The jet taxied along a runway to a private arrivals building. Hellboy and Liz had time to freshen up before they came to a stop, the jets winding down and the aircraft structure creaking and clicking as it accustomed itself to solid ground again. The pilot came through from the cabin and glanced nervously at Hellboy.
"Customs will be along in a few minutes to escort you to the terminal," he said. "From there you'll be taken to the main Terminal Four in an airport bus, where the two guys from the embassy will be waiting for you."
"Thanks for a comfortable flight," Hellboy said.
"No problem." The pilot nodded at Hellboy and Liz, then disappeared quickly back into the cockpit.
"Feels like we've landed somewhere hot," Liz said. She had changed her blouse and trousers and tied up her hair, as if expecting summer.
"I know how you feel," Hellboy said. Seen from the window, the expanse of concrete seemed depressingly barren and empty. He wondered how much of this world would have changed by the next time he and Liz had cause to fly somewhere.
A few minutes later a small cart trundled across the concrete and parked beside the jet. The driver regarded the aircraft with the bored stare of someone Long used to celebrity and politician arrivals. Hellboy looked forward to exiting the plane and relieving the monotony of this guy's day.
He was glad to feel solid ground underfoot once more. He and Liz sat on the back of the cart while the suddenly nervous driver guided them left and right between buildings, parked aircraft, piles of luggage containers, and storage compounds.
"Ever want to get lost somewhere, come to an airport," Hellboy said.
"I'll remember that." Liz had an unlit cigarette in her mouth, ready to light it as soon as they entered the arrivals building.
At customs they were greeted with suspicion. Hellboy couldn't blame them, he supposed, but it still rankled when they asked him to empty his backpack. They checked through his clothes and toiletries, then the blank-faced customs guy nodded at his belt.
"Not that," Hellboy said.
"Sorry, sir, but I have to insist."
"Buddy, even I don't know everything that's in there."
"HB," Liz whispered. "That's probably not what they want to hear."
"Sir, there's a lot of trouble in the world today. I understand that's why you're here visiting the U.K., but I can't just let you stroll through without ensuring that you're not carrying anything — "
"Once you re finished with my belt, who's doing my internal?" Hellboy said. He reared up to his full height and swung his tail up behind him.
"Sir — "
"Just give me back my pistol and let me go kill some bad guys."
The customs man turned around to look at his colleagues, but there was no help there. He turned back, defeated. "Sign this."
Hellboy scribbled his name on a piece of paper, took the secured box containing his pistol, and went to unlock it.
"Please, sir," the man said. "Not in the airport."
Hellboy glared at him, then sighed and looked away. "Pal, you need to loosen up."
"Mr. Boy, I'm only doing my job."
"It's Hellboy," Hellboy growled. He walked away with Liz, finding guilty pleasure at the sight of tears in the customs guy's eyes.
"That was uncalled for," Liz said, but he could hear the laughter distorting her voice.
"Hey, it's been a long flight."
"Notice they didn't search me at all? You must look suspicious."
"Ha!" They exited the building, ready to board the bus that would take them to Terminal Four, when they heard the first shouts from behind them.
"Now what?" Hellboy said. He was becoming really annoyed now. But when he turned, no fingers were aimed at him.
They were all pointing up.
Hellboy looked. "Oh crap."
"Hellboy — "
"I know, Liz. You ever get the feeling trouble follows us?"
"What the hell?"
"Dragons. I hate dragons." He plucked quickly at the clasps on the pistol box, but already the immensity of what he was seeing had hit home. It would take more than a big gun to stop these things. It would take more than a whole damn army of big guns.
What they needed right now was a miracle.
* * *