Dirtier, part 14
Dec. 9th, 2008 10:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfan"We've lost him," Purdey said, when they rendezvoused for the second time at the schoolyard where the trail had petered out. She was blowing hard, and Steed had the uncomfortable certainty that she'd been running for nearly the entire hour, trying to cover more ground. "I told you so."
"You did," Steed conceded. "Come along back to the car and we'll call in for reinforcements."
"That's only going to frighten him worse, you know," Purdey said. "Whatever it is he's frightened of." She was still checking every corner she could, even as she paced alongside Steed. "There weren't any clues in his file?"
"I haven't had a chance to examine it personally," Steed reminded her. "There might be something if you want to head over to the Department while I coordinate the search."
"Put Merton on it, he's good at that sort of thing," Purdey said decisively. "I'm not going anywhere till we find Mike."
They turned the corner and Steed caught her arm. "Look."
Draped on the fenders of the Jag were four kids, ranging in age from about eight to twelve. The smallest one had already spotted them and nudged his neighbor, and the rest were turning their heads like a colony of meerkats studying an oncoming danger.
"Isn't that the boy who told us Gambit went east from the school?" Purdey asked. The children had changed out of their school clothes into play clothes, but it was hard to miss the little towhead who had jumped out of the tree or his older brother in with the others.
"Definitely," Steed said. He patted her shoulder. "Cheer up, Purdey -- I think this may be an envoy."
She snorted, "And here I was thinking that he'd charmed a girl into helping him, and a lot older one at that."
Steed chuckled. "Maybe these are her younger siblings."
As they approached the car the tallest boy -- Holmes, the principal had called him -- shooed the rest off the paintwork and took a few steps forward to meet them, tugging his sweater down to cover his wrists in a futile gesture against its tendency to climb back up his arms again. He came to a kind of awkward attention, caught between excitement, belligerence, and deference to an adult, while the younger kids swarmed nervously behind him.
"Didn't you say that your name is Steed?", he asked, blushing when his voice cracked on the question.
"I did, and it is," Steed replied, assuming an air of polite attention.
"I've got a message from you from Gumby."
"Gumby?" Purdey echoed faintly, her eyebrows climbing. Steed, who was all too well acquainted with the metamorphosis of names to nicknames that happened among small boys, didn't turn a hair and kept listening.
"He says he knows you're right, and here's your watch back, but he's got something he's got to do. And when he's done it he'll call the doctor, but only if you call off your dog first."
"My dog?" Steed accepted the timepiece that the child produced, but he couldn't help frowning.
"The Watcher," the smallest boy said.
"The Watcher?" Purdey and Steed chorused, exchanging worried glances.
"You haven't got anyone watching after him?" the tall boy asked, uncertainly, looking from one to the other.
"I told you so, Sam," the one girl of the quartet -- a skinny child whose knees hung in scabbed glory from the ruins of torn jeans -- crossed her arms and eyed the self-appointed leader with scorn.
"Shurrup, Florrie," Sam tried to squash her, without success.
"If they'd knowed where Gumby was hid, they wouldn't've been asking everyone who's seen him, would they?" Florrie argued with relentless logic.
"He don't know where he's hid, so he couldn'ta told them," the diminutive boy sporting the steel helmet protested.
"He knows where we took him in, and they never even looked that way. And when Annie gets called in to tea, what'll happen? It's not that hard to find the door," Florrie scoffed.
"Wait!" Purdey interrupted what looked to devolve into a general argument. "Who are you talking about?"
"The Watcher," said at least three of them answered at once. The smallest boy added impatiently, "the man what's been following Gumby."
"You mean there really is someone following Gambit? It's not just something he's imagined because of the knock on the head?" Steed asked urgently.
They all nodded, quite serious. "Gumby thought you'd sent him, because you'd promised not to come yourself," Sam added.
"What does he look like?" Purdey asked.
"Little under six foot, not fat, but solid like. Bad skin, short dark hair. Didn't get close enough to see his eyes clearly," Sam said, and then shrugged an apology for the incomplete description.
"I think they're brown," the small towhead put in. "Maybe."
"Did you notice what he's wearing?" Steed wanted to know.
"Grey overcoat that's too small for him. Green trousers. Black shoes."
"They're not shoes, they're army boots," the boy with the helmet corrected importantly. "Like my brother's."
"Army boots?" Purdey didn't like that answer any better than Steed did. "Someone from the 19th?"
"It might be." Steed pulled his identification out of the inner pocket where it lived and showed it to the children. "Look, it's very important that we find Gambit and get him to safety. Preferably without alerting the man who's been following him. If we're right, that man is very dangerous, and I don't want any of you to be in the line of fire for a moment longer than necessary."
The tall boy bit his lip. "But... we promised..."
"No," Florrie said. "You promised, Sam. But we're not the Baker Street Irregulars and you're not Sherlock Holmes." She tugged at Purdey's hand. "I'll take you there."
