You're an airplane stripper on a wealthy industrial titan's private jet and today the wealthy industrial titan seems distracted.
"Don't like what you see, Jeff?" you ask.
"Alice, how long have we known each other," Jeff says.
"Eleven days," you say.
"Eleven days," he repeats. "Then you're the only one I can trust."
He asks you to put your clothes back on and sit down next to him. Then he shows you a spreadsheet he's created listing the names of people who worked at the World Trade Center who called in sick on 9-11, and showing how many of them are descended from Masons.
"You've cracked it wide open," you say, convincingly.
"I've burned this to a disc for you to keep. If anything should happen to me, make sure this gets out."
"Of course," you say.
After the plane lands you'll tell your Plane Stripping agency you don't want to dance on Jeff's plane anymore. A few days later, Jeff will be killed by the Masons and you'll find out that he left you his entire fortune in his will, with a note that reads, "You'll need every dime of this money because you're going to be on the run for the rest of your life. GO NOW!"
You'll get on Jeff's plane, yours now, and you'll introduce yourself to the stripper already dancing for you. She'll tell you her name's Judith and you'll tell her to take a seat because the two of you have a lot of ground to cover if the truth is ever going to get out.
Happy Airplane Stripper Day!
