The Steed Identity

Chapter 2 I. When he woke up, Lola was gone. He felt an inexplicable sense of loss, until he heard noises in the lav and realized she must be in there. He looked up at the ceiling. His heart sank. No miraculous memory recovery. Basil...he said to himself....Basil....he didn�t even know his last name. Very slowly he got out of bed. There was a mirror above a wardrobe on one side of the room. He walked over to it and looked at his reflection...something he hadn�t done last night. He didn�t recognize himself. He was...what, about six foot three? Salt and pepper hair cut short, bushy eyebrows over bright red eyes...and a black crescent under each eye...��Good God,�� he murmured aloud. He forced himself to continue the catalog...a long, straight nose, a toothbrush mustache, full lips, a bit of a beard stubble. Fortyish, he must be. He turned to one side...his shoulders sloped a bit. He flexed his bicep...not too bad. Stomach....just a bit of a paunch there. Was he �the great Basil,� as that Cockney git had put it the other night? Well, perhaps these eyes of his would strike fear into the hearts of men, but that was about it. Lola entered the room, elegant silk bathrobe trailing behind her, like something out of an old Jean Harlow movie. She caught sight of him, and stopped, her face a study. ��Oh,....�� her lips moved, but he couldn�t tell what the next word she said was. She came over to him. She had recovered herself in that second. ��You�re a sight,�� she told him, smiling. ��I look like a raccoon,�� he admitted. ��But I�m a raccoon who can see.�� ��Yes.�� She caressed the side of his cheek with her hand, and he moved closer and kissed her. She broke the kiss first. ��Well, we�d better get dressed and go meet the goons. Oops.�� She put her hand to her mouth and chuckled. ��I shouldn�t talk like that,�� she said, very quietly, moving her finger in a circular motion around the room and then pointing to her ear. What was she indicating - the room might be bugged? ��Ye-es...�� he said. He swallowed. ��Lola...�� ��Something wrong?�� she asked, concerned. ��I....Lola....I...�� he shrugged, and smiled briefly. ��Nothing. I�ll get dressed.�� II. They followed their noses to the dining room. Five men were seated around the table, plates heaped high before them. A half-dozen chafing dishes resided on the sideboard. The men looked up as they entered. The one with the knot in the center of his forehead must be Verret, the great Cockney git. They were tough looking men. He�d better do something to establish himself right away. ��All right, gentlemen,�� he said, ��thanks very much for getting me out, last night. Now, take a good look at the eyes, because I don�t want to hear anything more about them. Right?�� He removed the dark sunglasses that Lola had found for him, leaned forward onto the table and looked directly at Verret. Verret�s eyes dropped to his plate. There were various hasty murmurs of assent. ��Right,�� he said, putting the glasses back on. He turned to look at Lola. ��After you, my dear.�� After they sat down with their full plates, the man on the corner cleared his throat. He had an American accent, and he recognized the voice even before the man named himself. ��Right, I guess we�d better introduce ourselves. I�m Munsey. This is Howard. Uh...him in the middle is Verret. Then there�s Finley. And that�s Wilde.�� He nodded at them. ��Gentlemen.�� ��Galaxy should be here in a few minutes,�� Munsey said. Galaxy? And just who was Galaxy? Was he supposed to know Galaxy? ��That will give us time to finish our breakfast then, won�t it, Lola?�� he said calmly. She nodded, a faint smile on her lips. III. Galaxy was a woman. A large woman, with a Margaret Rutherfordish-air, commanding both in size and presence. She led the way into a large, oak-paneled office, and took her place behind a desk which looked immense until she sat there. He and Lola seated themselves in comfortable leather chairs facing her. Galaxy steepled her fingers and looked at them both for some seconds. He looked at Lola out of the corner of his eye, and saw her relaxed, legs crossed gracefully, quite composed. But she wasn�t speaking. Clearly this was Galaxy�s party. He composed his features into a look of mild inquiry. ��Lola,�� Galaxy said at last. ��Basil. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am so glad we were able to assist you in ...exiting your places of incarceration.