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Remington and Laura sat silently in the back of the limousine,
each staring out through the tinted windows, deep in their own
thoughts.Remington had tried several times to engage her in conversation
but his efforts had been futile. The look of fear that had become
a part of her during the last few days hadn't gone unnoticed.He
was worried about her, both for the sake of their baby and for
Laura's mental state. If something were to happen to her father
now, before she had been able to resolve things with him, he didn't
know what it would do to her.
He silently prayed that he would never have to find out. He knew
that she was angry with Carlton, but he sensed that it was more
than that. She needed answers, and these were answers that only
Carlton could provide.
Laura had done so much for him. She had erased the demons of his
past and revealed his father to him. More than anything, he wanted
to do the same for her.
"Laura?" he said softly. "I think we're almost
there. Are you sure you feel up to this tonight?"
"I feel fine, stop worrying about me," she said, but
her tone told him otherwise.
"I just thought- I mean-I could handle this myself and the
driver could take you back to the castle to get some rest. There's
really no need for both of us to be here."
"And you think you can handle this on your own? I am perfectly
capable of working on this case, despite my personal involvement."
She had barely slept in days, but despite her total exhaustion,
he could still see a little of the old fire shining through.
"I wasn't questioning your abilities, Laura. You just seem
a little tired, that's all."
A look of complete irritation came over her face. "Are we
done with this conversation? I am going to the party and that
is final! If I wanted to have someone playing mother hen to me,
I would have brought Mildred along. We have a job to do, and I
intend to do it. Now, can we just get on with it?"
"Have it your way," he replied. He had learned long
ago that once Laura had made up her mind about something, there
was no changing it.
The long, black limousine pulled up in front of the museum.The
party was in full-swing already. They had thought it better to
arrive late, as not to attract attention to themselves. After
all, they weren't exactly invited guests. They were betting on
the fact that Mr. Simpson couldn't be familiar with all of the
guests that were invited.
As they exited the car and approached the building, the sounds
of a band playing inside greeted them. Eric Simpson had spared
no expense, as the guest list for the party was a "who's
who" of the jewel collecting world. The red carpet flowed
outward from the main entrance and a rather large man with a scowl
on his face was waiting at the door to greet them.
"Your invitation, please," the man growled at them,
making it seem more like an order than a request.
"Got it right here," Steele replied as he reached into
the inside jacket pocket of his tuxedo. "I am Andrew Faulkner,
and this is my lovely wife, Kathryn."
The man inspected the invitation and motioned for them to them
to proceed inside the museum. As they entered, they were both
awed by the scene inside.The room itself was exquisite, with a
huge domed ceiling painted with scenes from Irish history and
chandeliers that looked as if they were made of diamonds. Champagne
fountains were everywhere and dozens of waiters scurried around,
tending to the guests. To the left of the room, a band played
while couples danced to the music. To the right, a grand staircase
met the balcony that overlooked the entire room.
Several men, similar in looks to the man who had greeted them
at the door, moved around the room, observing everything.Two men,
dressed in tuxedos, but clearly security personnel, were positioned
on the balcony watching the scene below. Security was tight, but
that was to be expected at an event such as this. Every woman
in the room looked as if she had been dipped in jewels-;diamonds,
emeralds, rubies, sapphires, pearls.
Steele let out a faint laugh as he thought of how much his "former
self" would have appreciated this party.
"Don't get any ideas, Mr. Steele," his wife said knowingly.
"We are here to catch a jewel thief, not become one."
"You know me too well, my love," he replied, kissing
her gently on the lips.
Eric Simpson moved around the room, greeting his guests as they
entered and exited the party. He seemed comfortable in such grand
surroundings. He appeared to be in his late 50s and had the look
of one who had always lived well. As Steele and Laura approached
him, the look on his face changed to that of unfamiliarity and
even nervousness.
"Hello, Mr.Simpson. I am Andrew Faulkner, and this is my
wife, Kathryn. We were so pleased to receive your invitation."
"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner. I am glad you were able to attend.
I trust you are having a pleasant time."
"A lovely time," Laura answered. "We were so looking
forward to meeting you, Mr. Simpson. We understand that you are
the man to know in jewel collecting."
"You flatter me, Mrs. Faulkner. I am simply a man who appreciates
a thing of beauty," Simpson said as he gently kissed Laura's
hand. "And it appears that you, Mr. Faulkner, already possess
the greatest treasure." He looked appreciatively in Laura's
direction.
