I put the Zodiac in the water south of Galveston—a considerable distance from my prey—so that I might become familiar with the capabilities of the motors and any navigational quirks the little boat might have. Also, I needed to practice a stealth approach. One of the little things I had learned in the military; drill, drill, drill, made for successful operations.
I put out a cheap buoy and practiced floating up to it from different distances, checking the time it took and how much power I could keep on the electric motor while maintaining silent running. I placed a one-gallon water jug on top of the buoy and practiced making a shot from the boat.
My plan was ready. I picked up a tent, food and other supplies for a campout. Rounding out my list were two extra fully charged cell phone batteries for my Motorola Flip phone and a waterproof container for the phone and batteries. A relatively secure pay-and-park boat launch on the Gulf side of Port Aransas was my initial destination. The Thai Tannic was slowly moving north. I was in a good position to intercept her and thrust Lou Cypher back to the abyss he came from. With the supplies loaded and the boat motors wailing away I kept a watchful eye out for my target.
From the shoreline where I set up a primitive camp, Cypher’s location in the Gulf was nearly a mile away. By using binoculars to check his position I could keep a close eye on any movement and watch for visitors.
I had hoped for a quiet area where I could keep a close visual on the boat, but the southern tip of Mustang Island was a high-traffic beach area at times. Bird watchers, beachcombers, small boats, and water sport enthusiasts accounted for most of the passersby. Once again I found the openness and activity a perfect concealment. I would not be remembered by anyone.
I placed the call to Max, “I have eyes on.”
Max fired back, “Capital!”
I don’t always understand every colloquialism Max uses, but the tone was clear. The last domino was in place.
Short, sweet, and to the point. Just the way I like business conversations. I expected the next time would be shorter. If Max and Bludd decided to initiate the operation, I’d still be in a holding pattern. The down-channel “go” for Donnie and me would be after Max received confirmation from Brazil.
I was anxious. It was hard to control my temptation to hurry now that I was on target. Bludd, if successful, would soon eradicate the source of misery for dozens of Brazilian kids. As much as I blamed these scumbags who produced and promoted child exploitation, the greatest fault lay with those who created the market; the buyer of child porn. Bludd’s target might be a simple case of economics, someone trying to make a buck at another’s expense. The buyers, however, were perverse monsters who hid the depth of their filth behind a curtain of virtue. They were worthy of death.
I waited and dozed knowing the call could come at any moment. Around three in the morning I was awakened unexpectedly, not by the ring of my phone, but by the sound of voices in the darkness. I crawled from my pup tent as the sounds of laughter and loud talk grew closer. The beach was unlit; a quarter-moon was not much help in figuring out what my visitors were doing.
My Zodiac was beached fifteen yards from the water; my tent set on a brushy mound of sand near the Zodiac. My position provided a view of the Thai Tannic, my boat, and a wide expanse of beach. As the shadowy outlines drew closer, my concern heightened. I exited the tent with my shotgun in hand.
The shadow figures stopped by the Zodiac and their voices quieted to a whisper.
“Move on,” I shouted.
“Just looking at your boat, man,” one said.
“Thought maybe it washed up here,” another alleged.
From the slurring of their words I supposed they were not in full control of their faculties. The more they talked the more my suspicion was confirmed. As they engaged in conversation I noted a couple of the group attempting to flank my position. I didn’t know their intention, but it was time to elevate my concern.
It was commonly said, a picture is worth a thousand words; well, I was fresh out of pictures. I racked the shotgun slide chambering a round. It just so happened, the sound generated when you worked the slide of a 12-gauge shotgun was also worth a thousand words. The last I saw of those young men, they were traveling rapidly north along the beach, a little more sober than when they stopped to visit.
The sunrise illuminated the Thai Tannic against the blue sky and ocean. I had not detected any vessels coming or going from the yacht. However, the unknown was always the most haunting. There was the possibility that other people were on board—I’d work with whatever situation I found.
