Late Passenger, A NonStop Mystery

By Peggy Kopman-Owens

Cover Art © Roger Kopman. An airplane departs Los Angeles with 406 souls onboard, but arrives in Sydney, Australia with 384 passengers, 18 cabin crew, 4 pilots and… one dead man!  Where did passenger No. 407 come from? With the Prime Minister of one of the most powerful countries onboard, his government wants to know – "Could this have been an assassination attempt?" Fiona Forester Chesterfield, an unsuspecting government fraud investigator is contracted to keep tabs on one particular Sydney crew member, her neighbor, Isabel Quince Lewis. Both will discover that no one on that fateful Sydney flight is free from suspicion or safe from becoming the next victim!

• Language: English
• Publisher: PKOBOOKS LLC
• Release date: Mar 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215125533

Peggy Kopman-Owens

Peggy Kopman-Owens writes suspenseful fiction, gentle mysteries with touches of romance that inspire readers to search for their passports. Her literary properties, reflecting her work in 35 countries, include three series set in Paris. SIMON PENNINGTON MYSTERIES, MRS. DUCHESNEY MYSTERIES, and SEVEN PARIS MYSTERIES now available in eBook, paperback, hardcover, and / or audiobook. (author's photo: © Michael D. Owens)  Cover Art © Roger Kopman. Online gallery at KOPMANPHOTOS.com "My mother wrote stories and songs, becoming my inspiration, teaching that passion and patience are inseparable partners. From my father and mother, both musicians who loved to travel, I learned to embrace a world full of diversity and endless possibilities. I can never thank them enough for bestowing this lovingly unselfish gift of intellectual freedom."

Book preview

Chapter 1

Several months earlier

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, this is your Chief Purser speaking. Our departure will be delayed approximately ten minutes to retrieve some missing paperwork. The Captain advises that this should not change our arrival time because with today’s tailwinds, he will be able to make up this short delay once we are airborne.

While we are at the gate, you may use the lavatory facilities onboard and your cell phones. Once the door is closed, I will advise you to discontinue the use of all electronics. We will keep you advised if there are any further delays to our departure time.

Thank you for your understanding and your patience."

music began playing throughout the airplane.

Like the other passengers onboard, who were hot, tired, strapped into their seats, and impatiently waiting, every passenger onboard was airing his or her doubts.

Is this some sort of mechanical?

Is there something wrong with the aircraft that they are not telling us?

Are they really missing a crewmember?

I think they are lying to us, a man grumbled so loudly that others instinctively chimed in.

Hey! I’m gonna miss my connection, another fumed from two rows back, although his connection was at least 18 hours into the future and as all seasoned travelers knew, by then, anything could happen.

While none of the crew had dared to add to the stress of their passengers by mentioning the real possibility of an unannounced fuel stop, it was on all of their minds. For one particular person, any delay was cause for concern. Silently, the small group of passengers identified only to fellow operatives as Blue Team was concerned with something far more serious than missing a connection. Unlike the people seated near them, this elite advance security force was questioning why one of the most powerful men in the world was not yet onboard. They knew where he was the last time they saw him, but where was he now? Could he have been kidnapped on the way to the airport? Why hadn’t Red Team Leader contacted them with an update and at what point should they bolt for the open door?

As the seconds slid by the newly appointed Blue Team Leader, seated in Business Class several rows back from the open door, began sweating profusely. (Damn). It was an odorous sweat; the kind that only stress could produce. His promotion was barely 20-hours old and this first day of a new command was getting off to a rocky start. He reached for his bag on the floor as a female crewmember brushed past him, striking his elbow with her leg and setting off a chain of events. His body jerked in reaction to her touch and his shoulder hit the seat in front of him, causing the man in that seat to whip around with a scowl on his face.

The crewmember seemed unaware of the minor drama as she rushed to the boarding door.

I’ll be right back, The Chief Purser told her.

May I do that for you? Ingrid asked, seeing the piece of paper in her hand.

