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Disclaimer:
This page is an unofficial site that exists only for the fun of it. All characters and situations from the television show "The Man from U.N.C.L.E." are property of Norman Felton and Warner Bros. Nothing ill is intended by this use of any television characters in these amateur efforts. Any fiction linked to these pages is the intellectual property of the amateur author who created it and is not presented here for profit.

Classification: T for Teen (or used to be PG-13 or so)

Author's Notes: Only a handful of agents went through Survival School with
better marks. Why does everyone seem to think she's a THRUSH mole when
no one questioned the others?

Pairing: Unknown

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Cheri entered the lost luggage office to find absolutely no one in
attendance. Presuming that someone would return shortly, she inspected the
desk, located the appropriate form and filled it in. She was just signing
off when a harried young woman dashed into the office apologizing profusely.

Cheri took in the hands deftly tucking her official tailored shirt into her
equally official skirt and suppressed a grin. “Here. I filled it out while I
waited.”

“Oh … Hell. I am sorry. I was just … I mean ..” she blushed.

“Assisting another flier to locate luggage?” Cheri supplied helpfully. The
blush deepened. “Look, it’s none of my business what you were doing. I’d
advise not letting your libido interfere with work, but other than that,
girl, what you do is up to you.”

That got a laugh. “You sound like a Cosmo girl.”

“Not quite. Just a little advanced in my notions of appropriate conduct. I
did mean it about not letting it get in the way. No one is worth losing a
job over. I don’t care how charming or coercive he, she or it may be. The
job comes first. I speak from observation. I have a friend with the same
drives. Channel it into the job first; play hard on your own time. It’s
amazing what you can do if you just remember that.”

The woman tucked an escaped curl back into her elegant French twist, light
hazel eyes regarding her customer thoughtfully. “You’re serious.”

“Yep. It’s one of those little tips that most businessmen who are successful
don’t pass on. After all, if the up and comers can’t control their desires,
they don’t deserve the brass ring ….”

“Damn. Never thought of it that way.” She scanned the form in her hand.
“Looks like you’ve been through this before. Travel a lot?”

“Yes, to the latter. Mostly I just read the form and answered the
questions.”

“You’d be surprised how many people don’t --- or won’t. Well, I’ll keep an
eye out for your bag, Miss … “ She stopped when faced with the name.

“Yuconovich. Strange what Ellis Island did to some people’s family names.”

“Yuconovich,” she repeated. “Russian?”

“In a made up sort of way. Papa was. Maman was French. I was born here.”

“Cool. I’ll keep an eye out for you bag, Miss Yuconovich. I’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Miss ..”

She looked down and discovered her nametag was missing. “Elkins,” she
finished, holding out her hand. “Kim Elkins.”

Cheri shook the offered hand and left, her mind reeling a trifle. Well,
damn, she thought. Kim’s the same everywhere. She was chuckling as she
rejoined Illya and Napoleon as their baggage was loaded into the trunk of a
waiting taxi.

“Something amusing?”

“Miss Elkins is a very nice lady. She handles the lost luggage office here.”
She looked up at Napoleon. “You might like her.”

“Great personality?”

“Probably. I was thinking more along the lines of killer figure, lovely
face, curly hair that escapes from her up-do and apparently a libido that
needs more exercise than it’s getting at the moment.” She considered for a
moment. “Possibly more to her than meets the eye. No, she’s not a THRUSH
agent either,” she ended in a stage whisper and a chuckle.

End Round 9