Flight Path: A Wright & Tran Novel (24 page)

“I said, we will be checking in using the self-service kiosks. I have all the paper work. You just need to stay with me. We will drop off the bags and proceed to passport control. No need to worry, it will all go smoothly. Follow me throughout if you would be so kind, Jacob.”

ɸ

Gerard led them through the terminal as Lim, with not even a word of farewell to Gerard, drove off. Jacob knew this flight was likely to follow the example of the last when he was handed a boarding pass showing seat ‘17A Business’. His only real surprise was at departure passport control. There were many less lanes in comparison to the arrival area, but as Gerard lined up, Jacob was intrigued to see the same female immigration officer up ahead. He leant forward and asked quietly, “How can she be on here?”

“These passport officials work a twelve-hour day. She works half on arrivals and half on departures. We choose these flights for a reason my dear chap,” Gerard explained.

“But how can you be sure she’ll be working?”

“We have a few, shall I say, spare pieces on the board of play?”

“So she knows me and what I look like?” Jacob asked, putting what he hoped was a sufficient amount of alarm into his voice.

“Gosh no,” Gerard said quietly over his shoulder. Even after six hours, Jacob was still bemused at the Englishness of the man’s speech. “Our dear lady knows what our French friend looks like and what I look like. She knows whomsoever comes after us will be someone for her to pay less attention to. Simple really.”

“Do you have the same in place at all the airports?”

“Where we can. Sometimes the logistics makes it impossible. But we try our best,” Gerard said and Jacob noticed the same pride in the operation that the small man in Paris had shown.

Once through all the preliminaries, Gerard led them to the Cathay Pacific Skyview Lounge. After checking in with reception, he ushered Jacob through an open plan arrangement of chairs, tables and self-service counters, past a table with six unattended PCs, the screen savers of which said, in English, ‘Free Internet for your Use’, and headed upstairs to an even smaller lounge. Once more, Jacob knew the exclusivity came with increased security.

“Please sit, my dear Jacob. Relax. Help yourself to food and drink. Although please remember what I daresay our French friend will have impressed upon you; do not get drunk and do not go where I cannot see.”

Jacob sagged into a half-circle tub-chair opposite Gerard and sighed.

“What is the matter?” Gerard asked.

“All through this it seems I’m not trusted. From when I first started on the Flight Path, I’ve been watched and monitored. I feel like a prisoner yet I’m paying good money. It just saddens me.”

“True, very true,” Gerard agreed, nodding slowly. “But of course Jacob, there is a chance that you are not who you say you are. There is a chance you might be police or some other form of agent.” He held his hand up to stop Jacob’s attempt at protesting. “I know. I know. It is most unlikely and given our security we have never had one successful breach. Not in all our years, but we have had attempts. These measures we use, protected us then and protect us now. We’ll only relax when you get to the end of the Path and…” he trailed off.

“And what?” Jacob asked.

Gerard leant forward, “And you prove you are one of us.”

“Can you explain further?”

“When you get to wherever you are going, the men who are there will manage your life into your new identity. They will help and assist you. At some point they will be able to tell if you are who you say you are. That’s all, really,” Gerard said and gave a wry smile.

Jacob was aware that, for the first time since he had met Gerard, the man was being coy with his answers. He tried to get him to clarify, but Gerard said only, “All in good time Jacob. All in good time. But, rest assured, once that is done you will be given complete autonomy. Until then, we must watch over you closely. It is the Flight Path way. We are cautious. You have lived with this caution all your life, so you must see the sense in it, no matter how frustrating. Does that explain why we do what we do?”

Jacob said nothing for a long time. He thought about Gerard’s last sentence. Nothing would make him comprehend what or why these men did what they did. It sickened him to think how any adult could betray the trust of an innocent. Images of last Christmas, spent in the company of his brother and sister-in-law, his two nieces and his nephew flooded his mind. He saw the two older kids with their beaming faces, reflecting their happiness and their excitement. He heard their squeals of laughter as they put up their stockings and then their soft breathing as they slept peacefully, waiting for Santa and the surprise of the morning. He saw the tiny bundle that had been his youngest niece, oblivious to the season and totally dependent on the adults around her to provide protection. He knew he had to follow this Path to its end, but he also knew that just being in the company of these animals was wearing him down.

“Jacob, do you understand?”

“Yes. Of course. I see. I’m sorry to have asked.”

“Oh no my dear chap. It’s alright. Perfectly fine. Now why don’t I go and get us both a nice cup of tea?”

Jacob managed to nod. As Gerard stood, he found his voice, “Gerard, you said wherever I am going. Do you not know?”

“Oh no. Absolutely not. For all I know you could end up in Timbuktu and I would have no clue.”

ɸ

They departed ninety minutes late, at ten to three in the morning. Jacob guessed Gerard would be as watchful and controlling as Thierry had been, so he tried to sleep for a part of the almost four hour flight, but the sharp ache he felt when he considered the normality of Gerard and others like him, kept him wide awake.

