Illya ducked unseen into a maintenance closet, pulling his communicator.
"Channel D- Napoleon? ... chyort." Nothing.
He activated a homing device in the pen, luckily picking up a signal; following it as it increased in intensity. Illya found himself led to the first class deck, nearing all too familiar cabin numbers.
"Nyet, he did not?" He sighed, drawing his Walther as he kicked in the door.
"Hi there. Glad you could make it." Napoleon was tied spread-eagle on the bed, in a complete state of undress; the quilt draped discreetly to offer him some dignity. A gift from his captors.