Gil and Jarlayne conferred with Mike outside the security office where Arnold Chang was being held. They told him about the attempt to retrieve the luggage, which got Chang in trouble, and how the woman at the counter had seen Miriam Spenser-Forbin accompany her boss upstairs to his office. Mike grabbed two of the guards along with the manager and they took off up the escalator to the office of Arthur Evers.

"Just about over, Gil." Jarlayne took a deep breath.

"It's been a ride, eh? Arnold Chang, Jesus what a tangled web." She smiled and he winced, shaking his head. "Can we get a coffee or something around here? I don't want to leave until I see Miriam in—!"

"What?"

Gil pointed across the concourse and Jarlayne followed his finger to the unhurried passage of a tall, elegantly clad woman heading for the exit. "It's her!" He started running. "Call Mike!"

"My phone doesn't work in here," she said passing him with long driving strides, her high heels clacking noisily on the terrazzo floor.

"Hey!"

"You find Mike." She hollered over shoulder and he skidded to a stop and watched her along with the parting crowds as she gained on Miriam.

The noisy commotion caused Miriam to turn and she emitted a small gasp as she saw the figure of the black woman striding toward her. It took a second to register then she realized that it was the Brighton woman and that she was in immediate danger. Miriam quick stepped to the revolving door and pushed her way through, searching up and down the taxi rank for a free cab.

She continued down the sidewalk and then darted back inside and onto an escalator heading down to the arrivals. Jarlayne burst out of the revolving door and jerked to a halt as she scanned the sidewalk and the roadway for Miriam. An elderly baggage handler pushed a cart carefully toward her, his eyebrows rising as he realized she was coming toward him, smiling.

"Woman about forty- forty-five. Tall, slim. Wearing a pale blue skirt and a cream blouse." Her statement demanded his attention and he nodded, pointing to the door he'd just exited.

"Ran through there and toward the escalator, I think."

"Thanks, Sweetie." She patted his cheek and took off at a run.

Miriam exited the escalator and pushed her way through the crowd of waiting friends and relatives milling around the arrival gates. She spotted a washroom sign and hurriedly squeezed past a family of Asians blowing up balloons and readying signs for whomever they were expecting. She walked calmly through the powder room and casually checked the stalls. Satisfied that she was alone, she removed the gun from her purse and checked the chamber then moved the only chair to a corner beside the door and sat down and waited.

She wondered if perhaps shooting Peter had been an error; Arnold had fallen apart in a manner she had never expected and now her whole plan, all the hard work, the scheming, even the planned death of her own husband, all seemed for naught. She focused on the door as a small girl came in with something sticky all over her fingers. The girl looked at Miriam and showed her hands before going to the sink and stretching to turn on the tap and squeeze some soap onto her fingers.

A moment later a woman burst in and Miriam sat straight, her finger tightening on the trigger but it turned out to be the girl's mother and they carried on at the sink with scoldings and apologies until the goo was removed and the girl was suitably dried and tidied up enough to depart the washroom.

Jarlayne scowled at the throng of people, knowing she would never pick Miriam out in that crowd. She tried to find a secluded corner to use her cell phone, getting a lot of static for her trouble both from the phone and the crowd she shoved her way through. A woman ushered a small girl into the same corner and with a sternly pointed finger, told the girl to stay put and not move while she checked the arrivals screen. Jarlayne looked down at her and grinned.

"Not much fun being small in a big crowd, is it?"

"I just want to sit down," she answered, pouting. "The lady in the bathroom is sitting. They should have more chairs for tired people."

Jarlayne ran her tongue back over her molars. "Does the lady sitting in the bathroom have a nice blue skirt and a white blouse?"

The little girl opened her eyes wide and nodded. "Yes, she does. And she's pretty too."

"Thanks, Sweetheart." She patted the girl's head. "Will you be okay here by yourself? Your mom is right there, see her?"

"Yes."

"Okay then. Bye, bye." Jarlayne walked the short distance to the restroom entrance and paused.

•••

"Where's Jarlayne?" Mike searched the concourse anxiously with his eyes.

"She took off after Miriam. They went outside, I tried to get you on this stupid thing." He held up his phone and then jammed it in his pocket. "Don't they have cameras covering these areas? Get someone to check the tapes."

Mike turned to speak to the manager but the man was nodding affirmative and snapping orders over his walkie-talkie. A few frustrating minutes later, he announced that Jarlayne had been spotted on the escalator to arrivals and again near the arrival gate talking to a small girl.

