The Shot In The Park Affair - Chapter 3 pfrye23
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Napoleon pursed his lips, "Okay. That is interesting. I don't like to do this, but I think we may need to split up for a bit."
Illya handed Napoleon the crumpled handbill from the Circus on Ice. "You take the circus, my friend. I think that suits you better."
"Not because you think me a clown, I'm sure?"
"Of course not," Illya grinned. "You would be more happy with dozens of female skaters, wearing skimpy outfits and shiny tights!"
"Ah, true, plus I can't play a saxophone, so you take the subway. You look more like an itinerant musician anyway. Between us perhaps we can shake lose some action."
After agreeing on their tentative plan the two UNCLE agents left Whittles and returned to headquarters.
The next day Illya entered the subway station nearest o the Gardens. He knew that he would have to position himself where he could see people entering and leaving the subway cars. With the fluctuation of the crowds it was going to me a mentally challenging stake out. He found a good location and got to work. Leaning down he opened his saxophone case and lifted out his horn. Leaving his case open at his feet he "primed the pump" by tossing a few coins into it. Leaning against the wall he warmed up by playing a few notes of jazz. He paused and blew on his cold fingers. His threadbare jeans and worn pea coat worn over a black turtleneck sweater didn't look like they provided much warmth. It wasn't too hard to watch and play the saxophone as long as the crowds were sparse. When a large group left an arriving car he switched to a simple tune in order to concentrate on the passengers.
Exiting the subway on her way to work, Antonia De Angelo noticed a young, good looking busker. Antonia was captivated by his soulful blue eyes. His heavenly blond hair was worn long, more like the British singers she was hearing on the radio these days. She stopped and joined the mostly female crowd gathered around him.
The busker started to play a jazzy rendition of We Three Kings and quickly transitioned to Away In A Manger. Antonia listened transfixed. He was really good. "You put a lot of emotion into your playing." She called.
He smiled. "I can name dozens of people who would never believe that!"
Antonia's insides melted at his soft British accent. "Oh my! Are you from England?"
He nodded as he started to play Silent Night. "Oh gosh, I'll be late for work!" Antonia pulled some bills from her purse and dropped them into the instrument case. Illya played a few bars of I Want To Hold Your Hand by the Beatles. Antonia laughed and blew Illya a kiss as she ran toward the station exit. Illya felt a little bubble of warmth and happiness as he realized that despite the stress he was actually enjoying himself. He returned to his Christmas tunes and kept his eyes roving over the crowd.
At Madison Square Garden, the cast of the holiday Circus on Ice were rehearsing. Athletic men and women, wearing sweaters and tight fitting leggings swiftly glided around the huge ice rink. They would leap, twirl and zoom around forwards and backwards. Napoleon watched with no small amount of awe at their talent. He could skate, but this was amazing. By his side was Matt Marshall, the producer of the show. Marshall was a large imposing man. He gave the impression that he always got what he wanted and would never accept less than that.
"What do you think?" Marshall asked, his voice overly loud.
"It's impressive and a great holiday story" Napoleon said as he jotted a few notes on a pad he carried. "That's why the Herald Tribune wanted a story."
Marshall had been informed early that morning that Mr. Nathan French, a reporter from the New York Herald Tribune, wanted to shadow the rehearsals and performances. Mr. Marshall knew this was a golden opportunity for them and he let everyone know that he expected total cooperation.
Marshall pointed to a thin, scarecrow of a man with long red hair. "That's Louis, he's the director. I'll introduce you and then I have to leave, I've got an important meeting to get to."
Napoleon cringed as Marshall bellowed, "Lou! Get over here!"
Louis gave Marshall a tired look and skated over to the railing. "What…"
"This is Nathan French, the reported from the Tribune I told you about. He's all yours." With that Marshall slapped Napoleon on the back as he turned and trotted up the stairs toward an exit. Napoleon watched the play of emotions on the director's face, fear, anger and disgust.
Louis wiped his lank red hair from his face and nodded at Napoleon. "He can be a bit much. But he pays the bills." Louis suddenly turned and yelled as a young dark haired woman joined the practicing cast members. "Antonia, you're late again!" He yelled. "One more and you're fired."
"Sorry, subway was slow!" She called back.
The director clapped his hands and yelled. "Okay kids, let's do another run through of the winter wonderland fantasy number." He keyed a radio "Props, we need the snowmen out here."
Napoleon perked up at the mention of Winter Wonderland. "Would that be the Christmas carol?"
"Yea, Matt wanted us to add a couple of new numbers for the Christmas Eve show. We are sold out and he said that lots of big wigs will be there."
Napoleon watched as a troop of eight foot tall snowmen came gliding out onto the ice. The skaters took up positions around them and began to push and twirl the snowmen around the rink in a choreographed dance.
Louis screeched, "Counter clockwise, how many times do I have to tell you that! We all have to go counter clockwise. We can't have Frosty tipping over during the show!"
Napoleon chuckled. Louis sniffed, "Well it doesn't look like much now, but come Christmas Eve when everyone is in costume, with music and special effects...believe me, it will be spectacular!"
"I'm sure it will, Louis. I'm sure it will."
Illya was running out of Christmas carols, and had started to repeat songs, adding jazz classics in between the carols. His fingers were getting tired, cold and hungry. He had begun to suspect that this stake out was, as Napoleon would say, a bust.
He'd give it two more arrivals and then move to a different station. He was amazed though that his saxophone case held over twenty dollars in tips. Illya smiled as he thought he might have just discovered his profession if he ever decided to part ways with UNCLE.
The rumble of wheels announced the next trains arrival. There was a swoosh of opening doors and a large crowd pushed out, everyone in a rush to get to the exit. Illya tried to keep his eyes on the crowd when he felt a bump and a sharp pain in his side. Startled he looked up into the face of a dark haired man wearing a blue anorak. It was the THRUSH who had shot Parson Brown.
As Illya tried to reach for the man he felt a burning numbness spread out in his limbs. His fingers couldn't hold his saxophone and the instrument started to drop. The THRUSH caught in and put it into the case and snapped it shut. Illya stood helpless, his brain was working fine but his body just wouldn't cooperate. He tried to shout and all that he could manage was a low moan. He felt drool start to run down his chin onto his pea coat.
The THRUSH picked up his case and put his arm around Illya and half dragged, half carried him toward the exit. "Come on buddy, it's a little early in the day don't you think?" He nodded to Illya as people glanced at the pair, "A little too much Christmas cheer!" People smiled and continued on their way.
Once outside they stopped at the curb. A van with "Madison Square Garden Security" printed on the side pulled up. The THRUSH opened the back and tossed the saxophone case inside, pushed Illya into the back and climbed in after him. As he slammed the back doors closed the van pulled out and disappeared into the traffic.
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