Denise woke up slowly, groggily.  The room was dark, a light blanket was covering her, and Denise quickly realized why: she was only wearing a pair of pantyhose!  She pulled the blanket tightly over her as she heard footsteps and then the door opened - but the room stayed dark.

"Ah, Denise Miller, you're awake, I see," the older, gravely female voice spoke.  Denise tried to make out the woman's features but there just wasn't enough light.

"What happened?  Who are you?  Why am I here?  Where are my clothes?"

"Well, I'm hoping you can fill in some of those same answers for me.  I work for the airport, you're in my office, hopefully nobody knows you're here.  When I found you, you were inside a suitcase, moving along the belt at the baggage claim.  There was another woman - a German woman, I believe."

"Kerstin," Denise breathed.  "Oh God, this is awful!"

"Oh, it gets worse.  The suitcases were opened on the baggage carousel before I or anyone could get to them - people took pictures.  LOTS of pictures.  I'm pretty sure your boobs are all over the internet now, Miss America's Top Model."  She paused.  "So you know this other woman, then?  Someone showed up and took her away before we could get her into a safe place like this."

"Umm, yeah," Denise replied, "we're friends, we were just on vacation," she added as she rubbed her temple.  She knew she had to be very careful what she said, or who she said it to.  She didn't want to divulge the real reason she was on that plane.

"The plane you were on, the flight was from Hamburg to New York.  Is there anything you remember, anything that might help US understand why you ended up unconscious inside your own suitcase, Miss Miller?"

Denise suddenly remembered the reason for the trip.  She reached back, checking the seam of her pantyhose - hose that her 'bosses' insisted she wear, even though she was equally insistent that she hated them.  And the item that was hidden there previously, a memory card, was gone.  Someone had gotten the best of her, of Kerstin; someone knew about her mission, had overpowered them both, knocked them out, searched her until they found what they were looking for and then packed them inside their own suitcases before landing, making sure they wouldn't cause any more trouble.

"Miss Miller?"

"Oh, sorry, my head is still a little wonky.  I...I got up to go to the bathroom.  My friend had gotten up to go a few minutes before, but when I got back there there wasn't anyone but the stewardess, and...that's the last thing I remember."

The woman went to the window, closing a shade, then she turned on a light.  Denise could now make out her features quite well - she appeared to be maybe in her 50s, short, slightly graying hair, and wearing a blue uniform.  She clicked the screen on her computer and an image came up, for Denise to see:



"THAT is what is all over the internet right now."  The woman watched Denise's expression turn from surprise to shock.  There was a knock on the door, and the woman got up, opened the door just enough for the bag that was being delivered to come through it.  "Ah, looks like they found your clothes, hidden inside the beverage cart," she smiled as she handed the bag to Denise.  "I'll let you get dressed while I go through some of these surveillance images they just sent me from Hamburg."

As Denise slipped her short, low cut designer dress back up her legs, over her torso, and zipped it up, her thoughts went not to her employers at the modeling agency - while this probably isn't what they wanted, they could work with it - but to her 'other' employer, the Global Intelligence Network Agency, or G.I.N.A., and she knew THEY would not be happy with her failure.  At least, it seemed that her cover had not been blown, but she knew that if she ever wanted another assignment, she'd have to make this right somehow, figure out who had stolen the memory card she'd been tasked with protecting and delivering and get it back.

"Okay," the woman stated as she turned back around just as Denise had finished putting her red jacket and shoes back on, "do you recognize this stewardess?"  And she pointed to the monitor:



"Yes," Denise breathed, "she's the one that was on the plane.  She's the one that was at the bathroom when I went back there."  What Denise DIDN'T add was that she wasn't referring to the woman dressed as a stewardess, but to the woman walking behind her and to her right.  One thing Denise had picked up during her extensive modeling career was reading the details in faces, after all presenting her face in its best possible light was paramount to her success.

"Her name is Steffi Koenig.  She's a chief stewardess, and she's not been seen since the plane landed.  Sounds like she could be the one responsible for this situation.  Have you ever met her before?"

Denise shook her head no, although she'd sensed that Kerstin DID know her when they'd been on the plane, that they had some prior connection.  And the wheels were starting to turn in the supermodel's brain, she was starting to make some connections.

"Umm, Ma'am, would you mind...sending me that photo?  Let me sit with it a while, and maybe something else will jog my memory."

"Of course.  You're free to go, if you're feeling up to it.  Please, take my card, and call me if you remember anything else."

Denise gave the airport security chief her cell phone number so that the woman could send her the photo via text.  And then, thanking her for her discretion, she slipped out the door, quietly making her way down a dark corridor to an unmarked exit and then making a call.  

Denise knew what she had to do.  She needed to catch the next flight back to Hamburg.  The real Steffi Koenig might be in serious trouble, and she needed to find out who this mystery woman was who'd clearly taken Steffi's identity and had also taken the very package Denise was meant to deliver.

Her work for G.I.N.A. was not finished, she declared to herself!  No, it was only just beginning!