Immigration.
He launched to his feet, taking a weirdly defensive stance in front of me. It set me on alert, declaring without words something was wrong. He spoke in German, but the man in the front was focused only on me, suspicion clear on his face.
“Shawn?” I tried not to panic.
“I’m trying to explain to them your passport is on its way from the U.S. Embassy, and that they should let you wait here on the plane until it arrives.”
The man in front had one of those faces that seemed incapable of smiling, and his discerning eyes narrowed at Shawn’s English. The German discussion between them continued, increasing until I was sure they were arguing.
The other officer, the silent one, abruptly took a step forward and latched a hand on my arm. It was aggressive, and from a stranger, and I instinctively pulled back.
“What’s happening?” My voice was high and tight, and blood roared in my ears.
“Your passport is coming, but you need to go with these men. They insist they detain you until it’s here.”
Detain?My heart skittered in my chest. “Wait, what?”
“Ten minutes,” Shawn said, “perhaps fifteen at the most. It’s all a misunderstanding. You’ll be fine.” It came out sounding confident, but the worry in his eyes hinted otherwise.
“Jason was specific that I stay with you.”
His expression turned dark. “I don’t have control over that right now.”
“You come with me,Frau,” the man said.
I stared up at Shawn’s dark brown eyes that were filled with doubt. Was it safe to go with these men? What would happen if I didn’t?
“Shawn, I don’t?—”
“It’s all right. I’ll be right outside.”
The man grabbed me again, urging me forward roughly. I grabbed my coat and stumbled across the carpet toward the open door and out into the frigid afternoon.
38
LAUREL
The dark,ominous sky was fitting when I emerged from the plane and shuffled down the retractable staircase.
There were two vehicles waiting. One looked much like a police SUV that had hastily parked on the tarmac, and the other was a glistening luxury car. It looked fast and expensive, and even though I didn’t know him well, I was one hundred percent certain it was Shawn’s.
An elegant man in a suit and thick trench coat stood beside it. It wasn’t clear if he was Shawn’s assistant, security, or driver. Maybe he was all three. He watched with skepticism as the immigration officers herded me toward their SUV, followed by Shawn, who began to spew German at his employee.
The back door to the police vehicle was pulled open for me, and I stared at the interior with dread. My mind filled with hesitation, but then another official got out of the car who was either military or police. A large, menacing gun rested casually in his hands.
Everyone else acted as if this were normal and commonplace.
I took a final look at Shawn, whose conflicted expression shifted to determination. It announced he’d do everything in his power to sort this out, and that was enough to get me to climb into the back seat.
As soon as I finished buckling my seatbelt, the men got in, and I was handed a pen and a clipboard with an immigration form on it. Thankfully, it was in English.
During the final hour of the flight, I’d awoken and discussed my new identity with Shawn. I filled in the spaces I could on the form now, and my unpracticed hand signed the fake name. My breath caught when my gaze slid over the part about not falsifying the information.
The large airport loomed ahead, and in no time the car came to a halt and the clipboard was taken from me. I was led through the side door of a building, down a hallway, and into a room where a female security agent patted me down, thorough and unapologetic.
When I’d passed that evaluation, I was placed in a small room with worn, dirty gray carpet and two unforgiving metal chairs. The bare walls were white, and the only window was a thin strip of glass in the solid-looking door.
I waited in the holding room for an unknown amount of time. Definitely longer than fifteen minutes.