Sam flushed, and shook his head. "No, Florrie. It was my idea, so if anyone's going to mess things up it ought to be me."
"We'll all go," Steed declared.
"What about those reinforcements?" Purdey asked. "If there's more than one of Miller's men here, we might need them."
She was right. He'd back himself and Purdey against a handful or two, but with nearly fifty men of the 19th Commando still on the run the odds were a bit too long. "I need to know the lay of the land, first," Steed said. "Or I won't know where to send them."
Sam brightened. "Wait! Wait!" he said, digging into his back pocket for a grubby fold of paper. "I've got a map!"
"A map!" Steed exclaimed. He felt a certain predatory glee. They'd not only get Gambit back, but they'd have a chance to gather in at least one of the fugitive commandos as well.
"Yeah." Sam spread it out on the Jaguar's hood. "I drew it myself. For being Sherlock Holmes. But it's got all the streets and buildings on it, see? And all the secret tunnels, too."
"Secret tunnels?" Purdey joined Steed in scanning the scramble of lines. Sam obviously had acquired a set of coloured pencils before he started, and his handwriting was barely decipherable, but fortunately, he'd thought that the secret tunnels deserved being shown in red and he'd provided a little legend in the corner.
"They're not really secret, not really tunnels even. It's just that during the war, people put their air raid shelters down in the cellars and someone thought that it would be easier to get at anyone who was buried if there were doors leading from one cellar to the next. So if you know where the doors are you can get in to this building here," he pointed to a blue blob next to the schoolyard, "and not have to come out again till you're down over here." Nearly three quarters of the way along the road.
"Except you have to come out onto the same road, unless you can go out the back and climb into the next garden over," Florrie put in. "That's why we've still got Gumby waiting in Peter's room until the man goes away. Only he won't now, since you can't make him go."
"And where's the man?" Steed asked.
"Here." Several hands pointed at once. "By the tobacconists. He can see the whole way down the street from there, but mostly he's watching the coal chute where we took Gumby in," Sam added.
"Does he have anyone with him?" Steed asked.
"No. But he's been on the phone... here... twice now." Sam flushed. "I deduced it wrong. I thought he must've been trying to call you."
Purdey moved the hands aside so she could see the row of buildings again. "There's a back way in to Gambit?" she asked. "A way to get to Peter's room without going in the front door?"
"There is if you can climb a tree," Florrie said.
"Steed..." Purdey was practically vibrating, like a greyhound waiting for the rabbit.
"All right, you take an RT from the boot and go see to Gambit while I plan the campaign," he said. "But be careful! If there are any of Miller's men around, they'll have recognized you by now. I don't want to lose you too."
She flashed him a wolfish smile. "Just let them try something, that's all."
"You did," Steed conceded. "Come along back to the car and we'll call in for reinforcements."
"That's only going to frighten him worse, you know," Purdey said. "Whatever it is he's frightened of." She was still checking every corner she could, even as she paced alongside Steed. "There weren't any clues in his file?"
"I haven't had a chance to examine it personally," Steed reminded her. "There might be something if you want to head over to the Department while I coordinate the search."
"Put Merton on it, he's good at that sort of thing," Purdey said decisively. "I'm not going anywhere till we find Mike."
They turned the corner and Steed caught her arm. "Look."
Draped on the fenders of the Jag were four kids, ranging in age from about eight to twelve. The smallest one had already spotted them and nudged his neighbor, and the rest were turning their heads like a colony of meerkats studying an oncoming danger.
"Isn't that the boy who told us Gambit went east from the school?" Purdey asked. The children had changed out of their school clothes into play clothes, but it was hard to miss the little towhead who had jumped out of the tree or his older brother in with the others.
"Definitely," Steed said. He patted her shoulder. "Cheer up, Purdey -- I think this may be an envoy."
She snorted, "And here I was thinking that he'd charmed a girl into helping him, and a lot older one at that."
Steed chuckled. "Maybe these are her younger siblings."
As they approached the car the tallest boy -- Holmes, the principal had called him -- shooed the rest off the paintwork and took a few steps forward to meet them, tugging his sweater down to cover his wrists in a futile gesture against its tendency to climb back up his arms again. He came to a kind of awkward attention, caught between excitement, belligerence, and deference to an adult, while the younger kids swarmed nervously behind him.
"Didn't you say that your name is Steed?", he asked, blushing when his voice cracked on the question.
"I did, and it is," Steed replied, assuming an air of polite attention.
"I've got a message from you from Gumby."
"Gumby?" Purdey echoed faintly, her eyebrows climbing. Steed, who was all too well acquainted with the metamorphosis of names to nicknames that happened among small boys, didn't turn a hair and kept listening.
"He says he knows you're right, and here's your watch back, but he's got something he's got to do. And when he's done it he'll call the doctor, but only if you call off your dog first."
"My dog?" Steed accepted the timepiece that the child produced, but he couldn't help frowning.
"The Watcher," the smallest boy said.
"The Watcher?" Purdey and Steed chorused, exchanging worried glances.
