ReJoined Steele Part 4

ReJoined Steele
Part Four

Lucas Hepplewhite looked from the ID to the man who stood before him, trying in vain to peer past the thick lenses of the man's horn-rimmed glasses. "From the insurance company, you say? I thought that you weren't supposed to be here until tomorrow AFTER the gems arrive, Mr.-," he glanced again at the card. "Mr. James." Mr. James clicked his tongue in disgust. "Those people at the main office never get anything right. I told them that I was planning to arrive BEFORE the gems arrive. Get a feel for the security measures you've taken for them. Have you hired a security firm to get them from the airport safely?" "A local Private Investigator with experience in protecting the Lavulite," Hepplewhite assured him as they moved into a study where the walls were covered by valuable paintings. "She's assured me that the gems will be quite safe between the airplane and here." Mr. James took out a notepad. "May I ask the name? We DO have to check out everyone involved in handling the gems, after all. My company's interests are at stake." "Laura Holt Investigations." He watched as the younger man wrote it down. "No, that's Holt. With an "H". Not a "B"." Mr. James smiled, embarrassed. "Sorry. Now," he said, looking around. "Where will the gems be kept when they arrive? In this room?" "Oh, no. No. This way, if you please." The insurance man paused before a painting, examining it. "Interesting," he said softly. Hepplewhite looked at him. "What is it?" "I could have sworn that this painting was in a museum in Rome." His host smiled. "You've found me out, I'm afraid. It's a copy." "A very GOOD copy," Mr. James commented. "But of course. I only own the best. You're very observant, Mr. James, regarding art. Are you as well versed in gemology, I wonder?" Hepplewhite asked. Mr. James smiled. "I'm considered an expert. It's my job, after all, Mr. Hepplewhite." Hepplewhite nodded in agreement. "Shall we?" Mr. James turned to follow Lucas Hepplewhite down the corridor.
***
"I don't care what he said, Mildred, he's going to try and steal those gems, and *I* have to stop him." "Not if he doesn't make his move until after you've finished your job, Laura," Mildred insisted as she faced her friend and employer. "The South African government HIRED him to get the stones back." This would be so much easier if I could just tell her the truth about Mr. Hepplewhite, Mildred thought miserably. "Mr. Hepplewhite's reason for having bought those gems is a good one, Mildred. His wife's family was the first owners of the Lavulite. The South African government stole the stones from THEM." She stood and began to pace the room. "He wants the gems as a reminder of his late wife. I can't stand by and let ANYONE steal them." "You can't blow the whistle on him, hon," Mildred reminded her. "Oh, can't I?" "No. Because there are people in this town who still remember Remington Steele. If he's caught, the press would have a field day with all of this." Laura sat down heavily. "You're right. I'm not sure which is turning my life upside down more: the Royal Lavulite or HIM." She sat there, eyes locked on her hands. "How is he, Mildred?" she asked slowly, as if the words were said against her will. "Well, he's not our Mr. Steele anymore. The man I knew wouldn't have been seen without a tie in a public restaurant. But Harry Chalmers seems more relaxed. Even more sure of himself, if that's possible." Laura smiled. "Harry. You know, I called him that a couple of times, when I was looking for something to call him besides 'Remington'. He never let on that anyone else had used that name for him. Of course, he's used so many of them. This is probably only one more--." "Nope. He showed me his passport. It's legit. Once he found out that Daniel Chalmers was his father, he was able to track his birth certificate down. His name really IS Harry Chalmers." Mildred had to strain to hear the next question. "Does he seem- happy?" "You want the truth?" Laura looked up at her. "Always." "No. He didn't. Oh, he put up a good front. But I could see it in his eyes. The only time they had that old fire was when he talked about--," Mildred hesitated. "About what?" "About you," she answered. "Oh." Laura sat back. "What am I going to do, Mildred? I thought I had this all planned out. But I have to be able to trust you not to run to - HARRY with my plans." "I won't say a word, Laura," Mildred promised solemnly, sitting down beside her. "What are we going to do?"
