Marathon Man - Prelude

 

 

                In the dimly lit interior of a Checker Marathon taxi the driver reached for a

cigarette. He had long since given up the thought of trying to quit smoking, tired of

running out of cigarettes because he had deliberately not purchased any only to

race out of the house later like a madman; not caring what he looked like or even felt

like, happily paying premium prices at the closest open store. Now he never went

anywhere without a full or almost full carton in his briefcase. That terrible morning

cough was almost an all day affair now; the pain alleviated only somewhat by the coarse

burning liquid of a certain sour mash bourbon of which he limited himself to two

or three after work and one or two before bed to help "cut the phlegm"; as the old

steelworkers used to say. Cigarette. Coffee. Cigarette. Whiskey. The cycle had

become as comfortable as an old pair of shoes. His body had become addicted to certain

things, he’d rationalized, if it wasn’t accommodated, it would cease to function.

 

            "Where to, Ma'am?” he said, already noticing her suitcases and her airline

ticket. He had learned a long time ago that the tips were better if a cab driver didn't

appear to be too intelligent. "The airport, please,” she replied, “but first I have to make a quick stop in the Hill District.” "I'll only be a minute, I'm sure you won't mind."

 

            Mind! Of course he wouldn't mind. It was the best trip he'd had all day; a

little detour into one of the worst neighborhoods of the city was the least of his

worries. Besides, that was probably the reason the doorman had called him. He was one of the few drivers who would go into the "bad" areas. After loading the suitcases and

closing the passenger door he double checked the safety on his handgun; and

put the extra clip within easy reach.

 

            The woman had given him the address of a unit in a housing project that had

long ago started resembling a shell-shocked war zone, something most people only

saw on the six o'clock news when they showed the most recent bombings.

It was almost exclusively the domain of druggies; pushers and addicts from within

and from all over town wandered about inside its partially fenced in acres. She couldn't possibly think that he hadn't a clue as to why they were there, but kept up a pretense just the same.

 

 

                                              The Marathon is on…

 

 

            "I have to drop this suitcase off at a friend's house. There was a small mix-up

at the airport, somewhat my fault, and since it's not really that far out of the way......"

 

            On and on she went, for whose benefit I couldn't gather, since there were only

the two of us in the cab and I couldn't care less what she did in that drug-infested rat

hole. I did mention that this was a bad neighborhood, and for her not to dawdle, on

the outside chance her story was real. That warning was issued mostly for my benefit, to ease my conscious, and she seemed to realize that.                                                                                                                                                  

            I was not afraid to use my gun, and had pulled it out on several occasions

but had never shot at anybody and hoped I wouldn't have to today. But surrounded

as I was, or seemed to be, while waiting in the parking lot with at least twenty or thirty

curious and angry looking people who were giving me the impression that they had never seen a taxi in their lifetime (at least not here); most of them wearing clothes that could easily hide a bazooka or two, not to mention a horde of small arms; I wondered if they thought I was crazy or just stupid. Must have been the former, for aside from a few stares

and muttered words, I was left totally unmolested. After what seemed like an eternity

but was in actuality only a few minutes as promised, my well dressed passenger

returned minus the aforementioned suitcase.

 

            "Thank you for waiting. See! I wasn't long at all. Just one more stop and we'll

be on our way to the airport."

 

            The disgruntled sigh escaping from my lips must have told her that she was

now cutting into my time. Still not wanting to give up the remainder of the only good

trip I'd had all day, I resigned myself to suffer in silence until she threw double the

approximate fare on the front seat. Much appeased, I replied in a happier tone;

"Just my job, Ma'am, eight days a week. Where to next?"

 

            I never found out where she went to next. She got out on the corner of Fifth

and Smithfield, underneath the big Kaufman’s clock. I was to pick her back up in

thirty minutes at the same spot. All things considered, the fact that I waited for her an entire hour was over and above the call of duty, far more than any other cabbie would

have done under the circumstances. I was already well paid, and when she wanted her

other suitcase back she could always contact me through the company that I leased the

cab from.

