"Yes Illya, faster!" He hiked her skirt up and pushed her against the wall. Her fingernails dug through the shoulder pads of his jacket as he rode her to ecstasy. She gasped as the orgasm rocked her tiny frame. The button on the desk began to beep that someone was approaching. Illya thrust a final time as his own climax hit. Napoleon sauntered into reception. She sat behind the desk typing idly while Illya sat on the edge of the desk clipping his identification badge to his breast pocket.
"Good morning, Jane." he smiled leaning over the desk. She rose to meet him and clipped his badge on. "Good morning Mr. Solo." Illya offered him a brief nod, "Napoleon." he then winked at the girl behind the desk. Napoleon chuckled at the futile gesture, "what have you been doing to this poor girl Illya, her face is all flushed." He walked through the door to Mr Waverly's office. Jane giggled. The Russian leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on her lips. She caught his arm as he turned to leave and popped her panties in his jacket pocket.
"Mr Kuryakin. Nice of you to join us." Waverly sat behind his desk brow furrowed. Napoleon smirked, "You're only embarrassing yourself with that girl. She'd never go out with you, Illya." Illya raised his hands in surrender, "Perhaps not."
"If you'll kindly pay attention, gentlemen a most pressing matter has arisen. It seems that not only Thrush is bent on world domination. We are facing a threat that we have never witnessed before. An underworld figure known as 'the Mongrel' has recently emerged and is threatening civilisation as we know it. Illya, what is that in your pocket?" Illya looked up like a deer in headlights. He yanked his hand out of his pocket, "my handkerchief." Waverly looked at Napoleon in exasperation then back to him, "well stop playing with it at once and pay attention."
"In the last few months' money, weapons, stocks and bonds have gone missing from some of the most secure facilities on the planet. Scientists from around the world with interests in every possible subject have gone missing for weeks on end and been returned without so much as a scratch. Memory intact and able to report to us the work they have been forced to do. The only detail they cannot give us is who captured them. Not once in their weeks of captivity did they glance another person who was not a scientist. It is a very odd matter. They were looked after well. There is no pattern, no rhyme or reason. It is our job to discover what these mad dogs are up to, who their leader is and ultimately disband or destroy them. Yes, Napoleon?"
Napoleon rose from his chair his brow creased in confusion, "mad dogs sir?" Waverly sat down and lit his pipe. "Yes. When I said there was no pattern I was misleading you slightly, I apologise. The only pattern is that all kidnapped subjects, monetary transfers and returns of these subjects took place at midday in the local area." Napoleon's brow furrowed in confusion, he looked to Illya for an answer. Illya smirked, "only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun." Napoleon pondered it, "If this syndicate has been working so efficiently for the better part of two months why are we hearing about it now." Waverly stood tall, defensive, "we have been monitoring things for some time. I have only recently decided to disclose this information to my most trusted agents. I trust I have not been mistaken." Napoleon looked at Illya's smirk, the question was clearly rhetorical.
Napoleon sipped his coffee in the cafe. "Where do we start when we have nothing to go on?" Illya shrugged, sipping his tea and looking around, "we could pick an English person at random and accost them. They say that everyone in the world is related via six degrees of separation." Solo chuckled as a small black puppy ran up to him. He stopped laughing when it bit his ankle and ran off. A young blonde woman ran behind it. She was in tears. "Prince! Come back! Oh sir I'm so terribly sorry. I don't know what's gotten into him." Napoleon got to his feet and flashed his award winning smile, "Now miss. Don't you worry in the slightest. My dear friend Mr Kuryakin here has a special understanding with dogs. He'll rescue your puppy. Why don't you join me here until he returns." Illya scowled as he stood up. He looked into the blonde girl's blue eyes and his scowl disappeared. She batted her eyelashes at him, "oh thank you sir. If anything happened to Prince I'm not sure what I'd do." "Don't you fret miss. I will not return until I find him." he dabbed at her eyes with his handkerchief, he kissed her hand watching Solo seethe from the corner of his eye. He took off jogging in the direction of the puppy. He stopped around the block. He hated dogs but the girl was very pretty with a beauty spot on her left cheek. She had even smiled at him before Solo. Napoleon turned to the girl when Illya disappeared around the corner, "he's very dedicated. now that's a beautiful accent, where did you say you were from?" she blushed, "England. Do you have the time? I must be meeting my uncle. Any moment now." Napoleon looked at his watch, "it's five minutes to twelve. Are you meeting your uncle somewhere close? Perhaps I could escort you" she stood up in alarm knocking over Illya's empty cup. "Oh I'm very late. I don't suppose you could phone me at my apartment when your friend finds my puppy, I'll come and pick him up and pay all expenses. I don't want to seem ungrateful but simply I must keep this appointment." Napoleon nodded, "of course." she handed him a slip of paper and kissed his cheek before running off in the direction of the puppy and Illya. Napoleon touched his cheek absently, her lipstick graced it. He paid the bill and sighed as he walked down the street, "a beautiful girl like that with an appointment with her uncle at midday." he stopped dead and turned towards the block corner. He pulled all the papers from his pockets and threw them down on the pavement. The note from the girl was not a telephone number. 'Only mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun. The Mongrel.' "Illya!" he pulled out his radio, "clear channel d find Illya Kuryakin."
Illya four and half blocks away scooped up the tired puppy and turned to head back when his radio alarmed. "Kuryakin here. Proceed." A sharp blow to the back of his neck and he fell to the ground. His eyes darted to his watch, it was midday.
Static answered Napoleon's frantic calling. He cringed. Waverly was not going to like this.