The Ransom

Tracey held the armrests tight, putting all her weight against the back of the chair. She was in the middle of making a deal with the universe to keep her safe on this flight. That's when the seat, one seat over to hers, was finally filled up.

She must have been the last passenger to arrive. Tracey looked out of the small circular window at the other jets and the people wearing orange, luminescent vests, carelessly throwing the luggage into an aircraft.

“Excuse me,” said the lady who just sat down. She was wearing a navy blue pant suit, a matching mask and had the air of someone who felt important. Her blue eyes dipped to where Tracy’s left hand was holding the lady’s arm rest instead of her own. “Sorry,” Tracey said and moved her hand over.

The lady removed her mask for an instant, to dab at her upper lip with a tissue then put the mask back on. It was the first full face she'd seen on the plane. Tracey thought about how much is changing because of the pandemic.

Tracey’s law school had recently shut down due to the virus. To save some rent money, she was going back to live with her family in Toronto while attending online classes.

The flight from Victoria to Toronto was only three hours and yet, Tracey who has never slept on a flight her whole life was asleep as soon as the plane was safely in the air.

A couple of hours later, Tracey was awake. She couldn’t open her eyes yet, but she was aware of her surroundings.

Tracey felt the air hostess’s polyester uniform brush against her skin. “She’s asleep,” the lady next to her said. “I see. The flight has landed but I’ll come back to wake her when we can exit the plane. It may be a few more minutes,” whispered the hostess and wheeled away.

“Hey, You awake?” the lady whispered. Tracey wanted to say yes but she couldn’t. She felt something poke her for an instant but she couldn’t respond.

The lady picked up a call. “…I had to fly economy to get here so quickly. Twenty-Thousand,” the lady was saying into the phone. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have fired you for that. I’m sorry. Yes, I heard about her hospital bills but now I’m paying for those. Where do you want to meet? Okay, wait. Let me write that down… Alright. I’ll do that.”

The announcement that passengers can exit came on and Tracey willed herself to wake up but her head was groggy. A while later, the hostess was nudging her. “Miss. Miss.” She managed to pry her eyes open. “We’ve landed,” she said.

Tracey got up and noticed that the plane was near empty and she rushed to take out her school bag from beneath her seat when she noticed a little black book on the seat next to her. “Where is the lady who was next to me?” she asked the hostess. “Oh, she left long ago.”

It was none of her business. Maybe she’ll be back for it, Tracey thought. Still, a gut feeling told her to pick it up. She could probably catch up to her at check out but she was nowhere to be found.

Tracey opened the book and realized it was being used as a journal. There was a list under a heading that read “Video ideas.”

The last thing written, bookmarked by an elastic band around the page, read the only address in the book without a name or phone number.

Tracey recognized the address immediately. It was close to her old university. It was a laundromat but it closed down years ago. It had been empty since. Some of her classmates used to walk up a narrow catwalk that led to the backdoor of the laundromat to drink and loiter.

The time for the location read “7.30 AM Tomorrow,” and it was underlined thrice. Driving to downtown to return a stranger’s book? She groaned.

She was about to just throw it in the trash when her finger traced the quality leather that bound the book and leafed through the crisp, exquisite paper. It looked new. Only three pages were written on. Why waste it? She thought and slipped it into her bag.

At home, after dinner, her mother turned on the news. Tracey was just about to head upstairs when the picture of the woman on the plane came on.

“…Viewers can tune in tomorrow to watch an exclusive, remote interview of Jane Manning. A soccer mom turned millionaire for literally writing the book on parenting during quarantine,” the anchor said.

“I was sitting next to a celebrity!” Tracey told her little sister. They were both on her bed deciding on a movie to watch on her laptop before sleeping.

“Maybe if you return her book, she’ll pay you. These might be her next winning ideas,” her sister said. “I don’t think so. Plus, I won’t ask her for money,” Tracey replied, gallantly.

While her sister watched the movie, Tracey learned all she could from her phone about Jane Manning. She started out on youtube by making videos on kid-friendly recipes and ideas about activities to do with children. Her views and her blog peaked during quarantine when parents had to take care of their children full time after schools shut down.

Her videos progressed teaching parents on how to homeschool kids, how to reward them for good behaviour and so on. Then, she wrote her million dollar book. Her life seemed perfect. She was obviously rich by looking at the size of her kitchen. She had a good looking husband who came onto a video with her and her kids were adorable.

