I hate to be the type of person who is suspicious of a kind act, but in my family it's more a gift than a fault.
For example, I always knew when my poor dearly departed brother, Teddy, was getting around to cause some mischief. He'd be so nice and sweet to me. Teddy would offer to do my chores, check my homework or loan me some money in case I wanted to go to the picture show with my cousin Elaine.
He'd get in good with me and then whang. He'd get caught smoking behind the chicken coop or Mom would be pulling hay out of his underwear after a night of spooning with the Miller girl. Suddenly, I'd be his alibi or his excuse and more times than not, I'd be the one who got a talking to. Papa didn't believe in hitting women, you see, so he'd never take the strap to me. Honestly speaking, I wasn't the one who needed it.
Then he was out swimming at the old granite hole and dove off a stone ledge into shallow water. They say if he'd lived, he'd have been a vegetable. As it was, he lived just long enough for the last rites. Mama never forgave him for dying before she did.
Then there was my best friend, Kathy. Well, she was my best friend until about the seventh grade when she grew bosoms and I didn't. Then she would start coming over, but not to see me. She told her folks it was, but it was to see our cowhand. Kathy would come over to return a hanky I'd lent her, or bring me a book she thought I'd like or some flowers she just had to pick for me… Oh, is Brian here? And off she'd go, slipping around the corner of a shed or behind a tree.
Later, her mama would call and wonder where she was. "Oh, I've been with Amy." That only worked until she started showing and the man who ruined her disappeared. And who was to blame, me! For some reason, they thought I should have had some pull over her. I'm guessing it was a long time since they'd been fourteen and in the grip of hormones.
There are many more stories, but suffice it to say, when someone hands me a peach, I start to look for the pit before I break a tooth on it.
So, when my nephew called up and invited me out to dinner at the Four Seasons, his treat, and it wasn't a holiday or my birthday, I was suspicious.
Napoleon is a bit of a scoundrel and I love him for it. I knew he was up to something when he offered to pick me up and then was actually on time.
He opened the door, such good manners, and waited until I was all settled before shutting it and going around to the driver's side. He always seemed very alert when he was behind the wheel of a car. At times he acted as if someone was after him or something, but, well, that's just silly.
"This is very fine, Napoleon, but what is the occasion?" I had splurged and taken out my favorite light lavender colored dress. The bodice was very modest, but covered with lace and little seed pearls. I adored it – it reminded me of my wedding dress. I'd gotten a new hat to match my new purse and even put on a new pair of gloves. True, I wasn't as slender as I'd been as a girl, but one of the lovely things about growing older is not worrying about a few extra pounds. After fifty, it is important to relax one's standards and learn to embrace the occasional chocolate or bit of sherry.
I was thrilled that I hadn't overdressed. Napoleon looked quite dapper in his evening suit. Even his shoes glistened. One thing about Napoleon, the man knows how to wear a suit beautifully. And to think, I'd taught him how to knot a tie!
"Do I need an occasion to take my best girl out on the town?"
"You are up to something, Napoleon Solo!"
"Me?" He was the picture of innocence and I laughed. Whatever he had up his sleeve, he'd reveal it in time and I'd get a good meal out of it. I'd not been to the Four Seasons in ages.
It was a bit of a surprise that the maître d knew my nephew by name. It was more of a shock to be led to a table near the reflecting pool. Those were the premium seats. They didn't come easily. Another surprise - there were two other gentlemen already seated at it. They were both dressed in evening suits like Napoleon's.
Well, one was a surprise and a stranger, but the other was more of a delight. I knew Illya by sight. When he saw me, he stood and grinned. Those blue eyes, they'd make any girl do herself a mischief! I resisted the urge to pull my dainty handkerchief out of my glove and fan myself with it.
"Illya!" I gave him a fast hug, as he isn't one for public displays and glanced at the much older gentleman, who'd also risen.
"Aunt Amy, this is our employer, Alexander Waverly. Mr. Waverly, my aunt, Amy… Solo." I shot Napoleon a look. My married name wasn't Solo.
"It's a pleasure to meet you." He had a charming British clip to his voice and the kindest eyes. They reminded me of my beloved Albert's and I felt instantly at ease.
It was hard to know exactly what to order at such an elegant place, but I finally settled on crisped shrimp with mustard fruits for my appetizer, a double beef consommé with nasturtium petals and then a lamb steak in a Susu curry.
I sipped my champagne cocktail and watched the boys hash out their decisions. Mr. Waverly lifted his glass of scotch to me.
"We are honored that you could join us, Mrs. —"
"Now, let's not be getting off on the wrong foot here. My name is Amy, none of that Mrs. nonsense!"
"I told you," my nephew said in a sing song voice and his employer managed to look both amused and annoyed at the same time. I got the impression that Napoleon held a special place in Alexander's eyes.
The waiter and his staff had cleared the table and I heard a murmured request for Grand Marnier soufflés all the way around before Napoleon finally tipped his hand.
