The Three Goddesses Affair Volume 2

by joea64

The Grand Prix Affair, sequel to Three Goddesses Affair. In this installment, our heroes and the goddesses Belldandy, Urd and Skuld visit a Scandinavian country to investigate a Thrush plot. Crossover with Oh My Goddess!

THE THREE GODDESSES AFFAIR, VOLUME 2

THE GRAND PRIX AFFAIR

(As before, most characters and situations in this story created by Norman Felton and Sam Rolfe; "Ah! My Goddess"/"Oh My Goddess!" characters created by Kosuke Fujishima. The character known as Habib Tufik - and many other names - created by Peter Leslie. Inspiration for the Thrush Central scenes and Section A taken from David McDaniel. Inspiration is also gratefully acknowledged to other fanfic authors such as Bill Koenig (for his "Timeshift" series portraying our heroes in today's world), Cindy Walker, Linda Cornett (especially for her portrayal of Angelique in "The Devil's Slingshot Affair"), et al. Thanks to everyone who commented favorably on "The Three Goddesses Affair" and gave me the encouragement I needed to create this sequel, and to the commenters on the drafts of this new story(especially Bruce Klaiss). And of course, I wish to thank the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, without whose cooperation this story could not have been written.)

TEASER

SOMEWHERE IN GRONINGEN

KINGDOM OF THE NETHERLANDS

The Corvette purred into the nearly empty warehouse and glided to a stop, its brakes hissing quietly. The well-tuned engine shut off, the door opened, and a pair of shapely legs sheathed in black nylon and perched atop four-inch, gold-tipped stiletto heels slid out.

The legs were followed by the rest of a breathtaking body with a classic hourglass contour encased in an expensive Dior suit. Then came an elegant coif of platinum blond hair, worn shoulder-length under a wide-brimmed black picture hat and framing a perfect oval face with a full mouth that seemed to pout as if begging for a kiss. Modish sunglasses were removed, revealing large, tip-tilted, catlike eyes of a clear, arresting china-blue framed by long, feathery lashes.

This blonde vision paused, extended one long leg and regarded it critically, then reached down and straightened the seam of her stocking, running her gloved hand up and down her well-turned calf to smooth the sheer fabric. She straightened, adjusted the fox stole tossed casually over one shoulder, and swayed to a locked door, which she opened with a key fished from her patent-leather purse, and walked regally down an ugly, bare corridor, her high heels clicking on the unfinished concrete.

At the end of the corridor waited a checkpoint manned by several men and women in grey fatigues and black berets; they all wore shoulder flashes featuring a stylized, angry bird done in black on white. One of the uniformed men raised his hand, and the blonde stopped.

"Retina and handprint scan, please," he said. The blonde nodded assent and bent her head, pressing her right eye into the rubber cup of an electronic device. A wash of green light played across the visible portion of her face, and another green light blinked on the device's readout console. She then pressed her right hand to the platen of another device, which sent a beam of whitish light rather like a scanner's across the displayed palm; another green light shone on the console. The man nodded.

"Identity confirmed, Ms. La Chien. Welcome to Central."

Angelique La Chien nodded graciously to the Thrush soldiers and, rolling her rounded hips provocatively, walked through the sliding door into Thrush Central. The soldiers gazed after her, admiring the motion of her rounded rump and the twinkling of her razor-straight stocking seams.

Several mazy corridors full of people in civilian clothing and the uniform of Thrush's military arm later, she reached her destination. A handsome young Middle Eastern woman in a neat gray uniform looked up from her PC. "Good evening, Ms. La Chien. The Doctor is expecting you; please go straight in." Angelique nodded her thanks and walked through one more sliding door.

The room she stood in was Spartan, though what few furnishings existed were tasteful and expensive. Several tables lined along the walls were filled with various items of scientific and electronic equipment, a credenza stood in one corner, and a large teakwood desk with several leather chairs surrounding it dominated the room. Angelique's eyes were fixed on the person sitting behind the desk, who now rose to her feet and waved the Thrush agent to a chair with a gracious smile.

"Good evening, Dr. Egret," Angelique said. "I came from Kronholm directly I got your summons."

"And promptly so," replied the scientist/Thrush executive. The attractive brunette stood up from her desk, laced her hands behind her back and started to pace. "How does Operation Elsinore stand?"

Angelique's right eyebrow rose a bit. "I feel sure it was in the most recent operations summary," she answered, "but even so, we're very close to putting it all together. We have our agents seeded in all the major political parties, with instructions to frustrate any attempt to form a government when the current one falls - a vote of no confidence in Parliament is expected soon - and we have the proverbial short list of candidates for the Prime Ministership who will be amenable to our directives." She smiled slowly. "I confess to some particular pride in that; I - er - personally vetted the candidates."

Dr. Egret chuckled briefly. "I don't doubt you found it enjoyable."

"Somewhat," Angelique replied dismissively. "Frankly, elective politicians make rather inferior lovers, as a rule."

"No doubt. However, we wander off the subject - and the reason I called you here. The Ultimate Computer has reviewed all the relevant information, run its correlation and flowchart programs, and reached a new determination." She pushed a printout page across the desk to Angelique, who picked it up and read it, paused, then read it again. Angelique looked up at the Doctor, anger sparking in her eyes. Dr. Egret raised a forestalling, almost conciliatory hand.

"There is no - repeat, no - obloquy imputed to you because of this change, Angelique," she said. "Your record is superb and you've done an exemplary job on this project. Nonetheless, UlComp - and the Council - have concluded that the success of this operation requires a senior hand in control of the tiller. I," she concluded, indicating herself, "have been elected." She picked up another sheet of paper and handed it to Angelique. "The formal orders. You're to continue as my second-in-command."

Angelique took the orders, scanned them, then took a deep breath. A red spot of anger still flamed in either cheek, but her face and voice were otherwise perfectly even as she replied, "As the Council directs. I am at your disposal, Doctor."

Dr. Egret nodded. "Very good. For now, I should like you to return to Kronholm and prepare things for my arrival. I should be there in a couple of days - and by the end of this month, Gotland will be - in its entirety - a Thrush Satrapy." She broke into a brilliant smile, which Angelique, somewhat unwillingly, returned. She then stretched out her hand, which Angelique took briefly and released. "I look forward to working with you, Angelique. I feel sure you have much to do. Dismissed." Angelique straightened, nodded once, then wheeled and walked out, her stiletto heels clicking with still-suppressed anger.

Dr. Egret raised an eyebrow, then turned at the sound of laughter. A new person stepped out of the shadows. Another woman, she was dressed most oddly indeed, in an outfit that made her look something like a biker with delusions of Gothhood. Her hair was golden-blonde, and she had exceptionally pale skin; triangular markings in red stood out under her crimson eyes, and two long, angry slashes in red cut down to a point just between her eyebrows. She was grinning, her elongated canines exposed.

"Well, Marller, did that meet with your approval?" Egret asked archly.

"It certainly did. HO HO HO HO HO!" A big, rolling laugh bounced off the concrete walls. "Another friend of those pusillanimous, goody-goody goddesses made unhappy! It's a sight to warm the cockles of any first-class demoness' heart, I can tell you!" Marller laughed again.

"Remember our bargain, though, Marller," warned the Doctor.

"Oh, never fear," replied the demoness, waving her hand airily. "Your Thrush gets a country of its own - though why you need land for a country I don't quite see, you've got everything else already - and I get to really make Belldandy and her sisters unhappy. Heh heh heh heh." She rubbed her hands gleefully.

Dr. Egret smiled coldly, saying nothing.

ACT I - "Too bad. OUR pistols aren't empty."

SOMEWHERE IN THE EAST FORTIES

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

The small party walking down the street didn't look like the type of people who usually had business in this part of New York. The single male in the party was young, Japanese, pleasant-looking with a rather spiky haircut; the three women were all young, of wildly varying appearance but yet obviously closely related. The oldest had gleaming silver hair, worn long and straight, golden-brown skin and slanting, seductive green eyes. The second woman, appearing a few years younger, had a great deal of shining light-brown hair swept back in a huge ponytail and huge, gentle blue eyes. The youngest woman, a girl barely into her teens really, had a great waterfall of raven-black hair and wide brown eyes.

All four of these people proceeded briskly to the tailor shop in the middle of the block, whose sign proclaimed it as belonging to one Del Floria. The young man opened the door for the ladies accompanying him, its bell jingling as he did so. The middle-aged man at the presser looked up, his look divided between polite welcome and mild puzzlement. "Help you folks?" he asked.

"Good morning!" the young woman in the middle answered for the group, with a bright, warm smile. "We're here to see Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin. We were passing through New York in the middle of our trip and contacted them, and they invited us to drop by."

"Uh...who's that?" Del Floria responded in seeming puzzlement, as he surreptitiously pressed a button under the counter.

"Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin," the young woman repeated. She smiled even more brightly and winked at Del Floria. "It's OK, we know you have to act like you don't know who they are. We'll wait, there ought to be a call coming through for you in a couple of minutes." She nodded to the phone.

Del Floria stared in considerable skepticism at the young woman, then his expression changed to surprise as the phone rang. He picked it up. "Yeah. Yes, they're standing right in front of me. A young guy and three girls, you oughta be able to see 'em...What's that? They're OK? You're sure? OK, whatever you say. I'll send 'em on through." He hung up the phone and turned to the visitors.

"OK, they say you're good to go. Just walk to the back, go in the dressing room and..."

"...Turn the coat hook. Yes, I know, I want to see how that works. It sounds cool!" enthused the black-haired girl.

"Uh, yes," Del Floria answered, somewhat at a loss. He waved them on. "You go ahead, now."

The four young people duly walked into the dressing room as instructed, the young man pulling the curtain shut behind them. It was quite crowded with four people, but they paid it no mind as the silver-haired beauty, who was the tallest among them, reached up and turned the coat hook with a smooth, decisive movement. There was a click and a hum, and the back wall swung open.

The party of four walked through the door and found themselves in a smallish room with stainless-steel walls and ceiling, a couch and a few chairs lined against the walls, and a receptionist's desk, manned by an attractive Latina, with monitor near the far door. At that moment, that door opened and two other people entered. One of them was handsome, dark-haired, with bright brown eyes under dark eyebrows and a strong, rather pointed chin, and a mouth that looked given to ready smiling - and indeed, at that moment, was split in a huge grin of pure delight. His companion, slightly shorter, had pale-blond hair worn rather long and cool blue eyes set in a rather high-cheekboned face; he looked like the kind of person who customarily guarded his emotional displays carefully, but his eyes were also gleaming with pleasure.

"Well, here you are at last, Belldandy - and you too, Keiichi, Urd and Skuld!" said Napoleon Solo, extending his hand and grinning from ear to ear.

A FEW MOMENTS BEFORE

U.N.C.L.E. HEADQUARTERS

Napoleon encountered April Dancer and Mark Slate coming out of the big area in the part of Level 3 reserved for office space for Enforcement Agents. The brunette agent was carrying what looked like a boxed LCD monitor, and the Englishman (Napoleon winced inwardly at the particularly loud vest he was wearing today) was toting a rectangular box of the kind used for shipping personal computers. They greeted Napoleon cheerily as they passed him. He raised his hand in reply, then scratched his head in some perplexity and went into the office.

"What's all this?" Napoleon inquired, seeing the stacks of boxes around Illya's desk. Napoleon, as Chief Enforcement Agent, rated an office of his own, which he generally tried to keep somewhat neater than the clutter he was now observing.

"Components for personal computers," Illya Kuryakin answered succinctly. He was reading what appeared to be a motherboard manual.

"Well, yes, I can see that," Napoleon affirmed, picking up an anti-static bag and looking at the chips contained therein.

"Please put that down, Napoleon. DDR2 modules - or any other electronic components, in fact - are prone to damage if you don't discharge static before you touch them. That's why they're in that bag," Illya said with some asperity. Napoleon noticed that his partner was wearing a static-grounding strap on one wrist.

"Well, all right," Napoleon said, dropping the bag back onto the desk. "You still haven't told me what all this is for, though."

"Building personal computers," Illya replied curtly. He took out a yellow highlighting marker and lined out some spots on the page he was reading.

Napoleon sighed. "Yes, but for what purpose?"

Illya looked up. "Some of the people here in Headquarters have asked me to help them with new PC systems for their homes, and I am doing so. I am trying to be neighborly, Napoleon - something you often tell me I should pay more attention to." He ducked his head back down again to the manual.

"Oh. Well, that's all right, then. I ran into April and Mark on the way in here - they must have been carrying a unit you built for them."

"April, actually. Her old box died and she needed a new one," Illya replied abstractedly.

"Could you build me one?" Napoleon asked. Illya looked up again.

"Certainly, if you buy the parts."

"How much would that cost?"

"It all depends," Illya said with long-suffering patience, "on just what type of system you want and what kinds of features you want it to have, how much hard drive space you want, how much physical memory you desire, whether you prefer Intel or AMD CPU's, what type of CPU socket you would prefer your system's motherboard to have, whether you want a DVD burner, whether you want video- or audio-recording equipment, what kind of printer you would like, whether you require a scanner, what size monitor you think best fits your needs..."

"Whoa! Whoa! Enough!" Napoleon protested, raising his hands. "I get the point, already. I'll just go buy something from Dell." Illya groaned at that.

"Please, Napoleon. Don't put yourself through unneccessary suffering. I'll help you build a new computer, if you'll..." The chiming of the intercom interrupted him.

"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, please come to Agent Receptions on Level 1. You have visitors."

Napoleon brightened. "Oh good! That must be Belldandy and her crew." Illya also perked up.

"Let's go down to see them, then," he said, dropping the manual, standing up and putting on his somber black jacket over his equally somber black turtleneck.

"Oh, how wonderful!" Belldandy cried. She swept past the outstretched hand and gathered the slightly startled Napoleon into an enthusiastic embrace, then repeated the procedure with Illya. "How have you been?" she continued, releasing Illya.

"Can't complain," Napoleon smiled. "It's pretty much the same old grind, saving the world and keeping Illya from biting the heads off doctors whenever he lands in the hospital after one of our adventures."

"You exaggerate, Napoleon," Illya chided. "I simply snap at their hands." Napoleon snorted. He nodded to the receptionist. "Can you get them badges, please? Log them in as guests of ours." He turned back to the visitors from Nekomi. "I assume you know this isn't entirely a social visit, of course."

This time, it was Keiichi who spoke up. "Yes, we know," he nodded. "When you called me and invited us to come by, you didn't say so in so many words, but I gathered there was something coming up you might be needing our help on. It's not another lunatic who wants to build an army of mecha, is it?"

"Not quite," Napoleon said. "Mr. Waverly will explain it all - he's expecting us upstairs. Come this way..." Having been properly badged, Keiichi and the three goddesses followed Napoleon and Illya into the main Level 1 corridor, walking toward the elevator. Urd studied the people going by and the flashes of offices and workspaces she could see as sliding doors opened and shut with great interest. "Never thought I would see something like this outside a TV show," she commented. Illya looked slightly amused. "Life is often, as they say, stranger than fiction," he replied, as he ushered the party into the elevator.

When they debarked on Level 3, they walked down the long corridor with its communications and intelligence computers continually manned by staffers behind reinforced glass panels, until they reached the sanctum of the Chief of Policy and Operations. Lisa Rogers was at her desk in the outer office, waiting for them. Napoleon smiled at her. "Here we are, and we've brought our visitors with us," he said, indicating the four. Lisa smiled in return, then keyed her intercom and spoke a moment. She listened to the reply through the earbud she wore, then nodded to Napoleon. "The Old Man is waiting for you - go right on in."

They went in, to find Alexander Waverly waiting for them. That worthy, a man in late middle age with a craggy, heavy-browed face and the general air of a gentle, slightly absentminded professor (an impression immediately counteracted if the viewer caught a glimpse of the steel-trap intelligence lurking in the deepset eyes), was stuffing a pipe. He looked up as the door opened, and stood up. "Ah, Mr. - er - Solo, Mr. Kuryakin. Who are our guests?" he asked as though he didn't already know.

"Mr. Waverly, I'd like to introduce you to four friends of ours - Keiichi Morisato," Napoleon indicated the young racer, who bowed formally, "and Belldandy, Urd and Skuld. Everyone, this is Mr. Alexander Waverly, our chief." Waverly nodded graciously.

"Welcome to U.N.C.L.E., Mr. - ah - Morisato, ladies. Please, be seated. There should be coffee and tea on the sideboard, if you care for any," he said, waving vaguely toward that piece of furniture. He nodded to Solo and Kuryakin to take their own seats and sat down again himself. "At the risk of being impolitely blunt," he said, "I suggest we get straight to it." Everyone nodded.

"First of all, Miss - uh - Belldandy," Waverly began, fingering his unlit pipe, "I have a proposition to put to you and your sisters, as well as to your young man, Mr. Morisato, if you're willing to hear me out."

"Of course, Mr. Waverly," Belldandy smiled. "It must be something important, to ask us to come by when I know you don't usually allow casual visitors."

Waverly nodded, then harrumphed. He considered the bowl of his pipe for a moment. "Have you ever heard of Section A?" he asked abruptly. Belldandy cocked her head. "No, I don't think so. I know that most of the sections of this organization are numbered, but I don't think I know of any Section A. Urd?" She looked over at her older sister, who shook her head. Waverly harrumphed again.

"Pleasant to know that some vestiges of security persist in this day and age. In any case, Section A is what you might call a reserve section, a place where prospective agents are identified and given their initial training before they are formally accepted into the United Network Command and sent to the Survival School, as well as an organizational structure for personnel who work for us in one capacity or another but who, for good and sufficient reasons, cannot function as full-time agents. Many of these people have extraordinary talents which are of immense value to U.N.C.L.E. and to the world, but these same people also have pressing demands on their time and lives which preclude their regular employment by the Command.

"I would like to offer you, Miss Belldandy, your sisters, and your young gentleman friend, appointments to Section A as part-time agents."

The three goddesses and Keiichi all looked at each other in surprise, then back at Waverly. Belldandy said slowly, "We're very much honored, Mr. Waverly, but we have no training as Enforcement Agents."

"Precisely," Waverly concurred, pointing his pipestem at the Norn of the Present. "Most Section A agents are not trained agents, and are not expected to expose themselves to the dangers or take the risks that the men and women of Section Two must accept as a matter of course. As I said, they - the reserve agents, that is to say - are people of special talents and abilities, who serve U.N.C.L.E. in their own ways. In view of the signal assistance you rendered Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin in that affair of Dr. Morrow and his walking robots in Japan, and also in view of your - er - unique background and powers - " his heavy eyebrows twitched and the keen, pouched eyes widened slightly - "I feel it appropriate to have put that proposition to you - particularly as, if you agree, there is a project immediately in the offing in which you can again be of material assistance."

Belldandy was silent for a moment, then smiled at Waverly. "If I could have a moment?" The head of Section One waved assent with his pipe. Belldandy put her head together with her sisters and Keiichi, and a sotto voce conversation went on for a few minutes. When they broke up, Belldandy was smiling even more broadly, and Urd and Skuld were both grinning. Keiichi was slightly more unsure, but very much interested.

"Well, Mr. Waverly, I think you have yourself four new part-time agents," Belldandy said. Alexander Waverly smiled more broadly than either Napoleon or Illya could remember in quite some time.

"Oh, capital. Absolutely capital. Welcome to the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, ladies, Mr. Morisato." He nodded to Napoleon and Illya. "Now that that's settled, gentlemen, I believe we should get on with the briefing."

"Ladies and gentlemen", Waverly continued, "the subject of our concerns today is the Scandinavian nation of Gotland." He pressed a key on his keyboard, and the big plasma screen dominating one wall of the office lit to show a map of the Scandinavian region. It zoomed in on one of the nations. "Gotland is about the same size, with the same population, as Denmark, and in the past, it was embroiled in the long struggles among Sweden, Norway and Denmark for domination of Scandinavia. As a consequence, it developed armed forces which, though relatively small in number, are of extremely high competence, and have compiled an admirable record for themselves in recent decades in U.N. peacekeeping operations." Another click, and tables full of statistical information appeared.

"Gotland has one of the highest rates of digital integration in the world, alongside its near neighbor Finland, and is possessed of a considerable industrial plant and significant reserves of key mineral resources, including titanium, tungsten and chromium, as well as coal and iron ore; it also possesses a large merchant marine, and the capital city of Kronholm is one of Europe's great ports." The image changed again, to show a handsome, well-dressed, regal-looking family.

Waverly continued, gesturing with his unlit pipe, "This is the Royal Family of Gotland; the King, Lars V, his wife, Queen Sophie, and their children Eugenie, Margarit and Erik. You will be interacting most directly with Her Royal Highness Crown Princess Eugenie." The screen now displayed a close-up of Eugenie, an attractive young woman whose severe hairstyle - her glossy brown hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail - was belied by the sparkle in her eyes and the warm smile on her round, pretty face. "Her Royal Highness, in fact, is an U.N.C.L.E. intern at the Kronholm office."

That made Napoleon swivel to eye his chief with interest. "How does that work? I wouldn't think a crown princess would usually have the time, much less the inclination, to get involved in our line of work."

"Quite true, as a general rule, Mr. Solo," Waverly concurred, "but Eugenie is a remarkable young lady, an honors graduate from the Royal University of Kappaala in Gotland, who has always taken a close interest in the role of international organizations in ameliorating the world's problems. She has worked previously with such organizations as Oxfam, the Gotland Red Cross and Amnesty International. Let me see...ah, yes. While Her Royal Highness is naturally precluded by her circumstances from going through the full round of U.N.C.L.E. training, she has applied herself diligently to learning everything she can, and she has received high marks from her superiors at the Kronholm office and the European continental command. She is, among other things, quite adept at using the Special, though she much prefers the sleep-dart ammunition to regular ammunition."

"Well, I do myself, actually," Napoleon commented. He took another look at the picture of the Princess, smiling to himself, and then turned back to Waverly. "So, what exactly is going on in Gotland that's arousing our especial interest?"

"I was just getting to that, Mr. Solo," Waverly grumbled. "Gotland has been going through considerable parliamentary unrest of late. The current Prime Minister is highly unpopular and it is expected that he will soon resign, or be forced out of office by a no-confidence vote in Parliament. The problem, however, is that the political scene is currently so fractious that it is highly likely that no party will be able to form a successor government, establish coalition with other parties to do so, or win elections should they be called."

"I see!" Illya said, his cool blue eyes sharpening with interest. "Such a climate of political chaos would be precisely the kind of situation Thrush would love to exploit, either to secure a bridgehead in the nation's government or even to seize control outright."

"Precisely, Mr. Kuryakin. Precisely." Another click, another picture. Napoleon and Illya frowned, because the person displayed in the picture was a familiar - and unwelcome - sight. "You will, I am afraid, know this woman from previous encounters, gentlemen. Dr. Egret. She has recently been spotted by our personnel in Gotland, taking up residence at one of their local satrapies with a considerable staff of specialists, weighted toward those skilled in political maneuvering of the type endorsed by Machiavelli. As you noted, Mr. Kuryakin, Section Four considers it highly probable that the bad Doctor is in-country precisely for the purpose of exploiting the current political unrest. She must not be allowed to do so. Gentlemen, I desire you to proceed to Gotland forthwith and break up whatever power play Dr. Egret may be seeking to put into effect."

"We'll do it, sir," Solo confirmed. "I suppose this Princess Eugenie will be working with us?"

"Crown Princess Eugenie," Waverly corrected absently. "Yes, Mr. Solo: she is, of course, highly knowledgable about her own country, and has additionally been studying the problem posed by Dr. Egret. You will want to make contact with her when you arrive in Kronholm."

Napoleon and Illya began to stand up, but Waverly raised the stem of his pipe, stopping them. "Something else you should know, gentlemen; Dr. Egret will probably be executing her machinations under cover of the International Motorcycle Grand Prix that is soon to take place in Kronholm. Many of the world's leading motorcycle racers will be descending upon the city for the festivities, including, I am given to understand, you, Mr. Morisato." He waved at Keiichi with his pipe.

"I am also given to understand," Waverly continued, "that you, Mr. Morisato, will be accompanied by Miss Belldandy and her sisters - " Belldandy smiled and nodded - "and some other people from the motor-enthusiast circles that you associate with at your home in Japan."

Keiichi nodded. "The Motor Club people, including my sister Megumi, are already in Kronholm, and so is Chihiro Fujimi, my boss. We're supposed to catch JAL tonight out of Kennedy to fly there."

Waverly continued, "Very good. This, then, is the project that I spoke of earlier. I desire you to, insofar as your other duties and commitments permit, be ready to assist Mr. Solo and Mr. Kuryakin in their investigations in Gotland. I believe you have a cultural affinity for that area of the world, given your background."

"We're ready to help you in any way we can, Mr. Waverly," Belldandy said quietly but confidently. "We do know the language - as well as that of the other Scandinavian nations - and we're familiar with their history and culture. Keiichi-san will be quite busy with the race, of course, but I and my sisters will be at your disposal."

Napoleon and Illya nodded firmly. "I've seen few other people who have the skill with mechanical and electronic devices that Skuld has," Kuryakin commented, "and Urd is, by all accounts, a formidable chemist. And I don't even need to mention the things Belldandy can do." He winked at Belldandy, who blushed as most of the others chuckled; even Waverly smiled. "And all that motor-racing talent will, if nothing else, also give us an easy way of eluding Dr. Egret and her thugs if the need arises."

Waverly snorted. "Discretion before valor, Mr. Kuryakin, is an attribute I try to encourage in our Enforcement Agents. Very good. Mr. Dennell in Section Four will have additional materials for you to review, and your tickets, reservations and other such matters are being prepared by Section Six. If you have no further questions, then I suggest you get on with it."

As they rose from their seats, Illya remarked to Skuld, "How experienced are you with PC maintenance and upgrading?" Skuld scoffed good -naturedly.

"I can slap anything from an Altair to a dual FX64 together in fifteen minutes flat. What's up?"

"I have this little project of my own I want you to take a look at..."

KENNEDY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

"That was a stroke of luck, getting those two extra seats on the JAL flight to Kronholm at the last minute," Napoleon remarked as he followed Illya into the terminal. Both were toting the usual load of suitcases.

"Indeed. A little surprising, because Kronholm is a popular tourist destination at all times - and especially now, with the Grand Prix," Illya commented. "I suppose we shouldn't look a gift cow in the mouth, though."

"Horse," Napoleon corrected absently as he scanned the huge lobby. He saw the goddesses and Keiichi in line at the ticket counter, and returned their waves. As he lifted his suitcases and walked to join them, he asked Illya, "You have that letter for the TSA, right?"

Illya nodded, tapping his inside jacket pocket. Napoleon continued, "It's a bother, having to go through this extra level to be able to carry weapons on flights, but that's the way the world is these days. In any case, we have the authority and right to do so. One only wonders how Thrush manages to swing it."

"They're here," a tinny voice said through the earpiece inserted in the ear canal of the burly Thrush agent positioned in the concourse housing JAL's gates.

