The UNCLE Wives Club

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                             L'Affaire De Shotgun - Part 4

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We are living in a Material World . . .
And I am a Material Girl

A little while later, Sir John was in the doorway of his office, showing the entourage in. "I regret the circumstances of this meeting," he tried his best to explain as the foursome walked in and took seats at the long table in front of the desk. "But under these conditions, I'm afraid it couldn't be helped." He took his seat behind the desk. "Can I get anyone anything?" he asked, trying to be polite, but inside, he was still somewhat chafed over Lynda and Brenda's notorious stunt.

 

From one end of the table to the other, everyone shook their heads. Napoleon cleared his throat and asked "Have you found out anything new on this affair?"

 

"Unfortunately, we're still trying to locate Larry," Sir John answered ruefully, shaking his head.

 

Lynda leaned over and asked Napoleon "I thought you told me Larry and Travers were going to meet us here?"

 

"I didn't want you to worry," he replied, gently squeezing her hand.

 

"I hope you two aren't going to embarrass UNCLE any more than you already have," Sir John pointedly remarked to the girls.  He leaned forward in his seat and leaned over the table. "We need to know this, girls, but which one of you has the password to Leprechaun?"

 

Brenda and Lynda looked at each other and shrugged. "We're not sure," Brenda reluctantly admitted, still in puzzlement over the entire situation.  “I think Einstein over there used it last time.”

 

Lynda sat there, acting strangely quiet.  She had a bunch of thoughts running through her head, but wouldn’t fill anyone in on them at all. After a few minutes, she let out a yawn and stretched her arms.  “Can we go yet?  I think I’m about to turn into a pumpkin,” she moaned.

 

"Could it be possible that someone else could have figured out how to change the password?" Illya asked, trying to explore and rule out every possible scenario.

 

"No," Brenda replied.  She looked over at Lynda and admitted "I put in another program a couple of weeks ago to change the password, which needs a password in order to change the original one that lets the user into the money transfer part. But the way it resulted, you have to have a password to use the original password to transfer anything."

 

Lynda shook her head. "You know, if you had a brain, it'd die of loneliness,” she yawned.

 

"Would anyone else know the passwords, then?" Sir John inquired.

 

"No. Nobody else. Just me.”

 

"Would you know where he is right now? I think it might be prudent, considering everyone's past history with THRUSH, that he be under protection as well."

 

Lynda answered "He's gone beaver hunting down in Myrtle Beach."

 

The room broke out in uproarious laughter as she made that statement with a perfectly straight face. Illya and Sir John looked confused. Finally, as everyone settled down, Illya unknowingly stuck his head in the lion's mouth by commenting "I didn't realize there were beaver in South Carolina."

 

Lynda laughed so hard, the tears were coming from her face and she had to remove her glasses to wipe her eyes. Napoleon offered her a handkerchief. Turning his attention back to his former partner, he grinned. "That's not the kind of beaver hunt he's on," he answered. "That's her way of saying he's in Myrtle Beach."

 

"What's in Myrtle Beach?" Sir John asked.

 

"Cha-Cha's," Napoleon answered. "She's an old friend of the family."

 

Brenda shocked Illya and Sir John by saying "He's hiding out in a whorehouse, ya'll."

 

"We really should be bringing him in," Sir John continued, unfazed by the remarks swirling around him.

 

Napoleon and Illya looked at each other from across the table and instantly knew what the other was thinking. Napoleon raised his eyebrows and Illya nodded silently. Then, Napoleon turned back to his uncle-in-law and had a plan of sorts. "I've tried to reason with Jacques earlier but he was totally against the idea of being put 'on ice'. So, I think the best way to get him into the fold would be to do it in a manner which would not throw any suspicion on us."

 

Lynda looked at him and asked, "Just what do you have up your sleeve?"

 

He grimaced. "Are you sure you want to hear this?"

 

"I think I need to go to the ladies' room," she answered quietly.  She gathered up her train and managed to rise from her seat.

