Alexander’s car had changed before he ever arrived at the airport.  Instead of the sports car he had been driving; now he was arriving in a silver-grey CX-7 SUV from Nissan…of which there must have been a hundred of in the immediate area.  His hair had been dyed a scarlet color, and the style changed up just a bit.  Dark green contacts were now in place to ensure his eye color was completely different from the dark blues he was born with.  Neither of these choices were ones he had made in the past.  In fact, he had never driven an SUV before…they were not his style, but he had to be different now…his life depended on it.  The black fatigues he had worn for the mission had been exchanged for a nice simple business suit to blend in with the many business people he would soon see at the airport.  He had already replaced his travel documents with the ones he had hoped to never use…the ones from Morgaine…a woman whose identity and purpose were still a complete mystery to almost the entire international intelligence community.  The CIA had no record of this passport, or his new identity…it not being one of his many different aliases.<br/><br/>Thus, the agent arrived at the parking garage smoothly, and smoothly exited his new vehicle while snagging his messenger bag and a duffel from the back.  He was no longer armed except with his wits and talents in Wing Chun.  To enter the airport armed any other way would have caused delays and obstacles he could not afford.  Once inside, he headed for E Terminal for British Airways.  He didn’t bother to look around…for the agent caught every detail as he approached the kiosk to acquire his ticket.  His gait suggested that of a dancer, relaxed, poised, and professional.  Smoothly, out came his travel information and ID, and the young woman behind the counter took it with a smile.<br/><br/>“Ah, Mr. Sheridan.  I see you are off to London, Sir.  Business or pleasure?” the young woman said with a hint of warmth in her voice as she typed in his information.<br/><br/>“You might say a bit of both.  I have a few lectures to give on some theories of Time and Space,” Arthur Sheridan explained with a smile of his own.  Even his voice was no longer quite the same…richer and deeper it was.<br/><br/>“Interesting,” the woman, whose name tag read as Heather, confessed genuinely.  “Are you with NASA?”<br/><br/>“Hardly, Ms. Heather.  Simply a professor of such theories from UTA.  I was selected by the President of the University for this trip…quite an honor, actually,” Arthur noted as he pushed up glasses a bit.<br/><br/>“Well, I hope you enjoy your stay in London, Mr. Sheridan,” Heather said, and nodded for him to take his ticket.  Arthur did so with a wink at her, and collected his bags that had been checked in…the messenger one being allowed as his carry-on.<br/><br/>“Have a beautiful day, Ms. Heather,” Arthur told her, and then he was off to deal with the TSA officers at the checkpoint.<br/><br/>Within the hour, Arthur Sheridan:  Professor of Temporal Theories at UTA boarded British Airways Flight L157 bound for London Heathrow with no stops along the way.  As he sat staring out at the sky; Arthur wondered what was really going on…