The Steed Identity

NOTE: THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R FOR SOME BRIEF SEXUAL CONTENT. Chapter 1 The man on his knees in the prison corridor was John Steed, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at him. It had happened quickly and unexpectedly. The guard had maced him, then grabbed his arm and fulcrumed him face first into the concrete wall of the prison corridor. Now he was on his knees, digging his fists into his eyes against the agony, the tears streaming from his eyes mixing with blood from his nose making an unpleasant lump in his mustache, and making his shirt a soggy mess. Oh god he was in pain. Suddenly a strong arm encircled his shoulders, and a body pressed to his, comfortingly. A female body. ‘’Basil,’’ a woman’s voice whispered urgently, close to his ear. ‘’Basil, it’s all right. It’s me, Lola. It’s all right, Basil.’’ So Lola thought it was all right, did she? Nice for her to think so. And he was...Basil? What kind of a name was that for a chap? Unless he was Basil Rathbone? Jesus, he was getting delirious. He dug his fists even harder into his eyes. He wished Lola would knock him unconscious, put him out of this agony. ‘’It’s me, Basil.’’ the woman repeated again, urgently. ‘’It’s me, Lola. We’ve come to get you out, remember? We’re alright. I’ve taken care of that bastard of a guard for you.’’ Her voice was very steely as she said this, and through the red mists of pain he was gratified to hear it. He felt the pressure of her arm around him as she tried to get him to rise. He tried to move, but felt himself falling forward, till she steadied him. ‘’Munsey,’’ she whispered, a bit louder. ‘’Help me with him.’’ Another pair of hands, men’s hands this time, gripped him from the other side, and he found himself on his feet. He couldn’t take his fists away from his eyes, so they each had a grip on one of his biceps, while the woman, Lola, had one arm around his waist as well. ‘’Steady on, Basil,’’ she whispered to him, calmly and comfortingly. ‘’We’re almost out.’’ He did nothing but move his legs, letting them steer him in the right direction and indicating what kind of speed they wanted out of him. His teeth were gritted against the pain, against the agonizing grunting that he wanted to let loose except he knew the need for quiet here. Suddenly they came to a stop, and another voice, a Cockney man’s voice, hissed ‘’Bleedin’ hell. What’s this? He can’t see? Leave him! He’s going to be a liability!’’ ‘’He’s who we came for, you idiot,’’ Lola’s voice snapped. ‘’We’re almost out of here so let’s go, damn you.’’ ‘’Right, right,’’ the Cockney mumbled. Then they were moving again. He could do nothing except follow the lead of his two escorts and keep his teeth gritted together. They seemed to know where they were going without hesitation and thank god for that. Suddenly he felt himself being led through a door and then out into fresh air, with his feet scraping on pavement. He was jerked to a sudden halt, there was the sound of a car door opening, then Lola raised a hand and put it against the back of his head. ‘’We’re at the car, Basil. Bend yourself down and crawl in.’’ Somehow he found himself in the backseat of the car, sliding all the way over to the far end. Lola got in next to him and he was grateful for the warmth of her leg against his, the pressure of her arm over his shoulders, her other hand on his chest. A slight jolt as someone else, that Munsey fellow, got in with them. ‘’It’s all right, Basil,’’ Lola said again, as the engine started and the car started moving forward at a sedate pace. ‘’We’re only twenty minutes from the house. We’ll get you cleaned up and feeling as good as new.’’ Basil. Was that his name, Basil? It didn’t sound familiar at all. But then, neither did Lola or Lola’s voice and yet he must know her. He couldn’t remember his name. He couldn’t remember anything. He’d been...he must have been...in prison, and they were breaking him out. And he had to wait another twenty minutes before they could do something to stop this pain? He couldn’t help it - a moan escaped through gritted teeth. ‘’Munsey,’’ Lola snapped. ‘’Verret. Finley. Does one of you have a flask? Is there some kind of liquour in this car?’’ ‘’What a load of old cobblers,’’ Verret - the Cockney, said. ‘’So this is the great Basil.’’ He felt Lola move beside him. She leaned forward in a violent motion and...he heard a thud and a gasp of pain. Had she actually shoved Verret’s head into the dashboard? That’s certainly what it sounded like! Good for her! ‘’That’s just a taste, Verret,’’ she said coldly, settling back in her seat. ‘’And when Basil regains the use of his eyes he’s not going to be happy with you, so you’d better not say another word.’’ ‘’Uh, here, Lola,’’ came Munsey’s voice - an American voice. ‘’Whisky.’’ ‘’Thank you, Munsey.’’ He heard the sound of the cap being unscrewed, and then, ‘’Here, Basil, I’m bringing it to your lips.’’ He opened his mouth and the golden elixir was pouring down his throat. He swallowed. The fireball hit him in the belly and exploded outward, causing him to shiver uncontrollaby for a few seconds. But it felt great. The pain in his head lessened just a trifle. He’d better say something. Comfort Lola. ‘’I’m all rright,’’ he said thickly. ‘’Just...’’ he wasn’t going to say anything about losing his memory. There was at least one unfriendly person in this car, and it seemed he had a reputation that he’d better be able to live up to. ‘’Just...can’t see.’’ Lola squeezed his shoulders. ‘’That’s just the mace. We’ll get that cleaned up as soon as we get to the house. We’re in the clear now.’’ It was impossible to think, feeling like this. He wasn’t even going to try to think. Thinking was for later. All he was trying to do was survive, to not break down and blubber like a baby. He concentrated only on the warmth of Lola’s knee against his, her arms around him, and the effort of getting air into his lungs between gritted teeth, for air didn’t seem to be going through his nose. The car stopped, car doors opened, he levered himself out and stood, waiting. Again Munsey and Lola took his arms, and helped him into the house. ‘’Let’s take him into the bathroom in my room, Munsey.’’ Lola said. ‘’Then you can leave him to me.’’ She helped him undress and put him into the shower, turning the water to a nice, hot temperature. ‘’Just let it run over your face,’’ she told him calmly. ‘’Don’t try to open your eyes yet. Just let the water wash over your eyes. I’m holding you, don’t worry. Stay here as long as you need to.’’ God it felt good. The needles of water pelted his face, pelted his eyelids, but it was a good pain, and there was warmth, warmth everywhere. Lola’s hands were on his shoulders...he knew she must be getting soaked. ‘’I wish...’’ he tried to say, swallowed bile, ‘’Get in with me.’’ ‘’Why, ‘Basil’,’’ Lola said. There was a tone in her voice when she'd said his name that he couldn’t identify, but then she chuckled softly and said, ‘’Alright. Prop yourself against the wall for a second or two.’’ He couldn’t hear her undressing, but that’s what she must have done because when he felt her body next to his in the shower it was smooth and soft. She embraced him, and he felt her breasts against his chest and he lowered his head. Her lips met his. They kissed, long and deeply. ‘’God I was frightened back there,’’ she whispered, holding him tightly. ‘’You didn’t show it.’’ he murmured. Somehow he knew she’d take that as a compliment. ‘’Well, it’s all right now. We’ll get your eyes cleaned up. By tomorrow you should be able to see fine. You’ll have to teach Verret a lesson, though.’’ ‘’Must I? I heard you take care of him.’’ He heard her chuckle. ‘’Rather good, wasn’t it. Must remain in character, eh?’’ He felt her raise her head, and once more bent his mouth to hers. When they parted again she said, ‘’This isn’t doing your eyes any good, and we’ve got to get those cleaned out. Behave yourself, ‘Basil.’ Again she had pronounced his name in that funny way, as if it were an in-joke that they shared. But he stood quietly, his hands resting on her hips, as she took a washcloth and gently wiped his eyes. Let the water play over his face and then wiped his eyes once more. Again and again she did this...until finally he tried to open his eyes and saw little slits of light and a blur of pink...he could see her. After another half hour, Lola helped him out of the shower. They toweled themselves off, and then Lola led him to the bed. He heard her pull the bedspread and a blanket back, and then she placed her arms on him in order to help him into bed. He wasn’t having any of that. She could see what he wanted. He pressed himself up to her, and she lay back underneath him with an amused chuckle. His eyes were half-open, he could see her, the water-darkened blond hair, the tanned face, the blue eyes with a laughing glint in them, the lips open invitingly. Her breasts were small and round, the nipples alert and waiting for him. He tugged her up a bit further onto the bed and then climbed astride her. ‘’I’ve been waiting for this, ‘’ he said huskily. ‘’All right?’’ ‘’All right,’’ she murmured, reaching for him. After they were finished, he lay back, breathing deeply. ‘’A perfect end to a perfect day,’’ he said. Lola actually laughed out loud. ‘’You’re incorrigble, ‘Basil.’’’ She scooched close to him, and put an arm across his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her shoulders, squeezed briefly, and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Soon she was asleep, but he lay awake, staring with half-closed eyes at the ceiling, and now there was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t recognized Lola. She’d been good...really good...but it hadn’t sparked any kind of memory. And he couldn’t remember his name. And he was some kind of criminal. That didn’t ring a bell, either. But if he was a criminal...then Lola must be one also. He raised his free hand to his face, and made as if to pinch the bridge of his nose. But as he touched it his eyes opened wide with pain, which caused him to wince with yet more pain. God but his nose was tender. It must be broken. He closed his eyes. Of course. Just what he needed. He brought his hand down, and began to beat a thoughtful tattoo on his chest...but it was no good...slowly his fingers stopped moving and he fell asleep. Go to The Steed Identity Part Two

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