�� ��And we appreciate it,�� Lola said. Galaxy nodded majestically. She bent her gaze on him. ��Basil. Your glasses, if you please.�� He removed the sunglasses, and she looked at his eyes, her face expressionless. Then she nodded, and he took this as a sign to return the glasses to his eyes. ��An unfortunate incident,�� Galaxy said. ��And while the style of wearing dark glasses indoors has a certain charm, it won�t do for our purposes. Nothing must draw attention to you two. The timetable must be put back....one week, I think. That should give your eyes more than sufficient time to heal.�� He nodded. ��Seven days should be ample, Galaxy.�� ��Good. And perhaps its for the best. I want this assassination to be quick and clean, with no muss and no fuss.�� Had she said.....assassination? ��You�ve both been...on ice...for the last two years. While your skills and knowledge are of course still there, which is why I wanted you for this organization and for this particular...um, job, shall we say , it is inevitable that there is some dulling of the senses. You�ll now have seven days to get back in shape, as it were.�� Again he looked at Lola out of the corner of his eye. Again she appeared calm, composed. Assassination? They were assassins? Him, and his beautiful, passionate Lola? Cold-blooded killers? ��You have facilities here?�� Lola asked. ��Target range? Dojo?�� ��Of course. Everything you need. A weapons room, a weight room. Even a full scale obstacle course out in the grounds. I believe in keeping my agents in the peak of condition. In fact....�� She looked from him to Lola and back. ��There�s no reason for you and Lola to leave the grounds at all in the next seven days. We have a cordon bleu chef, a game room, a library, even our own movie theatre.�� His head was still reeling from the assassination revelation, but he was doing his best to concentrate. Should he assert himself here? Play the part of big, bad Basil? Because it certainly sounded like Galaxy didn�t want them to leave the grounds....at all. What the hell, he thought. ��There may be no reason to leave the grounds,�� he said, attempting an easy tone, ��but what if we wanted to leave the grounds, just for the hell of it? Is that acceptable?�� Galaxy smiled. ��Of course, Basil. You are not prisoners here. I have perfect trust in all of my associates, and you and Lola are now the cream of the crop.�� He nodded, to show he was satisfied. ��Al right then. As you say, there�s no reason for us to leave. Especially when there must be broadcasts out after us.�� He glanced at Lola as he said this, and she nodded. ��That�s a point,�� Lola said. ��We need to change our appearance.�� Galaxy nodded also. ��I have a hairstylist on hand. I suggest dye jobs and new hairstyles. That�s usually enough to change one�s appearance completely. �� ��I was thinking of something else,�� Lola said, casually, giving him a mischievous smile. She seemed to be trying to give him a cue, he thought, but he couldn�t react to it because he didn�t know what she wanted! He merely shrugged and smiled weakly. She looked at him for a couple more seconds, then turned to Galaxy, who said, ��What do you mean?�� ��This is going to sound like science fiction,�� Lola said slowly, ��but believe me, it�s true. There�s a machine. The Kellmar Machine. It is a ...thought transfer device. More than that. It�s a soul transfer device. It�s a machine that would allow us - Basil and me, to be transported into the bodies of anyone else whom we choose.�� His mouth went dry. Science fiction indeed, but since Lola was saying it, it must be true. What kind of a nightmare was he in?�� Galaxy was speaking. He concentrated desperately. ��Your history is not unknown to me, Lola. I have heard of this machine. That was your mission, two years ago, wasn�t it? To take over the bodies of John Steed and Emma Peel. But, you failed. The machine was destroyed.�� ��The machine was not destroyed,�� Lola said calmly. ��Or rather, there were two. One was stashed away as a backup. And I know where it is.�� Galaxy stared at Lola for several seconds. ��If this machine is still operational...there is nothing we could not accomplish.�� Lola smiled triumphantly. ��Precisely. Galaxy, I suggest you let us complete that mission. We take over the bodies of Steed and Mrs. Peel. They go into our bodies, and then, um,�� she glanced at him with a smile on her lips, ��We let Basil and Lola be captured again. Or better yet, killed while attempting to escape.