On the flight to London, Steele flips through a magazine as Laura listens to music on headphones and does a crossword puzzle. Finally he tosses the magazine aside. "Laura." She doesn't respond. So he unfastens the headset from the control panel, causing her to jump.
She removes the headset and looks at him. "What is it?"
"You haven't said more than two words since we left Los Angeles. Don't you think it's time to break the sound barrier?"
She looks away, uncomfortable. "Guess I'm just caught up in my crossword puzzle. You wouldn't happen to know a four letter word for rat, would you?"
He doesn't smile as he answers. "Tony?" He finally smiles. "Sorry. First thing that came into my mind."
"Nice try, but it won't change the subject," she tells him.
"That bimbo in our honeymoon bed." She reaches down to reconnect the headset, but Steele grabs her hand and holds it in his.
"I admit the situation may appear incriminating-"
"Try nauseating," she corrects angrily.
"Laura, I can assure you that whatever happened between Shannon and me was over a long time ago. I never want to see her again."
"Did you happen to tell *her* that?"
"Repeatedly. Short of physical violence, what else could I do?" he asks.
"Well," Laura sighs. "She certainly picked the wrong time to show up."
"Which brings us back to a four letter word for 'rat'," Steele notes.
"Nothing happened between Tony and me on the beach," she says, looking him in the eye. "Because I didn't want anything to."
Steele looks almost grateful for her words. He chuckles softly. "Something always seems to get in our way, doesn't it? At the rate we're going, we'll be celebrating our silver wedding anniversary by the time we consummate this relationship."
She smiles as well. "Business before pleasure," she points out.
"That's certainly been our motto," he agrees.
"Compared to what we went through in Mexico, returning a stolen painting should be a- " she snaps her fingers, "piece of cake."
"Which means we may be able to dispatch this case rather quickly."
Laura picks up her glass of wine and holds it up. "To a honeymoon in London."
Steele taps his glass to hers, and they lean in for a kiss.
At a London airport terminal, we see Remington, wearing his brown trench coat, waiting to claim their suitcases from a revolving luggage carousel. An older man wearing a black bowler and wearing a light colored trenchcoat sees Remington and then looks inside his newspaper. We see that he's looked at a black and white photo of Remington which was taken during his first year at the Agency.
Convinced he's identified his quarry, the bowler walks towards Remington, who is now carrying 2 pieces of luggage. But then Laura, wearing a dark trench coat, approaches them and the bowler walks away.
"I just talked to Mildred," she tells him as he sets down one of the bags. Breaking into a wide grin, she adds, "She got us into the St. John Hotel, in the honeymoon suite."
"Hmm," he responds, returning her smile. "In that case, let's not waste any time. You look for Lindstrom at the Thames Gardens Hotel, I'll check the local art scene."
"If we're lucky, we may have this wrapped up by the end of the day."
"Hm, let's try for noon," Remington
suggests, picking up the bags again as they head off.
In London, an old taxi delivers Laura to the Thames Gardens Hotel. "Excuse me," she tells the desk clerk. "I'm looking for a friend of mine who's staying at the hotel? Eric Lindstrom?"
The clerk checks his records. "No, there's no Lindstrom registered." He smiles at her. "Terribly sorry."
Laura frowns, ignoring the attempts of the man behind her to get her to move along. "There must be some mistake. He should be in the Presidential Suite?"
The clerk gives her a frustrated look. "Yes, well, I'm quite certain that the guest in the Presidential Suite is not your friend," he informs her in a haughty manner.
"Eric is a famous novelist, you know," Laura tells him. "Perhaps he's using his pen name."
"Sheik Abu Hassan?" the clerk asks.
Laura looks stunned. "Then again, perhaps not," she says. "Thank you."
At a pub called The Red House, Steele is with another man, getting some ale. "You come 'ighly recommended," the man says, revealing a local accent. They move toward a table.
Using a rougher accent than usual, Steele tells him, "Yeah, well, it pays to have friends in low places, doesn't it?"
Unknown to Steele, he's being watching by the thin faced man wearing a trench coat and bowler hat from the airport.
Steele puts a cigarette into his mouth as they sit down. "Speaking of paying, 'ow much are we talking about?"
"Five zeros. That's my finder's fee."
"This painting got a name?" Steele pulls the photo out of his pocket and slides it across the table. "Boy With Flute."
"Know were the lad's hiding?" Steele asks.
"Oh, that I do."
Steele puts the photo back into his pocket. "Can you get it?"
"It all depends."
"OH?" Steele asks, puffing on the cigarette.
"On whether the Russians would allow it."
Steele's surprise is obvious, and he nearly chokes on the smoke. "The- Russians?"
"That paintin's been 'anging in the Moscow Museum for the past three 'undred years, mate."
"Three- *hundred* years?"
The man stands up, angry. "Bloody copper. Tryin' t'set me up with fencin' a stolen painting, eh?" Steele stands, nervous as they other patrons turn to watch.
"Slight misunderstanding," Steele tries to say. "No hard feelings-" he notices several other men coming up behind him. "Honest mistake-" The first man hits him, sending him into the other two. They hit him a few times, but Steele gets the better of the three of them, then stands there, smiling at his handiwork- until the first man sees him.
"Get him!" he yells, and Steele takes off.
The man in the bowler hat watches Steele leave.
Steele runs down an alley as the men give chase. They've almost caught him when a car pulls up, the passenger door opens, and the driver yells, "Get in!"
Steele grabs the door, leaps onto the car and pushes the men away with his foot. He gets into the car, breathing heavily. "Thanks, mate," he says to the driver, "I owe you one."
"Remington Steele?" the man asks, his accent decidedly American.
"I don't suppose that was a lucky guess?" Steele asks hopefully.
"Sorry, pal," the driver tells him, handing him his identification. "Not out of the woods yet."
His name is Rigby, and he's with the US Immigration and Naturalization Service.
At the American Embassy, Rigby escorts Steele down a hallway. "Mind telling me what this is all about?" Steele questions.
