by Lincoln Matt
“Right,” Holm said. “So, here’s the thing, we really need to figure out where our guy is, which means that we really need to talk to your guys. So you’re going to have to tell us where to find them, whether you like it or not.”
James cowered from Holm’s presence as he stepped toward the Haitian man again.
“No, I am sorry,” he cried, nearly sobbing now. “We cannot risk it. We’ve already risked too much just talking to you… I am sorry.”
The man’s eyes flickered back to the ship and then to Holm almost impulsively, and then he squeezed his eyes shut tightly as if to stop himself from doing it again.
“Wait a second,” I asked, looking toward the ship as well. “Are they on there? It’s not just you down here, is it?”
“I… I…” James stammered.
“Out of the way,” Holm said, pushing him aside and starting to go up the docks. I followed him quickly.
“No!” James cried out, his voice trembling. “I’ll… I’ll shoot.”
I had been anticipating this. I whirled around, gun in hand, to find James’s trembling hands holding out his own weapon, pointing it right at Holm.
I hated to do it, but I shot him. Not where it would kill him, but close enough to the chest that no one would suspect that I didn’t at least try for a fatal shot. He fell to the ground, wailing in pain.
“Anyone else want to try?” I asked the others. None of them moved.
And with that, Holm and I walked up the dock toward the ship.
CHAPTER 30
Ethan
Holm and I walked across a ramp connecting the dock to the wooden boat.
The wooden aesthetic of the thing somewhat reminded me of an old ship I found a while back, The Searchers Chance, on which I’d found a log that helped me in the search for the Dragon’s Rogue. But this ship wasn’t nearly that old. It may have been made of wood, but it was newer and fit for a journey at sea.
Holm and I made our way through a sea of crates that I knew most likely contained the drug. We didn’t see anyone else around the main deck, and James, Stanley, and the rest of the workers were still back on the loading dock, likely tending to their friend’s wounds.
I felt bad for shooting him. He’d cooperated with us, after all. But I had to show him we meant business, or at least that Daryl Williams and Clifton Beck meant business. Ethan Marston and Robbie Holm probably wouldn’t have gone that far, at least not so soon, but a couple of drug kingpins from the States probably would’ve escalated things even earlier than we did.
I stopped and looked around just before Holm and I were about to head down into the ship’s cabin, where I assumed that the higher-ups in the cartel were conducting their business.
“Let’s grab a sample,” I told Holm as I moved to open one of the crates. “Bonnie and Clyde will want something to study when we get back to Miami.”
I remembered, fleetingly, that Clyde had called me as Holm and I were getting out of the car back on the beach. I was itching to check my messages, but I didn’t dare while we were on the ship. Someone could overhear or catch us, and then our cover would be blown.
So no, it wasn’t worth the risk to check my messages or try to call Clyde back. But it was worth the risk to get a sample of this drug. If we got nothing else out of this trip, we could at least get that.
I found a crowbar lying against the side of the ship and used it to open one of the crates, grunting as I did so.
There were stacks and stacks of thick but clear bags inside. I could see through the thick plastic material that there were packets of what looked like cocaine and heroin, as well as some kind of gel-like substance that I didn’t recognize.
“It’s just garden variety dope,” Holm complained in a low whisper. “They lied to us!”
“I don’t know, Holm, remember what that gangbanger said last night about ‘putting it together?’” I reminded him. “And I don’t recognize whatever that shit is, do you?”
I pointed at the gel-like thing.
“No, I guess not,” he said, still looking down at the stuff with some skepticism.
“We’ll just take one,” I said, grabbing one of the packages and slipping it beneath my shirt. “See what the lab techs have to say about it.”
Then, I replaced the top of the crate as best I could, returned the crowbar to its original position against the side of the ship, and beckoned for Holm to follow me down into the cabin below.
I pulled my gun out and held it at my side, just in case.
Right as we were about to try to open a wooden door at the bottom of a long staircase, it swung open on its own. Standing there were two hulking Haitian men with guns trained right at our heads.
“Oh, hello there, boys,” Holm said with a nervous laugh. “We didn’t see you there.”
“We’re here to talk to your boss,” I said simply, so they knew we weren’t sneaking on the ship.
The men blinked at us, and it occurred to me that they didn’t know English.
“Who are you? Americans?” someone hollered in a Haitian accent from behind the two men. I couldn’t see whoever it was past their large forms.
“We’re in from New Orleans,” I said, leaning into the best NOLA accent I could manage. “We’re here ‘cause our guy disappeared off the face of the earth.”
There was a long period of silence in which I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re not the police?” the voice asked at long last. “I heard there are some American police here looking for your guy.”
“Our guy?” Holm repeated with surprise. “You mean that dumbass Wallace? Why would the police be looking for him?”
“Damn, what’d he do this time?” I asked. “He hasn’t gotten us found out now, has he? I swear, I knew we never should’ve…”
This tangent had the desired effect, and the two men in the doorway parted to reveal a much smaller man in a bathrobe and not much else that I could see. At least he had it tied shut around his waist.
