Chapter 8
The late afternoon sun was hanging low in the sky as Amanda sat at the computer in Q Bureau, tapping keys and squinting at the screen. Laura stood behind her, leafing through a binder.
"That takes care of the CIA, NSA, FBI, and the Agency. What's left?"
"Secret Service, Customs, INS, IRS, DEA, and a bunch of others that I've never heard of," Laura replied, consulting the binder.
"You're not supposed to have heard of them."
"I guess so."
"Let's run them all. Give me the code for the IRS." Laura did so, then Amanda went on, "Lee said he wanted a complete list, but I don't think he realized how long it would be. Once we have all the names, I'll cross-reference the list by location and a few other things. That might help narrow it down."
"Good idea," Laura said, then closed the binder and set it on the desk. She wandered around the small office, looking at bulletin boards, mug shots, the vault door, the odd philodendron, and ended up back at the desk.
"You don't have any pictures."
Amanda looked up from the monitor.
"I mean, you share an office with your husband, but the only photos in here are of informants, traitors, and visiting heads of state."
Amanda hit print before answering, "No one knows."
Laura nodded her acknowledgement. They both looked around the office, not knowing what to say. Then Mrs. King spoke.
"This will be done in a minute. Would you like a doughnut? I didn't have a chance for breakfast this morning or for lunch, so I feel a little off. You know, I never let the boys out of the house without breakfast. They're always in such a hurry, but I tell them, 'Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.' Lee is just like them. He never has more than coffee if he can help it. I've been trying..."
Her voice trailed off when she realized she was babbling. She turned to the printer.
"It's done. Let's take it down to Lee and Remington and see what's taking them so long."
*
In the warehouse, a computer screen displayed a brief flurry of messages, then beeped.
"Someone has accessed your file, but it wasn't for long enough to get a trace. The access lasted .08 seconds." The accent was Russian.
A worried American voice replied, "What do you think it means?"
"It was too short for anything of importance. It may have been a routine check or some kind of update."
"Yeah, or it could be someone's on to me."
"I doubt it, but, if you are worried, I will send Vassilly and Marko to the hospital."
The American headed for the door, but the Russian stopped him.
"You will remain here."
*
Lee stared at the stack of paper in Amanda's hands.
"How many?"
"Five hundred and forty-three."
Laura handed him four more pages and said, "We narrowed it down as best we could. There are still a lot."
Lee did a quick estimate of the number of names on the four new sheets and muttered, "I guess I should have expected this."
He leafed through them, then looked at his watch.
"What's taking the medical examiner so long?"
As he said it, a lab technician in a white coat appeared.
"Why don't you all come in? Dr. Lathrop has a real puzzler for you."
They followed the young man through the frosted glass doors and down another hallway. The hall ended at a pair of swinging stainless steel doors. The young man held one open as they all went through.
"Dr. Lathrop is to your left," he said and disappeared back out the doors.
Lee and Amanda rounded the corner and nodded their hellos to the familiar face. Remington Steele was expecting a grizzled, stooped old man with a pocket protector full of pens and thermometers. Dr. Lathrop was a leggy redhead with model's looks and a miniskirt not much longer than her lab coat. The sight stopped him in his tracks.
Laura elbowed him in the ribs as Lee made the introductions.
"Robbie said you've got a head-scratcher for us, Abby."
"I thought so when I sent him out. I think I have it now. You said that there was no way anyone could have gotten into the room and that there was no gun. Come over here and look at the body. It gets better.
"The chest is blown apart. There are bone fragments, muscle tissue, bits of his shirt. The usual for a gunshot wound. The projected angle of the shot and the amount of powder on him are not usual, however."
Lee ventured, "So it was self-inflicted."
"In order for it to be self-inflicted and be consistent with the bullet you found in the wall, there would have to be both an entrance and an exit wound. We've only got one of those."
"So we've got a bullet, no way in or out of the room, and an entrance wound."
"I didn't say it was an entrance wound."
Remington shared a startled look with Laura, then addressed the doctor.
"You're not saying the bullet went from inside his chest out, are you?"
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
Laura exclaimed, "That's impossible! I was up nights trying to figure out how that could be done."
Amanda asked, "You mean you've come up against this situation before?"
"Sort of. I went to a reunion for an agency I used to work for called Havenhurst. We were each supposed to relate our best murder case. Then he," she pointed emphatically at Remington, "showed up with this story about a man alone in a locked room who is shot, but the bullet went from inside out."
