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100promptsTitle: Get to the Source
Word Count: 3,135
Characters: Napoleon Solo, Natalia Povlovsky & Alexander Waverly
SL:The Man From U.N.C.L.E. When In Rome
Fandom: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Prompt:#013 Candy for100prompts
Rating: Mature
Summary: She wasn’t jealous. No, of course not. What did she have to be jealous of? Never mind that Natalia had legs that were about a mile long or that she dripped with sophistication. Who cares that she could speak Russian? Or that both her partners were looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. There was nothing to be jealous of.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, but the characters do not belong to me. The rest of the story found here When In Rome [AO3]
They had a new team member. A beautiful new team member. A beautiful Russian team member. Gaby studied Natalia and Illya from her perch on the cracked leather sofa in the conference room. Don’t they look cozy, she thought to herself. Illya said something to Natalia in Russian making the thief (no, former thief) tilt her head back and laugh. It was husky and dark, and wildly inappropriate. Heheheheheh, Gaby internally mimicked her laughter. What was so damn funny?
Her eyes flickered toward Solo. He was casually flipping through an American made magazine ignoring the Russians. Rather, he was doing a good job pretending to ignore them. Solo sat with one leg crossed over the other. His meticulously polished shoes shook to its own frantic beat. A slight smiled pulled at the corner of Gaby’s lips. At least she wasn’t alone. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits when Natalia rested her hand on Illya’s chest. Solo flipped the magazine page with extra care.
“I see you all have become better acquainted,” Waverly said. He entered the conference room with a cheerful smile. A lanky young man trailed behind him carrying a projector with a stack of files on top.
Gaby shifted her gaze away from Illya and Natalia and looked out the window. Waverly’s eyes flickered between the foursome, oblivious to the growing tension in the cramped room. “Well, let’s begin, shall we? Everyone this is Dunkin Holt. Dunkin will be assisting me with our briefing.”
“Is he U.N.C.L.E., too?” Natalia said looking the young man over.
“N-no, I’m—" Dunkin began. His face turned red to the roots of his orange hair.
“Dunkin’s on loan from the American Embassy,” Waverly answered for him.
“You seem to borrow a lot of things that don’t belong to you, Mr. Wavery,” Natalia said. She found a seat at the center of the conference table and sat down.
Gaby snorted softly. She was one to talk. Natalia’s entire career was built on taking things that didn’t belong to her. Including Illya. Her eyes flickered back over to him. The Russian spy was winding the hands on his father’s watch oblivious to Gaby’s change in mood. At least he was through acting like a smitten schoolboy. Waverly looked in Gaby’s direction and followed her gaze back to the Russian spy. A slight frown creased his brow.
The director cleared his throat and grabbed one of the files on top of the projector. “You could call me a collector of sorts,” he retorted. “Dunkin,” Waverly said to the projectionist.
The young man fumbled with tangled cords and switches. “Just a second. I think it's busted.”
Gaby rolled her eyes and snapped to her feet. She marched over to Dunkin and grabbed the jumble of cords out of his hands and began to untangle them. Done, she tossed the additional cord and connected one end of the extension to the projector. The other fit into the socket on the wall behind the young man. Dunkin stood awkwardly as she reached around him to plug it in. “There. Now it works,” she said, flipping the on switch. The exposed wall at the front of the conference room lit up into the shape of a square.
Waverly clapped his hands together. “Great! Now we can get to the business of recovering that code.”
Gaby flounced back to her seat. There! They had to see that she was irreplaceable. Illya’s hands paused over his watch and he looked up in time to see her intense gaze on him. The Russian spy shifted in his seat and looked away. Solo, observing the brief exchange between the two veteran partners, shook his head. He laid his magazine down on the conference table and bridged his hands together.
“So, what’s this new mission? And on a scale of one to ten how likely are we to come out of this in one piece?” Solo asked Waverly.
Their director let out a pitchy, nervous laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic, Solo. You don’t want to scare off your newest team member.” Waverly glanced over at Natalia.
