by Rick Chesler
Cars began slowly streaming from around the wreck behind Heather, and she joined them, relieved to see the pickup ease back into the flow as well, immediately merging over into the fast lane. Deciding that they knew they were being followed, Heather let them go.
THIRTY-FOUR
The next day, Kane went over his finances. He counted up the cash he’d hidden in a toolbox. At first, he’d kept the toolbox out in the open in his room, figuring that to be disguise enough, but as he accumulated more and more cash, he started keeping it beneath floorboards he’d cut out of his room. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his roommates—Cody and the guys were as close to real friends as he’d ever have while on the lam—but with three roommates and all their friends coming and going, Kane could not afford to be lax about security.
A smile lit on is face at the end of his count. He had nearly enough to make his exit from the states. He was under no illusion he’d be able to stay in Florida indefinitely. Eventually, the long arm of the law would catch up to him. And with his animal cage matches, his profile was only getting higher; it was only a matter of time. Already someone was following them around on the road. He had no plate on that truck, which was also a bust waiting to happen.
Kane put the cash back in the toolbox and put the box back under the floorboard. He had just stepped on the board to push it back into place when there came a knock at his door. Kane stepped away from the spot and sat on his bed.
“Yeah, come in.”
Cody opened the door and stood in the doorway. “Hey, just talked José. Says he’s going back out fishing tomorrow, way offshore for big stuff. Wants to know if he hooks up with more big sharks if we want them.”
Kane grinned. “Guess he likes our little collector’s fee, huh?”
Cody agreed. “Sharks aren’t usually worth too much. Anyway, the last two matches made more than ever. You want to do another shark-fest, or you think they’re played out and we should go back to gators or something else?”
Kane shrugged. “Something else, like what?”
“I don’t know. Giant snakes?”
Kane laughed. “A big Burmese python—the invasive ones—would be cool. But they’re pretty slow moving. Wouldn’t be that hard to hang around in the tank for a while with one. Let’s do another shark, but tell him we want one big one this time, not a whole bunch of smaller ones like last time.”
“Got it. I’ll let José know.” Cody held up his cell before turning and leaving the doorway back into the house.
Kane scratched the stubble on his chin as he thought about what José might be able to pull from the ocean depths.
One big shark, José. One last big one ought to do it.
THIRTY-FIVE
Heather stopped in at the Fish and Wildlife station in Flamingo before heading out for the day in her patrol truck. She was going to stop in at dispatch to see if they had any database search results from the names she had submitted. But as soon as she walked into the office, she saw Director Stevens on his way out.
“My office, Winters. Now.”
“I wanted to get the results of—”
“I have them, Winters. Let’s go.”
Heather followed him out the door, turning to close it behind her and catching the raised eyebrow glance from one of the dispatchers behind the desk. Something was up.
“How’d it go last night?” Her boss wasted no time, not even waiting to reach his office before beginning the conversation.
“Got some intel. Names of people I believe to be the ringleaders. I called them in last night to see if we get a match.”
“Right. And we did. Come on in.” They reached the director’s office and stepped inside. “Get the door, please,” Stevens said as he took a seat behind his desk. Heather did so; the fact that this was her second visit here in as many weeks not lost on her.
“We came up with a hit.” Stevens tapped on some computer keys while squinting at his monitor. “For a couple of these guys, anyway. Cody Wilhelm.” He looked up at her to make sure she recognized the name she had submitted. After she nodded, he went on with a shrug.
“Now this guy, sure, he’s got some stuff. But it’s all pretty minor. No felonies, and nothing involving wildlife. He’s never even had a fishing or hunting license in the state of Florida.”
“So he’s probably not dangerous.”
“Probably not.” He looked up at her. “But don’t let that be an excuse to let your guard down.” Then he looked back to the screen before continuing. “This other individual, Boyd Beck: Now this guy, he’s got a fishing license, and some violations for undersized catches and out of season catches, but still… He’s got a DWI…” He shook his head again. “That’s the worst of it. These aren’t the types of profiles we get, say, when we bust up a dog fighting ring.”
Heather nodded in agreement. “Most of the people in attendance seemed about like that. Just there for a thrill, to witness something they don’t usually get to see.”
“Most of them probably are like that,” Stevens acknowledged, “but this other name you gave us…” Again, he consulted his screen. “Now this one’s different, because we didn’t get anything back for it.” He looked up from the screen to make eye contact with her.
“Nothing at all?” A name returning no information was highly unusual indeed.
“Let me give you the name again: Lyle Johnson.” He spelled it letter by letter for clarification, after which Heather nodded.
“That’s what I’d think of as far as how to spell it. I never saw it written down anywhere, I just heard it spoken, so if he’s using some kind of alternate spelling, or a nickname…”
Stevens shook his head. “Nothing comes back for that name. Nothing at all. It’s clean.”
Heather’s features took on a quizzical expression. “What do you mean nothing, like nothing major?”
Stevens’ eyes widened. “I mean nothing major, nothing minor, nothing period.”
