Chapter 2
Caitlin Delaney walked into Del Floria's tailor shop exactly at noon. She tentatively glanced around the small alteration shop, looking her Rolex watch to recheck the time, although she knew exactly what time it was. Always neatly dressed with one of her favorite "one of a kind" purses on her forearm and punctual, she walked up to the tailor.
"Good afternoon, may I help you?" The pleasant older gentleman asked while standing behind the archaic pressing machine and smiled around a smelly cigar.
"Yes, although I'm a bit confused," she smiled back in her best professional domineer. "I was here to meet a Mr. Waverly at noon and was given this address, but I don't understand why all this cloak and dagger?"
"I could tell you, but then we would have to kill you," Napoleon Solo sweetly said from behind her shoulder. A new voice rang out in the tiny shop that had only two people in it a second ago and startled Caitlin. She quickly turned around to meet a man with alluring hazel eyes just slightly above her own eye level.
"Oh! You scared me!"
The stunned woman said in a rush of embarrassment to get a better look at who owned those captivating eyes. His shiny black hair was neatly trimmed and combed in a precise way; gray suit was perfectly altered to fit his medium built body; and he was a few inches taller than her, but his height seemed to fit her quite well. Not too tall or short like some of the other men she's dated. She'd almost be the same height in high heels, great for dancing if he asked. Forcibly, she pushed those thoughts back and concentrate on the matter at hand.
"Scared you? I hardly doubt that, Miss Delaney. Startled maybe, but I have a feeling that it would take a lot to scare you." Napoleon smiled warmly, challenging her to respond to his not so subtle sexual undertones.
"Startled then, I was here to meet Mr. Waverly. Are you him?" Caitlin smiled brighter than she normally did when talking to an unfamiliar man. She was drawn to his handsome looks and the smell of his very expensive cologne, one of her favorite brands yet again.
"Ah, I'm afraid not, but I work for him. My name is Napoleon Solo. Like Mr. Waverly, I work for UNCLE, Miss Delaney." Solo held out his hand, took her hand in his, gave it a small kiss, but didn't let go.
"Do you greet all your prospective clients this way?" Caitlin asked, shifting her eyes to look from his eyes to his hand holding hers and then back to face him in a well practiced manner in playing this game of pursuit and conquest. His hand clasp had just the right strength to show his hidden power, but easy for her to hold with well manicured nails and smooth skin. Another plus in her book of demands for a perspective boyfriend to have for the list was long and precise.
"Only the pretty female ones I do," the dark haired man said in a perfected lady-killer tone, adding yet another level to his challenge for her to resist his charms.
"I have a feeling that you have done this several times before, Mr. Solo." Caitlin smiled back with her best man-catching smile that she had ready for any man who tried to sweet talk her and then she turned back to her serious, business persona. "As much as I would love to play this game with you, I'm here because I'm worry about my Uncle Danny."
"Yes, this way." Solo quickly jumped back into his professional UNCLE agent persona just as well, let go of her hand with difficulty, and brought his arm forward to have her lead the way into the curtained dressing room.
"But that is the dressing room?" Caitlin looked at him with suspicious eyes as she stood rooted to the spot when two hisses from the pressing machine echoed out in the background.
"Yes, it is." Solo agreed and hooked his arm around her trim waist to propel her into the dressing room. He pulled the curtain back into place, turned to coat hook, and then opened the thick metal door to let her in.
Caitlin Delaney awkwardly stopped in front of a reception desk in the grey reception area with a secretary sitting behind a wooden desk. The arm pushing her forward halted its pressure on her back, but Napoleon's cologne still lingered.
"What the…" Caitlin started to clear her throat with a rough cough when she noticed a lady sitting at the desk dressed in a plain gray top and skirt with an upside-down triangle attached to her breast pocket and then she glimpsed a familiar slim, blond man standing against the wall slightly behind the receptionist.
Caitlin straightened up, pulled at the tips of her tailored suit jacket, repositioned her handbag, and took a turning step toward the man she remembered from somewhere before.