Dr. Lathrop was curious. "What was the answer?"
"There was no answer. He made it up to show off. It can't be done." She looked at Shayne's body. "At least I thought it couldn't be done."
"I was without an explanation, too. For a while."
"What have you got, Abby?" Lee asked.
She pulled the sheet covering the body back with a flourish and indicated several small bits of plastic and wire.
Laura picked up one of the larger bits with a pair of tweezers.
"There's lettering on this."
She squinted at it under the light, turning it to get a better angle. She declared, "It's a pacemaker."
Remington said to his wife, "You see, Laura? I told you to ponder it, let it seep into your subconscious, and you'd figure it out."
Laura's response was a playful glare, then she said, "Now we just have to find out who put it in."
*
Vassilly and Marko were inconspicuous in their slightly dingy orderly outfits, but one nurse watched them intently as they passed her station repeatedly pushing the same overfilled laundry cart. She had seen them several times before and thought the short one was cute.
Cardiologist David Steenwyk ignored the three of them as he stepped into the antiseptic hallway and locked his office door. He strode to the elevator and pushed the down button. After a moment, the doors opened. He stepped in.
The elevator deposited him in the dark parking garage on the lowest level of the building. He whistled as he walked to his shiny German automobile and used his key ring to disarm the alarm. As it beeped in compliance and he sat down behind the wheel, Vassilly and Marko got out of a second elevator and walked to their car a few rows away. They followed the doctor home at a discreet distance and parked under a streetlight. The men settled in for another night of surveillance.
The orders were to keep the American spies away from the doctor, but not to kill him unless absolutely necessary. Dr. Steenwyk was a valuable, if unwitting, member of the organization.
*
Lee had decided it was too late to start checking hospitals. He was right; after six, only the night staff was there. They needed to talk to cardiac surgeons who only worked nine to four-thirty if they could help it. He suggested they go their separate ways for the night and meet at the first hospital on the list in the morning.
Just before they reached their cars, Laura watched as Lee pulled Remington aside and whispered to him, then got in his car and drove off with Amanda.
As Remington held the Auburn's door open for Laura, he asked, "Dinner and a movie, Mrs. Steele?"
"What did Lee say to you?" Laura asked as they drove down the dark, nearly empty road to the restaurant Amanda had recommended.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Of course. If it's a lead, I should know."
"It's not a lead. What he said wasn't even case related," he said cryptically.
"Now I have to know," she said, her investigator's instincts kicking in. "What would he say to you, and only you, that's not case related?"
Remington pulled off in front of the restaurant and parked.
"He knows, Laura."
"He knows what?"
"Everything." His voice betrayed no worry or regret.
"Everything? You mean everything? As in five passports, fictional boss, illegal marriage?"
Remington nodded.
Laura thought about this for a moment, then asked, "So what did he say? Is he going to kick you out of the country when this is all over? Arrest us? What?"
Remington chuckled, "No, no. It's nothing like that. Lee is an ok chap. In fact, what he said makes me wish I hadn't done my Gentleman Jim impersonation with him."
"Gentleman Jim," she repeated, trying to figure out the situation.
"Gentleman Jim. Errol Flynn, Alan Hale, Ward Bond, Warner Brothers, 1942."
"I know that. You took me to see it once. Will you just tell me what Lee said!"
Remington sucked in a breath and took her hand. "Lee said, in that blunt American way of his, 'Tell her, you idiot.'"
Laura glanced down at her shoes.
"Laura, he's right. I am not going to preface this with a lot of indecisive prattle: I am in love with you."
She looked up, almost as surprised as he was that he actually said it.
"You are?"
He took her face gently in both hands and said, "I think we've both known that for a long time."
"You're right. I just never thought I'd hear you say it." She paused, then looked him in the eyes. "I love you, too."
He kissed her with urgency. They stayed locked together, ignoring passers-by and the passage of time. When they separated, Remington spoke.
"Laura, I know you saw the ring last night."
"Yes." She was unsure of his tone.
"Marry me."
Chapter 9
"Amanda! We're going to be late," Lee called as he knotted his tie.
She emerged from their bedroom, dressed and ready, but looking a little green around the edges.
"I don't think last night's dinner agrees with me."
"It can't be food poisoning or I'd have it, too. I ate the same squid you did."
"Maybe it's just the thought that I ate squid."
"Probably," he said, helping her into her windbreaker.
They walked to the car.
Amanda said, "Next time, I'm picking the restaurant."
*
"Laura, come back to bed."
