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section7mfuTitle: The Peaceful Meadows Affair, chapter 3
Summary: The spies' Cold War continues. And the Homeowners' Council is not as bright and happy as it might have appeared to be on the surface....
By Lucky_Ladybug
Chapter Three
Once they were out of the restaurant, Wye turned to Ecks with a frown. “Alright, I didn’t want to berate you in there in front of them, but what in the ruddy world were you doing?!” he exclaimed. “How did you crash into Kuryakin?”
Ecks scowled. “I was looking all over for him, but I didn’t see him. And then suddenly he was right in front of me.” He shoved his hands in his trenchcoat pockets. “That really was idiotic, on both our parts.”
“Well, at least it wasn’t entirely your fault, but I don’t want to see that happening again,” Wye said. “You know better than that, Ecks! Even when you were stalking Kuryakin, you did better than you did today. You really kept him in sight.”
“I know, I know,” Ecks growled with a nod. “Maybe I’m so nervous about fouling up that I’m causing it to happen.”
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Wye retorted. “You were always one of the best. You still are.”
“You haven’t even seen me in action for ages until this,” Ecks objected. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because a good spy don’t lose what makes him good,” Wye insisted. “You just need a little remindin’, maybe. Anyway, I know I haven’t lost it as a teacher, either, and since I trained you properly, there’s no way you’ll fail in the end.”
Ecks had to smile a bit. Wye had always believed in him. Of course, he might try to cover it up by seemingly making it about himself, but Ecks knew what he really meant. And Wye knew that he knew.
“Well, one thing I can tell you right now is that Solo’s watching us,” he growled. “And even though Kuryakin seems to be completely involved in eating, I’ll bet anything that he is as well.”
“Naturally he is. He’s not gonna let us out of his sight again, if he can help it,” Wye hmphed.
Suddenly thinking of something, Ecks started running his hands over his coat and pulling it open to check for tracking devices. Finding nothing, he also examined the band of his hat. “Aha!” He slid out what seemed to be an ordinary straight pin. “I didn’t put this here.”
“So Kuryakin had enough presence of mind to slip that to you, eh?” Wye studied it for a moment. “Is that all that’s there?”
“No.” Ecks also removed a small, round disc. “He’s heard everything we’ve said since we walked outside.” Momentarily placing the disc in his pocket, he strolled over to the window where the U.N.C.L.E. agents were eating. Lightly tapping on the glass, he waited until Illya looked up. Then, with a smirk, he bent the pin and set it on the windowsill.
“And what are you goin’ to do with the bug?” Wye asked.
“I’d like to throw it on the ground and step on it, but if we were seen, I’m guessing we’d suffer a harsh penalty for littering,” Ecks replied. Shooting another sneer at Illya, he turned away and walked back to Wye. “I have another idea instead.” Whistling casually, he took the listening device out of his pocket and plunked it into a garbage can near them. Through the window, Napoleon visibly winced.
Wye cackled. “Oh, you are a sly devil.”
Ecks grinned. “I know.” When they were definitely out of hearing range, he added in a lower tone, “And I didn’t make a complete waste out of the crash, either. I left one of our devices on Kuryakin.”
Wye smirked. “Of course, he’d probably think of that and check himself over to make sure.”
“Most likely. But he might not find it for a while. It looks just like a real button.” Ecks smirked wickedly.
“Well, if he don’t find it right away, it’ll be interesting to hear where we fall on their list of suspects,” Wye said.
“And it will also be interesting to attend that meeting tonight,” Ecks said. “Maybe we’ll hear something worthwhile.”
Wye nodded. “If nothing else, it might be a good opening for us to sort of ask some of the other residents about the disappearing people, casual-like. Since we’ve been here, there hasn’t been one mention of any of them.”
Ecks’ expression darkened. “Either they’ve all been threatened into silence where the missing are concerned or they just don’t care.”
“And I’m betting on the latter,” Wye said. “The people here seem too happy. You’d think they’d be at least a little worried, after the number of residents what vanished without a trace. For all they’d know, they could be next!”
