1 Ashes to Ashes III
"What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,"
T.S. Eliot
Early Monday morning, Steed walked Emma to her car and opened the driver's side door.
"I believe it's customary for one's husband to give one a kiss in this situation."
"Darling, you're going to have to school me on these customs." he obediently leaned in for kiss and lingered longer than he intended; he then whispered in her ear to be careful.
"You're a fast study."
"So they say. See you at one. I'll bring you lunch. We'll eat on the grounds."
Emma spent the morning filling out paperwork at Eubury and meeting the staff. It was a very boring, uneventful start to her working day.
Gambit and Purdey met Steed as requested at 10am. Steed was in the kitchen pulling a quiche out of the oven.
"Purdey, would you please go out the garden and pick me a quick bouquet? I think some flowers would brighten the kitchen a bit."
"Of course, Steed." Purdey looked nonplused at the unusual request.
"Steed, you are becoming frighteningly domestic. Which reminds me, I've been dying to ask you since last night about that time you and escaped wearing those dresses? Was that idea yours, or his?"
"I suppose you find that funny, Gambit. I was barely ahead of the Stasi, when I crossed the border. I would have worn a grass skirt if that's what it took. And as for my cooking, maybe you should spend more time in the kitchen, Gambit. Women appreciate the effort of a man producing the occasional meal."
"Sorry, Steed, I think my talents lie elsewhere," Gambit said with a wicked smirk.
"Even the most dedicated Lothario must diversify his talents beyond the bedroom. Women need a certain amount of looking after. They like to be taken to nice dinners, escorted to cultural events. You have to woo them. Think of it as banking the fires. Take Purdey, for instance. She loves the ballet. Have you ever thought of getting tickets?"
"Well, taking Purdey is a pleasant thought, Steed, but I can't stand the opera, or the ballet."
"You're missing the point, Gambit. You would go with good grace because Purdey enjoys it. I can't tell you how many boring recitals, and society fetes that Emma has dragged me to. Look, I'm only trying to help. It would have saved a lot of years and heartache. I would have thought that you would figure these things out on your own. After all, I didn't have your advantages. "
Gambit looked at Steed incredulously. "My advantages?"
"Yes, advantages. I was packed off to public school at age five. I never even saw a girl except at holidays. And of those, I was either related to them, or they were on household staff. Then, on to the Royal Military Academy. By age twenty, I was commander of a small squad of equally under-age soldiers. Except for my firm grasp of manners and knowing which fork to use, I might very well have been raised by wolves! You grew up in a normal family. I'll bet there were even girls at your school."
"You make Eton sound more like Borstal."
"Yes, exactly except with an emphasis on the classics. I'm telling you all this assuming that you might actually want a future with Purdey?"
"Did I hear my name mentioned?" Purdey broke in as she entered and began looking for vase while Steed and Gambit exchanged conspiratorial glances.
"No," Steed and Gambit said in tantrum.
"Have you two had breakfast? Steed went on. "Help yourself to quiche, or to juice and coffee. Then I need the London briefing."
Purdey poured herself a coffee and wondered how often the three of them would have moments like this in the future. The dynamic was already changing. Last night on the way back to the hotel, she and Gambit had been usually quiet with none of the playful banter that they used to fill the silences. She was genuinely happy for Steed. Isn't that how friends were? But change was an often difficult, cold thing. Purdey had enjoyed the attention of two very attractive partners. Even if she was not involved with either in a romantic sense, she had enjoyed off duty excursions with both men, and had flirted with both. Truthfully, she felt a little better since Steed had expressed his feelings, even if he was now strictly off limits. She supposed it was an ego thing, but somehow it did make things easier. She supposed she had a little father fixation with Steed. It was better that things were settled between them.
"Purdey, as much as I hate to break your reverie," Steed said, snapping his fingers, "the briefing."
Purdey looked up with a start. "Of course, Steed," Purdey said looking at him rather guiltily. "The Doomsday group is headed by Hugh Hennessy. I interviewed him for a non- existent newspaper article. He's an extremely good looking fellow, tall, piercing blue- green eyes."
If Steed and Gambit were inclined to eye rolling, they could have done it as well as any thirteen year old girl. However, they both just looked on with an air of detached amusement.
Purdey oblivious went on "charismatic, well connected, and mad as the proverbial hatter. He was once accused of sexual battery. Apparently, he was picking up prostitutes at Shepard's Bush and flogging them to purge them of their sins. No actual charges were ever filed. He's the younger brother of the Earl of Aberfeldy so the whole thing was hushed up. He has a following of about 100 or so hardcore fanatics, consisting, interestingly enough, of mostly middle-aged women. That is, until recently, when there was an influx of military rejects. One term enlistees, and cashiered officers swelling the membership rolls. There must be 150 of them. There is no direct money connection between Hugh's group and the ASTA, but there is an indirect connection according to the forensic accountants. The money is wired offshore then cleaned through several accounts and then laundered back to the Doomsday group."
"How much money are we talking about?"
"450,000 pounds. And as to what they're doing with it, I could only hazard a guess..."
Steed interrupted, "I know exactly what they're doing, making payroll for the troops, and buying weapons. I'll bet they've been bringing in the weapons piece meal with the tea imports at Thistle. I saw six cases of rifles at Eubury. According to intelligence, those rifles were delivered to Hennessy's estate. What I need to know, is how many bags of fertilizer are unaccounted for. I'll have Emma check the manufacturing books. I think they have amassed enough nitrate and sulfate to level at least three city blocks in London. But what I can't figure out is why. Why blow up your own factory? If it's about the money- and make no mistake about it, it's always about the money- what do they gain? What are we missing here? If you take a torch to everything, what do you have left? In an apocalypse, what are the commodities?"
"Gold? Troops?"
"No, Gambit. It's more basic than that. The populace first and foremost needs water, and food. If you control that, you control everything. It's more basic than oil. What assets does ASTA have in the way of water, or food? We're not going to live on chamomile tea or figgy breakfast bars. We need to dig a little deeper. And why direct us here with warnings? It makes no sense."
"Unless it's a classic misdirect."
"I think that's it exactly, Gambit. You two go back to London. Go see Mother. Gambit, maybe you should infiltrate the Doomsday Group. We need an inside man. Emma and I will continue to poke around here. "
Steed arrived early for lunch and filled Emma in on the earlier conversation.
"Would you like more wine?"
"Tempting, but I don't think I should go back tipsy."
"You should have another. It's not as though you're going to have a career with Eubury."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to call Mother."
When Steed got back to the cottage, he paced around a bit before straightening his shoulders and
picking up the phone. He hesitated briefly before dialing the number. "Tara. This is Steed."
"Yes. Do you think I've forgotten your voice?" Tara said sounding strained and weary.
"I don't know what I'm thinking these days. I'm sure I sound ridiculous. Is there anyway the three of you could get out of London for the next few weeks? It doesn't matter where you go, as long as you're out of London. You're a clever girl, get Teddy to take you on holiday."
"Let me guess. National Security and you can't tell me anything more?"
"Would I bother you with this otherwise?"
"No, I suppose not," Tara sighed heavily. "Promise me that you'll take care of yourself."
"I promise, Tara." Steed paused awkwardly, " If you ever need anything..."
"I know I can always call on you. It means everything. Thank you, Steed." Tara disconnected. Steed listened for a moment to the dial tone. He then shook his head and called Mother.
When Emma didn't show up by five, Steed began to pace the floor. Emma drove up at 6pm and Steed met her as she switched off her engine. He wordlessly took the bag of groceries from her arms and followed her into the cottage.
"You're uncharacteristically quiet this evening."
"I was beginning to get worried." Steed poured them both a glass of wine. "I was expecting you by 5pm."
"I stopped to pick up some fresh oysters. You know, for Oysters Rockefeller. I thought I'd make dinner for a change."
"Kind of you, but I still wished you had called to let me know. I think my nerves are a bit shot. I don't suppose you were able to get a peek at the books? No, never mind, everything will wait until tomorrow."
He took Emma by the shoulders and slowly began to kiss her. "I don't care about dinner. I don't care about the books. I've been thinking of you all day, thinking about us. How would you like to be buried with my people?" Steed began to trail kisses down her throat and into the hollows of her neck. He then began to unbutton her blouse.
