Chapter Three
The plans for the agent tests were completed the following morning. Since his superiors wanted his approval, Steed had to review the lists. There were eight tests in all, and he hated every single one, especially the last-the test that would decide who was a real spy.
"All I want is Emma Peel," he muttered to himself as he passed the plans back to Mother and Charles' eager hands. Aloud, he said, "The tests are fine," and he gave one of his false smiles.
An interesting idea occurred to him. "Hey, can't the ladies cheat on the tests? They could practise at home, and when they arrive they will ace through all of them."
"They don't even know there's going to be a series of tests!" Mother crowed.
"They just think that we're going to examine them for a day, and you are going to choose one of them at the end!" Charles.
Mother added, "By the time they realise they're being tested, all they can do is wait for the next one."
"But the tests will be so subtle, the women won't know what is a test and what isn't," Charles finished.
John Steed's superiors had thought of everything, curse them.
In order to get to the special headquarters, maps were sent out to all the eligible lady spies. There was always a chance an enemy agent would get hold of a map, but this did not concern the unflappable Mother and Charles. They had full confidence that they would spot an impostor the second she arrived. Steed was not convinced of their great powers of perception.
A day before the lady secret agents were supposed to arrive at the estate, a black Mercedes pulled up in the drive. Steed had been fixing his tie in his room upstairs and noticed through his window that the car had arrived. Immediately, a sinking feeling filled his stomach. Everyone knew that evil agents rode black cars, while good spies drove most everything else.
Slowly, he edged down the stairs where Mother and Charles were already waiting in the front hall. The woman burst in, her hair a flaming scarlet, her eyes emerald green, her teeth pearly white, and her skin soft and flawless.
The hair's got to be a dye or a wig, Steed mused. Redheads are prone to freckles, so how could she possibly have no blemishes at all? Then it dawned on him: This woman is an enemy agent, trying to alter appearance so we won't recognise her! She's going to kill me if and when we're alone, probably tonight! I am, after all, the greatest British spy.
Steed sped to the SPYbrary, where all the books on undercover agents were stored. He skimmed through the enemy spies, trying to find a picture of the woman out in the hallway, perhaps with different hair or eye colour. He was having no luck; he hoped his superiors would see through her disguise.
The woman smiled a snake like grin, the grin a serpent uses before lashing out on its prey. She slithered over to Mother and Charles, handing them her map. "I'm Loretta Paine."
They consulted their lists. Yes, Loretta Paine was one of the women they had invited. She worked for America, and this redhead in front of them did have an American accent. "Welcome, dear lady," Mother began, but Charles interrupted him.
"Why are you a day early?"
The woman gave a slippery smile before replying, "The airport could either get me on a plane yesterday, or three days from now. I decided I'd rather be early than late. Now do I get my room?"
She seemed too eager for Mother's liking, and too evil for Charles' taste. The two sombrely nodded their heads before escorting her and her chauffer downstairs to the makeshift prison.
When Steed re-entered the hall with a heavy volume, he could hear the screaming of the strange woman coming from below. He breathed a sigh of relief; Mother and Charles had discovered she was a fake. He wondered how many more spies would be enemies. He glanced at the book in his hands, which was opened to the picture of the redhead, except her hair was pale yellow and her eyes were icy blue.
"She was a Russian with a pseudo-American accent. How clever!" Mother exclaimed as he came in.
"Mother, I've been thinking," Steed began, "if we our nemesis' keep sneaking in, we'll never find the right woman for me. After all, a female agent may pass all the tests, yet be our enemy; and we'll never realise it until we end up dead."
"From now on, anyone driving a black vehicle is strictly forbidden from entering this building," Mother declared, as if it that would rectify the problem.
Discouraged but not completely daunted, Steed marched back to his room. He'd think of a way to stop this infernal testing, even if he had to commit high treason. He would not be thrown on just any lady.
Chapter Four
The next day, two hundred and fifty female spies arrived at the hideaway. Nineteen were disposed of after Mother and Charles noticed they came in a black vehicle. These women were all placed in the prison, so they couldn't tell the location of Steed. He was priceless commodity.