The man narrowed his beady little eyes at us and cocked his head skeptically.
“You are from New Orleans?” he asked. “What are your names?”
“I’m Daryl Williams, and this is Clifton Beck,” Holm said, gesturing at me. “I apologize for my buddy here, we’ve just got a lot riding on this thing, you see? Business hasn’t been too great as of late, and the po-po are riding us hard.”
“You know how that is,” I added. “It’s a rough business.”
There was another moment of silence before, to our surprise, the little man burst out laughing.
Holm and I exchanged a look. This was not the reaction I’d been expecting.
“Uh, you okay there, Chief?” Holm asked, leaning down to get a better look at the guy.
“Good, good,” the man chuckled, waving us inside.
He snapped something in French at the men with guns, and they let us through, revealing an enormous cabin with luxury wooden floors and walls around a living room area full of couches and lounge chairs. Even so, there was a grainy feel and smell to the place that didn’t quite match the decor.
“Sit down,” he told us, plopping into one of the lounge chairs himself.
Holm and I sat down across from him on one of the couches. The smell, whatever it was, was worse there. I scrunched up my nose despite myself, but the man didn’t seem to notice.
“How is it that you found us here?” he asked, crossing his legs and giving us a small, fake smile.
“We found some idiot junkie who’s in your employment further up by the border camped out in some shack,” I explained. “He put up a good fight, gave me this thing, but we took him out, and he cracked.” I pointed at the wound on my head.
“Ah, I see,” the man said, shaking his head pitifully. “Some of these men in my employment, I swear to God…”
“We know what you mean,” Holm chuckled. “We’ve got more than our fair share of those back in NOLA.”
“I’m certain that you
do. So, you are friends of Abel’s?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at us again.
I got the sense that he wasn’t buying our story yet, though I wasn’t sure why he had let us in instead of ordering his guys to shoot or capture us if that was the case.
“‘Friends’ is a strong word,” I said, scrunching up my face as if disgusted at the thought. “He is an… associate of ours.”
“He came to us saying he could bring us this new drug of yours,” Holm clarified. “Said if we distributed it back home in NOLA, he’d get you to keep supplying it. Act as the go-between. But a couple of days back, he went silent. We came to see what all the fuss was about.”
“We want what was promised to us,” I finished.
“Of course, of course,” the little man chuckled. “I understand. It’s a matter of business, after all.”
He peered almost over his nose at us, which was strange considering he was quite a bit shorter than either of us. I could tell that he was still skeptical.
“You know our names,” I said simply. “And what we do. What about you?”
“They call me Solomon,” he said, not elaborating beyond this.
“Abel and Solomon,” I said. “What’s with these weird street names?”
“You don’t have any in New Orleans?” Solomon asked.
“Of course we do,” I rushed to say. “Just not straight out of the Old Testament.”
“Yeah, we know a guy that goes by the Kid,” Holm added. “That’s the kind of shit we’re talking about back in the States. Wallace was the first one we ever heard of with this Biblical stuff. I always thought he had some kind of complex.”
“‘The Kid,’” Solomon repeated. “Not very imaginative, is it?”
“I guess not,” I admitted. What was this guy on about?
“Wallace,” Solomon said. “This is what Abel called himself?”
“It’s what he told us his name was,” Holm said. “Wouldn’t be surprised if that was just as bullshit as most of what he said to us.”
Solomon burst out laughing again. “You didn’t like this man either, did you?”
“Not really,” I said. “That’s why we’re here… Hey, what do you mean ‘didn’t?’ What happened to him?”
“Did you take out our guy?” Holm asked, clenching his fists and making to stand up again.
Almost as one, the two guards who were still standing by the door stepped forward and took aim at Holm again.
“Stand down, stand down,” Solomon said, waving them away. “He’s just doing his job like the rest of us. To answer your question, Mr. Williams, yes, we were forced to take out Abel. An unfortunate situation, to be sure.”
This guy’s English was impeccable. Way better than any of the other Haitians I’d run into on this mission.
“And why, exactly, would you do that?” I asked through clenched teeth as I made a show of forcing Holm back into a sitting position.
“Yeah, do you not like tapping into the American market or something?” Holm asked defensively. “I’m telling you, we could open doors for you that you wouldn’t even dream of.”
A flicker of annoyance flashed across Solomon’s face, but it disappeared shortly, replaced by a sense of phony politeness.
“Of course not,” he said. “We have no intention of going back on our plans to expand into your market. And we no doubt hope that we can continue our partnership, even though Abel is no longer with us.”
“We’re glad to hear that,” I said. “But you didn’t answer my question. What happened to our guy, and why?”
“I thought you didn’t like him any more than I did,” Solomon said, crossing his hands over his belly, which poked through the bathrobe. “Why don’t we just move on from this, shall we?”
