Narc - Debt Collector 7 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  He headed out the door and left them both in silence. He stood outside for a second before making his way around to the room that gave him a view of them both. As soon as he walked in he put his hand out and Carson stuffed it with a twenty-dollar note. He pursed his lips and then returned to gazing upon the two of them.

  Neither one said anything to each other. What could they say? It was bittersweet in many ways. He’d always hoped that perhaps he and Isabel would get together. All this time she had been deflecting his advances and only now did it all click into place.

  “Be sure to keep an eye on both of them. I don’t want either one of them out of your sight for the entire operation.”

  “So we get to babysit?”

  “Call it whatever you want. It’s either that or be assigned to desk duty.”

  “Screw that. I think I can handle a few weeks of surveillance work.”

  That’s exactly how it would happen. Of course he knew there was a chance that Winchester would bolt the second he was released but that’s why Carson and Moore would be keeping tabs on them.

  He turned to leave.

  “Where you going?” Moore asked.

  “To make preparations.”

  They were going to need a vehicle, a place to live, a business that would act as a cover. The fact was, the bureau had been trying to figure out where a recent influx of cocaine and heroin had been making its way into Miami for some time. Several DEA officers had busted some dealers, flipped them and worked their way up the chain as far as they could go.

  What they had discovered led them to believe that someone new was operating in Miami and transporting in a disgusting amount of coke and heroin. Unfortunately they couldn’t catch them, as any large operation ran on a need to know basis. No drugs were ever transported into a stash house directly from the source. To do that would have compromised the anonymity of an operation. From the little the DEA had been able to determine, it wasn’t arriving in the Miami ports on the typical vessels; neither was it coming in over the border. They had stepped up their game over the past few months but had drawn a blank.

  But now, maybe Winchester would change that.

  If anyone could get close enough to find out who was in charge, it was him. Now all that was left was to make the arrangements and inform the powers that be.

  Chapter Six

  The moment she turned eighteen, she left the foster system and headed for Naples, Florida. Karla Maurice like many others had every intention of turning her life around. She spent the better part of two years working crappy jobs. Either she was let go, or left of her own accord. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t work or even that she was picky. Hell, she had worked more hours waiting tables than anyone but it still didn’t seem to be enough.

  “I’m sorry, hon, we have to let you go.”

  She had just got to the end of an eight-hour shift when they dropped the bombshell on her. Karla sat in the booth as the manager told her.

  “I’ll take whatever hours you can give me.”

  He shook his head.

  “You’ve been late three times now.”

  “And I apologized. The first time was all me, I overslept, but the second and third time my ride didn’t show up and I didn’t have any means of letting you know. I barely make enough to pay my rent.”

  He shrugged. “Ashley manages to get here and she lives on the other side of town.”

  “Because she has her own vehicle.”

  “Just don’t make a scene, leave your uniform on the counter.” He then slipped across an envelope. “That’s one week’s money.”

  “One week? I’ll be lucky if I can survive one day. Come on, Jason, please give me another chance.”

  He got up and went to walk away and she grabbed a hold of his hand. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”

  “Just leave, Karla.”

  He walked back behind the counter and went out back to his office. One of the older waitresses came over as Karla was heading out the door and pressed a twenty into her hand.

  “Look after yourself, kid.”

  With tears welling up in her eyes she gave her a hug before heading out into the night. She wrapped her leather jacket around her and pulled the collar up to shield her face from the wind. Though it was usually warm, they had seen a patch of cold weather blow in off the Gulf Coast, the left overs of the hurricane. Palm trees had been uprooted, signs torn away and trash littered the streets. A light rain began to fall as she raced to catch the next bus.

  “Hold up!” she yelled as it pulled away before she could reach it. Her thighs screamed in protest but it was too late. The distant glow of red taillights disappearing into the night robbed her of what little hope she had left. She flung her arms up in the air and bent at the waist. Some dirty pervert who walked up behind her whistled, and she stuck her finger up at him. She couldn’t believe her life had come to this, a routine of cycling through shitty low-paid jobs and scrambling for money. Not wishing to stand around in the rain, she trudged on with salty tears trailing down her cheeks.

  It took her the better part of forty minutes to make it home. Bay Villa Apartments were anything but a villa. It was a run-down, two-story concrete block that was an eyesore to the community. The landlord, Clyde Stanton, never updated the place no matter how many times tenants requested it. When she first moved in, her apartment was missing a stove. A quick phone call to the head office and a day later they delivered her a piece of trash that had the door on the ground and cat hair and grease inside. She immediately went out and bought a secondhand one and gave Clyde the receipt. He wasn’t too happy about it but her response was priceless.

  “Would you cook in that stove?”

  “All it needed was a cleaning.”

  “So why didn’t you clean it?” she spat back.

  “Look, if you are going to give me problems, I will toss you out on your ear.”

  “Tenants have rights. Just try it.”

  He tucked the receipt away and told her he would take the price off next month’s rent. The nerve of the man, she thought. Karla had seen all types come and go. There had been a great girl that had moved in across from her. She was studying at one of the local colleges. She tried to persuade Karla to sign up but she didn’t have the funds and she didn’t want to get buried beneath a mountain of debt. She already had more than her fair share. Messages on her answering service were always the same.

