Steeling a Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Steeling a Dream
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
Part 1: Diamonds of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter 22 Old Lovers
“Michael, darling, so good to hear from you. However did you get this number?” her voice caressed
through the phone lines.
“It’s one you’ve used from time to time and I recognized it when a mutual acquaintance gave it to me.
An old man named Denis. Ring any bells?”
“I didn’t know you were back in the business. I hadn’t heard. I knew that boring little Lisle couldn’t
hold a man like you for long.”
“If you only knew, Felicia.” Remington rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned against the brick wall.
“Why are you mixed up in this?”
“Oh, darling, I couldn’t resist getting my hands on something so unique. Rather like you. I’ve missed
you in my bed. You’re quite inventive you know. And such stamina.” She moaned a little under her
breath.
“Felicia,” he pronounced her name syllable by syllable, “I’m quite serious. What are you doing in this
mess?”
“At best, I’ll get my hands on a very unique gem; at worst, I’ll earn a nice fee. I’m the gemologist that is
supposed to convince my client that the red diamond is really a red diamond.”
“I hope that’s all you have to do.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Malone told me three different cutters said it was worthless. The auction house kept it quiet and they
agreed on a small settlement when he decided to keep the stone”
“Malone doesn’t lie. Neither do you--to me, anyway. Michael, I’ve been given orders to ‘shoot the
messenger,’ so to speak, if the gem is not to my liking. I’d rather not muss my silk sheets, so find a way
out of this.”
“I need you to do me a favor, Felicia.”
“Hmmm, my favorite kind. I can think of a few things you can do to me. What is it?”
Rapidly thinking through the possibilities, Steele selected one. It was bold and brazen and brought a real
smile to his face. “I need you to let me set you up. Convince the buyer that the stone is worthwhile at
our meeting. My men will ‘arrest’ you and get you clear while I convince your buyer to let the
transaction go through.”
“He’ll never do it with his own money.”
“I’ll cover that.”
“You’ve come up in the world, Michael. That’s a lot of cash.”
“Clean living, Felicia, and a lot of luck.”
“Lady Luck has always smiled kindly on you. So tell me,” she purred, “what do I get out of this?”
“Ah, twenty thousand. No gems, but you wouldn’t want this one anyway.”
“Oh, Michael, for you, I’ll do it for that pittance. I expect you to make it up to me afterwards. One
thing though, why are you doing this?”
“I’m setting up O’Callaghan. He needs a lot of money for something and I need to know why.”
“Well, of course, he does. Carlisle is holding O’Callaghan’s daughter hostage. You know he had a thing
for Erin and her daughter is her spitting image. O’Callaghan’s so busy paying off Carlisle to keep her
alive that he’s not paying attention to his own business.”
“He does have a daughter then.”
“Of course. And Denis is stupid enough to think that if he quits paying Johnny that Johnny will hurt the
girl or kill her for spite. But Johnny wouldn’t touch a hair on her pretty little head because she belongs to
Erin.”
“So what is O’Callaghan going to do with the money?”
“I don’t know, but my best guess is that he’s going to get rid of Carlisle. It’s the only way he’ll get his
daughter free of him.”
As usual, Laura was sharp as a tack, for she had suggested the same scenario earlier with half the
information. “What a tangled web we weave,” Remington muttered softly.
“Michael, you still haven’t told me why you’re in this. You always told me to stay away from the Six.”
“They got to Laura,” he said simply.
“Oh, dear. I told you that you were smitten with Lisa. Have you managed to entice her into your bed
yet or is she still the ice queen?”
“I married her two years ago, Felicia.”
“Damn. I don’t suppose you want to warm my bed for old times’ sake then?”
“As lovely as the offer truly is, I have to pass on this one. Laura is quite the jealous wife.”
“She’s so stuffy. I don’t know what you see in her.”
Remington smiled in spite of the situation. “Felicia, I think the better question is ‘what does she see in
me?' ”
“Oh, darling, I’ll spell it out chapter and verse. Now tell me what I’m supposed to do again and exactly
how I’m going to get paid.”
Steele strolled into the safe house, whistling a happy tune.
“Damn it, Steele! I told you to let my team cover you, and the first thing you do is give us the slip,”
Buchanan yelled. Peterson sat on the sofa near Mrs. Steele nursing his soft drink, content to let his
senior do the berating.
“Sorry, lads. We have an unexpected development that just might solve all our problems,” he shot back.
He crossed to Laura and kissed her full on the lips before sitting on the arm of the chair next to her and
winking at Mildred. “An old friend happens to be the contact. I’ve cut a deal already, but I want
guarantees that Interpol will leave my friend alone.”
Peterson turned a little green. “You get your slate wiped clean and now you want to start helping your
friends?”
Steele leaned forward into Peterson’s face. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect Laura. If that
means lying, cheating, stealing, or bringing in Interpol, I will do whatever is bloody necessary. If I have
to call in every buggering contact and favor I have in Europe, O’Callaghan will never get his hands on her
again. I’m playing this your way because it’s what Laura wants me to do. But if your little operation
can’t make this happen, we’ll do it with mine.” His voice was pure steel.
But Brian stood up, forcing him back. “What you forget, Blaine, is that for now I’m on your side.
Pissed off, but I’ve got your back. That gives me the right to question your motives from time to time.”
“I’ve already told you my motives. Understand those and everything else I do will make sense. Now,
are you going to cut my friend some slack here or do we have to throw away our best chance of nailing
the buggering bastard to the wall?”
