Chapter 6
Steed gradually became aware of a steady dripping sound near his left ear. He opened his eyes, but the harsh light and a pounding headache made it difficult to focus. The sound was probably water condensing from a cooling pipe; that meant he was still at Canary Roe. As Steed tried to move, he realized several things: his hands were tied behind his back, his feet were tied before him, and he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. Then he felt the heat of skin-on-skin contact against his right side. Steed turned his head, immediately causing his nose to press against a familiar-scented tress of auburn hair. The body snuggled next to him was Mrs. Peel; her head was resting on his shoulder.
When his eyes had adjusted to the light, he could see that she was tied up and stripped down to her underwear as well; it was black satin—shiny and extremely sexy. Steed had seen her in various states of undress before, but it never failed to take his breath away or cause his heart to beat faster. Rather than struggle prematurely, he waited for Mrs. Peel to regain her senses; he passed the time admiring her flawless peach skin and the way the line of her leg flowed next to his.
Several minutes passed, and it was clear Mrs. Peel wouldn't be rousing without help. Steed was reluctant to move while she was leaning against him, afraid that she might topple over and hit her head on the hard floor. He did the only thing he could while tied up: he let his lips brush delicately against her cheek as he quietly called her name.
"Mrs. Peel? Mrs. Peel?"
She started to twitch slightly from his attentions, turning her head so that her lips fluttered against his. Even though she hadn't wakened yet, something in her subconscious spurred her to press her mouth to his in an urgent and hungry kiss.
"Steed," she moaned softly, cuddling closer to him. Steed smiled; he could tell she was still under a drug's influence to behave so wantonly. He continued to murmur his coaxings, enjoying the close contact.
Emma stirred suddenly and gave a reflexive jerk. Fully awakened, she tried to jump to her feet, ready for combat action, only to fall clumsily back against him. Her eyes sprang open as she took in her surroundings. Steed tried to calm her.
"Take it easy, Mrs. Peel," he cooed soothingly. "We're tied up."
"Damn you, Steed," she chided without anger. "You let them capture you."
Steed smiled. "Just another episode in 'The Perils of Paulina'," he said cheerily. "You seem to be having trouble staying dressed today."
"Blame our captors," Emma bristled. "You're not exactly dressed for the Royal Cotillion, either."
"I know they want to make sure we don't have concealed weapons, but this is ridiculous."
"We're supposed to be having a tryst," she said, "or so I've been told."
"I see," Steed teased, rubbing his bare leg against hers. "You 'tryst' rather nicely." His playful contact caused her to press her thighs together demurely.
"I recall you've seen me in less before," Emma observed.
"A gentleman never tells."
"According to Mistress Leov, it's all part of the tableau they want to create," she explained. "We're supposed to be lovers. You find out that I'm betraying you by working for the KGB and murder me; then in anguish for your actions, you take your own life."
Steed nodded. "The Ladja told me a similar story, only in his, I was left alive to face disgrace and the hangman's noose. He also didn't seem to know that you were the one playing Paulina."
Emma's eyes lit with fire. "You've seen The Ladja?"
"Ol' Checkers pole-axed me himself," Steed declared. "I didn't stand much of a chance against that electric shark prod. That device must have a condenser the size of the Channel." He was thoughtful for a moment. "It's interesting that The Ladja's and Leov's versions of the plan differ."
Emma shrugged. "We're already dressed for their little drama. All they need to do now is stage our deaths." She frowned. "Just what possessed that madman to think the Ministry would believe such a scenario?"
Steed was silent. Emma noticed the sudden change and became cold herself, withdrawing so that her body no longer touched his.
"What haven't you told me?" she asked.
"Something happened earlier this month," he said quietly. "When we were at Europa."
"Philo Jupiter's place? With the Tontine?"
"You left the room as Group Captain Willcombe-Smythe was dying," Steed continued. "With his last words, he told me 'Peel is a traitor.'"
Emma was silent for a moment.