 

            There wasn't much in the suitcase. A couple of letters, written in French, three

pair of nylons, new in the box, the expensive kind; I'd given them to my wife, and

fifty thousand dollars in cash. Two weeks had gone by and the suitcase and most

of its contents were still in my basement. If my passenger didn't come around for it

soon, I would be able to pay the electric bill and still take a day off this week. Fifty

thousand dollars was not a lot of money on the whole of things, but to a cab driver

who had to cheat on his income tax just to make minimum wage it was worth keeping

quiet about. Just keep your eyes and ears open, I told myself, and if someone or

something doesn't turn up soon I'll just keep it. Who wouldn't, I thought, under the

same circumstances?

 

            The electric company was persistent, and my wife's car quit running about a

year sooner than I'd hoped. Tuition costs for the boy's college were higher than

expected, and you can guess the rest. However, more than a month had gone by

with no inquiries about the bag, and I still had almost half of the money left.

 

            The hotel doorman's heart attack came as no surprise to anyone. He

was, after all, seventy years old, one hundred pounds overweight, drank like a fish and also a chain smoker. The first two cabdrivers, both of whom died within a week of each other, also suffered from at least a couple of the same afflictions. It was only when a friend, in the best of health, without a bad habit to his name, was found dead in his cab of an apparent heart attack that I began to worry. Well, worry was an understatement.

Afraid. That was it. Deathly afraid. He was one of the few other drivers who would

work the "bad neighborhoods". He was not only working the same day I'd picked

up that woman, but had also been sitting at the taxi stand at the same hotel several

times that day. I'd seen him there. I’d spoken to him there, while waiting for that lady

to come out to my cab. Had he seen her? Had I said something to him? Certainly

not about the suitcase nor the disappearing act she'd pulled. Perhaps I'd grumbled

something over the radio about having to wait for her in the housing projects. I couldn't

remember. He was dead. And with no family to inquire, there was not going to be

more than a routine autopsy performed. Just another cab driver that probably worked

too many hours and didn't take care of himself.

 

            I started being extra careful about the fares I was picking up, but I knew that

eventually they would get around to me. Actually, I was surprised that I wasn't among

their first selections. There couldn't have been very many drivers who were available

at that time that could have or even would have made that trip. Even assuming that

one or two of them may have actually died of natural causes still left at least one

and possibly more murders cleverly covered up. On the face of it, it seemed like a

pretty elaborate scheme and a lot of work to go through for fifty thousand dollars.

 

            On the other hand, while for the average citizen that amount of money will

always represent a small fortune; to someone capable of killing so easily and

disguising it so well it was probably petty cash. Walking around money. There

must have been a lot more in the other suitcase. The one she'd dropped off. A

whole lot more. I wondered briefly if I could find it. Before they found me. And they

would find me, unless I bought some time.

 

            At the next corner, I intentionally ran head-on into a slow moving bus. The damage to the cab and the ensuing argument with my supervisor assured me a two-week

suspension. Claiming that a friend had given me a vacation package he was unable

to use, I sent my family to South Carolina for ten days, cautioning them that they must

use his name to guarantee the deep discounts he'd received. Then, purchasing the

oldest and cheapest Cadillac I could find that still ran, I proceeded to check out the

housing project where this scenario had started, ruling out the hotel for several

reasons.

 

            This time I fit in a little better, and was actually greeted with a few waves and

smiles. (I think they were smiles.) As I approached the apartment where she'd left the

other suitcase, I was informed by several that "that' game had moved on. Just in time,

from the number of inquiries recently, I learned.

 

            Since the apartment was not only vacant but wide open, I managed a

perfunctory look around, enough to assure me that there was nothing to be found. As

my new acquaintances had made it clear that they had given no information to

anyone, I could see no point in asking any questions myself. After making a small

purchase from the proprietors of the "new" game, I left hoping I'd earned enough

trust to approach them again if I had to.

 

            For no reason other than the lack of any further clue, I went down to the same

corner where I had dropped off my lady passenger, trying to remember which

direction she had gone. She couldn't have been planning to go very far if I was to meet

her back there in thirty minutes. I don't know what I expected to find, but somehow I

wasn't surprised to see a few of the same drug runners that I'd seen at the housing

project. One I'd even talked to, joked around with. He'd led me to my "purchase".

