“Do I stay in the taxi?” she asked, sounding confused.
“No. Get out of the cab and walk.”
“What about my luggage?”
“I told you. No luggage. Just that shoulder bag. Jesus, Tanya. Listen to me. Go to some place other than the Palace or the Ritz. Downgrade yourself and do not ask for the penthouse suite, ok? Register under some French name…you have enough of those aliases anyway. Use the business cards you have if they want ID, which they won’t if you pay cash in advance. Give them a couple of those five hundred Euro bills you love to pass around. It works every time. Got that?”
“Yeth,” she sobbed, sniffling and blowing her nose harder. “No one takes five hundreds any more. It’s Hell trying to pay with them.”
“I know it’s tough, Honey, but just smile and show a little tit if you have to.
