April and Short Affair - Orange You Glad I'm Here

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I'm a day late for Short Affair, but it's still April so at least I'm on time for another April-centric story.  I combined them for this little story.
Prompts: Orange, Velvet
Word count: 845
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The man behind the counter looked less enthusiastic than one should while tending to some of New York’s most wealthy citizens.  This little shop was a secretive enterprise, attended to by a select handful of dutiful employees and known to exist by only the aforementioned clientele.

Perhaps the knowledge that their favorite boutique was off limits, so to speak, to the less affluent had contributed to its success.  Certainly a business that was only supported by word of mouth advertising had self-imposed limitations, and yet the owners were accumulating great amounts of money as they catered to the elite of New York society.

Illya Kuryakin detested this sort of bourgeois display, dug deep into his Soviet training to maintain his distance from the excesses he observed.  Placing him here, in this environment, was a combination of cruel intentions and devious, albeit genius manipulation.  Alexander Waverly recognized that his Soviet agent would not easily be drawn into the glamour or the lure of greed so blatantly displayed in this little known shop.  Not that any of his agents would succumb to anything subversive, but of a surety, Kuryakin was singularly immune to it.

The owners of The Hidden Key, a not too subtle reference to its exclusivity, were in fact members of THRUSH.  As each client walked through the iron gate that was shrouded in ivy, a camera recorded their presence and catalogued the information they would eventually surrender as they purchased by check their chosen goods.  The money being siphoned from their accounts was slow and not easily traced, but the end result was the padding of off-shore holdings belonging to the Hierarchy.

Illya Kuryakin took the opportunity to slip into the back where he had discovered a hidden room, a place where accounts were recorded and electronic transmissions quickly and efficiently robbed the unsuspecting shoppers who had been seduced by the brilliant staging of this exclusive establishment.  He was quick, locating the apparatus being used to access the bank accounts.  The technology was advanced, the UNCLE agent had never seen anything quite like it.  He wondered how it was that THRUSH managed to have such an edge on this aspect of spy craft; not even his Soviet comrades, for he still sometimes thought of them as such, had this sort of technology.

Quickly and with his typical stealth, Illya regained his spot behind the counter, smiling as the bell rang and a young woman entered.  She was dressed in an outlandishly mod ensemble; an orange velvet minidress accented by equally orange stockings and shoes.  She looked like a glass of juice, and was quick to scold himself for thinking that he would willingly take a large gulp of her should the opportunity arise.

“Bonjour mademoiselle, how may I be of assistance?” Illya was posing as a Frenchman, his impeccable accent the key to his employment.

“Oh, good morning.  I’m just here to pick up something for Mr. Marton.” The girl in orange was an auburn haired beauty, and although the two knew each other, their performance would give no indication of it.

April Dancer was very new to her position as a Section II operative for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement.  She had managed to infiltrate this operation easily before THRUSH could become aware of the first female agent for UNCLE.

“Oui, I have something…’ Illya reached behind him into a small cubicle used to store packages for the shoppers.

“…right here.”  The package was presented without flourish, and April took it from Illya, touching his hand as she did so.  The blond seemed to flush slightly, causing her to smile as she subdued the nerves she felt every time their paths crossed.

“Thank you.  I… um… well, goodbye.” April held the package a little closer than necessary, the crackle of paper causing another customer to turn and look, taking note of the two young people and the obvious attraction between them.

Napoleon Solo was always slightly annoyed when women preferred his solemn partner to his own gregarious self.  ‘Bohemian must be in’ was his only explanation for such things.

The American agent brought his selection to the counter where the faux Frenchman stood.  Fully recovered from the effect of April’s appearance, he turned his attention to Solo, exchanging a nod for the questioning expression on the man’s face.

“Will this be all sir?” Illya pulled out a small notebook where he wrote down the items being purchased, tallied the amount and showed it to his customer for his approval.

“That looks just right.” Napoleon pulled out his wallet and handed over cash, the numbers on Illya’s pad instantly memorized.  As he left the shop, he waved goodbye over his left shoulder, indicating that things were now in motion, and that the package April was delivering had been handed off to another agent in exchange for the false information being fed to THRUSH.

This operation was nearly complete, but as Illya thought back to the image of April in her orange ensemble, he knew some things were just beginning.

Comments

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Orange juice. For Illya a good thing

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

What a good scene, with the romantic undercurrents so well done. So were the professional touches, such as the why Illya was selected and which shoulder Napoleon used.