“Russian spy never scare easily,” Illya interjected. He and Natalia shared a familiar look from across the table.
“Never,” Natalia agreed.
Gaby rolled her eyes. “Oh, can we just get on with it.” Her tone was sharp with annoyance.
She wasn’t jealous. No, of course not. What did she have to be jealous of? Never mind that Natalia had legs that were about a mile long or that she dripped with sophistication. Who cares that she could speak Russian? Or that both her partners were looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. There was nothing to be jealous of. Gaby shifted uncomfortably in her seat again. Up until Natalia, Gaby was the woman on the team. The real brains of the operation. Now there were two women. She worried it would alter the dynamic of her relationship with her partners. Or it could do them all some good to have a little less testosterone floating around.
Wavery cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, let’s get on with it. Dunkin, the lights.” The young man scrambled to flip off the switch, casting the room in dim shadows. “I’ll go over the mission briefly to get Natalia up to speed,” he began. “You all should be familiar with Maximilian Kirkoff.” A black and white image of the German scientist appeared on the wall in front of them. “We just learned that six months ago Kirkoff defected from a criminal organization known as THRUSH. He was their leading scientist.
“THRUSH? What does that stand for?” Napoleon asked.
Waverly colored sheepishly. “To be determined.”
“UNCLE, THRUSH, CIA, it’s like alphabet soup,” Natalia said.
“Yes, well…” Waverly cleared his throat again. “Anyway, when Kirkoff defected from THRUSH he took the specs for the bomb with him. A bomb that is supposedly far more powerful than any explosive known to man. If detonated this bomb could destroy an entire continent. Kirkoff auctioned the plans to the highest bidder on the Black Market. Cuba won the bidding war.”
Waverly glanced at Natalia. A pained expression crossed her face and she briefly looked away from the projection. “In a play to gain a more substantial profit, he hid the code to the bomb in one single Fabergé Egg. There are currently ten eggs in circulation now worth millions of dollars because of what each may hold inside. Yesterday, we learned the egg Solo and Natalia stole was a dud. Which means we need to go to the source himself, Kirkoff, and retrieve the code. Without the code, the bomb is nothing but a useless shell.”
“And how do I fit in this equation?” Natalia asked. The dim light from the projection cast a shadow on her face, making her expression hard to read in the darkness.
Yes, how did she fit into this, Gaby thought to herself.
“Good question!” Waverly’s cheeks spread into a toothy grin. “Which brings me to my next point. Sergei Povlovsky.” Waverly hitched his chin toward the projection prompting Dunkin to change the image.
Another black and white picture appeared on the wall. This time, a swarthy, tall gentleman took Kirkoff’s place. The man was wearing cabana pants rolled at the ankles as he stood in shallow ocean water. He had dark, windblown hair streaked with gray and a strong jawline. His unsmiling face stared directly into the camera. Natalia looked away from the photo. She had taken that picture a year ago right after her father settled down in Cuba. She thought he would be safe in the small bungalow house that overlooked the ocean. Sergei was safe until the Cuban government learned of his connection to her. Natalia’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought of him rotting away in a small dirt cell. They had only let her see him for a few brief minutes before whisking him away.
“Sergei Povlovsky, born in Stravopol in 1902 to Alexi and Sasha Povlovsky.” Waverly paused while the rest of his team all turned to give Natalia questioning stares. “Sergei went on to become a master of props and makeup for the Russian film company, Sverdlovsk Films. You can see his work in such fare as Boris Takes the Bank.”
“That was your father?” Illya asked impressed. “Such underrated film.”
Gaby’s gaze connected with Solo and they both rolled their eyes. Natalia looked pleased that someone recognized her father’s work. Sergei Povlovsky had taken much pride in his craft and Natalia’s skills were a product of her father’s training.
“After Kirkoff hid the code, the Cuban government decided they were no longer interested in playing the German’s game of hide-and-seek.”
“They used my father to get to me,” Natalia interjected.
