Wednesday, April 19, 2023

230419 The Lost Years Part 2

Mobility is the key to survival.

Since the 2:30 knock at my door I have been on the move. A moving target is harder to hit than a stationary target and a target is what I am. I never go back to the same place, except to access my safe deposit box, which I opened to store my cash. It is under an assumed name. That would be a foolish thing to do because the company has its way of finding ex-operatives who use their real name. I know that because I did a cleanup job once to remove a loose thread who was keeping a safe box under his real name.

I’ve been moving constantly since the 2:30 am knock at the door. So far my disguise has kept me safe and just to be sure I change it every day. One day I’m a bearded bum in ragged clothes. The next I might be a suave looking mustachioed playboy, It’s how I stay alive. Right now I’m in Key West, Florida, enjoying seeing all of the nearly naked ladies parade around for the annual springtime festival. They’re not college kids, but mature women. Everyone has a cocktail in hand and with everyone naked, there’s no way to conceal and carry a gun. It seems like a place to have a worry free safe day. Tomorrow I’ll be long gone. If I don’t know where I’ll be, it’s impossible for those searching for me to know where I’m headed next.

The company has operatives everywhere. Tonight I was fully clothed as the tourists are and I was sitting in a restaurant. I noticed one guest, sitting alone, had her eyes on me. I was halfway through my meal when I got up to go to the restroom. I went into the restroom and right out a window there. I was only about 100 feet away when a bullet whizzed past my ear close enough that I felt the sting of it. Goodbye Key West, hello?

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