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Friday, 10:00 AM.

"Sixteen years is a long time, mister. The world has changed a lot while you've been with us," the younger man in the gray suit said. He was the one behind the desk, he was in the position to be philosophical. But if there was anything the man facing him didn't want right then, it was a warden-turned-philosopher.

"I think I'll manage to adjust," the other man replied. A smile crept across his lips as he added, "...somehow." The warden thought he saw something sinister in his eyes, but he figured that it couldn't be. The man before him had been the most exemplary prisoner in the years since his conviction. It must be the anxiety about re-entering society.

"What are your immediate plans?" he asked, at a loss for anything better to say. "I imagine you've done a lot of thinking about just what you'd be doing on this day."

"Oh, I'd just planned to try and catch up with what's been going on," the soon-to-be-released man answered. Especially with one Remington Steele and family, he added mentally.

After the formalities were over he was a free man again. It had been ten long years since he'd been able to buy a newspaper, watch TV, or sit in the park. He decided that it was these little things that he'd missed most. Long ago he'd vowed revenge upon the man who was responsible for sending him to jail... both this last time, and the time before, when his beloved Lilly... No, it was still too painful for him to remember that part of his life. Soon it will all be accounted for, he thought and he almost let himself smile.

Once he was back in Los Angeles, he set about his self-appointed tasks. First, there was the newspaper section of the library. He had to catch up on what had been happening in the lives of those most important to him... Remington Steele and his assistant, wife, he corrected himself, Laura Holt. Their two children would be nearly grown by now. The daughter, Katherine, had just turned 17, and they'd had a son, Brian, who was now 14. He smiled to himself as he jotted down this useful information.

After he'd finished with the newspapers, he left the Bethune Branch Library on South Vermont and caught a bus for Hollywood. The new Los Angeles Subway system had been in place for five years now, but he felt more at home with the good old RTD. He got off the bus at the once-famous intersection of Hollywood and Vine. Now, instead of the drugstore that had been Lana Turner's big break, there was a group of small shops owned and run by people who spoke little English. The man went into one of these, a store specializing in out-of-the-ordinary electronics.

Saturday, 12:45 AM.

The figure, clad entirely in black, approached the gate to the Steele property. Most of the homes in the neighborhood had locked entrances and security systems... the kind of people who lived in this neighborhood cherished their privacy and could afford to do so. The Steeles were no different. They had purchased this house soon after they were married, and it was the only home either of their children had ever known.

The two-story house and grounds were surrounded by a high wall with a state of the art security system at the top. It was true that the occasional squirrel set the alarm off, but Remington Steele had insisted upon it himself. The single entrance to the grounds was by means of an electronic gate. Not unlike a garage-door opener, it could be opened either from the house, or from the gate itself, by entering the correct code into the panel built into the wall on the driver's side. In addition, Fred Parks, the longtime chauffeur and family friend, kept a remote-control override with him in the limousine. Since Fred and his wife Maggie lived with their children in a smaller, guest house on the property, there was little chance of anyone breaking in.

The figure stepped up to the gate and opened the small bag he'd been carrying. A moment later, he produced a black-colored box. On its top was a tiny red button, and on the face, two lights... a red and a green. The figure gave a quick look up and down the deserted street, and when he was satisfied that no one was coming, he placed the box against the electronic gate lock and pressed the button. The red light came on and a faint hum could be heard. After a moment, the red light went off and the green came on. At that moment there was a soft but distinct click from the gate itself.

Three quick steps brought him to the entrance. A tentative push was rewarded with another soft click as the gate swung open. He ducked inside... he didn't want any stray car to come along and ruin his plans. Not after sixteen years. He closed the gate completely, but not before he rigged the latch with adhesive tape so that it would open from the inside. He had thought out every minute detail of his plan and knew that if he left the gate open, he was taking a chance that someone inside the house would see the red indicator light on the security panel in the kitchen. Steele didn't strike him as the type to go for a late-night snack, but you could never be sure. He laughed silently at the mental picture: the great Remington Steele clad in his bathrobe, plundering the refrigerator.

Inside, there was no trace of any alarms until he reached the house. He took care to avoid the walls of the mansion itself, in case there was another system he hadn't originally considered. Steele is clever, I'll give him that much, went through his mind as he rounded the corner. Directly ahead of him was the cottage Fred and Maggie shared. It was near the rear of the house, not far from the back entrance. There was a hallway that led to the back door. He'd guessed that the alarm system's master control would be there, concealed near there, and he was right.

As he reached into his black bag, he marveled at how advanced electronics had become in his absence. Instead of physical wires, as he had been used to, everything operated on magnetic fields. He didn't claim to understand the new technology now any more than he did when the man with the heavy accent sold it to him. He just hoped it would work. It was amazing, he thought, how it all came down to that... he hoped it would work. There was little else he could do. Here's hoping Steele has kept up with the times, he thought as he pulled out another, more sophisticated-looking device. He crossed his fingers as he placed it on the panel of lights labeled "Outside Security - Main Panel." The next few moments would either make or break his entire scheme. The beads of perspiration on his forehead attested to that. In his mind he could see lights and hear sirens and...

But the flashing strobes and wailing alarms never came. He was somehow disappointed when the panel went dark. No bells, no whistles, nothing. He moved to the door and tried it. One good thing about this kind of security, he thought, is that once it's off, it's all off. It didn't take him long to pick the lock and get into the house.

He breathed a heavy sigh. The hardest part of his plan had succeeded. The rest would fall into place easily. His footsteps were light as he walked down the hall. Immediately on his right was a door. He tried it, but found it locked. Continuing on, the beam from his flashlight was enough that he noticed that the wall on his left was filled with pictures... of Steele, of Laura, the kids, and various combinations thereof. One in particular caught his eye. It was of a young girl, no more than sixteen. She looked a great deal like a young Laura Holt, dark hair and fair skin, but there was something in her eyes... a twinkle she could have only gotten from her father. He quietly removed the picture and put it in his bag. From his pocket he produced an ancient Spanish coin and placed it on the table directly below the picture's place.

After he passed the kitchen, he entered the living room. It was well-equipped, as he was sure it would be. There was a set of shelves on the far wall that would suit his purposes just fine. As he crossed the room, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out something the size of a dime. After placing it on the top shelf near the corner, where it would be inconspicuous, he left the room.

The front door was to his right, a stairway to his left. He knew that they would be asleep up there. Originally he had thought venturing into their bedroom far too risky. There was a better-than-even chance he'd be caught, but the adrenalin pumping through his system made him forget the caution and proceed quietly to the stairs. Each new step brought with it the threat of being discovered. One creak and it would all be over. His twenty years of planning would be for nothing. He held his breath and stepped. Nothing. Good, he thought. Steele's a handyman, too. Soon he was at the top of the stairs, looking down a long hallway with rooms on both the right and left.

The first room had a nameplate with an old airplane on it. According to the plane, the resident here was "Brian." He proceeded to the next one. "Katherine," it said. He had found the one he was looking for. Now it was just a matter of time. If he didn't get careless, he'd be home free... he'd have what he wanted and leave. No one would be the wiser. Turning the knob ever so slowly, he opened the door carefully. Inside, he saw exactly what he wanted immediately. He took three steps inside the room, grabbed the blue and gold stuffed bear and turned around. He heard something. For the second time in twenty years he held his breath. It was the girl. He remained motionless for what seemed like an eternity, until he was sure she wasn't awake. Then he quickly slipped out of the room. Never was he so glad Steele was a meticulous man as when the hinge refused to squeak.

Twelve more steps saw him to the bottom of the stairs. A fast turn and all that was left was the hallway. Halfway down it, he stopped for a moment and made sure the coin was face up. Tails just wouldn't be the same, he thought. Then he headed for the back.

Once outside, he breathed a little more easily. His perspiration and rapid breathing led him to the conclusion that he wasn't a young man anymore. True, he wasn't, but that didn't matter. It won't matter in a week, anyway. He closed the door and took his device off the security panel. A moment later the panel's lights came back on.

He retraced his route from the gate to the house carefully but quickly. It wasn't long before he was at the outside exit. He closed it behind him just as a car sped past. He was sure it was all over, but the car kept going. A minute later, when his heart slowed to a reasonable rate, he went to the security board in the wall and removed that black box. Behind him he heard the gate click as it locked itself. He couldn't help laughing to himself as he walked up the street to where he had parked the rental van.

Tuesday, 3:15 PM.

"I'm home, Mom!" Katie closed the front door behind her. She wasn't sure she'd get an answer, but it didn't hurt to try. Her parents had both been quite busy lately. Probably at another stakeout in the supermarket, she mused. The picture of her mom and dad, the great Remington and Laura Steele, nonchalantly picking canned soups off the shelf while waiting for a shoplifter, struck her as funny. She dropped her backpack in its traditional place in the entryway and headed for the kitchen. So much for the extra time, she thought. Her Student Senate meeting had been cancelled, and she had hoped to use the time to talk to her mom about the upcoming trip.

Katie, almost out of reflex, stopped at the refrigerator. As long as she could remember, her father had been against junk food, but Kate had never been convinced that an occasional chicken nugget would bring about global armageddon. It was her traditional after-school snack: A few frozen nuggets, popped in the microwave, and a minute later she'd be content. She was looking forward to finishing off the box today then she saw the note on the refrigerator door. She recognized the analytical handwriting instantly as that of her mother. Great, she thought, they'll be late again! I'm beginning to wonder if they really are my mother and father or did someone hire them to look after me occasionally? Both her parents had been deeply involved with the Henderson case lately, and it bothered Kate a great deal. She was a Senior in high school now, and would be making some pretty important decisions soon. And her folks weren't around to help her.

"Private Investigators!" she exclaimed as she shut the microwave door, sealing the fate of six innocent chicken nuggets. "Who asked you to be L.A.'s most famous detectives, anyway?" A moment later she added, "I just want you to be my parents." When I'm a mother, she thought, I'm going to spend a lot of time with my kids. I'm not going to be a pri... But her thoughts were interrupted by the microwave's buzzer. She turned her attention to the snack at hand.

