Napoleon was embroiled in an internal conflict that threatened to undo his most precious commodity: his word.
The Chief Enforcement Agent of UNCLE Northwest had told his boss, Alexander Waverly, that he would wait for reinforcements. Now, standing above where he believed his partner was being held, Napoleon was unsure if he would be able to keep his word to the old man. It was too much to ask of him, and the other men on this mission would agree if the decision was made to go on into the enemy's camp.
"Ned, how long of a drop do you estimate it is to the opening below us?"
Solo had an idea of it, but confirmation in this situation was critical. Ned peered over the rock ledge from the only vantage point he could manage; it wasn't much but they were in a precarious location.
"It…ouch…um…it looks like about thirty feet, Napoleon. There is a ledge that appears to have some type of weaponry mounted. If there are guards there, well…"
Ned let that trail off, not certain how he wanted to finish it. Napoleon didn't like the sound of it. They were in a dangerous spot just being here. Superior planning would have kept them farther back and out of sight. He winced at the lack of self-control in his quest to rescue Illya. Mr. Waverly would not approve.
Carl, who was holding onto Ned's feet as an extra precaution against falling, began to haul the other man back into a safer spot. All three men retreated to the trees behind them, maintaining at least a modicum of coverage and stealth. They each wondered silently if the enemy had already spotted them.
Beneath the imposing landscape and deep within the cave, Illya had succumbed to the freezing conditions and was completely unaware of the men who hauled him up from his icy cell. The Russian never felt the rough treatment as they transported him to the new, warm surroundings that would greet him upon awakening.
Kuryakin was of no use to this group unless lucid and able to give them the information he had so completely obliterated. The threat of freezing had not worked, so perhaps a modicum of kindness and a good meal would be more persuasive. It had taken the Russian agent hours to yield to the freezing temperatures, and a few hours more for him to revive would be permitted.
Illya was dreaming of snowflakes and forest creatures all in varying shades of white; he was surrounded as they circled in a type of dance. Music accompanied the odd characters; the melodies written by a Russian composer whose name didn't immediately come to mind. It was not unpleasant any longer, and the warmth was melting the vision, slowly, as consciousness returned.
"So, Illya, you have decided to come back to us. You are more comfortable, I hope."
It was that voice again, the disembodied sound of an enemy. It was a familiar voice, with a deeply intoned British affect that was a reminder of something…
Illya didn't open his eyes completely; the light an abrupt interruption to what had been a serene interlude from the turmoil of the past fortnight. He needed to see who was speaking, but the memory of it was enmeshed among tattered images of Thrush and water, secret documents and Waverly himself. Nothing was clear or concise, yet.
The touch of a hand on his face startled Illya into total awareness. Opening his eyes he looked up into the face of a man he knew, but up until now had never feared.
Three UNCLE agents huddled within the shelter of the forests' edge; the final glimmer of sunlight long past, the evening was fully upon them. It would be cold tonight, and reinforcements were not anticipated until dawn. If Napoleon had any intention of mounting an assault before then, it would need to take place sometime after midnight, he reckoned. Coverage within the cave compound below them would most likely be more relaxed during those hours before dawn, possibly allowing them the opportunity to surprise whoever was in there.
As Napoleon considered his options, they came down to two likely scenarios. He and his two agents could rappel down into the opening of the cave, completely surprising the enemy and risking everything in that one encounter. Or, they could continue to search during the night for what must exist: another entrance.
Napoleon felt certain now, that Waverly's plan was going to be a frontal assault, via helicopter, to gut the interior with a barrage of incendiaries and firepower. Illya would be killed along with everyone else inside. Solo's stomach twisted as he considered that probable course of action; it was unacceptable, regardless of the amount of regret it would engender from Waverly. Napoleon could rescue his partner and destroy this group, he was certain of it. What he couldn't do was watch it play out without an attempt to rescue Illya.
Napoleon, Ned and Carl discussed their options briefly, and agreed to mount the search for a second way in. Doing it in the dead of night held obvious disadvantages, but they were countered slightly by the sheer lunacy of it: who would suspect a search in the dark?
There was a trace of moonlight illuminating the UNCLE agents as they began their search. Napoleon cautioned Ned and Carl against utilizing the small flashlights that each man had in his backpack. The object of the search was an opening that would take them to the caves beneath them. Napoleon was certain by now that an easier way in could be found, and that those who occupied the hidden fortress would not depend on the cliff face for their entry. Vigilant for any sign of sentries, the three agents began their meticulous search, slowly and diligently examining every tree and rock, the ground beneath them and even an occasional bush.
By midnight, there was a dense fog to further complicate the situation. Napoleon was about to yield to frustration when he ran headlong into a large boulder that was partially hidden by low brush and a slight stand of trees. Carefully examining the surface with deft fingers, it took only a few minutes to discern a continuous crack that framed what could easily be a door. Whether a lack of security or an abundance of confidence in this subterfuge, Napoleon cared little. He had what looked like his answer.
Napoleon whistled, a sharp and impressive imitation of a seagull, the agreed upon signal. Ned and Carl heard it and made their way back to where Napoleon was standing by the newly discovered entrance to the caves below.