The room where he’d slept held ten twin beds—all occupied. As he looked about the room, Tony even noticed that one bed contained two people. Laying his head back on the pillow, he exhaled and questioned this reality. Venice, Italy had always been the lap of luxury. From the first time he visited with his grandfather, it was a milieu of opulence. Looking up at the cracked plaster and listening to the sounds of multiple sleeping people, Tony knew the customary five star suites and gourmet meals were nearby; nevertheless, until he reached Geneva and accessed the safety deposit box, they might as well be a million miles away.
Rubbing his face, the softness of his recent beard growth continued to catch him by surprise. It was part of his new persona. The proprietors of the hostel didn’t know him as Anthony Rawlings or even as Anton Rawls. No, the identification he carried, as well as the passport he held, contained a different name.
His departure from the United States had been well planned, well executed, and well—sudden. After the FBI agents removed him from his hotel suite, Tony was given two options: be retained on charges stemming from harming Claire Nichols or disappear and allow the FBI to continue an ongoing investigation. The Federal Bureau of Investigation guaranteed the charges would eventually be confirmed, amended, or dropped—though their disclosure was less than full. The fact the FBI offered an out—a plan B—seemed preposterous. Tony knew something wasn’t as it appeared. After all, when it came to deceptive appearances—he was the master.
It was, without a doubt, the card game of Tony’s life. As he listened to the potential choices, he maintained his poker face and kept his cards close to his chest.
The FBI made it perfectly clear; he was going to be protected from the undisclosed threat. How he chose to accept that protection was up to him: incarceration or temporary vanishment. Although the agents offered a minimum security prison with many liberties, incarceration didn’t sound appealing, even if it was, as they said, for his own good.
Tony chose option number two.
Of course, Anthony Rawlings wouldn’t take their offer at face value. Being the true businessman, Tony negotiated the terms of his disappearance. During those negotiations, he failed to mention the hundreds of millions of dollars he had socked away in Swiss bank accounts. The FBI made demands: all contact with anyone from his past was forbidden. No one could know about his current situation, with the exception of Brent, since the bureau had a gag order signed by him. Tony agreed to the loss of contact and offered anonymity; in return, he was free to travel. Tony told them it was his opportunity to see the world without the responsibilities of his empire—a rather transparent lie—if he had time to work on it, Tony knew he could’ve come up with something better. Not buying their story about Claire leaving on her own, he needed the ability to search.
Agreeing to his proposal, the FBI provided Tony with a new identity. With that, they even provided limited funds, including credit cards; however, they too had stipulations for their negotiations. They wanted to be able to reach Tony at all times. When he countered their demand, they remained adamant—determined that they needed a way to contact him in the event of new information regarding Claire. It was clearly an attempt at manipulation—move; countermove.
Honestly, in Tony’s opinion, the FBI had been less than forthcoming. Why would he all of a sudden believe that they needed to contact him to reveal deep secrets? There was no reason to believe that the distance between he and them would suddenly make them forthcoming. On the other hand, Tony couldn’t take the chance of missing information—if they were willing to share.
After their negotiations, the agents gave Tony his new identity and a cell phone. The final words from Agent Jackson still infiltrated Tony’s consciousness from time to time, Mr. Rawlings, this phone must be with you at all times. You’re not to re-enter the United States or contact anyone. If you fail in these directives, option two is gone, and you are suddenly a fugitive on the run from the federal government. Be confident—we will find you.
Tony stood straighter. Although his mind was dominated by thoughts and concerns about Claire, the agent’s words registered. He considered retorting: perhaps like you’ve been able to find my ex-wife? In a brief moment of decorum, he chose to remain silent. Maintaining his look of indifference, he replied, “I find this extremely unusual—all this deception and secrecy over a possible charge of domestic violence.”
“Oh, Mr. Rawlings, we both know it’s more than that, and when the evidence presents itself, I know of more than one agent who’s looking forward to contacting you, via your phone.”
Tony tried to make sense of the agent’s innuendos; his mind swirled with possibilities. While he debated his response, Agent Jackson added, “Rest assured, when it comes to our own—we never forget, and we never stop. No case is ever too old or trail too cold.”
“Agent Jackson, I seriously have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
“Of course not, Mr. Rawlings. That seems to be a reoccurring theme with you. Perhaps, while abroad, you should look into treatment for your memory issues.”
Tony’s jaw clenched. Fighting with the man who was presenting him with temporary freedom would be counterproductive; nevertheless, the displeasure rang clear in his voice. “I don’t have memory issues, Agent. I’m sure we’ll be talking again.”
“Yes, I’m sure we will—soon.”
Tony knew that his current paradigm was his own doing. He could’ve taken the bureau’s credit cards and identity and maintained a better standard of living than he was currently enduring, but he wasn’t willing to play by their rules—he had his own rules.
Before Tony left the clandestine meeting with Agent Jackson, he made one request. Tony asked that Brent not be informed of this new reality. It was one of the few unselfish moves Tony had ever made for Brent. It was strange how, when faced with the possibility of never seeing him again, Tony finally saw the friend Brent had been. This non-disclosure was a gift. If things turned out badly, and if undisclosed truths became evident, then Tony didn’t want Brent suffering the consequences. Agent Jackson promised to continue the ruse.
With his newly-issued government identity, Tony made it to the airport with a ticket in hand. After passing security, he slipped from the terminal, and with a newly purchased phone, he contacted the only man Tony knew, without a doubt, would respond. He didn’t consider it breaking the FBI’s rules—Tony considered it playing by his own rules—the way he’d always lived his life.
Tony’s requests to Eric were simple: money from the safe—not enough to raise suspicion—the key to the safety deposit box, and his alternative identifications. In case Eric was being tracked, Tony told him to also use alternative identification. As Tony predicted, Eric didn’t question Tony’s directives or motives—he never had.
Tony did keep the FBI issued phone—for a little while. After purchasing an international disposable phone—with the government given credit card—he texted the new number to the only contact listed within the FBI phone. Tony knew too well that phones could be tracked, and he was pretty confident the phone he’d been given was a constant beep on someone’s radar. Leaving the phone in a bathroom in New York State, that beep would now remain stagnant. As Eric drove him across the U.S. border into Canada, Tony received a text:
“WE’LL ASSUME THIS IS OUR NEW CONTACT NUMBER?”
Tony grinned—they’d given him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’d replied with a statement of non-compliance. Their cooperation within his parameters wasn’t a win, but it was something. Right now, Tony would take that. With a grin, he replied: