Chapter Four
What it's not: This is not about hot sex. With anyone, really. I swear. Well, maybe a little steamy.
A convenient turn of her ankle and April needed the assistance of Bob to get to their bedroom, this, the courtesy of Napoleon's recent fictitious back injury.
Now, they were alone in the room that featured a fireplace with a roaring fire, a four-poster king-size bed and a view of the sea. The storm had died down, but Napoleon could see the outline of trees blowing wildly in the wind. In the morning, they would have a great view of the sea.
Napoleon closed the draperies and walked over to April who was sitting on the bed massaging her ankle.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
"Fine. Just a tiny twist. Nothing serious." She looked up at him. "I don't know how I could have been so clumsy."
"Maybe the three-inch heels you were wearing." He smiled, and leaned down, claiming her lips in a passionate kiss. It was strictly in the line of business, but it felt strange. They'd never played lovers before. Still, it was important to keep up appearances. He had every reason to suspect the room was loaded with spy equipment. He'd seen several possible cameras on the way to their room.
They broke the kiss. Now it was time to do what any decent Thrush would do—check for surveillance equipment and make a show of it.
He reached into his pocket, removing a small device the size of a cigarette lighter. He pulled an antenna up and started his tour of the room, aiming it from ceiling to floor before making his way to the bathroom. Finally, he returned to the bedroom.
"Okay, Mr. Scott. To be clear, that little show you just saw is all you're getting. I'm turning off your little feature film." He moved around the room slower this time, collecting various spy equipment that had been tucked throughout the room. He had found four cameras and three microphones by the time he finished. He wasn't fooling himself. Scott had access to the best spy equipment in the world. He could easily have something impervious to detection, but it made him feel good to disconnect the ones he'd found.
"All better," April said as she stretched out her foot. "I told you it was nothing. My ankle is as good as new." She rose. "I need a shower." She took off her dress and let it fall to the floor. She was wearing a flimsy slip.
"How bout I join you?" he said huskily.
She looked back at him, arching her brow. "Why do you think I wanted to take a shower?"
April sauntered into the bathroom. A moment later Napoleon followed. He closed the door and turned the shower on full blast. He was grateful the room was small. Just a sink with a large mirror over it. And a rather large shower stall. Scott could have all the high-tech equipment in the world, but it still couldn't circumvent the low-tech sound of running water. He'd covered the mirror with a towel during his earlier scan for cameras. This was their safe room.
April grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself. "Sorry about the display," she said, clearly embarrassed.
"We don't have a choice. We both know he's probably got surveillance equipment all over the place. Besides I've seen you wearing less on a few missions."
"Somehow this is different." She leaned with her back against the sink.
Napoleon got straight to the point. "What happened to you out there on the way here?"
April shrugged. "Probably nothing."
"Probably something," Napoleon quickly countered. "You said no one is there when clearly that wasn't the case. You saw it too, didn't you."
She watched him for a moment. Finally, she spoke. "That's just it. I have no idea what I meant. I just felt I had to say it."
"But did you see anything?"
She shook her head. "No. But I knew you did."
Napoleon decided to let it go.
"I feel trapped," she said. "Like we won't be able to leave."
"So do I."
"Maybe it's the way the place looks," April said. "Dracula's castle right out of my childhood nightmares. It looks like a fortress with a moat going around it too. This bedroom is on the second level. Quite a drop if we have to make a quick escape."
"A big drop," Napoleon agreed. "no one could survive a drop like that, but it's not like we don't have backup. We got a whole team out there."
She nodded, "But we are also expendable."
"But not with what we came here for. They're not going to leave us hanging."
April closed her eyes. "To be clear, I don't believe vampires are going to start swooping down on us, but I think something extraordinary is about to happen."
"Like?"
April shrugged. "I don't know. That's what's distressing about it. Something extraordinary is about to happen, but I can't see it. She paused. "It's like being in a nightmare with something that terrifies you but at the same time you can't see it."
"Well, it's not every day we check into Dracula's castle." Napoleon put levity in his voice.
She shrugged. "That's true. I'm sure that's it. I'm letting my imagination run away with me. I'm sensing something, but I can't interpret it. I hate when I get these feelings."
Napoleon wasn't too fond of them either. Meant things were going to go bad. It also meant he was the focal point. April's psychic impressions were centered on those who were close to her. They were very close, best friends. He was a distraction, and distractions could be deadly.
