The Shores of Paradise part 2 - PicFic Anniversary Redux 8/26

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I decided to continue the story that started two years ago with this first PicFic offering.  If you haven't yet read the re-post of the original story, you can do it HERE
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Two months after the death of Garrison Nealy...

“Illya, something new has come in regarding the drowning death of Garrison Nealy.  Mr. Waverly wants us upstairs ASAP.”

Illya frowned at the news, reminded again of the scene in California and his partner’s morose behavior.

“Garrison had a heart attack.  What sort of news could there be concerning his death?”  Napoleon just shook his head.  Something told him that he had been right all along; it wasn’t merely a heart attack that had killed his agent.

“I don’t know, but we may have another round of beach weather ahead of us if my instincts are correct.”  A sigh of resignation met that statement as the Russian acquiesced to the inevitability of Napoleon’s instincts being on target.  They usually were.

Thirty minutes later the meeting was in full swing and as Napoleon had expected there was more to Nealy’s death than had first been determined.

“It took a second examination and extensive blood work by our own people to ferret out the cause of Mr. Nealy’s heart attack.’ Mr. Waverly disliked this business; his people deserved dignity afforded them in the wake of tragic deaths such as this.  However, the results justified the invasive nature of the ongoing autopsy activities.

“A drug was found in his system, well hidden and most definitely the catalyst for that heart attack he suffered.  He was murdered, gentlemen, and I expect you to bring his killer to justice.  You have your files, and plane tickets are waiting for you at my secretary’s desk.”

Napoleon looked sideways at his partner, then back to their Chief.  He didn’t want to give in to anything like a vendetta, but Garrison Nealy had been a good man, a good agent; Napoleon felt a certain responsibility for losing him and he would savor the moment when justice was served.

“Sir, are we to assume that Los Angeles has all of the pertinent details to this new development?”  Waverly nodded, understanding the underlying tension in his CEA.

“Yes Mr. Solo, the team of Weathers and Carson will be your counterparts while you are in their territory.  They have this report and the most recent information on the location of your target.’ He raised his head and examined both of his men before continuing.

“Your plane leaves within the hour, gentlemen, I suggest you collect your travel bags and make haste.  I want this cleared up quickly.”  He opened another file and was already onto the next item on his agenda.  Napoleon and Illya stood and headed towards the door, each man intent on his thoughts.

When their plane landed at LAX, both Napoleon and Illya were familiar with the information their files held.  The man they were after was a THRUSH agent by the name of Lionel Hartnell.  He had worked alongside Nealy in the luxurious seaside resort that was owned by THRUSH.  It served as both a money making enterprise and a location for meetings and other Hierarchy business, all legitimate and surprisingly open.  It was like hiding in plain sight, and no one was the wiser.

No one except the U.N.C.L.E.

“Bird of Paradise Hotel?” Illya was amazed at how transparent their enemy was, all the while flaunting their identity as they carried on the numerous criminal activities.

“I suppose they don’t expect UNCLE agents to show up.”  Napoleon felt somber as he remembered seeing Nealy’s body on the beach below.  Looking at the hotel, with its towering palm trees along a beachfront already swarming with sun seeking vacationers, the UNCLE agents were counting on  eventually being recognized; this was the plan.

The two L.A. agents came up alongside their counterparts and joined them as all four prepared to embark on this mission. Stephanie Weathers and Jessica Carson would be posing as wives of the two men from New York.

Jessica and Napoleon, Stephanie and Illya.

Jessica Carson was a willowy, well toned blonde with green eyes and a deadly aim.  Her scores at Survival School were close enough to Napoleon’s to make her nearly his equal.  In her mind she was.

Stephanie Weathers had come to the Command by way of Hollywood.  In a strange turn of events she had landed a role in a fake casting call put out by the Los Angeles office.  When she was finally told of the scheme, the intrigue of it all made her inquire about joining.  She was at Survival School at the same time as Jessica, and although she didn’t score quite as high, the two of them were both graduated with enough honors to merit a gig in the L.A. office, right in their own backyards.

Pairing the two best actors in the Command, Kuryakin and Weathers, had been her idea.  She’d seen pictures of the Russian and thought they’d look good together; her dark hair and eyes were a dramatic contrast to his light hair and blue eyes.  After all, casting was something she understood.

