Bloody hell, he thought. Forget the drinks. I’d better find out what the devil is going on before I lose her. He began to make his way to their table. With an "at ease, chaps" to the stoic bodyguards, he approached their table, to hear Laura’s tinkling laugh and observe the stranger’s wide, white-toothed grin and the red rose beside his hand.
"Ah, Miss Holt, there you are," he said in a brave attempt to be casual. Somehow, he didn’t think he was succeeding with his usual grace, since the aforementioned bodyguards were gripping their ears and muttering to themselves, moving toward the table. The man waved at them, and they slowly retreated, leaving the three of them to themselves. A slight tug on his collar, Remington flashed the man a big smile,and addressed Laura, "Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?"
Laura glared at his word choice but recovered quickly, smiling over-brightly. "Omar Khalifa, Remington Steele," she stated, with a wave of her hand.
"It is an honor, Mister Steele. It is quite the man indeed who can groom such a lovely and intelligent associate," he said, kissing Laura’s hand.
Laura blushed, as Remington stifled his rage into a curt, "Yes. Quite."
Laura, sensing the mounting tension, began to babble, desperate to avoid a scene. "Mr. Khalifa-"
"Omar," he interrupted with a smile.
"Omar has decided to enlist the agency’s help in recovering what is known as the Jewel of the Nile, one of his country’s most precious possessions."
"My people are very devout, Mr. Steele. To have lost such a symbol of my nation’s religion is catastrophic."
"Omar is willing to considerably invest in the agency if the Jewel can be found," Laura added triumphantly.
"And what are the conditions of the agreement?" Remington asked warily, sitting down at the table and tapping his fingers together, creating his business veneer.
"We’re still in discussion…" began Laura but Omar interrupted her.
"I would like Laura Holt to head the investigation."
Remington raised an eyebrow. What is this man up to? he thought. Instead of voicing his jealousy and concern for his associate, getting an altogether greasy feel of this Omar, he responded as was expected of his character. Conceited and chauvinistically. "Why?"
"Is she not competent? One of your best operatives?" Omar asked knowingly, referring to Remington’s recent words of praise in his speech.
"Yes, er, very. But why a woman? Are there not restrictions in your country for those of the, er, fairer sex?"
"Ah!" Omar said happily. This guy is really laying it on thick, Remington thought. I’ve known better con men when I was eight. "Because she is a woman, that is what makes her more valuable! No one in my country expects a woman to be anything other than a mother and housewife. This way, the utmost secrecy can be maintained. That is why I come to your agency- discretion is your trademark."
"And Remington Steele’s word is his bond," Remington said quietly. "Well, Miss Holt, it’s up to you," he said with a sigh, shooting Laura an intense look.
When she responded by averting her eyes to her intertwined fingers, Remington knew he had lost. No Greece. She was going to go after the Jewel. And there was nothing he could do to stop her. Sighing again, he rose from the table, making polite excuses and left the banquet room. He needed air. Lots and lots of air.
Laura watched his retreating form with regret. It wasn’t fair to him to leave it at that.
"See, I told you that he would approve," said Omar with a grin.
Only half-listening to him, she rose as if to follow Remington. "Excuse me, please."
"But, Laura Holt, will you take the case?"
Annoyed at the delay, she said quickly, "I’m taking it under consideration." Laura searched for Remington. He wasn’t at the bar or at their table. She didn’t know what to do. On the one hand, she really wanted to take this case and it was an extra bonus that a woman, not a man, was being chosen for such a massive undertaking. She would have thought that he would have only deigned to talk to Mr. Steele alone but he seemed completely disinterested in the man with the million dollar smile and namesake. All he did was compliment me, thought Laura. It was cheesy, really. Not nearly as good as Remington’s but not quite so bad as Vittrion Junior’s come-ons.
On the other hand, what was she to do about Mr. Steele? Leave him to run the agency for weeks straight? Handling clients? All by himself? Or god forbid, with Mildred’s assistance? It would be a marvel if the office remained standing.
If Khalifa invested in the agency, they could buy the whole damn building.