"Business before pleasure, Remington," she replied, picking up the telephone and dialing.
"At least you've stopped saying never mix business with pleasure," he muttered as he rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.
Laura called five hospitals before she hit paydirt.
"This is Laura Westlake with the AMA," she said in her best nasal bureaucrat voice. "I'm conducting a study on the differences in cardiac care for federal employees versus the general population. Do you know of any physicians at your institution who deal regularly with government workers?"
The female voice on the other end said, "You know, Dr. Steenwyk was just telling me about some concerns he has on that very topic. He has to use a difference pacemaker for government people. I'm sure he'd love to talk to you."
"Does he have time today?"
"He's extremely busy today, except for a few minutes right at nine. That's probably too short notice for you."
"I'll be there. Thank you."
She replaced the receiver and rapped on the bathroom door.
"Hurry up in there."
Remington dropped Laura at her appointment, then met Lee and Amanda. While they were en route, Laura spoke to Dr. Steenwyk.
"Miss Westlake, what can I do for you?" David Steenwyk was young and handsome. His manner told Laura he was a charmer.
"It's Mrs. Westlake," Laura replied.
Steenwyk mumbled, "Oh."
Laura continued, "Your nurse tells me you have to use special pacemakers on government employees. Why is that?"
"Well, some federal office buildings have a higher concentration or potentially harmful microwaves and other radiation due to special lighting, computers, and so forth. I use specially shielded pacemakers for people in that situation."
"Does the shielding cause any problems?"
"The clinical tests I've reviewed say no, but I'm beginning to wonder. Two patients have died in the last six months from unknown causes."
"May I have their names?"
"I can't do that. Doctor-patient confidentiality, of course."
"Of course. Let me ask you this, then. Was one of them Michael Shayne? He sometimes goes by Michael Louris."
"Michael Louris? He's dead, too?"
"It was his death that prompted my investigation."
The doctor opened a file drawer.
"I might as well show you this." He held a file out to her. "I put his pacemaker in two months ago. There were no complications. Until now."
Laura flipped through the pages. When she came across one written in a different hand, she asked about it.
"Before we decide on a pacemaker, we run tests, one of which monitors the patient's heart rate for a few days. The patient keeps track of his activities, and we see if the cause for the low rate or irregular beat is stress-related. That way we can try to correct the cause as well as the symptom."
Out in the hall, Vassilly and Marko were passing the time pushing the laundry cart up and down, keeping the elevator doors in sight. When Lee, Amanda, and Remington disembarked en masse, they took notice and followed them, at a discreet distance, to the nurses' station.
To the duty nurse, Remington said, "We're colleagues of Laura Westlake. She's meeting with Dr. Steenwyk. Can you direct us to his office?"
Vassilly and Marko became instantly alarmed. They had been looking for Scarecrow or one of his usual associates. Vassilly pulled a small transmitter out of his pocket and pushed its red button.
Inside the office, Steenwyk's chair exploded. Laura dived for cover behind an oversized leather couch.
Remington shouted, "Laura!" as he ran toward the sound. He threw open the door and burst in. He waved his hands in front of his face as he coughed out the smoke that had filled the room. He spotted Laura behind the sofa and pulled her out of the room.
"Anyone else in there?" he asked between coughs.
"Just the doctor, but he caught the full blast," Laura replied, then she remembered the file. She ran back into the thickening smoke and scooped up the pages from where she had dropped them, then reappeared in the hall.
Marko saw the papers and pulled a gun out from under the stack of sheets in his laundry cart. Lee saw it and kicked it out of the Russian's hand just as he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the ceiling, causing a shower of acoustic tile particles.
Meanwhile, Vassilly also retrieved his weapon from the cart. He let off two shots in Laura and Remington's direction, both of which went wide. When he saw Marko break free of Scarecrow's grasp and lunge at the papers, he dove into the open elevator and waved for Marko to hurry up.
Marko snatched the file from Laura, narrowly avoiding capture by both Remington and Lee. He was almost to the elevator when Amanda launched a gurney at him. He tumbled over it, but landed on his feet. Lee tackled him as the elevator doors closed and Vassilly escaped.
While Steele collared Marko and Lee sat on the floor nursing his aching ribs, Vassilly returned to the warehouse.
Tupolev looked him over, then demanded, "What happened to you? Report!"
"Sir, the doctor's files have fallen into the hands of Scarecrow. We were not able to prevent it. They also have Marko."
"Marko is better off than you. You know the penalty for failure."
