Border Town

The night had been long and mostly unproductive. Two men sat and resolutely sipped on their warm beer, watching the door in the little cafe. No one came through it save a few men who looked to be just getting off work, ready cash and thirsty countenances all that showed in the dim lighting. The bar was close to the entrance, with a few tables scattered about on the stone floor. This little town of Santa Isabella was somewhere in Mexico, near the town of Juarez. Off the beaten track didn't begin to describe this bump in the road, and the two UNCLE agents who were minding the doorway as though it led to Shangrila had little to show for their diligence.

"Illya, if I don't get out of here, I will shoot someone just out of sheer meanness. And I mean that". The American was hot and tired, frustrated and low on patience. His partner was also wearing down in his resistence to lethargy and disapproval concerning this situation.

"I suppose there is not the least probability that we can abandon this mission and claim heat stroke as a cause. Mr. Waverly would no doubt require proof alongside some type of accomplishment; say, catching the bad guys". If there were any place on earth in which Illya Kuryakin hated to be, it was anything resembling a desert, as this spot most definitely did.

"No. Heat stroke won't work. But I'm beginning to think that the information we received was faulty, because no one even remotely like Dr. Wizener has passed through here. For that matter, no one looking like Thrush at all". Napoleon Solo was a cool number by most people's standards. This mission, however, had challenged that image and he felt overheated, overwrought and really ready to be done with it. One more night, and he was calling it...DOA came to mind.

"If he were anyplace near here, we would have caught wind of it. It's late, what say we call it a night". He glanced across at his partner, the brown eyes taking in the room even as he caught his partner's nod of approval. Nothing to learn at this late hour. Illya seemed more tired than he did, which was saying something.

"I won't offer any resistance to that suggestion, Napoleon. If it takes much longer I may just curl up here on the table". That would be a sight. Napoleon had no doubt he could do it...sort of like a cat curling up for a nap. The image of it caused a chuckle to escape, and his weariness lifted momentarily.

"You go ahead, and I'll follow you up in about five minutes. On the off chance there is someone around, I'll wait and make sure no one else goes up after you". Illya nodded again, not even wanting to take the energy for speech. He felt unusually tired, and hoped he wouldn't fall asleep on the stairway, his body was that heavy with fatigue.

"Okay, I'm gone then. See you up there".

Napoleon decided to sit outside on the patio, smoke a cigarette and survey the little town. La Ciudad de Santa Isabella was a dusty, poverty stricken little village about fifty miles southeast of Juarez, Mexico. The border town that mirrored El Paso was a drop off point for the last bit of information they'd had on Dr. Wizener, and the trail had pointed to the little town of Santa Isabella as his next most probable destination. Whatever Thrush had in mind, coming here had seemed odd even for them. Still, it had to be checked out, and the doctor needed to be stopped. Under the umbrella of a Thrush satrap that posed as a cosmetics manufacturer, Wizener had developed a new strain of virus that could end up in a box of loose face powder, unless they were stopped. UNCLE intelligence had tracked their activity here, and the projection of their next move indicated that they would be trying it out on unsuspecting villagers in this part of Mexico. Who would care if nameless, unimportant pockets of population were affected by a virus? With such a lack of accountability concerning these small villages and the poor people who lived in them, Thrush had found the perfect prey for another nefarious plot.

As Illya climbed the stairs up to their room, he seriously considered the possibility that he might not make it. Each step was an effort, making him wonder if he had contracted something in the pursuit of the deadly virus. He wanted badly to get into bed, but also to strip down and climb into the shower; the dust and the heat were oppressive, and he didn't think he would sleep well without washing all of it away somehow. As he entered the room all of the precautions were taken, gun out and eyes as alert as possible considering his weariness. He checked all of the normal spots for bugs, pushing back curtains, fingering lamps and fixtures; it all seemed secure. With that taken care of, he started removing his clothes one piece at a time until all that remained were his boxers. These he removed as he was stepping into the shower, the water washing over him in soothing spurts that eased his body past the tension remaining in his too tired shoulders and back. It was quick, and he grabbed a towel that went from his head, to the shoulders and finally around his waist as he purposefully strode back to his bed. It was one of two, a rare luxury for a place like this, and one for which he knew gratitude would be insufficient. He needed to sleep, and sleeping alone would provide the best rest for now.

Before he could get a sheet over him he was out cold. The overhead fan kept a steady swish of almost cool air circulating, and the still damp skin and hair aided in cooling down the inert body. The drug in his beer had done it's work.

Napoleon had no idea he was being watched. The subtlety of the operation in Santa Isabella was somehow beyond the experiences he normally had with Thrush, their movements undertaken with such finesse that the CEA missed the shadows behind him as they crept forward. In a sudden burst of activity, two men had the UNCLE agent in their grip, his mouth covered and both arms pulled backwards with such force that a gasp of pain and surprise was muffled by the arm across his face. No one looked towards the struggle, and as quickly as they had snuck up on him, Napoleon was dragged from the little patio and into the darkness. He felt the needle pierce the skin on his right arm and began to fall helplessly into the blackness of an unconscious state; shattered images of his friend like shards of glass was the last thing he saw.

Illya stirred in his bed, a relentless banging contradicting a good night's sleep. When he opened his eyes it was with great care to avoid the streaks of sunlight that were assaulting him, adding to the pain in his head. With some alarm he realized that his right hand was shackled to the brass headboard; that could only mean something bad. He raised his head to look around, then shuddered involuntarily at the sight of Napoleon unconscious and bound to the lone chair in the room. The room was empty except for them, which offered no comfort considering their respective positions.

"Napoleon! Wake up Napoleon!" He shouted at his partner, hoping to rouse him and get him into action. From where he lay, his friend seemed to be in a better position to free himself.

"Napoleon!" Louder now, and definitely with more vehemence. Aside from the obvious problem, the Russian needed to relieve his bladder, and now would be a good time for some help from his partner. The brown head bobbed up, turning from one side to the other as he began to assess the room and his own situation. His eyes came up then and looked across the room at the blond man in the bed. It took a minute before he realized that Illya was attached to it somehow.

"Illya? What happened? I don't remember anything". He was already beginning to manipulate the ropes that bound his wrists. It seemed that it would not be difficult to get free...just a few minutes and...

"I've got it. Hold on partner..." He got the last knot undone with ease and, grasping the table at his side, began the unsteady process of raising himself up from the chair. He shook his head to try and clear it, immediately regretting that as the throbbing intensified from the drug he had been given.

"Hurry Napoleon...if you will".

Illya's urgency was real, and the prospect of getting loose was hopeful at best.

Napoleon made his way to the bed, still reeling from the drug's effect. More than that, he was offended that his professionalism had not saved him from this incident. He hadn't had any warning or indication of a Thrush presence here. How they had managed to elude both his and Illya's attention was a troublesome thing; that they had been left here unattended was equally puzzling.

"Umm...there is a key here. Why would they leave the key?" Illya raised an eyebrow to indicate a curiosity but not an answer. It had been out of his reach, even if he had noticed it on the bedside table. Napoleon had been tied up, but not securely, and the key to the handcuffs holding Illya was next to him, but just out of reach. This was a puzzle, and neither of the men had a clue about solving it...yet.

Gratefully, Illya felt the lock give on the handcuffs and, quickly as he was able, bounded from the bed and into the bathroom. Napoleon, still suffering from the headache and nausea that so often acccompanied drugs such as he had been given, waited for his partner to vacate the facilities, and was glad when he heard the toilet flush. He wasted no time replacing Illya as the occupant, the two passing in the doorway. Illya had gone to bed naked, and now went about the task of finding something to wear. In the heat of the desert, his choices were limited to a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. Nothing more, and certainly not a suit. Still slightly lethargic from the drug, he located his gun and communicator, wondering what type of Thrush would leave the two agents here with all of their weapons and devices intact. They hadn't been restrained to the point of not freeing themselves, no one was here to guard them and they had guns at the ready. Something was wrong here, but it wasn't as disturbing as the fact that they had each been overtaken without any suspicion of danger. Illya began to wonder if this had been intended as more of a warning. But of what?

