Rendezvous With the Fat Man

by Gail Sherman Jones

  They hugged one last time knowing it might be their last. “Hasta luego. Until we meet again,” he said sadly, then turned and left the room.

  Jan sat down on the bed pondering her last rendezvous with The Fat Man. She felt remorse and dejected about ending their business relationship with a lie. However, she had promised to help Betty begin a new life without him and her word was her bond. From Jan’s feminist perspective, it was the right thing to do.

  She was also beginning a new chapter in her life without The Fat Man. Yet, Jan was forever grateful that he protected her, was a loyal friend, and helped her make a ton of money to support a lifestyle of travel and financial security.

  The reality of her upcoming flight later that evening nudged her into action to call Aerolineas Argentinas Airlines to confirm if her flight was leaving on time. She was delighted to hear that it had been delayed for three hours. This gave her a little more time to prepare and lessen the pressure.

  Jan pulled out the large plastic baggies from her purse, double bagged smaller baggies and refilled them with the white powder. She flattened and taped them to her chest under her breasts and around her stomach. To distract from any bulges showing, Jan grabbed an oversized, long sleeved peasant blouse, emblazoned with a psychedelic pattern bursting with bold colors to camouflage the silhouette of her stomach. Her bell bottom jeans were wide enough to cover the top of her boots.

  The combination of plastic baggies and tape on her skin was extremely uncomfortable as expected. Jan hoped that she could endure the irritation and pain for the many hours she would be traveling until arriving at her hotel in Buenos Aires. She psyched herself to grin and bear the discomfort knowing David was able to do it. Jan now had a better appreciation of what mules had to tolerate on a smuggle and was about to test the belief that the most obvious hiding place was usually the least suspected.

  After a quick check in the mirror to confirm her disguised look, she finished packing her suitcase and made one more final inspection of the room to make sure nothing was left behind before walking out the door.

  When Jan entered the lobby, to her surprise it was vacant. Bolivia was playing Argentina in a nationally televised soccer match and every Bolivian in La Paz seemed to be clustered around a TV or radio, absorbed in the game. The entire city was quiet except for occasional loud cheers or boos that echoed through the street as one team or the other scored. There were no hotel guests at the front counter so Jan was able to pay her bill and check out within a few minutes.

  She arrived at the airport in plenty of time before her flight. Due to the unexpected cancellation of so many flights the day before, the airport was even more congested than usual on this day. The customs inspectors were doing their best to get through the long lines of people waiting to board their flights. Inspections were brief if they were conducted at all.

  Jan was very confident going through customs. The agents were clearly swamped and barely looked at her. They did a cursory search of her baggage, promptly stamped her passport, and certified her as legally out of Bolivia.

  Boarding the plane, Jan was pleased that her departure from La Paz had been so smooth. Once on the plane with her seatbelt fastened, she recalled her many previous visits to Bolivia, knowing now that she would probably never return.

  She managed to catch a nap on the plane to Buenos Aires, punctuated by a dream of being chased by unknown men with sacks full of cocaine, with Papi’s face swirling about in some sort of mist. The voice of the stewardess on the intercom announcing the landing of the plane finally woke her up.

  After entering the Buenos Aires International Airport terminal, Jan grabbed her bags and approached customs, exuding self-confidence that she would make it through her inspection as easily as customs in La Paz. Upon reaching the agent, she handed over her passport, opened her cosmetic and camera cases and leather bag for examination. Jan feigned a sexy smile as he finished even though she was suffering in excruciating agony from the taped baggies on her chest.

  To her surprise, he never looked once at her body. The agent handed back her passport and waved her on to the exit. And that was it. She was elated knowing that there was only one more customs inspection in Los Angeles before her smuggling career ended forever.

  Jan hailed a taxi to the Hotel Crillón. She couldn’t wait to check in to her room and extricate herself from the taped contraband under her breasts, around her stomach and ankles. After so many hours, the adhesive had irritated her skin as expected and she was suffering the extreme consequences.