 

            For three days I watched that corner as often and discreetly as possible. By

then I knew I'd stumbled onto a major drug route, well disguised but unmistakable

if one was looking. But my time was running out. In a week my family would return,

and I knew I'd need professional help to protect them. And myself. Although no

further deaths had occurred that I'd heard of, my sources at the taxi garage told me

there were people asking questions.

 

            After fruitlessly following several well-dressed women who passed that corner

going to and from their offices or lunch, I decided to concentrate only on the ones who

made eye contact or even looked at the druggies. A waiting taxi caught my attention.

After thirty minutes of waiting, at a spot unlikely to pick up any good fares, it had my

undivided attention. When a well-dressed woman finally stepped into the cab, I ran

without hesitation to where I'd parked my old Caddy, about a block and a half away.

Had she really glanced at one of the druggies on the corner or was my imagination

desperately seeking any clue?

 

            Roaring down the road as only a twenty year old Caddy can, I passed the

taxi and its passenger about two miles out of town. At that rate I would arrive at the

airport five minutes or so ahead of them. But how to go unnoticed at the airport? After

twenty-plus years of working the airport for trips, I was acquainted with or on a first

name basis with over half of the airport personnel. Also, numerous cabbies hung around

the terminal while waiting their turn in line. Many of those people were predisposed

to idle chattering and had a natural curiosity that was borderline nosey. I would have

to be short with them, and that in itself could lead to attention being drawn to me. I had

no idea what the people involved in this thing looked like, except the woman passenger

I was now racing to the airport, but I was pretty sure that they would know what I

looked like. Probably even had a picture of me.

 

            I left the old Caddy at the curb near the departure entrance, hoping the

police would need days if not weeks to trace it back to me. Making it through the

gauntlet of co-workers was easy enough; most of the ones that did notice me were either

busy or too far away for more than a brief nod or a quick wave. One old cabbie did corner

me, and began peppering me with questions." How did the accident happen? Pretty

stupid to run into a bus like that, huh? Was I fired? Or merely suspended? How

about the fire at my house? Was everybody OK? Did I have insurance? What

was...." “Fire?” I thought. Mercifully he stopped in mid-sentence as I nearly fell over. I must have looked terrible, and I momentarily lost sight of the woman that I was following. Looking around, I soon saw her seated in one of the boarding areas.

 

My old friend continued: “You must be near out of your mind. A run of bad luck like that..." Assuring him that my family was all right, my slow-witted brain made a weak excuse to get away from him. I think I said something about meeting my insurance adjustor at the airport because he only had half of the day to survey the damage to my house and still catch his flight back home.

 

            The plane that she was waiting to board was headed to Nassau in the Bahamas.

Boarding in about five minutes. Trying to plan for anything, I fortunately had my

birth certificate with me in case I needed a passport. I didn't. Entry into the Bahamas

required only a driver’s license and proof of citizenship. So much for traveling

incommunicado.

 

            The flight was a chartered trip but there was space available if I would pay

full coach. I figured she would be in first class and was right. Seated in the rear of

the plane, still not noticed by the woman, (something like that would have bothered me

years ago but was about the only thing going right so far), I finally had time to think

about the fire. When did it happen? For three days while watching that corner, I'd

slept not at all the first night, little the second (in the car), and in an old flea-bag hotel

the third night. It had been no accident that I'd stayed away from the house, as sure

as the fire itself was no accident. Should I call the family and explain? Nobody knew

where they were except the in-laws, and I didn't think there was any way they could

learn about the fire. On second thought, there could be no explanation. Not yet. I'd

call and see how they were, just to make sure they weren't planning on leaving

early. Only their second vacation in ten years, I didn't think they would.

