As he moved toward the limo, he noticed Daniel's rented car sitting in front of the coffee shop across the street. He paused, then frowned as he saw Daniel exit the car and enter the café. The frown changed to a smile and he decided that now was as good a time as any to tell his friend about Phillipe. "Wait here, Fred," he told the chauffeur. "I won't be a moment."

Crossing the street against traffic, he entered the busy coffee shop and looked around for Daniel. The frown returned as he noticed that Daniel wasn't alone- and that he recognized the other man. Marty Lawson was what they called an "information broker"- or in layman's terms, a "snitch". Curious as to why Daniel would be meeting with Marty, Remington searched for an empty table near theirs, but there was none to be had.

Marty slid a folder across the table toward Daniel, who opened it and examined the contents. Remington grabbed a menu and hid behind it, pretending to study it while waiting for a table, occasionally glancing over it to watch the two men. Daniel nodded at last and slipped what Remington guessed to be money across to Marty.

A few minutes later, Daniel excused himself and went to the men's room. Marty got up and left the café. Deciding that he could talk to Daniel anytime, Remington decided to talk to Marty now, while he was here. It would save him the trouble of tracking the man down later, he reasoned.

Following Marty outside, he watched as the little man turned the corner into an alleyway. Remington followed, catching up with the man easily. "Hello there, Marty."

Marty turned around, his dark eyes growing wide as recognition set in. "Harry." He grinned nervously. "How're you doin'? Long time no see. Guess being a big time P.I. agrees with you. You're lookin' good."

"Skip the small talk, Marty. What did Daniel pay you for back there?"

"Daniel?" Marty asked, frowning.

"Daniel Chalmers?" Remington prompted, knowing full well that Marty was playing a game. The question was, why was he playing it? "You just had coffee with him? Gave him a folder, he gave you some money?"

"I can't betray a customer's trust, Harry," Marty began. "Daniel bought information in good faith-"

Remington reached into his wallet and pulled out a fifty. Holding it up, he said, "Then I'd like to buy some information as well, Marty." The man's eyes lit up as he looked at the money. "What information did you sell to Daniel?"

"I got my reputation to think about," Marty insisted, but he was wavering. A twenty joined the fifty. "He wanted information about Gerald Davis," Marty told him.

"Davis?"

"Yeah. The rich guy who collects artwork and . .."

"I know who Gerald Davis is, Marty. What sort of information did Daniel want?"

"Where he lives, bank account, how much security the guy's got, things like that. I got the idea that he's planning something, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Remington said grimly as he handed Marty the money. "Thanks. And if Daniel contacts you again, mate, you and I never had this little chat, okay?"

"Sure, Harry."

Remington wandered back out to the street just in time to see Daniel get into his car and drive away. Crossing the street, he went to the limo. "Miss Holt's loft, Fred."

"Miss Holt called while you were in the coffee shop, Mr. Steele," Fred informed him. "She wants you to call her."

Nodding, Remington picked up the phone, hoping he could keep this from Laura until he had a chance to confront Daniel. The last thing he needed right now was for Laura to suspect that Daniel was up to something.

"Remington Steele Investigations," Mildred said as she answered the phone.

"Mildred, is Miss Holt in? She left a message with Fred . . ."

"Oh, sure, Chief. Let me connect you."

"Where are you?" Laura asked the moment she picked up the phone.

Remington glanced at the street signs and told her. "What's wrong?"

"I need you to make a stop before you come back to the office," Laura said.

"A stop?"

"We have a new case. Phoebe Gleason seems to think that someone is conning her grandfather out of his savings and wants us to look into it."

"Has she gone to the police?"

"They won't do anything unless her grandfather files a complaint, but he trusts this person and refuses to believe he's being bilked. Mildred's trying to track down the checks he's written, but they're made out to cash, so-"

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to stop by G.E.M. productions, find out if Mulch knows anyone named Felix Gleason."

"George? What makes you think George Mulch is involved?"

"Just covering all the bases, Mr. Steele," Laura informed him, then lowered her voice. "I'm looking forward to dinner tonight," she said.

"So am I," he agreed. "Why didn't you just call George? Ask him yourself?"

"Mildred tried. No answer. Besides, he responds better to you than to me."

"Hmm. I don't know, Miss Holt. Seems to me that you respond rather well yourself." He heard the soft creaking of leather and realized that she was sitting in his chair.

"You want response, just wait til tonight," she promised in a seductive voice.

"I'm looking forward it to, Miss Holt. Believe me." He glanced at his watch. "I'll drop by George's office, then head back to my apartment to get things started, okay?"

"Don't start anything without me, Mr. Steele," she said. "After all, we ARE a team."

"Don't worry, I wouldn't dream of it," Remington promised, then hung up the telephone. George's office was in the opposite direction from Laura's loft. With a sigh, he told Fred, "Change of plans, Fred. We're going to George Mulch's office." He gave the driver the address, then dialed the number for the loft, hoping that Daniel had gone straight back there.

