Pre-AVENGERS
A short, thin man in a spotless black suit entered the lobby of a glamorous hotel. He addressed the perky woman behind the desk, "I will be checking out today." The man glanced warily through his tortoise shell glasses at his surroundings.
"Thank you for coming to the Millbury Castle resort," replied the receptionist. "I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Haley."
Mr. Haley barely acknowledged the woman's remark as he wrote out an expensive check. He handed it to the receptionist before calling a bellhop to help him with his luggage. The porter placed all of Haley's baggage on a cart except for a black briefcase that the businessman clutched tightly to his chest.
As Haley was leaving the castle that had been renovated into a hotel, a voice cried out, "I say, Haley, I haven't seen you in quite some time!"
Mr. Haley looked about himself until he discovered the owner of the voice. It appeared to be an old friend from his army days, Colonel Fitzgibbon. "Fancy meeting you here," Fitzgibbon added as he extended his arm for a handshake. "You've always been the relentless businessman, never taking holidays."
"Well, that's how I became one of the wealthiest men in this part of the country," Haley promptly retorted. "And I wasn't taking a vacation; I was here on a business transaction. Somebody wanted to buy my company from me, but I refuse to sell out to anyone or anybody." Mr. Haley spoke loudly now, as if he wanted a certain person to hear him. He nervously set his briefcase down on the stone floor.
A man concealed in the shadows of a suit of armour glared menacingly at the Haley's declaration. As Haley bid adieu to his old acquaintance, the man who had been hidden followed him out the door. Just as Haley was about to cross the car park to his automobile, the stranger called, "You shouldn't have refused our offer, Mr. Haley. You will live to regret it."
"Your price was too low for an expanding corporation like mine," Haley scoffed.
"Just the same, you have made a grave error," the man responded icily.
Haley hopped into his car and drove off down the castle's privately owned, dirt road. The stranger remained on the gravel parking lot, his lips a thin line.
Colonel Fitzgibbon rushed out of the castle with Haley's briefcase. "Come back; you've forgotten this!" he bellowed to the open space where Haley's car previously was parked. He jumped into his own vehicle and took off after his friend. Colonel Fitzgibbon drove more than ten miles over the speed limit in order to catch up with Haley. After three minutes of speeding, Fitzgibbon realised with alarm that he should have caught up with Haley by now.
He scrambled out of his automobile to examine the area. Bordering the beaten dirt road were large cattails and other undergrowth. Straight ahead of Fitzgibbon was the end of the dirt path that led into the main roads of the village of Millbury. Suddenly an inspiration came upon him as quick and as bright as lightening. He pushed his way into the brushes and cattails, farther and farther into the unknown. Finally, the Colonel saw what he had feared: Haley's car deserted in the high grass. There was no sign of life anywhere, nothing that would indicate that anyone had been there recently, not even a set of footprints. Yet there was Haley's car, the luggage still piled neatly in the backseat.
Fitzgibbon returned to his car only to discover that Haley's suitcase, which he had left so carelessly on the front seat of his Mercedes Benz, had been stolen.
The Last Resort
Steed Takes a Holiday
Emma Falls for a Stranger
First Day
Emma Knight was the no-nonsense businesswoman who had managed to become the chairman of the board and managing director of her business at the age of twenty-one. This would have seemed an even greater accomplishment if it weren't for the fact that her father had left her in charge of the corporation when he had died six months ago. Miss Knight, the intellectual woman with an I.Q. of 145, ran the business with an iron fist, to use an expression.
It could appear to the outside that she was a tyrant, but Emma had to lay down certain rules or all the men who worked under her wouldn't respect her. It was, after all, 1961, a year when women's rights were still talked about in subtle tones and mostly in the homes. All the workers, with the exception of the several female secretaries, found it insulting to be working under a woman. The few men above Emma in power found it quite amusing.
Perhaps that was why Professor Keller had decided to disobey orders and had been discharged. Maybe he had a difficult time submitting to the rules and ideas of a very emancipated woman. Whatever the case, Emma Knight had earned the reputation of being the stiff and detached boss whom no one ever messed with.
If people had truly known her, they would have realised she was sassy, sexy, and incredibly amiable. They would have seen that Emma had a penchant for art, sewing, science, and her favourites: kung fu and karate. She was not biting and sour like whiskey but cool and mellow like her preferred drink, champagne.
It was when she was misunderstood that Emma thought the most about her father Sir John Knight. She vividly recalled the afternoons they would spend together, horseback riding or just reading the latest edition of their subscribed science digest.
