You cannot distribute this story, print it for publication, put it on another web site, display this story, nor publish it anywhere without the express written consent and permission of the author. Verbal permission is not valid. You should read the introductory chapter for the full disclaimer. By reading this chapter, you acknowledge you have read the full disclaimer.

(Author note: This novel takes place in the year 2000 before airport security became what it was. When I was originally writing this chapter it was, coincidentally, early September 2001. After 9-11 I didn't write for months as I came to grips with the tragedy and the loss of people I knew. I finally finished the chapter some months after the tragedy and released a heavily edited version without the New York descriptions. I have reinstated most of the edited materials. My condolences continue to go out to the victims and I still encourage everyone to support the Robin Hood Foundation as I do.)

As they headed towards the airport, Alex was lost in thought while his parents continued arguing -- more like bickering really -- over the whole plan. Alex felt like almost his entire time back home in the United States had been spent in the car. All of his time with Nicky seemed so far away, almost a distant memory. Even so, it captured his thoughts, and as he mulled it over, it burned into the forefront of his consciousness and made him smile.

"Alex?"

Alex was suddenly aware that his mother had been addressing him and he hadn't heard it because he was so deep in his thoughts. "Sorry, Mom. I'm tired and wasn't really with it."

"I'd imagine so. We want you to promise to call us every single day. If you miss a day, we're going to have you sent back immediately."

"Don't worry. I promise I'll check in every day except, maybe, the first day, depending on when I arrive and all that. If nobody's home when I call, I'll leave a message so you don't worry."

"Now, I don't know what hotel you're staying at. They didn't tell us, and we forgot to ask. Make sure you call us and let us know."

Damn, she was getting on his nerves, harping about the calling. "I will, but I'm sure the Consul-General will let you know if you call him in the morning. You'll have your answer before I get there."

"That's a good idea, son. I'll call first thing in the morning," said his father. Alex was surprised at the compliment.

They arrived at the airport and parked the car in the parking garage. Alex would have preferred being dropped off, but he knew that wouldn't happen. Well, he'd be free of his parents soon enough. He'd also work on his plan to make everything okay again; life was easier that way even if everyone wasn't as happy.

As in most airports, the parking garage was a nightmare, and the nearest spot was located conveniently in another zip code. Alex hauled his luggage out, and his small carry-on bag as well. He carried them himself, since no help was forthcoming.

It was unsettling how quiet a parking garage in a noisy airport could be at night. It reminded him of the many horror movies he'd seen where the cameras were at foot level and when the main character stopped walking, sometimes you'd hear another step.

They walked in silence towards the terminal, getting on the elevator that would take them from the garage down to the walkway to the terminal. It was much noisier once they reached the terminal level. They crossed over the landside roadway and into the terminal building and looked for American Airlines. Alex wondered to himself if transferring airlines in New York would be difficult. That would be a first for him.

They found the airline quickly, and went to find the check-in area. It wasn't hard to find because, like most queues, it was full of people, with only two employees waiting on them. At the head of the line was an agent checking tickets, making sure people were getting into the proper line. Alex presented his ticket to the agent.

"The first-class line is over there, just on the other side of the corridor," said the agent, pointing over towards a counter separate from the others. "Present your ticket to the agent at the front to check-in." Alex wanted to ask why they had as many people checking tickets at the entrance to the line as they did working at the counter at the end of the line. No wonder the airlines were in trouble if they were this inefficient. He decided he didn't want to have that discussion now.

"Thank you," said Amanda, knowing Alex wouldn't mind his manners, and also knowing that reminding him in public would just spark a fight, something she didn't want to have in such a place. She knew Alex would get the point just as easily from her demonstration.

They walked towards the other counter, Alex wondered if this is what Disneyland felt like, wandering from one line to another with no apparent progress. Almost every experience Alex had at an airport involved endless lines that moved slowly. His parents must have had similar experiences because they had arrived at the airport well in advance of what was necessary. They were almost at their destination when a familiar face greeted them.

"Hello, Alex. Hello, Mrs. Maitland. And you must be Mr. Maitland. I'm Under Secretary Reardon from the British Consulate. I'm here to make sure everything runs smoothly." He stuck his hand out to Mr. Maitland first, and then shook Mrs. Maitland's hand, and then Alex's in turn. "The queue is just this way," and he motioned them to follow him.

The agent at the entrance to the line asked for Alex's ticket, and then he was ushered past when it was presented. The agent then asked for the tickets from the rest of them but Under-Secretary Reardon indicated they were only accompanying Alex for check-in purposes and not travelling.