Eighty-six were transported to the basement after Charles, Mother, and several workers discovered they had arrived in Volkswagen, or any other foreign car. Proper British and Americans drove the cars that were made in their own country. Patriotism proved that they were loyal-but they could be lying, Steed told himself.
After that, one hundred and forty-five remained. These were taken to various rooms, where workers, male and female, measured the spies. If the ladies were too short compared to Steed's six-foot odd frame, or too plump, they were politely asked to leave. Eighty gorgeous girls were left after this procedure was done. Unbeknownst to them, they had just passed the first test.
*************
Trudy Peel had decided on a way to dispose of her daughter-in-law. She would take Mrs. Emma deep into the woods where no one would find them unless he or she was an expert on the land. Then Trudy would smash Emma's delicate skull so hard, she would die. If anyone found the body, they would merely assume she'd fallen and hit her head on a rock.
Mrs. Trudy wasted no time in inviting her daughter on a leisurely picnic. At first, Emma had been suspicious of her usually cantankerous mother-in-law's good-natured behaviour, but she concluded that Trudy must have been earning for company. After all her boy had died, leaving her no alternative than to socialize or be alone the rest of her years.
So Emma willingly agreed to join Trudy for a picnic. She attired herself in long black, leather pants that would keep her warm and protect her legs from any insect bites. For her shirt, she chose a plain, white turtleneck, which she covered with a wool coat. On her head was a thick, wool hat with a black and white pattern that resembled a target.
When the women set off, the sun was blazing, and the sky was a brilliant azure. They forced smiles unto their faces and managed to have a decent conversation on the mild weather. As they approached the forest, Trudy gave a sincere grin to Emma. Soon, the annoying woman would be dead!
They treaded through the damp, dark forest for nearly an hour until they were deep in the heart of it. There the two spread out blankets on the floor of the woods, which was already covered with layers of soft moss. The ladies began the formal festivities of eating. There was cucumber, watercress and egg sandwiches; recently made shepherd's pies; fresh apples that had been cooling in the underground pantry; and strawberry rhubarb tarts. To drink was the very best champagne, selected by Emma Peel herself, a connoisseur of fine wine.
The duo ate silently until they were full, and then Trudy made the excuse that she was going to rest a while under a tree. She crept away, searching for a large stone to hit Emma over the head with. Alas, she only found a handful of small stones, not small enough to be pebbles but not large enough for her purposes. As Trudy Peel watched Emma collect the silverware and leftover food and place them in the picnic basket, a growl escaped from deep within her throat. In a rage she grabbed the nearest object, the champagne bottle, and sent it crashing down on Mrs. Emma Peel's head.
Emma slumped forward, her body crumpling on top of one of the tarts. Strawberry smeared the front of her wool jacket, while champagne gushed down the back. The two food items would forever stain it. Trudy waited for the insolent girl to pop up and demand what had come over her, but Emma appeared to be dead.
Trudy quickly removed shards of glass from the young woman's coat and buried all the incriminating evidence in the soil. She then searched every cranny of the woods for a large enough stone to place by Emma Peel in an attempt to make the murder look like an accident. In the end, she found one, grabbed it, planted it deep in the ground next to Emma, and placed the woman's head on top of it. Trudy smiled as she saw a trickle of blood escape from underneath Emma's cap.
It was at this moment that she glanced up at the sky through the foliage. The sky was growing grey with thunderheads; Mrs. Trudy could not linger any longer. She panicked when she saw the food stains on the jacket, but realised that the impending rain would wash it all away. Satisfied with her work, Mrs. Trudy Peel grabbed the picnic basket and headed out of the woods.
She exited the forest as the first raindrop fell. She made it back to her farm as the light drizzle turned into a torrential downpour.
In the woods where the rain was pouring through the trees, Emma's body remained motionless. Water spattered her pale face, and a mixture of strawberry, champagne, and blood flowed off her clothing unto the dirt.
