The Double Blond Affair chapter 7 - Why Don't These Things Happen To You Anymore, Napoleon?

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon and Illya made quick work of getting to the museum, bypassing their usual nod to the traffic laws.  Illya was at the wheel, and it was no small feat of endurance that Napoleon arrived without one word of protest at the maniacal driving skills the Russian exhibited as they sped towards their goal.

By the time they arrived, a small crowd had gathered near the columned entry to a medieval display.  On any other day, Illya would have enjoyed exploring the spot, but now he had a bad feeling about the setting.

“What’s going on here?”

Napoleon approached the security guard, his best smile in place as he began gathering information.

“Who are you to be askin’?”

A mild Irish brogue accented the man’s speech, and he grudgingly gave up his meager store of knowledge when Napoleon showed him his UNCLE identification.

“Oh, well then… some fellas were seen draggin’ another one outa here like he was a rag doll, all fallin’ down and… He musta been knocked out or something.”

The security guard stopped, his gaze settling on Illya.

“Funny thing, but the description of the man who got himself dragged outa here could be this one.  Now, tha’ts uncanny.”

Napoleon followed the man’s finger as it pointed to the Russian.  The two agents acknowledged what each one was thinking.

“Did anyone see where these men went after leaving here? Or did they just watch as an unconscious man was dragged away?”

Illya was impatient to get some useful answers.  THRUSH had the man because of the resemblance he bore to the UNCLE agent, and he had every intention of making certain that no harm was done to him.  No additional harm, at any rate.

“A couple of ladies… there they are over there… They saw three men get into a black sedan.  Not much else to tell us though.”

As Illya turned to see to whom the guard was referring, he was met with more fingers pointing at him accompanied by looks of surprise on the ladies’ faces.

“That’s him!  You’re the one we saw being dragged out of here.  Oh my, isn’t that something.”

Napoleon approached the two women; they looked to be in their late sixties or early seventies.  Properly dressed for a day at a museum, they sported white gloves and little hats that reminded Illya of the ones worn by organ grinder monkeys.  He immediately wondered why that image had come to mind.

“Now, I can assure you lovely ladies that this man is definitely not the one you saw being abducted.”

As Illya approached, the two little museum devotees looked first at the blond, then at each other.

“Surely you’re wrong, young man.  We saw him…’

They pointed at Illya again, this time with a firm set to their mouths.

“Two thugs dragged him out of here, all limp and helpless.  We tried to follow them, but they got into their big black car and drove away.”

Napoleon’s brow furrowed as he considered the vehemence of their eyewitness report.  A doppelganger wouldn’t be likely to be knocked out, would he?

“You were very brave to follow them outside, Miss…?’’

“Erma Lee and Vergie Lansing.”

Napoleon nodded, as did Illya.

“I am Napoleon Solo, and this is my associate, Illya Kuryakin.”

“Pleased to meet you… You certainly have interesting names.”

Napoleon smiled while Illya stepped away to contact headquarters.  Waverly would need to know about this, although how to tell him was something yet to be determined.

“What makes you think this is the same fellow?  I assure you he isn’t, because Mr. Kuryakin and I have been at work, together, all morning.”

Erma and Vergie both cut their eyes to check the other’s reaction to that.  Erma seemed to the spokesperson for the pair.

“That, Mr. Solo, is quite extraordinary, because I assure you that other young man looked exactly like your Mr. Kura, Kuri…”

“Kuryakin.  Exactly?  Are you certain of that?”

Two grey heads nodded in unison to the question as Illya approached.  Mr. Waverly wanted them to continue searching for the innocent who had been mistaken for Illya, track him and his abductors and shut down the satrapy to which they had most certainly gone.

Illya was holding something, and as he stepped into the little group he indicated to Napoleon that they should speak privately.

“Excuse us ladies.”

Illya led Napoleon back to the area where their mystery man had met up with the men from THRUSH.  In searching the entry, Illya had found a piece of paper with a phone number and a name: Shirley.

“I had a search run and we have an address on this Shirley, based on the phone number.  I think we should go there first and see what she knows about all of this, and about this … this man.”

Napoleon agreed.  There was nothing else here for them, but a team from HQ would be in to go over it for anything not yet discovered.

“Okay, let’s go.  Perhaps it will play to our advantage that she’s going to think that you are the other fellow.  Play along, Illya.  It’s all we have right now.”

Illya agreed.