Rendezvous With the Fat Man

by Gail Sherman Jones

  For Jan, the case worked perfectly. Before she left Ibiza, some of her friends fit the bag with a false bottom of Formica, laying the padding and vinyl cover on top. By flattening the cocaine flakes into a fine layer of powder and placing it underneath the Formica, the cocaine was simply and effectively hidden. Jan then stuffed the cosmetic case full of lipsticks, cold creams, perfumes, feminine hygiene products, and dainty, lacy underwear, preparing it for the next day’s flight.

  Her trip to South America had been extremely enjoyable. She had met some wonderful people, and most importantly, she had made her first big score against all possible odds. It had been a long, hard road, interlaced with more than a few breathless moments, but the experience was finally coming to its conclusion.

  The next day, Jan was ready to leave La Paz. She grabbed her luggage and camera equipment and took a quick view of herself in the mirror to verify her all-American look, practicing an innocent smile before she donned a pair of sunglasses. It was time for her to get into character for her drug smuggling role; improvising for the rest of the trip.

  Hours later, Jan was airborne and heading to Santa Cruz. The thoughts and memories of La Paz slowly began to fade as her plane winged its way eastward. Her layover in Santa Cruz was a short one; only an hour. She walked out of the airplane ramp into the airport lobby looking for the Fat Man. She spotted him and waved as he approached her.

  “Hola, Papi. I’m so glad you made it.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you would call me,” Papi replied.

  “I couldn’t pass through without seeing my new friend from Santa Cruz.”

  “I brought you 200 grams of cocaine,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I appreciate that, but I spent all my money in La Paz,” Jan said.

  Papi glanced around the busy lobby and walked her over to a private corner. He discreetly handed over an envelope which Jan slipped into her purse. “No problema. I insist you take it anyway if you promise to send me the money after you arrive home in Ibiza.”

  Jan was wide-eyed with amazement. “You trust me to do that? We just met and you don’t know me very well.”

  “We’re compadres now, right? I trust you, Chiquita. You have honest eyes.”

  “Of course I’ll pay you back. My word is my bond. Thank you so much,” she responded.

  Jan gave him a hug, but her hands couldn’t reach around his big belly. They bid farewell and Papi walked away. She stood for a moment reflecting on his generous business offer and what he had done for her. Jan knew then that this would not be her last visit to Santa Cruz.

  She headed to the lady’s restroom and entered one of the stalls. Jan always carried different sizes of plastic baggies in her purse for wrapping film, filters, and camera supplies as well as for packaging cocaine. She pulled three baggies out, as well as Papi’s package, filling each equally with coke. One of them she placed snugly into her underpants and one under each breast inside her bra. After buttoning up her shirt, the two top buttons were left unfastened to show off her new cleavage.

  Finally boarding her plane, Jan counted off the aisles to find her seat and stowed her Tourister cosmetic case above it. As she sat down, her nostrils were assaulted by an obvious funky body odor coming from the shady looking guy sitting next to her. He gave her a sly smile, but she feigned a grin, then turned away from him to breathe fresher air.

  She studied him from the corner of her eye, taking in all the nervous gestures he was making. Jan couldn’t believe that out of all the seats available on the plane, he was booked to sit next to her. The long ten hour flight to Spain was going to be intolerable since there were no other seat options. Out of curiosity, she decided to ask him some questions.

  “First time in Santa Cruz?” Jan inquired.

  “I fly here all the time.” He wiped his runny nose and snuffed. “How about you? First time?” he asked.

  Jan’s eyes widened a bit. “First time for what?”

  “Santa Cruz,” he replied.

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “What brings you to Bolivia?” He queried her again.

  “Research for a book. I’m writing about Latin American revolutions.”

  “I heard there was an uprising in La Paz yesterday and that it’s spreading to other cities,” he said.

  “That’s exactly why I’m leaving. I’d rather not be an observer as it’s happening,” Jan responded.

