Jim Phelps walked along a commonly traveled thoroughfare in a relaxing resort frequented by families and couples. He is wearing a black-and-white plaid sport coat over a maroon-colored turtleneck shirt.

As he approaches the previously agreed-upon place wherein to get the details of this next I.M.F. mission, a quaint little family-oriented restaurant, called "The Last Stop", Jim stops to look around, then enters the establishment.

Upon walking through the doors, which automatically close behind him, Jim Phelps steps up to a somewhat grungy man bussing tables of their left-behind dishes, silverware, and glasses.

"I hear this is a good place to eat," Jim says to the man, who then reacts with a bit of caution before he answers the two-pronged verbal code.

"Yes, it is. You should try the porterhouse, its our best cut of steak."

Jim nods in further confirmation, at which time the table busser leads him into the kitchen area. There is a moment's hesitation on Jim's part, just before actually entering through the swinging doors. Just to make certain he was not being followed by potential enemy agents, or even observed entering the kitchen area beyond.

Satisfied he was not, in fact, being observed by the dozens of diners sitting at various tables spread throughout the eating area of said restaurant...

"It's in here," said the table busser, as he gestured with one elbow, due to the fact he was carrying a deep, plastic tray of dirty dishes, silverware, and glasses, to a spot just off the kitchen area. "Good luck, Jim."

Jim gives a silent nod to the table busser, then proceeds to step into an area half-hidden from view, whereupon he retrieved a small reel-to-reel tape player, and a large packet of photographs.

After switching on the small reel-to-reel so it would begin playing, Jim pulled the photos from its large envelope. And listened intently to what the pre-recorded voice, a voice he had heard countless times during the beginning of several other missions, had to say about said photos.

"Good morning, Mr. Phelps," the deep voice commenced, even as the first of several photographs was being observed by this head of I.M.F. activities, both at home and abroad. "This is the head of a sister espionage group, called the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, or U.N.C.L.E. His name is Alexander Waverly, Section One, Number One. Our Intel has intercepted an agent of T.H.R.U.S.H., standing for Technological Hiearchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity. An enemy of not only U.N.C.L.E., but the entire free world, who has revealed, under agressive interrogation, that Mr. Waverly would be killed by a double-agent with an U.N.C.L.E. identity and clearance. You will establish a relationship with these two U.N.C.L.E. agents, Illya Kuryakin, Section Two, Number Two, and Napoleon Solo, Section Two, Number Eleven, as they are the go-to people for the majority of high profile cases, involving T.H.R.U.S.H. almost exclusively. Once contact has been made, you will then bring the full strength of the Impossible Missions Force to bear, both inside and outside of the secret New York headquarters of U.N.C.L.E., to both save Alexander Waverly and eliminate the T.H.R.U.S.H. operative or operatives, with extreme prejudice. As always, should your team be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions. This tape will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck, Jim."

No sooner does Jim Phelps switch off the small reel-to-reel, than, exactly five seconds later, an audible hiss could be heard as a thick cloud of acidic smoke arose from said reel-to-reel tape to make it impossible for anyone else to listen to the particulars of this mission.

Once back in his rented, by the black ops arm of the United States government, opulent apartment, where Jim laid down, upon the coffee table before his seated-on-the-plush sofa position, several photographs, with typed-upon-the bottom names and quick descriptions of who they are, and what they do. Retrieved from a leather-bound dossier stamped with the letters I.M.F. upon its almost smooth face.

As Jim goes through them, selecting some, whilst passing on several others...

Bernard "Barney" Collier, a true mechanical and electronics genius, who owns Collier Electronics.

William "Willy" Armitage, a world record-holding weight lifter.

Cinnamin Carter, a top fashion model and actress.

And last, but most certainly not least...

Rollin Hand, an actor, makeup artist, escape artist, magician, and master of disguise.

Then he closes said leather-bound dossier, and sat it, along with a wealth of other photographs, with names, etc., upon the other side of the coffee table.

Jim Phelps was now ready to gather together the I.M. Force individuals who will make up the team, and put together a plan of action.