10:05 to Heathrow

Colin clenched his fists and closed his eyes. He had read an article on conscious breathing and decided to try. He took a long, deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. His eyes were still closed but he could feel it. Wheels up. They were off the ground.

He was on the 10:05 overnight flight from Dulles to Heathrow, and he wasn't entirely sure why. He opened his eyes and looked out the window before quickly closing them again. The city lights of Washington were a beautiful sight from the air. They were also a reminder that he was no longer on the ground.

When the plane reached cruising altitude Colin opened his eyes and dried his hands, rubbing his sweaty palms into his brown, corduroy trousers. He ordered a coffee from the flight attendant. The woman seated next to him ordered a glass of red wine. She was a young, blonde woman in a dark purple cable knit sweater. Judging by her accent Colin imagined she was flying home.

"Don't like flying much, do you?" She asked.

"It's alright," Colin replied. "Not my favorite. I'd rather take a boat."

"Don't worry. the wings hardly ever fall off."

A look of shock came over Colin's face before giving way to a smile. They both laughed.

"First time visiting London?"

"Yes. First time."

"Business?"

For a moment Colin thought to tell her the story of why he was on the 10:05 to Heathrow. "Pleasure" was his answer.

The story began six weeks earlier, when Colin received a phone call from the London law offices of Goodwood & Goodwood informing him that he was the beneficiary of a $20,000 inheritance from the estate of an Edward Maxwell Armitage. A man Colin had neither met or even heard of.

Along with the money, Colin also received a small box containing various personal items belonging to Mr. Armitage. Among these were a fat, gold nib Conway-Stewart fountain pen, bottle of Royal blue ink, a key chain with a single key, some old black and white photographs that looked like they had been taken a hundred years ago, and a small, black Moleskin notebook. The pages of which were completely blank except for a London address written on the inside cover. Any more information about Mr. Armitage, or the money, or the notebook and the address in London the Goodwoods couldn't, or wouldn't say.

"Evelyn," the woman in the purple sweater said, as she held out her hand.

"Colin. Nice to meet you."

"I hope you enjoy the rest of the flight, Colin." Evelyn took off her shoes, turned out the light above her seat, and said goodnight.

Colin finally worked up the nerve to look out the window somewhere over Ireland. Wings still firmly attached, morning sunlight bouncing off the clouds.

"Any better?" Evelyn asked, with eyes still closed.

"Oh, I'm fine." Colin replied. "It's take off and landings that give me the most trouble. Once I've been up here long enough I could almost forget I'm on a plane and begin to imagine I could be on a bus or a train."

Evelyn smiled.

The plane landed on time and in one piece, as Colin had hoped. Colin and Evelyn stood up and collected their bags.

"I volunteer at the British Museum on Fridays," Evelyn said as they moved towards the exit. "If you're free, stop by around noon and I'll buy you a cup of tea."

"I will. Thank you."

"Until Friday then."

Colin smiled and they said goodbye.

After going through customs, Colin bought an Oyster card and took the Underground to Green Park Station. From Green Park he took a right on Piccadilly, and another right onto Half Moon Street. He found the address and rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He tried the heavy iron door knocker. Again, no answer. He took the key chain out of his pocket and looked at it for a full minute before putting the key in the lock and turning the handle. He opened the door to the house and stepped inside.

A lamp was on in the foyer. The room had been decorated by someone who was well traveled, or at least by someone with eclectic taste. Colin stood on a fine Persian carpet as he took in his surroundings. To his left was an 18th century tall case clock, flanked by two Regency side chairs. To his right, a large mahogany sideboard decorated with an assortment of artifacts ranging from Chinese ceramics and African masks, to Egyptian alabaster and an English silver claret jug.

Directly in front of him was a long hallway with a white and black checkered tile floor that led from the foyer to a dimly lit room at the back of the house. Colin followed the hallway, which was lined on either side with marble statues and leafy green plants. The room at the back was warm and had a homely feeling that the museum-like foyer lacked. There was a slow-burning fire in the large, open fireplace. A well-worn leather Chesterfield sofa sat in the center of the room, in front of a low Chinese coffee table.

On the table was a wooden box, identical to the one Colin had received containing Mr. Armitage's personal effects. The contents of this box were similar to the previous one. Fountain pen and ink, gold pocket watch, compass, a ticket for the Night Riviera sleeper train to Penzance, and a letter addressed to Colin, sealed in red wax.

Colin broke the seal. A small black and white photo fell out. He held his hand to his face, covering his mouth. It was a photo of his mother sitting on a garden wall with a young man in a fine suit. She died years earlier, when Colin was a boy. He had never seen a photo of her that young. She looked happy. He read the letter, which was written in the same Royal blue ink that was in his box.

"Dear Colin,

Sorry for all this cloak and dagger business. It's been a real joy planning this, and not everyday that a dying man gets to have this much fun. I hope you'll indulge me. There's a great adventure in store for you, if you're up for it. The experience is worth more than $20,000 and all the contents of this house. Perhaps now I can do for you what I never had the opportunity to do for your dear mother.

When you get to Penzance, a friend will be waiting at the station. His name is Miles Faraday. He'll set you in the right direction. From there, all will be revealed. Good luck.

Your friend,

Max Armitage”

Colin was still. He wondered if Evelyn had ever been to Penzance. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.