After she'd eaten the chicken nuggets and watched the last half of a sitcom on TV, Kate was ready to go upstairs and start her homework. Her brother Brian wouldn't be home for another hour because of his swimming practice. This would be her best chance to get some work done before the house got noisy. Backpack in hand, she went up to her room.

Kate's mind wasn't on homework. All she could think about was the trip to Stanford she and her mother had planned. It was her Senior year in High School, and she had to choose a college soon. The trip up north was for an interview and to get a look at the school. Laura (back when she was still Laura Holt) had attended Stanford, so there was a little influence in that direction. Kate was looking forward to the trip as much for the fact that she was going by herself as for the academic issues.

Her parents had always been quite protective of both their children. Her mother had been kidnapped while pregnant with Brian, and then, only a few years ago, Brian himself had only escaped a similar fate due to a mix up between him and their cousin, Danny. Both experiences had left her mother and father more than a little leery about their offsprings' safety. This trip was her big chance to show them that she could do things for herself. The only thing that stood in her way was her father. It seemed that between his busy schedule and her searching for the right words, he was completely unaware of the trip that was scheduled for the day after tomorrow.

"I wish Mom would come home. Telling Dad about this trip isn't going to be easy." Kate set her pencil down. It was times like this, when she didn't quite know how to handle a situation, that she confided in her favorite stuffed animal -- a UCLA Bruin. The Bruin was blue and gold, a gift from Tom. Tom Michaels was a very dear friend, the son of one of her parents' old associates, Murphy Michaels, and his wife Sherry. Tom was only a year older than Kate, a freshman in Criminal Law at UCLA, but he had known that he'd go there for a long time. He had bought the bear for her when they had visited the school the year before. Kate treasured the bear because it reminded her of Tom. The bear meant a lot to her, and it was... gone!

In the bear's traditional resting place on her dresser, there was nothing. She hadn't noticed it when she came in because her mind was on the trip, but the bear was definitely gone. "Brian!" she screamed. "I'll bet you took it! You just wait. I'll get you, Little Brother. Just you wait..." Kate set immediately about a plan of revenge. She went next door to her brother's room and took his most treasured possession, his first issue of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a widely sought-after comic book. It was a rare find indeed, for the series only ran for six issues back in 1985. He had come across it in an old case file of their parents' on a visit to the office when he was five. He had latched onto it and wouldn't part with it. We'll see how you like THAT! Kate thought as she wrote a "ransom" note and left it on his desk.

"Calculus," Kate snorted, back in her own room. "I've got to finish this calculus before he comes home." The assignment didn't take her long, because she had inherited her mother's gift for mathematics. Before she knew it, she was on the last problem and could hear the door to the garage close downstairs. Mom's home! Kate left the problem for later, in favor of a conference with her mother.

Downstairs, Kate found her in the kitchen. The two grocery bags on the counter brought back the image of her parents staking out the supermarket and Kate laughed to herself.

"I thought you were going to be late. Again." Kate groused, none too happily.

"I did too. Your father's still at the agency. He had some last-minute things to wrap up." Even after twenty-three years in the detective business, Laura Holt Steele retained most of her youthful appearance. The few strands of grey that had appeared lately didn't worry her; they looked good on her. She was in her mid-forties now, and showed no signs of slacking off. When Kate saw her mother putting the groceries away, she was reminded of what her father often said: "Will the woman ever slow down?" Apparently not, Kate thought.

"Mom..." Kate began, then paused.

"What is it, Katie?" Laura asked. She always knew when her daughter had something on her mind. Kate and her father were very close, but in a somehow formal way. Whenever she just wanted to talk, Kate always went to her mother. For some reason it was easier to talk to Mom. Their relationship had been an interesting one. It had been Laura who sneaked the Chicken Nuggets into the "no junk-food house" when Katie was little, even though it was always her father who was proudly showing her to everyone. Kate had come to the conclusion long ago that her father was more interested in being proud of her than becoming close to her. And her mom had just always been there. And here she is again, Kate thought. Late, but here.

"I want to talk to you," she started again. "Not just about the trip, but about us. You, Dad and me." She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "We're supposed to be a family!"

"What do you mean, Katie? Is something wrong?"

"Obviously! If you can't see that there's a problem here, you must be part of it," Kate stated, almost bitterly. "You and Dad... you're never around anymore. This is an important time in my life, and I'd really like you to share it." Kate crossed to the table and pulled up a chair. "I wish you were normal parents."

"Normal parents?" Laura joined her daughter at the table.

"The non-detective kind," Kate told her flatly. Laura was stunned for a moment. Then Kate continued, "Lately, you've hardly been home at all. And when you finally do get here, you're too tired to even talk to Brian and me."

"I know it seems like that, hon, but this Henderson case..."

"It's not just the Henderson case! It's the Kirkpatrick case and the Fulton case and the Smith case and the Jones case and..."

"Smith and Jones?" Laura was puzzled. "I don't remember any Smith and Jones cases."

"I lost track of all of them somewhere, okay? The point is, it's always been like this. You and Dad are never here for me!"

"Now, Katie. You know your father and I both work very hard," Laura began, but her mind was drifting back twenty years, to the time when Steele first entered Laura's life. She worked hard even then, but he was of a more... frivolous nature. Now he worked as much at the business as she. In the last twenty years, he had truly become Remington Steele. A part of Laura was sad when she realized the change that had come over her husband. She had seen a bit of herself in that early Steele, the one who spent the afternoons at the movies for no good reason. She had been like that once. Terminal flights of frivolity, she thought.

"I know. You work too hard," Kate stated.

"What? Oh." Laura was startled. Her daughter's remark took her by surprise. She thought of it as something more appropriate to the old Remington Steele than to their daughter. "I didn't know you felt like this."

"Well, I do," came the flat reply.

"I wish there were something I could do to make you feel better, but there isn't. As soon as the Henderson case is wrapped up..." Laura promised, reaching her hand toward her daughter's.

"And when will that be?"

"It shouldn't take more than the rest of the week, and then we can talk. As a family."

"That would be fine, except for the fact that I won't be here this weekend."

Laura was taken by surprise. She had forgotten the upcoming trip completely. "Oh. That's right. And we still haven't told your father."

"I know. How are we going to handle that?"

"I wish I knew. We'll think of something."

Wednesday, 12:10 P.M.

"Kate, what are you doing for lunch?" came Cindy's voice. Cindy Stout, a pretty blonde of seventeen, had been Kate's best friend since the two had started high school. Fate, or alphabetical order, had thrown them together in Mr. Simpson's Ancient History class, and they had been best friends ever since. There was very little either could hide from the other.

"I don't know, Cin. I thought I might go off-campus," Kate answered as she shut her locker.

"Oh? And just where off campus?" Cindy's pleasant smile showed through. Both girls knew the exact location Kate had in mind: a certain fast-food joint several blocks away that specialized in bite-sized pieces of chicken.

"Oh, I don't know." Kate mimicked Cindy's sarcasm. "I thought about all those fancy, hundred-dollar-a-plate places, but I'm tired of them. What do you say we hit Ronnie's place?"

"It's a deal."

Cindy finished packing her backpack for her afternoon classes, and the two headed for McDonald's. After they had ordered, Kate selected a quiet booth far away from the rest of the noontime crowd. She was busy rehashing the conversation she and her mother had had the day before when Cindy sat down.

"What's the matter, Kate?" Cindy asked.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you putting pepper on your french fries?"

"Huh?" Kate looked startled, as if awakened from a dream. She looked down at her food. Cindy was right; she had been doing exactly that. She put the pepper down and reached for the salt, but Cindy grabbed her arm before it reached its destination.

"Really, Kate. What's wrong?" Cindy's right eyebrow wrinkled. Kate had learned long ago that this meant she was genuinely concerned.

"It's my parents, Cin. They're always so busy." Kate popped another Nugget into her mouth.

"I can imagine. With parents as famous as yours, I'll bet it's tough."

"You're darn right, it is. Mom and I have been planning a little trip to Stanford so I could get a look at the school. The only problem is that Dad isn't going to want me to go alone."

"So what's the problem? I've seen you and your mom convince him that white is black when you work together," Cindy said. She had often been a guest in the Steele house, and it was true that when Laura and her daughter both worked on the great Remington Steele, they could persuade him of almost anything. It was a skill that had been born out of necessity long ago.

"I know. That's just it! Mom isn't helping. She's never even home anymore! Sometimes I wish they weren't the most famous detective team in Southern California but normal parents who could spend a little time with Brian and me."

Wednesday, 5:00 PM.

Brian Steele leaned his body into the turn, his red and yellow skateboard beneath him. Brian had been riding as long as he could remember, but he'd never had the desire to learn the fancy maneuvers his friends did. Even his sister, who had gotten a skateboard for Christmas one year, could do some tricks Brian couldn't. He had, however, managed to learn how to jump off curbs and go back up the other side.

It was Brian's flight plan to round the corner and take the curb in a single, graceful maneuver. It was nothing special. He'd done it twice a day for the past two years, but it was still the high point of the trip home. It reminded him of a character in a movie his dad had shown him once... about a guy who drove a fancy car and went back in time. Brian often pretended that he was starring in that movie, and that it wasn't just a sidewalk he was tackling, but a real jump, and he was being chased by the movie's bully. When he straightened out from the turn, he got ready to go off the curb and cross the street. His mind had been so engrossed in the fantasy that he didn't see the van until it was almost too late.

Brian missed the white vehicle, but only by the narrowest of margins. He almost lost his balance in the process, too. He stepped off the board to slow it down, and to regain his composure. A quick glance around revealed that no one had seen him, and he continued on his way, never giving the van another thought.

When he reached the gate, Brian stopped the skateboard and got off. He stepped down hard on the back to flip it up and he caught it in his hand. Michael J. Fox, Back to the Future, Universal Pictures, 1985, he thought. Brian had inherited his father's love of movies, and lately he had begun quoting them as his father did. He entered the access code without even thinking. Closing the gate behind him, he headed for the house.

Brian opened the front door and dropped his backpack in the "landing zone" just inside it. Lately, his family (actually he and his sister) had been eating early, so he went to the kitchen to see what was going on. Only Maggie, their housekeeper was there. Then he heard the familiar slight brogue that was his father's. He waved to Maggie and went upstairs to investigate.