"Not the most romantic proposal a girl could imagine."
"I know, but it's traditional. Some of my ancestors were Scots . You know what a practical, dour bunch they are."
"Don't you think we'd be more comfortable upstairs?" Emma said somewhat breathlessly as Steed lifted her onto the kitchen counter.
"As always, your pleasure is mine, Mrs. Peel." With that, Steed picked her up and carried her up the stairs.
Emma lay on her side with her right leg curled over Steed's mid-section. She propped herself on one elbow and trailed her index finger along Steed's chest to his lower stomach.
"Is that where Chilticott shot you?" Emma gently kissed Steed's left clavicle. "It didn't leave much of a scar. For all your years of long service, you're relatively unscathed."
"Physically, yes. I've learned to ask for better doctors. Better plastic surgeons. It doesn't look like much but it makes my shoulder ache like the devil. "
"This one's new."
"Yes, all acquired during service to Queen and Country."
"What about this small puncture looking wound on your upper thigh?
"What that small one? Oh, a jealous boyfriend ran me through with a steak knife. A bit of luck there. I think he was aiming a bit higher. I'm kidding, it's a bullet wound. It doesn't show in tennis shorts. I limped away from that one, but the other fellow died of lead poisoning. I would never use a 22 caliber myself, it's just not efficient and it makes the people you shoot extremely angry."
Steed finally opened his eyes and stared intently into her eyes. "Is there anything else, I can do for you?" He raised his eyebrows slightly.
"No, darling. I am completely, blissfully, sated," Emma gave an elegant stretch. "I just sometimes wish I still smoked," Emma said wistfully.
"Good. I'm glad you're sated, because I'm exhausted. I was beginning to think there really is no rest for the wicked. You could, however, if you miss smoking that much, light one of my cigars. I, however, just want a bit of well-earned rest."
By way of reply, Emma plucked out one chest hair.
"Ow! Mrs. Peel! You could at least make sure you pluck out only the grey ones."
"I don't really see that many grey hairs, Steed. And I thought you were trained to withstand pain."
"I was. I am. But I can assure you the KGB never plucked out my chest hair. As for the grey, I'm sure they'll be more. Perhaps by morning," Steed said wearily.
"You know that day you called me from Paris? About the article in the paper about the rapidly aging Russian soldiers?" She saw Steed give an almost imperceptible nod. "When I told you I was divorced, and you told me that I would always Mrs. Peel to you. It sounded...I thought you meant that you could never see me as anything other than Peter's wife. I thought you were being cruel." Emma laid her head on Steed's shoulder.
Steed's eyes flicked open. "Why on earth would you think that? I only meant that you were my Mrs. Peel. It didn't matter what name you called yourself. I was always going to remember you as mine. I would never intentionally hurt you. I was hoping you might call me one day. We could fix everything and you could change your name to Steed."
"I've just gotten used to being Emma Knight again. The letter head is printed."
"The letterhead, well, in that case...," Steed said sarcastically. "I think of myself as open minded, even liberal gentleman, but some things are important to me..." Steed went quiet and began to drum his fingers on his rib cage and Emma could see he was trying to gain the upper hand on his temper. "You make everything so difficult. It's a marriage, not a business merger," he sighed heavily. "If we have children, it complicates things. You took Peter's name. I'd like to think you loved me enough to do the same."
"I didn't know you felt that strongly one way, or another," Emma said simply. "Maybe it could be Knight-Steed?"
"Won't it sound as if we're holding Chess Seminars? Alright," Steed had begun to regain some of his good humor back, "any children will, of course carry my last name. And no, that is not up for debate."
"Of course," Emma mollified. Any further discussion was interrupted by the ringing of the phone.
"Steed, here. Yes, Purdey," Steed sat up on the side of the bed. "Thistle owns controlling shares of Granada, the Agribusiness Company? That's our connection then. They've been speculating on seed futures and gene banks? Well, there's our food source. But, where's the water? The water link is vital. Call me back when you have the second part of the equation. We're still missing something."
Steed turned back to Emma and cuddled her close. "Darling, tell me everything you know about the Global Crop Diversity Trust and the Doomsday Seed Vault."
"Steed, you do have the sweetest pillow talk. Well, this is an industry in its infancy. Some of this is just in the planning stages. Essentially it's a bank of the world's supply of plant seeds. You know, orthodox seeds, recalcitrant seeds. An insurance policy if you will, of every genotype. It's not really my field, but Granada has come out with a Terminator seed, a genetically altered seed that does not reproduce. It doesn't self- propagate; therefore, you always need to buy seed. Granada is very proprietary and very litigious. They've been at the forefront of biotech, you know, they also invented DDT and Agent Orange."
"There's your wonderful biochemistry put to practical use. Seeds. You need water to grow seeds. How do you control the world's water supply? Theoretically? What if you taint the fresh water supply?"
"Hmm. The largest source of water would be from the sea. But it's not potable. Saudi Arabia has the largest desalinization plant in the world due to necessity. Reverse osmosis, distillation, the membrane process. They're all very labor and energy intensive; therefore, almost prohibitively expensive. Of course, recently, there has been speculation about nuclear driven desalinization..."
"Dungeness," they said in unison.
"Let me call Purdey back." After promising to look into what machinery would be needed to effectively retool the nuclear plant to a desalinization plant and the whether any such purchases had been made by the ASTA Corp, Purdey rang off.
"I think I need to take a look around Dungeness tonight. Have you ever seen the plant at night? The shale just shines. It's quite spectacular when the moon glitters off it." Steed got up to dress.
"Don't you want me to come with you?"
"No. I want you to keep my dinner and my bed warm,"
"I love it when you talk sexist," Emma said in an amused tone, refusing to let Steed perturb her mood.
"Yes, darling," he mumbled as he bent down to put on his shoes. He waited till Emma's back was turned before taking his gun out of the night stand.
"I'm going as a nuclear inspector. I had the ID made before I left London. It should be a straight walk in situation. All I need is a dirty mac and a bad tie. Do I look the engineer type?" Steed offered himself for inspection.
"You look wonderful. That bad tie brings out your pretty blue eyes. Do you know what you're looking for?"
"Just anything out of the ordinary. And, my eyes are grey."
"Only when you're cool. They change, darling, according to what shade you're wearing. Sometimes, according to your mood. And take the gun out of your pants, Steed. Maybe you should carry a snub nose. All I can think of are vaudeville jokes."
Just as Steed predicted, Dungeness was a straight walk in, flash the ID and no one was the wiser. What was unexpected was the stark beauty of the landscape and the green twinkling lights of the power station like stars that had fallen to ground. The night crew was skeletal, with just enough manpower to keep the station operating at minimum power through the night. The workers were used to unannounced visits and inspections, and Steed allowed himself to be led around on tour, looking for any bright shiny new equipment, or locked doors. The plant was vast. He loitered in the break room drinking bad coffee and chatting with the workers. The head engineer was very informative and immediately attached himself to Steed.
"Any new repairs, that I need to inspect?"
"There is a new intake and release on the pumping substation," one of the workers volunteered.
"Well, let's have a look see, shall we?"
Steed and the engineer clattered back up the iron stairways and out to the pumping station.
"You know you seem like a pleasant enough chap. I was hoping you weren't going to ask to see this." The gentleman pulled out a small revolver from his pocket and aimed it in the general direction of Steed's back.
Steed, who had been leaning over the rails, turned slowly and raised his Walther. "I believe this is called 'snap'. I'll bet I'm a better shot. And look, my gun is bigger. And it's a semi- automatic."'
"You're not really a nuclear inspector are you?"
Steed shook his head regretfully. "I take it you're not really the engineer for Dungeness either? It looks like we're both here under false pretences. I'll tell you who I am, if you tell me who you are," he said conspiratorially. "You go first because you haven't even cocked back the hammer. I don't think you're taking your job seriously."
The gentlemen blinked rapidly, "I'm MI5. How do you know I didn't cock the hammer?"
"Two sounds you never forget is the sound of a knife clicking open or of a hammer of being cocked back. It's the kind of sound that makes time stand still. Why don't you just take some ID out of your wallet and kick it over here to me?"
The sandy haired fellow signed deeply, "I don't keep my ID in my wallet. I keep it in my pants."
