Napoleon was drifting, the dark water was tossing him to and fro, he wasn't fighting the waves anymore. It was so cold, he must have fallen into the Arctic ocean, his lungs so heavy and full of water that he wanted either the lack of air or cold to just take him. The silence of the water was captivating, beautiful, and helping to lull him to the edge of nothingness. He wished for death to softly take his hand and lead him away, deep under the velvet waves to peace. Slowly it seemed, light broke through his solace of water and it was sharp and harsh, he squinted his eyes, then there was pain and the water was becoming more shallow until he broke the surface. Gasping for breath and blinking his eyes it took him a full five minutes to focus on his surroundings.
He was in a lavish room with blue velvet carpet on the floor and walls done up in gold paint and ornate crown molding. The door had a glided nob and was to his left, also along that wall was a long narrow table with a vase of red roses on it and gold frame mirror hanging above it. The wall running behind the door had a large chest-of-drawers sitting along it, it was oak and sturdy but a beautiful piece of furniture, beside it with a little space between was a make up vanity with an oval mirror and a delicate chair in front of it. Napoleon only then realized, after looking down at his feet and seeing his reflection in the vanity mirror, that he was laying in a four poster bed with a dark blue canopy that accented the carpet, he a top a soft comforter with a silk covered pillow behind his head- there were no windows.
Napoleon saw no on else in the room and he wasn't bound, he tried to lift himself up but even raising his head was too hard to do. Not only did his head hurt but he was weak, so weak, he managed to raise his arm to wipe the sweat from his brow, once this task was done his arm fell heavy back down by his side. Where was he? 'THURSH headquarters, surely,' he thought. But where was Illya? Illya had been with him before he had been brought there hadn't he? Hadn't he? 'Oh yes, I reached out for Illya, he had looked away. Smoke filled the room and now I'm here,' he recalled. He chided himself for showing such weakness in front of his partner, no not his partner, Illya. He knew of days when he didn't care to show emotion of any kind in front of his partner, when his partner had shown emotion to him, those seemed like the good 'ole days. God how he missed Donny. His former partner of seven years, Donny Spitz who had been killed by THURSH during in an affair in Albania. Napoleon closed his eyes holding back tears, how empty and lonely he had felt for months after, Mr. Waverly had given him six months alone, working on what could be called 'simple' missions that were relatively not too dangerous. Then Mr. Waverly had introduced him to Illya formally and he knew his grieving period was over, he now had a new partner who was cold and unfamiliar, a new partner who was only interested in their work and who seemed to put a wall up between them, a new partner who was definitely not Donny Spitz. 'Now is no time to mourn or reminisce, Napoleon. You've got to work on getting out of here,' he told himself.
Before he could try to get up again the door opened and a woman came in with a smile, seeing her Napoleon gave a rueful grin. "Ah, dear Wendy, I don't suppose you'll give me that second date, hmm?" he asked. His voice even sounded weak to his own ears.
Wendy laughed. "I wouldn't count on it, Mr. Solo," she said.
"Oh, we're back to 'Mr. Solo'? Last night, or was it two nights ago? It was Napoleon," he said.
"Well I had to wine you and dine then, in order for you to be here," Wendy said, she sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I believe I understand, you gave me poison or something of the sort," Napoleon guessed.
"That's right. I made you ill by putting a toxin in your food, you see, I knew what was going on here so I knew Mr. Waverly would send you, not to defeat us but to help us," Wendy smiled.
Napoleon swallowed, mouth dry but stomach stable. "You're obviously working on whatever is happening here. Coincidentally, what is happening here?" he asked.
"Ming will tell you, he's coming," Wendy said.
As if on cue an Asian man came through the door, he was of medium height with jet black hair and brown eyes, he smiled as he walked to the end of the bed to look at Napoleon. He wore a black suit that looked expensive with a white shirt underneath and a maroon tie. "Nappy! It's been years!" he proclaimed.
Napoleon stared at him a moment and when the realization hit him his mouth popped open. "Tommy Tang?!" he asked.
"Well, I'm Ming Chang now, president of Singapore," he smiled.
"So THURSH has infiltrated the new government then," Napoleon said.
Ming laughed. "Yes we have, we run it as a matter of fact. It would seem we chose different paths after Yale, Nappy, it's too bad our choices have made us enemies," he said.
"The boy I knew at Yale must have died to become a THURSH agent. He was always fighting for justice," Napoleon said.
"This is justice, Nappy. If someone needs to be killed we kill them, if a government needs to be replaced, well, we replace it, if we want money we take it. What we want most is to rule every major world government, Singapore is a good start and you're going to help us with a few others," Ming said.
"Singapore just could be a good place to die, Tommy," Napoleon said through gritted teeth. He was gripping the comforter as dizziness came on him like a raging flood.
Ming laughed. "Only for you, Nappy, if you don't help us," he said.
"Wendy mentioned that, help you with what?" Napoleon asked, squeezing his eyes shut to escape the spinning room.
"You are one of the only active U.N.C.L.E. agents that know where the military and missile installations are located in Japan, China, and India. We want that information so we can bomb them and take over, now if you'll just tell us we can get things in motion," Ming said.
Napoleon laughed. "You just think 'puff!' I'm going to tell you?" he asked.
"Yes. Because if you do not you will die," Ming warned.
"I've been threatened with death before," Napoleon touted.
"So you have, I'm sure. But in this case your death has already started, you see the toxin Wendy gave you is slowly killing you at this moment. It is designed to make you suffer for the period of four days until you die of asphyxiation. But if you tell us what we want to know we will give you the antidote and you will recover," Ming explained.
"Recover for what? To be shot?" Napoleon asked.
"Tsk, tsk, Mr. Solo! Don't be so negative!" Wendy grinned.
"W-where's Illya?" Napoleon asked, starting to feel sick again.
"The blonde Russian? He was left at the hotel, he will never be able to find you, you must give up that hope, Nappy," Ming said.
Napoleon didn't answer, maybe Illya wouldn't come, what if he didn't? Napoleon couldn't think clearly, he gripped the comforter tighter.
"We'll leave you alone for a time, when you feel worse we'll come back and ask you again," Ming said. He and Wendy laughed as they left the room.
As nausea spread over him again Napoleon felt utterly helpless. "Oh please, Illya, find me," he said aloud. He doubted all his abilities as an agent as he rolled over onto his side and threw up in a bucket they had waiting for him.