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~
The plans for the agent tests were completed the following morning. Since his superiors wanted his approval, Steed had to review the lists. There were eight tests in all, and he hated every single one, especially the last-the test that would decide who was a real spy.
"All I want is Emma Peel," he muttered to himself as he passed the plans back to Mother and Charles' eager hands. Aloud, he said, "The tests are fine," and he gave one of his false smiles.
An interesting idea occurred to him. "Hey, can't the ladies cheat on the tests? They could practise at home, and when they arrive they will ace through all of them."
"They don't even know there's going to be a series of tests!" Mother crowed.
"They just think that we're going to examine them for a day, and you are going to choose one of them at the end!" Charles.
Mother added, "By the time they realise they're being tested, all they can do is wait for the next one."
"But the tests will be so subtle, the women won't know what is a test and what isn't," Charles finished.
John Steed's superiors had thought of everything, curse them.
In order to get to the special headquarters, maps were sent out to all the eligible lady spies. There was always a chance an enemy agent would get hold of a map, but this did not concern the unflappable Mother and Charles. They had full confidence that they would spot an impostor the second she arrived. Steed was not convinced of their great powers of perception.
A day before the lady secret agents were supposed to arrive at the estate, a black Mercedes pulled up in the drive. Steed had been fixing his tie in his room upstairs and noticed through his window that the car had arrived. Immediately, a sinking feeling filled his stomach. Everyone knew that evil agents rode black cars, while good spies drove most everything else.
Slowly, he edged down the stairs where Mother and Charles were already waiting in the front hall. The woman burst in, her hair a flaming scarlet, her eyes emerald green, her teeth pearly white, and her skin soft and flawless.
The hair's got to be a dye or a wig, Steed mused. Redheads are prone to freckles, so how could she possibly have no blemishes at all? Then it dawned on him: This woman is an enemy agent, trying to alter appearance so we won't recognise her! She's going to kill me if and when we're alone, probably tonight! I am, after all, the greatest British spy.
Steed sped to the SPYbrary, where all the books on undercover agents were stored. He skimmed through the enemy spies, trying to find a picture of the woman out in the hallway, perhaps with different hair or eye colour. He was having no luck; he hoped his superiors would see through her disguise.
The woman smiled a snake like grin, the grin a serpent uses before lashing out on its prey. She slithered over to Mother and Charles, handing them her map. "I'm Loretta Paine."
They consulted their lists. Yes, Loretta Paine was one of the women they had invited. She worked for America, and this redhead in front of them did have an American accent. "Welcome, dear lady," Mother began, but Charles interrupted him.
"Why are you a day early?"
The woman gave a slippery smile before replying, "The airport could either get me on a plane yesterday, or three days from now. I decided I'd rather be early than late. Now do I get my room?"
She seemed too eager for Mother's liking, and too evil for Charles' taste. The two sombrely nodded their heads before escorting her and her chauffer downstairs to the makeshift prison.
When Steed re-entered the hall with a heavy volume, he could hear the screaming of the strange woman coming from below. He breathed a sigh of relief; Mother and Charles had discovered she was a fake. He wondered how many more spies would be enemies. He glanced at the book in his hands, which was opened to the picture of the redhead, except her hair was pale yellow and her eyes were icy blue.
"She was a Russian with a pseudo-American accent. How clever!" Mother exclaimed as he came in.
"Mother, I've been thinking," Steed began, "if we our nemesis' keep sneaking in, we'll never find the right woman for me. After all, a female agent may pass all the tests, yet be our enemy; and we'll never realise it until we end up dead."
"From now on, anyone driving a black vehicle is strictly forbidden from entering this building," Mother declared, as if it that would rectify the problem.
Discouraged but not completely daunted, Steed marched back to his room. He'd think of a way to stop this infernal testing, even if he had to commit high treason. He would not be thrown on just any lady.
Chapter Four
The next day, two hundred and fifty female spies arrived at the hideaway. Nineteen were disposed of after Mother and Charles noticed they came in a black vehicle. These women were all placed in the prison, so they couldn't tell the location of Steed. He was priceless commodity.
