Mysterious Passenger in First-Class

“Welcome!” stated the young woman at the doorway as Don approached, turned into the cabin noted as first-class, and took his seat.

“Attention, we’re being pushed away from the terminal. Everything should be stored in its appropriate location in preparation for departure. Attendants, secure any free-standing service carts and be seated. We’re number 7 in the line-up. Thank you for choosing British Airways for your flying needs.” added the captain before turning the seat belt sign on.

Turning the seat belt sign off and announcing that the passengers were free to move about the cabin, the captain pressed the autopilot and unbuckled his seat bests as well. “Another perfect take-off for yours truly,” he stated smiling as if he needed to impress the co-pilot and accompanying technician.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve seen that all before. Show us something that we haven’t seen, then we’ll be impressed.” laughed the co-pilot as she turned to get the technician involved in the banter.

“Nope, not getting into that this time.” replied the tech as he waved his hand in front of him as if he were swatting a fly.

Laughing, the captain stepped away and headed for the restroom intentionally avoiding any further critiquing by his associates. Greeting the first-class attendant standing at the door dividing the cockpit and the front compartment, each exchanged a cordial hello and continued about their personal affairs. Nothing abnormal about taking a lavatory break.

After reaching cruising altitude, the procedure was very simple. Put the flight controls on autopilot, monitor the operations as normal, and enjoy the flight. But unknown to the captain or anyone in the cockpit, one of the first-class passengers was about to die.

Poising as a currier, the man took on a mission, a critical mission paid for by the Investors. The information being hand-delivered to the Langley location was something that couldn’t be transmitted or mailed without fear of being intercepted by counter-espionage operatives.

It wasn’t an accident that could be foreseen. His health was normal, or so he thought. There wasn’t any feeling of dizziness or fainting or vomiting, as the currier detached the handcuffs from his left wrist. He entered the restroom.

Sliding the locking mechanism across to lock the door, the man turned to the mirror to take a quick look at himself.

“This is a fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into,” he whispered to the man in the mirror. “Yes, this is a fine mess. We’ve got to get this done and over with before we're discovered,” he told himself as beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. 

Once he was finished with his conversation, he set about his necessary piss break. It wasn’t abrupt at first, but within seconds he was thrown into the mirror by the force that would take his life leaving his body laying back over the commode blocking the entry doorway. Minutes passed before the currier was noticed being absent from his seat.

Liquor wasn’t the catalyst for the heart attack. It was stress. It was knowing that the fate of the human race was in the attache case and if he didn’t deliver the case intact, he’d be shot. It was too much for the man who appeared to be in excellent health.

“Sir are you okay?” asked the attendant as he banged on the lavatory’s door.

“There’s no answer. Something is wrong!” stated the other attendant as she banged on the door again.

Then another attendee joined them with a key to open the door. Someone had to check on the man. He wasn’t answering. He wasn’t calling out. Something had happened. They were sure of it.

Stepping to the cockpit entryway, one of the other attendants knocked on the door. He waited as the co-pilot came to the door and opened it to greet a red-faced man in his late thirties.

“We have a situation!” he announced in the most profound manner he could without startling the remaining passengers seated in the front compartment.

“What is it?” asked the co-pilot as she walked through the dividing doorway and into the first-class compartment.

“We have a passenger, a man, who’s not answering us when we ask him to open the lavatory door. I think he’s either extremely sick, or fainted, or dead.” stated the attendant in a controlled nervous response.

Across the aisle near the third window from the front sit Don from the NSA. Don spotted the attache case under the seat where the man was sitting. It was detached from the handcuffs and unguarded. Don slipped out of his seat and leaned down to pull the case from its hiding place.

“There we are. Now, that’s what I call efficiency,” stated Don in a voice only he could hear.

No one questioned him, no one watched him, and no one cared. The moving and attention of those in the first-class compartment were focused on the person locked in the restroom. Those clamoring about trying to find a key to open the door paid no attention to the older man slowly moving across the seats.

Don acted as if he was following protocol should anything happen to disconnect the courier from his package. Now, amid the chaos, Don became the owner of the attache and whatever was locked inside. He lifted his light overcoat, slid the attache case under it, and covered it to conceal it from prying eyes.

“Now, when the drama has played out and I’ve landed in good ole US of A, I’ll take a peek at the contents in this valuable attache,” said Don.

