Smugglers 2 The Sheriff: Sex, Meth & Murder; The Cartel from Tucson to the Florida Keys

by Gerald McCallum

  CHAPTER 20

  The months passed, and it was into fall and getting too windy for some boaters. One day my phone rang, and it was “the man,” and he wanted me to run some crystal meth for him again.

  I told him I was retired and crippled, and much to my surprise he said he knew that. He told me he knew about the hard Rock Café and Terry and the gun fight. What surprised me even more was that he said he had seen me walking on the dock with a limp and my cane, and he knew about my new girlfriend. He said that I would not need to walk on the jet ski, and that I should get it ready. He would talk to me the following week, he said and hung up.

  I thought about what he said and decided that if he called back, I would stick with being retired and crippled. I never notice the enemy without noticing where they stand. I believed he was dangerous because he was stupid, because he thinks that all men will do what he wants because they fear him.

  He did call back about a week later and asked if I was ready for my first trip. I told him no, that I couldn’t make any more trips because of my health, and that I no longer had a partner, as he already knew. He told me that I did not need a partner and that my bad leg did not matter on the jet ski. He also said that if I did not make the trips, he had a couple of guys that needed their nails done.

  We were both silent for a minute, and then I thought of Phoun and told him okay, I would make a few trips for him.

  He got angry, stating, “No, you asshole, you will make trips for me until I say to quit, or you are busted and in jail, or dead. If not, I will have your girlfriend on the street turning tricks and giving head to strangers and then kill both of you. So, get ready, your trip is in two days.” He hung up.

  I put the phone down and sat there thinking about what he had just said. God, I thought, we should never have come back here, as this proves if you are not at the table, you are part of the menu. I had to figure out who the guy was and where the call was coming from. I knew that if I ran, he would kill Phoun, and it would be Elena all over again.

  I got out the jet ski and had Bob tune it up and take it for a run to test it out. When he got back, he said I could count on it, and that it was fast. He told me that since we had become such good friends and that if I was getting “back into the business,” he would feel better going with me.

  I told him that I did not doubt his loyalty or sand, but before this was over it would get very dangerous. I told him I felt it was best that I and only I put myself in harm’s way at this point. “Don’t forget, if this goes bad and I get busted or end up dead, the boat is yours, so you’ll need to take it and leave.”

  I thanked him for all he and Karen had done for me over the past couple of years. He persisted in going with me, but I would not relent, telling him “No, not this time”.

  I got ready for the call, which I knew I had to take or innocent people would be killed. When the call came in, I was not yet set up to trace it, so I did the first pick-up and delivery without a hitch, except they paid me half of what was agreed upon. This proved to me that, as the saying goes, “you dance with the devil, until one day he leads.” It was already coming true, as I had to make the runs, they had cut the money, and now “the tail was wagging the dog.”

  Over the next week, I got set up with a man that works with the cell phone towers in hopes to find my mystery caller. The next call I got with the coordinates for the next pick up occurred, but the best my man could do was to determine the cell tower that the caller’s phone used and he was only able to narrow down his location. This turned out to be a large area over the ocean and land, either on the mother ship in a marina or a house on land. Either way it did not amount to anything. The only way to find him was to get on board the go-fast and get the GPS coordinates heading for home and his radio call signal, or bribe somebody on board for his whereabouts, or kill everyone on the go fast and get the where-to points.

  Over the next couple of trips, I hinted that there was a half million in bribe money available for information on the whereabouts of the boss (caller) and transportation and housing for the person’s family. This was getting some attention but was slow going at best.

  Finally one day a man on the go-fast asked me what would happen to his boss if I found out whom he was and where he was located. Taking a chance, I told him that the boss would die, and all of a sudden things got really quiet. He then asked me when he would get the money and would be able to move his family to the US.

  I told him he would receive half the money the day of the deal and the other half when the boss was found. Housing and moving the family would follow. He said he would take care of the family, and that he wanted me to bring the money next trip. After shaking hands on this, I left with my load.

  Later, after unloading the goods and getting my pay, I decided to plan my next move. Of the plans I came up with, the one with the best chance of succeeding, I thought, included the demise of the other two men on the boat and the sinking of the boat with the goods on it. I would then call in to say that the go fast never showed, but that there were lots of DEA there, and ask them what happened to my load.

  If all went well, the boss would think they all went down with the ship, were killed by the DEA or had been arrested. I got ready for the next trip, packing an extra wet suit and face mask and the two hundred fifty thousand.

  When the day came, I told Bob that if I didn’t come back to take the boat and go. We said our goodbyes in case the worst took place.

  When I pulled up alongside the go fast, they started to load and when the time was right, I shot one of the men in the head. As his body fell into the water, the other man saw me and started firing his machine gun at me.

  The third man who was giving the information on the boss hit him with his gun and knocked him out. I handed my man his two fifty then dragged the man who was knocked out to the side of the boat, tied a block to his leg and threw him overboard.

