Anew

by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, John Steed, and Thomas McKay. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended

Timeline: First in a series. Takes place in late December, 1975, a full four months before the start of the series in April, 1976. It is strongly recommended that you go back and read the previous story in the arc, Lost Boys. I know I say this every time, but in this case there really are quite a few connections between the events of that fic and this one in terms of character interaction, so if you haven't read it, or haven't read it in awhile, it probably won't hurt to give it a read to refresh your memory. Those interested in the rest of the series are, of course, invited to read the subsequent stories in the arc, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit, Brazil, and Life on Mars.

For more information about the series, please see my profile.

Author's Note: Yes, I know it's a shorter chapter this time out, but there wasn't a good place to break the action farther along. Will try to remedy that next time out. Not in the editing groove at the moment.

Purdey crept warily into the alleyway, eyes and ears alert for any sound echoing through the crisp winter air. It was a moonless night, and her torch cast all sorts of ominous shadows on the walls. She suppressed a shudder and tried to convince herself it was the fault of the cold and not her nerves. She had taken Steed's advice, after all, and kept things light, dressing in a pair of blue culottes, black sleeveless shirt, blue waistlength jacket, and black calf-high leather boots. Maybe not the warmest in winter gear, but she didn't plan on hanging about outside all night. Not if Steed and Gambit hurried up, at any rate. Purdey straightened her shoulders let out a long breath. If she was going to make a go in this profession, she was going to have to get used to this sort of thing. Skulking around dark places was practically a course in becoming an agent. The sooner she got control of her nerves, the better. She panned her torch over the back entrance to Wollerton's building and pondered how they were going to get past the second lock after they used her key.

"Come here often?" The voice was close to her right ear, and took her totally by surprise. She whirled around frantically, shining the beam of the torch protectively up at the owner's face. The light illuminated Mike Gambit's features, and the eyebrows waggled at her wickedly.

"Mike Gambit," Purdey hissed in annoyance, lowering the beam and making sure he could see her displeased expression despite the darkness. "Where did you come from?"

Gambit's eyes rolled heavenwards in thought. "Let's see, I was born in Battersea in 1943…" he began, then left off when Purdey growled angrily. "Or were you looking for the condensed version?"

"However did you guess?"

Gambit grinned again, not seeming to take her anger particularly seriously, which only made her angrier. "As they say in the movies, 'thataway.'" He pointed over his left shoulder to the opposite end of the alley. "My car's parked just round the corner. You weren't very hard to find. That torch lit you up like Christmas."

"Hmph," Purdey remarked, not having a smart retort for that one. She really should have kept the torch off. She was a sitting duck otherwise. She reprimanded herself mentally for the rookie mistake. "Well, I didn't hear you…" she muttered, and allowed herself a touch of admiration at his technique. Gambit must have stalked down the alley completely silently to have caught her completely unawares.

Gambit shrugged unconcernedly. "Just a knack. I've had a lot of practice."

It was Purdey's turn to arch an eyebrow. "Sneaking into girls' bedrooms?" she offered.

Gambit's lips twitched in amusement. "Or getting back into quarters after-hours. Same idea."

"No wonder you're so good at it."

"Well, practice makes perfect." The last comment was spoken by a new voice, and Purdey found herself whirling around for the second time in almost as many minutes. This time her torch picked out the smiling features of John Steed. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear. Did I startle you?"

Purdey let out a long, tense breath she'd been holding. "Are you two going to make a habit of this?" she wanted to know.

Steed frowned in confusion. "A habit of what?"

"Oh, never mind," Purdey grumbled, accepting that she'd have to keep her ears open with this pair around. She made for the back door and extracted her keyring. "Shouldn't we be working?" she asked tersely, inserting the key into the lock and turning it.

"You're quite right," Steed said seriously, reaching into his breast pocket and extracting a slip of metal. It glinted in the torchlight. "If someone will hold the light, I'll get on with my part of the proceedings."

"I'll keep a lookout," Gambit volunteered, staring off down the alley. Purdey regarded him with a touch of amusement.