It had always been a custom of theirs to try a new hobby every month. If Emma had no desire for the certain hobby, she could give it up. If she liked one well enough, she could continue it for as long as she liked. Being well to do certainly was convenient at times. Emma only remembered several activities that were unsatisfactory in her eyes. One was ballet, while the other was professional singing. True, the ballet training had been important when she was developing her kung fu skills, and she did enjoy singing, but the hobbies had just been too strenuous for the young and thrill-seeking woman.
Miss Knight often wondered why she relished chopping wooden blocks and bricks apart over practising music scales. She didn't consider herself a tomboy by any means, but maybe deep inside she really was. Or maybe she felt so confined by the duties of a wealthy man's daughter and the duties of the chairman of a huge corporation that she just had to find excitement somewhere. And fighting an opponent was an exhilarating ordeal for her. Perhaps in the future she could put her excellent karate and kung fu skills to a good and productive purpose . . .
On that fateful Monday when she entered her spacious office, Emma was somewhat annoyed at the behaviour of her employees. The workers had been talking blithely with each other until she stepped into the lift, and then an uncomfortable silence fell over them all. Miss Knight had long given up trying to start a friendly conversation with anyone, for as soon as she broke down the barriers she was asked on dates by every available man in the vicinity. The only worker she could be chummy with was Nancy Young, the black haired personal secretary to Miss Knight.
"Hello, Emma, how are you today?" asked Nancy. When she received no response, she demanded, "Are you feeling ill?"
"Have you ever known me to be unwell?" Emma seated herself in her desk chair, crossing her legs sexily at the ankles. She smoothed her black leather skirt, which stopped several inches above her knees.
"You have a board meeting at nine o'clock this morning," Nancy reminded her. "Oh, and your horoscope says that this week you will bump into a tall, dark, and handsome stranger."
Emma smirked amusedly as she replied, "You know I don't believe in horoscopes."
"Well, perhaps it will come true today, though!" Nancy protested.
Emma marched over to the desk and opened Nancy's desk drawer. There were more than twenty issues of old horoscope magazines from previous years. Emma Knight flipped to the summer edition of last year and opened to a marked page. Smiling superiorly, she pointed at her fortune from the previous year. "'You will meet a tall stranger in a trench coat,'" Emma read.
"All right, so it said the same thing two years in a row; maybe it's trying to tell you something."
"It's trying to tell you that you need a new hobby." Emma gathered her papers for the meeting together before entering the committee room.
Her peers greeted her quite cordially as she seated herself in her appointed chair. "I suppose you know Mr. Cunningham, Miss Knight?" asked Lanier, the chief executive.
Emma surveyed Cunningham, a blond man with the piercing green eyes and sneering visage. She took an immediate dislike to the man of thirty odd years of age. "How do you do?" she asked as politely as she could muster.
"As you know, Mr. Cunningham wants to buy this company for a rather reasonable price," Lanier continued.
"I think it would be in your best interest to buy, before we change our minds," Mr. Cunningham began rather threateningly.
"This was my father's brainchild, something he worked at for years. As you may know, he just died several months ago. I'm not ready to let go of this corporation," Emma retorted.
"Don't let your feminine sentiments mingle with your economics," Lanier warned.
"I just don't think the deal is that fair," Emma insisted. She was being treated inferiorly again, something that aggravated her.
"Miss Knight, why don't you step outside for a while until you're able to control yourself," Cunningham suggested cruelly.
Miss Knight sagely made no reply but quitted the room. If she lashed out, the other members of the board may side against her. She wished she wasn't involved in an activity as complex as business. It would be so much easier to not work and just do whatever she felt like on that day. She wished she could be on her own, never dependent on any of her fellow workers ever again.
As soon as Emma entered her office, Nancy looked up from her typing. "The meeting is over already?"
"No, I was just dismissed until further notice." Emma nonchalantly brushed a piece of her flipped, reddish brown hair from her face.
"Well, since you are the chairman of the board, I don't think they can come to any important conclusions without you."
"Why do you think I'm not worried?" Even though Emma made this pronouncement, her gorgeous countenance was creased with lines that were obviously not from old age but from stress.
Nancy shook her head as she said, "I think you need a long holiday."
"I cannot possibly go during this dilemma! We may be in the middle of a sellout and you're talking about vacations!" Emma's brown eyes were clouded over with a look of annoyance. "If I don't quit this job soon, there is the serious possibility that I will have a nervous breakdown."
"Then just sell the company! Your father and mother would have cared more about your well-being than this gigantic industry, even if it was Sir John's baby."
Emma walked over to a massive window that covered the entire south wall of her office. Her office was on the seventh story of the building. Miss Knight gazed down at the car park, each vehicle the size of a matchbox from the great height. "I would sell, if only I was certain that Cunningham and his band of merry men weren't criminals."
