34. Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter thirty-four
Trevor turned for a look over his shoulder at the airplane lavatory. It was unoccupied and he got up to use the bathroom, again. This would be the fourth time he’d been to the head since the lift off. That wasn’t like him. It wasn’t like him at all.
The fasten seatbelt sign was on. The fasten seatbelt sign always seemed to be on.
Trevor noticed over the last couple of years that commercial airline pilots had taken to leaving the seatbelt light on when they were in the air.
He suspected it had less to do with turbulence and more to do with keeping passengers out of the aisles and in their seats.
No priority-one flights had been available for Trevor’s return trip.
That particular gravy train had come to a screeching halt.
Trevor’s days of playing the ultra-suave spy, flying private jets and driving fast cars, had come to a screeching halt.
It was back to flying coach on commercial airliners for him.
Too bad too. A guy could get used to traveling in style.
Unfortunately, Trevor had been forced to book a passenger jet which meant the flight home would take nearly twice as long. At the moment, the 747 was somewhere over the Atlantic, cruising at an altitude of thirty-five thousand feet.
The plane hit a pocket of turbulence that rattled the fuselage just as Trevor unbuckled his safety belt. Maybe there was a reason for the seatbelt sign after all. No matter. He had to go.
Trevor stood up and a wave of dizziness hit. Just a little dizzy spell. That’s all.
It had been a long couple of days and, Trevor reasoned, he’d hardly eaten anything in the last forty-eight hours. He hadn’t drunk enough water either. Dehydration was a real concern. At the moment, he felt like he could drink his bodyweight.
He moved along the aisle toward the lavatory feeling like a drunk stumbling home after a bender.
His head was swimming and his guts felt like he’d eaten a bad clam.
Hunger, he told himself. You didn’t remember to eat.
They’d be starting the food service soon.
Although, truth be told, he didn’t feel much like eating.
In fact, if he didn’t get to the can soon, he worried he’d have an accident.
Some spy he was. He’d only made it halfway when a young blonde girl in pigtails, nine or ten, leapt up and hurried to the bathroom door.
She darted inside and the door banged shut. The bolt slammed home with an audible clack heard over the roar of the engines. Trevor wrinkled his nose in frustration.
Nothing to do but to wait. He put his back to the wall and tried to focus his mind on something, anything, else. Hopefully, the intel he’d collected in Serbia would save both him and Sam from the political fallout.
Come on, girlie, thought Trevor. Others are waiting.
The door finally hinged open. The blonde went back to her seat.
Trevor practically leapt for the open door.
He shut himself inside the tiny space and didn’t even bother with the sanitary paper toilet seat cover.
No time for that. He just barely got himself planted in time.
He closed his eyes and put a hand to his forehead.
Was he clammy? Hot? It was hard to tell.
Was it possible to be both clammy and hot?
While Trevor sat on the toilet, a spot of turbulence added a little extra excitement to the proceedings. Four bathroom trips in such a short period of time was worrisome, and on an empty stomach no less. He didn’t like the way his forehead felt.
When he finished, Trevor stood, pulled his pants back up and took stock in a mirror. The face staring back at him sent a bolt of shock racing through his system. A cold fist of dread twisted in his belly. He suddenly felt like he needed to sit back down.
His cheeks were pale and his nose red. Dark circles had started to form under his watery eyes.
“You’re tired, that’s all,” Trevor told his reflection. “Tired and hungry.”
He forced a smile onto his face. That was the solution. Of course it was. It had been too long since he’d eaten anything and days since he slept. A hot meal and few hours of sleep would make him right as the mail.
“A steak dinner and a good long nap will put you right.”
Trevor ran some water, splashed his face and tried not to look at his own reflection as he fought with the folding door. He was on his way back to his seat when a tickle in his nose forced a sneeze.