The Final Affair

'Illya – are you all right?'

'The bed has good springs, but the concussions make my head ache. And ›I find it hard to focus in the dark. Where are you?'

'Over here, near where the chair was. I'm looking for the phone pack. Here it is.'

'Where's Myron?'

'Tucked in a corner, fast asleep. He's as safe as we are.'

Another shell struck nearby and the room shuddered. A moment later the phone bell clattered.

'U.N.C.L.E. Field Base J for-Joan. Go ahead.'

'What would you have done if this hadn't been me?'

'I'd've thought of a good one quick. Where are you?'

'At the door of Room 39. I'm about to blow my way in and thought I'd check the phone first. There's no particular-' The phone cut off.

Joan listened. Silence pressed against her ear, and only the distant sound of intermittent gunfire outside filled the quiet. Something exploded far away towards the front of the house, more felt than heard. 'Napoleon? I've lost your signal…'

'What is it?' Illya asked, struggling to raise himself on his good elbow.

'I don't know,' said Joan. 'He's there, but-

'Hey, are you still there?'

'Where would I go?'

'Sorry for dropping you like that but a couple of Guards were on their way past and wondered what I was doing. And- Hah! There goes the door. Okay… stay with me now…

'What's going on?' Illya insisted.

'He had to shoot a couple of Guards – just blew the door to Room 39.

He's going inside now.'

'What does it look like? Any exposed controls at all?'

'What do you see?' Joan prompted.

'Not much. There's a grey metal wall panel which makes this room about half as deep as Illya's.'

'Any instruments, controls, signs, etcetera?'

'Nothing. '

'Nothing,' Joan relayed. 'It fills half the room, though.'

'There's a couple of small panels with counter-sunk screws. I didn't see them until I looked closely.'

'Ask him if there are any access panels.'

'He just found a couple.'

'Tell him to open them. They probably aren't booby-trapped – you needn't mention the idea.'

'Ask Illya if I should open them.

'He just said you should. Look you two are reading each other's minds anyway. Illya can hold the phone himself.'

'Okay. I'll be busy for a while but the round end of your nail file fits these screw heads pretty well. I'll ring you back after I get one off. Hey which one should I takeoff first? One is eye level on the far right and the other is halfway to the left about a foot above the floor. And they're both about a foot on a side.'

Joan relayed the data to Illya, who said, 'Tell him… No, give me the phone. Hello, Napoleon – open the upper one first if it's got an insulated edge around it. The lower one's probably something -'

An explosion on the floor above dropped blocks of stone from their ceiling and stunned them for a moment. When Illya found the phone under his right shoulder, it was saying tinnily, 'Hello? Illya? Hello? Are you still there?'

'Right here, Napoleon. All okay. Call me before you do anything else after opening the panel.'

'There's no insulation showing on either of them.'

'Take the upper one anyway.'

'Check. Upper right panel. I'll call you back.

Illya let the handset drop to his pillow wearily. 'He's working on it,' he said. 'He'll call us back.' His voice was strained, and his breathing irregular.

There was only the endless distant sound of war overhead and the occasional shocks of explosions which had lost their power to terrify. Joan knelt on the plaster-sharded floor beside the metal frame bed and leaned her head against it, suddenly tired. It was quiet for several seconds, and then Illya said, 'Joan?'

'Yes?'

'I'm getting a little fuzzy. You'd better talk to me, so I can stay awake. Napoleon should be calling back in a couple of minutes – and I have the feeling if I let go now I might not be very easy to wake up. So talk to me. What was going on outside when you came in?'

'Our main-assault force was ashore and moving in. Something was burning, down beyond the Long Buildings.'

'What happened in the powerhouse after Sanders tripped the alarm? Do you have any idea?'

'Oh, yes; Goldin made it out. Sanders managed to accomplish the target and took out a Guard and himself in the process. Medal of Honor material.'

'Worthy of him. I wonder how Napoleon's doing…'

'Illya, I'd like to ask you some questions. If you don't mind -'

'What do you mean?'

'You've worked with Napoleon for six years. According to your personal files you are each other's closest friends – and this business tends to discourage such things. And now that I've found him again after all these years – and so close to losing him forever – I wish you could tell me what he's really like, now.'

There was silence for a moment before Illya said, 'Actually, I don't think I really know him that well. There has always been much about him that I didn't understand.' He paused, thinking. 'For a long time he was fearless – almost suicidally so. But in the last couple of years he's seemed to sober up. In some respects, I'd say-

The phone rang, and Illya found the handset. 'Kuryakin.'

'There's a valve handle, in a box. Nothing else.'

'Rats. What does it say on the valve handle? Anything stamped or written on it? Is it metal?'

Pause.

'Yeah. Metal, with P.J.V.R. stamped on it. All caps, with periods.'

'Try turning it.'

'It turns in both directions. Shall I leave it centered where it was?'

'No, turn it all the way to the left for good luck,' said Illya. 'And go to work on the other panel.'

'It'll be easier,' said Napoleon cheerfully. 'The lantern's on the floor. I hope it was full of fuel.'

'You may have a little longer, by the way – whoever was knocking at the back door seems to have given up. The dust is settling back here. But don't take all night – there are lots of places I'd rather be.'

'You may be there before you know it. I'll ring back when I get the second panel off. What should I hope to see?'

'Some switches, some wires. Probably a light or two. Call me.' He dropped the phone and slumped back, breathing harshly.

'I just remembered,' he said after a few seconds. 'The rest of the field surgical kit – is in the drawer of that little table – next to the closet. I saw the Guard put it there. Can you find it?'

'Probably,' said Joan, and groped away through the darkness.

'There's some morphine in there. Just get it ready. I can't have any until we're through this, but I'll want it ready. Besides, they gave me adrenalin before Myron started talking to me and it hasn't worn off yet.

'But you wanted to know about Napoleon.. He likes boats – oh, of course he told, you about his 27-footer, the Pursang…'

'What's his favorite color?'

'Color? I haven't the least idea. His favorite wine…'