Epilogue

Jo and Stella quietly sipped their coffees as they watched through the two-way mirror. "I think the natural look suits her," quipped Jo.

"Mm." Stella's face lit up with a cheeky smile. "You're right. Orange really is her colour."

Elsa Rossi sat bolt upright in the hard chair in the stiff orange prisoner's uniform, her hands cuffed in front of her. Her face, now devoid of make-up as well as the remnants of the wedding cake, was as hard as stone. Her hair hung limply either side of her face. She didn't move as the door opened and a man entered. Nor did she acknowledge his presence. He walked up to the table, put down a pile of files, a notepad and a pen before slipping off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. She looked at him wondering who he was. He didn't look like much of an interrogator. In fact with that tie he looked more like a used car salesman.

"Ms Rossi, I am Jeff Hamilton, US Law Enforcement Liaison Officer with Interpol." Elsa lifted an eyebrow clearly not impressed. "I understand from my colleagues here that you do not wish to make a statement without a lawyer being present. This is quite understandable given the gravity of the charges against you." He smiled. Elsa ignored him. "However, I was rather hoping that you could help me out with a ..." He pressed his lips together as he searched for a word "... well … not exactly a problem. More of a dilemma or a quandary. A predicament you might say." Elsa was tempted to roll her eyes. What a buffoon!

Stella frowned. "Tell me again why we're letting him conduct this interview."

Jo smiled. "Patience Stella. Looks can be deceiving," she answered cryptically.

Jeff Hamilton leaned back in his chair screwing up his face as though faced with a difficult math problem. "You see the thing is … everybody wants a piece of you." He smiled. "In fact, I'm tempted to chop you up in pieces and send them each a little morsel to keep them happy. But obviously I can't do that."

Stella looked sideways at Jo. "Patience Stella."

"Now I could leave you here in New Orleans to answer for your part in the plot to kidnap the Vice President and for the firearms offences related to the wounding of an FBI officer not to mention breaking and entering and credit card fraud." Elsa didn't respond. She wasn't worried. There was nothing to tie her to the attack and a good lawyer would get the gun charges reduced and she could easily find something to sway the judge.

"Or I could send you back to New York to answer for your part in the Forum's plot to blow up the New York Exhibition and Conference centre." Elsa tried to look bored. Hamilton picked up one of the files pretending to consult it.

"Of course, as a British citizen the Metropolitan Police are very keen to get their hands on you." Still no reaction. Elsa appeared to be looking at her hands as though trying to decide whether she liked the shade of nail polish. He slapped the file down on the table. He picked up another one.

"The Italians have contacted me too. They present a good case as do the French. A certain Bruno Lefebvre has asked for your extradition ..." A flicker of something passed across Elsa's face. "...in matters concerning the kidnap, torture and … attempted ... murder of a US Citizen while sojourning in Paris." Elsa's head shot up.

"Mm. Well that got a reaction," muttered Stella.

"Oh don't worry, the best is yet to come." Stella looked at Jo curiously. Clearly she knew something she didn't.

"Ah, I see that got your attention. Yes I happy to say Detective Taylor is alive and well and … er … currently tracking down your friend Jonas." All three observers were delighted to see a look of utter astonishment pass across Elsa's face. However their delight was short-lived. Elsa's face transformed into a smile but not one of happiness.

"So he survived? I'm glad," she purred. She leaned forward slightly, her lips parted as she closed her eyes for a brief moment as though reliving a particularly pleasurable event. Then she looked up at Hamilton but her eyes were focussed on the mirror behind him. "Tell him I'll look forward to our next meeting. Our last one was so … stimulating!"

Jo felt the urge to march in there and wipe the smile of her face. Stella's thought's were along the same lines though a little more aggressive. If they could have seen Jeff Hamilton's face they would have seen an expression of utter disgust. He slapped the file down ignoring Elsa's look of satisfaction. And picked up the last one. Time to go in for the kill.

