by Mike Gomes
“Ya. I can stay sober.”
“Where are you going?”
“Everyone keeps asking me that. I have no idea. I am going to the airport next and then I will pick a place off the departures board. I know it is crazy and kind of alcoholic thinking, but I have wanted to do something like this my whole life. Now I have the time and money so what the hell.”
“I think it sounds great as long as you stay sober. My kid brother did the same thing years ago. Of course, that was way before 9-11.”
“I don’t see much of a problem. I have looked online and read about other people who do it. My passport is up-to-date if I cross the border and I have no restrictions in this country.”
“Just stay safe.” said Dave placing his hand on Falau’s shoulder and giving a slight squeeze. “The chip I gave you isn’t just a normal chip like any other person would get. It is the one that I got at my thirty days. It helped me through a lot of hard times.”
Reaching into his pocket Falau pulled out the chip and looked at it for the first time. It was no larger than a quarter and made of metal. On one side sat the serenity prayer:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the
things I cannot change, the courage to change
the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
On the other side was a triangle with the word Unity on the left side, SERVICE on the right side and RECOVERY on the bottom. The middle of each side had been worn away making the words hard to read.
“Sorry about it being a bit beat up, but when I would get stressed I would rub the chip between my thumb and finger. Guess I got stressed a lot.
Falau’s mouth opened and hung without a sound coming out. Searching for the words and fending off the overwhelming emotion of the gift, the big man could find nothing that could express his gratitude. As stammering “Da...Dave.” fell from his mouth, his eyes became glassy with emotion.
Leaning in, Dave pulled the big man close and hugged him for just a moment and whispered “I know. You’re welcome.”
Chapter 5
The day was ending, but a few hours of sun still would have its way in the sky. The shadows on the courtyard were wide and long and minute by minute they stretched longer as if they were attempting to reach the far end of the court yard. As the sun dropped so did the temperature and the locals took to their stoops to have conversation and talk about the events of the day in Madeira. Often the conversation turned to the economy of the island. Madeira was known for being the poorest area under the control of the Portuguese. Despite the great tourism dollars that came in, the people of the area saw little of the money. Wages were low, and many workers spent their days in luxury hotels and their nights in cramped homes outside the main city of Funchal.
As the chatting went on and the wine started to flow the congregation of boys fancying themselves as the first gang in Madeira gathered at their usual spot at the picnic tables.
Carlos flipped a toothpick that took up residence in the corner of his mouth. Dressed in all black he paraded back and forth in front of the other boys causing them to watch him like he was a pacing tiger in a zoo. Carlos could cast stern and powerful looks over long periods of time. His intimidation was too much to bear for most of the boys in the area. None dared to challenge him.
“You look deep in thought, Carlos” said Joaquim trying to break the tension.
“I am, little Joaquim.” said the older boy stopping directly in front of him and looking him dead in the eye. “I am thinking of our future.”
The future was something the boys never gave much thought to. It was just too depressing. They knew the future. It was working at the hotels or a tour group. If you were lucky you might get a job as a bartender and get some tips. Anything outside of the tourist trade was city work with sanitation or road work. For uneducated kids from the outside that was the best they could hope for so why talk about it when the ending was inevitable.
But Carlos stood like a statue in front of Joaquim not blinking. The boy had charisma and the other boys were locked into his every movement and now they sat on the edge of their seats staring at him and waiting for him to speak.
Joaquim opened his mouth, but nothing happened. Part of him started to tremble and he felt the urge to run away. His older friend made no moves to indicate what he would do and for Joaquim that was worse than anything. The not knowing if he would be punched or hugged or something made him itch for a resolution.
“Don’t you want to know the future?” asked Carlos pulling his face back. “Like a fortune teller coming in here and telling us what we can do to change our lives.”
“I would like that.” said the higher voice of José. “I will be damned if I end up like my mum washing sheets and doing laundry for my whole life. If the fortune teller said that, I might just check out right now with a jump off the high cliffs to the rocks down below.”
“Don’t you go talking like that, little man. No need to talk about offing yourself. You have a family here. We will make sure you’re ok.” said Carlos who started to pace back and forth again. His feet hit the ground lightly and he continued to look down with each step. “I think we need to make our own future little ones.”
“Make our futures?” questioned Candido. “How can we do that in Madeira? Not like the place is swimming with opportunity.”
“Your right there, Candido. There is not a lot of places to make a good living here, but maybe we can take a good living here.”
“Crime?” questioned Joaquim sheepishly.
“Na. We do crime already. Picking pockets and snatching purses is kids’ stuff.” said Carlos turning to his friends and spreading his hands out wide. “We need to up the game. We need to make a splash.”
“With what? Not much to steal around here.”
“You just need to know where to look.” said Carlos placing his hand on the shoulder of Joaquim and smiling broadly. “We could be fools and run into town and rob shops, but we would get caught. Everyone knows everyone on this island and somebody would peg us.”