“Unless they’re that confident that they won’t be breaking any of the rules,” Ecks mused.
“I don’t imagine that any of them would think they’d break any, including the ones who did. I’m sort of wondering if the Council just slips new ones in whenever they feel like it and then picks on someone to bust for not keeping them.”
“And I thought I was paranoid about this place.” Ecks looked concerned. “Unfortunately, that idea sounds plausible.”
“I know. Well, I’m sure we’ll learn something at the meeting.” Wye checked his watch. “We’ve got some time to kill. Let’s explore the rest of the business district and get a good feel for the layout of the place.”
Ecks nodded in approval. “That sounds good to me.”
****
Inside the restaurant, Napoleon was still cringing at what Ecks had done. “The next time you get the idea to place a bug on another spy, Illya, don’t.” He stared at the garbage can like a hawk. “Mr. Waverly is not going to be pleased about this at all.”
“He told me to try to find out what they were up to,” Illya said in annoyance. “It might still be in working condition.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. It can’t be left in there. So . . .” Napoleon folded his arms on the table. “Which one of us is going to go out there and retrieve it?”
“Whom do you suggest?” Illya grunted, finding looking at his food very interesting.
“Well, it wasn’t my idea,” Napoleon remarked.
“Not to mention, I am not the one wearing the most expensive clothing,” Illya added.
Napoleon shrugged. “Those were your words, not mine.”
Illya let out an exaggerated sigh. “Very well. I will get it back. But it will have to be done very naturally. Especially since some of these people might have seen him throw it in.”
“Would you mind telling me how it’s possible to make reaching into a garbage can look natural?” Napoleon retorted.
“You will know when I do it,” Illya answered. “Let us pray it didn’t fall to the bottom.”
“Oh, I’m praying,” Napoleon said.
“But not as hard as you would if you were the one about to look for it,” Illya supplied.
“Again, your words,” said Napoleon. “I have to say, I don’t think Mr. Ecks has too much to worry about when it comes to whether or not he’s still got what it takes to be a spy.”
Illya scowled. “But we have something to worry about as long as we don’t know for whom he and Mr. Wye are working.” Finishing his food, he stood and stepped out of the booth.
“Which we’re not any closer to figuring out,” Napoleon said as he followed.
“Judging from what they said when they first got settled in the restaurant, we know they seem to be interested in the disappearing people,” Illya said. “The question is, why? Who would be interested in that information aside from U.N.C.L.E.?”
“I suppose that depends on who’s behind it and why,” Napoleon answered. As they passed the other customers, who were watching them closely, he gave a big smile and a wave. “We’ll see you tonight, fine residents of Peaceful Meadows!”
Illya went on ahead. Outside, he purchased a newspaper from a stand. He stood, appearing to read it for a moment. When Napoleon came out, Illya said in a low tone, “Take the newspaper from me, read it briefly, and throw it away.”
Nodding, Napoleon did as instructed. “Bah, nothing very interesting happening in the world today,” he grunted, depositing the newspaper in the trashcan.
“What are you doing?” Illya exclaimed indignantly. “I wasn’t done with that yet!”
“Oh, you weren’t?” Napoleon pretended to look dismayed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were giving it to me because you were done.”
“I did not give it to you. You absconded with it, my friend!” Illya grumped, storming over to the garbage can. He reached inside, grabbing for the newspaper. At the same time, he spotted the disc not too far down and snatched it up too.
“You’re going to keep that?” Napoleon grimaced. “It really isn’t sanitary now.”
“Then you will buy me another,” Illya retorted, pocketing the disc but allowing the paper to fall back into the can. Having discovered a button he didn’t remember as being part of the outfit, he tossed that in too.
Frowning, Napoleon nevertheless did as requested. “Here you are,” he said grandly, holding the new newspaper out.
“Thank you,” Illya retorted haughtily.
