Chapter 20: Inspiration
"No more, Lau-ra," Remington scolded lightly, using his foot to turn off the water. Laura liked her bath water near to the point of scorching, and while normally he didn't mind, when she was with child, he was adamant that she keep the water within reasonable temperatures given the recent literature on pregnancy and excessively hot water temperatures. Stubbornly, she reached for the hot water handle and turned it back on again full blast.
"You're being ridiculous," she protested. "We've been in here for a half hour and the water's gotten cold." He raised a disbelieving brow at the pinkened skin of her back. His foot once again emerged from the water, and turned the handle to off.
"Then, we'll find other ways to heat up, hmmmm?" he asked, trailing a line of kisses over her bare shoulder while a hand slipped beneath the waterline to caress her sensitive waist. With a sigh, she settled back against him as he'd hoped.
They'd spent the first part of their bath, simply reconnecting as he'd stroked either his bare hand or wash cloth over her rounded tummy, relaxing both mother and child. All business had been set aside, it had been time wholly, completely for them, the majority of their conversation centering on the little one soon to come then planning an overnight getaway on the sailboat after the babe arrived and the weather warmed.
"When do your father and Catherine plan on arriving?" she wondered now. Behind her, he frowned.
"Really, Laura, I hardly wish to discuss my father, as I'm trying to seduce my wife," he griped. Her hand caressed his outer thigh.
"Your wife doesn't need to be seduced, Mr. Steele." Her voice dropped and she murmured softly, "I want you." Behind her, he smiled wide, as the hand beneath the water inched upwards the caress, tease, the underside of a breast.
"Ah, Laura, after five years those words still do wonderful things for a man's heart," he mumbled gruffly, as his lips explored the soft skin of the long column of a neck. She tilted her head back to give more access and closing her eyes on a hum, threaded a hand through his hair.
"That's good to know," she answered breathily, then gasped as his hand cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over a puckered peak, "Very good to know."
She shivered at the contact, then shifted away from his hands to turn and straddle his lap. She wanted to feel his skin beneath her hands, to taste his skin against her lips and tongue. She wanted to be the seducer, not the seduced. Her eyes held his and she drew her fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his shoulders then back and down his chest. Her lips found his, tasting him long and slow as she drew her hands upwards again, her fingers settling behind his ears, caressing. She felt his body shudder beneath her as he hummed deep in his throat, and surrendered himself to her to do as she wished.
Ah, he cherished these times, when she sought to show him what he meant to her, what he did to her… when she lost herself in him, in his body, bearing her heart all the while. It made a man feel secure in the love of his woman… and made his heart fall once more into the palm of her hand. As for Laura? She loved that he hid nothing from her, his hands alternately clutching her hips when her tongue blazed along his shoulder, then burying themselves in her hair, as his body arched and he groaned deep in his throat when her mouth settled beneath his ear to suckle and tease. Her heart beat faster whenever he muttered her name with a touch of the accent of his youth turning it melodic, or whispered against her lips as they kissed…
"Ah, mo ghrá, ní bheidh mé in iúl riamh a théann tú."
There was a time when she'd doubted that was true, but she'd been secure in the knowledge that he was fully hers for a long, long time now, and she reveled in it. Which only made her resolved to show him all the more…
Laura shook her head, adamantly, where she lay on her side, facing him, before the fireplace in their bedroom. After they'd dressed in nightclothes and robes, they'd reopened the door to their bedroom so they were immediately available if either of the girls were in need.
"It's too crowded. They'll barely have room to move around, let alone play," she pointed out, indicating the minimal blank areas in the sketch lying on the floor between them. "Why haven't we noticed how small the guest rooms were before?" she lamented. By the time they'd added a second single bed to the rendering of Olivia's new room, they'd had to eliminate one of her nightstands for the furniture and toy box to fit in the room, and even then there was no room to add a second dresser for Sophie.
"It's only for a short time, Laura," he reminded her. "It will suffice until Sophie returns to Clarissa and in the meantime, the living room will simply have to double as their play area." She blew out a frustrated breath, feeling like they were shortchanging both girls by shoving them into an area so small.
"Maybe we should revisit the subject of bunkbeds…" she suggested, tentatively.
