by R C Cameron
I then suggested how we could play the gang and deliver them to the authorities. The plan surprised my guests at first, it involved some technology aspects which they were unfamiliar with. At first they hesitated, but after further discussions, they believed it would work. Now we only had to put it into action.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AFTER MY GUESTS left last night, I cleaned up the yacht and reached for my OXs 40, the street name for Oxycontin 40mg. Having no official prescription and having avoided the pain management sessions, illegal drugs was the answer to my problem, at least for now. I wished it was temporary, but I didn’t know. I knew my back was still hurting and I needed medication to help me through the pain.
Sleep did not come easy, but the Oxycontin helped again. Both Jennifer and Damien questioned my strategy, the assumptions and predictions, and raised concerns that I had not thought about. These matters were turning in my head, unable to sleep. I got up, boiled a cup of tea and rechecked information I had discovered before our get-together. Everything was a green light still, and I retired back to bed, feeling relieved and after a while fell asleep.
I woke up around seven, and with fresh coffee in hand, prepared my day ahead. After breakfast, I listed activities and calls needed to get going. Events could not happen before others, some had dependents. My project planning 101 courses would help, happy I did not skip these classes.
One of my plan’s key ingredient involved stopping orders coming into the gang’s website, cutting their source of revenues. If no orders came in, no money flowed in either. Hank would know tricks on how to achieve this venture. He was my first contact today. Once I explained what I was looking for, he said: “Easy.” My next question was how much time until they felt the impact of the site not operational? “At once,” was his response. I told him to prepare and wait for my signal. I would give him a one hour notice.
The plan consisted of attracting all major players to one place. If the drug orders stopped coming in, I hoped top management would step in and rush to their main operation site to the rescue, like the cavalry. Nelson would precipitate himself at the first sign of trouble. But the main catch would be Steiner. The man I believed ran the entire operation, had another important quality: the FBI wanted him.
To organize an assault on their operation in Marathon, I needed eyes-on-target. Jennifer had singled out two houses on 92nd Street. While I examined satellite imagery of the area, I noticed they were sitting on land extending into the sea resulting in both houses surrounded by water on three sides. The fourth side was the street itself providing access. A brick wall and a metallic fence further isolated its inhabitants. It reminded me of medieval castles with a moat all around and a single drawbridge to access well-protected grounds.
Another decision had to be taken: should we observe them from the land or the sea? To keep an eye on the ins and outs of the 92nd street property, I could station my yacht on water, far enough, and watch with binoculars. Close to the city, my phone and Internet access would still work. A second choice was to park some kind of vehicle on the street behind the houses and watch from that viewpoint. Positioned there, I would be a sitting duck. This option was not tempting. The sea won the debate.
Steiner was the unknown in my plan. Pretty certain Nelson and his bodyguards would show up when the website stopped its operations, Steiner remained a complete mystery to me. His captain’s job could take him anywhere, far from Marathon. We should spring the trap when we have a high certitude he’ll be around. And to do that, we had to follow Ocean Dancer and hope he was on it.
Confident the ship’s AIS system was in operation, I connected to the website, and entered 'Ocean Dancer' in the search field. A few seconds later, a new page appeared. Based on the map, the ship navigated in the Bahamas region. Other trip data showed the destination to be “BS NAS” which I decoded as Nassau, Bahamas. I must have Steiner in Marathon, or at least in South Florida, before triggering the plan. But was Steiner on that vessel? How could I make sure?
One way was to repeat the intrusion at Yacht Charter of Miami a few weeks ago, and find his current and future work assignments. But that included a real element of risk. It worked once, would it work again? For all I know, a new security system could have been installed if my illegal entry was discovered. No, I needed a different way to get Steiner's position.
An idea slowly developed and I speed-dialed Jennifer. After thanking me again for a great evening last night, I countered: “I need a female assistant to make an inquiry.”
After spelling out the reasons for my call, I presented her with a general scenario which she could adapt. Later, when she called back, she described her intervention in all its glory details.
“Good morning, Yacht Charter of Miami. How can I assist you?”
“Good morning, my name is Susan Moody, I’m Mr. Nelson’s new assistant from the Black Cat bar. Mr. Nelson would like to book Ocean Dancer with Mr. Scott at the helm for a two days' sail to Marathon on April 18 and 19th of this week.”
“Let me check the calendar, hum..., that yacht is not available on those days, I'm sorry.”
“Can we get Mr. Scott with a different yacht, is it possible?”
“Mr. Scott is leaving with Ocean Dancer today and won’t be available until next week.”
“That is unfortunate, we may have to change the dates. I will have to call you again.”
Bingo. She located both the famous yacht and Steiner himself with a single telephone call.
My next call was to Barry Gilmore, at FBI headquarters.
“Hello.”
“Barry, it’s Jason. I believe I will be able to deliver Bruce Steiner’s location in a few days.”
“No kidding, where?”
“I don’t know today, but soon I’ll know. I expect him to show up in one of three places.”
“In Florida?”
“I believe so.”
