Agnès Ormond slid gracefully into the back seat, easily fitting next to Napoleon as he sat slumped in his drug induced stupor. Illya was on the other side, leaning against the door as the sedan sped into the Paris traffic and then out of the city.

Von Etske viewed the three people curiously from his twisted position in the front. His driver had remained with him after letting off the other two men who had been complicit in the kidnapping of the UNCLE agents. They would meet them at his hideaway later. For now, handling the two men who had ruined his and Gurnius' quest for greatness would not be difficult to handle. Agnès was likewise under his control, her actions the result of his instruction while she functioned at the whim of his beautiful creation.

The idea of utilizing a pleasant fragrance as a vehicle for his mind altering formula had been his first foray back into his first love; the events in San Rico had stifled his creativity for months, his grief over lost opportunity taking him into a despondent mood that had only been overcome by the discovery his daughter.

She was a beauty, as had been her mother. The memory of that woman was one of thankfulness and regret. She had left him, taking the child with her, when his involvement with the Nazis had been discovered. His wife had been French, and not one who sympathized with the enemy. She had managed to disappear and, according to Agnès, remarried shortly afterwards. After the war, her new husband had been in a position to make some profitable business moves and had left her with a considerable fortune when he died.

This 'fortune', the one now left to Agnès, was the source of Von Etske's funding. He had maneuvered her into his clutches and was now siphoning off her money in pursuit of vengeance and a still active desire for some type of domination in the world. His entrance into the fashion world had been via his beautiful daughter, whose many social contacts included men like Cebollero and others of note among the fashion elite, as well as politically well-placed individuals.

Utilizing his new discovery among her friends and acquaintances had been a simple thing, and the obvious message sent to UNCLE had netted him the desired response: Solo and Kuryakin.

Now, watching the UNCLE agents sleep off the sedative while his daughter sat mute and, seemingly, unthinking, the old man visualized the outcome once more. He would send these two back to New York well conditioned to do his bidding, feeding false information into the network and sending back to him everything he needed to topple the giant law enforcement agency.

They had underestimated him, as had Gurnius and certainly the bastard organization known as Thrush. They would have done well to keep him as an associate, but it was too late now. He would have his vengeance on that group as well. Had they handled things better in the first place, and not sent that imbecile Brown, everything might have turned out differently. As it stood now, it was up to him to set things right. Marshall Gurnius would have approved.

The drive took just over an hour, and as they pulled into the little pathway that served as a drive for the cottage beyond, the men in the back were stirring. Napoleon reached for his head, the thought of somehow rubbing away the ache hampered by the discovery that he was handcuffed to his partner. Illya flinched involuntarily at the jostling, groaning audibly as the pain in his own head superceded the previous headache he'd endured for two days.

Agnès remained un-attentive, her eyes staring off into some unknown scene. Napoleon looked at the woman, a quizzical expression covering the handsome features even as he responded to the moan from his friend on the other side. Caught between them, he realized, finally, that they were in a car and that looking at him from behind the seatback was the fugitive they'd been after since before San Rico.

"Dr. Von Etske, I presume."

The lack of respect was evident in the flippant remark, and Von Etske determined that he would deal with Solo first, in spite of his hatred for the man who had masqueraded as the young Nexor. Perhaps the most misery could be inflicted by letting him watch the process as the American was subjected to the formula, the anticipation of his own endurance vexing him.

"You and your partner thought yourselves to be so clever, so superior in both skill and purpose. You see now, do you not, that I am the better man. I survived, and now I will still have my moment of conquest. I have the means by which to control those who control the world, the financial institutions…all of it, Mr. Solo."

Napoleon thought the man had the same disease common to most villains and Thrush madmen: he liked to hear himself talk.

The interior of the car was dimly lit, but as they pulled up to the cottage where Von Etske did his work, the lights began to flicker and a large opening appeared in front of them, the ground giving way to an entrance that led them down beneath the house and into a well lit, concrete structure. Three more men were waiting, guns in hand, motioning the car forward until they signaled for the driver to stop.

Illya was just becoming fully alert, and his eyes widened as he took in the sight of their surroundings. This was a well executed plan, obviously. Von Etske had done this in a relatively short amount of time, less than a year by his estimation. Unless…

"How long have you had this waiting for use, Von Etske? I doubt you could have had it built in the time since we last met."

The scientist grinned, nodding his head and pleased at the effect his marvelous facility was having on these two.

"Yes, Gurnius and I planned all along to have this as a back up, in case… Well, you understand. Nexor knew of it also, and would have come here with me had you not killed him. You, Mr. Kuryakin, ruined everything. You are going to pay for that now."

Illya's face remained passive except for the almost unseen response to the pain he was experiencing. Napoleon recognized it, wondered how long Illya could hold out against torture with an already severe reaction to the doctor's formula of sedation. How much could they learn from Von Etske before they were under the drug's influence?

As they were hauled from the car through the door on Illya's side, Napoleon reckoned they would find out pretty soon.