At thirty-three thousand feet, there’s little that can be done for anyone unless there’s a doctor on board. Even a certified nurse could assist those in distress, but as of yet, the man in the restroom wasn’t responding to the repeated calls of the attendants standing outside. He either wasn’t responding because he chose not to or there was something more serious going on besides a bad case of stomach cramps.

“Sir, he’s not responding to us,” stated the senior flight attendant as she stood at the cockpit door waiting on instructions from her boss.

Don wasn’t so worried about what was going on as he was what he was going to do if the man exited the restroom. Don concluded that the man was indeed in trouble of some kind. But until he witnessed the man physically walking from the lavatory, he’d keep the case under his overcoat.

“Excuse me sir.” interjected one of the attendants. “The man’s attache case is missing. Would you happen to have seen it?” asked the youngest of the crew as she stopped directly beside the seat where Don’s overcoat was laying.

“It’s our job to secure any personal items of every one of our guests when it’s assumed that they are incapacitated for some reason. If you are a friend of his and know where the attache case is located, we’d like to know,” she stated as she waited for a response that could justify its whereabouts.

“Miss, whether you are aware of it or not, the gentleman and I boarded about the same time. We exchanged pleasantries like most of those here in the cabin. During that moment of introduction, the gentleman asked if I’d look out for the case should something happen. I assured him that everything would be okay, but as you can tell, things have gone a bit downhill in the last hour. So, to answer your question, yes, I have seen the attached case and have it in my custody for safe keeping.” stated Don as he pulled out his official identification from the National Security Agency authorizing him to carry sensitive documents if that was the case.

“I see.” stated the young lady as she took the wallet containing the identification, read the face of the card with its signatures and stamps placed there by the federal government, and returned the wallet to its owner.

“I see,” repeated the attendant as she looked Don over to assess if he was telling the truth.

All in all, Don appeared to be exactly who he claimed to be. There wasn’t any evidence that he wasn’t with the federal government, yet the attendant took a mental picture of his face for reference once she got to a laptop and could check the records of those boarding.

“Sir, I’ll verify the information with our roster, and your identification, so in the meantime, please keep the attache case out of sight.

Turning the attache case with handle and locks facing him, he pushed his overcoat back far enough to expose the key slots. Working with two paperclips, he jimmied the locks until both flopped open. Pushing the sliding clasp each outwardly, the toggle clamps released the latches.

“Now, we’re in business,” whispered Don as he raised the lid of the case and took a peek inside.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he asked himself as he looked at the contents.

Once opened, inside the attache case were several different items. There was a clear slide-lock plastic bag resembling a large storage bag with folders on the side, all of them the same size. There was a larger binder that resembled a monthly calendar. It wasn’t as thick as the monthly planners Don himself used, but it was a planner of some sort.

Pushing the less interesting smaller plastic bag aside, Don pulled the larger item out from underneath it and laid it on his lap. Easing his overcoat back over the case, he wanted to conceal it as long as possible.

The planner, booklet, or whatever it was, had to be of great importance if it was being hand-delivered to its destination. The fear of electronic data being intercepted was very prevalent around the world. A simple means for better security, that’s what the use of a currier conveyed.

Before lifting the front cover, Don noticed the same symbol on the planner as was on the attache case under his overcoat. In essence, the two were tied together being sent from the same agency or organization to America to some individual associated with the symbol. But who was it being delivered to was the question.

He looked at the symbol, then opened the front cover to reveal the first introductory page. It had a title at the top that reads:

THE SUBJUGATION OF HUMANITY

Phase Three

“This is interesting,” stated Don as he looked at the title page. He was about to turn to the next page when his attendant stepped over and stood by his seat.

“Excuse me, Sir, the captain would like a word with you,” she stated in a low, but determined tone.

Watching the man who had drawn the attention of the captain because he stole the briefcase of a passenger who was now locked in a restroom, she was skeptical of his purpose on the plane.

His actions were not considered to be honorable. The captain wanted an explanation before making his decision as to whether to hold him for theft or contact his company. There were numerous other choices available, and charges were pending until the meeting was finished. Then, the decision could be made as to what to do.

“Just a moment and I’ll join you so you can escort me, and old man, to the captain.” laughed Don as he unbuckled himself from his seat and stood up.

“Right this way sir, please.” stated the attendant as she motioned for him to move out into the aisle beside her.

As with any other time he’d been called into question for his actions, Don felt his back pocket to be sure he had his wallet with all of his identifications. Then he checked his holster to make sure he had his protection should he need it.

