Title: Send in the Clowns
Author: NancyY
Disclaimer: SMK and its characters are copyrighted creations. This story was conceived and written for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended
Timeframe: The summer after the fourth season. For this story, the marriage is still secret.
Rating: PG - 13
You may consider this story as AU, since I've taken certain liberties with our intrepid super-spy. Please take any such liberties in the lighthearted way they were intended. I believe he remains firmly in character.
It was written awhile back, in response to a "U-Finish it" story challenge created by Cheryl and Lisa. Thank you Rita and Miriam, for the Beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
Feedback is appreciated in all its many forms.
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The scent was unmistakable--strong, tangy, and very out of place. Why did the Q Bureau smell like mustard?
Lee peered through the door and paused when another aroma tickled his nose. He couldn't place it, but it was familiar. It reminded him of warm summer days, long walks, and concerts in the park . . . the park? That was it--the pretzel stand in the park.
Next question. Why did his office smell like pretzels?
Familiar footsteps clicked down the hall behind him, and Amanda's warm hand rested against his back, as she leaned around to look and sniff. "Lee, why are there pretzels on our desks? Did we have a late night visit from the snack fairy?" She nudged him. "Go see."
A plump jumbo pretzel on a bright yellow napkin rested on the center of his blotter. Just a dusting of salt--with a little cup of mustard on the side for dipping--just how he liked them. Slipping out the napkin, he stared at it and then flipped it around.
Amanda squinted at the flowing script.
Meet me at Schneider's
1:00 p.m.
E.F.
"E.F. is Emily." She pulled the napkin from Lee's hand. "She wants us to meet her at Schneider's Pretzels? I wonder why? I didn't even know she was in the country. And why the cloak and dagger?"
Lee sat on the edge of his desk, munching his pretzel. He'd forgotten how much he liked them. "Did you expect anything else? Drama is in her blood. I just wonder how she got them in here without anyone noticing. I guess we'll have to ask her when we see her," he said between bites.
Brushing the last pretzel crumbs from his hands, his gaze settled on Amanda's desk.
No one would know if he did it. Well, no one but Amanda, and who would she tell?
All alone. Soft, warm, and wonderful, and all his for the taking.
Lee prowled across the room, his eyes locked on his target, stalking his prey. Amanda squealed and jumped behind her desk, but he was unfazed. The joy of the hunt--the thrill of the capture . . .
He lunged for the kill . . .
"Back off, Bucko. That's mine." Amanda smacked his hand away from her pretzel. Her eyes blazed as she challenged him. "You already ate yours."
So, she wanted to fight, did she?
He changed his tactics and snaked a lightening fast arm around her waist, crushing her against him and ignoring her startled gasp. Before she could protest, his lips found hers, and he growled, deep in his throat. He kissed her breathless. And speechless.
She didn't put up much of a fight when he snagged the pretzel from her desk and swaggered back to his own.
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The jingle of the bells over the door alerted the frazzled young woman behind the counter when Amanda and Lee stepped inside. "Just a minute," she called, from behind bins marked Garlic Cheese and Sourdough.
Amanda called back, "No problem, we're here to see Emily Farnsworth."
The baker stepped from behind the counter lugging a basket of steaming pretzels. She was young, petite, and very, very pregnant.
"Here." Amanda pulled the basket out of the younger woman's hands and thrust it at Lee. "You take these, and put them over . . . um . . .where?"
"Over by the oven." The baker wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron, and then stuck one out. "Hi, I'm Anna, and Emily is my husband's aunt."
Amanda clasped her hand warmly and held on, pulling Anna to a chair and easing her into it. "Why don't you rest a moment?"
Anna sighed and kicked off her shoes. "Great idea. Oh, wait, you said you were here to see Aunt Emily, right." She cupped her hands and bellowed, "Aunt Emily, THEY'RE HERE!"
Amanda was impressed. Such a strong voice, coming from such a small woman. She'd be able to cut right through the television, sibling squabbles, and Little League cheers with no problem.
