Rendezvous With the Fat Man

by Gail Sherman Jones

  Jan settled in her room and immediately called The Fat Man. “Papi, it’s Jan. I’m in Santa Cruz.”

  “Chiquita! You’re back so soon.”

  “Everyone loved your coke and I sold all of it. In fact, I brought one of my friends, Billy, who wanted to buy some. Is that okay?”

  There was a noticeable pause. “A friend of yours is a friend of mine,” he responded.

  “Can you meet us tonight at 8:00, room 318 at the El Cortez?”

  “Claro. Of course. I’ll see you soon.”

  As Jan hung up, Billy knocked on her door. After letting him in her room, she noticed that he definitely appeared to be high on something. “Are you all right?” Jan asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he answered.

  “You look a little wired to me, but you better get your act together because I just spoke to Papi and he’ll be here in three hours,” Jan informed him.

  “Just enough time to get a buzz at the bar,” he replied.

  “Or, you can stay in your room to rest and freshen up a bit. We’re about to conduct business for crissakes,” Jan admonished him.

  “Chill out. It’s just a couple of drinks.”

  Billy turned and walked out the door before she could stop him. She shrugged, annoyed by his obstinacy and unwillingness to listen to her. After unpacking her suitcase, she played the waiting game on him. Three hours had passed and Jan was still alone, tapping her fingers on the table, angrier by the minute that he hadn’t returned. Finally there was a knock at the door and she quickly answered it. It’s wasn’t Billy, but Papi.

  He smiled broadly as he entered the small room.

  “Hola, Chiquita.”

  “It’s nice to be back in Santa Cruz,” Jan said as she hugged him.

  “Where’s your friend?”

  “He went for a drink at the bar. He’ll be back shortly. I told him what time you’d be here.”

  It was clear that Papi wasn’t pleased about the delay. He opened his leather bag anyway and handed her a half-kilo package. “His loss. This is yours.” He handed her another small packet. “This is his. I haven’t made my mind up whether or not to do business with him. I always like to meet someone first. You can tell a lot about a person just by spending a little time with them.”

  Jan nodded. She understood. Papi took his gun from his waistband and placed it on the table which Jan already knew was not to use against her. It was one of the tools of his trade.

  “You should try the new stuff,” he suggested. Papi smiled, beguiled by her natural beauty and waited patiently as she snorted a line.

  “Damn, that’s better than the last stuff,” Jan revealed.

  “Good. Now you can charge more. Only the best for my friend,” he bragged.

  Before she could say anything, Billy stumbled through the door, obviously drunk. Jan quickly hid Papi’s half-kilo ‘coke’ stash in her purse just before Billy saw it.

  “Sorry I’m late. I met another American in the bar,” Billy slurred.

  He walked directly to Papi and held out his hand. “I’m Billy. Nice to meet you,” as he shook Papi’s hand vigorously.

  Jan and Papi glanced at each other with the same incredulous look reacting to an inebriated Billy. Papi finally responded, “You have a very strong handshake.”

  Billy gave a sheepish grin and looked intimidated. “Thank you,” he said nervously.

  Papi clearly was not impressed and greeted him with restraint. Unfortunately, Billy missed his displeasure once he spotted the coke, more interested in getting some of the sought after crystal up his nose. “Aw, man. That stuff looks far out!” Billy said in awe.

  Jan was irritated, but tried to make the best of a bad situation. Billy stumbled as he rushed to sample the product and knocked into the table, spilling nearly a full glass of water right onto the mirror. Where there had just been 50 grams of pure Bolivian cocaine, there was now only a puddle of water and a soggy wax paper packet. A look of horror crossed Billy’s face once he realized what he had just done. Papi said nothing but Jan exploded. “Shit, Billy. You’ve got to be more fucking careful with this stuff,” Jan scolded him.

  “I’m so sorry. I must be drunk.”

  “Sorry isn’t good enough. And yes, you are super drunk.” Jan got madder by the second.

  Papi, however, was over it. “I think I’ve seen all I needed to know. Billy, you can pay me later,” Papi warned him.

  “It was an accident. I shouldn’t have to pay for it,” Billy implored like a petulant child.

  “Papi, I’ll pay. Problem solved,” Jan interjected. “Billy, please leave. I’d like to speak with Papi alone.” He fled the room like a puppy dog with his tail between his legs.

  “This guy is a total fool and he’s causing problems for you. It’s dangerous to work with him and that’s why I won’t,” Papi adamantly warned Jan.

  “I agree, but unfortunately, I’m stuck with him. I was supposed to travel with his business partner, Ed, but he couldn’t break away from his medical practice and sent Billy instead. You know I’m good for the money. I wired you the dinero for the stuff you gave me at the airport in Santa Cruz. I’ll just do the same when I get back to Ibiza.”

  “I trust you, Chiquita. But remember one thing. Your reputation is the company you keep. Billy is a sorry excuse for a man. He acts more like an immature teenager.”

  “I knew that the moment I met him. And thanks for bringing this coke over,” Jan replied with a big smile.

  “I only do it for you,” Papi said with endearment.

  After the Fat Man left the room, she stood at the door for a moment to reflect on his advice. Jan learned on her first trip that he was very perceptive and a shrewd judge of character. She felt safe working with him and knew he would always protect her.

  Jan decided to go to Billy’s room and found his door ajar. After walking in, she found him sprawled across the bed loudly snoring. To vent her frustration, she grabbed a pillow next to him and slammed it over his head. He popped up immediately with a scowl.

  “Have you lost your fucking mind? You just blew it with Papi and sabotaged your best drug connection. There’s no way he’ll do business with you now,” Jan yelled at him.

  “Chill out. He’s not the only drug dealer around here. We’re in South America, for fuck’s sake. Cocaine is on every corner.”

  “Then maybe you should just go find another corner,” Jan screamed back.

  “As a matter of fact, I already did. That’s what took me so long. I met a guy at the bar and he has his own supplier,” Billy responded.

  “Who is he?” Jan asked.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Billy shouted back.

  “It does matter who he is, asshole. You’re known by the company you keep.”

  Billy rolled his eyes. “It’s just a score. I’ve done dozens. How many have you done?” Jan didn’t answer. “This guy was looking for someone to help pay for a kilo of cocaine and I got in on it. And it’s a damned good thing I did, considering your friend has screwed up the deal,” Billy said.

  “Are you crazy? You screwed it up. And this guy you met, you don’t know anything about him.”

  “I know more about him than I know about your precious Papi. He won’t leave me hanging.”

  “Yeah, he will. By the neck,” Jan countered.

  “What do you know? You’re just some bitch with one lousy contact.”

  Jan slammed out of the door yelling at Billy in the hallway. “One’s all you need, dick head.”

  She rushed into her room, slammed the door shut and secured the chain lock. To make her mood even worse, Jan eyed the cocaine puddle still on the table reminding her about Billy’s drunken behavior. She quickly cleaned it up to get rid of the evidence. Exhausted from all of Billy’s unnecessary drama, Jan climbed into bed and fell fast asleep.

  Sever
al hours later, she was roused by the phone ringing in a pitch black room. Rolling over to extend her hand over the night stand, Jan grabbed the receiver. “Hello. Where are you?” she asked.

  It was Billy calling from the hotel bar. Jan reluctantly got out of bed, pulled some clothes from her suitcase and dressed. She took a quick look in the mirror to confirm her hair was not disheveled, then exited her room.

  Entering the bar, she spotted Billy sitting next to a guy who appeared to be an American in his mid-thirties, tall and good-looking, smiling appreciatively as she approached. He had medium length brown hair which covered his ears, a mustache that drooped at the corners of his mouth, and soft, brown eyes.

  “This is the guy I was telling you about,” Billy said.

  The guy extended his hand. Jan shook it with a strong grasp. “Hi, I’m Jim. Billy has been telling me all about you.”

  “Well, I guess you already know my name is Jan. Nice to meet you. So what brings you to Bolivia?”

  “I work for an importing firm in San Francisco.”

  “What do you do?” she inquired.

  “My territory covers Bolivia, Peru, and Ecuador, and I travel to these countries year-round searching for indigenous art and handicrafts for export,” Jim responded.

  “I’m a photographer and writer,” Jan replied.

  “Billy tells me you’re a Californian, right? I can always tell. You’ve got that West Coast look.”

  Jan laughed. “You think so? We’ll you’re right. LA to be exact.”

  Jim ordered pisco sours from the bartender for the three of them. “Have you ever had a pisco sour? It’s the national drink of Peru,” Jim informed them.

  “I’ve never heard of it before. What are the ingredients?” Jan inquired.

  “It’s Latin America’s elegant cocktail made from a pisco liquor base, key lime juice, egg whites, angostura bitters for garnish, and ice cubes,” Jim explained.

  The bartender served the drinks topped with a velvety froth. Jan and Billy took long sips to savor their first taste. “Remember, you drink with the eyes first,” Jim added.

  “It’s okay, but I still prefer my American brewsky, Budweiser beer,” Billy admitted.

  “I’m always game to try new things. I really like its boozy sweetness,” Jan responded.

  “Someone told me that actress Ava Gardner got totally drunk at a Hollywood party after drinking too many pisco sours and had to be carried away by John Wayne. Ernest Hemingway and Orsen Wells were big fans of the Peruvian drink as well.”

  “Wow, you really know your drinks and movie star trivia don’t you?” Jan commented.

  “I learned that when I was bartender in San Francisco,” Jim said.

  “That explains it,” Billy replied.

  Jim grabbed his leather satchel and pulled out a large clay statue. Jan eyed it with wonder before she took it in her hands. “Beautiful,” she said with sincere praise.

  “She’s Pacamama, Mother Earth, a pregnant fertility goddess. You can have her,” Jim graciously offered.

  “Oh, no. I can’t accept this.”

  “Why not? I’ve got dozens. They sell well in the States.”

  “In that case, thank you very much.”

  Jan felt very comfortable talking to Jim and was attracted to his easy-going, mellow personality, compared to Billy who was antsy to get down to business. “Thanks to his importing work, Jim knows a guy who can get us what we need.”

  “What YOU need. I’m here for guidance only,” Jan confirmed.

  “I have a Canadian friend in Lima who could help score what you want,” Jim added. Jan studied him silently as he continued his pitch. “Tomorrow I’m flying to see him for business. Since my company booked a private plane, you guys can come with me as well.”

  Jan shook her head. “I’m not going anywhere. I just met you.”

  “I’ll be there with you,” Billy interjected.

  “That’s comforting to know,” she answered facetiously.

  “It’s perfectly safe. I pick up artifacts from Wayne every time I’m in Peru,” Jim assured her.

  Jan glared at him thinking that he was trying too hard to convince her. “I’ll talk to Billy later and have an answer for you in the morning, if that’s okay,” she replied.

  “I need to know before noon so I can make arrangements with Wayne. Here’s my business card,” Jim responded.

  “Billy and I need to leave right now. It’s late and I’m extremely tired. He’ll get back to you with our answer as you requested.”

  Jan and Billy returned to her room to consider Jim’s offer. Unfortunately, Billy’s inebriated mind was already made up to do the trip. None of Jan’s warnings convinced him that it was a shaky proposition. She knew this business venture was costing him a lot of money and understood Billy’s desperation, similar to her situation just a few months ago. Therefore she reluctantly agreed to go. Billy happily staggered back to his room knowing he had a new drug connection to replace Papi.

  Jan decided to call the airport to push their departure reservations from Bolivia ahead twenty-four hours. While speaking with the airline representative, Jan stretched the long phone cord across the floor and pried open the ventilation grate near the baseboard with her utility knife. She pulled Papi’s bag of coke from her purse, grabbed their passports and her money belt and placed them on the bed. As a precaution, she decided to hide everything in the vent before putting the grate back in place. Just in case, she thought.

  The next afternoon, the three of them flew to Lima, Peru, checked into a hotel, then took a taxi to Wayne’s apartment located in a suburb of Miraflores. After being dropped off, they stood in front of a modern, ten-story building on a side street a block and a half from the beach. Jim walked towards the front entrance and Billy followed. Jan remained in place a few seconds, reluctant at first, but finally joined them. The front door of the edifice was always locked, controlled by tenants buzzing visitors in, but they were able to gain access immediately as someone exited.

  Wayne’s apartment was on the eighth floor, so they took the elevator up. After walking to his front door, Jim knocked and waited, then knocked again. There was no response. He tried the door knob and surprisingly, it was unlocked. He cracked the door open and peered in to a darkened room. Not seeing anyone, Jim stepped inside, motioning Billy and Jan to follow. Again, Jan was hesitant to go with them, but finally acquiesced.

  All they could see was empty space; not even a piece of furniture in the living room. As they searched the rest of the apartment for Wayne, Jan noticed a few sleeping figures sprawled on mattresses in the back rooms. Finally they found Wayne, asleep in one of the small bedrooms towards the rear of the apartment, wrapped in a torn sleeping bag, like he was camping inside. He was young, unkempt, and completely unconscious.

  Jim pulled out a pungent marijuana bud from a baggie in his pocket and waved it under Wayne’s nose. He immediately woke with a start and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. After recognizing Jim, they shared a coded handshake.

  “Jim, I wasn’t expecting you until Friday.” Jan rolled her eyes and Billy laughed.

  “It is Friday, man,” Jim responded.

  “Oh, right. Right,” Wayne mumbled. He reached for a cigar box containing his weed stash and quickly rolled his own joint for them to share. After lighting it and taking a long toke, Wayne handed the joint over to Jim.

  “Fuck. Yeah,” Jim responded after inhaling deeply, then exhaling a long plume of smoke.

  Jim offered Billy the joint. He gladly took a hit and passed it on to Jan, who up to this point had not said a word. She firmly declined with a head shake. Something didn’t feel right after appraising the surroundings, but she couldn’t quite grasp it. Jan heard people coming and going in other parts of the apartment and occasionally somebody would wander past Wayne’s room, eyeing her curiously.

  “Be
sides picking up the art pieces you have for me, I wanted to know if you could help us score some coke?” Jim asked.

  Wayne confidently smiled. “Damn right. I can get it without any problem, but probably not until tomorrow evening. Is that okay?” Jan was skeptical, but nodded in agreement. “And who are you?” Wayne inquired.

  “I’m Jim’s friend,” Jan informed him, purposely not giving her name. Wayne looked her over momentarily in a dismissive way.

  “Tell me the coke is as good as this weed and I’ll give you my money right now. By the way, I’m Billy.”

  Jan grew increasingly annoyed at his stupid remarks since he was high as a kite. “Guys, I think it’s time for us to leave. We’ll see you tomorrow, Wayne, at the same time as tonight.”

  The three of them got up to leave, while Wayne fell back into his tattered sleeping bag. He was even more zonked out after smoking weed than when they first arrived. Jan was exhausted and just wanted to return to their hotel and crash for the night.

  During the drive back, Jan quizzed Jim about Wayne. “How do you know each other and what does Wayne do?”

  Jim thought a long moment before replying. “Wayne told me he was involved with a smuggling ring that shipped large quantities of cocaine to Canada, concealed beneath the ceramic tops of beautifully carved wooden tables. He boasted about how that successful smuggle operation had made him a millionaire.”

  “You gotta be kidding me. He’s the poorest millionaire I’ve ever seen,” Jan joked.

  “You got a point. This is the first time I’ve ever been to his place. We usually met at a souvenir shop in Lima or he came to my house in Quito with the Indian artifacts I needed to ship to America,” Jim admitted.

  “How did Wayne end up in Peru in the first place?

  “I don’t know,” Jim confessed. He seemed a little more dubious about his drug transaction with Wayne, yet decided to continue on their mission. He clearly was oblivious to any warning signs since he worked with him for several years. And with that answer, Jan let the matter slip from her mind.

  The next day, her suspicions about Wayne grew as Jim tried repeatedly to contact him to no avail. Either he wasn’t in or wasn’t answering their calls. Whatever the reason, her feelings of uneasiness intensified. Once again, she felt a shiver of doubt that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her instincts told her that something was wrong. This feeling of foreboding haunted her in spite of Jim’s numerous attempts at reassurance.