"Have I met you before?" Caitlin asked quickly, regaining her composure after her clumsy entrance into this crazy place, and held out her hand. If anything, she knew being and acting professional helped her remain calm in the most unprepared situations.
"Not officially met, Miss Delaney, but I did see you at a symposium where you were demonstrating your Pass Key program, Illya Kuryakin." The blond man nodded when he introduced himself.
"Oh yes! You're that doctor person." Caitlin walked up to Kuryakin, not breaking her eye contact with his bright blue eyes and he shook her hand. His strong hand was rough and callused compared to Mr. Solo's although he stood about the same height as her with a strong, confident face. "You were the one with all the questions that kept me and my technicians busy for weeks. They weren't too happy with all the new work we had to put in to make some of those improvements to our program that you'd brought up. I didn't know whether to have you shot, offer you a job, or buy you dinner, Mr. Kuryakin."
"Call me Illya, please." He smirked and eyes twinkled from her compliment. "The only one of those three options I prefer is dinner, but I do believe that we have a lunch to attend to first."
"Illya? Illya Kuryakin? Middle Eastern Europe?" Caitlin smiled wantonly, two very handsome men to choose from, although, Solo was several points ahead with height, smell, and the sexual finesse that she craved, however, she liked to mix it up once in a while.
"Russian."
He nodded, looking past her to Napoleon and gave him a challenging look with a quick shift of his gaze. All of this wasn't lost on Napoleon. He picked up the visitor tag from receptionist's grasp and placed his hand on Caitlin's shoulder to turn her back to him.
"Ignore him, he's a rude and drinks too much, Miss Delaney." Napoleon made a funny face at his partner and then back to her. "Here's the badge you need to wear so you can come with us so we can discuss your situation through those doors."
"It's Caitlin and thank you, Napoleon." Caitlin reminded the man seductively while he clipped the badge to her jacket and then extended his arm to her to lead her into the UNCLE offices with Illya in tow before the metal doors shut behind them.
In the UNCLE headquarters' commissary, Napoleon helped Caitlin with her tray while they picked up their food at the counter and headed to a small conference room down the hall from his office. It had a small table with six swivel chairs around it. They settled down by each other at one end into the padded seats. Illya had retrieved the files from research that he and Solo had requested and then sat down on the other side of Caitlin. He piled the folders in the middle and brought his tray in front of him.
Napoleon could see that Caitlin was used to eating at higher class establishments than their employee cafeteria by the way she picked at her food. He had to smile when she tried a bite of her simple salad and grimaced to its blandness.
Illya didn't seem to notice, clearing his plate of food in record time and pulled the files back towards him as he finished his tea in one gulp. Both Napoleon and Caitlin watched in wonderment while they were trying to eat their marginally editable meals; smiling at each other in amusement.
"Does he always eat like that?" Caitlin asked softly out the corner of her mouth to Napoleon, her napkin in her hand to cover her mouth to wipe away an imaginary crumb. "I don't think it took him even five minutes to eat all that or to breathe."
"This is not half of what he can put away at lunch time," Napoleon said in a loud hushed voice and then he spoke normally to Illya. "What's the matter Illya? Not very hungry today? You haven't even licked you plate clean and it took you longer than usual to eat it."
Illya didn't say anything, but turned to the two and gave them one of his best irritated glares that made most people shiver. He then continued to stack the files into the order that he wanted to read them in.
"Did it just get colder in here?" Caitlin asked, shivering from his ice-blue stare.
"Caitlin," Napoleon said after he finished swallowing the bite of food in him mouth and waved his fork at her. "You have just survived one of Illya's most deadly stares and lived to tell the tale. Frightening, isn't it?"
"It is unnerving. Does it work well?" Caitlin asked Napoleon, because all through their conversation, Illya was intentionally ignoring them.
"Very well," the taller man drew himself closer to her as if he planned to tell her Illya's deepest secrets with a gleeful smile on his face to further frustrate his partner. "He uses that special look to put fear or anger into his enemies."
"Really," Caitlin said with grudging respect and a pursing of her lips.
"Really," Illya said to end their unproductive conversation. "Now, it we've all finished our lunch, I'd like Caitlin to tell us about the death of you father. Tell me about the car accident."
