First Night
Cathy stared at the cold, damp wall of the jail cell. The air was full of the smell of mildew, while the unfriendly words of the real criminals permeated through the thick stonewalls and iron bars, cutting her like a knife. She glanced at her wristwatch, which read six thirty p.m.
Tired of staring into space or at her watch, Mrs. Gale recollected her dazed reaction to the interrogation she had just been through a few minutes ago . . .
"What's your name?" asked Shuston gruffly as if he had no clue. Two other spies shoved Cathy into a chair, while Shuston poised his pencil in air, impatiently waiting for an answer. "Come on, it's just your name I'm askin' for."
Mrs. Gale did not reply, but surveyed her surroundings in interest. The police office had desks and file cabinets where numerous spies were busy at their meticulous work. Off to her right were row of chairs lined up against a table and a metal door. She knew that door led to the visiting section for the convicts. Beyond that laid the actual prison cells, snarling villains-Cathy squeezed her eyes shut at the thought.
"Dr. Catherine Gale," she finally answered. The agents raised their eyebrows in surprise.
"What are you a doctor of?" Shuston rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wondering if he should believe this amateur spy or not.
"I'm a doctor of anthropology, which is the study of man," was the terse reply.
"We'll have to get her fingerprint," Pemberly declared in a distinctly Welsh accent. "It's a normal procedure in these cases," he added hurriedly.
Cathy just sat numbly as Pemberly pushed her fingers into some cold black ink. "She's covered in blood!"
"By Jove, Pemberly, you're right." Shuston stared at Mrs. Gale's hands as if he'd never witnessed the sight of blood before. "You certainly were acting rashly when you killed Agent 114. Do the fingerprints match those of Mrs. Gale?"
A sharp nod of the head answered the question, and Cathy was dragged off to a secluded jail where murderers of English agents were kept. Before she was pulled behind the heavy, lead door, she managed to scream, "But I didn't do anything!" After some ogling from the male wardens, Mrs. Gale was pushed into a dark cell to agonizingly wait for whatever the future would bring . . .
"I didn't do anything," Cathy repeated to herself, staring blankly at the cell's wall.
"That's what I said, too," came a soft, male voice.
Dr. Gale turned, trying to find the owner of the voice. Finally she spotted the man, sitting on one of the dingy cots a few cells down from her. "You're Basil Creighton-Latimer!" she exclaimed in amazement.
"You're straight on the nose, miss. What're you in here for, not anything as grisly as murder I hope?"
"Actually, that's exactly why I'm in the murder section of this repulsive jail," responded Cathy caustically.
"No fooling; that's what I'm in here for!" exclaimed Basil as if Cathy had just told him they shared the same birthday. "All I was doing was waiting to speak to my uncle-I mean Mother-and some very uncivil person shot him and had the gall to blame it on me!"
"So you didn't have a violent case of laryngitis?" Cathy mused, putting the pieces together.
"I've never had that awful disease in my life!"
"I see; Steed lied to me, so I would have a meeting with Mother, because he knew I wouldn't go if there was a possibility that I could be framed for a gruesome murder!" Mrs. Gale was bellowing now, much to the chagrin of Basil.
"That's the spirit. Speak innocently at the cross-examination, and Pemberly and Shuston are bound to let you go. When you go, please put in a good word for me. They don't seem to believe that I didn't attempt to kill my uncle."
"You act is if I weren't framed and you were. I would never kill somebody unless in self defense."
Basil examined Cathy's countenance warily before continuing, "You know, I really think you didn't commit murder, just like me. You have too honest a face to hide the feelings of a hardened criminal. I look at your face and see pain and desperation, and none of it is an act. How did you get framed, miss?"
"I was waiting to talk to Mother at the Penney Estate, and while I was there Agent 114, Miss Minolta, was murdered."
"Isn't that the way of things?" The stupid secret agent shook his head in disgust. "What did the poor dove look like?"
"Well, she had short, curly, red hair and blue eyes-no brown." Suddenly Dr. Gale remembered something very important. When she had first met Miss Minolta, the spy had piercing blue eyes, and then later, after Cathy had gone to investigate the crash coming from around the kitchen, Fran had dark brown eyes! So not only had there been two women claiming to be Fran Minolta, but most likely the brown-eyed one had killed the blue-eyed one! There was only one more baffling question on Cathy's clearing mind. If she was being framed so she couldn't convince Mother to let Steed leave the agency, why was Miss Minolta slaughtered brutally? Why didn't the real killer try to slay Mother again?
