Steele Dating

Vol. 2; Ch. 11

By R.J. Harrington,

Laura took a deep breath and extended her hand for the next introduction into the political arena. The DA, former mayors and several high-society types eager to sway policy with their checkbooks swarmed soon-to-be Mayor Bradford and his date.

Laura tried to make eye contact, but more often than not spent time scanning the crowd, studying the wait staff and taking inventory of possible hideouts for anyone wanting to attack.

She was joined by two state troopers flanking Brock as he meandered through the crowd toward their table at the front of the room. More than 800 people packed the Veranda Ballroom, which made it difficult to track anyone more than a few seconds; and she still hadn't found Remington.

They reached the candle-laden tables near the stage and checked the card markers for reserved seats. Once seated, Laura's view of the room worsened as did her anxiety.

She knew the room was filled with undercover agents and troopers, but not all of them knew of the plot. She would be the closest to him. She checked her watch – 7:50.

If Wellston's note was correct, they had 17 minutes.

"We'd better head to the stage."

Brock slid Laura's chair from the table and led her up the stairs. They took their spots next to event sponsors and the head of the state party, who would do the introductions. Television cameras were propped on blue risers on either side of the room with other print and broadcast media stationed near the back in a roped area. The local public television station chose to broadcast Brock's speech live after the publicity surrounding Wellston's death. She knew Vekmer would be watching. If Laura was able to thwart their assassination attempt, the FBI would have to move fast to save Mildred.

"Good evening everyone. Now, if you will all take your seats, we'll get started."

Laura squeezed Brock's hand.

"Are you OK?"

"Just a little nervous."

"Don't worry. This is old hat by now. They all love me."

If you only knew how wrong you were.

Laura grinned slightly and released his hand.

"…..a native of Encino and LA's next mayor, Brock Bradford!"

The room erupted in whistles and applause as Brock approached the podium, raising his hand in appreciation. Laura checked her watch – 8:04.

She finally spotted Remington in the front row near the corner of the stage. She watched him, expecting at least mouthed instructions or a hint, but nothing.

8:05

"Los Angeles deserves more than partisan bickering and politics as usual. The state and its families deserve a government that is working to make their lives better, and I plan to do everything I can to …" Brock went on, oblivious to the panic that now gripped Laura.

She desperately searched the room's edges for anyone getting into position or retrieving a weapon.

8:06:45

She glanced once again at Remington, who frantically started pointing to the wall near a curtain at the edge of the large glass doors that led to the ballroom's patio.

The barrel of a gun poked around its edge and pointed at the stage.

"Strengthening education, reducing crime and cutting government waste will continue…."

"Get down!!" Laura yelled as she dove to push him out of the way as the gun fired. The crowd screamed and pushed for the exits as officers flushed out the gunman. As the assassin rounded the edge of the stage, Remington leaped and pulled him to the ground. He looked back to see Laura and Brock land on the edge of the stage and tumble onto the floor.

As Laura pulled herself off, she noticed the blood. Remington rushed to her. "It's not me." Still kneeling, Laura looked at Brock. His eyes were closed, but he was still alive, grunting in pain.

"Get back! Everyone get back!" Agents and emergency workers pushed away the crowd, including Laura and Remington. "Is he alright? Is he alright?"

Remington held Laura as they watched troopers and the EMTs load Brock onto a stretcher and quickly whisk him through the side entrance into an ambulance.

"You saved his life Miss Holt."

Laura turned to find Agent Hersley.

"It wasn't just me, Hersley, Mr. Steele spotted the gunman."

Hersley looked puzzled until Remington began to remove his disguise.

"Ah, very clever Miss Holt. I should have known you would disobey my request for Mr. Steele not to be involved."

"Enough of the pleasantries, Hersley," Remington chimed. "Do your men have Mildred?"

"Yeah Steele, she's safe, and Vekmer is on his way for questioning by the CIA. Turns out you can't trust a convicted felon. The group selling secrets at Anritsu offered him a better deal than we could and he took it. We moved in as soon as the gun fired. You took quite a risk Miss Holt. If you had acted even a few seconds earlier, we might not have been able to get to the hostage in time."

"Can we go now Hersley?" Laura said with disdain.

"Sure. We'll need to talk to both of you later for our report."

"You know where to find us."

Remington walked Laura to the limo. They reclined in the back seat as Fred drove to the San Francisco FBI office to meet the agents delivering Mildred.

After a few quiet moments, Laura turned to Remington, who still wore remnants of the glue and prosthetics that made up his disguise.

"Thanks."

"What for?" Remington said with a smile.

"For being there. For being you."

"It's nothing that Dashing Dave can't handle….Dollface."

He put his arm around Laura and she leaned into his shoulder, feeling at peace and protected for the first time in weeks.

********************

After hearing Mildred's tale of captivity on the second floor of a San Francisco row house, the trio headed to the SF General Hospital Trauma Center to drop Laura at the ER. She decided to stay in San Francisco for at least another day to check on Brock's condition. Remington and Mildred would return to Los Angeles in the limo. Mildred certainly didn't need to be alone.

Fred pulled into the circle drive and parked. He opened the limo door, expecting only Laura to exit, but she was quickly followed by Mr. Steele.

"Laura, wait. … Circle around the block Fred."

The two ducked into a sunlit atrium surrounded by tropical flowers blossoming in orange sprays and creeping vines of English ivy.

"Laura," Remington started, shoving one hand in his pocket.

"You were brilliant out there today."

"As were you Mr. Steele."

She continued. "Is that all you wanted to say?"

"Yes … no … I don't like this arrangement, Laura. I certainly have no hold on your life, but I am having a blasted time watching you …" he pointed toward the hospital rooms, then stared at the floor, running his hand over his hair.

"We agreed not to mix business with pleasure Mr. Steele."

"You could have been killed up there, Laura, and all because of him. And, you're going to stand here and tell me he means more to you than …"

"More to me than what?"

"Nothing. You go ahead. Mildred and I will be waiting for you when you return."

"Wait a minute. You are the one who feels cornered by commitment; never telling me how you feel."

"Me, commitment? Really, Laura, I'm not the one who put this relationship on hold."

"I didn't have a choice."

"We all have a choice, Laura. You choose not to make one."

"You want me to make a choice?"

"Something would be nice."

"Fine, I choose to stay here."

Remington could do nothing but stare in her eyes, waiting for her lips to move, retracting her statement. But, he found silence. She struggled to hold back tears, instead giving a hardened front meant to stop the conversation.

"Well, that settles it then. … I'll see you in the office tomorrow."

Remington turned to leave the room. As he stepped through the doorway, Laura spoke in a faint voice.

"No. You won't."

Remington stopped and put his hand on the door frame without turning around. He paused a few seconds without a word and continued through the front door and into the limo. Laura watched the car drive away and wiped the lone tear that glistened on her cheek. She headed upstairs and walked to the room at the end of the hallway.

"We need to talk."

To Be Continued