Narc - Debt Collector 7 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  Jimmie was talking about the street value, not their cut. Oh no, by the time it made its way to the Cubans in Miami, and they had got their share, the Mitchell brothers would be lucky if they walked away with three million and out of that, Ray Edmonds got the largest chunk, then the crew, a number of locals on the island with stash houses, and finally a few folks in Miami who acted as spotters.

  The problem was, keeping people quiet didn’t come cheap. All it took was for one of those guys to head over to the Coast Guard, DEA, or FBI, and the house of cards would collapse. Everyone had to be happy. Not an easy job when greed ran rampant and folks lived in constant fear of being raided.

  Of course, it beat the annual salary of a commercial fisherman. Heck, six months ago they were lucky to pull in twenty-two grand a year, now they were making more cash in one night than they could spend.

  Willie watched as his youngest brother, Noah checked the radar and listened to the scanners. Avoiding customs and border protection was a game of cat and mouse that they hadn’t quite perfected but they were fast on their way to mastering it. They had to watch out for helicopters and drones above, as well as the U.S. Coast Guard who would coordinate with eyes in the air by radar.

  Of course, like many others they had used several common methods to avoid the spotlight. Covering a boat in a blue tarp so it wasn’t visible was one, changing routes was another and not switching off their lights, which was a clear giveaway. And yet nothing worked better than creating a distraction.

  It was simple. It involved two key components.

  First, they sent out three to four boats into hotspots known to be watched and had them shut off their lights. The Coast Guard would immediately swoop in to check them out. Obviously none of those boats had any drugs on them. Meanwhile, an additional group of five to eight boats would gather for what looked like a party in the middle of the Gulf Coast. Lots of music, drinking beers and general shenanigans would ensue. What the Coast Guard didn’t know was an exchange was being made. There was never any handing off of product. That was all done prior to leaving. Boats were kitted out in a way to hide drugs inside every corner of the frame. One boat would pull up beside another, and the occupants would change over. All boats were registered under the same charter boat company, and everyone involved was an employee. This meant if at any point they were randomly stopped, there would be no issue with ownership or questions as to why they were in the Gulf as they were nothing more than fishing boats gathering for a party. Of course no fish were caught, the boats were already filled with fish prior to leaving to give the illusion that they were out there bringing in a catch.

  As soon as a boat changed hands, the Mitchell brothers would bring it back to the shore to be unloaded. The drugs would be stashed safely in one of the many stash houses on Chokolskee Island before being driven across the causeway, through Everglades City and down US 41 to Miami the next day.

  On rare occasions when the Coast Guard was out in full force and preventing boats from making their way back to the island, they would head into the Ten Thousand Islands and a load would be stashed inside the mangrove forest until the following day. At which point it would follow the same route through Everglades City and down to Miami or the load would be transferred into a flat-bottomed boat called a pitpan which could traverse the shallow waters of Turner River until it came out under US 41. From there the load would be transferred into waiting vehicles and make the perilous journey into Miami.

  For the longest time, a crew of five men would carry the risk of being stopped by police. So, all along US 41 would be spotters on radios keeping an eye out for the cops. They were stationed at eight-mile intervals. Radios were used to communicate and in the event police were spotted, they would notify the driver and he would take a slight detour. There had only been a few times that a mule had been stopped. One guy was arrested but he didn’t say anything, he knew better than that. The other backed up, punctured the cruiser’s radiator with a raised trailer hitch and set off the airbags before the cop could get out. It bought him some time. That guy was lucky to escape. He dumped the car and evaded the police by heading into the swamp and then getting picked up by a spotter.

  After several incidents that ended in arrests it was decided that the mules would no longer be guys from the main crew, it would be down to prostitutes. How they didn’t think of it before was a mystery. Most of the women were already junkies, so they were willing to take the risks. Those who were caught stealing any of the stash or considered a liability were strangled and left for the gators in the Everglades.

  Hiring prostitutes to make the drops in Miami had been the best decision they had ever made. They would work for a few lines every day. But they couldn’t take the credit for it. It was the drug cartel down in Colombia that used this tactic. They themselves had learned about it from the Mexican cartel that had been using women to carry drugs across the border. Often they were used as nothing more than a distraction to the real load that was making its way in via another avenue.

  Willie breathed in deeply, trying to calm his nerves. The decaying seaweed gave off a familiar smell, like a combination of rotting eggs and sea salt.

  “You want a toke?” Jimmie said holding out a joint. “It’ll calm those butterflies.”

  “No, I just want to get this over and done with.”

  He chuckled. “You need to ease up. How many times have we done this and not been caught?”

  “More than I can count.”

  “Right. So chill. It’s all being taken care of.”

  Under the darkness of night one of their boats came into view with three others. No one ever traveled alone. The Coast Guard was always looking for the single boats, the suspicious, the ones that shouldn’t have been out there. They circled each other for a moment, and as they always did, Willie and his brothers hopped into the vessel that was pre-loaded. His crew did the same with one more boat, and then, they vanished like ghosts into the night.