Napoleon showered and changed, opting as Illya had to forego a suit today. He wore trousers and a polo shirt, never able to completely abandon his sense of style. The two men were as unalike as a rock and a cactus. One was smooth and polished, never losing the sheen of his particular sense of self. The other, often prickly and unapproachable, but still able to flower on occasion, inviting speculation and admiration. That they each had a following of women from whom they could pick and choose an evening's companion did nothing to detract from their appeal. One's openness invited some, while the difficulty of reaching past the barriers proved a subtle aphrodesiac to others. For the present, the two men were ready to head out and go in search of whoever had overcome them the previous night. Whether or not it was Thrush was now a valid question; if not, then who and why? And, where was Dr. Wizener, and with whom was he associated? Several questions needed answering, and the first would be where to begin.

Napoleon answered that question by suggesting they retrace the steps they could remember within and around the hotel. Santa Isabella was such a small little town that it wouldn't take long to search the entire place. The villagers were not particularly talkative, making the agents consider the possibility that they were all aware of whoever was stalking them; possibly who had been responsible for last night's activities. Illya took one side and Napoleon the other, each of them poking around in the various little shops and businesses. A little mercado was the center of town, supplying everything from food items to clothing. Sort of like a general mercantile, it supplied the town with anything that was needed. In the agents' favor, the store owner prided himself on knowing virtually everything that went on in Santa Isabella, including Americans who wandered in for no discernable reason.

"Se or, hay otra gente nueva en la ciudad?" Certainly if there were other strangers in town, this man would know of it. Illya knew that he, for certain, had been watched. Blond hair and blue eyes were unusual to this region, and he would have been easy to point out, should anyone have been interested.

"No se or, you and your friend only...solamente ustedes". The little man behind the counter was friendly enough, and he appeared to be telling the truth. The Russian wondered if his partner were having any better luck running down the people who had played that little game. That's what it had been, too: a game. Now it had turned into a hunt, with no rules and no idea how the game should be played. They still had a missing scientist with a dangerous virus in his possession. The border towns were at risk for now, and Santa Isabella seemed to be at the center of the mystery.

The two UNCLE agents met back at the cantina where this had all started the night before. Neither of them had anything to report that would be helpful, none of the citizens had seen any new arrivals. The other possibility was that the perpetrators were locals themselves.

"Illya, who served us our drinks last night? You didn't have anything else, so it had to be in the beer. But why not mine?" Illya shrugged his shoulders, and offered the only thing that was obvious to them.

"They wanted to play their little game on us. I was drugged first so they could sneak into the room and...' He still bristled at how he had been handcuffed to the bed. Sound asleep and naked, he was just glad that's all they had done; that humiliation was quite enough.

"I can't figure it out. They were able to take you with no witnesses and then bundle you upstairs and leave you tied to that chair. None of it makes any sense, with no communication or threat. It doesn't really add up to Thrush, does it".

Napoleon agreed with that completely. Thrush would have wanted them to know who had been there, the braggart mentality abounded among them. At the very least there would have been some bruises this morning, instead of the easy escape that had been left for them.

"So, now what? What does New York have to say?" Illya had left the communicating to Napoleon, and he hadn't heard the report as yet.

"Mr. Waverly is as stumped as we are, but he insists that we remain here until something solid comes across regarding Wizener. He hasn't been spotted anywhere else, and the sources did point to Santa Isabella as his next stopping point".

Illya considered all of it, and then backtracked to the little waitress who had served them their drinks last night. He didn't see her anywhere today, and decided to inquire about her and try to get some information from that angle.

"Our waitress may know something, or may be involved. I don't see her, but I'll go and ask around. Perhaps there might be something valuable that she could add to this; like who else is involved". Napoleon nodded, his eyes surveying the room as he considered the possibilities.

Illya went to the barman and began to ask about the waitress from the previous evening. He gave the impression that he was interested in her, and would like to ask her to dinner and did the girl work every night...several questions later and he had the answer: she had filled in for a friend, and was in fact not known to the owner. She had simply come in and reported that the regular girl, Estella, was sick and had asked Maria to fill in. Rather than be shorthanded, it had been allowed.

"So, we have our first clue it seems. The waitress was a plant, she served me the drugged beer and then alerted her friends when you went outside. That has to be the way it happend". Blue eyes sought out a confirmation from the senior agent, and found his agreement with a raised eyebrow and a slow grin. This, at least, was a beginning to finding the who part of their puzzle. The next question was why.

Padre Enrique was finishing his morning ablutions in the little rectory of the church. La Iglesia del Corazon Bendito de la Santa Isabelle had been his home for seventeen years, and the little pueblo of Santa Isabella remained entirely too full of mischief and unrepentant hearts. He vowed everyday to remain faithful, but it was a tremendous effort at times, considering what went on below the floors of his beloved church. He knew that it had been foolish of him to allow those people to dig beneath his iglesia, creating a sub-level to which he was denied entry. He didn't wish to go there anyway; his pleas for forgiveness were time consuming these days, the sin of his folly tormented him. He had thought it a way to gain income for the little parrish, but now it was proving to have been a mistake. The men looked evil to him, and they refused to come into the church and pray for their souls. Yes, it had been wrong of him to allow it. And now, he might have to suffer the consequences for eternity. Certainly pergatory would make room for him when the time came.

Illya and Napoleon were attempting to forge a plan of action. They knew that the girl, Maria, was not a regular employee of the cantina, nor did anyone seem to know where she lived. Her sole purpose seems to have been to slip something into Illya's beer the previous night and then disappear. The two agents determined that they would lay low for the afternoon and then set up a watch for the night. They would avoid the cantina, instead buying some provisions from the little mercado and eating in their room. That seemed to be the safest choice for them now. With nothing additional coming from Mr. Waverly, and little information pertinent to their search from the locals, both men were feeling the anxiety of not enough action. Illya feigned relaxation as he took yet another nap, but he was keyed up with questions and an unwelcome sense of ignorance. This situation vexed his need for information, and he would need a release for the ambiguity that had presented itself on this mission.

Napoleon tried to appease his own frustration by reading for a while, then searching the streets below for any signs of activity or clues about the events from the night before. They were at risk from an enemy they hadn't identified. That was worrisome to the CEA; the man could function with little or no information, but to be stalked by an anonymous adversary left him cold. There were answers and he intended to find them.

As the dusty little town began to fade into the darkness of night, a few men straggled into the cantina for their nightly drinks and conversation. The whitewashed buildings took on a faint glow in the light of a full moon, something that would make the evening's surveillance a little easier. If anything was going on in this town, they would be able to see it from their balcony. The hotel was situated perfectly for that task, and was the one thing in their favor so far.

" Don't leave any lights on in the room. We should be able to disappear from sight without any backlighting". Napoleon was sitting on the floor of the little balcony, and he could peer easily between the railings that helped to block any view of the inhabitants there. Illya joined him after dousing all of the lights in the room, ready to settle in for however long it took to sight something of interest.

In the dark streets below them, the two men saw little activity save a few men coming into the cantina below them. At the end of town, lights were on in the church; something that did not seem too out of place here, until a movement caught Illya's attention.

"Look, over to the side of the church...do you see that?" He motioned with his hand so that Napoleon could zero in on the same object. It looked like a man in some type of dark clothing, and as he walked towards the back of the church building he seemed to just disappear. Napoleon pulled his night goggles a little closer, as though he might see better if they were pressed more closely to his face.

"There must be a way down below the church. Something tells me a basement is not in the plans for that little building. Shall we take a look?" He grinned sideways at his partner as they both rose up from their sitting positions, then grabbed their kits that contained a penlight, communicator and various implements for breaking and entering, exploding and creating chaos, if necessary.

Both men were dressed all in black, and the blond had on a cap to cover the beacon of light hair. Especially in this location, he would be noticed instantly for that bright mop. He led the way down, clamboring from the balcony to a convenient handhold in the building's adobe walls. Since the first floor had been built with seven foot walls, the descent was easily handled without the aid of ropes or other accoutrement familiar to the two agents. Sometimes simplicity did present itself.

