THE AIRPORT

 THE AIRPORT

Shayna Carlton slumped down in the chair in the airport lounge, partially obscured by a large dieffenbachia plant that was placed to decorate the industrial area; to give it a more homey atmosphere for travelers who may be far from home. Her dark glasses hid her eyes and her floppy hat hid her hair and part of her face.  She frequently glanced at her watch, checking the time till they started the boarding process. The minutes went by slowly and she tapped her fingers impatiently on her knee. She kept one hand on her backpack at all times.

Two security guards walked through the terminal and Shayna slunk deeper into her seat, feigning sleep while she surreptitiously watched them scan the crowds.  They passed by and she gave an audible sigh of relief and unhunched a little, causing a lock of brown hair to tumble from her hat. She quickly tucked it back and then remembered that if anyone was looking for her they would be looking for a tall blond woman not a woman with mouse brown hair. Her recent dye job looked completely natural.  She had enhanced her eyes and changed the contours of her cheek giving her face a more angular look and filling out her lips with a wide stroke of her lip pencil line and adding a slash of beige lipstick.

Her clothes were loose, covering her curvaceous body, and hiding her full breasts and hips. Generally, men turned and followed her with their eyes when she would sashay by them, knowing full well that she was a  sight they would not soon forget. But today her loose track pants and oversized hoodie disguised the very assets that had gained her the reputation as a femme fatale. No one was bound to recognize her today and that suited her purposes well. 

 Her feet were clad in inexpensive no name brand running shoes and the backpack she carried was strictly utilitarian, The contents of that backpack, however, were anything but.

She had arrived at the airport several hours before the plane that she wanted to catch was due to leave. She carefully canvassed the female travelers and saw one that was similar to her height, weight, and age. She sat beside her as the woman waited in the lounge watching her three rambunctious children and after observing where she had stowed her documents she waited for an opportunity. She didn't have to wait long before one of the tykes got up to some mischief and the mother had to get up from her seat to deal with the situation. She quickly reached into the side pocket of the woman's capacious purse, pulled out the documents, and transferred them into her backpack, then discreetly left the area. It had been a long time since she had had to resort to pick-pocketing, not since she was a young teenager, but it was, like they say, the same as riding a bike. You never forget. The past few years she had moved on to more lucrative ventures. But it was good to know she still had it.

 After relieving the mother of her documents she entered a washroom, selected a stall, and examined the documents. After several minutes she figured out that they would serve her purpose. The woman whose identity she had stolen was the same height but according to the identification she had purloined, was over ten pounds heavier. Shayna grimaced, but this was no time to be picky, she would just have to live with it. She memorized the rest of the information, studied the photo on the passport then tucked the small folder in her backpack. She took the opportunity to check the contents of her bag while still in the relative privacy of the washroom stall.  Everything was in order. She took out her makeup bag and did wonders transforming herself into the poor harassed woman of three children.

She changed her shirt for a bulky hoody which added the ten pounds onto her frame and added a  floppy hat on top of her hair, masking the fact that her hair was longer than the picture in the stolen passport. Shayna entered the washroom as Shayna Carlton and exited as Catherine Bantry. She had totally reinvented herself. She exited the washroom and walked slowly around the terminal till she found the departure number that matched the one on her ticket.

 She had only ten minutes before boarding began and sat down where she could observe the comings and goings of the other people in the terminal. So far so good. No uniformed police or security guards were in sight. She glanced around at her fellow travelers. The old couple holding hands together sat opposite her, already dressed in vacation garb, he in his Hawaiian shirt and she in a flowered mumu. The young couple beside them giggled away, the look of honeymooners written all over them. The family of four, two twin teenage girls and Mum and Dad.  Shayna liked to check out people and figure out what their life might be like. She wondered if anyone in the group was looking at her and imagining that she was an international jewel thief with a stash of jewelry sewn into the lining of her backpack. Well if they thought that, they would be right.

For two long months, she had romanced  Ira Goldstein, a diamond jeweler in the downtown core. He was twenty years older than her but was flattered by her attentions and through the relationship she had gained his trust. One night after making sure he was gone for the evening she had picked the lock to his home office and discovered the passwords and codes for the alarm systems for his downtown shop. The next night as he attended a charity gala, she robbed him blind.

The PA system told them that it was their time to board the plane, Shayna stood up and joined the line, not the first to enter and not the last, just blend in with the group. Not too fast and not too slow. The line inched along. She was almost at the check-in, a few more steps. The airline attendant asked for her documents with a big friendly smile. When she completed her check she repeated, “Have a good trip, Ms. Bantry,” just as she had to all the previous passengers. Shayna nodded her thanks. 

“The only trip Ms. Carlton will be having is one to the nearest county jail,” said a man in a tweed jacket. He turned to Shayna, “I am Detective Martin and this is Detective Routley,” he said, indicating the gentleman who took Shayna's elbow in a strong grip. He spun her around and cuffed both of her hands behind her back.

  Shayna thought. the jig is up. I guess you can't always outrun the long arm of the law, and outrun your past. No matter how much you change yourself.