"Don't you want to see the master at work?" she inquired, hoping to rub Steed's prowess in. "My class would kill to watch Steed work a lock."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty familiar with Steed's handiwork," Gambit said without turning around, and the note in his voice was not jealousy, as Purdey had predicted. Instead there was…bitterness? A hint of betrayal? Purdey frowned and looked to Steed, but the senior agent simply flashed her a brief smile and bent over to attend to the lock. Purdey dutifully held the torch steady so he could work, but she couldn't help but glance back at Gambit, a slim silhouette framed in the contours of the alley. Here he was unreadable, an enigma. She didn't know quite what was going on between Steed and Gambit, but clearly bad blood had come into circulation somewhere along the line. Purdey suddenly felt the cold in her bones vividly. She had a sudden suspicion that a partnership was collapsing around her, and she was the last support beam, a slim, overburdened post barely holding things together. It wasn't a terribly comforting thought.

"Aha!" Steed's exclamation of success brought both her and Gambit back to reality, had them joining Steed as he eased open the back door. Purdey shone her torch into the opening beyond, her beam being joined by Gambit's as he unclipped it from his belt. The three of them crept inside quietly.

"The guards make rounds every fifteen minutes," Purdey whispered. "But they're horribly out of shape for the most part. They take the lifts, not the stairs." She took the lead, guided them toward the door that led to the stairwell. "If we're quiet we can bypass them completely on the way up to Wollerton's floor."

Steed nodded his agreement, motioned for her to go first. He followed, with Gambit bringing up the rear, watching out for any surprises.

Once they had reached the correct floor, Purdey eased open the door in the stairwell to peek out into the hallway, just in case one of the guards was still on patrol. The corridor was empty. Purdey breathed a sigh of relief and stepped through, letting Gambit and Steed follow as she took her keys out again, inserted them in the office door, and unlocked it. They filed into the office and closed the door quietly behind them.

"Right," Steed began, as Purdey and Gambit panned their torches over the outer office. "Purdey, you said that the filing cabinets weren't of interest."

Purdey nodded. "All of the important files are in a locked room down the hall."

"We'll come to that later," Steed decided, moving into the centre of the office. "Here the priority is Wollerton's desk, and that of his loyal assistant." He nodded at Doris Westbrook's bureau. "From what you've told us, Miss Bryde—"

"Purdey," she cut in automatically.

"I'm terribly sorry. Purdey, yes. As I said, from what you've told us, she's Wollerton's right hand woman. I've no doubt that she has a role to play in whatever's going on." He looked to Gambit, who was taking in the scene silently. "Gambit, why don't you and Purdey start there? I'll tackle Wollerton's myself."

Gambit's eyes glinted dangerously in the torchlight, and Purdey felt the tension in the room build again. "Of course," he said tightly. "You always know best, don't you Steed?"

Steed didn't reply immediately, but Purdey saw a warning reflected in his own eyes. "I do my best," he said simply, before turning and opening Wollerton's office door and disappearing inside. Purdey turned to Gambit.

"What was all that about?" she inquired, but Gambit simply shrugged and smiled.

"You know how it is. Blokes always trying to one-up one another. Nothing newsworthy." He dropped into a crouch in front of the desk and extracted a tool from his bomber jacket's inside pocket. "Let's get this over with, eh?"

Purdey rounded the desk and leaned against it, held the torch to illuminate the lock so he didn't have to hold his own in his mouth. "Are you competitive by nature, Mr. Gambit?"

"Ever met a man who isn't?" Gambit shot back, putting his torch on the ground and setting to work with a look of grim determination.

Purdey snorted. "Several. Some people never have the drive and give up before they start. But I don't think it's a question of sex. I think it's all down to the individual."

Gambit arched an eyebrow and chanced a glance up at her. "You wouldn't be talking about yourself, would you, Miss Bryde?"

Purdey grinned. "Does it show?"

"Just a feeling," Gambit murmured. "A little competition never hurts, but there's a line, and I like to think I know where to draw it." His voice trailed off, and Purdey knew he was talking about something else entirely. It was then that the lock clicked, and he set about easing the drawer open. Purdey whistled appreciatively.

"Well, at the risk of sounding indulgent, that was quite impressive work, Mr. Gambit," she offered, and she meant it. Maybe Steed was the master of the lock, but Mike Gambit didn't have anything to be ashamed of in that area.

Gambit's smile was surprisingly pure and genuine. "Why, Miss Bryde, that sounded suspiciously like a compliment."