Down on the ground they began their approach to the little church. They stayed in the shadows until they reached it, then around to the back and well out of sight of anyone on the street. There was the flicker of candlelight through the modest stained glass windows, indicating that someone was tending the business and flock of God inside. The side of the church had a little patio complete with a fountain and assorted statues of the patron saint, Saint Isabelle, upon whose memory the little town had been founded. For some unknown reason, the name Santa Isabella had replaced the traditional Isabelle, but the respect and devotion were present just the same. Her likeness was shrouded with flowers and paper mache' garlands, some of which were long forgotten by whoever had left them. It was on this patio that Illya and Napoleon found themselves in search of a doorway to the underground room.

When they reached the point where they had witnessed the man going down beneath the building, they were disappointed to not find a ready entrance. Utilizing both of their penlights, they finally identified a section of the stone patio where a shape emerged that had to be the opening. It was well concealed to a casual observer, but not to the searching eyes of two trained UNCLE agents. This was a discovery that needed exploration; knowing that someone had just entered, they decided to remain and watch for more activity. Whoever was down there was probably armed, and with only one entrance, a person would most likely be observed if he just dropped in for a visit.

One of them would have to go in alone.

Illya and Napoleon took cover behind several of the statues that were nestled in among yucca plants and bouganvillea. It was ironic that an operation like the one Wizener was heading up should be hidden beneath a church and accessed through such a peaceful setting. The virus that the man had concocted was a deadly and loathesome strain that would wipe out thousands of people with a simple dusting of the powder in which it could be hidden. The two agents had no choice but to believe that this secret room beneath the church was somehow connected to the crazed scientist; surely anyone who would create such a deadly entity must be a lunatic.

As the two of them sat in the shadows, waiting for some sign of activity, Napoleon thought of an alternative to assaulting the nether domain from the hidden staircase.

"Illya, why not just go in and confront the padre about what's down there. I think we may be able to find a way to infiltrate from above, and I doubt that the priest in there is complicit in this scenario. At the very least, we won't be any worse off". Illya thought about it briefly before ascenting to the suggestion. He trusted his partner's instincts when it came to strategies and plots.

"Lead the way. Let me follow at a distance...just in case there are troops within". Napoleon agreed. He would go into the church while Illya waited, and between them they should have that one entrance covered easily. The trick would be to find a way to the lair below.

Napoleon eased himself from the hiding place, dodging light when he could and making his way across the front of the church and through the wood double doors. Once inside he was greeted by dozens of lighted votives that gave off a rosy glow from their glass holders. The front of the church was lit by candles as well, and the solitary priest appeared to be in prayer, facing the altar with his head bobbing as he spoke silently to his God and whatever attendant witnesses might be present. It was a sobering sight, and momentarily caused the American to remember his own upbringing; the rituals of his youth suddenly clashing with the reality of his life.

He approached the altar but not before stopping to dip a finger into the holy water within the font located in the vestibule; he walked silently down the aisle, kneeling to cross himself before landing next to the intense little man in the priest's frock. He waited until the man stopped, the priest sensing his presence before he looked at him.

"Padre, may we talk?" Napoleon knew he would have to take this slowly. The priest looked strained, as though the weight of the world lay on his lean shoulders. His hair was grey, although thick and longer than seemed normal. His eyes had the look of the eternally weary, and Napoleon wondered if caring for this little town could possibly take a toll such as he saw in the man's face.

"You are not one of my people, señor. What have you to do with me?" The voice as well as the expression was wary of the strange man at his side. Perhaps this was another of the crew of men who occupied the cursed place beneath these floors. A dread came upon him as he considered the possibilities at hand, and the nature of this man's visit.

"No, padre. But I believe you may need my help...mine and my partner's. You look to be a man in trouble". With that statement, the old priest heaved a great sigh, and thought perhaps God had not abandoned him in his sin and folly. This man, then, could be the angel of mercy that would save the church and the town from the evil he had so carelessly allowed to take up residence.

"Tell me, son...how can you help? For surely, there is great evil going on, and some of it because of my own stupidity. I will pray for God's mercy and help in whatever it is you can do to alleviate this business. What can I do?" Napoleon was relieved at the willingness to cooperate, and was glad to see Illya coming to join him here at the altar with the grieving cleric. It was ironic that the two of them should meet at the altar of a church; their lives belied the need for such trappings, and he doubted that either of them had prayed recently. Perhaps Illya had never done so. Another first for the team that UNCLE considered their best, and he wondered now if saving a church would impact them in ways not previously experienced.

"My name is Napoleon Solo, and this is my partner Illya Kuryakin. You are..."

"Father Enrique, my sons. I am an old and foolish man, praying for God's forgiveness to undo the damage I have allowed by admitting those men who dwell beneath the church. I didn't know they would be evil and I never dreamed of the fear and anxiety their presence would provoke. You are messengers of God, here to help rid us of this trouble; they are the devil's own men'... The priest looked more closely now at the two men, and the blond especially. The candlelight glinted off of the light hair, and the blue eyes reminded the old priest of pictures he had seen of angels; full of light and glowing as this one did now.

"You, you look like an angel, a spirit of light. I know for a certainty then, that you have come to deliver us here in Santa Isabella". Illya blanched at the comparison; it was too much to be compared to angels, and he certainly was not one. Although, an avenging angel, perhaps...

"Whatever you wish to call us, padre...we are here to help. First you must tell us how this happened, and whether or not there is another way into the rooms beneath the church". The Russian never wasted time, and there was none to lose concerning this mission. Wizener had to be stopped before he destroyed the town of Santa Isabella, and everyone in it.

Father Enrique fell silent as he considered the two men before him, and the help they were willing to bring to his church and town. The mistake he had made could be undone with their help, the men below ousted much as satan himself would be thrown out of heaven. He gave silent thanks even as he spoke with the messengers of redemption God had sent to help him.

" There is a small opening in the floor...here, you see it behind the altar. This is where the idea came from to build the room below us. It was originally a root cellar, used to store food and sometimes people, when banditos and other bad men would come and raid Santa Isabella. It was forgotten when we were no longer much in danger from such people, and not a thought was given to it until..." He sought heaven as he looked upward, heaving a great sigh of regret at his own foolishness.

"Until these people arrived? You mustn't feel guilty, we know they are very persuasive when they want something". Napoleon felt a rush of sympathy for the old priest, his compassion for the man palpable as he offered a hand on the man's shoulder to convey comfort and understanding.

"Yes, when they came here they searched the entire church looking for the trap door. I believe they must have known about it; someone from the town must have told them". He looked first to Napoleon and then Illya, searching for answers and hopeful of an end to this terror.

"Do you know a young woman named Maria? She seems to be involved somehow, although we don't know if she is a willing participant, or was forced to help them". Illya realized that in this region, the name might be all too common; still he hoped that the priest would have some information as to the girls' whereabouts.

"Maria is a pretty girl, this one you seek? She is one of their people, and not from Santa Isabella at all. I have spoken with her a few times only, and she is not as young as you might think. Still, she is not in charge of anything, but answers to the old man who lives downstairs. He is the devil himself, I think". Father Enrique shuddered as he said that last, causing both agents to consider the possibility that Wizener was here, below them, even as they stood discussing the situation.

"How long has he been here, this old man? Did he oversee the excavation of the rooms below?" Napoleon knew the timeline of the scientist's travels, and he couldn't have been here in Santa Isabella longer than a few days, at most.

"No, he has not been here the entire time. I don't know when he arrived, but everyone answers to him, and it has been a very anxious time for me knowing he is there. The man is evil, and I pray for all of us that he will soon be gone and carried into his eternity...whatever that may be". The not too subtle hope that the man should soon be dead was a bold thing coming from the lips of the priest. Another reason for his own prayers for mercy.

"I think it is time for you to leave here. We can't have you at risk, Father'... Illya shook his head at the priest's insistence that he remain in his church.

"No, you must go. We can't be responsible for your safety if...we don't know what we will find. These people don't care who gets hurt". The priest was still protesting and fell to his knees as though that would stall any physical attempts to remove him.

