En Passant 

An Excalibur/Avengers fanfic by Brian Doyle


No permission has been sought, no offence has been intended.


Part Four - Pawn takes Knight

Time - three hours previously

Elton Benn felt like running for his life, but he somehow couldn't
get his legs to work.

It had seemed such a straightforward job for a man from Auntie, a
long serving employee of the... well, better not to use names
sometimes, just call them "The forces of right" or -- as they
tended to be thought of -- "The forces of right now". 

All he had to do was tail a known member of the former Hellfire
Club and see where he went. An easy week's work, a little bit of
politics, no worries. Practically a holiday, especially when
compared to some of his activities in the past.

It wasn't even as if it was a strenuous case. The guy he was
tailing was in his late fifties and, despite being tall, had a
build that was all but spherical, and seemed to have the social
life of a reclusive oyster. 

Sir Morley Roberts, widowed, no children, some sort of mandarin in
the Home Office, responsible for the efficient distribution of
paperclips to Third World countries or somesuch sinecure. He lived
alone, apart from a couple of servants, who seemed to be treated
more like family members than anything else, except for their not
taking their laundry home to him at weekends. Overall he seemed a
bit of a sad case really, though there were still whispers about
him in some of the shadier bars frequented by the sleazier
powerbrokers.

Publicly though, his routine was like clockwork: Work, club (not
the Hellfire this time, a more "genteel" establishment known
appropriately enough, as the Lazarus Club, famed for its
philanthropic activities), home, work, club, home. Sometimes not
even in that order. 

The most exciting thing he'd done was rent a DVD from a not-at-all
suspect video store. The fact it was a ghastly modern big screen
version of a classic 60's British adventure series that Elton had
many fond memories of was neither here nor there, it did not amount
to a crime, though it probably should have done. Roberts even
returned it on time and was charming, in an old-fashioned, sexist
sort of way, to the clerk.

Things today had been different. From his source (Well, all right,
a junior clerk in Sir Morley's section whom he had been seeing
slightly more than socially) he had discovered that a small package
had been delivered to Sir Peter's office along with the morning
mail. A few minutes later a mobile phone ring had been heard coming
from his office. His Personal Secretary had remarked on it morning
coffee because it was general knowledge that Sir Morley hated the
things with a passion.

So he was not entirely surprised, but was curious, when Sir Peter
had broken that routine to head towards the Lazarus Club straight
after lunch. It wasn't like it was out of his way, being so handy
for Whitehall, but it was odd.

He was just starting to wonder about this particular wild goose
chase, when it happened.

The sensation struck Elton, almost literally, like a physical
force, totally unexpected and totally without precedence in his
experience. He'd lived as a student, with all that entailed, he'd
fished a three-week-dead body out a stagnant pool once, he'd even
been on a stakeout on a maggot farm, and, though neither had been
that much worse than the student flat, well, he didn't like to
dwell on either memory too much. This though, was vastly worse.

The flight or fight reaction kicked in, and he was not at all
surprised to find that he was opting for the 'flight' option, but
his body didn't seem to want to respond anyway, so it was all
rather academic.

Hidden as he was in the opening of an alleyway just down from the
Club's subdued and quiet entrance, he was fairly sure that no one
was able to observe him, but it no good as a defence against....

From the small part of his brain that was still processing vision,
and through eyes that were tearing up, he could see a diminutive
and somewhat unclear figure shuffling towards him -- or rather
towards his quarry, who was also clearly undergoing the same
experience as Benn. 

The figure seemed almost human but it was hard to tell, and
focussing on it only seemed to intensify the sensation. This was
now beyond anything that there were words to describe, worse
than....

Benn was almost relieved when he passed out before he'd been forced
to try and come up with a suitable comparison.

Time - Now

Steed and Wisdom arrived on the scene as the Police were clearing
the space around the body. There were 'Do not cross' signs and
police tape up, which many of the tourists seemed to want to
consider as a personal challenge. A cluster of press photographers
were all but climbing on each others' shoulders to try and get a
better shot.

As always Steed somehow managed to push the higher bands of tape
out of his way with his umbrella, whilst at the same time neatly
leaping over the lower tapes without breaking stride. Wisdom
managed to get tangled up in it all as he leaned to get underneath
it. He was sorely tempted to melt the whole lot with a handful of
hot knives, but decided that would cause more trouble than it was
worth. All the same, he was not in the best mood by the time they
got to the body.