"Don't get a swelled head, or it'll be your last," Purdey warned good-humouredly, coming down to kneel beside him as he opened the drawer. It was then that the knob of the office door turned, and the door eased open.

Riding on instinct alone, Purdey and Gambit automatically doused their torches, Purdey closing the drawer once more. She cast about for somewhere to hide, but Gambit was already ahead of her, grasping her elbow and pulling her down, underneath the desk. Purdey let herself be dragged into the confines of the small space. She folded her legs beneath her and tucked up close to Gambit's chest, head resting just over his heart, one hand on his shoulder, the other folded against her torso. Gambit, in turn, wrapped his arms around her and held her as close as possible, trying to fold his bent legs around her as best he could in an attempt to make himself as small as possible. Packed together as tightly as humanly possible, they waited to see if they would be discovered.

Footsteps padded softly into the office, and Purdey saw the glint of a torch as it panned over the office. Clearly it was a guard on his rounds. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing as soft as possible. She wondered if Steed had managed to hide in time. They hadn't had a chance to warn him, but she still felt guilty about getting herself to safety without helping him. Still, if anyone was capable of looking after himself, it was John Steed.

Though at the moment, Mike Gambit was looking rather capable as well. Stuck in such close quarters, Purdey was getting to know her new colleague much better than she would have ever anticipated. With his chest below her ear, she could hear his heart thrumming beneath the soft cotton of his shirt, beating just as fast as her own, with, if he was anything like herself, a mix of fear and unexpected high of adrenaline. The prospect of being caught at any moment was both frightening and exhilarating, and Purdey wondered if that was normal.

For someone in this job it is, she mused to herself, shifting her hand ever-so-slightly on Gambit's shoulder. It ended up closer to his neck, and beneath the skin her fingers picked up the rush of blood coursing through his veins. She could hear his breathing, too, close to her ear, could feel the rhythm of his chest as it rose and fell. Could smell him, oddly enough. His skin was damp with a touch of perspiration, and Purdey licked her top lip, realizing that she was sweating herself, hoped she didn't end up dripping all over Gambit. That would be embarrassing, and not terribly sophisticated. She wondered if Gambit was worrying about it. Probably not. He was too busy listening to the guard's movements, and Purdey knew she should, too, but the suspense was too much. It was easier to focus on Gambit, concentrate on something else until the danger—hopefully—passed. And the scent of Gambit's sweat filling her nostrils was certainly doing the job. He didn't smell bad, strangely enough. In fact, he smelt rather nice. Something distinctly musky and masculine. Purdey hadn't ever thought of herself as the sort of girl who would be attracted to that sort of thing, but maybe adrenaline did strange things to your senses. Maybe you started to let these sorts of things go to your head. Regardless, but there wasn't much she could do about it either way, not with the way his arms were around her, holding her tightly to him. Had they been in any other situation, Purdey would have strongly objected to the intimacy of the pose, but there was no other choice this time around. And even so, she felt oddly safe, cocooned under the desk, in the dark, in Gambit's arms. Purdey hadn't let a man hold her quite this way in a very, very long time, for reasons she didn't care to think about just now. Maybe that was why they seemed to strong and sure now, why she felt so protected. At some level, she realized, she had been waiting for Gambit to take advantage of their position, for his hands to trail somewhere onto her body where they weren't welcome. But Mike Gambit seemed to be living up to his reputation as a man who only put his hands to work where they were wanted. They rested quite securely on her waist and shoulder, holding but not grasping, not possessing the way he could. Purdey sat there, listening to the breathing, the heartbeat, feeling the arms, the strong chest, and wondered why it was that, in the dark, she felt as though she were seeing Gambit more clearly than she had in the light of day.

Gambit, meanwhile, was silently praying that the guard wouldn't read too much into the unlocked office door and go exploring. If they were discovered, Purdey would be the easier one of the two for him to grab. Gambit cursed himself mentally for not pushing her in first and going in after her—then, at least, he would have been able to cover her if the guard was of the particularly nasty, shoot first and ask questions later, variety. But they wouldn't have been able to fit that way, and there hadn't been time in any case. All he could do was hold Purdey as tightly as he could, and hope no bits were sticking out into the open. He wished fervently that the guard would hurry up and leave already.

