The Steed Identity

I.

Steed drove into the first petrol station he saw, skidding to a halt in front of the pumps with a screech of brakes. The attendant began filling the tank while he strode into the shop and bought a newspaper. November 6. November 6. And the last day he remembered was...when...back in August? Yes, August, late August...he�d taken Mrs. Peel to a steeplechase.

Steed threw a sheaf of pound notes at the clerk, ran back to the car and left the attendant gaping as he got back onto the road in a squeal of tires.

Three months of his life, gone. And when he�d been brought back to himself he was in the body of Basil the Butcher. He should stop the car. He should call Major Bee, find out the last time he�d been in contact with the Department. Find out if he and Mrs. Peel had been sent out on an assignment, and what it had been. That would be the wise thing to do. The responsible thing to do. But that was not what he was going to do. He was not going to stop until he got to 123 Gloster Lane, Leicester.

Steed pressed down on the accelerator and the grey Peugot leaped forward and ate up the kilometers voraciously.

Mrs. Peel couldn�t be dead. She couldn�t.

Steed took his hands off the wheel and wiped the dampness off on his slacks. He blinked away the hot wetness in his eyes.

Mrs. Peel couldn�t be dead. She had nine lives, like a cat. She could get herself out of jams as easily as he...and when she couldn�t he was always there to rescue her.

Always.

But this time...he�d lost his memory somehow. She�d been in trouble, and he hadn�t known he�d had to rescue her. Had she been waiting for him...confident that he�d be riding in on his white charger at any moment to save the day?

Steed turned on the radio, twisted the knob til he found a jazz station and turned the volume up as high as it would go. He needed it loud, loud enough to drive these thoughts out of his head. Mrs. Peel couldn�t be dead.

But...if she was dead....

Steed gripped the wheel hard, so hard that the cuts in his right hand opened and started bleeding again. Someone named Galaxy had killed her, not Lola. But it was Lola in Emma�s body now, Lola who was alive. Lola who would go about prostituting her body. Using it to kill innocent people. To steal secrets. To betray her country. Worse than that. It was Lola who would see out of Emma�s eyes, laugh out of Emma�s lips. No. That would not happen. If Emma was dead, Lola was not going to live.

Steed pressed the accelerator hard down.

His anger was at a white hot pitch and he had to keep it there. It was that was keeping him sane right now. Anger and hatred.

Mrs. Peel couldn�t be dead.

He�d stared death in the face many times. So had Emma. They�d always been able to escape. To win out in the end. They�d saved their own lives. They�d saved each other�s lives. They�d always won out in the end.

Steed took his hands off the wheel and wiped them off on his slacks again. He dashed one had against his eyes.

They were a team. They worked together as a team. If one needed help, the other one was right there to give that help. They could always count on each other....

Only he�d let her down this time. He hadn�t been there for her. He hadn�t even known he�d had to be there. She�d have been waiting for him, expecting him to bethere, expecting him to know that she needed him. He always did. Had she stared her killer down? Confidently expecting him to break in at the last moment? Had she felt the bullets enter her heart? Had she had time to think....he didn�t come?

��Nooooo!�� he yelled, venting anger, rage, frustration and guilt, trying to use it to drive out the images of Emma�s face in his head. ��No!�� he said again, more calmly, much more coldly. He clenched his hands on the steering wheel as hard as he could, feeling in it the soft throat of Lola.

Steed took a deep, shuddering breath. Nerves jangling like wires in the wind indeed...

II.

123 Gloster Lane, Leicester.

Steed got out of the car and leaned against it, arms folded across his chest, assessing ways and means calmly. He was himself again. Whether the long drive had allowed the excess alcohol he�d indulged in to leach out of his system, or whether his uncharacteristic primal screams had been therapeutic, he neither knew nor cared. The core of white hot rage burned within him, undiminished.

It was a huge house, this - a central story, with a wing on either side. There were dozens of rooms in each wing. Even though it was a couple of hours before dawn, several of the rooms were still blazing with light. These bridge players...such a wild lot.

Well. Such a house would be teeming with servants. And if the guests in the house were awake, so would the servants be. Steed reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of twenty pound notes. Then he went up to the front door of the house and rang the doorbell.

He leaned against the door jamb, the pound notes protruding between his fingers. The door opened and a tall, portly butler stood there, his eyes on the notes in Steed�s hand. ��May I help you, sir?��

��The lovely Mrs. Emma Peel is playing bridge here this weekend,�� Steed said. ��I�m an old friend, and I would dearly love to pay her a visit. What room is she in?��

The butler licked his lips, his eyes still on the forty pounds. ��More than my job is worth, sir.�� he said hoarsely.

��Oh, I quite understand.�� Steed smiled charmingly. ��But she knows me, I assure you. There are quite a lot of lights on in the house. Is she still chatting it up with her fellow bridge players?��

��I....I believe so, sir.��

��Well then, that solves your problem. Just tell her....Basil is here, and wants to see her.��

��Uh, yes sir.�� The butler twitched the notes out of his hand and turned away. ��I shall return shortly, sir.�� He closed the door.

