Missions and Commissions
The Agent waited as patiently as possible for the forthcoming interview. Certainly he had been in enough stressful situations in his life that this meeting shouldn't be causing him issues, but there it was!
Finally he was ushered into the private office and formally introduced to Her Majesty, the Queen. He gave a formal bow, carefully calibrated to show his respect, but slightly curtailed, also, to indicate that he was not one of her subjects.
He was keenly aware of the fact that most of his weapons had been surrendered to her security chief before entering the room, but so long as he was able to move, he carried numerous deadly weapons, gifted to him by millennia of evolution. He was a consummate master of twenty-six ways to kill someone, with his bare hands, and other body parts. He also had the advantage that someone given a weapon, such as a gun or knife, or a wand, almost invariably developed tunnel vision about using that alone, and ignoring all other options.
She did not keep him waiting further to emphasize her dominant position, but ordered a chair for her 'honored guest'. Her desk was devoid of paperwork, except for a single file folder open before her, and Illya had no doubt what that contained. Most certainly every scrap of intelligence MI-6 had been able to put together about him, from all over the world.
It was remarkably thin, considering.
"Welcome, Doctor Kuryakin."
So, they HAD found his academic records, some of them at least.
"It seems you are the original, authentic, 'international man of mystery'. Mr. Powers, if he existed, would be extremely jealous." She gave him a pleasant smile, that somehow did not reach her eyes.
"You compiled an excellent primary school record there in Kyiv, in spite of the difficulties Lenin and Stalin both created for your family. Your service record in the Soviet Navy was unblemished, and you reached lower level command rank rather quickly. Since coming to the West, you first spent time operating alone, under the nom de guerre of Simon Templar, aka 'The Saint'."
"After the last World War you took a 'time out' to acquire a Master's Degree from the Sorbonne, with quite impressive honors. We could not pin down when you graduated Cambridge, or under what name, but it is established that you earned your PhD in Quantum Mechanics, summa cum laude."
"You have worked for the U.N.C.L.E. for several decades, formerly teamed with Mr. Napoleon Solo. Your wizarding heritage has granted you both long life and a career exceptionally free from physical damage, overall. Your specialty has included dealing with vampires, werewolves, demons, and other situations under the general classification of 'magic'."
"Six Gold Medals in International Free Pistol, including one in the Olympics, under various names."
So … they had missed one! Which one? he wondered briefly.
"We have testimony that you are fluent in French, Spanish, German, Arabic, Italian, and Japanese, in addition to the obvious … Russian and English."
They missed two dialects of Chinese he mused. Thai also.
"In spite of all these little very interesting tidbits, some of our most dedicated, industrious, and facile investigators have found you an extremely irritating enigma. One of them summarized it as 'Nobody knows what Illya Kuryakin does, when he goes home at night.'"
"You have been recommended by the Director of MI-5 as our best choice for a mission of great urgency, commissioned by Royal Warrants. If you are granted these, you will be temporarily listed as an authorized agent of the Crown, denominated as 'Agent 009 3/4' for reasons best left unstated."
So the British sense of humor, which some denied existed at all, was still in evidence. The last time he had seen that was when he was working in 'Popski's Private Army', the smallest independent unit of the British Army in WW II. Another thing they missed.
That drew an actual smile from the Agent, the first she had seen, and his blue eyes sparkled briefly. He was obviously aware of the exact source of that designation.
One of the royal "gofers" present handed him another file folder. He read through the few pages it contained at a speed even Her Majesty could not help being impressed by.
"Should you accept these commissions, you will also be commissioned as a Captain in the Royal Naval Reserve, a rank you will retain, even when your warrants have been completed, unless you resign from it by your own choice. You will be paid as such while on assignment."
"Your Majesty, I am honored to be offered these commissions, but until I know the details, I can neither accept nor refuse."
Yet another folder was presented, and Illya carefully read each of the documents it contained.
"Your Majesty, I am sure you have been briefed about the attitude of your subjects in the so-called 'Wizarding World' toward modern weapons and methods of operation. I would require a written grant of royal authority to operate as I see fit in the completion of these commissions, over-riding any presumed authority of any member of the Wizarding government or any governmental body of that world, since I would refuse these commissions should I be so restricted."
Yet another folder was presented to him, this particular objection having been fully anticipated by the Royal Wizard and his staff. This again brought a brief smile to his face.
He arose and returned the folders in his hand to the Queen's desk.
"Your Majesty, I accept your commissions."
The Queen picked up a pen, and one by one signed each of the documents, the necessary seals being affixed by her staff gofer.
The documents were handed over, and Illya again executed his carefully calibrated bow, and left the office.
Once outside, the security staff all congratulated him on his new rank as Naval Captain, no matter that it was a Reserve commission, offered advice on the best place to obtain a uniform if he so desired, and returned the half a dozen lethal weapons he had surrendered when he arrived. Although some of them cast covetous eyes on a few of them, especially an authentic Fairbairn-Sykes assassination dagger, from the original World War II issue, sharp enough to shave with. No one doubted it had seen its share of action over the intervening years.
As he departed he ruminated on getting that British Navy uniform, and wearing the many and varied decorations that lived in his bottom right hand desk drawer, from WW II and since, and from over a dozen nations.