While
Delta was out of Oscar's sight (she'd gone to the bathroom), two men
introduced themselves to him as airport security and asked him to
please come with them. As he followed them back past the restaurants
and duty-free shops to security, he struggled to place the accent of
the man who had spoken. This wasn't his forte but he didn't think it
was a German accent. As the man who had spoken turned to open the
door to a small office, Oscar spotted a black feather embroidered on
his blue shirt. The same symbol was on his hat, and on the uniform of
his colleague. Oscar made an effort to hide a small gasp, then
entered the room and sat at the seat indicated to him.
The
room was simple, with a single desk, two chairs on one side and one
on the other, a small window offering a little light but no view to
speak of, and a pot plant in the corner. The two men sat next to each
other opposite the desk from Oscar.
“We
have reason to believe,” started the man who hadn't spoken yet, in
what was unmistakably a sing-songy, Swansea accent, “that you are
travelling with a known terror suspect. She was last spotted at
border control and we know she was working with an agency in Austria.
Please tell us all that you know about the organisation that calls
itself Friarr and the operation it was undertaking in Salzburg.”
For
a moment Oscar was speechless. Terror suspect? He'd just
thought Delta was a sweet girl who'd had a sheltered upbringing, and
that she had decided to be fully inducted in the religious order her
parents were part of. He realised now that he'd actually believed the
story she'd told him, to the point where he felt like he should be
defending her now.
“Uh,”
he said nervously. “I'm not really sure what you're talking about.”
“Oh,
come on, we've seen you together. You had lunch together, you haven't
been out of each other's sight all day. We've only just been able to
get you on your own!” It was hard to take the man seriously with an
outburst like this.
“Gethin!”
his colleague chided through gritted teeth.
“But
Huw,” Gethin whispered in reply, “it's true. I'm sure he knows
something and can help us get the girl.” The two men whispered a
few more words to each other while Oscar wiped his brow and thought
desperately about what he should say. Should he trust them and tell
them everything Delta had said, or should he believe Delta and keep
his mouth shut in order to protect her?
The
two guards stopped muttering to each other and turned back to face
Oscar.
“How
do you know the woman you have been travelling with today?” Huw
asked. “How did you meet?”
“I'm
travelling alone,” Oscar answered truthfully.
“I'll
rephrase my question. How did you meet the woman you had lunch with
today?”
“We
met in the airport,” Oscar answered, sufficiently truthfully and
sufficiently vaguely.
“Were
you on the coach with her when it crossed the German border?” Huw
asked.
“I
did travel to Germany by coach today.” Oscar had resolved to lie as
little as possible without giving anything away.
Huw
took a deep breath. Gethin looked as though he were about to say
something but Huw stopped him.
“Is
the woman you had lunch with today also travelling alone?” Huw
asked.
“Yes.”
“Did
she tell you why she was in Austria this week?”
Oscar
thought carefully about how to answer this question. He could simply
answer 'yes', thus answering truthfully but frustrating his
interrogators. Or he could give some indication of what she had said
she was doing in a way that would put them off the scent. The longer
he left it, the more suspicious they would become, so he would have
to think of something quickly.
“She
did. I think she said she was visiting a family friend.” He thought
that would be the safest option.
Huw
tried a different tack. “What do you now about Friarr?”
Oscar
frowned and shook his head.
“What
is your favourite colour?” Gethin chimed in.
Oscar
blinked at him, then responded, “What's that got to do with
anything?”
“Just
answer the question!” Gethin tried to sound menacing but his
high-pitched voice didn't lend itself well to that.
“I
don't really have a favourite colour,” Oscar said. He had not
thought about questions like that since childhood. And then it had
probably changed every other week, depending on who his friends were
or which football team was winning the league, or which colour wasn't
in his hideous school uniform.
“Look,
Mr...” Huw looked at Oscar enquiringly.
“Thornton.”
Oscar now wondered whether they shouldn't have asked him that at the
beginning.
“Mr
Thornton, we're going to need you to tell us what you know about
Friarr and what you know about the woman you were with today.”
Oscar
paused for a moment, then said, “We are both travelling alone. The
coach to transfer us from Salzburg to Munich was full and we ended up
sitting next to one another. I told her I was here on business. She
told me she was visiting a family friend. After that we talked about
the weather.” Although he couldn't remember it now, he was sure the
weather must have come at some point in their conversation – what
self-respecting Englishman wouldn't mention the weather at some point
early on in any conversation? “If that doesn't sufficiently answer
your question, I don't know what will. I don't know anything much
more than the fact she is on the same flight as me today.”
The
two guards took a moment to compute what Oscar had said. He thought
they were considering whether he really didn't know anything or
whether he was hiding something. He sensed they believed he might be
part of Friarr and part of whatever Delta had been doing with them in
Salzburg. Telling them the little he knew might put him in danger. He
hoped what he'd said was enough to spare him his life and let him get
home. He glanced at his watch. It was half part three. The flight
would be boarding soon. He didn't want to miss another flight.
“Please
excuse us for a moment,” Huw said at last. He and Gethin got up and
left the room, closing the door behind them. Oscar got up and
followed them to the door, tried to open it and found it to be
locked. They've locked me in! They've actually locked me
in! He tried the door again, just to make sure he wasn't
panicking unnecessarily. Then he crossed the room to the window. It
didn't have a handle. And it was frosted, so no-one outside would be
able to see him. He put his hands in his pockets and turned his back
to the window, facing the door. He wasn't sure what to do next.
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