Stray Bullet (7 page)

Tuesday eventually came around and Greg had arranged to collect Harvey from home. Jenny already held Greg largely to blame for this assignment and on his arrival, avoided any eye contact with him.

“Darling, I’ll be thinking of you every minute, please hang on in there. Don’t give up on me.” A lump developing in his throat as he picked up Chloe and Rob, one in each arm, and squeezed them tight wondering how he would bear being apart from them for so long.

“I’m afraid we have to go now Jenny,” said Greg equally unable to make eye contact. She managed to cast him an icy stare, and turning to go he continued in a defeated manner, “Harvey, I’ll wait in the car.”

Jenny grabbed Harvey with both arms. “You just… just take care and let me know how you are if you can,” she said tearfully, trying to maintain a brave face.

Harvey gave her one last kiss and walked to the car. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t bear to. Jenny was weeping furiously and his own eyes began to swell.

Greg and Harvey would travel on to hitch a lift from RAF Brize Norton. There was a Royal Air Force VC10 Tanker going out on exercise to Nevada. They would be met and briefed by FBI agents before beginning the task of infiltration. It would be a long and arduous task…

It was the fourth of August 1982; one week away from what would have been Jack’s parents’ twenty
-fifth wedding anniversary. Jack’s visit to their graveside would be missed this year. He had made an effort on their birthdays, anniversaries and at Christmas to lay down flowers and take a moment to recall fond memories of them. It would be some time before he had another opportunity.

The weather was warm and humid at Heathrow’s terminal three.

“May I see your passport, please, sir?” asked the attendant.

Jack gave her his passport and first class tickets for Chicago O’Hare International.

“Did you pack the bag yourself?” she said running through the routine list of questions.

“Yes,” he replied.

A cold stare his only return. 

“You’ll be boarding at gate fourteen, sir.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, retrieving his passport and boarding pass. On making his way towards customs he noticed that the policemen were armed, an unusual sight in the United Kingdom.
No doubt a threat of a bombing from the IRA,
he thought. He proceeded through the metal detectors to the departure gates and headed directly for the bar.

“Cappuccino, please,” he politely asked the waitress.

“Would you like anything else, sir?” she enquired.

“No, that’s it, thanks.” He paid for the drink and headed for a free table. From his table he began watching the business travellers passing by hurriedly, whilst the many families travelling for pleasure, were lured in to the duty free shops to purchase cut price products and books to read on their forthcoming holidays.

‒ Flight British Airways 248 is now boarding at gate fourteen ‒
bellowed the tannoy.

Jack got up and looked around for signs for gate fourteen.  He calmly strolled down the long walkways and on arrival at the gate, he presented his boarding pass to the smartly dressed attendant.

  “You’ll be at the front of the plane, sir,” she informed him.  “You’ll be boarding first,” she continued with which another call came over the tannoy.

‒ Would any remaining passengers for British Airways flight 248 traveling to Chicago please make their way to boarding gate fourteen immediately ‒

Jack climbed the stairs to board the plane and once aboard, immediately noticed the first time fliers amongst the passengers nervously reading the safety instructions and scanning around for signs of emergency exits. Others were busily filling the overhead lockers with hand luggage and duty free. He glanced to his right to see a smart businessman already settled and looking through his papers, no doubt on his way to Chicago to make his latest deal, craving the commission that would feed his family for the next year or so. Jack wondered how it would feel to be normal. Their eyes met.

“Hi.  Rick Kane,” the man said, offering his name.

“Jack Shaw, have you flown before?” Jack responded politely.

“Sure, about once a month. I hear it’s going to be rough tonight!”

“Well, we’ll just have to roll with the punches!” he replied, taking his seat.

“I guess so.”

Jack wasn’t a frequent flyer and recalled a rather hair raising flight as a youngster with his parents travelling on holiday to Barcelona. He didn’t relish the idea of a harsh long haul experience.  He settled himself into the seat before glancing up to see the flight attendants marching up and down the aisle, their false smiles firmly attached, assisting the final passengers in finding their seats.

“Could you fasten your seat belt please, sir?” asked the passing attendant, as she checked every row for those non-compliant passengers ignoring the illuminated signs.

She passed Jack, her permanent smile attempting to put Jack at ease.  He had wondered how such people managed to maintain it for such long periods of time and, considered how different their inner thoughts might be to their outward appearance.

Within minutes, all of the passengers were settled and the captain switched on the tannoy system announcing their imminent take off.

Moments later the G-force could be felt as the beast of a plane attempted to become airborne. The jet engines straining to get up to speed before finally lifting the wheels off the tarmac. Jack called for the attendant as the plane rose to some 33,000 feet.

“Excuse me, can I get a drink?”

“What would you like, sir?” she responded.

“Vodka on the rocks,” he replied. “Do you want one Rick?”

“No, I’m okay, thanks,” replied Rick, clearly engrossed in some editorial of the in-flight magazine.

“That will be all, thanks,” he said whilst staring into her hazel brown eyes.

To Jack’s delight, the entire flight passed almost without incident.  There was some turbulence on the way, but nothing too out of the ordinary. When they finally landed, some several hours later, the tannoy came to life once again;

‒ Please remain seated until we are stationary at the International terminal building ‒
instructed the voice of the stewardess, with which several people immediately got out of their seats and started unloading the overhead lockers.

Having consumed his vodka and exchanged pleasantries with Rick, he had quickly settled back in his seat and drifted off to sleep. He’d had a bad experience with in-flight food previously and first class or not, he had decided not to wait up for the meal. 

