by V. M. Burns
The lines for international travel were long and slow, but I felt like I could endure anything now.
I passed my passport and boarding pass to the TSA agent with a smile and answered all questions with more exuberance than the situation required. I grabbed a bunch of plastic bins and removed my laptop, cell phone, shoes, keys, and pretty much everything else that I imagined would set off the sensor and waited my turn to walk through the screening device.
“Samantha, help.”
I turned at the sound of my name and saw Irma being escorted around the scanning devices.
“What in the name of God is going on now?” Nana Jo said.
Two burly female TSA officers approached us. “Are you with that lady?” They pointed at Irma.
“Yes,” I said quietly, “we’re all traveling together.”
“You’re going to need to come with us,” one of the women said.
“But what about . . .” I glanced at the bins with my personal belongings.
“Bring them with you,” the woman said.
I grabbed my bins and walked barefooted around the screenings and followed the women to a TSA screening room, where Dorothy and Ruby Mae were waiting along with Irma.
“What’s going on?” Nana Jo asked.
“Your friend here mentioned she had an explosive device on her body. Now, we’re going to need to search all of you.”
We glared at Irma.
Irma shrugged. “How was I supposed to know that hunky TSA officer I was flirting with couldn’t take a joke.”
Chapter 4
“Holy invasive procedures,” Dorothy said, straightening her clothes as she entered the waiting room with the rest of us. “The least they could have done was buy me dinner first.”
No one was in the mood for jokes, but I gave Dorothy a half smile.
“My last gynecology exam wasn’t that thorough,” Ruby Mae mumbled.
Dorothy was the last of the group to finish the examination, so we were all waiting. Irma had been the first to finish and was closest to the door. Nana Jo was uncharacteristically quiet, but periodically she cast a look in Irma’s direction that would have withered a less self-absorbed person.
Ruby Mae tossed her yarn in the trash. Apparently, the TSA was afraid she was hiding something dangerous in her yarn and had unraveled the entire skein and left a tangled mess of bright yellow wool.
Nana Jo glanced at her watch. “We’ve got to run if we’re going to make our flight.”
The search took longer than I would have thought possible, and I had an overwhelming desire to shower, but it was finally over, and I was ready to push this episode to the back of my brain.
We took one last glance at our boarding passes to confirm the departure gate and off we raced. Because the cosmos wasn’t done torturing me, our gate was at the farthest point from the TSA screening office as possible. In addition to racing through the airport, we had to take a shuttle, an escalator, and then run another stretch, dodging people, luggage, strollers, wheelchairs, and carts. I didn’t have time to think about the fact that my grandmother and her friends from the retirement village were in better shape than me and had passed me like I was standing still. Even Irma, who was the least athletic of the group, ran like a gazelle in spite of the six-inch hooker heels she wore. I decided to chalk her athletic prowess up to the fact that she weighed less than one hundred pounds and lumbered along.
I didn’t stop to look at the gate signs. I merely followed my ears.
“You listen here, I don’t give two flying figs about your schedule,” Nano Jo said. “If you close that door before my granddaughter gets here, I’ll scream bloody murder and sue your airline for discrimination against the elderly.”
“I’m coming, Nana Jo,” I yelled as I turned the corner and caught sight of my grandmother standing in the jet bridge. One foot on the plane and the other on the bridge, she had both arms extended and was blocking the door from closing and the bridge from being removed.
I flung my boarding pass to the attendant standing at the entrance, who reluctantly scanned it and passed it back.
Only when I had checked in did Nana Jo move to allow the bridge to be removed. As I entered the plane, I saw two armed security guards, who I suspected had been called to physically remove my grandmother.
Nana Jo and I sidled past the spacious first-class passengers, who were sipping champagne, and the slightly less spacious business class seats down to the cramped economy seats. We arrived only to find that our seats were already taken.
