The President's daughter

Chapter One

She was so good at this. Disguise. As usual, the BWI Marshall Airport station, Washington was crowded. This could be her chance of usurping her pursuers laying siege for her. What she was sure of was that they were here but she wasn't sure of their numbers. She browsed through the expansive terminal looking for her assailants, she couldn't pinpoint anyone odd. She stood up from where she sat and headed for the Check-in counter. Her right hand was busy dragging the travel bag while her left hand never felt tired with the handbag. She was very sure she was being followed. A few meters away from the check-in counter, she stopped abruptly, placing the handbag on the travel bag and rummaged inside. She found them: a mirror large enough for a hand and a hairbrush. She took the mirror in the left hand and the hairbrush in the right hand. Then she started brushing... or was she? She actually was looking for her pursuers through the mirror. She tilted the mirror to the left, away from her face. The hairbrush still not leaving her head. With a great scrutiny, she spotted one at the far corner of a wall. She tilted again to the right, there he was, pressing a phone to his ear. She smiled. She was sure they were more of them. She put the mirror and her hairbrush away and continued through to the counter.  At the counter, she joined the longue queue and waited for her turn. She quickly glanced back to check for her pursuers. She found them and quickly spotted a new one. She smiled. This is getting more interesting, she thought. Her turn came minutes after. She showed her documents. The lady behind the counter scrutinized her passports, then looked her face for confirmation.

“Pamela Paterson?” the lady asked for confirmation.
“Yes, that's me. Any problem?” She probed.
“And you are going to Nigeria, ma'am?”
“Yes. Any problem with that?”
The lady went back to her computer, punching her keyboards vigorously.

“I'm sorry but I'm going to hold you for a few minutes. Could you step aside please.” The Lady said.
“Really? But why?” Pamela was now getting agitated, but inwardly she was happy this was going as planned.

She stepped away from the queue and waited. She looked across the terminal and saw four men coming her way. So they were only four. She turned back to the lady.

“Please, excuse me, I'd like to use the rest room.” Pamela said.
“I'm sorry ma, you can't. You should just....”
“What do you mean I can't. ” She cut her short. “Do you know who I am? Keeping me here waiting and telling I can't go to the rest room?”
“I know who you are ma. And that's why I'm keeping you waiting. Just a few minutes and you'd be on the plane.”

Pamela looked behind her and saw the men fast approaching her.
“You know what, I can't hold the damn thing anymore. My passports is with you. And there is my luggage. Sorry I have to go do this.” she said as she ambled to the rest room with quickened pace. The lady behind the counter protested but she was gone before she could say anything.

She went into a lounge and straight to the restroom. She frantically searched her handbag she brought along. She removed the contents she needed and placed them on a platform. Scattered across the platform was a wig, some clothes, a passports and some make-up. She quickly tore off her clothes and donned the one on the platform. She quickly performed her magic with the make up. She strolled over to the mirror and there she was, looking really different. She had changed from Pamela, a cute American girl to Catherine, a sexy French lady. She wasn't complete, she knew. She checked the passport on her passport and saw the missing item: the red wig. She quickly put it on and there she was once again, perfect as the picture on her passport. All thanks to  Franco, she said inwardly. Now donned in a mini gown and a jacket, she jilted her handbag and put her passport and other key things into a purse, then she stepped outside into the lounge. She eyed everywhere and couldn't see the men looking for her anywhere in the lounge. She Stepped outside into the terminal and scanned the area. There beside a wall she saw two of the men talking. She smiled and ambled to the counter once again. No one was tailing her now. She was free.