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crack_van2004-11-25 07:51 pm
st-crispins.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2004-11-25 07:51 pm
Entry tags:
The Ransom of the U.N.C.L.E. Chief By Chajka (PG)
Fandom: THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E.
Pairing: none
Author on LJ: no.
Author website:http://file40.net/file40g/chajka_stories.html
Why this must be read:
Alexander Waverly is one of the most neglected characters in fanfic and probably with good reason. He’s a man of contradictions: arguably the most powerful man in the world --- a spymaster to trump all spymasters --- yet he appears to be so absent minded, he can’t seem to even remember his own agents’ names. Clearly, there is so much more to Alexander Waverly than meets the eye. But who knows what’s really going on behind those bushy eyebrows and that bloodhound countenance? More enigmatic than Solo and Kuryakin put together, he, like God, moves in mysterious ways.
It’s difficult to write a Waverly who is more than a mere conduit for exposition, but Chajka has met the challenge several times. In fact, she’s produced a number of very clever stories in general, but this is one of my favorites. Even if you don’t get all the canon references, it’s still a hilarious misadventure and makes me laugh every time I read it.
Two dim bulbs from Thrush, Forrest Farr and Rodney Muffin (remember the Boris Karloff in drag episode from GFU?) decide to kidnap one of U.N.C.L.E.’s best agents in order to boost their failing careers. As luck would have it, they stumble upon Waverly leaving Del Floria’s and end up bagging The Old Man himself.
Before long, Waverly is complaining about the accommodations, demanding his favorite tea and critiquing their lack of professionalism.
And that’s only the beginning
"Forrest, I'm starting to think maybe this wasn't our best idea," says Rodney.
No kidding.
Back at HQ, Solo is left in charge and not having a good day himself:
He looked over at his partner, the acting head of Section Two. Illya was standing a pace away, his hands serenely folded behind his back, his face looking like the cat that had just polished off the entire bottle of cream. "Explain," Solo said flatly.
"It's a brick," explained Russian succinctly.
Solo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought down a major headache. "You had better not have... (pinch)... just told me...(stronger pinch)... that this is...a BRICK," he warned, his voice rumbling with implied threat. He opened his eyes slowly and raised them to his friend with a look that Thrush agents had learned to fear years before.
Illya arched an eyebrow and noted absently how much his friend's voice and demeanor had come to resemble Waverly's in the space of one short afternoon. "Well, it did have a note tied to it," he observed in mock innocence.
"Ill-YA," began Solo, his voice increasing in roar-coefficient as the word stretched on. From the neighboring room he could hear the increasing din of the argument grow in the briefing room.
"A ransom note, Napoleon," he said, producing the note from behind him. Only the mild triumphant glint in his eyes betrayed him. "And," he said, "a license plate number of the car whose occupant tossed it.
And the name of the place they are probably holding Mr. Waverly."
Solo came instantly alert and rose off the desk . He picked up the brick and examined it closely. On the other side, embossed on the rough face of the red cement, was 'Bayonne Brick Works.'
"The license plate?" prodded the CEA.
"New Jersey. Confirming evidence. It's listed to a Ebenezer Mortgage Company, one of Thrush's cover companies."
"Thrush is demanding a ransom? This just doesn't make sense," returned Solo.
"Read the note," urged his partner." It is addressed to you after all." Illya stood nearby, his arms crossed.
Solo scanned the badly spelled hand-scrawled ransom note rapidly:
Mr. Napolion Solo, Esq.
We have your boss consealed in a place far from U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. It is useless for your agents to try to find him as we has him hid very good. He has not been hurt YET. If you want to see him alive again you personally must come to the Big Boy restrant at Route 1 and 9th Streets at midnight in Newark and pick up farther instructions on where to drop off the $1 MILLION dollars American for his return to you. We will leave the instructions in a Uneeda biscuit tin beside the dumpster out behind the restaurant near the big tree by the fence on the left there.
We are desparit men and will not fail to deal with him if you try any trechery. Pay up or you will never see your boss again.
Signed: TWO DESPARIT MEN
If you’re familiar with the original O. Henry story from which this story takes it’s name, you can guess just how desperate these guys are going to get.
