So What Happens To Me?

Six

I was trying to make up my mind what I was going to do with myself on this Monday morning when the telephone bell rang. I was hoping the call would be from Mrs. Essex suggesting a ride, but it was Bernie.

‘Hi! Jack! Look, I’ve had a call from Mr. Essex. Something’s cooking. Will you stick around? From what Jackson tells me the Condor is ahead of time. As soon as I get back, I’ll drop in.’

‘I’ll be here,’ I said and he hung up.

The time was 9.47. I was feeling a little limp. Tim and I had done a movie, then some heavy drinking the previous night. I had got from him that the runway would be finished by the end of the week. He was in a merry mood as he was five weeks ahead of schedule. He told me he would get a big bonus for getting the job done so quickly.

I ordered breakfast and when I had eaten it, I turned on the T.V. and watched an old western. It passed a couple of hours, then I shaved, showered and dressed.

Bernie showed up around 13.00. He looked like a man with a load on his back. Shutting the door, he dropped into a chair.

While I was fixing him a drink I said, ‘Did you talk sense into Pam?’

‘Yes.’ He took the drink. ‘You’re right Jack. I hadn’t thought of that angle. A woman out in the jungle could really foul up this operation.’ He drank, blew out his cheeks. ‘I had a time. God! Women!’

‘What’s cooking with Essex?’ I wasn’t interested in his domestic problems.

‘I’ve got instructions to fly him to Paris tomorrow. The new kite is ready for delivery. So I drop him in Paris, fly back, sell the old kite, take delivery of the new one, go on the course and be ready to collect him from Kennedy when he returns. He flies back from Paris by Pan-Am.’

‘Is Mrs. Essex going with him?’

‘Yes.’ He looked sharply at me. ‘Why the interest?’

‘I want to know where everyone is. And Pam?’

‘The airfield closes down for four weeks. Everyone except Harry, Jean and me go of on vacation. Pam is going to stay with her married sister until the green light goes up, then she flies to Merida and waits for us.’

‘So we have four weeks?’

‘That’s it. I’ve talked to Jackson about you. I’ve told him I need you to handle the servicing of the Condor. So he talked to Mr. Essex and it’s fixed. You’re now on the payroll from today at thirty thousand. You’ll have to see Macklin, the staff manager, who will sign you on and fix everything. Officially, we start work in four weeks’ time, but while you and the rest of them are on vacation, you get paid.’

‘I like that.’ I paused, then went on, ‘Can you give me a date when you fly in the new kite?’

‘October 3rd unless the tests don’t jell.’

This was September 4th.

‘When we hijack this kite, Bernie, we need to be armed. I’m not taking any chances with these greasers. Each of us should have a machine pistol and at least one automatic rifle.’

He stared uneasily at me.

‘You really think there could be trouble?’

‘I don’t know, but I’m taking precautions. Where can we get them?’

‘That’s no problem. We have an armoury here and it’s pretty comprehensive. All we have to do is to help ourselves.’

‘Fine. Now there’s another thing, Bernie. We all have to have false passports. We all have to begin new lives. Do you think Kendrick can fix that?’

‘Hell! I never thought of that. You’re right.’ Bernie hesitated, then nodded. ‘If he can’t, no one can.’

‘I’ll see him today. I’ll want passport photos of you all.’

‘No problem. We always carry spares. I’ll get them for you.’

‘Then another thing. I’ve been thinking more about the pay out, Bernie. I suggested it should be paid in your name to the National Bank of Mexico. This was half-ass thinking. My new thinking is we form a company in Mexico. This is much the safer way. I’ll fly down to Mexico City and fix it up. I thought of calling the company the Blue Ribbon Air Taxi service. Once the company’s set up then Kendrick pays the money into the bank who will credit the company. What do you think?’

He blinked.

‘You’re way ahead of me Jack. That’s fine. I like the Blue Ribbon Air Taxi Service.’ He smiled, looking happy for the first time. ‘You’ll be needing more money, won’t you?’

‘I’ll get it from Kendrick. Get me the photos and leave the rest to me.’

