(Written as part of a challenge for Channel W)

Illya was sitting eating his breakfast in his apartment when he heard Napoleon honk his horn. Napoleon was giving him a lift into work today while his car was in the Uncle garage being repaired. Even though they lived in the same building, Illya always preferred to drive his own car into work. Napoleon was a notoriously bad driver, someone who wasn’t safe to be behind a wheel. Napoleon honked impatiently as Illya smeared more jam onto his toast. He looked longing at his toaster and then at his watch. He wondered if there would be time for another slice of toast. In the end he decided that there wasn’t enough time. He walked out of his building, eating his toast and straightening his jacket at the same time.

“What kept you?” Napoleon asked impatiently as Illya got into the car.

“I was having breakfast.” Napoleon leaned over and straightened the collar on Illya’s jacket.

“Mm, let me guess, strawberry jam and toast.”

“That’s right, how did you know?”

“You got some on your shirt,” he replied as he handed Illya a tissue.

“Thanks,” Illya said as he began wiping away the evidence of his breakfast.

They indulged in the usual bickering, as Napoleon drove them. Illya as usual was commenting on Napoleon’s driving and wasn’t really paying attention to the route they were taking. He did of course keep a lookout for any Thrushies, who may try to stop them getting in to work, but it was pure instinct. Napoleon was also using a combination of instinct and rote memory as he drove that morning. It came as a surprise to both of them when Napoleon stopped the car where Del Floria’s should be only to find that it wasn’t. The street was just the same as always, all the buildings were the same, except that now instead of Del Floria’s Tailor shop, Lloyd’s Pleasure Palace sat in its place.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you drive.”

“Illya I did not get us lost.”

“Okay let’s say you didn’t get us lost, where’s Del Floria’s?”

“Maybe there was a take over bid and Lloyd’s Pleasure Palace is now going to hide the Uncle headquarters.”

“You expect me to believe that Mr Waverly would decide to use a place like that as a cover?”

“Why not? I think it has a rather nice ring to it.” He was clearly enjoying the implications of what might happen inside.

“You would.” Illya replied agitated.

“Well you know what they say, a change is as good as a rest.”

Illya pulled out his communicator pen and spoke into it. “Open Channel D please.” He was answered by static.

“Come on Illya.”

“Where are you going?” Illya hissed as Napoleon made his way down the steps where Del Floria’s used to be.

“Well, it’s the only clue we’ve got Illya. We don’t know what’s going on, so we should at least see if the secret entrance is still there.”

“You mean you’re actually planning on going in there?”

“Illya we have to investigate.” He replied sounding much too jovial for Illya’s tastes.

“Is it really necessary for you to sound so pleased about it?”

“Can I help it if I enjoy my work?”

When they entered the shop, instead of finding someone called Lloyd, they discovered a rather buxom young lady. “Can I help you?” She purred, immediately catching Napoleon’s attention with her female allures.

“No thanks,” Illya answered for them both and started banging on the walls with his hands trying to find a door.

“What’s wrong with your friend?” She asked Napoleon.

“Oh er… he’s Russian.”

“You don’t happen to have a secret entrance back here, do you?” Illya asked hopeful.

“If you wanted to see the back room, you only had to ask. We have lots of young women waiting to make your acquaintance. We at Lloyd’s pleasure palace have only one wish, to make our guests very happy. You wish to see our back room?”

“It’s an improvement over Del Floria’s don’t you think?” Napoleon whispered to Illya when he walked up to them.

“I prefer the old place. Come on Napoleon, there are no clues here.”

“There might be some in the back room.”

“More likely a Thrush trap complete with big Thrush thugs.”

“I assure you all our women are very nice,” the woman spoke up after overhearing Illya’s comment.

“I’m sure they are,” Illya responded, in a tone which indicated he thought nothing of the sort.

“I’m afraid duty calls. Maybe I could call you later…” Napoleon began seductively.

“Napoleon, come on.” Illya said somewhat annoyed, and began dragging Napoleon away from the temptress.

As the two men left the shop, the temptress entered the back room, where she’d been trying to lure them.

“You’d better call them back in here, Miss er Gibbons,” Mr Waverly said as he filled his pipe, “we’ve already wasted enough time on this infernal experiment.”

“Was it a success, sir?”

“It failed to teach us anything we didn’t already know. Have someone remove that sign covering Del Floria’s and you’d better dispose of any other unnecessary bits of window dressing.” He replied indicating the various women’s undergarments he saw littered about the place.

“Yes sir.”

“Oh and tell Mr Solo and Mr Kuryakin, that I want to see them both, in my office, in half an hour.”

The End

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