Red Tide

by W. Dale Justice

  “Thirty minutes. The locals called us. We have cars headed for that spot from all directions and cross roads. The woods are too thick. They’ll be on one of those roads.” The Trooper was interrupted by his radio, and listened intently.

  “Copy that.” He turned back to Chris. “We found the local officer cuffed in the back of his squad car. He has a bump on his head, but otherwise, he’s OK. He confirms he caught Simpson, after seeing Swagart run off into the woods. He was in the process of cuffing Simpson when someone hit him over the head. He woke up in his car. We found him a couple minutes ago.”

  “Thank God he’s OK.” Kate remarked.

  “Well, they didn’t take the police car, so they were on foot when they left the officer. Police vehicles converged on that spot from all possible roads connecting to it, so they are not on foot anymore.” NCIS Beth observed. The nice thing about an island is there are only so many ways you can get on, or off. Local teenagers who stole cars learned that lesson the hard way. “He probably carjacked some tourists.”

  “Which means he has hostages.” Thuy observed.

  “So they’re here.” Jimmy observed. “Any idea where we should look for them?”

  “We know exactly where they’re headed, a boatyard off the beaten path. NCIS colleagues interviewed Leroy a bit longer after we left. Seems Bobby Lee instructed Leroy to hire someone to sail his yacht down from Tampa last week. Apparently, Sherrod tagged along.” Chris answered. “We have local police sitting on the boat as we speak.”

  “Tell them to stay out of sight until they spot the fugitives. If they have hostages, this could go sideways quickly. We need to get back up out there pronto.” Beth spoke up.

  The minivan drove slowly through the heart of Key West, the streets packed with body painted half naked revelers, each carrying a mug or bottle of beer. “Not quite the PG rated paradise you thought, is it mom?” Bobby Lee asked the mother of the two children in the back seat. “What the hell were you thinking?” He faced forward, spying what he was looking for on the next block. “Pull over here, daddy.”

  The frightened father did as he was instructed, and pulled the van to the curb. “Put it in park.” Bobby Lee ordered. “Now this is the fun part, folks. I want ya’ll to get out of the van like nothin’s wrong. Mom, you take little Suzy-Q by the hand and get out first. Daddy, you get out next and stand on the sidewalk with your family. Little Johnny stays with us for two more blocks, then we’ll let him go. Anyone raises a ruckus, and we drive off with little Johnny. Got it?”

  “No! Give me my son!” The mother was frantic.

  “All in good time, missus. You wait quietly on the sidewalk until Little Johnny comes back to you. You raise a fuss and start hollering for the police, and he doesn’t come back. Understand?” Bobby Lee was cold hearted.

  “Robert! Do something! The mother frantically implored her husband to intervene.

  “Robert knows I will put a bullet between his eyes if he so much as sneezes, mom. You want that for your man? We have not robbed you, or molested you in any way. I have no interest in your snot nosed kid. All I want is to get away. You do as I ask, your son comes back to you in five minutes. We leave your van and suitcases untouched a few blocks away. Happy endings all around, with a hellava’ story to tell the folks back home. Now, what’s it going to be?”

  The mother reluctantly nodded once, and spoke to her 9-year old son. The boy started to cry, but nodded his head. Mom, dad and his little sister climbed out of the van to stand holding each other on the sidewalk. Bobby Lee climbed behind the wheel, leaving Sherrod in back with the boy.

  “Sherrod, close the door.” Bobby Lee ordered. As the sliding door closed, the mother made one last plea.

  “Make sure he knows which direction to walk.” Her last word was cut off by the closing door. The door cracked opened immediately, Sherrod sticking his head out. “I will.”

  “Close the fucking door, you idiot!” Bobby Lee drove away.

  The trembling family watched the van move off down the street, stopping at the next traffic light. It seemed an eternity until the light changed to green. The van moved off down the street. One block, then two, still visible, but barely. It pulled over to the curb. Still watching, waiting. There he was.