"I couldn't agree more," Steele answered, exchanging
a glance with his wife.
"What are you a collector of, Mr. Faulkner?" Simpson
inquired. "Diamonds? Emeralds? Sapphires? Rubies, perhaps?"
"Actually, I have recently become a collector of fine pearls.
I just recently acquired a pearl bracelet that was in the British
royal family for many generations. It came into my possession
quite unexpectedly, and at considerable cost, but with its rich
history, I just couldn't pass it up. I am almost as fascinated
by the history of any particular jewel as I am by the jewel itself.
But as the curator of this fine museum, I am sure you can appreciate
that. "
"Yes, indeed I can. Pearls, you say?" Simpson responded,
with a note of interest in his voice. His eyes lit up and he looked
around the room nervously."I don't run across many collectors
of pearls anymore. Everyone seems to have moved on to the more
flashy jewels. The simplicity of a rare pearl is appreciated by
very few."
"I couldn't agree more. I would appreciate it, Mr. Simpson,
if you would keep me in mind should you ever hear of anyone wishing
to sell any. I am only interested in those of the highest quality
though. We are staying at Ashford Castle while we are visiting,
so you can contact us there. I am a man of means and I could certainly
make it worth their while." Steele made a mental note to
tell Mickeleen to be on the alert for phone calls for the Faulkners.
"I'll do that, Mr. Faulkner." He glanced around the
room, as if looking for someone. "Now, if you will excuse
me, I see some late arrivals that I must speak with. It was a
pleasure meeting you both and I hope to be able to talk with you
more later this evening."
"We'll look forward to it," Steele responded.
"Any ideas?"Laura looked at her husband, unsure of what
their next move should be. "Simpson seemed somewhat intrigued
at the mention of our pearl collection, but you could hardly call
that incriminating. I think that while he is very much aware of
the danger he is in, it's not likely that he will reveal any information
to anyone at this point."
"If Simpson is involved with the Hand in any way, he knows
that any mistakes on his part will certainly be deadly. He isn't
going to open up to us, a couple of jewel collectors, when his
life is at risk. What we need to do is to get into that office
of his. If I were in danger and in possession of something of
great value, I would certainly keep it nearby in case I have to
make a quick escape." Steele hesitated. "Not that I
would have any personal experience with that sort of thing!"
A grin crossed his face as Laura looked at him, rolling her eyes
slightly before responding. "No, not you! You are the great
Remington Steele." She paused. "Who would have thought
that your past, your life of crime, would be an asset to this
agency? But I guess to catch a criminal, sometimes it is helpful
to be able to think like one."
"What we need here is a distraction. Something to divert
the attention of these thugs, and Simpson, so that we can get
into that office. Even if the necklace isn't there, we may find
something that might lead us to where he is keeping it or at least
give us a clue to how involved he is in all of this."
"I can take care of Simpson," Laura responded. "But
as for the security guards, I don't know."
"And just how do you plan to distract Simpson?"Remington
asked, the sound of concern very apparent in his voice.
"I have my ways," she replied, the sound of seduction
in her voice. Steele knew exactly what she meant. He was all too
familiar with what Laura had in mind, he himself having fallen
victim to her charms many times.
"Just be careful, and give me as much time as you can.I have
an idea for distracting the others. And Laura-" he paused,
"-don't be too convincing."
"You just get into that office and don't worry about me."
*********
Laura stood alone at the bar, sipping her mineral water. She wondered
what her husband was planning. Maybe it was better that she not
know, as sometimes his reckless behavior annoyed her. Or was it
just concern? She didn't like the risks he frequently took. But
that was him, and that part of him she couldn't change. Maybe
she didn't even want to.
She noticed the large man at the door motioning for the other
security guards to follow him. They congregated near the entrance
to the museum and then quickly moved in the direction of the parking
area. She knew instantly that Remington was behind that sudden
gathering of personnel. This was where she needed to make her
move. As she moved across the room, she spotted Mr. Simpson talking
with a group of people.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Simpson, but it appears
as though my husband has abandoned me to talk jewels with some
investor from Paris. I thought I might be able to convince you
to share a dance with me," she purred.
