Passenger List

by John Scott Dryden

  PSYCHIC WITCH: Everyone, you have to get off now!

  PASSENGER FILMING: There she goes!

  [applause]

  PASSENGER FILMING: Oh, man. That was … that was nuts. Hope she’s wrong.

  8

  The sign above the door read ‘Psychic Witch’ in one of those seventies fonts that looked like the shapes made by a lava lamp. Adding to the sense of times past, a mystical all-seeing eye had been painted in glittering gold in between the two words.

  Kaitlin stood on the sidewalk and surveyed the large window on which had been etched ‘Your Future Revealed’. Thick crimson drapes hung on either side. It was too shadowed to see much inside. This was the Village. There had always been a lot of weird here.

  Kaitlin felt a hint of disgust. She had no time for those who preyed on other people’s grief, promising to contact their departed loved ones, telling them what they wanted to hear in order to prise cash out of them. But she had to set all that aside. If this woman had fought to get off the plane, it was because she undoubtedly knew something. You didn’t have to be a psychic to see that.

  What it was that she knew and how she learned it – that was the mystery. It would take a subtle touch, but Kaitlin felt she was getting better at this. Once she’d got the video footage from Dylan, she’d done enough research to set her trap.

  She went down the steps and pushed the door open. A bell jangled. In the gloomy interior, she breathed in the sickly-sweet scent of incense. The woman she’d come to meet glided through curtains from the rear of the store. The psychic witch was thin, with leathery skin and heavy make-up. She looked much calmer than she’d been when she was scrambling to get off Flight 702.

  ‘Hi, I’m Kaitlin,’ Kaitlin announced, trying to keep her voice light.

  ‘Hello, dear. So lovely to see you. You’re exactly how I pictured when I heard your voice on the phone.’

  The woman held out a hand towards a small table with two chairs. Kaitlin sat.

  ‘I’m sorry for the lateness of the hour,’ the psychic said. ‘My business has seen quite the uptick in the past few weeks. That video of me got posted to a Reddit something or other and … well. Many people have been seeking my services.’

  ‘So, do I call you Psychic Witch? Is that your name?’

  ‘You can call me Mia.’

  The woman had a theatrical air, good at performing. It would take a delicate line of questioning to cut through that and get to the truth.

  ‘OK. So, you’re the only one who was on that plane who’s still here. Who’s still alive.’

  ‘Goodness me, yes, I suppose that’s true.’ Her eyelids fluttered half shut. ‘It’s strange, I’ve tried to contact them.’

  ‘Contact who?’

  ‘The passengers. All of those people who were on the flight. I’ve tried to find them in the other world, but I can’t.’

  ‘The other world?’

  ‘The in-between space. When people die, it can be a difficult adjustment. They don’t always know that they’re dead. They end up lost. Reliving scenes from their lives, creating a comfortable landscape around themselves. Only when they accept that they’re dead can they move on. Cross over to the other side.’

  Kaitlin nodded, hoping her blank face showed none of her thoughts. ‘And until they do, you talk to them?’

  ‘Usually. Manhattan is full of the restless dead. I talk to spirits every day. But the souls on that flight – they haven’t crossed over, but they’re not here either. They’re not anywhere.’

  ‘Maybe they’re in the sea.’

  Mia wafted a hand over the table. ‘Did you know that you have a guardian? We all do, but I can see yours. Right behind you.’

  ‘A guardian?’

  ‘You were close to your brother, weren’t you?’

  Kaitlin stiffened. She didn’t want to go there. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You are halves of a whole. Together in birth, but not in death. That isn’t good. The universe prefers balance. And now you’re unbalanced.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’

  ‘Yes, you do.’ Mia closed her eyes. ‘But – oh, I see. It was already unbalanced, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘There was hurt between you. A fresh wound over an old scar. You’ve always been carrying his burden and now it’s even heavier.’

  Kaitlin felt her unease harden. ‘That’s not why I’m here. Why did you want to get off the plane?’

  ‘You’ve seen the video.’

  ‘Sure. But I’d like to hear it from you.’

  Mia leaned across the table and stared. ‘I had a feeling. I’ve learned to trust my feelings. Do you trust your feelings, Kaitlin?’

