This story copyright © 2003, 2004 Mia McCroskey
Characters from The Avengers and other sources are the property of their respective owners.
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Steed treads emotional waters
Emma learns to row
Chapter 2
They dressed and went to dinner at a tiny Italian bistro Emma had heard good things about. After dinner he walked her back to her apartment where she gave him her flight information and summarily dismissed him. Desire sated and travel plans in the works, her interest in finishing her talk was renewed.
"Go home and unpack whatever is in your luggage and repack for Italy. And book yourself onto my flight," she instructed him, one hand on his chest, the other at the back of his neck.
He gave her a goodnight kiss and left. But he did not go home. He drove to the ministry with the intention of using the gymnasium. Upon entering the building he was informed that Mother wished to see him. Not in the least surprised that Mother was in at this late hour, he made his way directly to his superior's office.
"Sit," Mother instructed him when he entered. He sat down in the single chair centered across the desk from Mother.
"Good evening Mother," he tried. Mother's expression was pinched with displeasure.
"You have been in London since this morning. Why have you not been debriefed?"
"I had some personal matters to attend to."
Mother lifted a sheet of paper from his desk and read from it. "You went from the airport to your apartment. Then to Mrs. Peel's apartment. After that you visited two galleries and three shops, your club, and the stable in Hempstead. You left the stable and returned to Mrs. Peel's apartment, this time accompanied by that lady. A while later you and she had dinner at a small restaurant -- a good one, I understand. You took her home and came here. You are aware of the debriefing policy?"
"Debriefing after a successful undercover mission is to occur as soon as possible after the agent returns to his or her home base," Steed recited, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He wasn't surprised that he'd been under surveillance all day. He felt fortunate that whoever had been tailing him -- probably a trainee -- had not come into the stable loft, or peeked into Emma's bedroom window.
"Fortunately, nothing you have done today is out of the ordinary," Mother went on, glaring at him. "You will now go to debriefing. Understood?"
"As you wish, Mother," Steed said, rising and exiting the office.
Mother watched him go, then raised his left hand. A tall woman stepped out of the shadows behind him.
"Find out if they are lovers," he said, looking up at his assistant, Rhonda. She frowned, but did not speak. "This was not a critical incident, but if their partnership is at that level, we need to take it into account in our expectations of their behavior."
Steed provided his version of the events of the case to a ministry debriefer, who asked a number of questions and made extensive notes before dismissing Steed. He would have to repeat the exercise tomorrow with someone else, but for now the procedures were satisfied. Next he went to the gymnasium, which was now completely empty. He spent two hours on the treadmill and using various weights and machines, and finally went home in the early hours of the morning, exhausted and ready for a long, satisfying sleep.
"Ready to go Mrs. Peel?" Steed asked as he came through her apartment door. She nodded toward her packed suitcase, waiting near the door, then reached up to draw the sitting room curtains.
"You were able to get a seat on my flight?" she asked, although she was sure he had or he would have mentioned it.
"Without any difficulty," he replied, reaching into his breast pocket. She crossed the dim room to him and took the tickets that he held out to her with a curious smile. "I did have to have your seat changed, however, in order for us to sit together."
Emma looked at the tickets.
"I hope you don't mind," he added. They now had seats side-by-side in first class. She handed him the tickets, then put a hand on one cheek and held it while she kissed the other.
"We'd better get going," she said into his ear.
She was delighted and he knew it. The symposium's organizers had supplied her with a coach class ticket. He'd been surprised that she hadn't upgraded it herself, but she was like that sometimes -- choosing to economize when she could easily afford greater comfort. After sixteen nights sleeping on a hard, filthy mattress in cheap hotel outside of Oslo he was simply unwilling to put up with cramped coach-class seats.
They climbed into the taxi he had waiting, unaware of the tall blond woman crouching in the bushes outside Emma's curtained windows. Rhonda shot rapid-fire photographs through a big telephoto lens as Steed and Emma got in the taxi and it sped away.
Nothing. She had nothing to show Mother after nearly thirty-six hours of surveillance. Nothing, anyway, that suggested that Steed and Emma were anything more than just good friends.
"The symposium is at the Danielli?" Steed asked as they stepped aboard the hotel launch at the airport dock.
"No, but we are," Emma replied with a wink. Steed grinned, revising his previous opinion that she had been thrifty. She had simply allocated her spending on lodging rather than the flight.
"Here you are Mrs. Peel. Antonio will show you and Mr. Steed to your suite. I hope you will enjoy your stay with us," the clerk handed the porter the key to Emma's suite, showing no sign of distress that it was in the lady's name, and that she was making payment arrangements. Discretion is another benefit of paying luxury rates, Steed thought as they followed the porter to the lifts. While they waited for a car to arrive they were joined by an attractive blond man, most certainly British. Emma could tell from his haircut. Steed thought the suit, perhaps made by his own tailor, was a dead giveaway.
"Antonio, isn't it?" the man asked the porter, his voice so carefully cultivated it flowed like warm honey.
