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 becomes a man hunter
Emma stays afloat
Chapter 10
There was no squealing of locomotive breaks. The whistle continued its scolding wail as the train roared on and on. Steed habitually counted ninety-three cars including tankers and boxcars and flatbeds stacked with containers. Long minutes passed, Steed patting his horse's withers as the animal snorted and pawed the hard dirt road. It had nearly caught its breath when the caboose rolled by like a curtain opening.
Two rider-less horses stood on the dirt road a hundred yards beyond the railroad tracks. A haze of dust on the road marked the passage of a vehicle in the distance. Steed could imagine what it looked like.
Boiling with frustration, he walked his horse across the tracks and collected the two abandoned animals, then headed all three back toward the stables.
Sally hadn't realized that one could visit the auction houses and look at the fabulous things about to go on sale. But Bond had called her on Friday to ask about the items from the Knight collection listed in the Sotheby's catalog, and when she'd explained he'd asked her to meet him on Sunday to look at them. She'd agreed, telling Terrance when she saw him Saturday night that she had some work to do Sunday, which he'd accepted without question.
Viewing the other paintings and sculptures being auctioned along with Knight's in the auction house's gallery spaces was amazing. It was like a museum, but completely different. For one thing, the visitors -- many potential buyers -- leaned in close and even touched the art, all under the watchful eyes of the staff.
"When you're going to spend this much money, you're allowed to inspect the goods," James had pointed out. Still it gave Sally a thrill to reach out with an index finger and stroke the leg of a small, rotund figure -- one of the Rodin sculptures from Knight's offices. Never mind that she could have touched it any time while it was displayed outside the board room, doing it here felt like a little crime.
"It's so cool," she said, glancing at James. He smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up in that charming way of his.
"I need your help, Sally," he said, unwittingly echoing Steed. She knew immediately it had something to do with Miss Knight. For an instant she wished one of these men would want to do something desperate on her behalf. Then she thought about the emotional turmoil Miss Knight's relationships with them brought her and reconsidered her wish.
"What can I do?" she asked.
"Tell me which of these pieces Emma misses the most. I can't save them all, but I might be able to save one of them."
"You're going to buy one?" Sally was astonished. The reserves on some of the pieces were as much as half her salary, and some were astronomically higher. Swallowing hard as James shrugged non-committally, she led him over to the Renoir that had been removed from Emma's office. She forced herself to look at the reserve price posted beside it. It was one of the lower ones, just about two-thirds her annual income.
"This belongs over the fireplace in her office. It was the first painting her father had Knight purchase, when she was a girl," she explained, repeating what Emma had told her when she'd complimented the painting during her first week of employment.
Bond stepped close and studied the brush strokes for a few minutes, then stepped back.
"It's been expertly restored within the last decade. The reserve could be much higher."
"Could it?" Sally felt faint at the thought of the amounts of money the people in the auction house at that moment must lay claim to. She knew Miss Knight was wealthy, but seeing so many people who were equally so, or more so, and who seemed to think nothing of it, was overwhelming.
"Yes. They've priced it to sell. Just how bad are things at Knight, Sally?"
Emma was allowing herself fifteen minutes in the steamy sauna after her session with Hemming. He had pushed her hard today and while she was pleased with her own progress in regaining her accustomed strength and flexibility, she was also certain to be sore and tired later.
The steam billowed as the door opened to admit a male figure with a towel wrapped around its waist -- when the ministry began encouraging female agents and staff to use the fitness facilities it had divided the locker room and showers by gender, but none of the other facilities. Emma had picked up a great deal of useful information by sitting discretely in a steamy corner listening to the boys, who tended to check their usually cautious natures at the door. This man was alone, so Emma didn't slip into the shadows. He plopped down on the tiled bench across from her with a sigh and stretched his arms over his head. His knees sprawled wide, testing the security of his white towel. Emma smirked, recognizing the type, and then the man himself. She was happy to see him despite his habitually suggestive behavior.
"How are you, Emma?" he asked, bringing his knees together and sitting up straighter on his bench. "I understand you've been facing some tough times."
He knew it was me all along. What an exhibitionist.
"Yes, James. Money is very tight at Knight just now."
"So you've got Hemming helping you to stay loose," he chuckled at his own cleverness. Emma had to smile. Good thing she was desperately in love with Steed, because she could fall for Bond, and every bit of gossip she'd ever heard indicated that that was a very bad idea.
"I'm amazed at how hard it is to regain what I lost after the shooting," she admitted, certain that he'd been through the same sort of recovery more than once.
"Well, Hemming's the best at that kind of PT. He's worked enough of us through it, I suppose. I hear Steed's off looking for your ex-husband. On your orders?"
Emma felt herself shiver despite the clammy heat. Had she sent him away? Certainly not overtly. "No. Steed does as Steed chooses." She heard herself snap. James leaned forward, elbows on knees, to peer at her through the mist. She sat up straight, her hands in her lap, wearing her own towel as if it were an evening gown.
"I know you feel committed to turning things around at Knight," he said. "but speaking as one of your larger shareholders I want you to know that your happiness is more important to me than the company. What your husband did to Knight is not your fault."
"Thank you James, but I'm not sure my father would agree. After all, I'm the reason Peter had access to Knight in the first place. If I'd concentrated on the company instead of him nine years ago none of this would have happened."
"And you'd be a dull CEO still trying to fill her father's shoes."
Emma stared at him for a moment, then burst into laughter at the irony. "Instead I'm a desperate CEO selling off her father's shoes to keep the doors open," she said.
James leaned back and laughed with her, the mirth not reaching his eyes as he watched her wrap her arms around herself and rock forward and back a few times. He wanted very much to move to her bench and take her in his arms, she so clearly needed to be held. But he wasn't the man to do it, especially as undressed as they were. His intentions could be as pure as the steam around them, but if word got back to Steed he'd lose two friends. He'd have to comfort her in a different way.
"Lisa Manning's agent says she's due back in Los Angeles the day after tomorrow to begin shooting a television pilot," Lee said to Steed as he hung up the telephone. As he spoke the door to Amanda and Lee's office opened and Amanda came in.
"There was a Noel Delancey seated next to Lisa Manning on a flight out of Washington last night," she announced, handing Steed a computer printout with two names circled in pencil.
"He's still with her, and he's getting sloppy," Steed said, the corners of his lips curling in delight as he looked at the passenger list. His head popped up and he skewered first Lee and then Amanda with his cool, grey gaze.
"I need your help in Los Angeles."
"Of course we'll help," Amanda said before Lee could speak. His eyes snapped to her, his expression surprised.
"Thank you, Amanda. You know how important this is to me. And to Emma."
Lee's hesitation evaporated when Steed used Emma's first name. He could not deny assistance to a man on such a quest. The question was, could he explain that to Billy Melrose? Lee wouldn't have been remotely interested in trying before he'd met Amanda King. But since she'd worked her way into his work, and then his life, his priorities had shifted.
The similarities between his life with Amanda and Steed's with Emma were striking: professional bachelor spy recruits civilian woman assistant, falls for her, realizes it's mutual, and turns into half of a devoted couple. But the complications were different. For Lee and Amanda, the obstacle to their being together was their work -- it was against agency policy for married couples to team up in the field. But Lee could no more imagine working without Amanda than she could without him. They also recognized the danger to her family should their relationship be known to the criminals they targeted. So they had worked out an uneasy compromise -- a secret wedding and sporadic married life. But it wasn't working for either of them, and the time to tell Amanda's family and their close agency associates was rapidly approaching. They continued to delay it only because they knew it would mean drastic changes to their professional and personal lives that they were not yet willing to make.
