Chapter 12: The Passenger at the Airport

“Puff… puff…”

Ash was panting. Cold sweat was starting to prickle on her skin.

“Puff… puff…”

Once her breathing steadied a little, she turned and glanced at Chris.

He was still focused on the road.

Or rather, one hand on the wheel, his eyes fixed on the sluggish traffic ahead.

Harsh horns rolled in from near and far, wave after wave.

They were grating, but Ash was grateful for whoever was honking. It had pulled her out of the nightmare.

“What’s going on up ahead? How much longer?” she asked.

“Not sure. Probably a protest or something. We’re on the airport highway already. Just a few more minutes.”

“Oh.”

Ash nodded and turned her head to look out the window.

“How long have you been driving?”

“Almost two hours.”

“So the airport’s pretty far.”

“Yeah. We basically crossed all of Philadelphia.”

The cars ahead inched forward, and Chris shifted gears and followed.

Chris drove smoothly. From stop to go, Ash never felt so much as a jerk, like she was riding in an automatic.

They kept stopping and starting, crawling with the dense traffic toward the airport.

At some point, the terminal buildings showed up against the clear skyline.

Planes rumbled past every so often, twin-engine, tri-engine. Ash watched them fly overhead, then watched others take off from the far end, like little birds flitting around the utility poles.

Finally, Ash spotted the cause of the jam.

A protest march.

Men and women lined the airport highway, waving all sorts of flags. The bright red and black lettering on them glittered in the sun.

The mood was tense and angry. Curses rose and fell, fierce and raw.

Highway patrol had already arrived, but a handful of officers couldn’t stop a legal, permitted demonstration.

“Stop the war! Prosecute the murderers!”

“Baby killers don’t get to come home!”

“Murderers! Murderers!”

The car windows couldn’t block out the piercing shouts. Chris glanced at Ash, concerned.

She was sitting with her head bowed, her eyes hollow and distant.

She was thinking about those memories again.

“Don’t mind them, Ash. I’m here with you.”

Chris reached out and gently stroked her head.

“…”

Ash stayed quiet, feeling the warmth of his palm.

“…You don’t think I’m a murderer, do you?” she muttered.

“I don’t know what the others did, and I don’t want to know. But I never set out to kill anyone. I wouldn’t kill babies. I wouldn’t hurt unarmed people. I wouldn’t rape women. I just answered the call to bring freedom. It’s just… their deaths…”

Ash spoke quickly, not waiting for Chris to respond. Her face was full of hurt.

“We’re family, so, Chris, you believe me, right? Can you forgive me?”

She lifted her head and looked straight at him.

She looked so helpless and pitiful. Her emotions were slipping.

“Yeah. I believe you.”

Chris answered without hesitation, his hand gentle and warm.

“You’ve always been a good person. I believe you. Not just because we’re family.”

“Thank you… Chris.”

Ash whispered, her eyes slowly brightening.

With that little episode behind them, Chris’s car finally reached the airport.

Philadelphia International Airport’s terminals. Ash had seen them two days earlier, near dusk, when the first bright stars were already out.

Fortunately, the last C-130 hadn’t landed yet, and no crowd of protesters had gathered in front of the terminal.

Chris parked easily.

After getting out, he took Ash’s hand and hurried into the waiting hall, but he didn’t spot the guy in the noisy crowd.

Looks like, even after being stuck in traffic for half an hour, they’d still arrived a little early.

“Chris, what does your friend look like?” Ash asked, scanning the streams of people.

“Hmm. Blond, blue-eyed, about six one, well built, classic German looks. Likes to wear a black trench coat down to his calves and black sunglasses. Has that playboy vibe about him… Oh, there he is.”

Chris raised his hand and pointed ahead to the left.

A man who matched the description was walking toward them, past the airport staff pushing a long cart of luggage.

He’d clearly spotted Ash and Chris too, and was waving.

And just as Chris had said, even his wave made him look like a smooth playboy straight out of a movie.

Like the guy in Roman Holiday?

‘Come to think of it, Chris didn’t say he was a colleague, so he’s probably not IRS. This friend is probably some federal big shot too.’

While Ash was still mulling it over, he walked up.

“Oh, been waiting long, Chris?” he asked, pulling off his sunglasses with his right hand, his gaze sweeping between Chris and Ash.

“Not long. What kept you? Another weird passenger?”

“No.”

He spun the sunglasses’ arm between his fingers.

“One of the cabin doors acted up during takeoff. Got stuck, wouldn’t seal properly. Delayed us a bit. But this DC-10 is a new model, so these teething problems are expected. It’ll be fine.”

He stopped twirling the glasses, tilted his head, and locked his pale blue eyes onto Ash like prey.

The playboy charm vanished in an instant. The pressure brought back all her old fear of being under someone’s control. Her left hand instinctively grabbed at Chris’s sleeve.

“Your new girlfriend?”

“No. She’s the one I told you about.”

“Ah, right, of course. Haha, just kidding.”

He laughed, and the easy charm snapped right back.

“Also, you just scared her.”

“Ah, my apologies, beautiful lady. You’re just too lovely. I’ll behave.”

“…”

Ash ignored him.

“Easy, Ash. He does that on purpose. Guys in his line of work love that trick. Let me introduce you. This is Otto Schmidt. A friend, I guess.”

“What do you mean, ‘I guess’?”

Schmidt chuckled and shrugged. He hooked his sunglasses onto his collar with his right hand, gave a little gentlemanly bow, and extended his hand to Ash.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Ash Begonia. My apologies for being so forward. I’m Otto Schmidt. Chris’s friend. Senior agent at the CIA.”

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