Help Camille Decide On A Book Cover For Her Latest Novel

This is the opening chapter to help in judging cover suitability. More covers to come soon. Leave comment below please.
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The Yellow Cab drew up in front of the Foxworth Apartment complex in Annandale, Virginia. The driver shut down the meter and turned to the man in the back seat for payment. Dr. Mahmoud Jassim pulled the fare out of his wallet and placed it in the outstretched hand. Now the driver pressed the automatic trunk opener and motioned his passenger out. The doctor stepped down to the sidewalk and removed his three pieces of luggage from the trunk. The cab drove away.
The British-born Pakistani was bedraggled, exhausted by airport hopping from country to country, beginning in Karachi, to Riyahd’s King Khalid International Airport, to London’s Heathrow where he’d spent several days in meetings, ending at Dulles International. Those moments, as he presented his visa to immigration officials, had been tense and emotionally draining. His passport was in order; still, suspicion was imprinted on the faces of the men at the immigration booth and behind the baggage search counter, leaving his tongue thick and unresponsive.

Now, baggage at his feet, he looked up at the six-story apartment complex, all brick with jutting balconies, surrounded by green lawns. On the third level, Apartment 3-606, his adopted brothers awaited.
At Mahmoud’s knock, the door opened.
"As sala'amu alaikum. Peace be upon you,” Richard Yost greeted him. Just behind him, Dr. Khalid Amin echoed the greeting. “Walaikum as sala'am. And unto you also, peace.
Richard Yost, a recent British immigrant to the United States, ushered him into the two-bedroom apartment. The three men embraced.
“Allah’s blessing and salutations be upon you,” Richard said. “I have prepared for you.”
It was sparse, with just the minimal rented furniture – a wrap-around couch long past its factory issue, single folding chair; long, badly scratched coffee table; two desks, each outfitted with computer and telephone. The doctors’ assigned bedroom held a bunk-bed and single.
“This is temporary,” Richard explained.
In the small kitchen, his Pakistani wife, Shamshad, was preparing their meal – a meatless curry dish combined with eggplant, okra and potatoes. Slim and willowy, she wore a long tunic and baggy pants with a colorful scarf draped around her neck. She nodded a timid greeting to her husband’s new guest. Khalid Amin had arrived ten days earlier.
“Brothers,” Richard said to the two men. “Finally, we are gathered as one. Rest, recompose yourselves. Tonight we will eat and pray. Tomorrow we will talk.
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