“Right. Once the government learned they had the most accomplished thief in their mist—.” Solo cleared his throat and gave Waverly a pointed stare. “One of the most accomplished thieves in their mist,” the director amended. “They were able to use him as leverage.”
Solo swiveled his head around to get a better look at Natalia in the dim room. “So, that’s why.”
Natalia nodded her head. “It’s the only reason why I’m involved. I don’t care about any of this. I just want my father back safe and sound.”
“We will get your father back, Natalia,” Waverly assured her. “As long as you continue to play your part, we should all have our happy ending.”
Solo’s eyes cut across the room toward the former thief. “Right,” he said sardonically.
“I’m still not sure what you need from me, Mr. Waverly. Every moment that I sit here is another moment that someone else could get that code. My father is rotting away in jail. And if I don’t get it for them soon, they will kill him.”
“This will not happen,” Illya spoke up at last. His expression turned dark when Natalia mentioned her father rotting away in prison.
“As part of this mission, we need you to continue to let the Cuban government think you are still on the job,” Waverly said. “I’d like you to contact whoever it is that handles your—you and let them know the egg was a false lead. Tell them you’ve tracked down the next egg and you're on your way to retrieving it. Meanwhile, I want you all deployed in Austria by tonight.”
“What’s in Austria?” Gaby asked.
“We believe that’s were Kirkoff has been operating.”
“So, the new target is the source itself. What about the code that’s in the egg?” Napoleon stood from the table.
“Dunkin, lights,” Waverly instructed. A few seconds later, harsh florescent light flooded the room. The director blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the change in brightness. “We’ll worry about that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, let’s track Kirkoff. Get the code from him. Once we have that in our possession, we can figure out what do to about the bomb.”
“And my father?” Natalia’s face creased with worry.
“And of course, we’ll get your father back safely. I just need you to cooperate, Ms. Povlovsky. You do that, and I’ll make sure my report to INTERPOL leaves them with no doubt that your time is better spent outside of a jail cell.”
++++
The small aircraft dipped low as it hit another air pocket. Illya’s clammy fingers curled around his armrest. His eyes focused on the seat directly in front of him. The plane shifted again. Illya mumbled a string of curses under his breath. He wasn’t afraid to fly. But he was apprehensive about flying in a plane that had recently rolled off the assembly. The Beechcraft King Air was the top of the line in small airplanes. Illya peered out of his window. The plane cut through white fluffy clouds as it soared over snow-capped mountain peaks. He tried not to think of the plane plunging into the jagged rocks below. Instead, he focused on the sound of the plane engine and rested his head against the leather seat cushion.
Solo and Natalia were at the front of the plane with Waverly while she contacted her Cuban handler. Illya trained his eyes on the back of Gaby's chair. She seemed so upset with him for some inexplicable reason. The Russian couldn't understand why. He tried to think of something he could have done to anger her and came up empty. Knowing she was angry with him made Illya feel uneasy. In the months since they partnered together, she had never given him the cold shoulder. There were times when they irritated each other. But that never lasted long. They were good together-- they worked good together.
Illya's fingers toyed with the cellophane-wrapped sweets he purchased earlier on their mission. He eyed the back or Gaby's head and sighed. The plane was stable. The bout of turbulence had simmered, and the plane no longer shuttered and jerked around. Illya unbuckled his safety belt and took the opportunity to stand to his feet. He made his way to the center of the plane where she sat alone flipping through Solo's magazine. Illya cleared his throat and waited for her to acknowledge him. Gaby continued to turn the glossy pages of the book ignoring him. Illya cleared his throat again.
Gaby looked up and stared at him wordlessly. "Yes?"
"May I sit?"
She glanced at the empty seat beside her then back at him. "It's a free country. You can do what you want."
Illya's fingers clenched around his peace offering. Ignoring her, he sat down in the empty seat and placed the package of Italian confections on her tray table.
"What's this for?"
"You," he answered simply. "I know how much you enjoy these…" he struggled to find the name of the sweets.
