This story copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004 Mia McCroskey
The characters from The Avengers and Scarecrow and Mrs. King are the property of those television series' respective owners.
[an error occurred while processing this directive] people have read this story since April 2004
Emma follows her heart
Steed goes for speed
Chapter 5
Steed, Mrs. Peel, and Mrs. King formulated a plan for the day as they finished their coffee. Amanda would drive the Lotus with Emma, who would be taking pictures. The journalist cover would allow them to follow Wentworth, but also to zoom ahead or stop, and check in with Steed's other teams. Steed would drive his car, staying close to Wentworth as well. He did not think Wentworth was aware of his true role here, so he wanted to retain his cover. Amanda had argued that someone should go to the house in case Lee and Smythe needed help. Steed had reminded her that he had a team on the house that would move in should there be any sign from Lee. She'd forced herself to accept his word.
"There goes Sir Roald," Emma said as several cars zoomed past, "And Steed."
They were parked on a side road about four miles outside the village. Amanda accelerated the Lotus and turned onto the road to follow the racers. As a journalist, Mrs. Peel had permission to drive on the racecourse so long as she did not interfere with any of the racers.
"If he's true to form today, he'll stay with the lead pack," Emma said.
"Good, that will make it easy for us -- after all, you should be photographing the leaders, right?"
Lee edged up to first one window and then another around the ground floor of the house. Each one was dark, and Lee was feeling uncomfortably exposed in the gathering light. Smythe had taken a position amid shrubs near one corner of the house. Lee glanced over at him and they exchanged a nod -- still all clear. Lee ducked under the window he'd just checked and slipped along to the next one, pausing beside it. He heard voices inside.
He crouched below the window and slowly poked his head up so he could just see inside.
"Two men loading money into a bag," Lee whispered to Smythe.
"A payoff."
"Right, for an exchange."
"Once it's made, we'll just be loose ends."
"We're loose ends, all right," Lee nodded. "Let's get inside and see if we can find out what they're buying."
"Slow down, Amanda, watch Sir Roald," Emma lowered her camera and nodded ahead at the lead cars. She had been photographing the fifth place car and driver, so they had fallen a little behind the leaders.
Wentworth had dropped behind the first three cars and as the women watched he turned abruptly onto a side road.
Amanda hit the accelerator and the Lotus leapt forward.
Steed downshifted on a long sweeping turn, guiding his old car around it near the center of the road. He was taking it on faith that there was no oncoming traffic as he couldn't see very far ahead. Just in time he saw the long, dark sedan that sat blocking most of the road as he came out of the turn. He slammed on his breaks. The old Bentley squealed and pulled to the right, but it stopped before reaching the other car.
Although he suspected more than just inept driving, Steed pressed on his horn anyway. The other car reversed, turned a little, went forward, then back again. In this way it slowly executed a turn in the narrow lane. Steed lost valuable minutes waiting for the other car -- which was not one of the racers -- to finish its turn and finally roll forward in the same direction that he was going. It stayed in the middle of the narrow, two-lane road much as Steed had been doing. Only it blocked his progress as it moved at a stately pace ahead of him. Steed could see nothing through the vehicle's dark windows, and laying on his horn seemed to have no impact on the other driver's nerves.
The two cars progressed at an achingly slow rate for three miles, until two more racers came up behind Steed and honked their annoyance. Only then did the sedan accelerate. Steed did likewise, although the Bentley was not up to the pace that the other car soon achieved. Steed lead the other two racers for another mile, watching the sedan put more distance between them. Then the sedan turned left off of the racecourse. Steed groaned, glanced in his rear view mirror, and, as he got to the same turn, swung his wheel to follow.
Lee made quick work of the locked kitchen door and shortly he and Smythe were creeping along an elegantly decorated hallway through the center of the house. They dodged into opposite doorways as voices grew louder. A door further on had opened, and two men came out.
