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section7mfuTitle: The Peaceful Meadows Affair, chapter five
Summary: The night wraps up and a new day dawns, bringing with it new problems.
By Lucky_Ladybug
Chapter Five
Illya was still both annoyed by his adventure with Mr. Ecks and disturbed over Everett Barkley’s vanishing act by the time he and Napoleon arrived home and they and Ecks and Wye parted ways.
“So,” Napoleon said as they entered the house, “I take it you’ve had better days.”
“I cannot stand that sarcastic delinquent,” Illya fumed. “Do you know what happened when I brought up the fact that he and Mr. Wye betrayed their organization in order to achieve power for themselves?” He barreled on, knowing it was a rhetorical question. “He said he owed them nothing and he had never given them anything willingly!”
Napoleon nodded, seemingly unaffected. “Aha.”
Illya frowned, turning to look at him. “‘Aha’ what? Napoleon, you’re not siding with him!” he exclaimed in disbelief.
Napoleon calmly advanced into the living room, taking note once again of how alike their furnishings were with everyone else’s. “No, I’m thinking of something you told me when you first discovered Mr. Ecks was still alive.”
“Oh? And what would that be?” Illya followed him, confused and curious.
“You said that you saw Mr. Ecks as a dark mirror of yourself.” Napoleon slowly and deliberately turned to face his partner and friend, who was clearly baffled.
“Yes, but what has that to do with this?” Illya retorted.
“In the land of your origin, did you always give them ‘everything willingly’?”
Illya immediately spun away, marching past Napoleon towards his room. “That is entirely different.”
“How?” Napoleon countered. He stayed where he was, one hand over the other, watching Illya’s stormy journey.
Illya paused at the doorway to his room. “Because I had no choice. As a child I was placed into programs that I did not want, but had no say about.” He gripped the doorframe. “But no one is pushed into joining an extremist organization against their will!”
“Maybe he was just like you.” Now Napoleon started to walk down the hall towards Illya. “Maybe he ended up in that organization as a child and couldn’t see any way to get out.”
Surprised, Illya slowly turned back, still keeping one hand on the doorframe to lean on. His anger and frustration cooling, something came to his mind that he hadn’t thought of before. “I remember,” he said. “Albert Sully said something about there being children in the organization, mostly due to their parents being members.”
“And if the parents died, the children had nowhere else to go,” Napoleon nodded. “They certainly weren’t allowed to leave. Even at that young age, they knew too much. And in many cases, the organization had high hopes for their future as agents or scientists or whatever their station in life was to be.”
Frustrated at himself now, Illya hit the doorframe with his hand. “I didn’t even stop to think that perhaps Mr. Ecks fell into that category! I suppose he could have meant something like that.”
“You could always ask him, I guess. But he might not tell you.” Napoleon started to move past him into the room.
“What are you doing?” Illya demanded, distracted from all thoughts about snarky British spies. “Your room is next-door, Napoleon.”
“But it’s your room that has that pesky picture.” Napoleon climbed onto Illya’s bed and stared at the picture up close. When he knelt, he was at perfect eye-level with it. “Why this picture? What’s so special about it?”
“Probably nothing,” Illya said. “Everything else is the same as well.”
“I know, but since they could have chosen any picture in the world to place in every house, why this one?” Napoleon scrutinized the mysterious beaconing stranger, the woman watching him, and the scenery surrounding them both.
“I doubt they had any particular reason, other than perhaps it’s the favorite picture of the one in charge,” Illya said. “Now please, Napoleon, I am very tired. And I haven’t forgotten your promise that we will go shopping in the morning so that I can make dinner tomorrow night.”
“Maybe we should keep taking our meals at the Restaurant of Peace,” Napoleon said, backing off of the bed. “And I swear I’m not saying that just to get out of tasting a meal prepared by you. It might be best for us to associate with the people here as much as possible, including at the restaurant. We don’t have any clear idea on what’s going on or if the Council is working for someone like THRUSH in secret.”
Illya considered that. “I have to admit, that makes sense,” he said, somewhat grudgingly.
“But we will go shopping,” Napoleon added. “That would be a way to associate with people too. And I imagine that sooner or later you’ll get around to making breakfast or dinner or something like that.”
“And you will eat it?” Illya asked pointedly.
“I will eat it,” Napoleon answered.
“Thank you. Now, will you kindly get out of here so I may go to bed?” Illya started to pull off his black turtleneck shirt.