"Out of the question," he answered, adamantly. "As we've already agreed, we can't put our little daredevil in the top bunk, as she'll see it as a challenge to fly off, and neither of us wish to make an explanation to Clarissa should Sophie fall out." She plopped her chin into her hand, staring desolately at the paper, then suddenly lifted her head and smiled.
"We could move them into our studio. They'd have all the room they need…"
"Lau-ra," he said her name, plaintively. "Need I point out this room is larger than that which I shared with Zeth, Christos and Melina? The very bedroom you refused to allow us to disassemble? The girls will be fine for such a short period of time." She stared at the sketch, then finally rolled to her back.
"You're right," she agreed, reluctantly.
"Now we've only the paint color to settle upon," he hinted. She'd spent two months pondering the color for Olivia's room, and had yet to declare what it would be. As her brows furrowed in thought, he turned to a fresh page in the sketchbook and began to draw. As he'd done during Laura's pregnancy with Olivia, he'd begun a series of drawings depicting her burgeoning stomach. Setting down his pencil, he reached for his pajama shirt and released the buttons from beneath her breasts downward, then spread it open.
"Ahhh, Laura, there is no sight quite so glorious as you with child," he hummed. They were words, or some similar offering, that he said often to her, yet they never lost their sincerity… or potency. She turned her head, and smiled softly at him, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her hand. He leaned into the touch, then remained still as she studied him, her thumb eventually stroking the fullness of his lip, as she grew increasingly pensive.
"Remington…" She said his name and nothing else. Her heart was hammering in her chest and she wondered if it would always be so nerve wracking to allow herself to be fully vulnerable by sharing her innermost thoughts about them.
"Yes, love?"
"Thank you." His brows drew together in puzzlement.
"For what?"
"I know I don't say it…" her brow furrowed, and she added, "…at least not as often as I should." The frown cleared and she looked at him resolutely. "But times like now remind me of what a remarkable man you are. You are a great partner, my best of friends, and you make me proud to call you my husband." A wide, smile lit up his face, thoroughly tickled by the rare compliments. "Even more so, I can't imagine a more loving, giving father for Olivia and Baby Steele. They're fortunate to have you." His smiled faded as she spoke the last and a lump formed in his throat. He had to swallow, hard, before he could speak.
"You may not say it often, but when you do? My God," he breathed, fingering one of the curls she had left untamed for the evening, then leaned down and kissed her, allowing his lips to linger before pulling away. "Thinking about Clarissa again? I thought we'd agreed to set all that aside for the evening. Hmmmm?"
"It's your fault," she accused lightly.
"Is it now?" He guffawed. "And how is that?" With her head, she indicated the sketchpad.
"It's just one of the many ways you express how you feel about your children. They'll always know how wanted they are, how loved... how important they are." She let out a long sigh, as she thought about the little girl upstairs. "Sophie will never have that. You never had that. So many, too many, children don't. And I have to ask myself: how many mothers would get their children out of those situations if they had the means to do so? A safe place to go? An attorney to safeguard their rights as a parent, so some... some... bully couldn't use their children as leverage to force them to stay?" His eyes roamed her face, then the corner of his mouth quirked upwards.
"Why is it I think you've something in mind to change that?" Encouraged, she struggled to sit up. Pushing himself into a sitting position as well, he leant her a hand, then watched in bewilderment as she stood and walked to her night table.
"I do," she confirmed. "Could we talk about it here, though?" She indicated their bed. "My back hurts."
"Of course," he agreed easily, then joined her on the bed, resting his back against the headboard. He urged her to sit between his legs and lean forward, so he would work out those kinks she'd referred to as they spoke.
"What've you in mind?" He wondered.
"It's going to cost you," she warned. He chuckled behind her.
"Us. You mean us." It was still a habit of hers to refer to bulk of their assets as 'his' as the majority of their portfolio came from his escapades prior to him becoming Remington Steele, his inheritance from Daniel and then entitlements settled on him by his birthright... not to mention his significant and profitable investments in years since.
"Alright, us," she agreed. "We are the recipients of an obscene amount of money each year because of that entitlement of yours, money we neither need nor will ever be able to use."
"Why do I think that's about to change?" He posed the question as his hands settled at the small of her back, his sensitive fingers searching out kinks and knots. She laughed softly.
