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section7mfu2017-02-23 11:59 am
"To catch a Thief Affair" Chapter 2
The Waverly’s aka The Duke and Duchess of Warwick were dressed to the nines in preparation for their supposed dinner at the British consulate.
Estelle left her jewelry case out in the open as Mr. Kuryakin had requested, and placed it on a table next to a floor lamp that was left on.
As it was time to set the plan in motion, Solo and Kuryakin knocked on the Waverly’s door and were let in.
“My Mrs. Waverly you are absolutely stunning,” Napoleon bowed, kissing her gloved hand.
“Oh my, Alexander perhaps you need to take a page from Mr. Solo’s play book.”
“Oh pish posh enough of that my dear. I believe you and I are due downstairs as Mr. Kittridge will be here any moment with the Rolls. Good luck gentlemen, and please contact me as soon as you succeed in catching the culprit.”
“Yes sir,” the agents both responded.
As the Waverlys departed Napoleon walked over to the jewelry case; nestled in an interior of blue velvet were sparkling diamond bracelets, a brooch that looked like a leopard with gleaming emerald eyes. There were rings inlaid with rubies, sapphires and all manner of precious gems, but outshining them all was a scintillating diamond tiara.
He picked it up, examining it. “Wow, if I didn’t already know this was fake...”
“That is the idea,”Illya said. “ Now put down the pretty jewelry before you smudge the stones.”
Napoleon gave his partner a dirty look. “Okay tovarisch, you’re on your own. I’ll be listening in next door in case you need me.”
“Most reassuring, now out.”
Illya locked the door once Solo left, giving him a few minutes to get to the suite next door before checking his microphone.
“Testing one two three. Can you hear me Napoleon?”
Illya touched a finger to his ear piece.
“Coming through and me?”
“Clear as a bell my friend.”
“Roger that,” Solo responded and decided to pass the time for the moment, talking about his relationship with Dancer.
“Do you think Mark has any idea about me and April?”
“If he did not, then I would think he was a poor spy. If he was concerned about you and she, I am sure you would have heard about it. Personally I think Mark is somewhat enamored of his partner.”
“I know, and so does she.”
“And she has said nothing to him?”
“When the time comes she’ll…
“Hush, I hear something,” this time Illya whispered, before setting his communicator down.
There was a noise coming from one of the windows, and slowly it was opened. Considering they were on the 21st floor, that was a bold move even to one with the level of second story skills that Kuryakin possessed.
He watched a figure dressed completely in black come inside, creeping like a spider. The person’s face was covered by a black balaclava and the only thing showing was were the eyes, blue from what he could see.
Illya waited in the darkened corner for the burglar to approach the jewel case, and as the visitor picked up the tiara, he suddenly tossed after a quick look, he made a mad dash to the window and dove through it.
Considering what floor they were on that was a pretty dangerous thing to do. Before Illya could reach him, he was gone. As the Russian made it to the window, Solo came dashing inside.
“What happened?”
Illya stuck his head out the open window, seeing no one on the ledge, nor a rope from which the thief could have dangled from in order to enter, and there was definitely no body on the street below.
“The roof, “ he barked.
He and Napoleon dashed up the stairs and there they searched the gardens, but found no one.
“Look,” Solo called out,” He picked up a balaclava abandoned on a walkway beside a wooden bench.
They quickly headed down to the lobby via the elevator finding it vacant except for the night manager, who they immediately approached. Napoleon asked him point blank.
“Did anyone come into the lobby either by the stairs or elevator in the last ten minutes or so?”
“No sir,” the man shook his head. “I’ve seen no one. Though the main elevator was in use. It stopped at the fifth floor, then you both came down in elevator number two just now.”
“The main elevator...going up or down?” Illya asked.
“I’m sorry sir, I didn’t notice. Is there a problem?” The older gentleman asked.
They didn’t answer and headed to the main elevator, taking it up to the fifth floor. There was no one there other than a young freckle faced bellhop returning with a room service cart from the kitchen. He was waiting to get on the elevator.
“Excuse me,” Illya asked,” did you see anyone else enter this floor recently?”
