Thursday, November 6, 2008

License to Steele – Remington Steele Transcript 1.1

Laura Holt and Remington Steele in golf cartA helicopter makes a landing. A chauffeured car’s window opens revealing a woman in a Fedora hat. She sits beside a curly haired man and they both watch as a security officer carries a locked box to an armored car, while other security offers follow him closely.

The chauffeured car with a license plate that reads RSTEELE follows the armored car. Immediately after they leave, a white laundry van arrives. The driver gets off the van and takes out a laundry cart.

Outside a hotel, a handsome man takes a picture of mother and her children.   Continue reading...

Man: Just in a little bit. That’s it. Fine.

The man takes the picture of the arriving armored car.

Man: Wonderful. Just hold it right there. Look at your mother. Look at your mother. That’s fine.

The man takes a picture of the chauffeured car that followed the armored car.

Man: That’s it. Okay, okay.

He then takes a photo of the security officers unloading the locked box as the woman in the Fedora hat and the curly haired man watch. He also takes a picture of the laundry van driver as he takes out the laundry cart.

The man approaches the mother and her children

Man: Thank you. You make a most enchanting family.
Mother: Ooh, for another 50, you can keep the kids.
Man: Haha! I’m afraid my suitcase isn’t big enough. Bye.

Up in a building, a goon with a mustache watches the man who was taking pictures through his binoculars, his partner arrives and they both watch the man make his way to his car.

Goon #1: Didn’t take him long to pick up the scent.
Goon #2: Only this time, we saw him…before he saw us.

Inside an office, the woman with the Fedora hat watches the security officer unlock the box. The security officer opens the box to reveal two blocks of bricks.

Mr. Hunter: I must say, Miss Holt, I am less than impressed. This is not why I retained the Remington Steele Detective Agency.
Ms. Holt: Thank you, gentlemen.

Miss Holt signals the security officers to leave the office.

Mr. Hunter: I could have arranged this method of transportation myself. It does not take a security genius to hire an armed car service.
Ms. Holt: Mr. Hunter, this is only—
Mr. Hunter: I’ve got 2.6 million dollars worth of gems arriving tomorrow. Anybody wants to take a shot at ‘em, all they got to do is blow that tin can apart and run like hell.
Ms Holt: If they do, they’ll come up empty. The art of security is a lot like a magic act, Mr. Hunter. It’s built on deception. While everybody’s looking here, the gems will be over here. So if anybody wants that box, they’re welcome to it….

Miss Holt opens a safe.

Ms. Holt: Because…

Miss Holt takes out a box larger than the ones they escorted earlier..

Ms. Holt: This is the one that counts.

The laundry van’s driver enters the office.

Ms. Holt: Murphy will go through the service entrance with the gems neatly tucked away in a linen cart.

Mr. Hunter laughs.

Mr. Hunter: Now, I’m impressed.
Ms. Holt: Mr. Steele will be pleased to hear that.
Mr. Hunter: I’ll tell him myself tomorrow.
Ms. Holt: I’m afraid that’s impossible. He isn’t Los Angeles at the moment.
Mr. Hunter: What, you mean he’s not gonna supervise this operation personally?
Ms. Holt: Oh, we explained that Mr. Steele never involves himself directly in a case. He functions best in an advisory capacity.
Mr. Hunter: Insurance only covers half the value of those gems. Your magic act turns sour, I’m on the hook for a million three. You wanna hear a little secret? I don’t got a million three. So, I want Steele in the trenches, or I’m going somewhere else.
Murphy: We’re sorry you feel that way, sir. We’ll, uh, submit a bill for services to date.
Ms. Holt: Uh, Mr. Steele will be calling in around five. I’ll discuss the situation with him, see how he wants to proceed.
Mr. Hunter: I’ll expect an answer by six.

Miss Holt arrives at the Remington Steele Investigations office.

Miss Holt: He in?
Bernice: Waiting for you.

Miss Holt enters her office.

Miss Holt: Let’s get started.

Miss Holt knocks on Murphy’s door.

Murphy: It’s five after five. Have you heard from Mr. Steele yet?
Ms. Holt: We all know the problem. Let’s talk solution.
Murphy: Simple. Say good-bye to Mr. Hunter.
Ms. Holt: Isn’t that a little precipitous?
Murphy: Laura, we made a rule. If a client insists on dealing directly with Remington Steele, we pass.
Ms. Holt: Gordon Hunter is creating a media event -- television, newspapers, People magazine, for God’s sake. Whoever provides security for the gems gets kissed by the same spotlight. The publicity is worth its weight in clients.
Bernice: And you want Remington Steele to personally supervise security?
Ms. Holt: That’s right.
Bernice: Can I ask a dumb question? How is Remington Steele going to do that when he doesn’t exist?
Ms. Holt: We don’t have to produce a real, live Remington Steele. Hunter just wants to know he’s there. The trick is to keep our nonexistent Mr. Steele involved, yet inaccessible. Wherever Hunter is, he’ll always be somewhere else. By the time Hunter realizes he hasn’t met or even seen “Remington Steele” we’ll have done our job.
Murphy: I think we’re courting disaster.
Ms. Holt: Touch on the overhead.
Bernice: It’s killing us. These offices, the rental on the furniture not to mention the limousine and chauffeur.
Ms. Holt: The reason I invented Remington Steele in the first place was to attract clients like Hunter. I’m telling you—all we have to do is manufacture his presence for a few hours and we can permanently dispense with the red ink.

A man enters the office.

Man: Hello?

There’s a knock on the door.

Man: Anyone about?

The man who was taking photos earlier enters. He walks over to shake Murphy’s hand.

Man: Mr. Steele?
Ms. Holt: I’m sorry. Mr. Steele’s out of town.
Murphy: I’m his associate, Murphy Michaels.
Man: Have we met before?
Murphy: I don’t think so.
Man: Odd. You look vaguely familiar.
Murphy: I’ve got that kind of face.
Man: So you do.

Miss Holt offers her hand.

Ms. Holt: Laura Holt.

Bernice walks over to the man.

Bernice: Bernice Foxe.

The man shakes Bernice’s hand.

