It was a cold, rainy day at the Philadelphia International
Airport when a battered gray taxi pulled up alongside the terminal. Wipers going full blast, the driver scanned
the curb carefully, then sped towards a car on which the driver’s door had just
closed. Pulling up, the cabbie waited
for the car to pull out.
Instead, the driver’s door opened again. A man got out and started motioning for
someone to come back to the car.
“Never mind,” said the passenger. “This is close enough.”
“You sure, miss?”
Twelve-year-old Sarah Emery opened her door and nodded. “I’ll be fine, thanks. How much is the fee?”
She fumbled about in her purse until she came up with the
correct amount, then paid the cabbie. “Keep
the change. Have a wonderful day!”
Going around to the trunk, she pulled out a big, green
suitcase and a smaller, blue bag which she always travelled with. An experienced traveler, she knew how to
carry both of them for the brief walk from the car to the check-in
counter. Waving back at the taxi, she
navigated her way through two parked cars and up over the curb. Glancing at the signs on the doors, she was
pleased to see the cabbie had dropped her off right by the Delta entrance. She wandered inside, tagged her bags, then
took her place in line.
“Next!” said the clerk, when it was finally her turn. “How are you today?”
“Pretty well, thank you,” said Sarah, depositing the bag she
wanted checked on the scale. “Just
hoping the rain doesn’t cause any trouble with the flight.”
“Yes, I’ve been watching it,” said the clerk, who looked to
be in his early twenties. “If it stays
the way it is now, the planes should be able to take off. You’re only in trouble if it gets worse. May I see an ID?”
“Certainly,” said Sarah, rummaging around in her purse. “The bag should be paid for, too. Here you are.”
“Thanks!” The clerk
typed her name into the computer, then checked to make sure all her information
was correct. “Going home?” he chatted as
she waited.
“Back to Minnesota!” Sarah declared. “It’s been two weeks since I left.”
“Wow, that’s far away.”
The clerk handed her ID back. “I’ll
bet it’s cold there.”
“It is in the winter,” Sarah replied. “In the summer, it’s warmer.”
“Ah, I see. Well,
you’re all set! Enjoy your trip!”
“Thanks!”
Sarah grabbed her carry-on and made her way through the
terminal over to the security line. It
was long, today, as there were a lot of people travelling. She took her position and waited, moving
slowly forward as the line permitted.
She hadn’t been waiting long when, suddenly, she heard two men talking
behind her.
“You hear about Howard?” one of them said.
“No, what about him?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone? From where?”
“Braves’ Triple-A team.
They released him.”
“I didn’t realize he was even still playing!”
It was a baseball conversation, and Sarah listened intently
until it was her turn in line. She
smiled at the TSA agent and handed him her boarding pass and ID.
“Okay,” he said, handing it back. “Hope you get through alright!”
“Thanks!” Sarah moved
forward and went through the usual security procedures—take off your shoes,
place all metals in a container, and shove the carry-on through security. It was a bother, but it all went off without
a hitch. In less than five minutes, she
was through, headed into the main part of the waiting area. Instantly, her eyes scanned the walls,
searching for a board with the departure listings.
“D13,” she read, next to her flight. “Oh, it’s right over there!”
She looked around for a seat, but all the ones around D13
were crowded. Flights were leaving from the
nearby gates, and their crowds spilled over.
Sarah glanced around a bit, then contented herself with a seat across
the hallway. “I’ll check and see if one
comes open in a few minutes.”
Waiting around at airports was always Sarah’s least favorite
part of travelling. It wasn’t so bad
when she had someone to wait with—then she could chat awhile, and she wouldn’t
get bored. But with no one around, the
spare time crept by like an eternity—a boring, actionless eternity. It was especially bad when waiting around for
the return trip, as Sarah didn’t have anything exciting to look forward
to. Oh well, she wasn’t complaining. She didn’t have anyone to complain to.
The minutes ticked past.
A couple seats came open, but these were filled before Sarah could even
get up. The plane at D11 was late—from
what Sarah could hear, it sounded like there had been a mechanical failure. An attendant wheeled a cart full of snacks
out and announced to those waiting in line that they could treat themselves, in
return for their patience.
Yawning, Sarah leaned back in her chair. She wished she’d brought a book along, or a
movie, or something—but no. No, all she
had were some tourist brochures she’d picked up at her hotel. “The Museum of We the People”—“Philadelphia
Museum of Art”—“Dutch Wonderland”—“ Assassins Hall of Fame”—etc.
She started reading through them to while the time away. Forty-six minutes elapsed before she’d
examined every single one of the brochures.
