“I think I do. One of the Russians taking us out for a swim bitched about how he still had to make a coke run into the city tonight. My guess is that we’ve been looking for the dope in the wrong places. I think it’s out here.” He paused to let that sink in, adjusting himself in his chair.
Morgan shot a questioning look at Neil, who shrugged in response.
“If the dope is out here,” Alex continued, “they’re bringing in small loads, a bit at a time. They could hide it in a bait cooler, and no one would be the wiser. Since it’s a big shipment, it’s either in kilo or pound bricks. That means they need an assembly line to cut, weigh, and bag the stuff before it’s ferried into the city.”
“Explains why we couldn’t find the dope in New Orleans,” Morgan said.
“Exactly. So you know,” Alex said, looking at Neil now. “I had a deal in place with old Vlad, but it’s pretty much toast now.”
“Deal?” the Iceman asked, frowning.
Morgan leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes and letting her mind drift while Alex explained the arrangement he’d made. The one that still pissed her off.
“That sounds like something Wilder would do,” Neil said. “Worth the risk, though.”
She ground her teeth. Allowing any of that cocaine to reach the streets was unthinkable to her. People like Alex and her boss didn’t work in absolutes. They often chose “this is as good as we can get.” It bugged her, mostly because it was a real-world solution, while often hers were more like a fairy tale.
Before she could weigh in, Neil’s phone rang. He stood and walked away, his back to them out of habit. He promptly returned and consulted the list, making little marks next to a few of the boats’ numbers.
“All the same corporation?” He sounded pleased. Anyone else would have smiled at having his instincts validated. Neil took his gut for granted, just like breathing.
There was a short conversation, and the call ended.
He looked up. “Four boats on the list were out for much longer, most likely fishing, and were registered to individual owners. Six out of the ten boats are owned by the same company, and they were the ones that returned within an hour. As was the boat with the dead Russians.”
“Which company owns them?” Morgan asked.
“New Doma Enterprises. They also have warehouses in New Orleans, including the one where you found the bodies.”
Alex smiled. “We got him! Doma is Russian for home. New Home Enterprises.”
“If the dope is out here, how do we find it?” Miri asked, gesturing toward the water. “There are so many places it could be hidden.”
“Actually, the couriers helped us out there,” Alex said. “Take the transit times of those six boats, divide the total in half, add about five minutes for loading, another five minutes for bullshitting back and forth, and that will narrow the area down considerably.” Neil was nodding even before Alex finished. “You got a chart of this part of the bayou, Iceman?”
The man’s mouth thinned, as if Alex had just insulted him, and he headed into the wheelhouse to retrieve one.
“If we call the DEA into this and we’re wrong, there will be hell to pay,” Morgan warned.
“Sometimes you just need to unzip your fly and pray to God everyone applauds the view,” Alex said. “In short, you gotta take risks, Morgan.”
Miri snickered. “You go, bro.”
“Don’t encourage him,” Morgan said. “He’s insufferable enough as it is.”
“Don’t I know it,” his sister replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “Runs in the family.”
That earned him a middle finger from his sibling.
Once Neil had the map, they retreated to a pop-up table on the deck. As Miri brought up plates loaded with sandwiches and Morgan delivered bowls full of tomato soup, the guys worked out travel distances and times, based on the size of the boat motors. By the time they’d all chowed down, they’d come up with two possible locations for a floating drugstore.
“I’m thinking here is where we need to check first,” Neil said, pointing at the map. “That’s not where I’d locate the boat, but then, these guys aren’t special-forces trained.”
“Reverse psychology, huh?” Alex said.
“Most times, your enemy is not as smart as you are.”
“What if they’re at a camp instead?” Miri asked, pouring more cola into her glass.
“Might be, but I’m willing to bet it’s on a boat,” Alex said. “One that can move fast in case the Coast Guard or the DEA comes after it.”
“Or one that isn’t that fast, but can easily be destroyed,” Neil added.
Alex blinked. “Good point. I hadn’t thought of that.”
“So what keeps these guys from just taking off once you find them?” Miri asked.
“Boats aren’t a problem,” Neil said, rising from the table. “They’re vulnerable to all sorts of malfunctions. I’ll rig something up.” He vanished to the front of their boat. As Morgan finished off her lunch, strange sounds began, like Neil was hauling something around.
“What’s he doing?” Miri asked.
“Going full-metal SEAL. It’s a sight to see,” she replied.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning he’s getting the inflatable Zodiac ready so he can do some recon work. He’ll probably rig up a few C-4 charges to disable the Russian’s boats.”
“C-4?” Alex said, nearly choking on his drink. “He has explosives on this boat?”
“Sure. The Iceman never leaves home without them, or his tactical knife. It’d be like me going out without my lipstick or my gun.”
He blinked in astonishment, sharing a look of surprise with his sister.
Morgan laughed. “Welcome to the big leagues, dude,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Do your best to keep up.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The plan was surprisingly straightforward: Alex and Neil would take the Zodiac farther into the bayou in hopes of scouting the position of the “mothership,” as they’d taken to calling it. Once they had an idea of where to set up surveillance, Morgan and Miri would position the bigger boat to keep an eye on incoming traffic. That way, if trouble showed up, they could give the guys a warning.
