In the elevator of the quiet apartment building, Remington pulled out his key to Daniel's London flat. The three bedroom apartment in one of the city's better neighborhoods was a far cry from the tiny, two bedroom walk up they had shared years ago, he mused. Light, airy, impeccably decorated and furnished, it was the perfect place to "rest" between jobs.
As he approached the door, he reminded himself that the cab driver was waiting for him downstairs. So he'd drop off his case, then call Laura and let her know that he had arrived safely before going on to the hospital and charming his way in to seeing Daniel in the middle of the night. When he put the key into the door, Remington went still.
The door opened on its own, obviously already unlocked and not quite closed all the way. Caution made him reach out and flip on the light switch near the door, illuminating the disaster within…
Laura tossed the remainder of her salad into the trash and glanced at the clock. Barring any unforeseen delays, Mr. Steele had arrived in London an hour ago. Figuring getting through customs, and finding a cab to take him to the hospital, he was probably with Daniel at this very moment. Sitting back on the sofa, she idly wondered if English hospitals kept the same visiting hours as American ones. He should have called by now.
She forced her attention back to the report on the Davenport case that lay on the table before her-along with a stack of other case files that she was handling. "The price you have to pay for being so good at your job, Laura," she muttered, picking up the glass of wine that sat beside the folder. Of course, it wasn't all her- if it hadn't been for the "flashy front man" that had fallen into her life, then she'd probably still be scrounging for the rent money. And without Mildred's more than capable assistance, Laura didn't like to think where she and Remington would be.
Once more, she focused on the report, reading again her notes of how the robbery had probably taken place. Mrs. Davenport wasn't even sure who had set up the alarm system originally in the gallery- "Clyde handled all of that," she had insisted. And she had never had reason for it to be serviced- until today.
She jumped when the telephone rang, and grabbed the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hello."
"Finally decided to call, I see," was Laura's half teasing comment. "How's Daniel?"
"I'm- uh, not sure yet," Remington answered in a distracted tone. She could hear him moving around.
"What do you mean you're not sure? Aren't you at the hospital?"
"No. I-stopped off at Daniel's flat to call you and leave my case- the place looks as if a tornado went through it." She could hear his concern and confusion.
"Daniel's made a few enemies over the years, I'm sure-"
"Yes, of course. But until I talk to Daniel,-"
"How much longer do you think you'll be gone?"
"I'm not sure. Depends on what's GOING on, I think."
"We've got a case that I need information on that only YOU can provide," she told him.
"Really?"
"It involves a stolen Monet worth over a million dollars," she said, waiting for his reaction.
"A Monet?"
"It was stolen from inside a private gallery at the owner's home while she was gone. Entry was through a skylight in the ceiling. The alarm system was-" she heard him rummaging around. "Are you listening to me?"
"Hmm. Every word. Go on."
"What I need your expertise on is alarm systems. This one was installed over twenty years ago. Separate circuit from the rest of the house. It's set outside the gallery doors, and if the doors are opened, it goes off. The house wasn't broken into, only the gallery. The outside box for the alarm was opened and two wires were cut-yet the client didn't see anything amiss when she disarmed the system this morning upon her return to the house."
"Umm. What was the make of alarm?"
Laura glanced at the notes she'd made. "Grainger- yes, Grainger." She could see his mind working, pulling up bits of eclectic information on various alarm systems that he would have learned in circumventing so many over the years before he'd become Remington Steele.
"What color were the wires that were cut?"
"Red and green," Laura told him.
"Was the system set up to automatically alert the police?"
"No." She heard him moving some papers. "Mr. Steele?"
"Sorry. You say the client didn't notice anything out of the ordinary when she came in and disarmed the system?"
"No. It appeared to be working properly."
"That's it, then. The audible alarm and panel alert were disabled."
"What?"
"Whoever broke in cut the red wire, so that the alarm would go off, but no one would hear it, since the signal couldn't' get to the cut wire. And the green wire went to the control panel, where it would normally alert whoever was looking at it that the system had been breached."
"Then it was someone who knew the system."
"It was a standard system back then, Laura," Remington informed her, his tone still distracted by what he was doing. She heard a knock on the door. "Just a minute." He was back a second later. "Bloody hell. I forgot that I left the cab waiting downstairs."
"But Mr. Steele-"
"Look, I have to go. I'll call you as soon as I've talked to Daniel, okay?"
"But, it's the middle of the night there, isn't it? I mean, will they let you see him?"
"They'll let me see him," Remington said in a determined tone, "Or I'll tear the bloody hospital apart."
"But-"
"Listen, Laura, the longer I stay here, talking to you, the longer it's going to take me to get home."
"Okay. Be careful."
"Always." She could hear his grin through the phone line. "Well, almost always. Later."
"Later- Remington," she said, testing it out for the first time aloud, and wondering where that urge had come from.
"Say that again."
"Remington," she said again, with a bit more confidence.
"Damn," he murmured when the cab driver cleared his throat loudly. "I have to go. Bye."
