Incident at the Airport

"Is that it? Everything?" a beaming Marina asked.

And then I saw them. Two Turks of a specific appearance were following us, trailing a few meters behind. It was impossible to be mistaken; they were the only ones moving at the same speed as us, as if we all made up one team.

"Do you see?" I asked.

Sasha nodded.

"They latched on at passport control."

"It's your passport," I said.

"Yes, but nobody saw it."

"Except the Americans."

"Damn," Sasha said.

We ran to the boarding gate. Boarding was already ending; we were the last ones. Our "escorts" sat in chairs in the empty hall and stared at us, not at all embarrassed. A girl in a Turkish airline uniform took our tickets and passports.

"Everything is fine with you," she said to me, "but you don't have a British visa," and she looked inquiringly at Sasha and Marina.

"They have a direct connection to Moscow," I explained. "Here are the tickets."

"And where are the boarding passes for London – Moscow?" she asked.

"We will get them in London."

"Strange," the girl said. "Why are you flying through London when there is a direct flight Istanbul – Moscow?"

"We always fly through London; we shop at the duty-free there, they have great stores," Sasha managed to say.

"I cannot let them on the plane. I need permission from management," the girl said and spoke a few words in Turkish into her radio. "My colleague will take their documents to the office for the manager to look at. Don't worry, we will hold the flight."

Sasha stood there, pale as death. One of the escorts left, following the Turkish girl. The second one continued to watch us imperturbably. I took Tolik by the hand and went to buy him some candy at a nearby stall. About ten minutes passed. At the end of the corridor, two figures appeared: the girl and our Turk.

"Everything is in order," she said, handing the documents to Sasha. "Have a safe trip!"

We rushed into the boarding bridge.

Before takeoff, I managed to call my ex-wife in London and ask her to urgently find the lawyer George Menzies, whose son Duncan is in the same class as my son.

"I will be in London in three hours," I said. "A person is flying with me who will need a lawyer."