 

            Breezing through customs while complaining loudly about my misplaced

luggage I was able to see which hotel limousine the woman had taken. Jumping

into the first waiting taxi, I proceeded to the same place. When the driver tried to pass the

limousine, a small bribe convinced him to slow down and just follow it, since I was

sightseeing and in no hurry. A short conversation with him told me that I was with an

experienced driver with a good head on his shoulders and plenty of savvy. I then

showed him my own cab license from back home and told him that I was a fellow

cab driver from the States and may need his help for the next five days. Knowing that

wouldn't be enough to persuade him to help me, I also gave him a thousand dollars.

For the next five days he would be parked outside my hotel unless asked to meet

me elsewhere. Another thousand when I left, be it two, three, four, or the full five

days. That was all the time I'd allow myself, if I had nothing by then it was home to

face the music.

 

            I arranged a room right across the hall from the woman's room, an easy

trick performed with a small tip. Having room service purchase some appropriate

clothes for me was also easily done. With one eye on the peephole I changed and called my family; promising to join them in a couple of days, and maybe extend our vacation a bit as well.

 

            The knock on the door startled me, only partly because my eyes were still

on it. I hadn't heard anyone coming and I certainly wasn't expecting anyone. It was

the woman I'd been following. Her name was Helen, and she said we had a lot to

talk about.

 

            "If I see someone twice in the same day my alarms start ringing", she said.

I've seen you three times today in three different places; downtown Pittsburgh,

the airport, and now this hotel in the Bahamas. It's no coincidence, and we're

looking for the same thing, I assure you."

 

            "I'm looking for someone who's trying to kill me", I said, after a meek

introduction. "He or they have killed several other cab drivers and burned my house

down. I hardly think that's what you're looking for. I think he or they are who you

work for."

 

            "I did work for him. And that's it. No they. Just him. One man. He changes

his hired help often, and he has no partners. One month ago he was ripped off for

a half a million dollars. Cash. It had just been exchanged for a suitcase full of

cocaine. But then you must know the rest. I take it you were the cab driver

involved in the delivery?"

 

            "Yes. But I never saw the woman after she got out of the cab. Besides, she

dropped off a suitcase and came back with nothing. I was to pick her up later at the

same corner where I first saw you. She never showed up, and I waited a long time."

 

            "That was me inside at the housing projects. We were to meet back at the

airport..."

 

            "And split the money," I said. "Well, why didn't she just go there?"

 

            "She was a user. Big time. She needed a score; said it would calm her. We

were friends and I refused to help her buy or steal that stuff. Of course she went

right back to that corner to get some. It was the only place she knew of in town.

By the time she'd got done partying, they'd noticed the money was missing. Soon,

she was too."

 

            "But why the elaborate scheme? Why did you go back if you already

had all that money? And why tell me all this?"

 

            "Because I was in the clear. I had completely lost him, for the time being. And to stay one step ahead, I went where I was least expected. Besides him there were only one

or two lower level agents, the kind he replaces often, who could possibly have

recognized me. I went to kill him; he would have found me sooner or later. He

wasn't there, and I had to leave before I started attracting attention. You were

followed. It's only a matter of time before he knows where we both are."

 

            "I was not followed."

 

            "He had men at the airport watching for you for several days. You got on

the plane before they could act, that's all, but believe me the gears are in motion.

There's simply no way you could not have been seen. I know it's somewhat of

an assumption, but it must be acted upon."

 

            "I'm running out of money. I know your not, if you still have that suitcase.

I'll assume the airport is out of the question, so let's find a boat and get out of here."

 

            "No. We have to find him. It won't end until he's dead,” she emphasized. “I can run and hide a long time on a half a million dollars by myself; but how long can you and your entire family last on what's left of that fifty thousand dollars?"

 

            "Oh, so you know about that", I said, not really surprised. "This little trip

really put a dent in my stash. It's a shame we couldn't have had this talk in

Pittsburgh. By the way, does he have some kind of drug that kills and leaves

behind only heart-attack symptoms?"

 

            "Yes, he does. And it can be put in your food, your cigarettes, even that

sour-mash bourbon you like so much. How long you live depends on how long he

lives. At least he doesn't have partners or close associates. With him out of the way,

the orders to find us and kill us are gone, because the money to pay for the

operation is gone. Not many people can afford to lose a half million in cash. He can,

but it still hurts, and he'll spend that much or more to get it back."

 

            "At this rate he won't have to. You better level with me. He's out more

than a half million. Probably more like a cool one million. If you kept the cash, I'm

sure you found a way to keep and resell the drugs, too."

 

            "No. I didn't have...."

 

            "Really, I don't know or care. But it fits and I'm going to assume it's true. It

just makes me feel better about you having to pay the rest of the expenses we

run up."

 

            "It's a much longer flight from Pittsburgh to Nassau than from Florida, where he

has many operatives", said Helen, completely unshaken by my subtle accusation. "Add

in the time involved at customs and time spent checking into this place; we have to

assume his men are here by now. And I mean right here. Probably he is, too, in

the background. No one but me could possibly recognize him. From now on, we

have to assume that if something is possible he's doing it or already done it."

 

            "Fine", I said. "But let's play worst case scenario. Counting any locals

armed with a picture and a reward, how many people could he have here? Five,

six, ten? Certainly no more than that. If we can locate or isolate some of them, we

ought to be able to make a move."

 

            "O.K., great", laughed Helen. "Figure two outside this room, or at least on this

floor. Another two in the lobby. One at the front door and one at or near the back

door. Where are we going?"

 

                        "Jump out the window and over the balcony. Why else did you get a

room on the second floor when the best rooms are at the top?"

 

            Out the window we went. Looking around the back for my driver, I was

surprised to see him in a private automobile. Sheepishly he explained that rather than

split the profits with the cab company he'd decided to take the week off and

shuttle me around in his own car. He had no idea what a break this was for me and

my new found friend, so I decided to tell him. From the gist of the conversation Helen

figured out what I'd arranged, and got in the car quickly and quietly.

 

            "Manny, I'm giving you a chance to drop us off and forget you ever saw us.

You can keep the money I've already given you. If you want to stay and help, you'll

be very well paid for your risk. Ten times the original amount. In advance. And double

when we leave, just as before." I looked over at Helen and watched her pull that much

out of her purse with no more trouble than me trying to find a five dollar bill in my

pocket. "The people who are looking for us can kill easily and make it look like

a heart attack. We don't know what they look like or even how many of them there

are. We don’t even..." "I'm in", said Manny, reaching back for the money.

 

            After filling him in on some of the details and precautions we thought necessary,

we told him the whole story. Or at least I did. He seemed to think that Helen was

leaving a few things out, and said as much. She only conceded to having tried to sell

me down the river, but didn't or couldn't because they wanted her even more than me.

 

            Manny uttered a single phrase that I'd used many times. "Where to, sir?"  I think

he knew we had no idea where to go or what to do next, but said it automatically,

like I had thousands of times. Perhaps it was his own way of directing the flow

of conversation back to the problem at hand. Fortunately he was already driving and

had been for a while so we all felt reasonably safe, at least for the moment.

 

            "Well", I said, "first let's pick up some things I think we'll need. Some weapons,

right away, and about a two or three day supply of pre-packaged food and drink.

"Manny, I trust you can help us out in these areas."

 

            "No problem."

 

            "Manny, is there a small, local airport near here; you know, the kind that's only used by private planes?"

 

            "Yeah. Right over there. Why, you want to go there?"

 

            "Ah, jeez. Not right in the front door. Can't you take us someplace where we

can watch it without being seen? Maybe Helen will recognize someone or we might

even find a clue or get some idea of their movements, if they came into Nassau that

way. Remember, we’re going to have to make a lot of assumptions or we'll never

stay ahead of them."

 

            "No assumptions needed," said Helen. "I've already spotted his private

jet sitting in the back."

 

            "A friend of mine has a small house on that hill behind," said Manny. He's a

bird watching nut, and I think he has several good pair of binoculars and a real nice

camera. He also loves to party and gamble whenever he has some extra money. I'll tell

him you want to rent the house for a quiet week of bird watching. If you give him

enough money, he'll be on his way to Rio within the hour."