Max called shortly after seven in the evening. It was the call I’d waited for. It was simple, “Proceed.” Bludd and Gunn had evidently been successful. Now it was my and Donnie’s turn to cut the industry legs off. I made preparations to launch the Zodiac at nightfall. With weapons, a two-gallon gas can filled with kerosene and some additional combustible accelerants I had picked up, loaded on board, I was ready to do the deed.
A spectacular display of fireworks, like a yacht on fire, would catch the attention of everyone in the area. Not something I was hoping for while taking care of business. If I had to ignite it, I would. My intentions were in and out undetected with a dead body thrown to the sharks.
It was just after midnight and I had been ready to launch for hours. I gave Cypher sufficient time to bed down for the night then throttled the Johnson horses forward to break through the barrier waves. Thirty yards from shore I calmed the motor to a low roar as I made my way to the target vessel. When the dimly lit yacht became clearly visible I shut down the motors and drifted silently toward the stern. The warm and sunny day had given way to the cool air temperature of night and a light breeze. A mist formed creating an eerie glow around the yacht. I searched the deck with binoculars looking for signs of life. It appeared empty. There was no hurry now, the night was mine; so was Cypher.
I scanned the boat continuously for the better part of an hour with no sign of Lou Cypher on deck. A slight chop to the water would make my approach slower than anticipated. I pulled a black ski mask down over my face and donned a set of black leather search gloves. I turned the trolling motor on and advanced on the stern where two flights of steps emptied onto a swim platform just above the waterline. The Zodiac drifted up next to the stern, I threw the bowline around a cleat provided for that purpose and tied off with a standard cleat hitch. With a second line I secured the Zodiac to a cleat on the opposite side of the twin ladders and took out the slack so as to snug the Zodiac up against the ship’s stern.
The yacht’s aft lights were off, making the area dark. I climbed aboard, taking care not to make noise or cause any shifting of the boat. I drew the 9mm and stood poised to shoot if need be. I began to move slowly up the starboard semicircular steps to the aft deck. On the weather deck above, a series of running lights faintly illuminated the covered area below; this was equally good and bad.
I made my way slowly forward. I stopped momentarily to listen to an indistinguishable sound coming from the deck above me. As I listened, the sounds became more distinct. They were human sounds; the sounds of shuffling footsteps. I continued listening. A ladder amidships led to the deck above and the raised pilot house. I continued forward until I felt the upper deck handrail. I turned into the passageway and began my ascent to the next level. The top of the passage came into view; illuminated by the running lights of the upper deck I could see a silhouette approaching the ladder. I backed down the ladder into the darkness of the covered deck.
Objects were now identifiable. I kept my weapon trained in the direction of the approaching target. Adrenaline shot through my veins—twelve feet, eleven feet, ten feet, my heart continued to pound—seven feet, six feet, five, I didn’t want to push the envelope. I could hear my heart beating in my ears, I had to act now.
“Don’t move,” I ordered. I purposely controlled the tone and inflection to not startle him more than was necessary. I repeated the command, “Don’t move.” The man lunged in
my direction to which I responded to with a sharp blow with my 9mm against his head.
Now with the muzzle pressed against his temple, I repeated my command. “Don’t move; don’t even twitch a muscle, understand.”
“Okay, okay—take whatever you want and leave.”
“Where is Cypher?”
“What do you want with me?”
By this time I could see him well enough to be absolutely certain he was my target and I didn’t like his attitude. The sound of his voice was “cocky” and he was in no position to be. “Who else is on board?”
“I have an army down below, but you probably know that already don’t you?”
Dominance is best initiated through violence and I intended to have the upper hand in our conversation. I repeated my question with the added emphasis of my gun barrel across the back of his head. “Who’s on board?” Now, seemingly more compliant with my request, he answered, “No one.” I didn’t wholeheartedly believe him, but thought we should move forward with our relationship. “Okay, let’s try it again. Lou, can I call you Lou.” I paused for his response, but there was none so I continued, “I’m going to ask a question and you are going to answer. Is that clear?” My captive audience started to mumble something under his breath but stopped midsentence; meeting the muzzle of my Nine on his face just under the cheek bone. I repositioned my weapon then remarked, “You’re gonna have to get better at this or we’re going to be here a long time.”
