Chapter 8
The service corridor at the caviar-packing plant, Canary Roe, was unwatched. That was just as well, because any observer would have raised an immediate alarm at the sight of the two figures sneaking down the hallway. Emma was moving stealthily on the tips of her toes, fully dressed in her leathers and boots; and behind her was the freshly-resurrected Steed, walking with a slow and dignified gait, barefoot in his boxers and a turtleneck sweater. He carried the long electric prod crosswise on his chest.
They came to the double doors leading to the finished section of the factory. Emma eased one of them open with her foot, then poked her head through the opening. The area was empty. She turned to Steed and grinned at his appearance.
"I thought you never carry weapons," she said.
"Even if I had no intention of using this, I'd bring it along so that I'm not on the receiving end again," Steed remarked wryly. "Twice is enough for one lifetime."
"But you're on your second life now," she teased. Emma moved down the carpeted hall until she came to a richly-furnished office. One entire wall consisted of a window that overlooked the main plant floor. Steed pulled up beside her.
"This must be The Ladja's personal control room," he announced.
Emma nodded. "But where is our diabolical mastermind?" She gave the office a cursory search. Her face lit up when she spied a pile next to the desk.
"I have a present for you, Steed." She smiled as she handed him his shirt, coat, trousers, socks, and shoes. He solemnly took the articles and gave her a wounded look.
"No hat or brolly?" he asked.
"Sorry," she offered. "That's all there is." Emma faced away while he dressed because it was the proper thing to do, in spite of the fact that he had been reduced to his underwear in her presence for the past several hours.
After a minute, Steed tapped her shoulder and she turned back around. He was once again his dapper self, though minus his trademark accessories. Emma moved closer and fastidiously straightened his tie.
"You don't look half bad for a dead man," she mused.
Steed smiled. "I'll have to thank my guru."
-oOo-
The guard staggered groggily down the hallway, hunched over as he fought the nausea in his lower abdomen. He approached a well-dressed man with ice-blue eyes wearing a bowler; next to him was an auburn-haired woman clad in a tight leather bodice and slacks. As if the guard had found the walk too taxing, he collapsed to the floor at the woman's feet. She scowled at his weakness.
"Your men are not used to dealing with superior women," Mistress Leov smirked. "Particularly ones who know how to kick, and where."
"Idiots!" The Ladja hissed. "All I ask is for them to transport one woman to a cell."
The Mistress gave a shrug. "Let your wife go. We're well rid of her."
"Have you forgotten?" The Ladja countered. "She can provide evidence of Steed's innocence."
"Steed is dead," Leov declared. "Isn't that enough?"
"No. I want him dishonored. Like Profumo." The Ladja grabbed her forearm. "Don't forget, Emma can also provide evidence of your guilt in Steed's death."
Leov sighed in annoyance. "Very well. What do we do?"
"Have the workers block all of the exits and patrol the grounds. If my wife tries to escape, she is to be captured, not harmed."
Leov glanced contemptuously at the guard who was curled on the floor with both hands pressed to his groin.
"With your men," she announced, "that may not be as easy as it sounds."
-oOo-
Emma and Steed lurked behind a row of pipes on the main plant floor. Only one guard was pacing the entire area, easily eluded. Steed poked his head out, keeping the electric prod at the ready, and checked the access corridor.
"All gone," he observed. "But to where?"
"Probably out searching for me," Emma offered. "Blocking all the exits, since they're sure that's where I'm headed."
"Undoubtedly," Steed agreed. "After all, only a crazy person would head right back into the lion's den." He grinned. "Er—why are we headed back into the lion's den?"
A smile tugged at the corner of Emma's mouth. "I want to cause some mayhem first."
Steed returned the smile. "You mean, in excess of your usual amount?"
"Precisely."
They started moving together across the floor in a series of overlapping runs, taking cover behind the stainless-steel vats. Eventually, they both made it to the gas-packaging station. Steed pressed against Emma's shoulder and indicated a heavy-duty electric motor with several hoses leading from it.
"Is that what I think it is?"
"One of the pumps that nearly did you in? Yes."
"I wonder if it works both ways," he mused.
"Oh?" Emma prompted.
"Suppose we were to uncouple the hoses, switch them, and connect it to that vat of caviar over there," Steed offered. "Instead of removing the air to gas-package it, it would pump in air from outside to pressurize it."
Emma's eyes lit up. "How much pressure do you think a vessel like that can take?"
"Before the pump gives out?" Steed grinned. "Let's find out, shall we?"
He found a nearby spanner and reconnected the hoses. Emma's sharp eyes spotted a pressure-relief valve on the side of the vat. She took the spanner from Steed and crimped the valve shut.
The motor was hardly audible amid the sounds of the other machinery as Steed switched it on. Within seconds, the access hatches on the vat were rattling against their hinges. The doors had simple gaskets, only designed to take an extra atmosphere or two of pressure.
"How long?" Emma asked.
Steed checked the pressure gauge on the pump. "Maybe three minutes."
She nodded. "While that's bound to coat everything on the main floor with fish eggs, I'd like to do some more permanent damage." She pressed her cheek next to Steed's. "Where does this caviar come from?"
"They probably ship in sturgeons from the Baltic Sea, stored at minus twenty centigrade," he offered. "After thawing, the eggs can be harvested fresh and sent to the tickle the palates of bluebloods all across the United Kingdom."
"The bluebloods will have to look elsewhere next week," she smirked. "It must take a lot of refrigeration to keep things that cold. They'd need power—maybe too much to be wired in. I'm willing to bet there's a diesel generator around here somewhere. That means fuel."
"Could take a while to search for it," Steed countered.
Emma pointed to a central terminus of conduits that had a row of circuit breakers along the front. "If we short out that main junction box, it could easily cause a fire that might reach the fuel."
