Second Night
Doctor King did join them for dinner, and after Steed introduced everybody, the six spies settled back to enjoy a relaxing meal. Steed and Mrs. Peel hastily informed every one of the latest developments, and then they all began having leisurely discussions with one another. Smyth and Steed discussed the itinerary for the next day, while Dr. King and Mrs. Gale spent the hour comparing their doctor degrees. Miss King and Mrs. Peel listened into whatever conversation they liked.
"I've never met an anthropologist before," King told Mrs. Gale admiringly.
"Well, it's nothing that special," Cathy told him, blushing with each word.
Smyth frowned a little at King's obvious attention to his girlfriend and stopped talking in mid-sentence.
"You were saying, Smyth," Steed prodded.
"Oh yes, we can't rent any more boats from the pier, because the owner is convinced that it was my fault that the boat got harpooned."
"How are we supposed to investigate if we have no mode of transportation?" Steed shook his head, evidently displeased at this turn of events. Suddenly he smiled as a plan formed in his head. "I know a certain person who may be able to rent us her boats, Miss Larraine Crabbe!"
"We have no idea if she is responsible for these deaths," Emma reminded him.
"Then I guess we'll find out tomorrow when I ask her for the use of her boats," Steed replied confidently.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer for the nightclub began, "I proudly present Miss Rhiannon Lake." A gorgeous singer stepped onto a brightly lit stage.
Over the loud applause Steed commented, "I was half expecting Venus Smith to come out and sing."
"Just so you all know," King started, "I have to be home at midnight. I need all the rest I can get before I start work tomorrow."
"Midnight . . ." Steed repeated, deep in thought. He snapped his fingers as he recalled a vital clue. "Yesterday and just a little while ago in my room, I overheard Hardy Korall say that he and his men were going to start looking for the treasure tonight at midnight over by the lighthouse."
"That leaves us only three more hours to enjoy ourselves if we want to see what they're up to," Tara remarked as she glanced at her watch.
"Let's all finish our dinners, and then go to either Steed's or my suite to come up with a suitable plan," Emma suggested. The proposition was readily accepted, and in twenty minutes, the sextet was lounging in Steed's hotel room.
"Now, who should be the one or ones to spy on the group?" Emma poured a plentiful glass of brandy for Steed and handed it to him.
"I think the most experienced spy should go," Smyth declared, hurrying up to the bar to get a drink for himself.
"Splendid, then I'll just slip out of this suit and into something more appropriate for walking on a beach," Steed replied, not realising how arrogant he sounded.
Trying to control her temper, Cathy remarked, "You know, Steed, not everyone in here thinks that you are the most experienced spy."
Steed nearly dropped his brandy glass as he said, "Surely you're not suggesting that Smyth is the best spy here?"
"That's exactly what we're saying," Cathy snapped. Smyth, Steed, and Mrs. Gale immediately began arguing the point, much to the chagrin of the other three.
"Why don't we two just do the spying?" Tara asked Mrs. Peel. "It certainly would save us a whole lot of trouble.
"That's a fine idea, but how do we tell those three that?" Emma nodded her head towards the squabbling trio.
"No Mrs. Peel, I insist you stay here, and somebody else go!" Martin King persisted.
Steed stopped short at this comment and pronounced, "Mrs. Peel is an excellent spy, and unlike you, she doesn't get caught!"
Mrs. Peel realised that another argument was about to begin and quickly added, "Every spy, regardless how good they are, gets caught at least once in their career."
"It's settled then: Mrs. Peel and I will go investigate Hardy Korall and his crew." Steed sipped his brandy and leaned back on his couch.
"You're insufferable, John Steed!" Cathy shouted angrily.
"Thank you, my dear!" Steed replied, unfazed by the insult.
"Steed, I'll be in my room getting ready for later," Emma informed him. She quitted his suite and entered her own. She changed into her black catsuit with the silver lining and the large silver zipper down the front. She could camouflage much better in the shadows in that outfit.
Emma leaned back on her sofa, closing her eyes. She would only rest a little bit before her outing . . .
**********
Emma awoke with a start and glanced apprehensively at a nearby clock. She relaxed as she noted that the time was ten minutes to midnight. She hadn't slept through the appointment, as she had feared.
