Chapter 4

Joel Barkam, the customs officer at the Bogota, Columbia airport looked up at the American woman with his face betraying his irritation. He was under a lot of pressure. Because it was the height of the tourist season he was supposed to be friendly and polite to all visitors but at the same time he was expected to make sure that all passports were in order and that nobody tried to smuggle anything in or out of the country. To make things even more difficult, a flare up of rebel activity was causing havoc.

Barkham thought that it would put a dent in the tourist industry but it didn’t. Tourists kept flocking to the country despite the warnings of a possible civil war. That was all because the government, which didn’t want to lose the millions visitors spent in Columbia, kept assuring everybody that everything was under control.

Now, he was frustrated dealing with a stupid American woman. Her name was Lenore Hugan. Height, weight and age seemed to coincide with the details on her passport and visa so that was okay. It was her face that gave him a problem. She had mousy, thick brown hair cut in a style that might have popular twenty years ago. She wore glasses with thick, black frames that made her look totally nerdish and bookish. He tried to compare her face with the photo on her passport but although there was a passable resemblance, it was barely enough to satisfy him.

Normally this would have been his cue to ask her a few more detailed questions about where she would be staying in Bogota, the nature of her trip and if she knew anybody in the city. Unfortunately he had already gotten his fill of that. The damn woman was so irritating. She kept up an incessant chatter right in his ear and wouldn’t keep still long enough for him to properly assess her. She didn’t have the slightest concern about his job. If she wasn’t persistently asking him about some ancient ruins located outside the city, she was shoving a portion of an unfolded map into his face and asking him to point them out to her.

How the hell was he supposed to know about the damned ruins? He wasn’t some tourist guide he was a passport control officer, a job he took very seriously. He was so annoyed with the woman he was tempted to hurry her through just to get rid of her. However, he continued to try and do his job properly.

“Occupation?” he asked.

“School teacher. You know, I teach history at Sacramento High? I also teach earth sciences like geography and archeology. They’re real hobbies of mine too. That’s why I’m so interested in seeing those ruins. You sure they’re still accessible from this road here? And the rebels won’t bother us?”

She immediately tried to point out a place on her map again while babbling on about how she’d saved for years for this trip.

Joel wanted to scream in irritation. Every time he asked the American a question he couldn’t get a straight forward answer. Instead, he got a fucking 15 minute explanation or a lesson in geography. Also, she didn’t seem to care there was now a growing line up of irritated travellers behind her. This meant his supervisor would soon be along to check on the delay and he would probably catch shit as a result, even though it wasn’t his fault.

“Length of stay?” he stoically continued.

“One week, or eh ... possibly two? ... You see, it all depends on how much ruins there are to see. I’ve heard that even though many of the sites have been ram-sacked and looted throughout the years there is still plenty to see so I might stay the full length of time. My visa says actually says 21 days, I think, so you know so maybe I might stay the full time.” The woman managed to get it all out without even stopping to take a breath.

Joel cursed again under his breath and shuddered in disgust. Another long winded answer which in the end, told him nothing. He glanced down at her visa and then at a long line of disgruntled arrivals. It did say a maximum 21 day visit but the bird brain woman didn’t even know how long she’d be in the country. He desperately wanted to shove her along just to get rid of her but he persisted in doing his job.

“Any other places you intend on visiting while you’re in our country?”

Lenore Hugan looked at him for a moment as if she were puzzled by his question but then finally she spoke.

“Other places? Well I heard of a couple of other ruins outside the city and if I have time I may tour them too. There’s this one in particular I might also be interested in.” Before Joel could stop her she had the map unfolded again, had managed to shove it into his face, and was trying to show him some other site.

Joel finally had enough. He’d done his best. He’d compared face to photo and asked the proper questions. That was his job and he’d done it. Now it was somebody else’s turn to handle the stupid bitch. Besides, how could she possibly be a threat to the country? The dip stick dame would probably be unable to find the ruins by herself. He pitied the poor tour guide that ended up with her.

He quickly stamped her passport and visa and watched her walk away with a huge sigh of relief. The last sight he had of her was when she ambled off pulling a huge suitcase on wheels behind her while trying to cope with the extra-large travel bag slung across her shoulders. Joel immediately forgot about Lenore Hugan and turned to the next customer. He gave him the customary smile and welcome to Columbia greeting, along with the mandatory assurances that it was perfectly safe, despite the rebels. Then he apologized for the delay. Within minutes the irritating woman was entirely out of his mind.

The first thing Danni noticed when she stepped outside the airport terminal was the stifling heat. The sun beat down unmercifully and the humidity was very high. Within moments of leaving the terminal she was sweating. It ran down her face, back and arm pits in rivulets making her so uncomfortable she promised herself she was going to make this assignment as quick as possible. She’d even leave tonight with a different passport if she could retrieve the documents and valuables quick enough.