I’m impressed. If Falk Eckhart is good enough for the president, maybe I should relax a little and get some sleep. He certainly seems to be aware enough of everything going on around us, so I should be safe.
Safe.
Such a simple little word. I haven’t felt safe since I was nine. That’s when my fourteen-year-old sister, Heather, disappeared. We had no idea what had happened to her. It wasn’t until I was at work years later when someone in accounting asked me to check on a data discrepancy that I discovered the truth. One little transaction lead to so much more, and my life has been upside down ever since.
The captain’s voice comes over the intercom.
“Apologies everyone, but I’m afra
id we’ve got some bad news. We’ve hit our maximum flight time, and we’ll have to head back to the gate.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Flight crews have a maximum number of hours they can work,” Eckhart explains. “If we take off now, they’ll go over the limit. We’ll have to wait for another crew.”
“How long will that take?”
“They’ll have to locate a fresh crew. It will be hours.”
I check my phone for the time. It’s already after nine o’clock. It will be the middle of the night before we reach our destination.
I listen to the grumbling and exasperated sighs of other passengers as they drag out cell phones and start contacting loved ones to inform them of the delay. Eckhart taps on his phone and sends a message to the rest of his group to come back to the gate.
Back inside the airport, it’s a madhouse. Multiple flights have been cancelled, and there are lines of people all waiting to get new flight information and a hotel room for the night.
“I just contacted this hotel, and they don’t have any more rooms for the night! How can you give me a voucher for a hotel that doesn’t have any rooms left?”
“Who’s going to pay for the hotel I already have booked for tonight, huh?”
“All my luggage is checked! What am I supposed to do about clothes for tomorrow?”
Eckhart sends one of his crew with our boarding passes and passports to collect vouchers as he keeps me away from the crowd. Everyone is so angry with the airline that they aren’t paying attention to me, which is good.
“They put you in different hotels,” the security escort says when he returns with vouchers for me and Eckhart.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“They said there wasn’t anything they could do—it’s all automated.”
Eckhart takes a step away from me, clenching his hands into fists for a brief moment before he stretches his neck to the left and then the right. His chest expands as he takes in a deep breath, causing the button of his jacket to tighten against the fabric.
“Stay with her.” Eckhart glares at the information counter as he stomps up to the front line, ignoring the other passengers. I can’t hear anything he’s saying, but he’s leaning over the desk and flashing his identification. The person behind the desk is wide-eyed and nodding a lot. She hands him something, and he returns to the group.
“We’re in the Hilton,” he announces. “You have the penthouse.”
He hands me a small plastic case with the airline’s logo imprinted on it.
“What’s this?”
“Toiletry bag,” he says gruffly. He turns to one of the other guards. “Is there a car waiting?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Let’s go.”
I finger the little vinyl bag and let myself be led out of the airport to a black SUV parked next to the curb. Eckhart opens the back door and I settle into the middle of the seat. He speaks to one of the other men before sliding into the front.
I am left alone in the back of the car as the others climb into different vehicles. Leaning back and closing my eyes, I try to pretend that none of this is happening. I think back to one of the first interviews with the police and how they called me brave for coming forward. I didn’t understand what they meant then, but I do now.