One carried a black valise, the other a semiautomatic weapon slung across his chest. They walked side by side along the corridor toward where Lee and Smythe were insufficiently concealed. They were speaking Portuguese too rapidly for Lee to follow. He braced himself to handle the armed man, wondering if Smythe were up to restraining the other. But the two men turned abruptly at a side corridor that the agents had not noticed. Their footsteps and voices faded and finally were silenced as a door closed.
Lee stepped back out into the corridor, gesturing for Smythe to follow, and walked on, dodging quickly past the side hall to reach the room the men had come from.
It was a study, with bookcases on two walls and a large desk in the middle of the room. Amid the usual desk accoutrements was a large manila envelope. Lee strode to the desk and picked it up. Smythe walked in more slowly, leaning on the desk to watch Lee open the envelope and examine the contents.
"Is it?" he asked. Lee glanced up, surprised at the weakness of the other man's voice.
"Yes," he replied, sliding the paper back into the envelope. "Encryption codes. Just a sample. They must be going to buy the rest."
"Let's hope there are no side roads," Amanda said as she spun the wheel and the Lotus neatly handled the corner. Emma had switched to her telephoto lens and used it to search the road ahead.
"There you are," she muttered, bracing the big lens with one hand.
"You see him? Because all I see is road, and the shadows of the trees," Amanda said. "It's all very pretty, of course, but . . ."
"His car is about to come into a patch of sunlight -- there! See?"
"Yes. I think I can get closer without him noticing," Amanda sped up, the Lotus happy to deliver more speed.
Far ahead Wentworth drove up a sunny hill, then disappeared over the top.
"Now would be the time to catch up," Emma said.
"I agree." The little car zoomed toward the hill, ascending it only half a minute behind Wentworth. Amanda slowed as they approached the top. "He could have stopped," she explained as they slowly crested the hill. The road descended the hill on the other side, then turned to the right and back into the trees. From their vantage point they could see that it turned again, to the left, about a quarter mile further on. Emma scooted up and sat on the car door, scanning the road with her big lens.
"He's there," she said suddenly, "he's pulled over just around that second turn. Let's go," she slid back down into the car.
Amanda put the car in gear and let it roll down the hill and around the first turn.
"Keep it quiet," Emma instructed as they approached the second turn. "Here, pull over here," she indicated the shoulder of the road near the second turn. Amanda rolled the car to a stop and shut off the engine. She was reaching for the door handle when Emma reached over and grabbed her wrist. "No car doors," she whispered.
"Oh, right!" Amanda replied, then imitated Emma and hoisted herself up and over the door.
They crept into the trees to the left, Emma fumbling with her camera as she picked her way through the underbrush. Amanda swung wider than Emma. Spotting two cars parked facing one another on the road beyond the turn, she crept further through the trees so that she would come out behind the second car.
When Emma reached a spot close enough to see the two men standing between the cars, she started photographing them. She had changed to her wide-angle lens, which could take in both vehicles and the men as they spoke, and then exchange large valises. Emma continued to creep closer.
Amanda positioned herself behind the second car and quickly moved out of the trees to the car's bumper. She could see Emma in the trees taking photographs. They're going to see you! She thought as Emma took another step toward the men. And she was right. The man nearest Amanda, not Wentworth, noticed Emma and froze, staring at her.
Good girl! Amanda thought, realizing that Emma had provided her cover. She slipped forward and climbed into the still running car through the open driver's door.
"Lady Emma!" Wentworth exclaimed, having noticed his associate's reaction.
"Hello, Sir Roald," Emma said, lowering her camera, "you're off course."
"Yes, well, this is not a good time for an interview."
"Emma," the other man said in a voice full of malice.
"Peter," she replied, equally unpleasantly.
Sir Roald looked stricken. He stared for a moment at the other man, then dodged into his car with his valise.
"Oh no you don't!" Amanda muttered, releasing the parking break on Peter Peel's car and forcing it into gear.
