I don't own these characters, I've merely appropriated them for my own dark ends. (Insert maniacal laughter here.) I would like to thank all the talented ladies of the A.F.C., and the writers at this site for their wonderful stories. Thank you J. Lane, J. Rolls and M. McCroskey. There is some brilliant writing out there. Well, you won't find any of that here, but I have included everything including the kitchen sink. And, I finished. Ha ;-) Thanks for all your patience, Timeless-A-Peel. I couldn't have finished without your kind assistance.
Ashes to Ashes I
" I will show you fear in a handful of dust." T.S. Eliot
'We come into this world with nothing and we leave this world with nothing," intoned the vicar. And in between, Steed mused, we create a wealth of memories. He had attended far too many funerals in his line of work and they always seemed to bring out a morbid, almost fatalistic streak that he was loathe to admit existed. It didn't do to dwell too much on death. When he thought about it, he realized had a great deal more friends and loved ones who were dead, than those who were living. No one was more alone than a spy grown old. He had believed that his mission had been important enough to sacrifice his personal life. He made a commitment and he had never once wavered. Never questioned the choices he had made. At least, not until recently. Suddenly, he questioned everything-especially himself. He found himself pondering the unthinkable-had he made the right choices for his life? Most importantly, had he made the right choices regarding the lives of others. He was beginning to feel the familiar sensation that he was falling.
"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust."
Steed grabbed a handful of dirt and let it trickle from his hand to the open grave below. He was among the last to leave the grave site. As he placed his bowler firmly on his head, he turned directly into the path of Mrs. Emma Peel.
"Mrs. Peel." Steed carefully raised the brim of his bowler.
"Ms. Knight," Emma said with a wry smile."Now you know, Steed, that I took back my maiden name after my divorce. If it's business, you can call me Dr. Knight. Emma, if we're friendly. Really, I think you do that just to annoy me!" Her twinkling brown eyes belied any bitterness in her words.
"Emma, then." And he smiled in spite of himself. It was amazing after so many years the effect she still had on him. She still made him catch his breath. As she looped her arm through his, she warmed him in the chill April wind.
"I'm sorry about Sean Mortimer," she said walking with Steed towards the parking lot with measured steps, "I was surprised he was to be buried here. I thought he was a Yorkshire lad."
"Well, he didn't have any family. No next of kin. I thought it was a rather picturesque place. Mother left the details to me. Certainly one place is as good as another. He was a good agent. A good friend, I wanted him near." Steed looked up to the gray sky, his eyes skimming over the tops of the trees following the flight of a seagull. He looked as forlorn as the weather. At last he broke away and met her questioning gaze.
"Mother told you I was coming?"
"Yes." Steed said simply. "Are you driving back to London? Or do you have time for lunch? You and I should talk."
"Are you buying?" Emma teased.
"But of course, my dear. Why take the long drive back on the M20 when there's a fabulous little seaside inn that does a lovely trade in mussels lightly sauteed in garlic. Or perhaps, Coquille St. Jacques for old times sake?" For a moment he regained his old grin.
"Sounds wonderful, Steed." Emma leaned against the door of her Aston Martin Series III and brushed back her auburn hair from her eyes. "Would you like me to drive?"
Steed looked over her motor car appreciatively from bonnet to boot. Really, if he had looked at a woman that way Emma would have been instantly jealous.
"I take it you like my new car? The Lotus was, to be honest, a tad small."
"A V8 Flip Tail?" Steed whistled softly. "Emma, this is quite an aggressive muscle car. I didn't know it came in powder blue."
"Special order."
"Tempting, but I'll think I'll meet you." He leaned over as he closed her door, "Do you remember The White Egret?"
"How could I forget?"
From the glassed in deck of the restaurant, Steed and Emma studied the menu and in the moments that they thought they were unobserved they studied one another. By some tacit, mutual understanding, as if they had declared a temporary truce, they talked of nothing important. Even the weather was brooding- the gray waves churned onto the shoreline with white froth. The sun was distant and cold, and only the hardy braved the beach.
There was innocuous chat about mutual acquaintances and Steed's new horse farm. Really, she'd had to suppress her laughter when he had told her the name of his farm near Wiltshire. As the waiter hovered, Steed had finally asked that he bring them a bottle of wine and leave them.
"Of course, sir. May I make a suggestion from the wine list, or do you have something special in mind?"
"Oh, I think I'll let the lady choose. You always did have impeccable taste my dear." Steed stated as he turned to Emma with laser like attention. He waited to see if she would order their favorite wine.
Emma held his changeling eyes and felt her own well up. She raised her chin." Well then, I think I'd like the 67' Pouilly Fuisse . It was a marvelous year," she said pointedly.
As the waiter left to fetch their bottle, Steed looked out past Emma, seemingly engrossed in the terns as they ran on long legs staying just ahead of the breaking waves. At last Steed spoke, "Yes. A rare and never duplicated year. Sweet on the tongue, yet fleeting with almost no afterglow." Steed immediately regretted his harsh words and reached out to cover her hand. It was then he noticed the tears welling in her eyes. "I've never been a terribly reflective man. There are certain emotions that I find it impossible to express. At least, not in the ways that you needed. I failed you in that way." He grasped her hand tighter, "but you knew I loved you. I love you, Emma." There. He'd said it. And with an intensity that she'd never seen before in him. It was too ironic, too cruel that it was seven years too late.
The returning waiter opened the bottle soundlessly before discreetly moving off.
Emma had a faint blush of high color on her cheekbones that signaled that she was very upset. "And if you'd ever said you loved me once. Or asked me to stay! I met my replacement on the stairwell! What do you do? Order them up like Chinese take away?"
Steed looked rather dangerously, angry now. A spark of anger glinted from his grey eyes and he was running a hand over his mouth in that familiar gesture of exasperation.
"You know Mother sent her! And why on earth would you suggest that Peter pick you up at my flat? How convenient he left the motor running. Nothing like a hit and run. You should have brought him up to the flat for tea stirred anti-clock wise."
Their heated exchange drew sidelong glances from the other diners too far to be within ear shot. Although they spoke in low urgent tones, Emma and Steed's body language betrayed their agitation. Steed struggled to compose himself. He could see that he had wounded her. Maybe this was a necessary surgical procedure, unpleasant, but vital to survival of their future relationship. Mother had sent her once again, her assistance needed in a rash of unexplained industrial "accidents" along the northern English shore. A job which was imminently suited to Dr. Knight's degree in microbiology. Steed needed her expertise and truthfully, when Mother suggested that they re-team for this dire assignment, Steed had admitted to himself that he secretly wanted to see her again.
"We can't relive the past Emma. Correct old wrongs. I'm a different man now. I'd like to think I would have done things differently." Steed abruptly drained his glass, poured another, and drank yet another jot. "I don't recall that you ever said you loved me," Steed said softly. "I didn't think it was my place to beg you to stay."
Oh, Steed." Emma wondered how they could have gotten to this point. Had they really wasted all those years? Was there any way to reclaim what they had meant to one another? When Emma looked at Steed's handsome face she realized that she never had the option of not loving him.
"I need your help, Emma. Great Britain, needs your help . Maybe we can forge a future together. I'm betting on a future." Steed looked at her intently. Too proud to beg.
Emma nodded her head, not trusting herself to speak.
Steed, relieved that Emma had agreed to help, began to brief her.
Steed pulled out a map of the Kent coastline and drew two circles on the map-one of the nuclear plant at Dungeness and the other at the Eubury Fertilizer plant just off the harbour of Dover. "Here," Steed jabbed with his index finger, "is the nuclear plant sitting on a bed of ever eroding shingle. It's as shaky as an over fifty chorus girls knees. Over here, the fertilizer plant, with enough ammonium sulfate, and ammonium nitrate to be roughly equivalent to 1-2 kilotonnes of TNT. Factoring into the mix are the underwater oil pipelines that run under the English Channel. Have you ever heard of the Oppau Explosion? Or the Texas City Disaster? London has reason to believe that there may be a strike within this general area. If the Eubury Fertilizer Plant were targeted, the explosion would be felt 400 km inland and the devastation would rival Nagasaki, and all that would be if by some miracle the Dungeness Plant was not compromised. And if it were to be compromised.. Well, I can't even imagine the ramifications. I can't wrap my mind around it, much less articulate it. This is the area that Sean was investigating."
Emma, who never blinked, blinked.
Steed brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. Emma felt the familiar flush of desire well up as if summoned from the marrow of her bones. She wondered if she'd ever be immune to his charm.
"I've got to stay here. Sean Mortimer was working on something before he was killed.. I've got to put together the pieces. I don't suppose that you'd consider staying? I could use your assistance." Steed leaned eagerly over the table.
"I haven't got a thing to wear," Emma mused. She reflected back on the suitcase she had been contemplating packing. Had she actually packed her bag, Emma would have had everything she would have needed. But that would have been admitting to herself that she had entertained the notion of staying. No. If she were to stay, Emma was going to require more effort on Steed's part. He would have to convince her.
Steed lifted his eyebrow , "Really, you can pick up everything you need in town. I've never known you to need an excuse to shop. Anyway, it's all on expense. You're actually a bargain to HRM's Government. After all, you can't put a price tag on world order. Can you? It would be like old times. I can't let you go twice, now can I?
"Well, there's not much to hold me in London," Emma considered. "Let's see, the weather here is perfectly dreadful, so rooms must be in ample supply. All right, if I can find a room, I'll stay."
"Ah.. I've taken the liberty of booking us both into The White Horse Inn. Separate rooms of course," he hastily added, noticing the renewed flush to her cheeks. "Why don't you get everything you need for an extended stay? I'll have a chat with the local authorities, and I'll meet you back for dinner at, say around, 7pm." Steed rose and grasped his umbrella in his left hand.
"I'm glad you're staying," Steed said. Then, unexpectedly, bent to kiss her cheek.
Emma wondered if she wasn't courting danger twice. The diabolical masterminds did not worry her; it was the tall elegant figure now making his way back across the dining room. Emma shivered despite the warmth of the nearby fire and the thought came unbidden to her of the old wive's tale about a crow walking across her grave.
Chapter 2
Rather then explain why she had no luggage to the bellman, Emma elected to begin her necessary shopping and was back at her hotel by 530 P.M. The bellman unlocked the door and then crossed over the living room and drew the drapes exposing the thin, waning afternoon sun on the cliffs below. Well, at least Steed had gotten her a room with a view. Emma pretended to listen as the young man as he showed her the temperature controls, and bathroom. Now, the bellman stood expectantly at the door shifting his weight from foot to foot. Emma walked to the door, held out a 5-pound note, and gave the young man a disarming smile.
"By the way, you don't happen to know which room is Mr. Steed's?" She knew the effect she still had on males anywhere between the ages of 17-80. "Yes, of course", he stammered. "408, directly across the hall Mum."
"Thank you," Emma said as she closed the door. Trust Steed to make everything cozily convenient. She didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed at his presumption. She decided to give Steed the benefit of the doubt. Emma admitted to herself that it wasn't national security that kept her in this seaside town. It was Steed. He could be exasperating, even arrogant at times, undeniably stubborn. But Emma could forgive Steed of anything. Anything that is, but letting her leave. Emma mentally drifted back to Tuesday andher meeting with Mother.
Mother had contacted her out of the blue and invited her to tea at her earliest convenience. She had let the invitation sit for 48 hours while letting her innate curiosity battle against her cooler intellectual reason. And reason did appear to have the upper hand. That is, until the morning she had read over The Times. It was an inside blurb on page four that caught her attention. The death of a local business man found drowned in a local lake. Not earth shattering news, but the name leapt out at her :Sean Mortimer. Emma closed her eyes at the flood of memories. Sean Mortimer, the Glass House, and the intervening seven years. Emma as a point of pride had completed her Doctorate in microbiology. And even though she still left the day- to- day running of Knight Industries to her management team, she had began to assume more of a role in the company her father had built. Most importantly, she had divorced Peter Peel.
Emma had arrived for tea with Mother promptly at 4 p.m. and was whisked into the inner rabbit warrens of Whitehall. Checking in at the second security stop, Emma had the deja vu feeling of being summoned to the headmaster's study.
"Dr. Knight. How lovely to see you again. I must say you are looking extremely well." Mother beamed as he gestured towards a large wingback beside the gas log. "Now, do you want tea? China, or India? Or perhaps, something stronger? Mother peered at her, perceiving by her slight hesitation, Emma's nervousness.
"Tea. India will be fine." Emma said firmly.
Mother handed her a cup and saucer. "I believe you prefer lemon?" Mother said with a trace of a smile. He then parked his wheel chair at a right angle to herself and faced the large floor to ceiling windows. Mother paused, taking in the scenery and traffic activity far below still managing to keep Emma in his peripheral vision. He folded his hands in his lap, and turned at last to face her. "I know you're busy. I'll get straight to the point. You're aware if the recent wave of industrial and public health crises? We've had instances of a waterborne pollution that has resulted in large fish kills. An outbreak of Anthrax we just managed to contain and ultimately traced to the distribution of a commercial animal feed. And most alarming, numerous reports of barren fields had been traced back to the Eubury Fertilizer Plant."
"Yes. I've seen the reports. Very deadly. Very alarming. But hardly a matter involving the highest levels of National Security?" Emma said with a questioning frown.
"The contagion is neither accidental, nor random. For every incident, The London Times has received notice of the time and nature of the next strike. Interestingly enough, delivered via a warning on of the back of a Tarot card. We haven't worked out the meaning of the cards. We have some expert coming up from Brighton. A sister Hermione, something. Don't know where that will lead. Anyway. You saw the morning paper?"
"Yes."
Mother sipped his tea. "Sean Mortimer was working on linking the Asta Corporation to up river pollution, possibly direct, deliberate, fouling of the water way itself. The Asta Corporate was created by four unlikely companies merging. That would be the Dewar, Walker, Teacher and the Bell corporation. You're familiar with their products? They have certainly had there fair share of press in the last years. None favorable. All these mergers in the last seven years. Suddenly, you have revenue coming in and going out, from all sorts of questionable sources. Lastly, you have the acquisitions of Thistle Foods. Which from a financial standpoint, makes no sense since Thistle had been operating in the red for the last two years. Even if you're looking to do a strip off and sell off, the assets just aren't there. The bookkeeping boys are working at deconstructing the paper maze. Most ominously, there have been recent rumors of involvement in the Doomsday Group."
"The Doomsday Group? Isn't that sort of a lunatic fringe sort of thing. Surely, not a credible threat?" Mother's look belied that thought. "I don't suppose there's any chance that Sean's death could have been a simple fishing accident?" Emma said heavily, yet aware of where the conversation was leading.
"According to forensics there wasn't sufficient water in the lungs for drowning. There was no damage to the bones or hard tissues so we don't know how he was killed. Unfortunately, he had been in the water for three days . Our best guess is a blow to the back of the head. At any rate, he was most certainly dead or unconscious before he hit the water" Mother paused, "and his shoes were full of shale. In fresh water."
"And I've been summoned for what express reason?" Emma sighed.
"We could use your knowledge of microbiology. Your assistance and expertise could be invaluable. You would be retained my Her Majesty's Government as a consultant, with proper remuneration of course." Mother added hastily. "None of that cloak and dagger stuff. Just some routine inquiries, a little research and your report to be filed. You are, I believe still a visiting professor at Oxford University?"
"So, in essence, it's an indoor job with no heavy lifting," Emma said coolly.
"In a word, yes," Mother said brightly.
"Such an attractive offer. A lady could hardly refuse." Emma found herself wondering for the umpteenth time just how much the company actually knew about her. And, more importantly, whether she was still under surveillance.
"Good Then everything is settled. Of course, the Official State Secrets Act still applies. We just need a fresh signature."
"Alright."
"Good. I need you to go to Folkestone and check on the Eubury Fertilizer Plant. We prepared a cover story for you. Steed will brief you."