  “There he is, they let him go!” The mother raced towards her son two blocks down the street, her husband and daughter trailing behind her. So frantic was her race to reach her son, she never noticed the van turn right onto a side street.

  Bobby Lee drove one block, then turned right again for two blocks before pulling the van to the curb. Sherrod was appalled. “You drove right back to where we dropped that family off! Are you crazy?”

  “Like a fox, Sher ol’ son. Shut up and get out, and bring your suitcase.” Both men exited the van. Bobby Lee left the keys in the ignition, and the engine running. They were parked in front of a local bar, the polar opposite of the tourist bars and restaurants on the main drag through town. The people on the street here were of a rougher trade. Bobby Lee walked away from the minivan, leaving Sherrod no choice but to follow and try to catch up. At the next cross street, Bobby Lee stopped and looked to his right towards the main drag. A taxi stand was on the far side of the street, and another tourist bar in between the two fugitives and the main drag. The taxi stand was his destination. The bar was the kind of place with one foot in each world, trying to attract tourists, but not willing to cut ties with the locals. Perfect. Bobby Lee led Sherrod to the two faced bar, stopping on the sidewalk in front. In a quiet voice, he gave his instructions to Sherrod.

  “Listen up. I been to this town more times than I can count. Here’s how it’s going down.” He reached into his pocket and removed two burner phones, handing one to Sherrod, keeping the other.

  “That minivan is going to get stole within the next 15 minutes. It’s pointed north towards the road leading to the Overseas Highway and that toll booth. That family is about 30 seconds away from crying wolf, and the cops are going to be looking for you and me in that minivan. The cops will bust that van on sight. Hopefully, the thieves will try to make a run for it, and attract more police away from us.

  “You go into this bar with your suitcase, and have a drink to calm yourself. Don’t talk to anyone, just ignore anyone trying to make chit chat. Tell em’ you just got word your momma died. That’s a real buzz kill that’ll send em’ packing. I’ll call you when it’s clear to head to the boatyard.”

  “Bullshit! You’re going to leave me here to get caught! Sherrod argued.

  “Sher, I got about 10 million reasons NOT to leave you here. The cops are looking for the two of us together on the streets trying to get away. You get outta’ sight in a bar away from the recently kidnapped couple with kids, and chill. I’m going to check out my boat. The hair on the back a’ my neck is standin’ straight up. Them Feds mighta’ got to Leroy. If they did, then they know about the boatyard and my yacht.”

  “Oh.” Sherrod was so far out of his comfort-zone, he couldn’t remember which way was up. “You will call me, and come back for me?” He sounded like a little child.

  “Yes Sherrod, I will.” placating him. Now was not the time to bitch slap him, even though Bobby Lee desperately wanted to. Sherrod entered the bar, glancing over his shoulder with puppy dog eyes at Bobby Lee. Bobby Lee smiled, and gave a little wave.

  “Jesus H. Christ, what a pussy.” Bobby Lee muttered under his breath, and stomped down the street towards the taxi stand. “Probably squats on a toilet to take a piss.” He jay walked across the main street weaving between drunken tourists parading the streets during Fantasy Fest, opened the door to a cab and sat down. The cabby, enjoying the views on the street stuck his head in the driver’s window. “Where to, chief?”

  “Any fucking place but here.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I-77, Northwest of Brownsville, Texas

  Miguel was euphoric. The adrenalin high was better than when he had emerged from Hurricane Rita on the Texas side of the border wit
h a half a ton of cocaine years ago. Now, he had a ton of heroin bound for San Antonio. He raised his chin and let out a war whoop, pounding the dash with both fists. Beside him, Luis smiled broadly as he drove the ambulance northwest on I-77. It was uplifting, and frightening at the same time. Luis was happy as a lark.

