Excerpt from To Revive A Spy - TRAS III
Written by Marie-Louise Yately
Rating PG13


Wilde was deeply involved in coordinating logistics for ongoing Section II operations when his outer office door swooshed open.

"You wanted to see me?" Kuryakin said without preamble.

Wilde leaned back in his chair and leisurely appraised the Russian from head to toe, sneering inwardly. This Kuryakin called himself a field agent. Wilde still found it nearly unbelievable that Waverly could have partnered someone like Kuryakin with Napoleon Solo. Unseen beneath the table, Wilde's hand curled into a fist as pain shot like a hot knife through his damaged leg and knee.

"Take a seat, Agent Kuryakin," he ordered, not allowing his face to betray the pleasure he felt at what was about to occur.

Kuryakin remained standing. Wilde wondered if he intended to stay on his feet in an effort to assert himself. The Russian was both short and slight, barely meeting the minimum agent standards for height and weight. Wilde had always enjoyed using his height to intimidate.

Finally, as though he had nothing better to do, Kuryakin hooked a chair leg with a toe and sat. The easy grace of his movement was like a slap in the face to the other man. Wilde rubbed his aching knee and focused his mind on the matter at hand. He closed the file he'd been reading and put it away. He placed his hands on either side of the Operations manual before him on the desk. Even seated, Wilde was still able to look slightly down at the Russian.

"You have recently spent time as a...guest...of Thrush."

Kuryakin shrugged. "I filed my report some time ago."

"Indeed." Wilde allowed an expression of concern to cross his face. The Russian would likely misconstrue it for sympathy. "You recently spent a considerable amount of time at the mercies of certain elements of Thrush."

Kuryakin shrugged. "A few days."

"It was ten days, Agent Kuryakin," Wilde corrected sternly. "To be precise, ten days and nine and one-half hours."

"You're mistaken," Kuryakin replied calmly.

"Must I remind you, Agent Kuryakin, that you were abducted twice in the last five months? Perhaps the drugs that were used on you have caused some..." Wilde twirled his finger in small, tight circles at the side of his head, "Memory loss?" Wilde waited, watching eagerly for Kuryakin to react. If he hoped to see some sign, a reflexive tightening of the jaw, a flush of color into the face, perhaps, he was disappointed.

The Russian glanced up at Wilde through the ridiculously long blond fringe of his bangs, as small and innocent-seeming as a boy. "Ten days and nine and one-half hours, then," he shrugged again.

"And do you realize what this means, Agent Kuryakin?" Wilde prodded, with just a hint of smugness.

"Certainly," Kuryakin replied. "It means that I have ten days and nine and one-half hours' worth of work to catch up on, so if you will excuse me..." He made to rise from his chair.

"Sit down, Agent Kuryakin," Wilde barked. "You'll have plenty of time to catch up on your paperwork," he declaimed with satisfaction.

"Why is that?" Kuryakin asked, suddenly suspicious. He and Wilde shared a history of antagonism. He settled back in his seat, retreating behind a mask of impassivity.

"I have removed you from active field duty for the time being," Wilde declared smugly.

"You've what?" Kuryakin demanded, half rising from his seat.

Ah, that's gotten your attention, hasn't it? Wilde reached out to lift the heavy book on his desk. "I assume you are familiar with the U.N.C.L.E .Field Operations and Agent Assessment Manual?" he asked with a pompous sneer. His tone implied that he certainly didn't expect Kuryakin to have ever seen the book before, much less actually read it.

"I believe you'll find the relevant sections in Chapter Two. Might I suggest that you refresh your memory between your sessions with Dr. Isaacs?"

"Dr. Isaacs?" Kuryakin repeated. "Why would I be having sessions with Dr. Isaacs?"

"By your own reports, Agent Kuryakin, you have spent two hundred forty-nine and one-half hours being drugged, tortured, and, if I understand the reports correctly, actually killed while in Thrush custody. It is unreasonable to assume that your state of mind remains unaffected, yet I can find no report of psychiatric evaluation. I have therefore quite correctly removed your field certification and scheduled you for immediate sessions with Dr. Isaacs."

"You have no authority to do such a thing," Kuryakin countered coldly. There was a certain stubborn look to his body language that pleased Wilde greatly. Kuryakin was on the defensive, and as good as admitted that he, Wilde, now held the upper hand.

"On the contrary, as Chief of Operations I do have such authority," Wilde assured him. "Since your direct superior, Chief Agent Solo, has overlooked that small detail, I have made it my own responsibility to rectify matters. I simply wished to apprise you in person, of your current status."

"Are you implying that Mr. Solo is incompetent?" Kuryakin bristled.

My, how like a banty rooster, Wilde thought patronizingly. His little Russian feathers have been ruffled.

"I am quite sure that Chief Agent Solo is competent," Wilde stated, "but he does have a tendency to let small details slide now and then. Details, on the other hand, are my job. I assure you, Agent Kuryakin, I am very, very good at my job. I take great pride in the fact that no detail, however small, that might possibly affect a Section Two operation, is beneath my notice. And you, sir, are such a detail."

"Sheer rubbish," Kuryakin scoffed. "There is nothing the least bit questionable about my state of mind. I don't have time for your petty bureaucratic nonsense."

"You have nothing but time, Agent Kuryakin," Wilde smirked. "Until such time as Dr. Isaacs deems you competent, and his findings have been verified, cross-referenced, and filed with this office, you are restricted to non-field operations and confined to headquarters during duty hours."

Kuryakin did not wait to be dismissed, he was out of the chair and gone. Wilde nodded to himself as he placed the book back into the stand on the edge of his desk. He'd definitely put the upstart Russian in his place. It was a pity that Napoleon Solo continued to accept him as his partner. Solo deserved so much better.

© 2007 Marie-Louise Yately

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Available through Twisted Tsisters Productions.

This is the third installment of the TRAS series. The first two stories, TRAS1 - to Rent a Spy and TRAS2 - to Retrieve a Spy are also available from Twisted Tsister.