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“Sorry, we can’t insure you for a journey like that.” The insurance agent closed the file folder and looked resolutely at his customer.
The phrase sent Napoleon Solo into a bit of a tailspin.
“What do you mean? It’s your job. You insure the uninsurable. You’re Lloyd’s of London.”
“Within reason, Mr. Solo.”
“You insured Jimmy Durante’s nose. You insured Betty Grable’s legs. This is just a holiday trip to…”
“Some places we prefer to avoid. Do you know what the conditions are like there?”
“All too well, I’m afraid.”
“Then why come here now?”
“You don’t understand. I have a family now. I don’t want to leave them hanging and with nothing is something happens to me.”
“You have children?” The man’s tone softened.
“A son. He married my partner’s daughter.” Napoleon dug out his wallet. He flipped it open to a recent shot.
“That’s an attractive family.”
“Thanks. The youngest had medical issues of a sort.”
“What does your wife think?”
“She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.” The agent returned to the paperwork, shuffling it to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t realize, forgive me.”
“That’s okay, it was a long time ago.” Napoleon didn’t feel the need to correct the man’s misconception. “That was then and this is now. If I was fifteen years, even ten years younger, I wouldn’t bother, but at my age, it seemed practical.”
“Practical or not, there is no precedent for this.”
“And that means no coverage.”
“I’m afraid so.”
Napoleon sighed, then grunted as he stood. “Well, if you read about my death in the days to come—“
“I know that I made the right decision.” The agent offered his hand. “Trust me, Mr. Solo, you will be fine.”
“Have you ever attempted this?”
“No, sir, I can’t say that I have, but I have also never skydived or parachuted or half of the other things you have done in your very colorful past. You will be fine.”
“So you say…”
Napoleon walked out of the office and out onto the street. He spotted Illya’s car sitting not far from him. He climbed in and put his seat belt on.
“So?”
“So what?”
“I knew he wouldn’t go for it. You are going to be okay. Look, I did it and I’m fine.”
“You weren’t. You had nightmares for a week.”
Illya eased the car out into traffic. “I was trapped in a drainage pipe for five hours a day later, cut me a little slack here.”
Napoleon stared out the window and did an adult equivalent of a pout. “It’s not fair.”
“But, Grampy,” Irina said, holding a makeup brush at the ready. “You will look lovely in peach.” Irina’s little friends crowded around him, all ready for his makeover. It wasn’t bad enough that his hair was tied up with ribbons, but now they were ready for nail polish.
“I’m going to get you, Kuryakin,” he growled as Illya peeked in from the hall and grinned.
“It’s not right that you are enjoying this so much,” his daughter whispered as she passed. Her arms were full of laundry to be folded and Illya took some from her and followed her back to the living room on the way to the couch. She dropped it on to coffee table and started to fold. He helped her.
“It’s payback.” He had a self-satisfied tone in his voice.
“For when?”
“Remember last summer when Alex and his friends were camping out in the backyard?”
“I do.”
“Who do you think dropped in just before bedtime and told the boys all about The Killer with the Bloody Claw?”
“I thought that was you.”
“I’m not that much of a rookie when it comes to camp outs. I was just the patsy who had to sit up with them all night.”
“He’s going to make you pay for this…”
“He can try. I have photographs.”
“Dad, you didn’t!”
“No lipstick!” he heard Napoleon shout from the family room and Illya’s grin grew wider.
“Maybe not, but who will be the wiser for it.”
“I have a feeling you’re the one who’s going to need an insurance policy after this. Come on, help me make popcorn.”
“And then,” Illya’s voice grew gravely as he continued, “Who stole my Golden Arm?” With a grin, he hurried off.
For her part, Lisle just shook her head and wondered, not for the first time, if it was kids or grandparents they were raising.