Peterson and Buchanan exchanged looks. Finally, Buchanan shrugged. “This time. No promises about
next time.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Mildred, she’ll recognize you, so I need you at the drop. Murphy, I want you
backing up Mildred. You two will be playing indeterminate security forces for the evening.”
Laura sat straight up in her chair. “She? Felicia? Felicia’s your contact?”
Remington grinned. “Couldn’t have asked for a better stroke of fate.” Peterson slammed his fist into the
nearest wall. “Ah, I see you have a fat file on her as well.” Remington was amused at the man’s
reaction. “Shall we move to the table and I’ll lay out the logistics?”
The exchange was to take place tomorrow night in London at a small restaurant in Chelsea. Remington,
Murphy and Mildred planned to fly out in the morning from Cork. They wanted to give O’Callaghan
every opportunity to see that Steele was following through on his end. Peterson and two of his agents
would follow in a chartered flight provided by Interpol and land at a small private airport. Both teams
were to survey the small restaurant and set up decent vantage points to protect Steele as much as possible
from any sort of double-cross or assassination. After the transaction, the entire team would spend the
night in London at a small hotel before returning to Cork the following day.
In the meantime, Buchanan was arranging for his agent to meet with Johnny Carlisle. He had thought
Laura’s suggestion was an excellent one. One of his ongoing problems with reeling in the Dublin Six was
their amazing insularity. Sometimes the right person at the right time could be insinuated into an
operation just in time to tip things Interpol’s way.
Buchanan planned to remain behind with Laura. For one, he needed to run the operation at the castle
and two, Steele wouldn’t budge if Laura was as risk. The safe house was the best place for her to be in
this circumstance.
Remington suspiciously eyed his wife, wondering why she wasn’t insisting on going to London with him.
He had his arguments primed and ready, but when Buchanan quelled Laura’s opening volley, she
subsided without a word.
In bed that night he tried to figure out why. “Laura, I’m surprised at you. I rather thought you would
want to come along. Especially since Felicia is involved.”
“I’d love to be there, but let’s face it, you don’t need me. You’ve got Murphy and Mildred. In fact, I’d
be a major distraction to you, the way I see it.” She was quite blunt. Remington couldn’t detect any
hesitation or fear in her voice. And he couldn’t disagree with her either. “Do I need to worry about
Felicia?” she asked, trailing her hands down his throat.
“No.” He nipped at her finger.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Are you saying you’re not the jealous type?”
“Rei, jealousy implies a certain lack of trust. Not of her, but of you. I trust you. What I would like to
know is, what are the chances in a thousand that she would be your contact?”
“Actually, pretty good, since we’re supposed to be fencing stolen merchandise that happens to be
expensive and pretty. But it’s still a nice piece of luck.” He stroked her hair, enjoying the feel of the
strands falling through his fingers.
“Then I’ll have to thank her for it later. I just hope she doesn’t cause any trouble for you.” She pressed
her lips to his collarbone.
“Felicia? Only if it’s for her own gain. I’ve got that covered. Honor among thieves and all that.” He
shifted, pulling her on top of him. He forgot about her knee as she straddled him.
“How?” She stripped off her night shirt, exposing her bare body to him in the pale moonlight.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, you happen to be a significant source of distraction to me. You wouldn’t
want to send me off pining for you, would you, and with the image of you like this burned into my
brain?” His hands stroked her waist and thighs.
“We couldn’t have that now, could we? I’d much rather have you thinking of this.” Remington closed
his eyes as Laura’s mouth scorched a trail down his body.
Fifteen minutes after the three detectives left for the flight to England, Laura threw her small carry-on
bag in the pile next to Peterson’s. Buchanan leaned against the front door. “You’re not going.”
“I can either catch this flight or the next one; it’s your choice, but I’m going to London.” Her voice was
calm, but very firm.
“Mrs. Steele, I cannot allow you to be a part of this operation. I promised Mr. Steele.”
“I’m not asking to be a part of this operation. I know I would only be a liability. I’m not interested in
breaking Remington’s concentration. But I’m going to be in London and wait for him to come home. It’
s safer for me to fly on your plane, but if you won’t let me aboard, I’ll catch the next flight from Cork.”
Buchanan crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Laura. “Why?” he asked.
“We spent too many years wasting time. I’ll be there when he’s done.”
“You’re still injured.”
“Not by much. I couldn’t run a triathlon, but I can hold my own.”
“You know he’s going to call here.”
“No, he won’t. He’ll call when it’s done, and by then, he’ll have already found me.” She sounded very
sure of herself.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“I even have a set of keys.”
Buchanan shrugged. “This is between you and Steele. As long as you stay out of the operation and
agree to a bodyguard, I’ll put you on the plane.”
That promise only lasted an hour. Laura was changing clothes when she heard the phone ring and
Buchanan’s subsequent swearing that echoed through the little house. Curious, she eased down the stairs
and ostensibly poured a cup of coffee.
Buchanan had his jaw clenched and arms crossed while he glared at the telephone.
“Coffee?” she offered.
“Ah, no, thank you though.” Buchanan closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “I’m going to regret
this.”
“What’s that?” Laura made sure her voice was neutral.
“Our agent that was to make contact with Carlisle was in a car accident an hour ago. She’ll be okay, but
she’s in surgery for a ruptured gall bladder. There isn’t any way she can make the meet tonight.”
Laura waited patiently, forcing him to make the request.
“I don’t have another agent that matches her description that I can get here and prep in time for the
meet. The two of you have relatively the same build and coloring, so I can substitute her back in later.
Will you go?”
“Where?”