Man: Quite a busy office with so many secretaries.
Laura Holt: I’m a licensed private investigator, Mr.—
Man: Pearson. Ben Pearson.

The man shows them his identification.

Ms. Holt: Special agent?
Ben Pearson: For want of a better title. I represent the South African government. Sorry to barge in unannounced, but I thought it best not to make a formal appointment.
Bernice: Would you like some coffee? I’ll make a fresh pot. Uh, or tea, perhaps? I’ll make some fresh water.
Ben Pearson: I’m here on a rather delicate mission, and I need your assistance. Those gems you’re guarding.
Murphy: What about them?
Ben Pearson: They’re stolen. They were smuggled out of South Africa, quite illegally, and eventually sold to a private museum in Rome. From there, they were lent to museums in Paris and London. Now, they’re here on some sort of promotional tour in the States. Naturally, my government wants them returned.
Ms. Holt: That’s a legal matter. Why come to us?
Ben Pearson: Ownership is currently tied up in litigation. But if the gems should be stolen now, it won’t matter who they legally belong to.
Ms. Holt: You think there’ll be an attempt?
Ben Pearson: They are the rarest gems in the world, Royal Lavulite. More precious than diamonds because there are so few of them. The only known deposits reside in my country. Yes, Miss Holt, I think there will be an attempt. That’s why I’ll need to be fully apprised of your security measures.
Murphy: You don’t mind if we check you out first?
Ben Pearson: Not at all. Quite frankly I would be rather disappointed if you didn’t. It would demonstrate a certain laxity on your behalf, which would not be very reassuring to my government.
Ms. Holt: Then we’ll see you again, Mr. Pearson.
Ben Pearson: Count on it, Miss Holt.

Ben Pearson makes his way to the door. Bernice arrives with tea and coffee.

Ben Pearson: Delightful aroma.

Ben Pearson leaves. Bernice looks at Laura Holt who has a big grin on her face. Murphy picks up the phone.

Murphy: Anybody know what time it is in South Africa?

Ben Pearson arrives at his hotel. He opens the door to his hotel room, and hurriedly closes it as a knife protrudes out the door. He opens the door once again and attacks the man with the knife while the mustached goon watches. Soon, the mustached goon attacks Ben Pearson. He pulls him up with his tie and throws him down the floor.

Goon #1: Who are you?
Ben Pearson: Just a happy-go-lucky tourist out to see a bit of the world.
Goon #2: Is that why you’ve got five passports from five different countries in five different names?

The younger goon throws the passports at Ben Pearson.

Ben Pearson: I keep trying for a good picture.
Goon #1: Those gems belong to us.
Ben Pearson: I was under the impression that they belonged to the South African government.
Goon #1: We have a proprietary claim. After all, the courier who smuggled them out of the country initially worked for us.
Ben Pearson: Only he got greedy and sold them on his own.
Goon #1: He’s been properly chastised for his indiscretion.
Ben Pearson: May I get up now, or do you prefer me in the groveling position?

The goon lends his hand, and Ben Pearson stands up.

Goon #1: Each time we try to reclaim those stones, you get in our way. First Paris, then London. Here you are again.
Ben Pearson: Perhaps we have the same travel agent. I’m hungry.
Goon #2: Let’s kill him and get somethin’ to eat.
Ben Pearson: That won’t satisfy anything but your appetite.

The younger goon presses his knife on Ben Pearson’s back. Ben Pearson grunts.

Ben Pearson: I’ll admit we’ve been at cross-purposes up till now, but I think it’s time we joined forces.
Goon #1: Why?
Ben Pearson: It certainly beats the alternative.

The older goon makes his way to the door. The younger one follows him.

Goon #2: Keep in touch.

The younger goon points his knife at Ben Pearson right before walking out the door.

Laura Holt arrives at the hotel’s ballroom to meet Mr. Hunter.

Ms. Holt: Mr. Hunter.
Mr. Hunter: You’re late.
Ms. Holt: You can afford to be when you bring good news.
Mr. Hunter: He’ll be here.
Ms. Holt: Mr. Steele feels your situation warrants his closest attention. He’ll be arriving late tonight.

Mr. Hunter chuckles.

Mr. Hunter: Well, what do you think?

Mr. Hunter shows Laura around the ballroom where the event will take place..

Ms. Holt: It seems very adventurous – building an automobile – the way the industry is these days.
Mr. Hunter: You ever have a dream, Miss Holt? A desire to se your talents recognized, your efforts applauded?
Ms. Holt: Yes.
Mr. Hunter: Ever since I started on the assembly line welding door panels I dreamed of having my name on the finest automobile ever built. I went to engineering school at night. I event took speech lessons so people would listen to what I had to say instead of how I said it. Averaged three hours of sleep a night for six years until I was running a division of my own. I’ve mortgaged everything but my vital parts to get this beauty launched. This may be just another job to you, but it’s my life.
Ms. Holt: I assure you, Mr. Hunter. In my own way, I am also risking everything I have.
Mr. Hunter: Good. I never like doing business with someone who doesn’t have as much to lose as I do.

Ben Pearson is in a dark room developing the photographs he took. He looks at the photo and recognizes the laundry van driver as Murphy.

Ben Pearson: Mm-hmm. Dr. Livingtone, I presume.

Laura Holt is at the hotel’s restaurant waiting. A waiter brings her a bottle of champagne.

Ms. Holt: I didn’t order this.
Waiter: Oh, the gentleman wishes to buy you a drink.

The waiter points at Ben Pearson who is sitting a couple of tables away.

Ms. Holt: Tell the gentleman I appreciate the gesture, but I’m waiting for someone—

The waiter pops the cork. Ben Pearson makes his way to Laura Holt’s table.

Ms. Holt: A magnum of campagne?
Ben Pearson: You looked thirsty.
Ms. Holt: Do you always do things on such a grand scale, Mr. Pearson?
Ben Pearson: Only when I’m aroused…with curiosity. May I?

Ben Pearson takes a seat.