April looked pensive. "I wish we knew more. Maybe then we could prepare. I suspect he invented something that affects weather and sound. It was crazy how neither of us could hear anything for a while."
The thought chilled him. "Wouldn't be the first time we encountered a machine capable of interfering with the climate."
April nodded. "I tried not to say much tonight, but we're stuck here. I may have already blown it."
"He may not have noticed if you did. He seemed enraptured with your knee."
"Among other parts of my anatomy." She smiled. "He rubbed my butt before he left us."
Napoleon hadn't noticed. "Be careful."
"Don't worry. I know how to handle his type."
Napoleon said nothing more on the subject because he knew that she did.
"Plans?" April asked.
"I need to find a way to search the place in case Scott changes his mind about handing it over. I don't like this delay. He could be playing games with us."
"Where do we look?" April said. "This castle is huge. We both know there are cameras all over the place."
"True. But we've got to figure out a way. I need a plan B. He's got it hidden somewhere in this castle. A place like this would have hidden passages. We just have to find them."
"We're in Dracula's castle. But which one. The movie version or the real deal?" April asked.
The outside of the castle was an exact replica of the one in Transylvania, but the inside was right out of the original 1931 film set for the Bela Lugosi movie.
Napoleon considered for a moment before answering. "Hopefully Vlad. Gives us a clue. History says that he liked keeping his victims close by. He had them right under his bedroom. So maybe, that's where Scott is keeping this thing."
"What do we do if it's too big to carry?" April asked.
"Call for reinforcement, but I think it's small. Just a feeling."
"I still don't see how we can look for it," April said. I spotted several cameras on the way to our room."
"We'll have to wait for an opportunity." Napoleon said. "I don't want to depend on everything going well."
The storm had changed everything. Otherwise, they would probably be in town somewhere celebrating the end of a successful mission. Now, Scott had plenty of time to discover that April wasn't his former paramour.
He didn't believe that story Scot spun about being alone on the island with just two servants. Someone had been standing outside the castle. Too big for Scott, too small for either Bob or his identical twin brother.
"He's playing a cat and mouse game," Napoleon said slowly. "And we're the mice."
He let the statement settle. April was massaging her neck. "He's not going to hand it over, is he?"
"He is not." Napoleon said it simply and with conviction.
Napoleon thought back to the drawing room. The fireplace was huge. It was also a perfect place to contain a hidden passageway. Still, there were a lot of possibilities. Why couldn't the man have just built a nice two-bedroom house like everyone else?
"He'll want to show the place off," Napoleon said. "He enjoys bragging about it. We wait and see if he throws a few breadcrumbs our way. Meanwhile, you come up with a headache or something. I don't want you getting too close to him. Can't have him guessing you're not Arden."
April nodded. "Agreed."
If the plan worked, Scott would turn over the invention, no questions asked. Then part two of the plan could be executed—erase his memory. They'd done it before with Mara. Doing it now would prevent Scott from ever inventing his device again. He would be free to live his life, never knowing the horror he'd planned to unleash on the world. He would just be a rich guy with a shaky memory.
Napoleon reached into his suitcoat and took out his pen communicator. It was time to check in. "Open channel D."
There was no response. He tried again. "Open channel D."
No response, just static. Napoleon looked at April.
She reached into her bra and took out her pen communicator. She had the same results.
"Remember when we couldn't hear anything?" she asked.
"It was the jamming device clicking into place," Napoleon said. He put his communicator back in his pocket. They were trapped. So much for the calvary coming to save them.
"I think we need to search the island," Napoleon said thoughtfully. "I would feel better if we had another way off the island. I don't like this waiting."
He didn't like feeling helpless.
"There could be a helicopter pad on the top level," April said hopefully."
"But there might not be a helicopter to go with it. No. We're better off looking for the boat we came on."
Hopefully their transportation was nearby.
"We wait a few hours to let this storm blow over," Napoleon said as thunder boomed faintly outside. "Then we take a romantic midnight stroll."
April nodded. "Sounds good. Now, get out of here, I really do need a shower."
Napoleon ducked his head into the shower and let the water run over his hair. Then he gestured for April to turn around and stripped off his clothes. If there were still cameras in the bedroom, their time in the shower would look like a romantic interlude.
