Reine took the opportunity on the short flight to Rome to catch up with Iverson. She got more than she was looking for.
By the time they boarded the transatlantic plane bound for Washington, she had multiple reasons for feeling sick. Not only was the ceaseless headache making her nauseated, but the details the professor confirmed also made her too anxious to get any much-needed rest.
She now knew they were called to Venice to examine a painting that turned out to be a previously undocumented DaVinci. From the professor's digital photographs, she saw it was clearly a portrait of her, which just added to her confusion. She had also attended one of the grandest balls in the city, but because he wasn't there, the professor didn't know the details of the night. The farther they got from Venice, the more Reine's hopes of finding out what had happened there faded.
Because they were seated in front, she and the professor were among the first passengers at Dulles International Airport to deplane. He knew how awful she'd been feeling, so he insisted she go ahead without him if he wasn't able to keep up. Grateful for the courtesy, she walked swiftly among the crowd of disembarking travelers with her passport and completed customs' form in hand.
Even though there were a handful of others in the 'US citizens' line ahead of her, Reine was ecstatic to at least already be in the passport control area. She didn't have any checked bags so she'd just breeze through customs and grab a taxi. Judging by the address on her drivers' license, she could be home in an hour.
The routine welcoming of residents made the queue move quickly. Soon, it was Reine's turn to approach the Immigration and Customs Enforcement officer at the next available cubicle. His poker face, however, hid any type of empathy for the weary travelers he encountered. The tall, granite topped counter - practically up to Reine's chin - made the setup even more imposing.
Handing her passport to the officer, she greeted him with a small smile. "Hello, sir."
He silently opened the official document and quickly compared the image with the face of the woman standing in front of him. Satisfied with the match, he scanned the main page through his computer. Several seconds passed as the system searched its records. Meanwhile, the officer looked with disdain at the rarely waning crowd.
A small beep from the machine brought his attention back to the screen. His posture stiffened in reaction to the information, and he glanced back at Reine with increased interest. Picking up the phone, he referred to a "hit in the system" and asked for an "escort to a debrief" before quickly hanging up.
"Is there a problem?" she asked as her heart began to race at the unusual reaction. She had never encountered such a problem before.
"If you could just wait patiently, ma'am. I'd appreciate it," he replied formulaically.
Not having any other choice, Reine watched as other passengers from her flight got cleared through. Even Professor Iverson, who had been at least a dozen people behind, made it through ahead of her.
After several more uncomfortable minutes had passed, another uniformed officer arrived. She took Reine's passport and asked her to follow. Leading her away from the public arrival area, they first entered a suite of offices and ultimately made it to a windowless conference room.
"Ma'am, I'm going to need to take your bag."
Reine handed over her carry-on satchel.
The woman continued to look her up and down. "Do you have a cell phone on you?" she asked.
Reine pointed at the bag. "It's in there."
"Thank you, ma'am." The officer nodded. "Please have a seat. Someone will be in shortly."
YOU ARE READING
Waters of Oblivion
FantasySometimes you just might have to die to live again. ***** When art historian Reine Baldwin meets Gabe Moran, a charming journalist, she has no idea their blossoming love will sha...