Chapter Twenty-Eight
Teterboro Airport, New York
The immigration officer barely scrutinized the passport before handing it back over the counter to Conchos. He received it with a nod, and walked past the glass-faced counter and down towards swinging doors at the end of the corridor that led out to the private charter airfield at Teterboro airport in County Bergen. It was mid-afternoon and the blue skies above his head confirmed the perfect flying conditions.
Conchos was satisfied with the arrangements. From the moment he had received the telephone call earlier that morning corroborating his carefully laid plans, everything had proceeded like clockwork. The twelve-kilometre journey to Teterboro Airport from Manhattan Island, passing through the Lincoln Tunnel, had been relatively trouble
