by Ian Andrew
The silent young man stepped out of the car and walked over to the woman. He spoke a few words before walking a short distance away and lighting up a cigarette.
She in turn hustled over to the Camry, threw her case in the back and got in the driver’s seat. Jacob estimated she was about thirty, she wore make-up but not overly applied and, had he met her in a bar, he’d have considered her pretty. Not plain, not stunningly attractive, just pretty. He knew she reeked of Poison.
Chapter 26
Hong Kong International Airport. Friday 27th November.
Jacob was by no means an expert on perfumes but he knew the smell of this one. His first girlfriend, back when he was growing up in Chelmsford, had thought it was the height of luxury. On every birthday, Christmas or Valentine’s Day during the two years they had dated, she had wanted Poison. He remembered saving up the money he got from his after-school job in Waitrose, and buying her the heart-shaped bottle with the fancy crystal top. He could still see the deep green shade of the box, but most of all he had never forgotten the smell of the heavy scent. It was what, at the age of sixteen, he’d breathed in so deeply while losing his virginity and it was what, at the age of seventeen, he’d breathed in when he caught her shagging Mickey Ronaldstone in the back of the Odeon Cinema. He couldn’t watch Pirates of the Caribbean or smell Poison without being reminded of those days. He was whisked back from his memories of Tanya Brown by the slap of an envelope against his chest.
“Jacob, I’m Kelsey. Take this and give me your wallet. Put your passport in there,” she said, pointing to the car’s glove box.
He couldn’t quite place her accent. It was a mismatch of English, maybe American, or even Australian. He put the envelope between his legs and did as he was asked. He saw that she took everything from his wallet, including the photo of the Asian woman, then without warning, leant across him and put all the items on top of the passport in the glove box. Shutting it and pushing herself back up by placing her hand on his thigh, she said, “You’re a hell of an improvement on the usual. Such a shame I’m probably twenty years too old for your liking. We could have made the most of our time together.”
His emotions, stretched from the last few days, didn’t have the capacity to muster a response. He just stared back at her blankly and wondered how his world view of decency could have been turned inside-out and upside-down so drastically in such a short time.
Kelsey just gave a weak, ‘ha-ha’ that carried no real emotional content. He saw her eyes, a pale, washed out blue, didn’t carry any hint of amusement. “Don’t worry handsome, I’m not judging. Hell, I’m a ways partial to the young ‘uns myself. It’s just that most of the men I escort on the Flight Path are old, fat, bald, or rancid. Some of them, all four at once with bad teeth as a bonus. You look like a God compared to them. So chin up. Don’t be so scared.”
Jacob still couldn’t think of an adequate response. Instead he opened the envelope she had given him. Inside was a South African passport in the name of Jacob York, who apparently had been born in South Africa, with no other details given. Behind the passport was a small wad of Hong Kong dollars, some US dollars, three credit cards, an RAC membership card and a card for an online betting firm. There was another UK driving license with yet another different address, Maple Avenue in Heybridge, Essex. He held it up and looked at it. He knew Heybridge, he had friends there. He’d cycled to and from the village when he’d been in his teens, before Tanya had come along with her Poison and distracted him.
“Do you actually speak?” Kelsey asked.
He looked away from the license, “Yeah. Just been a long few days. I’m a bit tired. Sorry. I’m Jacob,” he put the license down on his lap.
“Yep, I know that my big friend. Apology accepted. I’m sorry too, ‘cos I got held up with some complications in Shenzhen and now we need to get a skedaddle on. So, listen quick and get your head in the game. You are Jacob York, from Johannesburg but have been living in the UK for years. You flew into Hong Kong, with British Airways yesterday and stayed on a one night stopover at the Marriot Hotel,” she twisted around in her seat and pointed out the rear window, “It’s that building there. Okay?”
“Yeah okay,” Jacob said, hunkering down to see the hotel on the far side of the airport’s inner ring road.
“Now you’re heading out to Bali for a three-week holiday. You’ll be staying in the Hard Rock Hotel in a town called Kuta. Got it?”