He opened it and without looking at her said. "No, I think perhaps I should let our Israeli friends have you." For the first time Jo and Stella saw Elsa falter. She shuffled slightly in her chair. Her lips parted and her eyes widened. "It says here they want to question you with regard to some espionage charges. I hear their newest penitentiary is quite … state-of-the-art. I think you'll find it impressive. And … er …." Jeff Hamilton looked up. "... at least there'll be someone there that you know." Jo and Stella were surprised to see Elsa's face take on a worried expression. "I hear that Ulrika Masi has recently began her life sentence there. You do remember Ulrike don't you Elsa? I'm sure she remembers you. Perhaps we can arrange for you to share a cell?"

Elsa turned white. The blood literally drained from her face. She swallowed visibly. "You can't do that," she breathed.

"Who the hell is Ulrike Masi?" whispered Stella.

Jo shrugged. "No idea. But clearly she scares the shit out of Elsa."

Elsa stared at the man opposite her in horror. "You can't..."

Jeff Hamilton leaned forward. When he spoke his voice was cold as ice. "Oh but I can. Just think about it: one less problem for our judicial system; all the money they'll save on your trial and incarceration. Won't be difficult to get you deported seeing you entered this country on a false passport and I'm sure that the powers that be will happily get rid of you to the first country that requests your extradition. And it all depends on which file I put at the top of the pile." He tapped the last file with a finger.

Elsa Rossi's mask dropped. Her eyes glittered with hatred and his shoulders quivered with barely suppressed anger. "You son of a bitch!" Jeff Hamilton smiled.

Jo looked at Stella who appeared highly amused by the drama being played out before her. "Told you looks can be deceptive."

"What do you want?" hissed Elsa.

Hamilton pushed the paper and pen towards her. "I want everything you know on one Joseph Alan Nash aka Jonas. I want a full statement including all the names of those involved in the plot to kidnap the Vice President. And I want a full statement regarding the kidnapping and torture of Detective Mac Taylor including the names of your accomplices and how you obtained the drugs."

Elsa looked at him and then at the pen and paper. "In return?"

"Prison of your choice." Elsa's eyebrow's lifted in disbelief. "Oh you're going to prison. Make no mistake about it. It's just a question of where," he said ominously. For a moment neither of them moved then Elsa reached out and picked up the pen.

.

Jo felt the coffee return with a vengeance as she read through the last of Elsa's statements. Judging by the look on her face Stella felt just as sick. She swallowed heavily as she put down the file. "Well I guess with that list of names these statements will make a lot of people happy."

Stella nodded. "I'll have to get a copy to Nico. I'm sure he will be happy to add another arrest to his long list." Stella was right. Within hours of receiving the statement, Nico Pereire would walk into a nondescript little shop nestled in a side-street tucked away from the main tourist area of Marseille and arrest one Jacques Cortelli, antiquarian by day, seller of illicit drugs and pharmaceuticals by night. Nico would be particularly happy to gift-wrap him and hand him over to the 'stups'. Of course he would vehemently deny that there was any rivalry between the drug squad and his own team but he knew that it wouldn't be him buying drinks for the rest of the month.

They both looked up as a loud rap came at the door. Frank Mitford stuck his head in. He had a phone clamped to his ear. "I'll tell them. Thanks." He hung up and shoved the phone in a pocket. "That's our friend Walsh from the FBI. They've raided Jacob Lyle's place. Got him in custody. They're found evidence of sexual abuse of minors, bribery, corruption of state officials. I could go on. With Elsa's statement and Arthur Wescott's the charges are piling up. Mr Lyle will be going away for a very long time."

"That's great," Stella smiled.

"He passes on his thanks to you both and especially wanted me to thank Adam. Speaking of whom, have either of you seen him? He seems to have disappeared."

Stella and Jo exchanged looks of irritation.

"What?" Frank looked at them, his head swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

"Adam left us a note to say..." began Stella.

"... that he has flown to Chicago..."

"... and hired a car..."

"...evidently with the intention of tracking down Mac ..."

"...who clearly thinks he knows where Jonas is..."

"...though how he knows is anyone's guess..."

"...I'm beginning to think that Mac is ..."

""...a bad influence?"

"Tell me about it!"

