"The Rhyming Man Affair" ~ For Wednesday is All about April

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Alexander Waverly huffed his impatience while looking periodically at the clock on his conference room wall and across the table to the figure seated there.

Agent Mark Slate nervously shifted his weight in his chair, pulling at his shirt collar.  “Sir, I apologize. It’s not like Miss Dancer to be late for a briefing.”

“Indeed young man. We’ll give her a few more minutes.”

Once the time had eked by Waverly reached for the microphone on his console; flicking one of the toggle switches.

“Security sir.”

“Can you locate Miss Dancer for me please?”

“Yes sir...one moment.” A few seconds of silence passed.” Miss Dancer is not in the building. Reception said she never picked up her ID badge this morning.”

“Thank you,” the Old Man looked perplexed as he switched off the microphone.

“Thoughts Mr. Slate?”

“No sir. I’m at a loss. I saw her yesterday when she was leaving headquarters. She said she had a date and wanted to get home early to get ready for it.”

“Do you know who she was seeing?”

Waverly’s brow furrowed, pulling his bushy eyebrows together...oddly looking like a giant hairy caterpillar stretched out across his forehead and Mark forced himself not to snicker at the imagery.

“I believe it was Roberto Ruiz from the Intelligence Section.”

Waverly reached for his intercom,” Miss Rogers please have Agent Ruiz from Intelligence report to me immediately.

Moments the pneumatic doors to the Conference room silently opened and in walked a handsome dark-haired man.  He was well dressed in a fitted grey suit and was adjusting his tie, before seconds after shooting his cuffs.

“Yes sir Mr. Waverly, you wanted to see me?”

“It has come to my attention that you may have had a date last night with Miss Dancer, is this correct?”

“Wow, word travels fast in this place...umm, excuse me sir. Yes Miss Dancer and I went out to dinner at Sardis, and afterwards we took a carriage ride through Central Park. “ Ruiz eyes went wide,” Am I in trouble sir. I didn’t think there was a problem dating other employees.”

“And after your carriage ride where did you go?” Mark  bluntly asked.

“I took Miss Dancer home….that was around midnight. She told me she had an early morning briefing and couldn’t be out too late.  Is there something wrong?”

“We’re not sure, “Slate answered. “ I don’t think she would have overslept sir, that’s not like April...Miss Dancer.”

“Precisely,” Waverly grabbed his mic again, contacting Security again and asked them to check on Miss Dancer, whose apartment was only a block from headquarters.

Fifteen minutes later a light lit up on Waverly’s console, indicating an incoming communication.

“What do you have to report?” He asked, seemingly knowing it was Security.

“Sir we’re at Miss Dancer’s apartment. It’s been broken into and is pretty disheveled. There’s no sign of her sir.”

Mark’s face blanched, looking at the Old Man with concern.

“Thank you. I want a thorough canvassing of the apartment building and the area. Report your findings to me as soon as possible. Waverly out.”

“Miss Dancer is missing sir?” Ruiz asked.

‘Hmmm yes, apparently so. You’re dismissed Mr. Ruiz.”

“Sir I’d like to help in the search if I could?

“Mr. Slate, will that be satisfactory with you...he is, after all, not accustomed to field work?” Waverly looked to his British agent

“Fine with me sir, I can use all the help I can get.” Mark rose from his chair, heading to the door, with Agent Ruiz bringing up the rear.

“Mr. Slate,” Waverly called after him,”Report to me…”

“Yes sir, I know a.s.a.p..” Mark nodded before disappearing through the doors with Ruiz beside him.

“So you been dating April long?” Mark asked.

“A few months now, why?”

“Oh just curious’ she only mentioned you to me recently.”

Before the two men even left the building, they were stopped at reception and told to return to the conference room.

As soon as they walked in, Tom Lopaka the Chief of Security was seated beside Mr. Waverly.  In front of the Old Man was a white piece of paper with a neatly typed message that read...

“Now I lay me down to sleep,

I pray the Lord my soul to keep,

April may die before she wakes,

Unless a ransom is mine to take.”

It was signed, "The Rhyming Man"

“A poor bit of poetry to say the least," Waverly's demeanor remained cool and collected."Gentleman, you are well aware that it is U.N.C.L.E. policy not to barter for their agents under such circumstances.”

“Yes sir,” Mark nodded, “But we’re not going to let them kill her sir, whoever they are?”

“Absolutely not Mr. Slate. Security was able to capture on camera the face of the person who delivered this message, as well as a license plate number...sadly that is coming up on file as stolen."

Waverly clicked a switch, lowering the video screen from the ceiling.

The image fading into view was of a nondescript scrawny man wearing heavy horn-rimmed glasses.  They watched as he scurried down the short flight of steps at the entrance to Del Floria’s and taped an envelope to the door. He hurried back up the stairs to a waiting car...and drove off, heading west.  Security Cameras at the end of the block near the Mask Club showed an agent quickly exiting the building, attaching something to the rear of the car.

“A tracking device?” Mark asked.

“Precisely Mr. Slate,” Messrs. Solo and Kuryakin are following close by….

To be continued in chapter 2:
http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/717867.html