“And am I?”
“Are you what?”
“Staying in the Hard Rock Hotel?”
She frowned, “No. Of course not. You’ll be in a safe house somewhere on the island. Handsome you may be, but smarts ain’t all there now, are they?”
Jacob ignored the insult, “So I’m travelling alone, no fake girlfriend photo or travelling companion?”
“Nope. Single guy going on a bit of an Asian adventure. You’d be amazed how many do it. But, when you say no travelling companion, I’ll be shot-gunning you on the journey. You play nicely, handsome, with the same rules as you should be used to by now, and we’ll get on fine. Don’t leave my sight, don’t do anything strange or unusual, clear?”
“Clear,” Jacob said.
“Good, now repeat back who you are, what you’ve been up to and where you’re going.”
Jacob did so and other than stumbling over the name of the town that the Hard Rock Hotel was in, he got through it to Kelsey’s satisfaction.
“Okay, I’m going to get our young chauffeur there,” she pointed out the window at the young man who was still smoking, “to drive us to the departure entrance. I didn’t get a chance to check us in online so we have to do it the old fashioned way and we need to get a shake on. Any questions?”
“Only what I know I’m not meant to ask, but where are you from originally?”
“Why do you wanna know?”
“No reason, other than your accent is sor- ”
Kelsey laughed and this time her eyes properly reflected the emotion, “Oh my accent is peculiar as hell. It’s a mismatch of everywhere. I was born and raised in Texas until I was fifteen, but since I escaped from the hellhole that was home, I’ve lived in a lot of different places. More than I can recall and some that I don’t want to. Anything else you’d like to know?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Great. Got to admit, I’m not. I’ve been on the go since four in the AM and I haven’t stopped.” She stepped out and shouted to the young man in Chinese. He dropped his cigarette on the ground and returned to the car. Kelsey got in the back, moving their bags and as soon as the driver was in she said, “Let’s go. I really need to pee.”
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The car dropped them off outside the entrance for departures and pulled away. Jacob thought, given Kelsey’s remark about needing to go to the toilet, she would avail of the first opportunity, but she didn’t. On reflection, he figured she would never have left him unescorted in the vast terminal building. Instead, she led him through the check-in procedures for Hong Kong Airlines and all the immigration and security procedures that he was becoming so used to.
Finally he followed her into the Hong Kong Airways VIP Lounge. It was plush and exclusive, just like the other two he had been in and he realised his thoughts on entering the French lounge had been correct. It was incredibly easy to become used to the level of service on offer. Each of the women behind the reception desk smiled, gave small bows of their heads and generally welcomed him like he was their long-lost and dearest relation. The waiters and waitresses couldn’t do enough, the food looked superb and the wine list extensive. It slightly saddened him to realise that, in only his third visit to a lounge like this, he was used to it all and bored by most of it.
Kelsey made her way to a row of two-seater tables next to the windows. The panoramic view of the aircraft apron perked him up. He’d always loved planes and the sight of at least five different airliners manoeuvring and taxying towards the main runway, at the threshold of which was a Korean Air 747 just abo
ut to start its take-off run, had him enthralled. So much so that he wasn’t looking where he was going and bumped into the rear of a seat occupied by a middle-aged woman.
With her book in one hand, she had just lifted her glass of wine with the other. The jolt to the chair forced a mini-tidal wave to slop up the sides of the glass. The shallow rim couldn’t contain it and a large ‘sploosh’ hit the table to her front. Jacob apologised immediately and beckoned to one of the waitresses to come over. The lady was busy balancing her book while lifting her phone that was still plugged into a USB power slot. She managed to rescue it from the advancing liquid. Once the efficient waitress had soaked up the wine with a pile of napkins, the lady looked round to Jacob. He apologised again and her stern expression, relaxed.