  My man put on the clothes I brought him, and then we pulled the scuttle valves and sank the go fast and its cargo. I had insisted that we leave the goods on board, as my man would most likely get caught selling it, and I wanted no parts of it. Besides, he weighed at least a hundred and fifty pounds, and there was no weight room for the goods.

  Once we got to land, I took him to a cheap motel and told him to check in under an assumed name. I left him after obtaining the name and address of the boss and stopped by the marina and told the pick-up driver to have the boss call me at noon. I also told the driver that there was no go fast boat, but plenty of cops and DEA. I loaded the car with plenty of guns and ammo and then drove to the boss’s house, as it was approaching noon.

  Part of the plan was that he would be on the phone and his wife would be answering the door. She did and let me in as I stated his name as if asking for a friend. Once inside, I was shown to a room where I found him sitting on his sofa with a phone to his ear. He was speaking in Spanish as I entered the room and when he saw me I heard him say, “Adios” and he hung up. He had been talking about the go fast and then DEA.

  I sat down and showed him my gun and could tell by his demeanor that he knew who I was. I spoke to him in English as I did not want him to know I was fluent in Spanish. I informed him that I would kill him and all those in the house if he did not follow my instructions to the letter. He said he would cooperate and pleaded with me not to hurt his wife and kids. I told him that he needed to come with me, reminding him that I would follow through with my threats if he did not do so. I told him to tell his wife and his housekeeper who was also present that he would be back in about ten minutes, and he did so.

  I gave him my keys and had him drive while I sat in the back with a gun to his head and gave him directions. We drove to the spot in the shopping center parking lot that was free from the video cameras. It was the one that the Chief and his cronies used to use. I made him get out of the car and told him that we were meeting my partner here shortly to cut a new deal. Just then his phone rang and I told him to answer it. He did, speakin
g in Spanish, of course.

  He told the person on the other end that he was being held at gun point and was starting to tell them where he was and who his captor was when I shot him in the back of his head, cutting off his brain stem. He was dead before he hit the ground.

  I searched him for a recorder and took his cell phone in case he had photos or recordings of me. I left him there and stopped at a car wash as some of his blood had splattered on my car. Once back at the dock, I smashed his cell phone into pieces and dropped it in the water at a different slip from mine.

  I heard on the news later that day that they had found his body in the parking lot, and the reporter said he had been a local real estate investor. There was nothing, of course, about his involvement in the drug business.

  I went back to the motel to pay my man the other half of the money and told him that he must leave right away and never come back to the Keys because the Cartel will be looking for him. I started wearing my leg brace inside my jeans so as not to be so conspicuous, in case the wife or housekeeper remembered the brace.

  All was quiet over the next few weeks as I spent most nights with my girl, Phoun, on my boat. The noise eventually quieted down about the boss’s murder, and he was to be remembered apparently as a great man and expert real estate investor.

  It had been a long time, at least since my hospitalization, that any drugs had been on the boat, and Phoun did not even drink alcohol as she was a Buddhist. I had been trying to get my health and strength back and had been staying clean and sober.

  So it was no surprise that Pat came by the stern of the boat one morning to have coffee and said, “Mack, you’ve changed a lot since Terry’s death; you are far more sober then I am used to.”

  “It’s a combination of several things,” I replied. “Terry’s death, the girls leaving, my wounds and spending six months in rehab. Maybe it’s Phoun, too, and the fact that I am approaching sixty. Whatever it is, I can still be meaner than a snake, and I have a new lease on life and no longer want to get in the water to fight a shark.”

  Our little exchange made me think about how I really wanted to just “live and let live and to be just left alone. This was not to be, as I was trying to do just this, I noticed that I started slurring my words and was losing my balance from time to time, also. My doctor sent me for an MRI of the brain, and lesions were found that indicated that I was in the beginning stages of MS. There was no cure, but I could take daily injections that would slow the process with regimens of steroids that would quiet the flare ups. I was told that eventually I would end up confined to a wheelchair unable to care for myself. The doctor felt that it would get progressively worse over the next twenty four months.

  I wished I would be one of the “lucky” two percent that die in their sleep, but I was afraid that I would end up bedridden, shitting on myself and withering away to nothing, all the while being aware of my demise and lack of control. This was not for me, so I decided to find out where Bob’s head was at and if he could control his wife’s (Karen) attitude, I had a plan in mind.

  I knew that she loved him and that she would do whatever was best for the two of them. After swearing Bob to secrecy, I told him about my health problem and explained what lies ahead for me. I told him of my plans to leave the rest of the money to him as well as the boat, if he agreed to stay with me and do my bidding until the end. I told him that I would not allow myself to be confined to a wheelchair and that my plan was to be dead before that time arrived.

  CHAPTER 21

  I had done all I could to avenge Elena’s death at the hands of the Mexican sadist, Tara and Ebony were set financially and off to parts unknown, and I would leave the rest to Bob and Karen. Now all I had to do was provide for Phoun’s future, and I had plenty of time left to do that.