  She turned away and grabbed a blanket from the overhead shelf to cover her face and body, hoping to block the disgusting body odor. The shady guy turned back to the window with a shrug, a sniffle, and wiped his nose again. Luckily, Jan was able to avoid much interaction with him by sleeping most of the six thousand mile flight.

  After arriving at the Madrid Airport, the shady guy tagged along with her while they walked to the Customs counter. The male Customs agent noticed her immediately and couldn’t take his eyes off her new cleavage.

  By this time, the shady guy was sweating profusely. Jan stood behind him in line holding her breath to avoid the horrible smell that surrounded his body. The shady guy turned towards her, but she dissuaded his interest by motioning him ahead so the Customs agent wouldn’t think they were together. “I think you’re next,” she advised him.

  “Ladies first,” he responded.

  The customs agent wasn’t fooling around and waved at the shady guy to get his attention.

  “Siguente!” The customs agent demanded.

  Nervously, the shady guy stepped forward. Jan watched the exchange closely as the agent studied him, taking in all his nervous ticks and obviously aware of the body odor. The agent’s facial expression said it all and he stood back from the counter as far as he could without being totally rude.

  “Passport please.” The agent scrutinized the stamped pages. “You visited Bolivia?”

  “My aunt lives in Santa Cruz. Beautiful country.”

  The Customs agent methodically looked him up and down. “Did you bring anything back with you?”

  The shady guy laughed as he patted his tummy. “I gained a few pounds from her great food and wine, as well as some fond memories.”

  Again he snuffed and wiped his nose. Another agent rose from his chair, anticipating a bust. He called for another agent.

  “I’m going to need to search you,” the customs agent informed him.

  “What? Why? I’m not doing anything wrong,” the shady guy stammered.

  The other agents came forward to assist in the search. They pulled items out of his suitcase and rifled through its compartments. A tiny plastic bag of white powder was found in his shaving kit.

  “Policía. Cocaína,” the customs agent shouted.

  Nearby officers jumped into action as the guy began to fight off the agents. They overpowered him, dragging his body by the neck and arms to their Customs Office for questioning. The agent turned back to Jan who shuddered internally with panic and fear, struggling to maintain a smidgen of self-confidence.

  “Siguiente!” he requested of Jan.

  She gulped as she stepped forward. Again the agent’s eyes drifted towards her fuller cleavage. Jan leaned forward a bit to give him more of an eyeful. She made sure to speak in English with a big smile.

  “Afternoon,” Jan replied.

  “You visited Bolivia?”

  “Yes, I’m a writer and photographer. I was a guest of the Bolivian government working on a tourist advertising campaign.”

  Jan’s acting skills came forth with a fake, sexy smile, but the agent was unresponsive. He glanced back at the Tourister cosmetic case and opened it, pulling out some sexy lace panties, garter belts, stockings, bras, and a box of sanitary napkins. The customs agent was clearly embarrassed and quickly put them back. The suitcase was barely searched before he waved Jan through. To her relief, the personal feminine belongings strategy had worked, making the short walk through customs
anticlimactic. She had successfully completed her first drug smuggle.

  The stressful journey was now over. Jan was soon home in Ibiza, the delighted owner of 700 grams of cocaine and thousands of memories. Now she had to find the buyers. Little did she know where that would lead.

  Chapter 5 — Sold to the Highest Bidder

  Arriving home in Ibiza from her first successful trip to South America, Jan removed the baggies from inside her bra and the flattened baggies of coke from the bottom of the cosmetic case. She resealed the precious crystal in a large, airtight jar and capped it tightly. Cocaine exposed to the air tends to lose its potency and light can also break down the delicate chemical. She wrapped the jar in tin foil and buried it deep in her clothes closet, wondering what she would do with it next.

  Having a large amount of the drug in your possession does not necessarily insure your fortune until it’s all sold. It was easy enough to sell several grams through friends, earning enough money to cover the check she had written to Moises and the money she wired to Papi. After that, she was again left with her diminishing bank balance and some 650 grams of unsold cocaine.

