at the circular table, completing their post-mission debriefing.
“We had no other choice, sir,” Illya said, leaning forward in his chair as he finished describing their escape from the burning THRUSH facility. “Dr Simpson asked us to bring back anything that might shed light on the activities at the THRUSH lab, and as far as we could determine without taking time to examine records, the three primates were important to the research being conducted there.”
“Yes, that does appear to be the case,” Waverly said, not sounding particularly pleased by the admission. “Dr Simpson informed me, while you gentlemen were on your way to my office from Section Eight, that he believes the animals were an integral part of a set of experiments into brain wave alteration. Fortunately, it doesn’t appear the process had reached a point that created any danger.”
“He does want to keep them under observation for a while, sir,” Napoleon said, “but eventually he thinks he’ll be able to place them in a local zoo.”
Waverly frowned as he set aside a small pile of notes and then reached for his favorite briarwood pipe. “I suppose that’s reasonable,” he said, tamping down the tobacco with a bit more force than was probably necessary. “Although we’re hardly set up here for the care of such animals, and none of you gentlemen seem to have the slightest idea of how unusual expenses like animal enclosures impact the annual budget.”
Having finally reached the obligatory budget lecture that came at the end of almost every debriefing, Napoleon sat back and allowed his attention to wander. He glanced surreptitiously at his watch, noting it was barely 7am on Friday morning. He should have plenty of time for a nourishing meal, a hot shower and eight uninterrupted hours of sleep … which would leave him rested and refreshed for whichever of the UNCLE lovelies he could charm into a date for tonight.
He looked up when he heard his partner rise from the chair on his right. “In any case, you are dismissed, Mr Kuryakin,” Waverly was saying. “As soon as you have completed your preliminary report, you may take the rest of the weekend off.”
“Thank you, sir.” The Russian said, turning toward the American agent with an unreadable expression.
“Yes, thank you, sir.” Napoleon rose from his seat in turn, preparing to follow Illya to their office.
“Just a moment, Mr Solo,” Waverly said, glancing up from his pipe and shooting Napoleon a piercing look that made the CEA wonder whether he’d inadvertently daydreamed through important information. “Since you have apparently been thinking of something more urgent than my instructions for the past few minutes, I want to be sure you understand that you are to report back to Section Eight after your report has been completed. I’ve told Dr Simpson you will be at his disposal for the next few days.”
Napoleon wouldn’t have been more surprised if his boss had informed him he was being assigned to a weekend at the reception desk. “Me, sir?,” he said, trying but failing to keep his tone from slipping from calm to incredulous as he glanced from Waverly to his partner and back. “I’m not a scientist, sir, as you know. I’m not sure what help I can be in the lab.”
Waverly huffed out a long-suffering breath and then resumed the exacting procedure of lighting his pipe. When the tobacco was smoking to his satisfaction, he gave his CEA a long, considering look. “As I mentioned, Dr Simpson has reported that one of the monkeys is quite … bereft at your abandonment and she is creating an unpleasant commotion downstairs. Since you have had considerable success in handling her, you’ll be at the disposal of Section Eight until they have set up appropriate accommodations for her containment.”
“But, sir…” he began before stumbling to a halt, unable to think of any argument. The monkey’s shrieks of protest as she had been pried from his chest, still rang in his abused ears.
“Don’t worry, Napoleon,” Illya said soothingly. “It shouldn’t take more than a few days for Dr Simpson to obtain appropriate cages, and Section Eight can set them up in one of the interrogation rooms. Those are sound controlled, so even if the monkey continues to mourn after you leave her, her grief won’t cause further disturbance.”
Napoleon glared at the Russian, certain that behind a serious façade, the man was quietly laughing at him. “Thanks a bunch,” he said sourly. Even knowing the situation wasn’t his partner’s fault and that he would be equally amused if their positions were reversed didn’t take the sting out of being put on babysitting duty for the weekend.
“Perhaps after I’ve had a few hours of rest, I will bring you a radio,” Illya said, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve read that music is often soothing to animals, and you’ve had some experience in teaching primates to dance”
The End