At first I think I must have misheard. Gavin is standing there in that relaxed way of his; his eyes are friendly, but he’s not fooling me with that. Sure, he’d take a bullet for me, but there was no way I could talk him into doing something that contradicts my father’s orders.
OK. I’ll get this cleared up right away.
“I spoke to Dad on the phone yesterday, and again a few hours ago—it’s already been decided that Erik is coming with me. You’ve misunderstood.”
Not a muscle twitches in Gavin’s face, but there’s something not unlike sympathy in his expression. “I’m certain that I haven’t. We have instructions to bring you home, just you. No matter what the circumstances.”
Gavin has been working for my family since I was fourteen. He was there on all of our vacations—and on most of my dates. One of two silent shadows sitting at the table next to me, keeping an eye on the entrance of the restaurant while I would hold hands with my respective companion. I never managed, not one time, to convince Gavin to give me some privacy for even half an hour.
Although that was a long time ago.
I take Erik’s hand. “He’s coming with me. I’ll be responsible for him.”
A soft, barely visible shake of the head. “Sorry as I am to say it, Joanna, you won’t be responsible. And it’s not your decision.”
Despite Gavin’s Australian twang, Erik can understand every word, there’s no question of that. It only takes one glance at him to see that he understands exactly what’s going on here. I squeeze his hand tighter.
“I’m calling Dad,” I say to Gavin, and hope he can hear from the tone of my voice that his job will be on the line. “Hopefully that will clear things up. If I can’t reach him, it’s my orders that count, not his. And certainly not what you understand them to be.”
I let go of Erik’s hand and take a few steps to the side. It takes a few seconds before the call goes through. As I press the phone to my ear and listen to the dial tone, I try to get my unbridled rage under control, otherwise I won’t hit the right note with Dad. I’m half expecting him not to answer—he’s organized everything; now it’s up to his subordinates, and it’ll all run like clockwork. Like always.
But he picks up after the third ring.
“Hello, Jo.” His voice doesn’t sound drowsy in the least. He was awake. Maybe he was even waiting for me to call. I grip my phone tighter.
“Hi, Dad. I’m at the airport already.”
“Yes, I know. And the plane is there already as well, I just got word from the pilot.”
Right, deep breath. “OK. Listen, Dad, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding. Gavin is refusing to take Erik on board, even though I told him several times that you and I agreed on it. Could you please tell him that he has to follow my instructions?”
From the corner of my eye I can see Erik turning away. If it’s true what he says, and he has known me for almost a year—he properly hasn’t seen this side of me. He’ll probably like it just as little as I do, but that doesn’t matter right now.
My father hasn’t responded yet, only cleared his throat. That’s not a good sign.
“No, no, that’s all correct,” he says now.
“Excuse me?”
“Come on, Jo. We can always bring this Erik over later if we really have to. But for now, just you come home. Alone. I want to speak to you in private.”
I try to stop myself from the yelling on the phone. “We have a deal. I’m expecting you to keep it.”
No, that wasn’t a good move. It would have been smarter to play the daughter he’d like to have: obedient, full of admiration for her daddy, and possibly not bright enough to have a will of her own.
“We did indeed have a deal.” All trace of fatherly understanding has disappeared from his voice. “That you’re allowed to have your fun in Europe and none of us would ask you any questions. That you would marry Matthew as soon as you got back. And yesterday you suddenly tell me about some fiancé? Who you want to bring with you?” He bursts out laughing, only to shout even more angrily into the phone afterward, “Forget it, Jo. You reneged on your side of the deal, and I’m not going to keep my side of it. You’re flying home now, and if Gavin even thinks about letting your lover on board, then God help him.”
I close my eyes for a moment. I can no longer feel the burning rage inside me, just cold. And an intense clarity.
“You lied to me. On purpose. Yesterday and now again today.”
He laughs again. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. It won’t work. Unfortunately you still don’t know what’s good for you, and so you just have to rely on the people who are better able to judge.”
I still don’t feel any rage, despite what he just said. But the fear is coming back with a vengeance. The realization that it’s not yet over.
“Have a nice life, Dad.”