“London. Little place called La Gavroche. We know he has reservations for eight this evening.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Figure out a way to get the information to him. If O’Callaghan makes the call, I want you to pass that
on. If he doesn’t, I want you to let Carlisle know about the money from the diamond.”
“You’re assuming that my husband pulls off tonight without a hitch.”
“Yes, ma’am. I don’t have any reason to believe it will fail.”
“Who will be covering me?”
“My agent’s partner. He’s already in place as a waiter.”
“All I have to do is pass the information and get out?”
“Yes. Once Cynthia is back on her feet, she can take it from there.”
“You can shake the tail when I’m done?”
“Guaranteed.”
“Then I’ll do it.” Now, how am I to explain this to Remington?
“Excellent.” Buchanan heaved a sigh. “Got any ideas how to pull this off?”
“Actually, I do.”
Peterson dropped Laura off at Daniel’s flat in London four hours later. Remington and the others were
avoiding the house just in case they were being followed. Instead, they canvassed the area and ate lunch
across the street from the restaurant.
Buchanan reported to Peterson that the possible hit men had been narrowed down to two. An agent was
tapped in to the phone lines, poised to intercept the call.
By seven forty-five that evening, the agents, along with Murphy and Mildred, were in place. At eight,
the detectives watched a statuesque blonde stroll into the restaurant, escorted by a swarthy gentleman
somewhat shorter than she. They had a table reserved in a quiet corner of the restaurant, resplendent
with white linen and chandeliers.
Ten minutes later, Remington, in his guise as Michael O’Leary, took his seat across from the pair,
making sure his back blocked the public’s view of the transaction about to take place. In his weathered
leather coat and cap, he looked odd in the elegant room, especially with Felicia looking scrumptious in a
white gown with thin straps holding up the bodice.
Felicia introduced herself as Katherine DeBurgh and her escort as August Léglise, a wealthy Frenchman
with an eye for the unusual.
“So you’re the toff who wants to buy the rock,” O’Leary declared in a rough Irish accent, spattered with
the odd Cockney phrasing.
"Katherine" translated for the Frenchman, who nodded and shrugged. O’Leary pulled the package from
his coat and handed it to Léglise. The buyer tugged off the wrappings and turned the stone this way and
that. It was obvious he had no idea what he was to look for. Without a word, he handed the stone to
Katherine for examination.
She used her own flashlight and loupe to examine the rock in careful detail, one small section at a time.
She brought out a tiny testing kit and carefully checked the exposed part of the diamond for authenticity
and color. The whole process took nearly thirty minutes. O’Leary and Léglise quietly sipped their drinks
while she studied the rock.
Steele mentally applauded Felicia for her diligence. She probably knew more about the diamond now
than he did, and he was sure he would have to account for it later. All in all, she would have made an
excellent gemologist, but since that too closely resembled actual work, it would never hold any appeal for
her.
Felicia winked at him before rewrapping the stone and putting away the testing kit. In French, she
explained to Léglise that the rock could be carefully cut to reveal approximately a one caret diamond.
Inwardly, Remington smiled. He hadn’t fooled her for a minute. The rest would be up to him.
Léglise grinned broadly and spewed French at her while he kissed her hand. She laughed and waved him
away. “He’s quite excited and wants to close the deal. I recommend a price of £575,000 for the uncut
stone. He has a cutter that is willing to take on the risk.
“No deal, O’Callaghan wants eight-fifty.” O’Leary shoved his bottle away while Katherine explained the
price. The Frenchman frowned and counter-offered with £650,000.
O’Leary shook his head and made to leave, giving her a little buss on the hand and pocketing the stone.
Léglise made one more demand and she stopped him from leaving. “£750,000. Last offer.”
O’Leary sat down and shook the Frenchman’s hand. “Done.”
Léglise flagged a waiter and had a telephone brought to the table. O’Leary slid a sheet of paper, signed
by O’Callaghan, across the table. Via phone, Léglise transferred £600,000 to the account number written
on the paper. With a raised pair of eyebrows at the percentage, he transferred another £150,000 to an
account O’Leary provided.
When the Frenchman hung up, Steele gave a signal behind his back. Peterson, Mildred and Murphy
stepped into view. Remington removed his cap and made one of those shifts from O’Leary to "Jacques
Murrell" as he switched to speaking perfect French. He placed his card on the table.
“Remington Steele of Remington Steele Investigations, Mr. Léglise. I’m quite sorry to inform you that
this woman is attempting to pass off a worthless gem to you. Three certified diamond cutters have
ascertained that the stone is terribly flawed.” He introduced the Interpol man. “This is agent Brian
Peterson, specialist in tracking international jewel thieves.” Peterson flipped out his identification and laid
it on the table as well.
“Worthless? Thieves? How?” Léglise was taken aback.
Steele’s tone was mild as he reseated himself at the table. “Because the man who contracted for the
theft didn’t know it was worthless. Miss DeBurgh is not a certified gemologist. She’s a con artist in her
own right. Peterson here has a file three inches thick on her exploits.”
“Four, actually,” Peterson sneered truthfully. “Let’s go, Miss DeBurgh.” Murphy and Mildred yanked
her out of the seat while she protested her innocence. Murphy snapped handcuffs on Katherine while
she elegantly disputed their claims. The rest of the diners in the restaurant leaned to and fro, trying to get
a sense of the sudden commotion.
“Hold her in the car until I get there. I want to be present when you take her in, Peterson,” Steele
ordered. “Krebs, Michaels, do not let her out of your sight. She’s as slippery as they come.” He
watched as the detectives escorted the woman to the waiting car. Brian took his own chair at the table
while Steele turned his attention back to the Frenchman.