And yet, a tiny part of him didn't. After all, he wasn't going to have the chance to hold Purdey quite this close again any time soon, and that was a damned shame, he thought to himself, because she was very, very nice to hold. Something about the way she was built made her feel both strong and fragile. And she fit so well against him, her head tucked beneath his chin. He could smell her hair, that cascade of gold, and the perfume was going to his head rather dangerously. That smell again. Where did he know it from? Alas, he never had a chance to follow that line of thought, for the guard, clearly not finding anything of interest, turned and closed the door behind him. There followed a brief click as he relocked the door, then the sounds of his footsteps fading into the distance. Gambit breathed out a sigh of relief, then looked down at Purdey. Even though he couldn't see her very well, he could make out the silhouette of her profile as she lifted her head to look up at him. They sat that way for a moment, letting the buzz in their heads calm down. Then Purdey shifted away self-consciously, and Gambit let her go, let her scramble out from under the desk. He took a moment to compose himself before he crawled after her.

"Steed?" Purdey had opened Wollerton's office door a crack and was peering into the room. Her hair had partly come out of its pin-up, and she was fiddling with it in an effort to right it again. Gambit limped over to join her, massaging the cramp he'd earned in his thigh. He wasn't too worried about the senior agent. Steed was pretty good at sensing when he was about to be discovered, and could go underground in no time at all. All the same, he didn't blame Purdey for worrying, but he wasn't surprised when he looked through just in time to see Steed emerge from Wollerton's closet.

"I'm here," he whispered, creeping out into the office and turning on the desk lamp, then placing his bowler over the top to dim the light it spilled across the room. "I take it you weren't discovered?"

"No," Gambit confirmed, shaking his right leg to get the circulation going.

"We were under the desk," Purdey informed, and Steed smiled with a little more pleasure than was really appropriate under the circumstances.

"Both of you?" he inquired pleasantly, and Gambit felt the grey eyes on him, even in the dim light. He could tell the older man was already congratulating himself on how well they were 'getting on.'

"Just barely," Gambit snapped. "And I've got a touch of cramp from it." He didn't mean to sound quite so gruff, but Steed was grating on him with that self-satisfied expression of his. Purdey looked over her shoulder at him with something that almost looked like disappointment on her face. What's that in aid of? Was she really upset that he was making out that it was unpleasant to be under there with her? Or had he cut off the blood to his brain, too? "We kept each other warm, though," he added with a grin, and Purdey couldn't but smirk before falling into her usual role.

"If we'd gotten any hotter, I may have taken my chances with the guard," she countered, and turned on her heel to head back to the desk that had provided their refuge. "Anyway, we're not getting anywhere hiding under the furniture. Let's see what's in here." She tugged open the drawer he'd unlocked earlier and extracted a single, plain folder, flipped it open on the desk top, and used her torch to illuminate it. Gambit joined her, looking over her right shoulder, reaching past her arm to lift the top page.

"They look like accounts," he observed, using his own torch to add to the light spilling over the pages. "Last quarter's, I'd guess. Yes." He tapped the corner of the top page, pointing out the date. He paged through the pile, and Purdey saw a pair of lines appear between his eyes in a sort of '11' as he frowned.

"What is it?" she inquired, looking back at the pages, trying to see what he saw.

"Something's not right…" Gambit said quietly, setting his torch down so he had both hands free to spread out the pages. "Look, there's a lot of money moving around between whatever these are." He ran a finger down the column of numbers on the left, each clearly signifying some sort of entity. "Whatever these are—companies, back accounts, projects—there's a lot of money moving between them, but if you look beyond the white noise, the money's all ending up in one of two places." He pointed each of them out in turn. "That shouldn't be. Nothing's this convoluted by accident. Someone's trying to hide where the money's going, and I suspect not for entirely innocent reasons." He straightened up, tapped the top of the desk thoughtfully. "Can you find out what those numbers stand for?"

"I can try," Purdey said, looking up at him with a touch of admiration. "How did you…?" He tore his gaze from the pages and looked her way blankly.

"How did I what?"

"Do that. I mean, you spotted that connection like..." She snapped her fingers to demonstrate. "How?"