Where the hell was he? Laura scanned the dance floor in vain. She decided that she needed some fresh air before she faced Omar again. The man might be handsome but good heavens, how he smelled! As if he had dumped truckloads of cheap cologne onto each and every cotton fold. Ick. Not nearly as intoxicating as some people’s aftershave…
Then, as if on cue, he materialized from behind a potted plant on the hotel’s open air porch.
"There you are," Laura said playfully.
"Am I to assume that the Great Detective has found something she’s been looking for?" he drawled.
Taking offense, she quickly leapt to the defense of their new client. "This could mean a great deal to the agency. Think of the publicity! It’s a golden opportunity!"
"You’re going then?" he asked in a dangerously quiet voice.
Laura didn’t know what to make of that voice- and that tone, so filled with weary bitterness that it nearly tore her heart in two. In kind, she replied, "Yes. It’s for the best. Really."
"Whose best?"
"The agency’s…and ours. All of this togetherness… it has been wonderful but maybe we just need some time, some space…to think it through…."
"It’s always the same old song with you, isn’t Laura? Anything for the agency, anything to keep everyone and everything at a distance!" he exploded.
"I do not…!"
"YES, you DO. Every time I get close, you push me away. Every time we make headway in this crazy relationship of ours, you get scared and you throw yourself into any work you can find. And that’s exactly what you’re doing now! Without any consideration as to how it’s going to effect anyone else!"
Horrified at how accurate his analysis of her was and incredibly pissed off that he had the nerve to say it, Laura countered, " And all you want to do is go to Greece!"
"Lauraaaa…"
Rubbing her forehead in frustration, she held up her hand. "I’m taking the case. I should think that you would be happy for me and would be flattered that I would leave the agency in your hands during my absence."
Remington could think of nothing to say. That she would trust him with her life’s work left him mildly stunned and filled with regret over his angry words. Still, jealousy nagged at his heart and pride reigned.
"So that’s that, then," he said simply.
"That’s that."
"When do you leave?"
"Tonight. Omar has a private jet…" she trailed off, making motions towards the banquet room.
"Omar has a private jet," he softly repeated. "And I only pretend to have one." After an awkward pause, he continued, " I’ll call you?"
"Where? It’s not like there’s a telephone at every watering hole."
"So I guess this is goodbye."
"Guess so."
Just then, one of Khalifa’s bodyguards approached them and with a click of his heels, addressed Laura: "Sheik Omar will have you get your personals now Laura Holt."
"Oh. Yes. Tell him I’ll be there in a minute," she said with a sigh. Facing Remington once more, she was dying to make this easier, to somehow make the pain in his face go away. "I, um, have to go."
"I guess the problems of two little people don’t amount to a hill of beans either," he said jokingly, but there was no joviality in his voice. "I’ll miss you, Laura Holt." Giving her a quick peck on the lips, he turned and walked away towards the parking lot.
Faintly, as she watched him walk away, she replied, "I’ll miss you, too."
With a sigh, she returned to the banquet room with the bodyguard. Omar kept insisting that she ride with him in the limo instead of driving her Rabbit back to the loft. After a half-hearted argument, she capitulated. She seemed as if in a haze, still a bit shell-shocked from her conversation with Remington. It really seemed like goodbye. Their last goodbye.
As she morosely walked with Omar and his bodyguards to the awaiting limo outside, there was a commotion from the bushes. A man, his arm raised with a large knife, rushed at them, screaming "El d’Jahra!" He thrust the knife into Omar’s chest, causing him to fall backwards into the outstretched arms of one of his bodyguards, as the others attempted to restrain the man. Laura, supporting Omar with one arm, guided him into the limo as she watched the assailant run off, several bodyguards in pursuit.
In the limo, Laura proceeded to assess Omar’s injuries. He merely responded by restraining her shaking hands by clasping them in his and grinning. "Ah! It’s alright. It’s alright!"
"You’re not hurt?" she asked, confused.
"No, no, no. Do not worry, Laura Holt. I am a man of vision," he said, bearing his chest to reveal chain mail underneath. "Not everyone appreciates that," he added darkly.
"Have there been any other attempts on your life?" she inquired.
"Some. It is foolish really. When I am announced as the rightful leader of the people, they will mend their ways. I cannot have my nation terrorized by radicals, Laura Holt. That is why you must find the Jewel. It is the only way to subdue most of their superstitious followers."
