Read Online Bittersweet Revenge by Monroe Scott - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Monroe Scott
Ads: Link
strange. Here she sat and buried Alison Stevens.
Alison left the bank and felt exhausted. She couldn’t wait to get back to her hotel room. The week was over. Alison knew it was only a matter of hours that she would hear from Eva. She had cash enough to pay her hotel bill once the message came that she was leaving.
Alison fell asleep and was awakened by a knock at the door. She was hesitant as no one had been at her door the entire week she was there. When she opened the door, the concierge presented her with a note in a sealed envelope. She thanked him and knew the time had arrived for put her plan in motion.
She phoned the desk and asked for them to prepare her bill as she would be checking out. Then she opened the envelope.
“Your order is complete. Two hours from now, same location.”
Couldn’t be more simple.
Alison looked around the room that had been “home” for a week and had no hesitation whatsoever at leaving. The room was comfortable, but it was time to go.
The front desk informed her that her bill was $780 in francs and she could pay by American Express card, if she wished. She took cash out of her new purse, counting it out to the clerk. He had a surprised look on his face but reached for the money quickly. Perhaps he thought she would change her mind and grab it back. Their business was done quickly and Alison walked out the front door to a blue cloudless sky and streets filled with tourists.
At the appointed moment, she was at the location to meet Eva. The baby was again in the stroller. They said their niceties, made goo-goo, spending some time informally as friends.
In the stroller, under the same blanket was a leather case, which Eva handed to Alison. She told Alison not to open it here and went on to explain the contents – a driver’s license from the state of Massachusetts, an American Express card, and a passport with a photo of Charla Morrison, a resident of Massachusetts. There was also a new cell phone that Eva had purchased. Eva explained that a trail was in place, never coming up empty, identity going back until Charla’s birth 42 years ago.
They agreed that if “Charla” had to get in touch with Eva, the code would be “cable car.”
They talked a few more minutes and Charla made nice again with the baby. Then they hugged and Eva was on her way.
Alison felt a very heavy $150,000 worth in her bag. She had so much to take in. “Is this how spies do it? How James Bond does it, or those in his cast of characters?” There is such a large underground business of creating documents that it’s a wonder anyone has the real stuff anymore. And if no one has a paper trail, as the FBI says, it must be crazy for agencies to figure out who is real and who is not.
She sat for awhile, checking her watch, trying to estimate again how far she was from the Zurich airport, just known as The Airport. Her flight to New York left Zurich at 7:12 p.m., to arrive at 6:23 p.m., Eastern standard time. May as well take a taxi now and sit at the airport for an extra while.
Charla took the documents from the leather case and put them into her hand bag. She had noted Eva wearing gloves when she put the leather case so Charla wanted to be as careful as she was expected to be. The transfer, if you will, was complete.
Alison was officially Charla Morrison, her own identity safely ensconced in a bank vault in Zurich, for the next year. She had phoned her parents from the Zurich airport to let them know she was safe and traveling throughout Switzerland, that she would be moving on to Austria, then Germany. Her mother asked a few times if she actually planned to be gone for a whole year. Her mother didn’t understand that there was no reason not to be. She didn’t want to understand.
Before leaving for the airport, Charla had slipped into the restroom of a local pub and put on her new blonde wig, the one that would identify her as Charla
Alison left the bank and felt exhausted. She couldn’t wait to get back to her hotel room. The week was over. Alison knew it was only a matter of hours that she would hear from Eva. She had cash enough to pay her hotel bill once the message came that she was leaving.
Alison fell asleep and was awakened by a knock at the door. She was hesitant as no one had been at her door the entire week she was there. When she opened the door, the concierge presented her with a note in a sealed envelope. She thanked him and knew the time had arrived for put her plan in motion.
She phoned the desk and asked for them to prepare her bill as she would be checking out. Then she opened the envelope.
“Your order is complete. Two hours from now, same location.”
Couldn’t be more simple.
Alison looked around the room that had been “home” for a week and had no hesitation whatsoever at leaving. The room was comfortable, but it was time to go.
The front desk informed her that her bill was $780 in francs and she could pay by American Express card, if she wished. She took cash out of her new purse, counting it out to the clerk. He had a surprised look on his face but reached for the money quickly. Perhaps he thought she would change her mind and grab it back. Their business was done quickly and Alison walked out the front door to a blue cloudless sky and streets filled with tourists.
At the appointed moment, she was at the location to meet Eva. The baby was again in the stroller. They said their niceties, made goo-goo, spending some time informally as friends.
In the stroller, under the same blanket was a leather case, which Eva handed to Alison. She told Alison not to open it here and went on to explain the contents – a driver’s license from the state of Massachusetts, an American Express card, and a passport with a photo of Charla Morrison, a resident of Massachusetts. There was also a new cell phone that Eva had purchased. Eva explained that a trail was in place, never coming up empty, identity going back until Charla’s birth 42 years ago.
They agreed that if “Charla” had to get in touch with Eva, the code would be “cable car.”
They talked a few more minutes and Charla made nice again with the baby. Then they hugged and Eva was on her way.
Alison felt a very heavy $150,000 worth in her bag. She had so much to take in. “Is this how spies do it? How James Bond does it, or those in his cast of characters?” There is such a large underground business of creating documents that it’s a wonder anyone has the real stuff anymore. And if no one has a paper trail, as the FBI says, it must be crazy for agencies to figure out who is real and who is not.
She sat for awhile, checking her watch, trying to estimate again how far she was from the Zurich airport, just known as The Airport. Her flight to New York left Zurich at 7:12 p.m., to arrive at 6:23 p.m., Eastern standard time. May as well take a taxi now and sit at the airport for an extra while.
Charla took the documents from the leather case and put them into her hand bag. She had noted Eva wearing gloves when she put the leather case so Charla wanted to be as careful as she was expected to be. The transfer, if you will, was complete.
Alison was officially Charla Morrison, her own identity safely ensconced in a bank vault in Zurich, for the next year. She had phoned her parents from the Zurich airport to let them know she was safe and traveling throughout Switzerland, that she would be moving on to Austria, then Germany. Her mother asked a few times if she actually planned to be gone for a whole year. Her mother didn’t understand that there was no reason not to be. She didn’t want to understand.
Before leaving for the airport, Charla had slipped into the restroom of a local pub and put on her new blonde wig, the one that would identify her as Charla
Similar Books