“I sure hope this doesn’t take long, I’m starving,” stated Don as he noticed the time since his last meal.

He wasn’t trying to be funny. He was hungry.

“Step this way.” urged the attendant as she waved Don through the doorway and into the smaller compartment at the front of the jet.

“Captain, this is the passenger I spoke to you about.” stated the attendant as she stepped away from the two men and left the cockpit.

“Okay.” the captain replied just as the attendant disappeared.

“Captain, what exactly is this about?” asked Don in a manner that implied he had no idea as to why he was on the hot seat.

“Sir, what this is about is the fact that while one of your fellow passengers is experiencing a dramatic event, you’re in the process of stealing his attache case. I’d say that was something we need to discuss. Won’t you?” asked the captain in an authoritative tone.

“Oh, that!” exclaimed Don as he reached for his wallet to validate his identification for the pilot. As he leaned backward ever-so-slightly, he exposed his gun in its holster strapped to his chest.

“Sir, you’re carrying a gun!” stated the Captain as he leaned back away from his new acquaintance.

“Well, yes, yes, I am. I’m authorized to carry by my government. You see, I’m an agent for the federal government, an NSA agent from the Langley, Virginia office. I’ve been an agent for over 30 years, Sir.” added Don as he pulled his identification documents out of his wallet and presented them to the pilot for review.

“I see.” stated the captain as he read over the information, the verification from the self-proclaimed federal agent.

Watching the pilot and since there were still questions as to why he took the attache, Don felt compelled to advise him that whatever he told him about the situation was to remain between the two men.

“Now, Sir, what exactly is the issue here?” asked the interested man setting at the controls.

“Captain, as the senior supervisor of the NSA, it’s my duty, my sworn duty, to take any action I deem necessary to fulfill my assigned mission. The man with the attache case is a currier. He is or was carrying classified information related directly to a case our agency is working to solve. I’ve been authorized to obtain this case at any cost.” stated the senior supervisor of the NSA.

“Oh.” stated the pilot in a less-than-anticipated responsive tone.

“So, you’re the dog after the bone?” asked the captain as he smiled a suspicious smile.

“Yes, I’m the dog after the bone. If you feel you need to contact my boss to verify any of my information, please feel free to do so. I’ve told you the truth. Now that you know why I visited your wonderful city, I’d like to get back to my very expensive seat and drink a glass of that very expensive champagne.” stated the dog looking for the bone.

“Oh, and I report to the President’s Intelligence Oversight Board if you need to know who to contact to verify who I am,” stated Don as he stood up and made his way out of the cockpit.

“Nice to have met you, sir Captain,” stated Don just as he disappeared out the door and into the first-class compartment.

Passing the curious man on her way back to report to the captain as ordered, the flight attendant could only guess what was discussed or agreed upon by the two men. It wasn’t a normal occurrence for a passenger to be summoned to the captain’s cabin. So, in effect, the man was either going to be punished or was going to be turned over to the officials when upon arrival at JFK, New York.

“Captain, as you ordered sir, I’m here.” responded the attendant.

“Yes, well, the passenger is to be treated with the utmost professionalism and courtesy. Should there be anything that he needs, please see that he is provided with all that our airlines have to offer. That will be all. Please return to work.” ordered the captain as he turned back to the front of the plane will reeling from the barrage of questions swirling in his brain.

Pulling the seat belt across his lap, Don secured the buckle with the familiar snap. The question-and-answer session was over. His goal was achieved, at least until the man in the lavatory is freed. If that were to happen, well, the whole story and the trip would change to face the challenge. He’d had them before. He handled them as they arose. There wouldn’t be anything he hadn’t seen before, anything.

“Sir, I wanted to thank you for making my job easier for me. I mean the captain calling you forward and all that. I appreciate your compliance to my superior’s request.” stated the young attendant as she handed Don his glass of very expensive champagne.

“You’re just doing your job, young lady. And I’m sure you understand I’m doing mine as well. Thank you for the champagne. Should I need anything else I’ll press the attendant’s button.” stated Don as he smiled and took a sip from the tall, slender glass he held in his old, tired hand.

At the restroom door, there wasn’t much left for the flight attendants except to either take a pry bar and pry the door open or detach the door from its hinges using a metal cylinder to slide it up through the hinges’ clasps.