Steed and Emma, it seemed, did not face the same official restriction, or if they did they chose to ignore it. Emma's association with the ministry had been severed for several years and only sporadic in recent months. But from what Lee understood Steed very much wanted her participation in his cases. They had once been a powerful duo, and Lee suspected that their enemies would be particularly interested in stopping a full-blown reunion. He wondered if Steed, or Emma, had contemplated the danger they might be courting by pursuing a public relationship. Still, he wasn't going to be the one to discourage it. His recent drinking binge and his single-mindedness about Peter Peel aside, Steed needed Emma. He functioned better with her in his life. Lee understood that, and he would do what he could to help the other man achieve it.
Emma held her pen poised over the space for her signature on the letter to Harry Hill. She knew she shouldn't delay any longer. Harry did not deserve to be left hanging. He must think she was frivolous or even cruel to have led him on about a job. The sale of the first of Knight's heavy industry holdings had gone through yesterday. Knight would have a small infusion of cash by the end of the week, but less of a reason to employ the man she had come to think of as her brother-in-law. Biting her lower lip, she lowered her pen and scratched her signature on the paper, then initialed the file copy. The two sheets of paper seemed as heavy as lead as she placed them in her out box.
A light knock on the door drew her attention and she gestured for Sally to come in.
"Good afternoon, Miss Knight," Sally said, coming across to sit in one of the guest chairs. "I wondered if we could go over some things -- Mrs. Emerson said you're free for the next hour. I have an appointment this evening, so I was hoping to leave early."
Emma smiled at her, "six o'clock isn't early Sally," she said. Sally smiled back because that was exactly the "early" departure time she'd had in mind. "Go ahead -- I do have a few minutes now," Emma added. I wish you'd come a minute earlier and kept me from signing that letter.
"First off, Steed's heading for Los Angeles with the American agents. He sounds optimistic -- maybe it's because he has their help. He'll probably call you late tonight."
Emma nodded, glad to know that Amanda and Lee were helping him. He'd sounded so lonely in Europe.
Sally went on to review other projects she was working on in succinct terms. She had learned to recognize how people liked to communicate and adapt her reports to them. She knew Emma wanted summaries and would ask for detail where she wanted it. On the other hand, Mrs. Emerson wanted narratives -- she wanted to hear how Sally reached her conclusions or constructed her reports. The latter were more tiring for Sally -- she tended more toward Emma's way of thinking -- but she had to admit that when she forced herself to work Mrs. Emerson's way she found more errors and flaws in her logic.
When she'd finished her review and answered Emma's questions, Emma leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, a sign that she wasn't through, but wanted to change the subject. Sally waited, knowing what was coming.
"How is your friend Terrance?" Emma asked.
"He's fine, Miss Knight. I spoke to him last night."
"You haven't seen him this week?"
"Only Saturday night."
"No progress?" Emma sensed reluctance on Sally's part. It saddened her to realize that her protégé might not want more guidance. Sally shrugged, pursing her lips.
"No, ma'am. To be honest, I'm not sure what I want. He's very sweet, and I do like to, well, you know, kiss him. But at first it was very exciting. Now it's not so --."
"No little tingle when he touches you?" she nodded understandingly.
"Less of one."
"Well, maybe you need to go a little further," What am I saying? Stop it!
"I think I would, ma'am. But he doesn't seem to be interested," Sally sounded frustrated.
Emma frowned. "Well, if he's not, then end it. You can be friends with him, but don't encourage anything physical if there's no spark."
Sally sighed and picked at her fingernails. It was clear she wanted to say more. Emma waited.
"I have to wonder if it's just me, ma'am. Maybe I'm not responding the way he wants. Maybe I'm supposed to be doing something --."
"These things tend to be instinctive, Sally," Emma said, "you kiss him, he kisses back, you kiss a little more -- know what I mean?" Sally looked blank. Emma rolled her eyes at her. "You open your mouth, use your tongue!"
