I don't remember why I posted this or where, but I ran across it in the same thumb drive where I found The Deadly Date Affair.
It's short, but I hope it makes you chuckle.
"Ah, excuse me but, what exactly are you going to do with that whip?"
Napoleon Solo was not afraid of anything. Well, not many things. He was not overly fond of whips, especially when the intent of its use included his backside. At the moment he was sincerely afraid that the backside in question was not his own, however.
"Oh, you shouldn't worry Mr. Solo. I believe that Mr. Kuryakin will be able to withstand the pain long enough to tell me what I want to know."
Illya let out a muffled grunt against the pain of the whip lashing his bare skin. Napoleon noted the pink whelp it produced and felt himself going slightly queasy at the sight of it. His own memories of being lashed aboard Captain Shark's ship came to mind too quickly.
"Look, this is unnecessary Lambert. We don't have the microdot. You've searched us, inside and out… there's nothing here." Napoleon was pleading now, a second strike on the Russian's back elicited a howl of pain; it would get worse, he was certain.
Elijah Lambert laughed at the UNCLE agent's attempt to dissuade him. It wasn't a matter of finding the elusive microdot any longer. No, he had a thirst for blood and vengeance and the blond would do nicely for satisfying the current mood.
"You are mistaken Solo. You have what I need and I intend to entertain myself first with Kuryakin and then…" He leered at Solo then, like a predator eyeing its prey and contemplating how to take it down.
Illya shook his head, he had no desire to remain in this position, to endure the pain of more lashings. His hands were tied above his head so that he hung down from the beam, his feet free of restraints. Napoleon was not tied up at all, merely stationed between two men whose sense of security made them vulnerable.
"Now Napoleon!" Illya hoisted himself up onto the beam at the same time Napoleon struck down the two guards, knocking them senseless so quickly that Lambert had not time to call for reinforcements. In mere seconds the scene was reversed, with Napoleon holding Lambert securely as both men watched Illya free himself and jump down onto the floor.
"What? How…? Where did they find you Kuryakin, in a circus?" If the circumstances hadn't been so perilous only minutes before the question would have garnered laughter.
"I believe the circus is yours and, to quote a Polish proverb… Nie mój cyrk, nie moje małpy.
After tying up Lambert and his men Napoleon found his communicator and called in the situation to Mr. Waverly. He assured his number one agent that help was on the way, within the hour agents from the London office would be on the scene.
Illya had found a bathroom and was trying to apply some first aid to his back. Napoleon found him and finished applying a salve to the angry flesh. Only two lashes. Not as bad as he had feared.
"Say, what was it you said to Lambert. I wasn't sure if he was going to laugh or cry. And you looked entirely too smug." Napoleon didn't speak Polish, but apparently Lambert did if his reaction was any indication.
Illya smiled at that. In truth he'd waited a good long while to be able to say that to some miscreant like Lambert; this had been perfect.
"It is a Polish saying… Nie mój cyrk, nie moje małpy." Napoleon smirked at that.
"Yeah, I got that part. What does it mean?"
For some reason Illya let out a big sigh, then smiled as he quoted it back to his partner.
"Not my circus, not my monkeys."
"You've been waiting to say that to someone haven't you."
Illya put his shirt back on and walked out of the bathroom, leaving his partner to smile at the image of THRUSH being run by a bunch of monkeys.