His heart pounding, Harry awakened suddenly from his nightmare, gasping and opening his eyes to scan the unfamiliar surroundings. It took him a moment to remember where he was, and then he set to work trying to recall the dream that had frightened him so much.
As was usually the case with dreams, the details were decidedly hazy. All he could recall for certain was being somewhere dark. Behind him were sounds of someone in trouble, someone who needed his help. But Harry couldn't help- he was unable to move, couldn't even turn around. All he could was listen helplessly.
Sitting up, he sat up and ran a shaking hand through his tousled hair. Thinking that perhaps a cup of coffee might aid in restoring his memory, Harry grabbed a robe and padded to the kitchen to fix some coffee and perhaps something for breakfast- *if* the kitchen had been stocked per his specifications.
He was in the middle of sliding an omelet onto a plate when he remembered who else had been in his dream. Laura. Laura had been in some kind of trouble and he hadn't been able to help her. The omelet forgotten, he grabbed the telephone and then realized that he didn't know her number at home.
He picked up his coffee cup and took a drink as he went to the second bedroom, which had been converted into an office. There, he opened his briefcase and took out the information he'd gathered about Laura. Ah, there it was. Dialing the telephone, he took another sip of coffee, frowning as the phone on the other end continued to ring. Where was she, he wondered?
The remnants of fear from his dream were getting stronger. Something was wrong. Laura was in danger. He was as certain of that as he had been of uprooting his life and moving to Los Angeles. Hanging up, he dialed the number of the office, and was relieved when it was picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Laura? Is that you?"
"Harry? I thought you were Mr. Oliver," she said, sounding anxious and exhausted. "A client," she explained. Hearing her voice alleviated some of the fear that had gripped him. But her tone caused him concern.
"Laura, is everything all right? Why are you at the office this early on a Saturday morning?" he asked.
The silence on the line stretched out forever before Laura finally answered. "Murphy's in trouble," she told him in a quiet voice.
Harry glanced at his watch. "I'll be right there."
"You don't have to-"
"I want to," he said. "Give me ten minutes to get dressed and get Fred over here. Bye." Harry picked up the phone once more to instruct Fred to have the limo downstairs in ten minutes, and then gulped down the rest of his coffee before heading toward the bedroom.
***
The reception area was empty when he got to the office on the eleventh floor, but the doors were unlocked, so Harry pushed them open. "Laura?" he called, his eyes finding the open door that led to Laura's office.
"In here," she called out.
She was sitting at the desk, one hand on the phone, the other wrapped around a cup of coffee. She was wearing dark clothes, and looked tired, as if she hadn't slept all night. "What happened?" he asked, wanting nothing more than to put his arms around her and take her somewhere quiet and safe.
"Everything went wrong," she told him. "Murphy was late meeting me, so I went ahead to the warehouse." Harry winced, aware that the reason for Murphy's being delayed was their little conversation of the previous evening. He watched as Laura rose from her chair to pace the room while she talked. "I know, I probably should have waited for him, but I wanted to stake out the place before anything could happen. While I was in the warehouse, I heard someone else and hid. They came from the back of the warehouse, not from the window that Mr. Oliver was worried about. A minute later, I heard Murphy over the two-way radio and keyed it to let him know that I wasn't alone. The next thing I knew, someone was tossing some pebbles at the window and the two men inside the warehouse opened it. They took what was most likely cocaine from the two men *out*side and that's when I found out that those two men had knocked Murphy unconscious when he'd found them. They lifted him through the window and then left."
"Did they know who Murphy is?"
"They found his identification," she said.
"Where did they take him?"
"Into a tunnel under the warehouse," she said. "I waited until I was sure they had gone, and tried to open the trap door, but there must be some kind of latch- the men left it open while they were in the warehouse, which means it's probably not accessible from inside the warehouse."
"Did you go to the police?"
"Without Mr. Oliver's permission, I can't let them into the warehouse to get that tunnel open. He was pretty emphatic about no police. But I can't just sit here and let them kill Murphy- that is, if they haven't already," she said, sitting down on the sofa in the conference area.
