The unloading zone in the front of the Pan Am departure terminal was lined with SFPD vehicles. Behind them, helmeted officers hunched, aiming shot guns and rifles toward the lobby. To Rudy Olsen, who stood away from the terminal behind the barricade, the line of vehicles looked like the staging for a police funeral. He hoped that perception wasn't an omen. If this went sideways, he knew Mike and Norm would be caught directly in the cross fire.

Inside the terminal, the forced conversation was wearing on Mike. Too little sleep and too much stress made the task of keeping the suspects occupied difficult. Sweat, that had nothing to do with ambient temperature, made his white dress shirt stick like a second skin. As he delivered a continual patter, he strained to glean information from the muddled chatter in his ear. He had just finished his dissertation on Steve's handcuff removal technique when Philips' voice silenced the mélange of voices.

"Okay Mike, you're doing great. We are almost there. Your guys have the outside locked down and we've got all the tunnels leading to the gates covered. They aren't going anywhere. So, keep it up."

Thanks for nothing, Mike thought. Being hemmed in would just make Garrod and Meyer more reckless and desperate. His mouth was dry and a headache was blooming at the base of his skull. This was going on way too long. Garrod seem to sense this as well.

"I know you're getting updates through that wire in your ear. How are we doing with our flight plans, Mike? I'd hate to have to make an example out of one of these fine young women who are keeping us company."

"Killing a hostage isn't going to win you any popularity contests with the powers that be, Georg. You hurt either of them and I can guarantee you won't ever get out of the airport alive."

"I must say, such threats seem incongruous from someone cowering behind a flower pot."

Mike bristled at the statement and opened his speaker. "They're getting restless. Whatever you are planning to do, it better be soon."

Philips responded in a calming voice, "Okay Mike, we're in place. If you can, look over behind the ticket counter. You see the opening for the luggage conveyer belt behind the counter?" he waited for Mike respond.

Mike lifted his head up just enough to see over the concrete lip. Looking through a knot of ferns, to the left of Meyer, he saw what Philips was talking about. The square opening was about 4-feet high and had a series of clear plastic strips hanging from the upper edge. "Got it." He responded.

"Good. That's where we're setting up, but we need you keep them really focused on you. Think you can do that?"

Mike knew what he was going to do before Philips stopped talking. "Yep, just do me a favor. Make it fast and make it work. I don't think I'm going to get a second chance at this."

Mike took a deep breath. He'd know pretty quickly if this was stupidest thing he'd ever done. "Is this better?" he called to Garrod and Meyer as he stood up and walked from behind the indoor forest, aiming his weapon resolutely towards the pair. Georg and Meyers shifted their aim directly at Mike's chest.

"Why don't you drop the gun, Mike. We both know you won't shoot with these lovely ladies in the way."

Mike lowered his weapon until the barrel pointed towards the floor. He held his other hand chest high and palm out, "I have a better idea, how about you let the lovely ladies go and take me instead?"

Georg seemed bemused by the idea, "A trade, how noble. You certainly would be a more valuable hostage. But, as interesting as that seems, I think I'll have to pass. You see..."

Mike would never know what Georg was thinking. Four shots rang out in quick succession and father and son dropped to the ground.

Mike ran forward, clearing the floor level scale in stride. Norm popped up from the floor and did the same. Two Marshals burst through the luggage port and pulled the hostages free. When Mike reached the suspects he crouched down, swept their weapons clear and checked for sign of life.

Just that fast, it was over. Claus Meyer and Georg Garrod would never be prosecuted for their crimes. Both lay dead on the floor. Mike stood us, holstered his weapon and steadied himself on the counter, hands shaking badly from the adrenaline dump. He opened his speaker and gave the stand down order.

Norm looked over at Mike and smiled, "I gotta tell you. That was either the stupidest thing or the bravest thing I ever saw."

"Probably a little of both." He took his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the sweat from his face.

Mike looked up and saw the jeans and sweatshirt clad Agent Philips jogging in from security checkpoint tunnel with a broad smile on his face. Despite the fact that the suspects were dead, with only one injury to the SFPD officer and zero to civilians, the operation had gone down almost perfectly. Philips reached out his hand and Mike shook it warmly. The agent then slapped Mike on the back. "I don't know if that is the root I would have taken, but you sure got their attention."

Mike laughed. "I know." He addressed his next statement more to Norm than to Philips, "Do me a favor, don't tell Steve about this. I'll never hear the end of it."

Norm held up three fingers on his right hand in salute, "He won't hear it from me. Scouts honor."

Mike swatted Norm's hand down, "Like you were ever a Boy Scout." With the situation secure, both men laughed heartily.

Mike got serious again. There were still two more suspects at large, "Speaking of Steve, let me call him, he'll need to get word to Talbot."

"Steve probably already knows what went down." Captain's Olsen's voice boomed from the street side of the lobby.

"Captain."

"Nice work, Mike."

"Thanks, Rudy. How's our wounded man?"

"He's fine. Through and through to the left thigh. He'll be out a couple weeks, but he'll make a complete recovery."

That was the best news Mike could have hoped for.

