Rendezvous With the Fat Man

by Gail Sherman Jones

  Her profitable earnings enabled her to flee to Ibiza, seeking the peace and solitude she desired, as well as a fledgling career as a freelance writer. Her eventual money woes, however, made her doubt that decision.

  Chapter 2 — Let’s Party

  Hoping to find a temporary respite from her depression, Jan accepted a party invitation from her girlfriend Carol who owned a small clothing boutique on the island. It had been months since Jan had visited with her after relocating to Ibiza and she anxiously prepared to attend the social gathering. Besides, it was time to change her monotonous daily routine and clear her head.

  Carol’s posh seaside villa was the typical Spanish tiled roof home with white washed walls. It was huge and a great place to have a party. There was a trellis over the front porch with a brilliant salmon colored bougainvillea cascading over the top. Around the front door were numerous terracotta clay pots of all sizes filled with an array of pink and purple blooming petunias.

  After a taxi dropped Jan off in front of the villa, she walked up the aggregate stone steps to the front door. She could see people through the open den window, dancing with joints and drinks in hand; whiffs of marijuana smoke drifting through the air around her. Laughter and conversations could be heard as she stood on the porch surveying the party scene.

  Jan rang the doorbell, but nobody answered. She knocked on the door and there was still no answer. Realizing that no one could hear anything except the loud music, she reached for the doorknob and started to turn it, when Carol finally opened the door.

  She was dressed in hip fashion to match the styles of her eclectic party guests, a crowd made up of expatriate writers, musicians, artists, and hippies. Carol wore bell bottom jeans, snake skin platform heels, low-cut crop top covered by a sheer, see-through blouse gathered in the front and tied at the waist to accentuate her small hips. Her earrings were Native American, six inch long sterling silver and coral pieces, stunning artwork dangling to below her shoulders; a topic of conversation on their own. Carol’s unique fashion style was cool bohemian chic and she definitely flaunted it that night.

  She smiled at Jan and studied her alluring, body hugging party dress. It was obvious Jan wasn’t wearing a bra. She didn’t need one. Her breasts were small, but firm and perky; her nipples clearly defined through the sheer dress fabric. She was sexy without even trying.

  “Jan, you look totally cool. I’d say after me, you’re the best dressed chick here tonight. But honestly, I didn’t think you’d make it. I thought you were too busy writing.”

  “There’s always time for a party. That’s what you keep telling me. I’m ready to let my hair hang down and boogie tonight,” Jan eagerly admitted.

  Suddenly, James Brown’s funk guitar riff played at full volume in the background. Jan couldn’t resist the groove and danced her way into the open front door.

  “Get down, Jan!” Carol responded.

  “I love soul music,” Jan gushed as she mingled with the crowd of partygoers.

  Now it was a party with no limits. Everyone who was seated or stood around immediately jumped onto the floor to form a Soul Train line to dance to the Godfather of Soul. The rhythm was infectious. Carol grabbed a tray piled high with marijuana brownies from the food table and handed one to Jan.

  “This will get you in the mood,” Carol promised.

  “The mood for what,” Jan asked.

  “The mood for anything,” Carol preached with a sly smile on her face.

  As Jan took the first bite of her decadent, weed-infused frosted brownie, a handsome, long-haired hippie pulled her into the dancing crowd. He was a well-tanned American artist, twenty-years older. His shirt was unbuttoned to mid-chest, which was covered with strands of turquoise necklaces, and he wore several gemstone rings on each hand. A well-worn, Spanish leather belt held up his faded jeans. After a few minutes of dancing, he decided to shed his sandals to dance barefoot.

  Jan demolished her brownie in two bites. It only took fifteen minutes for her to feel the euphoric effects of her chocolate treat, finally lifting her spirits and inhibitions. While dancing with her eyes closed to James Brown’s “Sex Machine,” she surrendered to the spellbound atmosphere of burning candles and pungent incense. The music seemed to play forever.

