This story copyright © 2003 Mia McCroskey
Characters from The Avengers and other sources are the property of their respective owners.
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Steed goes underwater
Emma dives in
Chapter 9
True to his word, Barr steered the boat out of Virgin Gorda's North Sound between treacherous reefs. Then he had them adjust the sails as he changed course, heading west and south back toward Tortola. Lee had gone up to the bow to sit with Amanda and they were clearly quite comfortable there. Barr glanced at Steed and patted the wheel, his brows rising with a silent offer.
"Love too," Steed replied, rising to slip behind the wheel.
"She's balanced, and tender. Got her?"
"Just how I like my women," Steed muttered, taking the wheel. Barr cast him a surprised look, then looked at Emma, clearly wondering about his previous assumptions. Emma groaned and shook her head.
"Incorrigible," she said. Steed grinned affectionately at her. "Shall I help you?" she asked Barr.
"Sure," he started down the companionway ladder.
"Be good," Steed said as Emma moved to follow.
"Have you been in this business for long?" Barr asked, poking his head into an icebox under a hinged lid built into a counter in the galley.
"A few years, on and off," Emma replied, studying the boat's interior. The classic lines and woodwork she had noted outside were carried through inside. The combined salon and galley were finished with warm wood and tasteful fabrics. A shelf of books included sailing manuals and light fiction. Radios, including a single sideband like the one on Slip Stream, and other instruments were mounted above the navigation desk. The galley was equipped with a propane stove, stainless steel sink, and the cooler that Barr had his head in. Doors at the forward end of the salon and aft, behind the navigation desk, must lead to cabins. It was smaller than Slip Stream, but Emma preferred the wood and efficient use of space.
"Part-timer?" Barr asked, emerging from the cooler with various items in his hands.
"Something like that," Emma replied, unwilling to reveal her history without a better understanding of who Barr was. He set several bottles of beer in the sink and reached back into the cooler.
"There's a bucket on the floor, under the table. Put the beer in it and I'll dig out some ice," he instructed. Emma followed his orders, placing the canvas bucket on the counter next to the sink. He dropped two big hands full of chipped ice into the bucket, then pulled two more beers out of the cooler and opened them on a metal opener mounted on the bulkhead. He handed one to her and took a swig of his. "Reward for helping," he explained. She took a big gulp, thinking that she needed to consume something other than alcohol soon.
Barr produced a tray from a low cabinet and set several foil-wrapped packages from the cooler on it. "Cheese and stuff. Unwrap them and I'll try to find some crackers that aren't soggy."
Emma put her beer in the sink so it wouldn't tip as the boat rolled over the swells and started opening the packages.
"So are you a ėpart timer'?" she asked.
"Civilian aid, you might say," he replied. "They call on me when they need someone who knows his way around and won't stand out. I'm known up and down Caribbean, so I'm practically invisible."
"A ėtalented amateur'," Emma said, smiling.
He nodded, "you could say that. You too?"
She shrugged, deciding that she liked Barr. His understated modesty was very nearly British, although he was clearly American, "I've been called that," she said. He set a box of crackers on the tray and paused to sip his beer, watching her as he did.
"It's a tough business. Not many ėamateurs' in it. How'd you get involved?"
"I was recruited for some of my -- less obvious -- talents," she said, knowing he had taken the time to admire her body and wishing she had more clothes.
"By Steed?" he asked, focusing his attention on the contents of a drawer.
"Yes."
He found a pair of mismatched paring knives in the drawer and set them on the tray with the cheeses and length of hard salami that Emma had unwrapped. He grinned up at her, "balanced and tender, hum?" he asked, then laughed at her annoyed expression. "Sorry," he added, taking several apples and pears out of a net bag hanging over the sink and adding them to the tray.
"My balance is certain," she replied, regaining her composure, "as for tenderness, that's a matter of opinion."
"And I suspect there's only one opinion that matters to you," he nodded, sipping his beer. "Too bad."
Barr took the helm back while the others consumed the snack that he and Emma brought up, then handed it over to Amanda while he went below to see what spare clothes he could find.
"People are always leaving things behind," he explained as he climbed down the companionway ladder. "I'm sure I can scare up some shirts, if nothing else. And the water tanks are full, so you can all have short showers."
"That would be my idea of heaven right now," Amanda said.
When Barr had gone Lee finished off his beer and cleared his throat. "I've been thinking," he said, looking at each of the others in turn. "About what Barr said."
"About someone wanting to keep us out of the way," Steed said, nodding.
"Do you think we've been diverted?" Emma asked. When Barr left she'd scooted closer to Steed for warmth as the sun descended. He obligingly put his arm around her shoulders.
"Could be," he said. "Could your call have been intercepted, Lee?"
Lee shrugged, "It would have to be someone inside the Elder 6 project: the recognition codes checked out. I spoke to the communications officer. He told me to expect the pick-up, and Barr showed up."
"But maybe Barr wasn't our contact after all," Amanda said in a hushed voice. Her grip on the wheel was tense.
"I think he's legitimate," Emma said. Steed looked at her, brows raised. She threw him a teasing smile.
"We could mutiny," Lee suggested, "take the boat to the nearest town near an airport and --."
"Catch a plane in our bathing suits?" Amanda asked. "Without passports?"
"And no money. That would be a challenge," Emma chuckled.
"I think we should play it out," Steed said. "If Mrs. Peel is right, then we can count on Barr to help if something happens. If not, well, there are four of us to one of him."
"One now, but if we're met by another squad of assasins --."
Amanda stopped mid-sentence as Barr's head appeared in the companionway.
"I've dug out clothes and some toiletries," he said. "Everything's down here on the table. I can take the helm while you sort through it."
"Lee, what was that?" Amanda sat up on the berth they were sharing and shook his shoulder.
"What?" he mumbled, his face buried in a pillow. They had been on watch until thirty minutes before. Lee had fallen asleep the moment he laid down, but Amanda had been lying awake, still not convinced that Barr, who had taken over from them, could be trusted.
"It sounds like a motor, outside," she said, shaking him until he rolled onto his back, coming fully awake. He froze, listening to the sound she had heard. There was a thump right above their heads and he sat up and slid off the berth to his feet.
The cabin door was open to allow air circulation. Lee slipped out into the dark salon and looked through the companionway, staying well back in the shadows away from the opening.
Barr stood stiffly at the helm, an atypical stance for him -- earlier he had steered with his feet while seated in the back corner of the cockpit. As Lee studied him, Barr's eyes flicked down to Lee, then to his extreme left, then back at Lee. Lee nodded, then pointed up. Barr's eyes looked up and to port, then back at Lee. Lee nodded. There was a man to Barr's left, and another up on deck, on the port side. At least two.
"How many?" Lee mouthed. Barr adjusted his grip on the wheel so Lee could see four fingers. He nodded, moving further forward into the darkness and gesturing to Amanda to follow him. He placed his mouth next to her ear, "wake Steed and Emma," he said.
Amanda crept past him and into the forward cabin. The bunk was empty. Dim moonlight filtering in through the tinted hatch above the berth revealed a rumpled sheet and pillows that bore the indentations of heads. Then Emma's pale, round face caught the light: the English woman was crouching in the sail storage space further forward. Then Amanda noticed that the door to the head on the right side of the cabin was cracked open. She saw a sliver of Steed's face through the crack. He nodded at her and she started to back out of the cabin. There was a thump above their heads and she glanced upward. A shadow moved across the hatch -- a hand holding a gun outlined by the bright moon.
Amanda crept back into the salon, eyes fixed on the hatch. She jumped as Lee put his hands on her shoulders from behind. He pressed her down and under the big dining table in the salon, then crouched down under it with her.
"They're getting into position," Lee whispered at the sound of another thump above them.
"Put her into the wind," the man crouched at the back of the cockpit near Barr ordered. Barr obliged, turning the boat a full ninety degrees to starboard until she pointed the direction that the wind was blowing from. With the wind no longer coming from behind to fill them, the sails began to shudder loudly. The boom swung across the deck to the centerline, shuddering and rattling.
A man who had been crouching on the cabin roof jumped down through the companionway just as the boom swept across the deck. He landed on the floor at the base of the ladder and swung round into the narrow space behind the navigation desk, aiming and firing through the open door into the cabin where Lee and Amanda had been resting.
