Cigarettes for Two: A Lee Thomas Novel (Spy Dreams Book 3)

by Tom Fugate

  These jeans had been bought with comfort and ease of movement in mind. Wearing those snug fitting, popular denims would hinder movement and maybe cause problems. Since my jeans were loose fitting the watch pocket was a bit bigger and the small gun slid right in. Any part of the handle of the mini revolver would look almost like the edge of a pocket watch. Unlike many people in the mid 80’s I was wearing no jewelry other than a watch. Well, there was a metal chain around my neck that ended below the top button of my bright floral shirt. It was a simple silver colored, actually stainless steel, chain that might hold some religious medal. Attached to that chain was a nasty little knife hanging hilt down. Well there have been cultures that attached religious significance to cold steel. The blade was thin, flat and one piece of steel. At about three inches long the blade was small but very sharp and very useful in the hands of a knowledgeable user. It was large enough to be useful and small enough to not be readily noticed.

  The knife was hanging right where I could reach it between button holes of the shirt. I was not heavily armed because today I was sort of playing tourist and I had also not made any contact with the bad actors in the area. At that particular time the only people expecting me in town were involved in our operation, but I stayed true to my tradecraft regardless. I checked in with my handlers over the secure phone at my temporary domicile. John was there as he would be during much of this show. His standard method of handling someone was: If they were awake, he was awake. Other people would handle the things that might come up at the wee odd hours. This day would be basic familiarization with the area. I locked up the safe house as I went into the garage. Opening the garage door with the remote I began the days travels.

  Breakfast was the first order of the day on that initial morning. My method of choosing an eating establishment was simple. I headed for the I-95 corridor and pulled into a place with lots of cars in the parking lot. Choosing that way might not lead to the absolute best in food but it lent itself to a certain air of anonymity. I had breakfast and read a paper then I headed back toward my safe house, again driving around as twisted as a bowl of spaghetti. I went into a Publix supermarket in that general area and did the domestic thing of stocking my pantry.

  After I had finished doing my grocery shopping I took my purchases back to the safe house. Again I used a very roundabout route. If there was anyone following me I think that I may have corkscrewed them into the ground with all the twists turns and loopbacks. As I learned the lay of the land I would move the point where I would begin to drive directly to the safe house closer to the location. My perimeter would never be less than about a ten block radius. I would be able to do this because I would begin to know what was out of place. I would automatically see things that did not fit.

  The human brain tries to force things into patterns that make it for us easier to see things that are out of place. Seeing things that are out of place can help to spot that predator hiding in the grass. Creating patterns is why we see objects in clouds and patterns in the stars. So I had no intention of fighting something that is hardwired into the human brain so my car would not be around somewhere it did not have to be.

  After everything was put away it was still before noon. I checked in again with John. That they still had not found me a suitable boat was the major part of the situation report, at least no boats that were not in Florida. I had no plans for the afternoon so I went back out and drove around more of the tourist type areas of the Metro area that were outside of my home radius. Whenever I was just driving around to learn directions and streets in my vehicle I would be careful to avoid any of the areas that I would be frequenting on the operation. There was no reason to take a chance on someone remembering my car.

  Paranoid people tend to remember strange cars just driving through areas. They especially remember vehicles that show up again later. I wanted the first time they saw my vehicle to be during the op and not casing the area. Even normal people get suspicious when they see the same car coming through their neighborhood for no apparent reason. It forms a pattern that does not conform to their sense of reality. They could not tell you what the problem is but they would notice. Patterns are like body language, most of us notice it on a primal level. Seldom does our conscious mind intrude.

  Chapter 5

  After my supermarket trip and tourist type driving that first day my next three days were going to be spent cruising streets and locations that I needed to know. In car GPS was still a science fiction item so actual knowledge of the streets and locations was needed. The only way to get this knowledge was with old fashioned reconnaissance and the mark-one eyeball. Even today with GPS I make a point of actually being familiar with an area of operation. Maps are great but sometimes wrong. That road construction for the week does not show on GPS. Any advantage can be enough to keep you alive.

  I had used the secure phone at the safe house to call up a car rental company before I had gone back out to drive around more that first day. Reserving a car for the next day I began to prepare for the serious scouting of the hunting ground. A different company would be used each day and I would also not use the same color of car. If possible I would not even use the same type of car two times in a row. Rental cars would be my scouting vehicles anywhere that I did not want the Porsche seen when I had no business in the area. Driving to Miami International Airport I parked in a parking structure and walked to the rental counter picked up the key for the nondescript sedan that I had reserved the day before. My vehicle of choice was your basic middle class car; some sort of sedan that was a model that would never be mistaken for a police vehicle. Now the location scouting began.