She glanced up and saw that the rain had intensified. Outside, a layer of fog was moving in, and
the sky was gray as could be. Wind blew
sheets of falling water over the tarmac outside.
Glancing at her watch, Sarah saw there were still forty-five
minutes to go before her next flight.
Then, she noticed that the terminal seemed to be emptying. That plane at D11 still hadn’t left yet, but
many of the people were headed towards the airport exit without getting on.
“Looks like that one’s not going to go,” Sarah muttered to
herself. “Hope mine’s alright. I’d better check.”
She got up from her seat and made her way over to the
departure board again. There, she paused
and scanned the list of flights until she found hers. It still read “On Time,” just as it had
before.
“Well, that’s good,” said Sarah. She noticed at the same time, though, that
several flights to destinations west of Philadelphia had been cancelled
already. Pittsburgh, Cincinnati,
Cleveland, Chicago—those flights weren’t going out. However, those were all south of Sarah’s
beloved Minneapolis. If the bad storms keep
away, hopefully I’ll still be able to make the trip—
“SARAH!!!”
Sarah jumped. That
voice was familiar—very familiar, even though it had been almost two years since
she’d last heard it in person. But to
hear it here—here, in Philadelphia of all places, why—that wasn’t possible, was
it? Sarah whirled around in surprise to
get a look at the speaker—
And her eyes widened in surprise as she saw it was exactly
who she thought it was.
“Tracy! Tracy Turner!”
she gasped.
A short, blond-haired girl who looked about eight but was
really Sarah’s age came running across the airport toward her friend. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed,
stopping just short of her friend (Tracy wasn’t a hugger). “What in the world are you doing in
Philadelphia?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Sarah said in
surprise. She and Tracy had been best
friends back in Minnesota—still were, only Tracy wasn’t around much
anymore. She’d moved to Chicago two
years ago and still lived there, as far as Sarah knew. Tracy was one of the last people Sarah’d
expected to meet in Philadelphia, but she didn’t mind the surprise. In fact, she was glad of it.
“I asked you first,” grinned Tracy. Two years hadn’t worn anything off that
sparkly personality, that cheeky grin, that exuberant spring in Tracy’s
step. She was certainly the more
outgoing of the two girls—not that Sarah was shy, but few were as outgoing as
Tracy.
“I was here for piccolo camp,” Sarah replied. “Two weeks, one hundred piccolo players—”
“One hundred?” gasped Tracy.
“Your ears must be bleeding!”
“No, they were good players.
At least,” Sarah made a face, “most of them were. The ones that weren’t got their mistakes
ironed out fairly shortly. We played in
a lot of small ensembles, as well as a large group that had all of us—”
“And you actually had people attending the concert? Jumping Joe Mauer! they must be brave!”
Ah, yes, that was one of Tracy’s little eccentricities. Sarah had noticed it from the first time
she’d met her friend. Tracy had all
sorts of funny things she’d say when she got excited. Never, “Rats!”, or “Phooey!”, or “Rubbish!”
for her. She had her own private
expressions which she used whenever she was stirred up about something (which
was frequently and often). There were
several, but three of the most common were:
·
“Jumping
Joe Mauer!” (Tracy was a huge Minnesota
Twins fan—Mauer had been one of their best players for several years. He first rose to prominence as a catcher, so
where the “Jumping” part came from was unclear…though he did play basketball in
high school.)
·
“Sounds
phonier than a golden gopher!” (The
University of Minnesota called its athletic teams the Golden Gophers. Presumably there was a reason behind the
name, but it certainly wasn’t well-suited for striking fear into the hearts of
opposing teams.)
·
“Cymbals
and catfish!” (Okay, that had absolutely
no meaning whatsoever, as far as anyone could tell. However, if you were friends with Tracy Turner,
you’d hear it at some point!)
“No, they enjoyed it,” said Sarah. “We had the piccolo players from the
Philadelphia Orchestra and the Dallas Symphony working with us too. The one from Dallas was really nice—I got to
sit with her at lunch on Thursday. She
was telling me about all the different music she’s played—it was really special! We had our concert Saturday, and most of the
players left Sunday, but I stuck around a couple extra days. My dad said I should see Independence Hall
before I left—”
“What would be the point of visiting Philadelphia if you
didn’t?” said Tracy. “I’m glad you got
to see it—and I’m glad you got to have such a great time here. Imagine, running into you here, at this
airport! What a coincidence!”
“So what are you here for?” Sarah asked.
“Codebreaking camp.” Noticing
Sarah’s surprised look, Tracy laughed.
“Just kidding, silly. I have an
uncle that lives here, so I was visiting him for a few days. I was supposed to fly back today, but my flight
just got cancelled, so I was just leaving when I saw you. Boy, am I glad I did! I hope you’ll be here a while!”