At the same time shots were fired up on the bow. The forward hatch shattered under the impact and the berth was riddled with bullets. The gunman on the bow crouched to avoid being struck by the flapping jib and jib sheets.
The third man on deck ducked under the swinging boom and stood by the shrouds, aiming his gun at Barr.
The man on the bow kicked the remains of the hatch out and dropped down through it, landing on the bullet-shredded berth. Steed burst out of the head, throwing himself on the man and pinning him to the berth. The man heaved up, throwing Steed to the right and firing his gun over his shoulder at him. His shot missed, barely, as Steed flattened himself on the berth. Emma reached out to slip a heavy winch handle into Steed's hand. He glanced over and winked at her, then rolled back toward the gunman swinging the handle at his head. It connected with a sickening crack and the man slumped on the berth. Steed rose and rolled him over, removing the gun from his hand.
In the salon, Lee slipped out from under the table and stepped up behind the gunman who was firing into the aft cabin. Lee took a heavy brass lantern from the hook it hung on over the navigation desk and slammed it on the back of the gunman's head. To his surprise, the man swung around, dazed but not knocked out. But he was trapped in the narrow space between the navigation desk and the aft cabin doorway. Lee swung hard and hit him in the face, then grabbed his gun arm and banged it on the desk. The gunman dropped the gun on the desk and Amanda popped up and grabbed it as Lee landed a final punch.
At the sound of the gunshots, Barr spun the wheel back to leeward, throwing himself at the man beside him with the gun at the same time. The boom swung out to port as the boat turned and the wind re-filled the sail. The man standing by the shrouds threw his hands up in front of his face as the varnished wooden spar slammed into him, lifting him over the lifelines and overboard, just as Barr had intended.
The man beside Barr fired as he fell backwards, off balance as the boat heeled. A streak of fire seared Barr's scalp and he collapsed on top of the man. Bright lights shot across his vision, and his right eye was blinded. He clawed his way to his knees, feeling flesh and bone beneath his hands and knees. Through his left eye he saw that the gunman had slipped between the upper and lower lifelines with his legs still in the cockpit and his torso hanging out over the side of the boat. He held on to the upper lifeline with one hand. The other hand held the gun, which was aimed at Barr.
Hoping his vision was impaired and the gun wasn't really pointed right at him, Barr grabbed for it, wrapping both hands around the man's wrist and squeezing. Barr's hands and forearms were conditioned from years of hauling lines and steering his boat through rough weather. He felt bone grind against bone in the man's wrists as he squeezed, but the man's cry of pain was drowned out by the sound of water rushing past just below him. The man's grip loosened under the pressure and the gun started to slip. With an angry cry the man let go of the lifeline to grab the gun. Barr shoved at him, pressing him toward the water just as the lower lifeline snapped. The man's thighs hit the deck with a crack, then he started to slide into the water. Barr let go of his hands and gave his knees a push and he disappeared over the side.
Barr fell back onto the aft bench and automatically put his hands on the wheel, bringing the boat back onto a proper course so that the sails filled and she sprang forward.
Emma poked her head out of the companionway and saw Barr, his head covered in blood. She climbed out, glancing around for any more attackers, and slipped behind the wheel to inspect the skipper.
"He just grazed me," he croaked. Emma studied his head and decided she agreed. "Anyone hurt?" he asked. She had to smile at his bravado.
"Just you. And all of them. Where's your first aid kit?"
"On the starboard side shelf just forward of the galley."
"I'd suggest you move, but I guess you can steer this boat half conscious. So just wait here," she climbed back around the wheel and back below. Lee and Steed had dragged both men onto the forward berth and Amanda was in the process of tying them up.
"Barr's hurt?" Steed asked her as she squeezed past him and located the first aid kit.
"A flesh wound," she said. "Bullet grazed him. One of you could come steer so I can see to it."
She climbed back out into the cockpit and settled next to Barr, opening the first aid kit between them.
"Don't worry, Barr," she said as she used a piece of gauze to wipe the blood away from the long wound, "I've worked undercover as a nurse several times."
