Guiseppe Nannini waited in line at Customs at the international airport in Scandigrad City. His papers were in order, and his valise was packed with the obligatory travel brochure for the old capital of Bana. He had a couple of Speedos for the beach, and he was certain that the agent in the booth at the head of the line would see him as just another tourist. He glanced again at the return ticket on Royal Alunyan Airlines -- Flight 320, returning to Ronronne, in two weeks' time. Just another vacationer...
In his line of business, vacation was a very useful concept. He was assured by the contact that private access to a machine shop could be guaranteed, and that a gun drill would be available. Official security agencies always screened international passengers closely for weapons and contraband. Those checks were best avoided by making the necessary weapons in situ. There wasn't anything in his past that indicated that he wasn't anything but an antiquarian bookseller from Kittipurranamnam.
The line shuffled forward just a bit. An old woman was fussing at having to empty out her purse. A tube of lipstick and a tampon clattered onto the cold tile floor. Guiseppe smiled with amusement as the hag quickly snatched up the personal hygiene device -- the lipstick rolled under the booth.
