We waited outside a fish store for him to arrive. When he got there and went inside we were incensed that he didn’t have a driver or body guard. In fact he drove an open air Jeep. He really had it made.
When he came out Bob approached him and asked if he was the king of the dope dealers.
“Yeah, and who in the hell are you?”
He was a big man, over six feet and four hundred pounds. Bob was about five feet ten and two hundred pounds. As the kingpin reached for him, I approached him from behind with my machete in hand. As he was about to get a hold of Bob, I hit him with my machete at the elbow and his arm fell to the sidewalk which to Bob’s relief stopped him in his tracks.
He spun around and raised both arms to grasp me, not knowing one arm lay at his feet. When he came to the realization that one of his arms was cut off by me and after seeing me and the machete and coming to the realization that he was about to die, his eyes got bigger than the spare tire on his Jeep. He turned to run away.
Before he took one step, my machete made that dreadful arc which cut his other arm off at the elbow. Just for one second he reminded me of the Black Knight with no arms or legs in that Monty Python movie.
Then I tried to cut his head off, but it didn’t fall to the ground, just to one side before he dropped dead at our feet.
I’d have to sharpen my blade for next time.
CHAPTER 12
Bob and I made our way back to the boat and headed out for Waimea, leaving Honolulu, the biggest one, for last. By now we were sure it would be harder to get the last one because we thought the word had gotten around that someone was killing the kingpins for each island.
We got our slip and rented a car then drove out to see the lay of the land. When we got to his address I was very disappointed. It was big, opulent and very well protected. It looked like the estate of Tony Montana in Scarface with a gated long driveway with a guardhouse that was manned twenty four seven.
To take him we must get him out of this estate or it would never happen.
A week went by, and he never left the estate. No cars left the place either except for the help’s.
Waimea, also called Kamuela, is unlike any other place on Hawaii Island. Known as paniolo, the Hawaiian cowboy country, this historic area is home to rolling, green pastures filled with cattle, cowboys and ranches. It is a place where stop signs read “Whoa,” instead of “Stop.” It is the home of Kahua Ranch, a working sheep and cattle ranch where visitors can learn about the paniolo lifestyle by exploring the scenic landscapes by horseback or ATV.
It was here that the island kingpin had his own ranch in cowboy country.
But there is more to Waimea than just paniolo. The area was now home to a thriving community, to which the kingpin belonged.
One day over coffee Bob mentioned that there was a big luau at a major hotel for all the dignitaries of the city. “I bet he will be here,” he said and handed me the paper.
After reading the article, I agreed. “You’re right! Now we have to find a way for me to get in there in the next three days.”
Not using my real name made it harder. It was out of the question that I would be invited using my alias name. If I was to get on the list, it would have to be under my real name.
Bob got the list of hotel employees, and to our surprise, there were a dozen ex-felons on it plus another dozen who used drugs or gambled and owed bookies big money. I told Bob that one thing all these years in the business have taught me is felons can’t be trusted to not roll over on you when they get busted down the line, and drug hustlers can’t be trusted ever—that’s not ever. But gamblers can be bought, and they look like regular people but have a secret fear of being killed by their bookie or an even bigger fear is that their family will find out what they have been up to.
“So Bob,” I said, “which of these gamblers don’t drink or do drugs but owes lots and lots of money? Find me that man who’s working the affair.”
He did and the man owed eighty thousand dollars to local bookies. When I met with him I took one hundred thousand dollars in cash and told him I was the paparazzi.
“If you can sneak me in, I’ll give you the one hundred thousand, enough to pay off your bookies and have twenty thousand left over.”
We made the deal. I gave him ten grand so he knew I wasn’t playing him. “You’ll get the ninety at the door when I get in.”
On the night of the gala, I waited outside the food loading door. When he opened it, I gave him the rest of the money and went inside, dressed in my best tux and all.
I saw two people I knew, so I had to stay clear of them or my plan would be for naught.
I found my target in the main ballroom before everyone sat down for dinner and speeches.
My plan was to pose as a waiter, and I prepared a tray. I prepared two glasses of champagne containing a slow acting poison called Sarin.
With champagne tray in hand, I got close to the kingpin and his wife. They were talking to another couple.
“I see you two are empty,” I said smoothly, “so here you go.” I swapped out the glasses.
The wife was collateral damage, but she had been spending the money for years. Money built on the backs of drug addicts that he had supplied. Drug addicts like Teo.
The poison would take two hours to work, so I left.
When I awoke the next morning, the TV was full of the couple passing out at the function. They’d been rushed to the hospital, where they were declared dead. An investigation was to follow.
The good thing about Sarin poison is that a pin sized amount will kill, and in seventy two hours there is no trace in the body for the coroner to find in the autopsy.
The next day we headed out for my estate on the far side of the island from Honolulu. Upon arrival I left Bob on the boat to do his work and went up to the house.
What I found didn’t surprise me, as it was past two in the afternoon. My wife was in her two thousand square foot bedroom, passed out with a half filled drink still in her hand.
There was something new: an ash tray filled to the very top with butts and an open pack of cigarettes.