“You see, we can’t really do that,” I explained. “We were talking to some of your guys back there—sorry about the mess, by the way—and they said something about Abel stepping out on us, wanting to move into other markets in the States without our say so. And we need to know if there’s any truth behind that.”
“The mess?” Solomon chuckled. “What do you mean by that?”
“Eh, we had to shoot one of your dock workers,” Holm admitted with a shrug. “He was being… difficult. But we figured guys like that aren’t hard to come by. And he should live anyway if he gets patched up alright.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Solomon said, waving this information away dismissively and relaxing a bit in his chair. “You’re right. There’s no short supply of grunt workers down here. Frantz, Josué, go check it all out and bring the offender downstairs if he still lives, patch up his wounds.”
I winced. I didn’t want James to get in any trouble, but I knew that Clifton Beck wouldn’t give a shit about that, so I couldn’t say anything. I hoped that Solomon was telling the truth, and the guards were just going to give him medical care, but somehow I doubted it.
“You never answered my question,” I said. “What did Abel do, and what did you do to him?”
“It’s just as you were told, the idiot American man got greedy, wanted more product than we could give him,” Solomon explained. “So I killed him. This shouldn’t concern you. He was stepping out on you just as much as he was disrespecting me.”
“Fair enough,” Holm said. “We don’t mourn Jake Wallace. But we do want to make sure that we’re protected here. What was this you were saying about American policemen coming down here?”
“Oh yes,” Solomon said, scrunching up his face in disdain. “I’ve had my men investigating that. Apparently, two American men from some federal agency—the FBI maybe, or the CIA, I don’t remember—well, they came down to investigate Abel’s death after the Dominicans found his body. The situation will be taken care of, I assure you. They’re not much of a threat.”
I didn’t know what offended me more, that this strange little man didn’t think we were a threat to him, or that he thought we worked for the FBI or the CIA. MBLIS was always getting shafted, even outside of the United States, it seemed.
“If the FBI is involved, this is way worse than we thought,” Holm said darkly. “We’re going to need some assurances from you if you want to keep our business. Way more than just that you’ve got it covered because it seems to me that you don’t.”
“It does, does it?” Solomon asked. “What makes you say that?”
I jumped at this opportunity to offer some skepticism about the drug itself and try to drag more information out of this man.
“Well, that first shipment we got for one thing,” I said. “One of our guys tried it on his girl back home—she’d been giving him some trouble for a while, you see, and he just wanted one night of peace—and she dropped dead after he gave it to her. Mind you, he doesn’t really care, but some of our customers might.”
I made a point to be as flagrant and dismissive as I related this story as I could. Clifton Beck wouldn’t feel a thing for this poor girl. But my stomach turned on its side as I told it. A version of it was no doubt already true back in New Orleans.
“I’m sorry to hear about this,” Solomon said, and I detected a hint of panic in his voice. “This isn’t what we hoped. We know that there are… risks… associated with this product. We were told that Abel made that clear to you. This being said, we did give you the best batch we have. And this next one will be even better.”
“Abel… well, I think we should assume that Abel was pretty much full of it, no matter what he said,” Holm growled, clenching his fists again where Solomon would be sure to see.
No matter his bluster and fancy talk, it was becoming clear that this guy was afraid of us, and he was starting to believe our story. I remembered the whole mess with the cartel a while back when they’d captured Alejandra’s brother, Miguel. They were floundering, and they needed these American gangbangers to help them get back on their feet if they were ever to be relevant again outside of the island of Hispaniola.
“I… I’m sorry,” Solomon said, his voice trembling sl
ightly, only further confirming this theory of mine. “I truly am. We’ll do what we can to make it up to you. I assure you, this drug in its final form will be revolutionary in your country, just as it has been in ours.”
“Final form?” I repeated. “What does that mean?”
“And why do you have it here when you sent us the shit that made that girl’s skin turn inside out?” Holm asked angrily.
“No, no, no,” Solomon said hurriedly. “You misunderstand. It’s closest to its final form in the batches we’ve given you. The drug in its more primitive form spread here in Haiti and is spreading now in a slightly more advanced form across the border in the Dominican Republic. But to you, we give the best we have. We don’t care as much about these… unfortunate incidents here. Your government is much more responsive to this kind of thing. It would hurt you more for something like this to get out.”
“So you understand our concern,” I said with a small smile that failed to reach my eyes. “Especially considering these agents that have shown up here from our country.”
“And I assure you, the situation is being handled,” Solomon said again.
“How so?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
“We’ve engaged with the men several times already,” Solomon said. “I’m told that one was shot and incapacitated.”
“You’ve seen this for yourself?” I asked.
“No, I’ve been busy running our operations here,” the man explained. “But I have this on good authority. My men have been reporting back to me regularly on the situation.”
He must have meant the graze to my shoulder. His men were exaggerating things to make themselves look better while their leader stayed holed up in this ship cabin hiding from the real action. Typical.
“So, you’re in charge around here?” Holm asked, raising his eyebrows at the small man. “Color me skeptical.”