by Frank Dorn
“No.”
“They didn’t even know they company was missing.” This from the kid.
“Charlie, are you the infamous Charlie that sometimes does dark web work for Earl?”
“I wouldn’t exactly describe it that way.”
“He’s really weak on the dark web. He even hired an undercover cop.”
Billy smiled and took another drink. “How did you end up working for Charlie?”
“I tried to rob him, well, me and my family. That’s how we met Bill. He’s the cop Charlie hired to help get his stuff back. Anyway he’s teaching me and helping my dad get his act together which beats him going to jail and my brother and me going into foster care.”
Earl was laughing. “So Billy, do you want James-”
“Jim.”
“Jim to send your navy some instructions?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Only one.”
“Make it so.” He hung up and turned to his secretary. “Go home. Leave the bottle, lose the cap.”
~*~
Starbuck had three phones going almost constantly. He was in the last boat in the flotilla but he was leading it none the less.
Brandie and Akhim were missing. So was the Bolivian Army. Jose, however, was coming with them. Smart man.
There was a hidden bay fed by a minor tributary and in that bay was a tramp steamer which was being painted white and re-named Rupert Ames, painted in big red letters on the bow and stern. From a distance it might pass for the famous Graham News yacht. As long as no one looked too closely.
Close to two hundred tons of pure cocaine was being loaded onto the ship. Transport to the coast, and loading under the most primitive conditions, had taken months, but the planning and hard work were almost over. What happened after that would in some ways be a blessing, and in some ways be a tragedy. The truth was, he didn’t care. The ship and its contents were merely a chess piece. An item to trade for something more precious. And he was nothing if not good at bartering to his advantage.
He and his people would be transported to the United States and they would be released. He had prepared them to be Americans and they would be damned good at it. Better than the home grown version in any case. They were smart, well educated, spoke perfect American, and they were all drug free, honest, and hard working.
They would be a shot in the arm of the national economy, a boost, a cuppa java to stimulate GDP and pay for the heartland drug addicts who had been raised on dreams, looked down on hustles, and given up hope as they grew old.
He looked back up the river once more. He found himself doing that often. He would miss this place, this time of his life. Here he had been a doer, a maker, a dreamer, a planner, and in some ways a visionary. After this he would just be another middle manager because all managers, even CEOs, are in reality just middle managers.
24. 24
The Rupert Ames was four miles off the Peruvian coast. They were holding position, waiting for the Navy to give the okay to move in. The President and Earl Graham had combined forces to convince the fleet commander to let Graham News videographers and reporters onto his boats. The old man had been stubborn, like most naval officers.
The navy saw itself as the 1st line of defense, which it claimed because it was also the oldest branch of the military, at least the US military. In truth the continental army was the oldest, and just because it disbanded after winning the revolutionary war, it remained true. Just don’t try and convince a Navy man or woman of that.
Once the natural harbor had been blockaded by an aircraft carrier and a half dozen other vessels, the landing and boarding craft had been launched. Only one videographer and one reporter were there to capture the event, and the reporting was as breathless as it was uninformative.
Why was the ship being raided by the navy? Don’t know. Who gave the orders? Why wasn’t the Ecuadorean or Peruian navies handling this? Did congress know about this? The UN? Any courts whatsoever? Don’t know.
Don’t know don’t know don’t know.
And then… cocaine. Tons of cocaine. Tons and tons and tons of cocaine. The biggest drug bust ever. And only six crewmen on the boat arrested and none of them spoke English, or Spanish either. That really sucked. No interviews with prisoners.
But at least the Rupert Ames was summoned forward. Reporters were briefed and readied. They would interview sailors who had participated in the raid, they would film the beach, the ships, and the drugs. Two billion dollars worth of cocaine. If it wasn’t a year’s supply it was damned close. Easily ten times larger than any previous bust, this was the benchmark measure in the war on drugs.
And the good guys seemed to have won this one.
~*~
Brandie caught up with Akhim just before he stepped on the python’s tail. The python was not amused, but Brandie and Akhim didn’t stick around. She practically had to carry the old man the last mile to the village. He was spent, and the way he was talking his recovery time involved re-incarnation.
