"Snagged"~ for What's My Line? 3/5/16

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Prompt: You Can't Do That!

Illya remained in the car, patiently at first, waiting for his partner to return. He laid his head back on the seat. With the top down on the silver convertible it was at  least comfortable as was a sunny day. It wasn’t quite Spring yet, but the sun was strong in a nearly cloudless sky, and with no breeze the Russian warmed up nicely.

Before Illya knew it he was out, and for once it was a pleasant, dreamless cat nap.

He was woken with a start to the sound of a gunshot, and he cursed himself for letting down his guard. He went to pull his Special and heard another loud bang; he laughed, realizing it was but a backfire and not a gun fire. Nothing like a little agent paranoia, he chuckled to himself.

Looking at his watch he realized a half hour had passed; far too long for Napoleon to have taken to run into the drugstore to pick up a tube of Brylcreem.

Something was wrong.

For the second time in just a few minutes Kuryakin’s heart pounded; backfires and now a missing partner; this day was starting off the wrong way. He opened the car door, immediately heading into the chemist...no that’s right they called them drugstores here, he corrected his thoughts.

A little brass bell attached to the door signalled his entrance into the shop.  He looked left then right, and seeing nothing he proceeded to walk up and down the aisles in search of Napoleon. He found where the Brylcreem was located and it looked freshly stocked with a single red and white box of product missing. That made one of the Russian’s eyebrows raise.

Finding no sign of Solo anywhere he approached the cashier standing behind the counter at the rear of the shop.

“Good morning sir. How may I help you?” She cheerfully greeted him.

“I am looking for my friend. He was supposed to have come in here to buy Brylcreem. He has dark hair, is good looking,well groomed; he was wearing a grey suit.”

She looked at him strangely, while snapping her chewing gum. “Mister there hasn’t been anyone in here for at least half hour, except you. It’s been a real quiet morning.”

“You are the only clerk on duty?”

“Oh no, Cindy’s here, but she went on break. She opened this morning at six and since it was quiet she decided to go have a smoke, I think. She seemed anxious to leave."

“When did she?” He thought he might be able to catch her to ask if she’d seen his partner.

"When did she what?"

He was losing his patience already. "Leave, when did she leave?"

"Jeez what's your rush. She left about a half hour ago, and come to think of it, she’s about fifteen minutes overdue getting back.” The girl didn’t sound very happy.

That sent up an immediate red flag to Kuryakin.

“She would not happen to be blonde would she?”

“How’d you know that?”

“Many years of experience.” Illya tapped his temple with his index finger, at least that’s what he was hoping. “And where does this Cynthia usually take her break?”

“Out back behind the store. There’s a little table and chairs for us, and ashtray for our cigarettes. The owner doesn't like us smoking inside. He doesn't like us smoking at all actually; says it not lady like but that's not really his business is it?"

He rolled his eyes at her ramblings. “And which way would she go to get there?”

The girl pointed to the doorway behind her.

Without hesitation, Kuryakin walked behind to the counter and through the door.

“Hey where do you think you’re going? You can’t do that! That’s for employees only!”

He completely ignored her and barged through the stockroom, heading to the back door. Illya slowly opened it, peeking outside.

Nothing.

He stepped out to the concrete landing and down three steps to the ground where the table and chairs there were unoccupied. In the ashtray there was a smoldering cigarette and he picked it up, examining it; not Napoleon’s brand as he didn’t smoke filtered cigarettes.

Illya pulled his communicator; it was time. “Open channel- F, Solo. “Napoleon where the devil are you? Are you there?”

Only static. Now the Russian was beginning to become concerned.

He walked around the corner to an alleyway, taking him back to the front of the building. There the sidewalk was clear except for a woman with a pram who was strolling past, talking baby gibberish to her infant.

“Who’s mommy’s itsy bitsy boy? Koochie Koo!”

Illya stopped, scratching his blond head. Had Napoleon been kidnapped? And what about this missing girl? All this because of a simple errand.

He shook his head, as he was not looking forward to reporting this to Mr. Waverly. Kuryakin headed back to the car; his head racing as he was distracted by his thoughts.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw a dark haired man sitting in the driver’s seat of the convertible. Illya’s instincts were to draw his gun, until he realized it was Solo.

“Where have you been? I tried contacting you...are you all right?” Illya barked at him.

“Oh sorry about that. I left my communicator in the glove box. Where were you?"

"Looking for you! You were with that salesclerk were you not?” Illya got into the passenger seat, slamming the car door behind himself.

“Moi? I wasn’t with anyone; I just went to buy my Brylcreem.” He dangled the small paper sack in the air while giving Illya a look of pure innocence.

Kuryakin glanced at his watch. “Forty-five minutes since you left to buy your silly hair cream and the sales clerk inside the shop was overdue from her break? Ha!”

“Would I lie to you, tovarisch?" Solo flashed him a toothy smile.

“In a heartbeat, but next time you try such a lie remember to wipe the lipstick from your cheek.” Illya handed him his handkerchief.

Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Boys will be boys. It's just like Illya to worry about his partner and it's just like Napoleon to have an interlude with a pretty female, even if it's only forty- five minutes long. Nice story. It fits the prompt nicely.

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Very nicely written all through, with a fine last line.

I like that exchange about the salesclerk being blonde. The bit about the woman in the pram (one foreign language Illya doesn't speak) was a good touch, too.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Well after Napoleon being gone for a half hour to get a tube of Brylcreem, would seem a bit odd right, then another 15 minutes looking for him; I wouldn't blame IK for becoming concerned.

Glad you liked the story! And thanks for the great comment. :D

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Actually it was Illya calling the baby carriage a 'pram' in his mind...his having been stationed in London for 3 years, so it made sense for me to have him use the word.

Thanks for the compliments and for commenting! Glad you enjoyed the story.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

And here I thought Napoleon was innocent right up until the very end. Nice take on the prompt.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Brilliant! Napoleon seems to enjoy pushing Illya's patience. He's just lucky IK didn't report him missing straight away.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chuckle, thank you! Gotcha! "D

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

So right! If Illya had reported it then found him, there would have been egg on his face. I don't think he would have been as forgiving for his partner pushing his patience button.

Glad you enjoyed the story. Thanks!