(Authors note: This story was written in response to prompts from several of my site members to explain a small two line joke in "The Good Agent Affair" chapter 3. Hope you enjoy it.)
New York City
1933
It was a beautiful cool fall evening in New York. People scurried about, filling the sidewalks, restaurants and stores. Friday night was always jumping even in the depression torn city. Night Clubs jumped to the tunes of Cab Calloway, Duke Ellington and other magical masters of the Jazz era.
More refined palates could enjoy an opera at the downtown opera house basking in the glory of "Tristan und Isolde" or for those lovers of lighter opera Broadway offered "The H.M.S. Pinafore." There were dancehalls galore. Or those who could afford it could take in a Broadway show perhaps seeing the legendary George M. Cohan in "Ah, Wilderness."
In the heart of Manhattan it was difficult to believe that the country was in anything but a grand and glorious surge of financial tranquility.
Two figures dragged themselves wearily up the sidewalk, their tattered attire un-noticed, and their bodies unaffected by the push-and-shove of the crowded walkway. The younger of the two took off his hat to wipe his brow. A man passing in a dark cashmere coat flipped a quarter into the hat and kept walking.
The oldest of the Mutt-and-Jeff pair began to laugh as he saw his friend's indignant expression. But the man slipped the coin in his pocket and they continued on to their hotel.
Tired and weary, Bill Del Floria stumbled into the hotel room, tossed his Webley on the pillow and plopped face down on the bed. His partner Alexander Waverly was in pretty much the same shape, as he too found his way across the room.
Waverly fell back in the pump high-back horsehair chair near the window. One arm dangled over the arm of the chair as the other reached over, bruised fingers pulling the curtains back just a touch.
"One of us needs to report in," Alexander said slowly.
Bill mumbled something into the duvet, muffled, but with enough sarcastic tone for his partner to take the hint. The other man smiled.
Waverly's arms hurt. His back hurt. His legs hurt. About the only thing that wasn't racked with pain were his eyes and his libido. He had already arranged a tete-a-tete with a young lady he met in the hotel lobby earlier in the day. How was he going to make it in his current condition? It was everything he could muster to reach for his portable radio transmitter.
"Open Channel D. Overseas relay. Colonel Dickering," Waverly said.
There were a few seconds of static as the transmission bounced to its final destination.
"Dickering here, ready for your report Mr. Waverly."
"Yes Sir. Del Floria and I followed the THRUSH operative to a large home located on the long Island Sound. It was occupied by approximately eight THRUSH Operatives who were operating the main arms depot. Once we flushed out the nest, we continued to a small flat here in New York City. Our back-up followed us in. We managed to capture four THRUSH operatives including the satrap Chief who were using the flat as headquarters."
"Excellent work gentlemen, excellent work. Any issues, casualties…"
"Only a few scrapes and bruises, Sir. Agent Arger did break two fingers but not on his shooting hand."
"Very well. I will expect the complete report on my desk when you return. Your flight leaves New York and 0-ten hundred hours tomorrow. Enjoy the rest gentlemen. Your next Affair is waiting for your return."
Del Floria lifted his head and grimaced. Even Waverly had been hoping for at least a few days rest.
"Yes sir," both men said.
"Channel D closed."
The radio went silent.
"Are you going to tell him HOW Arger broke his two fingers?" Willie Del Floria said grinning.
"It wasn't my fault if that's what you're implying."
"Oh yes, of course. Doge should have known better then to stick his hand under your big feet."
Waverly raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth twisted slightly.
"If I weren't so tired," he said, "I would shoot you."
Del Floria smiled and rolled his face back into the blanket making a slight laugh then a heavy sigh.
Two hours later…
Alexander finished buttoning up his dress shirt, tucked it into his trousers and wrapped the silk tie around his neck. He checked his face closely in the mirror to assure he had shaved as cleanly as possible. A quick thumb across the eyebrow and he gave himself a reassuring wink.
