Mrs. Peel was painting a still life of a bottle of champagne in a large silver bucket when Steed arrived. She beamed broadly when Steed entered the room in his usual way, by pressing a little button hidden by her front door. Mrs. Peel wiped her paintbrush on a white rag and inquired, "What interesting news did you discover?" She stepped back from her work in progress so Steed could inspect it.
Mr. Steed made no comment about the picture, but instead replied, "I found out many things that will most likely shock you."
Emma chuckled quietly and said, "Well go ahead and shock me."
Steed pulled out the photograph of William Avery. "Do you recognise this man?"
Emma Peel examined it closely before answering, "Yes, he looks like William, the man who's pretending to be my husband, except William doesn't have such a ridiculous mustache. He has a rather distinguished one that curls at the ends."
"I drew the mustache on him myself."
"So is it William?"
"William Avery to be exact." Steed produced the photo of Richard Thoms. "Do you recognize this man?"
Emma stared at it, befuddled. "This picture was destroyed in the fire. Where did you find this replica?"
"Witherspoon had a copy of it. Who is this man, Emma—Mrs. Peel?" Steed scratched his head at his slip. "Why did I call her that?" he muttered to himself.
If Mrs. Peel noticed his faux pas, she made no mention of it. "This is a photograph of Richard Thoms and me. It's the only time I ever saw Mr. Thoms."
"Well, how unfortunate for you. You could be a single woman by now!"
Mrs. Peel gazed at him questioningly. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"Here comes the shocker: a company hired Richard Thoms to play your husband. He was to sweep you away from your job at the ministry and then ask for a divorce. Thoms never had the pleasure of doing so, for he was killed a week later and replaced by Avery."
"Why would anybody find a man to be my husband just so he could divorce me?" Mrs. Peel turned sharply away. "That's ridiculous, and I don't believe it."
Steed grabbed her arm harshly, forcing her to turn around. Mrs. Peel stared at him in astonishment. "Listen, I'm telling you the truth! Do you think I'd make up something like that for fun? Avery and his accomplice Ed must have really wanted to get near you if they risked everything to murder an actor. They want to kidnap you and possibly kill you."
"Don't worry. I can handle them," Emma replied coolly as she slipped out of Steed's firm grasp.
"I can't help but worry," Steed pronounced.
Pleased at his comment, Emma turned a blushing face away from him. It had been quite a complimentary and romantic thing to say, and they both realised it. It was also ironic that just a few hours earlier Steed had claimed to Tara that he never worried.
Steed cleared his throat sheepishly and said, "Well, we had better have a look at the suspect files. Witherspoon said there were two possible Ed's who might be the partner of William." He opened the folder on a table, and he and Mrs. Peel began scanning it for any "Ed's."
After Steed had turned what seemed to be the millionth page, Emma cried out, "There he is," and pointed at the picture of a brawny man. "'Edmund Baccarat,'" Mrs. Peel read, "born in the year 1935 in Manchester, England. Arrested for rioting, looting and brawling.'"
"Friendly sort, isn't he?" Steed asked dryly.
Emma continued reading, "'Worked with several partners, including Franklin Keith and William Avery. Was spotted with William Avery near the scene of the Richard Thoms' murder.'" Emma stopped reading and sighed dismally. "Well, he appears to be our murderer. What do we do now? We have no information about his whereabouts, or when he is going to strike next."
"It will be soon, I can tell you that." Mr. Steed closed the folder emphatically. "Avery left his gun in your flat, so he obviously hopes to use the weapon in the near future."
"I'll be prepared," Emma proclaimed as she gingerly touched the revolver which was lying on the table. She then executed a few karate moves and nodded in satisfaction.
Steed looked at his watch in dismay. "It's half past three already? I should have picked up Tara an hour ago." Steed raced to the door, and as he placed a hand on the knob, he added, "Are you doing anything this evening?" Mrs. Peel shook her head. "Yes you are; you're having dinner with me at the little French Cafe in town. The champagne is superb there!" Steed exited the room, whistling softly to himself.