Forced into a holding pattern they finally touched down at 06:50, but at least there was no time zone change. Jacob followed Gerard once more, but other than noting Flight Path had at least one Hong Kong immigration official on their books, evidenced by the scant examination he gave the forged Canadian passport, Jacob wandered through the arrival’s process in a semi-daze. He knew it was a combination of tiredness and the fear he felt at the casual way Gerard, so refined and respectful, could probably walk into any child’s life and destroy it. The same man would then offer friends a cup of tea, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear the fog and watched large glass doors slide apart to reveal a broad concourse thronged with meeters and greeters, welcoming relatives and business associates. A young girl, of no more than six, broke free of what Jacob presumed was her mother’s hand and ran to hug, what Jacob also presumed, was her father. The man swept her up and twirled her around in a moment that made Jacob’s heart lighten.

“Jacob,” Gerard called.

He looked away from the family, “Yes?”

“This way,” Gerard said and began to follow a much younger man, dressed in black trousers, white shirt and black tie.

They followed him through a series of moving walkways and tunnels before entering an immense space of shops, cinemas and food courts. Lavish Christmas decorations, even bigger and more prevalent than the Singaporean ones, gave Jacob more pause for thought on the universal nature of the festival. He was so distracted by the displays that he was halfway through the complex’s upper level before he realised it was almost empty. Other than the staff in the retail outlets, he could see only a handful of other people. He remembered the noise inside a Heathrow terminal and compared it to the relative silence here. A silence that was broken only by piped music, currently playing ‘
Rockin’ around the Christmas Tree with Mel and Kim’
. The Christmas song stopped him. He looked up at the phenomenally complex ceiling architecture, adorned with golden chandeliers and brightly illuminated stars. Looking down, through the glass-sided walkway, he could see the ground floor stretching away in wide concourses, vast and mostly empty. The building, that could have comfortably accommodated thousands of travellers, seemed to be hosting less than a hundred.

He felt a hand on his arm, “Come along Jacob, Keep up. We have a change of plan,” Gerard said, moving off again.

On the far side of the building they took an escalator down to ground level and out into a huge carpark. The humidity again made Jacob feel like he was walking through a fine mist, but he was relieved that the temperature of a Hong Kong morning was at least ten degrees cooler than a Singaporean night had been. He was also relieved not to have jeans on anymore. Cooler or not, he was still drenched in sweat by the time the three of them had traversed rows of cars to finally stop next to a white Toyota Camry.

The younger man and Gerard talked rapidly in Chinese while Jacob stood apart, put his case on the ground and looked up to the peaks of high mountains off to his left. He knew, from the small map display that he had studied on the in-seat entertainment, that he was looking south-east to Lantau Island. He had been surprised, and disappointed, to find out from the travel guide that played in the plane during their time circling around in the holding pattern, that Hong Kong Airport could be an hour’s drive away, depending on traffic, from the main Hong Kong harbour and skyline that he had seen on television. Although he did think it probably didn’t matter as another hooded journey through unknown streets was hardly going to give him an opportunity to sightsee. As he looked at the mountains, Gerard came over to him.

“It appears that we have a small problem.”

“Which is?”

“Your escort for the next leg of your journey has been, umm, delayed.”

“Umm delayed? I don’t like the umm, if I’m honest.”

“Yes, rather. It turns out she has-”

“She!”

“Yes, a woman. We do have women who share… Well, let’s not talk about that here. She has been delayed because the documents she was collecting were not ready. This has been a lot more of a rush than normal. Because of the events in Paris.”

“Yes, I was told that things are different,”

“Quite. Well, she is waiting for them to be finished. The thing is, by the time you drive into Hong Kong, to where you were meant to be meeting her and then back out here, it all gets tight for time. So, I am afraid you will have to wait here.”

“Here, as in the airport?” Jacob asked.

“Here as in the car. I do apologise Jacob, but it is the same as we spoke of before. Security and confidence.”

Jacob knew not to object again, “That’s fine Gerard. All is fine. But…”

“Yes?”

“What happens if she doesn’t show up?”

“Oh she will. She may have to change some travel plans, but she will show up.”

“Fair enough.”

“Then, if that is settled, this is where I shall bid you farewell. I doubt our paths will ever cross again, but if they do, I shall certainly enjoy your company,” Gerard said and held his hand out.

Jacob automatically reached out. He felt the clamminess and willed himself not to break the man’s fingers. Instead he mustered a smile and said, “Thank you for getting me this far. I do hope we meet again.” The last half of his sentence, truly meant.

Gerard walked off, back in the direction of the terminal building and Jacob looked to the young man who stood next to the car. “Can we get in?”

The doors unlocked at the press of a key fob and Jacob put his bags in the back before getting into the passenger seat. The young man got into the driver’s side and turned the ignition on, not to start the engine, but to allow a gentle breeze of air conditioning to flow through the car.

“Okay, what’s your name?” Jacob asked.

“We no speak now,” the man said in heavily accented English.

“At all?”

The man shook his head. Jacob turned and stared out the window to the far off peaks.

ɸ

At 09:20, a black Audi A5 came roaring up the line of cars one over from the Camry. The noise of its engine woke the dozing Jacob and he sat up straighter in his seat. The Audi braked to a halt and a woman, western looking, medium height, slim, with a blonde bob-haircut and wearing low heels, silver-grey slacks and a fitted green blouse, stepped from the passenger’s side of the car. She moved with a sense of urgency, recovered a single suitcase from the boot, then leant back into the passenger footwell and brought out a leather handbag, slinging the strap over her shoulder. She slammed the car door shut and the Audi pulled away, rapidly.

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.

Hong Kong International Airport. Friday 27
th
November.

Jacob was b
y
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.”

ɸ

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 about 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.”