 

"Do you need some help with the dress?" he offered.

 

She shook her head. "No," she answered, smiling at him. "I'll be fine." She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. "Be back in a minute."

 

Brenda, meanwhile, got up from her seat. "I think I'll go with you," she said. Winking at Illya, she smiled and in a flash, she was out the door with her sister.

 

 A little bit later, the girls came out of the restroom to find a couple of guys in shirt sleeves wearing guns on their shoulders and staring at her. "Hi," she called out. "Guess you're wondering why I'm dressed like this, aren't you?" she asked as she cautiously approached them.

 

"Lynda!" her sister hissed angrily. "What are you doing?"

 

"Oh," she answered, looking back. "I just thought these two cutie-pies could tell us how to get back to Sir John's office." She looked at them and flashed a smile.

 

They looked at each other and one of them asked the other. "Are those the two who-"

 

The other one nodded. "Yep," he answered, backing away slowly. "I don't know about you, but I'm not going near them," he whispered. The girls motioned for them to come closer, but the first one started backing up along with his associate and they both pleaded "Please, please have mercy on us," the first one begged.

 

"Don't kill us," the second one pleaded. "We'll do anything you ask, but don't harm us." He sunk to his knees and clasped his hands together in rather melodramatic fashion. Tears were running from his eyes and his face was tortured as he continued to grovel and pray.  "Our Lord, who art thou in heaven, hallowed be thy name . . ."

 

Both girls looked at each other, puzzled by their reaction for a brief second before bursting out in laughter. "Oh my God," Brenda exclaimed. "They think we're going to torture them sexually!!"

 

"But I'm not in the mood - for them," Lynda winked.

 

The guys looked at each other and asked "They're not going to ask us for our clothes?" in unison.

 

"Not quite, no." She smiled again. "It's a long story and I wouldn't want to bore you two with it. Could you point me in the direction of Mr. Raleigh's office, please?"

 

He pointed. "Go down that way and turn right. Go through the first doorway and take another left." He trembled in his shoes and his eyes almost bulged out of the sockets.

 

"Thank you so much," she said, batting her eyes at him before she took off down the hall, with Brenda following.

 

A few minutes later, they walked through an electronic door and found themselves in a huge room containing exotic weaponry and a couple of people wandering about in blue jumpsuits, carrying clipboards and appearing to be taking inventory. "I don't remember this room," Lynda remarked. "I told you we should've took that left turn at Albuquerque.  Like, totally."

 

"Me?" Brenda almost screeched. "I was following you, remember? What have you got us into now?"

 

"Nothing, yet."

 

Brenda followed her over to a table and saw some guns and ammo scattered about. "That always seems to be the key word: yet."

 

Lynda was cradling a .357 Magnum in her hands. Examining it closely, she critiqued "I would expect a top secret organization like UNCLE to have better equipment than this. This looks like standard police issue." She opened it to find it already loaded with a specially modified bullet. "What's this?" She closed the chamber and aimed at the back wall and before Brenda could open her mouth to stop her, the gun discharged, taking out the entire back wall with such force that the alarms immediately went off.

 

Brenda's mouth fell open in shock and horror. "What the hell did you do that for?"

 

Lynda looked at her and simply said "Oops."

 

"Oops?" Brenda asked, her temper almost boiling over. "THAT'S ALL YOU CAN SAY IS OOPS?" she screamed.

 

"There's no need to shout!" Lynda barked. "I didn't know it packed that kind of a punch, that's all." She saw Brenda was unmoved. "It was as accident."

 

Everyone rushed over, guns drawn and completely surrounded them.  Alarms were going off at a deafening level and chaos ensued.  Brenda didn’t pay any attention as she barked back at her sister “I’m surprised you didn’t use that excuse when Mama Jackie found out that you were pregnant!”

