3
Sam and Maureen occupy a booth in the café car. Since the passengers have yet to board the train, the car is empty, except for an Amtrak blue-uniformed African American woman working the café counter. Both of them have steaming Styrofoam cups of hot coffee set before them.
“So, if I may be so bold,” Maureen says, both her hands wrapped around her coffee cup. “I’ve been wondering why you got busted down to train duty.”
“The Mile-High Club,” Sam reveals. He steals a sip of the still too hot coffee.
Maureen’s already big eyes go wider. “Excuse me?”
“Prior to my neutralizing that Islamic terrorist bomber at thirty-three thousand feet above the Atlantic Ocean, I engaged in a small tryst with a woman named Mary in one of the aircraft’s economy class lavatories.”
“Thirty-three thousand fe