“No sir. It’s pretty quiet here around this time of night. Is there anything I can help you with?
“No, thank you,” Illya said.
You’re on the twenty-first floor right?”
“How do you know that?”
“I brought up the luggage for the Duke and Duchess and I saw you coming out of your suite next door to theirs. How cool is it that we have royalty here in the Biltmore.”
“They are considered nobility but not royalty, though they are generally well to do,” Illya corrected the boy.
“Gee Mister, thanks. I never knew that.”The boy’s brown eyes widened as he smiled.
The bellboy left, and the agents quickly checked the rooms, they knocked on the doors, claiming to be house security and were checking on guests to make sure all was well.
Asking for ID, Illya was able to verify they were legitimate immediately thanks to his eidetic memory.
The empty rooms, thanks to a master key, allowed Solo and Kuryakin to search. They were all empty.
They returned upstairs to the 21st floor, waiting in the Waverly’s suite for their return. They’d lost their quarry and nothing could be done about it at the moment. The one thing on their side though was that the thief most likely didn’t know they were chasing him.
Illya looked to the baubles in the jewelry case, puzzled at how the thief could have guessed they were fakes so quickly. He picked up the tiara, examining it more closely.
“Chyort!” He swore in Russian. “Look at this! I will be having a word with supply.” He pointed to a hallmark on the back of the tiara stating, ‘Made in Japan.’
Napoleon contacted Mr . Waverly, letting him know the bad news.
“Dash it all! At this juncture we’ll have to try again with a different lure. I was hoping not to do this, but I will contact my friend at Tiffany’s and ask if we can have loan of a few pieces, as it’s obvious that paste will not do. We will be returning to the hotel shortly. Out.”
Napoleon closed his pen and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
“Another lure but from Tiffany’s,” he repeated.
“I heard, though I am not sure it will make a difference. How do we know the thief will strike again at this hotel? He may have been spooked by the fake jewels. It is possible he may continue his spree elsewhere.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that tovarisch. We have no way of knowing where he’ll strike next and we can’t set up that many traps at once in all the high end hotels in the city; we just don’t have the manpower.”
“I know,” Illya sighed. He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated at their lack of success. “I am having doubts in my plan my friend. For this burglar to have gotten in and out of this room so fast, without leaving a trace other than the balaclava on the roof has me truly baffled.”
“Hey, sometimes a plan works and sometimes it just doesn’t, no matter how badly we want it to.”
Illya suddenly spouted out a bit of poetry, “I am truly sorry man’s dominion, has broken nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion, which makes thee startle. At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, an’ fellow-mortal!”*
Napoleon responded.“T’is true, the best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men gang aft agley, an’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain, for promis’d joy! * Yes, tovarisch, the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry.” He clapped a sympathetic hand on his partner’s shoulder.
“As always Napoleon, you are right,” Illya sighed.”Perhaps a good night’s sleep will help me to gain a fresh perspective in the morning.”
“Or a new plan?”
“Yes, I was thinking that as well.”
They heard the doorknob rattle and a key turning in the lock; instinctively they both grabbed their guns from their shoulder holsters.
“Relax gentlemen,”Waverly called before opening the door completely. “After you my dear,” he gestured to his wife.
“Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin,” she nodded. “Sorry to hear you weren’t able to capture our night visitor.”
“As are we,” Illya replied. “Sir, Mrs. Waverly if you will excuse us, we have had a long and frustrating day.”
“We’ll be next door if you need us,” Napoleon said.
“Yes, thank you Mr. Solo. Go ahead and order room service for yourselves...ahem, within reason.” He eyed Kuryakin.
“Yes sir, thank you,” Illya said as he and Solo slipped out the door.
Once in the corridor Napoleon was able to read his partner better. “You’re second guessing yourself aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you go downstairs to the bar, have yourself a nice cocktail and I’ll order room service for us. A couple of steaks, baked potatoes, asparagus and how does German chocolate cake sound for dessert?”
“Two slices for me...please?” Illya’s blue eyes looked happier just for a second.