 

A tall, severe looking brunette with glasses stormed in, asking, "Just what the hell are you kids doing in here?" She recognized them immediately and froze in her tracks. "Jesus Christ!" she exclaimed. "Who in God's name brought you two hellions in here?"

 

"You know,” Brenda started.  “Ya’ll really need to update your security procedures.  I mean, look around here.  You’ve got so many gadgets and whatnot and the way that your setup is, anybody can just, like totally, walk in here and help themselves to whatever they want.” 

 

"I don't think we've met, have we?" Lynda came back to reality and flashed a smile. "You see, we're a couple of lost sheep. Could you show us the way to Sir John’s office?"

 

 "Who are you kids?" she demanded to know.  “Did the two of you escape from an insane asylum?”

 

"Kids?" Lynda asked, shocked. "I beg your pardon," she demanded, her voice rising. "Get that gun away from me!" She waved her hand. “Like,totally gag me.  Just so you’ll know, I was the state marksman champion for the last 2 years running – high school division.” 

 

Brenda finally noticed all the guns pointed at them and looked over at Lynda, totally upset at this.  “Do you have any idea of what’s going on here?”

 

“Of course I do,” she answered, laughing.  “I can’t think of a better way to get the men to beat a path to your door.”

 

"I'm gonna kill you, Lynda Josephine DeBeauharnais-Solo, if it's the last thing I do," she hissed.  To the guys, she babbled on “You know, if I were in charge of security, I’d be updating the alarms, get rid of those x-ray scanner thingies.  Like, totally.  I mean, come on, X-rays are harmful for cryin’ out loud.  Lasers are the way to go . . . . . “ She rattled on and on, not stopping to draw a breath.

 

Lynda tossed her head back and laughed.  “I would introduce ourselves here, but it appears everyone here already knows who we are.”

 

“No, we don’t,” Brenda giggled.  “We’re more famous than Madonna.  We’re the original material girls.”

 

Sir John entered the room behind Napoleon and Illya, asking, "What in the Bloody Hell is going on here?"

 

Napoleon, meanwhile, had pushed his way through and found the source of the commotion. He quickly swooped the bride into his arms and asked, "Are you alright?"

 

"I'm fine," she answered. "I don't know quite what happened. We asked for directions after we came out of the restroom and the next thing we knew, we were in here and all these people came out of nowhere with guns. She broke out in hysterical laughter.  “I don’t recall when I’ve last had so much fun in one day.”

 

He looked over at Brenda, who was still chattering away about her ideas and gadgets.  "All right, Brenda, you can stop right there.”

 

She stopped in mid-syllable and slumped down onto the edge of the table. "It's all your fault, Lynda," she pointed at her sister accusingly. "If you hadn't have gotten knocked up, this wouldn't be happening."

 

"Oh, save it," Lynda argued. "That has nothing to do with how we ended up in here and you know it." She shook her head. "And I'm the one who's supposed to be manic-depressive in this family."

 

"Girls!" Napoleon snapped, trying to stop the squabbling. "We're all tired, it's been a long day, so why don't we just get ready to leave?"

 

"Butt out, Napoleon!" Brenda quipped.  “This entire escapade is all your fault.”

 

"Why are you upset with me?" he asked, shocked at her outburst. "I didn't create this situation.”

 

"What do you mean you didn't create this situation?" Brenda screamed.  “If you had just kept your pants zipped up,-“

 

“He tried to, Dingbat,” Lynda butted in.  “But it didn’t quite work out that way.”

 

Brenda started to open her mouth again, but Illya intervened, clamping his hand over Brenda's mouth, which reduced the volume significantly to a muffle. "Why don't we go ahead and get what equipment we'll require and leave?" he suggested.  "The natives are getting restless." He turned his attention to Brenda and removed his hand.  “Are you going to behave now?”

 

“Me?” she asked, looking totally perturbed.  Her eyes looked like orange light would flash from them at any given moment and her face looked like death.  “If I could just get my hands on that goddamned Harry, I’ll rip his ass a new one!” she fired back.

 

"Youre’ not doing anything at this moment but going outside until you cool off,” he simply answered, grabbing her under one arm and dragging her out the door.

 

"Good idea," Napoleon agreed. He looked at Lynda and asked, "How are you holding up?"

 

"I'm getting sleepy," she yawned. "I didn't think to take a nap earlier."  She tiredly rolled her eyes.  “And I’m long past curfew as well.”

 

A few minutes later, after everything had calmed down, Z was about to issue equipment to Napoleon and Illya, but then noticed the girls were getting too nosy again. As Brenda was closely examining a computer system nearby in the corner, she barked, "Leave that alone!"

 

Brenda looked shocked. "What did I do?" she demanded to know.

 

"Nothing, yet," Z snapped back. Turning to Napoleon, she quipped "Either make those two brats wait outside or put them on leashes."

 

Napoleon tried his best to keep his cool as he replied back "That's what we forgot to pack. Just in case you're concerned, they are housebroken."

 

Lynda butted in "We've also had our rabies shots, too." She grinned sarcastically.

 

Illya picked up a watch and asked "You wouldn't mind if I help myself to this, would you?"

 

Z smiled at him. "You can help yourself to anything you like," she answered.

 

While this exchange took place, Lynda rolled her eyes and tried to keep from smirking as she saw Brenda touching up her lipstick. Brenda looked over at her and winked as she unscrewed the bottom of the tube and aimed it at Z's neck. Without looking, Lynda reached down and turned the stem on her watch and before anyone knew what happened, Z went down in the floor.

 

As Napoleon and Illya both rushed over to help her, Lynda looked over at Brenda and grinned from ear to ear. "Good one," she silently mouthed.

 

"Of course," her sister silently mouthed back.

 

Both guys immediately stopped and tried to get Z out of the floor.  Illya immediately noticed the dart in the side of her neck and pulled it out.  “Would you like this one as a momento?” he asked.

“No thanks, I’ll pass.”  Napoleon waved his hand.  “You may have to search for anything else that might be missing, though.”

 

A few minutes later, after everything had calmed down, Sir John pulled the newlyweds to the side as another technician was demonstrating a piece of equipment to Illya and told them. "Before the two of you leave, I'd like to give you some sort of wedding present."

 

"You really needn't trouble yourself, Sir John," Napoleon protested politely, looking at his wife.

 

"I feel I should," he argued. Looking at Lynda, he inquired, "I hope the gift I have in mind won't offend you, Lynda."

 

"What did you have in mind?"

 

"Why don't I show you?" He showed them through the room and through a doorway leading into another room, in the middle of which sat a shimmering salmon-pink Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz with a light gray convertible top. "This car is unique," he began. "In that it is the only one we've modified of this type."

 

The pair were awed by the car and they looked at each other, their mouths open in shock. Finally regaining her senses, Lynda asked "How did you know I wanted a pink Eldorado, Nappy?"

 

"I didn't," he replied. Leaning closer, he whispered "And you're not driving it."

 

"I have my license," she retorted. "Remember?"

 

"Forget it." He walked over and peeked in through the glass on the passenger's side. "What does it do?"

 

Sir John unlocked the driver's door and got in. He flipped a switch on the door panel and the passenger's door unlocked. Napoleon opened the door and got in. Lynda leaned against the open door. "This car has all the amenities, as well as an in-house options package." He pulled down the center armrest and pushed a concealed button on the side. The top flipped back to reveal a hidden compartment loaded with flip-style switches and pushbuttons, all labeled for each particular function. "You have the standard options, such as oil slick, smokescreen, front and rear machine guns," he explained, pointing at each button. "There's also some advanced options, such as the front and rear missile launchers, a .35 mm cannon located in the trunk, as well as the rotating picks that come out of the wheel covers." He pulled open the glove compartment to reveal a radar screen. "The radar has a fifty-mile radius, push this button here," he pointed to a green button on the inside of the lid and the screen changed to a road map. "A state-of-the-art road map."

