“Good,” James thought. “Everything is going exactly as planned.”

He took a final haul of his Winston cigarette before slamming and twisting it into the transparent, glass ashtray. James glanced up as he heard the door across his cabin swing open, to see his lifelong friend, Carrie, barrel in. Her face was blotched with red and her espresso hair stuck to the sides of her face. Carrie huffed and threw two passports onto the countertop.

“Got ‘em,” she said. “Douglas Walker? I’m Amanda Lewis. Nice to meet you.”