CHAPTER V

YOU'RE RIGHT, I'M LEFT, IT'S GONE

I left Johnny Sincere's ride outside the hotel and told the porter to call him to have it picked up. I bundled the Colonel into a taxi and we headed for the airport.

“Can I at least stop and pick up my suitcase?”

“Sorry Colonel, this trip we travel light.”

As we made our way to the airport, the sights of Havana were lost on me. At least ten different scenarios of what I could expect to find, played out in my mind. And they were all bad.

As we entered the terminal, I scanned the scene. Anyone could be an informer holding our picture and just waiting to tip off the mob. I'd made sure we had arrived at the airport with the minimum amount of time needed to board. No use hanging around in the open waiting to get shot at.

Damn. I checked the departure list; our take off had been delayed for half an hour due to a tropical storm in Miami. Damn, this could be the downpour the that kills me,

We checked in. Now for Immigration. After that, just sit still, try to blend in and hope that...

...shit. Out of the corner of my eye I saw them. CIA. They had been at the Nacional, and now they were here. And you can bet that if WE wanted Colonel Tom back in the USA, then THEY had a reason for him not to reappear.

I didn't have any time to think of how to evade them, because at that same minute I saw two of Lansky's goons from the hotel and another guy entering the terminal. Yeah, the tip-off had got through.

I grabbed the Colonel and pulled him up from his seat.

“Come on fat man. We're heading into the eye of the storm.”

I dragged the Colonel and we dissected the path of both the CIA agents and the goons. The agents saw the mob and backed off. I figured they decided to let Lansky's goons do the dirty work for them. The big goon from the hotel put his arm out to stop me. The other two surrounded us like sharks.

“The boss won't like it that you found the old geezer and didn't call.”

“Well I was meaning to and lost his number.”

The big goon's faced dropped.

“Come on – this way.”

I couldn't afford to shoot it out and blow my cover. Damn, I'd blown it. What was I thinking trying to get the Colonel through without back-up?

No, I couldn't afford to shoot it out, but right there and then it was my only option. My finger had been on the trigger on the gun in my pocket the minute we had exited the taxi. Then without warning, a blonde. But not just any blonde.

“Jack Frost! What is it in our horoscopes that has us constantly running into each other at airports?”

It was Betty Bombshell. Beautiful Betty barreling in, oblivious to what was going on around her.

Before I knew it she was up in my face, driving a wedge between me and Lansky's guys.

“You're leaving and we never did get to walk together on the white sand.”

White Sand. You are fucking kidding me.

The big goon grabbed her arm. Big mistake.

“Look you two dollar hooker, I...”

BIG mistake.

I don't know which was more painful. Her glass shattering shriek that had every guard in the airport swarming to her aid, or the chemical mace she had gushed into the faces of all three goons. Definitely a dancer's move. Huh, and I had her pegged as a ballerina. What happened next, I have no idea. A good agent doesn't look back once he's been handed a lifeline.

I'll only ever admit to running away from anything just twice in my life, and this was one of those times. We fled the scene and quickly cleared immigration without a hitch. LBJ had come through, and I suddenly realized that this was the story of Colonel Tom's life; someone, somewhere had always come through for him.

As I sat in the plane, something nagged at me. The CIA had been watching me the whole time, but not once had they got in my way. Even at the airport. They could have flexed their muscle anytime. Something didn't add up. But then right at that moment, any doubts I had were about to be waylaid by the Rum and Coke heading my way.

White Sand. Betty may have just been Shelepin's party piece, but what a piece.

It was a nervy flight. Colonel Tom hadn't said a word, and although the respite from his constant bullshit was a relief, I knew he was thinking things through for when we touched down. Yeah, the oily old bugger wasn't going to do me any favors for getting him back home.

We touched down. I afforded myself a deep breath as I marched the Colonel across the tarmac. Yeah, it smelt like the US. I got him in site of the passport check.

“I gotta use the john.”

Perfect. And when he came out I was gone. One thing I knew how to do, was disappear.

- - -

CONCLUSION