Sam politely took it begrudgingly. A little twinge of guilt that he would shatter any expectations she had. Sam made his way through the terminal towards passport control, his eyes gazing at the armed security officers who patrolled the area. With the horrific history of terrorism that haunted the city of New York, Sam understood the need for them to be on high alert. Calmly, he approached the booth as he was called and handed his passport to a large woman who glared at him through her spectacles.

‘Reason for travelling to New York, sir?’ she asked with a heavy accent. Sam knew she was staring at his bruises, trying her best to guess their reason. With a smile, he obliged her.

‘I was in a car accident.’ He motioned to his face.

‘I see,’ she responded sceptically. ‘Reason for travel?’

‘I’m here to visit an old friend.’

The woman took a few more glances back and forth from passport to person before closing it and passing it back.

‘Enjoy your stay, Mr Cooper.’

‘Thank you.’

Sam offered her a smile which wasn’t reciprocated and then marched through towards the baggage claim section of the airport. Already, throngs of agitated passengers were huddled around the conveyor belt, impatiently awaiting their luggage to continue their voyage. Sam strode past, walking through customs and out into the main terminal. Weaving his way through the throngs of waiting family members and drivers holding signs, Sam made his way to the food court area, choosing the booth with the smallest queue, and placed his order. A couple of minutes later, the young man behind the counter handed him his bagel and coffee and wished him a nice day. Sam nodded his thanks and walked through the terminal, stopping at a clothes shop. Having travelled with no luggage, Sam quickly demolished his snack and entered the store. Never one for fashion, Sam headed straight for the T-shirts, selecting five black T-shirts in his size and a navy bomber jacket. A few multipacks of underwear and socks, a pair of jeans and a rucksack, and Sam was good to go.

The young shop assistant helpfully bagged the new clothes into the rucksack, and Sam tapped in his pin number.

Four-four-four-four.

Silently, Sam cursed Etheridge for mockingly making the number so simple. Considering the incredible generosity of the man, Sam chuckled to himself as he agreed to let it slide.