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terminal a Western Airlines flight destined for Seattle, after a brief layover in Chicago, would also be boarding shortly. Jason licked his lips, a trickle of apprehension playing through his nervous system. He swallowed a couple of times to work through the dryness in his throat. As he finished his coffee, he thumbed through the newspaper, halfheartedly observing the collective aches and miseries of the world that poured forth from every colorful page.
    As he glanced over the headlines, Jason noted a man striding resolutely down the middle of the concourse. He was a six-footer with a lean build and blond hair. He was dressed in a camel-hair overcoat and baggy gray pants. A tie identical to Jason's peeped out at his neck. Like Jason, he carried a leather briefcase and black laptop computer case. In the hand holding the computer case he also held a white envelope.
    Jason quickly rose and walked to the men's room. It had just reopened after having been cleaned.
    Entering the last stall, Jason locked the door, hung his overcoat on the door hook, opened the leather briefcase and extracted a large collapsible nylon bag. He pulled out a four-by-eight-inch mirror.
    He pushed it against the wall of the stall and it held due to its magnetized back. He next pulled out a pair of thick black glasses to replace his wire-rimmed pair, and a paste-on black mustache. A short-haired wig matched the inky darkness of the mustache. The tie and jacket came off, were stuffed in the bag and replaced with a Washington Huskies sweatshirt. The baggy pants came off, revealing matching sweats underneath. Now the tennis shoes did not look so out of place. The overcoat was reversible and, instead of camel, it became dark blue in color. Jason checked his appearance again in the mirror. The leather briefcase and the metal case disappeared into the nylon bag along with the mirror. He left the hat on the hook behind the stall door. Unlocking the door, he stepped out and walked over to the sink.
    After washing his hands, Jason studied his new bespectacled face in the mirror. In the reflection the tall blond man he had seen earlier appeared in the doorway, moved over to the stall Jason had just exited and closed the door. Jason took a moment to carefully dry his hands and swipe at his new hair. By that time the man had emerged from the stall, Jason's hat perched on his head. Without his disguise Jason and the man could have passed as twins. Leaving through the exit door, they momentarily collided. Jason quickly mouthed an apology; the man never looked at him. He quickly walked away, Jason's plane ticket disappearing into his shirt pocket, while Jason tucked the white envelope into his coat.
    Jason was about to return to his seat when he looked over at the bank of phones. Hesitating for an instant, he hurried over and dialed a number.
    "Sid?"
    "Jason?" Sidney was simultaneously dressing and feeding a struggling Amy Archer and stuffing files into her briefcase. "What's wrong? Is your flight delayed?"
    "No, no, it leaves in a few minutes." He fell silent as he caught his altered reflection in the shiny face of the telephone. He felt embarrassed to be talking to his wife while disguised.
    Sidney struggled with Amy's coat. "Well, is anything wrong?"
    "No, I just thought I'd call, to check on things."
    Sidney let out an exasperated grunt. "Well, let me give you the rundown: I'm late, your daughter is being uncooperative as usual, and I just realized I left my plane ticket and some documents I need at work, which means instead of having thirty minutes to spare I've got maybe ten seconds."
    "I'm ... I'm sorry, Sid. i ..." Jason's hand tightly gripped the nylon bag. Today was the last day. The last day, he kept repeating to himself. If anything were to happen to him--if for some reason, despite the precautions, he didn't make it back--she would never know, would she?
    Sidney was seething now. Amy had just spilled her bowl of Cheerios all over her coat and a good part of