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section7mfuTitle: The Fifty-Millionth Frenchman Affair, chapter two
Summary: The group prepares for the search on the morrow, in spite of their concerns and questions.
By Lucky_Ladybug
Chapter Two
“I see you’re just about to sit down to eat, Kuryakin.”
“Had I known you were intending to drop by, I would have prepared something appropriate for you.” Illya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “What is it spirits eat, anyway?”
“That is top-secret information,” Ecks sneered at him.
“Well, whatever. I hardly intend to let an encounter with you spoil my appetite.”
“You don’t let anything spoil your appetite.”
“I consider that very wise.”
Ecks seemed lost in thought as they pulled up at the Royal Hotel and went inside to check with the desk clerk about their reservations. If Napoleon or Illya noticed, neither commented. Wye definitely noticed, but he chose to keep quiet about it until they were alone.
“Two suites on the twelfth floor,” Napoleon reported as he turned away from the desk, holding two key cards in his hand.
Wye grabbed one. “That will suit us just fine,” he said. “Now, did any other information come in about our little Ms. Cue?”
“Not that we know of,” Napoleon replied. “We’re going to look into that as soon as we get up to our suite.”
“Good luck to you,” Wye said, giving them a mock salute.
“Sometimes I can’t decide which one of them is more annoying,” Illya said low to Napoleon as they headed for the elevator. “Mr. Ecks has his cheeky comments while Mr. Wye always seems to be mocking us.”
“Oh, I think both of them work very carefully at crafting those images,” Napoleon answered.
“How right you are,” Wye muttered, overhearing. But he said nothing else aloud, more anxious in talking to his partner and friend.
The group reached the twelfth floor together and separated to head to their separate suites across the hall from each other. Napoleon paused at the door, the key card in his hand. “Oh, we’ll let you know if there’s any new information on Ms. Cue’s whereabouts,” he said. “It isn’t likely, but perhaps Mr. Waverly and Mr. Bowen will have found something among Harley’s personal effects.”
“We’ll see, then,” Wye said, waving to him as Ecks swiped the key card through the lock and opened the door. They vanished inside, Wye shutting the door once they were both through.
Ecks kept going and took his suitcase to one of the two bedrooms, setting it down on the bed.
Wye followed him, folding his arms as he leaned on the doorframe. “Alright, Duck. What’s eatin’ you? It’s not that namby-pamby Kuryakin double, is it?”
“No, of course not,” Ecks retorted. “He was out of my mind moments after it happened.”
“What, then?” Wye persisted.
Ecks sighed, sinking onto the bed and spreading his hands on the comforter. “I had a dream,” he said slowly. “A dream of something that really seemed to have happened to me in the past.”
“Well, that’s ominous,” Wye said. “When did it happen? The real thing, I mean; I assume dreamin’ about it happened on the plane.”
“I dreamed then, it’s true,” Ecks agreed. “And in the past. I had a lot of strange dreams while I was recovering. They were just like that.” He looked down, then up. “They’re always about me going to bother Kuryakin following the stabbing. I’m dead.”
“You’re not really, thank anything that’s good and righteous in this world,” Wye proclaimed. “But those dreams do sound more than a little unsettling.” He frowned. “Funny they’d crop up right now.”
“Or maybe not,” Ecks countered. “Maybe what happened last night triggered them.”
Wye froze. “I guess that’s possible,” he said gruffly.
“Wye . . . ?” But Ecks trailed off, not really wanting to say what was on his mind.
Wye came in, perching on the edge of the bed. “What is it, Ecks?” he said quietly.
“What if . . .” Ecks hesitated and shook his head. “What if those ‘dreams’ really happened? We already established that I left my body in Hyde Park; what if I did it again? And again?” He shivered.
Wye laid a hand on Ecks’ shoulder. “That wouldn’t matter to me,” he said. “I’m just relieved you’re here at all.”
“I am too,” Ecks said with a ghost of a smile. “But I don’t like the thought that I couldn’t control what happened to me or where I even went!”
Wye sighed. “That’s not very pleasant, is it. Well, if you really want to know the truth, you could just ask Kuryakin about it.”