“You know the drill Jason, you have to notify the local office first. If they need to intervene quickly, only our local boys could do it. Let me get you a contact name and a number, start there.”
“Fine, one more thing. The gang I’m following operate an electronic commerce system. It would be helpful to determine where the revenues are going to. Do you think you can help me?”
“That’s probably embedded into their own systems, I doubt I can help with this. I am also pretty busy in Washington these days, Jason. I would love to go down and help, the warmer weather would be good as well, but I can’t.”
“It’s OK, don’t worry about it, buddy, maybe some other time,” I answered.
“I may not be able to help you, but I know who could. The FBI field office near Miami now has a new digital forensic team and the leader is a good friend of mine. I’ll send you his contact information later today, but first, I will tell him to expect a call from you on this case. How is that?”
“That’s perfect my friend. I can’t thank you enough.” I set my phone on the table. Pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling in place.
Over the next few days, the maritime traffic application ran continuously on my laptop. I followed Ocean Dancer first sailing to Nassau, staying in port awhile, and then eventually getting underway, I was hoping, towards Miami Beach, or better even, Marathon.
On Thursday morning, when I verified the status of Steiner’s ship, I discovered it left for Miami at 7:24 that morning. At a reasonable cruising speed, we could expect an arrival around 7 PM tonight. I prepared PRIVATE EYE and set sail for Marathon once more.
(--)
On my way down to the Keys, I called Jennifer and recommended to once again get a tail on Yang Nelson and to be careful. Thursday, she would certainly find him at the Black Cat, normally an active day. In my estimate, Steiner should arrive early evening, but I intended to bring down the drug website way before. This way, their technical crews would have time to study the situation and signal the problem to their bosses. Jennifer planned to go by the beach first to locate Nelson, otherwise, she w
ould just walk into Nelson’s bar. She was a stranger to him at this point.
Around 11 AM, I instructed Hank to stop all website operations. No more orders placed, vitamins or painkillers. No payments would flow in either, the flow of money had to stop. The site should be inoperable as of that time and for a foreseeable future, pending further instructions. He was ready to proceed.
My floating journey should have me arriving in Marathon close to 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Their money-making machine would have been down for a few hours with their technical team working hard to locate the problem’s cause. Hank had informed me people trying to access the site would not receive any response. Restarting either the user computer or the website would not resolve the issue either. The affected users would have to turn to other sources of procurement but the Nelson website could not supply them today.
During my six-hour trip, I had plenty of time to study maritime maps of the area. Between the houses sitting at the end of 92nd Street and the ocean were the muddy and shallow waters of Marathon Shores. It was impossible for PRIVATE EYE to maneuver in all safety in this environment with its almost four-foot draft. But the maps also showed private channels created to allow boats to reach the ocean from canals on the island.
Once in Marathon, I navigated through one of these channels and positioned my yacht about half a mile away from the two houses. It was tight, but I made it without scraping the bottom. I set up a few rods for effects, showing to anyone looking my way, I was here for the sport. A few fishing boats were already floating around. I then installed long-range binoculars on a tripod near the flybridge’s pilot station. The rented equipment provided a clear frontal view of both houses plus the main gate where I now noticed a man walking close to the front gate. Was he guarding the place? Quite possible.
My phone rang, I recognized Jennifer’s number.
“Yes.”
“Hi Jason, I’m having a drink with Damien at the Black Cat, I stepped out to give you an update.”
“So.”
“Nelson was behind the bar when we arrived this afternoon. Someone called him in the back office later, another gentleman replaced him up front. It’s been a while now, like he’s stuck in there.”
“Someone must have informed Nelson of the situation, it's obvious. As of one o'clock today, no new orders are coming through.”
"What do you think he'll do?"
“Not understanding the technology behind his website operation, Jennifer, he will argue with his technician on how come they have not solved the problem yet. He can imagine him saying: don’t let me come down there, it will not be pretty.”
“It’s possible. Hold on.”
The phone went silent for about 10 seconds.
“He just passed in front of me, Jason. Nelson came out with a young lady I’ve never seen. He didn't even look at me. They’re walking down the street. Wait, they’re getting into a white Mercedes convertible. And now they’re gone.”
“That’s fine, we expected that. Could she be Nelson’s girlfriend, Sun My?”
“Possible, I never saw her.”
“If the drug orders are not coming in, neither are the vitamins. It preoccupies both of them. It sort of confirms the drugs and vitamines businesses are pretty much connected, no ?”
“Makes sense, what shall I do now?”
“OK. Drive Damien home and then come to Marathon with your equipment. Move to the south end of 96th Street and then call me back. You should be here between 5 and 6 PM according to my calculations. I will pick you up with the dinghy. Park your car close by, we may need it later.”
“Fine, captain. You have something to eat on your tub?”
“Yes, plenty of food and you’ll have your own private VIP suite.”
“Fine, see you in a few.”
I took another look at the compound. No changes were visible, the guard still on duty. If my calculations were right, Nelson would arrive around 5 PM, Jennifer about 30 minutes later. The timing was perfect; I needed to prepare a few calls until then. In preparation of Jennifer’s arrival, I lowered the tender from the flybridge and tied it to the back, ready to go operational when needed.