"Right. Let's have a look."
"I'm going to have to reach down in the front of my pants."
Steed lifted his eyebrows. "Do what you have to do, but get on with it. My trigger finger is cramping."
The gentleman reached down and pulled the card out of his groin area, dropped it to the ground and dutifully kicked it over to Steed.
Steed looked from the card to the gentleman and back again, "I'm not picking it up." Steed squinted down at the card. "It says here your name is Harris Hall. Not a flattering photo at all." Steed kicked back the card.
"You didn't say who you were."
"That's right I didn't." Steed abruptly lowered his gun. "I'm John Steed. I'm with the Ministry. No one told me MI5 was in on this."
"The John Steed? Well, MI5 didn't mention you either. We've been on this for the last four months. You might think there would be a little better communication between the branches."
"Wouldn't it be nice to think so. What do you know about desalination?"
"They've been putting the equipment for at least the last four months. They're almost ready to go on line. We've been trying to link ASTA to this. We've got the underlings nailed. We want the top men."
"Yes. Bell, Walker, Dewar, and Teacher. What about Eubury?"
"That's a big Roman Candle."
"What about the ammonium sulfate and the nitrates?"
"They've been shipping it up to London for the two weeks."
"Doesn't anyone find that alarming? I don't know why I'm chasing my tail down here. I should be back in London with Hugh Hennessy. What does your agency know about him?"
"Doomsday is on the peripheral. MI5 has classified them as low risk. We're watching. That's all."
"Low risk! They've got an army of 150, and a mini- arsenal. I saw six cases of rifles that were delivered up there. I'm sure that's the tip of the iceberg. ASTA has been funneling them major money. You talk to your people. I'm definitely going to be talking to mine."
Steed met Emma as she was leaving the cottage.
"Where are you going?"
"I was going to look for you."
"I thought we'd agree you'd stay here?"
"I began to get worried about you. What you said about the shale was nagging at me. Sean Mortimer had shale in his shoes when he was found dead in the stream. I'm sure if it had been tested, it would have been a direct match to the shale at Dungeness."
"So more than likely he was killed at Dungeness and then transported. Would you believe I ran into MI5 at the plant? Their agent pulled a gun on me! It's ridiculous how close mouthed these two agencies are. How stingy they are with information. I'm calling Mother. I think you'd better pack, because we're going back to London. Is there any dinner? I'm starving."
"If he was killed at Dungeness, wouldn't he have had sea water in his lungs?"
"Well, unless they got creative. They do have access to fresh water at the plant."
"Perhaps. And no, I didn't cook dinner."
"Well, it's just as well you're quitting your job at Eubury. A man can't even get a hot meal."
"I'm going to pull a gun on you next, Steed."
Steed threw an arm over Emma's shoulders and hugged her tightly. "I wish we didn't have to go back. Just think of this as a quiet weekend at the shore. Soon you'll be back running your business empire and sleeping in your own bed."
"You have an interesting way of defining no demands. We're on the brink of a possible apocalypse. And just the two of us? Really, characters have been in and out of here like a stage play. It's been like human trafficking. I would give serious consideration to your definition of a quiet weekend at the shore. And about dinner, I' m sure I can scrounge you something from the fridge."
"Of course I know what time it is!" Emma heard Steed's exasperated voice from the living room exclaim.
Steed spent 30 minutes on the phone with Mother with elevated voice arguing back and forth before it was decided that they would return to London the next day. Mother agreed to a forced consortium with MI5 and a complete disclosure meeting.
When Steed entered the kitchen, he found Emma removing the oysters from the oven.
"How was Mother?"
"Like a rattlesnake on amphetamines. I got a real ear pounding. I hate how the politics of the office leaves the field agents to hang and twist in the wind."
"When you're Bureau Chief, you can rectify that."
"I'm not even sure I want the job. Are there any openings at Knight Industries?
"I'm not sure. What are your qualifications?" Emma embraced Steed from behind and bit his left earlobe. "And skills?" she breathed in his ear.
"Emma, I'm afraid you've seen all my skills."
"All of them?"
"Well, I might have one or two, I've been saving..." Steed said with a slight smile.
"In that case, you really should eat your oysters."
In the morning, Emma and Steed drove their separate cars back to London. After the meeting with MI5, Mother coordinated with Major General Stephens to have the HQ London District Horse Guards on notice and an alert went out to Scotland Yard.
Steed had driven to Emma's apartment after the meeting. They lingered for brunch before packing her a few things under the pretext that Steed's Wiltshire home was closer to Hennessy's Glendronach Estate, not to mention it was further away from ground zero for the presumed strike.
Emma enjoyed the hour drive from London. She allowed Steed to drive since she felt he was already under sufficient strain. At last they pulled off to Steed's impressive driveway. She had to admit he had picked a beautiful piece of property to locate his Stud Farm. All bucolic charm displayed with all of nature's finery in the fresh spring sunshine. The house was a large white Georgian with circular drive.
Steed got out of the Range Rover and collected Emma's bags, and the housekeeper came out to greet them at the front steps.
"Hello, Mrs. O'Connor. This is Dr. Emma Knight. She'll being staying for a while. Is the front guest room ready?"
"Oh aye, Mr. Steed," Mrs. O'Connor said in her thick brogue. She hadn't actually managed to even look in Emma's direction. Emma supposed she thought she was one of many in a long line of Steed's fancy women.
Steed must have been thinking the same thing because he then stated abruptly, "We're engaged to be married."
The effect was galvanizing; Mrs. O'Connor snapped her head back and actually looked at Emma for the first time. Her gaze swept Emma from head to toe, then came back to rest prominently on her mid-section. Her mouth closed with an almost audible click.
"Here dear, let me get that," Mrs. O'Connor said while simultaneously reaching for Emma's makeup case.
Steed intercepted the case from the older woman "Now Mrs. O' Connor there's no need for you to carry that."
"Then I'll just nip up and freshen up the guest room." Mrs. O'Connor said smiling broadly and showing off her sweet blue eyes.
"Where's Beau?" Steed said expectantly.
"I'm sure he heard the car and will be along any minute now. He's been up at the stables all day. I haven't seen him since breakfast." Mrs. O'Connor turned to go in the house.
"Never mind, here he comes now," Steed turned and whistled. A huge Weimaraner came bounding across the grounds and skidded to a stop at Steed's legs. Steed bent over and rubbed the dog briskly about the head and shoulders.
"Good lord, Steed. He looks like he needs a saddle."
"He is a good size isn't he? You wouldn't recognize him from when I found him winter before last, nearly starved to death. I was riding in the upper woods when I found him with his hindquarters full of buckshot. I brought him back to the house, the stables were too cold. Made him some chicken broth laced with antibiotics and dressed his wounds. I didn't know if he'd live through the night. But we're too tough for a bit of lead, aren't we boy? I picked buckshot out of him for a week. On the seventh day he made if all the way up the stairs and slept outside my bedroom door. He's been at my feet ever since. Never did find his owner. But he is a handsome beast, isn't he?"
Emma looked from the big sleek, grey ghost dog with the grayish blue eyes and then back to Steed and nodded." She leaned over to pet the dog, "Steed, it says on his collar 'Boris'."
"Yes, I know. But I ask you, what self-respecting Englishman can have a dog named Boris? I call him Beau after Beau Brummell."
"Of course you do."
After giving Emma a brief tour of the house and grounds, Steed and Emma settled in the library for tea.
"Here you go dear," Mrs. O'Connor said placing a bit of apple crumble in front of Emma. " I usually don't keep any sweets in the house. You know, Mr. Steed works so hard to keep the weight off. I brought you a nice big glass of milk and there is clotted Devonshire cream for your tea." The housekeeper placed the tray down in front of Emma and smiled delightedly at her.
"Ah, thank you Mrs. O'Connor," Steed said. He watched her leave with a perplexed look on his face. "She usually not so accommodating. I think you've completely won her over my dear."
"Didn't you see the way she looked at me after you announced we're getting married? She thinks you've gotten me in the club."
"And what club might that be? Oh. I see. Surely not, Mrs. Peel," Steed frowned to himself.
"And by the way, it's a bit disconcerting the way you keep blurting out that we're getting married. It almost seems like a defensive reflex and I haven't even had a proper proposal."
