The Locust Affair
by: RAC
Rated NC-17
The Locust Affair: Chapter 2
Music was quietly playing, the tea light candle was glowing, the food had been exquisite, and so was the blond sitting across from him. Napoleon smiled at her over his brandy snifter. "You have the most beautiful eyes. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Lisa blushed.
Something niggled at the back of Napoleon's mind. He pushed it away as he realized that Lisa was half way through a sentence.
"…through with men."
"I beg your pardon?"
"My girlfriends. They all say they're through with men, but that's just because they don't get to meet men like you."
Through with men. Napoleon thought the phrase sounded familiar. He snapped his fingers. Mike, Mike had said that he was through with women.
The waiter appeared in response to the snap. "May I get you something?"
Napoleon looked up at him, momentarily confused by his appearance. Then he remembered the snap. "Ah, no, thank you." He glanced at Lisa. "Do you need something, my dear?"
She blushed prettily again and shook her head. Then she leaned across the table as if to impart a great secret. Napoleon leaned toward her, willing to play the game. "You're all I need, Napoleon. You're the perfect end to a very long day." She sighed, her breasts lifting in response to her breath. "I like it when it's just the two of us. There's always too many people around at work."
Napoleon grinned, and then he winked at her. She smiled coyly in response. Napoleon took a sip of his brandy, and then all the pieces fell into place. I'm through with women, you'll be what I need, the wink, the admiration, the…the flash of desire in his eyes, the wanting to be alone with Illya. Napoleon's jaw dropped open.
"Napoleon, what is it? You have the oddest look on your face."
Napoleon was too nonplussed to answer right away. Mike Donfield had been hitting on his partner. He was sure of it. Napoleon ran through Illya's responses - the blushes, the smiles, the getting flustered - and he reached his first conclusion. Illya knew, and he hadn't minded. Napoleon shook his head. Illya couldn't possibly have known. He just thought that Mike was being friendly. Most people didn't take the time to get friendly with Illya because of his surly nature. So, of course, Illya would be flustered. That had to be the answer. Because otherwise…that would mean that Illya was…
"Napoleon?"
Napoleon put his hand up to stop her from speaking. He wasn't done thinking. Illya? A lover of men? He couldn't be. He and Napoleon had been partnered for over a year. They were together more than some married couples. There's no way Napoleon could have missed that. Nevertheless, being a master at making moves himself, and now that he'd put two and two together, there was no doubt that Mike was putting the moves on his Russian partner, which meant one of two things.
Either Illya was clueless and was possibly going to find himself in a potentially compromising position, or Illya knew exactly what was going on, and was hoping for said compromising positions. Napoleon looked at his watch. In fact, right now, even as he sat here with Lisa, Illya and Mike could be…
Napoleon didn't take the time to sort through his emotional response to his thoughts. He just knew he didn't like it, any of it. And he had to see Illya. Right now. So, for the first time in as long as he could remember, unless he had Waverly breathing down his neck, or his partner's life was in danger, he looked into a beautiful woman's willing eyes and said, "I'm sorry, but I have to cut our evening short."
"Does it have to do with the case you're working on?"
At that exact moment Napoleon's communicator went off. He snagged it out of his pocket and quickly stopped the noise. "Napoleon."
"Napoleon, it's Illya. You need to come here right away."
"I take it this is bad news."
"Very bad."
"Where are you?"
"Mike's lab." Illya gave Napoleon the address and Napoleon scribbled it down on a cocktail napkin.
"I'll need to run Lisa home first."
Lisa put her hand on Napoleon's sleeve and shook her head. "I'll take a cab. Just go."
Napoleon nodded, smiling at her. "I'll be there in ten minutes." He turned off his communicator.
Lisa was just staring at him. "How did you know?"
It took Napoleon a second to figure out that she was thinking he had been cutting their evening short because of some sort of psychic connection to his partner, and not because he was short circuiting at the idea of Mike putting the moves on Illya. He casually shrugged. "We've been partners for a while."
"Wow." Her eyes were filled with stars.
He pulled out his wallet, lay down enough money to cover the bill, and gave Lisa money to cover her cab fare. He gave her a peck on the cheek. "You're an angel." And with that he raced out the door.
The concern for whatever had gotten his partner so worried was diluted by the extraordinary relief at finding out that Illya and Mike had clearly been at the lab all evening. He felt like he'd won some race against time, even though he wasn't quite sure what the race was, or even what the prize was.