Emily strode from the back of the store, with a curt nod for Lee and Amanda as she bustled by. "Anna, I'm going to close up for a bit, while you rest. I need to have a little talk with my friends here." She locked the door, flipped the sign from Open to Closed, and disappeared into the back, with Anna in tow.
Amanda had to admire Emily's whirlwind efficiency; she hadn't had time to say a word.
A moment later, Emily was back. Amanda covered the ground between them in three strides and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so glad to see you. I missed you."
Lee was only a step behind her. He put his arms around both of them, enveloping them in a three-way embrace.
"Darlings, as nice as this reunion is, I think we have a problem." Emily pulled away. "Come along." She led them behind the counter, past a darkened office. Amanda could just make out a pair of feet poking out from under a blanket on a cot against the wall.
"Shhh" Emily shut the door as she passed. "Let's let Anna rest, shall we? The poor thing is due any day. We can talk in here." She opened the last door and flipped on the light. The storeroom was tidy, with boxes and plastic wrapped packages of cups and paper plates stacked along the walls. Several damaged chairs stood sentinel in one corner, and three wooden crates took up most of the floor space. "Pull up a seat."
Amanda sat on the edge of a crate, while Lee settled next to her, shoulder to shoulder. Emily scooted a chair closer. She stretched her arms and sat. "Ah, it feels good to get off my feet. I don't know how people do this sort of thing for a living."
Amanda's curiosity was getting the best of her. She always enjoyed Emily's visits, but this situation was a little strange. "We're both happy to see you, but . . . Why the pretzels? Couldn't you just call?"
"Of course, I could have called, but how much fun would that be?" She patted Amanda on the knee. "You're too literal minded. You need to relax a bit, like Lee here."
Amanda looked up at the silly grin plastered across her partner's face. No help there. He seemed to be enjoying her attempt to make sense out of the whole thing. Her husband alone was bad enough, but put Lee and Emily together and what did she get? A regular couple of clowns.
Amanda made one last bid for an explanation. "Could you at least tell me how you smuggled the pretzels into the Q Bureau?"
"What and spoil the mystery?" When Amanda didn't reply, she shrugged. "Oh, all right. Just this once. It was Ragmop. He just can't resist a fresh baked pretzel. And there isn't anything he won't do for me. We go back a long way."
They went back a long way? Emily and Ragmop? She knew there had to be a story there.
"Why--?"
Emily laughed. "Let's just say that he's done me a favor--a time or two. Who better than Ragmop to help me perfect my cleaning woman cover?"
"Now, down to business. I brought you here for a purpose, my dears." Her expression darkened. "All fun and games aside, my people should be contacting your people, even as we speak. There's something strange going on."
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"Emily, why don't you start at the beginning?" Lee asked.
"It's a long story, but I'll try to make it brief. I flew in from London three days ago for a short sabbatical, to spend a little time with my family, visit with my grand nephews, and to help around the store. Believe me, with Anna's pregnancy, they can use the help. The Shriner's Circus seemed like a pleasant place to spend the afternoon with my grand nephews. Wouldn't you think?" Amanda and Lee nodded.
"Well, this whole affair started with the clowns." Emily paused as Lee shifted in his seat. "Are you all right?"
"Fine," he mumbled. "Please, go on."
"Well, as I was saying, there was a clown--I believe he was part of a sword-swallowing act--who looked very familiar. I watched his entire performance, but it wasn't until the act was over that I realized who he was. I believe his name is Aleksei Stroyev. He's with the KGB."
She stifled a yawn with one hand. "Sorry. I couldn't pursue it then because the children were with me, so I went back to the circus alone on Wednesday, and then again last night. Last night, I spotted two more Soviet agents, one Leonid Belov, and . . . oh, what's his name? Ah, yes--Yegor Chaika. They performed with the other clowns in the center ring.
"Do you have any idea why Soviet agents infiltrated the circus? Three operatives seem like overkill. And why the circus?" Lee asked.
"No idea at all." Emily shook her head. "I did overhear one of them mentioning Friday night."
"Why don't we find out the itinerary for tomorrow? It might give us an idea," Amanda said.
Lee uncrossed his legs and stood. "I'll call Billy."