Jessica was keen to take on Solo. After all, it had been his record she’d chased since Survival School.  Even now she was anxious to test her skills against his.

The two couples entered the big glass double doors to The Bird of Paradise Hotel as the doorman bowed and uttered a ‘welcome’ while they passed by him.  Dropping their luggage in front of the concierge desk, Napoleon smiled at the nattily dressed man behind it.

“Hello and welcome to the beautiful Bird of Paradise.  How may I help you?”  He had a strange accent, clipped but not British.  Illya mulled it over, unable to place where the man might have originated.

“Thank you, I believe you will find that we have reservations for a suite.  Solo and Kuryakin are the names.” As per usual, they didn’t change their names.  It was uncanny how many times THRUSH failed to recognize them.

“Ah yes, I see it right here.  And you are joined by your lovely...?”

“Wives.  Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Solo.  And this is Mr. and Mrs. Kuryakin.”  The man behind the desk smiled and nodded.

“Very nice to meet you, all of you. If you will simply sign in...’ he watched as Napoleon and then Illya signed the guest register.

“Very good!’ The man, whose name tag identified him as Mr. Tuttle, snapped his fingers and called out a command to the nearest bell hop.

“Angel, take these bags to the Plummage Suite.  Our guests are ready to see their rooms.”  Angel was quick to load the bags onto his trolley and head for the elevator.  The foursome followed, each of them aware of the other people in the lobby and the various employees.  Upon reaching the elevator Illya stopped short of entering.

“I seem to have forgotten something in the car.  I’ll join you upstairs.”  Napoleon knew he was going to do a little sight-seeing, to see if anyone was making phone calls to THRUSH Central.

“Oh, sweetheart I’ll come with you.  I think my toiletry bag is still in there as well.”  Illya frowned at the intrusion, but he couldn’t very well start an argument over it in front of everyone.  With a sigh of resignation patently Kuryakin, he took Stephanie’s hand and led her back to the front of the hotel and out into the parking lot.  They had to make it look as though they were actually going to the car.

In the elevator Napoleon could feel Jessica’s hand on his back, a familiarity he wouldn’t have expected from someone he’d just met.  Something told him that she wasn’t going to back down from anything he might ask of her; he’d read her file and knew of her performance, both on the Island and on the job.

The door of the elevator opened with a ding.

“Here’s your floor, sir... um, and madame.  Just follow me, please.” Angel led the way down the hall to a set of double doors at the end.  The walls were covered in a foil wallpaper full of colorful feathers.  The effect was dazzling with light bouncing off of the brilliantly colored designs.  The woodwork was aqua, and potted palms stood like sentries on either side of the doors.  Jessica was tempted to put her sunglasses back on to cut down the glare from the walls.

“Wow, they’re not going to be accused of being bland.  I wonder what the suite is like...”  Angel opened the door for them and indicated that they should enter first.

“Wow.  I know I already said that, but... Wow.”

The room was painted a paler shade of aqua, the draperies a colorful botanical print on silk.  Two red sofas faced each other and a large conch shell fashioned out of wood and painted to imitate the pale shades of the natural specimen was topped by an oval piece of glass, its edges rounded to a safely curving edge.

Across the room was a dining table and chairs in a tropical inspired bamboo, the cushions a complimentary print to the draperies.  It was a stunning room and Jessica had to admire the aesthetics, even if it was a THRUSH property.

Napoleon tipped Angel and, without seeming too intrusive, asked him if he had known a man by the name of Garrison Nealy.  Something made him believe that the bellhop was not involved with THRUSH, and there was no time like the present to get the ball rolling.

“You knew Mr. Nealy?  He was a fine man, very much liked by everyone here.”  Napoleon caught something, a hesitation.

“Everyone?”  Angel looked down, then over his shoulder, as though someone might be behind him, listening.

“No sir, not everyone.  Was he your friend?”  Napoleon nodded.

“Yes, a very good friend.”  The young man breathed a deep breath before continuing.

“Mr. Nealy had some enemies... here, in the hotel.  He was very kind to me, and until I heard the news about his heart attack...’ Angel looked around again.  Something made him think twice about talking to this stranger.

“I shouldn’t say anything more, I need to get back downstairs.”  Napoleon put his hand on the bellhop’s shoulder, stopping him from leaving.

“It’s all right, Angel.  I am a friend, and so is Mr. Kuryakin.  We just want to know what happened to Mr. Nealy.”  That seemed to placate Angel.