“Now, Mr. Léglise, my apologies for the setup. We were required to wait until the transaction was
committed before having the authority to remedy the situation. I suggest you change your bank account
used for this business immediately so that your funds cannot be further compromised. We will work
closely with the Irish authorities to retrieve your funds. In the meantime, I have a cashier’s check of
£20,000 for your troubles.” Steele removed an envelope from his black jacket and handed it to the
astonished man.
Peterson jerked in surprise. No one at Interpol authorized a cashier’s check. Léglise accepted the check
with alacrity, shook hands with the men, and fled without another word.
Steele grinned and patted Peterson on the shoulder. “That went well. Not too bad for your first time.”
The agent frowned as he worked his way through the scenario.
The men walked out of the restaurant and slid into the waiting car. Murphy had already removed
Felicia’s handcuffs and waited with her in the backseat while Mildred took the front. Remington ducked
into the back with the others while Peterson took the driver’s seat.
“Absolutely perfect, Felicia.” He kissed her on the lips as Brian pulled into traffic.
“Bloody fucking hell!” Peterson suddenly yelled. Felicia and Remington began snickering, then outright
laughing.
“Took you long enough,” Steele snorted.
Murphy and Mildred exchanged quizzical looks. “Boss? What’d I miss?”
“Ms. Krebs, why would a man be willing to take a mere £20,000 in exchange for £750,000?”
“Because he had the gem already?”
“No.” Steele held up the silk-covered stone, still wearing an ear-to-ear grin.
“Ah, then it’s because he’s guilty of something and doesn’t want to be caught. Could it be that he knew
the diamond was stolen?” Steele tapped his nose, indicating she'd gotten it exactly right.
Felicia dug around under the seat in front of her and drew out a bottle of champagne and four glasses.
Sometimes Michael was so predictable. She kicked one of the glasses back under the seat. “Michael,
darling, you’ll have to share with me.” She handed the bottle to him and he popped the cork and poured.
“What do we want to bet that August Léglise doesn’t exist?” Murphy mused.
“No takers on that one, mate.” Remington laughed.
“So if Mr. Léglise doesn’t exist and he closes the account as soon as he gets to a phone, how do we
return his money?” Murphy wondered aloud.
Peterson snarled, “We don’t. We might be able to trace the other six hundred, but your boy here just got
away scott-free with his fee.”
“Ah, there was nothing illegal about my transaction. I was paid to deliver a package,” Steele said. “It
was entirely legal. It’s not my fault the diamond wasn’t stolen. In fact, I had a perfectly legal right to sell
it, although I’m not currently in the market to do so.”
“You’re an expensive courier service, Steele,” Peterson remarked.
“Not my problem, mate.”
Murphy scratched his neck as he worked it out in his mind. “If I’ve got this right, you laid out £70,000
for the red diamond from Malone.”
“Darling, you didn’t actually pay him for it. I’m ashamed at your moral standards,” Felicia drawled to
Steele. She drank from his champagne glass with one hand and used the other to toy with his hair.
“Then you were paid by Léglise for the delivery of the stone, which was twenty-five percent of the
total,” the detective continued.
“£150,000, Mr. Michaels,” Felicia put in.
“And you gave Léglise a check for £20,000 for his ‘troubles,’ as you put it,” snarled Peterson as he took
a hard left turn.
“I’m quite disappointed in you, Michael, you only gave me twenty for mine,” Felicia sighed and patted
him on the thigh. “I expect you to make it up to me later.”
“So if my math is right, you netted £40,000,” Murphy mused.
“And Laura’s bracelet is sure to cost me that, so all in all, it’s been a good night. Cheers!” Steele took a
healthy drink of champagne and grinned at Peterson’s sour face in the rearview mirror.
At the motel, Remington flagged down a taxi. He told Mildred, “I’m taking Felicia to a safe place for the
night. I still don’t trust Interpol and Peterson’s fairly miffed at the whole charade.”
“Are we going to a certain inheritance?”
“Can’t put anything past you, can I, Mildred? I’ll be back in a while.” He gave her a quick hug while
Felicia slid into the taxi.
“Sure thing, boss.” She waved him off, wondering if he knew what he was doing.
In the taxi, Remington and Felicia couldn’t keep the smiles from their faces. It had been a long time
since they pulled off a perfect scam together. The fact that it was underneath Interpol’s noses only
added a fillip of excitement to the night.
It was all too easy to fall into an easy routine of flirting and heavy innuendos as the taxi careened through
the streets of London. By the time, Remington drew Felicia from the taxi-cab, they were high from the
excitement and dashed up the stairs to the flat, laughing as he picked the lock. “Damn, I can’t believe I
forgot the key.”
“Hurry, darling, I’m getting impatient.”
“Ah, there it is.” The door swung open and she strolled through. When he shut and locked it, he asked,
“Impatient for what?”
“For this.” Felicia dropped her coat to the floor and fixed her mouth on his. Automatically his lips closed
on hers, sliding into the familiar kiss. “Oh, darling, you taste divine,” she purred. Her hand streaked
down the buttons on his shirt, releasing them in the process, and wandered farther south. “Look, there
you are. I was quite afraid you had forgotten about me.”
Remington groaned low in his throat, “Felicia, you could wake a dead man three days after he’s been
buried.” His hands clutched her waist.
“Damn, Michael, I’ve missed you,” she breathed between kisses. “Such creativity, such stamina. No
one else ... measures up.”
