Second Day
John Steed tentatively sipped his morning coffee. Seeing it was not too hot for consumption, he took a larger gulp. He set the mug down with a satisfied sigh before spreading some orange marmalade on a piece of toast.
Emma entered the room in a white, light and dark blue striped dress with billowy sleeves. "So what is the itinerary today, Steed?" She seated herself at the dining table and helped herself to a boiled egg and a buttered piece of toast.
"I'm going to visit Mother, and you are going to research which of my enemies have escaped or been released from prison."
"Should there be many on the loose?"
"That's what you're supposed to find out, my dear." The phone began ringing incessantly, so Steed jumped up to answer it. "Steed here."
"Mr. John Steed," came a high, feminine voice, "you may begin your journey to Department S to visit Mother. It should take you one hour and five minutes to reach your destination from your flat. Remember: if you come a minute too soon or a minute to late, land mines will explode you into a million pieces. Have a nice day and drive carefully." The dial tone began buzzing annoyingly in Steed's ear.
"I have to be going, Mrs. Peel," Steed commented, using his wife's old name affectionately.
Intent on removing her eggshell without loosing too much of the actual egg, Emma murmured a brief goodbye to Steed. She didn't even look up from her tedious task as Steed flitted around the room, looking for his misplaced black brolly and matching bowler.
Soon Steed was cruising down the English roads in his aged, yellow Rolls Royce. He arrived at the grounds that led to Department S precisely one hour and five minutes later. He crossed a field filled with skulls and bones, slid under a fence, and arrived at the farm that served as the ministry's convalescent home. Mr. Steed rapped at the door with his umbrella's wooden handle.
A red-haired woman opened the door and emitted Steed inside. "You made it just in time, Mr. Steed." The woman smiled demurely as she added, "I am Agent 114, Fran Minolta, Mother's personal nurse."
"Oh dear, has Rhonda been discharged?" Steed asked. He was referring to the tall blonde, who was Mother's assistant, given a various assortment of jobs, like a secretary. The only requirement Mother had was that Rhonda had to remain absolutely silent.
"No, but she was not qualified in the medical field, so she could not legally act as his nurse." Fran's brown eyes glistened with merriment. "I'll tell Mother that you are waiting for him."
Steed ogled the nurse as she glided up a set of rickety stairs to the second floor. He wandered into a living are where he helped himself to some sherry and biscuits. Suddenly he realised just how hasty a breakfast he had eaten and just how ravenous he was. He really needed to stop the unhealthy habit of skipping breakfast.
As Steed was eating and drinking the much-needed sustenance, three fellow agents entered the room. They were discussing in hushed-tones the plight of Basil Creighton-Latimer. A female spy, her right arm wrapped up in a sling, announced, "He must have done it, for I surely didn't!" This remark was nonsensical, but it was common for Mrs. Diana Parker to make such absurd statements.
"No, I don't think the ol' man has it in him to commit such a crime," argued a handsome agent named Mitchell. His right leg dragged a little behind him, obviously an injury from a recent accident.
The third person cleared his throat nervously as if to speak but said nothing. Steed realised that this third spy was unfamiliar to him. He gazed at the agitated man in utter interest. The stranger's wiry limbs protruded from his body at irregular angles. His head was bandaged, as was his left elbow.
All at once, the three personages discovered to their dismay that Steed was listening indifferently to their conversation. "Steed, I haven't seen you for ages!" Mitchell cried apprehensively. He wasn't too fond of the dapper man ever since his encounter with him in the Caribbean four months ago.
"What are you doing here?" demanded the thin stranger. His face was pale and gaunt, color that Steed expected to see on a deathly ill person.
"I came to have a nice, leisurely chat with Mother," Steed replied in a blasé tone. He pretended not to be alarmed at the man's abrupt behaviour.
"Harrod, that's no way to speak to a gentlemen," chastised the dense Mrs. Parker. "Well, we should return to our rooms now for a daily checkup."
The two men agreed, so the three invalids climbed carefully up the stairs. Steed saluted them mockingly, but fortunately, their backs were turned. He settled himself into a squeaky, leather chair.
Just then, the nurse entered the room. "I'm sorry, Steed, but I've just been informed that Mother will see no one."
"But he set up this appointment with me over the phone today!" Steed protested in confusion.
"Just the same, he has indubitably changed his mind." Fran dismissed the whole ordeal with a wave of her hand. "I will set the timer once again so you can cross the field safely."