"I can't imagine any man refusing a dance with such a beautiful
woman. I would be delighted, Mrs. Faulkner." He gently took
her hand."Shall we?"
"Yes. Thank you. And please, call me Kathryn."
"Only if you call me Eric."
As Laura made small talk with her distinguished looking dance
partner, she watched the stairs for any sign of her husband. What
seemed like hours passed before she saw him quickly glide up the
stairs and enter the room that Mr. Simpson had entered earlier.
He had done so with ease; either it had been carelessly left unlocked
or her husband's lock picking skills had only improved with time.
She suspected the latter.
She danced with him for Mr. Simpson a for a couple of more dances
before she decided she needed to switch strategies.
She leaned into Mr. Simpson as if she was feeling weak. She was
familiar with this sensation from the recent past, pretending
to be ill would be easy. She felt his arm around her waist, supporting
the entire weight of her body.
"Kathryn, are you feeling okay?"
"I'm sorry; all of the sudden I am feeling light -headed.
The room is spinning. I think it is just the heat and all the
excitement. Would you mind taking me outside for a moment, so
I can get a bit of fresh air?"
"Not at all, but shouldn't we get your husband?"
"I would rather not trouble him with this. He is such a worrier
and he would certainly insist on our leaving. And I am having
such a good time."
"Okay then, there is a terrace outside the museum where I
think you will be comfortable. I'll ask one of the waiters to
bring you a glass of water."
"And you will join me, won't you? I am so enjoying our conversation."
"Of course."
###
Remington looked around the large and expensively decorated office
before noticing a small painting on the wall directly behind the
giant desk. Instinctively, he knew that was where he would find
Eric Simpson's safe. As he moved the painting aside, he discovered
that his assumption was correct.
"This should be a piece of cake," he thought to himself
confidently.
Barely a minute had passed before Remington found himself viewing
the contents of Mr. Simpson's safe. The safe didn't contain much-;
a small amount of money, an emerald ring, receipts for pieces
of jewelry on loan to the museum-; but no necklace. He was sure
that Simpson would have stashed the necklace there. He thought
that maybe his instincts were failing him. He then ran his hand
along the interior of the safe and felt what appeared to be a
hidden panel in the back of the metal box.
"Why, Mr. Simpson, how clever you are," he said softly
to himself.
He quickly pulled out everything the safe contained. In it he
found three passports, all with the same photo but different names.
Only one showed the name Eric Simpson. There was more cash; he
estimated it to be about $50,000, all in large bills. As reached
into the safe for one last check, he discovered, taped to the
back of the secret compartment, a velvet pouch with a gold clasp
on the front.
Immediately, Steele knew what he had found. As he opened the pouch,
he felt that adrenaline rush that he knew so well from his past.
He gently reached into the pouch and pulled out the necklace.
It was exquisite, more beautiful than any jewel he had ever seen.
The sapphire glimmered in the faint light of Simpson's office.
The pearls were larger and more perfect than any he had ever seen.
It was easy for him to understand why others had been willing
to die in their quest to possess this necklace.
He laughed out loud as he wondered what the "finder's fee"
would be on a piece like this. But there was no time for thoughts
like that. As he placed the necklace back into its velvet case,
his fingers brushed something else in the pouch.
It was a card he recognized only too well, complete with the insignia
of the Hand. And clipped to the card was another card, this one
blank except for an address and a date and time. July 30th at
11 pm-;that was tomorrow. But who was he was meeting? A member
of the Hand? A buyer for the necklace? Someone to help him flee
the country? Perhaps Laura would have an idea.
Laura. He needed to return to her before Simpson became suspicious.
He slipped the pouch and its contents into his pocket and returned
the other items to the safe, hoping to leave it looking undisturbed.
He slid the painting back into its original spot and headed toward
the door, hoping that he could make it back down the stairs without
being spotted. He knew that his diversion would have the security
men in an uproar for some time; he just hoped Laura had fared
as well.
*************
"There you are, Dear. I have been looking all over for you."
Steele approached his wife and Eric Simpson, who were sitting
on the terrace in the moonlight."Is everything alright?"
"I'm fine; I was just feeling a little queasy and Eric brought
me outside for a bit of fresh air. I am feeling much better now."
"Thank you, Mr. Simpson. I appreciate your kindness but I
really think I should be getting my wife home now. You are still
looking a little pale, Kathryn, and I think you need some rest."
