The Locust Affair
by: RAC
Rated NC-17
E-MAIL ADDRESS: RAC_fic@yahoo.com
RATING: Probably R/NC-17 to be on the safe side. On second thought, definitely NC-17
PAIRING: IK/NS
DISCLAIMER: It all belongs to whoever the heck owns Man From Uncle now. And that's not me.
SUMMARY: THRUSH is trying to create a super bug. Yes, this is a preposterous THRUSH plot. Were there any other kind?
NOTES: Contains a character from The Project Strigas Affair, cuz I think there was just a bit of a slash moment between Mike Donfield (played by a very young and major cutie pie William Shatner) and Illya, when Mike thought he was dead. I thought it might be fun to play with that. But please note pairing above. Worry not.
Go visit all my stories at: http://www.dwordslist.net/rariindex.html
FEEDBACK: Absolutely.
THANKS: To Morr, my partner in crime! And thanks to Deb and Lee the T for beta assistance. And thanks to Dword for keeping such good care of all my stories.
The Locust Affair: Chapter 1
Illya and Napoleon surveyed what was left of the lab. All except one of the THRUSH personnel were dead or scattered. The one remaining live agent was still out cold from the sleep dart Napoleon had shot into his posterior. Napoleon prodded him with his toe while Illya attempted to make some sense out of the few files that hadn't been taken or destroyed. He scowled. "We should have gotten here faster. They had too much time to eliminate anything of value."
"A thousand apologies. I'll drop a note to THRUSH Central, asking them to leave their research satraps less heavily guarded in the future. I'm sure they'll be willing to oblige."
Illya shot his partner a quelling glance. Napoleon just grinned. He prodded the downed THRUSH agent again. "Maybe when this little bird wakes up he'll be anxious to sing."
Choosing not to respond, Illya continued his search. He opened drawers, checking both within and beneath for any secreted information. The last drawer stubbornly refused to open. He yanked on it to no avail. He pulled out his gun.
Napoleon snorted. "I hardly think that drawer deserves an untimely death."
Illya rolled his eyes and hammered on the drawer, using the butt of his gun, trying to loosen it.
"Tsk tsk. The Gunnery Chief isn't going to be happy about that."
"Perhaps you could stop heckling me and actually assist in the searching, Napoleon."
"What? And have you end up yelling at me for disturbing something essential? No thank you. I'll just sit here and keep our inert friend company until he deigns to rejoin the land of the living."
"He may not know anything." After a few seconds of looking as if he might actually shoot the drawer, Illya holstered his gun and started on another search.
"He's got a lab coat on. He's got to know something."
"Not necessarily. He may be a lab assistant, or a courier of sorts."
Napoleon gestured toward the drawer. "Would you just attend to your problem and let me attend to mine? I was perfectly happy dreaming my little dream of the glorious untapped knowledge lying at my feet."
Illya wandered across the lab out of Napoleon's sight and Napoleon heard the sound of something being snapped off. He looked up as Illya returned into his line of sight slapping something against the palm of his hand. The Russian walked back to the desk and crouched underneath it.
Napoleon tipped his chair back, using his feet to keep the chair balanced. "What's that?"
"The airfoil variable volume adjuster for the fume hood. I think I can use it as a screwdriver."
"Good thinking. I would have mentioned it but I knew you'd figure it out sooner or later." Napoleon grinned again at the scowl that elicited and let the chair drop back down on four legs. He watched as Illya started dismantling the desk. "What's so important about that drawer anyway?"
"It's stuck."
"I can see that. I'm not blind."
Illya shot him a look that clearly spoke otherwise. "If it was stuck when they were trying to get away, they might have left something important behind."
"So, why take the desk apart? Just use a torch and cut into the drawer. There must be a torch in a lab this large."
"I don't know what's in here, Napoleon. It could be explosives in which case a torch might be a bad idea, don't you?"
Napoleon sighed and then frowned as he watched Illya bite back a grin. Illya loved coming up with incontrovertible arguments. He knew it bothered Napoleon. This time was no different. "Fine, suit yourself."
"Thank you. I will."
Napoleon could see that it was not the best of screwdriver replacements as Illya winced when it dug into his palm, but it was apparently effective. After a few screws, the entire drawer assembly came loose and Illya shifted it out from under the desk. Sitting down, he began to work on the screws that would disassemble the individual drawers.
Illya glanced up at Napoleon just as he was toeing the agent again. Illya rolled his eyes. "Those sleep darts have been thoroughly researched, you know. He will sleep the requisite 48 minutes, regardless of how many times you jab him with your foot."
Napoleon looked at his watch. It had been 37 minutes. "Statistically speaking, to come up with an average recovery time, there must have been subjects who woke up faster."
"And slower."
"You are just determined to be a party pooper, aren't you?"
"A party pooper?" Illya turned to Napoleon, a puzzled look on his face. "A party pooper?"
Napoleon grinned in triumph. He loved catching Illya off guard with American slang. It didn't happen very often. "Yes, someone who tries to ruin a good time for everyone else. Party pooper. You, in this case."
Illya silently voiced the phrase again, as Napoleon watched, still grinning. Finally, Illya just shook his head and got back to work. Eleven minutes passed. Illya checked his watch. "Apparently this one is not one of the faster subjects." He was almost down to the final drawer, and was surrounded by flat pieces of wood and multiple screws.
Another few minutes went by. Napoleon noticed that Illya was now staring down at the contents of the final disassembled drawer, which seemed to be a locked metal box. "You need a lock pick?"
Illya shook his head. "Have one." He began to unbuckle his belt. Napoleon nodded, remembering that he often kept one there for occasions such as this. Illya could be a regular hardware store on occasion, despite the fact that he'd been caught sans screwdriver.
Napoleon looked down and saw that his problem was starting to stir. He pointed his gun at the agent, looking forward to providing a less than friendly welcoming. "Wakey, wakey."
Napoleon flashed a conspiratorial grin at Illya but was surprised to see a look of alarm cross his partner's face. Before he could ascertain what the cause was, Illya barreled into him, knocking him off his chair, rolling him away from the man on the floor.
Napoleon stared down at the younger agent who was now currently lying beneath him. "Illya, what the hell are you doing?"
Illya pointed and Napoleon followed the finger until they could both see the small amount of gas escaping from the man's mouth. "Cyanide. He must have had it in a tooth." Illya punctuated the remark with a smart tap against his own teeth with an index finger. "I saw him clench his jaw." They both watched, a bit unnerved, as the man started to convulse. Illya rolled off Napoleon.
Napoleon grimaced. "Cyanide? Why would a lab flunky…" Napoleon saw Illya flash him a warning glare and he amended his question. "Why would a worker in a lab, even a THRUSH lab, have cyanide gas in one of his teeth? That's a privilege usually reserved for THRUSH agents."
Illya glanced over at the small metal box he had found. "Maybe because he had no choice in the matter. Someone at THRUSH central could have placed it and then implanted a hypnotic suggestion to set it off if captured."
"They wouldn't have done that unless he was working on something really, really important."
Illya stood, and held out a hand to assist Napoleon up. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"You and me both, partner, you and me both."
Illya gave the now very dead agent on the floor a wide berth and picked up the metal container.
Napoleon's eyes swept the lab. "We need a full team to go over this lab with a fine toothed comb to make sure we haven't missed anything."
Illya nodded. "I'll take this back to my lab, like the good little flunky I am, and open it under more controlled circumstances."
Napoleon sent a mock sneer at his partner, and then he frowned. "Yeah, like with a gas mask."
*****
Sitting in Waverly's office, Napoleon frowned at the glass container he held in his hand. "It looks like a grasshopper. What is THRUSH doing with grasshoppers?"
Illya shook his head. "Not a grasshopper. A Schistocerca gregaria, a desert locust."
Napoleon let out a long suffering sigh. "Fine, then. A locust. My question remains. What is THRUSH doing with a locust? By the way, is locust singular and plural? Locusts? Loci?"
