Date: Sat, 3 Jun 1995 19:14:02 +0100 Reply-To: Grail Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Grail Subject: "Steele Blades" Part 4 Steele Blades A Remington Steele/Highlander crossover by Grail (Mark Overton) Part 4 Warmth on her face woke Laura up. She blinked in the morning sunshine, streaming in through the windows of Steele's bedroom, and yawned languidly. For a moment she forgot her cares and worries, wrapped up in the warmth of the sheets, the world outside brightly-lit with the sky a clear blue. Reality returned and she remembered. "Rats," Laura said aloud. She rolled off the bed and picked up her clothes from where she had carelessly thrown them across the chair. Quickly she dressed and went into the front room, where Steele was sprawled half on and half off the couch. Laura's eyes widened as she saw the thin metal blade resting on the coffee table. Very quietly, she picked it up and examined it; the metal, though looking smooth at a distance, was pockmarked and scratched when she looked at it closely. Although by no means a swords expert, Laura guessed that the weapon was at least two centuries old. "Don't play with swords, Miss Holt," Steele said without opening his eyes. Laura nearly dropped the sword, shocked. "Don't do that!" "Sorry." Steele opened his eyes and sat up, taking the sword from her. "An eighteenth century duellist's sword. I found it in a shoebox on top of the wardrobe last night." "A shoebox?" "Sort of a shoebox," he amended. "Actually, it was buried beneath four pairs of shoes, a woollen scarf my great-aunt once knitted for me, a pocket-watch, six love letters, and a mouldy packet of wine gums." Laura's eyebrows rose. "Love letters?" Steele looked embarrassed. "Well, I'd better not say her name, she's a princess these days." "Oh. So why the sword?" "Because Lentz was using one, and Macleod had one as well." Rising, Steele took the sword from her and weighed it in his hand. "From what was said, it looks like this little beauty will be our only hope." "Our?" Laura queried. "I think I'll get one for myself, thanks. I don't fancy my chances much if I'm supposed to rely on you being around." "Oh?" Steele looked at her, slightly bemused. Laura saw the momentary hurt on his face. "What's that mean, then?" She backtracked hastily. "We're not always together, Mr Steele. We're not joined at the hip or anything." Steele wasn't persuaded. "That wasn't what you meant. You were worried about me disappearing on you, weren't you?" Laura hesitated. "No, of course not," she said, but her voice lacked conviction, even to her own ears. Steele shrugged dismissively. "Well, whatever," he said, clearly being colder than he felt. He turned away, picked up a soft downy cloth of some kind, and ran it up and down the blade, cleaning any dust which might have fallen on it whilst he was asleep. The blade glinted in the sunshine. "Still as sharp as it was when I picked it up in Russia." "Russia?" "Russia. Friend of mine, Arkady Petrovich Ivanko. Good man. We used to practice in the forest with swords sometimes, early morning or late evening." Steele's eyes had that curiously distant look he often had when reminiscing. "He used to call me Inostranyets." "Why? That's not your real name, by any chance?" Laura said hopefully. Steele chuckled. "Inostranyets is Russian for foreigner." She sighed. "It would be." The blade swished a little as Steele moved it through the air, the soft whistling sound somehow slightly menacing. "It's a duelling sword," he repeated, "used by noblemen in centuries gone by." "Only for duelling?" Laura queried. "Oh, there's no only about duelling," Steele informed her. "Sometimes duels could be fatal." "Really." Laura moved suddenly, grabbing the sword from him and holding it to his neck. "Ha! Surrender, or you will fall before me!" she declared in mock-heroic style. Steele flinched. "Laura - " Putting a hand on his chest, Laura shoved him so he fell back onto the sofa. The tip of the sword hovered inches from his throat. "I said yield," she insisted mockingly. The cold shiver struck them both instantly. A second later the thick blade of a katana hit the blade of the duelling sword with a clang, knocking it out of Laura's hands. Duncan looked at them unsmilingly. "Two rules. Never play with swords, and never let your guard down. This is a battle." "Yes, very good - " Steele started to say, getting up. Duncan seemed to blur and suddenly the katana was at Steele's throat. "One stroke of the sword and your head is mine!" he hissed in Steele's ear. "Remember how easy it is to take someone's head, Mr Steele. Never let it be yours...apart from anything else, death's very unpleasant." "And you'd know, presumably?" Laura said, retrieving the duelling sword as Duncan released Steele. "You said you were nearly four hundred." "Yes," Duncan nodded. "So you both have to listen when I tell you the Rules. In the Game, mistakes can be fatal." He paused to think about that. "No. In the Game, mistakes are fatal." Christopher Lentz hesitated. Then, "Enter!" Her eyes downcast, Sarah entered the practicing room, a large empty space with wooden floorboards. Lentz, dressed in tight clothing for freedom of movement, was sparring with a wooden figure. "My lord," she said, "Yevgeni wants to speak to you. He says it's urgent." "Urgent, is it?" Lentz growled. Reluctantly, he left his sword on a stand and crossed to Sarah. "Tell him I'll meet him in the main room." She curtsied. "Yes, my lord." Lentz watched her leave with a sense of satisfaction. It had been a stroke of luck, finding Sarah. She was the exact image of his last love, and the exact personality as well. Lentz believed passionately in reincarnation, and Sarah was the fifth reincarnation of his lover, the mortal Annette. For a moment, the image of sixteenth-century Paris filled his mind; then he blinked the sights and sounds away. His home time was gone; now he had to look to the future. Striding into the main room, removing his practice gloves, Lentz looked at the malnourished Russian. "Well, Yevgeni? I told you I was not to be disturbed unless it was urgent." "Yes, my lord, I know," Yevgeni apologised hastily, "but this is urgent. We've tracked down someone who may help you with Steele and Miss Holt." "Oh?" Yevgeni