The sergeant nodded, but it was impossible to say whether it was with satisfaction or not. He asked: “Will you let me know when he can talk?” and went out on the doctor’s nod of assurance. But he did not immediately go back to the others. He went to the exit doors, which opened electronically, and out to his car, parked across the driveway from the taxis. No one else was in it. He slid into the seat and lifted the radio-telephone; soon he was talking to his lieutenant, who had detailed him to this inquiry. He reported lucidly in his gentle voice, and the lieutenant replied:
“So what next?”
“So next we look for a man who jabbed the needle in this guy’s arm, a man who could be anywhere in the Metropolitan area of New York, which means one of thirteen million people. And the man we want could have flown out of Kennedy in any one of the three hundred and seven flights which left in the past three hours. If we had a body, we might look. If we have a big heist, we could look. What do you want me to do, Manny?”
“You’ve got judgment,” the lieutenant said. “Why don’t you use it.”
“That’s what I’ll do,” the sergeant said.
“Luigi,” said the lieutenant in a sharper voice : “Are you telling me you’ve got ideas?”
“Feelings,” Sergeant Luigi Tetano retorted. “You mean a hunch.”
“I mean I would like to know more about this Thomas G. Loman and what he’s had stolen from him.” When he received no answer he went on: “We’ve been so blinded by hi-jacking we’ve forgotten the other things that happen. How many passengers from Kennedy complain that their luggage is stolen before they get to the baggage claim?”
“Too many,” the lieutenant replied.
“And La Guardia?”
“Too many.”
“And sometimes the passengers who lose their bags are called to the telephone on phoney messages and sometimes they go into the rest rooms and sometimes they make a telephone call and sometimes they’re met by their families and the reunion takes a lot of time. So when they reach the baggage claim, no baggage.”
“Right,” the lieutenant confirmed.
“It’s wrong,” said Luigi Tetano. “This time they dope the guy so they can take his hand baggage as well.”
“Luigi,” the lieutenant observed, “it doesn’t have to be the same gang. Okay, there is a gang operating and okay, we haven’t found it, but this could be different. It is different in one way, because of the fact the guy was doped. So it could be a different job altogether, different people — oh, come on you know what I mean.”
“Sure,” said Luigi. “It could also be the same mob going a step further.”
“So it could be.”
“Do I get to follow my nose?” asked Luigi.
“Sure.”
“Wherever it takes me?”
“Sure,” the lieutenant answered.
“That’s fine,” breathed Luigi. “That’s very good, Manny. I’ll call you again.”
He replaced the receiver and switched off, then sat back with his eyes half-closed. This made him look a little younger: baby-faced. Overhead a four-engined aircraft roared, others seemed to be landing and taking off every minute. Taxis were arriving, picking up passengers, going off into the complex of roads which served the mammoth airport. Dusk was falling, and lights were beginning to show in the sky and on the ground. He opened his eyes wide and looked at his watch : it was seven-fifteen. He got out of the car and went back to the room where the others were sitting, and as he opened the door the Security Officer was saying:
“Should I go look for him?”
“I want to go home,” complained the pilot. “I’ve got a date.”
They looked round as he entered — including the young doctor, who was sitting against a table, hands at the side. Sergeant Luigi Tetano ignored the others and looked at him.
“He come round, Doc?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll come and see him.” Luigi looked round at the others and went on in the same flat voice: “If anyone wants home, okay. But maybe I’ll have to call him back. And maybe we’ll need to see all members of the crew of that flight. In half an hour I should know. Can your date wait for half an hour?” He looked at the pilot.
“My wife is a patient woman,” answered the pilot.
Luigi and the young doctor went across the crowded terminal building to the hospital, and heard the nurse in the private room, talking; protesting. When the two men entered, the long-faced young passenger was on his feet, and he proved to be very tall and lean. He was standing on one leg, pulling his trousers on, pyjamas were loose on the floor. The nurse was saying :
“You’re crazy to behave like this. You ought to rest.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the young man drawled. “I always was kind of crazy.” But he dropped on to the side of the bed, obviously with weariness, and there was a worried expression on his face : “I sure could drink some coffee.”
“If you will stop acting like a big boy —”
“Could you use some coffee?” the doctor asked Luigi. “Sure could.”
“Honey, why don’t you go and get us some coffee from the restaurant,” suggested the young doctor. “They