‘Okay.’

‘One more thing. How is the three million to be shared.’

He looked vague.

‘I haven’t really thought about it.’

‘Well, I have. You dreamed up the idea: so you get a million. I handle your idea so I get a million and a quarter. Harry gets three quarters. That’s the way I see it.’

He moved uneasily.

‘You’ve forgotten Pam.’

‘She’s your woman, Bernie. You take care of her. She’s not in the operation.’

He hesitated, then shrugged.

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, so the payout is agreed?’

‘I’ll have to talk to Harry.’

‘Those are my terms. Without me this operation would never get of the pad and you know it.’

He got wearily to his feet.

‘Okay, Jack. It’s agreed.’

When he had gone I rang room service and asked them to send their special for the day. The Maître d’ said in a chilly voice that he understood I was now on the staff. If I wanted to eat, I would have to go to the restaurant.

I then went over to Macklin’s office. He greeted me the way a high executive greets a staff hand. He asked me to return all the credit cards he had given me, then he shoved a form at me. He told me once I had completed the form my first month’s salary would be credited at the Florida Bank. After I had completed the form, he said I was no longer to use the Alfa. Wes Jackson had certainly been busy this morning.

I went over to the restaurant, had lunch and paid for it then returned to my cabin. After a while Bernie came in. He handed me a set of passport photographs.

‘Did you talk to Harry?’ I asked.

‘Yes. He goes along with the share out.’ He looked thoughtfully at me. ‘You seem to have made quite a hit with him.’

‘That’s something. Look Bernie, I’m no longer a VIP here. I need a car.’

‘Take mine: the Buick. I can use a staff car.’ He started towards the door, then paused. ‘I have a hell of a lot of work to do now Jack. We leave tomorrow at midday. What are you going to do with yourself while I’m away?’

‘See Kendrick, then fly down to Mexico City and set up the company, then go home and spend a couple of weeks with my old man.’

‘You can reach me at the Avon Air Corporation, Texas from September 10th. Harry and I will be working on the course.’

‘Okay. Anyway we meet here on October 3rd?’

‘Yes.’

We shook hands.

As he opened the door, he looked uneasily at me. ‘You do think it will jell?’

I grinned at him.

‘It’s got to hasn’t it?’

Louis de Mamey, Kendrick’s stooge, weaved his way down the aisle of the gallery, bordered with art treasures, waving his hand at me.

‘Mr. Crane! How nice!’ he gushed. ‘Claude was only talking about you this morning. We were really wondering when we would see you again.’

I looked around. The vast room was stuffed with items the rich would fall for.

‘Is he around?’

‘Of course. A tiny moment. I’ll tell him,’ and he swished his behind along the aisle and disappeared through a doorway at the end of the gallery. He reappeared in moments and beckoned to me.

I went down the aisle and entered a vast room with a picture window looking onto the sea. sumptuously furnished with what seemed to me impressive looking antiques and pictures that were probably worth a fortune, hanging on the silk-covered walls.

Kendrick was sitting in a vast chair, his feet on a footstool. He rose and offered his hand. His vast face lit up with a roguish smile.

‘So glad, cheri. Do sit down. A tiny drink? Whisky? Champagne? We have everything. Do just say.’

‘Nothing, thanks.’ I lit a cigarette and sat down opposite him. De Mamey lurked in the background. ‘I want false passports.’ I laid the photos on an occasional table near him. ‘Can you fix that?’

‘For whom?’

‘Bernie, Erskine, myself and Pam.’

His eyes studied me, then he nodded.

‘You will have the new names?’

I took out my wallet and handed a slip of paper to him.

‘It can be arranged, but it will cost, cheri.’ He blew out his cheeks and sighed. ‘Everything costs.’

‘You’re financing this caper.’ I said. ‘I’m not interested in costs.’

‘Yes.’ He took the photos and the slip of paper, beckoned to de Mamey and handed them to him. ‘Arrange it, precious.’

De Mamey went away.

Kendrick shifted his awful wig, then looked inquiringly at me.

‘What else, cheri?’

‘I want two thousand dollars in cash.’

