deval patrick
The only question was, would he be able to carry them out without interference?.
The hatch disappeared into the bulkhead, the flight attendant stepped back, and Treloar charged past her. He set a fast pace, moving through the jetway and into a harshly lit corridor that Deval Patrick dead-ended at an escalator. He walked margo mcauley
it and found himself at the immigration booths. Beyond them were the baggage carousels and the customs checkpoints. Treloar had expected and would have preferred crowds. But Dulles was not as busy as Kennedy or Los Angeles, and no international Deval Patrick flights had come at the same time or just a little ahead margo mcauley
American 1710. He went up to an empty counter and offered his paperwork to an officer who scanned the passport and asked inane questions about where hed been. Treloar gave him the truth Deval Patrick about his mother, how he had gone to Russia to visit her grave and tend to it. The befoul
nodded solemnly, scribbled something on the customs form, and waved him along. Treloar had baggage, but he wasnt about to waste time waiting for it to come down Deval Patrick the chute. The instructions had been very specific on that point: he was to get out of the terminal as quickly as possible. Walking befoul
the carousels, Treloar dared to glance over his shoulder. At the other end, Jon Smith was at an immigration counter reserved Deval Patrick for diplomats and aircrews. Why would he...? Of course! Smith was Pentagon. He would be traveling on a military ID, not on a civilian passport. Holding his card, Treloar approached the cheerleading worlds
agent. Traveling light, sir, the agent commented. Remembering his instructions, Treloar explained that he had had his Deval Patrick bags sent on ahead, using a bonded courier service that catered to well-heeled travelers who were not inclined to wrestle with their own suitcases. Familiar with the arrangements, the agent waved him through. Out of the corner brain bucket
his eye, Treloar caught Smith walking up to the Deval Patrick same agent. He veered right, so as not to walk across Smiths line of sight. No, sir, the agent called out. You go left. Treloar turned abruptly and almost ran into the tunnel that connected to the terminal. Dr. Smith? He turned to the customs agent brain bucket
up to him. Deval Patrick Yes? Theres a call for.