Steed had no choice but to obey the serious woman. In several minutes, he was making his way across the grounds once more. Nothing made any sense to him. Why would Mother ask Steed all the way out there just to tell him to go away? Was it to spite him for wanting to break away from the ministry?
John rarely became angry, but this time was an exception. In fact, he was so enraged he didn't see a skull until he had stumbled over it. His bowler went sailing through the air, landing several yards ahead of him. Steed dashed after the bowler, but in his hurry, he accidentally kicked it. The wind grabbed the lightweight hat and sent it even more feet in front of the Englishman.
Steed huffed and puffed as he chased after his prized possession. As a result of his running, he got to the other side of the grounds several minutes sooner than he normally would have. This did not mean anything to Steed has he snatched his bowler and lovingly placed it on his head.
KABLOOM!
At first Steed thought his hat had caused the deafening noise, but he soon realised that it was just the land mines exploding. Mr. Steed mulled over this piece of information for a minute before he came to a startling discovery. The bombs only exploded if someone set them off! They could only be set off if somebody entered the property when the timer wasn't on, or if a person deliberately made them go off by using the controls back at Department S.
Did the bombs go off due to a faulty electrical problem, or had someone tampered with the controls? Was Steed supposed to have been blown to smithereens by the land mines? John Steed didn't know, but he couldn't go back to Department S and find out-not at the moment, anyway.
********
Emma tied a knot in her thread and snipped the excess off the little outfit she was sewing. The mint green jumper was now ready for her baby. Mrs. Steed had already created five tiny clothes in various colours for her child. They were in reds, greens, yellows, and blues that could be worn either by a girl or a boy. As she was returning her sewing basket to its proper place in the closet located off the living area, Steed entered the apartment.
"I called the ministry and asked them to find out which criminals have escaped from jail," she informed Steed. Emma slinked over to the leather armchair where she immediately seated herself. "It seems four of your enemies from your early days, three from when you worked with Mrs. Gale, two from when you were with me, and four from when you were partnered with Miss King have all escaped or been released from prison."
"How many are still reported of being in Great Britain?" Steed inquired.
"Eight of them are suspected of still being in their motherland, so any one of those could be behind this dastardly scheme."
Steed was pouring himself a glass of brandy from the bar. "And that's if you don't take in account that the reports might be wrong." He sloshed the alcohol around in his snifter before sipping it.
"So we really have no idea who did it."
"In other words, we're just as clueless as we were before."
Mrs. Peel was about to reply when the telephone rang. She answered it, saying, "Hallo, Emma Steed here." There was a pause as she listened to the person on the other line and then she said, "Yes, he just returned home; I'll put him on." Emma tried to hide a smirk as she told him, "There's a Fran Minolta on the phone who must speak to you urgently. Tell her you can't possibly meet her for that romantic rendezvous because your wife found out about you two."
Steed didn't make his usual sarcastic retort, but instead grabbed the phone from his wife. "What is it, Miss Minolta?"
"Oh, Steed," wailed a voice, "I'm so glad that you're alive! When we heard those mines go off, we only thought that the worst had happened to you! I don't know what went wrong, unless an animal got under or flew over the fence . . ."
"Could someone at the hospital have set it off using the controls?" Steed queried.
There was a brief pause, followed by several stammers. "I-I didn't think of that, but it is a possibility."
"It doesn't matter," Steed assured her, "as long as it doesn't occur again."
"We've sent several of the male nurses to investigate the land mines, so we should get a report of what went wrong."
"Well, when you find out, please notify me." Steed gently laid the phone back in its cradle. He glanced up at Emma only to discover her staring at him questioningly. "I was almost blown up by some land mines this morning," he explained.
A look of utter concern filled Emma's long-lashed eyes. She regained enough composure to ask, "So when is Cathy going to meet with Mother?"
"I don't know since I never got to see him." Steed proceeded to describe the whole events from earlier that day. When he finished, he concluded, "The sooner this whole bloody business is over with, the better off we'll all be."
Several uneventful hours passed, and the Avengers became quite restless. To occupy her mind, Emma decided to go grocery shopping and left Steed in the living room to ponder. He sat in his easy chair, staring meditatively at the roaring fire in the hearth. His eyelids began to feel heavy, his vision began to blur . . .
DINGDONG!
Steed jumped out of his chair, sputtering imprecations that a gentleman should never use. He was becoming very peeved at being frightened out of his wits by different noises. Steed stalked to the door and yanked it open.