“Oh, don’t mention it, free top up service even at this time of the morning, ain’t it,” she said, in as Essex an accent as Jacob had, while giving a wink to the young waitress who dutifully went off to fetch a bottle of white wine. “No bones busted. Jus’ don’t fall on me ‘cos then there would be an’ I’d need a crane to lift you off,” she laughed and continued, “Where you from then?”
Jacob was aware Kelsey had sat down at a table further along, but was watching him closely. He stuck with his cover story.
“Heybridge.”
“Oh! Don’t think I’ve ‘eard of that. Where’s it at then?”
“Small village near Chelmsford. What about you?” he asked, knowing that he could always explain to Kelsey that he had to be polite.
“Oh I’m from up Saffron Walden way, luv. Small world init?” she laughed and reached out for her freshly refilled glass, giving him a small toast with it. “You off home then?”
“No, I’m going to Bali on holiday,” he said.
“Very nice. Well, enjoy yourselves,” she said, looking over and toasting Kelsey, before returning to her book.
Jacob sat down and Kelsey leaned in, “Smoothly done. You handled that well.”
“Thanks. But,” he looked over his shoulder at the woman before turning back around and leaning nearer to Kelsey, “you don’t think she’s police or anything, do you?”
Kelsey shook her head. “God no. There’s no way you’ve been followed or tagged. We’d not have gotten this far if you had been. Anyway, you bumped into her. Remember?”
“Yeah, right. Of course,” he said, happy that he had managed to stay in character.
“Are you hungry,” Kelsey asked.
“A bit.”
“Well, go and get whatever you want, then come back here, but make it quick.”
Once more he did as bid. As soon as he returned Kelsey said, “Normally, I get myself all squared-away and sorted out before I get to the airport, but this morning was a complete cock-up, so I’m busting and I can’t hold it anymore. So you just sit yourself down there and enjoy your food, I’m off for a pee.” She stood and headed down to the rear wall of the lounge, where a dark-purple door had the international symbol for a female toilet etched into it in gold.
Jacob looked around at the small row of ‘Free Internet’ iMacs he had passed as he came into the lounge, but all four were in use. The business centre, overflowing with PCs and which he’d also seen on coming into the lounge, was down at the far end and he’d never make it there and back. He figured Kelsey had chosen well when it came to where to sit and when to leave for the toilet. Frustrated, but resigned, he turned back to his plate of food just as the Essex woman passed him by.
“It’s all this free wine luv, goes right through ya. Here, would you be a dear and just keep an eye on me stuff, so no one nicks it?” she asked.
He looked round and saw a small carryon case next to her table.
“Of course,” he called after her as she walked to the end of the room and went through the dark-purple door.
He got up and walked back to her table.
“Yes,” he said under his breath when he saw her phone still plugged into the charging port. He looked around but no one in the lounge was paying him any attention. He grabbed up the phone and held his breath while he pushed the home button. The lock screen came up and he swept it sideways, hoping that his new friend from ‘up Saffron Walden way’ had no clue about telephone security and hadn’t locked her phone with a passcode. A home screen teeming with icons appeared. He looked up to the far wall. Another woman was going into the toilets.
The message icon was along the bottom of the phone’s home screen. He opened it and began a new message, remembering that he needed to add the country code for the UK. As he typed the thought dawned on him that he knew practically no one’s mobile number anymore. When he had been younger he had known lists of numbers, but he’d forgotten most of them because his phone remembered them for him. Nowadays he only knew two numbers by rote, his own, and his brother’s.
The door at the end of the lounge opened and his heart pounded as he looked up. A small Chinese woman appeared and turned towards the lounge’s exit. He checked the message and the number.
“For fuck’s sake,” he said quietly when he realised he’d added the country code but forgotten to delete the leading zero from the phone number. He tapped to edit it, but deleted the whole number.
“Fuck it.”
The dark-purple door opened again and once more his heart surged. A mother and baby came out and turned towards the lounge’s main seating area.
He looked back down, slowed his actions and took a breath. He retyped the UK country code and added Toby’s number, properly, without the leading zero. He reread the text and pressed send.