  As soon as Jan entered the room, she pulled off her blouse, carefully removed the taped coke from her body and looked in the mirror to view the damage: there were hives, swelling, and painful red welts, raw and inflamed. Jan stoically accepted the annoying physical damage, knowing that in a short time it would heal and disappear. The huge payoff in the end was well worth it.

  She placed the coke baggies inside her boots in the closet and grabbed a tube of antibiotic salve from her cosmetic case to rub the oily goo into her wounds. To keep the ointment from getting on her clothes, she wrapped a towel around her torso and closed it with a safety pin. The relief was immediate and she was able to relax for the rest of the evening.

  Now it was time for her to enjoy another one of her favorite meals. Jan picked up the phone and called room service. “I’d like to order your best Argentinian filet mignon dinner, cooked well done, and a bottle of your best local red wine.”

  Jan laid on the bed to rest, mentally preparing for her drive the next day to Mar del Plata to work with the tailor Jose Maria. She felt confident his workmanship was so impeccable that there was no need to fear customs spotting any irregularity in the coat or leather bag linings.

  Finally, room service arrived. The waiter rolled in the food caddy, placing the covered plates and a bottle of Argentinian wine on the table. Jan generously tipped him and he exited the room. After removing the lid covering the meal, she marveled at the huge cuts of beef considered by most chefs as the best meat in the world.

  Swirling the vino around in her glass, she looked at its deep ruby red color with violet hues and sniffed its fruity raspberry aroma. It was the best vintage to enjoy with her meal, but she was beginning to feel a little lonely, wishing that she was sharing the moment with a companion, whether it was a mule or even a boyfriend.

  But this was no time to feel sorry for herself. She toasted herself to a successful trip and washed down a bite of meat with a full glass of merlot from the Patagonia region. The dinner was a perfect way to end the evening after a long travel day. She was totally exhausted from her non-stop work schedule for that day and quickly fell asleep.

  Early the next morning, Jan drove a rental car to Mar del Plata, just as she had done many times before to meet Jose Maria at his leather goods shop. They had been good friends for many years and she was looking forward to seeing him again. Jan hoped he would make the overall tone of her final trip a more pleasant experience than it had been thus far.

  She called him several days earlier, advising him of her arrival and he insisted she stay at his house. When Jan arrived, they spent the evening talking while sitting around his kitchen table.

  “What’s been goin’ on with you since my last visit? Jan asked.

  “Things aren’t going so well for me now. I split with my wife a couple of months ago. And the leather industry hasn’t been good. I need money badly,” Jose Maria lamented.

  “Well, hopefully I can help with that,” Jan replied.

  “I did some mental calculations and figured out how much you were profiting from the cocaine you sold in the United States. I was underpaid for my services and want a bigger piece of the ‘green pie.’ My rate is now $15,000 to help you with the leather work and packaging.”

  “What the fuck! I can’t believe what you’re charging me. That’s way too much for one night of packaging. I’m paying you $5,000, but absolutely no
more,” Jan responded incredulously.

  “I was truly hurt as a friend that you had not given me more money for each of your previous smuggles. I felt I was unfairly used considering the risk I was taking and I want you to make amends.”

  Jan tried to ameliorate the situation. “Okay then, I can only pay you $10,000 which is all the money I have left after buying the coke.” She was adamant. She would not pay Jose Maria more than $10,000 for a night’s packaging, and she wouldn’t give in merely to soothe his hurt feelings. Their heated discussion continued the rest of the night without resolution until they finally went to bed.

  Jose Maria had been a friend for years and now he was accusing her of underpaying for his services. He had never complained before. Why was this happening now?

  The next morning, he left early for work while Jan was still asleep. After she woke up and realized he was gone, she went outdoors to take a long walk and ended up running five miles instead. Her exercise time was great therapy to relieve the stress from her confrontation with Jose Maria the night before. When she returned to his house several hours later, he was sitting at his kitchen table, sipping a glass of red wine.