There was a harrumph from the head of the table. Napoleon put the glass container down. "Sorry, Sir. What was so important about this bug that they brainwashed one of their scientists into committing suicide rather than talk?"
"Napoleon, I'm surprised at you. Don't you know your Bible verses?"
The older agent sent Illya an annoyed glare. "I'm sure you're planning on enlightening me."
Illya's voice grew soft. "'By morning the wind brought the locusts; they invaded all of Egypt and settled down in every part of the country in huge numbers. Never had there been such a plague of locusts, and there never will be again. They covered the ground until it was black. They devoured everything growing in the fields and the fruit on the trees. Nothing green remained in all the land of Egypt.' Exodus, chapter 10."
Napoleon couldn't stop the shiver that went down his back at the vision the soft voice spoke of. He kept his voice purposefully light. "Do you know the entire Bible by heart?"
A quick glance and then Illya's eyes went back to the file in front of him. "There was nothing else to read."
Napoleon pursed his lips as he considered his partner. Illya hadn't said much but Napoleon could figure out the rest. In the labor camps. There hadn't been anything else to read in the labor camps. Where Illya had spent far too many years. Him and that photographic memory of his. He ran his hand down the lower half of his face. "That's the wrath of God, Illya, devastation of biblical proportions."
A wry smile formed on Illya's face. "Sounds like THRUSH presumption, doesn't it, to try a remake of one of the plagues of Egypt?"
"Are you saying that THRUSH plans to loose locusts on some unsuspecting cropland somewhere? Destroy some country's economy?"
Mr. Waverly tapped his pipe to empty it. "Yes, that is exactly what Mr. Kuryakin is saying. After piecing together all of the evidence left in the lab, coupled with the contents of the metal box Mr. Kuryakin found, it is clear that this is their plan. But not just any country. This country. A massive strike against America's farmlands."
Napoleon's eyes grew wide and then they darkened. "So how do we stop it?"
"That is your assignment. You and Mr. Kuryakin. You must stop this nefarious plan now, before it comes to fruition."
Napoleon's eyes rested on his partner. "Any ideas, Illya?"
"Yes. I was thinking that what we need is an expert in the field of bug extermination."
"Mike Donfield."
"Yes, Mike Donfield. It is also convenient that he already knows who we are, and he knows about UNCLE."
Napoleon nodded. "And we know that he's a pretty cool character under pressure." He glanced at Mr. Waverly. "I assume you've kept track of him?" Waverly seemed to keep track of everyone, on the off chance they might come in handy sometime.
"Yes. I've given the number to Mr. Kuryakin."
Illya glanced up at Napoleon. "We're meeting him in thirty minutes."
Napoleon made as if to stand but at the look in Waverly's eyes, he sat back down. Waverly fixed them both with a determined stare under his bushy brows. "I do not need to impress upon you gentlemen the importance of this mission. If enough of America's crops are destroyed it will throw this country into a depression, making it dependent on outside sources to feed its own citizens."
Napoleon scowled. "Making us a sitting duck for THRUSH to move in and throw this country into complete anarchy."
"Exactly. THRUSH must not be successful."
This time Napoleon and Illya both stood, the dismissal clear in Waverly's voice. Napoleon gave him a grim smile. "You can count on us, Sir."
"I am. We all are."
Exchanging a quick look with his partner, Illya picked up his file, gestured for Napoleon to pick up the entombed locust, and left the room, Napoleon directly behind him.
*****
Exactly thirty minutes later, the two agents were standing outside of a very respectable apartment building in the lower eastside. Illya looked at the slip of paper in his hand. "This is it."
Napoleon gestured for Illya to lead the way. Following behind, he noted the appalling lack of security. When Illya stopped in front of the indicated door, Napoleon rapped sharply.
In a few moments, he could hear footsteps, a brief pause as the peephole was used, and then the door was flung open. Mike grinned at them both. "Napoleon. Illya. Come on in."
Napoleon glanced around, instinctively looking for danger and for a secondary exit, and noted Illya doing the same. He saw that Mike was watching them both. Mike held his arms out to his side. "Need to search me, too? Want to see my ID?"