No, I’ve got it, the Chief Purser answered holding up a passenger’s ticket stub, just a double seat assignment.

How is that possible on an international flight? Ingrid, new to international flying, asked.

Computers, the Chief Purser replied in disgust.

Blue Team Leader’s attempt to reposition his body resulted in another jarring bump to the seat in front of him. Sorry, he muttered another strained apology to the man who was practically coming out of his shoes this time. No use starting something he couldn’t finish in public, Blue Team Leader thought, taking a deep breath. Was it too early to get up and speak to the Chief Purser about changing his seat? He scanned the cabin for her, but she had gone. His team, scattered about the airplane, watched for any sign that they were needed. Was something wrong?

She had been at the door only a second earlier, but he had let the man in front of him distract his attention away from the action at the open door. Focus, he muttered under his breath, beginning to realize how very tired he was. It had not only been a long day, it had been a long six weeks of nonstop travel. He, like those who were watching the back of his head, was on edge and his patience was running out.

The Chief Purser, who was antsy and had been pacing, must be wondering where the VIP was, too, he thought. He would draw unwanted attention to himself this early in the flight, if he disembarked to make a private phone call. No, he decided, still squirming in his seat and making a feeble attempt to adjust his legs to take up less room. Maybe he could disguise his angst, but finding that the slightest noise of ruffling paper also bothered the man in front of him, he surrendered the unread newspaper to the seat pocket. He dared not look behind to see the annoyed expressions his team members were wearing.

Once again, they were stuck in Economy Cabin seats and there wasn’t a man on this team who stood less than 6 foot 2 inches. Their complaint about no legroom had been echoed for weeks by the two female members of the team who each measured 5 foot 10 inches in their bare feet. It was going to be another long, uncomfortable duty rig for all of them. He feared they would consider his constant fidgeting (in his much coveted and larger Business Class seat) as a lack of self-confidence, not a lack of space.

As a few more passengers arrived, Blue Team Leader kept his eye on the first row of seats behind the Business Class boarding door. A seat on the aisle was still empty and if no one sat down soon, he was going to claim it for himself. He checked his watch and noticed Ingrid, who had taken the Chief Purser’s position by the boarding door, was smiling at him. She might provide his best opportunity, so he took a chance. Indeed, Ingrid proved very cooperative, but warned there were a few late passengers still arriving and she would need the Chief Purser’s approval, before she could give him the open seat.

Upon the Chief Purser’s return a few moments later, he could see Ingrid pleading his case. She was pointing to him hovering in the aisle a few rows back and he read the word gentleman on her lips. The Chief Purser gave him only a quick glance as clearly she was focused on something much more important. Ingrid smiled at Blue Team Leader and nodded, indicating that his request had produced no objections from her boss. She pointed to her watch and then, held up an open hand, indicating he should wait a few more minutes before executing their plan.

Blue Team Leader looked up to see two more late arriving passengers rush breathlessly across the threshold. They were balancing a backpack, a stroller, a child in addition to several pieces of luggage, and they looked completely lost. The father with the large backpack stopped to fold, awkwardly, the stroller, but didn’t seem to know where to put it. The mother appeared to be searching for seat numbers on the overhead bins as she struggled to maintain control of a crying baby, two roller bags, and a diaper bag. A male crewmember, who had been helping to stow bags on the other aisle, made his way quickly through the Business Class galley eager to offer his help. Grabbing two of their bags, he told the man to leave the stroller and he would put it in a closet for them, before leading them into the Economy Class cabin.

The family was among two dozen or more passengers who had arrived late because of storms in the area. The wind on the airfield had begun gusting to 25 mph, causing a slowdown in takeoffs and landings. It also was forcing rain into every crack in the jetbridge and the next passengers to board would enter upon wet carpet. Ingrid grabbed a blanket from the nearby seat and threw it down to soak up excess water, covering up the strip of red carpet that had been placed there. Her efforts did little to protect the already soggy welcome sign. This struck Blue Team Leader as funny.

