"Have you seen this?" Illya Kuryakin asked his partner, as he dropped a newspaper in front of him.

Napoleon picked it up and immediately saw the advertisement which had caught Illya's attention.

"That's a little bit overt, isn't it?" he said, with incredulity. "I wonder if the Old Man has seen it."

The telephone on Napoleon's desk rang.

"Solo . . . We'll be right there."

"Am I to assume we've been summoned to Mr Waverly's office?"

"Correct, Partner Mine," Napoleon confirmed. "I would imagine it's safe to say he has seen this."

Arriving at the office, the agents were faced with a larger version on the advertisement, which was being projected onto the screen. The extremely familiar, and ugly, THRUSH logo was to the top, and below were the words:-

No. 549, DROP OFF AT THE CORNER OF E 70TH & 9TH, 14:35 PM

"Gentlemen, this is either a very obvious trap for us, or an exceptionally stupid THRUSH agent."

"It doesn't make sense either way," Illya pointed out.

"I suggest you observe this drop," Waverly told them. "If possible, retrieve the package. Take some agents as back-up in case it is a trap."

…..

Solo and Kuryakin sat in their car a little way down the street from the apparent drop off point. Walking up and down the streets, blending with the crowd, six other agents were on alert. At two thirty-five precisely, a nervous looking man approached a trash can, carrying a small box. He glanced around several times before placing the box in the can. He then walked away as briskly as possible.

"Off you go IK," Napoleon prompted.

Illya gave his partner a withering look. "I'll get it then shall I?"

Keeping his eyes peeled for anything suspicious, Illya walked over to the trash can, grabbed the package and came back to the car. Napoleon immediately set off for HQ, while using his communicator to stand down the other agents. They'd only been moving for about a minute when Illya, very quietly, and very calmly, told Solo to stop.

"What is it, Tovarisch?"

"Get out of the car, Napoleon, and evacuate the immediate area. This box has just started to vibrate."

It was then that the CEA realised just how still Illya had become. He didn't bother to question his partner. Despite being the Russian's superior, when it came to situations involving explosives, Illya was very much in charge. Napoleon carefully opened the door and climbed out. He didn't close it again, not wishing to cause too much of a vibration. Within twenty minutes, the area was swarming with police. Napoleon had called back the agents he'd stood down, and they were helping to co-ordinate the evacuation. Illya had been furnished with a set of tools and had begun his efforts to diffuse the device.

The only way to get into it was to remove the lid, Kuryakin's heart had practically stopped beating has he'd slowly slid it off. For all he knew, that act alone could have triggered the thing. Within the box, was what Illya considered to be a standard looking bomb, but with one major difference. Three strips of the wiring weren't insulated. It had been assembled so that none of the exposed copper wires touched. The way it had been done was obviously deliberate, but Illya's was at a loss to understand why.

From what he hoped was a safe distance, Napoleon observed his partner through binoculars. To anyone who didn't know him, Illya looked incredibly calm. Solo, however, could see the tension in his neck and jaw. He had every faith in the man's abilities, but one of these days, someone was going to be better than he was.

With deftness and precision, Illya was able to disassemble most of the bomb's components, leaving the only the exposed wiring, a battery and the explosives. He really wished he could do a controlled explosion, but he couldn't risk moving the device to a more open location. There was no choice but to cut the wires and hope for the best. He removed his tie, and wrapped it around the handles of the wire cutters, in an attempt to protect himself from electrocution. It didn't work.

Illya snipped through the first wire and yelled out in pain as a jolt shot up his arm. Breathing deeply through his nose, he hesitantly cut the second wire. The same thing happened. He could feel every nerve ending tingling, and dizziness washed over him. Closing his eyes, and holding his breath, Illya snipped the final wire. Holding on just long enough to realise there was no bang, he passed out.

He came to with Napoleon patting his cheek.

"Well done, Chum. You saved the city again. Let's get this lot back to HQ and you into medical."

"Nyet!" Illya retorted. "I am fine, my friend."

"Okay, Mr Stubborn," Solo replied, with resignation. "But if you feel unwell, you are to take yourself for medical attention."

Illya opened his mouth to argue, but Napoleon cut him off.

"I'm making it an order, Kuryakin."

Illya offered Napoleon a rigid, and precise, salute. "Sir, yes Sir."

The American gave the Russian a withering look, before setting off back to HQ. His partner could be insufferable at times, but he was grateful to still have him around to cause an annoyance.