He grimaced.

‘It will be deducted from your share.’

‘No, it won’t. It’s for expenses and you’re taking care of the expenses.’

He smiled, but his eyes were like wet stones.

‘Yes.’ He heaved himself to his feet, went to a desk, opened a drawer and after fumbling around for some moments, returned with a roll of bills. ‘You have no doubt that this aircraft will be safely delivered?’

‘Bernie delivers it. I don’t. Ask him.’ I put the money in my hip pocket.

‘You are satisfied with the runway?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. Is there anything else to discuss?’

I got to my feet.

‘Not right now. When will the passports be ready?’

‘Tomorrow afternoon.’

‘I’ll pick them up.’ As I started for the door, he said. ‘You foresee no trouble?’

I stared at him.

‘Not from our side. Have you the money ready? One and a half million dollars?’

‘It will be ready by the end of the week.’

‘I’ll be giving you instructions how to deliver it. We have had a change of ideas about payment. We’re forming a company in Mexico. I’ll give you details later.’

He squinted at me.

‘How very wise to form a company.’

‘Yeah.’ I again stared at him. ‘The kite doesn’t move until we get the advance payment.’

‘I understand.’ He paused, then went on, ‘If you need a sound Mexican lawyer...’

I cut him short.

‘I’ll handle that end of it. Well, so long,’ and left him.

I drove to the Florida Airlines and booked a 10.00 flight to Mexico City on September 6th, then with nothing else to do, I drove down to the beach and spent the rest of the afternoon chatting up a dolly bird who had a Playboy body and a mind like a hole in a wall. Still, she amused me and then, when the sun began to set, she announced she had to return home to cook her husband’s dinner. We parted amicably.

I decided I would take Tim out for a last drinking spree but I found him already packing. He apologised for not coming with me.

‘I’m leaving at the crack of dawn Jack,’ he explained. ‘I’ve got a big job waiting for me in Rhodesia.’

‘You runway builders certainly get around.’ We had a drink together, said goodbye and I left him. I didn’t feel like going out on the town by myself, so I went along to the restaurant, had a light supper and returned to my cabin. I switched on the telly.

Around 22.00 the telephone bell rang. Lifting the receiver, I heard a woman say, ‘Mr. Crane?’

I felt a tingle run up my spine. I didn’t have to be told who was calling. Mrs. Essex had a very special kind of voice: Once heard never forgotten.

‘Hi,’ I said.

‘I will be at my cabin on September 24th for five days,’ she said. ‘You are invited,’ and she hung up.

I replaced the receiver, lit a cigarette, turned of the telly and dropped into a lounging chair. Since she and I had got together, she had been seldom out of my mind. I had kept wondering if our explosive affair had been a ‘ships that pass in the night’ thing: now I knew it wasn’t. Five days and I was invited! Five days with her alone in that hidden cabin! Eighteen days to wait! I drew in a long, deep breath. I didn’t sleep much that night.

The following afternoon I collected the passports. Kendrick was out, but de Mamey coped with me. My passport was good. I was, now Jack Norton. I checked the other passports: they were all as good as mine.

‘Satisfied?’ de Mamey asked.

‘Sure. Give the fatboy my love,’ I said and left him.

My old man was at the station to meet me. He looked taller and thinner and older.

We shook hands and we walked to his beat-up Chevy.

‘How’s it been going Jack?’ he asked as he drove the car away from the little station towards his house.

‘Pretty good Dad. How are things with you.’

‘The usual. One doesn’t expect much when you have reached my age. Still, the bank is going well. I had four new accounts this week.’

A triumph! I thought, and my mind dwelt on the million and a quarter I would soon be owning.

‘That’s fine, dad.’

‘Well, it’s not bad. I’ve got a good steak for your supper tonight. You been eating all right, son?’

‘Sure.’

‘You look fit.’

‘That’s what I am.’

There was a long silence while he drove. I looked at the streets, the small shops, the small time people. Some of them waved to the old man. Already I was beginning to regret coming back, but I had to. This was the last time I would see him. In another thirty days I’d be dead to him and I would have to remain dead if I was to hang onto all that money.