Rigby doesn't answer, just points to a door marked "Conference Room". Steele opens the door. Inside, Rigby says, "Mr. Steele- Mr. Roselli."
Tony is seated at the end of a long table. "Sorry," Steele tells Rigby. "I didn't quite catch the name."
"Anthony Roselli," Tony says.
Steele puts a hand in his pocket. "I bet your friends call you Tony."
"Mr. Roselli is from US Immigration," Rigby tells Steele.
"Immigration? Really? He looks more like an archeologist to me," Steele notes, his eyes on Tony.
"You're married to an American citizen, Mr. Steele?" Tony asks.
"Yes," Steele confirms. "We just returned from our honeymoon in Mexico. You should have been there."
"And your wedding was performed on a fishing trawler?"
"The QEII was booked."
"According to the ship's manifest, the man who married you cleans fish for a living," Tony says, consulting a file on the desk before him.
"Yes," Steele says, "he's very good at it too."
"But he wasn't the captain."
"But he was vested with all the rights and privileges of acting captain at the time," Steele points out, moving toward Tony.
"You seem to have a marriage license, yet there's no record of your applying for one."
Steele sits down in one of the chairs. "Well, it was obviously misplaced by an incompetent, deceitful bureaucrat," he says, glaring at Tony accusingly. "I'm sure you're familiar with the kind."
"Your blood tests were certified by a doctor who apparently retired to Florida- four years ago?"
"He just popped in for the day," Steele says.
"You seem to have an answer for everything," Tony says.
"I have nothing to hide," Steele insists, relaxing in the chair.
Tony looks over a paper. "Let's see if you have an answer for this statement signed by-uh-" he hesitates, narrowing his eyes. "I can't quite make out this signature." He stands and carries it to Steele. "Perhaps you can."
Steele takes it, and reads it. "Shannon Wayne," he says, handing it back to a gloating Tony.
"It's a shame it isn't in hieroglyphics, but perhaps you can decipher its full meaning anyway." He returns to his chair and sits down. "Well, that about covers it. You're free to go. Thank you for your time. Oh, congratulations on your marriage," he adds, smiling pleasantly.
Steele watches him warily, confused and uncertain about what's going on.
"Show Mr. Steele out, please?" Tony asks Rigby.
Tony watches Steele leave.
Laura arrives at the St. Johns Hotel and goes to the front desk. "We'll have the porter take up your luggage, Mrs. Steele," the clerk tells her.
"Has Mr. Steele checked in yet?" Laura asks her.
"No," the clerk says. "But- the gentleman in the bowler has been persistently inquiring after him."
"Thank you," Laura says with a smile, then turns and approaches the man from the pub, who's reading a newspaper as he leans against a post. "Excuse me. I understand you're looking for Remington Steele? I'm Mrs. Steele," she tells him with a smile.
The man looks askance at her as he says, "Madame, I don't know what kind of scheme you're involved in, but it won't work with me."
"What are you talking about?"
"You're an impostor. I have no business with you. Good day." He starts to leave, but Laura won't let him.
"Wait a minute. I am Mrs. Remington Steele," she insists.
"Madame, if you continue with this charade, I shall be forced to call the management and have you removed."
"Fine," Laura says, tossing her coat to the floor. "Go ahead," she continues, unbuttoning her shirt. "Call them."
"Good Lord, woman, what do you think you're doing?" he asks, horrified.
"Getting ready to scream rape," she informs him, and pulls her shirt from her skirt.
"You wouldn't dare."
"Just watch me."
"All right, all right," he says quickly, looking away.
Laura leads him aside. He holds up a business card. "Broderick Smithers. Solicitor with Bumbridge, Cleasthorpe and Cogswaite."
Laura tucks the card into his vest. "Congratulations. Now what do you want with my husband?" she asks.
"Oh, I'm here to inform him that he's just inherited one million pounds."
Laura's eyes widen in shocked surprise.
Tony is at an archery range, shooting arrows at a target. "Nice shot," Steele comments, coming up to him. "Archeologist. Immigration official. Who are you now? Robin Hood?" He picks up an arrow.
"Grab a bow," Tony invites.
Steele places the point of the arrow against Tony's chest. "Enough games, Roselli. You've been bird-dogging me ever since Mexico trying to find out about my marriage."
"I didn't turn you in, did I?" Tony reminds him.
"That's what worries me," Steele says. "What the catch?" He lowers the arrow and takes the bow Tony hands him. "Why didn't you throw me to the wolves?"
"I need you," Tony admits as Steele sets the arrow into the bow.
"Ah, I see. Blackmail, eh?" He pulls back the bowstring and lets it fly, striking the target easily.
"Nice shot," Tony comments. "I want you to deliver a package for me," he tells Steele, readying his own bow.
"Wouldn't a messenger service have been cheaper?" Steele asks.
"Too delicate for that."
"Why? What's in the package?"
"First, I need to know you're in."
"And if I'm not?"
"Hope you like England," Tony tells him, raising his bow. "Once America deports someone, that's it." He releases his arrow.
"Why me?" Steele asks, readying his next shot.
"You're an internationally famous detective, you've got a great rep, and you're here on a case."
"Which you conveniently contrived," Steele notes.
"Well, if I'd asked you straight out, what would you have said?"
"What do you think?" Steele asks, shooting again.
"I think you get my point."
"How can I be certain you're not going to try to recruit me after all this?"
"You pull it off, I'll give you Shannon Wayne's statement, and you won't have anymore problems with Immigration."
"What about Laura?" Steele asks as Tony lifts his bow.
"What about Laura?" Tony replies, shooting. His arrow hits the center of the target.
"Well, what good does it do me to have Immigration off my tail if you're still after hers?" Steele wants to know, glancing at him.
Sighting in the shot, Steele asks, "Is it a deal?"
"Deal," Tony agrees.
Steele lets the arrow fly, and it splits Tony's last shot down the middle. "Antony, old chap, I seem to have split your shaft." He hands the bow to Tony, and then brings a bruised knuckle to his lips before leaving Tony standing there.
Laura enters the suite she and Steele have reserved. She's humming to herself, and then hears the water running in the bathroom. Dropping her hat and purse onto the sofa, she heads in that direction. "Need someone to scrub your back?" she asks as she opens the door- then freezes as she finds that it's not Steele at all- but Shannon, reclining in the round tub that's filled with bubbles.
"And I thought you didn't like me," Shannon says.
"What are you doing here?" Laura demands to know, pushing Shannon's feet from the other side of the tub before turning the water off.
"You know, you really should give up, Lulu. Dougie and I are star-crossed lovers. Have been since Hong Kong. We simply can't keep from fondling each other," she confesses with a smile.
"Are you sure it's not his inheritance you'd rather fondle?" Laura asks her.
"Inheritance? What inheritance?"
"There's a solicitor in the lobby who told me a tall, dark haired woman claiming to be Mrs. Steele was in his office last week."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Shannon says.
"Why don't I invite him up," Laura says, moving toward the telephone, "so he can refresh your memory-"
"Wait. I vaguely remember something about an inheritance," Shannon sudden recalls.
"I thought you might," Laura says, hanging up.
"I also remember something Dougie told me about a-a sham marriage to keep him from being deported."
Laura sneers at her and sits down on the edge of the tub. "What's it going to take to get you out of my life- once and for all?" she asks seriously.
"Fifty-thousand pounds," Shannon responds coolly.
Laura's shocked, and stands up. "You want me to buy you out?"
"Well, actually, I need to money to buy some rather revealing photographs of myself-"
"Who has them?" Laura asks.
"Frederick Edward Sedgwick. Duke of Wallingford."
"You're being blackmailed by a Duke?"
"A bankrupt Duke."
Laura leans closer. "If I help you get those pictures, will you take your show on the road permanently?"
"Well, if you're sure you won't miss me too much," Shannon tells her.
Laura grabs a towel and tosses it at a smiling Shannon. "Dry off." Shannon slides beneath the bubbles.
On a double-decker bus, Tony sits behind a white haired man who's reading a newspaper. "Steele agreed," he tells the man, who doesn't look at him.
"If this doesn't work, I doubt that you'll have a friend left in the department," the older man warns.
"I'll risk it."
"That's your problem, Tony. You're always willing to risk it."
"Hey. I'm the guy who lost three good agents," Tony reminds him. "I'm the guy who was banished to South America. I'm the one who took the rap for it-"
"Lower your voice," the other man warns.
"Nobody believed me when I said there was a mole in British Intelligence."
"I'm giving you the opportunity to prove that you were right," the older man says.
Tony sits back. "Better late than never, huh? When do I get the documents?"
"All in good time."
"No," he says as the bus comes to a stop. "Now."
"The difference between you and me, Tony, is that you break the rules. *I* make them." He stands up and leaves an angry Tony sitting there.
Steele arrives at the hotel in a taxi. "How much?" he asks the driver. As he's paying, he sees Laura and Shannon getting into another cab up the line. He turns to the couple about to get into the cab he just left and stops them. "Sorry, cab supervisor. This one's due for inspection." He gets into the back again and the driver takes off.
Laura and Shannon purchase tickets for a tour of Wallingford Castle. The tour guide greets them and the others in the tour. "Welcome to Wallingford Castle. If you'll follow me. Wallingford Castle is one of the oldest and most historic castles in England," he tells them.
Inside, he leads them into a room. "Here is the formal dining room. Over the fireplace is a sixteen century Flemish carving depicting the coronation of the Virgin."
As he speaks, Laura and Shannon move toward a doorway marked "Private."
"It has always been in the family," the guide finishes. "Now, if you'll follow me into the drawing room--" He leads the rest of the tour away.
"Where are the Duke's quarters?" Laura whispers to Shannon.
"Over here," Shannon tells her, pointing at the nearby door. Once no attention is on them, Shannon opens the door and leads Laura inside.
Remington walks up to the ticket box and purchases a ticket for the castle tour. He immeadiately walks toward the path leading to the front of the castle, but is stopped by a guard who appears from nowhere, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Next tour leaves in 15 minutes, Sir," he informs Remington in a no-nonsense tone.
"Right...right," Remington says quietly as he steps back several steps to where the other tourists are waiting.
A security guard comes downstairs in the private area, and Shannon and Laura watch from behind a doorway until he's gone. Shannon leads Laura through the rooms to another door. She pauses, listens, and opens it.
Once inside, Shannon gasps in horror at the sight of a man laying on the floor before the fireplace. "The Greek!" Shannon tells Laura, who frowns as she looks at the old man.
Shannon goes over to him, and Laura follows. "He doesn't look Greek to me," Laura says.
"He's not the Greek," Shannon insists, sounding hysterical. "He's the Duke!"
"The Duke's not Greek?"
"No, the Greek's not the Duke!" Shannon says.
Laura grabs her shoulders and shakes her. "Get hold of yourself. You're babbling. IF he's the Duke, who's the Greek?"
"Nicholas Theodopolis," Shannon tells her. "He's a racketeer who obviously doesn't have a sense of humor."
"Why would he kill the Duke?" Laura asks.
"For the gems," Shannon says, as though that explains it all.
"Well, you see, the Duke and I had a little business arrangement- he'd get me into all the exclusive parties in town, and I'd-"
"Well, I'd relieve the hosts of all their valuables. Discreetly, of course."
"And the Greek was one of the more recent victims," Laura guesses. "Of course."
"And now the Greek has the photographs. He'll be after me!"
"How would a revealing photograph point an arrow at you?"
"Because it's a picture of me wearing the earrings I took from the Greek's safe!" Shannon informs her. "The Duke kept it as a hold over me!"
"Then give back the gems," Laura tells her.
"I don't have them anymore."
"Where are they?" Laura asks.
Shannon shrugs. "Well, a girl needs pin money."