"Acknowledged," he said, and nodded to his equally burly partner. They walked into the men's room and entered adjoining toilet stalls, coming back out a moment later. They smiled at each other. "Those bribes the New York Satrapy paid out cost a fortune, but it's worth it to be able to carry on flights again. Especially with Solo and Kuryakin in the neighborhood." He patted the new and inconspicuous bulge under his left armpit.

"Do we kill them?" his partner inquired. The agent thought a moment, then shook his head.

"Not until we get to Kronholm, at least. But we do keep them in sight at all times."

Having passed through the TSA checkpoints after showing their gold U.N.C.L.E. ID cards and the laissez-passes authorizing them to carry firearms on board as sworn law-enforcement officers, Napoleon and Illya proceeded to the gate where the JAL 747 was waiting. Illya glanced to one side, and his voice casual, addressed Napoleon;

"I think we're going to have some company on this flight we don't particularly want."

Napoleon shifted his eyes in the same direction. "Mmmm, yes. I think I recognize those two from mug shots. Low-level enforcers attached to the New York Satrapy. Do you suppose they're just tailing us, or do they have orders to take more drastic action?"

"If they do, it'll probably be after we get to Kronholm, not on the flight. Thrush won't want it public knowledge that they're able to smuggle weapons on planes, not in this day and age."

"Right. Let's just keep an eye on them," Napoleon concurred, taking out his ticket and heading over to the gate agent to get his boarding pass.

JAL FLIGHT 463

NEW YORK-KRONHOLM

As the goddesses and Keiichi settled into their seats, Skuld watched the rest of the passengers board the plane. She took an interest in two of them. "Onee-sama, look over there."

"What is it, Skuld dear?" Belldandy looked in the direction indicated, then looked down quzzically at her younger sister. "I'm not quite sure what you mean, dear. What is it about those gentlemen there I'm supposed to see?"

Skuld leaned close to Belldandy and murmured into her ear, "Those men are Thrush agents, I'm sure of it. They look just like those thugs in the game and a lot of the bad guys we ran into during that business with old Morrow a few months ago."

"Well, dear, I'm not entirely sure you can tell what organization people belong to just by their looks..." Belldandy began.

"And they're carrying heat, too!" Skuld interrupted triumphantly.

Belldandy blinked. "Heat?"

"Weapons. Pistols. Guns," Skuld clarified.

"Really? Oh, dear! That's not supposed to be possible at all, not these days," Belldandy said, looking quite worried. "Maybe I should call one of the flight attendants..."

Skuld shook her head, the big hair ribbon she wore bobbing. "No. Napoleon and Illya should be able to take care of it themselves, and even if they can't, we're here." Belldandy thought about that, then smiled.

"I think you're right. All the same, a little insurance wouldn't hurt." She closed her eyes, raised her hands slightly so that they seemed to be cupping something, and began a low-voiced incantation.

QUEEN BIRGIT INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

KRONHOLM, GOTLAND

As it happened, the flight turned out to be uneventful, livened mostly by the latest Harry Potter movie, which Napoleon enjoyed while Illya buried his nose in the new edition of Mueller's Upgrading and Repairing PC's. He did remark at one point, "Napoleon, don't you think that movie is rather unrealistic compared to what our friends back there can do?"

"It's a fantasy, Illya, a fantasy," Napoleon replied. "You can't spend your life poring over DIMM's and video cards."

"Skuld does, at least part of the time. That's one thing I like about her. She's well-grounded," Illya retorted.

"You mean she's just as much a geek as you are," Napoleon needled. Illya replied with eloquent silence.

When they landed at the airport, Napoleon and Illya looked around for their Thrush shadows, and took note of them deplaning several rows' worth of people behind them. They could see their Nekomi friends a bit further back in the line. Belldandy caught Napoleon's eye and winked at him, for no specific reason that Napoleon could figure. She winked again and mouthed words. Napoleon frowned as he lipread Belldandy, then smiled and nodded back.

The U.N.C.L.E. agents strolled down the concourse toward baggage claims and customs, noting that the decor seemed to be very much oriented toward a racing motif. Photos of motorcycles and motorcycle jocks were everywhere, and Napoleon chuckled as he saw a blow-up of Keiichi, looking rather embarrassed while surrounded by race queens.

Illya glanced back over his shoulder. "They're on our heels." Napoleon nodded. "Let's deal with them." He got a glint in his eye. "I suspect Belldandy did something with our little friends' guns."

Illya nodded. "She may seem naive at times, but she's also very observant. This place here?" He indicated a men's room which seemed to be deserted at the moment. Napoleon nodded. "After you." They entered the lavatory, then turned and waited.

The Thrush agents entered the men's room, started a bit to find Napoleon and Illya waiting for them, then grinned unpleasantly. The more senior-looking of the two said, "End of the line, gentlemen." He reached under his jacket and pulled out a wicked-looking black automatic, as did his partner.

Napoleon said mildly, "Quite a trick these days, getting those past the TSA."

"Yes, isn't it? Too bad you'll never find out how we did it," smirked the Thrush as he raised his pistol. Napoleon and Illya just stood there calmly, Illya with his arms folded.

The Thrushes pulled their trigger, but nothing happened. "What...?" muttered the senior agent. He looked at the gun, shook it a bit, then took aim again and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell, but no bullet spat out. He glared at the weapon and thumped it, then checked the chamber. "Hey, there's no round in there." He ejected the magazine and peered into it. "What the hell! This thing is empty!"

"So's mine!" rasped his partner, staring in equal dismay at his empty and useless pistol.

"Too bad," Napoleon said suavely, drawing his own Special. Illya followed suit. "Ours aren't." He and Illya fired. Phut! Phut! The Thrushes jerked and collapsed like stringless marionettes.

"I really like sleep darts," Napoleon commented as he holstered his pistol again. "Let's get these bad boys comfortable," he said as he grabbed one of the unconscious agents under the armpits and dragged him over to a stall. "By the time they wake up, we should be well away from here."

When they stepped outside again, Belldandy was waiting for them. She beamed. "Oh good, it worked," she said happily.

"Very smooth," Napoleon complimented her. Illya nodded in agreement and approval. "Where are you off to now?" he asked the goddess.

"We're going to collect our baggage and go to our hotel," she replied, "then find the rest of our friends from the Motor Club. What about you and Illya?"

"We'll check in at the hotel too - I think we have the same one you do - then we have to go over to the local office and see what's what," Napoleon answered.

SOMEWHERE IN THE CITY CENTER

KRONHOLM

Illya looked longingly at the pastries displayed enticingly in glass cases as he and Napoleon made their way through the cafe. "I wonder if they deliver," he commented.

"Either that, or you can step back out to buy some. All the people working here are U.N.C.L.E. personnel." He nodded at a pretty blonde manning the espresso machines. She smiled back at the dark-haired CEA brightly as she did something particular with the spigot on one machine.

Napoleon and Illya stepped into a corridor off the main dining room, then walked through a door marked "RESTROOM - OUT OF ORDER". They walked up to the far wall, and Napoleon pushed the button on the air dryer hanging there. Instead of producing a flow of hot air, the dryer clicked, and the wall swung open, admitting Napoleon and Illya into the precincts of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, Kronholm.

After collecting their usual "11" and "2" badges - Napoleon wondered idly why it was that every time he visited a field office anywhere in the world, either by himself or with Illya, those same numbers were always waiting for them - they were conducted by another blonde, a leggy beauty with a Special holstered at the small of her back, to the office of the station chief.

The Chief of Station, U.N.C.L.E.-Kronholm, rose to his feet as Napoleon and Illya entered his office. "Delighted to meet you two gentlemen - I know you by reputation." He gestured to the other person in the room. "May I present you to Her Royal Highness, Eugenie, Crown Princess of Gotland. Your Highness, here are Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin from the New York base."

Napoleon and Illya both took in the sight of the Crown Princess; medium height, a build both nicely curved and athletic; the pretty, round face they had seen in the photographs; the big rimless glasses accentuating the hazel eyes; the gleaming brown hair tucked into a neat bun. She was wearing a crisp suit with an U.N.C.L.E. badge bearing the number "42" on her lapel. She beamed as she nodded to the two Enforcement Agents.

"Call me Eugenie, please. When I'm on duty here, I don't like to stand on stuffy ceremony, and besides, you two are my superior officers - at least, you are if I read the tables of organization correctly," she said, her smile turning slightly impish.

Napoleon grinned. "Oh, I like unstuffy royals. So does Illya here, though he's so stiff sometimes you wouldn't know it." Illya made a face at his partner and turned to the Crown Princess. "I understand you've done quite a lot of humanitarian work in the past," the Russian said. Eugenie gave him the once-over, her eyes gleaming, then gave him a dazzling smile.

"Well, in a sense, this is more of the same - but it's a good deal more - hmmmm - interesting than any of the other internships I've had so far, even the one I did at Oxfam. I rather hope I can talk my father into extending my tour of duty here, in fact." She sat down, clearing her throat, then looked up again and blinked. She blushed pink and stood back up. "Oh, excuse me! I didn't mean to be rude. Won't you sit down?"

Napoleon laughed. "It's okay. Call it force of habit." He and Illya sat down, as did the Chief of Station. Eugenie opened a folder stamped with the U.N.C.L.E. skeleton-globe insignia and looked over the papers therein for a moment, then looked back up at Napoleon and Illya. "I assume you were already briefed on the basics of the situation before you came over here?" The agents nodded.

"Well, things are accelerating," Eugenie said grimly. "The Opposition is going to call for a vote of no-confidence tomorrow, and it's probably going to pass by a big margin. Once that happens, it's anyone's guess how long it'll take to form a new government. A caretaker government will hold the reins in the interim, but there are some bad signs about some of the people in it."

The Chief of Station nodded. "The man who's most likely to be the caretaker PM, for example, Carl-Gustav Palme. We've seen him meeting repeatedly with people known to be connected to the local Thrush Satrapy. It's rather unlikely they were just meeting for coffee and croissants."

"Speaking of the Satrapy..." Eugenie fished several 8 1/2" x 11" photos out of the folder and handed them over to Napoleon. She looked slightly apologetic as she continued, "This person was photographed at several of the meetings with Palme, and when we cross-checked her, we found her name mentioned in your own records. Do you know why she would be here?"

Napoleon studied the photos. "Well, well, well. Fancy that; Angelique does seem to turn up wherever I go." He handed the photos to Illya, then turned back to Eugenie. "I don't know for sure, but I can make a good guess. She's probably in charge of this operation - exploiting political unrest is a specialty of hers."

"Then why would Dr. Egret have come in so recently with such a big staff of specialists?" Illya asked.

Frowning, Napoleon leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "Hard to say. Maybe Central thought Angelique needed help. Or maybe Egret wanted to muscle in and get her share of the glory. That's not unknown in Thrush, you know; political infighting is a fine art in that organization."

"Which is a good thing for all of us," Eugenie commented, "because otherwise, if they were really unified, we'd really all be in trouble."

Napoleon nodded. "I think the thing for me to do is just mosey around town and see if I run into Angelique." Smiling not-so-wryly, he added, "Once Angelique learns I'm in town, she'll likely be looking to find me."

THRUSH SATRAPY

SOMEWHERE IN THE METROPOLITAN KRONHOLM AREA

Dr. Egret nodded to Marller as the demoness entered the Thrush scientist's office. Angelique sat in a nearby chair, expressionless.

"Well, Marller, I asked you to come today for a couple of purposes. The first was to introduce you to Angelique La Chien. Angelique, this is my colleague Marller." Marller smiled toothily at the blonde. "Any friend of Urd's is a friend of mine." That made Angelique blink in surprise.

"You know Urd?"

"We're childhood friends, you might say," Marller said lightly, "though our ways have parted since then. But I know you spent rather a lot of time with her and her sisters during the recent uproar in Japan. How is dear Belldandy?"

"Doing very well, I should think," answered Angelique in a cautious tone. Marller, still smiling, turned back to Egret. "Well, we've met. Now what else?"

"I wanted to show you something to underline just how serious we are," Dr. Egret answered.

Marller canted an eyebrow. "Is that really necessary?" Egret smirked.

"It's tradition, you might say." She pressed a button on her intercom. "Show Her Grace in." The door slid open and a handsome, aristocratic ash blonde in her late thirties, outfitted in a smart silk dress with veiled butterfly hat and elbow-length gloves, came in, accompanied by two Thrush soldiers and a voluptuous brunette, also in Thrush uniform. The lady in civilian clothes looked around somewhat apprehensively, fixating for a moment on Marller in surprise, then turned her attention on Dr. Egret.

"Your Grace," Egret purred, "I find the results of your recent efforts quite...disappointing."

"I did the best I could," protested the noblewoman. "Those politicians can be damnably hard to turn, if they're possessed of anything resembling a conscience. I even slept with the leader of the Gotland Social Action Party, and he still wouldn't agree to my - that is, our - suggestions!"

Egret waved that off. "Excuses, excuses." Her voice hardened. "Excuses don't interest me. Only results do. You are aware of the tradition of Thrush, yes?" Without waiting for the noblewoman to give an answer, she went on, "Success brings reward, failure brings punishment. A very sound behavioral principle, I've always thought. And since you have failed..."

She produced a pistol. The aristocrat's elegant, well-bred face paled under her net veil.

"...You must be punished." She turned to the brunette. "Mariska, kill her."

Before anyone could stir or otherwise react, Mariska drew a pistol and fired two shots into Her Grace's chest; two small, sharp bangs resounded from within the body immediately thereafter. The noblewoman tottered on her high heels, then toppled over backward, dead before she hit the carpet. Mariska stared down at the corpse, a strange smile on her face. She licked her full red lips slowly.

Marller gaped in horror. "You...you murdered that woman! In cold blood!" she yelped.

Angelique had said nothing through the whole scene, and now turned her head toward Marller with a expression combining surprise and mild contempt. Dr. Egret chuckled dryly. "Hardly cold-blooded murder, my dear. Consider it an execution of Thrush justice. Such events serve, as Voltaire once put it, to encourage the others. While I am aware that our weapons aren't effective against you, nonetheless I hope witnessing this may encourage you to...shall we say, render exemplary service."

"Why, you...!" Marller began heatedly. Egret turned her back on the demoness and gestured sharply to Mariska. "Take this away. No need to use the body disposal machine; I think a public exhibition to spread terror would be better. You know what to do." Mariska nodded and snapped her fingers at the soldiers, who bent, picked up the dead noblewoman's legs and dragged the body away, the skirt riding up to display gartered thighs. Marller shuddered at the sight of the corpse's face, which bore an expression of stunned surprise.

Dr.Egret sniffed. "For a demoness, you seem rather delicate," she stated. Angelique stood up suddenly.

"Time for my afternoon constitutional," she said briskly. The Doctor nodded at her absently. "Yes, you go ahead and do that, dear," she replied.

ACT II - "Typical Thrush gorillas, or I'm a Nemetski."

MEANWHILE...

When the meeting had closed out, Napoleon, Illya and Eugenie left the U.N.C.L.E. field office together. Once back out in the pastry shop, Napoleon told Illya, "I've got an idea. Why don't you take Eugenie with you and make the rounds? It'll be good for her to get some experience with an Enforcement Agent." The Crown Princess nodded eagerly. Illya looked rather more unsure.

"Are you certain, Napoleon? It may not be safe for us to be separated in Kronholm with Dr. Egret on the loose."

"I'm sure," Napoleon replied firmly. "Right now, I'm going to just walk down this avenue and soak up a little of the local atmosphere."

"And try to pick up one or two of the local belles," muttered Illya, but he went on his way with Eugenie in tow.

Napoleon left the pastry shop himself and strolled down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool spring air and taking in the sights of Gotland's capital. This particular avenue seemed to be a center for the local outdoor-cafe industry; a fair number of those establishments lined either side of the street, and all of them were busy. He noticed a knot of familiar faces at one such cafe, smiled, and walked down to greet them.

"Hello there, Belldandy, Keiichi, everyone. I see you're already well established here in Kronholm." There was a chorus of greetings from the N.I.T. crew.

Urd said with a sardonic little smile, "Tamiya-san and Otaki-san decided to make this our home away from home because they've got a karaoke bar." And indeed, Napoleon could hear the bellowing voice of the senpai from inside the cafe, doing something to a song by the Temptations that he didn't much care to think about. Shivering a little, he turned back to the goddesses and their friends and was introduced to several other people who had joined N.I.T.'s Motorcycle Grand Prix team, including Chihiro Fujimi, Keiichi's boss at the Whirlwind custom-cycle shop back in Nekomi; Sora Hasegawa, a petite, bespectacled girl who was the current president of the Motor and Cycle Club and who looked far younger than her years; and Megumi Morisato, Keiichi's younger sister.

"Notice anything interesting?" he asked Belldandy. The Norn of the Present smiled as she took a sip of her Darjeeling.

"Well, Mr. Solo, I couldn't absolutely swear to it, but I think I saw a friend of yours taking a stroll down the canal embankment over that way," and she nodded in the direction of a canal glistening blue in the early-afternoon sun. Her pretty brows contracted a little in concern. "Poor Miss Angelique didn't look too happy, so I didn't want to disturb her, but I'm sure she'll be glad to see you."

"H'mmmmmmmm. Possibly." Napoleon didn't say any more than that, but thanked Belldandy and headed over in the direction of the canal.

Napoleon saw a familiar platinum-headed figure strolling down the sidewalk that lined the canal embankment. He changed his course and walked toward Angelique.

As he approached, he saw that the blonde had an unaccustomedly glum expression on her face, which didn't quite match the elegant white outfit she was wearing. She was staring at the pointed tips of her gleaming knee-high, spike-heeled white boots and didn't look up as Napoleon approached.

"You look gloomy today, Angelique dear," he commented.

The Thrushwoman looked up, irritated. "If you're one of Egret's myrmidions, why don't you just..." she started, then saw who it was that was speaking. Her expression lightened, but only somewhat. "Oh. Napoleon, darling. Hello." She sighed and looked down at her boot tips again, resuming her stroll. Napoleon fell in alongside her.

"Am I to take it that you're experiencing some personal difficulties with the good Doctor?" he ventured.

Angelique glanced up at Napoleon, her expression now sulky. "I don't really see where that's any of your business, darling," she replied.

"Well, probably not, but you know how it is. Your colleagues have always accused me of sticking my nose in where it doesn't belong," Napoleon answered easily. That won a brief syllable of laughter from Angelique.

"True, true! Well, it's really not something I can talk about - or want to talk about, either. I probably said more than I should have, actually, if you worked out that I was talking about Dr. Egret."

"Set your mind at rest," Napoleon assured her. "I already knew that. What I didn't know until today was that you were here, too."

Angelique sighed again. "I rather wish I were the only one here..." She fell silent again, and they walked together for a while. She finally turned to Napoleon, doing her best to smile.

"Napoleon, darling, I'm just not very good company right now. Can you excuse me? I do have to get back to work."

"Of course," Napoleon said gallantly. Angelique smiled again, more warmly this time, and kissed him lightly on the lips, then turned and walked back up the embankment. Napoleon watched the white-clad figure shrink into the distance, his face thoughtful.

Napoleon strolled back up the boulevard after taking his leave of Angelique, still deep in thought. He was vaguely purposing to find the goddesses and their Motor Club friends again, when he suddenly heard a very familiar voice that caused him to spin around.

"Sure, 'tis a crying shame when lager is two and a half crowns the bottle," the fat man in the wheelchair said. "'Tis those awful hurricanes, and tsunamis, and the dear God and Mary and Patrick know what, at all, at all." He shook his head dolefully, chatting with the bowing waiter. Napoleon grinned in delight and picked up his pace.

The fat man looked up as Napoleon approached, his blue eyes twinkling. "Sure, two and a half kroner or not, there's those as want to find me to drink me out of house and home at that price," he commented. "If them was to go into Old Town - to, say, about number thirty and nine in Saint Joseph's Street. let us say - he might find what he was looking for, if he was looking for what he wanted to know by way of information." He nodded and winked to Napoleon.

"Naturally!" Napoleon laughed

"Well, if one knocks seven times - three, one, three - there's a door open to anyone. Now I must go, Mr. Solo, and a good evening to ye and yours."

The fat Irishman nodded in dignified fashion and pivoted his wheelchair, then rattled off down the cobblestoned sidewalk. Napoleon watched him leave, smiling, and then resumed his stroll down the avenue.

He found the N.I.T. contingent still at the cafe, and abruptly remembered something he had to do. He collected Keiichi and the goddesses and took them aside for a moment.

"I almost forgot, but I wanted to issue you some of our transceivers so that you can keep in touch with us and HQ. I picked them up today at the Kronholm office - I'll also need to show you how to get there and enter, by the way." He handed out four of the silver penlike communicators. "Basically, these work like cell phones except all the 'dialing' - " he made "quote" motions with his fingers - "is done by voice. To contact New York, say 'Open Channel D'; for local communications, say 'Open Channel L' and then the name of the person you're calling. For example, if you were calling me, Belldandy, you'd say, "Open Channel L; Belldandy to Solo'. The transmissions are secure, but if you need to ensure maximum security, use Channel H, the special UHF channel; 'Open Channel H - Ultra-High-Frequency Hot'. There are other comm codes, but those are the ones you're likely to be using most of the time." He showed the others how to open and close the communicator and turn it on and off. "It uses a special lithium battery, or if you need to you can even get equipment down at the office to plug it into a standard wall socket."

Belldandy nodded as she took her transceiver and slipped it into a pocket in her skirt. "Thank you, Mr. Solo. This will be quite useful," she said. Skuld was looking over the silver tube with a speculative glint in her eye. Napoleon saw the expression on the young goddess' face and waved an admonishing finger. "Now, now, no experimenting on company property without authorization!" Skuld pouted, but pocketed the transceiver.

Belldandy inquired, "Do you have any particular plans for tonight, Mr. Solo?"

Napoleon thought briefly and shook his head. "Not that I know of, though I haven't spoken to Illya yet."

"Well, why don't you come have dinner with us and the Motor Club? We're eating around nine P.M. at the smorgasbord restaurant near our hotel. We'd love to have you." Napoleon mulled that briefly, then smiled. "Sounds fine to me, I'll let Illya know. I'm going to go find him now." They parted with a round of farewells, and Napoleon continued on his way. He pulled out his communicator and opened it. "Open Channel L - Solo to Kuryakin."

"Kuryakin here," Illya answered immediately. Napoleon told his partner about the afternoon's events. Illya liked the idea of smorgasbord, naturally, was delighted to hear about the meeting with the fat Irishman, and received the report of Napoleon's encounter with Angelique in thoughtful silence. "Interesting," he said at last. "I suspect she's much less than pleased about being pushed into the background by Dr. Egret. Internal Thrush politics raises its head again. That's often been one of our biggest allies. Even so, you should be careful, Napoleon. This won't be like the Morrow affair - she's on the other side this time."

Napoleon nodded, then remembered to verbalize. "Yes. Don't worry, Illya, I'll watch my step around Angelique. Where are you and Eugenie now?"

"On Marshal Jorgenson Street." He gave an address and directions; it was about a mile away from Napoleon's current position. "The Crown Princess - sorry, Eugenie," he amended as a voice Napoleon couldn't make out said something in the background, "has been showing me around town. It's been fairly quiet - we've seen a couple of the local Thrushes but they don't seem to be doing anything in particular, and as far as we can tell nobody's trailing us."

Napoleon frowned. "Me think it too quiet, Kemosabe," he said. Illya made an interrogative noise. Napoleon chuckled. "Old joke. What I mean is, if there's this little overt activity on Thrush's part, they're probably gearing up for something big. We need to find out what it is, if anything. I'm going to take a taxi and come over to where you are, all right?"

"Fine. Kuryakin out," Illya answered, and cut the connection. Napoleon returned the communicator to his pocket and looked around for a cab.

Several minutes later, he found Illya and Crown Princess Eugenie in a rare and used book store. Illya was perusing a large, dusty, leather-bound volume as Napoleon walked into the shop, wearing his seldom-seen glasses. He looked up. "Hello, Napoleon. This book is rather interesting. Did you know that Gotland produces more cheese than Denmark and Holland combined?"

"Not previously," Napoleon confessed. "I think you'll be very happy here, though, if you like cheese sandwiches." He nodded at Eugenie. "How has it gone today?"

"Quiet, actually, like Illya told you," the royal intern replied, shrugging well-rounded shoulders. She frowned. "It's odd, really. Last month, the area around Parliament was crawling with Thrushes, but now most of them are gone."

Illya added, "As best we can figure out, the drop in activity seems to coincide with Dr. Egret's arrival. It's rather odd, if Thrush is trying to stage a political action here."

Napoleon nodded thoughtfully. He said to Eugenie, "There are some other people you should meet - they're the ones we're rendezvousing with for dinner. They're new Section A agents, not full-time Enforcement people, but Mr. Waverly recruited them for their special abilities. I think you'll like them." Eugenie smiled. "I've heard of Section A - we have a few part-timers here in Gotland, too - and I'm looking forward to meeting more of your friends."

A pen communicator twittered, and three heads turned to look for its source. "I've got it," Eugenie said, and took out her transceiver. The Crown Princess extracted the instrument's small antenna and said, "Open Channel L." She listened, spoke in Gottish, then listened again, replied, and closed the connection, looking up at Napoleon and Illya. "Could you two come with me? There's something I have to go look at, and I want your eyes too."

SOMEWHERE IN CENTRAL KRONHOLM

Eugenie braked her BMW near the canary-yellow crime-scene tape, shut off the engine and got out of the luxury roadster, followed by Napoleon and Illya. The storefront area was swarming with uniformed and plainclothes police. The princess nodded at the store. "This is one of the most exclusive boutiques in town - it's favored by the local titled set. I, my sister and Mama come here every so often. But expensive dresses aren't what we're here for this time." She ducked under the tape; Napoleon and Illya followed suit. Eugenie went down to one knee and examined the body lying propped up against a display window.

"I know this woman - knew, I should say," she commented. "Countess Lise of Alfheimstadt. She was one of Mama's ladies-in-waiting a few years back till she had to resign because of a scandal involving an affair she was having with the deputy chief of naval staff. She was something of a political groupie, in fact; the last I heard, she was dating the head of the Social Action Party - that's one of the big opposition parties in Parliament." She looked closer at the corpse. "Shot twice in the chest. I wonder. A jealous lover?"

Napoleon was taking a close look at the dead aristocrat himself. "There's something odd about these bullet wounds." He pointed at the red-tinged black holes punched in the expensive silk of the slain Countess' dress. "Illya, do those wounds remind you of anything familiar?" Illya hunched down to examine the body himself.

"Possibly, but we need a post-mortem. These wounds are quite fresh; she can't have been dead for more than a couple of hours." Eugenie nodded.

"Let's get our late Countess to the morgue, then." She signaled to a nearby policeman.

GOTLAND ROYAL POLICE MORGUE

SOMEWHERE ELSE IN CENTRAL KRONHOLM

The nude body of the late Countess Lise lay on its back on a stainless steel table, being examined by the Crown Coroner while Napoleon, Illya and Eugenie stood by watching.

