Illya slept for twelve hours. Napoleon finally was able to have a doctor see him while he was in his deep slumber. He didn’t awakend during the examination. The Russian had a slightly elevated pulse rate, but was otherwise given a perfect bill of health by the doctor. The doctor also pointed out that Illya had just received a full examination only a few weeks ago and was in good health. The doctor suggested that the Russian was probably just tired and suggested Napoleon just let him sleep. Napoleon reluctantly returned to UNCLE HQ a few hours after the doctor left.

She came to him and lifted him from his deep slumber. He vaguely remembered her hands, and those yellow-green eyes. This time the woman found no need for the bed, the couch would do just fine.

Illya dragged himself into work three days later. He hoped Napoleon would not question him about his activities over the past three days. Honestly, his memory was largely a blur. He remembered spending time with his girlfriend. Probably too much time. They had been dating for three weeks now, since he met her in the grocery store. He realized that he didn’t know much about her, other than she resided in New York and had the oddest light green eyes he had ever seen. Strange thing was, all he could remember was the eyes. Ask him her height, he couldn’t answer. He didn’t know the color of her hair, or how she looked when she smiled. Was it because they spent most of their time in the bedroom? He had never felt this way before. They had made love ten and eleven times a day. It seemed impossible. So impossible that he felt some sort of shame. He was sleeping with a woman he hardly knew, yet he had always been the kind of man that wanted a strong commitment in a relationship. Napoleon was the one that went for casual relationships.

Napoleons sat in Waverly’s office listening to the old man tell him one of the strangest stories he had ever expected to hear in UNCLE headquarters.

“I think we have a succubus on our hands.” Waverly said.

Napoleon cleared his throat. “A succubus, sir?”

“Yes, Mr. Solo. “

“Isn’t that some kind of mystical creature that uses her sexual wiles to destroy men?”

“You are quite right. A succubus is a medieval legend. It is a demon that takes the form of a woman to seduce men. It is said that this demon drains the strength from a man, sometimes to the point of death.”

“But sir, surely that’s a myth. “

“Yes, that is until our feathered friends created one of their own. Have you noticed the male population of UNCLE recently?”

“Sir?”

Waverly harrumphed. “Of course, Mr. Solo. How could I have considered such a thing.”

Napoleon cleared his throat. “Well actually, sir. I have noticed that some of the men have looked overly tired lately. Some of them have actually had problems performing their duties.”

“Quite astute of you,” Waverly said while reaching for a pipe. “I have been informed by some of my connections that Thrush has created the ultimate weapon. I was unable ascertain how this new weapon works. It may be a drug or some other method. However, it does involve women in a sexual way. Apparently these women lure the men into sleeping with them. Afterwards, the men lose all interest in anything but the women.”

Napoleon looked steadily at Waverly as the old man continued. “It seems that a growing portion of our men have been affected—so far in New York only.”

“How many sir?” Napoleon asked.

“Approximately twenty men. All of these men hold senior positions or are top field agents. I have questioned most of the men. I believe more than one woman is involved. All of the men reported meeting green-eyed women at approximately the same time.”

“Any women?”

“So far, no.”

“Sir, if I may point out, I am in good health. So not every man holding a senior position has been affected.”

“Yes, Mr. Solo. I have considered that as well. I believe you have not been affected because it is a normal state for you.”

“Sir?” Napoleon said.

“Well, Mr. Solo. You have quite a reputation. I think Thrush thought better of using you for that reason. Perhaps you are impervious to their tactics.”

“Sir, if I may be so bold, but you don’t seem to have been affected?”

“Of course,” the old man said simply.

“Illya,” Napoleon said.

“Yes. I have asked that young man to report here as soon as possible.” Waverly checked his watch. “It seems that he is late.”

The door opened at this proclamation to admit a very tired looking Illya. Illya crossed the room and poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting heavily down in one of the chairs.”

Normally Illya was the picture of formality whenever he was in the company of Waverly. Now he slumped in the chair, sipping his coffee and scarcely looking at the old man. He didn’t seem to care that his hair was not combed and his suit wrinkled.

Waverly observed Illya for a few minutes and then puffed his pipe. “Well, young man, what have you to say?”

“You tell me, I wasn’t the one to call me at an ungodly hour, now was I?” Illya looked sharply at the old man.

Napoleon was shocked. In all his years of knowing Illya he had never seen the Russian show so much disrespect. Waverly continued to observe Illya. The old man lit is pipe and spoke sternly to the Russian agent.

“Indeed, are you aware that you may have been drugged, young man?”

Illya dropped his cup, the hot liquid flowing down the table and onto his lap. The Russian scarcely flinched as the hot liquid seeped through his pants.

“Drugged! that explains it.” Illya said.

“Explains what? What’s going on?” Napoleon asked.

Illya’s complexion reddened and he looked nervously about the room.

“Illya, if there is something going on, you must tell us. That’s an order.” Napoleon said.

Illya looked sternly at his friend as if he considered disobeying a direct order and then he proceeded to tell them of the woman.

The smell of tobacco permeated Illya’s senses reminding him that he was sitting in UNCLE headquarters discussing something so intimately personal. He closed his eyes for a second, casting his mind back to when he picked up the strange green-eyed woman in the grocery store.

“We went to my place,” he said in a monotone voice. She was on me within seconds and we went to the bedroom. We didn’t talk, there was no need. The rest of the night went by in a blur with me losing strength each time we made love.

The room was silent as the old man listened to the tale. Finally, Napoleon spoke, “What do you remember about her?”

“Just the green eyes. They were remarkable. They were a very light shade of green, almost yellow,” Illya said, coloring lightly. He looked up at the old man. “My behavior has been reprehensible. I must be removed from my position as section two, number two immediately.” He looked down at the table. “I can no longer trust myself.”

“I will do no such thing,” Waverly said adamantly. “Both of you will get to the bottom of this plot. Our organization has been greatly crippled by this latest Thrush effort. I want it stopped. And I want it stopped now. Dismissed.”

Both agents left the room, Illya walking slowly behind Napoleon.