Departure Gate No. 8

“Please allow me to take a few minutes of your time.”

He said this politely. Though phrased as a request, his words were an unmistakable command. Jørgen took in the gray overcoat the man wore ——although the tailoring and quality were very fine, it still resembled the uniform of some kind of organization. To be exact, he looked as though he was the type of person that had come out of the same system as the patrol officers at Frankfurt Airport.
　　
He flashed his ID at him. It was all done very quickly and all he was able to register was an eagle in a threatening pose at the top and the words “Federal Security…” before it was stored away once again.
　　
All right. It can’t be helped. He calmly thought. He had been prepared to be questioned by the police at some point. After all, who told him to act so suspiciously; sitting there in the waiting area in front of the eighth departure gate. ——Of course there were a few other details that needed to be added to this. In the past three days, every day, from five-thirty in the morning to eleven at night, he was always in that same seat.

He dipped his head slightly at the man, intending to stand up from the chair. However, the other party gestured for him to remain in his seat then quickly sat down beside him.
　　
“Let’s talk here first.” He had a deep and low timbre with a bit of huskiness and a dignified feel to it. “If I think it’s necessary, I’ll ask you to come with me to another place.”
　　
“No problem.” Jørgen replied. Of course, compared to staying in an unknown place, say, an eerie, interrogation room (he had only seen that kind of thing in movies), he preferred to remain where he was.
　　
He placed the magazine in the bag beside him.
　　
It was currently ten o’clock at night. The waiting area of the departure gate was completely empty. In the waiting area at the entrance of Departure Gate No. 8, there were only three people. Aside from Jørgen and the tall, gray-attired man, there was also a young man dressed in a red sweater sitting catty-corner to them. He was busy reading a copy of the Frankfurt Report. ——Jørgen judged he was the companion of the man who had just sat down beside him and most likely a plainclothes. Beside him, was a suitcase. It looked as if he was waiting to board a plane. However, the departure gate had announced the take-off of the final flight half an hour ago.
　　
The gray-clothed man began speaking.
　　
“We have noticed your unusual behavior in the past three days.” He continued. “Can you please explain this?”
　
Were Jørgen a seasoned criminal, he would have had a routine of standard answers for a leading question such as this. His attitude would have been somewhere between the extremes of acting dull-witted and confused, and frank and sincere. The principle behind this was to avoid at all costs, revealing any information the police themselves had not already mentioned. ——But alas, as he wasn’t a criminal but a civilian, he fell right into it:
　　
“I realize, this must appear a little unusual. Everyday, I sit here from morning to night without any intention of boarding a plane.” Jørgen said all this somewhat hurriedly. “The truth is, I’m here waiting for someone.”
　　
“Who?”
　　
“A young man, between twenty-five to twenty-eight years old, blond hair, blue-gray eyes, and a height of around one-point-eight meters.”
　　
The gray-clothed man seemed to have perceived something and furrowed his brows.
　　
“What is his name?”
　　
“Ralph.” Said Jørgen. “He called himself Ralph. Ralph Meyer. But, I don’t believe this is his real name. And I don’t know what his real name is.”

Play – Ólafur Arnalds – Not Alone

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“Why are you so certain this is not his name?”
　
“Because, I checked the passenger list.” Subconsciously, he realized he needed to explain further. “Oh, it wasn’t through, er, illegal means. It was through business relations…” he ended awkwardly. “Of course, I know this is still unconventional.”

From the inner pocket of his coat, he took out his business card and handed it over. The man simply glimpsed at it without any intention of receiving it.
　
“I know who you are, Mr. Lehmann. The airport staff recognized you. Otherwise, they would have come as early as the first day you sat here to question you.”
　　
Jørgen sheepishly returned his business card to his pocket.
　　
“Did you make an appointment to meet here with this “Ralph”?”
　　
“No.” Jørgen replied, “We did not make an appointment. I think… I hope he will come.”
　　
“Hope?”
　　
“Yes. He had told me he often traveled by plane for business trips. Since that’s the case, it’s possible he could pass by and see me at this departure gate. And so, I’m waiting for him here.” Unsure of how credible he sounded, he thought, ——I hope he doesn’t take me for a mental patient and take me in.
　　
However, the man only raised his eyes calmly.
　　
“I don’t think this is a very efficient way of meeting each other,” the man said.
　　
“I know that. But I must meet him.” Jørgen said these words seriously.
　　
“Why?”
　　
Jørgen hesitated as he took a look at the unfamiliar man dressed in a gray overcoat. But in the end, he still decided to tell the truth—— One should never tell lies unless it was absolutely necessary. Even more so, when the other party is the police.
　　
“Because I love him.” He answered.