The Surrogate

Giving Chase

Saturday September 18th. Germany.

"Holly anrufen!" Seb shouts aggressively, his phone is hooked up to the car via Bluetooth and he's desperately trying to call Holly as he drives to Frankfurt airport. He's flying along a section of Germany's famous autobahn, the Ferrari permanently in the fast lane and overtaking everything in its path, he not got time to sit behind any traffic today. Her cheery voice comes over the speakers again, his call going straight to voicemail once more - the same as it's done for the past half an hour.

Earlier on he had a glimmer of hope, he found her credit card on the bedroom floor and he's been online to search for flights to Heathrow, there's a flight due to leave in ninety minutes time but check in closes in just under thirty. He's pinning his hopes on her being booked on this flight; there was an earlier one at six AM, nearly two hours ago and it's possible that she's got on to that one but he's hoping and praying that she's booked to go on this next one and that he can stop her from leaving.

".......you can leave me a message after the beep and I'll try to get back to you as soon as I can. Byeeeee!" Her voicemail greeting ends and he decides to leave her yet another message.

"Holly I'm begging you, if you're still at the airport please don't board that flight! We can talk about this, we can sort it out! I know this is all my fault, let me try to put it right, please don't let this be the end of things. Just one more chance Holly, please! I'm nearly at the airport, please just wait for me!" He hits a button on the steering wheel to end the call and bites his thumbnail as his anxiety sky rockets. She can't be gone, she just can't be.

Within fifteen minutes he's carelessly parking the black Pista outside the departure terminal. He leaps out of the car, his phone in his pocket, flinging a hand out behind him to press on the key fob and lock it as he runs towards the automatic doors. He's only just aware of a man's annoyed voice complaining that he can't just dump his car there and leave it but he ignores him. He doesn't care if he gets a parking ticket, getting to Holly and convincing her to stay is far more important than a menial fine.

Dashing inside, he's faced with the live timing board and he scans it for the flight he thinks and hopes that he'll be able to stop her from boarding. He finds it, everything looks to be running on time, check is still open. Then he's darts further in, looking for the check in desk used by British Airways, he's also scanning every face in a desperate search for her.

He soon gets to where he needs to be, a line of about ten check in desks and the remnants of the queue in the last couple of metres of the taped off, snaking queuing system. He can't see her and his heart sinks but he still calls her name, just in case, "Holly! Holly!"

Around eight anonymous faces turn to stare at the man who's frantically yelling out a woman's name. In a panic he runs round, bypassing the outside edge of the queue and up to a desk on the far right side, collaring the first person he sees, "can you tell me if someone's checked in for this flight? I'm looking for a Holly Brooks, has she checked in, is she on this flight?"

The woman shakes her head, "I'm sorry but I can't divulge names of passengers for security reasons."

"Come on, please, this is urgent!" He pleads with her but she's not going to budge.

"I'm sorry sir but I can't,"

He spins round, checking and re-checking every face he can see in the remote hope that she's around here somewhere but there's no sign of her. He tries once more, "please, it's really important that I speak to her, she can't board this flight, can't you just tell me if she's checked in or not?"

"Sorry sir," the woman gives him a polite but tight lipped smile. There's no way she's going to just hand over who is and isn't on this flight, whether he's a famous F1 driver or not.