Barr laughed, making Emma smile as she pressed fresh gauze against his head to try to stop the bleeding. "And have you ever lost a patient?" he asked. She thought about it for a moment.
"Never due to my treatment," she said. "It's always complications."
"Let me take the wheel," Amanda said coming up behind her. "You need light to do that properly."
"Yes. Thanks," Emma picked up Barr's left hand and pressed it to the gauze on this head. "Hold that, and come with me," she instructed him, closing the first aid kit. Amanda slipped behind the wheel from the other side forcing Barr to follow Emma.
"Where are we?" Amanda asked from her position at the helm. Lee was beside her easing the line on the small powerboat that their attackers had arrived in so they towed it further behind them. Steed, Emma, and Barr, his head wrapped in a bandage, climbed out into the cockpit and handed their companions mugs of hot coffee. "Oh, thank you," Amanda added, sipping the warm liquid.
"That's St. Thomas," Barr indicated a mound of dark land studded with a few lights off to the south. "We're about thirty miles from San Juan. That's about four hours sailing, except that thing's slowing us down," he glanced at the powerboat. "It'll be more like five and a half. If we keep it."
"I think we should," Steed said. "I'm tired of having to accept too few options."
"Agreed," Lee said, watching Amanda steer. The breeze was picking up and she was having to put some effort into it. But she seemed content.
"Eight men and two boats in less than twenty-four hours," Emma said, sipping her coffee. "Who has resources like that?"
"This lot wasn't as good as the last," Steed observed, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Perhaps they've finally run out."
It was nearly ten o'clock in the morning when Barr, his head throbbing but his pride requiring that he drive his own boat, docked them in a marina in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Lee and Emma handed the dock lines to dock boys and Barr shut down the engine. The sails were down and flaked, the lines all properly coiled. Steed had radioed in and learned that Lee and Amanda's supervisor was there to meet them. This had sent Amanda into the head with a washcloth and hairbrush.
A man and woman came along the dock toward them, the man calling to Lee as they approached. Lee jumped onto the dock and went to meet them. Emma stood on the boat by the shrouds watching. He was a portly black man in a lightweight suit. Despite his bulk, he seemed light on his feet, and his face was both intelligent and friendly as he greeted Lee. The woman was tall, blond, and dressed to kill in a white linen suit and low-heeled pumps that tapped loudly on the dock as she walked. She carried a bulky portfolio and a Gucci handbag just large enough for a gun. She appeared to be all business, although her greeting for Lee was also warm.
Emma heard Steed and Amanda climbing into the cockpit and glanced at them. Amanda tied her soiled shirt in a knot at her waist over her bathing suit. She was wearing a pair of running shorts from Barr's supplies, and she had obviously taken a moment to see to her appearance. Curious, Emma watched her friend step off the boat. Lee and the new comers walked back to the boat, stopping on the dock next to where Emma stood on deck.
"Billy, Francine, this is Lady Emma Peel," Lee said. "Emma, this is Billy Melrose and Francine Desmond. Them, we can trust."
"How do you do?" Emma said, remembering that Amanda had described Mr. Melrose to her during their long hours on Slip Stream. Amanda was quite fond of the man.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady Emma," Billy replied. "Your reputation precedes you."
"Yes," Francine added. Emma sensed insincerity and wondered why. "Oh, Amanda, there you are!"
Emma watched Amanda and Francine share a light embrace, then Amanda shook Billy's hand.
"It's so good to see you both," she said.
"And we're glad to see you too, Amanda. It looks as if you've had a rough trip," Billy replied.
"Very. A bit overwhelming for you, Amanda?" Francine drawled, looking Amanda up and down. Now Emma understood Amanda's attempt at freshening up. But it hardly seemed worth it -- clearly no matter how she looked this Francine person would have been catty.
"And this is John Steed," Lee added, noticing that Steed had stepped up on deck next to Emma.
"Melrose," Steed said, nodding at Billy.
"Good to see you again, Steed," Billy replied, then seeing the others' surprised looks he added, "Steed and I worked together a few times -- when I was still in the field," he looked appraisingly at Steed's lean, somewhat scarred frame, which was revealed by the swimming trunks and polo shirt he was wearing. "And it doesn't look like you're planning to give it up any time soon."
