Chapter 1: Introduction
It was getting dark. The sky, which had recently been flooded with the soft hues of sunset, was now deep and velvety, studded with the first stars. The terminal across the street had a life of its own, its huge glass walls glowing a warm bronze. Inside, the figures of passengers flashed: some were hurrying to the gate, some were pulling their coffee at the café counter. The long corridors flooded with light seemed endless, and the planes in the car parks, wrapped in the soft glow of searchlights, waited patiently for their turn.
The cockpit of the A320 was a symphony of softly humming electronics and glowing instrument panels. Vanessa, the captain, sat in her seat, her fingers entering the flight plan into the flight computer with the ease of butterflies. Her blonde hair, gathered in a tight bun, emphasised her sharp and commanding features. Today was her last flight before her well-deserved holiday, and she was doing her best to fend off the anticipation.
Anna, the co-pilot, sat to her right; her dark curls framed her fair face. Her eyes, bright and impatient, darted between Vanessa and the checklist in her lap.
- You know, Vanessa," she said in a voice barely above a whisper, "I've been thinking about something.
- Not here, Anna. You know the rules.
At that moment the door to the cockpit opened and a panting operator appeared with a stack of papers in his hands.
- Captain, here's the flight manifest," he said, handing the papers to Vanessa.
Vanessa picked up the manifest and ran her eyes over the passenger list.
- Thank you," she said, her voice automatically polite.
She noticed Anna's eyes sliding over the list and curiosity in her gaze.
- Only one passenger? - Anna asked, bewilderment audible in her voice.
Vanessa looked up from her list and met Anna's gaze.
- Exactly," replied the captain. - Check the takeoff weight, Anna.
- Captain, everything is normal. Just one passenger, the whole plane is ours.
Vanessa grinned, glancing at the empty seats visible through the open cockpit door.
- Well, let's keep the bra on for now. We still have a flight to make.
She reached for the radio, and her fingers gripped the microphone with practised ease....
Paul walked down the long corridor of the airport, flooded with the soft light of evening lamps. Dusk was fading behind the wide glass walls: the sky was dark blue with the occasional glow of distant aircraft lights. Inside there was a muted business atmosphere - the rustle of footsteps, the occasional clanking of suitcase clasps, soft announcements, as if set to a quieter evening rhythm.
Paul moved confidently and briskly, his expensive shoes treading soundly on the smooth floor stylised as expensive parquet, and the small suitcase behind him rolling almost silently. He was wearing a strict business suit of a deep blue shade. He glanced occasionally at his watch. It was about eight o'clock in the evening, a time when most people relaxed, but not him.
Cafes flashed by on the side. Shops with elegant windows and quiet lighting offered expensive accessories and perfumes. Paul hardly noticed these details - his attention was focused on the signposts.
A sign appeared in front of him: Gate 42. The laconic letters and numbers on a dark background reminded him of the destination that awaited him there, outside the airport. There was plenty of time, but Paul was not used to slowing down. His gait said: everything was under control....