by Margaret Kay
Three minutes later, Mother, from his concealed location watched Cummings pull himself to his feet. The first thing the man did was dial his phone. Mother hoped the pairing had been successful.
At the DEA monitoring location, the call was recorded.
“I was just mugged. Some asshole just walked away with my backpack,” Cummings said.
“The backpack? Are you fucking kidding me?” The male voice with the strong Mexican accent on the other end of the phone demanded.
“Yeah, the backpack.” He started walking back towards the parking lot.
“Did you get a look at this dead man?”
“No, he had on a mask, but the guy had a strong hillbilly accent. I don’t know who the fuck he could have been,” Cummings said.
“I’ll put feelers out. Do nothing until I contact you again.”
“Should we halt all operations?” Cummings asked as he reached his car. He looked around the vacant area.
“No, carry on. We may pick a new location for future deposits, but don’t stop your normal activities otherwise.”
“Okay,” Cummings said as he got in his car. He disconnected the call and turned the engine over. He drove straight home.
Later in the DEA monitoring location at the industrial park, the DEA team and the members of the Shepherd Security Team reconvened to review the events of the evening. They listened to the recorded call Cummings made after being mugged.
“So, he didn’t call the police and report the theft,” Cooper recapped.
“Nope,” Agent Chavez replied. “There was only one call after that to Cummings’s brother Marty. He relayed the events of the night to him, including the content of his phone call to our mystery man. The phone he called our mystery man on is a burner.”
“Figures,” Sherman remarked.
“Our digital team is trying to run down that burner phone,” Chavez said.
“I find it odd he didn’t call his wife,” Sloan said. “Did he head right home after that?”
“Yes, no more phone calls and no side trips.”
Lambchop pointed to the cash from the backpack sitting in neat piles on a nearby table. “Ten grand isn’t chump change. It seems to me he’d have more than two people to call if he lost that much cash.”
“We’ll be monitoring his phone all night,” Chavez said. “But I agree. I’d think he’d have to report that theft to more than the mystery man and Marty.”
“I’d sure like to get ears inside that house tomorrow morning when the family meets,” Cooper said.
“We’ve tried all of our external listening devices. I don’t know where in that house they meet, but we haven’t picked up jack shit,” Mills said.
“Sounds like we’ll have to plant a bug on one of them to bring in,” Lambchop suggested.
“That’s risky. If we can’t recover it after the fact and it’s found, we’ve just given ourselves away,” Mills answered.
“I’ve got the solution for that,” Cooper said. He pointed at Madison and smiled. “Junior Berelli has quite an eye for the ladies, I’ve noticed. We know what time the group arrives every morning. Junior is always the last one there and has to park on the street a house or two away. Madison can be out for her morning jog, in appropriate skimpy attire and bump right into him, planting the bug.”
“Nice, Cooper, whore me out,” Madison replied.
“What about getting it back off him?” Mills asked.
“They’re all usually there only a half hour. Madison could be making her way back from her run at that exact time and strike up a conversation with Junior, apologizing for nearly mowing him over earlier and get the bug back off him. I’m sure he won’t mind her hands on him,” Cooper said.
Sloan snickered. “Only you would be okay with that, Coop.”
“I believe in using each team member’s strengths to the fullest. If Junior liked guys, I’d send you in, Sloan.”
Cooper’s statement got a hearty chuckle out of everyone.
“I have to say I’m quite offended by that. You choose me of all team members to mug that guy and you wouldn’t pick me as the prettiest guy to tempt Junior if he was gay. I’m not sure what that says about how you feel about me,” Sherman said jokingly.
The laughter in response to Sherman’s words was even louder.
The plan for the following morning was concocted and the Shepherd Security personnel left for their hotel. If any action went down at the monitoring office overnight, Mills would call Cooper.
The next morning the team members were in position. Two blocks back from the Cummings house, Mother and the Birdman waited, watching for Junior Berelli. A block past it, Cooper and Madison waited for word that Junior was on his way. Across the street and midway down the block from the Cummings house, Lambchop and Sloan, in a local cable television provider’s truck, fiddled with the utility box there.
“The target is at our location,” the Birdman broadcast as Junior’s car drove past.
“Xena is on the move,” Cooper replied. “Heads up everyone.”
Madison flashed him a smile. The closest thing that would pass for a kiss while on duty. She exited the car and jogged back towards the Cummings’ house. As she neared, Junior Berelli arrived in his late model Toyota Camry. She adjusted her speed so she would intersect his path as he walked up the sidewalk.
As she neared, his eyes were glued to her chest, which bounced enough to catch any man’s gaze. She swerved to avoid a divot in the sidewalk and crashed right into him. They both went down. “Oh, my God! Are you okay?” She asked, her hands feeling over him as though she was checking his health. She slid the bug into the pocket of his jean jacket. “I’m so sorry. The pavement is cracked and loose there and I didn’t want to twist an ankle on it.”
