> Napoleon shook his head, a sly grin had replaced the
> laugh . "Are you
> stupid enough to think that Waverly would've had
> found out all he could,
> personally and professionally, about a Soviet -
> especially one he is
> hiring into UNCLE?" He watched with immense
> satisfaction at the mixture
> of confusion and anger in the grey eyes. "The set we
> have are of better
> quality by the way", he added driving the barb home.

//Napoleon's been watching me?// Illya wondered. What
did the man mean by... Illya's eyes narrowed as he
realized what the KGB stooge--who had taken to
speaking in the thick accent of a Russian peasant
precisely so Solo would not be mistaken who was
visiting the UNCLE Soviet representative--meant, and
what he was showing Solo. The pictures. Those damnable
pictures his KGB masters had taken of him for an
operation he worked. The pictures that showed him nude
and in provocative poses.

The blue eyes narrowed even more when Solo's words
sunk in. **The set we have are of better quality.**
UNCLE HAD PICTURES OF HIM IN COMPROMISING POSITIONS?!?
His jaw worked as he tried to bring his almost
overwhelming anger under control. A difficult task,
but he managed.

He decided to go about this logically. First, there
was no way UNCLE had pictures of him since he had not
had any sexual encounters, male or female, since
arriving in New York. The ones he'd had while
stationed in London were all with women. No blackmail
material there. And he didn't believe UNCLE would drug
him just to take sexual pictures. No. Solo was lying
to the man to take away the KGB's blackmail potential.
He nodded in approval. //Very good, Napoleon!//

Secondly, had Napoleon really been watching him? If
so, why? Was Napoleon Solo actually sexually
interested in him? The thought filled Illya with a
mixture of excitement and dread. He shied away from
both emotions by forcing his mind to the third point.

Thirdly....Oh hell! The bomb!

**********

Napoleon smiled innocently in the face of the angry
KGB agent. He had no doubt as to the organization the
man represented. Only the KGB would be so
heavy-handed. He wondered how Illya had managed to
come through the brutal training possessing grace,
adeptness, and adaptability. Talent, obviously. "I
suggest you take your toys," Solo murmured in a sweet
tone edged with steel. "And leave. And I don't mean
just leave me or even Illya alone. I mean leave New
York. Permanantly."

The big Russian's face turned beet red in fury. He
snatched the envelope from Napoleon's hand. He stuck a
finger in Solo's face. "I'm warning you, Solo!" he
snarled, his accent no longer thick. "Illya Nicovetch
is a wolf within your fold, with a wicked bite and a
steel trap of a mind to match! UNCLE, and you, will
regret allowing him into your ranks!"

Napoleon shrugged. "I think wolves are some of the
most fascinating of the predators. Don't you?"

The Russian's jaw worked for several seconds before he
spun on his heel and stalked to his car. Solo watched
as the man squealed away from the curb. Once the car
had disappeared down the street, he leapt out of his
own car and rushed to Illya's apartment, hoping not to
hear a big BOOM! before he got there.

---

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