ReJoined Steele

Part Ten

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When Laura woke, she smiled, stretched and turned over, only to find the bed empty. Frowning, she sat up, looking around the guestroom. Harry's jacket was still over the back of the chair, but there was no sign of him. Sliding from beneath the sheet, she picked up her robe and pulled it on, going to the door.

Once in the hallway, she could hear him talking in a quiet voice, and wondered who else was there. Following the sound, she stopped in the kitchen doorway, watching him at the stove as he talked on his cell phone. He was deftly preparing what had to be one of his mouth-watering omelets while holding the phone to his ear. "Jeannie. Have you heard from Jackie? . . . Excellent," he said, in a voice that revealed relief. "Uh, no, I haven't. Has he called again? . . . Did Marco finish that job in Hong Kong? . . .Okay. Track him down and bring him up to speed on this. He can handle it. Should be an easy-Yes, yes, I know. I'll call. I promise . . .Well, about that, I should be there in a few days," he told the woman on the other end of the phone. Laura was torn between fear and concern. He was planning on leaving again. Did she really want him to? "Can I ask you a question, Jeannie?" Harry said into the phone. "Have you ever considered moving to Los Angeles?" He held the phone away from his ear, and even Laura could hear the faint, angry tones of an Irish brogue as she released the breath she'd been holding. "Jeannie, calm down . . . Yes, I'm serious. Because I've decided to open an office here and transfer the day to day from Dublin-Yes. Yes, okay. Look can we at least discuss it? Okay." He turned off the burner of the stove. "Look, I have to go. Yes, I'll call him. Bye." He hung up and gave his attention to turning the omelet onto a plate.

As he turned to place it on the table, he saw that he wasn't alone. Smiling at her, he said, "Good morning." He watched her carefully, trying to gauge her mood. "I was going to bring you breakfast in bed," he told her, indicating the tray on the table. Why didn't she SAY something? He wondered.

"Are you really planning to stay in Los Angeles?" she asked.

Ah. She'd overheard his conversation with Jeannie. "I'm seriously considering it- unless I can convince you to move to Ireland. But since there's little or no chance of THAT," he said in a teasing voice as he concentrated on setting a place for her at the table, "I thought I'd stay around." His eyes met hers. "Would you mind? Having me around, I mean?"

Laura looked at him, then shook her head slowly. "No," she said slowly, and Harry heard the reservation in her tone.

"But-?" he finished.

Laura took a deep breath. If this was going to work, they had to be honest with each other. "I'd like nothing more than to have you back in my life," she admitted. "BUT-well," she paused, trying to find the best way to put it. "I've spent 12 years building the agency. Mildred, too. Remington Steele's return could seriously damage all of that hard work."

Understanding, Harry pulled her close. "If I do come back, Laura, I won't be Remington Steele again. That part of my life is over. I'm Harry Chalmers now. That's not to say that I'll be able to stay completely out of the agency's affairs, but I DO have a business of my own to run, remember? And the two dovetail quite nicely. There have a been a lot of times when I've wished I could call on you to locate an item that we've been hired to return."

Laura looked up at him. "Would you really do that? Rearrange your entire life just for me?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," he told her. "Besides, haven't you figured out that I'll do just about anything to make you happy?"

Laura slid her arms around his neck. "You could make me happy right now, you know."

"How?"

"By kissing me."

"Your wish is my command, love," he whispered as his lips met hers. He was seriously considering postponing breakfast and carrying her back to the bedroom when the telephone on the counter rang. He sighed. "Some things never change, eh?" he asked as he picked up the receiver and handed it to Laura.

"Hello?" she said, watching Harry finish putting breakfast on the table.

"Laura, have you heard from Chalmers this morning?" Tony asked.

"No, no, Tony, I haven't heard from him," she lied, meeting Harry's inquisitive gaze. "Why?"

"I was going to let him know that I'm in position at Hepplewhite's place. I called the hotel, they said he hadn't picked up his messages all night."

"Have you tried his cell phone?" she asked.

"I don't have the number."

"Let me see if I can find it," she told him, grabbing a piece of paper and pen and thrusting it toward Harry. When he frowned in confusion, she mouthed the word "cell phone".

"Laura? Are you all right?" Tony asked in a concerned voice.

"Yes," Laura assured him, impatiently waiting for Harry to hand her the slip of paper. "Here it is," she said, and gave him the number.

