This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.
The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.
This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.
Unfortunately no politicians or lawyers were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.
If you enjoyed it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hated it, Email me and lie.
I will always welcome contact.
AUTHOR'S HEALTH WARNING
Dear Reader,
Life can be a crock sometimes, so if it all right with you, I actually prefer happy endings. So, if you want the hero(ine) to have a really miserable time, READ SOMETHING ELSE.
But if you want to see good prevail, and end up with a soppy smile, then I have achieved what I set out to do.
Please enjoy.
Tanya
tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk
The legal stuff.
This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.
Monique
by Tayna J
Parts 7 - 9
Part 7.
We caught the train to Zurich at a little after nine the next morning. We had sat together at breakfast in the hotel, and Rich kept looking at me and smiling. I felt really strange, and put it down to the hormones.
Alison had apologized about not being honest, and in a way I was relieved that things were out in the open. I was mindful that other people's agendas are often different, and I did not intend ever to be a victim of circumstance again.
As I walked through the hotel, in my new dark skirt, dark stockings and black shoes, cream blouse and matching dark jacket, I was conscious that I caused male heads to turn. I caught my reflection in the many mirrors, and smiled at the strange and confident young woman I had become. The weird thing was, that I actually felt confident, and it was almost as if I had become a completely different person. Giving orders and suggestions came naturally to me, and the really strange thing was that I was thinking in French. The accent I had started to put on, became almost second nature. I had become Monique Bonnard!
Swiss trains run efficiently, as do most things in Switzerland. We pulled into Zurich on time. Alison 'arranged' for the incident room in England to get a sighting of Matthew Thwaites on a ferry for Calais at 06:00 in the morning, and was believed to be heading for Zurich. We booked into a hotel near the station, and left our luggage in our rooms.
We arrived by taxi at the bank, and I went in alone, while the others waited in a small café across the street. I approached the desk, and asked for a deposit box. The assistant spoke fluent German, French, Italian and English. We conversed in French.
I paid the fee, and was taken to the vault. There was strict security, and the whole area was covered by CCTV. I was given a card, similar to the one I already had from Dad's safe, and the assistant had possession of another one. The two cards were swiped, and that secured me an empty box, and he took it to a private curtained cubicle for me to put whatever I wanted into it.
I was not bothered about privacy, and openly showed him the jewelry as I placed it into the box.
I smiled at him.
"I was my late mother's jewelry, it is very valuable, and I feel rather vulnerable with it in my luggage."
He nodded, and helped me place it in the security safe.
"What hours are you open?"
"From 09:00 every morning, until 16:00 during the week."
"Are you ever open on a Saturday?"
"No."
"Thank you. As long as I know." I said, and walked out.
I hovered in the main hall for a while, until that assistant was given a break, then I changed another £1000 for Swiss Francs, and approached the new assistant.
"I obtained a safe deposit box with you this morning, and I forgot to take out some earrings. Is it possible I could just do that?" I said in German.
"Of course, fraulein." he said, and we went back down to the vault.
I gave him Dad's card. He opened the safe and carried the box to the cubicle again. I pulled the curtain across, and emptied the box onto the table. There were several sheaves of paper, and a floppy disk, which I immediately placed into my briefcase. There was a huge wad of Swiss Francs, which I simply placed into my handbag, along with a similar wad of 100 Euro notes. There was a strip of gold Sovereigns, some Kruger Rands, and some diamonds in a small, black, felt bag. These followed the paper money. There was a small jewellery box with my mother's initials on it. I put that in my bag too.
Lastly, there was a Walther PPK self-loading pistol. I had been fortunate to have been given an opportunity to familiarise myself with similar weapons whilst away on a training exercise with the Army Cadets from School. Also, when on holiday in America, one of Dad's friends was a gun freak, and I had used his for a day on a range. So I checked it, and found it had a full clip. I replaced the magazine, and slid the pistol into in the waist band of my skirt, at the back.
