by Tom Haase
“Ramon, my friend, you look like shit. What's wrong?” He could not afford to change anything in their ordinary dealings. He strove not to give any signal of something amiss in their relationship. He desperately wanted to keep his imminent betrayal hidden from Ramon's sight.
“Everything I have tried has gone south. I’m out of product and the distributors are demanding more, or they’ll have my head. The attack on McGregor’s house failed, and now the police put out they have all the drugs.” Eddie didn’t mention that he had to turn the drugs in with the press coverage and couldn’t get them to Ramon as he implied he would. He walked around a table and then did it again before Eddie stuck out his arm to stop him.
“I know I promised to get them to you, but the press tied my hands when they caught me taking them from the house. Now for the good news, things aren’t as bad as you might think. I’ve found out something that might help us get this business going. I want my five percent, and as of now that’s zero percent,” Eddie said.
“What have you got up your sleeve?”
“Well, I learned that McGregor kept a large part of the shipment at his house and didn’t turn it over when I confronted him. We know what was supposed to be in the package and he only turned over about half of it. A source told me the actual size of the shipment, so he only handed over half of the heroin. I believe my old friend intends to establish his own distribution system with the goods he confiscated, assuming no one is looking for them after he turned what we considered all there was into the police.”
“You’re kidding. The bastard has a stash worth a million?”
“That’s what I suspect. I can’t prove it, but it makes sense if the reports I received from my sources are accurate. If they are, then the quantity we recovered is only half of the shipment that ended up in his house.”
Ramon’s eyes glowed with anticipation of the actions he now calculated. The man was reaching for a lifeline and Eddie had offered him one. A disingenuous one, but a line, one he thought Ramon would grab.
“Miguel, get in here,” Ramon shouted to one of his men.
“What are you going to do?” Eddie asked.
“Do you know where this McGregor is now?”
“Yesterday, he told me he would reposition his new boat this morning. So he should be back to his place by noon. It’s eleven now.”
“I’m going to get rid of him,” Ramon said with hatred oozing from his every word. “Then we’ll recover the drugs.”
“I’m leaving before I learn any more. I’m still a cop and don’t want to listen.” He meandered toward the door of the small house on 71st Street. He walked away and moved slow enough to hear the orders he knew would follow.
“Go to the place where McGregor lives. The same place we went to the other night. He’s out on the river and will return soon. Take him out. Then we’ll have access to everything he has in the house, and we’ll get the drugs.”
“Okay, boss. I’ll get my rifle and be there in twenty minutes. I’ll call you when it’s done,” Miguel said. He picked up an M-16 and departed right behind Eddie.
Eddie headed back to the police headquarters. There was a meeting with Emma for later that afternoon. She called this morning and said she wished to speak with him. He recognized it would be about the drug trade, but before that happened, he must focus on the matter of Chuck and the impending attack on him.
He didn’t want his friend to get killed, but there was nothing he could do now to stop the chain of events Ramon initiated. If he called Chuck, he would have to explain how he learned an attack was imminent. He had no viable story to support such a call, and at this point, hoped Chuck could deal with the situation when it occurred.
He wanted him to survive the attack by Ramon’s man. If he did, there would be no stopping him from dispensing retribution on whoever tried to kill him. Eddie planned on helping him in that effort, assuming McGregor survived the next hour.
Somehow, he had faith Chuck would. The man had nine lives. His plan would fail if Chuck McGregor died.
23
Chuck placed his arm on Darlene’s shoulder and pulled her over to kiss her. As their lips were about to meet, Murphy plowed his way in between them and stuck his head between their entangled arms. Darlene began to laugh, and Chuck joined in.
“That dog is something else. He doesn’t want me to be the center of your affections, only his little black butt,” she said as she gently pulled Murphy back and leaned in again to continue with their kiss. Then Murphy began his barking.
