A Captain Scarlet story by Marion Woods.

The next few days were theirs – and theirs alone. It was to be their reward for having to work over Christmas and for not having had a chance to get away together since her birthday in April. They’d planned for it over the long weeks of tiring duty rotas, dreamt of it during the long, lonely nights. Anticipation, shining like a beacon through the never-ending days, had sharpened their imaginations, heightened their senses and quickened their desires. Now, in a few short hours, they’d be enjoying the totally self-indulgent romantic holiday they’d booked as a Christmas gift for each other, as well as a celebration of his birthday.

Rhapsody had packed carefully before starting her last shift, selecting the fabrics and colours he liked to see her in, a few choice creams and lotions, and even a couple of personal ‘adult toys’. So, when her duty ended she almost skipped back to her quarters and stripped off her uniform, discarding it on the narrow single bed.

She stepped under the shower and, after washing her hair, sponged herself over with the expensively perfumed lotion he’d given her, singing a popular love song to herself as she did so.

Stepping out, she wrapped a warm towel around her torso and another round her hair and went back into the main room, humming happily. She dried her hair and, once satisfied, she painted her toenails and fingernails in a soft coral-pink, and then applied her make-up with elaborate care.

Glancing at her wall-clock, she frowned slightly and began to dress, slipping on the satin, lace-edged panties and rolling the sheer stockings up her legs, smoothing them out before she carefully fastened the suspenders. The delicate lace-cupped bra and silky camisole completed the set.

She hoped he’d appreciate the fact that she’d forgone personal comfort to cater for his lingerie fantasies.

She looked excitedly at the dress she was going to wear as it hung on the hanger on her closet door. It was new – he’d never seen it before. When she’d spent a few days in London visiting her family, she’d gone on a shopping spree with her mother. They’d found the dress in an exclusive designer boutique, the turquoise-blue silk shot through with a rainbow of shimmering colours, and they’d both agreed it was worth every penny of the small fortune it cost. Encouraged by her mother, she’d tried it on – and there was never a moment after that when she’d have left that building without it. She’d managed to smuggle it back to Cloudbase without his knowing about it, and now it was time to discover if he’d like it as much as she did.

Captain Scarlet was – unusually for him - running late. The de-briefing meeting had overrun when the colonel had been called away for a phone conversation with the World President, and now, try as he might, the urgent report he’d been asked to produce covering the recent mission he and Captain Blue had undertaken just wouldn’t come together in an acceptable fashion.

As the minutes ticked by he grew more irritable, snapping at his colleagues as they tried to involve him in conversation. He was still tapping away at the keyboard when Captain Blue wandered in, fresh out of Sick Bay where Doctor Fawn had kept him in for observation after he’d sustained a nasty crack on the head in the course of the mission, and consequently in a very good mood.

“Are you still here?” he asked his partner quietly in surprise. “You’re going to get lynched if you keep her waiting, today of all days.”

“Think I don’t know that? I’m still trying to get this report to make sense…”

Blue peered over his shoulder. “You’ve spelt assassinate wrong… it’s ‘a-double-s, a-double-s.’”

“Thanks, Adam! You’re one big help.” Irritation fizzed in Scarlet’s voice as he spoke.

“Hey, don’t bite my head off just because you’re rushing things. ‘More haste, less speed’, as my old granddad used to say.”

“How about ‘push off before I punch you’ – did he used to say that too?”

Blue shook his head and ‘tutted’ disapprovingly. “I had no idea you were getting so lecherous. What’s wrong; got a hyper-active libido, or just not been getting enough recently?”

“Adam!” Scarlet spun round angrily. His relationship with Rhapsody was far less well-known than his partner’s with his fiancée -Symphony Angel – and he wanted it kept that way.

Suddenly aware that he’d completely misread his friend’s mood, Blue appeased Scarlet with an apologetic hand gesture.

“Go away!” his partner snarled, turning back to the screen.

Blue sighed, rolled his eyes at the other captains and to make peace with his friend said:

“Look, you go and get ready. I’ll finish this.”

Scarlet looked up from the screen again, hope flaring in his sapphire-blue eyes. “You will?”

Blue nodded. “I guess I really am better at the paperwork…” It was a standing joke between the pair that Scarlet did almost anything to avoid writing reports and filing mission statements.

“Thanks, Adam! You’ve probably saved my life, you know?” Scarlet needed no second prompting to get up from the desk and grab his colour-coded cap.

“Yeah, yeah, sure I did. Oh, and happy birthday for tomorrow, Paul.”

“Thanks, Adam. I’ll be back on Monday. No! No, on Tuesday! I’ll back on Tuesday.”

“If you don’t get a move on, you won’t be going anywhere to be back on Tuesday from,” Blue said, joining in the good-natured laughter as the Englishman sprinted through the automatic doors and ran down the corridor.

“Where’s he going?” Captain Ochre asked, as the room quietened down.

“Didn’t he mention it?”

“No. He’s played things pretty close to his chest. We know he’s going somewhere, we deduced he’s going with someone – and the clever money’s on Rhapsody – but we don’t know where he’s going.”

Blue sniffed, flexed his fingers like a concert pianist and started typing.

“Where is he going?” Ochre asked again.

“I haven’t a clue. Somewhere he found on the Internet. Expensive, exclusive, isolated. That’s all I know,” Blue replied absent-mindedly, as if his attention was already caught up with the report. At least, all I’m going to admit to knowing, he added to himself, suppressing a smile.