Chapter 23 -- Deception
“Michael, darling, so good to hear from you. However did you get this number?” her voice caressed
through the phone lines.
“It’s one you’ve used from time to time and I recognized it when a mutual acquaintance gave it to me.
An old man named Denis. Ring any bells?”
“I didn’t know you were back in the business. I hadn’t heard. I knew that boring little Lisle couldn’t
hold a man like you for long.”
“If you only knew, Felicia.” Remington rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned against the brick wall.
“Why are you mixed up in this?”
“Oh, darling, I couldn’t resist getting my hands on something so unique. Rather like you. I’ve missed
you in my bed. You’re quite inventive you know. And such stamina.” She moaned a little under her
breath.
“Felicia,” he pronounced her name syllable by syllable, “I’m quite serious. What are you doing in this
mess?”
“At best, I’ll get my hands on a very unique gem; at worst, I’ll earn a nice fee. I’m the gemologist that is
supposed to convince my client that the red diamond is really a red diamond.”
“I hope that’s all you have to do.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Malone told me three different cutters said it was worthless. The auction house kept it quiet and they
agreed on a small settlement when he decided to keep the stone”
“Malone doesn’t lie. Neither do you--to me, anyway. Michael, I’ve been given orders to ‘shoot the
messenger,’ so to speak, if the gem is not to my liking. I’d rather not muss my silk sheets, so find a way
out of this.”
“I need you to do me a favor, Felicia.”
“Hmmm, my favorite kind. I can think of a few things you can do to me. What is it?”
Rapidly thinking through the possibilities, Steele selected one. It was bold and brazen and brought a real
smile to his face. “I need you to let me set you up. Convince the buyer that the stone is worthwhile at
our meeting. My men will ‘arrest’ you and get you clear while I convince your buyer to let the
transaction go through.”
“He’ll never do it with his own money.”
“I’ll cover that.”
“You’ve come up in the world, Michael. That’s a lot of cash.”
“Clean living, Felicia, and a lot of luck.”
“Lady Luck has always smiled kindly on you. So tell me,” she purred, “what do I get out of this?”
“Ah, twenty thousand. No gems, but you wouldn’t want this one anyway.”
“Oh, Michael, for you, I’ll do it for that pittance. I expect you to make it up to me afterwards. One
thing though, why are you doing this?”
“I’m setting up O’Callaghan. He needs a lot of money for something and I need to know why.”
“Well, of course, he does. Carlisle is holding O’Callaghan’s daughter hostage. You know he had a thing
for Erin and her daughter is her spitting image. O’Callaghan’s so busy paying off Carlisle to keep her
alive that he’s not paying attention to his own business.”
“He does have a daughter then.”
“Of course. And Denis is stupid enough to think that if he quits paying Johnny that Johnny will hurt the
girl or kill her for spite. But Johnny wouldn’t touch a hair on her pretty little head because she belongs to
Erin.”
“So what is O’Callaghan going to do with the money?”
“I don’t know, but my best guess is that he’s going to get rid of Carlisle. It’s the only way he’ll get his
daughter free of him.”
As usual, Laura was sharp as a tack, for she had suggested the same scenario earlier with half the
information. “What a tangled web we weave,” Remington muttered softly.
“Michael, you still haven’t told me why you’re in this. You always told me to stay away from the Six.”
“They got to Laura,” he said simply.
“Oh, dear. I told you that you were smitten with Lisa. Have you managed to entice her into your bed
yet or is she still the ice queen?”
“I married her two years ago, Felicia.”
“Damn. I don’t suppose you want to warm my bed for old times’ sake then?”
“As lovely as the offer truly is, I have to pass on this one. Laura is quite the jealous wife.”
“She’s so stuffy. I don’t know what you see in her.”
Remington smiled in spite of the situation. “Felicia, I think the better question is ‘what does she see in
me?' ”
“Oh, darling, I’ll spell it out chapter and verse. Now tell me what I’m supposed to do again and exactly
how I’m going to get paid.”
Steele strolled into the safe house, whistling a happy tune.
“Damn it, Steele! I told you to let my team cover you, and the first thing you do is give us the slip,”
Buchanan yelled. Peterson sat on the sofa near Mrs. Steele nursing his soft drink, content to let his
senior do the berating.
“Sorry, lads. We have an unexpected development that just might solve all our problems,” he shot back.
He crossed to Laura and kissed her full on the lips before sitting on the arm of the chair next to her and
winking at Mildred. “An old friend happens to be the contact. I’ve cut a deal already, but I want
guarantees that Interpol will leave my friend alone.”
Peterson turned a little green. “You get your slate wiped clean and now you want to start helping your
friends?”
Steele leaned forward into Peterson’s face. “I will do whatever is necessary to protect Laura. If that
means lying, cheating, stealing, or bringing in Interpol, I will do whatever is bloody necessary. If I have
to call in every buggering contact and favor I have in Europe, O’Callaghan will never get his hands on her
again. I’m playing this your way because it’s what Laura wants me to do. But if your little operation
can’t make this happen, we’ll do it with mine.” His voice was pure steel.
But Brian stood up, forcing him back. “What you forget, Blaine, is that for now I’m on your side.
Pissed off, but I’ve got your back. That gives me the right to question your motives from time to time.”
“I’ve already told you my motives. Understand those and everything else I do will make sense. Now,
are you going to cut my friend some slack here or do we have to throw away our best chance of nailing
the buggering bastard to the wall?”
Peterson and Buchanan exchanged looks. Finally, Buchanan shrugged. “This time. No promises about
next time.”
