Brazil
by J. Ferguson a.k.a. Timeless A-Peel
Disclaimer: I don't own The New Avengers, nor the characters of Mike Gambit, Purdey, and John Steed. Sadly. They're the property of The Avengers (Film and TV) Enterprises. Emma Peel is the property of Canal+Image. This story is for entertainment purposes only.
Timeline: Sixth in a series. Takes place in late February/early March, 1977, near the start of the second season, probably shortly after the events of Hostage and the year-later bits of Gnaws and The Last of the Cybernauts...? It is strongly recommended, but not essential, that you go back and read the previous stories in the arc, Aftermath, Dance With Me, The Anniversary, and Merry Christmas, Mr. Gambit.
For more information about the series, please see my profile.
Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Gareth Hunt, who played Mike Gambit in series. Gareth passed away 2 years ago, on March 14, 2007. Rest in Peace, Gareth.
Clearly we're nearing the end of the story, but this is by no means the final update. I've left you with a nice little cliffhanger this time round. A big thank you to everyone who's still reading. I'm going to be pretty busy for the next little while, but I promise to try and update again soon and wrap things up. In the meantime, enjoy the new chapter.
Steed and Gambit made her wait at the camp, much to Purdey's annoyance, even though her leg was really throbbing now, and her ribs had suddenly decided to join in the chorus. That didn't mean she didn't sulk when Gambit put a gun in her hand and told her to watch out for Emma, or anyone else who wasn't Emma and therefore unfriendly, before setting off with Steed and a spare tent to help set-up a dry, semi-comfortable spot where they could wait out Pym. She'd still protested as loudly as she dared, but Gambit and Steed had treated her to the sort of half-lidded gaze that told her they recognised her old stubbornness surfacing, and while it was nice to have her back, they really weren't in the mood. Gambit advised dryly to look before she shot, just in case it was them. Purdey smiled sarcastically and said she wouldn't shoot them by accident. Gambit took this with a grain of salt, and soon she was alone, and as there wasn't much point sulking at the jungle, she propped her chin in her hand and let her mind wander.
"Colt?"
The voice came from just in front of her, and her head snapped up sharply, thinking it was Steed or Gambit back for some reason, but the nickname set her off immediately. The man before her was tall and well-built, with warm blue eyes, light brown hair, and a grin a mile wide. The face was unmistakable.
Jonathan Bryde.
"Dad..." she whispered in awe, knowing full well that she was imagining things, but not caring a jot. Why shouldn't she see him? He was the reason she was here, waiting and wishing Gambit and Steed would allow her a more active role in the proceedings. She gaped at him, not daring to stand, to touch him, lest he dissolve before her eyes.
He smiled again, that warm, sweet smile that always made her feel better no matter what the circumstances. She'd needed that smile after Larry, had wept when she couldn't see it. But now... "How's my girl?"
"Oh, dad," she choked, face crumpling. "Daddy, it's been terrible here. All I can think about is you, and the jungle, and Pym." She spat the word, angry tears stinging her eyes. "And how much he took from us." She scrubbed them away, faced up to him. "You should have seen his face when he told me how he did it. He was almost gleeful, the bastard! He wanted me to know how he did it, how he sent those men after mum and me." Her nose was running, and her eyes were on fire, but she didn't care. "He has to be punished. He deserves it."
Jonathan wasn't smiling anymore, not even a bit. "What does he deserve?" he asked quietly.
Purdey's eyes were dark, her face a mask of hate. Had her father been real, he would have taken a step back. "He deserves to die," she growled, voice lower than she knew it could go, eyes burning with hatred. She looked down at her right hand, cradling the gun that Gambit had given her, and lifted it, finger tightening on the trigger. "He deserves to die the way you did, looking me in the eye."
Jonathan sucked in a breath. "Is that what you think I want?"
"It's what we both want!" Purdey screamed. "It's what everyone I care about wants! Mum, Uncle Elly..."
Jonathan was regarding her sceptically. "I think one or two names are missing off that list, don't you?" Purdey's shoulders were heaving with emotion, teeth bared like a wild animal. "You've grown so much, Purdey. I would have been so proud. You know that." She nodded. "Then you know what I really want. I didn't want anyone to get hurt, but someone did. You, your mother. Who else is going to get hurt, Purdey? And who will you blame this time?"
"I'm doing this because I love you," Purdey whispered, trying to make him understand.
Jonathan smiled again. "And that's exactly what you should do. Do what's best for the people you care about, Purdey. That will never, ever steer you wrong."
Purdey blinked in confusion. "But that's what I—"
"Purdey?"
Purdey swung around automatically, acting on instinct to bring the gun up and release the safety. The figure that had emerged from the undergrowth immediately lifted its hands in surrender.
"Hey, I'm on your side," Emma Knight quipped, tongue-in-cheek and eyebrow raised skyhigh.
Purdey snapped from her daze, and lowered the weapon, feeling anger and confusion lose themselves in embarrassment. "Sorry," she apologised, quickly putting on the safety and tucking the gun into her belt. "I'm a little jumpy."
"Well, you stopped before pulling the trigger. That's the important thing." Emma wandered into the centre of the camp and shrugged off her pack. "Gambit and Steed?"
"Off getting things ready for tonight," Purdey informed, wiping away drying tears. "We're going to split into teams."
Emma eyed Purdey's reddened face with concern. "Are you all right?"
"Yes. Um, just tired. Everything sorted with your friend?"
Emma didn't look convinced, but didn't push, either. "Yes, we'll have the cavalry, as promised. I gave them your name. They'll say it was you who contacted them and arranged things. I hope you don't mind."
"No," Purdey assured. "That's fine. You'd better get ready. They'll be back soon."
"Right." Emma nodded once, thoughtfully, before ducking into her tent. Purdey slumped in her seat. She needed to rest now. No more straining herself, not even emotionally, if she could help it. But she still couldn't help but wonder—what had her father, or herself, really, been trying to tell her?
Time passed in an instant, and before Purdey knew it, she was staring at a pair of black boots. She looked up to find Gambit staring down at her, face etched with concern. "You're back," Purdey managed.
"Yeah. You okay?" he murmured, dropping into a crouch. "You look like you've been crying."
"I'm not. I mean, I wasn't...I was thinking about my father," she admitted, and Gambit nodded in understanding.
"I know this is hard on you. Everything must remind you of him. But it'll be over soon, and you can move on. You're sure you're up for this?"
Purdey nodded determinedly. "I'm ready."
"So am I." Purdey and Gambit turned toward the voice. Emma emerged, resplendent in a midnight catsuit, finished off with her boots. Gambit's jaw dropped. Steed smiled in appreciation. Truly, it was just like old times.
"Right, then," he told the pair of younger agents. "Last meal, then onward!"
***
They settled in just as the light was beginning to fade, and watched the boulder melt slowly into the shadows. Emma, awake since dawn, settled into the back for a few winks before zero hour. After a moment, Gambit realised that things had gotten terribly quiet in the back. He glanced behind him at the other two occupants of their little hideout. Purdey and Emma were both fast asleep, Purdey's head resting on Emma's shoulder, Emma's against the untidy blonde mane. He sighed wistfully. "Something tells me I'd enjoy that a lot more if I weren't half-asleep."
Steed glanced back at the view and chuckled. "Purdey won't like that. I've a feeling she resents having Mrs. Peel along."
"She thinks she's easy to replace, at least in our eyes," Gambit pointed out. "I'd be jealous, too, if someone with a higher profile waltzed in and got on with the team so well that I might as well stay home. Not to mention she's the one filling Emma's shoes in the long line of lethal ladies." He stretched before continuing. "It's quite the legacy to live up to. I was lucky. You haven't taken on a male colleague since that doctor bloke—Keel, wasn't it?"
Steed nodded. "David Keel. Although there was a Dr. King I contacted on occasion. But you're the first in fifteen years or so." He smiled at the younger man. "And before you ask, you're doing a fine job. I clashed with the good doctor nearly as often as I did you in the early days."
"No moderating influence," Gambit commented, glancing back at Purdey.
"There was, actually. Lovely young nurse by the name of Carol Wilson." Steed smiled fondly. "I wonder what happened to her?"
Gambit whistled as quietly as possible. "You've had a good run of it. All those girls."
"Yes," Steed agreed absently.
"Have a favourite?" Gambit asked with a wicked smile.
"A gentleman never plays favourites," Steed stated in mock horror. "But I won't deny that, sometimes, there's a special case." He glanced back at the sleeping figures, and Gambit did the same.
"I know what you mean," Mike murmured.
***
An hour passed. Purdey drifted slowly into wakefulness, then snapped alert abruptly as Emma's shoulder, heretofore her pillow, slipped from beneath her. She blinked away the sleep in time to see the feline former Emma Peel stretch and yawn. "Anything?" she queried to Steed and Gambit's backs, and the latter turned round to address her.
"Not yet," Mike replied, eyebrows knitted. "I'm starting to wonder if Pym's going to show at all."
"He will," Purdey promised, crawling up to join Steed and Gambit before Emma could. "He has to."
"Well, he'd better hurry up," Gambit muttered, glancing at his luminous watch. "Our cavalry's due in half an hour, and it's going to look bloody stupid, not to mention suspicious, if there's no one there to be locked up."
"Just wait," Purdey temporised, eyes searching the darkness. "He's got too much to lose to not come."
One minute passed, then two. Gambit shifted impatiently. Emma came up to join them, resting her chin companionably on Steed's shoulder. It looked as though Pym would be a no-show after all. Purdey was ready to give up hope, when she heard the distant rumble of an engine.
"Listen!" she hissed urgently, but Steed and Emma were already on their feet.
"That's our cue," Emma whispered back. "We'll take care of Grey's men if we have to and keep an eye on the hatch."
"We'll bring up the rear," Gambit promised, winking at the shapely silhouette, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to see it. "I'd say good luck, but I don't think you've ever needed it."
Emma chuckled before disappearing into the night with Steed. Purdey and Gambit heard the sound of the trap door opening, then closing again. A minute later, the vehicle arrived, and Purdey and Gambit watched five figures dismount. One, obviously the leader, set about opening the door again—Pym. Gambit felt Purdey's body tense next to his in anticipation, breathing heavy near his ear. He rested a hand on her arm, just to remind her not to break their cover, and she calmed down considerably.
Four of the five figures started down into the tunnel, the last speaking to the man who remained behind before going underground himself. Gambit and Purdey waited half a minute to be certain that no one was going to double back, before slowly leaving their shelter. It had begun.
The man left on guard duty heard someone tramping through the foliage long before he could see him. Or her, as it turned out. A young woman melted out of the shadows, light hair shining in the moonlight. Despite his orders to shoot anyone who happened by, the guard froze in surprise. Young women were not expected in the middle of a jungle an hour before midnight, but this one seemed quite comfortable in her surroundings, and smiled cheerfully at the guard, despite the gun in his hands.
"Hello," she greeted in perfectly formed tones. "Can you help me?"
"Help?" the guard echoed faintly, feeling more bemused by the second. "How?"
"It's my friend," the woman explained. "I seem to have mislaid him. Always wandering off. Terribly annoying."
"Your…friend?"
"Yes." The woman's smile broadened. "Oh, never mind. There he is."
"Wha--?" The guard started to turn, suddenly aware of a presence behind him, but Gambit's fingers had already sought out the pressure points, and soon the guard was sinking to the ground, dreaming strange dreams about even stranger young women.
"Just a little pressure…" Purdey began.
"At the right point," Gambit finished with a grin, bending to retrieve the man's gun and removing the clip before tossing each into a separate bush. "I always feel a bit bad using you as the distraction. Poor chap never stands a chance."
"Occupational hazard," Purdey dismissed. "You never stand a chance either."
"Don't I know it," Gambit agreed, stepping over the fallen body to follow Purdey into the tunnel. "Ready?"
"I've been ready for a whole month," Purdey reminded. "Let's go."
They made their way down the tunnel in silence, stopped before the trap door to listen for anyone on the other side. Purdey found herself pressed close to Gambit in the confined space, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest against hers. Despite the earth surrounding them, she could smell his scent, and a calm washed over her. Here, alone, in the dark, Pym didn't seem to matter so much. With just her and Mike and the dark, and she felt safe, at home. She wondered vaguely if her mouth brushed against his if he'd interpret it as an accident or intentional, and if he'd reciprocate either way. And if he'd be willing to accept it as an early apology for what would eventually come. But suddenly he was reaching over her shoulder to hit the button, and the whirring kicked in.