  ‘I’m not sure I’d be sitting here if I did.’

  ‘You don’t believe in what I do?’

  ‘I don’t think I understand what you do,’ Kaitlin replied, choosing her words carefully. ‘Or what you claim to do, anyway.’

  ‘I read people. Sense their auras, their pasts, their futures. I talk to spirits. Or, rather, they talk to me.’

  ‘And what do they say?’

  ‘The plane wasn’t safe.’

  ‘The spirits told you that?’

  Mia leaned back, resting the tips of the fingers of one hand on her brow. ‘No, no, it wasn’t the spirits. It was an intuition. One that settled deep into my bones. It was … overwhelming. That ominous feeling.’

  Kaitlin forced a neutral face, but she felt sure it looked fake. All of the passengers on 702 were dead and this woman was weaving a ludicrous fantasy.

  ‘You just got on the plane and felt nervous?’

  Mia narrowed her eyes. ‘Kaitlin, if you don’t believe in what I do – which you clearly don’t – then why are you here? The video should tell you everything you need to know.’

  ‘I need answers,’ Kaitlin said, her voice hardening. ‘And I have pieces of the story – more pieces than the official investigation bothered to look at – but I need to put it together.’

  ‘Let me help. I want to help.’ Mia put her head back and screwed her eyes shut tight. ‘Don’t be disturbed. I’m going into a trance. In my mind, I’m going back to that day. Sometimes this brings up details that my conscious mind doesn’t recall. Speak softly, if you will. Any negativity dooms the process.’

  Kaitlin stifled a sigh.

  ‘It’s cold,’ Mia began after a long moment. Her voice was lower, almost a growl. ‘Cold air blasting from the vent. I try to switch it off. It isn’t working.’

  ‘Who is around you?’ Kaitlin asked, keeping her voice low. ‘Anyone who stands out?’

  ‘The congressman.’

  ‘Congressman Harris?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one. He’s in business class. He’s come back to talk to someone. I think a journalist. The moment the congressman came down the aisle, the journalist pulled out his phone to record it, but Harris just shook his hand. He’s looking very smug. Smiling, glad-handing, but … There’s something wrong with his aura. A darkness to it.’

  Though she was sceptical, Kaitlin felt herself drifting into the spell Mia was weaving.

  ‘There’s a couple sitting across the aisle. A man and a woman,’ Mia continued. ‘She’s sweating. It’s so cold, why is she sweating? The man is trying to make her comfortable. He’s asking the stewardess for water.’

  Wendy LaPeer.

  ‘Who is sitting next to you?’

  ‘An Arab gentleman. Charming. He asks if I wouldn’t mind moving so his wife could come up and sit next to him. She’s white. But she’s sitting in a middle seat and I have merinthophobia.’

  ‘What’s merinthophobia?’

  ‘The fear of being restrained. Planes these days – the seats are so close together that being in the middle is like being tied up.’

  ‘So, you stay where you are?’

  ‘Yes. The man becomes very icy. He shoots daggers at me – like I’m being inconsiderate for not moving. He calls out, “I’m sorry, Chrissy, but we can’t s
it together.” Very passive-aggressive.’ Mia shuddered. ‘I feel dread, coming over me like a thick fog. I know in that moment that the plane’s heading to disaster. I try to warn them. They won’t listen. They won’t listen!’

  Mia jolted from her trance. She looked around as if she were surprised to find herself back in her store. Kaitlin eyed her, trying to decide how much of this was theatre.

  After a moment composing herself, Mia stuttered, ‘At least the doctor was probably able to sit next to his wife.’

  ‘The doctor?’

  ‘The man sitting next to me. He was a doctor. Did I not mention that?’

  ‘He told you he was a doctor?’

  ‘He had a folder from the University of Damascus in Syria. I asked him about it and he said he was a doctor conducting research there.’

  ‘What kind of research?’

  ‘Something on immunology. He didn’t go into it. That’s when he asked me if I’d move.’

  Kaitlin felt a twinge. Was Mia sending out a subtle clue? A doctor. Immunology. Some kind of viral threat.