"Oh," she drew out the word, "I don't intend to send you to the poorhouse," then added in an undertone, "Not that I could." He laughed soundlessly at that. "But I think we could employ a very small percentage of it to make a difference, while, for the most part, falling in line with your investments," then she added for good measure, "And Mildred will be praising you for the write-off."
"Lau-ra, just share what you have in mind," he prodded. She blew out a short breath.
"I'd like us to consider buying six or so three to four bedroom houses, outside of LA." She unfolded the map. "In small, quiet communities such as Wrightwood, Warm Springs," she pointed on the map to the areas she was speaking of. "Property values are reasonable, and while removed enough from LA no one would think of looking there, they're still in close enough proximity for us to make spot checks and assure they're being maintained."
"And what are we to do with these houses?" He questioned.
"I'd like to work with various domestic abuse shelters, maybe even schools to get referrals for women with children trapped in situations they can't get out of because they don't have the financial means." His hands stilled, then began moving again. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign... or bad... but she certainly had his attention. "We'll provide a fully furnished home rent free and guarantee their utilities for the first six months, will help them with job training or to find a job. After the six months, they have the option of staying on, renting the house at fair market value, in which case we buy another, or they can decide to move-on, opening back up that property. Ultimately, I'd like to have a dozen homes housing mothers and children in distress."
"Safe houses, so to speak." She nodded, wincing when his fingers found a particularly tender spot.
"And who's to run this venture, foundation, charitable endeavor whatever you wish to call it?" he questioned. "We've already our hands full with the Agency, and, as selfish as it might be, I don't want the cost to be time with our children... or you."
"I don't know," she admitted. "Melina, maybe initially, if she's interested. Jocelyn? She's bored out of her mind with her modeling career on hold indefinitely."
"Anything else?" She gave him a face over her shoulder, then nodded. "And that might be?"
"I want to hire an attorney, a family law attorney, retained to this..." She waved her hand at the air, unable to come up with the word, "… endeavor... full-time to be used to expressly to help those families currently housed with legal issues, such as custody, and to take on case-by-case basis on referrals from schools and agencies, where a man is using children as leverage to force a woman to stay."
"Alright. I've a question or two." She sighed again.
"I thought you might. What are they?" She asked, prepared for him to argue to the costs involved.
"If this... endeavor... is linked to us, formed by us, it would seem to me we know all too well a property search of our names could reveal the location of these homes," he observed. "If that link is ever discovered, it could easily lead to any family's front door. Any idea how to keep that from occurring?" He continued to work on her back as she contemplated the question in silence as he knew she would. Finally, she stirred.
"We could start a dummy corporation, and investment group," she proposed, "Or title the properties in the names of people we trust with no association to the Agency or endeavor. Donald and Francis, my Mother under her maiden name, just as an example."
"Depending on the housing markets in the area you suggest, it could be a large financial investiture initially," he noted. "Are you prepared for those expenditures?"
"Will they be any larger than the four places we've bought for our interns to use during their apprenticeships?" She argued, then added, "Given those places were in the heart of Los Angeles, I'd be willing to bet we could buy six homes for less than what we spent on those."
"True, true," he conceded.
"I'll even commit twenty-five percent of the Agency's net monthly profit to the endeavor," she added, trying to gain some leverage.
"Don't be ridiculous," he rebuffed. "As you said, we've more than we could ever spend coming in from my entitlements alone. It's a good idea... inspiring, actually." She sat up fully and turned to face him, smiling.
"Do you really think so? I know there are details that need to be worked out, but..." He leaned forward and kissed her swiftly.
"I do," he answered firmly. "Now, can we put all business matters aside for what's left of the evening and focus upon what's most important?" She gave a decisive nod of her head.
"Where were we?" She asked aloud, then recalling stretched out on her back, and spread open her shirt so her belly was fully exposed. "Right about here, wasn't it?" Chuckling, he retrieved his sketchpad from the end of the bed.
"Indeed, it was," he confirmed, as his eyes fastened on her tummy when it rippled from left to right. Dropping the sketchbook for the moment, he lay his hand on her stomach and enjoyed the movement of Baby Steele under his hand. "I shouldn't think the tarts would still be giving her fits this evening.
"He is showing his appreciation of that sundae," she sighed. "But it was worth it." Her lips tipped upwards, and a mischievous glint came to her eyes. "Care to make a wager, Mr. Steele? Girl or boy?"