Ben Pearson: Tell me, Miss Holt. How did you become a dick?
Ms. Holt: I beg your pardon?
Ben Pearson: Isn’t that what you Americans call a private detective?
Ms. Holt: Only in movies. I always loved excitement. So, I studied and apprenticed and eventually joined a large detective agency.
Ben Pearson: And did it fulfill your fantasies?
Ms. Holt: The recognition was nil. It seemed no matter how successfully my efforts were the lion’s share of the credit always went to my male counterparts regardless of their contribution.
Ben Pearson: Tawdry thing, this male chauvinism.
Ms. Holt: You exhibited a little of it yourself.
Ben Pearson: Oh? How so?
Ms. Holt: When you instantly assumed I was a secretary.
Ben Pearson: You must admit your occupation is highly unusual for a woman especially one of such obvious breeding and intelligence.
Ms. Holt: You carry the same prejudice most people do. Because of my sex, you think I’m not built for the job.
Ben Pearson: Mmm. It is a rather rough-and-tumble trade. At least the way it’s portrayed in your cinema. All those blazing guns and smashing fists.
Ms. Holt: Believe me, it requires more brain the brawn.
Ben Pearson: I take it sex isn’t a problem for Remington Steele. Yours that is.
Ms. Holt: On the contrary, he’s the most generous, understanding, supportive man I could imagine.
Ben Pearson: He seems to have rather large shoes to fill.
Ms. Holt: Few would be foolish enough to try.
Ben Pearson: Unless, of course, one enjoyed impossible challenges. Will he be involved tomorrow?
Ms. Holt: Mr. Steele’s presence will be felt rather than seen.
Ben Pearson: And his associate?
Ms. Holt: Murphy Michaels.
Ben Pearson: I certainly hope he’s involved in the thick of things. Seems an awfully competent chap.
Ms. Holt: Oh, he’ll play a vital role.
Ben Pearson: Tomorrow, then.

Ben Pearson and Ms. Holt toast.

Ben Pearson: May everything go as smoothly as I hope.
Ms. Holt: Excuse me.

Ms. Holt stands up. Ben Pearson gets off his seat.

Ms. Holt: Thanks for the champagne…and the curiosity.

Ms. Holt rushes to the hotel lobby where Murphy Michaels is looking after Remington Steele’s luggage.

Ms. Holt: Murphy! I reserved the penthouse suite in Remington Steele’s name. Take the bags up, arrange the clothes and hang out the “Do Not Disturb” sign.
Murphy: I hate this, Laura. I really hate this.
Ms. Holt: It’s working, Murphy. Don’t fight it. Don’t fight it.

Ms. Holt leaves.
Ben Pearson is at the bar with the two goons.

Goon #1: Very clever, getting intime with Steele’s associate.
Ben Pearson: Simply sowing seeds, gentlemen.
Goon #1: And when can we expect the harvest?
Ben Pearson: Tonight. She’s going to show me the route the gems will take.
Goon #2: Naturally, you’re gonna share that little tidbit with your new associates.
Ben Pearson: I want you to follow us. Of course, if you’re not interested, gentlemen, I’ll make the trip alone.

Ben Pearson stands up, and the goons immediately do the same.

Ben Pearson: Excuse me.

Laura Holt makes her way out of the hotel. Ben Pearson follows her, while the goons follow him.

Ben Pearson: Take my car. Blue Mercedes.

Ben Pearson hands the keys to the mustached goon, but the man points him to the younger goon. The younger one takes the keys.

Ben Pearson: And, for God’s sake, don’t lose us.

Ben Pearson makes his way to Laura Holt.

Ben Pearson: Miss Holt! I wonder if I might impose on you for a lift, Miss Holt?
Ms. Holt: Certainly.

Laura Holt and Ben Pearson hops inside the Remington Steele chauffeured car, while the goons scram to Ben Pearson’s blue Mercedes.

Ben Pearson: Plush.
Ms. Holt: Mr. Steele graciously allows me to use it whenever he’s away.
Ben Pearson: Your Mr. Steele sounds too good to be true.
Ms. Holt: Where can I drop you?
Ben Pearson: Wherever there’s an abundance of police cars.
Ms. Holt: Are you in some kind of trouble?
Ben Pearson: Depends on how quickly we can locate one.

Laura Holt talks to the chauffeur.

Ms. Holt: Cut across to Sunset.
Ben Pearson: Do you pack a rod, Miss Holt?

Laura Holt laughs.

Ms. Holt: You’ve seen too many movies, Mr. Pearson. No, I don’t pack a rod. I’ve never found the need for one.
Ben Pearson: Pity.
Ms. Holt: Why?
Ben Pearson: The courier who smuggled those gems out of South Africa—
Ms. Holt: What about him?
Ben Pearson: He was brutally murdered by the two gentlemen behind us in the blue Mercedes.

Ben Pearson casually points at the car following them. Ms. Holt looks at the car behind them.

Ben Pearson: May I use your phone? It’s a local call.

Ben Pearson dials.

Ben Pearson: Mobile operator? This is T-7328.

Laura Holt sinks in her seat.

Ben Pearson: I’d like the police.

Laura Holt exhales heavily.

Ben Pearson: Yes, it’s definitely an emergency.
Ms. Holt: Why are they following us?
Ben Pearson: Police? I’d like to report a stolen vehicle. Blue Mercedes 380 SL. License number—

Ben Pearson looks at the car behind them.

Ben Pearson: 1 DRO373. Well, the last time I saw it, it was traveling—

Ben Pearson turns to Laura Holt.

Ms. Holt: East on Sunset, just past Doheny.
Ben Pearson: East on Sunset, just past Doheny. Please hurry I had some medicine in the backseat for my grandmother. If she doesn’t receive it—bless you.

Ben Pearson hangs up the phone as Laura Holt stares at him.

Ben Pearson: Everyone needs a little added incentive now and then.

Laura Holt sighs.

Ben Pearson: In light of this disturbing development, I suggest we change strategy.
Ms. Holt: In what way?
Ben Pearson: Use a decoy. Then slip the gems in when no one’s looking.
Ms. Holt: You’re very good at this sort of thing, Mr. Pearson.
Ben Pearson: Have I read your mind, Miss Holt?
Ms. Holt: Let’s just say it’s been considered.

A siren wails at the background.

Ben Pearson: So are you.
Ms. Holt: What?
Ben Pearson: Very good at this sort of thing.

A police car stops the blue Mercedes. Ben Pearson watches, and laughs.

