He worked with clinical precision, slowly and unhurriedly. If he hurried, he would make a mistake and that would be bad, very bad. It would mean an untimely end and that would not do.
Wiping the sweat from his brow, he continued his cut, his hand rock steady, applying just enough pressure.
He had heated up the knives, making his task that much easier. The first few cuts were easy; they required no real expertise. The challenge came as time went on.
His care and patience, however, paid off. He began to move back, erasing his steps as he went. That accomplished, all that remained was to leave a calling card.
Only then did he smile and take a moment to congratulate himself. Then, like an ice cube on the hottest day in the desert, he melted away.
Whistling, Napoleon walked into his office and grinned at the sight of the chocolate bunny on his desk. Mrs. Waverly really knew how to spoil the Section heads. Every year, she specially crafted five pounds of the best Belgian chocolate she could find into the bunnies. Napoleon's always seemed to have an extra twinkle in its eye.
The man never said anything, but Napoleon knew Illya lusted after the treat, as only someone denied sweets as a child and young adult could lust. He'd offer to share it, but the solid chocolate was hard to cut or even break.
He lifted the bunny and frowned. It seemed unusually light. He took a bite of an ear, always his favorite spot to start nibbling on any treat, and the chocolate crumbled. He frowned, even as the smooth chocolate melted in his mouth. Napoleon took a moment to savor the sweet, yet slightly salty taste. But hollow?
Napoleon upended the treat to shake some of the bits that had fallen inside and a small egg fell out. He laughed, a treat in a treat – how clever of Mrs. Waverly.
There was an odd look to the paper and he realized it wasn't the typical wrapping for an egg, at least not an American one. This one looked… well, Russian.
Dennison, head of Section Three, stuck his head in the door. "We're going for coffee, Napoleon, you interested? You sure made short work of your gift this year."
"Yeah, it was hollow."
"It wasn't when I put it on your desk."
Napoleon's mouth pursed and his features grew dark. "I don't know how he did it, but I'm going to kill him."
"What are you babbling about?"
"My bunny was solid, now it's hollow. Inside was an egg Mrs. Waverly made for Illya. You're a smart guy, Jim, you figure it out. In the meantime, I have a partner to kill."
Napoleon raced out the door and Dennison watched him for a minute. Then he started to laugh. This would teach Kuryakin to prank a Section head. He slipped a chunk of the chocolate he'd dug out of Napoleon's bunny into his mouth. "Mmmm, tasty…"