Mrs. Gale returned from her meditation only to discover that Basil was staring pityingly at her. "I'm afraid there's no hope for us. Whoever framed me must have framed you, and this criminal is clever. I just hope we are saved before we get executed."
"Basil, do you mind not talking about . . . that."
"What was I saying that offended you so much?" Basil cried in obvious alarm.
"GETTING EXECUTED!"
Basil was about to reply when Cathy was ushered into the visiting area of the jail where Dr. Martin King was patiently waiting for her.
In order to get there, she had to walk past the rest of the jail cells until she reached a metal door. The warden removed a key from his belt and inserted it into the heavy door's keyhole. They exited that room only to enter another. This room had another metal door off to the left and a long table with a dozen chairs lined up against it to the right. Plastic partitions separated each chair from the next. The chairs faced a glass wall with a crisscross fence over it. A little opening in the bottom of the glass allowed the criminal to talk to the person on the other side.
"Martin, I'm so relieved to see you!" Cathy cried as she seated herself opposite the man on the other side of the glass. She ignored the supervisor who marched over to the door on the left, which led to the police office where Dr. King was sitting and where she had been earlier.
The doctor looked quite pleased at these romantic words. "Steed called to tell me of your predicament," he replied in a gravelly voice. "I rushed down here as soon as I could. How are you fairing, my darling girl?"
Cathy eyed him adoringly before answering, "Well, if you really want to know, I have been better. I've never been so afraid and angry in all my life! That John Steed has tricked me into doing his dirty work many times before, but never was I framed for murder! If I get out of here, I'm going to yell at Steed like I should have done long ago!"
Dr. King glanced sympathetically at his love. "Although Steed is the one who got you into this mess, I'm afraid he is also the only one who can get you out. Only he, with exception of Miss Tara King, knows your true character and, being a true member of the ministry, can plead with Mother-or whoever is in charge of the jail-to release you." Cathy mumbled an agreement, and King proceeded with his dialogue. "As soon as you are freed, we will get married and set up that practice in the country that I have been wanting to do for some time."
Cathy had been nodding amicably at his remarks until he got to the word, "country." Suddenly, she began to sputter in protestation. "But Martin, you promised that we could move to Africa when we were married!"
"Yes, I know, but people in our own country need doctors just as much as the Africans. Can you tell me how many of your acquaintances actually go to a doctor each year? The number is very slim, so it's imperative that I stay here to make sure our fellowmen are treated."
"At least there are doctors the English can go to when they are sick. The Africans have no one except for their Witch Doctors, who can hardly qualify as a physician."
"I don't know the language, though," insisted King.
"I told you I would teach you the many dialects, so you have no excuse for wanting to stay here except for your obstinacy!"
"I hardly think this is the time to discuss my stubbornness. You're on the verge of possibly being executed and you're complaining about trivial matters."
Mrs. Gale slowly counted to three, trying hard not to lose her patience. She managed to say quite decorously, "Martin, though you are trying your hardest to comfort me, I don't think you're doing a very good job under these particular circumstances. I would be very much obliged if you would leave."
Dr. King stared at her as if she had just told him her husband was alive. "What did you say?"
Catherine Gale rolled her blue eyes. "Stand up from your chair, walk to the door, open it, and leave the jailhouse."
Martin King burst into a nervous titter. "For a moment, I thought you were serious."
"It may surprise you, but I am as serious as I've ever been." Cathy glared furiously at her oblivious beau. "Get out OF HERE!"
Rising slowly to his feet, King stomped crossly from the building. Much to her sudden delight, Dr. Gale was prodded back into her solitary confinement. It was only when she was locked back in her cell that she realised just how utterly alone she was feeling.
Everyone she trusted had betrayed her. First Steed, then King, and even Emma and Tara had lied to her when they were talking of Basil's "laryngitis." Cathy was not an emotional woman, but at that moment she was the most depressed she had ever been. Placing her head in her hands, she began to weep agonizing tears. She cried for an hour, until the tears wouldn't flow anymore. Then she curled up on her soiled cot and shut her eyes tightly.
She was just dozing off to sleep when she heard Basil speaking to a convict. "See that beautiful woman over there? She's in the same plight as I'm in, framed for a murder she didn't commit and by the same man, I'm sure of it. I'm afraid 'death by gun shot' is written all over this case just like it is for me, unless somebody gets us out of this scrape."
Cathy shivered, but she knew it wasn't because the cell was damp. Creighton-Latimer thought they were going to be executed! "I have to get to the bottom of this mystery before it's too late!" Mrs. Gale murmured desperately to herself.