"I see," she murmured, looking out the window. Admittedly, her thoughts were not on the case and she was surprisingly calm about the attack. She instead was consumed with thoughts of Mr. Steele. Was she doing the right thing? She could only hope so. As she was trusting in him to make sure the business ran smoothly in her absence, as she was trusting him to stay while she was leaving, she hoped against hope that he would trust her to return and to not disregard their feelings for one another. She hated being the cold fish all the time. Practical Laura. Scared Laura. The one who always kept him at a distance because it was safer that way. Easier. The problem was nothing in their relationship had been easy. Between his mysterious past and her own dizzying array of feelings for him that ran the gamut from utter disgust to the most passionate of love, it had always been a muddle. A mystery. One that she could never, ever solve. Some great detective. She sighed. Omar didn’t seem to notice- he was still smiling at his narrow escape and continued to grin all the way to the loft.
***
Remington never noticed his ears burning. He was too drunk. He had ordered Fred back to his apartment and had opened up a bottle of Glen Livet that he had been saving for their bon voyage to Greece. Half of it was gone. It was a sad state of things, he thought. Reduced to this. Alone, drunk, and watching Casablanca for the 206th time. Like a depressed schoolgirl who’s not been asked to the prom. How could a woman do this to him? He was always a ladies man, had them in and out of his bed before they could say "Jack Robinson." But Laura was his pitfall. Four years and an infinite amount of charm and winning smiles had refused to move her any further than their first memorable meeting in the restaurant, swapping innuendoes and undressing one another with their eyes only. And now she was leaving. It seemed like it was for good. That she would never come back. Sure, he knew that if Laura made a promise, she would keep it but something in that farewell had been so final, so absolute. The masquerade was over and now the previously inseparable team of Steele and Holt would be no more. Remington got more and more despondent by the minute.
"What have you made me fit for?" He echoed Audrey Hepburn’s lines to the silent apartment. Then dictated: "My Fair Lady. Rex Harrison, Audrey Hepburn. 20th Century Fox, 1964."
"Where shall I go? What shall I do?" he cried out to the images of Bogart and Bergman. "Gone With the Wind. Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh. MGM, 1939. Laura’s favorite." The last words slurred together as emotion overtook him.
I am nothing without Laura. She has made me who I am. Who I have always wanted to be. I can’t let this go. Not without a fight, he silently determined. Awkwardly grabbing his coat, he dialed Fred and asked him to meet him out front ASAP.
***
Laura finished packing up her suitcases and was descending the stair from her bedroom. She stopped by the end table at the stair’s base and picked up the picture frame resting on it. It was a picture of her and Mr. Steele, their arms intertwined, each about to sip from a bubbling champagne flute. She felt her cheeks get warm and felt a stinging sensation in her eyes. Placing the photo down, she told Omar that she was ready to leave.
Traffic was unusually heavy that night. About three blocks from her loft, Remington told Fred to stop and got out of the limo and ran, filled with a sense of immediacy. He needed to stop Laura from going. He needed her to stay. He needed her, period. Goddamn the case, but he would not lose her! And certainly not to that charlatan Omar! Breathless, he finally reached her building only to see a limo in front, slowly beginning to merge with the oncoming traffic. Laura gazed out of the back window and raised a hand to the glass. They held each other’s gaze for as long as they could, staring intensely at one another, each mirroring the other’s soulful and sad look. The limo pulled away and Remington was left panting by the curb.
When Remington returned to the limo, Fred informed him that he had an urgent phone call. It was Mildred, and she sounded very upset.
"Oh, Boss! I’m so glad I caught you! Just as I was leaving, we got an urgent phone call from a client who needs to meet with you tonight! He said it was a matter of life and death! I couldn’t turn him down, chief. With a plea like that, who could?"
"Mildred, calm down. What is the client’s name?"
"Joe Smith."
"Joe Smith?" he repeated skeptically.
"I know it sounds phony, boss, but the guy sounded desperate. I think he was using an alias- he doesn’t trust the phones, I mean who can blame him?- that’s why he wants this meeting."
Remembering his promise to Laura, Remington asked, "When’s the meeting?"
