Circle of Time by Recy Dunn - Chapter Twelve - Beware Not All That Glitters Is Gold
www.booksbyrecy.com - Houston, TX - Hobby Airport --- Transworld Flight 102 battled wind shears during the last twenty minutes of its journey. The jolt of the wheels touching the runway was heaven to the shaken passengers, including the old man.
Houston (I-Newswire) October 21, 2013 - Chapter twelve ...Far behind the other passengers, an old man with a large forehead and deep set, dark brown eyes, stiffened as he walked in the empty warm concourses of Hobby airport. An uncomfortable amount of relative humidity caused the old man to clear his sinuses with a tainted cloth. The air conditioners were not working and the unventilated air inside the airport contrasted with the temperature outside.
A tall immigration officer stood next to entrance for foreign visitors. A large white sign with red letters that read 'Customs and Immigration' hung over another officer seated in a booth. The tall officer watched the old man walk slowly towards him. He noticed the old man's weary eyes.
"Purpose of the visit?" asked the officer seated in the booth. The tall officer stared at his new arrival and focused on the old man's facial expressions.
"Vacation," the old man replied as he looked up at the ceiling. He admired the pre-Renaissance sculptures suspended in mid-air.
"Your passport states that you are a South African native. However, your paper indicates your previous destination was Leningrad, Russia. What was the purpose of your visit there?" demanded the officer in the booth.
The old man flicked the officer a rueful smile. "Vacation, a well-deserved vacation." His speaking voice was English, with a southern accent; his diction trained and precise.
The immigration officer looked at his counterpart. The tall officer motioned to his superior seated in a glass office, drinking a cup of coffee, and reading the newspaper.
The superior, a large man weighing at almost three hundred pounds, put on his hat and walked towards the opened door; he paused and stared at the old man. He could not help but notice that the old man seemed familiar. He walked towards the old man, stopped and sniffed several times. He approached the old man and smelled a peculiar odor coming from the his clothes. The supervisor extended his hand.
"Passport." He looked through the passport and noticed frequent visits to and from the U.S. and Russia. "Step aside, Mr. Williams, and follow this officer to the waiting area?"
A Negro janitor pulled his mop back to allow the old man and immigration officer to pass. The old man grinned and winked at the janitor. The janitor smiled and whispered in a low keyed voice, "Umbiki", when the two turned and walked into the glassed enclosure.
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Published On:October 21, 2013
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