************
Cathy awoke at 10:30 p.m., feeling extremely desolate. She didn't know why until she realised she was in a jail cell, awaiting the charges for a murder she hadn't committed. She arose despondently from her cot and glanced over at the Basil's cell. Two bright eyes peered at her through the darkness!
Cathy resisted the impulse to scream in fright and sprang over to the barred doors. She soon realised it was just Mr. Creighton Latimer. Gritting her teeth at being frightened by the harmless Basil, Cathy gripped the iron bars with all her might.
"Come on, pull the iron bars apart!" shouted a familiar voice. Somehow the lead doors that sealed the jail cells off from the visiting area and the police office had been left ajar, and now John Steed stood near Cathy's chamber.
Emma followed her husband into the room, remarking as playfully as she could muster, "You've got some distinguished visitors awaiting for your presence, Mrs. C. Gale."
A warden pushed past the Steeds to open Mrs. Gale's cell. His swarthy biceps bulged from underneath his suit. As he unlocked the cell door, Cathy could see each individual muscle that was working at the moment. The warden ushered Dr. Gale and the Steeds into the criminals' visitors' section. Clicking his keys back in place on his belt, he bellowed to John and Emma, "Get back in the office, you troublemakers, or you ain't going see your friend. This area is restricted for the criminals and wardens only. You go behind them glass windows on the other side." He pointed at the unfriendly glass that looked like the window at a ticket booth except there was wire over the glass.
"If it's not all the same to you," Mrs. Peel started, "we want to see Mrs. Gale's whole face when we talk to her. We don't want any crisscross wires making our interview unsociable."
"We want to reach out and touch her hand, let her know that were there for her," Steed added, gesticulating in a melodramatic way. But the warden would have none of their protests and pushed them into the office and into two chairs.
"Why are you here?" Mrs. Gale demanded once Steed and Mrs. Peel were situated around the glass.
"We want to help you in this situation," Emma replied, taken aback by Mrs. Gale's uncivil behaviour.
"So the liars have suddenly come to their senses?" Frowning severely, Cathy looked at her friends' sympathetic faces.
"Listen, it's true we lied to you, but I had no idea that the killer would hit again," Steed protested defensively. "As the old saying goes, 'Lightening never strikes twice.'"
"Well, lightening does strike twice, and so did the murderer," Cathy snapped. She sighed and added, "I'm sorry I'm so cross, but this is not a very pleasant situation." Suddenly she noticed that one of her associates was missing. "Why isn't Tara with you two?"
"Miss King is here and at your service," came a jovial voice. Tara stepped from her hiding place behind Steed. Her complexion was wan but she was trying to appear brave. Tara eyed her young friend wearily before sitting in the seat that Emma had so cordially pulled up for her.
Mrs. Gale's spirits were renewed by Tara's trust, but she decided to hide her feelings under a veneer of complacency. She didn't want Steed to think he was forgiven, not yet anyway. Cathy asked casually, "What took you so long to get here?"
Mrs. Steed opened her mouth, but John butted in, "I had to return to London to pick up Tara and Emma. While we were at home, Mitchell called to say that Fran's sister heard about the death and was anxious to have the killer terminated." Steed clamped his mouth shut and groaned. "I don't think you wanted to hear that!"
Cathy nodded peevishly, her brain working at a frightening speed. "What did Miss Minolta's sister look like?"
"Oh, Mitchell described her as a cute little red head with brown eyes." Steed glanced askance at a female spy who was busy filing papers at a file cabinet nearby the visiting quarters.
Thinking that the red head might be the real murderess, Dr. Gale's stomach churned. She decided to stop thinking of such dismal things. "So, how did you manage to sneak into the 'off limits' area?"
"We had the help of that vision of loveliness who's filing those papers." Steed nodded in the direction of the female agent, who immediately turned in his direction. Steed winked at her in his smooth sort of way, which made the woman giggle like a schoolgirl.
"It's good to know I haven't lost my touch." Steed leaned back in his chair, sighing with satisfaction. Emma remained silent, knowing that scolding her husband would lead to a pointless dispute.
"Mrs. Gale," Tara began tentatively, "do you have any idea who committed the crime?"
"No, but I'm almost certain he is the same person who framed Basil." Then Cathy explained everything she remembered from her experience at the Penney Estate, starting at when Steed claimed he had seen Fran Minolta before. She told them how Fran had blue eyes one moment and the next minute, she had brown. Cathy also described the man in black with the antique revolver. By the time she finished her dialogue all the Avengers were deep in contemplation.
