Adolf smiled silkily at the young woman behind the counter.
“I need a flight to Phoenix,” he said.
His private plane had developed some sort of trouble so he would have to fly commercially. Not that it mattered. His luggage could now safely pass through any security device.
She consulted her monitor, then smiled.
“We have flight 856 direct to Phoenix. It’s scheduled to leave at six p.m.”
“Any first-class seats available?”
“Yes, sir, you have your choice of rows four, five and seven, as well as aisle or window.”
“Row four, window, please.”
He casually strolled through security and took a seat just beside the gate counter, glancing at his watch. About a thirty-minute wait. While he waited, he relived his earlier victory.
The Senator had arrived precisely at twelve-thirty, punctual a