Olsen spoke again. "Why don't you two get outta here. We have a lotta interviews and mopping up to do and you still have a live an operation at the docks. The reports can wait."

"You don't have ask me twice!" Norm said, anxious to be excused from the clean-up operation.

Mike reached his hand back to Philips and shook it a second time. "Thank you. You and your guys really got us outta a jam back there."

"Any time, Lieutenant, any time."

Mike looked around and spied his fedora lying on the floor next to the concrete planter. He picked it up and headed for the exit with Norm in tow.

00000

Steve approached Peter Garrod as silently as he could, although the man was so distracted, stealth was probably unnecessary. When he was within two arm's length of his suspect, he spoke in low voice, "Don't do it, Pete."

Garrod turned and startled, sending a shower of gravel onto a terrace 10 feet down the cliff face.

"How?"

"It's a long story. Where is everybody?"

"Airport, I supposed. He looked at his watch. Papa's flight should be taking off right about now. Brian and Georg fly out at 9 tonight."

"But not you." In the back of him mind, Steve thought about Mike at the airport, hoping for his safety.

"No, not me." Peter said, wistfully staring out towards the bridge. "It's beautiful, isn't it."

Steve admired the view and looked over the edge briefly as a stiff breeze raked the cliff face. "It is. This is one of my partner's favorite spots."

"Your father-in-law is your partner?" Peter seemed confused.

"No, that was a ruse. We've just traveled a lotta road together."

"Of course, that was foolish of me. You just seemed like a family to me. Or, how I imagine a close family would behave around one another."

Despite the treacherous situation, Peter Garrod's insight made Steve smile. "He's my best friend."

"That's nice. I wish..." Peter turned his back on the view and looked directly at Steve, "I wish I could have had such a relationship with my father."

Steve saw tears in Garrod's eyes. "It's not too late. It's never too late."

Pete laughed. "You don't know my family. Well, I guess you do after being buried alive by my brother. Image living with people who have no souls." He paused again. "I'm done. I can't do it anymore. It's all my fault that Miriam's dead."

Steve slid forward and tried to keep Peter distracted, he was still a little too far away. "How is it your fault? Did you pull the trigger?"

"No, no that was Georg, he killed the waitress as well, but I called Miriam. I knew she'd been searching for that Klimt her whole life. Mein Schatz she called it, her treasure. I needed the money to save the Farm, to stay away from them. But she contacted Talbot, he called Brian and then Brian called me I told Georg and everything went to hell." Peter was rambling now.

Steve moved even close. It seemed to him that the conversation had only strengthen Garrod's resolve.

"I've tried to make up for it..."

"I know, I saw your letter to Sarah. It was the right thing to do. Why don't you come back with me, tell the authorities what you know. Steve peeked at the time. With any luck, your father and brother and Jones are in custody already. Your testimony will put them away for good."

Garrod appeared to be pondering Steve's words. "And me?"

"I can't make any guarantees, but if you testify, the DA will take that into consideration. You'll still probably end up in prison, for a while anyhow, but you'll be free of them." Steve stepped forward, laying his hand on Peter Garrod's shoulder.

"You know I can't let that happen." Steve pulled Peter to the ground and yelped as his injured shoulder hit the ground. He turned toward the voice. Brian Jones stood up the slope, aiming Steve's .38 in their direction. "I'm stunned, Inspector Keller. How did you manage to get out of the LTD?"

"A lot of digging." Steve said. He pulled his gun, knowing his odds of hitting his mark with his left hand were only about 50/50. He shifted backward, away from Jones and towards the edge.

"You know, I told Georg he didn't bury you deep enough. I suppose Mike and Talbot are at the Airport?"

"And the Cruise terminal. There is no way you're getting out of the country, Jones. Give it up."

"Thank you for that useful information, Steve. I suppose Georg and Claus are in custody already or dead. It makes this little detour worthwhile. There are still plenty of way for me to disappear."

Steve scooted back even further, his knees clearing the ledge, hanging in space. He needed another foot.

"Goodbye, Peter." Jones said, pulling the trigger. Steve fired simultaneously, pushing back and over the edge after he fired."

00000

Mike and Norm entered the now bustling bullpen to a round of applause. Apparently the new of the averted crisis at the airport had already circulated. Mike walked to his office, concerned when he saw Sekulovich behind the desk instead of Steve.

"Mike! That was quite a stunt you pulled at the airport. Are you ok?"

"Fine. Where is my partner?"

"Talbot just called in, he sends his congratulations for neutralizing Meyer and Garrod." Sekulovich was stalling and Mike knew it.

"Where's Steve?"

"Um, he got a call from the Highway Patrol, they found Peter Garrod's Mercedes at Battery Spencer. He, um, went to check it out."

"And you let him?"

"Un, well yeah, said he'd be back in an hour ... and stay out of trouble."

"Sure he did." Mike rolled his eyes, "How long ago was that?"

"About two hours."

Mike turned on his heals. Before exiting the bullpen, he turned back to Sekulovich. "Call the Highway patrol and get a car over to the Battery, NOW. "Norm?"

Haseejian looked up, "What?"

"You're with me." Mike strode out the door.

Norm grabbed his jacket and had to jog to catch up.