Ben Pearson: Rather reaffirms one’s faith in the local constabulary.

The morning after, Laura Holt arrives at the Remington Steele Investigations office.

Bernice: Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?
Ms. Holt: I had the most incredible evening.

Laura Holt makes her way to Remington Steele’s office.

Bernice: Yeah? With who?
Ms. Holt: Him.
Bernice: I wanna hear all the gory details.
Ms. Holt: Well, first he bought me a bottle of champagne.
Murphy: Who bought you champagne?
Ms. Holt: Actually, it was a magnum.
Murphy: Hey, I thought you didn’t like champagne.
Ms. Holt: What happened after the champagne?

Laura Holt takes a stepladder.

Ms. Holt: We went for a drive, and that’s when things got really hairy.
Murphy: Who went for a drive?!
Bernice: Laura and Special Agent Ben Pearson.

Laura Holt places the stepladder in front of a cabinet, steps on it and takes something on top of the cabinet.

Murphy: You went joyriding with a guy who could be an international jewel thief or, for all we know, a mass murderer? That’s not like you, Laura.

Laura Holt takes out a box then turns to Murphy..

Ms. Holt: Didn’t he check out?
Murphy: Yeah, he checked out.

Laura Holt steps down the ladder.

Murphy: I talked to his supervisor this morning. The only bump is Pearson wasn’t supposed to arrive until today. So, just to be sure, I requested a wire photo.

Laura Holt opens the box and unpacks a gun. She turns to Bernice.

Ms. Holt: Where are the bullets?
Murphy: What are you doing?
Ms. Holt: This isn’t going to be the piece of cake we thought it would be. The men who originally stole those gems are brutal murderers.

Bernice Foxe hands Laura Holt the bullets.

Ms. Holt: They followed us last night. Even though Ben took care of them brilliantly—

Laura Holt loads the gun.

Murphy: Ben?
Ms. Holt: I’d feel better if you packed a rod.

Laura Holt hands over the gun to Murphy.

Murphy: A rod?

Laura Holt takes her bag..

Ms. Holt: Page Remington Steele in exactly 27 minutes just to keep his presence alive. I’ll tell Hunter that Mr. Steele already left for the airport.

Laura Holt makes her way out the door.

Bernice: Good luck.
Murphy: Sounds like he got a lot for his lousy bottle of champagne!
Bernice: It was a magnum.

Ben Pearson arrives at the hotel, and is accosted by the two goons.

Ben Pearson: What a relief gentlemen. I thought you won’t get here in time.
Goon #1: Wonderful thing about Los Angeles. It has 24-hour bail bond service.
Goon #2: I told you. We should’ve killed him straight away.
Ben Pearson: It’s very difficult to maintain a relationship built solely on mistrust, gentlemen.

A hotel clerk calls for Remginton Steele.

Hotel Clerk: Remington Steele.

The mustached goon presses his gun on Ben Pearson’s back.

Goon #1: To the elevator, dear boy.
Hotel Clerk: Remington Steele. Telephone call for Remington Steele.
Ben Pearson: Miss?
Hotel Clerk: Mr. Steele?
Ben Pearson: You found me.
Hotel Clerk: This way, Mr. Steele.

Ben Pearson now posing as Mr. Steele follows the hotel clerk.

Hotel Clerk: There you are, sir.
Ben Pearson: Mm-hmm. Thank you.

Ben Pearson walks over to the courtesy phone and picks up the phone.

Mr. Steel: H—

The mustached goon presses his gun at Remington Steele’s back.

Mr. Steele: Steele here.
Bernice: Who? Where?
Mr. Steele: Can’t talk now, Miss…Wolfe?
Bernice: Foxe.
Mr. Steele: I knew it was some sort of primitive creature. Sorry, but I’ve literally got to run.

Mr. Steele hangs up the phone, and Mr. Hunter arrives followed by security officers.

Mr. Hunter: Mr. Steele!

Mr. Hunter shakes the Remington Steele impostor’s hand.

Mr. Hunter: I certainly feel safer with you here.
Mr. Steele: My sentiments precisely.
Mr. Hunter: Come with me. There’s someone I want you to meet in the security office.

Remington Steele walks with Mr. Hunter.

Mr. Steele: Security office?

The mustached goon slams his Fedora on the counter out of anger and frustration.

Mr. Steele: Sounds very secure.
Mr. Hunter: You know, somehow I thought you’d be older.
Mr. Steele: Oh! I can age on demand.

Laura Holt arrives at the hotel.
Mr. Hunter brings Remington Steele to the security office.

Mr. Hunter: Remington Steele, may I present Special Agent Ben Pearson of South Africa.
Ben Pearson: Mr. Steele. A pleasure, sir.

The real Ben Pearson shakes the hand of the impostor Remington Steele.

Ben Pearson: I’ve heard a great deal about you.
Mr. Steele: And your name has preceded you, Mr. Pearson.
Mr. Hunter: Mr. Pearson’s here to assist you in protecting the gems.
Mr. Steele: Ah! That’s a piece of good fortune I hadn’t anticipated.
Ben Pearson: I assume you’re aware of Raymond Kessler and Leo Neff?
Mr. Steele: The gentlemen who murdered the courier. Yes, they’ve made an indelible impression.
Ben Pearson: Well, at least they’re a known quantity. But I am afraid there is a bit of a hiccup in all this.
Mr. Steele: Oh?
Ben Pearson: Yes. It seems that someone’s going around impersonating me.
Mr. Steele: Cheeky blighter.
Ben Pearson: He did it in Paris, and then again in London.
Mr. Steele: You wouldn’t by any chance have a description of this impostor?
Ben Pearson: My build. General coloring.
Mr. Steele: Could be anyone. Hmph. Including me.

Remington Steele chuckles.

Ben Pearson: Mr. Steele, how can I be of service?
Mr. Steele: You could detain Messrs. Kessler and Neff. I believe they’re in the hotel now.
Ben Pearson: Would that help you accomplish your objectives?
Mr. Steele: That would go a long way.
Ben Pearson: Done.
Mr. Hunter: Then could we get on with it.

Laura Holt is anxiously waiting at the hotel lobby.

