by Mike Binder
“Oh shit. We’re going to the airport. The airport. Damn it!”
“Daddy, what are you doing? We’re leaving? We can’t be leaving? I can’t go. You can’t do this to me. You don’t understand. This is my soul mate. You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” She started to get desperate, leaned up, almost climbed over the front seat, begging.
“Look, look, Daddy, Mommy, I know you two are splitting up or whatever, something’s going down with you two, but don’t take it out on Étienne and me. Please. We’re in love. We are. We both are so in love. Mommy? Mommy, please, just let me stay. I’ll stay with Poppa. Just for a week or so. Please? Please, Mommy? Please!” Billy jumped up now and joined in on the panicked pleading.
“The airport? We can’t leave. What about Poppa? I want to stay here. I want to live with Poppa.”
Adam ignored them. Kate couldn’t look back, couldn’t face them as they pulled into Heathrow, prepaid on the longest parking ticket possible for short-term parking, and found a spot. Adam looked at his watch. It was almost eight p.m. There was an American Airlines flight at nine thirty. He had a short window to walk around freely. Right now, he figured, was all about mass confusion and hysteria at 10 Downing Street. They wouldn’t be looking for him quite yet, but they would clamp down on people leaving the country soon, especially unplanned exits. He was hoping he had a few hours before they got to that place.
He ignored his children’s whining and rustled up a luggage cart and rushed the family through to the ticket counter of the crowded departure terminal. He quickly checked a newsstand. The papers still had nothing. He tried to spot a television set but there were none in the departing terminal that he saw. He thought the police presence was heavy, but it didn’t seem any more than it was when they had landed.
“Are you at the aeroport?”
“Yes. I don’t know what to do. What should I do?”
“Can you please talk to your father into letting you stay?”
“I tried. It’s no use.”
“I love you, Trudy.”
“I love you, too. What should I do?”
“Do you see signs for the Heathrow Express? They should be all over the place?”
Trudy quickly scanned the walls around her. She saw the signs on the walls advertising the Heathrow Express train to London.
“Yes. I see them. I see arrows.”
“If you follow the arrows, it is a direct train back to London. It only takes fifteen minutes. I could meet you.”
Kate and Adam didn’t look at each other as they waited in line to purchase tickets. Gordon kept calling Kate. Adam could hear her phone buzzing. He figured it best not to make a scene right now and bust the chip. He thought he still had time. He took Kate’s hand. She wrapped into his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay. Okay?”
She turned and looked at him. Her eyes were as dark as he’d ever seen them—blue eyes that had closed down, gone black with fear.
“No. No. It’s not okay. I’m so scared, Adam. I’m shaking.”
“I know, sweetie. I’m scared, too.”
He bought his wife and crying children three tickets. He was worried as the attendant at the ticket desk punched the family name into the computers. If they were on a list already, if there was a filter of any kind, looking for anyone leaving the country, he’d know it in seconds. But the ticketing went smoothly. The attendant could see that the family was grieving for some reason. She figured this was an emergency flight home. That someone had passed. She was overly gentle and sympathetic and gave them passes to wait in the First Class lounge and use the VIP customs line. Adam played along and thanked her with a bowed head, trying to put on the soft whimper of a man who was wrapping his head around a new loss. It was an easy part to play.
As they headed to the customs line, right as Adam began to feel hopeful about his family getting out safely, about having made the window, he looked back and couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Trudy was texting. He lost it. He stormed over and grabbed the phone right out of her hand.
“What are you doing, Daddy?”
“What are you doing? What the hell is going on here?” He quickly read through the texts and went white with rage.
“How could you do this, Trudy? How could you do this? You told them right where we are. Do you realize that?” It threw the teenager. She wasn’t used to this. He was talking to her as if she were a criminal.
