Sally hands me the passports, and I force a smile. I don’t dare look at Bailey, who is keeping her eyes down. Bailey who knows it wasn’t us who sent passports anywhere. Bailey who, like me, is wondering not only where these passports were sent over from, but also what the passports even say.
Last name Roberts, apparently.
“After you,” Daniel says.
He smiles and turns toward the stairs. He motions for Bailey and me to follow Sally onto the plane.
I let Bailey take the lead. I follow her up the stairs and into the main cabin. A gorgeous main cabin: a couch to our right, four plush chairs around a dining table on the left side, a bar area behind that.
Bailey turns back toward me, and I can see it in her eyes. Despite the strangeness of all of this, she is still wooed by it. She has never been on a private plane before. I have been on a few with clients, but nothing like this—not a full-size jet of this magnitude.
“Bananas,” Bailey mouths.
I nod back.I know.
Then I turn toward Daniel. He stands at the front of the cabin, Sally preparing a tray of drinks behind him in the galley.
“As I’m guessing you might remember, Ms. Roberts, flying regulation calls for two pilots on board if you are entering international airspace, so Ryan will be joining us for the duration.”
International air space. A knot constricts in my chest.Wherein international airspace?
But Daniel shakes his head—quickly, almost imperceptibly. It’s as if he is warning me not to ask any questions. Questions he can’t answer because Ryan may hear. Or Sally. Or someone else entirely.
“We’ll be stopping for fuel at Teterboro, but I don’t anticipate we’ll need to deboard during that process. I’ll certainly let you know if that changes…”
Daniel stops himself there, not saying the rest. He doesn’t say out loud what I hear in his pause: If we do have to deboard, this could get more complicated. This international destination we are supposed to be heading toward potentially derailed.
“Any questions for me, just let Sally know.”
A million, I want to say. A million questions.
“None I can think of,” I say.
“Very good. Wheels up in ten.”
Then Daniel heads into the cockpit, closing the door behind him. Bailey and I stare at each other silently.
But I feel Sally’s eyes on me, watching me. So I start to move—the way I would move if any of this were normal, if settling in were actually an option.
I drop our bags on the couch and then take a seat at the table, Bailey sitting down across from me. I click on my seat belt, motion for Bailey to do the same. I reach across the table to squeeze her hand, to try and help her relax, just as Sally places a large cheese board in front of us.
“I’ve got a few pre-takeoff bites here for you to enjoy,” she says. “Can I get y’all something to drink?”
I shake my head. “We’re fine. Thank you.”
“Great, then just settle in.”
This is when I look up. I look up and notice it on the front wall. There is a map with the flight plan on it. A little plane icon, our little plane apparently.
There’s a map of America. The Atlantic Ocean. Europe. And the twelve hours and fifteen minutes we are about to embark on, airborne. Flying from APC to LBG.
LBG. It takes me just a second to process it.
LBG is the airport code for Le Bourget.
A small, private airport that I’m not unfamiliar with.
In Paris.
