Chapter 3 - The Passport With My Face
I planted one heel against Gregory’s chest and drove him back onto the carpet.
He stopped fighting the moment my hand touched the passport.
“Don’t let them see that,” he gasped.
That frightened me more than the bat.
I kept my foot against him and lifted the document from the suitcase.
My photograph appeared inside.
The image had been taken six months earlier during what Gregory called a surprise anniversary portrait session.
But the name beneath it was not mine.
The text was blurred by my shaking vision, yet I could see enough to know the identity belonged to another woman.
Different surname.
Different birth date.
Same face.
My face.
“What is this?”
Gregory’s breathing became shallow.
“A precaution.”
“For what?”
He said nothing.
The cabin-door handle began moving from outside.
Security had started overriding the lock.
Gregory looked at the passport, then at the balcony.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“You attacked me with a bat and packed a false passport with my photograph. I’m running out of innocent interpretations.”
He swallowed.
“My father arranged it.”
Of course.
The man whose marriage advice involved breaking women.
“What was the identity for?”
Gregory closed his eyes briefly.
“For after the cruise.”
“After what?”
Before he could answer, the cabin door opened several inches against the security latch.
A uniformed officer appeared through the gap.
“Mrs. Hartman, move away from him.”
“There’s another passport.”
The officer’s expression sharpened.
“Do not touch anything else.”
Gregory attempted to rise.
I pressed him down again.
The security officer entered with a second crew member once the latch was cut. They separated Gregory from me and placed him near the wall.
No dramatic rescue.
No instant ending.
Only controlled movement and dozens of questions.
The first officer examined the open suitcase without disturbing its contents.
A second passport lay beneath the first.
This one carried Gregory’s photograph under another name.
There were also prepaid cards, a satellite phone, cash in multiple currencies, and a folded itinerary whose details remained unreadable from where I stood.
The officer looked toward Gregory.
“You were flagged during embarkation.”
“For what?” I asked.
He hesitated.
Then answered carefully.
“The passport number in your husband’s luggage was connected to a passenger who died three years ago.”
Gregory glared at him.
“You had no right to search my private property.”
“We haven’t searched it yet.”
The officer looked toward the bat on the floor.
“You gave us cause to enter after an automated safety alert from this cabin.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“What alert?”
The officer pointed toward a small smoke-and-sound sensor near the bed.
The bat striking the wall during Gregory’s swing had triggered an acoustic distress system installed in premium suites.
The system transmitted a short audio sample to security.
They had heard Gregory threaten me.
But that still did not explain why they already knew something suspicious had been brought aboard.
The officer picked up his radio.
“Notify the captain. We have a probable identity-fraud situation.”
Gregory’s face changed.
Not embarrassment.
May you like
Terror.
And I realized the false passports were only one piece of whatever he had planned.
