THE BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR AFFAIR
By AJ Burfield
ACT I: "What?
No
Princess Carina Contessa Antonia DeNunzio stepped from the private jet into the glare of the mid-day sun and immediately slipped her designer sunglasses over her dark, sultry eyes. It wouldn't do to squint and risk any damage to her fresh make up. She paused at the top of the stairs and made her pose look unintentional. Her thigh protruded gracefully from the slit in her skirt, a skirt that was shorter than her parents would allow in their presence. The outfit they had her wear when she boarded the jet was stashed in the jet restroom.
Princess Tessa, as she was known, smugly swept her eyes over the tarmac, her lower lip in a pout and knowing every eye in the area was on her. She held her pose a bit longer.
"Kiki," she said boredly as she let her haughty gaze return to the open hatch of the plane. "It looks like we have arrived. Are you ready?"
Kiki oozed around the corner of the hatch, her chin in a similar haughty angle. Her chest was thrown out to show off the creamy white skin that topped her straining cleavage that was framed in a low-slung neckline. Her top was like a second skin and tucked into similarly snug white bell-bottoms encircled with a belt of wide rings at the waist. She posed nonchalantly next to her friend.
"Yes, I suppose," she sighed as she tossed her long, straight hair over her shoulder and adjusted her identical designer sunglasses on her nose.
The girls were well rehearsed and the urge to giggle was well suppressed. With a toss of her aristocratic chin Princess Tessa descended the stairs. Half way down she flicked her hand lazily at a pair of uniformed attendants standing at the bottom.
"Take our bags to the car, will you gentlemen?" She said in a tone that was years older than her actual age.
"Yes, miss," one of them replied with a short bow. As Tessa and Kiki stepped to the tarmac, the attendants dashed up the steps.
The Princess turned to face a limo that approached them. Kiki's voice whispered in her ear, tight with refrained laughter. "I think I'm allergic to the tissues I stuffed my bra with. It itches!"
Tessa choked and fought to maintain her dignified expression, glad for the sunglasses that covered her eyes. "Don’t make me laugh! My mascara will run!" She replied in a controlled giggle. Her lipstick was fresh and thick and she didn't want to smear any of it.
"Tessa, if our parents saw us now we'd be grounded for the rest of our lives," Kiki said with a newly maintained bored-looking expression. She struck a pose next to her friend. They both managed to look more aristocratic than they felt.
The limo pulled up and the driver leaped out and ran around to open the door for them. Kiki slipped in and momentarily caught her heel on the door edge. Tessa surveyed the driver.
"Where's Marco?" She asked pointedly, giving Kiki time to free her heel.
"He is sick, Miss. I am his replacement, Richard."
"Richard? I wasn't informed." Tessa turned her nose up and looked back for one of the uniformed attendants. She struggled to recall the older looking one's name that had been stitched on his jacket. "Why didn't . . . Michael . . . tell me?" Inwardly she was relieved she remembered the name.
"He should have, Princess. Here he comes now."
The attendants struggled his way down the stairs with four huge bags that bordered on being steamer trunks. It was comical to watch, but Tessa maintained her composure by mentally conjugating the past tense verb forms for the German word 'play'. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, winded, she asked coolly, "Why didn't you inform me about Marco? My father will be very upset."
"Sorry, Miss," Michael gasped. "I only heard myself."
"Fine. Load the bags." Tessa slipped onto the seat next to the newly untangled Kiki and Richard closed the door. Kiki nodded toward the front seat. There was another man in the front passenger seat.
"Security," Tessa mouthed to her friend. Then, in a louder voice, "Um, excuse me. Could you raise the glass, please?"
"Yes, Princess." The man pressed a button and a thick glass slid up between the compartments.
Kiki let out a relieved giggle. "This is so decadent! I feel years older! Do my eyes still look all right?" She removed the sunglasses and touched the side of her face.
The car bounced as the men wrestled with the bags. Tessa slipped her glasses off and looked at her friend. Her eyes glittered with excitement. "They look terrific! Did you remember to pack the magazine away? I want to copy the make up on that other page tomorrow!"
"Yes, it's safe. How many days until your dad gets here? I want to find a skirt like yours!"
"We have three days of freedom, and
I plan to take full advantage." Tessa settled back in her seat and looked
out of the window. "
The driver finally slammed the trunk and made his way to his seat, slightly breathless from the wrestling match with the bags. He shut the door and dropped the car into drive.
Tessa fingered the intercom. "Take us to Bloomingdale's, please." She asked.
The response was immediate. "Sorry, Princess, but my orders are to check you into your quarters first. Your father wants to know you've safely arrived."
Tessa sighed. "Fine." Her tone sounded more like the spoiled teenager she really was. She closed the intercom with a snap.
Kiki, who had been investigating the
small bar, frowned. "There's not even any
"What? No
At the plane the attendants watched the car pull away. Michael pulled a walkie talkie from his coat pocket. "Target is on her way," he said, still wheezing from the luggage loading. He tucked the device away and turned to his partner who was leaning on the stair rail and also catching his breath. "We still need to take the driver and security men's' bodies somewhere and dump them where they won't be found."
The second man tiredly fixed his eyes on Michael. "Does THRUSH have any idea what they're dealing with? Those girls are going to be a handful. I know. I have a teenage daughter."
Michael laughed. "The day THRUSH can't handle two little girls is the day I quit the organization. Come on." He slapped his partner on the shoulder and they moved away to complete their duties.
ACT II: "Discreet Is My Middle Name."
Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin arrived at Mr. Waverly's office within seconds of each other even though they came from different parts of the building. Illya made his way up from the bowels of the lab in steady, sure time while his partner made it from the office down the hall while obtaining lunch and dinner dates for the next few days.
They acknowledged each other with familiar nods when their paths intersected outside Waverly's office. Lisa Rogers immediately let them into Waverly's inner sanctum. Kuryakin plopped down and immediately opened the file on the table whereas Solo settled into his seat gracefully and leaned back with a relaxed air about him.
"I take it you gentlemen had a restful weekend?" The head of the New York UNCLE office stood at his desk with a handful of files. His bushy eyebrows hung over eyes that did not bother to seek out his two top agents when he heard them enter. Waverly's mind was already many steps ahead in this meeting.
"Yes, sir. At least I did," Solo replied with a smile.
Kuryakin didn't look up from the files.
"Yes, sir, thank you. Is this the Prince that is coming to
"Yes, it is." Waverly turned and set his files on the main table.
"Er, what trade conference?" Solo asked slowly as he straightened his cuff.
"The one taking place here in
Solo cleared his throat. "Only if it's read to me over breakfast." The blond agent threw him a glance, then shook his head and grinned slightly.
Waverly began the brief by handing Solo
a black and white 8 by 10 of a man decked in a military uniform. "Prince
Antonio Carlo DeNunzio, head of the trade federation of European Trade
Federation is due to arrive in
"How old is this Princess?" Solo inquired brightly. Illya passed a pair of photos from the file in front of him. Solo's eyes immediately brightened.
"Princess Carina Contessa Antonia DeNunzio is seventeen, as is her friend and traveling companion, Marika Victoria Verdano VanAdlesberg."
Solo glanced at the second photo. "I'd hate to sign those names everyday."
"Yes, I suppose. Now to the point, gentlemen. It seems the girls have disappeared."
Kuryakin closed the file and gave his
boss his full attention. "In
"That is what the family believes.
The Princess's jet landed this morning. The clothes she was wearing when she
left
"Is this her
first time in
"This is her first time out of
"I guess there are worse hobbies," Kuryakin commented. "So why is UNCLE involved?"
"UNCLE is being used to monitor the conference, as we are considered a neutral, international agency. Each participant has it's own security, but UNCLE is to handle the security of the conference. No one anticipated this event, and the conference board has decided to turn it over to us since we are familiar with the participants. The security man assigned to the Princess, and her assigned driver, are also missing, so the Prince does not trust his own security at this point."
"So we're to find the girls and bring them home." Solo pursed his lips. "Sounds a little too simple."
"Nothing is ever simple where you and females are involved," Kuryakin said flatly. "Where do we start?"
"The Prince's part in the conference was about regulating seaports and setting up a universal set of standards and rules for the countries in this group that use them. If someone is trying to control his vote, we need to know who it is." The Old Man drummed his fingers on the table. "It is unlikely the girl has taken off on her own, but not out of the realm of possibility. We will handle this as a kidnapping until we know otherwise. No one else in the conference knows of the disappearance, and the Prince would like to keep it that way."
The partners rose to their feet. "I guess we start with the list of participants," Solo said as he picked up the file in front of Kuryakin.
"And gentlemen," Waverly
started. "I don't have to remind you to be discreet, do I?"
"'Discreet' is my middle name," Solo said brightly as he paused at the
door.
Illya's smirk caught his attention. "Well it's certainly not yours," the dark haired agent teased. "You can't walk two feet without tripping."
"At least I don't sound like an elephant when I walk."
"Elephant?" Solo pushed open the door. "More like a cheetah, I would think."
"One with club feet," his partner countered as they left the room.
When the door to his office shut, Waverly slowly shook his head in amazement and returned to his paperwork, glad for a moment of quiet.
*********
Tessa and Kiki were in heaven.
"I had no idea your dad was so cool," Kiki said yet again with the same enthusiasm. "A real American spa!"
"It is rather a surprise," Tessa sighed. "I was sure it would be one of those stuffy, old hotels again.
"This sure isn't like any spa at home. Look at the muscles on that guy!"
The girls were sitting on the small balcony of their room, which overlooked an indoor pool that was landscaped to look like a lagoon. The rooms were small but lavish, and the girls had been thrilled to find a welcome basket of fruit and champagne waiting for them.
They were already on their second glass, and feeling tingly all over.
"I guess the 'No Alcohol' order
from daddy didn't make it here. We must look mature or they'd never give us this
"Oh, look!" Kiki nearly upset her glass when she quickly stood, but didn't notice. "I think there's a discotheque down there! I love this place!"