"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course, you do. You didn't want your housekeeper to think I was another of your conquests down for the weekend. Steed, you really must have some of this crumble, it really is quite delicious."
"Mrs. O'Connor was right," Steed signed. "It will only mean more time on the treadmill later. And I resent the implication that I date loose women. I'll have you know most the women I've dated aren't loose at all, but are firmly manacled to some unfortunate fellow."
"I'm sure you must think I find that amusing. As for the crumble, if you're good, I'll help you work it off later." Emma turned her fork over and licked it suggestively.
Steed shook his head ruefully, "You're as wicked as they come, my dear."
"You've never complained before."
"No, and why would I? I love you, Emma."
Emma walked over and sat on Steed's lap. She snuggled her head into his shoulder as she breathed in his cologne. She sat there cocooned in Steed's warmth, and lulled as if hypnotized, by the slow ticking of the Grandfather clock. She could almost feel Steed's blood coursing through his veins. "I don't remember a time when I felt such complete and utter contentment. I feel so safe and secure in your arms. Wouldn't it be nice if we could stop time and this minute could last for eternity?"
In reply, Steed kissed her gently without artifice, and without heat. Finally, Steed broke the kiss, "I told you I'd offer you a proper proposal. I can't think of a more appropriate time than now, even though it's not on bended knee. Emma, I'm madly in love with you. If you will marry me, I'll never give you cause to regret it."
"I was beginning to think you'd never ask. Yes," Emma breathed slightly in his ear. "I love you to the point of distraction."
"I'll carry you upstairs."
Steed carried Emma up to the bedroom and laid her gently on the bed. "You know I had never really noticed how many steps there are." He bent to remove her shoes.
Emma smiled. "You were magnificent darling, as usual."
"That second landing gave me pause for thought. It made me extremely grateful you hadn't elected to finish that last bit of crumble," Steed said lightly, but Emma was already asleep. He stood there torn, wondering whether to join her or go down to straighten out Mrs. O'Connor. He elected to strip off and join Emma. To hell with what anyone thought. He was tired and honestly, he hadn't fully recovered from the physical punishment of his gunshot wound. He had felt a little winded on the stairs. He supposed it was just the relentless onset of age. You could slow it down, but you couldn't stop it.
Gambit had been loitering at the Royal British Legion Hall on the pretext of getting a handout, or a job for three days.
"Why do I get all the glamorous assignments?"
"Well, if you could perform the Pas de Chat as well as Purdey, you would have more flexibility in the field." Steed and Gambit both took a moment to ponder all the possible implications of 'flexibility'. "Anyway, our skills as ex-soldiers may be a little more mundane, but it's exactly what the situation calls for. Unfortunately, I'm a little past retirement age."
"Not mandatory retirement age," Gambit's eyes glittered evilly.
"Well, technically that's true. However, in this case it hardly seems necessary for both of us to go. Unless, of course, you feel you need back up."
"Oh, yes, I think I definitely need back up. Hugh Hennessy is a nutter. A nutter with 150 ex-soldiers on payroll. I think two would go a long way in evening up the numbers a tad . As you always say, teamwork is essential, as it gives the enemy someone else to shoot at."
"Alright, Gambit, we'll both go," Steed said with a slight smile. "At least neither of us will have to shave for a bit."
"Maybe, I can go as a Major this time and you could be enlisted."
"Let's not push it Gambit. I can't possibly live off enlisted pay. I'll see your Major and raise you a Colonel."
Three days later they were both down in Hugh Hennessy's Estate basement mapping out defensive positions.
"Who knew all that childhood play with toy soldiers would actually come in handy? I say we put six on the roof, with intersecting fields of fire."
"You do know, we're not actually supposed to help them."
"Don't worry old sport, I've got our extraction point."
"And where might that be."
"Why, the back door of course."
Hugh had called a muster for 6pm. He was in rare form and had a rallying speech for the troops:
"Men this is a glorious thing that we are called upon to do. Some men are looking for something to live for, but what far greater imagination it takes to find something to die for. We'll do this for England boys. By the time we've finished controlling all the water, and all the food sources, those Arabs will forced to eat their oil. No longer will we be dependent on fossil fuels supplied by those who loathe us and wish to destroy our way of life. This is an epic struggle, one that we can't afford to lose. With God behind us, each and every one will be amply rewarded in this life and the next. But we must defeat those infidels! Britain will lick no one's boots!"
"Well, what did you think of the speech?" Gambit whispered to Steed as they left the basement.
"Well, I was hoping for something more in a Henry the V vein, but I give full marks for originality. And it was mercifully brief. Churchill made much better speeches, but then he was sane. You know, I've got a few shares in wells on Saudi land for services rendered. I don't want to appear self-interested, but we really need to throw a net around him. Let's go out to the stables and see if those lorries are still loaded with fertilizer."
Gambit and Steed prowled through the stables taking inventory.
Steed leaned over a small tank but couldn't make out the label in the gloom. "Here,' Steed called out to Gambit quietly, "see if you can you make out the writing."
Gambit crouched and pulled a lighter out of his pocket and flicked it before Steed could object.
About the time their eyes focused on the label, JP-4. Gambit had quickly flicked closed his lighter and Steed was hauling them backwards. Gambit was momentarily engulfed in a vapor flame and Steed was sitting on him beating off the flames with his hands. Steed rolled off Gambit and the two men stared at each other incredulously.
"Good Lord, Gambit. Your eyebrows are almost singed off. Are you alright?"
"I think so. You?"
"Apparently sound. You look like you've got a sunburn. You never light a flame in a barn, man!"
"I couldn't read the label in the dark!"
"There's three lorries of ammonium sulfate and nitrate in this barn!"
"Yes, and they're stable without an accelerate!"
"That would be the JP-4!"
"No. Really?"
Steed started to laugh. He sat up, "here, help me up. No, not the hands. They're burned. Grab my elbow. And remind me to buy you an electric torch."
"Is it bad?"
"No. It hurt worse when Emma was pulling out chest hairs the other night."
"What?"
"Oh, never mind."
"You're not going to mention this are you?"
"I wouldn't dream of it. Did I ever tell you about the time I lit a cigar at the munitions dump? I almost got myself cashiered over that. But that last bit you did, nearly made Guy Fawkes Day look like sparklers at a garden fete. "
"Your hands need looking after."
I'm sure they don't look much worse than your face. Purdey's going to hate you burned your lovely eyelashes. It does tend to detract from your eyes a bit."
Gambit snorted, "I would think you have more important things to worry about then what Purdey thinks of my eyes. I think Mrs. Peel has you wrapped up tight. You're going to marry her, aren't you?"
"Yes. I'm going to run this bureau, or leave it. If I run it, then you're going to be my right hand man, Mike. I hope I do a damn sight better job than the current administration."
"Amen to that." Gambit had more than one occasion to be grateful for Steed's instincts and quick reflexes. But then, he too had saved Steed's hide more times than he cared to count. Gambit began to whistle tunelessly.
Mrs. Peel was glaring at him in the foyer of Steed's country house. "Mike Gambit, how dare you bring him back in that shape!" She looked from Gambit to Steed. "You both need silver sulfadiazine creme. Steed's hands look the worst. Purdey you can handle them both. I have a transatlantic conference for Knight Industries. I'll need half an hour on your phone undisturbed. I don't even want to know what happened." With that Emma left with a resounding slam of a heavy oak door.
Steed winced. "Purdey, will you be a dear and fetch me a large whiskey and lime?" He looked at his hands. "And perhaps a straw. Oh, and the first aid kit is in the downstairs bath, on the second shelf of the linen closet. What will you have, Gambit?"
"The same." Gambit looked sheepish.
Purdey dutifully came back with the glasses.
"Purdey, this is a water glass. I hate to be a purist, but whiskey does belong in a whiskey glass."
Yes. I know Steed, but I've filled it to the top with ice and a little lime. Make it last."
Steed took it in his best hand. "Do Gambit first, he looks like he fell asleep under one of those sun lamps."
"Yes, except for those singed eyebrows and eyelashes." Purdey looked at Gambit with a frown.
"I told him you would be unhappy about that."