A few seconds behind them, a man wearing a business suit and not towing any luggage entered. As a result of texting on his cell phone, he tripped over the threshold of the aircraft, making a couple of passengers laugh. He wanted to thank the Chief Purser for finding his cell phone in the gate area, where he had forgotten it, but she had already walked away towards First Class. Instead, he told Ingrid, Tell her thanks for finding my phone. I don’t think she heard me. Ingrid told him he should take his seat quickly as they would be departing soon, so he moved quickly through the galley to the other side of the aircraft, apologizing to the crew there for being in their way.

The Chief Purser returned momentarily, instructed Ingrid to remain at the Business Class boarding door, then, explained as she looked at her watch - she would stay at the First Class boarding door to await the VIP passengers who should be arriving any minute. Earlier she had told Ingrid, for security reasons the Business Class door would be closed first, and then, once the VIPs were all in their seats, the First Class cabin door would be latched. This was the reverse of the normal procedure.

Make certain you keep an eye on this door for what’s happening outside, even after the jetbridge is pulled. The agent could return and re-open the door to throw on a late passenger. The Chief Purser warned, I don’t’ want any blown slides on my watch.

Got it, Ingrid said.

Blue Team, seeing their new commander on his feet, was alert and expecting him to signal his intentions. They waited for any agreed upon signal - a raised finger to his ear, a scratch or a pull, as each would have a different meaning. If he ran his hand through his hair, it meant Action now! At the moment, he had not even a real itch to scratch. Waiting had always been the most tedious of their responsibilities. They were trained to act and react and not sit and wait, like department store mannequins prevented from responding independently. They found this to be the most difficult discipline of their new profession. In their former lives as members of an elite military team, they would have been rewarded for trusting their instincts, but on this high profile assignment, they could be punished for ignoring the simplest of protocols, even though many of these arbitrary restrictions made no sense to them.

His recruiter had not lied, In this job, he had said, you can expect to be bored to death, scared to death, or pissed off at someone you can’t kill. There will be no other options.

At the moment, they weren’t certain of the situation they were facing or which emotion they should be feeling. Worry usually had a basis in fact and since there had been two assassination attempts on G.G. in the past eleven months, they were not immune to irrational superstition. They fully expected a third at any time and in any place, even here onboard an airplane about to take off. Scattered strategically throughout the airplane, they shared Blue Team Leader’s concern over the delay, but because they could not use their cell phones to express it verbally, they were relying upon the tried and true low-tech system of relayed hand signals. However, out of frustration, one Blue Team member decided to exercise a less secure option.

Buzzzzzzz... Blip!

Got vodka?

THE TEXT MESSAGE FLEW back and forth across the aircraft aisles to seven different cell phones at once. Popping up in rapid succession, repeated PINGS were heard coming from Blue Team Leader’s phone. Irritated, he turned down the volume and let the questions go unanswered for what would seem to his team an extraordinarily long time. He sweated and waited. (Assess. Assess. Assess.) His training kicked in, his hands tightly grasped his armrests, preparing for his launch from the seat. Likewise, each of his team members was poised and ready with a hand on his or her one piece of carryon luggage, the one in which a weapon lay ready. Each was ready to bolt off the aircraft, if the response he sent was not good. Another excruciating 60 seconds of anxiety passed. Then, his text appeared on their phones.

spotted goose

IT WAS BLUE TEAM’S private joke, their nickname for the Prime Minister - who never went anywhere without his personal supply of Grey Goose. A second later, others on the team could see out the windows that a black limousine had parked between two large black all-terrain vehicles and there were people unloading planeside in the rain. Only then, did the P.M.’s advance security team and Blue leader visibly relax. His eyes fixed upon the First Class boarding door, he waited for verification from Red Team that everything was still under control. Until then, weapons would remain in place, but available.