The flight had passed incredibly quickly for him. He had slept
straight through it and dreamt about home. He’d spent most of the previous week covering furniture with dust sheets and locking away his most valuable items in the house. He had taken on a security box at a local bank for his mother’s jewellery, which had lain almost untouched where she had left it that fateful night over two years before. He hoped that one day, he would find someone worthy enough to display it in all its glory once again.

Lucio had assured him that they would keep a close eye on the house and Jack volunteered him the keys to let cleaners in once in a while. He was expecting to be away for some time. Before leaving, Jack had sent a message to Lee as he’d been unable to contact her as promised. He wasn’t entirely sure why he bothered, perhaps through professional courtesy, to say he would be absent for a while. He wondered if she would do long haul appointments.

Rick broke Jack’s train of thought. 

“Doesn’t it just amaze you?”

“Sorry, what?” replied Jack.

“Please remain in your seats until we’re at the terminal… so what do these sheep do? Immediately get out of their seats and start queuing.” He chuckled. “Unbelievable!” His voice could be clearly heard by other passengers who looked resentful at his comments, but all the same, knew he was correct.

“Are you being met at the terminal?” asked Jack.

“No. I’ll be hiring a car and making my own way to the hotel, and you?”

“I’m expecting to be picked up by friends,” replied Jack, wondering what these friends might look like, or how they would even contact him. Lucio had been deliberately uninformative about his relatives. “Don’t worry.  You’ll know them when you see them, Jack,” he had said.

Jack looked out of the window to see the ground crew running around, fixing the chocks under the wheels and preparing for the refuelling process. He could see the luggage already being removed from the holds and then, as the doors were opened to allow the passengers to exit, he felt the rush of warm air enter the aircraft.  He waited patiently in his seat as the queue thinned and then calmly got up. As he stretched, he heard his stomach rumble impatiently. It had been almost ten hours since his last meal. He would get a take away in the terminal.

Following the crowd through the tunnel and towards baggage reclaim; it struck him that the size of the airport made its UK counterparts appear very insignificant. The passengers all huddled together at baggage reclaim for twenty minutes or so before the first of the flight’s baggage began to appear on the revolving conveyor. Eventually, Jack caught sight of his own large suitcase and walked to the conveyor to lift it.

He launched it on to a trolley and felt a hand on his shoulder. Turning, half expecting to see his travelling mate Rick, he was taken aback.

“Jack, is that you?”
came the friendly voice from a man he’d never seen before in his life.

In his confusion Jack nodded.  “Err….yes.”

“Jack, my friend. It’s been years. It’s so great to see you.” He added in a whisper, “Act like we’re buddies. I’m Lucio’s cousin Vinny and we’re on camera.”

“Vinny! How have you been?” Jack exclaimed, feeling quite uneasy about entering such a charade with a complete stranger. He played along hoping the reason would soon become clear. Vinny helped Jack with his case and steered him towards a side exit where a security guard swiftly opened the door to let them through. To Jack’s surprise, it was not only Vinny who entered with him, but four other stern faced men following on behind them. Vinny passed the guard when Jack noticed him crossing the security guard’s palm with what looked like, a one hundred dollar bill.

“Why not just wait at the other side of customs for me?” asked Jack.  He received no reply.

Vinny motioned to his four counterparts. Two ran ahead and two remained keeping a watchful eye behind them. Jack was unnerved by this whole dramatic scene and was relieved when they finally, after several minutes of walking through empty corridors, reached the open air and to their car. Having taken the scenic route around the airport after leaving baggage reclaim, they hadn’t encountered a single airport official.

“I’m sorry about that, Jack. We’ve been experiencing a few problems recently,” Vinny eventually said. “More than likely, if you’d gone the customs route, you would have come out in a pine box.”

“Oh, I see,” Jack responded nervously.

“We’ll be taking you to Don Giordano’s place tonight. You’ll be safe there. He’s keen to meet you after the Bournemouth job.”

“News travels fast,” said Jack, wondering what exactly Lucio had told them.

“Only in the right circles!” spouted Vinny, who then spent most of the half hour journey speaking in Italian to the driver.

They drew near to the Giordano estate and Jack looked out of the window. He saw two large granite pillars signifying the entrance, each mounted with antique sculptures of African lions.  There was a large iron gate between them to keep out unwanted visitors.

Jack watched as the gates retreated slowly to allow the cars through.  He noticed the modern surveillance cameras strategically placed all around them and wondered how anyone could tolerate living with, what appeared on the outside to be, such fear. They slowly passed through the gates and Jack observed two suited individuals bearing automatic weapons across their shoulders. He turned to Vinny.

“Can I assume the Don is not too popular?” he asked, in awe of the massive security.

“Everybody has enemies, Jack,” he replied. “Welcome to America.”

Jack sat back in his seat. He had imagined Lucio to be as big a gangster as he would come across. It appeared that, perhaps he just held a franchise in this business. They pulled up in front of the main house; a magnificent building fit for royalty. Vinny got out of the car first and stepped back to open Jack’s door.

“It’s okay, I’ve got it!” yelled Jack impressed at meeting a mobster with manners.

“Okay, Jack. Let’s introduce you to the Don. A word of warning. He doesn’t like jokes from strangers. And don’t reach into your pockets without warning.”

“Why is that?” asked Jack naively.

“You’ll hit the floor before you have a chance to take your hand out again,” he replied sternly.