The Man From U.N.C.L.E: A Mission In Istanbul

Chapter 7: A Plan Is Made

Solo walked down the tired wooden steps to the living room. His royal blue nightgown hung lazily around his broad shoulders as he realized he was the last to awake.

"Thanks for waiting." He sits on a couch and grabs a piece of bread and jam. "Peril?"

Illya played with the gun trigger on his small pistol. He looked up at Solo and Simona. "Last night, I woke up. Gaby wasn't in bed anymore."

Simona looked up at Illya, a concerned expression on her face. "Gaby? Well, where is she?"

Illya smashed the pistol down on the table and stood so he could tower over Simona. "If I knew, don't you think I would've already gone to get her?" He sat back down, visibly upset. He resumed to playing with his pistol. "We have to find her, but where do we start?

"Maybe looking behind you would be a good start."

Solo dropped the bread and jam, and his jaw opened wide. Gaby was leaning against the doorframe, the morning light dancing around her eyes, which seemed to be beaming with information. She was dying to tell them about what she heard in the bar. Illya stood up from the couch as if he'd seen a ghost. He walked up to Gaby, a little too quickly, and took her hand.

Gaby looked at Illya's hands and then back at him. "You're shaking."

"I was scared..." Illya started before his mood changed to being serious again. "But not anymore." He wrenched his hands out of Gaby's grasp and turned his back on her. "Where the hell have you been?" He yelled, shuffling around the room, his hands quivered as he tried to control his anger.

Gaby glared at him. "I've been finding out information. It's our mission."

"I know it's the mission," Illya stopped and glared back at her, "but you should have told someone. Maybe me. We need to make sure you're safe."

"Why do you care?" Gaby yelled back at him.

Illya walked up to her and looked down on her. "Maybe because you're my fiancée."

Gaby shook her head at him, pushing him away. "Stop with that. I'm not your fiancée. You're nothing but a KGB spy with a bad temper." Gaby was about to race up the stairs, away from Illya's stare, when Simona stopped her.

"Guys," Simona guided Gaby to the couch so she could sit down, "come on. Damn, you're all so angry and bitter." She turned to Illya. "You should be thanking her. She found some new information."

"Yes, but she..."

"She's an undercover agent, not a toddler, Mr Kuryakina." Simona rolled her eyes at him, lecturing him as if he was a toddler. "Gaby, tell us everything."

"Kuryakin." Illya stubbornly corrected Simona before Gaby could speak.

Gaby poured herself a cup of coffee and tucked her knees under her chin as she took a sip. She felt everyone's eyes on her. She felt Illya's eyes on her, and was all of a sudden embarrassed to start talking. "I was out last night." She mumbled. "Undercover, obviously." She turned her attention on Solo, who was happily munching on a piece of toast. "You said that some people had seen the rebels out in the town, and I recognized them immediately when I entered this crowded bar." She put down the mug of coffee and hugged her legs. "I made sure to sit at a table next to them. They said that their boss was holding a meeting today in a hotel called Otel Eleanora. I went there, and it was just some touristic, fancy hotel, but people were lurking around it. That's where the rebels are hiding." She paused, to think of something else. "And they know we're here. I don't know how, but they talked about spies being in Istanbul and that they're going to be careful, so I guess we should be careful too from now on."

Solo put down his plate, now empty of the bread and jam, and stood up. "I think we should all go down to this Otel Eleanora ourselves."

"There's a ball tonight," Simona said. They all turned to look at her, realizing she had already whipped out her computer and searched up the hotel and found out the information. "If I was a Nazi rebel group, I would hold my meeting during a busy hotel ball so I could blend as well as possible."

Illya grunted. "We'll go then."

"Not all of us." Gaby interrupted. "If they know we're here, they probably know there's four of us. Two of us should attend the ball, and two of us should be outside, just in case things get... out of hand."

Solo nods in agreement and looks over Simona's shoulder at the details about the hotel. "Simona and me will attend the ball. You and Illya will wait outside in the car. We'll get a tracking and speaker devise on us so you can hear everything from inside the car."

"Good idea," Illya started to make his way upstairs.

Solo was going to join him, when he looked back at Simona. "Oh, and Simona?"

She looked at him, expecting something unintelligent to come out of his mouth. "Yes, Mr Solo."

"Try to wear something," Solo looked at her up and down as he paused, "flattering."

Simona laughed sarcastically at him. She shut her computer and was about to retort something back at him, but he had already made his way up the stairs. She realized Gaby was still lingering on the couch, still hugging her knees and resting her chin on them. "Hey, Gaby..."

"He was right," Gaby nodded, "I should have told him."

Simona smiled and raised her eyebrow knowingly at her. "No, you're not a kid, babe. You're an undercover agent. It's what you do." Simona took Gaby's hand and helped her up from the couch. "Now you need to help me get ready for my ball."

"Shame there's no prince charming," Gaby sighed.

Simona laughed, holding her hand. "Tell me about it."