"Mr. Solo, Miss Dancer I have a special assignment for the two of you, please be seated," Alexander Waverly instructed them.
Napoleon gestured for April to sit down before him; being a gentlemen he paused to help her with the chair. Though she was a liberated independent woman, she still appreciated those little niceties from a man, especially when it was Solo doing them.
Waverly tapped his pipe in the crystal ashtray on the console beside him, emptying the bowl as he waited for both agents to be seated.
"I have an important protection duty for you. You are to escort a Miss Angelina Bell back here to headquarters as she is very much the target of our usual adversaries...T.H.R.U.S.H."
"Why do they want her?" April asked.
"Precisely my next point Miss Dancer. She apparently is a gifted telepath."
"Please tell me she's been checked for suspect hair combs?" Napoleon commented…"And she's not from the South is she?" His mind racing to the Bat-Cave Affair.*
"No Mr. Solo, rest assured she is indeed the genuine article. And this time I think she will be much more...shall we say, easier to deal with, than Miss Clemency McGill," Waverly cleared his throat.
Napoleon cocked his eyebrows, casting a glance in April's direction, one that was usually reserved for his Russian partner.
"Pardon me sir, but any particular reason we're being paired instead of either of us working with our regular partners?"April asked.
"Miss Bell will be more inconspicuous in the company of a couple, and given the child is red haired, she'll stand out even less," the CCO sucked on the mouthpiece of his pipe.
"Child?" Napoleon asked politely, but swallowed hard. "Just exactly how old is Angelina Bell?"
'I believe she is four years of age." Waverly sent around two files, stopping the turning of the table when they reached his agents.
"At present she is in the custody of her grandmother...a Mrs. Charles Windham, whose daughter and son-in-law worked for U.N.C.L.E. at one time, meeting in these very hallowed halls as it were."
"You may recall Agent Tommy Bell Mr. Solo?"
"Yes, I do sir. He was a good man," Napoleon shook his head." His wife as well… a beautiful girl with hair similar to yours April."
"You're speaking in the past tense...what happened?"Dancer asked.
"Sadly former Agent Bell and wife Christine were killed in an automobile accident a month ago. The police investigation deemed the circumstances suspicious."
"I call a cut breakline beyond suspicious," Napoleon mumbled.
"Indeed," Waverly finally lit his pipe, blowing a few smoke rings before continuing. "The child's grandmother contacted me about the incident and the fact that her granddaughter was showing extraordinary psychic abilities. Given the circumstances under which Bell and his wife died, it immediately became suspect that someone, most likely T.H.R.U.S.H. was interested in the little girl's gift."
"Where does the grandmother live?"
"In a well-to-do section of a town called Montclair, not far from here... in New Jersey. It's your assignment to masquerade as her parents and get her to headquarters and from here she'll be taken to a safe house with a family to care for her. There she'll be looked after and her powers investigated. She will be reunited with her grandmother at a later date."
"Mode of transportation sir?" April asked.
"You'll pick up a station wagon from the motor pool. I want you two to look like a typical married couple going on a weekend get away with their daughter.
"Peachy," Napoleon mumbled.
"Excuse me Mr. Solo, you have something to add?"
"No sir," he tried not to shrink down in his chair," just anxious to get going.
"Hmmm quite. You'll both need a visit to wardrobe...and Mr. Solo keep it casual please. You are supposed to be portraying an average working man. So the 'off the rack' look will do quite nicely for you in this instance."
"Understood sir," again Napoleon controlled himself not to cringe. He swore that Waverly was trying not to smile.
"Oh and another thing, the child apparently does not often communicate verbally, though she can speak. She seems to send her thoughts telepathically, sometimes just as emotions. Her powers are growing and need to be explored and monitored. A child with such abilities in the wrong hands could be...well it's unknown territory, but the possibilities are endless it seems."
.
April and her temporary partner readied themselves for their roles as mom and dad. Empty suitcases were loaded onto the luggage rack of the 1958 Rambler Ambassador Super just for effect. The four door wagon was a bit odd, with deluxe styling on the bottom, custom on the top and tail fins to boot.
"I wouldn't be caught dead driving one of these," Napoleon mumbled out of the side of his mouth.
"Hey don't use that word dead please?" April said, heading for the passenger side.
Dressed in a grey cardigan sweater over a polo shirt and a pair of khaki trousers, replete with white sox and a pair of penny loafers, Solo looked like he'd just stepped out of an episode of 'Father knows best.'
"And these clothes…" he complained, though not too loudly.
"You look fine darling," April stole a reassuring kiss on the cheek. Though the two were lovers, there'd be no time for intimacy on this assignment.
April was wearing a black floral halter top dress with a full skirt, and covering her bare shoulders, a short light waisted blue button-down sweater. She had a pair of sensible shoes on her feet.
"Well at least you look gorgeous," he whispered, hugging her to his side.
"Down boy, no frisky business this time."
"Can't keep a good man down, " he growled playfully as he opened the car door for her. "Your chariot Mrs. Cleaver."
"Why thank you Ward dear, you're such a gentleman." She smiled back at him.