“Mr. Hartnell, he was arguing with Mr. Nealy the same day that he... before he had the heart attack.  I couldn’t hear what it was about, but Mr. Hartnell was yelling about something... I’m sorry, I really couldn’t hear, and I didn’t stay long.  I was afraid someone would see me.”

Napoleon and now Jessica were standing close to the worried young man.  It wouldn’t do for him to get scared and quit, or worse to tell someone that questions were being asked.

Jessica smiled at him, a reassuring smile from a beautiful woman.

“Angel, thank you so much.  Garrison was a friend of the family and we’re just trying to help them find the peace to go on now that he’s left them.  You understand, don’t you?”  Napoleon was impressed, and Angel felt better with that explanation.

“Yes, I know I would want to know if he were my brother or ... well, family.  I need to go now. Thank you for the tip, and if there’s anything I can do for you...”

“Thank you Angel.  I’ll be sure the manager knows you’ve been a big help getting us settled in... and only that.” Napoleon winked, letting Angel know the conversation would go no farther.

When he had left the room, Jessica sat down on the sofa and looked around the sumptuous furnishings.

“This is not a bad way to live, Napoleon.  I could get used to this.”  The Solo charm kicked into action as he poured a drink for them, offering a chilled glass of Chardonnay to the attractive blonde.

“What shall we drink to?”  They lifted their glasses just as the door opened and Illya and Stephanie walked into the room.

“Hey, you’re starting to drink already?  I thought you’d at least wait for us.”

Stephanie sidled up to Napoleon and asked for her glass while Illya looked on with a dour expression on his face.

“Anything for you Illya?”  The blond shook his head.  He didn’t have time for this, he wanted to speak to his partner. Alone.

“I think it might behoove us to consider a strategy.  Stephanie and I just met Lionel Hartnell; he is now the head of security and no doubt checks out everyone who walks through the front door.  It is only a matter of time before he discovers who and what we are.”  Napoleon looked more serious now after having heard that.

“How did you run into him?  Was he watching you?”

“I don’t know.  He just appeared as we were walking in from the parking lot.  We did get a look around the ocean front side of the perimeter.  Perhaps we looked out of place... I don’t know.”  Illya didn’t like being sought out by the enemy, even if it was part of the plan. He realized that having an L.A. agent alongside increased the chances of being spotted as UNCLE agents, but he preferred to manufacture the circumstances, not fall prey to them.

“He didn’t suspect anything, Illya.  He was too distracted by looking at me and my... umm...”

Jessica started laughing at what Stephanie was implying.

“Oh my gosh, Steph, did you flash him your booby traps?”

Now Napoleon was confused while Illya seemed to be blushing.

“Stephanie, you might have noticed, is really well endowed.  She has a way of diverting a man’s attention to her, umm... assets.  They go away not knowing what they were thinking, only that they have just seen the nicest set of boobies on the planet.”  Both women were grinning like Cheshires at this little secret weapon.

“Oh, don’t be so prudish boys.  I know for a fact that you, Napoleon Solo, don’t have any qualms at all about sex.  And you, Mr. Russian scientist, are no stranger to seducing fair maidens when you need to.”  Jessica’s tone was serious, although she was still smiling.

“This is not going to work.  Napoleon, is there any way...?”  Illya felt like he might strangle someone, most likely the person who had arranged this pairing of agents.  He and Napoleon would have managed quite well enough without these two female agents in the mix.

“Now, now Illya... Ladies, please forgive my brooding Russian friend.  He just isn’t used to this many people on the job.  Well, maybe it’s just your technique he isn’t used to.”  Napoleon had to admit, these two ladies were going to make the days a little more interesting.  Hopefully they were also very good at their jobs.

Illya was simply frustrated at the possibility of being recognized after only an hour in this establishment.

“I apologize if I appeared to be ... less than welcoming.  You are both professionals, I realize that.  How refreshing to have such liberated women as our working companions.  Oh, Stephanie shall we have a look at our room?”  Now it was his turn to have a little fun.

“Our room?  Wait a minute, no one said we were ...” Illya smiled at the befuddled agent with the impressive figure.  It wasn’t that he wouldn’t enjoy  sharing a bed with her...

“Is that a problem?”  The blond could look so innocent at times, so clueless.

