Jeffrey. “It’s not safe carrying this kind of cash around. You could call your bail bondsman and have him pick it up here. And you know, a cashier’s check is as good as cash. He could then go into one of our Boston offices and get cash if that’s what he’s after. It would make it safer for you.”
“He said cash, so I’m giving him cash,” Jeffrey said. He was actually touched by Dudley’s concern. “His office isn’t far,” he explained.
“And you’re sure you don’t want to count it?”
Jeffrey’s tension was beginning to evoke irritation, but he forced a smile.
“No time. I was supposed to have this money in town before noon. I’m already late. Besides, I’ve been doing business long enougk with you.” He packed the money into his briefcase and stood up.
“If I’d known you weren’t going to count it, I would have taken a few bills from each packet.” Dudley laughed.
Jeffrey hurried out to the car, tossed in the briefcase, and drove out of the parking lot with extra care. All he needed was a speeding ticket! He checked the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t being followed. So far so good.
Jeffrey drove directly to the airport and parked on the roof of the central parking building. He left the parking stub in the car’s ashtray. When he called Carol from wherever, he’d tell her to pick the car up.
With the briefcase in one hand and the suitcase in the other, Jeffrey walked to the Pan Am ticket counter. He tried to behave like any businessman going off on a trip, but his nerves were shot; his stomach was in agony. If anyone recognized him,
they’d know he was jumping bail. He’d been specifically told not to leave the state of Massachusetts.
Jeffrey’s anxiety went up a notch every minute he waited in the ticket line. When his turn finally came, he bought a ticket for the New York to
Rio flight as well as one for the 1:30 P.m. shuttle. The agent tried to convince him it would be far easier to take one of their late afternoon flights directly to Kennedy. That way Jeffrey wouldn’t have to take the bus from LaGuardia to Kennedy. But Jeffrey wanted to go on the shuttle. He felt the sooner he got out of Boston, the better he would feel.
Leaving the ticket area, Jeffrey approached security’s X-ray machine. There was a uniformed state police officer casually lounging just beyond it. It was all Jeffrey could do not to turn around and run.
Right after he hoisted his briefcase and then the suitcase onto the conveyer belt and watched them disappear into the machine, Jeffrey had a sudden fright. What about the syringes and the ampule of morphine? What if they showed up on the X-ray, and he had to open the briefcase? Then they’d discover the stacks of moneyl What would they think of all that cash?
Jeffrey thought about trying to reach into the X-ray machine to yank his briefcase back, but it was too late. He glanced at the woman studying the screen. Her face was illuminated eerily by the light, but her eyes were glazed with boredom. Jeffrey felt himself being subtly urged on by the people waiting behind. He stepped through the metal detector, eyes on the policeman the whole time. The policeman caught his eye and smiled; Jeffrey managed a crooked smile in return. Jeffrey looked back at the woman studying the screen. Her blank face looked suddenly puzzled by something.
She had stopped the conveyor belt and was motioning for another woman to look at the screen.
Jeffrey’s heart sank. The two were examining the contents of his briefcase as it appeared on the screen. The policeman hadn’t noticed yet. Jeffrey caught him yawning.
Then the conveyor belt started again. The briefcase came out, but the second of the two women stepped over and put her hand on it.
“Is this yours?” she asked Jeffrey-
Jeffrey hesitated, but there was no denying it was his. His passport was in it.
:’Yes,” he said weakly.
‘Do you have a Dopp Kit in there with a small pair of scissors?”