“Oh dear,” Captain Grey said with mock alarm, “I sense another lecture from the colonel in the offing: the one about ‘making a full disclosure of our whereabouts when we’re off base’.”

Blue merely grinned and carried on typing.

“Hello there. Sorry I’m late. My word, you look fantastic – absolutely fantastic.” Captain Scarlet gabbled in his eagerness.

“I was beginning to worry.”

“Things just kept going wrong. I ended up in a rush.”

“So I see; your hair’s still damp.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but at least I had time to shower and shave; if Adam hadn’t offered to finish the report, I’d still be there at that frigging machine.”

“You were writing a report?” Her eyebrows rose in exaggerated surprise. “I thought the age of miracles was supposed to be over?”

He chuckled. “Adam was incarcerated in Fawn’s merciless clutches and the colonel was champing at the bit to have something to file, so it fell to me. I suspect by the time we get back, Adam will have completely re-written it and it’ll be safely filed away with all the others.” He grinned as a thought occurred to him. “Of course, he’ll probably say that finishing it for me was my birthday present from him.”

She giggled, Captain Blue had been racking his brain for weeks for a suitable gift for his friend. “Well, as it means you’re here in time to catch the shuttle, I’d say you should just concur gratefully.” She reached out a hand and squeezed his fingers. “They’re loading up now; you’d better give them your suitcase.”

He nodded, but before he moved to do as she suggested, he bent down towards her and whispered, “I don’t care if we are standing in full view of hangar deck 2 and its staff, I’m just going to have to kiss you…”

She turned her head so that their lips met in a butterfly kiss.

“Better now?” she asked, smiling.

“No – infinitely worse… I just hope this journey goes without a hitch, any delay could have serious consequences…”

“Go and hand over your luggage, you soppy romantic…”

Walking over towards the technicians Scarlet reflected that romance had very little to do with how he was feeling.

From London airport they picked up the charter plane they’d hired and flew up to Inverness. The hire car was waiting for them, the route to their destination already programmed into the sat-nav onboard computer. As the short day was already closing in, they set out to drive the remaining miles immediately. Dianne was so excited that she left the driving to Paul, although they’d shared the piloting of the plane.

She watched the countryside slip past, pointing out the crisp mantle of snow that lay on the higher ground beyond the road. “It’s going to be a winter wonderland!” she enthused.

“Fine,” he replied, slightly distracted by a sharp bend in the road. “Just as long as it isn’t a bleak midwinter. These roads are treacherous enough as it is.”

“Well, we don’t even have to leave the comfort of our bedroom, if we don’t want to. There’s heaps of things to do indoors.”

“Yeah, I’ve spent the journey imagining quite a few of them.” He gave her a quick grin and went back to concentrating on the road.

She threw back her head and laughed. “Down, tiger, we’re not there yet. Besides, I’m famished. I want a nice hot meal when we get there – before we do anything else.”

The sat-nav beeped and told them they’d reached their destination. Dianne peered into the gloom as the landscape was revealed by the sweep of the headlights.

“Oh, Paul, it’s just like it was on the Internet. Look, there’s the loch and the woods. It’s going to be like a real fairy-tale castle, I just know it!”

“For this price, I hope so!”

She gave him an exasperated glance. “You have no romance in you at all.”

“A few hours ago you called me – and I quote – ‘a soppy romantic’,” he argued without rancour. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“Ah, I was misled by your charm, Mr Metcalfe; but I realise now that wasn’t romance, that was lust.”

“Nothing wrong with lust.” He grinned at her. “Especially for the woman you love.”

“I’m still going to have something to eat first,” she teased, then gave an excited squeal. “Look! There’s the castle. Oh, Paul – it’s wonderful!”

The elaborate building had several of the round towers with pointed roofs that always looked to Paul like rocket silos. It stood on a broad plateau of the mountainside overlooking a deep, dark loch and protected from the elements by a dense wood of mature trees. Downstairs lights blazed out into the darkness, illuminating the snow-covered gardens with specks of yellow light. Paul drew the car up before the front door and got out.

“I’ll go and make sure we’re expected,” he told Dianne and scrunched over the gravel driveway into the reception.

The main hallway was decorated by an enormous Christmas tree, covered in ribbons and lights, and in an alcove leading to a twisting corridor was a dark wooden bench, laden with brochures and an electric bell. He pressed it and waited.

A few moments later a well-dressed woman emerged from a room across the hall and walked towards him.

“May I help you?” she asked politely as she approached.

“I hope so. I’m sorry we’re a bit late, but we do have a reservation – my wife and I. My name is Blake – Paul Blake, from London?”

“Of course! Welcome to Castle Cathcart, Mr Blake. I’m Lady Morag Cathcart. You’re not late at all; we’ve only just started serving dinner.”

“Oh great; Dianne – my wife – she’s starving.” He smiled at the woman and added, “I’ll go and fetch her and our bags then. Where should I put the car?”

“I can send the boy to fetch the luggage, Mr Blake, and, if you’re happy for him to move the car, he can put it in one of the garages, out of the weather.”

“That’d be just fine, your ladyship.” He handed her the keys. “I’ll be right back.”

Dianne saw him appear in the doorway and got out of the car, shivering slightly in the cold night air.

“All okay?” she called.

“Yes, this is it. Someone will get the bags, so come inside. It’s bitterly cold.” She scampered up the steps to his side and he bent to kiss her. “Remember, our name is Blake and we’re a married couple from London.”

