TITLE: The Better Gadget Affair

AUTHOR: RAC aka Lady Ra

E-MAIL ADDRESS: ladyra11@yahoo.com

RATING: NC-17

PAIRING: IK/NS

EPISODE WARNING: None

DISCLAIMER: They're mine, they're mine. Mwahahaha. Shit, all right. They're not mine. Damn it. It all belongs to whoever the heck owns Man From U.N.C.L.E. now. And that's not me.

SUMMARY: Where did Napoleon get all those great gadgets from?

NOTES: Set before Napoleon and Illya are partners. And I'm sure I'm mucking around with their history a little bit, but just try and breathe through it if it bothers you. Oh, and I swear (girl scout's honor) that I had this written before reading Blondie's wonderful story Tattoo, and Jadwol's fab new Round Robin start, cuz there's some similarities to parts of this story. All I can say is that great minds think alike. LOL.

WARNING: Don't take candy from strangers.

DISTRIBUTION: File 40

FEEDBACK: Absolutely.

THANKS: To Morr, for her quibbles! And thanks to DiT for beta assistance, and to Irene who I'm going to talk into giving this a look over. And thanks to the folks at Channel W for their ongoing fic help, gadgets in this case.

The Better Gadget Affair:

Napoleon held out the cufflinks in the palm of his hand as if they were poison. "They didn't work."

"I don't have time to listen to your complaints, Solo."

Napoleon clenched his jaw. "Listen, Roberts, when you give me equipment, and tell me it does something, I expect it to do what you've told me it will do." Napoleon couldn't understand what had happened to the man. While Roberts had never been the friendliest of men, nor a genius by anyone's standards, since his promotion a year ago to Lab Director, his attitude had taken a severe nose dive. Napoleon tuned back into Roberts' words.

"And isn't it interesting that the equipment always seems to work for everyone else. You're the only one that comes in here to tell me these things don't measure up to your exacting standards." The sarcasm was barely veiled.

"I find that hard to believe."

"Well, go cry on somebody else's shoulder. Waverly's got me up to my ass in crocodiles getting an order done for London. Though why they can't do their own goddamn work is beyond me." The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Go see the new guy." He sneered. "The commie. I'm sure he'll set you right up. Maybe give you something that will explode while you're still wearing it." He muttered something unflattering about Waverly hiring an enemy right into the heart of U.N.C.L.E. and then turned back to his project, essentially dismissing Napoleon.

Napoleon didn't like being dismissed. He didn't like it at all. But he also knew when he'd lost a battle. He wouldn't get anything further out of this fool without direct orders from Waverly. He lingered over the delightful notion of shooting Roberts but decided he wasn't worth the effort.

Once out in the hall he noticed a new nameplate on the lab next door. Napoleon ran his fingers over the embossed letters. Illya Kuryakin, Ph.D. Ah, he thought, Roberts' commie.

Napoleon glanced through the window and saw a man staring intently into a microscope. All he could see was blond hair and a black outfit under a white lab coat. Napoleon entered after the door slid open. "Excuse me?"

The man looked up and blue eyes, which now stared intently at him, temporarily arrested Napoleon.

"What?" the man snapped.

Not the most welcoming of speeches, but Napoleon pressed on. "I'm looking for Dr. Kuryakin."

"You found him."

Napoleon's eyes widened. This guy didn't seem old enough to have a Ph.D. But, he was hardly going to argue the point. Napoleon held out the cufflinks. "I have a complaint."

The blond eyed the cufflinks, glanced at Napoleon, took in his outfit from his tie down to his expensive shoes and went back to his microscope. "Take it up with your couturier."

Napoleon snorted. "They're explosives."

That got the man's attention. The cufflinks were scooped out of Napoleon's hand and closely scrutinized. "What exactly is your complaint?"

"They don't work once they get wet."

"Then I suggest you not go swimming prior to detonation."

Napoleon had a sharp retort ready to go when he saw a flash of humor in the blue eyes. He found himself grinning instead and turned it into a wry smile. "Thanks. I'll take it under advisement." He put his hand out. "Napoleon Solo."

His hand was gripped firmly. "Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin." Introductions over, the cufflinks were placed on the counter, and Illya went back to his microscope.

Napoleon felt dismissed again and his goodwill toward the blond started to evaporate. "Aren't you going to fix them now?"

Illya glanced at him. "Do you need them now?"

No, he didn't, but that was hardly the point. "Yes."

"No, you don't."

Napoleon frowned. "How do you know?"

"Because if you needed them now, we'd be having a completely different conversation."

Napoleon bounced on his toes, momentarily stymied. He managed to rally. "Well, I need them by tomorrow."

Illya flashed him a look of disbelief but he nodded. "Fine, I'll have them by tomorrow."

Napoleon waited for him to pick up the cufflinks and start working on them but he went back to his microscope. Napoleon wanted someone to act as if he mattered, as if the fact that he was the one out there getting beaten and shot at and tortured counted for something. He pointed at the defunct gadgets. "You're not even looking at them."

Illya kept his eyes focused on whatever it was he was looking at. "It's no wonder you're a spy with such keen powers of observation."

Napoleon beat his fingers in a single drum roll on the counter and decided he'd hold off strangling the man until tomorrow when his cufflinks would no doubt still be sitting on the counter in the exact spot they were currently sitting in. Without another word he left the lab and headed back to his office to finish up the report on his less than stellar mission, within which non-exploding cufflinks had a starring role.

*****

Napoleon returned to the lab earlier than intended the next morning, having received an unexpected call from Waverly with instructions to depart within the hour for a new mission. He decided to share - with his new comrade - his frustration over his lack of sleep, the fact that he was going to a decidedly untropical location, and that he was going to have to miss his date with Candy tonight.

He slammed into the lab and saw the cufflinks, as expected, still sitting on the counter. Kuryakin had the temerity to still be staring into that damn microscope. Napoleon rapped the counter none too gently, anticipating the opportunity for a verbal sparring from which he intended to emerge the victor. "Are these done?"

"Yes."

That took the wind out of his sails. His eyebrows rose. "They are?"

Illya pulled away from the microscope. Napoleon was tempted to go take a peek; maybe there was some sort of microscopic peep show on that slide. "You said you needed them today, didn't you?"

Napoleon had, but he certainly hadn't expected them to be done. Lately, no one in the labs had anything done when he needed it. They always brought it up to his office the day he got back, when his arm was in a sling or bruises were darkening his face. Roberts' bad attitude seemed to be contagious.