Mr. Hunter: Miss Holt.
Ms. Holt: I just spoke with Mr. Steele.
Mr. Hunter: So did I.
Ms. Holt: He’s already left for the—
Mr. Hunter: He just arrived.
Ms. Holt: Mr. Steele just arrived?
Mr. Hunter: Yes. There he is with Special Agent Ben Pearson.

Mr. Hunter points to Ben Pearson and Remington Steele.
Remington Steele notices that Mr. Hunter had informed Laura Holt of his presence.

Mr. Steele: Hmm.
Ben Pearson: Something wrong, old chap?
Mr. Steele: Uh, stomach’s a bit queasy.
Ben Pearson: Wouldn’t doubt it. I’d be a little gaseous myself protecting over two million in rare gems. But not to worry. Just remember, I’ll be watching you every step of the way.

Ben Pearson leaves. Laura Holt with Mr. Hunter approaches Remington Steele’s impostor. All are silent.

Mr. Hunter: Y-You have less than 20 minutes to get to the airport.
Ms. Holt: Yes. Shall we?
Mr. Steele: Oh, why not?

Mr. Hunter leads the way. Remington Steele and Laura Holt slowly follow him. Laura Holt stops Remington Steele.

Ms. Holt: That man that was with you—
Mr. Steele: Yes?
Ms. Holt: He isn’t Remington Steele.
Mr. Steele: He isn’t?
Ms. Holt: He’s an impostor.
Mr. Steele: He is?
Ms. Holt: But don’t say anything.
Mr. Steele: Oh! You can count on me.

Remington Steele and Laura Holt make their way to the car with Mr. Hunter.

Mr. Steele: Why don’t you pop on ahead, Miss Holt? And I’ll stay behind to reconnoiter the area in the case there are problems.
Mr. Hunter: Nonsense. I want you both at the airport.
Mr. Steele: Of course.

Laura Holt and Remington Steele board the chauffeured car.

Ms. Holt: What did he say?
Mr. Steele: He wants us both at the airport.
Ms. Holt: No, I mean, that phony Steele.
Mr. Steele: Oh. Not much actually. We were merely introduced.
Ms. Holt: He’s obviously after those gems.
Mr. Steele: Why didn’t Gordon Hunter blow the whistle on him?
Ms. Holt: Well, he’s never actually met Mr. Steele. You see, Mr. Steele was out of town when we accepted this assignment.
Mr. Steele: But surely our charlatan realizes he’ll be exposed once the real Steele comes upon the scene. When do you expect him?
Ms. Holt: That’s difficult to pinpoint.
Mr. Steele: But you did say he’d be involved in this undertaking.
Ms. Holt: Yes, yes. Extremely involved.
Mr. Steele: But unseen.
Ms. Holt: This is awfully tricky, Mr. Pearson.
Mr. Steele: So it appears. No pun intended.
Ms. Holt: You mustn’t tell Hunter. It would only undermine his confidence in the entire operation.
Mr. Steele: How long do you think we can keep this charade going?
Ms. Holt: Just until the gems are delivered safely.
Mr. Steele: And then you’ll nail this ersatz Remington Steele?
Ms. Holt: To the wall, Mr. Pearson. To the very wall.
Mr. Steele: Graphically put.
Ms. Holt: Can I count on your cooperation?
Mr. Steele: Oh! Believe me, mum’s the operative word here.
Ms. Holt: Thank you. Thank you so much. You’re the only one that I can turn to.

Remington Steele puts his arm around Laura Holt.

Mr. Steele: Oh, there, there, Miss Holt. As long as you trust me, there’s nothing left to worry about.

Remington Steele and Laura Holt return to the hotel. They watch as security officers take out a locked box from the armored car. At the corner of the hotel, Murphy Michaels’ disguised as a laundry driver takes out a linen court from the van. Murphy nods at Laura Holt and she does the same in reply. Laura makes her way inside the hotel, while Remington Steele watches Murphy Michaels.

Ms. Holt: Mr. Pearson?
Mr. Steele: Yes? Of course.

Laura Holt and Remington Steele enter the hotel. Laura knocks on the security office’s door, while Remington Steele stays at the lobby. Laura signals ok to him, and he waves back.

Mr. Hunter: Mr. Steele.

Mr. Hunter chuckles.

Mr. Hunter: Everything went without a hitch.
Mr. Steele: Yes. Cracking good job, wasn’t it?
Mr. Hunter: You know, Steele, I must admit. I was somewhat skeptical. Your Miss Holt certainly protects you.

Mr. Hunter and Remington Steele make their way to the elevator.

Mr. Steele: Well, that’s part of her function.
Mr. Hunter: But this was bordering on the ridiculous. I mean, I couldn’t see you talk to you, not even on the telephone. You were always unavailable or out of town. I was beginning to think you didn’t exist.

Remington Steele laughs. The two board the elevator. Remington Steele tries to find the right floor. Mr. Hunter presses the penthouse.

Mr. Hunter: What is this fetish you have for secrecy?
Mr. Steele: Anonymity is an asset in my profession.
Mr. Hunter: Yes, but I mean, no photographs, no interviews, never involving yourself directly in a case. It wasn’t only mine. I spoke with several people who’ve dealt with your agency, and it was the same story. Plenty of Miss Holt, none of you.
Mr. Steele: Well, now you have a great deal of me. Who knows? When this is over, you may rue the day you ever met me.

The elevator door opens, and Remington Steele lets Mr. Hunter lead the way.

Mr. Steele: Hmm. I seem to have left my key at the desk.

Mr. Hunter seeks the help of a cleaning lady.

Mr. Hunter: Would you let Mr. Steele into his room? He seems to have forgotten his keys.

The cleaning lady opens the door.

Mr. Hunter: Thank you. So, I’ll look for you tonight.
Mr. Steele: Tonight?
Mr. Hunter: Yes, for the formal unveiling of the Hunter Jetstar 6000. And, of course, the gems.
Mr. Steele: Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Mr. Hunter leaves, and the charlatan Remington Steele enters the suite. He opens a monogrammed leather bag to find nothing inside, but the bag’s catalog. He goes to the bedroom and opens drawers where it is filled with unused polo shirts. He opens the cabinet and finds it filled with unused clothes and shoes. He goes to the bathroom and notices that the hairbrush is also new and unused. He takes a perfume and sprays some on his wrist, and dabs his face. In front of the mirror, he looks at his own reflection.