“You don’t have to remind me. Look, I even put a ‘wedding ring’ on.”

“You really were an ace secret agent, weren’t you?”

“The best there was, Mr Blake. Now, lead me to the heat - and the food.”

Lady Cathcart made them both feel welcome as they registered, and a lanky young man – possibly her son – carried their luggage in. They were shown to a winding stair in one of the towers and led up to the top – there was no lift.

“This is the honeymoon suite,” the youth said, adding, “Well, one of them.” He put the suitcases down by the wardrobes, and while he went through where things were and the routine of the hotel, Dianne did some exploring.

They’d booked into what the web brochure had called ‘a romantic suite’ and it was certainly luxurious, with a large four-poster bed, comfortable-looking armchairs and a table, a TV and entertainment centre and soft lighting. She peered into one of the smaller rooms – a bathroom – and then the second, larger room.

“Hey, guess what?” she called gaily. “They have a bathroom in here with a proper, double-sized sunken bath!”

She turned to wink at him, and saw that the bell-hop was still there, grinning at Paul who had gone slightly pink. She went back and threaded her arm through his, adding, as much for the stranger’s benefit as his, “This will make up for us not having had a proper honeymoon. It’ll be such fun!”

“We’ll be serving dinner for the next half-hour or so. Just come down to the dining room – on the right of the main hall, if you’d like to eat.” The young man accepted Paul’s proffered tip with a knowing smile which broadened into a grin as Dianne exclaimed:

“Give us five minutes and we’ll be there.”

He left them, and laughing she went to bounce on the bed.

“This place is amazing. I can’t believe it! I’m so glad we decided to come here.” She reached for Paul and he came and took her in his arms, pressing his lips to hers.

“Hmmm… feed me and then I’m all yours…” she promised.

They walked into the dining room and Lady Cathcart led them over to a table set back from the other guests in a quiet corner. The lights were dimmed and the table lit by elegant golden candles. She handed them both leather-bound, handwritten menus and said, “I do hope you will accept this bottle of champagne, courtesy of the hotel?”

She beckoned forward a smartly-dressed waiter who showed Paul the label of the relatively good quality champagne. He smiled and nodded.

Dianne gave an excited gasp as the cork popped and accepted a flute of the fizzy wine, saying, “This is so kind of you, Lady Cathcart.”

As the staff withdrew they pledged each other across the table and with a delighted smile Dianne turned her attention to the menu. Paul was less hungry and less relaxed; his experience of security work had left him with an innate wariness of unfamiliar places. He glanced around the room. There were very few people dining with them, although he suspected in a week or so, over the Christmas and New Year period, the place would be packed out, despite the high cost.

He frowned as he caught sight of one of two businessmen eating their meal at a table across the room, beneath a wall light.

“Damn-and-blast,” he muttered, just loud enough to attract Dianne’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, adding jovially, “Have you just seen the prices?”

“There’s a man over there – he knows me.”

She was too experienced an agent to turn and look. Instead she raised her glass of champagne and sipped it, leaning back in her chair and smiling.

“Where from?”

“When you and your mother were out scouring the retail outlets of Knightsbridge for bargains, I was at Atlantic airport, checking a reported sighting of Captain Black with Adam, and when we couldn’t find hide nor hair of him, Adam took the opportunity to drop by the company offices to see his father about something or other. John Svenson was just concluding a meeting with that man when we got there, and, for reasons best known to himself, he introduced us. The man is Daniel Gibbons of Mottram and Gibbons, the American bio-engineering company.”

“You sure? It can’t have been a long encounter, Paul.”

“I particularly remember because, out of the blue, John Svenson cracked a joke. He told us ‘Mottram and Gibbons’ were in a bad way – some big Government-backed project had gone pear-shaped, leaving them with a serious cash-flow problem – and he said he thought it was a shame because Gibbons was a decent man, and the company was inherently sound, so he really hoped he wasn’t watching Gibbons’ decline and fall.”

“That’s a joke?” Dianne sounded sceptical.

“Listen; Adam told me he can count the original jokes his father’s ever made on his fingers and still have a few digits to spare. So I guess by Svenson standards that was a rib-tickler.”

She rolled her eyes and asked: “Is Gibbons likely to remember you – that’s the real question here.”

He shrugged. “He might, especially if he’s still hoping to get some cash out of SvenCorp.”

“Mr Svenson didn’t hand the much-needed cash over then?”

“Some, I think – but not enough. Adam said he might well be looking to pick up the pieces for a good price, if the company goes under. Being Adam, he went on to say that it’d be a perfect candidate for a leveraged buy-out under those conditions. You know what he gets like when he starts talking business-speak.”

Dianne grimaced and sipped her drink thoughtfully.

Even though Captain Blue had chosen not to work with his father in the family’s finance company, he still had some tinge of the callousness that made John Svenson the successful financial magnate he undoubtedly was. Dianne also knew that this was one of the frequent sources of conflict between Blue and Symphony, who complained that he discussed closing factories and shedding jobs with no consideration for the people involved – and made it clear that she didn’t like it. Symphony’s upbringing had been far less privileged than her fiancé’s – in fact, of all the Angels her family had probably been the least comfortably off – and she empathised with the unknown workers John Svenson’s deals left unemployed.

Of course, it wasn’t hard to see why Adam was the way he was; his upbringing had been steeped in his father’s business activities and such discussions must have been commonplace, so Dianne suspected insensitivity to the dilemmas of unknown individuals was bred into him, and reinforced by never having to wonder if he had enough money to pay for his next meal.

