Napoleon wiped sweat from his forehead as he looked around the POW camp that had been his "home" for the last two months and wondered for the hundredth time if his famous Solo Luck had finally run its course. When he had been captured by Generalissimo Chavez, he had been pleasantly surprised that the aspiring Latin dictator was not really interested in pulling UNCLE secrets out of his brain. "I am not interested in that sort of thing," he had said, "What I need right now are laborers. That is what you will be, Senor. All of you will build my presidential palace."
The "all" he was referring to were a group of men who, like Napoleon, had been snatched away from their lives by Chavez' goons to provide him with free labor. When a few of the men defied him and said they refused to be his slaves, they were shot on the spot. It was then Napoleon decided that discretion was the better part of valor and he would work until Illya found him.
Every day, for twelve hours a day, he and the other men were force – marched to where Chavez had decided his palace would be to dig the foundation, pour cement, clear forest and whatever else the guards demanded of them. They were given just enough food and water to keep from dying, but some of them managed to do it, anyway. Between the hundred degree heat, the onerous humidity and the insects, it really was about survival of the fittest.
Napoleon was one of the fittest, if not the fittest captive there, but he was reaching the end of his endurance. At the end of each day, they were marched back to the camp that had been built apparently to house Chavez' workforce and Napoleon would grab a bowl of rice and beans before going to sleep. When he first arrived, he would try to go outside, but there were too many guards to evade.
This morning, the guards awoke them at six AM and got them ready to go to work. As usual, they were shoved into line and readied to go. Suddenly, a loud explosion reached them and as they looked in the direction of the sound, they saw a huge fireball and thick black smoke billowing from the place where Napoleon knew Chavez' "palace" to be.
"Aiiiieee! Mi casa esta en fuego! (My house is on fire!) Put it out! Put it out!" Chavez screamed in agony and grief. The guards began to run toward the fence when Napoleon began to hear the familiar phttt of UNCLE specials shooting sleep darts. His fellow prisoners began to scatter to the four winds when they saw their captors dropping like flies. Napoleon dropped to the ground and tried to melt into it while the chaos continued around him.
Just as things seemed to be quieting down, a voice right next to him said, "You are not the easiest person to find in a jungle, Napoleon."
He moved his head to see his partner, gun in hand, standing over him. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you," he said as he stood. "What the hell took you so long?"
The blond shrugged. "It is one thing to track you down when THRUSH has you or some mad man. It is quite another when a run of the mill crazy person has you. Section III noticed a pattern of men going missing in this part of South America and thought you might have been caught up in it. Sure enough, when we expanded our net to look at several abductions, we were able to zero in on this general area. UNCLE will help the survivors here get home and turn this Generalissimo over to the local authorities. Are you finished wallowing in the dirt so we can go home or have you become attached to this place?"
"I am so ready to go home and I'm so happy to see you, Partner Mine!" he exclaimed as he threw his arm around the Russian and when the blond began to cringe, he gripped him tighter.
"Chyort, Napoleon! You smell like a ram! Let go of me!"
Napoleon laughed loudly as he let his suffering partner go. "I guess I'm the filthy one now! Let's get out of here."