Gaby softened momentarily and touched the package with delicate fingers. She played with the yellow ribbon he had tied around it. Natalia's voice carried towards them from the front of the plane and making Gaby snatch her hand away.
"Why don't you give them to her.” She hitched her chin towards their newest team member.
Illya looked down at the chocolate treats confused. “She likes these… bon, bons, too?” What were the odds? He knew Gaby had a soft spot for chocolate. He’d observed her snacking on candies on several occasions. His eyes flickered toward Natalia. He’d only known the woman for a few hours. He had no idea what she preferred.
“They are not for her. They are for you.”
Gaby rolled her eyes again. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
Illya studied Gaby’s face. He didn't recognize her pinched expression. What the hell did he do? Women. “Fine. If you don’t like,” he said snatching the package away. Illya stood up stiffly.
“Illya, wait—” Gaby called out as he made his way toward the front of the plane. The Russian paused and turned to face her. Gaby’s lips parted to say something more before they snapped them shut with a soft click of her teeth. Her dark eyes searched his. “Never mind,” she mumbled.
Illya shook his head and made his way to the front of the plane. He tossed the package of chocolate at Solo before snatching open the door to the cockpit. Solo caught the candy with deft hands.
“Is everything alright, Peril?” he asked.
“Nyet," Illya muttered before disappearing inside to join Waverly and the pilots.
Natalia looked between her new partner and the door to the cockpit. “What did I miss?”
Solo shook his head and laid the chocolate aside. “I have no idea. You’ll get used to Peril and his moods eventually.”
“Peril?” Natalia lifted a brow and studied Solo. “I wonder what kind of nickname you’ve come up for me. Let me guess. Comrade. No, that’s too typical. How about Natasha?” she mocked.
“Or just Natalia,” Solo answered. “Up until a few days ago, I only knew you as ‘The Cat.”
Natalia leaned against her chair and spread her arm around the back of the sofa seat. “You mean you don’t have little nicknames for all of us?”
He shook his head. Illya was a unique case. It never occurred to him to give a nickname to Gaby or anyone else. “No, but if you’d like one, we can discuss it further this evening over a drink in my room.”
Natalia made a short scoffing noise and recrossed her legs. “In your dreams, Solo. Don’t think because we’re stuck together on this mission that I’ve changed my mind. You’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.”
“I beg to differ,” he argued. Her words were sharp, but her eyes glittered teasingly. “The way I see it, if I hadn’t come along, you would have been locked up in INTERPOL’s custody.” He knew he was partly responsible for Natalia’s capture. But Solo was unwilling to take full responsibility. She double-crossed him. These things happened.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. INTERPOL has been on your tail for years. It was only a matter of time.”
“Like with you?” She quipped.
Solo took no offense. His luck had run out just like others before him.
In their line of business things usually ended in three ways. Death, capture and if you were lucky, retirement. They both had drawn the short straw. “It’s not a terrible life, Natalia. Once my debt to society is paid, I’ll be free to do what I want again.”
She looked out the window into the distance. Solo studied her tense expression. He knew Natalia’s first concern was her father. That revelation was still a shock to him. He knew she had a father, parents. But it was something one didn’t think about. The Cat having parents was an abstract concept to him. Seeing her father on that screen came as a bit of shock. Solo wondered what caused the change in modus operandi. The Cat was not a thief for hire. He and Natalia were the same in many ways. Looking at a side by side comparison of their criminal careers, they were nearly identical.
“If losing my freedom means my father is safe, then I don’t care,” she said finally.
Solo was silent for a moment. He had no words of comfort to offer to her that wouldn’t sound placating. He wanted to tell her again that his intentions were never to have her taken into custody. She double-crossed him, but that wasn’t enough of a reason to have her arrested. He liked her. Under the escalating sexual tension, he found himself admiring Natalia for the woman beneath the shroud of mystery that surrounded her.
If he wasn’t careful…
Solo cleared his throat. “We’re going to do everything we can to free him. That I can promise you.”