Mrs. Peel didn't respond, but she flashed her winning smile. She performed several more karate moves, but she stopped short just as she was about to thrash the air with her arm. "I'd better find something suitable to wear." She hurried into the bedroom, ready to tackle the great task of choosing the perfect outfit. She must look her best!
Meanwhile, Tara hadn't missed Steed at all, for she had been busily searching for the off limits room. Usually agents were led there with blindfolds on, so she wasn't entirely sure which winding hallway it was down. Finally, she found the room, but naturally it was locked. Tara sighed as she retrieved a nail file from her purse to pick the lock. After a few futile attempts, Tara succeeded in breaking into the room.
As she entered the room, an overwhelming sight met her eyes. A hundred or more file cabinets aligned the wall and stood in the centre of the room. Tara eased the door shut and stood still, utterly astounded. She immediately perked up and walked over to the first cabinet. They were alphabetised, so she easily found the P's. Tara's theory was that Smyth had left out some important information in the file cabinet, information about Mrs. Peel's husband.
Tara quickly searched through the files, wishing she had an electric torch so she could see better in the dark room. Finally she reached the spot for Mrs. Peel's folder, and she was surprised to find written on the front, "See other name."
Thinking they were referring to Emma's maiden name, Tara shut the cabinet and went to the K files. Strangely, there was no folder under the name of Emma Knight. Instead, there was a gaping spot and a single note that read "File redacted. Need to know basis only."
Tara glanced at the portfolio of Mrs. Peel in her hand. "If it said, 'see real name' in the spot where her folder was, there must be another place for Mrs. Peel's folder to go. Yet, this cabinet says her file was redacted. Why?"
Desperately, Tara began looking at every file in the K cabinet. Soon she found her own name, followed by Dr. Martin King and Dr. David Keel. Tara noticed something strange with the portfolio on Mrs. Peel. First of all, it wasn't nearly as thick as all the other folders, and this was most odd, especially for Dr. King. He had worked on only several cases, yet his portfolio was crammed with information about him. Curious to see what sort of information could fill a folder, Tara took it out of its place in the cabinet and examined it closely.
Inside were all the minute details of his life, starting from his birth and ending when he stopped being a spy and had been placed in witness protection. The data was all typed out in neat print and in full sentences. Mrs. Peel's folder was hand written, the sentences were incomplete, and the information was very broad and general. Tara began pulling out each folder and carefully scrutinising them all. Every single one of them was in the same format as Dr. King. Mrs. Peel's portfolio was undoubtedly a fake—a diversion to keep people from sniffing around for the real one.
"That explains why Smyth was sent to fetch it and not me!" Tara exclaimed in revelation. "He was given a signal by Mother to get the phony folder for me, so I wouldn't go to the personnel files room and discover that the real file is classified. They must be hiding something about Mrs. Peel in her real folder, something about her husband, no doubt." Tara placed all the folders she had recklessly pulled out back in their proper order in the cabinet. "But what would they have to hide about her husband, and if the folder I have is fake, where is the real one? I looked under her name." Tara returned to the P cabinet and looked at the space for Mrs. Peel's file, again. "What does 'See real name' mean?" Tara asked herself.
"It means 'mind your own business,'" a gruff voice returned.
Tara whirled around to discover Mother glaring at her, utterly enraged. "Oh, Mother, I didn't hear you," Tara mumbled dumbly.
"That's rather obvious. Now may I ask what you are doing here? You have Mrs. Peel's file already—"
"Mrs. Peel's portfolio is a fake!" Tara accused him. "Mother, what is going on? Why did Smyth give me a fake folder? Does it have to do with Mr. Peel, by any chance?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Well, I'm a spy, and I live for truth and justice. Mrs. Peel may not be my favourite person on this planet, but she is entitled to know the truth. And I intend to give her just that, if I can. If her husband is dead, why not just tell her?"
"Her husband is not dead. He has been...indefinitely delayed."
"So you did know that there was a criminal impersonating Mr. Peel, yet you didn't do anything about it."
"Of course we didn't know, dash it all! You think we would purposely put the lives of one of our former amateur agents in danger? We hired Richard Thoms to play her husband, but the blighter went and got himself killed!"
"Why on earth did you hire someone to impersonate Mrs. Peel's husband? And how did you expect her not to figure it out?"
