by LRH Balzer
The older child had no intention of moving, despite Del Floria's towering presence. "NO!!" the boy yelled, stamping his feet in frustration. "Why don't you listen to me?!" he continued in Italian, dark eyes flashing as he looked up at the old man. With a quick dash, he darted around the tailor, pulling the toddler after him into a changing cubicle.
Waverly had seen enough, turning in his chair to his assistant. "I don't see what this has to do with me, Miss McNabb. Have someone check the street outside; the boys' mothers are probably looking for them." He dismissed her with a shake of his head and turned back to his paperwork.
"Sir?" McNabb was still staring at the monitor. "Ah... you better look at this…"
Waverly glanced over his shoulder, then slowly spun around. "What the --?"
The dark-haired little boy was trying to lift the toddler in the air, telling him to turn the hook. Unfortunately for them, they were about two feet too short in reach.
Del Floria ripped open the cubicle curtain. "Get out of here, now. Outside -- both of you!!"
Too young to understand what was going on, the toddler's big eyes brimmed with tears at the yelling, a big sniff threatening to erupt into a sob. The other child, several years his senior, put him down and patted the top of the blond head. "It's okay. He's not mad at you." In Italian, he said to Del Floria, "He has to go to the bathroom and he's not too good about holding it yet. Can he use the one in the secret place? It's not too far. I know where it is and we won't take long. Please?"
"Mother of Mercy..." Del Floria muttered, and glanced up at the security camera desperately. "If someone else comes in here --? What am I to do?" he whispered to the unseen agents he knew were watching.
Waverly was wondering the same thing. How in heaven's name did the little boy know about the hidden entrance? Or that there would be a rest room there? To McNabb, he ordered, "Go let them in and see to it that someone finds out who their parents are. They must belong to one of our employees."
He had a grandson of his own about the same age as the toddler and remembered they had to have their new living room couch shampooed recently after an 'accident.' "See to it the little one visits the rest room promptly."
* * *
He thought nothing more of it for half an hour, until Heather McNabb once again appeared in his office.
"Sir?"
He looked up and groaned. She wasn't alone. "What are they doing here? Not in my office."
McNabb was defiant. "We don't know who their parents are. No one has ever seen them before and they won't say who they are. Do you expect us to just put them out on the street?"
"Yes. No. Have someone take them to the local police station. This is utter nonsense; I don't have time for such matters." Waverly gestured to the foot high pile of files on his desk. "I have crucial documents here that must be dealt with."
The dark-haired little boy left his companion, who was passively holding Heather's hand, and wandered over to his desk. "Stuff like Osaka," he said absently, playing with the globe and setting it spinning wildly.
Waverly stopped it and glared down at him. "What do you mean, Osaka?"
"Your papers got Osaka stuff in them." The boy turned to the toddler. "Come here and see the big world ball. It's got lots of colors."
The little one stared at him from across the room, blue eyes threatening to cry, and he held tighter to McNabb's hand.
The older boy sighed and looked back to Waverly's stunned face.
"Sometimes he just doesn't listen to me. You know how it is," he whispered with a confidential nod.
"What do you know about Osaka?" Waverly demanded after confirming the file lay buried beneath several others and there was no way the child could have seen it. Or heard about it, for that matter, since it was a highly secret case, known about by only a top few operators. If this boy was a child of one of them - the security leak was serious. There was no way a young child should know about the horrors on the vessel, let alone be able to pass that information on innocently.
He motioned McNabb over, saying in a quiet voice, "I think we'd better keep them here for now. Have security section print a picture of the two from their surveillance film and send that on down to the police station."
"Yes, sir." The toddler in tow, McNabb went to a second phone and made the call.
"What do you know about Osaka?" Waverly repeated to the older boy who was over by the far wall, exploring.