Tessa joined her at the rail and they giggled uncontrollably as they leaned over the railing. Next to the pool a small disco was acting as an outdoor café for the lunch crowd. The doors were thrown open to the pool and the small tables and dance floor inside were clearly visible. The girls happily commented on each and every person they could see.
"I've only been to one spa at home. You know the place - all the attendants were matronly women that looked like workhorses."
"Yeah, and the rooms were Oriental and bare. My dad said it was appropriate for my age. Remember when we went there together that one time?"
"How could I forget? We both tried to sneak out at were caught!" The girls collapsed in their chairs, laughing uncontrollably. Tessa raised her glass. "I like this stuff!!"
"More!"
*******
Without much to go on, Solo and Kuryakin soon found that they were at the proverbial brick wall. They were in the process of trying to locate any information on two attendants that had also disappeared from the airport. Their list of missing people was growing with no clues of where they had gone.
The warbling of Solo's communicator brought an annoyed sigh from the agent. "Now what? More people to add to the missing persons list?" He twisted the silver pen. "Solo here."
"Ah, Mr. Solo." Waverly's voice was more cheery than usual. "The Prince has heard from his daughter."
"So, she's all right? Where is she?"
"Well, that seems to be the problem. He still doesn't know."
Illya frowned. "She didn't tell him?"
"Yes and no, Mr. Kuryakin. She said she was at a spa."
"A spa?" Solo questioned.
"Yes." Their boss's tone turned disdainful. "The only detail she could share was that the male employees were . . . ah . . . cute."
Solo smiled crookedly while Kuryakin shook his head in amazement. "Well, she is 17, sir," Solo commented. "I get the feeling there was more to this conversation?"
"Yes. The Prince says the girls don't know they've been kidnapped, and the Prince didn't tell them."
Solo looked at his communicator in surprise. Illya spoke before Solo had a chance. "How could she not know that and why didn't he tell her?" The Russian's voice sounded exasperated.
"As far as him not telling her, he didn't want to scare her and she seemed happy and healthy at the moment. He tried to get more details but he thinks she was drunk."
"Maybe she was poisoned."
"Then they slipped the poison in
two bottles of
"A bird in a gilded cage," Illya noted.
"There's more, Mr. Kuryakin. Within
minutes of her call, the Prince received another call that threatened her safety
if he did not vote as the caller dictated."
"Did the caller identify themselves?" Solo asked.
"Yes. It seems it involves our feathered friend Narcissus."
"Ah, yes. She would have an affinity to pampering." Solo said. "A spa is not surprising."
"At least you have a place to start now, Mr. Solo. Narcissus has promised safe return of the Princess if no one else is informed about the threat."
"The Prince must have great confidence in us, then." Solo said.
"Fortunately, yes. Our research on
Narcissus indicates several real estate purchases worldwide in the past two
years where she acted as the representative for Thrush controlled companies,
four in the
"Yes, sir. Solo out." He closed the pen. "Well, off to the country we go."
ACT III: "What, Exactly, Do You Do With The Cucumbers?"
Solo's pen warbling broke into his curious thoughts about the kind of hotel that would be in the area of a town called Sleepy Hollow. The vision in his head of an Ichabod Crane bellboy was vanquished with the sound of his partner's voice.
"I'm at a very well guarded front gate of an obviously no longer abandoned hotel." A squawking in the background made Solo frown at the device. "A small sign says the place is now called The Green Door."
"The Green Door? Can you tell what's there?"
"Well, the front door for one. And it's green." The drollness of the Russians tone was not lost on the American.
"I see your investigative training has not been wasted." The background chatter seemed to increase. "What is that noise? If it's an alarm, I'd say it needs a little maintenance."
Perched in a tree outside the massive stone wall of the old hotel Illya Kuryakin glanced at the pair of angry squirrels berating his blocking their exit from the tree. The agent was lying on a branch with one leg hooked around the main trunk of a giant sycamore. His glance made the branch wobble and the rodents' vocal distress redoubled. "It's not a man made alarm, and I'd say the only maintenance it would appreciate is a couple of nuts."
"Too bad there's only one of you," Solo replied instantly.
Finally unnerved, the squirrels made a break for it and scampered over the agent, chattering expletives all the way to the ground. "Same to you," the treed agent mumbled.
"What?" Solo asked. "Trouble?"
"No, just nature taking its course. It looks like I can get in on the other side of the building at the servant's entry. Supply trucks seem to be making their deliveries for the day. I'll let you know what I find. Any luck on your end?"
Solo had finally come to the address given him. A weathered wooden sigh, peeling to the point of near obscurity, leaned tiredly to one side indicating where he should turn. "I've only just arrived. Keep your head down."
"Will do." The pen clicked into silence, and Solo replaced it in his jacket pocket.
The rutted, overgrown drive lead to a clear space. He threw the car into Park at the end of the decaying drive just outside a picket fence that was once white - or blue, depending on which picket he looked at - and was now working its way back to natural brown. Flattened to the ground to resemble a dilapidated train track, the fence did nothing to keep anything at bay. Solo opened the car door and stepped out. The texture of the ground made him quickly step aside just as the smell assaulted his nose.
Green goo encased his right shoe. Disgusted, he wrinkled his nose and wiped what he could on a dewy patch of weeds nearby.
