Rendezvous With the Fat Man

by Gail Sherman Jones

  “And I feel responsible as well. Unfortunately, there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

  “Thank you for telling me what happened. I know you did everything you could to help him and I don’t blame you,” Ed responded.

  “Believe me. I’m truly sorry for what happened to Billy. He’ll be in our hearts forever.”

  “Please stay in touch. Good-bye,” Ed replied. Jan hung up, relieved that the call was over.

  Billy’s murder made her reconsider if she ever wanted to journey down the dangerous cocaine trail again. If she did, she learned another lesson from the trip. Stick with Papi, the Fat Man. She had trusted him from the beginning and he had never failed her.

  One thing was certain; the date December 17, 1973, was etched in Jan’s memory forever as a one of the darkest days of her life.

  Chapter 7 — Choose Your Mule Well

  In March 1978, Jan jumped back into the sizzling frying pan by moving back to Los Angeles. All the problems she fled had gotten worse, exacerbated by the growth in population. The freeway traffic gridlock had increased smog pollution and the crime rate had risen as well.

  Before returning to Southern California, she had completed a few more smuggles. Even after the tragic fiasco with Billy in Lima, Jan was seduced by the need for a continuous flow of money into her bank account. She had achieved her goal of traveling to Africa, the Middle East, and several countries in Europe by spending almost all the huge profits from the cocaine deals, therefore she was considering another last trip to replenish her funds.

  Jan attempted to lay low for a while and put smuggling on the back burner while trying to earn a legitimate income. She set up a sophisticated color photo lab in her home, printing large quantities of Cibachrome prints which she signed, titled, and numbered for sale to travel magazines and newspapers. Unfortunately, Jan never made enough money to support the lifestyle to which she was accustomed. Her bank account was lower than it had ever been in a long time and she stressed about it.

  Although she didn’t relish the idea of another trip to South America and resuming a double life, she felt she had no other options. The lure of making huge amounts of cash from cocaine was so tempting and hard to resist, that it was beckoning her back into its shady world. She was always reluctant to return to South America, still haunted by the scary and horrid lingering memories of Billy’s death in Lima. But she managed to put her fears aside and began planning for the next smuggle.

  Sitting at her dining table while sipping a glass of wine, Jan read a post card from her parents who had relocated to Hawaii from the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. The message on the card read, “If you ever get tired of the fast lane, come visit us in Honolulu.”

  She then retrieved a telegram from Papi which stated in all capital letters signaling urgency, ‘JUST NOW I RECEIVED YOUR LETTER COME QUICKLY ALL OK FOR TOURISTS LOVE PAPI PITTY.’ It was fortuitous timing hearing back from the Fat Man since he had been on her mind for a while after writing him a month before. He was definitely the one who could solve her financial woes.

  Jan decided to call her childhood friend Karen, now a college student in Hawaii who was always broke, for consideration as a possible mule. She wasn’t the ideal choice for such a clandestine endeavor. Karen was in her late twenties, five-one, with a zaftig figure, very buxom, brown hair cut shag style, and a gregarious, flirty personality; definitely not a low profile physical appearance and demeanor, which Jan strictly required.

  However, Jan needed a travel companion, preferring to go with someone she already knew. Karen was one of the few people she had confided in about her secret life activities and frankly, couldn’t think of anyone else to ask. Jan decided to evaluate her worthiness and reliability. By asking pertinent questions over the phone, she would determine if Karen deserved the opportunity to accompany her; though now it would strictly be a business relationship.

  “Hey, Karen, it’s Jan. How ya doin’?”

  “Just finished my exams. How’s it goin’ with you?” Karen responded.

  “Could be better. I’m short of bucks right now so I’m thinking about doing another score in Bolivia.”

  “When was the last time you were down there?” Karen inquired.

  “It’s been a couple of years. I’ve kept in touch with my contact Papi and he’s still in the business.”

  “If you’re gonna go, take me with you. I’ve been looking for a part-time job and still haven’t found anything,” Karen said.

