He did not have to.
Marco stood six-foot-two, broad through the shoulders, still dressed in the dark service uniform he had traveled in following our official assignment. Twenty years in uniform had taught him how to stand in an entrance and make it seem like a closed gate.
“Move,” the woman demanded.
Marco stayed completely still.
“Ma’am, airport security asked you to remain here.”
“My plane is leaving.”
“Your plane is no longer your biggest concern.”
The terminal had become strangely quiet around us.
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