Holt Fast, My Love
Part 4: Assessment
Laura marked time throughout the morning, literally.
She’d gone to bed last night in the living room so the rising sun would
wake her. When it did, she set the timer in the kitchen for the
maximum twelve hours, then walked outside to lay a skewer in the sand
where the shadow was cast by the ugly statue.
Each hour after that, she checked the shadow, laid a skewer down and
wrote down the numbers on the timer. As the morning heated up and
the sun approached its highest point, she moved out onto the sand to
watch intently the shortening shadow.
Throughout the long process, Laura had plenty of time to think about
Remington and the significant changes in their relationship over the
past few weeks. As intimate as their friendship had become over
the years, it had undeniably coalesced into something stronger.
Their argument at the spa and subsequent conversation on the beach had
lanced a festering sore that Laura hadn’t realized ran as deep as it
had. She rather thought it surprised Remington as well.
As a result, she’d reappraised their entire association--and discovered
a solid, abiding friendship based on mutual trust. That their
attraction had continued as long as it had spoke well of that aspect
too. And thus, the lock she’d so carefully placed around her
heart opened, letting Remington inside at last.
But to hear him say he loved her had been a final kiss to a healing
wound.
As she basked in the heat and slathered on more sunblock, she decided
she should have been more frightened given her current situation.
But the idea that Remington wouldn’t find her was inconceivable.
When push came to shove, he had the ability to martial any number of
resources that often astonished her.
She did berate herself for not being more careful. The
simple precaution of having a peephole installed in her door would have
prevented the whole scenario.
When the shadows began lengthening again, she jumped up and ran to the
telephone, dialing as she noted how many hours had passed since
sunrise.
“Steele here.”
The sleep evident in his voice didn’t deter Laura in the
slightest. “Remington, it’s noon.”
He only grunted. “It’s eight-forty in the morning, Miss
Holt. Too early for any reasonable human to arise from the
bed.”
Impatiently, she called his name again. “Remington, wake
up! Your eight-forty is my noon!”
She heard rustling and another groan, then, “Got it, love. Do you
know what time the sun came up?”
“I woke at dawn; hold on while I figure it out.” She read back
through her notes. “Uh, somewhere before six, but I can’t give
you an exact time.”
“That’s it, then. I’m meeting Monroe at nine; we’re going over a
map. If all goes well, I’ll be on a plane tonight.”
“Remington,” Laura added thoughtfully, “if you need help with the math
part, call my old friend, Milton. He’s the one that did the
analysis of that jacket, remember?”
“Ah, a moment in our career I’d prefer to forget.”
“Milton or the coat?”
“That part where you were shot. It’s not one of my favorite
memories.”
Laura had fuzzy recollections of coming around in Remington’s arms that
day but knew that it had affected her partner deeply. “I can’t
imagine why,” she said wryly, “but, in any case, Milton’s hobby is
naval history. I seem to recall him talking about sextants and
calculating longitude. He probably has the charts you need.
His phone number is in my Rolodex at the office, but I think he’s
listed in the phone book.”
“Excellent thinking, Miss Holt. I’ll be in the limo today.
Call me there in four hours.”
“I will. I’ll set the timer.”
The line went quiet for a moment. “Ah, Laura? I had a
thought last night.”
“What was it?”
“The phone might have been left there for a reason; you were probably
supposed to find it.”
She’d suspected, but to hear Remington confirm her thoughts had her
pacing and rubbing away the sudden goose bumps on her arms. “Do
you think our calls have been monitored?”
“No. Monroe assures me that isn’t the case. But if the
phone rings, you’ll want to answer it. You’ve been there for over
a week. A regular person would be rather lost by now and
susceptible to the collector’s attention. Laura, if you don’t
answer, your kidnapper might come down to find out where you are.
Let’s not give him a reason to do that.”
“Okay, now you’ve managed to frighten me.”
“I don’t mean to do that, love. I only want you to be
prepared. I think I’ll need another day or two before I can get
you out of there, and if someone gets suspicious, you’ll be moved.”
“Thanks for that, I think.” Laura changed the subject.
“Promise me something?”
“Well now, that depends. If it involves making love to you in the
bathtub, absolutely.”
She rolled her eyes even though he couldn’t see her expression.
“I’m easier than that. All I want is a taste of your cooking when
we return.”