  “I don’t know, Karen. It’s dangerous work. If you did go, you’d be the mule, carrying the cocaine through customs. It isn’t a Roman holiday vacation,” Jan warned her.

  “Sounds exciting,” Karen gushed.

  “Not really. If you get caught, you go to jail. We’re talkin’ deplorable living conditions; rats and cockroaches, gang rapes, physical assaults, gross food, and most importantly, your freedom.”

  “I won’t get caught,” Karen implored.

  “Oh really? There’s no guarantee for that. You have to keep a super low profile. No dressing sexy with your boobs hanging out. And, you flirt too much with every guy you make eye contact with.”

  “No I don’t. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior and dress like a nun. Whatever you want, you can count on me,” Karen promised.

  “I’m really skeptical, but if you swear you’ll listen to me and not fuck up, I’ll let you go.”

  Karen screamed into the phone, overjoyed. “Hurray! When do we go?”

  “We’ll be leaving in a month. That’ll be plenty of time to work out all the details. You get $3,000 after the trip when all the coke is sold. As soon as I plan the itinerary, we’ll get together and go over everything. This is like a secret military operation. No bullshit allowed!”

  “Thank you soooooo much for letting me go. And my bank account thanks you as well. You won’t regret your decision,” Karen promised.

  “I hope not,” Jan responded.

  She hung up the phone and mulled over her decision to let Karen be her mule despite her detrimental personality quirks. Jan knew she was taking a gamble with Karen, who attracted men like bees to sunflowers. She also was a firm believer in the advantages of keeping a low profile and Karen was a high profile person. But with her promise to follow Jan’s rules, she would take a chance and overlook her flaws, hoping not to re-evaluate that decision later.

  Karen flew to LA and met at Jan’s house to go over details for the trip. The first order of business was explaining the passport switch. Jan pulled out her passport from a desk drawer, thumbed through the pages and reviewed all the immigration stamps from the cities she had visited around the world.

  “We don’t want our passports to have Bolivian stamps on them,” Jan explained.

  “Why?”

  “Because American Customs agents suspect everyone coming back from there are smugglers. That’s why we’re applying for replacement passports.”

  “Got it!”

  “We’re breaking the trip into two parts. Buenos Aires, Argentina is our midpoint. We’ll get round-trip tickets to Buenos Aires in the U.S. and use the replacement passports for the Argentine entry and exit stamps.”

  “Okay,” Karen confirmed.

  “We’ll purchase tickets in Argentina for the connecting flight to Santa Cruz, Bolivia. Our duplicate passports will show that our flight originated in the United States. Once aboard the plane, we’ll switch out our passports, using the originals for the Bolivian stamps.”

  “Cool. Pretty slick,” Karen responded.

  “By the time we return to the States, we’ll be using the second part of our original roundtrip ticket and passports. They’ll only have Argentine stamps on them.”

  “Then there will be no indication that we went to Bolivia at all. Smart thinking, Jan”, Karen said.

  “We’ll either mail back our extra passports or destroy them befor
e we leave for home,” Jan added.

  “Wow. You’ve thought of everything. I feel totally safe on this trip. So, I guess we need to apply for new passports for the ones that got lost. Right?” Karen joked. They laughed together.

  The trip to Buenos Aires began without a hitch. But it soon became obvious to Jan while on a layover at the airport that things were not going to be very enjoyable. Karen had a very giddy and childish demeanor at times and continuously smiled at strange men as she walked by them. They in turn would stop and stare after her. This behavior really bothered Jan and she often berated Karen about it. She insisted that Karen not be so friendly, nor make eye contact with so many people and concentrate more on getting the job done than attracting men.

  Karen was impervious to these comments, blithely batting her eyes and denying that she was doing any such thing. While waiting in the airport for their connecting flight to Bolivia, Jan was having serious second thoughts about Karen. Unfortunately, it was too late to pull the plug and end the smuggle.

