Hitting Bottom in Mid Air
Lindsey had appeared fine leaving Gimhae Airport's runway. He'd walked with a slight stagger, but that was understandable—he'd tested his purchase many times in the past days.
He and Kim Soon had left Pusan, South Korea, with six kilos of uncut Cocaine and a half kilo of Heroin. The coke was for the streets of New York; the H was for Lindsey. He went on the nod before they left Korean airspace and never woke up. Kim heard him gasp a final breath, saw Lindsey's chest rise, then watched it cease movement. A line of spittle drooled from Lindsey's mouth; Kim daubed it with his sleeve.
They were to fly to Tokyo, a two-hour flight with a three-hour layover, then onward to the Big Apple. Getting the suitcases wasn't a problem; hauling a body off the plane was.
"Is your friend okay?" A stewardess stood behind them, a thin woman with too much lipstick and wire rimmed glasses.
"He's sleeping, got a hangover," Kim replied. She seemed satisfied with his answer and continued her casual inspection of the other passengers. With her back to him, Kim took the opportunity to move Lindsey's arms and upper body, make him appear as though he had moved in his sleep.
Still, the problem was just an hour away; what could he do with the body at the Tokyo airport? When the authorities found out Lindsey had died, and discovered Kim and Lindsey were together, there would be trouble.
Kim went to the men's room. With the clock ticking and a prison sentence already as good as begun, he needed a plan; he needed to disassociate himself from Lindsey. Nothing came, no ideas jumped out, and no great plan of escape presented itself. Kim was Lindsey's brother—they'd bought tickets together. They had luggage with carefully concealed dope, both their names on the tags. A simple check of the flight roster would shackle the two together like Siamese twins.
Kim didn't care about his brother's death. He'd known Lindsey would eventually die from his insane drug usage, but still didn't want his brother taking him down.
Returning to his seat, he moved Lindsey's body and arms again, wondering if anyone noticed the dead man's skin tone changing to a very pale white. Prison was a sure bet. Lindsey's body was going to be found, Kim was going to be prosecuted; his life was over.
The stewardess made a return round through the silent cabin. "Are you sure your friend's alright?"
"Yes ma'am. He'll probably sleep until we land in Japan."
She eyed Lindsey, eyes slitted and concentrating, lips tight as if worried. "Well, okay. But if he needs some—"
"He's fine."
The H, pure and deadly, sat in Lindsey's vest pocket. Kim snatched it and put it in his pants. He knew one thing right then. He was not doing time. He was not going behind bars again.
Kim Soon returned to the bathroom with the only answer he could find.