Napoleon was awake with his eyes closed. The surface he was lying on felt soft and cushioned. His hands and feet were not bound. The air around him was comfortably warm and the room was quiet. Slowly, and without moving anything else, he opened his eyes. The light was bright, but not blinding. He turned his head slightly and flexed his arms. He looked around the small room noting the sparse furniture, two small cots and a dresser embedded in the wall. With some trepidation, he sat up on the side of the cot he was lying on and tried to remember going to sleep in this room. He could not.
    He tried to remember being drugged or knocked unconscious. He could not. He tried to remember what case he had been working on. He could not. He remembered closing The Monster Wheel Affair, but could think of nothing else. He rose to his feet and walked to the door to try the handle. It was locked.
    The cot next to his was empty. That was a good sign. Perhaps, Illya was not with him, in which case he knew he would be rescued soon. On the other hand, he had no idea what was going on, and without Illya, he would have to figure this out on his own. Without warning, he heard a sharp knock on the door.
    "Hello? Mr. Solo?" came a muffled voice. The handle rattled and began to turn. Solo stood back, prepared to move quickly, whatever course he needed to take.
    "Mr. Solo?" The face that peered cautiously around the door was pale and wide-eyed. The hair was dark, greasy and slicked back. There was no beard, mustache or stubble covering the long cheek bones or upper lip. The voice was timid and uncertain. Solo was puzzled by the man�s disarming entrance, but did not respond.
    "Um..." The man pushed the door open, saw Solo standing next to his cot and spoke. "I�m sorry to rush you, Mr. Solo, but the others are growing impatient."
    Playing along, Solo responded, "Well, then by all means, let�s not keep them waiting any longer." Gesturing towards the door, he smiled. Smiling back and fidgeting, the man turned and walked out.
    Napoleon shrugged and followed him. He was led around a long, curved hallway, down a short flight of stairs and through a set of large double doors.
    The doors opened and released a loud chorus of voices. Most sounded impatient and anxious, and none waited for quiet before speaking. Napoleon scanned the room as he walked in. Most of the faces were instantly recognizable to him.
    Matthew Sparks, owner of Sparks Plastics, Sparks Appliances, SPK TV, and the Minnesota Sparks, a well financed if not overly successful Professional Football team.
    Adeem Kramaq, leader of the ASI, a radical group of Arabian terrorists, the existence of which has yet to be proven.
    Gunter Heimle, physicist, chemist, doctor, engineer.
    The President of the United States.
    England�s Prime Minister.
    Political leaders from Japan, China and Saudi Arabia.
    Terrorist leaders, well known and well hidden
    Bruno Van Buren.
    Napoleon froze for a second when he saw Bruno. His eyes narrowed as he vaguely remembered a recent conversation. He saw the same glint of recognition in Bruno�s eyes. He turned to his skinny guide, but was interrupted by a booming voice.
    The voice came from an intercom over their heads, and the room darkened slowly as it spoke.
    Welcome, gentlemen and ladies. I know you are all anxious to begin the bidding, but, for the benefit of our late arrivals, please, be patient as we review the merchandise.
    Quietly, the back wall slid away to reveal a large display of televisions. Working together the screens displayed a large picture of a small, tropical island. Towering out of the center of the Island was a massive, smoking Volcano.
    As the camera angle zoomed in and around the island, the voice continued. My name is Dr. Zane Druthers, many of you may have heard that name before and dismissed it without thought. I assure you that today you will regret that action. This is the Island of Varsaiy. It is not on any but the most detailed oceanic charts, and exists merely at the whim of the dormant Volcano that has created it.
    Peaceful and silent it has rested untouched by human hands for thousands of years. Until now! hidden from the prying eyes of government satellites all over the world, is the largest most powerful laboratory in existence. For centuries, volcanoes have housed the worlds greatest source of energy. Until now this energy has been beyond your reach, no matter how high and wide that reach may be.
    The scene on the screen was changing. It showed several men, dressed in green overalls, working around a huge, black vehicle. The front of the vehicle came to a sharp, spiraling point, a huge door hung open in the back and the workmen looked dwarfed as they walked in and out. Large tracks towered over the men on each side of the vehicle. The sound of the engine was loud and grinding when it roared to life, spinning the sharp, drill on it�s nose.
    This is the V-kar! The voice was haughty and proud. Without this vehicle and the strong, heat resistant metal it is made of, none of our achievements would have been possible. It was in this massive vehicle that we carried all the equipment and hardware necessary to build the facility you are now housed in. And it was in this vehicle that we descended into the natural powerhouse that is Mt. Varsaiy!