"Whoa! Whoa!" Frank waved his arms in the air. "Will you two please cut that out? I'm getting neck ache." He rolled his eyes. "Jeez. You're worse than Lacey and her sister." Frank almost shot out of his skin as the small tornado that was his future wife came hurtling through the door, with Gabriel March hot on her heels.

"You have got to see this." Lacey grabbed at the remote on Stella's desk and aimed it at the TV in the corner. The screen sprang to life with a bubbly looking presenter talking rapidly into the camera. She was standing in a field with the smouldering remains of a house in the background. Dozens of onlookers were scattered over the field. The breaking news banner flashed across the bottom of the screen.

"...as you can see behind me the house has been completely destroyed. The fire raged all night as firemen battled to get it under control. A spokesman for the fire department has confirmed that the house contained large amounts of explosive material rendering the scene particularly dangerous. It seems that there may have been a large cache of weapons and ammunition in the house. Neighbours reported seeing a multitude of explosions."

The camera cut to a picture of a woman in denim dungarees standing in front of a huge man in jeans and checked shirt. Strangely the man appeared to have a shotgun over one arm. A small boy stood behind them wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"We could see it from 'ere couldn't we Marshall? Like a firework display. It went on for hours. Lit up the whole sky." A reporter off camera asked if they knew the owner. "No, kept to himself. A bit of a recluse. Not quite all there if you ask me. Funnily enough there was a young fella 'ere asking for him yesterday. Do hope he wasn't hurt. Seemed like a nice boy. Not from round 'ere."

The camera cut quickly back to the reporter at the scene.

"Police have confirmed one fatality most likely the owner of the property, a Joseph Alan Nash. They have also said that there are two other men currently helping with their enquiries but neither are suspected of being involved in the fire that destroyed this home."

The channel returned to the studio and a report on the latest Hollywood scandal. Lacey clicked the off switch.

"Two other men?" asked Jo.

Stella sighed. "It doesn't take a genius to guess who."

Frank looked pleased. "Well that's that then." The three women looked at him. "Jonas … dead. His accomplices in holding. Jacob Lyle and Arthur Wescott in the hands of the FBI and Elsa Rossi on her way to prison."

"Did she decide where she wanted to go to prison?" asked Lacey.

"France," answered Stella. "Apparently the food's better." Her voice was heavily laced with sarcasm.

"I can't believe she's getting off that easily." Lacey crossed her arms with a little shake of the shoulders as she always did when she was irritated about something.

"Oh I wouldn't say that!" Jo addressed the assembled company. "Just think about how much pressure will be put on the French authorities to ensure that she answers for her crimes in other countries. I'm sure someone will talk them into extraditing her … oh … to London … or Tel Aviv." Their smiles matched hers. Jo got up. "Well it was a pleasure working with you all but I must be getting back to New York. Can't leave the children alone for too much longer."

Stella smiled and got up to embrace her friend. "The pleasure was all ours Jo. It was good to see you again. Be sure to say hi to everyone for me. Let me know when Mac and Adam get back."

Jo nodded. "Oh I will," she assured her though she was wondering when exactly that was going to be and why they hadn't heard from either of them.

.

The old jukebox sat discretely in the corner of the bar churning out a quiet country and western song. Adam looked around the bar with it's polished wood, red upholstery and a collection of Peanuts cartoon on one wall. Appropriate, he thought. It was altogether cosy and gave off a nice vibe. He glanced at the table with its two glasses of ice-cold beer, a bowl of chips and the two cell phones sitting there accusingly. "We ought to call."

"Mm. Mm."

Adam reached for his beer, took an appreciative sip and replaced the glass. "The County PD were pretty accommodating really all things considered."

"Mm. Mm."

"Though I must say it was pretty damned lucky that the guy in charge turned out to be a former Marine."

"Mm. Mm."

Adam turned to look at Mac who was showing the tiniest of smiles. He had to all intents and purposes looked as though he were sleeping but Adam knew that he was merely trying to relax and handle the pain having refused to take more pain-killers after having his arm set at the local infirmary. "You knew that though, didn't you?"

"Mm. Mm." Mac's smile widened a little.

