Breaking the Line

Elation and relief briefly sought to overwhelm my survival instincts, threatening to pin me to the spot.  The deserted nature of the corridor couldn't last.  Someone was bound to step out a door or around a corner soon.  If I was seen I'd be detained: if detained, I'd be in danger again.  I wrenched free of the giddiness, left the unconscious Narco where he lay and was climbing the stair to security within seconds.    I passed through the x-ray and metal detector gauntlet and into the boxy, cavernous upper terminal, ignoring “dufry” - duty free – shops and kiosks stocked with overpriced souvenirs and liquor.  My destination was the restroom where I hid in a stall, dreading a knock on the door from airport security officers asking questions about the man found knocked out downstairs, or the sudden bursting in of the flimsy stall door followed by the plunging stiletto of a Narco assassin.

Neither occurred.  A tinny voice announced my flight in Spanish and English.  I left my tiled refuge, boarded the plane, and flew back home, sleeping fitfully.


The office had idled smoothly while I was away.  They hadn't missed me and didn't need me much now.  That was all to the good.  I was anxious and pensive and couldn't really concentrate on business.

I took off after lunch and accomplished a couple of things that I hoped would ease my tension.

First, I called my lawyer.  I was uncertain whether or not to contact the police and report Scott's death.  There was a poker deck's worth of hands to consider: on one I worried that alerting the police would involve me in an international investigation requiring my return to Mexico and the very danger I'd just fled.  On another hand someone was bound to notice Scott's absence eventually and I was known to have traveled south with him; I didn't want to be considered a murder suspect due to my failure to report Scott's death.  On yet another, I was concerned that my failure to contact the Mexican authorities before I left was potentially a crime.  And what if I'd hit that guy in the airport too hard, killed him?  What liability might I face for that?  And on, and on.

I gave my lawyer a detailed account of the misadventure and made an appointment to see him the next day.  I'd follow his advice.

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