"Stay alert," he hissed. "Hopefully Steed and Emma took care of things for us."
She nodded, spell broken, and let Gambit climb up first. The hall was deserted, and he took her hand to help pull her out. They glanced around for a moment, getting their bearings. Gambit hadn't been in this part of the base before, but it was a dead end, leaving only one way to go. He drew his gun and indicated for Purdey to follow.
They found their first man quickly enough, after Gambit had threaded his way back to the main corridor that he and Emma and Steed had explored before. He was clearly with Pym, carrying a box for eventual transport back to the vehicle. Purdey and Gambit ducked behind the nearest wall, waited until he'd passed before tapping on his shoulder. He turned in surprise, only to see Gambit's smiling face, followed by a rapidly approaching fist. His head snapped back, but Purdey was behind him, planting one booted foot in his nether regions, and pushing him forward, doubled-over and off-balance. Gambit finished him off with a neat chop to the neck, and caught his box just before it hit the ground, while Purdey took hold of his collar and lowered him gently down.
"I don't think he liked our party trick," Purdey quipped as Gambit set down the box.
"He'll like it even less when he wakes up," he added, bending to retrieve the man's weapon. The second his eyes were off Purdey, though, the footsteps were echoing down the hall, and he glanced up just in time to see Purdey's retreating back making straight for the cordoned off area. He moved to pursue, but their man wasn't down, and he grabbed Gambit's ankle, twisting and sending the agent down in a heap. Gambit struck him against the temple and went limp, before transferring his attention back to the girl.
"Purdey!" Gambit hissed futilely after her, wishing that he hadn't tripped, knowing that she'd have too much of a head start by the time he was upright again. "Emma!" he exclaimed at the flash of auburn out of the corner of his eye, only now emerging from the corridor to his right. "Emma, stop her!"
To her credit, Emma didn't even hesitate, just caught sight of the fleeing figure and took off in pursuit. Gambit watched with concern. Emma's remarkable abilities aside, he was certain that not one of Steed's former partners could beat the blonde in a foot race. But then Purdey wasn't in peak physical condition, and for once Gambit was glad for the injuries if they meant Emma would be able to stop her before she got herself killed.
It seemed he was right. Emma was rapidly closing the gap, and Gambit hoped she remembered the trigger mechanism from earlier. Purdey was perilously close when Emma left the ground, sailing through the air to grab the girl around the waist. Blonde and redhead went down in a tangle of arms and legs. Purdey immediately tried to struggle out from beneath the older woman, but Emma had been anticipating that, and she soon had Purdey's arms pinned to her sides. Under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have held her, but Purdey's ribs discouraged further struggling. Emma smiled ruefully down at the livid girl.
"Sorry," she said flippantly, "but someone has to save you from yourself." She sighed. "I don't suppose this will do much for friendship."
"Bravo," Purdey muttered sarcastically, glaring over Emma's shoulder as Gambit strode into view. "Traitor," she accused, and tried to look angry, but it was hard to be too intimidating with Emma looming over her like a nanny disciplining a naughty child.
Gambit crouched down beside her, nodded at Emma to let go. She did, rolling off to the side and pushing back a stray lock of hair. Purdey sat up and dusted herself off with as much dignity as she could muster. Gambit knew her pride was hurt, and set about rectifying the situation.
"There's a sensor," he told her, doing his best not to take the resentful looks she was shooting him to heart. "We found it earlier, when we came through last time. Watch." He found a piece of wood, tossed it down the corridor ahead. Immediately the floor opened up, and Purdey was treated to a view of several unforgiving sharp spikes before it closed up again. "See what I mean?" Gambit asked tiredly. "You're not paying attention, Purdey-girl. You're going to get yourself killed if you keep trying to run off on your own."
She didn't look nearly as angry now. In fact, she looked frightened and vulnerable, as though the floor really had fallen out from under her. Gambit cursed under his breath. He didn't want her broken anymore than he wanted her angry. He knew he never should have agreed to this vendetta. Purdey'd been through too much already without taking on Pym for family honour. He reached out and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, and was treated to a ghost of a smile.