Then I signalled that I had finished, flourishing a pair of diamond earrings.
"Finished, thanks." I said, and smiled.
He smiled, and replaced the box.
I went up, and left the bank rapidly.
We met up in the café across the street, and I described to them the contents of the brief case.
The Americans were most interested in the papers. Taking care as to who was observing, I discretely handed over a sample.
"This is more than we could ever have hoped for." Will said. "Now I understand. Old man Thwaites was a wily old fox all right."
"What are zey?" I asked.
"These are the accounts of the holding company that applied for the contracts, but not the legitimate accounts. Here are bank details and payments to all sorts of people, even a US Senator." Will continued, as he examined another sheaf of documents.
"Oh boy! This is a list of persons who have been paid by the holding company, with dates and amounts. We have just hit the mother lode."
"There is a floppy disc there, as well." Alison pointed out.
"We have to get these to the CIA case officer, fast." Rich said.
"Okay, I'll do that, you guys keep an eye out for our friends." Will said.
Alarm bells started ringing in my head. He was suddenly very interested in leaving us alone, and I didn't like it.
"One moment." I said, and they all looked at me.
"If zeez are as valuable as you say, zen I am not sure one personne should take zem alone. With everysing zat ees at stake, it would be wrong to make a mistake now." I said staring at Will.
As soon as I caught the look he gave me I knew that he was bought, and paid for, and we were in great danger. I glanced at Rich. I still didn't know about him. I was about as certain of Alison as I could be, but this was becoming a very dangerous game.
I pretended not to care, and shrugged.
"D'accord. Okay, you take zem." I said. He looked relieved, stood up, and went to leave.
"Right! I'll go now, and I will come back as soon as I have delivered them to the case officer at the consulate." He headed out the front door.
I stood up.
"I must visit the ladies." I said, and stood up. Alison leaned across to speak to Will. I assumed she wanted him to move to allow her out so she could follow me. Why did women always feel the need to go to the loo in packs? I shrugged and went to the back of the café.
I ran straight out of the back door, and onto the street. I caught sight of Will just going round the corner, away from the direction of the US consulate.
I followed, on the opposite side of the road, he was walking very fast, and talking on a mobile phone at the same time. There was an almighty explosion behind me. Glass and debris flew around me, and I was knocked off my feet by he blast. I looked back, and saw the whole of the café was destroyed. I suddenly realised that our 'friends' had probably been responsible for this attempt to kill Rich and Alison with a bomb. I should have been there, too.
I was stunned. I had ringing in my ears, and felt dizzy, but going back was impossible, so I picked myself up, and kept after Will.
He had no idea I was following, so intent was he on his call. Finally, he finished speaking, and put the phone in his pocket. He crossed to my side of the road, and made for a side street. I kept about 200 metres behind him, and followed for nearly a kilometre. At last he stopped in front of an apartment block, looked at the building front, and entered.
I followed, and watched as the elevator stopped at the sixth floor. I took the stairs and carefully pushed open the door onto the sixth floor landing. The corridor was empty. Cursing silently, I noted that the elevator was still on this floor. So I knew he was here somewhere.
I walked slowly down the corridor, stopping by each door, listening for any give-away that he was in a particular apartment. There were only six to this floor. I got lucky at the third door, as I could hear Will's distinctive voice. It was raised slightly, and there were other voices that were also raised. An argument was in full swing. I hovered by the door, uncertain as to what to do next.
Then I heard two distinctive 'pops'. At first I thought they were from the street outside, and then it dawned on me that they were probably silenced gunshots. I took out the Walther, and slowly and as quietly as I could, chambered a round, released the safety catch and held it in front of me with both hands on the butt as I had been shown. My heart was racing. I heard two men talking in a foreign language, and then I heard the door lock being handled. I ducked back into the stairwell, and watched.
