The Last Avengers Story, Chapter 10

Avengers Forever aka Die Hardest

Chapter Ten: Trapped!

Present Day - Tibet-By-The-Sea

I.

As the two minivans filled with oldsters headed towards the Naval Base, Admiral Forrestal (ret) and John Gascoine continued their animated discussion of the Battle of Jutland which they had begun over the breakfast table. While Emma could have contributed comments and opinions to the discussion, being well up on Naval history, she had spent her time at the table making inroads into the marzipan delights, and now on the bus she was surveying the scenery and wondering what, if any mischief, she should come up with in her role as Nurse Pray.

The men in the cab of the van, the driver and a passenger dressed all in black with a snazzy waistcoat, she noted, were having an animated discussion which she could not hear, and occasionally glancing back at their charges. Their was a strange aroma in the air, not unpleasant, but she couldn't place it.

II.

''The Sleep Gas antidote has been released in the back,'' Mr. Strange reported to the driver, Mr. Charon (whom we have not yet met in these pages). ''By the time we get to the Base they'll all be immune to the effects of the gas.''

''Thirty of 'em,'' Mr. Charon said. ''Thirty! It doesn't matter if their all conscious, we'll be a bunch of snails trying to chivvy them about.''

''Don't be foolish. We get them on the ship and we lock them all in a room and forget about them.''

Mr. Charon glanced back. ''We've got a couple of ladies back there. We can't lock them in the same room with the gents. Not for hours on end.''

Mr. Strange raised an eyebrow at this unexpected touch of delicacy from his colleague. ''You can bring that up with Mr. Honeywell once we're on board,'' he said.

III.

Emma Knight glanced affectionately at John Steed. She saw Steed - she could never think of him as Gascoine, why had he chosen such a ridiculous pseudonym? - at least once a month. Either she came to visit him in Tibet-By-The-Sea, or he 'made a break from the stalag' as he called it, and came up to London to visit her. But each time she saw him these days she always felt a pang. He had been five or six inches taller than she throughout his prime, now their eyes met on a level. His eyes were still the same, alight with mischief and intelligence, for all that they were set in rheumy folds. Each time she embraced him he was still wiry and strong, but that superb muscle tone had aged away. Time...Emma thought with an anticipatory shiver...time is not our friend.

What about me, fifteen years from now, when I'm eighty, she thought. Steed will surely be here, all the old gang...I'll have to get myself a toyboy to keep myself young...she chuckled at the thought and Steed glanced at her.

Steed, for this outing, was wearing his bowler of course, and a suit, and even carried his brolly. He used it more as a cane these days than anything else...she wondered if it still had a sword within...probably.

Admiral Forrestal (ret) went up to have a chat with the driver, and Steed came to sit beside her. (All the other seats were filled but no one had wanted to try to sit beside her girth which spread over two-and-a-half seats. Steed wouldn't have minded, even if he'd known his leg would be pressed against hers instead of against the rubbery folds of her fat suit. Indeed he sat down and shoved against her with his hip to make room.

''I can smell the tang in the air already,'' Steed told her. ''We're nearly to the base. Apparently we're going to get a tour of the Triton first - Forrestal's quite anxious to see it.''

''As am I.'' Emma looked at him, and smiled. ''I'm going to confess something to you. I'm rather glad Cathy and the Gambits were delayed. It's going to be nice to have you to myself all day.''

''You'll have me to yourself all night as well,'' Steed said roguishly.

Emma blinked at him. ''What do you mean?''

''Well...Tara's delayed as well, isn't she?''

''What?''

Steed stared at her. ''She called me last evening - left a message on my answer phone, said she'd be delayed!''

''That's odd,'' Emma said. ''She never called or emailed me. That's very odd.''

Steed's stare grew fixed as a horrible thought struck him. ''She called me John,'' he whispered. ''She called me John twice.''

They looked at each other in sudden understanding. None of Steed's associates ever called him John.

''We've got to get off this van,'' Steed said decisively.

But while they'd been talking the van had passed through the entrance gates to the base, with the driver flashing an ID and the guard saluting Admiral Forrestal.

''Wait til we're on board the ship,'' Emma said. ''We'll go off into a quiet corner for a few minutes. I brought your birthday present with me -'' she hefted the brocade bag. ''It's a lap top computer, all primed and ready to go. I'll text message various people through their cellphones and get them started on finding out what's going on, if anything.''

Steed nodded.

They spent the rest of the trip towards the ship in silence, each lost in thought. John Steed's thoughts were not pleasant ones. Tara was in trouble, and Tara had called him. She'd been in trouble since last night! And he'd failed her. She'd called him John, and obviously it had been a plea for help and how could it not have occurred to him that it was a plea for help? If anything happened to her because of his delay...

He felt Emma take his hand and squeeze it. He looked at her with a grateful smile. She knew what he was thinking.

Steed stifled his impatience as the two minivans came to a halt in front of the vast ship called The Triton, and very, very slowly all the oldsters oozed out of the vans and into a queue to board the ship. Navy brass waited patiently at the top. They were going to make a ceremony of the Admiral's retired. If he wasn't 80 years old, Steed thought, if he were only 70, he'd drag the driver out of the van, hop in it, and head back for town. But best to do this Mrs. Peel's way. She'd alert anyone and everyone, and by the time their tour of the ship ended they'd know whether they needed to be heading to London to take wing on a flight to Canada, or to her house. Steed took a deep breath.

The next several minutes, as they all walked up the gangplank, met and shook hands with the brass, and then started heading towards the wardroom of the ship, were a blur. When Mrs. Peel tugged at his arm they faded back to the end of the queue and then through a metal door. Down into the depth of the ship they went.

''All this metal is going to wreak havoc on sending anything from that computer of your, isn't it?'' Steed asked anxiously.

''It's the most powerful computer that could be got by someone with my connections,'' Emma told him. ''Not to worry. Here, this is a good place.''

Steed watched her while she opened up the computer, pressed a button, and watched the screen spring to life. She pulled up some kind of a program, typed a message which stated, quite simply, to check up on Tara Truffaut (Tara King that was) with all speed, and to use extreme caution. She then pulled up an address book, chose several names, and sent the message. Then she powered down and closed the computer.

''There we go, Steed,'' she said. ''Forces in motion.''

Steed nodded. ''I'm not going to be able to enjoy the rest of this tour, my dear. But I suppose we must go through with it. Once the ceremonies for Forrestal are out of the way I'll plead shortness of breath or something and see if we can't get away.''

Emma nodded. She opened the door to the hallway again, and then as suddenly closed it.

''What's wrong?'' Steed hissed.

Emma looked at him. ''There are two men in sailor uniforms, unconscious, lying on the floor of the corridor. They didn't look like they'd been in a fight. They looked as if they had just...fallen over.''

Emma opened the door again very cautiously, looking to left and right. The corridor spanned a long way, and in the distance she saw a couple of other heaps of bodies. Steed's chin brushed her hair as he took a look too. Then they pulled their heads back into the room and stared at each other.

''Something's rotten in the state of Denmark,'' Emma said.

Steed nodded. ''Yes. Here, too.''

They looked at each other. Simultaneously they took deep breaths.

''Well,'' said Steed, ''let's get going, Mrs. Peel. We're needed.''