Minutes after the cargo plane had lifted off and headed towards the Caribbean, Jamie realized the flaw in his plan. He had chartered a cargo plane from his home town. It was something he had done frequently before and it was like a bright, neon sign that said to Section and the French, "Jamie Jacobs is here!" He grimaced at his own stupidity and thoughtlessness and made his way to the cockpit as soon as they attained cruising altitude. He had the captain divert to Cuba. He hoped that would delay the efforts of his pursuers.
The rest of the flight was, thankfully, uneventful. His mother and sister were silent and sullen. Jamie looked long and hard at the enchanted BMW X5 and Subaru. The cars were great assets to have, but, at the moment, they were millstones around his neck. He debated with himself over whether or not to ditch them or even have them flown elsewhere to throw the hounds off the scent.
Just before landing, he decided he would keep them. He needed any advantage he could get and, besides, the damage was already done. Everyone with two brain cells to rub together knew he had flown to Cuba. He needed to get creative and escape the island unnoticed in order to lose his pursuit. He decided to charter the plane to fly on a tour of South America, empty, in order to throw off the inevitable pursuit. He hired a new crew, one that wouldn't mind not being able to contact their loved ones for a week, and plotted out a path for them that would look like someone was trying to shake off pursuit while still staying within the bounds of the laws and regulations regarding air travel. As the plane was being fueled, Jamie felt good about his chances.
When he approached the passport control desk, he sensed that the man at the counter was malleable to large amounts of cash and was currently in need of some cash, for whatever reason. Just as Jamie smiled thinking the man was potentially the answer to his troubles, he sensed the man feel the same way about Jamie. Jamie handed over his passport and the man duly ran it through the machine. His mother and sister hanged back and waited.
Jamie sensed the man's pleasure at what the machine read, even though his face gave no indication of it. "Problems, officer," Jamie asked.
"Well, that depends," drawled the man in a thick, hispanic accent, "the machine reads you as a wanted criminal, but it could just be mistaken." Jamie bit back a grimace. He guessed Cyrus had his people flag the backup identities they had provided for Jamie and his family. "It is a bit old and temperamental, you know. Not like the shiny, new computers you use in America."
"Maybe it's something to do with the passport," Jamie offered. "May I rub it for good luck?" The official put Jamie's passport into his outstretched hand and Jamie discreetly placed a thousand dollars in fifties into it and handed it back. "Try it now!"
The official took the money, his jaw dropping at the amount, and palmed it. "Your passport seems to be in order, sir," he said.
"Thank you," Jamie said. "I'd really like it if I didn't have any such trouble with my passport in the future. Could you direct me to anyone that could help me with that?"
The official grinned as he caught the gist of Jamie's request. He told Jamie to be at a café tomorrow afternoon in order to meet a contact that would guide him to the people that could whip up a fake passport for him. Jamie grinned right back as he managed to follow the man's trail of thought. He felt happy at diverting more money to his brother in law, who was the guy that made the fake passports.
Jamie put more money into his mother's passport and told the official he needed to unload two cars from the cargo plane without anyone taking note of them. The trunks were full of guns and ammo, among other things, but Jamie didn't tell the man that. The most important part of his cargo plane diversion was that no one know there were two cars unloaded at the airport tonight. The official just nodded and made the necessary arrangements and used the opportunity to get more cash from Jamie. Jamie handed it over with a glad grin. They drove away from the airport while the plane took off to, hopefully, lead his pursuit on a wild goose chase around South America.
He took his sister and mother to a hotel and checked them all in. The girls took showers and then went downstairs to get something to eat, while Jamie went out. Time was of the essence and he needed to make arrangements to get them off the island as soon as possible. He wandered around Havana for a few hours until he recognized the street whose image he had seen in the official's mind for an instant. He found the house where the official's brother in law lived and kept the things needed to make passports. Jamie sat on the terrace of a cafe at the end of the street and staked the place out. He didn't want to have someone else make the new passports for him and his family as that would leave a trail for someone to follow.
He had brought his laptop and some of the programs his A.I. had sent him. His intention was to sneak into the house and make the new passports himself. He sat and sipped on non alcoholic drinks for an hour and a half. He took the time to enjoy the sunset. Just as the Sun had set, the official's brother in law left his house and walked down the street towards the cafe where Jamie was sitting. The man passed him and Jamie couldn't sense anything he was thinking. Jamie had no idea where the man was going or how long he was going to stay out of the house. He could also not glean any information on where the equipment was hidden or whether the house was empty or not.