Illya actually looked like he was considering it. Napoleon intervened. "Not necessary, Mike. I think we can trust you." Although, Napoleon thought, something about the place was off.
"Well, that's a relief. Can I get you a drink?" He walked to the refrigerator and threw the door open. "Soda? Lemonade?"
Lemonade was agreed upon and after drinks were poured, they all settled around the small kitchen table, Illya directly across from Mike. Illya put on his glasses, settling the file in front of him. Mike looked at the two agents, his eyes alight with curiosity. "So, Illya didn't say much on the phone, what's this about?"
Napoleon finally figured out what was bothering him about the apartment. It was missing a woman's touch. "Where's Mrs. Donfield today?"
Mike let out a sigh. "She…well…she left me."
Napoleon's eyes widened. "Why? How could you let that delicious woman escape from your clutches?" Not that Napoleon had any desire to be in a committed relationship, let alone marriage, but the woman had certainly been beautiful.
Mike looked at his lemonade as if he wished it were something stronger. "Irreconcilable differences." He let out a strained laugh. Napoleon felt for the man.
Illya opened the file. "We need your help."
Mike put down his glass, looking at Illya. "I'm your man. Whatever you…" The second part of his sentence got lost as Illya took off his glasses and lifted his gaze.
Napoleon frowned as Mike seemed to just sit there, gaping at his partner. "Mike?"
Mike gave Illya a lopsided smile. "You have the most astonishing blue eyes. Has anyone ever told you that?"
Napoleon watched, amazed, as Illya actually blushed. He didn't think he'd ever seen Illya blush. He glanced at Mike, and saw that Mike was delighted with the reaction, and that he couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of Illya. That bothered Napoleon. He wasn't sure why, but it bothered him.
And Mike's compliment bothered him. He'd been around Illya's blue eyes a lot longer than Mike had. Not to mention that it was an odd thing for one man to say to another, no matter how blue Illya's eyes were. Realizing he'd gotten a bit off track with his thoughts, Napoleon glanced at Illya and decided to make it his fault. "Illya, the mission?"
Illya cleared his throat and looked down at the papers in front of him. "Right. We have information that THRUSH is trying to recreate the eighth plague."
"Locusts?"
It irritated Napoleon that Mike knew that. "Yes, locusts. We need your help in determining what sort of facility they'd need to breed them, to store them, and how we can kill them."
Mike leaned forward in his chair. "What do you know? Anything?"
Illya shook his head, scowling. "Not enough. We know they plan to attack America's farmlands. We've determined that it will be one of these areas." He pulled out a map, and noted the three areas covered in blue. "The Southeast, the Midwest, or California."
Mike whistled. "Any one of those will increase the price of tomatoes." He tapped Florida. "Or orange juice."
Out of his pocket, Illya pulled the glass cube they'd taken from the lab. "We know they plan to use these."
Mike considered the bug for a moment. "Schistocerca gregaria. Nasty piece of business when these decide to swarm." He rested the glass square on his open palm.
Napoleon tapped the glass with his finger. "Wrath of God?"
"That about sums it up. A single swarm can cover almost 500 square miles, and contain millions and millions of locusts. They can strip a field bare in hours."
Napoleon scrunched his face up. "So, by the time we find out about an attack, and get there with some defense, the damage will be done?"
Mike nodded. "There's a reason they still call it a plague of locusts. When a swarm attacks it can destroy every bit of vegetation in its path. There have been attacks all over the world by members of the Orthoptera group," he held up the bug, "to which this baby belongs. Africa, the Middle East, Asia, India, Mexico, even the United States. In the 1870's the Rocky Mountain area was inundated with a close cousin."
"How do you destroy them?"
"There's no good way. There's a lot of research going on, but other than a few pesticides and a new fungus theory, there's nothing that will destroy a swarm once it gets going. You need to stop them before they hatch, or when they're still hoppers. Once they can fly, they're out of control. Their procreation cycle is very short. From eggs to egg-laying adult is less than three months."
Illya exchanged a worried glance with Napoleon. "Let us hope that THRUSH has just started this project."