"All right, we will now open the torso," the medical examiner said. He picked up his scalpel and started making the Y-cut across the chest and down the abdomen. Eugenie winced a bit and gulped. Napoleon looked over at her. "All right?"

"Uh, yes. This is actually my first time at an autopsy," she replied. Napoleon nodded. "We've seen this before, a lot of times. Illya here has even worked a few himself." He looked back over at the body. "It's one of the things you get used to, in this business, along with seeing bodies dead by all kinds of violent means. At that," he commented wryly, "this case is neater than some others we've seen." Illya nodded.

"Yes, Napoleon. There was the time we were examining that Thrush agent who had been violently dismembered by a grain thresher..." Eugenie gulped again, louder.

The coroner, having finished cutting the cadaver open, was now carefully poking through the chest organs. He paused, looked more closely at something, then looked up. "Your Royal Highness, gentlemen - can you come over here a moment, please?"

The three agents approached the autopsy table. The coroner pointed into the Countess' exposed chest cavity. "This is a very unusual result for a bullet wound."

"Oh, indeed," Napoleon said softly, as a man does whose suspicions have been confirmed. Illya produced a pair of horn-rimmed glasses, donned them, and leaned close in to scan the indicated area. Eugenie took a deep breath. "That's ghastly. What exactly happened here?"

"The two rounds appear to have exploded upon entering the Countess' chest. They were designed to spread shrapnel through vital parts. Now, who uses bullets like that?" Napoleon inquired of Illya.

"That, I presume, is a rhetorical question, Napoleon. Some Thrush bigwigs like to use these rounds during executions or torture - if the wound is not in an immediately fatal place, the agony caused by the shredding of delicate organs by the shrapnel is considered by some of our more sadistic Thrush friends to be...exquisite." Illya's face was expressionless.

Napoleon nodded. "I think we'd better look at Her late Grace's personal effects. Do you have them here?" he asked the coroner. The latter nodded, jerking his head at a nearby table where a small pile of clothing was stacked. Illya crossed over and started searching the clothes and personal effects.

Napoleon commented to Eugenie, "These rounds are actually pretty uncommon - they're expensive to make and kind of tricky to handle. You won't generally see them in the hands of low-level Thrush gunsels, just upper-management types. This lady may have been shot by Dr. Egret herself."

"For what, though?" Eugenie asked. Napoleon shrugged. "We'll have to find that out."

Illya came back over, carrying something in his hand. "I found this in a concealed compartment in the Countess' purse." He showed the object to Napoleon and Eugenie; a Thrush identification card, complete with smart chip and holographic thrush. He also had a business card in his hand. "Well, we know one thing - the Countess was definitely Thrush. This was with the ID." He displayed the business card. It bore the address of a company called Bird's Nest Computers AG; the CEO seemed to be one Nils Tortensson.

Napoleon pulled his communicator and activated it. "Open Channel D."

Alexander Waverly's voice responded. "Ah, Mr...er...Solo. Your latest report?"

Napoleon outlined the current situation. Waverly made a thoughtful noise, and Napoleon could visualize him fiddling with one of his innumerable pipes.

"Dr. Egret may have made a crucial mistake in executing this unfortunate lady. In the first place, from what I am given to understand, she was very highly placed in Gottish society; the violent deaths of such people always draw considerable interest from the press and the public, and the Doctor would have been better advised to carry out the murder in a more discreet way. In the second place, she erred badly in not removing all incriminating documents from the body before disposing of it. The connection with this - er - Tortensson and his Bird's Nest Computers is worth following up on; as you are well aware, Thrush is particularly fond of establishing Satrapies at high-technology firms."

"Yes, sir," Napoleon answered. "We're going to check out that place tomorrow and see if we can get in to have a word with Tortensson." He went on to tell Waverly about his encounters earlier in the day.

Waverly harrumphed. "Most fascinating. I believe Mr. - ah - Kuryakin is correct about Miss La Chien's state of mind. She is certainly experienced and senior enough - much on the same level as you, Mr. Solo - that she would have been capable of running an operation of this magnitude herself. I wonder if she is under a cloud at Thrush Central because of her actions in the Morrow affair and her - er - association with yourself?"

"Maybe, but I doubt it," Napoleon demurred. "If Angelique were under suspicion, they probably wouldn't have given her such an important assignment, and in any case, she was acting under comprehensive and explicit orders from a very senior Thrush executive last time. I think it's more likely that Dr. Egret just decided to horn in on what looked like a good thing."

"Mmmmmm. I suppose you're right, at that, Mr. Solo," Waverly conceded. "As to your meeting with our Irish friend, that is better news. He has been of considerable help to us in the past, and may well have valuable information to impart to us on this affair. "

"I agree, sir. We'll call in as more developments occur."

"Very good, Mr. Solo." The connection cut off; Mr. Waverly wasn't in the habit of using formal signoff protocols.

9 P.M. THAT EVENING

A RESTAURANT SOMEWHERE IN KRONHOLM

The entire N.I.T. Motor and Cycle Club was gathered in a private room when Napoleon and Illya arrived, having been invited by Belldandy, and the U.N.C.L.E. agents were greeted boisterously. Tamiya grabbed Illya and squeezed him, leaving the slight Russian feeling a little squashed, and both agents were sat down at the table and had food and drink - especially drink - pressed on them. The restaurant specialized in smorgasbord, and people circulated back and forth between the table and the groaning buffet. "Not," Megumi pointed out, "that it's any patch on Belldandy-san's cooking." Napoleon introduced Eugenie around, and there was quite a bit of formal bowing; the young Japanese folks were rather amazed that a royal would condescend to eat with commoners. "Our Imperial Family are very formal," Keiichi explained, and the Crown Princess nodded. "I know, I've met your Emperor and Empress and my counterpart the Crown Prince and his wife. We tend to be a good deal, um, easier here in Scandinavia."

Throughout dinner, Napoleon and Illya had been talking about all sorts of other things with the goddesses and Keiichi, but when coffee and dessert came around, the topic turned to the reason they were in Gotland in the first place. The murder of the Countess had by now hit the national news, and Napoleon mentioned to Belldandy that they had been looking into it. "It turns out she was a Thrush agent, probably executed by the local Satrap for some failing or other," he said. Chihiro pricked up her ears at this.

"What is this Thrush? I've been hearing Morisato-kun and Bell-chan talking about it, and now you - " Chihiro nodded at Napoleon and Illya - "but I'm still not quite sure what it is, except that I've heard people talk about it once or twice on the news. Usually those boring talking-heads programs on Sunday afternoon."

Napoleon and Illya looked at one another, but before they could reply, Belldandy answered, slightly to their surprise.

"Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin - maybe I could explain to Chihiro-san for you?" the goddess said, then went on speaking more directly to Chihiro and the rest. "What you're asking about isn't any great secret, at least not to anyone who follows what goes on behind the facade - so to speak - of international competition and conflict. I have to admit that I didn't pay very much attention to this at first, but since I met Napoleon and Illya for the first time, I've been studying the subject more closely."

She paused for a moment. "Imagine that you have a globe in front of you. Put your finger just about anywhere on any of the world's continents. Your finger will be covering a place where there is an establishment of some kind - a business, a factory, a store, perhaps a school or hospital, a laboratory, even a government department or military base - that seems to carry on its business as normal from day to day but, in reality, is under the control of Thrush.

"Those Thrush-controlled entities are called Satrapies, and their leaders are called Satraps. They're all dedicated to the objectives of Thrush." Belldandy paused. The next question came from Otaki, who was looking uncommonly grave behind his ever-present sunglasses.

"But what is Thrush, Bell-chan?"

Belldandy sighed, looking sad. "Thrush is an organization - I've heard Napoleon and Illya refer to it as a 'supranation', which I think means, maybe, a sort of nation which itself transcends national boundaries - led by some of the most powerful and brilliant scientific, industrial and commercial minds in the human race. They have tremendous wealth and resources at their commands - they can literally create armies and navies and air forces for their purpose - and they have a veritable armada of undercover operatives. And all of them have one aim." She seemed to steel herself, then went on steadily:

"The conquest of the world and its unification under one government - the government of Thrush."

The members of the Motor Club stared at Belldandy in dumbstruck horror. "But...WHY?" demanded Tamiya and Chihiro, virtually in unison.

"All sorts of reasons," Belldandy answered, sighing again. "Some people," she continued, thinking of Angelique, "do it from genuinely idealistic motives. They believe that democracy is fundamentally unworkable - in fact, that it's only a cloak for the strong to manipulate the weak. They believe that only oligarchy can promote true justice and progress. Others, however - " she lifted her chin, looking stern and not a little forbidding - "desire only power. They don't care about anyone else but themselves and their own benefit, if they can loot the resources of the world. In either case, they both agree that Thrush's full name speaks for itself."

"Full name?" Megumi inquired, looking puzzled.

"Yes, Megumi-san," Belldandy replied, looking straight at her. "Thrush, you see, is only an acronym. The full name of that organization is:

The Technological Hierarchy...for the Removal of Undesirables...and the Subjugation of Humanity."

The Norn of the Present fell silent, and a leaden silence filled the room.

"Then who stands in their way?" Sora Hasegawa asked, her voice trembling a little.

Now Belldandy smiled radiantly. She pointed at Napoleon and Illya. "Those men - and thousands of other men and women like them," she said. Everyone in the room gazed, awestruck, at the two Enforcement Agents, who felt rather self-conscious. Eugenie smiled at Illya, and the Russian looked down, even more embarrassed.

LATER THAT EVENING

A BAR SOMEWHERE IN KRONHOLM

Urd finished transiting through the TV screen, feeling rather proud of herself for doing so without startling anyone. Not, she noted, that there were that many people to be startled. The scattered customers were absorbed in their drinks or their conversations, and the bartender had his back turned. She settled to the floor, then walked up to the bar and perched on a stool. The bartender turned and approached. "'Evening. What can I get for you?"

"Carlsberg. Line 'em up," the dusky-skinned goddess replied. She scanned the surroundings, her green eyes settling on the person she was looking for, who was sitting by herself in one of the booths gloomily nursing a vodka martini. Grabbing her beer, she ambled over to the booth.

"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?" Urd asked with a grin.

Angelique started out of her brown study and looked up. "Oh. Hello, Urd. Sit down if you like." She waved at the opposite bench. Urd plunked herself down and poured her beer into a mug, expertly holding the bottle to minimize the foam.

"You look like someone ran over your puppy. Do Thrush agents have puppies?" Urd queried. Angelique snorted.

"Nothing so simple as that. Work problems," she answered without elaborating. Urd nodded wisely.

"Figured it might be something like that. Would it have anything to do with Marller?" Angelique looked up sharply.

"How would you know about that?"

"Well, firstly, because I feel her vibrations in this burg, and secondly, because I eyeballed her today. She was sneaking around trying not to be seen, but you can't put one over so easily on the ol' Norn of the Past," Urd said with a wink and another grin. Angelique laughed briefly.

"Yes, I've met Marller. Tell me, Urd, is she always so squeamish?"

Urd raised an eyebrow. "Squeamish?"

"I got the impression from meeting her today that she was - well, naive. She met Dr. Egret and I don't think she likes the way she does things," Angelique answered.

"I don't know a whole lot about this Egret item but from what I hear I'm not surprised. Look, kiddo, there are demons and then there are demons. Marller's not one of the real bad ones," Urd said, more serious now. "Sure, she spends her time annoying me and my sisters and trying to break up Bell and Keiichi, but it's not personal, not all the way; it's her job. Of course, she enjoys it," she continued wryly.

She quaffed her beer, signaled for a fresh bottle and continued. "But I've known Marller since we were kids - we were pretty good friends, really, back in the day - and there are a lot of things she just won't do - she's got her scruples, crazy as that is to say about a demoness. Kinda like you, come to think of it." She eyed Angelique in an appraising manner.

Angelique blinked. "Well. I'll have to think about that."

"You do that. Thinking's good. I do a lot of it," Urd agreed. She poured her new beer, then looked back up at the Thrushwoman. "I bet you're also worrying about Napoleon."

Angelique blinked again, then laughed a little bitterly. "You're really very perceptive."

"That's why they pay me the big bucks," Urd grinned. She leaned forward, her slanted green eyes intent on Angelique's blue. "Hey, listen - don't worry about yourself and Napoleon. That's what I really came here to tell you tonight. The Ultimate Force won't allow it."

"The Ultimate...what?" Angelique frowned, not quite certain if she'd heard right.

"The Ultimate Force; we sometimes call it the System Force too," Urd repeated. "Bell didn't tell you about that when you and Solo made your wishes? Sloppy of her, she doesn't usually leave stuff out like that; but I suppose she was in a hurry to get dinner finished for everyone that day. Anyway, the Ultimate Force is just that; sort of a mystical whatsis - " she waved vaguely in the air - "that makes sure that wishes do come true. Once a wish is properly entered and logged into the Yggdrasil system - like yours - the Ultimate Force takes over and makes sure that nothing can invalidate it."

Angelique looked slightly skeptical. Urd nodded. "Scout's honor." She held up her right hand in the Scout salute. Angelique laughed, more freely now. "When were you ever a Scout?"

"It's the thought that counts," Urd quipped. She continued; "Look, kid. Things are rough now and there are times in the future when it's going to be maybe even rougher, but trust the Ultimate Force and keep your powder dry. I've seen it work any number of times with Belldandy and Keiichi, with my own two eyes."

"If you say so," Angelique conceded.

"I do," Urd replied with a firm nod. She fished around inside her blouse for a moment. "I've brought a little something along to help matters move..."

"Not one of your potions? I've heard about them," Angelique said with slight alarm.

"That brat mecha-freak little sister of mine's been telling tales again," Urd grumbled. "No, it's not a potion. It's an invitation." She triumphantly produced an envelope printed on expensive cream-colored paper and handed it over to Angelique. The Thrushwoman took it and looked questioningly at the goddess.

"The King of Gotland is throwing a big 'do Friday night for all the drivers and support teams in the Grand Prix at the Kronholm Grand Hotel downtown - they've got the biggest ballroom in town and he's invited a lot of people. We're all staying there, by the way, including Napoleon and Illya. Tamiya-san got a fistful of these and there are still a few left over. Figured you might as well have some fun. Napoleon's going to be there, you know. Dress up real nice and...well, who knows how the evening may end?" Urd tipped a slow wink at Angelique.

Angelique looked down at the envelope, then back up at Urd. A real smile, the first in several days, broke across her face. "That's a long way from the worst idea I ever heard. Thank you, Urd."

"For what?" Urd replied with a negligent wave. "All part of the day's work for the Cupid of Love. Hey, barkeep! Bring over the rest of those bottles! Me and my pal got some serious drinking to do!"

THE NEXT MORNING

THE ROYAL SPEEDWAY

OUTSIDE KRONHOLM

As Napoleon, Illya and Eugenie approached the pit stop area where the N.I.T. contingent had set up shop, they could hear the sounds of agitation. Somebody - a woman, by the higher-pitched voice - appeared to be chewing out several other people.

When they entered the pit stop, they saw a rather arresting sight. Petite, russet-haired Chihiro Fujimi was standing with her fists on her hips, berating the two giant senpai, Tamiya and Otaki, who stood there with a distinctly hangdog air and let her pour contumely on them.

"What's this all about?" Napoleon asked Megumi Morisato, who was standing nearby, watching with a very worried expression.

Keiichi's sister answered, "Oh! Good morning, Mr. Solo. Chihiro-san is upset because the spare gasoline tanks for Kei-chan's BMW have gone missing. In fact - " she lowered her voice a bit and looked around before continuing, "it seems that all the other teams are missing spare gas tanks too."

Napoleon, Illya and Eugenie looked at each other perplexedly. "Why would anyone want to steal empty gas tanks?"

"I'm sure I don't know," Megumi answered with a shrug, "but it's got everyone in an uproar, especially Chihiro-san."

Sora Hasegawa put in, "Actually, it's not a showstopper. We're close by to Germany and there's a BMW dealer in town that can replace the gas tanks. It's just all the extra time, money and aggravation." She sighed.

"Where's Keiichi right now?" Illya asked. Sora pointed to the racetrack. Several motorcycles could be seen doing laps around it. Belldandy came up, dressed in N.I.T.M.C.C. overalls.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Solo, Mr. Kuryakin, Your Royal Highness!" she said cheerfully. "How are you today?"

"Puzzled," Napoleon replied frankly. "This business about the gas tanks. I can't figure it out."

Belldandy nodded, frowning thoughtfully. "I don't understand it either myself. It doesn't, somehow, seem to me like the kind of thing Thrush would do, but then I'm not as experienced as you two gentlemen. I wonder..."

Crown Princess Eugenie had been examining the ground carefully while this conversation was going on. She straightened and walked back over to Napoleon and Illya. "Is there some way we could examine those tire tracks?" she asked.

"What tire tracks?" Illya asked. Eugenie pointed to several sets of vehicle tracks in the grass and dirt.

"Somebody drove their vehicles over this ground last night. The tracks are still fresh."

"Not us," Hasegawa said positively. "We used the roadway to move our equipment here."

"Belldandy," Napoleon said, getting an idea, "could you do something to see if you can get anything useful from those tracks?"

Belldandy walked over to examine the tracks herself, dropping to one knee and looking back along the path they stretched on, considering. "I can try. They're still fresh, which does help." She held her hands out, slightly cupped, in front of her body and began chanting softly in a strange language. Napoleon, Illya and Eugenie were all standing close to her so that nobody else could see; the Crown Princess was watching Belldandy with a peculiar expression on her pretty face.

With a soft chiming sound, a slip of paper, looking rather like a readout printout, appeared in Belldandy's hands. She looked it over and then handed it to Illya. The Russian agent read the paper and then nodded. "We were going there anyway. This gives us another good reason to do so."

"Going where?" Napoleon asked.

"Bird's Nest Computers AG. According to the readout Belldandy obtained, the vehicles came from there and returned there."

"How did you do that?" Eugenie demanded of Belldandy.

The goddess smiled. "A simple application of heavenly technology."

"Uh, right. Of course," Eugenie replied, looking highly dubious. Belldandy glanced at Napoleon with a rueful, see-what-I-have-to-put-up-with? sort of smile. Napoleon grinned sympathetically in silent reply.

BIRD'S NEST COMPUTERS AG

SOMEWHERE IN THE KRONHOLM SUBURBS

Eugenie slid her BMW into an executive parking spot at Bird's Nest Computers AG. As she got out of the car, Illya looked at her quizzically. The crown princess grinned. "A royal is an executive."

The Enforcement Agent and the intern walked into the modernistic company office building side by side. Eugenie looked around. "I don't see anything offhand that could link this company with Thrush", she said quietly. Illya pointed at the company logo; a rather garish, cartoony drawing of a pugnacious-looking thrush squatting on a nest crammed with computers. Eugenie made an "ooh, I see" kind of noise.

Samples of the company's wares were displayed in a long glass case in the main lobby. "Do you use Bird's Nest computers in the palace?" he asked Eugenie. She shrugged. "Some, yes, but my brother prefers to build his own for the immediate family. He says they're better that way than anything you can buy at a store." Illya nodded. "I build them myself. Never buy a major brand if you can help it - you just don't get good service these days and you have to take what they offer you, even if you go mail-order." He looked around. "I wonder if Mr. Tortensson is available today..." he mused. He consulted a wall directory, then nodded. "Fifth floor."

They took the elevator up to the fifth floor and strolled down the hallway to the CEO's office. Eugenie took charge once inside, telling the secretary, "We would like to speak to Mr. Tortensson, please. Tell him the Crown Princess is here."

The secretary stood almost at attention. "Uh, yes, Your Royal Highness!" She dashed inside the private office. Eugenie grinned at Illya. "Rank hath its privileges." Illya smiled a small smile in return. "I can think of plenty of times when you'd have been very useful," he agreed.

The secretary returned, still nervous. "Mr. Tortensson will see you now," she said, a little shakily. Eugenie nodded regally and strode into Tortensson's office, followed by Illya.

Nils Tortensson was a thin, middle-aged, balding fellow with thick horn-rimmed glasses and an unprepossessing air. He bounced up from his chair and bowed jerkily to the Crown Princess. "W-w-what an unexpected h-honor!" he stammered. "H-h-how can I help you t-t-today?"

"I'm actually not here in my royal capacity, Mr. Tortensson, though I am here in another official capacity," Eugenie replied briskly. She took a seat in front of Tortensson's desk and nodded to Illya to do the same. "This is my colleague Illya Kuryakin. We're here today on behalf of the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement." She and Illya displayed their identification.

Tortensson gulped audibly as he looked over the cards, and his eyes darted from one to another behind the thick glasses. "W-w-what is t-t-t-this all about, anyway?"

Illya said, "You know that Countess Lise of Alfheimstadt was murdered last night?"

"Y-yes," nodded Tortensson. "A h-h-horrible t-thing."

"We found your business card in her purse," Illya continued, showing Tortensson the card. "Did you ever meet her?"

Tortensson cleared his throat and sat up in his chair. "W-well, yes. Her G-G-Grace m-moved in a l-l-lot of circles, not j-just the aristocracy and C-C-Court. She was v-v-very interested in t-t-t-technology."

"Mmm-hmmm." Eugenie leaned forward. "Did you ever see the Countess socially?"

"Socially?" Tortensson blinked.

"Did you ever date her, take her out to dinner, anything like that?" Eugenie amplified.

Tortensson coughed. "W-well, yes. T-t-there's no b-b-big secret about t-t-that. Her G-Grace was a v-very attractive w-w-woman who enjoyed the n-n-nightlife."

"So you did date her?" Illya interjected.

"I b-b-believe I said t-t-that," Tortensson answered, slightly miffed. He looked amused. "C-c-come now, surely you d-d-don't think I m-m-murdered her? I can t-t-tell you w-w-where I w-was yesterday and last n-night, and I h-h-have a lot of w-witnesses."

"We're not implying that, Mr. Tortensson," Eugenie soothed. "We just have to cover all the possibilities."

Illya asked, "We'd like to inquire about something else, if we could."

"Y-yes?" Tortensson was the picture of polite attention.

"Do you know anything about some missing spare gasoline tanks?"

Tortensson stared. "G-g-gasoline t-tanks! This is a c-c-computer c-company, Mr. K-k-kuryakin, not an auto p-p-parts warehouse!"

"Well, the thing is," Eugenie persisted, "we tracked the vehicles carrying those missing parts here. We'd like permission to look around."

Unexpectedly, Tortensson burst into a guffaw. He waved his hand grandly. "F-f-feel f-f-free, Your R-Royal H-H-Highness. And if you f-f-find any t-t-tanks, let m-m-me know. I n-n-need a new t-t-tank for my L-l-lexus." He chortled again.

Illya and Eugenie looked at each other, then rose from their chairs. "Thank you very much, Mr. Tortensson," Illya said politely. "We'll try not to disrupt your company's floor operations." Tortensson nodded benignly as the two agents left the office, then waited a few moments after the door had closed before picking up a phone and dialing an inside number.

"Edvard? L-l-listen up. We h-h-have t-two U.N.C.L.E. agents snooping around. One of t-t-them is the C-C-Crown P-Princess. H-h-here's what you n-need t-t-to d-do..."

As the pair walked onto the main manufacturing floor, they looked around carefully. "What exactly should we be looking for?" Eugenie murmured to Illya. The Russian responded, "Anything that looks distinctly out of place - a door, say, where none should logically be, for example, or any stack of equipment that doesn't look like computer components. Things like that." His cool, light blue eyes were scanning the big chamber minutely.

Eugenie paced slowly down one of the cluttered aisles, nodding graciously to the bobbed heads of the workers as she passed them. She paused, rubbing her smooth chin. "Illya...what about that pile of boxes?" She pointed to a stack of long, thinnish boxes stacked horizontally almost to the ceiling a few meters away. "Do gasoline tanks come in boxes?" she wondered.

Illya nodded. "As they're shipped, they do. I didn't get whether the stolen tanks were still boxed, but I should think at least some of them were. Let's check." They began to walk over, then Illya paused, laying his hand lightly on the Crown Princess' arm. "Uh oh. I think we had better postpone that examination."

"Why?"

"Look behind you - casually," Illya muttered. Eugenie calmly turned her head from side to side, as if taking in the sights, and glimpsed several big, burly men in company coveralls coming up the aisle in their direction.

"Typical Thrush gorillas, or I'm a Nemetski," Illya murmured. He touched Eugenie's head again, nodding toward a passageway between two conveyor lines carrying newly assembled PC's to the packaging area. They walked that way, heads together as if in conversation. The "workmen" followed.

Illya and Eugenie began to walk more rapidly down the passageway between the conveyor lines. The beefy men in coveralls quickened their pace as well. As they were passing a handtruck loaded with boxed PC's ready to ship, Illya glanced over at the Crown Princess.

"I hate to do this to perfectly good computers," he remarked, "but with parts as cheap as they are these days..."

With that, he grabbed the truck's handrail, wheeled the vehicle around and pushed it hard at the Thrushes. "RUN!" he yelled at Eugenie. The two U.N.C.L.E. agents started to sprint toward the exit. Crashes resounded as the handtruck spun into the middle of their pursuers and the Thrushmen found themselves being pummelled by heavy boxes.

Illya drew his Special as they reached the door, then he pushed it open and glanced cautiously around. The corridor was empty so he motioned Eugenie through the door and locked it, slamming it shut. "We need to block it...ah," he said, spotting a small forklift. He got in, started it up and drove it to block the door, just as fists began to hammer at it from the inside.

"We need to hide," he snapped at Eugenie. The U.N.C.L.E. intern looked around and saw a large, four-wheeled, cloth-sided trash hamper sitting nearby in the corridor. She ran up and glanced inside it. "Illya - over here!" she called. She climbed over the side and dropped down inside.

Illya jumped into the half-empty trash hamper - fortunately, what was in there was paper and cardboard and nothing more distasteful - and landed on top of Eugenie, eliciting a mildly surprised oof from her. He pulled a mass of paper over their bodies and then turned back, only to find his mouth inadvertently brushing that of the Crown Princess. He pulled back and began to apologize...

...but didn't manage to get a word out, as Eugenie grabbed him by the back of his neck, pulled his face down to hers and gave him the longest, steamiest kiss he'd gotten in several months. When she broke the kiss, her pretty face was slightly flushed and her eyes were shining.

"What," Illya managed, "was that in aid of?"

"Because I wanted to," Eugenie husked. She glanced around. "Do you think anyone will see us?"

"Not unless we move around a lot," Illya replied. "I think we should stay very still."

"Oh, good," Eugenie replied happily. "Then we can still do this while we're keeping still." She kissed the Russian again.

A crash resounded abruptly, and Illya and Eugenie froze, waiting. Voices called to each other.

"Where the hell'd they go?"

"Search me, Jakob. They ran through this door here, I know. They can't have gotten far."

"What about that hamper over there?" Illya and Eugenie held their breath.

