The next day Mr. Waverly called them into the office for what seemed like and easy and enjoyable assignment. Unfortunately the assignment had gone very badly. Napoleon's behavior was hard to understand. Several times they could have been saved a lot of trouble if Napoleon had just used his considerable charm with the ladies. But for some reason he not only wasn't being charming, he wasn't even paying attention. Illya had had to try to take up the slack but he wasn't very good at it so it hadn't worked.

Once they got back to headquarters much bruised and limping, they made their verbal reports to Mr. Waverly. He was not pleased with the results and let them know it. As they were leaving Mr. Waverly asked Illya to stay behind. The two agents exchanged glances and Illya retook his seat. Mr. Waverly started pacing. "About this last mission of yours…Mr. Solo seems to be having a problem. Has he mentioned anything to you?"

"No, sir." Illya was now continuing to worry about his friend's strange behavior.

"I've often felt that if Mr. Solo wasn't distracted by the fairer sex, your assignments would go more smoothly. Apparently that is not the case." Mr. Waverly was puffing on his pipe. "I want you to find out what the problem is and fix it. I don't care how you do it, but do it." Mr. Waverly ordered.

How could he get Napoleon to talk about the problem? He seemed to be avoiding him and trying to get him drunk hadn't worked. Illya decided to play detective. First, he headed over to records to pull the file. There wasn't much there. It seemed a simple assignment in fact. The Potentate of Azkaba had requested help in interviewing prospective brides. A bit unusual perhaps but nothing that would explain Solo's subsequent behavior.

Illya then headed over to the offices of communications. Heidi Nordan, a tall statuesque blonde, looked up as he entered and came around to the front of her desk. "Is there something I can help you with?" She said with a husky voice as she thrust her breast out.

"Umm, yes, Ms. Nordan, I was wondering if you could tell me if you've noticed anything unusual about Napoleon Solo in the last couple of weeks?"

"If you mean he hasn't asked me out lately, then yes." She remarked, looking provocatively at him.

Maggie Oberon, a well stacked brunet, came over and said, "Illya, can I talk to you in private?" They adjourned into an empty office and Maggie turned to Illya. "I don't know what the problem is, but Napoleon hasn't been staying in his apartment." Illya looked surprised. "As you know we try to keep track of agents so if an emergency comes up we can locate any particular agent at a given time. Napoleon goes to his apartment to change and then he comes to headquarters and works. He's also avoiding people, even Heidi. I'm really worried."

"Thanks, Maggie, I'd appreciate it if you would keep this confidential." He requested.

His next trip was to the lab; he by-passed Simpson and went to the desk of a young lady he felt could probably help him better than anyone else. She looked up and smiled, "Illya, can I help you with something?"

"Carol, what do you know about anything that can be used to make someone talk?"

She looked at him curiously, "Illya, as an enforcement agent, you're as aware of the truth drugs and other drugs that are available as anyone."

"Yes, but this is different, I'm not talking about an interrogation."

"I suppose you could always get someone drunk."

"No…that didn't work."

Carol was now very curious. "Okay, How about this. There is this new drug that's been making the rounds in Europe." She walked over to a cabinet and took out a box. "It's Rohypnol. It's not manufactured in the United States and when used with alcohol it makes the recipient uninhibited and tactable. I'm told that the next morning they have no memory of what has occurred."

"That's very interesting. But what about..." he went on to a different subject.

It wasn't until much later when she went to put the box back up that she noticed it was missing.

Later that day Illya tracked Napoleon down in his office. "Are you doing anything tonight?" He asked.

Napoleon looked up suspiciously from the file he was reading. "No, I thought I would finish up on all the paperwork I have. Why do you ask?" Illya looked at Napoleon's desk. It was neater than he had seen it in years. There were only three files and two of them were in the outbox. "Oh, nothing. I just happen to have 2 tickets to see a jazz session and thought you might like to join me."

Napoleon looked about to refuse. "Why don't you ask one of the ladies that are always after you?"

Illya had to think fast on this one. "I did, but for some reason they are all busy. What do you say, I'll even spring for drinks."

Sighing, Napoleon said, "Okay, I take it they are playing at the Jazz Club? I'll meet you there."

"Where else." Illya tossed out as he left before Napoleon could change his mind.