After dinner it was agreed upon to explore the ship, not an unusual activity for the passengers. Illya and April excused themselves with glib comments about dancing the night away, while Napoleon chatted with his table mate, the contest winner. Her name was Cynthia Evans, a pleasant enough young woman, a blonde with brown eyes that, upon close inspection, betrayed the unnatural color of her hair.

That wasn't enough to pique Napoleon's suspicions about her, but something was off. He didn't think she was THRUSH, but something niggled at his brain in a way he wouldn't be able to push aside.

The dining room was beginning to empty as guests assumed the schedule of entertainment presented for them. Delilah and Neville decided that dancing in the Grand Ballroom appealed to them, as it had to Nick and Rita Ramsay, aka Illya and April. Napoleon bade them a good evening, alert to the nuances between them that might indicate something more than a marital relationship.

Madelyn and Roger Durning remained at the table, eager it seemed to engage the handsome American in conversation. Cynthia was not talkative, but somehow Napoleon sensed that she was taking in every detail of the night. Something about her made him fairly certain that the story of being a lucky contest winner was nothing to do with luck.

As the wait staff cleared tables under the glistening chandeliers, Roger Durning took out a silver cigarette case, opening it to show a row of Benson & Hedge; Napoleon's brand.

"Care for a smoke?" It was a casual invitation, but the underlying tone sent a chill up Napoleon's back. Madelyn seemed to tense slightly, then announced she was going in search of the ladies' room.

"Care to join me Cynthia?" The faux blonde looked surprised but recovered quickly enough.

"Oh, well, yes. I think I could do with a little, um… yes. Thank you." The two women rose from their chairs and left the men to their cigarettes. Napoleon watched them as the crossed the room, dodging tables and waiters. This was a set up, he had no doubt of it.

"So, traveling alone and writing about what? The cruise, the destinations?" Durning took a drag on his cigarette, blowing a perfect smoke ring while never taking his eyes off of Napoleon.

"That's the job. What about you? What keeps you occupied when you're not cruising around the world?" This little dance wouldn't last as long as the one in the ballroom. Napoleon already knew what this fellow did for a living, he could sense it.

"Listen Mr. Solo, I don't know what you're doing on board this pleasure boat, and I sure as hell don't know how you're connected to that couple…" Napoleon smiled at the obvious fishing expedition.

"What couple would that be?" Durning took another drag before crushing the half burned cigarette in the crystal ashtray. Napoleon took note of the slight bulge in the immaculately tailored tuxedo.

"You know I'm talking about the fellow with the fake British accent. The one whose real home is the USSR. Your uncle doesn't have any business in Bali, or Jakarta… Stay out of trouble Mr. Solo. We can't protect you, and we won't protect him."

Napoleon crushed his cigarette and smiled at the threat he was hearing. CIA on board. That was interesting.

"Why don't we just agree to stay out of each other's way. We have our own agenda, and I doubt very much that it has anything to do with whatever you're after. As for my friend, since you seem to have identified us both, he is an UNCLE agent, which means that is his only interest. If you touch him you'll have me to deal with, and I don't think you'll want to add that to whatever you're into."

Napoleon saw Madelyn and Cynthia out of the corner of his vision. He stood up to welcome them back, bidding them a 'good evening' as he left them at the table. He was aware of them conversing, amiably and with a degree of familiarity that betrayed something to his keen observation. The knew each other, were undoubtedly all CIA operatives.

As Napoleon was leaving the dining room, April and Illya were already heading towards their stateroom. The plan was to meet with Mark and Napoleon in order to trade observations, share whatever information may have been obtained. They'd only been onboard for nine hours, so expectations were limited.

Mark let himself into their room and waited for the others. Dressed as he was in a stewards attire, no one paid attention to his presence in the passageway as he knocked and then opened the door as though speaking to someone.

April and Illya arrived a few minutes later, still in character as the loving couple, Nick and Rita Ramsay. They were aware of being watched and then followed, probably the Cheswicks. Illya was fairly certain that they were involved in some sort of espionage, he hadn't quite figured out for whose side yet. In an effort to put them off at least a little, after opening their stateroom door Illya swept April up into his arms in order to carry her into the room. He miscalculated the damage to his rib, faltering slightly but determined to not drop her in plain view of whoever was watching them. He kicked the door shut behind him and then collapsed onto the bed with her still in his arms, his face ashen from the pain.

"Illya, what on earth? Oh my god, you've damaged yourself." April's surprise was now mixed with concern as Mark appeared to help her off the bed.

"Say mate, you should be more careful with this act of yours.' Mark winced in sympathy as he held out a hand to help Illya sit up.

"Who were you performing for?" He realized that Illya wouldn't have acted that way if he weren't doing it for someone else's benefit.

"I … ahhow, chyort!' The pain took his breath away.

"I think the Cheswicks were watching us. I caught a glimpse of Neville a few passageways back." April had gone into the bathroom to retrieve some aspirin. She didn't know what else to do.

"Here Illya, take some aspirin, at least dull down the pain." He accepted the pills and a glass of water, downing them quickly.

Mark was looking around the room, whistled an admiring tune as he compared it to his own meager quarters.

"This is nice. I have to say, I envy you just a bit. All I've got is a bunk and a lavatory, and barely enough room to get dressed." April took his arm and held on tight. She missed being with her partner, wished he could be closer to them during this voyage.

A knock at the door had Mark up and playing the steward's role in earnest.

"Good evening Mr. Solo. Please come in." Napoleon nodded, took in the room as he began the ritual of checking for 'bugs'. One by one the others joined the search until they were satisfied the room was clean. Turning to face his team, he began…

"We have a problem."