 

 Napoleon was taking all this into his mind. "That should come in handy if I should ever get lost on the road."

 

"Especially when you can't read a road map," Lynda commented from the passenger's seat while looking over the buttons in the armrest.

 

"We need no comment from the peanut gallery," Napoleon whispered.

 

Sir John continued. "This button here," he pointed to a purple button on the panel, "will automatically activate a locator device located underneath the rear axle. It can also be activated by a remote control on the key chain, in the event the car is stolen." He closed the panel and the glove compartment lid. "I think that just about covers everything except for the exterior. The top is made of a special bulletproof fabric that can resist ammunition. The body is reinforced with armor plating and the glass is a specially made shatterproof, bulletproof Plexiglas material." He handed the keys to Napoleon. "If you don't mind, there is a lakefront house located at Lake Erie. I've taken the liberty of calling ahead to reserve it for you." He immediately realized his blunder and blushed. "Sorry about that. I forgot you're already familiar with it."

 

"That's very generous of you, Sir John," he replied, somewhat taken aback by Sir John's boldness. He looked at Lynda, who had reclined the passenger's seat back and was almost asleep. "But I'm afraid I'll have to decline on the cabin," he explained. "Other arrangements have already been made."

 

Cha-Cha's was one of the best-kept secrets in North Myrtle Beach. Situated on five acres of carefully manicured landscape, the large two-story structure was reminiscent of the pre-civil war plantation homes, with tall columns reaching up to the roof across the wide front porch. Everyone knew of the place, but no one really bothered it. Cha-Cha and her "nieces", as she referred to her female employees, took pride in their chosen "profession" and catered to only the elite, their appointments by reservation only. They also carefully screened their clientele as well as any government agency.

 

In an upstairs bedroom decorated in red satin and white lace, Jacques was with a stunning redhead who may have been in her early twenties. They were in the middle of a huge brass bed, with him on top, taking care of business, so to speak. The only sounds in the room were of the girl moaning and groaning with delight and ecstasy, so neither one heard the door open.

 

Three men dressed in dark clothes with jackets identifying them as D.E.A. agents burst through and into the boudoir, guns drawn. The lead guy yelled "D.E.A.! You're under arrest!"

 

Jacques froze, his eyes wide with fright and utter confusion. "Give me a minute," he half-slurred, still feeling some aftereffects. "I've gotta finish this deposition."

 

The girl was immediately frightened out of her wits. "What's going on?" she demanded.

 

One of the guys studied her, stopping at her well-endowed breasts and replied, "It's a bust, all right."

 

"You pervert!" she squealed, quickly pulling the sheet over herself. "And you call yourself a cop! Your mind should be arrested for vagrancy."

 

The other two were already turning drawers upside down in the dresser and nightstand. One of them found a large zip-lock bag full of pills. "Let me guess," he started, looking at the girls. "You're a pharmacist, right?"

 

"I don't know where those came from!" she fired off.

 

The lead guy walked over and told Jacques "Dismount slowly." He aimed his gun.

 

Jacques slowly got off and got to his feet. Standing face to face with the agent, looking and feeling quite ridiculous in his birthday suit, asked "Just what's going on here?"

 

"We've been watching this place," he began. "And found out something interesting. This is a front for drug trafficking." He studied him. "Get dressed."

 

Jacques quickly scrambled into his clothes and heard pandemonium outside in the hall as the others upstairs were being rousted out of their rooms and taken downstairs. "You don't have to read me my rights," he said, still confused. "I know them by heart. I'm a lawyer."

 

"Then maybe you should've known better than to get caught with your pants down." He put the gun away and pulled a set of handcuffs from his belt. "Up against the wall and spread 'em."

 

Jacques leaned against the wall and his hands were quickly cuffed behind his back, as was his companion, after she had thrown on some clothes. "I've got friends," he whispered to her. "I'll take care of this."