“Napoleon, is he serious?”  Napoleon hadn’t really considered this idea, but now that it had come up, if THRUSH were capable of monitoring the rooms or ...

“You know girls, this is business.  And we’re here as couples.  If that’s not something you can do as part of this role we’re playing then...”  That did it.  No way was Jessica going to let a man say she hadn’t done her job to the fullest.

“Of course we anticipated this, didn’t we Steph.  She’s just being silly.”  Now it was Illya who had to take a deep breath.  He didn’t really want to spend his nights with this woman in his bed.  It would be entirely too... distracting.  Especially now that they’d brought up the whole booby trap thing.  However, it was the wisest way to proceed, all things considered.

“It’s settled then.  Stephanie, shall we?” He pointed to the bedroom on the right after noticing his bags were inside the door.  She got up and walked over to the man she would be calling ‘sweetheart’ for the next few days and planted a kiss on his lips that almost made his knees buckle.  Apparently Stephanie had more than two secret weapons.

Napoleon stood and watched, his mouth dropping slightly as he witnessed the scene of his friend being smothered in a very  passionate looking kiss.  Jessica was watching him as he observed, and wondered what the night would be like after the lights were turned down low.  It was not an altogether unpleasant thought she decided; she didn’t hate the idea.

After settling the bedroom issue the four decided it would be the best course of action to change clothes and ‘enjoy’ the atmosphere.  Illya allowed Stephanie the courtesy of the bathroom while he undressed in the bedroom area and got into a pair of swim trunks and a tee shirt.  It was a common misconception about the slightly built Russian that he was thin and nothing more.  When Stephanie emerged in a one piece suit and cover up, she was taken aback at the obvious musculature on the man she would be sleeping with.

“Nice legs, Kuryakin.”  He smirked at the remark but did not back down.

“We all have our assets, even mine start out in pairs.”  Now it was Stephanie’s turn to blush, and with that began a new appreciation for the boyishly handsome agent.

Napoleon and Jessica, meanwhile, were observing the same type of courtesy as she changed in the bathroom and he in the outer bedroom area.  Jessica opted for a more revealing two piece suit that showed off her athletic build.  She was thin, not overly curvaceous like her friend; Napoleon took an appreciative glance as he met her in his swim trunks and windbreaker.

“You’re very white, Mr. Solo.  It’s a good thing you’ve come out west for a little sunshine.  I bet you New Yorkers never break for suntans.”  It was friendly, if not slightly acerbic.  Jessica had a sharp wit and an even sharper left hook, but with this man she’d try to soften the edges just a little.

Napoleon smiled, he was an expert at innuendo and Jessica was rife with it.  This was going to be an interesting assignment all around.

“Well I suggest we get down to the beach then and start my transformation.  Your tan is quite lovely, by the way.  Do you have a lot of spare time here in L.A.?”  Ouch.  She should have known he’d have a come back.

“I’m busy enough.  We have plenty of work to do with THRUSH trying to move into the entertainment industry and Las Vegas.”  Napoleon appreciated her spark of defiance in the face of what she had thought might be criticism, especially in light of what he knew about her record.

“I’ve read your file Agent Carson, and you can rest assured I have no qualms about your presence here, or our joint venture in this affair.’ He paused, considering that she might have known Garrison Nealy.

“Did you ever work with Garrison?  He was here for several months, I imagine you had occasion to run into him at least.”  She closed her eyes as though searching for a memory.  When she opened them again Napoleon thought he saw the glimmer of a tear.

“Garrison and I were ... close.  Too close, probably, because when he died it took me weeks to get back into work mode.  I just couldn’t believe that he’d had a heart attack, he was the healthiest man I knew.”  Napoleon recognized in that the deeper context of the word ‘knew’.  She was talking about sex.

“I’m sorry for you loss then.  I knew Garrison fairly well, had worked with him several times and was coming here to help him close the door on his investigation.  I was also unbelieving of the heart attack theory.  I’m both distraught and somehow relieved that he wasn’t just a random victim of ill health.  Is that crazy?”

Jessica reached up and put her hand on Napoleon’s cheek, shaking her head as she did so.

“No, I feel the same way.  The man I knew was robust and full of life.  I can’t take my revenge on a bad heart, but I can on the loathsome individual who killed him.  I think we’re on the same page here, Napoleon.”