Laura closes her eyes for a moment. "Let me get this straight. You conned me into helping you steal some evidence which directly incriminates you in a jewel theft ring?"
"Just a little white lie," Shannon says.
"You call this a little white lie?" Laura asks, pointing at the Duke's body.
"Shh!" Shannon says, listening as they hear noises outside the study door. "Someone's coming!"
In the dining room, a female tour guide is leading another group of tourists, giving the same spiel about the carving. Steele is in this group. He takes a deep breath and releases it as he wonders where Laura and Shannon might have got off to.
Laura and Shannon are just finishing putting the Duke's body into a suit of armor when the door opens and the security guard is standing there. "'Ere now, whot's this?" he asks. "You ladies shouldn' be in 'ere. These t'Duke's private parts. Out y'go. Come on!"
Laura slowly releases her hold on the armor and follows Shannon from the room.
Steele's tour guide is telling her group about some chairs in another room. "This fine set of Georgian painted armchairs, decorated in petit-point needlework, was popular during a brief period of the eighteenth century." Steele is bored as he listens to her talk. She's about to speak again when they hear a noise like something falling in another room.
Being the closest to the door, Steele goes trough what appears to be the same dining area that Laura and Shannon traversed inside the Duke's private quarters, and enters the open door of the study.
He finds the Duke's body, encased in the armor, on the floor, and kneels beside it. The security guard enters. "Well, ain't you Johnny on the spot?" he comments.
Steele looks up at him. "I- I can explain this," he tells the guard.
"You will, mate," the guard promises. "You will."
Steele frowns in frustration.
Laura enters the honeymoon suite, followed very closely by a nervous Shannon, who declares, "He's going to kill me!"
"He can't kill you if he can't find you," Laura assures her, using a tone she might use when calming a child.
The phone rings and Shannon panics, declaring, "He found me!"
"Relax! *No one* knows you're here!" Laura tells her, spreading her arms out for emphasis as she walks across the room to the phone, shadowed by Shannon.
Laura picks up the elegant white receiver, but doesn't answer until she takes another look at her shadow and makes sure she has calmed down. Finally, she holds the receiver to her mouth and says, "Hello... Mildred?! I can hardly hear you! Where are you?"
Mildred is sitting on a bed in a different room, two suitcases beside her on the floor. "Next door!" she declares excitedly.
Through the phone, we can Laura's voice say, "Next door?"
"I got news for you that'll knock your socks off, honey!"
"Couldn't you have called from Los Angeles?" Laura asks.
"No," Mildred tells her. "I think you oughta hear this in person."
Laura sighs, looks at Shannon, who's fiddling with the leaves of a nearby plant, and replies, "Stay where you are." Then hanging up, she heads for the door.
Seeing Laura leave, Shannon grabs for her and runs to catch up, pleading, "Oh, don't leave me!"
Mildred lets Laura and an upset Shannon into the hotel room. "What's *she* doing here?" Mildred asks Laura about Shannon.
"Never mind her. What are *you* doing here?" Laura asks.
"I put in some overtime on the computer, and get this- the Lindstrom case is a fraud!"
"I know that," Laura tells her.
"You do?" Laura nods. "Well," Mildred says, laughing. "That was just for openers. Are you ready for this? The Boss has inherited a million pounds from the Earl of Claridge!"
"I know that, too," Laura says.
Mildred's features fall. "Ah, come on!"
"Sorry," Laura apologizes.
"Okay, okay. I've got only one left," Mildred begins, then stops, uncertain. "Oh, but I can't tell you."
"Because I swore to the Boss that I wouldn't spill the beans," Mildred says.
Laura crosses her arms, glaring. Shannon does the same from the window. Mildred looks from one to the other, then back to Laura. "It's about the archeologist," she says.
Laura puts are arm around Mildred's shoulders. "Mildred, how would you like a steerage ticket on the next flight to Los Angeles?"
"Okay, okay," Mildred says. "Let's just say that you dragged it out of me, okay?"
Later, Steele enters the suite. The telephone is ringing, and he answers it. "Hello? . . . Hello, Antony . . . Yes, I know I'm late. Something came up, I'm afraid . . . Believe me, I'm as eager to dispatch with you as you are with me . . . Say that again?" He opens a note pad beside the phone and writes something on it. "Okay. Flamingo Club. On my way." He hangs up, and goes into the bedroom to change.
Laura enters the suite, and is surprised to find that Steele is apparently still not there yet. She paces the room, angry, frustrated, and finds the note Steele wrote to himself. She tears it off and leaves again.
Steele comes from the bedroom, straightening his tie, having heard the door close behind her. He stops, confused, and goes to the notepad. He can't find the note he wrote, and looks on the table for it before following Laura out of the room.
At the Flamingo Club, the dance floor is filled with couples enjoying the nightclub's atmosphere. Laura arrives, and looks around until she sees Tony sitting alone at a table, watching the dancers.
She frowns and removes her jacket as she heads toward his table. When she gets there, she kneels behind him, kissing his neck. He goes still, then slips always to turn and look at her smiling face. "Laura!" He stands up as she continues to smile up at him. "What are you doing here?"
She stands up. "You mean *here* here, or here in London?" she asks, sitting down.
"London," he clarifies as she pulls him back down with his jacket lapels.
"A case," she says. She leans closer. "What brings you here?"
"Stonehenge," he lies.
"Ah, yes," she says, sliding her hand up his lapel. "Stonehenge. Archeology doesn't pay much, but you get to travel a lot," she says. "I remember your telling me that in Mexico." She rests her head on his shoulder. "So. How long will you be rutting about the ruins?"
Steele comes over. "Laura?"
She doesn't move from Tony's side. "Hello, dear!" she says, smiling. "Pull up a chair!"
"Tony was just going to tell me about Stonehenge," she says. "Fascinating occupation, archeology."
Steele looks at Tony and asks him wordless what she's doing there. When Laura looks at Steele to ask, "Don't you agree, Remy?" Tony mouths back that he doesn't know.
