Chapter Five
Mick was tremendously disappointed with the sailboat. In his mind he was to have been put to use busily scrambling around winching up sails and learning to tie knots. Instead, the engine was put to use for the entire trip, with speed being the priority – not Mick’s sailboat dreams, now crushed under the weight of diesel fumes and calm seas.
As for the travel companions, Mick had memorized the basic fake facts and fictional relationship connections between himself, Ally and the quiet couple on whose yacht they were catching a Plan B ride. There were no bulk quantities of drugs on board, so any interrogation by a long-distance American coast guard patrol would be brief. But Mick didn’t take his task of memorizing the made-up story too seriously, nor did he take the yacht couple seriously. Apparently, in real life their new travel companions were anarchist sympathizers who wanted to do their part. Mick figured this was typical: wealthy white leisure class couple with revolutionary leftist sympathies. On a yacht. Heading to Cuba.
Ally sat down next to Mick on the deck and asked “You familiar with Cuban port of entry practices?”
“Yup. Anonymous one month visa on arrival for $500 that can be redeemed with a voucher that shows you bought and lost at least $500 worth of chips at a casino.”
“I was thinking more about the zapping booths.”
“Oh, that.”
“You have implants?”
“Yeah, I have an appetite suppressor implant.”
“I don’t think it’s functioning, Mick.”
“It is. It’s only set to kill my appetite after 7pm for a few hours.”
“Well, consider it fried. I hope you don’t get too fat.”
“I don’t know, Alison. The casinos have lots of really cheap seafood.”
“Well, you can swallow another implant in the departure lounge of the Havana airport, so you have only a week or so to get fat.”
Mick was concerned about the airport departure. Skeptical, he asked “Is that deal with anonymous departure legit? We’re coming in on a boat, but leaving into international airspace is a bit more serious.”
“Yes. Definitely. $1000 cash and they don’t enter your name in the European or American systems as you go through exit customs.”
“Plus $500 for a new implant. Bastards.”
“Well, be grateful that tech implants are banned. You should be happy to see that ridiculous ‘No Cyborg’ sign at arrival customs. You know that if it wasn’t Cuba, then some idiot with an implant in their hair or eyebrow or nose ring would unintentionally record video and audio of you and then upload it later. I would give you about 24 hours before an instant match is made to your face or voice.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a list of no-go countries that allow recording implants. I just wish they wouldn’t zap my stomach implant. It’s harming no one.”
“Well, they have to zap everything to be sure.”
“Have you been in a zapping booth before?” he asked Ally.
“A hundred times – at least.”
“This will only be my fifth time. We don’t need them in Mexico,” said Mick. “The first time, which was not that long ago, scared the hell out of me. My friends were laughing saying that the electrical current hurts way more than they advertise. By the time I got in the booth I was freaking out. I thought it was going to be like
on the street in Cancún.”
Mick realized that he had brought up what could be a traumatic memory. Fearing that he had put his foot in his mouth, he sat silently and looked out over the water, hoping that the moment would pass.
“Mick, you think I’m fragile, don’t you?”
“No. I think you’re a mean bitch.”
Ally smiled and then playfully punched Mick in the arm. It was harder than Mick was expecting.
Department of Student Loans, Kidnap & Ransom Page 11
