The Brown Fedora Affair, part 1 of 1

By Vicki "Taz" Titus vhtitus98@yahoo.com Genre: Gen Rating PG13 Feedback is always welcome. Please, Please! On or off list - up to you Artwork courtesy Agent Ross, Sepia and Ellen To visit Ellen's web page for more art-Click here.             Disclaimer: This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.

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Illya stood on the deck of the ferry, watching his quarry, one of a pair of men he and Napoleon had been following since breakfast.

The agents had come to Venice for a few days of 'rest and relaxation'. Napoleon had insisted on adjoining rooms: close enough if problems arose, but far enough away to allow for 'a bit of privacy'.

Just as Illya finished getting dressed that morning, Napoleon knocked on the connecting door. When he opened the door, he was surprised to find the older agent scribbling in his U.N.C.L.E. notebook

Napoleon looked up from his notes. He told the Russian that HQ had contacted him. They wanted two men who were staying at the hotel watched. Even though they were technically on vacation, the Russian knew that work came first.

It was fortuitous that the men had been staying at their hotel, the best in the city. They had found them in the hotel restaurant, eating breakfast. They both looked American, brawny men even taller than Napoleon. The larger of the two wore a brown trench coat and a fedora hat the same color. He walked with a barely noticeable limp. The smaller one, shorter by only one inch, wore a bulky gray and black coat and no hat.

After breakfast, he and Napoleon had followed the men, as they traveled by ferry through the ancient city. At the first scheduled stop, both men had a brief exchange of words. Afterward, the man without a hat ran off the boat toward a ferry going in the opposite direction and jumped on just as it began to move away from the dock. The first man stayed on the original ferry, which also pulled out of its berth almost immediately.

"I'll stay with the one without the hat," Napoleon had called, as he jumped off the moving ferry. Illya nodded his agreement, moving closer to the limping man with the brown fedora. That had been a half hour ago.

During the brief surveillance, the Russian stood in the bow of the ship. He watched the man as he sat in one of the benches that lined each side of the ferry, not moving. Illya lifted the collar of his coat, hoping to keep out as much of the November chill as he could. Shoving his hands into the coat's massive pockets, he trained his attention on the limping man, trying to ignore the cold.

The agent tried to understand the actions of the men. He chided himself for missing something. He could not fathom why the men were acting as they did, and why HQ would want the men, who seemed to be acting like tourists, followed.

His quarry continued to ride the boat to the next stop. With halting steps, the man in the brown fedora used the ships ramp to disembark. Slowly, he made his way to another ferry. This new boat was also backtracking, just like the one the man Napoleon was following had taken.

The man's limping gait was slow. He often blocked Illya's attempt to maneuver. In fact, the man's awkward movements almost made it impossible for the agent to switch boats. Finally, he was able to jump to the dock from the side of the ferry, and followed the man onto the second boat.

They repeated the same pattern as before: the man sitting, Illya watching. Finally, the ferry returned to the point where all 4 men had boarded earlier in the day. The man in the hat disembarked, followed quickly by the Russian.

Illya's quarry limped back to the hotel. When the Russian followed the man into the lobby, he entered just in time to see the man in the fedora walk into the elevator at the far end of the room. By watching the numbers above the elevator doors light in sequence, he could tell it had stopped on the third floor. Charging up the nearby stairs, he reached the third floor landing just in time to see the man in the fedora enter one of the rooms.

The Russian walked slowly toward the doorway he had seen his quarry limp through. Making note of the room number, he continued down the hall to a small sitting area beyond. He was surprised to find Napoleon already sitting there.

The older agent smiled at him and commented, "So your man came back here, too."

"Maybe they decided the cold was not to their liking," the Russian observed wryly.

"Before my man came back up here, he spent some time in the banquet hall downstairs next to the mechanical room. Why don't you check out that room while I stay here and make sure no one leaves?

Nodding his agreement, Illya proceeded downstairs. When he reached the banquet hall main doors, he found them locked. Walking down the hall surrounding the massive room, he made his way into the kitchen. The room was abuzz with activity. Claiming to be a local health inspector, he proceeded through the room, seemingly checking for problems amid the chaos.

Exiting through one of the kitchen's swinging doors, he walked into the banquet room. The Russian was surprised to find the room darkened; the level of activity in the kitchen would indicate that some event was going on. Hoping to cast some light over the gloom, he reached into his coat pocket to retrieve a small flashlight he kept there.

Just as he pulled the flashlight out, he heard the distinctive sound of a key inserted into a lock. Ducking back into the kitchen, he peered out into the banquet hall through one of the diamond shaped windows in the swinging door.

He could immediately identify the backlit silhouette as belonging to Napoleon. Reassured, he pushed through the kitchen doors.

The overhead lights suddenly flashed on, bathing the room in light. Illya tightened his eyes into slits, trying to adjust to the brightness.

As his vision slowly cleared, he heard a choir of voices yelling 'surprise' in unison. Eyes widening, he was surprised to see several people stepping out from behind columns throughout the hall. At the very back of the room were the two men he and Napoleon had been following. He quickly deduced that the surveillance had been a ruse to keep him occupied as the guests arrived at the hotel. Probably agents, too, Illya realized.

Napoleon quickly crossed the massive room to stand next to Illya. "Happy birthday, partner," he exclaimed, handing the Russian an elaborately wrapped package.

Scanning the room, he recognized the faces of the agents, including April and Mark. He also found a small stack of presents on one of the tables in the room.

"But my birthday isn't until next week," the Russian stammered as he looked down at the package the older man had passed him. The fact that his partner had surprised him left him both pleased, for obvious reasons, but also a little disquieted. What kind of a section two agent was he if Napoleon could arrange this without him catching on?

Napoleon easily detected the young man's discomfort. "It's amazing how much I could get done when I have a 'bit of privacy'." He smiled at Illya, fully aware of the assumption the younger agent would have made. "I knew exactly what you would be thinking and used it as a cover. It's about the only way I could think of to surprise you, Tovarishch," the older agent quipped.

A half-smile graced the Russian's face. He was indeed surprised by his friend's efforts, and more than a little pleased that he would go to such extremes to do so.

Part of him was also a little thankful that Napoleon was on his side. Finally relaxing, Illya's smile grew as he added. "Thank you, Tovarishch!"

The End