Tripping Away Part 3- PicFic 1/27

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Part 1
Part 2
:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:~~~~~:

The second day in the Bahamas started out with sunny skies and a brisk breeze coming in from the Atlantic.  Breakfast was served on the large portico in a section bordered by a high hedge of brightly hued bougainvillea.  It formed a natural wall against the incoming winds that were part of coastal living.

The large table seated eight, but on this morning it would be the Waverlys and their four Section II agents.  Louis Sterns and Rahjesh Bhatt, the men from Section III, were considered on duty and maintaining security around the house.  Their breakfast had been at a slightly earlier hour.

Sitting down around the fully laden table, each person admired the array of fresh fruit that accompanied the Eggs Benedict being ladled onto each plate.  In spite of any misgivings about conspicuous consumption, the Russian among them had decided to not eat would be a foolish form of protest and entirely too wasteful for his socialist aesthetic.

Constance Waverly delighted in entertaining and her husband’s corps of agents was no exception in her pursuit of the title hostess.  She especially enjoyed having such charming company here and was particularly fond of Mr. Solo.  This was a man who knew how to charm and cajole, making the best of a situation and putting everyone at ease.  The young woman, Miss Dancer, she found very attractive and wondered if her British partner, Mr. Slate, wasn’t inclined to think so as well.

Mr. Kuryakin... now he was a puzzle.  Handsome in a boyish way that reminded her of a younger brother who had not survived the influenza epidemic; that was the reason she had a lump in her throat when he was present, or perhaps not.  Mr. Kuryakin sometimes looked as though he bore the weight of the world.  She wondered if that were possible.

The conversation was light and breeze, much like the morning itself.  Mr. Waverly did not want to discuss UNCLE business in front of his wife, she was here on holiday and he intended to keep her mind free of anything related to his work.  She worried about him, and in this place he was determined that she should be free of that.

In spite of all good intentions to remain free of work related conversation, after the plates had been cleared and all that remained was a pitcher of fresh orange juice, Napoleon’s communicator began to warble.  He excused himself and rose from the table, followed by Illya.

“Solo here.”

“Mr. Solo, this is Louis, and we have been notified of a big problem just up the coast.  A wreck has washed ashore, and first reports indicate that it belongs to the party of representatives that were to meet with Mr. Waverly.”

Napoleon let out an involuntary sigh at the news.  Illya had anticipated trouble, it seemed inevitable if past experience were any indication, and it usually was.

“Okay Louis, are there any other details you can tell me?”  Dread accompanied that statement.  No doubt there would signs of THRUSH involvement in this.

“Uh, yeah.  Napoleon, it looks like there was an explosion of some sort.  Two bodies have been found so far; it’s almost as though they were blown off the boat.”

Mr. Waverly was not going to be pleased, he had spent considerable time in preparation of this meeting; safeguards had been in place.  Apparently not enough.

“Louis, try to keep a lid on this, turn away anyone who isn’t Bahamian law enforcement.  We’ll need a team up here ASAP to start going over that boat for any clues as to what caused this.  I imagine there will be some signature elements that will lead us straight to THRUSH Central.”

“Will do Napoleon.  I’ll keep you posted on anything that comes up here.”

“Thanks Louis.  Solo out.”

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other with the resigned expressions of men who were accustomed to wading into the thick of battle.

“I suppose this means our holiday is now officially over.”  Illya was now relieved of his uncomfortable position as a guest of the great house.  Work would supplant the Russian’s sojourn as a member of the elitists who inhabited such gratuitous splendor.  Napoleon thought he caught a glimmer of relief from his partner.

“Is that a twinkle in your eye, tovarisch?

“I wouldn’t call it relief, but I would rather be working than assuming the life of one who actually needs servants in order to live comfortably.  I mean no harm, it is just not my preference.”  He made no apologies for standing apart from the bourgeoisie, not here nor anywhere else he might find himself.

Napoleon nodded appreciatively.  You could not accuse Kuryakin of trying to blend in on everything, certainly not when it came to personal convictions.

‘‘I suppose we need to inform Mr. Waverly in private; no doubt he will want to spare Mrs. Waverly the anxiety of knowing THRUSH is most probably close by.”

The two men walked back to the table where the Waverlys, Mark and April were still seated.  As if on cue, Constance excused herself and made her way back into the house.  She had been married to Alexander far too long to not recognize when there was work to be done, conversations to be carried on in private.

All eyes were on Napoleon now as he explained the conversation with Louis Sterns, the probability of an attack on the boat transporting the delegation from their hotel down to this location.  Alexander Waverly let the news sink in, his furrowed face looking older than it had during the carefree conversations of just an hour ago.

“Are there no survivors?  This is a blow to our relations with Ingara.  They were weeking inclusion and protection, something they will now have no confidence in seeing as how THRUSH has most probably perpetrated this atrocity within mere miles of our own location.  We have failed them most miserably.”

That felt like a reprimand to the four agents seated at the table.  Should they have been more diligent, sent more men or even gone themselves?  Where were the security personnel that should have been safeguarding the Ingara delegation?

“Did the security detail accompany the delegates on that boat?”  Illya was beginning to wonder about the motive behind this attack.  Perhaps it wasn’t as clear cut as might be at first surmised.

Napoleon looked up, suddenly interested in where this line of reasoning might be going.

“Let me have Agent Bhatt check into that.  He speaks the language and will be the most effective in getting a story out of the people involved.”  Napoleon opened his communicator and set the course of action in motion.  In the meantime, all four agents agreed that Mr. Waverly needed to be sequestered until they were certain of his safety; perhaps this attack might be intended to divert attention away from the head of UNCLE.

“Sir, I believe it is not unreasonable to have at least two additional teams of agents fly in today and join us.  You and Mrs. Waverly may also be targets.”  Napoleon was unwilling to put his boss at risk unnecessarily, and he felt certain that the Old Man would never put his wife in harm’s way.

“Very well Mr. Solo, I’m placing this entire scenario in your hands.  I expect regular reports on your progress.”

That was it, and Napoleon Solo was ready for the task.