Chapter Four - External Affairs
"Empty." Illya Kuryakin slid his special back into his shoulder holster. "At least in terms of hostile personnel.
Using the key the Illya had 'accepted' from Helga Schmidt - and the matching key Klaus had already offered to Napoleon - the two agents had entered unobserved into the suite on the top floor of the Bregenz Hotel.
"Hmm," Napoleon Solo followed procedure and cautiously checked the backs of each empty closet for trap doors. No clothes, no identifying articles - although some of the toys tucked in the nightstands of the master bedroom had been... fascinating. Perfect textbook trap. Clearly no one had been living here. Not even briefly. As there were also no THRUSH minions lurking behind the walls waiting to take them captive?
He waited until Illya finished his likewise ritual sweep of the picture frames.
"That was probably a fishing expedition." Napoleon tested the connecting door. It was locked from the other side as well as this one. "I didn't like the look of your old friend Helga. I think she was out to seduce you."
"You think she works for THRUSH?" Illya asked carefully.
"Who else would try such a thing?"
"No one I can imagine."
Illya nodded. That was the most obvious conclusion, and no listener would expect Solo to reach any other.
"Let me check the bedroom. Yes" In a few moments the Russian agent was back, his right palm bearing a tiny gray box, and the left a miniature tape recorder. "In the headboard I found this recording device." Illya turned over the tiny microphone with a calmly professional interest. "There appear to have been some improvements in THRUSH design."
"Good work, Illya. As always." Napoleon slid the drapes aside gently, peering though the crack at the busy street below. Nothing particularly suspicious. At least, not for Berlin. "Do you think we should go back to our hotel?" he asked carefully. "If Helga planed to take you there it may be watched."
"True." Illya paused, clearly considering the question. "But to find another room at this hour?"
Napoleon checked the locks on the window. Perfectly solid. He stepped away. "They might watch ours room, but would even the most paranoid THRUSH watch their OWN agents?"
"Perhaps," Illya answered. "But tonight it is unlikely they would risk it. If you had seen anyone suspicious when you arrived with Klaus? Or Helga?" Illya had no need to finish the sentence.
"Very true. Klaus had asked me to come back here with him." Napoleon checked the door lock, then wedged it with a chair to be doubly safe. "So?" Evidently satisfied, he headed for the elaborate bar set in one corner of the well-furnished living room. "Do you think they poisoned the Scotch?"
"Probably not if they only wanted information." Illya reached past his partner, pulling out a bottle and two glasses. "Just in case? Stick to the brandy."
*********************
Two hours later anyone watching would have observed an American agent who was getting very drunk. And very amorous. And a Russian agent who was extremely cooperative with both goals.
Four hours later they would have observed no movement at all. But the evidence they would observe would have been damning. The train of discarded clothing lead from the sofa (ties and jackets) to the nightstand (belts and trousers) to the bathroom (everything else) and finally to the two agents themselves. Those last two were quite unconscious, and quite unclothed, and quite intertwined in the middle of the satin-sheeted mattress.
When General Strasenhaur, a few hours after that, finally retrieved the camera concealed in the decorative molding, the Stazi officer would be very satisfied indeed. Almost as satisfied as the two men he had photographed.
Klaus had been careless - or perhaps just unlucky. (The distinction did not matter, as either way he would be severely punished.) Helga had been careless and too easily flustered. Illya Kuryakin, however, had done his service proud. He had salvaged the mission, moving quickly and without regard to personal cost. Strasenhaur made a note to call Moscow and recommend the agent for yet one more Order of Lenin.
UNCLE was more fortunate than Strasenhaur hoped they would ever realize, having a man like that in their ranks. The General only wished there could be more like him.
*********************
It was early morning before there was any further movement in the room.
"Wake up, Napoleon." Illya called out, identifying himself before he shook his partner's shoulder. "I have to report in." The blonde man slid from the bed. "You should shower and meet me at the Berlin UNCLE Headquarters for lunch."