I hear him gasp for air. He understands, of course, he knows me. “You’re flying home, just so that’s clear. Don’t even think about putting up a fight, I’ll block all your accounts, and if it’s necessary Gavin will just have to force you onto that damn plane—”
I hang up. See Gavin shrugging in commiseration. I told you, didn’t I?
It will be just a matter of seconds until his phone rings and Dad gives him new instructions. We need all the head start we can get. Once Gavin’s on the phone, he’ll be distracted. That’s our only chance, and even that’s just a tiny one.
I nod to him. “You were right. He tricked me.”
Gavin tilts his head. “I’m very sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” I look over to Erik, who’s looking out over the airfield, his expression stony. He caught onto exactly what happened, of course he has, and his disappointment must be even greater than mine. In two hours I’ll be safe, while he won’t have anywhere he can go.
“Gavin?”
“Yes?”
“Give us five minutes, OK?” I gesture toward the panoramic window at the other end of the room. “This isn’t going to be easy for me.”
He quickly checks the surroundings, assesses the situation, then nods. “OK. Take your time.”
I pick up my purse, then walk over to Erik, reach out and touch his shoulder. He turns his head around to me slowly.
“Come, please.” I pull him along with me and, as expected, he resists. “Where to?”
“Please. Don’t look at me like that. Come on, we don’t have much time.”
Finally he gives in. Reluctantly. “I knew it,” he says softly. “Somehow I knew it even yesterday. But at least you’ll get out of here, and you are the one they’re looking for, after all.”
I pull him toward the glass wall; the terminal hall is right below us. A cell phone rings; I hear Gavin saying “Sir?” I fling my arms around Erik’s neck.
For a moment we stand there, holding each other close, then Erik pushes me away. “Are you trying to make it even harder for me?”
“No.” I don’t let him go. “The door is over there. I’m not flying back without you. They’re going to try and force me, so we have to run as fast as we can. Out of the building. Gavin and his people haven’t properly entered the country yet, so they won’t let them through the checkpoint just like that, and that’s our chance.”
Erik remains silent. He puts his arms around me. “That’s crazy, you can’t stay here, that would be—”
We don’t have time for this discussion now. I tear myself away from him and go over to the door, with a pointedly casual gait. As soon as I’ve opened it, I start to run. Out of the lounge, down the steps, taking two at once. Erik is right behind me, I can hear his breathing, as well as Gavin cursing, but that doesn’t matter now, because passport control, which we passed a few hours ago in the other direction, is just ahead.
Still, the two officers try to stop us. One of them manages to grab hold of Erik’s jacket, but he quickly pulls himself free again.
Gavin’s calls become louder. “Stop, Joanna, there’s no point to this!”
Another fifty feet to the exit, then twenty. How lucky that we’re in General Aviation and not the public terminal. Erik is beside me now; he grabs my arm and pulls me along with him. The doors open; darkness and a rush of cool air greet us; out of the corner of my eye I see the alarmed customs officers intercept Gavin and his colleagues; then we’re outside.
There are no taxis here, it’s no-man’s-land, but we just keep running, keeping to the left. Anywhere, just not toward the airport, because anyone acting the way we are would seem suspicious in the airport. Especially two days after a terror attack.
So we simply stay by the edge of the main road, slowing down bit by bit, then finally come to a halt. Car headlights wash over us from behind, and with every car that passes, I fear it might brake next to us and that someone will drag us inside.
Erik gestures to the right. “There’s a gas station over there.”
I nod, gasping. We walk the rest of the way at half speed, on the sparse patch of green by the side of the street. Again and again I feel Erik looking at me, but now is not the time for explanations. I ask myself if it would have been any different if I had come clean with Dad and told him about Gabor. About the boiler and about me attacking Erik with a knife. About the fact that he was inside the station at the time of the attack. About the fact the both of our lives are in immediate danger.
I try to imagine it.
That might just have yielded a flight ticket for Erik—to a completely different country. To Paraguay or Chile, maybe.
But if I’m completely honest with myself, I have to admit that it probably wouldn’t have changed anything. Deep down, George Arthur Berrigan would have been delighted that someone else was going to get rid of the problem of Erik for him.