The door of the apartment opened. I watched as a swarthy man, who could have been north African or an Arab, came out of the door. The man said something in Arabic, and pushed the elevator button. The elevator doors opened, and he got in, then the doors closed again.
I went back to the apartment door, which was just closing. I made a decision, and holding the gun in the airm position, kicked open the door. It swung wide and banged against the wall. Will was lying on his back in the hall, and another dark man was going through his pockets. My briefcase was lying on the floor by Will's head.
The man looked up with an expression of shock and surprise on his face. It turned to fear as he saw the gun, and he started to move his hand towards his waist band.
Holding the gun in both hands, arms extended straight out in front, I shot him twice in the head. The shots were incredibly loud. My ears were ringing painfully as I grabbed the briefcase, and Will's wallet, then ran for the stairs. I ran down the many flights, and out into the lobby. A car was just pulling up outside, the other man from the apartment jumped out and walked quickly to the elevator. I hid behind a door as he passed, then followed him. I waited until he got into the elevator and then shot him in the back - twice, to be sure. The doors slid shut, and his body was carried up to the sixth floor. I hoped the blood wouldn't stain the carpet permanently, and smiled as I imagined that his soul may well be travelling in the opposite direction, at the same time. I turned and walked out. My ears were really hurting now, and I could hear very little. Gun shots never seemed that loud in the movies.
The Mercedes was sitting there, and the keys were still in the ignition. I slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. It was an automatic, I placed the gear shift into Drive, and drove slowly down the street. I headed towards the café, and parked near the police cordon. I searched the car, and found another gun, a Glock 17, 9mm, in the glove compartment. I put this in my briefcase. The boot was empty. There was a mobile phone sitting by the handbrake. On impulse I took it.
I wiped everywhere that I could remember touching, and locked the car, throwing the keys into a nearby rubbish bin, then I walked up to a worried young policeman by the cordon.
"Excuse me, I was supposed to meet a girl friend in the café, what has happened?"
"There has been an explosion. Several people have been killed. The cause is not known yet. All casualties have been taken to the nearest hospital."
"Thanks." I said, and walked away.
I took a taxi to the hotel, and collected my luggage. I paid for the room for the night, saying that I had become separated from my friend, but I hoped that she would be back later. I called the police emergency number and asked about casualties. Eight people were injured, three seriously, and four were dead. No names were available for release, unless I was a relative.
I left the hotel and walked across the road into the railway station. I placed my suitcase and briefcase in a left luggage locker, and turned and walked back out into the street. I waved down another taxi, and was dropped off at the hospital. It was chaotic, with paramedics, nurses and doctors rushing everywhere. Police officers were trying to restore calm, and the press were trying to get in on the act.
I walked round the side of the hospital, and into a unmarked door, then I took a staircase and went up. I found myself in the relative calm of a corridor with wards leading off each side. I passed the staff canteen, and went into the staff restrooms. A white coat was hanging on a hook, and I slipped it on over my clothes. There was an id card on the coat, of a blonde girl, not too dissimilar to myself. I continued down the corridor, and picked up a clipboard that was lying on a trolley.
I headed back to the chaos that was the Emergency Room, and was able to get right to the reception desk. A very harassed receptionist was trying to cope, and I slipped in and sat in the chair next to her.
"I need the list of casualties for the press officer." I said.
She passed me a piece of paper.
"Thanks." I said, and scanned the list. I made the effort to copy the list onto some paper on my clip board, and then gave her the list back.
"Thanks." I said, but she never heard.
Alison and Rich had survived, and were in the hospital.
I went back upstairs, replaced the clipboard, and then went back to the restroom and replaced the coat where I had found it. I looked rather unkempt, so I spent some time repairing my makeup, and brushing some of the dust and debris off my clothes. Several women came in and paid me no undue attention at all. So, I went into the canteen, and paid for a coffee and a sandwich. I found a vacant table, sat down, and tried to relax.
