Prince Abaddon was unhappy which made him dangerous. The main reason for his unhappiness was currently quaking in her shoes as she faced his wrath.
"My Prince, I am so sorry! I had no idea who she was!" she cried as she tried to explain.
"Silence! We approach the most important Black Mass of the year and instead of spending my time properly preparing, I am bouncing all over southern England to avoid capture by UNCLE!" He walked closer to the woman he was addressing. Leaning down to stroke her face he said, "Now, Lilith, what do you think I should do to punish you? If you hadn't grabbed that rich man's daughter, I wouldn't be in this predicament. I can't go near my home or my safe houses as UNCLE has found out the names of my shell companies that are listed as the property owners. I now have to find another place to hold my Mass." He drew his index fingernail sharply across her neck, leaving a deep scratch.
Lilith gasped at the sudden pain. "Please, My Prince, let me help you! I know the perfect place for the ceremony!"
"Do you now?" He was a tall, heavyset man and when he hunkered down in front of her, he looked like a beast about to leap. The fact that his eyes were glowing red didn't make her feel any better. "Do tell."
"There's a deconsecrated church in a deserted medieval village located outside of Exeter. It's large enough to accommodate everyone. The alter is the perfect size, I measured it myself. I was going to tell you about it as an offering to you."
Prince Abaddon straightened up and paced to the opposite side of the room. "And now, you offer it in exchange for your life? I admit, it's very good, but it's not enough." He held out his hand toward her and closed it into a fist.
Lilith began to gasp and choke. She slid out of the chair and he watched as the life faded from her eyes. When she was dead he said, "You will make up for all this unwanted attention by creating a diversion."
"Well, that didn't go too well," Napoleon said. He and Illya were driving back to their hotel after a meeting at Scotland Yard during which Napoleon had advanced his theory and been shot down by the snickering detectives.
"To be fair, Napoleon, if they had come to us with such a theory, we, especially I, would have laughed them out the door. They did not do that."
"They might as well have. We're definitely on our own with this, Partner Mine."
Just then, Napoleon's communicator trilled. Assembling it quickly, he answered, "Solo here."
"Hello, Agent Solo, Miss Taylor here. An anonymous tip was called into a constabulary in Northern England that I thought might interest you. The tipster said there was some kind of Satanic ritual being conducted in a deserted village outside of Carlisle. When they arrived, no one was there except a female corpse dressed in a sheath with feathers in her hair and beads and Baphomet pendants hanging from her neck. That pendant is usually a goat's head inside of a pentagram. It is said to embody Satan. The body was found lying on the alter."
"Has she been identified?"
"Not to my knowledge, no."
"Thank you, Miss Taylor. It would be very helpful to know who she is. Please stay in touch with those officers and when and if they identify her, please let me know. Solo out." He disassembled the device without saying goodbye, a fact not lost on Illya.
"It is not your fault, Napoleon. How could we know that Abaddon would hold his last Black Mass in Northern England?"
"Then why do I feel like it is? I don't know how to strategize against the supernatural and Satanism! This woman lost her life! The least we can do is see that she is identified and her family notified. If the Carlisle police can't do it, I want UNCLE to step in and get the job done."
The Russian took his right hand and patted his partner's shoulder. "We will find out who she is and we will find Abaddon."
