NEXT TIME I'LL CHECK THE TAGS!"
A Miguel Bain Encounter

By Di

It was Friday night and my plane had finally landed. All I wanted to do was get my luggage, grab a cab and get home. Dragging up the jetway I looked at my watch to see that, even if everything went perfectly from here on, I couldn't possibly get home until almost midnight.

The only good thing about these late night flights is that most travelers with any sense avoid them like the plague and the end result is a nearly empty terminal building. I stepped onto the moving sidewalk and settled in for the long ride to the baggage area. As the sidewalk came to an end, I roused myself from my semi-conscious state to see that the luggage had already been delivered to Baggage Area #3. In fact, there were only a couple of pieces left to be picked up. Apparently everyone else on the flight was just as anxious as I was to collect their belongings and get home.

Grabbing my bag from the baggage carousel, I pulled up the handle, tipped it on its wheels and headed for the taxi stands where three taxis were idling in the cold, fogging the night air with their exhaust. The driver of the first taxi quickly jumped out, asked where I was going and loaded my bag into the trunk. As I relaxed into the seat, I closed my eyes and drifted off.

Thirty minutes later, the taxi pulled into the driveway of my home. As the driver removed my bag from the trunk, I counted out the fare and tip, paid him and made my way to the front door. As usual, my arrival was met with grand fanfare as my thirteen year old "puppy" met me at the door with what appeared to be a grin on her face and a tail that was wagging at top speed. After scratching her ears and patting her head, we went for a quick walk around the block.

Once we were back in the house, I locked the doors, grabbed my bag and headed upstairs to my bedroom. Glancing at the bag I quickly decided that there was no way I was going to tackle unpacking tonight. I set it off to the side and crawled thankfully into bed where I promptly fell asleep without setting an alarm.

Waking up slowly the next morning, I took advantage of the fact that I didn't have anything special planned for the day, turned over and settled in for another half hour. Eventually self imposed guilt began to set in as I realized how late it was getting and I forced myself to throw back the blankets and begin the day.

After brushing my teeth, showering and pulling on some comfy sweats, I decided the first chore I would attack would be the laundry and started by sorting the clothes in the hamper. Once I had this sorted, I turned to the bag I had set off to the side the night before. Swinging it onto the bed, I quickly unzipped the zippers, flipped up the cover and stepped back to stare at the contents in a state of shock. Nothing looked familiar. But this had to be my bag! It was the only one like it left in the baggage area! A thousand thoughts ran through my head at the same time; "If this isn't my bag, whose is it? If I have their bag, who has mine? Why didn't I check the tags last night? Now what? Do I just take this back to the airport and hope whoever has mine did the same thing?"

Knowing I didn't want to make the long trip back out to the airport for nothing, I decided to call the "Lost and Found" at the airlines to see if anyone had returned my bag. As I sat on hold waiting for the "next available service representative", I began to remove items from the bag thinking I could probably find some clue as to the ownership of the items.

It was immediately obvious that the bag belonged to a man as I removed a black sports coat and slacks. Hanging up the phone, I began checking the pockets of the sports coat where I found a few dollars and a beeper. The pockets of the slacks were empty so I continued my search through the items remaining in the bag. Tucked inside one of the side pockets of the bag was a receipt with a name imprinted on it but no address, phone number or any other clue as to how I would begin to track down the owner.

About halfway through the bag I ran across a small leather notebook which had been tucked amongst the clothes. Thinking it might contain the owners business card or at least have his name and address printed inside, I flipped open the cover. Inside I found several pages which contained dates, names, and dollar amounts. Some of the names sounded familiar like I had either heard them mentioned on the news or read something about them in the newspaper recently. Each of the names had been crossed out with the exception of the last one which I recognized as one of the names I saw in our local news quite often. This person was reportedly connected with high level crime activity but had always been able to avoid the law. Even though he had been arrested several times, the police had never been able to make the charges stick. "Oh great," I thought, "I probably have some gambling bookie's bag and this is his customer list!" If that was the case, we were talking some serious gambling as most of the amounts listed were well above $500,000.

Just who was this "Miguel Bain" that was listed on the receipt anyway?

Nothing else in the bag provided any additional information and I made the decision that no matter who this bag belonged to, I didn't want to be in possession of it when Mr. Bain came looking for it. Just as I made the decision to drive the bag back to the airport, I heard my doorbell begin ringing rather insistently. Hurrying down the steps, I looked through the peephole right into the most the most beautiful set of amber eyes I had ever seen. As the man on the other side of the door backed slightly away from the door, I could see that the eyes were just the beginning - this guy was gorgeous!

Forgetting all I had been taught about being careful, I quickly unlocked and opened the door to greet this handsome visitor. Pushing open the storm door, I had to swallow hard before I could even ask, "Can I help you?"