consulted a notepad he had in one hand. "Yes, my lord. She works as secretary at the detective agency which they run." Lentz nodded slowly. "Sounds reasonable. Her name?" "Mildred Krebs." Laura opened the door. "See? I told you." "You can't take chances, Miss Holt," Steele murmured from behind her, the duelling sword gripped firmly in one hand. He followed her out into the corridor, locking his room behind him. "Don't you think you could put the sword away for just a minute?" Laura asked, looking down the corridor. "People are going to talk, you know." "Well..." Steele said doubtfully. "Look, give it here," Laura said impatiently, taking it from him and stashing it inside her long coat, which reached to her ankles. The tip of the blade was just about concealed inside the coat. "There, happier?" "It'll be difficult to extract," Steele observed. "I'll manage," Laura sighed. "Come on, let's go. Immortal or not, we have to earn a living down at the agency. It won't be for long, Duncan said he'd turn up at the agency later." She marched off down the corridor, Steele following doubtfully, until they reached the lift. Once inside, Steele relaxed a little and he smiled down at her. "You know, there's one advantage about this." "Oh?" Laura asked suspiciously. "I get to be in your company for a lot longer than I thought, Miss Holt." To his surprise, Laura didn't smile. Instead, she shivered a little and, as the lift doors opened, marched straight out without looking at him. Steele, frowning, followed her out and across the grey concrete floor of the carpark. "Hey, you two!" They turned round sharply as a youth in jeans and leather jacket sauntered across to them, grinning insolently. "Hey," he said again, "how's it going?" "Just fine, thanks," Steele said, turning to go. "Hey, don't do that, man," the youth said instantly. A gun seemed to leap into his hand out of nowhere. Laura tapped Steele on the shoulder and he turned round slowly. The youth grinned at them. "Now that's better. Why don't we just - " He was looking at Steele as he spoke, and Laura took her chance. Her hand flashed inside the coat and drew the duelling sword. It made a high-pitched whistling sound as it flashed through the air, and the young man yelled out as it scraped the skin on his hand, drawing blood. The gun clattered noisily to the ground. "What the - " "Now, now, let's not talk to ladies like that," Steele interrupted, scooping up the gun. "Just run along." "Wait a minute," Laura said, "maybe we should - " "Let's not go to all the trouble," Steele interrupted her in turn. "Just go on," he ordered the youth. Taking his chance, he ran off. "Why did you do that?" Laura demanded. "Because neither you nor I want questions about swords being asked, especially by the police," Steele replied quietly in her ear, "do we, Miss Holt?" Laura looked down at the duelling sword. "No," she agreed. "Let's go on to the agency," Steele said. Mildred arrived at the office early. As she was fond of telling her errant offspring, what could be done today should never be put off until tomorrow. As a result, as she rode the elevator up the skyscraper to the agency office, Mildred was already beginning to plan her day in some detail, right down to the exact times of her lunch break. Always assuming that nothing untoward happened, of course. She ran over the events of yesterday in one part of her mind whilst working out the final solution to Steele's tax returns. The boss and Laura had explained to her that it was all a covert undercover operation to make their targets think they were dead, and Mildred had been given instructions to behave as if everything was normal and she didn't know. The lift doors opened and Mildred stepped out onto the floor, deep in thought, walking with her eyes looking at the carpet as she was pondering over these various subjects. She didn't see the man until she walked into him. "Sorry," she apologised absently, and started to walk past him. The man took her arm and Mildred looked up, frowning. "Mildred Krebs?" the man inquired. He was middle-sized, quite burly, and developing a beer gut. His eyes were grey, and they stared at her with a peculiar curiosity she found disquieting. "That's me," she answered. "Office hours don't start until nine- thirty - " "I don't want the office," the man said. He looked over Mildred's shoulder. "This is her, Yevgeni." "Who?" Mildred started to turn when something pricked the side of her neck. Drowsiness overwhelmed her and her knees buckled. Yevgeni caught the older woman as she started to fall to the carpet. He handed her to his associate. "Take her down the emergency stairs," he instructed, "and put her in the van. I'll set up the agency office for when Steele and Miss Holt arrive." The associate nodded, lifted Mildred with some difficulty, and started off down the back stairs. When he was out of sight, Yevgeni turned back to the agency doors, REMINGTON STEELE INVESTIGATIONS emblazoned across the clear glass in smooth white letters. He picked the lock almost without pausing, switched off the burglar alarm, and went inside. Laura and Steele arrived at the skyscraper ten minutes later, travelling together in Steele's car rather than separately. Laura thought how ironic it was that they were staying closer together right now than they had been before their first deaths. Steele swung the car into a parking space and switched off the engine. He looked sideways at Laura. "Shall we go upstairs?" "I suppose," Laura said absently, picking up the duelling sword and exiting the vehicle. She froze in surprise. "Mr Steele!" Steele leapt out of the car just in time to see Mildred being bundled into the back of a bulky white transit van. Laura looked at him, and then started across the carpark without a word. Steele followed just as the van's engine coughed and roared into life. Laura was within six inches of the rear doors as the vehicle started to move, pulling out of its space and speeding away towards the exit. "Mildred!" Laura called futilely as the van ascended the ramp and disappeared into the traffic. "It's no good," Steele said. "She's gone." From the side of the carpark, Yevgeni watched and smiled. =========================================================================