She was breathtaking; dressed in a silk embroidered red kimono, a wide grey sash wrapped around her waist and tied in a precise bow at her back. Silver combs graced her black hair, sparkling as she moved slowly across the room, bowing oh so elegantly to her American visitor.
"Mister Solo, welcome."
"I'm honored Lady Michiko Napoleon gave a formal bow in return.
UNCLE had been tasked to accompany a rare and valuable piece of Japanese art, an heirloom and treasure belonging to the Tokugawa family. It was to be loaned to the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York for a special exhibit on Japanese art of the Edo period.
In 1853 Commodore Perry of the United States Navy sailed into Edo Bay with the intention of opening Japan to foreign trade. Through the threat of force of arms, the likes of which the Japanese Emperor and his people had not seen it's like; Perry was able to conclude a treaty with Japan called the Convention of Kanagawa, which opened extra Japanese ports to foreign trade and paved the way for the establishment of a permanent American events paved the way for a cultural exchange between Japan and the West. It was also the beginning of the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate, the last of the Shoguns.
They were was a hereditary military governors in Japan were the de facto rulers of the country, though officially they were appointed by the emperor.
As Napoleon was welcomed, two attendants accompanying the Lady, opened a pair of sliding doors, revealing a tokonoma, an alcove for decorative items in a traditional home.
In this case it was the location of a silk portrait of a Japanese woman dressed in a red kimono that hung on the wall. It was a portrait of Katsumi, the wife of the Shogun, Tokugawa Yoshinobu who ruled the clan in the late 1800's.
The Lady Michiko, the direct descendant of Tokugawa Yoshinobu was a dead ringer for Katsumi. Napoleon couldn't help but admire her classic beauty and the way her attendants saw to him, moving with a graceful deliberateness.
After being offered a dark kimono with intricate embroidery, Solo was served tea, seated on a zabuton... a low chair at a table also low to the floor. There was little conversation, as the drinking of tea was a formality that had be be observed. Lady Michiko performed the ritual herself; it was a tradition based on Taoism, with influence from Zen Buddhism as well. Powdered green tea, is prepared by a skilled practitioner and served to their guests in a tranquil setting. There was no conversation as it was all about the ritual of serving and drinking the tea.
Once the ceremony had been completed, the Lady bid Solo good evening, disappearing into her private quarters..
"My name is Shinju,"one of the attendants introduced herself with a bow. "If you will follow me, I will show you to your room."
Dressed more simply than her mistress in a tan and white kimono; Napoleon smiled as he followed behind her, watching the way she walked. It was as if she were gliding across the floor.
Everything was traditional throughout the house, with doors that were merely screens, slid open by his attendant separating each room.
Shinju pointed out the bathroom to him, that thankfully, had modern plumbing.
Still, the agent gave no reaction,
"Arigatō, Miss Shinju," he said, thanking the young lady as he bowed to her; letting her close the doors after herself.
The first thing Napoleon did was scan the room, looking for anything untoward; taking note his suit jacket had been carefully hung on the one modern addition to his room, a valet stand.
His suitcase was set in the corner, and had not been tampered with in anyway. He'd strategically placed a miniscule piece of paper beneath the latch and was still there, undisturbed.
Opening his valise, he took out his grey silk pajamas, laying them aside.
Lastly Napoleon drew his communicator from his shirt pocket as he loosened his tie and shirt buttons.
"Open Channel F."
"So how did it go?" Illya Kuryakin answered.
"Just peachy. The Lady Michiko goes for the real deal, traditional bedding to say the least." Napoleon eyed the mat on the floor..
"Ah Washitsu."
"If you mean a futon on the floor?"
"Washitsu means Japanese style, tatami mats, shoji screens...that is no hinged doors."
"You know I don't know why you weren't sent in here instead of me? You at least speak the language whereas I only know words...well, ones not so appropriate for the Lady of the house."
"Ah yes, G.I. pillow talk."
"Well I was on leave here a few times when I was stationed in Korea, but I stayed in a Western style hotel and only visited a geisha house for…"
"What you visited were not true geisha, I suspect."