She had started smoking. God, I thought, she’ll burn the house down.
I tried to wake her to no avail. She just rolled over no matter how hard I shook her or yelled.
“Karen,” I yelled.
Bob’s wife appeared at the base of the stairs. “I know, I know. I can’t do anything with her.”
“Just make sure she doesn’t burn the fucking house down,” I growled.
The next day I met with Bob and handed him a large suitcase with five hundred grand in it as a bonus for the trip we had just done together.
In the meeting I said, “We know there’s one kingpin over all the men we just took care of.”
“I know. I tried to find him in the past but couldn’t.”
“Bob,” I said, “We must find him now or else he will replace the five men we just took care of in two weeks or less.”
He went to work finding the boss, and I went back to the house to try to get my drunk of a wife up. It was four thirty by now, and she was in the den freshening up her drink with one hand, a cigarette in the other hand.
“Are you fucking crazy?” I yelled. “These things will fucking kill you!” I took the pack of cigarettes and her lit one from her and crushed them. “You will not smoke in this house or any car, and if I catch you, there will be hell to pay.”
“God”, she said, “that’s funny coming from a dope dealer whose son and daughter both died on his product. You’ve caused so much misery over the years to thousands of parents watching their son or daughter slowly kill themselves on your shit.”
I slapped her and said, “I’m not a dope dealer and never have been!”
She just looked at me, then broke into hysterical laughter. “That’s rich, it really is,” she yelled at me. “I hate you, you fucking bastard. I more than hate you! I wish you were dead. I wish I was dead, too! I wish both of us could die together so we could j
oin the kids.”
“I miss the kids, too,” I yelled. “But we have to go on, make a life for ourselves without them.”
“How can you even think that’s possible? It was your fault they died, you son of a bitch!”
She ran to her bedroom and slammed the door. I heard the lock click.
“You don’t fucking have to lock the door. I don’t want to be in the same room with you, not even the same house!” I yelled and headed to the garage.
I left the house and went to Tamara’s condo, the second one I’d bought for her. This one cost a million dollars and was worth every penny. I still couldn’t believe that this beautiful and sexy girl could love me, but she did, I had no doubt. I gave her ten thousand dollars a month, and she was available to me any time I wanted her.
I walked in and was greeted with a kiss and a “I missed you! I love you. Where have you been? I tried to call you several times.” Her questions were not accusatory, simply conversation, and I knew every word she said was true.
Tamara made me a drink, took my jacket, and we sat on the sofa kissing and caressing one another. I needed her like I’d never needed another human being.
I undressed her and was instantly aroused at the sight of her beautiful athletic body, the kind you only saw in magazines or on your computer. And she was all mine.
As I stripped her clothes off, she led me to her bedroom where she undressed me, rubbing her hands over my many cuts and bullet hole scars.
It’s funny how a younger woman makes an older man feel better. I felt like a young kid when I was with her. She helped me recapture some of my youth, making me feel taller, thinner, stronger.
I wanted to protect her from the ugliness of the world; I’d fight at the drop of a hat for her.
In her bedroom on the bed, I completed the unveiling of her beautiful body. The sight of her dark skin against the white silk sheets made me lose my breath and my joint get hard. I pushed Tamara onto her back and tasted her from her neck and breasts to her clit.
I slid my hand beneath the cheeks of her ass and spread her legs to give me more access to her body. My tongue and lips couldn’t get enough of her. We made love for hours and hours until I rolled over completely spent and exhausted. We fell asleep in one another’s arms.
When I woke up it was seven that night. We changed and went to a local five star place we liked to frequent. During dinner I gave her a set of three carat post earrings. I had given her lots of gifts over the years we’d been together, including new cars and the condo.
I stayed with her for five days during which we made love in every room in the condo, and even on the balcony under a full moon.
I didn’t want to go home, but eventually I went back to my estate. A week had gone by since I talked to Bob. At a meeting with him he said he had found the supplier for all the islands, but he lived in a big estate that was well guarded.
In fact we were neighbors. To my surprise, I had known this family for five or more years and had no idea of his real identity. To all extent, he was a fine upstanding citizen. I didn’t need to drive by because I knew the house well. I’ve been there many times, the last time being a New Year’s Eve party.
“Bob,” I said, “Figure out how we can do him without being seen! I’ll get back to you at week’s end.”
I made sure Lucia was still alive, then returned to Tamara where she pampered me with great food and drinks and a lot of mind blowing sex.
When I got back to Bob, he still had not figured out a safe way in and out of the kingpin’s compound.
After giving it some thought, I told him to put one of the jet skis in the water. I would look at the target’s estate from the sea.
I took the jet ski out and went down to my neighbor’s cove. He had TV cameras in the yard tracking the ocean and some scanning the yard and house or pools. In order for this deal to work, we must first take out the cameras.
I went home and sat on my sun chair with a drink, and after two or three hours of thinking, I came up with a plan.
I needed to get a few things and made a list for Bob: a Bushmaster 223 with a night scope and 9-mm automatics with silencers as throw downs, a new clean jet ski, stolen or in any case, untraceable, and the kind of baseball cap that won’t allow the wearer’s face to be videotaped.