"No," Francine said, eyeing Steed. "Francine Desmond," she said, stepping closer to offer Steed her hand.
"A pleasure," he said, shaking it. He cast Francine one of his most flirtatious smiles, then glanced at Emma to see if she'd noticed. She pursed her lips at him and he winked. Francine caught the exchange and stepped back, avoiding Emma's sharp look.
"We've arranged hotel rooms for you all to use, and you're booked on flights this evening," Billy said. "We'll take you there and you can rest, then we'll debrief you before you go."
"Go?" Lee said, his meaning clear.
"Go. You four are too hot here. We've got other agents on it."
"Billy, this is our case. Someone out there wants us dead. You bet I'm hot."
But Billy just shook his head. "Francine has your documents and there's luggage for you at the hotel."
"Let's get some rest, Lee, and we can discuss it later," Amanda suggested, putting her arm through his. He glanced at her then nodded.
"Okay. Fine."
Francine opened her portfolio and handed thick folders to each of them. Then she looked past Lee and Amanda into the cockpit of the boat.
"Barr?" she said, stepping around the agents and raising a foot to climb up on the boat. Barr, who was standing by the companionway, cast a sharp look at her foot and raised his hand. She stopped mid step and put her foot back on the dock. Slipping out of her shoes with an apologetic smile she stepped up on to the boat. She stepped into the cockpit and to the complete surprise of everyone, including, it seemed, Barr, she leaned forward and kissed him. "You're wounded. Nobody told me you'd been hurt," she glanced at the others, focusing on Billy, "Where's that medical team?"
"Coming, Francine," Billy said.
Barr looked supremely embarrassed by her attention. "It's not that bad, Francine," he muttered. "Let it go."
"No way. You need to see a doctor."
"I need my boat to see a doctor," he replied.
Emma sat down on the bed in the room she'd been shown to and opened the folder Francine had handed her. She removed a new British passport, then looked inside the folder to find driver's license, credit card, and other forms of identification, as well as two bundles of cash -- US Dollars and British Pounds. She opened the passport and gasped in surprise. A knock on the door to the adjoining room drew her attention and she rose and walked over to unlock and open it.
Steed leaned on the doorframe holding out a glass of bubbling champagne. She smiled at the twinkle in his eye and took it, then walked back toward the bed. He followed her.
"Where did these documents come from, do you think?" she asked, opening the passport again. He glanced over her shoulder at it, then looked again.
"Our people. They would have made them up when we reported Slip Stream's loss and flown them here overnight."
"Well, it seems that they've taken care of a bit of red-tape on my behalf," she said. Steed took a gulp of his champagne, then leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You are set on being known as Emma Knight again," he pointed out.
Emma sighed and replaced the passport in the folder. "My old one was nearly expired," she said.
"Well then, they've done you a double favor," he replied, although he could tell she didn't regard the replacement as a favor.
"The old one had so many visas and stamps," she said, sitting down on the bed. He sat down beside her, slipping his arm around her. She looked into his eyes and he saw that she was genuinely sad. "I used to like to look through it. It was like a memory book. Paris, Venice, Berlin . . ."
"Time to start over. There will be new ones in there soon enough darling," he said, pressing his lips to her forehead. She smiled and raised her face, bringing her lips to his. They were both too weary to share more than a warm, gentle kiss.
"I need a shower," she said. "So do you."
"And then come lie down," he said. She nodded rising and crossing to the suitcase that sat open on a luggage rack. He rose too, crossing back to his room.
A few minutes later Emma, wrapped in a towel, walked into Steed's room. He was already in the bed, the complimentary bathrobe tossed across the foot.
"No pajamas in your luggage?" she asked, dropping her towel and climbing in with him.
"I didn't notice," he sighed sleepily, rolling onto his side to pull her into a face-to-face embrace.
"Me either," she said, running one hand up and down his back, the other between them just touching his chest. He sighed, his eyes closed. She touched her lips to his nose and snuggled in, closing her own eyes, feeling warm, protected, and loved.
The simultaneous ringing of two telephones jolted Steed and Emma from deep sleep. Realizing that one of the phones was in her room, Emma started to get up. Steed caught her hand and held her back as he picked up the phone by his side of the bed, listened for a moment, and hung up. Emma's phone stopped ringing.
