Bartlett looked up at a row of monitors next to the security checkpoint. “Three, no, five flights departing in the next two hours, from three gates.” He led the way through the checkpoint, then flagged down an oversized golf cart driven by an airport employee. Bartlett, Stone, and Dino boarded the vehicle, and, on Bartlett’s instructions, it began to move down the long corridor.

Morgan walked along the people mover, dodging other travelers who were happy to stand still and ride. He tried to move quickly, without looking as though he was hurrying. He checked his watch; seven minutes to go.

Bartlett was on the radio, summoning officers to the three gates with departing flights to Spain. “I want two men at each gate, scrutinizing every male passenger even remotely resembling the photograph.” He turned to Stone. “If he’s bound for Spain, we’ll get him at the gate.” His radio squawked, and he held it to his ear. “Say again?” He turned back to Stone. “One of my men has found a raincoat, a shirt, and a trilby hat, discarded in a men’s room. A British passport bearing the name Sir William Mallory was in the raincoat pocket.”

“Costume change,” Stone said. “This guy is starting to do everything right.”

The cart pulled up to a gate, and Stone got out, followed by Dino and Bartlett. The first person he saw was Stan Hedger.

Hedger walked up to him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.

“It’s a public airport; none of your business.”

“Have you seen Lance Cabot?”

“Is that why you’re here? You’re looking for Cabot?”

“That’s right.”

“So is half the country, from what I hear.”

“I thought you had gone back to the States, Stone. Why are you involved in this?”

“It’s personal,” Stone said. “See you around, Stan.”

“Come on,” Dino said, “we’re wasting time.”

Morgan reached his gate two minutes before the flight was scheduled to take off. He went to the counter for a seat assignment.

“You’ll have to hurry, Mr. Trevor,” the young woman said. “We’re about to button up the airplane.”

“I’ll hurry,” Morgan said, and made for the boarding ramp. There was no line, and a moment later he was strapping himself into a first-class seat.

Stone, Dino, and Bartlett made their way quickly from gate to gate, coming up empty-handed at each one.

“That’s it,” Bartlett said. “We know he’s in the airport, but we don’t—”

“What are other likely destinations for fugitives?” Stone asked.

Bartlett shrugged. “Could be anywhere. There are more than a hundred international flights taking off in the next two hours; I don’t have the manpower to cover them all, and I’m not about to shut down this airport, unless I get a personal call from the Home Secretary.”

“Shit,” Stone said.

“My sentiments exactly,” Bartlett replied. “But let’s keep looking.”