C27 Billy had a plan

Billy fed Chauncey one baked bean and a tablespoon of water. Chauncey pleaded with Billy for a snoot full of coke.

“I can snort half a gram at one time,” he boasted. “Want to see?”

Chauncey was clearly losing his mind. Billy taped his mouth. He stuffed a wad of toilette paper up one of his nostrils. Billy blew out the candle. He noted the dread in Chauncey’s eyes as he went through the door with the silver metal suitcase. Billy said nothing.

He wanted to leave the impression that he was never coming back.

He wanted to weaken Chauncey Gibbons.

He didn’t want to kill him, but he wanted to destroy him to the point that he gave up the goods.

Billy had a plan.

Time was short.

He found a taxi and went to the Tenderloin. He found the dirty

little office where he had been the day before. He introduced himself as Eddie Giles and asked if his passport was ready. He was led to an office the size of a closet. He sat on a plastic chair.

The man who faced him on another plastic chair was dark- skinned, with dark hair, and a thickset body. He had a face that had been weathered by the sun. He might have been thirty-five.

“Your documents are all in order, Señor,” he said and opened the manila envelope sitting on his lap. He pulled out the passport and handed it to Chauncey.

Billy opened it and saw a picture of Eddie Giles. He saw his new birth date. He was deemed to be sixty now, a good cover for the way his face had aged on the street. He had been born in Milwaukee. His security seal designated him to be of a character that he merited Super Clearance.

The brown man then handed Billy his international driver’s license and birth certificate. Both looked as authentic as his passport. Billy sat there and marveled at his tickets to freedom.

“We do good work,” the brown man assured him.

Billy inquired about the private plane that would fly him to freedom on New Year’s Eve. The brown man told him that it was just a matter of payment. Billy asked him what assurance he had that he would arrive at his destination with no interference from Homeland Security. The brown man asked Billy about his destination. Billy said he was going to the coffee capital of the world.

The brown man sat back and smiled.

“There was a brief power struggle there over Christmas, but it was settled quickly. You won’t have any problems.”

Billy felt a bolt of anxiety.

“Then what about the Palin People?” he asked. “They’re every- where looking for lawbreakers.”

The brown man’s smile grew even wider, revealing three gold teeth.

“We’re bigger than Palin,” he said. “Our money got her elected. We own her. She does what we tell her to do, Señor.”

Billy couldn’t help but look around his small humble surroundings.

“Really?” he asked.

“Don’t be deceived, Señor,” the brown man said. “The Global Cartel Union determines who’s in power and who is not. Nobody on the planet gets elected without our approval.” The man sat forward with a smile that revealed six more gold teeth. “She’s our whore now, baby.”

Billy set the silver metal suitcase on his lap and opened it. He counted out the price in stacks of thousand-dollar bills. He handed the money to the brown man. The brown man did a thorough recount. Then he put the documents in the brown manila envelope and clipped it closed. He handed it to Billy.

“Your plane will be ready to leave at eleven tomorrow night as you requested. At ten o’clock, a private car will pick you up at the corner you designated.”

Billy put his documents in the silver metal suitcase stood up and shook the man’s hand. Only then did Billy realize how moist his own hand was.

“Relax, Señor,” the man encouraged him. “You have nothing but good fortune ahead of you now.”

Billy went to a bank and started a new bank account. He paid a special fee to have it processed in an hour. He made a deposit of ten thousand dollars. No one questioned his silver metal suitcase. He was a man of distinction, obviously.

Billy went to his favorite restaurant and ordered the pot roast. He savored the pool of gravy on his mashed potatoes. He delighted in the boiled carrots smothered in butter. He sat with the warm apple pie and coffee. He remembered when Isabel would set a fresh pie in front of the children. Their peals of joy.

He remembered the night a band of drunken Young Zealots forced him to his knees, and then forced his face to the sidewalk and ordered him to lick the puddle of something on the concrete. He had no idea what the puddle of something was. Then Billy turned off the past, like the lights in a room he was leaving.

He took out his passport again and opened it up. He was no longer Oscar McBain. He was no longer Billy Wild. He was Eddie Giles now.

Billy went to the bank and picked up his ATM card, along with a book of blank checks. He told them the only form of banking he’d be doing would be done online.

Billy took a taxi downtown. He bought a beautiful piece of luggage by Louis Vuitton. He bought suits, shoes, socks and underwear. He bought a few more shirts. Every time Billy bought something new, he felt more like Eddie Giles.

He bought pajamas and a bathrobe and slippers. He bought Prada sunglasses. He bought an overcoat. He bought a jaunty bowler hat and a carved walking stick to ease his aching back from so many years of leaning over the shopping cart.

These were the kinds of things Eddie liked. Eddie was a man of distinction. Billy was a man of courage. Billy was heroic. He had survived hell and came out of it smelling like a rose.

Billy packed all his new things in his new piece of Louis Vuitton luggage. Billy went to a drugstore and bought a box of Pampers. He went to a religious store and bought a cross on a long chain.

He bought a hair shirt. He bought a pair of leather sandals. Billy had a plan.

He spent another night at the Fairmont Hotel to give Chauncey a little more time to think.