Charlotte
The clammy chill of the concrete claws at me…
Anger helps, heating me inside…
But I have to get off the naked ground…
Stretching out against the chain, now fumbling out in the other direction… My swollen stomach won’t allow me to lie flat down… I twist…
Then, reaching with my left hand as the metal cuff bites into my right ankle; with the bare tip of my fingernails, I snag the edge of one of the cardboard boxes. It moves only slowly, the contents weighing it down.
What’s inside?
I try again, digging in with my nails, trying to bite into the semi-hard surface. I find myself envying the long nails of my ‘cousin’; Beth; her hands soft and white, the nails elegant… painted and shaped… sharp…
My stubby excuses-for-nails barely make an imprint on the tough cardboard.
Breathe…
Don’t panic…
Try again…
*****
Klempner
The hotel is cheap and unremarkable. The kind in fact where they rent rooms by the hour and don’t ask for your ID. Well off the central tourist areas, it is manned by the kind of indifferent staff who don’t even look up as they book me in.
Overnight. Cash in advance.
“I’m expecting a delivery.”
“It will be waiting for you there.” She jerks her head to the pigeon-holes behind her. “I’m off in two hours.”
*****
And I settle in to lie low for a few hours. No one is going to look here. Stretched out on the bed with a plate of the local street-food…
… Hmmm… chilli crab and noodles…
Pretty good…
Despite Raylai’s faux pas, everything is nicely under control. I’ll simply be wearing a different face as I move on…
…all I have to do is keep my head down and watch re-runs of ‘I Love Lucy.’ while Dahko works his magic.
Sipping a beer, enjoying my crab noodles, I chuckle over Lucille Ball wrapping chocolates…
…
…
Later…
A good night’s sleep, then see what tomorrow brings…
Drifting in the hinterland to sleep, my mind roams, travelling well-worn roads…
Green eyes…
You, under me, your body moving with mine…
You want me…
Your pale skin. So smooth. And framed by a sea of copper hair which surrounds you like the aura of an angel.
Breasts tipped by gold which stiffen between my lips as I suckle you.
The sweet scent of you. The muskiness as I slip down…
The taste of you…
The tremble that shivers through your flesh as I kiss your sex…
Come for me…
Really come for me…
My gift to you…
And yours to me…
And your cry…
Your hips raising as you offer yourself to me…
The growing shudder…
Joy and laughter as you climax…
And you cry out my name…
…
…
Something jolts me awake.
My phone is ringing.
What the hell…?
My phone is ringing.
My phone never rings.
No one has this number.
No one.
I tap into the flashing screen, then listen to the message…
… and go cold at what I hear.
Moments later I’m scrambling off the bed and already tapping into the other phone when it flashes to life. It’s Dakho.
“Larry, that ID you asked about. Whitlam. They’ve made the connection to Gunnar Zetterberg.”
Fuck!
“Dakho, I’ve got an emergency on my hands. I have to get off Singapore and out.”
“Well, don’t do it as Whitlam or Zetterberg, Larry. They’ll pick you up at any check you go through. You’re in the technologically most connected and sophisticated city in the world. You’re going to have to be careful with the new ID too. They have facial recognition installed at the airport there. Even with a new identity, if they know they’re looking for you…”
“Dakho … I’ve got to get out of here…”
“You’re on an island, Larry. Hope you can swim.” He chuckles. “I’ll get on with these documents for you. I’ll let you know when they’re ready. You decide what you want me to do with them.”
The connection cuts.
An island…
Where’s nearest?
Malaysia?
How far?
A quick internet search… 234 miles…
Crap…
Hire a boat?
Bound to ask for ID…
There’s got to be a way out… Maritime capital of the world…
Who’d be bribable?
*****