  The car rental went onto one of the credit cards of the cover identity. The car that first day was a light blue small Chevrolet. I took the cell phone out of my car. That phone was one of the bag phone models with a battery and cigarette lighter cord. I also pocketed a small two way radio. I was carrying my mini revolver and a 1911 with a few spare magazines. A tennis bag went into the trunk of the rental. The tennis bag contained my .30 carbine and lots of ammunition. The tennis bag was effective camouflage that would allow me to move the rifle between vehicles and have no one know that I was moving a firearm. Taking the rifle was probably overkill from an armament standpoint but it felt right. This rifle had a paratrooper model folding stock so it fit into the bag very well. I now prefer an AR-15 but that was a less common civilian gun than the carbine in the mid 80’s. This gun was also the semiautomatic M1 model so that there would be no explaining to any police why I had an automatic weapon in the car if for some reason it was searched. Of course anyone who searched my car without probable cause and a warrant would probably be transferred to traffic control and demoted to meter maid. My boss takes a dim view of people messing up operations, especially when that goof could cause harm to his people. He had once seen to it that a Marine Major was assigned to Thule, Greenland after interfering with one of our operations. Thule may not be the most isolated posting in the world, but it has some of the absolute worst weather. Being the only Marine there must have been no fun.

  That first scouting day I drove past all of the bars that I would frequent to make contact with Robertson and his people. I also made a pass by his house and several businesses that he owned. One of the businesses was a car dealership. In the 80’s that seemed to be the required cover business for drug dealers. Maybe they thought that they could use transporting of cars for smuggling. Using transported cars had worked for only a short while, but the smugglers were still in the car business. Laundering money through a legitimate business probably had more to do with it by that time than did the smuggling.

  After having fixed all of the locations in my head and driven the main streets, in both directions, my day was almost over. Since my rental was such a common vehicle I had some dinner and then drove again through those areas after sundown. Things look very different at night when the lights are on. I drove back to the airport and parked the car in a rental return lot and dropped the k
ey at the desk inside. I was carrying my tennis bag; my phone was not inside the bag. Upon leaving the counter I walked toward the boarding gates. As soon as I was out of sight of the rental counters I exited the building and returned to my own car. The rental employees seeing the bag would just assume that I was flying out after a very short stay. Maybe it had been a one day business trip or a weekend out of my home town... When you rent at an airport rental they never really question part day rentals. People fly into and out of cities for short meetings all of the time. Of course, that was much more common than it is in these times of video conferencing, but it still happens today.

  I repeated the process the next day in a red car from a rental company at the airport in Fort Lauderdale. It was a bit far afield but I was feeling a bit paranoid that day. I wanted to make sure that no one at Miami International rental counters remembered me as I walked by. Some people try to avoid red and other bright cars, but I have found that people know that those cars draw attention. Since red and bright cars draw attention part of their brain assumes that no one in a really noticeable car can be up to something. A very large part of being invisible is understanding people. Not obviously wanting to be unnoticed is step one. Once you learn that attitude and aura the rest is easier. I have walked right by friends and family in a crowd and not been noticed by them. Being invisible is an acquired but teachable skill.

  The drill that day was similar to the first day, but different. My goal was to learn some of the side streets and alleys. Knowing how to get away from somewhere by a different and unexpected route can be even more important than knowing how to get somewhere. I returned that car late in the afternoon. My method of exiting the airport was much the same as it had been the day before. I met John and an FBI Special Agent for dinner at a Western Sizzler in a shopping center off of I-95 as I headed back to the Miami area. Western Sizzler is not fine dining, but decent food and a lot of turnover in the crowd. We were in a corner in a room toward the back. Sitting in a location like that makes it hard to stake someone out. Two people, especially if they are a couple, can manage to just occupy space without anyone noticing. A single person cannot do this. Look around the next time that you are at a restaurant. Single people stand out and so do pairs of people and larger groups that do not seem to be involved in seriously conversing. In my line of work people who do not seem to belong are a red flag.

  On the evening after that third day of scouting in rental cars I began to get down to the real work of the operation. It was time to hit the town and begin to make myself known to the local drug trade. The hardest part could be keeping away from those people I did not want to deal with.

  Chapter 6

  I was checking in with John late in the afternoon when he told me to call back for a conference call with Stewart from the DEA. They had found me a boat. From the description it was one awesome boat, but it was in southern California. The only good news about that was that no one in Florida had ever seen it. Some stupid rich movie star type had tried to run a load of dope into California to get some cash to help with tax problems. Now he had DEA in addition to the IRS troubles. He was a classic example of someone getting lucky and not dealing with it well. Two of his movies had been successful and the rest just so so. One of his sequels had not even made it to theatrical release. His lavish lifestyle had not wound down when his paychecks did. He got caught in a very fast boat which was now the property of the US government.

  “It’s great that you found me a really good boat that no one around here will know has been confiscated, but CALIFORNIA! How am I supposed to get it here?”

  I heard laughter from both of the other men. “Lee,” John said calmly, “we have that covered. As we speak the boat is on a Marine C-130 Hercules and winging its way to NAS Pensacola.”

  “We wanted to keep it far enough away that there was little chance of anyone seeing you at the base. That might make for a long haul to the Miami area but it is doable.” This voice belonged to Stewart.