  Chapter Two

  FBI FIELD OFFICE FLORIDA

  FBI Agent Daniel Cooper fidgeted in his seat as Simon Thorpe looked over the photos in front of him. Thorpe shook his head but said nothing as he thumbed through them for a second time. Finally he returned them to the folder and leaned back.

  “Disappointing, and yet perfect.”

  “It is?” Cooper asked, a little confused. In all honesty he felt bad about having to keep tabs on her. For a while he even thought that Thorpe was barking up the wrong tree. But after he saw it for his own eyes he couldn’t in good faith stand by and do nothing. Still, it was the principle. She was his partner. He knew the consequences would be tough.

  Even as he arrived that afternoon at the bureau, he still had second thoughts but he knew it was the right thing to do. It was better to get it out in the open, deal with it and allow her to have her say than to have it fall into the hands of another agent.

  “So what now?” he asked.

  Thorpe rose from his seat and went over to a small coffee maker and poured himself a cup. He returned but this time didn’t sit down, instead, he gazed out at the numerous agents sitting behind desks, answering phones and following up on leads.

  “Any further leads on those women?”

  “Nothing. Same MO, dumped in the Everglades.” He exhaled and leaned back. “In fact if that teen hadn’t been out there fishing, I don’t think we would have heard about it.”

  “Have they been identified?”

  “Not so far, fingers were chopped off. We are waiting to hear back on the dental records.”

  “Sick world.” Thorpe took another sip and continued to gaze out.

  “Sir.”

  Thorpe turned, lost in deep thought.

  “About Agent Baker? What are you going to do?”

  “Leave that with me. For now, I want you to keep this to yourself. Don’t mention it to her or anyone. Do you understand?”

  He frowned and nodded.

  “I’m going to organize a SWAT team and arrange for th
em to bring him in.”

  Cooper felt his collar tighten around his throat.

  “Sir, you won’t mention my name, will you? I have a long history with Baker and well…”

  Thorpe chuckled. “Your secret is safe with me. You’re dismissed.”

  Cooper got up and had his hand on the door when Thorpe spoke again. “And Cooper, I appreciate what you’ve done. I know it couldn’t have been easy. But, it’s all going to work out right. Trust me. Just know that your service won’t go by unnoticed.”

  Cooper left his office feeling like a dark cloud was looming over his head. He had done a lot of shitty things in his time but this was right up there. If she learned that he was behind it, that would be the end of whatever relationship they had. And yet he had to wonder if she had just been stringing him along all this time. How long had she been speaking with him? Better question, how long had she been fucking him?

  He slapped the thought from his mind and jabbed a button for the elevator. As the glowing numbers climbed he thought about all the times over the course of working together that she had made him focus on other areas of the case while she worked alone. Had she been visiting him? What the hell did she see in him? The elevator dinged and the doors hissed open. His eyes were down and he was in the middle of stepping in when he walked right into her.

  “Cooper.” Isabel smiled and stepped off to one side. She looked as professional as ever. Her dark hair was swept back and pulled up into some hair tie; she was wearing glasses and a dark navy suit. Certainly a far cry from the images he snapped of her. He hadn’t been able to get them out of his head. Half naked, wrapped up in nothing more than a white sheet and then there was that that asshole, Winchester, caressing the back of her neck.

  “Oh, Isabel. Um.”

  “What are you doing up here? I haven’t seen you in a while. What have you been up to?”

  He was suddenly at a loss for words. She had worked long enough with him to spot when he was hiding something. Her eyes squinted. Did she already know? Make something up. But stay truthful. He was going to end up tongue-tied if he didn’t spit something out.

  “I had to see Thorpe about the recent murders. You know, those dead women in the Everglades. Tough case. They have me working all hours.”

  He was waffling now. Shut up, he told himself.

  She nodded. “How’s that coming along?”

  Oh, god, please don’t ask questions. Go. Get in the elevator. Leave now before you dig yourself an early grave. His mind was flipping all over the place. He had his hand blocking the doors from closing. Another agent entered and hit a button and then looked at him.

  “Are you going down?” he asked impatiently.

  “Yeah. Um. No.” Out of nervousness he moved his hand to his face and the doors closed. He squeezed his eyes shut. Great. Now he was stuck on the same floor and going to have to confess to everything.

  “Agent Baker. Come on in.”

  He breathed a sigh of a relief as Thorpe stepped outside of the office and beckoned her in.

  “Got to go. Maybe we can catch up over lunch?”

  Great, now she asks me for lunch? Why couldn’t she have done that before I was put in charge of spying on her? At least then he might have been able to put the moves on her and get in there first.

  He lifted a finger and was about to respond when she walked away. He blew his cheeks out, glad that he didn’t agree. Right now he didn’t want to spend any more time with her than was necessary. He glanced over at Thorpe who raised an eyebrow. Was he about to tell her? Fire her? Send her off to prison? He tapped the button for the elevator and regretted ever taking that transfer from New York to Florida.

  Thorpe held the door open for Isabel. He caught the scent of perfume as she brushed past him. He breathed it in and held it there for a second. Though logic told him to take her badge and toss her to the wolves, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. But he needed to understand why.