"I'd rather deal with hostile squirrels," he mumbled at the crusted calling card of a passing cow that he'd stepped in. He straightened his jacket and tried to ignore the slimy wetness of his right sock. Solo stepped over the fence and wormed his way through a now wild expanse of hedge. He heard his jacket tear and swore silently.
The only thing that greeted him on the other side was a giant hole where he supposed the hotel had once been.
********
It didn't take Illya long to hijack a supply truck. He dropped on the roof of a box van from another accommodating sycamore, slipped into the cab and shot the driver with a sleep dart. After a rough stop, the agent dragged him into the brush, where the man was tied and gagged then stored out of sight for later retrieval.
"Break time!" Illya said cheerily. He recovered a temporary identification card, luckily without a photo, dated for today only from the driver's pocket. The tiny Thrush insignia in the corner and the words Security Level 5 piqued the agent's interest. "I wonder what it will take to upgrade to Security Level 1?" He mused.
Luck followed him as he easily passed through the servant's gate. Bored guards mechanically glanced at the ID card and at the contents of the box van. Illya drove to the unloading area and backed in close to the building. When he opened the back of the van to unload, stacks of boxes labeled 'Tampons' and 'Sanitary Napkins' awaited him.
Kuryakin hesitated then slowly leaned aside to read the side of the box van. WOMAN'S HEALTH and SANITARY SUPPLIES was written in huge, black and bold letters.
"I couldn't read the truck first," he sighed as he turned back to see what else he could unload. Aside from the boxed were crates of sickly sweet smelling soap that gave him an instant headache. Sitting in the middle was what looked like a large cooler. Curious, the agent flipped up the lid.
Cucumbers. Dozens of cucumbers. He raised his eyebrows and studied the load.
Finally he said with a shrug, "Who am I to judge?" And dropped the vegetables. The least of three evils, Illya grabbed the cooler and made his way inside.
Busy workers, easily identifiable by their sea green togas and identical high heels, bustled behind the scenes in what appeared to be a storage/distribution area. Stacks upon stacks of towels, from washcloths to beach towels, towered on tables that lined one wall. Various bars of soaps, jars of oil and tubs of facial creams took up opposite wall. Toga clad girls hunted among the stores.
"Get out of my way, Celine. I need to get by!"
"I have dibs on that box of oatmeal soap! Don't touch it, Denise!"
"Where's the portable steamer? How can I do facials without a portable steamer?"
The chatter was as constant as the action and Illya was surprised into motionlessness. Every one of the workers was female, and each female was a beauty. The agent couldn't help but grin at his moment of good fortune. A redhead, her hair piled up in a teetering bun, spied the cooler as she picked through the face creams
. "Hey!" She barked as she quickly moved his way. When her eyes looked up to his face, she brightened with a delighted smile. "Hey!" She said again, this time in a sultry, sexy voice. She sidled up and slipped one arm through his elbow. "You're just too cute. Much better than the other guy." She tapped the box with her free hand and let her fingers do the walking up his chest. Her voice was low and husky. "Do you have what I need?"
"I believe so," he replied, hoping they were talking about the same thing.
She snuggled closer and led him out of the busy area. "You're just in time," she purred. "My special massage just isn't right without your load."
"Er - " He found himself at a loss for words. Her body firmly pressed into his side. "Ah, what, exactly, do you do with the cucumbers?"
She leaned in so her soft lips brushed his earlobe when she spoke. "Eyes. Slices reduce puffiness around the eyes." There was a moment of silence as she took in his relieved look. "Oh!" Her eyes opened wide when she interpreted his response. "Oh my!" She giggled and whacked his arm playfully. "You are a nasty one!"
Illya felt himself blush slightly. "Ah, not really. You should meet my partner."
The redhead sighed. "Lucky girl!"
He decided to stop while he was ahead. She guided him through an elaborate lobby, shiny with marble and chrome. An arched ceiling displayed a sparkling crystal chandelier and the hardwood accents glowed with a healthy polish. A fountain happily gurgled in the center of the alcove, surrounded by lush and potted greenery.
"We aren't supposed to be visible to the clients, but this is a shortcut. Hurry." The girl tugged on his elbow, keeping to the edge of the visible range of the clerks behind the counter in the entry. "The Miss isn't here right now, so we're in luck. Here."
Illya allowed himself to be led down a quiet hallway, then another, and then into a smaller storage area. "Put it there," the girl said. She pointed to an empty spot on the floor. "Would you like to stick around and help be slice?" Coyly, she fluttered her eyelashes and held up a knife.
"No, thank you. I have to get back to work." The girl pouted for a moment and pulled out a cucumber. She dropped it on a cutting board and whacked it cleanly with the very sharp knife. Illya cringed. "Er, what is this place, anyway, um," he noticed her nametag for the first time. Displayed so prominently upon her chest, how could he have missed it? "Debi?"
Debi was happily carving the cucumber, the rejection forgotten. "Oh, it's a retreat for some big company. Must be some big money in birds to afford all this."
"Birds?"
"Yeah. There's a little black bird logo on everything. Didn't you see it inlayed in the lobby floor in tile?"
