"I KNEW this was a bad idea," a man was fretting. "I KNEW it."
"What're you talking about, man?" a second man said. "That dude's offered us a ton of money just to baby-sit this lady."
Laura head the first man sigh. "You've been using again, haven't you, Mac? Don't you know WHO that lady is? Mrs. Robie? Room 402?"
"So?"
"If her husband raises a stink about her being gone- the police MIGHT search their room. And if they search that room, they MIGHT find-"
"The junk. Oh, man. Damn."
So these two men were the ones she and Remington were in Hawaii to find, Laura realized. And they had apparently already hidden the heroin. She felt like a total fool, and tried once again to loosen her bonds. She should have stayed in the room. Not gone rushing off to try and back up Remington in his meeting with DeMoray.
She had opened the door-only to very nearly run into the bellhop who was standing there. The young man had informed Laura that her husband had fallen and was injured- and wanted her to accompany him to the hospital.
He had pointed out that the stairs would be faster than the elevator, and worried about Remington, Laura had entered the stairwell, only to find herself being held fast as a sweet smelling cloth had been placed over her nose and mouth…
The door to the room she was in opened, and Laura went still, pretending to still be unconscious. "She's still out," the called Mac said to his partner. "How long do we have to keep her here?"
"Just til tomorrow at noon-" the telephone rang, and the door closed again. Laura started trying to get free. "Hello?…Yeah. She's still unconscious…No, we didn't' give her too much…My sister's a nurse. I know about-…Look, Mac and I- well, we're worried that the lady's husband might set the police-…You're sure about that?…No, no, I'm not questioning you. I just wanted to be certain, that's all…Okay. Yeah."
"What'd he say?" Mac asked.
"Said that Mr. Robie won't be going to the police- he's going to be too busy getting something for Mr. DeMoray. He wants me to go back to the hotel and work my shift as usual, just keep an eye on Robie. Think you can handle keeping an eye on the lady?"
"Sure, man. Easy. I mean, she's tied up. What can she do?"
Laura felt the rope on her wrist start to loosen just a bit…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remington stood at the window of the suite, watching as the lights began to come on around the Harbor. What would Laura do in this situation? He wondered, then caught up short. Where had he heard that before?
With a groan, his head fell against the cold glass. Wilson Jeffries. "Good Lord," he muttered. But it was a good question. What WOULD Laura Holt do?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laura freed her hands at last, and sat up to unfasten the rope around her ankles, listening as the front door of her prison closed behind one of her captors. She wouldn't have much time, she figured. "Mac" would probably be in here to check on her any minute, as per his friend's instructions. At the moment, Laura's mind was on Remington. Obviously, DeMoray had kidnapped her to hold her for ransom until Remington stole the Lavulite for him. She had to get back to the hotel and stop him before he made a serious mistake.
The rope was almost untied when she heard the door open and Mac said, "Hey! Stop that!" He rushed to the bed and pushed her back down, retying the rope at her feet. "How long you been awake, lady?"
"Long enough," she said, struggling as he started to tie her wrists again. "Ouch! That's going to cut off my circulation!" He jerked the rope tighter. "I don't guess it matters anyway, though. I doubt Phillipe DeMoray intends to let me leave here alive."
Mac moved back, his dark eyes confused. "He said we were just supposed to keep you here until tomorrow at noon. Never said anything about murder."
"He doesn't like witnesses," Laura told the man. "He's a cold blooded killer- he's even tried to kill his partners. He was in prison for murder."
Mac's dark eyes narrowed. "As long as he pays me and my friend the money he promised, it doesn't matter much to me."
"IF he lets you live. He doesn't like loose ends, Mac. Do you really think he'll let you and your friend just walk away?"
Mac shook his head and left the room, closing the door behind him. Laura began to struggle with the ropes once again. She had to get out of here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remington finished the note and placed it in his jacket pocket before leaving the room. As he went toward the elevator, it opened, and the bellhop who had brought their cases up came out. He smiled. "Evening, Mr. Robie."
"Evening." Remington started into the elevator, then stopped. "Uh- you didn't happen to see my wife this evening, did you?"
The man smiled. "Sorry. Is she missing?"
"No," Remington said quickly. "She's probably waiting for me downstairs." The elevator doors closed, taking Remington down to the lobby.
As he entered the area set aside for the luau, Remington's eyes searched the tables, and his managed a smile as he saw Mildred's blonde hair as she sat beside a middle aged gentleman. Luckily, there was a seat on the other side of her that was vacant, and Remington moved toward her. "Excuse me." Mildred turned to look at him, and he was pleased that she remembered that they weren't supposed to know each other. "Is this seat taken?"
"No," Mildred assured him. When he sat down, she said, "Mildred Krebs, Los Angeles. You checked in last night just before I did, didn't you? You and your wife?"
"Um, yes. I suppose we did," Remington said. "John Robie," he told her, slipping her the note he'd written as they shook hands.
Mildred looked past him to the other chair, where a blue haired matron was sitting, chatting with another man across the table. "Where's your wife?" He saw her slide the note into a pocket.
"She- uh- she wasn't feeling well. Insisted that I come down here." He saw the concern in Mildred's eyes. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. Probably something she ate while we were out today. Be right as rain tomorrow, I've no doubt."
"I hope so. It would be a shame for someone to come to Hawaii and end up sick the entire time. Where are you two from?"
"Los Angeles," he told her.
"Really? Small world. Guess you and the missus are on your honeymoon, right? I mean, I noticed that you're on the fourth floor."
"Second honeymoon, actually."