"Sorry," she mumbled to both of them, and Gambit smiled back.
"Just be careful. I'm sure Emma doesn't relish tackling you anymore than you do."
Emma smiled too, in agreement. "I've got my own supply of enemies without making one of you as well," she commented, reaching out a friendly hand to help Purdey up. Gambit offered her one, too, and between the pair of them they got her on her feet.
"How have things been at your end?" Gambit queried, giving Purdey time to dust herself off and run out of sulk.
"Steed and I split up," Emma explained. "Grey's upped the guard quotient to four, and their patrols were to regular to wait by the trap door. I've taken two, and I haven't seen others, so I suspect Steed's been busy."
Gambit nodded, doing the math. "Pym's got three men with him, plus the one waiting outside. Purdey and I put him to sleep. Do you think Pym's noticed that no one's making rounds?"
Emma shook her head. "No one was when we were here, either. He's got no reason to be suspicious."
"Certainly not anymore." Steed's voice came from the opposite end of the corridor, across the death trap. He sauntered over to the edge, and waited for Gambit, Purdey, and Emma, to gather across the way. "I've taken care of both guards. Add that to your friend down the hall and that leaves Pym and two minions."
"The odds look better all the time," Purdey observed with an odd glint in her eye.
"Yes..." Steed agreed, frowning at her silhouette. Something about her voice made him uneasy. "I say we split up again, try to net the last three and meet up here to wait for the cavalry. Purdey, stay with Gambit."
Purdey scowled like a spoiled child. "I'll be all right!" she insisted, almost stomping her foot.
"All the same..." Steed's voice was stern, warning. "Ten minutes, then meet up. I'm not taking any chances." The last part seemed to be directed at Purdey, but the girl said nothing as the senior agent drifted away.
"I'll take the high road," Emma informed briskly, setting off down the branch corridor from whence she came. "Good luck hunting."
"Thanks," Gambit said distractedly, eyes on Purdey. "We'll take the main route." He waited until Emma was out of sight before crossing his arms. "Steed doesn't know you made a break for it just now. Why did he remind you to stay put?"
She shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "I don't know. Worried after me because I'm hurt, I suppose. Anyway, you're not much better."
"No," Gambit agreed. "I'm not. But I know when Steed's got something else on his mind, and you are definitely it."
Purdey clenched her teeth. "Look, what does it matter? You trust me, don't you?"
Gambit softened immediately. "Of course I do. With my life."
"Then let's get on with things," Purdey said in a voice that shook, padding off down the hall. Gambit made after her, grabbed her arm.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "But this whole thing's got me paranoid. You were missing for so long..."
"I know." She reached out and patted his shoulder. "This hasn't been easy for anyone. But it'll be over soon."
"Right," Gambit agreed. "Let's see what we can find."
They walked a moment before Purdey froze, eyes wide. "Oh no."
Gambit was immediately scanning their surroundings for a threat. "What is it?"
"I need to see Emma," Purdey said urgently.
"What? Why?" Gambit wanted to know.
"The trap door," Purdey explained, biting her lip. "There's a trick to the mechanism. It locks from the outside."
"I'm sure Emma can figure it out," Gambit dismissed, but Purdey was insistent.
"She may not have time to figure it out if she's in trouble." She looked beseechingly at Gambit. "I think at least Steed or Emma should know, in case they need to get out in a hurry. Just let me go after her. I'll be all right. She can't be too far. I won't be on my own for long."
Gambit worked his jaw. He didn't want to let Purdey off on her own in her condition, physically or emotionally, and obviously neither did Steed, but Emma deserved to know if something was odd about the mechanism. "All right, we'll go back."
"No," Purdey countered. "You need to check for Pym's men. You can't do that if you're following me. No, it's better if I find Emma, then meet you ten minutes from now at the rendezvous."
"But Steed—"
"Steed will understand," she said firmly. "We're wasting time, Mike. Just let me go."
Gambit was obviously torn between duty and necessity, but Purdey knew when his shoulders slumped that she'd won the battle. "All right," he said wearily. "Just watch yourself, and don't take too long finding her. If she's gone too far, find me again."