He checked the address one more time and then pulled into a parking lot. In less than a minute he was yanking open the door to the lab. Illya and Mike had their heads together, taking turns looking into the eyepiece of a microscope. Illya looked up as the door opened. "Ah, good, you're here. Come look."
Napoleon obeyed. Both Illya and Mike backed up and allowed Napoleon access to the eyepiece. Squinting one eye shut, hoping he'd know what the hell he was looking at, he focused in. His eyebrows lifted. "That looks like metal." He pulled back and gestured at the slide. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"
"This is our locust."
"It's not a real locust?"
Illya shook his head. "It's a miniaturized robot. I've never seen such detail work. It looks almost like the real thing on the outside, but it's all manmade."
"Why would THRUSH make little locust robots, when they could be using the real thing?"
"Think of it, Napoleon. These can do the same amount of damage, but they can be programmed to go where THRUSH wants them to go. And they have an indefinite lifespan."
Mike chimed in. "They can be sent from one crop to the next to the next, with nothing to stand in their way."
Illya's brow furrowed as he continued to pain the dismal picture. "The only thing that will kill them is fire or explosion, which will also kill the farms we need to protect. So either way THRUSH wins, either their robots destroy the crops, or we do it by trying to eliminate them."
Napoleon looked into the microscope again. "For the millions that this must be costing them, it seems as if there are simpler ways to destroy America's economy."
"This is THRUSH we're dealing with. They love technological gadgets. It's part of their mission statement: Technological Hierarchy."
Napoleon scowled. "Right. All focused on the subjugation of humanity. Why do something as easy as toppling Wall Street with some injudicious spending when they can have fun making a million little metal robots and unleashing them on an unsuspecting public?"
"We have to find where they're making these and destroy them. It's the only answer. Once they release them, we won't be able to stop them."
Napoleon locked gazes with his partner. "We've got the reconnaissance photos being taken at first light. I'm assuming there are specific micro circuitry elements we can track?"
Illya nodded. "We need to get back to UNCLE and reverse engineer the bug, so we can determine exactly what we should be looking for."
Napoleon pursed his lips, thinking. This could be a good thing, at least from one perspective. "So, Mike, I guess we're through with your services. Now that we know it's not a real bug, we can probably handle things from here. We appreciate the help you've given us."
Mike wasn't so willing to be dismissed. "I can still help. Even if it is metal, I'm still an expert at dissection."
Illya nodded. "Yes, I think Mike can still help. Plus, he is an innocent. As soon as THRUSH gets wind that we're on to them, the trail could lead them to Mike, and he could be taken and interrogated or used as a hostage."
Napoleon wanted to argue the point, but he couldn't, not if Illya was going to bring innocents into it. "Fine, wrap it all up, let's go."
Mike and Illya worked as a team, packaging up the small components of the locust robot, securing the pieces against breakage. Illya glanced up at Napoleon. "You can head back if you want to. We'll be right behind you."
"Aren't you coming with me?" Napoleon winced at the hint of whine in his voice.
"No, I better go with Mike. Someone should be with him."
Napoleon felt that undefined prize slipping away. "We can all go in my car."
It almost looked as if Illya might argue but then he agreed. He wrapped up a few more items, taking a last look around the lab, making sure nothing was being left behind. Then he picked up the box of bug parts and gestured toward the door. "Let's go."
Napoleon took the box from Illya and handed it to Mike. "The system works better when the people with the guns have their hands free."
Mike swallowed nervously, but then he grinned and gladly took the box. "Works for me."
Once back at headquarters, the three of them toiled for several hours. Mike and Illya worked slowly and gingerly, pulling apart the miniaturized robot. They moved as if they'd been working together for years, anticipating each other's needs. Napoleon tried not to let it bother him. He specifically refused to try to figure out why it was bothering him. He took the small pieces handed to him by the two men, and working with UNCLE's top engineers, separated them out into two categories.
The first category was composed of items THRUSH must be manufacturing on their own. The second type were items determined to be available for purchase. On those, Napoleon initiated searches looking for any massive orders for either manufacturing or purchasing of those pieces.
Napoleon rubbed his bleary eyes. The manpower alone to assemble the millions, or hundreds of thousands, or however many THRUSH was creating, of these monstrosities boggled the mind. He would never understand THRUSH. He decided that was probably a good thing. He glanced up at his partner. Illya looked dead on his feet. He opened his mouth to speak but Mike beat him to the punch.
