“YOU’RE SURE THIS WILL WORK?” Richard Johnson questioned his partner, Jose Peres. “I feel silly in this wig.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll put the oranges in your bag. When it goes through the X-ray, the guards will see it and ask to search the bag. While they’re occupied with you, I’ll slip through the gate with the stash. It’s that simple.” Jose explained.
“I still don’t get why I have to wear this wig.” Johnson lamented as he put it on.
“It’s to make us inconspicuous.” Jose looked at Richard, now dressed as a woman. “No one in this country would ever suspect Jose Peres to be anywhere with a woman as ugly as you.” He cackled. “Let’s go. We don’t want to miss the flight into Miami.”
“OK. I need to make a call first. You bring the car around.”
Johnson placed his bag on the belt to the x-ray. The guard picked it up and stopped him.
“Senorita, I need to inspect your bag.” He said. He motioned a few other guards over to secure the area.
He rifled through the bag for a moment. “Here they are. Do you know it is a serious crime to bring fruit from Cuba to the United States, Miss…”
“Martinez. Consuela Martinez, from Brooklyn, New York. I’ve been visiting my aunt. Here’s my passport. Ain’t I just a doll in this photo?” Johnson produced his phony passport given to him by Peres. The men looked and agreed she looked good, as far as passport photos go.
They did not notice Jose Peres slip through the gate with over a kilogram of cocaine.
“Anyway, I didn’t know it was a crime to bring back fruit. It was so good when I had it at my aunt’s house here that I wanted to take some home.” Consuela said. “You can take it out.”
The guard removed it and let her pass with a stern warning.
When the plane arrived in Miami, the Captain announced, “We have landed in sunny Miami. Thank you for choosing our airline. Passenger Jose Peres, please see the first class attendant when deplaning. Have a nice day.”
Peres approached the attendant. She said, “We have just been informed there is a car waiting for you. Please allow me to escort you.” She led him off the plane.
Standing near a black car was Consuela Martinez, surrounded by several armed men. She removed her wig and glasses, and produced a badge.
“Detective Richard Johnson, Federal Bureau of Investigations. You’re under arrest for international drug trafficking and conspiring with a federal officer. Sam, read him his rights.”
“You dirty rat, I shouldn’t have let you make that call.” Peres scowled.
“If you hadn’t called me ugly maybe I wouldn’t have,” Johnson grinned.