    The picture changed to a large room filled with computers, mechanical devices and laboratory equipment. From the corner, a short balding man, dressed in dark pants and a pale green lab coat, walked into the center of the room and spread his arms out to his sides. The voice continued, but now Solo could see the man in the movie was the narrator, Dr. Zane Druthers.
    Around me you can see that we have accomplished what each of you said was an impossible fantasy. You have all been specially chosen from among those too pompous and arrogant to back, with funding and manpower, the ravings of this "mad man".
    Dr. Druthers shifted his thick glasses, and passed through several doors, walking quickly in front of the camera. Finally, he entered a high ceilinged room that glowed with a strange brightness. The Doctor stopped in the middle of the room staring ahead of himself into the source of the light. As the camera turned and with a great show, he gestured toward a tremendous, glowing machine that was housed behind a transparent wall of shaded glass.
    Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, V.E.T.I., Volcanic Energy Transference Instrument, and the answer to the worlds energy crisis!
    The murmuring in the room grew louder and Solo shifted on his feet. Around him he heard the conversation. Most were scared, most disbelieving, some were more concerned with who Dr. Druthers was and who he was working for. Solo looked around the room in the dim light and tried to find Bruno Van Buren. In Solo�s estimation, Bruno was the most dangerous man in the room. If any of Druthers� claims were true, none of it could fall into the hands of Thrush.
    Bruno stood at the front of the room enthralled by the visions before him. Solo thought he could almost see the drool hanging from his mouth. On the screen, Dr. Druthers� power transformer had been replaced by a small, empty, cubical room. On the floor was a round disc, its twin hung from the ceiling directly above. Behind a second transparent wall stood a thin graying women, with her back to the camera. She was working on one of three computer panels. When she turned, the words she spoke to her green coveralled assistant were muted. Dr. Druthers' excited narration continued.
    Now, my guests, the grand finale of our accomplishments! Before your eyes is the single most impossible machine your idiocy could ever condemn!
    As they watched, a bright twinkling filled the area between the two discs. Slowly a form began to materialize out of nothing. The room burst with startled cries of disbelief as the form slowly took on the recognizable shape of a human being.
    With a shock that was almost painful, pieces of Solo�s memory returned to him. He remembered sitting in Waverly�s office discussing the mysterious vanishings of over a hundred citizens, and he remembered listening to an elderly lady tell him and Illya that a man she had known for years slowly faded away into nothing before her very eyes.
    When the visions faded, Solo thought a moment, something about his memory of Illya had bothered him. He concentrated on his friend, wondered where he was and what he was up to, but could remember nothing else.
    The movie continued, showing several of Dr. Druthers� "guests" appearing in the small room. The narration was almost drowned out by the frightened amazement of those standing around Napoleon.
    This incredible device, the secretes of which are known only to me, is only the beginning of what we plan to accomplish here inside Mt. Varsaiy. I have brought you all here to see the power that you will never wield and offer you the opportunity to fund our next endeavor. Use of the Molecular Remapper that brought you here is for sale!
    The room slowly grew greedy and quiet.
    I will listen to your bids shortly, but understand that the secretes that run it and the V.E.T.I. are mine and mine alone. You will all be forever paying me for their use!
    Druthers chuckling laughter could be heard even as the picture faded away and the lights came back up. A door opened to the left of the screen and Druthers entered surrounded by three big and heavily armed guards.
    The people stood in shocked silence for several seconds. Then, erupted into a raucous clamor for Druthers� attention. Bruno Van Buren was at the front of the crowd and his voice could be heard above all of the others. After narrowly avoiding being knocked to the ground several times, Solo decided he had heard and seen enough. Carefully keeping an eye on Druthers, his guards and Bruno, Solo backed toward the door and slipped out of the room. He walked up and down several empty halls before finding an elevator. Getting in he chose to ride down. Two floors later the elevator stopped and let him out. These halls were as quiet and deserted as those above had been. There were very few doors and only one with a window.
    Solo pushed up onto his toes to see in the small, square window. The room was full of machinery, and computers. There were several tables scattered with papers. He recognized the room from the video. It was here that Dr. Druthers had begun his tour of the facility and his amazing inventions.
    Solo tried the handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. He slowly walked around the room. Very little of the equipment was familiar to him, and he wished Illya, and his scientific background were at hand. Thinking of Illya brought him a twinge of concern that he could not place a reason for. He paused in the middle of the room trying to remember the last time he had been with Illya.
