Illya had the shower going at full blast, letting the pulsating water massage his scar-covered back. His shower at home had no such pressure nor fancy fixtures to do such things and he was going to take advantage of it while here.
Once done lathering and rinsing he stepped out to the bath mat, grabbing a plush hotel robe hanging on a hook, compliments of the hotel. This he thought was a nice plus and would remind himself to bring it home with him. He doubted accounting would ask him to turn it in, post mission.
It was part of the cost of the room, so why waste it? He grabbed a towel, quickly rubbing his hair dry and hanging it up when he was done with it.
He looked in the steamy mirror, taking the towel again and wiping it off. Perhaps he needed a shave, looking at himself and feeling his chin; he drew his razor from his kit, giving it a quick sharpening with a heavy leather strop before he lathered up his shaving dish.
He snickered for a second, knowing that if Napoleon were here, there'd be comments about him getting rid of his 'dead man's razor' in favor a safety razor or better still and electric one. His feelings were that his razor not only served a practical purpose, but it was useful as a weapon as well.
Having it helped cut he and Solo free of their bonds when the two of them had once been taken captive and thrown into their hotel bathroom; a safety razor or electric one could not have been used for such a quick escape, all thanks an old fashioned straight razor.
Once his grooming was complete, he dressed himself in his tuxedo. The seamstress had done a good job fitting the white jacket and black trousers to his lean figure, and for once there would be no wisecracks on the part of his partner about the black tux that he owned and usually wore with the ruffled shirt. This was top drawer as Napoleon would say.
Illya stood in front of his dressing mirror, admiring the fit and as the final touch he tied his bow-tie. The holster and gun beneath the jacket were hidden perfectly, no telltale bulge at all.
He tucked a few other gadgets into his pockets, and some C-4 into the false heel in one of his dress shoes. His cufflinks were special, ones that would help him win at the roulette wheel if cash was needed, that was of course once he substituted a pair of dice with electronic receivers in them.
Lastly he picked up his communicator, deciding it was time to contact Napoleon to see if he was ready.
"Channel F-Solo."
He waited for what he would be tempted to call an inordinate amount of time before his partner finally responded, seeming rather breathless at that.
"Solo here…" he gasped.
"Are you all right? Why are you out of breath?"
There was a muffled giggle in the background.
"Napoleon," Illya growled," how in the hell did you manage to find a woman already? Can you not control yourself?"
"Weeeeell, she sort of found me."
"Hello Illya,"Angelique purred.
Solo could just tell his partner was rolling those blue eyes of his.
"She was here waiting for me."
"Well that solves us...you meeting up with her. When will you both be decent, as we have an appointment with the casino?"
There was a muffled sound, as it was obvious Napoleon was covering the mic on his communicator. "Give us ten minutes tovarisch."
"Ten minutes Napoleon Solo, are you mad?" Angelique blurted out, I need at least a half-hour to shower and do my makeup and hair and clothing and I assure you that is record time for me."
'You heard?"
"How could I not? I will knock on your door in forty-five minutes, giving her highness and extra fifteen minutes to apply enough makeup on her ghastly face."
Angelique stuck out her tongue at the communicator but said nothing until Solo closed it.
"How can you tolerate that insect of a man? He never has anything good to say, and is always so miserable."
"Angelique, he's a lot nicer than you want to give him credit for, if you only knew him well enough."
"That darling, is never going to happen."
She slipped from the bed, surprisingly wrapping herself in the sheet and headed to the bathroom. "Dearest, restrain yourself. I want no company while I bathe."
"I think I can manage to control myself...leave me some hot water will you?" He realized that was a rather silly thing to say in a hotel like this.
She snickered as she closed the door in his face.
While she was in the shower, Solo took the time to go through her luggage, finding nothing surprising; an extra pistol, some explosive devices, sleep cigarettes, handcuffs.
He laid out his tuxedo, waiting for the bathroom to be freed up. Showering and shaving wouldn't take him very long, especially if he were alone.
Twenty minutes later Angelique emerged, wrapped in a fluffy white terrycloth robe, her hair and makeup impeccably done.
"It's all yours, and I left you plenty of hot water, don't worry."