“Of course.” Napoleon turned, leaving the room and going to his own.
Illya was surely grateful that his room didn’t look out on the house next-door, he decided, catching sight of Mr. Ecks’ silhouette on the curtains. After a moment, Mr. Wye joined him and they seemed to be engaging in conversation.
Napoleon sighed to himself as he loosened his tie. He really did sort of wish that Ecks hadn’t found their little bug. He couldn’t deny that he really would like to know what they were talking about.
****
“This is becoming more insufferable all the time,” Ecks growled, folding his arms.
“Kuryakin is probably thinking that exact same thing,” Wye chortled. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Well, naturally he would. I’ve been very obnoxious with him.” Ecks’ eyes flashed. “But then he had to bring up the organization and my decision to betray them. I don’t like that.”
“I know you don’t, but it’s understandable that Kuryakin would be thinking about that, isn’t it?” Wye wandered over to inspect the painting over Ecks’ bed.
“Yes,” Ecks admitted with a scowl. “But I don’t want to talk about it with him. It’s not like it would mean anything to him anyway.”
“You could be wrong about that,” Wye replied. “He might be able to understand on some level, being from Russia and all.”
“I guess that’s possible. But not probable! He’d have some reason to think that our situations were still different.” Ecks came closer. “Hey, are you figuring anything out about that thing?”
“Nope. And there’s probably nothin’ to figure out. But on the other hand, maybe Solo has it right about it not bein’ the type of picture that Council would find good art. It does seem kind of out of place, don’t it?” Wye leaned back, giving it a thoughtful look.
“I suppose. But maybe there’s some sinister meaning behind it,” Ecks suggested. “So the stranger seems benevolent. What if he isn’t?”
“And he’s beaconing to lead the bird into danger, eh?” Wye smirked. “I suppose that might be the way of it. They’re sick-minded enough. Well, let’s get to bed, shall we? Maybe we’ll learn more in the morning, what with two people gone at once.”
Ecks wasn’t hopeful. “They’ll probably just be as clammed up as they were before,” he objected, beginning to undo his trenchcoat.
“Well, maybe we’ll notice more fear from them. Something! We’ll see.” Wye turned to go. “Goodnight then, Duck.”
“Goodnight.” Ecks had long ago accepted Wye’s affectionate nickname for him, even though at first he had definitely not liked it. By now, he would probably miss it if Wye stopped using it.
He continued undressing, pausing when he removed his shirt and the scar across his abdomen was visible. Sometimes he still had nightmares about that time. Not the actual act of being wounded so much, but what had come after. He was still quite sure that he had traveled out of his body for at least a few minutes. He knew he had seen Wye bending over him after returning from chasing the U.N.C.L.E. agents, knew he had heard that blasted debating club button clattering to the ground and seen it bounce under the bench.
He didn’t want to think about that, though.
He climbed out of his trousers a bit angrily, tossing them on a chair and going for his pajamas. He would be glad when this assignment was over and they could go their separate ways from U.N.C.L.E. again.
If they really could. Maybe in the end, he would foul up and cause both he and Wye to become part of the missing. And if the missing really were being killed, well then, there wouldn’t be much hope for the two of them.
Sighing, he shuffled into the connecting bathroom to wash up for bed.
****
Morning dawned with a beautiful sunrise coming through the clouds. But even though Napoleon wasn’t superstitious, he couldn’t help finding the blood-red color a bit ominous. He was on high alert as he and Illya readied themselves for the day.
“There is no food in the house,” Illya said flatly. “And I trust we will be taking breakfast at the restaurant?”
“Yes, and then going shopping right after,” Napoleon promised.
“Good,” Illya grunted.
The Restaurant of Peace did not seem changed from what it had been the previous night. The patrons looked over menus, talked, and ate, all while seeming completely unconcerned about the fact that two more of their number were gone.
Well, Napoleon thought, perhaps they just didn’t know yet.
“Oh, hello!” Marietta called, weaving her way over to them.
On the other hand, Napoleon remembered, she was on the Council and had even turned Clarice in, despite her reluctance. It was hard to believe that she genuinely had no idea what became of the disappearing people. After all, wouldn’t everyone on the Council be in on it? What seemed more believable was the idea that she was aware of whatever happened and it didn’t deter her. It certainly didn’t seem to be bothering her today.
“Hello,” Napoleon smiled. “You seem to be in a good mood today.”