  Suddenly, Jan was startled out of her ‘mood high’ when Carol gently grabbed her arm and escorted her down the hallway to a quiet guest bedroom at the back of the house. It was a small space almost filled to capacity with a water bed covered with a psychedelic patterned, neon-colored bedspread, and piled with throw pillows. A tiny night stand was wedged between the wall and bed, cluttered with an oversized ash tray full of marijuana roaches and cigarette butts, match books, an array of roach clips, and a huge bong.

  They fell together onto the water bed, laughing hilariously as they sloshed around from side to side by the movement of the water. Carol grabbed a huge joint and lighter from a wooden box on a shelf above her, lit up, and passed it to Jan.

  “Damn. Now that’s what I call a super doobie,” Jan exclaimed in amazement.

  They passed the joint between them and the room quickly filled with smoke. Jan inhaled deep and held the ‘hit’ as long as she could, then exhaled a long plume of smoke.

  “I told you I always have the best stuff in Ibiza,” Carol bragged.

  “It’s outta sight. Maybe I should give up writing and just start selling weed for a living,” Jan confessed.

  “Have you finished writing your novel yet? I thought you’d be published by now and raking in the big bucks,” Carol asked.

  “Yeah, me too. It was a lot easier when I wrote for a magazine. Unfortunately, I’m suffering from writer’s block because of my financial situation. It’s such a distraction knowing that my hard-earned savings are almost gone.”

  “That bad, huh? It’s definitely expensive to live here,” Carol replied.

  “If I don’t finish this book real soon, I’ll have to move back to LA with my tail between my legs,” Jan lamented.

  They both made a funny face. Jan took another long hit as Carol watched her thoughtfully.

  “If you’re serious about selling, I know how you can make bigger money.”

  Jan curiously replied, “Really. What could that be?”

  “I’ve heard that a kilo of cocaine in South America costs only $3,000 and it’s worth $30,000 here. That’s a lot of bang for your buck. On my worst days at the boutique, I’ve thought about going there and bringing some back. Would you be interested in coming along?” Carol asked.

  Jan responded to her shocking proposition. “You can’t be serious?”

  “I’ve just thought about it, that’s all.”

  “Making $30,000. That’s a lot of dinero. But I don’t know anything about cocaine. I don’t even know what it looks like or how you take it. And I definitely don’t know anybody who uses it.”

  “You see all those people out there dancing. That’s who you sell it to. Talk to them. They know all you need to know. If you don’t want to return to ‘Hollyweird,’ then think about it.”

  Jan nodded as Carol handed her the joint.

  “It isn’t complicated. People do it all the time. Look at you and me. We’re cute American chicks. Like anyone’s going to suspect us,” Carol bragged.

  For once, Jan was silent, mulling over Carol’s offer.

  “Don’t worry,” Carol reassured her. “If you split the costs with me, maybe around $2,000 each, I’ll take care of everything.”

  Even split two ways, it would give a tremendous boost to Jan’s sagging bank balance, not to mention her sagging spirits. Those matters would take care of themselves once she had the goods in her possession. And Carol, who obviously knew much more about the subject than she did, would surely act as her guide.

  After thinking a few moments about everything Carol said, she eagerly responded. “I think I can scrape that much m
oney together. Count me in.” They high fived and then rejoined the party crowd.

  Tentative plans were made that night to travel to South America three months later to score a kilo of cocaine and return to make their fortunes. Once the seed had been planted in Jan’s mind, the prospect of easy money grew and then blossomed into an all-consuming passion. The following months were busy for her. She did everything possible to raise money for the trip by liquidating most of her assets and borrowing against incoming TV commercial residual checks. Jan was psyched for a new adventure. Of course she knew the dangers, but that had never stopped her before. In Jan’s mind, the hand of fate was guiding her.

