Once the conclave began, the sleeping arrangements would drastically change to more basic accommodations, minimally furnished, actually austere in comparison to what the cardinals had at the moment.

Napoleon and Illya would be required as assistants to room with their respective Cardinals, sleeping in small bedchambers connected to the main quarters should their cardinals need them.

Communication between the partners would be limited and discretion would be necessitated. Still the agents had a way around that problem, something they'd worked together.

Napoleon opted to shower after their long flight while his partner continued through the notes given to them. Once Solo came out of the bathroom, Illya decided it was time for a shower as well, but a cold one as jet lag was setting in; he had started to nod off.

One he was finished, there was barely an hour for both of them to catch cat naps before the call to Vespers came.

Later that evening all the Cardinals, as well as their assistants and others associated with the conclave gathered in the Pauline chapel. Napoleon advised Illya to follow his lead, and that's exactly what the Russian did.

Unlike the Orthodox church where people stood the entire time, the Catholics did a lot of kneeling, standing and sitting. Illya watched like a hawk to follow along without giving himself away.

At the same time, he and Napoleon were studying the named Cardinals who were within their field of vision for all the good it did as everyone of them looked like pious men, and devoted to their calling.

After Vespers the cardinals and conclavists were escorted back to their quarters for the evening to take their dinner in their rooms.

Nuns prepared meals of soup, spaghetti with meatballs, along with boiled vegetables on the side; it was similar to that served in hospitals and not very appetizing.

After being served their very spartan dinner in Napoleon's room, Illya continued to go over the biographies with a fine tooth comb. Where information was lacking, they called via their communicators into the Intelligence Section in the Rome headquarters of UNCLE to try to fill in the gaps.

Napoleon pushed his dinner plate away in disgust.

"Being in Italy one would expect some really good Italian food, but how can they ruin spaghetti?"

"It was not that bad, Illya speared one of Solo's meatballs from his plate."

"This coming from a man who will eat just about anything."

"Napoleon, I always say, food is food. When one is hungry you can not always be choosy. Perhaps there is a method to their madness in serving poor quality food, and that is to get the cardinals to hurry in making their decision."

"That actually makes sense, bad food, spartan sleeping conditions," Napoleon picked up another folder, leafing through it, but nothing stood out to him.

"Did you know," Kuryakin continued on the subject of food," that In 1268, a conclave began that lasted nearly three years, 33 months to be exact. Pope Gregory X was elected pope, but not before residents of Viterbo, north of Rome, tore the roof off the building where the cardinals were staying and restricted their meals to bread and water to make them hurry up."

"Hoping to avoid a repeat, Gregory decreed in 1274 that cardinals would only get one meal a day if the conclave stretched beyond three days, and served bread, water and wine if it went beyond eight. Thankfully for us his decree was abolished soon after. "

Napoleon chuckled at that thought, knowing his Russian partner's boundless appetite. He wouldn't have fared well under such conditions, then again having been held prisoner by THRUSH over the years both he and Illya had been limited to one meal a day if that, and it was never anything palatable.

Illya, in a moment of candor had spoken about his nearly starving to death not only as a child but over the course of his career in espionage. "Such experiences have made me appreciate any meal."

"Tovarisch, you really have done your homework, though that sort of trivia really won't help us out much will it?"

"I suppose not, but I did find it interesting reading." Illya picked up another folder.

There was little that caught their attention in regards to each of the named papabili, except for Cardinal Siriano.

Oddly enough he'd been in the running to be elected pope in 1958 and there was a rumor he'd actually been elected but was forced to step down in favor of Cardinal Roncalli, who was to become Pope John XXIII.

The exact details of that were impossible to find as each member of a conclave was sworn to utter secrecy, and nothing taking place within was ever to be made public by any means.

Other than the question of Siriano supposedly being elected and deposed, each man was squeaky clean, and a beloved religious leader in their respective communities.

It was two in the morning when Napoleon and Illya finally decided to call it quits. They were both exhausted and knew they had a long day ahead of them, and that was before they were even locked inside the Sistine Chapel.

"Illya, this is going to be harder than I thought," Napoleon sighed. He'd changed into his pajamas and had just crawled into bed.

"So I think a little additional subterfuge is in order."

"What do you have in mind my friend." Kuryakin had stripped to his underwear, foregoing pajamas as he crawled beneath his bed sheets with a sigh.

"We'll talk about it in the morning. I need to sleep on it some more. Good night... Illya? "

Napoleon canted his head to one side; he could hear a light snore coming from his partner and smiled, thinking he had the right idea. It still amazed him how Illya could fall asleep so quickly.

He closed the light and settled in for the night with a sigh

When Illya woke just before sunrise he saw his partner creeping back into their room.

"Where were you?"

"I had to speak to Cardinal Spellerman about helping with my plan."

"At this time of the morning?"

"Hey, this is normal rising time for him; he spends his morning in prayer. We have time for a little more shut eye before we need to get ready. He's asked me to join him for breakfast, as well as you and Cardinal Wiśniewski ."

"And what is your plan Napoleon?" Illya stretched, he was awake now and had no need to go back to sleep.

"Bugs my dear Kuryakin."

"Bugs? .Ooooh, bugs. I understand, "Illya paused," Napoleon they will be sweeping for bugs ahead of time."

"I know but we'll plant ours once the Sistine Chapel has been locked down."

The Russian nodded his approval.