It was gratifying that the man had done as asked, but it left Napoleon feeling a bit breathless. As if he'd thrown a punch expecting to come into contact with a hard punching bag and instead now found himself freefalling through Jell-o. It made him snappy. "Are they waterproof?" He gave the cufflinks a suspicious stare, sure they were getting ready to make a fool of him again.

Illya took the cufflinks away from him and put one on the counter. "They won't hold up for a channel swim, but they should survive a dip in a fountain."

Napoleon's eyes narrowed. That was exactly what had happened to him; during a fight with a Thrush agent he'd been thrown into a fountain. Then incarcerated. Obtaining his freedom had taken much longer than expected because his stupid cufflinks had decided to malfunction. He glared through his narrowed eyes. "How did you know that?"

The blue eyes twinkled. "Lucky guess."

Napoleon frowned. The only way he could have known about the fountain was if he'd read Napoleon's report. And that was classified information. He opened his mouth to question the scientist but was sidetracked by his next comment.

"I changed the way they work."

Ah, Napoleon thought, here it comes. He should have known there was a catch. "What do you mean?" He didn't have time for this.

"It seemed to me they were impractical. You needed both cufflinks to make one explosive device, one cufflink being the explosive, and one being the detonator. Correct?"

Napoleon nodded. Very correct and very aggravating. Getting both cufflinks free when your hands were tied took extra time.

Illya continued. "If you need the explosives, you would need easy access and as little manipulation as possible." He held the cufflink up. "So, each one is now explosive and detonator all in one. Watch." Using one hand, so as to demonstrate how easily it could be done, he braced the cufflink against the base of his thumb, holding it still with his pinky and ring finger. Then Illya used his thumb and index finger to twist the top, three times.

Then he held up the cufflink and showed Napoleon the firing mechanism. "Push it together with a snap, like so," his fingers tightened and the mechanism snapped together, "and you have ten seconds to toss it near whatever it is you wish blown up. It has the same explosive power as before."

Napoleon was mentally counting down ten seconds, growing a tad apprehensive as he approached zero. "Um…"

Still using one hand, Illya gave the mechanism a half twist and held it in his hand. "And that defuses it."

Napoleon was astonished. When Napoleon had first arrived there'd been staff here that had done their best by the agents. But over the last year Napoleon had lost count of the suggestions he had given them for items that were smaller, or more concealing, or less cumbersome to use, and instead he got gadgets that proved unreliable, or would have made better prank gifts than tools of the trade for men and women putting their lives on the line.

Now, in less than a day, this man had heard his complaint, fixed it, and then, without any prompting, made it better. He almost hoped he'd get a chance to try them out. Napoleon flashed Illya a grin. "Thanks." He began to work the cufflinks through his cuffs.

"Don't thank me yet. They're prototypes."

"They always are." He straightened his cuffs, and adjusted his suit sleeves.

Illya flashed him a mocking smile. "I hope you don't play with your cufflinks when you get nervous, Mr. Solo. I'd hate for you to blow your hands off by accident."

Napoleon gave him a dirty look. "I don't get nervous."

"Well-dressed and nerves of steel. I can see the fate of the world is in good hands." He tapped his watch. "Hadn't you better go?"

Napoleon's eyes narrowed again. "How do you know that?"

Illya ignored him. "Let me know how they work. That is, if you manage not to blow yourself up." Illya walked him to the door.

Napoleon wasn't sure why he was allowing himself to be ushered out. "If I get blown up, it will be your fault."

"Of course, I'll accept full responsibility," Illya said dryly, opening the door.

In a very smooth maneuver Napoleon could only envy, he found himself on the other side of the door to the lab. He turned and peeked through the window. Illya was back at his microscope. Napoleon let out a soft laugh, glanced at his cuffs, experienced an absurd moment of feeling warmly protected and then, knowing the minutes were ticking by, picked up his suitcase to catch a taxi to the airport.

*****

They worked. He couldn't believe it but they worked. And after they got wet. Amazing. Napoleon let himself into his apartment, glad once again he'd made it home alive. And this time, he owed it to a Russian. He let out a snort for the delicious ironies of life and headed for his bar. He had to push a few bottles aside but he found a bottle of Stolichnaya, still unopened. He poured himself a glass and toasted the good Doctor Kuryakin in absentia.

The next morning he went down to the lab. Napoleon opened the door into Illya's lab and frowned when he found Roberts there. "Where's Kuryakin?" The last person he wanted to see was Roberts.

"Why? What'd the commie do now?"

Napoleon let out a long breath. "Roberts, don't start with me. Just tell me where he is."

"Hopefully in an unmarked shallow grave."

Napoleon knew he shouldn't bother. It was impossible to win a fight with Roberts. He was like a damn bulldog who hung on to his beliefs, rational or not, like a well-chewed butcher bone.

But, Napoleon couldn't leave it alone. He poked his finger into Roberts' chest. "That commie, as you call him, is better at this job than you've ever been. So, do me a favor and tell me where he is and then go slink back to your lab."

"I'm right here."

Napoleon turned and saw Illya standing in the doorway.

Roberts used the moment to move away from Napoleon and head for the door. Illya slowly got out of his way. As he left, he murmured, "God damn commie-lover."

Napoleon felt a spurt of anger on Illya's behalf and gave him a tight smile, saying, "Charming fellow. He's always the first name on my guest list."

Illya moved to his counter, his hand touching the microscope as if for reassurance. "He doesn't by any chance have a nervous habit of twisting his cufflinks, does he? I could make him a personal set."

Napoleon laughed, delighted at Illya's sense of humor.

Illya's lips formed a half smile. "I see you managed to avoid blowing off your hands." His fingers lightly grazed the papers lying next to the microscope, and then he cast his eyes over the other counters in the lab where a couple of experiments were clearly in process.

Napoleon watched him for a second, and then figured out what he was doing. "It didn't look like he was touching anything."

Illya nodded. He gave Napoleon a wry smile. "You will make an enemy of him if you defend me like that."

Napoleon heard the hidden thanks and leaned back against the counter by the microscope. "Considering how close he's come to killing me with one malfunctioning gadget after another, I don't know how it could get worse if he were an enemy." He smiled. "By the way, thanks. The cufflinks worked great."

That got a satisfied nod out of the Russian. "Good." He opened a drawer and pulled out another pair. "Here."

Napoleon took them gladly. His communicator went off, and he pulled the mechanism out of his inner suit pocket. "Solo here."

