An update just one week after the last one - real life hasn't thrown any obstacles in the way of writing this week, which I'm more than happy about! This chapter should answer some questions - I'll say more next time. Hope you like it.

Chapter Twelve

Penny and the rest of the captives picked at their meagre provisions, too worried about the fate of the Archbishop to really take pains to satisfy their ever-increasing hunger. Even Ken Mantle failed to finish his share, the man surprisingly - but thankfully - quiet for once.

At the gentle crackle of static from the speakers which had been fixed in the upper corners of the room, they didn't need telling twice to settle themselves around the table and await another update from the man who held them hostage.

"Lady Penelope. Gentlemen." Swayne's smug tones reverberated around the room. "I just thought I'd allay your fears about his grace. He's perfectly well, I assure you. In fact, I'm letting him go. Quinn's just getting the car started. Not the nicest night for a drive unfortunately, but luckily we've escaped the worst of the snow. Such terrible weather they've had in London-"

"Get on with it!" Mantle snapped. "We don't need a weather report."

"Charming! Still, I suppose you are under a degree of strain. I really wish you wouldn't worry yourself, sir. I'm sure when I begin negotiations with your people they'll soon have you out of here. Perhaps you could start thinking of a suitable price."

Mantle spluttered something unintelligible as Swayne continued. "Now then, I suspect that none of you believed me when I said that the Archbishop was unharmed. Perhaps you'll accept the truth from the horse's mouth, as it were. Your Grace, would you like to say a few words?"

After the briefest of pauses, the unmistakeable rich tones of the clergyman came through.

"Mr Swayne has been treating me very well. As he says, I'm perfectly alright and it does appear I'm about to be released."

"Was there a ransom?" Prince Louis asked.

"No!" Swayne's voice came through, sounding mightily scandalised at the suggestion.

"But why bother taking him in the first place if you're just going to let him go?" Simon asked.

"Because I'm a showman and this is my finest performance. What happened at Westminster Abbey will go down in history as one of the most audacious crimes of the century. But releasing the Archbishop is a sign of good faith - if you'll pardon the pun - that I'm an honourable man..."

Irving Ross and Prince Louis scoffed at this but Swayne ignored them.

"…who can be relied upon to negotiate fairly for the release of the next hostage. Although, if I'm honest, it's really to prove to all you doubters that my abilities are real. Lady Penelope, my dear, I really do appreciate your belief in me. Or at least, your belief in your man Parker. Such a good subject, I was so sorry to hear he'd... Ah, but that's not what concerns us right now, is it?"

Penny had gone white as she considered the implications of Swayne's comment, a comment she knew had been deliberately designed to scare her. It had worked too. She barely heard the rest of the man's words, didn't even register the tight squeeze of her hand by her husband. What had happened to Parker?

The others, however, clearly still didn't accept that Sebastian Swayne could do what he claimed. He let them have their say for a few moments before cutting in.

"We really don't have time to waste, I'm afraid. Your Grace, would you like to explain?"

"Mr Swayne is indeed a powerful mystic." There was nothing unusual or unnatural about the Archbishop's voice, no hint that he was reading a prepared speech or saying anything under duress. He sounded his usual self - and that was all the more disturbing. "He's convinced me beyond any doubt that such things are possible. I intend to make it quite clear to all members of the Church that far from rejecting such things as impossible, or indeed, evil, we should accept them and venerate those who hold such powers."

"Oh, come on," Irving Ross spat. "Alastair, you're really expecting people to believe this? After you've been kidnapped? They'll know you're not acting of your own volition."

"And if they do suspect some form of conditioning, what better proof of my abilities?" Swayne's voice had an edge to it that had been missing before. "Can't you see that either way I win?"

There was silence as everyone considered that.

"So, Mr Ross, does that mean you finally accept I can do what I say?" Swayne waited a good minute before laughing. "Your silence is answer enough, I think. I'll end now - I'm rather tired after all this so perhaps a nap would be in order before I make my next move. You should say your goodbyes to Alastair. Oh, and don't get your hopes up that he'll be able to give the authorities any clues as to my identity, or this location. He won't remember a thing that happened after the wedding."

"Goodbye," the Archbishop said, his voice completely calm. "I hope to see you all soon." Then he was gone, the transmission ended.

"Well," Prince Louis said, letting out a long breath. "Penny, please accept my apologies. It looks as though you were right to believe what the man said."

Irving Ross - with the additional comment that he couldn't quite believe what he was saying - echoed the prince's words.

"You're right to worry about what he can do with so many influential people in his pocket, too," Simon told her.