The men all jogged toward the escalator, the manager ordering his security team to meet them in arrivals, delivering a memorized image of the little girl. Gil swung around the end of the escalator and stopped; the concourse was packed almost solid with the newly arrived passengers, baggage carts and shouting relatives. He turned and shrugged at Mike who in turn looked at the manager.

"Over there," he shouted. A short distance down the concourse two airport security men were threading their way through the throng, bending to study the children clutching their parent's legs. As Mike and Gil pushed their way toward them a hand shot into the air waving frantically. One of the guards had found the girl.

•••

Jarlayne cursed her carelessness. Instead of getting back up, she'd marched into the washroom expecting Miriam to be too shocked to react. Instead she found a very calm, confident Miriam, fully in control of her situation, as far as it went. She sat against the sink counter watching the barrel of the gun trace idle patterns over the front of her body.

"It's over, Mrs. Forbin. Even if you get out of here, your accomplice, the money... it's all gone. Give me the gun and let's end the grief."

Miriam smiled and stood from the chair. "Please sit over here, dear. And no tricks, as you say we could do with less grief." She moved away as Jarlayne obeyed, sitting and crossing her legs. "I understand poor Peter's lust a little better now, seeing you. He mentioned you, you know. Right in the middle of a particularly delicate moment between us." She backed away and placed herself out of sight of the doorway. "It was about that time I decided that Peter would lose out to Arnold. Up until then it really was a toss up."

"You killed Peter."

"I'm sure that's not news now, dear. Did poor Helen confess? I expected as much."

"Mrs. Forb—"

"Miriam will do, dear, and it was Spenser-Forbin, obsolete memory now."

"Okay, Miriam. What do you plan to do now? You won't even get out of here let alone the airport."

"Really?" Miriam smiled her predator's smile and went to the door. A quick check proved Jarlayne's statement to have a great deal of truth in it. The concourse was taped off around the washroom entrance and the crowds awaiting passengers had turned their interest to the curious drama playing out behind them. She saw Gil and the detective and she sighed, stepping away from the door.

"I'm afraid, my dear, you are going to have to use your considerable wiles and charms to convince your friends to let me leave."

"It's hopeless, Miriam."

"Then they will be totally responsible for the horribly disfiguring end you will endure when I blow your face off from the back of your head." The voice changed from the cultured tone to a tough, nasty rasp. Jarlayne swallowed, her dry throat pinching with the effort.

"Why?"

"Can you honestly see a women such as myself in jail? "I find the thought of going down in a hail of vengeful gunfire rather romantic—not my first choice mind you, but still..."

"You're sick, Miriam."

"Cure me. Convince your friends."

•••

"Watch it! The door's opening. No shooting, understood?" Mike leveled his gun at the washroom door and steadied his breathing. Gil stood just behind him whispering cautions.

Jarlayne stepped unsteadily out of the washroom and stopped. She was bent at an odd angle and it wasn't until she spoke, could they make out the shape of Miriam close behind her, holding her tight by the hair.

"You are to drop your guns and clear a passage for us to leave." Her voice was shaky and strained. "Miriam has a gun against my neck."

"Jesus! Let them go!" Gil grabbed Mike's arm and felt the anger as the detective shook him off.

"It's all over, Mrs. Forbin. Drop your weapon and step away from Miss Brighton." Mike raised his gun slightly.

"I've heard it all before, detective. Don't waste your breath. Just do as your friend says or watch her die."

"Last chance, Mrs. Forbin."

"No, it's your last chan—" The noise of the gunfire followed by the screams from the onlookers stunned everyone in a frozen tableau. Jarlayne fell sideways, knocking her arm painfully against the corner of the wall and slid to the floor. The international symbol for women on the washroom door dripped with freshly spattered blood and pieces of hair. Below, on the floor, Miriam lay crumpled in a most un-lady-like heap, her face a raspberry bruise of shattered flesh.

"Jesus Christ, Mike!" Gil stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside Jarlayne, cradling her in his arms.

"Are you okay, Jar? Are you hurt?"

"My dignity and my arm," she said rubbing it tenderly. She let Gil help her up and stood unsteadily in his grip while the security people magically came up with a screen to hide the mess that was once Miriam from the crowd. Mike walked over, checking his weapon and slipping it back into its holster.

"You okay?"

"Jesus, Mike..." Gil began but quickly found himself replaced as Jarlayne's support.

"I'll take her out to the car, you get the names of all these security types and tell the manager not to touch a thing until my people arrive."

"I'm not a cop, for Christ's sake." Gil complained but the couple had already reached the escalator and he accepted a short wave from Jarlayne as they rode up out of sight.