"No, I didn't." He patted his pocket. "Where's the office? I need to drop off the bill of lading."
"Next to the check in desk in the lobby. But that needs to go to billing. In the basement."
"Basement. Thanks. Good bye, Debi."
She paused and threw him a dazzling smile. Perfection, like all the employees he'd seen so far. "Anytime, sweetie. Look me up next time, huh?" She winked.
He backed out with a small wave of is hand, closed the door and continued his investigation. He peeked out a window at the end of the hall and saw a jungle surrounding a pool. He craned his head to one side and saw a poolside bistro, busy with patrons. Waiters deftly maneuvered between the small tables.
"At least I don't have to wear a toga," he said, then he noticed the snug fit of the waiter's black pants and the garish ruffled shirts they wore. "Or maybe a toga wouldn't be so bad after all . . . "
********
Tessa groaned. "Ooo, my head hurts."
Kiki, draped across the rumpled bed face up, fumbled for one of the empty bottles beside her and turned it upside down above her eye. She shook it. "It's all gone! Now what?"
"I don't know about you, but a massage and a facial followed by a nap will do the trick for me. Then it's time for some fun!"
The girls put on their bathing suits and donned the thick robes embellished on the pocket with an embroidered green door. Kiki frowned at hers as they waited for the elevator. "What's that black thing on the door?"
Tessa glanced at it. "Looks like a crow. I don't know. Who cares?" She dragged her companion in then out of the elevator and followed the 'Massage and Facials' signs. When they entered the reception area of a small room they were greeted by a smiling blonde in a green toga. "Hello, ladies. Ready for a facial?"
"Yes, we are!" Tessa said, forgetting to sound mature.
The lady smiled. "I'm Kelly." She hit a small call bell and a redhead appeared from behind a curtain. "And this is Debi. We will be your attendants."
Debi led the way. "You ladies are lucky! We just got in some nice, refreshing cucumbers for your eyes!"
"Sounds great!" Kiki said, smiling. "I can't wait to see what's next!"
ACT IV: "Just What I Need - More Of An Open Invitation."
Solo stopped at the first sign of civilization he could find that had a public restroom to rinse his socks. Luckily, he had a pair of clogs in the trunk that would do for footwear until his socks dried and he could polish his shoes. He sighed as he slipped on the clunky shoes; at least he didn't have to mountains climb any time soon.
With his jacket dusted off and the various tears patted flat he slipped into the car again and was in the process of draping his wet socks over the heater vent when his communicator warbled. He wiped his hands dry and twisted the pen open. The first thing he heard was 'Wild Thing' and the sound of an enthusiastic crowd.
"Solo here. Is anyone there who's not having fun?"
"That would be me." Illya's voice sounded tight. "When did women become so . . . forward?"
"Not soon enough in my opinion. Have you spotted the girls?"
"No. I keep getting distracted and this place is packed. I managed to get a glimpse at the office files and discovered that this is a private Thrush resort and spa. Apparently any Thrush member and their spouses can come here to relax."
Solo's eyes opened in interest. "Well, that's a good idea! Think Waverly would go for that?"
"I'll let you pitch that idea. Hold on." The communicator was silent for a few moments. "I'm back."
"Problems?"
"Nothing a pair of handcuffs wouldn't fix. Then again, that just may excite her more." Illya's voice sounded disgusted. "I think we both need to search this place. It's rather large."
Solo grinned. "I'm on my way."
"Somehow I didn't think it would
take much to get you here. I suggest arriving as a guest. Several are checking
in at
The American consulted his watch. "That gives me two hours. I'll see you then."
"Kuryakin out."
The air went dead and Solo happily pocketed the pen and examined his nails. "I wonder if there's an opening for a manicure before dinner."
*************
Illya closed the pen with a snap and a twist then tucked it away in the waist of his uncomfortably snug pants. Small, well-placed tugs moved the garment into a more tolerable position, but he hoped he wouldn't have to climb anything. He wasn't sure the material could stand the strain.
Exiting the busboy corner put him in the middle of the early afternoon throng gathering for cocktail hour. 'Wild Thing' gave way to 'Good Lovin' ' without a loss of momentum on the dance floor. The agent tried to keep to the outskirts but was forced to maneuver through the gyrating crowd. He felt hands on every part of his body as he moved along. Dance requests were as heavy as the champagne breath they were delivered on. By the time he broke free by the pool, he had to check and make sure his uniform was still intact. Other than flattened ruffles and a missing button, he was intact. Disgustedly, he noticed the missing button deepened the 'V' of his neckline to mid chest. "Just what I need," he mumbled to himself. "More of an open invitation."
He worked his way around to the far side of the pool, which was elevated enough for him to observe the crowd from a better angle while he feigned totaling up an order sheet. No sign of the girls. He turned and looked at the U shaped building surrounding the pool area. One wing was mostly administrative and housekeeping offices, and most of another wing was spa related - steam rooms, massage rooms, sauna. That left the rest of the building as guest rooms. With a sigh, he grabbed a tray with a few empty glasses and hoisted it to his shoulder. The opening beat to 'Paint It Black' urged him into the building.
