Rescue

305 covered south Florida, at east from Miami to Key West. Dialing directory assistance there, I got the Miami number I wanted, marshaling my coins be sure I’d have enough as I pressed the buttons.
    The voice that answered said, “Las oficinas de Justo Vega,“ and then more I couldn’t follow.
    I shifted the receiver to my other ear. “I’m afraid I don’t speak Spanish.“

    “Oh,“ said the woman’s voice in lightly accented English. “That is all right. Can I help you?“
    “I’d like to speak to Justo, please.“
    “May I tell him who is calling?“
    “Tell him John Cuddy from Saigon.“
    “From.“
    “Saigon.“
    “Vietnam?“
    “Yes. On a pay phone.“
    “Please hold.“
    The next voice yanked me back, to the brittle clink of beer bottles on a bar and the dull clunk of black helmet liners on a desk top and the impossibly toylike sound of an M-16 the first time I heard one go off in Military Police Office Basic, all of us being trained in R.O.T.C. Basic with the older M-14s. “John, the hell you doing back in Vietnam ?“
    “I’m not, but I figured it was the easiest way to cut through the layers of insulation around a busy lawyer.“
    “Oh, man, you have not changed. Where you calling from?“
    “A pay phone in Boston, but I’m going to be in Miami, probably sometime tomorrow night, and I wanted to talk with you about some things.“
    “So talk.“
    “Not over the phone.“
    A pause. “You got some kind of trouble, John?“
    “Yes.“
    “Okay. I will have one of my men pick you up at the airport.“
    One of his men. “I have to rent a car, anyway, Justo. Just give me directions to your place.“
    “John, I... Believe me, it would be better for you, we have somebody come out, pick you up.“
    “Okay.“
    “You got your flight number and all with you there?“
    “No. Can I call you with it tomorrow?“ m
    “Tomorrow? Sure, sure. Just use this same number, leave the information with my secretary. We will have somebody at the gate in Miami to meet you, sign with your name on it and everything.“
    “Fine. Just one thing, Justo.“
    “Whatever you. need.“
    “My flight will be out of Washington, D.C., and the name on your sign should be ‘John Francis.’ “
    Another pause. “I understand.“
    And he said it as though he really did.
    The short man hung up his phone and stood to shake hands. “Thank you for waiting, sir.“
    “No problem.“
    “My name’s Bert.“
    “Bert, pleased to meet you. John Cuddy.“
    I sat in the chair next to his desk, posters on the wall behind him advertising the Caribbean and Cancun with well-oiled couples basking in the sun on colorful towels or walking hand-in-hand along the beach at sunset.
    Bert said, “This time of year, just everybody’s making their travel plans in advance for Thanksgiving.“
    “I understand.“
    “Is that what you need as well?“
    “No, I’m going to be flying tomorrow.“
    “Tomorrow? Well, then, we’d better get started. Where are you heading?“
    “Washington, D.C.“
    “Dulles or National?“
    “Which airport, you mean?“
    “Yes.“
    “Try National first.“
    “Okay. Time of day?“
    “Early morning.“
    “All right... “ He clacked at his computer terminal. “Let’s see... We have two choices, three if you’re going first-class.“
    I thought about it. John Francis might travel first-class, but John Cuddy wouldn’t. “Coach.“
    “Coach it is, then. Let’s see... How about eight a.m., arrives Washington/National at 9:29, give or take.“
    “Give or take?“
    “Busy airport.“
    “That’ll be fine.“
    “One-way or round-trip?“
    “Better make it one way. I’m not sure when I’ll be heading back.“
    “Will that be a charge, then?“
    “Yes.“ I handed him my own, real credit card.
    He began processing things. “You traveling on business or pleasure?“
    “I’m going to visit some people I used to know.“
    Bert frowned. “Used to know? Don’t you still know them?“
    I looked at him. “Not exactly.“

    “Hi, Nance.“
    She was waiting for me downstairs, just outside the Sheriff’s Department metal detector. It was easier that way, in case I was carrying a gun. Which I was.
    Nancy adjusted the shoulder strap of her briefcase on the saddle of her suit jacket and strode toward me.
    “John, is everything all right?“
    “Fine.“
    Her eyes searched mine, the smile a grim one. “Why don’t we just get some take-out, go to your place.“
    “We had take-out last