The Starting Gate Affair - part 4

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon Solo hadn’t always been a covert agent, but he had always had an element of subterfuge in his life.  The stint in Korea had perhaps been the most real thing he had ever done; there was no room for anything but reality there, no matter how much he and his fellow soldiers had wished to be elsewhere.  Clara had been real, but his feelings were not intense enough to subvert his devotion to UNCLE.

So it was that now, in his late twenties, he was already an expert at playing a part, and the one he assumed now fit him perfectly.  As Worthington Pike he was not only wealthy, but a war hero who had survived the horror of Korea.  Posing as an heir to an obscure fortune, it was part of his cover to exploit his war experiences and garner the admiration of a social circle not always easily penetrated by unknown outsiders.

The first order of business was to establish himself with a lavish party at which he would introduce his newest venture: Dawn’s Tomorrow.  Illya would of course appear, hopefully to charm some of the guests out of their money with his (now) huge blue eyes and stories of escaping the Nazis and the Communists in order to follow his dream of riding for a living.  Napoleon wondered how many would actually believe this fairytale, but he wasn’t betting against his younger partner.  If any women showed up with money to burn they would most likely fall prey to the beguiling innocence of the Russian.

The main target of this play was the THRUSH pawn Miranda Denault.

The poor woman seemed to have gotten herself into this particular mess by losing money on horses, and in spite of her past had announced her intention to invest in a race horse.  THRUSH, it seemed, had lent her money to cover her gambling debts when her father cut her off from the trust she was going through in record speed.  When she was offered a way out by accepting this loan with just a few conditions, Miranda jumped on it. 

What THRUSH hoped to gain from this had been a point of some curiosity to the UNCLE personnel who watched such things.  When it was noticed that several other people with similar social ties had shown up on the radar as ‘clients’ of this financial entity, the alarms had sounded and Section I had been informed.  It appeared that THRUSH was intending to invade the world of thoroughbred racing in what would look like legitimate financial dealings with people from the right social circles.  It was, however, an insider’s position that the hierarchy was hoping to gain in order to subvert the honest earnings of the sport and funnel them into THRUSH’s coffers.

As Napoleon mused on the details, he was familiarizing himself with the house that had been provided for his new identity.  Located on Long Island and fitted out with all of the amenities necessary for wowing his new friends, the handsome agent complimented himself on how well he fit into this new environment.  Conversely, he thought of his partner and the nights he was spending sleeping on a cot in the tack room next to the stables at Harewood Farms. 

The doorbell interrupted Napoleon’s comparison of fortunes, and he hurried to find out if news of his arrival had piqued someone’s interest prematurely.  Instead of a new friend he was surprised to see his old one, his partner, standing at the door in his loose fitting clothes; a reminder to the slightly older man of the weight Illya had lost for this assignment.

“Illya, what are you doing here?  Come on in, check out my…”

Something was wrong, it showed in Illya’s posture and the look in his eyes.

“No, Napoleon I am not here to take a tour.  Something has happened that needs attention.  I believe that someone has shown up who might be able to recognize me.”

That was enough to get Napoleon’s attention centered on his partner.

“Who?  Is it someone at Harewood’s, one of the staff…?”

Illya shook his head, a motion that caused his hair to fall back into its normal shape rather than remain swept back off his forehead.

“No, he’s an associate of Mr. Harewood’s son-in-law.  I don’t think Anthony is aware of the man’s ties to THRUSH, rather this individual has managed to infiltrate Sturgess’ company somehow.  I don’t know how it all goes together, but somehow…’

Illya stopped, his eyes reflecting the concern with this new development.

“I ran across this fellow in England, when I was with the London office.  He’s rather well placed in regards to his family and station, something that puts him easy reach of the people THRUSH are looking to mingle with here.”

Napoleon grabbed Illya by the arm and led him from the entry and into a room, a study, and motioned for him to sit down.  The chair enveloped him obligingly as the Russian took his seat, suddenly weary as he sank into the down filled cushions within the glove soft leather.

“You look tired, Illya.  Are you hungry?  I can get you something to eat if you like.”

The wan looking young man would have loved to sit down to meal without concern for his weight.  He wondered briefly if it would matter if just once, just tonight…

“I had better not, but thank you.  I am still a pound away from the weight I agreed to, although I’m beginning to think that my body won’t accommodate it.  I seem to have reached the limit, something that may impede this entire operation.”

Napoleon was concerned about all of this, his partner’s weight and now the fact that someone from Illya’s past might put him in danger.

“Do you think this person…’

Illya interjected…

“Parker.  Ian Parker. I don’t think he did, not today.  But, he did see me and… I think it’s only a matter of time if he starts thinking about it.”

