Hostage - Clare Mackintosh Page 0,125

by proxy, Sophia—I don’t think I know him any better now than I did three years ago. I’m not sure if it’s Rowan who’s kept his distance, or me: either way, we’re guarded with each other, as though we’re adversaries, not friends.

There are more handshakes and claps on the back, and Rowan gives Mina a hug. His hand rests lightly on the small of her back after he releases her, and I have to fight the urge to put a proprietorial arm around her. It would be easier if Rowan were unlikeable. If he were arrogant or bigoted or annoyingly smarmy. But he’s none of those things, and I don’t need a therapist to tell me that my watchfulness is borne not from Rowan’s actions but from my own inadequacies. Rowan was there when I wasn’t. While I was cuffed to a pipe in the cellar, relying on my five-year-old daughter to save me, he was storming the flight deck with my wife. In the immediate aftermath, I supported Mina through a video screen; he took her for dinner in their Sydney hotel, held her hand when she cried on the flight home.

Mina was upfront about the time they’d spent together. “I don’t know what I would have done without him. And Derek and Cesca,” she said, but the addition was for my benefit, and we both knew it.

“I’m glad they were there for you,” I said. And I meant it.

“Good luck back at work,” Cesca says to Mina now, kissing her on the cheek. Dindar was good to Mina after the hijack. She was off work on full pay for six months, spending time with Sophia, before taking an admin role, away from the airport. It fit well with school pick-ups—neither of us was ready to use a babysitter again—but I knew she missed flying.

“I think I want to go back,” she’d said. “After the trial.”

“Then go back.”

She smiled. Said I reminded her of her dad. “I’m a bit scared, of course.” She still had nightmares about Missouri and the others. “But you can’t let them win, can you?”

“How about fish and chips when we get home?” I say now once Rowan has turned the corner and it’s just the three of us again.

Sophia’s eyes light up. “Yay! As long as it’s—”

“—sustainably caught, I know.” She is wise far beyond her years, my daughter, and the last three years have made her wiser. We fight it to a certain extent—we encourage her to play, to be silly, to be a child—but I’m proud of our clever, passionate, perceptive girl.

I hail a cab, thinking of that day walking home from school, when she wouldn’t hold my hand, when she wanted Becca, not me. I think of how much it hurt and how far we’ve come since then. How much closer I am now to Sophia. I wouldn’t wish what happened on my oldest enemy, but as silver linings go, it’s a good one.

“Love you,” I say, more fiercely than I’d planned. The taxi pulls up, and I open the door, letting the girls in before I follow.

“Love you too.” Mina squeezes my hand.

Between us, Sophia sighs happily. “Love you three.”

FIFTY-TWO

PASSENGER 1G

A life sentence. I confess I hadn’t expected that. Standard for terrorism, yes, but is it terrorism to protect the Earth? Is it terrorism to open people’s eyes to the devastation their actions are wreaking upon the world?

The courts say it is.

They see no difference between our cause and religious mania, between saving the planet and destroying it. They are blind to the truth that is so clear to those of us who care about the future we’re leaving for our children.

It will be forty years before parole is even a possibility. Who knows if I’ll even be here to see it? Forty years behind bars, no contact with the outside world. It’s barbaric. Inhumane. Surely death would be preferable?

In that respect, Missouri won. She escaped. Beat the system by dying.

You didn’t think it was Missouri’s plan, did you? That it was Missouri in charge of the complexities required to pull off a project of such magnitude, such significance?

I wouldn’t blame you if you thought that. After all, she did. She saw herself far more as a leader than as a follower, and it was easy to plant the seeds and let her nurture them. Missouri saw herself as the shepherd, when all the time, she was simply another of my sheep. Should anything go wrong, it ensured that all

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