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

  Chapter 7

  As I made my rounds on Wednesday I began to notice people paying attention to me. Some were women, some were men. A lot of them looked very shifty. There was no way to tell how many of them were watching me under orders. Just before I left the first of several bars that were on my agenda for the evening I talked to one of the bartenders.

  “Know anyone who needs some import-export work done.” I was sitting at the quietest end of the bar and he had just brought me a single malt scotch.

  “Nope. Nothing comes to mind.” He was being cagey. For all he knew I was an undercover cop and he wanted to stay out of trouble.

  “Well if you hear of anyone give them my name: Lee Williams.” I peeled a hundred out of my pocket and handed it to him. “Keep the change. If you hear of something and let me know, then you will have earned it. Thanks.”

  “I’ll keep my ears open. How can I get in touch with you?”

  “I will be back in here. I have to head out of town on business for a few days but I will be back. Just let me know when you see me.” I grinned at him and he nodded at me. He started back down the bar. It was time for me to move on. I drank the scotch quickly but I did not just toss it back. There are some things you do not do with good whisky.

  I repeated the conversation at three other bars that evening. People tend to work harder to please you when they feel that they owe you something. I did not repeat the good whisky at the other bars, at those I got the cheap stuff that I did not mind spilling and not drinking. Massive tips are expensive but since the money we were using was confiscated drug proceeds I could spread it around without having to explain to some accountant how it was not busting our budget. Explaining field work necessities to bureaucrats is not fun.

  As I headed back to my humble abode I was tired and very sober. Even so I could not tell you the exact route that I took back to the safe house. I do know that it was very twisty and had lots of turns. As I have said before tradecraft was almost hard wired into my brain by then. The early years when I had trained myself and then the training by the professionals since I had taken the job with the GIA made it difficult to forget to practice tradecraft. I even found myself watching for tails when I was at a shopping mall. Of course, that was not necessarily a bad idea. There are people who do not like me, it goes with the job.

  The next two nights were pretty much the same pattern. I hit the clubs in different order so that there might be different groups there. Some of the regulars began to acknowledge me as I walked through the places. Bartenders, I made a point of talking to different ones, were much more open to me. So far no one had passed along anything useful, but they did not seem as standoffish. Thursday night started off the same as the previous nights until I hit what was going to be my last stop of the night.

  I was at the quietest end of one of the bars in the club and it was none too quiet. Disco lights were flashing, the music was too loud and the dance floor was too crowded for dancing. A white guy about my age walked up to me, stood at the bar and motioned for the bartender. I did not hear what he ordered. He was wearing pants that were probably fake leather and definitely way too tight; a shirt in a ridiculous shiny silver color with what looked like sharks printed on the fabric, around his neck hung a thin purple tie that looked almost like vinyl. His entire outfit screamed ‘lack of fashion sense’. I may not be very fashionable myself, but I at least know when something looks terrible. It was as if he was wearing the goofy white guy costume. When the bartender had brought his drink, something with a paper umbrella, he spoke to me after the bartender walked away.

  “I hear you are looking for some work in the transportation field. Come outside where we can talk and I may have something for you.” The vibe he was giving off was one of someone spreading manure. The situation stank.

  “Nah, give me the basics here and I will decide if you’re worth my time.” He was standing to my right, facing the bar and leaning on it slightly. He turned slightly toward me as he replied.

  “No, let’s go outside.” He glanced down to draw my attention to his right hand. He had a short shiny switchblade, an almost useless knife in his hand. The blade was so flimsy looking that the knife was only good for stabbing. Any side to side flex and it would probably snap like a toothpick and even stabbing it might not reach anything vital. Here was an idiot trying to prove how tough he was. Thus began his lesson into the art of true badassism.

  “Are you trying to rob me?” I now was wearing a ‘you have to be kidding grin’.

  “Yes I am.” He smiled a really goofy grin. I think he was trying to look tough. “Just head for that exit behind you and you probably won’t get hurt. I know you have a lot of cash and drive a really nice car. So we are going to collect your usage fee for being on our turf.” I now knew he was not alone.

  “Sure, there’s no point in getting hurt over something replaceable.” I started to turn to my left as if I was about to head for the door, but then I turned back. He was still pretty much facing the bar. From his position the knife was almost impossible to bring into play without everyone in the place seeing the motion. I took a long and thoughtful pause and then I spoke in a cold hard and dangerous sounding voice, “On second thought, go screw yourself.”

  As I spoke I quickly did the one thing he never expected. My right hand shot out and grabbed his tie. His left hand reached for my hand rather than try to use the knife. I grabbed the stupid looking tie and yanked downward as if ringing a church bell. The fabric was substantial enough to function well as a bell pull. The motion did ring his bell. My hard pull against his non braced body caused his forehead to rapidly try to occupy the space that held the nonmoving bar. The sound was almost audible over the music and conversation, but not very audible, more of a dull thud. I let go of the tie and his head bounced upward. I figure that his eyes rolled back in his head as his pea brain rattled around his skull. His knees buckled and he went straight down like someone in a cartoon and lay sprawled on the floor. Bowties may look silly, but they are hard to use against you.