Gambit smiled, and it was surprisingly modest. "Practice," he said simply. "You learn what to look for. And it helps to have a suspicious mind. You're too innocent still, Miss Bryde, but I'm sure we'll cure you of that soon enough."

Purdey grinned back. "Who's to say I haven't been cured already?"

"Don't say that. I have to have some goals in life."

Purdey was about to counter that, but it was then that Steed's voice broke into the conversation.

"I've some numbers of my own, if either of you care to step into the office."

Purdey and Gambit exchanged glances, like two wayward schoolchildren caught whispering while the teacher tried to explain an important point. They gathered up their pages between the two of them and moved to where Steed was bent over a similar array of feuilles. He looked up at them as they moved around the desk to flank him. "Now," he began, "what do you have?"

"Accounts," Purdey replied, showing him one of her pages. "Money moving in and out of…something. They're all labeled numerically, with no indication as to what they are, but I could comb through the filing cabinets. Mr. Gambit seems to think all of the money is ending up in one of two places."

Steed arched an eyebrow. "Really? Which two?"

"These, near as I can tell," Gambit informed, flicking through his pages until he found the right ones. "And I don't think all of the money's ending up there, just a big enough slice of the pie that it should put up red flags. Unless someone's fooled by the creative accounting."

"Many people are," Steed said knowingly, looking at Gambit's findings with an appraising eye. "And Wollerton's never had a hint of scandal regarding the books. He's only interested in money as far as it funds his research, no more."

Purdey's eyes lit up. "Research! Projects!" Gambit and Steed looked at her with incomprehension, but she leaned across and stabbed at one of Gambit's pages with her finger. "Those numbers. I thought they looked familiar. I've been going through Wollerton's files all day. He labels some of his research projects numerically, no name at all. I'd wager every single one of these numbers links up to some project, some piece of technology, or a contract."

Steed's eyes flashed approvingly. "Excellent, Miss Bryde."

"Purdey," she said automatically.

"My apologies. But I think you've found the nub. My numbers correspond with Gambit's, only Wollerton's desk seems to have produced a supply list, rather than the finances."

"Supplies?" Gambit inquired, leaning over to look at Steed's papers for a change. "You think this is the list of everything he needs to order for his job?"

"I'd wager that it was a fair assumption. And like your finances, someone's been diverting supply orders from the projects they were originally ordered for, to…" He checked the numbers. "Why, it would seem to be the same two projects."

"What a coincidence," Purdey said wryly, looking at the numbers. "Give me a moment, and I'll check the files." She strode back to the outer office, figure cutting a rather shapely silhouette in the dark. Gambit and Steed watched her go.

"You two seem to be getting along," Steed murmured, ensuring Purdey couldn't hear him in the next room.

"She's shaping up nicely," Gambit quipped, waggling an eyebrow at Steed. The senior agent clicked his tongue.

"Shape isn't in it. Smell seems to be the order of the day."

Gambit frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, unless you've taken to using expensive perfume as aftershave, I'd say she's been rubbing off on you, at the very least while the pair of you have been spending some time in close quarters," Steed said, with just a touch of smugness. "I'm delighted you've taken to your new colleague so well."

Gambit's frown deepened into a scowl. "You really think you've got me all worked out, don't you? Push the right levers, and I'll behave myself. Well, it's not going to work. I'm not going to be manipulated, and I sure as hell am not going to let you use Purdey to get to me. She deserves better than starting her career off as a pawn in one of your damn games."

Steed's face lost all traces of humour. "You're overestimating yourself, Gambit. If I didn't think Miss Bryde was suited to this assignment, I wouldn't have chosen her. I'm using her, yes, but only in ability to act as an asset to this assignment and the team. The fact that this provides an excellent opportunity for you to work on your, ah, interpersonal issues is merely the icing on the cake."

"You do know I'd be a little more trusting if you didn't go sneaking around behind my back?" Gambit hissed back. "If you bothered to say things to my face instead of pulling strings so others would do it for you—"

"I don't know what you mean," Steed cut in sharply, and Gambit could feel the barely-restrained anger permeating through the room. "And incidentally, when did it become 'Purdey,' and not 'Miss Bryde'?"