"Oh!" Sally started to color. "I've been afraid to do that. It seems so -- vulgar."
Emma uncrossed her legs and leaned across her desk to stare Sally down. But Sally had learned to endure her boss's glare and didn't flinch. "Sex is not vulgar, Sally. We are all sexual creatures. I know that you will enjoy it very much, when the time comes. Maybe Terrance isn't the right man for you, but give it a little more before you give up on him. I liked seeing that sparkle in your eyes a few weeks ago."
"Lisa Manning?" Amanda slipped into the chair opposite the actress at a table in the diner across from the television studio. Lisa, who had been eating a bowl of watery broth, looked startled, and then puzzled as she thought she recognized Amanda.
"Yes?" she asked tentatively, reaching instinctively for her handbag. Amanda discretely opened her wallet to let Lisa see her identification, which was clearly of government issue, although not terribly informative.
"We spoke in West Virginia a few days ago. At the pool. Do you remember?"
"Yes! That's where I've seen you. What are you doing here?" Lisa brought her hand back up onto the table and picked up her spoon.
Sensing that the other woman wasn't going to bolt from the diner, Amanda relaxed a little and put her wallet away. Billy had allowed them to put a surveillance team outside Lisa's Malibu home. Peter Peel was there. So Steed, Lee, and Amanda had flown to LA. Steed had been torn between simply going in and getting Peel, and enlisting Lisa Manning's cooperation. Lee had convinced him to have Amanda approach Lisa first. He didn't come out and say that Steed had come close and lost Peel twice before, so this time he should get more help. But the message had been clear and Steed had accepted the tacit criticism with grace.
"You have a friend staying at your house," Amanda said. Lisa's frown was enough to confirm her statement. "Is he calling himself Albert Axelrod? Or is it Noel Delancey?"
"What do you mean? His name is Albert."
Amanda took a sheet of paper from her bag and placed it on the table beside Lisa's plate. It was the airline passenger list showing that the man in the seat beside Lisa had been Noel Delancey. "He traveled with you under a different alias," she said.
"That must be an error. Albert was next to me."
"Airlines are very careful about these things, Miss Manning. Is this Albert?" Amanda placed a printout from an immigration computer with Peter Peel's picture next to Noel Delancey's name. Lisa gasped. Amanda added a similar printout, this one in the name of Peter Peel. "This is his real identity."
"Peter Peel. So he's been lying to me about his name? Is he really English?"
"Oh yes. He's very English. And very much a criminal."
"That bastard!" the actress hissed, glaring at the page in front of her. "Men are such creeps!"
"I have to ask you something, Miss Manning. It's important," Amanda said, leaning over the table to get Lisa's full attention. Lisa looked up at her curiously. "Why did you leave the resort in West Virginia with him? Why did you let them check you out of your room and use the horses to meet the car?"
"Because of the paparazzi -- that photographer. I've had more than enough of that sort of publicity recently. Albert -- Peter -- said he'd arrange for us to get out of there."
Amanda nodded, "Well, Peter also arranged for the photographer to convince you to follow his plan."
"What?" Amanda nodded, letting Lisa's anger grow on its own. "That rat. I'm going to throw him out on his ear. ‘I need a place to stay for a few days, darling,'" she imitated his accent, "‘Just a few days until my new place is ready, darling.' He doesn't have an apartment in LA, does he?"
Amanda shook her head. "He's on the run. He stole millions of Pounds from his ex-wife's company in England. That's what he's living on -- that and nice people like you. Will you help us arrest him?"
Lisa snorted, "So you can take him back to face his ex-wife?"
"And the English court, although I know his ex-wife, and the court will be the easier encounter."
"Good. I hope she rips his head off. Yes, I'll help. I've had it with losers using me."