"It's the biggest boat in the whole world, but that's not the secret thing. I'm not allowed to tell that... I'm hungry. Do you gots any food here?" the boy asked, looking around the office. He was still roaming, thoroughly at home in the austere office. Much to Waverly's alarm, he expertly tripped open the console cabinet containing his confidential files as he poked curiously at every drawer and cupboard and picked up every ashtray or vase. "I'm bored," he sighed, momentarily dejected after completing his circuit of the room and ending up in front of Waverly again. He leaned one elbow on the desk and eagerly reached with his other hand for the U.N.C.L.E. chief's prized pipe. "And hungry. Mostly hungry."
Finding his tongue, Waverly rasped out, "Get some sandwiches for them, Miss McNabb." He snatched his pipe back and locked it in a desk drawer.
"And milk?" the little boy asked hopefully, his face brightening.
"And milk."
Poking his thumb in the toddler's direction, the child added, "He needs a bottle."
"We'll get one, sir. From somewhere," McNabb put in quickly. "I think the commissary can come up with some peanut butter sandwiches." She detangled her fingers from her small charge and left before Waverly could add anything.
Summoning all his grandfatherly skills, Alexander Waverly grabbed hold of the older boy's hand and guided him over to the couch by the window.
"Sit down here quietly and wait for Miss McNabb to bring your lunch." The toddler padded over to them, walking awkwardly in his yellow rain boots, and the UNCLE Chief lifted the little one up and set him on the couch next to his friend.
Waverly crouched down in front of them, wincing at the pain in one knee as he looked from one to the other. "Who are you? What are your names?"
"Papa calls me Sonny and this is my friend." It sounded more like 'fwend' when he said it.
"What is your last name?"
Sonny shrugged. "Don't know."
"Are you brothers?"
The boy looked at him puzzled at the question. "I tolded you before. He's my fwend."
"Do you know your telephone number?"
"Nope."
"Where do you live? What's your address?"
"It's a big place with lots of windows."
"Is it close to here?" Waverly asked optimistically.
"I don't think so. I couldn't find it. Then I 'membered here."
"Were you here before?"
"Yeah. When does our food come?"
"Soon. Who told you about Osaka?" Waverly persisted. "Does your father or mother work here?"
"I just knowed it."
"Where were you before you came here? Were you with your mother?"
The boy thought carefully. "We was walking."
"Where were you walking?"
"Outside. We saw all the flags. Lots of flags."
The United Nations Building. "Were you by yourselves when you were at the flags?"
The boy nodded. "We woke up outside a loud noise place. There was a big hole and we watched the trucks."
"You were sleeping outside?"
"Just a little while, I think. Mister, I'm wondering about the food. Is soon a long time?"
Waverly fished in his pocket and found a scotch mint. "Here. Have this. Miss McNabb will be back soon -- in a little while," he amended, standing.
The little toddler saw the mint in the older boy's hand and reached for it and a squabble ensued until Sonny popped the mint in his mouth. The toddler screamed, heartbroken.
Sonny looked up, a little guiltily. "Do you gots another one for him?"
Waverly shook his head we
arily as the child sobbed, then finally picked him up and set him on his lap, trying to calm the distressed tyke.
A delivery boy from the commissary appeared with the sandwiches, some cookies, a glass of milk, and -- mercifully -- a warmed baby bottle. It took Waverly some time to calm the toddler down enough to take the bottle, but once the little one realized what it was, he quietened down instantly.
Waverly set him back on the couch, relieved the boy could hold the bottle by himself and he would not have to waste his time with that. The papers on his desk had to be done.
He retreated to his own chair and applied himself to his documents and the inevitable phone calls, glancing up now and again to check the progress on the lunch. He got up once and claimed the plate of cookies until they had eaten the sandwiches. The last of the cookies were gone when another skirmish broke out -- over what, he couldn't tell -- but the toddler ended up screaming again.
A few harsh words from Waverly left the older boy pouting. "Not my fault. He poked me first."
The U.N.C.L.E. chief returned to his desk and settled the sobbing toddler on his lap. "Hush now!" he said impatiently. The sobs died down until the child fell asleep. A quick glance over to the couch showed the older boy had curled up and was almost asleep, his eyes heavy.
Heather McNabb entered finally, nearly a half hour later. "The Security department is having some trouble with the tape. The pictures are not developing properly. There seems to be some sort of interference that is affecting the recording tape."