"Well, Amy, you asked earlier what I had up my sleeve – we need your help."
"Three young strapping men?" Well, two and an older, more refined gentleman, but Alexander's chest swelled when I said it and I was glad I had.
"Your nephew and his associate do an excellent job of protecting the world from people who want to do others harm."
I kept a smile from my lips. I knew Napoleon wasn't a salesman! "I see."
"From time to time, we need to enlist the aid of someone whom we feel would be better suited for a certain task than one of our men. In short, Amy, we need an older woman, one of refinement, but also one who can think on her feet and who can be self-reliant and yet follow orders. Mr. Solo seems to think you are that person."
"Amy, it's either you or dressing Illya up in drag." Eye twinkling, Napoleon leaned closer to me to whisper. "To be honest, he looks terrible in high heels."
"Napoleon!" Illya chastised, but a bit of a smile clung to the corners of his lips
"These young men can be quite cavalier about things, but there is a chance of danger, dear lady, and I would not feel comfortable sequestering that fact from you." Sigh, Alexander could talk all night and I'd listen.
Smiling at my nephew, I patted Mr. Waverly on the hand. "It's settled, Alexander, I am a Solo, after all." Napoleon winked back and then dessert arrived.
The next thing I knew I was part of the Big Machine, or whatever nonsense they use to refer to the corporate world.
The next morning, Napoleon picked me up and whisked me off to a parking structure. Inside, there was a little room. It didn't seem like much of an office to me, but there was a receptionist and a man wearing a gun (!) there. The young lady was very kind, taking great care to pin a pretty red badge - I noticed that Napoleon's was yellow – onto my white sweater.
Napoleon escorted me to the elevator and I stepped inside. After that, everything got very different. We went through a seemingly never-ending maze of corridors peopled by young women, all dressed in dark skirts and pale blue blouses, many with guns in the small of their backs. Oh dear, I wondered, watching them as they passed. I hoped Napoleon didn't expect me to dress like that. The men were all wearing suits, many without jackets and all with shoulder holsters. That's when it finally started to sink in.
"Napoleon?" I slowed.
"Yes, my sweet." Napoleon nodded to a pair of young ladies, watching them as they passed.
"Are you like them?"
He frowned and looked sharply at me, then realized I was looking at trio of men. "What do you mean?"
Reluctantly, I reached out and pushed open his suit jacket. "You're wearing a gun."
"That's right." He glanced at his watch and gave me an encouraging push in the small of my back. We started walking again.
"Does Illya wear a gun as well?"
"Yes, and you've seen him shooting it. Remember Cairo?"
"I thought… I thought perhaps I'd dreamt it."
"Mr. Waverly was being honest. Illya and I, along with all the other folks here, we take care of the world, so the rest of you can take care of your worlds."
"You're police men then?"
"Of a sort." He stopped by a door. "Here we go. I will leave you in Meredith's capable hands."
"Where are you going?"
He smiled at me, patted the left side of his chest, and kissed my cheek. "To work."
That night was like a fairy tale. A Rolls Royce, a Grey Ghost, no less picked me up and Napoleon was inside to greet me. He explained that I was to attract the attention of a certain man. From the way Napoleon described him, he was a bit of a cad.
"You want me to what?"
"Flirt with him. Make small talk that makes him feel like a big man. Keep him distracted"
"What if there's trouble?"
"I will be nearby and Illya's here as well as a half dozen of our other agents. If you get worried, just whistle and I'll be at your side to sweep you into the safety of UNCLE's arms."
"You make it sound so easy."
"It will be for you. Illya and I will do all the heavy lifting."
"Napoleon, what has this man done?"
"Nothing yet, but he has the potential to make many people very ill, possibly die. He plans to use that to his advantage. He's planning to decimate two countries in Africa."
"Oh, those poor people." I'd been to Africa and I had enjoyed the warmth of the natives who'd taken care of me there. "I hope you will make him pay."
"That's not for you to worry about. You catch his eye and leave the rest to us. If you get into trouble, just head back to the car. Our driver is one of UNCLE's best."
True to his word, I eventually found myself the focus of a very attentive gentleman. He looked like an older version of Nick Charleston, very suave and polished, with a thin mustache and an ego the size of the Great Outdoors. Yet I remembered my charge and within a few minutes, he'd secluded us in a corner and was telling the most outlandish tales.
A waiter came by and held a tray out to me. I took a glass of champagne and nodded my thanks. Then I realized it was Illya holding the tray. His face didn't display a bit of recognition and I counseled mine to do the same.
"Thank you," I said politely and he moved on to another group. I felt a hundred times better knowing he was in the room, especially since I'd lost sight of Napoleon.
I didn't really panic until this cad had somehow backed me into a quiet room and was lacing his tales with choice words of affection and familiarity.
There was a sharp knock on the door and he excused himself. As he hurried to answer it, all the while primping and making sure that he looked put together, something fell from his pocket. It looked like a tube of lipstick and I wasn't very sure it wasn't.