Emma watched a man place sheaves of paper behind each windshield wiper of the myriad of cars down below. "Nancy," she began slowly, "What is that man doing?"
Miss Young came over to the window to see what her friend and employer was talking about. "I'm not sure, but I'll have a look if you like." Before Emma could answer, she had sped out of the room, her brown high heels clicking on the polished marble floor.
Emma hugged herself, letting the silk of her white blouse rub against her skin. The ruffles on the cuffs and neckline billowed softly with each movement.
As she stood there pondering over her monotonous yet at the same time complicated life, Mr. Lanier called her back into the conference room. After an hour of debating, nothing had been resolved, so the meeting was adjourned. Emma was exhausted after the conference, especially after Cunningham had told her she would regret it if she refused his company's proposal. Lanier civilly offered to escort Miss Knight back to her office. She willingly conceded, and the two made their way down the hall from the committee room to her own workplace.
Emma had forgotten all about the mysterious man in the parking lot until Nancy brought it up. "The man was leaving flier that advertised the opening of the Millbury Castle on each of the cars." Nancy thrust a piece of white paper into Miss Knight's unsuspecting hands.
"'Come to the grand opening of Millbury Castle and take a trip back in time,'" Emma Knight read uninterestedly. "'It's an all-inclusive resort in England's beautiful country. Don't delay; make your reservations today.' I don't see what so special about this hotel," Emma told her friend.
"You need a vacation, and here was this advertisement on your car!" Nancy bubbled over with excitement. "It has to be a sign!"
"What's all this about a holiday?" Lanier asked curiously.
"Emma is in desperate need of some relaxation, so I suggested she take a break from her strenuous job," Nancy Young explained.
"Yes, I quite agree with your secretary, Miss Knight," Lanier exclaimed. "And this castle sounds like an admirable establishment with plenty of activities to occupy you for-let's say-two weeks."
"You really think I should leave my job for that long?" Emma inquired in wonderment.
"I think you need the rest, my dear," Lanier replied in a paternal tone. It seemed the sixty-year-old felt a certain grandfatherly love for the young and beautiful woman.
"If you're all decided against me, I might as well take that holiday," Emma laughed constrainedly. She was so tired from all the pressure that had been placed upon her in the last six months. She knew she should feel complimented that her father thought she had been capable enough to take over his job, but she just felt older and more hassled than she had ever felt in her almost twenty-two years of life.
**************
Dr. David Keel finished the last bite of his lunch just as his next patient came into the office of his surgery, or at least he thought it was a patient. His brown, puppy dog eyes soon noted that it was John Steed, the secret agent, who stood before him. John Steed had the tendency to be rough and malicious with his enemies and gentle and charming with his friends, especially the ladies.
"What seems to be troubling you today, Steed?" queried the doctor.
"What is troubling me are four missing men and no motives," Steed replied. He walked over to the doctor until his six-feet frame towered over Keel. "These murders have been giving me an appalling headache." Steed scrunched up his gentlemanly face and emitted a painful groan.
"Why don't we step into the examining room?" suggested David Keel before ushering his friend into the adjoining chamber. "What have been the symptoms?"
"I've gotten a sharp pain in my left eyelid, which is followed with an excruciating tingling sensation across my forehead."
"No, I meant is there any connections between these disappearances?"
"You certainly have a strange way of putting things!" Mr. Steed responded amicably. "Each victim is a renown businessman with oodles of money. They all are the head representatives of their company, and the same corporation, Putnam's Plastic Co., is trying to buy them all out." Steed perched himself on the stiff examining table and began swinging his long legs back and forth like a young child might do.
"Well, isn't obvious that this plastic business is behind these crimes?" Keel asked, using his sharp mind to help his companion. He seated himself in a black swivel chair.
"Of course, but we still haven't the foggiest what Putnam's men have done with the businessmen or why Putnam's Plastic Co. has suddenly taken an interest in all four companies."
"Obviously Penny feels the other corporations will do his own business good."
Steed's greyish-blue eyes stared into Keel's eyes, as he demanded emphatically, "Have you ever heard of Putnam's Plastic until I told you about it?"
"That's a ridiculous question to ask!" Keel scoffed. "Do you know anyone who's heard of that little company?"
"If the business is so small and private, how can it have enough money to buy out four of the largest corporations in Great Britain?"
Dr. Keel gazed confusedly at the expectant Steed. "There must be something very sinister going on."
"That's what my job is: find the missing businessmen and discover exactly what this plastic company is doing." Hopping down from the table, John Steed stepped over to the doctor. "I need a capable physician in case one I find the kidnapped businessmen and they're injured in any way. Do you think you can get away from your practice for a few weeks?"
"I will have to speak with Carol first." Keel called for his trusty nurse, who immediately obeyed the summons.
