It Was A Dark And Stormy Night - PicFic Tuesday 3/17/14

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

It was a dark and stormy night...

“Oh Napoleon.  You’re going to start off your report with that cliché?”  Illya shook his head as only he could, conveying both dismay and disapproval with the subtle movement.  Napoleon knew it well but decided to argue his point.

“Well, it was a dark and stormy night.  How else can I tell the reader if not by describing it as it was?’  He really shouldn’t have asked because now there was going to be an answer from his smart-aleck partner.

Illya considered for a moment, trying to remember that night in Ireland and the mission on which they had been helplessly marooned in a brooding old castle...

It had been a dark and ominously stormy night; a regular tempest as it were. It was bad enough that the two agents had been forced to climb the narrow road going up to the ancient castle, but once on level ground and finally at the front door (or what passed for one), the promised contact had not been there to meet them.

“Hmmm… This doesn’t look good, tovarisch.  I think perhaps we should have stayed down in the village until daylight; the trip back down is going to be treacherous in the dark.”  Napoleon looked around the grounds of the old castle, shivered as a cold wind blew seawater up from the swells below.

“Perhaps we should stay the night, I’m quite certain I can get past this locked door.  It would be best to not go down tonight.”  Illya was right, and it took nothing more to convince Napoleon that the night would be spent here.

“I suppose there are provisions and linens on the beds…”  Illya shot his partner a glance that was part amusement, part exasperation.  “You assume quite a lot, don’t you.  This isn’t an inn, my friend.  Let us get inside and then we can see what there is for our comfort, if anything at all.”  Napoleon harrumphed his displeasure at that.
“Leave it to you Illya to squash my optimism. You really ought to stop doing that.”  The Russian had to smile.  “I apologize, we shall hope that the beds are made and the fire not yet spent.  Oh, and a pretty wench to serve us our grog.”

“That’s more like it.”  A wink sealed their agreement.

Illya made quick work of the lock and eased the big door back slowly.  Napoleon pulled out a small flashlight and shined it into the vast darkness of the stone-walled interior.  It was hard to tell whether it was colder inside or out, but the need for warmth was uppermost on the minds of both men.

It was a few minutes before Illya located a wall switch. “Voila!”  Napoleon felt himself let go of some tension as the lights came on. “Electricity… that makes me hopeful that the rest of this place will be more hospitable than it looks from the outside.”

Illya surveyed the room then set about checking for anything that might indicate a threat.  He found nothing, but that didn’t mean THRUSH wasn’t close by.  The man they were supposed to meet here had not shown up, and that meant it was important to remain alert for anything that might mean danger.

More exploration finally led the agents to a kitchen, and they were relieved to find it well stocked.  It was very modern considering its location within the ancient castle, something that made the men more curious about its owner and how he, or she, figured into this mission.

“Illya, do you recall being told anything about who lives here?  I think Mr. Waverly has left something out of the file once again, on purpose perhaps.”  Napoleon made a face as looked around the white tiled kitchen.  Illya walked out into the hallway in search of whatever might shed some light on the location.  Upon returning he presented his partner with a business card.

“Stewart Castle, available for vacationing parties, special events and business retreats.  That would explain the updated kitchen. Apparently no one booked it for this weekend, so we should have our choice of sleeping quarters at least.”  Illya passed the card to Napoleon.

“I thought Stewart was a Scottish name. What’s a castle in Ireland doing with a Scottish name on it?”  After asking the question Napoleon realized his Russian partner was not likely to know the answer.

“I believe the name is used in both countries, although whether their lineage is common to both I am unsure.”  Illya left it at that, not willing to speculate. He decided instead to find something for supper in the large refrigerator.  After lifting lids on several pots he emerged with one in hand.

“What do you have there?”  Illya headed for the stove with his find.  “It is some sort of stew, should be easy to warm up.  See if you can find some bread to go with it.”  Napoleon opened a few containers until he found one with a large shepherd’s loaf.  It was fortunate that whatever party had been here last was kind enough to leave the left-overs from their meal.  As the stew began to warm Illya located two large bowls and spoons.  Napoleon had gone in search of a beverage, returning triumphantly with two bottles of Irish Ale.

“Excellent.  I must say, this Stewart Castle has some very nice amenities. I will definitely recommend it.”  As Illya ladled up the stew he indicated by a nod of his head that they should sit at the table located by the room’s only window.  Napoleon carried the ale and Illya the bowls of steaming stew.

“This is the pleasantest of surprises, I must say.  With a good meal and a nice room, hopefully, the prospect of the missing contact seems a little less ominous.’ Illya was enthusiastically spooning up some of the stew as he spoke.  Napoleon had contacted Headquarters during the meal preparation and now he wondered at the information he’d received.
“What’s wrong Napoleon?  Is the stew not to your liking?”

“No, it’s delicious and you’re right, the accommodations are excellent, or so it would seem.  Mr. Waverly didn’t seem surprised by all of this, as though he expected us to get stood up by the contact.  He said to enjoy the evening and everything would most likely be made clear in the morning.”  Illya paused to consider that.  “Well then, we shall do as our superior has suggested.  In the morning we shall have a good Irish breakfast and some answers.” He raised his bottle for a toast and was met by Napoleon’s.  As the glass clinked, the two men grinned their approval of the plan.

Outside the storm turned to calm.



To Be Continued...

Hamhock Stew

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Wonderful imagery, perfect banter, including a recipe and a "to be continued." Ah-haaaaa! You wicked little thing you. Can't wait for the next installment. Hope the next prompt is to your liking."D

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

Hamhock Stew sound delicious!!!
Love this, the stormy atmosphere, the imagery, the partners... being partners... But of course, you're writing the next part, aren't you? You can't leave us here!!! And Mr. Waverly... " Mr. Waverly didn’t seem surprised by all of this, as though he expected us to get stood up by the contact. He said to enjoy the evening and everything would most likely be made clear in the morning."

[carabele.livejournal.com]

Did Waverly maybe think his two best agents needed some R&R?

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

I agree with Carabele. R&R. Hope no THRUSHies show up and spoil it. Can't wait for the next part. Nice story.