Rating: All ages.
Category: Humour (hopefully).
Reviewed by Anushka, with many thanks.
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and make no
money from my writing. I only wish to borrow the characters for a short while.
It was lunchtime and the commissary was alive with hungry customers anxious
for refreshment and a well earned break from their jobs. Many conversations
mingled together creating a gentle hum that was occasionally broken by a
burst of laughter or the clinking of crockery.
The commissary was warm and the atmosphere friendly, providing a safe haven
for the personnel that used it. Which the staff at U.N.C.L.E. New York headquarters
regarded as a luxury.
Three young people sat at a table, deep in conversation. One a beautiful
auburn haired female and her companions were two blond males.
Illya Kuryakin rarely went to the commissary at midday; he found it too busy,
preferring the quieter times when he could reflect on his private thoughts
as he ate. Today however, April Dancer and Mark Slate had just returned from
their assignment in the Balkans and had invited the Russian to join them
for lunch.
"I'm relieved the assignment went well." Illya commented after Mark finished
relaying the details of his and April's recent mission.
"Yes, Mr. Waverly was very pleased with the outcome." Mark spoke proudly.
"And we completed the assignment without too many bumps or bruises, unlike
you usually do." The Brit pointedly looked at Illya.
"That is probably because our assignments are much more dangerous than yours."
Illya responded coldly, his intense blue eyes boring into the Brit.
Mark shivered as he caught the look and was about to apologise when he noted
the beginnings of a smile grace the young Soviet's lips. Mark chuckled nervously,
unsure of Kuryakin's mood.
April Dancer observing the exchange, gently smacked Illya's hand, "Leave
Mark alone, and don't bother using that stare on me, I'm not so easily fooled
as Mark. You're just a cuddly pussycat."
Mark stared at his partner, not sure he'd heard correctly the description
April had just given of Illya Kuryakin. 'Cuddly pussycat! Huh! Ferocious
Siberian Tiger more like!' he thought quietly to himself.
"Where is Napoleon? I thought he was going to join you for lunch." April
continued.
"I believe he is still in his meeting with Mr. Waverly." Illya suggested.
"That's been going on for ages." Mark observed. "If he doesn't hurry up,
you'll have eaten all the food in the commissary." Slate decided to risk
teasing the 'pussycat' again.
Illya didn't react to the comment, instead he agreed with Mark. "Yes, he
has been a long time."
"I suppose being Chief Enforcement Agent he has a lot to discuss with the
Old Man?" April concluded.
At that moment the door to the commissary slid open and Napoleon Solo charged
in. The usually suave section two agent stormed angrily over to April, Mark
and Illya, his face red and body tense with barely controlled fury. As he
reached the table he slammed a folder down on top of it, causing Mark and
April to jump. Illya, however, remained absolutely still.
Napoleon fixed the young Russian with a murderous glare. "Alright Rasputin!
What exactly is this?" Solo stabbed at the folder he'd just slammed down.
Illya glanced at the indicated file. "It's a standard issue, mission report
folder, Napoleon."
Solo leant forward so he was almost nose-to-nose with Illya. "I know that
TOVARISCH, but what did you DO to it!"
"Do, Napoleon? I'm not sure I understand what you mean." The words sounded
full of wonder and bewilderment.
Straightening up again but without taking his eyes off Kuryakin, Napoleon
picked up the folder and thrust it into his partner's hand. "You did something
to my report!"
With great care as if handling a bomb Illya opened the file and turned each
page, examining the paper with intense interest. Finally he closed the file
and laid it gently on to the tabletop. "The pages are blank Napoleon." He
offered after a moment's thought.
"I KNOW!" Napoleon's outburst silenced the chatter in the room instantly.
Mark stared wide-eyed at Solo; he'd never seen the CEA so annoyed. April
ducked her head so she couldn't make eye contact with the senior agent and
receive a share of the tirade aimed at Illya.
Realising he was the centre of attention, Napoleon lowered his voice as he
continued to address Kuryakin. "I know the pages are blank… Now, but they
weren't an hour ago, when I completed my handwritten report on the Vernon
Delfina Affair, on the paper in this very file. So Illya Nickovetch, what
did you do to this folder?"
"If I might remind you Napoleon, you acquired this folder yourself from Stationery,
this morning. As I recall you were going to 'discuss' headed notepaper with…
er… Shirley or was it Karen? When you returned to the office you had the
folder and proceeded to write in it. I did not have an opportunity to touch
it, let alone 'do' anything to it."
April studied the young Russian as he spoke. His large, liquid, blue eyes
gazed up at Napoleon, and he frowned slightly causing him to appear like
a lost, vulnerable little boy. This was the 'look' that made the females
at U.N.C.L.E. want to take the Russian home and mother him, thoroughly.
Napoleon glared at Illya, "I know you did something!" His tone was murderously
low. "And due to your interference I have just endured a long, searing lecture
from Mr. Waverly concerning the foolishness of wasting his time!"
"Really?" Illya sounded so sweetly innocent that April knew he'd been up
to mischief.
