Again the file is too large so this is broken up into Part 6 and Part 7

Napoleon slowly became aware of his surroundings. He was tied up; seated in an ornate, high-backed carved wooden chair. Turning his head slowly from side to side, he saw he was in a large banquet hall; the walls covered with tapestries depicting Medieval scenes, along with countless hunting trophies of glass-eyed boar and deer heads.

There was nothing cheerful or warming about the room, as he noted two rather ferocious-looking gargoyle statues standing guard on either side of a large mantle that dominated the far wall; though there was a sizeable fire burning in the hearth, it did little to ward off the damp chill in the air.

Paintings dotted the other walls, some of which Solo recognized as works by several of the great masters and the last item of note was a grand piano nestled in one corner of the room, with the requisite silver candelabra gracing it’s shiny black top...all clues as to whose place this was.

Ghairovald Mephisto-Labé did have a flair for the dramatic, that was a given.

Napoleon could see though an oversized window, the only source of natural light, and the view through it was spectacular. A wild blue ocean, with waves breaking over a rocky shoreline at the bottom of a cliff, seagulls and what looked like Atlantic puffins glided through the air, some looking as if they were suspended in time as they hung in the sky, riding the air currents.

“Welcome Mr. Solo.” It was Labé of course, no surprise there.

“That depends on where we are.”

“Oh excuse me, welcome to my humble abode. A little castle by the sea in Donegal Ireland. It’s quite remote, so no one disturbs me. Mephisto-Labé stepped into view, wearing a green paisley smoking jacket, with a crystal goblet of dark wine in his hand.

Napoleon cut right to the chase. “Where’s Illya?”

Labé laughed, taking a sip of wine before speaking.

“Ah déjà vu, Mr. Solo, déjà vu. That’s a question you’ve asked me before, isn’t it?”

“Cut the crap. Where is he?”

“Oh don’t fret, he’s being well taken care of. He’s on his oxygen and medications for now under the care of my private nurse.”

“You don’t need to do this you know. If you let us go, I can just forget where you are and you can continue to live on in your private little world.”

Again Labé laughed, placing his wine glass on the heavy dining table.

“Do you think you can bargain with me? Very few know of this place, much less the fact that I own it. The local populace are an ignorant superstitious lot, thinking it haunted and avoid it like the proverbial plague. No Mr. Solo, you’re here to stay for as long as I let you live. Your partner however is another story. Given the fact he’s so ill and in a weakened state, there’s no guaranteeing he will survive the damp conditions here.”

“Come on Labé, what happened to you was justifiable. You stole artwork that belonged to the world, and deserved to pay for your crimes. Illya and I were only doing our jobs to bring you to justice and return the art to the rightful owners. There was nothing personal against you.”

“Nothing personal? I hardly think that. You and your Russian friend were determined to destroy my way of life and take my treasures from me. My precious, beautiful objets d’art. I loved them, cherished them...appreciated their beauty like no one else. They were were mine and I deserved to have them!”

Labé rambled on, not even looking at Solo, as if he were speaking to some unseen presence.

“You truly are mad and U.N.C.L.E. is going to stop you. Even if my partner and I don’t live to see it happen, I guarantee it will. You’ll be caught in the end and punished for your thievery and murderous ways.”

Labé backhanded the American across the face, slicing into Napoleon’s cheekbone with his ring.

“Don’t threaten me, you pompous little man. I am the great Ghairovald Mephisto-Labé and no one can best me, not even your high and mighty U.N.C.L.E.”

There was no reasoning with the man, Napoleon knew that now.

“May I see my partner?” He deflected; changing the subject.

“Why of course, forgive me.” Labé’s tone of voice softened as if a switch had been flicked. “Yes, visit with your Russian friend and then you must join me for dinner. As a reminder, you can’t escape of course, so don’t even try. You see the entire castle is controlled electronically, with this.”

Labé held up a small remote, waving it in the air. “I have a state of the art security system, controlling the doors and windows...well window. You see this is the only window in the entire castle, all the others as well as every exit except the main one have been bricked up and sealed.

Napoleon’s bonds were loosened, and he rubbed his wrists once freed of the coarse rope.