"Wake up calls," he said as she settled back into the bed and his embrace.
"What time is it?"
Steed squinted at the clock next to the phone. "Three o'clock."
"Uffff," she groaned. "Will I never get a full eight hours sleep again?"
"You've never needed eight hours of sleep," he pointed out. She could tell that the four or so hours they'd just gotten had refreshed him, as it usually did.
"Only because, with you around, I am never able to get it," she said. He chuckled, his hand wandering across her bare abdomen. "If you start that, they'll be knocking at the door before we're done," she warned, then sat up and moved away from him. He reached after her, but she dodged him. "You know, there is something rather important they failed to include in their little packet," she said, realization just dawning.
"What's that?" he asked, giving up his pursuit and relaxing back into the pillows.
"My pills."
He stared at her. "When can you get more?"
She grinned at the urgency in his voice. "I'd have to get the prescription -- it's at the estate. And I use a London chemists -- not the one in the village."
"But how many days can you miss? Before it becomes a -- a risk?"
"None, darling, and I've already missed today," she rose to her hands and knees and crawled up to loom over him. She watched him for a moment, saw him forcefully resist his normal reaction to her proximity, which was to reach up and pull her to him. Then she bent down and kissed him, amused at his attempt not to react. "Really, Steed, there are other methods," she giggled. He looked at once frustrated and embarrassed. "Get dressed." She crawled off the bed and walked back to her room.
"Steed, you took the news of being sent home rather well," Emma said as they entered the elevator a few minutes later.
"We have not been sent home, my dear. The Americans have."
"Now Steed, I think Mr. Melrose was quite clear --."
"However, Mrs. Peel, we do not work for Mr. Melrose," Steed pointed out. Emma nodded, pursing her lips. Steed smiled wickedly at her. "We shall hear what the Americans have to say, and then decide on our course of action."
"We've identified a potential leak in the Elder 6 project," Billy Melrose said. The four agents and Melrose had been seated at a secluded table in the hotel restaurant. A waiter had taken their orders for a late lunch then disappeared. There was a sixth place at the table, but Francine had not joined them.
"Who?" Amanda asked.
"Congressman Sam Holbrook."
"Holbrook's supported Elder 6 from the beginning," Lee said. "He's the reason the project got funded last term."
"And he sits on various committees overseeing the military," Amanda added.
"And he owns a vacation home overlooking the bay where the submarines rendezvoused," Billy said. "The neighbors, and there aren't very many, report seeing several men in the house for two days prior to the meeting. We had a tough time explaining that battle, by the way. Good thing there are only a few houses on that part of the island. Some of them are still insisting that we needed their permission to film a movie in the bay."
"Who were the men in the house?" Emma asked, not expecting the Americans to have found that out.
"As luck would have it," Billy said, "the immigration agent on the island recognized one of the men when they arrived. He was on a watch list, so she filed the usual report. It turned up when we started investigating, and we were able to get a positive identification from one of the more curious neighbors."
"And?" Lee prompted.
"He's one Marcos Portillo, a flunkey for the Angelo ėthe Angel' Morillo -- remember him?"
Lee nodded, but the others looked blank. "Morillo's a black market arms dealer. Guns, rockets, vehicles mostly. Something like Elder 6 is pretty far outside his usual line," he explained.
"He's branched out," Francine said, slipping into the empty seat at the table. "I've just been on the phone with my contact at Interpol. Morillo was stopped at the airport in Istanbul last night. He had a clever briefcase with a hidden compartment. Inside it he had technical specs for the Elder 6 slave device prototype."
"That was on the first submarine?" Emma asked.
"Right. Thanks to you four, his men didn't have access to the Elder 6 master device long enough to do anything with it." She glanced around the table, her expression of congratulations looking quite genuine. "And, by the way, Barr's going to be okay. I was just at the hospital."
"Yes, Francine, about Barr," Lee said, grinning slyly.
"He's an old friend," Francine said, unflustered.
"Looked like he was a good one," Amanda said lightly. Lee glanced at her and nodded, as much encouragement as agreement.