"Ah, Mr. Solo." It was Waverly. "Have you finished your report yet?"

Napoleon let out a silent sigh. "I'll have it to you within the hour."

"Very good."

Napoleon eyed the communicator with some displeasure and put it away. He gave Illya a rueful smile. "The exciting life of a spy."

"You best get to it, then, Mr. Solo. Duty calls."

"Napoleon. Call me Napoleon." He was charmed by the shy smile his request drew from the Russian. Napoleon found himself reluctant to leave. "Are you sure you don't have anything around here that does paperwork?"

Illya gestured at the cufflinks in Napoleon's hand. "You could throw one of those at the file. It would certainly eliminate the need."

"Yeah, and get me thrown in a detention cell."

"Chances are you wouldn't have to do any paperwork while you're there."

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass on your suggestion, Dr. Kuryakin. I'll just go finish writing my report."

"Have it your way." Illya gave him another shy smile. "And you may call me Illya, if you wish."

Feeling as if he'd won some undefined victory, Napoleon gave Illya a warm smile as he left the lab.

*****

It was five days and one mission later when Napoleon ran into Illya again. Napoleon was getting some lunch from the commissary, loading his tray to make up for going without eating for two days while he was tied up in some abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere.

As he made his way to a table with his laden tray, he heard some grumbling behind him. It only took a few words for him to identify Roberts as the speaker. "Someone needs to send that damn commie home. He's got no business being here."

Napoleon turned around and saw that Illya had just entered the commissary.

The grumbling continued. "We don't need his kind here."

Roberts' attitude made Napoleon furious and he was determined not to let the man infect anyone else. He called out. "Illya."

Illya focused in on the voice and waited, eyebrows up.

"Come have lunch with me." Napoleon gestured toward a back table.

Illya's glance took in Roberts and he hesitated a moment. Napoleon wondered if he would turn and leave, but then, to his relief, Illya gave him a small smile and a tight nod, and moved to get his food.

Roberts sneered up at Napoleon.

Napoleon put his hand on Roberts' shoulder, hard enough to make a point. "Don't. Just don't. He's working here, same as us, and that makes us all part of the same team." Napoleon saw several pairs of eyes watching him, and he hoped he was making his point to those willing to listen. Although, Napoleon suspected Roberts surrounded himself with the likeminded.

Illya began to make his way to the back table. Napoleon gave Roberts a warning look and left to join the Russian. There was a moment's awkwardness as they both settled. Finally, Napoleon decided on the direct approach. "The man's a bigot, Illya. He doesn't speak for us all."

The small smile appeared again, fleetingly. "He speaks for quite a few."

Napoleon reached out and touched Illya's arm. "Well, he doesn't speak for me."

Illya glanced down at the hand that was lightly touching him and frowned.

Napoleon followed his eyes and saw the rope burns on his wrist. He pulled his arm back and shot his cuff down to cover it. He gave Illya a wry smile. "Souvenir."

Illya pursed his lips, his head cocked to the side. "Are your hands usually tied in front or in back?"

Napoleon thought about it for a minute, his arms moving a few inches forwards and backwards as he mentally reviewed the last few times he'd been tied. "Both, I think. Sometimes over my head." His face scrunched up. "I hate that. Can't protect yourself." His eyebrows waggled. "Why? Are you going to invent another gadget?"

"Possibly."

"Good. I'd just as soon not have to depend on Roberts to save my life."

Illya gave him a quick flash of a real smile, just enough to make Napoleon wish he'd seen more of it. "Want me to kill him for you?"

Napoleon snorted. "Would you please?"

Illya nodded. "I'll take care of it."

Napoleon laughed, but then he took in the look on Illya's face. "I'm kidding. You know that, right?"

Illya looked disappointed. "I'd be doing the world a favor."

"I know, but they'd probably deport you, and then who'd make me my exploding cufflinks? I think I'd rather keep you around, even if it means we both have to put up with Roberts."

Illya sighed. "All right."

Napoleon looked at Illya's eyes, and was relieved to see a twinkle there. It would be a challenge to keep on top of the Russian's sense of humor. Napoleon found himself looking forward to it.

*****

On his next mission, Napoleon was again tied up and, for several reasons, his thoughts drifted toward Illya. The most obvious reason Illya was on his mind was because Napoleon's hands were tied over his head and it brought to mind the conversation he and Illya had had over lunch.

He was also thinking of Illya because Napoleon wished he'd stopped in to see Illya before he left. Maybe the Russian had invented some sort of gadget that might be coming in handy just about now.

There was a third reason Napoleon was thinking of Illya and it was much less utilitarian. He simply found it comforting. He wasn't even sure why. Napoleon had only talked to the man a handful of times, but he liked the Russian. A lot. Something in him reached to something in Napoleon.

Napoleon could hear footsteps and he brightened. Having the enemy around meant he might end up a bit bruised and battered while he was tied this way but it would also, if he were lucky and if he played his cards right, provide him with a means to escape.

Two hours later he'd retrieved his gun and communicator, called for backup, found the formula for the new chemical weapon, and only paid for it with a cracked rib or two and a few bruises. Napoleon thought it was a more than an equitable trade.

When he got back to U.N.C.L.E., while he was leaning over for the receptionist to pin on his badge, she flipped through some messages. "I have a message for you. Yes, here it is. Dr. Kuryakin would like to see you."

That worked fine for Napoleon as he needed to deliver the formula to the lab anyway. He had been planning on giving it to Illya, but had been surprised when Waverly told him to make sure that the formula was only to be given to Illya. Napoleon found it gratifying that the old man clearly trusted his Russian addition.

Napoleon snuck by Roberts' lab, not wanting to deal with the unpleasant man, and entered Illya's. Once again he was sitting at the counter, staring into his microscope. "What could possibly be so interesting that every time I come in here you're staring at that thing?"

Illya looked up and flashed Napoleon a quick grin. "Hundreds of tiny pictures of naked women."

Napoleon grinned back. "I knew it." He handed Illya the formula retrieved from the Thrush satrapy. "Just in case you get bored, here's something else to keep you busy."

Illya took a quick look at it. "Mr. Waverly said you'd be dropping it by." He folded it and put it in his pants pocket.

Napoleon leaned against the counter, not in any hurry to leave. "Missy said you wanted to see me?"

Illya nodded and he reached around Napoleon to open a drawer. Napoleon couldn't keep a wince off his face as Illya inadvertently brushed against his bruised ribs.