"Illya, you need some sleep. C'mon. Let me take you home."
Napoleon felt like punching him. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Illya was his partner. "He's on my way. I'll take him home."
"I don't mind. I can take him home."
"You live in the other direction. I'll take him."
"You guys are the ones who said I shouldn't be alone. I can spend the night on his couch and bring him back in the morning."
Napoleon barely kept from snorting in derision. Yeah, he thought to himself, I know where you're planning on sleeping. He gritted his teeth and tried to keep his voice from showing it. "You'll be safer staying here. I can drive him home and pick him up, just like I usually do."
Illya's head bobbed back and forth as the two men argued. His voice was irritated when he interrupted. "In case it has escaped your attention, I am actually present in the room, and more than capable of deciding when I need to get some sleep and how I will get home." He shook his head in seeming disgust at both of them. "I'm hungry. I'm going to the cafeteria for something to eat." Without another word he left the lab.
Mike and Napoleon glared at each other, and then sprinted after him. He was already piling food on his tray when they caught up. Mike spoke first, trying to mollify the Russian agent. "Sorry, Illya. I didn't mean…"
Illya turned to him. "Mike, I do not wish to talk right now. I wish to eat."
Napoleon knew better than to ever try to mollify Illya; it always backfired. He grinned as Mike tried again. "I just thought you looked tired, that's all."
"And how were you planning on getting me home? Your car is back at your lab. Were you planning on carrying me home?" He cut his hand through the air as if to slice away any further foolishness. "Be quiet now, or go away."
Mike put up his hands in a sign of surrender. Illya watched him for another few seconds as if waiting for more stupidity. When Mike wisely stayed silent, Illya went back to his tray. Then he turned to Napoleon and brandished his silverware at his partner. "And that goes for you, too."
Napoleon looked aggrieved. "I haven't said a thing."
Illya let out a snort of disgust. He left his tray sitting on the counter and grabbed Napoleon's arm, pulling him away. "What the hell were you doing back there?"
Napoleon pulled himself up to his full height, put a hand to his chest, and looked completely wounded. "I have no earthly idea what you're talking about."
Illya stared up at Napoleon, as if trying to read his mind. "You are determined to be contrary tonight, aren't you?" He glared at Napoleon, and then glared at Mike. "I think I am tired. I am going to bed, upstairs in one of the sleep rooms. Goodnight."
Mike apparently took the glare as an invitation to join them. "What's going on?"
Illya repeated himself. "I'm going to bed, upstairs."
Mike pointed at the tray. "What about your food?"
"Eat it yourself." Illya stalked out.
The two men watched him leave. Then Mike faced Napoleon. "Are you two…?" He made a vague waving gesture with his hand between Napoleon and the newly departed Russian.
Napoleon pursed his lips as he considered Mike. He ran through several possible answers in his mind, and decided most of them would get him killed by his partner. He went for the ignorant approach. He widened his eyes. "Are we two…what?"
It was clear Mike was taking the time to work through a choice of responses as well. He finally shook his head. "Never mind." He yawned. "I'm tired too. Where exactly did Illya go? Are there more beds there?"
Napoleon's eyes narrowed. He was tempted to physically eject Mike from the building, but he decided Illya would kill him for that too. "I guess I could do with a little shut eye, myself. There's a sleeping area on the fifth level. I'll take you up there. I might as well sleep here too, as late as it is."
Mike nodded and he waited for Napoleon to lead the way. There was a shout from the cashier. "Hey, Solo. Who's gonna pay for the chow?"
Napoleon had to curb the desire to forcibly eject the cashier as well. He gave him a tight smile. "Just put it on Section Two's tab, Charlie."
"No can do. The old man said no more credit."
The smile getting tighter, a smile that would have made any THRUSH agent start running, Napoleon walked over to the cashier. "Would it interest you to know that we've been up all night trying to save this country's farmlands, which coincidentally is a lot of what gets served here and therefore helps to pay for your salary?"
"Not really. But it would interest me if you'd pull out your wallet and pay for your partner's chow. How am I supposed to stay on budget if you guys keep grabbing food, and then leave without paying?" He pointed at the offending tray. "I can't put that food back. That stuff costs money, you know."
"'Stuff' being a perfect choice of word."
