I, Spy? (Sophie Green Mysteries, No. 1) (Sophie Green Mystery)

Ace Airlines, we would like to thank you for choosing this service and wish you a very pleasant flight.”
    I estimated that about five people heard me, and that two of them were actually listening.
    More of them turned up after a while, and I did all the procedures on auto-pilot. I repeated the aircraft change announcement twice more, but by the time we came to boarding, I still had people asking me in panic where their plane was.
    I mean, really. I’m sure these were very bright, sane, reasonable people. It was just that the second they stepped into the terminal they lost all their brains, not to mention manners, and started acting like angry five-year-olds.
    “For the Edinburgh flight?” came a dark velvet voice from the other side of the flow of passengers. “Please form two queues, please…”
    I looked up in surprise. Sometimes the dispatcher might help to pull cards if the flight is really full and we’re understaffed, but I wasn’t sure why Luca had come over to help. Still, it got things done quicker.
    The last of them trickled through, and I started tapping the security numbers of the boarded passengers into the computer. We were two down, and the system had them as Lavery, Anne, and Brown, John.
    Luca counted up the cards. “Forty-eight?”
    “Yep. Two down.” I reached for the microphone. “This is a further boarding call for the Ace Airlines flight AC109 to Edinburgh. Would passengers Lavery and Brown please make their way to gate eighty-seven where this flight is now closing.”
    Anne Lavery turned up straight away, flying through, racing out to the plane. Truth be told, there were several minutes before pushback, but it paid to get people boarded on time. The dispatchers could get pretty stroppy if there was any delay and they weren’t all above putting it down to gate staff on their reports.
    I checked the system again. John Brown had one piece of baggage checked in, and I radioed down to the dispatcher that she might want to start looking for it. It was highly illegal for a piece of luggage to travel without its owner. After Lockerbie strict rules were put in place to make sure every piece is scanned and accounted for. If a passenger didn’t travel, then the bag had to be pulled off the plane. It was a bugger, especially since the ramp boys had to search through every bag to find the one they wanted.
    I made another call for John Brown and got Ops to put out a call over the terminal PA. Luca was tapping a pile of cards on the desk.
    “He still not here?”
    I looked around with heavy sarcasm. “Not unless he’s invisible.”
    Luca gave a faint smile. He looked pretty damn tense.
    “You okay?”
    He shrugged. “I’m tired. This is my third early, and I been doing overtime too. Looking forward to my day off, you know?”
    I nodded. I was looking forward to it, too. Hours and hours of unadulterated sleep. Bliss.  
    Luca grabbed the microphone and made another impatient call for Brown. “Failure to report to the gate within the next five minutes will result in your bags being offloaded and the plane will depart without you.”
    That usually got them. You could tell them they had fair warning, repeat until you were blue in the face that the boarding time was printed and highlighted on their boarding card (and it always allowed oodles of time for boarding, too), but ultimately, to a passenger, if they missed the plane then it was your fault.
    Passengers were stupid. I hated them all.
    The dispatcher radioed up. “Any sight of him?”
    “Not a squint,” I replied.
    “Right, that’s it. I’m getting his bag off. If he turns up send him back to check-in. He ain’t traveling.”
    Luca glanced up at me. “I’ll go and get his bag,” he said. “If he comes, keep him here.”
    I nodded, watching him go. I got all the sucky jobs. I liked to act the bitch but really, I hated telling people they couldn’t travel. They got so mean. Sometimes they cried and I felt miserable. Sometimes they yelled at me and I got all angry, and when I was done being angry, I went away and cried, because they made me feel little and stupid and worthless.
    I let them get to me—that was my problem.
    Not long after Luca disappeared, a fat, balding man in a shiny suit came rushing up to the gate.
    “Mr. Brown?”
    He nodded breathlessly. “Am I too late?”
    “I’m afraid so,” I said. “The plane’s about to push back.”
    He looked distraught. “I can still make it,” he said, glancing out of