Narc - Debt Collector 7 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  No, something about this didn’t make sense. It might have been a small island, but small islands had big mouths unless of course the cops were in bed with them. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d run across dirty cops. Police work didn’t pay much, so New York was a haven for crooked boys in blue, and that was a big city. How much more might it happen in the armpit of Florida, under the cover of the Everglades, where people could go missing and their bones never be seen again?

  Captain Mitchell’s Fishing Charters was located on the south end of the island in a spacious area that had little around except a few fishing boats on trailers, a baby blue clapboard home, a tiki hut and some RVs. There were no warehouses, nothing that would make anyone think that they were housing a massive amount of narcotics. It was just sand, burned grass and seagulls.

  The first thing he spotted was a dog chained to a post. There was a large doghouse that it could sit in but for whatever reason it was out and laying in the heat of the morning sun. Dust filled the air as he parked the truck close to the business sign.

  As he slammed the door shut, the dog jumped up and growled a little. “Steady, Cujo,” he muttered. Jack approached and the dog backed up, an odd behavior for a German shepherd. He wondered if it was just waiting for its moment to pounce or had been beaten by its owners. Its coat certainly looked dirty and matted. He gave it a wide berth and went over to a trailer. He knocked on the door and stepped back. When it opened, some ginger-haired woman stared at him. Thin-boned, with sunken eyes, she looked one step away from death’s door. Jack scanned her arm and he noted the dark needle marks.

  “What do you want?”

  “Is Jimmie there?”

  “No.” She motioned with her head. “He’s over at the house.”

  “Right.”

  Just before she shut the door, a younger-looking girl stepped into view behind her. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old. She had this deer in the headlights look. Drugged out. Drained of energy.

  “Winona, get her back in here,” a rough male voice shouted.

  The woman turned. “What did I tell you? Go back there and do your job.”

  The girl had this scared look on her face, almost a sense that perhaps if it had been a police officer knocking, she might have bolted. Jack didn’t get to say anything else as the door was promptly slammed. From inside he could hear her berating the girl and telling her to do as she was told or else. Under any other conditions he might have contemplated knocking again, just to make sure she wasn’t in some kind of danger but instead he turned to leave. He didn’t want to set off any red flags that might cause them to doubt them.

  Reluctantly he strolled west towards the baby blue house with a steel roof. It had a covered porch that was enclosed by netting to keep out the bugs, and a storm door on the front. Jack went up and didn’t even need to knock, a voice called out from within.

  “Come on in.”

  He paused for a second then pulled it open and entered. Inside Jimmie was sitting at the table eating breakfast. A plate of grits, black beans and eggs sat in front of him. He scooped some of the slop into his mouth and some of it spilled between his legs. “Shit!”

  He pawed at his legs.

  Jimmie wore a pair of reading glasses, a pair of white shorts, a flowery shirt that revealed an excessive amount of chest hair, and he was leaning forward, reading the paper. A small gray tabby cat curled around his feet.

  “You a betting man, Jack?” he asked without even glancing at him.

  “I’ve placed a bet or two in my time.”

  He lowered the paper and removed his glasses. “That’s what I like to hear. I don’t trust a man who isn’t willing to take a chance. The first time I put money on horses, I lost a thousand dollars, the second time I walked away with four times that amount. Now, most folks would have cut their losses and phoned home. Not me, nah, I plunked that wad of notes back down and bet it on another horse.”

  “Let me guess, you won?”

  He hesitated before replying. “No I lost. But I learned a valuable lesson that day. You can’t determine the outcome of a race but you can only win if you’re willing to lose. Are you willing to lose, Jack?”

  He wasn’t sure what the hell he meant by that and to be honest, he didn’t really care. What was bothering him was the noise that was coming from the trailer. His head turned and Jimmie rose from the table.

  “Oh don’t pay any attention. Some of our girls like to make one hell of a noise when they’re riding the bull.”

  He leaned his head out and shouted. “Chris, keep it down, I’ve got a guest.”

  Jimmie closed the door to seal out the sound of a girl who’d screamed. His cheeks flushed red.

  “So, take a seat. What was your last name again?”

  “Redford.”

  “Like the actor? But I guess you hear that all the time.”

  Jack didn’t reply.

  “You want some coffee? Tea? A beer?”

  “A little early.”

  He made this clicking sound with his lips. “Never too early to savor the taste of gold.”

  “Coffee will be fine. Black.”

  He went over to a coffee maker and poured out a cup, and brought it over. For a few seconds he said nothing but just continued eating his eggs. Jack surveyed the room. It was a typical bachelor pad. Leather seats. Art on the walls depicted images of fishermen in a wild sea.

  “You like that?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Based on Moby Dick. I was always quite fond of it.”

  “What did you want to see me about?” Jack asked trying to get to the point.

  “A man who doesn’t like to mess around. I like that. Another thing I like is the fact that I haven’t had a knock at the door this morning from the cops, and you know what that means?”

  “What?”

  “You can be trusted. And trust is important around here, Jack. We might not all see eye to eye on this island but loyalty goes a long way and after last night’s incident, you proved you can be trusted.”

  Jack sipped at his coffee. “Which means?”

  “I have a lucrative business venture that you might be interested in.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The phone call came in from Daniel Cooper minutes before Isabel was about to head out the door. She glanced at the phone and considered not answering it. They still hadn’t spoken since he’d tossed her under the bus. Typical, she thought. He didn’t have the gall to speak to her in person but he would pick up the phone. That’s what this world had come to now — a series of sporadic phone calls, and an overflow of emails and text messages.

  Screw it.

  She answered.

  “Yes.”

  There was hesitation, certainly not his usual jovial self.

  “Isabel. I’ve been meaning to speak to you but have been swamped with work.”

  She rolled her eyes. A likely story. He had probably been spending all of his waking hours trying to come up with some way to grovel and apologize. Well he was in for a treat now.

  “Really? Thorpe got you on overtime doing surveillance on another agent?”

  He sucked in air. “Yeah, about that.”

  “You know what, Cooper, I might not have dated you but I sure as hell expected more of you.”

  “Look, I feel terrible.”

  “Is that so?” She placed a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow as if she was having a face-to-face confrontation with him.

  “Really. I know it wasn’t right but then…”

  Oh here it was, a flood of excuses. But... But… she clenched her jaw.

  “Thorpe was asking a lot of questions about you. If it’s any consolation—”

  “It’s not.”

  She nipped that in the bud straightaway. He must have thought that she had just graduated from naïve academy.

  “I was about to say before you cut me off.”

  “You know, Cooper. I had it in mind to never speak to you again.
So the very fact that I’m giving you a second of my time and not hanging up on your ass right now is a miracle, so don’t try and paint me in a bad light. You’ve already done that once. I won’t have you do it again.”

  “I’m sorry, Isabel. Really. I apologize for how it went down. In all honesty I didn’t think you were involved with Winchester. I actually found Thorpe’s request amusing. I expected to take a few boring shots of you and then laugh about it later.”

  “But you didn’t.”

  “What would you have done? Put yourself in my shoes for one damn minute.”

  “Watch it, Cooper.”

  She didn’t like his tone.

  “I just mean, look at it from my point of view. I know damn well you would have handed it in. The old you would have handed it in. This… who you are now… with him… I don’t recognize her. Hell, that’s not the same partner I had when we went to Los Angeles to track him down.”

  “Perhaps not but surely you would have had the good sense to speak to me first? At least ask me what was going on?”

  “What? So you could convince me to delete the photos and jump right back in the sack with a criminal? Cause, let’s not forget, Isabel. Jack Winchester is a criminal. He might have solved a few crimes here and there and maybe’s he decided to turn over a new leaf. But facts are facts. If you squeeze an orange, you don’t get grape juice. He is who he is, and we are who we are.”

  There was silence for a second.

  “Look, I’m not here to bust your balls, I just wanted to clear the air, and let you know that I’m sorry for the way it went down.”

  “Like you would have done any different.”

  “Oh screw you, Baker. You know how long it took to get up the gumption to call you?”

  She scoffed. “Here we go again. Trying to spin it back around on me. I did nothing to deserve this.”

  “Of course you did. Did you honestly think you could live a double life? One foot inside the bureau and the other inside his bed?”

  “Careful.”

  “Oh careful yourself. At the rate you are going you’re liable to end up dead or becoming like him. Hell, perhaps you’ll take his old position in New York. I hear they are short a few mobsters.”

  Isabel hung up on him. She gripped the phone tight and scowled. Bastard.

  The phone rang again, however this time she didn’t pick up. He could go to hell for all she cared. She put it on mute and left the house heading for one of the local fishing supplies store.

  Jack thought the guy was a joke from the moment he laid eyes on him. The way he moved like he was some kingpin. If he’d been in New York he would have probably been the guy Gafino sent on coffee runs.

  “As you probably know if you have spent any time talking to the locals on the island, the fishing charter business is competitive. Everyone and his uncle is offering to take people out fishing or on tours around the islands. It’s even harder when no one knows you and believe me there are some mean, spiteful-hearted people that exist that would love nothing better than to see you fail, especially if you come along and offer something that they can’t. Myself? Well, I like to think that we’re all in it together. You know the old saying — the rising tide lifts all boats? You understand?” He nodded and stared at Jack in a belittling way, as if he was used to telling others what they should do.

  “And?”

  “The key to any successful business is to leverage the efforts of others, and not be chained to a job that relies on you being there. So with that said…” He pulled a cigarette, lit it and then inhaled hard through his nostrils. “Here’s my proposition. You come and work for me.”

  “But you run a charter business as well.” Jack acted dumb.

  “I do. But I have my hands in a few other things. That way, if I suffer a bad year in the fishing game, well, I didn’t go without.”

  “So what does it involve?”

  “Driving.”

  There was a pause.

  “Where?”

  “Miami a few times, then one other location nearby.”

  Jack slipped back in his seat and tapped the table with his fingers a little. Jimmie’s eyes flitted over to his hand and so he stopped.

  “What am I delivering?”

  “Cans of fruit.”

  “Fruit?”

  “Yeah, peaches. I have a distributor in Naples.”

  Jimmie spat out Naples and then looked as if he regretted saying it.

  “So Naples is the second location?”

  He blew out gray smoke and Jack waved the toxic cloud from his face.

  “Yeah. That one is going to be quite a big load.”

  “Why not just hire someone else? Why me?”

  He leaned across his now cold, unfinished breakfast and some of his shirt dipped into his egg. “Because being trustworthy is an acquired characteristic that few people have. You, my friend, have it. I can tell. I just know when I can trust someone.”

  Jack’s eyebrow shot up. “That’s why you needed guns when you pulled us out of our truck?”

  He studied Jack’s face and broke into a smile before letting out a hearty laugh. “That’s good. I like that. No, I said we were just fucking with you. I appreciate honesty. I’ve already had a few run-ins with the law in the past. I really couldn’t afford to be pulled in on a gun charge. I needed to be sure you weren’t lying.”

  “And you were able to tell that from what I said?”

  He must have thought Jack was as gullible as the rest of the people he’d pitched this business venture to.

  “Oh, believe me, my business relies singularly on trust. Having been in it for long enough you soon pick up on mannerisms.” He leaned in again as if he was enjoying schooling Jack. “In fact did you know that 55% of communication is visual, 38% is vocal and a tiny 7% is actually what you say? Huh? Did you know that?”

  Jack felt like rolling his eyes, grabbing his head and slamming it down into the egg, then forcing a fork into his ear to see if the guy had even a smidgen of brain matter.

  “That’s insightful,” he said in his most unenthusiastic tone.

  Jimmie rocked back in his seat before getting up and heading over to the fridge and pulling out two cold beers. Jack put a hand up but he insisted.

  “Oh yeah, there’s a lot you can figure out about a person by the way they sit, lean forward, lean back, hell even how they fuck. But I’ll save that for another time.”

  He cracked open his beer and chugged it down while keeping his eyes on Jack. Jack knew he had a gun under the table and his other hand was on it. No one in their right mind welcomed in a stranger and didn’t take some precautions. Especially not one that was going to bring a guy in to deliver narcotics for him.

  “So how lucrative is it?”

  Jimmie broke into a grin. “Aha, now that’s what I’m talking about. Well let’s look at what you would make if you worked a year as a fisherman, you might make around twenty thousand a year, now if you are captain of your own established charter business, you are probably going to be anywhere between fifty and eighty thousand a year. Now, starting any new business you are most definitely going to be running in the red or barely in the black for a year or two before you start really turning over coin because let’s face it, no one knows who the hell you are. But… what if you could earn three times that amount without even having to take out your boat once this year? Or let’s put it this way, you do these runs for me and you take off the next year, or put the money back into the business. Either way you aren’t going to be struggling.”

  “How much?”

  He hesitated before speaking and scratched the side of his nose. “Three hundred thousand.”

  Jack coughed. Not because it was a lot of money. It wasn’t. Not in the drug business. It was scraps from a king’s table. But of course he had to act surprised. He didn’t immediately reply, but gazed around the room.

  “Okay, you run a hard bargain. Three hundred and fifty thousand but that’s it. I got to pay crew and we
ll wholesale ain’t cheap.”

  “How many loads of fruit am I going to be delivering?”

  “Oh don’t you worry about that. Like I said, it’s a few trips into Miami, then one final one to Naples.”

  “When?”

  He narrowed his eyes and wagged his finger in the air. “Oh you are eager. I knew it. From the second I spotted you two in that bar, I knew you were the ones. I have to make a few arrangements but soon. I will contact you. You got a number?”

  Jack fished around in his pocket for a phone and handed it to him so he could enter his digits.

  “So, what, am I driving it into some big warehouse?”

  “Big? No. You’ll be taking a few boxes in an SUV to a location that I’ll give you. The girl that’s going to be driving will vanish for a few hours to make the arrangement and then you’ll point out the vehicle and they’ll take it to their shipping area.”

  There was a moment of silence as if Jimmie was contemplating what else to share.

  “It’s not fruit, is it?”

  “Of course it is. I wouldn’t lie to you. It just has few extra ingredients.” He smirked. “I think you’re a smart enough man to know what I’m referring to.”

  “I understand,” Jack got up and headed towards the door. It wasn’t that he was going to turn down the offer. This was why they were here. To find out who was involved, where it was coming from and how it was being distributed but he needed to act as if he had morals. Any other person would have questioned him.

  “Jack. You’re aren’t considering declining the offer, are you?”

  “This changes things,” Jack replied.

  “Like?”

  “I need to discuss this with my partner.”

  He inhaled deeply. “Ah, a family man. I like that. But come on. Think about it. You are going to make enough to last you a few years. Think of it as a way to get your business started. I’m not asking you to do this forever. Just a few times.”

  He rose from his seat and made his way over, placing a hand on Jack’s back.

  “You won’t be driving. You’ll simply point out the vehicle. My client on the other end handles the rest. It’s a few hours out of your day for a few years’ worth of money. Now, if your partner can’t understand that… you might want to think about getting a new one. In fact, I could hook you up. I have my hands in that business as well.” He gripped Jack’s shoulder and Jack gritted his teeth. “So? Are you in?”