Jackson spent an hour driving down the interstate towards Dallas International, letting the neighborhoods he knew fade behind him into the rear-view mirror. He was truly lucky he didn't fall asleep behind the wheel, as tired as he was. That wouldn't have been helpful towards '29847' and his life wouldn't exactly benefit from a car crash either.
If it isn't 29847's life, it will be your own.
He arrived at Dallas International at exactly 8:13am, carrying nothing but the same computer bag, the ever-so-important tracking devices and his wallet, which he always kept with him anyway, just like his cell phone. To Jackson's surprise, there was no line to buy plane tickets and that shocked him. Dallas International always had lines every time he'd been there, but yet again, he'd never been there at 8:13, now 8:14, in the morning. He walked up to the sales clerk for Fresh Air Airlines, who was busily organizing paperwork, plane stubs, and the like, as she looked up at Jackson.
"Hello sir, how can I help you this morning?" she asked in the most charming voice and smiled.
Jackson always wondered how people could be so perky first thing in the morning, especially with a job like hers.
"Hi, I was interested in buying a single to Baltimore, Maryland. BWI, preferably," Jackson said, trying to return the pleasant attitude.
"Okay," she said pausing and looking towards her computer. "Let me check for you."
There was a moment of silence between the two of them, as the sales clerk typed away on her computer and Jackson began gazing around the airport lobby. He noticed a majority of the people were businessmen and women. That was good for Jackson's case because he planned to sleep on the plane and the last thing he wanted was a whiney little kid sitting by him. But, by the way Jackson's luck was going this morning, it was bound to happen anyway.
"Okay, sir," the woman interrupted, as Jackson turned his focus back to her. "The following times are available to Baltimore. 9:15am, 12:45pm, 3 o'clock, 6:30pm, and 9 o'clock."
Jackson looked at his watch. 8:17.
"Would I be able to make it through security to catch the 9:15 flight?"
"If all you're planning on bringing with you is that computer bag, I would imagine so. The security checkpoints get slowed down when people have a lot of bags with them. But, I can't guarantee you won't run into a few people like that while you're waiting in line. It might be a risk to take 9:15."
Jackson thought for a moment. He figured he'd take the 9:15 flight anyway. He didn't have time to sit in the airport for another 3 and a half hours for the 12:45 flight. If he got held up in the security line, he figured he'd charm his way in front of a few people. That could always work.
"I believe I'll take the 9:15 flight. I can't stay until 12:45. That's too late for me, thanks," Jackson replied.
"Okay, sir. For roundtrip, nonstop tickets to Baltimore, your total comes to $443.26."
"Christ! Why so much money?"
"The world we live in nowadays, I fear. Airline prices are quite crazy. But, I guarantee you none of the other airlines are any better for prices."
"Well, I'll trust your word."
Reluctantly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his money. Jackson called it 'dirty money', considering he got it from payoffs of other successful assassinations. He handed her four hundreds and a fifty, as the woman had a shocked look on her face.
"Is something wrong?" Jackson sarcastically questioned her.
"No, no," she said, taking the money from his hand. "It's just, very rarely do people pay for tickets in cash."
"I see. Well, I guess I'm one of the rarities, then, eh?"
The woman just smiled, as she ripped the printout of his ticket and got him change.
"Here's your ticket and $1.74 is your change. Your flight number is 1468. Your departure gate is 14B. Once you go through the security gate to your left, walk all the way down the long, open hallway. There are over-hangings with terminal numbers. 14B is all the way down at the end on your right."
"Thank you," Jackson paused to look at her name tag. "Kelly."
"Thank you for flying with us, sir," she responded, as Jackson quickly walked off to the security check.
His feet pounded hardly on the hard tile floor, as he briskly walked to get a good spot in the checkpoint line. Once he arrived, there were 8 people in front of him. Jackson gave each of them a look over and decided it would be no time at all, considering they all had carry-on bags like he did and none seemed to have a lot of bags, like Kelly had warned him about. Jackson stood with his arms crossed and his feet pointed straight ahead. He looked like a statue almost, as for the time being, he showed no emotion. He just watched as the young security guards scanned everyone's things and feasted their eyes on everyone's personal business. It really annoyed him. If it wasn't for today's age, he wouldn't be standing in line right now, frantically looking at his watch to make sure he caught his flight on time. But, he had no power or control over what went on.
"Thank you, Mr. Keefe," Jackson sarcastically thought in his mind.
The line continued to move up at a fairly decent pace and at 8:59, Jackson finally got his turn. He placed his computer bag, wallet, cell phone, and watch on the scanner and watched them disappear into the metal machine. Jackson stepped through the metal detector. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot.
Beep beep beep beep beep.
"Please step back, sir. Arms above your head," the security guard said.
Jackson did as told and raised his arms above his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the paddle mimicked every curve of his body.
Beep beep beep.
The paddle had stopped at his left pocket.
"Shit! The tracking devices," Jackson frantically thought.
The security guard stared at Jackson waiting for an explanation.
"I have a metal hip," he lied. "I went into war when I was 18 and had to have my hip operated on when I got injured. They couldn't fix it, so, I had to have it replaced."
"Do you have any paperwork documenting this, sir?"
"No, not on me, no. I was just trying to catch the 9:15 flight to Baltimore to visit with family," he lied some more.
What is up with you, Jackson? Where'd you learn to lie like this?The security guard patted Jackson's left side but stopped, when he heard the crinkle of plastic in his pocket.
Shit, shit, shit.
"Would you mind showing me what's in your pocket?" he sarcastically asked Jackson.
The airport intercom came on.
"Flight 1468 at terminal 14B is now boarding."
"Sure," Jackson replied, on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
He pulled the bag out of his pocket and showed it to the security guard. Jackson certainly knew what it was. But to the security guard, it looked like an empty plastic bag full of air.
"I'm very spiritual, you see. I almost lost my life at war and when my mother passed away, I was right at her bedside. I captured her last breath in this bag and I take it wherever I go."
"I'm very sorry, sir," the security guard replied, scanning his left hip again.
Beep beep beep.
Jackson, in his mind, didn't know what was going on. The tracking devices were out of his pocket so, why was the scanner still going off? He kept thinking and thinking. Why? Bingo. One must have fallen out of the bag when he was running to the line.
"Come ON!" one older woman complained, shouting it at the security guard.
"Yeah! HURRY UP, WILL YA?" another shouted.
The intercom came on once again.
"Last call for flight 1468 at terminal 14B. Fresh Air. Last call."
"Okay, sir. I'll let you pass this time. Just next time, make sure you have paperwork with you for proof. It will avoid any further complications."
"I certainly will. Thank you," he said very quickly.
Jackson frantically grabbed his things from the scanner. He put his watch back on and put the tracking devices, his cell phone, and his wallet back in his pockets. Casually, he slipped the strap of the computer bag back on his shoulder to avoid anymore suspiciousness of his character. He glanced at his watch.
9:14.
He ran down the long hallway passing each terminal sign with the blink of an eye.
8A. 8B. 10A. 10B.
The seconds were ticking down for Jackson Rippner. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, the million dollar question now, wasn't how he was going to kill Charles Keefe, but, would he make his flight?