The part of the plan that Alex didn’t like was leaving Morgan and Miri on their own. It was completely irrational. Morgan had saved his life multiple times by now, and more important, had proved she could watch out for his sister. Still, they were the two women he cared most about in this world and he couldn’t stop worrying.
After an hour of preparation, he and Neil were dressed like fishermen, rods and a bait box in plain sight as they headed toward their destination. Under a tarp was his companion’s scuba equipment and weapons, along with the explosives. Apparently the reconnoitering would involve underwater work as well.
Alex’s mind circled back to the women. “I don’t like leaving them alone,” he said, just like he’d said at least two times before.
“Morgan’s lethal, and your sister can get seriously hardass if she needs to be. She proved that this morning.”
“What happened with those guys?” Alex asked.
“It was four dudes in a couple Jon boats. They saw your sister first, alone, so they made for us like we were a cold beer in a hot desert. I suggested Miri go below. She did, and she returned with a pump-action shotgun and a box of cartridges.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. One of the boats went to the port side, the other to starboard. Classic boarding maneuver,” Neil said, steering them around a floating log. “Miri was on port. The guy got his hands on the gunwale and found himself facing a shotgun. She’d racked the slide before he tried to climb in, and the tango backed off real quick. Especially after she told him she was going to take his fucking head off if he tried to get on board.”
Alex laughed. “You know, I was so worried about that girl all those years, and she’s . . . awesome. Better than I hoped.”
“She’s tough. She mus
t have gone through some bad shit to get that way, though.”
That made Alex sober. “She did, but she never told me about any of it, even when I asked. Miri ran away for a while, lived on the streets. Had to have been hell for her.”
“Your family didn’t take care of her?” Neil asked, his voice hard now.
“My sister and my ex-wife hated each other, so Miri went to live with our mom’s sister and her husband. They couldn’t deal with her. She took off twice, I think. Scared the hell out of me, because there was nothing I could do to help her,” Alex said.
“Now you can,” Neil said. “That’s all that matters.”
Alex sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the ache in his chest. “Yeah, that’s all that matters.”
He turned his attention back to the bayou around them. When he and Morgan were headed toward their graves this morning, there was nothing pretty about the place. Now that it wasn’t trying to kill him, he rather liked what he saw. Around them, gray-green Spanish moss draped from the trees and was reflected in the placid water. Occasionally, a dock would jut out, leading to a run-down camp. One constant was the gators, either sunning themselves on the bank or gliding through the water.
“Damned things,” Alex said, remembering all too well his too-close encounter with the prehistoric beasts.
“Just efficient hunters,” Neil replied.
“Like you?” Alex asked, before he had the good sense to edit his mouth.
The man didn’t appear offended. “Exactly like me.”
“What made you become a SEAL?”
“Because I wanted to make things right in a world that’s so messed up, it can’t help itself.”
Alex nodded. “Same with me. I had a friend who was one of you guys. Avi told me a couple of totally wacky stories, the only missions he could actually talk about.”
“Avi Brinkman?”
“Yeah. You know him?”
“I met him a few years back. He’s one tough SOB. I never could drink the bastard under the table.”
“Tell me about it. I lost that bet. Cost me a hundred bucks.”
They shared Avi stories for a time, and he actually saw Neil smile. Well, at least what passed for a smile when it came to the Iceman.
“What are our chances of bringing Buryshkin down?” Alex asked.
“Not great,” Neil replied. “He’s got the kind of clout that makes evidence and witnesses disappear forever. It’s happened before.”
“Just my kind of odds.”
“Hooyah!”
The stakes kept rising for him, his sister, and for Veritas. They had to secure the drugs and ensure that Buryshkin and his daughter went to jail for life. Anything less was unacceptable.
They settled the Zodiac in a cove near the shore, as if it was their fishing spot for the day, just two guys drowning worms.
“What do you think?” Neil asked, passing the binoculars to Alex. “The boat’s not designed to move fast in case of trouble, but it’s big enough to house a drug operation.”
Alex studied the houseboat in the distance, the kind used for party trips into the bayou. People milled around inside it, but beyond that, he couldn’t see much detail. What made it different were the four smaller boats tied around it. One was just pulling away, headed back the way they’d come.
“Is that one of the boats you were tracking?” Alex asked. Neil nodded. “Okay, then. Can we get any closer?”
His companion shook his head. “We can’t, but I can.” He dug under the tarp and began preparing the scuba gear.
“I don’t want to diss your SEAL rep here, but there are things in this water that would consider you a very tasty meal. I speak from experience on this.”
Neil shrugged. “Business as usual. Sharks or gators. Something always wants to eat you,” he replied, not sounding the least bit concerned.
“How do you handle them?”
A knife came out of a nylon sheath. Avi had one just like it, a custom-made Winkler blade, eight and a half inches long and wicked sharp.
“Okay, that oughta do it,” Alex said. “I’ll just stay here and count mosquitoes, how’s that?”
For a second, his companion seemed amused. “You any good at climbing trees?”
