The air traffic controller knew Haddon was a close friend of his father who was serving a five-year stretch for robbery. He also knew that Haddon was pulling strings to get his father paroled. So when Haddon told him he wanted to see one of his friends get off to Paris without having to mix with the mob, he was happy to lend him his office. He was too busy in the control tower to wonder who Haddon’s friend might be.
Haddon smoked a cigar and watched the long line of passengers slowly passing through the customs’ barrier. He noted there were two FBI agents and two plain-clothes detectives with the customs men.
Every piece of luggage was opened and searched. The delay was endless. These passengers were on the New York flight. The Miami-Paris passengers were waiting outside the departure lounge.
Lepski’s taxi pulled up, and Lepski and Carroll alighted. As Lepski paid off the taxi, he heard a friendly voice saying, “Hi, Tom.”
Turning, he found Harry Jackson, a uniformed cop, grinning at him.
“Heard you were off to Europe,” he said. “Big deal! Afraid there’s one hell of a delay. It’s this icon crap.”
Lepski glared at the long queue waiting to enter the departure lounge.
“You’d better get in line, Tom,” Jackson went on. “I reckon there’s a good three-hour wait.”
“Not for me!” Lepski said firmly. “This is my goddamn vacation! I’m not standing in any goddamn line. Get me through to the check-in desks, Harry. Come on! Let’s go!”
Carroll said, “Lepski! You can’t do such a thing! These poor people might have been waiting hours.”
“Screw them!” Lepski said, and snatching up the two suitcases, he followed Jackson through a side door to the check-in lobby. Her face red when she saw how the waiting passengers were glaring, Carroll followed.
The girl at one of the check-in desks gave Lepski a sexy smile.
“Hi, Tom! I have your seats reserved, but there’s a delay. Go into the VIP lounge. I’ll tell Nancy to organize drinks. What do you fancy?”
Lepski, who was a well-known character and popular at the airport, gave her his big smile.
“Half a pint of Cutty Sark and half a bottle of champagne, sweetheart,” he said. He handed over the two suitcases. “I’ll bring you back some perfume from Paris.”
The girl giggled, then seeing Carroll glaring at her, lost her smile.
“Have a lovely vacation,” she said.
As Lepski steered Carroll to the departure lounge, she demanded, “Who was that?”
“I have my friends,” Lepski said with a smug smile. “Good cops always have friends.”
The Miami FBI agent came over.
“Hi, Tom! You going on this flight?”
The two men shook hands.
“Next flight: Paris,” Lepski said.
“There’s a delay, but you may as well go through the customs now. This flight has gone through.”
Lepski recognized Hermey Jacobs at the customs counter. He and Hermey shot regularly once a week at the Sharpshooter’s Club.
“Hi, Hermey!” he bawled. “I’m off to gay Paree!”
Jacobs’ face lit up. It was good to see a friend after handling all the rich creeps who kept moaning about opening their baggage.
Suddenly proud of her husband, Carroll followed Lepski up to the counter. She placed her vanity box on the counter and gave Jacobs a big smile.
“Hi, Hermey! How’s Mabs?”
Often Carroll and Mabs Jacobs played tennis together.
“Beautiful!” Jacobs said. “You look good enough to eat, Carroll.” He looked at the vanity box. “My! My! Big deal, huh?”
Although Haddon had nerves of steel, he was now sitting forward, staring down at this scene, and his cigar had gone out.
“Hey!” Lepski plucked at Jacobs’ arm, pulling him close. He whispered, “She’s got ten ounces of heroin in her panties. Want to take a look?”
Jacobs gave a bellow of laughter, punched Lepski lightly on his chest, then waved them through.
“Watch him, Carroll,” he said. “The French girls could fall for him in that suit.”
As they crossed to the VIP lounge, Carroll said, “Let’s get this straight, Lepski. No French girls... right?”
As Lepski was thinking up a reply, Ned Jason, Head of the Customs office, spotted them.
“Why, Tom! Haven’t seen you in weeks.” He shook hands, then turning to Carroll. “Honey, you look marvellous. You two off to Paris?”
“Yep. The first vacation we’ve had abroad. This is a hell of a mess, Ned. All this goddamn delay.”
“It’s this icon thing. The delay is all along the line. Interpol has moved in. You’ll have another long delay at Paris.”
Jason owed Lepski a favour. A year ago, Jason’s son got involved with a whore who tried blackmail. Lepski had fixed her.
“Can you fix something for us, Ned?” Lepski asked. “You draw a lot of water.”
The two men looked at each other, then Jason nodded.
“Sure, leave it to me. I’ll telex Charles de Gaulle to give you the VIP treatment. You’ll be at the head of the queue, and if you show your shield, they’ll pass you through pronto. How’s that?”
“Fine, and thanks.”
They shook hands and Jason hurried away.
“See?” Lepski crowed. “I may be an idiot in little things, but I’m a big deal in my job.”
Impressed, Carroll said, “You’re marvellous, Tom! I won’t ever let anyone say you are an idiot in little things ever again.”
“And don’t you say it either.” Lepski grinned. “Come on, let’s get drunk.” He grabbed hold of the vanity box, paused and gaped at her. “For God’s sake! What have you in this box... lead?”
“If you are too weak to carry it, give it to me!”
Carroll adored the vanity box, but had admitted to herself that it did seem unreasonably heavy.
Watching from the gallery, Haddon slowly relaxed. The vanity box, worth six million dollars, had gone over the first hurdle. Lepski’s plane wouldn’t arrive now in Paris until 11.00 the following morning. He picked up the telephone receiver and called Lu Bradey at the Sherman hotel, New York.
His talk was brief.
“They’ll arrive Paris eleven morning tomorrow,” he said. “So far, no problems,” and he hung up.
In his turn, Bradey put through a call to Duvine’s Paris apartment.
His call was as brief.
“Eleven morning, tomorrow, Charles de Gaulle. No problems,” and he hung up.
By the time Carroll and Lepski boarded the Jumbo jet, both of them were in a mellow mood. They had been cosseted by a bright-eyed, pretty hostess who was all over Lepski, and after finishing a second bottle of champagne, Carroll began to like her.
Settled in their seats, with half a bottle of Cutty Sark under his belt, Lepski was inclined to relax and sleep, but his peace was disturbed when, through the window, he saw a small coach arrive and from it spilled some thirty young people. The men and the girls were wearing the modern uniform of Levis and sweat shirts. They came storming into the first class section, shouting to each other in a language Lepski couldn’t identify.
He gave Carroll his sour look.
“How these young creeps can afford first class beats me!” he said.
“They have every right to travel as you and me,” Carroll said. “Do stop moaning.”
Lepski went to sleep.
Carroll woke him when dinner was served. The hostess gave them the VIP treatment. The dinner was excellent. Sitting in the front seats, Lepski was aware of the noise the youngsters were making, but it didn’t put him off his food.
After brandy, Lepski stretched out.
“This is the life,” he said, patting Carroll’s hand, and went to sleep.
After a hearty breakfast, Lepski began to take interest in his surroundings. The hostess told him that they would be arriving over Paris in two hours. She gave him a radio-telegram which read: