“Well, do you want to go to Phuket?” he asked again. I couldn’t make out the accent…Australian, or maybe South African. He could have been from New Zealand.

“Yes,” I answered hesitantly.

He leaned in close. He smelled of sweat. “Best come with me,” he hissed in my ear. His breath was as foul as his body odor.

He turned and started to walk away. I stood there watching, not moving, unsure of what to do. He turned back and scowled and shook his head sadly.

“You coming or what?” he called out.

I didn’t move.

“Your loss.” He turned and started walking again.

I knew what the smart thing to do was. I ran after him instead.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I followed behind him, close but at a safe distance, as he walked through the crowded terminal. What could happen here with all these people around? He stopped at a door that read “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.” He looked back at me, glanced around him, and then opened it. He held the door open and gestured for me to enter. I stopped at the threshold.

“Should I be going in there? It says ‘Authorized Personnel’—”

“I’m authorizing you.”

Hesitantly I stepped in. We were behind the scenes in what looked like a baggage area. There was nobody to be seen, and I suddenly felt very uneasy. But as he kept walking, I kept following. What else could I do? I dropped a few more feet back, just in case I had to run. My mind started to race, thinking about who this man was and how stupid it was to follow him into a deserted place.

He stopped and turned around. “You’d better put this on,” he said, and he handed me the jacket he’d been carrying.

“I’m…I’m not cold,” I mumbled.

“But you do want to get to Phuket, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Then put on the jacket.”

I took it from him. It was a cheap vinyl rain jacket. There was something written on the back. I stretched it out. In big, white, fluorescent letters it said “RESCUE.”

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation at the help counter. You need to get to Phuket, and I’m going to Phuket.”

“You’re going to drive me?”

He laughed. “Do I look like a flipping taxi driver?” he asked.

“No.”

“I’m a pilot. I’m going to fly you.”

Actually, he looked more like a taxi driver than he did a pilot.

“But if we’re flying, why aren’t we going out to the tarmac?” I asked nervously.

“We are. It’s just that they wouldn’t let you out there through the main doors. They’re checking everybody’s ID. We’re gonna have to sort of smuggle you out through the side door. Put on the jacket and come with me.” He started to walk away.

I slipped it on and ran and caught up to him.

“By the way, if anybody asks you, tell them you’re a doctor.”