Illya and Gaby - The Frenchman (The Man From U.N.C.L.E)

Chapter 5 - Burn The City

As they drew closer to the hotel, Illya noticed the bucket of flowers spilled on the sidewalk, water running into the street. The old woman who had been holding them was nowhere to be seen.

"Gaby." He grunted under his breath, quickly outpacing Solo as he raced into the hotel and up the stairs.

Illya burst into the room, his heart simultaneously racing and sinking as he took in the disaster. The overturned coffee table, the cracked lamp lying on the floor where it had been knocked from the end table, and the broken vodka bottle, which had shattered against the wall where Gaby had surely thrown it.

"Gaby!" He shouted fearfully, running to the bedroom, bursting into the bathroom where the sink faucet was still running. He turned it off, leaning against the counter, fingernails scraping against the surface. He felt absolute panic, not a common emotion for him. He lifted a hand, staring at his shaking fingers. Gritting his teeth, he balled his hand up into a fist and slammed it into the mirror. The glass splintered, slicing into his knuckles.

"Kuryakin?" Solo called from the living room. "Is she here?"

Illya stalked into the living room at a half-run, breathing heavily, blood dripping from his hand. Solo took a step back as he noticed the rage simmering behind Illya's eyes.

"She. Is. Gone." Illya snarled. "Я найду, кто взял ее и убить их. Медленно и мучительно."

"Find them and kill them slowly and painfully." Solo nodded. "Understood. However, might I suggest remembering to breathe before we hunt down human traffickers?"

"She is my breath. I breathe when we find her." Illya's fingers shook against the material of his trousers as he barely held himself back from hurling the armchair through a window.

"Well then, we'd better get to it." Solo declared gravely. "Pack your things, I barely had time to check in, so I doubt The Frenchman knows I have a room here. We're moving our center of operations there."

Illya nodded sharply, stepping into the bedroom, jamming his few unpacked clothes into the suitcase and slamming it shut. He stepped into the bathroom, quickly gathering his and Gaby's things from the counter and sliding them into her bag.

He lifted her dress from the bed, she must have left it there when she went to take her shower. He crumpled the material, bringing it to his face, inhaling her scent. Gently, he folded the dress and laid it in her suitcase, zipping it shut.

While Illya had been packing, Solo had closed the curtains, turned on the living room lamp, and hooked the do not disturb card on the door handle, making it look like someone could be there and keeping the maids out. Illya appeared beside him, the bags bundled awkwardly in his arms.

"Ready?" Solo asked.

"Yes." Illya replied quietly.

"Let's get up to my room then so we can get set up." Solo turned, holding the door open for Illya.

The Russian stepped into the hall, glancing left and right before heading towards the stairwell. Solo slipped in front of him, guiding Illya up two flights of stairs and halfway down the hallway of fifth floor before unlocking the door to his room.

Illya walked in, setting the bags on the floor. "We find her or I burn this city."

"Maybe we should try a few other things first. I'm fairly certain the French government wouldn't take kindly to a Russian spy burning Paris." Solo shook his head. "The KGB probably wouldn't love it either."

Illya glared at Solo. "We should find Pierre and wait for courier, follow him."

"And how would you recommend finding him?"

"You go one way, I go the other, we will find him." Illya insisted.

"You do realize that Pierre is one of the most common names in France, right?" Solo raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"Da. We will find him. We have to."

"What about wherever you were when you got shot?" Solo asked, walking to the bedroom and pulling a map from his bag. "Show me."

"It was here." Illya took the map, spreading it open to point at a spot a few miles away. "Abandoned building on river."

"Could The Frenchman be there?" Solo frowned at the map.

"Even if he was, he won't be now." Illya rolled his shoulder, wincing. "Is possible he was there and moved to new building on river."

"Yes, he would probably need to be close to the water in order to transport the girls quickly." Solo agreed.

"I can't go back. If anyone saw me before, I will be recognized." Illya gritted his teeth in frustration.

Solo looked him up and down, smirking at the seemingly permanent black turtleneck. "I may be able to help with that."

Illya noticed his expression. "No."

Solo chuckled mischievously. "Oh, yes."

Hope you enjoyed it! Don't forget to follow me, add the story to your library, like, and comment. Thank you! Chapter 6 is coming soon. <3