"Oh I wasn't," he winked, closing the door and locking it. Placing his kit on the counter along with his gun; his shower was quick as was his shave with his electric razor. When he emerged, Angelique was nowhere in sight.
He changed into his tux, fitting his holster and Special into into place. Napoleon was careful as he dressed as the buttons on his shirt were the explosive kind as were his cufflinks.
"Angelique?" He finally called her.
"Here in the sitting room." She emerged through the bedroom door wearing a stunning white tea length chiffon dress with a beaded bodice, just cut low enough to reveal a bit of her stunning cleavage. She draped a white fur stole across her shoulders, while holding a matching beaded bag in her hand.
It was obvious to him she wanted to make an entrance.
She did a little turn in place. "What do you think darling?"
"Stunning as always," he smiled charmingly. Solo approached her, giving the THRUSH agent a peck on the cheek, while running his hand along her thigh.
"My pistol is strapped to my other leg dearest, and I have a small one in my purse, along with my pair of handcuffs. I'm sure you know about those after searching my luggage."
Napoleon gave her no reaction. "Hmmm, handcuffs might come in handy whenever we make it back to bed."
"You are a naughty boy Napoleon Solo, I suppose that is one of the reasons why I adore you."
A coded knock at the door interrupted their conversation.
"Ah the insipid Russian, always on time isn't he?"
"Angelique, I think you need to lay off him, at least for now? All right?" Napoleon warned.
"Oh if you insist, even though it's fun jabbing at him, trying to get a rise. Is he always so cold? What do your people call him…'the Ice Prince?' Such a fitting name for him as far as I can see, he's as cold as a Beluga whale."
"Dear I hate to tell you but Beluga whales, like all whales, are mammals and therefore warm-blooded creatures," he tried not to laugh. "Now I believe we need to let my partner in, if you don't mind."
Napoleon opened the door, seeing his partner standing there looking quite dapper in his fitted tux.
"Well don't you clean up nicely tovarisch," he smiled.
Illya grunted his reply as he stepped inside, seeing Angelique standing behind his partner. He looked her up and down, saying nothing.
"See, I told you Napoleon...colder than a fish."
"Angelique, enough."
"I think we need to get going. I would hate to miss our quarry because of your rendezvous with my partner Angelique. You are sure you will recognize him?" Illya handed Napoleon a copy of the photograph Waverly had given them.
She snatched it from Solo's fingers, eyeing it carefully.
"Yes this is him, though I believe he's lost a fair amount of weight since this was taken and he most likely will be wearing a toupee. He's rather short...you're height Illya." She couldn't resist getting in one last dig at the Russian.
She handed the photo back to the American, and Napoleon opened the door, waving his hand in front of himself. "Après vous mademoiselle."
The two UNCLE agents followed her out into the corridor, and Solo offered her his arm as they walked to the elevator; Illya trailing behind them.
"Wooof," the Russian made a barking noise, in reference to Angelique's last name no doubt.
Napoleon caught it instantly."Illya, you knock it off too." He could hear his partner sniggering but ignored it, speaking instead about the 'plan.'
"When we get to the casino it might be a good idea to separate for a bit," he said. We can meet at the the Baccarat table, say after a half hour?"
"Does he know what you look like?" Illya asked the woman.
"I met him once, ever so briefly years ago at a Council meeting when I was much younger, and a brunette. I don't think he'll remember me."
"You were a brunette?" Napoleon asked as they stepped onto the elevator.
"Just for an assignment dear, you of all people know I'm a natural blonde," she responded nonchalantly.
"Casino,"Illya said to the elevator operator, ignoring what Angelique had just said.
The elevator door opened to a cacophony of sight and sound, with all the bells and whistles from the gaming machines blasting away. Music, flashing lights and cigarette smoke surrounded the throngs of well dressed people milling about, sitting at the slot machines or tables, winning and losing their money without a thought.
"Which way do you think?"
"First let's head to the buffet, grab some food and we can wander around, it'll make us look less conspicuous," Napoleon said.
He'd suggested it deliberately, knowing his partner was hungry, and annoyed about Angelique. What better way to soothe the savage Illya than to let him have a little food.
The buffet was spectacular with carving stations of turkey and ham, omelettes made to order, sausages, bacon, vegetables, fruit salads. meatballs, all sorts of pasta dishes, lobster, caviar... The last two items drew Angelique and Illya's immediate attention.