The adrenaline was still coursing through my body. I would be eighteen tomorrow. I had killed two men in cold blood, and was behaving like James Bond, or Jane Bond at any rate!
I tried to relax, drank my coffee, and munched my sandwich.
"Hello. Is this seat taken?" A male voice brought me back to earth. He was speaking French, but not quite fluently.
Part 8.
I looked up, and saw a young man, about nineteen or so, looking down at me. He was tall, and broad, with unruly sandy hair. He looked like a rugby player.
I smiled and waved towards the chair.
"Help yourself." I replied, in French.
"Thanks." he said, and sat down with a vast tray of food. It dawned on me, it was only lunch time.
"Are you a prospective student too?" he asked, still in French. I tried to guess his nationality, but failed.
"No, I was visiting a friend in one of the wards."
"Oh. I was supposed to have an interview, but they have got a panic on. Bit of a shame with all the emergency." he said.
"It must be." I said, not having a clue what he was talking about.
"Where are you from?"
"Lille, France, and you?"
"Scotland."
That explained the terrible accent.
I changed to my accented English.
"Why come to Switzerland? Zere are medical schools in Britain."
"Oh, you speak English. Good! I know, but I want to broaden my language skills at the same time, and my father trained here. We have a family apartment in the city, so I don't have to go into student digs."
"Digs?" I frowned.
"Sorry, digs means accommodation, like a flat or rooms."
"Oh." I said, and lapsed into silence.
"I'm Alex Drummond. What's your name?"
"Monique. Monique Bonnard."
"Pleased to meet you Monique. I can't say I have been falling over friends since I arrived here. How about you?"
I smiled.
"I have met a few people, but it is always difficult in a strange place." I said.
"How long are you in Zurich?"
"I am not sure, a few days, perhaps a week. How about you?"
"I am here for a couple of weeks. This is my year out. If I pass the interview, I will go home for a few weeks, and then I might go to Africa to help in a hospital in Senegal, for a couple of months, and then maybe on to Australia to do a bit of backpacking."
"That sounds fun. I have to go back to get a job." I said.
"Where are you staying?"
I shrugged.
"I have to find somewhere. The hotels are very expensive." I said.
We chatted about the weather and several other innocuous subjects, then, suddenly he came out with:
"Look, I have a spare room at the flat, and if it just for a couple of days, come and stay with me. I could do with the company."
"Are you sure?" I asked, surprised at the spontaneity of his offer.
"Aye, it would be a pleasure."
I smiled at him, and he reddened. Oh shit! I thought, another one falls for the charm.
"I will go and see how my friend is. I meet you here in half an hour, oui?"
"Oui!" he said, beaming at me.
I slung my shoulder bag over my shoulder, and left him eating his way through a ton of consumables.
I went to the enquiries desk, and asked after Alison Grover.
"Are you a relative?"
"No, just a friend." I said.
"I am sorry, for the moment, no information is available. Please come back tomorrow." she said.
I left before I got angry. Then I went to a pay phone. I dialled directory enquiries, and eventually got through to the US consulate.
"Could I speak to the CIA case officer handling the Thwaites case please?" I asked, again with a slight French accent.
"I'm sorry, you must be mistaken, there is no one from the CIA here."
"My next sentence will mention, over the open line, the full contents of the bank vault, the names of all persons on the list, and the current location of William Henderson, and Richard Cooper. Now are you going to be sensible, or am I going to start talking?"
"One moment."
Then another male voice came on the line.
"Hello?"
"Are you a CIA officer?"
"Who is this?"
"Never mind. Richard Cooper is in the hospital. William Henderson was playing for the other team, and stole the papers, but after he delivered the papers they shot him. They blew up the café where Cooper, the British police woman, and the French girl were waiting. Cooper and the police woman are in hospital."
I then gave him the address of the apartment block
"Who are you?"
"An interested party. I have the papers. I trust no one after Will. I will call tomorrow." I said, and hung up.