Both waited to speak again until they reached the car. “Well,” Napoleon said as they drove away, “that was quite clever thinking. Only why did you make me buy another? Planting the bug was your mistake in the first place.”
“You opened the door, Napoleon, when you brought up the condition of the newspaper,” Illya replied. “Anyway, it occurred to me that perhaps we should read it more thoroughly, since it’s a paper solely serving this gated community.”
“I agree,” Napoleon nodded. “I hope we won’t get in trouble for throwing one away. For all we know, maybe they’re considered too important to be tossed.”
“It would be a fire hazard to keep them all,” Illya retorted, “and I can’t imagine they would subscribe to that type of disorder.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Napoleon consented.
“By the way,” Illya scowled, “you’re right—Mr. Ecks really doesn’t have to worry about his qualifications as a spy. He managed to plant a bug on me.” Glowering at the town streets, he added, “He must have been laughing himself silly hearing what we were doing to retrieve our bug.”
Napoleon had to admit he was amused. “Perhaps we both need to reevaluate our priorities on this case,” he said. “One of us should have thought to check for a bug.”
Illya looked ruffled. “I did check, but I still didn’t find it. It strongly resembled a button.”
“Well, that’s creative,” Napoleon said. “Perhaps we should suggest that design to Mr. Waverly.”
“At least,” Illya grumbled, “we had better not underestimate either Mr. Ecks or Mr. Wye again.”
****
The meeting of the Homeowners’ Council was ready to begin promptly at 8. Napoleon and Illya, and Ecks and Wye, all made certain to be present ahead of time. Illya made eye contact with Ecks and gave him a very stony look. Ecks just sneered at him in reply.
“Alright, everyone!” Harvey called, walking to the podium just as the clock turned 8. “You all know why we’re here; no explanations are necessary. But may I welcome our newest neighbors, who are sitting in tonight: Napoleon and Illya, and Allan and Luther!” Everyone clapped. “So, let’s get right down to business. Does anyone have any announcements of current events?”
“I do,” said Marietta, as she got to her feet. “The community social will take place here at the school on Thursday night at 7. It’s potluck, so everyone bring something to contribute to a delicious dinner!”
“Excellent,” Harvey said. “Anyone else?”
“Parent-Teacher Conference is next Monday,” said an older, gruff man that Napoleon and Illya didn’t recognize. “Also at 7.”
“Good, good,” Harvey nodded.
Several innocuous announcements later, Harvey sobered and the tone of the meeting abruptly changed. “Alright,” he said. “Now is the time when, well, we must do what has to be done for the good of Peaceful Meadows, as much as it pains us.” Illya tensed. “Does anyone have any infractions to report?”
Silence stretched for a brief moment before a young woman hesitantly stood. “Um, I saw some paint peeling from the siding of Everett Barkley’s house,” she said, clearly not wanting to tell on him but for some reason feeling compelled to do so anyway.
Harvey’s brow furrowed. “I see. This is a grave matter. We’ll have to speak with Everett about that tonight.”
Another silence. Finally Marietta stood, wringing her hands. “You know I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, Harvey,” she said, conflicted.
“Yes, I know, but anyone who isn’t respecting Peaceful Meadows or its residents must be made to see that such behavior won’t be tolerated here,” Harvey said soothingly. “What have you seen, Marietta?”
“Well . . .” She took a deep breath. “When I went to visit Clarice Peters yesterday, one of her porch steps squeaked.”
“Is this for real?” Illya hissed in disbelief.
“And to think you were the one who thought gated communities sounded like a good idea,” Napoleon shot back.
“Normal gated communities that ask only for reasonable order,” Illya returned. “This is nonsense!”
Harvey was making a notation on the blackboard. “So there are two friends who have unfortunately fallen along the wayside,” he said grimly. “I hope there aren’t others following suit.”
This time the silence persisted. Taking that to mean No, Harvey returned to the podium. “We will see to it that these matters are taken care of tonight,” he said. “Thank you all, and this ends tonight’s Homeowners’ Council.”
