CHAPTER TWO

The morning after, while they were having breakfast at the hotel's beautiful seafront terrace, a young man in his twenties unceremoniously grabbed a chair and sat down, without bothering to ask for permission. He simply asked: "Are you Stephanie?"

At the woman's nod, he promptly extracted a small package from his jacket and furtively handled it to her under the table, then quietly added: "Give my regards to Sir John." Then he was gone, as swiftly as he had arrived.

Kuryakin commented dryly, while generously spreading his bread with the local jam: "He's as talkative as your boss. The two of them must get along beautifully."

Stephanie could not suppress a chuckle and a witty remark: "Are you really complaining about somebody being taciturn?"

Illya pretended not to hear her, and asked instead: " Is your watch picking up the package's signal?"

Stephanie checked her watch, surreptitiously keeping the package under the table. The receiver hidden in the watch beeped once and a green light flashed on the device.

"Yes. Everything seems to be in order. We can take our time and finish our breakfast."

The Russian shook his head. "I cannot relax while you are holding an unknown package. I'd rather proceed to discard it, as per Sir John's orders."

The woman opened her eyes wide. "What, you are not curious to know what's inside?"

Kuryakin tutted: "Curiosity killed the cat. Especially in our business. You should follow your orders and not mess around with that package."

She commented: "Mmh, do you think this is a test for me, too?"

He smiled. "Possibly. They used to test us all the time, back then."

She conceded: "All right, then, I'll follow your advice. After all, you have a lot of experience as an active agent."

She stood, concealing the package in her blouse, and excused herself. She went to the lady's room and threw the small parcel in the paper towel bin. Then she moved into one of the cubicles and spoke softly in her communicator: "Open channel D, please. This is Eaglet four. Tell Mother Eagle that the egg has been safely received and disposed of. Out."

When she was back, the Russian had finished breakfast and was eager to resume his vacation. "Shall we go swimming, Steph?"

She happily agreed and promptly forgot about Sir John, the agency and the parcel.

After a whole day spent at the beach, the two agents decided to retire into their room to get dressed for dinner, but they were stopped short in their tracks by an ambulance and a police car, sirens blasting and strobe lights flashing, as they skidded to a halt in front of their hotel.

Kuryakin asked the concierge about all the fuss.

"Oh, a terrible thing, sir, terrible! A young man has been found dead in our laundry room. Murdered! Such a damage for our hotel, sir! And for the poor young man, of course." he added, as an afterthought.

The Russian commented: "Yes, I'm sure it was quite damaging for him, too. Who was the young man?"

"Nobody knows. He wasn't wearing any ID. The police will have to find out. Oh, this is going to be such a blow to the hotel's image…"

Quickly dismissing the rather insensible concierge, Illya told Stephanie: "I have a very bad feeling about this incident, Steph."

Then, almost as she were reading his mind, she asked: "You're not thinking what I'm thinking, are you?"

"That the murdered young man is the agency's deliveryman? Quite so."

Glumly, the couple watched as the body was being carried onto the ambulance on a stretcher. They both recognized the dead man immediately. It was indeed the young man carrying the agency's package.

Stephanie was stricken. "That poor boy! He looked so young! Why was he killed, Illya? Do you think it has something to do with the package?"

"It has to. I don't believe in coincidences. We must recover the parcel at once. Now we are entitled to be curious."

Stephanie rushed into the restaurant's lady's room and unceremoniously poured the garbage can's content on the floor. She drew a sigh of relief when she found was she was looking for.

Then the couple went to inspect the package's content in the privacy of their room. But when they opened the door, they were confronted with an upsetting sight; their room had been rummaged. All the drawers were flung open, their contents disorderly scattered on the floor; the closet had followed the same fate. Even the mattress had been searched, the numerous deep cuts showing the inner material.

After a moment of bewilderment, Illya growled in anger: "I'm going to kill him!"

Stephanie didn't know who the Russian's wrath was aimed at. "Who?"

"Sir John! For spoiling our vacation, and for putting you in danger so soon after the Renard affair." Then he started searching among their belongings scattered on the floor. After a while he found what he was looking for.

"Fortunately they haven't taken our passports, although I'm pretty sure they took the time to have a good look at them. Grab your purse and all the money you can find, and let's get out of here. Forget about the luggage."

Still in their beach clothes, they hailed a taxi and headed for the airport, where they bought a ticket for the first flight to New York, due to depart in two hours.

While waiting for their flight, they both went into the small airport's restrooms; Stephanie to the lady's room to update the agency, Illya to the man's room to open the parcel. After making sure the bathroom was empty, Illya filled a basin with water and plunged the small package into the water to defuse any explosives that might have been waiting for an unsuspecting victim. Then he proceeded to unpack it with extreme caution, moving very slowly, and looking out for wires or suspicious ticks.

But the parcel's content was not a booby trap; it turned out to be a small capped vial containing a cloudy liquid. When Stephanie reached him, they both stood transfixed to look at the tiny object inside the box, countless possibilities swirling in their minds.

Shaking off his torpor, Kuryakin put the vial into a pocket, grabbed Stephanie's hand and dragged her out of the restroom. He stopped in front of the duty free shop, saying: "Wait here. Make sure we haven't been followed."

The UNCLE agent surreptitiously watched the few passengers waiting for their flights, but they all checked all right at her expert eye.

When Kuryakin reached her and handed her a metal cigarette holder, she commented: "Since you know very well that I don't smoke, I suppose the vial is inside."

He nodded. "Yes. That's a much safer and sturdier means of transportation. The box is leaded, so its contents won't turn out at the X-ray check."

"Good thinking. Now let's go grab our flight. They have announced that boarding will start in a few minutes."

But they barely had the time to line up, when another announcement raised a chorus of complaints from all the people in line.

"We regret to inform the passengers of United Airlines flight No. 443 to New York that the flight has been cancelled for technical reasons. Please show your tickets at the booth for a refund or to book the next flight, which is due tomorrow evening."

Illya and Stephanie looked at each other, bewildered. She said: "Canceled! Another 'coincidence', no doubt."

Kuryakin agreed with her. "Yes, a coincidence called sabotage. We cannot afford to spend the night at a hotel. I'm sure we have been followed. We are unarmed. Our only hope is to stay in a crowded place. We will have to wait here for the next flight, hoping they won't mess with that, too."

They sat facing away in two different rows of seats, watching each other's back, and getting ready to a long, dangerous night.