"This is all your fault" ~ for the Short Affair

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Challenge: The Short Affair

Prompt #1: Estate

Prompt colour: Pale Orangle

Author: mrua7

Word count: Approx. 997

“Well here’s another fine mess you’ve gotten us into Stanley,” Napoleon Solo quipped.

He was addressing his partner at the moment, whereas the two of them were suspended upside down, hanging rather uncomfortably by their ankles.

"And why is it always my fault?"

"Just because it is."

They were in the dungeon-like basement of a manor house on the estate of one Sir Reginald Carstairs.

The man was one of the newest acolytes to T.H.R.U.S.H. and was trying to earn brownie points with the Council by capturing two of U.N.C.L.E.'s best agents and getting them to talk.

The problem was that Napoleon and Illya had really nothing to talk about. They had been on holiday for the last ten days and were been pretty much out of the loop in regards to the comings and goings of the Command.

There were no secret passwords they could give away that would grant Carstairs access to the UNCLE computers, as those were changed on a near daily basis.

THRUSH already knew the location of the many headquarters and field offices around the world and had for years.  After making numerous attempts at invading said locations, they’d given up due to their lack of success.

Sir Reginald thought it amazing resistance on Solo and Kuryakin’s part when they told him under the most potent of truth serums that they were ‘simply on vacation.’

“Good God,” he said aloud to his manservant Geoffrey.”I have never seen such magnificent conditioning. These agents might be unbreakable.”

“Unbreakable sir?” Geoffrey smiled, pounding his left fist into the palm of his right hand.

“Ah, yes." Cairstairs smiled." The old fashioned method of questioning. I had hoped we would have been able to do away with such vulgar displays. Well there’s nothing to it but to have at them my good man.”

“Yes sir Master Reginald.”

As the two men descended into the darkness, their way lit only by a burning torch; they entered the darkened room where the prisoners were being held.

As the wooden door creaked open, Sir Reginald Carstairs held his breath in anticipation. Outwardly he might protest that he abhorred violence, but secretly, deep down inside, he found it exciting.

He couldn’t wait for Geoffrey to have at that obnoxious Russian. Even while under truth serum Kuryakin was able to fire back taunting remarks as if he were trying to goad him. It was no wonder Angelique detested this particular agent.

With such a personality it was amazing the man was still alive; having been captured so many other times before, it was no wonder someone hadn’t simply killed him to shut him up. Reginald hated people who tried to get in the last word.

Solo, on the other hand, was not at all what he expected him to be. Not a crass unruly Yank; the man was surprisingly genteel and well mannered. Utterly charming really.  What T.H.R.U.S.H. could do with a man like Napoleon Solo on their side.

Carstairs sighed. It was a shame the American was ‘unturnable.’

As Reginald and his man Geoffrey brought light into the dark musty room, they were greeted with an unexpected surprise.

The prisoners had escaped.

“Dash it all!” Were the only words Sir Reginald Carstairs could utter.

.

The agents were about a mile and half away as they reined the two horses they were riding to a halt.

After cutting their bonds, thanks to a knife embedded in the sole of one of Kuryakin’s shoes, they effected their escape.  Instead of finding the garage that housed any cars; they came upon the stables.

Both being excellent riders; they had a pair of horses saddled in minutes and off they were into the English countryside.

The bed and breakfast they’d been staying at was just another quarter mile away, and though they took a more circuitous route than one might normally take to get to it; the two men rode in on their horses, right down the main street of the bustling little village.

Though riders weren’t an uncommon sight, horses being ridden on the main street were and they received a few stares from the locals and the visiting tourists there as well.

Napoleon and Illya tied up the beasts in front of their bed and breakfast, leaving them to munch on some nearby bushes.

They made their way quickly to their rooms, gathering their belongings and paid the bill before making a hasty retreat to their car that was parked nearby.

Solo slipped the owner of the B&B a little extra money for the trouble of returning the horses to Sir Reginald.

The look on the woman’s face was not happy, when she saw what the beasts had done to her lovely flowers.

The look on Solo’s face wasn’t happy either when he handed her the rest of his cash for the damages.

The agents tossed their bags into the boot of the car and headed off; the light beginning to fade as the sun set, making for a beautiful pale orange sky.

“Shame we couldn’t have ridden off on the horses,” Napoleon suddenly remarked, as he watched his partner steer their little car along the winding country road.

“Why would you think that?”

“Didn’t you ever want to ride off into the sunset like the good guys always do in westerns?” Napoleon grinned.

Illya rolled his eyes. “I have ridden off on horseback into plenty of sunsets back on the steppes, and I must say it makes for difficult travel once the sun has gone down.”

“Partner mine, there are times you just think too literally.”

“Napoleon this is the last time I go on a vacation with you. Everytime I do...we get into trouble.”

“Moi? You’re blaming me?  It was you who Sir Reginald recognized. Maybe next time you should wear a disguise.”

“Wear a disguise while on vacation? Hmmm, that is a very novel idea Napoleon. I will have to try it once I am on vacation again... by myself.”

It was now Napoleon Solo’s turn to roll his eyes.

Comments

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