Purdey put the first aid creme on Gambit's face and neck and he went to freshen up in the guest bath. Purdey then perched on the coffee table as she anointed Steed's hands. "Are you sure you want this?"
Steed looked at her quizzically.
"Mrs., I mean Dr. Knight, um Emma, is not exactly happy right now."
"Yes, well at least it was an interior door she slammed, and not an exterior door," Steed said stoically.
"Still, It seemed rather cold, the way she treated you," Purdey busied herself applying the ointment, avoiding Steed's eyes.
"Purdey, Emma is far from cold."
"Is this what's it's about? The sex?" Purdey said earnestly as if trying to put together a puzzle.
"Yes, well, I wasn't talking about sex, Purdey. You young ladies ask the most embarrassing questions. It's the second time in the last two weeks one of you has given me cause to blush. I don't half wonder if you're not doing some sort of updated Kinsey Report! Emma is frightened for me. She gets angry with me for what she perceives as unnecessary risk taking. Underneath that facade, is a very vulnerable and sensitive young woman. She lost both parents at a young age, and was supposedly widowed at a young age. You of all people should be able to identify with that. She shuts down emotionally. It's just a coping mechanism. Would it help if I told you we are completely besotted with one another?"
"Maybe, I care for you and want the best for you. If she loves you completely, she must have redeeming qualities and I promise to give her a chance. For your sake."
"Believe me when I say I want the best for you."
"I hate change."
"As do I. But it's inevitable. I can't stay out in the field any longer. I'm slowing up."
"No."
"Yes. I don't want to be the one responsible if, one day, Gambit, or any other agent, doesn't come home because I was so vain I couldn't walk away. No one should die because I was half a step behind. I couldn't live with myself. Better to leave at the top of my game."
"Are you going to marry her?"
"What do the odds makers say at the Ministry?"
"Hmm, for which pool, the one whether you're going to marry Mrs. Peel, or the pool on who shot you?
"There's a pool on who shot me. Why you never," Steed took a long pull off his whiskey.
"A who shot J.S. mystery. Who is the odds on favorite? I thought they believed I had shot myself," Steed half mused to himself.
"Well, you were the one pushing that angle, but no one was buying it. Everyone who has seen you with Tara knows that you were fond of her, but she was mad, keen on you. The consensus is that Tara shot you. Besides, you're not the suicidal type."
"Tara would never hurt me. We're both still very fond of each other. I spoke to her the other night."
"I wouldn't mention that little gem to Mrs. Peel."
"I wouldn't dream of it. Some things are on a strictly need to know basis. Of course, after we're married, I'll tell her everything. Only a fool lies to his doctor, his lawyer, or his wife."
"Well, for now you can certainly confide in me. Now, how about you tell me who shot you and we'll split the pool?"
Steed leaned forward. "If I tell you that I'm afraid I'll lose my mystique. I can't tell you, it doesn't matter how long you stare at me with those beautiful, big blue eyes. We're friends Purdey, nothing will ever change that. We'll always have this twinkle even after you've married Mike Gambit and had your five children and your scruffy dog."
When Gambit came back into the room Purdey and Steed were still staring into one another's eyes and smiling as if they shared a secret.
"Are you two done here? I'm talking to you, Steed." Emma had re-entered the room and was standing with arms akimbo.
Purdey went to sit in a club chair far enough away to be discreet.
"Absolutely, Emma, I'm completely at your disposal," Steed murmured, leaning back on the sofa.
"Fat lot of good you're going to do me, with two burned hands and a bad shoulder," Emma said under her breath as she dropped on the sofa beside him, but only Steed was close enough to catch it.
"I'm sure you underestimate me, darling," Steed drawled languidly.
Emma laughed aloud. She then kissed Steed gently as she brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. She then turned her attention to Purdey and Gambit "Thank you for looking after him, Purdey. I fear I've been a little rude to both of you. I'm a little rusty with dealing with diabolical masterminds. Steed has the uncanny ability to irritate me into a frenzy. But since I'm in love with him I shall have to learn to adapt. This whole situation is a little overwhelming. I hope you will forgive me and we all can be friends?" Emma gave them all a tight smile.
In reply, Gambit raised his glass to her, smiling gently.
"Well, I for one think it would be wonderful to have another woman around." Purdey affected a conspiratorial tone "To tell you the truth, they can be a little overwhelming together. They're both dreadful complainers and have never really pulled their weight with the kitchen duties. And, I'm always playing nursemaid. On the plus side, they do tend to pick up the bar bill."
"Yes, men. They do have their uses." Emma smiled. "How did you say this accident happened?"
"Actually, they didn't say." Purdey realized.
Steed cleared his voice, "yes, well. There was this flamethrower, and it had a vapor lock, then it abruptly backfired a bit..."
All three of his partners stared at Steed blankly.
"Had I known you were going to prevaricate, I wouldn't have bothered to ask. Why don't you two stay for dinner? I'm sure Steed has a chop, or two in the freezer. I'll cook," Emma said coolly.
"I'll help, Mrs. Peel."
"Please call me Emma, Purdey."
Alliances were formed and imaginary slights were forgotten. Gambit looked at Steed, as soft murmurs and peals of laughter came from the other room.
"Does that make you in the slightest bit nervous?" Gambit inclined his head towards the kitchen.
"Why should it? They don't have anything to talk about."
"Really, nothing? What about those dates that you and Purdey had?" Gambit had a smile on his face, but Steed could see a deeper question in his eye."
"They weren't dates. I took Purdey to the occasional dinner, sometimes a show she wanted to see. Why don't you and I go out to the terrace and have a cigar?"
Steed and Gambit sat on the low stone wall with their drinks between them.
"Here, Gambit, you irrepressible pyromaniac, give us a light." Steed leaned forward with his cigar and laughed low in his throat.
"You rather shocked me this evening." Gambit lit his and Steed's cigar and watched the other agent's eyebrows go up questioningly in the glow. "That was some of the worst lying I've ever witnessed. It gave me pause to wonder how you ever became the best undercover man in the business. More, importantly, how are you ever going to get away with anything with Mrs. Peel? You know, she's going to pry it out of you later."
"I'm sure I'll think of something to distract her," Steed said smoothly. "And about Purdey, a gentleman would neither ask, nor tell. But since you asked, and as it appears to be important to you, alas no."
Something in Gambit that he didn't know was tensed, relaxed. The silence was broken by a sharp whinny from the darkness. Steed and Gambit sat companionably in the darkness puffing gently on their cigars.
Steed finally spoke again, "I acquired a new mare last week. She's a complete thoroughbred, gorgeous, but high strung and a little skittish. The best one's always take a little special handling. A little more patience..."
"I don't think Purdey would appreciate you comparing her to a horse."
"Subtlety is completely wasted on you, my boy," Steed shook his head ruefully. "Play your cards right. Learn from my mistakes, and we could both be very lucky men," Steed turned his head to observe Emma and Purdey visible in the light of the kitchen as they prepared dinner. Gambit followed Steed's gaze and they both lost themselves in their smoky dreams of the future.
Dinner was served cozily around the kitchen table, later, the four adjourned to back to the living room.
"The plan is to have HQ London District surround and contain Hennessy's estate, and pick up any troops in place in London. They'll detain the lot at RAF Hamelin pending trials. As for the Four Horsemen, apparently they have enough evidence to press charges. All we have to do
is monitor the situation and try to remain inconspicuous .It will interesting to see if any of the four principles actually makes an appearance. Gambit, you and I have an early morning back at Glendronach Estate, it might be easier if you both stay the night pick any guest room. But my shoulder is aching and I'll think I'll go up and have a hot bath."
Emma sat up talking to the two agents for a discrete interval before following Steed upstairs.
Gambit broke the silence. "You know it's rather, I was going to say touching, how they can't seem to keep their hands off one another. I don't know that I've ever seen Steed behave that way around any other woman."
"Yes. It is rather sickening isn't it?" Purdey and Gambit both laughed.
"Purdey, I was wondering if you'd like to see the Borshoi Ballet? I see they're in town next week. I could get tickets."
"I thought you hated the ballet!"
"No, I don't hate it I've just never been properly introduced. I'm sure you could teach me to appreciate it properly. How did you get on with Mrs. Peel?"
