Bodie raised a well-shaped brow as Solo pulled the door closed behind him, as he wondered what was going on.

“What’s that all about?” Bodie asked, with obviously far less tact than he should have been born with.

“I have no idea,” Solo answered honestly.

Perplexed, Napoleon headed towards the makeshift office Cowley had appointed him.

~~~oooOOOooo~~~

“I apologize for the need to discuss this with you Mr. Cowley, but I believe it will be of significant importance in this affair.”

Cowley sat back in his chair and eyed the young man, aware, not for the first time the wealth of emotion that passed behind the clear blue eyes. “Aye, well?”

“During the affair where Napoleon shot Langford there were certain situations that occurred that my partner was not, still is not aware of.”

“Such as?” intrigued now Cowley relaxed into the conversation and listened intently.

“The case files left out a couple of things.”

“Such as?” Cowley chewed on the end of his glasses as he scrutinized the young man before him.

“Mr. Cowley, what I am about to tell you remains between us. Mr. Waverly knows already of course but certain other people do not know.”

“Such as your partner?”

Illya looked down at his hands and took a steadying breath. “Yes.”

“Go on lad,” Cowley urged.

“Christian Langford is a mission code name used by KGB operatives who have been sent on active assignment. It means, ‘one way in, one way out’.”

“Aye, a death mission. I’ve not heard that term before, though.”

“Mr. Waverly uncovered the term almost three years ago, it is not widely known.”

“You however recognized it,” Cowley added.

“Yes. It was hard not to, it was the same mission code the KGB gave me when I joined UNCLE.”

Cowley’s head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes.

“You seem surprised? I have been a KGB agent from the very beginning, Mr. Waverly is aware of this and it on a number of occasions has suited his purpose.”

“And now?”

“Now, we have a problem.” Illya opened the folder in front of him. “At each of the murder sites Langford left a message. The code he is using is a new one, but I have the UNCLE cryptography department working on it. I believe that he is not acting as a rogue agent at all. I believe that he is an agent on active assignment.”

“Och laddie, a rogue KGB agent working in the West. It would certainly change the situation. But to what end. The last time I looked I was unaware of the KGB killing innocents vicariously.”

“Then with all due respect sir, you haven’t looked in a long time. The KGB is the master of torture and the targets further bear out my theory.”

“All single homosexual men,” Cowley added thoughtfully.

“Yes. Given the moral tenant within the KGB, it would seem unlikely that Langford would kill women and children. The community would be up in arms no doubt with such murders, but there is a marked difference with an outspoken community who on the whole already has an axe to grind against the system.”

“A social statement as well as moral. Aye laddie, but not so long ago you and your partner were convinced he was working for THRUSH.”

“Yes sir, he is.”

“Explain.” Cowley’s tone was gruff and commanding.

“Sir, when I was sent on the same kind of mission, it was with the application that I would report on a regular basis to my KGB masters as to the workings of UNCLE. The KGB is parochial sir, they are only interested in how UNCLE or for that matter THRUSH may wish to make headway into the Soviet Union.”

“The rest of the world be damned?”

“Something like that. I think that THRUSH has managed to infiltrate some areas of the Soviet State and this is the KGB’s long term plan to totally discredit their organization.”

Cowley put his glasses down. “Ah, as you were meant to discredit UNCLE?”

Illya stared into the old man’s eyes and nodded once without emotion. “Yes sir, it was.”

“I have known Alexander for a long time, laddie. He would have no more truck with a traitor in his organization than I have in mine.”

“Yes sir, I know. To clarify matters, when I was first assigned to UNCLE, it was true my Soviet masters had a hidden agenda. After a few months and several missions an agreement was reached, I was allowed to work with impunity. The details of these missions, sir, remain classified and I cannot discuss them with you, however, they were significant enough to cause a lasting impression. Since then I have become a British citizen.”

“But you still hold a Russian passport?”

“Yes sir I do. It is confusing but my situation has been resolved and the KGB cannot recall me. Since Langford is using a coded message he hopes will be displayed in the newspapers it is rather apparent he is still contacting his master and working for THRUSH as well.”