"Really, I am fine. Nothing to worry about."
"I'm afraid I must insist. Come along; let's be going now.
Good night, Mr. Simpson, and thank you for your hospitality."
Laura recognized that look of insistence in her husband's eyes.She
wondered what it was that he had discovered in the office upstairs.
"Yes, Eric, thank you very much.It was a very nice evening."
Eric Simpson rose from his chair and shook hands with Steele.
"Very nice to meet you both. I do hope we will meet again."
"You can be sure of it, Mr. Simpson," Remington replied.
***********
It wasn't until the limousine had begun the journey back to Ashford
Castle that Steele reached into his pocket and pulled out the
velvet pouch.
"I thought you might be interested in seeing this,"
Remington said after checking that the divider between them and
the limo driver was closed. One could never be too careful.
A smile crossed Laura's lips, the first one that he had seen since
her father's reappearance into her life. He couldn't help but
think how beautiful she looked and how much he wished he could
give her the necklace to keep. For him, even the necklace paled
in comparison to Laura's beauty.
"Is this what I think it is?"
"Open it up and see," he replied, a twinkle in his bright
blue eyes.
Laura carefully opened the pouch and retrieved the necklace. She
sat silently for a moment staring at the jewels, almost unable
to speak. Steele broke the silence a few seconds later. "Breathtaking,
isn't it?"
"I've never seen anything like it. It is unbelievable! The
Heart of the Ocean. I can see how it got it's name." She
finally diverted her eyes from the necklace and looked at her
husband. "Were they in Eric's office, as we suspected?"
"Oh, I see you two are now on a first name basis.What else
did I miss?" He looked at his wife, a glimmer in his eyes.
"Should I be worried?"
Laura still enjoyed the periodic bouts of jealousy that her husband
suffered from. "I only have eyes for you, my dear. Now, tell
me what happened in Simpson's office. I take it there were no
problems?"
"I had no trouble getting into the office. Other than the
security guards, who were easily distracted, the security was
pretty shoddy. His safe was behind a painting on the wall and
he had this pouch hidden in a secret compartment, along with 2
cards which you will find there at the the bottom of the pouch.
There was some cash there too, along with 3 passports, all in
different names. Maybe he is planning a little trip?"
Laura quickly pulled the cards out of the bag. As she looked at
the card with the black glove on it she shuddered. "The Hand.We
were right about his involvement with them. And it appears that
he has an appointment tomorrow night. I wonder if he will keep
the meeting once he discovers that the necklace is missing?"
"Any ideas, Laura?"
"I'm thinking-Do you intend to tell Felicia that we have
the necklace?"
"No, not yet. We still have time left and unfortunately our
possession of the necklace won't ensure your father's safety,
or our own. If we just hand over the necklace, we will almost
certainly be disposed of. The Hand doesn't like to leave loose
ends. And if we hand the necklace to Felicia, she may decide to
cross the Hand, if she hasn't already. Then we will have no leverage
with which to get your father back."
Laura's expression changed with the mention of the woman from
her husband's past. "Just promise me that after my father
is safe, we will be rid of her forever."
"I promise." And with one look into his eyes, she knew
he meant it.
"Are you familiar with this address on the card?" Laura
inquired.
"I used to frequent the area as a lad," he replied.
"I believe it is one of the old abandoned warehouses in the
industrial section of Dublin. Not a place one usually goes after
dark, unless they are up to no good. And I am sure that is the
case with our Mr. Simpson."
"And what might you have been doing there in the past? Or
don't I want to know?"
"Laura, I can't give away all of my secrets. What is life
without a little mystery?" As she began to protest, he silenced
her with a passionate kiss.
She pulled away after a few seconds and looked into her husband's
eyes. "So," she paused. "We have the necklace.
And we know where Simpson is supposed to meet his partner, or
at least that someone connected with this fiasco, at the warehouse
at 11 pm tomorrow. Perhaps we should join them? We need to find
out who we are dealing with."
"I had a feeling that you were going to say that. But first
I think we need a good night's sleep. There's nothing more we
can do tonight."
"Only you could sleep at a time like this!"
"It would appear that what we need now is a plan, Mrs. Steele.
And a damn good one!"
"You're in luck, Mr. Steele. It just so happens I have an
idea-"
"I thought you might!" he replied, pulling his wife
into his arms.
To be continued...