"My name is Miguel Bain. I think you got my bag by mistake at the airport last night," he said in a silky Spanish accent. He grinned as he continued, "I found your name and address inside this bag and hoped that you had my bag since I had yours."

Staring into his eyes, I smiled and stuttered, "Yes, I think I do. I'll just run upstairs and bring it down!" All I could think of was that I had to hurry and get everything put back in the bag exactly as it was. Even though my motives were honorable, I still didn't want him to know that I had been rummaging through his belongings and I especially didn't want him to know that I had looked through the notebook. Even if I didn't know what all those names and dollar amounts meant, for some reason I just knew it was something that he didn't want anyone else to see. I left him standing outside the door as I turned and ran up the steps to my bedroom.

Starting with what I took out of the bag last, I quickly started repacking the items in the same order they had originally been packed. Just as I closed the notebook to return it to the bag, I heard someone clear their throat behind me. I spun around to see Miguel leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. So tell me, exactly what did you find when you went through my things? Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you have gotten yourself into digging through my notebook?"

Instantly defensive, I put on my best bravado voice and informed him that I had no intention of "digging through his notebook" as he called it and that I was simply looking for a name and address of where to return the bag.

While this exchange of words was taking place, I still held the notebook. Miguel quickly reached out and grabbed my wrist, snatching the book from my hand. His lip curled slightly as he released me and tucked the notebook into a pocket of the jacket he wore.

"You are going to forget that you ever saw this bag or this notebook. I was never here. Do you understand?" His eyes had turned cold and there was no doubt in my mind that he was serious. Apparently I was right when I decided that this guy wasn't someone to mess with.

The look in his eye made my words freeze in my throat. All I could do was nod. As he turned to throw the rest of his things back into the bag, I caught a glimpse of something metal tucked into his slacks under his jacket. I guess I'll never really know if it was a gun or my overactive imagination, but I wasn't taking any chances. I cowered in the corner until I heard the zippers close on the bag and he turned and stepped close enough to me so I could feel his breath on my face.

"It will serve you well to do as I told you. You will not call the police or tell anyone that I was here. I have many contacts and will know if you betray me. You will not want to see what happens to people who betray Miguel Bain."

Again I nodded as he grabbed my chin in his hand and forcibly kissed me. There was no tenderness in the kiss but it stunned me just the same. Suddenly he left the room, walked down the stairs and out the front door. I didn't move until I heard a high powered car engine roar to life and the squeal of tires as he sped down the street. As soon as I realized he was gone, my knees turned to water and I slowly slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.

I don't know how long I sat there but I remember thinking that even though I had been scared to death, that kiss was something I was never going to forget. No matter how much I told myself that this was crazy, the guy was dangerous, I still remembered how soft his lips were, his eyes, his smell, how my heart had pounded with more than fear.

When I finally got my thoughts grounded once again, I quickly went downstairs to shut and double lock the door, all the while remembering his promise to return if I told anyone about him or the notebook. Even though I took his threat seriously, I couldn't help thinking about the last name written in the notebook which hadn't been crossed off and wondering what connection Miguel had to this local lowlife.

The rest of my day passed in a haze as I attempted to force my life back into some type of normality. Eventually it was time for the late local newscast. I settled onto the couch, turned on the television and watched as the news anchors sprang to life.

"Topping our news tonight is the apparent shooting death of one of our cities most notorious crime figures," the anchor began. As he mentioned the name of the man shot down outside a local restaurant, I dropped the glass I had been holding and it crashed to the floor, spilling soda all over the carpet. The man who had been killed was the same man whose name was the last name listed in Miguel's notebook! The news anchor continued on to say that the police had no suspects and were asking for the public's help in finding the person responsible for the shooting.

My first thought was to pick up the phone and call the police, but, I quickly saw Miguel's eyes flash through my mind and recalled his final words to me as he left my house. There was no mistaking that he meant every word and would carry out his threat with no misgivings on his part.

I spent the rest of the night tossing and turning. My thoughts spun randomly between remembering the feel of the kiss to remembering the total fear his words had instilled in me. Sometime around dawn I finally dozed off only to be awakened a couple of hours later by the dog who was anxious to go outside.

Still groggy, I stumbled out of bed and threw on the sweats I had worn the day before. Hooking the dog to her leash, I slowly unlocked the doors and looked outside before leaving the house. As the dog danced around excitedly, I turned to relock all of the doors before starting our walk.

A couple of times in our journey around the block I thought I heard the same high powered car engine as the day before but each time I was able to convince myself I was only allowing my imagination to get the better of me. Ultimately we finished our walk and turned up the sidewalk to my front door.

As I reached to open the storm door, I saw a piece of paper tucked into the doorjamb. Hands trembling, I slowly pulled the paper loose, unfolded it and stared at the contents.

What I held in my hands was the last page of Miguel's notebook. Looking towards the last entry, I saw that the final name had now been crossed off.