Ficly

Amsterdam

We got on the plane without any problems unfortunately. I looked at the info at the gate. I was heading to Amsterdam. I should have known. I’d lived there a couple of years when I was younger and managed to avoid the bad parts but it looked like I wouldn’t be able to anymore.

I still don’t know how you managed to get on the plane without them recognising you Becks

Me neither Zeke, me neither.

We arrived in Amsterdam around 9:00am local time. At the arrival gate, Mark and Eddie scanned the crowds, many of whom held pieces of paper with who they were collecting on them. Eventually they spotted who they were looking for. They walked me over to a man holding a red piece of paper with black lettering on it reading Mr. Black. Great cover I thought wearily.

We were escorted to a large limousine that was waiting outside the airport. Schipol, I recalled was what the airport was named. Just 20 minutes from the centre of Amsterdam. The four of us got into the back of the limo. ‘Mr Black’ surveyed me. “She’ll do”

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