PicFic Challenge for 10/7/14 - Terminus, Pt. 4

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Terminus,  Pt  1 -- Terminus,  Pt  2 -- Terminus,  Pt  3

The drive to the Dewdrop Motel was done in a roundabout fashion to give them plenty of time to finalize their plans. When Napoleon pulled the car into a parking place at the motel, an attractive woman who appeared to be in her early forties immediately came out to greet them.

"Welcome. I'm Karen Dixon. Stuart called and told me that you folks would be here this morning. Said that Mister Kuryakin was feeling poorly. Well, I've got everything ready for you. Follow me."

The blond agent spoke softly before getting out of the car.

"The local contact isn't very discrete, is he?"

Taking the keys from the ignition, Napoleon shook his head.

"To say the very least, Mark. Play along - answer to Kuryakin and let's get you settled before I head to meet whatever's waiting for me at the water tower."

"It feels bad to let you knowingly walk into a trap like this, mate."

"I know, but we've got two things that I hope will give us an edge. One, whoever this THRUSH chief is, he likes to toy around and torture instead of outright kill."

Reaching over the front seat, Mark fished up his bag to go in with him.

"Your first point isn't terribly reassuring. What the second?"

"Our partners are somewhere in the background. Illya's following up on one of the leads from the autopsies. Both men had leeches attached to them."

"So, he's looking for where they might have come from. I must admit, number two more than makes up for number one."

Napoleon's attitude shifted and he wore a broad smile as he got to his feet and began to follow the woman.

"Dixon? So are you related to Stuart?"

"First cousins. You'll run into a lot of Dixons around these parts. Anyone that you run into, you can pick one of two names and have a real good chance of being right. Most folks that aren't Dixons are Hudsons."

A muffled exclamation from Mark followed by him swatting his arm had her changing the subject.

"Mosquitos are real bad this time of year. And big. Why, they practically try to carry you off to snack on later. But believe it or not, they aren't so bad here compared to closer to the swamp."

"If the insects are worse they, I'd guess everyone gives the swamp a wide berth."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you, Mister Solo, but nope. There's a crazy man actually lives in a place practically surrounded by the swamp."

"Please, call me Napoleon. Is the man in the swamp a local?"

"No, not even close. He styles himself like he's some sort of Spanish nobility. Like I said, crazy. You won't need to worry about him though. He doesn't leave his place much. And here we are. Room's not fancy, but it's comfortable and I've had all the showers updated. Plenty of towels, but if you need more, just call the office."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Karen - please. Keep saying ma'am and I'll start looking around for my mother. Here's your keys - I'll leave you to get settled in. Hope you get to feeling better, Mister Kuryakin. Try the shower - a hot shower with our mineral water might do you a world of good."

Mark shook his head. Her assumption that he was Illya was ludicrous, but might work to their advantage. Since they couldn't be sure if their room was bugged or not, they stuck to their assigned roles.

"I think I'm going to take a drive around the area - get the lay of the land. Why don't you grab a shower and then nap until I come back, then we'll find somewhere to grab a bite."

"Sounds good. Try not to get lost."

Giving Mark a 'you've been hanging around Illya too much' look, Napoleon scooped up one of the room keys before heading for the door.

"Ha, ha - funny man. Don't give up your day job."

Mark waited until he heard the car drive away, then looked around the room. After standing around in the sticky heat, the thought of the shower was appealing. Decision made, Mark quickly stripped and headed into the bathroom. He was pleasantly surprised by how large the shower was - most motel showers reminded him more of phone booths with water added. The subway tile was gleaming white and the frosted glass door was equally spotless.

Unwrapping a bar of soap and placing it in the soap holder, Mark then grabbed a washcloth before turning on the water, adjusting the temperature before stepping in. Taking a moment to enjoy the feel of the water, he next soaped up his washcloth and began scrubbing his face and neck. A loud metallic click drew his attention immediately. Rinsing the soap from his face, he pulled on the door so he could check on the source of the noise he'd heard - but the door wouldn't budge.







Another noise, similar to one made by old radiators in the winter, came from nearby. Seconds later, Mark began to feel a tingling on his skin wherever the water was hitting. He swiftly turned the water off, but it was too late. He was covered and had no way out of the shower stall to get away from it. Pressing on the thick glass, he scolded himself for not having paid closer attention to how very thick the glass was.

The tingling sensation was growing more intense, but the fuzzy feeling creeping over his brain was more worrisome. He didn't feel weak or like he was going to collapse, he simply was losing track of what he was thinking about.

Less than three minutes later, Mark was still standing with his hands pressed against the wet glass. When the metallic click sounded again, the door was pulled open, but not by Mark. He remained standing as he had been, a blank expression on his face. The two men now in the bathroom with Mark were both wearing protective gear and were careful not to come in contact with the water themselves. Mark moved as they directed him to with no resistance.

As one of the men started to wrap Mark in a bathrobe, the other picked up the telephone.

"Señor Bedoya? Yes, sir. The test worked perfectly. We have Kuryakin."

tbc . . .