“Hmm, perhaps we can compromise. I’ll make dinner and serve it to
you in the whirlpool.”
The image of the two of them au
naturel in Remington’s black tub eating
whatever gourmet creation he made scorched through Laura’s
imagination. Biting her own lip, she shot back, “I’ll hold you to
that.”
“You know,” he mused, “if I’m not there in under forty-eight hours, I’m
a buggering idiot. Now let me off this bloody telephone so I can
do that. Four hours, love.”
“Four hours, Remington,” she echoed, then clicked off the line.
*****
Remington called Milton, who promptly agreed to bring his charts to
Monroe’s apartment. He couldn’t have lived too far way, for the
two men met in the parking lot within the hour.
“Steele, it’s been a while.”
“I’m sorry it’s not under better circumstances, but Laura appreciates
whatever help you can provide. As do I.”
Milton smiled. “Binky would rap my knuckles if I refused.”
As they climbed the stairs to Monroe’s flat, Remington paused, “Why do
you call her ‘Binky’?”
The other man smiled and scratched his nose. “Before the start of
our sophomore year at Stanford, I was hitting on her in a bar the night
before classes started. She got annoyed with me because I was
pestering her for her name. Finally, she told me it was ‘Binky’
and told me to get lost. Imagine her reaction when she found out
we were assigned to the same lab in physics. I ended up as her
study partner and haven’t let her live the name down since.”
Remington laughed with glee. “That sounds like Laura. She
must have been mortified.”
“Nah. She took it pretty well, and we became good friends.”
Unable to stifle the instant jealousy, Remington asked, “Just
friends?”
“Steele, do you think I would have let her go?”
“You do seem the intelligent type.”
“Well, there you are.”
Distracted by knocking on Monroe’s door, it was only much later that
Remington realized the man had neatly sidestepped the question without
answering. Any admiration for technique was squelched under a
layer of irritation.
After introductions were made, Monroe showed them the map he’d made of
cellular phone towers around the Caribbean and marked the radius of
signals. “I’ve a few friends who helped me out with this one, but
I think I’ve narrowed Miss Holt’s location to a couple of places.
She’s not in the Bahamas. There’s no cellular coverage out there
yet. Miami’s the closest place, but nothing matches her
description.”
Remington laid his notes on the table. “Let’s add this to the
mix. Laura called this morning at eight-forty and said it was
noon on her island.” Milton dug through his tote bag to retrieve
a star chart, another of time zones, and a calculator.
In just forty-five minutes, the three men zeroed in on a tiny string of
islands off the coast of Venezuela near Caracas. Remington made a
rapid phone call asking Mildred to reserve a private plane and have it
ready to fly by mid-afternoon.
Monroe waited patiently for him to finish. “My friend, I have
more information for you.”
The Irishman raised an eyebrow.
“I looked over the list of pilots that you gave me. I made a
couple of phone calls and came up with a name: Ari Tigano. He’s a
known collector of anything that catches his eye. But he prefers
to steal it, not purchase it.”
Remington’s jaw dropped. “Ari? He’s a client of ours.
We recovered a watch that had been stolen from him.” He narrowed
his eyes and bit off a nasty curse. “Bloody hell, it was a set
up, wasn’t it? Laura worked the case, closed it in a couple of
days.” He tipped his head back as he thought it through.
“We met at a … museum. We’d done the security and attended the
opening.” He remembered that Laura wore a red gown that knotted
at the breast and fell in layers to the floor. She’d been
stunning--and apparently, he wasn’t the only one to take notice.
“Aye, mate. It appears he might have had an eye on her. He
lives in San Diego, you know.”
“Does he now?” Remington’s jaw firmed. “I think I’ll be
paying him a visit.”
Late that afternoon, the private jet he hired zipped to San
Diego. In the twilight, the former thief stole between the
houses, hiding in the poor light and lengthening shadows.
What idiot old boy wired this
panel? Remington stared intently at
the crisscrossing electrical wires controlling the security system to
Ari Tigano’s house. He had every intention of making a quick
foray into the house and scoring some kind of incentive to ensure
Laura’s continued safety. Tigano was sure to have some sort of
valuable that would make for handy blackmail if necessary; the trick
was finding it.
Then he saw the problem. He rocked back a step and reassessed the
entire situation with Laura. All of his assumptions had been
wrong.
To Part 5
12
January
2010