They had been trained that until the aircraft door was closed and latched, and the aircraft was taxiing into its position on the departure runway, anything could happen in a split second. To prevent any further sort of inflight security issues tonight, additional passenger screenings had taken place. Two passengers had been denied boarding, not because their names appeared on the No Fly list, but because they were drunk and disorderly in the gate area. Two others had been rebooked on other flights because they had come in from a country that had fired upon U.N. Peace Keepers in the past 24 hours and Blue Team Leader told the flight planning office, Find these guys another ride. All passengers’ names had been compared to the latest No Fly list three times and no others caused him concern.

He left the airlines’ control center feeling that, tonight, the P.M. would be safer inflight than he was on the ground. Menacing messages had been received earlier in the day, but these were considered the usual political wranglers airing grievances against the P.M. They obviously wanted to cause him trouble, but they did not know which flight he would be on. As a result, they chose to broadcast the same threat to several airlines at various California airports. When the source of their messages was found, the location proved too remote to represent any real danger. That was the trouble with cyber attacks. They could originate anywhere on the planet.

Blue Team Leader, however, considered every threat real and assumed nothing was true, unless he saw it with his own eyes. While they had been trained for what their instructors imagined was all manner of inflight scenarios, each team member privately hoped that nothing would test their team’s skills on this watch - or if it did, not until after the plane unloaded in Australia, where a waiting Green Team would relieve them from duty.

There were rules dictating legal rests for all security personnel, much like those that guaranteed airline crews relief on long flights, but for this elite guard travel days often stretched duty time beyond the normal 24 hours. On this one particular trip, there already had been a number of unforeseen delays. Weather created a domino effect that was unavoidable. Earlier on the tarmac, while supervising the belly loading of their private cargo, Blue Team Leader had calculated what lay ahead for them.

By the time, they would retrieve their heavier arsenal from the belly of the plane in Australia, brief the team meeting them at Kingsford Smith International, and check into their hotel in the Rocks, chances were good they would be on duty for nearly 36 hours. What made this prospect worse - they had flown this same trip under similar circumstances only 10 days earlier. Too much stress from flying across international time zones had been the straw, which broke the previous Blue Team Leader’s back and became the official reason for his taking an early retirement. He had told Blue Team Leader that he always envisioned dying on the job, but not from boredom or jetlag. Tonight, he would be riding home to Bangkok, via Sydney, but in the Upper Deck Business Class cabin or as he enjoyed saying in the bubble. Blue Team Leader was relieved, that he would not be observing downstairs on his first night in the command position.

With faces hidden beneath opened black umbrellas, the official entourage exited their vehicles quickly and gathered at the bottom of the exterior stairs. A solid cover of storm clouds hid the near-full moon and distant airport spotlights revealed only stark shadows as one-by-one each climbed the slick, metal steps. A door that had slammed open only moments earlier, now slammed shut louder a final time. Upon hearing it, the Chief Purser came running from the First Class cabin door to Business Class. This last minute change of VIP entry was throwing her off her game and usurping her control. She did not like it one bit. Waiting impatiently inside the entrance, she watched rain drip onto the doorsill; then, saw the blanket covering up the red carpet’s welcome sign. She swooped up the soggy mess, tossing it behind the jumpseat.

Muffled conversations could be heard coming from the jetbridge, but the words were not easily understood. The voices, however, were familiar to Blue Team Leader who had traveled with this same group for nearly a year. This would be his 10th flight as a member of this elite security team, but his first in the coveted leadership position. There was some sort of repositioning going on outside that he could not see and did not understand. Normally at this point, walking swiftly behind two Red Team point guards, the Prime Minister would be entering the aircraft through the First Class boarding door. At his side would be a third Red Team member who would provide additional cover.

The Chief Purser was having difficulty hiding her anger because the First Class cabin door had been abruptly closed in her face by a hurried and distraught Gate Agent shouting, They’re coming in Door 2. Don’t ask me why. Go! Go! Blue Team Leader was alarmed to see her running from one door to the other. What did she know that he didn’t? Entering through the First Class door shorten the distance that the Prime Minister was in public view and his exposure to risks. From the tone of the voices coming from the jetbridge, people outside were equally confused as to why they had been shuffled up the wrong outside stairs into this jetbridge. The Red Team members were not in their usual places. Instead, a former football player and the largest of the team had been pushed into the role of the P.M.’s escort.