Napoleon nodded. "So, how do you destroy the eggs, or the hoppers?"
Illya answered that one. "Burning. Burning works best." He glanced up at Mike. "Right?"
Mike nodded. "Right. It's better than pesticides, especially the pesticides they currently have because they're already proving to be fairly unhealthy for everything else in the food chain, including humans."
Napoleon glanced at Illya. "I understand why he knows that, but why do you know that?"
"I read it once."
Napoleon liked to play this game. Illya's sources never failed to amuse him. "Where exactly?"
"In a book."
"What sort of book?"
Illya scowled at Napoleon. "Does it matter?"
"It might. There might be more information we can glean from this book of yours."
"I doubt it. It was a book on ancient Chinese agriculture."
"And why, Illya, were you reading a book on ancient Chinese agriculture?"
"It was the only book in Chinese the used book store had, and I was trying to learn how to read it."
Napoleon barked out a laugh. "You were learning to read Chinese with a book on Chinese agriculture?"
"I told you, it was the only book they had."
Mike was staring at Illya in amazement. "You can read Chinese?"
Illya nodded and tried to move on by making a vague gesture at the papers in front of him. Napoleon was not done teasing his brilliant partner. "Oh, he can read and speak close to a dozen languages, can't you, tovarisch?"
"Napoleon, can we get back to the mission, please?"
That sobered Napoleon up. "Of course." He had to get in one last dig. "Anything else in this book of yours that might be useful in combating locusts?"
Illya rolled his eyes and there was a touch of defiance in his voice. "Just that the author felt that nighttime was best, and stressed that there be moonlight."
Napoleon grinned. "Moonlight." He tapped his index finger against his lips and nodded. "We'll need an almanac then."
Illya swatted him on the arm.
Napoleon glanced at Mike, wanting to share the joke, but Mike was busy watching Illya, a delighted smile on his face.
"You speak 12 languages?" The look of admiration on Mike's face was almost fawning.
Illya blushed again and then he cleared his throat. "Could we get back to locusts, please?"
Mike sat forward. "Did you know that in Kansas, in 1877, they passed The Grasshopper Army Act? It required all able-bodied males between the ages of 12 to 65 to assemble for the purpose of fighting locusts whenever ordered to do so by town officials. You could be fined three dollars a day if you refused."
Napoleon was sure that Illya would have something equally inane to contribute and he wasn't disappointed as Illya joined right in. "Did you know that Mexico printed a locust stamp which everyone was forced to buy as additional postage anytime they wanted to mail anything, to help raise money to kill locusts?"
Mike grinned, clearly enjoying the information exchange. "Did you know that Missouri and Minnesota had Locust bounties? They paid money for bushels of eggs and nymphs, and for a while, locust eggs were actually used as currency."
Napoleon rapped on the table. He was feeling left out. "How do you both know all this stuff? Don't your heads hurt with all this useless information rattling around in there? If we're going to talk trivia could we pick a different topic?"
Mike stood up and retrieved the lemonade pitcher from the refrigerator. "Sure, pick a topic, any topic."
Napoleon went with his favorite. "How about women?"
Illya held out his glass and shared a look with Mike. "Napoleon is an expert on women."
Mike shivered. "You can have them." He finished filling Illya's glass, added a bit to Napoleon's and then placed the pitcher on the counter. Sitting back down he caught Illya's eye. "I'm through with women."
Napoleon was about to thoroughly harangue Mike for his blasphemous words when he caught the look Mike was giving Illya, and there was a flash of something in Mike's eyes as he looked that rose the hairs on the back of Napoleon's neck. He glanced at Illya and watched him fumble with his papers, blushing again, looking…Napoleon searched for a word…looking flustered. Flustered? Illya flustered? The only thing that flustered Illya was when a pretty woman tried to corner him. Napoleon looked at Mike suspiciously.
Then, he shook off his ridiculous thoughts and got back to the business at hand. "What would they need to breed these things? What should we be looking for?"
