All eyes turned to the entrance of the lounge as the Security Guard ducked under the doorway. His stride was steady as he walked towards the other end of the room, but the muscles of his massive torso were tensed underneath his trim black Vegas Trips Incorporated uniform. As he stood in a small alcove at one end of the room, he blended in with the shadows, almost invisible except for the glint of a simple gold cross hung around his sinewy neck. His alert stance and watchful features bespoke his military training, as did the casual ease with which his hand rested on the Beretta at his side. However, despite his outward composure, the shadows of a hard life lingered in his steely gray-green eyes. Locked in those eyes were the memories of greater tragedy than most of the pilgrims had ever imagined.
As the families of some of the travelers arrived to say goodbye, a sad expression crossed the Security Guard’s face. He had lost his father to a gunshot woun