The flight attendant hurried down the aisle to help. One glance at all of the boarding passes indicated that because we were late arriving, the airline had given our seats away.
This was my last straw. My nerves were gone, and I had nothing left. I opened my mouth to ask the flight attendant if there were any other seats available. However, what came out was a wail and then more tears. I’m not one of those women who can cry cute. Nor am I a woman who can have an intelligent conversation while crying. I could tell by the stricken look on the flight attendant’s face that the words that were in my head bore no resemblance to the ones coming out of my mouth. When one of the pilots came down the aisle to find out what the delay was, I cried even harder.
A third attendant who walked and talked with the authority of leadership came, assessed the situation, and took charge. She picked up my bags. “Follow me.”
Nana Jo and I followed her back down the aisle to the front of the plane. However, rather than ordering us off, she pushed aside the curtain that separated first-class from the rest of the plane and pointed to two seats.
The relief made me cry harder, but Nana Jo pushed me down into a seat and fastened my seatbelt. “She’ll be fine, now. Thank you.”
I tried to say, “thank you,” but I’m sure it was merely a gobbled mess.
The attendant leaned down and whispered to Nana Jo, “Does she have any medication?”
“No, but I think a glass of champagne might help to steady both of our nerves.”
The woman nodded and hurried to get our drinks.
When she returned, I had calmed down enough to thank her. “I’m sorry, it’s just been such a horrible day.”
She nodded. “Well, you can sit back and relax now. We’ll be taking off shortly.”
Indeed, the plane started to back away from the gate as she spoke.
Nana Jo turned to me. “You all right now?”
I took a sip of champagne and hiccupped. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Stress and nerves.” She leaned back. “Although, I have to admit, your nervous breakdown managed to get us some great seats.”
“I didn’t have a nervous breakdown.” Even I could hear the petulant denial in my voice.
Nana Jo ignored it. She waved away my protests with her menu. “Whatever it was, I’m not complaining. Those appetizers in the VIP lounge have worn off, and I could eat a horse.”
I rested my head on the seat back and gazed out the window as the plane sped down the runway and lifted into the air. In a few hours, I would be in England, researching my next book. A book that would one day be on the bookshelves at libraries and bookstores just like mine. I took a deep breath, said a prayer, and pulled the notebook from the bag near my feet.
“Dashed bad timing,” Lord William said and puffed hard on his pipe.
The Marsh family listened intently, ears glued to the wireless of the BBC newscast.
Lady Penelope sat on the sofa. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief in one hand, while the other hand clasped tightly to her cousin, Lady Clara.
Lady Elizabeth, who was a fast knitter, was knitting much more slowly than normal, as she stopped frequently and gazed around the room.
The only person unaffected by the broadcast was Captain Jessup, who sat smoking in a chair near the window, legs crossed and smiling as though he didn’t have a care in the world.
When the announcer finished, Lady Penelope let out a gasp and cri
ed softly.
“Darling, please don’t upset yourself,” Victor said and hurried to his wife’s side. “It doesn’t sound as though anyone was injured.”
Lady Penelope sniffed. “It’s just so awful. I don’t understand why anyone would deliberately set off a bomb in a tube station. Innocent people could have been hurt.”
Captain Jessup chuckled. “That’s the point.”
Lady Penelope looked up. “What?”
“No point in setting off a bomb unless you intend to hurt people, is there?” Captain Jessup smiled.
“Barbarians.” Lady Penelope hopped up and rushed from the room.
With clenched fists, Victor took a step toward Captain Jessup. “Was that really necessary? She shouldn’t be upset in her condition.”
Detective Inspector Covington placed a hand on his friend’s chest to restrain him.
Captain Jessup threw back his head and laughed. “Sorry, old man. I had no idea your wife was so skittish.”
Victor looked as though he would throttle the man with his bare hands. However, after a long pause, he turned and left the room.
Lady Clara seethed. “You really are an odious, ill-mannered oaf. Can’t you see she’s worried sick?”
