Ok, so I'm going to start off by saying that the title has
nothing to do with Daniel's preferred name for Steele. The Harry being
referred to in this case would be one Harry Macy-and this would happen
to be one crossover fic between Steele and Crossing Jordan. And I'd
like to state here and now, that I don't own anything except the idea
that perhaps one con man might call upon another con man who might
just happen to be a friend of his in a bit of a pinch.
I'm also going to say, don't expect another part until the end of the
week, computer time is going to be limited until at least saturday,
possibly not until monday. But enough with the notes, onto the first
part of the fic!
He was jostled out of his reverie counting the ceiling tiles
sharp rap on the door and the appearance of one blonde head. "Mr.
Steele, there's a phone call for you, a man named Sam Bisbee?" Steele
paused for a moment as he wracked his brain to place the name, and
when he finally did, he smiled.
"I'll take it in here Mildred, thanks." He said,
leaning forward and
picking up the phone the instant the red light flicked on. "Now
there's a name I haven't heard in a while. So's Your Old Man-W.C.
"Is there any movie you haven't seen?" The man on
the phone asked,
cutting him off.
"Anything that doesn't exhibit a certain cinematic art."
"So how are you boy? Remington Steele is it now? Even
have your own
secretary. Moved up in the world. Now you're chasing down your own
"I try to avoid chasing down my own pals. So why call
me after all
this time? Last I heard you were in jail for-what was it?"
"A few bad checks." The man on the other end of the
line pause for a
minute. "Listen," he continued as he tried to come up with a way to
word his request. "I'm kinda in a rough spot and need your help."
"Harry, I'm legitimate now. I have a business to run,
I'm not going to
risk all of that."
"No, no no, that's EXACTLY why I'm calling you, because
something resembling a profession that would scare this guy shitless."
Steele rolled his eyes.
"So you want me to go to wherever you are-where are you,
by the way?"
"Boston." Was the man's almost silent reply.
"Boston! That's all the way across the bloody country!"
"I know, I know, but I really need your help. I'm almost
broke, and I
wanted to retire, once and for all. Collect my money from him, pay off
the little bit that I do owe, and spend the last few years of my life
in peace. I'm not getting any younger you know."
"How much does this guy owe you?"
"You're doing this over less than three hundred bucks?
You can make
that playing monty in an hour."
"Did I mention the grand after it?" Steele almost feel out of his chair.
"A quarter of a million? What did you bet on?"
"Five grand on a 50-1 horse." The way he said it
was so nonchalant
that Steele almost couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Five grand on a fifty to one? What the hell possessed you to do that?"
"Because I had the money and I had to spend it, so I put
it down on a
gut instinct, and won it. But now I could really use that money."
"So you want me to fly out there to tell that bookie to pay up?"
"Exactly what I want you to do. You'd do it for an old friend, won't you?"
"You're asking an awful lot of me mate."
"I could do it myself, but that's asking an awful lot
of an eighty
year old man." Steele thought for a minute.
"Fine. But ONLY as a favor to a friend. In and out. I'm
not going to
get myself involved in anything more than just being someone that you
bring in to put pressure on this guy."
"In and out." The second man echoed. "I get
my money, I'll even give
you a cut, and you go back to Boston, the only one who looses is
"The bookie who I owe the money to."
"Right. I'll catch the first flight I can."
"Thanks." Steele hung up the phone with a dull thud
as he realized
what he got himself into. He walked out of the office and into the
lobby of suite 1157.
"Mildred dear, could you find me the next flight out to Boston?"
"Sure thing boss." The stout blonde secretary-cum-detective
making clicked a few times on her computer and revealed a flight out
in just over an hour. Two keystrokes later and there was a ticket
waiting for Steele to pick up when he got to the airport. "Should I
tell Miss Holt?"
Steele thought for a long minute before recalling the fiasco
about the last time he went off without a trace. "Simply tell her that
I'm visiting an old friend, and that I'll be back by the end of the
week." With that, he was out the door, ready to pack a small overnight
bag to last him for the two days that he expected to be in Boston.