There sat an extremely obese man in a wheelchair, a tall blonde standing behind him, ready to push him into the flat. The man had a large bandage wrapped around his head and a large cigar clamped in his mouth.
"Mother, I thought you were at Department S!" Steed cried in incredulity.
"Well, you had an appointment with me and didn't keep it!" Mother accused his best agent.
Steed stared confusedly as he replied, "The nurse said that you gave her explicit instructions not to be disturbed by anyone."
Scoffing in disbelief, the man motioned for Rhonda to wheel him inside. "She must have been talking to another mother, for I never said that." He seemed rather unfazed at this bit of news, though. "So did you come to Department S to appeal to me to 'let your people go'?" Mother asked sardonically.
"Actually, I was hoping you could give me any clues that might help me find the man who tried to murder you." Steed offered Mother a drink, which the corpulent man readily agreed to.
"All I heard were steady footsteps, followed by the sound of an antique revolver firing."
"Antique?" Steed repeated. "Do you know anyone who owns an antique revolver?"
"There are several of our agents who own numerous weapons, but I can't tell you off hand who they are, or if their guns are antiques."
"You don't think Basil really did it, do you Mother?"
Mother snorted disdainfully before replying, "I don't believe Basil could kill a fly, let alone his own uncle. And that's not just because he's too gentle, but because he's too incompetent to handle a gun that well. The person who fired at me knew what he was doing."
"I think you should head back to Department S before you're missed." Steed opened the front door for his boss.
"My dear man, did you think I escaped from that dreary convalescent home? No sir, I merely told the nurses and doctors that I was well and demanded to be released." Rhonda began pushing Mother out the door, but Steed checked them.
"Mother, Mrs. Gale wants to talk to you about our separation. Maybe if you heard her point of view, you would be convinced. She was in love with Smyth, one of your best spies-"
"And she turned him against me," Mother broke in. He smiled nefariously as he continued, "All right, she may talk to me, but it doesn't mean I will change my mind. Have her come around to the Penney Estate tomorrow at four o'clock-we can have a nice cup of tea together." Mother was wheeled out of the apartment and down the hall.
"Thanks a million, Mother," Steed called after him. Even though he and Mother disagreed on certain issues, Steed still admired the both strange and somber man. He hoped they would be able to work out their differences before one of them took desperate measures . . .
To Be Continued!
John Steed tentatively sipped his morning coffee. Seeing it was not too hot for consumption, he took a larger gulp. He set the mug down with a satisfied sigh before spreading some orange marmalade on a piece of toast.
Emma entered the room in a white, light and dark blue striped dress with billowy sleeves. "So what is the itinerary today, Steed?" She seated herself at the dining table and helped herself to a boiled egg and a buttered piece of toast.
"I'm going to visit Mother, and you are going to research which of my enemies have escaped or been released from prison."
"Should there be many on the loose?"
"That's what you're supposed to find out, my dear." The phone began ringing incessantly, so Steed jumped up to answer it. "Steed here."
"Mr. John Steed," came a high, feminine voice, "you may begin your journey to Department S to visit Mother. It should take you one hour and five minutes to reach your destination from your flat. Remember: if you come a minute too soon or a minute to late, land mines will explode you into a million pieces. Have a nice day and drive carefully." The dial tone began buzzing annoyingly in Steed's ear.
"I have to be going, Mrs. Peel," Steed commented, using his wife's old name affectionately.
Intent on removing her eggshell without loosing too much of the actual egg, Emma murmured a brief goodbye to Steed. She didn't even look up from her tedious task as Steed flitted around the room, looking for his misplaced black brolly and matching bowler.
Soon Steed was cruising down the English roads in his aged, yellow Rolls Royce. He arrived at the grounds that led to Department S precisely one hour and five minutes later. He crossed a field filled with skulls and bones, slid under a fence, and arrived at the farm that served as the ministry's convalescent home. Mr. Steed rapped at the door with his umbrella's wooden handle.
A red-haired woman opened the door and emitted Steed inside. "You made it just in time, Mr. Steed." The woman smiled demurely as she added, "I am Agent 114, Fran Minolta, Mother's personal nurse."
"Oh dear, has Rhonda been discharged?" Steed asked. He was referring to the tall blonde, who was Mother's assistant, given a various assortment of jobs, like a secretary. The only requirement Mother had was that Rhonda had to remain absolutely silent.
"No, but she was not qualified in the medical field, so she could not legally act as his nurse." Fran's brown eyes glistened with merriment. "I'll tell Mother that you are waiting for him."
