The floor was cold gray terrazzo, and the air carried a faint smell of burnt coffee and jet fuel seeping in through the outer windows.

Every row of vinyl seats near the boarding door was full of waiting passengers, their coats and backpacks spilling into the aisles.

The only open spot was a single empty chair in row four, set right across the main walkway from a group of active-duty Marines.

I sat down, set my carry-on neatly between my boots, and undid the top flap of my service dress coat.

I took out my battered paperback novel and opened it to the marked page near the middle chapter.