The obvious concern was - someone on the Prime Minister’s security team was responding to a sudden threat, but who? Who had ordered the last minute change? The big man could easily block the view of passengers closest to the door, but why was he being asked to do so? The hairs on his arms were raised in anticipation of what he might be facing inside, but he kept personal protests to himself, wondering only what Red Team Leader and Blue Team Leader knew that he didn’t.

Later, Red Team Leader nicknamed Yeti for his size and his platinum blond hair would blame this outrageous and unauthorized flip on the one person who continued to disregard his orders. The woman traveling with the P.M., his newest in a long line of personal assistants, had insisted on the last minute change because of the rain. She also chose to push past the first two members of Red Team to grab a cabin curtain, yanking it hard to release the snaps, before pulling it across the entrance and blocking the view of Business Class passengers, which included Blue Team Leader.

This was a blatant violation of the security teams’ policy. What was she doing? He stretched his neck and leaned into the aisle to find out, but was careful not to alarm his team by inadvertently affecting a signal. If he stood up now, reached out with his arm in any way, he would be confusing his team. What she was doing was a deliberate breach. Who told her to do this? It wasn’t raining that hard inside the cabin. Damn, he said aloud and this time, the man in front of him jerked around in response, but after quickly assessing Blue Team Leader’s size, chose to remain silently disgruntled.

Perhaps it was Blue Team Leader’s irritation with the man in front or his loathing of the Prime Minister’s personal assistant, but his instincts overrode everything. Suddenly, he was on his feet, alerting and alarming the other members of his team in as subtle a manner as he could manage, given his state of mind and the confusion at the door. He turned his head toward the closest member of his team and gave a coded standby signal that was quickly relayed, causing two members of his team in Economy Class to stand and make their way up the aisles, one on the left and the other on the right. In less than 30 seconds, two men were standing at the back of Business Class, poised to take on whatever enemies had entered the aircraft. A third stopped on the opposite aisle directly across from his Leader, mouthing silently What? before continuing up the aisle to take his position next to the galley entrance, where (if needed) he had a clear shot through the entrance to the boarding door. Further back in the aircraft, two more had paused in the aisle awaiting their next signal.

About then, Renee let the curtain drop and the back of the P.M. and his football player escort could be seen moving hurriedly up the aisle into First Class. Seeing that his boss was indeed alive and moving, Blue Team Leader immediately turned, stretched his arms skyward, and the rest of his team stopped in mid stride. Knowing that his forward marksman could see what he was seeing, he dropped his arms quickly, lest the passengers around think he was leading a parade of fools. He could not hide the anger on his face, being about as heated as he had ever been in his life as he gave the stand down signal. If his looks could kill, Renee would have been dropped right there in front of 300 witnesses, one of his team would say later and laugh.

She had been a member of the P.M.’s staff for more than two months now and because of her, his first command of Blue Team was getting off to a clumsy start. Had she been deliberately trying to sabotage him? Red Team Leader had briefed her many times on their boarding procedures. When he could speak to Yeti during their rendezvous, preset for six hours after takeoff, he would make certain to impress upon him the extent of his frustration. The stupid woman’s actions could have caused a major incident on a fully loaded airplane for no good reason. Her ridiculous and dangerous theatrics needed to end now, not later, and he was not putting up with any more of this.

When he sat down, his knees again disturbed the man in front of him, who chose this time to turn around and say, Stop hitting my seat, you big clumsy oaf! It was everything the already angry and sleep-deprived security commander could do – not to punch him on the top of his head. Instead, he leaned forward, swallowed hard to respect his training, and was about to apologize, when something stopped him. Between this guy being an ass and Renee causing an entire security team to jump through hoops, his restraint had been exercised to its limits. His anger and his curiosity needed to be satisfied. He got up, stretched, immediately letting his closest team member know that, this time, it was only a stretch. This gave the jerk in front of him time to appreciate fully his size and his Alpha male bravado, before he walked to the front of the Business Class cabin and this time, giving his team members no sign to leave their seats.