Harry dropped beside her and placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "Have you spoken to Mr. Oliver?"
"I've left messages everywhere, but he hasn't returned my calls. I'm going to give him until nine," she told him, looking at her watch, "That's ten minutes. If he hasn't called by then, I'll go to the police permission or no. Murphy's life is at stake."
Harry felt her shudder, and rubbed her shoulder. "Murphy's strong. He'll make it. I feel certain of that." He allowed himself a smile as Laura's head dropped onto his shoulder.
"I hope you're right, Harry. I don't know how I'd keep things going around here without Murphy. And it's more than just the agency. He's a friend."
"I know," Harry said softly. "I know." He noticed her coffee cup on the desk. "Why don't I go get you some more coffee? I imagine that you could use some." Laura sat there, watching him as he rose and went to get her cup, then he paused. "Uh- where's the coffee machine?"
"Oh. Through the door, second door on the right." As he turned toward the door, she said, "Thanks."
Harry went to the coffee room, which was also being used for file storage. He emptied the dregs from Laura's cup, and refilled it, then found a second cup for himself. He took a sip, and scowled at the taste. A hot cup of the Thames would have tasted better, he thought. Evidently Laura's talents didn't extend to making coffee. He took a moment, emptied the pot, and made a fresh one, pouring out the noxious brew that Laura had made and rinsing the cups. Once the coffee was ready, he refilled the two cups and carried them into her office. "Here you go," he said, handing the mug with a big, bold #1 on it to her before sitting beside her again.
Laura smiled and took the cup, and as Harry watched, took a sip. He saw her surprised reaction. "This isn't my coffee," she said.
"No," he admitted. "I- uh- took the liberty of making a fresh pot. I hope you don't mind."
"Not at all. It's- very good."
Harry could see the curiosity on her face, but wasn't ready to satisfy that curiosity just yet. Time enough for him to surprise her with his culinary skills. He took a glance at his watch. "It's nine."
She took a deep breath and sat forward, reaching for the telephone. "I guess it's now or never."
Harry grabbed her hand, making her look up in surprise. "What if I went with you to the warehouse and tried to open that trapdoor?" he suggested. "That way Mr. Oliver can't be upset that you brought in the police. And if we can't get it open, we'll find the plans for that area and locate the tunnel entrance instead."
"Harry, I can't ask you to risk your life- what if they're guarding Murphy down there?" Laura said. "Besides, It's Saturday. No city offices will be open-"
"Perhaps I'm ready for a little excitement in my life. Believe me, being the Earl of Bensonhurst can be a bit- tedious at times. It's better than taking after my father, don't you think? And you're not asking. I'm offering my help. As for it being Saturday, what good is being an Earl if you can't use it to help your friends?" He stood up, and held out a hand. "Shall we go save Murphy, Miss Holt?"
"Let me call the answering service. If Mr. Oliver calls, they can have him meet us at the warehouse." She looked up at him with a smile of gratitude as she dialed. "Thank you, Harry."
"Don't mention it. Glad to be of service."
***
The warehouse was eerily silent when Laura and Harry entered. "Where's the trapdoor?" he asked, the tire iron from the trunk of the limo in hand.
"Over here," Laura told him, leading him past several valuable pieces of Victorian furniture. "It's right here," she said, indicating the floor in front of them.
Harry surveyed the wood, trying to locate the edges of the door. "Whoever designed this knew what they were doing. Is it standard to build tunnels beneath buildings here?"
"There are tunnels that run under the city, but most of them are dangerous because of the earthquakes," she explained as Harry slipped the end of the pry bar into a crack and applied pressure. All he succeeded in doing was removing a wood slat from the top of a metal doorway. When it gave, Harry nearly fell, and Laura rushed to his side to help him. "Oh, oh, Harry! Are you okay?"
"I think so," he assured her with a wry smile at her concern. "It appears you're right about the interior latch. IF there's a way to open it from this side, I doubt they would have left it open last night."
Laura knelt beside the trap door. "Murphy?" she called out, beating on the door. "Are you down there?"
