The Sin Hunter: Double or Nothing

Boarding Patrol

The airport that morning had been packed a bit tighter than usual thanks to worsening weather and unsavory conditions. It seemed, from what Jack observed, that lots of people were simply looking for the easy way out. What he was more concerned with, however, was how the planes needed for said easy way would be able to function in this sickening storm. This time of year, Oklahoma was a mess of trips, traps and muddy roads. The rain had picked a sarcastically perfect time to arrive. Jack stood from his seat, marking the spot with his own suitcase and booting it to the seat, then sliding the key into his pocket. 

Leaving the suitcase in a seat that someone was bound to slide into was a risky move at an airport, but Jack took the precaution of cuffing the handle to the seat so tight, nobody could move it to get a good spot. Jack smirked, exhaling softly to himself while he strolled through the airport, occasionally brushing a hand along the long, glass walls to see out into the airstrip. Planes were coming in and going out in near rapid equilibrium. 'Looks like the flight crew are worried about the storm, too. Gotta get everyone out before the rain hits.' Jack kept walking down a flight of steps before entering the Men's bathroom. In here, Jack set a duffel bag on the floor of a bathroom stall.

Jack opened the bag, revealing plenty of magazines(both paper and metal), a travel brochure, some dirty boots and brown fingerless gloves, a bundled tight trench coat with jagged flaps around the face, and a wide brimmed, almost triangular fedora sat atop the whole pile. Jack grimaced, lifting the fedora out of the bag while he turned to face his camera mirror. Jack gently slid the brim down over his head, and almost immediately, the fedora had pulled a veil down over his face, cloaking everything in an inky black and leaving only Jack's eyes and mouth beneath the shadow. "Boy, I really look like on hell of a cartoon now," Jack chuckled, removing the fedora and setting it back in the bag.

"Now the question is," Jack pondered, zipping the duffel bag shut while he left the bathroom stall, "how do I possibly explain the magazines in my bag? The guards are gonna need to check, regardless of them being fakes. I'll have to tell them anyhow." Jack hike the duffel bag over his shoulder and across his chest while he exited the restroom, stepping back out into the hallway. It felt as if more people had crowded the hallways and the restaurants since he had left. Jack narrowly escaped back to his seat where, to not an ounce of Jack's surprise, someone was trying to undo the handcuffs linking the suitcase to his seat. But when Jack approached, coughing abruptly, the teenager, with headphones blocking their ears and large, bulky sunglasses, hurriedly left the seat alone.

Jack removed the key from his pocket, undoing the cuffs and taking his seat next to an elderly gentleman with a magazine and a small box beside the chair leg. "That was a smart move, that," the old man chuckled, to which Jack turned, smiling. "Ah, it's the airport. To be perfectly insensitive, you gotta claim a seat and hold on tight like nothing else." The old man smiled warmly, closing his eyes while he sucked in a slow, deep breath. "Ah, I know what you mean, sonny. When I was in my prime, my youth, like you are now, I had a wife. Most beautiful ray of sunshine in the whole world." Jack nodded, crossing his hands while he bit the bottom of his lip. 

"I know a little bit like that. My...my wife, she..." Jack paused, struggling to find an explanation and bring himself to deliver that explanation, "she passed away a few days ago. I wasn't there for the funeral. Out on a business trip." The old man put a wrinkled old hand on Jack's shoulder, shaking his head of iron-gray hair. "I'm sorry to hear that. Are you feeling well after hearing the news?" Jack shook his head, knotting his fingers over and over. "It wasn't pleasant to hear, sure. But I'm visiting her folks and my family up North. Good people. They know the value of a loved one when they feel it." The old man laughed softly, sighing while he rested against the back of the navy blue chair. Outside the airport, the windows reflected a large steel plane rolling to a stop beside a tunnel.

"Well, son, I hope that wherever you're going next, I wish you the very best of luck. I know my sweet Maria would want you to keep going, not mope where you're at." Jack pursed his lips, feeling the corners curling into a smile. A painful smile, but a gracious one. Jack turned, raising his hand to shake with the old man. "The name's Jack." "Paul," the old man replied. And as the airport called for Flight 372, and Jack left his seat, Paul gave the detective a good pat on the shoulder, and the two thanked one another for the company. And never again did the two speak, although their presence and their message gave one another companionship in the darkening clouds on the horizon.

While Jack boarded the plane, handing in his ticket to the counter and slowly entering the tunnel, a woman across the tunnel gently slipped forward, entering the tunnel after the detective. While she walked, she pulled a violet phone case from her pocket. The phone itself was studded with gold and purple gemstones. On the screen, a message popped up that read, "The detective has boarded his flight. Get after him. Don't let him find that nosy lawyer girl." The woman stuck her phone back into her purse while she handed in a replica ticket to the counter, entering the tunnel about thirty people behind the detective. Shades of gold and tinted pink flashed in the light above the ramp.