It was almost a dare. The passports. Complete except for a picture. I held them up to the light in the bathroom and saw all of the security foils and lines and compared them to my own passport. These we good. Very good. And I suspect pricey but then again I don’t think money was an issue.
And then it dawned on me. I am being tracked. Somehow. Listened to perhaps. My phone? The briefcase? Maybe the coat? Cameras in the hotel room? I took out a hotel notepad and wrote “we are leaving now and I am going to move all the money and gun to your backpack.”
I took my phone and dropped it into the empty briefcase and left it on the table. Did the same with Pamela’s phone. Left the coat in the closet. Turned on the TV. Then Pamela and I left quietly and walked down 20 flights of stairs to the tunnel under the Sheraton, walked to the subway station, and jumped on.
“Let’s open the envelope. See what they want.” Pamela ripped open the envelope like an animal.
“It’s the end of the road.” Perfect hand writing. Looked like a woman wrote it since most guys write like serial killers. “Not sure about you but I feel good about this message. Maybe they’ll leave us alone now. Well either that or kill us. But they’ll have to find us first.” Pamela held my hand and tightened her grip.
“Well that is an interesting note indeed. And Pamela, this note is personal. It’s the end of the road is what is written on my dad’s cemetery plot. Was a bit of a joke when he was dying. His plot was..well..at the end of the road. So it was doubly funny. The guy at the cemetery thought I was joking. But I was not.”
“How in the world do they know this stuff?” Pamela looked perplexed.
“Easy. My phone has a photo of the plot. They hacked my phone somehow. And my suspicion that they were tracking us has now been confirmed. And now we are on the run! They are not going to be happy campers. Oh and I didn’t tell you where we were going. It’ll be a surprise when we get there.”