The concourse was awash in travelers dragging bags and kids to and fro and the din was almost unbearable. Announcements crackled uselessly over the sound system yet Jeff swore he could still hear the cabbie whooping it up as he drove off. A thousand dollars for an airport run was going to buy him a lot of yarn-spinning coffees.

"Sure you won't change your mind?" Jessica toted her own bag through the crowds toward the domestic flight counter.

"I was hoping you might change yours." He had her by the elbow, guiding her gently.

"I can't."

"You mean won't."

"No, I mean can't." She stopped and turned to face him. "Jeff I- I- things aren't what they seem, I just- I--"

"So how are things, Jessica, tell me."

"I can't." She started moving again and then froze. Through the crowd she glimpsed the brilliant white head bandage of Orly. "Shit, they're here!"

"Huh, where?"

She pulled him over behind a pillar and pointed out Orly's passage through the parting crowd. "They guessed our destination."

"Now what?"

She checked her watch again and squeezed her forehead. "We head for arrivals, they won't look there."

Carver stood on a bench and scanned the crowd, his action annoying an elderly woman who berated him noisily and forced him to get down.

"Nosy bitch," he muttered.

"See anything?"

"Just your turbaned klutz wading through the lines."

"Will you please stop that, Carver. His name is Orly and he's a nice kid, a little jumpy but okay." Donald gave him a stunned look and stomped away.

Orly found a clearing in the crowd and stopped to try and get a decent breath. A small boy stopped and watched the strange man holding two little tubes near his nose and sucking nosily. Orly paused and stared back.

"What you want, kid?" The sound came out garbled and the boy began to cry aloud. A large man with bright red hair and tiny blue spots for eyes rushed over and asked the boy what was wrong. The tot just pointed.

"You bothering my kid?"

Orly frowned behind the wrapping. "I asked him what he was lookin' at. Rude little bugger."

"The man looked livid. "What did you say? You swearing at me?" He cocked a fist and flattened Orly's tubes against his lips sending him down and sliding across the terrazzo floor until he stopped painfully up against a pillar.

Carver and Ralph stood at the edge of the crowd as two security people led the irate father away and a paramedic tried to get Orly breathing again.

"Nice kid, eh? A Little jumpy maybe? He's an asshole, Ralphy." Carver pushed back through the crowd and spotted the escalator leading down to arrivals. "Let's try down there." Ralph gave Orly's prostrate form a dismal parting glance and then followed.

********

"What did you mean you couldn't tell me?" Jeff put a cup of coffee down in front of her in the back corner of the coffee shop. Several couples all awaiting flights and killing time with coffee and doughnuts, provided a security screen for the pair and they shifted their little table as close to the wall as possible.

"Please, I just- trust me, okay?"

"Trust you?" He laughed sardonically and drank some coffee. "I've trusted you from day one and look where I am now. You might consider the fact that I care a little."

"I'm sorry, Jeff, I really am. I never intended for things to go in this direction, there was a plan--" She bit her tongue and sipped her coffee.

"A plan? What plan? What the hell is going on here, Jessica. Why can't you tell me."

"Because she's under orders." The voice startled Jeff and he swung around to see a tall, well built man about his own age giving Jessica a sleepy smile.

"Art! You were- we−"

"It's changed, Jessie. We've been keeping an eye on you and things are getting too chancy to leave you out any longer." He pulled a chair from another table and sat down beside them. "Art Estherhouse, R.C.M.P."

Jeff automatically took the offered hand, his mouth hanging open as he looked from the newcomer and back to Jessica.

"This is what I couldn't tell you, Jeff."

"What? I still don't have a clue."

Estherhouse patted Jessica's hand and leaned closer to the table. "Jessica is an undercover operative for the R.C.M.P. We've been running an operation on a man named Howard Steinman who is responsible for laundering millions of dollars through his various operations in this country. Our investigation uncovered one of his latest deals to buy smuggled emeralds with dirty money and we sent Jessica in to steal the money. You do have it." She nodded.

"Why would the Mounties want to steal dirty money?"

Art smiled and glanced at Jessica. "The money has been followed for some time and we have a solid trail leading from some nasty sources directly to Steinman, but to make the case, we need the cash; the serial numbers and the guaranteed fingerprints of a lot of bad people up and down the line will put Mister Steinman in court for a long time."

"Just in court?"

"You know how these go, Steinman can afford the best and the best are experts at foot dragging. Still, it'll seriously crimp his business and we can round up some of the smaller fish meanwhile."

"But why me, what was my part supposed to be? What about Carver and Ralph?"

"That was my decision, and not a very good one as it turned out."

Jessica held his eyes with hers. "Donald Carver and Ralph are some of the smaller fish." She set her cup down. "I couldn't just steal it from Ralph directly. We needed Carver to be more tightly involved. It had to look like it was within their own circle, or at least people of the same ilk."

"I'm criminal ilk?" Jeff couldn't help laughing as he said it; her face was flaming.

Estherhouse looked over his shoulder and gave a slight nod then suggested that they continue their conversation somewhere less public and perhaps a little safer. They stood and followed the Mountie across to the elevators. Another man with close-cropped blonde hair stood at parade rest by the doors and when they opened he stepped inside followed by the others.

