Chapter Text
Napolean was far later than he'd intended to be. He'd overslept – only by a few minutes, though – and had managed to catch up by skipping his morning coffee, only to get outside and realize that the road was a sheet of ice and traffic was miserable. His morning flirtation with the girl at the front was only a fleeting thing of seconds. And yet Waverly was wrapping up when he arrived.
“So,” the Head was saying to Illya, who of course had been right on time and was seated leisurely at the conference table, “you'll fly out to meet her, and escort her back here. Then she'll be able to think about what to do, in a place of relative safety.” He looked up at the sound of Napolean's footsteps. “Oh, there you are,” Waverly said, as placidly as ever. “I was beginning to be afraid that something had happened to you.”
Illya turned to look at him. “Oh, I'm sure it's only the usual,” he said by way of a greeting.
“Anyway, we've begun already,” Waverly continued. “Actually we've finished already. Only one of you is needed at this point, and I'd decided to send Mr. Kuryakin before the meeting was supposed to begin.” Waverly looked at his watch. “He knows the language, after all.” He turned to Illya. “Is there anything further to discuss?”
“It seems relatively straight-forward,” Illya said. He looked slyly at Napolean. “Only - - well, biology isn't really my field, sir. It's much more Napolean's line, wouldn't you say?”
“I'd say you need all the practice you can get, old friend,” Napolean said smoothly.
Standing up, Illya grinned. “This assignment will give me a chance to read up on this research. I'd been meaning to; it's quite interesting in its own right.” He hurried out of the room as if he couldn't wait to be off.
Napolean wasn't going on the mission, but he did want to know what was going on. He sat down in the seat Illya had just vacated. “What's all this about, sir?”
“A Ukranian scientist was killed yesterday,” Waverly said, stacking together the papers he'd just been using. “He was attempting to map the human genome. His laboratory exploded – which was completely unanticipated since he was working with nothing of an explosive nature – and his assistant was able to save only a few scraps of his research. She contacted us yesterday, asking for protection, and under the circumstances we could hardly refuse her, could we?”
Napolean frowned thoughtfully. “Do we suspect THRUSH? What interest would they have in the human genome?”
“We know it's THRUSH – they may as well have left their calling card,” Waverly looked up. “They've had a research program in eugenics for years – that's common knowledge. Obviously if someone was to map the human genome, it would be a great deal of help.” He put the papers away, and got out a new set. “It's this fellow that was killed that was the surprise. Bit of a sleeper, so to speak. According to his assistant they were very close to a breakthrough.” He sat down in his chair at the front of the room.
“So why kill the scientist? Why not kidnap him? That would be more like THRUSH.”
“Yes, the explosion was a terrible waste – I suspect it was an accident. Perhaps a thwarted kidnapping attempt. Anyway, we'll bring the assistant here, and see what she has to say for herself. Now, in the meantime, I have an entirely unrelated assignment for you. Have you heard of Brother Ludwig?” Waverly put the new papers down and spun the table in Napolean's direction.
“The UNCLE Austria agent that defected in order to join the church?” Napolean caught the folder and opened it.
“I wouldn't exactly call it defecting, to become a monk... the church is not the enemy, after all,” Waverly said wryly, “but, yes, that's the general idea. He's been living alone, somewhere near the border of Czechoslovakia, and we have reason to believe his life is in danger. You'll go and find him, and try to convince him to come back with you, at least for a little while.”
Napolean raised an eyebrow. “Somewhere near the border?”
Waverly smiled. “I'm sure you'll manage,” he said.