I got the phone call early in the morning. It was a voice that I hadn’t heard in ten years.
“Do you want a job?”, the voice said.
“I haven’t done anything in a while.”, I said onto the iPhone.
“You don’t forget how to do what we do. Go to the airport. There is a ticket for you at Southwest under the name Steve Harris.”, said the ghost on the other end of the line.
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I said, “Damnit, who else knows where I am?”
“Just me, I will meet you when you get here.”
Click.
Shit, I thought. I was feeling safe until now. Would the door be kicked any second?
The phone rang again. I stared at it for a second but then answered.
“No, it’s not like that. It’s a corporate thing not the other thing. Just get on the friggin’ plane.”
Click.
I exhaled. I need a drink. I grabbed a bottle of First Call and took a long pull. Corporate work could pay well. What the hell, I can do that. I grabbed a backpack and put my wash kit and some clothes. I showered and dressed then sent for a car. The last thing I grabbed was a water proof bag that was stored in the toilet tank. I pulled assorted identication cards out and chose the Steve Harris IDs. I stuffed the bag back into the tank and walked out the door. The car was waiting at the curb and I jumped in.
“Airport”, I said and the driver grunted. He jammed the car into gear and punched the gas sending us flying on our way. We arrived at he airport and I said, “Delta”. He dropped me off at the doors leading to the Delta Airline gates and I walked in to the airport. I walked what seemed like a half mile to the Southwest ticket counters.
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“I have a pre paid ticket. Steve Harris.”, I said to the ticket agent. I handed him the Texas Drivers License and he began to pound the keyboard. The printer spat out a boarding pass and he said, “Gate 12.”
I began walking toward the gate and look at the destination. Honolulu. Hawaii? WTF?
What corporation there needs a former spy? Pineapples? Bananas? Coffee?
I guess I will find out when I get there.