This attitude seemed to be rubbing off on his best friend and partner: Paul and Adam had worked together for some years now, and their shared experiences had forged a bond between them that transcended mere friendship, so this wasn’t by any means unexpected. Besides, although Paul’s family was not in the same financial league as the Svensons – few people were – they were solid country gentry, firmly upper-middle class and hardly on the breadline.

He’ll probably think I’m being overly sentimental, she thought, especially because I can’t claim to have any experience of being that strapped for cash either, but this close to Christmas it does seem heartless to talk about allowing a company to fail just so you can make even more money.

She sighed, but decided not to get embroiled in an argument with him that might well spoil their weekend. Paul wouldn’t appreciate hearing his friend criticised, especially not when Adam had so recently done him a favour.

Instead she replied, “Well, you have nothing to do with SvenCorp, so hopefully Mr Gibbons will leave you alone – leave us alone. After all, he can see you’re not exactly here on business.”

“True,” Paul said, and took a sip of champagne. “Mind you, the odds against coming to a place like this and meeting someone you know must be astronomical.”

She nodded and sighed. “I suppose the old adage about it being a small world is true.”

He reached for her hand. “Let’s try and ignore him; this weekend is for you and me, after all.”

“Yes,” she said, “it is. So no sneaking off to phone Adam - or his father – even if Gibbons does speak to you! Promise?”

His momentary hesitation, slight though it was, told her far more than his less than whole-hearted verbal agreement did.

Just then the waiter came for their orders, and they had to concentrate on making their selection, and when they’d finished and he removed the oversize leather folders, the men at the opposite table had gone.

The food was excellent and they lingered over their meal, extracting every pleasure they could from the experience. Since his Mysteronisation, Paul’s appetite fluctuated widely. When he had recovered from a serious injury – or a death – he was always ravenous and would eat and drink large amounts, but other than that his appetite was insignificant, and he ate chiefly for the pleasure of it; so much so that, often enough, an intimate meal together became an integral part of their romantic foreplay.

Tonight was no exception.

When Dianne finally finished the rich, chocolate dessert she’d chosen and shared with Paul, feeding him spoonfuls across the table, the waiter asked them if they’d like to take liqueurs and coffee in the library or the lounge.

“The lounge, I think,” she said, smiling up at the young man.

It was a bad call: the only other guests in the lounge were Daniel Gibbons and his companion. They’d hardly settled into their chosen seats before he came over.

“Forgive me for disturbing you,” he said, addressing Paul, “but I believe we’ve met before. I’m Daniel Gibbons.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Paul replied quickly and decisively. It was important to sew doubt early on.

“Recently, in Boston?”

“I haven’t been there for years,” Paul replied, with a shake of his head.

“Surely, you were there with John Svenson’s son?” Gibbons insisted, frowning at Paul with intensity.

“I’m afraid not. My name’s Blake and I live in London.”

“That’s remarkable; I felt sure…”

“I wish you were John Svenson’s son, darling, he’s as rich as Croesus,” Dianne said, smiling warmly at Dan Gibbons to distract his attention.

“That’d do nicely,” Paul agreed.

“Well, it looks like I’m in the wrong. I’m very sorry to have disturbed you – it’s my mistake,” Gibbons said.

“No problem, Mr Gibbons; it’s a pleasure,” Paul said, holding out his hand towards the older man.

Gibbons shook it and then, as Dianne held her hand out too, he shook that rather more warmly.

“We’re here on a delayed honeymoon,” she explained coyly.

“Really?”

“Oh yes, we wanted somewhere secluded. We don’t get that much time to be alone.”

“Well, I’m sure I hope you’ll have a great time and I apologise for intruding.”

“Goodbye, Mr Gibbons, so nice to have met you,” she said with a finality that made it clear she didn’t expect to be speaking to him again.

“Goodbye, Mrs Blake.”

Paul watched the man walk back to his companion. The other man turned at his approach and for the first time Paul could see his face clearly.

“Whoa; that’s not good, not good at all.”

This time Dianne did turn to look, concerned at the alarm in his voice.

“You know the other man too?”

“Yes, and so should you. Look again.”

She gave the man a concentrated stare. “Nathan Ambrose,” she murmured wearily. “Looks like Dan Gibbons is really scraping the bottom of the pond if he’s doing business with the likes of Ambrose. How that man stays ahead of the law beats me.”

“Good lawyers,” Paul responded succinctly. “You know, Di, I have a nasty feeling about all this. I think I ought to warn the Svensons; if Gibbons is caught up with Ambrose, things must be really bad for his company.”

“You can’t! You promised, Paul, and besides, it’s none of your business.”

“I know it isn’t my business, exactly – but whatever he says about it, SvenCorp’s business is Adam’s business –the whole family is caught up with it. And if SvenCorp gets involved with lowlife such as Ambrose, it could do it real damage.”

“Paul, Adam’s father deals with problems like this every day without your help,” she argued angrily. “We came here to be together, and to relax. You’ve had such a rough time of it, lately, my darling; this was supposed to help you get away from it all. If you call Adam, it’ll spoil everything.”

“But Ambrose is trouble,” he reasoned, “big trouble. Look at what happened a couple of years ago, when he put one over on the Charing Cross and Marylebone Bank. The place went under eventually. All I intend to do is warn Adam to warn his father. It’s what any friend would do in the circumstances; surely you can see that, Di? You’d warn one of the Angels of possible trouble heading their way, if you saw it.”