“How long before you get the code cracked?”

“A couple of hours sir, since the original code is still intact it is only a matter of time.”

“Yet somehow you believe he is after you and Solo as well?”

“Yes sir, I do. Napoleon hurt him and he is very angry. He cost him a lot of money and he wounded his professional pride. Therefore, Napoleon must be hurt.”

Cowley was silent as he regarded the man before him, he knew it had taken a lot to reveal his own past to a stranger and he felt oddly pleased that he had, yet still something else compelled him. Some tiny piece of information that Illya Kuryakin was not telling him.

“I’ve dealt with a number of different agencies during my tenure as Chief of CI5 and prior in the army, what you say holds a certain amount of credibility yet there is something else that you are not telling me.”

Illya’s head snapped up. “Such as?” His voice was as cold and expressionless as the Arctic tundra.

Cowley saw the frission of tension that rippled across the lithe body as he stared into hard, cold eyes. “You know who it is don’t you Mr. Kuryakin.”

Illya smiled suddenly and sat back. “I don’t know who sir, but I strongly suspect I know who trained him.”

“And that would be?”

“The same man who trained me,” Illya said softly.

“How difficult would it be for you to be sure?”

“There is only a small part of the puzzle missing sir, cryptography will fill in the missing piece, but if I am right, he will kill again, and he will have a high profile target in his sights. The person he will aim for will be a much-loved international personality, one whose death would totally turn the general population against THRUSH. In the meantime his revenge against Napoleon will give us a certain amount of leverage.”

“Assuming he will go after your Mr. Solo.”

“He will sir, he doesn’t have a choice.”

“Because the real target in the revenge is you?”

“So I suspect sir.”

“Because?”

“New regime in the KGB. Old secrets perhaps. I am not certain. But yes this is personal; there was a word in the message on the wall of the first murder Mr. Cowley. In the coded message he refers to Knyaz lyot .”

“You have me at a disadvantage I don’t speak enough Russian to decipher it.”

“Loosely translated it means Ice Prince.”

“I see.” Cowley said, Illya wondered if he really did and continued.

“Yes, at first I thought I was being overly paranoid, but he did carve my date of birth on the wall in blood.”

Cowley shook his head, not at once seeing the connection.

“Knyaz lyot was my code name in the KGB, Mr. Cowley.”

Cowley barely had time to register the implication of the young Russian’s words when the phone on his desk began to ring.

“Cowley,” he answered gruffly.

Illya waited a few moments as the conversation, mostly one-sided, informed a grim faced man of a distasteful event.

“Murphy?” Illya asked as he almost read the controller’s mind.

“No. Jax has been located and is in a serious but stable condition in hospital. One of the boys was found this morning.”

“Which one?”

“English boy, Adam Cooper.”

“Where was the body found sir?”

“Body? Och laddie, no body. The boy is alive and kicking. Being held by the local constabulary.” Cowley opened the intercom and gave the information to Bodie and Doyle, dispatching them with an imperious command, before he turned grave eyes on the young Russian.

“Illya, it is none of my business, but I would think that this information would be best passed onto your partner. Given the situation and circumstances, Solo will need to find out.”

“Sir,” Illya tensed.

“I am not blind, lad. I don’t proclaim to understand it, but since two of my own operatives have a relationship, I am not in the position to throw accusations. However if you and Solo are involved, then I suggest that you deal with him fairly.”

“Yes sir.” Illya stood.

“Unless the need arises, I will say nothing of this to your partner.”

“Sir.”

Illya closed the door behind him, the insipid antiseptic green colour of the old plaster walls made him faintly nauseous. He leaned back against the peeling plaster for a second and closed his eyes.

“Productive?” a voice as smooth as decade old scotch spoke next to him. Even without looking at his partner’s face, the cool, professional tone spoke volumes. Illya unconsciously winced at the hurt he knew was there.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes to see confusion and concern written over Napoleon’s features.

“Pasha, we need to talk,” he said finally.

“Yes.” Solo nodded and took a step back, “I think perhaps we do.”