Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.
“What are you writing Uncle?” Chad asked Sam.”And why’re you using a calligraphy pen? Carry that in your back pocket?”
“Chad, you shouldn’t be joking.You’re going to give this letter to a trusted bicycle courier. My friend I’m writing can help us; he knows my writing. Pretend the courier outside the hotel side entrance is a buddy.” Sam instructed.
Chad grabbed the letter. “I have a lot of questions Uncle Sam, about my Dad and about why we’re in trouble.”
Sam nodded. “Go meet the courier, then we’ll talk. I’ll sweep the room for bugs while you’re gone again. I don’t think they’re any, otherwise . . .”
Chad gulped, quickly leaving the hotel room. He walked to the side entrance of the hotel expecting a guy his age on a bike.
Instead, he found a trashed bicycle. There was no courier, only drops of blood.
Chad ran as fast he could back to his hotel room terrified. He thought he had taken the right turn, but when he turned around he saw he was at room 395 and not 305.
“Are you lost hon?” A smiling hotel maid asked him.
“No you’re not. You are definitely not fine Chad.” A deep voice said.
Chad peered behind him to see his Uncle Sam standing there. Sam shot the maid through the head and collected a gun the maid had hidden in her uniform.
“You can’t trust anyone.” Uncle Sam told Chad harshly.
Chad followed his Uncle out of the hotel, clutching the calligraphy written letter in his hand.
Please see Part 1 here.
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