What if Mister Waverly were actually a Madame Waverly?
Things were certainly run efficiently in the New York headquarters of the U.N.C.L.E.
In this place neatness counted and everything was beyond spit spot and in its place; that was in part thanks to the leadership of Margaret Eustace Waverly, number one of Section I for the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. She'd been instrumental in founding the organization for the purpose of fighting evil in the world, and organization that was free to operate without the confines or limitations of any single government.
U.N.C.L.E. recruited and trained the best of the best to be their operatives, and at the moment Madame Waverly was a bit perturbed, as her newest agent was late. Not a good way to start a new job...
.
Napoleon Solo had just arrived at headquarters in New York city, fresh from Survival School as the newest addition to Section II, the division for field agents, basically they were spies, going where they were told and doing what they were told by Waverly, the head of U.N.C.L.E. Northwest.
Being a bit of a ladies man, Napoleon felt like a kid in a candy shop as he walked the grey corridors while passing one beautiful woman after another, many of whom were field agents, though some were support staff. They all wore pale yellow or blue blouses and tight fitting black pencil skirts that accentuated the almost hypnotic swaying of their hips.
He'd heard he would be in the minority as the ratio of male to female employees was that of three to one. He liked those numbers.
Napoleon smiled to himself, feeling he'd be like a rooster in a hen house, or so he thought. At first he tried flirting with a few of the ladies as he sauntered along, heading to meet with Waverly, the head of the entire organization.
It seemed none of them would have any of it; they turned up their noses at him and went on about their business.
"Oh boy," he muttered to himself. He could only hope that the women here would chill out a bit once they got to know him and his limitless charms.
He stepped from the elevator, walking down the final corridor leading to his ultimate destination. Though he knew exactly where he was, he stopped at the receptionist desk to ask.
"Excuse me, my name is…"
"Yes, I know. You're Napoleon Solo and you're late," she looked at her wristwatch."The boss doesn't like tardiness."
His eyebrows arched at her curtness."I'll make a note of it, now might I at least know your name since you know mine."
"I'm Lisa Rogers, personal assistant to Madame Waverly."
"Madame?" He repeated. "I thought Waverly was a man."
"Hardly. You better head in, she's expecting you."
Napoleon gave Lisa a little salute and adjusted his tie until the pneumatic doors opened with a gentle whoosh.
"Ah yes," she looked at a small silver watch pinned her jacket."Do come in and sit down. You're late by the way...see that it doesn't happen again."
Napoleon heard a very British voice speak, though he couldn't see her just yet as her back was to him, until he approached the large round conference table where she was seated. Once she was within his field of vision he was taken aback; Madame Waverly, regardless of her gender, was much younger than he expected someone to be in charge of the Northwest division of the U.N.C.L.E.
She was at most in her early sixties, blonde hair cut in a short bob hair style, and dressed in a white collared blouse, brown tweed jacket and matching skirt. Her attire didn't hide the fact that she was quite shapely.
"Yes Ma'am. Napoleon Solo." He offered his hand to her, flashing one of his most charming smiles. "A pleasure to meet you.
"Oh sit down will you," she waved him off.
Napoleon watched as she reached for a humidor near a control console set up off to the side of her chair, and filled the bowl of a small pipe, lighting it with a wooden took a few puffs, letting the aromatic smoke from it curl above her head.
Napoleon remained nonplussed, though seeing a woman smoke a pipe was a bit unusual. He was sure he'd see a lot stranger things while working for this organization.
"We have quite a few things to discuss Mr. Solo; number one on my list is your comportment young man. I've heard you have quite a reputation with the ladies, so let me be clear about it from the start; I will tolerate no such nonsense with the women here at headquarters, nor at any other UNCLE installation. You are here to do a job and not make dates or amorous rendezvous. There is to be absolutely no fraternization among my employees. Period. Is that clear?"
It was all Napoleon could do to keep from cringing. This woman was all about business.
"Yes Ma'am, crystal clear." He wondered for a second if he'd made a mistake joining this organization, but decided to give it a chance. Things couldn't be that bad…headquarters was only an office and he'd meet plenty of women in the field. He could use his charms on them and he just might be able to turn an enemy agent or two with them. Napoleon was sure the Command wouldn't mind him using his wiles for that purpose.
"Ahem," Waverly cleared her throat. "Are you listening to me Mr. Solo?"
Napoleon shifted position in his chair. "Yes Ma'am."
"Well then, I have prepared a list of agents who are to be partnered with you as mentors, that is until you have gotten the knack of how we do things. I realize you excelled at Survival School, but you also have a tendency to fly by the seat of your pants, as it were. I'll have none of that here. We have tried and true methods that work. That being said, I still do allow my agents some leeway when it comes to bending certain rules while out in the field, again that's once you've learned the ropes."
Waverly handed him a list of names, each with brief biographies of his potential partners.
Solo gave it a quick perusal and realized they were all men; his eyes betrayed him.
She knew exactly what he was thinking. "Yes male partners for now," Waverly said. "We'll see how you manage your first year before I assign you a permanent partner who may or may not be a woman. Any questions Mr. Solo?"
"Yes Ma'am, is it too late to apply for a teaching position at Survival School?"