The elderly woman, whose name tag revealed her name to be "Effie", smiled at him and then looked at her files. "It's well after visiting hours, sir. If you'll come back at nine-""
Remington smiled. "I've come from Los Angeles to see him," he explained. "Just got in. Can't we- bend the rules- just a bit?" he suggested. "I won't disturb him-"
Effie was no more immune to his charm than a twenty something would have been. She glanced at her paperwork. "I'm sorry, I don't have a listing for a Daniel Chalmers. Are you certain that he's here?"
"Yes," Remington said. "He was admitted into emergency yesterday-"
"Let me make a call," Effie said, picking up a telephone. "Yes, this is Effie at the desk- I have a gentleman here who's looking for a Daniel Chalmers- says he came into Emergency yesterday?…" her dark eyes flickered toward Remington, then away, giving Remington an uneasy feeling. "I see. Who was his doctor?…Is he?…Yes, I'll tell him." She hung up the telephone. "Dr. Marlowe saw Mr. Chalmers in the emergency room. He's on his way here to speak to you," she informed Remington. "If you'll wait over there," she said, indicating the waiting area across the hallway.
Remington nodded, his mind replaying her words on the telephone. "Who WAS his doctor?" she'd asked. Not who IS. Past tense. If only he and Laura hadn't been out to dinner and then an all night stake out when Chalky had left the first message about Daniel, he fretted. It had been nearly dawn this morning before he'd returned to the apartment and played back the tape on the machine. Oh, God, if he was too late-
"Excuse me?"
Remington turned quickly to find a white coated man standing there, a stethoscope dangling from his neck. "I'm Dr. Marlowe. And you are?"
"Remington Steele," he explained, shaking the physician's hand.
"You're looking for Daniel Chalmers?"
"Yes. I got a call late last night that he had been admitted here-"
"He was," Marlowe confirmed. "May I ask your relationship to Mr. Chalmers, Mr. Steele?"
Knowing that he would get more information as a relative than as a friend, Remington never hesitated before answering the question. "He's my uncle. The only family I have. Now where is he? What's going on, Doctor?"
"I wish I could tell you, Mr. Steele. Mr Chalmers came in here with a head injury. He'd obviously received a massive blow to the skull- a friend brought him in-"
"Chalky," Remington said.
"I believe that was the name," Dr. Marlowe confirmed. "This- Chalky said he'd found Mr. Chalmers unconscious and brought him here. We admitted him for observation, and when he woke up, tried to convince him that he wasn't ready to be released yet. He was still having episodes of vertigo- but he insisted that he had something take care of and walked out."
"Walked out? And you just let him go?"
"Not exactly, Mr. Steele. He waited until no one was about- He snuck out, actually. Sometime early this morning. Around eight, as best we can figure. The nurse went in to wake him, as is standard procedure in head injury cases, and found his bed empty."
"Damn. How serious is his injury?"
"He's concussed. Took a blow to the back of the head, apparently."
"He didn't tell you what happened?"
"He said he couldn't remember, and that's rather common in such cases as well."
"Yes," Remington agreed, recalling a similar occurrence in his own experience. "Thank you, Doctor. I'd best go try and track him down."
"Good luck, Mr. Steele."
Remington shook the man's hand. He had a feeling that he was going to need all the luck he could get.
Finding the nearest telephone, he dialed Laura's number again, and wasn't surprised when she answered on the first ring. "Hello?"
"Looks as if I'm going to be here a bit longer than I'd planned," he told her.
"Why?" He could hear the disappointment in her voice, and realized that he shared that feeling.
"Well, it seems that Daniel's disappeared. Chalky didn't tell me that he'd brought Daniel here because he'd taken a blow to the head and was unconscious."
"He's disappeared?"
"Walked out of the hospital this morning against his doctor's orders."
"What's he involved in now, I wonder?" Laura asked.
"I don't know. But I'm hoping that Chalky can tell me something. But I have to track HIM down, first. Could you go to my place? Check the answering machine? See if he's called?"
"Of course. Where shall I call you if he has?"
Remington gave her the number to Daniel's flat. "I don't know how much I'll be there- I've got to find him. I have a feeling that he's in trouble."
"Be-"
"I know. Be careful. I survived on these streets for along time, remember? I think I can still come out on top."
"Let me know what's going on," Laura said.
"I will. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Good bye,- Remington," Laura said, hanging up the telephone. Great, she thought. Just great. Now Daniel's in trouble, and if she knew Remington he'd turn the entire town of London on its ear to find his old friend.
She went upstairs and changed into a pair of jeans and sweater, then, grabbing her keys and purse, left the loft to go check Remington's answering machine.
Laura unlocked the door of the Rossmore apartment, thinking how empty the place felt as she entered, without Remington's ebullient presence to fill it. As she was about to press the button on the answering machine, which did indeed indicate that there was a waiting message, she heard something in the bedroom and froze. Someone was in there.
Glancing around, her gaze fell on the poker beside the fireplace, and she quietly lifted it from the holder, raising it like a baseball bat as she moved cautiously toward the bedroom door.
She turned the knob and pushed it open, looking into the dark interior of the room, waiting for the intruder to give himself away. The bathroom door was open, and a hurried inspection revealed that room to be empty as well.
The window was closed, and then Laura heard the sound of coat hangers softly clinking. The closet! He was hiding in the closet! But which door? she wondered, surveying the mirrored portals. Thinking back, she recalled that when she and Remington had left this morning, the middle closet had been open.