"That's the sound of the men working on the chain, gang" ~ for the Short Affair Challenge 2/29

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Challenge: The Short Affair

-Prompt Word #2 – Tackle

-Prompt Colour – Orange

Title: “That's the sound of the men working on the chain, gang.”

Author: mrua7

A line of men shuffled along single file; their leg irons slowing them to the methodical, if not rhythmical pace of a chain gang.

Drag-clink, drag-clink, drag-clink...

“Hurry it up ya’ll.”

A tan uniformed guard wearing aviator sunglasses and a Smokey the bear brimmed style hat, called out to the prisoners, who wore orange jumpsuits. Resting on his hip was the butt of a 12 gauge shotgun, balanced in his hand and ready to use, at any excuse.

“Missus has supper waiting and I better not be late! If that happens, then ya’ll know what’ll happen to yours.”

Not that prison food was anything great, Napoleon Solo thought to himself, but it was still food. Last time Officer Kato was late to his home cooked meal the chain gang received no rations for two days, and after that it was bread and water for the rest of the week.

Didn’t exactly do wonders for the gastrointestinal tract.

The UNCLE agent had been incarcerated for a month; his assignment, to contact a prisoner named J.J. Jones and get certain information from him. He was a former nuclear scientist who’d run a foul of the law. His work had been groundbreaking before he’d been involved in a hit and run that resulted in a death; the victim was the wife of the judge who heard the case.

Napoleon was having trouble finding Jones as he’d been transferred to solitary, and afterwards moved to a different cell block.

The only chance to spot him now was in the exercise yard, but that proved to be pointless as Napoleon had been attached to the chain gang. A dozen or so men were sent out to do roadside beautification on a daily basis and it was a sisyphean task that never seemed to end.

Solo was hot, dirty and dog tired and couldn’t exactly go around asking for Jones, as there were groups here that were pretty tight; questions would raise suspicions.

Saturday arrived; it was visitors day and Napoleon was looking forward to it as he was expecting company at last.

He was directed to a chair at a table in the sterile beige visitor’s room and opposite him sat his partner.

His hair slicked back, looked unwashed, he had several day’s beard growth and wore his reading glasses; an attempt to disguise himself as some of the residents here might recognize the Russian since he was responsible for their incarceration.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes...I think. Growing a beard?”

“Only you would state the obvious, and it is good to see you too dear cousin. Been able to finish the book UNCLE sent?” Illya was speaking in code, in case other ears were listening in on the conversation.

“No, life has been complicated so I’ve not been able to touch it. I’ll be happy when I get out of here though; the food’s lousy.”

“I thought you looked different; you could have stood to lose a few pounds anyway,” Illya jabbed.

“Very funny.”

“UNCLE says he will be taking care of things soon. If you cannot touch your book, he says then so be it. Someone else will enjoy it.”

“Really?”

“Yes, just stay out of trouble until then?”

“Okay you two, time’s up,” a guard called.

Napoleon knew better than to say another word; he stood, watching Illya give him a nod as he was escorted from the room.

“Okay son move it,” the guard gave him a little shove.

“Take it easy!” Napoleon snapped at him.

“Don’t sass me boy or you’ll end up in solitary.”

That’s the last thing Napoleon needed...wait, maybe that’s exactly what he needed? Anyone who’d spent time in solitary was sent to cell block C, where Jones was.

Napoleon turned and without hesitation he grabbed the guard in a tackle, shoving him against the wall.

Another guard pulled the agent away, slamming him in the head with a billy club.

Napoleon woke with a splitting headache but was now exactly where he wanted to be. A minor infraction of tackling a guard got him a few days at most in solitary confinement.

The headache was worth it he supposed, as he was that much closer to completing his mission, though Waverly had apparently decided it was pointless and would send in another agent to finish the job. That didn’t sit well with Solo at all.

A week later Napoleon was released to cell block C, a little longer than he’d anticipated but still, he was here.

He sauntered around the common room trying to appear uninterested as he looked from face to face. There sitting on a bench by himself was the dark haired Jones.

“Mind if I sit here?” Napoleon asked.

“Suit yourself.” Jones answered, not even looking up.

“The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain,” Napoleon whispered the prearranged code.

Jones’ head raised with a smile. “Only when the moon is blue. About time you showed.”

“I was a little sidetracked. You have what I need?”

“Been waiting to give it to you. Memorize this.” He jotted something on a piece of paper.” Once you’ve got it, destroy the paper. Understood?”

“I’m supposed to memorize this?” Napoleon took one look at it thinking it was Illya who should have been doing this.

“I thought your UNCLE said his nephews were supposed to be smart?”

Solo flashed him a dirty look. “I can do it.” Seconds later he shredded the paper and tossed it in the trash.

Two days later Napoleon Solo was a free man and back at headquarters in New York.

“A job well done Mr. Solo,” Waverly said; he looked his agent up and down, noting his suit was somewhat ill fitting.

“Your instincts served you well as the day after you were released, Mr. Jones was killed in a prison riot. It’s lucky you were not there, as you might have died as well.”

Solo nodded his gratitude. “What exactly was that formula for?”

Illya answered.“It is a nuclear equation indicating the alpha decay of Uranium-238, by which it produces Thorium and gamma rays. It is an integral part of a greater formula Jones had been working on, and will revolutionize how nuclear reactions can be achieved.”

“So your apparent weight loss, was worth it Mr. Solo,” Waverly hid a snigger. “I suggest you regain it, and not charge UNCLE to have all of your clothing altered?”

“Yes sir…”

Solo and Kuryakin were dismissed and headed out to the corridor.

“See you later Illya, I’m going to Delmonico’s for lunch where I plan to have nice big fat juicy steak, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and a huge baked potato slathered in butter and sour cream.”

“That is a bit pricey for lunch is it not Napoleon?”

“Hey Waverly told me to gain back the weight, but he didn’t say anything about me not using my expense account, did he?”

Napoleon saluted his partner, and disappeared around the corner.

Kuryakin remained speechless, for once.

Comments

[rose-of-pollux.livejournal.com]

Ah, wow. All in a day's (or in this case, month's) work for the Man from UNCLE.

Ha, I think this might be the only time Napoleon will be able to eat more than Illya can at one sitting!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

This spy lark is not all tuxedos and cocktail parties. I loved Waverly's dig at not wanting UNCLE to foot the bill to have Napoleon's suits altered :-)

ps. Who is this J.J. Jones person? Any relation? LOL

[pfrye.livejournal.com]

Must have been tough on the ladies back at HQ to have Napoleon gone for so long.......

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Can't blame Napoleon for wanting a lunch like that, after all, he could have paid for it on his seeing as the prison fed him for a month. Think of the grocery, date, and take-away money he saved.

Illya not having the last word is priceless.

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Got to love Napoleon's logic! Still, I think he deserves to have this - and to have the last word. Sounds like this was a very tough mission for him. Nice story.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

That's a terrific short affair, worth every word. I pity Napoleon but I'd give money to see Kuryakin in his disguise ;)