Smugglers 4 - South Beach Heat (3 page)

“The diver was here,” Mark called out, “and patched the hole so I’m getting the water out and setting up the fans. I’ll move them in two or three days. That should get it dry.”

“Is that the only leak?” she asked.

“I think so,” he replied, giving her a quizzical look.

Nikki continued her walk down the dock to see if everything was okay, and to collect rent if anyone offered. She couldn’t stop smiling and thinking how wonderful it was to love and be loved again.

CHAPTER 4

The alarm went off at midnight; Friday had arrived. Glenn got up, took a shower, and went down the dock to untie the boat. He started the center engine only because it was the quietest. He went out to the canal before he started the two outside engines. Once this was accomplished, he placed the two signs that said “Top Dog.” For just five or ten minutes he was alone on his boat in the dark.

He arrived at his partner Jim’s dock to pick him up. Jim boarded the boat and put up the fishing poles, which they used for cover. Then he positioned himself next to Glenn, who was navigating down the cut and out to sea. Glenn punched in the GPS destination reading, headed out at about one-third throttle on the two outside Mercs and turned off the center engine. Jim got the guns, checked the weapons and clips, and then stood by Glenn as they slipped out to sea under the cloak of total darkness. For obvious reasons, they only did trips when there was no moonlight.

They got to the mother ship in an hour or so and had to wait about fifteen minutes while the crew loaded the boats lined up in front of them. Glenn didn’t recognize the four men who stood guard on the mother ship, but he pulled into his spot and gave them the cash. They started to load his boat with cocaine kilos, which weighed forty-eight pounds per bale. They were just finishing up the load when they saw blue and red lights coming from the northeast. They cut loose, sped off to the south, and out to sea.

Jim was having trouble walking while the boat was going one hundred and twenty miles per hour. They could hear a helicopter hovering over the mother ship which was under way out to sea. The Coast Guard ship was also at the mother ship. Glenn kept going with the lights off, maintaining the speed of one hundred and twenty mph. Jim had the fully automatic Bushmaster in his grip. He knew if he got caught it meant twenty to thirty years.

Glenn turned southwest toward the peninsula and had to slow down to sixty some mph because he was going with the wind, and the seas were very rough.

“Should I deep six the yeyo?” Jim asked.

“No, not yet.” Glenn replied.

They could now see the helicopter looking for the runners. Jim took a bead on the chopper with the Bushmaster, but the chopper had a door gunner with a thirty-caliber Gatling gun. Jim didn’t have a chance.

As he shut off the engines, Glenn said, “Get the blankets and bucket and throw sea water on top of the Mercs.”

Jim went below deck and got three blankets to cover the three engines and put sea water on them. The helicopter was set up with infrared to find the heat signature from the engines of the go-fast boats.

“Get the heat suit and then go below out of the infrared site,” Glenn barked. He put his heat suit as well as the wet stocking hat on and kept putting sea water over the engine blankets to keep them cool. He never looked in the direction of the helicopter. His face would show up like a ’58 Buick hub cap, red and round.

The helicopter was heading in the opposite direction, so he started the middle engine, slowly going in toward the coast. He went on for about an hour then started the two outside engines and went up to about forty-five mph.

“Good, I can finally see the lights of the coast. Jim! Get up here and put up the fishing poles while I turn on the running lights.”

As soon as they were done, they heard sirens and saw two sets of lights come on to the northwest about three miles away. They put all three Mercs to the wall and made a run for the canal. The spot lights just barely reached their, and they were losing them fast. Then a third light shone from a much faster boat. It wasn’t gaining, but wasn’t losing them either.

“Should I shoot him?” Jim yelled.

“No, he’s too far. I’m turning our running lights off again.” Glenn said.

Based on his memory and local knowledge, Glenn navigated between the island and the canals and under the mangroves at one hundred mph. He had grown up here and knew these waters well. If his luck held, he could get them back to safety.