MFU*
They had waited until the storm passed before starting their search of the grounds. They found the identical twins patrolling outside and made a show of being an amorous couple seeking privacy. They'd been left alone and managed to find the boat. Further inspection revealed a helicopter pad, but it was empty. They'd also located the collapsed bridge which meant Bob hadn't been lying when he said it had been washed away.
They'd made the return to their room with heavy hearts. Now they were in bed. The draperies were open, but Napoleon felt claustrophobic. At the same time, he knew they were being watched.
Damn the man!
April rolled over to his side of the bed. "We've got to keep the romance up, dear."
Her meaning was clear. They needed to pretend. The night could have a thousand eyes.
He kissed her, pulling her closer. It felt wrong. She was one of his best friends. That she happened to be a woman surprised a lot of people including him. How to explain—they just clicked in a platonic way. He froze, mentally pulling back from something that felt wrong.
"I'm Arden Kirk," April whispered against his ear. She spoke with Arden's voice. "Treat me like her." It was a command.
She sounded like Arden, smelled like Arden. He kissed her deeply, their tongues fighting for control. He let his mind drift back to the last time they were together. He'd returned from a mission and his need for her was consuming.
He'd gone to her apartment. She'd opened the door and pulled him inside without saying a single word. She had been completely nude. He'd nearly died on that mission, but she was bringing him back to life.
They hadn't made it to the bedroom. He took her right there on the Livingroom floor. It had been the most intensely erotic moment he'd had in a long time.
Now, the passion ignited within him as he let his mind slip back to a place where Arden still lived. It was Arden in his bed, Arden screaming his name, Arden whose body clung to his in desperate need. His body hardened as he kissed her over and over, his lips traveling down the length of her body.
And then he caught himself.
What was he doing?
This was April in his bed. Not Arden. How could he have gotten so confused?
He kissed her deeply, then whispered in her ear. "Sorry."
"It's okay," she whispered, running her hands down his back. "It's part of the job. We have to make this look real."
They continued to perform for the camera, keeping their bodies covered with a thick quilt to obscure the subterfuge.
Careful, he told himself. This is April. Your best friend. She is not Arden.
Arden is dead.
He thought of baseball, trying without success to control his bodily responses. And then it was over. Napoleon looked at April asking with his eyes if they were okay, because he didn't want to lose one of the most important friendships in his life.
She nodded.
And he sighed. He was supposed to pretend. He'd done it before. He'd always been able to control himself. This wasn't the first time he had to pose as the husband or lover of a woman in which he wasn't romantically involved. Yet a moment ago, he'd let himself slip into the past and felt things at April's expense. He had used her, and he'd never been a man who used women. Nothing had happened, but his mind and body had taken him to forbidden places. There was no forgiveness for it.
She leaned over. They were face to face, the quilt still covering their bodies. "There is no need," she said simply, offering her understanding of his despair. She had accepted his apology just like that.
The moon was full as they drifted off to sleep. Then the footsteps started.
Napoleon heard it first. He quickly grabbed his gun which he'd left on the floor beneath the bed. The fire had gone out in the fireplace, but he could see with the aid of moonlight spilling through the open draperies.
He slipped on a robe and made his way to the door. April threw on a robe and waited. Outside, the clock chimed four.
You could hear a pin drop which reminded Napoleon of the strange phenomena on their way to the castle. Suddenly, he heard heavy breathing. The person was making a show of it, taking in exaggerated breaths then letting it out slowly. This was followed by more footsteps as if the person was walking away. The steps were slow and heavy. Definitely a man.
He made a hand-signal at April who was still standing by the bed. She caught his meaning. She went over to the window and looked down. Then she carefully closed the thick draperies, casting the room in darkness. A moment later she was beside him. "Has to be Robert. The other two are outside patrolling."
The footsteps returned along with the breathing. Sweat poured down his face even though it had been cold a moment ago.
The doorknob turned. It was locked of course, but seeing it turn set him on edge. It's Scott, he thought. But there was another possibility—Scott knew who they were, and it was someone from Thrush. Maybe this was a ruse to get them to the island.
But, Thrush didn't work that way. They would have attacked when they were outside. They wouldn't stand in the hallway at four in the morning, knowing armed UNCLE agents were inside. There was another possibility to consider-what if it was what he'd seen earlier. Something not quite human because there was no other explanation for the way it looked.
Napoleon quickly gave himself a mental kick. This was a flesh and blood person, one that was vulnerable to bullets. And he had plenty.
"I would suggest you find something else to do with your time," he called out. That did the trick. The doorknob stopped moving and someone walked away. He let out a breath.
April touched his arm. "It's not over."
"I know," he replied.
They each moved to opposite sides of the door and stepped back as they prepared for the next onslaught. It didn't take long. He heard the slow almost rhythmic move to their room. Then nothing, like someone was standing on the other side waiting.
He tightened his grip on the gun. April moved into a fighting stance. She didn't have a gun because Arden wouldn't, but her hands were lethal.
Five minutes later, they were still waiting. The footsteps had come and gone several times. Now they were enjoying a lull. The person had walked away.
April shook her head, telling him what he already knew—it still wasn't over.
Clunk, stop.
Clunk, stop.
It was coming back, deep breaths that seemed like it had been amplified with an electronic device. Napoleon's heart picked up speed as adrenalin coursed through his body, his mind reimagining the thing at the entrance to the castle. Was it there now? Waiting? Dark movement without form.
Time to see its face.
Time to see its face.
Napoleon pictured this entity, dark robes floating in the air, its hands on the door.
Open the door. Open the door and see its face.
He took a deep breath in and let it out slowly, desperately trying to calm his nerves.
And still it came, its breaths louder with each step. Then suddenly a rush of steps-coming at high speed, a sound so loud that he wanted to cover his ears.
It was coming straight for them.
It planned to get inside.
See its face. See its face.
Napoleon backed away, raising his gun, aiming it at the center of the door. Then just like that, it stopped, and all went silent.
"Still there," April screeched. "It's still there."
He couldn't see her. She was standing in the corner, covered by a blanket of darkness. It was as if she wasn't there at all. For a moment, he thought he was alone, but then April stepped out and broke the spell.
Napoleon had enough. It was time to put a stop to the games. There was someone on the other side of the door. That person was flesh and blood. The thing he'd seen outside had probably been a trick of the light or some sort of projection.
Napoleon marched over to the door and without hesitation, opened it.
There was no one there.
MFU*MFU*
The next day found Napoleon and April again in the drawing room. It was eleven at night and Napoleon was growing impatient with all the waiting. His adrenalin was all over the place. He could see April was in a similar state. Neither of them had been able to go back to sleep after the strange occurrence last night. They hadn't had any luck contacting Waverly, either, which added to the stress.
Earlier in the day, Napoleon had been encouraged to explore the castle and the island. He'd done so for most of the afternoon but had little to show for it. He'd found Scott's bedroom, which was located on the same floor as theirs. However, he'd been prevented from exploring the lower level, which gave credence to the idea that something was hidden there.
At any rate, Scott seemed anxious to show off whatever he had invented. Napoleon believed it was something small because Scott had mentioned bringing it to the drawing room. Now, they were waiting for him. It was dark, the moon reflecting off calm waves, making the sea look like liquid silver. Again, they'd been asked to stay the night, but he'd declined, saying he had an early morning meeting. Scott had seemed disappointed but accepted his answer and had asked that one of the twins prepare the boat.
Everything was going as planned, so why did he feel like it wasn't?
Bob or Brad came in carrying a tray of drinks. The men were carbon copies of each other with the same dead expression on their faces, so he was never sure which one he was looking at. This one walked over and sat a bottle of wine and three glasses on the table by the window which faced the sea. Napoleon shuddered when he saw the bottle. There was something disturbing about it but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind when Scott walked in.
The man was wearing a black tux and tail, his thin hair slicked back emphasizing the roundness of his cheeks.
"Oh, good. I see they brought the wine. It's my best bottle. We shall toast to our partnership."
Napoleon nervously looked at the bottle and joined him at the table. Scott had sent up a tux for him, but he refused to wear it. He wore the casual suit he'd been wearing when they arrived. He had a virtual arsenal hidden in various places on it. April had on a low-cut red dress that flared at the bottom. She was equally armed.
One of the twins came into the room, looked at the fireplace and smiled. Then he left the room, closing the door behind him. Scott placed a portable record player on the table. Napoleon didn't recall seeing him carry it in, but there it was, dark blue, the sort that teenagers carried to beach parties.