He'd have to check the rooms one by one. He hoped Solo would turn up soon.
*******
"That's just what I needed!" Kiki was ready to go back to action.
"Me too! Listen to that music! There's nothing like rock and roll to make a girl want to move." Tessa checked her make up in the mirror one last time. The massage, facial and hair styling had refreshed both of them. After a quick shower and change of clothes, they were ready to go.
Kiki wore a lime green mini-dress that could be classified as a second skin and dangling ball earrings the size of lemons. Tessa wore a patented leather mini-skirt in a hot pink and blinding yellow dot pattern and a snug yellow blouse with countless buttons from neckline to navel and gold ear rings that could double as hula hoops. They both wore knee high shiny boots in colors that complemented their wardrobe and hip hugging belts of connecting metal loops.
Kiki grabbed Tessa's hand and squealed excitedly, "Come on! The discotheque is really hopping! We can grab a bite to eat down there."
Giggling, the girls trotted to the elevator that took them directly to the pool. Mick Jagger's sultry lyrics and the pounding beat of 'Paint It Black' greeted them as they spilled into the crowd.
*******
Napoleon Solo adjusted the bow tie of his borrowed tuxedo, pleased at the fit. He'd managed to single out one car heading to the spa that had a sole occupant, and was lucky the man was the same suit size. Well, close anyway. The agent tightened up the belt a bit and settled the jacket over the puckered waistline.
"You need to trim down a bit, my man," he said as he checked the bindings of the unconscious Thrushman. "But that's probably why you were heading to the spa." Solo checked the Thrush identification card, thankful that the agency did not have photos on their badges. "Number 117. My favorite combination. Maybe there's a craps table somewhere in there!"
He patted the head of the quiet captive. "I'll split the winnings with you if I have time. Good night!"
He emerged from the thick stand of trees and examined the scene from the road, satisfied that his sedan and the Thrushman weren't visible. He hopped into the waiting red Ferrari and gunned the engine. "I must speak to Waverly about my pay," he grumbled as he shot down the road to The Green Door.
Solo showed the identification to the guard at the gate, who matched the number to a list on his clipboard. The guard nodded thanks, and signaled for the gate to open. Solo cleared the wrought iron gates and had to admire the well-groomed grounds. He also noticed all the open space between the building and the imposing surrounding wall. Their escaped would have to be well planned.
A valet bowed to the agent as he opened the car door. "I will take care of your bags, sir. Please pick up your key at the front desk."
Solo nodded and walked up the front steps. The enormous green doors swung open as he approached, and quietly closed after he was inside. He paused. The large, black bird inlay on the floor was hard to miss. "How subtle," he breathed as he walked slowly to the front counter and carefully logged the layout of the lobby in his mind. He quickly ducked his head and angled his body sideways as he spotted and recognized the face of a passing guest - a lower level Thrush goon from an assignment three months ago. This would be tricky . . .
"Your name, sir?" The perky, toga-clad woman behind the counter smiled pleasantly. Solo was immediately smitten.
"Ah, yes. Martin Thorn." He smiled his best smile, but the woman was all business and didn't bat an eye.
"Here you go. Room 413. Your wife is waiting for you at the discotheque." She pointed to her left. "It's by the pool, that way."
"Oh. Yes. My wife." The woman's smile did not change. Solo glanced at her nametag. "Thank you, Collette."
"You're welcome." Collette whisked away without a second glance.
Solo turned to the exit and sighed, "Can't win 'em all." He headed to the pool.
Music that had been faint in the lobby painfully assaulted Solo's ears in full force when he stepped outside, which caused him to wince and pause. The crowd was unbelievably large, full of energy and incredibly loud. Thrush employees knew how to have a good time. While his hearing degraded the agent took a moment to decide if this crowd was easier searched up close, at a distance or not at all. He had to duck his face and turn his back to another recognizable foe that was leaving the dance floor with his date, smiling happily.
"Hi there!" Solo looked up to see whom he had bumped into. Bright blue eyes framed in hot pink accessories topped a toothy white smile. The busty woman took him into a dance hold. "Let's dance, handsome!" There was no room for choice as Solo was turned into the crowd just as 'Paperback Writer' spewed from the sound system. His date sang along gleefully as she pressed close and writhed in a dancing motion in his arms.
In a matter of seconds the agent was in the middle of the pressing crowd. He discovered quickly that this wasn't the best way to search for the girls. He had to bury his face in Miss Pink's ample and stiffly coiffed hair several times as he recognized faces in the crowd - all the wrong faces; faces that could identify him as and UNCLE agent. When the Beatles tune wound down and turned into the Shondell's 'Hanky Panky' Solo managed to break free of his wriggling partner worked his way out of the crowd.
When Solo turned to go he ran into a woman in a blinding yellow blouse.
"Oh, excuse me!"
Even though the woman giggled as she spoke Solo still noticed her accent and frowned; it couldn't be . . .
"My friend is very clumsy!"
When he laid his eyes on the second girl, he knew it was them. They looked so much older than the photos he was momentarily taken aback. The eye make up was thick and skillfully applied.
