My grandfather lied to my grandmother. I guess it runs in the family. “It’s a work conference,” I said to my husband, as he sat on the bed watching me pack. “Nothing you’d find interesting.” It’s cliche, but these conferences make perfect cover.
“But outside the conference -“
I held up my hand. “Outside the conference is networking, special sessions, and little sleep.” I kissed him on the cheek. “You would be twiddling your thumbs bored.”
He crossed his arms and laid back on the bed with a thump. After I finished packing for the conference, we had a light lunch and I was off. My coworker Jerry picked me up to go to the airport. The lie included that he was travelling to the same conference.
We got two blocks before he pulled over. “Check the back seat,” Jerry said. I looked and found a briefcase full of cash, a folder, a slinky dress and purse, and expensive jewellery. “We’re headed to Twin Tiger Casino, where you’ll make an impression on this man,” he said. He handed me a photo from his pocket. “His name is Esteban Montigo. He’s a rich lobbyist who’s been getting kickbacks for selling secrets to bad guys.”
“What do I do once I have his attention?”
“Get him alone, and end him, Grampa style.” I rolled my eyes, wishing Jerry had never found that my grandfather had also been a secret agent. “Make it look like a deal gone bad. Plant this,” Jerry handed me a USB key. “It’s state secrets that are already on the market.”
By the time we reached the casino, I had changed into the dress and absorbed the brief on my target. “Wish me luck,” I said as I exited the car with briefcase in hand.
The casino was brilliant and loud. I took it all in as I exchanged my cash for chips. I located exits, pinch points, security, and clusters of people who could be good chaotic cover. I found Esteban playing craps. I didn’t want to be too bold, so parked myself at a nearby roulette wheel and placed minimal bets.
I made sure he noticed me. Before long I saw him stealing glances my way. I feigned boredom, collected my chips, and walked his way. As I passed, he shoved dice in my face. “For luck!” he said. I smiled, and blew a soft breeze across the dice.
Esteban tossed the dice across the table. The stickman shouted “Seven!” and raked the winnings to the players. Handing the dice back to Esteban, the stickman announced “Place your bets.” This was my cue.
“How do I play?” I asked Esteban. He grinned and instructed where I should place chips on the table for different bets. I pretended to be dumb, even though I could see he was leading me to lose all my money. We were drinking champagne and losing our shirts.
Once my money had run out, Esteban invited me up to his room. I declined but let him convince me. It wasn’t long before we reached his suite and he locked the door behind us. “Now my sweet -” I kicked him in the groin and wrapped the strap of my small purse around his neck. Climbing on his back for extra leverage, I pulled the strap tight. He collapsed to the floor and thrashed for a while but soon blacked out. I kept the pressure on till I knew he wouldn’t be getting up again.
It took a few minutes to set the scene and plant the USB key. Once satisfied with the arrangement, I opened the door to leave.
There was my husband, standing with his arms crossed in the hallway. “I followed you and Jerry here,” he said, “only to find you pawing over another man. And now you’re creeping from his hotel room! Wait, is he dead?”
Another writing exercise, this time starting with the prompt “My grandfather lied to my grandmother. I guess it runs in the family.” My initial thoughts were affair, or spy. I decided to go with the less depressing option. As the protagonist climbed into the car with Jerry, I pulled the non-sequitur “We were drinking champagne and losing our shirts”. Again steering towards affair, but I decided to take the story to a casino where shirts could be lost metaphorically.