He filled a plate with lobster tails already cleaned from the shells along with caviar, and she a plate of caviar with crackers. Napoleon opted for some miniature meatballs, small enough that he could spear them with a toothpick.
"What's his favorite game?" He whispered to her, popping a meatball into his mouth.
"He plays many games of chance, slot machines, blackjack, roulette mostly. This information I gleaned from his files." She used a teaspoon to put a small amount of caviar and devoured it.
"Okay then, let's split up…"Solo reached into his pocket, removing a communicator pen. "This is only a loan," he said handing to Angelique.
"I presume you understand how it works," Illya said, biting into a lobster tail.
She looked at his plate. "You are a pig Kuryakin, look how much food you have piled on your plate. Have you no manners?"
He was going to say something about his high metabolism, but stopped himself as it would be giving personal information over to the enemy and something that could be used against him someday.
"What can I tell you, I like lobster and of course being Russian, caviar is like candy to me."
She turned her nose up in the air in disdain.
"Will you two knock it off." Napoleon interrupted. "Angelique you take the blackjack tables, Illya slots and I'll check out the roulette wheel. We rotate positions in fifteen minutes. Understood?"
Angelique had been given a modified communicator just to be able to keep in contact with the two of them and nothing more.
"Oh one other thing," Illya said. "Depress that little button on the side of the communicator to silence it; it will vibrate instead."
It was a little development being tested by Kuryakin and R&D.
The others nodded their approval before disappearing into the crowd.
Illya headed to the cashier's desk, handing over a hundred dollar bill and getting change for the slots and chips for roulette and blackjack, just in case. Standing around and eating but not gambling would eventually become suspicious; if Altschuler was the caliber agent Waverly said he was, the man would be on constant alert.
Kuryakin found himself a likely spot, giving him a good view of the rows of the one arm bandits, placing the plate with the remainder of his food on top of the machine he'd laid claim to for the moment.
Illya sat sideways, as he dropped a coin in the slot and pulling the lever, not even watching for the results. He repeated that action again and again, only stopping gather any coins he'd won and put them in a cardboard cup supplied by the casino.
He reached up, grabbing the last lobster tail, turning his head again to observe the other players, when a scantily clad waitress stepped in front of him, blocking his view.
"Good evening sir, would you care for a drink?" She held a tray in her hand, with and order book laying on it.
Illya looked her up and down; her hourglass figure appearing to have been poured into the little sequined bathing suit-like costume she wore. She had a fair amount of cleavage showing, enough to get the Russian's attention and for a moment he wished he could explore those glorious breasts.
He shook himself back to reality. "Yes, please…do you have Stoli?"
"But of course sir. How would you like it?"
Illya swallowed hard…"Ummm, straight up Miss, thank you."
She smiled at him as she wrote down his order and location. "I'll be back in a few minutes with your drink sir. Good luck with the slots."
He nodded his thanks and looked past her immediately. There he was!
Willie Altschuler had parked himself not three slot machines away from him. Illya turned his back to the man, concealing himself as he pulled his communicator. "Channel F-Solo. There was a moment of silence before his partner responded.
"Solo, you spot him?"
"Yes by the slot machines."
"Just stay with him, don't do anything. If he leaves, follow but keep your distance, do your invisible thing."
"Understood. Out."
Illya continued to observe him; Angelique was right, he'd slimmed down compared to the picture, and he was indeed wearing a dark toupee but sported a moustache as well, fake no doubt.
The Russian continued to absentmindedly feed his coins to the slot machine, needing to maintain his cover as a gambler.
Suddenly just as Altschuler stood, leaving his seat, a loud bell went off at Illya's machine, and a light on top of it began to flash. He'd hit the jackpot.
He looked frantically as the coins began to topple out of the machine, some cascading to the floor. He stuck his large cup there, catching them and handing an empty one to an older lady sitting next to him at her own machine, inviting her to his.
"Here mother, this is yours...a gift."
He took off after Altshuyler, not waiting for the woman to respond, even though he'd just handed her five hundred dollars…
His communicator in hand, he whispered, "Channel F-Angelique he is headed your way. Dark toupee, moustache."
"How can that be? He is already here and has been for ten minutes?"