Jeffrey took a seat and set his briefcase on his lap. He still had to catch his breath. The next stop was the central terminal, serving Delta, United, and TWA. That’s where Jeffrey got off. Dodging traffic, he ran over to the taxi line. As before, there was a considerable number of people waiting.
Jeffrey hesitated for a moment, running through his alternatives.
Marshaling his courage, he walked directly to the taxi dispatcher..
“I’m a doctor and I need a cab immediately,” he said with as much authority as he could muster. Even in emergency situations, Jeffrey was loath to take advantage of his professional status.
Holding a clipboard and a stub of a pencil, the man looked Jeffrey up and down. Without saying a word, he pointed to the next cab in line. As Jeffrey hustled in, some of the people queued up grumbled.
Jeffrey slammed the taxi’s door. The driver looked at him through his rearview miffor. He was ‘ a young fellow with long, stringy hair. “Where to?” he asked.
Hunching low, Jeffrey told him just to drive out of the airport. The cabbie turned around to look Jeffrey in the eye.
‘I need a destination, man!” he said.
‘All right-downtown.”
“Where downtown?” the cabbie asked irritably.
“I’ll decide when we get there,” Jeffrey said, turning around to peek out the rear window. “Just go!”
“Jesusl” the driver murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. He was doubly irritated to get such a short fare. He’d been waiting in the pool for half an hour and had hopes for a run to some-
place like Weston. And on top of the short fare, his passenger was a weirdo or maybe worse. When they drove past a police car at the far end of the terminal, the guy lay flat across the backseat. Just what he needed: a weirdo on the lam.
Jeffrey lifted his head slowly, even though the cab had to be well beyond the squad car. He turned and peered out the rear window. No one seemed to be following. There were certainly no sirens or flashing lights. He turned around and faced forward. Night had finally fallen. Ahead lay a sea of bobbing taillights. Jeffrey tried to clear his head enough to think.
Had he done the right thing? His reflex had been to flee. He was understandably terrified of Devlin, but should he have run, especially with the policeman there?
With a shock, Jeffrey remembered that Devlin had seized his ticket, proof he had intended to jump bail. That was reason enough to toss him in jail.
What effect would his attempt to flee have on the appeal process? Jeffrey didn’t want to be around when Randolph found out.
Jeffrey didn’t know much about the finer points of the law, but this much he did know: with his bumbling, indecisive behavior he had managed to turn himself into a true fugitive. Now he would have to face an entirely separate charge, maybe a separate set of charges.
The cab plunged into the Sumner Tunnel. Traffic was relatively light, so they moved ahead swiftly. Jeffrey wondered if he should go directly to the police. Would it be better to own up and turn himself in? Maybe he should go to the bus station and get out of town. He thought about renting a car, since he’d have more independence that way. But the trouble with that idea was that the only car rental places open at that time of the night were at the airport.
Jeffrey was at a loss. He had no idea what he should do. Every plan of action he could think of had disadvantages. And every time he thought he’d reached rock bottom, he managed to find an even deeper quagmire.
TUESDAY,
MAY 16,1989
9:42 P.M.
“I got good news and I got bad news,” Devlin said to Michael Mosconi. “Which do you want to hear first?” Devlin was calling from one of the airport phones in the baggage section beneath the Pan Am departure gates. He had combed the terminal searching for Jeffrey, with no luck. The policeman had gone off to alert the other officers at the airport. Devlin was calling Mi- chael Mosconi for additional backup. Devlin was surprised that the doc was lucky enough to have slipped away.