"The armoured car
is here," Mr. Burton told everyone, wiping his brow with
a damp handkerchief as Remington visually made certain that the
security guards were at their proper stations in the alleyway
behind the building. He kept Laura at his side with a firm hand
as the armed guards opened the doors on the van, allowing the
insurance company's courier to exit the vehicle.
Fastened to his left wrist with a handcuff was a metal suitcase.
Burton came forward. "I'm Mr. Burton."
"Tom Dawson," the courier said shortly, then nodded
at Remington and his companion.
"Remington Steele. And my associate, Laura Holt."
Dawson's nod was still tense. "Let's go inside, shall we?"
"Of course, of course," Burton said, ushering the courier
into the museum through the rear doorway and directly into the
gem room. As Remington had ordered, the security guards formed
a human gate across the entrance to the room as Dawson gently
laid the case onto a table.
"Do you have the key?" he asked Burton, lifting his
shackled arm. "I can't say I'll be sorry to be rid of this.
Carrying around this much in rare gems is a recipe for a heart
attack or ulcer."
Burton fumbled in his pockets before coming up with the key. "Here
it is. Arrived by another courier yesterday." He tried to
place the key into the lock, but his hands were shaking badly.
So Remington gingerly took it from him.
"Allow me." He unfastened the cuff, allowing Dawson
to rub his left wrist. "How long have you been carrying this
thing?"
"Nearly twenty four hours," he said.
Remington examined the combination locks on the top of the case,
then the seal. "It appears to be intact." He smiled
at Burton. "Do you have the combination?"
"It's in my office safe. I'll go get it."
"It must be a very dangerous job," Remington heard Tracy
say to Dawson, "transporting gems like that. Have you ever
been robbed?"
"Not once," he said proudly. "You usually only
get robbed once, though. And then don't live to tell about it.
Knew an old guy in South Africa once. Got his self killed over
some of the gems I have in there. Nasty business."
Mr. Burton returned with a slip of paper. "This is the right
combination, and this is the left. Or is it the other way around?
Oh, dear."
"It shouldn't matter," Tracy said.
"But it does," Remington pointed out, indicating the
locks that he'd been examining closely. "There appears to
be some kind of interlock system. If they're not done in the proper
sequence-"
"The person trying to open the case gets a nasty shock,"
Dawson finished, looking at Remington with amazement. "You
must have sharp eyes to have noticed that, Mr. Steele. Most people
wouldn't."
Remington smiled tightly. "Used something similar on another
case," he explained. He studied the combination, then began
turning the tumblers, alternating between left and right, until,
with a soft "click!" both locks popped open.
Burton mopped his brow again as Remington lifted the lid to several
smaller boxes- all sealed but not locked. He held the largest
box for Burton to cut the wire, then opened it. Blue stones on
a white bed of satin. He glanced up, wondering why these particular
stones kept crossing his and Laura's path. "Lovely,"
he heard her sigh as a telephone rang somewhere.
A moment later, one of the museum employees entered the room.
"Mr. Steele? It's for you."
Remington handed the box over to Mr. Burton. "I'm sure you
can handle this from here. I won't be a moment. Probably Miss
Krebs with information about your secretary." Glancing at
Tracy, he said, "Miss Holt-"
"Don't worry, Mr. Steele," she assured him with a wide
smile. "I'll look after things in here."
He couldn't argue with her about it, so he went into the lobby
and took the telephone nearest the doorway, where he could watch
the room beyond. "Steele here."
"Chief. You're not gonna believe-"
"Did you find Miss Stewart, Mildred?"
"Yes. The doctors say she's lucky to be alive."
"Doctors?" he asked, frowning at the telephone. "Where
are you, Mildred?"
"The hospital. After Miss Stewart's landlady and I found
her- we really thought she was dead, Mr. Steele. There was barely
any pulse or heartbeat. The doctor said that if we hadn't found
her and gotten her to help, she might have died."
"MIGHT have?"
"He said he'd have to trace the cause before he'd know more.
They're doing all the blood tests now."
"Is she conscious?"
"No. But her landlady said that she had a date last night
with an older man. Thinning white hair, tall, thin. She didn't
see his face."
"Keep an eye on Miss Stewart. As soon as she wakes up, see
what she can tell you. And when you find out what happened, I
want you to go back to the office, try to narrow the list of suspects
using that m.o." He watched as Tracy took one of the gems
from Mr. Burton and held it up to the light, then weighed it in
her hand.
"Sure, Chief. What are you going to be doing?"
