Brooks pulled out his cell phone as Abigail left the kitchen. “You owe me,” he said to Bert.
* * *
Everything in place, Abigail told herself. She stood in her safe room, carefully selecting what she’d need to take this next step.
She booked the hotel rooms under two different names, at two different times, from two different computers. Brooks would check in as Lucas Boman—the name of his first Little League coach. She’d create his ID the next day. Hers, which she’d give Anson to pass to the feds once she and Brooks were checked in, set up, would be Catherine Kingston, an ID she already had in her supply. She considered her collection of wigs, her supply of hair color.
“Going as a redhead?” Brooks commented, when she lifted a short, straight bob in golden red.
“My natural color tends toward auburn. I don’t have a wig that matches my natural color.”
“Hold on.” Head angled, he studied her. “You’re a redhead?”
“Brown’s more accurate, but with reddish tones.”
“Just want to mention I’ve seen the other area on you, and it’s not brown with reddish tones.”
“It would be, but I’m thorough when I change appearance.”
“Interesting. Really interesting. Maybe you should’ve aimed for the CIA.”
“It didn’t capture my interest. I think they’ll expect me to alter my appearance somewhat for the meeting. This should be just enough, along with some slight changes with makeup, and some padding. Larger breasts.”
“You can hardly ever go wrong with larger breasts.”
“I believe my natural breasts are more than adequate.”
“Let’s see.” He cupped them, considered. “More than.”
“Obsession with breast size is as foolish as obsession with penis size.”
“I believe my natural penis is more than adequate.”
She laughed, turned toward the mirror.
“I guess you’re not going to check to make sure.”
“Perhaps later.”
She put the wig on with such quick, skillful moves he knew she’d worn one often. “It’s a change.”
He preferred her longer hair, he thought, and the less studied style.
“Yes. I can work with this. I’ll need to buy one closer to my natural color, a longer length I can style in several ways. I’ll want to look like the photos they’d have of Elizabeth, even though they’re dated. I can use contacts, change my eye color—just the tone of it—subtly. Fuller hips, larger breasts. A few shades deeper in skin tone with some self-tanner. Yes, I can work with this,” she repeated.
She took the wig off, replaced it on its stand. “Operatives in the CIA have to lie and deceive. It’s necessary, I imagine, for the tasks they perform. I’ve done a lot of lying and deceiving for the last twelve years. I’d like to have a life where lying and deception aren’t part of my every day. I can’t put all the lies away, but…”
She turned to him. “I’ll have one person who knows thetruth, who knows everything, whom I’ll never lie to. That’s a gift. You’re a gift.”
“I’ve got one person who believes in me enough to tell me the truth, to trust me with everything. That’s a gift, too.”
“Then we’re both very lucky.” She crossed to him, took his hand. “I think we should go to bed. I need to run a few tests to verify your penis is adequate.”
“Lucky for both of us I’ve always tested well.”
* * *
His cell phone rangata quarter to two in the morning. Brooks did a half-roll to the side of the bed as he reached for it.