  Personally I was just glad he hadn’t been wearing a clip on. If I had been in a movie I might have said something really clever before tugging so hard on the tie, but I was not in a movie. The situation happened so fast that there was no time to say anything and besides, I did not think of a great line till he was already hitting the floor. It is just not right to waste a good quip on an unconscious man. I pulled out a money clip and peeled out a single bill.

  Handing the money to the bartender who had seen the commotion and started my way I spoke to him, “See that Mr. Franklin helps get this idiot poured into a cab. Some people should not drink or be more careful who they drink with.” I smiled and as I did I saw the bartender hold up a hand and shake his head no in the universal motion of ‘stop its okay’ as he looked past me. I guessed that he was waving off one or more of the bouncers. From what I knew of this place a bit of violence was not uncommon and was accepted under certain circumstances. This incident probably fit under some category of those that were okay. Everyone who saw the event occur probably figured that either the unconscious man had tried to hit on a straight guy who took offense or there was a past history. The fact that I did nothing after that sudden violent movement helped me with the staff. I obviously was not looking for trouble. It probably also helped that I had told my story of looking for ‘transportation’ work to several of the bartenders over a few nights. The money that I had spread around may have also been a factor, don’t kill the golden goose. A hundred dollar tip is something you want more of. Besides, the situation was over and there were people in the place who would not want to see police come into the establishment. There was not really even a blip in the music or noise. There would be a rather large increase in my street cred. Now the staff was certain that I was not to be trifled with so my inquiries into work opportunities would get to a higher class of thug. Most of the people in the place did not see anything because it happened so fast.

  As I headed fo
r the exit that the now unconscious man had indicated I glanced back and two burly men were lifting the ‘would be’ robber off the floor. Now it became a guessing game. How many friends did he have outside? My intuition told me probably one and no more than two. The weapons I would be facing were probably clubs, knives or fists and feet. Gunshots outside of a busy business tended to draw police rapidly and quite a few of the patrons at this establishment did not want to see police in the area. Reaching the door I paused before making my way out the door. I took a deep breath, put my right hand on the butt of the .45 hanging horizontally in the small of my back and then slowly pushed the latch bar until it disengaged. My shoulder slammed the door open.

  Anyone to the right of the doorway would now be avoiding the door. I moved quickly to the left. Standing there was one man dressed in a similar fashion to the man in the club. His eyes were as big as saucers. Taking a quick glance to the right as I drew the Commander size 1911 from the holster I saw that the man was alone. The door bounced back after the end of its travel and returned to a closed position. By this time the big bore of the pistol was in the field of view of the man in the alley. To him it probably looked as big as a drainage culvert under the interstate. He began to stammer.

  “It was all Larry’s idea. He said that someone wanted us to hassle you. He decided to make some extra money by robbing you and maybe stealing your car. Don’t kill me. Please!”

  “Did Larry tell you who hired him to hassle me?” This might actually turn out to be a positive thing. “Hurry up my hand feels like a spasm is coming on and this gun has a light trigger.”

  “He said it was some of the guys from Robertson’s Import Motors. When those guys ask you to do something the safe thing is to do it. They paid us in cash and blow.”

  “Your friend is going to have a very bad headache. In fact I would take him to a hospital. He may have a concussion. His head bounced off of a bar. Tell him that if he wants revenge that is a very bad idea. Next time he might not be able to wake up. Now take off your clothes. Right down to your skivvies. You can keep your socks on and keep your shoes.”

  He hesitated until I waved the big gun a bit and then he began to strip. You really do get more with a kind word and a gun than with just a kind word. I held out my left hand and he handed his pants and shirt to me. He was either very cold or very scared. Considering the heat and humidity of the Miami night he was probably scared, I half expected him to lose bladder control. I turned toward the end of the alley that came out on the street where the club’s main entrance was located.

  “I will leave these with someone at the door. You have a nice night.” I said as I turned. As I handed the clothes to linebacker looking man at the front door I had another hundred on top of the bundle. “There is a man in his underwear in the alley. Could you see that he gets these?” I smiled sweetly and then headed for my car. Not a bad night. My quarry had decided to make contact, in an odd manner but contact none the less. His attempt to check me out had given me the opportunity to prove I was a hard man. All in all the night had turned out pretty good. I could now make that trip to Pensacola.

  Chapter 8

  John called me five minutes after I had locked the door behind me and reset the security system. One of the watchers had let him know that I was safely ensconced for the night. I answered the phone on the third ring.

  “Hello,” no fancy phone code words or anything like that. Anyone calling this number was either on my side or it was a real wrong number.

  “You had a bit of an interesting evening. Did you have to hit that guy so hard?” I guessed right then that the two men were in custody somewhere. Good, if folks who bother you disappear you get a certain reputation for ruthlessness. “For the record he had a knife and I never hit him. He hit his head violently against the bar. He must have been some sort of masochist. It was an exciting evening all right between the man hitting his head on the bar and the almost naked man in the alley. Who knew how wild this town was?” I laid it on thick. “I take it both are in custody by now?”