"I see," she replied icily. Her eyes shot condemning daggers at him, as if he had betrayed her by not taking her into his confidence. Steed faced straight ahead so he wouldn't have to look at her directly.
"With due respect to the dead, I would have allowed the possibility that he meant your late husband; but the Group Captain said 'is', not 'was'," Steed reasoned. "Also, the files that the Ministry provided me gave no indication that Squadron Leader Peel was involved in anything shady."
"So the Group Captain must have meant me," she said simply.
"That's the way I read it. I think he said it from spite, just as a final parting shot at his undoing; but you can understand the Ministry being cautious. And when you showed up as the KGB contact with the Zagadka..."
"I hope you set them straight," Emma said curtly.
"Not yet, but I plan to."
She sighed in frustration. "So there's actually a chance The Ladja's plan could work."
"I'm afraid so."
Steed waited while Emma sat in silence a bit longer, and he knew she was passing judgment. He finally turned and looked into her eyes. Instead of the disgust he expected to see building there, he saw only warmth and forgiveness. She moved back closer and rubbed her bare shoulder against his.
"Let's get out of here," she said resolutely.
-oOo-
A large pane of one-way glass formed the wall of The Ladja's office, overlooking the main factory floor at Canary Roe. He stood next to the window, watching as the various conveyors moved tins between the vats. Forklifts were shuttling crates to and from the various warehouses.
"It's time for the final phase of Operation Zagadka," he announced.
Mistress Leov stood at attention by his side. Pyotr Pehlovich slipped his hand around her waist.
"I used the identification in Steed's wallet to reserve a hotel room in his name," he began.
Leov arched an eyebrow. "How were you able to do that?"
"Haven't you ever noticed how much Steed and I look alike?" Pehlovich asked. "Dressed in his clothes, I could easily be mistaken for him."
Leov nodded. The similarities were uncanny.
"I have prepared a packet for the Ministry," she said. "It contains pictures and recordings of Steed caressing Paulina and of her handing over the Zagadka. It will be delivered to Sir Gerald Tarrant tomorrow, anonymously, of course."
The Ladja smiled. "Then all that remains is to put the players in position," he declared. "Use your whip to paralyze Steed. I'll have a van ready to take him to the hotel, along with the dead body of the woman playing Paulina."
"She's still alive," Leov said casually.
"Oh, yes?" Pehlovich said with an evil grin. "Take care of that, will you?"
-oOo-
Emma pointed her toes and started moving her feet in opposite directions, trying to work them free of the rope around her ankles. To Steed, it seemed that with each pass, her feet were getting narrower and narrower.
"Do you think you can get free?" he asked.
"All those years of ballet will finally pay off," Emma declared. "I should be able to rotate my ankles and slip one foot out..." With a grunt of exertion, she yanked her left foot up through the loop.
Steed smiled. "You're the second-most flexible person I've seen today," he teased.
Emma arched an eyebrow. "I'll ask you later about the first." She squatted next to Steed. "Lean against me, and I'll help you into a standing position."
Steed raised himself against her. Emma started walking around the room where they were imprisoned, her hands still tied behind her back, with Steed hopping after her.
"Not so fast," he said playfully. "One-footed man here."
"King of the village of men with no feet," she joked automatically. "Nothing here sharp enough to cut anything. Want to bet that the guard has a knife?"
"I can always lure him in here," Steed grinned.
"And I can hide behind the door," she said as she bent her legs in a curtsy, then pranced over into position. Emma kicked against the door, making a rapping sound.
"Oh, guard!" Steed sang out. "These ropes seem to have come loose! Could you please come in and tighten them?"
The guard opened the door in time to see Steed hopping away. He took two steps into the room, which was enough for Emma to slam the door behind him as she sprang from her hiding place.