Illya quickly pulled back. "Are you hurt?"

Napoleon was both impressed and annoyed that Illya had noticed. "I'm fine."

"What happened?"

Napoleon shook his head as if to dismiss the man's concern but then found himself answering. "They got in a few lucky punches." He made as if to demonstrate his hands tied over his head, but winced once more as the movement pulled on his ribs.

Illya frowned. "Over your head again?"

Napoleon waved a nonchalant hand through the air, wanting a subject change. "I got the formula. All's well that ends well."

Illya shrugged, apparently agreeing. He walked around Napoleon this time so he wouldn't touch him when he opened the drawer. It crossed Napoleon's mind that he hadn't given it a thought that Illya had leaned across him, touching him before. It hadn't even occurred to him to feel that his personal space was being invaded.

Illya retrieved what he had been going after. He held out a watch. "Here."

"Oh, you shouldn't have." Napoleon showed Illya his watch. "I have one already." He grinned.

Illya rolled his eyes. "Take it off."

Napoleon complied. "What does the new one do?"

Illya demonstrated a small button on the side that once depressed caused a small, but wicked looking serrated blade to eject. "This should help cut ropes in the future."

Napoleon gave Illya a lopsided grin and took the watch.

Illya cautioned him, "Be careful, it's very sharp."

Napoleon nodded. He snapped the knife back in place and depressed the ejector button himself. "This is great. Does it do anything else?"

"It tells the time."

Napoleon grinned.

Then Illya took it back. He pointed toward the face of the watch. "It's also a compass." The corner of his lips quirked up. "Oh, and it's waterproof."

Napoleon gave Illya a look, took back the watch, slowly turning himself, holding the watch steady until he was pointing true north. "This will come in handy." He gave Illya a grateful grin. "For some reason, they almost always leave me my watch. I guess they want me to be able to keep track of how long they're making me miserable."

"Why don't you have a partner to get you out of these scrapes?"

Napoleon let out a sigh. "I'm supposed to have one. There wasn't anyone available when I came on and now I've gotten used to working by myself."

Illya moved back to where he had been standing by his microscope and fiddled with the light knob. "Will they let you continue to work on your own?"

"Waverly has up 'til now, but he's starting to grumble. One of these days I'm sure I'll get called up to his office to be introduced to my new partner." Napoleon let a sour expression cross his face.

"You don't sound too happy about that."

Napoleon raked his fingers through his hair. "If I had the right partner it wouldn't be so bad, but what are the odds of that? I mean, the rest of the agents here are good, but I don't like the idea of trusting my back to just anyone." He pointed at his chest with a thumb. "At least I usually know what I'm thinking."

Illya's lips curled up in a small grin. "Only usually?"

Napoleon nodded, smirking. "Sometimes I surprise myself." He put his new watch on and admired it. "Thanks again for this."

Illya shrugged. "I'd tell you that I hope you don't need to use it, but it sounds like you invite trouble on a regular basis."

Napoleon mock snarled at Illya. "Hey, I resent that remark. No matter how true it is." He slipped his own watch into his pocket. "I better go."

Illya nodded, eying his microscope. "I need to work on this formula anyway."

Napoleon "You free for lunch?"

Illya gave him one of his shy smiles.

Napoleon was captivated again and wished he had a reason to stay. But, he didn't and he still had a report to write. "I'll meet you at noon, then. Okay?"

Illya nodded.

There really wasn't anything else to say, so Napoleon told his feet sternly to head for the door and was relieved when they obeyed him.

*****

Napoleon tried to rein in his temper but he was only nominally successful. "Roberts, all I need you to do is tell me if you have something I can use."

"And I already told you, if you need to cut through that safe, you need an acetylene torch, and if you need an acetylene torch, that's what we have." He pointed to a briefcase which held the torch in question and a canister of gas.

"And I already told you, it's too large. I have to be inconspicuous."

"What could be more inconspicuous than a briefcase?" Roberts objected.

"I'll have to open it up at their security checkpoint. What reason am I supposed to give for carrying an acetylene torch in my briefcase?"

"That's not my problem, Solo. I've told you what we have. That's all anyone would have. If it isn't going to work then it sounds like you need a new plan."

Napoleon chewed the inside of his cheek. What he really needed was Illya, but when he'd come down here yesterday morning to discuss what he needed for this case, his lab was locked, and the man was nowhere to be found. "When is Illya going to be back?"

Roberts' eyes shot daggers at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know? Just because I'm the Chief of this section and supposed to be the commie's boss, do you think anyone tells me anything? No, he just up and vanishes. And when I talk to Waverly, he just tells me to mind my own business, that the little queer is allowed to do as he pleases."

Napoleon's eyes hardened. "The little what?"

"You heard me. Queer. It's not bad enough that the man is a stinking commie, he's also a faggot."

Napoleon tried very, very hard not to punch the man. "Roberts, I already told you that your bigotry is out of place in an organization like this. It's blinded you to the point that you wouldn't recognize talent if it steamrolled right over you."

Roberts gave him a suspicious glare. "You seem to spend a lot of time with him. What's that about? And I hear about the gadgets he's making you. What are you doing for him? Giving him head?"

Napoleon wondered, and not for the first time, why a man like this was still working for U.N.C.L.E.. He started weighing out the possible consequences if he just beat the crap out of Roberts. When he had all but decided that any consequences would be worth the satisfaction he'd derive from the experience, he suddenly saw Illya at the window to Roberts' lab gesturing at him to come out.

Without another word Napoleon pushed past Roberts and followed Illya to his lab. He waited until Illya unlocked the door before he spoke his peace. "Where the hell have you been? I've been having to deal with that--with that--excrement."

Illya grinned at him. "Sorry."

Napoleon snorted. "You don't sound like you're sorry at all."

Illya's eyes twinkled. "I have something for you."

While Napoleon would be thrilled at any gadget Illya gave him, what he really needed what a miniature acetylene torch. He muttered, "I hope it's an acetylene torch."

"It is. A miniature one." Illya took a pen out of his pocket and handed it to Napoleon.

Napoleon gaped at the pen in his hand. "This is a torch?"

Illya nodded. He unscrewed the pen and flipped up the small nozzle. "It doesn't hold much, needless to say, so I made you two." He pulled out another pen. "This one is a mechanical pencil." Using the pencil, he fully demonstrated its torch workings by flipping up the small nozzle and pushing up a switch until a small hissing was heard.

