Franklin’s plane landed in Denver at five thirty. With no baggage to worry about, he was up the ramp and out of the airport in five minutes.
Outside, the air felt hot but nothing like Phoenix. The lanes teemed with cars, doors slamming, people scurrying with luggage. Franklin looked around, getting his bearings. He spotted the area for taxis and walked over.
A Middle Eastern cabbie waved him to a car, and Franklin slid into the back seat. His hand reached for his pocket, feeling the bulk of his cell phone.
“Where are you going, sir?” The dark-eyed man surveyed him through the rearview mirror.
“St. Joseph’s Hospital.”
“No problem. I have you there fast.”
“Can you make a stop first?”
“Where?”
Franklin told him. “I won’t be long. I know what I want.”
On the plane Franklin had thought it over. He couldn’t just walk into this wild plan of his without backup.
The cabbie eyed him. “Whatever you say.”
He hit the accelerator and darted out into traffic.