"Steed?" Emma hoped she didn't sound as shaky as she felt.
"Yes. Steed." Mother frowned. "Didn't I mention Steed? I'm most terribly sorry, I must be getting past it. We sent Steed down to Folkestone yesterday. Which reminds me, he should have reported in by now." He turned his head expectantly to the young female agent just entering.
"He phoned in this morning sir" Miss Brown said." There's a note on the left of your desk."
Emma walked back into the room and sat down wearily, "I don't suppose there's anything else you neglected to tell me? And Steed knows you've contacted me?" She said trying to steady her racing pulse.
"Well, of course, I dare say he's expecting you. I mentioned the possibility that you might be coming down to assist. As for further information, I expect Steed will give you a full report upon your arrival. Sean Mortimer's funeral is Wednesday. Steed will help you with accommodations"
Emma stared incredulously. "Tomorrow is Wednesday and you want me to go to Folkestone? I'll go to Sean's funeral and I'll make some general inquiries, but I am returning to London. I have no intention of staying. Any research can surely be done from here?" Emma tone sounded edgy to her own ears, and that realization notched up her irritation to anger.
"Why of course Dr. Knight. Any assistance you can provide would be invaluable. On any level. You must certainly decide what degree of involvement is too much. I'll leave the details to the two of you" Mother said cryptically. He then made an elaborate show of pulling his watch out of his waistcoat. Emma immediately thought of the March Hare, and apparently she was to be Alice. She had the uncomfortable feeling she was about to be dropped down the rabbit hole.
Chapter 3
Emma met Steed for dinner in the downstairs at 730pm. Really, it was as if they had never been apart, as if the past seven years had never occurred. She was aware he had two assistants now: Purdey and Gambit. She didn't really want to know about Tara.
She had seen the younger woman with Steed on the few social occasions when they had crossed paths. Emma and Steed had locked eyes across more drawing rooms then she cared to admit. Tara had looked to be a very possessive type. Always hanging onto Steed, as if dependent on him for the very air she breathed. But Steed wasn't so easy to tie down. Emma knew by experience that Steed needed a long lead. And he had always stayed faithful to Emma in his fashion.
Emma stretched an elegant elbow across the table. She regarded her old partner with a mixture of affection and gentle skepticism
"So tell me Steed, what were you going to do if I had gone back to London?"
Steed regarded her levelly across the brim of his raised glass. His eyes took in the long graceful curve of her neck, her perfect cameo face and the auburn hair that shone in the reflected candle light "Resign immediately and follow you back to London" he replied huskily.
"You know, I think you have changed." Emma said with a trace of a smile. "Now brief me"
"Since you insist….." Steed lined up the silverware-"We have the usual mix of perfidy from those who should know better, the usual mix of low criminal activity, and on the peripheral, the lunatic fringe. "
"Why, Steed, you've gotten cynical." Emma said.
He leaned closer "Can't we dispense with this until morning? I'll give you the official version tomorrow morning on our drive to Dungeness".
"We're driving to Dungeness tomorrow?" Emma said with more control than she felt. "Why do I have the familiar feeling I'm being manipulated . First by Mother, and now, once again, by you."
"Emma. To be perfectly honest I'm much too tired to think about anything tonight. I buried one of my oldest friends today." Steed was rubbing his forehead now in that distracted way he sometimes had. He looked more world-weary and more tired than she had ever seen him. He was still handsome, still broad of shoulder and narrow of hip. Only now he had the most charming hint of gray in his dark thick hair. Suddenly, whatever irritation she felt faded.
"Of course Steed."
"You don't have to go anywhere with me tomorrow. I wish you'd stay with me tonight. I mean…have dinner with me tonight" Steed finished abruptly.
Emma didn't remember the last time, if ever, she had seen Steed blush. It was somewhat disconcerting and somewhat charming. Truthfully, she was still intensely attracted to him physically. His close proximity -the warmth of his skin, the familiar scent of his lime soap and woodsy cologne brought back vivid memories. She knew she had never loved anyone the way she had loved Steed.
"Did Mother tell you anything?"
Emma looked inquiringly over the top of her wine glass. "Since when am I told anything?' she asked curtly.
"Ah, well, but this would have been personal. So he didn't mention that I am now seeing a psychologist?" Steed raised his eyebrows. "Twice a week like clockwork. I believe the term is- getting in touch with my feelings."
Steed looked at Emma as if to gauge her reaction.
"Is it because of your nightmares Steed?"
"Actually, it's got more to do with my waking hours. The official version is physical and mental trauma caused by my near demise. I was shot rather closer to the heart than is healthy. ' Steed leaned conspiratorially across the table-"but the rumor mill is that I attempted suicide. You know the drill, older man left for a younger, better-looking man. Of course, the powder burns on my waistcoat and the fact that I was found with the gun still clutched in my right hand, might have lent a bit of credence to the tale…"
"Are we talking about Tara? Because if we are. I have to warn you my tolerance is rather low…" Emma said dangerously.
"Well, actually, we're talking about the Chilticott. He shot me point blank range and left me bleeding on the Persian carpet. Damned impossible to get the blood out. Had to pitch it. Thank God it was a small caliber. Little 22 slug went right through me." Steed said conversationally. "He was decent enough to dial 999 for an ambulance before returning home to his wife. That would be, of course, Tara."
"So I surmised," Emma said icily. "Charming story. I can't think how it involves me."
"Yes. Well, it is a rather convoluted. Although I don't think, he meant to actually shoot me. I think he brought the gun for emphasis, and in the struggle…. Of course, Teddy's always hated me. I suppose nowhe has reason to despise me even more."
"I seem to be missing something. Teddy Chilticott shoots you and you're worried that you're off the Christmas list? Why would you even attempt to cover up for him? The man left you for dead!"
"Only because I insisted he go. Initially, I thought it would be a rather big scandal for him to be discovered with the "smoking gun" but then as I considered the ever widening pool of blood, I began to think perhaps it wasn't really going to matter much to me either way. In which case, he needed to look after Tara. You know, she left me rather abruptly. Eight months later, she's delivered of a 7 1/2 pound baby boy. I became concerned. I went to talk to her, to be reassured that I was not the baby's father. Teddy obviously took exception. He came to my London flat to warn me to stay away from his wife."
"Obviously. And are you the baby's father?"
" I don't know. Tara said Edward is not my son. We had stopped working together and we were no longer seeing one another. She came by the flat one night to talk.....It was... I'm not proud of my behavior, Emma. She was in love with me, and I needed someone to be in love with me." Steed trailed off.
"Quite."
"Had I been the father I was prepared to marry her. She turned me down."
"Were you in love with her?"
"I was fond of her. It's possible to experience love in varying degrees. One of the reasons she wouldn't marry me was because she knew I was still in love with you. She came to see me in the hospital…." Steed got that thousand-yard stare Emma had only seen in extremely stressful situations. It made the hairs on the back on her neck prickle.
Emma watched Steed shake something off mentally and return as if from a distant place. He then continued with a forced levity. "Upshot, no pun intended, I'm completely compromised at work and working with a very inquisitive, female psychologist. Really, its humiliating describing your dreams! Sometimes I have to make up the details!"
"You haven't told anyone it was Teddy who shot you?"
"No one knows. I thought it would create more problems and questions then it would answer. I'm dealing with a little residual anger, not to mention a resultant stiffness in my left shoulder.. But I hope they'll both pass. You're the first person I've talked with about all of this."
"Meaning you haven't brought it up with the inquisitive psychologist?"
"Actually, we just finished up my childhood and are working our way through my sexual fantasies." He saw Emma's pinched expression and realized she was in no mood for levity. "I'm being facetious. We're really discussing why I let the woman I love walk out on me. I've never had the sort of complete physical passion that you and I shared. I don't know if the feelings you once had for me are dormant. I want a chance to rekindle them. I would have made a terrible husband for Tara, but I might be imminently suited for you. Tara never did take to the country. Anyway, I'm tired of the field, and I'm not sure about a desk job. My immediate plans are to finish this assignment and resign. I haven't told anyone that either."