Illya let his head fall back onto the chair as he closed his eyes.  He was tired today; he had been up since five A.M. and had neglected to eat anything before the workout with Dawn’s Tomorrow.  After speaking with Mr. Waverly and Harewood, Illya had ridden back to the stables where he let one of the hands take care of Tom while he headed to his cot and a nap.  That was interrupted when Anthony Decker and Ian Parker showed up.  Decker was showing off the stables and its tenants to his acquaintance, and was pleased to include Illya in the tour.

“How do you know him, Illya?  How is he related to THRUSH?”

Illya was aware of his stomach growling and his eyes needing sleep.  This chair was making it very difficult to stay awake, but necessity beckoned to the conscientious agent.

“I had occasion to do some surveillance on him.  He was involved with an import business that was a THRUSH front, and to which he was paying large sums of money for merchandise that had been stolen from a legitimate museum in Italy.”

Just then the phone rang, and Napoleon reached across the desk to answer it.  As he answered a few questions from one of the people on his guest list, Illya laid his head back again and drifted off to sleep.  It was a few minutes before Napoleon extricated himself from the conversation, only to find his friend snoozing contentedly.

Napoleon decided against waking him and instead headed for the kitchen intending to prepare a light meal for the both of them.  Illya wouldn’t turn down something like crab cakes and salad, and with all of the ingredients at his fingertips, Mr. Solo set to work.

Illya awoke more hungry than before, and was delighted to smell the aromas wafting in from the kitchen.  This house was just large enough to impress people, but designed so that the kitchen was accessible from the room he was currently in.  Having entered this room from the foyer, which was the central access to the other rooms on this floor, the kitchen was just beyond and bordered on the other side by an informal breakfast room.  The dining room was at the end of the main hall, connecting the two sides of the house like the end of a U shape and also available from the kitchen’s other doorway.

Illya pulled himself up from the chair and made his way through the small passageway and into the kitchen, where he found his friend busily plating up his culinary creation.  Napoleon had a tea towel thrown over one shoulder, handy for wiping away food stuffs and whatever else needed cleaning away.  Illya was humored by the sight of his normally meticulous partner scurrying around in the kitchen, his hair furiously fighting its way onto the wide forehead as Napoleon made his way from oven to sink to refrigerator… it was quite something, really.

“It smells really good, Napoleon.  What have you made?”

The brown haired young man paused answer and then motioned with his head for Illya to pick up the plates and follow him to the table that was located in front of the large bay window.  The banquette style seating was in the formation of the windows, and the oak table situated perfectly for casual dining such as this.

“Grab those, will ya… I’ve got the drinks.”

Illya obeyed, his stomach leaping for joy at the prospect of a meal that wasn’t built around raw vegetables and proteinized powder.

Napoleon had a sudden rush of pity and guilt that was all bundled together with the sight of his thin partner.  Illya was slender by nature, but this… Napoleon was certain that if his shirt were removed, Illya’s ribs would be pronounced beneath only muscle and skin.  There wasn’t an ounce of fat on the man, and that suddenly seemed like a bad idea. The two men made it to the table and slid into the banquette. 

“Here, you need to eat.  I can’t believe you’ve lost all of that weight.”

Illya wondered if Napoleon had ever been hungry… truly, agonizingly hungry with no prospect of a meal.

“You know, I was this thin for much of my life.  It was only the sumptuous meals I encountered in Paris and then London that put the extra pounds on my body.  Honestly…’

He didn’t continue.  There was no point in going over the past, in highlighting what had been so difficult.

“Thank you for this, Napoleon.  I will need to work it off later, perhaps, but for now… bon appetit.”

Illya was grateful; to his friend and to the crab that gave up his life for this meal.

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Great chapter! The photo, hmmm. pre-cap days I think.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Yes, McCallum au natural.

[svetlanacat4.livejournal.com]

Lovely chapter about the two friends... Love Napoleon feeding his partner... But this Ian Parker... Mmmm...

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Yes we'll need to keep an eye on that fellow.

[jkkitty.livejournal.com]

Seems like maybe losing all that weight is going to be a major problem, and now someone from his past. Napoleon's not going to like leaving his partner out of his sight.

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Napoleon is ready to be Illya's wingman, guarding against enemy attacks. What a guy ;)

[spotsycool.livejournal.com]

Poor Illya... he may be used to starving to death, but it still isn't a pleasant experience. Hmm, this guy from his past... I smell trouble.

Ahh, nice baby McCallum photo. :)

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

I thought that picture looked appropriately lean, and the beard stubble doesn't hurt anything, either.

[rosywonder.livejournal.com]

Hmm beard stubble. Nice. Am just catching up with the story and enjoying it of course. The serialised structure is good as you say and even the great Charles Dickens published his stories in this format originally, I believe. I know next to nothing about American Horse racing, except of course visiting the Kentucky Derby course, but am willing to be educated. He needs to eat less fruit in the afternoon of course, which, as my PT assures me will put on weight!

[yelizaveta52.livejournal.com]

Very good start. Looking forward to reading more. Loving the pics.