"Well, it has been a while --," Francine actually did start to look embarrassed. Emma took pity on her.
"So was Morillo on the island that night?" she asked.
"We're not sure," Francine answered, smiling gratefully for the lifeline Emma had tossed her.
"These islands are a big sieve when it comes to immigration. Look at you four -- you crossed over into the BVI without bothering to tell anyone."
Steed cleared his throat and looked slightly embarrassed. "It did occur to me that we should," he admitted sheepishly.
Billy waved a hand at him, dismissing the matter. "What Francine means is that Morillo could have gone ashore on St. John without visiting Cruz Bay's immigration office, and left the same way. We may never know, unless one of the neighbors recognizes a photo. We've got a team checking that out now."
"And what about this congressman?" Emma asked. "Did he arrange for Mason and Rogers to be assigned to the Narwhal?"
"We're still working on that," Billy said, "As you might imagine, it's a delicate situation."
"But, as far as we're concerned, the leak is plugged," Steed said, leaning back in his seat as a waiter placed a plate of seabass in front of him. He smiled happily at the steaming meal. "What time was that flight you booked us on?"
"I'll be home in the morning, Sally," Emma said, turning to look across the gate waiting area at Steed. He was seated in the nearest row of chairs reading a newspaper. Somehow they had managed to supply him with a perfectly tailored grey suit with matching umbrella and bowler. She wondered if they'd sent them over with his papers, which had, she'd noticed, included a new "red card" -- his highest-level security pass.
"Yes ma'am. You've had a lot of calls from financial reporters. I've told them you've gone away to plan your strategy. You are planning, aren't you ma'am?"
"Oh, I'm scheming all right, Sally," Emma laughed. "I'll have to decide to whom I shall grant interviews," she added. "I'll see you tomorrow. Let Anna and Evie know, will you?"
"Yes of course, ma'am. See you in the morning."
Emma hung up the pay phone and paced slowly over to Steed, taking the seat beside him. She'd been provided with navy linen trousers and blouse and a white jacket. She quite liked the outfit, although it would be completely inappropriate for England in late January. She took the package of chocolate candies that she'd bought out of her pocket, took one, and offered them to Steed. He lowered his paper and took the packet.
"Dear, efficient Sally have everything under control?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"Take a look at this," he said, folding the paper to a section at the bottom of one page. She scanned the rows of small type listing stock market closing prices, realizing immediately what he must be referring to but taking a moment to find it. "You're stock has gone up," he said, "and not just with me."
"Very funny, Steed," she said. But he was right. Knight Industries was up twelve percent.
"You know, Mrs. Peel, you can count on me to vote my Knight shares for you. But in light of -- your concerns -- I would like to give them to you, or at least sell them to you, to eliminate my involvement with the firm."
Emma was shocked. "No, Steed, I don't want your shares," she said without hesitation. "I believed that I needed to regain Knight on my own, to be free of Peter. But I was wrong not to tell you my plans. Not to trust you, of all people."
He studied her for a moment, his eyes full of compassion, "I bought those shares shortly after I met you," he said, "I tried to sell them, once. But my broker wouldn't let me. Told me not to take out my anger on my portfolio."
"Oh Steed," she sighed, slipping her hand into his beneath his newspaper -- the most overt display of affection either of them was comfortable with in such a public place.
"I will always regret my lapse in trust. It won't happen again. However, there is something I need from you," she said. "You read private correspondence on my desk, and jumped to conclusions about it. Please promise me never to go through my desk again."
His face brightened to a devious smile, "Mrs. Peel, you know that's nearly impossible, for me."
"Yes. But you've managed to make a harder promise for me. You can manage this one, too."
He nodded, still smiling. "I can. I promise." But it may not be me doing the snooping, he thought, remembering that the ministry had a man inside Knight already. I should tell her. But I can't. I'm not supposed to know. She's just promised to trust me, and I'm not being honest with her. But I can't. She'll understand that, when she does find out.
"You know, I owe you a New Years Eve party, my dear," he said to quiet his other thoughts.
"No Steed, you owe me an engagement party," she said, taking back her packet of candies.
"You tell me when it can be official and I'll arrange the party," he replied.
fin