When we got home, I went up to my small shabby bedroom — what a contrast to the luxury cabin on the Essex’s airfield! — and unpacked. Then I went down to the living room. My old man produced a bottle of Cutty Sark.

‘Go ahead Jack. Make yourself a drink,’ he said. ‘Not for me. Whisky doesn’t seem to agree with me anymore.’

I gave him a sharp look.

‘Are you all right. Dad?’

He smiled his gentle smile.

‘I’m sixty-nine. For my age, as they say, I am all right. Get your drink and come and sit down.’

‘When are you going to retire?’

‘The Bank talked about it, but I told them I wanted to carry on. My clients don’t want me to go so it was decided I could keep on until I have to stop.’ He smiled again. ‘I don’t want to stop yet.’

I made myself a stiff whisky and water, found ice, then came and sat down.

‘Tell me what you have been doing,’ he said.

That I wasn’t going to do, but I told him that I was now working for Lane Essex, that I was on his payroll, that a new kite was expected and I had charge of its maintenance.

‘Lane Essex?’ My old man looked impressed. ‘A clever man... he must be worth a billion. They say he has cut corners.’ He shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose any man can make his kind of money without cutting corners.’ He regarded me, his eyes sad. ‘So you’re settling in Paradise City? I won’t see much of you.’

‘Oh, come on. Dad! I hope you’ll take your vacation down there. Anyway, when I’m on vacation, I’ll come here.’ I hated myself talking this way to him for I knew in a couple of weeks I’d never see him again.

‘You hungry, son?’ He heaved himself out of his chair. ‘Do you think it would be an idea to have some fried onions with the steak?’ He looked hopefully at me. ‘I’ve bought some.’

‘Why, sure.’

‘Just leave it to me.’ He started across the room towards the kitchen, paused and asked. ‘Did you meet Mrs. Essex, Jack?’

I stiffened.

‘I met her.’

‘I understand she is a very beautiful woman. I saw a photo of her in a magazine, but photos can be deceptive... is she?’

‘You could say that. Yes, she’s beautiful.’

He nodded and went into the kitchen. I finished my drink, lit a cigarette and thought back on the past week.

I had flown down to Mexico City and had booked in at a minor hotel overlooking the Alameda Gardens. I had gone to the National Bank of Mexico and had introduced myself as Jack Norton. I told the executive that I wanted to form a company with a starting capital of a million and a half dollars. From that moment I had no trouble. He produced forms and filled them in for me. He said there would be no problem. I gave him Bernie’s new name as President of the Company and told him I was the Managing Director. I added Erskine’s and Pam’s new names, saying they were directors. I spent half an hour signing forms and he told me within the week the Blue Ribbon Air Taxi Service would he registered as a going concern. I told him the money would be credited to the company about the same time. We shook hands, he bowed to the floor and I left him.

It was as easy as that. Foreign money, specially dollars, was what the Mexican economy wanted.

Now here I was with that hurdle jumped, back in my old man’s shabby little home. We ate the steak which was good, talked some more and then went to bed.

That was the first day I don’t know how I endured the next seven days, but somehow, because of my old man I did. He was at the bank all day and I was on my own I went around and met the girls but I found them so dreary, so dull and so goddamn awful after Mrs. Victoria Essex that I stopped going out. I stayed home, watching the telly, smoking and counting the hours until September 24th.

On the night of September 23rd, I suggested we two might go out and have a farewell dinner together.

‘I could cook you something Jack,’ he said, ‘but if you want to go out...’

‘Don’t you? I bet you haven’t been to a restaurant since Mum died.’

‘That’s true. Well, it will make a change. Yes, let’s do that.’

We went to the best restaurant in town: nothing special, but decent enough. The restaurant was fairly full and everyone there seemed to know my old man. It was quite a procession to our table. He had to stop and shake hands, introduce me before he moved onto the next table. All small time people and they bored me rigid, but I was as pleasant as I could be.

‘You’re quite a personality here. Dad,’ I said as we finally settled at our table. ‘I had no idea you were so popular.’

