to watch as a skydiver flew in.
‘Looks easy from the ground,’ said Johnny. ‘Doing it at a hundred and twenty mph is a little more difficult.’
He quickly pulled off his biking overalls. Underneath he was wearing some kind of boiler suit, albeit one that looked a lot more cool than something you’d wear to fix your car. It was black and red, with slim silver pads stitched at elbow and knee, stretching up and down the outside of each arm and leg. Johnny turned to a bag strapped on the back of his bike, and pulled out a black helmet, visor down, and what looked like an enormous watch.
‘I checked out your MySpace page,’ said Ethan. ‘It was awesome.’
Now there was a word he never used, and it sat in his mouth like a sour gobstopper.
Johnny grinned. ‘Of course it was – it’s about me! Here to have a go yourself?’
Ethan shook his head, amazed at Johnny’s impressive self-confidence. ‘I’d love to, but I’m here about the job,’ he said. ‘You know where Sam is?’
‘Through that door,’ said Johnny, pointing at a flat-roofed building attached to the side of the old hangar. ‘Just follow the signs for the office. You’ll find it easily enough.’
‘Cheers,’ said Ethan, and made to walk away, but Johnny called after him. He turned to see Johnny pointing upwards as a skydiver howled past, terrifyingly close to the ground.
‘It’s only a matter of time, you know,’ Johnny said.
Ethan watched the skydiver land almost silently, then looked back at Johnny, who grinned.
‘Life’s too short not to,’ he told Ethan.
Following Johnny’s instructions, Ethan headed for the door. It slid open across a worn carpet with a half-moon scratched into it. The room was basic and a little shabby, Ethan thought as he stepped inside, but it was unbelievably well ordered. A pair of filing cabinets stood against one wall, a well-stocked bookcase against another. A TV was fixed to one wall, streaming Sky News. The other walls were covered with skydiving pictures and photographs rather than wallpaper. Some of them were military: soldiers in places Ethan had only ever seen on posters in the windows of adventure travel shops.
But Ethan only noticed these details later, because in front of him, sitting at a large, organized desk, was one of the most imposing men he had ever seen. His hair was shaved close to his head – slightly longer on top – and his sleeves were rolled up, revealing tattoos. His shoulders were broad, his face hard and stern. Small scars criss-crossed the skin around his left eye; a bigger one extended under his right ear and part way across his throat.
So this must be Sam, thought Ethan. Holy shit.
The man saw him, stood up and reached out with his right hand. Ethan took it and found it was like being held by a vice lined with sandpaper; the skin was rough and calloused, the grip ferociously strong.
‘I’m Ethan Blake,’ said Ethan. ‘I’m here about—’
‘The job?’ said the man. ‘Yes. Sit.’
Ethan sat on the only other chair in the room.
‘CV?’
Ethan handed it over.
‘Experience?’
Ethan remembered what the career adviser at school had said – something about using buzz words, key phrases that employers pick up on, that make you stand out above the rest.
‘I’ve got my food hygiene certificate,’ he said, trying to sound confident. ‘And I’ve worked in a number of high street retailers. Lots of customer-facing work. I was promoted to—’
The man cut in: ‘Why aren’t you working there now?’
Ethan spluttered an answer – something about needing a change, wanting to do something different. It wasn’t the whole truth, just some of it. He didn’t think now was the time to admit that the jobs had bored him to tears.
The man was silent for a moment and Ethan realized he still hadn’t introduced himself. Perhaps it wasn’t Sam? It could be anyone. Who was he talking to?
‘Why do you want this job?’
Ethan was silent for a moment, thinking.
‘This is a skydiving centre,’ the man went on. ‘People only come here if they’ve got a sense of purpose, even if that purpose is simply to jump. I don’t do layabouts or slackers. You want to waste your time, then you leave right now. So, do you have a purpose, Ethan? Well?’
For a few seconds Ethan didn’t know what to say. Then a picture of his dad lying passed out on the sofa flashed into his mind – along with a reason for being there. It made total sense. ‘I