Free Wood's Harbor by Steven Becker Page B

cab pulled off the curb, nearly hitting a bicycle, and swerved into traffic. Horns blared as the driver navigated the mixture of bikes, scooters, pedestrians and cars, many ignoring the sidewalks and lanes. The cab turned left on Eaton and a dozen blocks later, pulled to a stop just short of Duval Street
    “You can walk faster than I can drive you from here, mon,” the driver said and told him the fare.
    Norm dug in his pocket and pulled out a ten, handing it to the driver and waving off the change. He needed to get out of the cab whatever the cost. He walked to Duval and turned right. Past Caroline and Greene streets, he saw the sign for The Hog’s Breath Saloon, but decided against it and passed by, walking another block to a short flight of stairs leading to Teasers. He always thought better in the dark.
    He paid the bouncer the five-dollar cover and walked into the cave-like club. There were several stages with girls gyrating in different phases of undress. The club was near empty, but there were a few tables and stools occupied. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. The blonde on stage caught his attention and he wondered if she could play the part he had in mind. With the beer in hand, he walked over to the padded rail and took a seat. She came over and squatted, her crotch at eye level. He leaned forward, stuck a hundred in her waiting garter, and as she bent over, he asked to speak to her privately.
    She glanced around the room. Norm knew this could go either way. She was either going to turn him in for trying to solicit her, or make sure no one was watching and take him up on his offer. He followed her gaze to the bouncer, reading a newspaper by the door, and then to the bartender, who was busy stocking beer bottles into a cooler. 
    “I get off at six. You meet me here.” She whispered an address in his ear. “And bring a few more of your friends.”
    He nodded and walked back to the bar to keep an eye on her, not interested in her moves now, but more in her interactions. He had a few hours to judge whether she was right for what he had in mind. Worst case, he was out a hundred and got a good show; best case, she would fit his job description. 
    After the second beer, his attention started to wander. There was only so much ass you could watch without touching, he felt. The conversation with the generalissimo took over his thoughts and he tried to figure out a way to make the Cuban’s demands work to his advantage. The novelty of the bar had worn off and his mind was wandering, He finished his beer, paid the bartender, leaving a generous tip, and went for the door. The girl gave a quick wink, which he returned with an almost imperceptible nod, confirming their rendezvous. He left the cold, dark room behind and went down the stairs, his exposed skin instantly crawling with beads of sweat when it met the humid air. 
    He walked down the street and entered a small electronics store where he paid cash for two pre-paid cell phones. He had given his last one to Travis, and in this business they were invaluable. The open air patio of a small bistro just off Duval caught his eye and he wandered over and took a table. After ordering, he opened one of the packages, checked the contacts in his phone and entered a number in the burner. 
    A woman who sounded more like a teenage girl answered.
    “If you are still interested in getting some field experience, I may have a job for you.”
     
    ***
     
    Davies walked down the narrow stairs leading from the plane to the steamy tarmac of Key West Airport and smiled. More a fan of an air-conditioned office, he was never so happy to be bathed in humidity. The Marshall followed him down the stairs and motioned him to stay within the cones and follow the airline employee leading the passengers into the building. They walked straight through the terminal, the Marshall carrying a briefcase that was too expensive for his suit. Davies clutched the legal pad and folder tightly under his