In prison, Brittany had often coped with her miserable surroundings by imagining she was on a long journey through a beautiful land somewhere. Two days on a train through Europe, with a night at a lovely boutique hotel in Munich in between, had more than fit the bill. Brittany was feeling very rejuvenated as she enjoyed the stunning views on the last leg of the trip, south from Thessaloniki. She didn't know just what awaited her in Athens, but the very fact that she'd found her way there meant her stop in Luxembourg hadn't been a complete bust.
Angie and Joseph had assured her it hadn't been a bust at all. "Now you have firsthand knowledge, and you've got this Madame Zhuckette on our radar for the first time!" Angie had told her on their final conference call back in Luxembourg. "That could be a huge lead for us, whoever she is."
"But I didn't even see her," Brittany had replied. "All I got is the name, and I don't even know if that's real."
"Even if it isn't, it means something that they wanted you to know about her. Keep an ear out for it in Athens, but don't go around asking for her, okay?"
"Even I know better than that, Angie. I do now, anyway."
"Yes, of course you do." Once again Angie had sounded horribly sad, something Brittany had come to learn not to ask about, but no one could stop her from wondering about it. "I just want you to be careful, you know that."
Brittany did know, and she had every intention of being careful. But she couldn't deny, as the train raced toward Athens, that her first mission had left her a little frustrated. All those weeks of imagining all sorts of revenge against the Mansfield Consulting gang that had stolen two years of her life and destroyed her soccer career, and all she had to show for it was the knowledge that someone's wife had been in Athens recently.
And two orgasms at the skilled hand and tongue of that wife. Brittany couldn't help smiling at the memory of that. On that positive note, she recalled what Angie had told her on the day she'd left for Europe: "Don't try to stifle that anger, Erika, use it!" As she gazed back out the window for the first signs of Athens, Brittany resolved to do just that. Once again she was Erika, and once again it was time to use her fury rather than let it eat her up.
It was late afternoon when the train pulled in, and after the long trip Brittany welcomed the cool twilight as she stepped out of the train station. She feigned familiarity with her ancestral land, and resisted the temptation to gaze around like the thrilled newcomer she was as she joined the queue for a taxi. Though her organization had a secure flat in Athens, Joseph and Angie had advised her that the trail was too hot after her fling in Luxembourg for her to go anywhere near it. So Brittany had received their blessing to break the bank on a five-star hotel that would let her pass as a tourist, and she'd scoured the Internet for the most garish luxury resort she could find.
She'd had three days to practice saying it confidently, like a seasoned wealthy businesswoman might, and when the taxi driver asked her destination, she nailed it. "Hotel Grande Bretagne, please."
"Oh my!" remarked the mustachioed driver as he pulled out into the traffic. "Do you stay there often, madam?"
"Every time I'm in Athens," Brittany said.
"Lucky lady," he said. Brittany managed to suppress a smile - he didn't know how right he was about that!
Back in Winchester, most of the other Greek-American kids had gone to Greek school in the afternoons. But here as everywhere, Brittany's mother had been indifferent, so Brittany had jumped at the chance to always have her afternoons free for soccer. She now had yet another reason for bitter regret on that point as she had no choice but to address the desk clerk in English.
The man with the pink carnation in his lapel showed no sign of minding, though, as Brittany gave him Erika's passport and credit card. "Erika Tsoupas, American...your family came from here, I suppose?"
"Yes, my grandparents came over in the fifties." Brittany found it increasingly enjoyable on the rare occasions that she could tell the truth. "I've always wanted to see Athens for myself."
"We are very happy you did, madam," the man said, handing her an envelope with her receipt and key cards. "Simos here will help you with your luggage."
Brittany turned to see a young man who could have been her cousin, grinning obsequiously at her. No question as to why; she had already learned how American tourists had a reputation in Europe as generous tippers. She had also, thanks to Angie and Joseph, learned to be fairly paranoid about anyone who looked too friendly.
But at least that provided an excuse to throw anyone off the scent who happened to be listening. Brittany had done her homework back in Luxembourg, and she knew in Athens, Exarcheia was surely where it was at as far as drugs were concerned. But no one here needed to know that. So after greeting Simos and handing over her suitcases to him, she welcomed his small talk whether that was really all it was or not. "Welcome to Greece, Miss Tsoupas," he said. "How long is your stay?"
"I don't know yet," Brittany said, loudly enough to be overheard by the handful of people in the opulent lobby. "It depends on how I enjoy the first few days. Speaking of which, Simos, could you recommend something for a lady who's just here to relax?"
"Well, the Acropolis is a must, you know," Simos offered as the elevator doors opened. That cliché, to Brittany's satisfaction, was all any moles in the lobby would hear. She felt a healthy wave of nervousness as the doors slid shut behind them, which quickly receded when Simos did not pull a knife on her and demand to know what she knew about Mansfield Consulting, but only prattled on about his favorite parks and botanical gardens. He peppered them with just enough comments about what his mother liked to satisfy Brittany that she'd played him perfectly. Must tell Angie, she reminded herself - but not until she was safely out of the hotel.
Upon seeing her room, Brittany wasn't sure if she ever wanted to get out of the hotel. It was just the sort of beautiful scene she had envisioned for herself throughout her two years in hell: elegant décor and furniture, a king sized bed and - best of all after two days on the train - a bathtub. Who cared about chasing down drug runners when you could live like this! But Brittany remembered - barely - that she was supposed to be a seasoned traveler who had been here many times before. "Thank you, Simos," she said, handing him a twenty euro note.
"Thank
you
, madam!" he exclaimed, and he was off to leave Brittany safe in her lair. She looked around it with a mix of appreciation and the fury that still burned beneath her newly elegant exterior. Once again the past had a damper on her joy, and once again she managed to remind herself that she wouldn't be in the lap of luxury now if not for all that had come before. And there was a job to do, putting out feelers for Mansfield Consulting in Exarcheia.
But she would not be deprived of a bath first - and maybe a bit of fun even before that!