He smiled happily.

‘Well, son, you don’t work in a town for forty-five years without making friends.’

‘I guess that’s right.’

The Maître d’ came over and shook hands. He was a tired, fat looking little man and his tuxedo was shiny and worn, but he treated my old man as if he were the President and I dug for that.

‘What would you like Dad?’ I asked. ‘No... not steak!’

He laughed. He looked really happy. His reception had done him a load of good.

‘Well...’

‘Let’s have oysters and the game pie.’

His eyes lit up.

‘Well... the oysters come high Jack.’

We had the oysters with champagne and the game pie with a decent claret. After the food I had eaten in Paradise City, this was pretty poor fare, but my old man really enjoyed it.

After the meal, a couple of old guys, fat, faded and pompous, came over and joined us. One of them was the Mayor, the other the Commissioner of Parks. My old man had a real ball. I went along, thinking of tomorrow.

When we got home, my old man said, ‘Well, Jack, that was the nicest evening I’ve had since Mum passed away. We two could have a good time together if you took over Johnson’s garage.’

‘Not yet, dad.’ I said, ‘but maybe some time,’ and I felt like a heel.

I picked up Bernie’s Buick at the Paradise City airport and drove along the highway.

I thought of my old man, working at this small time bank, aged sixty-nine, and how he would react when he learned that I had died in an air crash. I thought too of the fact that I was now on Essex’s payroll at thirty thousand dollars a year and could earn more. Maybe I was nuts to go ahead with this hijacking. Why couldn’t I accept the job Essex had given me and not take the risk of stealing this kite? Then I thought of what a million and a quarter dollars meant. I could never hope to make a sum like that even if I remained in the Essex set-up until I was retired. One thing I was sure of: once I got paid my cut, I would leave Bernie. I had no faith in the Blue Ribbon Air Taxi Service Corp. I would take my money and go to Europe. Just where I would settle I had no idea, but I would settle somewhere and with all that money, well invested. I could lead a life that had to have interests.

I reached the secluded cabin around midday. I wondered if Mrs. Essex was waiting for me. Mrs. Essex? I found it hard to think of her as Victoria... even Vicky. There was something about her that didn’t encourage familiarity even though I had slapped her behind and had screwed her. She was a very special woman.

I pulled up outside the cabin. As I got out of the car, the cabin door opened and the negro groom came out, smiling.

The sight of him really shook me. I stared at him as he came towards me. He was lean, tall with a flat nose, sparkling black eyes and he had on a white coat, green slacks and his splayed feet were in green sandals.

‘Hello there, Mr. Crane,’ he said.

‘Hi!’

What the hell is this? I was thinking.

‘Mrs. Essex won’t be here until after lunch, Mr. Crane.’

‘Oh... well...’ I was floundering.

‘I’ll get your bag.’ He paused and smiled at me ‘I’m Sam Washington Jones. You call me Sam: okay?’

‘Sure.’

He opened the trunk and took out my bag.

‘I’ll show you to your room, Mr. Crane.’

He led the way into the cabin, paused at the door, nodded at it, said, ‘That’s Mrs. Essex’s bedroom.’ He moved along the passage and opened a door. ‘This is your room, Mr. Crane.’

‘Thanks.’

‘May I unpack your bag, Mr. Crane?’

‘I can do it.’

He put my bag by the bed.

‘Lunch in half an hour. May I get you a drink, Mr. Crane?’

‘A whisky on the rocks, please.’

I stood for a minute or so. Then I told myself she would have to have someone to take care of her. A woman like her wouldn’t be able to cook, look after the cabin, make the beds. I wondered how she had corrupted this nice looking negro.

I unpacked, put my things in the closet, washed up in the bathroom and then went into the lounge. A double whisky on the rocks stood on an occasional table. I sat down, drank, lit a cigarette and waited.

Sam came in after twenty minutes.

‘You ready to eat. Mr. Crane?’

‘I’m always ready to eat.’

He grinned and went away. A few minutes later, he came in wheeling a trolley. As a starter I had ten king sized prawns. The main dish was kebab served with a curry sauce. There was coffee and brandy to finish.