  By March 1973, she had raised $3,000 and was ready for the trip. Several months had passed since Jan had touched base with Carol, so she decided to surprise her at the boutique about successfully raising the funds needed to travel somewhere in South America. When she entered the shop, Carol was tending to a customer. She immediately spotted Jan and excused herself for a moment to talk to her.

  “How’s it goin’? I didn’t expect to see you today. Finish your novel?”

  Jan shook her head. Carole pulled her to a quiet corner to chat.

  “I’ve got the money,” Jan boasted.

  “What money?”

  “Our trip to South America, remember?”

  Carole looked around before standing a little closer. “You didn’t take all that shit seriously, did you? We were high, for fuck’s sake. It’s not like I ever thought we’d actually go through with it.”

  Carol quickly destroyed Jan’s enthusiasm.

  “Yeah, well I thought about it. I wanna make a lot of quick money to pay off my bills and maybe have enough left over to support myself for a while to do more traveling.”

  “You’re crazy, Jan.”

  “It was your idea, Carol.”

  Another customer walked into the boutique, announced by the jangling bell.

  “I’ll be right with you,” Carol told the new customer. “Jan, I have a business. I can’t just pick up and leave. There’s nobody to work in my boutique while I’m gone.”

  “What the hell! I’ve been running around for months getting everything together. Why didn’t you let me know sooner?”

  “I’m really sorry Jan. But I just can’t make it.”

  “Well, I guess that means I’m going alone. Can you at least give me your contacts in South America to help me out?”

  Carol paused for a moment accompanied by a blank look. “I don’t have any contacts,” she admitted.

  “You’re kidding me, right? What the fuck!!! You don’t have any contacts? I thought you knew what you were doing,” Jan angrily replied.

  “None, none at all,” Carol confessed.

  “Oh my God. I can’t believe this.”

  “I talk shit. That’s what we both do and why we get along so well.”

  “So you never really intended on going. That totally sucks!”

  “I’d go in a heartbeat if I could. It just sounded so easy from the stories I’ve heard. I thought, I don’t know, that we’d just wing it.” Jan fumed as she listened.

  “Look, you have the money. Just go home to LA. At least you know what you’re doing there,” Carol advised.

  Jan paused with a long silence. “My mind’s made up. I’m not going back to LA. I’m going to South America and follow through with our plan, unfortunately, by myself.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You can’t go alone. That’s insane. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Carol pleaded.

  “No. But I know what I’m getting myself out of, and that’s a start. I’ll figure it out. Wish me luck.”

  “But, Jan…” Before Carol had a chance to finish her sentence, Jan turned around and left the boutique.

  She suspected Carol had lost interest in going and was disappointed until she realized that Carol knew as little about smuggling cocaine as she did. So, other than the fact that she would have to go it alone, she was no worse off without her.

  Jan had never doubted she would make the journey, despite the fact that she had no idea where she would go in South America to find cocaine and the fact that she had never been to South America. She had made all the necessary preparations and was determined to take the chance, knowing that she was blindly marching into the unknown.

  After making arrangements for a house sitter to care for her pets while she was away, Jan packed up, stuffed all her cash into her purse and made her way to tiny Ibiza airport to fly to Madrid. She wanted to visit and consult with her hairdresser friend, Enrique, before deciding her final destination.

  Upon arrival, Jan took a taxi to Enrique’s apartment building and struggled up the stairs carrying her heavy suitcases until she reached his third floor flat. As soon as she knocked on the door, he immediately opened it. Enrique was so excited to see her; gushing in his flamboyant, over the top personality. They kissed each other on the cheeks and he grabbed her suitcases, directing her inside. Sitting around the kitchen table were two of his friends visiting from Argentina, snacking on cheese, fresh baked bread, and red wine.

  “Jan, these are my friends Sergio and Pablo.”

  “Mucho gusto. It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Jan replied.

  “Encantado. The pleasure is ours. Please have a seat and join us,” Sergio responded.