Taking a lighter he flicked it and the torch was lit. "Each one will only last for forty five seconds." He shut off the gas. Reaching into his pocket he took out two small tubes that looked like ink cartridges. "I made two replacement gas canisters." He showed Napoleon how to change it out. "That will give you, seeing as I've just used about four seconds of gas, about two minutes and fifty-six seconds."

Napoleon was speechless. Then his eyes narrowed. "Not that I'm not grateful, but how did you know I needed this?"

"Lucky guess?" Illya said with exaggerated innocence.

Napoleon shook his head. "I fell for that one once already. I only got the case file the day before yesterday and it hasn't been out of my office."

Illya stuck with the innocent look for a couple more seconds. Then he spoiled it all when he said, "Speaking of your office, do you need a good lock pick?"

Napoleon's eyes widened. "Illya, did you break into my office?"

Illya let out a tsk tsk noise. "You really should have Waverly beef up the security in this place, Napoleon. It was ridiculously easy to get in."

"No, the fact is that I shouldn't have to worry about people breaking into my office, especially U.N.C.L.E. employees."

"But if I can get in, Thrush could get in." Then Illya hesitated, his head cocked to one side. "Well, that's probably not true, but the point remains that I was able to get in too easily."

Napoleon blew out a frustrated breath. "That file was top secret. If I reported you, you'd get yanked in front of a security hearing."

Illya shook his head. "I have top security clearance."

Napoleon stared at Illya. "You have top security clearance?"

Illya nodded.

"Why?"

Illya shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"If you have top security clearance, why did you break into my office to see that file? Why didn't you just ask to see it?"

"It wouldn't be as much fun."

Napoleon was speechless, but not for long. "As much fun?" At Illya's nod he let out a short laugh. "Kuryakin, I don't believe I've ever met anyone quite like you." He frowned. "Are you sure you have security clearance?"

"Quite sure. Check with Waverly if you don't believe me."

Napoleon glanced down at the small gadgets in his hand. "So, let me make sure I understand this. You broke into my office to read the case I'm working on. After reading it, you somehow came to the same conclusion as I did that I'd need a miniature torch, and that's why you've been gone, to make me one?"

Illya scrunched his face up. "It does sound a bit farfetched, doesn't it?"

Napoleon was overwhelmed. No one had ever done something like that for him. It was as if Illya had made it his own personal responsibility to make Napoleon succeed at his missions and get home safely. Like Illya was his guardian angel.

Napoleon realized that if anyone else had done this, his sense of privacy would feel invaded. But, somehow with Illya, it just made him feel like his life couldn't be in better hands. A slow smile formed on his face. "Promise me you won't ever go away, all right?"

The smile he got in return was incandescent. "I'll do my best." Illya pointed at the lab next door. "What was Roberts ranting about?"

Napoleon snorted in derision. "Apparently, I'm exchanging sexual favors for your gadgets."

Illya's eyes widened and he looked down at the devices in Napoleon's hand. He grinned at Napoleon mischievously. "It might take you some time to work off these."

Napoleon snickered. Then he gave Illya a glance, remembering what Roberts had said. For a second he wondered if Illya meant it. For a second he found himself considering it. Then he shook it all off. Of course Illya didn't mean it. Napoleon was embarrassed he'd even thought such a thing. And for some reason he didn't choose to explore, he felt a little disappointed.

He met Illya's eyes and saw amusement in the Russian's gaze, almost as if he were following Napoleon's disjointed thoughts. Napoleon rolled his eyes. "I have to leave this afternoon, but when I get back, I owe you dinner." He clenched his fingers around the small torches. "Thanks for these."

Illya waved off his thanks as if it were nothing, as if magically meeting Napoleon's needs was an everyday occurrence. "Just come back in one piece and try not to burn yourself."

Napoleon echoed Illya's earlier words. "I'll do my best." He turned to leave but then he mock glared at the Russian. "And next time? Just ask me for the file, all right?"

Illya just stared at him.

Napoleon sighed and held out his other hand. "While you're plying me with new and revised products you might as well give me whatever lock pick you used. If you can get into my office with it, it's better than anything I have."

Illya pulled out a slender bit of wire from his pocket and handed it to Napoleon.

Napoleon took it and frowned. "This is it? It looks just like a lock pick. I'm disappointed. I would have expected you to disguise it as a tie tack, or a cigar."

Illya flashed him a disgruntled look. "I'm working on it."

Napoleon beamed at him. "My friend, I'm sure you are."

*****

Napoleon made his way up to Waverly's office. Lisa waved him on in. "He's expecting you, Napoleon."

Napoleon gave her one of his most charming smiles and entered his boss's office.

"Yes, Mr. Solo?"

"I wanted to talk to you about Illya Kuryakin."

Waverly gave him a sharp glance. "I do trust you're not going to complain about his place of origin."

Napoleon frowned as he realized that too many people must have been doing that to get Waverly in a snit about it. "No. I think he's great. He's already made me some gadgets that are better than any I've seen. As far as I'm concerned he should be in charge of that lab."

Waverly harrumphed. "I'm glad to hear it. So, what is it you want to say? Or was that it?"

Napoleon cleared his throat. "Does he…ah…does he have top security clearance?"

Waverly sucked on his pipe for a second as he eyed Napoleon. Napoleon tried very hard not to fidget. It was never comfortable to get all of Waverly's regard. "Yes, he does."

Napoleon was relieved to hear that, but he was still confused about it. "May I ask why?"

Waverly tapped out his pipe into his ashtray. "No, you may not."

Napoleon frowned. "May I ask why I may not?"

"No, you may not."

Napoleon sighed. None of this was making sense. The man worked for Roberts but he seemed to answer to Waverly, and Waverly was keeping secrets. Well, Napoleon would see about that. He was a spy, after all.

"Is there anything else, Mr. Solo? I do have one or two things that are calling for my attention."

The sarcasm wasn't lost on Napoleon. "Just one more thing. I need to let you know about Roberts. He's saying some very unpleasant things about Illya. I don't normally rat on my fellow employees but his comments are a bit beyond the pale."

Waverly packed some new tobacco into his pipe. "I'm well aware of Roberts' attitude toward our newest acquisition."

That wasn't good enough. Napoleon knew that Illya would never complain about it and it needed to stop. "Are you going to speak with him?" At Waverly's look, Napoleon saw he'd overstepped his bounds. He stood.

Waverly's voice was dismissive. "I believe you have a mission to attend to."

"Yes, sir." Napoleon quickly left the office before Waverly could give him something unpleasant to do.