Word Count: 3,135
Characters: Napoleon Solo, Natalia Povlovsky & Alexander Waverly
SL:The Man From U.N.C.L.E. When In Rome
Fandom: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Prompt:#013 Candy for
100promptsRating: Mature
Summary: She wasn’t jealous. No, of course not. What did she have to be jealous of? Never mind that Natalia had legs that were about a mile long or that she dripped with sophistication. Who cares that she could speak Russian? Or that both her partners were looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. There was nothing to be jealous of.
Disclaimer: The story is mine, but the characters do not belong to me. The rest of the story found here When In Rome [AO3]
They had a new team member. A beautiful new team member. A beautiful Russian team member. Gaby studied Natalia and Illya from her perch on the cracked leather sofa in the conference room. Don’t they look cozy, she thought to herself. Illya said something to Natalia in Russian making the thief (no, former thief) tilt her head back and laugh. It was husky and dark, and wildly inappropriate. Heheheheheh, Gaby internally mimicked her laughter. What was so damn funny?
Her eyes flickered toward Solo. He was casually flipping through an American made magazine ignoring the Russians. Rather, he was doing a good job pretending to ignore them. Solo sat with one leg crossed over the other. His meticulously polished shoes shook to its own frantic beat. A slight smiled pulled at the corner of Gaby’s lips. At least she wasn’t alone. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits when Natalia rested her hand on Illya’s chest. Solo flipped the magazine page with extra care.
“I see you all have become better acquainted,” Waverly said. He entered the conference room with a cheerful smile. A lanky young man trailed behind him carrying a projector with a stack of files on top.
Gaby shifted her gaze away from Illya and Natalia and looked out the window. Waverly’s eyes flickered between the foursome, oblivious to the growing tension in the cramped room. “Well, let’s begin, shall we? Everyone this is Dunkin Holt. Dunkin will be assisting me with our briefing.”
“Is he U.N.C.L.E., too?” Natalia said looking the young man over.
“N-no, I’m—" Dunkin began. His face turned red to the roots of his orange hair.
“Dunkin’s on loan from the American Embassy,” Waverly answered for him.
“You seem to borrow a lot of things that don’t belong to you, Mr. Wavery,” Natalia said. She found a seat at the center of the conference table and sat down.
Gaby snorted softly. She was one to talk. Natalia’s entire career was built on taking things that didn’t belong to her. Including Illya. Her eyes flickered back over to him. The Russian spy was winding the hands on his father’s watch oblivious to Gaby’s change in mood. At least he was through acting like a smitten schoolboy. Waverly looked in Gaby’s direction and followed her gaze back to the Russian spy. A slight frown creased his brow.
The director cleared his throat and grabbed one of the files on top of the projector. “You could call me a collector of sorts,” he retorted. “Dunkin,” Waverly said to the projectionist.
The young man fumbled with tangled cords and switches. “Just a second. I think it's busted.”
Gaby rolled her eyes and snapped to her feet. She marched over to Dunkin and grabbed the jumble of cords out of his hands and began to untangle them. Done, she tossed the additional cord and connected one end of the extension to the projector. The other fit into the socket on the wall behind the young man. Dunkin stood awkwardly as she reached around him to plug it in. “There. Now it works,” she said, flipping the on switch. The exposed wall at the front of the conference room lit up into the shape of a square.
Waverly clapped his hands together. “Great! Now we can get to the business of recovering that code.”
Gaby flounced back to her seat. There! They had to see that she was irreplaceable. Illya’s hands paused over his watch and he looked up in time to see her intense gaze on him. The Russian spy shifted in his seat and looked away. Solo, observing the brief exchange between the two veteran partners, shook his head. He laid his magazine down on the conference table and bridged his hands together.
“So, what’s this new mission? And on a scale of one to ten how likely are we to come out of this in one piece?” Solo asked Waverly.
Their director let out a pitchy, nervous laugh. “Don’t be so dramatic, Solo. You don’t want to scare off your newest team member.” Waverly glanced over at Natalia.
“Russian spy never scare easily,” Illya interjected. He and Natalia shared a familiar look from across the table.