Tracy searched up her net worth. The website said it was $12 million and her husband's was $52.

“Now that is impressive. She’s made millions doing what she loved and she stuck with it until it made her money while I’m going to law school for the sole reason of making money, knowing I’m going to hate every second of actually being a lawyer.”

“You don’t have to become a lawyer,” her sister said. “I do.” “Why?” she asked.

“I will have $92000 of student debt by graduation. Nothing else I can do will make up for the income I lost going back to school and the debt. I have to be a lawyer for at least another 10 years to make this degree make any sense. Unless I get a $100,000 exit ticket.”

The familiar feeling of defeat wrapped around her. Since Tracey was an honour student all her life, and knowing she didn’t want to go into medicine or engineering, law school seemed the right option for her as a teen.

It had only taken her a month of interning at a lawyer’s office after her B.A for a summer to know this was not a good fit for her. She’d also realized as she grew up, she didn't want the car, the big house and the prestige that she thought she needed to be happy.

Yet, that’s what she’d told everyone she was going to be since grade seven. Before she knew what was going on, she was accepted to law school in Victoria and was on a plane to get there with all her family’s dreams for her riding on it.

Now, she only wanted a job that she’d actually like, be out of debt and be able to support her family a bit too. It would be great if she can make a career out of her love for photography but that seemed impossible.

She’d struggle at first. She’d need time and her parents would most likely cut her off if she quits law school. Then, how was she going to pay her debt off and support herself?

She had to follow through now. She’s already finished her second year. “The next ten years. Serving time for not taking control.” Tracey swallowed.

Her little sister was staring at her. “Well, I want to be a lawyer so I can buy a big house, car and argue in court like Elle woods,” she said. “If you want to be a lawyer, then you should become nothing else,” Tracey replied.

She fell asleep early and woke up at 6 am. Unable to go back to sleep, she figured it was fate. She got dressed, showered, tossed her camera in her school bag for a few morning shots and drove over to the address in the book.

The small businesses nearby were either shut down or not open yet. The street was pretty much deserted except for the black hummer that was parked out of sight behind a building. The passengers inside were watching Tracey without her knowledge.

Tracey was early. She stood outside the front entrance to the abandoned laundromat until she got bored. The door’s latch was broken a long time ago. After checking there were no homeless people she might accidentally wake up, Tracey slipped inside.

There was nothing but a chair and sunlight was pouring in through the cloudy windows. There was a tote bag on the chair. Tracey looked around and slowly walked towards it. She opened the Louis Vuitton bag and saw stacks of brown coloured bills with the head of Sir Robert Borden. She picked up the bag.

Suddenly, she was yanked to the other side and thrown face first, on the floor by a man. The bag in her hand spun a full circle spraying the bills all over the floor before she let go.

“You really thought you could blackmail me?” said the familiar female voice. A heavy boot missed Tracey’s face and landed on her shoulder. “Oww, no. It’s me. From the airport. I just came to return your book,” she whimpered as she caught a glance of a gun in the man’s hand.

“Wait. It’s not her,” the lady growled. Then Tracey heard the siren. It was the police. “Who called the cops?” the man’s voice said. “I don’t know but I can’t get arrested. Let’s get out of here. Now!”

When Tracey finally hoisted herself up, no one was there. The room looked like it had just rained money. The siren had died away. They must have been driving through.

They didn’t even care about the money, Tracey realized. She picked them up as fast as she could and stuffed them in her school bag. The black car that was hiding and watching her saw the girl go out looking the same as she came in except for the shoe print on her sweater. This time the girl noticed them as well. They were waiting for someone else.

She thought about the gun.They were planning to hurt or even kill whoever blackmailed her. A life for $20,000? She walked to her car and threw the money bag in the backseat. If the person blackmailing Manning knew the city, they’ll know the catwalk by the laundromat’s back entrance where a car can’t follow them.

Tracey heard a gunshot. Her throat went dry. In the next two minutes, a man no older than 20 was running out of the laundromat into the catwalk and the hummer could not get in. On the other side, a small Toyota Corolla picked up the man and drove off after shooting some photos of Manning and her friend pointing the gun at them.

Sitting with the $20,000 dollars and the man’s USB key with the video of Manning that could ruin her reputation, they called Manning’s number. This time, the ransom was $200,000.