Chapter 3

"There it is," Steed said with a flourish. "The Beryl of Munkiz."

Emma stood next to him as they admired the brilliant green gem mounted in a glass case atop a stone pedestal.

"Hard to say that name without laughing," she said.

"It suffers in the translation from Munkizian." Steed was impeccably dressed in a light-gray Cardin suit and his trademark bowler. Mrs. Peel looked like a dangerous weapon at his side, wearing zip-up black leather from her neck to her ankles. Steed mused that they usually seemed to end up attired this way—him dressed for diplomacy, her for action.

She wasn't wearing her heavy motorcycling leathers tonight, but something thinner and more lightweight, in a clingy bodysuit that was easier to move in. It was also, consequently, a bit more revealing.

"No need to worry," Steed said as he eyed her outfit. "The Ambassador from Munkiz won't be here."

Emma caught his glance. "What's the point in wearing a blouse and skirt if the baddies show up?" she said. "Best to be prepared."

Steed walked towards the gem. "No problem there. Anything tries to get too close to the emerald, and..."

He swung his umbrella through the air a few feet in front of the display case. Emma was startled as heavy steel doors slammed shut at the entrance to the room.

Steed grinned. "Just to be safe, most of the electric eyes have been lowered to Corgi-height. We're not taking any chances of having something sneak in under the radar."

Emma squinted at the case. "I can't see anything."

"The beams are infrared. The Armourer tells me they should be invisible to a Battle Corgi's sensors," Steed explained. "Anything breaks the circuit, and it seals the display room, trapping any mechanoids inside."

"Couldn't they just blast their way out?"

Steed patted the thick metal doors. "These should withstand any blast a Battle Corgi would be likely to dish out. We're working on the assumption that they're not going to be carrying enough munitions to bring down the whole building. It wouldn't be any use to them if they had to sift through rubble to find the emerald." He inserted a key into a wall socket to open the doors. "Besides, If we manage to separate the mechanoids from the German Shepherd that controls them, they'll just wander about aimlessly, or even self-destruct."

"You certainly have this all figured out," Emma said. "Why not just lock the jewel in a vault?"

"And have it look like Britain can't even guarantee the security of the embassies here? We'd be a laughingstock."

"Better than the international incident caused if the emerald is stolen."

He straightened his bowler. "That's what were here to prevent. Feel up to the task?"

Emma circled the display pedestal at a distance, moving with catlike grace, careful to avoid the electric eyes.

"It certainly is exposed," she mused.

"The Prince likes to parade visitors around to show off. You know, the whole 'The rocks from my country are prettier than the rocks from your country' sort of thing."

"Something about the set-up makes me uncomfortable," Emma frowned. "But I suppose it should be enough. Are there still some sensors positioned up high, in case Brodny makes a try for the jewel himself?"

Steed nodded. "Two or three. Even Brodny shouldn't be able to contort enough to pass through undetected."

Emma picked out a hiding place behind a large potted plant that had an unobstructed view of both the entrance and the display case. "We'll set up here," she announced. She crouched down next to the wall and pulled out a walkie-talkie to speak to the guard at the main gate.

Of course, the communication device had been generously provided by the head guard the instant he met Emma. One glimpse of her in the tight catsuit, and he fell all over himself to make sure they could stay in constant contact. Steed wondered if Mrs. Peel was even aware of how sexy she looked in the outfit.

It wasn't just her leathers; it was the way her body fit into them. One time, while escaping from a lift shaft, a narrow scrape had caused a tear across the front of her suit, revealing a suprising amount of bare skin. Steed couldn't help but stare wide-eyed. Mrs. Peel had demurely covered herself with one arm while explaining that she never wore a brassiere under her leathers; she found it too confining in case she needed to fight. Steed had smiled pleasantly and said, "Of course!", giving her his jacket to cover up.

But secretly ever since, whenever she dressed in her action gear, he always took the time to admire her perfect breasts in their natural, unrestrained state. The delightful way they canted slightly outward, their rhythmic jounce when she walked, the firm tips that appeared through the leather when she was angry or excited. Steed cast her a sideways glance. She was definitely excited now.

A loud burst of static interrupted his reverie. Emma pressed the receiver to her ear, listening to a message.

"Brodny is at the gate and he has a small dog with him," she announced. "It must be a Battle Corgi!"

"Just one shouldn't be much of a problem," Steed answered in a low voice. "The Armourer gave me this."

He pulled out a cylinder that looked like a flashlight. "The beam from this should temporarily incapacitate the circuits of any mechanoid as long as it stays pointed at it. Just aim and press this button."

"Here comes Brodny!" Emma whispered harshly. She flattened against the wall next to Steed.

Ambassador Brodny had entered the foyer with a small dog on a leash. He seemed at a loss about what to do next. He scanned the various hallways, apparently looking for a landmark. The dog paced impatiently, as if annoyed with his master.