With a strident shout of "Aiya!", she flashed her bare foot upwards between the guard's legs and buried the instep in his crotch. Steed was still tied, so all he could contribute was a firm headbutt into the man's chest. His efforts were hardly necessary; Emma's attack had been so perfectly delivered into the vulnerable nerve plexus that the man was temporarily paralyzed, his legs giving way beneath him as he collapsed to the ground. Emma rolled the stunned man over with a toe and plopped her satin-covered rear onto his back to keep him pinned down, at the same time giving Steed a smile that was sweetness and innocence.
Steed smiled back. "I cringe every time I see you do that," he said wryly.
"Not nearly as much as the recipient, I wager," she observed smugly. "A kin-geri was the best I could do with only my feet free. Search his pockets for something to cut these ropes."
Steed hopped over next to her and groped around behind his back at the guard's belt. No need to check the pockets; there was a knife in a sheath on the right side. He quickly cut his bonds, then Emma's. The guard was starting to stir again. Steed reknotted some of the cut ropes and tied the guard's feet.
"Don't tie his hands yet," Emma said. She reached forward and pulled the guard's turtleneck sweater off while he was still too dazed to put up any resistance. Steed finished tying the guard's wrists while Emma donned the sweater and rolled up the sleeves; it was large enough that it fit her like a minidress.
Steed peeked out the door to make sure it was all clear. "Now we just fight our way out of Canary Roe and bring the cavalry," he said.
Emma's eyes blazed. "I'm going after The Ladja. You get help."
"We tried that once before," Steed admonished her mildly. "This time we're sticking together. Strength in numbers, that sort of thing?"
Emma sighed. "Very well," she conceded. "Stay behind me."
Steed gave her a teasing smile. "You always get to lead going into danger. Why can't I lead?"
Emma shrugged. "Whatever you say," she offered. "But you'll need to be extra careful, Steed."
"Why is that?"
"Mistress Leov likes to hurt men."
He arched an eyebrow. "Emotionally?"
"Physically."
"I was afraid you were going to say that."
"The end of her whip is impregnated with a paralysis drug, and the spike points on her stiletto heels are dipped in fast-acting poison," Emma continued. "If she gets hold of you, she'll make what I did to that guard look like a friendly handshake."
"So you're saying she'll try to paralyze me with her whip, poison me with her spike heel shoes, and if all else fails, strangle me with her bare hands—all because I'm a man?"
"Something like that."
"Perhaps you better lead after all, Mrs. Peel."
She smiled. "My pleasure."
The two of them crept down the access corridor, twice ducking behind pipes to avoid a passing workman. After only a few minutes, a cry went up; someone had found the tied guard and was alerted to the escape.
"This way," Emma said gruffly as she led Steed towards the finished portion of the plant. "My suite of rooms overlooks a section of the roof with a ladder leading down. It should be safer than trying to walk out the front door." She turned a corner and stopped.
Steed nearly ran into the back of Emma, then caught sight of the obstacle barring their path.
It was a voluptuous woman dressed head-to-toe in leather, with laces in strategic locations to reveal an indecent amount of skin. Her hair was tinted auburn, pulled back and braided into a ponytail. Stiletto-heeled boots and a whip completed her ensemble. The woman looked as if someone had purposely tried to create a perverse caricature of Mrs. Peel with an exaggerated chest and sumptuous hips in a decadent leather bodysuit. From the description he had been given, this must be Mistress Leov. He was wary of the weapon she held in her right hand, remembering the paralyzing agent it contained.
Leov took a step forward. "Going somewhere?" she asked.
Emma was quiet, watching for an opportunity. Before any could occur, a group of a dozen henchmen appeared carrying guns. The Mistress motioned for them to lead Steed away. Leov smirked at Emma.
"Now it's time for me to put my plan into action."
-oOo-
Mistress Leov had joined Pyotr Pehlovich, The Ladja, at the one-way glass in his office. She gestured down to the factory floor where two guards were leading an auburn-haired woman in black satin lingerie toward the gas-packaging station.
"There's your Paulina," she smirked.
The Ladja was too stunned for anger. "That's my wife!" he stammered.