***
"You're sure you have enough information?" Lucas Hepplewhite asked as he and Mr. James stood in the doorway waiting for the taxi that had been called. "I believe I have more that enough for my purposes," Mr. James said with a definite air. "I'll see you tomorrow when the gems arrive. I'd like to be on hand to personally oversee their transfer into the house- and to authenticate them for my company, of course." "Very well. Why don't you come to the airport with us, then?" "No. I'd prefer to be here, making certain that things are secure." "Understood. You're a very thorough man, Mr. James." "Something I pride myself on, Mr. Hepplewhite," Mr. James assured him. "Ah, there's my taxi. Until tomorrow." He shook Hepplewhite's hand and got into the taxi. Once the car cleared the gates, Harry removed the glasses and loosened his tie. Much better. He felt good. But then, he always felt good just before completing a job. He was going to have to contact that museum in Rome, tell them that he had found the Renoir-the ORIGINAL Renoir. Hepplewhite had a lot of nerve to display the damn thing that way. Idly he wondered how many of the other items in that house were stolen goods with a bounty on them. He told the driver where he wanted to go- and sat back. This was going to be much easier than he'd first thought it would be. IF Laura didn't decide to blow his cover tomorrow.
***
Laura entered the house and removed her shoes, then her jacket, laying it on the back of a chair. It was such a simple plan- a variation of the one she'd used the first time the Lavulite had entered her life. The small corporate jet that Mr. Hepplewhite had flying the jewels into the country had been re routed through Mexico. When it landed, a U.S. Customs agent would board the aircraft to inspect it. Of course, the "Agent" would be none other than Mildred, in a dark car with official lettering on it. Laura had easily worked that part out with a friend of hers who actually worked IN Customs. While on the plane, Mildred would- under the watchful eye of the guards, place the small box containing the gems into her purse, and then leave. THEN the guards would off load the larger strongbox from the plane to the armored car. Mildred would take the official car back to the lot where she picked it up, and take a cab, switching at least twice to make sure she wasn't followed before meeting Laura, Mr. Hepplewhite, and the armored car at the house. Easy. No problem, she told herself, sitting down, closing her eyes. She was getting a headache. Opening her eyes, she rose and wandered into the bedroom, her eyes finding the photograph on her bedside table. She wasn't sure why she had kept it- why she had kept any of the pictures of HIM. Sitting down, she picked it up. "Oh, Harry," she sighed. The doorbell's ring brought a frown to her face and Laura returned the photo to its place, going to the door. Looking through the peephole, she saw a uniformed delivery man. She opened the door. "Hello?" The young man grinned, holding out a bouquet of wildflowers- and box that looked suspiciously like it might contain chocolates. "Miss Laura Holt?" "Yes?" she confirmed uncertainly. "These are for you." Laura took the flowers and box. "Thank you. Let me get something for you," she began, but the man shook his head. "That's okay. Have a nice day, ma'am." Laura closed the door and took the flowers into the living room. She supposed Tony MIGHT have sent them. You KNOW who sent them, Laura, she thought to herself. The only way to find out was to read the card attached to the box- which DID contain chocolates, she realized. She could almost SMELL the aroma of the dark sweets. With a shaking hand, she opened the small envelope and read the card. "Harry." Nothing else. She went into the kitchen to find a vase for the flowers, thinking how very like him this was. Flowers, candy. He certainly knew the way to get to her, didn't he? She was reaching for a vase when she realized that he knew her perhaps TOO well. Or- maybe that should be he had KNOWN her too well. If Harry Chalmers thought that he could worm his way back into her good graces with a bouquet of flowers and box of chocolates, he was sadly mistaken. On that thought, Laura stuffed the flowers into the disposal, turning it on and smiling grimly as they were washed away. Her attention turned to the box of chocolates. Lifting the lid, she picked one up, intending to toss them into the disposal, one at a time. But her hand stilled in mid air. Why trash perfectly good chocolate? She wondered, stuffing it into her mouth instead.