“That’s all I’m asking. Mildred, she’ll recognize you, so I need you at the drop. Murphy, I want you
backing up Mildred. You two will be playing indeterminate security forces for the evening.”
Laura sat straight up in her chair. “She? Felicia? Felicia’s your contact?”
Remington grinned. “Couldn’t have asked for a better stroke of fate.” Peterson slammed his fist into the
nearest wall. “Ah, I see you have a fat file on her as well.” Remington was amused at the man’s
reaction. “Shall we move to the table and I’ll lay out the logistics?”
The exchange was to take place tomorrow night in London at a small restaurant in Chelsea. Remington,
Murphy and Mildred planned to fly out in the morning from Cork. They wanted to give O’Callaghan
every opportunity to see that Steele was following through on his end. Peterson and two of his agents
would follow in a chartered flight provided by Interpol and land at a small private airport. Both teams
were to survey the small restaurant and set up decent vantage points to protect Steele as much as possible
from any sort of double-cross or assassination. After the transaction, the entire team would spend the
night in London at a small hotel before returning to Cork the following day.
In the meantime, Buchanan was arranging for his agent to meet with Johnny Carlisle. He had thought
Laura’s suggestion was an excellent one. One of his ongoing problems with reeling in the Dublin Six was
their amazing insularity. Sometimes the right person at the right time could be insinuated into an
operation just in time to tip things Interpol’s way.
Buchanan planned to remain behind with Laura. For one, he needed to run the operation at the castle
and two, Steele wouldn’t budge if Laura was as risk. The safe house was the best place for her to be in
this circumstance.
Remington suspiciously eyed his wife, wondering why she wasn’t insisting on going to London with him.
He had his arguments primed and ready, but when Buchanan quelled Laura’s opening volley, she
subsided without a word.
In bed that night he tried to figure out why. “Laura, I’m surprised at you. I rather thought you would
want to come along. Especially since Felicia is involved.”
“I’d love to be there, but let’s face it, you don’t need me. You’ve got Murphy and Mildred. In fact, I’d
be a major distraction to you, the way I see it.” She was quite blunt. Remington couldn’t detect any
hesitation or fear in her voice. And he couldn’t disagree with her either. “Do I need to worry about
Felicia?” she asked, trailing her hands down his throat.
“No.” He nipped at her finger.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Are you saying you’re not the jealous type?”
“Rei, jealousy implies a certain lack of trust. Not of her, but of you. I trust you. What I would like to
know is, what are the chances in a thousand that she would be your contact?”
“Actually, pretty good, since we’re supposed to be fencing stolen merchandise that happens to be
expensive and pretty. But it’s still a nice piece of luck.” He stroked her hair, enjoying the feel of the
strands falling through his fingers.
“Then I’ll have to thank her for it later. I just hope she doesn’t cause any trouble for you.” She pressed
her lips to his collarbone.
“Felicia? Only if it’s for her own gain. I’ve got that covered. Honor among thieves and all that.” He
shifted, pulling her on top of him. He forgot about her knee as she straddled him.
“How?” She stripped off her night shirt, exposing her bare body to him in the pale moonlight.
“I’ll tell you later. Right now, you happen to be a significant source of distraction to me. You wouldn’t
want to send me off pining for you, would you, and with the image of you like this burned into my
brain?” His hands stroked her waist and thighs.
“We couldn’t have that now, could we? I’d much rather have you thinking of this.” Remington closed
his eyes as Laura’s mouth scorched a trail down his body.
Fifteen minutes after the three detectives left for the flight to England, Laura threw her small carry-on
bag in the pile next to Peterson’s. Buchanan leaned against the front door. “You’re not going.”
“I can either catch this flight or the next one; it’s your choice, but I’m going to London.” Her voice was
calm, but very firm.
“Mrs. Steele, I cannot allow you to be a part of this operation. I promised Mr. Steele.”
“I’m not asking to be a part of this operation. I know I would only be a liability. I’m not interested in
breaking Remington’s concentration. But I’m going to be in London and wait for him to come home. It’
s safer for me to fly on your plane, but if you won’t let me aboard, I’ll catch the next flight from Cork.”
Buchanan crossed his arms and looked down his nose at Laura. “Why?” he asked.
“We spent too many years wasting time. I’ll be there when he’s done.”
“You’re still injured.”
“Not by much. I couldn’t run a triathlon, but I can hold my own.”
“You know he’s going to call here.”
“No, he won’t. He’ll call when it’s done, and by then, he’ll have already found me.” She sounded very
sure of herself.
“Do you know where you’re going?”
“I even have a set of keys.”
Buchanan shrugged. “This is between you and Steele. As long as you stay out of the operation and
agree to a bodyguard, I’ll put you on the plane.”
That promise only lasted an hour. Laura was changing clothes when she heard the phone ring and
Buchanan’s subsequent swearing that echoed through the little house. Curious, she eased down the stairs
and ostensibly poured a cup of coffee.
Buchanan had his jaw clenched and arms crossed while he glared at the telephone.
“Coffee?” she offered.
“Ah, no, thank you though.” Buchanan closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “I’m going to regret
this.”
“What’s that?” Laura made sure her voice was neutral.
“Our agent that was to make contact with Carlisle was in a car accident an hour ago. She’ll be okay, but
she’s in surgery for a ruptured gall bladder. There isn’t any way she can make the meet tonight.”
Laura waited patiently, forcing him to make the request.
“I don’t have another agent that matches her description that I can get here and prep in time for the
meet. The two of you have relatively the same build and coloring, so I can substitute her back in later.
Will you go?”
“Where?”