‘You’re some cook Sam,’ I said.

‘Yes, Mr. Crane, Missy likes good food.’

I sat there, smoking and relaxing, then around 15.00 I heard the sound of an approaching car. I got up and went out into the open.

Mrs. Essex came belting up the drive in a Porsche and she waved to me as she nailed the car a few feet from me.

‘Hi! Jack!’ She got out of the car.

God! She looked marvellous. She was wearing a jazzy shirt, like a Picasso painting and white slacks that looked painted on wet.

‘You look terrific,’ I said.

She gave me an up from under look and smiled.

‘You think so?’

She came to me and linked her arm around mine.

‘Did Sam take care of you?’

‘Sure. He’s a marvellous cook.’

We walked into the cabin and she moved away from me and dropped into a lounging chair.

‘Surprised?’ She smiled up at me.

‘You say that again!’

‘Pleased?’

‘That’s to put it mildly.’

She laughed. God! She was a gorgeous looking woman! ‘Right now I am spending five days with my sister in New York,’ she told me. ‘She has the same problem as I have so we cooperate. I lie for her and she lies for me.’ Again she laughed. ‘Lane is far too busy to take care of me.’ She looked up at me, her eyes sparkling. ‘You will, won’t you?’

I held out my hand.

‘Why wait?’ I said.

The next five days slipped away, following a pattern. We slept together, made love, got up around 10.00, had breakfast served by Sam, then rode in the forest. She was marvellous on a horse. I kept looking at her as she rode. Then we came back to the cabin and Sam served us a meal. We went to bed after the meal and she was always wildly excited when I covered her. Then we took a long walk with the sun shining on us, through the forest, holding hands. She didn’t talk much. She just seemed to want me by her, holding her hand and wandering. Then when the sun set we returned to the cabin and closed the shutters. We had drinks and watched telly, then Sam brought in a light supper, but Sam’s light suppers were extra special: a lobster soufflé, trout with almonds, an egg salad with smoked salmon and so on. Neither of us attempted to talk as ordinary people will talk. This was a sexual thing. She wanted me as if I were a stallion: personal feelings didn’t exist. The surroundings were wonderful. Sam’s food was wonderful and she was wonderful.

On out last night, when I knew Bernie, the following day, would fly in the new kite, we had a special dinner. We started with quails, then a pheasant with all the trimmings, washed down with a Latcur 1959.

‘I now go back to Lane,’ she said as we sniffed brandies. She smiled at me. ‘Was it good?’

‘For me... marvellous, the best. And you?’

‘Mmmm!’

She got up and I watched her walk around the big lounge, watching the slow sensual move of her firm buttocks and the way she lifted her breasts.

‘You’re a better lover than Lane.’

‘Is that right?’ I stared at her. ‘Only because I have time to make love to you and he hasn’t.’

‘A woman needs love. When she is unfortunate enough to get hooked up with a man who can only think of making money...’ She shrugged. ‘Money and business: a woman needs taking care of...’

Sam came in to offer more coffee.

As he poured, he said. ‘Should I pack your bag, Mrs. Essex?’

‘Please.’

So this was the end of an experience. This woman who had given herself so freely to me seemed to me like my old man. She and he from tomorrow wouldn’t exist for me. By tomorrow I would be in the Condor and I would be dead to the world. I would never see my old man again, but this I had come to accept. He had had his life, but it hurt that I would no longer see this woman again as she sat by my side, those marvellous violet eyes dwelling on my face.

When Sam had gone, she said. ‘I have had a lot of men Jack. A woman needs a man and Lane — I’ve said this before — is too busy to bother with me and also too tired. You wouldn’t know how frustrating it is for someone like me to wait around for her man to return and then to find he’s too tired. Men only think of themselves. He imagines I can just sit around and wait for him to get in the mood.’ She patted my hand. ‘This is our last safe night together Jack but if we are careful, there could be other nights.’ She got to her feet. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

The following morning I watched her take of in the Porsche. She waved once, then was gone.

