Napoleon Solo paced the length of the livingroom of the spacious suite  with growing uneasiness.  There were so many questions he should know the answers to but didn't.  Why didn't he know about the stupor?  Why did he feel Illya's 'attack' was more passion oriented than an excuse to bring him across?  Why had Illya taken his crucifix?  Most disturbing of all, why had Mark Slate contacted him by phone - a very open and unsecured line of communication?  The Brit was housed four floors above them.

Relying on his instincts Solo pulled his communicator and pushed a yellow button.

"Slate here", came the instant, if somewhat drowsy, response.

"Mark?  Napoleon."

Slate was instantly alert.  "Talk to me."

"I received a call from you, via the telephone, to meet at our usual place."

The Brit was silent for several moments.  "Funny you should mention that, mate.  I received one from you, as well.  I was asked to meet you, too.  In your apartment, as a matter of fact.  I take it neither of us did this."

"Right.  Mark, arm yourself and get down here ASAP.  Be careful."

Before Slate could reply there was the loud crash of glass and a strangled cry of pain.   Napoleon was out the door and headed toward the elevator at a dead run.

"Mr.  Solo?", came a new voice from the device.

"This is Solo."

"You will present yourself, how did you put it - ah, ASAP, to this suite or Mr.  Slate dies."

Rage filled Solo but he fought to control it.  Slate's life hung in the balance.  "All right.  Don't harm him."

"You have my word provided you come unarmed and have not contacted The Heir.  We will know."

"Very well.  I'm already at the elevator."

"Excellent!  We await you."

The device went dead.  "Damn!", the American swore.  "I've got to find a way to warn...."

'Napoleon'

Solo started.  That familiar voice had come from inside his head. 'Illya?'

'Yes, Napoleon.  Do as he demands and fear not.  He does know of the bond between us, therefore, you have obeyed his orders and not contacted me.  You are being used to lure me.'

'I see.  Where are you?

'At UNCLE headquarters.'

Silence. 'Sir John is dead, isn't he?

'Two weeks before my arrival, Napoleon.  We are dealing with what you would term a 'shape shifter'.'

'Makes sense.  One will be in Mark's suite as me and the other will be in my suite as Mark.'

'Excellent!  I have alerted Valentin and grandfather.  They will be disposed of.  Are you there, yet?'

'Just arrived.'

'Good.  Hear me.  We have made history among our people.  We are true and eternal soulmates.  I took your crucifix to protect you.  Once I put it on, felt its fire against my skin as I feel the fire of your blood in my veins, I pledged all of myself to you.  Will you accept this, Napashs?

The endearment thrilled Solo as much as the revelation intrigued him.. 'With all my heart and soul, Illya.  Thank you.'

'You are more than welcome, Napasha.  This is why I told you not to fear and why he will not harm you.  No one, no matter how powerful, can harm the Chosen of the Prince of the Blood.'

'I should have...'

'Known that.  Many things have been kept from you, Napoleon.  I do not know for what purpose.'

'I do!!  I am Heir to the Knighthood, you are Heir of The Kindred. Together, or apart, we are unbeatable!'

'Precisely."

//Illya, you've got to warn....//

A new voice interrupted.  'Mr.Solo.'

Somehow Napoleon was not surprised, yet he had to confirm 'Mr.  Waverly?'

'Indeed, Mr.  Solo.  Please do forgive my fellow Section heads and I for keeping certain things from you; however, we knew this time would come.  For this both you and Mr.  Kuryakin were born, trained, and partnered.  You are both in equal command.  WE are your backups.  Do you both understand?'

Two men - one vampire, one human, smiled the smile of the hunter. 'Yes, sir.  We understand perfectly,' came their twin reply.

'Very well.  Carry on.'