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Mike Dixon

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CHAPTER 2<br />

Suitcase<br />

17 January 2002<br />

wenty-year-old David Paget sat in the departure<br />

T lounge of New York‟s JFK International Airport beside<br />

thirty-five-year-old Sue Lynne. They looked an unlikely<br />

pair: David in torn denims, Sue Lynne in a smart business<br />

suit. A casual observer might have mistaken them for a lawyer<br />

and her client, a sporting personality perhaps. The<br />

young man radiated health and vitality: tall and muscular in<br />

his tight-fitting T-shirt and tattered jeans. Girls at a neigh-<br />

boring table couldn‟t take their eyes off him.<br />

Sue Lynne cast a disapproving eye at the young ladies<br />

and opened a plastic folder. She was a slim woman of Asian<br />

appearance with pale skin and a delicate bone structure. It<br />

wasn‟t difficult to imagine that she had once been vey beautiful.<br />

But her natural good looks were marred by a tenseness<br />

of expression that suggested a recent illness. She glanced<br />

nervously at her watch.<br />

2

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