He took her hand and kissed it, then planted a little kiss on her forehead.  Yes, very much on the same page.

“Let’s see what’s going on around here, shall we...’ Solo opened the door to their room and followed Jessica out into the living room where Illya and Stephanie were waiting.

“Everyone ready?”  Napoleon took the lead and the others followed.  He would have justice for Garrison, and the process would begin now.

:~~~~~:~~~~~:

Lionel Hartnell thought he had recognized the blond man in the parking lot.  Something about his attitude sparked of a man full of himself, a quality that Harnell loathed; he was a squat man with a balding head that was continually red from too much sun exposure.  It had irritated him to see a gorgeous woman at his side, as though there were no limits to what life would bestow on some lucky people.

With that thought in mind the THRUSH chief of security at the Bird of Paradise Hotel sat down with a book full of known UNCLE agents and began the process of looking for the blond man who he now wished to see suffer the indignity of loss.  It was only a matter of time before the photo of Illya Kuryakin would show up in the search.

The two couples made a point of parading through the lobby with a loud conversation between them, something that was sure to gain attention from those within earshot of their banter.  Mr. Tuttle, the man behind the desk, tisked to himself at the display, his own sense of propriety so often rattled by this modern way of flaunting wealth and youth and ... He sighed as he wished to have some of what they possessed, his own desires sublimated by his obedience to the Hierarchy.

The foursome made their way out onto the beach in a very obvious way, alerting Angel that they would return within the hour unless something more interesting caught their attention.  Napoleon hoped that the young man would take notice should they fail to return to their rooms; it never hurt to gain the allegiance of an innocent in these situations.

Someone else was watching as they exited the hotel; Lionel Hartnell had found Illya’s photograph in a recent bulletin that identified him as a Russian agent with a history of destroying THRUSH properties with massive explosions as well as a ruthless disregard for THRUSH lives.

Hartnell smiled to himself; he would enjoy taking out this one, just like he’d eliminated that other UNCLE agent, Neely.  He withdrew a vial and a small needle attached to a flesh colored bit of putty, tucking it into his jacket pocket as he rose from his desk.  Turning on the monitor for the hallway outside of Kuryakin’s room he watched as two couples entered the elevator.  When the door opened Lionel was waiting in the alcove behind the concierge desk, his stubby form barely visible to anyone glancing in that direction.

Jessica had seen him watching as they walked through the lobby.

“Napoleon, I think we’re on their radar; that bastard Hartnell is spying on us.”  Napoleon continued to smile while he replied.

“That’s just great.  I guess we aren’t going to have to wait very long for this to spill out into the open.’ He caught up to Illya and Stephanie, pulling on the blond’s arm to get his attention.

“Hartnell was watching us in the lobby.  Do you think he’s already figured out who we are?”  Illya was certain of it.

It didn’t take long for Hartnell to catch up to the four UNCLE agents; he was certain that all of them were agents by now and yet his particular ire was directed at the blond, Kuryakin.  Garrison Neely had been blond as well, athletic and handsome... He hated these men with their California looks and easy manner with women.  He now recognized the other blonde in the group; he had seen her with Neely on more than one occasion, something he easily remembered.  Blondes were his particular source of envy, and although the others had not been enemies of THRUSH, he now felt a surge of importance as he considered his record burgeoning with the number of UNCLE agents he could claim to have eliminated.

No one need know about the others.

As Hartnell approached the four agents Illya was immediately on guard.  He had known from the beginning, as had the others that this was the man responsible for Neely’s death.  Napoleon had expressed a particular desire to see the man brought to justice, regardless of how that might happen.  Illya knew the man was dangerous, and a prickly feeling at the base of his neck told him that the two of them were about to have an encounter of a most unpleasant nature.

“Hullo there Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin.  I see you’re taking in our beautiful beach here at Bird of Paradise.  If you’d like I can give the ladies complimentary facials in our salon and, perhaps have a drink or two with you gentlemen, my treat.”  A toothy smile could not disguise the obvious attempt to separate the men from the women.  Surely he didn’t consider himself capable of taking on both Napoleon and Illya.

“That’s a very generous offer, but I think we’ll just see what the beach has to offer for now.  Perhaps later, before dinner?”  It was an invitation to dance, and Hartnell took it.  Like other pathological liars and killers, he considered himself smarter than everyone else.