Heather frowned. That was unusual. “That’s weird.”
Her boss nodded. “Given the local crowd he hangs out with, how they have some things but he has absolutely nothing? It’s strange.” He threw his hands up before continuing. “Now, hey…it is possible he’s never had the slightest run-in, who knows. I just don’t think it’s likely.”
“So you think he’s using a fake name?” Heather laid it out there.
“You tell me. How’d you get the name?”
“It’s the name his friends call him by, and the one he introduced himself to me with.”
Stevens took a deep breath. “I want you to stay on the case, keep looking into it. But be careful, Heather. I think we both know now that this guy might not be who he says he is.”
Heather flashed on what she knew about Lyle Johnson. “I searched for the Gator Boyz business—the one I believe he took the logo of off his pickup truck—and there’s no formal business license on file with either Homestead, Miami, or Florida City, all of which are areas where his website says he does business.”
Stevens raised a finger. “Great point. That’s something with real teeth that we can nail this guy for, even if the animal ring charges don’t stick. You know what they busted Al Capone for?”
Heather shrugged. “Extortion? Manslaughter?”
Stevens shook his head. “No; of course he was doing those things, but what they were actually able to bring him in on was tax evasion. Point is, it was a relatively minor charge for him, but one that was enforceable with real teeth.”
“So you’re saying we should have Johnson investigated on the business end of things instead of catching him in the act with fighting animals?”
Stevens shrugged. “I’m saying it’s something we can use to keep him in custody if the animal charges don’t stick for whatever reason. Hopefully, they will. So get back out there and keep after this guy. But be smart about it. He seems to think he’s above the law, or at least able to operate outside of it. Stay sharp, Ranger Winters. Don’t let your guard down.”
>
Heather held eye contact with him for a moment longer, then nodded, and rose from the chair.
THIRTY-SIX
Kane got the call from Boyd late that afternoon, while he was drinking a beer on the porch by himself, contemplating what he thought of as his ultimate escape—his escape from the country to a life where he could actually live in peace. He could tell right away from the excitement in Boyd’s voice that something good—meaning potentially lucrative for the matches—was happening. From the noise coming from his end of the phone, he was obviously driving, but Kane could hear bits and pieces of Boyd’s rapid-fire update: José…shark…scored…huge…white…right now…
“Whoa, slow down, Boyd, you’re breaking up. All I really heard was José and shark.”
Boyd calmed down enough to go back over it, and eventually Kane was able to get out of him that José had line caught a great white shark that was ten feet in length. He was out of cellphone range when he hooked it, but he figured they’d want it so he tied it to the side of his boat and dragged it inshore at a slow speed until he was able to call.
“I told him hell yes, are you kidding!” Boyd shouted into the phone, causing Kane to lift it away from his ear.
“Ten feet? How much does that thing weigh?”
“Yeah, about ten feet is what he says. No idea on the weight. A thousand pounds maybe?”
Kane shook his head to himself. “Where is it now?”
“He’s only a couple of miles out from the harbor. I told him we’d meet him there so we can make the transfer fast. Because as soon as people see this big-ass fish…”
Kane stood up from the couch. “I’ll meet you down there.”
#
Word spread fast around the marina that a great white shark had been not only caught, but brought back into the docks alive. The white shark was a protected species, and as such, would be of great interest to Fish and Wildlife. Kane pulled his pickup to a stop and got out, shaking his head upon seeing a small crowd gathered around José’s boat.
He walked over to Boyd, who was standing there talking to his friend from the screen business.
“What the hell’s going on?” Kane asked him, waving an arm at all the people.
Boyd returned an understanding look, but said, “It’s not easy to keep a great white shark secret. Word has a way of getting around.” Boyd held eye contact with Kane in a way that made him nervous. Word has a way of getting around… Was he trying to tell him something?
He snapped out of his paranoid reverie when a chorus of shouts erupted from the spectators as the massive shark thrashed against the side of the boat it was still lashed to.
Kane leaned in closer to Boyd and lowered his voice. “Are we going to try and get this shark into the octagon?”
Boyd looked back at the fish, his expression doubtful. “Isn’t that the point? I’m sure someone will get in there with it.”
Kane gave him a hard look. “Would you?”
Boyd shrugged, noncommittal.
“I might,” Johnny said. “And Parker probably would. Somebody will.”
“If we bring it, they will come,” Boyd mused.
“Then let’s get it done,” Kane said, staring at the growing gathering of onlookers. Then he turned to Boyd. “Where’s our venue?”
Boyd looked at Johnny for a moment, and the two exchanged a knowing glance. Then he turned back to Kane. “I know just the place.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
Heather sat in her parked truck in a bramble of bushes off a highway across from a boat ramp frequented by fishermen and hunters. She was watching for returning boaters in order to check their catch, but while she waited, her thoughts turned to Lyle and the animal matches. She had to find out where the next “event” was and be there for it. The more documented evidence she had against the ring, the easier it would be to obtain a conviction against the key players.