Figures. Waverly sighed, ignoring McNabb's fight to keep the smile off her face at the sight of him holding the sleeping toddler. "Any news of Solo and Kuryakin?"
"No, sir. We're still trying to contact them. When they last checked in, they were a block or so north of the U.N. complex."
"These boys were by the U.N. They stopped to look at the flags before they came here."
McNabb went still. Only her eyes moved as she glanced from the dark-haired boy sleeping on the couch, to the blond toddler nestled securely in the crook of Waverly's left arm. "You know who they look like?"
Waverly shook his head and she continued, almost reluctantly.
"Imagine Napoleon and Illya about twenty-five years ago." Waverly met her eyes evenly. "What are you suggesting?"
"Nothing... Sir, did they mention any other place besides the U.N. building?"
"Sonny said they woke up in front of a 'loud noise' building. There was a big hole nearby and trucks. What are you suggesting?" he repeated.
"Would you object to me having someone check to see if such a place exists. We may find their mothers or maybe even..."
He didn't make her say it. Waverly carefully stood up and deposited the sleeping toddler with his friend. "I'll issue the directives myself." They left the boys to sleep and Waverly went down to the Enforcement Agents' main office to give the orders for McNabb and the backup team.
* * *
He was still hovering in Communications when the call came through from McNabb.
"We've got Solo and Kuryakin, sir!" she exclaimed. "They were tied up at the back of a machinery shop near a construction site. They were unconscious when we found them, but are fine now; they want to walk back to clear their heads -- they were drugged with something to knock them out -- and two of the medics have agreed to escort them. They should be there in fifteen or twenty minutes."
"Excellent work, Miss McNabb. Any sign of whoever did this to them?"
"None as yet. The backup team is investigating, but Napoleon and Illya say they never knew what hit them."
"Any sign of... ?"
"No mothers, sir. We've asked around and no one is missing two little boys."
"Return here at once then. I'll have you take the boys to the police station and we'll let them deal with the problem. It's certainly out of our jurisdiction."
* * *
A second before the doors to his office slid open, the thought occurred to Waverly and in that brief moment of time he wondered if... The door opened and, as he had feared, the office was empty. Except for a few cookie crumbs littering the couch.
When McNabb came in, she looked around, picked up the commissary dishes, then left without a word.
Almost a half hour later, Solo and Kuryakin entered and dropped onto the couch, exhausted. Solo leaned back with his head against the wall and groaned loudly. "My head feels like a jackhammer is attacking from the inside. My mouth still feels like I've been eating dust."
Kuryakin nodded in agreement, then poked Solo. "Where is it?"
"What? Don't poke me. I'm tired."
"And I'm not? The mint. Where is it?" Kuryakin poked again and Solo swatted at him. "Hey!" the Russian yelled. "Stop it. You said you'd give me a mint when we got back here. We're here."
"I said I'd get you a mint when we got back here." Solo turned to Waverly, who was watching them, his face rather ashen. "Do you still have those mints, sir? Whatever they drugged us with left a bad taste in my mouth."
Waverly sat down very carefully at his desk and lay one hand alongside his cheek. "No."
The two men gave their brief report and left. Alexander Waverly immediately called down to Personnel and put in for an unprecedented week long leave of absence and then decided to go home early that night.
My wife is right. I need a vacation.
* * *
[1] Episode #16, The Fiddlesticks Affair, written by Aben Kandel & Peter Allan Fields.
[2] Episode #16, The Fiddlesticks Affair, written by Aben Kandel & Peter Allan Fields.
[3] Episode #22, The See Paris and Die Affair, written by Peter Allan Fields and Sheldon Stark.
[4] GRU - The Chief Intelligence Directorate (The Military Intelligence Organization of the U.S.S.R.)
[5] The Committee of State Security (U.S.S.R.)
[6] The Dutch Blitz Affair, by L.R.H. Balzer
Table of Contents
The 'It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time' Affair
The Affair
The Pelyonki Affair
The Little Boys Lost Affair