“But I don’t really want to.” Ecks laid back on the bed, spread his arms on the mattress, and stared at the ceiling. “If it didn’t happen, he’d think I was daft. And if it did . . .” He trailed off. “. . . I’d have to accept it was real.” He rolled onto his side. “It was hard enough having to accept that I left my body even once. I don’t even know how to deal with the thought that there were multiple times.”
“Well . . .” Wye turned to look at him. “I guess you’ll have to decide what’s worse then: not knowing or knowing.”
“I know. But there’s no time for that anyway.” Ecks rose, propping himself up on his forearms. “We have to think about where we might find Cue.”
“As I recall, she was really into music,” Wye mused.
“Rebellious music,” Ecks put in.
“Yeah, you were both rebels,” Wye said. “Her because she wanted in, you because you wanted out.”
A knock at the door brought their attention up. “That had better be Solo and Kuryakin with information,” Ecks said. “Or room service.”
Wye chuckled and shook his head. “We ain’t sent for anything yet.” He got off the bed and headed out of the room.
Ecks hopped down and followed him. “They might send something complimentary.”
Wye was amused as he opened the door seconds later. Ecks always could brighten his day. “Yeah?” he greeted.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re in a good mood,” Napoleon remarked. “Illya has just talked with Mr. Waverly in New York.”
“And what did he have to say?” Wye asked.
Illya closed his communicator pen. “That there is only one more lead to Ms. Cue’s current whereabouts,” he said flatly as he and Napoleon went in. “Among Mr. Pea’s effects was a memo on Ms. Cue’s interests. There was a checkmark beside books, so Mr. Waverly wonders if Mr. Pea had learned that she was working in a library or a bookstore.”
“Cor blimey,” Wye exclaimed. “Do you know how many of those there are in this city?!”
“We were just thinking maybe she’d be working somewhere with music,” Ecks said. “That was what she liked the most.”
“What if it’s both?” Illya suggested. “We should check all bookstores that have a music section. Libraries as well.”
Wye nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a right good idea,” he said. “A lot of bookstores do have music sections these days.”
“So we’ll look in the Yellow Pages for all such bookstores,” Napoleon said. “They should come up under the Music listings.”
“That’s a good starting point, but some of them might not be listed there,” Wye said. “We’ve found out that you can’t always trust the telephone directory to give you the whole truth.”
“Naturally we will check every bookstore and library, music section or not, if we cannot find her at first,” Illya said.
“Too bad we arrived so late,” Napoleon mused. “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to officially start our search.”
“Well, we can make a list tonight, anyway,” Wye shrugged, crossing to the telephone table and opening the drawer. Taking out a heavy directory, he let it thump on the table’s surface.
Ecks immediately came over and started pawing through the pages until he came to the Music section. The group crowded around.
“Alright, alright, give me room to breathe,” Wye grumped. “Now, I’ll read off the names and addresses and you three’ll write them down.”
That took several minutes. At the conclusion, Wye turned the directory to the Book section.
Ecks stared at it. “Maybe we should just photocopy the pages.”
“Or rip ’em out . . . but I don’t imagine U.N.C.L.E. would take too kindly to that,” Wye quipped, looking up at Napoleon and Illya.
Illya looked back, unamused and unimpressed. “We wouldn’t be able to arrest you for it. Actually . . .” He studied the pages. “There is quite a lot here. It takes far too much time to write every name and address down.” With that, he calmly and deliberately ripped out the first page.
“Why, Illya, I never knew you to deface private property on purpose unless it belonged to one of our enemies,” Napoleon deadpanned.
“Normally I would not, but we are on a case,” Illya replied. “We need to save as much time as possible for the important things.”
Wye tore out the next page. “I quite agree with you, Sir! Now, might I recommend we order a late dinner and discuss how we’re going to go about investigatin’ all of these places?”
“Very well.” Illya grabbed the telephone with a great deal more glee than he would outwardly show in his face or his voice.
Amused, Napoleon crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Gentlemen, I doubt you realize what Pandora’s Box you’ve just opened.”
Wye shrugged. “Eh, as long as U.N.C.L.E. pays for it, who cares?”
Two hours later, when everyone else was full and Illya continued to snack on the leftovers, Wye stared at him for a long moment and slowly shook his head. “Where do you put it all?” he marveled. “You even out-ate Ecks.”
Illya just shrugged. “I have excellent metabolism.”