"Mother said he had been shot by an antique revolver!" John Steed commented.
"So we definitely know it's the same man," Emma announced.
Cathy was intrigued by their information, but she knew this was not going to help the situation. She expressed her feelings very frankly, which made the Avengers fall silent.
Mrs. Gale leaned forward in her chair so that she was as close to the window as possible. "I think Fran's double committed the crime, but I don't know how to prove that!" Cathy scanned the jail, hoping an inspiration would come upon her. "I'm certain that there was something in the mansion that would prove my innocence and solve this mystery." Cathy sighed despondently and turned to her friends for aid and advice.
Steed smiled ruefully before scooting his chair closer to the window. "Well somehow I don't think the bailiffs would allow you to go visit the scene of the crime." Emma brushed a piece of her brown hair out of her face, a habit that had been with her for most of her life. Tara just cleared her throat in a nervous manner.
Cathy's eyes wandered aimlessly until they rested on the beautiful woman agent. She almost cracked a smile when she recollected Steed's amazing persuasive power that had made the spy obey his every whim. That's when she devised a brilliant plan. "Steed, how long do you think that female spy remains at the jail?"
Steed stopped ogling the spy long enough to answer, "I don' know her work schedule, but I suppose she stays until five like most people at their jobs."
"Would she stay over time if you asked her?" Dr. Gale asked slowly and deliberately.
"Unless it's vitally important, I'd prefer if Steed didn't ask her anything," Emma retorted.
"Well, if she let you two into the 'off limits' area so eagerly the first time, she would most likely do it again at midnight. While she's performing that little task, maybe she would let a prisoner out of the cells." Cathy Gale let these words sink into the other Avengers' brains.
"You mean," Tara began, thinking as she spoke, "you want that spy to sneak us into the 'off limits area' again so we can let you out and then take you to Penney Estate?" Cathy merely nodded solemnly in reply.
"It won't work, ladies," John Steed interjected dismally. "The door to the area where you are being held had been slightly ajar when we arrived. All that secret agent had to do was distract anyone near the door, and then we entered with ease. That door, when properly shut, is always locked."
Cathy groaned in frustration, running a finger through her curled, blonde hair. She glared angrily at the warden, who had his arms crossed menacingly across his chest. Something glistening caught her attention, and she realised with delight what had caught her eyes, namely the keys on the warden's belt.
Mrs. Gale whispered very quietly to her companions, "I bet that warden has all the keys to the jail." See pointed at the belt, and Emma, Tara, and John all made sounds of admiration at her quick observation. "Come back at midnight, tonight, and you'll be able to get me out of here in no time."
Emma's look of approval vanished as she listened to Cathy's discourse. "Excuse me, but how are we supposed to get the keys from him? Not only is he on the inside and we on the outside, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't hand them over if we paid him a thousand pounds." Mrs. Peel stared at Cathy, expecting a reasonable answer.
"You'll lure him out with a decoy," was Cathy's simple response. "Now, who's volunteering to be the bait?" All eyes rested on Tara, who stared down at herself to see if anything was the matter.
Suddenly she understood their stares. "Why is it whenever you need a person to distract somebody, you turn to me?" Tara asked impatiently, shaking her head of short, dark brown hair.
"Because you're liable to distract anybody even if you were trying your hardest not to," John responded debonairly. "What man could resist your beauty and grace?"
"I can think of one man to start with," Tara quipped, "You!"
"Why, I'm a married old man!" Steed insisted.
"Is that why you were flirting with that gorgeous spy?" Emma asked sarcastically.
Steed was about to make a protestation of some kind, when Cathy, somewhat annoyed at the meaningless quibbling, added, "You're the best actor of all of us, Tara, so you could think of the better things to do to get the warden's attention." Seeming to forget the Steeds' candid remarks, Tara flashed a satisfied smile from her pink lips.
Nearby a sentry bellowed, "Your visiting time is over!"
All the Avengers exchanged panicked glances before Emma Peel replied, "All right, we heard you!" Then she turned to Cathy to say, "We'll be here at midnight, Mrs. Gale; don't worry." Steed and Miss King made similar reassurances to Cathy, and then the warden pushed them out of the room, mumbling something about, "staying overtime."
Later that night, Cathy couldn't help beseeching as she lay on her cot, "Please don't be long, Mr. and Mrs. Steed and Tara, or I might fall asleep." That was the last thing she remembered before she drifted into a restless slumber.
To Be Continued!
