section7mfu | Round Robin Entry for 'Higher Objectives' Chapter Eight by Rosywonder

With apologies if this is too long.
Chapter Eight

From the shattered window it was possible to see the street below, relatively quiet for the time of day. There were few witnesses to a slight man being bundled into an anonymous car, a perfunctory squeal of tyres signalling its departure.

Napoleon turned away, the sudden flapping of curtains round the gaping window space reminding him of what had happened here. He picked his way across the chaos in the room before gathering speed down the stairs, and heading towards a small gathering of stallholders selling produce outside St Mark’s Church opposite. Leaning against a tree while he observed a particularly striking woman selling herbs and tomatoes, he glanced around. After the bugging scenario, he was taking no chances.

‘Wanda! Hi.’ Wanda was one of the few people he knew in UNCLE that didn’t want to know exactly why he wanted something or whether he should have it. After a slight hiatus, the telephone number of the FBI bureau handling the incident in Little Russia was provided. He smiled slightly at the name she provided him. It was possible that the homing signal alone could lead him to Illya, but in the meantime, he needed to know the answers to a few questions forming in his mind.

‘Yeah, that’s right, Napoleon Solo, he’ll remember me.’ He had managed to establish eye contact with the tomato girl by the time a memorable voice issued forth through his communicator.

‘Napoleon Solo. Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit! How ya doing boy?’ The Kentucky twang was unmistakeable.

‘I’m fine Dwane. Um, I kind of…’

‘Need a favour? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Despite his concern for his partner, Napoleon smiled widely.
‘OK. This is kind of sensitive, Dwane, but Illya and I were involved in a little incident just now with some of your guys involved in the Little Russia investigation, who just took it into their heads that somehow he’s involved. They hauled him off somewhere and I’m wondering …’.

‘Catch any names?’ Napoleon repeated the only name proffered in the predictable FBI one-sided conversation. There was another pause before Richards came back, Napoleon sensing a tension in the normally relaxed Kentuckian voice.

‘Sorry buddy, there’s been no action on the investigation you referred to, and hell, we don’t even have an Agent Spencer working for us, boy.’

I do believe that it's rose-of-pollux next!