Napoleon Solo slipped out the door of their bungalow, wincing at the soft click of the mechanism as it closed behind him. He hoped the sound would not be sufficient to wake the exhausted Russian.
Barefoot, shirtless, and more than a little drunk, he padded along the cobbled path, past a half-dozen bungalows decorated in typical Barbadian style, their gingerbread eaves silhouetted dramatically against the night sky. A chorus of tree frogs, serenading one another in the branches of a nearby acacia, cut off abruptly as he passed. A mongoose, disturbed in the midst of its nightly hunt, slipped away unobserved.( Read more... )