From below, Harry thought he head a muffled noise. "Listen," he said, grabbing Laura's arm as she would have pounded on the floor again. "Murphy! Can you hear us? Make some noise if you can."
"Mgffft!"
Harry saw the relieved smile on Laura's face as she threw her arms around him. "He's alive!" she declared.
"So it would seem. Now, we have to find the plans to this building," he was saying as the sound of doors opening echoed through the building. "Sounds as if we have company," he told her, rising to his feet as Laura did the same thing.
The little man who appeared from the winding corridors of antiques reminded Harry of a nervous mouse. "Miss Holt-" his gaze fell to the broken floorboard, and then he lifted his eyes to look at Harry. "What have you done to my building? And who are you?" he asked Harry.
Harry extended a hand before Laura could answer. "Remington Steele. I'm an associate of Miss Holt's. Help her out on cases when time permits." A quick glance at Laura revealed her shocked surprise. "As for what we're doing- we're attempting to gain the release of Miss Holt's partner, Murphy Michaels."
Mr. Oliver's beady eyes narrowed. "Have we met before, Mr. Steele? I'm certain I've seen your face-"
"I hear that all the time," Harry insisted with a smile.
"I've been calling you all morning, Mr. Oliver," Laura told her client.
"I know. I was at a- friend's last night," he explained. "I checked my messages when we woke up this morning and when I tried to return your call, I was told to meet you here."
Harry met Laura's frustrated look before she continued. "Mr. Oliver, Murphy and I uncovered evidence last night of a possible drug ring using your warehouse as a drop point," Laura said.
"A -drug ring?" Mr. Oliver repeated, going pale and collapsing into a fragile looking chair as Laura informed him about the events of the previous evening.. "Oh, my. Oh, my." He pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and mopped his brow. "If this were to get out, I would be ruined!" he declared. "No one would trust me to decorate their homes if there was even a *whiff* of anything connecting me to drugs. Oh, dear," he said again.
"Mr. Oliver," Laura said, "I need your permission to bring the police in on this-"
"The police?" Mr. Oliver squeaked. "No, no, no, Miss Holt."
"But- Murphy's life is at stake!" she insisted. "He's down in a tunnel beneath this very building!"
"A tunnel?" Mr. Oliver said, looking at the floor under their feet.
"That's what we were trying to do when you arrived," Harry explained. "Attempting to open the trap door through which Mr. Michaels unconscious body was taken by the drug dealers last night."
Mr. Oliver rose unsteadily from the chair, almost unconsciously using his handkerchief to wipe the wooden arms before taking a step. When he nearly collapsed, Harry moved to support the man. "There you go, Mr. Oliver. Steady on."
Mr. Oliver smiled up at him. "Thank you. You do seem familiar."
"Believe me, Mr. Oliver, I don't think we frequent the same places," Harry assured him, guiding him toward the broken floorboard. "You see the metal beneath the wood?" He used the pry bar to tap on the iron door. It rang hollowly.
"Oh, my," Mr. Oliver sighed worriedly, twisting his handkerchief and leaning more heavily on Harry's arm. "A tunnel. Under my building."
"How old is this warehouse, Mr. Oliver?" Laura asked, hiding her smile as Harry tried to disengage his arm from her client's tight grip.
"It was built around 1920 or so, I believe. At least, the original structure was. It's been rebuilt a few times. Why?"
"The twenties. Prohibition. This place was probably used for whiskey smuggling. Do you have the plans for the warehouse by any chance?"
"Umm, I believe I do. There were several papers in a packet that I put aside after I bought the place last month. They're in my office - at home."
"Would you be willing to show them to us? If we can find where that tunnel starts, it might help us to find Murphy and stop the drug dealers that are using this place."
"Of course." He looked up at Harry. "You will be joining us, I hope, Mr. Steele?"
"Uh," Harry began, but Laura smiled widely and answered.
"Mr. *Steele* wouldn't dream of leaving me alone on the case now, would you?" she asked, enjoying his uneasiness around the interior decorator. Maybe this would teach him a lesson about going incognito. Especially as *her* Remington Steele.