When the answering machine picked up, Remington said, "Daniel? . . . Daniel, if you're there, mate, pick up the phone . . . " When there was no answer, Remington sighed. "Listen, Daniel, we need to talk . . . Give me a call when you come in." He hung up the telephone with a frustrated sigh.

"Something wrong, Mr. Steele?" Fred asked, glancing at him in the rear-view mirror.

"I wish I knew, Fred. I wish I knew."

***

Daniel had just entered the loft when the telephone began to ring and he paused, waiting for the machine to pick it up. Hearing Harry's message, Daniel smiled. Hadn't taken him long to get the information out of Marty. Of course, that was all part of the plan . . .

With a soft laugh, Daniel removed his tie and jacket, heading for the bathroom for a shower. He had a feeling that keeping one step of Harry on this was going to prove to be almost as enjoyable as the plan itself . . .

***

Laura slipped into Remington's apartment, the sound covered by the soft music emanating from the stereo system. There was a bottle of champagne on ice, waiting near the fireplace. Dropping her jacket and package on the back of the sofa, she found herself drawn toward the kitchen by the aroma of something that made her mouth-water.

The sleek, black table was beautifully laid for two, Laura noticed as she moved quietly through the dining room. She stood in the door of the kitchen, watching with envy Remington's confident movements as he checked something on the stove before going to the oven and opening the door.

Once he was satisfied that dinner was cooking properly, he picked up a glass of wine that was sitting on the counter nearby. Laura slid her arms around him from behind. "Guess who?" she asked.

"Umm,--Ingrid?" Remington questioned, playing along.

"Nope."

"Tracy?"

"Uh-uh," Laura said, reaching for the glass of wine as Remington turned around to give her a light kiss.

"Ah, Laura. I didn't hear you come in."

"I know," she told him, sipping the wine. "Dinner smells wonderful," she said, going over to snitch a bite of something from a pan on the stove.

Remington slapped at her hand. "Stop that. You'll spoil your dinner." He poured a fresh glass of wine. "Sorry I didn't get back to you about my meeting with George Mulch. By the time I finally found him, it was late- and YOU weren't at the office. He swears that doesn't know anything about Miss Gleason's grandfather. And I believe he's telling the truth."

Laura lifted her lips to his, then said, "We'll talk about it tomorrow."

"We will?" Remington questioned, surprised that she was willing to forego discussing a case.

She nodded. "At the office."

"Ah. Is this another part of the new, improved Laura Holt?" he asked, uncertain.

"Um hmm," she agreed, pressing another kiss to his lips. "No talking about work outside of business hours unless we're working." She looked up at him through her lashes. "Unless you consider this to be work," she teased.

"Not at all," he assured her, pulling her closer for a longer kiss. "Where did you go after you left the office?" he asked.

"I had some errands to run," she told him, giving him a kiss in return. The sound of something boiling over broke them apart. "I think something's burning," Laura said, smiling.

Remington deftly reached over and turned off the burner. "It's not the only thing that's burning," he said, and would have reached for her again, but Laura turned out of his grasp with a soft laugh. "I'm going to take a quick shower and change," she informed him, lifting her glass in silent salute.

"Don't be long," Remington told her. "Dinner's almost ready." He shook his head, deciding that as long as Laura could keep from pulling another stunt like she did this afternoon- dragging a client out of his way for a personal matter- he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth by questioning his good fortune. Daniel was right. When Laura was ready, she'd admit that she needed help. Until then, the best thing he could do was to be here for her- as close as he could possibly be.

***

Daniel smiled across the table at Montovelli's as they waited for the wine he had ordered. "Have I told you how lovely you look this evening, Mildred?" he asked. "That dress is-."

Mildred smiled, glancing down at the blue silk dress she'd finally picked to wear- after going through everything in her closet, of course. "This old thing? I've had it for ages. You're not looking too shabby yourself," Mildred commented. Now THAT was an understatement if she'd ever heard one. The man looked damn good, Mildred thought. She was beginning to understand how Miss Holt felt, walking into a room at Mr. Steele's side. Had Daniel noticed the appreciative looks he'd gotten from those two women across the dining room, she wondered.

Mildred accepted Daniel's suggestions about dinner as they ordered, and then the waiter brought the wine and poured two glasses. Once they were alone again, Daniel lifted his glass. "To charming company," he said, smiling as Mildred lifted her glass as well and touched it to his.

"So, what did Dr. Becker say this morning?" Mildred asked.

"Right to the point, I see," Daniel said.

"Well, it's either asking about that or the 'plan' you mentioned," Mildred told him. "And I'm curious about both."

Daniel put his glass onto the re-checked tablecloth. "He wanted me to go into the hospital so that he could run some tests."