“Mr. Solo, that is an excellent idea.  Drinks before dinner then, say around five o’clock?”  All four nodded their agreement and Illya extended his hand to pat the man on the arm and slip a small microphone chip beneath his jacket collar.  After placing it and as he was lower his arm, Harnell grabbed it and shook his hand vigorously.  Illya thought he felt a small prick in the center of his hand, withdrawing it from the grasp of the beefy one that held it.

The drug would act slowly, accelerating with intense physical activity.  That was what had doomed Garrison Neely; his evening swim had caused the deadly serum to speed through his system straight to his heart.  As Illya withdrew his hand he was aware of the slight stinging sensation where the small needle had pricked his hand.  He looked at it as Hartnell walked back towards the hotel, certain that he had just been poisoned in the same manner as Garrison.

“I hate to cause any alarm, but I believe that man just poisoned me.”  Napoleon, Jessica and Stephanie all looked at him, each of them vying for a piece of his arm as they pulled it out and looked at the tiny red spot on his palm.

“That son of a bitch... I swear...” Jessica was furious for the man to have accomplished his task while surrounded by four UNCLE agents.

“Illya, how...? Oh, when he took your hand. Why did you allow him to do that?”  Illya cocked his head to one side, not sure he was hearing correctly.

“I didn’t allow it, he grabbed my hand after I had placed that microphone on his jacket.  The L.A. office has the antidote; they developed it after isolating the poison in Garrison’s system.’ He looked around at the other three, already a slight feeling of something foreign was evident in his body.

“I really do not feel well, however, and must consider that the formula might have been slightly altered.”  With that he faltered slightly, caught on all sides by the three who surrounded him.

“Jessica, call your office and get that antidote here on the double.  And have them send a doctor along with it.  Illya, you don’t look good, tovarisch.  Let’s get back to the hotel...”  Illya was shaking his head.

“Walking will cause it to move more quickly through my system.  I should stay here until the antidote arrives.  You go and deal with Hartnell, we have him dead to rights now.  He’s our killer, without a doubt.”  Stephanie put her towel down on the sand and she and Napoleon set up their big beach umbrella.  Illya laid down slowly, his head beginning to pound and his heart rate accelerating at an abnormal speed.

“Stay here with him, Stephanie.  Jessica and I are going in and relieving Mr. Hartnell of his position... possibly his life.”  Napoleon gave his friend one last long look before heading back to the hotel.  If anything happened to Illya it would be Hartnell’s last day on earth.

Jessica’s call to the L.A. Headquarters received a quick response, and a team was on the way with specific direction to where Illya and Stephanie were waiting.  Their arrival would be as unobtrusive as possible to avoid alerting Hartnell or any of the other THRUSH personnel to their arrival.  Illya was sweating profusely, his heart rate well over one hundred.  Stephanie tried to keep him cool, hoping to forestall any more danger than was already present.

Napoleon and Jessica returned to the hotel as though nothing had happened, strolling through the lobby holding hands and making conversation out of nonsense.  Their target was the office marked Hotel Security; it was almost a guarantee that Hartnell was monitoring everything and would see them coming.  Their only hope was if their act was convincing enough he wouldn’t realize that Illya had already been stricken.

Mr. Tuttle watched them pass by, his allegiance to THRUSH now arguing with his intense dislike of the stubby Hartnell and his unpolished character.  Truth be told he loathed the man and wouldn’t mourn his passing.  He made a decision: let the UNCLE agents have him.  Not even Central would make a fuss if Lionel Hartnell were no longer in its employ.

As Stephanie and Napoleon approached his door, Hartnell was waiting on the other side, ready to launch an attack should it be necessary.  They didn’t seem to be bothered by anything, but then one could not trust an UNCLE agent, regardless of appearances.

Napoleon knocked, a friendly knock that suggested he was just stopping by.  As the door opened Hartnell was met by a smiling couple who seemed to want nothing more than to confirm their drinks date for the evening.

“Oh, well... umm, that wasn’t necessary but...’ Napoleon edged in a little closer while Jessica took another look down the corridor.  No one was watching so she too moved into the room.  They were backing Hartnell into a corner, out of reach of his stash of mean little tricks and woefully outclassed by the two UNCLE agents.

“You have been very very bad, Lionel.  We know you killed Garrison Neely, and now you’ve tried to kill Mr. Kuryakin.  UNCLE doesn’t take kindly to that type of behavior, and I think we’re going to need to do something about it.”