“Never,” Natalia agreed.
Gaby rolled her eyes. “Oh, can we just get on with it.” Her tone was sharp with annoyance.
She wasn’t jealous. No, of course not. What did she have to be jealous of? Never mind that Natalia had legs that were about a mile long or that she dripped with sophistication. Who cares that she could speak Russian? Or that both her partners were looking at her as if she hung the moon and the stars in the sky. There was nothing to be jealous of. Gaby shifted uncomfortably in her seat again. Up until Natalia, Gaby was the woman on the team. The real brains of the operation. Now there were two women. She worried it would alter the dynamic of her relationship with her partners. Or it could do them all some good to have a little less testosterone floating around.
Wavery cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, let’s get on with it. Dunkin, the lights.” The young man scrambled to flip off the switch, casting the room in dim shadows. “I’ll go over the mission briefly to get Natalia up to speed,” he began. “You all should be familiar with Maximilian Kirkoff.” A black and white image of the German scientist appeared on the wall in front of them. “We just learned that six months ago Kirkoff defected from a criminal organization known as THRUSH. He was their leading scientist.
“THRUSH? What does that stand for?” Napoleon asked.
Waverly colored sheepishly. “To be determined.”
“UNCLE, THRUSH, CIA, it’s like alphabet soup,” Natalia said.
“Yes, well…” Waverly cleared his throat again. “Anyway, when Kirkoff defected from THRUSH he took the specs for the bomb with him. A bomb that is supposedly far more powerful than any explosive known to man. If detonated this bomb could destroy an entire continent. Kirkoff auctioned the plans to the highest bidder on the Black Market. Cuba won the bidding war.”
Waverly glanced at Natalia. A pained expression crossed her face and she briefly looked away from the projection. “In a play to gain a more substantial profit, he hid the code to the bomb in one single Fabergé Egg. There are currently ten eggs in circulation now worth millions of dollars because of what each may hold inside. Yesterday, we learned the egg Solo and Natalia stole was a dud. Which means we need to go to the source himself, Kirkoff, and retrieve the code. Without the code, the bomb is nothing but a useless shell.”
“And how do I fit in this equation?” Natalia asked. The dim light from the projection cast a shadow on her face, making her expression hard to read in the darkness.
Yes, how did she fit into this, Gaby thought to herself.
“Good question!” Waverly’s cheeks spread into a toothy grin. “Which brings me to my next point. Sergei Povlovsky.” Waverly hitched his chin toward the projection prompting Dunkin to change the image.
Another black and white picture appeared on the wall. This time, a swarthy, tall gentleman took Kirkoff’s place. The man was wearing cabana pants rolled at the ankles as he stood in shallow ocean water. He had dark, windblown hair streaked with gray and a strong jawline. His unsmiling face stared directly into the camera. Natalia looked away from the photo. She had taken that picture a year ago right after her father settled down in Cuba. She thought he would be safe in the small bungalow house that overlooked the ocean. Sergei was safe until the Cuban government learned of his connection to her. Natalia’s stomach twisted into knots at the thought of him rotting away in a small dirt cell. They had only let her see him for a few brief minutes before whisking him away.
“Sergei Povlovsky, born in Stravopol in 1902 to Alexi and Sasha Povlovsky.” Waverly paused while the rest of his team all turned to give Natalia questioning stares. “Sergei went on to become a master of props and makeup for the Russian film company, Sverdlovsk Films. You can see his work in such fare as Boris Takes the Bank.”
“That was your father?” Illya asked impressed. “Such underrated film.”
Gaby’s gaze connected with Solo and they both rolled their eyes. Natalia looked pleased that someone recognized her father’s work. Sergei Povlovsky had taken much pride in his craft and Natalia’s skills were a product of her father’s training.
“After Kirkoff hid the code, the Cuban government decided they were no longer interested in playing the German’s game of hide-and-seek.”
“They used my father to get to me,” Natalia interjected.