  No wonder she had been turning down his offers for dinner at his place.

  He wandered around his desk and took a seat.

  “Can I get you a coffee?”

  “Actually, I just had one but thanks. How’s things?”

  “Good. You?”

  He said it in a way that might give her the opportunity of coming clean.

  “Oh you know, busy, busy. That case against the biker gang has gone through. Looks as though they are going to be doing some hard time.”

  “That’s good. How did your vacation go?”

  Now that he knew the truth of how she’d spent her time, he had every intention of prodding her for details. The review board would have a field day with her if this information got out. No, he wasn’t going to come out with it. He wanted her to tell him the truth. He glanced down at the folder on his desk that was filled with photos of her and Winchester. She didn’t have a clue.

  “Relaxing. Did a bit of shopping. Took in some of the sights and basically bummed around.”

  I bet you did, he thought.

  God she looked good. He could have eaten her up for breakfast, lunch and dinner. What on earth did she see in that guy? Thorpe rested his hand on the folder and picked at the corner. He had a good mind to flip it open and toss the photos in front of her. The look on her face would have been worth it.

  “You? I heard you finally took some time off.”

  “It was business.”

  “Oh,” she said. “You really should consider taking a vacation.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Her eyes drifted around the room. She gnawed on the corner of her lip. “Anyway, what did you want to see me about?”

  He cleared his throat and got down to the matter at hand. “Something has come up and I want you to be there to see it go down.”

  “Is this about the murders?”

  “Um… I guess you could say it’s related but not exactly. We’re going to meet here with the SWAT team at nineteen hundred hours. I’m bringing you and Cooper in on this.”

  “Right.” Her brow knit together. “Where’s the raid?”

  “Down on one of the islands in Key West.”

  He tossed it out there like a carrot on the end of a string hoping that she might bite. Nothing. Oh, she was good. That’s why he wanted to keep her on board. No matter what she had done, she was damn good at lying and the bureau couldn’t get enough of those. She just needed a little nudge in the right direction, someone to channel her abilities and he had the perfect job for her.

  “By the way, I was hoping to take some more time off at the end of the year. I completely forgot to put in the request.”

  “Oh, certainly. Going somewhere nice?”

  “Nothing special.”

  He sniffed hard. “I must say that’s a little odd for you.”

  “What?”

  “All this time off.” He shifted the folder off the table and slipped it into his drawer. From there he took out his calendar. Usually HR dealt with it but he liked to run it by his schedule to see if there would be any conflicts.

  “Well, I guess you were right. I’ve been working hard, maybe a little too hard. It’s time for some well deserved R&R.”

  “And would that involve anyone special?” he said with a glint in his eye. If he’d held a carrot out for her before, he was dangling a bloody steak in front of her face now. If there was any time to come clean — this would be it.

  She smirked. “Special? You know me, Thorpe. I don’t have time for the drama.”

  “That’s right. You don’t like to mix business with pleasure.” He held her gaze for a few seconds. “Well, consider it booked. Just let HR know you have my approval and enjoy.”

  She rose from her seat.

  “See you this evening.”

  She gave a curt nod and exited.

  Chapter Three

  19:00 hrs

  Geared up in a bulletproof vest, Isabel moved from the driver’s side to the rear, grabbed her duty belt and secured it around her waist. She was
dressed in all black, and had the word FBI on her back. She had her hair fixed back in a tight ponytail and was inserting it through the gap of a dark baseball cap when Cooper’s car crawled into the lot. She checked the magazine was loaded before slapping it into the well and placing it in her holster.

  Cooper shut his engine off and glanced at her from inside his vehicle. She had to admit he’d been acting a little weird lately. He certainly hadn’t been his usual self. It had been a month since he had asked her out, or gone through his daily routine of flirting with her. Was he sick or just overloaded by work? It wasn’t like everyone walked around with a smile on their face but he was usually upbeat. If she wasn’t mistaken he almost seemed nervous around her earlier that afternoon. There were no cringeworthy jokes, nor was there a reaction when she mentioned lunch. That always got him going.

  Her eyes narrowed as she adjusted her gear before closing the trunk.

  For the longest time she’d loved going on raids. There was something about moving as one unit and kicking in a door that gave her an adrenaline rush. And yet it didn’t matter how many times she did it, she was always nervous. Her stomach would churn at the thought of what could go wrong. Back when she was just a rookie cop, she’d been caught in the crossfire and taken a bullet in the shoulder. She’d never forgotten that. Every time she looked in the mirror, that mark reminded her of how quickly things could take a turn for the worse. The tough part was that she didn’t even see the triggerman. He’d heard her coming and shot through the drywall, a rapid succession of fire that could have easily killed her. In many ways she was lucky. Two other guys had died that day.

  One thing she was certain about, it made her much more cautious.

  She gave a nod to Cooper, and he raised a hand but didn’t mutter a word.

  Isabel shrugged it off and headed into the bureau. They were to meet in one of the conference rooms on the ground floor where they would outline the tactical approach and update everyone on what they were up against.