Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Part 3: House of Steele (R)
Steeling a Dream:
Part 3: House of Steele
Part 3: House of Steele
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Steele Holting On
Chapter Two: Interlude
Dressed as a janitor, Buchanan mopped the floor of the Nassau terminal in the Bahamas and kept a
careful eye on Johnny Carlisle. A quick glance confirmed that the other five agents were in place.
Carlisle paced back and forth in front of the jetway, much as he had for the past eighteen hours.
The Interpol agent had found him yesterday but had quickly realized that he was waiting for someone
or something. Interpol had wanted to know whom or what before arresting him.
A sudden flurry of movement caught Buchanan’s eye. An airport attendant gave Carlisle a message,
and he swiftly walked to a nearby gate where a small plane could be seen through the window.
“Got a bead on that plane?” Buchanan asked over his hidden microphone as he mopped his way over
to the glass.
“It’s a private jet out of Ireland. We’re checking into the ownership and flight plan now.”
“Good. Doors are opening. Two men, late thirties … armed … and a young girl … mid-teens, long
brown hair … could be O’Callaghan’s daughter. Men are escorting the girl to the jetway. Carlisle is
watching her. Here we go … remember your orders, gentlemen.”
The moment the girl stepped into the terminal, Johnny took her into his arms--and Interpol stepped in
to disarm the bodyguards and arrest Johnny Carlisle of the Dublin Six. Buchanan kept an eye on the
exhausted, terrified girl as she solemnly watched the agents handcuff her father. Her escorts were
detained, and she was temporarily placed in Interpol’s custody.
Two days later, as Johnny accepted that he would spend the rest of his life in prison, he ordered
Buchanan to take Siobhán to his cousin.
“Which one?” Once a blood test had determined that Carlisle, not O’Callaghan, was likely the girl’s
father, Buchanan had ordered a list of family members in Ireland to be vetted as possible foster
parents. Not a stellar crew, by any means, and most were downright unsuitable.
“Got one in LA. Good chap, fellow that goes by the name ‘Remington Steele.’ ”
Buchanan sighed as he left the interview. It seemed he was going to have to have a long talk with
Steele. But first, he had to go through the American authorities. He called his secretary. “Get me
Roselli on the line again. We’ve got a little unfinished business.”
27 October 2009
Chapter Three: Siobhán
Dressed as a janitor, Buchanan mopped the floor of the Nassau terminal in the Bahamas and kept a
careful eye on Johnny Carlisle. A quick glance confirmed that the other five agents were in place.
Carlisle paced back and forth in front of the jetway, much as he had for the past eighteen hours.
The Interpol agent had found him yesterday but had quickly realized that he was waiting for someone
or something. Interpol had wanted to know whom or what before arresting him.
A sudden flurry of movement caught Buchanan’s eye. An airport attendant gave Carlisle a message,
and he swiftly walked to a nearby gate where a small plane could be seen through the window.
“Got a bead on that plane?” Buchanan asked over his hidden microphone as he mopped his way over
to the glass.
“It’s a private jet out of Ireland. We’re checking into the ownership and flight plan now.”
“Good. Doors are opening. Two men, late thirties … armed … and a young girl … mid-teens, long
brown hair … could be O’Callaghan’s daughter. Men are escorting the girl to the jetway. Carlisle is
watching her. Here we go … remember your orders, gentlemen.”
The moment the girl stepped into the terminal, Johnny took her into his arms--and Interpol stepped in
to disarm the bodyguards and arrest Johnny Carlisle of the Dublin Six. Buchanan kept an eye on the
exhausted, terrified girl as she solemnly watched the agents handcuff her father. Her escorts were
detained, and she was temporarily placed in Interpol’s custody.
Two days later, as Johnny accepted that he would spend the rest of his life in prison, he ordered
Buchanan to take Siobhán to his cousin.
“Which one?” Once a blood test had determined that Carlisle, not O’Callaghan, was likely the girl’s
father, Buchanan had ordered a list of family members in Ireland to be vetted as possible foster
parents. Not a stellar crew, by any means, and most were downright unsuitable.
“Got one in LA. Good chap, fellow that goes by the name ‘Remington Steele.’ ”
Buchanan sighed as he left the interview. It seemed he was going to have to have a long talk with
Steele. But first, he had to go through the American authorities. He called his secretary. “Get me
Roselli on the line again. We’ve got a little unfinished business.”
27 October 2009
Chapter Three: Siobhán