�� He took off the sunglasses and rubbed his eyes, then put them back on. Good God. Lola...talking so casually about murder. And he...obviously he was as unprincipled as she was. This was more than a nightmare. This was the Twilight Zone. Why was it that he could remember the names and plots of television shows but he couldn�t even remember his own name? ��Yes, Basil?�� said Galaxy. She wanted him to speak? Or she was just concerned because he�d rubbed his eyes? He managed what he hoped was an insouciant grin. ��Lola and I think as one in this matter.�� Galaxy nodded. ��Well. You�ve given me something to think about. To have Steed and Emma Peel working for me....oh, yes....anything could be accomplished. Where is this machine, Lola?�� Lola shook her head. �I�d rather not say at this precise moment, Galaxy. Please understand. We are now your..top agents. And we�re very grateful to you. But that machine....the power of that machine is indescribable. While we trust you - we don�t trust your agents. Not with that machine.�� Galaxy stared at her for a long time. ��I take your point, Lola,�� she said at last. ��You want this machine to be...exclusive.�� ��Yes. Once we capture Steed and Mrs. Peel, we take them to that machine. You come along, of course. We make the transference then. Only we three will know where that machine is or that it even exists.�� Galaxy nodded. ��Very well. I shall...institute proceedings. Find out where Steed and Emma are at this exact moment. But, I wonder if they will be so easy to capture.�� ��We caught them two years ago with ease,�� Lola said briskly. ��It�s because we didn�t kill them right away that the mission failed. Give those two the slightest of avenues for victory and they will find a way to win out. We won�t make that mistake again, Galaxy.�� ��I believe you. Very well. As I said, I shall have Steed and Emma located for you. It will be a simple task.�� ��Simple? You�re highly placed then, Galaxy, in the government?�� Lola said casually. Galaxy smirked. ��Not me, Lola. But I have a couple of very good friends who are. Leave everything to me. Now,�� she continued briskly, ��I see it�s almost ten. The boys will be at the firing range. Why don�t you go in and show them what you can do?�� ��Lovely,�� said Lola, rising. ��Will you be joining us?�� ��I�ll stop by later on. See how you�re doing.�� As they walked in the direction of the firing range, following Galaxy�s directions, Lola said very quietly, ��Gun range. Dojo. Obstacle course. They�re going to be testing us.�� ��Untrusting sods,�� he said, a trifle more viciously than he meant to sound. But really. Shooting guns. Beating up people. Running over an obstacle course. And him without a memory or knowledge of any of that. He was up the creek without a paddle, without a canoe, and without a creek. ��Are your eyes still troubling you?�� she asked. If he did badly - and he would, he�d need some kind of excuse. ��They�re bothering me a bit,�� he said, trying to make it sound as if it were a grudging omission. She caressed his arm. ��Not to worry. I�ll put on a show for them.�� The gun range was one long room at the end of the house. At the far wall, hanging from hooks, were targets, which could be brought forward or back on a ceiling rail a specified number of meters. In the front of the room were five alcoves, in which the shooters stood while they took their turns. All five of them were there, wearing ear protectors and carrying...Berettas, he recognized in surprise. He was shocked at the intensity of anger he felt. How could he know the names of those guns, and not remember his own name, where he was born, who his family was, nothing! He glanced out at the targets...shots scattered all around but very few in the heart area of any of the targets. His heart rose just a bit...maybe he wouldn�t look so bad after all. ��Galaxy suggested we come down,�� Lola said cheerfully. ��Basil�s eyes are still bothering him, but I thought I�d like to give it a go. Set up a target for me, Verret.