Alex immediately noticed this line was considerably shorter with perhaps only twelve people, and there were four employees serving this much shorter line. The social implications of this were not lost on Alex. He considered commenting out loud, then realized it would probably be pointless. He resolved never to work for an airline, knowing he'd go mad with frustration.

They moved through the queue in no time. Alex presented his ticket and passport to the check-in agent. Reardon stood back respectfully, though Alex's parents were crowded a bit more closely. Alex answered the usual questions about his bags' whereabouts and contents, patiently waiting while the agent tapped away at her keyboard.

"I need to see your passport since you're booked through on an international flight."

Alex handed it over.

"Thank you sir," the agent said handing it back.

"As you're under eighteen, you need parental approval to leave the country."

"These are my parents behind me."

"Might I see some identification, please?"

After some shuffling of papers and barely cursory inspection, the agent was satisfied and returned her attention to Alex.

"Window or aisle, sir?"

"I don't really care. Aisle, I suppose."

"Yes, sir. Would you prefer a bulkhead?"

"No, I like to keep my bag under the seat in front of me."

"Very good, sir. You're in seat 3C going to New York, and in 4C on your return. I can't book your seats on the New York to Heathrow leg. You'll have to do that on arrival in New York. However, since we're partners with British Airways, your bags will be transferred without any need for you to reclaim them. Just walk straight out to the curb on the lower level and wait for the shuttle bus. It runs from terminal to terminal about every ten minutes. When you check in at JFK, they'll give you your customs forms."

"I understand. Thank you," said Alex, minding his manners after noticing his mother's earlier rebuke.

The agent continued, "Unfortunately, your parents can't go through security with you. Since this terminal has both domestic and international flights, only ticketed passengers may go through security. If you have any other questions, I'll be happy to answer them."

"No, that's fine. Thank you," replied Alex as the agent handed back his ticket. Alex was pleased at that turn of events.

"If you'd like, I can escort Alex to the gate area. I've got a diplomatic passport and can get through without a ticket. I don't mind at all." Although he addressed them both, this was clearly more directed at Mr. Maitland who seemed more agitated.

"Yes, fine. Fine," muttered Eric.

"Alex, you call us between flights in New York if you have the time. And you make sure you remember our original agreement. Stay in touch. Constantly."

"I will. I promise," insisted Alex. I'm going to go postal if she mentions me calling again. Parents! Ugh. His mother hugged him goodbye and, as usual, he felt uncomfortable and smothered by that simple act. His father shook his hand firmly. They walked him to the security gate, where they finally took their leave, but not before his mother got in one last hug. Alex just rolled his eyes back, giving into it. It wasn't worth a scene at this point. Thirty more seconds of agony and he'd be free.

Alex waved to them as he went through security, flashing his ticket when requested. He dutifully emptied his pockets into the basket before walking through the metal detector. Reardon came close behind him, flashing his diplomatic corps identification instead of a ticket. They went to the gate area to wait for the flight even though there was a good hour before departure. At this time of night, not much in the airport was open. They sat down near the gate and waited for boarding.

Alex was pondering the situation. Outwardly, it looked like he was simply sitting there waiting for his flight. Inwardly, his mind was racing. This situation felt odd to him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Well, there's no better way to find out than asking, I suppose.

"So, Mr. Reardon, why are you really here?"

"What do you mean, Alex? I'm not sure I understand the question." Reardon looked confused.

"Well, I'm boarding a plane. It's not even a British Airways flight so there's not much you can do here other than see me off. I'm not trying to be rude. It just doesn't make sense that you're here. There's no logic in it at all."

"Ah, well, we're just making sure all is well. We wouldn't want anything to happen, of course. We did promise your parents we'd look after you."

"That's logical. You're protecting your interests -- that's me -- making sure I actually show up and get on the plane."

"No need to be so harsh with me, but yes, that is the bottom line."

"I don't suppose you know why they really want Nicky's father? I'm curious, mind you."

"As I'm sure they told you, he just knows things he shouldn't. He'd never have been noticed had he not called about his son."

"Yes, so they said, but that doesn't make any sense either. I'm just trying to work out in my head what you're trying to do. I know you can't tell me, or maybe you don't even know. However, I can promise you I am going to figure it out."

"I'm sure it's just what they told you. We have procedures, protocols, and profiles, you know. If any of them get broken, we take immediate notice. I think you're just overanalyzing this situation."