“But we’re not talking about just warning Adam, are we? If you speak to him - or his father - they’ll expect you to get involved, and bang goes our weekend.”

“They won’t,” he said dismissively. “Adam knows we’re on holiday, he won’t expect us to do anything else. Trust me, I know he won’t.”

“Adam will tell his father and John Svenson will pester him until he calls you. And if Adam is as involved with SvenCorp as you say he is - I bet you he’d be on the phone within an hour, and what grounds will you have to refuse his request to find out more? Keep out of it, Paul.”

He looked across at her, seeing a glint of annoyance in her soft, blue eyes. She didn’t lose her temper with him very often, but – in accord with her red hair – when she did it was swift and explosive. He could see that she was close to losing it now and he dropped his eyes to study his brandy glass for a long moment.

She saw his eyes flicker towards Gibbons and Ambrose and then he said, in a voice that was truly contrite, “I’m sorry, Dianne. I have to tell them; I owe it to Adam. It’s the least I can do and it won’t take me a minute. He won’t call me back – you’ll see.”

She met his eyes as they returned to her face to study her reaction, and felt a spurt of jealous anger shoot through her. She’d always prided herself on her own understanding of what Paul and Adam meant to each other, and how mutually supportive they were. She also knew Karen got a lot more exasperated at the close bond between the two friends than she did herself, and she doubted that Adam ever told Paul just how much grief he got from his fiancée over it. She liked Adam Svenson; he was a decent man and a good friend, to her as well as to Paul. However, there had to be a limit and she’d just reached it.

“You do what you like, Paul; you’re obviously not going to listen to what I have to say about it. I’m going upstairs. I don’t expect to see you – you’ll be too busy sleuthing for your friend – so I’m going to lock the door.”

“Dianne!”

“Goodnight, Paul.”

“For heaven’s sake, be reasonable…”

But his protest was in vain as she stalked out of the lounge and raced up the stairs before her anger could cool.

Undeterred by Rhapsody’s anger, Captain Scarlet walked outside into the bitingly cold night air and strode purposefully through the gardens towards the edge of the cliff that overlooked the dark waters of the loch. He had no intention of risking anyone overhearing his conversation with Captain Blue: even if Gibbons and Ambrose didn’t realise he was a Spectrum agent, they might see him as a conduit to continue lobbying the Svensons and Dianne would have been proved right.

He used his personal mobile phone and dialled Blue’s personal number. He got his voicemail.

Hi, this is Adam Svenson’s phone. I’m sorry I can’t take your call right now, please leave a message and a number where I can reach you, and I’ll get back to you when I can.

“Adam, it’s Paul. You’ll never guess who I’ve run into at Castle Cathcart. I thought I ought to tip you off because Dan Gibbons is here with Nathan Ambrose. No idea why, of course, but maybe you should let your father know? Anyway – please don’t bother to call back – that’s all I know, and Dianne will skin me alive if you interrupt our holiday. I’m in enough hot water as it is just for making this call – and I mean metaphorical hot water, dammit. I still have to sweet-talk my way back into our apartment. The things I do for you, Blue-boy. See you Tuesday.”

He closed the call and slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket.

The sky was inky-black with innumerable stars visible in the vast, open canopy above him. There was a new moon, just powerful enough to make a shard of silver reflect in the smooth, silent loch. The snow was several inches deep, and a deep frost was hardening the surface, so that his foot broke through a crust of ice with every step he took. Even as a boy, Paul Metcalfe had liked the night, and since his Mysteronisation he needed very little sleep. He frequently took command of Cloudbase overnight, and while the duty Comms Lieutenant manned the computers, he would stand in one of the observation tubes that reached out into the vastness of the troposphere, wishing he could experience that emptiness first hand. Even on nights when he wasn’t on command duty, he would often wander the corridors, or sitting gazing out at the stars from the restaurant, or more often from the Promenade deck. Sometimes he had Adam’s company, when his friend was suffering from one of his periodic bouts of insomnia, but part of the satisfaction he took from the experience was the solitude.

Here the intense darkness reminded him of home, and of the nights when he slipped out to walk the ever-willing dogs around the much-loved valley and familiar hills. Even though it was so cold, he took the time to appreciate his surroundings, looking back towards the castle, across the formal gardens and along the avenue of pollarded trees, their bare branches glistening with snow and frost.

Musing on the unlikely twist of fate that had brought about his present situation, he was sure Dianne wouldn’t stay mad at him for long; he could see the warm, yellow glow of the lights in their apartment at the top of the nearest tower, and knew she was probably waiting for him to come and apologise.

He gave an anticipatory smile. Making up is always fun… I guess that’s why Adam and Karen stay together.

With a renewed sense of purpose, he set out to return to the hotel.

He had just reached the gravel driveway when he saw the sweep of approaching headlights and heard the crunch of wheels. Instinct made him fade back into the shadow of the trees, pulling the collar of his dark jacket high around his chin.

A grey sedan pulled up at the front entrance and the driver got out. He paused a moment, scanning the driveway and the hotel before him, and for one moment he glanced towards the gardens where Scarlet was hiding. Scarlet drew a sharp breath as his eyes confirmed what the familiar sensation of dizzy nausea was telling him.

The man was Captain Black.

Black walked away from the sedan and up to the front door. He pushed it open and stalked inside.