  Jan sat at the table and Enrique poured her a glass of wine.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. But you never mentioned on the phone where you’re going,” Enrique inquired.

  Figuring it was a good omen meeting his friends from Argentina hours before her departure, Jan cautiously shared her travel plans.

  “I still haven’t decided exactly which country I’m going to in South America,” Jan admitted.

  “What’s going on in South America?” Enrique asked.

  “I’ve decided to smuggle cocaine and bring it back to Ibiza to sell.”

  As might be expected, he had a disparaging attitude. “Excuse me. Smuggle cocaine?”

  “My friend Carol turned me on to the idea of making big profits with a small investment.”

  “I can’t believe you’re going through with this trip,” Enrique responded.

  His Argentinian friend Jorge interjected, “Well, if you’re determined to do this, go to Asunción, Paraguay. You can meet young wealthy guys in the discotheques. They all use cocaine.”

  “Bingo! That’s it. Find the buyer and the supplier can’t be far behind. I’m leaving for Asunción tomorrow,” Jan responded as if she just had an epiphany.

  “I knew you were loca, Jan, but really? Traveling alone in a foreign country? It’s so dangerous for a female, especially a beautiful señorita like you who doesn’t speak much Spanish. Please don’t go. Stay here in Madrid and I can help you find work,” Enrique implored.

  “You’re a great friend and I appreciate all your help. But my mind is made up. I’ll stay in touch so you know where I am and how to contact me.”

  Everyone raised their wine glasses together to toast and wish Jan a safe trip. Her plan to grab any convenient charter flight to South America was now replaced with a flight to Asunción.

  In high spirits, Jan made her way to the airport the next day. As she entered the terminal and looked around for a minute, she seriously considered calling the whole thing off. But that thought was quickly dismissed after she recalled how much time had been spent preparing for this moment. Jan had visualized winning the cocaine lottery jackpot for months and her confidence level was off the charts. She bet on herself and was ready to go, trusting her gut feelings.

  After checking with the airlines, she discovered there were no cheap charter flights available to Asunción. Therefore, her only choice was to grudgingly pay the steep cost of $1,100 of her original $3,000 for a round trip ticket to fly there. No turning back now.

  Ja
n boarded the plane, took a seat, and buckled up. As the plane taxied down the runway, she looked out the window with a huge, self-assured smile on her face. She was finally on her way to Paraguay.

  ‘Some opportunities come along once in a lifetime and I’m ready to seize them. Not just to write about, but live them. And God forbid if I’m arrested, I’ll use my prison time to write one hell of a blockbuster about a California chick busted for smuggling cocaine. This trip is going to be easy’.

  Or so she thought.

  Chapter 3 — First Rendezvous with the Fat Man

  Doubt slammed through Jan after landing in Asunción, Paraguay. There was nothing there! It was a dirty, poverty-stricken place unlike anything she had ever seen before. It certainly didn’t seem like the kind of environment where she could meet wealthy young Paraguayans flush with money to blow on cocaine.

  During the taxi ride into the city, doubt turned to dread as she looked out the window. It was very disconcerting. Jan knew very little about the country, but she did know it was uncommon not see any people, anywhere – not on the roads, not in the town plaza, not working in the fields.

  “Why is it so deserted?” she asked the driver.

  “It’s the beginning of our holiday celebrating independence from Spain. Everything is closed for four days.”

  “Everything?”

  “Sí, señorita, everything.”

  Jan’s confidence began to wane as she realized that shops, banks, and worst of all, the discotheques were closed. As they approached the center of the city, the sights and sounds of Asunción flashed by her. She began to see a few people on the street. They were poor, half-naked Indians and, as she would learn later, the largest portion of the city’s inhabitants.

  This was a port city, located on the banks of the Paraguay River and floating in this river was Paraguay’s one and only battleship. In honor of Independence Day, the aging hulk shuddered and shook as it fired its rusty canons as Jan’s taxi drove by.