"I don't think so; I really don't. Governments can't possibly waste time with every little problem, so they likely only pay attention to the bigger problems. That's what I think. Not that you asked."

Reardon was a bit agitated at the directness of Alex's statements, but was cut off before he could reply by the pre-boarding announcement. He couldn't believe that they'd managed to kill the entire hour.

The voice over the public address was a bit tinny, "Ladies and Gentlemen, American Airlines would like to announce the boarding of our flight to New York. We'll begin general boarding in a few moments. Right now, we'd like to board passengers needing a little extra time as well as our Platinum frequent flyer members, and our first class passengers. For those of you in our main cabin, please remain seated until you are called. We'll begin boarding from the rear of the cabin in just a few moments' time."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Reardon. I'll be boarding now," said Alex, getting up and walking towards the door. Alex walked towards the door to the jetway, Reardon accompanying him like a trained dog. As they reached the front of the line, Alex handed over his ticket, and turned to Reardon, "I do hope my services will be helpful to England." Alex hoped the sarcasm in his voice was evident.

"So do I, young sir. And a bit of advice that will serve you well: thinking too much can get one far more trouble than one would bargain for. Just do your job and stop thinking about it," and, with a sinister expression, Reardon turned and left as Alex entered the jetway. Reardon was still wondering about the bizarre exchange some hours later; he'd have to put it in his report.

As Alex entered the aircraft door, he was asked for his boarding pass. He presented it, and was shown to his seat. He wondered about that formality. It was almost impossible to get lost in an airplane. One, maybe two aisles, and the rows were numbered in order, as were the seats. How could you not find your seat? He supposed it must happen or they wouldn't go through this idiocy. Then again, judging by the efficiency at the front counter, maybe they would go through this idiocy.

Alex situated himself in his seat, and was overjoyed at the size of it. It was certainly more comfortable than a coach seat, though he wasn't particularly fond of the leather covering, preferring the fabric instead. What impressed him even more was the leg room between him and the next row.

Soon after he was seated, the flight attendant appeared. "May I get you a beverage, sir?"

"A vodka and tonic," he said, thinking himself very funny.

He was about to make his real beverage order when the flight attendant said, "You don't look old enough."

"I'm not. I don't drink. I was just trying to be funny."

"It didn't work," said the flight attendant with absolutely no humour in her voice.

"I'll have a Dr. Pepper, please."

"Sorry, we don't serve that on domestic flights."

Alex sighed, "Apple juice, perhaps?"

"I'll bring it right away."

"Thank you kindly." Alex was already irritated. Then again, it was his own fault for trying to be funny. He supposed he had nobody to blame but himself. It isn't my fault the cabin crew doesn't have a sense of humour.

The 767, being such a large aircraft, took quite a while to board. To pass the time, Alex scanned through the in-flight magazine to keep himself amused. He figured he'd be interrupted by jostling and such. He was surprised that he wasn't.

"Your drink, sir," said the flight attendant, handing Alex his beverage and a bag of peanuts, and then moving on as soon as he took them. He sipped on the juice as he continued perusing his magazine with very little interest.

Finally boarding was complete, and he was pleased to note that he had no seat-mate, which gratified him immensely. The flight attendant passed through the cabin, collecting all the glasses.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome aboard American Airlines flight 18 which is en route to New York's Kennedy Airport. If New York is not your final destination, please disembark now." She paused to make sure nobody was making a run for the exit.

"Because this is a late-night flight, there is no meal service on board. Shortly after take-off we will conduct a beverage service, followed by an in-flight movie. Headset rental will be available in the main cabin. Today's film is Billy Elliot and we'll show a preview after take off. The cabin lights will remain dim for most of the flight as most of you, no doubt, will wish to sleep. We'll also ask that those of you who aren't going to read, please keep your overhead light turned off and your window shade pulled down."

Alex noticed the plane had already begun to move while the flight attendant completed her spiel. The cabin crew roamed the aisles making sure that the passengers had their seat-backs and tray tables in the upright position and that carry ons were neatly stowed under the seat in front of the passenger.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please direct your attention to the front of the cabin where your flight crew will give you a demonstration of the safety procedures of this aircraft."

Alex zoned out at this point, not wanting to hear it all again. He knew he should listen, but he didn't. He was too busy contemplating the cosmic significance of Billy Elliot being shown on this flight. He thought immediately of Nicky. He was jarred out of his thoughts by the aircraft rolling down the runway at full take-off speed.

