Lauren locked the door and went the closet, and opened a panel that housed a concealed safe. Inside were bundles of money, a small hand gun, three passports — United State, Great Britain, and France plus two disposable cell phones. Taking one of the cell phones she dialed a familiar number.
“This is Bernie.”
Her sudden tears surprised her. She managed to choke out, “Uncle Bernie —”
“Who is this?”
“Right. What do you want this time?”
“This time —?”
“You’ve got ten seconds to prove you’re Lauren.” His voice was gruff, resigned.
“You gave me my first pony when I was six —”
“Yeah, that birthday party was covered by Town and Country — common knowledge. Five seconds.”
“When my mom died,” Lauren’s voice quavered at the memory of her mother. “You came up to the Casa that night, wrapped me up in the quilt Sunbonnet Sue Quilt that Gram made. We walked out to Indian Rock, where mom loved to meditate. You told me she died. We cried until there was nothing left. The sky was clear and filled with shooting stars. You told me it was the heavens celebrating mom's arrival. It was years before I realize it was Peruses."
Silence was followed by throat clearing, a cough. “Where are you.”
“We have a corporate plane in Greece, I can have there within 48 hours.”
“I can’t wait that long.”