She grabbed an electric torch, exited her room, and knocked on Steed's door. Tara opened the door and breathlessly informed her, "Steed and Smyth are still arguing over who should be the one to spy. I thought they had stopped when we began playing cards to hours ago, but now . . . Steed wants you to go ahead, and he or Smyth will meet you by the sight."
Emma shrugged and ventured out into the dark night. She walked gingerly down the beach, making sure not to trip on rocks or shells. Several times she was certain she had spotted an alligator, or some other unsavory creature lying on the sand, but when she flashed her light on the object, it was merely driftwood or a brush of some kind.
After what seemed an interminable time, Mrs. Peel heard voices and saw numerous dim figures preparing to go out to sea in their dinghies. She quickly shut off her torch and crouched low in the sand. The men held their own torches in their one hand as their other hand busily worked to get ready for departure. Mrs. Emma Peel watched this procedure with great interest from a distance, wondering why they were looking for treasure at night in small boats.
"All right, men, let's go!" bellowed the familiar voice of Hardy Korall. As his men started the dinghies' engines, he hopped into one of the boats. The little watercrafts cruised out into the Caribbean, their engines droning deafeningly.
Mrs. Peel's gaze followed the boats until it rested on what appeared to be a large ship just below the horizon. She couldn't tell what sort of ship it was or why Korall's dinghies were heading towards it. For fifteen minutes, Emma Peel watched the boats speed along the water before they finally reached the craft. About six men climbed aboard while the rest steered the dinghies in the opposite direction of the ship.
The ship sailed for several miles before it mysteriously vanished into a mist that lay heavily over the water. After countless minutes, some of the men in the little cruisers held onto their waterproof torches tightly and dove into the water. The remaining men just sat in the boats, keeping them from drifting away from the diving spot. The men were ready to assist their partners if the need arose.
Emma staid stationed in the sand for almost a full half-hour, hoping to see any sign of activity other than the bobbing of the dinghies as they were pushed by the waves. After a half an hour of no results, she decided it was time to retire. Frustrated and exhausted, she headed back to the resort. To add to her aggravation, she was exceedingly exasperated with Steed and Smyth's childish behavior. Because of their argument, nether one of them had come to help her spy.
Emma Peel did not often get angry with her partner in crime, John Steed, but this time he had exceeded his limits. She marched resolutely down the beach, ready to lecture Steed.
Meanwhile, as Mrs. Peel was heading back to the hotel, Waverly approached Steed's suite, clutching a revolver. He hid himself in the shadows, hoping that Mr. John Steed, the tenant of the room, would appear soon. He had to kill Steed before he returned to the excavation site, or Professor Korall would be furious.
Just then, a man dressed in dinner clothes appeared from the suite. Waverly quickly surveyed the man: tall, dark brown hair-yes, this was definitely Steed. He would recognise the back of his head anywhere. With a nervous smile, he hid the gun and followed Steed down the hall and out of the building.
The two stayed in the shadows as they traveled down the beach toward the lighthouse. Waverly stopped for a moment, confused. Steed was heading straight toward where Korall's men were searching for treasure! He had to kill Steed now before he reached the site.
Waverly sneaked closer to the man until he could hear him breathing. Then, he removed the gun from his coat pocket, placed a silencer over the mouth, and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. "That'll stop your snooping, John Steed!" Waverly cried before he ran off into the darkness.
The spy slumped to the ground, writhing in pain. He lifted his hand and felt the one hole in his back. The stupid murderer had missed twice, but the last bullet had hit him. Quickly, knowing death was near, the weak man wrote out a message in the sand with his own blood.
************
Emma had almost reached the resort property when she stumbled upon something long and warm. Shining her torch directly below, she peered at the ground to discover a fresh, bloody corpse, face down in the sand. With a look of repulsion planted on her face, Emma examined the body. She determined that he had been shot in the back and had died only several minutes ago.
Suddenly an eerie thought dawned on her: she knew this man. Emma trembled, and her blood chilled as she carefully rolled the body over. She tried to stop the dizziness and the nausea that filled her as she stared at the twisted countenance of the corpse, the late Richard Smyth.
To Be Continued!
Note: I know you're probably thinking, "Why did you have to kill Smyth?" I promise you that Cathy will not be heartbroken and lonely for long . . .
