Before long, I was moving weight, not like the movie “Blow”, but as much weight as one man could safely move with two distributors.
As the months went by, I got closer and closer to Tiburon and saw the men from the motorcycle gang meeting with him from time to time.
One day Tiburon said to me, “I have a small problem that you might be able to fix for me. I need five hundred keys here next week. Can you do that?” he asked.
“Sure,” I replied, not knowing whether I could or not, “but this must be just between us,” I added.
I went home and thought about how I might get over one thousand pounds across the border. It came to me that the border in Nogales is only fifty miles away, but it was the wrong crossing point. The point would need to be Lukeville in the US. This crossed into a really sleepy border town called Puerto Penasco—Rocky Point that only got busy on weekends when the town went from ten thousand to thirty thousand.
I called one of my friends who had a small plane and asked him if he wanted to make one hundred thousand dollars. I was happy that he not only said yes, but I knew that he had a great plane, and he had been going to Rocky Point over the past several months filming the seacoast for a land developer. The developer wanted to make a film to advertise lots he wanted to sell to Americans.
When I went to meet my pilot friend the day of the trip, I saw that his plane was minus the back doors where a camera was set up in one doorway on a tripod. All the employees at the airport knew the pilot by name and were very friendly and comfortable with him.
The flight was very cold and windy, as the mountains we had to fly over were ten thousand feet high. When we got to Rocky Point, we flew to the coordinates I had been given and landed on a gravel road about eight miles outside of town. A car was waiting for us, and they went right to work loading the plane.
Suddenly they pointed toward town, quickly tossed the rest of the bundles in the plane, got back in their car and high-tailed it out of there.
We could see that behind us was a pickup loaded with men in the back of it, speeding toward us. As we climbed quickly into the plane, the pilot gave it full throttle, and we went taxiing down the hills and valleys of the gravel road with no time to even put on seatbelts. The telephone poles seemed like picket fences as we flew by at a high speed. All the while, we were hoping that there would not be a car coming over the next hill in the opposite direction.
We heard gunfire just as we lifted off the ground. A bullet went through the instrument panel on the dash and hit the air speed indicator as we banked over the ocean. The pilot said he didn’t need it anyway as he had made so many trips for the land developer that he could do it blindfolded.
When we got outside of Tucson we flew to a prearranged spot in the desert, traveling really low and slow. I pushed the bundles out to the desert floor to await pick up.
We went on to the airport and set down. The inspection was quick, and they did not find anything wrong, so we were on our way again in just minutes.
Later that night when Cinco got to my house, he had my money, half in cash and half in goods. I then met up with the pilot to pay him his one hundred grand in cash. Needless to say, he was happy as he had his money and was ready to go again.
I knew Tiburon and my pilot must never meet because neither of them would need me then.
Later that week I met Tiburon at the Oyster Bar and asked him if he could influence the men in the pickup truck at Rocky Point.
“Of course” he said. “I will give them their choice of metals.”
“Gold or lead?” I asked.
“Mexicans don’t like gold; it’s silver or lead”. Tiberon said.
He then asked me who the pilot was and I told him he was my co-pilot.
“I see” Tiberon said. “I didn't know you flew,” and then he looked at me in a strange way.
I knew at that point I was teetering on the edge and that maybe he didn't need me any longer. This realization was much to my chagrin, especially now that the power and the money and all that comes with it had taken me over.
Chapter 3
I met with Tom my distributor and gave him the toot. I always try not to have anything in the house over an eight ball so as to keep things to a minimum if there was ever a bust. I buried other amounts off my property and did not keep anything other than a two gram bottle on my person.
I never kept anything in my car. I would even ask passengers if they were carrying anything, even grass, before they got in my car, and never rode in anyone else’s car, either. I always drove myself.
As a rule I never told anyone where I was going or what I was doing, because people will set you up; wives and girlfriends are the worst. Men have a tendency to cry or show off with women when they are in bed with them, and sooner or later they break up, and the women tell it to the divorce attorney or to the cops to get even.
If you have a desire to go to jail for thirty or forty years, hang out in bars with other druggies, not just dealers, but druggies, because sooner or later you will be in a DEA movie. It seems like dealers get beer muscles at a certain level, and they get stupid and think they are bullet proof or untouchable, and they get high on their supply.
Remember, the DEA has a deep well of money to catch you, and they are always sober, their brains not clouded by grass or alcohol. You must set a goal for yourself moneywise, then get out or move when you reach it. Do not go for one last deal, don’t go one penny over, do not stay in place and retire and just hang out with your old friends. This is a mistake, as even your old friends will drop a dime on you. Even your lover will turn against you, as she will want to stay put.
If you smell the cops around the corner, or if somebody you know or deal with gets busted, disappear; just get all of your money and drive off. Do not tell anybody. Don't take the extra clothes or cars or toys. Leave the bank account open, the house, everything. Leave no forwarding address, make no phone calls to Mom, have no contact with anyone. Make sure you have a new driver’s license set up in advance, as well as a fake birth certificate for your new identity. Leave at the first sign of a bust. That’s the discipline—end up in jail!
