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

Chapter 9 - Into the Deep

Illya stared out at the docks, the hundreds of boats and ships bobbing peacefully in the water. The darkness obscured whatever may have been happening out among the jetties and it was all he could do to keep himself from bolting out into the open to look for her. His hand tapped a nervous dance against his thigh as Napoleon scouted the surrounding area

"Okay, Peril, we can move in. Slowly." Napoleon's confident voice came from behind him, making him jump ever so slightly.

"Let's go then." Illya hissed.

"There's a truck parked not far from here, they must have used it to transport the women," Solo whispered as they crept down toward the docks. "The only question is, which boat is it?"

"We don't have time to search them all." Illya's nails dug into his sweating palms. He couldn't lose Gaby to these men, he'd die before he let that happen.

Napoleon could see it in his eyes. "Don't do anything... stupid."

"Same for you, cowboy." Illya's eyes searched the decks of the boats, looking for any sign of the men, of Gaby. But there was nothing, only the lights lining the jetties, illuminating the dozens of swaying wooden bows. He reached out to Napoleon, gripping his shoulder.

"What is it?" Napoleon looked up at Illya's stone face, seeing the determination in his eyes.

"There."

"Where?"

"This jetty, is dark, the lights are out." He nodded to the jetty in question, which was indeed completely black, unlike the rest of the dimly lit wood-planked walkways. The only light in the general area was coming from a fairly large ship, which was docked at the very end.

"That must be it."

The two of them ran, half-crouching, toward the distant lights of the ship. Their boots thumped hollowly against the wood as they were swallowed by the darkness of the dock, which seemed to had all power cut, most likely so the kidnapped women could be transferred without being discovered.

They were halfway to the ship when a flicker of light shuddered across the dock. They froze in unison as every last one of the lights jittered back on, flooding the dock with light and exposing them. The second the light hit them, they rolled to the side, hanging off of the dock, half in the water, hoping they hadn't been seen.

"Well, this is just fantastic." Napoleon sighed dryly as Illya began inching toward the boat.

"We must move fast, or they will go before we reach ship." Illya snapped, pulling himself along the dock with aching fingers.

The progress was slow, and they almost made it to the ship in time. When the engines rumbled to life, Illya was only ten yards away. Bubbles rose where the engine propellers churned up the water, and a loud thunk came from above as one of the crew pulled back the steps. The ship began to back away from the dock and Illya began to pull himself up onto the platform, prepared to run after the vessel and hurl himself aboard, but Napoleon was there, dragging him back down.

"No!" Illya snarled, trying to push him off.

"You're no good to her if you're dead," Napoleon said bluntly.

Illya struggled against Napoleon's grip. "They escape, she's as good as dead."