Mr. Steele: Pleasure to meet you…Mr. Steele.

Later that night, Remington Steele escorts Laura Holt at the unveiling.

Ms. Holt: Any sign of him?
Mr. Steele: No.
Ms. Holt: Where do you suppose our impostor is?
Mr. Steele: I keep asking myself the same question.

People applaud. Laura Holt and Remington Steele take their seats.
Mr. Hunter speaks over the P.A.

Mr. Hunter: Ladies and gentlemen, could we take our seats, please?

Laura Holt and Remington Steele clap their hands.

Mr. Hunter: We’ve got an awful lot to accomplish this evening, not the least of which is he unveiling of the finest automobile ever engineered by man. But before we knock your socks off with the Hunter Jetstar 6000, I’d like to take a moment to thank the Remington Steele Detective Agency.

Laura Holt appears very pleased. She turns to Remington Steele.

Ms. Holt: Great endorsement.

The people applaud.

Mr. Hunter: Transporting and protecting the most precious gems in the world requires brilliant planning, daring execution, and plain old street savvy. So, without further ado, let me introduce to you—

Laura Holt looks both excited and a bit embarrassed, while Remington Steele’s impostor looks queasy.

Mr. Hunter: The person responsible for the safety of the Royal Lavulite.
Ms. Holt: Oh, this is so embarrassing. I wish he’d stop.
Mr. Steele: Wait.
Mr. Hunter: An absolutely astounding human being. Ladies and gentlemen…

Laura Holt prepares to stand.

Mr. Hunter: Remington Steele!

People applaud. Laura Holt is frozen to her seat. The charlatan turns to Remington Steele.

Mr. Steele: “Years from now, when you talk of this—and you will—be kind”.

Remington Steele stands up.

Mr. Steele: Deborah Kerr to John Kerr. Tea and Sympathy. MGM. 1956.

Laura Holt stares at the impostor loathingly. Remington Steele walks to the stage as the people continue to applaud.

Mr. Steele: Thank you. Thank you. You’re most generous with your applause. But it would be unworthy of Remington Steele if he didn’t single out his most able and most valued associate. Truly, the woman behind the man, Miss Laura Holt.

Remington Steele leads the applause.

Mr. Steele: Please, Miss Holt, stand up and take a well-deserved bow.

Laura Holt forces herself to stand, but not without giving the man who calls himself Remington Steele a deadly stare.

Mr. Steele: And now, you have far more interesting things to look at than me. So, please, Mr. Hunter, show us your creation.
Mr. Hunter: Thank you very much. Without any further pause, I’d like to introduce to you the Hunter Jetstar 6000.

The Hunter Jetstar 6000 is unveiled. People applaud. The impostor makes his way to his seat.

Ms. Holt: You!
Mr. Steele: I didn’t know he was gonna do that. My sincere apologies.
Ms. Holt: What are you going to do when Mr. Steele arrives?

Laura Holt slaps the charlatan’s arm with the back of her hand.

Mr. Steele: I’d like to meet the man whose shoes I’m attempting to fill. How am I doing so far?
Ms. Holt: Atrociously. You’re not a thing like Mr. Steele. He’s honest…

Laura Holt stands up, but the charlatan pulls her down back to her seat.

Ms. Holt: Dedicated, better looking, while you’re nothing but a treacherous liar!

Laura Holt hits him again.

Ms. Holt: A cheap crook! A cut-rate con man!

Laura Holt hits him again, now with her purse. She leaves, but the impostor follows her and forcer her to dance with him.

Ms. Holt: What are you doing? Let go of me! Whatever possessed you to think you could get away with this?

After some struggle, Laura Holt pants, and finds herself dancing with the impostor.

Mr. Steele: Impeccable man, your Mr. Steele. Do you know there’s not a piece of lint, a speck of dandruff, a hank of hair on any of his suits? And he obviously wars a shirt once and then discards it since there’s no laundry marks to be found. The same with the shoes. The soles seem never to have touched the ground. Not one single, solitary scuff mark.
Ms. Holt: Well, he’s fastidious, almost to a fault.
Mr. Steele: Bald too?
Ms. Holt: Of course not!
Mr. Steele: Then he’s blessed. I’m forever plucking stray hairs from my comb and brush. Positively demoralizing, but an inescapable part of the human condition. Hmph. Does any of this say anything to you, Miss Holt? It does to me. It fairly shouts “Remington Steele is an elaborate ruse.” He does not exist. You invented him.
Ms. Holt: What are you going to do with this absurd supposition?
Mr. Steele: Nothing. Believe me. Laura. I didn’t plan on assuming Remington Steele’s identity. I’m after something entirely different.
Ms. Holt: The gems.
Mr. Steele: Mm-mmm. The courier—the one who was murdered? He was my younger brother. I’m here to see that Kessler and Neff pay for his death.
Ms. Holt: I don’t know whether to believe you or not.
Mr. Steele: That’s understandable. But the moment they’re apprehended, I shall be gone…and your secret shall leave with me.

Murphy Michaels and Bernice Foxe arrive. Murphy Michaels signals to Laura Holt.

Ms. Holt: Excuse me.

Laura walks over to Murphy and Bernice.

Murphy: That guy’s a fake. I told you, Laura. I warned you about him.
Ms. Holt: I know. I know!
Murphy: This is the special agent from South Africa.

Murphy hands to Laura a picture.

Ms. Holt: What do we know about the courier who was murdered?
Bernice: Let’s see. His name is Otto Dettmer. He was bornin Johannsburg—
Ms. Holt: How old is he?
Bernice: Uh, 63 or 64, I think.

Laura points at Remington Steele’s impostor.

Ms. Holt: Keep an eye on him. Come on.

Laura pats Murphy’s arm and makes her way out of the ballroom.

Murphy: Wait. Wha—

The impostor Remington Steele answers to reporters.
Laura Holt and Murphy Michaels search the impostor’s room.

Ms. Holt: He certainly gets around.

Laura Holt finds the charlatan’s numerous passports.