“To put it mildly,” Napoleon intoned. “Alright, so have we agreed on a course of action for tomorrow?”
“Yeah. We’ll check Hollywood while you two look at the San Fernando Valley. If we don’t find anything, we’ll meet up in downtown Los Angeles. Only . . .” Wye paused. “What if you find Cue? She won’t be too willing to talk to either of you, I figure.”
Ecks nodded. “The whole reason Mr. Waverly wanted us to come along was so that you might have a better chance of bringing her in.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Napoleon looked to Illya and then back to the British agents. “The most logical thing to do is split up in a different manner—Mr. Wye with me, Mr. Ecks with Illya. Or vice versa.”
“That is acceptable. I will go with Mr. Ecks,” Illya said, even as he stared Ecks down.
Ecks just smirked at him. “It’ll be fun, Kuryakin. If we can keep from throttling each other.”
“I will manage somehow.” Illya stood. “And now we should all get some sleep to prepare us for our search.”
Napoleon got up as well. “I quite agree. Goodnight.”
Ecks and Wye bade them Goodnight, even as Wye took another stare at the current state of the food cart. He slowly shook his head, still in disbelief.
Illya noticeably relaxed once they were out in the hall and heading to their suite across the way. “Tomorrow is not going to be pleasant,” he frowned.
“Well, it should be interesting, in any case.” Napoleon swiped the key card through the lock and opened the door. “But we could switch, if you want. I wouldn’t mind going with Ecks.”
“No, I’ll do it.” Illya followed Napoleon inside. “It would look petty and childish for me to back out. Besides, I don’t know that I would like going with Mr. Wye either. At least I know more what to expect from Ecks.”
“That’s true,” Napoleon agreed. “If there’s a lull in your conversation, do you plan on asking him about your dream-memory?”
“Not particularly,” Illya said. “I can do without his snarking at me that I must have gone mad.”
Napoleon vaguely nodded as he shut the door. “If he remembers too, you might be surprised by his reaction.”
“Perhaps.” Illya advanced farther into the room, then paused. “Napoleon . . .” He turned back to face his friend and partner. “Do you really believe this case is as simple as collecting Ms. Cue and bringing her back to New York for arrest and questioning?”
Napoleon paused too. “It could be.”
“But you don’t really think so,” Illya surmised.
“No, I don’t.” Napoleon looked to him. “And I don’t know if Mr. Waverly thinks so either.”
Illya sighed, crossing to the couch. “I wondered if it was just my imagination that he sounded unusually tense and then strangely relaxed when I said we had arrived safely and all was well.”
“It wasn’t your imagination.” Napoleon walked over and sat on the other end of the couch. “I’ve been thinking. Mr. Pea and Ms. Cue both escaped capture and ended up here. There could be others. We need a list of all the extremist organization’s members who are unaccounted for.”
“Including all the ones listed as Deceased,” Illya said flatly. “We’ve seen how accurate that information is. Ecks and Wye are still officially dead according to U.N.C.L.E. records. That is actually rather odd. I don’t know why Mr. Waverly didn’t update their status after I discovered Ecks was stalking me.”
“Mr. Waverly must have his reasons,” Napoleon said. “He generally does. It’s not up to us to question him.”
“I am aware of that. But in private I question it anyway.”
“Perhaps he feels that they are useful to us right now and their usefulness would end if they were listed as Living and their old comrades came after them to kill them,” Napoleon suggested.
“That is possible, I suppose.” Illya sounded noncommittal.
Napoleon let the subject drop. “If any of those old comrades are as deranged as Mr. Pea was, Ms. Cue could actually be in danger,” he said.
“And so could Ecks and Wye. Maybe even us by association.” Illya stood.
Napoleon got up as well. “One thing you had better ask Mr. Ecks tomorrow is which members would pose the greatest threat to us if they’re alive and learn what’s happening here.”
“I’ll do that,” Illya promised. “But for now, goodnight, Napoleon.”
“Goodnight.” Napoleon went into the bedroom to the right, which he had already claimed earlier. Behind him, he heard Illya shutting the door to the other.
He frowned as he slowly walked into the room, loosening his tie. He had to hope to himself that they were wrong. Perhaps this actually would be a simple mission.
