"What in the blazes…? Who set off those fireworks?"

Let's back up a little…

Napoleon Solo was not new to the Continent, he had visited here several times already in his career as a spy. Some of his past was truly that, gone and forgotten as well as could be. Currently he was with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, an organization intent on regulating evil with a hand towards compromise and peaceful co-existence. Intrinsically, that is to say in his ideals of a perfect world, UNCLE had a future that bode well for the future of the planet. As a full time optimist, that made his work more worthwhile somehow. Solo believed good could prevail.

A newer recruit to UNCLE had a slightly less optimistic outlook, was in fact a child of war and a survivor of much that the American would never, could never fully comprehend. Illya Kuryakin had been handed over to UNCLE from the Kremlin ( a gesture of good faith it was called) , in return for inclusion in this proposed forerunner of detente. Kuryakin would be a sort of sacrificial lamb to the process of assimilating UNCLE's resources in pursuit of the always pre-eminent goal of Soviet expansion. If their man could learn of something to aid in that, so be it. If not, he was just one of many whose lives were of little consequence to Moscow; to be churned out and spit into the void of Western decadence like a cat spewing out a hairball. He would be watched for now, that is all.

The London Headquarters for UNCLE was buzzing with the arrival of these agents; one of them the American and the other, remarkably, Russian. While they weren't actually intended to work together, the fact that these two would be meeting within the framework of a purely apolitical organization held a fascination among those who knew of it.

Kuryakin had particular opinions regarding all of this peaceful co-existence propaganda. In his quieter moments he imagined Alexander Waverly, the chief architect as far as he knew, to be the zeitgeist at the center of change among nations. He had hopes for this, knew that, in fact his very survival probably depended on it. His view of Waverly in this capacity fueled his desire to work for the man, to succeed. He was Russian to the core, but no amount of rhetorical nationalism could remove the heartache and deprivation he had endured as a result of the Soviet machine. He owed his family, long gone but never forgotten, the very best he could offer in this new opportunity. Perhaps he was also a zeitgeist of this age, something Tolstoy might have written about.

Napoleon Solo had heard of the new Soviet acquisition, although he highly doubted that any agent from the USSR could be fully Waverly's man. The odds against the Kremlin sending someone malleable enough to actually join forces with UNCLE seemed stacked. He hadn't actually met Kuryakin yet, although a few reports regarding his general appearance and demeanor had reached him. A few of the girls thought he was cute, something of which he had never been accused. Solo was handsome, engaging and charming. Women flocked to him as though he were dipped in some sweet nectar, while men enjoyed his camaraderie and obvious leadership skills. He was the image of UNCLE that Alexander Waverly wished to present to the world.

On tap at UNCLE HQ, and the reason for Solo's presence in London, was a gala event being held on the estate of Lord Elmore Blankenship, a relative newcomer to the world of English privilege, having inherited both his land and title through a series of marriages and divorces that had produced no real heir save him; a nephew of low standing but apparent good luck. He had hired a person to handle his resources and public image, something recommended to him by a British film star who had once allowed him into her bedroom. While she never made that mistake again, she held some affection for him and therefore, not surprisingly, lent him her own publicist. Her star was no longer rising and, well… it wouldn't hurt to be the friend of a real British Lord.

Kuryakin and Solo were both assigned to this little soiree, neither of them yet fully acquainted with the other. If someone hadn't slipped up on scheduling then they might have met at Headquarters. However, in the fuzzy warmth of a Solo embrace, followed by a kiss that might keep her satisfied for days to come, Miss Parker forgot to tell him to meet up with Mr. Kuryakin in the commissary at noon. That meant Napoleon going off into the English countryside alone with only his orders and a dubious invitation to the event that would be found out to be a meeting between a THRUSH operative and the gullible and not entirely honorable Lord Blankenship. Word had gotten out about his desire to join the criminal organization that was currently at the top of the list where combating evil was concerned. Waverly was intent on destroying the supranational organization, and he was sending Solo and Kuryakin in to put an end to this particular liaison.

Illya decided that he had been either misinformed or purposely snubbed by the American. He had heard things about Napoleon Solo, some of which were complimentary and others… well, he certainly would not have met KGB rules of conduct. Perhaps he simply refused to work with a Russian, but that would come to an end tonight. Illya rounded up his provision for the evening and was handed the keys to a red roadster that he had eyed longingly only the day before. He could get used to working here.

The evening found both UNCLE agents in place, although unaware of the other's presence. Solo had disregarded the advice of another agent to check again on the Russian's whereabouts. If Kuryakin deemed it acceptable to ignore him then, well… so be it. He could handle this on his own, had been operating that way for the past year in fact. Mr. Waverly said to try and make it work, but the Russian was a no show, and therefore not Solo's fault.

Kuryakin was easily assimilated into the wait staff, his lean appearance more suited to the servants in the house rather than the well-fed look of English aristocracy. Besides, his Socialist leanings made it difficult to want to meld into that crowd. He imagined that Napoleon Solo would do well among those other people, the oppressors. In his mind, at present, Solo was truly one of them and therefore not surprising that he had chosen to ignore Illya and leave Headquarters without him.

Lord Blankenship was anxious to meet with the agent from THRUSH. His entire life had been a series of nearly criminal activities that, beneath the inquiries leading to his inheritance, had not compromised him as he might have feared. It had been imperative to fill the position and he, as luck would have it, had scored his greatest job yet. He had heard of THRUSH, of their various activities in and around London. The merging of their efforts seemed inevitable, and would be very profitable for all involved.

On tap for the evening's entertainment was a fireworks display; as it was planned, it would allow the THRUSH emissary to leave, without discovery, the meeting with Blankenship in the outer garden. Under the cover of the fireworks, no one would be looking for either of them. It seemed a good beginning to the relationship between the two criminal elements.

When Illya Kurykin found himself surrounded by explosives, something like a mild euphoria enveloped him. He had experienced this since an early age, perhaps due to growing up amidst the bombing and gunfire of the war; normally it would make a person cringe because of the memories. Instead of fear, however, Kuryakin had developed a keen knack for explosives and weaponry, had even been retained at Survival School in order to teach a class on explosives. That experience had been his first encounter with Napoleon Solo, or at least the man's reputation. It became a goal to best Solo's scores, and he had succeeded in doing so a few times. Not enough, but it was a start. As for this evening, he reckoned on holding most of the cards for successfully ending Lord Blankenship's THRUSH career.

Napoleon entered the sparkling ballroom of the great house with the ease of one born to the manor, so to speak. He had a heritage that included men who were admirals and ambassadors; he was schooled in the niceties of social and cultural habits, amenities that aided him at the frequent events such as the one this evening. Solo could mix with the highest members of society and leave them wondering where he had come from, without ever questioning his right to be there. It was a gift, not unlike Kuryakins gift with explosives. Both of them got results.

Across the room Napoleon spotted a woman he recognized from a dossier on THRUSH personnel in London. She was pretty, brunette, with a crooked little smile that charmed him completely. How unfortunate that she worked for the enemy, otherwise…

Illya was carrying a silver serving tray loaded with canapés and attitude. Nothing so evoked the bourgeoise lifestyle like a tray of silly bits of food not suitable for a meal. Kuraykin loathed this environment, and wished fervently to be free of it. That is until he spotted Solo on the dance floor with his arms around a woman he recognized from a file on Blankenship. It was the actress Dina Davenport, rumored to have been a paramour of the current Lord and most probably a future Lady Blankenship. She had the connections and the money to help the man attain his social status, at least as much as would be allowed. Unlike a Soviet environment where all men could be equal, even British nobles had degrees of nobility; it was a source of some amusement to Kuryakin, in his present state of mind.

While Napoleon was waltzing and making nice with the Lord's lady, he watched as Blankenship slipped out of the french doors that led to a large veranda overlooking the gardens. 'Aha,' he thought to himself, 'that must be the beginnings of this evening's entertainment.'

"Thank you so much for this dance,' Napoleon enthused to Dina. "I must excuse myself now, I see someone of my father's circle that I cannot ignore." He kissed her hand and left her feeling a little warm for having met the charming young American. Perhaps there would be benefits to this position she had yet to consider.

Napoleon made his way across the room, pretending to stop and speak to a man that he assumed Dina would perceive to be the acquaintance already mentioned. Skirting around him them towards the French doors, the American checked to see if anyone was looking before exiting the same way Blankenship had. Once outside on the terrace Napoleon scanned the gardens for any sight of the man, opting to follow what seemed an obvious path down through the rows of roses that bordered a walkway.

Blankenship had arranged to meet beneath the fireworks, out beyond the garden's edge as it bordered the forrest beyond. There was a building there that housed some of the gardener's implements, an addition built sometime in the past thirty or forty years. No one would be there and the conversation could be had without fear of interruption. The Lord Blankenship, heir to this modest estate and dreamer of far more, was excited to the point of near euphoria at the prospects he entertained as the result of joining forces with THRUSH.

Illya had overheard some of the wait staff discussing the fireworks that were scheduled for the evening's entertainment. His heart skipped a beat at the thought of what he could do with a generous supply of fireworks, most certainly he could upset the schedule by usurping the display and using it for his own purposes. Trouble was he didn't really have a plan, something that was oft times missing. Perhaps he should contact Solo after all, the American was touted as a formidable strategist, a trait he lacked. The trouble was he didn't see Solo anywhere in the room, nor Blankenship. The clock was, apparently, ticking.

Solo finally caught sight of Blankenship as he wound his way through the garden towards what he thought looked to be a building of some sort. A short flash of light caught his attention, a cigarette lighter perhaps. He had not seen anyone else, but now it was almost a certainty that this was the meeting place.

Illya slipped out of the kitchen in time to see Napoleon Solo heading down a pathway into the garden. He decided it was time to find the fireworks and lend a hand towards upsetting this little party. If Solo was onto something then he ought to be as well. At least, it seemed so. It was decided then, locate the fireworks and set them off and let Solo fend for himself with the THRUSH agent. He at least will have accomplished something. At least he hoped so. Going back to Russia was not high on his list of things to do.

As Napoleon neared the little shed where he now saw two silhouettes from the low lights within, he heard footsteps coming from behind. Perhaps Kuryakin had finally showed up…

"Ah, Mr. Solo. I thought perhaps it was too good to believe that you were merely a guest, merely someone looking for a hand up in society." The gun in her hand was slightly surprising, but the tone of Dina's voice dispelled any hope that she was not seriously considering shooting him. Napoleon extended his hand in a conciliatory gesture, smiling as he did so and hoping there was enough moonlight to aid his plight.

"Dina, you look exquisite in moonlight, if I may say so. You really don't need that gun, however, because…"

"Because it isn't how it looks? Oh darling, I seriously doubt that you are anything other than an UNCLE agent, sent here to dismantle poor Blinky's plans for a THRUSH enfused criminal empire." Napoleon continued to smile, only slightly surprised that Dina would be included in Blinky's plans.

"Really, Blinky? Not a very distinguished sounding name for a man in his position." He thought he caught the beginning of a smile on the woman's face.

"Oh, well our Blinky isn't the least bit distinguished now, is he. No, he's come upon this inheritance in the usual manner for those not born to it… all kinds of serendipity that leaves the upper crust slightly burned." Now she was smiling, obviously enjoying the life she envisioned beside her Blinky.

"I truly am sorry Mr. Solo, but there is not any way in which I see you outliving this encounter." She raised the gun and pointed it directly at Solo's heart.

Bam! Bang and Bedazzle! Fireworks lit up the sky at that exact moment, giving Napoleon the opportunity to disarm Dina and, with some regret, knock her out with a wicked right hook. Not before a shot was fired, however, something that alerted the pair within the little shed that the plan was off course. As for hitting a woman, he hated having to do it, but he hated the prospect of dying slightly more.

Inside the little shed the THRUSH agent extinguished the light, believing that Blankenship had double-crossed her and leaving little choice but to shoot the man. As his Lordship cried out,"What in the blazes…? Who set off those fireworks?", Solo heard the shot, saw the woman running from the scene as he fought with his duty to investigate what had happened. Upon entering the dimly lit shed it was evident that Blankenship was dead. The fireworks had set off more than bright lights, it had effectively ended this threat of a coalition between His Lordship and THRUSH.

Illya Kuryakin had been as gentle as possible when knocking out the fellow in charge of the fireworks. He would have only a mild headache to deal with, and the excuse that he really was overwhelmed by a superior force. It was true of course, and Illya had no doubt of his superiority in most things. He would need to explain this course of action to someone, but for now he needed to get back to Headquarters and wait for news of how Solo had fared. Even if they never met up to coordinate this affair, he felt confident that his fireworks had somehow aided the American. After all, any man worth his salt in this business could make good use of some firepower such as he had provided.

Napoleon wondered about the fireworks, was aware that they had gone off before scheduled. Dina, when she finally came to, admitted as much and was angry at Solo for somehow orchestrating the change that had resulted in Blankenship's death. Had things gone off as planned then the meeting with THRUSH wouldn't have been interrupted and her ticket to wealth and power not ruined. Yes, it was the fireworks that ruined all of it. Their plans were specific and orderly, and now they were gone.

A team of agents was sent in to help Solo sort out the remains of this affair. Even though he and Kuryakin had never made contact he somehow felt confident that this was the work of the Russian. His reputation with explosives had been widely touted, and this smacked of the type of insolence and showboating that he was inclined to expect from the former KGB agent. Once set loose on an unsuspecting world, these types were better kept at arm's length. Waverly would surely have something to say about all of this, and especially about how well it had turned out, thanks to Napoleon's quick actions.

The inquiries concerning the fireworks were made behind closed doors. The first question asked was why Illya had been operating on his own, without Solo's knowledge. He was, after all, a senior to Kuryakin, two years in the field ahead of him. In Illya's defense he noted that the only arranged meeting between the two had been missed by the American, leaving Illya to act on his own and try to decipher what best would aid the mission. Having observed Solo leaving the party, and then being followed by the woman known to be Blankenship's companion, he had decided to head for the fireworks and try to create a diversion with which to aid the other agent. And it had, apparently, lending to the success of shutting down this planned alliance.

Napoleon's account was slightly different but with the same results. He had, sadly and with remorse, missed the meeting due to an untimely encounter with… um… (he couldn't admit it had been one of the secretaries, could he?), a confidential informant whose name he could not reasonably be expected to share here. He figured that the information gained from this, um… informant, actually helped him to discover the secret rendezvous which he interrupted with the aid of the unscheduled fireworks.

All in all, both men held up to the rigorous demands of answering to their actions. Neither of them pointed out any flaws in the other man's actions or motives, but found ample means to justify their own by comparing the results achieved. In tandem, without meaning to be, the pair had taken down what might have proved to be a very troublesome criminal alliance. Without ever crossing paths with each other, they had partnered in an affair that would now be closed and labeled a success on all accounts.

Solo managed to catch a flight out of Heathrow before Kuryakin had opportunity to properly introduce himself. The two missed each other by a matter of minutes, something that would be rectified in the future.

That meeting would change the course of both their lives.