"This doesn't feel right," Napoleon said as he took a bite of his hot dog. He and Illya were sitting at the Air Canada departure gates near a column that afforded them a good view of people awaiting flights without them being too visible themselves.
"Napoleon, I know New Yorkers like franks with sauerkraut and onions, but in this part of the country, it is quite normal to have tomatoes, pickles, relish, and celery salt on it, as well."
"No, Partner, not the food. Being here; this doesn't feel right. Let me see that map again." He opened the map and studied it while the Russian continued to scope out the terminal for any signs of their man. "I'm thinking that if someone were tailing me, I would want them to think I'm trying to fly out." He went back to silently studying the map. After a few moments he said, "If I were the Traitor, I would head to Glencoe; it's on the lakefront."
Illya swallowed the last of his lunch. "So, you think he will try to get a boat to take him through the Straits of Mackinac into Lake Huron?"
"That's what he wants us to think, I'm sure of it. No, that would be too obvious. I think he'll hire a boat, hoping that we head up to the Straits. If I were him, I would take that boat to Grand Rapids and head north on land."
Illya looked at his partner and grinned. "Napoleon, I have learned to trust your instincts. If that is what you think he is doing, that is what we will do. Just do me one favor, I beg you."
Napoleon looked up from his map – folding. "What favor is that?"
"When this is all over, please, please let me be there when you explain our expenses to Mr. Waverly."