"Not me," Irving Ross muttered. "I'm compromised. I'd never be allowed to return to my job after this. No, national security won't be harmed. I'm just worried about what information he might get out of me. I've been trained to withstand torture, but mind control? If it's really possible... I'm worried, Penelope. Very worried."

If Simon wondered why the man's words were personally addressed to his wife, he never got the chance to follow it up. One look at the woman had him pulling her close.

"It's alright," he whispered.

"No it's not," Penny told him. "I knew Parker wouldn't hurt me, not willingly."

"I'm sorry. I should have had more faith in your judgement."

"It doesn't matter. What matters is what's happened to him since. Do you think he's..."

"He's no use to Swayne now," Mantle said brutally. "The man's got what he wanted."

"That's enough!" Simon snapped as Penny shuddered in his arms. "Perhaps you should apologise to my wife, too. You were quick enough to blame her for employing Parker in the first place."

Mantle didn't take kindly to this, jumping to his feet and relieving his feelings by shouting first at Simon, then at Prince Louis and Irving Ross when they tried to calm him, finally kicking savagely at a nearby chair before suddenly sitting down, his hand on his heart as he tried to get his rapid breathing under control.

Simon, who had always hated confrontations, was relieved to turn his attention back to his wife, who had been almost oblivious to it all as she'd pondered Parker's fate. "Penny, we have to believe -"

"Mantle!" It was Prince Louis who interrupted, his cry of alarm the signal for them to look over to the businessman. Mantle was clearly in trouble, his face a vivid shade of purple. He struggled to catch his breath as his hands frantically clutched at his chest.

Simon released Penny and moved quickly to the man's side. He was just in time to help Prince Louis catch him as he toppled forward.

"Heart?" Irving Ross asked, joining the other men.

"He complained about it often enough," the prince reminded them. Then he paled and looked up at the others. "I don't think he's breathing."

It was the head of MI5 who began CPR, calling on the first aid training he'd never before had to utilise. But even though he did the best he could, it was clear Mantle was going to need proper medical attention - and quickly.

"Swayne!" Prince Louis yelled. "If you're watching this, we need some help in here!"

Penny finally snapped into action, running to the door - she'd long since divested herself of the crippling heels she'd worn for the wedding - as the others did their best to help the stricken businessman.

"Please!" she begged as she pounded on the door. "He's dying."

Looking back, she couldn't help but let out a gasp when Simon caught her eye and shook his head. The three men, still on their knees, shuffled away from Ken Mantle who lay still and silent on the floor.

"He's gone," Irving Ross murmured.

Penny slumped against the door, barely registering the fact that footsteps could be finally be heard coming towards them. As the door was flung open she automatically moved to the side to allow her captors through.

It took her a moment to register that only one man had come into the room - well, not a man at all, really. The gawky boy who couldn't have been much more than sixteen had been in and out a few times now, entrusted only with carrying in the food whilst an older man to whom he bore a slight resemblance - his father, probably - handled the gun which had kept them all in check. But now there was no sign of anyone else and the boy was clearly terrified and out of his depth, staring as he was at Ken Mantle's body, his face pale and his body shaking.

Penny found herself moving almost before her thoughts had caught up with her actions. She might, by her own admission, have lost her edge as an agent, but now - finally - instinct and training kicked in and she shoved the startled boy away from the door. He staggered and Prince Louis immediately threw himself onto him. But the boy was stronger than he looked and he began to struggle.

Irving Ross and Simon moved to help.

"Penny, go!" Irving shot her a look that she knew well, that of a commander giving an order to a trusted subordinate. "Get help. Go on!"

Penny didn't need telling twice. Thankful that she'd lost most of her voluminous skirt, she fled up the steps and into the main part of the house, Simon's protests that it was too dangerous fading into the distance.

She wondered where the other men were, why the boy had come down alone. But as she dashed along the hallway, hoping to find a room with a telephone, she realised that at least one of Swayne's men would be out with the Archbishop, whilst Swayne himself would be taking the nap he'd claimed he so desperately needed. This boy must have been the only one left on guard. He'd no doubt have been told to stay well away from the hostages, but he'd clearly been panicked by Ken Mantle's collapse and acted on instinct. Not a very sensible thing to do under the circumstances, but in Penny's view, entirely understandable and very, very welcome.