*****

One week later, Napoleon was none the wiser. He'd charmed his way into personnel, only to find that they didn't have a file on Illya. Next he used the lock pick Illya had given him and snuck into Roberts' office.

When he managed to get the locked file cabinet open and saw the man's employee files, including one on Illya, he let out a sigh of satisfaction. He lifted it out and sat at Roberts' desk to read it. Napoleon frowned when he opened it and found only loose-leaf paper inside. Curious, he picked up the top sheet and began to read.

He didn't get far before he dropped the page, afraid the virulent ravings on the page might poison him. He cautiously peeked at the other pages and found more of the same. Roberts had written page after page of narrative about Illya, all of it vituperative. Openly hostile, suspicious, casting Illya in a one-man plot to take over New York and then the world, all while engaging in deviant sexual acts.

Napoleon closed the file and rapped his knuckles against his lips. As far as Napoleon was concerned, Roberts' thoughts on Illya declared him as unstable. He debated whether he ought to show this file to Waverly, but then he'd have to explain how it came to be that he was in Roberts' office in the first place. And that meant telling Waverly that he was ignoring his order to leave the issue of Illya alone which wouldn't endear himself to the old man. He decided to leave it alone for the time being. Hopefully Roberts would hang himself if he were given enough rope.

Napoleon stood and slipped the file back in place, relocking the file cabinet, and then Roberts' office door. He stood in the hallway wondering where to look next. If Illya's file wasn't in personnel and it wasn't in Roberts' office, then it meant it was probably in Waverly's office. Napoleon wasn't foolish enough to even think about trying to break into the old man's inner sanctum.

He made a few phone calls to London HQ but that didn't garner him any information. It was as if Illya had just materialized into his U.N.C.L.E. lab. Not that Napoleon wasn't thrilled about that. His gadgets had already helped him succeed in his missions several times over. He'd come home from his last affair without even a scratch.

But it wasn't only the gadgets. Napoleon found himself liking the man more and more. Despite the fact that they were from opposite ends of the earth, Napoleon felt more comfortable with him than with anyone else of his acquaintance.

What he didn't like was having a mystery so close to home. Because it meant that Illya could disappear as easily as he had appeared and that wasn't even remotely okay. Now that Illya was a part of Napoleon's life, he wanted to keep it that way.

*****

Napoleon spent a bit of energy smiling at life's latest ironies, knowing it might be the last thing he ever found amusing. He tried to draw a breath, but there was barely enough oxygen left to feed his starving cells.

He was surrounded by all of Illya's gadgets. His watch with the serrated knife, compass showing he was lying with his feet pointing due south. His exploding cufflinks were at the ready, or one of them at any rate. He had one of the mini torches in his pocket, and Illya's newest gadget, a smoke bomb, hidden in the heel of his shoe.

But none of them would help him now. He was locked in an airtight room. There were no windows, and the one door was steel with an airtight seal and no mechanism to open it from the inside. He'd already tried one of the cufflinks on the door and gotten nothing for it except several minutes of coughing from smoke that had nowhere to go.

This seemed such a stupid way to die. Napoleon assumed his incarceration had something to do with the case he was on, but as he'd been knocked unconscious before being thrown in here, he couldn't be positive who his captor was.

Apparently he wasn't even going to be interrogated, just left here to die. And die he would, probably in a few more minutes. He glanced at his watch, knew that he'd now missed the second arranged check-in time. That meant that U.N.C.L.E. would be out looking for him, but no one knew where he was.

So that meant he was going to die. A surge of anger went through him at his fatalistic attitude. Despite the fact that it was probably true, he couldn't stand the thought of so thoroughly cooperating with whoever had thrown him in here.

He gave the room another cursory look, hoping that maybe he'd missed something the last 100 times he'd done this exercise. Nothing. The room was completely empty, concrete floor, no furniture, no window, and the sealed, featureless door. No vents, nothing.

Napoleon pulled himself across the floor until he was sitting in one of the corners. He found himself thinking of Illya, wondering if the gadget genius himself could find a way to break out of this room. Napoleon wished with all his heart that Illya would just appear. Just materialize into this room the way he had in the lab but with some gizmo that would blow the room to smithereens.

His breaths were coming in little gasps now, and he knew it wouldn't be long before he lost consciousness. His head sinking to his knees, he wondered who would defend Illya from Roberts now if he died in this room.

"Napoleon!"

Napoleon tried to lift his head, but he had no strength left.

"Napoleon! Are you in there?"

Napoleon smiled when he realized who the voice belonged to, but then he frowned. If he was going to hallucinate about Illya, the least he could do was show up inside the room.

"Napoleon, if you can hear me, get away from the door."

At least it sounded as if his hallucination was obliging his wishful thinking by bringing something that would blow the room up. That was nice. The door exploded with a loud bang and slammed into the room. Napoleon was glad he hadn't been sitting there. That would have hurt.

Then Illya was there, shaking his shoulders. "Breathe, Napoleon. Take in a deep breath."

Napoleon was beginning to wonder if maybe this wasn't a hallucination after all. But it had to be, because why would Illya be rescuing him? He decided to play along and drew in a deep breath. He could feel the fresh air entering his body and it made his lungs ache. He let out a groan and dropped his head against Illya's chest.

"That's right, keep breathing."

Napoleon obeyed, feeling safe and warm as Illya's arms supported him. He snuggled in against Illya a little more. After all, this was his hallucination; he could do what he wanted.

He smiled as he felt Illya's hand touch his hair, as he listened to Illya croon at him in Russian. He had no idea what he was saying but it sounded nice.

Napoleon's head began to clear. And as his head cleared, he began to realize that this wasn't a hallucination. That he could breathe, that the door had been blown off his prison, that his rescuer was Illya, and that he was currently practically in the man's lap. And, he didn't particularly want to get off.

But, apparently Illya was monitoring him and could tell he was coming around. He pushed Napoleon away gently until he was sitting against the wall again. "Are you all right?"

Napoleon nodded. He took in the door which was lying askew on the ground. "What'd you use?"

"Hand grenade."

"Who else is here?"

"Just me."

Napoleon shook his head to try to clear away the rest of the cobwebs. "Just you?"

Illya nodded.

"Why?"

"You missed two of your check-ins."

"I know that. But why just you? Where's the rest of the team?"

Illya shrugged. "I suspect they're looking for you in the wrong place."

Napoleon let out an exasperated laugh. "How, and mind you, I'm not complaining, did you happen to know the right place to look?"