Steed was just putting away his ID as Wisdom caught up with him.
The sergeant supervising matters was already shifting into
'respectful' mode. 

"Oi you! No Press, clear off!" Shouted the Sergeant in a superior
tone.

"I'm not Press, I'm with him," Wisdom replied, jerking his thumb
towards Steed. He could see this Sergeant was someone he could take
an instant dislike to with a clear conscience.

"Really?" This was addressed to Steed, not Wisdom, which just
annoyed Wisdom even more.

"Indeed he is, Sergeant. Don't let the lack of any sartorial sense
fool you. Underneath that grubby appearance lurks... well, an even
grubbier mind, but he is terribly useful sometimes."

"And will Mrs Peel be honouring us with her company?"  asked the
Sergeant hopefully.

"You know Mrs Peel?" Steed seemed more curious than surprised.

"Can't work this beat without meeting some of the more colourful
visitors around here, Mr Steed. I met her when she was
investigating that case of those trained exploding pigeons from in
Trafalgar Square. She mentioned you, but you were elsewhere."

"Well, she may be joining us later -- in the meantime, just treat
Wisdom here as you would Mrs Peel."

The Sergeant looked at Wisdom with an unreadable expression on his
face, emotions shifting too rapidly to identify. "I'd rather not,
sir, but if you insist."

Wisdom winked and blew him a kiss, just to see how the little
pillock would react. He grinned smugly at the outraged reaction,
and moved over to join Steed, who was already at the body.

One of the officers was drawing an outline with a piece of chalk.

Steed indicated the body. "You seem to have missed a bit."

"We're still looking for it."

Wisdom looked down and saw that the very fat and very dead body in
the expensive suit was indeed missing something rather important --
his head. 

"He'd have had a devil of a trouble getting the stains out of
that." Steed said ruefully, gently prodding the jacket with the tip
of his umbrella. "Starling and Co., Imperial Tweed. Lovely
material, but blood sticks to it like a magnet." He turned to
Wisdom. "I had a coat made of the stuff once -- beautiful thing,
but a couple of missions and I had to turn it into yet another of
my ever expanding collection of tasteful dusters."

"Cause of death seems pretty obvious," said the sergeant, who'd
come over to join them, trying to show his interest in the matter.

"Ah, but that's where you could be wrong," said Steed. "It could
have been done to him post-mortem."

Wisdom was examining something just to one side of the body. "It
might have been what killed him, but it's not all that happened to
him."

"What have you found, Wisdom?"

Wisdom indicated something with his shoe. "Looks like he puked his
guts out before whatever happened to him, happened to him."

"That's a fairly common fear reaction."

"True, but not normally this severe, even allowing for the size of
the gut, and that's pretty damn huge in this case. He had time to
really remind himself what he had for breakfast for the past week."

Steed interrupted swiftly. "If this is going to be disgusting, I'd
rather we ended it now. I don't mind factual information, but I
think we can live without the blow by blow account."

"Blow by blowing chunks account, more like," muttered Wisdom, just
loud enough for Steed to hear, but he shut up anyway.

They examined the body again and the grounds around him. 

"No obvious wounds, other than the REALLy obvious one."

"No signs of a struggle."

"A struggle? From that tub of lard? What was he bloody going to do?
Roll over them?"

"Don't speak ill of the dead, Wisdom."

"Best time to speak ill of 'em in my experience. Less likely to
complain at any rate."

"Well, if you don't have anything useful to add to the world of off
the cuff pathology, how about trying spontaneous forensics -- check
the place out with that wonderfully warped mind of yours, see if
you can find anything the boys in blue might have overlooked." 

Wisdom did as he was asked -- mostly, he reassured himself, because
it was what he happened to want to be doing anyway.

However, the police had already combed the area with their
impressively large feet, so there wasn't much in the way of
physical evidence to work with. Okay, he was brought here to use
his mind, time to do just that.

Auntie hadn't mentioned how he'd known about this case so soon, or
why he thought it was linked to the Hellfire Club, so that must
mean...

A chain of thought started to form in Wisdom's mind. If this man
was a possible Hellfire Club member and Auntie knew about it, they
wouldn't have just let him wander the streets, they'd have had him
tailed. But there was no sign of the tail, which meant that the
tail had either scarpered, which was unlikely as they'd have the
wrath of Auntie to deal with if they did or, more likely as Auntie
hadn't mentioned anyone from his team reporting the crime, he or
she was still around.

