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“Hey, Derek!” Biff called. “Wait a minute.”

Biff got up and overtook his new friend.

“’Fraid Uncle Charlie would spot you in a second if you wore that hat. He knows I never wear one.”

Derek took off his hat and handed it to Biff.

“Another thing,” Biff continued. “Your coat. Looks too European for me to be wearing it. Let’s change.”

Derek doffed his suit coat and put on Biff’s sports jacket. Then he left the plane.

Biff, grinning in anticipation, waited until almost everyone was off the plane. Then, wearing Derek’s coat and hat, he deplaned and walked toward the terminal.

As he stood at the entrance to the terminal, it took several moments for Biff’s eyes to adjust from the bright glare of the outside sun to the soft light of the terminal’s interior. He looked about, trying to spot his uncle. He finally saw him, to the right, standing in front of a cigar counter, smiling as he talked to Derek.

Biff was starting toward his uncle and Derek when two men entered the terminal from the street side. They looked around quickly, saw Biff, and came hurriedly over to him.