The water was too shallow to dump the coke now. The DEA boat drew more water than his, so they had to slow down because the waters here were more shallow. Not only did Glenn’s boat draw less water, but the three Mercs were all short shaft motors. You had a little less control at slow speed, but you took a foot less water. Glenn backed into a canal, put the engines in neutral but didn’t shut them off.

“When the chase DEA boat goes by, shoot the engines and take out the machine gunner if you need to. I’m taking the 12-gauge and going to the wheel to do the same. As soon as we shoot, I’m going to hit it and go to open water,” Glenn exclaimed.

They could now hear and see the DEA coming down the canal at about thirty mph.

“Perfect,” Glenn said. “Jim, don’t fire ‘til I do.”

The DEA boat went by with the crew looking ahead of them at the canal. When they got past, Glenn fired all five rounds at the engine, and Jim fired two full clips at the gunner and mates. Glenn gunned the boat and headed out to open water. Jim kept shooting to disable the motors and to keep the gunner down. They left the area, and no one followed.

About three miles from the canal, there was a two-inch PVC pipe sticking out of the water about six feet or so with a beer can on top. They went west exactly at that PVC and went one and one half miles until they saw another two inch PVC pipe sticking out of the water with a toilet seat on top. They headed south three miles and then turned the lights back on, hung the magnetic signs back on the sides, and put the fishing poles back out. They pulled into Jim’s slip without incident, unloaded the yeyo, and got paid. It was loose and messed up, but not short of kilos.

Glenn let Jim off, split the money, and went home. By the time he pulled in, tied up, and put everything away, the eastern sky started turning light. He was home!

Glenn went upstairs to his apartment, where he made himself a drink and went out to the balcony which faced the dock. He sipped his drink and thought of all that had happened that night.

:God I was lucky,” he whispered to himself. “This is it. No more deals. That’s it.”

The sun was still a sliver of light on the horizon when he heard a door close ever so quietly on the dock. He looked over the edge of the balcony and saw Nikki’s Bill coming out of Mercedes’ apartment after kissing her in the doorway. Glenn watched Bill walk very quietly back to Cynthia’s boat.

“Why, that asshole!” Glenn thought to himself. “He must have waited for Cynthia to get drunk and pass out or something. I wonder how long he has been seeing Mercedes. I wonder if he was seeing her while he was living with Nikki? What an asshole!” No wonder the marina is in bad shape financially, what with the coke, whores, and Bill not working. Glenn was surprised it lasted as long as it had.

Glenn’s thoughts returned to the night’s events and the beer can on the top of the PVC pipe. Only the locals knew what that meant. He remembered when it was a white glove with the middle finger extended in the air, a sign meant for the DEA. The edge of the canal was about six inches deep, and you could run aground, but right up the middle it is two and a half feet deep. Again, only locals knew this. The kids used to call the DEA the “sleeping policemen,” because once you hit that marker at one hundred mph and turned, no matter how fast they were or what kind of boat they had, the DEA ended up aground, trying to short cut you like a speed bump in a street, hence the “sleeping policemen.”

The DEA actually hired captains who had grown up in the area to run the go-fast boats to catch the smugglers who were the brothers and cousins of the men making the trips. Within a two month period all the DEA go-fast boats had the bottoms torn out of them by the captains, and all the boats sat in the yard until they could be hauled to Miami to be fixed. They were so stupid! If you didn’t grow up here and have a lot of relatives who lived here, you had no business stopping even to ask directions. The smuggling business had started back in the gangster days with Grandpa and Grandma in the rum business. Entire families had grown up in the smuggling trade. None of them ever talked to strangers, because they never knew who might be with the law, and the end result could be a jail sentence or even worse, death.

Glenn sat on the balcony and thought more about the day, but was so high from the excitement that he knew there was no point in trying to sleep. So he turned on the TV, and there they were. Hundreds of cops and reporters swarmed around the DEA go-fast boat, which was half out of the water and half sunk. They were talking about how many holes had been shot into the boat, over one hundred, and both engines were full of holes. He heard them say something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. The DEA pilot was dead, and the gunner was in the hospital with two holes in him. Maybe he wouldn’t make it.