Emily smiled. "I'll supply lunch."
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Twenty minutes later, they sat in the storeroom surrounded by the scattered remains of their meal. Amanda dabbed at a drop of mustard on her collar, while Lee brought them up to date.
"It looks like Friday's performance is a big charity affair--invitation only. Everyone who's anyone in Washington will be there. Legislators, officials, and national defense types." He shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "This makes it that much harder. Any of them could be a target for the KGB. It could be an information drop . . . an assassination . . . state secrets changing hands . . . I have no idea. This is impossible."
"You have no idea how much better that makes me feel."
Amanda smiled when Lee pivoted and stared at her. "Why would you say that?"
"Well, the last two times the three of us worked together, I had no idea what was going on. I just did what you told me to, kept my eyes open, and hoped for the best. It worked out for the best, didn't it?"
Lee nodded. "Yes, it did."
"So," Amanda continued, "let me get this straight. A crime hasn't been committed, and we don't know what's going to happen?"
"Right."
"So, we have no clue?"
"True," Emily said.
"We're working off of our instincts and flying by the seats of our pants."
"Definitely." Her husband's grin spread.
"It's just like old times then." Amanda brushed the pretzel salt off her jeans. "Well, we do have some information. We just need to get more, right? Why don't we infiltrate the circus and keep an eye on them?"
Lee wiped a crumb from her chin. "How can we do that? They'll spot us as quickly as Emily spotted them."
"I have an idea."
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"No way, Amanda--I'm not going to do it. There's only so much I can give for my country . . ." Lee paced back and forth across the storeroom floor, stepping around crates and weaving between the scattered chairs. "I will not dress up like a clown. Period!"
"Stand still for a moment. You're making me dizzy." Emily snagged his belt as he stormed by, pulling him up short. "I don't understand what the problem is. It's an elegant solution--with the costumes and the makeup . . ."
Lee took a deep breath and tried to pull away, then gave in reluctantly when she refused to let go. He felt the heat rising in his face. Why couldn't they drop it?
"I don't like clowns, okay. No big deal."
Amanda and Emily shared a look.
"Lee, are you . . . um . . . afraid of clowns?" He could hear the surprise and humor in Amanda's voice and struggled to loosen Emily's grasp. She was stronger than she looked.
"I AM NOT AFRAID OF CLOWNS!" He finally succeeded in freeing himself and resumed pacing. "That would be ridiculous. I . . .ah . . . just . . . well . . ."
On his next pass, Amanda hooked her fingers into his back pocket and pulled. "Lee, sit down."
He thumped down next to her on the crate, and her grip on his pocket loosened. She trailed her fingers up his back to the base of his neck. As she kneaded the tension from his muscles, he leaned into her touch.
"Look, it's perfect, and you know it," she said. "I read a story in the paper this morning. The Shriners Circus is holding a Clown College tomorrow morning, for anyone who wants to perform in the charity show. They do it every year. All we need to do is provide our own costumes and show up. Everyone who goes to the College can go to the charity event and perform, and the best clowns get to perform in the center ring. It's a perfect cover."
"Where can we get the costumes?" Emily asked. "I could whip something up, but there isn't much time."
Lee bowed his head. Why fight the inevitable?
"I can provide the costumes--or the Agency can. We have quite a selection in Supply . . . what?"
Amanda tugged on the back of his shirt. "Why does the Agency have clown costumes? Isn't that kind of a strange thing to have lying around? Somehow, I don't think of clowns when I think of spies."
"Well, ah, good . . . you're not supposed to. It makes sense, if you think about it, though. Clowns are ubiquitous at parades and parties. You see them everywhere, and the only people who pay any attention to them are the kids. A clown is almost invisible. The Agency even offered a balloon animal class a few years ago." He shook his head again. "And, no--I'm still not going as a clown. I can be a roustabout--a little razor stubble, some dirt--I'll fit right in."
"Please remember that Aleskei Stroyev was a circus performer before joining the KGB. He will certainly spot you, if you don't fit in," Emily said.
"Lee?" Amanda gave his shirt another tug.
