"I don't believe we've ever met before," Remington said once he had been taken into what he assumed was Harmon's study and pressed into a chair before the man's desk. "I'm sure I would have remembered."
Harmon tossed Remington's wallet and ID onto the desk between them. "You're a friend of Daniel Chalmers. And if he's as good a friend as the newspapers imply, he'll turn himself over to me to save your hide." The man's hawk-like dark eyes glittered in the dim lighting. He reached over and opened a wooden box. "Cigar?" he offered, tipping the box toward Remington.
Remington sat forward, noting that Hank and Carl, the former of which had a nasty bruise appearing on his jaw, both tensed and placed their hands on their guns. Remington glanced up at them, then took the offered cigar before sitting back in the leather chair, to all appearances relaxed and unconcerned. He sniffed the cigar and nodded appreciatively. "Nice."
"I have a friend in Havana," Harmon told him, nodding toward Carl. The guard pulled a lighter from his pocket and held it before Remington. There was silence in the room as the two men savored the taste of the fine tobacco.
"What makes you think that Daniel Chalmers and I are friends, Harmon?" Remington asked.
Harmon opened a drawer and pulled out a news photo of Remington, Daniel, and Laura, sliding it across the wide expanse of his desk toward Remington. "Look pretty cozy to me. And the accompanying article mentions that you've known him several years."
"As a source, perhaps," Remington said with a shrug, eyeing the end of the cigar with interest. "He's what's known in the business as a snitch. I barely know him personally."
"Then what are you doing in England? My sources tell me that you've been trying to find Chalmers for several days."
"He had some information I'd bought and paid for- only he'd been avoiding my attempts to contact him."
"So you came all the way to England to visit a snitch," Harmon said, his beady eyes narrowing into slits in his thin face. "So there's no- connection between Chalmers and yourself other than business?"
"None whatsoever," Remington assured the man smoothly, looking about for an ashtray in which to tap the ash from the cigar. "Daniel Chalmers is a - moderately successful con man with visions of grandeur." Another nod from Harmon, and Carl leaned forward to pick up an ash tray. "His assistance in that matter last year was strictly a one time affair. He'd gotten in over his head, and when I came along offered to help me if I would help him get out alive."
"Sounds like Chalmers," Harmon commented. "I know he's at Dr. Martindale's, Steele. My men assured me that they had taken care of him- but-"
"The man's like a cat," Remington told him. "He's got nine lives."
"Well, he's just used up eight, then," Harmon declared. He sat back in his chair. "What do you say to helping me give the gentleman his just reward, Steele, hmm?"
Remington pretended to consider the idea. "Old question, but- what's in it for me?"
Harmon smiled grimly. "You get to keep your life. Go back to Los Angeles and forget any of this ever happened."
Remington smiled, hoping he didn't look as nervous as he felt. "Harmon, I can't believe that you'd be so gung ho to get Chalmers. He's small potatoes. If you're worried about your reputation- I'm sure that the mere fact that you caught Chalmers at his game in time is enough to make other quite wary of making the same mistake."
Harmon studied Remington through the smoke of his cigar. "Clear the room, boys," he said, never taking his dark gaze from Remington.
"Boss?" Hank questioned, drawing Harmon's gaze.
"I said go. Mr. Steele and I have some- private business to discuss."
"But-" Those dark eyes narrowed again, and Remington hid his smile as Hank gulped loudly. "Com'on, Carl. We'll be in the hall, Boss," he promised, rubbing his bruised chin as he glared at Remington.
Remington waited for the door to close before speaking again. "Chalmers took you, didn't he?"
"You're good, Steele."
Remington shrugged off the old compliment. "You wouldn't be expending this much time and energy on him if he hadn't. What did he do? Foist a forged Old Master off on you?"
"Not- quite," Harmon said. He pulled a small black pouch from his vest pocket, then tossed it in Remington's direction. Remington caught it easily. From the heft and feel, Remington thought he knew what Daniel had done, and silently berated his father for being so stupid as to think he could pull it off with Harmon. Harmon began to talk again. "My business isn't easy, Steele. Trying to make a living in the world today- currencies being what they are- well, some time ago, I decided to start converting some of my more liquid funds into items more likely to stand the test of time. Gold, rare gemstones. Somehow, Chalmers found out about it, and set me up."
Sitting forward, Remington opened the pouch and tipped the contents onto the desk. The six perfectly cut diamonds glittered in the light from the desk lamp. But something didn't look quite-right about them, Remington thought. He was about to pick one up to study when Harmon said, "Let me give you a hint, Steele." Pulling one of the gems closer, he brought his fist down on top of it. Remington wasn't surprised to see only dust when Harmon lifted his hand.