Inside Kate's room he found the whole family. Mom and Dad were both home, though they looked very tired. Kate was on the bed next to her half-packed suitcase. Even Watson, the cat, had decided to join in.

"What's going on?" Brian asked as he entered the room. Three sets of dirty looks greeted him.

Remington was the first to speak. "Hello, son," he said. Steele, like his wife, had aged gracefully. Though no longer thirty, he had managed to retain his slender build through nearly twenty years of home cooking. He had started to go grey several years earlier, but it made him look more dashing than ever.

"Hi, Dad. Mom."

"Brian, " Steele began. "Do you know anything about a trip to Stanford your sister was planning to take soon?" He gave a less-than-pleasant look in his wife's direction.

"Sure, why?"

"Well, then. It seems as though I'm the only one in the house who didn't. Don't you think it appropriate that something of this nature be brought to my attention?" He was talking to Laura, but looking at Brian. Brian didn't know whether to answer or not.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. But what's the big deal? She's only spending the weekend up there. She's not defecting." Brian didn't know what else to say.

Laura spoke up. "Brian, why don't you set the table for dinner?"

Brian wasn't usually that good at subtle hints, but he picked up on this one. "Sure," he said, and went back downstairs.

"For once I agree with the twerp," Kate commented. "It's no big deal. I don't understand what you're so upset about, anyway."

"Katie, you're still my little girl. I'm not letting you out there by yourself."

"Then what do you propose to do next year?" Laura put forth, taking command of the situation. "She'll be going to college whether you like it or not."

"There are fine schools here in Southern California. She could go to USC and live at home."

"Dad! You know how I feel about USC! Does the phrase 'Pay the fee, buy a degree' mean anything to you?"

Steele was taken aback. He had always had a soft spot for the University of Southern California. He had once even taught classes there. Nothing would make him more proud than if his only daughter decided to attend.

"Really, Rem! It is her decision," Laura entered the discussion with renewed enthusiasm.

"For the past fifteen years," Remington continued, as if he were ignoring his wife, "they've had one of the finest schools of criminology in the country!"

"Just because you and Mom helped start it!"

"She's right, Mr. Steele," Laura began. She almost never called her husband that, especially in front of the children. A left over of those first rocky years, whenever she called him Mr. Steele, it was to remind him who had been the boss originally. "I think the decision is in Kate's hands. It's our job to be supportive and offer advice, not to give orders. "

She was right, and they all knew it. Steele, however, would be damned if he'd ever admit it to her. He was going to resist to the bitter end.

But Laura wasn't quite through with her arguments yet. "Besides," she began again. "It's only an interview. She's not enrolling this weekend." Laura knew Steele had his heart set on Kate staying in Los Angeles, but she was equally determined that the girl have at least the independence of making the choice for herself. Besides, there was a certain amount of pride involved if Kate were to attend Stanford.

"All right. Maybe USC isn't the place for you," Steele conceded, backing down slightly. He finally realized that both of the women in his life were determined on the matter. He knew he couldn't win, but he vowed he'd go out fighting. "There's always UCLA." It pained him to even suggest the sworn enemies of USC, but long ago he had decided that a Bruin for a daughter wasn't so bad if he could keep his eye on her.

When her father mentioned UCLA, Kate's eyes involuntarily drifted back to where her Bruin Bear should be. She'd confronted Brian last night. When a thorough search of his room hadn't turned anything up, she figured she must've misplaced the Bear herself.

"Dad, only seventy-five thousand other people go to UCLA." And one of them is Tom Michaels, she added mentally. "Do you really think a person could like it there?"

Steele resisted the urge to say "No." The best he could come up with was, "I know several people who went there and have done rather well for themselves, young lady. It's a very fine school." I never thought I'd hear myself say that.

"You just don't want me to leave home. I don't see what it matters. You're never here anyway," Kate said, unsure of how her father would react.

Rather than do something he'd regret later, Steele decided that it would be better if he had some time to cool down. "We'll talk about this later," he said and left the room.

"Don't worry, Kate," Laura said. She, too, was surprised at her husband. They both had been under a lot of stress, lately, it was true, but avoiding the problem wasn't going to help anything. "I'll talk to him after dinner. You finish packing." There was a brief moment when their eyes met, and the determination Kate saw told her that she was going to visit Stanford after all.

Wednesday, 7:30 P.M.

After a conspicuously quiet dinner, Remington Steele and his wife excused themselves and went into the living room. Kate and Brian both knew that to disturb them now would be punishable by death at the very least, so they were more eager than usual to help Maggie with the dishes.

"I don't believe you sometimes, Remington Steele. What has happened to you in the last twenty years? Once, you cared enough to sacrifice yourself to Major Descoine to save me. What happened to that man? Where is he? Now you won't let your own daughter explore her opportunities." As she spoke, Laura circled around to the corner of the room. She was still facing her husband in the center of the room. Had she turned around, she would have noticed the micro-transmitter that had been placed on the top shelf less than a week earlier.

"Laura, I can't help worrying about her. Ever since you were kidnaped before Brian was born, I've realized just how vulnerable our children are."

"They are?" Laura asked. "Or we are through them?" Her question struck a nerve deep inside both of them. The room was silent for a moment.

"If you make her promise to call, she can go to Stanford for the weekend," Steele agreed reluctantly.

"We'll do better than that. She can go to an old friend of mine if she needs anything. How's that?"

"It sounds better all the time, Laura." He hugged her.

"It certainly does, Mr. Steele," the man inside the white van snickered to himself as a wicked grin spread across his lips. "It certainly does."

Thursday, 10:00 AM.

"Bye, Mom." Kate planted a kiss on her mother's cheek. "I guess I'll see you guys on Sunday." She stepped over to her father. His kiss was somehow cold and impersonal, which told Kate that he still didn't approve of her trip.

"You still don't want me to go, do you?"

"I seem to have been out-voted in any case," Steele said, his eyes wandering from Kate's to those of her mother. "But I still would rather you didn't."

"But, Dad..." Kate began the old argument again. "It's not as though I'm leaving right now. This is just an interview. I'll be evaluating them as closely as they'll be evaluating me."

His daughter's remark inspired a small amount of confidence in Remington Steele. Then there's still hope, he thought, that she'll hate it. He smiled as he bent forward to kiss her.

"I promise I'll write every day." The tentative grin left her face as she saw that her Dad wasn't in a joking mood.

Kate's flight was called to begin boarding, and she picked up her overnight bag and backpack. Being a child of private investigators had taught her to pack lightly. She approached the gate and gave her boarding pass to the flight attendant. Before she walked down the enclosed jetway, Kate turned around and looked at her parents one last time.

Thursday, 10:30 AM.

Inside the twin towers of Century City, Laura Steele and her husband shared a silent elevator ride to the eighth floor. The eighth floor was home to Remington Steele Investigations, and had been since the agency outgrew their eleventh-floor suite nearly eighteen years earlier. The newer surroundings were not only larger, they were better-equipped. Each of the operatives (including both Mr. and Mrs. Steele) had his own computer terminal. The system behind the terminals was located there, too. It was state-of-the art and contained records even the LAPD didn't have.

"Good morning, Mr. Steele. You too, Mrs. S," the cheerful voice greeted them when they entered the office.

Steele sulked past the receptionist with only an unintelligible mumble, but Laura was in a somewhat better mood. "Morning, Eddie," she murmured. Eddie Simms was the agency's main receptionist and part-time operative, much like his predecessor, Mildred Krebbs. Unlike Krebbs, though, Eddie was "recruited" by Mr. Steele fresh out of college. He was still working on his private investigator's license, and he mildly resented his clerical duties. He performed them admirably, even though he didn't share the rapport with computers his predecessor had.

"It's Thursday, Eddie," Laura continued. "Do you have the..."

"Weekly brief? I'm working on it right now. I have the draft copy if you want that." It had long ago become necessary to keep tabs on those brought to justice by the Steele Agency, and this regular report was the answer. It was among the last things Mildred Krebbs had done for the agency before retiring. After a moment of searching, Eddie was able to find the printout, and he handed it to Laura, who tucked it under her arm and headed after her husband into his office.

"Not much this week, Mrs. Steele," Eddie continued, though he was talking to air. "Only one parolee."

By the time Laura had closed the door of her husband's office behind her, Remington Steele had his feet up on his desk and was reclining in his chair. This position had come to mean to Laura that he was actually concentrating on a case. But since they weren't working on any cases that would need him at the moment, she knew exactly what he was thinking about... their daughter.

"Don't be so discouraged," Laura started, momentarily taking her eyes off the weekly brief. "You never really had much of a chance anyway." She smiled at him.

"Then you admit that it was the old tag-team action, eh?" A half-smile softened Steele's grim features. That, combined with the slight twinkle in his eyes, was Laura's first indication that he had come to grips with the fact that their daughter was growing up, whether he liked it or not.

"All's fair in love and..." Laura began, and pretended to be reading the computer printout.

"War?" he finished. He was out of his chair now, and walking toward his office window, the one that overlooked the shopping center on the far side of Santa Monica Boulevard. I remember, Steele thought, when that was a country club complete with golf course. We even had a run-in with Major Descoine there. Steele's mind drifted back to February of 1984. He and Laura were chasing Descoine through the wooded areas that were now the largest shopping complex in California. Back in the present, his mind involuntarily came up with a movie reference: It's been a long time, Miss Ilsa. A lotta water under the bridge. -- Doolie Wilson to Ingrid Bergman, Casablanca, Warner Brothers, 1943.

"I was thinking more along the lines of growing up." Laura's reply startled him. She rounded the corner of the desk and stood at her husband's side.

"Our little girl..." Steele mumbled, unaware he was thinking aloud.

"Is turning into a young woman," Laura added slowly. Steele thought he could detect a note of sadness in her voice. He was about to call her bluff and accuse her of being just as sentimental as he, when the intercom behind them buzzed. Jarred back into reality, Laura was the first to answer the machine.

"Yes, Eddie?" her pleasing voice came over the line into the reception area. Eddie was still looking at his computer screen, one hand on the intercom.

"I have another name to add to the list of recent parolees on the weekly brief, Mrs. Steele. You left before I'd finished the search. I have the hard copy now."