About a day after I gave Tom, the distributor, all my blow, he was killed in a car accident outside of Casa Grande, Arizona. They found the cocaine in his car.
I was out all the money from the trip. From what I read in the paper and what I was able to find out locally, there was no connection made between Tom and me. I was lucky, but I still had to find a replacement for him and recoup all the money I had lost. It was both hard and risky to find a secure replacement.
I needed somebody I could reasonably trust. I talked it over with the pilot, and it took him a few weeks to locate someone to work with us. There were the three of us now, the pilot, myself, and his friend who would pick up the stuff and sell the loot.
Over the next six months, we made several trips without a hitch. Then, one day when I was having lunch at the Oyster Bar, a businessman who was a local big hitter in the apartment business came in. He was building an orphanage in Puerto Penasco, Mexico, and needed to get six hundred frozen turkeys across the border without paying duty on them. He was told by his best friend, Tiburon, that I could do anything when it came to the border going into Rocky Point. As I was put on the spot and couldn’t refuse, I told him I would call when I had everything set up.
Needless to say, I was upset with Tiburon for telling him (or anybody for that matter) that I was the man to see for this, but I kept my mouth shut and went to work on the plan.
The day of the transfer, I met up with the truck full of frozen turkeys at the border in Lukeville. The three guards wanted ten turkeys each plus their money. This was referred to as mordeta which means “the bite”. After some haggling, we settled on twelve hundred dollars, and everyone was happy. The transfer went off without a hitch, and I was the only one charged, and the guards got two turkeys each, not ten.
All was going well including my coke business; in fact, I was making so m
uch money I started breaking my own rules!
At first I broke a small one, then a large one, all depending on how you looked at it. I started keeping blow at my house—just an ounce or two, but blow just the same. I kept it handy for sex; sex with Elena, then threesomes, all combinations. Elena loved to be with two men and loved to go down on a woman. Either way, I loved it all, and she was perfect, a free spirit, and twenty years old by then with big tits. You could just say to her, “Let’s get high and call Sue or Jake,” and she would agree more often than not. I kept her in money and cars and would as long as the ride kept going and I wasn’t bored.
Soon, the man who was building the Mexican orphanage wanted me to get one hundred fifty toilets and then seven hundred doors across the border. After that I told him I was done.
On my birthday, he and his son came to Bill’s Oyster Bar and presented me with a new AR-15 with six thirty-round clips in a black canvas gun case. They came in and gave it to me early evening, and by midnight there were over one hundred people celebrating my birthday. This included Elena and her two special friends; the three of them were coming to my hot tub to give me my birthday gift! Shortly after midnight, it was time to leave and find my new gun which was being passed around the crowd. This took about fifteen minutes. The four of us then headed back to my house to the hot tub.
Once home, I fired up the tub, adding some dishwashing liquid for bubbles, and went inside to lay out some lines and pour champagne for us.
The blow was easy, as I had a twelve inch black square marble with six lines cut on it and half of a golf ball size hole to hold the raw coke.
We got higher and drunker, then draped our robes over the bar stools and went out to the hot tub. The tub was six foot round and now covered with four feet of bubbles. As we got in, Elena gave one of the girls a kiss on her butt, and we all started kissing each other. I started playing with all six titties and Elena played with the other two girls at the same time. We kept kissing and fondling each other until we were all so hot, that we ended up inside in my king size bed.
It was great; the ceiling was mirrored, and when I wasn’t eating a woman or tossing her salad, Elena was. We must have looked like two octopuses trying to open a combination lock.
I awoke the next morning holding onto Elena tighter than I ever had and remembered thinking, ‘God I was falling in love with her!’ She was very young, pretty and fun to be with, and she knew she had me wrapped around her little finger, which was, of course, fine with me!
CHAPTER 4
I had a meeting with my new distributor at two in Casa Grande. He was late because a dealer in Phoenix who owed him a quarter of a million dollars didn’t think he had to pay because he fronted at a strip bar for some people who were connected. I told my distributor that there was no word for connected in the Mexican language and to give the guy two days to pay.
In three days he called me and said the dealer laughed at him. I told the distributor that I would meet him in Phoenix at the apartment that night and we would take care of the situation.
When my distributor arrived, we took a work car, clean in and out, and went to the strip bar. There we found the dealer’s car, stole it and took it out to the desert where we set it on fire.
I called to speak to the dealer the next day and told him that the only thing I could see that was worth a quarter of a million was his business and that he needed to get the money or the business was next.
I gave him one day. I heard back from him in less than 24 hours when he told me that if I even came close to the bar I would die. He said to forget the money and to bring him more kilos the next day.
I made up a surprise package for him, and it was about one the next day when he got the call telling him that the five kilos were in the trunk of a car in his parking lot. I knew that there would be fewer customers at the bar at that time.
Of course, he sent an employee out to make the pickup. The package was set to detonate when it was opened. When it exploded, the whole bar went up in flames, and about half of the cars in the parking lot were on fire, too.
That night I received a call on my Trac phone from the dealer, who said he would pay.