�� While Verret selected a clean target and placed it in position, Lola put on a pair of ear protectors, then took the pistol Munsey held out to her. ��Right,�� she said. She stepped into one of the alcoves, while the men gathered around behind her, anticipatory smirks on their faces. Lola turned her body so that she faced the target from the side, extended her arm, and pulled the trigger seven times. When the echo of the shots died away, there were six very silent men in the firing range. Lola had aimed at the crotch of her target, and where there had once been a crotch there was now one big hole. Lola looked back at them, grinning. Then, with practiced ease, she shook out the expended clip and slipped in a new one. This time she took up a position facing the target, her left hand supporting the butt of the gun, her legs slightly flexed. And then she pulled the trigger seven times. Verret pressed the button which brought the target sliding up to them. He picked it off the hook and looked at it, swallowing hard, and then handed it to Munsey, who handed it to Wilde, who handed it to another man until they�d all had a look at it. The last seven bullets had gone straight through the heart. He gestured at Lola. ��I�m with her,�� he said casually. Only Munsey and Lola laughed. The others were only able to manage weak smiles. Verret�s face was rather white. ��Well,�� he said, �� I�m going to go to my room for a little bit. Have fun.�� He took a long shower, resting his forehead against the cold porcelain while the hot water pelted his back and ran down his legs. Then he toweled himself dry and slipped into the bed where he lay, staring at the ceiling out of his red eyes. Was he really a cold-blooded killer? The mere thought of it filled him with abhorrence. He could kill, certainly. People who didn�t deserve to live. Murderers, rapists, pedophiles, scum like that. He�d put them down without compunction. But...but...he was a murderer, too. Lola was a murderer. So on the one hand, now, with no memory, he thought murderers were scum, but with his memory he had no problem with it? How could that be? And what of Lola, he wondered. If she lost her memory, would she still be a cold-blooded killer? Or would she be...like him.... V. They dined en famille that night - everyone present except Galaxy. What did cold-blooded assassins talk about when they sat down to dine, he wondered. Horses, apparently. And how much money was lost on them. Lola and he sat together, eating quietly. They excused themselves afterwards, and went to their room. ��You were awfully quiet tonight, Basil,�� Lola said. ��Are you feeling all right?�� He kissed her. ��I�m fine. Just very tired. I�m going to go to bed early.�� ��All right. I brought a book from the library.�� ��Oh, what are you reading?�� She displayed the cover. Evil Under The Sun, by Agatha Christie. ��I was in the mood for a little fluff,�� she explained. ��Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers seem to be the fiction writers of choice in this household. Tea cosy mysteries.�� ��I�m surprised. I would have expected Mickey Spillane. James Hadley Chase. Or perhaps Eric Ambler.�� She laughed, that lovely contralto laugh of hers that had been sending shivers up his spine ever since the first time he had heard it. ��Good night, my dear,�� he said quickly, turning over and burying his face in a pillow. VI. The next two days went by very quickly. With the excuse of his eyes, he didn�t have to indulge in any shootings or any fisticuffs. But that was all right because Lola took up the slack. She �bouted� with all of the men, in any martial art they proposed, and beat all of them except Munsey, to whom she lost at judo. She made up for that loss on the fencing piste. And on the firing range she had no equal. As he watched her, his admiration could not help but grow. She must have been training in the martial arts for years. She was so skilled, so fast, confident and powerful. How had she come to acquire all these skills? A sickening thought occurred to him - had she seen her career, as a hired assassin, and decided to train for it from an early age? And yet, she was so poised, so elegant, so feminine, intelligent and sophisticated with him. In the evenings they discussed classical music, the theatre, philosophy, history, exchanging ideas and opinions, their senses of humor matching, everything. Why, why could he remember plays that he must have seen over two years ago, music he�d heard, opinions on politics he�d had, and yet he couldn�t remember his own name? And more than that. If these were his true feelings, for the theatre, for the movies, for the arts, for philosophy, than couldn�t they be his true feelings for killing? And if so, how could he have been a conscienceless killer? Had he done it all for the love of Lola? VII. The next morning, he entered the firing range with Lola to find themselves the sole occupants of the place. Well. Well. If he were going to find out his shooting skills, now was the time to do it. Perhaps he should have Lola shoot the target out for him, and then he could pass it off as his own. He sighed. ��Here you go, �Basil,��� Lola said, placing his ear defenders over his ears and giving his face a caress. ��Give it your best shot.