Cypher cautiously responded, “I asked you already, what do you want—money?”
That’s what I like, noncompliance. I’m supposed to ask the questions but as long as he’s talking I’ll let him talk and act surprised. “You have money on board? How much?”
“Look, I have some cash, not a lot, maybe a couple grand. It’s yours, if you want it, take it and go.”
“I appreciate the offer, Lou, but that seems a little light.”
“What then? Tell me what you want?” His voice was cracking from a combination of strain and anger; he was no longer sarcastic, but frightened, and his nerves were on the verge of failing him altogether.
“You have ecstasy. I want it and any other drugs you have.”
“Yeah, I get it. I get it now. That’s what this is all about—well you’re too late pal. I don’t know where you get your information, but it’s already gone. What I have left you can put in one pocket.”
“So, you don’t have much cash and you’re out of drugs?”
“That’s right.”
“You’re still light on the giving end, Lou. I’m going to give you one more chance. Don’t fail me this time.”
“I want all your DVDs, you know, the stuff with the kids on it.”
Cypher was silent. The wheels were turning. If I gave him enough time he would come up with some nonsense line to feed me, so I interrupted.
“Turn on the deck lights.” Pushing the muzzle into the middle of his shoulder blades as he moved toward the wall and light switch. “One more time,” I said, “Where are they?”
“In the galley.”
“Where in the galley?” I paused and waited for him to reply. The silence on his part spoke volumes. He was not going to be cooperative. “You are not very forthcoming with what I want to hear, where in the galley?”
“In a storage area behind a false front in the breakfast island, I have a couple hundred DVDs there. Take them all and go.”
“If you’re lying to me I’m going to be upset.”
“I don’t care about them. They don’t mean anything to me.”
“Tell me, Lou, are you into porn? Is that your sort of thing?”
“No.”
“Do you get some sort of thrill out of watching little kids in porn, is that it?”
“What are you—my therapist?”
The reemergence of his cocky statement reminded me why I didn’t carry on conversations with those I plan to kill. He’s right; I’m not his doctor although I intended to cure his problem, “Let’s go find the porn.” Cypher, reluctant to move at first, responded nicely to the gentle persuasion of my 9mm. I kept prodding him with the muzzle, until he finally opened the secret hatch and exposed the DVDs. I pointed aft with my weapon and commanded, “Let’s go.” As we approached the stern, Cypher said, “Now what? You have what you came for.” He mistook me for a petty thief and not one of grander purpose. His sudden show of arrogance was intended as a demonstration of his confidence and meant to disarm me. It wasn’t working. “Down to the swim platform, Lou.” Cypher started down the ladder leading to the swim platform. My weapon belched flame and a deafening noise. I heard the sound of tumbling followed by moaning from the platform area. I pulled out my flashlight and lit up the area. Cypher was still very much alive. With his back to me and an apparent shoulder wound he was pulling himself up to his feet. I quietly climbed down the ladder and fired a head shot at point blank range. Head wounds bleed profusely, especially when the heart is still beating. I decided to let him bleed out before I dealt with the mess. A minute or two passed, the bleeding slowed and the twitching stopped. I went scavenging for supplies.
Topside in the aft deck storage I found four block and tackle steel hoist pulleys, poly rope, chains, and steel cable. I chained the pulleys to the body and wrapped him in steel cable for a finishing touch. I rolled the body off the platform and sank it into the ocean.
There was blood, lots of it. No hiding it and trying to clean up the mess was useless. My shoe tracks were in blood and I left plenty of them around the boat. I opened every cabinet, pulled beds apart and opened up anything with a lid. I wanted to give the impression the motive was theft. I left the stash of drugs and child porn to be discovered by authorities. The cash was a different story. Lou had lied to me. He had bundles of cash hidden with the DVDs. It could be recycled to a worthy cause; one which helped kids, not hurt them. I hoisted anchor on the Thai Tannic and left her adrift.
