Jack nodded to Harry to call the pilot to tell him they were on the way. “Then go downstairs and have the lady call us a taxi.”

Jack watched as Petrie pulled a Gucci suitcase out from under the bed. He continued to watch as she threw her belongings in any old way, her toiletries on top of the mess. She closed the suitcase, locked it, and stared defiantly at Jack.

“Give me your passport,” Jack said.

“I will do no such thing.” Jack waved the switchblade in front of her. She swallowed hard but remained defiant.

“Last chance,” Jack said, advancing on her.

“I want a lawyer! I have rights!”

“I bet you do. Want a lawyer that is. You have no rights. I just took them away. Now, hand over the passport, or you’re going to be minus an ear.”

One look at Jack’s determined expression, and Petrie backed up a step and groped on the unmade bed for her purse. With one eye on Jack and the other on her purse, she fumbled until she found the passport. She handed it over, her hands shaking.

Jack looked down at the blue cover on the passport—American. “Now give me your French passport. What? You thought I was stupid. Well, shame on you. C’mon, hand it over.”

Petrie knew then that she was beaten. She fumbled some more in the oversize purse that could have passed for an overnight bag or a backpack and finally withdrew her rouge-colored French passport. She handed that over, too.

Jack skimmed through it as well as the American one. Many stamps on both. Well, Miss Jane Petrie’s traveling days were coming to a close. He jammed both passports into his jacket pocket and pulled the zipper to assure they remained safe and sound.

“Let’s go. You get to carry your own suitcase. Try anything funny, and you’ll regret it. My colleague is waiting at the bottom of the steps, so be fair warned. Do not talk, do not scream, just act normal. One peep out of you, and, like I said, you will regret it. And if you think for one minute that the taxi driver is going to help you, you’re wrong. What’s it going to be, lady? Decide now.”

“Okay, okay,” Petrie said through clenched teeth.

“Good choice. This might be a good time to tell you that Lincoln Moss has people tracking you down. So far tonight, we are one step ahead of them. If you’re smart, you’ll want to keep it that way.” Petrie nodded.

Seventy minutes later, Jack and Harry ushered Jane Petrie up the portable steps to Anna de Silva’s Gulfstream. Harry carried the Gucci bag and stored it beside the stewardess’s jump seat.

Ten minutes later, they were wheels up and headed back to the good old United States.