"And you refused."

Daniel looked up at her, surprised as her insight. "Yes. Harry wasn't happy about that decision, I'm afraid."

"Of course he wasn't. I wouldn't have been either," Mildred said.

"I've already had all the tests," he told her. "My doctor in London confirmed that there's really very little to be done- that it's simply a matter of time."

"But you have to keep trying, Daniel," Mildred insisted. "You can't just- give up."

"I've been running from one thing or the other most of my adult life, Mildred," Daniel reminded her. "I suppose there seemed to be any reason to stop running." He smiled and reached out to cover her hand with his. "Until now."

"Stop trying to charm you way out of this, Chalmers," Mildred told him, but she was smiling as well, and turned her hand into his.

"Well, you'll no doubt to pleased to know that Dr. Becker convinced me to let him run the tests on an out-patient basis- to start with, at any rate. I have to be at the hospital at nine tomorrow morning."

"Good. You never know, Daniel. Becker might find something that Dr. Morgan didn't."

Daniel was distracted as their food arrived. "Looks delicious," he told the young man. He smiled at Mildred. "I'm glad you suggested Italian, Mildred."

Mildred smiled, picking up her fork. "You know, you've never said, but- is this a- inherited medical problem? Something that- runs in your family?"

Daniel was fully aware that she was trying to get some information on his past with that question, and smiled as he shook his head. "No. When I was younger, I spent some time in India."

"India?"

"Not long. But long enough to have picked up a nasty little bug, apparently. I never knew about it, until I began having pains in chest-." He broke off. "Dr. Morgan told me that it's been there the entire time, weakening my system, just waiting for the right moment to make itself known."

"Oh. What about antibiotics, or-?"

"If they had caught it earlier, perhaps. But it's gone past that stage now. All they can do try to control the damage it's already done, I'm afraid," Daniel sighed. He saw the sad expression Mildred's face. "Come now. I didn't ask you out tonight to depress you." He smiled at her. "I thought you wanted to find out about my plan to help Laura?"

"First, I want to hear what happened this afternoon. How did she convince Mr. Davis to take her to Malibu?"

"I'm not sure how she managed that feat, really. But when Harry and I arrived on the scene, there she was, running along the beach."

"The beach? Oh, my goodness. I'll bet Mr. Davis wasn't happy about that."

"I managed to smooth his feathers, I hope."

"How?"

"Well, when Harry went down to retrieve Laura, I introduced myself to Mr. Davis-" Daniel watched Mildred closely as he finished, "-as an associate of Remington Steele's."

"you what? Oh, Daniel."

"There's more, I'm afraid. I told him that I'm somewhat of an-expert in security work, specializing in protecting art collections."

"More like in circumVENTing that protection," Mildred commented, shaking her head. "Oh, Daniel. WHY?"

"Two reasons, actually. One, to give Laura something to worry about other than her father's death."

"And the other?"

"I'm afraid that if I hadn't done what I did, Mr. Davis would have taken his business elsewhere- causing problems for the Agency's reputation."

Mildred narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. "And why are YOU so concerned about the Agency's reputation?" she asked.

"Because it's important to Harry, and to Laura," he told her.

"You're not REALLY going to steal anything, are you, Daniel?"

"Really, my dear. You cut me to the quick," he said, placing a hand to his chest in mock dismay. "I thought we had moved past such distrust of my motives, Mildred."

Mildred looked at him, wanting to believe that his reasons were wholly selfless. "I don't see how this is going to help Miss Holt, Daniel."

"If I played it correctly this afternoon, Davis will insist that Miss Holt be allowed to continue working on his case with the proviso that I be there to- advise her."

"That's not gonna go over well," Mildred predicted.

"No, don't think it will," Daniel said with a smile. "But she'll agree- because she doesn't want to lose a client as a result of her actions this afternoon."

"Let me get this straight. You want her to think that you're using the Agency to set up a con or something- so that she'll concentrate on keeping an eye on you instead of her own problems," Mildred said. "Is that it?"

Daniel sighed. "Precisely. In order to protect the Agency, Laura will be forced to let me help her. I'll assure her that I've no intention of stealing anything, that I simply want to help- but your job will be to plant seeds of doubt in her mind."

"ME? Have you asked Mr. Steele to help-?"

"I've decided that it's best to keep Harry in the dark about this."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want Laura to blame Harry if this doesn't work. This way, he'll be able to disclaim all knowledge of my plan. But he IS going to help- even though he doesn't realize it yet."

"He is?"

"I put that part of the plan into motion today as well. That's another thing. I'm going to need your help in keeping Harry from cornering me about this until after Mr. Davis' party." Daniel took her hand in his again. "Will you help me, Mildred? For Laura's sake? For Harry's?"

To Be Continued . . .

---

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Original content ©2001 by Nancy Eddy