"Down the rabbit hole"~ for What's My Line?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: What’s my line?

Prompt: You’re late, again.

Author: mrua7

Title: “Down the rabbit hole”

Word Count: Approx. 1500

Napoleon sat behind the steering wheel of his silver convertible, waiting for the pedestrians to clear the crosswalk.

It was then he spotted the most gorgeous blonde he’d seen in a long time.  Her hair was done up in a not too tall beehive and she was dressed in an ungodly tight black mini-dress; something that seemed a bit out of place for eight in the morning...more like eight o’clock at night and a segue to an intimate evening.

He watched as she stumbled, snapping the heel off her pump, but the agent was out the door in a flash;  jumping into action and catching her before she fell.

“Oh my! Why thank you,” she smiled at him, batting her long eyelashes. It was clear she had a decidedly British accent.

“My pleasure. You look like you’re going to have a little trouble walking. Could I offer you a lift somewhere?”

“Gee I don’t know…”

“I’m not an axe murderer if that’s what you’re worried about.”His smile momentarily melted away any doubts she might have had about him.

“Well, if you don’t mind. I’m going to a little tailor shop and I’m late. I’m supposed to meet...wait, we haven’t been properly introduced. I should know the name of my knight in shining armor.”

“Forgive me, the name is Solo, Napoleon Solo and you are?” He offered her his hand.

“Oh, I’m Penelope Waverly and the tailor shop is called Del Floria’s. Are you familiar with it?”

Napoleon’s eyebrows raised at the question. “Intimately.”

“I’m supposed to meet my Uncle there. I haven’t seen him in years. I didn’t have time to change to something more appropriate, and I rushed into a little boutique to purchase a sensible jacket, but as you can see, forgot a pair of sensible shoes. Drat.”

“I think I can scare a pair up for you.”

Penelope looked at him strangely, thinking he might be that axe murderer after all.

“And how might you manage that? Are you a shoe salesman or are you just giving me a line? You some sort of masher?”

“Far from it my dear. As it so happens I work for your Uncle Alexander and was just on my way to ugh...meet him myself.”

“Well good Lord, isn’t it a small world,” she finally smiled again, feeling a bit more relieved.

As Penelope slipped into the passenger seat, Napoleon suddenly remembered something.“I’m sorry, we just have to make a quick detour to pick up my friend.”

Solo pulled out into traffic, though it took but a few minutes to reach his destination. Kuryakin was to meet him in front of their apartment building.

Napoleon made the final turn to his street and there he spotted Illya leaning against a lamp post.

“You are late...again,” the Russian grumbled as he climbed into the back seat of the car.

“Illya this is Miss Penelope Waverly, Mr. Waverly’s niece from…”

“London,” she filled in the blank.

“Penelope this is Illya Kuryakin, who also works for your Uncle.”

“How’d you do Mr. Kuryakin. This certainly is my lucky day. Napoleon saving me from a near disaster of a broken heel, and now meeting you. You’re no ace face, but you are cute, especially your hair.”*  She fluttered her lashes again, this time flirting with the blond.”

He was too annoyed at his partner’s repeated tardiness to address her obvious pop culture reference to him. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. Napoleon, we need to get going as we are late, as usual thanks to you.”

“Keep your shirt on, we have plenty of time tovar...Illya.”

“Illya that’s an unusual name is it Polish?”

“Yes how astute of you Miss Waverly, it is Polish. The family was from Krakow.” He lied so flawlessly that if Napoleon hadn’t known otherwise, he would have believed the man himself.

“How interesting. I just love to travel to foreign places don’t you Illya?”

“Not if can help it,” he buried his nose in his paper again, trying to avoid her flirtations much less having to make polite conversation, regardless of who she was.

Fifteen minutes later they pulled up curbside in front of Del Floria’s, with Napoleon hopping out of the car to open the door for Penelope.  Illya on the other hand got out, ignoring them both and not waiting; he trotted down the steps and into the shop.

“I don’t see Uncle Alex? I hope he didn’t forget? He’s getting up there in years I imagine. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him.”

“Oh your Uncle is as sharp as they come,” Napoleon grinned,”and I guarantee you he’s here, waiting for you to arrive.”

He held her by the elbow, helping her down the steps and once inside, Illya was no where to be seen.”

“Where’d your friend go? I don’t think he liked me very much.”

“Illya is a bit of an odd-duck shall we say, and the shy type.” Napoleon held up Penelope’s shoe, showing it to Del.” Do you think you can help the young lady with this? Size six from the look of it?”