"Paste," he commented, then moved to inspect one of the gems anyway. "Good paste, but still paste. How much did you give him?"
"Two million pounds. He wanted more, kept saying that the seven gems were worth three times that amount."
"They would have been if they were real," Remington pointed out. "Flawlessly cut, two carats each,-"
"He 'let' me talk him down to two million," Harmon recalled. "The thing is, the first gems he showed me- they were real. I'd stake my reputation on it."
"Looks as though you did just that," Remington commented.
"When I realized what he'd done, I sent the boys after him. I told them to bring him back here before doing anything. But- boys will be boys and, they- got a little rambunctious. Chalmers managed somehow to escape. If he was wounded as I was led to believe, he would have died quickly. I thought we'd find his body the next day and get my property back- but there was no sign of Chalmers in the area when they went back to look."
"So you put out a reward for information as to where he might be," Remington mused. Seeing Harmon's surprised look, he said, "Chalmers isn't my only source."
"Hank was sure that he shot Chalmers at least once- if not twice- yet *my* source informs me that he's at Dr. Martindale's."
"Your source is certain of that, is he?" Remington hedged, inspecting the faux diamonds yet again.
"He was seen on the grounds with a woman. Walking about as if nothing had happened."
That gave Remington pause, but he hid it in his examination of the gems. Someone had seen Laura out with Nathan, most likely, and -with the resemblance,- had mistaken him for his brother. His gaze fell to the newspaper photo and Laura- and he wondered what she was making of his sudden disappearance. Did they know he'd been kidnapped? Or did she think he'd simply taken off again?
"You in, Steele?" Harmon asked, getting his attention as he placed a gun on the desk. "Or out?"
Remington eyed the gun, and then smiled. "In, of course. I can always find another snitch. What did you have mind?"
***
Laura used the flashlight in her hand to inspect the area in which Nathan had discovered Remington's cuff-link. "See anything?" Jarred asked her, holding another flashlight.
"Mostly your and your father's footprints," she told him in a grim tone.
"What are you looking for?" he asked, following her.
"I don't know. Something. Anything that might confirm-"
"You're not certain that Uncle Daniel's right, are you?" Jarred questioned, turning his torch toward her face. "You think Remington took off on his own."
"It's a possibility," Laura admitted slowly. "I'd just like some kind of proof otherwise. A footprint-" she put an arm out to keep Jarred from disturbing the soil in front of them. "Something like this."
"Like what?"
She turned this way and that, checking out her theory. "These cigarette butts," she said, showing him the scattered butts of at least ten cigarettes. "There wouldn't normally be that many of these here- unless someone had been out here, watching the garden - and the house."
"Then that proves Remington was kidnapped, doesn't it?"
"I'd say so," Laura agreed, and then turned toward the house.
"Where are you going?" Jarred asked, struggling to keep up with her power walk- even with his long legs.
"I need to talk to Daniel."
***
"Get back into bed, Daniel," Nathan was saying as Laura entered the room. "You're not going anywhere."
"Harry's my son, Nate," Daniel said. "Wouldn't you do whatever was necessary if *your* son were in danger?"
"Nathan's right, Daniel," Laura said, coming over to the bed. "You won't do your son or anyone else any good if you collapse.
"I feel much better," Daniel insisted, wincing as he placed a hand to his bandaged chest. "Did you find anything?"
"I think so. Nothing that can help, but- and you're not better. You were shot three times, Daniel. You nearly died. Now listen to your doctor and lie down."
Daniel went still, obviously hearing the determination in her tone, and lay down with a long-suffering sigh. "I can't understand why Harry puts up with your heavy-handedness, Linda," he commented.
"What did you find?" Nathan asked.
"Someone was sitting on the road near the garden for some time, watching the house," she said. "I found a pile of cigarette butts out there."
"Then they know I'm here," Daniel sighed. "And they have Harry."
"I'm calling the authorities," Nathan decided, moving toward the telephone on the stand next to the bed.
"I wouldn't, Nathan," Laura cautioned, causing him to pause mid-reach. "Once they get involved, Daniel will end up in prison for running another con- and Harmon will likely kill Remington. No," she said, shaking her head and pacing across the room. "We have to find another way." She turned suddenly and confronted Daniel. "I want you tell me everything you know about Harmon, Daniel. Beginning with where he lives."
Daniel eyed her warily. "You're not going in there to try and get him out, Laura," he said. "That would be suicide. Harry would never forgive me-"
"And you want to see how long it takes *me* to forgive if something happens to *him*, Daniel? Just give with the information. For starters, where does he live?"