"Of course, Miss Holt. Shall we be on our way?" he asked, smiling at her as if he knew full well what she was thinking.
Mr. Oliver refused to give up his hold on Harry's arm, and turned to Laura, "I still feel a bit light headed. Would you mind locking up behind us?"
Laura locked the door and hurried to join the two men, listening as Mr. Oliver tried to convince Harry to ride with him in the white BMW. "I'd like to, Mr. Oliver," Harry said, finally managing to free his arm from Mr. Oliver's grip as the other man got into his car, "But Miss Holt and I have some important matters to discuss. We'll follow you in my limo."
Mr. Oliver sighed with disappointment as Harry closed the door of the BMW. "Very well."
Once inside the limo, Harry told Fred, "Follow Mr. Oliver's car, Fred," as he sat back against the leather seat.
"Yes sir."
Harry flexed his left arm, opening and closing his hand. "I thought he was never going to let go of my arm," he commented, then noticed Laura's amused expression. "You were enjoying that a bit *too* much, I think."
"I thought you needed a lesson about not pretending to be someone else. Especially Remington Steele."
Harry grinned. "I thought it was appropriate, given the circumstances. Laura, if I had told Mr. Oliver who I *really* am, what do you think his reaction would have been?"
She thought back to the fawning socialites at the reception. "He probably would have been too busy fawning over your to listen to me," she admitted. "But he might not have recognized you as Harry Bryce-Davies," she pointed out.
"Ah, but what reason could you have given for my being there? To admit that you'd brought a non-professional in on the case would have caused you untold problems later."
"So now I'll get in trouble for passing of someone as a PI who *isn't* a PI," Laura mused. "Yes, I can see where that's *much* better," she nodded.
"*You* never said I was an PI. Neither did I, for that matter. I said I was an associate. The meaning of that word is quite varied. Colleague, subordinate, companion. I prefer the last of those in reference to our relationship."
"We don't *have* a relationship," Laura reminded him.
"A temporary condition, I'm sure," Harry told her with a devilish smile. "But the point is- Mr. *Oliver* simply assumed that I meant colleague. And I'm not doing anything without your close, direct, *personal* supervision," he said, moving closer to her, "I don't see any problem. Do you?"
Laura shook her head, but moved away. "We still have to save Murphy- Mr. Steele," she told him, then laughed. "If I'd ever thought anyone would actually *use* that name, I'd have come up with something else instead. What a name."
"I rather like it, believe it or not. Remington Steele. Has a kind of ring to it, don't you think?"
"I knew it was a mistake you tell you about that."
"Nonsense. It simply makes you human. Appealingly human," he told her, moving closer once again as the car braked to a stop. Harry looked out of the side window at the town home. "Apparently we're at our destination."
Laura patted his lapel. "Don't worry, Harry. I'll be with you every step of the way. Just remember that *I'm* the detective here, okay? Let me do the talking."
"I think I can handle strong and silent," Harry told her as Fred opened the door. Seeing Mr. Oliver's expectant smile, he sighed. "Once more into the breech," he muttered as he got out of the limo and winced as Mr. Oliver's hand once again closed over his already bruised arm.
***
The town house was tastefully decorated, but it was a bit too ornate for Laura's taste. The statuary was remarkable, however. All of it was of nude males figures in various poses, and while Laura appreciated the differing views, she doubted that Harry had the same appreciation for the male form.
The painting over the fireplace in the study was in a similar vein, and Laura thought she noted a decided blush in Harry's complexion as he glanced at it and then away.
"I see you've noticed my artwork," Mr. Oliver said. "I try to invest in local artists," he told them. "I find it's a wonderful investment. Don't you agree, Mr. Steele?"
"Oh, yes, indeed. Support of the - arts is a most worthy endeavor," Harry agreed, keeping his hands deep in his pockets- and staying as far away from Mr. Oliver's desk as possible, Laura noticed.