"Oh, I suppose that would depend on the terms you have in mind." She glanced towards their open doorway then wagged a finger for him to bend down until his ear was next to her mouth. As she whispered, his brows nearly reached his hairline. "Any?" She nodded her head. "Even..." She waggled her brows at him. "I believe we have ourselves a wager, Mrs. Steele and I've a lot to consider over the weeks ahead." He picked up the sketchbook and his pencil began flying across the paper. "We're running out of time to make a few decisions, love. Have you decided if you'll get the epidural this time 'round?"
"Yeah, I have," she answered. "After our talk with Dr. Adams, and reading the most recent medical literature, I'm going to go ahead and have it." He carefully schooled his face, so she wouldn't observe his relief at her words. The very idea of witnessing her in as much pain as she'd been during Olivia's delivery made him positively queasy.
"Have you made a final decision on Godparents?" They'd been torn between Zeth and Calista or Monroe and Jocelyn. In the end, she'd left the final decision to him.
"I've found I'm rather fond of the idea of both my brothers being the children's godparents," he acknowledged. "It makes it nice and tidy, to begin. But even more so, the idea of having both the children tied to Greece appeals to me."
"Me, too," she admitted. The only deterrent from making that decision in the first place, was concern Melina would feel left out. But Melina already held an advantage over her two older brothers: she was able to spend every day with her niece, given her current living arrangements. "And your father?"
"Arriving next weekend, actually. He and Catherine wish to spend some quality time with Olivia before the babe comes along."
"We may have to build-"
The thought was left unfinished as whimpers were broadcast into the room by the baby monitor. Laura, with a bit of a struggle, got to her feet.
"I'll see to Sophie," she volunteered. "Finish your sketch."
By the time Remington had put the finishing touches on his sketch, the room across the hall had long before fallen silent. Picking up the measuring tape, he went downstairs to return them to the office, then began the process of locking up the house for the evening. When he passed the kitchen, he paused and laughed with amusement. A sheepish Laura peeked her head out from around the refrigerator door.
"He's hungry." He leaned his backside against the island, and crossing arms and ankles, his eye twinkled with amusement.
"All that tumbling about gave Baby Steele an appetite, did it?" Her only answer was to scrunch her face at him. "So, what's it to be tonight? Pickles dipped in whipped cream, or cottage cheese covered in chocolate sauce and relish." With a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes, she closed the refrigerator carrying with her a plate bearing a hotdog left over from the prior night's cookout... covered in strawberry jam. Setting the plate on the counter next to him, she forked off a bite.
"Wanna bite?" She asked, holding up the next forkful. He shriveled his nose.
"My taste buds have yet to forgive me for my foolishness in sampling your chocolate mousse cake and green olive concoction... which, I must remind you, you insisted was 'divine'."
"It was." Her brown eyes sparkled with amusement up at him.
"Perhaps to the pregnant amongst us," he retorted. She pointed her fork in his direction.
"That's your fault," she countered, pertly. As predicted, a goofy grin spread across his face.
"Mmmmm, that it was," he admitted. "However, I might add, not without help." He tapped his lips against her cheek and relieved her of her empty plate. A quick wash and dry while Laura helped herself to a cup of water, and they were ready to return upstairs.
"What's this?" She asked, pausing at the dining room table, and picking up a manila envelope which hadn't been there when she'd gone upstairs earlier. Prying open the flap, she removed the paperwork. "Guardianship papers. Did you know-"
"Must've come while we were elsewise engaged." She merely hummed, studying the papers as he directed her with hand to back up the stairs and to their room.
"I'm not an expert on guardianship matters, by any means," she mused aloud, "But these seem rock-solid in my eyes." She handed him a set of the papers. "Would you mind putting these in the safe? We'll drop a copy off at the hospital tomorrow morning on our way to the preschool, and then once Sophie's enrolled, keep the second set in the safe at the office."
Paperwork safely put up, the couple retired, each speculating how many times they would be roused during the too short night.
It had been a busy morning, between getting two three-year-olds dressed, fed and ready to leave for school, not to mention themselves. Melina, as she'd been since her arrival, had been a godsend once more, assisting with the girls. She'd even gone so far as to insist she'd stay at the daycare for a couple of hours, to make sure Sophie acclimated as best she could. To that end, Laura flipped her the keys to the Jeep, insisting she'd ride with Remington.