Steed ogled the nurse as she glided up a set of rickety stairs to the second floor. He wandered into a living are where he helped himself to some sherry and biscuits. Suddenly he realised just how hasty a breakfast he had eaten and just how ravenous he was. He really needed to stop the unhealthy habit of skipping breakfast.
As Steed was eating and drinking the much-needed sustenance, three fellow agents entered the room. They were discussing in hushed-tones the plight of Basil Creighton-Latimer. A female spy, her right arm wrapped up in a sling, announced, "He must have done it, for I surely didn't!" This remark was nonsensical, but it was common for Mrs. Diana Parker to make such absurd statements.
"No, I don't think the ol' man has it in him to commit such a crime," argued a handsome agent named Mitchell. His right leg dragged a little behind him, obviously an injury from a recent accident.
The third person cleared his throat nervously as if to speak but said nothing. Steed realised that this third spy was unfamiliar to him. He gazed at the agitated man in utter interest. The stranger's wiry limbs protruded from his body at irregular angles. His head was bandaged, as was his left elbow.
All at once, the three personages discovered to their dismay that Steed was listening indifferently to their conversation. "Steed, I haven't seen you for ages!" Mitchell cried apprehensively. He wasn't too fond of the dapper man ever since his encounter with him in the Caribbean four months ago.
"What are you doing here?" demanded the thin stranger. His face was pale and gaunt, color that Steed expected to see on a deathly ill person.
"I came to have a nice, leisurely chat with Mother," Steed replied in a blasé tone. He pretended not to be alarmed at the man's abrupt behaviour.
"Harrod, that's no way to speak to a gentlemen," chastised the dense Mrs. Parker. "Well, we should return to our rooms now for a daily checkup."
The two men agreed, so the three invalids climbed carefully up the stairs. Steed saluted them mockingly, but fortunately, their backs were turned. He settled himself into a squeaky, leather chair.
Just then, the nurse entered the room. "I'm sorry, Steed, but I've just been informed that Mother will see no one."
"But he set up this appointment with me over the phone today!" Steed protested in confusion.
"Just the same, he has indubitably changed his mind." Fran dismissed the whole ordeal with a wave of her hand. "I will set the timer once again so you can cross the field safely."
Steed had no choice but to obey the serious woman. In several minutes, he was making his way across the grounds once more. Nothing made any sense to him. Why would Mother ask Steed all the way out there just to tell him to go away? Was it to spite him for wanting to break away from the ministry?
John rarely became angry, but this time was an exception. In fact, he was so enraged he didn't see a skull until he had stumbled over it. His bowler went sailing through the air, landing several yards ahead of him. Steed dashed after the bowler, but in his hurry, he accidentally kicked it. The wind grabbed the lightweight hat and sent it even more feet in front of the Englishman.
Steed huffed and puffed as he chased after his prized possession. As a result of his running, he got to the other side of the grounds several minutes sooner than he normally would have. This did not mean anything to Steed has he snatched his bowler and lovingly placed it on his head.
KABLOOM!
At first Steed thought his hat had caused the deafening noise, but he soon realised that it was just the land mines exploding. Mr. Steed mulled over this piece of information for a minute before he came to a startling discovery. The bombs only exploded if someone set them off! They could only be set off if somebody entered the property when the timer wasn't on, or if a person deliberately made them go off by using the controls back at Department S.
Did the bombs go off due to a faulty electrical problem, or had someone tampered with the controls? Was Steed supposed to have been blown to smithereens by the land mines? John Steed didn't know, but he couldn't go back to Department S and find out-not at the moment, anyway.
********
Emma tied a knot in her thread and snipped the excess off the little outfit she was sewing. The mint green jumper was now ready for her baby. Mrs. Steed had already created five tiny clothes in various colours for her child. They were in reds, greens, yellows, and blues that could be worn either by a girl or a boy. As she was returning her sewing basket to its proper place in the closet located off the living area, Steed entered the apartment.
"I called the ministry and asked them to find out which criminals have escaped from jail," she informed Steed. Emma slinked over to the leather armchair where she immediately seated herself. "It seems four of your enemies from your early days, three from when you worked with Mrs. Gale, two from when you were with me, and four from when you were partnered with Miss King have all escaped or been released from prison."
"How many are still reported of being in Great Britain?" Steed inquired.
"Eight of them are suspected of still being in their motherland, so any one of those could be behind this dastardly scheme."
Steed was pouring himself a glass of brandy from the bar. "And that's if you don't take in account that the reports might be wrong." He sloshed the alcohol around in his snifter before sipping it.