Mr. Oliver moved toward that desk and opened a drawer. "I know those plans were here somewhere," he said, finally pulling out a manila envelope. "Here we are." He pulled the plans from the envelope and opened them on to the desktop, turning on a light to illuminate the area. "I probably shouldn't admit this, but I'm hopeless at reading these things." He looked over to where Harry was standing by the window. "Could you- give me a hand, Mr. Steele?"
Harry stood there, frozen on the spot, and then began to pat his pockets, as if looking for something. "I seem to have misplaced my reading glasses," he told Mr. Oliver. "Can't see anything without them. Sorry. Perhaps- Miss Holt could oblige?" he suggested quickly.
Laura sent Harry a knowing look as she moved to join the disappointed decorator behind the desk to examine the plans. "I don't see anything about a tunnel," she told Harry. "I'm afraid it's a dead end."
"There must be something," Harry told her.
Laura's attention was caught by something else as Mr. Oliver moved away. "Why don't I go and make some coffee?" he said. "I won't be a moment."
The moment they were alone, Harry moved to join Laura at the desk and looked over the plans himself. "Nervous, - Mr. Steele?" Laura asked, grinning at his discomfiture.
"What's this?" he asked, ignoring her question, pointing to something on the plans. He bent over the desk to get a closer look. "It could be- yes, I think it's a representation of the trap door."
The door into the study opened again, and before Harry could move away, he found himself bracketed by Laura and her client, studying the plans. "You've found something?" Mr. Oliver asked.
Laura felt Harry move subtly closer to her. "Just an indication of the trapdoor leading to the tunnel," she explained.
Harry felt a hand on his lower back, moving ever so slowly southward, and glanced at the desktop to see that neither Laura nor Mr. Oliver's hands were in sight. His doubt that Laura would make so bold a move in front of a client was confirmed when she moved away- and the hand was still there. He froze again for the merest second, and then quickly slipped away from the desk and said, "Perhaps we could locate the city's plans for that entire area. It might tell us more than these," he suggested, going to take her arm, preparatory to leaving the room.
But Laura didn't budge. "Mr. Oliver, do you have anyone named Jerry or Larry that works for you at that warehouse?"
Mr. Oliver blinked. "They were keeping eye on the place for me. The day after I bought the building, they approached me about working as security- since they live in the area- I fired them both after the break-ins started and they kept telling me that nothing was going on. Why do you ask?"
"Because that was the names of the two men that went through the tunnel. Did they have keys?"
"No. Of course not. I gave them my telephone number, with instructions to call in case something happened. They never called. Are you insinuating that they are somehow involved in this?"
"Very likely. They've probably been using that warehouse for some time- and when you bought it, they just continued as before. You wouldn't by any chance have their addresses around here, would you?"
Mr. Oliver turned to a file cabinet that was hidden behind a sliding panel, and opened a drawer. "Here you go. If they're responsible, I expect you to stop them, Miss Holt."
"We will," she told him. "Ready to go, Mr. Steele?" she asked Harry.
"Quite," he said, ushering her from the room as quickly as possible, aware that Mr. Oliver was behind them, escorting them toward the door. As much as he could, Harry kept Laura between himself and the other man.
Fred opened the door of the limo as they exited the townhouse, and Harry thought they had made it, but Mr. Oliver called out. "It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Steele- I'm still certain that I've seen you somewhere before, though." Harry got into the limo behind Laura, and then hesitated as Mr. Oliver leaned toward the open window. "You *will* keep in touch, won't you?" he asked, his eyes on Harry.
"The moment we resolve the case, you'll be informed," Harry assured Oliver, deliberately misunderstanding him. "Let's go, Fred," he told the chauffer.
As soon as the car turned onto the street, Harry pulled Laura into his arms and gave her a long, deep kiss. Dazed, Laura looked up at him. "What was that all about?"
"Reassurance," Harry told her.
Laura smiled. "Believe me, I had no doubts at all."
"I didn't mean for you. I needed reassurance after-"
Her smile became a grin. "And did it work?"
"I think I need some more research," Harry told her, pulling her close again.
To Be Continued . . .