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The Vatican Acts? Book Blitz

Shortly after, Yasmeen finished her call with Sharit, first-class boarded. Another round of the third degree at the gate and she was finally shown to her seat. The first-class flight attendant was Lebanese.
“Traveling can be such a trial for us these days,” she said.
The flight attendant returned with a large glass of orange juice.
“That is a beautiful niqāb!” she said, admiring the gold and lace.
“Thank you. That’s most kind and thank you for this,” motioning to the juice. “I’m famished.”
“We’ll serve dinner once we reach altitude. Enjoy your flight. I’m Nalia Khoury. Buzz me if you need anything at all.”
Yasmeen thanked her in Lebanese. Bringing smiles to both their faces. She took out a laptop and continued reading about the Scottish woman. The file was extensive. She started over at the beginning again. She frowned.
“Born 1283 AD.” she whispered.
Math was never her strong suit; lazily she used the computer’s calculator function.
Seven-hundred-forty years, nothing compared to Sharit’s two and half eons, but still impressive. she thought.
She stood suddenly, angrily turning to find a white-haired man staring at her. Yasmeen wished mightily her khopesh was at her side.
“Who is this guy?” she said to herself.
A plane was no place for a brawl. She knew.
“That explains the smirk on his face.” she said, yawning. Her privacy curtain closed. A moment later, there was a knock on her chair by the flight attendant.

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