Shortly after take-off, the flight attendant for the first-class cabin drew the curtain shut. She went to each seat in turn taking beverage orders, while Alex observed her to pass the time. She came to him, "Would you like another apple juice, sir?"

"Yes, that will be fine."

"We have a small snack for the first class cabin, if you'd like. It's a turkey croissant with cheese and a small salad."

"That sounds good. I thought there wasn't any meal service on board this flight."

"That's only in the main cabin. We'll also serve you breakfast before we land."

"Cool. Can I rent a headset for the movie?"

"They're free in first class. Look in the seat pocket in front of you and you'll find a pair. The movie's audio is on channel one."

She moved on, and Alex felt silly. It must have been obvious he'd never flown first class before. Although the fact didn't embarrass him, the gaffes he made did cause him some discomfort. He didn't like to appear less than totally in control. Soon, the beverages and snacks were passed out to the passengers who wanted them. The short preview of the movie began. Alex finished eating and waited for the film to start, not wanting to begin a new book and then abandon it quickly for the film. He turned off his overhead light.

Soon, Billy Elliot had started. He watched intently, but it was growing late and Alex was weary. As good as it was, he'd already seen it and was tired, so not long afterwards, he had fallen asleep, and the film went on without him. The next thing he knew, he smelled breakfast and noticed some light about the cabin. He looked around and saw that some passengers were eating. The flight attendant took immediate notice, "Would you like breakfast, sir? You have a little time left. We have a ham and cheese omelette or French toast."

"Um, er, I don't know. Surprise me. I just woke up and my brain isn't working yet."

She smiled, and said "Alright, then. Coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Cream? Sugar?"

"Yes, please. Lot of both."

She left and was soon back with the omelette and his coffee. "You had better eat quickly as we'll be landing in under an hour."

"Wow! Was I really asleep that long?" No wonder my neck is so stiff. Sleeping while sitting is not comfortable. I must have been really tired.

"Apparently so."

"Thanks," said Alex simply, and began to eat.

He had barely finished when he heard another announcement, "Ladies and Gentlemen, we're pleased to announce that we'll be arriving soon. The crew will be around to collect any glasses, headsets, or other items. If you need to use the lavatory, please do so now as there isn't much time left before we land."

The cabin came alive with activity and Alex soon found his tray and cup whisked away. He tried to hand back the headset, but they told him to put it in the seat pocket if he wasn't going to listen to the music program.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we're pleased to announce the imminent arrival of this flight into New York's Kennedy Airport. Please be sure your seat-backs are in their upright position, your seatbelts are fastened, all tray tables are locked into place, and your luggage is safely stowed in the overhead bin or beneath the seat in front of you. We'll be coming around the cabin for a check shortly."

Soon the plane was coming in over New York, and Alex was able to admire the sights. He'd never been to New York before, though he had always wanted to go. Not being a frequent flyer, he didn't know the approach into New York's two main airports afforded some of the most amazing views of the city. It started with the Statue of Liberty watching over the entire city.

He caught glimpses of the famed New York skyline with all its famous skyscrapers. The Twin Towers stood at the foot of Manhattan like silent sentinels while the Empire State building soared skywards further uptown. The Hudson glistened and reflected the early morning sun while the majestic and iconic bridges filled with the morning traffic.

The wide expanse of Central Park spread out in the midst of the concrete jungle. It was awe-inspiring though, he thought, not particularly beautiful. A few moments later, before Alex had the time to fully absorb any more of the scenery, the plane was on the ground and taxiing towards the gate.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, American Airlines would like to welcome you to New York's Kennedy Airport, the terminating point of this flight. The local time is 7:45 in the morning. If this is your final destination, your bags may be claimed at carousel seven in the lower area. If you are transferring on to another flight I have connecting gate information," and she proceeded to read off many flight details, though he noticed his wasn't one of them. Seconds later his question was answered when she said, "If you're travelling to an international destination, an agent in a red coat outside the aircraft will give you further instructions."

A loud bing sounded as the seat belt light was turned off and the passengers began to rush forward. Being in first class did have its advantage here. Alex gathered his belongings and went towards the door well ahead of the mad rush. He walked up the jetway towards the concourse. There was very little jostling like there normally was, as most of the coach passengers had yet to fight their way forward.

As he exited the jetway, he noticed a tall man in a suit holding a sign that said A. Maitland in big, black, all capital letters. He supposed it must be for him, so he walked past the agent in the red coat, and up to the tall man, "Are you waiting for Alex Maitland?"

"Yes, sir, I am. Might you be him?" inquired the man in a crisp, English accent.

