Nate and Jimmy entered the narrow gallery room, and stood waiting for their employer to acknowledge their presence. Jimmy refolded the handkerchief in his hand and pressed it against the back of his head, wincing at the pain.
Archie Valmont's cold grey eyes finally turned to examine them, narrowing in disapproval. "Since the two of you are alone, I'm going to guess that you failed to do as I asked."
Jimmy showed him the blood-stained square of cloth. "He nearly killed me, Mr. Valmont."
"So you did manage to find him, at least," Valmont observed as he moved across the room, stopping before an empty space on the wall. "What happened?"
"Chalky thought we were going t'kill Steele," Nate told him. "Created a diversion so that Steele could get away."
Valmont's gaze returned to Nate. "I trust that he won't make that mistake again?"
"'E understands that 'e'll be the one dead if 'e doesn't find Steele and deliver him to us," Nate confirmed.
"So why are you here instead of out looking for Steele?"
"I figure that Chalky's got a better chance of finding Steele than we do, Mr. Valmont," Nate explained.
"You had best be 'figuring' correctly, Nate," Valmont warned, his eyes on the empty spot again. "I WILL have my Monet back. I don't care who has to be sacrificed in that endeavor." His eyes slid back to the two men. "Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?"
"Yes, sir, Mr. Valmont," Nate assured him.
Valmont's eyes flickered to Jimmy as he refolded the handkerchief yet again. "Have that seen to- and get back out there. I don't want to see either of you again unless you've got Steele."
Remington made the tail three blocks from his destination, after having the driver take him the long way to Soho. Tapping the driver on the shoulder, he handed the man some money and exited the cab. Eyeing the abandoned building before him, he waited for the tail to come within sight, then entered the building.
Hiding behind a stack of empty packing crates, Remington watched the doorway. But the sounds of entry didn't come from that direction. They came from higher up- and Remington silently berated himself for not checking for the possibility of a fire escape ladder somewhere. After listening for another moment, Remington climbed the nearby stairs to the catwalk that circled the outer wall of the building, hiding in the shadows of yet another stack of boxes.
When his pursuer approached, Remington rose from his hiding place. "Hello, Chalky."
"Harry," Chalky said, grinning nervously. "I was beginning to think you were trying to run away from your old friend, mate."
Remington grabbed the smaller man and got him into a choke hold. "Old FRIENDS don't turn their mates over to the coppers," he reminded Chalky. "Or endanger their lives so they wind up with a concussion- or shot."
"I explained about the police the last time, Harry," Chalky managed to say. "I was only trying to help you."
"And yourself," Remington recalled. "Pickpocket charge, wasn't it? And you tried to get it dismissed by helping the police find me."
"Had to. Couldn't go to jail- family needed me."
"Okay. But what about Valmont? Why are you doing his dirty work? Why sell out Daniel and me?"
"I didn't want to, Harry, but he's holding some markers- tried to make some money on the ponies- I borrowed money from Valmont to do it-"
"And lost it all," Remington guessed. Chalky had never been very good at picking the winning horse.
"I didn't have the money to pay it back- and he threatened to kill me if I didn't ask around, see if anyone knew about his painting."
"What's so bloody important about a painting that was stolen from him over twenty years ago?" Harry wanted to know.
"Harry, please. You're hurting my back-"
Remington frowned. "Okay, I'll let you go, but don't try and run off." He gave Chalky a little shove and released his hold, but kept him backed against the wall with his arm. "Now. Answer my question."
"How should I know? All I know is what Daniel told me. He saw the article in the paper about the man that he'd stolen the painting for dying, and mentioned that he had to go to Los Angeles to talk to his widow."
"Los Angeles?" Remington repeated.
"But the article also said that she was going on a trip to recover from her loss, so he decided to put it off for awhile. I asked him about the painting- it was the same Monet that Valmont was looking for."
Remington lifted his eyes. Laura had rattled on about a new case involving a Monet, hadn't she? He began to wish he'd listened more closely to her. "So you went to Valmont and led him right to Daniel's doorstep."