Emma had imagined on some level reconciling with Steed. And while she was being honest, sleeping with him. She had never been able to imagine herself, not even in her wildest daydreams, married to him.
"I hadn't known you had any unfulfilled fantasies left. Aren't you pushing the limits, proposing to two women within the last six months." Emma said dryly.
"You know my risk taking nature. Anyway, you're perfectly safe. My therapist suggested that I take a more prudent approach to any new romance." Steed said tongue firmly in cheek.
"Would that be your physical, or mental, therapist" Emma said pointedly.
"Well, I'm all right physically. Aside from that stiffness we discussed earlier. Other than that, unimpeded full motion…" Steed smiled roguishly. 'And while we're unburdening ourselves of past sins. Why don't you tell me about Peter?"
Emma looked at Steed steely-eyed. "Just because you feel the need for confessional, doesn't mean that I feel like sharing the most intimate details of my marriage. "
"As you wish, my dear. If there's one thing I have learned through therapy, it's to express my feelings. Pent up emotions negatively effect everyone." Steed said airily. Emma hoped he was joking. If Steed were going to get to all New Age philosophical on her, it was indeed going to be a long evening. Emma sighed. Maybe she did owe Steed an explanation, perhaps she did want him to know how much she had missed him every day, every night, for the last seven years. Hadn't they been too reticent with each other in the past? Steed had talked more freely and heartfelt that he ever had previously. Maybe he deserved the same sort of honesty.
"Peter knew about us. I'd changed in the three years Peter had been missing. I wasn't able to establish the same dependency I'd had on him previously. He had trouble accepting that. You always accepted me on equal terms. I never felt anything but independent with you."
Steed leaned forward,"I hope I haven't overwhelmed you. I have this nagging fear that you're going to bolt back to London if I let you out of my sight."
"I thought you knew it takes a lot to overwhelm me."
"Actually, it's a trait that I was counting on."
They smiled companionably at one another and finished the meal in an easy silence. When it was too late to postpone it any longer, Steed settled up the bill. They made arrangements in the lift to meet for breakfast at 8am. Steed paused and his hand brushed hers as he took her key and unlocked the door. Emma glanced questionably at Steed as he pressed the key back into her palm. He leaned in to kiss her. If the kiss haven't caught her unawares, her own enthusiastic response had. There was a brief struggle and Emma was barely able to muster the strength of will to step back.
"Since we had such an early call tomorrow, perhaps it would be better if we called it a night?" Emma said somewhat tersely.
His grey eyes regarded her somewhat carefully. "As you wish my dear. Sleep well, Emma." He abruptly dropped his hand from her waist. "I think I'll have a nightcap before turning in."
Steed turned back towards the lift and Emma watched him go, perplexed, kicking herself mentally as she watched the doors close. She acknowledged the undercurrent of physical attraction that ran between them as an almost palpable electrical current. She had seen the same raw, aching hunger in Steed's eyes. Steed had been at his most attentive, his most charming all evening, and now, at the time they should have been retiring together, Emma had rebuffed him in a not too subtle manner. Which would be fine if that was indeed the way she felt, but the simple fact was that she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. It was sheer pride and childish petulance on her part that was now keeping them apart.
Steed had the most inexplicable look on his face as the lift doors had glided shut. It was an expression that Emma couldn't quite define: it wasn't regret, or anger, or his familiar studied air of detached amusement rather, it was a look of utter melancholy.
When she entered her room, the message light was flashing. Emma called down to the main desk and was given an urgent message with a London exchange number and unfamiliar name. Ms. Brown answered on the second ring and immediately asked for Steed. Upon being advised that Steed was not in and pointedly advised by Emma that Mr. Steed was checked in to room 408, and not 410 as dialed, Ms. Brown paused before replying that they had already tried Steed's room and were hoping that she might have some idea of his whereabouts. Emma got a perverse sense of satisfaction from informing Ms Brown that she believed Steed was currently in the hotel lobby bar. Ms. Brown paused before inquiring in a reasonable tone whether Emma would mind getting him up as soon as possible? Emma took a deep breath before reflecting that her life was beginning to resemble a very bad Benny Hill skit. No, of course she didn't mind. She would have Mr. Steed return the phone call ASAP.
When Emma reached the entrance to the bar, she hesitated as she recognized the blonde barmaid, now seated directly across from Steed, seemingly entranced and hanging on his every word. Steed had one empty glass in front of him and was now working on the second. The blonde looked disconcerted as Emma stood over them with folded arms.
"I'm terribly sorry to disturb you, but you have an urgent business call."
The blonde stood and smiled non-competitively at Emma as she made a hasty retreat.
"Men. I leave you alone for 20 minutes and you've already picked up another woman. And to think that you proposed! Admittedly, it was a pretty weak proposal, but a proposal none nevertheless." Emma said mournfully.
Steed gave her a look of annoyance. "Why, I didn't know, you cared my dear." He drained the remains of his brandy and left a handful of bills on the bar.
On the lift, Steed patiently watched the floor indicator lights. "You do know she invited herself over, it would have been ungallant to be rude. " Steed said without looking at Emma.
"That's what worries me. Your accommodating nature. " Emma said drily.
"Well, I'm encouraged that you're so obviously jealous." He turned to her with a trace of a smile, "I've offered you an exclusive contract, if you choose not to exercise your option…. "
"Steed, you flatter yourself. I'm not jealous. I'm amused."
"You don't look very amused. As a matter of fact, you look positively peeved."
As they exited the lift Steed and walked Emma to her door. "You don't mind if I use your phone, do you? You'll need to listen as well."
Steed seated himself in the club chair by the window. He quickly rang back to Ms. Brown and listened intently punctuating the conversation periodically by a series of hmm's before finishing by promising to ring through his report in the next 24 hours.
"That was interesting. Things are apparently hotting up in London. " Steed looked thoughtful. "They received a new threat at the Times this evening."
"Any further information?"
Steed nodded his head. "The definite target is the Eubury Fertilizer Plant. The Times received a warning tarot card with a new time line. A date on the back of the Downed Tower. Two weeks before D-Day."
"What I need is a very large brandy," Steed said drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair."
"Haven't you had enough to drink already?"
"Apparently not. I'm still disgustingly sober." Steed said without a shade of humor.
Emma wordlessly poured two brandies from the bottle on the mini -bar. After handing one glass to Steed, she sat directly across from him and waited. He had loosed his tie and looked as if he had taken up permanent residence. He looked so comfortably ensconced in the wing chair and memory was such a fluid transposition of past images, that she felt it hard to remember how many intervening years had separated them. The lateness of the hour, the blood warming effect of the brandy, the comforting narcotic of his presence all conspired to lull her senses. But Steed's recent declarations of love had only served to irritate her. The memories of past occasions when she was desperate to hear the longed for, never uttered, phrase made the present circumstances painful. The reality in which Steed was possibly a father to a child that wasn't hers was also intolerable. She was still in love with him but wasn't sure that she could make the sacrifices necessary to successfully integrate her life with his. Maybe it was impossible. It was intoxicating, yet overwhelming to want, to need someone so much. The realization that she was deeply conflicted in her feelings towards Steed led her to regard him with a heightened sense of wariness. The word ambivalent sprang to mind, which Emma knew meant to be not blase about a situation but to be instead torn asunder by indecision.
"You needn't look that way at me Emma. I haven't any intention of trying to seduce you. I'm going to finish my drink like a good chap and go quietly off to bed, " Steed said sardonically. "I suppose you'll let me know when we've both suffered enough?"
"You presume too much Steed. You always have," Emma said simply. "As hard as it is for you to believe, my thoughts don't center around you. If you're waiting for me to come to some sort of realization of how we're some sort of star crossed soul mates, then the numerous brandies you've downed have gone to your head. You drink too much. You may have an illegitimate child, but on the plus side while that may be considered excessive in polite society, I feel you've been exceedingly lucky as you've apparently done half of London, and the surrounding country-side. I give you full marks, not just for sheer longevity, but for well and truly applying yourself." Emma finished scathingly.