As Sir Roald's car started forward, turning out onto the road as it went, Peter Peel's car charged forward, Amanda at the wheel, matching Wentworth's turn and cutting in front of him. Wentworth slammed on his breaks, the front end of his car smashing into the front of the driver's side of Peel's.
Something solid banged against Amanda's thigh, and she glanced down to see a handgun on the car seat. She snatched it up and jumped out of the car.
Emma closed the gap between herself and her husband in three leaping strides and drove the flat of her right hand into his face. Before he could recover she switched her camera to her right hand and swung her left to chop at the side of his neck. He grabbed at her arm, disrupting her balance, and using his weight to bear her to the ground. She lost her grip on the camera as they fell, flinging it into the dead leaves at the roadside. She watched it land, then turned back in time to see her husband's fist. She rolled to the right, his blow glancing off her left shoulder as she went. She used her momentum to gain her feet as Peter rose to a stand.
"You bitch," he growled, stepping forward and swinging with his left foot. Emma grabbed his leg as it came at her, leaning back to pull him down with her. He fell hard on his tailbone and Emma struggled onto her hands and knees to pin him down. She pinned his right hand beneath her knee, but he wrenched his left arm free and clapped his hand around her throat. She clawed at his grip with her own free hand, trying to pry his fingers away to no avail. She was amazed at his strength.
"You have no idea what you've gotten involved in," he hissed. "you and that buffoon Steed -- don't think I don't know about him! What's the matter darling? Having trouble breathing?"
Emma wheezed through the tiny airway that his grip left to her. She could feel herself beginning to black out.
"Let her go!" Amanda's voice sounded distant and thin. Emma watched her husband's face turn away from hers, then turn back, a bleak expression replacing rage. He released her throat and she pulled away from him. She sucked in a ragged breath, noting that Peter did not move, then turned to look toward Amanda's voice.
The other woman was approaching, gun in one hand aimed at Peter. In the other hand she dangled a shiny pair of handcuffs. She grinned at Emma.
"Okay?" Amanda asked, concern clear in her voice despite her smile and apparent composure.
"I'll recover," Emma replied, her voice rough. "Thank you."
She climbed to her feet and took the handcuffs. "Sit up, Peter," she said, grabbing at Peter's shoulder and hauling him to a sitting position. She stepped behind him and pulled his arms around, cuffing them tightly.
Amanda waited until Peter was secured, then lowered the gun, but remained watchful. Emma cast a puzzled glance at Sir Roald. He was also handcuffed -- to the door handle of his car.
"Hey!"
Lee and Smythe froze in corridor and turned slowly to see who had shouted. The man with the gun stood in the middle of the corridor. Lee raised his hands in surrender, glancing at Smythe. The other agent raised his good hand, the other still being bound across his chest.
"Yeah, get ‘em up. Face that wall," the guard closed the distance between them. Lee and Smythe faced the wall as instructed and heard the familiar jingle of handcuffs. Lee glanced at Smythe again. The other man winked. Both agents threw their elbows backward making contact with the man's gut. He emitted a loud "ooff" and doubled over. Lee followed through with a two-fisted punch that spun the man around and across the hall. Smythe followed up with a solid kick to his rear end.
"That's enough!" another voice yelled, surprising Lee and causing Smythe to lose his balance. Another guard held a semi-automatic weapon trained on them. The first guard took the opportunity to regain his breath, then he grabbed Lee by the shoulder and heaved him across the hall and against the wall.
"Let's try that again," he said, bending to pick up the handcuffs that he'd dropped. Something whizzed by over his head and struck the other guard in the face with a loud twang. The other guard staggered back with a cry of pain. Lee shoved off of the wall with all his strength and bowled into the guard behind him, bringing him to the floor. A punch to the man's lower jaw stilled him.
Only then did Lee look for the source of the flying object.
Steed strode toward them along the corridor, black suit immaculate, umbrella hooked over his arm, and head quite bare.