Cathy stared at the cold, damp wall of the jail cell. The air was full of the smell of mildew, while the unfriendly words of the real criminals permeated through the thick stonewalls and iron bars, cutting her like a knife. She glanced at her wristwatch, which read six thirty p.m.
Tired of staring into space or at her watch, Mrs. Gale recollected her dazed reaction to the interrogation she had just been through a few minutes ago . . .
"What's your name?" asked Shuston gruffly as if he had no clue. Two other spies shoved Cathy into a chair, while Shuston poised his pencil in air, impatiently waiting for an answer. "Come on, it's just your name I'm askin' for."
Mrs. Gale did not reply, but surveyed her surroundings in interest. The police office had desks and file cabinets where numerous spies were busy at their meticulous work. Off to her right were row of chairs lined up against a table and a metal door. She knew that door led to the visiting section for the convicts. Beyond that laid the actual prison cells, snarling villains-Cathy squeezed her eyes shut at the thought.
"Dr. Catherine Gale," she finally answered. The agents raised their eyebrows in surprise.
"What are you a doctor of?" Shuston rubbed his chin thoughtfully, wondering if he should believe this amateur spy or not.
"I'm a doctor of anthropology, which is the study of man," was the terse reply.
"We'll have to get her fingerprint," Pemberly declared in a distinctly Welsh accent. "It's a normal procedure in these cases," he added hurriedly.
Cathy just sat numbly as Pemberly pushed her fingers into some cold black ink. "She's covered in blood!"
"By Jove, Pemberly, you're right." Shuston stared at Mrs. Gale's hands as if he'd never witnessed the sight of blood before. "You certainly were acting rashly when you killed Agent 114. Do the fingerprints match those of Mrs. Gale?"
A sharp nod of the head answered the question, and Cathy was dragged off to a secluded jail where murderers of English agents were kept. Before she was pulled behind the heavy, lead door, she managed to scream, "But I didn't do anything!" After some ogling from the male wardens, Mrs. Gale was pushed into a dark cell to agonizingly wait for whatever the future would bring . . .
"I didn't do anything," Cathy repeated to herself, staring blankly at the cell's wall.
"That's what I said, too," came a soft, male voice.
Dr. Gale turned, trying to find the owner of the voice. Finally she spotted the man, sitting on one of the dingy cots a few cells down from her. "You're Basil Creighton-Latimer!" she exclaimed in amazement.
"You're straight on the nose, miss. What're you in here for, not anything as grisly as murder I hope?"
"Actually, that's exactly why I'm in the murder section of this repulsive jail," responded Cathy caustically.
"No fooling; that's what I'm in here for!" exclaimed Basil as if Cathy had just told him they shared the same birthday. "All I was doing was waiting to speak to my uncle-I mean Mother-and some very uncivil person shot him and had the gall to blame it on me!"
"So you didn't have a violent case of laryngitis?" Cathy mused, putting the pieces together.
"I've never had that awful disease in my life!"
"I see; Steed lied to me, so I would have a meeting with Mother, because he knew I wouldn't go if there was a possibility that I could be framed for a gruesome murder!" Mrs. Gale was bellowing now, much to the chagrin of Basil.
"That's the spirit. Speak innocently at the cross-examination, and Pemberly and Shuston are bound to let you go. When you go, please put in a good word for me. They don't seem to believe that I didn't attempt to kill my uncle."
"You act is if I weren't framed and you were. I would never kill somebody unless in self defense."
Basil examined Cathy's countenance warily before continuing, "You know, I really think you didn't commit murder, just like me. You have too honest a face to hide the feelings of a hardened criminal. I look at your face and see pain and desperation, and none of it is an act. How did you get framed, miss?"
"I was waiting to talk to Mother at the Penney Estate, and while I was there Agent 114, Miss Minolta, was murdered."
"Isn't that the way of things?" The stupid secret agent shook his head in disgust. "What did the poor dove look like?"
"Well, she had short, curly, red hair and blue eyes-no brown." Suddenly Dr. Gale remembered something very important. When she had first met Miss Minolta, the spy had piercing blue eyes, and then later, after Cathy had gone to investigate the crash coming from around the kitchen, Fran had dark brown eyes! So not only had there been two women claiming to be Fran Minolta, but most likely the brown-eyed one had killed the blue-eyed one! There was only one more baffling question on Cathy's clearing mind. If she was being framed so she couldn't convince Mother to let Steed leave the agency, why was Miss Minolta slaughtered brutally? Why didn't the real killer try to slay Mother again?