"I will stay here, and I will pray for your safety. I will not leave behind what I have caused to be. It was my own mistakes that brought them here". Napoleon knelt down beside him, hoping to convince the priest to abandon his heroics.

"Father Enrique, you didn't cause this. They would have come in and built that room even if you hadn't agreed to it...for whatever reason you had. They would simply have killed you and gone on with their plans. They will kill you when they're done here". His eyes conveyed an empathy borne of too many encounters with Thrush and their megalomaniacal plans.

"My son, I understand what you say, and appreciate your sincerety. This is where I belong, whether I live or die; I will not leave it".

Illya had been going over every inch of the sanctuary at intervals, between talking to the priest, hoping to find a spot that was undiscovered by the Thrush below. Now on another inspection of the opposite side of the church, he had found something next to the confessional, covered over by a drapery and seemingly forgotten for many years. As he eased back the fabric, he examined the section of wood with his penlight until he saw the outline of a door, the hinge apparently hidden on the other side, creating the deceptively flat panel. He called softly to his partner, breaking the communication between the man and the priest; at the signal from the padre's angel, he got up and joined his friend at the new discovery.

"I think this may also lead downstairs. This is a very old building, but was perhaps intended to be a very secure hiding place by whoever built it. I am wondering if the history of this town is more interesting than it appears on the surface'. Illya paused for effect and then continued...

"During the French Intervention in Mexico, Benito Juarez and his party were temporarily relocated to Chihuahua...which is where we now are. By the way, that period has been called The Maximilian Affair'... a fresh look of mischief crossed the Russians face at that little irony.

"Anyway, that is about the same time that this church was built. I am guessing that there might have been hiding places set up in advance of the deposed presidente, and that this was one of them. That would account for the secret entries to the supposed 'root cellar', as Enrique has called them. I think they were built for Juarez, so that in his travels he would have hiding spots to stay out of sight of the French. Wizener must have known about these, and so went looking for one in which to build his secret laboratory". That made sense of this scenario, and Napoleon was once again appreciative of his partner's depth of knowledge concerning obscure historical facts. He was a smart Russian.

"Are you ready to take a look?" The Russian's eyes were intent on this new development, a fresh rush of adrenaline sparking something inside them that made Napoleon's blood tingle as well. This was the break they needed: a new way to enter the mysterious room beneath the church, and the possibility of a surprise assault on the people tormenting Father Enrique.

The two agents met each other's eyes and nodded; their communication was silent but effective as they moved towards the altar and the priest who was praying fervently at the base of it.

"Father Enrique, we have a way in that has been hidden, even from you. We intend to go through it and investigate what lies within it. Perhaps there is another way to what is beneath us. We won't know who or what is down there, or how much resistence they might put up. Please, if you hear anything that sounds like an explosion or guns firing...leave the church". Napoleon had little hope that the man would surrender his position at the altar, but he needed to at least make the request. He thought briefly of the possibility that the prayers of this old priest might actually aid them in this venture.

"My son, I will remain here and pray. I can promise you nothing else". His manner was resolute, leaving the UNCLE agents nothing to do but retreat to the recently discovered doorway. Illya led the way across the front of the church and back towards the confessional booth. When he reached the heavy drape that covered the entry, he pulled it back and began to feel for a spring or some other mechanism that would open. Within a few minutes of searching, his fingers felt a movement beneath them and the snick of the latch as it released, causing the door to open inward towards the dusty room beyond.

"Here Napoleon, it's here. Wait a minute and let me go in first..." The senior agent grasped his friend's shoulder, the unspoken assurance that he would cover his back at all costs.

"I'm right behind you partner".

Illya pulled out his penlight and began running the beam over the floor, up the walls and ceiling; he was looking for signs of use, but could see no indication that this passage had been visited recently. That was good, for it meant they still had a chance of surprising someone by arriving via this route. Next was the search for a way to the room beneath the church. Although the recent excavation for that space would not have involved the place where he now stood, the plausibility of finding a way into the newer section was what he was counting on. He could hear the gush of air flowing; it was forced air, and not coming from the passage in which he now traveled. The probability that a fresh air system had been installed was high, and if so...

"Hey, any luck in there?" It was Napoleon, and he moved up behind the Russian as he asked for an update.

"I think they have an air system of some type...perhaps air conditioning, considering our location".

Napoleon considered that and agreed it would be an expected accomodation for the underground lab.

"So, do you think we can get in that way? I don't see anything that looks like air ducts here". Illya put his ear to the floor and listened, hoping for a clue to come up through the dirt and stones.

"They must have put in the system, just above their ceiling and below where we now stand. That means we can get to the lab from here by digging and then entering the duct system they've installed. Not very high tech, but it will get us in".

"I don't care it it's high tech or not. Are you sure this will work?" The CEA would nearly always bow to his partners expertise in these matters, and was willing to do so now. But, he would like some reassurance that wouldn't land in the arms of some Thrush goon.

"Napoleon, it would appear that this will get us below, but I have no idea where it will place us. Do we proceed?" What choice did they have? Napoleon nodded, a piece of hair falling on his forehead as he did so. The small space was already feeling cramped and the air stale. The thought of being in the air duct had some appeal to the man, and he moved back in order to allow Illya a spot to start moving earth and stone. Very quickly it seemed, they could see signs of metal. It was just a small spot, however, and the actual digging away of adequate earth was going to take them an hour or so. Illya began the process, clearing away a few inches at a time. He worked for about 15 minutes, and then Napoleon took over. It was hot in the small space, and each man was glad for the break he received when a shift of digging was completed. On Illya's second go'round with the process, they had cleared a space about fifteen inches in diameter. Still too small to accomodate either of them, he was widening the opening when a second gust of air started blowing into their workspace. The sound of it was just a whisper, but each man was alerted to the intrusion almost immediately. With little room for moving quickly, it was only a matter of minutes until they realized what was happening; it was a few minutes too late however. Napoleon spotted the small vents near where the dirt floor met the wood reinforced walls. Illya, being closer to them, collapsed first as the senior agent watched, unable to move away and succumbing to the gas a few seconds later. Neither of them saw the girl Maria enter from the opposite end of their workspace, through another hidden doorway.

She had tried to give them every opportunity to leave here; drugging them and leaving their weapons close by, and an easy escape had been intended to provoke them to abandon this place. Her grandfather was insanely pursuing this wicked plot, his poisonous virus a terrible discovery that she had tried to remove from his lab, only to be caught and reprimanded as a foolish, idealistic young woman. She was a member of an emerging group of peace loving people, and she hated that someone in her family could be responsible for such evil. Still, he was family, and he had raised her without complaint, and always in a loving way. Whatever had overtaken his mind in these past few years still made her shudder as she compared the man in the laboratory to the grandfather she loved. Now, more than ever, she needed to protect him from men who might kill him, and at the same time she must find a way to destroy the virus herself. These two were persistent, but they couldn't succeed if it meant harming the old man. There would need to be sacrifices.

Neither man remembered anything that would help explain where they now found themselves. The gas, yes that they did recall, and Napoleon quickly reminded his friend that it would have probably been a good idea to more fully investigate the space inside the hidden door before actually settling in there to work.

"That's all good and well Napoleon. It does not help us in our present situation". Illya had a headache; the kind he always had after a dose of Thrush knock out gas. There hadn't been any indication that another living soul had stepped foot into that passage, so the now evident fact that Thrush had fitted it with gas emitting vents was doubly irritating to the Russian.

"Where do you suppose we are now?" Napoleon's head was not feeling much better than his partner's, but he was beginning to feel a little more like solving this new problem.

"I think, my friend, that we are now, finally, inside of the laboratory".

The two agents began to look around with clearer heads, recognizing the obvious accoutrement of a science lab; the haze of the drug was wearing off as they took in the sight of what they had been seeking. The American squinted his eyes as he swiveled his head around, attempting to see more of it.

"This isn't quite how I had hoped to arrive here". Illya rolled his eyes at the understatement.

"We don't seem to be quite as fortunate as we were yesterday. It doesn't appear that our captors have left us an easy escape this time". The blond was struggling against the ropes that held his hands, but they were securely tied and putting a strain on his shoulders because of the angle in which he was held. Napoleon was in the same strait, and neither of them were having any luck undoing them.