  Before she had a chance to acknowledge his presence, he initiated a conversation. “My wife and I have decided to end our separation and she’s moving back in with me today.”

  “Well, I’m glad to know you’re both together again,” Jan replied.

  “Also, I’ve thought about your offer and I can’t accept it. I’m sorry but you’ll have to find someone else to do the job.”

  “Ay, Dios Mío. If I could pay you more, I would,” Jan responded.

  “Unfortunately, you’ll have to leave now since we need our privacy for reconciliation.”

  She was stunned to silence and numb from his animosity. Jose Maria was acting so spiteful. Jan immediately went to the guest bedroom, packed her suitcases hurriedly and carried the luggage out to her rental car. Jose Maria walked outside to see her off, but neither one spoke as she got into the driver’s seat. Jan took one last look at him knowing their friendship was irrevocably over.

  As she drove off, a feeling of dejection and disappointment consumed her. ‘This is one of the saddest days I’ve ever experienced. Jose Maria is accusing me of exploiting him and is acting like a greedy jerk.’

  Jan drove back to Buenos Aires, sorry about losing a friend and not being able to package her cocaine. She now had to rethink her smuggling options of which there was only one remaining; carrying the stash on her body again, in her cosmetic case and stuffing the rest in her boots.

  After returning to Buenos Aires, Jan couldn’t fly home early otherwise U.S. customs would be suspicious of why she was returning so soon after her original departure. She needed to stay another week of her visa and spent that time scouring the city looking for any souvenirs displaying the names of tourist sites to prove she had supposedly been to those places. Jan also had the opportunity to enjoy the sights and actually be a tourist.

  On the day before the flight to Los Angeles, Jan began to prepare for the smuggle. She repacked the cocaine, this time into even smaller baggies that could all be flattened to conform better around her body and positioned around her calves to fit inside her boots. She worked late into the night figuring out how to make it all work. Jan pulled out a pair of knee high socks from her suitcase to put on in the morning after she taped the baggies of coke to her legs.

  Still burdened with the thought of tomorrow’s flight, Jan stared in the mirror aghast at seeing the strain and stress etched deeply in her face. To motivate herself, she spoke aloud with conviction, “You can do this. You will make it through customs. I’m totally sure of that.” Jan’s inner strength and confidence washed over her, brightening her face a bit. She felt better already knowing that in twenty-four hours she would be on the other side of those fabled ‘double doors’ that lead out of the U.S. Customs Hall. A few hours after that, she’d be toasting success with her favorite bottle of Dom Perignon ’71.

  Jan crawled into bed and set her alarm for two hours later which was 6:00 AM. As happened many previous nights, Jan tossed and turned, unable to sleep. She just laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. Before the sun rose, she dragged herself out from under the blankets and walked into the bathroom. Her eyes were red and puffy, but even a couple drops of Visine didn’t help.

  To wake herself up, Jan stepped into the shower and attempted to wash away the exhaustion. The soothing hot water ran down her hair and body while she meditated about the impending smuggle. She stepped out of the stall, wrapped herself in a towel, and wiped the steam off the mirror to take another look. There was no improvement; she still looked fatigued.

  Jan spent the rest of the time methodically packing coke baggies into the secret compartment of her cosmetic case and around her chest, under her bust and around her ankles and calves. She slipped on knee high socks and was barely able to force her legs into the high-top Frey boots. After glancing in the mirror one last time, she was satisfied that everything was okay. Jan grabbed her bags and MacGregor coat, looked around the room as usual to make sure nothing had been left behind and exited her hotel room.

  Still half asleep upon arriving at Buenos Aires International Airport, Jan approached the Aerolineas Argentines first class counter to check in. A young, good-looking man came out of the back room to assist the ticket agent. Even before taking her ticket, he looked at Jan with a pleased and surprised expression.

  “Isn’t your name Jan Sherman?” he asked her, waking Jan immediately.

  “Yes,” she replied in shock and now more fully awake.

  “How have you been since your last trip to Buenos Aires?”

  “I can’t believe you remember me after assisting thousands of passengers since that time,” she said hiding her uneasiness.

  “I never forget a pretty face.”

  She didn’t remember the man. When he took her ticket and baggage tags, he told her to follow him and escorted her around the airport, carrying her hand luggage and camera case as she paid the airport tax. Then he walked her straight past the hand baggage check counter to the Immigration Desk, where her passport was quickly stamped, certifying her legally out of the country.

  She hoped her airport departure would continue smoothly, without any slip-ups. It was not over yet. He finally led her through the double doors of the First Class lounge, depositing her camera and cosmetic cases near the coffee bar. He asked the bartender for a couple of espressos.

  Jan now turned to the man, studying him for a moment before remembering that she had met him at the airport on the last drug smuggle with David several months ago. Still, he remembered so much about her, including her middle name and the fact that she had been carrying a Haliburton camera case. She began to wonder what he was really doing by escorting her through the airport and lingering with her in the first class lounge.

  Could he just be ‘making sure’ she was on this flight, delivering her for arrest when she arrived back in the United States? She tried to hide her uneasiness as her heart began to pound once again. Several espressos later, he walked her to the plane, deposited her to a seat in the first class section, and reminded her to fasten the seat belt. Then he smiled, wished her a pleasant flight and left with a wave of his hand to say goodbye.

  She just sat stunned, incredulous that her exit from Buenos Aires would be so flawless with the help of an airline employee. One more hurdle to overcome and then she would soon be home in Los Angeles, California, USA.

  By now, she was so exhausted that she fell asleep after take-off. There was plenty of time to nap since the next stopover was seven hours later in Bogota, Colombia. She was awakened by the announcement of the imminent arrival and the request to fasten seat belts. Her nervousness returned as she waited in her seat a few moments while the other passengers disembarked after landing.

  She finally exited the plane with the others and dashed to
the restroom to inspect and adjust the tape around her chest. After entering a toilet stall, she lifted her blouse and felt the area around the tape holding the plastic coke baggies. Her skin was red and swollen but there was nothing she could do at that moment to quell the pain and discomfort. It was a true test of stoicism; time to bite the bullet.

  Jan left the restroom and headed to the food counter serving Colombian coffee. She needed a quick jolt of caffeine to wake her up. As her order arrived, the loudspeaker announced that passengers had to immediately re-board the plane for the trip back to Los Angeles. She downed the hot brew as fast as she could before entering the departure area.

  The remainder of the last flight passed without incident. Many long hours later, the plane touched down amid the blinking lights of the Los Angeles International Airport.

  “Welcome to LAX. The temperature is 68 degrees. If this is your first visit to the ‘City of Angels’, enjoy your visit,” the stewardess announced over the speaker.

  Jan looked out the window onto the runway as the plane taxied to the arrival gate and shut off its engines. All the passengers began rounding up their personal belongings and prepared to disembark. Suddenly, a U.S. Customs car with flashing lights drove out to the plane.

  “To all passengers, please return to your seats. We are being towed to another part of the arrival building. Please wait for my announcement to disembark,” the stewardess said.

  In all the years that Jan had traveled extensively abroad, she had never experienced this at LAX. She was as surprised as the other passengers. Reluctantly, she returned to her seat and watched out the window as the first car with flashing lights was joined by another, this time an official airport car. She hoped she was not being expected.

  They were towed for several minutes before finally coming to a stop next to other planes still out on the tarmac. The announcement was finally given that they could disembark, while the cars with the flashing lights were parked at the bottom of the steps. Jan busied herself with her things, waiting for the other passengers to leave the plane first. She hoped the customs inspectors would give her no more than a cursory inspection so they could deal with the crowds that would be impatiently waiting.