"I am. I take it you've been sent here to escort me to my next flight."

"That's correct. My name is Nigel. The consulate thought it would be helpful to you if I were at your disposal."

"I'm sure they did," said Alex in his most sarcastic tone, "Well, lead on."

"I can help you with luggage or anything else you might need."

"My luggage was checked straight through, Nigel. Thank you so much for offering, though." Alex didn't feel like a fight right now. He'd just cooperate for the few hours between flights.

"Very good, sir. We'll just step outside for the shuttle. It's actually much easier than a car. The traffic is positively atrocious here, especially at this busy time of the morning."

Alex noticed Nigel's English accent was different than most of the others he had become accustomed to. He wondered why, and asked.

"Sir, there is no mistaking a proper Oxford accent."

Alex thought it odd since one assumed the King and Nicky being a prince would have such an education. He knew he couldn't ask about it now.

They walked through the terminal, Alex noticing it was rather antiquated, and not particularly clean. It was in stark contrast to the glistening San Francisco airport which was modern, and beautiful. Well, at least it was beautiful for an airport. He wondered what Herb Caen would have thought of this airport.

They came to the front of the terminal, and took the escalator down, walking outside. The air was warmer and far more humid than Alex expected, but after travelling in an airplane, any fresh air was a good thing. He didn't care if it was ten degrees or a hundred. Alex vaguely noticed Nigel talking to him, but it didn't really register. Having never been to New York, he was still trying to look around. Unfortunately, the only things he could see were the airport and the freeway.

The shuttle bus arrived soon after, and they hopped on.

"So, young sir, we'll get you checked in, and into the lounge. I can tell you don't like my company. I can't say I blame you. I wouldn't like to be in your position either."

"Thanks. I mean that. You sound almost human. Sorry, that didn't come out right. I mean that at least you're normal. No, wait, that sounded worse. I'm sorry, I was just trying to pay you a compliment but it didn't work well. Maybe it's because I'm tired." Alex almost liked Nigel now, and he'd botched it up horribly.

"That's all right. I think I understand your sentiment. I'll take it as the compliment it was intended to be."

Alex was relieved, and engaged Nigel in some small talk as the bus made its rounds. Despite the short distance, it was about a fifteen-minute ride, due to all the stops the bus made at each terminal. Kennedy Airport had many terminals, each with just a few airlines. Alex had never heard of most of the airlines, but soon he saw the British Airways terminal, and knew they were arriving.

As they exited, Nigel motioned for Alex to follow him. They entered the international terminal, which was shared with a few other airlines, but it was relatively deserted at this hour of the morning as most international flights left later in the day.

Alex saw the array of British Airways check-in counters in front of him. Being so far in advance of departure, there weren't long lines at any of the counters. Alex noticed the check-in lines for coach, and then in the next aisle he saw business class, and past that was first class, though Nigel didn't slow.

"Er, Nigel, first class is over here. You're walking right by it."

"Yes, sir, I am aware of that. However, we have a special check in area. Just come this way then, and we'll have you checked-in in no time flat. After that we'll take you into the lounge where you can await your flight. Although I'm not supposed to leave you alone, I suppose I don't have to stay, I can leave you there alone if you'd like. I don't imagine you're going to run, are you?

"Run where, exactly?" said Alex, noting Nigel had all but confirmed he was sent to spy on him. "I'm halfway between home and my destination."

Nigel stopped right before they rounded the corner.

"I know. Besides, I've read the report. I'm probably the only one who thinks this, but I think you want to go back, and you'd have gone no matter had they asked you to float back in a raft. I've got a few suspicions beyond that, as well. However, you have my word I'll keep them all to myself."

"Why?" said Alex not even bothering to deny the accusation, knowing it to be true. But how the hell did he figure it out?

"Well, Alex, I disapprove of them using youngsters as bait, no matter how willing that bait may be. It's wrong. So, rather than clue them in that their scheme may have some bad planning, I'll just shut up."

"So, why tell me?"

"Because you won't turn yourself in."

Alex smiled. "I really do like you, Nigel. I really do."

"Thank you, sir, let's get you checked in. Follow me, please."

Nigel rounded the corner, Alex a few steps behind him. And at that moment, Alex's eyes grew really wide, and he shook his head in denial of what he saw. He just knew it couldn't be.

Alex came to a complete halt. In front of him was a set of automatic glass doors, the glass etched with a universally recognizable shape. "There's no way. Absolutely no fucking way. It can't be."