She closed her eyes, savoring the creamy texture of chocolate and nougat center, only to open them as the telephone rang. Not thinking, she picked it up. "'ewo?" she managed around the candy. "Oh, excuse me," a man said. "I must have the wrong number." Click! Laura returned the telephone to the cradle quickly. Even after twelve years, she recognized that soft voice. When it rang again, she headed toward the living room, allowing the answering machine to pick it up this time. "Laura? Are you there?" He sounded tired, she thought. And a bit uncertain. A sigh. "Listen, we need to talk. It's-eight fifteen. I'll be at Joe's Coffee Shop on Galivan until eleven." She sat down heavily, amazed by his assumption that she would jump to see him again. It was bad enough that he had probably compromised Mildred on this case- now he wanted to compromise her as well. No way was she going to give him that chance. No way in hell. She'd stay right here- have a light dinner, do some paperwork, and have an early night . . .
***
Harry sat in the back booth, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee as he watched the door. Glancing at his watch, he sighed. Nearly eleven and still no sign of Laura. Lifting his hand, he signaled for the waitress to bring his check. Might as well go back to the hotel, put the final touches on his plan, then get some sleep before tomorrow, he decided. He nodded at the young Hispanic maintenance man as he unlocked his hotel room door. The young man nodded in return then headed toward the employee elevators around the corner. Harry didn't bother to turn on the light beside the door. The darkness of the room seemed to suit his mood. He removed his jacket, dropping his key onto a nearby table as the light on the desk was turned on. "You wanted to talk?" Laura asked.
***
Tony Roselli entered his dingy little hotel room and went to the bath to run some water over his face before looking at his reflection in the cracked mirror above the sink. One of these days, they'd send him somewhere that didn't require his staying in a dive like this. The telephone's strident ring sent him to sit on the side of the sagging bed. "Hello?" "You told me to keep an eye on the lady in Los Angeles, Tony?" Recognizing the voice, Tony frowned. "Yeah. Has something happened to her?" "Depends on what you mean. She's in a hotel room at the Wilshire Arms," his informant told him. "With someone by the name of Harry Chalmers." Tony sat up. "Chalmers?" "Yeah. Tall dude, got an accent- English." "Dark hair? Blue eyes?" "Yeah. You know the guy?" "Yeah," Tony said, wishing he had some whiskey to wash the bitter taste out of his mouth. "I know him." Damn. "Look, Carlos, keep an eye on her, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can finish things up here." He hung up, then dialed another number. "Yeah, it's me. I need someone to come and finish this one. Personal reasons. Look, don't give me that. You people owe me big time and you know it. Now get someone down here pronto or you can kiss this one goodbye." He slammed the receiver down angrily, then went to find his battered suitcase. Might as well start packing. He had to get back to LA to stop Laura from making a mistake. If he wasn't too late already.

***

There was silence in the room as Harry looked at Laura. She was thinner than she had been- her voice a bit deeper, perhaps. "I thought we were supposed to meet at the coffee shop," he said, forcing himself to keep calm. He glanced around the room. "I suppose you've searched the room." Laura remained where she was as he sat down in one of the chairs. "I won't deny it. I'm on a case, remember? It's something I do for a living." "Umm," he murmured. "And very capably, by all accounts." "I can't just let you steal those gems and destroy everything I've worked for these last twelve years." "I'll give you the same promise now as I did once before," he told her, his blue eyes on hers. "I won't touch the gems until they're out of your custody." He saw the distrust in her eyes. "I didn't lie to you then, Laura. And I won't now." "And once you have the jewels?" she asked quietly. "What then?" "I'll leave you to continue your life as before with barely a ripple to disturb the smooth surface." He paused before adding, "That is, - unless you would prefer that I stay." "I'm sure you've got someone waiting for you back in London, or Cannes," Laura said, and Harry wondered if she realized how much she revealed with that statement. "A chemin de fer dealer, perhaps? Or Felicia?" Laura frowned as his features darkened, revealing a sadness that surprised her. "Felicia's dead. Cancer." "I'm- sorry--Harry," she said slowly. "I didn't know." "It's okay. I didn't expect you to