“What are you talking about?” She was at a loss. Her father’s anger made no sense. He had never spoken to her like that. Adam didn’t care. He was blind with rage. He opened her phone case, took out the chip from the top, dropped it to the ground, and broke it into pieces with his heel. Several other travelers stopped and noticed the commotion.
“What is your problem, Daddy?”
“My problem is you. You’ve betrayed us. Don’t you see that?”
He regretted saying that as soon as the words left his mouth. Events had caught up with him. He had lost his balance. Trudy was a victim of his knees going out from under him. He wanted to pull her in, hug her, but he couldn’t. He was enraged. Kate came over, rolling the luggage cart with Billy on the top, stepped into the wicked silence, father and daughter glaring at each other. She saw the broken cell chip on the floor. Trudy’s face flushed with anguish.
“What’s going on?” Trudy didn’t bother to reply. She looked at her mother, then back to her father.
“I hate you both. You both make me sick.”
She turned and ran. She ran as fast as she could through the terminal, away from them, into the crowd. She bolted, fled, escaped, darted away with all the speed and emotion of a scared young girl in love. Adam gave Kate the tickets.
“Wait here. Right here. I’m going after her.”
He chased her through the terminal, down a long winding hallway that kept sloping down, lower and lower with each turn, the walls adorned with large arrows and signs pointing to the Heathrow Express, bragging about the ease of the fifteen-minute trip right into the center of London. Trudy was running as fast as Adam had ever seen her move. The terminal was crowded and Trudy, being smaller and thinner, was having an easier time slipping through the people and the carts and the kiosks. With every turn of the hallway she pulled farther and farther away from him.
When she finally reached the ticketing area, after running almost a quarter of a mile through sloping hallways, she stopped to figure out the boarding process. Adam came around the corner faster than she thought he would and lunged for her as she was looking up at the departure board. The run had taken its toll on him. He was winded and as he went for her she quickly stepped aside. He went crashing past her, falling forward and sliding along on the newly polished floor. She watched him crumple and fall and was torn about what to do. She wanted to make sure he was okay but knew that if she stopped, he’d grab her, make her come back, fly home, leave England, leave Étienne.
She seized her moment. She turned and fled down the steps to the train stalls. She took them two, three, and four at a time. Halfway down she looked up, saw her father, once again on her tail. He was coming fast, his eyes on fire. She hit the bottom and ran toward the one of two tracks that flashed a message that it was now leaving for London.
She ran as fast as she could, blasted into the track tunnel, and then onto the closest car, right as the door clamped shut. She made it with less than a second to spare. She looked out and saw her father coming into the tunnel as the train slowly began to pull out. He caught sight of her watching him through the door window and she quickly ducked. An older woman with a frilly coat and a throwback of a hat, seated in the last seat of the next car, stared at Trudy as she sat there on the ground of the middle car’s entranceway, hiding from her father as he banged on the window, desperately yelling for someone to stop the train. Trudy saw the older lady look up to an emergency button that would immediately grind the train to a halt. She saw the woman consider it and heard her father outside, still yelling, still banging.
The older woman didn’t reach for the button. The train didn’t stop. It lurched out of the station, slowly picked up speed, and headed off toward London.
Adam was at the end of the tunnel ramp, watching it disappear. He was begging his battered body for the faintest version of an easy breath, soaking wet with sweat, trembling with white, airless anger.
He had lost her. Lost his window.
* * *
BACK IN THE departure terminal, he found Kate and Billy right where he had left them. Kate had seen him coming from the far end of the hall, saw that Trudy wasn’t with him, and read the look on his face from four long ticket counters away.
“She went back to London. To find that French kid.”
Kate held Billy close. She wasn’t sure how to react.
“Maybe this is good. Maybe it gets her out of trouble. Maybe she needs to be away from us until—”
He cut her off. “It’s not good. He’s a phony. I don’t even think that he’s that French bitch’s son. She’s with them. Who knows what they have on her.”
“What are you talking about, Adam?”
“They used Trudy to force me to go along with them today. They threatened me with her life.”