I went straight up to the canteen, and arrived just asAlex was finishing his mammoth meal.
"Hello, how is your friend?" he asked, as he placed his tray on the trolley.
"I do not know. She was involved in the explosion, and no one will tell me anything." I said.
"Oh, that's too bad. What will you do?"
I shrugged.
"Perhaps I come back tomorrow."
"Are you ready?"
I nodded.
"Have you any stuff?"
"At the station, we go there on the way, yes?"
"Sure, we can get a taxi, okay?"
"Oui."
We walked out together, and caught a taxi to the station. I liberated my suitcase and briefcase, and jumped back into the cab.
His flat was in quite a nice part of the city, and some way from all the excitement. It was a good flat, as befitted his father's position as an eminent surgeon, by all accounts.
He showed me the spare room. It was luxurious, two beds and an en suite bathroom. There was a beautiful view of the city as well.
"Cette chambre est superbe. Merci Alex." I said, and he blushed again.
"It's no problem. I'm just pleased I can help you for a while." he said.
"I must take a shower, okay?" I asked.
"Make yourself at home." he said.
"Merci!" I said, starting to strip off, and he left the room rapidly.
I had a lovely shower, and, after I dried myself off, I had to repair the glue in my nether regions. My false breasts were fine, but I thought that my own breasts were rather tender underneath. It could have been my imagination, or wishful thinking. The hormones would not have started working this fast, would they?
I put on a cream dress, with short sleeves, and a broad brown belt. My dark stockings had a ladder in them, so I put on some flesh coloured tights, and some cream shoes. I had really tight panties on, with a panty-pad inside them, to add weight to my excuse of having my period. My hair, once washed, was really bouncy and full of colour. I felt much better.
I put on fresh makeup, and took my pills. My nails were fine, and I felt quite relaxed and safe here. I checked the guns. The Walther had only three bullets left, and I knew that the police would be after this gun for the killings of the Arabs. That is, if the bodies hadn't been removed by persons unknown before the police arrived.
The Glock had seventeen rounds in the clip. It was full, and there was a full spare. I knew that I couldn't go back to the bank for a while, and I looked at the jewellery that I had collected.
The stuff from home had been very fine, but this collection was out of this world. There was a matching set of diamond earrings, bracelet, necklace and tiara. There were four diamond rings, with huge stones. I hated even to guess how much they were all worth.
The cash, once counted, came to about £50,000. I was one rich girl.
I carefully split the money, and placed it in different parts of my cases and bags. The Sterling was useless here, so I only kept the Swiss Francs in my shoulder bag. I kept the Walther on me, intending to throw it into the first river I came to. The Glock I put in my case.
I locked my case, with the briefcase inside, and left the room, carrying my bag. Alex was watching the TV news.
"They think it was a terrorist bomb, but no one is claiming responsibility." he said.
I watched, and there was a report of a mystery killing of three unidentified men in an apartment block.
"It is more like Belfast than Switzerland." Alex said.
"It is all a bit frightening."
"So, do you know Zurich?" he asked.
"I have been here a few times, but I do not know it well." I admitted.
"We lived here for six years, from when I was about eight to fourteen, so I know it quite well. I have never been here since I grew up." he said with a sheepish smile.
"How old are you?" I asked.
"Twenty, next month. You?"
"Nineteen, twenty tomorrow." I said.
He smiled.
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"Not really, zere ees a boy who likes me, but nussing serious." I said, thinking of Rich.
"I had a girlfriend, but she dumped me a few weeks ago." he said.
"Oh, why?"
"I think I was a bit of a geek."
"Geek?"
"Oh, sorry, a geek is a book-worm, or computer nut. I am not very good with people, and I am not what many think as being trendy." he said, getting embarrassed.
I smiled.
"Its okay. I like geeks." I said.
"You're just saying that. Anyway, I knew you were older than me."
