THE

DECEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH

AFFAIR

by

gm

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December 24, 1964

The last eight months of work as a field agent for UNCLE had been an exciting experience for the Russian. Almost immediately he had been partnered with the newly appointed Chief of Enforcement for Section Two, Napoleon Solo. Though the gregarious and vibrant Solo was a complete opposite to the taciturn, almost shy Kuryakin, their partnership had become the most successful team in UNCLE North America.

Over the months they had transformed the partnership from that of teacher/student, to partners -- a meshed unit of agents who could go into any situation and function as a single entity. It had been a time of great learning and growing on two sides, both on a personal and professional basis.

Now, it was the day before Christmas. UNCLE operatives were spread unusually thin at this time and Illya and Napoleon had been given separate assignments. Kuryakin had been allocated surveillance work in New York, and Solo had been given an assignment in Saigon. Kuryakin had no compunctions about working during the holiday season, but many others, including the blithe Solo, had been disappointed with 'work-as-usual'.

Like all Westerners, particularly Americans, Solo was sentimental about the Yuletide season. Thus, he had arranged a Christmas Eve drink with Kuryakin in a favorite bar. This created a unique dilemma for the Russian.

Solo had already bought him a Christmas present -- purely by accident Kuryakin had stumbled across the small package while doing some paperwork in Solo's office. Well, it was very difficult to keep secrets in a spy headquarters! Even for a top agent like Solo.

Now Kuryakin felt compelled to reciprocate with a present to his friend. Yes, friend.

He had permitted himself few luxuries since his acclimatization to the United States. Particularly, he had kept to himself and purposely avoided personal relationships. His theory was simple: dealings with people on a regular basis quickly escalated to A) extended contact, B) closeness, and C) a lowering of defenses -- vulnerability -- dependence. Or a loss of independence. As an operative in a very dangerous and deadly business, he could not afford this kind of Achilles heel.

One of the things he had been surprised to learn in the last eight months, however, was that Solo's philosophies were very similar, but the senior agent had an entirely different approach. Solo had openly accepted him as a partner -- willing to teach, and learn -- in a true symbiotic retaliation. But it was much later, though Kuryakin could never be sure when, that the American had just as openly accepted him as a friend.

Illya had learned that 'friend' held a very special connotation to the senior agent and it was not a label Solo used indiscriminately.

Solo seemed to have many associates, but almost no close intimates -- friends. It was Solo's instinctive defense to resist serious emotional involvements, which were completely impractical for a spy. Everyone in the business was expendable, even a close friend.

Friend.

He mentally rolled the word around in his mind like Napoleon would test a new wine on his palate. 'Friend', held a certain -- warmth, security, acceptability, even trust. Kuryakin had been associated with various and sundry comrades, school-fellows, and acquaintances, but never anyone he could define as a friend.

The thoughts swirled around in his mind as he thrust his hands deeper into the pockets of the warm trench coat and kicked aside drifts of snow from his path. Light flurries were cascading on his face and shoulders and he was forced to continually brush the cold flakes from his long hair. The brightly decorated windows distracted his attention and he found his eyes window-gazing each store he passed.

A gift. Yes, a gift for his friend Napoleon would be appropriate. After all, Christmas was a time to exchange tokens, a time of symbolic rituals. It seemed the right time to commemorate a partnership -- a friendship -- which had brought a new dimension to his life. But, what would be appropriate?

Something useful perhaps? Being an international spy required a rather non-materialistic lifestyle. Solo enjoyed the luxuries his comfortable salary allowed and seemed to satisfy a capitalistic taste for expensive cars, women, clothes, and liquor. Solo's fast life also seemed to leave him capitalist and continually broke.

Solo didn't seem to NEED anything. Their greatest needs were to stay alive in a literally cutthroat business. UNCLE adequately provided them with clever little devises, which each agent used to prolong his existence. In that department Solo's only need seemed to be the permanent attachment of a homing device implanted in a tooth, or under a fingernail, or anywhere the American couldn't lose it. On the last assignment Solo had managed to get himself captured -- yet again -- an occupational hazard Solo seemed particularly vulnerable to. Kuryakin had been lucky to effect a rescue while Solo was still in one piece. It had been a harrowing experience.

The Russian should have recognized his intense anxiety and concern for Solo was by then the intense concern of a friend for a friend and not for just another agent.

Yes, a homing devise was exactly what Solo needed, though Kuryakin was the first to admit it was as impersonal as a wall hanging or a shirt -- though Solo had ruined two shirts on that last mission . . .

Now that Kuryakin had admitted to having a friend, a gift to this friend had to be personal, yet something Napoleon would appreciate. Already the Russian was learning the first lesson of companionship -- friendship was never easy!