  The ambulance was a virtual wreck. The windshield was cracked and shattered, with thousands of spider-like cracks from debris and shrapnel impacts. There were gaping holes in the roof, and the sides of the ambulance through which the wind whipped, letting in dust as they drove. The ambulance shook causing Luis to grip the wheel hard to maintain control. The dual rear tires had taken a beating. The outside rear tire on the driver’s side was completely gone, but the inner tire was OK. It threw the vehicle out of balance, but was still drivable.

  Luis’ driver side window was gone, blown out by the blast. The left side of his face was burned and bleeding, all the hair and his left eyebrow burned away. Yet, he smiled and nodded to Miguel, celebrating their victory at the crossing. Five of their comrades had been killed. Miguel and Luis thought of them with less regard than the chickens whose necks they wrung for last night’s dinner.

  “My old Sergeant thought he was better than me, treated me like a dog, said I kill too easily and too much. Today, I showed him what I can do. I am deadlier than Sergeant Snake will ever be.”

  “Yes, yes my friend. The Army had no appreciation for your skills and talents. They paid you peasant wages, and demanded you risk your life for them, kill for them, while your family starved. You were right to desert and come to the Cartel.” Miguel fed his ego, praising his desertion from the Army Special Forces to bring his deadly skills to the Cartel, and to Miguel. “We destroyed their helicopter, killed their soldiers, and broke their ambush. After today, you will be a legend!”

  “I will join your legend, Don Miguel.”

  The crippled ambulance began to shake violently, causing Luis to reduce his speed. Smoke rose from under the hood.

  “Find a place to hide. We need another truck. We cannot drive this wreck into San Antonio.” Miguel ordered.

  Sergeant Gonzales and Lieutenant Parrott surveyed the devastation, wounded and dead, and pondered what had gone wrong. The Mexican pilot and door gunner, along with an unlucky Marine in the fighting hole the crippled helicopter had crashed upon were dead, along with one Marine from the grenade attack. Four were wounded from grenade shrapnel, two seriously, two with minor wounds. Then there was the snake bitten Marine, who, without benefit of anti-venom would likely die. They had eight effective soldiers remaining under their combined command. As for the Miguel, he left behind six dead, two had escaped, and may or may not be wounded.

  The Marine helicopter intended to provide air support had not made it into the air in time to participate in the ambush. After the long flight from Galveston, and four hours of waiting, the pilot had shut down the engine to conserve fuel. When the Cartel attacked, the three minutes needed to cycle the engine and get the rotors up to speed to lift off meant the attackers were long gone when the ship was able to fly.

  “What now, Sergeant?” Lieutenant Parrott asked.

  “That is up to you, Lieutenant. I am a guest in your country. My commanding officer is on route with additional soldiers, but I doubt your country would appreciate them entering American territory to chase Mexican Cartel killers.” Hector desperately wanted to pursue Miguel, but was bound by international agreements respecting each county’s sovereign territory.

  “We need to see to our wounded before we do anything.” Lieutenant Parrot took the initiative. “Let’s get them loaded in the chopper, and head to San Antonio. We can leave two of your men to man the crossing on your side and two of mine on the American side. When your officer arrives, he can evacuate your dead, and decide how the border will be guarded. We will take your wounded and ours to a hospital San Antonio. I need to call a sitrep in to my commander.”

  “As do I, Lieutenant. It is a good plan. May I accompany my wounded on the flight to the hospital in San Antonio?”

  “Certainly, we would be honored to have you.”

  That was all the invitation Hector needed. He turned to his aide, gave the orders necessary, and motioned to his radio operator to join him. What he planned, prayed, and hoped for, was to spot Miguel’s ambulance on the road to San Antonio. One step at a time. This is not over. Hector made no sitrep call to his superiors.

  Key West, Florida

  Jimmy tapped the shoulder of NCIS Chris in the front passenger seat of the SUV to get his attention.

  “What assets do we have watching the exits? Jimmy asked.

