The Turing Option

“What about non-American carriers?” Shelly asked, and Brian nodded agreement. Safely out of the States they were in no hurry to return, however briefly. In the end they settled for MexAir to Havana, Cuba, with an Aeroflot Tupelov leaving three hours later for Shannon. The tickets were priced in pesos, but the agent called the bank for the current rate of exchange.

“Let’s hold on to the cash,” Shelly said. “We’re going to need it. Use my credit card instead.”

“They’ll track you down.”

“Like the phone — I’ll be long gone.”

“Cash or credit card, both okay,” the agent said, and pulled over the booking form. “American passports?”

“One. The other is Irish.”

“That will be fine. This will only take a few moments.” The computer link checked the credit card account, booked the seats and printed the tickets. “I hope you enjoy your flight.”

“I hope so too,” Brian said when they were back in the street. The query about their passports was a depressing reminder that they were going to have to pass through customs. The travel books had been quite clear about this and he knew he faced trouble. He hoped he could avoid it by what was called the mordida. He would soon find out.

“I’m cold and wet,” Shelly said. “Do we have time to buy a raincoat — maybe a sweater?”

He looked at his watch. “A good idea. More than enough time before we have to be at the airport. Let’s try that department store.”

He bought two more shirts, underwear, a light jacket as well as the raincoat. Just the basic items that would fit into the carry-on bag. Shelly did far better than that, shopping so well that she had to buy another small suitcase. Back in the train station Brian dug out the stub, retrieved Sven and their bags, then took a cab to the airport.

There were no problems at the check-in counter. They watched Shelly’s bag and the crated MI move slowly away on the belt as the airline clerk tore out sheets from their tickets and stapled them to the boarding cards.

“Might I see your passports, please?”

This first hurdle was easy enough to get over. All she wanted to do was look at the first page to see if the passports were current and had not expired. She smiled and passed them back. Shelly went through security first. He followed, clutching his passport and boarding pass, putting his bag on the belt of the X-ray machine before he stepped through the archway next to it. The machine bleeped and the security guard turned to him with a dark and suspicious look.

He took the coins from his pocket, even undipped and removed his brass belt buckle and put that on the tray as well. Stepped back through the arch, which bleeped again.

Then Brian realized what was happening. The magnetic field detected metal — and electronic circuitry.

“My head,” he said, pointing at his ear. “An accident, an operation.” Not a computer — keep it simple. “I have a metal plate in my skull.”

The guard was most interested in this. He used the magnetic field hand detector, which only bleeped when it was near Brian’s head. No weapon there; he was waved through. Everyone was just doing their job.

Including the customs officer. He was a dark-skinned man with an elegant mustache. When Brian gave him his passport he flipped the pages slowly, went back and repeated the action. Looked up and frowned.

“I do not see the visa entry showing where you entered Mexico.”

“Are you sure? Can I see the passport again?” He pretended to look through it and, with the great fear that he was making a total fool of himself, slipped a hundred-dollar bill between the pages. It is one thing to read about bribes — another to really attempt bribery. He was sure he would be under arrest within moments.

“I didn’t know I needed one. We crossed the border by car. I didn’t know about a visa.”

He pushed the passport back and watched with horror as the officer opened it.

“These things happen,” the officer said. “Mistakes can be made. But you will need two visa stamps. One to enter the country, one to leave. If the lady is with you she will need two stamps as well.”

The man looked bored as he returned the passport unstamped. Brian flipped through its empty pages — empty of money as well as visas — then realized what was happening.

“Of course. Two stamps, not one. I understand.”

They both understood. Three more hundred-dollar bills went the way of the first; there were two thuds and he had the passport back. Shelly’s was treated in the same way. They were through and on their way!

“Did I see what I thought I saw?” Shelly hissed in his ear. “You are a crook, Brian Delaney.”

“I am as surprised as you are. Let’s find our gate and sit down. This kind of thing is not easy on the nerves.”