"The Carpe Dentium Affair" for PicFic Tuesday prompt #2~10/7 PART 1

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

      

It was possibly the strangest assignment of Napoleon Solo’s career with U.N.C.L.E. He had to force himself not to let his jaw drop as he listened intently to Alexander Waverly as he spoke at their early morning briefing.

It was Friday, of all days and the Number 1 agent of Section II had plans for a romantic evening with a recent staff edition, Samantha Lynn Schubert, a nurse in the Medical Section.

It was all mapped out in his head….dinner at Tavern on the Green, a moonlight carriage ride in Central Park, then if he played his cards right, a trip back to her place for something much more intimate.

He’d had an encounter with her in the closet in the Map Room and that was all he needed to know, just some innocent necking mind you. However, she was willing beauty with golden blonde hair, deep hazel eyes and dimpled cheeks, and built...well, just right to say the least.

In their brief encounter he discovered she hated to be called Sam...no, only Samantha would do for her.

“Mr. Solo, ahem,” Waverly cleared his throat. “Are you listening?”

Napoleon straightened up in his seat. “Yes sir, you were saying there’s been a series of assaults around the city...but wouldn’t they be under the purview of the police department?” He mentally reminded himself to cancel his date.

“Normally one would think as such young man, but these so-called assaults fall under the category of ‘unusual.’ It seems these victims are not only assaulted at gunpoint, they are drugged with a sleep dart and when they awaken, they find nothing has been taken except a single tooth….a left bottom molar to be precise.”

Napoleon’s brow furrowed as he thought for a moment.

“Could they all be operatives or assets of some sort? We’ve used false teeth and caps...the Soviets, STASI all use caps to hide cyanide pills.”

“Not in this case. Every victim, eleven of them to be precise, has had their actual tooth forcibly removed, and not in a professional manner I might add.  The teeth were literally ripped from their jaws.”

“Hmm, other than losing a tooth, is there anything else the victims have in common?”

“None that we can ascertain as of yet. That I will leave in your capable hands to discover. You’ll find their full dossiers, and photographs here.” Waverly tossed a folder onto the circular table, and giving it a spin, rotated it for the documents to stop in front of his agent.

“At present all except one of the victims have simply been drugged before the so-called extraction took place...all except the victim whose photo is on the top of the pile.”

He waited for Napoleon to open the folder, not really preparing him for the first image that met his eyes.

It was of a dark-haired woman lying in a pool of blood...she was obviously dead.

“That photo Mr. Solo, is of someone you may recognize. Her name is Susan Power of our cryptology section. Like the others, she is missing the same molar.   It is being presumed that since she was a trained UNCLE employee; she may have resisted her attacker with more, shall we say...fervor.  Her personal revolver is missing.”

Napoleon stared at the gruesome photograph, not saying a word.  He’d dated the girl not two weeks ago.  She was smart, vivacious and very sexy.

He tried to let his visions of her naked in bed, offering herself to him so willingly.  That made the shock of her death all the more horrible to him.  There was nothing he could think of to soften the blow.

Napoleon shook that feeling from psyche, sublimating it as best he could. His anger rose in place of it, though he kept that in check as well.

He left wht conference room, ignoring the many employees going about their business in the grey corridors as he walked to the elevator.

George Dennell was the only one standing inside as the door opened, and as Napoleon stepped in he automatically pressed the button for the floor where his office was located.

“Gee Napoleon,” George said in a bit too chipper of a voice,” I just heard about Susan Power. That’s really awful isn’t it?”

Silence was George’s response, and he was smart enough to cop on that Solo didn’t want to talk about it. He guessed Napoleon had been assigned to investigate Susan's death.

“Ding.” The elevator doors opened.

As the senior agent stepped out to the floor, Dennell called out to him.

“I hope you get who did it Napoleon.”

Solo turned to face the man.” I will George. I promise you that…” the doors closed, ending the conversation…” and I promise her.”