    "You are not supposed to be in this room." A stern, irritated voice interrupted his thoughts. He spun to see that a women had entered the room through a back door. She was slim and tall, her hair was dark with silver streaks revealing her age. Her glasses had thin metal frames that almost disappeared when she looked at him. Her face was lined with apprehension and she looked more tired than angry.
    He smiled when he saw her, and answered in a kind, innocent voice. "I�m sorry, Miss..."
    "Brandon, Gilda Brandon." She said with a sigh. She put her hand in her pocket and drew out a small, square device. Holding it up in front of her she walked towards one of the tables.
    "...Miss Brandon." Napoleon continued. I was just having a look around, you know, see the merchandise first hand." He walked towards her table and looked over her shoulder.
    She pulled away, not letting him see the device. "Well, you�ll have to leave. I�m very busy."
    Napoleon ignored her words and watched her walk across the room to make some adjustments on a computer. She kept looking back over her shoulder at him. She seemed nervous and uncertain, anxious about his presence. He tried another idea.
    "Dr. Druthers sure has outdone himself here hasn�t he?"
    Gilda Brandon snorted. Then looked up and laughed in an effort to hide her reaction. "Yes, this is quite an accomplishment." She looked at Solo. "Look, sir, you�ll have to leave. You�ll miss the bidding."
    "Napoleon, please, call me Napoleon." He ignored her request again. Walking over to her again he said, "You don�t seem to impressed with Dr. Druthers. Is he not a kind employer or is it just the locale that has you disheartened?"
    She became indignant. "Dr. Druthers is an amazing man. Why, there was a time when I would have done anything for him!" She stopped horrified at her outburst.
    "But not now?" asked Napoleon with his eyebrows raised in anticipation. "Tell me, Gilda, what exactly did Dr. Druthers invent."
    Gilda spun away from him. She grasped the small device in front of her chest and closed her eyes.
    Solo pressed, "The power source? The vanishing machine itself?" He saw her shoulder tense with each question. "Or was it simply the idea to use it all as a weapon and sell it to the highest bidder."
    Solo watched her back, when she turned to look at him, he could tell in her eyes that his intuition and insight about people had been right again. He also saw the device in her hands, it was a remote control.
    Miss Brandon stared at him. "How did you know?" she asked incredulous. "Who are you?"
    "My name is Napoleon Solo," he narrowed his eyes and pointed, "and what are you planning to do with that remote control?"
    She gasped and looked at the device as though she had forgotten that she held it. "I... I don�t really know." She answered, dropping her shoulders with a sigh.
    "Could I, perhaps, make a suggestion?"
    She stepped back, narrowing her eyes with distrust.
    "Trust me, Miss Brandon," He said with his best smile. Then, guiding her with his hand on her back, he led her to a chair. "Why don�t you sit here and tell me all about it."
    "Well I... I don�t really think..." She sat down, laying the remote on her lap and wringing her hands.
    "Start simple," said Napoleon, "how did you get into this Volcano? And how come we can stay here without melting into nothing."
    "That�s simple?" She questioned with a wry curl in the corner of her mouth.
    Solo smiled back at her, "Compared to transporting objects and people from one side of the world to the other, almost instantly? Yes, getting inside a volcano seems simple."
    Gilda Brandon took a deep breath, thought for a moment and began. "I met Dr. Druthers in Hawaii. He was studying the volcanoes, but having trouble getting funding for his invention. He had developed a heat resistant metal that he believed he could use to build a vehicle that could travel into the center of a volcano." She paused.
    "Why a volcano?" Solo asked with an encouraging nod.
    "I guess that�s what everyone else thought as well, because no one would give him any money. But you have to understand Mr. Solo. Dr. Druthers is no fool. The dormant power smoldering under the surface of those mountains is tremendous. All of his efforts, all of his research, all of his time has been spent trying to find a way to tap that power!"
    "I guess he was successful." Solo said looking around at the room.
    "Yes, we were successful." She stressed the �we� as though Solo�s �he� was an irritant. "Dr. Druthers' metal alloy was heat resistant and with some ill appropriated funds we did create a vehicle that was able to dig it�s way into the heart of a volcano and thrive there. The amount of data we collected was tremendous."
    "We," again she said the word with meaning. "immediately began working on a way to access the volcanic power. Dr. Druthers was insistent that we work in secrete. He didn�t want any of his former nay-sayers to prosper from our work. Unfortunately, we did need money. He was forced to bring in funding and scientists with less than trustworthy motives."
    "When we finally built the V.E.T.I, and it actually worked! I thought he would go public, but he seemed even more determined to hide from the scientific community that had scoffed at his ambitions. I tried to reason with him." Gilda wrung her hands and looked at Solo in anxiety. "But he became unreasonably angry, he yelled at me, accused me of conniving against him! Me! The only one who believed! The one who did most of the work! I couldn�t believe it!" She was growing more and more distraught and angry.