Mother didn't respond for a long duration, but finally he said, "Tara, you are under a lot of stress over this situation. We have this splendid machine that will help you forget all about this minor mishap. If you'll just come with me, you'll soon be your cheery self again."
Tara backed away from Mother, but he wheeled closer. A machine that made her forget? It sounded like it was a hypnosis device that brainwashed you! Is that what they had done to Mrs. Peel? Mrs. Peel had all the records of her husband conveniently destroyed in a fire. What if they had programmed her to forget everything, including where he was and what he looked like?
Tara clutched her purse with the trusty brick inside and advanced towards Mother. "I'll right, Mother, I'll come," she lied.
Unfortunately, Mother knew that there was a brick in her purse, a brick designed for conking unsuspecting people on the head. And Mother was not an unsuspecting person, by any means. "Hand me your purse, Tara," Mother commanded in an almost mesmerising tone.
Tara panicked for a brief second and then pushed Mother's wheelchair backwards. It quickly rolled across the floor and crashed into some file cabinets. Tara took this opportune moment to dash out the door. She flew through the corridors, not stopping until she was outdoors. Tara looked at the street and, noting that Steed was not there in his automobile, scurried down the pavement at a frightening speed. I can't wait for Steed to show up, not when Mother is after me, Tara thought as she fled from the agency headquarters.
A car drove past the fleeing Tara, Steed's Rolls Royce to be exact. He pulled up to the headquarters, quite surprised to see no sign of Tara. Steed thought nothing of it and merely entered the building in search of his sleuthing partner and friend.
Having no idea where Tara was, Mr. Steed headed for Mother's office. Mother would surely know where Tara was keeping herself. Steed playfully knocked on the door with his brolly before entering. It appeared to be a good thing, for Mother quickly scrambled to hide some papers from Steed's sight.
"Steed, what a surprise to see you!" Mother shouted in an almost nervous state. "Make yourself at home." He gestured to a leather easy chair and then quickly went back to his job of hiding papers. He carelessly stuffed them into the folder they had come from. Mother covered the folder's name with his hands and asked, "What can I do for you?"
Carefully surveying the obscured folder's name, Steed could only make out the beginning of the title. The part he could read said, "Knight, Em…" Steed instinctively concluded that it was Mrs. Peel's file, for after all, Tara had requested to see it. It was only natural for Mother to have it out still. But why would Mother want to hide the folder from him? And why was Emma's file under her maiden name?
"Steed, did you hear me?" Mother inquired.
Steed ignored this question and asked, "Do you know where Tara is?"
"She left a good hour ago," Mother replied nonchalantly.
"But I promised to pick her up," Steed cried, not buying the answer for a second. However, he pretended not to see through Mother's shallow lie and added, "Oh, well, it goes to show you can't trust women; fickle as always." Steed gave his truest smile to the undaunted Mother.
"Yes, I suppose you're right. Well, good day to you, Steed." Mother pretended to sort the papers in the folder.
Steed got up as if to go but stopped at the doorway. He had a hunch, and the best way to see if his hunch was correct was to bluff his way through. "By the way, I thought this might interest you: an actor was hired by a company to play Mrs. Peel's husband. Any idea which company that was? It was some place with access to lots of money, a place that is so clandestine, not even the best police inspectors could track it down." Steed turned solemn as he continued, "Sounds a bit like our ministry, does it not?"
For being cornered, Mother showed an enormous amount of levelheadedness. "Yes, Steed I did hire an actor, and I know he was murdered and replaced. However, I know the reason why I did it. Do you?"
"I was hoping you could fill in that little gap for me," Steed replied in an equally as composed voice. But unlike Mother, Steed was on the point of being rash. He glared angrily at Mother, his whole countenance changing from several minutes earlier.
Just then Smyth entered the room. "Mother, I lost track of Steed, and I'm sure he's got the information by now." He stopped short at the sight of the aforementioned man standing in the room as blase as if he had been discussing the weather.
"We were playing a game of cat and mouse, and I wasn't even told?" Steed asked. "How unfair; I was at a disadvantage."
"Grab him," Mother ordered severely.