Ms. Holt: “Douglas Quintain, England”. “Michael O’Leary, Ireland”. “Paul Fabrini, Italy”. “John Murrell, France”. “Richard Blaine, Australia”.
Murphy: Wait a minute. Run through those names again.

Murphy Michaels reads through a book.

Ms. Holt: Uh, Blaine, Murrell, Fabrini. Tsk. O’Leary, Quintain.

Murphy laughs.

Murphy: I don’t believe it.
Ms. Holt: I know. He doesn’t look like a Fabrini.
Murphy: No. Each of those names is from a character Humphrey Bogart played in the movies.

Laura Holt drops the passports.

Ms. Holt: Well, we know one thing.
Murphy: What?
Ms. Holt: He likes Humphrey Bogart.

Laura Holt checks the bathroom then opens the door of a closet. Ben Pearson’s dead body is hanging on a coat hanger. Laura screams, and runs towards Murphy.

Murphy: Well, now we know something else.
Ms. Holt: What?
Murphy: He’s a murderer.

Murphy Michaels reaches for the phone.

Ms. Holt: What are you doing?
Murphy: Calling the police.
Ms. Holt: No!
Murphy: Laura, the guy’s dangerous! Ask, uh, Ben Pearson just how dangerous.
Ms. Holt: I want the agency to bring him in. It’s the only way we can come out even on this fiasco. Besides, he’s made the whole thing very personal.

Murphy Michaels puts down the receiver.

Murphy: He’s not gonna stick around after this.
Ms. Holt: He wants those gems. He won’t leave until he’s taken a shot at them.
Murphy: Laura. I hope it’s only the agency you’re trying to protect.
Ms. Holt: It’s the only thing I’m interested in, Murphy.
Murphy: Okay.

Laura Holt returns to the emptied out ballroom, and finds Mr. Hunter sitting desolately.

Ms. Holt: Mr. Hunter?
Mr. Hunter: Welcome to the party. Pull up an empty promise and sit down.
Ms. Holt: There may be an attempt to steal the gems. Possibly tonight.
Mr. Hunter: The way my luck’s runnin’, it’ll succeed.
Ms. Holt: We know who the potential thief is. We’re doing everything we can to locate him.
Mr. Hunter: They ate my food, they drank my booze, but they didn’t buy my car.
Ms. Holt: I’m sorry.
Mr. Hunter: I completely retooled an abandoned tire factory in Toledo hired 800 people to turn out a car nobody wants. Let me tell you, Miss Holt. Dreams aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
Ms. Holt: No, Mr. Hunter.

Laura Holt takes the glass of wine from Mr. Hunter.

Ms. Holt: Sometimes, they aren’t.

Laura Holt drinks the rest of the wine, and hands the glass back to Mr. Hunter.
In Remington Steele’s hotel room, the impostor is busy looking at floor plans when the door handle rattles. The impostor quickly hides the floor plan under the bed. He walks over to the front door to find Laura Holt’s hands trying to unhook the door’s chain. He slaps her hand away. Laura gasps.

Mr. Steele: Miss Holt. What a welcome surprise.

Remington Steele’s impostor lets Laura Holt inside the hotel room.

Mr. Steele: How did you know where to find me?
Ms. Holt: Since you seem to have acquired a taste for masquerading as Remington Steele. It was a logical place to look.
Mr. Steele: Ah!

The charlatan kicks the floor plan under the bed in an attempt to keep it away from view.

Ms. Holt: Your brother, the courier—
Mr. Steele: Devastating loss.
Ms. Holt: He was 63 years old.
Mr. Steele: My older brother.

Murphy Michaels arrives.

Murphy: Laura, get it over with and turn him in.
Mr. Steele: No need for that. I’ll confess. I’ll admit your intuition was correct. I am here for the gems. But not for myself, for a modest commission I intend to return them to their rightful owner—the South African government.
Ms. Holt: By stealing them?
Mr. Steele: From the people who stole them.
Ms. Holt: I think that’s just a technicality. You’re a thief.
Mr. Steele: Kessler and Neff are thieves. I’m an artist.
Murphy: You’re a murderer. Ben Pearson—the real Ben Pearson—is hanging from a coat hook in your room.
Mr. Steele: Ah! Oh, those filthy—
Ms. Holt: Who?

The impostor sighs.

Mr. Steele: Kessler and his ape, Neff. He was killed with a knife, wasn’t he? Blade about six inches long? An incision in upward thrust just below the third vertebra?
Murphy: Hell of an accurate description for an innocent man.

The charlatan huffs.

Mr. Steele: I’ve been chasing those two animals halfway across Europe. Believe me, I’m familiar with their work. If you want them, you’ll have to move fast. They’ll go for the gems tonight.
Ms. Holt: What makes you so certain?
Mr. Steele: I would.
Murphy: Ah.
Ms. Holt: Do you still intend to?
Mr. Steele: The thought has crossed my mind.
Ms. Holt: Then I’d have to stop you.
Mr. Steele: If you could.
Ms. Holt: Easy. I’d call the police.
Mr. Steele: Why haven’t you already? Why aren’t they here now? Because you don’t believe I killed Ben Pearson.
Murphy: I do.
Mr. Steele: You don’t count. This is between Miss Holt and myself. Do you, Laura?
Ms. Holt: I don’t know.
Mr. Steele: Don’t waste time agonizing. Tell me. What would Remington Steele do in this situation?
Murphy: Call the police.
Mr. Steele: Then call them.

Murphy picks up the phone.

Murphy: Where are you going?
Mr. Steele: I’ve been avoiding those two gentlemen all evening. I think it’s time they found me. I hope you’re not squeamish, Murphy.
Murphy: Not around you.
Mr. Steele: Good. Then you won’t mind brining Pearson’s body up here.

The impostor walks out the door, while Murphy and Laura just stand and watch him leave. Murphy gets the phone and starts dialing.

The charlatan is now on the courtesy phone at the hotel lobby.

Mr. Steele: I tried his room. There’s no answer. Perhaps you could page him in the lobby. Thank you.

He puts down the phone, but does not hang up. He walks a couple of feet away from the phone.