And let’s face it, she thought, staring at the empty boat ramp, bringing down a major animal exploitation ring would be a big boost for her career. She considered her options for tracking down the when and where of the next match. She could go through the grapevine the way she had the first time—go back to the Mexican restaurant and see what she could overhear… Or she could call Lyle directly—she knew he was the owner of Gator Boyz, and had a website with a contact number that she guessed was most likely his cellphone. But that might put him on edge. He was likely to be suspicious of any callers he didn’t really know unless they were asking for an animal to be removed from their property.
Then she thought back to that random guy who had given her his card, she assumed because he wanted to ask her out on a date. He seemed not to be involved in the planning of the matches yet was one of the core crowd who came to wager and witness the spectacle of it all. Might as well take a chance, she thought, glancing up at the still-empty boat ramp before picking up her phone. She found the card with his cell number scrawled on the back—Danny. She dialed the number. She figured if she was going to call, she might as well do it soon before he forgets about her.
The line picked up on the other end and a gruff-sounding male voice said, “Danny here.”
“Hi Danny, it’s Jenna, from the party last night?” She figured “party” was reasonable enough code for the animal match, and it wouldn’t make him overly nervous if he was one of those tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theory guys who worried about who might be listening in on his cell conversations.
She heard some muffled noise on the other end followed by, “Oh, hey—Jenna, wow.” He laughed.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Oh no, not at all, it’s just… I didn’t think you’d call.”
“Well, I did.” This is awkward, she thought. But then again, she supposed it was good for her cover. Local girl, part of the dating scene. A little nervous, but who wouldn’t be, right? She decided to go on before he became too nervous and gave up on the call. “So Danny, I just wanted to let you know I had a really good time last night at the party. You down to go to another one…with me?”
A pause. Then, “Uh, sure. Yeah!”
“Great. Do you know when the next one is?” She held her breath. Would he think it strange that she had to ask this?
“No, not yet. I’ll hear about it, though, and as soon as I do, I’ll let you know, I promise.”
Heather felt a pang of guilt. The guy sounded more upbeat now, almost happy like he was really looking forward to a date with her. But then the sound of an outboard motor approaching the ramp reminded her that she had a job to do.
“Okay, Danny, cool! Looking forward to your call. Really can’t wait. Have a good one!”
He said bye and disconnected, and then Heather got out of her vehicle to go meet the incoming boat at the ramp.
#
Kane had to hand it to Boyd, he was good at coming up with these venues. He would have thought it would be difficult to find a place to hide a great white shark in a pool for a couple of days on such short notice, but this ought to do, he thought, staring across the dark field at the looming octagon. Apparently, the property used to be an athletic field; looking closely, Kane could still see the faint outline of a baseball diamond where the grass was not as thick.
“Over here!” Boyd’s voice emanated from somewhere out of the darkness off to Kane’s left.
“Maybe we can get some lights out here,” Kane suggested.
“Yeah, was looking for an old outlet to see if it might still be wired, but no such luck. Don’t worry, we’ll bring the portables for the match. For now, take this.” He handed him a large flashlight that was already on. Kane aimed it at the tank and saw dark, shadowy movement through one of the clear panels.
“Whoa.” He stood as if in a trance watching the octagon.
“Check it out!” Boyd encouraged, walking toward the tank. Kane shook himself from the shock of his initial look at the beast and followed. “Where’s your other guys?” Kane asked. “I assume you didn’t snap this up by yoursel
f?”
Boyd laughed. “They left maybe ten minutes ago. I said I’d stay and watch it. We can’t leave this thing unguarded.”
“So when’s the match?”
“I wanted it to be tonight—this thing’s expensive to feed—bought two sides of beef for it from the butcher already, not sure that’ll be enough—and word will get around. I’m not sure exactly how many laws we’re breaking by having this shark, but there’s got to be a few.”
“So tomorrow night?”
Boyd nodded. “Tomorrow night it’s on. Put the word out. I’ll be working my networks until then.”
Kane nodded while he walked up to the side of the octagon and got his first good look at their new attraction. He shook his head in incredulity as he took in the monster-sized fish. “This thing is huge!” His voice lacked enthusiasm though, because of the underlying concern that it was so huge, so ridiculously formidable that there would be no takers when it came to getting someone in the ring. He looked at Boyd.
“You want to make this your first match?”
Boyd laughed and quickly shook his head while watching the white shark move in slow circles around the tank. “I’m the promoter, not a fighter. Somebody will take it on, though, don’t you worry.”
#
Later that night, Heather pulled into her driveway in Flamingo. It had been a long day of paperwork and a court appearance to testify against two fishermen she’d written tickets to for catching grouper out of season. So when her phone rang as she climbed the steps to her front porch, she almost let it go to voicemail. Then she remembered the guy from the tank, and decided to check and see who it was.
Danny! Heather took the call as she keyed into her front door, reminding herself to stay in character. “Hey, Danny! How’s it going? Didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. Miss me that much?” Heather rolled her eyes and told herself she was pouring it on too thick.