As Smyth came thrashing at him, Steed ducked, sending Smyth to the floor. Smyth got up and punched Steed squarely in the right eye. Steed's bowler hat went sailing. Mother watched it fly across the room and then turned his attention to the brawl, serene as ever.
Unprepared for such an offense, the only thing Steed could do was hit Smyth with his he did with such force that his umbrella handle cracked and split apart. Smyth grabbed Steed's arms and they began swerving around the room, Steed trying to lose Smyth's grip and Smyth trying to keep it. Steed won and socked Smyth in the breadbasket. Smyth toppled over, completely winded.
Steed retrieved his bowler, placed it back on his head, gazed at his shattered umbrella, and quit the room. He walked slowly down the halls, lost in deep thought. Why had Mother hired an actor to impersonate Mr. Peel? Furthermore, why had he been so brutally attacked for finding out this information?
Wincing with pain, Steed headed toward Mrs. Peel's.
Steed rang the doorbell to Mrs. Peel's flat and waited impatiently for her to answer. When Mrs. Peel didn't open the door, Steed let himself in. "Mrs. Peel, you're needed!" he whinged.
Mrs. Peel emerged from her bedroom, toting several dresses behind her. She gazed at Steed's black eye and remarked wryly, "Having a touch of deja vu are we?" She was referring to the time Steed had been escorted to an elevator after trespassing and then had been punched in the face. She sighed in exasperation. "What do you want me to do?"
"Well, nursing me back to health would be preferable." Steed slunk onto her sofa, moaning softly to himself.
"I'm surprised that a man who faces death daily can make such a fuss over a black eye." Mrs. Peel frowned slightly as she set her apparel over the back of a chair. "Now suppose you tell me what happened."
"I told Mother that I knew of his secret, and I was attacked."
"By Mother?" Mrs. Peel inquired in utter surprise.
"No, by Smyth." Steed tried to open his right eye and ended up cringing in discomfort. "I think he's in on the secret as well."
"What secret?"
"That the agency hired a fake Mr. Peel!"
Emma was ever rarely struck speechless, but this was one of those times. She sunk into the leather chair that her apparel was draped over, her mouth agape. Finally, she managed to say, "Why would they do that?"
"Blast if I know. I was unceremoniously pummeled before I could find out." Steed laid down on the settee and pushed his hat over his eyes as if he was going to sleep. Unfortunately, his bowler agitated his eye, causing him to yelp in pain. He quickly removed his hat from his head and placed it lovingly on the floor next to him. He propped himself up on his elbow and feigned a groan.
"I gather we won't be going to that marvelous French restaurant that I've heard so much about." Emma poured a glass of brandy for Steed and handed it to him. After a quick checking noise from Steed, she made sure to avoid stepping on his hat.
"Of course we can't, not when I have this terrible black eye." Steed noted Mrs. Peel's disappointed expression and added cheerily, "That doesn't mean we can't have a cozy dinner here." He looked up at her in a beguiling manner, causing Mrs. Peel to raise her eyebrows in suspicion. She entered her kitchen and retrieved a steak from her icebox.
"Ah, a juicy steak for dinner. Good thinking." Steed, now fully sitting up, sipped his brandy contentedly.
"The steak is for your eye." Mrs. Peel almost thrust the piece of frozen meat at Steed. Since he had cancelled their dinner plans, she was not in the mood for his flirtations.
Steed confusedly stared at the frozen steak in his hand. He smacked the hunk of meat against a coffee table several times and made strange faces as the thoroughly frozen steak clunked noisily in return. He handed the meat back to Emma. "If you don't mind, I think I'll pass on the first course."
Emma returned the steak to its proper place in the freezer. As she was wiping her hands she called, "Oh by the way, Tara phoned me and told me to give you this message: 'Mother wanted to brainwash me, so I took a cab home. I'm all right now. I'll call you at your flat later tonight.'"
Steed started in alarm and said angrily, "First Mother wants Smyth to wallop me, then he wants to brainwash Tara. Either Mother is growing senile, or something is seriously wrong."
