Chapter 17



"We're going where?" Natalie stood in her open front door, a stunned look on her face.

"Prague. And we don't have much time. If you don't believe me, you can call my boss," said Paolo. He held out his cell phone. "But that would royally piss him off."

"No, I believe you. It's just . . I don't know. I'm shocked. Is Jeff okay?"

Mentally, Paolo cringed. "Fine. But he's not talking."

She looked so confused and vulnerable. Paolo wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her.

"Come on. We're on a tight schedule." Paolo pushed past Natalie and closed the door. She seemed rooted to her spot in the foyer, staring at the tile.

Paolo grabbed her shoulders and forced her to look up at him. "Natalie! Get a grip. We'll get
through this together, okay?"

"Yeah."

He took her hand and pulled her down the hall toward the bedroom. "Do you have a small carry-on?"

"In the guest room closet."

"Bring enough clothes for several days."

** Miami International Airport

"This is the final boarding call for Lufthansa flight 4253, nonstop service to Prague, at Gate 32. Please have your ticket and boarding pass out and ready for the gate attendant."

Paolo and Natalie sprinted to the gate, the last passengers to arrive. A guy resembling a pro football player paced back and forth. He had a cell phone to his ear and repeatedly looked at his watch . When he saw Paolo and Natalie, he snapped the phone shut and scowled.

"Sabbatini?"

Paolo handed the air marshal their passports. "Sorry. There was a big wreck on the expressway."

"Chuck Coleman." The marshal examined the passports, nodded, and returned them to Paolo. "Shake a leg. The pilot's busting my balls to close the door."

They hustled down the jetway and onto the plane. Chuck took a seat in the middle of the plane and Paolo and Natalie made their way to seats near the back. Natalie took the window seat and Paolo dropped into the aisle seat after stowing their carry-ons in the overhead bin.

"Will it ever end?" sighed Natalie. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Paolo glanced at her. Thank goodness she'd changed from her tank top and shorts into jeans and a blouse. He would have hated to be distracted by all that smooth, exposed skin on this ten-hour overnight flight.

In the galley behind them, a tray crashed to the floor. Natalie's eyes flew open and held his gaze.

"I have to be honest. It's going to be a long, painful process. As much as the FBI wants to get their hands on him, murder charges take precedence over identity theft and embezzlement. Once the Germans have him, they won't let go."

"He really killed those people? They have proof?"

Even now, Paolo realized she was trying to find something redeeming in this whole sad affair. Maybe that was how it was when you loved someone. The thought disturbed him on some level he couldn't explain at the moment.

"He tried to cover his tracks, but one print was lifted from the inside of Monika Sterne's purse. It was Jeff's."

Natalie turned to look out the window, but not before a single tear escaped from the corner of her eye.

** Two hours later

Dinner was over and the cabin lights had been dimmed. Some passengers were engrossed in the movie while others tried to get comfortable enough to sleep. Natalie was turned toward the window, apparently not wanting to talk anymore. Paolo checked e-mail on his laptop. Chuck had been by once on his way to the bathroom. The two men nodded slightly at each other.

Now another passenger moved down the aisle. A large black man in a business suit. This was the third time he'd been to the back of the plane. Each time he made eye contact with Paolo.

Something was not right. Paolo thought about the Ten Most Wanted list, but this guy was not on it.

Natalie stirred. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Now?"

She frowned. "Yes, now. Is that a problem?"

"No problem." Paolo closed his laptop and stood to let her out. He rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension and kept his eyes toward the bathrooms.

A door opened and the mystery man exited. Paolo pretended to need an item from the overhead bin as the man returned to his seat. He noted where he was sitting - right across from the air marshal. There was no way he could talk to Chuck without arousing the man's suspicion. He would have to e-mail Miami with a description to see if anything turned up on him.

Another five minutes passed and Natalie was still in the bathroom. Paolo went and tapped lightly on the door.

A flight attendant approached him. "Is your girlfriend ill? She looked rather pale."

"She's not - the words my girlfriend almost slipped out - a good flier. Bad stomach."

The flight attendant smiled. "My husband has the same problem. Perhaps some ginger ale would help." She opened a drawer and pulled out a cold can.

"Thank you." Then Paolo had an idea. "Could you do me a favor?"

**

"Here's your Diet Coke, sir," said the flight attendant.

Chuck Coleman looked up from his hunting and fishing magazine. "But I didn't order . . ."

The flight attendant leaned down and whispered, "From the gentleman in seat 65."

Chuck saw a piece of paper sticking out of the napkin and nodded. "Thanks. I was getting kinda thirsty."