“It’s a beautiful day!” she chirped.
“No remorse for turning Clarice in last night?” Napoleon asked.
“Oh.” Marietta did look uncomfortable. “Well, it had to be done,” she said, averting her gaze.
“So she was told to move on?” Napoleon persisted, remembering what Marietta had said last night.
“Of course,” Marietta said. “They took care of that right after the meeting. They always do.”
Illya spoke up. “Since you refer to them as ‘they’, are we to assume that you never go along on these little missions?”
“I don’t,” Marietta nodded. “We have different functions. Mine is to watch for anything that goes against the rules. Naturally, everyone has that same charge, but it’s specifically what I do on the Council.”
“Did you choose that or was it chosen for you?” Napoleon wondered.
“It was chosen for me.” Marietta looked guilty and then alarmed. “But don’t think I don’t appreciate whatever work I can get. I know Harvey and the others think things over very carefully before assigning people to do things.”
“I’m sure,” Illya grunted.
“It sounds fascinating,” Napoleon said. “Would you care to have breakfast with us and tell us more about how the Council functions?”
“Oh . . .” Marietta glanced over her shoulder nervously. “I’d like to, but the Council members generally sit together.”
“Another rule?” Illya said, unable to hide his disdain.
“Just tradition,” Marietta said. “I’m sorry, but I’ll see you later.” Before either of them could reply, she hurried off.
“Well,” Napoleon remarked, “that was interesting.”
“I wonder if the Council orders all the members to sit together to avoid situations where one of them is pumped for information,” Illya said, his eyes narrowing.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised at all,” Napoleon said. He weaved his way around the tables until he found their booth from the day before.
“We’re going to sit here again?” Illya queried.
“Why not,” Napoleon shrugged. “It might be another unspoken rule that everyone always claims the same tables.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me either,” Illya said.
“And it looks like those two haven’t had the best morning,” Napoleon mused, looking to where Ecks and Wye were entering and looking troubled.
“I might be darkly satisfied by that if we didn’t have to worry and wonder that whatever they’re upset about might include us,” Illya said dryly.
Even with that as a possible concern, neither of them were expecting the two former enemy agents to sit down at their booth. “I trust this isn’t a social call?” Napoleon said with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“You trust right,” Wye said gruffly. “We got a note slipped under our front door this morning. We don’t like the looks of it.”
Ecks dug into his coat pocket and pulled it out. Hiding it inside a menu, he passed it to Illya, who read it silently before passing it on to Napoleon.
I know what you were doing last night.
You’d better mind your P’s and Q’s if you
don’t want your fate to be just like Everett’s
and Clarice’s. You might want to pass the word
along to your neighbors, too.
“That’s pleasant,” Napoleon commented as he finished. “And you don’t have any idea who the author might be?”
Wye quietly slipped the note out of the menu and into his coat pocket. “Not in the slightest,” he grunted. “Except for one thing. I know it’s a common expression and probably doesn’t mean anything, but talkin’ about P’s and Q’s puts us in mind of our old organization.”
“All the elite spies had alphabet codenames,” Ecks said. “I don’t remember any Agent Pea, but there was an Agent Cue.”
“And you think Cue might be here?” Napoleon frowned.
“It’s possible anyway,” Wye said. “And there was a Mr. Pea, a little before Ecks’ time. He was supposed to be dead, but well, you can see how that isn’t always the case.”
“So what would either of those people be doing here now?” Illya demanded.
“Just looking for peace and quiet, perhaps,” Wye shrugged.
“Or looking to assassinate us after what happened in London,” Ecks added.
“Most of your organization is either in prison or dead,” Illya said. “I’ll have to contact Mr. Waverly to find out if Pea or Cue escaped capture.”
“I’m surprised you’d even share this information with us,” Napoleon commented.
Wye started to rise from the table. “Only because you two are included in the warning, old chap. It wouldn’t have anything to do with you otherwise.”
“No,” Napoleon agreed, “I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Ecks nodded in agreement, getting up as well. “But regardless, we wouldn’t have had to have told you.”
“I know. A Thank You is in order,” Illya said, to which Ecks dismissively waved a hand.
“Find out about those agents and you’ll be doing us a favor as well as you,” he said.
“Fair enough,” Napoleon nodded. “Be careful in the meantime.”
“So should you,” Wye replied. With that, he and Ecks moved to the next booth down, leaving Napoleon and Illya to ponder on what they had just been told.