"I will." Purdey smiled crookedly, eyes moistening for reasons he didn't understand. Before he knew, her arms were around his waist, hugging him tight. "Thank you."
Gambit blinked in surprise, letting one arm curl round her protectively. "For what?"
"For taking all this trouble," she said into his shoulder. "I'm so sorry for all the trouble, Mike."
Gambit patted her back affectionately. "Nothing to be sorry about. None of it's been your fault, and this...well, I'd press home my advantage, but now's not the best time…"
"I know." Purdey pulled away quickly, clasping her hands behind her back like a guilty schoolgirl. "I'm being silly."
Gambit grinned. "If that's silly, I like it. Save it for later."
Purdey smiled nervously, started to back down the hall. "Wouldn't you like that…"
"I'd like a lot of things," Gambit replied, watching her go before turning to set off down the hall. He could hear Purdey's footsteps take off in the opposite direction, and wondered if he'd done the right thing.
***
Two minutes later, Mike Gambit heard the sounds of a scuffle. Worried for Purdey's safety, he took hurried off in the direction of the fight, wondering if any of his other allies would make it to the scene before he did.
It didn't matter, as it turned out. Emma Knight was prodding a prone man with one foot, satisfied he was down for the count. She glanced up at the sound of running feet, just in time to see Gambit come round the corner. He slowed to a quick walk when he saw the victim, came to a stop just short of the unconscious man's hand. "I thought I heard something," he murmured, eyeing the victim, clearly one of Pym's lot.
"Well, you're a bit late to come to the rescue," Emma said unnecessarily, bending to retrieve the fallen man's gun. "As you can see."
"Yes," Gambit agreed, impressed at Emma's handiwork once again. "Didn't need Purdey, either, I take it?"
Emma frowned slightly. "No," she agreed. "Why would I?"
Gambit realised that the blonde was absent for the first time. "Where is she, then?" he queried, casting about for the familiar silhouette, panic starting to rise in his chest.
Emma noticed his upset, furrowed her brow. "I've no idea," she said truthfully. "Last I knew she was with you."
"She told me she was going to meet you. She said there was something about the trap door you needed to know." Gambit was definitely panicking now, hands running absently through the dark hair.
"She never arrived." Emma looked concerned. "Do you think she was captured?"
"Maybe," Gambit said absently, cursing under his breath. "I never should have left her on her own. But it seemed all right. She didn't have far to go..."
"When was this?" Emma pressed.
"Few minutes ago."
"Then there may still be time. Come on, we'll retrace her steps."
"Right." Gambit reached for his gun, but grasped only empty air. He glanced down, pulling his jacket away to reveal a holster that was most definitely missing a Smith and Wesson. "My gun..." he said faintly, eyes confused, but then memory flooded back, and he remembered Purdey backing away after embracing him, hands behind her back. Her hands had been sliding all over underneath his jacket. He wouldn't have noticed the subtle tug as she freed the weapon from the holster. Just the way he hadn't a million years ago, when Purdey Bryde, as she was then, had looked him in the eye and let her body do the work while her hands plucked away his gun at the target range. 1975. A million years ago. Same old trick. And he'd fallen for it as hard as last time. Damn.
But this time it wasn't to show off, or prove a point. This time Purdey could only want a gun for one reason, and one reason only. Revenge.
"She hasn't been captured," Gambit said darkly, holding Emma's eyes with his. "She took my gun. She's going to kill Pym."
Emma's eyes widened. "There's still another man out there!" she reminded. "And she's hurt!"
"That's why we need to move," Gambit asserted, breaking into a run. "If you were Pym, where would you be?"
"Storage," Emma called after him. "The boxes."
"And Purdey would know that," Gambit concluded.
"Know what?" Steed was to their left, down another corridor, but he hurried after the two figures and caught up in good time.
"I let her get to me," Gambit explained angrily. "I should have known when she teared up. She was asking me to forgive her." He swore some more. Idiot! Letting his body and his emotions get in the way. But it was Purdey. Purdey couldn't....no, Purdey could. Purdey was stubborn when she put her mind to it. And, although Gambit hated to admit it, she wasn't thinking straight. She was obsessed. "If we don't hurry," he told them, "someone's going to end up dead."
