66
We stand outside departures. It's a warm day. The sun is shining.
Amira fiddles with the young girl's hair. The kid's name is Rima. She wears a pink coat and matching trainers. She smiles at Amira. A mouthful of tiny teeth. The colour's back in her cheeks again. Brown eyes twinkling in the light.
"There, now you look like a princess," Amira says, out of the escort dress and into jeans, a white sweater and a navy jacket.
A car approaches from the left. A sleek, black Audi saloon. It pulls up in front of us. The driver winds down his window. He's a young, blonde guy dressed in a smart grey suit and black tie.
"Charles Cobb?" he asks.
"That's me."
The driver takes a package from the passenger seat and hands it through the window. I pass the package onto Amira.
The driver hands me a