  Jan quickly learned one of the most difficult lessons of the cocaine trade: dealing with the ups and downs of selling the product. On more than one occasion, she had fronted some coke to friends, who in turn, were supposed to sell it, return with Jan’s money and keep whatever profit they had made. More often than not, they concocted stories of being ripped off, or how they had lost the cocaine. Jan realized that she was the one who was being ‘ripped off’ and stopped fronting it.

  There was nothing she could do about the money already lost except learn from the experience. Slowly, Jan discovered that the risks involved in selling cocaine far outweighed the dangers of smuggling it. There was nothing glamorous or adventurous about selling drugs.

  While jogging on the beach one morning, Jan noticed two odd-looking men strolling in her direction. As they drew nearer, she observed the great dissimilarity between the two. Although they were both about the same height, one man was much older than the other; about fifty years of age as compared to twenty-five or so for the younger man.

  The elder of the pair was stocky, with greying temples and a wide smile, while his companion was thinner, almost emaciated, with medium length, straight black hair, and a pronounced limp. They were both wearing jeans on the beach, while most people wore shorts or bathing suits. The older man had something around his neck that gleamed in the sunlight. To Jan’s surprise, it was a gold coke spoon.

  She wondered if they would be interested in the product buried deep in her closet and decided to run in their direction flashing a big smile. “Hi, guys. Where are you from?”

  “My name is Billy from the Bronx,” he responded with a heavy Brooklyn accent.

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Ed from New York City. It’s great to see another American so far from home.”

  “Likewise. My name is Jan. I moved here from LA about a year ago. Are you here on vacation?”

  “Yes, it’s my first time here. I’m a psychiatrist and just needed some time away from my patients,” Ed responded.

  “A psychiatrist. I can see why you needed the vacation,” Jan said.

  Ed laughed while Jan moved a little closer to him. “Is that a spoon around your neck?”

  “It is indeed,” Ed replied.

  “And just what would you put in a spoon that small?” she inquired again.

  “What do you got, Jan? We’re looking for something to put in it.”

  “Well, I might be able to help you out. Why don’t you drop by my place around 5:00 this afternoon and I’ll see what I can arrange.” She took a pen and book of matches from her pocket, wrote down her address and phone number and handed the matches to Ed.

  “Great. See you then,” Billy answered in his heavy Bronx accent.

  “Adios, guys.”

  Jan continued her jog back down the beach. After arriving home, she anxiously prepared for their visit. This was her first big prospective sale to a client she did not know, therefore caution was extremely important. Just in case she was overly presumptuous that these New Yorkers were cokeheads, Jan chose a bottle of red wine to serve her invited guests. She wouldn’t bring out her prized “snow” until it was confirmed the guys were legitimate buyers. Several hours later, Ed and Billy knocked on the front door and Jan dashed over to open it.

  “Welcome. Mi casa es tu casa. My house is your house.”

  “Thank you for the invitation,” Ed replied.

  “We’re having a great time but it would be cooler to party with some coke,” Billy chimed in.

  Once Jan heard the magic word coke, her anxiety was immediately dismissed. “Have a seat here in the den and pour yourself a glass of wine. I’ll be right back.”

  Jan went into her bedroom, retrieved the Mason jar and returned to the living room. When she removed the tin foil, both men gushed with genuine surprise. Their eyes lit up at the large quantity of cocaine sitting in front of them.

  She opened the mason jar carefully and scooped out a small amount of the shiny white powder to put on a hand mirror. Ed chopped the substance to a fine powder with a razor blade. After drawing several lines, they all snorted with a rolled one-thousand peseta note.

  “Goddamn, that’s some good shit,” Billy raved.

  “You’ll have to forgive my uncouth friend. He has no manners,” Ed apologized.

  Then Ed snorted a line. “Goddamn,” Ed confirmed Billy’s approval.