Illya tapped Napoleon's watch. "Homing beacon."

Napoleon looked at the watch. "There's a homing beacon in this?"

Illya nodded. "It's a prototype."

"And I'm your guinea pig?"

Another nod. "I didn't think you'd mind."

Napoleon grinned at Illya. His guardian angel had struck again. "No, I don't mind." He glanced out the open door. "Did you see anyone when you came in?"

Illya shook his head. "I didn't do a complete search as I was homing in on your signal but no one tried to stop me from getting in."

Napoleon let his head fall back against the wall. "I don't suppose it occurred to you to let one of the agents know about the watch and let them come and get me? If there'd been enemy agents here you could have been killed."

"It occurred to me."

"Let me guess. It wouldn't have been as much fun, right?"

Illya flashed him a grin.

Napoleon shook his head in mock dismay. "Illya, Illya, Illya, what am I going to do with you?" Then a thought occurred to him. "How did you know I missed two of my check-ins?" He pointed a warning finger at the man. "And don't tell me it was a lucky guess."

He was amazed when Illya's face reddened and turned away.

Napoleon reached out a hand and grabbed Illya's chin, turning his head back to face him. "Do you always keep track of me when I'm on a mission?"

The red grew deeper and Illya jerked his head out of Napoleon's hand. "I think it's time to go, don't you?"

Napoleon supposed it was. After all, he still had a mission to finish. "I need to look around, see if they left any clues."

Illya stood and gave Napoleon a helping hand to stand up. "I will help you."

Napoleon guessed it was safe enough. "I don't suppose you saw my gun and communicator lying around anywhere, did you?"

Illya shook his head. At Napoleon's scowl he gave Napoleon a dry smile. "At least they left you your watch."

Napoleon slung his arm around Illya's shoulder. "That they did, my very clever Russian, that they did."

*****

Three days later, his gun and communicator successfully stolen back from the Thrush agent who had taken them, wearing a grin due to the successful demise of another satrapy, Napoleon made his way down to Illya's lab. He peered in the window and lost his grin when he saw Roberts in with Illya, apparently giving Illya a piece of his mind.

Illya's face was as stony as Napoleon had ever seen it, which seemed to be infuriating Roberts. Napoleon could hear him yell, "Are you listening to me?"

Napoleon had to grin at Illya's response even if he knew it wouldn't score the Russian any points. "It would be difficult not to."

Napoleon watched as Roberts' face grew beet red. The explosion was not pretty. "Listen you goddamn commie bastard, if you think you can come in here and play traitor with no one the wiser, you're out of your damn mind. I'm watching you." Roberts punctuated his angry words with a finger that poked at Illya's chest.

With a quick motion, Illya shoved the hand away. "Do not touch me."

Napoleon couldn't believe Roberts stayed there. If anyone had looked at him the way Illya was looking at Roberts, Napoleon would have either started to run or drawn his gun. But Roberts was almost frothing at the mouth and beyond caring. He shoved Illya, hard enough to push him against the counter. "I'll touch you if I goddamn want to. Don't you ever tell me--"

Napoleon didn't need to see or hear anymore of this. He prodded the door open. "Oh, am I interrupting?"

Roberts spun to face him, sneering. "Oh, it's the fucking commie lover."

Napoleon counted to five in hopes it would keep him from slugging Roberts. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the door. "Out."

"You're not CEA, Solo, in fact, you're far from it. You're just a lowly agent. I'm the Director of this lab and that means I can be wherever the hell I want in it."

Napoleon opened his mouth but Illya beat him to it with an angry look. "Napoleon, keep out of it." He turned to Roberts. "Get out, now. If you don't like it, take it up with Mr. Waverly."

"Oh, sure. Throw that in my face. What the hell did you do to talk him into letting you come here? Do you suck his cock, you goddamn queer?" Something in Illya's face must have finally gotten through because a flash of panic crossed Roberts' face and he barreled his way out the door.

When he was gone, Illya turned back to Napoleon. "I do not need you to fight my battles for me."

Napoleon shot his cuffs and adjusted his tie, trying to let the adrenaline fade a little. "Seeing as how you're always watching my back, it seems the least you could do is allow me the right to do the same every now and then."

Illya blew out an exasperated breath. "It is bad enough he hates me, now he will just hate you too."

Napoleon let out a short laugh. "Sorry to burst your bubble, Tovarisch, but he's never liked me either. We're in this one together."

That got a quick grin out of Illya. "I've been with worse company."

Napoleon sketched out a bow. "Why, thank you, kind sir." He turned to the door. "Want to go get some lunch?"

Illya took off his lab coat, and shrugged into his suit jacket. "As long as we eat somewhere Roberts can't slip poison into our food."

Napoleon let out a rueful laugh. "Good thinking. Let's go out to eat."

*****

Napoleon sat at the oval table, waiting for his boss to finish up his call. When Waverly was done, he harrumphed and furrowed his brow. "Yes, Mr. Solo, what can I do for you?"

"It's Roberts, sir. He continues to harass Illya, and I think it's bordering on violence."

"Yes, yes, you've shared this with me before."

"I think it's getting worse."

"I'll take it under advisement. Is there anything else?"

"I'd like to know what you intend to do about Roberts."

Waverly flashed Napoleon one of his looks. "I do not believe this matter concerns you."

"But--"

"You've brought the matter to my attention. Now, if there's nothing else." Waverly rose to retrieve a file.

Napoleon rose also, frustrated with how this conversation was going. He didn't trust Roberts, and he sure as hell didn't like how he treated Illya. He tried one more time. "I thought you wanted a Russian scientist here."

Waverly looked up and frowned. "Are you still here, Mr. Solo?"

"Yes, sir."

Waverly followed the conversation back to the question. "I do. That's why Mr. Kuryakin is with us."

"So--" Napoleon tried to ask the question as respectfully as possible, "why do you allow someone like Roberts to undermine him?" He sincerely hoped he hadn't pushed too far. Napoleon had caught on pretty quickly that Waverly didn't like being questioned. But he'd be damned if he didn't try to do as good a job protecting the man who spent so much of his time protecting him.

Waverly gave him a long and pointed look, but Napoleon stayed his ground. When Waverly completely changed the subject, Napoleon wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or relieved. "Have you given any thought to a partner?"

Napoleon let out a small sigh. "No, sir."

"Perhaps your time might be better spent in that direction. If you do not have someone chosen by the end of the month, I'll choose someone for you."

