“What’s behind door number two?” crossed my mind as I slowly turn the doorknob.
Cautiously I peered inside the room. Fumbling for the light switch, a slight breeze blew across my cheek. The wearied bulb from a slow moving ceiling fan cast a soft yellow glow over the bed. Amenities were few, no Bible on the nightstand.
His message said to meet him here. I glanced at my watch. Soon.
Setting my bag on the floor, I gingerly sat on the bed. The down comforter muffled the creaking springs. A tender spot on my backside reminded me of the night spent in the woods. I certainly earned my merit patch for camping.
I got up and crossed the room to see if he had arrived. The window afforded a dirt-streaked view of the deserted beach. Only a few cars in the parking lot and they had been there all night. Perfect for our rendezvous.
My visit to this country has been uneventful so far. Arriving on time, I stowed my precious ‘luggage’ in the boot of the car and took off. The scenic landscape soothed any qualms I may have had. The Gospel is not to be hindered. The books were well hidden within the cases.
A commotion in the parking lot drew my gaze. Several police cars scurried into the lot. Uniformed officers emerged and made their way into the hostel. I turned from the window and hurried over to my bag.
I could hear the pounding footsteps coming up the stairs and down the corridor. My door burst open and they entered. “Passport! Passport!” they shouted. I tried to reach into my bag but an officer grabbed my hand. He threw my bag to the one dressed in a suit near the door.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” He proceeded to paw through my papers and wallet. “I see you arrived in this country two days ago. The manager said you signed in this morning. How did you get here?”
My mind searched for the proper tone and answer. “I’ve been sightseeing. My car broke down, so I walked.”
He looked at me with piercing black eyes. I refused to look away. How well he plays the part.
“There’s nothing else here,” the younger officer exclaimed after searching the room.
“Quiet! I had a report to watch out for a woman of your age and nationality. Since you’re under suspicion of bringing contraband into this country, we have no choice but to escort you to a ship that is leaving tonight.”
“No! I want to speak to my embassy. I have rights.” I hoped I sounded adamant enough for the benefit of the other officers.
“You have no rights and your embassy isn’t here.” Replacing her papers in the bag he tossed it to an officer. “Arrest her and be sure she gets to the docks. I’ll go myself and look for the car.”
With cuffed wrists, they led me to the patrol car and shoved me in the back. Sirens and lights blazing, we sped away from the retreat. Thirty minutes later, placed in a cabin on the ship, I headed home.
At the Captain’s table for dinner and dressed in my un-crushable evening gown, he questioned, “Madame, did you enjoy your trip to the country?”
“Oh, yes. Such lovely scenery.” I removed my compact from my bag and repaired my makeup.
“What is your profession, Madame?”
“Oh, I’m in sales.”
Replacing the compact, my hand touched the postcard. In my mind, I read it again. “Car already found. Luggage delivered. Prisoners freed. Bon Voyage, Maxx.”
Mistaking the joy on my face as one of romantic excitement, the Captain replied, “Perhaps, some night we might share an intimate dinner?”
If he only knew…I have ‘food’ that he knows not.
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