 

"You better be worrying about your own neck," the agent replied, overhearing the remark. "What's your name?"

 

Jacques cleared his throat. "DeBeauharnais," he answered. "Jacques DeBeauharnais."

 

"You're a lawyer, right? That's what you said."

 

"Yeah. I'm the District Attorney in Hawthorne Beach, North Carolina, as a matter of fact," he shot back defiantly. "You can't hold me. I've got connections everywhere."

 

"You're gonna need 'em." And with that, Jacques was led out of the room and down the stairs, the girl following after she had been read her rights by one of the other agents and cuffed.

 

As they were going down the staircase, Jacques got verbal. "I'm gonna sue the entire government for this! This is a violation of my civil rights! I want your names and badge numbers 'cause I'm gonna sue the hell out of ya'll!! Why don't y'all go find someone who's really in a mess? My brother is God Knows Where, with a stolen disk that could wipe out the entire world monetary supply, not to mention the bastard that killed my wife and sister years ago. My nephew's already missing, why not find him? He's probably been abducted by those bastards!"

 

"Whew," the agent waved his hand. "You are reeking! I don't know what you've been drinking, but you sure are mouthy tonight." He chuckled. "I've heard some stories in my twenty years with the D.E.A. and that's about the wildest I've heard. I think you've won our consolation prize," he added, attempting humor. Looking down at another guy at the bottom of the stairs, he asked "Johnny, tell our winner about his grand prize."

 

The other guy, attempting to mimic a game show announcer, said, "You've won an all-expenses paid trip to jail! Do not pass "Go." Do not collect two hundred dollars." He then proceeded to read the Miranda act. "You have the right to remain silent, of course anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You also have the right to an attorney present during questioning. Do you understand all that?"

 

"Ho, ho," Jacques retorted irritably. "You guys are in the wrong profession. Ya'll should be comedians." He shook his head in embarrassment. "Ya'll had better hope my son-in-law doesn't hear about this. He'll have your jobs for brunch!" He was led out the front door and into a waiting car. The other guys got in and, within seconds, they were gone.

 

Meanwhile, back in New York, the newlyweds arrived at the Alexandria Park Hotel to be greeted at the entrance by Kowalski.  “We’ve got agents posted everywhere, watching the exits, stairwells and the front door,” he reported.  “There are even agents stationed right across the street as added precaution.”

 

“Good,” Napoleon replied, getting out from behind the wheel of the Eldorado.  He walked around the car and opened the door to help Lynda out of the car, but she had already opened the door herself.  “I was coming to get that for you.”

 

“I’m perfectly capable of opening a car door,” she replied as he helped her with her dress. 

 

“I’m aware of that,” he returned, picking her up into his arms and carried her to the door, held open by Kowalski.  “Don’t call us, we’ll call you,” he winked as he whisked his bride directly to the elevator.

 

A few moments later, they had reached the apartment door and Napoleon reached into his pocket for the keys.  “Hopefully we won’t have to be concerned about being bugged tonight,” he winked as he unlocked the door.

 

“At least we have an extermination crew at our disposal,” Lynda mused.   She smelled something rather inviting as the door opened and the next thing she knew, she was speechless.

 

Inside the penthouse, there were bouquets of pink roses everywhere.   There were so many it filled the room with an aroma that just set the mood.  Lit candles  were positioned all around the large living area, creating a soft glow that accentuated the atmosphere.  A trail of pink rose petals were on the floor.

 

She turned around to see Napoleon was just as surprised as she was.  “You didn’t,” she whispered.

 

“Actually, no,” he replied.  “I didn’t.”

 

They heard a voice behind them, asking “Hey, who did all this?”   Turning around, they saw Kowalski standing behind them.

 

“Good question,” Lynda answered.  “Maybe you can find that out and let us know so we can send out a thank you note.”

 

“Did you want something, Kowalski?” Napoleon asked.