"Yes," Steele agrees. "Yes, that's why I'm here. Antony and I thought we'd- tip a few before he left."
"Yeah," Tony agrees as Laura looks at him.
She sits up and smiles at Steele. "I didn't realize you two were so chummy."
"Oh, come now, Laura. Antony and I have been old mates ever since Mexico. Right, old chap?" he asks, slapping Tony's arm across the table.
"Right," Tony agrees. "Mates all the way," he tells Laura.
"Yeah, mates all the way," Steele repeats. "Well, we'd love to stay and chat, but the case awaits," he tells her, standing up and grabbing her hand.
"It does?" Laura question, sounding fascinated.
"Fascinating new development," Steele tells her. "It seems Lindstrom was- spotted in Liverpool."
"Oh really?" Laura asks.
"However, he may have headed for Blackpool. So I suggest you take one pool and I'll take the other pool."
"And we'll see who gets washed up first," Laura tells him, fire in her eyes.
"Thank God I found you!" Shannon says, joining them.
"Shannon!" Steele says.
She finally notices him instead of Laura. "Douglas," she says, looking a bit frightened. She also sees Tony, and winces as if in pain. "Ohh," she moans. "Oooh."
"You alright?" Steele asks.
"Palpatation," she explains. "My heart."
"Right," he says, bending to find a chair for her. "Take a seat," he says. As she sits, he mutters in her ear, "I see it hasn't affected your penmanship."
She smiles at him as Laura asks Shannon, "Where's Mildred?"
"Mildred?" Steele and Tony both ask.
"Yeah. Mildred," the lady herself says, coming up behind Tony, glaring at Shannon. "Slide over, Buster," she tells Tony. Tony gives Steele an angry look. "Boy," Mildred comments. "This is one crowded table."
"Mildred," Steele asks, "What are the two of you doing here?"
"Camille over here," she nods toward Shannon, "Locks me in a closet- She sees you leaving," she tells Laura, "and gets a case of the screaming mimis."
A champagne corks pops close by, and Shannon gasps. "The Greek!" She ducks beneath the table.
Tony's confused. "What Greek?" he asks.
"That broad's got a screw loose," Mildred declares.
"Excuse me," Laura says, and then ducks beneath the table with Shannon to say, "It was just a champagne cork."
"No. He's here," Shannon insists. "I can feel it!" She grabs a passing waiter and tells him, "Brandy! For my heart," she tells Laura.
Steele bends down. "Loose something?" he asks.
Laura looks at him. "Yes. My respect. For you."
"What about your respect for the dead Duke?" he asks.
"You *know* about the dead Duke?" she asks.
"I just spent the last four hours trying to explain to London's finest how he got into a suit of armor," he tells her. "Care to enlighten me?"
Tony's head appears. "What's goin' on down here?"
"Who had the brandy?" The waiter asks, kneeling.
Shannon grabs it. "Here."
Mildred gets down as well. "Am I missing something?"
"Ask *him*!" Laura says, glaring at Steele as she sits up.
The others do likewise, except for Shannon, who remains under the table, nursing her brandy.
"Alright, Chief," Mildred says. "Give."
Laura jumps up and takes off. "Laura!" Steele calls, and takes off after her.
"Steele!" Tony tells him. "We gotta get moving!" He steps over Shannon to follow them.
Shannon looks up and puts her glass on the table. "Don't leave me!" she begs, and gets to her feet to follow as well.
Mildred pulls the snifter over to. "Bats. They're all bats."
Steele grabs Laura in the middle of the dance floor and they start to dance. "Just what are you two up to?" she asks him.
"Us to?" Steele replies.
Shannon grabs Tony and they start to dance, closer and closer to Laura and Steele.
"It was supposed to be you and me on our honeymoon, remember?" Laura reminds him. "Now it's you and him!"
"Me and him? What about you and her?" he asks.
"It wouldn't *be* me and her if it weren't for *you* and her!" Laura declares and pushes away from him. To walk away.
Tony sees her leaving and moves closer.
"Come here," Steele is saying, following his wife. "Laura-"
Tony pushes Shannon toward Steele and grabs Laura.
"Laura, come back here!" Steele says again as Shannon grabs him.
"Dougie! Please believe me. I had no choice. I had to tell him," she says.
"Tell who?" he asks.
"Mr. Roselli. It wasn't just the money. It was never just the money."
"What money?" he asks.
"Stonehenge," Laura snarls at Tony. "UCLA. Hah! You're not an archeologist. You never were an archeologist."
"I didn't like lying to you," Tony says.
"Why not? You did it so well! In a few hours, it'll all be over and you can go back to playing Mrs. Steele," he tells her.
"Just what you and your mate up to?" she asks him as Steele grabs her arm and pulls her back into his arms, sending Shannon into Tony's. "I'm not finished with you yet!" she tells Tony.
"And just when did you plan on telling me about my inheritance?" Steele asks Laura.
"I would have loved to tell you about your inheritance, but you were too busy with your mate," she accuses.
"Or perhaps *you* were too busy dredging up stray bodies with Shannon," he counters.
"Speaking of Shannon, you said you never wanted to see her again."
"Then when did you find the time to tell her our marriage was fake?"
"I was tryin' to save your neck," he tells her.
He nods. "Who do you think took those shots at you and Metzger in a jealous rage, eh?" he asks.
Laura glares at Shannon. "Let me *at* her!" she declares. Instead, Steele pushes her at Tony, and grabs Shannon again.
Shannon babbles, "It wasn't me! It was the doctor!"
"Why would your doctor shoot at Laura?" Steele asks her.
"He wasn't a real doctor, he's the dead Duke's detective," she explains.
"Never mind his occupation, what was his reason?"
"The Duke was concerned that you'd never succumb to my charms, and the doctor was merely trying to help him," she explains quickly.
"By killing Laura?" Steele asks, shocked at the idea.
"I could *kill* you," Laura hisses at Tony. "You haven't been following me. You've been following him!"
"I'm just a guy trying to do a job!" Tony tells her, looking at Steele and Shannon.
