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

Chapter 7 - The Warehouse

Start writing your story

"This is scratchy." Illya prodded the mustache as they walked through the doors of the hotel, out onto the street.

"You can survive Russia but not a false mustache?" Napoleon grinned.

They walked in along the streets in silence, heads down as the sun sank lower on the horizon, casting shadows across the buildings.

Illya grimaced. "We are almost to the warehouse."

"That we are." The American looked up at the building, only a block away now, hulking huge and ominous among the other buildings.

"There are no lights." Illya's hands curled into fists.

"Perhaps they have the windows boarded up. Surely they wouldn't want anyone looking in."

"Something is wrong."

"Can we at least look at the place before jumping to conclusions?"

Illya gave one sharp nod and began walking even faster than he had been before, forcing Napoleon to jog a bit to keep up. The Russian didn't even notice the irritated eye-roll Napoleon threw his direction, absolutely focused on the black windows of the warehouse.

As they came to the corner of the building, Napoleon rattled the metal of the fence that surrounded the entire block. "Got your CO2 laser this time?"

"Nyet." Illya reached up, grabbed the top of the fence, and pulled himself over to the overside in one smooth motion. "Waiting for you, cowboy."

Solo gritted his teeth. Without Illya's extra inches of height, he was forced to climb the fence, rather than vaulting over it. Illya watched in amusement, all the while keeping an eye on the surrounding area, on the lookout for anyone who may raise the alarm. Not a single sound of movement came from anywhere in or around the warehouse, which sent a flood of doubt through his mind.

Napoleon landed beside him, straightening his jacket and leading the way forward. The crept along the edge of the building until they stood directly below one of the wide, cracked windows, just high enough that neither of them could see through. Illya lept up, catching the sill with his long fingers and hauling his body up, every part of him filled with the hope that he would see Gaby's sweet face. Instead, he saw empty chairs scattered across the concrete floor. Not a single person in sight, not even a guard.

He dropped back to the ground, the dark expression on his face telling Napoleon everything he needed to know. "They've moved on, haven't they. They must have just left. They can't have gotten too far, there wasn't enough time."

"The port is near here, Solo." Illya's voice was even deeper than usual, his accent made stronger by the anger and worry. "If we don't reach them before they set sail, we won't find her."

...

Sorry this has taken so long to update! I'll do my best to be more consistent <3