Doctor King did join them for dinner, and after Steed introduced everybody, the six spies settled back to enjoy a relaxing meal. Steed and Mrs. Peel hastily informed every one of the latest developments, and then they all began having leisurely discussions with one another. Smyth and Steed discussed the itinerary for the next day, while Dr. King and Mrs. Gale spent the hour comparing their doctor degrees. Miss King and Mrs. Peel listened into whatever conversation they liked.
"I've never met an anthropologist before," King told Mrs. Gale admiringly.
"Well, it's nothing that special," Cathy told him, blushing with each word.
Smyth frowned a little at King's obvious attention to his girlfriend and stopped talking in mid-sentence.
"You were saying, Smyth," Steed prodded.
"Oh yes, we can't rent any more boats from the pier, because the owner is convinced that it was my fault that the boat got harpooned."
"How are we supposed to investigate if we have no mode of transportation?" Steed shook his head, evidently displeased at this turn of events. Suddenly he smiled as a plan formed in his head. "I know a certain person who may be able to rent us her boats, Miss Larraine Crabbe!"
"We have no idea if she is responsible for these deaths," Emma reminded him.
"Then I guess we'll find out tomorrow when I ask her for the use of her boats," Steed replied confidently.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer for the nightclub began, "I proudly present Miss Rhiannon Lake." A gorgeous singer stepped onto a brightly lit stage.
Over the loud applause Steed commented, "I was half expecting Venus Smith to come out and sing."
"Just so you all know," King started, "I have to be home at midnight. I need all the rest I can get before I start work tomorrow."
"Midnight . . ." Steed repeated, deep in thought. He snapped his fingers as he recalled a vital clue. "Yesterday and just a little while ago in my room, I overheard Hardy Korall say that he and his men were going to start looking for the treasure tonight at midnight over by the lighthouse."
"That leaves us only three more hours to enjoy ourselves if we want to see what they're up to," Tara remarked as she glanced at her watch.
"Let's all finish our dinners, and then go to either Steed's or my suite to come up with a suitable plan," Emma suggested. The proposition was readily accepted, and in twenty minutes, the sextet was lounging in Steed's hotel room.
"Now, who should be the one or ones to spy on the group?" Emma poured a plentiful glass of brandy for Steed and handed it to him.
"I think the most experienced spy should go," Smyth declared, hurrying up to the bar to get a drink for himself.
"Splendid, then I'll just slip out of this suit and into something more appropriate for walking on a beach," Steed replied, not realising how arrogant he sounded.
Trying to control her temper, Cathy remarked, "You know, Steed, not everyone in here thinks that you are the most experienced spy."
Steed nearly dropped his brandy glass as he said, "Surely you're not suggesting that Smyth is the best spy here?"
"That's exactly what we're saying," Cathy snapped. Smyth, Steed, and Mrs. Gale immediately began arguing the point, much to the chagrin of the other three.
"Why don't we two just do the spying?" Tara asked Mrs. Peel. "It certainly would save us a whole lot of trouble.
"That's a fine idea, but how do we tell those three that?" Emma nodded her head towards the squabbling trio.
"No Mrs. Peel, I insist you stay here, and somebody else go!" Martin King persisted.
Steed stopped short at this comment and pronounced, "Mrs. Peel is an excellent spy, and unlike you, she doesn't get caught!"
Mrs. Peel realised that another argument was about to begin and quickly added, "Every spy, regardless how good they are, gets caught at least once in their career."
"It's settled then: Mrs. Peel and I will go investigate Hardy Korall and his crew." Steed sipped his brandy and leaned back on his couch.
"You're insufferable, John Steed!" Cathy shouted angrily.
"Thank you, my dear!" Steed replied, unfazed by the insult.
"Steed, I'll be in my room getting ready for later," Emma informed him. She quitted his suite and entered her own. She changed into her black catsuit with the silver lining and the large silver zipper down the front. She could camouflage much better in the shadows in that outfit.
Emma leaned back on her sofa, closing her eyes. She would only rest a little bit before her outing . . .
**********
Emma awoke with a start and glanced apprehensively at a nearby clock. She relaxed as she noted that the time was ten minutes to midnight. She hadn't slept through the appointment, as she had feared.
