Michael had a gut feeling his holiday in Germany was going to be cut short by another urgent investigation; nothing unusual. But then, he never complained. The phone was picked up on the other end after the first ring.
“Agent Smith, this is urgent. Project Firefly is in its last stages. However there…”
“Project WHAT?! I thought that was nothing more than a bunch of UFO-crazy groups churning out fantastic stories!”
“It does exist. Please, you must hurry. A plane is waiting for you at the private terminal of the airport. I’ll explain everything once we’re in the air.”
“Some hospitality I must say!” murmured Michael.
“And Agent Smith… don’t forget your little souvenir from Utah you’ve been carrying with you for the past two years…”
Michael was frozen solid. He could feel every hair on his body stand on end. The only person who knew about it was dead in a car accident, two days after the incident in Utah. The only person he thought who knew about it.
He stood up, changed his clothes, stuffed his belongings in his suitcase, took out his berretta from beneath the pillow, shoved it into its holster, put on a jacket, wore his watch and shoes, and was down in the hallway of the hotel; four minutes flat. The clerk at the desk was a little more than just surprised to see a guest at this hour. Michael reached for his wallet.
“Where can I get a taxi?”
“But sir.. is there a problem? Is everything ok?” The clerk asked in a heavy German accent.
“Yes yes.. just an emergency back home..”
“You can get a taxi round the next corner sir.. but there won’t be any flights out till..”
He was cut short by Michael who placed a few currency notes from his wallet on the clerk’s desk. It was more than twice the room rent. Obviously the clerk didn’t mind at all.
Michael hurried to the nearest intersection and started looking frantically for a taxi. Few cars sped by in the chilly night. After a few minutes a taxi slowed by. Michael climbed into it.
“Flughafen.. Eile..”
“Ja” The driver said in a heavy German accent.
The drive to the airport took longer than Michael had thought. He quickly paid the driver, didn’t bother for the change, and was already at the entrance of the airport before the driver even left the driveway.
He approached one of the guards.
“die Möglichkeit, den privaten Terminal?”
The guard directed him to the other entrance that led straight to the private terminal. On his way Michael noticed an old man in a wheelchair, in rich suiting, being pushed by probably his attendant, another lady in heavy makeup with her poodle walking besides her in a perfectly trained manner, a man with a fur jacket puffing on his cigar looking out through the huge glass panes which made up the terminal corridor. “Obviously this place is for the rich” thought Michael.
Just as he was wondering what next, or rather what his caller had in mind, the dark man with the cigar walked briskly behind Michael. Before Michael could turn around to take a closer look, he felt something poke his back in the lower region. From the feel of it, he could easily make it out as the end of a silencer; the silencer of a small firearm, similar to his own.
“Keep walking..”, a low voice whispered in his ear.
Michael could feel the warm breath on his ear. The man behind had cleverly concealed his weapon under an overcoat which he held over his right hand, the one holding the pistol. As they both walked towards the end of the corridor, Michael noticed the security officers screening every traveller’s baggage through an x-ray unit. However, he knew it was mere formality. One thing good about private travel was that you could carry almost anything onboard so long as you had the right paper work. Then again, it was your own plane, so it was not surprising to have such a relaxation of rules from commercial airline travel, where obviously a lot more lives were at stake than your own! Michael had just begun wondering how the officers would react to this man holding him at gun point, but instantly the thought vanished. As they came closer, one of the officers looked at the dark man, and as though in recognition of a higher authority, slightly nodded his head. The other officer didn’t pay attention once he got a slight whisper from his colleague.
“My host has obviously got novel ways..” thought Michael.
Just past the security counter, they turned left and an stood on an escalator that led them straight down on the tarmac, in the private side of the airport.
Michael noticed the twin propellers of a Super King Air B200 parked a distance away, come to life.
“That’s our ride?” he asked in a half surprised tone.
The man behind didn’t answer. He just kept prodding Michael towards the plane. As they came near it, the door swung open, as if by itself. Michael didn’t need to be told what was expected of him. He climbed in. The dark man followed. The cabin of the plane lit up with warm lights throughout the ceiling along the length of the plane. The interior was custom made with a plush sofa on one side and a mini bar on the other. The moment Michael was waiting for finally came – his phone caller was sitting at one end of the sofa. Michael turned to face him as he climbed in the plane. He stood still. His friend from the dead signalled him to sit down and buckle up for the take off. As the Super King’s engines roared, Michael’s heart was beating fast.
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