After a quick stop by the hospital, where the guardianship papers had been dropped off with the charge nurse in Surgical ICU, Sophie had been enrolled in school with minimal trouble, but many a curious look. The couple was not particularly interested in answering any questions as to how they'd come to be in guardianship of the little girl, and side stepped each. Melina would pick up the girls at three, then tend to them until Laura and Remington returned home from work. They'd accompanied the girls to class then had waited until Olivia was showing Sophie around the classroom before leaving.
They'd arrived at the office at after nine, and asked Bernice to inform the entire staff to meet in Remington's office at once. By the time they'd made themselves their morning glasses of tea, everyone had filed in and taken a seat. With a bit of help in the form of Remington's hand, Laura managed to wriggle up to sit on the corner of the desk, he then taking a seat in his chair. Without adieu she began.
"On Saturday evening, Detective Jarvis showed up at our home with a surprise in the form of a three-year-old child, under the mistaken belief she was Mr. Steele's daughter by another woman." Brandon and Zack exchanged looks, while Marvin, BB and Kiara shifted uncomfortably. Only Celek gave no indication of what he was thinking. "Jarvis was intentionally misled by a former client, that child's mother, in an attempt to protect her daughter."
"Why-" Zack began to ask, only to be cut off when Laura held up a palm at him.
"Let's save any questions until after we're done." When a glance confirmed all were in agreeance she continued forward. "Our former client, Clarissa Jensen, was attacked in her own home on Saturday evening by two men, hired by the father of her daughter to kill her. Sophie, that child, witnessed the attack and can potentially identify the perpetrators. Needless to say, she is a very traumatized little girl." She looked at Remington to continue.
"Sophie's father is a high-ranking official with the LAPD," he stepped in on cue. "A corrupt official. The victim has confirmed the men who attacked her are cops, although she can't identify them by name. We have no idea how deep the corruption spreads, so for now, we trust no one within the LAPD. We neither want them to discover we are investigating, nor to put a stop to our investigation. This investigation will be the number one priority of our Agency until we can prove Sophie's father is at the helm of this particular ship, so speak."
"We've had the opportunity to twice now interview Ms. Jensen," Laura resumed the lead. "She has identified the man behind everything as Deputy Chief Gabriel Castoro." Murmurs went up around the room, and she held up her hand again. "During their years of... association... Ms. Jensen has overheard enough that she now has become a threat to him and his organization, whatever that is. She can testify the gang hit in Westside last summer, which instigated weeks of unrest, was not, in fact, gang retaliation but the work of Castoro, although we don't know the reason why."
"Mildred, your division will focus on locating every account, holding, property and the like that Castoro has, here in the states and elsewise. Once identified, make use of his financials to determine an estimate on profits gained by way of his shady dealings," Remington instructed.
"Brandon and Kiara, given your backgrounds, we'd like you to reach out discretely to any contacts, associates, and find out if anyone knows why Castoro had it in for the Westside 13. We need to figure out what he has his hand in and to be able to prove it." Laura assigned.
"Monroe is working a similar angle on his end," Remington added. "And I'll be reaching out to some contacts of my own." He ceded the floor to Laura.
"Zack and Celek, we'd like you to sit on Castoro when he's not at headquarters. If he goes out to lunch, we want to know with who. If he has someone stop by his home, we want to know who," Laura instructed. "Brandon, Kiara, the two of you will be trading off every other evening with them, so one team is not stuck with all the late nights." The pair nodded their heads in agreement. "If you get enough identifying information on anyone, recognize anyone, I want that information right away so Mr. Steele and I can run full background on them. Brandon, for right now, any security installations you and Kiara are overseeing will be taken over by Mr. Steele." Laura paused and looked around the room. "Now, any questions, comment, insights?"
"Earlier this month, Castoro was featured in the LA Times prior to the Policeman's ball," Zack spoke up. "I seem to remember mention of an ex-wife, his current wife, his children and even his parents. It may be a start for Mildred, BB and Marvin as place to dig in." Remington and Laura exchanged a look. They'd had no idea Castoro was married.
"Mildred, ask Bernice to pull the article out of the Times online." She frowned, thoughtfully. "Tell her once you have that, I'd like any and all articles on Castoro from all major newspapers in LA."