Several other suggestions had been voiced, but up until the present moment, nothing was being tried to free the man. If he was alive and unconscious, then that wasn’t a major issue unless he had a seizure or passed out from something he drank before boarding.

It was rare for passengers to become drunk before boarding. The small, but fully stocked bars in the terminals were known for their ability to lure the unsuspecting drinker into their webs of alcohol and whispers. Won’t be the first time.

It was proposed but soon discarded because the two greeting attendances recalled the man entering the first-class cabin. They stated he was fully conscious, coherent, and alert to their directions. He followed the rules to the letter and when addressed, he answered them without hesitation. He wasn’t drunk.

“Well now, we have a situation here that calls for professionalism and a certain amount of diplomacy to avoid what could be a very embarrassing event.” stated the attendant in charge.

As far as she could remember, at no time was there a dead person on any of her flights. She didn’t want to guess that the man was dead but if he was, then special diplomacy tactics were to prevent unpleasantness for any of the other guests.

Motioning for her team to gather in the small but secluded kitchenette behind the passenger compartment, the supervisor asked if any of the staff had the experience needed to handle this situation. Much to her dissatisfaction, no career attendant had any experience moving a dead body.

“Okay, well we need to come up with some kind of plan to get into the lavatory, assess the situation, and move the person or body out to another location, preferably downstairs. We could mention the fact that we have a location on the deck below where people who are extremely sick can be treated by a professional if there was one aboard. It sounded like a plan to them, but no one had an idea how to get into the lavatory.

Forming a small circle at the corner of the sink, their voices were loud enough that Don overheard part of their situation. It wasn’t abnormal for him to intercede, to take part in resolving a situation if he could. That’s what he was trained to do early on in his career. He moved many dead bodies, especially those who got in between him and his assignments. So, one more wouldn’t be a problem. It was time to take some control and help this small group of attendants if he could.

Unbuckling himself and standing up, Don felt in his pocket for the trusty knife he carried with him all the time.

Finding the knife as he walked up to the small group, the NSA agent butted in as if he was part of the staff. “Excuse me, but I happen to overhear that you, all of you, could use some help. I can get into the lavatory.” Don stated as he sided up with the supervisor for his next announcement.

“Sir, I’m sure we can handle this without any of your amateur antics.” said one of the younger men as if he had all the answers.

“Well, sir, I can address you as Sir, right? I’m confident you have no clue as to how to get into the lavatory. If you had the ability, the talent, the skills, you’d already have the door open and assessing the condition of the man trapped behind the door.” stated Don as he felt for his identification.

Checking to assure himself that the attache case was not visible to anyone, he pulled his wallet out and presented his credentials. At the top of the identification card was the FEDERAL AGENT UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. Once the card was shown to the supervisor, there wasn’t anything more said by the young man trying to justify his job.

“Well, Mr. Federal Agent, I can see that you’re just what we’re looking for if you can get the door open. But, as you know, the man may or may not be alive. He’s been in there for some time.”

With a knife in hand and an understanding that the man needed to be moved, three of the attendants and Don walked over to the lavatory door. There was an immediate response from those setting near the door. Within several minutes all of them were last seen walking up the spiral staircase to the upstairs lounge.

“Good move,” said Don as he turned back to the door and assessed the locks and hinges before taking action to free the man within.

“It’ll take a few minutes, but I think I can get in. Please have two of you people go downstairs and prepare a place for this man to be placed. As I understand it, airlines have body bags available on planes if needed. Is this right?” asked Don as he took the knife and began to perform magic on the lock.

“Yes that’s right, but do you think we need to do that?” asked the supervisor as she frowned a weak frown thinking about what she had just said.

“Yes, you better prepare for the worst and pray for the best. But, in my opinion, the man’s dead,” admitted Don in a flat, dead tone that conveyed no feelings or sympathy.

“I tell you what, I’ve had experience moving dead people in my career. I guess you could surmise that if you watch any television at all. All of the crime series have the NSA agents carrying dead people around.” admitted Don as he stepped back enough to allow the door to swing completely open.

“Sir, I didn’t assume anything, but your help is appreciated. What can we do to help?” ask the supervisor as she moved to the other side of the open door.

“Okay, let’s see. How about telling that young man who wanted to be so helpful earlier over to help me lift the man off the floor and maneuver him to the elevator where we can take him downstairs? That’s what I need.” said Don as he smiles knowing that the young man was full of crap and would faint as soon as he sees the dead man’s face.

