Oliver waited until Jack had read the second page.
“You think this is from that little bird we keep hearing about?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Jack said. “And this little bird apparently still has some friends in Cuba.”
[ THREE ]
International Arrival Terminal
Miami International Airport
Miami, Florida
0645 7 February 1965
A zealous officer of the U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service, who Captain John S. Oliver had within three minutes of meeting decided was a chickenshit sonofabitch with the brains of a gnat, had delayed the return of Oliver and Lieutenant Jacques Portet into the land of their birth.
The INS officer, on inspecting their passports, had noticed they did not have an EXIT stamp indicating the time and date they had left the United States for a foreign nation. And here they were, returning from a foreign nation. Something, he concluded, was clearly amiss.
Captain Oliver had explained that he and Lieutenant Portet had left the United States on competent orders issued by the United States Department of the Army, which ordered them to proceed to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and such other places as duty required, and to travel by government and/or commercial air, rail, sea, and motor transport.
He produced copies of these orders and explained that he and Lieutenant Portet had departed the United States aboard a U.S. Army aircraft, in which case having one’s passport stamped was not required. He further explained that they had left the U.S. Army aircraft in Buenos Aires, Argentina, and were now returning, via commercial aircraft.
The INS officer’s position was that their passports did not bear an EXIT stamp, and here they were trying to get them stamped RETURNED. Something was clearly amiss, and he could not admit them under such circumstances without consulting superior authority.
That superior authority functionary was normally on duty until 6 A.M., but he had left a little early (it was then 5:25 A.M.) and it would be necessary to wait for his replacement to come on duty at 6 A.M. The INS officer was deaf to Captain Oliver’s plea that he and Lieutenant Portet were on an Eastern Airlines flight to Atlanta departing Miami at 0715, and if there was a delay, they were not going to be able to make it.
The INS superior authority functionary scheduled to go on duty at 6 A.M. had a little car trouble and did not make an appearance until 6:25 A.M.
When apprised of the situation, the INS superior authority functionary examined Captain Oliver’s and Lieutenant Portet’s orders and passports and quickly reached a decision.
“No problem,” he said. “Welcome home.”
Captain Oliver was perhaps a little distracted when he led Lieutenant Portet out of the Customs area into the terminal. He was intent on finding one of the “You Are Here” maps he knew were mounted on various pillars of the terminal concourse, so that he could determine where the hell he was, where the hell Eastern Airlines was, and maybe be lucky enough to get there in time to board the plane.
Finger on the “You Are Here” map, he paid absolutely no attention to the redheaded female who stepped up behind him—he did notice her perfume—until she spoke.
“Hey, there, soldier, looking for a good time?”
He turned to examine the redheaded female.
“I will be a sonofabitch,” he said.
“I know,” Liza Wood Oliver said, “but I married you anyway.”
When, perhaps ninety seconds later, he removed his face from Liza’s neck, he saw that Lieutenant Portet was similarly engaged with Mrs. Portet.
“Where’s Allan?” he asked.
“With Jack’s stepmother,” Liza said. “I didn’t want to wake him up this early.”
“What’s going on?”
“You’re on ten days’ leave, you and Jack,” Liza said. “Colonel Lowell arranged it. And called Marjorie and suggested we might like to meet you—”
“I’ve got to call Lowell,” Oliver blurted. “I’ve got something for him.”
“And it won’t wait?” Liza asked.
“Sometime today,” Jack said.
“—and we’re in Lowell’s house in Ocean Reef,” Liza said. “And driving that wonderful old Packard of his.”
“What’s that all about?”
“Halfway down here in Jack’s Jaguar, Marjorie and I realized that we now had husbands to ferry around, and we really should have taken my car.”
He laughed.
"I guess we’re not used to being married women,” Liza said. “I wonder why?”
[ FOUR ]
12 Surf Point Drive
The Ocean Reef Club
Key Largo, Florida
1005 7 February 1965
Oliver waited until Liza had closed the bathroom door and he heard the