The Man from U.N.C.L.E: Operation Istanbul

Chapter 3

Napoleon and Gaby managed to get a taxi at Taksim Square. Gaby kept turning her head, searching for any suspicious face, any black cars trailing them from behind.

"You don't need to worry," Napoleon noted, "They aren't following us."

"Did we lose them?"

"They aren't following us because they don't need to," said Napoleon, "they already know we are heading back."

"Then why are we going to one place they are expecting us to go?"

"It's the safest place. You can't do anything too dramatic in a hotel," said Napoleon, "Well, besides blow it up."

"And how do you know that's not going to happen when the ambassador arrives?"

"These assassins want their murder to take place undetected. Why would they go so far to kill agents who fail?"

"I don't know whether I should be terrified or astounded."

"Why? I've saved you from East Berlin, Rome and everywhere between."

"I don't exactly feel safe with someone who can think like a cold blooded assassin."

"As I said before, it comes with the job description."

As they drove down the street, Gaby caught sight of a certain tall man in tweed hat in the distance. He wore a leather jacket and a black turtleneck, slung over his shoulder was a dark grey suitcase. She knew that hulking frame anywhere. "We're stopping here," she told the taxi man. Napoleon raised his brow, perplexed. She pointed outside the front window. Then, Napoleon winded down the side window, and shouted, "Peril! What happened?"

"Cowboy?" he shouted in his own toned down stoic version of surprise. The Russian's mood shifted instantly, "Where is chop shop girl?"

Gaby winded down the other window, "I'm over here! Where are you going?"

"I don't know," he replied. Napoleon handed a wad of Turkish lira to the taxi, and stepped out of the car. Gaby followed suit.

"What happened?"

"I got fired."

"For what?"

"Flirting with the ambassador," said Illya, "Ambassador did not like."

"I didn't think you could pull that off. I thought it was going to be something like intimidation," Napoleon remarked.

Illya shrugged, "That too."

"Shame," Napoleon commented, "Looks like we'll have to sneak you back in,"

Illya put down his suitcase and folded his arms. "And how will we do that?"

Napoleon was quick to come up with a solution. "Congratulations! You are now the Soviet ambassador, Vladimir Radanovich."

"But we don't send ambassadors to Turkey."

"You'll just be a surprise guest to the president's gala," said Napoleon, "It's time to get you a new suit."

Gaby wasn't in the mood for shopping, especially in regards to men's clothing. "I think I'll head back to the hotel. I'll leave you two to your bonding time." She wasn't sure whether she was going to regret that decision. She remained fully aware that out of her sight, those two might as well start brawling or picking fights. Illya placed his hand on her shoulder, as his grip on her tightened; Gaby saw a soft, vulnerable look in his eyes. Gaby slipped her hand over his and turned to face him. "I'll be fine," she insisted. Illya reluctantly let go. He watched her walk away and disappear down the street.