Steed remained leaning against the door jamb, his head tilted quizzically, his eyes closed. His heart was beating slowly, powerful, like a funeral drum. The butler returned and Steed smiled at him, whimsically.

��Mrs. Peel will see you in her room, sir.�� the butler said, po-faced. ��She�s in the west wing - the only guest staying in that wing, sir. If you will follow me.��

The butler moved at a funeral pace, which suited Steed very well. The blood was roaring in his ears again. His belly was cold, but his heart was colder. He flexed the fingers of his cut hand, he�d need both hands for what he had to do....

The butler led him up to the second floor, and to a corner room at the far end of the wing. He knocked once on the door, lightly. Emma Peel opened the door wide.

It was her. It was Emma. Tall, slender, auburn hair perfectly coiffed. Chocolate brown eyes, patrician nose with its retrousse tip, high cheekbones, mobile mouth. White sweater outlining her perfect breasts. Black slacks outlining her perfect hips. She stared at him, and gave a slight smile. ��Basil. Come in.�� She glanced at the butler. ��Thank you, Jeeves.��

Steed willed his legs to move and entered the room, jerkily. The woman in Emma�s body closed the door. ��What are you doing here?�� she hissed.

Steed grabbed her around the throat and began to squeeze.

Lola seized one of his hands with both of hers, fingers seeking out pressure points. Using this leverage she ripped his hand from her throat, twisting his arm, causing him to arc away from her, and then she released one hand and used it to punch him in the face. He staggered back.

��Basil?�� she gasped, holding up her hands, palms outward, in a calming motion. ��Basil?��

��You don�t seem pleased to see me, my dear.�� Steed said, wiping blood from his lip.

��You�re the one who put your hands around my throat.�� He smiled whimsically. ��One look at you and I couldn�t help myself.��

��What are you doing here?�� she asked again.

��I heard...what happened. To....Lola��

��Oh,�� she said. ��Yes...it was a shock. I didn�t expect Galaxy to take matters into her own hands. I feel terrible.��

��Do you?�� said John Steed.

��Of course I do! That wasn�t supposed to happen!��

��Wasn�t it?��

It was too much. Emma standing before him, lovely as ever. The same mannerisms. The same charm. And yet, not Emma. Lola. Emma was dead. Steed lunged for her again. No going for the throat this time. The arms. Imprison the arms and knock her out by slamming her against the wall - hard enough to break her neck.

Lola timed it perfectly, dropping down to her knees beneath his grasping arms, seizing his ankles and surging to her feet once more. Steed soared over her shoulders. He hit the floor and sprung up like a jack-in-the-box, facing her. He lifted his hands into boxing position and advanced slowly.

��What�s your name?�� Lola demanded. ��Before we go on with this, tell me, what�s your name.��

��Who do you think I am?�� Steed retorted.

��This morning, you didn�t remember who you were.��

Steed registered that, as with a belly blow, but said only ��Well, now I do.��

��Then the question is, who do you think I am?��

They stared at each other. Steed began to feel the first stirrings of hope. Could it be...? Simultaneously, as if a bell ending a round had rung, they dropped their arms. Steed turned, spied a chair and sat down in it. Lola backed up a few paces and sat down in another chair. They looked at each other warily.

��A month ago,�� Lola said, ��John Steed and Emma Peel were assigned the task of tracking down the head of an assassination bureau. They heard that two agents from the Other Side, Basil and Lola, were going to be broken out of jail to work for this bureau. Now, do you remember any of that?��

��No. The last thing I remember is three months ago.��

��Really? And what were you doing three months ago??��

Steed shook his head. ��I�d much rather hear your story. Continue on.��

��Two years ago, Basil and Lola attempted to take over the bodies of Steed and Emma using a machine designed by a Professor Kelmar. They failed, were captured and were sent to top security prisons. One machine was destroyed, a back-up still existed. It was believed, by a certain individual, that the head of this assassination bureau would have no problem in breaking Lola and Basil out of prison. So, this invidivual decided to be proactive. Are you with me so far?��

Steed wiped sweat from his forehead. ��Keep going.�� ��Steed and Emma went to Basil and Lola, and proposed a deal. They would swap psyches, voluntarily this time. So when Basil and Lola were taken out of prison - it was actually Steed and Emma who were liberated.��

Steed swallowed hard. ��So Steed was in Basil�s body, and Emma was in Lola�s body. Then.��

��That�s right. The plan was for them to infiltrate the assassination bureau, and find out everything they could. Most important of all, they were to find out the name of the person in charge of the bureau. Also, they were to instigate things in such a way that they would be swapped back into their original bodies, so that they could continue on with the case as Steed and Emma.��

��Very involved and convoluted and over-complicated plan,�� Steed said. ��Typical of Major Bee.��

��Ye-es...�� said Emma Peel.

