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

Chapter 8

Waverly sat at the empty café with a pipe of hookah in his hand. It didn't have the poignancy he was used to, but he enjoyed the novelty of it, the luminous blue stand, set up like an oasis fountain. He drew a breath into the pipe and released a puff of smoke that dispersed like a ink in water. He looked at the shimmering Bosphorous, and the stone fort on the other side. He looked up to humble himself with the sight of Rumeli fortress, its high walls that were once lined with cannons, the watch tower like a vat of brick and stone. He looked at his watch. They were thirty minutes late.

He inhaled into his pipe again. Technically, he was sober, but he thought that a little huff once in a while would be wouldn't hurt. Managing a rag tag team of a half-reformed American art thief, a Russian thug and an East German mechanic, on the other hand might prove to cause more health problems than this hookah ever could. In fact, he was probably going to need it. He knew he needed it when he saw Gaby and Napoleon walk towards him, their clothes soaking wet, leaving a trail of water behind them. Gaby was shivering so Waverly placed his jacket over her shoulders. They took their seats; Napoleon subsequently ordered a glass of scotch from a befuddled waiter.

Waverly began, "I'm not going to bother asking why."

"Good," Napoleon replied, "That we can agree on."

"Where the devil is Kuryakin?"

"He's injured."

"I see. I should have expected it considering the state you two arrived in."

"Actually, he sustained damage through other means. Our driver on the other hand, we dropped him off at the nearest hospital."

"Shame on the taxi, though," Gaby noted, "It could have benefitted from some tweaks here and there. Or I could have tinkered with it, get some spare parts." Before Gaby could go off on a tangent, Waverly interrupted.

"So, what progress has been made?"

"Mossad's objective has changed: you see, until the ambassador arrives, we're the targets. They were waiting for us. Now, the last time I checked this mission was highly classified. But considering someone of your expertise, I doubt that any leak would be unintentional."

Gaby looked at Napoleon in disbelief, "You can't be suggesting that-"

"What are you playing at, Waverly?" The Englishman promptly signaled for the bill. He looked at the two agents indifferently and continued as if nothing had happened.

"One more thing, you were advised to stay away from that woman-"

"Peril couldn't do it."

"It's best not to get tangled in your past. So, in regards to progress, the ambassador is going to arrive tomorrow night, and there's a high probability that he will be murdered."

"And with that a high probability of war."

"Oh yes, we mustn't forget that."

"We can handle this."

"I know," said Waverly. The waiter came over with the bill on a small metal tray. The Englishman took a moment to check over it before he pulled out his wallet to drop a couple of lira on the tray.

"Do you have the files I asked for?"

"Due to their confidential nature, we had to leave them in a potentially problematic location," Waverly looked over to the Bosphurous. Napoleon nearly choked on his wine.

He managed to sputter the words, "Don't tell me-"

"Don't worry, they're waterproof," Waverly smiled and walked away. They watched him get into a car and drive away. Napoleon reluctantly tugged off his soggy tie, and slipped out of his soaking jacket. Gaby noticed his white shirt had become translucent from the water. Gaby looked away, but from the corner of her eye she noticed his hand unbuttoning his shirt, slowly making it's way down to the bottom of his shirt. She quickly grabbed his hand to make him stop, a tourist group leaving the fortress stared at them, a bunch of young ladies snickered, while a mother and father covered their child's eyes, an elderly man mumbled something about the profanity of youth.

"Can you at least do this in private?"

"I would love to give you a private show, but Peril would kill me." He pushed Gaby's hand aside and slid out of his shirt. "Will you please let me get back to the business of retrieving the files?"

"It's freezing down there! You're not going to survive with just your underwear."

"Who said I'm going in my underwear?" Gaby buried her face in her hand.

"I hope you know what you're doing."

"Hold onto this," said Napoleon as he threw out his Browning Hi-Power from his pocket. It jumped out off Gaby's hands, hopping across her slipping fingers before settling on her palms. "You can't just keep throwing guns at me!"

"You'll need it more than I will. If you see anyone who looks suspicious, don't think, just shoot. It doesn't matter if you miss. That way I know if something's happened to you and I'll surface." Gaby nodded hesitantly. She bit her lip as she cocked the gun. Gaby followed Napoleon down to the pier, where he took off his pants. Gaby noticed a bag lying at the side of the pier and unzipped it. There was an air tank fitted with shoulder straps, a tube connected to a mouthpiece, an air gauge, scuba goggles, fins, a shirt and shorts. Before Napoleon could jump in, Gaby called him. She passed the clothes and screwed the end of the tube to the air tank before heaving it up so that Napoleon could slip his arms through the straps. Napoleon checked his air gauge, the arrow pointed comfortably in green zone. Once he was all set, Napoleon slipped on his goggles, stood at the edge of the pier whilst holding onto his nose. He closed his eyes and took a big stride off the pier. He fell in with a splash. Once fully submerged, he opened his eyes. The water glowed turquoise, wavering rays of light pieced through the shifty, featureless environment. His body bobbed up and down with the current. He looked down and saw jellyfish illuminate the murky depths with their soft pink light, floating and pulsating with the fluidity of the water. Unfazed, he swam forwards, hearing nothing but the sound of his dry breath and bubbles he made as he exhaled.

It took a while before he discerned a floating plastic container that was anchored to the bottom, beyond the cloud of jellyfish. Just as he was about to propel himself towards it, he heard a hum reverberate across the water. Napoleon heard it get louder and louder, until it drowned out the sound of his breathing. He felt an invisible force pull his legs away. A shadow loomed over him, blocking the light coming in from above. He looked up, and saw a massive propeller, spinning ferociously in a fury of bubbles. Without thinking his duck dived deeper, trying to resist its hold on him. He stopped as soon as his face came within an inch from the tops of jellyfish, a sharp pain bursting in his ears. Soon, he was floating back up, flying closer and closer to the sharp propeller blades. He switched direction and with all his might swam towards the container. He grabbed on and wrapped himself around the rope. The rope swayed towards the propeller. He held his breath for a second as he watched the boat passed by.

Napoleon sighed, releasing all the tension in a torrent of bubbles. Hurriedly, he began to untie the container from the rope. It started to float away. Napoleon tried to grab it, but with each swing of his arms it slipped further from his grasp. A beep of a sonar pieced through the water. Napoleon froze. It pulsated, picking up speed with every second. Napoleon swivelled his body around, searching for its source. He looked down and saw the cloud of jellyfish soar, parting like the Red Sea. A great black submarine rose from the depths zooming straight towards him. He swam away following the escaped plastic container. He kicked vigorously, stretching his arm out further, his heart pounding in his ears. Even the air he breathed felt thin. He glanced at his air gauge, the arrow hovering dangerously in the red zone. He took a deep breath and the gauge went to zero. He grabbed for the package one last time. He had caught it. Hopelessly, he looked up to the light, which glistened like a supernova, far away in both space and time. His body betrayed him, his desperation for air made him swallow salt water instead. Napoleon closed his eyes. He was sucked back into the void leaving the submarine to consume him like a whale.