"He would've killed me, Harry!" Chalky insisted. "You don't know this guy. Cold as ice, he is. Muriel and the kids need me. She's sick, Harry. Really sick."
"How did Daniel get hurt?"
"I don't know for certain. After I showed them where Daniel lives, they told me to make myself scarce, said they just wanted to talk to him."
"Like they wanted to talk to me?" Remington questioned. "I don't know anything about this- except that Daniel once told me that he'd stolen a painting from Valmont and that I should give the man a wide berth. And I'd forgotten all about it until this started. Go on."
"I hung around- I wasn't sure they were telling the truth. When I saw them leaving, I went up to Daniel's flat- and found him. The place was a mess- Nate and Jimmy searched the entire place, I think."
"Looking for the exact address of the person Daniel had stolen the painting FOR, most likely," Remington said.
"Daniel kept that kind of information?"
"Not usually. But I always had the feeling that the job was pretty important to him for some reason. So you took Daniel to the hospital."
"Yeah. And thought that would be the end of it. The doctors said they thought he'd be okay, and I started home after calling and leaving a message for you. But Nate and Jimmy grabbed me again- said that the Monet that Valmont's man in Los Angeles had stolen was a fake- and that since Daniel had stolen the original from Valmont, and evidently hadn't turned it over to his client, then HE would know where the original was."
That jived with what Jimmy had told Remington earlier. "But Daniel doesn't work that way, Chalky. You know that."
"Maybe not now. But it was a long time ago, Harry. Nate and Jimmy went to the hospital to talk to Daniel again, ask where the Monet was, but he was already gone. Then you started asking around for Daniel, and they asked who you were-"
"And you volunteered the information again, eh?" Remington asked, his tone dangerous. "And now Valmont wants to use me to get Daniel to cough up the original Monet."
"Something like that. Have you heard from Daniel, Harry? Is he all right?"
"Would you care if he wasn't?" Remington wondered.
"I didn't want anyone to get hurt, Harry," Chalky insisted. "I just thought that if I could get clear of Valmont, and he paid me a little extra, I could get Muriel and the kids out of London- someplace better for her health, you know?" Chalky looked at him. "Listen, if I was you, I'd get out of London as fast as I could. Go back to Los Angeles. It's not safe for you to be here."
"You know, Chalky, for once, you're right. But I have the feeling that it's not going to be easy to simply get onto a plane and jet off, you know? I'm sure Nate and Jimmy will be watching the airport." Remington glanced through the grimy window beside Chalky, and then grinned. "But think I have an idea."
"What, Harry?"
"Oh, no. You really think I'm going to tell you, Chalky? And let you run back to Nate and Jimmy with my plans?"
"Harry, if I don't give them something, they'll-"
Remington pulled out his wallet, took the cash he had on hand and shoved it into Chalky's hand. "That should be enough to get you and the family out of London. Contact me in Los Angeles and I'll see what I can do about getting you some more."
"But what are you gonna do?" Chalky asked, his eyes wide as he counted the money in his hands.
Remington smiled, holding up a plastic rectangle. "Credit card, of course. Now go on. Get Muriel and the kiddies together, and get the hell out of London, okay?"
"Okay, Harry. Thanks." He held out his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Harry shook it. "And- tell Daniel that-I'm sorry-"
"I will- when I see him again. Good luck." Remington waited for the outer door to close again, then watched the street below as Chalky hailed a cab and left. Lifting his eyes toward the sky again, he smiled.
"I'm going to call Valmont," Daniel decided, picking up the telephone in Laura's loft.
She grabbed the receiver from his hands, and returned it to the cradle. "No you're not. Not until we're SURE that he has Remington."
"And how are we going to find that out, Laura?" Daniel asked. "Valmont doesn't know that I'm here. He has no way of getting in touch with me to deliver an ultimatum- if he DOES have Harry."
"But if he has Remington, then he'll know- because Remington knows. Let's just give Remington little more time. If he can, he'll call."
