Ripped from the Headlines

10th August 2006 – Gatwick Airport
London


This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned. No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.
Copyright Reagan Kavanagh & Diana Walker 2006.

Author’s Note: We know this conflicts with the time line in Ransom and Original Sin but given the events of the last 48 hours, this was too good not to write. That’s why we call it fiction and take the appropriate licence. Reagan and Diana



MAXIMUS
My flight was scheduled to leave at 1035 hours, thus I had set my alarm for eight. That allowed more than sufficient time to shave, shower, and dress, and be at the check-in point for my flight to Dallas. When I entered the terminal I was greeted with total chaos.

People have their check-through baggage open on the floors, busily transferring items from carry-on bags to those that would be checked through for stowing in the cargo hold. Lines at the check-in counters are a mass of shouting and upset people. Security guards with M-17s – fingers on trigger guards – pace to and fro, eyes missing nothing. What had happened as I slept? I pull my phone from my pocket and hit the speed dial for Terry.

“Thorne here.”

“It is Max …what has happened?’

“What are you talking about?” I relay the scene before me.

“I’m on my way to turn on the telly and computer in the lounge so I don’t wake Diana. Wait one.” I wait, continuing to look about me.

“Christ! There’s a terrorist plot that’s been foiled in London, and you’re in the midst of it. CNN’s saying no carry-on baggage of any sort …hey, there’s a shot of Gatwick …and you’re not in it. Delays getting through the security check-points are making people hours late. If, and when, you can get to a ramp agent, go on and book the next flight out. You’re unlikely to make this one. Keep your phone on.”

“Terry, you know I cannot check my carry-on.”

“I know. As soon as I ring off, I’m on the phone to my contacts in London and find someone to get you through and boarded with it. It may take some time because Whitehall will be frantic. Keep your phone on. I’ll call with a name and number for you as soon as I have one. I’m gone.”

I close my phone and slip it into my pocket, turn away from the security section, and head toward the booking area.


TERRY
Bloody hell! I check my phone book and dial the number for Daphne at the Home Office. She answers on the first ring.

“Daphne Saville-Sneath.”

“Daphne, Love, it’s Terry Thorne.”

“Terry! What a surprise. Please tell me you aren’t caught in the crush at one of our airports.”

“Not me, Love, but one of my operatives is. He’s at Gatwick with no check-through baggage. His laptop can’t go into the hold …you know what we do for our crust, and we can’t take the chance of it being nicked. I need a name and number at Gatwick for him to contact. Whoever you send me to needs to know that Max Espan will be contacting him. He’s travelling on a British passport, if that will help.”

“Wait one …Gatwick …he’s to call Mark Harrington at 020 82339717. I’ll ring him straightaway and give him the name …is it E-S-P-A-N?”

“That’s it. Thanks, Daphne. My shout.”

I dial Max.

“Max Espan.”

“Mark Harrington. 020 82339717.” His phone snaps shut, and I sit there for a tic. Might as well call Reags, as I know Max won’t take the time. I don’t want her waking up and turning on the telly to see the news footage from London. I dial and wait for her to pick up. Her voice is husky with sleep when she answers.

“Hello …Max?”

“Afraid not, Love, but he’s fine. There’s a bit of a bother in London this morning, but he’s not directly involved.” The sleep disappears from her voice immediately.

“What’s going on?”

“Foiled terrorist plot in London at the airports. No carry-on baggage, and everything has to go into check-through. I’ve got a name for him; he’ll make the contact, and they’ll allow him to carry his briefcase and laptop on board. It’s unlikely he’ll make the flight he’s scheduled for, but he’ll let us know as soon as he can get other arrangements made.” I hear her talking to the dogs.

“Bear, MOVE!” I smile. She is obviously trying to get the big guy out of his usual nightly position just outside her bedroom door so she can get to the telly. “Okay, I’ve got CNN. Oh, shit! It’s a fucking madhouse!”

“Yeah. They were panning the crowd earlier, but I didn’t see Max.” She laughs.

“If I know Max – and I do – he probably saw the camera crew and stepped behind one of the support columns. Okay, Terry. Thanks for calling. If I hear from him first, I’ll let you know.”

“Ta, Love.”


MARK HARRINGTON
The phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, looking at the display …the Home Office.

“Harrington.”

“Mark, it’s Daphne Saville-Sneath. I have a diplomat of sorts stuck in the crush there. He’s no check through baggage and can’t check his briefcase and laptop …State security and all. We need you to get him through Security for his flight and ensure they allow him to take his hand-luggage and cell phone on board.”

“Are you bloody crazy, Daphne?”

“Mark, this is a matter of State Security. He’s one of us, though somewhat tangentially. Just get him through bloody security and onto his flight with his case. I’ll make it up to you.” Little choice there, irrespective of the inconvenience.

“Very well. Where is he?”

“He’s got your number and will call. Tell him where to meet you. His name’s Max Espan – he’s British – and with Thorne, Espan, and O’Reilly in Dallas.”

“All right. It’ll be done.” I close my phone, and it rings again immediately as it has all morning.

“Harrington.”

“Sergeant Major Harrington ….” Captain Henley, Gatwick’s Chief of Security.

“Sir!”

“Gate 26. There’s a fight between a couple of passengers.”

“On my way, Sir.” I start jogging toward the gate, and the phone vibrates again. It is still in my hand …an American number. I stick it to my ear, talking as I run.

“Harrington.”

“Max Espan here.”

“I have to deal with a problem at Gate 26. Meet me at the security check-through at the pod entrance. It may be a while before I get there.”

“I will wait for you.”


TERRY
Ah, fuck! I pull up the web site for the Department of Homeland Security and shout for Diana. “Diana, get up …I’m going to need coffee, and I don’t have time to make it myself!” I turn back to the computer and reread the State Department advisory before tabbing to Homeland Security. Sweet Christ …India, too? Is it everywhere?
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