He glanced at April who was standing next to him. Scott opened the bottle of wine and poured the red liquid into all three glasses.
"Join me," Scott said, lifting his glass.
Napoleon exchanged a glance with April then both followed.
Outside, the trees swayed in the moonlight, proclaiming the smooth sail they could expect on the return to the mainland.
Scott held his glass high and looked at them. "First a toast. Then I'll show you how it works."
Napoleon wondered if he'd heard him correctly. Had the man just said he'd invented a record player nearly a century after it had already been invented?
Was this some sort of joke?
Napoleon picked up one of the glasses and handed it to April. Then he took a glass and waited.
"To my dream. A dream that I have chased all my life." Scott drank from his glass while Napoleon pretended to do so. He saw April was doing the same.
All three put their glasses on the table.
Scott smiled, looking down at the record player with a loving expression. "Nice, isn't it?"
Napoleon managed a nod, but he didn't trust himself to say more.
Scott threw his head back and laughed. "I bet you think this is a record player, don't you?" He laughed again. "That's the fun of it. Nobody would ever guess. They'll think it's a record player. It plays records too. Yes. Plays records like a record player." He spoke quickly, practically gasping between words, but the smile remained. "Looks like the kind the kids take to parties. Yes. Yes. Didn't have those when I was young. Didn't have them." Scott was laughing hysterically. Then his face sobered and he stared at them with a raised brow before placing his hand on the case.
Napoleon thought of Pandora's box as Scott opened it, but inside was a regular turnstile. Illya had one just like it. They'd come all this way to see something that Napoleon could have seen in his partner's apartment.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Scott said, followed by a deep belly laugh. The man was insane.
Napoleon wondered why all megalomaniacs laughed manically.
"A toast is in order." Scott said.
Hadn't they already toasted to the partnership? But what did he care. He just wanted to get the thing and get out. He'll deal with it later if it turned out to be a normal record player.
Napoleon picked up his glass. April picked up hers and stepped closer to him, their backs facing the door, but turned just enough to observe anyone who may suddenly appear. Scott stood with his back to the window, the devil's grin on his face. Outside, Napoleon noticed both twins making their way around the castle.
Maybe the device was real, something disguised to look like an ordinary record player. Afterall, he was carrying a communicator that looked like a pen. April had a bomb that looked like lipstick. Why not a record player disguised as something else?
He brought up his guard.
"My greatest achievement," Scott said holding his glass high as he looked between the two agents. "I've given my life to develop it. It has taken a lifetime, but now, here it is." His eyes went suddenly wild. "And now for the piece de resistance," Scott said with a flourish, throwing his hands out theatrically. Then he touched the top of the record player lovingly as the hairs on the back of Napoleon's neck stood on end.
This was it. This was the moment they had been waiting for.
"To our partnership," Scott said, again lifting his glass. "That will change the balance of power. That will make me the most powerful man in the world. And to my worthy guest who have come here to aide me in the final stages of my master plan. To Mr. Napoleon Solo and April Dancer." And before Napoleon could move a muscle, Scott touched a switch on the outside of the record player and vanished.
MFU*MFU*
April and Napoleon moved quickly, drawing their guns, looking in all directions.
Scott was nowhere in sight. The man had simply vanished. No smoke. No mirrors. Just gone and he'd done it right in front of them.
Napoleon stared at the place Scott had stood only moments ago. The record player was still sitting on the table. At least they had that. He didn't know how it worked, but that could be determined later. First, he needed to find Scott and administer the enhanced capsule B to erase his memory. It wouldn't do any good to take the device and leave him to create another one.
"He's got to be here," April said. She was standing by the fireplace. She looked as stunned as he felt.
Napoleon went over to the record player and examined it. He didn't see anything unusual. He even took a chance and flipped a few of the switches. He was still there and fully visible.
He looked outside. Bob and Brad were still making their way around the castle. He checked the windows. None of them would open. Even if they had, where would Scott go? No one could survive a fall like that.
Scott had to be somewhere in the room. He was probably watching them and having the laugh of his life.
"Shit," April said in Arden's voice.
"He knows who we are. No need to pretend anymore," Napoleon said in response to her uncharacteristic use of profanity.
April reached beneath her dress and retrieved a device used to check for body heat. If Scott was in the room, this was the way to find him.
