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home | part 1 |
In the meantime Illya and Ed were heading in the opposite direction, towards Selsey. Illya had got his hands on a tough looking four-wheeled drive, a contrast to the sleek sports car Napoleon had opted for. Illya liked the feel of the solid machine though, and he figured it was more suited to chicken farms.
"How did we end up with the chicken farms?" Ed asked mournfully.
Illya shrugged. "That is the way of things," he said philosophically. "How much further?"
Ed consulted the map. "We've just going round Pagham harbour, the first farm is off Rotten Row, north of Selsey, maybe another ten minutes.
"Rotten Row," Illya mused. "How appropriate."
Ten minutes and a number of windy lanes later Illya swung the jeep off the road and into the cover of the trees.
"It would be easier to do sneaking around at night," Illya observed.
"We can't afford to wait," Ed reminded him. "I know what you mean though," he added wistfully.
"Shall we for the direct approach or the sneaky back door way?" Illya asked.
"Sneaky back door, please," Ed requested without hesitation.
Both men were dressed casually, dark trousers and a dark turtleneck. Illya checked his UNCLE special. Ed watched on enviously. He had fallen in love with the UNCLE gun; attracted to its cool add on bits. However, the boss man at UNCLE HQ had refused to let him have one. Ed was a civilian and technically not even born yet. Apparently, if he shot anyone the paperwork would be horrendous. Ed slung a coil of rope round his shoulders, and announced himself ready.
The two men walked sneakily through the woods. They climbed sneakily over the fence and sneaked across the yard, using the various building as cover. They paused, sneakily of course, and grinned big sneaky grins.
"We must talk about where you learned to sneak so well," Ed declared.
"It comes naturally," Illya replied. "You are a very sneaky mover yourself."
"A misspent youth," Ed admitted with a smirk.
All business again, Illya indicated the building with a tall aerial and Ed nodded in agreement. A careful look round and the men flitted towards its shelter. There were no windows, but Illya had observed a skylight. Ed quickly swung the rope until he had it tied round the metal pipe that jutted up from the roof. Ed climbed up first, quickly followed by Illya.
Ed prised open the skylight, and with Illya hanging onto his ankles, lowered himself, head first, into the shed. The clucking which had seemed quite distant increased dramatically, as the chickens voiced their alarm at the strange intrusion.
All of a sudden Ed started coughing and choking. "Ark, urk! Help, pull me up," he gasped. Illya hauled him up immediately and started checking the spluttering form for injuries.
"What's wrong, where are you hurt?" He asked, when he couldn't locate any dents or blood.
"The SMELL!" Ed gasped in horror.
"What?"
"The stench! Chicken shit, feathers and rotten eggs multiplied by a hundred," he forced out as he desperately sucked in fresh air. "I could have been the first person to be killed by a smell! Are you sure there isn't any way we could swap assignments?" He asked plaintively.
Illya just grinned. "No, this is definitely not something Napoleon would do." He waited a moment. "So what did you see?" he asked, once Ed had got his breath back and was no longer a sickly green colour.
"Just chickens," Ed said, closing the skylight.
"What was the aerial for?" Illya asked.
"It was hooked up to an ordinary radio. Maybe reception isn't too hot around here," Ed theorised. "Anyway, look at this place. There's no-one here, no cameras, no security."
Illya agreed. "I don't think THRUSH are using this farm."
The two men sneaked back they way they had come. When they were back in the jeep, Ed got the map out. "How many farms did your guys say there were?" He asked.
"Twenty-two, in a twenty mile radius," Illya said stoically. He started up the engine. "And I do not think they will all be as easy to check as that one was."
"Well as long as they don't all smell as bad I won't mind." Ed retorted as they set off for the next farm.
Ros clucked questioningly.
Mark, the UNCLE agent who had been assigned to her, tried to explain. "You see, we know from one of the intercepted messages that there's another lab where they're carrying out their experiments. We're guessing it's a chicken farm, but what's really useful is that we know the rough area it's located in. It's just there's a lot of farms in the area, so it might be while before Illya and Ed track it down."
"Cluck, cluck?" Ros asked, scratching at the floor.
"Oh, they tossed a coin. Napoleon and your friend Beckett have gone to Brighton. We know that the address of Dr Bantam's lab assistant, although we don't know anything about her."
"Cluck!" Ros said petulantly.
"Oh no, THRUSH female agents are rarely attractive," Mark reassured her, keeping his fingers tightly crossed behind his back.
However Ros continued to cluck in an agitated manner.
"There, there," Mark tried to soothe her. "Don't ruffle your feathers - not that you have any of course," he added hastily with a forced laugh.
"This is great," Beckett observed, standing at the end of the Palace Pier. Girls in short skirts were walking around, chewing on candyfloss, the boys resplendent in their jackets and oiled down hair.
"Hey," Solo called out to him. "I think I've found her."
"Where?"
"The amusement hall," Napoleon said, as he reached the end of the pier to stand next to Beckett.
"How do you know it's her?" Beckett asked curiously.
"Simple," Napoleon said, with a trace of smugness. "One of the things I've learned in this business is that in a room full of women, the female THRUSH agent stands out as the most attractive one there."
"That's useful," Beckett observed. "And tempting, I imagine."
"Yes," Napoleon admitted with a sigh. "Illya is always reminding me to keep my mind on business, rather than pleasure. However, I see nothing wrong in mixing both occasionally."
"Absolutely," Beckett agreed. "So, what's she like?"
"She's along the second aisle on the left. She's a honeyed blond with a lime green dress, turquoise bow in her hair. About 5.8, blue eyes, slim waist, elegant legs - turquoise shoes with a green buckle, small turquoise purse, lipstick not quite baby pink, but not as strong as blushing pink and..."