"But sir," Vassilly pleaded, "we could not have anticipated the involvement of the Irishman and the other American woman."
Anthony Roselli stepped out of the shadows behind Tupolev and said, "What Irishman and American woman?"
"They are working with Scarecrow. The woman spoke to the doctor alone. We did not realize she was involved until the others came looking for her."
Roselli pulled Tupolev aside and said, "You have to let me take care of this."
Tupolev was not persuaded. "The Agency is still grasping at straws. They do not know who they are looking for. You know these others. What are their names?"
Roselli told him.
"They would immediately begin investigating you. That would put undue stress on the network."
"You're not going to have them killed, are you?" Roselli was many things, but he was not a murderer.
"No. The more they fumble around, the feebler the US intelligence services look. It is an added bonus."
"What if they find something? Shayne's papers haven't turned up anywhere. Let me go try to throw them off."
"It may come to that, but for now, you will do nothing. If they find evidence they later discover is false, it may put us all in more jeopardy than we are in now.
"Why are you suddenly so concerned, Mr. Roselli? Scarecrow has been after the European end for weeks. He got nowhere. He will get nowhere here."
"Laura and Steele know me. I could convince them I'm not a traitor and give them a scapegoat. I did it once already. Besides, I'm getting stir crazy cooped up in this place." He waved a hand at the dank surroundings.
"Very well. I will give you an assignment. Locate Shayne's papers, but do not go near the Americans. Stay out of sight."
"But..."
Tupolev raised his voice. "Vassilly, you have another chance. Keep him in line." He pointed at Roselli and continued, "If he disobeys my orders, shoot him."
Chapter 10
Lee slammed the door to the interrogation room and jabbed at the elevator button. He banged the empty notebook against his leg as he waited. He continued to do so as he rode to his floor and walked down the hallway to the office.
"I hope you guys found something," he said to the group.
Amanda commented, "I take it you didn't get much."
Lee held the blank notepad up for them to see. "All I got was his name and that he speaks with a Russian accent. Beyond that, he gave me a story about working in the hospital laundry to pay his way through graduate school. He, of course, had no idea how the guns got into his cart."
"Well, you can cheer up. This file is a goldmine."
"What have you got?"
Laura, who was holding the file, spoke. "First of all, Dr. Steenwyk was suspicious of the special pacemakers."
"Then why did he use them?"
"Orders of the hospital administrator. We called him. He said he received a special request from the CIA."
Amanda added, "When we checked that out, we got nothing. Someone who knows the system, but is outside it, set up the whole thing.
"Look at the pages where Shayne was keeping track of his activities. He's not very specific, but there are some interesting things."
Lee took the file from Laura.
"This covers, what, three days? He spends all his time on the road, at his office, and meeting someone with the initial R. It looks like it takes him about fifteen minutes by car from his office to the meeting place."
He pulled a street map out from a desk drawer and traced a finger across it. "That's a lot of ground to cover unless we can narrow it down."
Laura said, "I think we can. After every meeting, his heart rate goes way down. He has to rest 'by the Reflecting Pool' before driving back to the office. They must have been drugging him."
Lee returned to the map. "That cuts the circle down to just a small sector. Let's go."
"Wait a minute," Remington said. "They know Shayne is dead, so finding the meeting place would be useless."
"Maybe, but it's the only lead we have."
"I think we should try to find the papers to which he referred."
"Francine's already been through Shayne's apartment, office, and car, not to mention your hotel room and half the hotel. What's left?"
Everyone was quiet for a moment.
Laura reasoned aloud, "Shayne knew he was in trouble and came to us. He knew you," she gestured at Lee, "were after him. He was afraid for his life. He asked us for protection, but didn't give us the papers, probably as added insurance for himself."
Lee added, "If I were him, I'd put them where you two could find them in the event of my death."
"But you've been through the hotel. Like you said, what's left?"
Lee shook his head and raised a hand in defeat. When no one spoke, he said, "Let's go."
They drove in convoy along the Potomac to the Lincoln Memorial. Parking spaces were scarce due to the tourists, but they found several in front of a nearby safehouse that was off the usual sightseers' route.
The group walked to the Reflecting Pool. Remington sat down on the edge and looked into the murky water, then looked up at the Washington Monument. This town has a different feel to it when you're on the right side of the law, he thought.
Laura broke his chain of thought. "Let's each take a direction and have a look around. We'll meet back here in half an hour."
Lee said, "Someone should stay here. This is, after all, where Shayne spent a lot of time."