The smiling brunette was quickly informed of the plan. She assured Dr. Keel that he had few patients next week, and if it were at all possible, she would try to have them come in today and tomorrow. Then Dr. Keel could meet Steed wherever they were bound.
"Every single businessman had been staying at the Millbury Castle, which has been recently renovated into an elegant and expensive resort. Three of the men were there for conventions with Putnam's Plastic Co., while the other was there just for some leisurely time."
"How can you have a meeting at a castle?" Nurse Carol Wilson asked.
"A palace has many rooms, some of which were actually used as conference rooms in the olden days. The owner of the castle kept these chambers almost exactly as they were centuries ago and rents them out for business executives to use," Steed explained. "Anyway, I was just informed by my superiors that Putnam and his men are trying to talk Sir John Knight into selling out to them."
"Sir John Knight died a few months back," David told Steed. "A relative of his took over the enterprise; I don't remember exactly who it was."
"Well, Putnam and his workers trying to convince Sir John's relative to accept their proposition. So far, he's refused all offers, so I'm supposed to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't suddenly take a trip to Millbury Castle and disappear." Steed exited the examining room and reentered the doctor's office.
"It looks like you will be extremely busy over the next several weeks," David Keel surmised as he and Carol followed Steed. "I'll try to get away from my surgery as soon as possible."
"I'll call you tomorrow if I have to leave London for any reason," Steed called before quitting the building. Little did he realise that he was about to take a very extended trip to Millbury Castle.
**************
Emma Knight sighed wearily as she climbed into her black car. It used to belong to her father, and he had bequeathed it to her in his will along with everything else. Miss Knight really wanted a blue sports car of some sort, but for the time being, Sir John's car would do for her purposes.
She expertly drove out of the parking lot of her office building and down the street, drawing nearer to her penthouse. She would pack her suitcases and then head to the Millbury Castle, where she hopefully would spend two weeks of bliss. She soon arrived at her destination, so she quickly packed before heading out once more.
She sped down one of the main streets of London, barely making it through the first stoplight. As she headed toward the highway, she perceived a brown Rolls Royce turning out of a car park for a ritzy restaurant. It pulled in right behind her, but Emma found nothing peculiar about it. It was only when it followed her on the highway that she became a little curious as to where the car was going. She quickly changed lanes, and the brown auto pursued her.
Emma Knight continued driving for an hour, the brown vehicle trailing behind her every moment. It was after an hour and a half that Emma grew completely suspicious and peeved at the obvious stalker. She decided to exit the public road to take a less known detour. Deftly she pulled in front of a semi-truck, making it impossible for the brown car to follow her. Smiling smugly, Miss Knight made her exit onto the side road. Fortunately, she was able to finish the trip safely.
Miss Emma Knight arrived at the Millbury Castle late at night, exhausted and ravenous. She checked out a room, had the porter place her luggage in it, and then found her way to the grand dining room.
The grand dining room was a large hall with one continuous wooden table, which seated well over fifty guests. It was the place where the guests could mingle with their fellow visitors. On the stone walls were ancient shields with the family seals of more than a few royal lineages. Several authentic chandeliers, complete with real candles, illuminated the massive room.
After a hasty meal, Emma Knight stumbled into her hotel room. She was in desperate need of sleep, and she could feel it in every muscle in her body. Slowly, she slipped into a light pink nightgown before sliding under the covers of her queen size bed. Everything certainly is very royal at this palace; perfect for a Knight, Emma thought as she fell into a deep slumber.
Back in London, John Steed received an extremely urgent call from another spy. "Steed, this is Mike Robinson," came a husky voice over the phone. "I followed Knight this evening, who went directly to Millbury Castle."
"It seems he's going to need immediate protection," Steed mused. "I'll leave for the palace early tomorrow morning."
"All right," Michael began, "and Steed, 'early' does not mean ten o'clock."
"Why, Robinson, you know I always get up at nine!" Steed exclaimed in mock defense. Hanging up the phone, he entered his miniscule bedroom. He really needed to rent a roomier flat, for this restricted apartment was unbearable.
John Steed smiled as he set his alarm for eight o'clock in the morning. He truly would have to force himself to get up that early the next morning. "You need to change your lazy habits, Steed old boy," he told himself.
Steed removed his navy blue suit jacket and unbuttoned his matching vest. Glancing in the looking glass that hung lopsidedly on the wall, he tipped his bowler hat playfully. Suddenly, he shook his head, smiling widely. No, his habits were just perfect for him; he wouldn't change a thing for all the jewels in the royal crown. The only person who could possibly change him was a woman, and she had to be extremely attractive and accomplished . . .
To Be Continued!