"Oh, pourquoi, why?"
"Because you look so sophisticated and confident. You look at least twenty-two."
I just smiled.
"You are very beautiful, Monique." he said, blushing again.
"Pah. You are not a geek. You are one zat plays ze roogbee, non?"
He went bright red this time.
"How can you tell?"
I waggled his slightly bruised ears.
"You have ze roogbee players ears." I said, "and you know ze chat up lines."
He stood up, and I could tell he was feeling flustered.
"Alex, you show me Zurich, oui?"
"Aye, what do you want to see?"
"Surprise me." I said.
He nodded. "Okay. Do you like dancing?"
"It depends who is zere wiz me." I said, with a saucy smile.
"I'm not much good with the dancing, but I have been told of some really good clubs."
"I am not dressed for ze clubs." I said.
"There is plenty of time to change."
No, you silly boy. I did not bring zose kind of clothes viz me." I explained.
"Well, we could just go shopping, and then come back and change."
"D'accord." I said, and off we went.
We walked to the closest shopping area, and had to cross a wide river. I managed to lose the Walther as we went. I heard a satisfactory 'plop' as it hit the water. With it gone, I was able to relax a little.
The shops were wonderful, and poor Alex had obviously never been shopping with a rich girl before. I spent nearly £1000 on clothes, shoes, jewellery and cosmetics, and I bought him a really cool jacket and some trousers. I had to get him two really nice collarless shirts. He was actually very good looking, but incredibly shy.
We had coffee at a pavement café, in the August sun, and I felt relaxed behind my new sunglasses. We laughed and told each other terrible jokes, and he began to open up a little. He told me about his father, and his high expectations of his son. He admitted he was terrified of failing, and he actually did not really want to be a doctor at all.
He was fiddling with his cup, and I sensed he was uneasy about something.
"Alex, why are you worried?"
He smiled, awkwardly.
"I don't know how to say this, Monique. But I have never met anyone like you before. I have said things to you that I have never told anyone before."
"Zat ees sweet." I said.
He smiled, and looked into his empty cup.
"I like being with you. You make me feel good." he said.
I looked at him, and realised that he was falling in love with me. I was flattered and pleased, but also terrified. The real problem was, that I felt something for him. He made me laugh, I felt safe with him, and I wanted to hold him. This was getting tricky.
"I like you, too." I heard myself say.
He smiled, and took my hand across the table. I wanted to snatch it away, but my body made me squeeze his hand.
"Is there any way you could stay longer?"
"I do not know. It is difficult. Perhaps." I said.
"I'd like you to stay for longer."
"You are sweet. But zere ees many sings happening to me at ze moment." I said, regretting the lie I was living.
"I love your accent." he said grinning inanely.
I just smiled.
We returned to the flat, and I put away my shopping. I changed into a slinky royal blue dress that matched my eyes, and refreshed my makeup. We then walked across the bridge again into the centre, and went to a large bar, which had a restaurant upstairs, and dancing downstairs. He had taken my hand as soon as we left the flat, and I enjoyed the strange sensation this gave me.
We sat on high bar stools and ordered some beer. I was very conscious that my long legs were showing all my glory, and tried to pull the hem of my dress down as far as it would go, which wasn't far. Alison would have called me a tart.
I liked being with Alex. Initially, he had been very uncomfortable in my company, and as he relaxed, he began to show his true character.
As I had discovered earlier, he had no real wish to be a doctor, he had actually wanted to join the army since he was about twelve. And all his frustrations just poured out. He had a very dry sense of humour, and we found we had a lot in common. Several times I just wanted to tell him everything, but had to hold back. I almost forgot the dangerous situation I was in.
We had a meal, and then progressed down to the dance area. I cannot ever remember enjoying myself more. Alex was super company, and completely non-threatening. He was obviously attracted to me, but was not aggressively passionate. He simply held my hand, and even during the slow dances, didn't try to crush me, or rub himself against me. He simply held me, and I him.