 

“Your buddy called.  He’s got a hunch he wants followed up on.”  He leaned against the wall.  “Going back to December, the night that the one point three billion was transferred, Travers was at the ranch, right?”

 

“Yes,” Napoleon answered.  “He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Harry.”

 

“I’m beginning to wonder if he’s not working with Harry.”

 

Napoleon was a bit thoughtful on that remark.  He turned it over carefully in his mind.  The incident at the corporate offices with the fire.  Travers tried to explain his presence there, but then that had been questionable.  Then, earlier this evening Larry had disappeared from the Country Club – and he didn’t have a tracking device planted on him somewhere.  Travers was too busy paying attention to Brenda.   Travers had a tracker activated on him that was planted without his knowledge.  It seemed to make sense.

 

He pulled out his communicator and sent out the command.  A second later, Illya came on the line, rather tersely “Kuryakin.”

 

“Illya,” Napoleon started.  “You might want to watch your back.  Travers could be a double agent.”

 

“I was thinking we may both be thinking on the same wavelength.”  He paused.  “And while you and Lynda are enjoying the rest of your wedding night, take some time to smell the roses.”

 

Kowalski waved and disappeared.  Lynda shook her head and took the pen.  “Illya, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

 

“It’s not every day one gets married, is it?” he asked.  “Enjoy the honeymoon.  I think I can handle the rest on my own.”  He signed off.

 

“Well, that seems to answer this mystery, doesn’t it?” Napoleon replied as he took the pen back and closed it up.  He quickly put it back in his jacket and swooped up his bride into his arms and carried her into the apartment.  He set her down long enough to close the door and locked it.

 

“Are you sure you locked it?” she asked, kicking off her shoes and just leaving them there in the floor.

 

“It is,” he winked.  “We’re not inviting the neighbors over just yet.”  He swooped her up again and carried her through the living area and into the bedroom. They were in for quite a treat.  Inside the spacious bedroom, the trail of petals ended and the bed was just covered with them.  There were candles all over the room, flickering brightly, their warm golden glow casting a delicate light on the scene.  A bottle of champagne sat on the nightstand by the bed, chilling in anticipation.  Two crystal fluted glasses sat waiting by the bucket, each one with a bit of pink ribbon tied to the stem.  To complete this romantic setting, there was romantic music coming from a stereo located in a built-in bookshelf on the far wall.

 

Lynda started removing her jewelry and then was trying to unbutton the cuffs on the sleeves of her gown.  “How about getting the back for me?” she asked.

 

“In a sec,” Napoleon replied as took off his jacket and tie and went into the bathroom.  He walked in and turned on the light.  Nothing was out of the ordinary.  “I’m going to start the shower,” he called out as he left his communicator on the counter by the sink and walked over to the huge walk-in shower.   He opened the door and was in for quite a shock.

 

Hanging from the showerhead was a realistic mannequin of Alexander Waverly, complete with brown hat and camel long coat.  Just staring blankly ahead. 

 

Napoleon was shocked for a brief moment before he broke out laughing.  He didn’t even hear Lynda walk in until he heard her exclaim “Oh my God!  That is so wild!”

 

He turned around to see a shocked look on his bride’s face.  “It’s a bit early for Halloween, wouldn’t you think?”

 

“Like totally!”  She walked over and took a closer look at the mannequin, “I’ve heard of ancestors rolling over in their graves, but never any to leap right out and hang themselves.”  She began investigating it, checking the arms and opening the coat.

 

He went over and pulled her away, closing the door.   “What are you doing?”

 

“I was going to look at it so I could see how it was put together,” she protested, giggling.  “That is so neat.”  An idea hit her and her eyes twinkled.  “I bet we could implant a voice module in that thing. Maybe even an electronic brain to-“

 

“Oh no,” he laughed as he led her out of the bathroom.  “You are not even going to entertain that notion.”  He cut the light out and closed the door.  “Three would be a crowd.”

 

Click here for Part 5