Alberta Clipper (39 page)

But maybe she hadn’t attended the conference the second day at all.  Maybe when Sally had seen her checking out, she had actually been checking out.  Running away.  He bit his lip as he remembered how he had decided not to call her mobile that evening.  He had thought that she needed some space.  But he should have texted her at least.  If he hadn’t had to meet
Marcus
for dinner, he might have thought about it more.  And yesterday had been so hectic in the London office.  But he should have called her.  He should have checked up on her.  He had just assumed he would see her today.  He had been half-planning to ask her for a drink after work, although he wasn’t hopeful that she would have agreed. 

But now. 

Now she was on the other side of the globe.  Mark looked out at the cold, grey clouds, which spat on his window pane.  It was summer where she was now.  He did a quick calculation in his head.  If she had gone straight to the airport on Wednesday morning, she could have got a flight later that day.  It was possible.  Or maybe she had left yesterday.  Either way, she would most likely be in Australia now.  With her sister. 

Mark closed his eyes as he tried to remember if he knew where in Australia her sister was.  Australia was a big place. 
Christ.  Poor Christine. 
His
BlackBerry
buzzed on the desk in front of him making him jump in his seat.  He grabbed at it, but it was just his
mate
Tom, looking to see if he would meet him for a pint later that evening.  Mark stared at the phone in his hand.  Should he call her?  Text her?  Leave her alone?  He almost suffered a second heart attack in thirty seconds when the landline on his desk rang.  He could feel the perspiration on the back of his neck.

“Yes?”  He knew it was the reception desk by the ringtone.

“Mark, Amanda here.  I’ve got Matt Grogan on line four for you?  He says he Christine’s father?  Mark? Mark?”

“This is Mark Harrington.  Mr. Grogan?”

“Mark.  Thanks, thanks for taking my call.”

“Of course.  Is everything okay?”  Mark felt a cold chill wash over him as he realised that everything could not be okay.  Why else would Christine’s father be on the phone right now.  He held his breath.

“Well, I’m not sure really.  I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

“Is she alright?”  Mark wasn’t convinced that he was giving the impression of merely a concerned boss, but he couldn’t help it.  “Is Christine alright?”

“Well, I think so.”  Matt didn’t sound distraught, which gave Mark hope.  “She went to visit her sister in Australia.  It was a bit, last minute, I think.” 

“I know.  We attended a conference together in London on Tuesday.  She’s taken three weeks leave.”  Mark wasn’t sure how honest he needed to be.  “What’s wrong, Mr. Grogan?  Has she not gone to her sister like she was supposed to?”

All the thoughts that had been trying to gain entry to Mark’s psyche since he had been made aware of Christine’s unplanned trip, now had full access to his brain.  What had she done?  She had been very upset, very depressed.  Was she missing?  Could she have -?  For a second, Mark thought he might throw up.

“Call me Matt, please.  No, she
left for
Sydney alright, it’s just, she was flying via Bangkok.  She was supposed to change planes there on Thursday morning.  Yesterday morning.  She should have been flying on to Sydney from there.  But now, now she seems to be caught up in whatever the hell is going on over there.”

Matt’s voice started to break, and Mark could sense the man’s worry, but all he heard was that Christine was okay.  She was still alive.

“She phoned me yesterday morning,” Matt continued, “and she seemed to be coping.  She said that they weren’t being badly treated, but they hadn’t been allowed leave the plane when it landed.  And now the battery in her phone must be dead, because I can’t get through to her at all.  And the last I could see on the TV was that no one was being let in or out of the -”

“Hang on, Mr. Grogan.  Matt.  What are you talking about?  In or out of where?”

Matt was silent for a moment.  “Bangkok airport?  It’s been taken over by demonstrators.  Some political thing.  It’s been on the news.  They’ve managed to take over the airport, and no one is being let in or out.”

