Eliska Novak put out her cigarette and sat up in bed, silently placing her feet on the floor. Sliding her hand under the bed sheet, she pulled out her bra and slipped it on. The man next to her was still asleep and she was hoping for a painless exit. Eliska had worked her way up the social ladder, and though most of her clientele had some sense of decency, there was the occasional bastard who couldn't be turned down. The finer things, she thought. The finer things make it worth it. Five-star hotels, private jets, cocktails with celebrities, even dining with foreign ministers. All she had to do was be a pretty face-beautiful enough to be noticed, but plain enough to be forgotten. No one seemed to care when she disappeared from home, so why should she?

She walked across the room, picked up the black dress draped over the back of the chair and stepped into it. She pulled her long dark brown hair into a ponytail before wrapping it in a tight bun. She had twelve hours left until her flight. Plenty of time to get cleaned up, grab something to eat, do some shopping, and tie up loose ends. She was ready to disappear for a while. As she picked up her purse, a small, brown envelope fell from the table.

The man in bed rolled over. He murmured, slurring his words: "Eliza, m'dear ."

Eliska held still until his breathing returned to normal, then checked the envelope. 10,000 US dollars, as promised. She placed it in her purse and slipped quietly out of the room.

***

"Scotch and soda, please."

"You've got it."

Paul Leclerc placed his rucksack on the barstool next to him and pulled out a postcard and pen. When he was sixteen years old, he made his sister Claire a promise to send her postcards from every city he visited. He was proud to have kept that promise for ten years now.

"Here you go," the bartender said. "Anything else?"

"No, that's fine. Thanks."

Paul sipped his drink of choice and thought about Claire. He was looking forward to seeing her again. He was born in Marseille and grew up there until he was old enough to start working on some of the local ships at the harbor. His pleasant disposition and brilliant memory, especially for remembering people, made him an all-around likable guy, earning him the nickname "Names and Faces." His memory also came in handy when gambling on the ships, something he'd taken advantage of on more than one occasion. He knew how often to win and lose, managing to stay under the radar while saving enough money to open his own bar back home in Marseilles. A couple of times a year he travelled to different cities around the world, looking for small distilleries with unique flavors to bring home to his bar. He was ready to get back there soon. He signed the card, finished his drink, and stood.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked, pulling several bills from his pocket.

"Six-fifty," the bartender replied.

Paul placed the money on the bar. "Is there a post office around here?"

"There's a mailbox around the corner."

"Great, thanks." Paul gave the bartender a kind smile and walked out the door.

***

Jian Zhang had dreamt of the painting in front of him so many times he could hardly believe he was standing in front of the real thing. But he was. And he was in awe.

"It's quite special, isn't it?" Agnieszka asked, her face beaming with delight.

Special was an understatement. He had rarely seen light depicted so gloriously. The painting seemed to swallow him completely.

"How did you manage to get ahold of it?" Jian asked, still dumbfounded. He knew his wife was a well-respected art dealer, but even he thought this acquisition was slightly out of her league.

"It's on its way to London," she said. "We are on our way to London!"

Jian kept his voice calm. "What do you mean we?"

"It's going to be showcased at a temporary exhibit and I got a call this morning asking if I could accompany it. Apparently the client's first choice backed out and they need someone immediately. I called Hai and he can take care of the office while you're gone."

This news made Jian feel sick to his stomach. He'd taken over his parents' restaurant business when they decided to move back to Guangzhou, causing his cousin Hai to feel slighted, making the rivalry between them even worse.

"This is an amazing opportunity and I know you wouldn't want to miss it. Plus, they've offered to cover both of our expenses. I can't turn it down. We can't turn it down."

Jian knew she was right. He loved art as much as she did, if not more. It'd come as no surprise he'd met his wife in an art gallery. She'd just finished school and was working at her first serious job. When she caught Jian standing too close to a Vermeer and asked him to step away, he looked into her eyes and explained how the light represented mortality and being as close to it as possible reminded him to look at each situation as if it were fleeting. Agnieszka remained silent, but her smile told him he was a man she wouldn't mind seeing more often.

"How long is the exhibition?" Jian asked.

"Just two weeks," she replied.

Jian could tell there was no talking her out of it.

"We can be on the next flight in five hours," she added. "They've already booked our flights."

"Okay," he said, feeling only slightly relieved. "Let's go."

***

"Thank you so much for your visit. It was wonderful to have you here," Dr. Willis said, stretching out his hand.

Leah Carlsson wasn't a fan of handshakes and tried making goodbyes as short as possible. "My pleasure," she replied, clutching her suitcase and binder, making her hands appear more full than they were.

"You know, Dr. Carlsson, your lectures are always well attended. If you're interested in some guest teaching, as department head I'm sure I could ."

"Thank you," Leah said, cutting him off, "but I'm quite busy with several projects of my own at the moment."

"Developing another code?" he asked.

"Something like that." Good Lord, she thought, can't this guy take a hint?

"It must be brilliant if it's coming from a mind like yours."

Leah had to put in a conscious effort to make sure her upper lip didn't rise in disgust. Why did everyone chalk up her success to genius and not hard work? Plus, if anyone took a look at her résumé they would see an impressive list of scholarships and awards. She figured it must be because not many mathematicians receive a full professorship by the age of twenty-eight, especially women. Some of her colleagues at the University of Stockholm assumed it was elitism, that she came from a rich, well-educated family, and there was always somebody to open the right door at the right time. She had gotten better at letting this idea roll off her back, but sometimes it still got to her.

"Check-in's already started," she told him, trying to shake him off. "Don't want to miss my flight."

"Of course," Dr. Willis said, hailing Leah a taxi.

Leah smiled politely as he waved good-bye. She was looking forward to returning home soon, to being in the comfort of her own walls and working on building her own environment. That was where she felt most at ease, in a house of codes. She pulled out her phone to check the time and saw a text message from her brother.

Soooo, how was it? Did they offer you a job AND an apartment? Don't settle for anything less than a penthouse. ;-)

She couldn't help but smile. She loved her brother and knew he both understood and appreciated her hard work and success and appreciated how she didn't let it change their relationship.

I told them I'll think about it. After all, it IS America . ;-) See you soon.

She put her phone back in her pocket and looked out the window.

***

"I'm proud to see how you're holding up, son. I know it's been a rough year."

Nicholas Clark gripped his dad a little tighter, showing his appreciation. He was much better at expressing his feelings physically. Words weren't his thing. They never had been.

"Let me know when you get home?"

"Sure thing," Nicholas said.

This exchange had become routine since the first time Nicholas visited his dad back in New York City. His parents had divorced when he was fifteen years old, and though the courts had granted his mom custody, allowing them to move to Cape Town, he was still required to spend holidays with his dad. He didn't mind spending summers in the city and hanging out with his old friends. The visits got shorter once he became a legal adult and joined the police force, but he still managed to see his dad at least once every year.

Nick grabbed his suitcase from the trunk and set it on the curb. He gave his dad a farewell salute, turned around, and made his way inside to the check-in counter.

***

Felicity Wilson sat comfortably in 11B, watching the rest of the passengers walk by as they searched for their seats...