  “We have local PD, TSA and Homeland Security watching Key West International. Local PD, NCIS agents and State Troopers are watching the boatyard and marinas. The Harbor Master of each marina have been provided descriptions and photographs, as well as local broadcast TV News.” Chris responded.

  “Anything new?” Jimmy asked.

  “Yes. A family from Ohio got carjacked out on the highway by two men fitting Swagart’s and Simpson’’s description. Forced the family to drive them into town. They dropped them off in the middle of the Fantasy Fest Parade, and drove off in the van, claiming they would leave it nearby.”

  “Bet the kids got an eyeful at the parade mom and dad didn’t plan for. Anyone hurt?”

  “No, just shook up having a gun stuck in their face.” Chris responded.

  “Where are we going?” Jimmy asked.

  “The most logical place they could show up is the boatyard and Swagart’s yacht. That’s what Swagart planned for, and will most likely be his first stop. We alerted our onsite surveillance team there are no hostages to worry about, and to stay out of sight. Now that one of them is known to be armed, we’d like to avoid a shootout. Upsets the neighbors.” Chris finished.

  “How are they deployed?” Jimmy asked.

  “You don’t sound like being a snoopy journalist was your first profession, Mr. Falcone.” Chris was curious.

  “He was a decorated Marine who got shot in the ass in Desert Storm.” Kate spoke up. “Go ahead, Jimmy, show him your scar. You’ve shown everybody else.” Now it was Kate’s turn to embarrass Jimmy.

  Jimmy, smiled, dropped his chin, and shook his head. Since putting smartass Jimmy on hold for the duration of his service to Commander Phillips, Jimmy had been all business. Kate just blew that out of the water. Touché. Chris looked at Jimmy with raised eyebrows, seeking confirmation of this revelation.

  “In a former life, I was a real comedian, and a bit of a jerk. I’ve outgrown that side of me.”

  “Yeah, you’ve matured remarkably since yesterday.” Ouch, Kate got him again. Chris laughed. Such comments and horseplay were common in military service, and law enforcement in particular.

  “I want to see your scar.” Beth spoke up. “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours.”

  “You don’t have any scars on your ass, Beth. The whole unit already checked.” Chris joked.

  “Maybe he’ll give me one.” Beth was an expert at verbal sparring with oversexed jarheads, sailors, and cops.

  Jimmy turned beet red in the face, and sat back in his seat. These people were quick, and sword tongued, and could give it back harder than they received it. Thuy saved him by changing the subject.

  “Who watching small boats connecting to larger boats already offshore? Big island, Key West. Lots of shoreline all around. Hundreds of private slips and docks.”

  Everyone turned to look at the diminutive older man. Jimmy and Kate weren’t the least bit surprised their friend had once again thought of something no one else had considered.

  The cab pulled over just outside Key West international. Bobby Lee had a clear view of the terminal passenger drop off several hundred yards away, and he didn’t like what he saw. Earlier, he had placed a call to his buddy at the boatyard, pretending to be a customer inquiring about his boat’s refinish. Cyrus knew exactly who was on the phone.

  “Cyrus, ol’ son, how’s t
he refinish job on that Sea Chaser I dropped off? Any unusual problems?”

  “Haven’t had a chance to start it. Been unusually busy around here these days.” Cyrus boatyard was never busy. It was best described as a boat grave yard. It served as a front for all sorts of nefarious activities that required moving things from the water to the shore. Some things were in kilo bundles, some had two legs.

  “Oh, is that right. That’s disappointing to hear. I was looking forward to stopping by today to check the progress.” Bobby Lee was asking a direct question. A State Trooper listened to the conversation.

  “Naw, not today, Sam. Maybe not tomorrow, either. I’ll give you a call when it’s ready.” Cyrus answered as best he could. The Trooper eyeballed him as he spoke.

  “That’s fine, you can reach me at this number anytime. Say hi to the missus for me.” Swagart signaled he understood the place was crawling with cops, and told Cyrus to call him at this number when he could. His burner was untraceable, with no GPS features.