Killing The Blood Cleaner (7 page)

ELEVEN

It was seven in the morning the next day when Cindy drove her red truck up to the gate at a remote compound which was at the end of a two mile dirt road into the marshes toward the Doboy Sound. The compound was fenced with nine foot chain-link topped by razor wire. A large metal sign announced that she had arrived at the Ossabaw County Sheriff’s Jail Annex and Emergency Preparation Center. The road continued to the right of the compound and the fence on that side was punctuated by a large white metal box with hinged doors which opened with a key lock on both sides of the fence. On the box was a vivid orange warning that it contained hazardous medical waste.

As Cindy pulled into a parking spot directly in front of the gate, a security camera mounted atop the fence swiveled and focused on her vehicle. She waved her hand out the window and the click of the electric lock on the front gate could be heard. Inside the fence was a white, wood frame building with no windows and a thick black metal door which contained a small viewing glass. The building was freshly painted and the grass of its small lawn was meticulously mowed and adorned by rows of flowers. At the side of the building were two huge black metal communications discs and an exotic stainless steel antenna structure from which numerous silver metal discs jutted out, pointed to the sky. The antenna towered sixty feet above the rear of the building. On the left side of the building was a long wooden dock which led out to the Arkola River and the Atlantic Ocean beyond. It was low tide, and a powerful Marine Interceptor boat topped by a large blue light and marked as, “POLICE—SHERIFF OF OSSABAW COUNTY,” floated in the brackish water, loosely tethered to the dock. To the right of Cindy’s parked vehicle was the Sheriff’s personal cruiser, shiny and fresh from daily inmate washings. Several spaces over to her left was the tan, unmarked patrol car which belonged to Major Ross Knowles, who was the Sheriff’s second in command and right-hand man.

She pushed open the gate to the fence and let it click back into its original locked position behind her. She walked toward the door to the building and noticed a large pelican had roosted on the stern of the police boat. She tapped her code on the control pad at the door and entered the building.

“Cindy, you’re nearly one minute late for the Emergency Preparation Meeting of Ossabaw County,” said a tall, heavy set, man with abundant, well styled, gray hair. He wore a crisp police uniform, complete with the shiny accessory of a stainless steel .357 magnum revolver, equipped with custom carved walnut grips of the type used in competition shooting.

“I am sorry, Sheriff. I hope we haven’t had an emergency today,” she replied. “At least you had Major Knowles to pick up the slack,” she continued, looking over at the tall black man who was also dressed in a police uniform, but packing only the standard issue .45 automatic pistol. Knowles shook his head and removed his sunglasses which indicated that he also had just recently arrived.

At that moment, there was a muted clang of metal and curses in Spanish which were coming from the metal door to the lockup area. “It sounds like our guest from last night is ready for his breakfast,” Major Knowles observed. “But he will have to wait for our business to be finished,” he continued.

“How did last night go? Were there any problems?” Cindy asked the men, a little hesitantly.

“No, no problems at all. Just business as usual. Captain Billy got his boat escorted in here right on time last night. Our only problem is that idiot Mexican in the lockup,” the Sheriff replied. “Why don’t we go back in the Homeland Security room and take a look?” he continued. The Sheriff then turned to a large windowless metal door and tapped his code into a key pad as he peered into a small retinal scanner mounted to the side of the door. When the click of the locking mechanism was heard, he held the door open and the three of them entered the room. Above the door was a large sign emblazoned with the shield of the United States which warned, “Ossabaw County Emergency Response Control Room-Authorized Personnel Only-Criminal Penalties for Unauthorized Entry—US Department of Homeland Security.”

The large room was windowless with cinder block walls painted a light yellow. It was brightly lit and contained four computers, each with two huge flat screen monitors mounted on the yellow walls. There was also a Radar Unit with a large screen that glowed a bright green, even in the well lit room. Four of the computer screens were divided into quarters with each quarter showing a real-time video of some location in the Coastal area via satellite. It was apparent from the captions displayed on the monitors that the videos shown were being taken in daylight but that night vision views are also available. Cindy glanced at the monitors and noticed that they were giving a clear picture of traffic on the Interstate, the town square of Lanier, (the County seat of Ossabaw County), along with a front and rear view of the State Bank of Lanier, and a slightly blurry picture of the State Patrol and GBI headquarters located just off the Interstate. The radar screen tracked the movement of a light plane which had just left the Glynn County Airport and which was now entering the airspace of Ossabaw County. The radar screen also showed a cargo ship on its way to Savannah and two shrimp boats at the mouth of the Medway River on their way into the Atlantic.

The Sheriff looked around expansively at the impressive display of sophisticated surveillance equipment. “It makes me proud to be an American that our Federal Government has been so generous and helpful with equipment and expertise so that even a little rural community like Ossabaw County has the means to fight terrorism and the war on drugs,” he said as he clicked on one of the computer keyboards to show a real-time image of the County from space which showed all vehicles moving along the roads and all boats in the rivers or moving along the coast.

“Yeah, but those sorry asses at the State Patrol, the Georgia Attorney General’s office and the GBI did everything they could to stop us from getting all this,” Major Knowles stated.

“Well, there were those unfounded rumors that our office was somehow involved in the drug trade. Fortunately, our Congressman and local State legislator were able to override the petty concerns of the State bureaucrats,” the Sheriff replied with a smile. He zoomed the monitor in with a few clicks on the keyboard to a particular residence where a green car was pulling into the driveway. “Looks like our School Nurse, Judy, is having another early morning pastoral counseling visit with the good Reverend James while his wife is in Atlanta,” he said with a laugh.

“God’s work never takes a vacation,” Cindy said, always amazed at the details of the information now available to them, and thinking back to some of the Reverend’s fire and brimstone sermons she had heard on the subject of adultery.

“They say knowledge is power, but I hope no one in this room would abuse the information with which we have been entrusted. It is way too valuable for gossip. And all blackmail must be done with the utmost Southern graciousness and only on approval by me,” the Sheriff continued.

“Amen, Boss.” Major Knowles said, still looking at the monitor with a smile. “Shall I brief Cindy on last night’s take?” he continued. The Sheriff nodded his assent and Major Knowles tapped on one of the other computers and the monitor displayed a history of the radar traffic from the previous night. “The freighter, Cabeza Rioja, previously left Belize a few days ago and then proceeded up the coast to five miles off Cumberland Island. It had a cargo of lumber and rope. It was also suspected of carrying other agricultural commodities of somewhat higher value,” the Major said, pointing on the screen with a laser pointer.

“Wasn’t it supposed to be boarded by the Coast Guard off Miami?” Cindy asked.

“Yes, and as you can see from the tracking reports, they changed that to board when it was off Savannah,” Major. Knowles continued. “So it was important to get some of the more valuable cargo off the boat prior to it being boarded off Savannah. The Captain of the freighter radioed that he had a medical emergency with a crewman who needed to be evacuated immediately. It just so happened that Captain Billy’s shrimp boat was nearby for this humanitarian action. Billy made a mid-ocean pick up of the sailor who is now our guest in the lockup. Of course, along with the ill sailor was a clever and compact, submersible torpedo filled with 100 pounds of pure cocaine, neatly packaged into 10 pound waterproof bags which was being towed underwater by the freighter. For some reason, this rendezvous in mid ocean seemed highly suspicious to the authorities in Miami and Savannah who had been tracking this freighter. We offered to intercept Captain Billy’s shrimp boat as we just happened to have our Marine Interceptor anchored off Cumberland Island. The Coast Guard ordered us to intercept the shrimp boat and bring it to our dock where they could board it and search it. Of course, we were glad to help out in the defense of our country,” Major Knowles continued, tracking the images of the events with his pointer on the screen. “An ambulance was dispatched to our dock along with Commander Dalton, the head of the local Coast Guard station. The medics checked out the sailor and loaded him into the ambulance. He was clearly ill, suffering from heart palpitations and probable alcohol overdose. Once the sailor was secured in the ambulance, Commander Dalton and his men thoroughly searched Captain Billy’s shrimp boat. They found lots of fresh shrimp and crabs; several, perfectly legal, hunting rifles, and about ten boxes of cartridges, along with a couple of shotguns. Commander Dalton declared the shrimp boat free of contraband and a grateful Captain Billy presented him and each of his men with a five pound bag of shrimp. While the Coast Guard was searching the shrimp boat, our men reeled in the little torpedo which was attached to our Marine Interceptor and put it in the ambulance. The ambulance sped off to the Glynn County Hospital with Mr. Jorge Cantos, the sick sailor, and the load of cocaine, discreetly covered with a tarp. Mr. Cantos was dropped off at the hospital in the custody of an Ossabaw Deputy for examination. The ambulance then made a quick stop at the Glynn County Airport and exchanged the torpedo and its 100 pounds of cocaine for $2,500,000 in cash. The cocaine then flew off in a little silver jet with a false set of FAA numbers to a small airport near Chicago. As we have done business with these gentlemen many times, I’m not expecting any problems with the count,” he continued.

