Bittersweet Revenge (7 page)

The last thing Alison did before crashing on the couch to watch television was to make a plane reservation for Zurich. One week from today she would be on her way. 

Chapter Twelve 

In spite of leaving San Francisco almost an hour late, the plane landed in Zurich within ten minutes of its scheduled arrival time. It had been a long time since Alison had taken the red-eye and she knew she would be pretty tired most of the day. But she didn’t have to rush, not going anywhere until the next day, Monday.

A taxi took her to the Hotel Villette where she rested and made herself comfortable until receiving the phone call she was waiting for. The instructions were simple, wear a white flower in her hair and sit in a booth on the left side of the pub next to the hotel. The contact would find her. 

Allison’s room was very feminine, the kind one actually needs at times to wrap herself up in, like a soft blanket. It had wicker furniture and photos on the walls of women hugging their children under various circumstances – winning sporting events, with small animals, giving birth.

Her German was rough and she was concerned about communicating but decided she would get through it and ask for help if she needed it. Her money belt was secure on her body when she walked into the ZeigerHut at noon the next day. The flower she’d purchased from the cart in front of the hotel fit into the side of her hair and she quickly forgot it was there. 

Alison had a leisurely lunch of a cheese and mushroom omelet and beer, then began to get restless, wondering if she’d made a mistake. A few minutes later, the waiter handed her a slip of paper. She read it, quickly paid her bill, and walked out the front door into the public square.  At that moment, a tall blonde woman pushing a baby carriage bumped into her.

“Madame, please sit at the bench with me and make nice to my baby. Emil sent me. My name is Eva Schilling and I have the information you need.” 

Alison was taken aback for a moment, surprised at the subterfuge in spite of realizing that’s how she wanted the encounter to happen. She turned to look at the woman, they made eye contact, and Alison bent over to do the goo goo exclamation with the baby.

Eva pointed to the bench where they both sat down and began their conversation. 

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to seem rude, just had no idea if I’d be contacted by a man or woman, kind of like a spy movie.” Alison giggled, knowing she sounded like an idiot.

Eva laughed. “I understand. But I had to be sure it was you and not have any confusion. So that you know, Emil is my cousin. He trusts you with his life, so I have no reason to not trust you with mine. But he could not tell you about me so as to not jeopardize me in any way. I’m sure you understand.” 

Alison looked at her directly and smiled.

“Of course I understand. But I’ve never done anything like this and also had to be cautious. We are good.” Alison reached to touch her hand and assure Eva that everything was fine.

They discussed the details of what Alison needed, identification that could be traced so that she did not come up a blank should it ever come to that, with the proper papers to travel throughout Europe and confirm her identity – passport, visa where needed, birth certificate, and an American Express card. Eva told her it would take one week and the delivery could be made in person. She also told Alison to be prepared to have only her new identity on her at that time.

Alison knew that meant she had to bury her papers in a safe deposit box before picking up the new ones from Eva at the given time. She also had to be prepared to leave Zurich at that time and not go back to the hotel; that she would be assuming a new identity that must coincide with the photo on the papers.

As Alison played with the baby in the carriage, she slipped the leather case that held $150,000 American dollars into the blanket. Eva knew it was safely nestled into the folds of the blanket. 

Alison asked Eva about places she should visit while in Zurich, suggestions as to what to see, where to eat, what to avoid. They chatted for twenty minutes or so, then Eva said she had to leave and would be in touch one week later. More fussy over the baby and Eva and child were gone.

The days dragged by as Alison was not used to waiting for someone let alone play tourist and act busy. She wandered through all the museums and ate little meals all over the city rather than just going out for lunch or dinner. It was a beautiful time to be in Switzerland and nothing could keep her from enjoying people watching. 

Chapter Thirteen

Finally she entered the Bank of Zurich to get a safe deposit box and leave the identity of Alison in that long steel container for the next year. She presented her identification and bank accounts from San Francisco. The charge was 24 francs. A small amount for what was necessary. She then followed the banker into the vault and was presented to box 171, up a few rows, but she and the banker were both tall enough. The box was put on the table, the banker left, but first handed Alison her key.

Alison sat at the table and looked over the contents of the small briefcase she’d brought with her. Her California driver’s license and U. S. passport. A visa to Switzerland wasn’t needed, so one less thing to worry about. She also had $10,000 in U.S. dollars that she’d decided to put in the box just in case she was met with a shortage of money. She turned off her cell phone and put it in the box as well.

  She felt strange. Here she sat and buried Alison Stevens.

Alison left the bank and felt exhausted. She couldn’t wait to get back to her hotel room. The week was over. Alison knew it was only a matter of hours that she would hear from Eva. She had cash enough to pay her hotel bill once the message came that she was leaving.

Alison fell asleep and was awakened by a knock at the door. She was hesitant as no one had been at her door the entire week she was there. When she opened the door, the concierge presented her with a note in a sealed envelope. She thanked him and knew the time had arrived for put her plan in motion.

She phoned the desk and asked for them to prepare her bill as she would be checking out. Then she opened the envelope.

“Your order is complete. Two hours from now, same location.”

Couldn’t be more simple.

Alison looked around the room that had been “home” for a week and had no hesitation whatsoever at leaving. The room was comfortable, but it was time to go.

The front desk informed her that her bill was $780 in francs and she could pay by American Express card, if she wished. She took cash out of her new purse, counting it out to the clerk. He had a surprised look on his face but reached for the money quickly. Perhaps he thought she would change her mind and grab it back. Their business was done quickly and Alison walked out the front door to a blue cloudless sky and streets filled with tourists.