  “Ms. Maurice, we visited your apartment today. You still owe us four and a half thousand dollars. This isn’t going to look good on your credit,” some tool would say. It was always the same but never the same person. And yet they acted as if they were judge and jury.

  Karla pushed her key into the lock and gave it a twist. It let out a clunk sound.

  “Hey Karla.”

  A skinny African American by the name of Anna-Belle emerged from the laundry room. Clyde had built one after everyone complained that his ad stated that he had a top-of-the-line laundry facility on site. Of course it was a blatant lie.

  After tenants protested, they spent the next three months with a hole in the wall and plastic flapping in the wind until he got around to adding on the extra room and leaving an old, rusted washing machine and dryer in there. It was a fire hazard just waiting to happen. The back of it had frayed wires so Karla never used it. She would tell Anna-Belle that she was crazy to go near the machines. One shock, that’s all it would take. But it didn’t seem to bother that girl.

  Anna-Belle wore her hair up in a bun, and had tattoos down her right arm. It was an unfinished sleeve, one that she had started when she was sixteen.

  Now Karla thought her life was rough.

  Anna-Belle had been abused physically and sexually, and had run away from home at the age of fifteen. She spent her time panhandling on the streets of Florida until she met Ray Edmonds. Since then she hadn’t wanted for money but she wasn’t rolling in it either.

  Karla turned, her hair was matted, and rain droplets trailed off her head.
Anna-Belle was juggling a basket of clothes in one hand and a cigarette in the other. All she had on was a sleeveless white shirt, a pair of tight gray shorts and slippers.

  “Oh hey,” Karla gave a nod. She generally kept to herself but Anna-Belle seemed nice enough. She tended to talk too much but she was harmless and in many ways when they got on the subject of Clyde, she kind of felt like she had a sister who backed her up.

  “Fuck, when will this rain stop?”

  “When Mother Nature has had enough.”

  “Yeah and she’s one pissed-off bitch at the moment.” She eyed her up and down then placed her basket on the ground and ambled over as if she had seen something she liked. Anna-Belle squinted. “Hell girl, you have quite a body on you. Why have you been hiding it all this time, huh? You should dump those baggy clothes and come out shopping with me. I know just the thing for you,” she said pulling at her wet clothes that clung to her toned frame. Karla had never been one to work out as she was so busy with her life, in many ways that was her workout. She was five foot six, and the only times she had been complimented on her body were by pervert bosses and college guys when she was in her waitress uniform. Outside of work she tended to stick to loose-fitting clothing. Having guys ogling her wasn’t exactly her idea of self-respect. Despite what her ex-boyfriend had said, she still had morals. At least she liked to think she did. Lately, she wondered where that had got her.

  Anna-Belle had told her on numerous occasions that she could make some extra money but she knew what that meant. It wasn’t like she hadn’t heard of other girls tossing up an ad on Craigslist or Backpage and becoming escorts. Hell, some of them could make five to seven thousand dollars a week, according to her. Even though she had never done it herself.

  Anna-Belle pushed back her hair over her ear then removed her glasses. Suddenly the world went a little blurry. “Yeah, a little makeup here, and there, and some good product in your hair and you could be a real stunner.” She paused. “Lots of men would pay good to take you out for the night. A nice meal, walk in the park. A little… well…”

  “Yeah, no thanks, Anna-Belle. It’s just not my thing.”

  Anna-Belle leaned up against the wall and crossed her arms.

  “Then what is your thing? Working all hours at some greasy diner for pennies on the dollar? Getting groped by men for nothing? Hell, at least this way you can make them pay for it.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Why haven’t you got your uniform on? You always have it on when you come home.”

  Karl exhaled hard. “Because they fired me.”

  “Fired? Those bastards. I told you they were going to be trouble. So did they pay you?”

  “One week.”

  She pursed her lips together and looked up and down the hallway. “So what are you going to do after that?”

  “Try and find a job like I always do. They’re out there.”

  “Oh they’re out there. Suckers are born every minute and they are just waiting for girls like you to come along. Minimum wage. Shitty pay. Pervert bosses that you have to give a five knuckle shuffle to if you want a raise.” She starting chuckling and Karla joined. “Listen, I know we’ve talked about it before.”

  “Anna-Belle.”

  “No, listen. This wouldn’t involve having sex with guys. You have a driver’s license, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s the only thing I do have.”

  “Okay, so how much a month were you making waiting tables? Two grand, maybe a little more or less with tips?”

  She nodded. “About that.”

  Karla hated talking about money. She was embarrassed by the fact that she had to take shitty jobs because her skills were practically zero. It was either waiting tables or working in a factory and there was no way in hell she was going to do that. She saw the look of death in the eyes of those who worked at those places. At least as a waitress, if she worked for a quiet café she could go at her own pace.

  “What if I told you, you could earn four thousand a month just driving a car on one day.”

  “I would say you were out of your mind and who the hell is going to pay that?”

  “Ray.”

  “Ray Edmonds?”

