You can get a peek at how the interior of the plane looks from the profile image for this story. I do not in any way claim to own London Spy, and I make no money from this story. I just needed a better ending.
TapTap
There were two tables set between me and Alex, and on top of the one closest to me lay a file with my name on it. I reached out and grabbed it and, sitting up, settled in to read it. It wasn't long; simply a brief message, underneath my name.
"Mr Holt. We have accepted your proposal to take you and agent Alistair Turner away to an undisclosed location. You will remain there alone until such a time as we regard you both trustworthy enough to return, and are satisfied that all of his unallowed research is destroyed. We have contacted a former agent and personal friend of yours to make your excuses, the official story being that Mrs. Frances Turner caught you and her son eloping, and you are now both staying at a house owned by his family, in an attempt to mend bridges. Your purpose within our organisation will be to encourage mr Turner to work on with his several approved current projects. We will also expect complete discretion on all matters concerning the nation's security, should you return to civilisation. We will be in touch".
As I put the paper down, one of the screens in the plane flickered to life, revealing what looked like a recorded message. From Scotty. "Dear boy" it started "whatever have you gotten yourself into?" He shook his head. "Though perhaps it was not your fault. I have been advised on the bare minimun of the situation, and you will be allowed to call me as you do a stop for fuel".
Here he paused, then continuing "Alex is with you, of course - you were brave, but perhaps foolish, to get involved, my dear young boy, and I have gotten in touch with your roommates. Think about if there is anyone else. This is a dangerous situation, but as long as you both comply with the rules laid out, you ought to be reasonably safe. Do take care, and do nothing foolish this time, Danny, I mean it. It will be an eight hour flight to your stop; there will be a timer with you. I will hear from you soon, I hope".
Scotty looked concerned, but not outright worried, and he smiled tightly at me before the message flickered off, being replaced by one of Alex's favourite films. I guess they knew him pretty well, perhaps better than I did, even. No, I did not believe that.
Setting such thoughts aside, I looked around for the promised timer, which turned out to be part of a wall, showing one hour and fourteen minutes. I got up, slightly unsteady, and walked the barely two metres across to Alex, lying down beside him on the comfortable sofa, and closing my eyes. I laced our fingers together, and that was the last I knew before I went back asleep, lulled this time by the steady heartbeat of the love of my life, and not by any drugs.