"The Something's Rotten in Block Island Affair" chapter 8 for PicFic Tuesday 4/5/16

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6 (part 1),Chapter 6 (part 2), Chapter 7


The prompt:

Napoleon found himself squirming as he did a quick update for the Old Man; in the end he was expecting a verbal reprimand for not having informed his boss of their suspicions.

Solo was senior agent, and was his responsibility to keep Mr. Waverly abreast of things, he supposed even if it wasn’t involving an assignment. One never knew when THRUSH or some other nefarious entity was up to no good as could be the case here.

Checking in, though still being on a short vacation, was the right thing to have done, but Napoleon didn’t always go by the book; something that often irked Waverly. He could hear the exasperation in the Old Man’s voice.

“If you had bothered to consult me I would have told you that there were already suspicions of the events taking place at Block Island.”

“You knew about this sir?”

Waverly cleared his throat. “Ahem, yes I did.”

“And you knew I was going with Messrs. Kuryakin, Slate and Kittridge to said island with, shall I call it...a pre-existing condition?”

“I understand what you are alluding to young man, and I do apologize for my miscalculation at informing you before hand.”

Napoleon hesitated.”So am I to consider this an official assignment at this point?”

“Yes Mr. Solo. It is our suspicion that T.H.R.U.S.H. is as usual, up to no good.”

“Well the tourists have been driven off but the locals haven’t.”

“Another concern indeed. What might they do next to drive off the local population?  Keep me informed of your findings.” Waverly out.” The communicator went quiet.

“Sure, thanks a lot boss for the heads up,” Napoleon grumbled. Sometimes the Old Man’s abruptness could be annoying and frustrating. At this moment that’s what Solo was feeling.

“Well the good news is we won’t lose our vacay days mate,” Kitt slapped his knee.

“Whoopee,” Mark snickered.

Forty minutes or so later the Pursang stopped its wild rocking as the storm finally ended.

They went up on deck, surveying the water. It looked like  a lot of the dead fish had been washed away, though there were still remnants of them on the beach. Maybe this storm was what the island needed to recoup.

Illya was the last on deck, stretching and sipping a can of ginger ale. He’d popped a ginger tablet just in case to hopefully settle his stomach, along with a Dramamine tablet as well, though he'd run out of the non-drowsy formula. It wouldn’t have been worth it while he’d been getting sick as he just would have vomited it down the head with the contents of his stomach.

“How you feeling tovarisch?”

Kuryakin took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before answering.

“Truthfully, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.”

“I’m going to go underway by sail so we should get to the Coast Guard Station faster; we have a nice tail wind thanks to the storm, once we round Dicken’s Point.”

“Be still my heart,”Illya said. He moved slowly but helped raise the sails and the Pursang finally took off across the waves.

Napoleon’s communicator came to life again; he had Mark take over the helm and sat down beside his partner on the aft bench.

“Solo here.”

“Yes sir, this is Ronald Blackstone, Rhode Island office. I have the information you requested. There’s one name that comes up, an Eddie Thompson. He’s recently made purchases of large amounts of the chemicals on our list at a number of different companies up and down the East coast.”

“Background on him?”

“Nothing sir. No criminal record, no criminal associations, including THRUSH. He quit his job a year ago as a librarian in Jersey City. There’s nothing remarkable about him at all in his education or upbringing. A head scratcher for sure.”

“You can say that again Ron, thank you.  Oh and please forward your findings to Mr. Waverly on my behalf.”

“Yes sir Mr. Solo, right away. Out.”

“You heard Illya?”

Kuryakin nodded. “Perhaps when we make it to the Coast Guard Station we should contact the local police to see if they have heard of this Eddie Thompson? Could he now be a resident, or a transient involved with this mysterious towboat we are trying to trackdown? Still this Eddie Thompson is not familiar to me among our feathered friends, but perhaps he is a new addition to the flock.”

“You’ve just said a mouthful partner.” Napoleon stretched.

He noticed Illya’s eyelids were beginning to droop.

“Not meaning to get personal but your evening with Madeleine and now your bout with seasickness seem to have drained your energy reserves. There’s nothing you can do up here. Why don’t you go below and get some shuteye. I’ll wake you when we get to the Station.”

“No argument for once my friend. I will be truthful, I did enjoy the evening with the girl and she is looking for my company again, but I am questioning the wisdom of my decision in sleeping with her; I do not wish for her to form any attachments to me.”

“Illya take it from me, never pass up a good thing when it comes to a pretty woman. In our line of work, we never know when we could...well you know.”

“Hmm, you are beginning to sound like me, a bit fatalistic.” He yawned as the motion sickness pill was finally working on its magic him.

“I think I will take your advice my friend.”

“Sleep well tovarisch.”

Illya didn’t respond and shuffled off, heading below. He practically dropped onto the bunk, and again curled up; falling into a deep sleep.

He was in the desert, yet everything was moving? Was he riding a camel...they were after all, called the ships of the desert.

Suddenly he was lying down in bed with Madeleine beside him; her fingers dance across his naked chest. He rolled over on top of her and made love to her; their bodies moving together as one.Yet he kept whispering to her that he had to go.

“I must leave Madeleine. I am sorry I can not stay with you.”

Still they continued to make love and he moaned as their passion rose to a crescendo.

“Illya?”

“Mmmmm?”

“Wake up, we’re here.”

Kuryakin’s eyes popped open, though his head was still filled with what he’d dreamt.

“So soon?”

“Afraid so. You were having a pretty good dream for once from the sound of it, quite a bit of moaning and groaning. And look, you’re not waking up in a cold sweat. You should have more dreams like it from now on...whatever it was about.”