"She was actually quite likable. She has a wry, naughty sense of humour. I think that she and Steed have a lot in common. Gambit, Steed said he was going to retire from the field."
"I know. I know."
Emma walked into Steed's master bath. "This is nice." She indicated the large whirlpool bath that Steed occupied, "It's huge."
"Yes, big enough for two. It's almost an occupational necessity. Nothing soothes inflamed tendons and muscles like hot water and massaging jets. The horse riding jangles my joints as well. My knees are getting creaky. You're going to be marrying a relic."
Emma shook her head, "I'm going to be marrying my handsome, mature knight in shining armor. Do you mind if I join you?"
"Madam, you can lash me with Hugh Hennessy's whip if I were mad enough to object."
Emma dropped her clothes to the floor and sat at the opposite end of the tub. "You've got that pensive look on your face. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking of how old I'm going to be when our children are of age. I wonder if I'm being selfish, wanting this. Maybe you'd be better off with a younger man."
"I see. The problem there is that I'm not in love with a younger man. I'm in love with you. What difference do a few years make? You're in better shape than most men half your age. I'd rather have thirty-something good years with you than fifty with someone else."
"I think thirty may be overly optimistic. That would make me eight-one."
"Well, your aunts are well into their nineties."
"In that case, this could be a bigger commitment than either of us initially realized. Do you think we should reconsider?" Upon hearing this, Emma flicked her right hand and liberally splashed Steed with bath water.
"Seriously. What if I'm in my dotage?"
"I don't know, Steed. I've learned to live in the present by necessity. Tomorrow always takes care of itself somehow. For all we know, I could die before you. The one thing I know for sure is that you had better never cheat on me, John Steed."
"I would never cheat on you, Emma. If I did, I'm sure you'd divorce me immediately."
"Divorce you? Darling, I would never let you off that lightly. I will kill you. And while we're being pragmatic, what are your plans about Edward? If he is your son?"
"I'm not going to lie to you. If Edward is mine, if at any time I am required due to circumstances, or at the request of Tara, I will fulfill my paternal responsibilities to my child; if that's a problem," Steed shrugged, "then that is, as you say, a deal breaker."
"No, that's the proper answer. Life is messy and complicated sometimes. I'm sure we'll cope. Why don't you let me soap your back?" Steed turned around to lie between Emma's legs with his head resting on her breasts.
"God, I do love you so, Emma."
"And I love you. But the water is getting cold. On the other hand, I'm warm, and you're warm, therefore, we're both alive. And that's all we need right now," Emma whispered in his ear. She pushed him forward and stood to step out. "Do you need a hand?"
"Actually, I could use two." He smiled sardonically. "Actually, that brings to mind what you asked me the first night we slept together."
"Ten years ago?"
"No. Two weeks ago. You asked me if being celibate meant that I hadn't even, well, I blush to say it."
"You blushing, I can't fathom it. Oh, but I was rather shocked when you said twice. I didn't understand you meant twice a day. Still too much of a good thing, is still a good thing."
"Yes. And Emma, about that hand..."
When Steed went downstairs the next morning the two younger agents had already fixed breakfast.
"So what uniform are you and Steed affecting?" Purdey looked up from her eggs.
"Well, according to Hennessy, hair shirts would be appropriate. Unfortunately, they're on back order at the ministry supply. Gambit and I will have to go mufti." Steed poured himself a black coffee and skipped the breakfast.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do all day while you and Gambit play soldier."
"Well, you could go back to HQ and see how the inter-department coordination efforts are progressing. You get on with MI5, you could make sure they share the ball and that everyone is playing well together."
"What about Emma?"
"She's still sleeping. I think she's exhausted Maybe you both need to go to HQ."
When Emma woke, Steed was gone. She reached her hand over to feel his side of the bed, but it was cold. He had apparently been gone for a while. She felt a momentary flash of irritation that he hadn't bothered to wake her, a feeling which was then quickly replaced by worry. She hurriedly grabbed his dressing gown and went downstairs hoping to catch him. Purdey was stacking the breakfast dishes when Emma came down.
"Ah, Emma. See, I'm still on KP. Steed and Gambit have gone to Glendronach. Steed suggested we both go to HQ see what's brewing."
Steed and Gambit arrived early at Glendronach and milled around with the rest of the recruits.
"Gambit, find out if the lorry drivers have their orders. We need to know exactly when and where the lorries are going to be placed for the London Strike. I'll see if I can have a chat with Hugh Hennessy."
While Gambit headed to the stables, Steed wandered over to the armory, "Look, who's the Stripey in charge? I want an immediate inventory of all munitions and weapons on hand. Including the nitrates, ammonium sulfate, and the JP-4," Steed slammed his hand down on the counter for emphasis.
Everyone snapped to attention. A short man with a mustache marched to the front counter, "Sgt. Dimple, reporting sir!"
"Well, get it done man! I'll be back in two hours for your report!"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Where's Hennessy?"
"He's in a meeting with Bell, and Walker."
"I need to reach him immediately. What's his location?"
"The Oxford and Cambridge Club."
When Steed called it was half past three, and Purdey and Emma had just finished their hasty briefing with Mother.
"Emma, I need you to go to the Oxford Cambridge Cub. You're a member there aren't you?"
"I'm a lady associate. I'm barred from the library and the main staircase. And I'll need a male escort to get in the member's bar."
"Sounds like a useless membership. I'm sure you and Purdey will have no trouble finding a couple of red- blooded males who will leap at the chance to escort two such charming specimens of English pulchritude. Bell, Walker and Hennessy are meeting there. The meeting may break up before you get there. If so, just talk to the staff, see if anyone overheard anything. "
Emma and Purdey took a taxi over to the club and spoke briefly to the manager. They loitered at the lobby before acquiring two young men who readily agreed to get them in the bar. They ordered G&T's and engaged the handsome bartender in a little harmless flirtation. They positioned themselves to observe the coming and goings of the members in the reflection of the ornate mirror located over the bar. After two rounds, their patience was rewarded by the sight of tall Hugh Hennessy, flanked by the squat Llewellyn Bell, and Jack Walker as they came down the main staircase. The three men stopped in the lobby and appeared to have a spirited discussion. Hennessy then exited the club, but Bell and Walker entered and took a small table at rear the bar. Both men were now in the direct line of sight of Emma and Purdey.
"What do you know about those two men?" Purdey asked of Harry the bartender.
"Oh, those two? They're regulars here. Neither gentleman is particularly pleasant. I've heard they have some alarming views on international politics. They always seem to start a row with the other members. Not to mention they're very bad tippers."
Emma smiled over at the two men who looked blankly back at her. Nonplussed, she continued to smile at them before turning away coquettishly. "Purdey, show them your teeth," Emma said in an aside. "Let's see if we can get them to invite us over."
Eventually, after much encouragement, Bell and Walker made their way over and introduced themselves. Emma and Purdey's original escorts looked miffed and made their excuses to leave when it became apparent that, for some inexplicable reason, the ladies seem to prefer the company of the two older men. Purdey and Emma entered into their third round of drinks, and were soon agreeing with all sorts of preposterous assertions and notions as expounded on by the two bellicose men. Yes, of course England had become a socialist nation, the only hope was to clamp down on immigration. And as for the energy crisis, why the most powerful nations in the world allowed themselves to be held hostage to backwards, oil rich emirates, was stark lunacy. What Great Britain needed, was strict spiritual guidance along with an almost dictatorship rule. Everyone had gotten entirely too soft and complacent after the war, and if the politicians were going to fleece the rich in order support the undeserving poor, than perhaps what was needed was a complete upheaval of politics and a new world order."
"I was stationed at Leningrad, near the end of the war when I first became acquainted with the concept of seed banking. Hitler blockaded Leningrad in 1941, and the scientists at the V.I. Vavilov Research Institute of Plant Industry, starved to death rather than eat the precious seeds they had so painstakingly cataloged and banked. Now, here was a valuable commodity; a commodity worth dying for. It occurred to me, that if the rest of the world's seed were to become blighted, then one would have an absolute monopoly. Here was the future of agribusiness in its infancy. The financial ramifications were unlimited. A man just had to be bold enough to see and seize the future. With the rest of the world dependent of England for seed, we could re-establish England as a world power. Those oil rich countries would pay nearly for their food. But even more important than this, would be the ability to control access to potable water. Water is the very essence of life. Without it, everything would wither to dust." Llewellyn Bell finished his whisky and slammed down his glass on the table. His blue eyes glittered with avarice and madness.