“London. Little place called La Gavroche. We know he has reservations for eight this evening.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Figure out a way to get the information to him. If O’Callaghan makes the call, I want you to pass that
on. If he doesn’t, I want you to let Carlisle know about the money from the diamond.”
“You’re assuming that my husband pulls off tonight without a hitch.”
“Yes, ma’am. I don’t have any reason to believe it will fail.”
“Who will be covering me?”
“My agent’s partner. He’s already in place as a waiter.”
“All I have to do is pass the information and get out?”
“Yes. Once Cynthia is back on her feet, she can take it from there.”
“You can shake the tail when I’m done?”
“Guaranteed.”
“Then I’ll do it.” Now, how am I to explain this to Remington?
“Excellent.” Buchanan heaved a sigh. “Got any ideas how to pull this off?”
“Actually, I do.”
Peterson dropped Laura off at Daniel’s flat in London four hours later. Remington and the others were
avoiding the house just in case they were being followed. Instead, they canvassed the area and ate lunch
across the street from the restaurant.
Buchanan reported to Peterson that the possible hit men had been narrowed down to two. An agent was
tapped in to the phone lines, poised to intercept the call.
By seven forty-five that evening, the agents, along with Murphy and Mildred, were in place. At eight,
the detectives watched a statuesque blonde stroll into the restaurant, escorted by a swarthy gentleman
somewhat shorter than she. They had a table reserved in a quiet corner of the restaurant, resplendent
with white linen and chandeliers.
Ten minutes later, Remington, in his guise as Michael O’Leary, took his seat across from the pair,
making sure his back blocked the public’s view of the transaction about to take place. In his weathered
leather coat and cap, he looked odd in the elegant room, especially with Felicia looking scrumptious in a
white gown with thin straps holding up the bodice.
Felicia introduced herself as Katherine DeBurgh and her escort as August Léglise, a wealthy Frenchman
with an eye for the unusual.
“So you’re the toff who wants to buy the rock,” O’Leary declared in a rough Irish accent, spattered with
the odd Cockney phrasing.
"Katherine" translated for the Frenchman, who nodded and shrugged. O’Leary pulled the package from
his coat and handed it to Léglise. The buyer tugged off the wrappings and turned the stone this way and
that. It was obvious he had no idea what he was to look for. Without a word, he handed the stone to
Katherine for examination.
She used her own flashlight and loupe to examine the rock in careful detail, one small section at a time.
She brought out a tiny testing kit and carefully checked the exposed part of the diamond for authenticity
and color. The whole process took nearly thirty minutes. O’Leary and Léglise quietly sipped their drinks
while she studied the rock.
Steele mentally applauded Felicia for her diligence. She probably knew more about the diamond now
than he did, and he was sure he would have to account for it later. All in all, she would have made an
excellent gemologist, but since that too closely resembled actual work, it would never hold any appeal for
her.
Felicia winked at him before rewrapping the stone and putting away the testing kit. In French, she
explained to Léglise that the rock could be carefully cut to reveal approximately a one caret diamond.
Inwardly, Remington smiled. He hadn’t fooled her for a minute. The rest would be up to him.
Léglise grinned broadly and spewed French at her while he kissed her hand. She laughed and waved him
away. “He’s quite excited and wants to close the deal. I recommend a price of £575,000 for the uncut
stone. He has a cutter that is willing to take on the risk.
“No deal, O’Callaghan wants eight-fifty.” O’Leary shoved his bottle away while Katherine explained the
price. The Frenchman frowned and counter-offered with £650,000.
O’Leary shook his head and made to leave, giving her a little buss on the hand and pocketing the stone.
Léglise made one more demand and she stopped him from leaving. “£750,000. Last offer.”
O’Leary sat down and shook the Frenchman’s hand. “Done.”
Léglise flagged a waiter and had a telephone brought to the table. O’Leary slid a sheet of paper, signed
by O’Callaghan, across the table. Via phone, Léglise transferred £600,000 to the account number written
on the paper. With a raised pair of eyebrows at the percentage, he transferred another £150,000 to an
account O’Leary provided.
When the Frenchman hung up, Steele gave a signal behind his back. Peterson, Mildred and Murphy
stepped into view. Remington removed his cap and made one of those shifts from O’Leary to "Jacques
Murrell" as he switched to speaking perfect French. He placed his card on the table.
“Remington Steele of Remington Steele Investigations, Mr. Léglise. I’m quite sorry to inform you that
this woman is attempting to pass off a worthless gem to you. Three certified diamond cutters have
ascertained that the stone is terribly flawed.” He introduced the Interpol man. “This is agent Brian
Peterson, specialist in tracking international jewel thieves.” Peterson flipped out his identification and laid
it on the table as well.
“Worthless? Thieves? How?” Léglise was taken aback.
Steele’s tone was mild as he reseated himself at the table. “Because the man who contracted for the
theft didn’t know it was worthless. Miss DeBurgh is not a certified gemologist. She’s a con artist in her
own right. Peterson here has a file three inches thick on her exploits.”
“Four, actually,” Peterson sneered truthfully. “Let’s go, Miss DeBurgh.” Murphy and Mildred yanked
her out of the seat while she protested her innocence. Murphy snapped handcuffs on Katherine while
she elegantly disputed their claims. The rest of the diners in the restaurant leaned to and fro, trying to get
a sense of the sudden commotion.
“Hold her in the car until I get there. I want to be present when you take her in, Peterson,” Steele
ordered. “Krebs, Michaels, do not let her out of your sight. She’s as slippery as they come.” He
watched as the detectives escorted the woman to the waiting car. Brian took his own chair at the table
while Steele turned his attention back to the Frenchman.
