‘Can I sit beside the window again?’ Jimmy tugged at her elbow. ‘Can I, Steph?’
‘As long as you promise not to open it in mid-flight.’
He gave her a suspicious look then grinned. ‘Would I get sucked out into space if I did?’
‘Yup. You’d be the boy in the moon.’ She waved him onward. They’d picked up speed and were almost at the point where they’d have to load their bags and the contents of their pockets into a plastic tray to pass through the X-ray scanner. Stephanie caught sight of a large Perspex enclosure beyond the metal detector and pursed her lips. ‘Remember what I told you, Jimmy,’ she said firmly. ‘You know I’ll set off the alarms and then I’ll have to stay inside that clear box until somebody checks me over. You’re not allowed in with me.’
He pouted. ‘Why not?’
‘It’s the rules. Don’t worry,’ she added, seeing the troubled look in his eyes. ‘Nothing bad’s going to happen to me. You wait by the luggage belt, OK? Don’t go anywhere, just wait till I come out on the other side. Do you understand?’
Now he was avoiding her eye. Maybe he felt she was talking down to him. It was so hard to pitch things at the right level. ‘I’ll guard the bags,’ he said. ‘So nobody can steal them.’
‘Great.’
The man ahead of them in the queue shrugged out of his suit jacket and folded it into a tray. Off with his shoes, then his belt. He opened his laptop bag and removed the computer, laying it in a second tray. He nodded towards them, indicating he was done. ‘No dignity in travel these days,’ he said with a grim smile.
‘You ready, Jimmy?’ Stephanie stepped forward and grab bed a plastic tray. ‘That’s an important job you’ve got, the guarding bit.’ She loaded their stuff, checked Jimmy’s pockets then shooed him through the metal detector ahead of her. He turned to watch as the machine beeped, the red lights lit up and the beefy Transport Security Agency operative indicated the Perspex pen.
‘Female officer,’ he called out, chins and belly wobbling. ‘Wait inside the box, ma’am.’ He pointed to the enclosure, a couple of metres long by a metre wide. The outlines of two feet were painted on the floor. A plastic chair sat against one wall. A wooden plinth contained a hand-held metal detector. Jimmy’s eyes widened as Stephanie walked in. She waved him towards the conveyor belt where their possessions were slowly emerging from the scanner.
‘Wait for me,’ she mouthed, giving him a thumbs-up.
Jimmy turned away and moved to the end of the conveyor belt, staking out their plastic trays. Stephanie looked around impatiently. There were three or four female TSA officers in sight, but none of them seemed eager to deal with her. Thank goodness she and Jimmy weren’t rushing to make a connection. Knowing what US transfers were like these days, she’d deliberately left plenty of time between their flights.
She looked back at Jimmy. One of the TSA agents appeared to be talking to him. A tall man in black uniform trousers and blue shirt. But something was off-kilter. Stephanie frowned. He was wearing a cap, that was what it was. None of the other TSA people wore anything on their heads. As she watched, the man reached for Jimmy’s hand.
For a split second, Stephanie couldn’t believe what she was seeing. The man was leading a compliant Jimmy away from the security area towards the concourse where dozens of people were milling back and forth. Not a backward glance from either of them.
‘Jimmy,’ she shouted. ‘Jimmy, come back here.’ Her voice rose in pitch, but it was deadened by the Perspex enclosure. Neither the man nor the child broke step. Worried now, Stephanie banged on the side of the box, gesturing towards the concourse. ‘My kid,’ she shouted. ‘Somebody’s taken my kid.’
Her words seemed to have no impact but her actions did. Two agents moved towards the box, not towards Jimmy. They were oblivious to what was happening behind them. Frantic, Stephanie thrust aside the voice in her head telling her she was crazy and made a run for it.
She’d barely made it out of the Perspex box when one of the agents grabbed her arm, saying something that didn’t register. His grip slowed her but it didn’t stop her. The prospect of losing Jimmy pushed her over her normal limits. The officer snatched at her with his other hand and without thinking, Stephanie whirled round and smashed her fist into his face. ‘They’re kidnapping my kid,’ she yelled.
Blood flowed from the guard’s nose, but he held on tight. Now Stephanie could only see the man’s hat. Jimmy was lost in the crowd. Panic gave her strength and she dragged the guard behind her. Dimly, she was aware of other officers drawing weapons and shouting at her, but her focus was total. ‘Jimmy,’ she screamed.
By now, another guard had grabbed her waist, trying to wrestle her to the ground. ‘Get down on the floor,’ he yelled. ‘On the floor, now.’ She kicked out, raking her heel down his shin.
The raised voices blurred into a meaningless noise as a third TSA officer joined battle, throwing himself on her back. Stephanie felt her knees buckle as she crumpled to the floor. ‘My boy,’ she mumbled, reaching for the pocket where she’d put their boarding passes. Suddenly the bodies restraining her melted away and she was free. Confused but relieved they were finally paying attention, Stephanie pushed herself one-handed to her knees.
That was when they tasered her.
2
Everything happened at once. Excruciating agony flashed along nerves, dancing synapses sending devastating messages to muscles. Stephanie’s collapse was instantaneous, a complete system failure, like the flick of a switch. Her mind raced in confusion, unable to make sense of the pain and the total loss of physical control. The one impulse that remained was the need to communicate what had happened.
She was convinced she was shouting Jimmy’s name, even as she hit the ground hard. But what she heard was a meaningless mangle of sound, the kind of dream-mumble people made when they were having a nightmare.
As suddenly as the pain had hit, it disappeared. Stephanie raised her head, bewildered. She paid no attention to the ring of Transport Security Administration officers surrounding her at a cautious distance. She was oblivious to the rubber - necking passengers, their exclamations or their camera phones. She strained to see Jimmy and caught a glimpse of his bright red Arsenal shirt next to the black and blue of a TSA uniform. They were turning off the main concourse, disappearing from sight. Ignoring the residual ache in her muscles, Stephanie pushed herself upright and launched herself in the crucial direction, a primal roar emerging from her throat.
She didn’t even complete the first stride. This time, the taser blast was longer, the disarticulation more thorough. This time, once the initial disabling effect was over, she remained disorientated and weak. Two officers hauled her to her feet and dragged her down the concourse in the direction opposite to where she’d last seen Jimmy. With the last of her energy, Stephanie tried to struggle free.
‘Give it up,’ one of the officers restraining her yelled.
‘Cuff her,’ a second, more authoritative voice said.
Stephanie felt her arms yanked behind her and the cold bracelet of metal handcuffs closed round each wrist. Now they were moving more quickly, hustling her down a side hallway and through a door. They dropped her on a plastic chair, her arms uncomfortably pulled over its back. Her head felt like the gears were slipping their cogs. She couldn’t get a grip on her thoughts.