“Why is the sailor in our jail?” Cindy asked.

Noticing some nervousness on Cindy’s part, and anticipating her difficulty, the Sheriff took over the briefing. “A very good point, Cindy. Of course, it did not take long at the hospital for him to be stabilized. However, there may be good reasons that the Captain of the Cabeza Rioja decided to throw this particular sailor overboard. He started shooting off his mouth complaining about his small share in the take and that he did not want to return to the ship in Savannah. Fortunately he did this when only our Deputy was present so he was immediately taken into custody pending an inquiry into his immigration status. Amazingly, he produced an American passport which unfortunately was noted in his hospital paperwork and commented upon by several of the hospital staff. So we’re going to have to let him go now that we have checked his passport and as a citizen he is free to remain in the U.S. But since he won’t get back on that ship and he likes to run his mouth, he is a problem,” the Sheriff said calmly, leaning back in his chair and looking patiently at the ceiling.

“You’re not going to kill him?” Cindy asked fearfully.

“Of course not, Cindy. Despite what the newspapers and the GBI may say, we are a righteous, community oriented, drug smuggling operation. We have to engage in honest graft to protect our people and we do defend ourselves. We have not been in business for over fifteen years by acting like Al Capone and blasting anyone that gives us a problem. This is the South and we need to be nuanced and gracious in dealing with our adversaries. Sometimes they end up being our friends. Most of the time we just need for folks to look the other way, or to have a cloudy memory. Sometimes we need them to do very trivial things without asking questions. Like making a copy of a file somewhere, or retrieving a glass in a restaurant with someone’s fingerprints all over it, or placing some small object in a person’s house or car which allows us to hear what they really think about us. A lot of these good folks would be horrified if we offered them money. It would make it seem like what they were doing was really wrong. Take Commander Dalton for instance. If I had initially offered him $100,000 for his help with our work he would probably have called the FBI. On the other hand, he well remembers that awful night when his jackass son gave a fatal dose of Ecstasy to that that little 15-year-old runaway before they had sex. It was the middle of the night and the Commander was looking at a dead, underage girl full of drugs and his son’s DNA. Fortunately as this happened in Ossabaw County, Major Knowles was able to take charge of the investigation and he got to use the advanced investigation techniques that the Federal Government had taught him at FBI school in Quantico. Somehow, the DNA sample taken at the morgue, instead of implicating his son, turned out to be the DNA of our local problem child, Billy Purser. Billy had been seen talking to the girl earlier and a half empty glass of rum with his fingerprints all over it was found at the scene of her death. Billy, as usual, was so intoxicated on alcohol and drugs he had no idea where he had been that night. Billy pled guilty to the very reasonable charge of negligent homicide and the girl’s body was cremated. I suggested to the Commander that a lengthy, out-of-state drug rehabilitation might help his son get his life back on track. I hear the boy is now in college out West majoring in political science and doing well. Of course, without us rudely mentioning it at all, I am sure the Commander knows that we have enough evidence stashed away to resurrect this problem at any time. And that is why Commander Dalton always takes personal charge of these interceptions and has no problem with receiving his $100,000 now,” the Sheriff said.