"I highly doubt it's the first reason, and I'm almost certain it's the latter." Mrs. Peel sat down in the leather chair again. She sexily crossed her legs and began meditating deeply. After a few moments, she suggested, "Let's get all the facts straight, shall we?"
Seeing the alluring Emma Peel refuse all of his flirtations was enough to encourage Steed to continue his gallant behavior. He loved toying with woman's heartstrings, and he had enormous satisfaction when he succeeded in flirting with Mrs. Peel. He got up from his position on the sofa and moved over towards Mrs. Peel until he was standing directly above her. "All right. Fact: your eyes are the most beautiful shade of brown." He grinned flirtatiously, watching Mrs. Peel's countenance turn from surprise, to pleasure, and then to a look of concentration. She was obviously trying to come up with a witty reply.
"Fact: you have more ways to change a subject than any other person I know." Emma looked up at Steed, and her hair cascaded across her face. She quickly brushed it aside and realised with some amusement that Steed was leaning in towards her.
"Fact: your hair has a luscious way of falling across your face when you get riled up."
"Fact: you are a somewhat annoying, but utterly charming cad."
Steed stood upright in surprise, his proper gentlemanly side indignant at being referred to by such a name. The feeling quickly passed and he managed to say, "A cad, Mrs. Peel?" His companion nodded sagely, suppressing a smile. "Well, I can't think of a proper response to that!"
"Don't trouble yourself over it."
"You can depend on me; I won't." They both exchanged mutual smiles that only they could understand.
"To be perfectly serious," Emma began, "we only know several important facts. First of all, Mother hired Richard Thoms to play my husband. Then Thoms was killed by Edmund Baccarat and replaced by William Avery. Furthermore, they both want to kidnap me for some unknown reason. Other than that, we are completely clueless."
"Not quite. We also know that for whatever reason, we weren't supposed to know that your husband was an impostor. As you recall, Mother was very upset when he realised Tara and I were on to him."
"But how did the ministry really expect me not to realise he wasn't my husband?" Emma scoffed.
Steed furrowed his brows. "That's the most troubling conundrum. The ministry was banking on too many variables for this to be a fool-proof scheme. Why didn't you suspect anything?"
"I did several times, but I always brushed it aside as an overactive imagination. I even toyed with the idea of separation, but Peter, rather William, never stayed around long enough for us to have that conversation."
"Interesting. So the ministry's plan for you to divorce your 'husband' would have come true if Richard Thoms had played the role."
Emma bit her lip. "I suppose so." She sighed. "Now all we have to do is find out where my real husband is, stop Baccarat and Avery from kidnapping me and find out why the ministry is going to such extraordinary lengths to upset my married life."
Steed glanced at his watch. "Is that really the time? I'll just be moving along, if you don't mind. Tara will be calling soon, and I'd like to be at my flat when she does. I need to understand what she meant by 'brainwashing.'" An idea was forming in his head, but he had to be certain of the facts before jumping to conclusions.
He strolled to the door with Mrs. Peel trailing behind politely. He opened the door but seemed reluctant to leave. "Goodbye, and remember, we still have that dinner engagement."
"I'll remember."
"Sleep well, Mrs. Peel," he said with such tenderness that Emma felt her face flush crimson.
Then something occurred that Mrs. Peel didn't remember happening except once or twice since she had been married and presumably widowed. She had the strangest impulse to kiss Steed. Trying to rid herself of the idea, Mrs. Peel replied rather tartly, "Good night." Then much to Steed's surprise, she nearly pushed him out the door.
Steed stared at the door, trying to piece the puzzle together. Mrs. Peel's abrupt behavior was very uncharacteristic of her. He shrugged, thinking to himself that she was most likely exhausted from the day's strenuous activities. He went on his merry way, not realising the tumultuous thoughts that were raging through Emma's normally logical mind.
These thoughts were still with her when "Peter Peel" returned home later that night. Mrs. Peel knew him now to be William Avery, and she could only guess that he wanted to cause her harm. Ready to attack if need be, Emma met the intruder.
Avery seemed surprised to see Mrs. Peel standing determinedly in the middle of the living room.
However, he assumed an affected air and asked, "Hello, darling, how was your day?" He advanced towards her, but Mrs. Peel did not move.