“I believe he’s just jealous,” Chuck said. “We are almost back to my place. It’ll only take a minute to put him ashore, and then we’ll take off for downtown.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Darlene said. As the boat approached his warehouse, he slowed the vessel to wake speed near the door to the inside dock area. Chuck picked up the remote and clicked the button, and the door rose.
“I'll get the line secured,” she said. She reached over in front of Chuck to the side rail to slide across ahead of him. By doing so, she would be in a better position for grabbing the rails inside the boat dock.
As her hand reached his shoulder, she pulled herself up and began to cross over him, and that was when her head exploded. Her blood sprayed right into his face. Brain matter and blood splattered over his chest. The sound of more gunfire filled the air as bullets ripped into the boat. Murphy barked wildly and jumped into the water. Chuck pushed Darlene’s body from his chest where it had collapsed, then killed the engine, and grabbed for the Glock he kept under the dash.
He spotted a man standing beside his warehouse. In a smooth motion he reached above the windscreen and unloaded an entire magazine at his target. The attacker ducked back behind the edge of the building with the fusillade of bullets hitting near him. When the slide on the weapon slammed open, Chuck rolled over the side of the boat. Bullets hit the surrounding water, but he swam underwater and back under the boat. He stayed under until he estimated he’d reached the far side of the next warehouse. His lungs felt as if they were on fire and while he breast stroked as fast as he could, he exhaled in small amounts to make his air last. When he surfaced, he made sure only his head emerged and used his arms to keep the rest of his body under water.
The backside of the warehouse touched the water only twenty feet away, and he silently submerged again to go the distance underwater. When his hand felt the structure of the building, which extended to the waterline, he moved to the side until he felt the corner. Using both hands, he forced his body around the corner and pulled himself onto dry ground. He heard the report of a single shot when it hit the water. The man still looked for him in the area where he had disappeared.
Chuck gained his footing, and he took a few seconds to get upright before he rushed to the street. He glanced sideways, but he noticed a car speeding away from his place and taking the corner at high speed. He looked ahead as he rounded the edge of his building running as fast as he could and sprinted for the front of his place. At full speed, he kept propelling his feet forward and turned the corner on the far side of his place. He would kill the bastard who murdered Darlene. Even without a gun, he had surprise on his side. He saw a man kneeling with the rifle against his shoulder ready to fire as he raced toward the man’s back. His target still searched the water near the entrance to his dock. The man must’ve assumed he had hit his target and the body would resurface to confirm the kill.
At his maximum running speed, Chuck plowed into the back of the man. The rifle went flying out into the river. The shooter reached for a weapon in a foot holster, but Chuck used the full force of his clenched fist to bang the man on the head. He bent down and retrieved the small automatic secured to the man’s leg.
“Who ordered you to do this?” Chuck demanded with a blow to the man’s face. “Who?” he repeated, turning the man over and jerking him up by the collar. When he received no response, he put the gun to the man’s temple and cocked it. “One more chance.”
The ma
n whispered, “Ramon.” The shooter then used his free hand to pull a blade from his pocket and swing at Chuck’s face. With instant reflexes, Chuck moved enough to let the knife pass before his face. Chuck grabbed the man’s arm while the knifeman grabbed Chuck by his shirt and pulled him forward. They tumbled into the river.
Chuck recognized he was in the fight for his life. The man had already killed Darlene and would not hesitate to kill him. This was a fight to the death. Chuck’s military training kicked into high gear. He had taken a good breath before they plunged into the water and now Chuck pulled his assailant down. He did not want to give the man a chance to get a breath. Chuck felt the man trying to wrest free his hand holding the knife.
After what Chuck took to be about half a minute, the man wanted to head to the surface. He pointed his fingers upward signaling he wanted Chuck to pull him up to get air. Chuck outweighed the man by a good forty pounds and used his weight to pull the shooter lower into the water. Chuck saw the man as he panicked from lack of air. He wrenched the knife free from the man’s hand. He latched on to it as it came out of the man’s hand. In one continuous movement, he plunged the blade into the neck of his attacker.