“If we can’t rob the shops what is left?” asked Candido. “No matter what job we do, someone will see us. At least with the purses and wallets we make a steady stream of money.”
“We make shit!” snapped Carlos. “Don’t you want to get out of here or get one of the big houses on the good side of town? This city is missing one thing.”
“What’s that?” questioned Candido looking up at Carlos and giving him a wry smile.
“Organized crime.”
“What, like the mafia?” asked José.
“Just like the mafia!” exclaimed Carlos pumping a fist into the air. “We have none of it and all we need is more members to get the ball rolling. Then we can put the squeeze on the shops and bribe the cops.”
“We need money for that.” said Candido.
“All my life I have known you Candido and you’re always filled with the negative thought, but in the end you're always right with what you ask.” replied Carlos. “So, we will have to make the first play before we start to recruit. And the perfect time is in one week.”
“The New Year’s Eve festival?” questioned Joaquim.
“Yes. The amount of money being floated around that night is amazing. Tourists passing money for streamers and horns and every other thing you can think of. Lots of cash.” said Carlos. “If we follow one of the vendors back to the supply area they all drop off their money each time. We go in right at midnight when everyone is celebrating, and we take it all. Off into the crowd we go.”
“It’s crazy in a way, but it will work if we do it right.” said Candido leaning back on the bench. “Could be a lot of money. Thousands in cash.”
“Quiet! Cop!” said José alerting the other boys to what was walking up behind them.
“It’s a sure sign that if boys get quiet when you walk up they are up to no good.” said the police officer spinning a nightstick in his hand.
The police officer wore all blue. Soli
d long pants down to high polished boots only bearing scuffs from the current day. On the top of his body he wore a light jacket that had POLICIA inscribed across the back of it. On the front the insignia of the local police department had been printed on it. The standard policeman’s hat sat on his head with the brim pulled down covering his eyes just a bit.
“Hello, officer.” said Carlos placing himself down on one of the benches.
“Hello. Nice to meet you all. What are your names?”
“I am Carlos, this is José, that is Joaquim, and that is Candido.” replied Carlos “And what is your name, sir?”
The officer paused and took a hard look at Carlos knowing that the boy was seeing how far he could go. “Officer Silva. Not Silva. Not man. Not Hey, you. It is Officer Silva.”
“Yes, sir Officer Silva. You will get no problems from any of us.” said Carlos.
“Bullshit! You boys don’t think I already know about you? I know about the snatching from the tourists and the petty crime. IT STOPS NOW!” barked Officer Silva. “I have been assigned to this area because I am good at taking care of problems like you boys.”
“We want no problem.” said José in almost a whimper but still trying to show off for the older boys.
“How old are you boy?” asked the officer.
“Fourteen.”
“Fourteen?” said the officer rolling his eyes. “I could still put you over my knee at that age. Why are you out here with these older boys? You should be out chasing girls and looking for your first kiss.”
“These guys are nice to me and I am not much for kissing.”
“You will be.” said the police officer. “You older boys happy with this peewee being around and cramping your style? Not like you guys can do all the normal things if you have this little one with you.”
“It don’t make no difference because this is what we do. We are poor, so no money means no going out.” said Joaquim feeling more confident.
The police officer spun the nightstick quickly and snatched it from the air with his hand. “Therein lies the problem. You boys have no money, so you must steal it rather than go get jobs. That stops tonight.”
“We don’t steal.” said Carlos moving from his chair.
The officer’s nightstick snapped to the side and pushed into Carlos’s chest. Carlos froze knowing that a confrontation in the daylight with a police officer was a losing cause. Besides he knows that Officer Silva was baiting him and seeing which of the boys had a quick trigger.
“You see boy, that’s what I can’t stand. You’re lying to me. I don’t expect you to tell the truth about stealing, but don’t lie. Just stay silent.” said Officer Silva slowly pulling the nightstick away. “I can promise you boys one thing and one thing only. If you keep stealing and I can ID you, I will not put you in jail. Jail is a place for criminals and you are just stupid kids. Instead, me and my friend Lucifer the nightstick will give you the spanking your parents should have. I will have you boys walking the straight and narrow. Best thing to do is give up the crime life now.”
The boys sat in silence as Officer Silva slowly moved the nightstick back and forth in front of them.
“Now, you boys have a good day and stay out of mischief. I hope we have a deal. Have a nice night.”
The officer walked away without waiting for a response form the boys and not looking back to see their reaction to him.
“Well that puts a damper on our plans.” said Candido watching the officer get into his car and start to drive away.
“He will be no problem to us.” said Carlos not looking to get a last glimpse of the police car driving away. “If he starts to push things too much, I will just take care of him myself.”
Chapter 6
The smell of cleaning solution filled the air and assaulted the nostrils at first sniff. Falau scrunched his face at the aggressive scent as he breathed it in seeing a cleaning crew a short distance away mopping the floor with their warning signs for the slippery ground.