I untied the Zodiac and hit the starter switches; the Johnsons roared to life. I sank my shoes and pointed the Zodiac toward shore. I didn’t know how long it would be before the yacht would drift into an area endangering other boaters, and someone would board her or she would run aground, but I imagined it would be soon enough. If I was lucky it would be a few days before the alarm was sounded. By then, crab, snails and other crustaceans would be enjoying an ecosystem meal, compliments of Cypher.
I deadheaded toward land and then followed the coastline south. Along the route I dropped the Glock into the salty brine. I spotted my campsite and decided to take a dip to wash off any blood splatter. I’ve always felt there’s nothing more refreshing than a skinny dip early in the morning.
Once on the beach I donned fresh clothes and slipped on a pair of tennis shoes, grabbed a snack and broke camp. I took one last look toward Thai Tannic as she floated aimlessly on a rising tide. I was moved. She was the first legitimate ghost ship I had ever seen. With my shotgun and gear stored in the Zodiac I headed for Port Aransas. Along the way I contacted Max by cellphone with the report.
Max had further instructions for me. “Drive to Corsicana, Texas. Check in at the Court Life Motel. You have a room already booked. A man will contact you by telephone and make arrangements to pick up the boat. Stay at this location until I contact you again. I want to go over the details with you.”
Corsicana was a small town and easy to navigate. Once in my motel room I relaxed and placed a call to Anna. There was no answer. I wanted to catch up on local news with a special emphasis on B.A. Ware’s whereabouts. It would have to wait. The following day I drove around the countryside as a way to wind down and regroup my thoughts. I had spent a lot of time on Cypher and I was still focused on what I could have done better or different. I supposed it was the nature of any business to go over decisions again, sort of quality assurance.
Max contacted me later that evening, “I’ll be there tomorrow in the afternoon.” I was still unable to get in touch with Anna. Why was she unable to take a call?
Max
arrived promptly at one o’clock. I greeted him and filled him in on the success of my part in the mission. I was excited it had gone so smoothly. I was finally feeling like I was making a difference going after the root of the problem. Max briefed me on Bludd’s operation. He was delighted with the outcome, but his face showed him to be troubled and concerned. Bludd had managed to free a child and killed two brothers who were engaged in sex trafficking and filming. With the “producers” out of the picture, Rusty had used an old .38-caliber Colt Army Special to take the distributor out. Rusty was conflicted by the fact his target was a family man with children of his own. In my book there was nothing redeeming about the target. He didn’t care about the children who were being abused; and he should have.
Max grew quiet for a moment before he revealed the rest. Donnie was dead. The UK takedown had been too large for one person to handle effectively. Donnie engaged in a shootout with a gang of importers, leaving two dead and two hospitalized. They were Russian gangsters, part of an organized mob and heavily armed. Donnie died at the scene with multiple gunshot wounds. It was a success which cost too much. I cataloged it away in the recesses of my mind. One day I would finish what Donnie had begun. Their names were on record and they could be found when they least expected it.
Max sat back and silently looked out the window for a lengthy period of time. It was a time of reflection. I didn’t have the right, nor was I interested in interrupting his moment. As for me, I was angry. I had only met Donnie, yet I felt a kinship with him. As I challenged my thoughts the ultimate question surfaced, Was Donnie’s sacrifice worth his life? There are evil people among us and there always will be. They are broken vessels. What abides within them is a want to inflict atrocities on the innocent. No amount of counseling or punishment will dissuade them. There is no cure save one—death—that is their destiny. If required, will my sacrifice be worth my life? For the sake of the weak, elderly, young and innocent, I would answer yes. What more can a person ask for out of life than to give their life for another? It is the highest of all callings and I accept.
Due Process Page 28