by Glenn Trust
After releasing the cables, the operator repositioned the crane over the deck. The mate closed the container and resealed it with an identification tag registered and purchased from the cargo master in Lázaro Cárdenas.
The Captain called the crew back to the deck, and the freighter increased speed again. The whole operation had taken thirty minutes. It was nowhere in sight as the Sara Jane approached the cargo floating on the swells.
*****
If the engineering and planning going into the operation were intricate, its purpose was simple—avoid any of the common points of interdiction by the many law enforcement agencies, patrolling the coasts. The solution was to make the transfer at sea to a registered U.S. craft outside the usual points of interdiction. That’s where the Sara Jane came in, a known shrimp trawler, operated no less by a U.S. senator.
Bebé Elizondo demanded the best and paid for it. To execute the plan, cargo handlers concealed a military-grade, heavy-duty pontoon cargo raft capable of carrying forty thousand pounds inside a cargo container. Nestled amongst hundreds of others on a cargo ship, the container was unidentifiable from those carrying other Mexican exports like tropical fruits and vegetables, vehicle parts, electronics, medical instruments, alcoholic beverages, even gold, and silver. The only difference was that the contents of Elizondo’s special cargo container far exceeded the value the others.
After making the passage through the Panama Canal and working its way to the north, the captain prepared for the transfer at sea. He monitored weather conditions and the movements of drug interdiction ships and aircraft that might wander near their route.
When the weather conditions were favorable and the skies and waters clear of encroaching shipping and law enforcement activity, the captain identified a precise set of GPS coordinates as the drop point and sent them to Julio on the Sara Jane.
Fees paid to the captain, first mate, crane operator, cargo handlers and engineers to design and execute the operation soaked up three hundred thousand dollars of Elizondo’s profits. Another hundred thousand went for the custom-built pontoon raft that could handle the load. It was pocket change.
The base value of the five thousand kilos, a little over ten thousand pounds, of cocaine at the current market rates figured to be about one hundred and twenty-five million US dollars. Once the pure cocaine was cut and repackaged in one gram hits, the street value would soar to almost a billion dollars, give or take a million or two.
Elizondo was a lot of things, but he was no fool. With transport and delivery costs well below one percent of the street value, he was more than happy to cover shipping and delivery.
The process was more complex than running a truck across the border, but if this shipment was successfully delivered, future loads would be larger and bring even greater returns. Bebé was going to be a very happy man.
*****
Sams steered for the coordinates Julio indicated, making slight adjustments as the pings on the raft’s GPS transponder sent signals of its drift in the current. By the time he pulled alongside the raft, the freighter was miles away. They were alone on the black ocean.
Moya was now in command. At his nod, Paco secured the raft to the trawler and climbed over the side while Hermie got the starboard net crane operating.
Ten separate five hundred kilo bundles were packed with Colombian cocaine. One by one, Paco fastened the hoist chains to a bundle, and Hermie lifted it and deposited it on the deck, taking care to distribute the cargo evenly and maintain the Sara Jane’s trim in the water.
It took less than an hour to complete the transfer. When the last bundle rested on the Sara Jane’s deck, Hermie hooked a chain saw to a safety line and lowered it to Paco. With the saw in hand and safety line securing him to the crane’s hoist chain, Paco went to each pontoon, cutting into the industrial grade laminated fabric along its length. A loud hissing filled the night air as the pontoons deflated.
When he finished, the raft was almost below the water. By the time Hermie hoisted Paco up to the deck and deposited him gently beside one of the bundles of cocaine, the steel frame of the raft had dragged the deflated pontoons down to the ocean floor three hundred feet below.
Tully Sams turned the Sara Jane to the west, making for a tidal estuary along the coast between Brunswick and St. Mary’s. They would wait for high tide and then cruise inland to offload into vans at a small private dock on a piece of land Bautista Ortega had purchased through a third party. From there, Bebé Elizondo’s cargo of cocaine destined to the United States markets was only a few hours away from hitting the street.
Tully Sams wondered if his grandfather had felt the same rush of adrenaline surging through him, during his runs from Cuba loaded down with rum. He couldn’t help grinning and sticking his head out of the deckhouse into the breeze, sucking in the salt air and relishing the tingle in his spine. It was a damned fine feeling.
35.
Acting Stupidly
“I have to speak with Bebé.”
Sillman imagined Alejandro Garza’s cold eyes peering at him through the phone. He felt like a squirming lab specimen awaiting dissection.
“A moment,” Garza said without question or comment
The line went dead. For a moment, Sillman thought he had disconnected, wondering what he would do if that were the case. He had mustered all his fortitude to make this call. The thought of phoning a second time tightened his sphincter and sent a shiver up his spine.
Elizondo came on the line. No doubt he had discussed the possible reasons for the call with his lieutenant while Sillman waited.
“Yes, James,” Bebé said in a voice as smooth as warm butter. “What would you like to speak about, at such a late hour? I have reports that all is well with the first shipment.”