Hartnell look at Napoleon and then to Jessica.  Were they insane?  They were in his hotel, and THRUSH would crush them.  He’d already taken care of the blond, that Russian menace.  Central was going to thank him for that, he was sure of it.

“Do you really think you can get away with it, Solo?  Oh yes, I know who you are, and you Miss Carson.  My people will...”

“Your people let us walk down this hall unimpeded.  I don’t think they like you very much, Lionel.  We have a team outside right now, and they’re going to take you in.  They’re going to interrogate you and find out what type of mischief you’ve been up to besides murdering people.  How does that sound?”

Hartnell quivered where he stood.  He was afraid now, afraid that no one would help him and sorry that he had been such a mean SOB to all of the employees here.  At least he had the satisfaction of killing Kuryakin.

“The Russian will die, you know.  You can’t save him.”  A smug look on his face was wiped clean when Jessica slapped him.  Not satisfied with that she raised her fist and delivered a wicked left hook that knocked him out.

“Nice job, Miss Carson.  I bet that’s going to hurt though.”  Napoleon was more impressed with this woman every time she spoke or acted.  Too bad the mission was just about over.

A warbling sound interrupted his thoughts as Jessica opened her communicator.

“Carson here... yeah, bring it in.  He’s ready for transport.”

Napoleon gave her a look that asked for details.

“Our people are here and they’re coming in to take Hartnell away, probably for a very long time.”  With that taken care of, Napoleon headed back out to the beach where his partner and Stephanie were being attended to by the medical team.  Illya still didn’t look too good, but the antidote had been administered and assurances were given that the blond agent would be fine.  He still needed to come with them and let Medical check him out thoroughly.  It was one of the rare occasions when he didn’t protest.  The same drug had killed Garrison, he didn’t intend to suffer the same consequence.

Jessica and Stephanie wrapped up the details inside, leaving Napoleon to wander once more to the same spot where he had last seen Garrison Neely; dead on the beach from the drug given to him by Lionel Hartnell.  It had been close with Illya, but his friend would recover thanks to the work done as a result of the second autopsy.

“You can go in peace now Garrison, we have the man who killed you.”

:~~~~~:~~~~~:

It was a matter of a couple of days before Napoleon and Illya could head back to New York.  They had dinner with Stephanie and Jessica, both of whom had been slightly disappointed to never have a shot at those shared bedrooms.  Oh well, another day perhaps.

On the plane back home, Napoleon opened up a file that had been handed to him as a parting gift.  According to Hartnell’s confession while under the influence of an UNCLE truth drug, he had confessed to killing five other people, men and women, all of them blondes.

“It wasn’t even about THRUSH or UNCLE, he just hates blondes.  I guess that’s a bump in the road for that hair color slogan.”  Illya canted his head, unsure of the reference.

“What slogan?  I am tired Napoleon, please do not send coded messages.”

“Blondes have more fun. Surely you’ve heard it.”  Illya shook his head just as a stewardess was stopping to ask for their drink order.

“Hello gentlemen.  What can I get for you sir?”  She was looking directly at Illya, and he smiled at her seductively as he responded.

“Vodka... spaciba.”  Her heart fluttered and she blushed slightly.  Napoleon was astounded, Illya never did stuff like that.

“Very well sir, vodka it is.”  She went away without taking the other man’s order.

“Hey, she just ignored me.  What are you doing, anyway, speaking Russian?”  Illya just smiled.

Blonds could have more fun any time they wanted.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Fabulous follow up to the original story, with nice flirtations. (loved the idea of the booby traps) and angst. So glad you were able to add this to the day's festivities!

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Excellent follow-up, thank you for writing it.

Also, may I compliment you on the use of the word 'behooves'? A friend and I like to discuss words, especially archaic ones, and we had a bet about who could use it in general conversation first. (I won.)

[laurose8.livejournal.com]

Thank you for an excellent fic. April would be proud of these two women. I am rather sorry for them, but perhaps there'll be other cases. Stephanie's recruitment is very canonesque.

Love the way Thrush decides to cut Hartnell loose - and that's canonesque, too.

As was naming it the Bird of Paradise Hotel. (Hoping the feathers were dyed chicken feathers.)

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Nice follow up. I look forward to reading about the LA girls from UNCLE.