“Right. Once the government learned they had the most accomplished thief in their mist—.” Solo cleared his throat and gave Waverly a pointed stare. “One of the most accomplished thieves in their mist,” the director amended. “They were able to use him as leverage.”
Solo swiveled his head around to get a better look at Natalia in the dim room. “So, that’s why.”
Natalia nodded her head. “It’s the only reason why I’m involved. I don’t care about any of this. I just want my father back safe and sound.”
“We will get your father back, Natalia,” Waverly assured her. “As long as you continue to play your part, we should all have our happy ending.”
Solo’s eyes cut across the room toward the former thief. “Right,” he said sardonically.
“I’m still not sure what you need from me, Mr. Waverly. Every moment that I sit here is another moment that someone else could get that code. My father is rotting away in jail. And if I don’t get it for them soon, they will kill him.”
“This will not happen,” Illya spoke up at last. His expression turned dark when Natalia mentioned her father rotting away in prison.
“As part of this mission, we need you to continue to let the Cuban government think you are still on the job,” Waverly said. “I’d like you to contact whoever it is that handles your—you and let them know the egg was a false lead. Tell them you’ve tracked down the next egg and you're on your way to retrieving it. Meanwhile, I want you all deployed in Austria by tonight.”
“What’s in Austria?” Gaby asked.
“We believe that’s were Kirkoff has been operating.”
“So, the new target is the source itself. What about the code that’s in the egg?” Napoleon stood from the table.
“Dunkin, lights,” Waverly instructed. A few seconds later, harsh florescent light flooded the room. The director blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the change in brightness. “We’ll worry about that bridge when we get there. In the meantime, let’s track Kirkoff. Get the code from him. Once we have that in our possession, we can figure out what do to about the bomb.”
“And my father?” Natalia’s face creased with worry.
“And of course, we’ll get your father back safely. I just need you to cooperate, Ms. Povlovsky. You do that, and I’ll make sure my report to INTERPOL leaves them with no doubt that your time is better spent outside of a jail cell.”
++++
The small aircraft dipped low as it hit another air pocket. Illya’s clammy fingers curled around his armrest. His eyes focused on the seat directly in front of him. The plane shifted again. Illya mumbled a string of curses under his breath. He wasn’t afraid to fly. But he was apprehensive about flying in a plane that had recently rolled off the assembly. The Beechcraft King Air was the top of the line in small airplanes. Illya peered out of his window. The plane cut through white fluffy clouds as it soared over snow-capped mountain peaks. He tried not to think of the plane plunging into the jagged rocks below. Instead, he focused on the sound of the plane engine and rested his head against the leather seat cushion.
Solo and Natalia were at the front of the plane with Waverly while she contacted her Cuban handler. Illya trained his eyes on the back of Gaby's chair. She seemed so upset with him for some inexplicable reason. The Russian couldn't understand why. He tried to think of something he could have done to anger her and came up empty. Knowing she was angry with him made Illya feel uneasy. In the months since they partnered together, she had never given him the cold shoulder. There were times when they irritated each other. But that never lasted long. They were good together-- they worked good together.
Illya's fingers toyed with the cellophane-wrapped sweets he purchased earlier on their mission. He eyed the back or Gaby's head and sighed. The plane was stable. The bout of turbulence had simmered, and the plane no longer shuttered and jerked around. Illya unbuckled his safety belt and took the opportunity to stand to his feet. He made his way to the center of the plane where she sat alone flipping through Solo's magazine. Illya cleared his throat and waited for her to acknowledge him. Gaby continued to turn the glossy pages of the book ignoring him. Illya cleared his throat again.
Gaby looked up and stared at him wordlessly. "Yes?"
"May I sit?"
She glanced at the empty seat beside her then back at him. "It's a free country. You can do what you want."
Illya's fingers clenched around his peace offering. Ignoring her, he sat down in the empty seat and placed the package of Italian confections on her tray table.
"What's this for?"
"You," he answered simply. "I know how much you enjoy these…" he struggled to find the name of the sweets.