Junior smiled suggestively. “I never mind a pretty woman on top of me.”
Madison giggled as she pulled herself to her feet. “Anyway, I am very sorry.” Then she jogged off in the direction she’d been heading.
“Damn, Xena, his eyes are burning a hole through your ass,” Sloan said. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble reacquiring his interest to remove the bug.”
And she didn’t. When Sloan and Lambchop notified everyone that the family was disbursing from the Cummings’ house, Madison got out of Mother and the Birdman’s car, which was moved up a block and just around the corner from Junior’s car. She jogged back around the corner as Junior neared his vehicle.
“Whoa, do I need to hop off this sidewalk?” He yelled to Madison as she approached.
She laughed and slowed as she neared him. “I am sorry about that. I don’t normally mow people over on my run.”
“You from around here? I’ve never seen you run the neighborhood before.”
“No, I’m in town visiting my cousin. She lives a few streets over.” Madison plastered a flirty look on her face. She drew one of her cards from the leg side pocket of her form fitting jogging pants and held it up. “I’ll be in town two more days.” She tucked the card into the same pocket of his jean jacket she’d stashed the bug, removing the bug as she withdrew her hand. “If you’re free, give me a call and we can grab a beer someplace.”
He removed the card and held it up. “Maddie Hayes. Nice to meet you. I’m Junior, Junior Berelli.” He reached his hand out to her. She grasped it and shook his hand. “I just may give you a call.”
She flashed him her best provocative smile. “You do that.” Then she turned and jogged back towards the car Cooper was in. She had to pass him and keep going until Junior drove past and was out of sight. Then she returned to Cooper and slid into the passenger seat. She held her phone up to Cooper. “He’ll call me before lunch.”
The team returned to the industrial park and the DEA base. They all were present when the recording was played. Ops and Shepherd were dialed in as well. From previous recordings, the DEA had the recording running through a program that identified who was speaking by flashing up the identified perps name and photo as different
voices spoke.
“I was mugged last night doing a drop,” Troy Cummings began. “Gomez was not happy. We owe him the ten large that was in that bag.”
“How the fuck did that happen?” Junior Berelli asked. “I told you one man making the drop was asinine. From now on, you’ve got two of us guarding you.”
“I agree,” Marty Cummings chimed in. “You’re lucky this hillbilly didn’t kill you.”
“Gomez said he’d put feelers out to try to figure out who this hillbilly was, if he was just a mugger or if he is working for someone else. I don’t buy random mugging,” Troy Cummings said. “So, we continue with business as usual until Gomez calls me with another drop point. Everyone needs to stay on alert even more so than usual.”
“I don’t know if I can keep doing this,” Diana Cummings said in what everyone could tell was a nervous voice.
“Relax, Diana. Take another Xanax or whatever the fuck it is you’re on these days,” Troy Cummings said.
“That’s easy for you to say. It’s not you that they have evidence on. I’m the one who could face the death penalty.”
“Yeah, and this whole family could go to jail for what we’re doing to keep your secret. You fucked up that night and we’re the ones paying for it,” Marty Cummings yelled.
“None of you had to get involved in this. You wanted the extra cash as much as everyone else, Marty. That offshore account was mighty tempting to everyone,” Diana Cummings yelled back.
“Speaking of which, I’ve disbursed last month’s deposit in that account to everyone’s individual accounts, gotta love the Cayman banking system. Keep your hands off it. We’ve almost satisfied our debt to the cartel. If they let us off the hook at the end of the year like Gomez said they would, we’re all free to tap into our funds, move to whatever tropical island we want, and be done with this mess.”
“That can’t come soon enough,” Isabel Mackey, a cousin, spoke up. “I am consumed with so much guilt every time I hear a news report about another overdose death.”
“Oh, stop the bleeding-heart crap,” Junior Berelli groused. “Those junkies make their own choices. No one’s holding a gun to their heads to use. I just may ask Gomez when this is over if I can keep working for them, as long as I can spend some of the money.”
“You’re a fool!” Diana charged. “The Juarez Cartel is nobody to fuck with. None of us would be involved if it weren’t for me and I am sorry about that every day. If they let us walk away from this, you’d be well advised to run as fast as you can.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Troy Cummings spoke up. “You all know what you’re supposed to do today. Diana will make her normal drop tonight at yoga. You all make your collections and get the shit back here this evening. But stay alert.”
“Wow!” The Birdman exclaimed when the recording ended.
“Juarez Cartel and Gomez,” Shepherd said. “We’ve heard those names before. Enrique Gomez is a high-ranking member of the Juarez Cartel.”
“Juan Carlos’ wife’s brother. Son of a bitch!” Cooper swore.