"What job?" she asks.
Tony sees the man from the bus enter the club and head toward the bar. "Change partners," he calls out, and releases Laura, only to find Mildred in his arms instead.
"I've got a bone to pick with you, Mr. Bones," she tells him, but he's not really listening. He's too concerned with the older man and getting things going. "You keep your mitts off the missus, you got it? I got you number."
"Change partners!" Tony yells again, sounding desperate this time. He pushes her into Laura, who falls into a waiter carrying a tray.
Hearing a glass breaking, Shannon screams again. "Ah! It's the Greek!" She starts gasping for breath again as she grabs at Steele.
Tony rushes up to them. "Let's get Miss Wayne to the powder room," he suggests, and they bracket her in between them. "Meet me at the bar," Tony tells Steele.
"All right," Steele says.
"Could you get me a brandy?" Shannon asks.
"Come along, darling," Steele tells her, "Time to throw some water on you." He and Shannon continue on as Tony falls back.
He goes to the bar, where the older man is sitting, having a brandy. "Everything proceeding in an orderly manner?" he asks Tony, who keeps looking ahead.
"Smooth as silk," Tony assures him.
"Mr. Steele willing to play messenger?"
"All he needs are the documents."
"He understands the risk?"
"I thought I'd break it to him gently," Tony says, smiling.
The man pulls an envelope from his jacket pocket and places it on the bar between them. "Do try not to let this one get away from you," he says, and leaves.
Steele takes his seat and looks at the envelope. "My calling card?" he asks.
"All you have to do is deliver it," Tony tells him.
Steele puts the documents into his jacket pocket asking, "What exactly am I delivering?"
"The Lindstrom case you were working on? You found out that Eric Lindstrom's an information broker."
Steele looks at him. " Archeology, immigration - and now espionage? You're a multi-faceted fellow, Antony."
Tony grins. "In order to buy his freedom, he told you about an American agent who wants to go over to the other side. He even gave you a few of the documents he had for sale."
"I drive a hard bargain," Steele comments.
"Being an honest citizen-"
"Of any particular country?" Steele prods.
"You made a few well-placed phone calls and you came up with the name Edward Helmsley. British intelligence."
"With the intention of giving him these documents."
"I sent Helmsley a note in your name, setting up the meeting."
"I see. And just where did I arrange this rendezvous?" Steele asks.
"Paddington Station. Platform 29. On your horse," he says, moving away.
Steele pulls him back. "If I can assume it's not my loyalties you're interested in, might you be testing Mr. Helmsley's?"
Tony grins again. "If Helmsley's straight, he'll turn the documents over to his superiors. If he's not- and I don't think he is- he'll contact the American agent."
"I wonder who that might be?" Steele says.
Tony grins again. "Helmsley and I have a quiet little conversation, strike a deal- and I'll have him."
"And if Helmsley doesn't buy this?" Steele asks.
"He'll kill you."
"All you have to do is convince him you're on the level," Tony points out. "You convinced me your marriage was on the level, didn't you?"
"Hmm," Steele nods, then moves off. Tony follows him.
Shannon sees them leaving, and follows them as well. "Dougie!" she calls as he get into a taxi. "Dougie! Don't leave me!"
She hears Tony tell the driver, "Paddington Station," before the taxi leaves with Steele in the back.
"Dougie!" Shannon calls again.
Tony turns to her. "Inside!" She looks upset and goes back in.
Tony watches the taxi leave, then follows her.
Inside, Shannon is moving toward Laura and Mildred when a man steps in front of her. "I'm sorry-" she starts to stay, then gasps.
"Miss Wayne," the Greek says. "How lovely to run into you."
"I - I have to warn you, I have a weak heart," she tells him.
He grabs her arm. "That shouldn't bother you- much longer," he says.
Tony sees him pulling her behind him, and starts in that direction, only to find himself attacked by two men- the Greek's bodyguards.
Laura and Mildred are gathering their things when Laura sees Shannon and stops. "I'll be damned! There really *is* a Greek!" She steps in front of them. "Let her go!" she tells the man.
He slaps her, pushing her into Mildred- and the waiter, who ends up over the railing. Mildred ends up in the lap of another man. "Sorry," Laura apologizes to the waiter, and takes off, leaving Mildred sitting there, talking to the man whose lap she's sitting in.
The Greek pulls Shannon out of the rear door of the club- and pushes her into the back of an old Rolls Royce before getting into the front and taking off.
Tony comes out the front doors and sees them leaving. He runs to a yellow vintage Rolls and uses it to block the driveway. Laura comes from the club and watches what's going on. When the Greek starts backing toward her, Laura is forced to jump over the hood of another car to escape being mowed down.
Tony leaps from his car and reaches into the Greek's car, grabbing the man around the neck with one arm and grabbing the steering wheel with the other, forcing the car into a wall. Laura chases them on foot. When the car hits, Tony is thrown to the ground, and sits up.
The Greek opens the door, knocking him out and runs to another car that's waiting for him in the alleyway. Seeing him get into the other car, Laura gives up the chase and returns to see Shannon trying to sneak away.
Tony regains his senses as well and they both catch up with the woman. "Not so fast," Laura tells her.
"Where are they headed?" Tony asks her.
"Well, they said they'd kill me if I didn't tell them where the jewels were," Shannon says.
"And?" Laura prods.
"I told them I didn't have them."
"And?" Tony asks.
"I told them Dougie did."
"You sent them to Paddington Station?" Tony asks.
Mildred joins them. Laura hands Shannon over to her. "Mildred, hang onto Miss Wayne."
"Where are you going?" Mildred asks.
"Paddington Station," Laura says, and turns away, only to have Tony pull her back.
"No you're not," he tells her.
A policeman comes up. "What seems to be the problem here?" he asks.
Mildred thinks quickly and stuffs her purse into Shannon's hands. "She stole my purse!" she says.
"What?" Shannon asks.
"Nice going," Laura says quietly.
"It worked with an urn," Mildred reminds her.