In the forward Business Class cabin, he glanced around to assess who the people were sitting there and if any posed any sort of risk to the P.M. He was pretty much looking for a confrontation with anyone, but no one challenged him moving through the airplane. In fact, two people made a point of getting out of his way. Perhaps, it was the look on his face. There were still two unoccupied seats, both with considerably more leg room and so, he made note of the seat numbers before crossing over to the other aisle where he paused aft of the entrance into First Class. The Kid (their nickname for the newest member of Red Team) was about to sit down, but he caught his contemporary’s image in the entrance. His simple nod at Blue Team Leader, who could see the Prime Minister was seated and calm, seemed to satisfy any question about his safety.

Blue Team Leader crossed back through the galley, this time moving carefully not to come in contact with the crewmember who was hurriedly latching compartments and making loud bangs as metal hit upon metal. With a quick check of his watch, he took two steps at a time on his way up to the top of the stairs leading to the Upper Deck, where he stopped, looked back towards the cockpit, and saw every seat filled. One male cabin crewmember was in the aisle and a female was in the galley. The cockpit door was closed. Here, too, everything looked to be in order.

He let out a deep breath and another female crewmember in the galley, someone he had not seen at first, stepped out to ask him if he was lost. Just stretching my legs, he said. She smiled and offered him a glass of Champagne, which he was obligated to refuse. (One more flight... just one more flight, and he would have some time off... time to get away from the public... and all of Renee’s nonsense.) In six short weeks, she had made his life and that of his team members ten times more difficult than it needed to be and he hated her for it. She had no respect for them and no appreciation for the risks they took to keep her boss and his staff alive. If given a choice, he was certain he wouldn’t take a bullet to keep her alive.

Proceeding downstairs, he decided to take advantage of this opportunity to use the lavatory, before returning to his seat. These relief breaks had to be strategically timed and this was that time, but he found both Business Class lavs were occupied. With another quick check of his watch, he hurried off in the direction of the Economy Cabin to find another lavatory, but two more late arriving passengers flew in the boarding door and cut him off. Always the gentleman in public, he let them go first. On his way to the aft of the aircraft, he passed two of his team members and noticed that they were having a great deal of difficulty fitting into their narrow seats with even worse leg room, but he did not acknowledge them or this all too familiar discomfort. Before taking his seat again in Business Class, he stood for as long as he was allowed, not ready for another confrontation with the man in the seat in front of him, who now had reclined as far as it would extend.

His team had been told by the load planner in the flight office this flight was booked full, with someone in every seat and an additional seven children under the age of two on laps. Next time, he would tell Renee to book his team further in advance and demand that she save him a spot aft of the boarding door, where there would be no passenger seats in front of him. With his long legs and a year already spent in the Economy Class cabin, he had flown more hours standing in galleys and leaning against walls than actually seated. This flight was supposed to be his first to sit back and, as his predecessor was doing in the Upper Deck, enjoy the ride, but he wasn’t looking forward at all to the next 15 hours.

Maybe if he stood long enough, looked pathetic enough, the woman by the door would take pity on him and give him the seat he wanted – with or without her boss’s blessing. It was worth a try. The aisle seat was still unoccupied and before the airplane started moving away from the gate, this would be a good time to switch seats. He approached her with his signature broad smile and Ingrid took one look at his height and the length of his legs, at the seat where he had been sitting, and did what any compassionate crewmember would do.

She told him, Go ahead, but again, if someone shows up for that seat, please take your originally assigned seat. Ok? I don’t want to get in trouble with this Chief Purser.

No problem, he said, grateful for her compassion and the reprieve. He looked back to assure himself that his team knew he had changed seats. In the first row of the Economy Cabin, a member of his team scratched his ear and the change in his location was noted and passed along to the others. When the Chief Purser returned, Ingrid spent time defending her action, but her boss looked uninterested. Blue Team Leader didn’t really care if the Chief Purser was or was not disgruntled because, having fully claimed his new territory; he was prepared to do battle with her, if necessary, to keep it. He did not know that she was preparing her own verbal arsenal for a bigger battle brewing in First Class.