  I met with a local attorney and got all my paperwork in order and then set out to finish my days having fun and partying. Soon I had set into my role as the rich retired man who lived on a yacht and partied the nights away. This time I had to buy my toot from a dealer at retail. I hated seeing him every month or two at two thousand an ounce, but most of all I hated the exposure. I knew that if he or one of his customers took a bust, I would be on the DEA list to go next. Consequently, I bought from different dealers and told each one of them that I wanted pure stuff with no cut. Sometimes it would cost twenty five hundred and sometimes it would just get thrown away it was so bad.

  One night Bob and Karen brought a new dancer to a party on the boat, and I paid her the usual thousand dollars and told her the tip totally depended on her, as it could be from zero to one thousand. She was young, tan, good looking and high when she got on board, and she took the thousand and agreed to the terms. Don’t get me wrong now, I didn’t look like the hunchback of Notre Dame yet, but you could tell by the grey hair and limp that I had been “ridden hard and put away wet.” We partied, drank and did lines like there was no tomorrow, and maybe there wasn’t, for me at least.

  Soon, Bob and I had the two girls dancing with next to nothing on when Pat knocked at the side of the boat and asked if it was a private party. Once she was aboard with drink in hand, she said she had to see what was going on with the loud music and all and if someone needed to be evicted. She said by the looks of things that Bob and I had it under control. She said all this while eyeing the new girl and me and said to me, “Nice catch.” I agreed as we watched her dance with Karen, and then Bob and Pat. I was left to tend the bar and mirror.

  I went to my stateroom and shed my leg brace, which meant that I had to use my cane to walk and which actually looked better than the brace, and I think more distinguished. It was better that I did not join in the dancing, because I would most likely end up on the floor and embarrass myself. I think nothing looks worse than an old fart on the dance floor trying to recapture his youth.

  I felt I deserved to lie with a young good looking woman because I worked hard all my life, and I can also afford it, but no matter how much money you have, you should stay off the dance floor when you are old and crippled!

  Mike, Pat’s husband, showed up to party with us, so we all had more drinks and toot, and everyone was totally nude or well on their way to being nude and mindless. At about midnight there was a knock on the boat and when Karen went to check she found two cops at the door.

  I put on some clothes and went to talk to them. They said they were called about the noise level and asked if they could come in. When I let them in, I noticed that one of them had tennis shoes on and the other work boots. I knew instantly that they were not cops, and I was trying to get to a hand gun that I had stashed under a cushion, but when I looked up, they both had silenced 9-mm’s pointed at me. One of them asked where the others were, and he seemed to me to be the leader. He let two more men onto the boat and sent the first guy to find the others. When they returned to the main salon, it was easy to tell the partiers from the robbers. The partiers were mostly nude and high on cocaine and liquor and were alternately laughing and crying.

  The robbers made us sit down against one wall and told us that they heard we had twenty millions dollars put away from the cocaine business. I told them that they heard wrong, that I was a retired government employee living on a pension and the sale of my house and land back in Texas. I told them that I would give them whatever cash I had, but not to hurt anyone.

  The leader asked me where it was, and I told him it was in my stateroom. He took me there, and I pulled up a corner of the carpet in the closet and reached in a hole under the floor boards and pulled out a large Ziploc bag full of money. I had actually put it in there for just such an occasion. There was twenty grand in the baggie, and I told him that was all I had.

  He became enraged and hit me several times in the face and head with a black jack he had hidden on his person. When he took me upstairs, I was missing a couple of teeth, and my whole face and head ran with blood. The girls cried at the sight of me, except for Pat who was quiet and appeared totally unmoved.

  The leader
told everyone that they would all look like me if they did not give up the real money, and that he was through asking me, but he would start on the women until I gave it up. When neither I nor the women gave it up, he hit each woman on top of her head with his sap (blackjack) until blood ran down their faces. At first there was screaming and crying, and then they all became dazed as the other men tied everyone’s hands together with plastic ties.

  It was hard to sit through the beatings, but I knew as soon as I gave it up we were all dead. They had silenced guns and no masks on to cover their identity. The only one who would survive this would most likely be the leader himself.

  One of the men came up from downstairs with my 12 gauge pump, and the leader threatened us with it. I knew he would not shoot us with it because of the noise it would make. He did however take me by surprise and hit Karen in her face, knocking her out and most likely breaking her nose in the process. The yelling and crying filled the boat now, and he asked me once again where the money was.

  Once again I told him he had it all. He started going after the women again, asking who he should hit first, saying “the one with the perky tits or this one or this one”, and the women cringed as he went down the line, and the men offered their lives instead. I could see Bob’s face out of the corner of my eye and could tell by his expression that he knew as I did that no matter how much he protested the beating of the women, he knew that if they got the money, we were all dead. He was, like me, trying to figure a way to get to a gun, whether it was one of ours or theirs in hopes of giving us a fighting chance. I knew we did not have much of a chance with our hands wire-tied, although I had broken them in the past when I was much younger and stronger.