This one would not see a trial for murder. He would be dead in a minute. Chuck didn’t let him go until he estimated the man had expired. Then he surfaced, pulling the dead man up with him. He struggled to pull the corpse up after he got himself back on dry land. At last, the remains of his attacker lay beside his house.
He looked and Murphy was running toward him. The dog didn’t seem to be any worse off for the swim in the river, and when Chuck bent to pet him, he got his hand licked.
He jumped back into the water, boarded his boat and after starting the engine, brought it into his dock. He gently eased Darlene’s body over into the passenger seat.
He grabbed his cell on the way to the boathouse door. There he let Murphy in and made the call to Lieutenant Gordon. Chuck listened as Eddie had a fit at what had happened to his friend at the hands of the drug gang. When the call finished, he walked back to his boat dock and viewed the remains of Darlene.
Chuck sat on the rails of the boat dock and waited on the police. She was so beautiful, and then an asshole put a bullet into her head. There was no forgiveness for such a crime.
“I’m going to make whoever ordered this pay.” He promised her departed spirit. “They are as good as dead.”
24
Chuck looked up when Eddie arrived. The cop had entered through the front door Chuck left wide open. The past ten minutes crept by in a blur of memories as he stared at the body of Darlene. The anger built as the minutes passed, but a plan failed to emerge in his mind on how to avenge her death. He believed it would in time, but now the time to grieve for her hit him. His vengeance would come later, and he would extract an enormous price for her murder.
“What the hell happened?” Eddie asked as he approached the boat dock inside the warehouse. He observed Chuck had maneuvered his boat inside. Outside he had already seen the corpse Chuck had pulled to the solid ground beside the warehouse. He assumed it was the body of whoever shot at Chuck and killed Darlene.
“The bastard who killed Darlene is outside. He’s on the ground with a knife as an extra tongue.”
“I saw him. Your boat looks pretty shot up,” Eddie said as he had surveyed the holes in the Chris-Craft.
“I need to know who Ramon is,” Chuck said when he rose to face Eddie. He could feel the blood rush to his head as he again contemplated revenge.
“Why Ramon? Where did you get that name? What do you want to uncover about him?”
“The man who attacked us gave me that name before he tried to kill me for the second time. That’s when we went into the river, and he didn’t come out alive.”
“We’ve received rumors of a Ramon in the drug trade here. Tell me everything as it happened for my report. Start at a time before you arrived here.”
Eddie took out a notebook and started to write as Chuck relayed the events as they had transpired. It took fifteen minutes with the questions Eddie threw at him. Then Eddie reviewed it for a second time to confirm he had the relevant facts.
“Do I understand you are formulating a plan for revenge on this Ramon character?” Eddie inquired when he put his notebook back in his pocket. “You don’t want to do that. Don’t take the law into your own hands. You’re not a vigilante. I’m here for that purpose. Let us handle this.”
“Sure, so you can bring Darlene back?” Chuck sneered as he said this, letting the sarcasm drip from his tongue.
“I know you. You will do something no matter what I say. Just be careful, my friend.”
“Eddie, please get me any information on this Ramon character. I’ll take it from there, and then you aren’t involved or even aware of any actions I’ll take.”
“Let me get fingerprints and photos of the guy you killed. You realize he could have been lying to you about Ramon,” Eddie speculated.
“Don’t think so. He believed I would kill him. The fear was real. I’ve seen it in the enemy’s eyes in Afghanistan.”
“I hear the coroner arriving and also our CSI guys. Got to go meet him. Stay here, and I’ll return when I can.”
Eddie went off, and Chuck took his last lingering look at Darlene. It took an hour, but in the end the coroner’s people carried her away to the morgue. Eddie returned and sat.
“Tell me what you have on this Ramon,” Chuck demanded.
“Not much. He’s a local distributor who appears to be muscling in to take over the drug and sex trade left open by the raid the police conducted with your help. You never did tell me what you did that night. Did you attack the headquarters of their organization?”