"Yes, really! Oh Illya, it was such a treat to watch the Old Man turn the
pages of my report and see his face grow red with rage. I welcomed his demand
for an explanation as to why I gave him a blank report! I enjoyed the reprimand
he delivered with such fire and ferocity. He all but made me stand in the
corner with my face to the wall!" Napoleon was struggling to keep his temper
in check. "Mr. Waverly has strongly suggested I use the rest of the day to
write the Vernon Delfina report rather than indulge in childish pranks!"
April saw Illya's eyes glitter with devilment and the Russian was clearly
trying not to laugh out loud. She was convinced Kuryakin was involved in
Solo's misfortune. With her most graceful smile, April addressed Solo. "Napoleon,
why don't you sit down? Perhaps between us we can work out what happened
to your report. After all, I'm sure Illya wouldn't have done anything to
it." April directed her disbelieving stare at the young Russian agent.
Napoleon complied with April's suggestion and sat at the table but he kept
a sharp eye on Illya.
"Why don't we go over the events that took place in your office when you
returned from Stationery with the file?" April proposed.
"I sat at my desk and wrote my report!" Napoleon snapped irritably.
Remaining composed April gently continued. "Of course Napoleon, but did you
do that as soon as you arrived back at your office? Or did you do anything
else… get a glass of water, for example?"
"Forgive me April," Napoleon began, sounding contrite then sat back in his
chair and attempted to recall his movements after he'd entered his office
earlier that day. "I put the folder on my desk… said hi to Illya who was
sitting writing at his own desk." Napoleon's forehead creased as he struggled
to remember "I sat down at my desk… No… I borrowed Illya's pen, then I sat
down and started to write. Once the report was written I took it directly
to Mr. Waverly's office."
In unison April and Mark turned to look at the Russian and for the first
time since Napoleon stormed into the commissary, Illya looked uncomfortable.
"Er… Napoleon did you use a fountain pen?" Mark inquired.
"Yes, of course."
"Illya's fountain pen?" April added.
"Yes, he always uses a fountain pen…" Realisation started to dawn as Napoleon
slowly joined April and Mark in staring at Illya. "You had invisible ink
in your pen!"
For the briefest of moments Illya seemed like a naughty boy caught in the
act of a misdeed. Then he faced all three agents and spoke calmly, "Of course."
Napoleon was back on his feet in an instant and gripped Illya firmly by the
shoulders. "Why, you little…!"
"I've told you not to borrow my pens!" Kuryakin defended his actions.
"So help me, Rasputin, I ought to…!" Napoleon growled.
"You never return my pens, Napoleon! I decided I ought to teach you a lesson.
Maybe now you won't be so keen to take them in future!"
Napoleon released his grip on Illya, picked up the file from the table and
tossed it into the Russian's lap. "Teach me a lesson, eh? Well junior, I
think you're the one who's going to learn a lesson? The one that states it
is not wise to play pranks on your superior!"
Illya stared horrified at Solo he grasped the folder and held it close to
his body tucking it under his jacket. Wrapping his arms around himself in
a protective fashion, he displayed an air of vulnerability. April wanted
to hug him despite his mischief making.
Undaunted Napoleon continued, his tone sickly sweet. "You, my dear Illya,
can write the Vernon Delfina report and as I have no wish to encounter Mr.
Waverly again, you can take it to him when you have completed it."
"But it could take hours Napoleon…" Illya exclaimed, searching Solo's face
with round, shimmering blue eyes for a hint of mercy.
"No you don't." Napoleon scolded. "You'll finish that report and hand it
to the Old Man before you can go home."
"So I can go home when I've delivered the written report to Mr. Waverly?"
"Yes." Solo answered firmly.
Removing the folder from beneath his jacket, Illya opened it sadly and studied
the pages. Quite suddenly a huge grin lit up his face. "I'll see you all
later then, when you finish work!" Illya rose abruptly from his seat and
started toward the door. "I'll deliver this to Mr. Waverly then I might take
a walk in the park, perhaps find a coffee shop, or.…"
"Illya…!" Napoleon growled.
"Don't worry about the report… Sir." Kuryakin opened the file for the CEA,
revealing a page full of Napoleon's handwriting. With a wicked grin, Illya
turned several pages and all were covered with Solo's neat script.
"Wwhat?" Napoleon stammered.
"Oh, Napoleon, the ink is a concoction I devised. It remains visible for
about two hours before it fades. It then remains invisible until it comes
into contact with body heat. The ink is then restored and becomes permanent."
As he spoke Illya slowly backed towards the door. "So I'll just hand this
to Mr. Waverly, I'll tell him that one of the secretaries found it and gave
it to me for safe keeping…!" Illya abruptly ceased his explanation and bolted
through the opening door as Napoleon lunged toward him.
"Why, you little Russian elf! When I get my hands on you I'll…!" Solo stormed
after Kuryakin.
Mark and April stared after them. For a few moments the two sat in silence
until Mark posed a question to his partner. "April, do they actually like
each other?"
With a knowing smile April answered, "Yes, Mark. Illya and Napoleon are partners,
friends but above all brothers. And I for one am very glad to know them.
With a chuckle Mark agreed. "Me too April. Me too."