“Hurry back,” Molly whispered.

And his startled expression was immediately masked with a smile. “I'll be back before you doze off.”

But Molly had read his reaction properly; she knew he was leaving to go after Egon.

Immediately after Carey walked away, she entered their room, set her note to her daughter prominently in the center of the bed, and left to follow Carey. She knew her daughter well enough to know she would be the first to say, “Go, Mom.”

Anticipating his swift departure, she'd changed before lunch into comfortable slacks and a cotton sweater. With a jacket clutched in one hand, she watched Carey stride toward the stables. He must have some last minute instructions for Leon; she didn't believe the ruse of Lucy's boots for one minute.

Bernadotte's home was situated on a gentle rise overlooking a rolling panorama of hills and pastures and forest. The stables were closest to the house at the back, separated by a broad stretch of green lawn and a beautifully raked gravel turnaround for loading horse trailers. Directly east of the stables, beyond three fenced pastures, were the hangars for the planes. A hedged drive bordered the pastures, leading to the large airstrip cleared from the forest, and Molly made swiftly for the security of the hedge shadows. With Carey taking a detour to the stables, she'd have the advantage of arriving at the plane before him. And if by chance she'd misinterpreted and he did return to the house, she could simply say she'd gone out looking for him.

Would it be possible for her to board the plane undetected? How many people would be around the hangars and plane? Would she have to threaten Carey somehow to have him take her along? Was she overreacting? she wondered, struck by a niggling sensation suggesting she was overplaying the Nancy Drew clues. Then the jet engines roared into operation.

One gold star for Nancy Drew.

And one for a young woman who'd never done anything more exciting than fight her way through Frank Murphy's annual sale of designer dresses. She felt an exhilarating sense of adventure.

A new determination crept in past her initial fear for Carey that had impelled her to follow. Now the small impetus of reading the clues properly invigorated her, and she approached the entrance to the airstrip with a sleuth's caution and excitement.

There was no approach short of brazening it out that would get her across the broad expanse of lawn between the hedge and the hangar. She stepped out of the shadows onto the freshly mowed grass and walked briskly toward the strip where the large jet had taxied. Reaching the hangar, she stood still, gauging whether she'd been noticed. From where she stood with her back against the wall, she could see the ramp of steps had been wheeled up to the plane. Was Jess inside, or was he in the hangar? Were others accompanying Carey and Jess, or were they going alone? If she walked across the vast open tarmac to the plane, she'd be in perfect view… but her choices were limited. In broad daylight, any surreptitious approach was out of the question.

Just as she began stepping around the corner of the hangar, she caught sight of Carey coming across the pasture from the stables. Sliding around the corner out of sight, she held her breath and tried to concoct some plausible story should someone see her pressed against the wall. Damn! If she didn't manage to get on that plane, she was going to be left plastered to this wall when the plane took off. Taking a quick peek around the corner, she saw Carey no more than twenty yards from the hangar. Think, think! she commanded her flustered brain. Her options were rapidly dwindling to zero. Carey was between her and the plane without so much as a bush for concealment.

Wonder Woman or Superman would come in handy right now. Then she could dispense with the plane altogether. She could simply follow Carey through the sky like a human bird. Reluctantly discarding that plan, she was debating the possibility of dissolving into buckets of tears and pleading to be taken along when she heard Jess shout, “Come in here for a minute, Carey. I'm having some hassle with Duluth on filing the flight plan.”

And Carey turned abruptly from his direct route to the plane.

“Thank you, God,” Molly whispered into the blue sunny sky, “you're back from vacation. Just kidding,” she quickly added, unwilling to tempt heavenly retribution.

As Carey entered the hangar, she didn't think. She didn't weigh the odds. She didn't consider the chance that Carey or Jess might look out the window.

She sprinted.

Down the west side of the hangar, onto the warm tarmac.

The thirty yards between herself and the plane stretched like a shimmering mirage in the desert. It helped when you didn't have time to think. It helped when the blood was pumping so loudly in your ears, no other sounds intruded. But what helped most was the martinet on the phone giving Jess trouble over his flight plan.