Gaby softened momentarily and touched the package with delicate fingers. She played with the yellow ribbon he had tied around it. Natalia's voice carried towards them from the front of the plane and making Gaby snatch her hand away.
"Why don't you give them to her.” She hitched her chin towards their newest team member.
Illya looked down at the chocolate treats confused. “She likes these… bon, bons, too?” What were the odds? He knew Gaby had a soft spot for chocolate. He’d observed her snacking on candies on several occasions. His eyes flickered toward Natalia. He’d only known the woman for a few hours. He had no idea what she preferred.
“They are not for her. They are for you.”
Gaby rolled her eyes again. “It doesn’t seem like it.”
Illya studied Gaby’s face. He didn't recognize her pinched expression. What the hell did he do? Women. “Fine. If you don’t like,” he said snatching the package away. Illya stood up stiffly.
“Illya, wait—” Gaby called out as he made his way toward the front of the plane. The Russian paused and turned to face her. Gaby’s lips parted to say something more before they snapped them shut with a soft click of her teeth. Her dark eyes searched his. “Never mind,” she mumbled.
Illya shook his head and made his way to the front of the plane. He tossed the package of chocolate at Solo before snatching open the door to the cockpit. Solo caught the candy with deft hands.
“Is everything alright, Peril?” he asked.
“Nyet," Illya muttered before disappearing inside to join Waverly and the pilots.
Natalia looked between her new partner and the door to the cockpit. “What did I miss?”
Solo shook his head and laid the chocolate aside. “I have no idea. You’ll get used to Peril and his moods eventually.”
“Peril?” Natalia lifted a brow and studied Solo. “I wonder what kind of nickname you’ve come up for me. Let me guess. Comrade. No, that’s too typical. How about Natasha?” she mocked.
“Or just Natalia,” Solo answered. “Up until a few days ago, I only knew you as ‘The Cat.”
Natalia leaned against her chair and spread her arm around the back of the sofa seat. “You mean you don’t have little nicknames for all of us?”
He shook his head. Illya was a unique case. It never occurred to him to give a nickname to Gaby or anyone else. “No, but if you’d like one, we can discuss it further this evening over a drink in my room.”
Natalia made a short scoffing noise and recrossed her legs. “In your dreams, Solo. Don’t think because we’re stuck together on this mission that I’ve changed my mind. You’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place.”
“I beg to differ,” he argued. Her words were sharp, but her eyes glittered teasingly. “The way I see it, if I hadn’t come along, you would have been locked up in INTERPOL’s custody.” He knew he was partly responsible for Natalia’s capture. But Solo was unwilling to take full responsibility. She double-crossed him. These things happened.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. INTERPOL has been on your tail for years. It was only a matter of time.”
“Like with you?” She quipped.
Solo took no offense. His luck had run out just like others before him.
In their line of business things usually ended in three ways. Death, capture and if you were lucky, retirement. They both had drawn the short straw. “It’s not a terrible life, Natalia. Once my debt to society is paid, I’ll be free to do what I want again.”
She looked out the window into the distance. Solo studied her tense expression. He knew Natalia’s first concern was her father. That revelation was still a shock to him. He knew she had a father, parents. But it was something one didn’t think about. The Cat having parents was an abstract concept to him. Seeing her father on that screen came as a bit of shock. Solo wondered what caused the change in modus operandi. The Cat was not a thief for hire. He and Natalia were the same in many ways. Looking at a side by side comparison of their criminal careers, they were nearly identical.
“If losing my freedom means my father is safe, then I don’t care,” she said finally.
Solo was silent for a moment. He had no words of comfort to offer to her that wouldn’t sound placating. He wanted to tell her again that his intentions were never to have her taken into custody. She double-crossed him, but that wasn’t enough of a reason to have her arrested. He liked her. Under the escalating sexual tension, he found himself admiring Natalia for the woman beneath the shroud of mystery that surrounded her.
If he wasn’t careful…
Solo cleared his throat. “We’re going to do everything we can to free him. That I can promise you.”