Back at my post, I continued to look at the compound. According to Jennifer, the two-house complex looked to have one house for operations, by the sea, while the second one was the living quarters, in between them, a parking with two small trucks. Beside the guard, there was no movement from either house. All doors were closed, no personnel outside except the lone guard who kept walking back and forth, at a speed better suited for a funeral.
He turned his head toward the entrance and hurried over. A white Mercedes arrived at the gate. Next, the dual swing driveway gate opened and the white car sped up towards the operation center. I zoomed in on the new arrival just in time to watch two car doors fly open. I recognized the driver as no other than Yang Nelson, and I assumed his girlfriend was the passenger, although I have never seen her. Someone had locked the front door because Nelson and company had to wait a good minute before it opened and the couple rushed in.
I could imagine the shouting occurring inside. The money-machine had stopped working.
Someone exited the same house with a plastic container in hand. He walked to the black panel truck and departed. These may be the few orders the gang received this morning. I backed up from the binoculars, happy the plan was moving along.
(--)
When my phone vibrated later, I recognize Jennifer’s number.
“Just in time,” I said.
“Hi Jason, just arrived. Do I need to swim out to reach you?”
“Hold on, your carriage is on its way.”
When we returned, I directed Jennifer to her quarters. She had a small bag with her, perfect; it was a small cabin. I maneuvered our floating house to another location, farther away but still within range for my binoculars. Fishing rods still in place, I wanted to look like a regular fishing vessel although my yacht was big for this area.
“Nelson is still on site?” she asked.
“Yes, nobody left this afternoon, his white Mercedes is still in the courtyard.”
“And our plans for tomorrow?”
“We have an 8 AM meeting with Sheriff McBain of the Monroe Sheriff’s office. Our job will be to convince him this group represents a real threat to his region, and he needs to move right now to raid the property while Nelson and his girlfriend are still there. You brought the evidence as I asked you?”
“In my travel bag.”
“Perfect, let me get you a drink first. I will serve dinner in only an hour. Let’s try to get a good night's sleep, we'll need all our full energy.”
During the evening, we reviewed our presentation to McBain developed to convince him. We needed to show enough reasons for the Sheriff’s office to raid and search the premises. It would not be easy, I had to ask JR to put up a good word for me to arrange the meeting.
(--)
Jennifer and I were up early, a good breakfast in our stomach, the second cup of coffee in hand. My back did not hurt this morning after a good night’s sleep, so I skipped my daily medication but I put a pill in my pocket, just in case.
We waited outside Monroe’s Sheriff's office for a crucial meeting about our investigation. The weather promised to be below average as dark clouds rolled over the seven small islands forming the city of Marathon. At our appointed time, we entered and asked to see the Sheriff. We walked up to his third-floor office and an elderly assistant asked us to wait, the Sheriff would be with us in a minute.
McBain’s office door opened, and he came out, wearing a somber face. An 8 o’clock meeting with a pair of private investigators was not on top of his fun list of activities. He looked like a Christian being led to the arena.
He walked right in front of us, and we assumed we had to follow. He led us to a small conference room. His assistant trailed behind and asked if we wanted coffee or water. We already had a cup in hand, so we thanked her. The Sheriff requested nothing, a ma
n in a hurry I concluded.
I took to the floor, not wanting him to tell me he only had a few minutes to spare.
“Thanks for seeing us Sheriff McBain, we’ll be as quick as possible, we’re aware you have an important department to run.”
Not wanting him to interrupt me, I continued.
“Jennifer Jones is like me, a former FBI agent and together, we have been searching for a missing person by the name of Mark Taylor, as I informed you before. Your staff was helpful in locating possible missing person cases in the area, but none matched our subject.”
The Sheriff leaned his head on his left hand, his elbow supported by his chair. He already looked bored. I had to revive his interest not to lose his attention.
“We believe there is a drug manufacturing and distribution business right here in Marathon.”
He leaned in and asked, “Are you positive?”
“Let me fill you in on the details first. Mark Taylor’s last workday occurred on a night shift at the Black Cat bar in Miami Beach. It’s a well-known fact in Miami this bar is involved in drug distribution. Afterward, he traveled south with two Asians, we call them Laurel and Hardy, a big one, a small one and they’re always seen together.”
“Taylor stayed in a local motel and had drinks at a nearby bar. His credit card transactions prove it. We detected no more financial activities after that weekend. Our search for clues had us locate Mark’s friends in Miami Beach where Laurel and Hardy murdered an old man on my yacht. I was the intended target, they made a deadly mistake. The Miami police are working on the murder case, they informed me the suspects injected pure fentanyl into the victim. He had no chance.”
“So far, there are no criminal activities in Monroe County.”
“We’re getting there, sir. The Asians and their boss, travel to Marathon regularly. We believe it’s to both deliver manufacturing ingredients and pick up finished goods. When we tailed them one night, they captured me, but I escaped while they brought me back to Miami.”