  Jan decided to use one of her crafty diversions to kill time: picking out someone who was going to the same destination and striking up a conversation with them. This provided an established cover story with an uninvolved party, someone who could be called as a corroborating witness if she were ever questioned by authorities about her business in a lonely place like Santa Cruz.

  They happened to encounter a pair of gentlemen on their way to Santa Cruz who were carrying a bottle of whiskey they had just purchased. Jan convinced them to open and share it during the four hours that their flight was delayed. By the time they boarded the plane, everyone was pretty buzzed.

  The eventual flight into Bolivia passed quickly, and upon landing, the four travelers shared a taxi to the Holiday Inn. Jan made sure she explained to them on the way to the hotel that she was a travel writer, mentoring Karen on the job.

  After arriving at the hotel, Jan called the Fat Man from a public telephone in the lobby. “I’m back, Papi. I can’t believe it’s been a couple years since I last saw you.”

  “Time flies. Did you get my letters?” he asked.

  “Yes, and I’m glad you stayed in touch. I normally write you before a trip to confirm, but I didn’t have time to wait for your answer. If you don’t have any stuff available, I understand.”

  “Unfortunately, none. But if you want to come with me into the jungle, you can watch and learn the entire process from beginning to end how cocaine is made. Maybe take some pictures. Or, you could wait a week in Santa Cruz.”

  “You know me, Papi, I don’t like to wait for anything. Do you mind if I bring a friend?”

  “Not another Billy?” he asked.

  “Hell no! It’s a girlfriend of mine, Karen.”

  “Está bien. That’s okay. I’ll send my driver to pick you up at 8:00 AM.”

  “Look forward to it. See you tomorrow. Adíos,” Jan responded.

  She hung up the phone and watched Karen in the lobby, flipping through magazines and looking bored, wondering what it was going to be like with her in the jungle. Jan was looking forward to getting her out of Santa Cruz, where she would otherwise be attracting a lot of unwanted attention.

  After checking into their room, Jan explained to Karen about the excursion into the mountainous region outside of Santa Cruz. “You better dress appropriately. No low cut tops or short shorts. You’ve attracted way too many stares since we’ve been here. I’ve got enough problems worrying about getting this job done, than to stress about your wardrobe and behavior.”

  “I can’t help it if guys look at me,” Karen whined.

  “That’s because you smile at every one of them. That fuckin’ annoys me, to be frank and honest. You promised me you were going to tone down your look. Remember? I swear if you bat your goddamned eyelashes at another man, I’ll kick you in the ass in front of everybody.”

  “You’re just imagining things. I’m just being me. That’s who I am. I love to smile and be friendly. It never bothered you before.”

  “Now I’m really having second thoughts about letting you come with me,” Jan warned her.

  “Okay. Okay. I promise to follow your instructions and be a good girl. I’m just so excited we’re going into a real jungle. How cool is that!” Karen said.

  “Don’t change the subject. I’m serious about your conduct.”

  “You’re the boss,” Karen acquiesced.

  “That’s what I wanted to hear,” Jan smugly replied.

  The next morning, Karen walked out of the bathroom wearing jeans and a sleeveless shirt opened down to the third button, giving her ample cleavage room to breathe. Jan walked over to her and buttoned up two of them, then gave Karen another visual inspection, the first of many to follow.

  They packed a small suitcase with casual clothes, hoping everything would be appropriate for the harsh environment they would be working in. After exiting the hotel, they stood in front waiting for the Fat Man’s driver to pick them up. There were also other hotel guests waiting for their tour bus.

  “Our tour bus is a half hour late. Are you waiting for it as well?” a guest asked them.

  “No, we’re waiting for a driver to take us to the Mennonite settlement in Calecoto,” Jan improvised.

  “Who are the Mennonites?” he inquired.

  “They’re a fundamentalist Christian group with a settlement here,” Jan responded.

  Finally, the Fat Man’s driver pulled up in a Jeep which had lots of storage space and swinging double doors in the rear. He rolled down the window to speak. “Are you Jan?”

