In 26

Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement intended.

Emily

"Now, then, gentlemen, if you'll turn to the chart on page fifteen…"

Gambit, who had read the whole of the document he had been given during the long and somewhat rambling introduction given by one of the bureaucrats, had been anticipating the page reference and was already there. He allowed himself a small, internal smile at the equally small victory. It was about the only thrill he'd had over the past hour. One of the many things he'd learned during his time at the Ministry was that meetings like this one were more or less the same regardless of which country, which government, or which spy agency was hosting them: Britain, Germany, France, the United States, or, as in this case, Canada. They all took place in the same non-descript boardrooms, around the same type of long, dark polished wood conference tables, with the same cluster of water pitchers and half-picked at bowls of scones or fruit in the centre, and the same padded chairs that creaked or squeaked in equal measure. It didn't matter what the topic was, it all felt the same. This time around, as it happened, the subject was the introduction of a new North American security protocol. Gambit had absorbed everything he needed to know from the document, and the speakers had yet to come up with anything novel, so he had settled into a pleasant sort of boredom, counting the minutes until dinner and freedom.

Steed was actually the one who had been invited to attend this meeting, but said invitation had been extended when the senior agent was already deeply embroiled in running the undercover operation to catch the notorious double agent "the Fox". Purdey was already undercover in the Fox's organization, so Steed had volunteered Gambit to travel the short distance from Toronto to Ottawa to take in the meeting in his stead. Steed had tried to dress it up in the sort of language that made out that Gambit taking on these responsibilities was part of the ongoing process of Steed passing the mantle to the younger man. Gambit didn't believe him for a minute, and knew that, the Fox be damned, Steed was about as enthusiastic about attending this meeting as Gambit was about sitting through it. Steed knew he knew it, too—he was just waiting to see whether Gambit would call him on it or not. Gambit's part of the game was deciding whether or not to do it. They'd do the dance when he got back, and if Purdey was there, she'd look heavenward and tell them they were both infuriating, and mutter something about how she preferred the company of the Fox's band of cold-blooded killers. All told, Gambit thought the bit of good-natured ribbing would round out the evening rather nicely.

The speaker had moved on from the diagram on page fifteen, and Gambit dutifully turned over the page on the dossier in front of him on the conference table. He took a sip of water, ignored the rock-hard scone he'd taken out of politeness from the pretty secretary who had offered it to him—all right, perhaps it had been out of more than politeness—and settled his gaze off into the middle distance at the very familiar picture of the Queen hanging on the opposite wall, mentally ticking off each of the permutations of the security codes that he'd already committed to memory. He was pleasantly bored.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't.

The dread washed over him without warning, came seemingly from nowhere, but was suddenly everywhere. His heart stopped and dropped into his stomach, splashing up bile that threatened to force its way up his throat and all over his dossier and that of the unfortunate man next to him. His skin prickled with sweat, and his pulse raced violently. He must have paled, too, because the pretty secretary, looked up from her notetaking and regarded him with alarm. "Mr. Gambit, are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," Gambit croaked, even though he clearly wasn't. "Excuse me for a moment," he apologised, stumbling to his feet, forcing a rictus grin across his features. "I need some air. The, uh, jet lag is starting to get to me." He beat a hasty retreat before anyone could say a word.

It was only when the door had closed behind him that the secretary said, "Jet lag? But hasn't he been in Canada for well over a week?"

The bureaucrat who had been speaking, and was clearly unhappy at being interrupted, adjusted his glasses, and said, "Our English friends are sometimes rather...eccentric. Now, moving on to the table on page seventeen…"

Out in the corridor, Gambit made a beeline for the nearest empty office with an open door. He closed it behind him and co-opted the telephone, hoping that whoever the space belonged to had taken a particularly long smoke break. He dialled eight to get an outside line, then a number from memory. It rang twice before it was picked up. "Steed."

"Steed, it's me," Gambit said curtly, skipping the formalities. "Purdey's in trouble."

"What? Has someone contacted you?"

Gambit's eyes squeezed shut. He felt a migraine coming on, and he didn't get migraines. "No, no one's contacted me. I just know. Are you at the safe house?"

"No, but Collings is. Surely if Purdey was in trouble, she'd have been late for reporting in?"

"Then it's only just happened," Gambit said brusquely. "Trust me, Steed. Get down to the safe house. She's going to need someone there, someone she can trust."

"All right," Steed acquiesced, and Gambit breathed a sigh of relief for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Steed might not understand exactly how he'd received his information, but Gambit knew the man's experience with acting on instinct had a long and storied history, and he wasn't about to tell someone else not to follow his. "I'll be in touch."

"Thanks, Steed," Gambit said gratefully, ringing off. He took a moment to compose himself before returning to the meeting.

If the wait for the end of the meeting had seemed interminable, the wait for news from Steed was absolute agony. Gambit felt as though time was not only standing still, but actually going backwards. He kept glancing surreptitiously at his watch, but the seconds passed more slowly than he could have ever thought possible. The moment the meeting broke up, he sprang to his feet, making his hurried excuses to his fellow attendees as they attempted to engage him in conversation. He dashed out into the corridor, taking the corridor in long, quick strides, determined to be on the next plane to Ottawa.

Behind him, running feet clicked their way down the corridor. "Mr. Gambit!" He turned to see the pretty secretary giving chase, waving her hands urgently. Any other time, he'd be happy to have a beautiful woman chasing him. In other circumstances, he might have asked her out. But not now. He stopped, but only for what he thought would be long enough to make his excuses.

"Mr. Gambit," the woman gasped, stopping short of crashing into him. She had actually caught him up quite quickly, and Gambit wondered distractedly if she jogged in her spare time. "I'm so glad I caught you. There's a call for you at my desk. A Mr. Steed."

Gambit didn't know if he'd ever moved so quickly in his life.

The receiver was lying abandoned on the desktop, and he snatched it up anxiously. "Is she all right?" he demanded, voice as ragged as his nerves.

"Yes, but only just," Steed confirmed. "Her cover was broken, though we're not sure how. She barely managed to escape with her life." He heard Gambit's sigh of relief down the line. "How did you know?"

"It's Purdey," Gambit said tiredly, adrenaline draining away and leaving nothing but weariness behind. "I always know."

"What an extraordinary coincidence. That's what Purdey said."

Gambit smiled wanly. "Coincidence. Right. There's a lot of that going on today."

Steed chuckled. "I won't ask how. I've been in the same situation myself more times than I care to admit." He paused, sounding thoughtful. "Shall I give her your regards, or would you rather give them to her yourself upon your return?"

"We can do both, but it doesn't matter," Gambit murmured, then smiled to himself. "She already knows. It is Purdey, after all."