  Jan laughed. “I have the finest blow in Ibiza. Ask anyone,” she boasted.

  Everyone was mellow and settled back on the couch. “Where’s it from?” Billy asked.

  “I just returned from Bolivia with my first coke smuggle.”

  Jan began telling them the story of her trip to South America as Ed examined the residue left on the mirror. “Has this coke been stepped on?”

  “Well, I did have to walk on it to get it flat enough to fit under the lining of my cosmetic case,” Jan replied.

  “No, you don’t understand,” Ed laughed. “Have any mixers been added to it to increase the weight? That’s called ‘stepped on.’”

  Jan blushed slightly. “No, it’s exactly the way I bought it.”

  Both men were impressed by the quality. It was rare to find uncut cocaine and they wanted to buy all of it. However, there was one condition to the deal; Ed wanted to meet her connection.

  “I had a patient from Arica, Chile who was my contact when I smuggled cocaine. But because of recent political events, Chile’s borders are now closed. I can’t ever return there.” Ed revealed.

  “I heard cocaine ‘kitchens’ are located there,” Jan replied.

  “Yes. And I’ve been looking for a new connection which YOU could provide,” Ed requested.

  Jan was silent to think for a few moments. The offer caught her off guard. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

  “Come on. Traveling is always more fun when you’re not doing it alone,” Billy said.

  Jan paused again to mull over their proposal. What was her gut telling her? Was this meeting on the beach a fortuitous encounter? She could unload her entire batch of coke without seeking more buyers. Who knew how long it would take to sell everything if she didn’t accept their offer? She could also make additional money as a referral fee for Papi’s services. It all began to feel so right. Her mind was made up.

  “I’ll do it, but I need $5,000 plus expenses paid in advance.”

  “What do you think Ed?” Billy asked.

  “Agreed,” Ed quickly responded. Jan passed around the mirror after making new lines and everyone snorted them to seal their business deal. The guys left in great spirits, delighted they had a new drug connection and a new partner

  Everything was happening so fast. Jan wondered if it was good karma that placed her and these two
New Yorkers on the same beach at the same time, each with their intertwining needs. It definitely made liquidating her first cocaine smuggle much easier than she had anticipated.

  This enterprise was a perfect fit for her talents, particularly her acting skills. Improvising her new secret life was empowering and she definitely made way more money doing it. Jan was elated and began preparations for her return trip to South America.

  Chapter 6 — Don’t Mess with the Fat Man

  or

  (If it’s Murder, This Must be Lima)

  A month after Jan agreed to return to Bolivia with the New York cokeheads, she received a phone call from Ed informing her that he was too busy for the next several weeks and wanted Billy to travel with her instead. Jan was not pleased with the news. She much preferred Ed’s outgoing personality. He was an older, more mature and an experienced drug smuggler.

  “Ed, traveling with Billy is different than we originally planned.”

  “I’ve gone to Peru many times with him and everything went well,” Ed assured her.

  “I like to travel very low profile. He’s not my ‘travel buddy’ type. His limp attracts attention and his Bronx ego could be a problem.”

  “I’ll throw in an extra $1,000 if that will convince you.”

  Jan pondered for a moment. Making extra money always won her over.

  “Outta sight. We’ve got a deal,” she replied.

  She was not overjoyed at the prospect of traveling with Billy, but agreed to meet him in Santa Cruz, Bolivia, fifteen days later.

  When Billy and Jan finally met in the lobby at the El Cortez Hotel, they checked in separately to deflect any connection between them. After watching him at the reception desk, Jan wished that she had reconsidered the whole thing. Besides being tall and thin with a large nose, Billy’s heavy Brooklyn accent and total ignorance of the Spanish language made him dead weight—someone who needed to be led around by the hand. He also displayed an air of unnecessary importance. Nevertheless, she committed herself to this trip and had to overlook the misgivings about her new travel companion.