  ‘Where did the feeling of dread come from?’ Kaitlin asked. ‘The doctor? Or the congressman?’

  ‘I’ve learned not to question these feelings, just to follow them. Everyone on that plane was doomed. I could feel it in my bones.’

  ‘But you said that Congressman Harris had a dark aura about him.’

  ‘Yes. Something insidious. It’s possible the feeling came from him. Perhaps he had less than honourable intentions. Or perhaps someone was trying to hurt him.’

  ‘You think it’s possible he was being targeted?’

  ‘Anything is possible, dear. But surely there are easier ways to kill a congressman.’

  Kaitlin studied Mia’s face. She made a good play of sincerity. And she’d flagged up two potential lines of inquiry: an immunology doctor, hinting at disease spread, perhaps, and an attempt on the life of a member of congress.

  What does she know?

  ‘I tried. I tried to tell them and no one would listen,’ Mia was saying. ‘They wrote me off as a nut job. That’s not my fault. It’s not my fault the plane went down. It’s not my fault that no one believed me.’

  Time to move this on. She’d given the psychic witch enough rope.

  ‘What were you doing in London, Mia?’

  The other woman’s nose twitched. ‘I see. You suspect I’m involved somehow.’

  ‘Why were you in London?’ Kaitlin pressed.

  ‘I was in Europe on a business trip.’

  ‘I’d like to show you something.’ Kaitlin pulled out her phone and swiped to a news channel video. She’d become good at this. She’d done her research.

  ‘I don’t need to see the plane footage again, Kaitlin. I’ve seen it far too many times. I lived it.’

  ‘This isn’t the plane video.’

  Kaitlin pressed play. A scene from the International Criminal Court in The Hague rolled. The judge was saying, ‘The court will rise for sentencing.’

  ‘You recognise that man?’ Kaitlin pointed to the craggy-faced figure in the dock.

  Mia’s face darkened.

  ‘Slobodan Begovic, former Croat–Bosnian general – one of six commanders incited for mass war crimes. This is his trial six months ago at the International Tribunal.’

  ‘Mr Begovic. Would you please stand?’ the judge said.

  ‘I will not. I do not accept the jurisdiction of this court,’ the general growled. ‘I reject the ruling of this court. You cannot put me in prison.’

  Onscreen, Begovic uncapped a small vial of liquid and threw it back.

  ‘Monsieur, what are you doing?’ the judge inquired.

  Begovic pushed his chin out with defiance. ‘I have taken poison. You will not imprison me.’

  Kaitlin studied Mia’s face as the sudden commotion in the court played out on the phone.

  ‘Why are you showing me this?’ Mia said in a wintry voice.

  ‘You were there, weren’t you?’

  ‘And you saw for yourself – I’m not in that video.’

  ‘But you were at The Hague. The general was your client.’

  ‘I’d left by the time Begovic departed this existence.’

  ‘Did you know he was going to do it?’

  Mia shook her head with vehemence. ‘I’d have warned the court had I known. He may have been a client, but he deserved the sentencing he was given.’

  ‘What were you doing there?’

  ‘Helping Mr Begovic to contact his mother in the next life. He wanted to say goodbye.’

  ‘Right.’ How much more of this could she take?

  ‘The general was in a great deal of pain. And he wanted to say goodbye to someone whom he loved dearly. He wanted to ask forgiveness. Who am I to deny him that chance? Isn’t that what we all want?’ Mia continued, passion edging her voice.

  ‘Not all of us have committed genocide.’

  ‘I don’t discriminate when it comes to putting a soul to rest. Mr Begovic got closure.’

  Kaitlin tugged the phone away. The first time she stumbled across the video, she heard alarm bells. After listening to Mia, they were still there.

  ‘How did you even get involved with someone like that?’ Katilin asked incredulously.

  ‘I’m very good at what I do. Word travels fast.’

  ‘How do people know about you at The Hague?’ Kaitlin probed. There was something buried here, she was sure of it.

  ‘I wasn’t always a psychic by trade, Kaitlin. I used to live and work in Europe.’

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘If you were able to find out what I was doing before getting on that plane in London, I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself.’