"And how long are we going to give him?"
"Just until morning," Laura explained. "If we haven't heard from him by them, you can call Valmont and tell him that we have the painting- and are willing to trade it for Remington."
"But we don't have it," he told her, watching her spread the blanket over the sofa.
"But we know where it is- and tomorrow morning, we're going to get it."
"We? Laura, I'm not sure that-"
"Of course I'm going, Daniel," Laura insisted. "Now, go upstairs and try to rest."
"In your bed?" Daniel said. "I can sleep on the sofa-"
"And sneak out in the middle of the night?" Laura questioned. "I don't think so. I'll take the sofa. You take the bed." When he would have argued further, Laura sighed. "Daniel, it's late- we're both exhausted- and you're still recovering from a concussion. I think the best thing either of us can do for Remington at the moment is to get some sleep."
Daniel watched her fluff a pillow. "You don't have to do this, you know."
Laura lifted her face to look at him. "Do what?"
"Go to all this trouble to take care of me. I know that you and I haven't always agreed on-"
"I'm not doing this for you, Daniel. I'm doing it for Remington. Because I know he'd do it if he were here."
"Thank you, anyway," he told her, and leaned forward to place a light kiss on her forehead. "Good night, my dear."
Laura stood there, rooted to the spot. The man was such an enigma. Even moreso than his protégé had ever been. After he had told her where the painting was, she had decided that it would be safer for them to come here, to her loft. It would be too easy for Valmont's men to track Daniel to Remington Steele's apartment. But it also meant closer quarters, and gave her a chance to get to know Remington's former mentor a little better.
Laura picked up the telephone and placed it on the coffee table, within easy reach. As she lay down on the sofa, Laura idly wondered how much Remington knew about Daniel's past- or if it was a much as mystery to Remington as Remington's was to her. Daniel Chalmers probably wasn't even his real name, she decided. Anymore than Harry was Remington's real name. Or Remington, for that matter.
Laura's gaze fell on the photo of herself and Remington that was sitting on the piano. "Oh, Remington," she whispered. "Where are you?"
The helicopter lifted off, and Remington's smile widened a bit as he relaxed. A short flight across the Channel to Calais, then on to Paris, where he could catch a flight back to Los Angeles. Once in France, he would call Laura, assure her that he was all right, and find out what was going on there.
Valmont's eyes glittered dangerously as Nate and Jimmy stood there. "I don't see Steele, gentlemen. Such incompetence is unacceptable."
"Mr. Valmont, 'e's disappeared. Just like Chalmers."
"And what about his friend- Chalky? He's had no luck either?"
Jimmy saw Nate's hesitation, and swallowed heavily before answering. "He's gone too, Mr. Valmont. He and his family. Picked up and went, lock, stock and barrel."
Both men saw Valmont's hand clench into a fist as his other one slid into his coat pocket. "This is not good news, gentlemen. Not at all."
"What about Steele's associate?" Nate suggested, eager to find a way out of this mess. "Nice looking bird, from what I recall seeing in the papers when they saved the Earl of Claridge's life last year." When Valmont looked at him, Nate shrugged. "Maybe she could help us find Steele."
"I'm already ahead of you, Nate," Valmont told him. "But then, I've been ahead of you the entire time, haven't I? I believe that it's time to end our association, however."
"End it, Mr. Valmont?" Nate questioned.
"I simply cannot allow such incompetence in my organization. You're terminated." His gun fired twice through the bottom of his jacket pocket, hitting each man squarely in the heart. "Effective immediately."
The gallery door opened, and a man wearing a butler's uniform appeared, his face an impassive mask as he glanced at the bodies of Nate and Jimmy. "Do you require anything, sir?" he asked Valmont.
Valmont removed his jacket. "Throw this out with the rest of the trash, will you, Andrews?" he asked, stepping over the bodies as he left the gallery. "Oh, and I'll be making a trip to Los Angeles. See that my cases are packed and ready."