Logan Airport was not its normal bee hive of activity. On Christmas night travel was a minimum. In twenty for hours travelers would be heading home and moving in all directions but, for now, there were scattered travelers.
The ceiling of the entrance to the international departures area was more than thirty feet high. Bright fluorescent lights shined down making the terminal as bright as the sunniest days of summer. The ground under foot felt like nothing more than polished cement with a stylish pattern to it. A short distance in front of him a series of nylon straps ran between poles creating what looked like what cowboys would use to corral cattle into pens and on to transportation. Passengers took up the role of the cattle and waved back and forth making their way up to the counter where they could check in and place their luggage on a shiny metal table that sat only about a foot off the floor. The luggage would be whisked away and the passenger had to place all their trust that the bags would find their way to the right plane leaving from the right gate at the right time.
Letting his eyes take in all that the terminal had to offer the departure board sat between the hallway that led to the security check and the baggage check. Falau strolled up to the board letting himself peruse the words on the board as if he were reading a feature piece in a Sunday newspaper just for the fun of it.
British Airways had a flight leaving in forty five minutes for London. After his experiences in London with Tim, Gabriela, and Houston his head involuntarily shook “No” knowing that he was more than likely to have his face on file with every security checkpoint in the country.
Virgin Atlantic flashed with a delay warning to a flight going to Paris would be two hours late.
Lufthansa was showing a flight on time to Munich.
Jumping off the departure board in what seemed like different colors and a shine was a flight from Air Portugal leaving in one hour for Madeira Island that sits off the northwest coast of Africa, but is still considered part of Portugal.
A smiled drifted over Falau’s face remembering back to the stories his father would tell about the family's genealogy and time his relatives spent living on the island. His great grandfather worked as a bartender in Funchal and had moved himself up to a middle class status when he took his sixteen year old son and placed him on a White Star Liner ship sending him to America and the land of opportunity. The boy came to the United States not knowing the language or a soul to call a friend. Landing in Rhode Island he broke down and wept not knowing what to do until a kind woman who spoke his native tongue took pity on him and helped him adjust to the new country.
A gentle nod moved Falau’s head without him realizing and a strong pride filled him at the thought of his distant relatives strength and character. Eyes locking on the destination Madeira, Falau felt the pull of the small island and the opportunity to walk the same streets as his ancestry. The debate had all but ended in seconds and Falau pulled the passport from his pocket and ducked under the nylon strap eliminating the need to weave back and forth placing him at the front of the nonexistent line.
A woman with drawn eyes and frizzy hair called him to the counter with a wave of her hand. The big man walked up feeling his steps moving lightly over the ground.
“Hi, I would like a first class ticket to Madeira Island. Flight 239.”
“Not sure you need first class. There are only about ten people on that flight.”
“Do you have first class pods?”
“Yes?”
“I will take the pod.” said Falau with a smile as he slid his credit card across the counter to the woman who looked more than disgusted that she was still working on Christmas night.
The full transaction took less than ten minutes and the woman at the counter did not warm up despite the continued efforts of Falau to bring a smile to her face.
The big man hustled down the corridor only to find a hand full of people standing at the TSA checkpoint. Tyler had assured Falau that his face was wiped from the servers that could be tracking him but he knew t
hat the agents who worked counter terrorism were not ones to let things disappear. He would be followed and he would be watched by any government that was linked into the shared terrorism servers. No matter who goofed the system, there was always something that would get by.
Passing through the metal detector and passing his carry on through the x-ray caused no concerns for the people working at TSA. A camera flashed taking his picture as he passed through the detector. His face was again in the system. If it matched anything he was sure they would know before he landed in Madeira and would be followed from that point on. Falau smiled to himself knowing that for once if he were followed, all they would see is him sitting next to a pool and sightseeing. He would be the most boring guy being tracked in the world.
Getting to terminal E gate 23 the door to the plane was just opening and a young man took what looked like a CB radio and spoke into it. “Ladies and gentlemen, Flight 239 from Boston to Madeira is boarding now. Due to the limited number of passengers we are boarding all rows at this time. Please enter the aircraft in an orderly manner.”
Falau and approximately ten others boarded the plane in a relaxed and calming manner. Falau found his pod containing a TV and a chair that can lay down fully for sleeping. Getting into the chair he adjusted the seat feeling the sweat starting to build up on the back of his neck and a general uneasiness started to overcome him.
Falau reached his hand out and stopped the flight attendant. “Excuse me. Could I get a soda or some water please?”
“I am sorry sir. I can't do that until we reach our cruising altitude.” replied the flight attendant attempting to walk forward but stopped by Falau’s hand grabbing her wrist her eyes looked down to his hand holding her and then to his eyes with a fierce and stern look.
“I know I am being forward and asking you for something you should not do, but I freak out flying and if I can't get a drink to take my pill I will be a mess that you have to deal with. If you get me a drink I will be asleep the whole flight and you will not have to deal with me for anything.” said Falau letting a large smile crossed his face.