"You don't pull any punches do you, Illya?" Caitlin softly asked.
Caitlin sat back in her chair soberly, crossed her arms around herself, and tucked her legs underneath her chair. She unconsciously closed herself off to the pain of that memory still so fresh in her mind even if it was just over a year ago. Napoleon leaned in even closer and took one of her hands and held it in his. She could smell the resurgence of his cologne and feel the warmth of his body next to her. It was calming to her just to have him nearby.
"It's all right. You can tell us." Napoleon's soft and reassuring voice filtered through her thoughts.
"March fifteenth of last year, my father was on the way back for a dinner date. My mother and father had split up when I turned eighteen; a graduation gift, before I started off to college. It was actually a relief that my mother moved to Europe and married a French man name Raul Egse. He's enough money to support her expensive life style." Caitlin rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders in resignation. "I see her once or twice a year. She usually doesn't have much time for me. Never did, not even when I was little."
"Caitlin," Napoleon squeezed her hand to make her look at him, her eyes were slightly glassy with tears started to weld up. "Illya and I understand how you feel about having little or no family. It's important we know so we can find out what's going on with your uncle. We have to know everything about the last year to get a timeline."
She nodded quietly, willed her tears away, and cleared the throat. Somewhere from deep inside, Caitlin knew that she could trust them even though she had just met them. She pushed the food tray away from in front of her, leaned back, and rested her folded hands in her lap.
"Well, anyway, my dad was on a dinner date with a lady he had met at a party at the Hillgate High Society Social Club Hall. It's close to my Dad and Uncle Danny's shared estate near Newport. He didn't tell me her name, because he usually didn't want me to meet his lady friends until he thought it was getting serious."
"That night he was driving her home and the report said he had lost control of his car and hit a culvert. He and his friend were killed instantly when the car burst into flames. The Medical Examiner couldn't identify the lady. Dad was recognized only by his dental records and the license plate on the car. They thought my Dad may have been drunk, but I've never known him to drink more than two beers in an entire evening, even when he was at home."
Caitlin felt another squeeze of her hands by Napoleon, but kept her eyes focused on Illya whose golden blonde head was bent down looking at a file. Watching his blank, unemotional face helped her clear her mind of the sadness rising from deep inside so she could focus on what had happened.
"The rest of that month was a blur: the funeral and who came; what to do with the business, which, between Uncle Danny and I, would run it; and did we even want to keep the estate?"
"Tell me about the wills: your father's, your uncle's, and yours." Illya softly asked, lifting his eyes up to meet hers with their usual blue intensity. "Start with the one your father had before he died."
"Do you think that our money caused the death of my father?"
"Caitlin," Napoleon spoke loud enough for her to turn towards him, his eyes were warm and understanding when quick flash of anger colored her face to the thoughts that rolled around her head for the first time. "We don't know even it that is a possibility yet or just a crazy idea. We have to explore all avenues first to find a starting point. The death of your father was the first traumatic event and that's where we need to start."
"The will is the same one we had since my parents' divorce, right before I finished my first year in college. It stipulated that if anything should happen to him, all assets and companies developed after the divorce settlement were to be divided fifty-fifty between me and Uncle Danny. The preceding will we had before that stated everything was divided equally between my father, Uncle Danny, and me. Even if anyone of us were to marry, the other three would still have their share, but if one of us three died, that percentage was given automatically to the other survivors. No spouse, child, or trust could touch it without all parties agreeing to allow it.
"I'm sure that he told every woman that he was serious about that she would get nothing if he should die or get divorced," Caitlin said, with an arrogant shift of her body. "He was straight forward and brutally honest when it came to family money and me. It toughened me up to face any situation just like any of my Catholic Irish ancestors would've done when they emigrated here. He even taught me how to box…"
Both Napoleon and Illya smiled while watching her properly ball her fists up and assumed the classic boxing first position in the chair and then just as quickly, straightened herself up into a proper lady, smoothing her shirt, crossing her legs at the ankles, gently placed her hands on her lap, and she pleasantly smiled, awaiting Illya's next question.