Mrs. Gale returned from her meditation only to discover that Basil was staring pityingly at her. "I'm afraid there's no hope for us. Whoever framed me must have framed you, and this criminal is clever. I just hope we are saved before we get executed."
"Basil, do you mind not talking about . . . that."
"What was I saying that offended you so much?" Basil cried in obvious alarm.
"GETTING EXECUTED!"
Basil was about to reply when Cathy was ushered into the visiting area of the jail where Dr. Martin King was patiently waiting for her.
In order to get there, she had to walk past the rest of the jail cells until she reached a metal door. The warden removed a key from his belt and inserted it into the heavy door's keyhole. They exited that room only to enter another. This room had another metal door off to the left and a long table with a dozen chairs lined up against it to the right. Plastic partitions separated each chair from the next. The chairs faced a glass wall with a crisscross fence over it. A little opening in the bottom of the glass allowed the criminal to talk to the person on the other side.
"Martin, I'm so relieved to see you!" Cathy cried as she seated herself opposite the man on the other side of the glass. She ignored the supervisor who marched over to the door on the left, which led to the police office where Dr. King was sitting and where she had been earlier.
The doctor looked quite pleased at these romantic words. "Steed called to tell me of your predicament," he replied in a gravelly voice. "I rushed down here as soon as I could. How are you fairing, my darling girl?"
Cathy eyed him adoringly before answering, "Well, if you really want to know, I have been better. I've never been so afraid and angry in all my life! That John Steed has tricked me into doing his dirty work many times before, but never was I framed for murder! If I get out of here, I'm going to yell at Steed like I should have done long ago!"
Dr. King glanced sympathetically at his love. "Although Steed is the one who got you into this mess, I'm afraid he is also the only one who can get you out. Only he, with exception of Miss Tara King, knows your true character and, being a true member of the ministry, can plead with Mother-or whoever is in charge of the jail-to release you." Cathy mumbled an agreement, and King proceeded with his dialogue. "As soon as you are freed, we will get married and set up that practice in the country that I have been wanting to do for some time."
Cathy had been nodding amicably at his remarks until he got to the word, "country." Suddenly, she began to sputter in protestation. "But Martin, you promised that we could move to Africa when we were married!"
"Yes, I know, but people in our own country need doctors just as much as the Africans. Can you tell me how many of your acquaintances actually go to a doctor each year? The number is very slim, so it's imperative that I stay here to make sure our fellowmen are treated."
"At least there are doctors the English can go to when they are sick. The Africans have no one except for their Witch Doctors, who can hardly qualify as a physician."
"I don't know the language, though," insisted King.
"I told you I would teach you the many dialects, so you have no excuse for wanting to stay here except for your obstinacy!"
"I hardly think this is the time to discuss my stubbornness. You're on the verge of possibly being executed and you're complaining about trivial matters."
Mrs. Gale slowly counted to three, trying hard not to lose her patience. She managed to say quite decorously, "Martin, though you are trying your hardest to comfort me, I don't think you're doing a very good job under these particular circumstances. I would be very much obliged if you would leave."
Dr. King stared at her as if she had just told him her husband was alive. "What did you say?"
Catherine Gale rolled her blue eyes. "Stand up from your chair, walk to the door, open it, and leave the jailhouse."
Martin King burst into a nervous titter. "For a moment, I thought you were serious."
"It may surprise you, but I am as serious as I've ever been." Cathy glared furiously at her oblivious beau. "Get out OF HERE!"
Rising slowly to his feet, King stomped crossly from the building. Much to her sudden delight, Dr. Gale was prodded back into her solitary confinement. It was only when she was locked back in her cell that she realised just how utterly alone she was feeling.
Everyone she trusted had betrayed her. First Steed, then King, and even Emma and Tara had lied to her when they were talking of Basil's "laryngitis." Cathy was not an emotional woman, but at that moment she was the most depressed she had ever been. Placing her head in her hands, she began to weep agonizing tears. She cried for an hour, until the tears wouldn't flow anymore. Then she curled up on her soiled cot and shut her eyes tightly.
She was just dozing off to sleep when she heard Basil speaking to a convict. "See that beautiful woman over there? She's in the same plight as I'm in, framed for a murder she didn't commit and by the same man, I'm sure of it. I'm afraid 'death by gun shot' is written all over this case just like it is for me, unless somebody gets us out of this scrape."
Cathy shivered, but she knew it wasn't because the cell was damp. Creighton-Latimer thought they were going to be executed! "I have to get to the bottom of this mystery before it's too late!" Mrs. Gale murmured desperately to herself.