"Hmmm?"
"What is it with you and clowns?"
"Sweetheart, you don't want to know."
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Amanda followed Lee down into the catacombs beneath the Agency, with Emily trailing behind. It was dark and dreary, with a spine tingling chill in the air.
Lee opened the door to the storeroom at the end of the hallway and flipped on the light. "Here you go, ladies. You can use anything in here."
"Why didn't I know about this one? You didn't tell me." Amanda wandered into the cavernous room, past the boxes of coats and jackets, between the shelves of hats and shoes, and came to a stop in front of the clothing racks stacked three high--floor to ceiling.
"I guess it never came up."
"Oh my gosh, how are we supposed to find anything in here?"
Emily bustled past Lee and strode to the center of the room. She planted her hands on her hips and nodded. "This is my specialty. Lee, you run along and leave the costuming to me."
An hour later, the costumes were taking shape.
Amanda sorted through the wigs, finally pulling a mass of bright green curls from the box. It would work with the vibrant pink and green shredded rags and oversized black clown shoes that made up her costume. Next, she pulled out a shoulder-length mix of gold tinsel and red ribbons. This one would match Emily's red, flowered muumuu.
She sat on a crate and took a breather. Emily patted the last box back into place against the wall and plopped down next to her, with a weary sigh.
"Well, that's it then. We're all set for tomorrow. Now, I think you and I should have a little talk."
Something in Emily's tone screamed a warning, and Amanda adopted what she hoped was a bland expression. "Sure. Emily, if your nephew can spare you, why don't you stay at my house tonight. It's closer, and, well . . . you know, the boys are staying with Joe for the week, and Mother is visiting one of her friends in Oregon. I have the house to myself, and I'd love to have you . . . "
Emily patted her hand. "What a kind offer. Thank you. I think I'll take you up on it. That will give us time to practice our routine. However, that's not what I want to talk about."
"Oh?"
"Stop stalling and cut to the chase." The sweet, grandmotherly facade dropped away, leaving a hard-boiled interrogator. "Well, out with it! Who do you think you're trying to kid? Should I offer you and Lee my congratulations?"
Amanda felt her heart skip a beat and hoped she didn't look as shocked as she felt. "What, what do you mean?"
"Don't even try that innocent look. If you think for one minute that you can fool me, you've got another thing coming. I've known Lee for too long. Now, spill it, young lady."
Amanda searched for an exit, any plausible escape, but couldn't find one. So she wrapped her arms around Emily's shoulders and whispered, "We're married."
"Oh, well done! I knew it! It was only a matter of time."
"Emily, nobody knows but you." They'd been so careful. "How did you know?"
Emily smiled. "I could hear it in your words, and it was right there--plain as day--in every touch."
"Were we that obvious?"
She patted Amanda's shoulder. "My dear, I don't know why you chose to hide your relationship, but I suspect it's visible to those who love you. You might want to reconsider the path you've chosen. Life is too short to waste any of it on secrets. But I'm not going to meddle."
She stood, pulled Amanda to her feet, and gathered the costumes under one arm. "Let's go home. I'll show you how to do your makeup, and we'll look around the house and locate a few weapons. We wouldn't want to carry guns into the Big Top with all those innocent spectators, so we'll need to improvise."
"Weapons? I don't leave weapons just lying around the house." As Amanda said the words, images of lamp, books, baseballs, and whip cream scrolled through her thoughts.
"You'd be surprised," Emily said.
Maybe not.
They both turned as the door opened and Lee stepped inside. "Finished?"
"Yeah." Amanda sauntered over and ran her fingers over his cheek, around his collar, and into his hair. Smiling, she drew his head down and kissed him breathless. But not quite speechless.
He licked his lips and stepped back, clearing his throat. "A-man-da--"
Nodding toward Emily, he held Amanda at arm's length. She ducked to loosen his grip and came up in the circle of his arms, leaning against his chest. Before she kissed him again, she whispered, "She knows."
"She knows?"
"Yeah, she knows."
Emily smiled and pushed past them on her way out the door. "I always know."
TBC . . .