The blond agent stopped in front of a brightly decorated sporting goods display and ran his eye over the ski equipment, then shook his head in silent rejection as he strolled to the next window. As he was passing a small jewelry shop a shaft of glittering silver caught his eye and he focused on an object in a glass case.

Nestled in dark blue velvet was a platinum ring with an azure stone. There was a verdant richness in the way the blue jewel captured and danced with the light. Like a pinpoint of contained starbeam in a nugget of sunmoonlight. There was an understated elegance in the artistry of the setting. Though he considered men's jewelry an ostentatious show of status, Kuryakin liked this ring.

Even as he admired the workmanship, the artist inside him saw beyond the surface to wonderful possibilities. This was not just a beautiful ring with an expensive gem, but an innocuous casing for a miniature transmitter/receiver!

It would be no challenge at all to remove the stone, rework the setting and implant a microcircuit. He could easily accomplish it before his meeting with Solo.

***

Napoleon Solo sidled through the crush of holiday cheerers with barely a wrinkle to his meticulous suit. After all, slipping through tight situations was an occupational necessity. The suave American had mastered such maneuvers with practiced aplomb, whether it was a knife-fight in a Bombay alley or a dance floor in Manhattan.

Even through the crowd of well wishers, Solo had no trouble finding his companion. The wiry blond agent in black turtleneck was conspicuously remote wedged in a corner at the bar. In the bubbly party atmosphere the innate Slavic soberness hung like a cloud over his enigmatic friend. He hadn't known Kuryakin for long, in many ways didn't know him at all, yet in other ways it seemed he had known the Russian forever. Kuryakin was brilliant, talented, a skilled agent, yet could sometimes bbe a mysterious stranger. Still, Solo had truly grown attached to this unique -- friend.

Since Solo's first taste of espionage work in Korea, he had decided to dedicate his life to this netherworld career. He had been forced to curb his natural gregarious tendencies, bury an innate compassion, and build reserves and walls between himself and others. He had already painfully learned that closeness to another spy was emotionally shattering when that spy was killed. He had qQuickly he realized if he kept all relationships superficial, both in and out of UNCLE, it was a much easier approach to life. But it was often a lonely and empty existence that was as unsatisfying as flat champagne. But, then, no one ever said life would be easy.

Then he had been assigned to tutor Kuryakin, and Solo had felt compelled to help the Russian who seemed painfully alone in a new country and new occupation. Their successful missions gave them confidence in the new partnership and they found they had many similar interests. Mutual trust and dependence soon turned to comfortable companionship and banter. Without realizing it, Solo had acquired an emotional investment in his new partner, and found he liked the precarious balance of professional and personal closeness. Kuryakin was worthy of the trust, loyalty and commitment Solo was willing to give -- almost anxious to give. And there was a mutual need for that friendship. He could sense more than see the Russian needed this kind of companionship as much as he did. Maybe that was what friendship was all about.

Solo wedged in the seat nearest Kuryakin. There were two glasses in front of the blond agent.

"I ordered you a drink. I thought it would save time considering the crowd," he commented as he glanced at his watch.

Solo glanced over his partner's shoulder. "That late already? I was stuck finishing that report on the Karnak affair."

Two drinks later Kuryakin was again forced to remind Solo of the rapidly evaporating time. Perhaps he should have bought Napoleon a watch with a beeper instead.

"You have only two hours before your flight leaves."

"Yes," Solo grimaced in displeasure. "Christmas Eve. The airport will be a mess. So will the streets. I guess I better push off," he commented reluctantly. He made a great show of searching for his wallet. While rummaging in his pockets, a small, brightly wrapped package fell out.

Kuryakin automatically caught it.

Solo seemed contrite. "Gee, I almost forgot." He took the package and read the label. "To Illya Kuryakin. Must be yours," he said with a smile and handed it to his partner.

"Thank you, Napoleon," Illya smiled as he accepted the gift with one hand and held out a small wrapped box with the other. "This is for you."

Solo was genuinely surprised and so touched by the sentiment he stuttered for a response. "Ah -- Illya -- thanks. I didn't expect -- I mean, I didn't think you celebrated . . ." he trailed off uncertainly.

Kuryakin savored the rare moment of discomfort the smooth Solo was suffering, then returned easily with, "I don't usually. But the exchange of gifts seems a worthy tradition between friends." The sober set of the Russian's face slowly transformed with the beginnings of a grin.

Solo laughed warmly and touched his companions arm. "Very worthy, my friend. Now why don't you open your package? The suspense is killing me."

Kuryakin nodded. "Only if you open yours," he challenged a bit anxiously.

"Done."

Solo carefully unwrapped the shiny, bright red paper, though his curiosity urged him to hasten the procedure. It had been a long time since he had been filled with such delighted anticipation over a surprise gift.

He extracted the small black box and opened the lid. The elegant and expensive ring was breathtaking! Solo removed the silver ring and turned it in his hand. He was dazzled by the play of light on the sparkling blue stone. His initials were engraved inside.

"Wow!" was all he could find to say.

The exclamation brought Kuryakin out of his haze. But just barely. Appreciating Solo's surprise Hhis eyes quickly returned to the sterling silver money clip nestled in the cheery Christmas wrapping. The clip was inlaid with a Russian Ruble and initialed with I.K.

Solo had slipped his ring on his little finger and admired the handsome setting, then glanced at his partner. He was gratified to see the surprise and appreciation on Illya's face. He knew Illya had no real friends and would spend Christmas as just another day at work. Solo was too sentimental to allow that for his partner -- his friend. A knot of emotion stuck in his throat as he was warmed by a glow of triumph. The painstakingly chosen gift was just right. He felt like a kid who had spent the last of his allowance money to buy a treasured gift for a best buddy. For the first time in too many years he felt he understood the old cliché that it was better to give than to receive.

"I hope you like it." The comment hesitant, uncertain. "I found it in this great shop in Piccadilly Circus last time I was in London. You seem to have such trouble keeping your cash straight . . . "

"It’s – remarkable, Napoleon. Wonderful craftsmanship. And where did you get a ruble?" He examined the clip under the dim bar light.

"It wasn’t easy. It’s hard buying for the spy who needs everything." The tease came with a grin of amusement at never missing an opportunity to rib the Russian’s spartan lifestyle.

"Ha! It was no slice of pie to find something for the spy who has everything."

"Piece of cake."

"What?"

"Nevermind." Solo waved aside the correction and again studied the ring.

Kuryakin raised his glass and smiled behind the rim; amused and delighted he had found a gift Napoleon so obviously appreciated. The Russian mentally gave himself a pat on the back for acumen.

"You mentioned you were looking for a ring. I hope this is something you like."

"It’s great. I’ve never seen anything like it." His expressive face alight with sincere confirmation of the delight and enjoyment.

Blue eyes gleamed mischievously. "You don’t know how true that is, Napoleon!"

The dark haired agent was learning to read the Russian’s cryptic expressions and comments. Working so closely together as a team, they had developed nonverbal communications that were easily interpreted. Illya had something up his sleeve and Solo was puzzled.

"What does that mean?"

"You’ll see soon enough." A typically mysterious reply.

Solo refused to give him the satisfaction of showing curiosity. "How did you know my ring size?"

"Really, Napoleon! You can’t expect me to give away trade secrets!"

Ruefully, Napoleon shook his head and smiled in acceptance. There was so much he still didn’t know about his partner – so much the Russian kept secret from everyone. Normally, Solo would not have accepted that in an agent he had to trust with his life on a daily basis. He sensed immediately in Kuryakin, however, the intense privacy at the core of the personality. From the beginning of their relationship he knew he could not push this proud and solitary man.

Now with the advantage of hindsight, Solo knew he had been right. Time and fate had forged a link between them that was stronger and deeper than any ordinary partnership he had ever known – not that he had been open to many partnerships in his time. Solo was not just his last name, but a job description to the cynical, guarded American. With Illya things were different. They shared a real friendship he had not known before and grew stronger with each assignment, each risk. Here was a man he was willing to go to the wall for and he knew Illya would do the same for him. Abruptly, he wondered how he had managed so far without a real friend to watch his back. Sentimentally (it MUST be the season!) he felt he had just been waiting for the right friend to come along. All the way from Russia in this case – something he would have never anticipated. Fate, however, frequently provided surprising twists to his life – this time it was the best he could remember.

Napoleon picked up his glass and raised it in a toast. "Here’s to wish you a Merry Christmas, my friend."

Kuryakin raised his glass to Solo’s. "Happy Christmas, Napoleon."

Solo gulped down the last of his scotch and patted Kuryakin on the arm. "It’s time for me to run. If I don’t make my appointment in Saigon, Waverly will cook my goose for Christmas dinner." Grabbing his coat and small suitcase he once again thanked his friend. "It’s been a good Christmas, my friend. One I won’t forget. Thanks."

"But I didn’t explain the ring – "

"Don’t have time now, Illya." He was already coursing through the heavy holiday crush of partniers.

"It’s not just a ring – "

Solo was already lost in the crowd. "Oh, I’ll just have to explain on the way. He threw down some money and chased after his partner.

Napoleon was already at the curb flagging down a cab. "What are you doing?" he asked when Illya raced up to him.

"Get in. I have to explain about the ring." Climbing in beside his friend he explainedclarifed,. "The most important factor for you, since you have a proclivity for getting yourself lost at every opportunity, is this little device I made inside . . . "

Solo smiled fondly, knowing this really was one Christmas Eve he would never forget.

THE END

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