I hated that airport. I couldn't understand why they didn't build it so that the shuttle bus would stop right in front of the check-in area. I already...had a couple of tennis games that morning and I didn't need more exercise. It seemed like a marathon run before I got to the departure lounge for my flight.I saw Jennifer when I approached the check-in counter. She was wearing brown crewneck sleek top and beige stretch pants. Her hair spread softly and smoothly over her shoulder, reminding me of. A tall, bald white man with a revolver trained on her sat in the back seat as well. He made certain the gag was secure before placing the hood over Helena’s head. She felt him taking her purse and bag off her shoulder and searching through them.“We got a nice piece here,” the man said in an East End London accent. From his voice and appearance, he conjured images in Helena’s mind of an English actor whose every film featured a POV shot of him kicking someone in the face. “And I ain’t talkin’. More

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