��So,�� she continued, ��they broke Lola out first.�� She stared at him for long seconds, then gave a shrug as if to say �no more cat-and-mouse�. Me. Emma Peel, in Lola�s body. Then, a week ago, we went to break out Basil. John Steed, in Basil�s body. Only something went wrong. A guard maced Steed-in-Basil�s body, and threw him against the wall. End result, he lost his memory. He didn�t know who he was. And that�s where things stood this morning.��

John Steed took a deep, shuddering breath. He blinked away a sudden hot wetness in his eyes.

��So you�re Emma Peel.�� he said hoarsely.

��That�s right. The question is, who are you?��

��What do you mean, who am I?�� He stood up, moved toward her. ��Mrs. Peel, I�m me.��

She was out of the chair in a flash, poised in a defensive posture. ��You came here to kill me. Why?��

Steed stopped, backed up, sat back down. ��A few hours ago, I was fighting with two men. Bouting, I suppose we must have been. I must have hit my head again. I knew I was John Steed, but the last thing I remembered happened three months ago. We went to a steeplechase, remember. You won a hundred pounds on Daylight.''

Emma Peel�s eyes narrowed. ��Go on.��

��I played it well. Didn�t let on. Got them to explain to me what was going on. They told me that ...Lola, three men, and a woman called Galaxy had left to kidnap Mrs. Peel. There was nothing I could do at that time. I didn�t know where they were going. There was no way I could find out. All I could do was wait. Then, the three men returned. The American with the Roman haircut told the story. He said that they�d succeeded in kidnapping Mrs. Peel. He said that Lola, Mrs. Peel and Galaxy had gone into a house. He�d seen Lola and Mrs. Peel strapped to a machine. Lola went unconscious, Emma Peel woke up, and Galaxy killed Lola.��

Steed spread his hands. ��What was I supposed to think? I�ll tell you what I thought. I thought that Lola was in your body and that you�d just been killed. That�s what I thought.��

��So you came here to kill Lola?��

Steed nodded.

Emma shook her head. ��We told Major B that this plan was too convoluted.��

��I need a drink,�� Steed said.

Emma picked up a decanter from the sideboard, and poured out two large glasses. She placed one of them on a small end table, and with her foot shoved it close to him.

��Still don�t believe I�m me, Mrs. Peel?�� he said, leaning forward to pick up the drink.

��I�ve never seen Steed with tears in his eyes before,� Emma said quietly.

��You�ve never seen me think you were dead before. Something happened to the stiff upper lip, I can�t deny it. I blame it on just a little too much liquor consumed earlier today.��

This almost moved her, but Emma was nothing now if not cautious.

��I�m not sure. Basil-in-Steed�s-body was under close supervision. But what if he decided he didn�t like the deal anymore? What if he decided to break out? What if he somehow found out the address of the assassiation bureau and paid it a visit. What if there were a third Kellmar machine and Basil knew about it, and what if Basil and Steed went to that machine, and now, you�re not Steed, you�re Basil. And you came here to kill me because you�re broken up over Lola�s death, and believe me responsible?��

��You�ve got a lot of what-if�s there,�� Steed said.

��Impasse,�� said Emma Peel.

��Easily solved,�� said Steed. ��Twitter.��

��Twitter?��

��Twitter.�� Steed said, intently.

It rang a bell. Emma cast her mind back. ��Bird impersonations aren�t my strong suit,�� she said.

Steed snapped his fingers at her. ��There, you see. Basil and Lola might know various incidents from our lives, but they can�t know the exact words we spoke on any occasion. No one but us could know that.��

Emma Peel nodded.

��All right. Let�s see. One of our first cases. I was trapped in the sub-basement by a Cybernaut, and you came running in. What did you say?��

How could he ever forget? ��The pen. Give it me.��

��And I tossed it to you.��

��And what did I tell you?��

��That it was a tracking device. And I told you to get rid of it. And what did you say?��

���Don�t worry, I will�. Why did you say that, by the way? Did you actually think I was going to hang on to it?��

��It wouldn�t have surprised me. That was when I first knew you, remember. You sometimes preferred brute force to guile. But attaching the pen to the other cybernaut�s tunic, that was a stroke of genius.��

��Why, thank you, Mrs. Peel.��

God, it was her, and she was alive. He so wanted to get up...to kiss her...to embrace her...to make love to her. But not in this body.

��Steed,�� she said, ��It�s almost dawn. You�ve got to get back to the house.��

��Why? We�ve got the information we needed, surely. Galaxy is the head of the Assassination Bureau. And who was the traitor who brought you here this evening, so you could be kidnapped?��

��Eric Joddrell,�� Emma said. ��The M.P.��

��Well, then, that�s enough. This is what I think we should do. Let�s go get Basil. Take him to the machine, and swop our psyches. Then we destroy that damn machine so that it can never be used again. And then we tell Basil that Lola was killed by a woman named Galaxy, and let him take it from there.��

Emma stared at him. He�d been through so much - hell, they�d both been through so much. And they did have enough information to break the Assassination Bureau.

��All right, Steed,�� she said. ��Let�s go.��

She turned, and opened the door. Filling it, holding a very big gun, was Galaxy.

Go to The Steed Identity Part Five