"Police! Stand where you are and raise your hands!"

Four members of an Interpol squad wearing bulletproof vests and helmets with guns deployed were walking swiftly toward Victor Seimovich and his bodyguards. I reached into his jacket, but a forceful whisper made him stop. All of them raised their hands. Another squad was moving up from behind, surrounding the two men directing the medical pod. One by one, everyone but Victor was separated from the group, handcuffed, and searched. No one was talking except Victor.

Victor was annoyed and furious. Annoyed that these idiots would try this and cost him many days and much money. Furious because he paid people to tell him about things like this. But it had been some time since he'd had the proper resources to keep the money flowing into the right pockets. That would change soon. The thought of how it would change made him look back at the pod that held Belinda.

"My men are cooperating, and I'm unarmed. I'm lowering my arms. I'm an old man, and they're coming down whether I want to or not. Can we please be civilized about this? Some mistake has been made. I am traveling home with my niece, who is very ill. I have all the proper paperwork."

An agent with a Captain's badge approached with a second agent. "I'm sure you have some paperwork, Mr. Seimovich, and don't worry, we'll look at it. But we also have some outstanding warrants for your arrest in parts of Europe."

Victor shrugged. "You may, but those little pieces of paper are worthless now. I'm a reformed man. Ask my friends in the United States."

The female agent smiled at him. She knew something. "We did ask them. Ten minutes ago, when we first spotted you on UK soil. Our FBI contact says there is no reason for you to be here. You're supposed to be in the Eastern US, being a good boy and staying put."

"Eh? A technicality. Paperwork was filed; I'm sure they haven't put it in all the right places yet. As I said earlier, my niece is very ill, and we are traveling to see a specialist in Prague. There are no warrants for my arrest in Prague. Or the UK, for that matter. I think you are reaching for things that will burn your fingers."

The Captain let Landi have fun verbally sparring with Victor. He considered it both a reward and a training exercise. "Your flight plan didn't include a landing at Heathrow."

"Ask my pilot. He insisted on landing. Something about a fuel gauge: airplanes without fuel are very dangerous. I can't risk my grand-niece's life in a faulty plane. And I know you are going to wag a finger at me over my armed bodyguards. My friends in the USA feel better if I am protected. We still have much to talk about. Ask them, please. We can straighten this out without it blowing up in your face. You are just doing your job, keeping people safe. I understand that. I like to be safe, too."

Someone called over from where the half-dozen bodyguards had been stripped and searched. "These guys look legal. Paperwork is from the US Department of Justice, giving them permits to carry guns in their capacity of guarding a protected witness."

Victor relaxed a bit. "See? All legal."

Landi was beginning to be worried. "Except you're traveling and not in the US."

Victor spread his hands and shrugged. "I travel, they travel with me. You travelled from France to see me today? I'm sure the UK didn't wag its fingers at your guns. Let us compromise. Take your pictures, take the guns, we will re-board our plane and wait for repairs, then leave for Prague. Everyone is happy." He nodded to the pod. "Or, you make my life difficult. Put my niece in danger, a very sick minor traveling on a medical visa with myself as her guardian, and I will come for your jobs, and you will be sweeping streets the rest of your life. There is no need for this."

"I suppose your niece is so sick she needs her doctors with her? Where are they?"

Victor was wary of this question, wondering why she asked. "Her US doctors are in the US. She will have new doctors in Prague."

Landi held out three pictures. "Are these her ex-doctors?" Victor looked at the pictures, put on his spectacles, then looked at them again. "Could be? They look familiar, but then, I'm an old man."

"Those three doctors are wanted for numerous terrorist activities. We've been looking for them for years. I find it strange they were working for you."

Victor waggled a finger. "Did I say they worked for me? They worked for John Sabbatino, who cares for my niece. I have nothing to do with them. If they are bad people, I suggest you arrest them. I will even call my good friends in America and ask them to help. I want nothing to do with them and do not know them. Now, I think I should be leaving. Unless you have an actual charge to hold me on?"

An agent approached Landi and handed her paperwork taken from Victor's aid. "We checked on these. This paperwork claims he's her guardian, but the courts have no record of Victor Seimovich being named Belinda Seimoviche's guardian. These are fake."

Victor's face was blank. Landi looked at the paperwork, folded it, and handed it back. "Probably another 'technicality,' but it ties in nicely with the two people we have who will testify you conspired to kidnap a minor not in your custody, drug her, and traffic her to another country outside of US jurisdiction. I'm curious how we picked up two of your doctors just as you were landing. What was the deal? Pick them up and travel together? They seemed nervous that you were here to make sure they stayed silent. I don't expect an answer. Just wanted you to know."

"Put Mr. Seimovich in handcuffs, please; we have enough."

Victor glared at the indignity of being handcuffed, but his mind was racing, trying to understand what was happening. Doctors? Here? But why? He felt the invisible hand of someone pulling strings.

"I cannot be separated from my niece!"

The medical technicians were working on the pod. One yelled over to Landi. "Who is supposed to be in here? How old?"

The Captain walked over. "Belinda Sabbatino. White, female, age 17. Why?"

"That isn't who's in here. We have an injured female of Indian heritage, roughly 50 years old, with dark skin. She has a nasty head injury that the pod is taking care of, and the readings show the pod had to treat her for alcohol poisoning as well."

The pod was opened. Landi looked at the woman and then at the photo. "We completed our set, Captain. That's Dr. Nihalia, AKA Jaya Bakshi, originally from Delhi. Wanted in connection with bio-terrorism and illegal genetic experiments." She laughed and walked back over to Victor.

"Let's add aiding and abetting international terrorists to your charges, and I'm sure we'll come up with several more."

Victor was stunned and suddenly looked much older. "No...Belinda. Where is Belinda?"

"Not your problem, Mr. Seimovich. Now, let's find you a nice cell to sit in for the next few years."

Landi and Captain Delaque stayed with the pod as the rest of the squad hauled off Victor and his entourage. Landi talked with the technicians and had the pod resealed before an ambulance arrived to take it where the good doctor would be cared for and interrogated. As she walked back, the Captain was just finishing a phone call; he turned to Landi, smiling.

"Inspector Deville says to congratulate you on a successful operation. He also hopes you didn't use up all of your luck."

"Oh?"

"He thinks we deserve a reward and wants to ensure we get it. He'll be here with additional men, legal teams, and medical personnel in two hours. He doesn't want anything to go awry with this bust. He also mentioned he hadn't been to his club in years and would be delighted to accompany us and smooth our path of any problems. We'll be dining with him at the Garrick Club tonight, and at 10 p.m., we all have slots in their 'casual' poker tournament."

"Looking forward to it, Captain."