The ABC Affair 2019- E is for Endymion

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Illya was quite awake when he heard Napoleon leave, and seeing the note stating that he was going down to the hotel bar for a drink answered the Russian’s only question.

He felt confident his partner wouldn’t leave the premises as he’d most likely become entwined with a member of the fairer sex staying here at the hotel. They had a 7 o’clock appointment to keep, and an agent like Solo wouldn’t miss it regardless of libido.

Napoleon had a few cocktails with a pretty young redhead named Lula, but for some reason he found himself losing interest in her. She wasn’t the brightest bulb on the string and though he wouldn’t have minded getting laid, he was more in the mood at the moment for intelligent conversation more than anything else. He looked at his watch; it was time to go either way.

“So what was her name?” Illya mumbled as he sat up.

“What makes you so sure I was with a woman?”

“I can smell her perfume. Jean Naté by Revlon, I believe.”

“How the hell would you know that!”

“I am a chemist as well as a physicist and I have been able to replicate...”

“Never mind I don’t want to know, but next time I need a gift for one of the ladies in headquarters maybe you could mix me up a batch.”

“Sorry, that would be illegal.”

“Very funny, and just so you know I only had drinks with a dish named Lula, who ended up being a dud.”

“Good, because we need to get going.”

“I know, that’s why I came back,” Solo crinkled his nose at him.

Getting to the the St. Louis cemetery was easier said than done as the only route they could use found them smack in the middle of the Krewe of Endymion festivities.

Apparently this Krewe was so popular that onlookers began saving their viewing spots in the wee hours of the morning, even though the parade didn’t start until much later on.

Endymion hosted the Samedi Gras, advertised as the greatest block party on earth, drawing tens of thousands from the mid-city neighborhoods to help kick off the festivities. The Krewe’s motto was ‘Throw ‘til it Hurts!” They estimated that they would toss thousands of baubles from their floats along their parade route.

Samedi or better known as Baron Samedi was one of the loa in the religion of Voodoo and considered master of the dead. Loa were the spirits of  Voodoo also referred to as mystères or the invisibles, and were intermediaries between Bondye, from the French Bon Dieu, meaning ‘good God,’ the Supreme Creator, and human kind.

Samedi was often usually depicted with a top hat, black tailcoat and resembling a skeleton. He was sometime known to carry a large snake on his shoulders and enjoyed smoking cigars.

The sun had already set and the festivities were already in full swing began as the two U.N.C.L.E. pushed their way through the throngs of revelers, many of whom were dressed as the Baron while frolicking in the street as well as on several floats.

Napoleon and Illya finally reached the cemetery with little time to spare, but oddly the gate was unlocked and ajar.

They peeked inside, using their flashlights as the light from the nearest street lamp did little to illuminate the area. As they had observed in their previous visits to New Orleans cemeteries, they found nothing but rusty ironwork and tombs with the dark stains of time running down their outer walls. Many of these above ground tombs dated back centuries, some were crumbling in disrepair.

Angelic statuary, crosses and the roofs of the many mausoleums disappeared like wraiths past the light of the flashlights.

The sounds of cicadas along with the sounds of the Mardi Gras celebrations filled the air. Dotting the landscape inside the cemetery flickering votive candles still burned, left there by the relatives of the dead. This was a Catholic cemetery but still it contained the likes of the remains of the Voodoo queen, Marie Laveau, the 18th century Creole priestess of the Voodoo religion.

Napoleon and Illya’s past experiences at her mausoleum would be something they’d never forget, or share with anyone else as they’d be instantly be sent to the Psych department for extended evaluation. *

No matter how many times the agents had been in cemeteries around the world, the experience still sent shivers up and down their spines. Being around so many dead people here might make anyone nervous, but perhaps it was because most of these dead were entombed above ground. It put one’s self closer to the corpses than if they were buried six feet under.

New Orleans, being built below sea level meant that when there was a flood, any coffin buried in the earth would rise and float away. The solution to that problem were the mausoleums and weighted grave stones that were  now used.

“You don’t suppose our contact went inside do you tovarisch?” Napoleon looked at his watch as it was now five minutes past the pre-arranged meeting time.

“I hope not. Our previous ordeals here were enough to last me a lifetime,”Illya whispered.

“Right enough. Wait, isn’t this the place where you opened your wallet and a moth flew out?”*

“Very funny. Keep it up and see if I help you out of a bind when you need money again. Remember, you better repay me the cost of those shoes..”

“Don’t worry that blond Russian head of yours, I’ll pay you back. I promised I would, remember?”

“You said Scout’s honor, and whenever you use that phrase you are usually lying.”

“Well I wasn’t this time.”Napoleon was beginning to get annoyed with his partner’s incessant reminders and he ended the discussion lest an argument ensue. Now was simply not the time or place.

They waited another ten minutes until rapid footsteps came running towards them. Both agents drew their weapons as a breathless man approached.

“No time for code, here take this...they’re coming! Take it and go! “ The man’s white shirt was red with blood and he shoved an envelope into Solo’s hand.

He collapsed to the ground and Illya knelt, quickly checking for a pulse; he shook his head after finding none.

Multiple footsteps came closer, but there was little choice as to where to go.

“Get ‘em,” one of them shouted. It was obvious Napoleon and Illya had been spotted.

The Endymion parade was now in full frenzy and they’d never make it through the crowds that lined the route. Their only choice was to head into the cemetery.

Inside was a rabbit warren of alleys and aisles, tombs erected oddly with no rhyme or reason to their size or placement and seemingly not in consideration of the others around each of them.

There were lichen covered headstones and statues everywhere, making it difficult to see if there were real people lurking there in the shadows, waiting for Napoleon and Illya.

As the agents darted amongst the many family tombs, they encountered even larger mausoleums devoted to a handful of societies such as the New Orleans Musician’s tomb, or that of an Italian society.

The hid behind one of these weather stained structures that was apparently well cared for as they listened for signs of their contacts pursuers.  The din from the parade seemed distant, almost ethereal as it echoed in the air around them.

Dampness, mold, mildew surrounded them, and the obvious smell of old death filled their nostrils as they remained motionless there in the dark.

Who knew what was around them ready to pounce, human or perhaps not. Napoleon and Illya had plenty of inexplicable experiences in cemeteries so what would make tonight different from any other foray they’d made into a place of death…

They continued to hear the footfalls, now becoming distant along with muffled voices. They seemed to be giving up, or at least that’s what the UNCLE agents hoped.

It was like holding one’s breath, waiting for the exact second it was safe to exhale and breathe again...

Comments

[threecee.livejournal.com]

Ooh, more please?

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Next chapter will post tomorrow at 11:30 am. EST. :D