THE
RUSSIAN BALLET
AFFAIR
by
GM
May 1964
Feet propped at the edge of
his desk, shirt button loosened and tie askew, Napoleon Solo negligently
fingered the twin objects in his hand. Two highly prized, sought after, and
extremely difficult to acquire tickets for the Russian Ballet. His agile Rind
fleetingly skimmed over his possibilities.
These could really gain
points with
Sigh!
Maureen, the dancer would
be eternally grateful, he smiled wolfishly. Then again, she'd spend the entire
evening explaining the significance of every movement on stage and heed be
regaled with the entire history of dance.
Oh well.
Elaine would hang on him
the entire night. Then she would call him every day for the rest of the week to
express her his effusive gratitude. Napoleon Solo was never one to turn away
the lavish rewards of a grateful woman. But, there was a limit to all good
things.
Helene, certainly, he could
count on to be available, willing and a number of other enticing adjectives,
but, she would demand top flight, first class accoutrements. From an expensive
orchid corsage, the ritziest restaurant in town, and champaign in the three
digit category. Hmmm. It was the end of the month. He couldn't risk that kind
of stress on any of his credit cards. And it could never be justified on his
expense account.
April wasn't in town so
that left her off the list.
He'd have to do some fancy
footwork of his own just to get a companion to go with him to the ballet. All
he asked was an amiable, companionable person with whom to spend a quiet,
uneventful evening. Basically a gregarious and genial person, Solo felt life's
experiences more treasured when shared.
He sought someone who could
appreciate the cultural and intellectual stimulation of the ballet, as well as
the esthetic beauty of the performance. A person who could maintain clever
conversation over a good dinner and a fine wine -- and appreciate those
subtleties, too. Maybe even sympathize with and understand how prized was this
brief respite from the life and death gambles of his career. Wouldn't t hurt
either if his companion could appreciate the pains he'd gone to just to get
hold of these blasted tickets!
Did there exist an
accomplice who could enjoy an easy, delightful, compatible, camaraderie one
slightly weary and worn secret agent? Surely that wasn't too much to ask!
Suddenly, the perplexed
countenance brightened, an easy grin played with amusement on the mobile face.
He'd missed the forest for the trees! The answer was right a front of his eyes
all the time.
Of course!
Why hadn't he seen it
before! Amiable, compatible, amusing comrade. All qualities synonymous with a
very obvious choice: Who better to take along to the Russian ballet than a good
Russian friend? After all, what were friends for?
He picked up the nearby
phone and punched the button to an interoffice number. There warn a quick
answer from the other end of the time.
"Hello?"
"Illya, what are you
doing tonight?"
"Why?"
"Oh, I have some free
tickets to the Russian ballet. Know any Russians who might be interested?"
There was a smile in the
reply. "I will probably regret this, but at what cost are these free
tickets?"
"Well, maybe we could
go backstage and you could introduce me to some of the ballerinas?"
Sign. "Why not? I have
nothing better to do."
Solo hung up, smiling. No
question he had made the right choice.
THE END