McCarran International Airport was but a short distance from the the city, and after arriving at the ticket counter, Napoleon purchased their tickets for arrival at Chicago's O'Hare and from there they'd catch a flight to Montréal–Dorval International Airport. They were getting ahead of themselves as they really weren't positive Altschuler was heading there, but it was more of an educated guess.
Solo crossed his fingers, hoping it would pay off.
Illya leaned on the counter, standing next to his partner while Angelique stood to one side, smoking a cigarette.
"You do realize that she could be leading us astray?How do we know for sure he is heading to Quebec? It could be any number of cities in Canada, and that is presuming your assumption about the cache of money is correct."
By this point Napoleon's patience was nearing an end; he was dog tired, hungry and the bickering between his partner and Angelique was becoming more than tedious.
"You have a better idea?" He snapped at the Russian.
Illya was taken aback by the American's tone. "I was merely pointing out…"
"Well do me a favor, and stop pointing things out. I'm tired of your negative attitude and would appreciate a little more optimism from you just for once. You're always convinced everything is going to go wrong and we're going to die at every turn and frankly it gets a little grating after awhile. And you could lay off Angelique too, that's definitely gone too far…"
The Russian pursed his lips, and turning away he walked off, pulling a packet of his Turkish blend cigarettes from his pocket. He stood next to the THRUSH agent momentarily, bumming a light from her burning cigarette.
As soon as he took a long a drag on his cigarette, he coughed a little, since it had been a while since he'd smoked one.
"Here darling, try one of mine. They're much milder than that Turkish garbage you smoke."
Illya looked at her questioningly.
"Oh my God, do you really think I would try something? It's in my best interest too that we catch Willie Altshuyler."
Kuryakin dropped his own cigarette, snuffing it out with his shoe and accepting the one offered by the woman. She lit it with her silver lighter this time and waited as he took a drag, not coughing this time.
"See I told you, much milder."
"Merci," he actually broke a small, crooked smile before walking away.
Napoleon finally walked over to where Angelique was standing, noting Illya was some distance away by the airport exit.
"So what is wrong with your dour Russian and you...lover's quarrel?" She asked trying to sound more apathetic.
"Angelique I know you dislike him but please I need you to stop egging him on. We all need to concentrate on what we're doing here as can't afford making a mistake because we're distracted. I need Illya calm and collected for this affair and your constant needling is not helping matters."
She took one last drag on her cigarette before extinguishing it. "I'm sorry darling, I don't dish out more than I think he can handle and if you have taken notice, he dishes out quite a bit himself, but I will try to curb my urges, just for you." This time it was her turn to gently kiss him on the cheek.
"Do me a favor, wait here a minute," he smiled. "I need to soothe the savage Soviet."
Napoleon walked up beside his partner, holding out his ticket and boarding pass as an excuse to make conversation.
"We're going to have a bit of a wait, so let's get something to eat, maybe a couple of drinks to relax."
"Fine," Illya abruptly snatched his ticket and pass from his hand.
"Hey chum, I'm sorry for what I said to you. I didn't really mean it...I'm tired and frankly worried about this whole affair. We screw up just once and who knows how many people will die if any of those bombs detonate."
"I am concerned as well, and feel that weight upon my shoulders but must you take her side over me? That is disconcerting to say the least. I am your partner or am I second place to a bedmate now?"
"Low blow, but I deserve it. If it makes you feel any better I had a little talk with her about not needling you anymore."
"Really?"
"Yes I did. Now can we go get some food before I drop?" Napoleon practically sighed. "Hey I'm surprised you're not complaining about being hungry."
"My friend, I am always hungry. I saw no point in repeating that fact ad nauseam," Illya smiled as he flicked his cigarette, making it land perfectly in a nearby ashtray stand.
There was a small restaurant-bar in the airport and there they were seated and ordered their meals. Napoleon opted for something very American, a cheeseburger with french fries, and a slice of apple pie ala mode. Angelique was more delicate in her tastes, commenting about a girl having to watch her figure. Her meal of choice was a Caesar salad and a small bowl of minestrone soup.
Illya, with his usual ravenous appetite ordered a salad, soup, steak with mashed potatoes and for dessert, peach cobbler. When his entreé arrived, he suddenly realized he had a problem, as his left arm could barely be raised, much less his left hand to cut his steak.
Angelique seeing his dilemma, reached across the table and taking his plate, she cut the steak into manageable pieces without saying a word and when finished, she put his meal back in front of him.
Illya looked at her with cocked eyebrows, waiting for some snide remark but when none appeared, he thanked her.
They ate for the most part in silence, with Angelique not even saying anything about the amount of food the Russian was inhaling, except for a polite comment.
"Illya, I wish I could eat as heartily as you but I would gain weight instantly. How is it you stay so thin, being able to eat as much as you do?" Her comment and question were genuine and not delivered sarcastically at all.
"I have always had a such an appetite, though growing up Soviet; it often created a problem for me."
"Oh that's right in your country with the long lines for food, yes that must have been difficult. How did you manage without starving?"
"A soulful look, a little lie here and there about it being my birthday always seemed to get me free food and of course I was frugal with my money when I could be; that permitted me to eat at some local store front restaurants now and then where my lies came in handy for getting extra portions. Communal living, and cooking were a difficult living arrangement as I often arrived home too late and had to make do with scrapings from the bottom of the pot."
