"We found the man at the airport but lost him temporarily. We could use more men."

Jean Paul placed his fingers on his head and closed his eyes. There would be a house cleaning when this was over.

"Call Anthony and tell him to get over there and help . . . and don't call again until you have them. Do you understand?" The Marlon Brando rasp was spot on and the man apologized, ending the call.

"Trouble, cheri?"

"Nothing to worry your pretty head about, Helene. Now — where were we?" Jean Paul purred.

***

"Keith, you'll have to slow down. I should have worn the wrinkled pants."

"I'm sorry – I'm trying to get us to a safe place – somewhere. Damn! There must be another - there! In the corner. Elevator." Once again she felt her feet leave the ground as he rushed them forward.

"The blue button is departures." Barbara panted, once inside the car.

"Okay, when the door opens don't get out right away. Let me check first. Will it be the departure lounge you think?"

"No. You have to check in first with your first class ticket."

"Here's my ticket. If we need to split up you get to the lounge and tell them I'm- whatever. I can just show my boarding pass then, right?"

"Yes but-"

"No, buts – what is taking so long to go two floors?"

The door opened and he held her back with one hand while he stuck his head out and looked around.

"I don't see them, but there could be more, c'mon."

Barbara forced him to walk casually both for appearance and her own ability in the tight skirt. Why she had chosen that for the Riviera would be a question for the ages, she groaned to herself.

"They're here." He whispered, steering her near a small group by the lounge entrance. "Light tan fedora by the window."

Barbara glanced up at the flight information screen by the entrance and saw they still had just over an hour to wait. Odds were getting very thin, she worried.

"Excuse me, are you going into the lounge?" The group turned as one and stared at Keith.

"They don't speak English." Barbara smiled and repeated his question in French, getting a critical once over by the women before they stepped aside and let them by.

"Merci bucket." Keith snapped, pushing Barbara up to the desk.

Straw hat was on his phone to loud shirt, who hurried toward the lounge, while he waited for the help to arrive. The sudden appearance of another group of people from the stairway, clogged up the entrance to the lounge as they joined the one already waiting, with shouts of glee, air kisses, hugs, and laughter.

The woman at the lounge desk asked Keith and Barbara to step aside while she processed the rest of the group that had arrived.

"Uno momento! Keith protested. We're right here and there's only two of us. Just let us in."

Barbara gawked. "Uno momento?"

"Whatever. Tell her to let us in."

"No use, Keith. She has her priorities. Period."

"Yeah, well so do I, c'mon." He took Barbara's arm and steered her into the lounge, walking quickly to the area with the most people.

"This will mean trouble."

"I'll flash my badge if necessary but for the moment we're safe."

"I don't think that's entirely true."

At the entrance, loud shirt and straw hat were pointing their way and the desk attendant was nodding and giving Keith and Barbara the squinty eye.

"Crap! There must be another way out of here." He steered her toward the rear of the breakfast buffet stand and into the kitchen behind.

"Zut alors!" The short man with the Poirot moustache waved a large wooden spoon at them, his brow wrinkling to the point of deformity.

"Veuillez nous excuser, nous devons trouver la sortie," Barbara held her hands up in apology.

"Out! Out!" He waved toward the corner angrily.

Through the door and down the stairs, once again Barbara hindered by her skirt and Keith admonishing her to hurry. They exited into the main floor concourse and immediately found a car rental service.

"Finally, a bit of luck."

"We can't rent a car-" Barbara started.

"Shh, we aren't. We're just going to grab the service shuttle out to their parking area. Keith urged her to ask where they could pick it up and then hurried to an exit not far away.

"What do we do in the middle of a parking lot?"

"We say we made a mistake and get a ride back to the departure entrance. They do a circuit."

"And how do you know this?"

"When we first got here and picked up our own rental. I asked, because it seemed a long walk back."

The shuttle driver made several stops in different areas, dropping renters off by their chosen automobile then with a care-less shrug, drove back to the terminal. They got out and entered the departure area, heading straight for the elevator.

"What if they are still there? We only have a little over fifteen minutes to get to our gate - less really."

"They may have left somebody, but I'm betting after speaking to that kitchen guy their search is back down the way we went."

"I hope you are right. If we have to run again, this skirt is coming off."

Keith laughed as the elevator door opened. "Let's hurry then!"

***

The race to catch their flight from Nice had been stressful but finally successful, as well as the transfer in Frankfurt for the flight home. Keith fiddled with the seat controls, tried all the channels on his personal monitor and dug into the gift kit given to all first class passengers.

"This is a relief. I wasn't sure we would make it and when the pilot announced a delay I thought the jig was up." Barbara let out a long breath.

"Look at this stuff! Socks! Toothbrush and paste and a comb! What's this? Oh, for cryin' out loud, it's a sleeping mask!"

"You are like a little kid, Detective."

"What are these stickers for?"

"They go there on the arm rest. That one is so they won't wake you if you are asleep. The other one is wake me for food and drink service."

"Oh, man . . . and did you see the menu? Starters and salads and a choice of four entrées! And look at the deserts – and booze, my God!"

"Feel better about first class now?"

"Huh, who knew? What a difference – you can walk in front of me and I don't even have to move my feet! And reclining, geez it's almost flat!"

Barbara lay her head back and closed her eyes, smiling. If anything about this trip was worth the trouble, she thought, this was definitely it. Unintended, she dozed off and was awakened by an urgent push on her arm.

"Eh, what?" She blinked her eyes open and sat up. "What?"

"I went to the washroom and then walked back and took a peek into the economy section . . . our two friends are seated at the rear."

"Friends – you mean the- the gangsters?"

"Loud shirt and straw hat. There was no mistaking them."

"But how . . . the delay! It must have been to board them!"

"This Jean Paul character is really serious about getting that scroll back. He must swing a lot of weight to hold up a flight like that."

"What will we do?"

"Nothing, right now. When we land I'll get in touch with . . . wait a minute. Can we make a call from the plane?"

"I can send a text with my cell."

"Perfect. Problem solved. Send this to my boss-"

"I don't have a number for your boss, Keith."

"Oh, right. hang on." He dug out some papers from his jacket and handed her one. "That's the number the French cop used to reach me, it's in our office."

Barbara composed the text he dictated and pressed send then put her phone away. "Good, now can we enjoy the flight?"

"Can we get these seats together somehow?"

"Detective Railton!"