Tourist Affair

Napoleon stood a few feet away from his partner and decided to do something to get some comment from his stoic partner.  He took the camera that was hanging down from his neck and aimed it at his sullen partner.  When he was ready, he called out, “Illya, smile.” 

Illya turned and he snapped a photo of his partner as he gave him a small scowl.

“Oh what a look,” Napoleon commented as he lowered the camera and let it hang on its strap.

“What was that for?” he asked thinking why his friend was doing something insane.

Stepping close to his partner, he answered his partner’s question.  “Hush, we are supposed to be playing tourist remember?” Napoleon said low enough that only his stubborn cohort could hear.

Illya shook his head.  This whole assignment was getting to him.  Following a man around the city, over bridges, through squares, on gondolas, and ferry rides.  The man was going from museums to churches and then some.  The man went to the best restaurants and even admired several beautiful women.

Now they rode on a water taxi on the Grand Canal.  Their mark, one Mr. David Young, was traveling around Venice with the eventual act of meeting up with a THRUSH recruiter.

Mr. Young had family money to burn and apparently had the feeling that he would like to partake in taking over the world.  He may have money and prestige in his own country but he wanted to have control of more than just that.  He wanted in on the global picture, one common government to rule the world.

UNCLE was involved for he had let it be known his plans to one of his many bedroom girlfriends in England what his plans were.  Little did he know, that one of them was an UNCLE agent that had been gaining his confidence for some time.

Illya settled to lean against the railing where Napoleon stood.

“Two days of sight seeing.”

“What are you complaining about?  This mission so far has been easy.”  Napoleon had enjoyed the holiday time.  If he let himself, he could do it more often, and being with Illya was an added bonus to the affair.

“If you were into such luxuries,” he scuffed.  In his home country such luxuries were what they condemned.  That, and in all honesty to himself, he felt out of place among the riches that they seemed to masquerade in.

“What is wrong with staying at a four star motel, great meals, and lovely ladies to look at?”

“Napoleon, this is not me, I am but a simple man.”

Napoleon leaned closer and whispered in his ear, “You are by far not a simple man, I for one know that all to well.”

Illya turned his head, thinking how tempting it would be to kiss his friend, but alas, they were on a mission.  “And you will be good to remember that.”

Napoleon stood straighter and smiled at this partner.  The last two days of going through expensive places, eating expensive meals, dressing in elegant ways.  Last evening they had spent in a private casino.

He smiled in memory of the evening.  They had heard through their bugs in his room that Young had gotten an invitation to a private club for his evening entertainment.

Upon hearing the arrangements for the evening, Napoleon called up the chief of the Venice office.  “Lawrence… fine. Seems Mr. Young has gotten himself an invitation to the Dogge club. … Yes, I know.  Anyway can you get us an invite? … No problem?  Good.  Can you get me a line of credit, of say, $100,000.”

Illya shook his head.

“Come on now,” Napoleon said with good-natured plea, “I got Solo luck.”

Illya commented, “five out of ten times it fails you.”

Covering the phone, Napoleon answered his friend, “You and I know that, but he doesn’t have to know that.”

Napoleon continued with his conversation with Lawrence then finished his call feeling proud of himself.  “You and I will have an invite to the private club, The Dogge.  And I will have a bankroll of 100,000 to play with.”

“And the game of chance you are playing?”

“I believe I’m in the mood for 21.”

“Well let’s hope your luck will be on the upswing.  Waverly was not happy the last time you stepped into a Casino.”

Illya went to the closet to pull out their tuxedos.  Napoleon told him to bring his just incase they needed it.  “Well it least it wasn’t a waste to bring these.”

Napoleon came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist..  “I love seeing you in yours.”

“You just like seeing me in a suite, since you mock me so much of my turtle neck.”

Napoleon moved to kiss the neck of his partner, “Because you are always covering your neck.  Ever wonder how much kissing I would do if you left it open to kiss.”

“Ever wonder to think I cover it so you can’t kiss it every chance you got?  I would never get any work done.”

“Your problem is you have no romance.”

“Your problem is you always try to get your way.”

Napoleon knew that was true.  He reluctantly pulled away and started for the bathroom.  “Let me jump in first to the shower and get ready.”

“Yes, you go first, you do take longer to maintain your fashionable look.”

They had arrived to the Casino and entered the gilded paradise.  Illya scanned the room as Napoleon checked in their overcoats.  Their mark, Mr. Young, was already drawing a crowd at the roulette table.

Napoleon came to stand beside Illya, “Looks like you should change your game plan,” Illya commented.

“Roulette? To easy to rig.”

“So I get to watch him as you get to play?” Illya asked getting the gest of the game.

“You got it my man.”

“And who is going to watch you?”

“If I have anything about it, perhaps, 5’5”, blond hair, with a great personality.”