�� He took the gun she handed him. He stood facing the target, flexed his knees a bit, and supported the butt of the gun with one palm while aiming with the other. He breathed and squeezed simultaneously. Had it gone into the bullseye? He squeezed the trigger again, and again, and again. When he�d finished the clip Lola pressed the button and the target came zooming forward. He looked at it. Not quite as good as Lola�s, but better than the five apes in men�s clothing. Two bullet holes through the heart, the rest scattered around it within a couple of inches. ��Basil, baby,�� Lola said, in a seductive murmur, ��For someone who hates guns, you shoot very well.�� ��Yes,�� he said, absently. It had been easy. So easy. Point, pull, and bullets struck the target. If it had been a human being he�d be dead now. So, his memory was gone but he could still shoot. Was it safe to assume he could probably still...kick butt, as the Americans said, as well? Very likely. He was still a first class killing machine. VIII. They were walking arm and arm through the obstacle course. Lola was amusing herself, and him, by pointing out various obstacles and making caustic comments. So, he thought to himself. So. He was a killer. But, he didn�t want to be. And he didn�t want Lola to be. They were in the obstacle course, to be sure, but it was out in the open and there was no way it could be bugged. He turned, faced Lola, grabbed her arms. ��Do you love me?�� he demanded. She stared at him, half stunned, half laughing. ��What kind of question is that?�� He tightened his grip and pulled her closer, roughly. ��Do you love me?�� She stared at him, at the urgent look in his eyes, the naked appeal in his face. ��Yes.�� she said, very quietly. He kissed her, crushing her to him, pressing her warmth to him. Her arms wrapped around his back. Finally they broke apart. Still holding her, he said, hoarsely, ��Let�s get out of this.�� ��What?�� ��Let�s get out of this. We don�t have to do this.�� His heart sank. She looked stunned, unbelieving - unaccepting. ��What are you talking about? What�s wrong? Things are going great! We can�t leave now!�� ��Please, Lola,�� he said. Her eyes widened. Very slowly she said, ��Lola?�� Her face was horror-struck. ��Don�t look at me like that, Lola,�� he said desperately. ��I just want us both out of this, that�s all.�� Now she grabbed his arms, shook him. ��What�s your name?�� she demanded. ��Who are you?�� He stood in front of her, defenseless. ��I don�t know,�� he said quietly. ��Ever since the night when I got slammed into the wall...I can�t remember. I don�t know who I am.�� ��My God,�� she said. ��My God. I should have known. Listen, listen, it�s all right. You�re not....�� at that very second, she was interrupted by a very shrill whistle. She whirled around, and only a few meters away from them, Munsey and Wilde were approaching. ��Damn,�� she said softly. She whirled back to him, taking his hands. ��It�s all right,�� she told him urgently, staring into his eyes. ��It�s not what you think, okay? We�re going to make it through this...hullo Munsey, Wilde. Ready to try the obstacle course?�� ��Galaxy sent us to fetch you,�� Munsey replied. ��She said it was urgent.�� ��Then let�s not keep her waiting.�� Lola took his hand, and they started walking briskly towards the house. All right, he said to himself, all right. The rubicon was passed, and Lola as still at his side. And with her at his side, he could do anything. He glanced down at her, lifted her hand and pressed it to his lips. She winked at him. Go to The Steed Identity Part Three

Please support this site Be the Best You Can Be $13.56 Order Now Portable DVD Player $154.79 Order Now Emma Peel Megaset $154.79 Order Now Best of the Original Avengers $17.96 Order Now

Return Home