Summary: The night wraps up and a new day dawns, bringing with it new problems.
Chapter Five
Illya was still both annoyed by his adventure with Mr. Ecks and disturbed over Everett Barkley’s vanishing act by the time he and Napoleon arrived home and they and Ecks and Wye parted ways.
“So,” Napoleon said as they entered the house, “I take it you’ve had better days.”
“I cannot stand that sarcastic delinquent,” Illya fumed. “Do you know what happened when I brought up the fact that he and Mr. Wye betrayed their organization in order to achieve power for themselves?” He barreled on, knowing it was a rhetorical question. “He said he owed them nothing and he had never given them anything willingly!”
Napoleon nodded, seemingly unaffected. “Aha.”
Illya frowned, turning to look at him. “‘Aha’ what? Napoleon, you’re not siding with him!” he exclaimed in disbelief.
Napoleon calmly advanced into the living room, taking note once again of how alike their furnishings were with everyone else’s. “No, I’m thinking of something you told me when you first discovered Mr. Ecks was still alive.”
“Oh? And what would that be?” Illya followed him, confused and curious.
“You said that you saw Mr. Ecks as a dark mirror of yourself.” Napoleon slowly and deliberately turned to face his partner and friend, who was clearly baffled.
“Yes, but what has that to do with this?” Illya retorted.
“In the land of your origin, did you always give them ‘everything willingly’?”
Illya immediately spun away, marching past Napoleon towards his room. “That is entirely different.”
“How?” Napoleon countered. He stayed where he was, one hand over the other, watching Illya’s stormy journey.
Illya paused at the doorway to his room. “Because I had no choice. As a child I was placed into programs that I did not want, but had no say about.” He gripped the doorframe. “But no one is pushed into joining an extremist organization against their will!”
“Maybe he was just like you.” Now Napoleon started to walk down the hall towards Illya. “Maybe he ended up in that organization as a child and couldn’t see any way to get out.”
Surprised, Illya slowly turned back, still keeping one hand on the doorframe to lean on. His anger and frustration cooling, something came to his mind that he hadn’t thought of before. “I remember,” he said. “Albert Sully said something about there being children in the organization, mostly due to their parents being members.”
“And if the parents died, the children had nowhere else to go,” Napoleon nodded. “They certainly weren’t allowed to leave. Even at that young age, they knew too much. And in many cases, the organization had high hopes for their future as agents or scientists or whatever their station in life was to be.”
Frustrated at himself now, Illya hit the doorframe with his hand. “I didn’t even stop to think that perhaps Mr. Ecks fell into that category! I suppose he could have meant something like that.”
“You could always ask him, I guess. But he might not tell you.” Napoleon started to move past him into the room.
“What are you doing?” Illya demanded, distracted from all thoughts about snarky British spies. “Your room is next-door, Napoleon.”
“But it’s your room that has that pesky picture.” Napoleon climbed onto Illya’s bed and stared at the picture up close. When he knelt, he was at perfect eye-level with it. “Why this picture? What’s so special about it?”
“Probably nothing,” Illya said. “Everything else is the same as well.”
“I know, but since they could have chosen any picture in the world to place in every house, why this one?” Napoleon scrutinized the mysterious beaconing stranger, the woman watching him, and the scenery surrounding them both.
“I doubt they had any particular reason, other than perhaps it’s the favorite picture of the one in charge,” Illya said. “Now please, Napoleon, I am very tired. And I haven’t forgotten your promise that we will go shopping in the morning so that I can make dinner tomorrow night.”
“Maybe we should keep taking our meals at the Restaurant of Peace,” Napoleon said, backing off of the bed. “And I swear I’m not saying that just to get out of tasting a meal prepared by you. It might be best for us to associate with the people here as much as possible, including at the restaurant. We don’t have any clear idea on what’s going on or if the Council is working for someone like THRUSH in secret.”
Illya considered that. “I have to admit, that makes sense,” he said, somewhat grudgingly.
“But we will go shopping,” Napoleon added. “That would be a way to associate with people too. And I imagine that sooner or later you’ll get around to making breakfast or dinner or something like that.”
“And you will eat it?” Illya asked pointedly.
“I will eat it,” Napoleon answered.
“Thank you. Now, will you kindly get out of here so I may go to bed?” Illya started to pull off his black turtleneck shirt.
“Of course.” Napoleon turned, leaving the room and going to his own.