The Ransom of the U.N.C.L.E. Chief
Pairing: none
Author on LJ: no.
Author website:http://file40.net/file40g/chajka_stories.html
Why this must be read:
Alexander Waverly is one of the most neglected characters in fanfic and probably with good reason. He’s a man of contradictions: arguably the most powerful man in the world --- a spymaster to trump all spymasters --- yet he appears to be so absent minded, he can’t seem to even remember his own agents’ names. Clearly, there is so much more to Alexander Waverly than meets the eye. But who knows what’s really going on behind those bushy eyebrows and that bloodhound countenance? More enigmatic than Solo and Kuryakin put together, he, like God, moves in mysterious ways.
It’s difficult to write a Waverly who is more than a mere conduit for exposition, but Chajka has met the challenge several times. In fact, she’s produced a number of very clever stories in general, but this is one of my favorites. Even if you don’t get all the canon references, it’s still a hilarious misadventure and makes me laugh every time I read it.
Two dim bulbs from Thrush, Forrest Farr and Rodney Muffin (remember the Boris Karloff in drag episode from GFU?) decide to kidnap one of U.N.C.L.E.’s best agents in order to boost their failing careers. As luck would have it, they stumble upon Waverly leaving Del Floria’s and end up bagging The Old Man himself.
Before long, Waverly is complaining about the accommodations, demanding his favorite tea and critiquing their lack of professionalism.
And that’s only the beginning
"Forrest, I'm starting to think maybe this wasn't our best idea," says Rodney.
No kidding.
Back at HQ, Solo is left in charge and not having a good day himself:
He looked over at his partner, the acting head of Section Two. Illya was standing a pace away, his hands serenely folded behind his back, his face looking like the cat that had just polished off the entire bottle of cream. "Explain," Solo said flatly.
"It's a brick," explained Russian succinctly.
Solo closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he fought down a major headache. "You had better not have... (pinch)... just told me...(stronger pinch)... that this is...a BRICK," he warned, his voice rumbling with implied threat. He opened his eyes slowly and raised them to his friend with a look that Thrush agents had learned to fear years before.
Illya arched an eyebrow and noted absently how much his friend's voice and demeanor had come to resemble Waverly's in the space of one short afternoon. "Well, it did have a note tied to it," he observed in mock innocence.
"Ill-YA," began Solo, his voice increasing in roar-coefficient as the word stretched on. From the neighboring room he could hear the increasing din of the argument grow in the briefing room.
"A ransom note, Napoleon," he said, producing the note from behind him. Only the mild triumphant glint in his eyes betrayed him. "And," he said, "a license plate number of the car whose occupant tossed it.
And the name of the place they are probably holding Mr. Waverly."
Solo came instantly alert and rose off the desk . He picked up the brick and examined it closely. On the other side, embossed on the rough face of the red cement, was 'Bayonne Brick Works.'
"The license plate?" prodded the CEA.
"New Jersey. Confirming evidence. It's listed to a Ebenezer Mortgage Company, one of Thrush's cover companies."
"Thrush is demanding a ransom? This just doesn't make sense," returned Solo.
"Read the note," urged his partner." It is addressed to you after all." Illya stood nearby, his arms crossed.
Solo scanned the badly spelled hand-scrawled ransom note rapidly:
Mr. Napolion Solo, Esq.
We have your boss consealed in a place far from U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. It is useless for your agents to try to find him as we has him hid very good. He has not been hurt YET. If you want to see him alive again you personally must come to the Big Boy restrant at Route 1 and 9th Streets at midnight in Newark and pick up farther instructions on where to drop off the $1 MILLION dollars American for his return to you. We will leave the instructions in a Uneeda biscuit tin beside the dumpster out behind the restaurant near the big tree by the fence on the left there.
We are desparit men and will not fail to deal with him if you try any trechery. Pay up or you will never see your boss again.
Signed: TWO DESPARIT MEN
If you’re familiar with the original O. Henry story from which this story takes it’s name, you can guess just how desperate these guys are going to get.
The Ransom of the U.N.C.L.E. Chief