"Let's look." A rough hand stirred the papers and other trash covering their bodies. "Nah, nothing here, just junk. Let's check the other corridors." Running footsteps faded.

Illya sighed in relief, then found his mouth occupied again by Eugenie's. "Your Royal Highness!" he whispered in protest as he pulled back.

"Oh, do shut up," Eugenie whispered back, grinning at him. "You're delicious. I've wanted you since I laid eyes on you, you know that, don't you?"

"It's very flattering," Illya replied sincerely, "but this is hardly the time to act on it."

Eugenie giggled. "Probably not." More seriously, she continued, "Are they gone?" Illya lifted his head cautiously above the trash. "I think so." He pulled himself out of the hamper, then helped Eugenie out and they brushed each other off. Eugenie drew her own Special and commented, "I think we'd better - what's your saying? - get the hell out of Dodge."

"American saying, not Russian, but I concur with the sentiment," said Illya. They moved at speed toward the exit. Illya glanced at his companion. "Incidentally, I didn't know you were armed."

"This is loaded with sleep darts only," Eugenie clarified, hefting the pistol. "It's against policy for interns to carry lethal ammunition except in emergencies, and Papa isn't really thrilled about having the heiress to the throne going about putting holes in people, even when they deserve it."

Illya nodded. "I see his point." Reaching the exit door, he looked through the window. "I think we're clear." He carefully opened the door, his pistol at the ready. Nothing untoward occurred, and he and Eugenie slipped out and ran over to the princess' BMW. They slid in, Eugenie started the engine, and they sped out of the parking lot.

MEANWHILE

SOMEWHERE IN THE OLD TOWN, KRONHOLM

"I'm glad you could come along with me, Belldandy," Napoleon commented. "This is an old friend of mine and Illya's that you ought to meet. He's been quite helpful to us in the past and it's good for an U.N.C.L.E. agent to have lots of contacts."

Belldandy nodded. "I'm almost ashamed to admit it, but we - my sisters and I - don't actually get to travel that much since we've been on Earth; we've spent most of our time in Nekomi. This is a lovely place," she commented, glancing around at the old wood-and-stone buildings.

"If I remember my history right, this town is over a millennium old - goes all the way back to the old Vikings," Napoleon said with a sidewise grin, glancing at Belldandy. The Norn chuckled. "Oh, I think I remember those days," she said impishly. "I never thought I looked good in a horned helmet, though."

Napoleon laughed, then scanned the block they were in. "Let's see - I think we were to go to number 39 in Prince Joseph Street...Ah, here we are." He and Belldandy walked up to the house, set in the middle of the block; it looked like any other old townhouse, with a bright green door set at street level. Napoleon grasped the brass knocker and rapped three times, then once, then three times again.

The door opened, and a slim, dark man with a trimmed mustache looked out. He smiled when he saw Napoleon and bowed. "Please come in, Mr. Solo, and your lovely companion," he said, stepping to one side.

"Hello, Raoul. Good to see you again," Napoleon replied, stepping inside with Belldandy behind him. "Is he in today?"

"He certainly is, sir. If you'll walk straight to the back, you'll find him. He's looking forward to seeing you," Raoul said.

"Come on, Belldandy," Napoleon said, and strode down the hallway, which was trimmed in dark wood over light with a series of brightly-painted doors. He reached another door at the end of the hall, this one painted green like the front door, and knocked on it.

A rich Irish-brogued voice sounded from within. "Come in, come in, lad!"

Napoleon turned the knob and opened the door, revealing a large and extremely cluttered space. Stacks of newspapers, magazines, and clippings from either, in every language known to humankind, rested everywhere. Reference works lined every wall and several state-of-the-art computers hummed in various corners; Napoleon noted that all of them had web browsers opened to major news sources or search services. In the center of the room sat a huge gentleman in a wheelchair. A few strands of reddish hair lay across his head, matched by a small goatee of the same shade adorning his chin. Brilliant blue eyes twinkled humorously in rolls of fat, and he was beaming from ear to ear, his mighty hand thrust out.

"Napoleon, me lad! Ye're a sight for sore eyes! Sure, why have ye never been around to see me, and we old friends and all?" he cried.

"Tufik, you old devil!" Napoleon grinned, coming forward and clasping the fat man's hand warmly. The fellow wagged his free finger in mock reproof.

"Ah, now, that's the wrong name for meself, sure and it is. I'm Frederik O'Houlihan now, in this fine country!"

"Frederik it is, then," nodded Napoleon. "How have you been doing?"

"Haven't I been pursuing me old trade? And hasn't it been coming up roses for me, with everyone and his cousin needing information, and needing it the now?" O'Houlihan asked rhetorically. Napoleon and Illya had first met him as Habib Tufik, an information broker based out of Casablanca, when they had been working on breaking up a Thrush plot to acquire intermediate-range nuclear weaponry. Tufik had fallen afoul of Thrush, but had come back up on his own two feet (so to speak; he had been crippled since a long-ago altercation with gangsters) and had provided crucial help to the U.N.C.L.E. agents in several other affairs since. He was one of the most comprehensive sources of up-to-the-minute knowledge that Napoleon knew of.

"Good! I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, Frederik. This is Belldandy - " but Napoleon didn't get to finish, as O'Houlihan rolled forward in his wheelchair, his face lighting up, crying,

"Me dear lass! Ye've come to see old Frederik again! Sure, 'tis been a lonely long time since I last laid eyes on ye. I thought sure ye'd gone back to the airy realms!"

Belldandy hugged the huge Irishman. "Oh, I'm so glad to see you again! You're looking just fine," she said, holding him at arm's length and looking him over.

"Ah, sure, 'tis the easy living here in this fine city of Kronholm," O'Houlihan said casually. He waved to chairs crammed with papers. "Sit ye down, sit ye down. I'll find us a jar of the creature." Napoleon moved the papers from the chairs so that he and Belldandy could be seated, while O'Houlihan bustled around the room, gathering things here and there. He came back with a tray full of cups and bottles and a steaming pot, which he set down carefully in an empty spot on the table between them.

"There we are," he said with profound satisfaction. "Coffee with Izarra - sure, it's still the sweet tooth I'm havin', but then ye'd both be after knowin' that." He poured for all of them.

"If it's not prying, how do you happen to know Belldandy?" Napoleon asked after they'd all gotten cups of liqueur-laced coffee.

"Whisht now! Ye remember, Napoleon me lad, the spot of trouble I was in, after those Thrush boyos blew up me old base in Casablanca?" O'Houlihan said. Napoleon nodded.

"Well, then, ye'll appreciate that I was in a bit of a spot. Sure, I was workin' hard to rebuild, but it was help I was needin', and by Brigid, Patrick and all the saints, I got it one fine day! Wasn't I after makin' some calls one fine day to line up a new residence for meself?"

Napoleon blinked. "This story sounds familiar."

O'Houlihan laughed. "Does it now? Well, then ye know that all of a sudden, I somehow got connected to this Goddess Relief Office, and this voice, sweet as one of the angels, says, 'I'll be over directly for your consultation,' and Jesus, Mary and Patrick! out of the mirror in my bathroom comes this lovely lass," he pointed at Belldandy, who chuckled but kept quiet, letting the Irishman continue his story.

"Doesn't this angel say, 'Sure, ye're a hard-luck case, ye are, and that's why ye've been chosen to receive a special wish', she says? And don't I have to think very carefully to choose my heart's desire? And what do you think my heart's desire was?" O'Houlihan said, leaning over in his wheelchair and winking at Napoleon.

"I couldn't even begin to guess," Napoleon answered, pretending ignorance.

"Ah now! Listen to the lad! And himself knowin' that my whole life has been devoted to the collection and disbursement of information! 'Lass', I say to the sweet colleen here, 'what I want more than anything else in the world is to get back to what I've been doin' all my life, and what I love more than anythin' else.' And doesn't she glow like all the host of heaven, and then doesn't this pillar of light shoot up into the sky, like Moses' pillar of fire that the Good Book talks about? And doesn't she then say with the sweetest smile anyone ever saw, 'Your wish has been granted'? And that's how I came to be in Brasilia when your friend Illya came a-callin' that time when those Thrush devils were playing around with that nuclear submarine."

"Something else we have to thank Belldandy for," Napoleon said, glancing at the goddess, who blushed pink. "She's one of us now, in case you didn't know," he continued, telling the Irishman about how Belldandy, her sisters and Keiichi had joined U.N.C.L.E. as part of Section A.

"Doesn't that beat all? The Goddess from U.N.C.L.E.! That's worth a fresh round, sure and it is," and O'Houlihan was as good as his word, pouring more coffee and adding fresh dollops of Izarra. "Now, how can I be helpin' ye this fine day?" he said, settling back in his wheelchair and steepling his fingers.

"We need information about exactly what the deal is with Thrush here in Gotland," Napoleon responded. O'Houlihan nodded sagely.

"Sure, and I can provide that to ye, no problem...for the usual fee." Napoleon rolled his eyes, and pulled out his wallet. "How much is it this time?" he asked.

"Ah, now, let me see...since ye're still not on the subscription service - and I really recommend ye sign up - I'll have to charge ye the single-item price, as usual. Two thousand crowns, flat."

Napoleon did up the conversion in his head. His brows rose. "That's twelve hundred and fifty dollars. What, no state tax, processing fee or anything like that?"

"Oh, that includes everythin' - including high-speed Internet access," O'Houlihan replied placidly, waving a mitt-like hand at the computers. "Sure, isn't Gotland one of the most wired countries in all Europe these days? And doesn't even the King have a brace of computers up there in his palace? But I'm givin' ye a discount, don't ye see, because ye're here with me dear old friend here," he said, nodding to Belldandy.

"Ah, well, then - here you are!" Napoleon handed over a handful of bills to the Irishman, who counted them deftly and made them disappear. He nodded in satisfaction and leaned forward.

"Now, then, list ye while I tell ye the sad tale of one Angelique La Chien." He winked at Napoleon. "Sure, I'm after knowin' that you and she are sweet on each other, the which being the most star-crossed love affair since Romeo and Juliet themselves (God be good to them), seeing that you're U.N.C.L.E. and she's Thrush!"

Napoleon chuckled, rather wryly. "I know it. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up this way."

"Maybe it's just fate, Mr. Solo. Fate acts in odd ways sometimes," Belldandy suggested.

"Aye now, there it is," O'Houlihan nodded. "But hark ye; our Angelique, after that affair in Japan with the robots, was ordered here to see if she could make a permanent base for Thrush - what they call a Satrapy, ye know - and she hatched this brilliant plan to exploit the political divisions in the local Parliament. And Brigid, Mary and Patrick! weren't there ever such fussings and fumings in those hallowed halls as ye never did hear these last few weeks and months! And wasn't our Angelique right there in the midst of it all, pullin' a string here, seducin' a politician there, spinnin' her web like the black widow yer friend Illya says she is..."

Napoleon nodded. "But we understood that was all Dr. Egret's doing."

O'Houlihan snorted in derision. "Don't ye believe it now. 'Tis all Angelique's work, and none else's. So, wasn't she all brought down and knocked flat when she was called to Central one day and told she must turn it all over to this Dr. Egret, and patted on her pretty platinum head and told she was a good little girl and that she could be second banana to Egret? Tell me true, Napoleon me boy, wouldn't ye be smashed up if ye were served like that?"

"I would," Napoleon admitted. "So that's what happened! I was wondering why Angelique was so down in the dumps yesterday."

"So was I," Belldandy added.

O'Houlihan nodded, his blue eyes glittering. "So, ye see, here we have one of Thrush's finest field operatives, on the one hand, and a Janey-come-lately like Dr. Egret, on the other hand, and doesn't it make ye wonder just what the hell was goin' on to make Central change its mind so suddenly like that? Or why their Ultimate Computer turned on a dime and threw out all the previous programmin'? Now, I'm after knowin' that there's somebody very, VERY odd keepin' company with the not-so-good Doctor - a strange lass by the name of Marller."

Belldandy gasped. The two men turned in her direction. "Marller? Is this the same Marller you've told me about, Belldandy?" Napoleon queried.

"Yes. Marller, the demoness. If she's here, Mr. Solo, then that means nothing good. She's got to be involved with whatever's going on. I wonder if she had something to do with getting Angelique pulled off the project in the first place. That would fit her method; her job is to make us - and our friends - unhappy."

O'Houlihan nodded heavily. "And unhappy the poor lass sure is. Ye saw that yesterday, when ye met her, did ye not, Napoleon?"

Napoleon didn't bother to inquire how O'Houlihan knew; the fat Irishman almost literally had eyes and ears everywhere. "Yes, that's true. I've never seen her that low before, and I don't like it."

"Your own sister - " he nodded to Belldandy - "cheered her up some last night, to be sure. But she's still boilin' with anger and resentment that her work has been taken away from her. And morale's down in the whole Satrapy, to be sure; everyone likes our Angelique, but nobody likes the not-so-good Doctor. Then there's the matter of Countess Lise, God be good to her, and those missin' gasoline tanks."

"Do you know anything about either?" Napoleon asked.

"The tanks? No, not yet," O'Houlihan admitted, shaking his massive head slowly. "The Countess? Sure, and I do. She was after bein' one of Angelique's chief agents here, and I hear tell she was shot because Dr. Egret accused her of failin' in a certain mission - but I also heard that our Angelique had heard the Countess out on that same mission before Egret had come along and usurped, and had forgiven the lady. Methinks the whole thing was an exercise to, shall we say, encourage Miss La Chien in the performance of her duty."

Napoleon hmmm'ed, tapping the armrest of his chair with his fingers. He looked up, his brown eyes brightening. "You know, in that case, Dr. Egret made a bad mistake. She didn't search the Countess' belongings after she had her shot. Illya found material in there linking the Countess to Bird's Nest Computers..."

"One of the biggest PC makers in Scandinavia," O'Houlihan nodded. "Sure, and I don't buy name-brand crap. I have them roll my own, and it works just fine."

"You ought to talk to Illya, then," Napoleon grinned, then went on. "Anyway, the gasoline tanks that were stolen from the Grand Prix teams - including the N.I.T. team - were all traced to Bird's Nest Computers. Illya's there now, investigating."

"Ye don't say?" O'Houlihan crowed, leaning forward. "That's news indeed, and no mistake! Sure, Napoleon, ye justify my faith in ye. I knew ye'd come up with a tidbit for me. But Illya, he's with the young Crown Princess right now, is he not?"

"He is," Napoleon confirmed.

O'Houlihan chuckled. "Ah, that lass must be the reincarnation of one of our Irish warrior women of antiquity, sure if she isn't. She's a proper hoyden, that she is. But she'll make a great Queen one day, and herself wantin' so much to do right by her people and the world."

Napoleon smiled back at the Irishman. "Mr. Waverly thinks so, too." He stood up, rather reluctantly. "We've taken up too much of your time already, and we've got to get back to pounding the pavement, so to speak. You've given us a lot to go on today. Thank you!"

O'Houlihan waved it away. "Sure, lad, 'twas nothin' at all, at all. Ye've gladdened an old man's heart by comin' by today, and seein' Belldandy here has added twenty years on to my life, see if it don't! Ye know where I am if ye need any more information - so long as ye have the goin' rate in yer wallet," he added with a twinkle.

Napoleon chuckled and took O'Houlihan's hand. "I'll remember that."

FRIDAY EVENING

GRAND BALLROOM, THE KRONHOLM GRAND HOTEL

"You're looking quite lovely tonight, Eugenie," Napoleon noted with approval. The Crown Princess beamed, twirling around.

"It's a Balenciaga original, I had it designed and made specially for tonight," she answered, adjusting the single strap of the white silk gown and tugging on the tops of her shoulder-length white kid gloves. She looked over at Illya, and her eyes sparked. "You shape well, Mr. Kuryakin," she purred.

Napoleon grinned as Illya fidgeted in his white tie and tails. "One dresses to fit the occasion," he answered, somewhat ill at ease. Napoleon stage-whispered to Eugenie, "Don't blame Illya. He's just feeling an attack of old-fashioned Russian egalitarianism. I told him that his own President wears white tie these days when he goes to visit the Queen of England, but I don't think I quite convinced him."

"Oh, Mr. Solo! I see you and Mr. Kuryakin arrived early!" Another voice interjected, and Napoleon and Illya turned to see Belldandy on Keiichi's arm. Keiichi was also in white tie, and Belldandy was resplendent in a royal-blue gown with white and gold accents that reminded Napoleon somewhat of her formal divine "uniform".

He grinned at the goddess. "Looking good!" Belldandy blushed and smiled, curtsying. "Thank you, kind sir. Have you seen my sisters yet?" She gestured behind her, to where Urd and Skuld were just coming into the ballroom. Urd was wearing a daring purple cheongsam with tiger-stripe accents, and Skuld, looking rather thrilled to be at her first really big formal event, sported a beautiful white-and-scarlet ensemble.

"Very, very nice," Napoleon said with total sincerity. Illya nodded, running his finger under his tight collar. He eyed the gorgeously dressed people now pouring into the huge chamber. "I wish U.N.C.L.E. had a dress uniform. I also wish I could have worn my Russian Navy dress uniform. I'd feel more comfortable in either than in this...this..."

"Monkey suit?" Napoleon grinned. "Tovarich, the whole point of these outfits is so that the men don't upstage the women." He looked around and his eyebrows rose. "Well, well, well. Look who got an invitation. Excuse me a moment..." He made a beeline for the person he'd spotted.

Eugenie looked over in that direction and her own eyebrows went up. She turned to Illya. "Is that her?"

Illya nodded with a glum expression. "I just hope she's not in black-widow mode tonight." The princess rolled her eyes.

"If she doesn't blow the place up, I'll be happy. Excuse me - I have to go join my family."

Illya needn't have worried. Angelique threw a sultry smile at Napoleon as the CEA came up to her. Pulling a white handkerchief out from her deep décolletage, she waved it slowly in the air, as if it were a truce flag. Napoleon laughed and took her into his arms; she yielded enthusiastically and locked her lips with his, one stiletto-heeled foot lifting off the floor as she kissed him deeply.

Napoleon broke the kiss with some reluctance and looked at his sometimes-lover. "Now, that's what I call an outfit. Aren't you afraid everyone is going to turn green?"

"The ladies, maybe. The gentlemen will probably need to stand behind potted plants or hold their drinks in strategic places to avoid displaying...ummm, shall we say, unseemly reactions?" Angelique replied with a seductive smirk as she pirouetted. Napoleon eyed the strapless, ultra-low-cut, clinging black velvet gown with its hip-length slit showing a captivating length of leg encased in sheer black silk and matching black kid shoulder-length gloves with hearty approval.

"You seem to be in a better mood than the last time I saw you," Napoleon commented. Angelique laughed lightly, adjusting her white mink stole.

"Why, Napoleon darling, this is my métier. I'm always in a good mood at this sort of event. Why don't you introduce me to Her Royal Highness? After all, I don't doubt she already knows me from my dossier..."

"Know your enemy, as it were. Or your friend, as it also were. A good idea." Napoleon offered his arm, and Angelique looped her gloved hand through it.

At that moment the rest of the N.I.T. Motor Club arrived. Napoleon spared a moment to gawk in amazement that Tamiya and Otaki had found evening dress of a proper size to fit their huge frames, then greeted them and the others and introduced Angelique, carefully not mentioning that she was a Thrush field officer. The ballroom was now filling up as other teams arrived.

A fanfare sounded, and the King of Gotland and his family entered to a wave of bows and curtsies from the assembled throng. Angelique dropped a very elegant curtsy, and as she straightened, she murmured to Napoleon, "So that's your latest recruit over there?"

"Who?"

"Her." Angelique pointed discreetly at Eugenie.

"Oh, her. Well, yes, but she's just an intern." Angelique scoffed lightly.

"Don't be silly, Napoleon darling. She has the look of someone who can turn into quite a creditable officer. Come, dear, introduce me to her." She tugged Napoleon along as she swayed over toward the receiving line.

Another pair of eyes was watching Illya as he chatted with Eugenie after being presented to the Royal Family. The watcher stepped aside, slipped behind a large potted palm, and pulled out a Thrush-issue communicator. She extracted the antennae, turned on the unit, and raised it close to her lips.

"Kuryakin is spending a good deal of time with the Crown Princess. He seems attracted to her. I'm going to keep an eye on them and if they go off to, hmmmm, spend some time together, we can make a move on them then."

"That's Palme," Eugenie said, pointing to a rather overfed politician who was arguing crossly with several other parliamentary-looking types. "Mind, I don't know that he's involved with Thrush, but he's been spending rather more time with actual Thrushes than I like. And there's Tortensson with him."

"Let's go say hello," Illya suggested, and took the Crown Princess's kidskin-encased arm. As they walked over, Tortensson saw them, and he visibly jumped, his eyes widening behind the thick glasses.

The politicians, including Palme, bowed low as Eugenie swept into their midst on Illya's arm, and she nodded regally at them with her best formal smile. "As you were, gentlemen. May I present my friend, Illya Kuryakin?" More bows and handshakes, and Eugenie turned to Tortensson. "Good evening, Mr. Tortensson. It's a pleasure to see you again so soon, and away from your factory too." She smiled even more widely. Illya eyed the computer maker coolly.

"I-i-i-t's a p-p-pleasure t-t-t-to b-b-b-b-b-e h-h-h-here," stuttered Tortensson, so badly rattled that he was almost incomprehensible. He took out a handkerchief and mopped his sweating face.

Illya said evenly, "I think you may need to revamp the hiring procedures at Bird's Nest, Mr. Tortensson. We were waylaid by thugs while inspecting your plant." Tortensson gulped.

"T-t-thugs? Surely you j-j-jest," he replied. Eugenie shook her head, her face now stern.

"Not at all, Mr. Tortensson. It was really quite surprising. I am not accustomed to being accosted in such an unmannerly fashion," she said, lifting her chin and looking down her nose at Tortensson. The Gottish CEO blinked rapidly.

"I ap-p-p-pologize, Your R-R-Royal H-Highness! I'll g-g-g-get on t-top of it immediately, immediately!" He mopped his brow again.

Eugenie nodded in that regal fashion again. "Very good. Mr. Palme, a moment of your time?" The politician nodded and stepped aside with her and Illya.

Eugenie looked sidewise at the would-be Prime Minister and said smoothly, "As heiress to the throne of a constitutional monarchy, Mr. Palme, I'm constrained from involving myself in affairs of political faction, but you may know that I'm also associated with U.N.C.L.E.?" Palme nodded, and Eugenie went on, "Well, in that capacity, I do have some authority to investigate threats to law and order."

Palme chuckled. "Surely, Your Royal Highness, you're not accusing me of anything?" He spread his meaty hands.

Eugenie shook her head. "Not at all, Mr. Palme. But I felt I should advise you that you're keeping some less-than-desirable company. Have you ever heard of Thrush?" Illya, who had remained silent, watched the man very carefully.

Palme looked perplexed, and Illya frowned inwardly; the man's confusion seemed genuine. "Thrush? What do you mean, Ma'am? What does a bird or horse disease have to do with anything?"

Eugenie pressed, "The organization known as Thrush is unknown to you?" Palme shook his head, looking even more puzzled. "Ma'am, I've never heard of it in my life. Why are you asking me?"

"You've been seen in rather heavy conversations with several men associated with their local branch," Eugenie replied, and listed several names. Palme frowned and shook his head again.

"I haven't seen any of them in several days, if that's what you're asking. It's puzzling. They were coming by my office almost every day, then nothing. It's bewildering, to be candid with you, Ma'am. They sounded so interested in Gotland and its problems, I can't think why they suddenly seemed to lose interest."

Eugenie and Illya looked at each other, now puzzled themselves.

Palme continued, recovering some of his self-assurance, "By the way, you might not know this yet, but the chances are very good that we're going to resolve this little contretemps in Parliament and be able to form a new government," he said confidentially. "Ask your father about it, but keep it under your hat for a while longer. A word to the wise, eh?" He winked ponderously.

"Well, that's splendid news, Mr. Palme. I'm very glad to hear it. I'll return you to your colleagues now. Thank you for your time," Eugenie murmured. The politician bowed and bobbed his head at Illya, then returned to his group.

Eugenie shook her head. "Peculiar."

"Very peculiar," Illya agreed. "If I was reading his body language right, Palme really didn't know anything about Thrush or the real nature of the people he's been meeting with. And then there's what he said about their sudden disappearance. That fits in with the relative lack of activity we've observed the last few days."

The Crown Princess tapped her chin with a gloved finger. "I'll have to think about this. Something is just not adding up somewhere." She sighed, then switched mental tracks and turned to Illya with a bright smile. "In the meantime, won't you dance with me, Mr. Kuryakin?"

Illya bowed. "A pleasure, Your Royal Highness." He took her arm again and they glided out onto the ballroom floor.

Napoleon and Angelique were waltzing. Angelique had a rather dreamy expression on her face as she danced, seeming to be lost in her thoughts. Napoleon had been watching the progress of Illya and Eugenie, and noticed that something had happened that seemed to perplex them. He guided Angelique over to where his partner and the Crown Princess were joining the waltz. "Anything?" he asked Illya as softly as he could. The Russian shook his head.

"Not in front of you-know-who," he subvocalized, jerking his head at Angelique. Napoleon looked down at the blonde, but she didn't seem to be paying any attention. He nodded to Illya. "OK, I'll talk to you later." Illya nodded and whirled off with Eugenie.

Napoleon looked down at Angelique. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked gently.

Angelique stirred. "Oh. Sorry, Napoleon darling. They use florins here, not pennies. I doubt my thoughts are really worth anything at the moment. I was woolgathering." She smiled, mild embarrassment in the expression.

Napoleon chuckled. "I hope it wasn't my dancing."

"Not at all, mon cher. You dance divinely." Angelique perked up and gave Napoleon a sultry smile. "Some people say that dancing ability is related to one's prowess in bed, you know."

"Mmmmmmm." Napoleon considered that as he whirled the Thrushwoman around the floor, weaving in and out among dozens of other couples. He laughed lightly. "If that's so, whatever it says about me, I already know about you."

Angelique chuckled and caressed the back of his neck with a black-gloved hand. "Would you like to renew your acquaintance with my, um, prowess tonight? It's been too long..."

"You really need to ask?" Napoleon said with a raised eyebrow, and gathered Angelique in a little closer. She laughed deep in her graceful throat.

Belldandy looked over at Angelique and Napoleon from where she was dancing with Keiichi. "I'm so glad to see them happy," she sighed. Keiichi looked at his girlfriend.

"You mean they weren't?" Belldandy sighed again, on a different note.

"Miss Angelique was rather downhearted the other day. Urd mentioned she'd met her and Napoleon also says that she's upset about something having to do with this Dr. Egret - he says Egret pushed Miss Angelique out of a leadership position she had held previously." She frowned a bit. "It's not that I approve of whatever Miss Angelique was up to here professionally, but the little I know about Dr. Egret worries me. I wonder..." She lapsed into silence.

"Well, whatever it is, you'll figure it out. After all, you're an U.N.C.L.E. agent now, too, right?" Keiichi smiled at Belldandy, who chuckled and squeezed him.