Napoleon thought about complaining for a moment and then decided he'd get thrown out on his ear. As Waverly seemed to be focusing completely on the file in his hands, Napoleon let himself out.

*****

The next day as Napoleon made his way down to the lab, he realized that he was starting most of his days like this. At least the days he was at headquarters. His day just seemed to flow better after stopping in to visit with his Russian genius.

The thought stopped Napoleon in his tracks for a moment. It hadn't really occurred to him how quickly he'd become accustomed to having Illya in his life. He saw him first thing in the morning, had lunch with him when they were both free. At least once or twice a week they went out for dinner or went to listen to music. Napoleon grinned. He spent more time with Illya than everyone else combined.

He'd never had anyone just steal their way into his life so easily. It was a bit disconcerting. For a few seconds Napoleon thought about going to his office and skipping the routine visit. He wasn't sure he liked his dependency on Illya; Napoleon worked hard at keeping all his relationships on a surface level. But somehow Illya had gotten past all his alarm systems. Napoleon muttered, "I might as well be dating him."

One of the secretaries looked up in passing. "Did you say something, Napoleon?" She had a hopeful look on her face.

Napoleon looked at her while he decided whether he'd rather be with her or with Illya. He let out a quiet snort. No contest. "No. No. Just muttering to myself." Wanting to avoid any other conversation, he headed to where his heart had already been leading him--to the lab.

When he approached the door, he heard conversation and wondered if he'd be breaking up another altercation between Illya and Roberts. Despite his complaints to Waverly, it didn't seem as if anything had changed. Roberts was as vitriolic as ever.

But when Napoleon pushed open the door, Illya was talking to another Section Two agent, a man named Bellingham. Napoleon felt a surge of something unpleasant wash through him when he saw Illya handing Bellingham a pair of exploding cufflinks.

Bellingham closed his fists over them. "Thanks, Dr. Kuryakin. You're the best. These are so much better than the last model." Still smiling, he turned and saw Napoleon. "Hey Solo. I see you've found the best place to come for gadgets, hmm? This guy's a damn genius." With another nod of thanks at Illya, Bellingham left.

Napoleon tried to figure out what he was feeling. He normally liked Bellingham. He was good-natured and knew how to handle himself out in the field. If Bellingham didn't already have a partner, Napoleon might have considered him for that role. But right now, all he wanted to do was run after him, take those cufflinks back, and tell him to stay away from Illya.

He could see himself doing it. Saw himself grabbing Bellingham's hand, snatching the cufflinks, brandishing them in his fist as he yelled, 'Mine, mine, mine.'

"Are you all right?"

"Hmmm?" Napoleon looked up to find Illya's blue eyes gazing at him with some concern. His little fantasy must have taken longer than he'd realized. "Yeah, sure, why?"

Illya shook his head. "Never mind."

Napoleon moved to the counter and leaned against it. "I didn't realize you were making gadgets for other agents." He hoped he was coming across with the right degree of indifference.

Illya raised his eyebrows. His voice was dry when he spoke. "I hardly think Waverly would find it efficient to hire me to make gadgets exclusively for you."

Napoleon frowned. "No, I suppose not. I just--" He just what? Thought that Illya was only his? Thought that Illya was just making gadgets for him? Maybe Illya watched out for all the agents. Maybe he rescued all of them from certain death. Maybe he should have asked whatshername for a date.

"Napoleon? Are you sure you're all right?"

Illya's touch on his upper arm brought his train of thought to an abrupt stop. When Napoleon saw the large hand curled around his triceps, a lick of heat flushed through him. Illya was alarmingly close to him. Too close. Not close enough. Napoleon shook his head in frustration. "I'm fine. I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night."

Illya gave him a considered look and then moved to open his magic drawer; the one that contained gadgets that Napoleon used to imagine belonged only to him. Illya drew out a lighter. "I made something new."

Napoleon looked at it, some of the wonder of it lost in his jealousy. "Did you give one to Bellingham, too?" He almost cringed at the whine in his voice.

Illya's fingers closed around the lighter and his head cocked to the side as he scrutinized Napoleon. Napoleon felt like something on one of Illya's slides. Then Illya took Napoleon's hand and placed the lighter in it. "No. I told you that you were my guinea pig. I try them out on you. If you like them, I make them available for the other agents."

That made Napoleon feel marginally better. But not completely. "So, do you--do you break into everyone's office?" He closed his eyes, willing the blush he felt heating his face to go away, annoyed at how needy he felt. He was definitely spending too much time down here.

He felt a touch on his face and he opened his eyes to find affectionate eyes staring at him, Illya's fingers grazing the cleft of his chin. When Napoleon's eyes met Illya's, the Russian's lips curved in a gentle smile and he dropped his hand. "No, Napoleon. I only break into your office."

Even through his jealousy Napoleon could appreciate how silly the conversation was. He grinned at Illya. "Yeah, well, keep it that way. You never know where those other office doors have been."

Illya rolled his eyes. "May I show you how this works now or do you need further reassurance that I live and breathe only for you?"

The tone and the expression were pure sarcasm but the words made their way into Napoleon's ears and lodged inside his heart. He wished he knew what was going on in Illya's head, if there was any truth at all to the sentence he'd just spoken.

Napoleon glanced at the lighter. "Let me guess. It's a lighter."

"Very clever." Illya scooped it off Napoleon's palm. With a few adjustments, he handed it back to Napoleon. "It's a gun. A small gun, I'll grant you, and it only holds two bullets of fairly small caliber, but it might come in handy."

Napoleon gave Illya an admiring look. "I like it." He held it up, aiming.

Illya scrounged around in the drawer and came up with two bullets. He demonstrated loading it. Then he dragged Napoleon across the room to where he had some heavy padding against the wall. "You need to be close for it to penetrate any distance." He pointed at the padding. "Shoot it."

Napoleon took him at his word, ignored his small wish that the bullet would punch through the wall and accidentally hit Roberts, and fired. The gun barely recoiled and, after checking, he saw that the bullet punctured but didn't make it through the padding. He would have to be close. But even one of these bullets at close range would put someone out of commission long enough for him to get away or finish the job with something else.

Napoleon fired again, this time checking its aim. Satisfied, Napoleon closed the mechanism up. Then he clicked open the lid to the lighter and flicked it. He flashed Illya a grin when a small flame resulted. "Illya, my friend, you've outdone yourself. I owe you another dinner."

Illya opened the drawer and handed him two more bullets. "These are the la