“I can’t remember.” Chuck smiled at Eddie while he said this. “Where can I find him?”
“Don’t know right now. Will tell you when I find out.”
Chuck dialed his cell.
“Emma, a drug dealer attacked me, and Darlene is dead. Before the attacker died, he told me the name of the man who sent him, a guy named Ramon. Eddie is here, and he says he’ll try to locate this person. Can you help with anything you might have on this Ramon? You understand this has to be a two-way street.”
“I appreciate your sympathy,” he said after a half minute listening to her condolences. “I’ll help you in the matter you requested, but I’m going to terminate this dirt bag and his gang. We better talk to the captain and get him read in. I still need to make a plan.” He ended the call after Emma again expressed her sympathy.
Eddie smiled as Chuck ended the call.
Miguel arrived to report to Ramon at his house on 71st Street.
“Did you kill him?”
“The woman got in the way of my shot. I hit her. The bullet may have hit him, but then he started firing at me with a pistol. I emptied my mag at him.”
“Is he dead?” demanded Ramon.
“I don’t know. I ran when he shot at me. He’s a good shot. I got out of there before he could get ashore and attack me. Besides, someone else drove up right after I shot at him. He was going toward to the river carrying a rifle as I ran away from there. I didn’t wait to see what happened then.”
25
Two days later, Emma stood before the Attorney General’s desk in Atlanta. Her boss had summoned her to get a report of what was happening in their interdiction of the drug trade in Savannah.
“I’ve been coordinating with the new head of drugs in their department, a Lieutenant Eddie Gordon. I met him before. He received the promotion after the last guy in that position turned out to be a mole for the human trafficking boys. He seems to be a straight shooter as far as I can tell. He’s asked me to come down there, as there have been significant developments in the drug area. He believes I can help him.” Emma stood at something less than attention and more than parade rest.
“I think that’s a good idea. We worked well with the police captain during your work to bring down that trafficking organization. I tal
ked to him recently, and I want to keep him in our loop. Go down there and see them and then give me a report,” the AG said.
“Yes, sir. The lieutenant will be cooperative. He informed me his captain ordered him to contact me,” she said. “Before I go, let me inform you our old friend Chuck McGregor called me and said he would accept my proposal for him to work with us unofficially in finding out about the drug trafficking there.”
“You ensure he won't be an official of any type. No badge, no authority to act on our behalf, and only provide us with information. Is that understood?” The AG stood to emphasize his seriousness.
“I have informed him of that. He knows our position and will give us actionable intelligence only. That's all I want him to do.”
“Make sure that’s what he does. I remember him being the Rambo type in the last takedown. Keep him under control.” The AG dismissed her.
Emma returned to her office and packed a few files and then headed for her car. The trip to Savannah took a good four hours. She would consider her course of action during the drive and expressly how she might keep Chuck under control. Of equal importance, she had no choice but to involve the captain on this, and he’d absolutely be angry if she did not inform him after she had Chuck on board, but being a little late was better than never.
In four and a half hours, she found out how pissed the captain in Savannah was when she told him of Chuck’s willingness to assist. The captain stood ramrod straight, salt and pepper hair, displaying a no-nonsense aura. Emma guessed him to be in his early fifties with penetrating gray eyes. She remembered he had served in the navy.
She thought by his demeanor after she told him about Chuck that he could have a heart attack. It took a good ten minutes for him to become calm and realize that having Chuck help might be a good thing. She thought it was because she had succeeded and he hadn’t managed to get McGregor to report directly to him. Another reason for the immediate anger could emanate from his deep suspicion that McGregor had gone too far in the police action against the sex traffickers. They had discovered the entire leadership of the organization dead, presumably killed when the police raided the brothels. McGregor had an alibi for the raids he had helped set up and coordinated. He said he and the NSA consultant were at his place during the time of the assaults.