Illya was not jealous.  It was a way for Napoleon to seek his other outlet.  He loved to flirt, but he knew whom he was going home with.

“Well don’t make a mockery of yourself.  That is Mr. Waverly’s money you are spending.”

“And I feel lucky tonight.”

“Whatever you say Napoleon.”

Napoleon stepped into the room and started working the room in his style.  Illya split his attention between the two, Mr. Young with his two escorts, and Napoleon who did find a woman who fit his profile for the evening.

Young had an up and down night at the table, drinking and sharing jokes and stories with his two companions.  Napoleon did seem to have a run of luck for the evening.  Illya noted to himself that it would mean that Napoleon would be gloating most of the evening.

By midnight, Young gathered his chips and started to the cage.  Illya motioned his head when he caught Napoleon checking on him.  Napoleon started himself folding his hand and saying his condolences in leaving his female companion.

They returned to their room at the villa, finding that Mr. Young had returned by himself to have a restful night. 

Napoleon did gloat about his winnings to Illya, who did his best to ignore him.

Napoleon was brought out of his memories; by Illya nudging him, “We are coming to the end of our journey.”  Before them was the dock for the square that adjoined the art museum.

They had heard through the bug in the room, that Mr. Young had booked a personal guide to go through the museum.  The plan of action was to split up once inside, and keep an eye on him from a far.

It was a short walk from the canal.  The baroque style of building from the gilded age was home to the art museum. They entered into a large foyer and paid for a guidebook each to get a plan of the museum.  Illya headed upstairs while Napoleon managed his time near the front, waiting for their man to arrive.

He didn’t have to wait long, ten minutes later; Mr. Young arrived and was met by a lady with a nametag, stating she was guide for the museum.

Napoleon was about to move ahead to the first gallery when he spotted a known character from his past, Simon Tibet.  Napoleon quickly ducked behind a tall display, and pulled out his communicator.

Activating his pen, he buzzed Illya. 

“Kuryakin.”

Quietly, Napoleon informed his partner, “Thrush is here, Simon Tibet.”

Illya moved to peer over the mezzanine. “Yes, it does seem to me that we have contact.”

“Think we can get them out with little fan fair?”  Napoleon had looked over his map, but logistics of such was not his forte’.

“Back corner, emergency exit.  See if we can have a water vessel standing by,” was Illya’s first plan of action.

“I’ll call Lawrence.”

“I’ll see you below in the back gallery.”

Napoleon peered around the display to see Mr. Tibet and Mr. Young talking.  He changed channels and got Lawrence.  In five minutes, there would be boat outside the art museum ready to take them and their two guests to an undisclosed location.

Tibet was wanted just for being THRUSH, Young would be made to see the error of his thinking.

Napoleon stayed a safe distance back, as the men started to walk through the galleries.  They stopped time and again; making comments about the work that was before them.

As they entered the smaller gallery, Napoleon spied Illya in the far corner admiring a large piece.

As they neared the end of the gallery, Napoleon made a swift move to step beside Young, as Illya came to Tibet.

“Mr. Tibet, fancy meeting you here.” Napoleon said with his normal suave personality.

“Solo.  Yes, fancy meeting you here.”

Tibet and Young felt UNCLE specials against their backs.

“Gentleman, please, lets exit through the back shall we.  We have our own business to discuss with you.”

Little resistance was made as they exited by the emergency door and made their way across the walkway.  A motorboat was positioned with a captain that Napoleon recognized.  The escorted their men on board who were quickly disarmed and secured as the boat shoved off and made it’s way through the canal.

They delivered the men to Lawrence who was happy to see who was making the contact for THRUSH.   Tibet had been a thorn to more than one city manager for UNCLE in Europe with his meetings and dealings. They made their report in the later afternoon.  Mr. Waverly commented that it was to late to start back to New York, he would be expecting them in Monday at the desks.

Illya chuckled when Mr. Waverly had made the comment out loud to the men about not adding a new suit for once to the expense report.   Napoleon was impressed too, that he didn’t have to sacrifice a suit for the cause. 

On their way out of the office, Napoleon smiled to his partner.

“And what is that about?” questioned Illya, like he had to ask.  Three days before having to return home.  And they were in Venice.

“Come now my friend.  We are in a city that has so much to offer in richness.”

“We are in a city that can be explored.”

“Or we can just make our time in our room and relax for once.”

“Relax, you honestly think I would let you relax?”

“Well, I know for a fact after two times you sleep for at least six hours.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Challenge, from me?”

Waiting for their water taxi Napoleon looked to Illya.  “Brat.”

Illya gave him a rare smile.  Oh, he doubted they would get much sightseeing done.  Three days, he could only wonder if he could survive his friend’s constant attention.  He guessed that in three days they would find out.. 
 

@ 2005 Tommy Boy fan fiction * design and content by Paula C. *