She grabbed an electric torch, exited her room, and knocked on Steed's door. Tara opened the door and breathlessly informed her, "Steed and Smyth are still arguing over who should be the one to spy. I thought they had stopped when we began playing cards to hours ago, but now . . . Steed wants you to go ahead, and he or Smyth will meet you by the sight."
Emma shrugged and ventured out into the dark night. She walked gingerly down the beach, making sure not to trip on rocks or shells. Several times she was certain she had spotted an alligator, or some other unsavory creature lying on the sand, but when she flashed her light on the object, it was merely driftwood or a brush of some kind.
After what seemed an interminable time, Mrs. Peel heard voices and saw numerous dim figures preparing to go out to sea in their dinghies. She quickly shut off her torch and crouched low in the sand. The men held their own torches in their one hand as their other hand busily worked to get ready for departure. Mrs. Emma Peel watched this procedure with great interest from a distance, wondering why they were looking for treasure at night in small boats.
"All right, men, let's go!" bellowed the familiar voice of Hardy Korall. As his men started the dinghies' engines, he hopped into one of the boats. The little watercrafts cruised out into the Caribbean, their engines droning deafeningly.
Mrs. Peel's gaze followed the boats until it rested on what appeared to be a large ship just below the horizon. She couldn't tell what sort of ship it was or why Korall's dinghies were heading towards it. For fifteen minutes, Emma Peel watched the boats speed along the water before they finally reached the craft. About six men climbed aboard while the rest steered the dinghies in the opposite direction of the ship.
The ship sailed for several miles before it mysteriously vanished into a mist that lay heavily over the water. After countless minutes, some of the men in the little cruisers held onto their waterproof torches tightly and dove into the water. The remaining men just sat in the boats, keeping them from drifting away from the diving spot. The men were ready to assist their partners if the need arose.
Emma staid stationed in the sand for almost a full half-hour, hoping to see any sign of activity other than the bobbing of the dinghies as they were pushed by the waves. After a half an hour of no results, she decided it was time to retire. Frustrated and exhausted, she headed back to the resort. To add to her aggravation, she was exceedingly exasperated with Steed and Smyth's childish behavior. Because of their argument, nether one of them had come to help her spy.
Emma Peel did not often get angry with her partner in crime, John Steed, but this time he had exceeded his limits. She marched resolutely down the beach, ready to lecture Steed.
Meanwhile, as Mrs. Peel was heading back to the hotel, Waverly approached Steed's suite, clutching a revolver. He hid himself in the shadows, hoping that Mr. John Steed, the tenant of the room, would appear soon. He had to kill Steed before he returned to the excavation site, or Professor Korall would be furious.
Just then, a man dressed in dinner clothes appeared from the suite. Waverly quickly surveyed the man: tall, dark brown hair-yes, this was definitely Steed. He would recognise the back of his head anywhere. With a nervous smile, he hid the gun and followed Steed down the hall and out of the building.
The two stayed in the shadows as they traveled down the beach toward the lighthouse. Waverly stopped for a moment, confused. Steed was heading straight toward where Korall's men were searching for treasure! He had to kill Steed now before he reached the site.
Waverly sneaked closer to the man until he could hear him breathing. Then, he removed the gun from his coat pocket, placed a silencer over the mouth, and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times. "That'll stop your snooping, John Steed!" Waverly cried before he ran off into the darkness.
The spy slumped to the ground, writhing in pain. He lifted his hand and felt the one hole in his back. The stupid murderer had missed twice, but the last bullet had hit him. Quickly, knowing death was near, the weak man wrote out a message in the sand with his own blood.
************
Emma had almost reached the resort property when she stumbled upon something long and warm. Shining her torch directly below, she peered at the ground to discover a fresh, bloody corpse, face down in the sand. With a look of repulsion planted on her face, Emma examined the body. She determined that he had been shot in the back and had died only several minutes ago.
Suddenly an eerie thought dawned on her: she knew this man. Emma trembled, and her blood chilled as she carefully rolled the body over. She tried to stop the dizziness and the nausea that filled her as she stared at the twisted countenance of the corpse, the late Richard Smyth.
To Be Continued!
Note: I know you're probably thinking, "Why did you have to kill Smyth?" I promise you that Cathy will not be heartbroken and lonely for long . . .