Napoleon leaned over to whisper to Illya. “Interesting, that Everett Barkley and Clarice Peters don’t seem to have been invited. I wonder if the Council already knew about the . . . infractions and they’re just putting on a show for us.”
Illya frowned, folding his arms. “It’s possible.”
Marietta weaved her way around the empty seats and over to the U.N.C.L.E. agents. “I hope you don’t think we’re unreasonable,” she said worriedly. “We only want order. Normally you wouldn’t be at this meeting, but Harvey likes to invite all the newcomers to at least one so they can get a better idea of how things are run here.”
“I see,” Napoleon said slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ecks and Wye coming over to hear the conversation. “And what happens to all the people who have . . . ‘fallen along the wayside’?”
“They’re asked to move on. That’s all,” Marietta insisted.
“They’re not even given a second chance?” Illya frowned.
Marietta looked trapped. “They’ve read the rules,” she said at last, lamely. “It’s their responsibility to obey.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know why none of the people who have disappeared have been heard from again on the outside, do you?” Wye spoke up, gripping the back of a chair.
Marietta jumped a mile and looked over at him. “Why, no,” she said in what seemed to be honest shock.
“Do you happen to know what sort of infraction Martin Jensen committed?” Ecks added. “We moved into his old house and couldn’t help wondering where he had gone.”
Fear came into Marietta’s eyes. “I can’t talk about that. No one talks about any of the residents who have been asked to leave. Excuse me.” With that she fled to the front of the room, helping several others set up chairs before departing altogether.
“Well,” said Napoleon, folding his arms, “that was interesting.”
“Who is Martin Jensen?” Illya demanded, looking to Ecks and Wye.
“Oh, well, you heard what the lady said, old chap,” Wye answered smoothly. “No one talks about people like him.” With a tip of his hat, he climbed off the chair and headed for the door. “See you around.”
“Don’t forget about the curfew,” Ecks added before following his friend.
Napoleon and Illya stared after them. “Curiouser and curiouser,” Napoleon mused.
Illya scowled. “That is not the term I had in mind.”
Summary: The spies' Cold War continues. And the Homeowners' Council is not as bright and happy as it might have appeared to be on the surface....
Chapter Three
Once they were out of the restaurant, Wye turned to Ecks with a frown. “Alright, I didn’t want to berate you in there in front of them, but what in the ruddy world were you doing?!” he exclaimed. “How did you crash into Kuryakin?”
Ecks scowled. “I was looking all over for him, but I didn’t see him. And then suddenly he was right in front of me.” He shoved his hands in his trenchcoat pockets. “That really was idiotic, on both our parts.”
“Well, at least it wasn’t entirely your fault, but I don’t want to see that happening again,” Wye said. “You know better than that, Ecks! Even when you were stalking Kuryakin, you did better than you did today. You really kept him in sight.”
“I know, I know,” Ecks growled with a nod. “Maybe I’m so nervous about fouling up that I’m causing it to happen.”
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Wye retorted. “You were always one of the best. You still are.”
“You haven’t even seen me in action for ages until this,” Ecks objected. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because a good spy don’t lose what makes him good,” Wye insisted. “You just need a little remindin’, maybe. Anyway, I know I haven’t lost it as a teacher, either, and since I trained you properly, there’s no way you’ll fail in the end.”
Ecks had to smile a bit. Wye had always believed in him. Of course, he might try to cover it up by seemingly making it about himself, but Ecks knew what he really meant. And Wye knew that he knew.
“Well, one thing I can tell you right now is that Solo’s watching us,” he growled. “And even though Kuryakin seems to be completely involved in eating, I’ll bet anything that he is as well.”
“Naturally he is. He’s not gonna let us out of his sight again, if he can help it,” Wye hmphed.
Suddenly thinking of something, Ecks started running his hands over his coat and pulling it open to check for tracking devices. Finding nothing, he also examined the band of his hat. “Aha!” He slid out what seemed to be an ordinary straight pin. “I didn’t put this here.”