  “Did anyone think to change the registration to something that makes more sense for this area? A California registration number will draw a lot of attention.” I was going to have a long boat ride.

  “Henry has already gotten it into the system as registered out of Georgia and the paint will be dry before it goes back in the water. Some special additional equipment is also being added. The boat is already set up for smuggling. Stewart and I both think that this boat will really suit your personality. The General agreed. We have transportation ready to get you to Pensacola when the boat arrives. The air station will have the boat either in the water or ready to go in the water when you get there.” John’s voice was no longer on the verge of laughing at me. I had known deep down that he and the General would have things taken care of. “Plan on heading out of town on Friday unless something urgent comes up.”

  “Simple enough, I will just spread the word that I am out of town on business. When I show up with the boat word will get around. Call me about the transportation.”

  “Will do, see you later.” We said our goodbyes and both men hung up.

  I fixed myself some dinner and got ready to go out. Tonight I would drive my own car. It was time to begin to hit the bars. I dressed much as I had for my scouting trips. Comfortable pants, loose shirt, sensible shoes (suitable for running should it become necessary), knives, guns and other assorted tools of mayhem. This first night I would visit most of the bars that I intended to visit. By now the CI’s (confidential informants) of the police and DEA guys would have been asked if they had seen me around. They would have been shown my picture. I was certain to be spotted by one of them in the next day or so. The evenings would be a basically set routine. I would go in, sit at the bar or a table and nurse a few drinks. After a while I would tell one of the staff that I was in the import-export business and ask if they knew of anyone looking for transportation services. A lot of bartenders and cocktail waitresses did not sell drugs but did collect extra cash for knowing where to send people. After all there is nothing illegal about telling someone who they might ask for, morally wrong maybe, but not illegal.

  On my rounds I drank very little, but acted as if I was putting away a great deal. I always waved off any offers of drugs. The hardest part was turning down the offers of sex, not that I have any aversion to sex, but I needed to have no complications. Well, maybe I was wrong the hardest part was not turning down sex the hardest part was more likely to be the scene that could cause. I did not like the noise and close quarters. Even the most alert operative might not see danger coming. The music was loud and blaring. The loud part was almost to the level of distortion. The places were usually packed and I like crowds to hide in but not a crowd that packed into a small area. If you had a reason to be paranoid in the mid 80’s the atmosphere in most clubs would only foster those feelings.

  The first night, Tuesday, went pretty much as I expected. I was new and most of the real players made a point of not really being obvious about it, but avoiding me. I went to the clubs that Robertson and his people stopped in occasionally. I made the rounds of three clubs. There were people trying hard to not look at me. The looks they were not giving me were not suspicious in so much as they were “is he the guy looks”. By the end of my evening I was pretty sure that the police informants had spread the word about me. Over the next few nights I would begin to ask about work. It was a Tuesday so I had Wednesday and Thursday before I had to make the pilgrimage to pick up my new boat. Maybe I would actually see some of my quarry or his minions before the weekend sea cruise.

  That evening I saw no one matching the faces committed to my memory of Melvin Robertson and the faces of most of his known high level associates. I was looking for those specific people. Everyone knew the man was dirty, but he never did anything in public. There were several unsolved homicides but after the gators in the Everglades have worked on the bodies forensics pretty much go out the window. Considering how much product they were reputed to move they kept a fairly low profile. Tha
t low profile was one of the reasons for my involvement. The body count on the periphery of his organization was rising almost as fast as his supply of cash.

  The typical pattern with the large volume “importers” was that when they reached a certain critical mass shit started to happen. They became targets for others in their business and began to get careless just because of dealing with the sheer volume of the trade. Melvin was not there yet. No, he was a brighter target than some on government radar because of the way he was operating. Quite often large ships stayed moving in international waters and the fast moving smuggling boats went out there to load up and then make the run into Florida. It sure beat making a water crossing to another country. A lot of product still came in by aircraft but the Defense Department radar net was getting pretty good. There were even unconfirmed “rumors” of some smuggling aircraft having been shot down by Navy and Air Force fighters. To that I make no comment.

  The subject of our interest was not only using a mother ship well outside United States waters, he was using a mother ship that had its own territorial waters and a navy to keep out the riffraff. In this case the riffraff was the law and the mother ship was Cuba. Even communist dictators understand and embrace a good source of hard currency when they see it. They especially embrace it when it is the people of their hated enemy suffering the woes associated with the illicit pharmaceuticals. The Cuban connections alone made Robertson worthy of taking down. Taking down any of his Columbian connections was just the cherry on top of the sundae. No one was even sure how high his connections went in the Cuban government. There were those analysts who thought that even some Russians were involved. Everyone was beginning to realize that the Cold War was winding down and KGB and other Soviet intelligence types were trying to move into the private sector. A little business trip to Cuba could be interesting. Maybe I would get the chance to pick up some cigars for General Fleming. I was smuggling after all.