***
Purdey strode purposefully down the corridor, searching for the area with the boxes Gambit had mentioned. She had a feeling Pym would be there, and when she saw another of his men exiting laden with files she knew she was in the right place. She raised Gambit's revolver, so strong and sure in her hand, and pointed it his way.
"Drop it," she ordered, voice icy.
Pym's man started, and did as he was bid, scrabbling for his own gun, but Purdey was faster, quickly closing the distance between them and driving one knee up into his groin before striking his bent head forcefully with the butt of her gun. He sank to the floor without a sound, but Purdey was already moving with military like precision for the door to the room where her prey lurked, ready to be cut down just as her father before him.
It took her awhile for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. It was dark in the corridor, certainly, but this was a new, deeper, blacker darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. She could just barely make out the shapes of the stacked boxes, but it was the human-shaped blob that absorbed her full attention, rummaging near the back of the warehouse-like space. She trod carefully, gun at ready, not willing to alert him of her presence until she had him where she wanted him. How she wanted him.
As it was, she was perhaps half a dozen steps away when Pym turned round, whether to leave or just to check for the return of his men, she didn't know. But he definitely saw her, just as she saw him, and the hand that darted toward his gun.
"Don't even think about it," she warned, cut-glass tones echoing menacingly in the hollow space, making her sound louder, omnipresent. The click as she withdrew the safety was equally audible, almost as loud as a shot. "I don't particularly care if you're maimed when I do you in. So drop it and kick it this way. Please."
Pym, to his credit, seemed to recognise that she was serious, and he did as he was bid, setting the weapon down carefully, before kicking it her way. It slid effortlessly across the concrete, gently nudging her booted foot before coming to a stop. Purdey used her foot to nudge it off to the side, in among the boxes where no one would could find it soon. Only then did she take a step. And then another.
"Miss Bryde," Pym identified, although they both already knew that introductions were unnecessary. "I thought I'd seen the last of you when you took that fall."
"Yes, well, I'm rather hard to kill, as quite a few in the prisons would tell you. If you ever made it that far."
Pym arched his eyebrow at the implications of that statement. "Not planning on turning me in, then?"
"Whatever gave you that idea?" Purdey said with mock-sweetness. "I have every intention, just as soon as the coroner arrives."
Pym snorted, a derisive half-chuckle. "So we're not that different after all. You'd gun me down just the way I did your father, no matter which side you claim to be on."
"I don't happen to be on anyone's side at the moment, other than my own," Purdey informed icily. "And you can twist it whichever way you like, but this isn't even close to the same circumstances."
"How the hell do you know? You weren't there. You didn't see him. Do you know, if he'd been half as bloodthirsty as you, I'd have died eleven years ago." He could obviously sense Purdey's surprise at the statement, even if he couldn't see her, and went on. "He chased me, and he found me, and he had a gun to the back of my neck. One shot and there wouldn't have been any problems. His people would have dismissed it as necessary, just as yours will. But I'll say this for old Johnny Bryde—he had his own code, line in the sand. You knew where you stood with him. That was his undoing in the end. One of my men interrupted us. Bryde got him. And I got Bryde. Funny how things work out, isn't it?" She could almost hear his smile in the darkness. "But the oddest thing was, you could tell he didn't regret it, not completely. You could see it in his eyes that he knew he'd made his worst mistake by not killing me, that he was going to pay for it, but some small part of him was still damnedly proud that he hadn't gone the revenge route. The apple fell far from the tree on that one, didn't it?"
"You're lying," Purdey hissed, not wanting to contemplate her father's last moments. "You shot him down in cold blood, and he never stood a chance."
"Your father was a good agent. You know it. I know it. He had a history with me, I'll grant you that But do you really believe he'd gun me down just like that?"
Purdey's heart was pounding. She could see her father, the man she'd loved and trusted, the man who'd been her first audience when she danced, the man who had made her mother so very happy. She couldn't picture him vengeful, except after the attack on her and her mother. But even then, it seemed, he couldn't let himself be swayed. She was digesting this revelation when the room was suddenly flooded with light, and she could hear multiple sets of feet pounding toward her.