Sillman had almost forgotten. Tully Sams had sailed today with Ortega’s men to make the transfer from the freighter to his trawler.
“Yes, I am sorry for calling so late,” He continued, trying to sound confident, knowing that he sounded just the opposite. “There is … uh, something we should discuss.”
“Something that cannot wait for tomorrow? It must be important.”
“It might be.”
“Please tell me.”
He could see Bebé, his smooth, round face relaxed, sitting back in his leather chair smoking a cigar, a glass of wine on the table beside him. Alejandro Garza would be watching, intent, fixed on what his Patrón might say, waiting for orders.
“There have been some … inquiries,” he began, trying to find a way to say it without choking on the words.
“What sort of inquiries? Please be direct, James. The hour is late.”
“Yes, I know. Sorry.” He took a deep breath. “I was … we were visited by detectives today.”
“Detectives? You mean the police.”
“Yes, that’s right, the police.”
“And what did these detectives inquire about?”
“They wanted to know why Wilson Bettis was meeting with Bautista Ortega. In their words, Ortega is a suspected drug lord.”
“Oh, I would say that is an overstatement,” Bebé said, sounding amused. “He is far from being the lord. Still, he plays a valuable role in our organization.” He returned to the point, his voice sounding more serious now. “How did these detectives know your assistant met with Ortega?”
“He was seen there … at the club … at Eruptions.”
“Yes, I know this club. I have been there myself with Ortega on a visit to Atlanta. There are no cameras to record and a secure back entrance, so you say he never had a meeting with anyone there … that whoever saw him is mistaken. They have no proof, and all is well.” Elizondo paused. “This is what you said, correct?”
“I …uh … I’m afraid not.” Sillman wiped at the beads of sweat breaking out along his hairline. “You see … they set us up.”
“You mean they tricked you.”
“Yes,” Sillman said, his head bobbing up and down to emphasize the unfair tactics the
detectives employed. He realized that Bebé could not see him over the phone and continued, “They tricked us. They met with us alone using the pretext they wanted to know more about the drug trafficking legislation … said they wanted to support the idea.”
“That sounds harmless enough.”
Sillman took a deep breath. “Then out of the blue, they said they had information Bettis had been at Eruptions with Ortega. It happened so fast, the way they came at us. We couldn’t coordinate ... had no idea what they were asking or how the other answered the questions.”
“Yes, the police can be deceptive,” Elizondo said dryly. “What did you say … you and your assistant?”
“Bettis said the meeting with Ortega was to get support for the anti-drug program. They confused him.”
“Your chief aide, the man you trusted, was confused?” There was acid in Elizondo’s voice.
“Well … I mean they surprised him. They implied they had a video of the meeting.”
“Obviously, that was a lie,” Elizondo said.
“Yes, they lied about that, but they were so adamant about it … said someone noticed him because he wore a business suit and didn’t fit in … drew attention and got recognized.”
“Who is the someone who recognized him?”
“I don’t know.” Shit. Sillman felt the earth crumbling away beneath his feet.
“He wore a business suit to this nightclub?” Elizondo persisted. “To meet with Ortega? That seems foolish. Still, he could have simply denied being there and all would have been well.”
“Yes, but like I said, they tricked him … confused him with their questions. They came at us out of left field. We didn’t expect it … weren’t prepared for it.”
“You must always be prepared,” Elizondo interrupted, his voice taking on a harder edge now. “And you, James. What did you say to the detective who visited you?”
“Why, I was as surprised as Bettis. Maybe more so. No one questions a senator like that without some advance notice. There are protocols …”
“You could have said so to the detective and told him to follow the protocols … ended the conversation until we had spoken.”
“I suppose I could have,” Sillman whispered. “I see now that I should have.”
“But you didn’t.” The hard edge in Bebé’s voice had ice on it now. “So what did you say?”
“Not much … I, uh … I told him that Bettis does many things for me.” He took a breath to calm himself before continuing. “I was boxed in, you know. Without knowing what Bettis said, so I … I mean I might have said I knew Bettis had arranged to meet with Ortega.” He added quickly, “But I told him I had no idea of the purpose.”
“In other words, you confirmed the meeting between Ortega and Bettis,” Elizondo said his voice rising in volume.
“Well, when you put it like …”
“Do not interrupt! You confirmed that whoever had given them the information was correct … that Bettis was at Eruptions in a business suit meeting with Bautista Ortega! Estúpido!”
There was a pause of several seconds. Sillman had the sense that there was a slow fuse burning at the other end of the call. He didn’t want to be there for the detonation.
“I expected better from our partnership and from you,” Elizondo said, his voice controlled and flat.
“Yes,” Sillman nodded to himself. “I see that now. They won’t surprise me like that again. So … uh …” He hesitated to ask, afraid to hear the answer. “What should we do? Just tell me, and I’ll take care of it.”
“I think you have taken care of enough for the moment.” His words clipped, his tone harsh, the melted butter was gone from Bebé’s voice. “Do nothing. Make no more calls. If the detectives call on you again, you know nothing more than you have already told them. You have acted stupidly ... you and your assistant. We must correct things now.”