Remington, who was busy tossing coins into the water, volunteered.
Lee and Amanda walked away. Before Laura followed suit, she asked, "Are you ok? You're acting funny."
Remington smiled at the woman who was both his wife and bride-to-be. "I don't mean to, Laura. I was just thinking about the last time I was here."
"Oh? I thought I'd heard all the stories of your sordid past."
"There are too many for that to ever happen. I'll tell you about it some other time. For now, you'd better go have a look around."
She kissed him briefly and strode off. Remington took a slow tour around the pool, trying not to look suspicious as he searched for other people doing the same. When he got back to his starting point, he sat back down. The sun was in his eyes, so he patted his pockets looking for his sunglasses. Not finding them, he headed for the Auburn to get them.
As he rounded a corner, the car came into view. A bright pink parking ticket was wedged under the wiper. Remington collected his sunglasses and put them on, then freed the ticket. He stuffed it into a pocket and strolled back to the pool to wait. The ticket would give him something to read.
Once he had reinstalled himself on the short concrete wall that ringed the Reflecting Pool, he pulled out the ticket. It was an envelope with an address to which to send fines on one side and a long checklist of possible offenses on the other. None of the boxes was checked. Perplexed, he looked inside.
He had read and reread the note several times by the time the others trickled back. Lee was the last to return empty-handed.
He saw the ticket in Remington's hand and remarked, "I see Washington's finest found our cars."
"No, they just found mine. Look inside."
Lee took the envelope, read the note, and said, "What are we waiting for?"
Laura answered, "It says for him to go alone. I don't like that."
Lee reassured her. "This address is on campus. We can be nearby without being noticed. Summer classes are in session, so there are still people everywhere."
The address was an office on the seventh floor of a tall, academic-looking building with freshly painted cinderblock walls and tile floors that were in need of waxing.
Lee, Amanda, and Laura waited in a small room that contained only a table surrounded by eight chairs, but that had a good view of the door Remington was knocking on.
A young man, no more than twenty-two with shaggy, shoulder-length blond hair and a T-shirt that listed the top ten reasons to be a grad student, opened the door and showed him in to a sparsely furnished office, closing the door behind them.
"You here to see the doc?"
Steele made a guess. "That's right."
"She's in the computer lab. I'll go get her."
The young man disappeared into an adjoining room. Remington made himself comfortable in one of the chairs across from the desk.
The door reopened a moment later. Through it came a woman not much older than the graduate student. She had closely cropped chestnut hair above the darkest of brown eyes. She breezed across the room as Steele stood and extended a hand.
She shook it firmly, then took a step back and looked him up and down.
With a sparkle in her eye, she said, "Please tell me you're Remington Steele."
"I am."
"Oh good." She smiled in delight.
"And you are?"
"I'm sorry," she said as she situated herself, not behind the desk, but in the chair next to him. "I'm Catherine Wilcox."
"That young man called you doc."
"Yes, well, that's my title. I just can't get Frank to call me Catherine. Some students can't get used to that. Occupational hazard, I guess."
"What is it you're a doctor of?"
She pointed at a diploma on the wall. "Ph.D. in mathematics."
He nodded. After a beat, she said, "I suppose we should get to it. I take it Mike's dead."
Remington's expression did not change.
"Mike who?"
"Listen, Mr. Steele. I'm not as practiced at the art of doubletalk as you must be. Mike said that if he ever stopped making our meeting, I was to continue to go, but spend my time looking for a white Auburn. When I found it, I was to contact you, and you alone, and tell you everything."
"Why only me?"
"Mike didn't think he could trust anyone else."
"Before you begin, may I bring in my colleagues?"
"Mike said to speak only to you."
"I'll just tell them anyway. It will save us all some time if they're here."
Dr. Wilcox thought about this for a moment, then asked, "Who are these colleagues of yours?"
"There are three of them: the two agents we're working with and my wife and associate, Laura."
"Your wife?" Dr. Wilcox let out a long sigh. "I should have known when Mike wouldn't tell me anything about you."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
She gave him a slightly embarrassed smile, then explained, "When I first got into all this a few months ago, I thought it was great. You see, I'm a fan of spy movies, and I was thrilled to be living one out. You know: danger, excitement, intrigue."
"I can understand that."
"You can? Mike thought I was nuts, especially when he started talking about finding me protection in case he had to disappear. You know how it always goes. The cop, spy, or detective always falls for the woman he's protecting. When I saw you, well, I thought I'd hit the jackpot." She laughed and added, "I think I need to get out of the office more often."
