As Duane led the two UNCLE agents deeper into the mine complex, each one was aware of the doors closing behind them. Napoleon cut a glance to his partner at the sound of the clicking lock, to which Illya merely nodded. It was pointless for now to try and resist whatever lay ahead of them.

Illya continued to take pictures, not letting on that a rising sense of danger was quickening his pulse and causing a twinge of pain behind his eyes. Regardless of how often he walked into danger, his body insisted on trying to plunge him into anxiety. No matter. His mind was in charge, and just as the adrenaline caused the initial response, his ability to subdue all of it trumped his natural reactions.

Napoleon was handling his own set of concerns. If Duane had spotted them this easily, then his act was a very convincing one. He obviously possessed some advanced skills in detecting UNCLE agents, unless they treated every stranger to this tour.

Illya spoke casually, and hoped that Duane didn't speak French.

"Vous sentez-vous chanceux?''

Napoleon smiled. He always felt lucky.

"So, ahh… Duane, what sort of tour are you taking us on today? I'd love to see some of the gems that your people are claiming out of this mine.'

He paused briefly, in case Duane actually was in the mood to answer.

"Yeah, I've actually seen some of the diamonds that have been discovered in Arkansas. That was amazing news. Do you people have a media consultant? Surely someone is in charge…"

Duane stopped and whirled around to face his two charges.

"Me. Solo, that's just about enough talkin' from you. And, by the way Mr. Kuryakin, luck won't help you today."

Illya didn't blink, but stared at the surprising Duane with equal amounts of disdain and insolence. He heard the approach of someone behind him, but was unable to escape the muzzle of a gun as it came to rest between his shoulder blades.

"Anything else, Mr. Kuryakin?"

Duane looked like the Cheshire Cat, both devilish and crazed. Napoleon decided to not resist, especially with a gun at Illya's back.

"What, exactly, do you want from us, Duane?"

The Thrushie laughed, seemingly amused at Napoleon's question.

"Mr. Solo, I think the real curiosity here is what you want from me. Here we are, providin' jobs and security for some of these folks, and you show up and, I can just imagine it, you're here to shut us down. Am I right?"

Napoleon turned his head towards Illya, both men resigned to their usual ruse of innocence in situations such as this.

"Duane, really, you injure me with that type of accusation. I am here to write a story. That's all. You must have me confused with someone else."

Duane huffed at that and motioned for the man guarding Illya to escort him through a door to their right. It didn't seem right, somehow, that Illya should go without a fight. His earlier good judgement was eclipsed by his flight or fight impulse as Napoleon watched for just the right opportunity to join the fray that was surely going to ensue.

Without giving away his intentions, Illya spun around and knocked the gun from the guard's hand. In the same motion, or nearly, Napoleon lashed Duane across his formerly smug features, stunning him into a defensive posture that only pretended to be such. Without too much effort, Napoleon was able to subdue Duane just as Illya was putting the final blow to the back of his opponent's head. As the two Thrush went down, the UNCLE agents quickly ascertained the success of his partner and started the job of dragging the downed men into the corridor to which they had been headed earlier.

"What do you think? Can you get into his uniform?"

Napoleon figured Illya was a few inches shorter and about fifty pounds lighter than the guy he was hauling through the doorway. Duane, on the other hand, was about Napoleon's size.

"It will not be pretty, but perhaps you should take this … larger uniform. At least his will only be a little bit oversized on me."

Illya was fairly certain of the outcome. Even though they hoped to not run into anyone, Napoleon had to agree that even Thrush wouldn't hand out their uniforms in such a disparate manner. He had to at least attempt to look as though he owned his clothing.

"I suppose you're right. Just hurry up, before someone comes looking for either of these two."

With little lag time in the process, Illya and Napoleon emerged from an anteroom dressed in the confiscated uniforms. The two men who donated them were tied up and gagged behind some supplies. A single sleep dart each insured they wouldn't need tending for several hours.

The task at hand was to locate the control center and relieve Thrush of their mining operation. The report UNCLE was working from indicated a laser capable of great havoc if it continued to be supplied by the sapphires and other precious gems in this mine. Once sufficient quantities were harvested, the laser could be armed and used to hold most of the world hostage. As of today, that plan was cancelled.

Illya led the way as he and Napoleon made their way to what they hoped was the center of the operation. Various arrows and signs seemed to indicate a direction, and the men made their way now in accordance with those.

The halls were empty, and the only noise was a distant hum that was, they reasoned, the machinery in the mine. Illya was relieved to reach a set of double doors clearly marked OPERATIONS. He opened the door slowly, sticking his head in ahead of his body. Seeing the room empty, he motioned for Napoleon to follow him in. At a console sat what appeared to be a robot of some sort. It was almost like a stick figure drawing, all straight lines with a round egg shaped head that was clear, allowing its mechanism to be seen whirring within.

"Illya, what is it?"

The Russian wasn't certain he knew, but drew closer to the object for further investigation. When he had gotten close enough to touch it, the head began to flash and emitted a high pitched sound that caused both agents to clap their hands over their ears.

"Chyort! Stupid, stupid…'

Illya shot it, somewhat regretfully but with little hesitation. As the head exploded from the impact, the entire mechanism slowed down and whirred a last, pitiful squeak before crumpling into a heap on the floor.

"I would rather have examined it, but hopefully that signal did not reach anyone."

Napoleon straightened up from the crouching posture he had assumed, a bewildered expression on his face as he edged a little closer to the metal and wires that had been, he now supposed, the brains of this mining business.

"What the hell… Do you think there are more of these?"

Illya was picking at the remains. He looked at his partner and then back at the ruined robot.

"I hope not. Although, it would explain why there are so few employees and so few Thrush…"

His words trailed off as his eyes caught something on the control panel. Working his way past the ruined robot, Illya moved towards what had caught his attention.

"Well, this might be helpful."

Napoleon craned his neck to see over Illya's shoulder. It took him a minute to identify what his friend was referring to, and then required an explanation. Sometimes it was handy having a man on his team with Illya's credentials.

"What is it, Illya?"

The blond straightened up and looked at his partner, a glimmer of a smile beginning…

"I don't know where to begin."