The Key

48

New Jersey, USA

It was three in the morning when Liv cleared immigration at Newark Liberty International Airport. She had somehow managed to stay awake through the twelve-hour flight using a combination of coffee and fear of what might happen if she slept. As a result, she was wired and scratchy and almost hallucinating with fatigue as she emerged into the headache-inducing brightness of the large and mostly deserted concourse.

A cleaner was pushing a large polishing machine across the hard floor in a slow, depressed waltz, while catatonic passengers looked on from the only coffee shop that was open, sipping wakefulness from paper cups. A few suited chauffeurs formed a welcoming committee, holding up cards with different names in a variety of handwriting. It gave Liv a feeling of deja vu. When she had landed in Turkey over a week ago she had seen her own name amongst these greetings — the first time she had met Gabriel. She scanned the row of quizzical faces now, knowing the impossibility of his being there, but seeking him out all the same. Though she hardly knew him, she missed him.

She headed towards the exits, her lack of luggage allowing her to steal a march on other passengers. The night made dark mirrors of the glass doors and she hardly recognized herself as she approached them. She could see the dark circles under her eyes and the clothes hanging off her already skinny frame. It was as if she had left this airport as one person and returned as another. She took another step towards her strange self and the automatic doors slid open, removing her from sight and revealing the night beyond.

Dick had also beaten the crowd. He too travelled with hand luggage because he wanted to stay fluid. Some people who’d been inside surrounded themselves with tons of stuff once they got out. To Dick that seemed like building a new kind of prison. He preferred being able to walk out of anywhere at a moment’s notice without worrying about who or what he was leaving behind — that was true freedom. He never gave much thought to other people’s feelings, he wouldn’t have been able to do his job if he did.

He drifted across the concourse, keeping a useful distance between himself and Liv. He kept tabs on her with his peripheral vision while checking his phone, looking like a flight-crumpled businessman chained to his BlackBerry. As she passed through the door, he picked up his pace. The time difference had landed them in Newark at the perfect time. Three in the morning was statistically the quietest time of the day, and less people meant more opportunity.

It was colder outside than he had anticipated, which was also in his favour. The cold drove people away and kept them indoors.

Ser-en-dip-ity

He scoped the area, checking for dark spots and possible witnesses. A few cab drivers were sitting in their cars with heaters on and engines running. The nearest one gave him a hopeful look then returned to his paper when Dick ignored him. He could see the blonde hair of the girl shining in the dark, made brighter by the sickly wash of the overhead sodium lights. She was moving away, heading towards the bus stop. If she got on a bus it might be a problem. He would have to get on it too to ensure he didn’t lose her and she would most likely remember him from the flight. He didn’t want to spook her, not yet at least.

He drifted past the line of parked cabs, still scrutinizing his phone though actually checking security. Since 9/11 all airport terminal buildings had become lousy with cameras. You couldn’t scratch your nose without some security guard somewhere getting five different angles on it. Fortunately the girl had moved away from the entrance where most of the cameras were focused. It was as though she was offering herself up for sacrifice. He had hoped he might get her alone — talk to her — but the opportunist in him far outweighed the playful. His best opportunity was now. The taxi drivers all focused on the entrance, waiting for a fare, the cameras pointing elsewhere, no one else around. She stopped by the bus shelter and looked up the empty road. No bus. No one else waiting.

Dick made his decision.

He cut through a couple of parked cabs and headed across the road towards her, hoping to get it done before other passengers started to appear from the building. During the flight he had spent a long time watching the back of her head as she read her book, his eyes tracing the slender line of her neck, his hands opening and closing in his lap as he imagined them tightening round it. He had imagined the sound it would make as it broke: Snap — like a breadstick, or the stem of a wine glass.

He reached the central reservation and she looked up. She was so small compared to him that he figured he could stand in front of her and mask her whole body with his. No one would hear him ask her when the bus was coming, no one would see him snap her head back when she opened her mouth to answer. He was about to take the last few steps when she turned away and did something totally unexpected.

She waved.

Dick glanced down the street to where she was looking. A set of headlights was speeding towards them. Cars were not usually allowed in the bus lanes, but as it drew closer Dick saw why this one was. It was a police cruiser.

He raised his phone to his ear and walked right past her, heading towards the short-stay car park whilst fumbling for nonexistent keys in his pocket. Just another businessman returning from a badly scheduled trip.