A short, thin man in a spotless black suit entered the lobby of a glamorous hotel. He addressed the perky woman behind the desk, "I will be checking out today." The man glanced warily through his tortoise shell glasses at his surroundings.
"Thank you for coming to the Millbury Castle resort," replied the receptionist. "I hope you enjoyed your stay, Mr. Haley."
Mr. Haley barely acknowledged the woman's remark as he wrote out an expensive check. He handed it to the receptionist before calling a bellhop to help him with his luggage. The porter placed all of Haley's baggage on a cart except for a black briefcase that the businessman clutched tightly to his chest.
As Haley was leaving the castle that had been renovated into a hotel, a voice cried out, "I say, Haley, I haven't seen you in quite some time!"
Mr. Haley looked about himself until he discovered the owner of the voice. It appeared to be an old friend from his army days, Colonel Fitzgibbon. "Fancy meeting you here," Fitzgibbon added as he extended his arm for a handshake. "You've always been the relentless businessman, never taking holidays."
"Well, that's how I became one of the wealthiest men in this part of the country," Haley promptly retorted. "And I wasn't taking a vacation; I was here on a business transaction. Somebody wanted to buy my company from me, but I refuse to sell out to anyone or anybody." Mr. Haley spoke loudly now, as if he wanted a certain person to hear him. He nervously set his briefcase down on the stone floor.
A man concealed in the shadows of a suit of armour glared menacingly at the Haley's declaration. As Haley bid adieu to his old acquaintance, the man who had been hidden followed him out the door. Just as Haley was about to cross the car park to his automobile, the stranger called, "You shouldn't have refused our offer, Mr. Haley. You will live to regret it."
"Your price was too low for an expanding corporation like mine," Haley scoffed.
"Just the same, you have made a grave error," the man responded icily.
Haley hopped into his car and drove off down the castle's privately owned, dirt road. The stranger remained on the gravel parking lot, his lips a thin line.
Colonel Fitzgibbon rushed out of the castle with Haley's briefcase. "Come back; you've forgotten this!" he bellowed to the open space where Haley's car previously was parked. He jumped into his own vehicle and took off after his friend. Colonel Fitzgibbon drove more than ten miles over the speed limit in order to catch up with Haley. After three minutes of speeding, Fitzgibbon realised with alarm that he should have caught up with Haley by now.
He scrambled out of his automobile to examine the area. Bordering the beaten dirt road were large cattails and other undergrowth. Straight ahead of Fitzgibbon was the end of the dirt path that led into the main roads of the village of Millbury. Suddenly an inspiration came upon him as quick and as bright as lightening. He pushed his way into the brushes and cattails, farther and farther into the unknown. Finally, the Colonel saw what he had feared: Haley's car deserted in the high grass. There was no sign of life anywhere, nothing that would indicate that anyone had been there recently, not even a set of footprints. Yet there was Haley's car, the luggage still piled neatly in the backseat.
Fitzgibbon returned to his car only to discover that Haley's suitcase, which he had left so carelessly on the front seat of his Mercedes Benz, had been stolen.
The Last Resort
Steed Takes a Holiday
Emma Falls for a Stranger
First Day
Emma Knight was the no-nonsense businesswoman who had managed to become the chairman of the board and managing director of her business at the age of twenty-one. This would have seemed an even greater accomplishment if it weren't for the fact that her father had left her in charge of the corporation when he had died six months ago. Miss Knight, the intellectual woman with an I.Q. of 145, ran the business with an iron fist, to use an expression.
It could appear to the outside that she was a tyrant, but Emma had to lay down certain rules or all the men who worked under her wouldn't respect her. It was, after all, 1961, a year when women's rights were still talked about in subtle tones and mostly in the homes. All the workers, with the exception of the several female secretaries, found it insulting to be working under a woman. The few men above Emma in power found it quite amusing.
Perhaps that was why Professor Keller had decided to disobey orders and had been discharged. Maybe he had a difficult time submitting to the rules and ideas of a very emancipated woman. Whatever the case, Emma Knight had earned the reputation of being the stiff and detached boss whom no one ever messed with.
If people had truly known her, they would have realised she was sassy, sexy, and incredibly amiable. They would have seen that Emma had a penchant for art, sewing, science, and her favourites: kung fu and karate. She was not biting and sour like whiskey but cool and mellow like her preferred drink, champagne.
It was when she was misunderstood that Emma thought the most about her father Sir John Knight. She vividly recalled the afternoons they would spend together, horseback riding or just reading the latest edition of their subscribed science digest.