Captain Jessup shrugged. “Actually, the bombs were left in the luggage office. If they’d really intended to harm people, they would have left them on the trains.” He flicked imaginary ash from his pants and continued to smoke.
“Don’t be daft.” Lady Clara stood and paced in front of the fireplace. “It’s not just the IRA bombs. It’s the dreadful state of the world. First, that lunatic in Germany is running roughshod over a small independent nation like Austria and annexing lands from Czechoslovakia simply because there are German-speaking people there, and now we’ve got to worry about bombs within our own empire. It’s got every decent person worried.”
If Captain Jessup noticed the dig, he ignored it. He smoked with an amused smirk on his face. “That’s why women shouldn’t concern themselves with politics. You’ve got this all wrong.”
Lady Clara stopped pacing. She folded her arms across her chest and stared at the captain. “Oh, have I indeed? Well, why don’t you explain it to me then?”
He puffed on his cigarette. “You see, Hitler is simply fulfilling a plan that has been in the works for ages. It’s the circle of life. These smaller nations have been given aid and allowed to create laws, which have made them believe they’re in control, when in fact, they are mere puppets.”
Lady Clara stared at the man as though he’d lost his mind. “Puppets?”
“Certainly, they’re being used by the Jewish bankers and politicians who control their movements with their fat purse strings, but they were never intended to prosper and be independent, while the Aryan—” He broke off and took a few deep breaths. “Never mind, I doubt you would understand.”
Lady Clara narrowed her eyes. “I understand a lot more than you could possibly think.” She turned and marched out of the room.
Chapter 5
“Sam. Sam.”
Nana Jo followed up her words with a slight shake.
I lifted my head and opened my eyes. When I focused, I saw the flight attendant standing nearby holding a tray with a steaming towel.
“Take one of these and wipe the drool from your face and get the sleepy crackers from your eyes,” Nana Jo prodded.
I took the steaming towel and did as I was told. I’d learned over the years that resistance was futile anyway. When I finished, Nana Jo passed me one of the two cups of coffee she had on her seat tray—the one without lipstick around the rim.
“Coffee,” I moaned and gulped the brew down, ignoring the heat as it coursed down my throat and seeped through my veins.
Nana Jo smiled. “Feeling more human?”
I nodded.
The flight attendant walked down the aisle carrying a coffeepot and topped our cups.
I raised an eyebrow and glanced at my grandmother. “Surprisingly perfect timing. You must have threatened her.”
“I wouldn’t call it a threat. I merely suggested her life would be much more pleasant if she kept the coffee flowing.”
I had to admit it was great advice.
The pilot mumbled something over the speaker that sounded a lot like the teacher from the Charlie Brown television shows, except it was much more staticky. However, the flight attendants began collecting cups and other trash items, so I gathered we were close to landing. With just a slight hesitation, a flight attendant reached for Nana Jo’s cup. Thankfully, the elixir had tamed the savage beast, and she leaned back and nodded. The attendant quickly gathered our cups and the now lukewarm towels.
I glanced at my watch. It was two in the morning in Michigan. After checking my cell phone, I adjusted my watch for the current time, which was six hours later. I expected to feel tired after only a couple of hours of sleep. However, the excitement of being in another country was enough to rejuvenate me.
Nana Jo and I left the plane and waited at the terminal for the others. After what felt like hours, Dorothy, Ruby Mae, and Irma all joined us.
“You three look exhausted,” Nana Jo said without an ounce of tact.
“Oh, shut up,” Dorothy griped.
“What’s wrong with her?” Nana Jo asked Ruby Mae.
Ruby Mae grunted. “Normally, I’d stick up for you, but I’m siding with Dorothy on this one.” She rubbed her back. “We weren’t in those spacious first-class reclining seats.”
“Well, don’t blame me.” Nana Jo glanced in my direction.