Steed looked at her with his mouth agape, shocked at her bitterness. When Steed finally collected his wits, he became icily infuriated. "How dare you throw that back in my face. You've always castigated me for not always being completely forthcoming about all the details of my private life."
"You might have thought of keeping your trousers zipped! I really have no intention of ever becoming involved with you ever again on any sort of intimate level. You're simply incapable of monogamy. I'm not prepared to allow you to bed any woman who happens to catch your eye while I wait patiently for your inevitable return. There's nothing sadder than an aged roue."
"And you're basing this on what sort of evidence? I fended Tara off as long as a man can be reasonably expected to. Long after you'd left. Or, is this about the barmaid? Right. I've moved heaven and earth to get you down here. And now, with what up till this point has been a fairly wonderful evening, I'm going to have it off with the barmaid because you're not willing to sleep with me on our first evening together? After being completely celibate for the last eight months? Well, that makes about as much sense as all the other accusations you've tossed at me. Believe it or not, I've matured quite a bit in the last seven years. It's a pity I can't say the same for you. I'd forgotten how lethally sarcastic you can be. Poor Peter. I don't imagine he knew what hit him. But I've always been curious about one point: did you ever leave scratch marks on his back the way you did on mine?"
Emma was on her feet before she realized what she was going to do. The resounding slap she delivered to Steed surprised both of them.
Steed recovered first and had the audacity to smile derisively at her "I think you've wanted to do that for quite awhile. Tell me Emma, was it good for you?"
Emma moved to slap him again, but this time, Steed grasped her wrist firmly "Even a gentleman is not required to stand still while a women slaps him twice."
Emma then slapped him with her free left hand. Steed was angrier at her than she had ever seen him, he grasped both Emma's arms tightly. "I do hope you're not going to kick me now. Let's try to preserve what little dignity the two of us have left."
Emma then did the worst thing possible. She began to cry. Steed, momentarily stunned, his anger completely defused, pulled Emma tightly to his chest. He murmured soft words as he stoked her hair. Emma struggled for several moments to free herself before relaxing totally against his broad chest.
"I'm so sorry, Emma. I'm so sorry."
Emma wept as if the pent up disappointments and heartbreak of the last seven years could no longer be held back. Steed sat and held Emma on his lap attempting to sooth her while she curled against his shoulder . Slowly, he began to kiss her hair lightly. Quieting her with the warmth and familiar comfort of his body. Finally, she fell slept in his arms and he carried her to bed, tucking her beneath the covers.
Emma woke in the middle of the night disoriented with a profound feeling of unease and distress. It was a moment before she could recall exactly where she was and why she felt so unhappy. Almost simultaneously, she became aware of a presence. She was shocked to see Steed slumped in the chair beside the bed.. She immediately felt more secure, more at peace than she had in months.
"Are you sleeping?"
"No," Steed answered wearily.
"You're still here."
"Ummm." Steed regarded Emma with a touch of wary amusement.
" I want to apologize for losing control so completely."
"I'd almost forgotten what a frightful temper you have. Reminds me of the time we stopped for dinner at that little French Bistro. You accused me of flirting with the girl at the next table. I was sure you were going to create an international incident!"
Emma gave him a baleful look.
"But you made it up to me most charmingly later. " Steed leaned forward and trailed his index finger along the side of her face.
"Maybe I don't want to make it up to you. Perhaps I'm content to maintain the status quo."
"I'm quite willing to admit mea culpa. I'm quite willing to do anything you want," Steed said suggestively.
"Don't you think its time you went back to your own room?"
"Really, Emma, are you throwing me out?" Steed moved with astonishing speed to an upright position. He grasped his suit jacket off the end of the bed and shrugged his shoulders to fit ." You're the only woman to have thrown me out twice in one night. I doubt my pride will ever be repaired," Steed said petulantly as he closed the door."
"Goodnight, Steed. I love it when you're melodramatic." Emma smiled for the first time
in hours.
Chapter 4
During the night the wind had shifted bringing the promise of sunshine and warmer temperatures. By the time Emma had showered, Steed had arrived with room service. He looked disgustingly well rested as if he hadn't a care in the world .But last night's scene had certainly given lie to that assumption. He was troubled and that was uncharacteristic. What she'd always found so refreshing about Steed was his basic decent simplicity and his unreflecting honesty. Not that Steed didn't have his depths. Emma had a theory that most people were like onions, they peeled away in paper- thin layers. It was just that Steed had fewer angles than most. Which didn't mean Steed didn't have secrets. He had more than most. She supposed that some of them were rather dark. But they didn't affect his true nature. He was bright, sunny, and took a genuine child-like joy in the simplest pleasures. Yet, she still couldn't reconcile herself to the image of Steed as country squire. True, she had gotten out of the firm with no residual craving for the adrenaline rush. But Steed's motivations were another matter entirely. Unless he was indeed, very much changed, she too would have to classify him as "high risk" husband material. Perhaps Steed's therapist was right- he had "proceed with caution" all over him.
Steed was quiet during breakfast, perhaps to counter his extreme loquaciousness of the previous evening. He drank black coffee and eyed her surreptitiously. Emma found herself tying the hotel bathrobe more tightly then was actually required. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, she didn't like to ponder.
"Steed, I want to apologize to you again for last night. I don't know what came over me." Emma trailed off.
"There's no need to apologize. I provoked you and I'm sorry. We have a certain amount of emotional baggage. I was afraid to leave you last night. I thought you'd go back to London."
"No. I'd never leave without telling you." Emma said directly. "But I was curious about several points you raised last night. You said you'd moved heaven and earth to get me here. What did you mean by that?"
Steed took in a heavy breath. "My psychologist is Ministry appointed. You know I've never exactly followed the rules. I suppose I've made them nervous lately with my supposed 'instability' . What they want is to monitor my state of mind, perhaps add some balance with the right partner…. "
"I'm not following Steed."
"The Ministry wants me to settle down and take a desk job. For that, I need the perfect partner. The perfect life partner. I'm being groomed to run the London Bureau."
"This whole plot is an invention to reunite the two of us?" Emma said incredulously.
"No, the plot is real enough. But yes, events have been handled."
"I can't believe you would allow yourself to be manipulated like this."
"Actually, it's a case of from my lips, if not to God's ear, then most certainly to Mother's. Maybe it's time I'm controlling the game."
"So, you and Mother in some Machiavellian plot twist, conspire at cross purposes to reunite the two of us on a new case. And your marriage proposal? A career move for you? I don't suppose you thought of just calling and asking for an old-fashioned date? It would have been far less trouble."
"Yes. But I thought this would be much more fun." Steed smiled wryly. Sensing that he had gone too far, Steed began again,"I have to finish off my assignment. I owe that much to Sean. I'm not going to end my career in a maelstrom of innuendo and personal failure. And, not to put too fine an edge on it, I need you. "
" It just seems so Big Brotherish. Steed, how much does the Ministry continue to monitor me? How much of my life is Ministry knowledge?"
"Just precursory surveillance. They want to make sure you haven't cozied up to any of the opposition. Very low level." Steed said reassuringly.
"Quite. You make it sound like acceptable levels of radiation," Emma said with distaste. " I can't help thinking that you haven't told me everything. I don't think I could handle any further secrets."
"I've told you everything Emma. I don't think I've left anything out."
"I suppose you've thought everything through," Emma said helplessly.
Steed held her eyes without wavering. "I've thought of nothing else. I've had lots of time to think. I guess the simple question is, are you going to go… or stay?"
Emma knew she didn't really have a choice. She was here and she couldn't walk away twice.
"I'm staying. For the time being anyway."