"What is it? I said not to interrupt me."
"We found some UNCLE agents snooping around and thought you'd like to talk to them personally."
Inwardly I blanched at the whispered statement, but outwardly I continued to admire the room.
"My dear, I must leave you. I hope that we can meet again, very soon." He kissed my hand and practically ran from the room.
I remembered the tube and held it out to him, but he'd vanished around the door frame. Not having a pocket, I tucked it safely into my cleavage – no one would be getting down there without my permission – and went back to the party.
Try as I might, I couldn't see Napoleon or Illya. Taking a deep breath, I reached deep into me and found my resolve. I could feel Albert's arm slide protectively around me and I smiled.
The instructions were that I was to engage Mr. Naughty, as I'd come to think of him, and then leave. I had accomplished my mission and done just that. I headed for the front door, pausing as a pert young thing ran to get my wrap and clutch. I'd just settled the fur on my shoulders when fingers caught and gripped my arm
"Where do you think you're going?" Mr Naughty's voice wasn't as pleasant or polite as it had been thirty minutes earlier. He looked frazzled and slightly insane, if you ask me.
"I have a bit of a headache coming on. I think it's time to say my farewells. Thank you for a lovely party."
"Oh but the party's just getting started. You were seen talking with Solo. Now it's my turn."
"I don't think I very much care for the manner in which you are addressing me, sir." I tried to make it sound haughty, but settled for angry instead.
"And I don't very much care what you think." Mr. Naughty hissed. His fingers tightened and the next thing just happened quite naturally. I screamed at the top of my lungs and began to hit him with my clutch.
Instantly I was the focus of everyone in the room.
"Is something wrong, Ma'am?" I almost sang for joy at the sight of our driver.
"Yes, he's a masher!" I kept smacking him wherever the clutch would reach. "My mother raised me to be a proper lady, she did." Ye gods, I was channeling Eliza Doolittle! "Trying to drag me off to have his wicked way with me, it's not going to happen."
"No, Ma'am, it isn't." The driver insinuated himself between Mr. Naughty and me. "I think it's time to leave."
You ain't just whistling Dixie, toots, I thought as I let him lead me from the room and away from a much more frustrated Mr. Naughty and into the safety of the car.
We started driving away and I tapped on my young man's shoulder. "Aren't we forgetting someone? Where's Napoleon?"
"He and Mr. Kuryakin will have to…" He trailed off as Napoleon suddenly appeared on the road up ahead, waving a hand at us and looking back into the bushes behind him. "Ma'am, do you have a problem with hitchhikers?"
"Not in the least!"
The car stopped and immediately the door was opened and someone was thrust at me. It took me a moment to realize it was a pretty groggy Illya, followed closely by Napoleon.
"Illya, dear, what's wrong?"
He took a deep breath and grinned. "You smell nice."
"Why thank you, but…?"
"He's had a snootful of truth serum, Amy. Don't ask him anything that you don't want to know the truth about." He grabbed the door and yanked it shut just as the car started to move again. He reached over and pulled Illya off me and a fast left of the car sent Illya into his arms.
"You smell better," Illya mumbled, looking for all the world as if he was prepared to fall asleep in Napoleon's arms. "I like you."
"Wish I could say the same, partner. You need a bath."
"Okay. Scrub my back?" And then Illya slumped into unconsciousness. I was disappointed. I wanted to know what was going to happen next.
"Finally," Napoleon said with a chuckle. He glanced out of the back window and leaned forward slightly and patted the driver on his shoulder. "Step on it, James. Let's go home."
I was back in the small room that I'd started my transformation in, behind a screen exchanging the lovely gown UNCLE had loaned me for my own familiar clothes. Napoleon was on the other side, keeping me company.
"Why was dear Illya so glum at the meeting, dear?" We'd gone directly to Mr. Waverly's office upon arriving. By the time we arrived at the parking garage, he'd gone from the giggly mess Napoleon had handed me to a rather stern and sallow looking man.
"Dear Illya is disappointed that we weren't able to find what we were looking for. Plus he's got an extremely bad headache from the truth serum and a feeling of being compromised."
I got my gown off and hung, along with the slip, and that's when I felt it. "Oh, dear," I murmured, reaching in and pulling out Mr. Naughty's lipstick, the old poser!
"What's wrong, Amy?" Napoleon sounded so concerned that I slipped on a dressing robe over my undies, tied it tight, and came around to show Napoleon the cause of my dismay.
"I meant to give this back to Mr. Naughty."
"Mr. Naught…. Oh… oh, my. Amy, you are a genius!" Napoleon kissed me and grabbed the phone. "Illya, this will fix your headache! We have it! Not me, Amy, she smuggled it out!"
Well, I still don't know what I did that was so great or why I deserved such praise from Mr. Waverly as well as that nice man from the UN, but I took it all in stride. After all, I am a Solo…