Eighty-six were transported to the basement after Charles, Mother, and several workers discovered they had arrived in Volkswagen, or any other foreign car. Proper British and Americans drove the cars that were made in their own country. Patriotism proved that they were loyal-but they could be lying, Steed told himself.
After that, one hundred and forty-five remained. These were taken to various rooms, where workers, male and female, measured the spies. If the ladies were too short compared to Steed's six-foot odd frame, or too plump, they were politely asked to leave. Eighty gorgeous girls were left after this procedure was done. Unbeknownst to them, they had just passed the first test.
*************
Trudy Peel had decided on a way to dispose of her daughter-in-law. She would take Mrs. Emma deep into the woods where no one would find them unless he or she was an expert on the land. Then Trudy would smash Emma's delicate skull so hard, she would die. If anyone found the body, they would merely assume she'd fallen and hit her head on a rock.
Mrs. Trudy wasted no time in inviting her daughter on a leisurely picnic. At first, Emma had been suspicious of her usually cantankerous mother-in-law's good-natured behaviour, but she concluded that Trudy must have been earning for company. After all her boy had died, leaving her no alternative than to socialize or be alone the rest of her years.
So Emma willingly agreed to join Trudy for a picnic. She attired herself in long black, leather pants that would keep her warm and protect her legs from any insect bites. For her shirt, she chose a plain, white turtleneck, which she covered with a wool coat. On her head was a thick, wool hat with a black and white pattern that resembled a target.
When the women set off, the sun was blazing, and the sky was a brilliant azure. They forced smiles unto their faces and managed to have a decent conversation on the mild weather. As they approached the forest, Trudy gave a sincere grin to Emma. Soon, the annoying woman would be dead!
They treaded through the damp, dark forest for nearly an hour until they were deep in the heart of it. There the two spread out blankets on the floor of the woods, which was already covered with layers of soft moss. The ladies began the formal festivities of eating. There was cucumber, watercress and egg sandwiches; recently made shepherd's pies; fresh apples that had been cooling in the underground pantry; and strawberry rhubarb tarts. To drink was the very best champagne, selected by Emma Peel herself, a connoisseur of fine wine.
The duo ate silently until they were full, and then Trudy made the excuse that she was going to rest a while under a tree. She crept away, searching for a large stone to hit Emma over the head with. Alas, she only found a handful of small stones, not small enough to be pebbles but not large enough for her purposes. As Trudy Peel watched Emma collect the silverware and leftover food and place them in the picnic basket, a growl escaped from deep within her throat. In a rage she grabbed the nearest object, the champagne bottle, and sent it crashing down on Mrs. Emma Peel's head.
Emma slumped forward, her body crumpling on top of one of the tarts. Strawberry smeared the front of her wool jacket, while champagne gushed down the back. The two food items would forever stain it. Trudy waited for the insolent girl to pop up and demand what had come over her, but Emma appeared to be dead.
Trudy quickly removed shards of glass from the young woman's coat and buried all the incriminating evidence in the soil. She then searched every cranny of the woods for a large enough stone to place by Emma Peel in an attempt to make the murder look like an accident. In the end, she found one, grabbed it, planted it deep in the ground next to Emma, and placed the woman's head on top of it. Trudy smiled as she saw a trickle of blood escape from underneath Emma's cap.
It was at this moment that she glanced up at the sky through the foliage. The sky was growing grey with thunderheads; Mrs. Trudy could not linger any longer. She panicked when she saw the food stains on the jacket, but realised that the impending rain would wash it all away. Satisfied with her work, Mrs. Trudy Peel grabbed the picnic basket and headed out of the woods.
She exited the forest as the first raindrop fell. She made it back to her farm as the light drizzle turned into a torrential downpour.
In the woods where the rain was pouring through the trees, Emma's body remained motionless. Water spattered her pale face, and a mixture of strawberry, champagne, and blood flowed off her clothing unto the dirt.
~*~ To Be Continued ~*~