...Continued Part I: molto lento

When the limo finally pulled into the circular drive fronting the posh hotel at which Claudia (against his counsel) had insisted on staying, Bert Myers exited the back of the car as quietly as possible to avoid waking his charge until he and the team had secured the area. Stepping away from the vehicle, his trained eyes scouring the perimeter, he tuned his left ear to his com unit.

"Wolfe. And now," he demanded into his mike.

"Miss me that much?" he heard Nick say, on his way over from the secondary transportation in Claudia's escort.

The tone of Wolfe's voice was enough to alert Myers to the fact that his associate clearly didn't realize he had done anything wrong. When Bert turned his head to look his friend in the eye, he knew Wolfe would have that old teasing expression on his face, his eyebrows lifted, his mouth pursed in humor. Nick Wolfe had been in such a steady, predictable mood with the troublesome Amanda Montrose out of town. It had originally startled Myers to have his old even-keeled friend back in his life. He had to remind himself that this was who Nick used to always be--not the at-times evasive, oft-angst-ridden, information-withholding person that he had tended toward becoming over the past six months.

"Nicky-boy," Bert began, diving right into the problem, but affecting a humorous tact, eyebrows raised, hands open in question. "Is there some reason you want to give me grief? Something you want to tell me about that I've done to hurt you? Some feminina whose eye I happened to catch that left you jealous? Huh?" He slipped an arm around Nick's shoulders. "Or maybe it's just that with Amanda gone, you feel the need to take up the slack in the 'deviling me' department?" He cocked his eyebrow. "'Cause really, trust me, I was enjoying that vacation."

Nick opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Closing his mouth, he smiled instead.

It was clear to Bert that he was not aware of La Jardine's ruffled feathers.

"Exactly what are we talking about here, Mr. Myers?"

Bert smiled back. "We're talking about the job you did tonight at public relations, Mr. Wolfe, and evaluating your performance with a very low score in light of the fact that I've got to be in Juneau in three days and I had put all of my pretty, fragile, little eggs named Claudia Jardine, superstar into a basket labeled; Nick Wolfe, trustworthy successor."

"Oh," began Nick, clearly having connected the lecture with his earlier performance back at the hall.

"So, tell me," Myers, still all smiles, continued. "Do I need to re-label my basket, or can I count on you to play for the team?"

"You don't really believe that someone's--"

"Ah-ah-ah," Myers threw his hands up in a gesture to ward off further comment. "Affirmative answers only."

Nick exhaled hard, and his hands went for his hips.

Myers began to wonder if he had mis-stepped in his rebuffing of Nick, but was distracted when his radio crackled to life.

"Bravo One, calling the all clear, moving on your mark."

"Roger that," Myers replied to the com unit, and finished up with Nick. "I'll be waiting for your answer."

Nick did not respond.

Myers tried on his best hang-dog expression, sloughing some of the blame off on Claudia's temperament. "Look, before I open this door I need you gone. She's had quite as much Nick Wolfe as she can take for the night, I think." Feeling his last comments might have been unnecessarily harsh, Bert ended on a more congenial note, putting his hand out to his friend. "I'll be by the bar in an hour. We can have a drink. You can tell me everything. We'll work it out."

Nick's expression relaxed somewhat, and he took the hand he was offered. "What, you haven't had enough of me yet?"

"Bring it on," responded Myers, smiling and moving to the car door.

Before he could get to the handle to open it, wake Claudia, and escort her into the hotel for the night, the rear door burst open, slamming heavily into his stomach and torso. He hadn't even caught his wind when he heard Claudia speak in a broad stage whisper from the back seat.

"He's here, Bert. He's here. He knows I'm staying here."

Trying to speak, but winded from the unexpected blow, Myers managed only a cough and wheeze as he held his midsection.

"We've got to go. RIGHT NOW."

"Claudia--" he was finally able to manage, crawling into the back seat and shutting the door behind him. A moment's glace showed him there would be no smoothing over this fear, so he took charge.

"Gordo," he told the other man sharing the space. "Go. See what it is--if he's here, I want to see him. I want pictures, I want video, stats, positive ID. I want a color-coded map of his friggin' genome. You got that?"

Gordon nodded and exited the car from the other side.

Myers spoke some quick orders into his com unit, aware that with Claudia clinging to him he wasn't going to be able to leave the car and search for the stalker himself without permanently alienating his client. "Where did you see him?" he asked her, noting a stabbing pain in his side whenever he drew breath.

Damn him if she hadn't cracked one of his ribs with the door!

She shook her head, refusing to answer, only repeating, "he's here. I swear it. He's coming for me." A flash of inspiration shot across her face. "Gimme a phone."

Perplexed, Myers grabbed one of the many units littering the car. "Who do you want to call?"

"I--just--hang on," she said, and as he noticed her calm returning, he directed the driver to go. While she dialed information in Seacouver and asked for the number of a dojo, Myers communicated to his men who had just finished re-scouting the area. They had found nothing. It was what he had expected. After all, his team didn't even have a physical description on the guy. They were running blind, uncertain of what to look for in a city full of fans and critics--all of whom wanted to get close to Claudia. It was an impossible, undoable job. No matter the weather, Juneau would be a more than welcome change.

"Hello, hello? DeSalvo's Gym?" he heard her saying into the phone. "Yes, I know our connection is bad, I'm not totally deaf, am I?" The edge that Myers had come to know as Claudia had crept back into her voice. He almost smiled for the sake of the poor S.O.B. trapped on the other end.

"Is Duncan there? I need to talk to Duncan." A pause. "What do you mean he's gone on holiday? Well, if I had a number where I knew I could reach him, don't you think I would have called that? No, I don't want to leave a message. Pissant!" And she keyed the phone off, lobbing it hatefully into the tempered glass behind the chauffeur's headrest. The glass held.

Retrieving the phone, Myers found he was more than ready to return Claudia to her twice-secured lodgings for the night.

...to be continued...

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DISCLAIMERS: The characters in this story are not my property, never have been, and I'm just borrowing them for a few pages. No money is being made, etc. Thanks. Feedback is cherished.