Hotel Clerk: Remington Steele. Telephone call for Remington Steele. Remington Steele. Telephone call. Remington Steele.
Mr. Steel: Here.
Hotel Clerk: Remington Steele? This way, sir.

The hotel clerk leads Remington Steele to the courtesy phone.
The goons follow him.

Goon #1: Here you are, Mr. Steele.

Remington Steele picks up the phone.

Mr. Steele: Steele here.
Goon #2: We’ve been looking for you, Mr. Steele.
Mr. Steele: There’s no avoiding good friends, is there?
Goon #1: This time, we brought our own transportation.
Mr. Steele: I’d wager you’d have an easier time cracking that safe if you had the specifications.
Goon #!: Where would we get them?
Mr. Steele: From Remington Steele. After all, he’s the one that’s providing security for the gems. Shall we?

The impostor brings the goons to Remington Steele’s room.

Goon #1: Where are they?

He points them to a closet. The younger goon opens the closet, and finds Ben Pearson’s corpse hanging on the door.

Goon #2: Holy—We left him in his room!
Mr. Steele: So you did, gentlemen.

The police with Laura Holt and Murphy Michaels who have been hiding in the bedroom come out. The police arrest the goons. Remington Steele takes the knife from the younger goon.

Mr. Steele: I think your laboratory will find this to be the murder instrument.
Goon #1: Who are you?
Detective: Are you kidding? He’s Remington Steele.

The detective shakes Remington Steele’s hand.

Detective: You’re as good as they say you are.
Mr. Steele: The Remington Steele Agency is far more than one man, officer. On their behalf, I thank you.

Remington Steele turns to Laura Holt who smiles at him.
The police leave. Murphy Michaels turns to Laura.

Murphy: Will you be all right?

Remington Steele turns to Laura, and she nods to Murphy in agreement.
Murphy closes the door behind him and leaves.

Mr. Steele: Well?
Ms. Holt: Well?
Mr. Steele: I’m afraid it’s time to leave your lovely city.
Ms. Holt: Where will you go?
Mr. Steele: Wherever the gems travel next. San Francisco I believe. I give you my word, I won’t try to liberate the gems until they’re safely out of your jurisdiction.
Ms. Holt: All things considered. You made a delightful Remington Steele.
Mr. Steele: If the press of other commitments wasn’t so severe I might relish the role on a permanent basis.

Remington Steele kisses Laura Holt’s hand.

Mr. Steele: After all, I’m a man who enjoys impossible challenges.

Remington Steele returns the hotel room key to Laura. He leaves.
The following day, Remington Steele walks out of the hotel. He makes his way to a taxi. Laura Holt watches him board the cab. The taxicab leaves.
Murphy Michaels runs towards the Remington Steele agency’s chauffeured car where Laura Holt is.

Murphy: Laura! Somebody blindsided me.

Murphy Michaels still holding his neck boards the car.

Ms. Holt: He lied to me. That treacherous thief lied to me!

Remington Steele steps out of the cab that brought him to the airport.

Mr. Steele: Don’t—Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry.

Laura Holt and Murphy Michaels arrive at the airport.
Mr. Hunter is also there answering questions from reporters.

Mr. Hunter: I was very encouraged by last night’s showing—

Laura Holt sees Remington Steele.

Ms. Holt: Stop that man! He’s a thief!

Murphy Michaels comes running. Mr. Hunter sees him coming, and starts to run.
Murphy Michaels grabs Remington Steele then looks at Laura when it was Mr. Hunter who escapes. Murphy runs after Mr. Hunter. Laura grabs Remington Steele, but he just looks at her.

Ms. Holt: You mean, you didn’t steal the gems?
Mr. Steele: Laura, I gave you my word. But they’re fair game now.

Remington Steele starts running after Mr. Hunter.

Ms. Holt: Oh, no, they’re not!

Laura Holt chases Remington Steele. Mr. Hunter boards a golf cart. Murphy jumps at the back of the cart, and attempts to restrain the man, but a sharp turn causes him to fall off the cart. Remington Steele boards a golf cart, and Laura Holt jumps at the back. Laura tries to steer the wheel.

Ms. Holt: Hold—hold it steady.

Laura Holt wraps her arm around Remington Steele’s neck.

Mr. Steele: You’re choking me!

Laura Holt grabs the steering wheel.

Ms. Holt: Give me that! Give it to me!

They catch up with Mr. Hunter’s golf cart, and rear-ends his cart. Mr. Hunter is thrown off his vehicle straight to a dumpster.

Mr. Steele: I take it you wanted to drive.

The following day, Bernice Foxe is in an elevator reading the newspaper where the picture of Remington Steele and Laura Holt detaining Mr. Hunter is plastered on the front page. The headline reads “Steele Pure Gold”.

Bernice: “Remington Steele and unidentified woman—“

Bernice Foxe turns to Laura Holt.

Bernice: That’s you. “Rescue rare gems.”
Ms. Holt: Poor Mr. Hunter. He wasn’t a thief, just a man who saw his dream going down in a sea of red ink.

The elevator arrives at their floor. They alight the elevator.

Ms. Holt: He wanted to use the gems to finance production of his automobile.

Laura Holt and Bernice Foxe enter the office to find a client waiting.

Ms. Holt: Good morning.
Mr. Giddons: Lester Giddons. I have a 9 o’clock with Remington Steele?
Ms. Holt: Oh, I’m afraid Mr. Steele was called away on urgent business in San Francisco, but we can use his office.
Mr. Giddons: Oh.

Laura Holt points to Remington Steele’s office. Lester. Giddons makes his way to the office.
Laura turns to Bernice.

Ms. Holt: If, uh, anyone should call—
Bernice: He won’t.

Lester Giddons waits outside Remington Steele’s office. Laura Holt opens the door for him.

Mr. Giddons: Mr. Steele. I thought you were in San Francisco.

Laura Holt turns to Bernice Foxe. Laura enters the room to find Remington Steele at his desk. She smiles.

Mr. Steele: I was, but, uh, suddenly, there was nothing for me to do up there.

Remington Steele closes the door, and stands beside Laura Holt.

Mr. Steele: Now, how can I help you?

This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “License to Steele” episode was written by Michael Gleason. Remington Steele is owned by MTM Productions and Twentieth Century Fox.


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