"So are you, don't forget, Keiichi-san. Don't worry about me or Miss Angelique or Dr. Egret or anything like that. Worry about winning the race," she chided lightly. He grinned confidently.

"No worries, Bell. I'll blast the socks off them."

Standing off to one side, Skuld griped. "Why does Onee-sama have to stand so close to Keiichi when she dances with him, anyway? I mean, sure, I like him and all that, but it's just...just..." She spluttered, momentarily at a loss for words. Urd laughed.

"Forget about it, kid. You don't want to scare the King and Queen and all these fancy bigwigs, and Bell wouldn't thank you for it anyway. Let 'em enjoy themselves."

"I'm not a kid," grumbled Skuld, but she subsided and wandered off to see if she could find any ice cream. Urd chuckled again, more quietly, then turned her attention to where Napoleon and Illya were spinning their partners around the floor. She whistled tunelessly through her teeth as she watched the goings-on and sipped a glass of akvavit.

During a break, Napoleon was able to get Illya aside briefly, where the Russian briefed his partner on what had happened with Palme and Tortensson. Napoleon scowled in puzzlement.

"They're about to resolve the political wrangle and form a new government? Thrush seems to have dialed back its activities? You're right, Illya - that just doesn't compute. Angelique wouldn't sit on her hands at a time like this, she'd be working the scene as hard as she could. As a matter of fact, she should logically have been pumping all the political bigwigs here tonight from the moment she arrived. Instead, she's been spending all her time with me." He grinned briefly. "Not that I object, but it's as if she's lost interest in the job she was doing. Everything seems to have changed around since Dr. Egret arrived on the scene."

Illya nodded. "Maybe you should stick close to Angelique tonight and see if you can pick up anything else."

"I was planning to do that anyway," Napoleon replied with a little smile. He glanced at Illya. "And what plans do you have for the balance of the evening?"

Illya looked blandly at his partner. "That depends on what a certain princess wants to do, I should say." He wandered off to find Eugenie as Napoleon chuckled.

After another couple of hours had passed, Angelique touched Napoleon on his shoulder. "Napoleon darling, let's go," she murmured. Napoleon smiled at her and nodded.

"Oddly enough, I was just about to say that. Hold on just a second..." He looked around for Illya and saw him leaving the dance floor with Eugenie. "I'm going to call it a night, Illya." The Russian looked at his partner and the blonde standing next to him wryly.

"Mm-hmm. Well, good night, Napoleon, Angelique." The other couple replied in kind and walked away, Angelique's arm linked with Napoleon's

Eugenie tugged at Illya's hand. "Come with me, why don't you? I think I've had about enough waltzing for one night myself." She smiled invitingly at him.

"Are you sure it's all right for you to leave?" Eugenie waved her hand casually.

"Oh, it's Papa who has to stick around. I can just plead professional necessity. Besides," she murmured intimately, "there's a limousine in the garage I'd just love to show you..."

Illya cocked his head. "I thought that was just an American custom," he remarked. Eugenie giggled. "As long as the back seats are big enough and comfortable enough, does it really matter what country you're in? Come on!" She tugged at Illya's hand again.

The watcher stood in the shadows as Illya and Eugenie walked off to the garage, hand in hand. She smiled thinly and activated her communicator again.

"It looks like Kuryakin and his new lady friend are going for a ride. I think we should give them more of a ride than they were bargaining for, h'mmmmm?"

"Roger that. We'll get the tow truck ready."

Dr. Egret kept smiling as she turned off the communicator and tucked it away. Her expression turned considering as she watched Napoleon and Angelique leave the ballroom, also hand in hand.

NAPOLEON'S SUITE

KRONHOLM GRAND HOTEL

"Do you remember what we did last time we were together, Napoleon darling?" Angelique purred, reaching slowly behind her waist to find the zipper of her gown.

"Aside from making out like mad minks, you mean?" Napoleon grinned. He took off his evening jacket, draped it over a chair and started unbuckling his shoulder holster. Angelique chuckled throatily.

"Mad mink, am I? Well, I do like mink so..." she fondled the stole she was still wearing demonstratively. She tapped her chin with one kid-gloved finger. "Have you ever made love to a woman in furs?"

"In furs, I don't recall offhand. On fur...well, there was that bearskin rug one time up in Canada with this brunette..."

"Pish." Angelique waved her hand. "You needn't recount your romantic exploits, darling; I know them as well as you do." She unzipped her gown and let the strapless assemblage fall to the floor. "Did your brunette, though, have what I have?"

Napoleon took a good long look as he undid his cuffs and started unbuttoning his shirt. "Truthfully? Not only no, but hell, no."

"I'm so glad, Napoleon darling," Angelique purred. She extended her long legs one after the other, slowly adjusted her garter straps, then tugged at her panties, rolling them down over her creamy thighs and black-silk-sheathed hips and calves, kicking the fragile garment off one stiletto-heeled foot. She adjusted the tops of her black gloves, flipped the mink stole back over her shoulder and ankled over to Napoleon, looping her arms around his neck.

"A fellow could very easily get used to this," Napoleon remarked as he drew the blonde into his embrace and pressed his mouth to her own lips, which opened eagerly.

Marller grumbled as she sat, in miniature, up in the rafters of the room and watched the two bodies writhe and entwine in rapture on the big silk-sheeted bed. They're both happy, blast it, she groused. I'm just not doing my job right.

"Is little Marller-kins unhappy with her world?" cooed an unwelcome and familiar voice. Marller spun to find Urd, also in miniature, perched next to her, grinning at her childhood friend.

"You again. What do you want this time?" growled Marller.

"Oh, just keeping tabs on my friends here to make sure you don't spoil their good time. After all, I am the Cupid of Love..."

"A title which you awarded yourself when you first came to crash with Keiichi and Belldandy," grumbled Marller.

Urd continued as if Marller hadn't even spoken, "...and it's my responsibility to make sure that lovers don't get interrupted. Speaking of which," she commented, looking down, "I think we're at the good part."

Marller turned beet-red. "Pervert! Peeping Tom!" She grabbed Urd by the ear and yanked the protesting goddess up through the ceiling, onto the roof, returning to full size. "And they call me a demoness! Have you no shame?" She shook her head.

"Nope," Urd replied cheerfully, also returning to full size.

"That's probably why you're still just Second Class, Limited, then," Marller replied snippily.

"Maybe." Urd abruptly turned serious. "Listen to me, Marller. This is a dangerous game you're playing at here. This isn't about raising a ruckus for us and Keiichi, or just helping Thrush get ahold of a new Satrapy. I think this woman Dr. Egret is playing at something a lot worse here. I think she's got her own agenda and you've been suckered."

"Ha! How would you know?" Marller jeered.

"Well, I don't know for sure, but I've got a hunch about it. Ask the good Doctor what she's doing with those spare gasoline tanks she's been filching." Urd pulled a Watchman out of her blouse and turned it on. "Hate to chat and run, but I've gotta go now. 'Bye!" She passed through the tiny television's screen and disappeared, along with the device.

Marller flumped down on the roof, crossing her legs in lotus posture and resting her hand on her fist. "Spare gasoline tanks?" she mumbled.

THE HOTEL GARAGE

KRONHOLM GRAND HOTEL

Eugenie pulled an unprotesting Illya over to the parked limousine, opened the door, and scooted inside, continuing to pull the Russian in after her. She snuggled up to him, wrapping her white-gloved arms around his neck. "Have you ever made love to a princess in a limousine?" she cooed.

Illya gave the matter due thought. "I cannot say that I have," he said at last, "but as Napoleon said not too long ago, I am always open to new experiences." He shut the door and took the princess into his own arms. Eugenie laughed softly as she settled back on the leather seat, reaching for the fastenings of her gown.

Unbeknownst to the couple, a tow truck was quietly rolling up in front of the limousine. Two burly men in grey uniforms and black berets got out. "Ya think this is it?" one of them queried

"Think nuthin', dumbass - I know this is it," the other one growled. "Didn't ya see them climb in? Do it quiet-like, they're so wrapped up in each other they won't even notice." Both laughed coarsely and bent to their work.

As the Thrush soldier had commented, Illya and Eugenie were so occupied with exploring each other that they didn't notice the soft bumps as the hook latched onto the limousine's front bumper. However, Illya looked up when he felt the vehicle jerk and a rhythmic bouncing begin that had nothing to do with what he and the girl were doing. "Do you feel that?"

"Feel what, darling?" Eugenie murmured, still focused on kissing and fondling his half-unclad torso. Illya gently disengaged her. "Take a look. Are we supposed to be canted at a diagonal angle? I have heard of the earth moving, but not quite like this."

Eugenie looked up, then around, and gasped. "We're moving! But how...?" She reached forward and pressed the button that lowered the partition between the rear seat and the driver's compartment. There was nobody in the driver's seat, but the limousine's hood was indeed angled upwards and the two could see the yellow flasher lights blinking.

"We're being towed!" the Crown Princess blurted in amazement.

"Did you forget to pay your parking tickets?" Illya asked. Without waiting for an answer, he levered himself over the front seat into the driver's side, not even bothering to do his pants back up. He peered out the windshield. "Ah, just as I thought. Our feathered friends are taking us for a ride." The tow truck had already pulled its burden out of the garage and was turning onto King Gustav II Avenue, the main thoroughfare leading out of Kronholm to the northwest.

Eugenie immediately recovered her equilibrium. She pulled the single strap of her gown back up onto her shoulder and reached for her purse. As she pulled out her Special, she commented, "I think we'd better find out just what the towing charges are, hadn't we?"

"I don't think Thrush accepts AAA or any major maker's roadside service plan," Illya agreed. He helped Eugenie clamber into the front seat. "Get ready to take the wheel when I climb out."

"Climb out where?" the princess queried. Illya pointed at the tow truck's cab.

"To have a word with these gentlemen," he replied succinctly. He opened the door, forcing it out against the slipstream, and peered out cautiously, wind blowing straw-colored hair down into his face. The Thrushmen seemed to be occupied with the road or some discussion of their own. So far, so good. He started to climb out, then stopped, and with a mutter of annoyance, kicked off his pants. In boxer and half-undone evening jacket, he grabbed the frame and levered himself out, balancing himself precariously. He forced the driver's door all the way open and pulled himself up onto the limo's hood, then shut the door again. Looking back, he saw Eugenie taking the wheel and gave her a quick thumbs-up, then crawled across the hood and grabbed the chain.

He pulled himself into the bed of the tow truck and checked the cab again. The Thrushmen still hadn't appeared to have noticed anything. He pulled out his Special, slipped a sleep-dart magazine in, and clambered over to the driver's side door, and knocked. The window rolled down and a beefy face leaned out. "Yeah? HEY! Whatinthehell..." Illya fired two darts point-blank into the driver and his companion, then pushed the driver's unconscious body over and opened the cab door with considerable difficulty as the tow truck started careening across the avenue, threatening to go out of control. Thanking his lucky stars that traffic was light this late at night, he managed to climb into the cab, grab the steering wheel, put his feet on the brakes and gas pedal, and regain control.

Illya managed to steer the tow truck and its burden into a quiet side street without any further untoward incidents, parked it and shut off the engine, found some rope in the truck bed and wrapped the Thrushmen up securely. He then lowered the winch and undid the hook, freeing the limousine. Sighing, he rubbed the back of his head, then walked back over to the limo where Eugenie once again perched on the edge of the back seat, the door open.

"I think we'd better get you back home," he said wryly. "It's been an awful lot of excitement for one night, and I don't much fancy laying my head on the royal block for keeping a princess out too late at night."

"To use your American expression, not on your tintype!" Eugenie replied with great vigor. "We were just getting to the good part!"

"I'm Russian," Illya pointed out. He paused. "Good part?"

With a wicked little smile, the Crown Princess reached out. Her white-gloved hands deftly grabbed the waistband of Illya's boxers and jerked the underwear down to his feet. Before Illya could react any further than a sudden furious-pink blush, Eugenie grabbed him by the hand, pulled him over on top of her and pushed the limousine door shut.

ACT III - "Shall we blow this popstand?"

THE NEXT MORNING

KRONHOLM GRAND HOTEL

Napoleon came out of his suite, whistling and adjusting his tie; Angelique had slipped out of bed earlier and gone back to wherever she was staying. He paused as Illya came out of his own suite. "Well, good morning," he greeted his partner. "Sleep well last night?"

"Mmmmm," was the Russian's only answer. They started walking toward the elevator. Napoleon eyed Illya sidelong, an evil little smile on his face. "You and the Crown Princess seem to be getting along very well." He began to sing tunelessly,

"Illya and Eugenie sittin' in a tree,

K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

First comes love, then comes marriage,

Then comes Illya with a crown pushin' a baby carriage!"

Illya glared at his partner. "Very funny, Napoleon. You still can't sing, and that didn't even scan. Anyhow, I could probably sing the same doggerel about you and Angelique. What was that wish you made to Belldandy, anyway?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Napoleon answered smugly. Illya grunted.

"I have a couple of ideas, and if they're right I don't know whether to be pleased or appalled. Possibly both." He poked the button for the hotel restaurant's floor with unnecessary vigor.

When they debarked from the elevator, Eugenie was there waiting for them. She greeted Illya with a bright "Good morning!" and smooched him soundly. Napoleon whistled again, and Illya scowled at him. "Don't even think it," he warned, raising a threatening finger.

"By the way," he continued, more serious now, "Thrush tried abducting us again last night. They attempted to tow our limousine away."

"Tow your limousine away?" Napoleon stared at Illya.

"Tow our limousine away," Illya repeated. "We broke it up, though."

"Ummmm...how did the driver react?" Napoleon asked tentatively.

"There was no driver, Napoleon. The limousine was parked in the garage," Illya said patiently. Eugenie blushed a little. Napoleon looked from one to the other, then raised his eyebrows and grinned. "Oh. Oho!"

"Don't say it," Illya growled.

"I've been wondering, Mr. Solo," Belldandy inquired over breakfast. "How did you come to join the United Network Command? Or am I prying?"

Napoleon chuckled. "Hardly. If you asked the same question of Illya, he might get all secretive and enigmatic, though. But as for myself, there's really no big mystery about it." Illya gave him a dour look, which he cheerfully ignored. He took up his coffee cup and sipped from it, thinking back.

"I'm Canadian originally, you probably know - born and raised in Quebec City. My parents worked at the Hotel Frontenac - have you ever been there?" Belldandy shook her head.

"No, but I've seen pictures. Such a lovely building."

Napoleon nodded. "So it is. Well, I came down to the States to go to college - majored in philosophy, if you can imagine that," he said with a self-deprecating smile, "and joined R.O.T.C. This would have been, oh, around the time of the Gulf War - that is, not the Iran-Iraq dustup, but the one where Saddam Hussein decided to try stealing Kuwait. Soon as I graduated from school, I was commissioned into the Army, then posted to an armored-cavalry outfit and a few months later when Desert Shield happened I got shipped off to Saudi with my unit. Saw some action during the war - you know about 73 Easting?" he asked Belldandy. She shook her head, but Urd nodded. "Yeah - that was the one where a single cavalry troop took on and whipped a whole brigade of Republican Guards, wasn't it?"

"Right," Napoleon confirmed. "Well, I was expecting to do my time in the Army, then get out and do something else - I'd become a naturalized U.S. citizen as a consequence of my service. But what I didn't know at the time was that U.N.C.L.E. already had its eye on me. Waverly likes to get ahold of people early, you know - somebody told me a while back that they had been evaluating me since before I went to college.

"Anyway, after the war, we were deploying back to the States, when one day, just as we were packing up our camp, I get this call from headquarters and I'm told to report to a certain bird colonel. I didn't know whether I was being called on the carpet for something -"

"Napoleon's chief hobby was the opposite sex even then," Illya interjected. Napoleon thumbed his nose at his partner.

"Who's telling this story, you or me? Anyway, I went to headquarters and reported to the colonel, and he sat me down and told me all about U.N.C.L.E. and how they were, like the Marines, always looking for a few good people. He explained how, with the Cold War ending, and the Soviet Union in big trouble - this was just before it broke up, of course - the 'New World Order' was going to be a damned unstable place, and U.N.C.L.E. was going to be the sword and shield of civilization. He was a pretty good salesman, I've got to say, and I'd been worrying about those things myself for the last couple of years. The long and short of it is, I agreed to join the Command, and next thing I know, I'm being shipped off to the back of beyond in the Pacific to go to boot camp all over again, at the Survival School. You've heard of the Survival School?" he asked Eugenie.

The Crown Princess nodded. "I'm so glad I'm just an intern so I don't have to go there," she replied feelingly.

"It's a rough place, all right," Napoleon agreed. "Jules Cutter, the gentleman in charge there, is a real hard case. His family was murdered by Thrush, and he's been a man with a mission ever since - and that mission is pounding away at young men and women and turning them into Enforcement Agents. To be truthful, I learned a hell of a lot there."

"Not a whole lot more to tell, really. After I graduated from Survival School, I was posted to New York, where I met Alexander Waverly for the first time and was assigned to Section Two. Illya came along a few years later - and for his story, you'll have to ask him yourself. Whether he'll tell it is a different question." Illya said nothing, putting his most enigmatic expression on, and applied himself to his sausages and hash browns.

SUNDAY

SOMEWHERE IN DOWNTOWN KRONHOLM

"Are you sure you're all right being apart from Keiichi?" Napoleon quietly asked Belldandy as they walked down the crowded street.

Belldandy nodded. "The Ultimate Force operates on a longer leash these days than it used to, it seems. I can get back to Keiichi-san quickly if need be, but he's got all his friends around him and Skuld is there too, so I'm not worried." She peered down the street. "Isn't that your Mr. Tortensson?"

"So it is," Napoleon agreed. He lengthened his stride as Belldandy and Megumi hurried to keep up. As he reached the Gotlander, he called out cheerfully, "Well, hello there! I've been looking all over for you!"

Tortensson literally jumped and looked around fearfully. "L-looking f-f-for me?" he stammered.

Napoleon nodded briskly and pulled out his wallet, flashing his gold card. "Enforcement Agent, Section Two, United Network Command for Law and Enforcement. I and my associates - " he nodded to Belldandy and Megumi, who tried to look as severe and professional as they could - "would like to talk with you about the little matter of some missing gasoline tanks."

"G-g-gasoline t-tanks?" Tortensson stuttered.

"Gasoline tanks," Napoleon agreed, resisting the unworthy impulse to imitate Tortensson's stutter. "You see, some tanks have gone missing from the stocks of various teams at the Grand Prix - you know about the Grand Prix, right? I'd think it'd be pretty hard to miss, really." He nodded to the posters festooning every free inch of wall.

"Uh, yes. Why do you think I know about them?"

"Well, you do work for a computer company that's contracted to support the Grand Prix, right?"

"Yes. What about it?" Tortensson replied, recovering some of his equilibrium.

"And some of the people who work for your company were seen where the tanks went missing..."

"N-n-now j-j-j-just wait a m-minute," Tortensson objected, stuttering again and looking quite agitated. "T-t-t-this is a f-f-free country and I d-don't have to answer your q-q-q-q-questions without a lawyer!"

"Then you do know something about those tanks?" Napoleon persisted.

"I already asked you w-what you t-t-t-thought I k-k-knew about t-t-them!" Tortensson snapped, nearly shouting. "I t-t-t-t-tell you I k-k-k-k-know nothing, NOTHING, d-d-do you h-h-h-hear me?" With that, he spun on his heel and stormed off.

"That man appeared to be frightened about something - much more frightened than he should have been, just talking with you," Belldandy observed.

"Yes. Isn't that interesting," Napoleon observed, considering Tortensson's retreating back. He made up his mind. "I'm going to go follow him."

Belldandy shook her head, "No, I'm going with you, Mr. Solo. You can't go alone into a nest of vipers like that. Megumi-san - " she turned to Keiichi's sister - "would you tell Keiichi-san that I'm going with Mr. Solo to help him check out Mr. Tortensson?"

Megumi nodded, but warned, "Kei-chan's not going to like this, you know." Belldandy smiled a bit wanly. "I'll make it up to him," she promised. Megumi nodded again.

"OK, then. Good luck!"

Napoleon took out his pen communicator. "I'd better call Illya." He opened the instrument, tuned it, and said, "Open Channel L. Solo to Kuryakin. Come in, Illya." Illya's voice replied, "Kuryakin here. What's going on, Napoleon?"

Napoleon explained the situation. Illya was silent for a moment, then said, "I think I and Eugenie had also better come along. We were there before, after all, and we can show you the lay of the land."

"Good idea, Illya. Meet us there; we should be on-site in about half an hour. Solo out." Napoleon turned the communicator off, closed it and replaced it in his jacket pocket, and turned to Belldandy. "Here's where you learn about good old-fashioned spying," he smiled.

OUTSIDE BIRD'S NEST COMPUTERS AG

Napoleon examined the Bird's Nest Computers complex through his binoculars, then passed them to Belldandy. "Do you see anything in particular?" The goddess looked, then shook her head. "It all looks quite normal," she answered. They turned their heads as Eugenie's BMW rolled up. The Crown Princess and Illya got out and joined the others on the rise overlooking the factory. Napoleon took the binoculars again, and he could now see Tortensson's car pulling into the parking lot. The executive jumped open, mopped his brow, and ran into the administration building.

"All right. Belldandy and I are going to take the bull by the horns. We'll go in and confront Tortensson. You follow us and see if you can sneak in." Illya nodded, and pointed.

"There's a spot there where Eugenie and I can walk in, I think. Nobody seems to be observing there."

"OK," Napoleon agreed, getting back behind the wheel of his car as Belldandy slipped back into the passenger seat. "Keep in touch."

"Always," Illya assured him. He waited until the car had rolled down the hill toward the main gate, then nodded to Eugenie. "Let's go." The two agents trotted down the hillside, moving carefully.

Napoleon parked the car, got out, then went around and opened the door for Belldandy. He looked up at the administration building. "I have to admit," he confessed to Belldandy, "if you were an ordinary woman - a civilian, that is to say, or a mortal like you sometimes like to say - I wouldn't have brought you here. It'd have been criminally reckless."

"That's true," Belldandy agreed, "but then after all, I am a goddess. See this earring?" She touched the fancy gold earring, laden with long crystals, hanging from her left ear. Napoleon nodded. "It's pretty. I've been meaning to ask you if it has any special significance."

"It does, in fact," Belldandy confirmed as they walked inside. "It's actually a limiter or restrainer on my power, something like a governor on a motor. If this earring were off - if my full powers were unlocked - I would be capable of literally destroying this planet if I had the inclination." Napoleon looked at her, and shivered a bit. Belldandy saw the shiver and laid a gentle hand on his arm, her lovely face contrite.

"Oh, dear! I didn't mean to frighten you, Napoleon. I'd never, ever do that, I promise - destroy the world, I mean. That's why I have a First Class, Unlimited license; the Almighty trusts me to control my powers and use them responsibly, and I've tried never to let Him down. The limiter is really there to prevent accidents."

Napoleon looked down at Belldandy, then smiled. "Well, then, I really shouldn't be worried about you. You're the one who should be fretting about myself walking into a Thrush Satrapy." Belldandy laughed.

"As long as I'm with you, I think you needn't worry." They had, by now, gotten out of the elevator on the fifth floor and were walking toward Tortensson's office. Napoleon looked around. "Odd. It's gone awfully quiet all of a sudden. It is Sunday, and all, but still..."

Belldandy frowned a little. "Yes, that's true. I heard all sorts of office noises earlier, but now it's quiet. Do you think...?" She looked at Napoleon.

"I think we'd better have it out with Tortensson," Napoleon said grimly. He found the right office door and knocked. Tortensson's voice quavered from within, "C-c-come in!"

Napoleon turned the doorknob and entered, followed by Belldandy. Tortensson stood in the middle of the office, looking nervously at the CEA.

Napoleon smiled thinly at the computer magnate. "Let's resume our interrupted discussion about those gas tanks, shall we?"

"I have a better idea - let's talk about why you're so interested in those tanks," a feminine voice snapped from behind. Before Napoleon could turn, there was a heavy blow on the back of his head and he tumbled onto the carpet; the last sound he heard was a distressed little cry from Belldandy.

At about the same time, Illya and Eugenie, who had completed their descent from the hillside, were sneaking through the unguarded door that Illya had spotted. He pulled out his Special, and slipped in a clip filled with sleep darts. "Look sharp, Eugenie," he whispered. "There could be guards patrolling randomly."

They walked carefully through what looked like a general office area, full of cubicles and a big central space with a conference table. Eugenie walked over to the table and checked the papers. "Nothing of particular note here," she murmured, then looked at the table again. "Illya...this coffee's still hot." She pointed at a cup from which steam was gently rising.

"More than one cup," Illya amended. "This place seems to be quite busy for a Sunday - or it would be, if there were anyone around." He looked around again. "It seems as if everyone else had cleared out all of a sudden."

"What do you suppose it means?" Eugenie asked quietly. Illya shook his head somberly.

"Nothing good, I'm afraid. We had better be very cautious."

Eugenie frowned. "I know Belldandy is an agent, too, but should Napoleon have brought her along?" Illya smiled a little. "I wouldn't worry," he replied. "There's a great deal more to Belldandy than what you can see on the surface. She's quite capable of taking care of herself."

"As you say," replied Eugenie. She turned around, examining the room again.

They paced carefully out of the office area into a corridor, Illya leading. He looked up and down. "Deserted," he noted.

Eugenie was trying the doors, which all seemed to be locked. She tested another one and the knob turned. The door swung open. "Illya - come look at this," she said tensely.

Illya came and peered inside the room. Gasoline tanks in shipping boxes were stacked neatly inside.

Eugenie stepped into the room, smiling triumphantly. "Tortensson's busted," she said to Illya as he came in himself.

"So are you," a woman's voice suddenly said from a loudspeaker. Eugenie and Illya whirled at the sound of the door slamming shut. There was a hissing noise. "Why don't you take a little nap, Mr. Kuryakin, Your Royal Highness? There are some things we'd like to discuss with you, and we want you to be well rested."

Illya tried to force the knob on the door, but his vision was blurring and he yawned. "Anesthetic..." he murmured.

"So...sleepy..." yawned Eugenie, slumping against his shoulder.

The two tumbled to the floor.

MEANWHILE...

THE ROYAL SPEEDWAY

At the N.I.T. pit stop at the racetrack, Urd noticed that Belldandy wasn't around. "Oi, Megumi - do you know where Bell's at?" she asked Keiichi's sister.

Megumi nodded. "She went off with Mr. Solo to check something out - they were talking to some guy named Tortensson. He seemed awfully nervous about something." She grinned. "Who'd think that Bell-chan would have become an international secret agent?"

Urd grinned back. "My sis is full of surprises," she commented. Taking her leave of Megumi, she ducked out quietly and found a janitor's closet nearby. She rummaged and found a broom. As she was about to mount it, Skuld came along. "Where are you going, Urd?"