"You ladies might want to think of investing with our parent corporation ASTA. Better yet, maybe you would be interested in joining our Doomsday Group? Our group could benefit from the addition of two such beautiful and intelligent ladies," Walker said thoughtfully.
After the fourth round of drinks, Emma and Purdey allowed themselves to be nominated for membership and agreed to a meeting the following night at the Glendronach Estate. The four of them then sealed the motion with a toast to ASTA and England.
After much debate, Emma and Purdey firmly declined the offer of a ride from Walker and Bell. When the two gentlemen had left the premises, the barman called a cab and the two ladies staggered out into the night.
Gambit and Steed, who had been patiently waiting for the two women for the last hour, got out of the Range Rover and met them just as they were unsteadily preparing to enter the cab.
Gambit took Purdey by the elbow, "My God, you're both pickled!"
Steed who offered similar support to Emma, looked at both women incredulously. "I was going to suggest dinner, but perhaps a bicarbonate of soda would be more appropriate?"
"We're not sloshed. A little squiffy perhaps, but not sloshed," Emma enunciated each word carefully. "Oh, Steed, I'm so glad to see you!" She threw her arms around Steed.
And I'm glad to see you as well, my dear." Steed said in a bemused tone. "Why don't Gambit and I
take you two ladies home to sleep it off? You're both going to have terrible hangovers tomorrow."
"Yes," Purdey said with an attempt at dignity, "but we managed to chat with Walker and Bell, and we have been approved for membership with the Doomsday Group. We've been invited to a meeting tomorrow night."
Gambit whistled low. "That's very impressive, indeed."
"I can only hope that the other two fellows look much worse for wear." Steed shook his head sympathetically. Purdey and Gambit would have to collect more clothes since the four of them decided for the sake of expediency to stay together at Steed's country house.
About the time they reached Purdey's basement flat, both women had decided they were starving. The nearest restaurant was an Italian bistro conveniently located around the corner from Purdey's flat.
Gambit dropped the three at the front door and looked on amused as Steed struggled to get the two tipsy women to navigate down the narrow outside steps to the bistro. Just when Gambit thought he would have to intervene, Steed firmly grasped each around the waist with either arm and steadied both ladies through the door. They cut quite a swath through the little restaurant, the tall handsome gentleman, and the two, beautiful, very intoxicated ladies. No one in the party noticed the stares of their fellow diners as they walked to their table because Purdey and Emma were both oblivious, and because Steed was too embarrassed to look up. The waiter came over to take their orders and Steed immediately cancelled the drink request that Emma had made. "The ladies will have mineral water." Emma objected and began to order in fluent Italian. Steed swore under his breath. His Italian was rusty at best and he hated making a scene. If they wanted more wine, let it be on their heads. He wasn't going to argue, they were already tipsy, and apparently they were determined to be plastered. They were both adults. He only hoped Gambit would be back quickly from parking the car. He honestly didn't think he could handle both inebriated ladies.
When Gambit arrived to the table, both ladies excused themselves for the loo. "I can't believe you let those two order wine!"
"I couldn't stop them," Steed took the remaining wine and filled Gambit's glass to the top. "Let's see if you can prevent them from ordering more drinks. Emma's fluent in Italian. Good luck!"
The waiter returned with their orders. One of the advantages of being a regular patron was prompt service and the fact that and Steed had known exactly what to order for Gambit, which was lasagna. It was always lasagna. Emma ordered the porto bello ravioli, and insisted on feeding bits to Steed. "Yes, dear, it's delicious, but I have my own dinner," Steed protested in vain. Emma then insisted on kissing him in front of God and the rest of the diners. She then announced to no one in particular, "Purdey, we have the two must attractive men in the entire restaurant. God, they're tall, dark and handsome. Have you ever noticed that they both have the sexiest cleft chins? Not to mention their wavy hair. God, they're both so sexy."
Steed looked at Emma apprehensively.
Emma then turned to Steed, "You never show me any affection in public. You've never even so much as held my hand. I'd almost think that you're ashamed of me John Steed."
"Now you're just being ridiculous. You know we never wanted anyone to know we were a couple. It was part of the subterfuge."
She then kissed Steed again and he kissed her back passionately. He broke it off and looked in her eyes with an amused smile. "Anymore, and we're going to need to get a room. I think we've
sufficiently scandalized the other patrons. Please keep your hands above the table, darling. My poor heart couldn't take any more excitement tonight."
Purdey was thinking about what Mrs. Peel had said about Gambit's cleft chin and curly hair. She was right, both Steed and Gambit were incredibly sexy men. Steed was taken, but she couldn't remember exactly why it was she was holding Mike Gambit at arm's length.
"Alright," Emma smiled and dropped her hands from the grasp she had of the back of Steed's neck.
"But only if you promise to snog me all the way back to Wiltshire."
"I promise, but only if Gambit drives."
When the ladies once again trooped to the loo, Steed grabbed Gambit and hissed, "Mike, I'm going to have to ask you to take one for the team. I want you to monopolize the wine. I'll water theirs down," Steed poured the carafe of water into the wine glasses and topped it off with a little wine.
"I thought I was driving back to Wiltshire!"
"No. I'm driving," Steed said firmly.
"But you're supposed to snog Mrs. Peel..."
"Absolutely not, Emma has four stages to inebriation, tipsy, and then sloshed. She's sloshed."
"But you said there were four stages?"
"Sloshed has three stages, first she gets, well, tactile. The second stage is the 'do me in the taxi mode' the last stage is where I'll have to physically carry her out. I think we're cycling through rather rapidly. We may have already crossed the Rubicon. They must have been drinking on an empty stomach. That's why you're driving. Emma is typically very reserved in public, but she has a definite wild streak. I don't want her swan diving into the Thames. G&T's are a lethal cocktail for her. Remind me sometime to tell you the Tequila Tales."
"God, you're a lucky man. Maybe you would like me to sit in the back with her?"
"Just do what I asked of you, Mike," Steed said wearily. "How does Purdey function sloshed?"
"I wish I knew, Steed."
"Well, you're not going to find out tonight. She's beyond the legal limit."
"Yes, of course. But what if they are your regular girlfriend, or perhaps, say your fiancé?
"That's a very good question."
The rest of the evening passed relatively, uneventfully and the agents soon collected their things and were driving back to Wiltshire. Somehow, Emma managed to stretch out in the front seat and had her head on Steed's thigh. It looked devilishly uncomfortable, but she was almost boneless now. The moon shone over the English country side and the wind blew briskly enough to rush the clouds across the moon, but not briskly enough to make it too chilly. Steed rolled the windows down a bit and they enjoyed the fragrant smell of the newly turned earth in the fields.
When they arrived at the estate, Steed went around to the passenger side door and scooped Emma in his arms. She whispered in his ear and he replied, "That's an interesting suggestion, we'll have to try that sometime when we're both sober." He turned to Gambit and Purdey, "Goodnight. See you both in the morning. Not too early." He then turned and carried Emma up the stairs like it was an everyday occurrence.
Maybe it was the drink, or perhaps it was just a romantic spring evening, but for some unknown reason, Purdey grabbed Gambit and gave him a quick kiss before heading up the stairs. Mike stood there stunned for a good five minutes, before shrugging his shoulders and going up to bed.
The next day Steed talked Gambit into going out to the paddock with him to learn to play polo. "It's a very physical game. It takes strength and quick reflexes; I think that it would suit you. We wear the same size shoe. I've got an old pair of boots you can have. Wear your jeans and I'll get you a helmet."
"I don't know I prefer boxing."
"But Gambit, people hit you in the face boxing. Sometimes repeatedly," Steed made a slight grimace. "Look you can come out here and practice with me anytime. You might even want to get on a team. I'll help you."
"I don't know, Steed. It seems too gentrified to me."
"Gambit, I think it would further your career. You make too much of this class thing. It's the man that matters, not your lineage." They managed a couple of chukkas before going back to the house for a late lunch.
