1.
So here I am, sitting in Jabar’s private jet, and on my way to New York to bring a devil into line or, when it comes to the worst, to get his memory blotted out by Diedie.
I’m having a book with me to kill time and to take my mind off things. Although it isn’t my first order, I’m still nervous. So much could go wrong and I hate making things hot for an otherkind. They are, after all, just like me and not fully human.
The view is a real bore and the book can’t hold my interest, so I decide to keep the pilot some company. Automatically, I reach for my side where my pistol used to be. Of course I’m not having it on me right now. The airport security of Ostend would not thank me for that, even though I have a gun license. It so happens that it is only legitimate in Belgium. I’m missing my Glock 17 and my, yet illegal, blackjack that’s normally in the inside pocket of my leather jacket.
I put the book on the empty chair and stand up. It still feels odd to be the only passenger in an airplane. It’s a Falcon 900C that purrs like a spoiled kitten. I’ve been told that normally it can seat for about eighteen passengers. Nevertheless, Jabar made it redecorate in order to fit five luxurious grey leather armchairs, a suite, a large bathroom and a kitchen. Originally, the type was called Mystère, but it didn’t appeal well to the American market. Too bad, because I think the first name fits us best.
The cockpit’s door isn’t locked. It would have no use. A locked door, even though it would be armored, doesn’t stop me.
I open the door and look inside. ‘Tony, I’m here to keep you company. Is that alright?’
‘No problem, Manon. Make yourself comfortable.’
The co-pilot isn’t present at the moment; he probably retired to the sleeping cabin. I’m taking his seat, which is at Tony’s right hand. The view from the cockpit is far more fascinating than the one from the little windows where I was sitting first. I’m taking a seat and enjoy myself, impressed by the mass of clouds we’re flying through. Tony is being relaxed, sitting back in his chair, but he’s staying focused. These buttons, pointers and signs, I fail to see what it’s all about. The only thing I know is that this jet can fly about 1000 feet higher than a Boeing and that it flies faster, although the game of time doesn’t matter.
Jabar has once put forward the idea of letting me take flying lessons; both for the jet and the helicopter he has standing in his garden. I immediately refused the offer. I’m not at all technically-minded and mathematics was my weakest course at school. No, I wouldn’t trust myself as a pilot.
Tony is nervously biting his lower lip and I can already guess why. ‘Missing a cigarette?’ I ask him.
‘Kinda. Even those clouds remind me of smoke.’
‘Light one up than.’
He shakes his head heavily.
‘No, I promised myself not to smoke while flying.’
‘It wouldn’t bother me if you’d smoke,’ I assure him.
‘Do you know what’s pathetic?’ His smile wavers. ‘I once was out of cigarettes at home. It was night already and I didn’t feel like looking for a night shop. But I was willing to lick off the ceiling just to get enough nicotine down.’
Tony is an angel. Their biggest weakness? Right, smoking. Maybe it’s in their DNA, because I’ve rarely met an angel that didn’t smoke.
‘Still an hour before arrival. It was an easy flight.’ He clearly wants to change the subject of our conversation.
I sink deeper into my chair and heave a sigh.
‘Difficult task?’ Tony asks me.
‘Nah, it won’t be so bad, I think. I hope.’
‘What? What kind of otherkind are you going to deal with?’
‘Probably a devil.’
‘Devil? They usually don’t cause any problems. Even when they’re drunk, they’re like newborn babes.’
‘Well, I’ve already dealt with something else.’ I grin at that thought.
‘Than he must have had enough drinks.’
‘She. It was a she and yes, she drank about five bottles of bourbon.’
‘What did he do?’
For a while, I look at him incomprehensively.
‘That devil in New York.’
‘We suspect he has used his gift to rob different stores at Fifth Avenue.’
‘Not so good. Was he drunk?’ Tony grins at me. His snow-white hairs, thé angels’ characteristic, shine as if they give light themselves.
‘Maybe,’ I say smilingly. ‘That robbing is one thing. Should be something for the police to deal with, but if they eventually succeed in catching him and figure out what he has done precisely. Luckily he thought about stripping the security cameras.’
‘That chance is small, isn’t it?’ Tony looks at me with a frown.
‘You never know. Jabar doesn’t want to take risks.’
Tony nods. ‘Rightly so.’
For a while we’re occupied with our own thoughts. I wonder if the world will ever be ready to accept us, otherkinds, without immediately labeling us as “freaks”. After all, we’re a side branch of the human kind and we exist just as long as they do. The only difference between the humans and us is that specific parts of our brains evolved differently, which makes us strangely gifted. Further on, our DNA only differs slightly. So slightly that, so far, they weren’t able to detect it. Nevertheless, we fear that it will not last that long anymore and we hope to have found a solution by then. It so happens that it is crucial to keep our existence under cover. Not a single otherkind feels like getting part of a charade or getting stripped down in the name of science.
I stand up. ‘I’ll get some coffee.’
‘Tasty. Black, just like my ladies. And no sugar, although I like my women to be sweet.’ He chuckles silently.
First I’m going to fresh myself up. My worn-out face betrays that I have had a short night behind me. At this moment I still look like I usually do, shoulder-length dark blond hair, grey-blue eyes, a somewhat crooked nose and high cheekbones. I’m free to adapt it, but than I would never be myself.
I’m really feeling naked without my weapons, missing the pressure against my side. Luckily, one of Jabar’s chaps is awaiting me in New York with the needed munitions. It somewhat makes me feel at ease.
In the luxurious chrome kitchen, amply provided for comfort and more, I make two cups of coffee and wait until they’re ready. For the second time I check whether the note with the address upon it, is in my pant’s pocket. I’ve dressed myself casual and nondescript for this assignment. A white blouse on a jeans and ankle-high boots. I grin when looking at the boots’ heels. Their height doesn’t come in very handy when it comes to a fight, but I’m not expecting one. I rarely wear heelless shoes, because my length, 1 meter 63, is the only thing I cannot adapt at will, unless I make the shape of my body ridiculously thin.
Coffee’s ready and I run with the two cups towards the cockpit.
‘Hm, I can really use one of those,’ Tony says and he thankfully takes a cup. He almost swallows the coffee in one draught down. I wonder if he has burned his throat. I take a seat and only nip a little bit from the hot brew.
‘New York is beautiful this time of the year,’ Tony says. ‘How long do you think you’ll need?’
Of course, he hopes to do some sightseeing before our return to Ostend tomorrow. And to Tony ‘sightseeing’ is all about the females. It wouldn’t be the first time I would catch him with a pretty piece.
‘I have no idea, Tony. I’ll call you on your cell phone. I expect to have it done today in order to leave as soon as possible tomorrow.’
We finish our coffees in silence. That’s what I like so much about Tony. Right before an order I’m in need of company, but also silence, how contradictory that may sound. Tony, who knows me for two years, knows this and keeps it in mind. Sometimes I want to prepare myself mentally and sometimes I need distraction. Nevertheless, more often these two needs intertwine and I hop from one need into the other.
It’s time to land and the co-pilot is joining. The co-pilot or First Officer is not a permanent employer of Jabar. It’s never the same person, but so far always a human. I’m disappearing from the cockpit and take away the empty cups.
When I take my seat again in the leather chair, I fasten my seatbelt. I believe this is the best thing about flying; the landing and the take off.
The swelling sound of the engine, the runway coming closer and closer and finally the light wobbly landing of the plane. For me, it can’t last long enough.