Mike thought for a moment. "Generally, it's lack of water that triggers an explosion of growth. If they were dependent on the real thing I'd say they'd be more inclined to stick with the Midwest because it's been pretty dry lately. But I suppose an artificial environment could be built that would achieve the same thing. With enough money, that is. Does THRUSH have lots of money?"
Napoleon nodded glumly. "Lots and lots of money."
Illya was looking at the map. "Could they seed the area with eggs? Or…what did you call them…hoppers, would they need to be hoppers?"
"If they want to do immediate damage over a widespread area, and fast, they'd need at least hoppers, but hoppers can't travel far, so they'd have to lay them out everywhere."
"The only way they could do that would be by air, and an air strike of that magnitude would get picked up by radar. That can't be what they're planning." Illya thought hard, playing with his lower lip.
Napoleon caught Mike staring at Illya again. He frowned. "Mike." He had to call his name again. "Mike."
Mike looked at Napoleon. "What?"
"How much space would they need to keep all those bugs?"
Mike looked at the map and shook his head. "I think they'd need a bunch of places, big places. Places near to where the crops are."
Napoleon pursed his lips. "So they could just open the door and shoo them out?"
"Yeah. I mean, how could they transport them? Eggs sure, even hoppers, but the fully grown winged locust, millions of them?" Mike shook his head again. "They'd need a thousand cargo planes, or a truck convoy miles long, and it's not like you can exactly herd them onto a vehicle."
Napoleon pulled out his communicator. He made the necessary adjustments and a woman's voice came on. "Yes, Napoleon." She almost purred.
"Ah, Lisa. Just the woman I was wishing for."
There was a short sultry laugh. Illya rolled his eyes and glanced at Mike, who winked at him.
Napoleon saw it. He saw the wink. It wasn't so much the wink that bothered him, it was the smile Illya gave Mike. Illya never smiled at him when he winked. All he ever got was a scowl.
"Napoleon, are you there?"
Napoleon put his attention back on the communicator. "Yes, Lisa. I need you to arrange for reconnaissance planes to take a continuous sequence of pictures over the hot spots indicated on the map numbered…" He snapped his fingers in Illya's direction.
Illya looked at the bottom right of the map. "125 Tango Foxtrot."
"Map numbered 125 Tango Foxtrot, as soon as humanly possible."
"I'll get right on that, Napoleon. Anything else?"
Illya reached for the communicator. "This is Illya. Have the main computers run a search for any new large buildings or factories built within the last year that lay within the boundaries or along the outskirts of those hot spots." He began to hand the communicator back to Napoleon but then changed his mind and spoke into it again. "Have them search for any buildings that have been enlarged as well. They'll need to check against old reconnaissance photos."
He almost handed it back again, but then changed his mind one more time. Napoleon rolled his eyes. "You do have your own you know."
Illya scowled at him and told Lisa to hang on. "Mike, what would THRUSH use to breed locusts? Would they be able to purchase that many eggs? What supplies would they need?"
"The only reason anyone would breed locusts is to use them as live food for turtles, and large lizards. All you need is a dry atmosphere, and your typical bug grub. Bran, calcium, a few minerals. You could also use stuff like cornflakes. But I still don't know where they'd buy enough eggs to do this sort of damage." He tapped the map. "There aren't that many lizards in the world to feed."
Illya shook his head, scowling. "This operation is too huge, even for THRUSH. The timing alone would be a nightmare, attempting to have all those locusts available at a certain time, and then getting them to the crops and releasing them. There's got to be something we're missing."
"Hello? Illya, Napoleon?" A woman's voice called out, startling Illya. He almost dropped the communicator.
Napoleon stood, snatching the communicator out of Illya's hand. "Sorry, Lisa. When Illya has something to say he'll call you back, on his own communicator. Just be a dear and take care of those requests."
"Already done. I took care of it while I was waiting."
"You, Lisa, are a dream."
There was a small giggle, then a sigh. "Does all this activity mean you're going to cancel our date for tonight?"
Napoleon put a hand over his heart. "You cut me to the quick. Far be it from me to disappoint a lady." There was a brief pause as Napoleon reconsidered. "When will those reconnaissance pictures be available?"
