He chose airport parking. If Debbie was under arrest, it would take hours to straighten out this mess. He could still remember his own family’s nightmare trip, when they’d had to try to convince the authorities that Buddy’s invention was nothing more deadly than a hand-held computer game. And, if by chance Debbie was already gone, he was going to be right behind her. Either way, he wouldn’t be needing his car for some time to come.

Stuffing the claim ticket in his pocket, he began to jog. By the time he reached the terminal, he was in an all-out run. Several people stared at the tall, suntanned man dressed in blue jeans and sneakers. And quite a few noticed how well his Forty-niners T-shirt molded to his physique. But it was all they saw. He was merely a blur through the crowd.

Cole was running. One quick look told him her flight had been delayed. Oh Lord! That means she’s been arrested, and they’re probably searching baggage.

What he had to do now was get to security, and he knew right where it was. He should. He’d spent the better part of three hours there himself.

“You can’t go in there,” a guard shouted as Cole sprinted down a hallway.

He stopped, breathing hard, and dug in his pocket and flashed his badge. “Detective Brownfield, Laguna Beach Narcotics,” he said quickly. “Can you tell me, in the last hour or so, has a young woman been arrested?”

The guard grabbed Cole by the arm and asked, “What do you know about it? And let me see that badge again.”

I can see I was right. “Just take me to security,” Cole asked. “I can explain everything.”

“I seriously doubt it,” the guard said.

“Believe me,” Cole sighed, as they started down a long hallway, “I can.”

*  *  *

Debbie stared at a point just past the officer’s shoulder and stifled the urge to scream. She’d been an swering the same questions for nearly an hour. It was obvious that they either needed hearing aids or didn’t believe her. She opted for the latter.

“So, Miss Randall,” Officer Tillet droned, “if you claim you know nothing about how this got in your luggage, maybe you can tell me what it does.” He pointed to Buddy’s computer game, careful not to touch any of the buttons and accidentally activate anything deadly.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, and drawled, “All I know is that, if you don’t turn it on, you can’t rescue the princess.”

Tillet frowned. Must be some kind of code. One never knows about radical factions and their crazy plans to save the world. His pulse soared. This would mean a promotion for sure if he’d accidentally stumbled onto a plot by the IRA to harm the Royal Family.

“Princess, huh? As in Princess Di, maybe? Where were you headed anyway, London?”