"Ready to buy some art?" James asked as Sally came down the steps outside the Knight building. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored pinstripe three-piece suit. Sally felt shabby in her Harrods' winter sale woolen suit, which was really too warm for the season. James offered her his arm and guided her toward a silver Austin Martin that he'd parked in the no-parking zone in front of the building. Sally habitually glanced around for the bobby who usually patrolled the neighborhood and took special delight in writing up citations for illegally parked cars. Fortunately he wasn't around.
James found legal parking near the auction house on New Bond Street and once again took Sally's arm to escort her inside.
"Thank you for bringing me, Mr. Bond," she said as the doorman closed the door behind them.
"Well, I may need your advice if the bidding on the painting goes too high. And please call me James, you don't work for me."
Sally allowed herself a giddy, inward smile. "All right, James," she said. She allowed herself a moment of guilt for enjoying James's company more than Terrances's. Then she decided she could return to reality -- Terrance was part of her world and James was part of her boss's that she looked in on now and then -- later. James, she knew, was a very dangerous man in many ways. Miss Knight had made it clear that he was particularly dangerous to young women. But knowing it didn't eliminate the little flutter of excitement that stirred in her breast as he guided her with a hand on her lower back to a seat in the auditorium.
"Lovely weather here. I can see why you've stayed, Sir Peter," Steed placed himself between Peter Peel and the setting sun, forcing the other man to squint up at him from the lounge chair he was lying on.
The calming sound of the surf punctuated by seabird cries rose up to the wooden deck from behind Steed. Behind Peter, the sun reflected off the sliding glass doors leading into the house. Although he couldn't see them, Steed knew that Amanda and Lisa Manning were inside watching. Lee was on the steps leading down to the beach, staying out of sight just below deck level.
Steed stood at ease, hands by his sides, his umbrella and bowler left behind in the rental car. Not that it mattered: he hadn't brought any of his lethal accessories to the States with him. If he felt out of place in an immaculate handmade three-piece suit on a pool deck in Malibu he did not show it.
If Peel was surprised to see Steed he did not show it. He picked up the bottle of watery American beer from the deck beside the lounge and took a swig. He wore dark glasses, but Steed had the sense that their eyes were locked on one another.
"What can I do for you Steed?" he asked, his mouth splitting into a grin, "A loan? Some pick-proof handcuffs?" he burst out laughing, a disturbingly hysterical sound. As he spoke the swimming pool pump switched on automatically, a low mechanical hum just below the susurrus of the surf.
"The displeasure of your company. In England. And that little notebook of yours with all of the information about the accounts where you've stashed Knight Industries' money," Steed took a step closer in order to loom over Peel. "Oh, never mind -- we already have that." He glanced up at the glass doors. Miss Manning had found the notebook among Peel's things earlier in the afternoon and given it to Amanda. Lee already had people arranging for the money to be wired to the Knight Industries general account. It was unorthodox and probably not strictly legal, but it could be done, and once the money was moved it would be nearly impossible for anyone to claim it didn't belong to Knight.
"Then you have what you really want, Steed. Or has Emma kicked you out of her bed too? Or maybe you enjoy being her errand boy?" Peel took another swig of beer and laughed again. "You could join me instead. Screw her, screw ‘em all. Like the one who owns this place. Get what you can and move on. And believe me I know, with Emma the getting is good," he laughed again, "while it lasts."
If the glare of the sun hadn't concealed Steed's neutral expression Peel might have been alarmed. It was far more chillingly frightening than hot anger. "Have you discovered her favorite little move, Steed?" Peel added, holding up his beer bottle suggestively.
Without warning it was hurled from his hand by a backhanded blow. It shattered against a poured concrete planter, brown glass shards scattering amid bright pink bougainvillea petals on the weathered wooden deck. Peel turned his head to look at it, his senses slightly dulled from having consumed three such bottles that afternoon, his smile fading as the violence of Steed's blow finally made him realize how much danger he was in.