Remington Steele laughed with her, then went to get everyone. He introduced them as they filed in through the narrow door. Lee came in last and shook the professor's hand.
"How do you do? I'm Catherine Wilcox."
She held his hand longer than he expected, causing him to turn just slightly red in embarrassment.
Remington let his friend squirm for a moment, then whispered something to Dr. Wilcox. He grinned as an exasperated look crossed her face and she muttered, "Aw hell."
While Lee introduced himself properly, Remington walked over to Laura.
"What was that all about?" she whispered.
"The good doctor is something of a movie buff."
Laura thought, not another one. "And so?"
"Shayne came to us to protect her as well as clear himself. She was hoping this would work out like the movies where the leading man fell in love with his charge."
"It's too bad for her that this is more like those films where the leading man falls for his female partner."
He put an arm around her waist. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my love," he whispered back, then gave Laura a quick kiss on the cheek.
Dr. Wilcox sat down behind her desk. Lee and Amanda took the two chairs in front of it while Remington and Laura remained standing.
Remington said, "Start from the beginning."
Dr. Wilcox fished a thick manila file folder out of her desk and placed it in front of her.
"Have you ever heard of Project Windfall?"
Lee could not believe his ears. "Windfall?"
"What's that?" Laura asked.
Lee answered, "It's a coding system so secret, they came up with a new classification for it. One that's about ten times better than top secret. Only three people at the Agency even know Project Windfall exists." He turned to Dr. Wilcox and asked, "What do you have to do with it?"
"I designed it."
"But Dr. Alan Babcock gave the briefing."
"Dr. Alan Babcock doesn't exist. Mike made him up and had a friend play the role.
"When I was a grad student, I liked to toy with unsolved problems. I still do. I never got anywhere with them, but it passed the little free time I had when I wasn't studying, teaching, or in class. One day while I was proctoring a test, I was working on one of my favorites and had a flash of inspiration. I showed the result to a professor friend of mine. The next day, Mike showed up at my office and my friend suddenly decided to take a sabbatical in Switzerland. You know, you people are everywhere.
"Mike moved me here, got me this job, and has been keeping me a secret ever since. When he was sent to London, he knew both our side and the Russians were following him. From what Mike told me, our side was after him for treason, and their side was after him for me."
She pushed the file folder across the desk.
"This is all my research."
Lee flipped through the pages of indecipherable symbols and tiny graphs, then asked, "Why did Shayne go to Steele? Why didn't he come to us?"
"Like I said, you guys were after him for being a double agent. He didn't think you would hear him out. He knew his life was in danger, so he went in search of someone to keep me out of the line of fire. That someone was Mr. Steele."
Remington said, "Shayne mentioned papers to us. If we can find them, maybe we can find Shayne's superior and clear this all up. Do you know where he put them?"
"Yes, I do. Mike wanted a place where Mr. Steele could find them, but where someone called Scarecrow couldn't."
Four heads turned toward her.
Lee asked cautiously, "Why didn't he want Scarecrow to find them?"
"Because the Russians have been tailing him everywhere for weeks waiting for him to get to Mike and therefore to me."
Remington had moved to the window and was watching the parking lot. Laura blocked the door to the computer lab while Lee drew his gun and locked the outer door.
Dr. Wilcox looked at them all nervously and asked, "What's going on?"
Amanda answered, "I think we're in trouble. I don't want to alarm you, but he's Scarecrow." She gestured at Lee.
"Alarm me? I'm beyond alarmed." She went to the window and peered out. "If they're not already in the building, they will be soon. Where's the car?"
Remington did his best to point out the Auburn. "It's obscured by a tree, but it's close to the door."
"I wish we could see it."
"Why?"
"That's where Mike hid his papers. If they have figured that out, it would explain why they're not up here shooting at us all. Somebody has to get down there."
"I think it's too late for that," Lee said as he opened the door a crack. "There are six of them, all armed. They're searching room by room. We have to go. Now."
"There's a stairwell at the back of the lab."
Dr. Wilcox opened the door and spoke to her graduate student, the lone occupant. "Frank, remember when I said there might be a time when I'd ask you to do something for me with no questions asked?"
He nodded.
"Well, this is it. Take the files with your research and mine down to the incinerator, then get out of here."
"But that's my thesis."
"Don't worry about that. I have backups. These copies must be destroyed."
He scooped up an armload of folders and headed for the stairwell door.
"Frank?"
