I was twelve and it was two o'clock in the morning. I was woken by the colored lights that flashed in my room then stopped. I heard voices and knocking. Since I was the only boy, I had my own room which I treasured and protected like a hermitted pirate. I peered outside my window and saw what titillates every young boy: a cop car in the driveway. My grin widened as I thought of the possibilities. Perhaps a long lost uncle was a FBI agent and he just uncovered a conspiracy against my father and there's a bomb in the basement. I ran to the door. Maybe I was a stolen baby and my real parents just discovered where I was, and they just happen to be millionaire foreigners who can't speak English.

I slipped down the hallway and peered down the stairs seeing my sister, Evelyn, standing next to the cop; she was pissed off and crying. Maybe her boyfriend, Harold, was a CIA agent and was just killed in a shoot out between Russian spies and the US. Mom always thought he was a high school drop out but he's a hero. They walked into the kitchen, offering the cop a cup of coffee.

"Listen Don, I appreciate you bringing him home." My father called him Don so he knew him. I didn't know my father knew any cops. Perhaps my father is a spy and not a tire salesman, that's just a cover. Something was up and if I didn't find out soon my head was going to burst with the possibilities.

*****

That's how I felt watching my window-woman looking at the papers from the envelope, but whereas my sister just got caught smoking hash, this woman really was up to something. A gun, a weird visitor with an envelope, it truly was an episode of MISSION IMPOSSIBLE.

Ned snored away as my curiosity swelled like a ripe melon. If I woke him he'd want to get in the middle of it but this was my mystery and my woman, which is another reason why it wouldn't be a good idea to let him in on it.

I figured out her room was 512, but what would I say? She'd know it was me if I called from my room. I grabbed my crutches that leaned by my window and hobbled over to Ned's overcoat. I found his mobile and hobbled into the bathroom. I dialed the hotel.

"Room 512 please." With no window in the bathroom, I was frustrated that I wouldn't be able to see her pick up the receiver.

It rang. "Hello."

"Megan."

"No, you got the wrong broad." Her voice was throaty, strong, and scary, but I continued.

"She's suppose to be in 512. Is this 512?"

"Yeah."

"Well, have you been registered there long?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Leon." I was dying to watch her speak-- to try to piece it together.

"Yeah, well, Leon you're too late. Whoever was in this room before me is gone."

"Well, that's why I was wondering how long you've been in 512, but if you're going to be a bitch about it, forget it."

"Five nights. I've been here five nights."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks. You know, did anyone ever tell you you got a damn sexy voice?"

CLICK.

She checked in the day after me. Was she hiding like me? I wondered how many other guests were hiding in this hotel.