She moved quickly, scanning in all areas, the pen-like device held in front of her. A few minutes later she was shaking her head.
"Nothing," she said, he's not here."
"He's got to be here. That little disappearing act of his took seconds and I'm not buying that gadget of his made him invisible."
"Well, we've checked everywhere." She pointed at the fireplace. "Except there."
The fire was roaring, the flames high. Scott would have caught fire if he had gone out that way.
"I don't know how he did it. But he's here somewhere. Time to make him reappear."
Both of them had their guns out.
"Okay, Scott show yourself or we'll start shooting." Napoleon circled the room. He didn't need to see him for bullets to find the man. Waverly wanted his memory erased, but they had the machine, which he was sure was worthless. At any rate, A dead Scott posed no danger. Waverly would understand. Eventually.
"You've got one minute," Napoleon said, his voice tight. "I may not be able to find you, but bullets won't have that problem."
April came to join him, her back pressed to his back, clearly understanding what he meant to do.
A minute passed. Scott didn't appear.
"Fire," Napoleon shouted. At once they sent bullets flying in all directions, turning as they went. At the end, the smell of gun powder filled the air and spent bullets lay on the floor.
April and Napoleon stood staring at each other. Then both took off to separate parts of the room and commenced looking for blood.
"No blood," April called out after a few minutes.
"Same here," Napoleon responded. Definitely not invisible. That left the man transporting himself out of the room, using the power of something that looked like a record player. Napoleon wasn't betting on that. But how else to explain it? A device that could teleport a person would change the balance of power. Maybe the record player wasn't so innocuous.
Maybe Scott wasn't crazy.
Napoleon went over to the window and looked out. Bullets had flown everywhere, but somehow the windows were still intact. Bob and Brad were still out on patrol, barely discernable in the darkness, but there. They acted as if they hadn't heard anything, but the room wasn't soundproof. He'd heard birds earlier and thunder the day they arrived.
"We're not leaving this room until you come out," Napoleon said, meaning it, and knowing the man wasn't there at the same time.
He walked over to the fireplace. The fire was dying down, but it was still too high for Scott to have escaped that way.
"Oh, no," April said suddenly.
Napoleon turned around. April was standing at the little bistro table. It didn't take long for Napoleon to see what she was looking at. Or rather, not looking at.
The record player was gone. Vanished. Just like Scott.
He walked over to the table and looked at it as if he were willing it to return. Then they looked at each other. Finally, Napoleon spoke. "Help me lift the rug."
"But…'
"What else do we have? We're both standing here. No one could get in here without us seeing them. Even if I was buying the invisible man idea. I'm not buying the invisible record player being carried out of here without us noticing."
The whole thing seemed ridiculous. It also seemed ridiculous to think Scott had time to lift a rug and escape down a secret passage. Then come back later for his record player.
They both pulled the rug up. No secret door was found. Just an ordinary wooden floor.
They stomped across the floor, listening for a hollow sound that would indicate a hidden hatch. Why not? He'd fallen through a few floors in his career with UNCLE.
But they didn't find that either. That left him with the invisible man or the man who teleported out of the room.
"He didn't run out of here," April said. "He just…just vanished. Like something in a magic show. He even got dressed for the occasion. You see that outfit he had on? I was expecting him to pull a rabbit out of his sleeve any moment. I thought he was crazy. Crazy and harmless, but here we are."
"A sleep gas," Napoleon said, snapping his fingers. "He used a sleep gas on us."
"And we don't remember it?" April countered.
"Okay, it's a longshot, but it's more plausible than teleportation."
"True. So, he uses a sleep gas that put us out long enough for him to leave the room. Then somehow, he came back and administered more sleeping gas while we were looking for him?" April asked with a raised eyebrow.
Napoleon had to admit it didn't sound plausible. "We'll ask him when we find him," he murmured.
Time was of the essence. They were it searching a room for a man who obviously wasn't there. Meanwhile, Scott was probably on his way to the boat. "Let's get out of here and continue the search," he said. "Maybe he's in his room or the lab."
"Probably laughing manically," April added as they both ran to the door.
The clock outside the room started its countdown to midnight. Napoleon could hear it chiming, reminding him of the hour they'd wasted. It was irritating.
"Come on," Napoleon said when April suddenly stopped.
He turned around. She was looking at something in the window. He followed her eyes as the clock struck twelve.
He couldn't believe what he saw.
The sun was rising.
The sun was rising at midnight.
MFU*MFU*
The sun rose quickly, becoming a blazing fireball in minutes. Napoleon shielded his eyes. "What?"
"It's not possible," April said. "It's midnight. There should be a full moon out there."
Napoleon looked at his wrist and remembered he'd left his watch back in the room. It didn't matter. He knew it should be dark.
Napoleon walked to the window and stared out. He didn't see anyone. Not only that, but there were no signs of life. Not one bird in the sky. No insects either. Just trees waving in the breeze over clear, blue water.
It would have been a beautiful view if it wasn't so damned creepy.
"He called us by our real names," April said. "Did I make a mistake that led him to discover the truth?"
"I think he knew all along. I think he lured us here for a reason."
"What reason?" April asked. "Why all this. He could have grabbed us anywhere?"
"Maybe he gets his kicks coming up with elaborate kidnappings," Napoleon said. "I don't know." He turned to look at April. "Let's get out of here."
But April stayed riveted to the spot, staring outside.
He grabbed her hand. "There's no time for that. Scott is not here. We've got to look for him. Now!" He made his voice harsh.
She blinked. "Is this how we die?"
"No. I won't allow it. Now move it." He hated being so abrupt with her, but he had to shake her out of it. They needed to look for Scott, although he suspected that he was already gone.
They ran to the door, Napoleon reaching it first. He turned the knob. The door was locked.
"Not opening," he said, aiming his gun at the lock and stepping back. Then he fired once, twice, three times. The door remained intact. Not a single bullet had pierced the wooden frame of the double door.
They looked at each other. "That's not possible," Napoleon said. "The bullets should have sheared that door." He walked over to it. Not a bullet hole in sight. Not even a little damage to the frame. It was as if he'd never shot at it. The spent bullet casings were on the floor.
They both touched the door at the same time. It was ordinary wood. Not steal.
Napoleon stood back and gave it a hard kick. Nothing happened. "Sounds like wood," he said as he reached into his pocket and took out a small object.
"That's only good on metal," April said, eyeing the device.
"Well, if it works on metal, it certainly will work on whatever this is."
Napoleon started at the top, using the small oxygen torch he'd used a few months ago. Back then, it had cut a perfect hole in the door. He still remembered the astonished look on his companion's face when she saw it in action. Now, however, the device was hardly remarkable. He may just as well have been using chalk. The door remained intact.
"I've used that before to cut my way into a vault," April said.
"Some sort of special material that's stronger than metal." he said.
"That looks and feels like wood?" she said, incredulously. "A material that neither of us have ever heard of?"
"Well, we're here to see what Scott invented. It certainly wasn't a record player. Had to be this door. He locked us in here as a sort of show-and-tell."
Even as he said it, Napoleon knew it wasn't true. It was his desperation talking. They were trapped, just as he had feared. It was also getting hotter by the second. The blazing fire in the fireplace didn't help.
"Hand me the lipstick," he said, meaning the explosive device she carried.
She lifted her dress and strapped to her leg was a garter belt with a small bag attached to it. She opened it and took out what looked like a tube of lipstick. It was small, but when lit, it could blow through a bank vault. Scott was in for the surprise of his life if he thought they were so easily trapped.
He took the lipstick from her and used a match to light it. One toss and they both ran and leaped behind the sofa, waiting for the blast. The sound was deafening, and the room literally shook. Then the air filled with the scent of sulfur. They were both coughing when they came up to look.
The door was undamaged. He got up and made his way to it. When he turned the knob, he was not surprised to find it locked.
"Are Bob and Brad still out there?" he asked as he ran his hand across the door.
He heard her walking towards the window. "No. I don't see them. Maybe they're on their way up here."
"Or they've joined Scott on his boat and are miles from here."
"That was enough explosives to take down a ten-ton steel door," Napoleon said.
"Maybe we can try the window again. We've plenty of bullets," April said hopefully. "Then once we get it open, we can figure out how to escape."
"Without killing ourselves," Napoleon said. "I'll try the oxygen torch first."
He went over and quickly traced the torch over the glass. It didn't show the slightest scratch. And yet it was effective against steel, which meant the glass should have shattered.