This wasn't arrogance. It was just Waverly. He was an extremely handsome young man, tall, broad in the shoulders, straight in the back. Warm inviting eyes and a thick mane of beautiful black hair. He had shaved his moustache off several years back but was seriously thinking of letting it grow back.
He was finishing up the tie when Willie walked up to the open bathroom door.
"So where are the two of you going?" Del Floria asked.
"Hopefully the Stork Club," came the reply.
"Fancy…and expensive."
"If not we will just come back to the hotel for little room service," Waverly said smiling slyly, "And then maybe a bit of dinner as well."
Del Floria gave his partner a light shove and heard Alex laugh. He walked over and turned the water on in the shower.
Alexander opened a small leather bag and took out a small bottle. He opened it and shook some of the liquid onto his hands.
"Ah-d-Toilet," Willie said picking up the bottle and looking at the label, "Why the hell do you want to smell like a toilet for your date?" He smiled and bit his lip.
Waverly snatched the bottle from his friend and sat it back on the sink. He fought hard to contain his own smile that was trying to cross his face as he liberally applied the liquid to his face and neck
"It is pronounced o-da-twa-let," Waverly said, "Heathen." The smile broke through. "It means aromatic waters, replenishment for the skin. Women love it, although it can be very compromising when on an assignment." He rubbed his hands together, spreading the remaining liquid and then brushed them gently across his thick wavy hair.
He was ready.
"You look beautiful," Willie said sarcastically, "Now move."
Alexander laughed and stepped aside so his friend could freshen up.
"So what are your plans for the evening?" he asked adjusting his tie.
"Are you kidding?" Del Floria said hanging his robe on the edge of the door, "Someone has to get started on the paperwork. You heard what Colonel Dickering said, he wants the reports the minute we get back. And I'm not doing them tomorrow morning on the plane."
Alexander walked out of the bathroom door. He felt an incredible sense of guilt, putting the paperwork off on his partner. He stopped at the dresser and picked up his jacket, slipping it on. He looked at his watch and made a sigh.
Del Floria was busily splashing about in the shower by now. The hot water felt terrific on his sore muscles.
"Willie….Bill," Alex shouted, "I'll go make my apologies to the young lady and come back to give you a hand."
Del Floria smiled. Sometimes that was all he wanted to hear. An offer of help from his partner, sincere in its simplicity, he could tell by the tone.
"That's alright Alex," he yelled back over the running water, "Go have fun. But you owe, me remember that."
Alexander Waverly made one more quick adjustment to his attire, secured the door and started off down the hallway.
Bill Del Floria stretched his tired arms over his head and bent his back to get the stiffness out of it. He glanced over at the bedside clock. Nearly two-am already. He looked over the completed report one last time, closed the folder and slipped it into his valise, securing both in the locked desk drawer.
He tossed his robe on the chair and slipped into the cool of the sheets. It was nice to lie down without being strapped down at the same time. It was comforting to know that the soft pillow beneath his head would remain beneath his head and not cover his face cutting off his air.
He thought about Sarah, his beautiful girl back in England. He smiled as he thought about her, and then sighed when he thought how sad it was that his best friend and partner might never know what true love was. The type of love he and Sarah felt for one another.
The tired agent was almost asleep when he heard a light tapping on the door. He sat up, leaning on his elbows and listened again. It was definitely someone tapping on the door. He climbed out of bed, picked up his gun and headed for the door.
"Yes," he said, leaning his ear to the door, gun at the ready.
"Let me in…I forgot my key," a voice whispered back.
Del Floria turned on the light. Leaving the chain on the door, he opened it just a crack to check.
Before he knew it two large men burst through the door, nearly throwing him across the room. The Webley dropped to the floor and slid under the bed. Willie made a dive for his weapon only to have his legs grabbed by one of the intruders.
"Where did you stinking U.N.C.L.E. agents take our Chief?" one of the men snarled.
