by Jim Beegle
Mark unpacked the laptop from his briefcase and sent both items through the X-ray machine that divided the public areas of the airport from the gate areas. When he walked through the metal detectors and went to reach for his suitcase and briefcase, a bored TSA agent, in an effort to justify his government pay and retirement, made Mark start up his laptop computer before he was allowed to clear security. Often Mark was tempted to ask one of the people what starting the computer proved anyway. Didn’t they think that if he were savvy enough to build a bomb into such a small package that he was also smart enough to build it so the screen would come on when inspected? Knowing that such a question would, more than likely, result in a longer stay in the hands of the TSA, Mark chose to keep those comments to himself. Feeling no safer than before he started his computer, Mark trudged off to his gate, luggage in hand.
Before approaching the gate, he stopped in a café on the concourse for a newspaper and a cup of coffee. After pocketing the change from a ten-dollar bill he had used to buy the paper and coffee, he completed his trip to the boarding area for the flight to Miami. He whiled away the remaining time prior to boarding looking out the large, thick wall-length glass that divided inside from outside, and watching the planes take off and land on the active runways.
When his flight was called, Mark gave the gate agent his boarding pass, walked down the enclosed fifty-foot boarding ramp, and entered the plane. In the last ten years, Mark had traveled by air extensively. He knew not only the cadence of traveling, but he also knew a good deal about the general layout of most of the airplanes used by the major airlines in the United States. He was able to find his seat without even having to look at the numbers above each row of chairs. He stowed his carry-on bag overhead, but kept the briefcase with him, opting instead to slip it under the seat in front of him. He sat and watched the rest of his fellow travelers board and find their seats. A few minutes before the plane’s nine o’clock departure time, the cabin door was closed and the plane pushed back from the gate. Almost to the second of its departure time, the big McDonnell Douglas MD-88 cleared the end of the runway, climbed to two thousand feet, turned to the east, and continued climbing on its way to Florida.
Once airborne, Mark took out the Dallas Morning News and read almost all of it over the next hour and a half, stopping only a couple of times to accept a fresh cup of coffee from the flight attendant. When he had gone through the whole newspaper, he tilted his seat back and slept for the remaining hour and a half of the flight. He was awakened when the whine of the twin engines on the tail of the plane changed their pitch as they slowed to start the long gradual descent into Miami International Airport. The sky was clear and Mark was treated to a spectacular view of the city (made popular by the Miami Vice television show) and the warm sun and white sand of South Florida.
After the plane landed and taxied to the gate, Mark retrieved both pieces of his carry-on luggage and walked with the rest of his fellow travelers from Dallas into the large, well-lit terminal building. He checked a computer monitor suspended from the ceiling for the gate of his next flight. With this new information, Mark quickly made his way to the American Eagle terminal area. When he arrived at the boarding gate to Nassau, he was informed by a polite gate agent that his next flight would be delayed by about forty minutes. Taking the delay in stride, Mark wandered off to a hot dog stand for some lunch.
After he finished his hot dogs, Mark disposed of the trash took out his phone. Taking his day planner from his briefcase, he looked up a phone number and called Winston Lawton’s office in Dallas. To Mark’s surprise, the lawyer answered his own phone. They spoke just long enough for Mr. Lawton to tell him that he had, indeed, contacted Jonus Roddy, and that Mr. Roddy would be expecting him at eleven o’clock the following day. Mark thanked him for his help and hung up the phone.
The plane turned out to be only thirty minutes late instead of forty. Mark boarded quickly and discovered, when the door to the small twin-engine plane was sealed, that he was one of only a handful of people making the trip to Nassau that afternoon. The plane took off, cleared the Miami airspace, and did not climb much higher than ten thousand feet for the short flight to Nassau. Unlike the large jets which traveled at thirty thousand feet and higher, the small American Eagle plane flew at a much lower altitude. The clear and cloudless sky afforded Mark a wonderful view of the deep blue Atlantic Ocean and the numerous islands, called the Keys, that rose out of the ocean into the sunlight off the Florida coast.
The flight lasted only an hour from gate to gate and most of that time was spent taxiing. Upon landing, Mark once again collected his luggage and proceeded into the terminal building of Lynden Pindling International Airport where he was directed by an employee of the airlines to Customs. Customs in Nassau was more a commercial for the resort island and its people than it was a serious check for contraband. The customs agent, a large black man in a white uniform, examined Mark’s passport casually and asked him about the nature of his trip to the Bahamas and the duration of his stay. Mark told the polite gentleman that his reasons were business and his stay would not last more than a week. The information exchanged, the man stamped Mark’s document with an entry stamp, gave him a semi-official welcome to the island and wished him a pleasant stay in Nassau.
With the help of another uniformed official, Mark found a cab in front of the terminal and gave the driver the name of his hotel. He sat back in the well-used cab and took in the sights of Nassau.
The Independent Commonwealth of the Bahamas is a collection of six major islands located ninety miles southeast of Florida. The southernmost islands are only about fifty miles from Cuba. About half the population of just over 250,000 live on the island of New Providence. Most of those people live in and around the capital city of the Bahamas, Nassau, or in the city of Freeport located on one of the other islands. The country had been a British colony for about three hundred years until it was granted independence from the Queen in 1964. Eighty percent of the population is black, but almost everyone speaks British-accented English that is easy on the ears.
When he arrived at the hotel, Mark paid the cab driver while, at the same time, informing the bellboy that he could handle his own bags. A doorman held the door open for him and, just as the customs agent at the airport had done, welcomed him to the Bahamas and wished him a good stay. As soon as he entered the lobby, Mark stopped and stared. He had forgotten that, along with tourism, its accompanying vice, gambling, was one of the main industries of the Bahamas. Mark found himself not in a plush hotel lobby like he was accustomed to in cities like Kansas City or Atlanta, but in the middle of a bustling casino. Slot machines noisily dumped large silver dollar coins into metal trays at the base of the machines, announcing someone was winning. As he walked further into the building, he could also hear the click of dice, the fanning of cards, and the roulette ball as it dropped onto the wheel. He had been in Las Vegas several times, so the sounds were not completely foreign to him.
Recovering quickly from his surprise, Mark made his way to the hotel’s front desk. He gave the desk clerk his name and presented her with his Micronix Company MasterCard. She took his card as he reminded the young lady that he had requested a smoking room. It was still his intention to pay cash for his travels and accommodations on this trip. However, he also knew that cash-paying customers, for some reason, made hotel managers suspicious and nervous. He would pay his bill in cash when he checked out, thereby avoiding any charge to his credit card, but more importantly, once again, avoiding more records of his trip.
After filling out the guest card, being careful to list his address as the ranch in Runaway Bay, and upon completing the rest of the check-in procedure, Mark was given an electronic room key and a key to the mini-bar. Once again, he assured an eager bellboy that he could handle his own luggage and trudged off in the direction of the elevators. He rode the elevator to the fifth floor and opened the door to room 524 with the key he had been given just a few moments earlier. His
two-room suite was spacious and had a door leading to the bathroom from both the sitting room and the bedroom.
Mark put his briefcase on the desk in the corner of the large sitting room and looked at his watch. He added two hours in his head to the time shown and came to the conclusion that it was five o’clock in the afternoon. The time in both where he was, as well as where he came from, established in his mind, he took his remaining luggage and walked into the bedroom. He unhooked his black fold-over travel suitcase and hung it in the wardrobe without bothering to remove any of the clothes from it. His hands now free, Mark walked over to the window of the room and pulled back the curtains. He was pleased to see his room faced the beach. There were people walking along the waterline and some lying on chairs or towels, but not more than one or two in the water. He did not stand in the window very long before turning and walking back into the sitting room to the desk.
He pulled out the desk chair, sat in it, and punched the number for his office in Dallas into his phone. On the third ring, Sandy answered and, with a pleasant voice, announced to him that he had reached his own office. He asked her if he was missed and if anything was going on. She told him, with a good-natured complaint that, other than the fact that she had to get her own mail that morning, nothing was going on that could not wait until he got back. He asked her about a few other trivial things that had been pending before he left, and Sandy told him the current status of all of them. They chatted for a few minutes more before Mark told her goodbye and promised to call again the next day. After hanging up the phone, Mark took the mini-bar key out of his pocket and used it to open the refrigerator.
He took out a bottle of one of the local brands of beer and opened it as he walked back to the window in the bedroom. He stopped in the same spot he had stood before and tipped the top of the bottle out the window in a silent toast to his friend. He took a long, deep pull from the beer and thought about just how much he missed Cecil. It dawned on him that this was the longest stretch of time since they met on that street corner in downtown Dallas that Mark had gone without seeing him. It seemed appropriate to Mark, standing here in a hotel in Nassau on a trip designed specifically for him by Cecil, that he should miss him so much right now. Mark finished drinking his beer alone, but not by himself, having the company of his friend’s memory very close to him.
After finishing his beer, he made his way out of his room and back down into the lobby area of the hotel. He navigated through the casino and to one of the three restaurants that served guests of the hotel as well as patrons of the casino. He had another beer and, with the recommendation of his waiter, ordered a dish made with some of the fish caught in the local waters of the island. When the meal arrived, Mark ate it slowly, taking in all of its flavors and watching the people move in and out of the restaurant. Mark had always entertained himself by watching people as they went about their ways—most of them unaware, for the most part, that they were being observed. He had perfected the art of watching people when he tended bar at a local watering hole in central Texas where he went to college.
As a rule, bartenders are part of the background of the bar area—just like the mirror that hangs on the wall or the empty glasses along the back of the bar. He was just there as far as most people were concerned. It had always amazed him the things people would do or say while there, never once realizing that he was standing just a few feet from them. Not that he intentionally tried to overhear what was being said. Sometimes it was just hard not to. He had learned while working as a bartender to enjoy the differences in people and watch them. The habit stayed with him as he got older and worked at places other than bars.
