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Conspiracy at Desert One
A novel

By Bernace Charles
The Iranian

Chapter Sixteen

Day Three
August 1999

Wes Walker woke up on a hotel mattress that left his back stiff after a restless sleep. Though he was fifty, and there were months of not taking care of himself, Walker knew he was fortunate for the five years Sally was with him. Sally got him back into a gym four nights a week due to her teaching an aerobics class at a Tulsa health club.

The second blessing for Sally entering his life was Sally had returned self-discipline lost through the years of success. It was at a time he drifted from a steady course of writing no less than twenty pages a day. Now, Wes knew that, though he drifted into his habit of smoking and drinking, the rehabilitation of a sluggish body hadn't been totally lost. Gazing on his frame in a mirror, Walker knew there was still a robust definition that shaped his being. Wes knew there was still hope of maintaining further years of vitality if he disciplined himself. This morning there was no desire for a cigarette and the night before he drank ice tea at dinner in the hotel restaurant.

Before going to dinner he walked to a drug store and bought a hair-darkening product. He switched the papers taken from the bank in Tulsa for a set taken from the Texas bank. He left his key on the television; made certain he wiped everything he touched and exited the hotel by a side exit so no one would see him leave.


Thirty minutes later, Walker exited the city in a rental sedan under the name of Samuel Burns. He drove west toward Dallas. Along with the papers for multiple switching of identities, he now used ones to document a false history of working for a New Orleans company selling pipeline equipment. His gray hair was now black and he appeared ten years younger. Twenty miles out of Paris, Texas, and now using the name Samuel Burns, Wes turned on the car's air conditioning to seek relief from the day's overpowering humidity. >>> Go to Chapter Seventeen

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