"Long gone…" Willie said struggling for the gun once more.
Del Floria felt himself jerked from the floor with such force he was certain he would go clear through to the ceiling. He came down hard on his feet, feeling his ankles give slightly from the force. A fist caught him squarely on the jaw sending his head into a swim. He shook it off.
The second man was checking the room. He walked out of the bathroom.
"Nobody else here," he said, "Where is your partner?"
"Who do you think is escorting your boss?"
The man tossed Del Floria against the wall as if he were a ragdoll. Both men advanced and began to pummel the U.N.C.L.E. agent. A sharp punch to the gut sent Willie to his knees, clutching his midsection.
Del Floria came back up from the floor, his fists catching both men just under their chins. They staggered back; both form the blow and the complete surprise of it. A judo chop to neck sent one reeling a few feet back against the dresser. Willie grabbed the other by the wrist and executed a perfect jujitsu flip, sending the second man against his friend.
The two dazed THRUSHes got to their feet and came at him again.
Willie made a dash for the door. One of the THRUSH operatives sent a well placed kick into the agents back and he was down again.
The two THRUSH men picked him up and dragged the stunned agent into the bathroom. One grabbed two towels from the rack at the end of the shower. One towel quickly bound the agent's legs. They pulled his arms behind him and the second towel tightened around them.
"How about a swim?" the THRUSH said.
Willie watched one man lift the lid of the commode, leaving the seat in place. He felt his head forced down into the hole of the seat and took a deep breath in preparation of what was coming. His head submerged into the water and was held for a few moments.
"He's holding his breath," he heard a muted voice say.
A punch to the kidneys knocked the breath out of him and Del Floria felt a rush of water into his lungs as he gasped. They pulled him out and then dunked him again. He felt the cold porcelain of the bowl edge press against his throat. Much more pressure and his windpipe would be crushed. He felt the repeated blows of the heavy lid against the back of his head.
Alexander stepped out of the elevator, his hair in disarray, tie undone, and an expression of complete satisfaction on his face. He strode across the hall and headed towards the room he and his partner were sharing. Hands thrust in his trouser pockets, small smudges of lipstick still on his cheek and shirt collar.
He was almost to the turn in the hallway when he heard something.
Alexander stopped. He knelt down as if tying his shoe. His hand slipped inside his trouser leg and he slowly removed the small derringer from the garter holster. Pressing against the wall he eased his way around the corner and saw the door to their room was slightly ajar.
Willie was slowly losing consciousness. With each breath he tried to take more water found its way into his body. He could taste the blood from the back of his head as it slowly dripped down the sides of his face into the water. The sounds of the men's voices were disappearing.
Two shots were all it took. Waverly shoved the bodies of the two dead THRUSHes aside. He quickly raised the lid and pulled his partner back, throwing water everywhere. He felt for a pulse first in wrist then the neck. Nothing.
Alexander's heart was in his throat as he began to cautiously put pressure on his partner's chest. He tried for a pulse once more. Still nothing.
"Dammit Willie, come on," he said through clenched teeth.
A few more presses. Willie choked. Water spewed from his mouth and nose. He coughed and took a breath so deep it seemed to Alexander that he was trying to suck in all the air in the room.
Waverly helped his friend to his feet and into the room. He laid Willie on the bed. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, Alex folded it and pressed it against the back of Del Floria's head to try and stop the bleeding. His other hand reached for the phone.
Realizing he couldn't hold both sections of the candlestick phone and the bandage at the same time he removed his tie and used it to hold the pressure bandage in place. He saw Willie cringe in pain.
Alexander grabbed the phone and rang the desk. He had them call for an ambulance.
"Help is on the way, partner," he said sitting on the bedside next to his friend, "So…" he continued trying not to laugh, "decided to try a little toilet water yourself, eh?"
He saw a hint of a smile on Willie's face.
"Yeah..," he said slowly, "But the lid kept falling down."
Alexander laughed and gave his friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder.