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The limo was where I expected it to be in the VIP parking lot of the airport serving the capital city of the forgettable southern state located between somewhere and somewhere else—for those of us from the West Coast, most of these states down in this region are forgettable.

The Limo wasn't parked up at the well-lit side near the terminal but back toward the end of the lot and close up to some bushes on the side away from the terminal. No one was near the vehicle, but the doors were unlocked. After looking around to be pretty sure I wasn't seen, I quietly opened a rear door almost pushed into the bushes and slipped into the back seat. There was a pile of luggage on the floor near the center and I crawled over that and pulled a blanket over my head. This would have all been easier to accomplish—and not so warm and stuffy—if I hadn't been wearing a three-piece suit. These were the instructions, though. Blend in. Do what you have to do and not be caught at it.

Some minutes later I heard the driver's door open and we were off. So far so good.

After an eternity of bone-rattling rapid speed, probably on an expressway from the sound of vehicles passing and being passed, and then slowing down to the stop-and-go movement of an urban area, the limo stopped. The driver exited the vehicle. Several long minutes of silence. Then I heard the rear door on the other side of the limo from where I was hidden and the vehicle settle as at least one person got in ...

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