Chapter Twelve
Dark Corridors of Light
Sun rise. Virgin Atlantic flight V50 touched down dead on time at 5:55 a.m.. The A380 airbus’s tires scorched the tarmac; the plane taxied safely into the airport’s terminal. The sun was already warm; it was a beautiful morning with hardly any wind in the southern hemisphere.
At passport control, a mother and daughter waited patiently for their turn, behind the long line of passengers. They passed through security with nothing to declare, then on through a small duty-free section, until they reached the busy arrivals area. There were lots of people waiting eagerly for friends and relatives.
But there was one lady holding up a sign, looking very eager indeed, jittering her feet back and forth in anxiety, watching everybody that walked through the a