"Sorry I couldn't be here sooner," he said, stepping over the unconscious guard and nodding at Smythe who had stayed down, cradling his injured arm. Steed continued up the corridor to the other fallen guard and bent to pick up his bowler. He paused to poke at the guard with the tip of his umbrella, nodded satisfactorily, and placed his hat on his head. As he turned back, two more men appeared at the other end of the corridor.
"Picket, call for medics -- Smythe here is injured. Lee?"
"I'll be all right," Lee said.
"Right then, let's get back to the race. Picket and Davis will take care of things here."
"This is fun!" Amanda said as she steered Sir Roald's big Bentley along the village street toward the day's finish. Car fans and villagers along the side of the road waved and cheered. Some pointed at the damaged headlights and front fenders, but most were unaware that anything was amiss. Emma waved and smiled back. In the rear seat, two men looked grim and did not raise their hands.
"I'm sure someone from Steed's team is watching for this car. They'll make contact," Emma said.
"I'll bet that's them," Amanda replied, nodding at two men in suits standing near the finish line. They both looked somewhat startled to see the women in front and Wentworth in back. Amanda crossed the finish line and turned into the rally parking area on the village green.
The two men followed.
Emma swung her door open and got out, turning to look her husband in the eye.
"Well, Peter, here's where we'll part company. I don't suppose you'll be surprised to receive divorce papers from my solicitor."
Peter Peel glared at her in silence.
"Lady Emma," one of Steed's men approached her, "I'm Alan Foster, I work with . . ."
"Steed," Emma finished for him. Retrieving her camera bag from the car seat she pulled out a roll of film. "You'll want this -- it shows these men making an exchange. The items in question are in the boot."
Foster took the film as his associate, hearing Emma, opened the Bentley's boot.
Amanda stood near the driver's side door scanning the parked cars. There were nine on the green, but she did not see Steed's.
"Mr. Foster," she spoke across the car, "Has Mr. Steed finished yet?"
"No ma'am," Foster replied, looking a little puzzled.
"This is Amanda King -- she's an American agent," Emma explained.
"Oh of course," Foster said, his face lightening into a pleasant smile. "We were briefed about you. In fact, we didn't know you'd be back, Lady Emma."
"Ah well, you know how those briefings can have gaps," Emma said casually. "What about Steed?"
"He's had a little detour. The team on the estate reported in a while ago."
"Oh?" Amanda sounded concerned.
"He should be arriving soon. They've recovered Smythe and the American -- Stetson is it?"
Amanda sighed in relief and Emma smiled knowingly.
"See, I told you Steed was good," she said. "Come on, let's see if we can see them finish -- if you don't need us, Foster."
"No, no -- go ahead," Foster opened the back door of the Bentley and reached for Sir Roald.
"There they are!" Mrs. Peel waved at the next car approaching the finish. It would be number 14, hardly a front-runner. Most of the villagers and fans had drifted away. Amanda and Mrs. Peel had found room right by the finish line.
They both waved, and Mrs. Peel raised her reloaded camera to snap away as Steed drove his car across the finish line. Both Lee and Steed noticed them and waved as they went by. The women trotted after the car into the parking area.
"Lee!" Amanda pulled open his door before he could. He smiled and climbed out of the car and into her arms.
"Amanda," he sighed, holding her tightly for a moment, then releasing her before making a scene.
"Are you all right?" Amanda asked, examining his face for signs of injury or pain.
"A bump on the head, a few bruises, nothing unusual," he replied. "And you?"
"Well, Emma and I caught Wentworth and his contact," Amanda glanced toward Mrs. Peel, who seemed engrossed in conversation with Steed. "His contact was Peter Peel -- Emma's husband."
"Hummm. Interesting. How did she take it?"
Amanda smiled, "she seemed happy to arrest him."
"Well Steed," Mrs. Peel leaned against the rear door of the Bentley and watched him get out.
"Hello, Mrs. Peel. Has Sir Roald finished then?"
"Oh yes," she replied with a sly little smile, "Quite finished."