"Averting disaster, Mildred," he told her. "Have
to go. Call me later." He hung up and pushed back through
the guards in the doorway, deftly plucking the gem from Tracy's
hand and laying it inside its glass case before closing the cover
and securing the electronic locking mechanism. Pulling his handkerchief
from his pocket, he held it out. "You might need this. You're
practically salivating."
Tracy merely shrugged off his pointed comment as Mr. Burton closed
the last case. "Okay, that's it." He turned a key in
the security board, setting the system on standby. "Would
you watch this for me, Miss Holt?" he asked, handing her
the key before Remington could intervene. "I seem to be a
bit scattered today." He took a deep breath. "We're
ready. Angie!" he called to the young woman who had called
Remington to the telephone.
"Yes, sir?"
"Open the front doors. The gem exhibit is open to the public."
Remington pulled Tracy aside. "Okay, give me the key."
"Ah, but Mr. Burton gave it to your associate to hold for
safekeeping," she pointed out. "And since- the moment,
at any rate- *I* am your associate-"
Burton came across to them, his eyes on the crowd of people who
were piling into the gem room. "Did Miss Krebs find Miss
Stewart?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact, she did. Apparently your secretary
is quite ill. It's possible that she was drugged."
"Drugged?" Burton questioned.
"You haven't noticed her with anyone these last few days,
have you? Heard her talking on the telephone, perhaps?"
"No. I've been so busy with this- You're thinking that someone's
after the gems, aren't you?" he said apprehensively. "There
could be a jewel thief in here at this very moment, planning how
to steal those gems."
"More than one, I should think," Tracy commented as
she looked around the room.
Seeing that her words only increased Burton's agitation, Remington
hastened to say, "What Miss Holt means is that a- show of
this- magnitude is BOUND to attract a great deal of- attention."
"I'm so relieved that the two of you are here," Burton
said. "No jewel thief would even TRY to steal those gems
under the watchful eyes of Remington Steele and his associate."
Remington tried to smile as he moved away, looking at the people
who were inspecting the gems. Nothing there. But there was one
man out of place. He wasn't in the gem room, but instead was concentrating
on the paintings in the gallery, inspecting a watercolor by an
artist that Remington had never liked. Tracy moving away caught
his attention. "Hold it," he said, grabbing her wrist.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"You heard Mr. Burton, Mr. Steele," Tracy said softly,
freeing her wrist easily. "He wants us to keep an eye on
the gems. So I suggest that we split up and work the room."
She moved toward a crowd of people gathered around the case containing
the Lavulite, and Remington turned back to get a closer look at
the man in the gallery- but he was gone.
Remington sighed. He was NOT enjoying himself.
At six p.m., Mr. Burton locked the front doors and dimmed the
lobby lights as Remington gave the guards their instructions.
"Regular patrols. In pairs. Every fifteen minutes."
Burton asked "Miss Holt" for the key to the security
box, and she smiled sweetly at Remington as she handed it over
to him. Burton turned the key. "Now, if anyone touches those
cases, the alarm will sound."
"And the guards will come running," Remington added.
"The gems should be quite safe tonight."
"I'll almost be glad when they're gone tomorrow night,"
Burton confided. "I had no idea it was going to be so nerve
wrecking. I'm going home and have a glass of wine, then I'm going
to bed."
"You're not going to go visit Miss Stewart?" Tracy asked.
"Oh, oh, of course. I'll drop by, I suppose. Thank you both
again for being here. We'll see you again tomorrow?"
"Ah-of course," Remington said, finding himself wishing
that someone WOULD steal the damn gems and get him out of having
to spend another day playing this game. "Bright and early."
The three of them shook hands, and then Burton let them out of
the museum.
On the sidewalk, Tracy smiled. "Well, goodnight, Mr. Steele."
"Don't think so," he said, and she frowned as he grabbed
her arm and pulled her beside him down the street to the white
Rabbit. Using his set of keys for the car, he unlocked the passenger
door. "Get in." Tracy gave him an uncertain look, but
she got into the car. He closed the door and went around to the
driver's seat, putting the keys into the ignition.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Back to-to Laura's loft." He'd barely caught himself
from saying "back to your place."
"Why? Want to make sure I didn't steal anything?"
"Actually," Remington said grimly, "the idea never
crossed my mind." Putting the car into gear, he glanced at
her. "But you never answered my question. How did you get
the car?"
Tracy shrugged. "Your Miss Holt's a bit sloppy about personal
security. Left a spare set of keys, all nicely labeled, just laying
about."
Remington held out his hand. "Hand them over." This
time, he wasn't going to back down. Tracy sighed, pulled the keys
out of her purse and dropped them into his hand.
"I thought you had to meet with your Miss Krebs?"
"She'll meet us at the loft once she finishes her research."