Impulsively, Scarlet ran forward, and then paused. He wasn’t armed, and apart from his mobile phone he had no means of communicating with Spectrum. The chances were that Blue wouldn’t be back from wherever he was, and leaving another message to the effect that he’d spotted Captain Black wasn’t going to be much use. He glanced up at the still illuminated window of the apartment where Rhapsody was. He pressed the quick-dial button for her number and waited.

Her phone rang and then her voicemail cut in: she hadn’t got the machine switched on.

Cursing, Scarlet reviewed his options. As long as Dianne stayed sulking in her room, he figured she’d be safe, but it meant he had no way of getting Spectrum back up. It was his over-riding duty to discover what Black was doing here and – if at all possible – stop his scheme and apprehend the most wanted man on the planet.

To do that, he needed a weapon and his gun was in the apartment, along with his Spectrum waveband communicator. He approached the front door cautiously and seeing no one in the main hall, he slipped inside. He was walking towards the stairs when he heard Black’s voice coming from the library. He detoured to listen against the partly open door.

“Gibbons has the bacteria with him; I’m sure of it,” Nathan Ambrose said.

“You were instructed to have it in your possession by now,” Black’s deep voice rumbled in reply.

“He’s nervous – very nervous. My instructions were not to scare him off.”

“The Mysterons do not tolerate failure,” Black warned.

“I will not fail. The Mysterons’ instructions will be carried out. I have convinced Gibbons that you are an agent of the Bereznian military and you wish to buy the bacteria. Earthmen are always swayed by the lure of money.”

“Our schedule does not allow time for play acting.”

Ambrose continued to remonstrate. “I could have killed him, our masters could have killed him, but that was not part of the plan. Gibbons’s access to Spectrum’s research facilities was too valuable an asset to risk his being detected by the Earthmen’s security devices.”

“Do not tell me what the Mysterons intend to do,” Black said flatly. “I am here to collect the bacteria and you do not have it.”

“It is in his room, with him. We can collect it now,” Ambrose said.

“Very well.”

The voices were coming closer and Scarlet had to slip away from the door. He glanced around and realised there was nowhere to hide. Sprinting towards the stairs as fast as he could, Scarlet was all too aware of the fact that he was in direct line of sight from the library, and he had no doubt Black would recognise him.

He’d almost reached the cover of the arched staircase when he heard a shout behind him.

“SCARLET!”

He didn’t stop but sprinted on upwards, desperate to get to his communicator and weapon and be on the way back down, leading them away from Dianne, before Black caught up with him.

He reached the door and pounded on it.

“Dianne – open up! Black’s here!”

“Paul? Don’t be so stupid!”

He thumped harder. “Rhapsody! S.I.R!”

He could hear her coming towards the door and as soon as the key turned in the lock, he forced the door open and pushed his way in, knocking her onto the bed.

“Lock it after me,” he ordered as he collected his gun and communicator from the bedside drawer. He paused long enough to kiss her lips and raced back out of the door and down the stairs.

He cannoned into Captain Black, knocking the Mysterons’ agent from his feet and the pair tumbled down the stairs together, cracking heads and limbs against the unyielding roughness of the walls.

Scarlet was the first to his feet as they lay winded on the hall floor, and pushing Ambrose aside, he turned to face Captain Black.

“Get to your feet,” he gasped, gesturing with his gun.

Black rolled over onto his hands and knees, his head down as if in defeat. Then suddenly he lurched forward, his shoulders ramming into Scarlet’s legs, so that he fell backwards, the gun spinning from his hand as he fell.

Black straddled Scarlet and punched him hard between the eyes. There was a crunch, and amidst the excruciating pain, Scarlet felt a sudden gush of hot, sticky blood pour from his shattered nose. He swallowed hard, and the unmistakable taste made him struggle upright in an urgent need to prevent himself drowning in his own blood. His assailant was caught off-balance, and Scarlet slithered away and staggered to his feet, stumbling for the door and out into the blackness.

Black pursued him, although the trail of blood made it impossible for his adversary to hide.

Scarlet staggered on though the garden heading for the cliff top. He had some vague idea that he might either hide somewhere on the cliff face, or wrestle Black into the icy waters. The copious loss of blood was making it hard to keep focused on his scheme and he had to stop, gasping for breath and spitting mouthfuls of salty blood out onto the silver-tinted snow, conscious all the time that Black was closing the gap.

Light-headed, he came to a halt close to the edge and waited for Black to reach him.

The older man was in a much better physical shape than Scarlet, and obviously in no mood to waste time disposing of his adversary. He had stopped to pick up Scarlet’s Spectrum gun and now he aimed it and tried to fire.

The gun did not work.

Scarlet managed a smile. “I disabled it. I don’t leave it open to misuse when I’m off-duty, so it’ll only operate when I fire it. You taught us all to do that as a matter of course, Conrad. Your memory must be slipping.”

“You have interfered with the Mysterons’ plans again, Captain Scarlet. You will be punished.”

“I guess you have to try; although I’d have thought even you would have got the message that you can’t stop me, Black.”

Scarlet wasn’t quick enough to dodge when Black rushed at him, propelling him towards the cliff edge. The pair wrestled, slithering in the blood-red snow. Scarlet found himself disadvantaged as much by the nausea the proximity of a Mysteron generated within him, as by his loss of blood, and he struggled to remain conscious.

Finally, Black managed to get his opponent to the brink of the cliff and with a final push, thrust Captain Scarlet over, down into the freezing embrace of the loch.