"That's all right, Edward, my boy. You can tell us now."

"Okay, Mr. Steele," Eddie's voice came over the intercom. "Released, last Friday, from Soledad Prison, one Major Percy Descoine."

Remington Steele and his wife exchanged a moment of silence. Eddie's voice once more forced them back into reality.

"Mr. Steele? Are you there?"

"Yes, Eddie, we're here." Laura turned to her husband. "There's no reason to think he'd come back to Los Angeles. It's been almost twenty years." She was trying to reassure herself more than her husband.

After a moment, Eddie's intercom came back to life. "You said he was released nearly a week ago. See if you can find his current whereabouts for us as soon as possible." There was a note of urgency in Mrs. Steele's voice that Eddie had never heard before. He wondered what could be so frightening about this Major Descoine. But his questions would have to wait. When Laura Steele asked for something as soon as possible, she meant as soon as possible.

Thursday, 11:00 AM.

Once she was inside the main terminal of the airport, Kate stopped. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She exhaled and slowly opened her eyes. She was really here! Katharine Laura Steele... away from Los Angeles by herself. She had to constantly remind herself during her 45-minute flight that this was indeed happening. I'll show Dad, she thought to herself. I'm not a little girl anymore.

Kate picked up her carry-on bag, determined to prove herself, both to her father and to herself.

As she passed a bin of French bread, Kate glanced at her watch. The readout was 11:10. A sudden panic shot through her. Eleven-ten! If I'm going to make that bus, I'd better hurry! She headed for the lower level, walking down the escalator in an effort to save time.

Kate got outside the terminal and to the bus stop just as a bus was pulling away. She turned to a foreign-looking man and spoke to him.

"Excuse me, sir," she began. "...but what bus was that that just left?"

"Lo siento, pero no hablo inglés," the man said calmly.

Having inherited her mother's inability with languages, Kate decided not to bother the man further. She was about to consult the computerized schedule next to the wall of the terminal when a voice came from behind her.

"The 'F'."

Kate turned around. Sitting on the bench were two kids her own age... a boy and a girl. Both had reddish-brown hair. It was clear to Kate they were brother and sister, more than likely twins. The boy smiled at her.

"It was the 'F' that just left," he continued, somewhat disappointedly.

"Darn!" Kate muttered.

The twins looked at each other and smiled. "Let me guess," the boy quizzed. "You wanted that bus."

"Whoa, you're good," Kate answered, sarcastically. "As a matter of fact, I did need that one. I have an interview at..." she continued, but somewhat reluctantly. She wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone.

"Stanford?" The boy finished the sentence for her. A disapproving look from his sister made him think twice about venturing forth any further conversation.

"Wow! What a coincidence. So do we!" The redheaded girl's eyes lit up. She could sense that the attractive brunette didn't really want to talk, but she made every effort to be polite.

"You might as well make yourself comfortable," she continued. "It'll be at least a half hour before another bus comes." The twins made room for Kate on the bench. "The last one was full, but we're first in line for the next one."

Kate chose not to accept their gracious offer. Instead, she found a seat on another bench, facing the twins. She put down her stuff and went over to the computer-schedule. After a moment, the twins' story was corroborated. It would indeed be a half an hour wait.

When she returned to her seat, she smiled politely at the brother and sister. They smiled back, but said nothing. She got out a pad of paper and a pen. After a moment of thought, Kate knew what she would write... a letter to Brian, detailing the early part of her journey. By the time the letter's chronology had caught up with real life, the bus was there.

The twins boarded first, and sat together in the back. A half an hour of silence had given them both the impression that the girl didn't want to be sociable, so they made no further effort at conversation.

Thursday, 12:45 PM

Major Percy Descoine had become Eddie Simms' top priority. When he returned from lunch, the completed search was on his screen. As soon as he read it himself, he routed it to Mrs. Steele's terminal.

Laura, who had been conducting a minimally successful computer-search of her own, welcomed the findings of someone more seasoned in the techniques. She had been plugging away since before lunch, and was quite relieved to see the completed product. Thanks, Eddie, she thought. Mildred would be proud. Before she had read the whole summary, she got a printout and rushed into her husband's office.

"Here's Descoine's last known..." Laura began, catching Steele mid-pace. He had adopted the habit of pacing back and forth in front of his office window when they had moved to their new offices.

"Let's have it," he demanded anxiously.

"Friday, he left Soledad and came to L.A.," Laura began, her eyes several lines ahead of her mouth, "where he visited some local shops and..." She stopped, her eyes wide with horror.

"What? What is it?" came her husband's anxious reply.

"Yesterday, he was booked on flight 454 from Los Angeles to..."

Steele didn't want to say it, but he knew. He prayed for the next words out of his wife's mouth to be anything but...

"...San Francisco."

Thursday, 1:00 PM.

An hour and a quarter after she boarded the bus, Kate got off. During the ride, she had managed to add only another paragraph to her letter before the bumps in the road made her put it away. She had passed the rest of the time just looking out the window. Northern California didn't seem too different from Southern to her.

The last stop, the point where the driver called "Everybody out!" was the Stanford Shopping Center. Once one of the classier malls with stores such as Bullock's and The Broadway, the shopping center had deteriorated somewhat in the past fifteen years. The lowered standards didn't bother Kate any, for she was able to find her favorite fast food restaurant.

After a satisfying lunch of chicken nuggets and fries, Kate set off toward the campus, map in hand. Her interview wasn't until tomorrow, so she decided to find her hostesses dorm room and explore the campus a little. She took out the letter that had come the previous week and hit the highlights again: you will be staying in Stern Hall 107 (Freshman housing) with Nicole Harper. All further materials -- schedules, meal tickets, etc. await you in your student host's room.

Kate folded the letter and returned it to her backpack. Taking her tray to the trash can herself, she left the restaurant and headed down the Arboretum Road toward Palm Drive and the main entrance to the University.

After the ten-minute walk from the shopping center to Stern Hall, Kate was anxious to meet her host for the weekend. It was a relatively new dorm, as were most of the buildings on campus. Stanford had been hard hit by the Big Quake, and many buildings had been destroyed. They were, however, replaced or upgraded to stronger, more sound structures like the new Stern Hall.

Kate found room 107 easily. The door was nearly covered with newspaper clippings, comics, and pictures. There was a distinctly feminine memo board below eye level, with the names "Nicki" and "Cindy" on it. Kate spent a moment studying the door before she knocked.

"It's open. Come in," came the voice from inside the room. Kate turned the knob and opened the door, somewhat slowly. She leaned her head in and looked around.

"Is Nicki here?" she asked.

"You must be Kate, right?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you." Kate stepped into the room fully, and only then did the decor attract her attention. The walls, at least on the half of the room that Nicki was standing in, were covered with posters. Most of them were movie posters, something Kate knew all too well. As long as she could remember, her father had collected them. Now Brian was beginning to as well. She recognized "Casablanca," "Star Wars IX," and her brother's favorite, "Back to the Future." The rest were titles unfamiliar to her, though the man on the "Nomads" poster looked strangely familiar.

The other side of the room, presumably Cindy's, had a personality completely different from Nicki's. It was done in pastels, matching bedspread and towels. Even the colors on the posters, both of cute kittens, were pinks and yellows.

"I must confess," Nicki began as she put on a hooded sweatshirt. "I didn't expect you until later today."

"Is there a problem?" Kate completed her survey of the room and looked at Nicki. She was a tall girl, blond and rather muscular. She was naturally pretty, but didn't work at it. Kate noticed that she, wore little or no makeup.

"Well, no. Not if you want to come with me to practice." Nicki's smile shone through, and her blue eyes twinkled slightly.

"Practice? What sport?" Kate asked, putting her overnight bag down at the foot of Nicki's bed.

"Crew."

"What?"

"Rowing."

"Oh. I'll try anything once, I guess," Kate told her, trying to convince herself as much as Nicki that she wanted to go. "Besides, I don't have anywhere else to be." Kate started to put her backpack down by its companion, but Nicki shook her head.

"You might want to bring something along. It could get boring. Especially if you're not a big crew fan."

"How could you tell?" Kate asked sarcastically.

"Come on, the Lagunita awaits." Nicki smiled and put her arm around Kate's shoulder. Somehow, both girls knew that they'd be friends even if Kate disliked Stanford Women's Crew Practice.

Thursday, 2:35 PM.

It's been an hour, Bri. How could anyone stand to row a boat for that long? Actually rowing is probably the only thing more boring than sitting here on the dock, waiting for them to finish.

Kate put the pen back in the pocket of her backpack and refolded the letter. It was more of a journal than a letter now, but Kate was sure Brian would enjoy it, so she continued with it.

She sat on the dock for a moment, unsure of what to do. It was a warm, sunny day, the kind that made her glad to be from California. She was thinking about just that when a particularly cool breeze came off the water and made her correct herself.

Kate was beginning to feel her legs tighten up from sitting so long. She stood up and decided that a short walk would do them a world of good. She strolled along the shoreline for a few moments, enjoying the peace and quiet. Her thoughts almost instantly turned to home, to Mom and Dad. All she could focus on was the fight she had to put up just to get there. Was it really worth it, Kate? she thought. You really upset Dad, you know. And for what? So you could walk along the shore of a lake at Stanford? It'll all be just a memory in a week, anyway.

The thought that the beautiful campus she had begun to fall in love with might only be a memory a week hence stirred something deep within Kate. No matter WHAT Dad says, I'm going to Stanford! Kate swore silently. And I'm going to really start checking it out now.

Taking out her pen and notebook once more, Kate began a note to Nicki:

Nicki,

You were right. Crew practice isn't much of a spectator sport. I've decided to take a look at the campus on my own. After all, that's why I'm here. I think I'll hit the bookstore before I head back to the room. See you at 5.

Kate

Now all the young Miss Steele needed was a place to put the note so that Nicki would be sure to find it. She decided that the locker room would be the best place. Inside, she began to read the names marked in masking tape along the rows. When she found "Harper" she stopped. Kate tucked the note between the metal door and the frame, so that it would be sure to fall out when Nicki opened the locker. Kate turned and left.

