"A cat's eyes are windows enabling us to see into another world."

-Your friend is here, Illya...

Amused, Napoleon Solo studied the cat. She had stopped and stood in the doorway. Her ears pricked up, she was obviously looking around, registering the least detail.

-Cleopatra could be a good recruit. Look at her : she assesses the risks. A very careful lady.

« Napoleon » was unpredictable. However, he was on the right track. Then, she jumped onto the table. A standing, lithe jump. Napoleon Solo, impressed, whistled.

-No run up.

-No.

And Il-ly-a served up her dinner. As he put her plate on the table, Napoleon Solo frowned.

-Here ?

Cleopatra looked daggers at him. His cheeks and his chin were dangerously close... First, she ate properly. Secondly...

-The Pharaoh's cats usually ate in their master's plate, Napoleon. Gold plate, of course.

-Of course...

Il-ly-a knew that. She blinked at him and started to eat. A sophisticated cat. Unhurriedly. She didn't devour. She ate. And, of course, "Napoleon" commented.

-Classy !

She resisted. She didn't put out her tongue. You whispered, my friend, but I heard you.

The older agent ignored the cat and rubbed his chin..

-You were joking, weren't you ?

-About ?

-The ca... Cleopatra. You can't seriously believe that her master taught her the secret. A cat doesn't speak. She doesn't write.

Cleopatra shrugged her shoulders, and chose to ignore the insult. She sighed, coming up to her favorite. She took her Bastet's posture. Her golden eyes met « Napoleon »'s.

-I am not sure she really likes me, you know...

At last, they were asleep. Cleopatra smiled. She was fully awake.

The Thrush man hated Uncle. He hated all the Uncle agents. That was clear. He hated cats. All the cats. This one, especially. « She » had to be kept alive... « she » ? An animal. A cat is an animal. Period. Nothing more. « She »... The creature was probably soundly asleep on its cushion. In the Uncle HQ... or anywhere else. Lucky cat... He would spend the whole night in his car. Just in case. He had orders. Watch, and look for the cat ! Yes sir... Good night, sir.

Whiskers stopped, worried, and raised the left foreleg. Paw imitated the move.

-Look at this man... He is watching. I don't like it. At night, human race usually sleeps.

Napoleon softly snored in his bed. Good Napoleon... She trotted silently towards her escort's bedroom, and leaped on the bed. She stared at Il-ly-a. Fixedly. He would have been a beautiful Pharaoh. Well, a blond one. Why not ?

He was pleasantly dozing. The heat could have been oppressive, but a gentle breeze cooled it down. Peace, calm, and silence. No... He could now hear some distant sounds. He sighed and opened his eyes. Above him, he saw tall trees. A grove of trees. He stood up and brushed his tunic. His tunic ?

What... ? Where... ? He looked around. That was not his bedroom. Next to him stood a sort of shrine. He had no choice and silently came closer. It was a temple. A large road, paved with stones, led to the Nile. The Nile ? He heard now voices and music. Songs, flute, and... sistrum. Sistrum ? He didn't know the place, but in a way, all was familiar. Uncomfortable feeling... He took some steps forward, sheltering himself behind the trees. The Nile was covered by boats. Men and women singing, dancing...

-Welcome in Bubastis, Il-ly-a...

A soft feminine voice. Gentle. Tentative. He startled anyway and turned to the women. In front of him, in the shrine, a statue. A beautiful statue. The goddess Bastet.

-Listen to me, Il-ly-a.

Napoleon Solo was thirsty. He walked carefully. The cat... He cursed. The cat wasn't on the couch. She had a rare skill in getting lost. Where was she ? He lifted up cushions, looked under the couch, on the bookshelves. He suddenly hit a chair which of course came crushing down. He froze. No reaction. For once, his partner lacked watchfulness. A soft feminine voice startled him. Soft, suppressed, but obviously upset.

-Would you please, Napoleon, stop fussing around ?

He turned to the woman. A severe Abyssinian cat, standing on the coffee table, looked at him, up and down. She inclined her head. Napoleon Solo shivered.

-You... you are a cat. Cats don't speak.

Cleopatra smiled with indulgence.

-Do they ?