"Don't mention anything to Emma about last night; she will have forgotten the more colorful incidents."
"Blackouts?"
"Discretion."
Purdey and Emma were nursing their hangover with black coffee and lots of orange juice.
Gambit and Purdey adjourned to the solarium to play scrabble. Emma and Steed lounged in the library where it was dark and cool.
"I see you went riding with Gambit this morning?
"Yes, I think he would make a good polo player."
"You're playing Pygmalion."
"I'm not playing at anything."
"You're match-making."
"What's wrong with that, Gambit needs a bit of smoothing out. Purdey will be perfect for him. They're very fond of one another."
"Gambit is fine the way he is."
"Yes, I seem to remember that you announced how attractive he was last night," Steed who was stretched out on the sofa beside her lifted his head to look at her blandly.
"I'm sure I said no such thing." But all the same two vertical frown lines appeared between her eyes.
"Emma, pass me that book by your head. I always hate waiting for meetings. It keys me up."
"Purdey and I are having the meeting."
"That's even worse. I'll be left pacing the floor."
Purdey and Emma left for their meeting at 730pm. Gambit and Steed played snooker and tried to put their worry out of their minds. By 11pm, they could no longer pretend that everything was fine. Steed threw his billiard stick on the table. "Alright, then. That's it."
Gambit put on his jacket and retrieved his gun. Steed took his out of his desk drawer.
"How much ammo do you have, Steed?"
"Two clips."
"I can't think why you haven't gone to a more modern pistol with a bigger clip."
"This is all I've ever needed."
Steed gained entry to the grounds and went straight to the library where Hennessey, Bell, Walker and Dewar were burning the midnight oil making their final plans. He entered through the terrace doors having slipped the simple locks with his plastic ministry pass. He covered them all with his Walther and sat down in the leather wing chair opposite Hugh Hennessy. He pulled a cigar from his inside coat pocket and lit it with a lighter from the desk, "I hope you don't mind if I smoke?"
"Who are you?" Jack Walker shouted.
"Just a quiet professional," Steed laughed at his own joke.
"I know you," Llewellyn Bell finally spoke. He had been staring intently at Steed and a certain dawning recognition lit his features. "You're John Steed. I remember you from Leningrad. You haven't changed that much since 1944."
"No, I don't suppose that either of us has really changed all that much. You're still as unpleasant now as you were then. But this isn't really a social call. The reason for my visit is that you're holding something that I want back, namely, Emma and Purdey, the two young ladies that came here earlier tonight. I was expecting them back hours ago."
Hugh spoke first, "I'm not sure which ladies you're referring to."
"Well, let me refresh your memory, they're both quite beautiful, one tall with long auburn hair, the other tall with blonde bobbed hair. They're not really the type to go unnoticed. Or unmissed," Steed said pointedly. "And as for this other thing that you four have cooked up, I'm afraid that we can't really have you terrorizing the populace and randomly blowing up things. Your men have already been intercepted with the explosives."
At this moment Gambit kicked down the interior library door. He had his gun out and in the ready position.
"Where are Purdey and Emma?"
"By the time you find them, it will be too late."
Gambit fired a warning shot that whizzed by Jack Walker's left ear. "My next shot will be a little more to the right."
"You can't…" Jack Walker didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. Gambit fired one perfect round to his forehead and he slumped backwards. "I'm not really in the mood for you to tell me what I can, and can't do. Who's next, gentlemen?"
"I think you need to tell Gambit what he wants to know. He's very impetuous."
"If you kill us all, you'll never find out where the two ladies are."
"Yes, but we only need one of you alive. The other four, well three now, are expendable," Steed said in a reasonable tone.
Llewellyn Bell reached for the telephone and called down to the armory, "Sgt. Dimple, please bring the two young ladies to the library. We're not going to need you to hold them after all." He hung up the phone and looked over at Steed. "There, happy now?"
"Not really," Steed said concentrating on his cigar. It took twenty minutes for the women to be escorted to the library.
"Gambit, Steed! I was wondering if you two were going to make it. I kept expecting the big bang!" Purdey looked between her two partners with a wide grin.
"Of course, we made it in time. When have we ever let you down?"
Emma walked over to Steed, "I had complete faith in you, darling."
"Thank you, Mrs. Peel," Steed murmured. "Gambit, I need you to take the ladies to safety. I lied when I said that your men were intercepted. They managed to get by MI5. I'm going to need you to show me every location where you planted the explosives. Time is of the essence. " Steed pulled out a city map of London and spread it on the desk.
"I have no intention of telling you that."
"I was afraid you were going to play it like this. Gambit, it's time for you to leave."
"We're not going to leave you," Emma said looking for support from Purdey and Gambit.
Steed's eyes never left Gambit's. "I need all three of you to leave now. I want you to secure the door from the outside."
Gambit nodded once hard. Purdey and Gambit took Mrs. Peel by either arm and she looked as if she were going to object strenuously. "We'll secure the perimeter."
"Don't make a scene, Emma." Steed said gently.
When the door had closed, Steed smoked for a few minutes more, and then pulled three sticks of dynamite out of his side pocket and casually lit the single fuse with his cigar.
"I believe this is what is called a Mexican Standoff."
All three of the men looked at the burning fuse with horrified fascination.
"You're going to blow yourself up," Hugh Hennessy said incredulously.
"Yes, and you too if it comes to that. I can be as unreasonable as the next fellow. Ask Mrs. Peel.
I'm ready to meet my maker. Are you, Hugh? You know the speech you made the other day about having a cause to die for; I was wondering how much of that was hyperbole?"
"He's bluffing. He doesn't want to die. You have a beautiful woman who is obviously very fond of you," Llewelyn Bell spoke smoothly.
"That's true. But the sad fact is that if I allow you to kill all those people in London, it's going to cast a pall over our relationship. She'll never be able to fully forgive me. Eventually, I'm afraid she'll think less of me. I can assure you, I'm fully committed. Why do you think I sent my colleagues to safety?"
"For God's sake man!"
"Interesting choice of words. The fuse is getting short," Steed examined it regretfully.
"Alright, alright." Hugh grabbed the map and began furiously circling landmarks on the map. "The Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's Cathedral, Covent Garden…"
"Is this all of them?"
"Yes! Yes!" The veins were popping out on Hugh's neck.
"What, no Parliament? Not a really a surprise among them," Steed rose to collect the map.
"The fuse." Llewellyn croaked.
"Yes, the fuse. Here. You take it." Steed thrust it at the three men. They shrank back away from the terrace doors panicked. Steed looked at the fuse askance, "it really is getting short." He tossed his cigar and the dynamite at the three and bolted through the doors running for his life. The blast caught him and propelled him ass over teacups. He came to in the bushes by the fountain, and gingerly examined himself. Everything seemed intact. Emma ran up to him pursued in short order by Gambit and Purdey.
"Are you all right?" Emma knelt by his side.
"I'm fine. What happened to Gambit's nose?"
Gambit's reply was muffled by the handkerchief he was using to try to staunch the flow of blood.
"I'm not sure my hearings not been affected, I can't understand what you're saying."
Gambit took the cloth away from his nose and mouth, "Mrs. Peel broke my nose."
Steed looked at Emma shocked.
"I'll explain it later. Did you get the locations?"
"Yes."
Purdey looked at the collapsing building, "We're going to have to call out the fire brigade. Do you think they're all dead?"
"I'm fairly certain."
break
"All I'm asking is, was it necessary to blow them all up? Along with the house? It was one of the finest examples of Elizabethan architecture in Britain." Mother puffed his cigar indignantly.
"Yes, it was a shame about the house," Steed murmured sympathetically. "But by and large, I think everything ended rather well. Catastrophe was averted, and the British public was none the wiser to their eminent danger. Did I mention that I was resigning? I'm getting married. And after all, all's well that ends well."
"Ends well? As usual you burnt the whole thing down to ashes." Mother examined the tip of his cigar. "And married? That's ludicrous. To whom?
"Mrs. Peel."
"That makes a modicum of sense. Your resignation is rejected." Mother drew a heavily embossed letter out of his inner breast pocket. "My resignation went through last week. I'm afraid it's a case of tag you're it." Mother thrust the orders at Steed. "I think you'll find everyone has signed off at the appropriate level."
fini