Mark clicked his mouse as he listened, opening the BBC news website.  He had heard
on morning radio
that something
was
going on over there, but he hadn’t paid much attention to it.

“Look, I’m sorry to call you,” Matt said, “but I just thought, maybe you might have someone over there.  I mean, I know you have an office in Singapore and, well, it’s just, I can’t get in touch with her, and, I know how these things can go, and -”

“Matt, you were absolutely right to phone me.  I didn’t know Christine had flown through Bangkok.  If I had, believe me,” Mark took a deep breath.  “Christine is not just an employee.  She, she’s a friend.”  He clicked on a link, and a recently updated report on the situation filled his computer screen.  “Hold on, Matt, I just have the news open here.”

It wasn’t good.  As he listened to the video report, Mark could tell that the situation was getting more unstable.  Men with scarves over their faces could be seen inside the main door of what appeared to be a terminal building.  It was reported that no one had been let in or out of the main terminal since Thursday morning.  The report said that more than ten planes were sitting stationary on the runways, full of passengers.  Planes which had been just ready to take off, or had just landed, when the airport had been shut and air traffic control suspended.  One
of
them must be Christine’s plane.  Mark squinted at the photographs on the website.

“What airline did she travel with from London?” he asked Matt.

Matt rustled some papers.  “Eh, British Airways.  She was still on it when I spoke to her last.  They hadn’t been allowed disembark.  That was, that was yesterday.”

Mark could hear the anxiety in Matt’s voice.  “Okay.  Matt, I’m going to get on to Singapore.  I’m not sure they’ll be any help, but I’ll try anyway.  And I’ll get on to the Thai embassy here, and the Irish embassy over there.  We’ll find out what’s going on.”  Mark wasn’t even sure if there was an Irish embassy in Thailand, but right now, he just wanted to reassure Christine’s father as best he could.  “And Matt, why don’t you come in here.  To the office.  If you can.  That way, we can co-ordinate our efforts better.”

“Okay.”  If Matt suspected that his daughter’s boss was going beyond his responsibility to her, he didn’t comment on it.  “Thank you Mark.  I really appreciate your help.”

Mark sat back in his chair.  “Of course.  Like I said, Christine’s not just an employee.”

The line was
silent for a moment. 

“Okay.  I’ll be there within an hour.  Thanks again.”  Matt hung up the phone.

Mark sat still for a moment.  Then he clicked his mouse again to see if there was any update on the news website.  A wave of nausea washed over him.

Christine.

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine the inside of the airplane.  She would have been on it for more than twenty-four hours now.  God know what it would be like.  Stagnant air, no food, probably no fresh water.  Screaming children, people needing medication.  Terror about what could be about to happen.  He tried to visualise her.  At least she was young and healthy.  She would be alright.  For a while.

Mark looked back at his computer and clicked on the photos again, searching for any sign of a BA plane parked on the runway.  His hand shook on the mouse.  The sensation was unfamiliar to him, but he knew what it was.  It was fear.  He was genuinely afraid.  Afraid for Christine.  He had never felt this way before in his life.  It made him think of what the past week might have been like for
Shay
and
Nina
.  He was physically shaking.  Physically sick.  Because it was Christine.  Because he loved her.

Mark pressed his hands against his face.  Then he laid them flat on the desk for a moment before picking up the phone handset again.

“Petra?  Get Amanda and
Shay
.  I need the three of you in my office.  Now.”

~

As the sun set, it cast a luminous glow over the cabin.  Although the orange light heralded the beginning of another night in hell, the darkness descending on the airplane had the effect of calming the traumatised passengers a little.  Mothers and fathers, functioning on basic survival instinct now, made little beds of foam pillows and blankets across seats for their bewildered children to sleep in.  In the absence of electric light, the passengers around Christine retreated to their seats, the closest thing each of them had to a home at that point.  They settled down for what seemed increasingly likely to be a second night on the runway at Bangkok airport.  The exhausted flight attendants walked deliberately along the aisles, checking on people as they went.  Christine had only seen one young stewardess break down under the strain, and she had been quickly whisked away by a more senior colleague to the galley where she could pull herself together.  Continuing to carry out their caretaking roles seemed to have helped the crew stay relatively calm.  Christine wondered how long that could continue.  They must be terrified like everyone else. 