"Gentlemen, you will not escape this time. I had hoped you would simply leave before, but I see that I was mistaken. Are you law enforcement, or federal agents...?" The voice came from behind them, but neither of them could turn adequately to see who was speaking; it was a woman though. Maria...

"Are you Maria?" Napoleon was ready to charm her, and his voice oozed his own brand of confidence, the question put to her as though he weren't tied up and nursing a drug headache.

"Yes, you must be detectives or something. How did you know? About me, I mean". Her voice held a little trace of uncertainty...just enough for the agent to hope for a way inside of her resolve.

"We simply asked around...for the pretty waitress. It wasn't too difficult to find out that you had filled in for another girl. We just couldn't figure out why...until now". She walked around in front of them as Napoleon was talking, looking at both of them and attempting to remain in control of her emotions. This was not who she was...she loved peace and warmth and comfort and...

"You're after my grandfather. He's not a bad man, he's just not been himself for...for a few years". Her eyes began to fill with tears as the awful truth of his actions began to assault her memories of him. Both men assumed looks of compassion and empathy, not all of it feigned. The girl was obviously tormented by what she knew of Wizener's activities, and opposed them by all indications.

"Do you know what he is doing here?" Illya voice was soft, his eyes raised to hers in a plaintive expression that she was finding hard to resist. She remembered how she had felt when handcuffing him to the bed frame...

"You...you don't understand. Grandfather is a brilliant scientist. It's these other people, they're the ones who have corrupted his work. He's not himself..." With that she broke down and began to weep. Inspite of her former plans to somehow use these two to bargain with the Thrush men who held such sway over her grandfather, she now was realizing that they might be his only hope. Through her tears and to the astonishment of the two agents, she began to untie them.

"How did you get us down here, anyway? You must have had help". Napoleon now needed an answer to that question. Seeing the girl, he knew she hadn't accomplished it by herself. That meant someone else was nearby, perhaps someone who wouldn't allow her to set them free.

"Miguelito, a young boy who has befriended me. He will do whatever I ask of him, so don't worry about him. Will you help me, though? Can you get grandfather away from here...away from Thrush?" Ah, so she did know about their feathered adversaries.

"We will try, but if he's not willing...' This could be tricky, but now that they were out of the bindings, the advantage was theirs.

"Do you know where they keep the virus?" Napoleon knew that was the priority now...destroy it before it was let loose on the population.

Maria looked at them warily, wondering if she'd made a mistake, but unable to undo it now.

"Yes. But you can't do anything about it...I mean...it's lethal. How would you destroy it?" She was afraid of it, afraid of the men who had forced her grandfather into working for them. That she had been allowed to remain relatively free and on her own was a gift. It had brought her these two, so it was something to be grateful for, and she was.

"Illya, what do you think? Can we destroy the lab and not release the virus?" The CEA knew they needed to act fast. The lab personnel and Thrush minions would be arriving soon, if daylight was any indication. Just how his partner planned on eliminating this space...

"I almost forgot about the church...Father Enrique. How can you destroy this and not damage the church?" Both men were thinking as quickly as possible, each of them trying to arrive at the right answer.

"I don't think I can. The best we can do is take the virus and destroy the equipment and whatever records there are here. The church won't survive a blast'. Looking back to Maria, Illya asked the question again about the location of the virus.

"Maria, we can't let this formula survive. We can attempt to take your grandfather with us, if he will leave. But we must destroy the virus and all that pertains to it. Where is it?" She made her decision instantly. The evil virus had to be destroyed, and she had the power to help do it.

"It's in here, in this safe. All of the formula notes, the ledger that recorded all of the experiments...everything. It's all in the safe". She heaved a great sigh of relief at the disclosure. Now all that was left was to make sure it never harmed anyone.

"What time do the staff arrive? It's getting later and we should be out of here before they can cause a delay". Napoleon took charge of the girl while Illya concentrated on getting into the safe. He didn't take long, and inside he found it all as Maria had said it would be.

"Napoleon, what I can do is set the explosive inside the safe. The virus should expire within an hour of exposure to air, so I'm going to set one of these small oxygen tanks inside, with the valve open. When the explosive detonates it will be into a semi-vacuum that is filled with pure oxygen. The virus will die and the research information will be destroyed along with it". Illya had the answer, now all he needed to do was implement the plan. Maria watched alongside of Napoleon as Illya did his work, each of them aware of the ticking clock and the need to expedite this operation quickly.

Ten minutes went by in it's alloted time, but it seemed much longer. The two agents were used to waiting through the logistics of planning and executing a plan, but Maria was scared. She knew what Thrush might do to them should they arrive on the scene before the blond completed his task. In the meantime, Napoleon was thinking ahead to their escape, and the rescue mission they had promised Maria. If they could go back through their secret passage, the one Maria had found them in, and then back through the church they might be able to get out without confronting anyone else right now. As long as the lab was without it's star product, it was of little use to Thrush. Getting the doctor out was another step in the plan, but at least one was developing.

"Alright, let's get out. I don't want to take a chance that any of the virus gets out...just in case. This lab is secure, so it won't get out of this room". Illya's advice was swiftly adhered to, and they all moved back to the doorway through which Maria had brought them in. They moved as quickly as possible through the dirt floored passage and back into the church where Father Enrique was still on his knees, still praying. Well, perhaps it had done some good after all. Napoleon acknowledged the possibility even as he was stepping up behind the old man to let him know what had happened.

"Father, we've..." Before he could finish, a man moved out of the shadows and knocked him back from the altar. Illya swung around just in time to avert a blow as he leveled a right hook into the face of his attacker. Maria had ducked behind a pew, trying to count how many men were ambushing her new saviors. She counted three...no four. Two were down, as Illya spun around and took out another. Napoleon had gone down with that first punch, but was back up and had his man backed into a wall, finishing him off with a blow to his neck that took him out completely. The last Thrush pulled a knife, not a usual choice of weaponry. He had both UNCLE agents to contend with now, and in a last gasp of effort he grabbed Father Enrique and put the knife to his throat, dragging him up to the top of the altar.

"I'll kill the old man...just stay away". At just that moment, an explosion from below was felt and the knife wielding Thrush broke his concentration just long enough for Illya to grab at him and wrestle him to the floor. Napoleon pulled the priest from his position and thrust him away from the action, while his partner rolled down the altar steps, entangled with the other man. When they hit the bottom, the Thrush was dead and blood had spilled out onto the floor. Illya's breath came back gradually as he was helped up by his partner, but Napoleon's hand came back covered in sticky wetness. He saw now that the dead man wasn't bleeding, but Illya was faltering as he tried to walk away from the scene.

"Illya, how..."...The Russian gave his quirky half smile.

"I believe his neck is broken. It was a rather sudden reaction on my part after he stabbed me" With that the blond head fell forward onto Napoleon's shoulder as he slowly lowered him onto a pew. Maria came forward then, as well as Father Enrique, to see how they might help...and to discover how badly injured the man was.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph...what do we do now?" The priest was flustered by the sudden appearance of blood all around him. Dead men, injured men...his church had turned into a warzone. The explosion downstairs had been bad enough, but this...

"Father, we need a doctor. Can you go and do that for us? Maria, hold your hand here...keep pressure on the wound. Don't let it up, even if he comes to and complains". They both nodded and did as Napoleon directed them. As the two went to work on their appointed tasks, the agent pulled out his communicator:

"Open channel D...priority"

"Channel D open, Mr. Solo. What is your report?" Waverly's voice somehow anchored his CEA's nerves as the adrenalin rush began to subside. Napoleon felt his pulse even out as he reported to his superior...

"We have destroyed the virus, sir. The lab is still up, but we couldn't destory it without bringing down the church. Illya is wounded, though. We had hoped to get Dr. Wizener out...his granddaughter is helping us".

"Well done, then, to be rid of the virus and it's menace. I assume all of the information, research, etcetera, has also been destroyed..." Assumed meant expected. Napoleon was glad that he could report in the affirmative.

"Yes sir, all of it is destroyed. Illya blew it up inside of the safe. I expect that Thrush will clear out now, having lost the virus and been discovered here".

