by Andy McNab
"OK."
She didn't seem fussed at all.
"Louise, when we leave here in a minute I want you to be really happy and I want you to hold my hand." With that I picked up the bag.
"OK, we're off!"
"To England?"
"Of course! But first of all we've got to get on the plane. By the way, you were great--well done!"
We got into the departures area at 11:30 a.m. Still several hours to go before the first possible flight, British Airways flight 216 to Heathrow at 5:10.
I went to a phone and, using the numbers in the airport magazine, called each airline in turn to check seat availability.
The British Airways flight was fully booked. So was United Airways 918 at 6:10, the BA at 6:10, and the United at 6:40. I eventually managed to find two spare seats on a flight with Virgin at 6:45, and gave all the details of Mr. Glazar, who was on his way to the airport right now. Payment was courtesy of the details for Big Al's plastic on the car rental form.
I wandered past the Virgin desk and found it didn't open until 1:30 p.m. One and a half hours to sit and sweat.
Christian Glazar was a little older than me, and his shoulder-length hair was starting to go gray. My hair was just below the ear, and brown. Thankfully, his passport was four years old.
To the delight of Kelly and the terminal's barbershop owner, I underwent a number one crew cut, coming out looking like a US Marine.
We then went into the travel store and bought a pack of painkillers that claimed to be the answer to female pains.
Judging by the list of ingredients, they were certainly the answer for me.
All the time, I kept hoping that the police had assumed the motive for the theft was money and had left it to the Glazars to report the cards and passports missing rather than pursuing the matter further. I didn't want to turn up at the ticket sales desk and be jumped on by several hundred pounds of cop.
Still thirty minutes to go before we could check in. One more thing to do.
"Kelly, we have to go to the bathroom up here for a while."
"I don't need to go."
"It's for me to get into my disguise. Come and see."
We went to the handicap toilet in departures and closed the door. I took out Sarah's glasses. They were gold-framed and had lenses as thick as the bottom of Coke bottles. I tried them on. The frames weren't big enough but they looked OK.. I turned to Kelly and crossed my eyes. Then I had to stop her laughing.
I took the painkillers out of the duffel.
"I'm going to swallow these and they're going to make me ill. But it's for a reason, OK?"
She wasn't quite sure.
I took six capsules and waited. The hot flashes started, then the cold sweats. I put my hands up to show it was OK as the contents of my stomach flew out of my mouth into the toilet bowl.
Kelly watched in amazement as I rinsed out my mouth in the basin. I looked at myself in the mirror. Just as I'd hoped, I looked as pale and clammy as I felt. I took two more.
There were few customers at the long line of check-in desks and only one woman on duty at Virgin Atlantic ticket sales.
She was writing something so her head was down as we approached.
She was in her mid-twenties and beautiful, with relaxed hair pulled back in a bun.
"Hello, the name's Glazar." Because of the vomiting my voice was lower and coarse.
"There should be two tickets for me." I tried to look disorganized and flustered.
"Hopefully, my brother-in-law has booked them?" My eyes looked to the sky in hope.
"Sure, do you have a reference number?"
"Sorry, he didn't give me one. Just Glazar, Christian Glazar" She tapped that out and said, "That's fine, Mr. Glazar, two tickets for you and Louise. How many bags are you checking in?"
I had the laptop on my shoulder and the duffel in my hand.
I dithered, as if working out if I'd need the laptop on the flight.
"Just this one." I put the bag on the scale. It didn't weigh much, but it was bulked up respectably with the blanket.
"Could I see your passport, please?"
I looked in all my pockets without apparent success. I didn't want to produce Glazar's documents right away.
"Look, I know we were lucky to get seats at all, but is it possible to make sure we're sitting together?" I leaned a little closer and half-whispered, "Louise hates flying."
Kelly and I exchanged glances.
"Everything's going to be OK.," I told her. My voice dropped again.
"We're on a bit of a mercy mission."
I looked down at Kelly and back at the woman, my face pained.
"Her grandmother^ ..." I let it hang, as if the rest of the sentence would be too terrible for a little girl's ears.
"I'll see what I can do, sir."
She was hitting the keys other PC at such a speed it looked as if she were bluffing. I put the passport on top of the counter. She looked up and smiled. "No problem, Mr.
Glazar;' "That's marvelous" But I still wanted to keep the conversation going.
"I wonder, would it be possible for us to use one of your lounges? It's just that, after my chemotherapy, I tire very easily. We've been rushing around today and I don't feel too good. I only have to knock myself and I start bleeding " She looked at my scabs and pale complexion and under stood. There was a pause, then she said, "My mother went through chemo for cancer of the liver. The therapy worked;
after all that pain she came through "
I thanked her for her concern and her message of support.
Now just get me into the lounge, out of the fucking way!
"Let me find out." Smiling at Kelly, she picked up the phone and spoke. After several seconds of weird airline vocabulary she looked at me and nodded.
"That's fine, sir. We share facilities with United. I'll fill out an invitation."
I thanked her as she reached for the passport. I hoped that by now she knew me so well it was just a formality. She flicked it open; I turned away and talked to Kelly, telling her how exciting it was going to be, flying to see Grandma.