  ‘Trust me, I will. You’re hiding something.’

  Had the general warned Mia that the plane was in danger? That was her current theory. And Mia had used that warning to bolster her earning potential as a psychic. She put up enough of a show to ensure her performance onboard was recorded and uploaded. If that was even remotely true, Mia was colder and more cynical than Kaitlin had ever imagined. She could have saved them all.

  She could have saved Conor.

  ‘All this talk about the congressman and the doctor,’ Kaitlin continued, her emotions running away with her. ‘You’re creating distractions.’

  ‘Distractions from what?’

  ‘From you. You knew the plane was doomed, you work with criminals, or—’

  ‘So that means I must be involved?’ Mia sneered. ‘You want there to be a reason for why I knew about the plane. For there to be some massive conspiracy. But there isn’t. The formal investigation proved that.’

  Kaitlin felt her chest tighten. She didn’t want to hear this again.

  ‘The investigation was closed too soon. As far as I know, they didn’t even look into your work in the Netherlands. There has to be a logical explanation for what happened. A real one.’

  ‘And you think I’m that explanation? That I conspired to bring down a plane, boarded that plane, only to make a spectacle of myself and get taken off? That’s your logical explanation?’ Her smile broadened. ‘Digging into this won’t bring your brother back, Kaitlin. You need to accept he’s gone and move on with your life.’

  Kaitlin snorted. ‘Everyone keeps telling me that. Not until I find out the truth.’

  Mia leaned across the table, her eyes widening. ‘You’re afraid to know the truth. Because the truth might involve your brother.’

  ‘What? That’s insane. He didn’t do anything. He had nothing to do with this.’

  ‘Your brother was Conor Le. I remember seeing his name in the news. Saving the world from what would have been the worst cyberattack in history. That was him, correct?’

  Kaitlin felt her simmering annoyance with this fake start to bubble over. ‘I’ve indulged you long enough.’

  ‘Why are you so angry, Kaitlin?’

  ‘Because you’re a phony! This entire thing – the news, the investigation �
� it’s all a lie.’

  ‘And you’re the one who’s going to uncover the truth?’ Mia mocked.

  ‘No one else is doing it!’

  ‘And that will help you to put your brother to rest? Purge him from your life?’

  ‘I’m not trying to purge Conor.’ The witch was trying to push her buttons, Kaitlin knew that. And she was succeeding. Why couldn’t she stop rising to the bait?

  ‘You’re swallowed in grief and anger. It surrounds you, suffocates everything bright in your aura. If you let it, it’ll consume you.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Don’t you have anyone to share this pain with? You can’t carry it alone.’

  Kaitlin flinched. ‘I’m not alone.’

  ‘Excuse me for saying so, but you seem very alone at the moment. Where are your parents? Surely they can help you to carry this burden.’

  ‘They’re dealing with their own pain. I have things under control.’

  ‘How about Conor?’ Mia interrupted. ‘Did he have someone he loved?’

  ‘Yes, but, we don’t – we don’t talk much. I don’t know him that well,’ Kaitlin stuttered.

  Don’t let her get to you.

  ‘Just tell me what you know,’ Kaitlin snapped.

  ‘Nothing that I saw or heard will help you. It’s the souls you need to worry about, and those souls aren’t anywhere to be found. Conor isn’t resting yet. I don’t know where he is. But you won’t be able to find rest until he does.’

  She’s playing you. Don’t fall for it. Why are you such an idiot?

  ‘Come and see me,’ Mia urged. ‘Perhaps together we can find him in the spirit realm – help both of you to move on.’

  ‘Now you’re trying to squeeze money out of me? Yeah, I think it’s time to go.’

  Kaitlin stood and marched towards the door.

  ‘You have to confront this grief, Kaitlin,’ Mia called after her. ‘Trying to solve a mystery that isn’t there is just a distraction. It won’t help Conor’s soul be found.’

  Kaitlin wanted to press her hands over her ears. Instead, she kept walking.

  Nor will paying a crackpot to pretend to talk to spirits.

  ‘Don’t go down this path, Kaitlin,’ Mia continued. ‘If you keep going, I see nothing but darkness in front of you.’