"You know chum, let's discuss the finer points of a real geisha another time. In the
meantime, how's your end of the assignment going?"
"Everything is going according to plan, though my rear end is telling me otherwise. Now get a good night's sleep as we will have an early start in the morning. The car is arriving precisely at 7 a.m. You know the Japanese and their penchant for punctuality."
"Yes I know, and where exactly are you, may I ask?"
"For the moment I am right outside entrance to the compound, sitting in a rather large tree and looking at you with a pair of binoculars."
"Voyeurism... I didn't think you were into that?"
"Good night Napoleon."
Solo chuckled; nothing seemed to faze the Russian at times. "Good night ."
He washed up and changed into his pajamas, hanging his trousers with his suit jacket before lowering himself to his so-called bed. He'd had less comfortable accommodations courtesy of THRUSH, so this really wasn't that bad, then again he didn't envy his partner having to sit in a tree all night long either.
Napoleon planned to go over there route to the airport and double check their time table. He laid the necessary materials beside himself as he tried to settle in to do his reading.
Wiggling and shifting position; he just couldn't get himself comfortable. Napoleon climbed across the mat, choosing to sit cross legged, laying the paperwork in his lap.
After a few minutes he suddenly felt very drowsy, and could barely keep his eyes open. His head nodded and jerked as he fought to stay awake, but finally Napoleon lost the battle; he fell forward...out cold.
His communicator chirped almost immediately but Napoleon didn't hear it at all.
Illya, watching the entire scene, had decided to make the call to keep his partner awake but when the American fell flat on his face, not answering; the Russian leapt down from the tree. He charged across the compound towards the front door.
Finding it open; he stepped in, walking quietly with his gun drawn. Illya found several servants collapsed on the floor, and heading to Lady Michiko's quarters, he found her passed out as well.
In the alcove next to ceremonial room there stood two figures clothed completely in black; they had the painting of Katsumi in their hands and were rolling it up to place in a protective tube.
"Stop! Teishi! The Russian called out, aiming his Special at them. He saw one of them reach into his tunic, and throwing something; Illya was blinded by a flash as the room filled with smoke.
Kuryakin ducked but not in time to completely save himself. He felt a sharp pain in his left bicep. It was a Ninja throwing star called a A shuriken in Japanese it meant literally: "sword hidden in user's hand") It was a traditional concealed weapon that was used for throwing, or sometimes for stabbing or slashing. He was lucky the throwers aim was off, otherwise it could have killed him.
The red smoke got into his lungs, and Illya dropped to his knees coughing and hacking. Minutes later when it cleared, the men were gone as was the priceless the silk portrait of Lady Katsumi.
Illya, once steady on his feet, pulled the shuriken from his arm. Nearby was a silken scarf belonging to the Lady and though expensive; Kuryakin didn't hesitate using it to bind his wound.
He headed through the house to find Napoleon and just as he opened the sliding fusuma door; he found his partner just coming to; holding his head.
"What the hell just happened? My head is killing me," Solo moaned.
"Napoleon, someone...men dressed as ninja have taken the silk portrait."
"The Lady Michiko?"
"Is unharmed as are the rest of the household as far as I can tell."
"Mr. Waverly isn't going to be happy about this," Napoleon got to his feet, quickly dressing himself.
"You call him then," Illya shoved his communicator into Solo's hand as he quickly disappeared out the door with the excuse of going to check on the others.
"Gee thanks," Napoleon mumbled." Channel D-overseas relay. Mr. Waverly."
"Mr. Solo it is three in the morning your time, so am I to presume there is a problem?"
He hesitated answering. "Well you see…"
Once Napoleon finished telling the Old Man what had happened, he bit his lower lip.
As predicted Alexander Waverly was not happy. The tone of his voice as he lectured his senior agent made that obvious.
"You do realize that silk paintings from the Edo period have a certain intrinsic value but because that one was specifically from the last Shogunate of Japan, and had a documented pedigree, it was deemed nearly priceless. It had been insured for nearly two million dollars American, a value seemingly unheard of Mr. Solo. I want you and Mr. Kuryakin to find it, and do so quickly. We need to prevent this from turning into an international incident."