"How was your father's death on your Uncle Danny?" Napoleon asked the next question, rising to get them all coffee from the pot that was brewing in the corner.
"Hard, like me," Caitlin said and watched him pour coffee into a cup before he handed it to her. "Dad and Uncle Danny were twins and did almost everything together when they were younger; went to the same college, started a business together, and even lived in the same house together. Dad always felt that he needed to watch out for Danny so he wouldn't get hurt and now that is my job."
"Why is that?" Illya asked with peeked interest. "Does he have an impairment?"
"No, he's very intelligent, creative, funny…and sometimes a little flamboyant," Caitlin said with a slight raise of her eyebrows and voice. She swirled her wrist and the snapped her hand down in a very feminine gesture.
"I see." Napoleon nodded in understanding of her uncle's sexual orientation now.
"He really isn't out of the closet, because of his position in the company and his social status in the community. Uncle Danny really is quite sweet and actually has quite a few women after him due of his good looks and money. He dates just enough to appear straight, but is very selective and secretive in whom he gets involved with."
"How did your father's death affect your uncle's relationships?" Napoleon asked, resting his elbow on his chair armrest and his chin in his hand, leaning in close.
"Well, the "special friend" he had before Dad's death left, because of the strain it put on their relationship and I don't know of any other attachments since. I'd be the first one he would tell. I do know that he was finally feeling it was time to try again. About a month ago, he started to go to Hillgate's social club to check out the scene. Male and female, Uncle Danny loves to be in a crowd of people and is very popular.
"About a week ago, he told me a lady friend that was getting a little too close, but he enjoyed her company so much that he was going to tell her the truth. That was one of last times I talked to him outside of the office. It's a rule of ours that only business is discussed at work, not our social interests or sex lives."
"This seems only reasonable if you want to keep your private life, private." Illya added, directing a steady gaze at his partner. Napoleon only smiled and mouthed the words "no way" while Illya dramatically rolled his eyes. "Please Caitlin, continue on."
Caitlin caught the interaction between the two agents and grinned, but didn't comment. "Any way, Uncle Danny and I haven't had a chance to talk. I was gone this last week in Washington D.C. at a sales conference when Dr. Heaford called and said that he had an episode last night."
"Did you know that your uncle was on medications?" Illya asked in a low voice.
"No, I know he wasn't on anything except for vitamins. Dr. Heaford said that he was on some medicine to help with depression that still lingered from Dad's death. I don't remember the name of medicine the doctor said he was on. Well, that was all news to me. Why Uncle Danny wouldn't have told me? We talk about everything, even about his boyfriends. I just don't get it."
"Have you seen Uncle Danny since you were called by Dr. Heaford?" Napoleon asked her with interest when he tried to reassure her.
"No. The doctor said not to visit for a couple of days to give him time to rest. Then I could see for myself that he's resting comfortably. That I had nothing to worry about," Caitlin said in a controlled, terse voice full of irritation for not being able to see her uncle in person to see that he was really okay. "That's when I called Mr. Waverly and he asked me to meet him here at noon. Other than getting two phone calls this morning, everything else has been the same and strangely calm at work."
"What were the phone calls about?" Illya stopped perusing at the files and looked up at her.
"The first one was the Newport Examiner to ask me about my uncle's outburst at the biggest social event of the season. I'm sure that this whole incident has spread like wildfire. Dollars to donuts, tomorrow's society columns will be chuck full of trivial information about him and his irresponsible and very public behavior last night."
"What did you tell them?" Napoleon asked in concern for her business and social standing.
"I lied and said that I agreed with Dr. Heaford. That he was still depressed over his brother's death and having a hard time dealing with it right now, on the anniversary of the accident. After a short rest at the sanitarium and home for medication adjustment, Uncle Danny should be able to continue as acting CEO, but until that time, I would be interim director and limit my participation in sales and development until he's better. Well, some of this is the truth even though I hate to admit it."
"And the second phone call?"
