The Spy's Daughter by Adam Brookes

Author:Adam Brookes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction / Action & Adventure, Fiction / Thrillers / Espionage, Fiction / Thrillers / Political
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2017-07-11T04:00:00+00:00

31

Washington, DC

As the plane banked, turning into its approach, Mangan saw a vast, brown, angular building surrounded by an ocean of cars, and realised he was looking at the Pentagon. He sat back, closed his eyes. By the time he was at passport control, he’d be exhibiting every indicator of anxiety and deception: perspiration, hyper-vigilance, fidgeting. They’d read him like a bloody book.

The queue at immigration was long. He stood beneath the surveillance cameras, amid the families chattering in Spanish, the tourists, the students. He took out his book, read while the queue inched forward, yearning to lose himself for a minute or two.

The officer’s name badge said Alvarez. She was petite in her blue uniform, dark-haired, glasses. She didn’t look at him as she fingerprinted him and made him stare into a camera.

“What brings you to the United States, sir?”

“Just a visit. Holiday,” he said.

A pause. She looked from his passport to him to the computer screen.

“And how long are you planning on staying?”

“Two weeks.”

“Mm-hmm. And are you going to do any work while you’re here?”

“No. Just holiday.”

She looked at the passport.

“What do you do, sir? What’s your job?”

“I’m a journalist.”

“Cool. Who you write for?”

“I’m freelance. I have my own website.”

“You going to do any writing while you’re here?”

“No. No work at all.”

“C’mon. You guys are always working.”

“Not me.”

“And you’re coming from Suriname. Was that work?”

“No. Just travel.”

She paused, studying the screen. Looked at his passport again.

“Where are you staying while you’re here?”

“Oh. I have an address. I booked it online. It’s a room.”

“Like, in a hotel?”

“No. In a house.” He made a show of searching in his pockets, pulled out a scrap of paper. “It’s in … Brookland.”

“Brookland. Sure.”

She nodded, as if he finally made sense. The slunk sound of the stamp on the passport, and he was headed, shakily, to baggage claim. Outside, on the pavement, he lit a cigarette, feeling the fear rising like vapour in him.

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