“Now, Mr. Léglise, my apologies for the setup. We were required to wait until the transaction was
committed before having the authority to remedy the situation. I suggest you change your bank account
used for this business immediately so that your funds cannot be further compromised. We will work
closely with the Irish authorities to retrieve your funds. In the meantime, I have a cashier’s check of
£20,000 for your troubles.” Steele removed an envelope from his black jacket and handed it to the
astonished man.
Peterson jerked in surprise. No one at Interpol authorized a cashier’s check. Léglise accepted the check
with alacrity, shook hands with the men, and fled without another word.
Steele grinned and patted Peterson on the shoulder. “That went well. Not too bad for your first time.”
The agent frowned as he worked his way through the scenario.
The men walked out of the restaurant and slid into the waiting car. Murphy had already removed
Felicia’s handcuffs and waited with her in the backseat while Mildred took the front. Remington ducked
into the back with the others while Peterson took the driver’s seat.
“Absolutely perfect, Felicia.” He kissed her on the lips as Brian pulled into traffic.
“Bloody fucking hell!” Peterson suddenly yelled. Felicia and Remington began snickering, then outright
laughing.
“Took you long enough,” Steele snorted.
Murphy and Mildred exchanged quizzical looks. “Boss? What’d I miss?”
“Ms. Krebs, why would a man be willing to take a mere £20,000 in exchange for £750,000?”
“Because he had the gem already?”
“No.” Steele held up the silk-covered stone, still wearing an ear-to-ear grin.
“Ah, then it’s because he’s guilty of something and doesn’t want to be caught. Could it be that he knew
the diamond was stolen?” Steele tapped his nose, indicating she'd gotten it exactly right.
Felicia dug around under the seat in front of her and drew out a bottle of champagne and four glasses.
Sometimes Michael was so predictable. She kicked one of the glasses back under the seat. “Michael,
darling, you’ll have to share with me.” She handed the bottle to him and he popped the cork and poured.
“What do we want to bet that August Léglise doesn’t exist?” Murphy mused.
“No takers on that one, mate.” Remington laughed.
“So if Mr. Léglise doesn’t exist and he closes the account as soon as he gets to a phone, how do we
return his money?” Murphy wondered aloud.
Peterson snarled, “We don’t. We might be able to trace the other six hundred, but your boy here just got
away scott-free with his fee.”
“Ah, there was nothing illegal about my transaction. I was paid to deliver a package,” Steele said. “It
was entirely legal. It’s not my fault the diamond wasn’t stolen. In fact, I had a perfectly legal right to sell
it, although I’m not currently in the market to do so.”
“You’re an expensive courier service, Steele,” Peterson remarked.
“Not my problem, mate.”
Murphy scratched his neck as he worked it out in his mind. “If I’ve got this right, you laid out £70,000
for the red diamond from Malone.”
“Darling, you didn’t actually pay him for it. I’m ashamed at your moral standards,” Felicia drawled to
Steele. She drank from his champagne glass with one hand and used the other to toy with his hair.
“Then you were paid by Léglise for the delivery of the stone, which was twenty-five percent of the
total,” the detective continued.
“£150,000, Mr. Michaels,” Felicia put in.
“And you gave Léglise a check for £20,000 for his ‘troubles,’ as you put it,” snarled Peterson as he took
a hard left turn.
“I’m quite disappointed in you, Michael, you only gave me twenty for mine,” Felicia sighed and patted
him on the thigh. “I expect you to make it up to me later.”
“So if my math is right, you netted £40,000,” Murphy mused.
“And Laura’s bracelet is sure to cost me that, so all in all, it’s been a good night. Cheers!” Steele took a
healthy drink of champagne and grinned at Peterson’s sour face in the rearview mirror.
At the motel, Remington flagged down a taxi. He told Mildred, “I’m taking Felicia to a safe place for the
night. I still don’t trust Interpol and Peterson’s fairly miffed at the whole charade.”
“Are we going to a certain inheritance?”
“Can’t put anything past you, can I, Mildred? I’ll be back in a while.” He gave her a quick hug while
Felicia slid into the taxi.
“Sure thing, boss.” She waved him off, wondering if he knew what he was doing.
In the taxi, Remington and Felicia couldn’t keep the smiles from their faces. It had been a long time
since they pulled off a perfect scam together. The fact that it was underneath Interpol’s noses only
added a fillip of excitement to the night.
It was all too easy to fall into an easy routine of flirting and heavy innuendos as the taxi careened through
the streets of London. By the time, Remington drew Felicia from the taxi-cab, they were high from the
excitement and dashed up the stairs to the flat, laughing as he picked the lock. “Damn, I can’t believe I
forgot the key.”
“Hurry, darling, I’m getting impatient.”
“Ah, there it is.” The door swung open and she strolled through. When he shut and locked it, he asked,
“Impatient for what?”
“For this.” Felicia dropped her coat to the floor and fixed her mouth on his. Automatically his lips closed
on hers, sliding into the familiar kiss. “Oh, darling, you taste divine,” she purred. Her hand streaked
down the buttons on his shirt, releasing them in the process, and wandered farther south. “Look, there
you are. I was quite afraid you had forgotten about me.”
Remington groaned low in his throat, “Felicia, you could wake a dead man three days after he’s been
buried.” His hands clutched her waist.
“Damn, Michael, I’ve missed you,” she breathed between kisses. “Such creativity, such stamina. No
one else ... measures up.”
Chapter 23 -- Deception