It had always been a custom of theirs to try a new hobby every month. If Emma had no desire for the certain hobby, she could give it up. If she liked one well enough, she could continue it for as long as she liked. Being well to do certainly was convenient at times. Emma only remembered several activities that were unsatisfactory in her eyes. One was ballet, while the other was professional singing. True, the ballet training had been important when she was developing her kung fu skills, and she did enjoy singing, but the hobbies had just been too strenuous for the young and thrill-seeking woman.
Miss Knight often wondered why she relished chopping wooden blocks and bricks apart over practising music scales. She didn't consider herself a tomboy by any means, but maybe deep inside she really was. Or maybe she felt so confined by the duties of a wealthy man's daughter and the duties of the chairman of a huge corporation that she just had to find excitement somewhere. And fighting an opponent was an exhilarating ordeal for her. Perhaps in the future she could put her excellent karate and kung fu skills to a good and productive purpose . . .
On that fateful Monday when she entered her spacious office, Emma was somewhat annoyed at the behaviour of her employees. The workers had been talking blithely with each other until she stepped into the lift, and then an uncomfortable silence fell over them all. Miss Knight had long given up trying to start a friendly conversation with anyone, for as soon as she broke down the barriers she was asked on dates by every available man in the vicinity. The only worker she could be chummy with was Nancy Young, the black haired personal secretary to Miss Knight.
"Hello, Emma, how are you today?" asked Nancy. When she received no response, she demanded, "Are you feeling ill?"
"Have you ever known me to be unwell?" Emma seated herself in her desk chair, crossing her legs sexily at the ankles. She smoothed her black leather skirt, which stopped several inches above her knees.
"You have a board meeting at nine o'clock this morning," Nancy reminded her. "Oh, and your horoscope says that this week you will bump into a tall, dark, and handsome stranger."
Emma smirked amusedly as she replied, "You know I don't believe in horoscopes."
"Well, perhaps it will come true today, though!" Nancy protested.
Emma marched over to the desk and opened Nancy's desk drawer. There were more than twenty issues of old horoscope magazines from previous years. Emma Knight flipped to the summer edition of last year and opened to a marked page. Smiling superiorly, she pointed at her fortune from the previous year. "'You will meet a tall stranger in a trench coat,'" Emma read.
"All right, so it said the same thing two years in a row; maybe it's trying to tell you something."
"It's trying to tell you that you need a new hobby." Emma gathered her papers for the meeting together before entering the committee room.
Her peers greeted her quite cordially as she seated herself in her appointed chair. "I suppose you know Mr. Cunningham, Miss Knight?" asked Lanier, the chief executive.
Emma surveyed Cunningham, a blond man with the piercing green eyes and sneering visage. She took an immediate dislike to the man of thirty odd years of age. "How do you do?" she asked as politely as she could muster.
"As you know, Mr. Cunningham wants to buy this company for a rather reasonable price," Lanier continued.
"I think it would be in your best interest to buy, before we change our minds," Mr. Cunningham began rather threateningly.
"This was my father's brainchild, something he worked at for years. As you may know, he just died several months ago. I'm not ready to let go of this corporation," Emma retorted.
"Don't let your feminine sentiments mingle with your economics," Lanier warned.
"I just don't think the deal is that fair," Emma insisted. She was being treated inferiorly again, something that aggravated her.
"Miss Knight, why don't you step outside for a while until you're able to control yourself," Cunningham suggested cruelly.
Miss Knight sagely made no reply but quitted the room. If she lashed out, the other members of the board may side against her. She wished she wasn't involved in an activity as complex as business. It would be so much easier to not work and just do whatever she felt like on that day. She wished she could be on her own, never dependent on any of her fellow workers ever again.
As soon as Emma entered her office, Nancy looked up from her typing. "The meeting is over already?"
"No, I was just dismissed until further notice." Emma nonchalantly brushed a piece of her flipped, reddish brown hair from her face.
"Well, since you are the chairman of the board, I don't think they can come to any important conclusions without you."
"Why do you think I'm not worried?" Even though Emma made this pronouncement, her gorgeous countenance was creased with lines that were obviously not from old age but from stress.
Nancy shook her head as she said, "I think you need a long holiday."
"I cannot possibly go during this dilemma! We may be in the middle of a sellout and you're talking about vacations!" Emma's brown eyes were clouded over with a look of annoyance. "If I don't quit this job soon, there is the serious possibility that I will have a nervous breakdown."
"Then just sell the company! Your father and mother would have cared more about your well-being than this gigantic industry, even if it was Sir John's baby."
Emma walked over to a massive window that covered the entire south wall of her office. Her office was on the seventh story of the building. Miss Knight gazed down at the car park, each vehicle the size of a matchbox from the great height. "I would sell, if only I was certain that Cunningham and his band of merry men weren't criminals."