The First Class crewmember assigned to working the aisle noticed that the Prime Minister had walked onboard with the swagger of a celebrity and wrote of it later in her post-incident report. Our VIP acted totally unaware that his late arrival had caused a 30-minute take-off hold or that this required the pilots to request a new takeoff slot. Afton Miller stopped short of using the word arrogant to describe her VIP, but it was inferred. She also wrote that two members of the VIP entourage made her especially nervous during the flight because nothing she did for them seemed to satisfy their demands and they were up and down most of the flight, walking the entire length of the aircraft, and ignoring the illuminated Fasten Seatbelt sign. They paced and checked their watches every few minutes.

As a result of her observations, she changed their coffee from regular to decaf without telling them, hoping this might help them sleep. She identified the two members of the Prime Minister’s staff as the woman in the red jacket and the last passenger to take a seat. He sat down right across the aisle from the Prime Minister and didn’t even apologize to him for being late, she noted, thinking that he was the main reason for their delayed departure. She would be told after they landed in Sydney that this man was Chief of Security for the Prime Minister and that walking the aisles was part of his onboard duties. The Prime Minister’s personal assistant was probably too angry to sleep, she decided, because like Meredith – the woman in the red jacket was too busy plotting her revenge.

During the delay, the weather both at the field and enroute had deteriorated dramatically and this demanded that the pilots reexamine everything about their already filed flight plan. Because of a sudden change of direction in the wind, the one at LAX now creating erratic crosswinds, both takeoffs and landings were slowed. In the cockpit, where conversations were automatically recorded, the Captain and his flight crew of First Officer and two additional relief pilots focused upon answering the following questions: Had the load increased any? Were there additional bags or children on laps? Would there still be enough fuel onboard if the weather and air traffic slowdown demanded an extended taxi and hold before takeoff? How much fuel could they burn before takeoff and still avoid a refueling stop? What was the final figure on that payload, again?

This Prime Minister would not be reprimanded for the inconveniences his decision to spend an extra 15 minutes telling world leaders goodbye had created for the rest of these mere mortals. The pilots knew that compared to their VIP cargo, they were commoners, only 4 of nearly 400 souls onboard. The Prime Minister was different. From his position in Seat 1A, he still ruled a significant portion of the world, regardless of who sat in the cockpit.

After settling in, he began looking around for something that normally was placed immediately at his feet. Discovering that it was not there, he looked up expectantly at his new female assistant, but was immediately irritated to see a disturbing look of panic on her face. She turned to the wall of flesh who had just settled into his seat behind the P.M., but this man seemed unaware of any problem. His briefcase? She mouthed silently, punctuating her contempt with a scowl on her face and a hand on her hip, as if he should have known exactly what his boss and she expected.

Before he stopped fidgeting, the Prime Minister had a habit of taking everything out of his pockets and putting these items in his briefcase. For security reasons, it was, also, where he kept his personal electronic devices for takeoff. As part of their inflight duties, a long line of personal assistants had learned to maintain possession of his briefcase in flight by attaching a handcuff through the handle and locking it around the leg of his airplane seat. Only the P.M.’s personal assistants knew for certain the 5-digit unlocking code that the P.M. kept forgetting.

However, because Renee carried her own briefcase, a purse, and today – an umbrella, she tasked someone else with bringing the P.M.’s briefcase onboard. Tonight, the task had shifted to the Red Team member assigned to ride with the P.M. in the limousine, but because this person also was assigned to observing the P.M.’s luggage being taken out of the trunk and carried onto the aircraft, no one was quite certain who had the briefcase. Another Red Team member was assigned to escort the P.M. up the stairs and into the aircraft and he had to keep his hands free in order to respond quickly to any sort of threat to his boss. Each member had specifically assigned duties with the exception of Yeti, their leader. Only he could move about the tarmac freely based upon his assessment of any situation. As a result of this, he was always last to board any flight. Tonight, no one noticed that he had disappeared as soon as the brakes were set on his SUV.