I heard, "You'll be boarding at about five-thirty." I looked up, all smiles.
"Go to Gate C. A shuttle will take you to the lounge. You both have a pleasant flight."
"Thank you so much. Come on then, Louise, we've got a plane to catch!" I let Kelly walk on a few steps, then turned and said, "I just hope Grandma can wait for us." She nodded knowingly.
All I wanted to do now was get through Customs. First hurdle was security. Kelly went through first, and I followed.
No alarms. I had to open up the laptop and switch it on to prove it worked, but I'd been expecting that. All the Flavius files were now in a folder called Games.
We went straight to Gate C, walked through, and got on the shuttle bus. There was a five-minute wait while the bus filled up, then the doors closed, the hydraulics lowered, and we drove about half a mile across the tarmac to the departures lounge proper.
The area was plush and busy. I heard a lot of British accents, mixed in with snatches of German and French. Kelly and I headed for the United lounge, via a detour to the candy stall.
We sat quietly with a large cappuccino and a Coke. Unfortunately, the downtime just gave me a while to think about whether I'd made any mistakes.
A security man walked into the reception area and talked to the people at the desk. My heart beat faster. We were so close to the aircraft on the other side of the glass that I felt I could reach out and touch them. I could almost smell the aviation fuel.
I told myself to calm down. If they'd wanted us, they would have found us by now.
But, in truth, so many things could still go wrong that one of them almost certainly would. I was still sweating away. My head was glistening. And I didn't know if it was the capsules or my worrying, but I was starting to feel weak.
"Nick, am I Louise all day today or just for now?"
I pretended to think about it.
"The whole day. You're Louise Glazar all day."
"Why?"
"Because they won't let us go to England unless we use another name."
I got a smiling, thoughtful nod.
I said, "Do you want to know something else?"
"What?"
"If I call you Louise, you have to call me Daddy. But just for today."
I wasn't sure what kind of reaction that would get, but she just shrugged.
"Whatever." Maybe that was what she wanted now.
The next three hours were grim, but at least we were out of the way. If I'd had any heart problems, I would probably have died, the blood was coursing through me so fast and hard. I could hear it pumping in my ears.
I kept saying to myself: You're here now, there's nothing you can do about it; accept it. Just get on that fucking aircraft!
I looked at Kelly.
"You all right, Louise?"
"Yeah, I'm all right. Daddy." She had a big smile now. I just hoped she kept it.
I watched the receptionist move to the microphone. She announced our flight and told us that she had really enjoyed having us stay in the lounge.
There were about a dozen others who stood up and started to sort themselves out, folding papers and zipping up bags.
I got to my feet and stretched.
"Louise?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's go to England!"
We walked toward the gate, father and daughter, hand in hand, chatting about nothing. My theory went: if I talked with her, they wouldn't talk to us.
Four or five people were ahead of us in line--like us, families with young children. Passports were being checked by a young Latino; he had an ID card on a chain around his neck, but we were too far way yet for me to make out what it said.
Was he airline security or airport security?
Two uniformed security men came up and stood behind him, talking to each other. It was the kind of chat that looked so casual it probably wasn't. I used my sleeve to mop sweat from the side of my face.
Both of the uniformed men were armed. The black one cracked a joke as the white one laughed and looked around.
Kelly and I shuffled forward.
I held her beside me, the protective parent anxious in a crowd. The laptop was over my shoulder. Kelly held a teddy bear under each arm.
We moved three steps forward; another wait, then it was our turn with the Latino.
I wanted to make it all very easy for him. Smiling, I handed him the boarding passes and the passport. I was convinced the uniformed guys were looking at me. I went into boxer mode: everything was focused on the Latino; everything else was in the distance, muffled, distorted, peripheral. A bead of sweat fell down my cheek, and I knew he'd noticed it. I knew he could see my chest heaving up and down.
Kelly was just behind and to the right of me. I looked at her and smiled.
"Sir?"
I silently exhaled in preparation and looked back at him.
"Just the passport, sir." He handed me back the boarding passes. I grinned, the inexperienced dickhead traveler.
He flicked through the pages of the passport, stopping at Glazar's photograph. He glanced at me, then back at the passport.
I'm in deep shit.
I let him see I was reading his thoughts.
"Male menopause," I grinned, rubbing my hand over what was left of my hair. My scalp was drenched.
"The Bruce Willis look!"
The fucker didn't laugh. He was making up his mind. He closed the passport and tapped it in his hand.
"Have a pleasant flight, sir."
I went to give him a nod, but he was already paying attention to the people behind me.
We moved two paces toward the women from Virgin and handed them our boarding passes. The two security men didn't budge.
We started to walk onto the air bridge I felt as if I'd been trying to run through waist-high water and was suddenly on the shoreline.
The Latino still worried me. I thought about him all the way onto the aircraft. It was only when I'd found our seats, put the laptop in the overhead locker, settled down, and picked up the in-flight magazine that I took a deep breath and let it out very, very slowly. It wasn't a sigh of relief; I was boosting the oxygen levels in my blood. No, the fucker wasn't happy. His suspicions had been aroused, but he hadn't asked any questions, hadn't even asked my name. We might be on the shoreline, but it was far from being dry land.