"Belldandy and Napoleon went to check out that fellow Tortensson, the computer-company owner. I'm going to go down to Bird's Nest to see what's up."

"I'll come with you," Skuld said, but Urd shook her head. "No, I want you to stay behind and hold the fort. If Keiichi asks where she is, don't tell him they're investigating Tortensson - he'll just get worried and charge off. You've got your communicator?" Skuld nodded. "OK," Urd said. "If things get screwy, call New York and tell Mr. Waverly what's going on. You know the drill." She mounted the broom and took off. Skuld looked up in the sky for a moment, sighed, and walked back to the pit stop.

INSIDE BIRD'S NEST COMPUTERS AG

When Napoleon came to, he found himself tied back to back with Belldandy, sitting on a disagreeably cold stone floor. Illya and Eugenie were trussed in an identical attitude, sitting a few meters away. He couldn't check himself out because his hands were tied, but he could tell that his pistol, communicator and several other items of equipment had been confiscated. He glanced over at Illya, who nodded back at him. Illya mouthed the words, "We found the tanks - at least some of them. We got gassed ourselves."

Napoleon nodded at his partner, then turned his head and whispered to the goddess, "What happened? How did they capture you?"

Belldandy replied almost inaudibly, "When those people hit you over the head, I knew I couldn't leave you alone, so I pretended to be - you might say - an innocent, wringing my hands and weeping." Though her face was still, there was a little smile in her voice. "I'm keeping my light under a bushel, so to speak. Don't worry, Mr. Solo; I'm already thinking out how to get us out of here."

"Better think fast, Bell," Napoleon advised, "because here they come." Indeed, they could hear footsteps approaching on what sounded like a flight of wooden stairs. The door opened, and in strode a shapely brunette in a sharply tailored gray uniform, followed by an extremely nervous-looking Tortensson and several anonymous fellows carrying Thrush automatic rifles. This beauty stopped in front of Napoleon and Belldandy, tapping one booted foot.

"Well, well. Napoleon Solo, on the town again with a pretty girl." The brunette smirked at Belldandy. "Seems you were indulging your penchant for poking your long nose into other people's business, eh, my friend?"

Solo replied lightly, "Oh, you know how it is. I have to put in a full day's work for a full day's pay. Poking my nose where it's not wanted is part of it."

"Oh, surely," nodded his interlocutor. "But you will also be aware, then, that if you go poking in things where they don't belong, you have to expect to have them cut off. Nothing personal, you understand."

"Certainly not," Napoleon replied dryly.

"I'm so glad we understand each other. By the way, I have given you no name. I am Mariska van Bakker, chief of guards to Dr. Egret, the satrap of the Gotland branch of Thrush."

"I thought Angelique was in charge," Napoleon objected. Mariska waved her hand dismissively.

"Hardly, my dear sir. Miss La Chien was in charge, but she is now second in command to Dr. Egret. Now, then," she snapped, her veneer of cordiality gone, "let's get down to cases, eh?"

"T-t-they were asking q-q-questions about t-t-the t-t-tanks," Tortensson supplied. Mariska van Bakker nodded affably.

"Yes, there's a good fellow, Nils. Your stutter is worsening, you know. Go see Marller, she'll have something to put you right." Belldandy stiffened at that.

"As I was saying," Mariska purred, "I just want to know a few things, and then we can part on the best of terms, you and your charming companion. Such as...h'mmmmmm. Nils did have a point. Why are you so interested in these gasoline tanks which you assert to be missing?"

"Because people known to be Thrush were seen in the various team work areas around the time those pieces of equipment were reported missing, of course. You're getting sloppy. Thrush usually tries to do these things a little more deftly, they don't just walk in and help themselves."

"Pish and posh!" Mariska waved away that irrelevancy. She leaned closer, giving Napoleon a whiff of expensive perfume. "You're not answering my question, Mr. Solo. Why is U.N.C.L.E. so interested in missing gasoline tanks?"

"Well, I was hoping you could tell us what you wanted with them," Solo replied, smiling pleasantly. He got an open-handed slap for his trouble.

"I see we're going to have to use rougher methods. Pity, but there it is. Now, I know that you Enforcement Agents are trained to hold out for a long, long time under even the most persuasive methods of eliciting information. We don't have that much time to expend, so I propose that we question you through your ladyfriend instead." She snapped her fingers, and several Thrush soldiers leaped forward to untie Belldandy and grab her. The Thrushwoman smirked, an unpleasant light in her blue-grey eyes.

Urd considered the problem as she dismounted from her broom and eyed the Bird's Nest complex. Napoleon, Illya, her sister, and Eugenie were obviously all prisoners of Thrush now. Ergo, it followed that they needed rescuing. How to get in, though? The Norn of the Past glanced around and then smiled slowly as she noticed the guard hut. There was a set of closed-circuit monitors where the guards could observe various parts of the grounds.

Urd subdivided herself into several Mini-Urds, and her smaller selves trotted over to the guard hut without anyone noticing. They clambered up and through the window, ran over to the monitors, and melted through the glass into the innards of the cathode-ray tubes and from thence into the fiber-optic cables linking the complex's video system together. One of the guards turned his head, having noticed a sparkle out of the corner of his eye. He frowned at the monitors; they were shining oddly for a moment, but as he watched they returned to normal. He shook his head; probably they just needed routine maintenance.

Marller stared at Dr. Egret in shock. "WHAT!"

The Thrushwoman smiled charmingly. "Oh, maybe you didn't hear it quite right? Let me restate. We intend to set off a nerve-gas bomb at the victory ceremony for the International Motorcycle Grand Prix tomorrow. That bomb ought to remove, oh, let me see, anywhere from one hundred thousand to two hundred thousand Undesirables in the stands, including the entire Gotlandish royal family, the leading figures of the Gotlandish government - including the party leaders in Parliament - and all those other prominents who aren't associated in some way or other with the Hierarchy. Plus, of course," she said dismissively, "a large number of people who will serve no useful purpose under our New Order. It's really quite simple."

"It's really quite murderous, is what you mean!" shouted the demoness angrily. "I didn't sign on for this!"

Egret looked at Marller coolly. "What, then, did you sign on for?" she inquired.

"I thought this was just about raising a political ruckus so you could take over this country - and so that I could raise a ruckus with the goddesses and their friends and spoil their good time. I never intended for this to escalate to mass murder!"

Dr. Egret shook her head sadly. "Really, Marller. For a demoness, you're shockingly naive. And so easy to use," she cooed. She motioned to the Thrush soldiers posted around the command center.

"Use? What do you mean! Nobody USES a first-class demoness!" Marller growled, energy beginning to build between her clenched fists. She suddenly glanced around at the Thrushes and paled, the energy dissipating.

Dr. Egret smirked. "Ah, but you're a special case, my dear Marller, and we know the ways to control you." She bent behind her desk and then came up, holding a rather absurd-looking statue holding an arrow. "Lucky idols are said to be especially efficacious." Several of the Thrush soldiers came forward, bearing similar statues. Marller whirled around, her glance darting from one to another, sweat popping out on her face.

"What...I mean...what are you doing! Get away from me with those things!"

"Take her away," Egret commanded her troops. "I think a spell in the confinement area - possibly with a nice selection of these lovely artworks - will encourage her to, errrr, take a more positive outlook on things." As two particularly burly Thrushes came forward, grabbed the stunned demoness by her upper arms, and frogmarched her off, still surrounded by the idol-toting Thrushes, the evil doctor threw back her head and laughed in sheer delight.

In another part of the room, Angelique had watched the whole business without expression. Unnoticed by Dr. Egret, she rose to her feet, turned and left the office, retreating to her own office.

Angelique, as a highly skilled black-ops hacker, had no trouble cracking Dr. Egret's "secret" directory on the Satrapy's satellite server. She swiftly found the altered operations plan calling for the detonation of nerve-gas bombs disguised as spare gasoline tanks, and noticed that the document was flagged as having been approved by the Council and vetted by the Ultimate Computer. She made a .RAR copy of the file, transferred the copy to a diskette, covered her digital tracks, and sat in thought for a moment, then pulled out a largish attache case from under her desk. Pressing her thumbs to the reader plates on either side of the catches, she let the embedded microchips read her thumbprints, then tapped an access code into each catch - a different one for either side - and the case opened to reveal a laptop with attached red phone handset.

She powered the laptop on, then logged on to the secure portal to the Ultimate Computer and opened up her e-mail client. She began typing:

Sender: alachienfieldops.secure.thrush.xxx

Recipient: ulcompqueryulcomp.central.secure.thrush.xxx

Subject: Operation Elsinore

Request current status and readout on project designated Elsinore. Readout to include approved operations plan.

La Chien

The new-mail icon flashed seconds later, and Angelique opened the message:

Sender: ulcompresponseulcomp.central.secure.thrush.xxx

Recipient: alachienfieldops.secure.thrush.xxx

Subject: Re: Operation Elsinore

Operation Elsinore proceeding on schedule as per last regular report from Satrapy. Copy of approved operations plan attached.

END

Angelique opened the attachment, read the first few paragraphs, and gasped. This was her original operations plan for exploiting the political turmoil in Gotland! No mention whatever of nerve gas, the Motorcycle Grand Prix or assassination plots. She tightened her full lips and sent a new message:

Sender: alachienfieldops.secure.thrush.xxx

Recipient: ulcompqueryulcomp.central.secure.thrush.xxx

Subject: Re: Operation Elsinore - clarification request

Attached please see modified operations plan obtained by sender. Request review and advise as to whether modified operations plan has been approved by UlComp/Council.

La Chien

Angelique attached Egret's plan, sent the message, then sat back and waited, hardly aware that she was holding her breath. The new-mail icon flashed again.

Sender: ulcompresponseulcomp.central.secure.thrush.xxx

Recipient: alachienfieldops.secure.thrush.xxx

Subject: Re: Operation Elsinore - clarification request

Modified operations plan NOT - repeat NOT - approved by UlComp or Council. Original operations plan is only plan approved. Request origin of modified plan.

END

Angelique's breath whooshed out. She typed:

Sender: alachienfieldops.secure.thrush.xxx

Recipient: ulcompqueryulcomp.central.secure.thrush.xxx

Subject: Re: Operation Elsinore - clarification request; source of modified plan

Modified plan devised by Operative Egret. Plan represented to sender by Egret as having received clearance from UlComp and Council.

La Chien

She clicked the "send" icon, sat back again and waited. The monitor screen remained unmoving for perhaps two or three minutes, perhaps even five - Angelique was never quite sure.

Then the screen began flashing red around its borders and the "new mail" icon blinked. Angelique clicked and the message appeared:

Sender: ulcompresponseulcomp.central.secure.thrush.xxx

Recipient: alachienfieldops.secure.thrush.xxx

Subject: URGENT PRIORITY RED URGENT PRIORITY RED

PICK UP RED PHONE IMMEDIATELY. INCOMING MESSAGE FROM CENTRAL.

END

Angelique snatched up the handset. A familiar, flat voice sounded in her ear.

"This is Greaves, speaking for Central." Angelique had never been quite certain whether the voice was that of a human or generated by the Ultimate Computer itself. "We have reviewed the modified operations plan that you reported in and compared it with the original operations plan you submitted. We verify that the original plan as submitted by yourself is the only plan that was approved by the Computer and the Council. Has Dr. Egret mentioned this modified plan to you in any way?"

"No, sir," Angelique responded, her voice icy calm. "Dr. Egret represented to me that she had been appointed as mission commander to carry out the original plan."

"That is incorrect," Greaves replied. "You are the only person authorized to command this mission. We have reviewed the relevant computer files. We verify that errors have appeared in the data and returned incorrect results. The modified operations plan is invalid. Repeat, the modified operations plan is invalid. At what point does Dr. Egret now stand in carrying out the invalid modified plan?"

"The race - the Motorcycle Grand Prix - is tomorrow," Angelique replied. "Dr. Egret intends to set off the bombs at the victory ceremony."

"Acknowledged," came Greaves' unemotional reply. "Stand by."

The hiss of an open carrier wave was the only sound in the handset for several long minutes, then Greaves' voice came back.

"Orders for Operative La Chien. You are ordered to stop Dr. Egret's invalid modified plan. Given the current status, it is assessed as unlikely by the Ultimate Computer that the original operations plan can now succeed. You are ordered to prevent the nerve-gas attack from taking place and take whatever other measures you can to salvage anything possible from the situation. You are authorized to use all necessary means, including cooperation with the United Network Command for Law and Enforcement, to carry out this mission. Your priority code is Red, computer access code Heorot. Acknowledge."

"Priority Red, CAC Heorot. Acknowledged. I will comply in all respects," snapped Angelique.

"Very well. Good luck. Central out." click

Angelique replied the handset, then powered down the laptop, secured the case and stowed it under her desk again. She sighed, and her shoulders straightened as though a burden laid on them had abruptly been removed. After several moments of concentrated thought, she stood up decisively.

Angelique marched up to the cell in which Marller had been sequestered. "Open up, I want to talk to the prisoner. Priority Red business, orders from Central," she snapped briskly to the guard, who stiffened to attention, pulled out his keyring and unlocked the door. He opened it for Angelique, then closed it again as she went inside and returned to his ready position.

Marller was sitting on the bunk, trying to stay as far away as possible from several lucky idols and charms that had been placed by Dr. Egret. Angelique eyed the items, then leaned casually against the wall, crossed her arms and fixed her eye on the demoness.

"All right, give," she said.

"Give what?" Marller replied glumly.

"Whatever it was that you did with the Ultimate Computer," Angelique replied. Marller started, and Angelique smiled grimly. "Yes, I know. I did a little digging and I found out that somehow the project file's been diddled with to replace my own original plan with Egret's gas-'em-all scheme. Now, no human agency can crack UlComp to that degree, so it was really a simple process of elimination. What did you do?"

"Why should I tell you anything?" Marller growled.

"For one thing, I have this - " Angelique grabbed a horseshoe and shoved it in front of Marller's face. The demoness recoiled with a noise of fearful disgust. "For another thing, I saw the way you reacted while Egret was talking. You really don't like what she's planning to do, do you? You really didn't have any idea what she actually planned to do, did you? Talk," she hissed, grabbing a rabbit's foot and holding it up to Marller's nose.

The demoness squawked in terror. "All right! All right! I planted a bug in your Ultimate Computer to fix things so that Egret would take over the project - but I swear by Hild, I didn't know she was planning mass murder. I just wanted to make you unhappy because you're pals with the goddesses - that's my job!"

"So Urd told me," Angelique said dryly. "What sort of bug?"

"You know," Marller said in sullen tones. "One of those things that looks like a cross between a rabbit and a cockroach. Skuld's always squashing 'em with that mallet of hers."

"Yes, I do know - I've seen her do it," Angelique confirmed. She leaned forward, and Marller recoiled. "Listen to me, woman. You've caused a lot of trouble for me, and you'd better do something to help fix it. If Napoleon Solo gets hurt because of your interference, I'll come looking for you, and demoness or not, you'll regret it." She didn't hiss or growl as she said this, just spoke in a flat tone that terrified the demoness.

"Okay, okay, okay! Cool your jets!" Marller held up placating hands. "I'll help you make things right, but you've gotta get me outta here first."

Angelique nodded grimly. "Get up, then," she said. She picked up one of the idols and held it in front of her like a pistol. "Move," she said, and Marller moved.

MEANWHILE...

In one of the offices, Mariska turned to Belldandy and Napoleon, who were being held fast by large Thrush soldiers. She leaned on the desk, smirking at the prisoners. Tortensson was standing nearby, looking simultaneously nervous and excited.

"Well, Mr. Solo, I think we'll have to persuade you through your pretty friend here," she was saying, just as a strange light appeared in the monitor on the desk. One of the soldiers gripping Belldandy's arms peered at the monitor. "Uh, Captain...?"

Mariska frowned at the fellow, then turned and looked. She did a double take. "What the...!"

A long, shapely leg extended from the monitor. The limb wiggled around for a moment, then gave Mariska a tremendous kick in the jaw. The Thrushwoman flew across the room, fetching up against the wall in an untidy heap, her eyes wandering. The Thrush soldiers released the prisoners, grabbing for their rifles.

Urd pulled herself out of the monitor and glanced around. She fixed her glare on the Thrushes surrounding her sister and Napoleon and her eyes narrowed.

"Nobody...hurts...my...kid...sister!" she gritted. "LIGHTNING STRIKE!"

Thunder rolled and actinic light flared. When the dazzle faded, the soldiers and Tortensson were scattered around the room in attitudes similar to Mariska's, looking rather dazed and singed. Urd nodded once, sharply, then dusted off her hands and turned to Napoleon and Belldandy.

"That was easy," she remarked with a grin. "Shall we blow this popstand?"

"Sounds good to me," Napoleon agreed. "We need to retrieve Illya and Eugenie, though. They're in one of the other cells." He looked around and saw his and Illya's equipment piled on a table, hurried over and grabbed up his own gear, putting it back into place, and picked up Illya's things. "Let's go!"

Napoleon peered around the corner, holding up his hand to stop Urd and Belldandy from moving further. He turned his head and subvocalized, "Couple of Thrushes on guard in this corridor. I'm going to neutralize them." He ducked back and then rapped once, twice, three times on the wall. In a moment, the three could hear footsteps, and one of the Thrush soldiers came around the corner. Before he could react, Napoleon was on him, dropping him with a precisely calculated karate chop to the side of the neck. He flattened against the wall, motioning the two goddesses to do the same. The other guard came around the corner. "What was that...?" he began, but got no further as Napoleon punched him in the jaw, putting him out like the proverbial light. Napoleon examined the unconscious bodies. "Well, talk about your luck. One of these fellows looks just about my size. H'mmmmmm..." He turned and considered his companions. "Belldandy, this other one looks close to your size."

"I don't quite see what you mean, Mr. Solo...oh," Belldandy replied, as the light dawned. She got an impish grin on her face. "It's just like those movies, Nee-san, where the hero disguises himself as the villain's henchman to get inside his fortress!" she commented to Urd.

"Just remember, though, this is real life," Napoleon cautioned. He suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. "Uh, I just realized..."

"Don't worry, we won't peek," Urd said, grinning. "Though it's a temptation." She winked.

"I think I'll take that as a compliment," Napoleon replied dryly. He waited until Urd and Belldandy had turned their backs, then quickly stripped and changed into the Thrush guard's uniform. When he had dressed, he strapped his shoulder holster back on, rolled up his clothes and stuffed them under the web belt, and said, "OK, your turn, Belldandy. I'll take the watch on this corridor." He moved back up to the corner, assuming a posture of attention and scanning the hallway to either side. In a few moments, Belldandy tapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm ready, Mr. Solo. What next?" Napoleon turned and regarded the goddess, and had some difficulty keeping his face straight. Even though she was neatly turned out, every accoutrement in place right down to the black beret canted at the regulation angle, Belldandy still looked like the Blessed Madonna in a Thrush uniform.

"Now we escort Urd," he said. The tanned goddess grinned, clasped her hands on the back of her head, and assumed a hangdog air. Belldandy regarded her laser-scoped assault rifle dubiously. Napoleon reassured her, "Don't worry, you won't have to shoot anyone. Just try to look menacing." There was a strangled snort from Urd. "Uh, let me rephrase that," he amended. "Try to look stern."

"Oh, Bell can do stern, all right," Urd assured him.

Napoleon nodded. "Right, then - let's move out." Urd stepped out front and center, hands still clasped behind the back of her head, and trudged in front of Napoleon and Belldandy, who kept their rifles trained on her. They began to march down the corridor.

Nobody challenged them until they turned the corner again and entered a new cell block. There was a sort of checkpoint manned by three Thrush guardsmen. The sergeant in charge held up his hand. "Halt! Who goes there?"

"Prisoner detail, moving this one to a new cell," Napoleon snapped in his best officer's voice.

"I don't remember anything about any prisoner transfers," the sergeant said doubtfully. Napoleon sighed.

"Isn't that just the way. Nobody ever tells anyone anything. Here, can I see the manifest?" He stepped around Urd to go to the table where the sergeant was standing.

"Well, I don't remember any tan babes like this that we captured...OOOF!" the sergeant remarked as the butt of Napoleon's rifle abruptly slammed into his solar plexus, then crashed into his jaw. The other two soldiers started to unsling their rifles, only to be confronted by the muzzle of Belldandy's rifle.

"Gentlemen, please don't move," she said politely. The two Thrushmen stopped and then slowly raised their hands. Belldandy bowed slightly in thanks. Napoleon looked at the scene in bemusement. "Uh, Belldandy? You forgot to do stern."

"Oh, dear." Belldandy looked contrite. Napoleon waved it off. "Never mind. We got the job done. Now to find Illya. Where is the Russian being held?" he rapped out at one of the captured guards.

The guard looked at Belldandy, then at Urd, who was cracking her knuckles meaningfully, then back at Napoleon. "Uh...cell nine. That's right behind us, in fact. Uh...who ARE you people?"

"Goddesses," Belldandy said brightly. The guard stared. "HE's a goddess?" he asked in disbelief, pointing at Napoleon. Urd hooted. Napoleon shook his head, smiling. "I'm cross-dressing," he assured the guard blandly. "Come on, now. Unlock cell number nine's door, if you'd be so kind." He gestured with the barrel of his Thrush rifle.

The guard fumbled with his key ring, then walked over to the cell, the muzzle of Napoleon's weapon tracking him, and unlocked the door. Illya sprang out and decked the fellow with a punch, then looked up and saw Napoleon and the goddesses. "...Oh," he said.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Napoleon said, shaking his head sadly. "You really should watch that violent streak of yours, Illya. It's going to get you in trouble someday." He paused. "By the way, how did you get untied?"

Illya looked quizzically at his partner. "They untied us when they put us in the cell, of course." Eugenie had emerged, and now stood beside Illya, looking up and down the corridor.

Napoleon sighed. "Ask a stupid question..." He jerked his thumb at the two unconscious (and one awake, and looking rather discombobulated) guards. "Let's put them in the cell."

That task quickly done, the five turned their attention to considering means of escape. "Why don't we just try the same trick again?" Urd suggested. Napoleon thought, then nodded. "It might work, but you'd have to be tied up." Illya looked disgusted.

"Why is it that I'm always restrained in some way, even by my friends, in these affairs?" he asked the ceiling, or perhaps the Almighty. Urd draped her arm around the Russian's shoulder, earning a jaundiced look from Eugenie.

"Well, kid, there are some people who are turned on by the sight of little blond Russian guys in fetters, you know...it's just a kink, that's all there is to it." Illya didn't look much happier.

Duly "secured" by a rope lightly wrapped around their wrists and linked to each other, the three "prisoners" marched single-file down the corridor, followed by Napoleon and Belldandy. They soon encountered another group of Thrush soldiers, marching the way they'd come. The lieutenant in command held up an imperious hand.

"Halt!" he snapped. The little party came to a halt. Napoleon stiffened to attention and Belldandy did her best to imitate him, remembering to put on a stern expression. "What is this?"

Napoleon repeated his prisoner-transfer spiel. The lieutenant scowled.

"No such movement has been ordered today to my knowledge. Let me see your orders!"

Napoleon saluted, then dug in his breast pocket. He assumed an irritated expression. "Damn. I must have left them in my other blouse." He smiled pleasantly at the lieutenant, then kicked him in the stomach. As the Thrush officer folded up with an agonized whoof of escaping air, Urd freed herself from her "bonds", made a complex gesture with her hands, and shouted again, "LIGHTNING STRIKE!"

When the thunder had faded, the entire Thrush squad was scattered around the corridor with dazed expressions and sooty faces, curls of smoke gently rising from their blackened uniforms. "Gets 'em every time," Urd said in profound satisfaction.

"All right, let's get going!" Napoleon ordered. He tossed Illya his U.N.C.L.E. special, and Eugenie picked up a Thrush rifle. They started running.

Nursing an aching jaw, Mariska revived and stumbled over to the phone. She picked up the handset and punched in a number.

"This is Colonel van Bakker. Prisoner escape. Repeat, prisoner escape. Search and recapture!" she ordered.

A Klaxon howled. Mariska dialed another number.

"Doctor, the prisoners have broken out."

"Get them back," Dr. Egret snapped.

Angelique, marching Marller down another corridor at idol-point, also heard the siren. She raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Napoleon darling seems to be up to his old tricks again," she commented. Marller turned her head, looking a bit befuddled.

"Napoleon darling?"

Angelique looked back at the demoness coolly. "A pet name. Keep moving, now. We still have some ground to cover." She gestured with the idol, and the demoness moved along reluctantly.

"That's done it," Napoleon remarked as the escapees heard the Klaxon blaring.

"Napoleon, I suggest we find an alternate route," Illya said. He looked around. "If I remember correctly, that door should lead to the fabrication-line floor." He pointed. Napoleon nodded.

"Good idea." He trotted to the door, the others following. Opening it, he looked around cautiously. Work on building PC's was going full blast, and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to the strangers standing in the door.

"Let's clear this room," he remarked. He looked around and saw a glass-encased switch painted a brilliant red. The legend was in Gottish, but Napoleon could guess its purpose easily enough; there was a stylized flame atop the foreign words. He grinned and broke the glass with the butt of his rifle, then slammed the switch down. Another Klaxon shrieked. The workers began leaving the floor, many looking irritated or downright exasperated.

"Another bloody drill. How many of them do the bosses intend to run every month? How are we ever supposed to get anything done?" Napoleon could hear one of the workers saying.

"Wait a minute...another minute...all right, they've all cleared the factory. Go!" The five dashed through the door and ran down the main aisle, past partially assembled PC's.

"Hold on a minute," Illya requested. He made a quick detour and filched a circuit board wrapped in antistatic plastic from a pile of similar boards.

"This is an odd time to go shopping for PC components," Napoleon chided. Illya shook his head. "No, there's something off about this board. I want to look at it more closely and have Skuld take a look too."

Napoleon nodded, a bit abstractedly; they'd reached one of the exits. He opened it cautiously and peered outside. "I think we have a clear coast. Eugenie, where did you park your car at?"

"Up on the hill behind the factory," the Crown Princess answered. She pointed. "Illya and I can reach it from here. We just need some distraction."

"I think I can supply that," Napoleon smiled, pulling out several small grenades. He looked outside again, then opened the door and walked through it, waving the others after him.

They were in a side parking lot which was deserted at the moment, though they could hear the confused babble of hundreds of people from around the corner as everyone who'd evacuated at the fire alarm tried to get themselves sorted out and decide just what the hell was going on. Napoleon pricked up his ears as he heard the imperious voice of Dr. Egret barking orders.

"We need wheels," he commented. He looked over the cars parked in the lot. "This seems to be the executive parking section. In fact, there's a Corvette here which I bet is Angelique's. She loves Corvettes - collects them, in fact. I wonder...h'mmmmmmm, how about this one?" He pointed at a sleek Saab roadster.

Illya nodded. "That should do nicely for yourself and the ladies," he agreed. He walked over to the car and tried the door experimentally. It opened, and Illya twitched his lips. "Unlocked," he remarked. "Grand theft auto must not be a serious problem in Gotland."

