Thanksgiving by Michael Dibdin

Author:Michael Dibdin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Tags: Mystery
ISBN: 9780754045014
Publisher: Vintage
Published: 2000-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

WINDOW OR AISLE?

That’s what they ask, isn’t it? Always assuming you get a choice in the first place. ‘Would you care for a window or an aisle seat today?’ It’s one of my favourite bits of the airline liturgy, right up there with the classic ‘Adjust your own mask before attempting to assist others.’

The shuttle I took down to SFO didn’t bother with such niceties. It was like a subway train. You bought an e-ticket, showed some picture ID at the gate and grabbed the first available seat. That was fine with me. On this occasion, I wasn’t interested in the view or easy access to the toilets. I was watching the door to see who boarded after me.

I may have decided to leave precipitately, but I’d planned the manner of my departure with some care. No luggage, for a start, not even an overnighter. I’d added my passport and Green Card, a Sony Walkman and a few tapes to the contents of my overcoat pockets, then called a cab to take me back to the hotel where I’d been staying. I told the receptionist that I’d be checking out early the next day and settled the bill in advance with a credit card. Then I walked through to the sushi-and-oyster bar and slipped out a side door to the street.

A short walk brought me to a far grander hotel, with a line of waiting cabs outside. No one was following me, so far as I could tell, but I hung around in the lobby for another ten minutes, inspecting everyone who entered or left, before slipping the doorman a five and taking a cab to the airport. I didn’t take any chances there, either, staying out of sight in the bar, my back to the wall with a clear view of the doors, until the plane started boarding. No one looking remotely like a policeman had appeared at any point. By the time I buckled myself into my seat, I was beginning to feel reasonably confident.

The other end, I had just over two hours to catch the night flight to Paris. Everything seemed to be going smoothly, but I didn’t relax my vigilance. Having bought a ticket and checked in, I left the international concourse and hid myself away in a hutch for smokers on the first floor of one of the domestic terminals. Once again I boarded the plane at the last moment, and only after a careful scrutiny of my fellow-passengers. No one seemed to take the slightest interest in me, but I didn’t completely relax until the 747 hit its stride on the runway and the rumble of the wheels suddenly ceased. There below us was the city where Lucy had met Darryl Bob, but it could have been a postcard as far as I was concerned. All that mattered was that we were airborne, and that from a legal point of view I was now on European soil. I even had a window seat.

Settling back

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