At the appointed moment, she was at the location to meet Eva. The baby was again in the stroller. They said their niceties, made goo-goo, spending some time informally as friends.

In the stroller, under the same blanket was a leather case, which Eva handed to Alison.  She told Alison not to open it here and went on to explain the contents – a driver’s license from the state of Massachusetts, an American Express card, and a passport with a photo of Charla Morrison, a resident of Massachusetts. There was also a new cell phone that Eva had purchased. Eva explained that a trail was in place, never coming up empty, identity going back until Charla’s birth 42 years ago.

They agreed that if “Charla” had to get in touch with Eva, the code would be “cable car.”

They talked a few more minutes and Charla made nice again with the baby. Then they hugged and Eva was on her way.

Alison felt a very heavy $150,000 worth in her bag. She had so much to take in. “Is this how spies do it? How James Bond does it, or those in his cast of characters?” There is such a large underground business of creating documents that it’s a wonder anyone has the real stuff anymore. And if no one has a paper trail, as the FBI says, it must be crazy for agencies to figure out who is real and who is not.

She sat for awhile, checking her watch, trying to estimate again how far she was from the Zurich airport, just known as The Airport. Her flight to New York left Zurich at 7:12 p.m., to arrive at 6:23 p.m., Eastern standard time. May as well take a taxi now and sit at the airport for an extra while.

Charla took the documents from the leather case and put them into her hand bag. She had noted Eva wearing gloves when she put the leather case so Charla wanted to be as careful as she was expected to be. The transfer, if you will, was complete. 

Alison was officially Charla Morrison, her own identity safely ensconced in a bank vault in Zurich, for the next year. She had phoned her parents from the Zurich airport to let them know she was safe and traveling throughout Switzerland, that she would be moving on to Austria, then Germany. Her mother asked a few times if she actually planned to be gone for a whole year. Her mother didn’t understand that there was no reason not to be. She didn’t want to understand.

Before leaving for the airport, Charla had slipped into the restroom of a local pub and put on her new blonde wig, the one that would identify her as Charla Morrison. She put in her new contact lenses and stared at her blue eyes for a moment. She’d never really looked at her eyes before. Hazel is just a normal color, not one that ever struck people as deep blue eyes did. 

She boarded the plane in Zurich, showing her passport as required, and found her way to the second row in first class. She had decided long ago that she would always go first class, no more being squeezed into a seat next to a crying toddler or half drunk 6 foot tall guy who wanted to be her best friend.

Her seat was row two, next to the window. She took off her jacket and made herself comfortable. It was another 40 minutes until the plane finally took off and she was on her way home.

Well, not really “home,” at least not for another year, but at least on United States soil. She sat back and was asleep within a few minutes, the frenzy of the last week finally getting to her. The worst part was that she was always afraid of making a mistake. Of course, that’s how she would have to live for the next year – not making a mistake.

Charla slept the entire trip to New York. She liked that as it kept her from having any dialog with a flight attendant. There it was, the Statue of Liberty, and approach to John F. Kennedy airport. Charla felt tears running down her face. She had not expected that reaction. Wiping her face and fluffing her hair was about all she could bring herself to do before landing.

It was not a smooth landing, but they were finally down and pulling to the gate. As Charla exited the plane, she was reminded again by the policy of signs with names on them for those who were being met at the airport. Charla was not. She was no one important.

She waited for her luggage, which took almost an hour. Customs was always such a chore, people snooping through her panties. She was certainly familiar with landing in New York and just had to put up with it.

Charla hailed a taxi to the Belvedere Hotel on W. 48th Street, just above mid town and in the theatre district. Perfect for the few days she planned to stay in New York. She’d stayed there before and $250 a day was worth it.

At least Charla was not tired. She had a great night’s sleep and was ready to hit the bricks of New York City. She checked into the hotel, staff viewing her passport and driver’s license, using an American Express card for her charges.

She headed over toward the theatres to see what tickets she could get, but decided first that she needed breakfast. Passing by Armando’s, it looked like just where she wanted to eat. 

Over the next four days, Charla slept, ate, shopped, and in general thought nothing of the next part of her life. And then came the time when she had to go back to reality. It was time for the flight to Boston. She made arrangements for a flight into Logan, the best schedule with American Airlines. It didn’t take long to check out of the hotel. She had one bag more than when she arrived from Zurich, which was not bad for a woman with unlimited time and funds.

She had a reservation for two nights at The Lenox Hotel and the realtor she’d contacted was sure she would have an apartment within the two days, especially when money was no object.

Chapter Fourteen

The landing at Boston’s Logan airport was uneventful. Charla looked good and rested, a tall blonde, simply made up and dressed as the career woman she was. After settling into her hotel room, she put her walking shoes on, a necessity, much like in San Francisco. She wasn’t far from Filene’s basement, so headed out the door. As she was nearing Filene’s, she received a phone call from the realtor advising her of a furnished apartment available now, meaning NOW as emphasized by the owner who was leaving for Europe. Rent was $3,000 a month but the building had amenities such as a gym, parking spot, free guest apartments for up to one week. She talked them into a rent of $2500 a month since she would sign a lease for one year and pay cash for the entire year. She had nothing to buy; the place had everything she needed in every room.

She signed the papers, wrote a check, waited for them to verify the check and everything else, and Charla Morrison was wished good luck in her new home. 

They all said goodbye and she left with the promise she would stay in touch. She got a taxi and went to her new home. She was excited about living in Back Bay, an area she had visited as it was being constructed. She would be at 175 Newbury Street, above a small museum, with only three other units in the building. She would have preferred a larger building, but this turned out to be the best choice.