"Why do you have his cell phone number?" Tony asked, suspiciously.

"He gave it to Mildred and she gave it to me," she told him. "I'd call him before you go into see Hepplewhite. And if you can't reach him, let me know. He could be in trouble."

"Yeah," Tony agreed, and she could see his grim smile at that thought. "You think so?"

"Be careful, Tony," she said.

"I will." She hung up the phone as Harry pulled out the chair for her.

"Your breakfast is ready, milady," he said.

"What about yours?"

"In the oven, keeping warm," he told her, moving in that direction as his cell phone rang. "Chalmers here," he said.

"Where the hell are you, Chalmers?" Tony asked. "I'm sitting here outside Hepplewhite's place, waiting for someone to come down here and pick up this damn paper- have you seen it, yet?"

Harry picked up the folded paper from the counter and opened it to the photo of him and Laura. He handed it across to her as he told Tony, "As a matter of fact, yes, I have. Rather nice picture if I do say so myself. Nice couple, don't you agree?" He ignored the glare Laura sent him as she glanced up from reading the brief article.

"Not really. Where have you been all night? The hotel said you hadn't been in."

"Went back in the same way I came out," Harry explained. "Didn't see any sense in having to face the reporter that I'm sure was camped out waiting for me."

"I think someone's coming down to get the paper," Tony told him, and Harry could hear the sound of the car door opening. "You'll be at the airfield?"

"I'll be there," he told the other man.

"Watch your back," Tony told him. "Hepplewhite's not going to be any too pleased that you took him."

"Then it's a good thing that you're available to offer your-services to right that little wrong, then, don't you think, Antony?" Harry questioned.

"Gotta run," Tony said, and the line went dead.

Laura looked at Harry as he closed the telephone and returned it to the table. "I hope this plan works, Harry."

He took his breakfast from the oven and sat down across from her. "It will," he told her. "Damn," he muttered, picking up the phone again. "I promised Jeannie that I'd call a client who insists on dealing with me." He caught Laura's amused look. "As I said, some things never change."

***

Tony met one of Hepplewhite's bodyguards as he opened the gate. He held out the newspaper. "Looking for this, pal?" The man's hand moved toward the bulge beneath his jacket, but Tony shook his head, revealing the pistol hidden between the paper's folds. "I wouldn't if I were you. Take it out, kick it over here." He picked up the other man's weapon, and stuffed it into his belt. "I just want to talk to your boss. Let's go."

They walked up the drive toward the house, the bodyguard doing exactly as Tony directed him to do, smile and assure his comrades that everything was fine. Tony knew that once he was in the house, the man would summon his friends, but if things worked out right, Hepplewhite himself would call them off.

Tony let himself in via the front door, locking it behind him, hoping that it would give him a few extra moments. He glanced at the artwork on the walls, then stood in the foyer. "Mr. Hepplewhite!"

The butler appeared first, and Tony immediately saw the small bulge under the man's coat. "May I help you, sir?" he asked, his blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I'm here to talk to Mr. Hepplewhite," Tony informed him, "Thought I'd deliver his morning paper personally."

"I'm sorry, but unless you have an appointment," the butler began, but Tony brought his gun into view.

"I think he'll see me," Tony assured him. "From what I hear, he's not a man who likes being swindled."

"What's going on here, Morton?" Hepplewhite asked as he entered the foyer.

"A-gentleman to see you, sir," Morton informed him in a dry tone. "And he's MOST insistent."

The old man's eyes searched Tony's face. "You were Laura Holt's replacement chauffeur, weren't you?" he asked.

"Because I heard on the street that someone was going to make a go for the Lavulite," Tony told him. "Used my connections to get Holt's chauffeur out of the way so I could get close to the case. But not close enough. You've been swindled, Mr. Hepplewhite."

"Swindled?" the man repeated as the front door burst open and Tony heard several rifles and pistols being cocked behind him and above him. Tony raised the arm with the gun in it over his head as he held out the opened newspaper for the man to read. "Thought you'd be interested in this."

Hepplewhite took the paper with shaking hands. "Remington Steele?" he questioned. "The man who was here, Stuart James- he was in reality- Remington Steele?"

"In the flesh," Tony told him. "Look, Mr. Hepplewhite, I can help you give the guy what he deserves- IF you'll call off your goons. Look, without me, you'll never get close enough to him. He trusts me."