“You will notice there is a cuff attached to your right ankle Mr. Solo. It is a security device that will prevent you from attacking me, if you do, you will feel a rather substantial jolt of electricity.”

Napoleon guessing he was close enough to try to lunge for the man disregarded the warning, and dove towards him from the chair.

He crumpled to the floor in an instant, as the electric shock coursed throughout his body.

“See I told you,” Labé chuckled.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Solo grunted as he slowly pulled himself up to his feet. His entire body was trembling.

“Now if you will follow me, I will take you to your partner.”

Napoleon followed him through a large arched doorway to a long hall. It was richly appointed with Persian rugs, potted ferns that were withering due to lack of sunlight and of course the walls were lined with numerous paintings. They followed the hall to a multilevel staircase, and finally to an upper balcony to another hallway.

They walked to the right, passing several doors until Labé halted, pointing to a door with a long bony finger.

“Mr. Kuryakin is inside. Though he may not be awake. The journey was a bit...shall we say, taxing on him. Your room is directly across the hall.”

Napoleon slowly opened the door, hesitant to look inside.

“I will expect you for dinner at five o’clock. Please be prompt Mr. Solo. You’ll find a tuxedo laid out for you.” Labé turned and simply left him.

The American finally walked inside, seeing Illya lying amidst a tangle of blankets on a large canopied bed. There was an oxygen tank and a single IV, but nothing else.

The Russian was a white as snow as Solo stepped up beside him, getting a better view. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes darkened and hollow; Illya’s face was framed by a tangle blond hair.

“Wake up buddy. It’s me,” Napoleon whispered, wanting badly to touch the Russian but he knew better. Even in a weakened state Kuryakin would lash out, acting instinctively.

He jostled the bed, and finally his partner opened his eyes.

“Napoleon?” Illya’s voice was muffled beneath the oxygen mask.

“Yeah it’s me. How you feeling?”

“Awful. It hurts to breathe and I am as weak as a newborn kitten. What happened? The last thing I remember was riding in the ambulance with you... “ Illya spoke haltingly, his breathing obviously congested.”Your face, it is bleeding.”

Napoleon surmised his partner hadn’t had a breathing treatment in quite some time. “A little gift from our host...don’t tax yourself by talking chum.”

Illya nodded, inhaling the oxygen through the mask.

“It’s Labé...he’s got us again. Put some sort of sleeping potion in the food you all ate. Since I didn’t have anything, he used knockout gas on me.”

“Are the others here?”

“Nope, just you and me ...like always.”

“Where is here?” Illya glanced around his room, seeing it was filled with antique furniture and tapestries on the grey stone walls. “Wait, do not tell me, we are in a castle.”

“How’d you guess that?”

“The masonry and generally castles make use of tapestries to keep the chill at bay. The heavy curtains on this bed as well as the bedding indicates we are somewhere damp and possibly cold.”

“Wow all that, from stonework, tapestries and bedding? You’ve pretty much hit the nail on the head; we’re in a castle somewhere along the shore of County Donegal in Ireland.”

“Ireland? Illya coughed for a moment, clearing some of his congestion.”Labé has gone to some trouble to deal with us. Why did he not just kill us outright?”

“Dunno. Maybe he’s like a cat, toying with it’s food. He said he’s not going to do away with us just yet, so who knows what he has up his sleeve.”

“Why do you just not escape?” Illya finally removed the mask, hiking himself up in the bed, taking great effort to do so.

“He’s got the place remotely wired. All the doors and window are controlled electronically, and he has the control device. And besides I’m not going anywhere without you chum.”

“You must not worry about me, I will only impede your escape from this place. Napoleon this is a castle, surely there are some sort of secret passageways that cannot be wired. Look for those,” Illya started coughing, and Solo replaced the oxygen mask for him.

“We’ll talk about this later chum. You need to rest. I have a dinner date with our host and can’t be late so I’ll fill you in afterwards.” Solo looked at his wristwatch.

“Search any bookcases and the outer walls…” Illya gasped, removing the mask again.

“I will, scouts honor tovarisch. ”

continued in Part 7