Their spirits revived once they heard the approaching helicopter. Neither would have guessed the US Navy would be coming to their aid, but hovering just above them was proof. They were being rescued. They were going home.
Texts from Charlie’s new assistant lead Brandie to believe there would be a swarm of helicopters coming for them. Just the one was a bit of a disappointment, but not nearly as disappointing as the officious pricks that crewed the helicopter.
They landed and gunmen leaped out. There were mega-machine guns in each doorway, and they had two man crews.
“Not a red carpet welcome.”
“They don’t seem relaxed.”
The head man from the chopper ran toward them. “On the ground now! Face down on the ground! Now!”
Brandie and Akhim didn’t wait to be asked again. “Do they have any idea about the wildlife that lives down here?” Akhim asked.
“Silence!”
They were patted down and searched. Neither minded because both were unarmed.
“Where are your passports?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
Akhim jumped up and pulled out his cell phone. Six guns were immediately trained on him, safeties off. He didn’t care. He strode toward the head man, who wisely backed away.
“This is a cell phone. It works off of satellites so I can call anyone, anywhere. You know who I have on speed dial? Earl Graham. You know who else I have on speed dial? Billy Preston. You know him as Mister President. Do you want me to prove this?”
“That won’t be necessary, sir.”
“Good. We don’t have luggage. Lets get the hell out of here.”
Thirty miles downstream, Brandie spotted someone in a canoe waving at them. “Stop!”
“Not possible ma’am.”
“You need to pick that man up. His name’s Starbuck. He’s very important.”
After much more discussion, the chopper circled around, descended to ladder height above the canoe, and lowered a ladder to the occupant. Moments later Starbuck was seated between Akhim and Brandie.
“So you’re really Akhim Gudan, ex con, founder of nations, movie producer, and friend of the mighty. You, however, are Lea Kalani but you are not Lea Kalani. Isn’t that so?”
Brandie studied him, then hit the crewman next to her. “Ask the pilot to take us up.” The man nodded and headed for the cockpit.
“You’re right. Lea is my stage name, so to speak.”
“And you were here to disrupt the cocaine trade.”
“Correct.”
“I am happy to report you have succeeded.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a tramp steamer filled to the gunnels with coke and your Navy just intercepted it. Practically every gram of coke produced in the Amazon basin this year, and our government just seized it.”
“And you’re technically in custody too, and facing a gazillion year jail sentence.”
Starbuck laughed. “You know who I am? I’m Aar
on K. Starbuck of the Nantucket Starbucks. My family goes back to the slaving and whaling trades and we’re rich as Croesus.”
“Nobody ever says rich as Croesus any more.”
“I wonder why? What did you do after whaling?”
“Patent medicine proved to be the money maker. Now we work in pharmaceuticals, which is how I got into this gig. See, my companies don’t like competition, especially illegal competition, so we – I – came up with a scheme to create a year long coke drought. Meanwhile, my firms are coming out with a dozen new synthetic opiates, and we’ve made a new anti-allergy med that when mixed with a few common household items will create synthetic coke! Well, not really. The fact is, its even more toxic than natural cocaine, but the high feels the same and we’ll make money!”
Akhim leaned back. “So you’ve aided and abetted murder and mayhem, crushed subsistence farmers and families, and nearly got Brandi and myself killed, all to corner the market on toxic drugs that will kill your own countrymen and destroy families too?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds so… negative.”
Brandie turned to the crewman beside her. “How high are we?”
“About eight thousand feet, give or take, ma’am.”
“Fair enough. Thanks.”
She and Akhim grabbed Starbuck and hauled him to the chopper’s open door. The gunners wisely backed away. Starbuck screamed and pleaded, but not for long. They tossed him into the jungle below and didn’t watch him land. He would end up a snack for something.
“I think Charlie should buy the first round.”
“I heard that.”
“And the second, third, and fifth.”
“Who’s buying the fourth?”
“You are.”
“Oh the hell I am. You are!”
It was a long flight back to the aircraft carrier. Charlie, Akhim, and Brandie bickered the entire way.
The End