Steed reached down and grabbed the collar of Peel's Hawaiian print shirt. The thin fabric stretched taut around Peel's shoulders as Steed heaved him up and dragged him four steps over to the swimming pool. Peel grasped Steed's wrists, yelling wordlessly, his head turning from side to side dislodging his dark glasses. He kicked with his feet and tried to get them under himself for some leverage, but Steed dragged him too quickly. By the time Steed had lowered Peel to the deck, his head and shoulders out over the clear blue water, Lee had pounded up the steps and the sliding door had opened.
Down on one knee, Steed pressed Peel's head back into the water. He seemed almost detached from his own actions as the other man gasped for air just as his mouth was submerged. Peel's arms stretched up to pound weakly on Steed's shoulders. But Steed just held him, his blank grey stare meeting Peel's blue eyes through the shimmering water.
"Steed!" Lee grabbed the powerful Brit by the shoulders and hauled him up off of Peter Peel. As if regaining consciousness himself Steed shrugged off Lee's grip and stood up. Peel hadn't moved -- he still lay half submerged in the pool. Frowning at his friend, Lee bent down and pulled Peel's shoulders out of the water, rolling him onto his side along the edge of the pool. He pounded the man's back twice and was about to try to reposition him and being chest compressions when Peel coughed.
Lee glanced up at Steed, who was standing with his hands tightly clasped, staring down at Peel with a look of disbelief on his face. As Peel coughed again Lee dragged his hands behind his back and put on handcuffs.
"Are you all right, Steed?" he asked, standing up. Steed raised his gaze from Peel's damp head to meet Lee's concerned look.
"Forgive me," he said softly. "I forgot myself." Then he turned and walked to the edge of the deck, placing his hands on the railing to look out at the sea.
Amanda and Miss Manning came out and helped Lee drag Peel to a sitting position. He was conscious, but dazed.
"I don't want to hand him over to the local authorities," Lee said. "He may seem subdued now, but he'll recover. Amanda, call agent Riley. Tell him we'll wait here until he can get his unit here to take command."
Amanda nodded and turned back to the house. Lee watched as Lisa Manning crouched in front of Peel.
"Screw them and take what you can? Was that it, Albert?" she said. Peel's eyes focused on her as she spoke. "You're a horrible, evil man. I wish he'd held you under a little longer." She rose and strode back into the house.
Lee looked down at Peel. He was more alert now, and even cuffed Lee suspected he could do a lot of damage. He bent down and untied the drawstring that held Peels swim trunks up. Peel's brows shot up as Lee pulled the string out of the waist of the shorts.
"Lie down. On your stomach," Lee ordered, using his foot to nudge Peel into compliance. Then he bent down and used the string to bind Peel's ankles tightly together. Satisfied that the man wouldn't escape this time, Lee walked over to the edge of the deck to stand beside Steed.
"Forgive me," Steed repeated, not looking at Lee. He was deeply embarrassed. It had been many years since he'd allowed himself to be so governed by his emotions as to nearly kill a man. He had worked long and hard to achieve the self-discipline that was a point of honor for him. That it had vanished in an instant in the face of Peter Peel's uncouth words shook Steed's self-confidence. Mother is right. I can't be objective where she's concerned.
"You know," Lee said, also staring out at the silvery sea at the spot where the sun was about to descend below the distant horizon. "He's the only man alive who could say those words and have that effect on you."
Steed half turned to look at Lee, frowning slightly, but anxious to hear more of Lee's redeeming words. Lee glanced at him, then straightened and turned to face him.
"Those words from anyone else would be empty. But he knew exactly what to say to drive you over the edge. Either he's drunk, or he has a death wish. Or he grossly underestimated you."
"Thank you Lee. For that, and for stopping me."
"Don't mention it. I won't," Lee winked and turned to face the house, noting that Peel hadn't moved. "I suppose you'd like to get back to London."
Steed turned as well, studiously avoiding looking at Peel. "The thought had crossed my mind," he said cheerfully, his composure regained. Lee grinned.