Emma watched a man place sheaves of paper behind each windshield wiper of the myriad of cars down below. "Nancy," she began slowly, "What is that man doing?"
Miss Young came over to the window to see what her friend and employer was talking about. "I'm not sure, but I'll have a look if you like." Before Emma could answer, she had sped out of the room, her brown high heels clicking on the polished marble floor.
Emma hugged herself, letting the silk of her white blouse rub against her skin. The ruffles on the cuffs and neckline billowed softly with each movement.
As she stood there pondering over her monotonous yet at the same time complicated life, Mr. Lanier called her back into the conference room. After an hour of debating, nothing had been resolved, so the meeting was adjourned. Emma was exhausted after the conference, especially after Cunningham had told her she would regret it if she refused his company's proposal. Lanier civilly offered to escort Miss Knight back to her office. She willingly conceded, and the two made their way down the hall from the committee room to her own workplace.
Emma had forgotten all about the mysterious man in the parking lot until Nancy brought it up. "The man was leaving flier that advertised the opening of the Millbury Castle on each of the cars." Nancy thrust a piece of white paper into Miss Knight's unsuspecting hands.
"'Come to the grand opening of Millbury Castle and take a trip back in time,'" Emma Knight read uninterestedly. "'It's an all-inclusive resort in England's beautiful country. Don't delay; make your reservations today.' I don't see what so special about this hotel," Emma told her friend.
"You need a vacation, and here was this advertisement on your car!" Nancy bubbled over with excitement. "It has to be a sign!"
"What's all this about a holiday?" Lanier asked curiously.
"Emma is in desperate need of some relaxation, so I suggested she take a break from her strenuous job," Nancy Young explained.
"Yes, I quite agree with your secretary, Miss Knight," Lanier exclaimed. "And this castle sounds like an admirable establishment with plenty of activities to occupy you for-let's say-two weeks."
"You really think I should leave my job for that long?" Emma inquired in wonderment.
"I think you need the rest, my dear," Lanier replied in a paternal tone. It seemed the sixty-year-old felt a certain grandfatherly love for the young and beautiful woman.
"If you're all decided against me, I might as well take that holiday," Emma laughed constrainedly. She was so tired from all the pressure that had been placed upon her in the last six months. She knew she should feel complimented that her father thought she had been capable enough to take over his job, but she just felt older and more hassled than she had ever felt in her almost twenty-two years of life.
**************
Dr. David Keel finished the last bite of his lunch just as his next patient came into the office of his surgery, or at least he thought it was a patient. His brown, puppy dog eyes soon noted that it was John Steed, the secret agent, who stood before him. John Steed had the tendency to be rough and malicious with his enemies and gentle and charming with his friends, especially the ladies.
"What seems to be troubling you today, Steed?" queried the doctor.
"What is troubling me are four missing men and no motives," Steed replied. He walked over to the doctor until his six-feet frame towered over Keel. "These murders have been giving me an appalling headache." Steed scrunched up his gentlemanly face and emitted a painful groan.
"Why don't we step into the examining room?" suggested David Keel before ushering his friend into the adjoining chamber. "What have been the symptoms?"
"I've gotten a sharp pain in my left eyelid, which is followed with an excruciating tingling sensation across my forehead."
"No, I meant is there any connections between these disappearances?"
"You certainly have a strange way of putting things!" Mr. Steed responded amicably. "Each victim is a renown businessman with oodles of money. They all are the head representatives of their company, and the same corporation, Putnam's Plastic Co., is trying to buy them all out." Steed perched himself on the stiff examining table and began swinging his long legs back and forth like a young child might do.
"Well, isn't obvious that this plastic business is behind these crimes?" Keel asked, using his sharp mind to help his companion. He seated himself in a black swivel chair.
"Of course, but we still haven't the foggiest what Putnam's men have done with the businessmen or why Putnam's Plastic Co. has suddenly taken an interest in all four companies."
"Obviously Penny feels the other corporations will do his own business good."
Steed's greyish-blue eyes stared into Keel's eyes, as he demanded emphatically, "Have you ever heard of Putnam's Plastic until I told you about it?"
"That's a ridiculous question to ask!" Keel scoffed. "Do you know anyone who's heard of that little company?"
"If the business is so small and private, how can it have enough money to buy out four of the largest corporations in Great Britain?"
Dr. Keel gazed confusedly at the expectant Steed. "There must be something very sinister going on."
"That's what my job is: find the missing businessmen and discover exactly what this plastic company is doing." Hopping down from the table, John Steed stepped over to the doctor. "I need a capable physician in case one I find the kidnapped businessmen and they're injured in any way. Do you think you can get away from your practice for a few weeks?"
"I will have to speak with Carol first." Keel called for his trusty nurse, who immediately obeyed the summons.
