#89 – Candy
Of all the most interesting and unique places to stake out, a candy store had to rank among the very top of the list. Napoleon and Illya sauntered up and down the aisles, pretending to take the utmost fascination in chocolate and peppermint and butterscotch. Well, for Illya, at least, the interest was not entirely an act.
Lucius, tagging along to observe but still recovering from his battle scars, remained near the counter. From what Napoleon could hear, he was inquiring about apple-flavored desserts.
"You'd think he'd get tired of them after a while," Napoleon remarked. "Some of the agents have been joking that he'll probably get fed up sooner or later and it will be a source of amusement for years to come."
"Unlikely," Illya replied, reaching to take down the newest variety of Lindt chocolate truffles. "He told me that apples have been his favorite food since childhood."
"Illya, are you actually planning to purchase everything you're amassing?" Napoleon stared at the basket slung over Illya's arm. Boxes and bags of candy were stacked to the rim.
"Why not?" Illya returned. "We have to look interested. You might benefit from a box or two yourself, Napoleon. If you don't care to consume any personally, I'm sure you can find a beautiful lady who would appreciate the gift."
"Hmm. You do have a point there," Napoleon mused. He took a renewed interest in the shelves.
"You changed the subject on purpose," Illya said after a moment.
Napoleon paused. He should have known better than to try to fool his partner and friend. "I suppose I'm wondering how our esteemed assassin came to chat with you about his childhood," he said. "The both of you are usually so aloof."
"It was an offhand comment," Illya answered. "I haven't spoken with him that often." He straightened, looking to Napoleon. "But you, my friend, have certainly been watching him like the proverbial hawk."
Napoleon shrugged. "I want to know what he's up to. I suppose I still don't really trust him."
"But you trust Mr. Waverly, don't you?"
"That doesn't mean I necessarily think that every decision he makes is a wise one."
The conversation at the counter had stopped. Curious, Napoleon removed a box of peanut brittle from the shelf and peered through the opening at the counter. Lucius was leaning against the counter with his back to it, munching on a miniature apple pie bar.
"How many of these to a case?" he asked after a moment.
"Twenty-four," the clerk replied.
"I'll take two cases."
Napoleon shook his head. "Lucius enjoys apples almost as much as you enjoy eating in general, Illya."
"Food is one of life's greatest pleasures," Illya said, stepping out of the aisle.
"Perhaps, although I can think of other things I enjoy even more," Napoleon smoothly returned.
The opening of the door prevented Illya's response. Both agents glanced over, watching as a blond man in a trenchcoat and fedora wandered into the store. Dark sunglasses completely concealed his eyes.
"If he's trying to blend into the scenery, it isn't working," Lucius grunted.
"You don't think he's one of the men we're waiting for," Napoleon exclaimed.
"He's far too obvious," Illya added.
"Which is why he's a suspicious character." Lucius finished the dessert and started writing a check for the two cases.
"More than that, I have the strangest feeling I've seen him somewhere before," Napoleon frowned.
"I am having the same feeling," Illya declared. And he intended to do something about it.
He immediately walked over to the newcomer. "Excuse me," he greeted. "Have we met?"
The man turned, his sunglasses slipping down his nose and revealing unimpressed blue eyes. "Where would I have met you before, mate?" he asked, his British accent thick and unmistakable.
"I don't know," Illya frowned. "Perhaps I have made a mistake. I apologize."
The other man moved on, crossing to the front aisle. Illya returned to stand with Napoleon and Lucius, still scrutinizing the newcomer.
"You don't really think you're wrong, do you?" Lucius grunted.
"No," Illya replied. "Not when Napoleon feels the same way. But I cannot place him at all."
Lucius slid the check across the counter. "At least do you know if he's an ally or an enemy?" he asked.
"I would be inclined to say enemy, but perhaps it is just my bias," Illya shot back.
"It's strange, you know," Napoleon commented. "We hardly ever see anyone dressed in such a cliché manner. You would think he would stand out more in our memories."
The man in the trenchcoat selected several items and brought them to the counter. Lucius moved to the side to allow him room, but kept himself propped on the counter with a forearm.
"These two men think they've seen you somewhere," he said.
Seemingly uninterested, the stranger took out his wallet and handed the clerk several bills in American money. "I don't see how that's anything to me," he said.
"It probably isn't," Lucius shrugged. "Unless you did something that should keep them remembering you."
"Maybe," the British man said slowly, "they did something instead." Thanking the clerk, he took the shopping bag and moved to depart.
Napoleon stepped into his path. "Now just a minute," he said, keeping his voice both smooth and dangerous. "I believe you should explain that last remark."
"I was merely making a suggestion, Sir," was the equally smooth reply. "By the way . . ." He glanced over his shoulder. "You're looking well, Pinto."
Lucius went stiff. "You know me?" he demanded. Now he was as interested as Napoleon and Illya.
A smirk. "We met a time or so. Of course, that was long before any possible meeting with your new friends." He touched the brim of his fedora and weaved around Napoleon, heading briskly for the door.
Napoleon and Illya promptly gave chase, with Lucius limping behind. But just as they lunged to tackle him, the stranger dived outside and around a corner. Running to catch up with him was no use; he had vanished.
Napoleon ground to a halt, exasperated and frustrated. "Well, he's gone."
"And now I'm more than a little interested to know who that character is," Lucius frowned.
"You don't have any ideas at all?!" Illya exclaimed.
Lucius thought for a moment. "Maybe one," he conceded. "But it doesn't make sense."
"What about the last few days has made sense?" Napoleon countered. "If you have any ideas at all, I for one would welcome them."
Lucius hesitated, leaning on his cane. "I remember a British assassin," he said slowly. "Just a young kid, really. He wasn't one of the top men in the business, but he didn't do too badly for himself, even if he did like being cliché and obvious. Then someone found him mysteriously stabbed in Hyde Park."
Illya stiffened. "Dead?"
Lucius shrugged. "He was never heard of after that."
Illya turned, looking to Napoleon. "Napoleon, do you . . . ?"
". . . I vaguely remember a young British assassin," Napoleon said slowly. "You twisted his hand around and stabbed him in his stomach with his own knife."
Illya stared down the vacant street. "'I would be gutted if I knew,'" he muttered. "Of course; that's it!" He turned back to Napoleon and Lucius. "That's the man who hacked into U.N.C.L.E.'s computer the other day. He knew about Lucius. And that's what he was talking about when he said I'd be gutted—it was a clue, a reference to when I stabbed him!"
Napoleon raised an eyebrow. "Alright, so that could very well be true," he said. "But we still have more questions than answers. What is he doing here? Is he out for revenge?"
"If he is, he's playing games first," Illya said.
"And he's going to be back," Lucius added flatly. "But probably not today." He turned, limping back towards the shop.
Napoleon frowned. "Just where are you going?"
"Back inside," Lucius said. "I bought two cases of that dessert, if you remember."
Napoleon sighed. "We're being stalked by a very not-dead British assassin and he still chooses to get his apples."
"Well," Illya said calmly, "perhaps the food will help us to think better on what to do. Not to mention, we're still on a stakeout, Napoleon."
With that, he followed Lucius inside. He had a basket of treats to buy.
Throwing up his hands in exasperation, Napoleon trailed after them.