Expenses Again - 'Short Affair' Challenge - Feb 9th

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Prompts – Budget/Silver
Word Count (approx.) - 840


This is a sort of follow up to my story 'Expenses'. It isn't entirely necessary, but I suggest reading that first, to get an idea of who Stefan Reid is.

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Stefan Reid, chief accountant of U.N.C.L.E. New York, was not a nervous man by nature. He faced down agents, and their ‘creative’ expenses claims on a daily basis. However, there was a world of difference between an agent trying to get a reimbursement on a cup of coffee, and one who doesn’t want you in his way. In this case, it was two agents.

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin were not happy with what Reid had suggested. Unfortunately, Mr Waverly seemed to think it a fine idea.

“Are you sure about this, Sir?” Napoleon asked his superior, while keeping his eyes on Reid.

“I’m not suggesting I join you on a full assignment,” the accountant assured him. “Just a courier run.”

“They are often just as dangerous,” Illya stated, keeping his voice neutral. The only indication he was less than happy, was the way he was tapping his pen on the table. Reid found it difficult to tear his eyes from the silver object, fully expecting Kuryakin to throw it at him at any moment.

“Gentlemen,” Waverly interjected, with a tone which quieted the argument before it could begin. “I understand your misgivings. Nonetheless, I believe that it will be beneficial for all concerned to for Mr Reid to see for himself why agents have such high expenses. We obviously can’t send him on an assignment with you, so he agreed to this. There is a budget review upcoming, and I understand that expenses could be in line for a cut.”

The emphasis he placed on the last sentence was clearly understood by the two agents. They both realised it was their best chance of having accounting cut them a little slack.

“Very well, Sir,” Napoleon relented, before turning his attention back to Reid. “We have a package to hand-off tomorrow; you can join us for that.”

“A word of warning, Mr Reid,” Kuryakin said, with a voice so cold, the accountant almost shivered. “You must listen to us at all times. If we tell you do something, it is imperative you do it immediately, without question. It could be a matter of life or death.”


……………………………………………………………………………………………………………


48 hours later.


“Take a seat Mr Solo, Mr Kuryakin,” said Mr Waverly, by way of a greeting.

Napoleon sat down immediately, but Illya had to do some careful manoeuvring because of his crutches and the whole leg cast he was sporting.

“Mr Reid is unable to join this meeting, as medical haven’t yet cleared him,” the Old Man pointedly looked at the Russian. “Some people know how to follow their doctor’s orders.”

Illya said nothing, he knew he was fine. Well, apart from a fractured femur.

“I have spoken to him about the incident,” Waverly continued, “And he assures me that neither of you could have prevented him from being shot. In fact his story agrees with your reports in saying that, if you Mr Kuryakin hadn’t pushed him out of the way, it may have been his chest and not his arm which was hit. He regrets that he didn’t duck when you told him too, and that it led to you taking a tumble down that embankment.”

The agents said nothing. Illya was still seething over being injured because the idiot accountant didn’t listen to him. Napoleon kept quiet because he knew full well the bullet wouldn’t have hit Reid. He was wishing he’d told Illya about the plan he’d cooked up.

“The whole thing did achieve the desired result,” Mr Waverly continued. “Mr Reid now accepts that agents cannot be expected to know when danger will confront them. He accepts that material costs are the last thing you should be concerning yourselves with in the heat of the moment. In conclusion, the expenses budget is staying as it is. Mr Solo, that is not a licence for you to claim a new suit every week.”

“Yes Sir.” Solo replied, contritely.

“Just one more thing, Mr Solo. It seems a little strange to me that the gunman who fired on Mr Reid only took one shot before running off. You wouldn’t happen to know why that would be.”

“Not idea, Sir,” Napoleon lied. “I’d better be getting Mr Kuryakin home. He’s been ordered to take medical leave.

Waverly harrumphed, and waved them away with his pipe.

As they made their way back down the corridor, Illya asked Napoleon if he really did know anything about the gunman. Solo tried to bluff his way around an answer, but his guilty expression was enough to give him away.

“I set it up,” he confessed. “You weren’t supposed to see him. He would have sent the shot right past, but you did see him and took action. It was meant to scare Reid, and show him how dangerous things can be for us. I’m sorry, Tovarisch.”

“Sorry?” Illya growled. “I’m out of action for weeks, and you’re sorry?”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“Don’t you worry, my friend,” Kuryakin replied, with a smile like a mad wolf. “I shall make certain you do.”

Comments

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

This was so perfect! Very good (she chuckles). :D

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Thank you very much :-)

Something a little lighter for a change :-)