Hepplewhite lifted a hand. "Back to your posts," he ordered, then turned toward the gem room. "Bring him, Morton."

Tony holstered his gun and followed Hepplewhite, aware that Morton was close behind. In the room, Hepplewhite went to the case that contained the gems he'd received the day before, and turned off the alarm for the case before lifting it. "Morton, call Davis, have him come over immediately to authenticate them." Morton looked uncertain about leaving his employer alone with the intruder. "Go on. I seriously doubt Mr.-?"

"Roselli. Tony Roselli."

"That Mr. Roselli will do anything reckless." He waited for the door to close behind the butler. "If I were you, Mr. Roselli, I would hope that you're right about these gems being fakes. Because if they're not, you won't be leaving this house alive."

"Oh, they're fakes. I heard them talking after they left. But I couldn't do anything about it. Would have blown my cover. Steele dropped out of sight as soon as he left Holt at the hotel."

"And what was Miss Holt's part in this? She authenticated the gems herself."

"He played on their former relationship, broke down her defenses. Assured her that he wouldn't go after the gems. She likes to think she can tell a gemstone from a piece of glass, but she's not that good. He used her trying to show him up to his advantage. He's a louse, Mr. Hepplewhite, that needs to be taken care of."

"And what is your problem with Mr. Steele?"

"He's a fraud. Man made a fool of me- almost cost me my job a few years ago. I've been waiting for him to come back to LA for years. He decided to lay low for a day or so after that story hit the papers- but he's leaving town this morning."

Morton returned. "Mr. Davis is en route, sir. He should arrive momentarily."

"Excellent, Morton. Why don't you take our guest into the parlour and make him comfortable while I wait for Davis?" Hepplewhite suggested. "We'll finish our discussion once he's seen the gems," he told Tony. "I'll let Davis in when he arrives, Morton."

Tony followed a watchful Morton to the parlour, then sat down in the chair that the man indicated. "Worked for the old man long, Morton?"

"I have worked for MR. Hepplewhite since before he moved to Los Angeles," Morton answered.

"Did you know your boss was a former SS officer? That he would have been convicted of war crimes if he hadn't turned witness against bigger fish?"

"I'm fully aware of Mr. Hepplewhite's history, Mr. Roselli," Morton informed him. "My grandfather was his lieutenant."

"Oh. I see."

They heard the doorbell ring, and then heard Hepplewhite greet a nervous sounding man before leading him to the gem room. It was only a few minutes before he showed the man out again, and entered the parlour, his face paler than normal. But his light blue eyes were like chips of ice. "I want him, Mr. Roselli. Where can I find him?"

"Not so fast, Hepplewhite. We have to come to terms, first."

"Terms?"

"You want Steele-I can get him for you- but you'll never get him with these guys here. He'll smell a trap. Man's got a nose for trouble. I'm getting tired of working for the government. No respect- and the retirement benefits are a joke. Guess they don't figure guys like me will make it that long."

"You want me to pay you to find Steele and retrieve my property?"

"You paid Kessler and Neff to do it years ago."

"And they failed. I barely managed to silence them before they mentioned my name."

"Loyalty's expensive these days," Tony pointed out with a shrug.

"How expensive?"

"Half a mil- Surely it's worth that to get your hands on the man who made you look like a fool?" he asked, seeing the man's uncertainty. "AND a permanent job working for you. As your Head of Security. Anyone could get in this place. Those guys out there are laughable."

Morton's hand moved toward his gun again, but Hepplewhite lifted his to stop him. "He's right, Morton. Steele DID make me the fool in his little game. But we shall see who laughs last. Very well, Mr. Roselli. You shall have your money- and your job. But I don't want him killed- Not immediately. First, I want him to return what he stole from me."

"No problem," Tony assured him. "We'll have to go in my car-be ready when he arrives."

"WE?" Hepplewhite said.

Tony grinned. "Let's just say that I'd feel more secure if you were with me, Mr. Hepplewhite, and not back here, hatching some kind of plot to get rid of me once I deliver the goods."

Hepplewhite's smile turned his face into a grotesque death masque. "I do think we shall get along quite well, you and I, Mr. Roselli. Where is your car?"

To Be Continued>>>

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Original content ©1999 by Nancy Eddy