The pilot appeared next, carrying a bulky red canvas duffel bag with a mesh panel on each end. Behind the pilot, the copilot, or possibly the flight engineer, stepped out of the plane toting William’s black rolling suitcase. Somehow he’d not only claimed the right to deplane first, but he’d enlisted the assistance of the entire crew. They’d probably jumped at the chance to be shed of him. Whatever the motivation, William seemed to take the personal ministrations for granted.

As far as I could tell, he was fine—ambulatory at any rate. He had the pilot place the canvas duffel in the wheelchair, which he manned himself, pushing it toward the terminal. When he caught sight of me, he winced and placed a hand at the small of his back as though stricken with sharp pain. The copilot/flight engineer extended the handle on William’s suitcase and tagged after him dutifully, pulling it along behind. As William and his merry band approached the terminal, I moved out to meet them and took over responsibility for the suitcase, murmuring my thanks to the crew.

William paused and leaned his weight on the handles of the wheelchair. “Let me catch my breath,” he said. “It’s been a rough trip. Three stops and just as many changes of aircraft.”

I suspected he was hoping to generate a touch of sympathy, which I offered obligingly before he could up the ante. “You must be exhausted,” I said.

“Not to worry. I just need a moment.”

“Why don’t you take advantage of the wheelchair and let me push you? It’ll save you a few steps.”

“No, no. I like to do for myself . . . while I’m able,” he added. “You might bring the car around. I doubt I can make it as far as the parking lot. I’ll rest on one of the benches out front.”

“What about checked bags?”

“This is it.”

I decided I might as well take the duffel as long as I was heading for the car. I could put it in the trunk and then swing around and pick him up. I grabbed the satchel by the handle and lifted it from the seat of the wheelchair. It was heavier than I’d anticipated and the contents shifted as though he’d packed a bowling ball without securing it properly. I said, “Whoa! What have you got in here?”

I set it down and leaned over so I could peer through the mesh. A hissing white cat, topped with patches of caramel and black, put its ears back and spat. I jerked away, my heart hammering. This cat was the equivalent of the one in horror movies, jumping out when you’re expecting the guy with the bloody butcher knife. “Where did that come from?” I asked, patting my chest.