************
Cathy awoke at 10:30 p.m., feeling extremely desolate. She didn't know why until she realised she was in a jail cell, awaiting the charges for a murder she hadn't committed. She arose despondently from her cot and glanced over at the Basil's cell. Two bright eyes peered at her through the darkness!
Cathy resisted the impulse to scream in fright and sprang over to the barred doors. She soon realised it was just Mr. Creighton Latimer. Gritting her teeth at being frightened by the harmless Basil, Cathy gripped the iron bars with all her might.
"Come on, pull the iron bars apart!" shouted a familiar voice. Somehow the lead doors that sealed the jail cells off from the visiting area and the police office had been left ajar, and now John Steed stood near Cathy's chamber.
Emma followed her husband into the room, remarking as playfully as she could muster, "You've got some distinguished visitors awaiting for your presence, Mrs. C. Gale."
A warden pushed past the Steeds to open Mrs. Gale's cell. His swarthy biceps bulged from underneath his suit. As he unlocked the cell door, Cathy could see each individual muscle that was working at the moment. The warden ushered Dr. Gale and the Steeds into the criminals' visitors' section. Clicking his keys back in place on his belt, he bellowed to John and Emma, "Get back in the office, you troublemakers, or you ain't going see your friend. This area is restricted for the criminals and wardens only. You go behind them glass windows on the other side." He pointed at the unfriendly glass that looked like the window at a ticket booth except there was wire over the glass.
"If it's not all the same to you," Mrs. Peel started, "we want to see Mrs. Gale's whole face when we talk to her. We don't want any crisscross wires making our interview unsociable."
"We want to reach out and touch her hand, let her know that were there for her," Steed added, gesticulating in a melodramatic way. But the warden would have none of their protests and pushed them into the office and into two chairs.
"Why are you here?" Mrs. Gale demanded once Steed and Mrs. Peel were situated around the glass.
"We want to help you in this situation," Emma replied, taken aback by Mrs. Gale's uncivil behaviour.
"So the liars have suddenly come to their senses?" Frowning severely, Cathy looked at her friends' sympathetic faces.
"Listen, it's true we lied to you, but I had no idea that the killer would hit again," Steed protested defensively. "As the old saying goes, 'Lightening never strikes twice.'"
"Well, lightening does strike twice, and so did the murderer," Cathy snapped. She sighed and added, "I'm sorry I'm so cross, but this is not a very pleasant situation." Suddenly she noticed that one of her associates was missing. "Why isn't Tara with you two?"
"Miss King is here and at your service," came a jovial voice. Tara stepped from her hiding place behind Steed. Her complexion was wan but she was trying to appear brave. Tara eyed her young friend wearily before sitting in the seat that Emma had so cordially pulled up for her.
Mrs. Gale's spirits were renewed by Tara's trust, but she decided to hide her feelings under a veneer of complacency. She didn't want Steed to think he was forgiven, not yet anyway. Cathy asked casually, "What took you so long to get here?"
Mrs. Steed opened her mouth, but John butted in, "I had to return to London to pick up Tara and Emma. While we were at home, Mitchell called to say that Fran's sister heard about the death and was anxious to have the killer terminated." Steed clamped his mouth shut and groaned. "I don't think you wanted to hear that!"
Cathy nodded peevishly, her brain working at a frightening speed. "What did Miss Minolta's sister look like?"
"Oh, Mitchell described her as a cute little red head with brown eyes." Steed glanced askance at a female spy who was busy filing papers at a file cabinet nearby the visiting quarters.
Thinking that the red head might be the real murderess, Dr. Gale's stomach churned. She decided to stop thinking of such dismal things. "So, how did you manage to sneak into the 'off limits' area?"
"We had the help of that vision of loveliness who's filing those papers." Steed nodded in the direction of the female agent, who immediately turned in his direction. Steed winked at her in his smooth sort of way, which made the woman giggle like a schoolgirl.
"It's good to know I haven't lost my touch." Steed leaned back in his chair, sighing with satisfaction. Emma remained silent, knowing that scolding her husband would lead to a pointless dispute.
"Mrs. Gale," Tara began tentatively, "do you have any idea who committed the crime?"
"No, but I'm almost certain he is the same person who framed Basil." Then Cathy explained everything she remembered from her experience at the Penney Estate, starting at when Steed claimed he had seen Fran Minolta before. She told them how Fran had blue eyes one moment and the next minute, she had brown. Cathy also described the man in black with the antique revolver. By the time she finished her dialogue all the Avengers were deep in contemplation.