“All right, I’ll do as you …”
The call ended. Bebé was gone.
Slumped in the same chair where he had answered questions from Detective Sole, Sillman looked out over the city lights. They were a whirling blur.
Elizondo’s words rang in his ears. They had acted stupidly. Sillman had seen too much to have any illusions about what that meant.
36.
Resolving Problems
“What has happened is unacceptable!”
“Yes, I understand, but …”
“Do not interrupt me!”
The ice in Bebé Elizondo’s voice froze Bautista Ortega.
“There, in the north,” he continued. “They may call you El Toro. To me, you are the little boy I took from the gutter. I fed you, clothed you, sent you to school … taught you the ways of our life … what it means to be part of our world. I taught you the price for failure.”
“You have my apologies,” Ortega said El Toro, the bull, meek before an even bigger bull.
“Your apologies mean nothing!” Elizondo took in a deep breath and waited a moment before continuing. When he did, his voice was calmer, but the tone remained icy. “Someone saw you with Sillman’s man. The police are now questioning why a senator would have contact with you. We based our entire operation on the relationship with Sillman, and you have the police looking into that relationship!”
“But they learned nothing, Bebé. I spoke to an investigator.”
“You? You spoke with an investigator!” The fire was back, and Elizondo pounded his fist on the side of his chair as he shouted into the phone.
In the hallway outside, Sofia hustled the children away from their father’s office. Inside, Alejandro Garza sat across from Bebé, dispassionate and implacable, waiting for his orders.
“Yes, but please hear me out,” Ortega said. He was walking through a minefield, and the next step might be his last.
“Speak!” Elizondo shouted. “Explain why I am finding out only now you have spoken to the police!”
“Because it only just happened yesterday afternoon. I did not want to disturb you in the evening. I know how important your family is to you.” Ortega took a breath to slow his pounding heart. “I was going to call you this morning, but you have already spoken to Sillman. I swear to you, Bebé. They have learned nothing.”
“And why are you so certain they learned nothing?”
“Because of the questions he asked … or didn’t ask.”
“Explain.”
“It is a simple thing. The detective did not use subterfuge in his questions. He only said they had a witness who saw me with Sillman’s man.”
“And to you, this means what?”
“It means they are trying to confirm the witness’ story, but they have nothing as long as we deny it.” Ortega nodded at the phone on his desk and said. “I denied it.”
“Yes, well Sillman’s man was not so insightful when they spoke to him,” Elizondo said, disgust in his voice. “He admitted to having met with you.
“That is his word against mine, and I will continue to deny any such meeting. There is no proof.”
“You keep saying that.” Elizondo shook his head. “I am not so certain.”
“There is no proof. I understand that there are some weak links.” Ortega knew it was time to play the card that might yet save his life. “The weak links are the only ones that can harm us,” he said, his tone fervent, making it clear he was not one of those weak links.
Elizondo glanced at Alejandro who nodded to confirm the truth of Ortega’s words. Failure had a price. It was the rule that Bebé had employed with ruthless abandon while putting together Los Salvajes.
“All right,” he said, quieter now. “The mistake has been made. We will overlook how it was made for the moment. We must eliminate the problem it created.”
“Would you like me to handle the problem?” Ortega asked, already knowing the answer.
“No. I am sending Alejandro. He will guide you.”
“Very well.”
“Look for him tomorrow evening. When he arrives, he has tota
l control. Provide whatever he requires. You understand?”
“Understood.”
Bebé punched the button ending the call and turned to Alejandro. “Difficulty?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Garza’s brown eyes narrowed. “Ortega?”
“No.” Bebé shook his head. “Not now. We need him.” He added with a shrug. “And he may be right. There may be no cause for concern.”
“Sometimes it is better to eliminate concerns before they arise.”
“This is true. But we must be careful not to overreact.” Elizondo nodded. “The operation has just begun, and we have had our first success with the shipment last night. We must take care not to jeopardize the future in dealing with the present situation.”
“As you instruct, Bebé,” Alejandro nodded out of respect.
“Do you expect any problems?” Elizondo asked, bringing them back to focus on the issue at hand.
“There are always intricacies to work out … contingencies to plan for.” Alejandro said calmly. “Nothing I can’t handle. There will be no connection to Los Salvajes … or to you.”
“I am confident you will see to things with your usual efficiency.”
“One question,” Alejandro said, focused on the task at hand.
“Yes. Alejandro. Ask it.”
“You wish me to resolve … all issues?”
Resolving all issues, as Alejandro put it, was one thing in Mexico where they owned the police and much of the government. North of the border, it was something else entirely.
Bebé thought about it for a moment then shook his head. “Not just yet.”
37.
Too Damn Late
Tully Sams let the Sara Jane idle its way around the back of Cumberland Island to Fancy Bluff Creek, the sound that separated the island from the mainland. Mainland was more of a technical term than a physical reality. The land here was salt marsh and saw grass stretching in places for miles to the western horizon.