“Usually. The ribs are a little sore, but I can probably get it done.”
Neil pointed toward the shore. “Pick a tree and get up high. That way, you’ll be out of sight, and you can give me a bird’s-eye view of what’s going down on the water.”
It was a sound idea. “Consider it done.”
“While you’re getting into position, I’ll check out the main boat and make sure it’s what we think it is.”
“Tempting though it is, don’t blow anything up.”
Neil kept checking valves and other pieces of the gear. Alex had no idea what he was doing; scuba diving had never interested him.
“I’ll be sure to leave enough of the boat intact so the feds can swoop in and play cops and robbers.”
There was more than a note of derision in that last sentence.
“If anything looks strange, I’ll let you know,” Alex said.
“Thanks. Have Miri move the boat here,” Neil said, swiveling around to point to a section on a folded map. “That way, if anyone does get past us, they’ll take care of them.”
Which was the last thing Alex wanted them to do, but he had no choice. He wasn’t in charge of this mission now, and he had to trust that Neil knew what he was doing.
“If I didn’t say it already, thanks for saving my sister’s life.”
The man issued a curt nod. “Thank you for giving Morgan a fighting chance. She told me what went down this morning, how you took one of the tangos over the side with you.”
“It was the best I could do. Luckily, it worked.”
Neil sent his gaze in the direction of the houseboat. A few minutes later, he went over the side of the boat backward, with nary a splash.
Just like a damned shark.
Alex shivered at the lethality involved in that kind of stealth. Once again, he thanked God that the Iceman was on their side.
*~*~*
Climbing a suitable tree proved to be a giant pain in the ass, especially with how sore and stiff he was after his morning date with the chains and water. Alex settled on a thick branch, allowed himself a well-earned groan, then hefted the binoculars to check for any sign of his cohort in the water. And came up with zip. Neil had already warned him about that, but Alex hadn’t believed him. Now he did.
“Freaking ninja frogman,” he muttered, but it was in awe. His radio’s earbud crackled in his ear, and he pushed it in for better reception. “I’m in position,” he reported.
“Roger. It’s the mothership,” Neil’s strangely altered voice confirmed. “Rigging the propeller now.”
“Roger. I’ll let the damsels know.”
Alex switched channels and reported to Morgan. She was in charge of contacting Crispin, who would in turn contact the DEA and get the whole shooting match going. But how long would it take for their team to arrive?
Another of the smaller boats departed with a single occupant. Unless you were looking for the bigger vessel, tucked back in this remote cove, you’d never realize that a drug-running operation was right under your nose. Alex adjusted himself on the branch, trying to ignore the mosquitoes and the occasional larger bug that skittered across his hand or leg. As he turned his head, something caught his attention: a large snake slithering its way down the tree toward him.
Ah shit.
It was black and shiny and seemed huge from his position. As a Texan, Alex knew a venomous snake when he saw one, but he didn’t know Louisiana’s killers that well. It wasn’t a cottonmouth, but that didn’t matter—it was a snake and headed right for him. His hand dipped to the knife in the sheath at his waist, the one Neil had given him from the boat’s armory.
Now that the thing was closer, he was relieved to see that it had none of the characteristics of a pit viper. In fact, it lo
oked like a black rat snake, which could bite you if you messed with it, but wasn’t poisonous.
The thing veered its way toward another branch and then downward, as if Alex didn’t exist. He let out a puff of air, sweat dripping off his forehead, and the reptile continued to the ground, then headed off, doing whatever its snaky brain told it to do.
He leaned his forehead against the tree bark, trying to slow his heart rate. After a few moments, he began his vigil again, keeping an eye on the mothership while searching, in vain, for any sight of Neil. If he encountered one more snake, he was totally going to lose it.
*~*~*
He’d dived under worse conditions, but bayous and swamps weren’t Neil’s favorite locations. The visibility ranged from two to six feet, and was only made worse by the churning of one of the smaller boat’s propeller as it departed—not to mention the constant threat of alligators and venomous snakes.
He’d completed a thorough recon, beginning with the small boats, attaching a tracker to each one. Then he’d moved on to the houseboat. It took a bit of time to rig up the explosive to its propeller—not enough to destroy the ship, but enough to keep it from moving. Once that was done, he was golden.
Still, something held him in place. A fellow SEAL had called it a sixth sense. He just called it “this shit doesn’t feel right.” If he were a paranoid Russian mafia boss, he’d make sure there was a way to destroy the incriminating evidence, and his employees, if needed. No evidence, no witnesses, no problem.
Moving forward, Neil inspected the bottom of the houseboat, foot by foot. He wasn’t surprised when he found two explosives attached to the keel, C-4, just like he had used on the propeller. These bombs were overly large and crude, not done by a pro. Probably rigged by some fool who’d learned his skills on the Internet. Neil disassembled both of them, letting the explosive material drift to the bottom of the bayou.
After another check to ensure he hadn’t missed anything, he headed back toward the Zodiac. As he swam, he found himself thinking about those men who’d swarmed around the yacht that morning. How they’d have been an excellent distraction if someone wanted to attach a bomb to the hull.
Cat's Paw (Veritas Book 1) Page 27