"Don't you see the beauty of it?" the Mistress purred. "If the dead body is a stranger, there may be some doubt, however small, that Steed isn't guilty." She tenderly stroked Pehlovich's arm. "But since it's the woman he's worked with for the past six months, it instantly becomes more believable. Steed killed her in a fit of passion for her betrayal. It's only natural that he should then take his own life."
The Ladja was silent.
She continued, "My plan accomplishes the same disgrace and death as yours, but without any of the uncertainties of the British legal system."
"You're proposing that I should kill my own wife, just to get back at Steed," he charged.
Leov gave him a look of stern reproach. "This will help you sever all ties with the past," she announced. "Then we can get on with our life together."
The Ladja seemed unwilling to accept her logic. Then an evil smile tugged at his mouth.
"There is no need for Emma's body to be found with Steed's," he said simply.
Mistress Leov was quiet. The Ladja continued.
"Originally, the woman was to be found dead and Steed would face the hangman," he mused. "But now, we can kill Steed, making it look like suicide, and Emma can escape with me behind the Iron Curtain."
Leov's eyes were afire.
"I don't know why you still cling to your wife," the Mistress snapped. "She's a skinny, inept bed-partner who loves Steed more than she ever loved you."
The Ladja didn't seem to hear her invective. "It's brilliant!" he exclaimed. "The Ministry is now convinced that Emma is a KGB operative. Her life here in England is over." He turned and grabbed Leov by the forearm. "I can swoop in and rescue her—I'll say that I have some friends in Moscow, that we can defect together, to save her life." His eyes lit up. "I will make the supreme sacrifice."
Leov's voice was dangerous. "And what about me?" she fired back.
A lecherous grin crossed Pyotr's face.
"I'll always have need of a Mistress."
-oOo-
The guard's sweater had been returned to its owner, so Emma was once again reduced to her underwear. She was escorted into a large workroom filled with industrial machinery. Leg shackles were fastened around her ankles, connected by several feet of welded metal links to a bolt set in the concrete floor. Emma yanked vigorously on the chain to test its strength; it would not be yielding to her efforts anytime soon. The guards filed out of the room, leaving her unattended.
A small glass-walled booth was several feet away, just out of her reach. Its interior was dark. She heard the static of a loudspeaker, and an electronically-distorted voice echoed through the room.
"Gas-packaging is very important to preserving the taste of caviar," the voice explained. A light came on to illuminate the inside of the booth; Steed was huddled against one wall, still in his boxers.
"Oxygen can breed bacteria that can spoil the taste," the voice continued. "That is why all of the air is pumped out and replaced with an inert gas—in this case, argon."
Emma recognized something familiar about the cadence of the voice. There was a sudden clunk of an electric starter, followed by the whir of a motor.
"Sadly, Steed is unable to breathe argon," the voice concluded malevolently.
Emma scrambled across the floor towards the glass wall. At her farthest extent, she could barely touch the surface with the tips of her fingernails. She started casting about the area reachable by the chain, looking for a projectile to break the glass. The guards had been careful to remove any loose objects.
Steed was leaning against the glass, looking at her. Emma wasn't sure if it was already the lack of oxygen inside or the thickness of the wall, but it was effectively soundproof. She watched in horror as Steed moved his lips, trying to communicate something to her.
The loudspeaker came to life again. "Mistress Leov felt it was important for you to see your lover suffocate before your eyes," the voice declared. "Frankly, I agree with her; it will give you closure."
Emma's normal composure crumbled. "You sadists!" she screamed in desperation. She began to yank against the chain like an enraged mastiff.
The loudspeaker shut off, and the room was suddenly quiet except for the sound of the pump churning away. Steed turned and winked at her, once. Then he collapsed lifelessly to the floor of the chamber.
"No!" Emma cried.
A lone tear trickled down her cheek as she crawled as close to the booth as she could get, minutely observing his body for any motion whatsoever, any sign of respiration. A minute passed. He was completely still.
Steed was dead.
-oOo-