– Sorry.
– No sweat.
He reaches into his breast pocket, whips out a bone and sparks it. He tokes and holds it up for me.
– Bro?
– Thanks.
I take the joint and rip off a lungful. It burns like shit and, as I pass the number back, I start hacking. Mario takes the joint and hands me a bottle of water. I take a couple swallows between coughs.
– Thanks.
– No sweat. Take another?
He offers the joint again. I pass. The one hit is mellowing me out, mellowing me and helping me not to think too much.
The cops are in evidence at the airport.Heavily. Mario drives us to thedropoff curb for American departures. He hops out, opens my door and fetches my bag from the trunk. I put the bag on the ground and kneel next to it. I open it about six inches, reach in,pull out three packs of hundreds and wave Mario down to my level. I give him the cash.
– One for you. Give two to Tim and tell him one is for Billy. OK?
– Very.
– You know who I am?
– Undoubtedly.
– Stay cool, Mario.
– Very.
He takes the cash and gives me skin. I let a skycap carry my bag to the counter and tip him twenty.
– Aisle or window?
– Aisle, please. And if you can get me next to an empty seat, that would be great.
– No problem.
My reservation is all in order. I pass the ticket girl John Carlyle’s Visa card and passport. She looks from me to the picture, twice,then slides it back. Her eyes flick to my face a few times as she does the paperwork.
– Got rear-ended.
– Oh, my God. Was anybody hurt?
– Not badly.Just me.
I have a thought.
– Uh, is there any room in first class?
– Sure.
– Would you mind, I think I need the, uh, I’d like to upgrade.
– No problem.
It costs a lot.
– Bags?
– One to check, one carry-on.
I fill out the tag, she attaches it to the big black bag and I watchall that money slide away on the conveyor. Nothing ventured…
– You’re all set, Mr. Carlyle. You might want to hurry a bit, that flight is getting ready to board. Have a nice trip.
I take my ticket and head toward my gate. I pass about five or six cops standing in a circle, talking about the Mets. My picture is still on the front page of all the papers, and I am unseen. I feel powerful. Then I get to the X-ray machines and remember I have a cat in my bag and no papers to take him on board.
The bathrooms are off to the left. I go in and take the first stall. I put the bag on my lap and unzip. Bud pokes his head out and I give him a little rub. I should have left him with Billy. He would have given him to the chickwho digs cats.Now?
I dig around in the bag until I find his pill bottle. I read the label very carefully. I’m supposed to give him two a day, one in the morning and one at night. I chuck Bud under the chin and shake three of the pills into my hand. I feed them to him one after another,then hold him until he’s still. I stand and set Bud down on the floor. I take off my jacket and shirt and pull up my T-shirt. I sit back on the toilet, unwind the Ace bandage from my middle and pick Bud back up. It’s hard, but I manage to hold him against me and wrap the bandage around him at the same time, making a kind of sling for his body. I look in the bag and find the spare bandage and use it as well. I stand up and he stays put, bound to my stomach by the double bandage. I tuck the T-shirt back in, button and tuck in my Yves, put the jacket back on and do up all three buttons. I open the stall door and step out. In the mirror it doesn’t look bad, a beer belly.
I get to the checkpoint. I set the bag on the conveyor and watch it slide through. I walk through the metal detector and set off no alarms. I don’t sweat, I don’t tremor,my eyes are not shifty. I am a criminal mastermind. I am cold as ice. The cops and the airport security are barely looking. I have already become a myth to them. No one so wanted could ever make it this far, so they sip their coffee and bitch about their jobs and I stroll past.
I stop at the pay phones. When she picks up, I hear a series of clicks and voices in the background.
– It’s me, Mom.
– Are you all right, Henry? Are you all right?
– I’m OK, Mom. I’m going away.
– Where?
– I can’t say.
– Oh. They’re here, Henry. They want to talk to you.
– I love you, Mom.
– Oh, Henry.
– TellDad I love him.
– Henry.
– I love you.
– I love you, Henry.
First class is nice. They give me a hot towel and I put it over my face to hide all the tears.
When the seat belt light goes off, I go to the can with my bag andunwrap Bud. His breathing is shallow. I hope he’s OK. I pad myself with some towels from the bag so I still look fat and put Bud back in. I leave it a tiny bit unzipped so he can breathe easier. The whole flight, they offer me cocktails. I take a coupleVics instead.
We land inCancún. I’ve never been to Mexico before, but I’ve heard customs is very easy here. When I go to claim my luggage, the money bag is already there, revolving on the carousel.
The customs agent looks at my face and at my passport. He grimaces a little and looks inquisitive. I smile ruefully.
– Car accident.
–
–
He laughs and stamps my papers.
– Have a nice visit, sir.
– Thankyou.
I’m walking toward the exit. Up ahead there is a small traffic light. As passengers arrive at the light, they push a little button. If the light flashes green, they exit the airport. Red, and they and their bags are subjected to a random search. I push the button.
It’s a very Christmassy kind of green.
