Terminal 3

For thirty-one years, Lone Krogh has stood at the head of a jet bridge in Copenhagen and read the faces going by, watching, as she puts it, for the trouble that has not yet declared itself. Three weeks before the airline retires her, the fortieth passenger to the evening flight to Lisbon hands her his boarding pass, and she cannot breathe. She knows the face. She last saw it on the deck of a burni...