Steed looked at her then made a calculated shift in the conversation." Now, that briefing you requested.. Purdey and Gambit are in London doing surveillance on the Doomsday Group, a loose collective of religious fanatics whose view is the world will end by fire and pestilence. The bulk of the membership seems to consist of the usual unfortunate individuals no longer taking their medication. Then, beginning last year, they began to exert a political influence within the conservative party. Suddenly, they appear to be generously funded and with a well defined political objective. We've had four instances of industrial terrorism within the last six months. All indications point back to the Doomsday Group. But the intriguing element is the four industrialists: Lelwelyn Bell, Jack Walker, George Dewar, and Charles Teacher. We've code named them the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. All are managing directors of large corporations. But its their firms that are so interesting: fertilizer, herbicides, and cutting edge pharmaceutical production and research. The only thing they're religious about is money. They're like pigs in a trough. Most alarming is the four merge to complete a hostile takeover of Thistle. What do companies like that want with the accession of a company that produces cereal bars and herbal teas?"
"Weren't they all at Cambridge together?"
"Yes. But all of them had been sent down for some infraction or another. Scurrilous rumours, squelched lawsuits and nasty insinuations surround the collective like a bad aura. They're all ruthless. I served in the same unit as Lelwelyn Bell; he was posted to Leningrad just before the end of the war. He was a very ruthless, unpleasant sort. He was one of the few people I can recall that actually made my flesh creep. You know the prickle at the base of your neck? The last communication from Sean suggested that there had been some sort of contamination at the Thistle Breakfast Plant that had been hushed up. Once these pollutants get into the food and water supply, we won't be able to stop the devastation. Not only does the Thistle Corporation have access to the waterways, but they're ideally suited for export over to Europe."
Steed stood and looked at his watch -"We have an appointment at 11am at Thistle. We're going to have a fishing expedition in the files. If nothing else, it should send the alarm bells ringing all the way back to London. I'm going down for the paper, why don't you nip across to my room when you've finished dressing. Unless, of course, you require my assistance?" Steed lifted both eyebrows inquiringly.
"You're too kind. I'll almost sure I can manage on my own"
"Yes, you can. Sometimes too well." Steed said in a tone that sounded mildly reproachful.
Later, as Steed walked Emma out of the front hotel lobby she was amazed to be ushered towards the passenger side of a Range Rover.
"What! No Bentley?" Emma said in consternation.
"Would you believe one of my oldest friends, blew up the old girl?"
"If that old friend were a woman, I can almost imagine it. I'm sorry. I know you loved that car. You couldn't find another?"
" Unfortunately, there are some things which are irreplaceable, and some things which are beyond mending. And no, it wasn't a woman. Thank God, I haven't had a break up that venomous," Steed said simply and without irony.
"I'm almost afraid of your next surprise. Would you mind if I drive?" Emma said balking suddenly at relinquishing further control to Steed.
"Of course not my dear," said Steed frowning slightly. "I'll navigate and you be sure to whip around the curves at double the posted speed. If we're terribly lucky maybe we won't have to worry about the Doomsday Countdown. Some unfortunate lorry driver will relieve us of our stress and cares. I can only hope it'll be a Guinness truck...."
Emma finished the line with Steed, "Mother always said that I'd die of drink."
"Heard that one have you?" Steed smiled as he noticed the flash emanating from Emma's brown eyes. "You drive, I've never minded a woman taking the reins, so to speak," Steed finished hurriedly.
"Quite. I remember your jokes, I'd just forgotten how annoying you could be." They walked to Emma's Aston and it took all of Emma's considerable self control to avoid peeling away from the kerb with a squeal of tires on asphalt. It took another 20 minutes of driving with breath taking vistas in the open air, before she felt her irritation fade. And to think that last night she would have made love with him with the proper amount of encouragement, but Steed certainly hadn't pressed his case. Emma inwardly winced at how vulnerable she was to him.
In between concentrating on keeping the Aston hugged to the coastline, Emma glanced over from time to time just to reassure herself of Steed's discomfort. He seemed to feel her every glance and looked questioningly at her. "Do you have any questions about the briefing?"
"Is there any idea of the time frame in which the strike is to be made?"
Steed shook his head. "Nothing other than what the note said. An educated guess is a two to three weeks. The note was cryptic at best. Anyway, it's a beautiful day for a drive. A lovely, blue cloudless sky and such perfect company." Steed looked at Emma with a bemused Cheshire smile.
The Ministry red card was an invaluable aid in allowing access to all sorts of private places, but Steed's absolute favorite pass was the one that stated Inland Revenue. It made everyone inordinately nervous. Suddenly, they were admitted to the most secret workings of the ASTA Corporation. Gordon Whiting's secretary cast a disinterested eye on the two of them as they began wading through the extensive files.
"Refresh my memory, Steed. Exactly what are we looking for?"
"Won't know till we find it."
"You're not encouraging me. "
"Acquisition proposals. You have a Thistle, a well-established corporation that's traditionally been food stuff oriented, suddenly acquired by agricultural and chemical concerns. The fields are just too disparate. Coupled with the strange political alliances- unusual doings indeed."
After searching through the files alphabetically for an hour Emma had begun to wonder about the filing system. Everything was filed in the wrong place. Either someone had jumbled the files, or someone had no clue what they were doing.
"It's a lot of paperwork. I don't suppose you thought to ask them to produce the files? Sometimes the simple approach works best. Why don't you ask her?" Emma indicated the secretary with a toss of her head. Emma then turned her back to the two of them and continued to busy herself among the papers.
"You're Susan Wells." Steed fixed her with his most ingratiating smile. "I'm John Steed, from the Inland Revenue. My colleague and I were wondering if you could help us locate the files pertaining to the recent takeover of Thistle Foods by ASTA?"
The secretary looked at Steed as if he were daft,"Yes, of course. They're filed under P for Pet Projects."
Steed and Emma exchanged puzzled glances. It was Emma that spoke first,"Pet Projects. Yes, I can't think why it didn't occur to us."
"Look, when you two finish up. Could you please replace the files and straighten up after yourselves? I've got a lunch date."
Steed and Emma managed to suppress their laughter till she had safely rounded up her purse and left the room.
"Oh, God. Pet Projects. Well, the staff certainly hasn't been hired for their expertise, " Emma said dabbing at her eyes.
"Nor, apparently for their customer friendly ways," Steed said locking the files into his briefcase."
"What's next?"
" I was thinking of a leisurely lunch. A delicious cold shrimp salad washed down by a crisp white, and followed by a daylight reconnaissance of the Eubury Plant. And of course, not too much wine, since you have a job interview with , head of development for the Eubury Plant. Of course, if you did indeed show up tipsy it very well could be a brilliant stroke of characterization!"
"A job interview?"
"Yes. Since losing Mortimer in that unfortunate fishing accident, Eubury is short one chemist."
"I'm sure you've jiggled my resume." Emma fixed Steed with a flat stare.
"But of course Dr. Knight. We've made you imminently corruptible. First there was that scandal with the undergraduate, and then the rumors about the unaccredited research assistant with the pilfered Doctorate notes. Oh, yes, and the unpaid gambling debts…" Steed trailed off as they exited the building.
"Oh God. I should have my head examined. Look, Steed, your personal life and career maybe in tatters, but I have a professional reputation and a life I made for myself to maintain."
Emma's vehemence had fleetness of foot had momentarily caught Steed unawares, but he quickly recovered and caught her at the wheel of the Aston. He reached easily past her and switched off the ignition.
"You're here because you care. Both about the state of British Security and public safety. And you care about me-" Steed said softly. He bent and kissed her mouth. "God, I love you Emma. Why does it always have to be so difficult?"
"Because you're impossible. Have you ever thought of leveling with me? Asking for my imput? No. You manipulate and rely on subterfuge. The direct approach uses far less energy and is often more productive!"
"I was very direct with you last night. And, as I recall, we each ended up sleeping alone."
"I can't say I was impressed with your perseverance."
"You are hard to get."
Steed kissed her softly at first then gently began to suck at her lower lip. When Emma gave into the delicate pressure and parted her lips, Steed traced his tongue gently along the inside of Emma's mouth. He flicked his tongue against hers, alternately nibbling her lower lip and sucking her tongue into his mouth. Emma felt the familiar jolt of desire that began in the pit of her stomach and quickly moved. Steed gave a low groan and moved from her lips to nuzzle her neck.
"Oh God, Emma. I've got the most appalling cramp in my thigh…" Steed murmured into her ear.