"Darling that is terrible. Well I do hope U.N.C.L.E. is paying you enough to keep you well fed, not like your former employer," she refrained herself. "T.H.R.U.S.H. does pay better, by the way."
"Now now Angelique," Napoleon chided, "No recruiting allowed and besides I think Illya…" His sentence remained unfinished as his communicator chirped, and picked up a nearby menu card; he ducked behind it as he answered the call.
"Solo here, give me a second to relocate sir."
"Excuse me, he said to the others. He made a beeline to the men's room making sure he was alone.
"Yes sir?" he answered the Old Man
"We've received a report from the U.S. Military installation in Nevada that your van has crossed the border into Utah. If Canada is indeed their destination, the journey by motor vehicle will take approximately thirty-seven hours. One would think travel by jet liner would be more expeditious, but if he is transporting the nuclear devices with him, a plane would be out of the question, unless it's a private flight."
"We have airports across the country being watched if that is indeed what he's up to. We also have no idea if these devices are ready or still need to be constructed, however, that being said; our intelligence sources have informed me a sizable amount of nuclear material has gone missing from Her Majesty's Naval Base Clyde in Scotland, just outside of Glasgow. It occurred three weeks ago."
"Hmmm," Napoleon spoke softly."It seems to be to our advantage then that Mr. Altschuler continues with his current mode of transportation, at least while he's here in North America."
"Yes that is a concern. Tracking him once he leaves the country will be problematic at best but I'm sure you'll come up with a solution. In the meantime, stick with your plan of heading to Canada."
"Yes sir, our flight doesn't leave for another twelve hours, so if your military sources are still able to track him, then we'll have a much better idea if he's headed there or not and can change our plans accordingly."
"Precisely, Waverly Out."
Napoleon put away his communicator, mumbling to himself about hating when the Old Man simply cut off a conversation.
"Twelve hours?" Angelique burst out. "You didn't say anything about having to wait that long for our flight. That is preposterous. What am I supposed to do, sleep on the floor of the airport. Napoleon Solo, sometimes you can be so...so American."
He didn't expect her outburst at the delay.
"Sorry, I didn't think about that. I'm just so accustomed to traveling just with Illya and not a companion of the feminine persuasion. My partner and I are just used to sleeping wherever we can find a place to hang our hats, so to speak." He shrugged sheepishly, knowing she was going to let him have it with both barrels, hopefully not literally.
Her face flushed red. "So I'm an afterthought am I...well we'll see about that." Angelique turned her attention to a passing waiter.
"Excuse me sir, but it's there a hotel close to the airport?"
"Why yes ma'am, there's the Starlight Motel just next door, has it's own little casino. It's pretty popular with people who've missed their flights or connections."
"Is it clean?"
"As far as I know ma'am, but I've never stayed there. Don't know if you'll get a room though as there's a convention in town and a lot of places are booked solid."
"Hmmmm, thank you." Angelique rose from her chair, not waiting to be assisted.
Napoleon threw down his napkin, rising and following after her.
Illya was not far behind though he was keeping his mouth shut on this one as it could prove to be amusing.
They walked to the motel, finding it surprisingly close, and wondered how they could have missed the glaring neon sign advertising it.
They approached the front desk, finding the lobby acceptable, but dated in its decor or perhaps Las Vegas tacky was the better description. A little too much glitter and glitz, but as long as the rooms were suitable, that was all that mattered.
"Yes I would like two rooms," Angelique said in a sultry but authoritative voice.
"Sorry lady, we have only one room left, and it's a single. King sized bed though...he eyed her and the two UNCLE agents.
"I'll take it," she said, not hesitating. "Don't worry Napoleon, you and your partner can sleep on the floor," she smiled ruefully."After all you two are accustomed to sleeping anywhere."
"Oh that won't be necessary," the desk clerk looked at her strangely. "We have cots available. Room 102. That'll be fifteen dollars please."
"Highway robbery,"she huffed." The two cots, there's no extra charge for them is there?"
"Ugh, no ma'am there isn't."
This time the THRUSH agent paid for the room, signing the ledger Marilyn Monroe. Napoleon followed suit by jotting down Cary Grant and for Illya, Steve McQueen. The clerk didn't even blink twice upon reading the names.
"I will go get the bags from the car," Illya tried not to smile.
"No I'll go,"Solo offered. "You can't carry the bags."
"I will manage. Angelique, which one of your many valises will you need as I will not carry in all of them."
She knew he wasn't being mean spirited as she did have a lot of luggage with her, after all a girl had to be prepared for any circumstance.
"The red one will do, and oh yes the silver travel case with my makeup and toiletries...ummm, thank you."
Illya nodded, disappearing out the motel door with a luggage cart as there was no bellhop.
"Soooo two cots?" Napoleon crooned, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She wriggled free of his grasp. "Oh no, I said you'd pay for making me an afterthought."
Napoleon pulled her back into his arms, "You could never be an afterthought." He kissed her, even though they were in the lobby, and while doing so, Solo held one hand out to the clerk who placed the room key in his hand.
They quickly disappeared to Room 102, ducking inside. The door opened a second time, only long enough for Napoleon to place a sock on the door knob.