“I'll talk to him,” Carey snapped after the third explanation. And as Carey brusquely said, “Listen carefully. This is very simple…” Molly bolted up the steps into the dim interior of the jet.

She'd never been inside a private jet before. Scanning the arrangement of furniture to her left, the small lounge area closest to the door, and the hallway to her right, she cautiously turned right and took two tentative steps. Was anyone on the plane… perhaps in the galley? Was there a cargo area she could hide in? Hurry, hurry, an insistent voice reminded her. Another several steps and she saw the efficient chrome galley tucked away on her right. The door directly across the aisle was the bathroom, she discovered, after carefully easing the door open. One door remained. Taking a deep breath, praying no one was on the other side, she opened it. A compact bedroom with just enough space for a built-in bed and closet was decorated in black and poppy-red chintz.

A quick survey indicated one could not hide under the bed or in the closet, unless you were Houdini or an Indian mystic well versed in the more complex yoga positions. Her agitated mind was moving into overdrive in its insistent screaming, hurry, hurry, and a swift glance out the small curtained window froze her momentarily. Jess and Carey were walking toward the plane.

Pulling the bedroom door shut, she fled back down the hall to the bathroom and slipped inside only moments before she heard Carey's voice.

“She wasn't very happy, but I didn't have any choice.”

“It's for the best. Women always get in the way.”

“Not always, Jess,” Carey said, innuendo soft in his voice.

“Okay, but you know what I mean. Egon is going to be trouble. Hey… what the hell is the head light on for?” he asked, his voice suddenly changing.

Oh Christ, Molly forgot the damn light went on when the door locked. Her heart seemed to stop for endless moments as she heard Jess tugging at the door and muttering.

“Let it go, Jess,” Carey said. “We can pry it open later. Let's take off. With Rifat after Egon, every damn minute counts. And pray for tail winds. I'm hoping like hell to beat Egon to Le Retour.”

The sound of receding footsteps was Molly's cue to begin breathing again, and she inhaled carefully, making the least possible noise. She caught sight of herself in the mirror over the sink. She was ashen. So much for bravery and boldness; she'd probably drop dead at the sound of gunshots. But three normal breaths later, she realized she'd muddled through another crisis. What would Wonder Woman do next?

Almost an hour into the flight-definitely too late to turn back-someone approached her hiding place and began prying the door open. Rather than wreck the door, she unlatched the lock. The soft click of the lever brought instant silence.

Before she had time to decipher the sudden silence, the door shot open and she was facing the business end of a silencer affixed to a 9mm Beretta. Then she looked up into Carey's angry face.

“I should have known,” he growled, “when you first raised your arms in the backseat of the limo.”

“But your celebrated hormones,” Molly purred, “were guiding your brains as usual, weren't they?”

“So far I've managed,” he curtly retorted.

“One can only hope Rifat doesn't throw some nubile young starlet into your path this side of Egon,” she acidly replied.

“And all that smiling agreeableness,” he said, furious his plans were jeopardized by her presence. “I should have known better. When you're that agreeable, I'd better watch my back.”

“Don't fault me on hypocrisy, darling. ‘I'm going to check on Lucy's boots,'” she mimicked.

“It was necessary.” The anger in his voice was so controlled, it only carried the short distance between them.

Her face took on an expression of scorn. “Your deception is necessary, and mine is not? How convenient.”

His hand dropped away from the door. Turning abruptly, he walked away and strode forward to the cockpit. At the moment he was too angry to trust his reactions. Molly's presence was going to bloody well fuck up everything… and he needed some time to unjam the overwrought circuits in his mind that were screaming abort! Abort!

It was too late to turn back if he hoped to beat Egon to Le Retour. Maybe Jess could stay with Molly on the plane, but Carey needed his help with Egon. Hell!

Molly watched him stalk away, enter the cockpit, and slam the door shut. Moving toward the couch and chairs arranged comfortably near some small tables, she sat down and waited to see if the plane would turn around. She'd only seen Carey that angry once before, and that was the night she left him in his apartment at Mrs. Larsen's to go off and marry Bart. His voice today had the same taut control, as though the softness of his tone could conceal his terrible rage.