"Oh, the second one was from my dear friend and lawyer, Craig Green of Green, Wyatt, and Schultz. He called me, because he heard that Uncle Danny was taken to Hillgate and wanted to find out if his rights were protected and was going to see if there was a legal issues with his abrupt stay. Whether or not it was a voluntary or court ordered commitment and how long it was going to be for him to rot in that place. Craig's familiar with Uncle Danny's personal and financial affairs also."
"How well do you know this Craig Green?" Illya asked in a serious voice, wondering if he should add his name to their list of people to investigate. "Can you trust him?"
"Very much so, Craig and I've been friends since high school and he became my lawyer the minute he passed his bar exams and began his own firm. I gave him the start up money. " Caitlin stated her conviction in a firm voice of Green's character. "I'm to meet with him at four to see if he's found anything."
"Caitlin, I think it would be wise if I go and stay with you until Illya can check out some of these leads and your home for anything suspicious. Most of this sounds pretty straight forward, but we need to be thorough," Napoleon said out loud as he caught Illya's slight nod of his head and the smallest twist of a smiled, but didn't voice it.
"Is this just an elaborate rue of yours to invite me to dinner and then I come to your place to spend the night, Napoleon?" Caitlin asked in her most alluring voice and twist of pouty lips. She didn't mind spending more time with him at all.
"Yes, I guess it is. Do you mind?" Napoleon's face brightened, flashing his lady-killer smile that he had used before in the tailor shop.
"Illya, are you going to join us?" Caitlin turned her eyes to the blond to see if he would take up her challenge as well.
"I would love to come tonight, Caitlin." Illya focused on his partner who was giving him the look of ultimate distress. "Napoleon frequently needs chaperoning, especially with such an enticing person as you sitting next to him and sharing an elegant meal…"
"Elegant meal! You think canned beef stew is an elegant meal." Napoleon sat up in his chair with a sarcastic look on his face. "How dare you think that I wouldn't be a perfect gentleman to her? You're not afraid of me, are you, Caitlin?"
"Of course not, Napoleon, I can easily take care of myself and you. So far, you've yet to prove to me that you are not just like every other man I've dated."
"But!" Illya spoke up before Napoleon could respond to Caitlin arrogant presumptions. "I have other personal plans tonight and you two will have to play this game without me."
Napoleon looked at his friend in utter shock and was surprised at the choice of words he used.
"I also want to go through your estate and its grounds while you two go to see your lawyer friend." Illya's tone was so matter-of-fact, Napoleon has to think twice if he had actually heard his lightening quick response about playing games. "Napoleon, I'll set up the usual devices there if you plan to spend the night there instead of at your place. It won't take me too long."
"Don't count on that, Illya. The house and lawns are quite extensive if you are used to most the apartments here in New York. I'll call ahead and have the housekeeper and ground's man know that you are coming. I'll give Napoleon a list of people who work at the estate when we go to my office."
"That would be much appreciated, thank you," Illya simply said and smiled knowingly, deciding not to burst Caitlin's bubble to what he and Napoleon have experienced in their service for UNCLE.
"Well, I guess that it's all settled then?" Napoleon asked in almost disappoint in how easily Illya backed down from trying to take this woman away from him in their usual game of one up-man ship, so to speak. Even on some of the last few assignments, Illya still casually dated to keep from being bored while he was away from Lexi, but this time he questioned his intentions for giving up so quickly.
"We'll leave for Caitlin's office before we meet with Mr. Green and then got out to eat while you finish looking over this information and check out her home. Call us when you've finished."
"I will." Illya nodded and they all stood up.
Caitlin and Napoleon both took a moment to check their outfits and tugged at their sleeves in unison. Illya turned to give Caitlin's hand a squeeze, a quick kiss near her wrist, and then warmly smiled. He was drawing her deeply into his vast blue eyes that seemed big as the ocean. She cleared her throat, repositioned her purse on her forearm, trying to break her contact with those magnetic eyes.
As Napoleon motioned for Caitlin to lead the way out of the door, he gave Illya a "what do you think?" look before he followed her into the hall to get a mere shrug of Illya's shoulders before his head bent down once again over the files. "Mr. Waverly seems to think there's something there. Call me with the employee names."
"Will do," Napoleon gave him a quick salute, dragging the same hand over his hair to check if it was still in place.