CHAPTER SIX
His hands fisted in his pockets, Bryan looked around the terminal casually like a man who had some time to kill. As he didn’t want to stir any curiosity, he was careful not to allow his gaze linger over anyone for more than a couple of seconds. He noticed though a few groups of shady looking guys and his eyes brushed over them slowly, committing their faces to memory for future reference.
The smell of exhaust and burnt rubber filled the air every time the doors opened to let another weary traveler get inside. It mixed with the smell of onions and garlic, of offending body odors, stale coffee, and the occasional spice of cinnamon. He traced that one to a group of girls, enjoying a few festive cookies just two feet away from him. The ruckus of so many people gathered in the sam