Laura takes off, and Tony follows.
"I'd never steal this," Shannon insists. "This is vinyl!"
"Well, vinyl or not," Mildred tells the officer, "I wanna press charges!"
He moves closer.
Laura runs to the Greek's Rolls and gets in as Tony starts the engine. They drive down the road, and she asks, "Why are we going to Paddington Station?" she asks.
"Your husband's doing me a favor," he tells her reluctantly.
"What kind of favor?"
"A dangerous one. Which is we've been trying to keep you out of it," he tells her.
"You used me," she accuses him. "You only got close to me to get to him!"
"I didn't have to get close to you to get to him. I just got close to you," he admits, looking at her.
Laura looks doubtful and tells him, "Watch the road."
At Paddington, an over coated Steele waits beside a train. From the shadows, a man calls, "Remington Steele?" Steele looks, takes a few steps in that direction. The man pulls a gun from his pocket. "No closer, Mr. Steele. Do you recognize this sound?" he asks, pulling the hammer back on the gun.
"The cocking of a Walther P-38," Steele says.
"We're going to have a little pop quiz. And unless I'm satisfied with your answers, I'm going to pull this trigger."
"Sounds more like a final exam to me," Steele comments.
"Question number one: Who supplied you with the envelope in your jacket pocket?"
"A gentleman named Eric Lindstrom."
"Question number two: How did you come upon this Lindstrom?"
"He stole a painting from my client. I was trying to get it back."
"Question number three: Why did you contact me?"
"Well, friends in the trade said you were a good man to talk to," Steele says.
"Interesting. Our American cousins never heard of you."
"Well, we had a little falling out. You know how messy those tiffs can be."
"You're starting to fade, Mr. Steele," Helmsley warns ominously.
"I'm getting tired of your quiz, Helmsley. I came to help. If you don't want it, I'll go back to my hotel." He turns around and starts away.
"Steele," Helmsley says, and Steele pauses. The agent releases the hammer on the gun and lowers it. "You just passed." He comes out as Steele turns around to face him. Steele hands him the documents. "By the way, it was a Barretta," he says, smiling.
Steele watches him go, then heads back toward the entrance, only to find himself confronted by the Greek. "I want my jewels, Mr. Steele," he says.
"I'm sure you do," is all Steele says before the Greek's men jump him from behind and hold him.
The Greek puts his fists into Steele's stomach. "Speak, my friend," the Greek says. "Before you're unable to."
The Greek pulls back a fist again, intending to hit him in the face, but Tony makes a flying tackle and sends them both into a photo booth, where Tony stuns him and leaves him there to jump one of the other men that Steele sends his direction.
The Greek comes out and jumps Tony again. Steele takes care of one of the men, and backs away, only to come up against Tony. They each turn, fists raised until they realize it's a more or less friendly face. "Any idea who that is?" he asks Tony.
"The Greek!" Tony tells him.
"Of course, who else could it be?" Steele questions rhetorically as he and Tony stand back to back, watching the Greek and his men. He and Tony finish off the Greek and one of the men, and Laura bashes the third with a candy machine. She comes up between them.
"Nice right," Tony tells Steele.
"Good left," Steele says.
Laura's had enough. "Would you please stop playing John Wayne and tell me what's going on?!"
"Did he take the bait?" Tony asks Steele.
"Like a starving sturgeon," Steele replies.
"What bait?!" Laura demands to know.
"Your husband will tell you later," Tony tells her.
"Well, it appears the time has come to bid you a reluctant adieu, Antony," Steele says, taking Tony's hand.
Tony slips away as Laura steps up to confront Steele. "He is not leaving until I know what is going on!"
The police rush into the station, and stop upon seeing the Greek and his men. "Had a bit of a row, did we?" one of them asks.
"Uh, arrest these gentlemen, will you, Constable," Steele says. "I'll fill you in when you get to the police station." He looks at Laura and tells her in a softer voice, "And you can fill me in before I fill them in." She glares at him.
At the station, Mildred and Shannon are standing before a policeman. "*You* had her arrested," he says to Mildred. "Now you want her released!"
"Is it against the law to change your mind in England?" she asks.
The doors open and Laura is telling the police, "I believe you'll find that Mr. Theodopolis is responsible for murdering the Duke or Wallingford-" Shannon sees the Greek and turns away, frightened.
But it's too late. "That's her!" the Greek yells. "She is the one! She is the one who stole my jewels!"
"I've never seen this man before in my life," Shannon insists, and grabs Mildred's arm.
"Lying thief!" he says. "I have proof. I have a photograph."
The desk officer tells Shannon, "I'm afraid we'll have to detain you, miss, until this is all sorted out." They take the Greek away as Shannon runs to Steele.
"Oh, Dougie!" she says. "Help me!"
"Don't look at me, sweetheart," he tells her. "I'm afraid you're all on your own now."
"But I know I can explain this to everyone's satisfaction," she insists as another policeman pulls her away. "It started in Paris. It was raining. It always rains in Paris "
Joining Laura and Steele, Mildred shakes her head as she watches Shannon leave. "I think she'll do just fine on her own, Boss," she says.
"Yes," he agrees. "I think she will, Mildred. I think she will. Well, another hard day's work successfully accomplished, eh?"
Laura turns to look at him. "You still owe me an explanation," she reminds him. He puts a hand to his face. "About you and Tony."
"Absolutely. That I do. But I suggest we go back to the hotel and enjoy the fruits of our labours, okay?" he says, putting an arm around Laura and turning her toward the doors.
"Just a moment, Mr. Steele," the desk officer says, making him turn.
"We've a few forms to take care of before you go." He pulls out a thick pile of papers and puts them on the counter. "Shouldn't take very long."
Later, a weary Mildred, Laura and Steele return to the hotel. "Hours of paperwork," Mildred frets. "These guys have got the IRS beat hands down."
"All I want to do is take a shower and go to sleep," Laura says.