Sam came out into the sunshine.

‘Your bag’s packed, Mr. Crane.’

I offered him a twenty-dollar bill

‘Not for me,’ he said, smiling. ‘This has been my pleasure.’

So I left him and drove back to the airfield.

Around 15.00, the new Condor settled on the runway. I drove out in a jeep and arrived as Bernie and Erskine came down onto the tarmac.

‘Some kite.’ I said as I joined them.

‘You don’t know the half of it. It’s a real beauty.’ Bernie said.

‘No problems?’

‘Not a thing: she flies like a bird.’

We looked at each other.

‘When is the night test to be?’

‘I thought Saturday.’

That gave us three clear days.

‘You’re sure there are no problems?’

‘Not a thing,’ Erskine joined in. ‘She’s marvellous.’

‘Take a look Jack,’ Bernie said. ‘I’ve got paperwork to do and then I’ve got to phone Mr. Essex. Harry will show you around.’

He got in one of the waiting jeeps and drove off.

Harry and I climbed into the kite. It had everything a top executive could wish for. There were six cabins, beautifully fitted out as sleeping quarters. Essex’s private suite was really something in luxury. There was a narrow long conference room that could sit ten people: a small secretary’s office equipped down to an I.B.M. Executive, a bar: a small beautifully equipped kitchen and at the far end were two less well equipped cabins for the staff.

‘It seems to have everything but a swimming pool.’ I said after the tour. ‘A shame, isn’t it, that this greaser will tear out all the luxury and fill the kite with Cubans and arms.’

Harry shrugged.

‘That’s the way the cookie crumbles. I couldn’t care less so long as I get money.’

‘So Saturday night?’

He nodded.

‘How do you feel about it, Harry? About being dead? About never coming back to the U.S. of A.’

‘Yeah: it’s a tough decision, but there’s no way else I could make this kind of money.’

‘Are you going in with Bernie and his taxi service?’

He shook his head.

‘Not me. I’ve no faith in it. I’ll take my cut and blow. How’s about you?’

‘The same. Any ideas where you’ll go?’

‘Rio. I’ve connections there. And you?’

‘Maybe Europe. The first thing is to get the money.’

‘Think there’ll be trouble about that?’

‘Not the way I’ve fixed it.’ I went on to tell him about setting up the company, about my talk with Kendrick. ‘It should be okay.’

We got in the jeep and headed for the control tower. While we were drinking beer, Bernie joined us. He said he had talked to Mr. Essex in Paris and told him he would night test the plane on Saturday night.

‘I’d better go see Kendrick.’ I said. ‘If the operation is for Saturday night. I want that bank receipt. And Bernie, get the guns on board and ammo. We each have a machine pistol. What else can you dig up?’

Bernie looked at Harry.

‘You know the armoury.’

‘We’ve got three Jap Armalites: that’s really a weapon and there are around four Chicago Pianos.’

‘Let’s have one of each. How about grenades?’

‘Can do.’

‘Say six.’

They both stared at me.

‘Are you really expecting trouble Jack?’ Bernie asked, sweat showing on his forehead.

‘I want to be sure we can stop trouble.’

‘Well...’

‘Get those weapons on board.’ I got to my feet ‘I’ll go talk to Kendrick. Suppose we have dinner together and tie this all up?’

‘Sure,’ Bernie said. ‘We meet at my cabin. I’ll order a meal.’

‘Around 20.30?’

‘Okay.’

I took Bernie’s Buick and drove into Paradise City. Three hours later, I knocked on Bernie’s cabin door and he opened up. Harry was drinking Scotch and he got up to make me a drink.

‘How did you get on?’ Bernie asked. He looked worried and there were smudges under his eyes.

I sat down, took the drink Harry offered me.

‘Friday we get the bank receipt. I told that fat queer the kite doesn’t move until I get it,’ I grinned at Bernie. ‘Relax. It’s okay. This is going to work.’

But how was I to know the one thing none of us even thought of would occur? It looked fine to me. I had taken a lot of trouble to make it look fine, but there is always something, repeat something, that none of us could have imagined.