"The ones from the east coast won't be available until 8:00 am at the earliest."
"Then, lovely lady, I shall be at your home at 8:00 this evening."
"All right. See you then." She was purring again.
Napoleon closed down his communicator and let out a satisfied sigh. He looked up to see Illya watching Mike as Mike was giving the glass-encased locust a thorough scrutiny. He moved over to the table. "What is it?"
Mike shook his head. "I don't know. Something about this critter just doesn't look right." He held it out to Illya. "Did you put it in this glass?"
"No. I found it that way."
Napoleon grimaced as he looked at the bug. "What doesn't look right?" He squinted his eyes. "How can you tell?"
Mike brought it closer to his eyes, and shrugged. "I just know something's not right but I'm not sure what it is. I need to go to my lab, and dissect it." He glanced at the two agents. "Can I do that?"
Illya looked at the main piece of evidence sitting in Mike's palm. "If you think it necessary."
Napoleon nodded, supporting Mike's plan. "We need all the information we can get our hands on." He leaned forward and plucked the cube from Mike's hand. "Is it the critter you thought it was? That Schizo thing?"
Mike grinned. "Schistocerca gregoria. You know how it got its name?" At the two negative head shakes, he continued. "It has two phases, almost a split personality. In one phase, it's reclusive and solitary, does everything it can to avoid coming in contact with another of its kind. But it has an alter ego, when the locust population starts growing, where it becomes more social, more tolerant of others, or gregarious. Schistocerca gregoria."
Napoleon grinned at Illya, a twinkle in his eye. "That first phase sort of reminds me of someone. Think you have an alter ego, too?"
"Not if it means I have to become more tolerant of you."
Napoleon snorted. "Well, it sounds like you'll be using your mad scientist alter ego tonight." He scrunched his face up. "Do you, ah, need my help?" He hoped the answer was no.
Illya gave Napoleon a wry smile. "Far be it from me to force you to disappoint a lady."
"I can cancel. I will if you need my help." He meant it. A mission always came first.
Illya shook his head. "I think in this case, I will be assisting him." His head cocked toward Mike. "Will I be sufficient assistance?"
Mike smiled slowly. "Yes, I think you'll be just what I need."
Napoleon frowned.
Mike wasn't done. "Seeing as Napoleon is planning on a little relaxation tonight, maybe when we're done we can go get a drink, and listen to some jazz. There's a little club around the corner from my lab."
Illya's eyes lit up. Napoleon frowned again. He waited for Illya to say no. Illya always said no whenever he was invited anywhere, unless Napoleon was the one inviting him.
But, Napoleon didn't hear a no. What he heard, instead, was Mike acting as if what he'd heard was a yes. "Great, then let's get going. We've got a bug to dissect, a world to save, and we have to do it fast enough to get a good table and an even better martini."
The idea of a martini appealed to Napoleon, but a lovely woman waited. He stood. "Nice to know you have your priorities straight." He poked Illya in the shoulder. "Call me if you find anything important." He looked at his watch, trying to figure out if he had time to go home before he had to leave to pick up Lisa. He decided he did, if he left right away. "By the way, where is this musical club of yours in case my evening ends early?" He couldn't imagine it would, but one never knew.
Mike seemed to hesitate. "It's just a hole in the wall."
"What's the name?"
Another hesitation. "Donovan's."
Napoleon pursed his lips. "Never heard of it."
"Yeah, well, like I said, it's just a hole in the wall. But they have good jazz."
Napoleon didn't like that Mike wasn't telling him where the club was. It was as if he didn't want Napoleon to join them. And Illya wasn't exactly forcing the information out of him.
Illya started gathering up the file. "I don't know if we'll get there tonight. We might be in the lab for a while. Just call me on my communicator if you need to check in."
That worked for Napoleon. Once Illya got in a lab, it usually took a stick of dynamite to get him out. He shrugged into his coat. "Well, play nice, boys." As he left he just caught Illya's startled glance and Mike's grin. He was frowning as he got into his car.