"No, no, ladies, my fault entirely." Solo reached to take Tessa by the arm but a waiter found his way between them.
"Ladies, Miss Narcissus would like to introduce herself. Come with me, please?"
"The owner? That beautiful woman on the pamphlets? Certainly! We would love to meet her!" Tessa smiled at Solo and slipped away. "Maybe later!"
"Bye!" Kiki fell in behind her friend.
Solo started to follow but had to step quickly back into the crowd. Narcissus was standing at the end of the pool waiting for the girls, facing his direction, and knew him from a previous mission. A confrontation while he was virtually surrounded by Thrush agents was not a good idea so he ducked his head, spun on his heel and moved quickly out to of the crowd to the building.
Getting to the girls was going to be trickier that he thought. He had to find his partner and figure out a less public place to contact them.
********
"Groovy place!" Kiki yelled over the crowd to the woman waiting for them by the pool.
"Yes, Miss Narcissus! I can't think
of a better way to spend time in
Narcissus smiled politely at the girls and wondered if these garishly bright colors would last another season; they certainly would never be considered 'classic'. She smoothed her hair unconsciously as she spoke. "I am so glad your visit here has been enjoyable so far. Now I must go. Do not hesitate to ask any attendant for what ever you need. Your father wants you to be happy." Her assignment to keep the girls occupied had been easy so far, and she didn't anticipate any problems now that she had met them. She knew what young girls wanted.
Now, Thrush Central would have to agree that her spa idea was a good one. Having her office here was perfect - daily massage, weekly facials and a stylist always on duty. Nothing could stop her now. Narcissus excused herself and moved away from the pool and gyrating crowd. She had to make sure the building was secure for the night and security squads all accounted for before she reported to her superiors.
***********
ACT V: "I Have An Inspired Idea."
Solo slipped into the building and took a moment to appreciate the quiet. As his hearing recovered he noticed low murmurs coming from up the hall. He followed the muffled noise, which led him to a pair of swinging doors sporting oval glass windows with 'CASINO' etched into them. Unconsciously adjusting his tie with a grin, he stepped into the dark cover of the room hoping to find an unobtrusive corner from which he could call his partner.
The room was thick with smoke and tuxedos. The hooded lights over the gaming tables were aimed downward, ensuring privacy of the players. The muted rattle of dice, the snap of cards and the clink of crystal glasses were a comforting background to the agent as he quickly scanned the crowd. Satisfied, he found a shadowy corner and signaled for a drink as he sat. After the drink was delivered by a scantily clad, no nonsense waitress he pulled out his communicator.
"Open Channel D."
A moment later, his partner responded shortly, "Where are you?"
"I'm hiding out in the casino. The poolside action was a bit too hot."
Illya's voice was icy. "I'm sure it was."
Solo regarded the communicator. "I mean that there were too many familiar faces out there. I did see the girls, though."
The Russian's voice warmed up considerably. "Really? That means I can stop peeking into bedrooms."
One corner of Solo's mouth turned up in a grin. "Well, you don't *have* to stop if you don't want to, and we do need a quiet place to contact them away from the flock. Their room would be the best location." The quiet, sure motion of a passing waitress caught his attention.
Illya's voice was all business. "I didn't find anything on them in the office. Other than a direct assault on the registration desk, how do we find the room in a more efficient manner?"
As Solo watched the waitress deliver a tray of drinks to the craps table, he brightened with a plan. "I have an inspired idea," he said lowly, appreciating the form of the waitress. "Get to the kitchen and find the wine cellar. When the sommelier brings up a bottle of '62 Piper Heidseick, offer to deliver it."
Illya caught on immediately. "Room service."
"Exactly. I'll call them in 15 minutes. That should be enough time for you to get there. And don't call me, I'll call you - I'm still in the middle of a flock."
"I'm on my way. Kuryakin out."
************
Illya found the kitchen easily with his nose; it seemed Narcissus knew excellent chefs. He sidled through the busy crowd and found the wine cellar in a quiet corner near the linen closet. He busied himself with folding napkins as he watched for the wine clerk. Several stacks of napkins later and growing more impatient, he dropped one of the linen squares. As he bent to pick it up he heard quickly approaching footsteps that stopped abruptly followed by a small gasp.
The agent stood quickly, suddenly alert. The sommelier's initial surprise changed to smiling appreciation as Illya turned to find himself the object of an admiring assessment that focused on his snug pants. The wine expert fingered the tasting cup hanging from his neck and Illya's skin prickled as the man's eyes studied him from head to toe. The sommelier's eyes finally settled on the crux of the 'V' in the agent's ruffled shirt.
"Well," the nattily dressed man breathed, momentarily at a loss for words. "Well!" He straightened, gripped the tasting cup more firmly and stepped to the wine cellar door, which placed him next to the now wary agent. He met the narrowed blue eyes squarely and smiled. "Care to join me while I pull a bottle?"
Regretfully swallowing the loud 'NO!' that tried to erupt from his throat, Illya blinked and eventually choked a quiet, "All right."
The sommelier smiled happily and opened the door. "I haven't seen you before," the man chirped as he motioned Illya to follow.