The little green line showing the progress of the ‘send operation’ crawled from one side of the screen to the other. “C’mon, c’mon.”
Finally it hovered millimetres from the end, teasingly, with the tiniest gap of white between it and completion.
“Come on,” he said, more loudly. At his prompt, the line leapt across the gap and completed its journey. There was a confirmatory tone, which sounded like a sigh.
“You’re not wrong,” Jacob said. He returned to the main message screen, swiped left on the message he had just sent and deleted it. Then he pressed the home button and then the on-off button briefly to send the screen back to darkness. He set the phone back on the table and returned to his seat. He was raising a glass of wine to his lips when Kelsey stepped back through the dark-purple door.
Chapter 27
Le Bourget Airfield, Paris. Friday 27th November.
Toby was asleep when the ping sounded on his phone. He reached for the dim light being given off by the new message notification. The clock on the screen showed 03:23 Central European Time. He read the first line of the message, threw aside the blanket that had been over him and sat up. “Guys!”
In the dim light he saw four blanketed shapes on the other couches around the room, doing much as he had. The door to the small lounge opened and the lights were flicked on. Kara stood in the doorway.
“We’ve got him,” Toby said holding up his phone.
“What’s it say?” Tien asked, wiping sleep from her eyes.
“Safe house is Bali. Dpt HKG 1225 ETA DPS 1735L”
“Bali. Fucking hell, how far away is Bali from here?” Kara asked, walking into the middle of the private passenger lounge. The room and the adjacent dining area, with its own 24-hour catering facility, were complimentary with the hire of the charter jet. Since their arrival on Wednesday night, they had turned the place into a mini operations room. Four laptops and two printers were on tables next to a wall that had a large map of the world stuck up on it.
“Where exactly is Bali,” Sammi asked, rubbing her hands through her hair and yawning.
There was quiet. Kara looked to each in turn. “Seriously, we have lifetimes of operational experience and none of us know where Bali is?” she asked.
“I know it’s a tropical paradise thingy Roberts made a movie about, but we’ve never fought a war there, so nope, I’ve no idea,” Dinger said.
“It’s somewhere in Indonesi
a,” Tien said, pushing her blanket aside and moving towards the computers. “One of my Mum’s friends went there for a wedding anniversary. That’s all I know.” She sat at a laptop and brought up a map. All of them looked from the screen to the large map on the wall.
Kara picked up a small red sticker and placed it on the tiny island, the shape of which reminded her of a greyhound in full flight. It nestled in the middle of a curving line of other islands. “Guess this is the famed Indonesian Archipelago,” she said and without any more prompting, Chaz and Sammi sat at two of the laptops, Tien walked to the other side of the room with a phone in her hand, Dinger headed to the canteen and Toby went out to a large storage hangar.
“HKG is Hong Kong and DPS is Denpasar,” Sammi called out as she typed into open search boxes. “Time difference is plus seven from us in Paris, so it’s currently 10:26 with him. Given the times he’s told us, he’s on a Hong Kong Air flight scheduled to leave at 12:25 and arrive into Bali, also seven hours ahead of us, at 17:35. Basically seven hours from now, give or take.”
Kara moved behind Chaz and watched him open a Google map and scroll out. Right hand clicking on Le Bourget Airfield he selected ‘measure distance’ then zoomed in and clicked on the airport in Bali. The number that came up was 7699.
“That’s in miles, Kara, so,” he paused and opened a new search window to do the conversion, “6690 nautical miles.”
He and Sammi looked up at her.
“We’re not even close, are we?” she asked.
Tien, her call finished, joined them, “Not even remotely,” she said. “The charter crew are up and on it. They’ll have the necessary flight plan approved in an hour, just like they promised us, but the pilot gave me a choice. The jet can either go at maximum speed but then we’ll need to refuel, or it can go for maximum cruise range and we get there in a single hop, but at a slower speed. Bizarrely, going slower, gets us there quicker because we miss out the fuel stop, but it’s only half an hour’s worth of difference.”