“I’ll loop Garcia back in. He won’t be happy,” Shepherd said. “At least we now know who we’re dealing with. I’ll have Ops and the digital group check into what Diana Cummings could possibly be referring to that she did that could get her the death penalty that Gomez is holding over them. Maine does not have the death penalty, so whatever it is, had to have happened in a different state. We’ll look into her out-of-state travel over the last six months.”
“Odd that he said they owed a debt that they were working off while still earning some money from it,” Lambchop said. “It’s almost as though the Juarez Cartel and Gomez, I don’t know, orchestrated whatever went down that night that Diana Cummings is referring to.”
Cooper nodded. “There is something very fishy about it.”
“If we can figure it out and prove that Gomez orchestrated whatever it is, maybe we can get Diana Cummings enough confidence to give it all up to us,” Madison said. “That woman is on the edge and I think would gladly spill it all just to ease her conscience, provided the death penalty is off the table.”
“I think jail will have to be off the table to make her give anything up,” Lambchop said. “There’s no reason to believe an otherwise law-abiding citizen would conceal something that I have to assume she’s done by accident and get herself and her entire family involved with moving what appears to be large quantities of drugs.”
“Agreed,” Shepherd chimed in. “New plan tonight. Miller, right before yoga is over you need to go into that lady’s room and search it. I’d be willing to bet my Silver Eagle you’ll find an identical black backpack hidden in there, waiting for Diana to leave hers. If that’s the case, you need to affix a hidden camera to get us a good look at who picks up the bag that Diana will leave in its place. And we don’t move on that person until we have some intel. It doesn’t sound like they’re about to dismantle their organization anytime soon. We’ve got some time. We’ll get the necessary warrants to allow the camera surveillance. We’ll do this by the book, so any evidence sticks.”
“We sure appreciate the help with this case. Your team has made more headway in the last four days than we have the last four weeks,” Mills said.
“Only because you laid the groundwork and did the initial investigation to get the intel we had to work with. We’re happy to help,” Cooper said.
They watched the members of the family as they had been, the remainder of that day. No one deviated from their established routine. Madison was one of the first women to sign in at that yoga class and pay her guest fee. This time she put her mat down close to the bathroom. She went in before class began and did a thorough search. There was a panel on the wainscoting beside the toilet that was loose. She slid the panel aside. There was a cavity there that would fit a backpack easily. It was empty. She sealed it back up and mounted the camera. If she was lucky, she’d get a shot of who would bring the bag in, in addition to who would remove the one Diana brought.
Shortly after class began, she saw who she assumed to be the owner of the studio enter the bathroom with a black backpack. She didn’t have it on her when she exited. Madison slipped back into the bathroom. She slid the panel aside and pulled the backpack out. The inside was loaded with pills. The bag had to weigh thirty pounds! She held the bag up so the contents could be seen by the camera and then she returned it to its hiding place and slid the panel shut. Then she flushed the toilet and returned to class.
At the temporary DEA HQ in the industrial park, the others, sans Cooper and Lambchop who each were in vehicles outside the yoga studio as backup for Madison, watched the live camera feed. Cooper and Lambchop were online via comms. Sloan gave a verbal blow by blow description of what the camera captured. They averted their gaze when any woman came in and was using the facilities, though Madison did a good job mounting the camera so very little nudity would be captured. Only DEA Agent Rochelle Chavez watched and let the men know when it was clear for them to again view the feed.
After class, Diana Cummings went into the bathroom. She slid the wainscoting panel open, removed the backpack within, opened it to check its contents, and then left her backpack in the void, sealing the panel back up. Madison was already out in the car with Cooper. They watched her leave the studio, walking directly to her parked car. Lambchop followed her at a safe distance, all the way to her driveway.
“I’d sure like to know what was in Diana’s backpack. I’m betting more money. Ten grand doesn’t seem to be enough for one day’s revenues,” Sloan remarked.
“Yeah, and she picked up product. It stands to reason she’d be leaving payment,” Cooper chimed in.
“We’re running the woman down who left the pills. She’s not the owner of the studio, she’s the manager, Juanita Alvarez. No record, looks clean,” Rochelle Chavez reported.
“Well, we all know she isn’t. Are you still online, Big Bear?” Cooper asked.
“Affirmative,” Shepherd replied. “We
’re on her. We’ll take over, looking into her, Agent Chavez.”
“I’m not sure how you have better tools than we do, but we will gladly accept the help.”
The digital recon team at the Shepherd Security Building stayed up all night. The team on the ground in Maine, slept. At zero-five-hundred, Cooper and Lambchop were woken by a call from Garcia. His voice showed mass quantities of caffeine had been consumed by him throughout the night.
“Get the team on speaker,” Garcia said.
Lambchop reached beside him and thumped Mother awake. Then he yelled to the other bed, to wake Sloan and Sherman. Neither man answered. They both had earplugs in to muffle their roommate’s snoring. Mother got up and shook them both awake as he turned the bedside light on. The two men came awake fast and removed their earplugs.