For a short distance, Kate followed the well-worn path along the shore. When it forked, she turned right and headed back toward campus. Her mind was still on the situation at home, so she wasn't paying much attention to where her feet were leading her. Before she realized it, she had almost collided with a kid on a skateboard. She stepped back (and into a tall chain-link fence) just in time to avoid the collision.

The skateboarder reminded Kate of her brother, perhaps in that neither was very good, and she thought of what Brian might be doing at the moment. Let's see... 2:45 she thought as she looked at her watch. The watch had been a present from her father on her 16th birthday, and she had almost never been without it since. 2:45... he should be starting swim practice about now.

As Kate rounded the corner of the fence she had been absent-mindedly following, a sign caught her eye. Moving closer to investigate (a trait that ran in the family), she found out that the building surrounded by the fence was Roble Hall. It had been Freshman housing until the most recent earthquake inspection, when it had been declared "Unsafe for Human Habitation."

Quake inspections were a regular part of life in California. They had been ever since the big Northern California one back in the Fall of 1989. That quake and it's massive damage, had widespread implications throughout all of California... even in the Steele home. Reading the sign on the soon-to-be-destroyed building stirred Kate's memory of watching the destruction on television. She had been four or so, but she could still remember certain things, like the flattened freeways. Turning her attention back to the present, Kate made a mental note to include Roble Hall in the next section of her letter-turned-journal to Brian.

A few minutes later, Kate was standing outside Stanford's Green Bookstore. The courtyard in front of the building was the prettiest part of the campus she'd seen so far. The wide open area was about fifty yards square, flanked by trees of all sorts, and had a beautiful fountain in the center. The fountain had some sort of modern sculpture in it, and the way the water splashed down it had a near-hypnotic effect on Kate.

After a few minutes of enjoying the scenery, Kate went into the bookstore. Checking her backpack at the door, she proceeded immediately to the textbook section, the Criminology department in particular. She began to skim through the titles. When she had reached the next-to-last shelf, she stopped. A wide grin seized her face as she took the black-covered book off the shelf. My Ten Greatest Cases, she read. By Remington Steele. She was quite familiar with the book, but she couldn't help thumbing through.

More than once Kate had heard the story behind the book. Not long after her parents (they weren't married yet, though) started the agency, Mr. Steele was approached by a local publisher with an offer. Nothing came of it at the time, but a few years ago the offer had been revived and accepted. Kate would never forget the case-selection process. Her parents would tell her (and Brian) the story of a particular case, and based on the children's reactions, the case was either rejected totally or considered further. Mom and Dad had had the final say, of course, but Kate still felt proud of her contribution.

She still remembered most of the published cases. The titles were familiar: "The Abbot of Costello," "Corporate Hit-Men," "Mystery Train," "Kidnaped in Lansing," "The Leprechaun," and Kate's personal favorite, "A Krugerrand for Katie." She also remembered some of the cases that didn't make the top ten: "Wrestlemania," "The Chocolate Chip Cookie Caper," and one that had been quickly dismissed by Mom when Dad mentioned it: "Major Descoine."

Kate put the book back on its shelf and wandered toward the gift department. As she was passing by the postcard rack, one in particular caught her eye. There, amid the postcards of the Lagunita (which somehow struck her as funny) was the fountain she'd fallen in love with. She took the postcard without hesitation and continued to the sweatshirts.

After she'd picked out a white sweatshirt for Mom and a red one for Brian, Kate set about the problem of finding something for her father. Somehow nothing she tried was quite right. The sweats were too casual, the polos were too preppy, and the ties were too tacky. Kate was so absorbed in making her decision that she didn't notice the older man at the postcard rack. There was little out of the ordinary about him. He was in his mid-to-late fifties and balding. He was, however, wearing clothes that hadn't been in style for twenty years. For several minutes now, he had been alternating between looking at the postcards and glancing in Kate's direction.

When Kate had finally chosen a mug for her father (he still drank tea rather than coffee, but Kate was sure he could adapt) she made her way to the checkout. A few moments later, after retrieving her backpack, she was sitting beside the fountain. She got out a pen, a stamp, and the postcard, and began to write to a friend who had recently moved to Minnesota.

While Kate was concentrating on the letter, the curious-looking man came out of the bookstore. He glanced around for a moment, nervously. He saw Kate and calmed down. He took a seat on a nearby bench. Only after Kate got up and crossed back to the mailbox in front of the bookstore did he leave his place.

As Kate checked her watch and realized it was getting late. She headed back toward Nicki's dorm, unaware that the man was following her.

Thursday, 5:00 PM.

"Just a touch more oregano, Maggie," Steele decided as he sampled the spaghetti sauce he was making. The hasty search that ensued revealed the elusive spice. Strangely enough, it wasn't out of place.

"Mr. Steele, are you all right?"

"Of course, Maggie dear, it only needed more oregano. Nothing serious." His eyes lit up for a brief moment as they met hers, but it didn't last.

"I'm serious, sir. You're worried about Katie, aren't you?"

"Now why should I be worried about my seventeen-year-old daughter," Steele wondered, in an effort to convince himself as much as Maggie, "who's five hundred miles from home all by herself?"

"Really, sir. You make it sound like she ran away from home." Maggie gave a slight chuckle and turned her attention back to her youngest son, seven-year old Morgan, who was badly in need of a face washing.

Didn't she? he thought.

All during dinner, Steele's thoughts turned to but one thing: Why hadn't she called? He found he had no appetite, though Maggie's spaghetti was excellent as usual. Brian had his usual two helpings.

"How's that Henderson case going, Mom?" the younger Steele asked, trying to get his father's mind off Kate.

"We're wrapping it up now, Brian. It should be finished by dinner tomorrow." She answered him almost too quickly, and he noticed it. As he was about to ask the next logical question, she anticipated him.

"I think your father and I will take some time off, and spend it with you. Does that sound good to you, dear?"

"Uh... what, Laura?" Her comment had caught him by surprise.

"I was saying that you and I should take some time off as soon as this Henderson case is wrapped up." Even Brian recognized the note of annoyance in her voice.

Very little was said after that.

Thursday, 5:30 PM.

"Look! There's Jenny. I hear she's got a rookie this weekend, too. Let's join 'em," Nicki suggested as Kate paid for her dinner. They had decided to "eat out" at the Student Union, famous for its greasy french fries and pizza.

"Fine," Kate agreed, looking in despair at the meal on her tray. She normally ate healthy foods (with the exception of "chickie nuggets" as she had called them many years ago), and the pizza and fries didn't really appeal to her. She followed Nicki toward the booth where Jenny was sitting.

Jenny Maceda was a pretty girl of Philippino descent. She and Nicki had met in their Literature class, and had become instant friends. Both were friendly, outgoing people, which explained why both hosted prospective students often.

As Kate looked from Jenny to the girl next to her, she suddenly realized who it was... the redheaded girl from the bus! Kate involuntarily looked around for her twin brother, and as if on cue, he emerged from the counter, two drinks in hand.

"Jenny, this is Kate," Nicki began, as she sat opposite Jenny. "And Kate, this is Jenny Maceda. She's in my Lit class."

"Kris Sullivan," Jenny said, turning to the redheaded girl. "This is Nicki Harper and Kate..."

"...Steele," Kate finished.

Just then, Kris's brother reached the table. He smiled at his sister, then turned to the newcomers. When he recognized Kate, he smiled again.

"Well, hello again," he greeted as he sat down next to his sister. "I'm Steve. Steve Sullivan."

"I'm Nicole Harper, and I guess you already know Kate Steele."

"Well, not officially. Nice to meet you, Kate Steele." Steve looked as though he was thinking about her, like he knew her from somewhere.

"Do you both have interviews here?" Kate inquired of the twins as she took a bite of her pizza.

"Yes," they answered in stereo, and began to eat their own dinners.

None of the entrees was too appetizing, so the conversation filled in the gaps. Nicki and Jenny began to discuss the latest Lit assignment, leaving Kate with no choice but to talk with the twins.

"Where are you from, Kate?" Steve wanted to know.

"Los Angeles."

"You wouldn't by chance know of a Remington Steele there, would you?" he asked, and turned to his sister in time to get one of her "I can't take you anywhere" looks.

"He's my father." Kate was curious. "How do you know about him?"

Kris and Steve exchanged looks of astonishment. It was Kris who spoke first.

"Your dad's Steve's hero. He's read your father's book at least five times."

"Really?" Kate was almost as surprised as the twins. "Dad'll be glad to know he has such fans. By the way, where are you guys from?"

"Denver."

"No kidding?" Kate asked. "My godparents live in Denver. My godfather's an investigator too. Maybe you've heard of him... Murphy Michaels?"

Steve's eyebrows rose another notch, if that was possible. "Heard of him? Of course we have. I even got to meet him once. He was at our school for a few days during a career week." He shook his red head slowly, as if unable to believe his extreme good fortune. "This is incredible."

The conversation continued for some minutes in this manner. Kate, though pleased that the Sullivan twins knew of her father, was a little touchy on the subject. Every time Steve would ask a question about him, she'd try to change the subject. Kris caught on to Kate's intentions, and finally jumped into the conversation.

"So, Kate. What do you think your major'll be?" Kris asked, preempting her brother.

"I'm not sure. I don't even know where I'll end up going to school. Dad's really opposed to my going too far away."

Kris sensed that she had stumbled onto the root of the problem. She looked around the table, and noting that everyone was done, decided it was time to leave.

"Ready to go?" She pushed her brother ever-so-slightly.

After they had put their trays back and thrown away the trash, the group headed outside. It had started to get cloudy, and Kate donned her new red Stanford sweatshirt. As she put it on, she noticed the odd man from the bookstore out of the corner of her eye. She stopped for a moment, then continued.

The group walked together for a few minutes, then split up when it came to the dorms. Jenny and Kris walked off toward the Lagunita, while Steve went with Nicki and Kate to Stern hall. It seemed his host lived there, too, but had been busy with a Biology lab all afternoon.

By the time the three reached the dorm, it was getting dark and it was starting to rain. Kate couldn't put her finger on what it was, but something made her feel uneasy. She turned around and saw a dark figure nearly twenty yards behind them. She didn't say anything to Nicki or Steve, but she was glad they were there.