His talents had come to light during the negotiations with DECCO a few years ago when he and his college partners were working out the hundreds of details in the sale of their company. Most of the time Mark just sat in the room and watched as the conversations went back and forth. Later, when the Micronix team was alone, the men would discuss the offers they had been given. Mark showed a good deal of insight into what the DECCO people were thinking and what they knew and did not know about Micronix. It was no different than watching people at the bar.
These days he still liked to watch people. Sometimes he would observe people in airports or hotels and, in his mind, play a little game in which he created “histories” and stories for the people he was watching. He did not play the game tonight as he ate, but it was still fun to watch the flow of people as they moved about their business or pleasure.
During the elevator ride back to his room, Mark began to feel the full effects of the two beers, his early morning departure from the ranch, the 1,600 miles of travel and the changes in the time. When he got to his room, he undressed and crawled into the bed. Before he turned out the light and tried to settle into a good night’s sleep, he called the front desk and left a request for a wake-up call for seven thirty the next morning. With that done, Mark turned out the lamp by the bed and lay back in the darkness. He drifted off to sleep, wondering, not for the first time in the last week, what was in the safety deposit box at the Commonwealth International Bank and why he had to come all the way to Nassau to find out what Cecil had left him.
The phone in his darkened room rang at seven thirty. Mark fumbled first with the blankets on his bed and then the receiver of the phone before answering it. A young woman, with a very pleasantly accented voice, told him that it was seven-thirty and that the current temperature was sixty-two degrees. She then wished him a good day. Mark grunted a reply and put the receiver back on the cradle. He sat up on the edge of the bed and turned on the lamp, causing the pupils in his eyes to contract when assaulted by the light. He sat there for a moment before trudging off to the bathroom to make coffee. He poured water from the sink into the pot, starting the brewing process, then turned on the water for the shower. While the water heated, he walked back into the bedroom and retrieved his shaving kit from his suitcase.
He used the hot water of the shower and the coffee aroma filling the small bathroom to finish waking up. He liked the feel of the water and stood under it for a long time. If he were home getting ready to face a new day with Micronix or at the ranch, he would begin thinking about what he had to do for the day and what steps he would have to go through to get those things done. When they had first married, he used to make Amy mad by staying in the shower so long that all the hot water in their tiny hot water heater would be gone before he got out. But this morning, his mind wasn’t on anything in particular. He wondered briefly where Amy was today and what she would be doing. He did not think she would be in Paris until Thursday, at the earliest. She must still be in Russia then. He stepped out of the shower, taking one of the towels on the shelf to dry off, then moved to the vanity and poured a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. While he held the cup in one hand, he used the other to clear a spot on the mirror with his towel. Satisfied with his work, he put both the towel and the cup of coffee down and took out his shaving kit, combing his wet hair, shaving and then brushing his teeth. After he put the things he had used away, Mark once again picked up his cup of coffee and moved to the bedroom.
From his suitcase, he took out socks and underwear, a red patterned tie, a blue shirt and tan slacks. After he dressed, he transferred the contents of the pants pockets he had worn the day before into his new ones and hung the old pair of pants and the shirt in the wardrobe. He looked at his watch. It was eight forty-five. He walked into the sitting room of his suite and removed his laptop from the briefcase. He set it up and played for a moment with the hotel’s wireless connection, making sure it would connect and allow him to check his email from the hotel. He opened his electronic mailbox to find the usual assortment of junk mail and a note from Sandy with a subject line “Not important,” to let him know that it was nothing that had to be dealt with right away. He smiled to himself and then felt a little guilty about having lied to her about where he was going. Even now, while he was hundreds of miles away, she was still watching out for him. H
e had hoped to find a short note from Amy, but she was either too busy or unable to get her computer to connect from the other side of the world. He did not open any of the mail, choosing instead to delete the junk and wait until later to read the new stuff that was left. That task completed, Mark repacked the computer and locked the case.
Walking out of the room, he made his way to the elevators, where he rode once more to the lobby of the hotel and walked through the casino, already going strong despite the hour of the day, to the front desk and bought a newspaper. From the front desk, he went into the restaurant where he had eaten the night before. The hostess seated him and, without asking, poured coffee into a white china cup set before him. Mark sipped it slowly and took in the strong taste. After he ordered breakfast, he began reading the paper. He continued to read even after his food arrived and while he ate. When he finished, he paid his check and walked to the bellman’s station just off to the side of the front desk.
“Pardon me,” he said to the man standing behind the desk. The man turned and smiled at Mark. “I need to go to the Commonwealth Intercontinental Bank. I don’t know how far it is from here, but I will need to leave by taxi so I arrive about ten forty-five.”
“Oh, that’s no problem, sir,” the man said, writing on a pad of paper. “This time of day it is only about fifteen minutes away. If you will be back down here in twenty minutes or so, we will take care of you.” He took down Mark’s name and room number.
Mark thanked the man and went back to his room, where he opened the briefcase and checked to make sure that, in addition to the computer, he had the letters from Mr. Lawton, his passport, and the key. Satisfied that he had all he needed, he grabbed his coat and left the room.