“Too late for that now,” I told him. “I want double. And I know where you live and where your kids go to school.” I told him that he had twenty-four hours before I would kill all of them, him, his wife, kids and dog and hung up.
I gave my new Trac phone to my distributor and told him to be careful, but to pick up the money when the dealer called. I assured him that he would call.
I heard on the news that the bar burned to the ground and that all but two customers got out. I laughed to myself, thinking that the customers that did get out had a lot of explaining to do to their wives as to why their cars were at a strip bar in the middle of the day.
The dealer paid up, and I told my distributor not to have any contact with the dealer again. My distributor was blown up a month later in his car.
At this point I thought it might be prudent to contact a man I had known for years who ran a very unique business which I had used many times in the past. For five hundred dollars he would sweep my house, cars and phones to check for bugs.
After checking for me, he found a GPS device on my car and bugs on my phones. We went into one of the bathrooms to talk. He said it’s not DEA work, but somebody is out to get me. His advice was to use their GPS bug to my advantage and never meet at a place I didn’t want them to know about. Park my car outside places to mislead them. This guy would put a red light on the dash of boats that run at night and if the boat gets picked up by radar, for instance, at two in the morning, the light comes on so you go home. If the boat has a GPS device on it, leave it at the dock so the DEA/whoever never knows that the boat goes out. Of course, he charges more for the light which costs about twenty-five hundred.
I was temporarily out of business until I found a replacement for my distributor. Tiburon called and wanted to have lunch with me so we met and he told me that he had heard from one of his men, that there was a big leg breaker asking about me. He had been asking where I lived, what kind of car I drove, that kind of stuff. He didn’t think that the guy knew anything, or so he said. I was sure somebody would leak my information if they hadn’t already, but I kept this to myself.
After the meeting I returned home and spent the night with Elena. I was preparing to leave later that morning. When I went to get in my car, I noticed that a rake was against the wall and that it had been moved. I checked under my car to find several sticks of dynamite attached to my car and wires running to my starter. I cut the wires and removed the bomb, then went to work on the problem and then to the bar. I was sure I had been found.
CHAPTER 5
It was one a.m. when I took a big clip 9mm Colt and hid in the carport. About two hours had passed when I saw a big man creep into the carport and go under the car. When he came out, I was standing there with the nine in my hand, and I hit him with it several times before he got off the ground. I took a pair of handcuffs out of my pocket and threw them at him, and I instructed him to put them on, which he did, of course.
I kept my gun on him the whole time, as he was big and looked very strong. I knew that if he had the chance he could use the cuffs like a garrote, like a scene from the movie No Country for Old Men. I took him inside and cuffed his ankles, too, and had him sit on a folding chair in the middle of the kitchen.
I said to him, “You are going to tell me who sent you if I have to cut off your feet and toss them in the corner.”
He replied, “I don’t know who the head guy is, but my boss told me to do it.”
I asked, “Who do you work for?”
“They will kill me if I tell you!”
“Shit!” I replied, “I’ll kill you! If I were you I would tell me now before I get out the machete and start on your feet!” I punched him several times and started to beat him on his legs with my asp.
“O.K., O.K!” he yelled. “I’ll tell you.” He did and
it turned out that it was the dealer/owner of the stripper bar in Phoenix.
I took him to his car and made him get in the trunk and drove him out on Old Spanish trail to a lonely spot in the desert and let him out. I gave him the keys to his cuffs and told him to take them off.
“I want you to tell your boss that I am going to kill him and his family, and he won’t like the part about his family.” I said, then added, “Never mind, I’ll tell him myself”. Then I shot him three times in the chest.
I policed the area to make sure there was nothing left behind to connect me to him, and I drove home to my house. Later that night a worker and I drove his car downtown, dropped it off and left the keys in it. We left it where I knew it would be found. I had to contend with his boss now, and when it was over one of us would be dead!
Later that day while I was meeting with Tiburon, I told him some of what had been going on, and of course, he wanted to take care of it.
I felt that he and his people were too loose, and I could not trust them with my life. I told him that I would be gone for a few weeks, but that I would keep in touch by Trac phone.
I went home and packed to move temporarily to an apartment I had found in Phoenix, and by this time, they had found the body in the desert.
After getting set up in the apartment, I staked out the strip bar owner’s house to be able to track his comings and goings. He had a bodyguard with him at all times. This guy was big, in good shape and well armed. I knew I had to figure out how to get past him first. He even spent the whole day with him at his office.
I bought a makeup kit from a local magic shop and disguised myself with a tailored beard, then dressed in a suit and went to his office. I got lucky! Upon entering his office, I pulled out a silenced big clip 9mm and told him to buzz in his bodyguard who was not present. When he got there, I disarmed him and had him lie on the carpet, then tied his hands and feet with plastic wire ties. I had just finished tying him up when a suited man came in with a folder, and I had him lie down next to the bodyguard and tied him up, too. The guy would not stop talking, so I told him to shut up or I would shoot all of them.
Smugglers 2 The Sheriff: Sex, Meth & Murder; The Cartel from Tucson to the Florida Keys Page 2