Napoleon joined April and drew his gun, aiming at the window. "Now," he said, sending out a volley of bullets.
The glass didn't shatter, but he wasn't giving up yet.
"Special bullets," Napoleon ordered, meaning the ones they carried that were capable of penetrating the toughest bullet proof glass.
They loaded their guns, then aimed and fired, covering the entire length of the window from top to bottom.
Not one bullet penetrated the glass. And the sun was brighter, staring at them as if it were a silent witness to their plight.
They turned and stared at each other.
"What is this?" April said clearly frightened because no door could withstand a bomb, and no window could withstand bullets, and Scott couldn't just disappear, and the sun could not shine at midnight.
"We'll get out of here, April. We just have to open the window."
"Then what. We string together the non-existent draperies and climb down. The best we could hope for is a cool breeze." She wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Napoleon looked at the fireplace. The fire was still blazing. According to his estimate it should have gone out an hour ago.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small metal object that looked like a cigarette lighter. It was really a miniature fire extinguisher. He went over to the fireplace and pressed the button. An invisible gas was released that would extinguish the fire immediately. It didn't work. The fire continued unabated.
"It should have worked," he said clearly stunned. It was a recent invention, but it had been tested by UNCLE scientist. He'd used it once, so, why wasn't it working now?
"I don't like it," April said, coming to stand next to him.
"Maybe it's defective," he said.
But they both knew that wasn't true. The device was made to put out smile fires. He'd seen it in action. So had April.
"We'll wait until the fire goes out on its own," Napoleon said. "It shouldn't take more than a few hours. There's probably a hidden door in there. Then we'll get out of here and find Scott."
Hopefully, he was already in custody.
Napoleon turned back to the window. The sun beamed through, bathing them both in sweat. It felt like the room had already reached a hundred degrees.
They had no food, no water and there was no way out.
MFU*MFU*
Four days later they were still trapped and the sun felt like it was drilling a hole through his body. He found a thermometer on the table that magically appeared the way the record player had disappeared. The temperature had reached 110 degrees and was climbing. The fire was still blazing in the fireplace even though firewood hadn't been added. It was replenishing itself somehow, keeping the flames at a constant level, covering the entire front of the fireplace.
He had attempted to put the flames out at least twenty times.
He opened his communicator. "Open channel D." This was met by static. He put his communicator away. Someone should have come to rescue them by now. It wasn't as if they didn't know where to find them.
Now, they were sitting on the floor, their backs propped against the sofa. He'd moved the sofa to the other side of the room, away from the heat of the fireplace, but there was no escaping the sun.
April had her head on his shoulder. She was either asleep or passed out. She'd done that a few times, which frightened him. April was an agent, equal to any man in the field. But she still had a woman's body. There were certain biological differences that could not be circumvented by the equal rights of women. She was more likely to suffer an adverse reaction to the heat.
He had to get them out. He'd been trying for four days. It was as if he'd entered some sort of fourth dimension, a place where the sun never went down, never changed positions. A place where a fireplace refilled itself with logs and never went out. Napoleon would admit to himself that he was possibly delirious. He could no longer trust his thought processes. He could only trust that he would get them out.
He couldn't give up, not with April's life in the balance.
He made to get up and April opened her eyes. "Let's try the bomb again," he said.
"Why? It won't work. You've tried so many times I lost count. There's no point, Napoleon."
"Miss Dancer," Napoleon shouted, using a commanding tone in his voice. "Come to your feet. Now!"
As CEA, he rarely pulled rank with Illya or April. But he had no choice. She was giving up.
"Get to your feet, Miss Dancer. It's an order."
It achieved the desired effect. April stood up, almost coming to attention. "Sorry."
He didn't say anything. Just headed to the window and put the bombing device there. He lit the fuse and both of them ran to the sofa, throwing themselves behind it as they covered their ears.
The blast was loud. They could hear the windows rattling, smell the smoke. Then they stood up and looked at the undamaged wall of glass.
April dropped to the floor and just sat there. Napoleon went over to the fireplace and looked at it. He tried putting the fire out without success.
If he were a superstitious man, maybe he would believe they were dead. But this was Scott's invention—a way to trap individuals in a room. But that didn't explain the fireplace, the sun, not even the thermometer that had suddenly appeared on the table.
He joined April on the floor.