[FULL STORY] I publicly humiliated my rich boss.
The facility was in a commercial area and mostly closed businesses at this hour. I punched in the gate code, and the gate slid open slowly, too slowly. I slipped through as soon as I could fit. Our unit was in the back corner and away from the cameras. I used the key Madison had given me months ago. The padlock was stiff from disuse, and it finally opened with a click. I rolled up the door just enough to duck inside. Madison was already there, and a small battery lantern lit the space. She had her laptop open. Her face looked grim in the harsh light. She didn’t waste time with greetings, and she showed me what she’d found. Linda had another account we missed, and a big one. In the Cayman’s, the money trail led to some concerning places, people you don’t want to owe favors to, people who solve problems permanently. And my break-in wasn’t random. It was a warning and or a first attempt. Madison had moved all her important stuff here days ago. She suspected something like this might happen and she always thinks three steps ahead. That’s why she’s still alive in this business. We spent the next hour making plans and we needed to disappear for a while. Let things cool down. We had enough evidence backed up in secure locations. The authorities had what they needed, but our part was done. Madison had cash ready and burner phones, prepaid cards, and even fake IDs. I was impressed and a little scared by her level of preparation. We decided to split up and harder to track two moving targets. We’d meet up in two weeks at a predetermined location. Until then, minimal contact and no electronic communication. Old school protocols only. And I left first. The night air felt different now, so dangerous. Every shadow could hide a threat. I walked six blocks before finding a taxi. I gave the driver an address three neighborhoods away from my actual destination. I watched out the back window the whole ride. No one seemed to be following. I paid cash and walked the remaining distance. The motel was exactly the kind of place no one asks questions. Faded sign and cracked parking lot. Weekly rates available. I registered under one of the names on the ID Madison gave me.
Paid for three nights up front. The room smelled like old cigarettes and cheap cleaner. The bed sagged in the middle and the TV only got four channels. It was perfect and no one would look for me here. I didn’t sleep much that night.
Every noise in the hallway made me jump.
Every car in the parking lot might be them. Morning came after what felt like days and I needed to keep moving.
Staying in one place too long was dangerous. I showered quickly and the water barely got warm. I put on clothes from the small bag I had grabbed during our storage unit meeting. Nothing fancy and nothing memorable. Just another face in the crowd and I checked out early.
The front desk guy barely looked up from his phone. I walked three blocks to a bus stop. took the first bus that came and didn’t matter where it was going, just needed to move, but needed to blend in. The bus was half full and regular people going to regular jobs. I envied their normal lives and their normal problems. I got off downtown, bought a cheap baseball cap at a tourist shop, found a diner with poor lighting and a back exit, ordered coffee and eggs, and watched the street through the window, no familiar faces, and no one paying too much attention. The waitress refilled my coffee without asking, and I left cash on the table, included a good tip, no reason to be memorable for being cheap.
I spent the next week moving around the city, never staying anywhere more than one night, and always paying cash.
always watching and always ready to run.
I called Madison once from a pay phone and our agreed check-in. Three rings, hang up, call back, and she answered with our code phrase. She was okay and still moving, still watching and still alive. We kept the call under 30 seconds and long enough to confirm status, not long enough to trace. And on day nine, I saw him, the doorman from my building.
He was across the street from the coffee shop where I was sitting, too far from my building to be a coincidence. He was looking at storefronts and pretending to window shop, but his eyes kept scanning the street and looking for someone, looking for me. And I left my coffee half-finish, walked out the back through the kitchen, and the staff yelled something. I ignored them and I kept moving down an alley and through a department store out another exit. And I took a subway going north, then a bus going east, and then I walked south for an hour. My feet hurt and my nerves were shot, but I was still free and still moving. I found a new motel in different part of town, different name on the registry.