Thursday, 7:45 PM.

"Dad?" Brian looked up from his Geometry book.

"What is it, Brian?" his father answered absently. Both were in the living room, Brian seated on the couch with his homework spreading across the coffee table in front of him, his father pacing back and forth in front of the shelves.

"What do you know about Geometry?" Brian's eyes pleaded for help. He was a bright boy, but he just couldn't understand proofs and theorems.

"Why don't you ask your mother? She's the mathematics genius in this family." Steele stopped pacing. Thinking about Laura's math background led to Stanford. Stanford meant Katie. Steele's already-crinkled brow crunched itself further, and he began to pace once more.

"Sorry I asked," Brian muttered to himself, and went back to work. He wasn't able to concentrate long, though. His father's nervousness was beginning to get to him. He couldn't take the silence any longer, so he decided to chance getting yelled at.

"Dad, why are you so worried about Kate? She's only visiting the University. It's not as though she ran away to join the circus," he joked, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"We haven't heard from her since we put her on the plane this morning, Brian," Steele confided frankly.

"What's the big deal? That wasn't even twelve hours ago. To be considered a missing person, you have to be gone for 24." The latest attempt at humor failed miserably, as the cold expression on his father's face indicated.

"It isn't just that we haven't heard from her. There's something else in the picture. Something that could be very dangerous."

"What?"

There was a moment of silence as Steele approached his son, and neither noticed the boy's mother in the doorway.

"A long time ago, Brian," Steele began as he sat down next to his son. "Your mother and I met up with a particularly nasty character. His name was..."

"Dear! Could I see you in the kitchen for a moment?" There was no mistaking the urgency in Laura's voice. It was a tone both her husband and her son knew all too well. Brian involuntarily shuddered as his father got up and joined his mother in the doorway. He could see the cold stare in her eyes. Brian didn't envy his father at that particular moment. He did his best to act busy while trying to listen to what they were saying, but he couldn't make out the conversation.

They were barely inside the kitchen when Laura began to speak. She wasted neither time nor words.

"Just what do you think you were doing?" she demanded.

"Laura, the boy has a right to know..."

"To know what? That there's a madman fresh out of prison who's been after his parents for twenty years!? That's hardly a reassuring bit of information for a high school Freshman!"

"All right, Laura." Steele's tone was louder than either would have deemed appropriate. "I admit it might be a rather unpleasant awakening, but the boy has to learn about that bastard Descoine sometime!"

"I don't deny that," Laura said in a cool, logical voice. She used this firm but compelling tone when she was trying to regain control of the conversation. Both were familiar with her tactic, but she continued undaunted. "But I'm not so sure right now is the most opportune time."

"Then you're saying that we shouldn't tell him that his sister is probably in the hands of a deranged madman right now?" Steele's brogue was beginning to show, something that recently had begun to happen only when he was very upset.

"We don't know that! There could be any number of reasons why she hasn't called." Laura flinched at having let on more than she wanted to. She had been behind her daughter all the way on the trip, and her concern was just what her husband had been waiting for.

"So you're as worried as I am," Steele surmised, in a much softer voice.

"Yes, I am," she confessed as they embraced.

Thursday, 8:15 PM.

"Whatcha writing, Kate?" Nicki put her Lit book down for a moment.

"Nothing. Just a record of my trip. It started out as a letter to my little brother, but now it's more of a journal. You know, the sights and sounds of Stanford. I'm writing about that old deserted Roble Hall by the Lagunita now. My brother'd like that place," Kate answered, and jumped down off the bed. "Speaking of little brothers, I should call home. They're probably worried about me." At least Dad is, she thought. You can be sure of that.

"Mind if I use your phone? Collect call."

"Go ahead."

Kate lifted the receiver to her ear. "That's funny." She clicked the buttons. "It's dead."

"It happens. You might try Marjorie's room down the hall."

"Thanks. I'd rather not go out."

Kate left and tried Marjorie's phone, but it was dead too. She came back to Nicki's room and put her sweatshirt on.

"Where are you going in this rain?"

"Just to find a phone. Besides, it's not raining as hard as it was."

Kate was lucky. There was a payphone that hadn't been knocked out by the storm by the Student Union. It was darker than she'd have preferred, but she had no choice.

She slipped the card into the slot and dialed the number. Her father's frantic voice was on the line.

"Katie Laura, is that you?"

"Yes Dad, it's me. You sound worried. Nothing's wrong. I just waited until the rates went down to call..."

"Katie, I want you to call a taxi and get to the airport and get on the next flight home!"

"Why? We had a deal, Dad!"

"Katherine Laura Steele, just listen to your father," came her mother's voice over the line. "We have reason to suspect that you may be in danger. You'd better come home as soon as possible!"

Kate had heard almost none of her mother's speech before she was grabbed from behind. She vaguely recognized the smell of chloroform as she lost consciousness...

"Katie, do you hear your mother?" Steele demanded, somewhat worried at the silence on the other end of the line.

The only answer to his question was a dial tone.

"Hello."

"Wendy, it's Laura."

"Oh, hi, Laura."

"Is Kate there?"

"No. We haven't seen her yet."

"You mean she wasn't calling from your house just a minute ago?"

"No. She hasn't been here yet. Is there something wrong?"

"Let's hope not." She hung up, too preoccupied to say goodbye.

Thursday, 9:30 PM.

"He has her, I know it!" Steele resumed his pacing. Laura was seated on the couch, where Brian had been an hour earlier. As the living room was the traditional place for serious discussions, Brian had gotten used to moving upstairs a long time ago.

"We're still not sure of that. It could have just been a bad connection." Laura was trying to reassure herself as much as she was him.

"Then why hasn't she called back?"

His question was met with the phone ringing. Both Steele and Laura scrambled to answer it. Since he was standing, Steele got there first. As he did, Brian came into the room. He had a coin in his hand. He showed it to his mother.

"Katie, is that you?" Steele said.

"The Searchers, John Wayne, Jeffrey Hunter, Natalie Wood. 20th Century-Fox, 1956." It wasn't Katie's voice.

Steele's mind clicked into action instantly. He knew that he was John Wayne in this little game, and that whoever was on the other end of the line (and he had a pretty good idea who it was) was holding his daughter. Straight out of the movie.

"Descoine, you bastard! Give me back my daughter!"

"All in due time, Steele. It's not her I want. Be at the Stanford Shopping Center, in the mall near The Broadway tomorrow at noon. Alone!"

Friday, 2:00 AM.

"Laura," Steele began for the hundredth time, "I understand how much you want to go..."

Do you really? It was me who practically pushed her into this trip.

"...but this is Descoine we're dealing with. He doesn't play by the rules. You know that." Steele shifted the weight of his hastily-packed overnight bag as they walked down the concourse. It hadn't even been 24 hours since they had been there last, and the fatigue of the interim had etched itself into their faces.

"It's not right!" Laura Holt Steele exclaimed. "It should be me going, not you. I got Katie into this. You were against it!"

"But Descoine wants me..."

"He only thinks he wants you. I solved the Lily Martin case before you even existed, remember?" It was hard for either of them to remember a life without the other, and a quiet moment passed between them.

When they arrived at the gate, Steele gave his boarding pass to the flight attendant and turned back to his wife. "Don't worry, Luv," he whispered just before their lips met.

"You know I will," came her delayed reply. She broke the embrace first, almost pushing him away. "Your flight's almost done boarding." It was true. Steele was the last of the four or so passengers on the late-night flight.

Halfway down the walkway, he turned back around. Just before the door closed, he mouthed the words "I love you, Laura."

"I love you too, Remington Steele."

After her husband's plane had taxied to the runway and vanished from sight, Laura approached the customer service booth at the gate. "Book me on your next flight to San Francisco, please."

"My name?" After a moment of thought, she answered, "Julia Spellman."

Friday, 10:15 AM.

A rather tired Laura Steele knocked firmly on the door. She had spent the better part of an hour trying to track down Miss Nicole Harper. Finally, all her inquiries and persistence led her to Stern Hall, Room 107. She smiled ever-so-slightly when she read the names on the memo board. The smile faded quickly, however, when she read further: "Kate - Where R U? I had to go to my Philosophy midterm. Left the key with Anna next door - Nicki."

"Hello? Kate?" Laura couldn't help but call. Her mind held one small hope that the Major might be bluffing. It would be so like him to play with their minds like that. She placed her ear against the door to detect any motion inside. "It's Mom..." But before she realized what she was saying, a girl's head popped out from inside the room two doors down. Laura blushed momentarily at the embarrassment she would have felt, had Abigail Holt chosen to visit her some twenty-odd years ago.

"Kate?" Laura called again, this time her voice more urgent. "Are you in there?" Again no answer. After a quick and casual survey of the hall to verify that it was indeed empty, Laura opened her purse and produced a small leather-bound case.

A gift from Murphy Michaels for her wedding, the case contained a miniature lockpick set. She had laughed when she first received it, but it had since come in handy more than once.

A moment later, she was inside Nicki's room. The decor caught her attention instantly-half pastel, half something else. Good grief, she's a movie buff, she thought as her eyes moved from "Star Wars IX" to "Casablanca."

Laura's attention was drawn to the desk by the window. At the foot of it she recognized Kate's backpack. When she got closer, she saw an unfinished letter on the desk. When she recognized the handwriting as Kate's. She gasped. Other than the letter and her backpack, there were no signs of Kate at all. Laura remembered the phone call of the night before and involuntarily shuddered. She had to fight hard to choke back the tears. Grabbing the letter, she tucked it neatly in her purse. Back outside, she scribbled a note on the board for Nicole.

Friday, 10:30 AM.

Inside the deserted Roble Hall, Katherine Laura Steele was just beginning to recover from the effects of the chloroform. Her vision was fuzzy, but getting clearer by the moment. She tried to rub her eyes, but found that her hands were secured behind her back. She soon realized that her feet were bound as well.

After a few moments, her vision cleared enough to make out her surroundings. She was on the bare concrete floor, in a room with a single door and a boarded-up window. The only furniture in the entire place was a small table in the corner nearest Kate. On it were several beer bottles and an ashtray full of the remnants of a couple of joints. Kate made the deduction from the items in sight, plus the musty smell, that this room had recently been used for a little "get-together."