  “Your backup crew called in local LEOS who arrested the man in his underwear. The ambulance that picked up the one man was not an ambulance. It turns out that they both have arrest warrants out for them, mostly for petty stuff. We are interrogating the conscious one; he waved his right to an attorney. He seemed very scared and kept mumbling something about a massive gun in his face. The other one is in a hospital for overnight observation. It seems that he may have a concussion and he does definitely have a broken nose. The good news is that the blood may have ruined that awful shirt. The half naked guy is singing like a canary. So in a round about way our target has made contact.”

  “So it would seem. If he sent two wannabes to harass me he must be interested in how I handle myself. If he thought I was a problem he would have sent his first string and not the practice squad.”

  “That would be my bet,” John replied. “Now on to other business, your boat is ready to go. We have transportation to Pensacola NAS ready for you in the morning and someone lined up to help you bring the boat back to the Miami area. Go to the general aviation office at Miami International by 10 AM tomorrow. Your transportation will be waiting. You will know right away who it is. Now get some sleep. The next couple of days are going to be a very long boat ride.”

  I took his advice and got to bed not long after he had called me. The hour was not extremely late as the incident had occurred at my last visit for the evening. I got into a hot shower, watched a little television news and went to bed. By 7:30 that Friday morning I was awake and getting ready to head out to the airport. After some coffee I tossed a couple of days of practical clothes into a small bag. When I left the house I was armed, heavily so, and I was also carrying my Federal Marshal ID card and badge. I was going to be at an airport and on a naval air station so I would need the ID to explain the weapons. The road was calling me and I was moving by 8:10. The only stop I made on the way to the airport was for a bite of breakfast at a chain restaurant near the interstate. I rolled through the gate into the general aviation area just after 9 AM. After I parked the car I grabbed my bag and went into the FBO (fixed base operator) office to see if my ride was there yet. Sitting outside was a chopper with a Marine Corps paint scheme, the one used for transport aircraft. A familiar face was in the room and drinking coffee as he usually was. Unusually, for him, he was actually in a Marine Corps flight suit. The rank insignia was that of a Major. Someone had gotten a bump in rank because the last time we talked he was a Captain.

  “Hello Hank.” He looked up from his coffee and the chart he was studying. Hank was a pilot who worked for the government, but was not actually paid directly by the government. He was deniable transportation. “Is that your bird?” I pointed outside. “Not as nondescript as you usually fly,” I was grinning broadly as I spoke.

  “This ride is part of my reserve commitment. There I was goofing off at NAS Pensacola and they tell me to fly down here to transport some government type. This time I get to fly an official government bird.”

  “Am I early?”

  “When I found out you were the passenger I figured you might be early. I am fueled up and ready to go as soon as I file a final flight plan and get clearance.” He drained the last of his coffee. “Let me hit the head and then file that flight plan. You can go on out to the chopper.”

  “Hitting the head sounds like a good idea. I’ve also had several cups of coffee this fine morning.” When I finished up he filed his flight plan while I went to the chopper.

  After putting my bag in the back seat area I climbed into the right side seat and buckled up. Hank appeared, coming through the door just as I got the seat belt latched. He did a quick walk around check of the bird and climbed inside. I was wearing a light weight jacket and took my sunglasses out of the pocket before I put on the noise canceling headset. He buckled in and then began the startup procedures. He put on his own headset as the turbine wound up to full song. I listened to his conversation with t
he control tower but did not really pay any attention to it. The rotor began to spin up to speed. A few moments later we lifted up a few feet and ‘taxied’ to our designated runway. Then we were airborne. When we exited the pattern we were cleared outbound and settled in for the flight to the northwest. We did not talk much till after we got out of the Miami International control area.

  “So they made you a Major since I last saw you. Gee, that’s only been a few months. Do they often promote reservists?” I was smiling behind the cover of the boom mike on the headset.

  “Not too often, I got the bump last month just before my scheduled yearly two weeks. I also was supposed to be somewhere in Virginia for that two weeks. I think I see the hand of a retired Army General in this little drama,” He laughed. “The official reason for the promotion was to assist in my interaction with ranking officials that I might be transporting.”

  “Yeah that sounds a little odd. I wonder what the Old Man is up to. Most people play checkers and he plays three dimensional chess. Make that four dimensional, let’s include time. He plays for the long haul.” We both were well aware of General Fleming’s machinations.

  “He must have something on someone to get a Marine Reservist promoted. On second thought, he either called in a favor or promised a favor. Have you noticed how the political types fall all over themselves to try and have him owe them?” It was a very good observation on Hank’s part. Lots of political types had tried to have something to hold over the General to get him involved in some pet project of theirs. I don’t think that it had ever worked. You cannot threaten a man who either knows all the secrets in town or knows the people who know the secrets he doesn’t.