David Becker stood in the deserted concourse and felt his legsgo weak. He eyed the girl before him and knew his search was over.She had washed her hair and changed clothes—maybe in hopes ofhaving better luck selling the ring—but she'd neverboarded for New York.

Becker fought to keep his cool. His wild journey was about toend. He scanned her fingers. They were bare. He gazed down at herduffel. It's in there, he thought. It's got tobe!

He smiled, barely containing his excitement. "This is goingto sound crazy," he said, "but I think you've gotsomething I need."

"Oh?" Megan seemed suddenly uncertain.

Becker reached for his wallet. "Of course I'd be happyto pay you." He looked down and started sorting through thecash in his billfold.

As Megan watched him count out his money, she drew a startledgasp, apparently misunderstanding his intentions. She shot afrightened glance toward the revolving door… measuring thedistance. It was fifty yards.

"I can give you enough to buy your ticket homeif—"

"Don't say it," Megan blurted, offering a forcedsmile. "I think I know exactly what you need." She bentdown and started rifling through her duffel.

Becker felt a surge of hope. She's got it! he toldhimself. She's got the ring! He didn't know howthe hell she knew what it was he wanted, but he was too tired tocare. Every muscle in his body relaxed. He pictured himself handingthe ring to the beaming deputy director of the NSA. Then he andSusan would lie in the big canopy bed at Stone Manor and make upfor lost time.

The girl finally found what she was looking for—herPepperGuard—the environmentally safe alternative to mace, madefrom a potent blend of cayenne and chili peppers. In one swiftmotion, she swung around and fired a direct stream intoBecker's eyes. She grabbed her duffel and dashed for the door.When she looked back, David Becker was on the floor, holding hisface, writhing in agony.