Dragonfly Dreams, Part 4

The little office was hot and smelled of stale cigarette smoke and urine. After being whisked away by the two policemen, Frank Mason found himself seated in this room at the far end of the airport. The two cops had left the room momentarily but then had returned. They were each smiling at him in a way that he didn’t quite like…but at least he had gotten away from the man with the monkey tattoo. He wondered where Martha Miller had gone. Surely she would come looking for him and help him get out of this mess.

“Is this your bag, senor?” one of the cops said, holding up Martha’s black bag. Frank thought that he looked a little like George Lopez.

“Uh no…no it isn’t,” Frank said, “Actually, I was holding it for a friend.”

Both of the cops looked at each other. The one holding the bag reached inside it and pulled out a little blue book. He threw it down on the table in front of Frank. Opening it, Frank was amazed to see that it was his own passport!

“Isn’t that your passport, senor?” the fatter of the two cops said, wheezing slightly.

“Ummmm….” Frank began, “I don’t know what’s going on here..but…”

The cop who looked like George Lopez asked again, “Isn’t that your passport?”

“Yes,” Frank couldn’t deny it. How had his passport gotten into Martha’s bag? He didn’t know what was going on.

With one swift movement, the cop turned the bag over. Three large plastic bags clumped out onto the table. They were filled with a white powder. Frank had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn’t need to ask what was in the bags.

“Cocaine, senor,” George Lopez said, “And I take it that it belongs to you as well.”

For the next hour, Frank was interrogated. They asked him every question in the book. They asked him about his job…which he couldn’t really say anything about other than that he worked for a pharmaceutical company. They asked him why he was in the country…which he couldn’t really say because he didn’t know himself. They asked him why he was trying to smuggle drugs INTO the country.

And Martha Miller? There was no sign of her. Nothing was in the bag except his passport and the drugs. There was no Martha Miller to be found in the airport. And to top it off, there was no record of a Martha Miller ever being on his flight. Even the flight attendants that they questioned stated that they didn’t remember anyone being with him on the flight.

“You are in serious trouble my friend,” the cop who didn’t look like George Lopez stated, “BIG trouble. If I were you, I would talk now…and maybe it will go easier for you.”

“But I don’t know anything!” Frank stammered….angry at being in this situation to begin with, “I told you….that bag belongs to…”

“Yeah yeah,” the cop laughed, “The mysterious woman who just happened to disappear from the women’s bathrooms.”

Laughing the cop walked out of the room, leaving Frank alone with his thoughts. He put his head down on his arms. How in the world was he going to get out of this mess? Should he try calling the company back in the States? He didn’t know. He just knew that something was wrong.

He heard the door open and someone walk into the room. The cops were back. Looking up, though, he saw that it wasn’t the cops. It was a man….a man who looked all too familiar. Frank found himself staring at the tattoo of the monkey holding the large banana.
“Well Frank,” the man spoke with an Australian accent, “You’ve really gone and messed everything up big time.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” Frank asked, “Don’t try anything….the cops are right outside! Hey….how did you get in here anyway? And how did you know my name?”

“Questions….questions…so many questions,” the man smirked, “Perhaps you should have asked some of those questions before you started swinging that bag of yours.”
“It isn’t MY bag,” Frank said, “It belongs to…”

“Martha Miller,” the man said, “Only her name isn’t Martha Miller. Her name is Janet. Janet Jones. And she’s no good Frank. She’s a spy. She’s trying to beat us to the….well….you’ll find out in time. How much has the company told you?”

“Nothing,” Frank said, “You mean…you work for Gaia Pharmaceutical?”

“For fifteen years now,” the man said, “My name’s Chuck. No last name…just Chuck. Now….if you want to get out of here before the cops come back, I suggest that you do exactly as I say.”

Frank nodded. He still didn’t trust this stranger…but anywhere would be better than staying here and being thrown in a Brazilian prison.

“What do we have to do?” Frank asked.

“Just watch,” Chuck smiled.

Chuck began to flex his arm. His muscles began to move, making the tattoo of the monkey appear to dance and move around. It looked almost real….very real. And then it moved. It began to pull itself right off of Chuck’s arm. Frank couldn’t believe what he was seeing as the tattoo came to life right before his eyes. But there it was…standing on the table right in front of him. The monkey looked silently up at Chuck.

“You know what to do,” Chuck whispered.

The monkey nodded and headed for the door. Chuck opened it and let it out into the hallway.