 

            The owner saw nothing wrong with renting his house for a week to the two

rich and eccentric Americans. He even gave Manny a ten per cent finders fee, five

hundred dollars, then asked for a ride to the airport. "I had to take it," said Manny,

smiling, "otherwise he would have become suspicious."

 

            When Manny returned a few hours later he had everything I'd asked for. While

he was gone Helen had spotted and photographed two men who were hanging

around the jet, using the wonderful equipment that our landlord had graciously

shown us how to operate.

 

            "We'll be in that jet waiting for him when he comes back. That's the last

place they'll look for or expect us," said Helen. "Let's go before any more of them

show up."

 

            When our party of bird watchers and their local guide wandered too close

to the jet, both of the guards came over, expressing interest, but mainly to shoo us

away. "This is so easy", Helen and Manny said almost at the same time, as each of

them shot the guard nearest them, at exactly the same time. By the time I finished my

cigarette we had their bodies well hidden and we were on the plane. I decided it was

safe to have a small celebration, and opened a bottle of sour mash bourbon I was lucky enough to find in the galley.

 

            "Look, there's a message on the pilot's recorder," said Helen. "He's on his way

back to the jet now. Should be here in about ten minutes. His troops are a couple of

minutes behind him. He knows exactly when we left the hotel, but thinks we’re in a

boat. He wants to fly around the island a few times until he spots us."

 

            'Hmmmm," I said, thinking about my original plan to escape in a boat. "We almost have him where we want him, but we've got to keep the rest of them away. At least until we get out of here. Any ideas?"

 

            Manny grinned. "Every now and then a big jet gets diverted to this small airport," he said. "Narrow, winding dirt roads leading in. Big trucks. Little trucks. Fire trucks. Police cars. Ambulances. And hundreds of cabs looking for fares. Only happens a couple-three times a year. I'll radio some of the taxi companies and ask them for about thirty or forty cabs. A couple of hundred cabbies will be racing here in about two minutes."

 

            The car pulled along side the private jet. A man got out and started towards

the plane, looking around, undoubtedly for his guards. Helen nodded at Manny and they

each shot him about ten times, mostly in the head and neck area, I noticed. We'd

barely made it back into the woods when the first of the taxis came racing onto the

runway. Looking back about five minutes later, I saw a literal gridlock of taxis, and

a few private cars, jammed almost permanently into gridlock around the small airport.

 

            Manny dropped us off at the international airport about thirty minutes later,

grinning and counting his money as he drove away. "I didn't think it would be this

easy," I said to Helen.

 

            "It usually is," she replied. "See you later, maybe."

 

            Immediately after landing in South Carolina I located my family and gave

them the bad news about our house. They insisted on driving home that same day.

Between their vacation being interrupted with such bad news and my recent ordeal

and lack of sleep; it was not a pleasant twelve hour drive. We quickly surveyed the

damage, then checked into a motel and started contacting the insurance people.

 

            After apologizing to the boss and agreeing to pay for the damage to the taxi

that I'd crashed I was back to work. While cruising past one of the hotels the doorman flagged me down for a customer who had requested me specifically. The passenger hopped in and proceeded to offer me a job managing a small hotel in the Bahamas that offered fishing and pleasure cruises. "Owned by a fellow named Manny. He knew I was

coming to Pittsburgh on business and asked me to look you up and offer you this

job. He's a local hero down there. Seems he hit it big at one of the casinos or one of

the horse tracks and bought the place. Anyway, he wants you to run it. Bring your whole

family, he said, there's room and work for all of them, if they want it."

 

            When I arrived at the far from small resort that was now "Manny's", I knew

he'd spent a lot more than the twenty-some thousand dollars that Helen and I had given

him. I also knew that I'd never see Helen again. Nobody would, I thought. Manny

came out wearing that familiar big grin, and showed me to my rooms. Just a small,

twelve room apartment on the top floor of the hotel, on the side facing the ocean.

 

            "You can start working in about three or four weeks. Until then just relax

and get to know the place. Is your family coming soon? Hey, we’re just a couple of

cab drivers who got a lucky break, you know?"

           

           

 

 

           

           

 

           

 

           

           

             

           

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