Illya was surely grateful that his room didn’t look out on the house next-door, he decided, catching sight of Mr. Ecks’ silhouette on the curtains. After a moment, Mr. Wye joined him and they seemed to be engaging in conversation.
Napoleon sighed to himself as he loosened his tie. He really did sort of wish that Ecks hadn’t found their little bug. He couldn’t deny that he really would like to know what they were talking about.
“This is becoming more insufferable all the time,” Ecks growled, folding his arms.
“Kuryakin is probably thinking that exact same thing,” Wye chortled. “You know that, don’t you?”
“Well, naturally he would. I’ve been very obnoxious with him.” Ecks’ eyes flashed. “But then he had to bring up the organization and my decision to betray them. I don’t like that.”
“I know you don’t, but it’s understandable that Kuryakin would be thinking about that, isn’t it?” Wye wandered over to inspect the painting over Ecks’ bed.
“Yes,” Ecks admitted with a scowl. “But I don’t want to talk about it with him. It’s not like it would mean anything to him anyway.”
“You could be wrong about that,” Wye replied. “He might be able to understand on some level, being from Russia and all.”
“I guess that’s possible. But not probable! He’d have some reason to think that our situations were still different.” Ecks came closer. “Hey, are you figuring anything out about that thing?”
“Nope. And there’s probably nothin’ to figure out. But on the other hand, maybe Solo has it right about it not bein’ the type of picture that Council would find good art. It does seem kind of out of place, don’t it?” Wye leaned back, giving it a thoughtful look.
“I suppose. But maybe there’s some sinister meaning behind it,” Ecks suggested. “So the stranger seems benevolent. What if he isn’t?”
“And he’s beaconing to lead the bird into danger, eh?” Wye smirked. “I suppose that might be the way of it. They’re sick-minded enough. Well, let’s get to bed, shall we? Maybe we’ll learn more in the morning, what with two people gone at once.”
Ecks wasn’t hopeful. “They’ll probably just be as clammed up as they were before,” he objected, beginning to undo his trenchcoat.
“Well, maybe we’ll notice more fear from them. Something! We’ll see.” Wye turned to go. “Goodnight then, Duck.”
“Goodnight.” Ecks had long ago accepted Wye’s affectionate nickname for him, even though at first he had definitely not liked it. By now, he would probably miss it if Wye stopped using it.
He continued undressing, pausing when he removed his shirt and the scar across his abdomen was visible. Sometimes he still had nightmares about that time. Not the actual act of being wounded so much, but what had come after. He was still quite sure that he had traveled out of his body for at least a few minutes. He knew he had seen Wye bending over him after returning from chasing the U.N.C.L.E. agents, knew he had heard that blasted debating club button clattering to the ground and seen it bounce under the bench.
He didn’t want to think about that, though.
He climbed out of his trousers a bit angrily, tossing them on a chair and going for his pajamas. He would be glad when this assignment was over and they could go their separate ways from U.N.C.L.E. again.
If they really could. Maybe in the end, he would foul up and cause both he and Wye to become part of the missing. And if the missing really were being killed, well then, there wouldn’t be much hope for the two of them.
Sighing, he shuffled into the connecting bathroom to wash up for bed.
Morning dawned with a beautiful sunrise coming through the clouds. But even though Napoleon wasn’t superstitious, he couldn’t help finding the blood-red color a bit ominous. He was on high alert as he and Illya readied themselves for the day.
“There is no food in the house,” Illya said flatly. “And I trust we will be taking breakfast at the restaurant?”
“Yes, and then going shopping right after,” Napoleon promised.
“Good,” Illya grunted.
The Restaurant of Peace did not seem changed from what it had been the previous night. The patrons looked over menus, talked, and ate, all while seeming completely unconcerned about the fact that two more of their number were gone.
Well, Napoleon thought, perhaps they just didn’t know yet.
“Oh, hello!” Marietta called, weaving her way over to them.
On the other hand, Napoleon remembered, she was on the Council and had even turned Clarice in, despite her reluctance. It was hard to believe that she genuinely had no idea what became of the disappearing people. After all, wouldn’t everyone on the Council be in on it? What seemed more believable was the idea that she was aware of whatever happened and it didn’t deter her. It certainly didn’t seem to be bothering her today.
“Hello,” Napoleon smiled. “You seem to be in a good mood today.”
“It’s a beautiful day!” she chirped.
“No remorse for turning Clarice in last night?” Napoleon asked.