The agent gripped a dangling napkin and held it protectively in front of his crotch. "Ah, I'm new."
They descended into the cold and musty cellar on squeaky wooden steps. One tug on a chain hanging from above snapped to life two bare light bulbs suspended from the low ceiling of the cellar. Double rows of wine racks lined the walls on either side of them as they stepped to the stone floor. The sommelier stopped at the second rack and pointed to the lowest row.
"Bottom shelf. Green and yellow label. '62 Piper Heidseick." The man's eyes sparkled as he looked expectantly at the agent.
It was made obvious that refusal was out of the question. Illya sighed, resigned, and bent down to get the bottle feeling like he was in the center of a spotlight. The sommelier was smiling hugely when the agent straightened up and presented the bottle for inspection.
The sommelier took the bottle and kept eye contact. "Yes, yes. That's it." With a raised eyebrow and a teasing look, the man rubbed the bottle clean in an alarming motion that made Illya even more uncomfortable, then handed the bottle back. "Take it to room 214, please." He stepped aside to let the embarrassed blond lead the way up the stairs. Illya moved quickly, but not quickly enough to avoid the copped feel of his right buttock followed by a short, delighted laugh. He made it to the top in record time and as he exited the cellar a voice called, "Come back anytime for more!"
"Don't count on it," escaped from tight lips as a grumble. Illya tugged at the open shirt in an effort to regain his dignity and headed to room 214.
*******
"My feet are killing me!"
Tessa and Kiki, shoes in hand and slung over their shoulders, made their way down the hall and to their room breathy with excitement.
"I'm all sweaty from dancing but I'm not ready to call it a night yet!"
"Neither am I! I heard they have a real band in the discotheque starting at 9. Want to see it?"
Tessa searched for the room key in her tiny, fringed purse. "Of course! I don't plan on sleeping at all until Daddy picks us up!" It took three tries before she finally got the key in the keyhole. "Let's hit the steam room - Daddy always said it refreshed him - then clean up and find the band. That should make us fashionably late!"
She pushed the door open and the pair stumbled into the room, tossing their shoes aside in the living area. Tessa pushed the door shut behind them.
"Hey!" Kiki said brightly. "Look at this!" She picked up the chilled bottle from the wine cooler on the coffee table.
"Wow, they sure keep the bubbles flowing."
"It's from a concerned party." The man's voice from a shadowy corner made the girls jump with a shriek. Tessa and Kiki huddled together next to the low table as a slight blond man stepped into the light. Illya held his hands out to show that he was unarmed. "You are in great danger and I'm here to help you."
"S . . . s . . . stay away from us, mister!" Kiki gripped Tessa's arm tightly.
"Yeah! I know karate, you know! I could kill you with my . . . my . . . feet! So watch it!" Tessa stood firmly on her two bare feet in a threatening stance but her wide eyes were unconvincing.
"No, listen." Illya said calmly. "I'm not here to hurt you; I'm here to help you. You've been kidnapped."
"Kidnapped?" Kiki laughed. "Are you kidding?"
Tessa sidled to the phone on the end table. Kiki stuck to her side like glue as the princess snatched up the receiver and dialed. "My daddy told me about characters like you! I talked to him today! Stay away from us or we'll scream!"
"No, don't!" Illya leaped forward to grab the phone. Kiki picked up a heavy glass ashtray from the end table and flung it at him, connecting squarely with his head. Illya stumbled in their direction, dazed. The girls shrieked again and scattered in opposite directions. They immediately launched a counter attack with all the small items in the room, screaming. The telephone receiver dangled to the floor and monitored the entire confrontation.
"GET AWAY FROM US!"
"No! You don't understand! I'm here to help . . ." The unstructured assault was fast, brutal and painful. The agent dove for shelter behind the sofa and tired to plead his case, but the screaming girls couldn't hear him. In a matter of seconds, the door flew open and two uniformed men burst in, guns drawn.
"He's over there!"
Illya leaped up and shoved the couch at the two men running at him. The lead man's legs were taken out from under him and as he flew through the air, the second man stopped and took aim. Illya ducked and grabbed the closest item from the floor that he could throw. Tessa's shoe struck the guard squarely in the forehead heel first, and was followed closely by the wine bucket spilling ice cubes like a contrail. A sound 'clang!' sent the man reeling as his partner struggled to his feet.
The balcony was the only path open to him and the agent took it. He vaulted over the metal rails, hung from the lower bar and swung to the patio below. From there he leaped to a close tree branch, shimmied down the trunk and hit the ground. Two bullets struck the trunk by his head as he ducked and ran into the darkness of the thick landscape. The loud music from the pool area covered the sound of the shots as the party continued.
Tessa and Kiki pulled themselves together quickly. The guards assured them the intruder would be caught quickly and started to leave.
"Hey, wait a minute!" Tessa called out. The princess squared her shoulders and straightened her blouse. "Call housekeeping to clean this up." The guards hesitated and looked at each other in surprise. "Well, you certainly don't expect us to do it! We have plans! Come on Kiki." She took her friend's hand and they marched to the bedrooms to change. One guard finally shrugged and moved to the telephone strewn across the floor.
**********