“Who threatened you with her life?”
“Étienne’s mother. She’s part of all this. She’s with Heaton in some way.” Kate eked out another groan. This all just kept getting worse and worse.
“Trudy’s in trouble, Kate. I need to go back into London and find her. Fast. You need to go through security and get into the boarding area. Get on the plane as soon as you can.”
“What if you’re not back before the plane leaves? That’s an hour from now?”
“You take off. I’ll put her on the next plane as soon as I find her. You need to get out of this country right now, Kate. Get Billy away.”
Kate just stared at him. It was all happening too fast. This new reality didn’t make any sense to her—the need to escape Britain, her own homeland.
“I won’t leave Trudy. I won’t leave you.”
“You don’t have a choice! You need to do exactly what I tell you to do right now. Please. Tell me that you understand this.” He glared at her. She didn’t know how to answer. She was too off balance to go head to head.
“Yes. Yes. I understand.”
It didn’t matter. As the words came out of her mouth, Adam saw Harris and Peet coming down the far steps. He saw them before they saw him. He grabbed Kate, Billy, and the bags and pulled them behind a currency exchange kiosk. He watched the two old thugs coming through the terminal. They went over to the ticket desk he had just come from. The bald guy asked for someone. The attendant who had helped them was called over. The window of opportunity had closed. They were on to them. It was as bad as he imagined it would be.
He turned to Kate as he grabbed the smallest bags and threw them over his shoulder.
“Grab your handbag. We’re leaving.”
“What? What about the cart? All the luggage.”
“It stays. Let’s go.” Billy grabbed his suitcase.
“No. My toys. My books. No, Daddy, we have to take them. Please. Please.”
“Fine.” He grabbed Billy’s suitcase. Billy stopped him again.
“Where are we going now, Daddy? I’m scared. You’re scaring me. Where is Trudy?”
“You said you didn’t want to leave, right? Well, now we’re not leaving. Let’s go, Kate. Now.” She grumbled as she picked up her carry-on bags. Adam picked up Billy along with his suitcase, guiding them carefully back toward the elevator leading out to the parking deck.
“What are we doing, Daddy? Are we getting on the plane? You and Mommy are both acting funny. I’m getting really scared.”
“It’s fine, Billy. Mommy changed her mind. We’re not going to leave after all.”
“Can we go back to that one hotel? The one with all the movies? The one near the park?”
“We’ll find a better one.”
He shuffled them carefully behind a newsstand as he waited for the elevator to land. When it did, as he pushed them on, as the doors closed, he and Peet made eye contact. They were spotted.
* * *
THE ELEVATOR DOORS opened on the parking level and Adam, Kate, and Billy bolted out and across the long covered bridge to short-term parking. Halfway across, Adam craned his head back and could see Harris and Peet on the outside stairs running up to meet the bridge. He still had a good three hundred yards on them, but they weren’t carrying an eight-year-old boy and an assortment of luggage.
They hit the parking garage, turned left, and ducked behind a row of cars. Harris and Peet entered the parking deck and turned right. The Tatums caught a lucky break. Their car was in the west stalls. They snaked their way quietly through the parked cars, finally reuniting with the Ford. Adam opened the car, winced as its alarm chirped, got Kate and Billy in, and left the west deck as quickly and quietly as possible.
* * *
THEY HEADED BACK onto the M4 toward London. After a quarter of a mile, Adam checked his watch. It was useless. He couldn’t beat the express train. He pulled off the highway onto a small road, stopped the car, and got out. He needed air to think. There wasn’t even time to mull it over or contemplate a way out. He walked over to the car and motioned for Kate to roll the window down. She was crying again. Billy was dutifully trying to calm her down.
“Give me your phone. I have to call your father. He has to go to Paddington and meet that train.” She stepped out of the car and closed the door so that Billy wouldn’t hear her.
“We can’t call my father. I don’t trust him. I never want to speak to him again.”