Gambit's fists tightened to immobility. "Don't you dare use Purdey to deflect away from you—"

"Neither of those project numbers are in the files, but that doesn't mean we're wrong." Purdey's cut-glass tones broke the tension as she returned, laden with several folders. She set them down on Wollerton's desk "They're probably down the hall in the confidential film room. But I did manage to find some of the other numbers—" She broke off when she saw Steed and Gambit. Even in the dim light filtering from the hooded lamp, she could see the tension in their faces. "Am I interrupting something?" she inquired, one eyebrow canting up with interest.

Steed smiled first, scrubbing away the anger instantly. "Nothing, my dear," he assured. "Now, then, how did you manage to look up the other project numbers? There are an awful lot of them, and you only looked at the two of interest…"

"I was blessed with a photographic memory," Purdey said brightly. "At least, for some things. It's not foolproof, but occasionally, if I'm focused, something solidifies, and I pick up all sorts of things. It was useful come exam time."

"I can imagine," Steed said with a touch of admiration. "A useful skill indeed."

"I get it from my father," Purdey said, then bit her lip, as though she hadn't meant to add that last part. She ducked her head suddenly, as though overcome, and it was Steed and Gambit's turn to be puzzled. But when she looked up again the smile was back in place, the blue eyes bright and excited. "Anyway, there are several projects here. Some of them are fairly mundane—small commissions to build automated devices for businesses, that sort of thing. But there are also a number of government projects, including a new missile guidance system in the works." She opened one file and handed it over. "That project's been abused both on the accounts and supply side. I doubt Wollerton is funneling all of Her Majesty's resources off for some greater good."

"No." Steed read the file, with Gambit looking over his shoulder. "I'm sure the Minister would be very interested to hear about this. I think I may have to pay him a call come morning." He sucked his teeth in contemplation, then glanced at Gambit. "Let's see who else Wollerton has been borrowing from, shall we?"

They spent a good quarter hour flicking through the files, before deciding they were pushing their luck as the time for the next patrol approached, and spent the last few minutes helping Purdey return all the files back to the desks and cabinets in the correct order. It was only then that they ventured back into the corridor, moving silently in the dark for the file room with all of the confidential papers. Purdey picked the lock this time, with Steed and Gambit keeping watch. Using one of her keys in conjunction with a pick offered by Gambit, she managed it, felt a thrill of triumph as the lock clicked. She looked up, and saw a congratulatory glint in Steed's eye, felt her cheeks flush in spite of the darkness, and hurried inside before he could sense her almost childlike glee at having John Steed of all people look at her with pride.

The filing cabinets were locked, too, but with three of them at work, the time to gain access to them all was minimized. Both project numbers had their own files, but the contents were sparse, only stating that Wollerton had initiated them, and was supervising them closely, plus a few financial details. There was also an address assigned to each, dictating the place of installation. One was recognized by Steed as the location of Wollerton's estate. The other was the office building itself. In the basement.

"I think we've delayed visiting our final stop long enough," Steed murmured, carefully returning the files to their drawer. "Though I regret that we weren't able to discover more here."

"Wollerton asked Miss Westbrook to retrieve some papers from here today," Purdey remembered. "There might be more, but they may be with him. I'll look out for them when they're returned and see if I can come back for them later."

Steed's pleased smile reemerged. "Will you be able to get back in?"

Purdey grinned. "I think I'll get better with practice, not worse," she said cockily. "I've learned a lot tonight."

"Excellent," Steed praised, and Gambit bit back the urge to snort. The way the pair of them were looking at each other didn't sit terribly well in his gut. It really wasn't fair at all. Steed reeled in the starry-eyed new recruits all too easily. A twenty-year jump on the game didn't really give anyone else a sporting chance, but Gambit usually fared pretty well on his own. But there was something about seeing Steed with Purdey that set him on edge more than usual, which didn't make sense. He barely knew the girl. And yet, he remembered the hint of perfume and swore that they'd crossed paths someplace before. If only he could remember where.

"We had better be going before our friend the guard returns." Steed's voice broke into his thoughts, and Gambit jerked back to reality with a start. "Miss Bryde, lead the way."

