30Night accompanied the silver Mercedes along its southerly route, planting a suggestion of sleep to its occupants. The car rolled up to the border checkpoint where an odd ambient light flooded the car from light posts illuminating the inspection area. A bony customs officer in a pressed blue uniform approached the driver’s window.
Osman rolled down his window and held out four passports and arrival cards. “Good evening,” he said in an uncharacteristically friendly tone.
The officer took the documents without responding, fastened them to a clipboard and tapped on the driver’s window.
“Is there a problem officer?” Osman asked.
The officer tapped on the window again.
Osman spun to the sound of Swan’s door opening. She was out of the car before he could speak.
“Please remain in the car
