Harmful Intent by Robin Cook

What if they showed up on the X-ray, and he had to open the briefcase? Then they’d discover the stacks of money! What would they think of all that cash?
    Jeffrey thought about trying to reach into the X-ray machine to yank his briefcase back, but it was too late. He glanced at the woman studying the screen. Her face was illuminated eerily by the light, but her eyes were glazed with boredom. Jeffrey felt himself being subtly urged on by the people waiting behind. He stepped through the metal detector, eyes on the policeman the whole time. The policeman caught his eye and smiled; Jeffrey managed a crooked smile in return. Jeffrey looked back at the woman studying the screen. Her blank face looked suddenly puzzled by something. She had stopped the conveyor belt and was motioning for another woman to look at the screen.
    Jeffrey’s heart sank. The two were examining the contents of his briefcase as it appeared on the screen. The policeman hadn’t noticed yet. Jeffrey caught him yawning.
    Then the conveyor belt started again. The briefcase came out, but the second of the two women stepped over and put her hand on it.
    â€œIs this yours?” she asked Jeffrey.
    Jeffrey hesitated, but there was no denying it was his. His passport was in it.
    â€œYes,” he said weakly.
    â€œDo you have a Dopp Kit in there with a small pair of scissors?”
    Jeffrey nodded.
    â€œOkay,” she said, giving the briefcase a push toward him.
    Stunned but relieved, Jeffrey quickly took his belongings to a far corner of the waiting area and sat down. He picked up a discarded newspaper and hid behind it. If he hadn’t felt like a criminal when the jury handed down its verdict, he felt like one now.
    As soon as his flight was called, Jeffrey pressed to get on. He couldn’t wait to get on the plane. Once he was on, he couldn’t wait to take his seat.
    Jeffrey was in an aisle seat fairly close to the front of the plane. With his suitcase secured in the overhead compartment and his briefcase tucked under his feet, Jeffrey leaned back and closed his eyes. His heart was still racing but at least he could now try to relax. He had just about made it.
    But it was difficult to calm down. Sitting there in that plane, the seriousness and irreversibility of what he was about to do finally began to sink in. So far, he hadn’t broken any law. But as soon as the plane crossed from Massachusetts into another state, he would have. And there would be no turning back.
    Jeffrey checked his watch. He began to perspire. It was one twenty-seven. Only three minutes to go before the door would be sealed. Then takeoff. Was he doing the right thing? For the first time since he’d come to this decision that morning, Jeffrey felt real doubt. The experience of a lifetime argued against it. He’d always followed the law and respected authority.
    Jeffrey began to shake all over. He’d never experienced such agonizing indecision and confusion. He looked at his watch again. It was twenty-nine after the hour. The cabin attendants were busy slamming all the overhead compartments, and the crashing noise threatened to drive him mad. The door to the cockpit was closed with a resounding click. A gate agent came onto the plane and gave a final manifest. All the passengers were in their seats. In a way he was ending the life he had always known, as surely as if he’d released the stopcock the night before.
    He wondered how running away would affect his appeal. Wouldn’t it make him appear the guiltier? And if he was ever brought to justice, would he have to serve extra time for fleeing? Just what did he plan to do in South America? He didn’t even speak Spanish or Portuguese. In a flash, the full horror of his action hit home. He just couldn’t go through with it.
    â€œWait!” Jeffrey shouted as he heard the sounds of the plane’sdoor closing. All eyes turned on him. “Wait! I have to get off!” He undid the