[pshrynk]

Major Biggles stepped off the gangway onto Cuban soil. He felt rather confident in his ability to blend in with the population, having done some research in the library before getting on the steamer in Miami. The librarian had been quite helpful when he'd asked for modes of dress in those latin countries down south. He wasn't too certain why she had giggled so much, though. Must have been a very jolly young woman...

He retrieved his trunk and went through customs and immigration. He tried to just show his Diplomatic Passport, but for some reason, the Customs agents insisted on going through every single one of his posessions, piece by piece. He was getting very annoyed by all the attention, but he did not wish to blow his cover story.

"So," said the Agent, "Senor -- ah -- Beegleso -- what brings you to our country? Busines or pleasure?" The Agent looked as if he were having a hard time not laughing.

"El pleasuro, por favor!" Biggles was quite proud of himself for memorizing many parts of the phrase book on the journey down here. He felt that he would easily pass as a South American business man here to check on the sugar trade.

"Ah. Then you will have no extra money with you?" The Customs Agent had tried speaking Spanish at the ridiculous American, but had given it up as a lost cause very early.

"No!" At least the cerro could get that right.

Stifling a laugh, once again, he waved Biggles through the line. No way could someone that stupid cause any problems in the country!


Harv stood by the wall of the port, scanning potential patrons. He hoped to soon be able toget back to flying if he could just find the right sucker and or bankroll to get him up there. So, he hung around the port most days.

Out from the Customs Office came a pale white man dressed in Bermuda shorts, a white cotton collarless shirt, a serape, brown sock and sandals, with a gaudily colored Mexican Sombrero on his head. Harv decided he should follow this man. It would be amusing to watch what happened...