The two stewardesses that had been working the area of the plane where Christine’s seat was were both from London.  One of them, Anna, was young.  No more than twenty-five, Christine guessed.  The other, Vera, looked
like she might be
in her fifties.  The matriarch of the staff.  She passed Christine’s row before stopping, and taking a step backwards.  She put her hand on Christine’s shoulder.

“Are you okay, lovie?” she whispered.

Christine nodded, swallowing tears, making her head ache.  “I’m fine,” she whispered back.

“And herself?”  Vera raised her eyebrows at a tiny, ancient-looking Asian woman sitting asleep next to Christine, her mouth open, revealing a dearth of teeth.

“I think so,” Christine nodded.  “She’s alright for the moment, anyway.”

Vera patted Christine’s shoulder with a grateful smile.

“How are you guys holding up?” Christine searched her face for any sign that Vera knew more about the situation in the terminal building than she was letting on.

“We’re okay,” she said. 

Christine wasn’t convinced.  “And there’s no more news?”

“No
,
my dear.”  She leaned in a little closer to Christine’s shoulder.  “They told the captain that they would get us off the plane as soon as they could.  They haven’t said anything else since.  That was a few hours ago.  When they delivered the water.”

“Even to get into the terminal building,” Christine fanned her sweaty tee-shirt against her chest.

“I know
,
lovie,
I know.”  Vera started to move
along again.

“I’m sorry,” Christine grabbed her arm.  “Look, I’m fine.  If I can help you guys at all, just let me know.”

Vera smiled at her.  “Thank you, dear.”

“Christine.”

“Christine.  You are helping by looking after herself.  Do you know her?”  The little Asian granny snorted as if she had heard them talking about her as she slept.

“No, I just happened to be sitting next to her.”  Christine looked at her companion.  We were both travelling alone.” 

“Well, as I say, if you can keep an eye on her, make sure she’s drinking enough water.  There’s plenty of water now.  Just don’t let her get dehydrated.  The same goes for you.”

“Okay, thank you.”  Christie smiled, and Vera squeezed her shoulder before continuing on down the aisle.

The sun set quickly, taking the last of the light with it, and it wasn’t long before the plane was in almost total darkness.  It was remarkable to Christine how everyone seemed to be adjusting.  When all unn
atural interferences were taken
away, people
’
s bodies reacted to the darkness by telling them to settle down, to rest.  Christine looked at her watch, straining to see it by the second-hand light waning through the windows of the plane from the terminal building.  She hadn’t adjusted it yet.  It said it was eleven-twenty
AM
back in Dublin.  Twenty past six in the evening on the runway in Bangkok.  Normally, she would only be getting home from work at this time, thinking about getting dinner, or on her way out to meet Emily for a drink.  Normally.  But these circumstances were anything but normal.  Christine shivered.  The air was still stifling on board, but the temperature seemed to have dropped a littl
e with the sun.  Sh
e reached for the blanket that was draped over the knees of the old lady next to her, and
pulled it a little higher on the woman’s
lap.  She looked around her.  Those not distracting themselves with the care of others were sitting quietly, eyes closed, trying to sleep through the terror.  A woman in her thirties caught Christine’s eye before looking away.  Christine watched as the woman stared at the back of the chair before her.  Her hands were clasped around her armrests like someone flying through a particularly turbulent patch of airspace.  Christine looked away, disturbed.  She recognised the look in the woman’s eyes.  It was fear.  Fear was the prevailing mood in the cabin.  Hunger and exhaustion had moved aside to allow it top billing.