"Hey, are you complaining about the food?"
"Perish the thought." Napoleon yanked out his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. "That should cover it."
Charlie plucked the five from Napoleon's hand and stared at it as if he was sure it was counterfeit.
Napoleon rolled his eyes and turned, and noticed that Mike was gone, clearly having decided to strike out on his own. "Dammit." He bolted from the cafeteria. He didn't want to start a panic, so he refrained from running, but he walked at a very brisk pace to the elevator and then stabbed at the call button several times. "Come on, come on."
The elevator arrived and a supply tech walked out. Much to Napoleon's dismay he wanted to chat. Not willing to just bite the man's head off, as he was one of the supply clerks who was always willing to hand over to Napoleon the last minute supplies he needed without demanding a requisition form filled out in triplicate, Napoleon spent a few very frustrating minutes talking about the man's just finished vacation in Colorado, and the wonders of fly fishing.
Finally he yawned, apologized, and pleaded the need for sleep. As the technician wandered off he viciously stabbed the call button again. When the elevator arrived, he entered and went through the same ritual, punching first the fifth level button, and then the close door button repeatedly until the door actually closed. When the door opened at the desired floor, he scanned the hallway in both directions. No one was in sight. He knew Mike was with Illya. He just knew it. Napoleon was about to start flinging doors open when he forced himself to take a deep breath. He needed a plan. His brow furrowed. No, first he needed to figure out just what the hell he was doing. Why did it matter so much?
He knew he was important to Illya. After all, they were partners. And friends. Best friends, really. Napoleon was pretty sure he was the only good friend Illya had. Napoleon liked that. He liked knowing that he was that important to Illya. Women had never gotten between them, not for long, anyway. Sure, he knew that Illya might get married some day, Napoleon might get married, but that was a long way off, after they retired, and even then, it wouldn't affect their relationship. They'd still be best friends.
But if Illya was…had leanings toward men, if he fell in love with a man, that would be completely different. It felt threatening. It felt like it would take Illya away from him. Napoleon would no longer be number one in the Russian's life. They'd still be partners, and friends, but all the things Illya did with Napoleon now, all the non-work guy things, he'd have someone else for. Where would Napoleon fit in at that point?
He leaned against a wall and tried to get his bearings. This was ridiculous. First of all, for all he knew, Illya was as heterosexual as Napoleon had always thought he was. Second of all, even if he were…Napoleon took a deep breath…homosexual…it didn't mean he was going to just fall in love with Mike. Even if Mike was really good looking, and charming, and smart, and just because he flustered Illya and made him blush, it didn't mean anything. Napoleon had to consciously unclench his jaw.
Homosexual. He shook his head. Bisexual. He'd seen Illya with women. Or at least he'd always assumed that Illya was following through. Maybe he hadn't. The idea didn't appall Napoleon, other than the fact that he hadn't known, hadn't even suspected. He wasn't completely unversed in same-sex relations. On the front lines in Korea you did what you had to do to get through a night. And some of those nights got really dark, and really lonely. And he hadn't exactly hated it, what he'd done to survive on those nights; he hadn't hated it at all. It just had never become something that defined him.
A renewed sense of urgency flared in Napoleon. Time for action. He knew that if he just barged in on Illya and interrupted something, and didn't have some dire message about THRUSH having forced entry into headquarters with machine guns, Illya would take his head off. He weighed that against how he felt about not interrupting anything that Illya might actually be doing, and Napoleon decided that having a head was overrated.
Before sanity could take control again, Napoleon started opening doors. The first two rooms were empty, a fact for which Napoleon could only be grateful. He left the doors open. The doors were supposed to be left open if the rooms were empty. He'd have to have a talk with the cleaning lady again.
Hoping they'd all be empty, he opened the third door. Somebody was in the bed, fast asleep, a someone who clearly wasn't an agent, because an agent would already be out of the bed with a gun in his or her hand. It would have been hard to explain the interruption, and Napoleon was glad he didn't need to try. He shut the door quietly. As he reached for the doorknob on the fourth room, he heard talking. He leaned in toward the door and listened, finally shaking his head in frustration when he couldn't make out any of the words.
Knock or barge in? Napoleon wrestled with the decision for about five seconds, his head tilting to first one side and then the other. He decided on both. He rapped sharply and then opened the door. His eyes took everything in as he put his mouth on automatic.