  Anna-Belle nodded. “I’m telling you straight up. You wouldn’t have to put up with shit from bosses saying you are late. You would be given your own car and earnings will go up once they trust you.”

  It was a tempting offer. Karla needed the money really bad and after the shit night that she had just had, she was willing to push to the edge of her comfort zone if it didn’t mean the wolves beating at her door.

  “Have you done it?”

  “Yeah. It’s simple. You’d drive from Chokoloskee to Miami, park the car at the beach, go sun tan for a while, and a few hours later drive the car back. It’s easy money, Karla.”

  “Easy money doesn’t come without a price. What are we talking about? Drugs? Weapons?”

  The moment she said that Anna-Belle got this dead serious look on her face and put a finger up to her lips. She motioned with her head. “Look, if you’re interested, my door is open. But let’s keep this between us. Okay?”

  “Look, I need to have a shower. Maybe I’ll drop by in about ten minutes. How’s that sound?”

  “I’ll crack open the wine.” She got this big grin on her face before ambling back to her apartment, wiggling her ass as she went. On the back of her shorts were the words: EAT ME.

  Karla shook her head and entered her apartment. After prying herself out of her wet jeans, she took a hot shower, and then slipped into a pair of jogging bottoms and a T-shirt before heading over.

  For someone who was supposed to be earning a lot of money she didn’t look as if she was living the high life. The inside of the apartment was as bare as hers. Besides the large flat-screen TV and music center, there was nothing at first sight that would have given anyone any inkling that she was making large sums of money. And yet according to her, she had more than enough. Ray took care of her and made sure she didn’t want for anything.

  “Come on in, my little butterfly,” she said. That’s how she referred to her. It was annoying but she couldn’t be bothered to get into a spitting match over it. It was a simple apartment where the living room joined with the kitchen. It had one bedroom and a small bathroom. Everything inside was pink, purple or had leopard spots. Her taste in décor was nearly as bad as her dress sense. Anna-Belle bent over to put some reggae music on and her ass cheeks were showing from the cut-off shorts. And here she was saying that she could give Karla a few pointers on what to wear. Karla took a seat and got back up again thinking she had sat down on a remote. It was a vibrator. She took a step back and Anna-Belle spotted it.

  “Oops, I knew I had left my little buddy around somewhere.”

  Little? The damn thing could have been mistaken for an Olympic javelin. She disappeared into her room and came back with a grin on her face. A few seconds to smooth out the couch and Karla took a seat.

  “Red or white?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Flexible. Ray likes that.”

  “How long have you been working for Ray?”

  She paused holding a bottle of white wine in her hand. “Too long, darlin’. I had an exit plan but it never happened.”

  “So if you’ve been making good money with him, why haven’t you moved out? I mean this is not exactly the Ritz and if I was making four grand a month I would at least be in a better neighborhood.”

  Anna-Belle padded over and handed her a filled glass.

  “Appearances are everything, hon.”

  Karla glanced around. You can say that again, she thought.

  “You can’t just throw your money around. It raises too many eyebrows. Makes people ask too many questions. Trust me, I live well when I’m not here but I always come home. It’s my piece of the pie. Ray doesn’t own it and you know what, I’ve been in this shit hole for longer than I know. But here’s the thing. When you close that door… it’s…”<
br />
  “Home,” Karla said.

  Anna-Belle pointed her finger at her and curled up at the far end of the sofa among a smorgasbord of puffy pillows. “Exactly.” She took a sip of her drink. “Now what I do elsewhere, that’s business. I never mix business with pleasure.”

  “Understood.” Karla eyed her over the rim of her glass. “So how many others do this?”

  “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you will get paid well and you won’t have to worry about not being able to pay rent. Oh and you won’t have to suck some guy off. Unless of course you want to, in which case there is a lot more money to be made.”

  She tossed a hand up. “Nah, I’m good. I need money but not that bad.”

  “I don’t know. One week’s pay isn’t going to stretch far. Not unless you’re willing to go down on Clyde.”

  She nearly choked on her drink. Anna-Belle roared with laughter. There was a moment of silence as Karla turned the conversation back to the job opportunity.

  “So what is being transferred?”

  “What do you think?”

  Karl sighed and Anna-Belle noticed and reached over with a hand. “Darlin’, there’s no risk involved. Ray has this operation working like a well-oiled machine. You show up, drive to Miami and drive back. There’s nothing to it. And then if you don’t want to go on another run that month, you don’t. There’s no strict rules.”

  “Has anyone been caught?”

  “I’m not going to lie. Yeah.”

  “You said there was no risk.”

  “There isn’t. Trust me, it’s all good. And anyway that was before. Back when he was trying to figure out how to avoid the cops. He has the whole thing running smooth now. Forget the risk; just think about earning four thousand. And that’s just the beginning. Some of the girls are making upwards of fifteen grand by making three or more runs a month. Worse-case scenario, you don’t enjoy it and you walk away with four thousand dollars. That’s two months’ pay for an afternoon of work.”

  She downed her wine in front of Karla in one go and then reached for the bottle as if she was just drinking water. “By the way, how do you like the wine?”