"Si my Lord," Antonio replied with a polite smile.
"Do you suppose, when you've seen to the lady and gentleman, that you could arrange for an extra pillow or two for me?"
"Si, of course my Lord," Antonio nodded.
The title, combined with the slightly soft features and pale hair sparked Emma's memory.
"Lord Gregory Hampton?" she asked. The blond man's features reformed in a warm smile as he looked at Emma.
"Yes," he paused, studying her appreciatively. "Have we met madam?"
"In passing," Emma replied, "About three years ago at a drinks party -- Jeremy Hunt's, I think it was. I'm Mrs. Emma Peel. And this is John Steed."
Steed tipped his hat, always respectful of the nobility. And this noble was also familiar to him, although they had never formally met.
"Mrs. Peel, of course. It's a pleasure to meet you again. And Mr. Steed," Lord Gregory acknowledged the other man with a slight bow. The lift arrived and they all squeezed in along with Steed and Emma's luggage.
"Are you here on business?" Emma asked, noting how the Lord stiffened then seemed to forcefully relax.
"Personal business," he replied, his voice still tense. "I've fled the rigors of Parliament for a few days," he added, sounding more natural. "And you?"
"I'm speaking at a physics symposium. Mr. Steed agreed to come along to help me enjoy the city while I'm here," Emma replied, eyes darting from Lord Gregory to Steed, who smiled affably.
"Yes, she needs someone to drag her away from the scientists and look at the sites," he said.
"I remember now, you have published quite a few articles on quite a few subjects, Mrs. Peel. So it's physics now? Impressive." Steed smiled inwardly. He could not help thinking of Emma's many scientific interests as hobbies, although within the scientific community she was taken very seriously. Still, how could all of that research and writing possibly be as interesting as the work she did with him?
"I have an undergraduate degree in physics from Oxford, my Lord, so it's one of my older interests," she replied, her warm smile making it clear she was not offended.
"Doubly impressive then," he replied. Watching this exchange, Steed thought he should feel a twinge of jealousy, but something about Lord Gregory's manner suggested that his interest in Emma was strictly friendly. "Perhaps we could all have a drink this evening," Lord Gregory went on. "Assuming Mr. Steed is successful at disengaging you from your scientific associates, Mrs. Peel."
"That would be delightful," Emma replied, looking to Steed, who nodded. Just then the slow-moving lift reached their floor and Antonio opened the doors.
"Seven o'clock?" Lord Gregory asked as they stepped out of the car.
Emma glanced at Steed, who replied, "We shall look forward to it, my Lord."
Rhonda placed the daily staffing report on Mother's desk and pointed to the first group of lines she'd circled.
"They've gone to Venice," Mother said, scanning the report. Rhonda nodded. "Mrs. Peel is speaking at a symposium. A two-bedroom suite at the Danielli -- our Mrs. Peel certainly does travel in style. And with prudence. It seems Steed's just gone along for the ride," Mother chuckled to himself and Rhonda frowned disapprovingly.
Seeing her expression Mother coughed politely and moved on to other sections she had circled. "Yes, Parker's in Venice. But he's watch-dogging a VIP," Mother paused to consider. "No. Let's keep this just between us, Rhonda. Get back on them when they return. That's soon enough."
"Lord Gregory Hampton is behind three bills in Parliament that will reform Britain's public housing system," Emma said a while later. They had unpacked and ordered a bottle of champagne, which they were enjoying on their suite's private balcony overlooking the lagoon.
"Yes, I know. He's on our high-priority list -- very public, very popular, and very hated by certain elements."
"The real estate community is not at all fond of him, I should think -- at least those within it who handle cheap, poorly constructed apartment blocks."
"Indeed. I wonder if he slipped our nets, or if there's someone out there keeping an eye on him."
"You have him under surveillance?" Emma asked, a brow arching.
"For his own protection, my dear," Steed replied. "I think I'll just check in," he added, rising to go into their sitting room. Emma lounged in her chair, sipped her champagne, watched the multitude of boats crisscrossing the lagoon, and listened to her lover speaking on the telephone. He came back after a while and refilled both their glasses.
"Well?" she asked, knowing he'd tell her what he'd learned, secret or not.
"He has a shadow," Steed said. "Parker. They'll let him know I'm not here on business."
"But now they know you are here with me," Emma sighed regretfully, envisioning intrigue of some sort intruding on their getaway.
"They'd know anyway. But I'm officially on leave," he replied, reaching over to take her hand. She rolled her head to the side to look at him.
"Yes, well, we know how long that lasts when someone decides you're needed -- including you," she said with a smile. He had to return it, knew she was right. He was as addicted to his work as he was to her, and it was his great good fortune that she found his work as alluring as she found him.
"Let's finish this and go for a stroll before drinks with Lord Gregory," he said, releasing her hand and taking a sip of champagne. "It was terribly foresighted of you to plan to come a day early."
"That's me," she said, sipping her own wine, "foresighted to the last."