Family of Steele

Part Two

Laura looked up from the report on her desk as Remington entered the office, noticing the concern in his blue eyes. "Stop looking at me as if you think I'm going to something I shouldn't," she told him. "I've already said I shouldn't have overreacted the way I did last night, Remington."
"It's just that I know how thinking about your father upsets you-"
She smiled. "It's really ironic. You've finally made your peace with your father, now it's me who's still having that problem."
"Have you ever tried to find him? You ARE a private detective,-"
"I thought about it- once. But I decided that since he was the one who left, he didn't want to be found. Besides, if he wanted to contact me, he could. I'm not hard to find."
"No," he agreed, fidgeting with a paperweight on her desk. "Would you mind my having a go at it? I won't let it interfere with any cases we're working on- I'm just curious whether or not I can handle it as well as my teacher would."
Laura sat back, thoughtful. "The trail is fourteen years old," she pointed out. "Awfully cold by now."
"So I need a challenge. How about it?"
"It's slow around here at the moment- all right. Go ahead."
He gave her a quick kiss. "Thank you, my love."
He was halfway to the connecting door when she said, "'Don't mention it. And I mean that Remington. I don't want to hear about it. Not a word."
"I promise." He closed the door behind him and went to his desk. Where should he begin?
If Edward Holt had been in Germany, then he would have needed a passport. He smiled as an idea formed, and he picked up the telephone to dial a number. "Estelle Becker, please . . . Remington Steele."
She came on the line quickly. "Remington? Is something wrong?"
"No. I need to ask a favor, Estelle."
"Oh," the immigration investigator said, relieved. "I thought maybe Laura-"
"She's not due for another week," he said. "This does concern her. You know that her father disappeared fourteen years ago-?"
"She's mentioned it."
"I'm trying to trace him - and I need to find out if Edward Holt ever applied for a passport. You may have to back over thirty years-"
"No problem. I have a friend in passports who owes me a favor. I'll get back to you."
"Thank you."
Mildred knocked and entered. "I have the information on Andrew Radikin, Chief. Real nice man," she commented, giving him the papers. "Gambled away the family fortune, then decided to try and recoup everything by selling state secrets to the Russians. Thirty one years ago, he was exposed by an American agent. Radikin killed himself before he could be arrested."
"Anything on Edward?"
"Not yet."
"Run a cross check on his tax returns for the years before he left."
"Already doing that."

Jessica's clerk/secretary gave her a message from Nicky as soon as the lawyer returned from court. She dialed the number he'd left, only to be informed that he wasn't at the hotel. She gave the hotel the number of the agency, then took the elevator down.
Mildred greeted her warmly, until she said "I'm expecting a call from a Nicholas Radikin, Mildred. You'll let me know if-"
"Sure," Mildred said, glad that the computer began beeping to distract her. "Excuse me."
"Is anyone else in?"
"Mrs. Steele met Mrs. Morgan to go shopping and to lunch before going home for the rest of the day. Mr. Steele's in his office-"
"And- Antony?"
"He had some errands to run," Mildred told her, still looking at the monitor, which she was grateful that Jessica wasn't in a position to see.
"I'll go say hello to Remington, then."

He was sitting on the divan, papers strewn across the table before him. "Good morning, big brother," she said, smiling at his surprise.
Remington stood, trying to gather the papers. "Jessica. This is a surprise." An errant page slipped from his hands to the floor.
"Let me get that," she offered, bending down.
"No, that's-" he was too late. She picked up the paper and was about to hand it to him when a name caught her attention.
"Nicholas Radikin-" her eyes scanned the words quickly before she threw the page at him. "How DARE you!"
"Now, Jessica-" Remington began, trying to head off her anger.
"You're investigating NICKY! How could you? I know you're my brother, Remington, but really. Nicky? He's harmless. He's never been anything less than a gentleman and a friend to me."
"Jessica, if you'll let me explain-" the telephone rang, and a second later, Mildred buzzed the intercom. "Yes, Mildred?"
"Estelle Becker on line one, Mr. Steele."
"Thank you." His finger hovered over the button. "Give me a moment, Jessica-"
"I'm sorry, Remington. I can't," she said, going out of the office, obviously upset.
Remington pushed the button. "Steele here."
"I have SOME information on Edward Holt's passport, Remington."
"Bless you, Estelle. What have you got?"
"Edward Holt was issued a Class One government passport in 1955. He made numerous trips to points in Europe and the Far East. The last use was in January, 1973-"
Remington frowned. "A government passport?"
"They're issued to government agents, some diplomatic couriers-"
"Did he make a trip to Germany- seventeen years ago?"
"Let me see. Yes. He went there- I can't get anymore information on the trips themselves. I shouldn't have told you this."
"Why not?"
"The file has a red flag on it. That means it's considered sensitive material. Any further digging would send off alarms through the system unless I had the proper security clearance. And in this case, I think that clearance would have to be extremely high."
"Thank you, Estelle. I owe you one."
"Just let me know as soon as Laura has those babies."
"I promise. Good bye." Tony had come into the office. "Ah, Antony."
"Mildred said that Jess was here and that she was upset."
"She saw the report on Nicky. Tell me, do you have your passport with you?"
"It's in my office. Why?"
"Could you get it for me?"
"Sure." He returned a moment later a step behind Mildred.
"Here's the information on Edward Holt. As much as I could get, anyway."
"What do you mean?" Remington asked, studying the passport that Tony gave him.
"I kept running into red flags. Security alerts," she explained.
"On Laura's father?" Tony questioned. "Why would an insurance salesman rate a security block?"
"I have a better question. Why would an insurance salesman have a Class One government passport?" he asked, returning the item to Tony.
"Holt had one of these?"
"According to Estelle Becker, yes. She ran into those red flags as well."
Mildred's eyes were huge. "You don't think- could Edward Holt have been a spy, Chief?"
"It's beginning to look that way. An American agent exposed Andrew Radikin's treason, resulting in the man's death."
"And you think that Holt was that agent," Tony guessed.
"Buy why would Radikin be here, now?" Mildred wondered. "It's been thirty years-"
"He was only 15 when his father died, remember. By the time he was able to go after the man he held responsible for his father's death, he still had to locate and identify the man-"
"And get the backing," Tony added. "My source said that Radikin's been under close observation for several years as a possible enemy hit man. His 'business' connections in Eastern Europe are mostly with companies known to be fronts for the other side. So far, no one's been able to catch him in the act. He's very good at what he does."
"Obviously." Remington was thoughtful. "In your experience, Antony, if an agent's life were jeopardized by something he'd done, would his superiors attempt to help him? Or throw him to the wolves?"
"Depends on how important he was. How many skeletons he could rattle."
"How are we going to find out, Chief? All those red flags-"
"Tell me. What if someone were to attempt to get through that security barrier?" Remington wondered.
"Without the right clearance codes, it'd set off alarms in the home computer- they'd be able to trace the attempt back to the source."
"Then I think it's time that rattle a skeleton of our own," Remington told them.

Jessica was waiting at the hotel when Nicky returned. "Jessica. I didn't expect to see you here-"
"I thought we might have lunch," she told him. "Catch up on the last few months."
"Sounds like a wonderful idea. I would like to hear more about how you came to locate your brother and grandfather."
"Then you can go? No appointments or prior commitment?"
Nicky took her arm. "Not a one. And even if I did, surely you know that I would cancel them to spend time with you, my dear."

Mildred had started trying to break the security code on Edward Holt's tax records. Tony stood behind her, offering suggestions, but the monitor kept turning bright red, with the words "ACCESS DENIED, IMPROPER SECURITY CODE" across it.
After countless attempts, the screen went to blue. "ANY FURTHER ATTEMPT WITHOUT PROPER CODE WILL RESULT IN FEDERAL CHARGES"
Mildred and Tony looked at Remington, wanting it to be his call. "One more try, Mildred."
"You're sure, Chief?"
"Do it."
She typed in a code- and the screen went dark, as if the plug had been pulled at another location. "What now?" Tony wondered.
"We wait," Remington told him, leading them into his office.

When there had been no appearance of any government agents by five o'clock, Remington took his leave, formulating a new plan to pursue the next day. Mildred went home to meet her bowling team, and Tony drove to Jessica's loft, intending to tell her what they had found out about her friend Nicky- even if he had to hold her down to make her listen.
But when Nicholas Radikin himself opened Jessica's door, Tony frowned. "Mr.- Roselli, isn't it?" Nicky said, smiling.
"Who's there, Nicky?" Jessica asked, coming from the kitchen. "Antony. Come in-"
Tony hesitated on the threshold. "I don't want to intrude. I thought we might have dinner. But I can see you're busy, so I'll just go." He turned and was down the stairs before Jessica could speak. She started to follow him, but Nicky took her arm.
"Don't, Jessica."
"You don't understand, Nicky."
"Then- explain it to me."
"Antony's- a --Well, he's a friend."
Nicky's eyes searched her face. "Only a friend?"
Unable to face that probing gaze, Jessica turned away to pace across the room. "Yes. No. It's all a bit confusing. We're more than friends, but not- oh, we go out, argue-"
"He's not your type, Jessica," Nicky said, watching her closely.
"He's not the type of man I ever expected to be attracted to, certainly. But, perhaps, he's what I need. Someone so much my opposite. Do you know that I went to an American baseball game with him last month and actually enjoyed myself?"
Nicky shook his head, taking her hand. "You deserve to be taken to the ballet or the opera every night, Jessica. You were meant to be a princess."
Jessica's smile was sad. "It's rather lonely in an ivory tower, Nicky. Mother discovered the truth in that." She sniffed at the air. "Oh! My dinner!"

Remington reheated one of the casseroles that Mrs. Hobbs had prepared and frozen before going to spend a week with her only sister in Florida. "I'd best go now," she'd said. "Won't be much time once the little ones arrive."
Laura finished the meal and pushed her plate away, trying to hide a yawn. "Excuse me."
"Why don't you go on up to bed?" Remington suggested gently. "I'll be along once I've taken care of the dishes."
"I think I'll do that. Oh. The Mitchelson contract is on your desk in the study, waiting for your signature. He's due at the office at nine tomorrow-"
"I'll take a look at it before I come upstairs," he promised, giving her a brief kiss.

He was on his way through the front hall headed toward the study when someone knocked. Answering, he found Tony on the porch. "Antony. Come in. I thought you were going to spend the evening with Jessica."
"She already had company," Tony said angrily.
"Radikin?" Remington asked.
"Yeah. I need a drink."
Remington was about to suggest they go to the study when the sound of a car's engine broke the silence, and he went to the door. Two dark suited men emerged from the black Ford and approached the house.
"Remington Steele?"
"Yes?" Remington knew that his earlier gamble had paid off. "May I help you, gentlemen?"
As they neared the house, they showed him leather wallets containing government identification and a badge. "Special agents Larsen and Harris, Mr. Steele. We'd like to speak to you about a possible breach of security -"
Remington smiled. "Please come in, gentlemen. I expected you earlier," he was saying as he closed the door. He nodded toward Tony. "This is-"
"Tony Roselli," Agent Larson said, smiling. "How are you doing these days, Tony? I heard you've gone private."
"Yeah, well, didn't have much choice, did I?"
Remington looked from one to the other. "I take it you two know each other?"
"We worked together a few times," Tony told him. "Isn't this duty a come down for you, Mitch?"
The elder of the two men, Larsen, grinned. "Well, there aren't a lot of us left who worked with Edward Holt."
Remington glanced up the stairs, recalling that Laura wasn't far away. "Shall we continue this in my study, gentlemen? I'd rather my wife not be disturbed."
Larson nodded. "Understandable, Mr. Steele."

Remington didn't bother closing the door. He felt they were far enough away from the stairs that Laura couldn't overhear their conversation. Once they were in the room, he turned to Mitch Larsen. "Now, Mr. Larsen. You mentioned working with Edward Holt?"
"On my first assignment, as a matter of fact. He went underground right after."
"Underground? Why?" Tony asked.
"To protect his family," Harris said.