"Just like you knew the owner of this bar?" Adam nodded in the direction of the hefty looking barman with a crop of greying sandy hair and sun-reddened cheeks. "Lance, you said his name was?"

"Mm. Mm." Mac's smile widened a little more and he opened his eyes that sparkled with secret amusement.

They both reached for their beers. Adam gave a small laugh. "You called them before you left Paris. That's how you knew where to find Jonas."

"Mm. Mm." Mac nodded.

Adam sipped at the beer. "How exactly did you get in the house if you don't mind me asking?"

Mac shrugged. "The door was open. There was an old woman inside dusting. She let me in." He thought for a moment. "Strange really," he said to himself.

Adam looked at him. "Who was she?"

"Said her name was Myra. No, Myriam … no."

"Myrtle?" The beer slopped from side to side as Adam stared at Mac.

Mac shifted uncomfortably not wanting to admit his arm was hurting but he smiled. "Myrtle, that's it. Nice woman." Adam's eyes grew rounder. "She invited me in, made me a drink and lit a fire for me in case I was cold. Strange thing was she didn't even ask why I was there. Just told me she was going to get groceries for supper. I guess she must have mistaken me for someone else." Mac leaned to one side, stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper showing it to Adam. "Which reminds me she said she runs a boarding house in the next town. Perhaps we can find rooms there for tonight?"

Much to Mac's surprise Adam gave a sudden strangled noise as he grabbed the piece of paper. "Not such a good idea boss." He grabbed his smart-phone. "I'll see if I can find us a motel..." He looked sideways at Mac. "...without husband-murdering cleaners," he muttered as he tapped at the screen.

Mac looked nonplussed. "Huh?" Then a thought struck him. "By the way how exactly did you know know where to find me?"

Adam hesitated, his finger poised over the phone. "Er … well I … er … when Bruno called me and told me you'd flown to Chicago, I cross-checked Joseph Alan Nash's file with the evidence from the Jo and Stella had collected … and … er … by the way did you know he built his plan of attack out of Lego?"

Mac's face registered disbelief. "Lego?"

"Yeah it was awesome. There was this model of the school where they were going to plan the attack. It even had a helicopter and all the little figurines and ..."

"Adam!"

Adam stopped in mid sentence and glanced at his boss who was giving him the look. He sighed. It had been a nice try. "Okay … I tracked your credit cards and sweet talked the girl at the car rental to telling me where you were headed."

Mac nodded and raised his glass clearly impressed. "I should have known." He chuckled to himself. "You really are the most surprising of ..."

"Oh no!" Adam waved a hand stopping Mac. "No, no, no! No more Hobbit references." Mac looked surprised and was about to protest that the thought hadn't even crossed his mind when Adam continued, "Don't think I've forgotten that or that you left my favourite book in Paris. Samwise Gamgee indeed." Then he grinned a cheeky grin. "So does that make you Frodo?"

Mac smirked, sipped his beer and replaced it on the mat. "I'll have you know that I wasn't going to quote the Lord of the Rings." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "Though if I had I should certainly have said that …" He frowned as he tried to recall the passage. "... it was said to me that I should find friendship upon the way, secret and unlooked for. Certainly I looked for no such friendship as you have shown. To have found it turns great evil to good."

Adam's cheeks coloured deeply at the compliment. "Frodo to Faramir," he muttered.

Mac nodded scrunching up his face as though contemplating something. "Though I see myself more as Aragorn."

Adam rolled his eyes. Typical. "So does that make Jo and Stella, Arwen and Éowyn?" Adam was astonished to see Mac blush a deep red and give a nervous chuckle but he wisely didn't answer. Adam nodded at the cell phones. "We ought to call."

"Mm. Mm."

They both looked at one another and then reached for their beers, sipped and replaced the glasses. "Think they're going to give us an earful?"

"Mm. Mm."

"That's what I thought."Adam sighed as he stared around the little bar of which they were the only patrons. "It's not exactly Paris is it?"

Mac thought about it for a second and then conceded. "No it's not.." Then he added, "You know next year the conference is in Madrid? I know this fantastic Tapas bar ..."

"Mac! Don't even think about it!"

THE END

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