The aircraft was still filling up. I kept taking deep breaths to try to control my pulse rate.
Officials were moving in and out of the aircraft with manifests. Every time it happened I was expecting to see the two security guys in tow. There was only one entrance, only one exit. There was nowhere to run. As I worked through the scenarios in my mind, I just had to accept that the die was cast. I was a passenger now, and for a fleeting second I had the same feeling that I'd always had on any aircraft, military or civilian I was in the hands of others and powerless to decide my own destiny. I hated it.
People were still filing on. I nearly burst out in nervous laughter as the speakers played Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive " I looked at Kelly and winked. She thought it was great, sitting there trying to strap in her teddy bears.
One of the male flight attendants came down our aisle, still wearing his Virgin uniform, not yet in shirtsleeves. He came down to our row of seats and stopped. Judging by his line of sight, he seemed to be checking our seat belts. It was too early for that, surely? I nodded and smiled. He turned back and disappeared into the galley.
I watched the entrance, expecting the worst. One of the female flight attendants poked her head out and looked directly at me. Kelly's teddy bears were suddenly very interesting.
I could feel tingling in my feet. My stomach tightened. I looked up again. She was gone.
The male attendant came out again, carrying a garbage bag. He approached us again, stopped, and squatted down in the aisle next to Kelly. He said, "Hiya!"
"Hello!"
He put his hand into the bag; I waited for him to bring out the .45. Good ploy, letting me think he's a member of the crew doing something for the kid.
He pulled out a little nylon day sack Splattered all over the back was the Virgin logo and the words kids with altitude.
"We forgot to give you one of these," he said. I nearly hugged him.
"Thank you very much!" I grinned like an asylum inmate, my eyes one hundred percent larger through the lenses of Sarah's glasses.
"Thank you so much!"
He did his best not to look at me, as if I were indeed some sort of weirdo, then offered us a drink before takeoff. I was dying for a beer, but I might have to start performing on the other side and, anyway, I just wanted to lean back and rest.
We each ordered an orange juice instead.
Sharing the in-flight guide with Kelly, I said, "What film are you going to watch, Louise?"
"Clueless," she grinned.
"Whatever," I said.
Twenty minutes later, right on schedule, the aircraft finally lifted off from the runway. Suddenly I didn't mind being in a pilot's hands after all. We went through all the nonsense of the introduction by the captain, how wonderful it was to have us on board, and when we were going to be fed. My body heat was starting to dry out my sweat-drenched shirt. Even my socks had been wet. I looked over at Kelly. She had a sad face on. I nudged her with my arm.
"You OK?"
"I guess. I couldn't even tell Melissa I'm going to England."
I knew how to get out of this type of thing now.
"Well, all you have to do is think good things about Melissa and that will make you feel happy." I was waiting for her reply. I knew the sort of thing it was going to be.
"Do you think about David? What do you remember about David?"
Easy; I was prepared.
"Well, nearly twelve years ago, we were rebuilding his house together and it needed a new wooden floor."
She was enjoying this, stories at bedt
ime. She certainly looked as if she would go to sleep soon, cuddling up to me.
I continued telling her how we'd both swiped a squash court floor from one of the HQ Security Forces bases in Northern Ireland. We were there at three o'clock in the morning with spades, hammers, and chisels. We put the boards in a van and brought them over to his Welsh cottage. After all, HM Government spent all that time and money training us to break in and steal things. Why not use it for ourselves?
The next three days had been spent laying the hallway and kitchen of the house near Brecon with his nice new flooring.
I grinned down at her for a reaction, but she was already sound asleep.
I started to watch the video but knew I was going to fall asleep any minute--as long as the capsules wore off and I could stop my mind going back to the same question over and over again.
There was an unholy alliance between PIRA and corrupt elements of the DEA, of that there was no doubt--and it very much looked as though Kev's boss was at the center of it. Kev had found out about the corruption, but not who was involved.
He wanted to talk to somebody about it. Was it his boss whom he'd unwittingly phoned for an opinion the day I arrived in Washington? Very unlikely, because Kev would have had to include him on his list of suspects. Much more probable was that he'd spoken to someone unconnected with the DEA, someone who'd know what he was talking about and whose opinion he valued. Could it have been Luther? He knew Kev; would Kev have trusted him? Who knows? Whoever he had called, he was dead within an hour of putting down the phone.
The cabin lights came on a couple of hours before landing, and we were served breakfast. I tried to wake Kelly, but she groaned and buried herself under her blanket. I didn't bother with the food. From feeling almost elated at having gotten past security, I awoke profoundly depressed. My mood was as black as the coffee in front of me. I'd been crazy to let myself feel relieved. We weren't out of the woods by a long shot;
if they knew we were on the aircraft, of course they wouldn't do anything about it until we landed. It was at the point that I walked off and stepped onto the ramp that they'd lift me.
Even if that didn't happen, there was Immigration. The officials trying to keep out undesirables are much tougher and a lot more on the ball than those in charge of waving you off.