"Bust size?" Becket asked out of interest.
"I'd say around..." Before Napoleon could finish a piece of pink candyfloss blew off a brunette's wooden stick and attached itself to his nose.
"I am so sorry," the owner of the candyfloss giggled apologetically. "Can I…?" She reached up a finger to lift it off.
"Well, I'm sure it's worth a slight sticky feeling to have your pretty finger running along the length of my..." Napoleon did not get to finish his sentence - again.
"You're an American?" the girl said admiringly.
"Why yes, I'm from..." This time Napoleon was interrupted by Beckett.
"You'll never guess where I'm from," Beckett invited the girl to guess.
"Not America," Miss Candyfloss was unerringly accurate.
"Could I please get to finish a sente...?"
"Not with my bird, you don't," said tall Adonis like man, with muscles that Hercules would have been proud of.
A seagull cackled with anticipation of fresh meat to feed on.
Illya and Ed sprinted through the farmyard and leapt over the fence with style. They continued running until they reached the jeep. They dived in.
"Drive, drive!" Ed yelled at Illya, who did not hesitate to floor the accelerator. Five miles down the road they began to relax.
Illya checked his rear-view mirror. "Nothing's following us," he reassured Ed.
"I thought we were goners there," Ed admitted.
Illya nodded, still keeping a careful eye on the road behind.
"If you hadn't shot that one in the front, they'd have got us for sure," Ed recalled."But I did," Illya said. "Next time though, we double check first."
"Agreed," Ed said firmly.
"I'm not walking into a shed of turkeys without any warning again," Illya pledged.
"Me neither," Ed agreed. "Mind you - I'm going to enjoy Christmas this year."
Becket leaned casually against the silver slot machine. The woman dropped in her penny and watched it fall between the plastic guides onto the metal sliding base. The extra coin forced half a dozen over the edge and they clinked down into the pocket for the woman to scoop out. She fed in another penny, but this time the sliding base just pushed it on top of the pile, adding to the collection in the machine.
"Bad luck," Beckett observed.
The woman spared him a quick glance. "You can't win them all," she said, adjusting the turquoise bow in her honeyed blond hair.
"Depends what game you're playing," Beckett said, with a wink.
The woman gave him a closer look, and he gave that half Beckett smile that women seemed to find so irresistible. "So, what game are you playing then?" She asked.
"No games today," Beckett told her, before adding: "Can I buy you a coffee?" He indicated the coffee bar at the far end of the amusements hall.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"Beckett."
"Just Beckett?"
"Just Beckett," he confirmed. "What's yours?"
She smiled, and held up one of the pennies. "Penny, Penny Poultry."
Beckett gave a quick grin. "I like it. Now, what about that coffee?"
"I just need to win back a few more pennies," the woman told him, slipping a bronze coin into the slot. "Damn," she muttered, as it was added to the pile. She raised her hand to push in another.
Beckett moved alongside her. "Allow me," he placed his hand over hers and guided it up to the slot. As he helped her pop the penny in, he swung his hip against the machine. A ledge of pennies slipped off their perch and clinked out of the machine.
The woman gave him an admiring smile. "I like your technique," she said, while gathering the pennies up.
Napoleon also liked Beckett's technique, but now it was his turn. He waited until Beckett had escorted Ms Poultry to the coffee bar and had her seated on one of the tall stools at the counter. Napoleon then sauntered up to where they were sat and leaned across the woman, brushing against her dress. "Excuse me," he muttered, as he reached for the coffee cup that was already there. He smiled that Napoleon smile at the vision in lime, and gave her a wink. "It's not as good as the coffee back home, but as it's better than nothing I daren't forget to drink it."
"Do you mind?" Beckett put his arm round Ms Poultry in a possessive manner.
"I was only saying..." Napoleon tried to explain.
"Well don't," Beckett advised. "Just take your coffee and go." He pushed the coffee cup towards Napoleon. Napoleon somehow managed to push it back and the cup spilt. For a moment it looked as though the lime dress was going to get a brown stain down the front, but at the last moment Napoleon pulled Ms Poultry out of the line of spilling, with the result that Beckett's white shirt ended up splattered with coffee.
"I'm so sorry," Napoleon apologised.
Beckett just glowered at him.
"Ma'am, are you alright?" Napoleon asked.
"Yes, thank you," Penny replied. "Oh but your coffee."
"Oh but my shirt," Beckett muttered, dabbing himself with a paper napkin.
"Never mind," Napoleon reassured her. "I can get another one. Perhaps you'd care to join me?"
Several cups of coffee later, Napoleon re-joined Beckett who was waiting at the car.
"I thought the plan was to spill coffee down Ms Poultry's dress - not my shirt!" He accused.
"It suddenly occurred to me, that if we spilt coffee on Penny's dress she would then have to change the dress," Napoleon explained. "Thus making the bug attached to her dress in the confusion slightly redundant, unless we were trying to locate a good dry-cleaners."
"I guess," Beckett said reluctantly. He changed the subject. "I noticed you use a wink to grab initial attention."
"Yes, I often find it useful. I did like your word play - just flirtatious enough without being obvious," Napoleon commented.
"Thanks, Napoleon," Beckett said. "Did you mange to plant the bug?"
"Oh, I'd nearly forgotten," Napoleon reached into the glove box and pulled out a small black receiver. He switched it on and pulled out the aerial. It emitted a low beep. "I attached it just under the collar at the back of her dress."
"Great, I managed to slip one in her handbag as well."
"So, now all we need to do is wait for her to make her move, then follow," Napoleon leant back in his seat, and made himself comfortable.
Beckett was watching the receiver, it suddenly emitted two beeps close together, and a red light began to flash. "Looks like she's making her move."
on to part 3
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