Daniel gave her the address, and Laura looked toward Nathan when he whistled softly. "You know the neighborhood?" she asked.
"It's one of London's better districts. I told you that a good many of my patients are well to do, if you recall."
"This man - this criminal mastermind lives in one of London's ritziest areas and the police just let him go?" Laura questioned.
"He has - connections, my dear," Daniel informed her. "Very high connections. Some say all the way into Scotland Yard itself."
She shook her head and dove ahead. "Any family?"
"No. He's unmarried. I saw at least ten guards on duty at any one time- including the two who came after me and left me for dead."
"Do you think you could draw a diagram of Harmon's estate and house, Daniel?" Laura asked.
"A diagram?" he repeated. "You *are* planning on doing something foolish, aren't you? Laura-"
She turned to Nathan. "Do you have some paper and a pencil around here?"
"In my office, Nathan told her. "I'll go and get it."
"Laura, I feel that I simply must talk some sense into you. You might be the best at what you do- but attempting to take Harmon on his own turf is pure insane."
"I don't have much choice, Daniel, thanks to you."
"To me?"
"If you hadn't decided to pull that *con* on someone like Jason Harmon, you wouldn't have gotten hurt- and Remington wouldn't have come here- and his life wouldn't be in danger at this very moment. And *I* wouldn't have to risk *my* life to save him."
Daniel sighed, and Laura immediately regretted her harsh words. "You're right. It's my fault. I suppose deserve your rancor," he admitted. "I'll make it up to you, Laura. You- and to Harry. I give you my word."
Laura placed her hand over his as Nathan returned with some paper, a pencil and a clipboard. "Here you go."
"Harmon's estate and house?" Daniel clarified.
"That's right," Laura told him, watching Nathan as he attended to monitoring the IV and other equipment beside Daniel's bed. "Where's Maeve?" she asked.
"I sent her up to bed," Nathan explained. "She was rather upset. Carol's sitting with her."
Laura nodded as Daniel held out the clipboard for her to look at. "It's the best I can do on short notice," he told her.
She glanced at his sketching. "So that's where Remington gets his artistic ability."
"Daniel was always sketching things when we were young," Nathan told her.
"And Father was always belittling me for it," Daniel reminded his brother. In response, Nathan shook his head and went to the window. "The main entrance is too well guarded to get into without an invitation."
"Any other means of access?"
"Nothing with any degree of success," he told her. "It's an armed camp."
Laura studied the map. "Then I'll just have to go in the front door, won't I?"
"Laura, Harmon's not going to simply release Harry on your say so. He wants me. We'll both go."
"You're not going anywhere, Daniel," Nathan said, causing Laura and Daniel to look at him. Slowly, he removed the black-rimmed glasses he wore. "I'll go in your stead."
"You'll never pull it off, Nathan," Daniel said. "He'll know you're not me."
"I can't let you take that risk, Nathan," Laura added. "I'm not sure what's going to happen-"
"Would you rather take him along?" Nathan asked, nodding toward Daniel. "He's might be my brother, but he's still my patient. And he's simply not up this yet."
"Still-" Laura said, uncertain.
"Do you want to save Remington, Laura?"
"Of course I do?"
"And you, Daniel? Are you willing to lose your son now that he finally knows who you are?"
"Nate-"
"I'm going."
Laura looked at him, seeing something in him that she'd never really seen in his brother. He had an inner strength that surprised her. "Okay. But you'll have to follow my lead- and do everything I say. No questions."
"Excuse me-" Daniel said, trying to interrupt her.
"Daniel, we'll need to know everything about that con that you tried to run on Harmon if Nathan's going to pull this off."
"Well, about that, Laura-" Daniel began, grimacing.
Something in his voice warned Laura that she wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Yes, Daniel?"
"I did more than *try* to run a con on Harmon. I was successful."
"How much, Daniel?" Laura asked.
"Well,-"
"How much?"
"Two million pounds." Nathan groaned softly
"Two-million-pounds?" Laura repeated slowly. "What on earth did you sell him? The Brooklyn Bridge?"
"Give me *some* credit, Laura. I haven't tried that con in-" he stopped as Laura moved closer. "Diamonds. Only- the ones I left him with were paste. When he discovered he'd been taken, he sent two of his enforcers after me. I barely escaped with my life."
"And you led them right to my front door," Nathan said. "Oh, Daniel."
"Okay," Laura said, putting her anger aside. It wasn't going to help Remington at the moment. "Tell us everything you can about the scam, Daniel. And remember, the smallest detail could help us save Remington's life."