"Purdey!" Three voices rang out in unison, but Gambit's was the nearest. Purdey didn't dare turn round, her father's undoing by distraction too fresh in her mind.
"Don't come any closer," she warned. "I'll shoot!"
"She'll shoot anyway," Pym said flatly, regarding the new arrivals with interest. "Mrs. Peel. It's been years."
"Not nearly long enough," Emma snapped back, but half her attention was on Purdey.
"Did you know, I ran into Peter not long after I came out here. Course, I would have sent a postcard if I'd known you wouldn't turn me in. Shame about the divorce. And you." He transferred his attention to Steed. "You were the reason Knight Industries let Bryde in, weren't you? The great John Steed, drawing the widowed Peel into a web of espionage, and all her wonderful connections with her. Pity we were never travelling in the right circles to face off."
Purdey blinked. "What? What's he talking about?"
"Why, I was working in conjunction with Knight Industries when your father was allowed in to investigate my goings on. I fled to Brazil shortly afterwards." Pym grinned, obviously sensing an opportunity. "Didn't they tell you?"
"You mean Emma Peel knew who killed my father before I did?" Purdey roared.
"I didn't know anything," Emma tried to soothe. "They contacted me through Steed, and I told the board of directors it was all right with me if they approved it. I was hardly involved with the company at that point. I was working with Steed."
"If it hadn't been for you, he wouldn't have died!" Purdey screamed. "Both of you!"
"Now Purdey—" Steed tried.
"No." She shook her head angrily, biting back tears. "I'm sick of this. Sick of the lies. That's all they feed you in this business. You, Grey, him." She jerked her gun at Pym. "Lies. And I've suffered for them. I paid for them. I had a right to know what happened, and no one told me the whole story. This ends here, because I say so." There was a mad glint in her eye that Gambit found frightening. Pym, however, was ignoring the girl in favour of the young male agent.
"Now you," Pym went on, unconcerned, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "You're new." He waited for an introduction, but under the circumstances, no one was forthcoming. "Anyone going to clue me in on who the boy wonder here is? Miss Bryde, you must know. Little friend?"
"Big friend," Gambit growled in warning. "Purdey, don't listen. Can't you see he's goading you?"
"I'm not an idiot, Gambit," Purdey snapped, and Pym's eyes lightened with recognition. "Anything you want to confess? Because everyone here seems to have some sort of connection to what happened in 1966. Maybe you sold Pym the gun he used to kill my father?"
Gambit was about to point out that she was seeing conspiracies everywhere now, but Pym broke in. "Mike Gambit," he said with dawning realisation. "You used to race cars, didn't you? Not bad on the amateur circuit, crashed a lot on the pros. Too bad you retired when you did. I thought you showed promise."
Gambit felt his skin crawl at the mere idea of Purdey's father's killer watching him drive. He ignored him and focussed on Purdey instead.
"Purdey, you've been through a lot," he soothed. "You promised you wouldn't do this, and I know you wouldn't lie to me—at least, not about that--so you're obviously not thinking straight. Just calm down and give me the gun."
Purdey shook her head, taking another step toward Pym, then another.
"Think of what the Ministry will say," Steed tried. "And Grey's men. If you kill him, how are you going to answer their questions? They certainly won't believe it was self-defence without an investigation, and no one wants that."
"They should have thought of that before they sent me out," Purdey replied, eyes and voice wrapped in pent-up anger. She was close enough to touch Pym now, and she did, pressing the barrel of her gun against his forehead. The man was actually starting to sweat now, realising that Purdey was deadly serious, and that her colleagues likely wouldn't be able to save him from his fate.
"What about all the other people he's killed?" Emma pointed out. "There must be dozens of families that have lost someone because of him. They're not here to pull the trigger. Why should you have that privilege? They'll only see justice done if you bring him in to be charged."
"They'll read about it in the papers," Purdey dismissed. "And they'll know he's paid. But it has to be me. I'm here. I'm the one who went into this whole bloody business to understand why he left. And I'm the one with the gun, so everyone else can go to hell!" She was crying again, more tears stinging her cheeks angrily, making it hard to see, but she pressed the barrel even harder to Pym's skull. "There's nothing you can say that'll make me change my mind."