“So Kuryakin had enough presence of mind to slip that to you, eh?” Wye studied it for a moment. “Is that all that’s there?”
“No.” Ecks also removed a small, round disc. “He’s heard everything we’ve said since we walked outside.” Momentarily placing the disc in his pocket, he strolled over to the window where the U.N.C.L.E. agents were eating. Lightly tapping on the glass, he waited until Illya looked up. Then, with a smirk, he bent the pin and set it on the windowsill.
“And what are you goin’ to do with the bug?” Wye asked.
“I’d like to throw it on the ground and step on it, but if we were seen, I’m guessing we’d suffer a harsh penalty for littering,” Ecks replied. Shooting another sneer at Illya, he turned away and walked back to Wye. “I have another idea instead.” Whistling casually, he took the listening device out of his pocket and plunked it into a garbage can near them. Through the window, Napoleon visibly winced.
Wye cackled. “Oh, you are a sly devil.”
Ecks grinned. “I know.” When they were definitely out of hearing range, he added in a lower tone, “And I didn’t make a complete waste out of the crash, either. I left one of our devices on Kuryakin.”
Wye smirked. “Of course, he’d probably think of that and check himself over to make sure.”
“Most likely. But he might not find it for a while. It looks just like a real button.” Ecks smirked wickedly.
“Well, if he don’t find it right away, it’ll be interesting to hear where we fall on their list of suspects,” Wye said.
“And it will also be interesting to attend that meeting tonight,” Ecks said. “Maybe we’ll hear something worthwhile.”
Wye nodded. “If nothing else, it might be a good opening for us to sort of ask some of the other residents about the disappearing people, casual-like. Since we’ve been here, there hasn’t been one mention of any of them.”
Ecks’ expression darkened. “Either they’ve all been threatened into silence where the missing are concerned or they just don’t care.”
“And I’m betting on the latter,” Wye said. “The people here seem too happy. You’d think they’d be at least a little worried, after the number of residents what vanished without a trace. For all they’d know, they could be next!”
“Unless they’re that confident that they won’t be breaking any of the rules,” Ecks mused.
“I don’t imagine that any of them would think they’d break any, including the ones who did. I’m sort of wondering if the Council just slips new ones in whenever they feel like it and then picks on someone to bust for not keeping them.”
“And I thought I was paranoid about this place.” Ecks looked concerned. “Unfortunately, that idea sounds plausible.”
“I know. Well, I’m sure we’ll learn something at the meeting.” Wye checked his watch. “We’ve got some time to kill. Let’s explore the rest of the business district and get a good feel for the layout of the place.”
Ecks nodded in approval. “That sounds good to me.”
Inside the restaurant, Napoleon was still cringing at what Ecks had done. “The next time you get the idea to place a bug on another spy, Illya, don’t.” He stared at the garbage can like a hawk. “Mr. Waverly is not going to be pleased about this at all.”
“He told me to try to find out what they were up to,” Illya said in annoyance. “It might still be in working condition.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. It can’t be left in there. So . . .” Napoleon folded his arms on the table. “Which one of us is going to go out there and retrieve it?”
“Whom do you suggest?” Illya grunted, finding looking at his food very interesting.
“Well, it wasn’t my idea,” Napoleon remarked.
“Not to mention, I am not the one wearing the most expensive clothing,” Illya added.
Napoleon shrugged. “Those were your words, not mine.”
Illya let out an exaggerated sigh. “Very well. I will get it back. But it will have to be done very naturally. Especially since some of these people might have seen him throw it in.”
“Would you mind telling me how it’s possible to make reaching into a garbage can look natural?” Napoleon retorted.
“You will know when I do it,” Illya answered. “Let us pray it didn’t fall to the bottom.”
“Oh, I’m praying,” Napoleon said.
“But not as hard as you would if you were the one about to look for it,” Illya supplied.
“Again, your words,” said Napoleon. “I have to say, I don’t think Mr. Ecks has too much to worry about when it comes to whether or not he’s still got what it takes to be a spy.”