He headed to his office and once inside he looked the doors, and released his rage; slamming his fist on his desk. Napoleon grabbed the nearest object, his crystal ashtray and hurled it against the wall; shattering it into countless pieces.

He huffed, now annoyed at himself for losing his cool, and picked up the received to the phone on his desk; promptly calling housekeeping.

When the office was back to normal, including a replacement ashtray for his desk; Napoleon sat down, and began to flip through the dossiers.

Page after page revealed nothing, there was nothing common between them at all.  Well there was...the fact that they all lived in New York city, but they were scattered all over the place, and came from different walks of life...from middle class to the very wealthy.

None of it made sense. They’d been attacked in different locations and varying times of the day.  No witnesses of course…

This was going to be a long night, and he called one of the secretaries to get him a carafe of coffee and a sandwich from the Commissary.

He was on his fourth cup of black coffee when he saw it. Travel history...every victim had been in the U.K within the last six months.  Now he had to backtrack and find out their itineraries.

Hours later the final pieces fit into this very strange puzzle.

Every victim, including Susan Powers had been in London, though their length of stays and the dates varied. It was where they stayed that was the last piece…

And at the moment someone near and dear to him happened to be in London right now.

Napoleon picked up his communicator.

“Overseas relay- Illya Kuryakin please.”

The familiar chirp called the Russian from his sleep with a moan. “This had better be good,” Illya mumbled as he dug himself out from under his blanket.

“Are you alone tovarisch?”

“Of course. Why would I... nevermind. Now why have you called me at such a ridiculous hour. It is three o’clock in the morning.”

“My aren’t we crabby?”

“Napoleon I have not slept in nearly two days; please what do you want? I swear if this is one your “I am bored” calls, you will pay dearly.”

“Easy chum, this is strictly business.”

Solo filled Illya in on his assignment, though leaving out some details and lastly he spoke of Susan’s death.

“I am sorry to hear that my friend, though did not know her. How can I help?”  Illya was wide awake now, wrapping himself in his heavy terry cloth robe.

“I need you to check out the Connaught Hotel. It’s on Carlo's Place in the Mayfair section of London.

“Hmm, a convenient coincidence as that is where I happen to be staying at the moment.”  Illya turned on the light, revealing the dark wood paneling on the walls. He walked over to a red leather armchair and sat down, pouring himself a glass of vodka from a bottle on a nearby table.

“Really?” Napoleon eyes went wide. “How did you manage an expensive hotel like that with Accounting?  He sounded a bit miffed.

“Guest quarters are full at headquarters because of a regional meeting. There are no beds available in Medical as there has been an outbreak of a virulent flu.  There is some sort of convention in the city and all of the reasonable hotels are booked solid, so accounting had no choice but to approve the Connaught."

“Now if you were in with the girls there, one of them would have surely offered for you a stay at their place.  Would have made for a more interesting visit, if you know what I mean?” Napoleon chuckled.

“Will you please get your mind out of the bedroom for once? Now if you let me get back to sleep, I will investigate  your list when I am fully awake and a bit more refreshed. Send your list of names and the dates they were here to headquarters. Now goodnight Napoleon… and my condolences. I am aware you recently dated Miss Powers.”

“Thanks tovarisch, and sorry for waking you. I’ll see you soon. Solo out.”

Napoleon closed his communicator, satisfied  his partner would get the ball rolling for him until he arrived. It was time to make his traveo arrangements to London.

He looked at this wristwatch; it was just past ten o’clock...too late to catch a commercial flight.  Napoleon lifted the telephone receiver, contacting Transportation to get authorization to use the U.N.C.L.E. Learjet. He pulled a suitcase from the closet he kept stored there for just such travel. After a quick trip to the locker room downstairs for a shower, he'd head off to the garage for a car. It wouldn't take him very long to drive to the airport, not this time of night...

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Comments

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

I was stumped by that second prompt and wondered how a story could be woven from it. Fine story so far, but you may have one part incorrect. Shall I ask what lead you to believe that Nurse Schubert is a Map Room kind of girl? lol!!! Thanks for giving her such fine attributes, btw.