"Ah, there you are Mike. Wanted to make sure you hadn't gotten lost." He mentally catalogued what he was seeing. Bad news first, they're both on the bed. But, good news is they both have their clothes on. Well, most of their clothes on. Illya looked like he was partially undressed but he was under the covers. "Let me show you where you can sleep. We don't want to keep Illya from his beauty rest." He grinned at Illya, ignoring the icy blast coming his way from those arctic blue eyes. More bad news, he thought, they're sitting pretty darn close, but the good news was that it didn't look like there'd been any touching going on.
Napoleon walked over to the bed, gesturing to Mike, intent on his goal of getting the man out of this room and into his own. He kept talking. "Don't give me that look, Illya, you're the one who made your own grownup decision that you needed to sleep. I'm just doing my part to make sure you're not disturbed." Of course, he had rapped on the door, giving them a second's notice, they might have been touching. Napoleon gave Illya a quick once over.
Mike frowned. "I just wanted to talk to him for a minute. Just tell me where my room is, I can find it on my own."
Napoleon shook his head. "Sorry. You two can chat later. Depending on what our research turns up, Illya might be blowing up a factory tomorrow. I'd just as soon Illya had a few hours of sleep before he starts handling explosives." No, Illya didn't look like he'd been being pawed. His lips weren't swollen, his hair wasn't mussed, and there wasn't any sort of telltale bulge in his crotch, not that Napoleon could see much with the covers over his lap.
"Napoleon." Illya's voice was frosty.
Napoleon ignored him. He was in the middle of imagining what Illya would look like if his lips were swollen with desire, and his hair was all mussed, and if he were lying there with a raging hard-on. The picture sent a jolt through Napoleon's body, and started some tingling in his own groin.
"Napoleon." The frost had turned into a blizzard.
Mike was being cooperative, Napoleon had to give him that. He was up and halfway to the door. Napoleon made as if to follow him.
"Napoleon." Avalanche warnings ahead.
Napoleon ushered Mike out the door and then he turned, facing his partner, figuring he was far enough away to get out the door and shut it behind him if Illya decided to pounce. "Yes?" He put on his most innocent look.
"After you have finished tucking Mike into bed, would you please come back here?" It was extraordinary, Napoleon thought, that words so politely spoken could sound so menacing.
"Of course." He flashed Illya a smile, felt the reassuring presence of his gun under his suit jacket, and shut the door.
Mike was standing there, waiting for him. "Will he be in any danger on this mission?"
Napoleon shot him a disbelieving glance. "You do remember what we do for a living, right?"
"Yeah, I know. But…"
Napoleon took him by the arm. "Don't worry. We're both very good at what we do. Besides, he has me to watch his back, just like I have him." He opened the door to the room farthest from Illya, and took a peak, hoping it was empty. It was. He showed Mike in. "Toiletries are in the bathroom, and the bathroom's through there." He pointed at a closed door across the small room. "See you in the morning."
Mike scrunched his face up. "Are you sure you two aren't…?"
Napoleon just gave him a smile. He turned and went back into the hallway, closing the door behind him, wishing he could bolt it shut with a steel bar. He moved to the room next to Illya's and opened it up, pleased that it, too, was empty. He flicked the light on, claiming it, and left the door open.
He stood outside of Illya's door for a moment, not looking forward to the upcoming altercation. He took a deep breath and opened the door. Illya was sitting right where he'd left him, the eyes still shooting daggers. He closed the door and leaned against it. "I just want to remind you that I'm armed."
That comment inspired a Russian curse that made Napoleon wince. Illya got out of bed. He was only wearing boxers and a T-shirt. Napoleon thought that it should make him seem less threatening, but it didn't. "Have you completely gone out of your mind?"
Napoleon realized the only really honest answer to that was yes. He wondered if it would surprise the Russian enough to calm him down if he just went ahead and admitted it. He tried it. "Yes."
It seemed to stop his partner in his tracks. "Yes?"
Napoleon nodded. "I do seem to have lost my mind, just a little bit." He held up his hand, showing a small space between thumb and forefinger. Napoleon watched, intrigued, as the anger on Illya's face gave way to curiosity. Ah, the lure of the scientist to study the clinically insane.
Illya walked over to him, and stood just a few inches in front of him, studying him intently. "Why did you come in here? You have never concerned yourself with the amount of sleep I've gotten before a mission."