"It's hard to tell which one of them is smarter," Emma smirked.

Brodny tried to walk down the wrong hall, away from the gem. The dog pulled insistently in the other direction.

"I guess that answers the question," Steed grinned. "Let's see if this little gizmo works." He aimed the device at the intruders and pressed the button. The dog seemed unaffected, continuing to lead Brodny towards the gem's display area.

Steed wrinkled his mouth. "Never rely on gadgets."

Emma squinted in the darkness "Wait! That's not a Battle Corgi," she said. "It's... it's Asti Spumante!"

"Spumi?" Steed poked his head out for a better view. "That explains why the device failed."

Brodny crouched down next to the terrier and unhooked the leash. "Time to go to work now, little sobaka!" he urged.

The terrier trotted over to a spot only a few feet from where Steed and Mrs. Peel were hiding. They could see that a metal circlet rested over the dog's ears. Brodny set a small box on the floor, extended an antenna from it, and started talking into his lapel.

"What's Spumi wearing?" Emma asked, puzzled. "Something for the robbery?"

Brodny pulled a strange rubber and glass contraption from his inner jacket pocket. He called the terrier over and attached it around the dog's head. It was a pair of goggles.

"Even more gear," Steed whispered. "He looks like Snoopy chasing the Red Baron."

Brodny turned and walked back to the front of the building, leaving the dog unattended.

Emma furrowed her brow. "Where's he going?"

"Probably to fulfill his meeting with the Ambassador of Munkiz, to keep his cover. He has immunity, so we can't do anything to him, anyway. Try calling Spumante over here."

Emma made some clicking noises with her mouth. The terrier ignored her.

She shrugged. "He won't obey."

"Maybe they've brainwashed him."

"What do you mean? He doesn't obey me half the time, even without being brainwashed."

Steed said, "Regardless, how much damage could one dog do?"

Emma snapped her fingers. "The goggles. They must detect infrared. Spumi's going to use them to see the alarm beams." She started to move out from her hiding place. "He's going to try to steal the emerald."

But the terrier was moving in the opposite direction from the gem. He trotted over to the ventilator grille and pressed a lever with his paw. The grate swung open.

With a loud scuffling sound, more than a dozen small dogs swarmed out of the air shaft. From the glowing red eyes to the short legs and low bodies, there could be no mistaking that these were Battle Corgis.

"Oh, that little traitor!" Emma hissed. "He really is working for the enemy!"

Steed nodded thoughtfully. "The only part of the scheme that required Brodny was getting the live dog into the embassy—the command-and-control sabotage dog. The mechanoids could have been smuggled in at any time, in a deactivated state."

"Spumante, a command-and-control dog?" Emma asked incredulously. "And how could they smuggle in that many Battle Corgis?"

"In the janitor's van, disguised as dust mops?"

"Well, I'm putting a stop to this," she proclaimed as she once more started to emerge from hiding.

"Wait!" Steed touched her arm. "If we don't interfere until they're all inside, they'll be trapped when they break the alarm beams. That way, we won't have to confront any of their weapons."

"That assumes they break the alarm beams."

"They have to, unless Spumi does his 'Flying Dog' act again."

Emma frowned. "You don't think..."

They both watched dumbfounded as four corgi mechanoids lined up in a row in front of the electric eyes. Three more mounted on top of those, then two more on the very top to form a ramp.

"They're making a human pyramid?" Emma ventured.

"More like a dogpile-amid," Steed corrected.

Spumante ran up onto the pile and leaped off the top with an acrobatic flip, missing all of the electric eyes. One by one, several Corgis followed exactly in his footsteps.

"I've seen enough!" Emma cried. "It's time to protect the emerald." She ran towards the gem. A Battle Corgi came out to challenge her.

"Careful, Mrs. Peel!" Steed warned.

Telescopic metal rods extended from the dog's flanks and crackled with electricity. Three more Corgis lined up behind the first, in case she had any ideas about jumping over the mechanoid. The entire column started advancing on her.

Emma was forced to retreat, when suddenly the attacking mechanoid stopped moving. She turned her head and saw that Steed had pointed the neutralizing device at it.

Spumante barked a command to the Corgis that had accompanied him over the alarm beams. Each one of them went to a corner of the display pedestal and dropped a tiny explosive pack. There was a series of muffled explosions, and the pedestal toppled to the floor with a crash of breaking glass. The terrier trotted gingerly through the shards and picked up the emerald in his mouth.

"Oh, no you don't!" Emma picked up the immobilized Corgi in front of her and tossed it toward the display case, hoping to trigger the electric eyes and seal the thieves in. But she had forgotten that the sensors had been repositioned to Corgi-height; her aim was too high, and the hurled mechanoid missed the alarm beams entirely. Instead, the dog rotated once in mid-air (didn't she remember seeing an internal gyroscope in the Armourer's plans?) before landing on its feet like a cat.

