"I have a special assignment for you gentlemen …'
Alexander Waverly turned on the projector and a picture of an old house appeared.
"This, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, is a house in which you will take up residence for the next few days … uh, and nights."
Illya remained seemingly unaffected by the picture, or the thought of spending a night in the dilapidated looking structure. Napoleon, on the other hand, shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. It was not so much an attempt to gain the floor and speak as it was an involuntary reaction to the sight of the old house.
"Do you have something to say, Mr. Solo?"
Solo did not. Well, perhaps…
"I .. uh … well, I'm just wondering why, sir. I assume, however that you are going to … '
The old man's eyebrows shot up in a familiar expression of feigned surprise.
"Yes, well … I thought you … I mean, yes sir."
Illya thought his friend's reaction was odd, but he also had a certain amount of dread at the prospect of staying in the place. It looked like something out of a Hollywood horror film, and he had no inclination to play with whatever might dwell there. Of that he was fairly certain.
Waverly regained his focus and continued on.
"You .. uh… let me see… Oh yes, you will be meeting a young woman there who has information for us regarding a new THRUSH threat to humanity. She assures our San Francisco office that her sources are reliable and that she … ahhh… Let me see … Her name is Veronica Revere, by the way. Miss Revere is related to the late THRUSH Council member Arnold Revere."
He looked up and examined the faces of the two top agents in North America. Seeing no recognition of the name, Waverly pressed on.
"Arnold Revere is a little before your time, and this woman is his great-neice. She inherited the house from Revere's son who had no heirs of his own."
Napoleon made a sideways comment to Illya, slightly under his breath.
"No surprise there, eh, if that's where the fellow lived."
Illya smiled, looking up to see if their superior had overheard the comment.
"Yes, quite so, Mr. Solo. Adam Revere died alone in that house, an old man who also had ties to THRUSH. This young woman seems to be the only remaining member of that family and wants nothing to do with the Hierarchy. She has contacted us in order to turn over some documents that she thought might be helpful in some way."
Napoleon wondered about Miss Revere, but held out little hope that she would be of interest to him, other than as a source of information. As looked at photographs of the two men he reckoned that if she looked like them the trip would be devoid of temptation at least.
"Very well, gentlemen, you have the file and your tickets are waiting for you at my secretary's desk. Have a good flight, and do try to stay out of trouble. This assignment shouldn't cause too much trouble, I should think. I certainly don't expect to see any new suits on your expense report, Mr. Solo."
Napoleon smiled but managed to retain a slightly quizzical expression.
"Ah, no sir. No new suits. We shall return with information in hand."
"See that you do, dismissed."
With that the two agents were dispatched to San Francisco and a night, not on the town, but certainly on something out of the ordinary.