Then again, with their track record, he doubted it.
Summary: The group prepares for the search on the morrow, in spite of their concerns and questions.
Chapter Two
“I see you’re just about to sit down to eat, Kuryakin.”
“Had I known you were intending to drop by, I would have prepared something appropriate for you.” Illya’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “What is it spirits eat, anyway?”
“That is top-secret information,” Ecks sneered at him.
“Well, whatever. I hardly intend to let an encounter with you spoil my appetite.”
“You don’t let anything spoil your appetite.”
“I consider that very wise.”
Ecks seemed lost in thought as they pulled up at the Royal Hotel and went inside to check with the desk clerk about their reservations. If Napoleon or Illya noticed, neither commented. Wye definitely noticed, but he chose to keep quiet about it until they were alone.
“Two suites on the twelfth floor,” Napoleon reported as he turned away from the desk, holding two key cards in his hand.
Wye grabbed one. “That will suit us just fine,” he said. “Now, did any other information come in about our little Ms. Cue?”
“Not that we know of,” Napoleon replied. “We’re going to look into that as soon as we get up to our suite.”
“Good luck to you,” Wye said, giving them a mock salute.
“Sometimes I can’t decide which one of them is more annoying,” Illya said low to Napoleon as they headed for the elevator. “Mr. Ecks has his cheeky comments while Mr. Wye always seems to be mocking us.”
“Oh, I think both of them work very carefully at crafting those images,” Napoleon answered.
“How right you are,” Wye muttered, overhearing. But he said nothing else aloud, more anxious in talking to his partner and friend.
The group reached the twelfth floor together and separated to head to their separate suites across the hall from each other. Napoleon paused at the door, the key card in his hand. “Oh, we’ll let you know if there’s any new information on Ms. Cue’s whereabouts,” he said. “It isn’t likely, but perhaps Mr. Waverly and Mr. Bowen will have found something among Harley’s personal effects.”
“We’ll see, then,” Wye said, waving to him as Ecks swiped the key card through the lock and opened the door. They vanished inside, Wye shutting the door once they were both through.
Ecks kept going and took his suitcase to one of the two bedrooms, setting it down on the bed.
Wye followed him, folding his arms as he leaned on the doorframe. “Alright, Duck. What’s eatin’ you? It’s not that namby-pamby Kuryakin double, is it?”
“No, of course not,” Ecks retorted. “He was out of my mind moments after it happened.”
“What, then?” Wye persisted.
Ecks sighed, sinking onto the bed and spreading his hands on the comforter. “I had a dream,” he said slowly. “A dream of something that really seemed to have happened to me in the past.”
“Well, that’s ominous,” Wye said. “When did it happen? The real thing, I mean; I assume dreamin’ about it happened on the plane.”
“I dreamed then, it’s true,” Ecks agreed. “And in the past. I had a lot of strange dreams while I was recovering. They were just like that.” He looked down, then up. “They’re always about me going to bother Kuryakin following the stabbing. I’m dead.”
“You’re not really, thank anything that’s good and righteous in this world,” Wye proclaimed. “But those dreams do sound more than a little unsettling.” He frowned. “Funny they’d crop up right now.”
“Or maybe not,” Ecks countered. “Maybe what happened last night triggered them.”
Wye froze. “I guess that’s possible,” he said gruffly.
“Wye . . . ?” But Ecks trailed off, not really wanting to say what was on his mind.
Wye came in, perching on the edge of the bed. “What is it, Ecks?” he said quietly.
“What if . . .” Ecks hesitated and shook his head. “What if those ‘dreams’ really happened? We already established that I left my body in Hyde Park; what if I did it again? And again?” He shivered.
Wye laid a hand on Ecks’ shoulder. “That wouldn’t matter to me,” he said. “I’m just relieved you’re here at all.”
“I am too,” Ecks said with a ghost of a smile. “But I don’t like the thought that I couldn’t control what happened to me or where I even went!”
Wye sighed. “That’s not very pleasant, is it. Well, if you really want to know the truth, you could just ask Kuryakin about it.”
“But I don’t really want to.” Ecks laid back on the bed, spread his arms on the mattress, and stared at the ceiling. “If it didn’t happen, he’d think I was daft. And if it did . . .” He trailed off. “. . . I’d have to accept it was real.” He rolled onto his side. “It was hard enough having to accept that I left my body even once. I don’t even know how to deal with the thought that there were multiple times.”
