Devlin sat back, reaching for the door handle.

“Yeah. You’re the guy on Channel Seven who reviews the movies. Some job you got. Do you ever get to meet any of those movie stars? The women, I mean?”

“Oh, sure.” Devlin let out a sigh in spite of himself. “Most of them are all right, but a few are pretty crazy.”

“Oh, yeah? Tell me about a crazy one.”

He swung onto the Long Island Expressway. He had forgotten about not wanting to go to the airport. Devlin leaned forward. “Let me have your paper there. I want to check the price of a stock. Then I’ll tell you all the stories you want to hear about the celebrities I’ve known.”

“What’s your name, man?”

Devlin didn’t answer. Who was the driver confusing him with? Devlin didn’t watch television anymore. He opened the paper and folded the front page back on itself.

“Come on, man, what’s your name?”

“I’m going to let you suffer,” Devlin said amiably.

“Come on, man, I’m not kidding you! Tell me your fucking name!”

“I don’t want to tell you my fucking name.”

“Oh, no,” the driver seethed. “I’m not puttin’ up with any of that shit! Gonna get you the fuck out of my cab like now!” He pulled over to the right lane, blowing the horn. Devlin took out his shield and his gun, then pulled the guy back by the collar to see them. “Take a good look. Do you know my name now?” Too subtle for the driver. Devlin pushed the barrel of the gun into the guy’s neck. He was wild-eyed with terror. “You just take me to the airport, or you’ll be in trouble the rest of your life.”

The driver squirmed as he stepped on the gas again and moved to the middle lane. “Fuck, why didn’t you say you was a cop in the first place?”

“Just shut up,” Devlin said. If Devlin took the newspaper, and had a little luck, the driver might never report the incident. He was going to know that Devlin’s destination was the TWA terminal. Devlin simply didn’t know JFK well enough to get out at another terminal and walk the rest of the way. They were in the airport, Devlin following the color-coded signs, before the driver spoke again. Devlin cut him off. “TWA. And if I ever see your ass again, I’m going to set it on fire.”

At the terminal, Devlin got out of the cab with the newspaper under his arm. He had the fare and a good enough tip ready. The driver said, “Let me have my paper.”

“Get another one.”

“None of that shit, man. Don’t take my fuckin’ paper!”

Devlin leaned in. “I need this paper! Don’t interfere with an officer!”