Illya scowled. “But we have something to worry about as long as we don’t know for whom he and Mr. Wye are working.” Finishing his food, he stood and stepped out of the booth.
“Which we’re not any closer to figuring out,” Napoleon said as he followed.
“Judging from what they said when they first got settled in the restaurant, we know they seem to be interested in the disappearing people,” Illya said. “The question is, why? Who would be interested in that information aside from U.N.C.L.E.?”
“I suppose that depends on who’s behind it and why,” Napoleon answered. As they passed the other customers, who were watching them closely, he gave a big smile and a wave. “We’ll see you tonight, fine residents of Peaceful Meadows!”
Illya went on ahead. Outside, he purchased a newspaper from a stand. He stood, appearing to read it for a moment. When Napoleon came out, Illya said in a low tone, “Take the newspaper from me, read it briefly, and throw it away.”
Nodding, Napoleon did as instructed. “Bah, nothing very interesting happening in the world today,” he grunted, depositing the newspaper in the trashcan.
“What are you doing?” Illya exclaimed indignantly. “I wasn’t done with that yet!”
“Oh, you weren’t?” Napoleon pretended to look dismayed. “I’m sorry. I thought you were giving it to me because you were done.”
“I did not give it to you. You absconded with it, my friend!” Illya grumped, storming over to the garbage can. He reached inside, grabbing for the newspaper. At the same time, he spotted the disc not too far down and snatched it up too.
“You’re going to keep that?” Napoleon grimaced. “It really isn’t sanitary now.”
“Then you will buy me another,” Illya retorted, pocketing the disc but allowing the paper to fall back into the can. Having discovered a button he didn’t remember as being part of the outfit, he tossed that in too.
Frowning, Napoleon nevertheless did as requested. “Here you are,” he said grandly, holding the new newspaper out.
“Thank you,” Illya retorted haughtily.
Both waited to speak again until they reached the car. “Well,” Napoleon said as they drove away, “that was quite clever thinking. Only why did you make me buy another? Planting the bug was your mistake in the first place.”
“You opened the door, Napoleon, when you brought up the condition of the newspaper,” Illya replied. “Anyway, it occurred to me that perhaps we should read it more thoroughly, since it’s a paper solely serving this gated community.”
“I agree,” Napoleon nodded. “I hope we won’t get in trouble for throwing one away. For all we know, maybe they’re considered too important to be tossed.”
“It would be a fire hazard to keep them all,” Illya retorted, “and I can’t imagine they would subscribe to that type of disorder.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Napoleon consented.
“By the way,” Illya scowled, “you’re right—Mr. Ecks really doesn’t have to worry about his qualifications as a spy. He managed to plant a bug on me.” Glowering at the town streets, he added, “He must have been laughing himself silly hearing what we were doing to retrieve our bug.”
Napoleon had to admit he was amused. “Perhaps we both need to reevaluate our priorities on this case,” he said. “One of us should have thought to check for a bug.”
Illya looked ruffled. “I did check, but I still didn’t find it. It strongly resembled a button.”
“Well, that’s creative,” Napoleon said. “Perhaps we should suggest that design to Mr. Waverly.”
“At least,” Illya grumbled, “we had better not underestimate either Mr. Ecks or Mr. Wye again.”
The meeting of the Homeowners’ Council was ready to begin promptly at 8. Napoleon and Illya, and Ecks and Wye, all made certain to be present ahead of time. Illya made eye contact with Ecks and gave him a very stony look. Ecks just sneered at him in reply.
“Alright, everyone!” Harvey called, walking to the podium just as the clock turned 8. “You all know why we’re here; no explanations are necessary. But may I welcome our newest neighbors, who are sitting in tonight: Napoleon and Illya, and Allan and Luther!” Everyone clapped. “So, let’s get right down to business. Does anyone have any announcements of current events?”
“I do,” said Marietta, as she got to her feet. “The community social will take place here at the school on Thursday night at 7. It’s potluck, so everyone bring something to contribute to a delicious dinner!”