“Well . . .” Wye turned to look at him. “I guess you’ll have to decide what’s worse then: not knowing or knowing.”
“I know. But there’s no time for that anyway.” Ecks rose, propping himself up on his forearms. “We have to think about where we might find Cue.”
“As I recall, she was really into music,” Wye mused.
“Rebellious music,” Ecks put in.
“Yeah, you were both rebels,” Wye said. “Her because she wanted in, you because you wanted out.”
A knock at the door brought their attention up. “That had better be Solo and Kuryakin with information,” Ecks said. “Or room service.”
Wye chuckled and shook his head. “We ain’t sent for anything yet.” He got off the bed and headed out of the room.
Ecks hopped down and followed him. “They might send something complimentary.”
Wye was amused as he opened the door seconds later. Ecks always could brighten his day. “Yeah?” he greeted.
“Well, I’m glad to see you’re in a good mood,” Napoleon remarked. “Illya has just talked with Mr. Waverly in New York.”
“And what did he have to say?” Wye asked.
Illya closed his communicator pen. “That there is only one more lead to Ms. Cue’s current whereabouts,” he said flatly as he and Napoleon went in. “Among Mr. Pea’s effects was a memo on Ms. Cue’s interests. There was a checkmark beside books, so Mr. Waverly wonders if Mr. Pea had learned that she was working in a library or a bookstore.”
“Cor blimey,” Wye exclaimed. “Do you know how many of those there are in this city?!”
“We were just thinking maybe she’d be working somewhere with music,” Ecks said. “That was what she liked the most.”
“What if it’s both?” Illya suggested. “We should check all bookstores that have a music section. Libraries as well.”
Wye nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a right good idea,” he said. “A lot of bookstores do have music sections these days.”
“So we’ll look in the Yellow Pages for all such bookstores,” Napoleon said. “They should come up under the Music listings.”
“That’s a good starting point, but some of them might not be listed there,” Wye said. “We’ve found out that you can’t always trust the telephone directory to give you the whole truth.”
“Naturally we will check every bookstore and library, music section or not, if we cannot find her at first,” Illya said.
“Too bad we arrived so late,” Napoleon mused. “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow to officially start our search.”
“Well, we can make a list tonight, anyway,” Wye shrugged, crossing to the telephone table and opening the drawer. Taking out a heavy directory, he let it thump on the table’s surface.
Ecks immediately came over and started pawing through the pages until he came to the Music section. The group crowded around.
“Alright, alright, give me room to breathe,” Wye grumped. “Now, I’ll read off the names and addresses and you three’ll write them down.”
That took several minutes. At the conclusion, Wye turned the directory to the Book section.
Ecks stared at it. “Maybe we should just photocopy the pages.”
“Or rip ’em out . . . but I don’t imagine U.N.C.L.E. would take too kindly to that,” Wye quipped, looking up at Napoleon and Illya.
Illya looked back, unamused and unimpressed. “We wouldn’t be able to arrest you for it. Actually . . .” He studied the pages. “There is quite a lot here. It takes far too much time to write every name and address down.” With that, he calmly and deliberately ripped out the first page.
“Why, Illya, I never knew you to deface private property on purpose unless it belonged to one of our enemies,” Napoleon deadpanned.
“Normally I would not, but we are on a case,” Illya replied. “We need to save as much time as possible for the important things.”
Wye tore out the next page. “I quite agree with you, Sir! Now, might I recommend we order a late dinner and discuss how we’re going to go about investigatin’ all of these places?”
“Very well.” Illya grabbed the telephone with a great deal more glee than he would outwardly show in his face or his voice.
Amused, Napoleon crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Gentlemen, I doubt you realize what Pandora’s Box you’ve just opened.”
Wye shrugged. “Eh, as long as U.N.C.L.E. pays for it, who cares?”
Two hours later, when everyone else was full and Illya continued to snack on the leftovers, Wye stared at him for a long moment and slowly shook his head. “Where do you put it all?” he marveled. “You even out-ate Ecks.”
Illya just shrugged. “I have excellent metabolism.”