  “Yes, and this is my friend Karen.”

  “Buenos días. My name is Roberto. We’re going to meet Papi outside of town.”

  “Hi, Roberto. Sorry I don’t speak Spanish,” Karen chimed in.

  “No problema. My English is so so.”

  Karen sat up front with Roberto while Jan spread her camera equipment on the back seat preparing to take photos along the way. They drove out of Santa Cruz into the countryside where they would pick up Papi, his workers, and the supplies they needed for the week.

  There were only four well-traveled roads that led out of Santa Cruz and they pointed to the north, south, east, and west. A short distance in any of these directions and you were in the Bolivian jungle. However, ‘jungle’ in Bolivia was not what might be expected; it was not a dense tropical rain forest, but it was very lush. There were thousands of trees with clinging moss, tangled vines, and bright green meadows with large, brackish ponds; perfect breeding grounds for the billions of mosquitos that ruled the jungle environs. Animal sounds were everywhere.

  Roberto seemed enamored with Karen’s vivacious personality as she attempted to communicate with him in Spanish. However, Jan was totally annoyed and fuming while watching Karen flirt. Rather than reprimanding her at that moment, she decided to wait until they were alone together.

  Finally the Jeep stopped in front of a ramshackle house. Roberto got out, grabbed a box from the back and caught a glimpse of Karen winking and smiling at him before he walked to the front door. That was the last straw for Jan.

  “Don’t make me kick your ass right here and right now in front of everyone,” she blurted out.

  “What?” Karen answered.

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  Karen dug into her purse, pulling out a lipstick and mirror to freshen her makeup. Jan rolled her eyes in disgust. Papi stepped out of the house and waved to them, yelling, “Hola, Jan. I’ll be right out with the supplies for our trip.”

  A few moments later, the Fat Man and two of his workers exited the house carrying boxes of food, water, and other supplies, loading them into the Jeep. He followed the rule that it was better to take along too many supplies than not enough. They all managed to squeeze inside the overloaded vehicle, now bulging at the seams.

  Papi smiled as he looked a
t Jan. “You still look the same.”

  “You, too. I’m so glad we reconnected,” she responded.

  “I knew you would return again. Is this your friend Karen?”

  “Hi, Papi. It’s so nice to meet you,” she replied.

  “You’ll both learn a lot on the trip. This is one of my safehouses in the countryside where I store chemical supplies and mixing buckets to make cocaine. I give food and money to the people who help me as payment for their services.”

  As they drove further outside Santa Cruz, Papi stopped at several other safehouses and left food and supplies with each family, assuring their silence from implicating him as their benefactor. Jan was quite surprised and impressed to see the network of people he employed.

  The route driven was rough with potholes, but the scenery was beautiful, passing through the Bolivian wilderness until the approaching night. The trip to the jungle site where Papi made cocaine took six and a half hours. During that time, Jan took scores of photos of the countryside. They passed acres of cotton fields with hundreds of workers laboring in the sun and many tribes of wandering, nomadic Indians who foraged for wild boar and armadillos. Most of the time, they drove through the chaco, which was a heavily wooded forest that covered most of the landscape to the east of the Andes Mountains.

  Heading further eastward toward Brazil, the wilderness became thicker and denser, with an occasional mud shack or cultivated field giving way to a lush overgrowth of thousands of trees as far as the eye could see. Several hours away from Santa Cruz, the Jeep turned off the main road onto a dirt path that led deeper into the chaco. As they continued on it for several more hours, or one of the dirt path’s branches, they became progressively narrower.

  At about 8:00 PM, the Jeep finally arrived at their destination; a campsite that had served as a hunter’s cleaning pit for many years. From above, it was indistinguishable from any of the surrounding countryside, being as heavily wooded as the rest. But within it, most of the undergrowth had been cleared and a fire pit was made, surrounded by an animal graveyard piled with dried, bleached, and reeking animal bones.