He watched as the water closed over the body, and with a glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes, turned and walked hurriedly towards the house.

Dianne had gone back to their room annoyed with Paul’s stubborn decision to get involved in what she genuinely considered none of his business. True, he was close to Adam Svenson and knew and liked his friend’s family, but surely she was right to say there was a cut-off point?

She locked the door behind her, although she expected Paul would come after her and she’d unlock it. She rested her back against the wood, listening carefully for the sound of his footsteps, until she realised with embarrassed irritation that he wasn’t coming.

She went into the bathroom and got ready for bed, pulling on the satin pyjamas and dressing gown she’d intended to lounge around in on the lazy mornings. She brushed her long, copper-red hair until it shone, and cleaned the make up from her face.

But there was still no sign that Paul was going to come and apologise to her.

She retrieved her book from her suitcase and lay on the bed, but the momentum to read was lacking. The turret room was warm, and she was tired after a busy day and a good meal, and it wasn’t long before she began to feel dozy.

If he wants to spend the night on the sofa, that’s up to him, she thought defensively, trying to justify her actions. He’ll have to learn that he can’t always be in the right. Karen’s right about that, if nothing else; these guys are all so used to getting their own way that they think they can walk all over our finer feelings with impunity.

It was all very well feeling justified, but as Rhapsody put her book onto the bedside table, she decided she’d have rather felt loved.

She had just slipped into the silky sheets and closed her eyes when she heard footsteps running up the stairs and moments later Paul’s voice shouting to her as he thumped the door.

Struggling to focus, she remonstrated with him, but on hearing the emergency red-alert code – S.I.R. – she knew it must be for real, no Spectrum agent would use that without good reason.

As she turned the key she was flung back by the opening of the door, and fell across the bed.

“Paul! What’s going on?” she demanded, watching him retrieve his gun and race back towards the door, pausing just long enough to kiss her.

“Lock it after me!” he ordered, and disappeared down the stairs.

Rhapsody went and peered down after him, but she couldn’t see much due to the twisting spiral. She heard a shout, followed by a muted thud and the rumble of bodies falling.

She closed the door and rushed to get dressed, anxious to go to her lover’s assistance. She put a pair of denim jeans on over her pyjamas and struggled into a chunky sweater. She paused to brush the hair from her eyes and turned to see Nathan Ambrose standing in the doorway.

He was pointing a gun at her.

“You’re going to come with me,” he said angrily.

Dianne drew herself up and said with an aristocratic burst of anger, “Get out of here! What do you think you’re doing?”

“I know you’re a Spectrum agent, and you must not be allowed to interfere with the Mysterons’ plans, Earthwoman.”

Her heart sank. She realised the man would have no compunction about shooting her if she disobeyed; Mysteron agents had no compassion.

“Let me get some shoes?” she asked, and when he made no reply she slowly bent down and reached for one of the brogues she’d lined up under the dressing table.

In one swift, fluid movement, she flung the shoe towards Ambrose and rushed him. He dodged the missile easily enough, his pistol firing harmlessly into the ceiling. Dianne tried to get past him, using all of her strength against him, but the Mysteron seemed impervious to her blows.

He spun around and brought the pistol butt down onto the back of her head.

Rhapsody gasped in pain and crumpled to the floor as everything went black.

Cloudbase.

Captain Blue finished his tour of duty with relief.

He’d taken a nasty crack to the head on the last mission he and Scarlet had undertaken, and Doctor Fawn had kept him in sickbay overnight to make sure he wasn’t concussed. He’d been pleased to escape in time to wave his friend off on his vacation, but now he felt exhausted. He debated going down to the Amber Room, where he knew Symphony was on stand-by duty, but decided against it. If she wanted to see him, she’d drop by his quarters when her duty finished; in the meantime, he could do with some peace and quiet and maybe even a little sleep.

He strolled into his quarters and took off his cap and his tunic, before reaching down to unzip the blue boots. He stretched and rubbed the side of his head, gingerly feeling the small swelling that was still there.

After making himself a drink, he sat in his armchair and rested his feet on the low coffee table. As he shifted to get comfortable, he knocked a pile of glossy magazines Symphony had left behind her onto the floor. Sighing, he bent to pick them up and saw his cell phone on the table; the discreet red light that notified him of an incoming message was blinking.

This close to Christmas, the chances were that it was his mother asking what he wanted as a gift, or telling him of things she’d seen that he might like to give his brothers and sister and would he like her to arrange it for him. Knowing that the chances of doing his own shopping this year were slight, he was more than ready to accept her help. He picked up the phone and accessed the message.

Moments later he was quick-dialling his father’s private number.

Colonel White had just left the Control Room and was making his way to the officers’ restaurant for something to eat, when he froze and almost tripped off the end of the escalator. The Tannoy system was crackling – a well-known and much feared indicator that the Mysterons were about to issue yet another threat.

THIS IS THE VOICE OF THE MYSTERONS. WE KNOW THAT YOU CAN HEAR US, EARTHMEN. WE HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN YOUR UNPROVOKED ATTACK ON OUR MARTIAN COMPLEX AND OUR RETALITAION FOR THAT ACT OF AGGRESSION CONTINUES. WE WILL DESTROY KATANIA. WITHIN THE NEXT TWENTY-FOUR HOURS THE FATE OF KATANIA WILL BE SEALED.

As the echoes of that menacing, deep voice faded into silence, Colonel White turned and marched back up the escalator.

