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The brazen THRUSHie had come dangerously close to breaching their secure entrance at Del Floria’s, and one thing was guaranteed for the New York U.N.C.L.E. agents—their loyalty to Del.
And so, when the THRUSHie in question had knocked out Del, the highest-ranking field agents, Napoleon and Illya, picked up the chase personally, while Mark and April tended to the slight-battered and mostly-shaken tailor.
The chase led through Midtown Manhattan, into the heart of the Theatre District, through twists and turns as their quarry tried to throw them off his trail. It was as they passed one of the alleyways that Napoleon got an idea.
“You keep running on terra firma, Illya; I’ll try to narrow the gap from above.”
Illya hadn’t the foggiest idea as to what Napoleon meant, and there was no time to rest and ask him; his last sight of Napoleon was of him heading up one of the fire escapes.
But as he continued the chase from the ground, Illya did look up briefly, staring as a familiar silhouette jumped from building ledge to building ledge.
Even while running, Illya called out a furious rant in Ukrainian, of which also included a frustrated namedrop of Errol Flynn.
Their paths all intersected on 51st Street. As Illya turned the corner, following the THRUSHie down Broadway, Napoleon now leaped from the marquee of the Winter Garden Theatre (which, ironically enough, was for the musical Tovarisch), tackling the utterly baffled miscreant from above.
Illya finally stopped to catch his breath.
“I hope you are proud of yourself,” he quipped.
“Immensely,” Napoleon grinned.
He hauled up the THRUSHie, who was mumbling something about U.N.C.L.E. dropping agents from the sky.
“It’s a pity we can’t stay for a while; this looks like our kind of show,” Napoleon added, indicating the Tovarisch marquee. “But let’s make plans to check it out when we’ve got some free time.”
Illya rolled his eyes, but followed Napoleon back to U.N.C.L.E. anyway.