"They haven't used any smoke canisters yet," Steed said. "Why not?"

"Someone must need to see," Emma shouted. "That box that Brodny set on the floor might be a camera to help with the robbery."

Steed quickly kicked the box away, breaking its antenna, but it was already too late. The dog pack was now trying to make its getaway. A row of Corgis once again advanced on Emma. The fur-covered doors in their shoulders popped open as their weapons deployed.

"Head for cover, Mrs. Peel!" Steed ran in front of her and lowered his bowler into the line of fire. Mini-darts ricocheted off its steel dome, pinging like an alarm bell.

"Smoke!" Steed warned as the air was suddenly filled with chemical droplets. Emma nimbly somersaulted for cover behind the potted plant. Steed joined her, using his bowler to fan away the vapor.

"This is starting to look a bit like a war zone," he commented. Darts peppered the walls to either side of them.

"We're pinned down," Emma said.

Through the smoke, all they could see were the glowing red eyes of the Battle Corgis. Then Spumante appeared, carrying the emerald in his mouth.

Emma narrowed her eyes. "He's taunting us."

Steed aimed the neutralizer device at the red eyes in the smoke. The pack must have converted into "escape" mode; the dogs fled from the beam, and the one mechanoid he managed to hit rolled over and exploded. The entire group galloped out of the display room, towards the front of the embassy.

"Come on," Steed said. "We should at least try to get a description of the getaway van." He grabbed Emma by the hand and had already started to pull before he realized she wasn't following.

"I-I didn't think they could penetrate the leather...," she said.

"What happened?" Steed knelt next to her in concern.

"My leg must have been hit by an anesthetic dart. It's gone numb. I can't stand or walk," she said. "You go on without me."

"Nonsense, Mrs. Peel." Steed picked up the walkie-talkie and alerted the guard at the gate to stop any exiting vehicles. Then he scooped up Emma in his arms.

"Ready to go?" he asked cockily.

Emma wrapped her arms tightly around his neck with her lips close to his ear.

"Mmm," she purred. "It was almost worth taking a dart in the leg to have you carry me like a princess."

-oOo-

Steed set Emma gently down on his Regency sofa.

She let out a deep sigh. "That didn't go very well."

"Look at the bright side—if 'robotic corgi tossing' ever becomes an Olympic event, you've qualified."

"Bring me a sweater and a scarf," she commanded.

"Planning on accessorizing?"

"For treatment."

Steed went off to his bedroom and rummaged around for a few moments before returning with a turtleneck and a silk scarf.

"If the numbness has already spread, it's a bit late for a tourniquet," he advised.

"The scarf's not for me." Emma pulled his head lower until his face was only inches from hers. Then she tied the scarf over his eyes to blindfold him.

"And... this is for?"

"I'll have to remove my leathers to expose the dart site, and without being able to bend my right leg, I can only get them down to my waist. You'll have to pull them off the rest of the way." Emma intertwined her fingers with his and led his hands towards her body.

"But suppose I accidentally touch you somewhere indiscreet?"

Her wry smile was echoed in her voice. "I guess that's a chance I'll have to take."

Steed heard a long, slow zip. The sound was intensely erotic. Then he picked up the crinkling of leather being pulled over skin. His imagination ran wild. Not being able to see had enhanced his other senses.

He recalled from earlier that she probably wasn't wearing a bra under her leathers. Could she be topless right now? Emma guided his hands down her sides, and his guess was confirmed; there was no fabric, only warm flesh and the slight swell where her breasts began.

She fastened his fingers onto the soft leather gathered at her waist. Now he understood the reason for the blindfold; it took a fair amount of effort to wrangle the suit past her hips. It was impossible for him not to make contact with her lingerie. His sense of touch had been magnified so that he could easily tell her panties weren't made of silk, but rather a thin nylon material that she must wear for exercise. They felt slightly damp at the waist—were they clinging? Perhaps even transparent? Surely, she must have known what exquisite torture this was for him...

Steed felt tiny bumps rise on her legs as he worked the leather down to her ankles. Did his fingertips excite her, or was this just a thermal reaction of moist, exposed skin? He breathed in her scent that was heady, musky, and laced with pheromones. How much more of this could he take?

Steed smirked, "Aren't you afraid I might take advantage of you in your immobile state?"

"Oh, if only that were true," she teased back. He heard her pull the sweater on over her head.

"You can look now."

Steed removed the blindfold. Emma sat on the couch with both legs dangling over the side. She wore only the turtleneck, which she had tugged down so that it resembled a minidress. He knelt at her feet to examine her bare thigh. There were two tiny red welts, like bee stings.

"You were hit twice. Must have been rapid-fire. How does it feel?"