    Solo interrupted, taking her hands in his. "All right, all right try to relax." His voice was soothing and calm.
    She stopped and breathed out long and slow. She looked at her lap, then up at Solo watching her. "That�s when things started to get really bad." She continued more calmly. "We had built this incredible lab, deep inside Mt. Varsaiy, and I was stuck here. The V-kar is under guard, and it takes two pilots to maneuver it. There are only two ways out of here alive, Mr. Solo, the V-kar and the Molecular Remapper."
    "Yes, the Molecular Remapper, You haven�t told me how he developed it."
    Miss Brandon looked Solo in the eyes. Her fear and frustration turned to anger. "The Remapper is mine, Mr. Solo! He didn�t trust me anymore and began searching my room and my files. I had a secrete ambition of my own and he found it! I believed in Dr. Druthers' power source and I helped him make it come true, because I needed it to power my own dreams."
    Solo watched her and listened in amazement.
    "Please, believe me, Mr. Solo, I never wanted to do the horrible things he has done. The people that he... Oh dear God, forgive me!" She closed her eyes as though trying to block a vision.
    Solo reached out to comfort her again. "The people, Miss Brandon?"
    "Yes, the people." She continued, her voice almost a whisper. "Tapping into the United States Satellite system to find people was easy, but the Remapper had to be tested. The human body is not as molecularly simple as a table, or a car, or even a tree." her voice was rising and tears filled her eyes. "It took us months to bring in a living rabbit. Every animal is different, every human is different!" Finally, she burst into tears, and dropped her head into her lap.
    Solo paused before reaching to comfort her. The full meaning of what she had just said was slow to sink in. Flashing before him was the memory of a stack of papers on Waverly�s desk, a list of hundreds of names, the faces of several people he had interviewed, anxious to find their missing friends and family. All of those people were dead. Chosen at the whim of a greedy mad-man.
    Gilda Brandon sobbed beside him. Her guilt was more than he could understand. Reaching out to her, he choked on words that held little comfort. "Please, Miss Brandon, I need your help."
    "How?" She muttered between sobs. "With what?"
    "Where is the V-kar, for one, and what are your plans for that remote?"
    She stopped crying and looked at the device in her hands. Then, quickly, as though she had made a decision she said, "I�m blowing it up, Mr. Solo! I�m finally ready to do it, will you help me?"
`    Solo sighed and smiled in approval. "Yes, I will."
    She jumped up with a squeal of excitement and started across the room.
    Solo stopped her with a hand on her arm, he had to grasp it tightly to get her attention. "The V-kar? Where is it? And the... Ah... Dignitaries. Where will they go for the night?"
    "Why?" she asked in innocence.
    Smiling Solo answered her. "As much as the world might prosper from the loss of some of those men and women, it would certainly suffer from the loss of the others. And I have no intention of 'going out in a blaze of glory' as they say."
    "Oh..." she said as though the thought had never occurred to her. "It�s two levels down, directly below us, and they stay in rooms on the same hall your room is on."
    "Good, do what you have to do, then lay low and wait for me." He started to leave, but she called him back.
    "You�re right about that "blaze of glory", Mr. Solo." She surprised him when she grinned in anticipation. "When I blow the V.E.T.I. this volcano will erupt like nothing this world has ever seen before."
    Solo raised his eyebrows at the thought, then grinned back at her. "Please," he said, "call me Napoleon." Then he turned and left the lab.

Instead of going in search of the V-kar, Napoleon headed back the way he had come. He wanted to find the other �guests� and he wanted to keep an eye on Bruno Van Buren. Seeing Bruno earlier had brought back visions of a conversation on a city street. Now as he quietly walked the halls of Dr. Druthers� hidden Volcano Lab, he remembered even more vividly.
    He remembered the high pitched whine in his ears as he walked out of a tall building with Bruno behind him. He remembered a strange tingling numbness in his fingers and throat. He remembered Bruno�s sudden uneasiness. He remembered watching Bruno reach for his lighter and being unable to stop him.
    When he remembered the rain of bullets that filled the street and the sound of the door opening behind him he felt a lump in the pit of his stomach. He stopped in the hall and closed his eyes on the visions trying to stop what he knew was coming next. He remembered the familiar jerk of Illya�s body as one of the bullets plowed into his shoulder. He remembered watching him roll instinctively out of view. Then he remembered the headache and the blurring of his eyes, and then, nothing.

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