Judy.
“Well that puts the antes up to one and a half, counting the DEA. Mike and I will split the rest. I did agree to be part of this. Besides, I think Mike is probably right,” added Linda.
Phil and Michael sat in the back seat. Phil gave Farris a small nudge. Using his fingers he made a small plus sign and then held up one finger. Farris responded with a thumb raised ever so slightly. Phil had just begun a new career as an emerald smuggler. Down payment, one hundred thousand dollars.
Judy was impatient to hear more details. “So now that that’s settled, what else happened? Come on, this flight is going to take another two hours. Details, guys, details!”
Phil answered. “Fernandez is an asshole. Shaking his hand is like squeezing a dead fish. It’s limp and clammy. His meetings last about thirty seconds and he doesn’t say goodbye. He just drops you and gets back to his busy schedule.”
“So what was his office like? Nice, hunh.”
“The office was OK but not really special. Think of a normal office tower. Right off the elevator is a receptionist. Behind her is a glass door and a glass wall. It’s probably bullet proof glass, though. Behind the glass, what should be the office’s bull pen, is all living room. Couches, coffee tables, a pool table, a card table. Fernandez has a nice corner office with a glass and marble desk. He sits us down on a sofa but doesn’t bother to sit himself. No offer to have a coffee or anything half human. Thirty seconds of business and he goes back to his desk. Meeting ended. He picks up the files he was working on and the goon that frisked us before bringing us in, takes us back through the lobby and to a car waiting to take us back to the hotel. The funny part is that Fernandez was the only one working. The receptionist was filing her nails … figuratively speaking … and the goons were just doing goon stuff, like reading magazines, smoking, or talking.”
“That’s not his real office,” responded Farris. “He moves around. I think he spends a lot of time at his house in the hills, but he’s never seen in public. I was surprised he saw us at all. Of course I knew him, so that was probably why. But he was smaller when I knew him. Not much different though … he was always an asshole … but a smaller one. Probably he was curious to see me. You know, to see how much I’ve aged. He’s aged too. That’s for sure!”
Linda was taking it all in but staying very quiet. Judy looked over at her and thought how Linda hated any mention of Michael Farris’ past. Their marriage was almost ideal. They put up with each others quirks and even laughed about them. They were very much in love and could show it to each other in little ways. This was a very forward thinking couple. But try to go back before they met and Linda clamped shut like a steel vault. Click! Don’t even think about discussing Michael’s history.
And after knowing Farris for a year, Judy was fully prepared to agree with Linda’s comment on the first day they met. “Michael is the most secretive person you will ever meet.”
“So what happens now?” Judy asked. “You rent a car, drive over to Fernandez’ warehouse, fill out a purchase order, put it on your Master Card and wait for the shipping guys to come back from lunch to load you?”
How Judy could ask such absurd questions, in such a deadpan voice, was her personal, special talent. It was that characteristic that kept things light in heavy weather. The other three could not keep from smiling.
Finally, Farris answered. “Fernandez told us all to go back to Guadeloupe and wait for a week or two. He’ll organize the entire sale, meaning he’ll say where we pick up the merchandise and how we pay. This isn’t a small piece of business, even for him. The delivery might be made in open water … international water … and Fernandez won’t be there. A few years ago the money would have all been in cash. It still might be that way, but it might be by electronic transfer, too. Everything is high tech today!”
“How can you get that much cash, without sending up about a million red flags?” asked Judy. “Make that five million!”
“Victor has the cash, already. When we give the word, it arrives.”
“You had this all planned out in advance, didn’t you?” said Phil.
“Of course I did. It was part of the reason we all went back to Normans Cay. Did you think we were going back home for clean undees, before our little trip?” snapped Farris.
“OK, boys! Cool it. Phil, you know that Michael will control the logistics. Michael, you know damn well that Phil won’t put up with being kept in the dark. So if you want to fight, you’ll have to step outside to do it.” Linda could be a bit harsh at times but she did tend to keep everybody in line. What she didn’t expect was two hands reaching forward from the back seats and the two doors of the plane both opening, simultaneously. The rush of wind was like a breath of fresh air, which, in fact, it was, entering the cabin.
“That’s one hell of a view, straight down. You ready Phil,” asked Farris.
“On three,” Phil responded.
“On three both you idiots close the doors. That rush of air … for a second I thought we were going to crash! Both you guys should be certified and put in padded rooms!” burst out Judy.
For the next ten minutes everyone flew in silence. Finally Judy spoke up. “Linda’s right. If we are going to pull off this caper successfully we shouldn’t piss each other off. We all have our roles to play. But the script is for everyone to see.”
“Nice analogy. And how do you define your role, Jude?” asked Phil, sarcastically.
Judy refused to be baited. “I’m the Whiz Kid,” she said proudly. “I’m the technical support. My vibrator even sweeps for bugs. You would never be here without me. I’m indispensable!” Smiling to herself she sat back, ultimately content with herself and the role she had created, knowing full well that none of the others could duplicate it.
Another ten minutes passed in silence but it was just a more comfortable silence. Phil and Michael watched the scenery until Farris closed his eyes for a nap. Linda flew the plane, constantly checking gauges and fiddling with the controls.
“You like this baby, don’t you?” asked Phil, touching Linda’s shoulder.
“I love it! That new car smell just can’t cut it next to the smell of a new plane.”
“It wouldn’t have smelled so good if I’d tossed my cookies when the jerks in the back seats opened the doors,” said Judy. She turned back in her seat toward Phil. “Hey Sailor. Think you and me could handle Iron Pyrate on our own, for a few days. Say half way to Guadeloupe? We could stay close to shore and duck into harbor if bad weather were to approach.”
Iron Pyrate was eighty feet long. Even though it was rigged to be sailed with a short crew, it was not advisable to be caught out in bad weather short handed.
“I’m game, if it’s OK with Mike and Linda.”
Linda looked over her shoulder at her husband, snoring quietly. “It’s OK with him.”
The next day Phil and Judy motored out of Cartagena harbor and within two miles had already set full sail.
“Cartagena was the big town in the days of piracy. This is where the Spaniards loaded great quantities of gold and silver from all over South America. They would make a few more stops along the way, maybe in the islands, maybe Mexico, then head back to Cuba where everything was duly recorded by the King’s accountants, and finally home to Spain. Naturally the Limeys and the Frogs would try to steal the booty or capture the entire ship all in the name of their current king or queen. As well, there were a few independents who added an additional challenge.”
“And you just wish you could hop in a time machine and go back there, don’t you?” asked Judy.
“No. I’d want to put this whole boat into the time machine and take it back. You could come along and