by Ernest Olson
Chapter 14
The road of life is dotted with many tempting parking places.
I peered out into the street. As I looked down the bustling street, I reflected on Kinky Friedman. In his books he often uses the terms MIT and MIB. MIT stands for “man in trouble.” MIB stands for “men in black.” I was the MIT looking for the MIBs. Trouble was, I didn’t have the foggiest idea who the MIBs were. They could have been watching me at that very moment. There was no way I would know. However, my guess was that the lioness had lost any tail before she had come to my hotel. Why would she go to the effort of getting me an airline ticket if she knew that the MIBs would nab me. With this in mind, I ventured less than boldly into the street.
European streets always seem festive to me. Their city centers have the charm of an American farmer’s market and street fair all in one. As I walked down the street I peered into shops at the glass covered people doing their business transactions. I slipped by the street vendors selling flowers and baskets, and I tried to avoid gazing at people who were having too good of time. It was a beautiful morning in Vienna. It was good to be alive. As I moved further from the little cafe, I felt increasingly confident that I was going to be okay.
As I walked, I pondered my resources. I was carrying $5000 in cash, had an open ticket on Delta Airlines, and I had my passport. I also had my billfold containing a few dollars, credit cards, business cards and my driver’s license. And, I had other resources, I had my Israeli friends and I had Wendell Finch. Wendell had been a career intelligence officer. Even though, he had gone on for a Ph.D., and was now teaching in my department, common thought was that he remained connected to the intelligence community. He was a friend, and I knew how to reach him. Before, I made any decision I would call Wendell and get his advice. Unfortunately, I didn’t have his home phone, and he wouldn’t be at the office until much later. When I told him goodbye, just before heading for Vienna, his exact words had been: “You are going to have a lot more fun than me; I’m going to be at the office everyday until I finish writing this damn book!” I was pretty certain I would find him in the office, but morning in California was still hours away. I would check in with the Israelis. I couldn’t see any value in going to the hotel. If the MIBs were looking for me they would probably have the hotel under surveillance. I rang up the hotel and asked for Hillel
“It’s, CB, I need to talk with you,” I said with amazing calm.
“Yes, my friend, it is good to hear from you. We were worried.”
I briefly related to him what had occurred, and then got to the basic purpose of my call. “What do you think I should do?”
He spoke quickly with authority, “You did well in not coming to the hotel. If someone is looking for you, it is certain this place is being watched. Take your girlfriend’s advice and leave. Be advised, though, depending upon your value to the watchers and their connections, you won’t likely make it through the airport. Take the train to Rotterdam, the ferry to England, and fly out of Heathrow. Still, no guarantees on getting out, depending upon who is chasing you. You could benefit from a fake passport....”
I interrupted, “Hold it. This is all sounding too much like a James Bond movie.”
“It’s no movie my friend. Take my word for it, don’t leave from the Vienna airport. Given a little time, I can get you a new passport, but it will cost you about $200 in U.S. dollars....”
I was getting tired, too much intrigue isn’t good for body or the soul. I’m usually an optimist, but I was quickly becoming a pessimist. Kathy would like that. I remember her once saying, “If you weren’t so gawd damn optimistic, I would never know how unhappy I am.”
“Thanks, but I’ll take my chances...I haven’t broken any laws, I shouldn’t have anything to fear,” I said with some degree of false bravado.
“Good luck, my friend....”
I passed the next four hours wandering the streets of Vienna. Hell, I was on vacation and I wasn’t going to let a little thing like a life threatening misadventure disrupt it entirely. But, needless to say, no matter how amazing the architecture or beautiful the art, I was a man walking under a dark cloud. As I picked up the pay phone to dial “Commander Finch,” I heard myself humming a song I had written almost 20 years earlier when I thought I was going to be Glen Campbell:
Driving down life’s highway
There are lots of parking spaces,
And there are lots of people parkin’ there
Whose dreams have lost all traces.
Some say it’s better to park and wait
It’s safer I’m sure that’s true
But you never get to see a change
You just sit...that’s all you do.
I never finished that song, just like the book I never finished. If it can be said that I have accomplished anything in life, then it must be said that I have become an accomplished procrastinator. However, I’m not ready to make such a statement.
He picked up on the fourth ring, “Wendell Finch, how may I serve you?”
“Wendell, it’s CB...”
“Hey, you back already....”
“No, no, just listen. I’m in Vienna, and I think you can help me.”
“I live to render service...what’s up?”
I briefed him on my situation.
“Well, this is something I don’t know much about, spies and espionage are not my forte. Ask me something about the history of biological advancements in 16th Century Europe and I can wax brilliant. But, it sounds to me like your lady friend is in cahoots with the Chinese Triads, the CIA or both. The little Armadillo pin has CIA written all over it, but my instincts suggest she’s more likely involved with some aspect of organized crime. There are about 12 major Triads right now, and they are all very active. Up until the past few months, the Triads have limited their activities to money laundering, smuggling, prostitution, gambling and drugs. But, a guy named Xiao Dai has recently ascended to power in the biggest of the Triads, and it seems he’s not content with the old order of business. Word is that he wants to control the entire Chinese government, and he intends to do it through information brokering.”
I interrupted, “Give me the short form, I don’t have time for a lecture....”
“We are living in the information era. Knowledge is power. Xiao Dai is building his empire on cutting-edge technology. China’s economy is growing and will continue to grow in proportion to its ability to keep pace with the technology of the West. The only problem is that the West is kinda selfish with its developments. So, that’s where Xiao Dai comes in. He gets that information, and every time he gives the Party a new technology, they give something up to him...a province for example.”
“So this guy Dai is something of a super-spy, is that what you are saying.”
“That’s what I am saying.”
The idea that Lisa Marie Chin was a spy didn’t surprise me, but she seemed far too kind to be part of Chinese organized crime. But, unlike most criminals, Triad soldiers followed a code that included some degree of honor and integrity. As much as I found the idea of Lisa Marie being a criminal offensive, I realized that it was just as likely as any other scenario--probably more than most.
“What do you recommend?” I leaned into the phone, more out of frustration than fatigue.
“Mount up old friend, it’s always harder to hit a moving target. Come home.”
It seemed like the thing to do. Home suddenly became my favorite word, but there were two major obstacles standing between home and me. One was about 6 feet tall and built like a fullback, the other was about my size, but about 20 years younger and probably 100 times meaner. They both wore black suits. The big one gently took the phone from my hand and carefully placed it in its cradle.