She inclined her head slightly, as though executing a miniaturized curtsy, and did as she was bid. She guided them to the lift and hit the call button, checked her watch. The guards were due for their break, and hopefully wouldn't notice the lights on the indicator panel winking on and off. The lift arrived swiftly, and the three of them stepped inside. Purdey hit the bottom button on the panel, and the doors closed. They rode down in silence, only the sounds of three sets of lungs at work puncturing the quiet. Purdey looked from one to the other out of the corner of her eye, saw Gambit's jaw working slightly, in what appeared to be a characteristic of anger or annoyance or anxiety, or any number of words beginning with 'a.' Steed, on the other hand, was outwardly cool, but there was something about the way he held himself on such a steadfast, rigid parallel to Gambit that made her think of the way they'd been back in the office, and wondered again at the nature of their association. From what she'd been able to discern, Steed had been the only man capable of persuading Gambit to willingly go into a partnership, which she would have thought was the hardest part. She wondered where things had gone wrong.

The lift doors opened, and Purdey put the thoughts away for when she had time to deal with them. She stepped out into a dimly lit, grey corridor, with plain cement floors and walls, and a few plain, stark doors lining it. Gambit and Steed followed her, both taking in the new surroundings with a quick efficiency she hoped to learn and perfect when she was a proper agent. She went over and tried one door, peered inside, only to find that it was the boiler room. She closed it again, opened her mouth to report her findings, but Gambit and Steed were already halfway down the corridor, both staring steadfastly at the wall. Purdey frowned, hurried over to join them, ask them what they were looking at. But the moment she was there, she found there was no need. The wall before them was not a wall at all, but a huge, shiny pair of silver steel doors, gleaming away under the meagre lighting and the beam from Gambit's torch. She added her own light to his, played it over the glossy surface.

"Do you think this is the project in the files?" she asked unnecessarily. Of course it was. What else would it be? All the same, she thought someone ought to say it out loud.

"I'd be very disappointed if it was the broom cupboard," Steed quipped, removing his bowler from his head so he could step in close and press an ear to the cool surface. Purdey and Gambit followed suit, leaning in and listening hard to whatever was ensconced behind the doors. Purdey detected a low hum, a gentle pulse of energy as it fed into some unknown destination. Occasionally the pulse changed tempo, subtlety picking up the pace, only to slow down again. She pulled her head away, looked to Gambit and Steed, who were regarding the door with identical expressions of unease.

"A computer?" she hazarded. "Some sort of advanced processor?"

"Possibly," Gambit agreed. "It's definitely Wollerton's line. He may be making advances he doesn't want the world to know about just yet. Or the government." He ran a hand over the steel. "But he doesn't mind using the government coffers to fund it." He looked to the senior agent. "Steed, what do you think? Computer?"

Steed's eyes were still riveted on the doors. "Yes," he said quietly. "It might be a computer." But the tone of his voice was that of a man who was all-too-used to having his expectations not only proven wrong, but blown violently out of the water. "But I wouldn't wager even money on it, not without having a look inside first."

"That won't be easy," Gambit replied, with mild annoyance. He was panning his torch over a box set into the wall to the right of the doors. It was unadorned except for a keyhole in the middle. He traced it with a finger. "I'd need more time and a hell of a lot more tools than I can fit in my pocket to force this one, and they'd know it was forced." He ran his fingers along the seam on the side. The key clearly opened a small door that, presumably, hid the means to open the large slabs of steel. "That's the way in. Code, wires, whatever. We won't see what's in there without seeing what's in here first."

Steed returned his bowler to his head, moved to join him. "No," he agreed. He looked to Purdey. "Do you have any idea how we might get in, Miss Bryde?"

Purdey thought, too distracted for the moment to bother correcting her name. "I've never seen Wollerton come down here," she said slowly. "But I think I saw Miss Westbrook go down once. The light on the lift indicator panel definitely stopped at the basement." She thought back over the scene, when she had passed the other woman in the hall outside the office. "She had a keyring with her. Like mine, only with more keys. One of them could possibly open that box."

Steed's face lit up with that smile again, and Purdey felt a grin tug at her own lips automatically. "Right. Then we'll have to arrange for you to, ah, 'acquire' those keys. And have enough time to use them."

Purdey's face fell doubtfully. "I'd need some sort of distraction if I was going to be out of the office that long," she pointed out.

For the first time since she'd seen them together, Gambit and Steed exchanged pleasantly smug glances. Gambit looked back at her confidently.

"I think we can manage," he said mysteriously.