She darted into an untidy kitchen and held her breath as someone - Swayne presumably, although the muttered curses were far removed from the genteel tones she'd heard from him previously - ran past the kitchen and down towards the cellar steps. She debated following him, hoping for a chance to knock him on the head and so save the others, but the sudden sound of a gunshot stopped her. Her heart caught as she pictured Simon being hit and she froze for a moment, desperate to find out what had happened.

She'd actually taken a few steps back towards the cellar when she saw it. The phone was mounted on the wall next to the door and Penny grabbed at it, praying that this would see an end to her ordeal.

Of course, things were never going to be that easy. The phone was dead, a strange, humming sound taking the place of a dial tone. Penny couldn't help letting out a most unladylike cry of frustration as she slammed the receiver back down.

When she heard, with the utmost relief, Swayne ordering the others to let his man go, otherwise the next shot wouldn't be fired into the ceiling, she knew she'd run out of time. There was no alternative. As the cellar door slammed shut and Swayne's voice could be heard, first berating the boy and then ordering him to find the missing hostage, she knew she had only one option.

Praying that the back door wasn't locked, she rushed over to it. It wasn't, but that was the only thing that went in her favour. The basement where she'd been kept for the past day or so might have been cold, but it was positively balmy compared to the icy blast of wind that hit her as she opened the door. Swayne hadn't been exaggerating about the bad weather. The few patches of snow that still covered the ground would soon be washed away by the driving rain. Within seconds of leaving the farmhouse she was half-frozen and completely soaked.

A car, she thought desperately. There had to be a vehicle somewhere, there just had to. Sure enough a Land Rover was parked nearby and she hurried over to it. But it was locked, and although Parker had taught her how to break into any vehicle, she knew she didn't have the time. Not when the farmhouse door was opening and Swayne was ordering the boy to get out there and find her. Ducking down behind the Land Rover, she closed her eyes in relief as he moved in the opposite direction.

It was pointless trying to escape on foot, she knew it was. She had no idea where to go and anyway, she'd probably die of hypothermia if she did actually manage to evade her pursuer. The sensible thing would be to give up and hope for another chance to escape. But Penny had been in situations like this before. There would be no further opportunities, and the consequences for this little escapade were likely to be severe. As amiable as Swayne had sounded whenever he had spoken to the captives, Penny knew that beneath that smooth exterior there was a dangerous man, one who wasn't going to appreciate being crossed. No, there was nothing to do but to turn and run.

Reaching the gate, she debated following the road, but the sound of the Land Rover starting up told her that there was no hope if she went that way; the vehicle would catch her up within seconds. No, the only possible hope of escape lay in the woods which began twenty yards or so from her current position.

Penny started to move, quickly regretting her lack of shoes. Her heels might have slowed her down, but without them her feet had numbed so quickly that she thought she might have already developed frostbite. Still, at least the cold stopped her feet from hurting too much as she stumbled along over sharp stones and thorns.

She had no idea if she was moving towards or away from any potential source of salvation. It had come as no surprise to discover that the place she'd been held in was in the middle of nowhere, but the farmhouse couldn't have been more isolated. There was no sign of civilisation in any direction. No lights, no sound of distant traffic, nothing. Actually, she couldn't hear anything at all, and the realisation that for now at least, she'd evaded her pursuers, gave her just the tiniest bit of hope.

All she could do was keep moving. But she was cold and tired and half-starved and the strong wind was threatening to push her back the way she'd come. She was running into the rain, too, and it stung her face, forcing her to close her eyes. Though that wasn't really any hindrance - it was so dark that she found herself feeling her way more than seeing it.

Several times she almost fell as she stumbled over various obstacles in her path. Not that there was an actual path to follow. Aware that her white dress made her conspicuous, she'd headed into the depths of the trees, a route that slowed her down but would hopefully hide her from anyone following. But twigs and brambles caught on her dress, forcing her to fight to push her way through. Although adrenaline kept her going long after she thought she'd collapse, she eventually did fall, though she doggedly got to her feet and moved onwards, ever more slowly.

She had no idea how much time had passed. The spark of hope she'd felt when it became clear that she'd evaded her kidnappers was long gone and now she only felt despair. She was going to die out here, she knew she was. Hypothermia had to be setting in by now - she'd stopped shivering and she knew that meant trouble. She was going to freeze to death whilst Simon and the others waited for help that was never going to arrive.

She fell again and this time, as she lay in the mud, she wondered if there was any point in trying again. Maybe she should just give up and stay where she was. But she couldn't do it. She'd changed a great deal over the past year, but suddenly she realised that there was some of the old Penny left after all.

She dragged herself to her feet. But all she could do was shuffle painfully forward for a few more metres before collapsing again. This time she couldn't get herself upright, no matter how hard she tried.