"Yeah, doc?"
"Don't come back here until I contact you. Now get moving."
Frank ran down the steps. Dr. Wilcox led everyone to the stairs, but went up.
"There's roof access up here. We can go down the fire escape on the far side, away from the cars so no one will see us. Then it's up to you."
Once they were on the ground, Lee gave orders.
"Amanda, take Laura and Dr. Wilcox and get back to the Agency. Steele, you're with me. Let's go."
Lee and Remington ducked around the corner and ran along the building until they could see the car. There was a man in the open cockpit of the Auburn busily trying to hotwire it.
Remington said, "He won't be able to start it. I've stolen a few cars in my day, so I know how to make a car theft-proof."
The Auburn roared to life and sped off.
"You were saying?" Lee asked as he ran for the Corvette.
Both men got in, Lee at the wheel, and they tore after the stolen car. Lee had no problem keeping up, but no matter what he did, the man in the Auburn would not pull over. He called for backup.
A few minutes later, a helicopter appeared. It was painted to look like a local traffic copter, but when the side door slid open, it revealed several paratroopers in black fatigues behind a Gatling cannon. It dropped down next to the speeding cars.
The man in the Auburn knew he was outgunned and pulled off the road. The helicopter landed on the road, and the paratroopers dragged the man back to it.
Chapter 11
Lee was having the same problems interrogating this prisoner as he had had with Marko. He gave up and retreated to Q Bureau. He met Francine on the way.
"Any luck finding the papers?"
Francine nodded. "We got them. Your friend wasn't very happy with having his car torn apart until Leatherneck told him he'd have it back as good as new by tomorrow."
"Where are they?"
"Amanda has them. They're coded, so it may take a while."
"I don't think so. Those documents were meant for Steele, so they'd have to be in a code a civilian would get, not one of ours."
Lee held the door open for Francine, and they both went in. Amanda and Dr. Wilcox were at the computer, but Remington and Laura were not in the room.
"Where are they?" Lee asked.
Amanda pointed at the vault. "I sent Laura in to find a file about twenty minutes ago. Remington followed her." With a smile, she added, "We haven't seen them since."
Francine crossed the room and stood by the vault door, listening. Then she moved back by Lee.
In a hushed voice, she commented, "Boy, that vault must be larger than I thought. You and Amanda got lost in there while back. Now the Steeles have gone missing in there."
Before Lee could retort, Laura appeared, file in hand, followed by Remington.
"That file system of yours is impossible to decipher. You could save a lot of time by color coding or something," Laura offered as explanation.
Lee looked at Remington, who was trying nonchalantly to wipe lipstick off himself, and said flatly, "Uh-huh."
Francine cleared her throat and announced, "Well, I just came to take Dr. Wilcox down to the briefing room. Shall we, doctor?"
As Dr. Wilcox rose, the telephone rang. Amanda answered it, listened for a moment, then said, "Ok. We'll be right there."
She turned to Remington. "That was Leatherneck. There's a problem with the car."
Laura saw Remington's jaw clench. "Let me take care of it. You'll just get upset. Amanda, why don't we walk Dr. Wilcox down, then you can show me the way to the car."
When they had gone, Lee asked, "How far did you get with Shayne's papers?"
"The computer's chewing on it. I'm afraid I'm no good with these machines, so you'll have to handle it."
"No problem." He leaned over the keyboard and pressed a few buttons. "By the way," he said as he sat down, "how did things go last night? Is that lipstick on your collar a good sign?"
Remington tugged at his collar. "Things went beautifully, Lee. Beautifully." The corners of his mouth went up, and he closed his eyes.
The computer beeped and began printing noisily. Remington's mind turned back to the case.
"Is that it?"
"We've got it. There's a lot here, so it'll be printing for a bit."
The telephone rang again. Lee was busy with the printer, so Remington picked it up.
"Steele here." He listened, then handed the phone to Lee and listened to his side of the conversation.
"Scarecrow."
"Yes, Billy. It's printing now."
"We'll be there in a minute."
"Now? What's up?"
"Just tell me, Billy."
Remington frowned as Lee went quiet and the color drained from his face. He replaced the receiver without saying anything else.
"Lee, what's happened?"
Lee did not answer. He just sat there, both hands flat on the desk in front of him.
Remington repeated his question with insistence.
Lee stared straight ahead and said quietly, "We have to go see Billy. They're gone."
"Who's gone?"
Lee lifted his head. "Amanda and Laura."