"Very well, then. Ah...Mr. Solo...how badly is Mr. Kuryakin wounded?" Never betraying his emotions concerning his agents, the old man did, nevertheless, dread to hear the bad news of death and near death. Just as no man was completely good, none of his agents were completely expendable.

"It's a knife wound sir...he's lost a lot of blood, I believe. He'll be fine, though...I'm sure". Illya was always fine. He had to be.

"Sir, I told Maria, the girl, that I would try and retrieve Dr. Wizener. She seems to believe that the man has been coerced into cooperating with Thrush. Do we have any indication that might be the case?" With Illya down, he was uncertain of how he would bring out Wizener, although he supposed that Maria might be able to help. Still, Illya was his priority, not a lunatic scientist who created deadly viruses.

"It is most improbable that the man has been forced into his association with Thrush. I'm sure the girl has good intentions, but her grandfather has been working for the hierarchy for decades. He simply managed to gain notoriety with this latest effort. I know you will make the most expedient decision, Mr. Solo. Waverly out".

With that, the entire mission was now a matter of his willingness to risk his neck to save a girl's grandfather. Napoleon needed some help with this situation. Where was that doctor?

The grey haired padre of Santa Isabella was hurrying as much as his aging body would allow. His angel de luz, that young blond who lay injured in his church, had saved his life. His own miserable unworthy life exchanged for another of greater value. Where was the justice in that? He was pleading with his God for mercy on them both as he came to the door of the town physician, such as he was.

"Senor Viera, que se necesitan...por favor, we must hurry!" The old priest banged on the door, speaking as loudly as he dared as he speculated that other's ears may be listening. The man who answered the door did so with questions for the insistent man...

"Lo que es el padre? Por qu los golpes fuertes?"

He had never heard such noise from this priest, so what was it he wanted?

"There is an injured man at the church. We need your help...quickly. He is bleeding...he saved my life Viera". The eyes of the old man were pained, it was clear to see that there was no time to lose. Viera was grabbing a scuffed bag as he pulled on his coat, barely able to keep up with the older man as they ran across town and into the church.

"I have him...I have Viera!" Napoleon was startled at the shout as two men came through the church doors. It was Father Enrique and a new man he assumed was the doctor. None too soon, although his partner's wound had stopped bleeding.

"What happened here?" Viera's eyes were wide open and traveling from the dead and wounded that lay on the floor of the church, to the one on the pew...and another man and a young woman. It was an astounding sight as the man stammered his questions, aiming them at no one in particular.

"Thomas, there is no time for explanations. You must save this young man, as he saved me...these two men saved me and the church. Just do your work, por favor...Dios mio, por favor prisa...hurry". Father Enrique collapsed onto the pew behind the one on which Illya lay, hoping and praying that it was not too late.

Fortunatly, the knife wound was less dangerous than it had appeared. The blade had not struck deep enough to inflict any internal damage, and although the bleeding had seemed profuse, it was stopped now. Illya was conscious as the physician tended to the ragged flesh wound, administering an antiseptic and applying bandages. The patient was sitting up now, hissing at the application of something cold and stinging, then sucking in his breath as the bandages were wrapped around his midriff, grateful that nothing more would be needed.

"Illya, you all right now?" Napoleon was breathing more easily now, seeing his partner up and apprently not much worse for the loss of blood. He never ceased to be amazed at what they could survive in this business.

"Yes, I believe I will live to fight again...maybe even today, if necessary". He returned a grimace in response to the wary expression of his friend. Both of them were thinking ahead to what they might encounter should they go after Wizener, especially if they tried to convince him to go back to UNCLE with them. Maria was watching them both, glad that Illya was not as badly wounded as she had thought, but waiting for them to announce some plan beyond the confines of the church.

The Thrush operatives that lay scattered along the floor of the church had been the advance to the lab personnel, and her grandfather. They always arrived earliest, and cleared the way for the important elements of this satrap. Without the all clear response to their inspection, another set of goons would be on their way in order to investigate.

"Napoleon, if my grandfather doesn't hear from these guys, they'll send in some more muscle. That's the protocol, and grandfather won't be coming unless it's cleared beforehand. What should we do?" She was beginning to come to grips with the possibility that the man who had raised her was not who she believed him to be all of those years. How could he not be cooperating in all of this? She had seen him take the lead among these men, and she was now realizing that his virus was not just a sign of his lunacy, it was something he had wanted to engineer. She hated it, and tears began to form in her tired eyes as she resigned herself to leaving him behind. All she wanted now was to get out of here before anything worse happened.

"Maria...what's wrong?" Napoleon wiped away a tear from her cheek as he pulled her in close to him, hoping to comfort her as he recognized her capitulation to the truth. It was never easy to admit the flaws of those you loved, especially if it were something as virulent and evil as what she was now facing.

"Sweetheart...sshhh...it's going to be alright. You're going to be alright". Illya looked on appreciatively as he watched his partner ease away the fearful anxiety of the girl. They would get her out of here and safely away from her crazed relative. She deserved better than to live this life, always trying to pull a happy ending out of such a miserable circumstance.

As this scene unfolded, the physician, Viera, was watching and trying to make sense of what he saw. The padre was gathering himself again, ready to take on the task of pastoring this flock as they tried to ascertain a plan of action. God certainly did allow the most mysterious things to take place, and he hoped that it was all going to turn out to be something less tragic than the plight of poor Job. He'd had quite enough for now...forever. The church was supposed to be a place of respite, not this death and destruction he was witnessing now.

The sun was fully up now, and the heat of the day was already encroaching on the streets of Santa Isabella. Napoleon had called for a clean up crew to come and take care of things, and he and Illya were considering how best to get Maria out and finish their own assignment. Wizener could not be allowed to replicate his formula, and they would most likely not be able to take him alive.

"Maria, where is your grandfather now?" Her eyes widened as she contemplated not telling the American where to go and find him. No, she couldn't keep that information hidden. It was useless now, to try and protect the old man...he had set his own course.

"There is a little hacienda just about five miles west of here. It is heavily guarded, with sentries at the road so that it is impossible to sneak up on them. The only way in without observation is from the arroyo that backs up to the property. For some reason, they don't have anyone posted there".

"Typical for Thrush to be so arrogant about their position that they'd neglect anything they consider too difficult. Alright, thatmight have to be our point of entry then. Illya...are you up to it?" The blond head nodded. There was some residual pain, but he didn't think it would hinder him too much. It had all looked worse than it really had been...something to be thankful for.

"I'm fine, Napoleon. I believe I need a shirt though...I seem to be without one". It was true, his bloodied tee shirt had been removed, and now he was bare from the waist up.

"Yeah, we better take care of that...Go back to the room and get changed. I'll wait here for the clean up crew, and whoever else might show up. We've used up quite a bit of time that would have been their check in period. I'm guessing someone will be showing up pretty soon". Illya agreed and was heading for the door, although not as quickly as he might have liked. His side did hurt, but no way was he going to allow Napoleon to go after Wizener alone. He straightened up as he opened the door, determination adding stature to his aching body.

"Maria, I want you and the padre here to go and lock yourselves into his private quarters. Senor Viera...thank you...here's something for your trouble..." He attempted to push some cash into the man's hands, but was refused.

"No thank you senor. I have done only what is right, and you and your friend are helping us...I cannot take money for this". Napoleon was pleased and touched by the man's sentiment.

"Very well...we will do our best to insure that Santa Isabella is safe from these intruders. I promise you that".

Illya had barely gotten past the little patio on the east side of the church when he saw two large black sedans coming into town.

"Thrush"... he said it aloud and then debated his next move. He turned and headed back into the church, cursing under his breath that he didn't have a shirt on, but glad that both he and Napoleon did have their weapons. The idea of a shoot out on church property was distasteful to the Russian, but it was looking as though there wouldn't be any choices here. Thrush would care little for where they fought this battle.

"Napoleon..." Everyone looked up as the blond burst back into the church.

"What are you..."

"Thrush...they're here. I just saw them coming into town. We don't have any time left...we need to do something now".

Illya made a move towards the door again, peeking out to try and locate the new arrivals. He saw where they parked, just in front of the hotel. They were going to position themselves along the street, making it nearly impossible to get past them and out of town without being seen.

"Did you see my grandfather?" Maria's eyes were startled with the news, and Illya shook his head no. He hadn't seen the older man, and the unspoken concensus of the two UNCLE agents was that he had remained at the hacienda, until it was declared safe here in Santa Isabella.

"Okay, then...there's an UNCLE team on the way here in about...forty-five minutes I'd guess. Illya, where are they stationed right now?" The half dressed blond had been trying to gain a vantage point from where he could see more of the street and remain invisible to watching eyes. He couldn't see a way out yet, unless...

"Napoleon, I don't think there's anyone guarding the entrance to the lab. They're concentrating on the street, thinking perhaps that we're still in the hotel, maybe..." The last part of the sentence he left for his partner to interpret.

"So, you're thinking of using that as an exit? It might work. I saw a monitor in the lab, so they must have cameras mounted outside to watch for traffic coming near the patio. Let's do it". He turned back to the other three people whose lives now depended on the agents' ability to subdue the Thrush who waited outside for them.

"Maria, Father...Senior Viera...I need you to all go and hide inside of the padre's quarters. I don't think they're going to be looking for you in particular, but just to be on the safe side, you should be out of sight. Go. Maria, we'll do what we can". He let a meaningful look rest on the girl as he tried to assure her that they wouldn't harm her grandfather unnecessarily.

"I trust you, Mr. Solo. I know he's broken the law, and so many other rules of humanity. I'm so sorry..." Again, the brown eyes looked sympathetically at the heartbroken young woman. It was hard to see your heroes fail, and do it so miserably.

"Illya, you still need a shirt..." The blond couldn't head out of here half naked. Napoleon looked to Father Enrique one last time...

"Father, do you have anything...?" The old man shrugged his shoulder, headed for his little private room and in a few minutes came back with a shirt identical to the one he was wearing.

"You will not be indebted to the lifestyle, only try and be careful while wearing it. I will pray for your protection." With that he offered it to the young man who had earlier appeared to him like that angel of light. Now he would don the clothing of a priest. It was a fitting garment for a man so used to disguises.

"I will be careful...I promise". Illya slipped into the black shirt with only a slight indication of the discomfort the movement caused him.

"At least it's your usual color". Napoleon had to grin a little, in spite of the seriousness of their predicament.

All things in order, weapons checked and the innocents safely inside of the little space that served as the priest's private quarters; the two agents crept back into the secret passageway through which they had come only an hour earlier, finding the other door that led into the laboratory. Illya slid through first, followed by his partner. Each man gained their footing and quickly surveyed the stark white room that was only slightly blemished by the black safe that stood agape and sooty from the explosion. They knew the virus would be dormant by now, and stepped to the doorway that led up and into the patio area above.

"There's the monitor. If there's anyone up there, we should be able to see them from here.' Napoleon nodded to the screen as he spoke.

"It appears to be clear, but for how long? If we're going to make our move, it should be now". Illya was at the steps leading up, waiting for Napoleon to signal an all clear...

"Okay, now"

With that, Illya pushed open the door that allowed access to the stairs, easing up with his back against the wall. His Special was poised, ready for action if needed as he climbed each step, slowing making his way to the patio's disguised entry. Pushing it up just slightly, he peered beneath the edge, scanning a horizon of stone that lay beyond him. Without a word, he pushed up until he had enough room to emerge onto the patio, flattening himself against the ground as he crawled toward the hiding place he had occupied next to Napoleon the night before. His partner was right behind him as the two made it without incident into the yucca covering, well concealed from view.

"Now what?" The question was almost an accusation, but Illya was waiting for the plan from his strategizing friend. They each had their roles to fulfill, and Napoleon was in charge of planning.

"I think we need a car...like that one over there". The American was pointing to the nearest vehicle, where two men were leaning against it in a regrettably casual posture; regrettable for the two men. With noiseless efficiency, the UNCLE agents were upon the two Thrush within a few short minutes, taking them out and tossing them into a convenient shrub. The keys were still in the ignition, and before Napoleon could shut his door the Russian had set them in motion; the other two Thrush were startled as the car drove past, but were soon unconscious as Napoleon shot them both with sleep darts, eliminating the threat to the hiding trio they had left in the church.

Now the two agents set out from Santa Isabella, heading west towards the Thrush hacienda that Maria had described to them. This road would take them there, the signposts of it's existence would be the sentries they would encounter at the entrance to a long drive. The uneven road did little to deter the driver, and the trip took less than ten minutes with Illya at the wheel, swerving to avoid several small animals and the occasional tumbleweed. Riding horseback would have been a more comfortable trip, but Napoleon held his tongue. The stolen sedan would gain them entrance, and the rest would be a matter of who else they might encounter once on the doorstep.

They had one thing in mind: Just get there and grab the scientist, if they could.

The swirls of dust that rose up behind the sedan was a signal to the men who stood watch at the entry to the Thrush enclave. They recognized the car, and with the speed that Illya was taking this road the two sentries didn't have time to check the interior or the occupants of the blazing sedan. The two UNCLE agents both held on as the turn was made, and then suddenly it stopped. Without warning the two men jumped out and shot the sentries, felling them on the spot. Without pausing the agents were back in the car and they continued on towards the house up ahead. Napoleon was trying to figure out how many men might be on site; they had already sent nine, so there shouldn't be too many left. Probably a driver and one other guard, possibly a lab tech for Wizener.

"So, I'm thinking there might be as many as four or five of them left. What do you think?" He posed the question to his manic friend whose driving was almost as much a danger to them now as the waiting Thrush.

"I would think so...about that. I think I'm bleeding again..." Illya's voice trailed off a little, not wanting to sound alarmed, but feeling he should alert his partner to the possibility of him not holding out for a prolonged battle.

"How bad?" He shrugged at the question, it wouldn't stop him from going in.

"Not bad, but I'd like to make this quick if we can". Napoleon agreed; quick and efficient would be his preference.

"Do you think Wizener will put up a fight if we mention Maria? He might agree to come with us for her sake". The CEA held out little hope for that, nor did he believe his friend felt it would happen that way. "I doubt it, but we can put it to him".

Illya slowed the car as they approached the hacienda. It was low and long, with an interior patio that could be seen from the front. There was only one car parked, and a solitary guard sat in a low slung chair near the entry. It wasn't a front door, but a wrought iron gate that opened onto the patio, with the house built around it. The man got up from his perch by the gate as the car pulled up in front of him. He didn't have time to consider who it was pulling the trigger as it launched the sleep dart that caught him in the neck. The man went down quickly, even as the two agents were getting out of the vehicle and heading through the gate.

Another man was sitting in front of a door leading into the house. He saw some movement, and rose up slowly from his seat. In the same instant that he realized the two men coming into the courtyard weren't his fellow Thrush, he was cut down by another sleep dart from Napoleon's gun. Sensing that there might be at least one more inside, the intruding agents slowed their pace enough to get settled on a plan. It was determined that each of them would take an opposite direction from the other, hopefully without encountering another guard immediately. Maria had told them that Wizener's bedroom was to the left of the front door, which was in the middle of the longest section of house that faced the road. The entire house folded itself around the courtyard, very much in keeping with Spanish and Mexican architecture. Napoleon would take that left side, while Illya would go to the right; they would be able to cover the entire hacienda quickly as long as no one got in their way.

"Ready?" Blue eyes indicated yes to the inquiring brown of his partner.

They opened the door slowly, half expecting to be met by some opposition, but there wasn't anyone in the entry, or in the room beyond. Illya toured the expansive living room and kitchen, indicating that it was clear before heading off to the hallway on the right. Two more rooms were located along that route, but equally unoccupied as the first had been. He finished the short tour and headed back towards the center and behind Napoleon's path to the left side of the house. As he progressed down that hall, he could hear voices being raised. He recognized his friend and assumed the other was Wizener. Napoleon was standing in the doorway to what must have been a bedroom. He looked as though he were backing out, which warned Illya that something was wrong. He came up behind his partner just in time to see the scientist holding a vial in his right hand, a gun in his left. He was swinging the container around as he spoke, ranting about his brilliant plan and the legacy he would have left in a world that was undeserving of his genius.