Mildred picked up her purse. "If you'll excuse me, I have to visit the little girl's room."
Remington nodded. "I think I'll go back to the room and check on Laura. I just don't feel right being here without her…" he said, rising with her.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mildred went to the ladies' room and pulled the note that Mr. Steele had handed her from her pocket. She had a feeling something was VERY wrong- and the note confirmed her fears. Not only was something wrong, those two kids were in a lot of trouble. Putting the note back, she returned to the luau for a few minutes and then left again, telling the stock broker who was trying to get her attention that she was tired and needed to get some rest. But instead of going upstairs, she left the hotel. If Mr. Steele was right, then there wasn't much time to spare…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remington was going through the items that he and Laura had picked up during their trip around the city earlier in the day when the telephone rang. Grabbing the receiver, he spoke. "Hello?"
"Everything ready, Harry?" Phillipe asked.
"Look, I'm not doing anything until I know that Laura's still alive and unharmed."
"I can assure you that she will well and will stay that way- if you cooperate."
"I know better, Phillipe. Once you have the gems, Laura and I both become expendable. Witnesses, to be killed like that guard was in Australia. What guarantee do I have that you'll let us walk away?"
"None. You simply have to trust me. I'll be touch." The line went dead. Remington hung up, angry and worried. He and Laura were both dead unless his plan worked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Laura heard a knock on the front door, heard Mac open it and greet someone. She couldn't hear all of the words, but she easily recognized the accent of his visitor. "Has she given you any trouble?" he asked, just on the other side of the door.
"She managed to untie her hands earlier," Mac explained. "I stopped her and tied them tighter. She's been quiet since then."
"Good." The door opened, and Laura's eyes met Phillipe's.
"You won't get away with this, DeMoray," she said.
"I don't have to. Your- husband is the one who must worry about that. I'm going to be right here, keeping you company while he's retrieving the gems for me."
"He's a little out of practice," Laura said. "He might get caught."
"You had best hope that he doesn't, cherie," Phillipe declared in a dangerous tone. Laura moved, and winced as the ropes chafed her raw wrists. He moved close to the bed and untied her. "Better?" he asked, remaining close. TOO close, Laura thought, feeling sickened by the smell of stale cigars and whiskey on his breath. She moved suddenly, rolling from the bed and to her feet, and made a dash for the window. But Phillipe moved quickly for a large man, grabbing her arm. "Uh, uh. Sit," he told her, pushing her into a chair. "Mac!" he called out.
Mac came in, his eyes widening as he saw Laura sitting there. "Yes, Mr. DeMoray?"
"Something to eat for our guest. And something to drink."
"I'm not hungry," Laura informed him. "So don't bother."
"But I promised Harry that I would take care of you. You wouldn't want me to break my promise to an old friend, would you?" he nodded in Mac's direction, and the man left, closing the door again.
"You're not going to let us go, DeMoray," Laura pointed out. "Harry, me, those two poor men that you duped into helping you- we're all expendable. We're witnesses. Loose ends."
Phillipe lit a cigar and studied the end of it for a moment through a haze of smoke. "I could be- persuaded to change my mind," he told her. "Under the right circumstances." He looked at her, and Laura had little doubt of what he meant.
She shuddered. "When Hell freezes over," she muttered.
The man's lips thinned. "You might change your mind about that. When it comes down to the heart of the matter. We shall see." He picked up the telephone that was on the table between them and dialed a number. "Hello, Harry . . ." Laura fought her desire to grab the telephone from his hands. "There is someone here who wishes to speak to you." He held out the receiver. "No tricks, cherie."
Laura took the phone. "Harry?"
"Laura," he said, and she heard the relief in his voice. "Are you okay?"
"For the moment," she assured him. "Harry, don't-"
Phillipe grabbed the telephone from her. "I think that is enough," he told her. "You've been reassured now, Harry. You have a job to do. I suggest you do it. I'll call you tomorrow morning." He hung up. "Foolish, cherie. Very foolish."
"I was just going to tell him not to steal those gems. The risk is too great."
Phillipe reached out to touch her cheek, frowning as she pulled back. "The risk will be greater if he fails. For both of you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Remington changed into what Laura had once referred to as his "working clothes"- dark slacks, sweater, soft-soled shoes, and stuffed the things he would need into a knapsack. Glancing at the clock, he frowned. It was time to go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The vent was smaller than he had thought it would be, and took longer to navigate. The grate into the gem room came loose easily, and Remington barely caught it before it hit the floor. He carefully lowered it against the wall, then put on the dark glasses that would allow him to see the laser beams that criss-crossed the floor at various intervals.
With the glasses, the beams were easily avoided, and he made his way to the display case in the center of the room. The control panel for the alarm system was built into the base, and he used a piece of electronic equipment to discern the proper code sequence to disable it. Once that was done, he examined the case, and used a glasscutter to open a round hole in the side, just large enough for him to reach inside and gather the Royal Lavulite.
Placing the gems into a velvet bag, he stuffed them into his pocket and returned to the vent, replacing the grid and made his way back to the storage room where he'd entered it. He hid the knapsack behind some cleaning supplies and pulled off his sweater to reveal the white shirt beneath. Running a hand through his hair, he went out the side door of the hotel, and came back in through the front.
"Mr. Robie," the desk clerk said. "I wasn't aware that you had gone out," he said.
"Went for a walk," Remington explained. "Could I ask a favor? I have something that I need to put into the hotel safe. A surprise for my wife-"
The clerk smiled. "Of course, Mr. Robie. Follow me, please."