Page 229 - harryDEC12_clean.iba

SECTION 2
"RVI? - NEVER HEARD OF IT"
Moira as usual booked the flights and I set off on a lonely mission. On a Sunday afternoon I landed at JFK Airport. As usual I had $US 20,000 sewn into the lining of my blazer, but this time I was nervous. The officer at the immigration desk spotted that in his routine way and looked at me suspiciously.
“Anything to declare?”
“No, Sir.”
“Please open your briefcase.”
I did as ordered. The officer carefully searched through all the papers and tapped on the base of the briefcase. Then he handed the briefcase back to me. I had small pearls of sweat on my forehead.
“Are you not feeling well, Sir?” asked the officer, and I answered, “I think I’m developing a cold.”
In the baggage room my suitcase was singled out. A dog was sniffing at it. You can sniff all you want you beast, I thought. Under normal circumstances, I quite like dogs, but not those, who work for the authorities they were like traitors. My suitcase was thoroughly rifled through. They found nothing and wished me a good trip.
Douglas Weltz was waiting at the arrivals area holding a half eaten Hamburger in his hands. He was a broad shouldered guy, with a GI - hair cut and a mean look. He did not look at all like an insurance broker - an impression that was confirmed when he grabbed may hand with an iron fist.
"Hi Harry, nice to meet you"
he said casually
"Let's knock down a beer on the way to the Hotel, shall we?
I nodded.
We went to the parking zone. It was already evening and the air was windless. A hazy fog covered the last sun rays shining on New York's skyline, which gave it an almost unreal atmosphere. He stopped a few blocks from the Hotel and we entered a somewhat scruffy bar, called The Cabin, and sat down. Douglas ordered two Miller Light and then turned to me:
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