“To put it mildly,” Napoleon intoned. “Alright, so have we agreed on a course of action for tomorrow?”
“Yeah. We’ll check Hollywood while you two look at the San Fernando Valley. If we don’t find anything, we’ll meet up in downtown Los Angeles. Only . . .” Wye paused. “What if you find Cue? She won’t be too willing to talk to either of you, I figure.”
Ecks nodded. “The whole reason Mr. Waverly wanted us to come along was so that you might have a better chance of bringing her in.”
“I’ve been thinking about that.” Napoleon looked to Illya and then back to the British agents. “The most logical thing to do is split up in a different manner—Mr. Wye with me, Mr. Ecks with Illya. Or vice versa.”
“That is acceptable. I will go with Mr. Ecks,” Illya said, even as he stared Ecks down.
Ecks just smirked at him. “It’ll be fun, Kuryakin. If we can keep from throttling each other.”
“I will manage somehow.” Illya stood. “And now we should all get some sleep to prepare us for our search.”
Napoleon got up as well. “I quite agree. Goodnight.”
Ecks and Wye bade them Goodnight, even as Wye took another stare at the current state of the food cart. He slowly shook his head, still in disbelief.
Illya noticeably relaxed once they were out in the hall and heading to their suite across the way. “Tomorrow is not going to be pleasant,” he frowned.
“Well, it should be interesting, in any case.” Napoleon swiped the key card through the lock and opened the door. “But we could switch, if you want. I wouldn’t mind going with Ecks.”
“No, I’ll do it.” Illya followed Napoleon inside. “It would look petty and childish for me to back out. Besides, I don’t know that I would like going with Mr. Wye either. At least I know more what to expect from Ecks.”
“That’s true,” Napoleon agreed. “If there’s a lull in your conversation, do you plan on asking him about your dream-memory?”
“Not particularly,” Illya said. “I can do without his snarking at me that I must have gone mad.”
Napoleon vaguely nodded as he shut the door. “If he remembers too, you might be surprised by his reaction.”
“Perhaps.” Illya advanced farther into the room, then paused. “Napoleon . . .” He turned back to face his friend and partner. “Do you really believe this case is as simple as collecting Ms. Cue and bringing her back to New York for arrest and questioning?”
Napoleon paused too. “It could be.”
“But you don’t really think so,” Illya surmised.
“No, I don’t.” Napoleon looked to him. “And I don’t know if Mr. Waverly thinks so either.”
Illya sighed, crossing to the couch. “I wondered if it was just my imagination that he sounded unusually tense and then strangely relaxed when I said we had arrived safely and all was well.”
“It wasn’t your imagination.” Napoleon walked over and sat on the other end of the couch. “I’ve been thinking. Mr. Pea and Ms. Cue both escaped capture and ended up here. There could be others. We need a list of all the extremist organization’s members who are unaccounted for.”
“Including all the ones listed as Deceased,” Illya said flatly. “We’ve seen how accurate that information is. Ecks and Wye are still officially dead according to U.N.C.L.E. records. That is actually rather odd. I don’t know why Mr. Waverly didn’t update their status after I discovered Ecks was stalking me.”
“Mr. Waverly must have his reasons,” Napoleon said. “He generally does. It’s not up to us to question him.”
“I am aware of that. But in private I question it anyway.”
“Perhaps he feels that they are useful to us right now and their usefulness would end if they were listed as Living and their old comrades came after them to kill them,” Napoleon suggested.
“That is possible, I suppose.” Illya sounded noncommittal.
Napoleon let the subject drop. “If any of those old comrades are as deranged as Mr. Pea was, Ms. Cue could actually be in danger,” he said.
“And so could Ecks and Wye. Maybe even us by association.” Illya stood.
Napoleon got up as well. “One thing you had better ask Mr. Ecks tomorrow is which members would pose the greatest threat to us if they’re alive and learn what’s happening here.”
“I’ll do that,” Illya promised. “But for now, goodnight, Napoleon.”
“Goodnight.” Napoleon went into the bedroom to the right, which he had already claimed earlier. Behind him, he heard Illya shutting the door to the other.
He frowned as he slowly walked into the room, loosening his tie. He had to hope to himself that they were wrong. Perhaps this actually would be a simple mission.
Then again, with their track record, he doubted it.
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