"In an hour."
"Can you be there, Mildred? I may need some….backup."
"O boss…I’m so flattered. I don’t know what to say!" she said happily.
"I’ll see you in an hour, then."
"You can count on me, sir."
Remington met Mildred in the lobby of the building. They took the elevator up together. The eerie quiet of the building late at night was completely lost on her- babbling like a giddy schoolgirl at her first chance to exclusively assist the boss with a case.
As she expressed her gratitude, Remington placated her with a weak smile. "Yes, well, for the next few weeks you’ll be doing lots of assisting. Maybe even get your own case."
"Really? Oh do you really think so? This is so sudden! So wonderful! You and Miss Holt are the greatest you know that?" Suddenly aware that Laura was no where to be seen, she inquired after her.
"Big case, Mildred. Very hush-hush," he said wearily, as the elevator doors opened and they proceeded down the hallway to their offices.
Distrusting Steele’s lame explanation and seeing his disheveled and tired appearance, she knew something was wrong. Whatever happened between her kids this morning was still not resolved. And now they weren’t even working on the same cases together. This was definitely not good. And that was the Understatement of the Year.
As they were about to approach the agency’s doors, a man came rushing at them down the hallway. He looked foreign, had wild, long black hair streaming in every direction and wore clothes that bore the mark of a man on the run. It was the would-be assassin of Omar. He stopped the pair in front of the doors.
"Steele! Steele! You must come with me! You must come with me now!" he shrieked, grabbing Remington’s sleeve and tugging at it.
"Excuse me, sir, but are you Joe Smith?" he said, plucking the man’s fingers from his jacket.
"If he is, I’m a monkey’s uncle," muttered Mildred, eyeing the man with disgust. "Beat it, bozo, we have some real detective work to do here." She went to the door to unlock it. Pulling, the doors refused to open. Turning the key the other way and giving a shove, the door swung into the office. "I could of sworn I’d locked this when I left…." Glaring at the wild man, she said, "Who the hell do you think you are, buster? Oh, you’re gonna get it. You’re gonna get it but good. They’re gonna lock you up and throw away the key!"
She was about to dial the police when the man stopped her. "Infernal woman! Stop! I need Steele to come with me. We must stop Omar!"
Hearing the name and reevaluating the man’s swarthy appearance, Remington realized he was telling the truth.
"Stop Omar? Stop Omar from doing what?"
Mildred watched the exchange with wide eyes, still not taking her hand from the receiver. As long as the boss knew what was going on….
"The Jewel. The Jewel of the Nile. He has stolen it from our people and now he plans to rule as a tyrant."
Raising his eyebrow at the man, Remington informed him that he had specifically hired the agency to find it. "Now why would he do that if he already had the Jewel in his possession? Hmmmm?"
"It is a lie. You were set up to fail. Omar is evil man, Steele. You must come."
"Sorry, mate, but I have a number of obligations here," he said remembering his promise to Laura. Yet something in the back of his mind knew this man was telling the truth. Remington himself knew that Omar wasn’t trustworthy when he met him at the party. And as Laura had often told him, there was validity in intuition and hunches.
"N-" as Remington was beginning to make more excuses and send the crazy man on his way, he noticed something by the doorway. It was a small box with flashing red lights arranged in a circle. And the lights were slowly dimming. A bomb.
"Get out! GET OUT!" he screamed, grabbing Mildred and throwing her to the door. All three of them ran out and down the hall. Seconds later, the blast shook the floor, leaving them in a crumpled heap at the end of the hallway.
Coughing in the smoke and slowly becoming drenched by the sprinkler system, they all stood up and brushed themselves off. No one was hurt, except for now unseen bruises.
"This is the work of Omar," the man said gravely. He turned to Steele. "He has your woman. He has done this," he said, gesturing to the debris that had been their office. "Now you must come."
Resolute and intently staring into space, Remington seethed with anger. He would have Laura back and he would make Omar pay for ruining everything she had worked so hard for. "Mildred," he said curtly. "Talk to the insurance people and the building managers. Hire some people to fix this. Then, get us some plane tickets and pack a suitcase."
"Where are we going, boss?"
"Africa."
To Part Three