The drive was a relatively short one, as Napoleon headed up the FDR Drive, through the Lincoln Tunnel to Route 3 and staying on that until he reached Valley Rd. in Montclair. The trip took all of thirty minutes…
"Surprised at the hilly terrain, they both eyed a sign for Montclair State College, a venerable institution noted for it's Physical Education department. The school dated back to the early 1900's.
They found the address not far from the College. "There," April pointed, "It's that house there...the brick one."
"Honey, they're all brick."
"Sorry it's the one with the ummm, with the lawn jockey holding a lantern."
Napoleon pulled the car curbside, and both he and April got out, heading up the pristine walkway.
The house itself was quite large, not fitting any particular style of architecture. The grounds were neatly trimmed and landscaped, with bright red flowers circling the bases of the large shade trees and the bushes beneath the first floor windows.
They approached the door, and pausing as he stared at the highly polished brass door knocker of a lion's head; Napoleon took hold of it, preparing to use it. To his surprise the door swung open, apparently unlocked.
He looked at April, instinctively drawing his gun and she did the same.
"Mrs. Windham?" She called as the two of them stuck their heads inside.
There was no answer as they stepped in. Something was very wrong as a table was toppled over in the hall with the telephone knocked to the floor; the receiver giving an off the hook dial tone. Other than that, the house was silent.
"I'll check this floor, you take upstairs,"Napoleon whispered.
April nodded silently, tiptoeing up the oriental style carpeted stairs.
Napoleon walked slowly with his gun extended, checking out each room until he received an unexpected surprise...
The body of Mrs. Windham was sprawled out on the kitchen floor. A T.H.R.U.S.H. sleep dart protruding from her neck. When he checked her pulse there was none, yet her skin was still warm to the touch.
There were medication bottles on the counter and Napoleon picked them up one by one, reading the labels. They were all in Mrs. Windham's name and he supposed given she was on such a large number of drugs, there might have have been an interaction between the chemicals in the T.H.R.U.S.H. dart and what was already in her system.
He shook his head as he rose, feeling a sudden breeze coming from the back of the kitchen. Sheer curtains fluttered in the air revealing an open sliding door...possibly the escape route for whomever might have been here.
"Napoleon!" April shouted from the hall. "I need you."
He turned and ran, though her voice had no sense of urgency in it.
There at the bottom of the stairs stool April Dancer, holding the adorable Angelina; the hazel-eyed child cocooned in the agents arms, sucking away on her tiny thumb.
"I found her hiding under a bed. She told me her grandmother said to go there and not make a sound. Poor darling is terribly frightened, and knows something has happened to her Nana. Napoleon, she told me all this and never uttered a single word."
"Hi sweetheart, my name is Nap…"
"Napoleon, that's a funny name," he heard a tiny voice in his head. "You're here to take me to a safe place."
That time both agents heard the child's words.
"That's not polite sweetie," April whispered, "You really shouldn't listen in to other people's thoughts.
"Sorry," Angelina actually spoke this time.
"Honey you need to come with us, understand? We're here to keep you safe from the bad men."
The child shook her head. "Now show me your room and help me pack some clothes and a few of your favorite toys...okay?" April whispered, giving Angelina a little tickle in the tummy.
She giggled her response. "See I knew you could smile," April laughed with her. The agent nodded to Solo as she took the child upstairs again.
"Open Channel D- Solo.
"Yes Mr. Solo what have you to report?" Waverly bruskly responded.
"Mrs. Windham is dead sir, took a THRUSH sleep dart to the neck, it must have been too much for her."
"And the child?" There was a sense of urgency in his in his voice.
"Is fine sir. We think we surprised the intruders and they took off before they could find her. She's with Miss Dancer now packing up some things."
"That is indeed a relief Mr. Solo. A slight change of plans, you won't return to New York tonight but will stay in safe house farther south. I suspect THRUSH will believe you to be making a beeline for headquarters in New York. Instead you'll be taking her to our headquarters in Washington. I will notify them to expect you in….no more than five hours. Report upon your arrival. Out."
Napoleon rubbed his face with his hand, not believing how this was going. Five hours in a car with a telepathic four year old? "Ughhhh."
'What's wrong darling?"April said, she was carrying Angelina in one arm with a teddy bear tucked under the other and a small suitcase in her hand.
"We need to get going...we've got a long trip ahead of us," he announced
"What do you mean? It's a half hour ride back to headquarters."
"Nope, we're now heading to Washington as per Mr. Waverly."
"Hear that sweetheart? We're going on a nice trip?"
"Washington?" Angelina whispered into April's ear.
"That's the capital of our country. Did you ever hear the name George Washington?"
"Mmm-huh, daddy said he chopped down a cherry tree...and," she giggled," he had wooden teeth."
"That's exactly right," Napoleon smiled, as he glanced at April, "You're pretty smart Angelina Bella mia...and the place where we're going. Washington, was named after George. What else was George famous for?"
There was complete silence and suddenly Napoleon and April's heads were filled with a single thought.
"The bad men are coming back."
.
* Season 2 The Man from U.N.C.L.E.