“Five and a half,” she interjected.

“I stand corrected. Del?”

“Sure Mr. S, I can find something. Give me a couple of minutes. Del disappeared into the back room and soon after and emerged with a new pair of black heels that were exactly in her size.

“How did you do that?” Penelope blurted out.” Aren’t you a tailor?”

“Oh I umm, also dye shoes for the ladies. This pair is brand new and the customer never came back for them. So they’re all yours.” He winked at Solo. Del, having been a field operative once knew how to lie with the best of them.  All he’d simply done was get a pair of shoes from wardrobe surplus that was stored in the back room of the tailor shop.

“How much do I owe you?” Penelope snapped open her clutch bag.

“Oh not a thing Miss Waverly.”

She canted her head to one side. “How did you know my name?”

Del swallowed hard, realizing his mistake.” Umm, Mr. S told me, yeah that was it.”

“No he didn’t. I want to know how…”

Illya suddenly appeared out of nowhere. “Miss Waverly if you will follow me? You will receive your answer momentarily. Your Uncle Alexander is waiting for you in his conference room.”

“But how...where?”

Kuryakin held out a reassuring hand, enticing her to take it as he and Solo escorted her into the dressing room.

Napoleon pulled the curtain shut behind them. It was a little tight for three people as the girl was sandwiched in between the two men.

“Oh no, wait just a second. You two are perverts aren’t you?  Help! Someone help me!” She tried pushing her way past them.

Illya turned the coat hook and the door to headquarters swung open, revealing a hidden world to the young woman.

“After you Miss Waverly,” he gestured. “Welcome to Wonderland.”

“Am I going down a rabbit hole like Alice?”

“Not quite, but you’re in for a few surprises, courtesy of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.”

“And what is that?” She asked as Napoleon nudged her into the reception room.

“It’s the organization that your Uncle runs and for which we work.”

“So you’re policemen, like Scotland Yard?”

“Of a sort,”Napoleon nodded. He gave a wink to his partner, and guided the girl to the desk where Wanda had their badges waiting for them. After she pinned on Napoleon’s she handed over the visitors badge and he pinned Penelope’s to the collar of her jacket.

Illya stood for a second, with his hand held out, waiting for his.

“Ahem…”

“Oh sorry Illya,” Wanda quickly handed it to him, obviously preoccupied.

“Napoleon, you won’t forget about lunch will you?”

“Would I do a thing like that Wanda?” He winked at her. “Ready Alice?” Solo’s voice was filled with reassurance as his attention was drawn back to Penelope.

“I guess so, as long as there’s no Mad Hatter here.”

“None that I am aware of,” Illya shrugged,”but I could be wrong.”

“Gee thanks, that makes me feel so much better,” she said. Her flirtatiousness was gone now as she stepped through the secondary entrance with Solo and Kuryakin on either side of her.

“I do feel a bit like Alice right now.”

“My dear when stepping through these doors there is many’s a time I do as well,” Illya flashed her a crooked smile.

* ace face: 1960s British slang for person who is a good mod; someone with the right clothes, the right haircut and the right taste in soul music and ska. An especially good mod would be an ace face or, more properly, THE ace face.

Mod: the mods were a tight-knit London clique, created by young men obsessed with sharp clothes, scooters and general peacocking.

Comments

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

The prompt does go well with the Alice references. A canonesque coincidence, and a good new neice for Waverly. I like the slang.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much and for noting the very 60's British slang. Yes Mr. Waverly's family does seem to be goring down's it?

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Ah, the Mods. Had I been around back then I would have been a Rocker, their mortal enemy :-)

I like Penelope. I hope we get to see more of her in the future :-)

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Knew you'd be savvy with that reference. Being a Yank and a pre-teen in the 60's mod had different influences on me. It differed from that of the scene in London in that it was based mostly on the pop culture aspect, influenced by British rock musicians. I.E. the British Invation...Beatles, the Stones, and eventually the Who, and so many other countless bands. (as well as the Carnaby Street fashions)

Thanks so much for commenting on this. Yes, Penelope sounds like a keeper. Mr. Waverly's family just keeps on growing.

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

I think Illya has a new admirer. And for that, I'd like to see more of Penelope. Good use of the prompt.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Hmmm, I didn't even think of taking it in that direction. Must muddle this one over and add to the 'list.' lol!

Thanks for the comment and suggestion. :D

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

You're very welcome!