Jamie heaved a great big sigh of disappointment. It seemed he could only read the thoughts that were first and foremost in a person's mind, like the official back at the airport that had vividly visualized his brother in law getting more money and giving him his cut. Jamie tossed some money on the table and got up. He slowly walked down the street and slipped into the house unnoticed.
The house itself was split into six apartments, all accessible by the central staircase. Jamie walked up to the doors on the ground floor and concentrated. After a few seconds, he could sense the apartments were occupied at the moment. He climbed the stairs and checked the apartments there. One was empty, his senses told him, so he focused his attention on the lock and made it open with a flick of his finger. He went in and closed the door behind himself.
He let his Jedi instincts guide him in his search of the apartment but felt nothing. He checked the underwear drawers and saw that they only contained women's underwear. Jamie winced and softly cursed at himself. He was in the wrong apartment. He went to the door and checked for any presence on the staircase. Feeling none, he exited the apartment and locked it with a flick of his finger.
On the top floor, he again sensed an empty apartment and flicked his fingers to undo the lock. He went in and quickly sensed what he was searching for. He found blank passports from many countries taped to the underside of every drawer in the apartment. In the bathroom, he found the machines and tools he'd need to forge a passport, cleverly concealed in holes behind the very large tiles on the wall.
Jamie wasted no time and got to work, guided by his Jedi instincts. He made canadian passports for the three of them and used his laptop, and the programs his A.I. had left him, to program the biometric chips properly. He stamped the passports to make it look like they had left from Canada. He left the date of departure empty with the idea that he'd fill it in when he figured out how to get off the island.
Once he was done, he put everything back where it belonged and left the house, wary of anyone's attention on him. When he turned off the street where the house was, he heaved a great big sigh of relief. The pressure of sneaking into someone's house, not knowing if they'd be back at any moment and always keeping an eye on the door, had left him a soaking wet, sweaty mess. His hands started shaking in relief. One half of his escape was completed, but now he needed to figure out how to leave Cuba without leaving a trace. His options consisted of either ship or airplane. "Well, ships aren't tracked on radar so much," he thought to himself.
He went down towards the harbor and found a crowded bar. He went in and downed a few shots of rum to steady his hands and nerves. After that, he leaned backwards against the bar and took a long, hard look at the patrons. Most were not hispanic, he realized, and they were leaving the bar with young, local women, intent on getting their fuck on. Jamie put two and two together and realized he was in a sailor friendly bar. He spent an hour looking around, trying to spot a ship's captain that might be amenable to a bit of honest smuggling.
Jamie spotted several men that gave off an air of authority amidst their groups of sailors. He paid special attention to them, determining that they were really captains of their respective ships. He tried his level best to get a sense of which one to approach, but not a one of them was dwelling on the possibility of smuggling, so he was plum out of luck. Jamie decided on a different tack. He turned to the bartender and asked him, "Where can I find out about ships' departures?"
The skinny barkeep smiled, revealing crooked, yellow teeth and said, "Right here, señor." He bent down and retrieved a shabby looking notebook. He flipped it open and Jamie saw that it contained the names of ships and their captains, arranged by dates of departure. "We keep a ledger so we know if any sailors plan to leave without paying." The barkeep laughed and Jamie laughed alongside him as he perused the list. He saw that a ukrainian ship was scheduled to depart early tomorrow morning. Jamie slid the barkeep another note and the man smiled and thanked him.
If there was any captain who could be persuaded to smuggle, it had to be someone from the ex-Soviet Union. Jamie couldn't speak a word of Russian, but he could tell who the Ukrainians were, just by listening. He sat down at their table and said, "Hi, guys! Who's captain Zaposhenko?"
The sailors shut up and looked at Jamie with suspicion and hostility. He sighed as he sensed their happy mood turn sour by his addition to the table. He raised a hand to get the barkeep's attention and called for another bottle of rum for the table. The sailors waited until they had gotten the bottle and he had paid for it, before they began to shove him away from the table. He could tell that they didn't want to cause any trouble by beating him up, but that they also didn't want to have anything to do with him.
