Part V - The Slipper

"What do we do now?" she asked, as soon as she had untied the U.N.C.L.E. agents.

"We escape." replied Illya blandly. "Did you have anything else in mind?"

"Well, I don't know, I thought maybe you had to blow the place up or something - like in the movies."

"I'll just settle for getting you away from here. Besides, I forgot my exploding shoe heels."

Napoleon had been prowling around the basement and had stopped below a small, dirty window about seven feet off the ground, which was protected by a rusty grid.

"Illya, if I give you a hand, can you check this window? Maybe we can loosen the bars."

"Can't we open the door?" asked Maria, looking dubiously at the window, which sported a collection of cobwebs that would do a horror movie proud.

"Well the door has a much better lock on it, but we could get through. The problem is we have no weapons and no idea of what, or who, is on the other side." Napoleon replied, as he knelt down to let Illya climb on his shoulders. Once his partner was in place, he stood, giving the Russian a chance to look closely at the window.

"Can you hurry up? I'm sure you're heavier than the last time we tried this."

Illya completed his inspection and jumped down. "The bars are quite sound, but the damp has weakened the bricks and mortar. We should be able to yank the whole grid out pretty easily, but it might be noisy."

"No noise. It's going to be a tight fit and we won't all make it if the guards come to check on us. Can we just scrape the mortar away gradually?"

"With what? I don't think they're going to leave us in here all night."

"How about this?" said Maria, holding out one of her shoes. It was, Illya reflected, one of the silliest shoes a woman could possibly wear: a slingback with a painful-looking pointed toe and an even more painful looking 4" stiletto heel. He took the shoe and examined it. The heel was thin enough to fit between the bricks and was tipped with a steel cap.

"This should work quite well. I'll try it."

He turned round and looked expectantly at Napoleon.

Napoleon sighed and knelt so that Illya could stand on his shoulders again.

The heel made quick work of the crumbling mortar, but was hard to manipulate. Illya was forced to bend his head and hunch his shoulders because the ceiling was not high enough to accommodate the combined height of him and Napoleon. The muscles in his arms and back were trembling with fatigue by the time he had freed all the anchor points of the grid.

"Napoleon, I'm going to pull the bars free, you'll need to brace yourself."

The rusty metal scraped free along with a cascade of mortar dust and chips of brick. Illya stepped off Napoleons' shoulders when he was lowered to the floor and saw his partner's aggrieved and dusty face.

"Next time, I get to be the guy at the window."

"Fine. I'll lift you up and you can clear away the cobwebs and force it open."

"Why do I have to clean it? I'm not planning on sticking around."

A spider, probably disturbed by Illya's recent excavations had scuttled down the wall. Illya inclined his head slightly, directing Napoleon's attention toward Dr Kendall. She was staring at the spider with a look of complete, unreasoning, horror.

"I get your point. Maria, I'm going to clear everything away and open the window now. We just need you to be brave for a bit longer."

Maria backed slowly away to the other side of the room, her eyes still fixed on the spider, as if she were convinced it was about to give chase. After casting about for a couple of moments, Napoleon unearthed a bundle of stiff, grimy rags from a corner. Climbing on his partner's back he swiped the rags vigorously across the window, sweeping away the cobwebs and sending an astonishing variety of outraged arachnids scuttling for cover. Finally, with a screech of protest from the rusty hinges that seemed loud enough to rouse the street, he managed to shove the window open.

Napoleon grasped the outer edges of the window and managed to wriggle his shoulders through. For a horrible moment he thought he was stuck, unable to get enough leverage on outside of the wall to push through further, but with no purchase for his feet. A helpful shove from below sent him slithering out into the alley.

As alleys went, Napoleon's first impression was that it wasn't a bad specimen. There was a certain amount of refuse, and almost certainly a healthy population of rodents. On the other hand, the great thing that this alley had going for it, at present anyway, was a complete absence of Thrushes.

He turned round and stuck his arms back through the window to haul Maria through. She seemed reluctant to risk the spiders' old haunt, but Illya whispered something which made her positively enthusiastic to get out, though she looked more scared than ever.

A second later, Illya followed, managing somehow to slip gracefully through the window without needing any help at all.

"Show off" muttered Napoleon.

Illya just grinned, then bent and fitted the now hopelessly battered shoe back onto Maria's foot.

"The heel still seems firmly attached, so it should be all right."

They set off along the alley, Napoleon in front, Illya behind, with Maria between them.

"All right! This was my one pair of dress shoes! They've lasted me since I was in high school. Do you know how boring it is buying these things?"

She's definitely Illya's type more than mine thought Napoleon, as they emerged onto a street.

Within fifteen minutes of making their call from a payphone, they were safely in an U.N.C.L.E. car on their way back to headquarters. Napoleon noticed Illya looking nervously at his watch.

"Urgent appointment?"

The Russian looked back at him, seeming slightly embarrassed.

"You know you said earlier that I had obviously stolen this Tuxedo?"

"Yes?"

"Well, it belongs to Le Brun and he doesn't know I borrowed it. I need to get it back by midnight."

Napoleon looked at his partner. Illya was liberally coated from head to foot in dust, mortar and bits of cobweb.

"I think you should make a full confession. That's his shirt and tie too, isn't it?"

A reluctant nod.

Napoleon sighed.

"Right, well when we get back, I'll get Jane and Susie to look after Maria, while I give you a lesson in one of the most important arts of espionage."

"Oh, what would that be?"

"How to get captured, escape, rescue the damsel AND have a clean suit when you really need one."

"You can get this clean in half an hour?"

"Of course not, but I am Chief Enforcement Agent - we can just slip into Del Floria's and find some substitutes."

"I think these are made-to-measure. Le Brun will know the difference."

Napoleon smiled. He was, Illya knew, genuinely fond of the women who worked in Headquarters, including the married or otherwise unavailable ones. He also had no liking for a certain junior courier who tended to bully them.

"Le Brun is taking the jacket because he thinks he has a date. It's Celestine, you know, that brunette who works in Paris Section IV."

"So?"

"So, the last time I was in Paris, I told her she could do better. A lot better."

"Let me guess, over dinner, in some quiet little restaurant."

"True, but after I left she started seeing Du Bois from Research. They got married last week - I was in Rio at the time, but I sent a telegram."

"And no one's told Le Brun."

"Not yet. To be honest I think some of the ladies are rather looking forward to seeing him find out."

"I'm so glad you can fix Illya's problem," Maria interrupted "but what about mine? I can't spend the rest of my life being pressed by these maniacs!"

"Well, it may take a little longer, but I'm sure we can help you too."

"How? Do you think you've scared them off?" Maria seemed doubtful, but was looking at Napoleon much more warmly since he'd saved her from Thrush, or possibly from the spiders in the cellar.

"No, they won't be put off that easily, but we'll take you to a safe house and take care of you until they're dealt with."

"What do you mean, dealt with?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well, that's when we blow their secret base up, just like in the movies," said Illya smiling mischievously at her.

Sitting there in his stolen, grimy tuxedo with smudges of dust on his face Illya looked like Oliver Twist's big brother, thought Solo. Illya was perfectly aware of the effect his seemingly-innocent looks had on women, and had no hesitation in exploiting it when he wanted to attract their attention. It usually worked, every bit as well as his partner's charm, or in this case, a great deal better.

"I hate to spoil your moment Cinderella, but we're back."

Illya tore his eyes from Maria to glare at Solo, before getting out of the car.

"I'll handle things here," said Napoleon "You take Maria to the safe house and get her settled in."

Illya nodded enthusiastically and moved round to the driver's door.

"Oh, and Illya, don't keep her up all night with your beautiful equations..."