“Yes, we can do that.” replied the supervisor as she called for Ramon to come to assist the agent.

“Ramon, you need to help this kind man. Can you do that?” asked the supervisor as she assessed his willingness to help.

“What exactly do I need to do?” asked Ramon as he leaned sideways to look over to the agent who was already pulling on the man’s legs who was on the floor.

“I guess I can do that. Is the man dead? That’s what I want to know before I go over there and puke.” admitted Ramon as he leaned back toward his supervisor for her answer.

“Yes, the man is assumed dead. You’ll need to get in the lavatory, move behind the dead man’s head, and lift it as the agent lifts the front. Can you do that?” asked the supervisor as she detailed the chain of events that would need to occur to move the dead man from the lavatory to the compartment below deck.

“So, he’s dead? And you want me to leave the dead man’s head up and the agent lifts the rest of his body out through the door and into the cabin?” asked the young man to be sure he understood his part in this rescue of a dead man.

“Does he smell? I mean has he been gone long enough to decay, you know, rot?” asked the young man as he held back the contents of his stomach to prevent them from being spewed all over the floor of the first-class compartment.

“No, he doesn’t smell. Now listen if you can’t do this, just say you can't do it, and let’s get on with this.” ordered the supervisor as she turned to see how far Don was in the process of extracting the dead man’s body from the lavatory.

“No, no I can’t do this. I have a very weak stomach and I know I’ll puke everywhere. I’m sorry, I just can’t.” admitted the young man with all the answers.

“Well, bloody good. I guess I’ll have to handle it myself, me and one of the fellow lady attendants.” stated the supervisor as she turned away from the would-be star and walked over to inform Don of the situation and the volunteers he had to work with.

“Sir, we’re ready downstairs,” stated the attendant holding the elevator door open. 

“Good, let’s get this done and get back to our lives. The man isn’t here to say thanks, but I am. I appreciate those of you who knew your jobs. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to get this done.

The dead man’s head was lowered as if he were praying. If any other passengers saw any of the extraction, they could assume the man was sick. It wasn’t a big deal for Don having lived most of his life in the presence of death but the more sensitive, they wouldn’t handle it very well.

As the elevator door slid shut, Don and the supervisor sighed a heavy sigh in unison. Both were glad the ordeal was almost over, and both were glad to have had help.

“Now, let’s get this last task finished for the good of this man’s family. His family deserved the respect we’re showing him at this time. I’m sure my own family would appreciate someone taking care of my final moments.” said Don as he waited in the elevator to finish the short trip to the next deck down.

As the door slid open upon its arrival, the other helpers were busy unzipping the black heavy-duty plastic body bag for the remains to be placed inside. This was the first time for all of the flight attendants to have to manage a death on their flight. Hopefully, it would be their last time.

“We’re almost there.” announced the supervisor as she held her head up high and displayed the professionalism, she’d been trained to show from day one of her career. 

Her career with the company began a long time ago. She was forty-eight and ten years away from retiring. In all of her career, she’d faced many things, but nothing like the death of a passenger. It was personal for her. It was too personal.

“Now, one last thing. We’ll have to slide the body onto the open bag and close it up. As soon as you get back upstairs, inform the captain of the situation and ask if he wants anything else done for this man.” instructed Don as he moved away from the body that was now in its final position before the bag was to be zipped up.

“It’s better if I handle this part. I’ve had experience with this whereas none of you have. You don’t want this memory.” said Don as he motioned the attendants to leave the compartment and return to the first-class deck.

It was the truth. None of the women wanted the memory of zipping a dead body up in a storage bag in their minds. It was needed. It was part of the job, but none of them ever thought they’d be required to fulfill this end of their contract.

Without another word, the supervisor and the attendants stepped into the elevator, waiting for the door to close, and pressed the #2 on the panel. Within moments, the cubicle was gone leaving Don to finish up the task.

“Now, what exactly were you doing with all of that information bud?” asked Don as he flipped the flaps of the plastic bag over the body and grasped hold of the large zipper used to seal the body within.

“Whatever it was, no one will ever know. All I got is the bunch of folders in the attache that are connected to something somewhere with unknown people. One thing I do know is that this was your price for secrecy. I hope it was worth it. I do know this; I will find out the secret behind this mission you were unable to complete. I will find the answers.” admitted Don as he pulled the zipper completely up from the bottom encasing the body within.

It was done.