Lieutenant Green had already summoned the on-duty captains to the conference room, along with the standby-duty Angel. He glanced up at his commanding officer and reported what he’d done.

“Excellent,” White replied, collecting his notebook and pen. “Ask Captain Blue to join us, will you, before you come along yourself. With Captain Scarlet away and Captain Magenta in Futura, we need every man we can get on this one. If the Mysterons make even a partially successful move against the Bereznian capital city, their military government will retaliate with an all-out attack on the states of the World Government. We have to move quickly.”

“S.I.G., Colonel. I’ll get Lieutenant Claret to cover the comms desk and be right with you, sir.”

Captain Blue was the last to arrive in the Conference Room; he saluted and took his seat between Captain Ochre and Destiny Angel.

“Lieutenant Green,” Colonel White said, by way of starting the meeting, “Please play back the Mysterons’ threat.”

Everyone listened again to the chilling message.

“Well, for once they’re not playing hide and seek with us,” Ochre said. “They’ve told us exactly where they mean to strike and when.”

“Indeed they have, Captain,” White agreed. “But we don’t have any indication how they plan to accomplish their threat.” He turned to Lieutenant Green. “Has the research library come up with anything yet?”

“No, sir. There is a team of four researchers working on it.”

White nodded. There was a small, dedicated staff of researchers, who monitored world news from every printed and broadcast source. They were all experienced and good at their job and it was rare that they failed to turn up something of use. However, the Bereznian Government was notoriously wary of broadcasting information, and sometimes events came out of the blue.

“Do you intend to alert the military government to the danger, sir?” Blue asked.

Colonel White raised a dark eyebrow and gave a sigh. “I’m not sure they’d believe me if I did, Captain. When we have more concrete information, it might be worth contacting them, but at the moment we have nothing except the threat, and the Bereznians are not privy to the full extent of the Mysteron menace. They’re likely to dismiss us as scaremongers.”

“Can we risk not warning them?” Captain Grey asked.

Just then the intercom buzzed and Lieutenant Claret excused himself for interrupting.

“I have Doctor Giardello on the line, Colonel; it seems he has something of a potential problem to report.”

“Put him through, Lieutenant.”

Doctor Robert Giardello, the head of Spectrum Intelligence’s Research and Development department – SIRAD – came onscreen.

“Colonel White, I am sorry to interrupt your meeting, but I have just concluded a most perturbing conversation with Mr Daniel Gibbons.”

“Please continue, Doctor Giardello,” the colonel said politely. He had great respect for the scientist and tolerated the man’s occasional absent-minded self-absorption.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of Mottram and Gibbons, the bio-engineering company from the mid-west? Well, Daniel Gibbons is the leading light in their research, and a man I have been doing business with on behalf of Spectrum for some months now. The company have developed a genetically altered bacterium capable of cutting the time taken for unfiltered water to be made potable. These bacteria feed on harmful pathogens, but are in themselves harmless and when introduced to a self-contained body of water, they die out once they have exhausted their food supply – not unnaturally. I can see that it will have great potential on Cloudbase and, of course, any other installation where water is isolated and reused.”

“Fascinating, Doctor, but how may we help you?” the colonel asked, gently guiding Giardello back to the reason for his call.

“Forgive me. Mottram and Gibbons were not only working on their WFB-zero85 project; at the instigation of the World Navy and the WASPs they’ve been working on a similar bacterium that could revolutionise air filtration. In fact, they did develop such a bacterium – the AFB-107 - for use in submarine fleets, and since it could have proven useful for Cloudbase, SIRAD provided the company with testing facilities at a local research base. However,” he added at a rush, seeing the colonel open his mouth to interrupt again, “in tests, the bacteria proved to be something of a hazard. They multiplied so quickly that they removed everything from the atmosphere, including the oxygen, and in so doing produced a vacuum. Naturally, this would be of no use on Cloudbase, or in a submarine.”

“I’d say not,” Ochre muttered, with a sly wink at Grey and Blue.

“Well, it seems that the funding for this project was all but exhausted and the military were demanding the promised results for their investment. Mottram and Gibbons were desperate to find the cash from somewhere. To this extent, they accepted an offer for their, shall we say, ‘over-enthusiastic’ bacteria from the Bereznian military.”

“Doctor, if you have called to ask for more funding-”

“No, Colonel; I am sorry, but I felt you needed to understand the situation Mr Gibbons found himself in. He was aware of the restrictions on trading with Bereznik, but then he was approached by someone offering to act as an intermediary, he reluctantly agreed. He went to a place in Scotland-”

“Cathcart Castle,” Captain Blue interjected, as a frown clouded his handsome features.

“Why, yes indeed it was, Captain Blue,” Giardello said, surprised. “It was there he was to meet the Bereznian contact, in the company of his go-between-”

“Nathan Ambrose,” Blue said, concern in his voice.

“Yes – tell me, is this already known to you all?” Giardello asked.

Captain Blue met the colonel’s stern gaze and began to explain. “Captain Scarlet and Rhapsody Angel are staying at Cathcart Castle, sir. Captain Scarlet informed me earlier that he had seen Mr Gibbons in company with Nathan Ambrose. You see, my father’s company does business with Mottram and Gibbons, sir.”

White nodded. He knew the reputation of the slippery Nathan Ambrose well enough not to wonder why Scarlet had felt obliged to report the information to his friend.

“Is that all you have to tell us, Doctor?” he asked Giardello.

“No, that’s just the start. I thought you should know th