“I’m not sure we have a choice. That train will be in Paddington in eight minutes. If we lose her, I don’t know what the next move is. I’d call Beauregard, but it’d take too long to get him over there. Your father may have resources: some friends, ex-cops, someone. It’s his granddaughter, for Christ’s sake.”
She just stared at him, her phone in her hands, not sure if she wanted to give it to him. She thought about something for a long beat, another option. She wondered if it was the right move and realized she didn’t have a choice. She started dialing.
“Who are you calling?”
“Richard Lyle. He lives a block from Paddington station. I was there this afternoon.”
Adam couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was like a punch to a gut that had already spent the day taking incoming shots.
“Great, so while I was knee deep in this shit that you coaxed me into, you were sneaking around with your old boyfriend? At his apartment?”
“No, I was innocently seeing an old friend.” She turned to him with icy eyes. “I was having a tea. You were blowing up Number 10. Please don’t even think to lecture me about how I spent my afternoon.”
Luckily for her, Richard picked up his phone before they could take the useless banter any further. She deftly told Richard their predicament without going into too much detail. She told him he needed to go over to Paddington immediately and intercept Trudy. She told him it was an emergency, to not let anyone else talk to her or persuade him to do anything but put her right back on the very next express train. He was more than happy to help. He could hear the stress in her voice. He didn’t need to know too much, only that he now had the chance to play the hero for Kate. He had the chance to see her again. He was in.
“Thank you so much, Richard. You’re a doll. But please, go this instant. Yes? Thank you.” Adam motioned for her to cover the phone.
“Should we text him a photo of her?” She took it as a good idea. She ran it by Richard and waited for a reply. She was nodding.
“Okay, sweetie, then just go. Go fast and call me once you have her. Thank you so, so, much.” She hung up and turned back to Adam.
“He says not to bother, says he knows what she looks like from her photos on Facebook.” Adam just threw his hands up. He walked away mumbling something about Facebook being the worst thing e
ver invented.
ON THE HUNT ■ 3
Georgia had a whale of a nightmare. Roland had died, succumbed to the wounds of the bomb blast. The entire city was in mourning. There was no one in the streets. The television stations had all signed off. The king gave a statement and then Buckingham Palace went dark in quiet remembrance. Numbers 10 and 11 were empty. Everyone had gone home to their families. Georgia was alone.
She walked out onto Whitehall, naked—not a stitch of clothing. It didn’t matter, though; no one was around. Maybe there was the occasional odd, old woman, crying on a bench. An empty bus rolled by, but the driver didn’t look at her. She walked toward Parliament, her wild hair the only thing covering any part of her body. When she turned the corner into Parliament Square, she saw it was filled with people—filled with everyone she had ever known: her parents, her childhood friends, cousins, even David Templeton, her first boyfriend. They were all in the candlelit early morning square, mourning over photos, posters, and drawings of Roland Lassiter.
She quickly stepped back into a nook in the base of a building—they hadn’t seen her yet. She was suddenly embarrassed to be so blatantly naked. A car pulled up across the way, an old Bentley in beautiful shape. The passenger door opened, and it was Roland driving. He looked perfect. He had a Cheshire cat’s grin on his face. He waved her over. She quickly crossed the street and jumped into the Bentley and drove off.
They tooled through the empty streets, laughing and telling old stories, the windows down, the warm air blowing in as he took the Mall past the Palace and Constitution Hill up toward Hyde Park Corner. She wasn’t the least bit bothered to be undressed in front of him; it was just happiness and laughter, juvenile notions, and odd remembrances. Music was playing from ages ago: Wham!, Mick Hucknall, Annie Lennox. He soared into Hyde Park, which was as free of people as if it were still the king’s private hunting ground. He took the car up onto the walkway to the Serpentine. He asked her if she remembered that they came there early on the morning when they won the first general, when they stayed up all night talking about truly being able to change the world.