Catch Me If You Can Page 0,26

do that. No problem, no problem," Wright said curtly in answer to some query from the tower. "Take over, I'll be right back," he said to Evans, getting out of his seat and leaving the flight cabin.

I knew then with certainty that I was in trouble. No captain ever vacated his seat while taxiing save under extreme circumstances. I managed to peer around the cabin-door combing. Wright was engaged in a whispered conversation with the chief stewardess. There was no doubt in my mind that I was the subject of the conversation.

Wright said nothing when he returned to his seat. I assumed a casual mien, as if nothing was amiss. I sensed that any overt nervousness on my part could prove disastrous, and the situation was already castastrophic.

I was not surprised at all when the jetway door opened and two uniformed Dade County sheriff's officers stepped aboard. One took up a position blocking the exit of the passengers. The other poked his head in the flight cabin.

"Frank Williams?" he asked, his eyes darting from man to man.

"I'm Frank Williams," I said, getting out of the jump seat.

"Mr. Williams, would you please come with us?" he said, his tone courteous, his features pleasant.

"Certainly," I said. "But what's this all about, anyway?"

It was a question that also intrigued the three flight officers and the stewardesses. All of them were looking on with inquisitive expressions. None of them asked any questions, however, and the officers did not satisfy their curiosity. "Just follow me, please," he instructed me, and led the way out the exit door. His partner fell in behind me. It was a matter of conjecture on the part of the flight crew as to whether or not I had been arrested. No references had been made to arrest or custody. I was not placed in handcuffs. Neither officer touched me or gave the impression I was being restrained.

I had no illusions. I'd been busted.

The officers escorted me through the terminal and to their patrol car, parked at the front curb. One of the deputies opened the right rear door. "Will you get in, please, Mr. Williams. We have instructions to take you downtown."

The officers said nothing to me during the ride to the sheriff's offices. I remained silent myself, assuming an air of puzzled indignation. The deputies were clearly uncomfortable and I had a hunch this was an affair in which they weren't really sure of their role.

I was taken to a small room in the detective division and seated in front of a desk. One of the deputies seated himself in the desk chair while the other stood in front of the closed door. Neither man made an effort to search me, and both were overly polite.

The one behind the desk cleared his throat nervously. "Mr. Williams, there seems to be some question as to whether you work for Pan Am or not," he said, more in explanation than accusation.

"What!" I exclaimed. "Why that's crazy! Here's my ID and here's my FAA license. Now you tell me who I work for." I slapped the phony documents down on the desk, acting as if I'd been accused of selling nuclear secrets to the Russians. He examined the ID card and the pilot's license with obvious embarrassment and passed them to the second officer, who looked at them and handed them back with a nervous smile. They both gave the impression they'd just arrested the President for jaywalking.

"Well, sir, if you'll just bear with us, I'm sure we can get this straightened out," the one behind the desk observed. "This really isn't our deal, sir. The people who asked us to do this will be along shortly."

"Okay," I agreed. "But who are these people?" He didn't have to tell me. I knew. And he didn't tell me.

An uncomfortable hour passed, more uncomfortable for the officers than for me. One of them left for a short time, returning with coffee, milk and sandwiches, which they shared with me. There was little conversation at first. I acted miffed and they acted like I should have been acting-like they wanted to be somewhere else. Oddly enough, I grew relaxed and confident as time passed, dropped my pose of righteous indignation and tried to ease their obvious discomfiture. I told a couple of airline jokes and they started to relax and ask me questions about my experiences as a pilot and the types of planes I flew.

The queries were casual and general, but of the kind