There were no screeching tires and no fanfare that would have preceded the closing of the trap, which meant Joe had come through after all. While he waited for Whitaker to return from a short trip around the block to make sure it wasn’t a setup, Taylor couldn’t help but consider how many times Whitaker and Joe Solomon had lectured him on following procedure to the letter. Now here they were, both operating well outside of what they should have done because they thought it was the right thing to do.
He agreed with them in this instance, of course, but it was going to be tough to keep from saying 'I told you so' the next time they started lecturing him on proper protocols.
They drove a mile into the city, roughly towards the area where the person Graf called was located, before pulling off into an empty parking lot.
“What are we doing?” Taylor asked.
“Joe said he’d leave a car and supplies. I wanted to see what supplies he left,” she said, popping the trunk and getting out of the car.
Taylor followed Whitaker around to the rear of the car, stopping next to her to look into the trunk. Inside sat a box filled with a variety of items, including changes of clothes for the two of them, a satellite phone that wouldn’t be traceable by the cell networks, and a box of blond hair dye.
“If we’re going to have to start operating closer into town, this isn’t a bad idea,” Whitaker said, holding up the hair dye.
“Probably.”
She pulled out the phone, a baseball cap from the stack of clothes, and the hair dye, leaving everything else in the trunk.
“Let’s find somewhere where I can do this,” she said, walking back towards the driver's side.
The place they found was a fairly run-down gas station with a bathroom around the back of the buildings. Taylor sat in the car, sitting low in the seat, new cap pulled low on his head, watching the small building while Whitaker went inside.
When she came walking back out, hair still wet, it was kind of a shock. Whitaker’s red hair with its loose curls had been one of the notable things about her, especially when she wasn’t in work mode with it pulled in a tight bun.
Beyond the new color, Whitaker had cut her hair to a shoulder length. For most people, but especially women, hair was one of those things that people use as part of their identity. Seeing her now, Whitaker seemed almost like a different person. Her face even seemed slightly differently shaped, now that it was framed by a hair that no longer fell straight back under its own weight.
“That’s weird,” he said when she got back into the car.
“I know. I looked in the mirror and thought, who the hell are you.”
“Hopefully, everyone else will have the same thought. That washes out, though, right?”
“What, you don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s just so different.”
“I’m just messing with you. No, it doesn’t wash out. It will probably grow out eventually, but once this is all behind us, I’m going to dye it back to my normal color. It’s too weird.”
“Yeah. Why’d you cut it?”
“Seemed like a good idea. If I was going to change it to be less recognizable, why not go all out.”
Whitaker pulled out of the parking lot, heading back towards their destination while Taylor stared at her, trying to adjust to the new Whitaker.
“Stop staring at me.”
“Sorry,” he said, looking out the passenger window instead. “Let’s find a hotel somewhere near the cafe. You can give your friend the number to the satellite phone, and then we’ll wait until Graf calls the banker. Even with your new look, I’d prefer if we were off the street as much as possible.”
“Sure.”
They drove on into the center of Berlin, ending up at a hotel a half-mile from the city center. Their target cafe was less than a block away, around the corner from the hotel they’d found. It was more expensive then Taylor would usually have liked, but it was the only one in the general area. Luckily, one of the things Solomon had left them was a stack of money, not a fortune, but enough to let them operate for a few days.
Taylor waited in the car while a now blond Whitaker went inside and rented them a room. She’d thought ahead and got one close to the street so they could get out fast once they were alerted to a call. Once inside their room, they both decided to take showers again and change into the clean clothes Joe Solomon had provided.
Taylor couldn’t help but wonder if he was getting soft. When Taylor had been in the service, he would sometimes spend weeks in the field, just changing his socks occasionally. Now he’d gone one day without clean clothes, and he was itching to change.
“Now we wait,” Whitaker said, sitting on the bed next to Taylor.
They’d showered, changed, gone through everything Joe had left for them, and were now just cooling their heels, waiting for something to happen.
“Yep. I don’t think it’ll happen today. It’s already getting dark, and if this guy’s moving money around, it’ll need to happen when banks are open.”
“In my experience, criminals like to operate in cash. Harder to trace that way.”
“Graf probably has the money pulled out and turned into cash so he can hand it out, but I doubt the Trust is sending
