Chapter
Nine – Arrival
Milano Linate airport was old, it had existed pre-war and in the fifties and sixties had been enlarged to cope with the air traffic of those days. However the site was cramped and although it could accept large jets there was limited room for servicing many of them and limited administration space. So the larger Malpensa airport to the west of Milan and further from the city centre had taken the status of the main North Italy international terminal. Linate was these days used mostly for domestic flights. However the march of time and the increase in air travel had caught up even at Malpensa and that airport was undergoing a major expansion with the construction of a second terminal. During this work a number of international flights were routinely diverted to the older, smaller Linate and so it was pure chance that brought Shizuku to this place tonight and from where, on her onward journey something peculiar would happen that even today, years later, she cannot explain.
The large room was filled with passengers. There was marble flooring and walls with concrete pillars at intervals. A hard, cold place. Somewhere designed not to be attractive, a place designed so you wouldn't want to linger. Several slow moving queues snaked across the room toward a row of desks in glass booths along one wall. Exits to an adjoining room were behind the row of booths. Signs above the desks read "Controllo Passaporti." The people in the queues for passport control looked for the most part to be at the limit of their endurance. Tired and fed up, it was a queue of zombies.
Seiji and Shizuku stood side by side. In close up their faces showed no emotion. Seiji looked slowly to his left then a moment later back in front of him again. The couple had a luggage trolley with them, their hand luggage on it. They both looked shattered, ready for sleep. Then the upper half of a blue suitcase slide past in front of them. After a gap of a few seconds a big black hold-all slid by, then a red suitcase. There was no reaction on the couple's faces. Seiji turned his head left again. Two men in suits walked behind them in the background. They both pulled weekend bags on wheels. More luggage slid past on the conveyor. Other passengers, equally animated, waited to either side. A sign hung from the ceiling. In several languages it showed "Ritiro Bagagli" or "Baggage Reclaim." Seiji and Shizuku were experiencing one of the true great highlights of air travel. The fun of having other people crowd in and push you. Seeing others gleefully get their bags first and get to the front of the taxi queue. Of that special feeling of worrying about whether your luggage is now on its way back to Tokyo. Modern air travel has improved considerably but clearly baggage reclaim is such a renowned feature of the experience that airports around the world retain it, probably out of pure nostalgia for good times now past.
The man in the cheap dark suit with greasy hair and a thin moustache held the card sign almost secretively. Perhaps he didn't want his passengers to see it. That way he could wait a while, convince himself they'd missed him and go home to watch the football. The piece of cardboard had AMASAWA printed on it by hand in black marker pen. He held back toward the rear of the group of other taxi drivers. When he wasn't driving a taxi he looked like he might be a used car salesman. Or a mafia debt collector. Seiji came through the crowd pushing the trolley, the girl holding onto him. There is something surprising about the human brain. It can respond to and recognize certain things very easily, rapidly. A familiar face in a crowd for example, hearing your own name spoken quietly some way away, and in this case catching the smallest glimpse of your own name written down. Seiji saw the letters "AMA" on the piece of card at the back of the group of drivers. The mafia debt collector had been found out, now he'd miss the football. Seiji went toward him, he encouraged Shizuku,
"Here's our driver, c'mon, let's go."