Frostbite
“I’d just touched down in Chicago from Newark and taken a cab over from O’Hare. Another airline, another identity. While heading toward my gate for the Southwest flight to Oakland, I reached into my jacket pocket. Sifted through my multiple SIM cards and retrieved the carefully marked one I was looking for. Not breaking my stride, I switched it to my other pocket where I swapped it out with a different SIM card inside my cell.
When I stopped to review the overhead departure schedule, I placed a ...call.
“Yo. Who this?” Francis Martin Quinones, the head valet attendant at the Stratus hotel in Las Vegas, answered. Two hours ahead, so probably hadn’t left for work yet.
“Uptown callin’,” I replied, donning the voice I used whenever I dealt with him. Francis not only funneled business my way, like he did with the Arturo Diaz job, but had helped me on a previous job in Vegas. Dude really thought I was from Harlem. And with him being from Queens by way of the Bronx, it didn’t hurt to keep up the illusion.MoreLess
When I stopped to review the overhead departure schedule, I placed a ...call.
“Yo. Who this?” Francis Martin Quinones, the head valet attendant at the Stratus hotel in Las Vegas, answered. Two hours ahead, so probably hadn’t left for work yet.
“Uptown callin’,” I replied, donning the voice I used whenever I dealt with him. Francis not only funneled business my way, like he did with the Arturo Diaz job, but had helped me on a previous job in Vegas. Dude really thought I was from Harlem. And with him being from Queens by way of the Bronx, it didn’t hurt to keep up the illusion.MoreLess
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