Kamikaze Jumbo Jet

1. Time for check in

“The role of Tableau today is to disrupt all nations, at all cost.”
—Dr. Ismail Adir Margulis, Founder of Tableau

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It’s always busy at Café o Campo, filled with the busy life ready to grab their cup of roasted energy. The same is most definitely true at the Campo Flight at Heathrow Airport. On this gloomy morning before the sunrise where a soft hue of blue light hangs over the airport floor, Peter Bitter, an RDIA officer is seated with his coffee. Peter has had more time in operation than most of his peers, and understands that the nerves he’s feeling are part of the job. There are only a few ways in which today’s mission could go wrong. Waiting too long to pull the trigger being the one that made him a little itchier than usual. It was in fact, a mission on a fully booked Airbus A380. Not a jumbo jet. No. A superjumbo. 

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This was definitely what made him itchier than usual. Two targets landed on his desk one month and 4 days ago to be exact. Two targets, expected to be affiliated with the Tableau, amongst 525 civilians. God forbid. A terrorist attack on a commercial airline would be devastating. There is no way the RDIA can let that happen, Peter knows this. He takes a moment to think of his wife, his son, his daughter and he visualizes arriving back home. The nervousness fades away, and with a moment of deep breaths, he can feel his battle shakes turning into a stone-cold focus. Peter notices a slight darkening over the foam of his coffee - a shadow approaching. 

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“You gon’ eat that?” 

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Only Gloria can be hungry before a mission. There she is, Gloria Ramone, truly a top-class RDIA officer. Peter feels a rush of confidence flow through his body now that she has arrived at the Campo Flight. She is quite fresh to the game. The terrorist hunting game that is. But damn is she good. With only four deployments of HUMINT operations she has already convinced the director enough to put her on hunting Tableau members. 

“Hey, your cruffin, are you -”

“No, no, you can have it.” 

Peter knew she was nervous too, she must be. Everyone knows what’s on the line today. 

But if you can cope with it through eating, so be it. Bon appétit!

“How is your feeling about today Gloria?” 

“Relax Peter…” 

That was Gloria. No talk about the mission until game time. Easier said than done Peter thought. Tomorrow is never promised - as an RDIA officer they know this. But tomorrow can be worse if today is not carried out thoroughly. As an RDIA officer they know this too. 

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Gloria stood up and stretched her back. That’s a sign to get going. Today’s mission will require clarity and athletic anticipation. How does one spot your targets who definitely do not look like the pictures that were discussed during the briefing? Well, one is 175.1 cm tall according to their Bulgarian passport, and the other is a Lebanese man estimated to be 174 cm according to CCTV. But looking taller is not rocket science. And looking different has become exceptionally easier since plastic surgeries can be performed at about any beauty specialist in the Free Nations. Not to forget that Heathrow serves about 150.000 passengers a day, and you can be assured that Tableau has chosen one of the busiest days of the year. Catching the two bad guys will most likely be a last minute task. That is the bad news. A gunfight puncturing the fuselage of an aircraft, that is the worse news. 

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“Alright Peter, I’m getting another one for the go.”

Gloria subtly takes out her Glock-19 9mm pistol and cocks it under the table of the cafe. What continues to surprise Peter is how Gloria manages to do seemingly alarming things in the most casual and covert manner. He looks around Café o Campo. Families, business folks and even flight staff, all seem tired and catching a moment of rest before their flights are called over the intercom. It might be a good time to prep his pistol as well. From underneath his shirt Peter removes his Sig Sauer P320 Compact from his crucial concealment holster. This trusted weapon has followed him for over 20 deployments, still he prays every day his pistol never jams on him. Pistol cocked and loaded. Now it’s game time. 

“One coffee, put the sugar in yourself. Let’s see our friends at check-in.” 

“Aye soldier.”  

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Together they leave the Campo Flight cafeteria and walk onto the epoxy floors of Heathrow Airport. The clock has turned to 5:45 in the morning, which means it is becoming busier and busier by the minute. Peter and Gloria walk through the waves of travelers and dodge the occasional pieces of smart luggage who seem to be aimlessly chasing their owners. Peter looks up at the big timetable. The split-flap display is about to do what it does best. Make its classic flipping sounds and spin the alphanumeric text into the latest flight information. For a moment the masses stood still as the retro display demanded its attention. Lisbon, Vienna, Zurich, no. Barcelona, Paris, Amsterdam, New York City, Oslo, Ibiza, they wish. Reykjavik, Madrid, Stuttgart, Venice, Boston. That’s it! Departing at 7:25, Terminal 5, Gate B35, Nation Airways, on time. 

“Let’s get to T5.” Peter spoke softly. “25 minute walk. Let’s walk slowly, we’re early.” 

“You want to see who is in a hurry?”

“I want to get a sense of who we will be flying with.”

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