"Mother said he had been shot by an antique revolver!" John Steed commented.
"So we definitely know it's the same man," Emma announced.
Cathy was intrigued by their information, but she knew this was not going to help the situation. She expressed her feelings very frankly, which made the Avengers fall silent.
Mrs. Gale leaned forward in her chair so that she was as close to the window as possible. "I think Fran's double committed the crime, but I don't know how to prove that!" Cathy scanned the jail, hoping an inspiration would come upon her. "I'm certain that there was something in the mansion that would prove my innocence and solve this mystery." Cathy sighed despondently and turned to her friends for aid and advice.
Steed smiled ruefully before scooting his chair closer to the window. "Well somehow I don't think the bailiffs would allow you to go visit the scene of the crime." Emma brushed a piece of her brown hair out of her face, a habit that had been with her for most of her life. Tara just cleared her throat in a nervous manner.
Cathy's eyes wandered aimlessly until they rested on the beautiful woman agent. She almost cracked a smile when she recollected Steed's amazing persuasive power that had made the spy obey his every whim. That's when she devised a brilliant plan. "Steed, how long do you think that female spy remains at the jail?"
Steed stopped ogling the spy long enough to answer, "I don' know her work schedule, but I suppose she stays until five like most people at their jobs."
"Would she stay over time if you asked her?" Dr. Gale asked slowly and deliberately.
"Unless it's vitally important, I'd prefer if Steed didn't ask her anything," Emma retorted.
"Well, if she let you two into the 'off limits' area so eagerly the first time, she would most likely do it again at midnight. While she's performing that little task, maybe she would let a prisoner out of the cells." Cathy Gale let these words sink into the other Avengers' brains.
"You mean," Tara began, thinking as she spoke, "you want that spy to sneak us into the 'off limits area' again so we can let you out and then take you to Penney Estate?" Cathy merely nodded solemnly in reply.
"It won't work, ladies," John Steed interjected dismally. "The door to the area where you are being held had been slightly ajar when we arrived. All that secret agent had to do was distract anyone near the door, and then we entered with ease. That door, when properly shut, is always locked."
Cathy groaned in frustration, running a finger through her curled, blonde hair. She glared angrily at the warden, who had his arms crossed menacingly across his chest. Something glistening caught her attention, and she realised with delight what had caught her eyes, namely the keys on the warden's belt.
Mrs. Gale whispered very quietly to her companions, "I bet that warden has all the keys to the jail." See pointed at the belt, and Emma, Tara, and John all made sounds of admiration at her quick observation. "Come back at midnight, tonight, and you'll be able to get me out of here in no time."
Emma's look of approval vanished as she listened to Cathy's discourse. "Excuse me, but how are we supposed to get the keys from him? Not only is he on the inside and we on the outside, but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't hand them over if we paid him a thousand pounds." Mrs. Peel stared at Cathy, expecting a reasonable answer.
"You'll lure him out with a decoy," was Cathy's simple response. "Now, who's volunteering to be the bait?" All eyes rested on Tara, who stared down at herself to see if anything was the matter.
Suddenly she understood their stares. "Why is it whenever you need a person to distract somebody, you turn to me?" Tara asked impatiently, shaking her head of short, dark brown hair.
"Because you're liable to distract anybody even if you were trying your hardest not to," John responded debonairly. "What man could resist your beauty and grace?"
"I can think of one man to start with," Tara quipped, "You!"
"Why, I'm a married old man!" Steed insisted.
"Is that why you were flirting with that gorgeous spy?" Emma asked sarcastically.
Steed was about to make a protestation of some kind, when Cathy, somewhat annoyed at the meaningless quibbling, added, "You're the best actor of all of us, Tara, so you could think of the better things to do to get the warden's attention." Seeming to forget the Steeds' candid remarks, Tara flashed a satisfied smile from her pink lips.
Nearby a sentry bellowed, "Your visiting time is over!"
All the Avengers exchanged panicked glances before Emma Peel replied, "All right, we heard you!" Then she turned to Cathy to say, "We'll be here at midnight, Mrs. Gale; don't worry." Steed and Miss King made similar reassurances to Cathy, and then the warden pushed them out of the room, mumbling something about, "staying overtime."
Later that night, Cathy couldn't help beseeching as she lay on her cot, "Please don't be long, Mr. and Mrs. Steed and Tara, or I might fall asleep." That was the last thing she remembered before she drifted into a restless slumber.
To Be Continued!