“It’s not my fault. They gave away my seat and—”
Dorothy waved away my explanation as she bent over and stretched. “I’m not blaming you, Sam.” She looked at Nana Jo. “It’s just my nearly six-foot body has been crammed into a seat the size of a recycle bin for the past eight hours.”
I heard a crack, and she smiled and stood up.
Ruby Mae, normally very congenial, fanned herself. “And I just spent the last eight hours with a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound man snoring like a buzz saw and practically lying in my lap.” She shook her head. “How is it that those seats recline so far back in such a confined space.”
No one had an answer, so we merely shook our heads.
Irma was the only one who seemed like her normal, flirtatious self. She smiled. “Well, I met the nicest man from Denver.” She held up a scrap of paper. “Artie’s going to call me when he’s back in the States.”
Nana Jo rolled her eyes. “Come on, I need to use the ladies’ room, and then we have to get our luggage and make our way to Customs.”
It was surprisingly comforting to see that the line for the ladies’ room in London was as long as those in the United States.
Nana Jo sighed as she took her place. “Some things are universal.”
By the time we made it to baggage claim, the majority of familiar faces from our flight had gathered around a luggage carousel. Like lemmings, we followed the herd to the carousel and waited. And waited. And waited. Slowly, all of the other passengers grabbed bags and wandered away, leaving us and a bleary-eyed businessman still staring at the carousel. The last bag, a large navy-blue roller, tumbled out. Dorothy and the businessman both reached for the bag, but Dorothy was faster. With one swing, she hoisted the bag off the carousel and placed her carry-on and purse over the handle.
Dorothy smiled. “Well, at least one of us will have clean clothes.”
Nana Jo stuck out her tongue. Ruby Mae rolled her eyes, and Irma mumbled something that sounded like jolly green witch, but I couldn’t be sure because she broke out into a coughing fit.
Dorothy pulled her bag along as we headed toward the Baggage Claims office. The businessman who had been standing nearby grabbed Dorothy by the arm.
He sputtered something that sounded like German. He waved his hands and then reached for the suitcase, which also now had Dorothy’s purse and carry-on.
Dorothy swatted away his hand. “Watch it, bub.”
“Listen, I don’t know who you think you’re messing with, but I want to warn you I’m not some old woman who you can push around.”
The altercation was drawing a crowd, which included some uniformed men who looked like airport security. “What’s the problem here?”
The businessman prattled on in German for about thirty seconds. His face deepened from rose to a deep merlot. His last gesture was to reach over and grab the suitcase.
“That’s it.” Dorothy squatted, reached over, and grabbed the man’s arm. With a twist of her body and his arm, she hoisted the man over her shoulder and tossed him flat on his back. Still holding his arm, she dropped down and put her knee to his chest.
The man looked dazed and then squealed like a pig.
The security guard stood by in shocked amazement for a split second and then launched into action. “Steady on.” He pulled out a radio and sent an SOS for help in baggage claim.
Within seconds, a group of uniformed men and women swarmed the area like locusts.
Several of the officers attempted to pull Dorothy off the now crying man.
Nana Jo and I pushed our way through the group.
“Wait. Please. Stop.”
It took three men, but they managed to pull Dorothy to her feet. At close to three hundred pounds, she was a big woman. Years of martial arts training also meant that most of her weight was muscle rather than fat. When she stood, she continued to grip the man’s arm. The man lay on the ground writhing in pain and then let out a blood-curdling scream. The officers tried to pry Dorothy’s fingers loose, but she had a tight grip and clamped down like a vice.
Nana Jo shoved through the group and hauled back and slapped Dorothy. “Dorothy, snap out of it. Calm down and let go of that poor man’s arm right this minute.”
Dorothy’s neck snapped back, and she glared at Nana Jo, whose hand had left a white imprint around the increasing red that rose up her neck. She blinked several times, and the haze seemed to clear from her eyes. She shook her head and then released the squirming man’s arm.