“Not really,” said Sarah.
“My plane leaves in forty-five minutes—”
Suddenly, everyone around Sarah started moaning. Startled, Sarah checked the board, instantly
discovering the explanation. Now, all
the flights read cancelled. As she saw
hers was among them, an announcement went over the loudspeaker that all flights
had been cancelled.
“Oh, phooey,” said Sarah.
“Now what am I going to do?”
“Cymbals and catfish!” exclaimed Tracy. “Guess this means they’ll have to put you up
in a hotel. My airline did that for
me. Look at it as an adventure! Come on; let’s get in line before it fills
up!”
The girls headed over, but as it turned out, six other people
were already in front of them, waiting for information from Delta about their
rescheduled flights. That may not seem
like many, but in an airport line, six people can take thirty minutes to get
their business straightened out. Sarah
would have been bored out of her wits if this had happened a few minutes ago,
but now that Tracy was around, she didn’t mind.
The girls had fun catching up, comparing stories about what had happened
the past couple years and chatting over old times. By the time it was Sarah’s turn in line, she
was thoroughly enjoying herself.
“Weather’s supposed to be bad the rest of the day,” said the
woman at the Delta kiosk. “We’ve
rescheduled you for 9:15 tomorrow morning.”
“Tomorrow?” said Sarah.
“What’ll I do tonight?”
“We’ve booked a room for you,” the woman replied. “It’s at the Embassy Suites, just five
minutes from here. There’s a shuttle
that runs there. When you check in,
it’ll be under your name.”
“Embassy Suites?!” exclaimed Tracy. “That’s where I’m staying!”
“It is?”
“Yes! Isn’t this
great? We can ride over together! Oh, I’m so excited!”
Sarah laughed. “Now
that I’ve run into someone I know, this is
great! Let’s head over now!”
“Sounds good to me!” said Tracy. As the girls started for the exit, she pulled
out her cellphone. “I’ve just got to
call my dad and let him know about the change of plans.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
Sarah stared over at the window.
The weather was getting worse by the second, but her spirits were
rising. She was so glad to have met a
friend at the airport—especially her best one.
“Hello, dearest Papa?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a secret control room, hidden inside some super secure
government building in the D.C. area, a short man with a small black beard
picked up the phone. Lights flashed off
his face, which suddenly got an excited look.
He put his hand over the mouthpiece, whirled around in his swivel chair,
and called to someone across the room, “It’s her!” Taking away his hand, he spoke back into the
mouthpiece. “Go ahead, 3145-008!”
“My flight’s been rescheduled for tomorrow,” Tracy said, “but
they’re putting me up at a hotel for the evening. I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess. Oh, and you won’t believe who I ran into at
the airport! Sarah! She was in town for something, and her flight
was rescheduled too! Isn’t that nice?”
“Got it, 3145-008. Keep going.”
“Better yet, she’s coming to my hotel! We’ll spend the night, head back to the
airport tomorrow morning, and be on our way home before the afternoon if all
goes well! Looking forward to seeing
you!”
“Very good, 3145-008.
Any trouble so far?”
“Aw, I love you too, Dad.
Blow mom a kiss for me! Talk to
you later, bye.”
As the man hung up the phone, his friend across the room
stood up. “Well, what did she say?”
“She found Sarah Emery alright, 4231. The flight’s delayed, and they’re going to
the same hotel. So far, no one’s giving
them any trouble.”
“Thank God!” 4231 ran
his fingers through his silver-streaked black hair. He was tall, but this was difficult to tell
because he was also broad-shouldered.
Lines of worry crossed his face, making it appear more wrinkled than it
actually was.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” the first man asked. “I mean, with these recent developments, we
can’t afford to take chances—”
“We’re not taking any chances!” 4231 was adamant. “3145-008’s our best agent, and she’s already
got a valuable connection. If she can’t
pull this assignment off, nobody can.”
He sighed. “I just hope it’s not
too big for her.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
DID YOU ENJOY TERROR AT
GLASGOW STATION?
Now, you can
own it, in this beautiful new volume available from Amazon.com! Have Marilyn’s thrilling quest to save two
trains from gangsters on your shelf for whenever you want to read it. Relive the suspense as Burt Kane and the
Windy City Devils seek to wreak havoc in the middle of a Montana snowstorm in
Terror at Glasgow Station!
Note: Due to
travel, Chapter 2 of The Best Kind of a
Friend Is a Secret Agent will appear next Tuesday, instead of Monday. Thanks for reading!
The waiting, the waiting, the wwwaaaiiitttiiinnnggg...
ReplyDelete