Just the kind of people my father would worry about, she thought. She tried to work her hands free once more, but it was no use. Whoever had tied her up had definitely earned his Boy Scout Merit Badges.

Kate was still struggling when the door opened. She was expecting a gang of scroungy characters wearing old army fatigues and listening to early 80's music. That's the image of her abductors that the table's contents had given her. She couldn't have been more wrong.

She couldn't help feeling slightly embarrassed at what the kidnapper really looked like. He was an older man, perhaps fifty, whose mostly-grey hair was beginning to thin noticeably. He was wearing a yellow windbreaker, and had what looked like a metallic briefcase in one hand. It was a moment before Kate recognized him. It was the man from the bookstore.

"You! Why have you been following me around? What do you want..."

"There, there. All your questions will be answered in due time." His voice was cold and calculating. Kate opened her mouth to speak, but the man produced a particularly nasty-looking knife from his jacket pocket. "I don't think it would be a good idea to scream, Katherine." He made sure she could see the knife clearly. "Besides, nobody would hear you anyway. We're a long ways from anyone." He closed the door behind him.

Instead of screaming, Kate spoke in the cool, logical voice she'd inherited from her mother. "Who are you?" she demanded. Then it hit her... he'd called her Katherine!

"And how do you know my name?"

The man smiled a wicked smile. "I know a great deal about you, Katherine Laura Steele."

Kate was utterly baffled. How can a complete stranger, know so much about me? I must be overlooking something. Where could I know him from...

The man looked somehow disappointed. "I'm an old... er... acquaintance of your father's. Does that clear anything up?"

Kate still could come up with nothing.

"You mean he's never told you about his run-ins with a certain... Major Descoine?" His emphasis was on the last two words, and Kate was sure she heard pride in his voice.

"Major Descoine? I'm sorry, but I've only heard the name once, that's all." Kate remembered when she and Brian were helping to select the stories for Dad's book. He'd mentioned a Major Descoine then, but Mom had vetoed that particular case in a big hurry. Other than that instance, Kate could not remember hearing the name mentioned.

The man was becoming upset. His face was growing red, and his teeth were clenched. "Why, that coward!" he snarled, then his features became more pleasant. "He was scared for you. He didn't want his baby girl having nightmares!" He laughed out loud.

Kate wasn't particularly pleased with his remark, but he'd piqued her curiosity. Things were beginning to add up: Mom insisting on handling one particular drawer herself when she and Katie were cleaning out the agency's old case files and the rejected story for the book were just the beginning.

"Your father and I go way back, young lady," Descoine began. Kate listened to his story with a strange mix of apprehension and anticipation. "Our paths have crossed several times," he continued. "First, all the way back in 1978." Kate's reaction indicated that she was amazed her parents had lives before she was born.

"There was a woman." Descoine launched into his tale. As he spoke, he moved to the table and began to toy with the briefcase. "Her name was Lily Martin. She was very special to me..." There was a moment of silence, and Katie thought she could see a tear in Descoine's eye. He stood motionless for a few seconds, then he began to unlock the case.

"And your father was responsible for her death!" The man's violent mood swings were starting to scare Kate. She was beginning to fear for her safety now. He had the case entirely open, but Kate couldn't see what was inside it.

"How is that, if I may ask?" she said in an effort to calm him.

"His investigation of our... er... activities was more than she could handle. She took her own life at the acid vats of an old factory north of Los Angeles." Descoine was talking to Kate, but looking into the briefcase.

"Then, when I got out of prison, I paid him a little visit. Your father was the one who almost went to prison that time, young lady."

"Through no fault of yours, I'm sure." Kate tried to disguise her contempt, but it didn't work. Her father's temper was showing through. Descoine's hands made some clicking sounds behind the briefcase's open lid.

"Then we ran into each other again at a party where they served particularly powerful champagne." He paused, as if remembering a past glory.

"Of course there were always the games we played at The Magic Kingdom... and I even took you on a little vacation once when you were an infant. My... uh... 'prolonged absence' is a direct result of that little run-in."

"Prison?" Kate asked coolly, all the while her mind whirling. Me? He kidnaped me? Why didn't they ever tell me?

"Your father has taught you well, young lady." Descoine produced something like a small telescope from behind the briefcase. Kate knew instantly what it was... a sight for a high-powered rifle! Her heart skipped a beat as Descoine looked through the sight at her. At once, Descoine's plan was clear: It wasn't her he wanted, it was her father!

"So you're going to kill him?" Kate's voice was shaky but compelling. "For bringing you to justice?"

"We'll have to see about that, now won't we? For now, I have a little something for you to do." He replaced the sight and took out a microcassette recorder. "I'd like you to tape a message to your father. He'll undoubtedly want to talk to you."

"And if I don't?" Kate's mind was beginning to function at a fantastic rate. The gunsight had gotten her adrenalin pumping.

"I really don't think you're in a position to refuse. Now say what I tell you."

Kate was uneasy, but did as he asked. Descoine held the recorder in front of her. "Hi, Dad. It's me. I... uh... guess you were right about going away from home. But I'm okay. He hasn't hurt me. And Dad... Tell Brian I'm all right! I love you."

When Kate was saying the part about Brian, Descoine looked at her suspiciously. After a moment, he dismissed the comment to the fact she must be very close to her brother.

"That's very good." Descoine was quite satisfied with himself. He put the recorder in his pocket and closed the briefcase. Crossing back to the door, he turned to Kate.

"Like I said, Miss Steele. Don't waste your breath yelling. The only people around are the wrecking crew, and they've already made their final survey."

"What?"

"Didn't I tell you? This building is going to be torn down in..." He glanced at his watch. "Three hours." He shut the door behind him, briefcase in hand, and laughed a demonic laugh.

As soon as he was gone, Kate began to struggle to free herself. It looked hopeless; Descoine had tied her too tightly. Inheriting her mother's self-condemnation, she began to blame herself for the predicament. Why didn't you listen to Dad more closely? He could figure a way out of this!

She wrestled with the ropes again, but it was still no use.

Friday, 11:30 AM.

The Stanford Shopping Center was a bustling place on Friday morning. People, both students and adults, were going about their errands. The mall was so busy that few people paid any attention at all to the man leaning against the wall next to the payphone. He was trying to look preoccupied reading a newspaper, but an occasional yawn betrayed him. Remington Steele hadn't gotten much sleep in the past day, and his face showed it. Two days of salt- and-pepper stubble betrayed his normally impeccable facade. His outward appearance wasn't the only thing not running at optimum levels, either. Had he gotten more sleep in the recent past, he might have noticed his wife of 19 years watching him from only fifty yards away.

Laura Holt Steele was sitting at a table of one of the restaurants in the mall. She, too, was reading a newspaper, but much more convincingly than her husband. Every few moments, Laura would look up. She'd glance both left and right, as casually as she could. Then, as her eyes were sinking back to the paper, she'd dart a quick peek in her husband's direction. Once while she was looking at him, he turned toward her. Her heart jumped. She didn't want him to know she was here. If he found out, he'd be furious. That was the last thing he needed. Fortunately, she was able to duck behind the paper in time.

Just after the near-miss, three teenagers entered the restaurant area. Nicki, Kris and Steve were busily looking at all the patrons, trying to recognize someone. It was Nicki who first saw Laura behind her paper.

"Mrs. Steele?" she asked (rather loudly, Laura thought) as the group approached her.

"Yes. Sit. But keep it down!" came quietly from somewhere behind the headline.

"What for? What's going on? Where's Kate?" Nicki asked, genuinely concerned.

"You must be Nicole and friends," Laura began. After a moment, she added, "Kate's in trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" Steve wanted to know.

"Who are you?" Laura questioned curtly.

"I'm Steve Sullivan, and this is my sister Kris," Steve answered. "We're real big fans of your husband, Mrs. Steele." There was a time when a comment like that would have infuriated Laura Holt, but long ago she had learned to accept the role of "Mrs. Remington Steele." She had considered it a vast improvement over "Unidentified Woman."

"I'm sorry," Nicki continued. "They're also prospectives. They hit it off with Kate quite well last night. Now, if you'll excuse me, what's going on?"

"Fine. Kate's been kidnaped," the trio, especially Nicki, went pale, "...by an old adversary of mine..." She looked at the reaction on Steve's face. "...my husband's. We're sure she's being held somewhere on campus. That's where you come in. It's been a long time since I've been here."

"That's right," Nicki remembered. "Kate told me you went to Stanford."

"Yes," Laura answered as she sneaked a glance in her husband's direction. She thought she had been subtle enough, but Kris noticed her move.

"Who are you watching, Mrs. Steele? The kidnapper?"

"No, my husband. That's him... over by the payphone." All three turned at once.

"...but don't look now," Laura said too late.

Kris and Nicki turned back and could see the disapproval on Laura's face. A firm but gentle nudge from his sister brought Steve back around.

Subtle they're not, Laura thought. "He's waiting word from the Major... the man who's got Katie." She fell silent.

"I need your help," she continued after a moment. "If my hunch is right, Mr. Steele will take care of the Major, so we'll have to rescue Katie. Can I count you in?" There was a note of hope in her voice.

"You bet!" Steve said without thought or hesitation. He looked at his sister and smiled slightly. "Right?"

Not quite sharing her brother's enthusiasm to help the great Remington Steele, but still possessing enough desire for adventure, Kris responded positively. All three then looked at Nicki. She avoided their glances.

Laura knew this type of activity wasn't for everyone (she had actually been surprised the twins had agreed). "That's all right, Nicki. We understand. It's just that we could use your knowledge of the campus,"

"It's not that I don't care about Kate, Mrs. Steele. I just don't... I don't want to get into any trouble."

Laura said that she understood, but hoped she would reconsider. The entreaty proved to be in vain, but a workable solution was devised: Laura, Steve and Kris would use the twin's maps combined with Laura's memories of the campus while Nicole would return to her room to act as a sort of "home base."

The plan of operation was just beginning to take shape when the payphone down the mall rang.

"Steele here."