"I wouldn't want to be near when that happens," he said. "Philo Jupiter's lightning generator would look tame by comparison."
Emma grinned as she held out her arms expectantly. Steed looked confused for a moment, then grinned back. He handed her the electric prod.
She used her toe to pull a wheeled cart over, careful not to alert the guard. Then she set the prod on the cart and turned the dial up to full. It hummed like a hornet's nest as she wheeled it near the open junction box, less than an inch from contact.
"When the vat goes," she explained, "it will push the end of that thing into the breaker panel, shorting out something—maybe everything. It should cause a variety of electrical fires." She checked the gauge on the pump; the pressure in the vat was increasing sharply. There was no longer any need for secrecy.
"Let's go!" Emma shouted.
She sprang from cover and ran for the side door with Steed trotting quickly behind. The guard tried to block their exit, but Emma launched into a spin kick that sent him reeling to the floor. Then she grabbed the man by the collar and dragged him out through the door, Steed assisting her with the feet.
"What's a safe distance?" Emma called back as they ran across the macadam lot.
"Brighton?" Steed offered. They reached the edge of the parking area and stopped, turning to look at the building just as a loud boom sounded.
Emma snickered impolitely as all of the windows went opaque, covered with a blackish substance that was slowly oozing down the panes. Then a second noise reached their ears: a massive explosion that rocked the ground. A hole opened up in the roof of the factory, and sparks and flames shot out into the clear London night.
Steed slipped his arm around Emma's waist as she leaned back against him to watch the fireworks. She covered his hand with hers.
"Most satisfactory," she declared smugly.
-oOo-
The boom echoed through the corridors of Canary Roe. Leov's eyes widened.
"What was that?" she shouted over the sudden din.
The Ladja started to head back for the main factory floor, then retreated when the fire alarms went off.
"Emma," he said with certainty.
"That one scrawny woman, did all this?"
Pehlovich narrowed his eyes. "Hanging around with Steed these past months seems to have unlocked some latent power within her." He took Mistress Leov by the arm.
"Time to execute our own escape plan."
-oOo-
"So much for Canary Roe," Emma sighed with satisfaction. "Can you spot any fleeing fish?"
The doors to the factory had been thrown open and workers were flooding out into the nearby field. Emma noticed the guard she had defeated earlier, still in his undershirt; he hadn't managed to reconnect with his turtleneck. There was no sign of another woman dressed in leather like herself, or anyone wearing a mask with a chessboard design.
Steed suddenly became alarmed as he watched the building burn. Mrs. Peel's mayhem was looking more and more like it might result in the total destruction of the plant—including the Zagadka inside.
"I have to go back in," he announced.
"What?" Emma shouted, tugging on his waist to hold him back. "Are you crazy?"
Steed shook his head. "I can't return without that decoder machine, even if it means my life."
"Why?"
"I'll explain later," he said.
Emma smirked. She had no intention of allowing Steed to return to the inferno; she steadfastly maintained her grip on his waist. If necessary, she could quickly slip her arm around his neck and administer a sleeper hold.
The sounds of muffled explosions within the building almost obscured a low, thunderous rumble that was growing from the dock area near the Thames. Steed and Emma turned at the same time towards the railway tracks that paralleled the river. A diesel locomotive, a large British-Thompson Houston engine, was starting to gather speed as it pulled away from the doomed plant.
The figure running the engine was too far away to be discernible, but the woman hopping onto the brake van at the end of the train was easily identified: a buxom woman clad in black leather, carrying a small case. Steed's eyes lit up at the sight of the decoder. Emma's body tensed up in her leathers.
"There they are!" she shouted. "They're getting away!" Emma had a look of grim determination as she took off at a dead run to intercept the moving train. Steed was caught flat-footed and couldn't keep up.
"Mrs. Peel!" he called after her.
"The devil take the hindmost!" she shouted back to him.
He watched as she made a prodigious leap into the open door of a boxcar in the middle of the train. Steed had resigned himself to being abandoned when her hand came out of the opening, grasped his wrist, and heaved him bodily up into the van. Emma fell over backward and he landed sprawled on top of her. They lay together for a moment as they tried to catch their breath.
"I'm not your cushion," Emma panted as she wriggled beneath him.
"I'm terribly sorry," he said in feigned apology. "I thought you were going to leave me behind."
She gave his waist an affectionate squeeze. "Never," she said. "I'll need someone to help me tie up these two after I've finished with them." Emma took the hand that he offered as they stood up together and went over to look out through the open door. Across the Thames they could see the lights of Woolwich.
"Where do you think this line leads?" she asked.
"Perhaps not far," Steed observed. "I'm afraid this one might have gotten the Beeching Axe. Maybe we should wait until we reach our destination?"
Emma eyed the ladder leading up the exterior surface of the car. "And have them escape by jumping off en route? Not on your life." She swung out onto the ladder and started climbing to the roof of the van. Steed followed with the wind whipping at his clothes. They reached the top and crouched together on the galvanized steel roof.
"Ride the new British Rail," Steed said jovially.
Emma was studying the nearby cars. "I think we can travel along the tops of these vans."
Steed nodded. "I'll take the front, you take the back," he suggested. "We'll meet back here in the middle."
Emma started to protest. Surely, The Ladja was the man running the engine, and she desperately wanted another shot at her nemesis. But Steed would be hesitant to fight Mistress Leov with the intensity needed to defeat her, and since he had just been murdered by the diabolical mastermind, he technically had the stronger claim. She reluctantly nodded agreement.
"Take your time," Emma replied breezily. "When I'm finished with the Mistress, I'll come forward to join you. Make sure you save some of The Ladja for me."
-oOo-