"Good," Napoleon said. He trotted over to the Saab, Belldandy and Urd behind him. "Belldandy, take the wheel. I need both hands free in case we have to repel boarders. Can you hot-wire an automobile?"

"Leave it to me," Urd interrupted. "My own spellcasting programming specializes in fire elementals...including automobile ignitions." She laid her finger on the ignition key slot and chanted for a moment. A spark leaped from her finger to the slot and the engine came to life, roared, rumbled, then settled down to a steady purr. Urd dusted her hands off and grinned. "One stolen luxury car, started to order," she announced.

Napoleon gave her the thumbs-up and slipped into the front passenger seat. Urd opened the rear door and clambered into the back seat, and Belldandy slipped behind the steering wheel. Illya nodded. "Get out of here now, Napoleon. I and Eugenie can reach our own car easily from here - it's not far. We'll meet you back at the hotel." With a wave, he and the Crown Princess dashed off toward the wooded slope.

Napoleon idly looked around the car's plush interior and opened the glove compartment, leafing through some of the papers therein. He chuckled. "Well, well, well. This is Dr. Egret's own car, it seems! Talk about luck."

Belldandy chuckled, then looked over to the side and assumed a concerned expression. "Mr. Solo, I think we'd better leave. We appear to have worn out our welcome." Several Thrush soldiers were coming around the corner. They saw the U.N.C.L.E. agents and goddesses clustered in and around the Saab, yelled and unslung their weapons, beginning to run forward.

Napoleon hurled one of the mini-grenades and it landed in front of the Thrushes, going off with a sharp little bang. A huge cloud of thick blue smoke erupted, blanketing the guards. He threw another smoke grenade; this one produced a cloud of purple smoke. "Since when did Section Eight start making smoke grenades in colors?" he remarked. Belldandy put the Saab in gear and backed it out rapidly, then turned and goosed the sleek auto forward with a dainty foot on the gas pedal. They roared out of the parking lot while the Thrushes were still trying to get themselves organized; several of them were running toward other parked cars.

Angelique, still prodding Marller ahead of her, came out another door nearby, just in time to watch Egret's Saab disappear. Noting the colored clouds of smoke still slowly dissipating, the blonde laughed. "The good Doctor is going to be so upset," she said with mocking solicitude. She frogmarched the demoness over to her own Corvette and unlocked the passenger door. "Get in. We're going for a drive." Marller complied, and Angelique dashed around to the driver's side, unlocked the door, and slid in, placing the idol between herself and Marller, who flinched away from it. Angelique inserted the ignition key into its slot, turned it, and the Corvette's well-tuned engine rumbled to life. She backed out and drove out of the parking lot. Dr. Egret was just coming around the corner, and Angelique fluttered her fingers at the scientist in farewell, marking the puzzled and irritated expression on her face.

"What...was...that?" grated Dr. Egret. She stood in the parking lot, fists on hips, glaring. "Just where in the devil is La Chien going and why does she have Marller with her?" Another guard ran up. "Doctor, the prisoner Marller is also gone!"

Egret took that in, then her eyes flared. "I know that, you dolt! She left with La Chien. I think that blonde bitch has gone renegade on us. I knew it was going to happen. GET AFTER THEM!"

THE M4 MOTORWAY

HEADING INTO KRONHOLM

"You're pretty good driving that, Belldandy," Napoleon commented.

"Thank you," the goddess replied, smiling. "I did have some practice, after all - my Keiichi-san taught me how to race all sorts of vehicles. Besides, I'm no stranger to racing - up in heaven before I came here, I raced brooms competitively."

"Raced brooms?" Napoleon's eyebrow rose. Urd supplied an amplification.

"Kid sister here won the heavenly broom-racing championships six times. She's a regular Mario Andreotti of the broomstick set," the tanned goddess declared with a grin and a wink. Belldandy blushed.

"Wherever you picked up the experience, I hope it helps us evade those Thrushes," Napoleon declared. He peered back over his shoulder. "H'mmm, looks like we have some company." He took out his Special and started screwing on the carbine attachments. "I'm going to need some tricky driving from you in a moment, Bell - " he rolled down the passenger-side window and leaned out a little - "so get ready when I give the word."

"All right, Napoleon. Be careful!" Belldandy clutched the Saab's steering wheel a bit tighter and leaned forward, her face intent. Urd caught the expression in the rear-view mirror and whistled softly to herself.

"Oooooooh boy. Some little birdies are about to have themselves a REAL bad day," she remarked to, possibly, the world at large.

Eugenie's BMW roared down the M4 motorway toward the Kronholm city center, pursued by two more Thrush sedans. Angelique's Corvette was not far behind, chased by yet another pair of cars.

Angelique analyzed the situation and smiled slowly; she liked it. She reached over to the glove compartment on Marller's side and flipped it open, then tapped a button. A HUD appeared on the sportscar's windshield, showing digital readouts indicating the absolute and relative velocity of all the relevant vehicles and their positions, and a targeting reticule flashed in the middle.

"Right," the blonde said briskly. "First thing is, get rid of our friends in the rear. You do have your seat belt fastened? Of course you do. Good, hold on." She stomped down on the gas pedal, flipped up the cover between the seats and threw one of the switches revealed.

A thick jet of inky-black smoke blasted out of the Corvette's exhaust, blanketing the Thrush sedans chasing Angelique and Marller. Blinded by the smoke, the drivers blundered about and, trying to get pointed in the right direction again, ended up crashing into each other instead.

"That was easy," Angelique remarked. "Now to settle with the ones chasing Kuryakin."

Napoleon, his head out of the window, grimaced in the wind buffeting his back as the car hurtled down the motorway and tried to draw a bead on the pursuing Thrush cars. He squeezed the trigger of his Special and laid three rounds into one of the cars, holing the engine compartment. Smoke and steam burst out from under the hood and the enemy vehicle slewed, smashing into the guardrail and spinning until it was facing back down the oncoming lane. Napoleon saw several gray-uniformed figures emerge from the car, shaking their fists, and waved cheerfully back at them.

Belldandy looked ahead and saw the dip. She gritted her teeth and held on to the steering wheel, sending a quick system request up to Yggdrasil. The Saab roared over the hill and vaulted into the air over the dip...

...and then came down with a tremendous BANG.

Miraculously, the tires didn't blow. The big luxury sedan slewed radically, but Belldandy held on to the wheel, turning it by main force, and steadied the vehicle. She hit the gas pedal, and the car roared ahead. The Thrush vehicles following hit the same dip and skyrocketed, and one of them came down with a terrible CRASH. All four of its tires blew simultaneously, and as the Thrushes inside tried to recover from the noise, the axles cracked and the car thumped to the ground, shaking the criminals inside up like pennies inside a piggy bank. Horns sounded as irate drivers detoured around the disabled Thrush car.

The other car had better luck, preserving its tires, and blasted off in pursuit of the U.N.C.L.E. vehicle.

Angelique gave her Corvette a bit more gas and shifted into the highest gear, closing with the Thrush cars pursuing Illya and Eugenie. She pushed another button, retracting part of the grille in the car's nose, and lined up the crosshairs of her HUD on the back of one of the cars.

A pencil-thin beam of intolerably bright red light lanced out and traced its way up the back of the Thrush sedan and over, up the middle and over the top. Sparks flew and the car literally split into halves, its occupants tossed out onto the highway like rag dolls. The halves of the car immediately caught fire.

Eugenie caught sight of what was happening in the rear-view mirror and gasped.

"Illya, we've got a friend from out of nowhere!" Illya looked back over his shoulder. His eyebrows contracted in mild surprise.

"That's Angelique in her Corvette, if I'm not mistaken. I think she's got that demoness - Marller? - with her. Interesting. She's firing on her own people - at least, technically her own people - again." He turned back to Eugenie. "Keep driving, there's still another sedan pursuing us!"

Angelique returned the grille into place, then considered the last Thrush car. The driver was acutely conscious of the danger from behind, and was jinking radically to try to evade while continuing the pursuit.

"Hate to use the same trick twice running," she murmured, "but it's the best chance." She lined up with the other car, her wheels slightly ahead of the opponent's tires, and pushed one more switch. Tungsten drills protruded from the hubs of the Corvette's right-side wheels and began to spin at several thousands of revolutions per minute, whining in a tooth-twinging way. Angelique nudged her car over toward the right. The other car accelerated, avoiding the drills. Angelique pumped the gas pedal, speeding up, and nudged over a little more. Her intended target moved even faster.

This dance continued for two minutes, until the Thrush car moved a little too far over to the right in its driver's anxiety to evade Angelique's drills and scraped a line of Jersey barriers lining the side of the roadway. The driver spun his wheel to try to get away from the barriers, but the car hit a striped wooden sawhorse, smashed through it, and upended into an excavation left behind by highway workers with a horrendous crash.

Angelique nodded and retracted the drills, then noticed that the BMW carrying Illya and the Crown Princess was slowing down somewhat. She changed lanes and adjusted her speed until they were rolling side by side, then rolled down her window, noticing that Illya was doing the same.

"Truce!" she yelled over the whistling wind, hoping that Illya could at least read her lips. "We need to talk! Did Napoleon get away?"

Illya nodded vigorously and shouted back, "Follow us!"

Angelique bobbed her head up and down, gave the thumbs-up, and eased into position behind the BMW. Traveling at a somewhat more sedate speed now, they roared toward downtown Kronholm.

The Thrush agent grinned as his car pulled even with the fleeing Saab and he rolled down his passenger-side window. He aimed his automatic rifle at the driver; this would be a really easy shot...

Oddly, the girl at the wheel was looking right back over at him, though the car she was driving was maneuvering as nimbly as ever. She didn't appear frightened at all; she didn't even look particularly angry. But the look in her big blue eyes sent cold chills up and down his spine. Hastily, he pulled the trigger...

...but nothing happened.

"Huh?" he grunted. He pulled the weapon back in and gave it a quick check. Everything seemed to be OK; the round was chambered properly, no jams, no misfires. He stuck the muzzle back out the window, aimed at the girl's face and pulled the trigger again. Still nothing. There was some kind of weird glow building around the girl.

Without warning, the two left-hand tires on the Thrush car burst, and the vehicle careened out of control, smashing and crashing against the guardrails on the left shoulder with a terrible noise of splintering and tearing. There was a horrendous crash, and the Thrush agent jerked forward in his seatbelt as the airbag exploded outward from the glove compartment.

He regained his senses a moment later, and saw that his idiot driver had rammed the car straight into the rear of a parked Gotlandish Royal Police cruiser. The other vehicle's trunk door was torn clean off its hinges, and the Gotlandish police were staggering out of their car rather unsteadily, but quickly getting their equilibrium back. They saw the car that had crashed into them and began advancing purposefully.

The agent looked at his useless automatic rifle, tossed it aside, and ruefully raised his hands. In the distance he could see the Saab disappearing round a curve.

"HO HO HO HO! Steve McQueen, eat your heart out!" Urd exulted.

"I'll say. That beat anything I ever saw in 'Bullitt'. Keiichi's going to pop his buttons, he'll be so proud of you," Napoleon seconded, patting Belldandy on the shoulder. She turned pink.

"We'd better get back to the others, hadn't we? Keiichi-san will be getting worried," she said. Napoleon took a look at the rear to make sure nobody was following anymore, and nodded.

"Let's make tracks. Home, James," he said. Urd chortled.

"I'll get you a nice spiffy visored cap, Bell," she chuckled. Belldandy just giggled, and steered the Saab onto a more sedate route.

BIRD'S NEST COMPUTERS AG

Dr. Egret, coldly furious, stood in her office. Mariska was standing off to one side, still occasionally rubbing her jaw, and Tortensson stood in front of the desk.

"I blame you for this fiasco, Tortensson, you risible, blundering fool," Egret ground out. "If you hadn't panicked downtown, Solo and his friends might not have followed us here, and Marller would still be under our control - and La Chien wouldn't be on the loose either. You've bungled this whole business from start to finish." Tortensson started to stammer out a protest, but she was no longer listening. She turned to Mariska.

"Mariska...kill him."

The brunette showed her teeth, then drew her pistol and fired a single shot into the businessman's forehead. There was a second crack as the special round exploded, and the top of his head burst in a shower of blood and gore. Mariska smirked and licked her lips. "This poor fellow was really nervous. Blew his top like anything," she said.

Dr. Egret sighed in exasperation.

"I know you're angry too, Mariska, but did you have to make such a mess?"

"Sorry, Chief," Mariska apologized. "I just wanted to shut him off before he inflicted any more of that stutter on my ears."

"Well, I can see that," Egret allowed. She buzzed the outer office, and two soldiers entered. "Take this trash out," she said, gesturing at the sprawled corpse, "and have the custodial staff clean up in here."

KRONHOLM GRAND HOTEL

Napoleon and Belldandy entered the Motor Club's temporary headquarters at the hotel to a relieved chorus of welcome from the others gathered there. Belldandy immediately went to hug Keiichi tightly and assure him that she was perfectly fine, and was glomped onto by Skuld with a cry of "Onee-sama!"

Illya and Eugenie entered the room immediately thereafter. Illya was looking bemused. "Angelique is here, with that demoness, Marller. Angelique appears to be holding what looks like a Japanese lucky idol. She wants to talk with us. By the way, she knocked out the Thrushes pursuing us."

"Angelique captured Marller?" Napoleon asked in bemusement. "Well, show her - uh, show them - in."

Illya beckoned, and Angelique entered, prodding a reluctant Marller along with the lucky statue she held in front of her. She smiled at Napoleon, then turned to the others.

"Our friend Marller has something she'd like to tell all of you," she stated. She poked Marller again with the idol.

"OW! That stings! Okay, okay, I'll talk!" yelped the demoness. She proceeded to sing like the proverbial canary.

"So that's what those gasoline tanks were for," remarked Illya. Napoleon stared at Marller. "You seriously mean to tell us this whole business was, from your viewpoint anyway, just to make the goddesses and their friends - meaning us - unhappy?"

Marller nodded. "Of course. That's what I do for a living."

Urd burst out, "I've known you to pull some crazy stunts in your time, Marller, but this doesn't just take the cake - it grabs the whole damn bakery! How the hell did you expect to get away with it!"

Angelique commented to Napoleon, "Marller's also screwed up one of the best schemes Thrush had planned in years - one of MY best schemes, in fact." She glared at the demoness. "She's got a lot of making up to do. Fortunately, Central knows now and I've been given carte blanche to stop Egret's scheme."

"We'll help," Napoleon said decisively. Eugenie interrupted, looking worried.

"Napoleon, you need to know something else. I don't know if you heard the news while you were being held by Thrush, but the logjam finally broke in Parliament earlier today. A new Prime Minister has been chosen and has been asked by His Majesty - my father - to form a new government. He'll be sworn in early tomorrow morning and he and the new cabinet will be attending the Grand Prix too."

Napoleon got a grim expression on his face. "That tears it. We have got to find that bomb before the race ends tomorrow."

Illya produced the motherboard he'd filched from the factory and handed it to Skuld. "What do you make of this?"

The Norn of the Future took the board out of its antistatic packaging and examined it. "It looks like a fairly standard MSI Neo-series board for the Athlon 64...oh. Yes, I see. The circuitry is different." She pointed to a set of lines etched into the resin. "Those shouldn't be present, in that particular position, on this type of mainboard. I couldn't tell you what it's for, though."

Napoleon frowned. "If all the boards Bird's Nest is using have been altered like that, do you think Thrush is trying to crack into the Gottish computer networks?"

Angelique frowned in thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No. There are a lot of other, more efficient ways to crack networks - and Napoleon darling, I'm not giving away any great secrets, I don't think, if I tell you that we've already cracked the local networks fairly thoroughly as part of my original plan."

Napoleon nodded. "Well, we'll have to put that to one side for now and come back to it later. Finding that gas takes priority." .

ACT IV - "Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you're right about things like that?"

A FEW HOURS LATER

THE ROYAL RACETRACK, OUTSIDE KRONHOLM

Napoleon sighed in frustration. They'd been digging for hours, and hadn't found anything. He was painfully conscious of the clock ticking. They HAD to find those improvised nerve-gas canisters.

Keiichi had been sent off to bed, over his protests. The U.N.C.L.E. agents and goddesses had debated the issue at length, along with Angelique and even Marller, and concluded that the Grand Prix couldn't be called off. Eugenie was particularly firm on the issue; "This is the biggest thing to happen in Gotland in years. Besides, with the latest news from Parliament, it's going to end up as a festival of national reconciliation. Papa is NOT going to hear of it being cancelled or put off. No way."

With that option off the table, the only thing to do was to search the raceway grounds centimeter by centimeter. Skuld had cobbled up a metal-detection device, keyed to pick up the particular configuration of gasoline tanks, and made one for every searcher, but even with those, there was still no luck.

Until now.

"OI!" The yell - Urd's - came from under the grandstands. Napoleon shook off his weariness, and ran over, along with Illya, Angelique and Eugenie. Belldandy and Skuld followed hot on their heels.

Urd pointed in triumph at a stack of boxes directly under where Napoleon calculated the Royal Box would be. He ducked back outside, took a quick glance, and confirmed the supposition. Coming back underneath, he squeezed Urd's shapely shoulder. "Good work, Agent Urd." The Norn of the Past glowed, and she cast a seductive sidelong glance at Napoleon. Angelique saw the glance and raised an eyebrow at Napoleon. He cleared his throat. "Just being comradely," he said. He turned to Illya. "Odd, how those tanks could have been moved here so quickly from Bird's Nest." Illya shook his head. "No, Napoleon, I think those particular tanks were a trap set for us. This is likely to be the real thing."

"Let's get those boxes open and see what we have," Skuld stated.

"No," Illya said sharply. "Those tanks are loaded with God - or the Devil - knows what. We will NOT treat them cavalierly. We really should be in MOPP 4 at least, Napoleon. It was a major oversight to do this search without protective suits."

"You're right," Napoleon sighed. "However, we're not defenseless. Belldandy? Can you set up a shield?"

Belldandy smiled and nodded. "It's no problem at all. Wait a few minutes." She began one of her programming incantations.

She was as good as her word; within minutes, a gentle glow appeared around each mortal member of the team and also in a sphere around the stack of boxes.

Belldandy finished her incantation and nodded. "You should be all right now. The shield I set up is proof against any known nerve gas, or derivative thereof."

Napoleon nodded his thanks. He said to Illya, "Let's get to work." They walked rapidly over to the boxes and began opening them, lifting out the tanks. Skuld joined them and produced a device, scanning the tanks one by one as Napoleon and Illya set them on the ground.

"Empty...empty...empty...no go...nada...zilch...no joy...negatory...nope..." The youngest goddess frowned. "There's nothing here so far. Doesn't make sense."

Napoleon stopped his labors, mopping his brow. "We've only gotten through a few of these."

"Hey, there's the tanks for Keiichi's bike!" shouted Urd, pointing at several that Illya had just unboxed. Skuld ran her detector over those tanks, also coming up empty. "Well, we can use them tomorrow," said Urd practically.

Illya frowned. "This is not developing satisfactorily. Skuld, can you do a quick scan of the whole stack?"

"Can do," Skuld answered readily. She recalibrated her detector and ran it over the still-towering stack. She peered at the readout with a frown almost as dour as Illya's. "I don't get this. It says there's nothing there."

"What!" Napoleon, Illya, Belldandy and Angelique converged on Skuld, crowding over her shoulders to look at the offending readout.

Napoleon growled deep in his throat. "Skuld, I want you to do a thorough scan. I don't care how long it takes. There are tens of thousands of lives at stake."

"Roger," acknowledged the Norn of the Future tensely. She reset her detector again, then set to her task.

Minutes passed. Napoleon fretted. Illya sat on the ground stoically, with Eugenie not far from him. Angelique paced, as did Urd and Marller. Belldandy sat on one of the discarded boxes, outwardly calm.

At last, Skuld shook her head, her face stricken. "Nothing. Nothing at all! THERE'S NO NERVE GAS HERE!" She was close to screaming by the last word. Belldandy came over and wrapped her arms around her younger sister, who buried her face into her older sister's breast. Belldandy caressed Skuld's raven hair, murmuring wordlessly in comfort.

Napoleon clenched his jaw; he didn't want to let go of the curses he felt bubbling up around ladies like the goddesses and Eugenie, not to mention Angelique...and that last-named came over and set a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's here," she said. Her blue eyes held Napoleon's brown and pierced them. Napoleon took a deep breath and draped his arm around Angelique's shoulders, pulling her in; she snuggled up against him.

"I know it is, but where?" he said, his voice low. Angelique took his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers.

"It's here in this complex somewhere, Napoleon darling. You have to have faith in yourself and you have to have faith in the goddesses." She took a deep breath, then wrapped her arms around his upper body and held him tight.

"The Ultimate Force has brought us this far. It won't fail us now. I know it." Napoleon could find nothing to reply adequately to that fierce statement, just an equal embrace.

Illya came over, and stood quietly nearby until Napoleon looked up. The Russian set a hand on his friend's shoulder, and Napoleon gripped it with his free hand. "Angelique is right. It is here somewhere," Illya said quietly but with unshakable certainty. "We cannot give up. We must find it."

Napoleon nodded. He looked around at the others.

"Now, this bomb is supposed to go off at the victory ceremony, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"Will it really make a difference if we take a few hours off to take whatever rest we can?"

No demurrals. Angelique said, "I agree, Napoleon darling. Whatever will happen, will happen. We certainly shan't do any good if we're shambling around dead on our feet." Illya and Eugenie nodded.

"All right. We'll break off for now and continue as early as we can in the morning. Mark this place off as being searched. Everyone, try to think of whatever it was we missed."

"Dreams," Urd said suddenly. Everyone looked at her.

"Dreams," she repeated. She continued, her face as serious as anyone there had ever seen, "Listen to me. Mortal scientists say that dreams are the brain processing and rearranging the information it's picked up during the day. We ought to try to remember whatever it is we dream tonight...especially if it's anything to do with this affair."

"Anyone disagree? Anyone with a better suggestion than Urd's?" Napoleon waited. Nobody dissented. "All right, then. Pleasant dreams...well, that's probably not the most accurate thing to say. Informative dreams?" Angelique chuckled wearily, and a brief burst of laughter rose up from the others. Napoleon smiled briefly, pleased at even this small sally.

"Well, off to bed then," Angelique said with a bit of her usual breeziness, looping her hand through Napoleon's. Napoleon looked at her quizzically. Angelique chuckled again.

"Not in quite that way, mon cher, as lovely as it is with you, not tonight. I need somebody to be close to...and to dream with." Napoleon took that in, nodded. He squared his shoulders.

"Get the right dreams, and we can make it up tomorrow night." Angelique turned that old slow seductive smile on him.

"You're on, Napoleon darling."

BACK AT THE KRONHOLM GRAND HOTEL

Before he retired, Napoleon called in to New York and brought Mr. Waverly up to date.

Waverly humphed when Napoleon had finished. "Well, Mr. - er - Solo, I cannot say that this set of developments surprises me. Dr. Egret is almost as wily as Msiss - uh - La Chien, and is not enhanced...or, shall we say, hampered...by the scruples that your lady friend possesses. At the risk of repeating the obvious, you must find those nerve gas bombs."

"We will, sir," Napoleon assured his chief.

"See that you do. Having Thrush taking over an intact Gotland would have been bad enough. Having Thrush kill tens of thousands of innocent people in the process would be a catastrophe. Of course," Waverly added thoughtfully, "if Miss La Chien's information is correct, and I do not doubt her in this case, Dr. Egret is in fact acting without the sanction of the Council and the Computer. I confess, Mr. Solo, to a feeling of deja vu."

"Ever since the Harmon affair almost brought down Thrush itself," Napoleon agreed, "there's been a lot of struggle going on within Thrush. There are the people who love their wild plans and schemes like Dr. Egret and the late Stefan Andrassy on the one hand, and then we have people like Ward Baldwin and Angelique on the other side who think that all those fancy schemes have only brought their Hierarchy to the knife-edge of disaster again and again."

"Precisely, Mr. Solo. Precisely. It seems counterintuitive to support the 'moderates', as they include many of the most genuinely dangerous in the long term - because so rational and brilliant - minds in Thrush, but that is the choice we are faced with. The radicals must not be allowed to succeed in any of their plans. In this case, the ethical course is crystal clear, wouldn't you say?"

"I would," Napoleon concurred. "We'll put forth the maximum effort tomorrow."

"Very good, Mr. Solo. Good luck." Waverly broke the connection with his usual abruptness.

Napoleon closed his transceiver and walked back into the bedroom of his suite. Angelique, adorably enticing in white lace and silk, was nestled under the eiderdown quilt of the bed. She held out a creamy arm to Napoleon, who willingly took the offered hand and sank down next to her on the bed. "What did Mr. Waverly have to say?" she inquired throatily.

"That you're one of the most dangerous people around because you're rational and brilliant," Napoleon answered truthfully.

"Alexander Waverly does say the nicest things," Angelique cooed, wrapping her arms around Napoleon and kissing him. "Ah, mon cher," she sighed, placing a hand on his chest, "tonight is not the right night. Remember what I said?"

Napoleon smiled wistfully. "I do, and you're still right," he said, settling back against the pillow with his arm around Angelique's warm softness, "but it gives me something to look forward to." Angelique kissed him again.

MONDAY

THE ROYAL RACETRACK

When everyone returned to the racetrack on the day of the Grand Prix, they were refreshed, but no closer to a solution. They compared notes on such dreams as they'd had overnight, but nothing much useful seemed to have come up except a recurring computer motif. "It's that damn Bird's Nest Computers outfit," Napoleon sighed. "We've got PC's on the brain in this affair." He glanced around somewhat morosely at the beehive of activity in the infields and pit stop areas as the various teams prepared for the race.

Illya nodded, abstracted. He was scanning the grandstands again. "I wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Napoleon asked.

"Bird's Nest Computers. Maybe we've been going down the wrong track all along." Angelique turned her head.

"What's that, my dour Russian friend?"

"Computers," Illya repeated. "What if all this business about those gasoline tanks were a deliberate red herring? Think about it...we know that Bird's Nest is a Satrapy. We also know that they're lending a lot of equipment to the Grand Prix. What if nerve gas canisters were hidden in the PC's? They would not have to be very large, not if there were a lot of them. They were probably stealing those tanks to throw us off the track."

Napoleon and Angelique looked at each other, surmise dawning in their eyes. "It could be..." the blonde Thrushwoman murmured. "But Skuld's detector didn't find anything last night."

"She was scanning those gasoline tanks, first of all," Napoleon argued. "And secondly, if the individual amount of gas per unit was small, she'd have to recalibrate her detector to the proper setting." He looked around, saw Skuld, and waved her over, then explained the problem.

Skuld brightened and nodded. "I can do that!" She pulled the detector out and fiddled with it for a bit, then wandered off, holding the instrument in front of her. Napoleon, Illya, Angelique and Eugenie paced along behind.