*
Billy had given this speech to Scarecrow before, but this time Lee was listening even less than usual.
"Scarecrow, you cannot go after them. You're too close to it. Listen to me for once. I'm sending Francine."
Remington's fists clenched and unclenched. He hissed, "Stetson, do something."
Billy returned, "There's nothing he can do."
"Yes, there is, Billy. You know I will not leave it like this. I can't. Tupolev has gone too far."
Billy said, almost to himself, "Somehow, I don't think it would matter to you who kidnapped them." Then he said, "Don't make me give you a direct order. Turn your file over to Francine and go home. Both of you."
"Billy, we have to do this, and we have to do it now."
"Stetson, listen to me. This is now a direct order. Turn over the papers and leave it to Francine."
The muscles in Lee's face tensed, then relaxed. He waved for Remington to follow him and walked out of Billy's office.
"I don't care what you do, Lee, but I'm going after her. Them."
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to do exactly what I did when this happened before. We're going to get the women we love back."
Steele felt slightly better as they tore the pages from the printer in Q Bureau.
Lee read through them. "We've got names. We've got addresses. Tupolev's headquarters are in a warehouse on the Potomac."
He stopped abruptly and handed a page to the detective. "You're not going to like this."
Remington read the lines slowly. With an icy calm in his voice, he said, "If you want him alive, don't give me a gun."
Francine burst through the door, followed by four very large, angry-looking men whose poorly cut jackets revealed the telltale bulge of small arms.
"Neither of you are going to have guns. Billy gave you an order."
"Francine, they've got Amanda and Laura. Let us go."
"I can't. It's against Agency policy and Billy's direct order."
"To hell with policy and Billy!" Lee yelled.
"It's against common sense!" Francine yelled back. "You two are in a fine state to mount a rescue mission. Give me the files."
One of the gorillas stepped forward.
"Now, Lee."
Lee saw Remington discreetly put a piece of paper in his pocket and nod. Lee handed Francine the printout, then handed his gun to one of the men.
To her four muscle-bound escorts, she said, "You can go now, boys."
When they had lumbered out, she put a hand on each man's arm. "I'll get them back for you."
Lee's expression changed slightly. "No, you won't."
Her guard was down for a moment as she took in his statement. He coldly chopped her on the side of the neck. They dragged her into the vault, and then the two unarmed men stole out of the room.
"We've got to get down to the briefing room and find out where Dr. Wilcox hid her research. If we can't get our wives back on our own terms, we'll have to trade.
"We may have a problem getting there, though. The briefing room is near Billy's office. If he sees us, the whole thing is shot."
They took the elevator and stepped out from among the coats just down the hall from the main office.
Lee said out of the corner of his mouth, "You know where Billy's office is. The briefing room is on the opposite side of the bullpen. Somebody's going to miss Francine soon, so we better make this fast."
The shades were drawn on the full-length windows that made up one side of Billy's office. Lee and Remington walked across to the briefing room and entered it as if they belonged there. No one took notice.
Catherine Wilcox was sitting alone, filling out forms.
"Hi, fellas. What can I do for you? I'd rather talk to you than write down my grandmother's maiden name in triplicate, that's for sure, but I'll warn you. I'm just about talked out from all the questions."
Remington said, "We've just got one for you. We need a copy of your research. Can you tell us where one is?"
"Mr. Melrose has the one that the fictional Dr. Babcock gave him a while back. That's the only hard copy Frank didn't burn."
Remington glanced at Lee, and then his eyes went back to the doctor. "That was the only one? There are no others out there to be discovered by the wrong people?"
"Like I told Mr. Melrose, that's it."
"How much is there?" Lee asked. "Can you reproduce it for us?"
"There's too much," she sighed.
Her hand went up to her mouth. "Oh my gosh. I forgot about the disk. I'd better tell Mr. Melrose."
Lee almost cut her off. "We'll take care of it. Where is it?"
Catherine sensed something was amiss, but she was not sure exactly what it was. Her eyes traveled from Lee to Remington.
"Why do you want to know?"
Remington's eyes narrowed slightly.
Lee was losing patience.
"It's a matter of life or death."
"For who?" she demanded. "Mike's already dead. Frank was brought in. No one else knows about any of this."
"We'd rather not say."
Dr. Wilcox's eyes had not left Remington. She was watching the look on his face change subtly as her conversation with Lee went on.
"There's a secret compartment in a bookcase in my apartment. Third shelf up on the left."
Remington's voice was low and sincere. "Thank you."
Continued