The “Oh...” sounded amazingly delighted. Napoleon Solo raced towards his partner and stopped. The bright light was dazzling. Illya stood next to the threshold, looking up with a strange smile. Napoleon couldn't stifle a chuckle. They were at the bottom of an endless spiral staircase with a white coffered ceiling bathed in sunlight. It looked like to be brand new, nothing to do with the dilapidated concrete building.
“I don't like this... Illya! What the hell are you doing?”
The Russian waved his hand, obviously motioning his friend to follow him.
“We have to go upstairs, Napoleon. Come on!”