Renee had chosen to interfere with Yeti’s assignments by changing them in the limousine at the last possible moment. The biggest member of Red Team, who had ridden in the limo with her and the P.M., was told to assume the position of escort. The task of taking the P.M.’s briefcase out of the limo, which was his responsibility, was shifted to someone else so that the big man could get the P.M. in and out of the rain quickly. As he opened his limousine door, she shoved an umbrella at him to use in getting P.M. out and up the stairs.

She had been nervous all afternoon, after overhearing Yeti’s conversation with his team about threats received earlier in the day and so, she wanted the P.M. protected by someone whose girth and height could hide a refrigerator. In the hasty reassignments that took place on the rainy tarmac and his unnoticed disappearance, Yeti was not advised of her interference. Thus, the challenge to his original orders, taking place in the limousine and on the jetbridge, occurred with him in absentia on the dark, wet ramp below. This was the dispute that Blue Team Leader had been unable to decipher.

The big man stood up and pointed at someone sitting in the last row of First Class who had a blank look on his face. What? this man mimed with his lips and a shrug. Then, he saw the look of horror on Renee’s face. Three people were silently thinking the same thing. Was the Prime Minister’s briefcase missing? At this point, it did not matter whose fault it was, only that it was found quickly. Renee ran to the open Business Class door, pushing past the Chief Purser (whose hand held a microphone and whose mouth was open about to make a P.A. announcement) and out onto the jetbridge, where she immediately tried to call someone still on the ground.

The Chief Purser flew out the door after her, Madame, please, get onboard and return to your seat, perturbed that someone dared to bypass her. The last thing they needed was a further delay because of an unruly passenger. No one was allowed to disembark without a lot of red flags going up and questions being asked. If this woman disappeared entirely from her view, security would have to be called. There would be reports to fill out. If she had anything to say about it, the woman would be getting back on the airplane or getting the boot right here and now. There would be no more delays charged to her department over another passenger who couldn’t keep track of her personal possessions.

There was no response to Renee’s call, so she sent a text and waited. Thirty seconds went by. Still, no response. She paced nervously on the jetbridge, looking out the window of the door on the stairs. All the while, the Chief Purser was yammering something in her ear and making her angrier and more nervous.

Madame, you must board now. We’re going to be closing the door, the Chief Purser insisted, not attempting to hide her frustration this time.

Renee ignored the Chief Purser, shooting her a Get away from me! look. As she sent a second text, she waved the woman in uniform away, as if she were nothing more than an irritating insect, but did not see that the woman in uniform was moving quickly towards her. As a result, Renee accidentally struck the Chief Purser on the arm. The slight collision caused Renee’s cell phone to fly out of her hands and against the metal wall of the jetbridge, before hitting the floor – where it suddenly rang. She raced to pick it up and answered without even looking at the Chief Purser who was shouting something at her.

Renee shouted in response, Shut up. I can’t hear.

Blue Team, the Prime Minister’s advance security team, had arrived at the airport hours earlier to scan the airport, interview key airline staff, and scour the aircraft for anything unwelcomed. With the arrival of Red Team onboard, they thought they could relax and settle into their seats for the long journey. Having seen the P.M.’s assistant scurry off the airplane, Blue Team Leader realized quickly that this would not be the case. From his vantage point, he could see none of the activity on the jetbridge, but after only six weeks, he already knew Renee well. She was a nervous, scattered-brain bird, and worse – a total control freak. She created problems only so she could be seen as a hero solving them. Two trips during the past month, with her in tow, had convinced him that for the next 15 hours, she would do nothing but stir up trouble. She would be guzzling coffee, pacing up and down the aisles, and generally disturbing nearly everyone on the P.M.’s staff. Well, not him. Not this time. She was Yeti’s problem.

Whatever trouble she was stirring up just outside the door of the aircraft was