"Where's my husband?" Mrs. Peel demanded severely.
"What are you talking about?" William answered uneasily. "I'm your husband, Peter Peel."
"You're William Avery, robber, rioter, and now impersonator." Emma crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to alarm her adversary. It only made Avery aware for the first time of Mrs. Peel's attractive figure.
He surveyed her body attired in a navy, two piece outfit. The pants were tight and so was the top, which revealed her whole stomach. He inched even closer to her, saying. "I'm sorry you found out, because now I'm gonna have a terrible time trying to convince you to go with me."
"Go with you where, Mr. Avery?"
"To the old abandoned furniture warehouse down on Brighton Lane. You see, I've come to kidnap you."
"Why do villains always announce their whole plots?" Emma asked no one in particular. "You'd think they'd learn to be more discreet."
Ignoring her, Avery took a step even closer. "Now that you know my true identity, I may have to use physical force." He was now so close to her, she could feel his breath.
Emma's hair stood on end as she felt Avery breathe directly on her. They both stared at each other, tensely waiting for the other one to make the first move. And then suddenly, Avery grabbed her neck and began choking her.
Mrs. Peel tried to lose his strong grip, but it seemed futile. She held on to his wrists extremely tightly, hoping the strong pressure of her nails in his flesh would be too much for him. Unfortunately, he was one of the strongest men she'd ever encountered. Mrs. Peel was going to lose consciousness in a matter of seconds if she didn't think of anything. In a last attempt to loosen his grip, Emma pulled her knee up into his stomach. He made a horrible gasping noise and then let go.
Emma took this opportune moment to gain her breath. Then she kicked him, hit him, and did a magnificent karate move that made him flip over on his back. Emma waited for her opponent to attack again, but he seemed rather winded. Mrs. Peel used this time to brush her hair out of her face, since it had so inconveniently fell into her eyes again.
She placed her foot on his chest, making sure he couldn't escape. "All right," she began breathlessly, "where is my husband?"
"I don't know," William replied in a pathetic whimper. Emma applied more pressure on his chest. "It's the truth! Ed and me never knew why Thoms had been hired to play your husband. We just knew it was a golden opportunity."
"Why was it a 'golden opportunity'? What are you playing at?" Mrs. Peel asked, taking some of her weight off her adversary.
"I'm not telling you." Avery grinned wickedly. Emma stepped hard on him again, causing him to cry out in pain. "What more do you want from me?" he whinged.
"Why kidnap me now? Why not when I was working for the ministry?"
"Haven't you figured that out yet, lady?" Avery tried to remove her foot but met with little success. "We had to wait until the ministry didn't want you no more." He simpered wildly, adding, "Otherwise you would have been rescued by that bloke Steed who you've been philandering with."
"That is a very dirty thing to say," Emma exclaimed vehemently as her face turned a violent shade of red. "I've been faithful to my husband." Stop blushing, Emma! she thought to herself. You have nothing to be ashamed about. Since your husband went missing, Steed and you have always maintained a platonic relationship...More or less.
Since Mrs. Peel was lost in thought, Avery was able to pull her feet out from under her. Now they were both on the floor, a terrible disadvantage. Avery grabbed the nearest item he could find, a flower vase that had been sitting on her coffee table. He took hold of Mrs. Peel's legs, so she couldn't get away, and raised the vase over her head menacingly.
Emma Peel wriggled and squirmed to what seemed no avail. Avery brought the vase crashing down, but at the last moment, Emma freed herself and rolled out of harm's way. Rising to her feet, she posed in a karate maneuver and waited for Avery to fight her again.
Avery got to his feet but grabbed the hand set of a telephone from a counter nearby. He began chasing Mrs. Peel around the room with it. Mrs. Peel jumped onto her settee just as Avery was about to hit her. Avery tried to reach her, but he had run out of telephone cord.
"At the end of your tether, are you, Mr. Avery?" A smirk set on her face, Mrs. Peel placed her hands on her hips imperiously.
Avery gazed frantically around him, and before Emma could stop him, dashed out the door. Mrs. Peel ran to the front door but was too late. Avery had once more managed to escape.