Intercom

There was no other action on the entire planet that irked Detective Matthew Cooper more than having to sit on a plane for hours with a group of complete strangers. It wasn’t that he was scared of flying; quite the opposite in fact. Since his divorce and the subsequent departure of his wife and daughter to the United States almost ten years ago, Matthew had spent half of his life boarding flights to and from Los Angeles. What irked him more than anything were the other people in the plane — the holiday-goers and their frivolities, the high-flying businessmen with their loud voices and glasses of scotch. Hell, Matthew even hated the old dears that were enjoying retirement by jetting to the various continents with their significant other. It was all just too loud, unorganised and shambolic for him to deal with.

Squeezing his way into the seat designated to him on his boarding pass, Matthew settled himself down. The long-haul flights were always the worst, and this was certainly no exception. He could already pick out the problem passengers just from looking at them; the group of rowdy young men a few rows down from him, and the group of girls on the opposite side of the cabin. Both were roughly the same age and he had no doubt they were away on holiday. The girls were already shrieking with laughter, the noise echoing through the fuselage and testing Matthew’s very last ounce of patience.

“They’ll be like this the whole way, no doubt.”

Matthew chuckled darkly, nodding in agreement with the young man in the seat to his left. Usually, Matthew tried to avoid conversing with whoever happened to be in the same row as him, but complaining was pretty much his favourite pastime and any excuse to moan about anything was heavily welcomed in his books.

“Worst part about these damn plane journeys,” he replied, shuffling awkwardly in a futile attempt to make his seat even just a tiny bit more comfortable. “It doesn’t help that we’ll be on here for God knows how long.”

The man seemed appreciative of the conversation, nodding in earnest. Matthew estimated that he couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five; he didn’t have the tell-tale signs of ageing around his eyes, nor did his stylish haircut scream old age. Most of all, he seemed to be dressed in a cross between the irritating holidaymakers and the businessmen — casual, yet comfortable. These were what Matthew would class as the ideal passengers. You got none of the obnoxious business plugs that the high-fliers seemed to favour, but you were almost guaranteed that they wouldn’t be drinking enough for seven or making inappropriate jokes about the air hostess’s arse.

“I suppose we should be thankful they aren’t sitting beside us. I’m Brendan, by the way. Brendan Hurst.” He stuck a hand out as he introduced himself.

“Matthew Cooper. You’re absolutely right. I doubt there would be anything worse than being stuck beside a group of inconsiderate teens for the duration of this journey,” Matthew replied with a grin, happy that his journey wasn’t about to be marred by some idiot who thought it’d be a good idea to fall asleep on his shoulder. Brendan smirked, pushing himself back into his chair.

“Absolutely correct. Couldn’t think of anything worse, if I’m being absolutely honest.”