The Gazebo in the Garden - Picfic Tuesday - Jan 13th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Staring out of the window of the hotel, Illya was reminded of his time in England. The grounds had the vague appearance of the formal gardens found at English stately houses; albeit on a much smaller scale.

“Kopeck for your thoughts, Tovarisch.”

“I was just contemplating that gazebo,” he told his partner, as he gestured towards the structure. “I’m hoping that G. Emory Partridge* isn’t involved in this affair.”

“I very much doubt that he’s our informant.”

U.N.C.L.E. had been contacted by a man who was claiming to have ‘information of great interest’ regarding THRUSH operations. He’d left a date, time and place, and had insisted that he would talk only to Solo and Kuryakin. Naturally, the agents assumed they were being drawn into a trap, so had arrived at the specified hotel a day early. Following a good look around the building, they’d found nothing to arouse their suspicions.

“I’m going to check out the garden,” Illya informed his partner. “I don’t like the look of that statue.”

Napoleon crossed the room and regarded the object. He quite liked it. Whoever the sculptor had been, they were very adept with the female form; especially the more significant attributes.

“I’m sure it’s just a statue,” he replied, with a shrug. “But, I suppose we can’t be too careful. I’ll wait here, and start getting ready for dinner.”

Solo stayed at the window for a while, watching the dark clouds gathering in the distance. It seemed that there would be a storm later on. The sight of his partner emerging into the garden caught his eye. It was fascinating to watch Illya work. The one thing the Russian specifically wanted to look at was the one thing he initially kept away from. He covered almost every inch of the garden, looking for traps and hidden entrances. He never stopped moving, checking every nook and cranny, his hand constantly hovering close to his gun.

Eventually, Kuryakin’s attention returned to the statue. He glanced up at the window of their room, knowing instinctively that Napoleon was observing him. Reaching out a hand, Illya touched the face of sculpture. Solo had a clear view, but could not have explained what he witnessed. One minute, Illya was touching the sculpture, and the next he was lying, motionless, on the ground.

Napoleon was running before he knew it, and he reached the statue in less than a minute. Only, Illya was no longer there. Searching the grounds, and the building, he could find no trace of his partner. Pulling out his communicator, he activated it and attempt to establish contact. From across the garden, Solo heard the unmistakable beeping of Illya’s device. He followed the sound and found the communicator lying in a flowerbed, front of the gazebo.

“ILLYA!” he called out. “This is not the time for a game of hide and seek.”

Switching channels, Napoleon called Waverly and told him of Kuryakin’s disappearance.

“I haven’t the first idea what has happened Sir,” he said, his voicing clearly indicating his concern. “I could use some help on this.”

“Very well, Mr Solo,” the Old Man agreed. “I shall send Mr Slate your way. In the meantime, I suggest you continue your search. We have to assume that this is linked to our supposed informant.”

“Yes Sir, Solo out.”

Tucking the communicator away, Napoleon glared at the gazebo. It was probably a coincidence, but it was as good a place to start as any.



To be continued on the next picfic Tuesday. (I still haven’t learned my lesson about WIPs)


*The Gazebo in the Maze Affair

Comments

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

At this point in time, your guess is as good as mine. I really shouldn't start multi-part stories, because I usually have no idea where they're going :-)