By the next afternoon, Mrs. Peel was worried, to say the least. Steed hadn't called her, as he had promised he would, and when she had driven over to see if he was all right, he hadn't even the decency to be at home! Mrs. Peel resolved then and there that she would never again let Steed use that.charming voice.She picked up the phone. Better safe than sorry, she always said, so she dialed Bruce, hoping he would be able to help her locate that roguish.that uncouth.that cad of a.darling, John Steed.

**************************************************************************** **********

Steed awoke handcuffed to a large pipe. He remembered little of the night before; just being shoved into a small cell. They'd probably moved him while he was asleep. Well, he'd soon find out what was going on.

The door to the room Steed was in slowly creaked open, and a woman dressed all in black, and carrying a whip, entered the room.

"Good-day, Mr. Steed."

Steed lifted his head, wincing at the stiffness in his neck, "Good-day, Ms. Simpson." The woman stepped away, taken aback. "Well, isn't that why you brought me here? Because I knew too much," Steed questioned. A crack of the whip near Steed's ear did not subdue him into silence. "Normally I don't go for these sort of things, but,"

"Would you please just shut up?" Ms. Simpson screamed. "What made you suspect me?"

"You had the motive and the opportunity. Clearly Anri merely supplied the capital. He wasn't smart enough to undertake such a supreme criminal feat."

Ms. Simpson smirked. "You have that right, Mr. Steed. Anri, for all his wealth, has the mind of a child. I was the brains behind the operation. I planned it all."

"And what a superb job you did, too," Steed acknowledged.

"Thank you," Ms. Simpson smiled as she stepped into the light. Her eyes went cold, "But now you know too much, John Steed, and you must die."