“Oh.” Marietta did look uncomfortable. “Well, it had to be done,” she said, averting her gaze.
“So she was told to move on?” Napoleon persisted, remembering what Marietta had said last night.
“Of course,” Marietta said. “They took care of that right after the meeting. They always do.”
Illya spoke up. “Since you refer to them as ‘they’, are we to assume that you never go along on these little missions?”
“I don’t,” Marietta nodded. “We have different functions. Mine is to watch for anything that goes against the rules. Naturally, everyone has that same charge, but it’s specifically what I do on the Council.”
“Did you choose that or was it chosen for you?” Napoleon wondered.
“It was chosen for me.” Marietta looked guilty and then alarmed. “But don’t think I don’t appreciate whatever work I can get. I know Harvey and the others think things over very carefully before assigning people to do things.”
“I’m sure,” Illya grunted.
“It sounds fascinating,” Napoleon said. “Would you care to have breakfast with us and tell us more about how the Council functions?”
“Oh . . .” Marietta glanced over her shoulder nervously. “I’d like to, but the Council members generally sit together.”
“Another rule?” Illya said, unable to hide his disdain.
“Just tradition,” Marietta said. “I’m sorry, but I’ll see you later.” Before either of them could reply, she hurried off.
“Well,” Napoleon remarked, “that was interesting.”
“I wonder if the Council orders all the members to sit together to avoid situations where one of them is pumped for information,” Illya said, his eyes narrowing.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised at all,” Napoleon said. He weaved his way around the tables until he found their booth from the day before.
“We’re going to sit here again?” Illya queried.
“Why not,” Napoleon shrugged. “It might be another unspoken rule that everyone always claims the same tables.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me either,” Illya said.
“And it looks like those two haven’t had the best morning,” Napoleon mused, looking to where Ecks and Wye were entering and looking troubled.
“I might be darkly satisfied by that if we didn’t have to worry and wonder that whatever they’re upset about might include us,” Illya said dryly.
Even with that as a possible concern, neither of them were expecting the two former enemy agents to sit down at their booth. “I trust this isn’t a social call?” Napoleon said with a slightly raised eyebrow.
“You trust right,” Wye said gruffly. “We got a note slipped under our front door this morning. We don’t like the looks of it.”
Ecks dug into his coat pocket and pulled it out. Hiding it inside a menu, he passed it to Illya, who read it silently before passing it on to Napoleon.
You’d better mind your P’s and Q’s if you
don’t want your fate to be just like Everett’s
and Clarice’s. You might want to pass the word
along to your neighbors, too.
“That’s pleasant,” Napoleon commented as he finished. “And you don’t have any idea who the author might be?”
Wye quietly slipped the note out of the menu and into his coat pocket. “Not in the slightest,” he grunted. “Except for one thing. I know it’s a common expression and probably doesn’t mean anything, but talkin’ about P’s and Q’s puts us in mind of our old organization.”
“All the elite spies had alphabet codenames,” Ecks said. “I don’t remember any Agent Pea, but there was an Agent Cue.”
“And you think Cue might be here?” Napoleon frowned.
“It’s possible anyway,” Wye said. “And there was a Mr. Pea, a little before Ecks’ time. He was supposed to be dead, but well, you can see how that isn’t always the case.”
“So what would either of those people be doing here now?” Illya demanded.
“Just looking for peace and quiet, perhaps,” Wye shrugged.
“Or looking to assassinate us after what happened in London,” Ecks added.
“Most of your organization is either in prison or dead,” Illya said. “I’ll have to contact Mr. Waverly to find out if Pea or Cue escaped capture.”
“I’m surprised you’d even share this information with us,” Napoleon commented.
Wye started to rise from the table. “Only because you two are included in the warning, old chap. It wouldn’t have anything to do with you otherwise.”
“No,” Napoleon agreed, “I suppose it wouldn’t.”
Ecks nodded in agreement, getting up as well. “But regardless, we wouldn’t have had to have told you.”
“I know. A Thank You is in order,” Illya said, to which Ecks dismissively waved a hand.
“Find out about those agents and you’ll be doing us a favor as well as you,” he said.
“Fair enough,” Napoleon nodded. “Be careful in the meantime.”
“So should you,” Wye replied. With that, he and Ecks moved to the next booth down, leaving Napoleon and Illya to ponder on what they had just been told.
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Date: 2015-06-28 08:57 am (UTC)