"If I were a spy with a devious mind, where would I hide? Oh wait
-- I am a spy, and I'm a lot more than just devious..." He looked
around... no residential windows worth hanging around behind; that
left alleyways, construction sites and -- as he recalled from one
memorable case -- sewers.

Starting with the most obvious, he went for the alleyways. Those
beyond the police lines, as it was unlikely that even the police
would have missed a full-grown human being, "Not that I'm putting
it past them, mind..." he muttered to himself.

It was in the third one he checked that he found the huddled body,
quaking in a small heap behind a couple of dustbins. A moment too
late for the sake of his shoes, he found that this man had been
violently sick too.

He crouched down to check for vital signs. He paid no attention to
the sorry state of the man's clothes. Squalor he could live with,
allowing a potential eyewitness to die he couldn't.

"At least this one has his head still attached."

Wisdom nearly jumped at the voice behind him. Steed was standing
right behind him. 

"And he appears to be still breathing. Good work, Wisdom."

Wisdom looked at the prone figure more closely.

"Wait a minute, I know him... We met in Warsaw a few years back.
Benn, Elton Benn. Good bloke, if a bit of a wanker."

"Works for Mother now, I'd wager."

"Yeah well, a lot of wankers do."  He realised what he'd just said.
"Present company excepted."

Steed seemed unaffected. "I assumed that was the case. And
regardless where he came from, what did this to him?"

"Well, if you can revive him, maybe we'll know."

"It's not like he's unconscious, he's gone into some sort of shock.
See, his eyes are open, just staring, and he's shaking worse than a
nun in a brothel. He's retreated inside himself."

"Do I look like a bloody neurologist?"

"That was a statement, not a question, Wisdom. I went out with a
neurologist once, she had that look by the end of the evening. Try
and get a reaction from him."

Wisdom tried calling his name, then slapping him gently in the
face, then a little harder; when neither produced a reaction he
looked set to belt him on the chin, but Steed stopped him.

"On second thought, I'll think I'll just pop out and see if the
ambulance crew that was taking the body away has anyone they could
spare. And no acts of violence against him while I'm gone."

"As if I would..."

Steed didn't say a word and disappeared as silently as he had
appeared. Wisdom made a note to get the name of his shoemaker
before all this was over. 

Steed was back less than a minute later with two paramedics in tow.
However, in his absence, Wisdom had clearly been trying alternative
avenues.

"...ou listening, Benn? I'm shagging your girlfriend! And she says
I was better than you. No surprise there then, eh? "

"Okay, Wisdom, you've had your chance -- I think we should let the
professionals take over, before you scare him to actual death with
that mental image."

Wisdom stepped aside and let the paramedics take over. They swiftly
checked the man over, then shrugged at each other.

One of the medics reached into her black bag and took out a small
vial. She snapped it under Benn's nose. The reaction took them all
by surprise -- Benn sat blot upright and began to scream his lungs
out. It took both medics and Wisdom to hold him down. As suddenly
as it had occurred, Benn slumped back down... but he had stopped
shivering.

"What did you use on him?" 

The medic look completely confused. "Regular smelling salts,
ammonium carbonate crystals. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing
that should have done this to him at any rate."

"Luv, my home brew couldn't do that to him, and it's been known to
strip paint off a gasworks!"

The figure on the stretcher was now acting in a more lucid fashion.
Attempting to prop himself up on his elbows.

"Wisdom? Is that you? What are you doing here?"

"I'm with him." Wisdom jerked a thumb towards Steed. "We've been
busy picking up bits and pieces of your target from around the
place." 

"Oh God, is he dead?"

"Since his head isn't actually attached to his body anymore, I
certainly hope so for his sake." Steed's tone was light, but his
expression was grim.

"It was horrible, but I couldn't be sure he was dead. It wasn't
like anything you can imagine..."

"We've all seen dead bodies, Benn... This isn't even my first
decapitation." Steed thought for a moment. "Actually, this isn't my
first decapitation this year. I think that says something about
modern society, but I'm not sure what."

Benn wasn't listening though. He was staring into the middle
distance, looking completely horrified at whatever he was seeing.
"Not that -- I didn't see him die, remember. No, it wasn't the body
that made me lose my bottle. "

His next words were spoken in a hoarse whisper.

"It was the smell, Wisdom -- a smell like nothing you can possibly
imagine."