"You really do say the most romantic things Steed. I suppose you'll want me to work that out for you later?" Emma said with mock breathlessness.
Steed straightened up kneading his upper thigh. "One can only hope my dear." Steed said with a flash of a grin.
"I'm more then tempted to strand you." Emma said as Steed opened the door of the Aston and eased his frame into the seat beside her.
"Hmmm. Why don't we go back to St. Margarets. Steed took Emma's hand and kissed it. "We've got three hours to kill. Do you remember how we used to make love for hours? " Steed looked at her hopefully.
"Lovely. And what about my reputation? Checking in for an afternoon quickie. Steed, it's simply not done."
"Would I be so dissolute with your reputation? I know of a seaside cottage. It's a white washed charmer above a secluded cove. It has a lovely terraced garden. The Cliffs of St. Margaret. Looks like a postcard. After all, you'll need somewhere to live and the proximity to work is ideal. It's fifteen minutes from here."
Emma regarded him with a half smile. "Umm. It sounds as if you're selling real estate. The Cliffs of St Margaret? Isn't that on the way to Margate? How quaint. That's what I love most about you, Steed. You're a man of uncommon foresight and planning. That is, when you're not being presumptuous and devious. Of course, you're supposing that I'll actually be hired."
"I'm counting on it."
"I'm still not sleeping with you."
Steed sighed heavily.
Emma followed Steed's directions and arrived at the side lane which signaled the turn off and parked at the rear of the cottage. It really was a marvelous piece of real estate with steep cliffs that gave way to an incredibly open vista of blue sky and green sea. Emma smelled the sweet newly greening grass and the touch of salt that braced the air. She inhaled deeply, enraptured by the view and the warm sunlight on her back and felt freer then she had in months.
"I love it Steed," Emma said her brown eyes dancing.
"I thought you would. There's a key around here somewhere. The landscaping has grown quite a bit since the last time I was here. Give me a foot up there's a loose brick somewhere on the top of the wall....."
"Steed, we're not breaking and entering are we?"
"Of course not, Mrs Peel! I've acquired a lot of dirt over the years......"
"I know Steed, but that's not important now....."
"Real estate, Mrs. Peel...Parcels of land. What did you think I was talking about? " Steed jumped down from the wall brandishing a key. "I don't have tons of money stashed in musty vaults, save the small amounts that I have scattered about for a rainy day fund. I bought a lot of property with my ill-gotten gains. A little here, a little there. I first saw this place after crossing over from Calais after the liberation of Paris. A couple of years later, I bought her. Of course she's been turned out ever since as a rental."
Emma smirked. "So what we have here, is the Molly Malone cottage?"
Steed ignored her comment as he unlocked the front door."Of course, it's completely furnished. Remodeled in the last few years. Very convenient, if not exactly to my taste. I've had the refrigerator stocked. "
Emma stepped through the doorway and admired the simplistic layout. The foyer was rough fieldstone and the room was constructed with a state of the art kitchen which dominated the great room. French doors led to the outside garden and terrace beyond. It was all very bright and white. In fact, Emma thought it to be the antithesis of Steed who liked heavy, dark furniture and historied dwellings with bad heating.
"It has three bedrooms upstairs . Why don't you wander through and I'll throw together the lunch and we'll picnic on the beach."
By the time Emma had explored the rest of the house, Steed had packed the basket and blanket.
There was a footpath that wound down to the cove below. Steed steadied her with a hand on her elbow for the steeper footing. He spread the blanket by the shelter of a large rock outcropping that blocked the wind and wordlessly laid out the dishes with a concentration that Emma found amusing.
"Steed, it looks delicious. I'm quite suddenly famished."
"There's a marvelous white that I ordered from the village." He poured them both a glass. "It's rather crisp and clean and goes rather well with the peaches and goat cheese. Sounds like an unusual pairing, but the smoky taste of the cheese is offset by sweetness of the peach. Rounded off by the baguette of course. Or, there's always the shrimp salad."
"Steed, everything's marvelous. However," Emma contemplated the peach, "I'm not sure I dare. However, everything else is perfect."
When they had finished eating, she lay back and luxuriated the sound of the crashing waves and the intoxicating effect of the wine and sunshine. Steed lay propped on one elbow. Emma could feel Steed's eyes on her. She slowly opened her eyes to find Steed staring intently at her.
"Are you going to stare at me, or are you going to kiss me?"
Steed didn't need further prodding and promptly brought his lips to hers. There was nothing more intoxicating than Steed's slow, deep, precision kisses. He used just the right amount of pressure. Emma felt quite limp and languid below him changed as if by alchemy from solid to liquid. Steed quickly changed from cool to hot. His kisses became more insistent, more heated. Emma involuntarily flinched as she felt Steed's hand on her stomach. Emma placed both her hands on Steed's chest and pushed with just enough force to separate herself from his embrace.
Steed looked at her intently without a trace of anger. "I don't understand," Steed said softly. "You invite me to kiss you and then push me away. Why? Don't you want to make love with me? What are you afraid of?"
"I'm afraid of the shift of power. I'm terrified of the degree of vulnerability you are capable of extracting from me. I don't want to wonder when you're not home on time where you are, or even if you're ever going to return. I don't think I've got the strength." Emma said simply. "I want trite things like physical and emotional security. Things you couldn't possibly understand."
"But I do understand. I've told you I want to marry you and retire. What more is there?" Steed said tiredly. "Are you still in love with Peter? "
Emma sat up and brushed her hair out of her eyes and sighed heavily." No. The simple fact is that we wanted different things. Beyond that, I don't want to discuss it further."
"I am sorry. Well, my offer is open and on the table so to speak." Steed smiled "Anyway, its getting late you have a job interview, and as for me, I think a little daylight reconnaissance of the Eubury Plant is in order. " Steed fumbled in his waistcoat pocket and extracted a ring. "Give me your hand, my dear."
Emma stunned, let Steed lift her left hand and place a rather large, square emerald ringed with diamonds firmly on her finger. "I had it reset and sized for you. It seems presumptuous of me, but you once looked at one like this in Paris. I hope to follow this up with a more traditional proposal later, but right now it's necessary for our cover. We've been married for the last year and I'm a freelance journalist for the ubiquitous travel trade. It gives one unlimited leeway for asking any number of mundane questions and will allow me to stumble through the country-side without raising any eyebrows. Oh, and do your best not to lose it. It's extremely valuable, but more importantly, the stones are from my Gran's ring."
*****
After driving to the plant, Steed and Emma split up in the parking lot and promised to meet back at approximately 430pm.
" Dr. Knight, I've looked over your resume, and I must say it is very impressive. My biggest question is how you perceive your role in furthering the company's economic market share." Dr. Mathias shuffled through the papers in front of him.
Emma seated across the massive oak desk and tried to look appropriately motivated. "Surely, that's a role for your marketing department? I envision my contributions to be more in the line of research and development. Of course, conditions are favorable for the market. Coupled with a normal spring which would preclude a shift to soybeans, the company could be in a very financially favorable position."
Emma felt as if she had already begun selling fertilizer.
"A very astute analysis of the market." Dr. Mathias said in a pleased voice.
They discussed the relative merits and balance of the three organic, three primary, and three secondary elements and the mix of micro-nutrients that make up the base fourteen and how effective they were on diverse crop studies. They then moved on to a detailed analysis of the Haber Process. Just when Emma began to think she was going to have an out of body experience, Dr. Mathias moved to rise from behind the desk.
"Why don't I show you around the plant and we can discuss your reactions? It's an old building, the production part needs renovating, but we are quite proud of our facility here and are committed to providing all the resources necessary to maintaining our research edge."
Dr. Mathias passed behind her placing his hand too familiarly for Emma's comfort in the small of her back. She resisted the urge to somersault him onto his pompous ass. Once the mission was completed, Steed owed her the most expensive dinner to be had in London.
"Let me show you the research lab first. We analyze and create fertilizers with the proper composition and balance for the optimal crop yield. The microbiology section tests for the presence of pathogenic bacteria and quantifying pesticide residues. They also perform testing on disinfectants, fungicides and soil sanitiziers to ensure their effectiveness."