The smiling brunette was quickly informed of the plan. She assured Dr. Keel that he had few patients next week, and if it were at all possible, she would try to have them come in today and tomorrow. Then Dr. Keel could meet Steed wherever they were bound.
"Every single businessman had been staying at the Millbury Castle, which has been recently renovated into an elegant and expensive resort. Three of the men were there for conventions with Putnam's Plastic Co., while the other was there just for some leisurely time."
"How can you have a meeting at a castle?" Nurse Carol Wilson asked.
"A palace has many rooms, some of which were actually used as conference rooms in the olden days. The owner of the castle kept these chambers almost exactly as they were centuries ago and rents them out for business executives to use," Steed explained. "Anyway, I was just informed by my superiors that Putnam and his men are trying to talk Sir John Knight into selling out to them."
"Sir John Knight died a few months back," David told Steed. "A relative of his took over the enterprise; I don't remember exactly who it was."
"Well, Putnam and his workers trying to convince Sir John's relative to accept their proposition. So far, he's refused all offers, so I'm supposed to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't suddenly take a trip to Millbury Castle and disappear." Steed exited the examining room and reentered the doctor's office.
"It looks like you will be extremely busy over the next several weeks," David Keel surmised as he and Carol followed Steed. "I'll try to get away from my surgery as soon as possible."
"I'll call you tomorrow if I have to leave London for any reason," Steed called before quitting the building. Little did he realise that he was about to take a very extended trip to Millbury Castle.
**************
Emma Knight sighed wearily as she climbed into her black car. It used to belong to her father, and he had bequeathed it to her in his will along with everything else. Miss Knight really wanted a blue sports car of some sort, but for the time being, Sir John's car would do for her purposes.
She expertly drove out of the parking lot of her office building and down the street, drawing nearer to her penthouse. She would pack her suitcases and then head to the Millbury Castle, where she hopefully would spend two weeks of bliss. She soon arrived at her destination, so she quickly packed before heading out once more.
She sped down one of the main streets of London, barely making it through the first stoplight. As she headed toward the highway, she perceived a brown Rolls Royce turning out of a car park for a ritzy restaurant. It pulled in right behind her, but Emma found nothing peculiar about it. It was only when it followed her on the highway that she became a little curious as to where the car was going. She quickly changed lanes, and the brown auto pursued her.
Emma Knight continued driving for an hour, the brown vehicle trailing behind her every moment. It was after an hour and a half that Emma grew completely suspicious and peeved at the obvious stalker. She decided to exit the public road to take a less known detour. Deftly she pulled in front of a semi-truck, making it impossible for the brown car to follow her. Smiling smugly, Miss Knight made her exit onto the side road. Fortunately, she was able to finish the trip safely.
Miss Emma Knight arrived at the Millbury Castle late at night, exhausted and ravenous. She checked out a room, had the porter place her luggage in it, and then found her way to the grand dining room.
The grand dining room was a large hall with one continuous wooden table, which seated well over fifty guests. It was the place where the guests could mingle with their fellow visitors. On the stone walls were ancient shields with the family seals of more than a few royal lineages. Several authentic chandeliers, complete with real candles, illuminated the massive room.
After a hasty meal, Emma Knight stumbled into her hotel room. She was in desperate need of sleep, and she could feel it in every muscle in her body. Slowly, she slipped into a light pink nightgown before sliding under the covers of her queen size bed. Everything certainly is very royal at this palace; perfect for a Knight, Emma thought as she fell into a deep slumber.
Back in London, John Steed received an extremely urgent call from another spy. "Steed, this is Mike Robinson," came a husky voice over the phone. "I followed Knight this evening, who went directly to Millbury Castle."
"It seems he's going to need immediate protection," Steed mused. "I'll leave for the palace early tomorrow morning."
"All right," Michael began, "and Steed, 'early' does not mean ten o'clock."
"Why, Robinson, you know I always get up at nine!" Steed exclaimed in mock defense. Hanging up the phone, he entered his miniscule bedroom. He really needed to rent a roomier flat, for this restricted apartment was unbearable.
John Steed smiled as he set his alarm for eight o'clock in the morning. He truly would have to force himself to get up that early the next morning. "You need to change your lazy habits, Steed old boy," he told himself.
Steed removed his navy blue suit jacket and unbuttoned his matching vest. Glancing in the looking glass that hung lopsidedly on the wall, he tipped his bowler hat playfully. Suddenly, he shook his head, smiling widely. No, his habits were just perfect for him; he wouldn't change a thing for all the jewels in the royal crown. The only person who could possibly change him was a woman, and she had to be extremely attractive and accomplished . . .
To Be Continued!