"So we really have no idea who did it."
"In other words, we're just as clueless as we were before."
Mrs. Peel was about to reply when the telephone rang. She answered it, saying, "Hallo, Emma Steed here." There was a pause as she listened to the person on the other line and then she said, "Yes, he just returned home; I'll put him on." Emma tried to hide a smirk as she told him, "There's a Fran Minolta on the phone who must speak to you urgently. Tell her you can't possibly meet her for that romantic rendezvous because your wife found out about you two."
Steed didn't make his usual sarcastic retort, but instead grabbed the phone from his wife. "What is it, Miss Minolta?"
"Oh, Steed," wailed a voice, "I'm so glad that you're alive! When we heard those mines go off, we only thought that the worst had happened to you! I don't know what went wrong, unless an animal got under or flew over the fence . . ."
"Could someone at the hospital have set it off using the controls?" Steed queried.
There was a brief pause, followed by several stammers. "I-I didn't think of that, but it is a possibility."
"It doesn't matter," Steed assured her, "as long as it doesn't occur again."
"We've sent several of the male nurses to investigate the land mines, so we should get a report of what went wrong."
"Well, when you find out, please notify me." Steed gently laid the phone back in its cradle. He glanced up at Emma only to discover her staring at him questioningly. "I was almost blown up by some land mines this morning," he explained.
A look of utter concern filled Emma's long-lashed eyes. She regained enough composure to ask, "So when is Cathy going to meet with Mother?"
"I don't know since I never got to see him." Steed proceeded to describe the whole events from earlier that day. When he finished, he concluded, "The sooner this whole bloody business is over with, the better off we'll all be."
Several uneventful hours passed, and the Avengers became quite restless. To occupy her mind, Emma decided to go grocery shopping and left Steed in the living room to ponder. He sat in his easy chair, staring meditatively at the roaring fire in the hearth. His eyelids began to feel heavy, his vision began to blur . . .
DINGDONG!
Steed jumped out of his chair, sputtering imprecations that a gentleman should never use. He was becoming very peeved at being frightened out of his wits by different noises. Steed stalked to the door and yanked it open.
There sat an extremely obese man in a wheelchair, a tall blonde standing behind him, ready to push him into the flat. The man had a large bandage wrapped around his head and a large cigar clamped in his mouth.
"Mother, I thought you were at Department S!" Steed cried in incredulity.
"Well, you had an appointment with me and didn't keep it!" Mother accused his best agent.
Steed stared confusedly as he replied, "The nurse said that you gave her explicit instructions not to be disturbed by anyone."
Scoffing in disbelief, the man motioned for Rhonda to wheel him inside. "She must have been talking to another mother, for I never said that." He seemed rather unfazed at this bit of news, though. "So did you come to Department S to appeal to me to 'let your people go'?" Mother asked sardonically.
"Actually, I was hoping you could give me any clues that might help me find the man who tried to murder you." Steed offered Mother a drink, which the corpulent man readily agreed to.
"All I heard were steady footsteps, followed by the sound of an antique revolver firing."
"Antique?" Steed repeated. "Do you know anyone who owns an antique revolver?"
"There are several of our agents who own numerous weapons, but I can't tell you off hand who they are, or if their guns are antiques."
"You don't think Basil really did it, do you Mother?"
Mother snorted disdainfully before replying, "I don't believe Basil could kill a fly, let alone his own uncle. And that's not just because he's too gentle, but because he's too incompetent to handle a gun that well. The person who fired at me knew what he was doing."
"I think you should head back to Department S before you're missed." Steed opened the front door for his boss.
"My dear man, did you think I escaped from that dreary convalescent home? No sir, I merely told the nurses and doctors that I was well and demanded to be released." Rhonda began pushing Mother out the door, but Steed checked them.
"Mother, Mrs. Gale wants to talk to you about our separation. Maybe if you heard her point of view, you would be convinced. She was in love with Smyth, one of your best spies-"
"And she turned him against me," Mother broke in. He smiled nefariously as he continued, "All right, she may talk to me, but it doesn't mean I will change my mind. Have her come around to the Penney Estate tomorrow at four o'clock-we can have a nice cup of tea together." Mother was wheeled out of the apartment and down the hall.
"Thanks a million, Mother," Steed called after him. Even though he and Mother disagreed on certain issues, Steed still admired the both strange and somber man. He hoped they would be able to work out their differences before one of them took desperate measures . . .
To Be Continued!