“Excellent,” Harvey said. “Anyone else?”
“Parent-Teacher Conference is next Monday,” said an older, gruff man that Napoleon and Illya didn’t recognize. “Also at 7.”
“Good, good,” Harvey nodded.
Several innocuous announcements later, Harvey sobered and the tone of the meeting abruptly changed. “Alright,” he said. “Now is the time when, well, we must do what has to be done for the good of Peaceful Meadows, as much as it pains us.” Illya tensed. “Does anyone have any infractions to report?”
Silence stretched for a brief moment before a young woman hesitantly stood. “Um, I saw some paint peeling from the siding of Everett Barkley’s house,” she said, clearly not wanting to tell on him but for some reason feeling compelled to do so anyway.
Harvey’s brow furrowed. “I see. This is a grave matter. We’ll have to speak with Everett about that tonight.”
Another silence. Finally Marietta stood, wringing her hands. “You know I don’t want to get anyone in trouble, Harvey,” she said, conflicted.
“Yes, I know, but anyone who isn’t respecting Peaceful Meadows or its residents must be made to see that such behavior won’t be tolerated here,” Harvey said soothingly. “What have you seen, Marietta?”
“Well . . .” She took a deep breath. “When I went to visit Clarice Peters yesterday, one of her porch steps squeaked.”
“Is this for real?” Illya hissed in disbelief.
“And to think you were the one who thought gated communities sounded like a good idea,” Napoleon shot back.
“Normal gated communities that ask only for reasonable order,” Illya returned. “This is nonsense!”
Harvey was making a notation on the blackboard. “So there are two friends who have unfortunately fallen along the wayside,” he said grimly. “I hope there aren’t others following suit.”
This time the silence persisted. Taking that to mean No, Harvey returned to the podium. “We will see to it that these matters are taken care of tonight,” he said. “Thank you all, and this ends tonight’s Homeowners’ Council.”
Napoleon leaned over to whisper to Illya. “Interesting, that Everett Barkley and Clarice Peters don’t seem to have been invited. I wonder if the Council already knew about the . . . infractions and they’re just putting on a show for us.”
Illya frowned, folding his arms. “It’s possible.”
Marietta weaved her way around the empty seats and over to the U.N.C.L.E. agents. “I hope you don’t think we’re unreasonable,” she said worriedly. “We only want order. Normally you wouldn’t be at this meeting, but Harvey likes to invite all the newcomers to at least one so they can get a better idea of how things are run here.”
“I see,” Napoleon said slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ecks and Wye coming over to hear the conversation. “And what happens to all the people who have . . . ‘fallen along the wayside’?”
“They’re asked to move on. That’s all,” Marietta insisted.
“They’re not even given a second chance?” Illya frowned.
Marietta looked trapped. “They’ve read the rules,” she said at last, lamely. “It’s their responsibility to obey.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know why none of the people who have disappeared have been heard from again on the outside, do you?” Wye spoke up, gripping the back of a chair.
Marietta jumped a mile and looked over at him. “Why, no,” she said in what seemed to be honest shock.
“Do you happen to know what sort of infraction Martin Jensen committed?” Ecks added. “We moved into his old house and couldn’t help wondering where he had gone.”
Fear came into Marietta’s eyes. “I can’t talk about that. No one talks about any of the residents who have been asked to leave. Excuse me.” With that she fled to the front of the room, helping several others set up chairs before departing altogether.
“Well,” said Napoleon, folding his arms, “that was interesting.”
“Who is Martin Jensen?” Illya demanded, looking to Ecks and Wye.
“Oh, well, you heard what the lady said, old chap,” Wye answered smoothly. “No one talks about people like him.” With a tip of his hat, he climbed off the chair and headed for the door. “See you around.”
“Don’t forget about the curfew,” Ecks added before following his friend.
Napoleon and Illya stared after them. “Curiouser and curiouser,” Napoleon mused.
Illya scowled. “That is not the term I had in mind.”
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