“Bob, try to get everything ready in two weeks.”
“No problem,” he said, perusing the list. “I’ll order the cap today. It’s online.”
The next two weeks went by slowly, except for the days and nights I spent with Tamara. She’d found a body oil with a scent that drove me wild.
She poured the exotic oil into her Jacuzzi on the balcony. We soaked for an hour, caressing one another in all the right places in between sips of expensive champagne. I must have done something right in my life to be rewarded with the love of this very special woman.
Bob called me that he had all the goods ready, but we decided to wait for college to start, so his kids would not be home, which took another three weeks. I didn’t mind, and neither did Tamara, who had stocked up on lobster tails and raw oysters. She also fed me herbs from China that she said would give me a hard on that would last for hours. Better than Viagra, as it turned out, and Tamara was well pleased. I didn’t want my time with her to end, but soon I had to get down to serious business.
We had one last fling before I embarked on my grand finale.
“Can I invite my girlfriend to join us?” Tamara asked.
“What’s she like?”
“She’s beautiful, a full blooded Hawaiian.”
“She can’t be as beautiful as you. There’s no one like you, Tamara,” I said, nibbling on her neck.
“You are so sweet,” she returned. “So, are you ready for the fuck of your lifetime?”
“Only if you want to. You know I don’t like sharing you.”
“You won’t be sharing me. I’ll be sharing you,” she whispered.
“If you insist,” I said.
Tamara made a call and her friend was there in ten minutes. By then Tamara had me primed.
“This is Lanie,” she said.
Lanie was tiny and exotic with full breasts and wide hips. Not as beautiful as Tamara, she was nonetheless a sensual woman, shy and quiet spoken.
She was a firebrand in bed, giving me head like I’d never had before. After I climaxed, she turned to Tamara, taking my hand to show me where my lover preferred to be caressed. We were a tangle of limbs and lips kissing one another, sucking at secret places until the three of us climaxed at the same time.
I could now die truly satisfied.
On a Wednesday night, I headed down to the boat to put on my gear and do what had to be done!
“Are the guns and jet ski clean?” I asked Bob. “Can I leave them in the water if I have to?
“Yes, of course.”
I saw he had painted the jet ski flat black. “I’ve changed the exhaust to exit under the boat so it’s real quiet,” he reassured me. “I’ve tested the no video cap, too.”
I gave him a thumbs up, then I loaded my guns and night goggles, put on my cap, started the ski and left,
Bob took four big Mylar balloons and kite string to do his part, which was to go to the transformers that serviced the house and its cameras. He let the balloons go up to the power lines and transformer and short them out, causing a black out.
At the same time, I was pulling into the estate from the ocean. Wearing my night vision goggles, I tied off the ski and crept quietly to the house.
Unfortunately the power outage trick didn’t work, as the house was equipped with big automatic generators that came on as soon as the power went out.
Lucky for me I had on the cap so my face could not be videotaped, but I kept my face down anyhow. Moving toward the house, I caught sight of the first of many guards show up in my night vision. I shot the first one with my silenced Bushmaster and kept moving to the house.
I ran into no more guards on the way to the library or office or
study. I looked in the house and saw a light coming from the room the night guards used for coffee breaks when they were on duty.
I went toward that light and let myself in. The room was a kitchen and bath but stood off from the main house. I forced the door open between the main house and that room and found my way to the master bedroom.
The target and his wife were both asleep with eye shades on.
I shot the head honcho twice in the head with my silenced 9-mm. He never moved or made a sound. Lucky for her, because if she woke up, she would be next.
I made my way to the back door and stood in the dark, peering out at the back yard looking for more guards.
While I was there all the lights went on in and outside of the house. They’d found the downed guard and hit the panic button, which in turn sounded the alarm and turned all the lights on. The back yard all the way to the dock and jet ski were as bright as a stadium during playoffs.
I heard screams coming out of the master bedroom. I guess the wife had discovered her husband was dead.
There was all kinds of running both in and out of the house. I stepped back from the window and behind a drape. All I had was my 9-mm and one extra clip, as the Bushmaster was forgotten next to the door going to the master bedroom.
My only chance was to make a break for it. I tried to cross the two hundred yards of well-lit lawn to get back to my ski.
I’ll never make it, I thought to myself, but now is as good a time as any to die.
I burst out of the study room door on a dead run to the dock. I hadn’t gone ten steps when bullets started flying past me as I swerved in and out of the many palm trees. I held up behind one just long enough to take a breather and lay down suppressing fire, with no silencer as I wanted all the sound possible.
I fired in their general direction a half dozen times, not aiming or looking, just pulling the trigger and then running to the ski, again keeping the tree at my back for protection. When I got to the ski I fired more bullets in their general direction. I prayed the jet ski would start and take me out of here.
By the grace of God, it started on the first turn, and I punched it, sliding into the darkness with a hail of bullets following me. On the way home I threw the guns, goggles and gloves into the ocean.
Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin Page 10