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"The Unobtrusive Guest"

An Avengers Fanfiction

Eighteenth in a series

Steed goes unnoticed. Emma has an eye for detail.

Disclaimer: Some copyrighted characters have been borrowed

Deep-cover KGB agent Pyotr "The Ladja" Pehlovich, known in England as the "late" Peter Peel, has succeeded in stealing the mysterious chemical known as Formula Thirteen. Now, accompanied by his chesty Russian Emma-surrogate Mistress Ursula Leov, he puts his plan into action...

-oOo-

Emma stretched out over the railing of the reviewing stand, straining to see through a pair of binoculars. Several men on horseback were marching in close array, followed by a team of bagpipers. Off in the distance, a line of antique convertible cars crawled along the boulevard in the warm spring air.

Steed stood next to her and lightly tugged on the glasses' strap. While he waited, he looked down to admire the flash of leg that Mrs. Peel was showing between her shamrock-colored minidress and black leather boots. Whoever came up with the idea of the traditional "wearing of the green" for St. Patrick's Day probably didn't have such a display in mind.

"A rather impressive sight," she mused, rotating the lenses.

Steed nodded. "I couldn't agree more."

"The equestrian brigade approaches," Emma announced, pointing towards the street.

"I'll need my binoculars back."

Steed accepted the glasses from her and raised them to scan the avenue, but Mrs. Peel had forgotten the strap around her neck. Her head was pulled so close that it touched his.

"Hey!" she protested.

"You knew this was a parade," Steed scolded playfully. "Why didn't you bring your own?"

She disconnected the strap. "You're supposed to provide for your date," she teased.

"So this is a date, eh?" He produced a small pair of folding opera glasses from his pocket. "Here."

Emma popped them open and turned the focus knob. "Always prepared. I like that in a date."

The horses passed by and the motorcade was now in sight. A familiar green Bentley was bringing up the rear.

"So that's where your car went."

Steed nodded. He trained the binoculars on the smiling man waving from the back seat. "Here he comes."

Emma wrinkled her mouth. "A bit flashy for a Minister."

"He has aspirations for something higher. He wants to be seen as a man of the people."

There was a faint noise of someone walking on tiptoe down the steps of the reviewing stand. A stranger with ice-blue eyes casually moved up behind Steed and nudged his way to the railing, pushing Emma gently aside. He set a leather case on the wooden barrier and flipped open its latches. Inside was a sniper rifle, which he began assembling.

"Would you hold this for a moment, please?" he asked, handing Steed the scope while attaching the stock to the barrel.

"Eh? Oh. Certainly." Steed lowered his binoculars.

The stranger propped the rifle on the edge of the railing and moved it into firing position. "Emma dear?"

"Oh? Pardon me." She smiled and moved down a few inches. The stranger took the scope from Steed and traded him the leather case. Then he steadied the rifle and eyed along its length.

A loud crack split the morning air. Emma instantly recognized the sound.

"Did you hear that?"

Steed frowned. "I think someone fired at the Minister."

They both watched in alarm as the figure in the car crumpled forward, his shoulder blossoming with crimson.

"He's been hit!" Emma cried.

"The shot came from this direction." Steed spun around and began scanning the crowd. He came face-to-face with the stranger, who stared back amiably.

"Could I have my case, please?"

"What? Oh. Here you go." Steed handed him the rifle case. The stranger turned to leave, then thought better of it for a moment. He walked over and planted a kiss on Emma's cheek.

Steed noticed a vacant, confused look in her eyes. "Mrs. Peel?"

She looked around, puzzled. "Did something just...?"

-oOo-

Steed watched stoically as a nurse covered the sutures on the Minister's arm with a gauze bandage. When she was done, a security guard pushed the wheelchair through the emergency room doors and whisked it out to a waiting car. Steed gave a polite wave as the entourage pulled off. Emma shouldered in next to him.

"How is he?" she asked.

"He'll be fine. The assassin just grazed him. Probably will increase his chance for higher office, being wounded in the line of duty." Steed followed her out into the hospital waiting area. "But government officials don't like having pot-shots taken at them. The person in charge of security will be in very hot water."

"And who would that be?"

Steed smiled.

"Oh, Steed." Emma sympathetically rubbed his arm.

"We're not entirely without clues, though. I did find this." He showed her a small metal cylinder.

"A spent shell casing?"

"Right next to where we were standing," he said. "It must have bounced off something to land at our feet."

"Hard to believe the would-be assassin was so near, and neither of us could spot him."

Steed nodded. "I figured I would pay a visit to the Ministry this afternoon and show it to the Armourer."

Emma smirked, "...And you want me to tag along."

He adjusted his bowler and feigned innocence. "I wouldn't dream of inconveniencing you."

"You know that the Armourer doesn't like talking to you, but always has time for me." She flirtatiously adjusted the hem of her green minidress.

Steed grinned, pretending to be immune to her charms. "What can I say? The man is completely smitten."

"So you just thought you'd use me as your personal female expediter?"

"You make it sound so dirty."

Emma playfully nudged his hip. "I'll be happy to come along." She got a distant look in her eyes, as if probing for a long-lost memory. "Something very strange happened today. I want to know what it was."

-oOo-

Mistress Ursula Leov lazily stretched her arms as she reclined on the bed. She wore nothing but the briefest of silk panties. Her auburn hair, dyed to match Emma's, had been taken down from its braid and now spilled about her ample breasts.

"I wonder when Pyotr will return..."

The man next to her in bed gave her a squeeze. "I'm right here."

Leov let out a squeal that turned into a purr, then kissed him. "When did you get back?" she asked.

"I've been here the whole time. I returned an hour ago, after I left Steed at the hospital."

"The Minister's alive?"

"Of course. I didn't shoot to kill. The aim of my plan is to destroy John Steed, not eliminate a petty bureaucrat. Steed will now embark on an urgent and desperate search, thinking the assassin might make another attempt on the Minister's life. It's the only way he can save face." He gave a smug, evil grin. "That will lead him right into my trap."

Leov was silent for a moment. "Pyotr?" she suddenly called out. "Where are you?" She sighed heavily and said to herself, "Why does he keep leaving?"

"I'm here!" he answered with annoyance, then shook his head in resignation. The chemical should wear off soon enough. Formula Thirteen would try his patience if it weren't so useful.

Leov frowned in concentration. "It seems like you keep slipping away." She squinted at him like a scientist looking into a microscope.

"Don't strain yourself," the Ladja said. He hooked his finger in the waistband of her panties and gave a tug. "I'll just have to do something so that you can't forget my presence."

Mistress Leov reached over and brushed her fingers against a leather riding crop on the nightstand. "I will have to discipline you," she threatened, "if you call out your wife's name again."

Pehlovich gave a smirk. "Then perhaps I will."

-oOo-