We walked slowly back to the flat, at about midnight, hand in hand. Every time he touched me, my heart skipped a little, and I knew that I was making my life even more difficult, but I didn't care.
He kissed me goodnight, and I slipped into bed with a silly grin on my face.
Part 9.
I awoke early, and had a shower. The dancing had caused my glue to become partially unstuck, so I had some more repair work to undertake. I loathed my male bits with a passion, and earnestly hoped to get rid of them as soon as possible!
The hair on my legs was beginning to return, so I used a foul smelling cream to de-hair my legs and arms again. I shaved my armpits, and noticed that my facial hair was still not coming through. I was so content in my female persona that I never wanted to be Matthew again! He represented my old life and all the horrible things that meant!
Monique was truly the person I was, and wanted to remain. Her character was as far removed from Matthew's, as her appearance! I dressed in a smart, grey skirt, and navy blouse. I so loved the feel of stockings, that I wore them again, with the suspender belt. I had a silly thought that I would have to invest in a holster for my Glock. I looked at my reflection, and smiled. I really did look good. I put the Glock in my bag, with the spare clip.
Alex was just appearing as I left my room, and he was surprised at seeing me fully dressed at seven thirty.
"Shit! You look wonderful, particularly for this time of day." he said.
"Merci, Alex. I wish I could say ze same for you, but you are, how you say, all sideways?"
He laughed.
"Yeah, I am not my best in the mornings."
I made us both a coffee, and found the cereal as he watched the TV news. There was a bit more on the bombing, and the killings. They were now linked, as someone had seen Will leave the scene just before the blast. I hoped that the same person hadn't seen me.
"What have you planned today?" Alex asked.
"I will go to the hospital, and try to see my friend. What are you doing?"
"I have to be there by nine for my interview. Any chance we can meet up for lunch, or something?"
I smiled.
"Of course, we can go together, and meet after your interview." I said.
"Great!" he said, and his whole face changed as he grinned like a schoolboy.
"Alex, I sink you like me a little, oui?" I asked.
He went very serious.
"Monique, I like you a lot. I don't think I have ever been in love before, but I think I am now."
I smiled.
"It ees ze same pour moi." I said, and kissed him on the cheek. He needed a shave.
He held me, and was going to kiss me again.
I held up a hand.
"Non! You will shave before you take all my skin off." I said, and he laughed, and literally bounded off to take a shower. My heart was racing, and I kept telling myself that I was being totally stupid. Then I remembered it was my eighteenth birthday today.
"Happy Birthday, Monique." I said out loud. The date of birth I had given Monique was the same as mine, but two years older. Monique was now twenty.
We were running a little late by the time Alex was ready, and we dashed off to catch the bus. We held hands all the way, and I kept trying to make myself try to be sensible. He didn't deserve me, or all my troubles. I was dangerous, and he deserved better, but I just so wanted to be with him, it was so hard, I almost burst into tears.
We arrived at the hospital, to find things calmer today. There was security on the main door, but Alex showed them the letter, and said I was his girl friend, and we were let in. We went to the teaching wing, which was right at the rear of the main hospital. I kissed him, and wished him good luck.
"I will see you in ze same canteen at noon, okay?" I said, and he nodded.
I went off down the corridor. I found myself totally lost, and found a door that was obviously a storeroom. There were white coats, smocks, and all manner of medical personnel's clothing. No one was about, and a few minutes later I was attired in a white smock, and looked like any other medical auxiliary. I found an unattended trolley, with bandages and other stuff on it. There was a waste bag on one end, and I placed my shoulder bag in this, all the papers were in the bag.
I pushed my trolley along until I found some signs, and eventually managed to locate the general wards. No one paid me the slightest attention, even when I was at an unattended nurse's station. I managed to get into the computer, and entered Alison's name in a search. I was able to ascertain her current location. Richard was still in intensive care.