Napoleon glanced up. People were already beginning to pour into the stands. "We don't have a whole lot of time left," he muttered. He saw Skuld waving and hurried over. The youngest goddess was excited.

"There's lots of nerve gas canisters - little ones - all over the place. It was the computers, after all!" Her face fell. "How are we ever going to get all of them collected in time, though? We'll start a panic if Onee-sama starts going around levitating PC's from all over this place."

"You're right, but we might not have to," Napoleon commented. "There must be a central detonator circuit somewhere..."

"Of course!" Skuld cried. "The modified motherboard!"

Illya heard that and came over. "I agree with Skuld, Napoleon," he said. "It seems plain now that all these computers have motherboards that have been specially modified to receive a signal from the central unit located somewhere...and we need to find that unit."

"That makes our job easier...or it would, if only we knew exactly where to start looking for the detonator unit," Napoleon commented.

Eugenie nodded. She looked at her watch. "Papa and Mama and the rest of my family will be arriving in a few minutes. I have to go join them." Napoleon nodded. "All right. Illya, Angelique and myself will keep looking."

Belldandy nodded. "I and my sisters have to get back to the N.I.T. team. The race's going to start soon." She suddenly hugged Napoleon and kissed him on the cheek. "Good luck!"

Napoleon blinked. Illya was looking at him, smiling his enigmatic little smile. Angelique was doing her best not to giggle. Eugenie was grinning hoydenishly. The CEA cleared his throat. "We're burning daylight, people. Let's search."

The green flag went down and the starter's pistol resounded, the sharp crack lost instantly in the roar of motorcycle engines and the louder roar of the standing-room-only crowd. Thirty bikes blasted off down the straightaway toward the first curve; the race's course would carry them around the winding track for a total of five hundred miles - the same as the longer-established Daytona and Indianapolis races.

Napoleon, from his post in the stands, noticed Tamiya lumbering through his "lucky cheerleader victory dance", laughed and shook his head, then turned serious again as he considered the problem at hand. The clock was ticking and still no sign of the central detonator unit. He pulled out his communicator. "Open Channel L - Solo to Kuryakin," he rapped out. Illya responded. "Kuryakin here. Any luck yet, Napoleon?"

"No joy," Napoleon answered, sighing. "What about you?"

"Empty-handed at this end, too. Eugenie has been with the Royal Family the whole time, and she said the last time she was able to go to one side and call in for a moment that she hasn't seen anything either."

Napoleon pounded his fist on the railing in frustration. "Damn it! It's got to be one of the PC's, I know it. But every one we've checked looks perfectly normal - apart from the nerve-gas canisters inside them. People are beginning to give us odd looks, especially when we open up the cases."

"All we can do is keep looking, Napoleon," Illya replied calmly. "We'll find it." There was a slight smile in his voice as he added, "After all, the Ultimate Force wouldn't allow your wish to be invalidated by the likes of Dr. Egret."

Solo nodded, heartened. "Smart Russian. Have I ever told you how annoying it is when you're right about things like that?"

Illya chuckled quietly. "Quite a few times."

Napoleon laughed. "Back to work, then. Solo out." He glanced back at the racetrack. Keiichi, he was pleased to see, was more than holding his own; Napoleon estimated that he was in about ninth place right now and biding his time for the big final dash.

Sora Hasegawa held a big sign up, signaling that it was time for Keiichi to come in for another pit stop, and he braked his BMW, steering it down the lane and up to the N.I.T. enclosure. As the Motor Club's members dashed to tune the bike up, Belldandy came up to Keiichi. She was holding a stopwatch and smiling. "You're doing wonderfully, Keiichi-san! Just a few more laps and you'll be in position to break out and make your dash."

Keiichi nodded, grinning, as he took off his helmet and mopped his brow. "I think I'm in about seventh position right now..."

"Sixth," Belldandy corrected. Keiichi nodded.

"So I think along about the 475-mile mark, I'll go for it. Is everything ready?" he called. Chihiro gave the thumbs-up.

"Ready when you are, Morisato-kun!"

Keiichi slapped his helmet back on, Belldandy gave him a quick kiss for luck, and then he was off again, roaring down the straightway onto the racetrack to catch up with the other cycles.

Illya frowned as he came back up to the Royal Stand. Almost everyone was focused on the race's climax, but Eugenie looked over at the Russian agent as he came to stand by her. "Still nothing," he said grimly. He saw something under a golden cloth sitting on a nearby table. "What's that?"

"It's part of the prize package for the winner," Eugenie replied. "The very latest PC model, top-of-the-line, fully loaded, from..." Her voice faded and she blinked at Illya. Illya stared back at her for a moment, then a light dawned in his cool blue eyes.

"Bird's Nest Computers. I think I'll stick around here and see what happens." He took out his communicator.

"Open Channel L, Kuryakin to Solo." When Napoleon answered, Illya told him to come over to the Royal Stand as quickly as he could. He replaced the communicator and looked up just in time to catch a thunderous roar from the crowd as the first motorcycles crossed the finish line and the checkered flag swept down.

"Who won?" he asked Eugenie, who was applauding wildly.

"Belldandy's friend Keiichi!" she cried.

At that moment, Napoleon came up. He heard Eugenie and spared a quick smile, then turned to Illya. "Found something?" Illya pointed at the cloth-covered object.

"I'm not sure, but I have a hunch. We'd better wait here and watch. Be ready for anything." Napoleon nodded.

King Lars was saying to Keiichi, "On behalf of the Grand Prix Committee, and on behalf of the people of Gotland, it is my high honor and distinct privilege to name you, Keiichi Morisato, the winner of the first annual International Motorcycle Grand Prix!" There was a huge cheer from the crowd, and pandemonium among the jubilant N.I.T. contingent.

The King continued, "As part of your prize, I am pleased also to award you this..." He made a sign to several of his aides standing nearby, and they wheeled forward a table on which rested an object covered by a golden cloth. The King pulled off the cloth as he announced, "The foremost product of Gottish technological achievement and innovation, the Super Thrush series of PC made by Bird's Nest Computers AG!"

More applause and cheers, but Napoleon wasn't paying attention any more. He leaned forward. "Illya - look. What's that on the back of that machine?" Illya looked, and his blue eyes narrowed to slits.

"That's a transmitter unit. Napoleon, do you think...?"

"What else could it be?" Napoleon caught Eugenie's eye. The Crown Princess was standing not far from her father. He jerked his head at the deluxe PC. Eugenie frowned. Napoleon jerked his head sidewise again and mouthed the word, "Transmitter." Eugenie glanced at the computer, then took a closer look at its back plate and her hazel eyes widened.

"Allow me to demonstrate for you, Mr. Morisato, the power of Gotland's technology. I push the power button, so..." the King was saying, as his finger moved toward the button on the stylish front bezel of the PC.

Eugenie exploded into action, leaping forward. "Papa - STOP!" she cried in Gottish.

The King froze, his finger only about an inch from the power button, and stared at his elder daughter in bewilderment. Murmurs arose from the party crowding the Royal Box as the Crown Princess bent to examine the object on the back plate, Illya joining her. He produced a small toolkit and got out several complicated-looking instruments.

"What's going on?" one of the newly appointed government ministers blurted.

Napoleon came forward himself. "Everyone, please be calm. Her Royal Highness has spotted a technical problem with the computer, that's all. My colleague is working on fixing it." I hope, he added to himself as he glanced over at Illya, who was working with controlled intensity. Belldandy had hurried up to the grandstand at Eugenie's shout, somehow managed to get through security, and was now at Keiichi's side. She glanced at Napoleon, and he saw the resolve in her clear blue eyes; if worse came to worst, she would remove her restrainer earring and unleash her full divine power to save the stadium's occupants, even if it meant getting into serious trouble with the Almighty. He nodded at her. I'll make an Enforcement Agent of you one of these days, he mouthed. Her face remained sober, but her eyes twinkled just a little in response.

A click resounded through the now-silent air. Illya expelled a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and pulled the transmitter away, cutting the wires. He looked up at the King.

"My apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty. The computer's fixed now, please go ahead."

The King blinked at Illya, then looked at his daughter, who was beaming from ear to ear in sheer relief. She nodded vigorously, and the King cleared his throat, recovered his royal dignity and continued.

"As I was saying, my friends, it is now my pleasure, Mr. Morisato, to display to you the excellence of our nation's technology!" He reached out again and pushed the power button firmly. The computer started humming, and the POST screen appeared on the LCD monitor.

Napoleon, Illya and Eugenie looked around tensely. Nobody was keeling over dead or running away in hysterical terror; no deadly clouds of poison were boiling up from the places where the altered PC's had been situated. Napoleon looked over at Illya as Eugenie began to talk urgently to her father in a low voice.

"Where were you the last time I had a Blue Screen of Death?" he asked, a little bitterly. Illya shrugged. "Installing Linux. I keep telling you how unreliable Windows is, Napoleon, but you never listen."

BIRD'S NEST COMPUTERS AG

Dr. Egret watched the distant racetrack through a pair of powerful binoculars, Mariska standing next to her. A brace of Thrush soldiers stood nearby, outfitted in chemical-warfare uniforms. Egret smiled. "Very soon now...very soon, Thrush will be absolute master of Gotland." She chuckled. "And that traitor, Angelique, will get her just deserts. I always knew she had been softened by her association with Solo."

She checked her watch. "Just about five more minutes..." She nodded at Mariska. "Get ready. We need to be ready to move on the city center and occupy the ministries, Parliament and the Royal Palace. Our agents are also in place." Mariska van Bakker nodded, her lovely face splitting into a predatory smile.

Five minutes passed. Dr. Egret glanced at her watch. "Here we go..." she said, then peered through her binoculars again. She frowned. "Odd. I don't see any sign of anything happening. I can see part of the grandstands from here."

She took another, longer look. "There's no panic. People are leaving, but they're doing so in normal, orderly fashion." As she lowered her binoculars, she frowned fiercely. "What the hell is going on?" She reached for her communicator, but it was already going off. She pulled out the unit and deployed its twin antennae.

"Egret here. Who calls?"

"This is Gunnars, at the stadium. The nerve-gas bombs didn't detonate."

"What!"

"I saw the whole thing from the press box. Solo and Kuryakin found the transmitter/detonator unit and disabled it just as the King was about to press the button. What do we do now?"

Egret's face turned brick-red with anger. "Stand by," she grated, and turned to Mariska. "The plan's blown. Those damnable U.N.C.L.E. agents have spoiled everything, and I'll wager I knew who helped them, too. We'll have to prepare to withdraw." She paced around the office.

Mariska nodded and started to leave, then stopped. "Doctor...you'd better look at this," she said tensely, pointing out the window. Egret looked, and gasped.

A large column of heavy Royal Gotland Army vehicles - British-made Challenger and Swedish-built S-tanks and armored personnel carriers - was approaching the factory gates. Police cars crowded with uniformed and plainclothes officers were accompanying them, and there was a very familiar BMW luxury roadster in the lead.

"The Royal Guard!" Mariska shouted, then began cursing vilely in her native Dutch.

"Yes - their base is just down the road from here, that must be how they were able to deploy so quickly; I know they were already on alert today. Do you see who was coming with them, though? If we kill Solo and Kuryakin, we can still salvage victory from this debacle. Get your troops ready!" Dr. Egret snapped.

Everyone burst out of the BMW at the same time as it rolled to a stop against the parking block. Angelique gripped the trusty old Luger she preferred for assault work, her lovely blue eyes blazing. "Now to settle with that bitch," she growled. "She's wrecked one of the best operations I ever devised, and proposed to murder tens of thousands of people who had nothing to do with this business into the bargain. She'd better say her prayers."

"Easy, Angelique. There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip," advised Napoleon, pulling her down behind the car door. Machine-gun fire blazed from the administration building's windows. Angelique chuckled a bit reluctantly.

"Right as always, Napoleon darling. That is an annoying little trait, you know."

"Nobody's perfect," Napoleon said blandly. Angelique glanced over at him, laughed, and kissed him quickly, then turned her attention back to the battle.

Cannon fire began to boom as the Royal Guard's tanks started to batter the complex's buildings. Explosions sounded from within and without, and it developed into a real two-sided battle; the Thrush forces holed up inside had RPG's and some ATGM's, and had no stinginess about using them. Soon, several of the Gottish tanks were burning, and the others were shifting to more defensible positions, still pounding the enemy positions. The infantry began to debark from their vehicles and deploy into assault formation.

The sudden presence of more people behind them made Napoleon whip his head around, and he beheld Belldandy and Keiichi debarking from one broom, while Urd and Skuld climbed off another. He tightened his lips. "This is a combat zone," he pointed out. "It's not safe for you to be here."

"It's not safe for you to be here, either," Urd pointed out in return. "Besides, did you really expect us to sit out the finish?" She eyed the battle. "Boy howdy, Thrush doesn't roll over and say U.N.C.L.E. easily, does it?"

Belldandy knelt, carefully pulling Keiichi behind her. "We'll stay out of the way, Napoleon," she promised, "but you might still need our help. There must be hundreds of soldiers in there." Napoleon nodded, a little reluctantly.

"All right, but don't follow us right away when we go in. Stay here and guard the rear." He turned to the others. "We're going to go for the front door. Everyone ready?" All nodded.

"OK, go," Napoleon said tightly, dashing from the uncertain shelter of the BMW's door and crab-running across the open ground. Bullets hissed past him and a few rounds tugged at his clothes, but nothing hit. He glanced back and was glad to see that nobody else in his party had been hit either. Illya, Angelique and Eugenie clustered on either side of the main entrance, their weapons trained inside.

"All right. On three. One..."

He began to ease the door open with his foot.

"Two..."

Pushing the door further open.

"THREE!"

He kicked the door open as far as it would go and dove inside, the other three right behind him.

They encountered opposition almost immediately, a squad of Thrushes racing down to the door. Napoleon and his friends had the drop on them, though, and concentrated fire with sleep darts from three U.N.C.L.E. Specials laid the enemies out in peaceful slumber on the tiled floor.

Napoleon breathed a little heavily as he considered his next move. "They're going to know we're in the building by now. Let me think..." He drew his communicator, dropping behind the receptions kiosk. "Open Channel L - Solo to Belldandy."

"Belldandy here," the goddess' voice responded.

"Belldandy, can you cobble up something to distract the enemy's attention on the inside? It doesn't have to be anything fancy, just draw them away while we get upstairs."

"No problem at all," Belldandy answered cheerfully. "Wait just a couple of minutes..."

A ball of sparkling light appeared in the middle of the lobby, dividing into four coruscating pillars. The pillars dimmed, took human shape, and resolved into very good look-alikes of Napoleon, Illya, Angelique and Eugenie. The "doubles" said nothing, but rushed off toward a set of big double doors.

Napoleon grinned. "That ought to confuse the feathered foemen. Let's go!"

They pelted up the stairs, Napoleon in the lead. "Don't get too close to the windows," he said. "The tanks might still be bombarding." Illya listened, and shook his head.

"I don't think so, Napoleon. It sounds as if the infantry has begun its assault." Indeed, the cannon fire had stopped, to be replaced by the rattle of rifles and machine guns, with occasional grenade explosions interspersed to liven the mix.

"All right. What floor would the executive offices be on?" Napoleon wondered.

"Fifth floor," Illya and Angelique said together. Angelique added, "Mariska is probably with Egret. Watch out - she's the one with the explosive specials. She's the one who actually shot the Countess."

Napoleon nodded grimly. "I'll be careful. We'll want to take her alive if we can, as well as Egret." He ejected the magazine from his Special and slipped a different one in.

They emerged onto the fifth floor, and scanned cautiously. The area appeared to be deserted, but they knew better than that. "Which way?" Napoleon asked. Angelique pointed, and they advanced single file, with Illya taking up the rear.

As they moved toward Egret's office, the firing from downstairs rose to a crescendo, then abruptly cut off as if sliced with a knife. They could hear faint cheers. Napoleon grinned tightly. "I think the Army has won the day downstairs," he commented to the others. "Time to wrap this up at our end." He fetched up against the wall next to the door opening into Egret's office and looked over at Angelique, who had taken up a position on the opposite side. She nodded, and Napoleon looked back at Illya and Eugenie. "Get ready", he said, and turned the doorknob with a quick twist of his wrist. The door flew open, and Napoleon and Angelique stormed into the room side by side.

Dr. Egret and Mariska stood there. The doctor's face twisted with rage as she saw Angelique.

"You traitor!" Dr. Egret screamed. "Mariska - KILL HER!"

The chestnut-headed bodyguard ripped out her pistol and began to aim, but Napoleon Solo was faster. He drew his U.N.C.L.E. Special and fired once into the center of Mariska's voluptuous body mass. Mariska dropped the pistol, staggered, clutched at her chest, and dropped without a sound.

At that moment, Illya and Eugenie burst into the room, guns drawn, followed by the goddesses and Keiichi. Skuld stared wide-eyed at the fallen Thrushwoman. "Is...is she dead?" she asked, her voice trembling a little.

"Not at all," Napoleon said cheerfully, keeping his pistol trained on the Doctor. "Sleep darts are a great boon to secret agents everywhere. You can shoot all the people you want and never feel guilty afterward." Indeed, they could see that Mariska's ample chest was rising and falling in a regular rhythm.

Illya drew a pair of handcuffs and bent to lock up the unconscious brunette. With his enigmatic little smile, he commented, "Napoleon would much rather bed beauties than bury them." Angelique threw back her head and laughed.

Dr. Egret snarled, "Laugh all you want, but when Thrush Central hears about this, La Chien, you are a dead woman!" Angelique, still chuckling, shook her head.

"Hardly, Doctor. You see, Thrush Central already knows what has been going on." She motioned to Marller, who came forward with a sheepish expression. "Your demoness friend has told me all about your little cracking job on the Ultimate Computer, and I confirmed that with UlComp and Central. I have full sanction from them to resolve the situation." She eyed Egret in much the way a lioness eyes a baby gazelle. "You know, Doctor, I could shoot you down here and now and earn a commendation from Central." Egret paled.

"However," Angelique continued, "if you will check your cell phone, you will likely find that Central has been trying to call you." She gestured with her pistol. "Go ahead - but move slowly."

Egret warily drew her cell phone, conscious of the weapons trained on her, and carefully opened it. She turned it on, flinched visibly at the messages she saw on the screen, then speed-dialed a number, lifting the instrument up to her ear. As she listened, she paled even further.

"You see," Angelique continued cheerfully, "I'm to take you down to Central for a little chat with the nice people there." She smiled sweetly at the scientist.

"I thought you said Angelique wasn't a sadist," Illya muttered to Napoleon.

"She isn't," Napoleon confirmed. "However, she does have a case of Schaedenfreude."

"You know," Marller remarked to nobody in particular, "maybe she would make a pretty fair demoness, at that." She blinked in surprise as everyone turned to look at her. "What?"

EPILOGUE

THRUSH CENTRAL

SOMEWHERE IN GRONINGEN

KINGDOM OF THE NETHERLANDS

Angelique sat in the waiting area outside the Council Representative's office, wishing she could hear what was going on inside. The door and walls were soundproofed, however. She sighed a bit and contemplated her elegantly manicured fingernails, then smoothed the hem of her skirt.

The door opened, and somewhat to Angelique's surprise - and a little to her disappointment - Dr. Egret came out under her own power, her face livid. She stopped and glared at Angelique. "We're not through, La Chien," she hissed. "You've won this time, but I'll come back."

"Promises, promises," Angelique replied lightly. Egret glowered again, then turned on her high heel and stormed out of the office. The Council Representative's secretary, a Latino in a sharp gray pinstripe suit, picked up his phone and listened for a moment. "He'll see you now, Ms. La Chien. Please go on in."

Angelique rose, nodded, and walked over to the door, opening it. The room was even barer than Egret's own office at Central had been; all the furniture in it was plain and utilitarian, and acoustic panels stood here and there at marked spots on the floor. Cables snaked out from the computers and communications equipment set on tables. The Council Representative himself, a slight, elderly, balding man, sat behind a huge steel desk bare except for a LCD monitor screen that was raised out of a slot.

He nodded to Angelique. "Please sit down, Ms. La Chien." Angelique nodded again and took the metal chair in front of the CouRep's desk, looking slightly apprehensive.

The Thrush executive steepled his fingers. "A bizarre business, a very bizarre business indeed. We're still trying to figure out just how Dr. Egret was able to crack the Ultimate Computer the way she did. I never believed in the supernatural myself before, but your report on this incident...well, it makes one wonder." He sighed.

Angelique ventured, "A question, sir?" The CouRep nodded. "Why is Dr. Egret still alive? I'd have thought a breach of this magnitude..."

The CouRep sighed again. "Ordinarily, you'd be right, Ms. La Chien. However, Egret does have - or did have, I should say - a sterling record in her operations on the Hierarchy's behalf, and has important supporters and friends on the Council and elsewhere. That is the great curse which bedevils us; factionalism," he noted dryly. "However, she will not be allowed to escape scot-free. She is being sent to take charge of our research facility in the Kerguelen Islands, and she will be immured there for...quite a while."

Angelique smiled a little. "I hope she likes penguins, then," she commented.

The CouRep nodded, then continued; "As for yourself, the Computer and Council have determined that no blame should be assessed to you because Operation Elsinore failed, in view of the fact that it was, essentially, sabotaged by forces beyond your control. If the altered plan had been allowed to complete, it could have wrecked the very delicate balance which we try to maintain with the United Network Command; they would never have tolerated civilian deaths on the huge scale that would have resulted, and full-scale conflict would have erupted. Therefore, a commendation has been entered in your file."

"Thank you," Angelique replied, dipping her platinum head.

"You have a fair amount of vacation time built up, I see," the CouRep said, glancing at his monitor. "You may want to take some of it, then report to...h'mmmm...Mr. Marton has expressed his interest in obtaining your services again. He has a project underway that he notes would benefit from your particular combination of talents and skills."

"That sounds intriguing, sir. I'll contact Victor when I come back from vacation if he doesn't get in touch with me first," Angelique answered. The CouRep nodded.

"Very good. You may go on about your business now, Ms. La Chien; thank you for coming to see me."

U.N.C.L.E. HEADQUARTERS

The intercom on Napoleon's desk buzzed, and he pushed the button. "You've got a visitor, Napoleon, she's parked outside Del's," the voice of the Agents Admissions receptionist stated.

Napoleon grinned. "It could only be one person," he remarked to Illya, the goddesses and Keiichi, who were all clustered in his office. Illya was deep in discussion with Skuld over a motherboard manual. Even Marller was there, still on her best behavior - perforce, since Urd had draped a horseshoe festooned with four-leaf clovers around the demoness' neck. "Let's go down and see."

They walked out into the main steel-lined corridor of Level Three and encountered Mr. Waverly. "Oh, there you are, sir. Would you like to come down and meet Angelique? She appears to be parked outside," Napoleon invited. The Section One chief nodded. "I must confess, Mr. - um - Solo, I'm really rather curious to meet this young lady who has been figuring in your affairs so much of late." He joined the little party as they headed for the elevator.

When they got outside Del Floria's, Angelique was indeed there, perched attractively on the back of her Corvette. She smiled a dazzling smile as Napoleon came out the door, plucked a white lace handkerchief from her sleeve, and waved it slowly from side to side, as one might wave a truce flag. Napoleon laughed, walked over and kissed her. "Looks like you came up smelling like roses at Central," he commented.

Angelique shrugged, daintily adjusting her fur wrap. "Well, Napoleon darling, it was another case of myself trying to recover the situation from somebody acting outside policy. Dr. Egret is still alive, worse luck - " she looked sour for a second - "but I don't think she'll be troubling us for some time to come. I do worry about the poor penguins in the Kerguelens, though. I'm not really sure they deserve to have her inflicted on them."

Napoleon laughed again and shook his head. "Well, all's well that ends well, anyway. Angelique, I'd like you to meet Mr. Waverly - you probably know all about him already, of course. Sir, this is Angelique La Chien, of Thrush's field operations division." Angelique extended a slim, white-gloved hand, and Waverly bowed over it in courtly fashion. "Charmed indeed, Miss - er - La Chien. The photographs and videos, I must say, do not do you justice."

Angelique smiled, then turned back to Napoleon. "I thought we might go out to dinner, it's just about that time of day. You're all welcome to join, of course - even Marller, as long as you behave yourself," she added, nodding to the others. Urd grinned. "Oh, she'll behave herself, never fear." She looked a question at Angelique, who nodded and winked. Urd winked back, grinning wider.

The party repaired to an Italian restaurant several blocks from Headquarters that was a long-standing popular hangout with the base's personnel, and got themselves a big private room. Much jollity and feasting ensued, along with the consumption of significant portions of the restaurant's stock of Chianti.

As Illya was taking a second helping of tiramisu, Urd turned to Angelique. "OK, bring 'er out." Angelique smirked a little, hauling a Discman with attached headphones out of her purse. Turning to Marller, she remarked, "You know, you haven't been properly punished yet for your part in this little affair."

"P-punished?" Marller stammered, looking distinctly uneasy. Angelique nodded gravely.

"Punished. Urd here has suggested the perfect penalty." With the speed of a striking cobra, she grabbed the headphones, slapped them down over Marller's ears, and before the demoness could react, switched on the CD player.

Marller's eyes widened, and she futilely tried to tug the headphones off.

"You...fiend!" she wailed, jumping up from the table and beginning to dance. Jitterbugging all over the place, she danced out the door. They could hear her cursing and swearing fade as she bounced out of the restaurant.

Everyone turned to look at Urd and Angelique in considerable bemusement. Waverly harrumphed magisterially. "Well, Miss La Chien, just what was all that in aid of?" he inquired, as he took out one of his pipes and started to finger it.

"Urd came up with the idea, actually, Mr. Waverly," Angelique answered, smiling contentedly. "You see, Marller is vulnerable to rock music. If she hears it, she literally can't stop dancing. Japanese Enka music has a somewhat similar effect on Urd - it makes her fall asleep."

"It makes a lot of other people fall asleep, too," Skuld editorialized to Napoleon from behind her hand.

"So, I just put together a compilation of my favorite tracks and set it to play on endless loop, starting with 'Jumping Jack Flash' by the Stones, with a emphasis on classic songs that mention the devil - 'Highway to Hell', 'Green Manalishi', 'Sympathy for the Devil', like that. I really wanted to record a disc full of Christian rock, but Urd told me that would have been unconstitutional - something about cruel and unusual punishment. And I Super Glued the headphones so Marller can't get them off."

"She'll be boogieing all the way back to Japan," Urd finished, beginning to laugh. The laughter spread around the table, and Napoleon shook his head in mock reproof at Angelique.

"Angelique, you have a mean streak," he chided.

"Why, Napoleon darling, isn't that one of the things you love about me?" Angelique replied, batting her blue eyes at him as she came around the table and perched in his lap.

"H'mmmmmmm." Napoleon thought about that for a second. He grinned at Angelique. "So sue me. I like to live dangerously." Angelique laughed and kissed him.

Illya shook his head. "Black widows and crazy Canadian agents," he muttered dourly to Waverly.

THE END