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“That’s the last of them, Mr Reid.”
Stefan Reid, head of the U.N.C.L.E. North West accounting department, frowned as his secretary deposited the stack of files on his desk. Just looking at them gave him a headache. One whole pile contained the expenses claims of Napoleon Solo. Although Reid had signed off on them, he needed to look back through them and compile lists of which items were claimed for the most. He was, of course, going to be looking through those of other Section 2 agents, but he needed to get the biggest problem out of the way first.
The simple fact of the matter was, even though U.N.C.L.E. had more than enough operating capital, Mr Waverly had initiated an economy drive. For accounting, that meant cutting back on unnecessary expenditure, which in turn led to the expenses claims of agents and the fanciful claims of Mr Solo. He’d set aside a whole day to tackle the Solo and planned to explain the finer points of fiscal responsibility to the man in question the following day.
Taking a deep breath, followed by a large swig of hiss coffee, Stefan Reid opened the first file. It was going to be a long day.
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The following Day, Reid check back over his figures from the previous day. After a many calculations and considerations, he figured he could shave at least thirty-five percent from Mr Solo’s claims. Reid had sent word that he wished to see the CEA at his earliest convenience.
By late afternoon he still hadn’t heard from Mr Solo, but that could simply mean he wasn’t in the building. It was perfectly possible he wasn’t even in the country. Nevertheless, he sent his secretary to find out where the man might be. She returned a few minutes later, with tears in her eyes.
“Napoleon is in a hospital upstate,” she told her boss, with a sob. “It seems he got caught up in an explosion at a museum, which would have killed forty-four elementary school children, two teachers, and three museum workers if he hadn’t made sure they all got out. Apparently it was a THRUSH device, though no-one knows yet why they placed it there.”
“Will he be okay?” Stefan asked, with trepidation.
“It’s touch and go at the moment,” his secretary explained. “The next forty-eight hours will be difficult.”
Reid thanked her and looked down at his neatly written figures. Now though, instead of seeing hand stitched suits and Italian shoes, he could see little children. He could see brother’s kids and could imagine the pain of losing them, especially in such a barbaric way. He’d always been well aware that the agents were risking their lives on a daily basis, but it was his job to make sure money wasn’t frittered away. For now though, the lives of all those people were worth more than the cost of repairing a car or dinners at the finest restaurants.
Picking up the sheet of paper, he tore it into pieces. This was a battle for another day.
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no subject
Date: 2016-05-03 10:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 06:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 06:02 pm (UTC)I've had Stefan Reid turn up in couple of stories and he's usually a bit more strict. I try to use the same continual characters when I use original UNCLE staff.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 03:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 06:02 pm (UTC)I think even accountants can soften occasionally :-)