"Very good, Steele. You seem to have followed instructions well. For your daughter's sake, I hope you've come alone..."

"I'm alone, Descoine." To the best of his knowledge, he was.

"That's good. The next step is..."

"Let me talk to my daughter!"

"Very well, Steele. I figured you'd want to talk to her. Here's a tape of her made not an hour ago."

"A tape! What're you tryin' to pull, mate? I want to talk to my daughter. Person-to-person, you might say."

"Sorry, old chap. She's not with me. You could easily have this call traced."

"I gave you my word, Descoine. No tricks!"

"I'm afraid you'll have to live with this, Steele." The next voice he heard was his daughter's.

Hi, Dad. It's me. I... uh... guess you were right about going away from home. But I'm okay. He hasn't hurt me. And Dad... tell Brian I'm all right! I love you.

Steele was frustrated and wished his daughter had been able to give him some sort of clue... something to go on..

"All right. What do you want?" Steele's voice betrayed his feelings.

"Calm down, Steele. I won't harm the girl... if you cooperate."

"Get to the point already!"

"I want you. I'll trade your daughter's life for yours. Is it a deal?"

Steele was dumbfounded. He'd never expected to be forced to make this decision. At least he hoped he'd never have to. But, without a second thought, he agreed.

"Where and when?" His voice was much quieter.

"One o'clock at portal 17 of the stadium. Again, come alone."

"Agreed." The two men hung up simultaneously. Steele leaned up against the wall and closed his eyes.

"What does he want?" came Laura's voice. Must be dreaming, he thought. She's still in Los Angeles. He only realized that was a premature assumption when she gave him a shove.

"Laura! What're you doing here? You were supposed to stay in Los Angeles! If Descoine finds out you're here..."

"He won't. At least not until it's too late," she assured him confidently. "By the way, this is Kris Sullivan and her brother, Steve." Laura nodded in the twins' direction. They had been standing back, but moved forward when Laura introduced them. "They're friends of Katie's. They and her student host are willing to help me...us find our missing daughter."

"That won't be necessary. She'll be delivered safely at one o'clock," Steele said slowly.

"Then what did Descoine want? Surely not just to say 'hello.'"

"Me."

"I'll say one thing for him... he's consistent!"

William Shatner, Star Trek II, Paramount, 1982. Steele didn't think the reference merited lip service.

"I'm to meet him at one."

"What else did he say? Did you talk to Katie?" Laura's voice had taken on its note of urgency again.

"He didn't have her with him. I got to hear a recording of her."

"What did she say? There might be a clue!"

"No clue. Just that she was all right. She wanted me to be sure to tell Brian she was okay. He wants a final confrontation. In the stadium."

"You can't be serious about going!" Laura exclaimed in horror. "It's got to be a trap! He'll be waiting to pick you off!"

"What am I supposed to do? He's going to trade Katie Laura's life for mine... a fair deal." He was determined to go through with it, and Laura knew it. She had tried to dissuade her husband once he really had his mind was made up before, and found it a futile endeavor.

"At least take some backup with you!" she pleaded.

"I can't. He'll not tell us where Kate is!"

Laura thought for a moment, then smiled. "Take them anyway."

"You don't understand! She'll be killed!" Steele said, confused at his wife's apparent disregard for Kate.

"What was her message again?"

"Nothing important. She said she was all right."

"There was more."

"She wanted us to tell Brian that she was okay."

At that, Laura smiled.

"What's to be happy about?" Steele asked, almost violently.

"I know where she is. At least I know where to find out. See if you can get some police back up. Will you be able to handle Descoine?"

"I'm sure of it."

"Then we'll see you at the stadium." They kissed and parted ways, the Sullivan twins going with Laura.

Friday, 12:10 PM.

Just a little... bit.. further... Kate thought, trying to work her hands loose. Descoine had been gone for some minutes now, and she'd seen the opportunity to escape. If I could just get one hand free...

In her struggle to free herself, Kate's legs bumped the table. She hit it with enough force that one of the beer bottles fell on its side. An idea hit Kate like lightning. If I can knock the bottle off the table and break it... She kicked at the table again. Because of the restraints on her ankles, her coordination was off. It took her several tries to hit the table again.

Finally her efforts were rewarded. The bottle fell off the table and shattered! Scooting over to the broken glass, Kate took one of the larger shards in her hands. She bent her wrist as far as she could and began to work on the ropes.

Maybe you're your father's daughter after all, Katherine Laura Steele, the mental emphasis on the last name.

Friday, 12:15 PM.

Descoine had researched his plan thoroughly. Today the stadium was deserted. The football team was away. The Stanford Cardinals were playing the USC Trojans in Los Angeles. The Trojans mattered little to Descoine... just the fact that the place was empty was important to him.

He easily picked the lock, and entered the gate. Wearing his yellow windbreaker, he would most likely be mistaken for Grounds Crew. He had planned it that way.

After he made his way to portal #17, Descoine walked up the steps to the main entrance. At the top, he paused. He turned around and surveyed the surroundings. He could not see the beauty of that place... all he could see was revenge. The musty, rotten revenge that had eaten away at him for nearly two decades. It will all be over in a very short time, Steele... for both of us. He turned back and entered the stadium through the same portal Steele would be using in a matter of minutes.

Friday, 12:30 PM.

"How do you know where they're holding Kate, Mrs. Steele?" Kris asked as the group left the mall.

"Not they, Kris. He. And Kate herself gave us the clue!" She reached into her purse and pulled out the letter to Brian. "I'm positive that after I read this, I'll know where she is. Let's sit here for a moment." Laura's face had acquired the grim determination it always got when she was chasing a lead.

"Dear Brian," she began. She merely mouthed or mumbled the rest until... "abandoned building, because of earthquake safety!"

"What?" came the stereo reply.

"When Kate was ten or so, she and her brother went into an old house, not far from our own."

"And?"

"The place was condemned because of the new earthquake regulations. It was old anyway, and Kate sprained her ankle when she fell through a rotted board. It's been a joke between the two of them ever since."

She read further, then jumped up suddenly. She began to almost run in the direction of campus.

"So where are we going?" Steve asked, genuinely confused.

"Roble hall! It's scheduled to be demolished this afternoon!"

Some minutes later the group arrived at Roble hall. There was a chain lock on the fence that had been forced, and they went in.

At the front door, Laura paused. She thought she heard a noise inside.

"Katie?" she said, a silent prayer accompanying the question. There was no intelligible reply. Laura got out her lockpick and set to work on the lock.

A few moments later, the door was unlocked. Laura opened it, and there was Kate! She was just standing up, after having gotten out of her bonds.

"Oh, Mom!"

"Katie!" The two embraced forcefully.

Kris and Steve, feeling somewhat like outsiders, stuck close to the door. It was Kris who looked at her watch first.

"Mrs. Steele? Shouldn't we go help your husband?"

"Kris, Steve," Kate marveled that they were here as well. "What's Dad doing?" She was shocked that not only had her mother come up, but her father as well.

"He's gone to meet the Major."

Kate's eyes widened with horror. "He can't!" she cried.

"Why? What's the matter, hon?" Laura realized she was still hugging her daughter, and finally let go.

"Descoine took a high-powered rifle with him! He's going to kill Dad!"

Friday, 1:00 PM.

Remington Steele walked through the gate onto the stadium grounds. He left the gate open, and several heavily-armed police officers followed him. When he reached the actual portal itself, he turned to them and signaled to stay back.

"Descoine?" he shouted. "I'm here."

"Come in to my parlor, said the spider to the fly."

Steele walked forward, and his eyes were drawn to a small object some fifty yards down the stairs. As he approached it, he recognized it and it's significance hit him. It was Katie's stuffed Bruin Bear.

Once he realized that the bear had been bait, Steele turned around. Above the portal entrance, not five rows from the top of the stadium, was Major Percy Descoine. Wearing the bright yellow windbreaker, he was hard to miss. And so was the rifle in his hands. Steele instinctively dived behind the nearest row of seats.

"Come now, Mr. Steele!" Descoine called, standing up. You're taking all the fun out of it! I assure you, I have no intention of you coming out of this alive!" He fired in Steele's direction. The bullet ricocheted off the concrete not five feet from where Steele was crouched.

"You're a fool if you think you can get away with this, Descoine!" he yelled. Meanwhile, Steele could hear footsteps coming up the outside of the portal. If he could just stall Descoine a few moments...

"You've got me; let my daughter go! When I know she's safe, I'll gladly turn myself over to you."

"You give yourself too much credit, Steele!" He fired again, this time even closer. "She'll die anyway..." He glanced at his watch. "...in less than an hour!"

"That's what you think!" Katie announced loudly.

Steele turned and saw his daughter, his wife, and the Sullivan twins in the portal. "Get back!" he warned them. Then he saw that they, too, were trying to stall Descoine. The policemen were in the portals on either side of this one, taking aim at Descoine.

"Give yourself up, Major!" Steele shouted after he was sure the police had had enough time to aim. "They have you covered!"

"That one's even older than we are, my friend!" He took aim at Steele again and fired, but a double shot rang out. Descoine's rifle fell from his hands as he clutched his chest.

Steele stood up and ran toward Descoine, taking the steps two and even three at a time. It was only a matter of seconds before he was there.

"You deranged bastard!" Steele shouted as he took Descoine by the collar. He began to shake the man violently, but the police restrained him.

"Mr. Steele, we'll deal with this now."

"Like hell you will. This man's been after me and my wife for almost twenty years!"

"It has been fun, hasn't it?" Descoine laughed weakly. The blood had already stained much of his shirt and was beginning to get to the jacket. He coughed violently.

"Call an ambulance," the policeman holding Steele back called to the other. By then, Laura, Kate and the twins were on the scene.

"Well," Descoine sputtered. "It looks like the game's finally over." He broke into another coughing fit. "...and you won." He died, Steele still holding him by the collar.

Saturday, 11:30 AM.

"Thanks for letting me go back for another interview, Dad. Does this mean you trust me a little more now?"

"You handled yourself very well, young lady, I'll admit that. That was very quick thinking, that bit about 'tell Brian I'm all right.'" He hugged his daughter.

"Well?"

"Yes, I'm proud of you. I always have been and I always will be."