My best friend, Abigail, and I landed in the Bahamas for my 18th birthday get away. She was 19 already, but we wanted to wait to travel until I was 18. We grabbed our bags from baggage check, and headed out to our hotel.

Unpacking was a bit more interesting though. When I unzipped my suitcase, instead of my bathing suits and flowy dresses, it was packed full of stacks of $100 bills. Abigail and I were dumbfounded, with such a unique suitcase, it should have been impossible to mix up with someone else’s. Apparently they thought so too.

We didn’t know what to do, my clothes were who knows where, and the money in the unmarked suitcase was probably meant to be used for illegal activities. There was no name or number on the case, so there was no way to contact its owner. My only hope was that the owner would see my contact information on my bag and let me know when we could trade back.

Soon enough, they texted my phone, and told me to sit in the airport lobby at 3 that afternoon with the suitcase at my feet, sunglasses on my head, and a book in hand. It was such an odd request, but I figured I would do as they said, but bring Abigail along just in case he was a creep who wanted to kidnap me.

By 2:30, we were in our positions, ready to get my clothes back and hit the beaches. 3 o’clock on the dot, a man in a suit, with a hat pulled low over his brim, and sunglasses covering his eyes, picked the suitcase off the the ground and placed mine where it was, his movements barely noticeable.

After he passed by, I let out the sigh of relief I didn’t know I was holding, and I opened my suitcase to make sure he didn’t go through my personal belongings.

Everything was perfectly in place, save a scrap piece of paper placed on top. I unfolded it and read, “you followed the instructions to a t. If you are ever interested in the spy business, contact me through the number in your phone.”