"That's not strictly true. I've kept Waverly from sending you on missions when you've been up for days. Lack of sleep makes any agent more susceptible to errors."
"Napoleon, please, do not insult me. I haven't even been up for 24 hours."
Napoleon frantically searched his mind for a credible reason for barging in the way he did. He came up empty handed. He gazed down at his partner and was taken aback at how small he seemed. Napoleon knew he had a few inches on the man, but this close, and this not dressed, Illya seemed…the perfect size to hold.
Disconcerted, Napoleon tried to take a step back only to realize there was nowhere to go. He was already leaning on the door. He put his hands in his pockets, anything to keep himself from following through on his crazy thoughts. That brought the conversation full circle. "Well, let's just chalk it off to me being crazy, and call it a night." One hand came out of a pocket and reached for the doorknob behind him.
Illya was faster and he slammed a hand against the door, keeping it shut. It put him even closer. Napoleon's eyes wandered over Illya's hair, he could see the fine texture and he wondered what it would feel like to touch it, really touch it, not like the occasional pats he gave Illya when he wanted to infuriate him. Then his gaze moved over Illya's face, the blue eyes, the strong jaw, the full lower lip. His eyes got stuck there, and he found himself licking his own lips.
Napoleon realized it had gotten awfully quiet. He glanced back up into Illya's eyes and saw his partner was subjecting him to a startled scrutiny. Illya's voice was soft and a bit on the husky side and it did funny things to Napoleon's insides. "Napoleon, are you…do you…?"
Napoleon listened to Illya stumble over his sentence, and then watched as Illya licked his own lips. The Russian hadn't made any effort to move away, and Napoleon couldn't help but notice how close their bodies were, how many places they were almost touching. The room suddenly felt hot. His hand moved up to loosen his tie a bit; it felt like it was strangling him.
The movement caused Illya to take a step back, and he shook his head. "Bozhe moi! What am I thinking? Your insanity must be contagious."
Napoleon wasn't sure if he was relieved or frustrated that the moment had passed. Fully acknowledging his insanity, he tried to recapture it. "Just what were you thinking, Illya?"
Illya shook his head again. "Something so ridiculous I think I need to have my own head examined." He reached past Napoleon and started to pull open the door, encouraging Napoleon out of the way, none too gently. "Goodnight, Napoleon."
Napoleon let it go for the time being. He stepped out into the hallway and gestured toward Illya's door. "Lock it behind you."
Illya just rolled his eyes and shut the door.
Napoleon stood in the hallway. He didn't hear Illya throw the lock. He frowned, then pursed his lips, his eyebrows lifted. That meant he could just go back in. His heart was pounding as he relived the moment that had just happened. He felt a heaviness in his groin, as blood rushed to his penis in accompaniment to the pounding beat of his heart, and the richness of the memory. Never had he imagined sharing a moment of sexual tension with his partner. But he just had. And it had felt good. Too good.
It made Napoleon nervous. He hadn't quite bargained on this. He wondered if there was a gorgeous secretary in the building he could go ravish. Then he glared at Mike's door. Then, deciding that he really had lost his mind he threw his hands up in disgust and went into his room, closing the door behind him.
*****
The next morning seemed to come very quickly. Both Illya's and Napoleon's communicators went off as soon as the reconnaissance photos started coming in. They were in the command center in minutes, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. Mike arrived a few minutes later with coffee and donuts from the cafeteria.
They spent the next few hours poring over photos, looking for suspicious sites, trying to match them up with delivery addresses attached to any sizeable orders of the identified pieces from their locust robot. Napoleon noticed, with a rising sense of ire, that Mike seemed to have appointed himself Illya's lackey, bringing him a steady supply of coffee, and whatever else Illya needed.
Napoleon was munching on another donut, staring at two photos, muttering under his breath that he was surprised Mike wasn't hand feeding Illya a donut, when it clicked. He let out a yell. "Illya?"
Illya moved to his side. "You found something?"
Napoleon nodded. "Look." He pointed at the first picture. "This one was taken just last year in Iowa. This one, this morning." He tapped his finger against a sizeable new structure. "It's on privately owned property, owned by a dummy corporation that I think THRUSH has used before." He pulled over an aide. "Check and see if this company is on our books as THRUSH." The aide nodded and hurried off.
The cartographer assigned to help them was already pulling out a map of Iowa, and began trying to match up the site of the building with a city. It took him a minute but he found it. "It must be here. See, how these two roads connect right here?"
Illya moved back to his area and fished through his papers until he found what he was looking for. "A lot of the deliveries were made to Iowa." He glanced at the cartographer. "Can we find out what the address is of this building?"
The man took out a piece of paper and started making some notations. "I'll get right on it."
The aide returned and spoke to Napoleon. "It's a THRUSH company, all right."
Napoleon tapped the picture hanging on the wall. "I'm guessing that's one of our targets. All we need to do now is figure out if that's the only one, or if there are more."
By late morning they had a matching address between the new factory, and several large deliveries of the suspect items. By early afternoon they hadn't determined another location. Napoleon frowned. "Could we be that lucky? Could they really only have the one factory?"
Illya shrugged. "If they can program those locusts to go where they want, they only need the one factory."
"It feels too easy."
"Napoleon, the only reason it's been easy is because they accidentally left that robot behind."
"Do you think they did that on purpose?"
Illya snorted. "You saw what I had to do to get that drawer open. There's no way they could have retrieved that box in the time it took us to get to the lab."
Napoleon weighed all the facts. Then he nodded. "Okay, then." He grinned at Illya. "Fancy a trip to Iowa?"
"My life will now be complete." Illya had the photo of the factory, the available specs for the building in the other. He was studying them both.
Mike chose that moment to walk up. Napoleon put his index finger over his lips. "Shhh. Dr. Strangelove is hard at work."
Illya flashed Napoleon a dirty look. "Have you figured out how we're going to do this yet?"
"Worry not, my little Russian spy."
Mike was looking at them both, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What happens now?"
Napoleon gestured at Illya. "Illya goes to his kitchen and brews up an explosive gift for our friends."
"Why does Illya do that?"
"He's the bomb expert."
Mike looked at Illya. "I thought your degree was in quantum mechanics."
Illya nodded. "It is. Can't make a good bomb if you don't know how atoms work."
"But why do you have to do it?"
"Because I'm good at it."
Mike looked at Napoleon. "What are you going to do?"
"I get us in and out. That's what I'm good at."
"He handles explosives and you open doors?" Mike sounded horrified at the inequity.
Illya helped out. "He's very good at opening doors. It's a gift."
Napoleon glared at Illya. "Ha ha." He pointed at himself. "I make the plan. I figure out the layout, and the guards, and come up with a way to get inside. Then I make sure we get back out."
One corner of Illya's mouth rose in a mocking grin. "And then I figure out a way to rescue us when his plan fails."
Napoleon was determined to get in the last word. "And then I always have a back-up plan to rescue Illya, who inevitably lets himself get captured."
"Only when I'm trying to rescue you."
"No, you manage to get captured all on your own most of the time." He grinned. "It's a gift."
Mike was scowling. "I don't like this conversation. How worried should I be, and what do I do?"
Illya shook his head. "You won't be going, Mike. It's too dangerous. It will just be me and Napoleon."
"But suppose you find something different? Suppose there really are bugs there and you need some information?"
Illya put his hand on Mike's arm. "Then we'll call you."
"What if something bad happens to you?"
Napoleon noticed that Mike's concern didn't seem to include him. Granted, Mike had been there during the last mission when it looked as if Illya had been killed. Napoleon supposed he had the right to ask a few worried questions.
Illya's hand was still on Mike's arm. "That's why I have Napoleon."
"What if he's not enough?"
Illya glanced up at Napoleon. "He will be. Napoleon might be a pain in the ass a good deal of the time but I trust him to watch my back."
Napoleon felt a surge of pride at the words, insult aside. He barely restrained himself from sticking his tongue out at Mike in some juvenile gesture of one-upmanship. Barely. He was ready for Illya to take his hand off of Mike's arm. "Go play in your kitchen, Illya. I need to know where you intend to plant that bomb, and how the sky is gonna fall."
Illya nodded, gave Mike's arm a last squeeze and dropped his arm. "I should know in an hour." He headed off to the lab.
Mike made as if to follow him. Napoleon grabbed his arm. "He'll work faster if he's not disturbed."
Mike conceded the point and stopped moving. "What should I do?"
"Seeing as you might be here at least another day or so, shall I have an agent see you home to pick up a few things?" At Mike's nod, he called someone over and made the arrangements. Then, Mike out of his hair, and away from Illya, he sat down with his own information and started making plans.