With her eyes closed, she didn't register the distant lights at first. It was only when she heard the faint sound of an engine that she realised that she'd not only reached a road, but that there was a vehicle approaching. Swayne and his henchman, she thought wearily. No point in trying to attract their attention, not when it meant certain death - and undoubtedly a more unpleasant one than she was currently facing.

At least she'd soon be reunited with Parker - she was convinced that Swayne had had him killed once he could be of no further use. But as she thought fondly of her chauffeur, Penny was suddenly reminded of one of his favourite sayings: Where there's life there's 'ope, milady! The thought was enough to give her the push she needed to get moving again. She owed it to Parker not to give up. He'd accepted her decision to turn her back on her life as an agent without complaint, but he'd never have forgiven her if she'd embraced death willingly. No, she had to keep trying.

She got wearily to her feet, somewhat surprised that her legs not only bore her weight, but had any movement left in them, and staggered forward out of the trees and onto a narrow country lane just as a car came into view. And it was a car, not a Land Rover. Whoever it was, it wasn't Sebastian Swayne. In fact, she registered with the utmost relief that the driver was a woman.

In fact, such was her relief that she sagged to the ground once again. The car slewed to a stop and within seconds the woman was at her side.

"What's going on? What happened to you? Poor thing, you're frozen."

Penny didn't have the words to explain. All she could do was clutch at the woman's coat with muddy hands and gesture feebly in the direction of the car. "Help me," she whispered.

"Of course. Come on, can you get up?"

With the woman's help, Penny managed to make it to her feet, then leaned heavily on her rescuer as she was escorted to the car.

Once she was settled in the passenger seat, the doors shut and the heaters turned up as high as they would go, the woman stared at her, her mouth falling open.

"It's you, isn't it?" she gasped. "Lady Penelope. You're all over the news."

Penny just nodded weakly. "Police," she murmured.

"Of course. Or maybe a hospital? You look terrible. Did the people who took you just dump you? Or did you escape?"

"Escaped," Penny whispered, dazed and exhausted. "Please..."

"It's just as well we got here when we did, then," the woman said, and the sudden sharp note in her voice jarred Penny into wakefulness. There was someone else in the car?

There was. From behind her, a man rose up from where he'd been hiding in the foot well.

"I knew Swayne wasn't up to the job," he said.

Penny had experienced many moments of despair over the past year, but nothing had ever hit her quite so hard as this. After everything she'd been through, after she'd accepted the inevitability of death, it seemed so unfair that she'd been given the chance of survival, that she'd allowed herself to believe that everything was going to be alright, only to have her hopes so brutally dashed. It was all too much to take and after a futile attempt to get out through the locked door, she leaned back in her seat and tried to fight the urge to weep.

"Never mind Swayne," the woman said, sounding surprisingly cheerful. "I'm rather pleased with the way things have turned out, actually. Poor old Penny. I was looking forward to our reunion anyway, but for it to happen like this..."

Penny stared at her blankly. "You know me?"

"We're old friends," the woman told her. "Well, maybe 'friends' isn't quite the right word... " She turned on the interior light, causing Penny to blink a few times before her vision settled and she could look properly at the woman she'd thought was her saviour. She'd never seen her before, she was sure of that, although there was something frighteningly familiar about her. As overwhelmed by everything as she was, it took a moment for her to realise that this woman bore more than a passing resemblance to her. If she'd had a sister, albeit one with dark hair, that sister might have looked like this. But how was this possible?

"Still not got it?" the woman asked. "I looked very different last time we met. But you inspired me, Penny. When I had to change my appearance and they asked me what kind of look I wanted, there was only one answer."

Penny shook her head weakly. A glance behind her at the man didn't help either. He'd clearly had work done too. He didn't say anything, just stared at her with a faintly predatory expression.

"I call myself 'Eve' these days," the woman went on, starting the car up again. "New name, new face, new mission. But the same resentment towards the woman who ruined everything for me."

Her accent had changed. No longer a slightly less refined version of Penny's, now it wasn't even English.

Penny couldn't say anything at first. Just a few words had been enough to bring the memories back. The most vivid was something Virgil Tracy had said as he'd spoken about a woman who had shot and almost killed him, a woman who had later ordered Scott to be savagely beaten, something Penny still had nightmares about nearly two years later.

She had such a nice voice, Virgil had said. Just a hint of a French accent...

Penny's own voice was barely a whisper as she forced herself to ask the question to which she already knew the answer.

"Sahara?"