Upstairs, Laura looked at the clock and wondered why Remington was still downstairs. She went to the windows, and saw that the light in the study was on. He was probably reading that contract, she decided, and made up her mind to go back downstairs to convince him to come up to bed. She was near the doorway when she heard voices. Remington wasn't alone.

"Edward Holt was first recruits as a part time agent for the United States government in the early fifties. He continued on a limited basis for two years after that. He was then brought on as a full time agent."
"What about his job with the insurance company?" Remington asked.
"A cover," Tony guessed. "Like my being an archeologist or with immigration."
"Exactly. The insurance company which 'employed' Edward was a government held business. He was emphatic that his wife not know the truth about what he did for a living."
"It was Edward Holt who exposed Andrew Radikin, wasn't it?" Remington wondered.
"The British government suspected that a member of the peerage was selling information, and had narrowed it down to three men. All three would have been suspicious of a British agent. So they asked for an American agent. Edward was good. He went in and got the proof they wanted in three days. But Radikin's suicide rattled him. He was concerned about the man's son. His own wife was expecting their second child and he started to think about what might happen to his family if he weren't around. He tried to resign, but instead was convinced to just take some time off. For the next few years, he was, too all appearances, an ordinary insurance salesman. Then, in 1960, they recruited him again. Apparently Edward and his wife weren't getting along, so he agreed to go back to the field. He remained an agent for thirteen years, until a chance meeting with Nicholas Radikin sent him back home. The Agency started receiving word that Edward's family could be in danger as well as he himself. If it had only been him, he probably would have forced Radikin's hand. But he didn't want to expose them to anymore danger. So he set up a special account to insure that his family would never want for money, then disappeared."
"Into protective custody?" Remington asked.
"No. We offered, even kept an eye on his wife and daughters-"
"Did he continue as an agent?"
"He refused to. He's technically out in the cold, Mr. Steele, but he can come back in anytime he wants. He has several passports, has spent time in various countries, under various names -"
Remington stared thoughtfully at the garden outside. "Am I correct in assuming that Nicholas Radikin's visit here is not a coincidence?"
"You are. We got word a few days ago that Edward wants to see his daughter Laura. Radikin's been chasing Edward for years - always one step behind him. Legally, the man's clean. We've no reason to pick him up. When Edward made his plans to return to Los Angeles, we think that Radikin checked and found out about your wife, and came here."
"To wait for Edward Holt to arrive."
"Precisely. Radikin's working alone- the Soviets haven't any axes to grind as far as Edward's concerned. If Radikin can be taken care of, then Edward could stop running."
Larsen glanced past Remington to the door and went still. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Remington knew before he turned that Laura was there. "Laura." He went to her. "Are you all right?"
She didn't answer him. Instead she looked at Larsen. "Are you telling the truth about my father?"
"Yes, Mrs. Steele," Mitch Larsen confirmed, watching the woman carefully. "Your father was a government agent."
"And he's on his way here?" she asked.
"That was the last word that we got." He watched as she sat down in a chair, her husband hovering over her. "The problem is that we can't get word to him that he's in danger."
"From Jessica's friend Nicky," Laura said thoughtfully. "There must be SOME way-"
Harris glanced at Larsen. "There MIGHT be a way, but it could be risky-"
"For who, Mr. Harris?" Remington asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
"For Mrs. Steele."
"NO," Remington said at the same moment as Laura spoke.
"What would I have to do?"
"Come on, Laura," Tony objected. "You can't consider doing this-"
"Why not?"
Remington knelt beside her. "Aren't you forgetting something-?"
"Of course not." Her brown eyes met his, filled with pain and anger - and regret. "I HAVE to do this, Remington. All these years, I thought he left because he didn't want to be with us- with me anymore. Now I realize that he was only trying to protect us. I might not agree with his method, but I can understand. Surely you can as well."
He touched her face. "I do. Perhaps even more deeply than you. But I can't allow you to risk-"
"The only risk, Mr. Steele, will be if Radikin discovers that we've tricked him. And the probability of that-"
"Don't' talk to me about probability, Mr. Harris. We're talking about Laura's life."
Laura placed her hand over his in an attempt to calm him, then looked up at the agent. "What is your plan, Mr. Harris?"