“Sure, since you asked so nicely,”Napoleon chuckled. “I don’t think the boss will mind. Now go down to the bar and have that drink. I’ll call you when dinner arrives.”
Next door Estelle Waverly hung up her husband’s suit in the closet as he crawled into bed. She did the same with her clothes, and put on a pale green nightgown and satin robe.
“I like this Alexander. We got to dress in some finery, though we only went back to headquarters. Now you’re getting to bed early, and I’m not staying awake for you to come home.”
“My darling, you have the patience of a saint. When this debacle is over with I’ll take you away for a weekend on the town. We haven’t done that for quite some time, and I think you are long overdue. We can go to the opera, dinner, dancing whatever your heart desires, and you can get all new finery to wear if you wish.”
“Oh I’d love that, but no need to go overboard. The clothing I have will do fine. “
“It’s your decision. Now enough chit-chat and come to bed.” He patted the mattress with his hand.
“In a few minutes. I’m afraid the excitement of the evening still has me a bit over stimulated. I’ll come to bed shortly. You go to sleep Alexander and have pleasant dreams,” she leaned over and gave him a peck on the forehead.
“Good night dear girl, don’t be long,” he whispered before closing his eyes.
* from Robert Burns,‘To a Mouse’
Chapter 3- the conclusion
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Hmmm, the night clerk? He was manning the desk so how could he be two places at once?
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OMG you too reminding me about the preggie Mrs.Kuryakina? ( there's been lots of other people as well)
I'm well into the story but can't get my head back into it to finish it. It's very emotional and heart wrenching, that's all I'm going to say.
Whenever you do get to read it, have plenty of kleenex handy.
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As I said, you'll hear a loud rebel yell when that IK/Elliott story is done, and you'll get a PM too! I promise.
Am in the middle of my Vatican story, that has not been an easy one to write. The Elliott story is a very emotional one and I'm just not up to dealing with that, haven't been for a while, though it is the direction I definitely want to take with the story. It's almost like I'm dreading it...I know, weird.
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I feel the same way with some novel series that I read (such as Outlander) so good you can hardly wait until the next book comes out....and you have that little fear "Oh please let me live long enough to read the entire series" or "please don't let J.R.R. Martin kick the bucket before he finishes Game of Thrones".....
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I have been pondering my mortality as of late, given my health. A little unnerving prospect given how many years I at least hope I have left. My oldest brother died at 67, my other had a heart attack when our dad died, he's doing well and will turn 70 this year. Our mom passed away on his birthday. Mom and Dad lived to their late 80's and mid 90's (respectively) so the genes are there to live a bit longer but with my health issues...I dunno.
So I better get cracking on that story.
And thank you so much for the compliment on my stories. Hopefully you won't have to be 'nagging' much longer. Keep yer fingers crossed as I'm going back to the emotional roller coaster that is that Illya/Elliott story...
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But I know how you feel - my health isn't the best and with my neurological condition it's hard to type and mouse!
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Do you use a laptop mouse or a remote mouse?
My neurological problems are in my feet, but am pretty sure I'm now developing arthritis in my hands. When I play my instruments the hands swell up afterwards, and hurt.
Today I tried Capsaicin on my hands and it helped. I was able to play my tin whistle tunes fast and fluidly, but at one point I must have touched my nose and my mouth with my fingers. Yikes! Felt like they were on fire from the chili pepper extract in the capsaicin. MUST remember NOT to do that again! LOL!
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Here in Washington where pot is legal I get a lotion that has cannabis oil in it along with Arnica and it really helps my arthritis. To quote Katherine Hepburn (who had ET as well) "getting old isn't for sissies!"
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Medical marijuana is available here, but very limited as to who has access to it. They're working on adding 'chronic pain' to it to make it available to a lot more people. Don't know if it would help me or not, but unless they add chronic pain to the approved list, then I'm out of luck.
I take a med that's used for epilepsy, though I don't have it. It helps my neuropathy pain as well as seizures (for lack of a better word) that I get in my left leg. A lovely residual from my stroke. The leg has a mind of its own and starts jerking on its own. I have balance issues thanks to my wonky leg.
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