Local time – 12:05pm, Saturday 16th June, 2011.
Prague, Czechoslovakia.
In the cab from Henry’s hotel to the airport Alex felt too exhausted to speak. After so few hours’ sleep, the explosion and the news about Bernie, she was ready to fall into a heap. But there was something about Henry’s persistence that gave her the feeling she would regret turning him down.
Henry had managed to book flights to Tallinn with his credit card over the phone in the cab. He had plenty of time, as the usual half hour trip dragged out to over an hour. They came across traffic jams behind police cordons and streets full of confused and scared motorists. Alex lay back and closed her eyes for most of the journey.
The pre-booking was a blessing; when they got to the airport without baggage, they were able to go straight up to a ticketing machine to print out their boarding passes. As Henry entered their check in details, Alex rummaged through her satchel.
‘What is it?’ Henry asked, with not even a hint of impatience.
‘My passport... I think I must have left it at my hotel... ’
‘You don’t need your passport. We’re in the EU. There are no international borders here.’ Alex hurried forward, feeling stupid, as Henry added, ‘Another of Bilderberg’s triumphs.’
Henry left Alex waiting in an airport café while he confirmed the details of their return flight. He returned minutes later and quickly ate the sandwich she had bought for him.
‘How long is the flight?’ Alex asked.
‘Less than two hours. It leaves in twenty. I booked us to come back tonight. That will give us time enough to have a look around. And Alex, when we go through security, let me handle it.’ Alex was about to ask why when Henry pulled her too him and kissed her gently on the cheek. She felt an unexpected glow of warmth. ‘I’ll explain everything soon,’ he said.
The plane was packed with edgy passengers. Those speaking English were talking about the bomb, and Alex guessed the others were too. She was seated next to Henry, who had the aisle seat. As the crew readied the plane for take off, Henry seemed to be preoccupied searching for something in his backpack. Alex sat silently until the plane sped up and lifted into the air. Henry eventually put his bag under the seat in front of him and sat back.
‘So you’ve been to Tallinn before?’ Alex asked.
‘Is this an interview?’
‘It’s not on the record, but I’ve agreed to come with you. Now I need facts. You said you found proof that... ’ Henry shook his head. Alex took the hint and stopped talking.
The plane was levelling out and the noise of the engines no longer drowned their voices. He mimed holding a pen and drawing on his leg. Alex understood. She reached under her seat and pulled out Bernie’s iPad, turning it on and opening the notepad.
She tapped in the words: What proof is there in Tallinn? and passed it to Henry.
I’ve got proof the Bilderbergers are forming a world govt he wrote. She twisted to stare at him. He kept writing. I can’t explain it all now, but I promise I will.
She grabbed the iPad back. I’m not interested in conspiracy theories. My article needs real facts. He nodded, and wrote: Facts are in Tallinn. He then tapped shut the document, erasing their conversation. Alex typed out one more question before she put the iPad away.
How do you know all this? He looked like he was about to write something, but then decided against it and put his finger to his lips. They sat in silence for a few minutes and eventually she shut her eyes, wondering if she could relax enough to snooze. Henry put his hand on her thigh and rested it there. A warm calm settled over her and she slept.
‘Shit, shit.’
Alex woke up an hour later, unaware of how long she had been asleep or why Henry was quietly swearing. He was peering down the aisle and when he turned back to her, his expression filled her with alarm. She glanced out the window, and it occurred to her they were on the tarmac of what must be Tallinn airport. She then saw the reason for Henry’s concern. There were armed police boarding the plane.
Henry hissed, ‘Don’t speak,’ just as the plane’s speaker crackled. The hostess was announcing something to the passengers in Estonian. Everyone stayed in their seats, some reaching into bags for passports. The two policemen methodically made their way down the plane, ticking names off a list. Alex sat completely still, paralysed by the unbidden knowledge that their search had something to do with her. Henry calmly leafed through his backpack, and just as the policemen reached them, he pulled out his passport. It was red. The policeman snatched it, and his eyes darted between the photo and Henry’s face. Alex made out the words ‘République Française’ on the cover. After scrutinising it for a couple more seconds, the policeman snapped it shut and handed it back. He shoved his open hand at Alex, requesting she give him her passport. She ignored his glare.
Henry said loudly,
‘C’est ma femme. Juliet Rousseau.’ His French accent was believably good. A hush hung in the air as the man with the list searched for Juliet Rousseau. He found it quickly, since it was directly underneath Juliet’s husband: Olivier Rousseau. The name in the passport. Two ticks on the list and the policemen finally moved on.
Henry’s sharp look told Alex not to say anything until they were safely outside the terminal. When she went to turn her phone on, he took it from her and removed the SIM card. He kept her close to him, shielding her from view, and ushered her away from the taxi queue.
‘They were looking for me, weren’t they?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I’m almost positive they were.’
‘But why?’
‘Your colleague Bernie was meant to be in the police station. Now they’ve had time to learn of his replacement. But fortunately they didn’t expect you to be on this flight. They’re just checking everything out of Prague. And I booked Alex North on a Lufthansa flight to Berlin. Gives us a bit of time.’ Alex starred at him.
‘So what ID did you show at security?’ was all she could think of to say. He handed her an ID card with the same photo as on her passport and the name Juliet Rousseau on it.
‘I am not without resources,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t stand up to professional scrutiny, but it’s good enough to pass on a quick glance.’ She was speechless.