"Mr. Steele!" Mr. Smithers, the solicitor calls out, approaching him as Steele removes his coat. "Might I have a word with you?" he asks.
"Another time, maybe," Steele begins, but Laura grabs his arm.
"That's the solicitor with your inheritance," she tells him.
Steele smiles at the man. "On second thought, I'm always in the mood for a good conversation. Why don't you step this way, sir. Yes."
Upstairs in their suite, Steele signs the papers and Smithers looks at it. "Yes, everything seems to be in order," he tells them as a nervous Steele sits back on the sofa. Laura is perched on the arm beside him, Mildred stands close by.
"Good," Steele says. "Good. Yes." His features grow somber. "It's a shame the Earl didn't find his real son before he died," he says.
Smithers hands him some papers. "He always had a real bond with you, Mr. Steele. In a certain sense, you were that long-lost son. Which is why he remembered you in his will."
"Generous thought," Steele says.
"When do we get the dough?" Mildred asks.
Smithers looks confused. "The 'dough'?"
"The million pounds."
"Oh, dear. Didn't I mention that? You see, the Earl didn't leave you cash."
"Exactly what did he leave, huh?" Steele asks.
"A castle," Smithers informs him.
Steele's expression changes to uncertainty as Laura questions, "A castle?"
"In Ireland," the solicitor says disapprovingly. "Well. You have the deeds. I'll be popping off. Oh, congratulations again." He tips his hat and leaves.
Mildred is in the mood to celebrate. "Oooh, that calls for bubbly!" she declares and leaves them alone to go to the bar and start opening the bottle.
Steele isn't in the same mood at all as he surveys the deeds to his castle. "A castle? In Ireland?"
"A honeymoon in an Irish castle," Laura says musingly, drawing Mildred and Steele's attention. "Tucked away where no one can find us." She looks down at Steele. "Doesn't sound too shabby to me."
"Book us on the night boat to Dublin. We're going to Ireland," he says, looking up at a smiling Laura.
Helmsley enters an abandoned building and stands on the stairs. "Mr. Roselli?"
"Up here," Tony calls out from above.
Helmsley continues upstairs, entering a starkly furnished room where Tony sits, waiting for him. "Right on time," Tony says to the silent man. "Tea?" Still no response, so Tony gets up and goes toward a tea kettle sitting on a hot plate. His back is to Helmsley. "Get my package?" Tony asks.
"Interesting reading," the man says.
"There's more where that came from," Tony tells him.
"I'm sure there is."
"For the right price," Tony says.
"I brought your down payment," Helmsley says, and pulls a gun from his pocket.
Tony hears it cock, and tosses the hot tea water into his face, then takes off for the stairs. Helmsley fires a couple of shots at him. Tony gets to the bottom of the second flight of stairs, and waits. Helmsley stops, and aims his gun. Tony pulls the rug carpet and Helmsley falls backward- out of the window, to the ground below.
Tony looks down and sees that the man is dead.
The man who gave Tony the documents at the club is reading when the telephone rings. He answers it. "Yes?"
It's Tony. "Helmsley tried to kill me," he reports.
"Where is he now?"
"And the documents?"
"He didn't have them."
"You made a ripe old mess of this one."
"Why did Helmsley try to kill me?"
"Obviously your little act was very unconvincing."
"Somebody tipped him off!" Tony insists. He looks up as he hears police sirens.
"I warned you, Tony, and now you've left me with the debris. Get out. And you'd better pray that I don't get you before the police do." He hangs up.
Tony tosses the phone across the room, furious.
On the train, Laura and Steele are in a private compartment. Laura removes her coat and sits down beside him. "I hear it's at least four hours to the ferry," she tells him.
"Why Mrs. Steele. There's something positively lascivious in your tone." They're about to kiss when suddenly Laura stops and stares at the doorway.
Tony is there with an envelope. "How's it going?" he asks.
Steele clears his throat, obviously not happy at seeing him. 'I thought we said our final farewells last night?"
"You forgot this," he tells them, entering the compartment to sit down across from them. "Shannon Wayne's statement," he says, giving the envelope to Steele.
"That's very kind of you to remember," Steele tells him, folding the envelope.
"You won't be bothered by Immigration anymore," Tony assures them.
"That's not the only thing I don't want to be bothered by anymore," Steele says in a dark tone.
The train jerks, and begins to move. "We're underway," Laura notes.
Tony shrugs. "I'll get off at the next stop."
"Oh," Laura says.
"Um humm," Steele murmurs.
"So, where're you guys goin'?" he asks as the train stops again.
Hearing sounds of a search going on, Steele goes to the door and looks out. "Tell me, Antony, you wouldn't happen to know why there's a bevy of Bobbies boarding our train, would you?"
Tony gets up, looks, and goes back to the bench to look at Laura. "Help me," he tells her earnestly.
Laura stares as Steele holds up the envelope. "I feel a distinct lack of motivation," he says.
Suddenly, as the police come closer, Laura leaps across the compartment and into Tony's arms, giving him a long kiss. Her back is to the door, blocking Tony's face. Steele's smile fades as he watches. A Bobby comes up and Steele blocks the doorway, saying, "Uh, Remington Steele, world famous private investigator and his bride- on their honeymoon." He holds out a hand. "Trevor Keach. British Railway Association. May I help you?"
"We're looking for a murderer," the Bobby tells him.
"A murderer? On my train? Good Lord, man, why are you standing here talking to me? Go find him, for heaven's sake. Please, please find him. Yes." The Bobby glances at Laura's back again, then leaves. Steele looks at Laura. "He's gone." When the kiss continues, he says, "He's probably back at the station by now, havin' a cuppa tea, playin' darts, you know?"
The train starts moving again, and Laura returns to her own seat, out of breath, with a dazed look on her face.
"Quick thinking, Laura," Steele tells her.
Her glazed eyes still on Tony, she says, "Thank you."
"You saved my life," Tony tells her.
"Why do I get the feeling I'm gonna regret that act of mercy?" Steele muses as Laura straightens her hat and tries to catch her breath.