"Sitting Tight"~ for the Short Affair Challenge 2/22/16

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #2 – Malice

-Prompt Colour – Yellow

Title: Sitting tight

Author: mrua7

Word count: sorry it’s just a wee bit over 1000

It was clear to Section I whose members were acting as judge and jury; Napoleon Solo had acted with malice aforethought and murdered his partner. It was a premeditated act, well planned and implemented by UNCLE’s now former number one agent.

Alexander Waverly being a member of Section I was part of the decision making process, though he voted in favor of Solo’s innocence.  If he hadn’t, the judgement would have been unanimous. He was positive Napoleon couldn’t have done it, and stood his ground.

“Alexander,” they said,” you’re letting your fondness for the man color your thinking.”

“Balderdash! Utter nonsense. Napoleon Solo is the most honorable agent I have ever encountered, barring his indiscretions with the fairer sex; the man has the most focused moral compass of anyone I’ve ever met. It’s preposterous that he would have killed his partner.

Good God gentlemen; those two men trusted each other implicitly. Solo would go to the ends of the earth to save …”Alexander shook his head. “What’s the point? No matter what I say; you have made up your minds.”

“It’s about time you came around Alexander,” said Harry Beldon.

“My resignation to your decision has not ‘made me come around, Harry. I put in my vote under strong protest. Napoleon Solo is being framed. Period.”

“Very well Alexander, your protest will be noted,” they said.” Bring in the prisoner.”

Two guards escorted Napoleon in, though he slowly hobbled along in shackles and handcuffs. There was no chance this very resourceful man could escape, not this time.

He was unshaven, his clothing wrinkled and in disarray; he’d slept in them for a while now.

The room was filled with sunlight and shadows though Solo hadn’t seen natural light in days and his eyes squinted at the brightness.

For some reason, all he could focus on were the minute particles of dust drifting through the sunbeams shining through the two narrow windows behind the seated Section Chiefs.

Once his attention was drawn to the men; four of them were scrutinizing him, while Waverly’s eyes were filled with anger and frustration.

Gabhail Samoy of the New Delhi office spoke.

“Napoleon Solo. It is with great sadness that you have been found guilty of murdering Agent Robert Carson in your home seven days ago. You will be sentenced accordingly for your heinous crime. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Napoleon stood proud with his chin raised. He’d told them time and again he had nothing to do with it; he was being framed. What was the point? He knew they’d made up their minds. Only Waverly believed him.

“Are you prepared to receive your sentence?” Beldon said.

Napoleon shrugged, showing his disdain.

“Very well.” Beldon sneered.”Alexander would you please read the determination?”

Napoleon knew that was the ultimate slap in the face for Waverly and Beldon was a yellow bellied bastard for asking him to do it.

He watched as the Old Man blanched; clearing his throat before speaking.

”Napoleon Solo, it is with deep regret that you are sentenced to spend the rest of your life in our prison facility in Antarctica. I will, however, not stop at trying to clear you my boy.”

“Alexander!” Beldon snapped.

“The devil take you Harry Beldon!” Waverly barked at him. “He’s my agent and I have every right to try to clear him, so take your attitude and ...stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine!”

Napoleon smiled for the first time in days. If there were anyone who could clear him, it would be Waverly.

The Old Man left his seat, and approached the prisoner; he intended to have a private word with him. Waverly leaned in, whispering oh so softly.

“Locker C18 Grand Central Station.” He slipped a key and lock pick into Solo’s hand. “Sit tight.”

“Goodbye Mr. Solo. I wish you Godspeed, “Waverly raised his voice.”Thank you for serving UNCLE with honor, though they may think otherwise.” Waverly nodded to the others.

“Now if you’ll excuse me?” He left the room before Solo was taken away.

Napoleon was brought to the holding area where he’d be prepared to leave for Tartarus.

There’d be a long flight, followed by a trip on board an icebreaker, once arriving in Antarctica he and his escorts would disembark and Napoleon would be handed over to the guards from the prison. There’d be one last trip by snowcat to his final frigid destination.

The maximum security facility was home to a number of nefarious villains Napoleon himself had put there, megalomaniacs, THRUSH moles, and agents who’d committed crimes similar to what Solo had been accused.

“Murderers and monsters... like hell I’ll go,” Napoleon mumbled to himself.

Seated on a bench outside his cell; Napoleon’s escort had turned their backs to him while completing their  paperwork, giving him the opportunity he needed to use the lockpick and free himself.

He karate chopped them into unconsciousness, and managed to get himself out of the building using a secret door that Waverly himself had once told him about; no one else knew of it.

Having no cash, it would take him around nine minutes on foot to make it to Grand Central. Solo kept checking behind himself, but wasn’t followed.

Arriving at the station, he found the locker and inside it was a Special, an envelope with plenty of cash as well as a pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes and a book of matches. Lastly, there was a neatly folded tweed jacket and inside the breast pocket was a train ticket to Newburgh in Orange County.

“God bless the Old Man’s heart.” Solo lit up a cigarette, inhaling with great relish as he put on the jacket, tucking the gun into the back of his trousers, and the envelope to his inside jacket pocket.

There was an obscure safe house in Newburgh and he’d sit tight as instructed until he received word from Waverly or was caught he supposed.

Six weeks later, the phone in the safe house rang as Napoleon was finishing his breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and coffee. The money he’d been given let him buy ample supplies, some fresh clothing, as well as a transistor radio to let him keep up on the outside world.

“Mr. Solo,” Waverly said, “it’s safe to come home. You have been cleared, thanks to the efforts of Agent Kuryakin. It seems a THRUSH mole was responsible for this whole debacle. Kuryakin was able to elicit a complete confession from the fellow on tape before he was  dispatched.”

“Thank you sir, and remind me to thank this Agent Kuryakin.”

“He’s stationed in London at present, but I may be transferring him here to New York sooner than later. I think he is ready for the ‘big leagues,’ as you would say young man.

* Tartarus- fanon, coined by Gina Martin.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Yeah, bait and switch and it got everyone. Glad you enjoyed the story and thanks for the comment!