Michael woke up early on the morning of the trip. He felt guilty lying to his future wife. The Bissetts hated the thought of his brother. Victor had called it disgusting that Ender had left his brother so shortly after his parent's death. It made for a believable lie that he was traveling to the east coast to tell his brother of his engagement. It was the perfect lie because he knew none of the Bissetts would want to go.
Kat put up some resistance to the idea, but Victor quickly stood up for Michael by saying it was a good idea to reconnect with his brother. After all, nothing was more important than family, even if the member was a filthy-rotten letdown, who abandoned another member when he needed him most. Kat obliged under the condition that Michael called every day and would not invite Ender to the wedding unless the scumbag directly asked. Michael agreed to call and informed her he had no plans of inviting Ender.
Michael pulled the two IDs from his pocket. He'd have to make sure not to confuse them going through security at the airport. The photo on his new Colorado ID was clearly the one Gary had taken at the office a few days before. The name read "Harvey Sinclair." The plastic felt a bit flimsy compared to his real license, but it only had to trick a hotel concierge that wasn't looking for counterfeits. Strange that such lengths were being taken to conceal his identity, but he also knew a few online searches would tip the hotel that Michael Robinson was not an individual who could afford such a lavish getaway.
The night before, he'd searched Harvey Sinclair to see if Gary had created a fake cyber presence for the name, but found nothing. Harvey Sinclair was not a man who spent his time online. He spent a bit of time creating a fake background for himself in case any of the workers inquired. Mr. Sinclair, he decided, was a Wall Street investor that took a single vacation each year to clear his mind from the stresses of the stock market. Harvey Sinclair also did not like to discuss his work while on vacation.
At 7:50 am there was a knock on his front door. Michael approached and peered through the peephole to see a well dressed Gary standing in the doorway. Gary was wearing dress slacks with his hair slicked back. If it weren't for the mask, he might look normal. His feet were shuffling back and forth as he kept looking down the hallway in both directions. Michael opened the door, "I thought they were sending a driver?"
"Good morning Harvey, they canceled your ride to the airport. Make sure to write a note of it. I'll be giving you a ride. Would you like me to carry your bags?"
Michael shook his head no, "Give me a minute. Also, call me Michael."
"Please hurry, Mr. Sinclair," Without invitation, Gary pushed past Michael into the house. "Be quick."
Michael went back to his bedroom and finished packing his best clothes into his small suitcase. He pulled out the notebook and wrote, 'The resort canceled ride on day one. I was forced to find a ride of my own to the airport.'
Traffic was more substantial than usual, due to a crash that was still being cleared off the road. An overturned trailer had scattered parts across three lanes. Gary swore and hit the steering wheel as what would typically be a half-hour drive took nearly an hour and a half. When Michael told Gary of the investing background he'd made for Harvey Sinclair, Gary shrugged and told him to keep it simple. More important than the history was a detailed review of the resort and everything that occurred.
When they pulled up to the San Jose terminal, Gary rushed Michael out of the car. Before Michael was even inside the airport, Gary had pulled from the curb. He rushed a quarter mile down the road and pulled into the airport's parking garage. There was an empty spot on the third floor between an SUV and a minivan. He pulled out the duffel bag he'd hidden beneath the passenger seat and frantically began taking off his clothes. He was cutting it too close.
Gary jogged down the garage stairs and across the street. He hustled up the escalator to find a pleasingly short TSA line. He waited impatiently as the family in front of him tried to remove the shoes of their three toddlers.
The smallest red-headed boy sat on the ground staring at Gary. "It's not polite to point." The mother said, using her index finger to bop the kid's nose before pulling off his second sneaker. Gary removed his aviator sunglasses and puffed his cheeks at the kid, causing the gruesome burn on his cheek to stretch. The kid cried.
After getting his usual security pat-down, Gary pulled his ball cap low to his glasses and scurried to the gate.
"I'm supposed to be on this plane," he handed the hefty lady his boarding class.
"You're lucky. We were just about to close the cabin. Try to be here earlier next time."
Gary walked casually down the tunnel. I was here very early this morning. He boarded the plane and found his aisle seat at the rear of the aircraft. His elderly seatmates had already nodded off. He reached into his backpack, pulled out his mask, and snapped it over his face. He closed his eyes.
Off to Malibu.