Emma met with two research assistants and inspected the adequate lab facilities. After exiting the lab, Emma and Dr. Mathias moved past a bored looking security team and entered a small changing and showering area.
"For the complete tour of the production plant you'll need to don protective gear. Chemical goggles must be carried at all times. In the actual manufacturing area, you will need the full safety suit with butyl rubber gloves and boots, plus respiratory protection. Safety has always been paramount to the Eubury Corporation, Dr. Knight. While you change, I'll go to Personnel and start the paperwork. If you like what you see, we can have you on board by Monday."
Emma, with an inscrutable look on her face she hoped passed for interest, decided that dinner was not going to be enough. Steed was going to owe her a trip to her vacation destination of choice.
Dr. Mathias handed her the complete kit, all approximately in her size. When she emerged from the ladies changing area, the good Doctor was back and waiting expectantly.
Emma felt like an alien invader, curiously detached in her sensory deprived state as she moved among the huge, stainless steel tanks of the factory. She was unprepared for the heat and smell. Even with the protective gear, her eyes stung slightly. It was noisy as well, a loud industrial hum that shook the floor beneath, and there was the jarring impact of the metal scaffolding as the workers moved above from vat to vat. Emma imagined that the same ambience must exist at the sulphured gates of hell. Emma motioned to leave to Dr. Mathias.
"Well, that was certainly overpowering. " Emma said stripping off her mask and gloves once safely off the floor. She was streaming sweat. "How are the emission level standards?
"Well within the legal limits, Dr. Knight."
Emma was betting he was lying. But her biggest question was how quickly she could get out of here. She shook his hand after agreeing to return at 830am on Monday.
Emma waited until quarter after five, then began to worry about Steed's whereabouts. He finally showed up nonchalantly emerging from a dense line of trees as if out for an evening stroll. Emma's concern quickly turned to irritation as she could see that he was in perfect health, and apparently, perfect spirits.
"Where have you been?" Emma demanded with her arms folded firmly across her chest.
"Sorry I'm late, my dear. Head of Security found me wandering the grounds and took me over to this charming pub and insisted on buying round after round. He was a little cool at first, but I told him I was married to you. Did you know that the plant has a ratio of three security persons per twenty-five workers? I don't think our Ministry Defense Plants have that level of security. Oh, and the hardware is just as impressive. Before he found me, I checked the storage room, they had a regular armory. And how did your afternoon go? Did we get you gainfully employed?"
"Yes." There was a long pause that was finally punctuated by the roaring to life to the Aston's engine. Steed had to step quickly once again to avoid being left.
"Well, really dear. Here I sit, prepared to be supportive and relive your career triumphs and you're just not communicating with me."
Emma swore under her breath.
"I'm sorry, Emma did you say something?
"I've had to talk about fertilizer for the last hour. Inhale its fumes for the last 30 minutes and I'm really not up for your own particular brand of fertilizer right now Steed. I don't know if I'll ever get the smell out of my hair " Emma said coldly. "The plant looks like a throwback to the Dickens age. If the Doomsday Group doesn't blow it up, I'll be tempted to do so myself. Dr. Mathias seems oblivious. I know their emission levels are nowhere near standard. Even with protective gear, I could feel the burn. Do you know what the collective exposure to those fumes can do to a human being?"
"Yes." said Steed simply. " But then, I've always been a Luddite. It's a horrible job, but it's a wage packet. I don't know what the answer is, these days I'm not even sure of the correct question.. The old community was completely dependent on a fishing and farming economy. But with the recent pollution, the fishing industry has all but been destroyed. More and more, those that have formerly made an independent living off the bounty of the sea and land are forced to take industrial jobs. Science, it's the curse of modern society." Steed said thoughtfully.
"I disagree, science is wonderful. Mankind is simply incapable of keeping up with its technological advances. Science has given us vaccinations against disease, the ease and convenience of jet age travel, microwave cooking, and a host of other modern day inventions. Unfortunately, humanity and an enlightened attitude lag well behind technological advances. It's the main reason I considered selling off Knight Industries. To be competitive in the market, one has to cut expenses in the way of employee staffing and benefits. Humanism is completely out the door. It's hard to reconcile my principles to the current business environment which is pushing towards enslaving the third world nations populations into producing goods for the consumption of the expanding middle class . Did you know that currently the world's wealth is held by 3 percent of the world's population? There are days when I feel positively socialist!" Emma said somewhat heatedly.
"Well, I for one prefer a simpler lifestyle. I'm thinking of a simple dinner, followed by a simple brandy." Steed said with a distinct note of false optimism. "I say you're not going to pass on that blind curve are you?" Steed said with alarm.
Emma drove with her usual break neck speed. By the time she had driven back to the cottage, some of her good humour had been restored by the obvious discomfort Steed manifested. It had always amused her that Steed, with his renowned nerves of steel, was agitated by her driving. Emma parked on the grass by the edge of the cliff.
"I'm going for a swim. I've got to diffuse this chemical stench off of me. Are you interested in coming?"
"You're going for a swim?" Steed said incredulously. "The water temperature must be a good forty-five degrees! You're going to freeze your…." Steed trailed off. Damn the impetuousness of the woman! She was already well out of earshot. Apparently, his dinner was going to have to wait. Well, one thing was certain, if they had daughters, Steed was in serious trouble. He watched her strip as she neared the water's edge and then continued to watch her until she had moved smoothly beyond the breakers. Steed then turned and trudged up to the cottage. He returned 15 minutes later with a large blanket and towel, and a very large brandy. He sat on the nearest rock that still afforded dry sand for his hand tooled leather shoes and lit up a cigar. Emma was now treading water about 6 yards offshore, and called to him again to join her.
"I'm afraid the water is a little too frigid for my taste." Steed said pointedly.
"You're not going to sit and watch me get out are you? You are planning to be a gentleman and leave the towel there, aren't you?
"You weren't so shy about 20 minutes again. And yes, I have every intention of sitting here until you emerge. One does take that chance when one chooses to skinny dip on a public beach. One can only hope that the local vicar, whom you met at Sean's funeral, and who by the way lives not 400 yards around the bend, doesn't choose to take his routine evening constitutional. And darling, you know I'm not really a gentleman."
"You bastard."
"Darling, your language of late has been absolutely shocking! I hope you're not going to talk that way around the children. Anyway, I've memorized every nuance and freckle on that gorgeous body of yours and could find every erogenous zone on your body blindfolded, so any semblance of false modesty is completely out of character for both of us." Steed emitted a thin, white stream of smoke skyward.
Emma, succumbing to cold and futility, began making her way to shore. She rose from the sea as if Aphrodite newly risen. Damn Steed. He really was the most infuriating man. Emma's teeth were chattering in the cool evening wind, but she was determined to make Steed as uncomfortable as possible. She languidly walked up to him, took the proffered towel and began to towel off her hair vigorously as she ignored his look of lust. Looking covetously over at his brandy, Emma asked "Where's mine?"
Steed, finally recovering his power of speech, downed a sip of brandy too rapidly and replied hoarsely. "I'm afraid you're going to have to fire me as cabana beach boy, I was only able to bring a blanket, towel and one glass. If I'd only brought the hand towel I was contemplating, I would have been able to bring the second glass. By the way, you look rather cold, " Steed said looking pointedly at her chest. " I think that for both our sakes you should wrap this around you." Steed rose and enveloped her with the warm blanket. Emma took Steed's glass from the top of the rock and drained it in one gulp.
"Emma, I'll have you know that was a thirty year old Napoleon. That brandy is for sipping not gulping." Steed said with mock irritation. "Perhaps you should go jump in the bath before you catch pneumonia." He then sat back down staring moodily out to sea. He said without looking back at her, " Mind how you go, the footing can be a bit tricky."
When Emma turned from the top of cliffs she could still see the ember of his cigar flaring in the gloaming below like a firefly. God, he did infuriate her so, but he also amused her. Mercurial at best, his moods seemed to change ever more rapidly.
End of Part I
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