Napoleon didn’t expect an explanation and his partner being true to form wasn’t forthcoming with one.

“Indeed,” Illya sat up, being pulled to his feet by the helping hand of his friend.

“Made you some tea, replete with raspberry jam of course.” Napoleon pointed to a mug set on the table.

“But I must help you ready the boat to dock.”

“Already done. You slept right through it. Relax for a minute, finish your tea and then we’ll go see Captain Morton about Thompson and our mystery boat.”

The Pursang had been moored to a long dock that jutted out into the water. While Mark and Kitt remained onboard the Pursang, Napoleon and Illya hoofed it over to the station.

Moored a little farther down along the water’s edge were the station’s larger watercraft, two fair sized Utility Boats. They were a general purpose craft used for nearly all the Coast Guard for the search and rescue missions Captain Morton had spoken of only yesterday.

The USCG employed only small arms such as handguns, shotguns, rifles, and machine guns for a station such as this. They did not serve a military function like the larger Coast Guard cutters that patrolled farther out to sea within the US coastal limits.

Sitting inside a garage in front of a fenced off ramp leading to the water were two 7-foot motor boats. They were primarily heavy weather boats used for search and rescue as well.

The agents walked into the station, greeted again by Pulver.

“Welcome back Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin; didn’t expect to see you back here so soon. Is this a business or social call...sorry I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Surely it’s business.”

“Yes it is,” Napoleon said.” We’ve got some new information regarding the fishkill problem and would like to ask Captain Morton some further questions.”

“I’ll have to call him sir, he’s at his home. Not far sir, it’s the  the brick house right here by the channel.

“Please do,”Illya said.

The phone conversation between Morton and Solo was brief, and not very very lucrative. The Captain was completely surprised about the chemicals being dumped in their waters. He knew of no such boat towboat by the description given. The fact the Harbormaster at the Old Harbor wasn’t familiar with it either meant it was most likely a transient. Some did come for the regatta as well as in doing hauling jobs as suggested, but dropping off and rarely hauling out.

As far as Eddie Thompson was concerned, he said they had a lot of outsiders pop up for Regatta week and there simply wasn’t enough manpower or a necessity for that matter to check up on them.

The name meant nothing to him and didn’t ring a bell as a local, but Morton offered to make a quick call to check with their small police department to see if they knew the name.

That at least was helpful and the agents waited there with Pulver for the call back.

“How many men are stationed here,” Illya asked.”Just curious.”

“There’s fifteen of us sir, we rotate shifts. We’re not as big as the station at Judith Point.”

The phone rang, with Pulver offering the receiver to Napoleon.

“Sorry Mr. Solo, the police aren’t familiar with anyone named Eddie Thompson. He’s definitely not a local. If he was here, it might have been as a tourist but they’re all pretty much gone now. I will however, be contacting our station at Station Point Judith regarding the possible dumping of chemicals in our waters. I’m going to request extra patrol boats to see if we can catch whoever’s doing it.”

“Thank you sir, that will be of immense help.”

“My pleasure Mr. Solo. Oh, where are you staying on the island incase I have any news for you? I presume you’re not staying on your boat.”

“Correct sir. We are at Spring House.”

“Great choice. That Madeleine is quite a smart cookie, and a real looker if I don’t mind saying so myself. If I weren’t a married man, I’d ask be after her in the blind of an eye.

Someone like her doesn’t belong in a place like Block Island, not that there’s anything wrong with the place. I’d like to retire here myself someday. It’s just that someone like her should be out seeing the world. Well anyway, good luck with your investigation.”

“Sure thing, goodbye,” Napoleon handed over the receiver to Pulver who was lost in thought.

“Gee Mr. Solo do you think this Thompson fellow has really had something to do with this fish mess?”

“Doug, your guess is as good as mine right now.”

Napoleon and Illya returned to the yacht and not long after, they cast off. They did a turn around the Pond, and then headed back out to finish their circumnavigation of the island, sailing North.

Kuryakin was feeling fine now as the waters were a bit calmer and the Dramamine had kicked in, but as a precaution he continued to drink ginger ale. The others laid off the beer, as they were now officially on duty so other than a nightcap tonight, there’d be no more serious drinking.

Sandy point and the North Lighthouse, past Settler’s Rock. There they spotted those same men with their buckets and shovels Captain Morton had mentioned. There was no boat in sight and like Morton, they assumed the men were still treasure hunting. Considering there were still so many dead fish around it was amazing anyone could handle being their along the shore line.

Napoleon remained at the helm, guiding the Pursang along in the strong currents there.  He decided it was safer to stay at the wheel given the waters were tricky off the north of the island. He’d be able to take them back to their slip at the Old Harbor. It would have been a nice sail except for the current circumstances.a

Their foray out onto the water had proven to be a waste of time in the long run, as they mystery towboat was nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know about you mates, but this has been a long day,” Kitt said. “I’m ready for some tucker and then bed.”

Napoleon had to admit he was in complete agreement with the Aussie agent.

They arrived at the hotel passed dinner time but

Madeleine, manning the front desk volunteered to put something together for them. Illya, knowing the cat was out of the bag offered to join her in the kitchen.

Her cousin Martin had arrived to take over anyway so it worked out well enough for she and Illya to disappear together.

Martin clicked his tongue in annoyance at Madeleine going off with one of the guests. Ownership had its privelges he supposed as Maddy’s parents were the sole owners of the hotel.

He shrugged. Why should he care, it was only a summer job to him. Maddy, had to live here and hadn’t left this island very often. Not too many locals to pick from when it came to boyfriends, he supposed.

Martin sighed; he was missing his girlfriend Sheila back in Providence and city life as well.