"You haven't got anyone watching after him?" the tall boy asked, uncertainly, looking from one to the other.
"I told you so, Sam," the one girl of the quartet -- a skinny child whose knees hung in scabbed glory from the ruins of torn jeans -- crossed her arms and eyed the self-appointed leader with scorn.
"Shurrup, Florrie," Sam tried to squash her, without success.
"If they'd knowed where Gumby was hid, they wouldn't've been asking everyone who's seen him, would they?" Florrie argued with relentless logic.
"He don't know where he's hid, so he couldn'ta told them," the diminutive boy sporting the steel helmet protested.
"He knows where we took him in, and they never even looked that way. And when Annie gets called in to tea, what'll happen? It's not that hard to find the door," Florrie scoffed.
"Wait!" Purdey interrupted what looked to devolve into a general argument. "Who are you talking about?"
"The Watcher," said at least three of them answered at once. The smallest boy added impatiently, "the man what's been following Gumby."
"You mean there really is someone following Gambit? It's not just something he's imagined because of the knock on the head?" Steed asked urgently.
They all nodded, quite serious. "Gumby thought you'd sent him, because you'd promised not to come yourself," Sam added.
"What does he look like?" Purdey asked.
"Little under six foot, not fat, but solid like. Bad skin, short dark hair. Didn't get close enough to see his eyes clearly," Sam said, and then shrugged an apology for the incomplete description.
"I think they're brown," the small towhead put in. "Maybe."
"Did you notice what he's wearing?" Steed wanted to know.
"Grey overcoat that's too small for him. Green trousers. Black shoes."
"They're not shoes, they're army boots," the boy with the helmet corrected importantly. "Like my brother's."
"Army boots?" Purdey didn't like that answer any better than Steed did. "Someone from the 19th?"
"It might be." Steed pulled his identification out of the inner pocket where it lived and showed it to the children. "Look, it's very important that we find Gambit and get him to safety. Preferably without alerting the man who's been following him. If we're right, that man is very dangerous, and I don't want any of you to be in the line of fire for a moment longer than necessary."
The tall boy bit his lip. "But... we promised..."
"No," Florrie said. "You promised, Sam. But we're not the Baker Street Irregulars and you're not Sherlock Holmes." She tugged at Purdey's hand. "I'll take you there."
Sam flushed, and shook his head. "No, Florrie. It was my idea, so if anyone's going to mess things up it ought to be me."
"We'll all go," Steed declared.
"What about those reinforcements?" Purdey asked. "If there's more than one of Miller's men here, we might need them."
She was right. He'd back himself and Purdey against a handful or two, but with nearly fifty men of the 19th Commando still on the run the odds were a bit too long. "I need to know the lay of the land, first," Steed said. "Or I won't know where to send them."
Sam brightened. "Wait! Wait!" he said, digging into his back pocket for a grubby fold of paper. "I've got a map!"
"A map!" Steed exclaimed. He felt a certain predatory glee. They'd not only get Gambit back, but they'd have a chance to gather in at least one of the fugitive commandos as well.
"Yeah." Sam spread it out on the Jaguar's hood. "I drew it myself. For being Sherlock Holmes. But it's got all the streets and buildings on it, see? And all the secret tunnels, too."
"Secret tunnels?" Purdey joined Steed in scanning the scramble of lines. Sam obviously had acquired a set of coloured pencils before he started, and his handwriting was barely decipherable, but fortunately, he'd thought that the secret tunnels deserved being shown in red and he'd provided a little legend in the corner.
"They're not really secret, not really tunnels even. It's just that during the war, people put their air raid shelters down in the cellars and someone thought that it would be easier to get at anyone who was buried if there were doors leading from one cellar to the next. So if you know where the doors are you can get in to this building here," he pointed to a blue blob next to the schoolyard, "and not have to come out again till you're down over here." Nearly three quarters of the way along the road.
"Except you have to come out onto the same road, unless you can go out the back and climb into the next garden over," Florrie put in. "That's why we've still got Gumby waiting in Peter's room until the man goes away. Only he won't now, since you can't make him go."
"And where's the man?" Steed asked.
"Here." Several hands pointed at once. "By the tobacconists. He can see the whole way down the street from there, but mostly he's watching the coal chute where we took Gumby in," Sam added.
"Does he have anyone with him?" Steed asked.
"No. But he's been on the phone... here... twice now." Sam flushed. "I deduced it wrong. I thought he must've been trying to call you."
Purdey moved the hands aside so she could see the row of buildings again. "There's a back way in to Gambit?" she asked. "A way to get to Peter's room without going in the front door?"
"There is if you can climb a tree," Florrie said.
"Steed..." Purdey was practically vibrating, like a greyhound waiting for the rabbit.
"All right, you take an RT from the boot and go see to Gambit while I plan the campaign," he said. "But be careful! If there are any of Miller's men around, they'll have recognized you by now. I don't want to lose you too."
She flashed him a wolfish smile. "Just let them try something, that's all."
