Drachman's Dilemmas

Agent Philips gave me a hundred dollars cash, five twenties thumbed off of an appreciable roll, during the final taxi to a remote terminal. The jet stopped and the turbines wound to a halt. We stood. He escorted me to the exit door.

I kept the drink. 'I'm not done. Can I take it with me?' 'Fine,' he said after an irritated pause. 'A shuttle will drive you to the main terminal. You can take a Metro car back to your apartment. One hundred dollars will cover it.' Since I still had several of Cindy's twenties, I was not worried. I rolled up the money from Agent Philips, careful not to touch the middle three bills. I wet my lips with the scotch-based drink and the exit door swung open.

'Sure glad to assist you civil servants,' I said to no one in particular. I walked down the stairs to the tarmac and climbed aboard the shuttle. During the short ride to the domestic terminal, I finished the drink, careful not to touch the glass with my fingers. I thought of his fingerprints on the money and glass. The agent had blundered.