"Like my thigh's been to the dentist." She gave him an innocent smile. "As tempting as the idea may be, I can't have you carry me around everywhere like Snow White. Perhaps if you massage it?"

Steed's eyes lit up. "Gladly, Mrs. Peel." He took the spot next to her on the sofa.

Emma reclined on the Regency and propped her legs across his lap, tucking the sweater between her legs for modesty's sake. Steed began briskly rubbing her thigh. She let out a chirp of both surprise and pleasure at his skill.

"I'm sure Spumante was being controlled," she began.

"Brainwashed?" Steed asked. "Or some kind of crash course in obedience training?"

"Remember the box on the floor we thought might be a camera?" Emma mused. "Perhaps it wasn't just to watch the robbery in progress. Maybe someone was feeding Spumi commands directly, as events happened."

"How would they do that? An ultrasonic whistle?"

Emma was clearly impressed by Steed's insight. She gave him a nod of admiration before continuing. "Actually, I think it had something to do with that metal circlet we saw on Spumante's head, before Brodny put the goggles on him."

Steed's fingertips traced a delicate pattern on her thigh.

"Any sensation coming back?" he asked.

She looked at him slyly. "I'm definitely feeling something."

They were interrupted by the phone. Steed answered the call and talked in hushed tones for several minutes while Emma stood and tried to walk around the room. Her efforts were ragged at best. Steed hung up the phone just as she collapsed into his arms with an embarrassed laugh.

"I think I need more massage," she said.

"I was hoping you'd say that." He resumed his place next to her on the couch. "A ransom has been demanded for the emerald."

"That was fast."

"It saves the thieves the trouble of finding a fence," Steed mused. "The Ministry's going to pay. They said they couldn't afford the international incident."

"That money will be going straight into the hands of the baddies," Emma said. "I guess my fan club is in danger of disbanding."

"The thieves have requested that the exchange take place at the dog show this weekend."

"What?"

"They wanted a public place so there would be no 'funny business.'"

"No funny business?" she snorted. "They'll probably have the place swarming with Battle Corgis. Command-and-control dogs as well."

Steed shrugged. "Do you know anything about dog shows?"

"Technically, it's a conformation show."

"So that's a yes. Do you know anything about English Setters?"

"English Setter... Originally known as a setting spaniel, but later changed to setter. First bred by Edward Laverack in the mid-1800's. He wrote a book called The Setter that is the definitive guide on the breed. The modern show-type of English Setter is frequently referred to as the Laverack-type."

Steed grinned. "I would call you a smarty-pants, but you're not wearing any." He continued to rub her bare thigh. "The Ministry's arranged for you to have a show dog. An English Setter."

"I guess that'll have to do," Emma said. "The one time that terror of a terrier could help us out, and he's defected to the other side."

"Not necessarily. Maybe Spumi's just pretending like they're controlling him. He could be working undercover, like you did at Canary Roe."

"You give him too much credit. He's just a dog."

"He did get away with a priceless emerald," Steed teased.

Emma wrinkled her mouth. "Fortunately for you, I've handled dogs at a conformation show before."

"Ah, yes; but do you know how to strut?"

Emma rose from the couch. This time her leg was more stable. She paced slowly from one end of the room to the other in the turtleneck minidress, then spun on her heel and returned. Her stride was regal, commanding.

Steed gave her a crooked smile. "Your pedigree is showing."

"Oh?" She flirtatiously put her hand on her hip.

"I'd vote you Best in Show," he declared. "Looks like your leg is back in working order."

Emma walked over to the liquor cart and picked up the glowing green vial of ThinkFast neuroaccelerator she had brought back from Brindleshire.

"Do you think the baddies will have Spumi there?" she asked.

"It's entirely possible. Why?"

"We should take this drug with us."

"I thought you didn't believe in that," Steed said.

"I'm thinking about that circlet Spumante had around his head," Emma pondered. "Do you suppose it could be some type of neural interface? It would eliminate the need for thousands of hours of training. You could even command a dog to react to events right as they happen."

"An interesting theory."

"That's where this comes in," she continued, shaking the bottle of neuroaccelerator. "It might change Spumante's brain patterns enough to make it impossible to synchronize, breaking their control over him."

"Elementary, but how do you get him to take it?"

"Dr. Cephalus said it was addictive. Spumi will feel a compulsion to drink it, even if he's ordered not to."

Emma leaned on her elbows against the liquor cart, lost in thought. She was unaware that bending over this way had caused the turtleneck sweater to ride up on her legs, exposing her lingerie. Steed stared wide-eyed. White nylon, just as he has suspected. She suddenly sensed his attention and followed his gaze below her waist.

"I think I've fully recovered," she said wryly.

The last thing he saw was Emma's smirk as she re-tied the scarf over his eyes. Then he had to sit there and listen to the achingly provocative sound of her slipping back into her leathers and fastening the zipper.

-oOo-