know. After all, she was MY friend, not yours." Laura winced at the harsh tone. She knew he'd kept up on her- she'd found the scrapbook in his nightstand with clippings about her career since he'd left. There had even been a few clippings about Frances and Donald's children's accomplishments- Danny's being accepted to Harvard, for example. "Mildred- Mildred tells me that you finally found out your name." He shrugged. "It was relatively easy, once I knew who my father was. Of course, if Daniel had been using another name, I still would have hit a brick wall, but I was lucky." "Where did you go after you- left?" "London. Back to the flat Daniel kept there. But I knew that if you DID look for me, it would be one of the first places you'd search. So I sold it and went to Ireland to find my birth certificate. That's when I started using the name Harry Chalmers. And it's the only name I've used except in the line of duty for twelve years." "In the line of duty?" Laura repeated. "You make what you do sound like it's a service. Or a legitimate business endeavor. No matter HOW you slice it, it's STILL theft." "Technically, perhaps. But once people are desperate enough to come to me, they don't much care how I retrieve their goods. Or anything else." He smiled that little half smile that she remembered so well. "I remember once I got a call from a grief-stricken father in Rome- his only daughter had run off with a con man, and Papa wanted me to bring her back. Promised me a kings ransom if I managed it." "Did you?" He sat forward, hands between his knees. "I caught up with them, drug her home. You would have thought her worried father would have welcomed her with open arms, hugging her, kissing her welcome." "But he didn't?" "He never said a word, just gave me my check, and then slapped his daughter so hard that she collapsed onto the floor." Laura gasped in shock. He shook his head. "Care to guess what I did?" "Took the money and ran?" she said. "Still thinking the worst of me, eh?" he commented. Actually, I grabbed the man by his collar, gave him a right hook, then tore the check into tiny pieces and threw it in his face. Then I grabbed the girl and took her back to her con man. At least he didn't hit her." Laura sat down across from him. "Oh. I guess you found someone else? Got married?" "No." "Why not?" "Never found anyone else I wanted to be married to," he said softly. "What about you?" "Me?" "I know you've never married- just wondering why." "Oh, too busy with the agency. You know me, chronic workaholic." "Hmm. Some things never change, eh?" he asked, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Such as your penchant for trying to steal the Royal Lavulite." "I told you, Laura, I'm not STEALING it, I'm RETRIEVING it. There's a difference." "Stop splitting hairs, Harry." "Ask anyone who knows, Laura. It's a thriving business. Believe it or not, I'm actually a respected businessman in certain places in Europe. It isn't often that I even handle a case myself anymore. Usually I send an operative out on a job. But there was no way I could trust this one to anyone else." "An operative? Trusted businessman? I'm afraid my imagination won't stretch quite THAT far, Harry," Laura said, rising and starting to walk past him. "Forget this one, Harry. You're NOT getting your hands on those gems. I'll stop you." Harry grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. "How? By turning me in to the police? Aren't you afraid someone might recognize me from when I was Remington Steele? How do you think THAT would affect your precious agency? Hmm?" Laura tried to pull her arm away, but he held it tightly. "Let me go!" she cried out. "Not yet," he said, as he rose to his feet, pulling her closer, more fully into his arms. "Not until I find out if those lips are still as sweet as I remember them to be." She went still as he lowered his head, willing herself not to respond to the feel of his lips moving on hers, his hands on her skin. The scent of his expensive cologne filled her lungs. But it was a losing battle. It had been too long since she'd felt like this with a man. Even Tony, whose kisses had come closer than anyone else, hadn't been able to touch her the way this man could. Slowly, her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders to bury themselves in the thick hair on the back of his head. The slight stubble on his chin lightly scratched her face, bringing to life nerve endings that had been dormant for twelve years. When the kiss ended, Laura looked up into those questioning blue eyes and pulled his head back down to hers. Harry lifted her into his arms and carried her through to the bedroom of the suite, kicking the door closed behind them . . .