As the doors closed Jeff caught a glimpse of Ralph's bandaged face aimed straight at him.

"They're right outside there!"

"Don't worry, they can't follow us." Art watched the floor numbers climb and when the light stopped moving, the doors opened again and they exited the elevator.

"Where are we going?" Jessica had slowed down and was giving Art a strange look.

"We've got a room down here, it's fine, don't worry."

The blonde man had fallen in behind and Jeff was giving her a questioning look.

"I think we should be heading straight for the offices." Jessica stopped and then gave a start as the muzzle of the blonde's gun prodded her spine.

"What the hell?" Jeff looked at Estherhouse and saw a twinge of regret.

"I was hoping we could pull this off without any trouble. I'm sorry Jessie. Please do as I ask and get into the room."

Jeff and Jessica sat on the same side of a metal table; the room was bare otherwise. Dust clung to the thin blinds and the window glass was speckled with dirt. One of the fluorescent bulbs flickered nervously adding to the tension among the occupants. The blonde stepped outside and took up a post in the hall while Estherhouse confiscated the package from Jessica and began counting deliberately.

"Why are you doing this, Art?" Jessica sounded truly baffled and Jeff pinched his forehead, still unable to reconcile the fact that she was a Mountie.

"Because it was time. Too many laughable sentences or non-convictions, piss poor compensation for years of service and a crappy pension at the end. It was time . . . my time."

"You planned this all the way along." Her voice flattened. The huskiness gone.

"Looks that way, and it worked very well too."

"What happens to us?"

He stopped counting and looked sadly at her angry face. "There might have been some wiggle room if your friend hadn't been along, Jess, but now . . . too many cooks."

"What about your silent sentinel out there, he one of the many cooks?" Jeff was gauging the odds of a lunge across the table and whether it would even be sane to consider it.

Estherhouse's grin was nasty and he didn't answer, instead just continued counting.

"You won't get away with this, Art, you can't just leave us here and expect no one to investigate."

Jeff winced at the implication and reconsidered his plan.

"You'd be surprised what I can do, Je−" A shout from the corridor made him jump and he shot them both a glance before rushing to the door. Outside the blonde man was wrestling with Donald Carver, both men fighting for control of the weapon in the Mountie's hand.

"Hold it right there, pal." Ralph's voice echoed up and down the hall and before Jeff or Jessica could react, Art was shoved backwards into the room and his henchman sprawling after him.

"Hey, the gang's all here," Carver laughed. "And look at that, Ralphy, they brought our money."

"You made a huge mistake, Carver, this is an R.C.M.P. investigation; the whole place is crawling with Mounties all concentrating on you two." Art brushed the dirt off his jacket sleeve and tried to appear authoritative. The blonde was bunching his ample muscles, just waiting for the order to spring.

"That's why we have our superhero downstairs taking all the attention." He laughed again and Ralph grimaced. "Put that money into the bag and then get back against the wall."

Slowly, Art complied, his jaw muscles working overtime as he saw his great scheme whirling down the drain. He stuffed the last of the bills in the bag and then stood still, hands resting on top of it.

"Against the wall, Sergeant Preston." Carver waved the gun he'd wrestled from the blonde man. "You too, wonder dog."

Ralph grabbed the bag from the table and backed to the door, opening it and checking the corridor. "Clear."

"Okay then, guess we'll be going, gang." Carver gave a mock salute, dropping his gun arm for a mere second as he did.

It was all the blonde needed. He leapt across the side of the table catching Carver on the hip with a vicious kick, sending him spinning away into the corner. The gun flew over near the door where Ralph waited a split second too long to make a grab for it. Both Art and Jessica landed hard on the linoleum floor, grappling for it.

Jeff ran across to help but took a kidney punch from the blonde who stopped beating on Carver long enough to thwart this new threat. Jeff groaned and went down to his knees. Ralph yanked the door open and darted into the hall, his footsteps thudding noisily as he beat his retreat.

Jessica stuck a thumb in Art's eye and pressed hard. He screamed angrily but released his grip on the gun and she rolled away, assuming a shooting position on one knee, arms extended.

"Freeze you bastard!" Jeff froze. The rest kept scrambling; Carver trying to crawl away from the blonde beating on him and Art clawing for the ankle holster he was wearing. "Don't do it, Art!"

Art did, much to his regret. The sound of the gun in the bare room was deafening and the wet smack of the bullet in Art's cheek was like a period at the end of a sentence. Blondie stopped mid punch. Carver yelped in surprise. Jessica stood slowly, gun trained on Art, and Art teetered unsteadily with one finger poking at the hole in his face before crashing down on the table and onto the floor.

"Jesus, Jessica! You shot him-- a cop!"

"A dirty cop." She swung the gun around on the other two and waved them to their feet. "Grab my cell and call nine-one-one."

"What about Ralph and the money?"

"I found him before, I'll find him again." She made both men face the wall with their hands in their back pockets then she pulled the table over and rammed into the back of their legs. "Don't even think of moving."