"Napoleon...has he opened the vial? Is there anything else like it in there?" Illya knew the vial must contain the virus; the old man was insane and he wouldn't think twice about unleashing it now, killing them all. They might contain it if they had to; they could lock themselves in the room and hope no one else came near within the next hour. He could shoot Wizener and hope that the vial wouldn't break...there wasn't a good alternative here, because it didn't look as though the madman would go down without doing great harm.

"Illya, what are the chances if that gets broken open?" Napoleon was hopeful that it wouldn't come to shooting the deranged man; he thought of Maria and how she truly loved him. It would be difficult to explain it to her.

"There is no alternative to stopping the release. We must either kill him before he can open it, or somehow lock him in with it and hope that it doesn't permeate the atmosphere. It's deadly either way". Illya was a pessimist by nature, and this took little coaxing in that direction. The virus was deadly, it was airborne, and it had a life expectency of one hour in the air.

"Dr. Wizener...Maria is waiting back in Santa Isabella. She very much wants to see you again...safe. Will you put the vial down and come with us...to see Maria?" Napoleon hoped that the mention of the man's granddaughter would somehow influence him, cause him to come out of this lunacy that seemed to rule him.

"No, Mr. Solo. Maria doesn't understand...none of you understand. I have the answer to so many questions right here in my hand. We can eliminate hunger and crime...we have the power to populate the earth with only those who meet the criteria of Thrush's greatest doctrines. This, gentlemen...this is the answer. But, I fear that it will never be utilized as I have envisioned it, so it will end here, I suppose...with us". With that he looked to the two men in the doorway, and with a flourish of his left hand he swept it around the room as though hunting for a target, coming back to himself and in an instant...

"No...both agents yelled at once, but it was too late. As the man's body fell to the hard tile floor, the vial flew from his right hand towards the door in which Napoleon stood. Illya pushed him back and grabbed the large iron handle on the bedroom door. In less time than either of them would have thought possible, the door was closed as they heard the crash of the glass vial within. Neither of them stopped moving but as quickly as they could run were headed out of the front door and into the car they had only recently arrived in.

"Hurry...this place will be toxic within minutes!" Illya knew too well what the potential danger was, and he hoped fervently that they had avoided any contamination by the quick action each had taken. He had out his communicator before they had cleared the circular drive...

"Open channel D, emergency status..."

"Waverly here. Mr. Kuryakin, your report" Succinct and without delay, the old man was secretly relieved to hear the Russian's voice. He recognized a stress in it, however, and waited for what he dreaded might be bad news.

"Sir, Wizener is dead...but he broke a vial of the virus inside of the house in which he was staying. There were two other men in the area, but they will be dead shortly. I believe that Mr. Solo and I were able to get out in time...we will know within the next half hour or so". Napoleon glanced over at his friend, wondering how they would spend the next thirty minutes...and where.

"Very well, Mr. Kuryakin. What are you plans?" Mr. Waverly knew they would need to wait it out; the two of them together, but alone. If they had absorbed any of the virus, they couldn't go back to Santa Isabella; they couldn't afford to expose anyone else to it.

"We will get far enough away from the hacienda to not risk additional exposure, sir. And...we will wait".

"You will contact me at the end of this period of time, Mr. Kuryakin...do you understand?" He would not tolerate losing his two best agents...that wouldn't do at all.

"Yes sir. We'll report in a half an hour. Kuryakin out". He replaced the communicator and motioned for Napoleon to pull over.

"We have enough distance. We're halfway between there and town, so...it should be safe". Napoleon pulled off of the road and drove about twenty feet onto sandy soil. Turning off the ignition he gave a long sigh, then laid his head against the top of the seat back. He shot a look at his friend and saw the wet spot on his shirt; he was bleeding again, profusely from the look of it.

"Are you feeling ok? It looks like you've bled through the bandages and onto your shirt". Father Enrique's shirt...he wondered what the old priest would say now.

"It won't matter if we're dead from the virus". Illya cut a glance at Napoleon, hating that he suddenly felt unlucky and doomed. Waverly had said to report in, so it seemed a good idea to plan on it. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes, wishing he could sleep, knowing he needed to remain conscious...wishing and hoping...

"Illya...stay awake!" Napoleon was afraid of shock, of the virus or of being caught here by Thrush. Suddenly everything seemed wrong. They weren't supposed to die like this, and Illya wasn't supposed to bleed to death. How long would it take? Oh, thirty minutes...how much was left? Twenty-five...this was going to take forever.

"Napoleon' Illya was looking out the window at the sandy landscape, feeling the heat of the day pressing in through the glass and metal.

"Do you ever regret choosing this life? Or, do you think you were simply born to it, and this is all you will ever be?" The Russian was going to drift into something decidedly grim, there was nothing to be done about it.

Napoleon thought about it, though. Sometimes it did seem as though there had never been any other choice for him; this life had been laid out before him and he had simply walked into it, fully accepting of all the limitations.

"I think that some of us are...naturals. I guess I could have done something else, but this is what I'm really good at. Well, except for the part where I'm possibly going to die out here in the desert...with you". That last bit was both a comfort and a curse. He hated that either of them might perish right here and now because of some lunatic scientist. But, to have a friend like Illya...a man who had proved to be more a brother to him that blood could have purchased. He suddenly remembered a bible verse that he'd had to learn somewhere in his childhood.

"There is a friend who sticks closer than a brother". He didn't remember where it was, only that it had been written.

"Where is that from? Or did you just come up with that as a testament to our suffering?" Just a hint of a smile played at the blond's lips as he looked through fading vision at his friend. Yes, closer than a brother...

"I just remembered it...Sunday school or something...it's been there all of these years but I never thought of it until now". He could see Illya slipping away. The blood was pooling between his fingers as the Russian tried to staunch the flow of it, but he was losing; he was slipping into unconsciousness before the time was even up.

"Illya...tovarisch..." Napoleon had no choice but to let him go under. He couldn't risk going back to town...

Napoleon pulled the limp body closer to him, putting his hand against the wound to finish what Illya had started. They had to report in to Wavelry in...fifteen minutes.

"Only fifteen minutes my friend and it will all be over..." And so he waited.

Nothing. There was nothing wrong with him, and the half hour was over. Napoleon turned the key and gunned the engine, tearing across the dirt and onto the little two lane road that would take him back to town. Five minutes and he was roaring into Santa Isabella, and in sight of an UNCLE helicopter that had brought in a clean up crew and a medical team. He stopped just short of ramming the chopper, yelling at a medic to get over and take care of his partner. Once that was underway and he felt confident that Illya was going to be fine, he ran to the church to find the priest and Maria. Both of them were sitting in the front of the church, answering questions and nervously awaiting the return of the two men who had saved them from the Thrush plot.

"Maria!" She heard Napoleon's voice and turned, grabbing Father Enrique's sleeve and pointing to the vestibule entrance.

"Napoleon...' her voice trailed off as she saw him entering alone. Where was Illya, and where was her grandfather?

"Are you alone? What happened out there?" He dreaded answering that question, but knew that it would do no good to avoid it; she was a brave young woman and already understood the dangerous world in which Wizener had been living.

"I'm sorry, Maria. Your grandfather...he's dead. He took his own life. He was not in his right mind, Maria". She had known this would happen, but still the tears came as Napoleon took her and held her while she wept, mourning for the loss of the man she had hoped was still there inside.

"Mr. Solo, where is Mr. Kuryakin?" The weary looking priest had a concern in his voice that was unmistakable. The young man had been his angel of light, had saved him from the madman with the knife. Where was he now?

"Illya is going to be fine...the medics are tending to him now". Napoleon said it with a sigh of relief. The Russian continued to garner most of the damage between them, but still he always pulled through. He would this time as well. A loud beeping interrupted the reunion, and Napoleon reached into his pocket to bring out his communicator.

"Solo here...we're still here, Mr. Waverly".

~finis~

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