"You got it," she agreed. "I think we'd be smart to see if he has any accounts in Clarissa or Sophie's names as well."
"Valid points, Mildred," Laura commended.
"What about the cases we're currently working?" BB inquired.
"I'll work with Mildred on the cases white crimes is handling and will keep them moving forward. Celek, Zack, any cases you're working will be handed off to Mr. Steele and myself. Given the way things stand," she rubbed her belly and gave them a rueful look, "I won't be out on the streets. There may be times that we'll have to utilize some of Monroe's most trusted men to sit on Castoro instead until your cases are wrapped up."
"And the child?" Celek finally spoke up. "Shouldn't someone be… standing guard… over her, if she's a witness, as you say she is?"
"Already taken care of," Remington advised.
"We're in for some long days ahead of us," Laura observed. "All of us. I won't pretend it'll be easy, but our—" She paused at the intercom on Remington's desk buzzed. He plucked up the headset off the base.
"Yes, Mrs. Wolf… I see… Give us one minute to step in Mrs. Steele's office and we'll take it in there." He hung up the phone, to watch Laura already wriggling down off the desk with the aid of Marvin's hand.
"Bennett's on line one," he informed her.
"We'll just be a minute," she told the group. "Talk amongst yourselves, brainstorm. We'll be right back." Remington escorted her into her office, closing the door behind them, and they exchanged positions: she seated in her chair, his hip perched on the corner of her desk. A long, slim finger punched line one, placing the call on speaker.
"Steele, here," he intoned.
"Mr. Steele, Dr. Bennett. Is Mrs. Steele with you?"
"I am," she answered for herself. "Is everything alright, doctor?" Silence extended for seconds, and the couple exchange worried glances.
"I'm sorry to inform you, but Ms. Jensen went into respiratory distress at eight-forty-three this morning, and despite our best efforts, we were unable to save her," he announced, solemnly.
"But she was doing to much better yesterday," Laura protested, as Remington reached for her hand. "Her breathing was fine."
"She'd been making remarkable strides given the gravity of her injuries," Bennett concurred. "Enough so, that after rounds this morning I'd planned to move her out of ICU into a post-surgical room." He paused and they could hear him release a long frustrated sigh. "I don't want to sound paranoid…" He let the thought trail off.
"But…" Remington elongated the word, clearly indicating the man should finish the thought.
"Given her status during rounds this morning at seven and the abrupt change. I'm not saying it's impossible but… Laura's hand flinched within Remington's.
"Dr. Bennett, are you saying—" she began, for him to cut her off.
"I've ordered a complete autopsy based on my suspicions that she died of a pulmonary embolism, one not caused by natural events," he finished, then thought to add. "I've secured the personal belonging she came in with, if you'd like them." Remington glanced at his watch.
"Yes, yes, I'll send round my sister, Melina Androkus to pick them up," Remington answered. "No one will recognize her."
"Very well. Just have her ask for me at the desk, and I'll inform to staff to page me as soon as she arrives." There was a long pause. "I don't know what to say, other than I'm terribly sorry."
"It's not your fault, mate. Thank you for letting us know. Bye-bye." Punching the line and disconnecting it, he stood, and reached for Laura's other hand, helping her to her feet. She leaned her forehead against his chest and he rested his chin atop it.
"She's dead," she said desolately. "No matter how I felt about her after—"
"Let's not go there, eh?" he advised, rubbing a hand over her back. She nodded her head in answer, then stroked her hands up and down against his sides as she leaned back her head to level troubled brown eyes on him.
"How are we going to tell Sophie?" Equally distressed blue eyes met hers, before lifting a hand and rubbing it against his mouth while shaking his head.
"I don't know. I don't know," he admitted. "Although I think the question that begs to be asked is: what happens to her now?" It was her turn to shake her head.
"I don't know," she answered, drawing out the last two words, sadness threading them. "But she's not going anywhere until we know she's safe."
"Agreed." He touched his lips to her forehead, then indicated his office with the nod of his head. "Perhaps we should update the staff, then send them on their way? Hmmmm?" She stepped out of his embrace, and smoothed her hands over her dress.
"I suppose we should," she agreed. She couldn't recall anything in recent history she wished to do less than make this announcement.