He started the drive in silence. He sat there, one hand loosely on the wheel, in shirt and jeans, with his leather jacket on. Soon he was overheated and wanting the distraction of music. Flicking the release on his seatbelt, he slipped off his jacket, then clicked the button on for the CD player. A swaggering beat resonated from the speakers, then some jabs from a synthesiser. It was Endtroducing by DJ Shadow. He turned it up. The miles were eaten up quickly, He emptied his mind, closed his hands around the wheel. Coming through Templepatrick and the switch from motorway to carriageway, he turned the music down and attempted to focus.
As he passed the private businesses selling car parking spaces leading up to the airport, he still had no idea what he was going to do. Next he was at the airport, parking in the short stay car park. Then he was seated in arrivals with a take-out coffee. Mike checked the screens again. The plane would be another twenty minutes at least, then the passengers would have to get through passport control. He necked the coffee, then nipped outside for a smoke. Smoking signs told him that he couldn’t stand too close to the wide automatic doors, so he shuffled along next to a taxi rank. Despite it being Spring, there was a cool nip from a breeze and a light sprinkling of rain along with it. As he was licking the cigarette paper and rolling it over, a taxi door swung open and a burly cab driver hauled himself out.
“Alright?” the driver asked gruffly.
“How’s it going?” replied Mike absently.
The driver had a fag hanging out of his mouth and started to pat down his pockets for a light.
His thoughts and feelings were swirling all around and he couldn’t make head nor tail of them. He couldn’t find the way through. A large plane swooped down above them, emblazed with the orange of ‘Ryanair’ on the sides. Richard was about to arrive off one of those things and Mike had no idea why he was there. He was a rational guy. He tried to make sense of things. Mike was used to problems like doing sound at gigs, like finding a broken wire or a console that needed new batteries or a desk that wasn’t set up right. Those things made sense. Hell, even planning a house job was all about working through the problems and finding rational answers. But this thing – this was something else.
“Can’t even smoke in your own cab now,” the driver complained to him with a shake of the head.
“What’s that?” said Mike absently, his thoughts still far away.
“Coffin nails,” he said, holding up the cigarette. “Can’t even smoke in your own cab – gotta go out in the fuckin’ foundering cold.”
“Aye, it’s cool enough,” Mike said, dragging on his own number, itching to get back inside.
“And here’s me owning me own car and I can’t smoke in it. There’s no one in it. Not like there’s any kids inside frigsake, it’s empty. Sure is it not bad enough I do all the work and the bosses take a bigger whack of the money, ay?”
“Life’s a bit shit sometimes,” Mike said, throwing the burning end down and walking away.
On his return he bought a second coffee and took up sentry position again. He could see the luggage carousels starting up inside, but there were no bags on them yet. It wouldn’t be long now.
When the stream of passengers arrived and the doors opened, he bolted upright, eyes scanning the crowd. He had never met Richard, but he’d seen pictures of him before. He had a recent picture open on his phone from The Belfast Telegraph, just to be sure. A wave of faces came through the doors. His heart-rate quickened and his throat was dry. The coffee had left a sour taste and had only added to his antsiness. Towards the back of the queue, there were several travellers close together. He squinted up his eyes, then double-checked the picture on his mobile.
“It fuckin’ is you,” he said under his breath.
Mike’s eyes bore into him, but Richard was totally unaware. He was carrying a suitcase and a backpack, smartly dressed, nodding politely to the various staff as he passed by them. Anger, hatred even, pulsed through Mike’s blood. He felt strong, brewing for a fight, as if he were twice his normal size. He wanted to obliterate him, just like that. He could walk up, smash his nose across his stupid face, knock him down, then kick the almighty shite clean out of him.
But he knew he wasn’t going to do that.
Not yet anyway.
Richard walked on, still ignorant of Mike’s presence, amid the dozens of travellers. Mike hovered near a bin, making a meal of putting his cup inside, while keeping his eyes set on Richard’s back. He let the anger return to where it had come from. He’d just store it away until the right time. Once Richard was far enough away, Mike went in pursuit. Richard exited the building and turned left towards the taxi rank. He pulled his coat collar up, shivering against the breeze and joined the queue. It was already long. Mike walked straight past, parallel to the queue.
“Still here then?” said Mike, approaching the taxi driver, as he hastily stubbed out another smoke, heading back to his cab.
“I’ve just done another two drop offs.”
Mike shrugged and then checked back over his shoulder. The queue was moving slowly and Richard was about five from the front. Mike hurried off towards his car. He keeps glancing back, but it was harder to keep track of where Richard was. “Fucksake,” he cursed, jogging the last stretch to his car.
Jumping in, he