‘Oh, shit!’ he thought and called Jim. “Jim, turn on the TV! Put on the local channel, now!”

“It’s already on,” Jim said.

“I’ll see you within the hour,” Glenn replied.

Glenn made plans, talking to himself as he outlined his next steps. “First I’ve got to dump the bushmaster and all the clips and ammo, make sure the boat is cleaned through and through; the engines blankets, suits, and hats must go, too. They’ll be looking for a go-fast everywhere, so I’ll take the jeep.”

It was 7:30 in the morning, so he went to his boat to break down the bushmaster. The boat had a bolster on each side in the v-berth that hid the guns. He took down the bushmaster, clips, blankets, shirts and hats, put them all in a dive bag, and stowed it in the back of the Jeep. Then he took off for Jim’s place.

When Glenn arrived, Jim was freaking out and packing to leave.

“Are you crazy? They’ll be looking for anything unusual like guys leaving all of a sudden. Quit acting like a run over dog and calm down. You have no go-fast boat. Take your fishing boat out now to the Ditch and dump all of your stuff.” Glenn said, reminding Jim that the Ditch was over 6,000 feet deep. “Okay, okay! Calm down! Jim, we’ll get through this. No more yeyo or drinking ‘til this blows over. Remember, everything you had during a trip must be deep sixed now, so look around and get it all.”

They took Jim’s fishing boat so they looked like they were fishing. When they got to the deep water, they deep-sixed the bag full of incriminating evidence and watched it disappear into the blue. They stayed out a couple of hours just in case they were on the radar.

This also gave them time to get their stories straight with each other in case they got picked up.

Finally, they returned to Jim’s place, and Glenn climbed into his Jeep.

“Jim, don’t run,” he reiterated, “and don’t drink and don’t talk to any cops. If you get picked up, start with the first word and say ‘I want my attorney now!’ You know who I mean, and he will call me. Don’t say my name anytime, anywhere. Remember, they can’t record your conversations with your attorney and use them in court, but they can’t be trusted to not listen in for leads. So don’t talk, just whisper to the attorney until you get out. See you. Be cool.” Glenn put the Jeep into gear and drove home.

Arriving at the dock he saw Nikki talking to the “Major” half way down the dock. He exhaled, tried to calm down, and act normal. He walked over to Nikki, kissed her hello and said, “Everyone and anyone can know now.”

“Okay,” she said, and they kissed again.

He went to his boat, vacuumed the whole thing, and put the signs back on the sides. Then it was on to his apartment to call the sign painter to have the signs put on the sides permanently. The painter had been in the Keys for years, and was known by all as the “Nude Sign Painter.” But since the advent of decals, her work load had slowed way down. Even with working nude, her phone didn’t ring like it used to. Maybe times had changed, or maybe she was just getting older.

When Glenn got to his apartment he found a decal place in the yellow pages and wrote down their address. He decided he couldn’t use the Nude Painter. It would draw too much attention to the boat. He went to town, picked up the decals in five minutes and returned to the boat, putting them on in twenty.

He then went to Nikki’s office. She was on the ship-to-shore radio, talking to a fifty-footer that was heading in with an arrival time in two hours or so. Nikki went down the dock to tell Mark, check the slip, and take the electric readings.

When Nikki returned, she and Glenn kissed a lot. She told him about her meeting and what happened on the dock. Soon they heard the fifty-footer on the radio and the sound of his horn.

Nikki gave them the slip number, and the Pipefitter came into the cut. She and Glenn laughed because they were all drunk, and all four on board were nude and made no move to cover up, from Captain Patrick on down.

Captain Patrick backed the boat in, took a big drink and then got off to tie up the Pipefitter. Everyone was on board was laughing and having a great time, including those on the dock and on the other boats.

After tying up and plugging in, Nikki  and Glenn joined them at the table in the back of the boat, which had a big deck and an aft cabin.

Nikki had to explain the law to the newcomers. “Captain, thank you for coming, but the law here in Florida is, once you tied up you must have clothes on, but only if someone calls the cops to complain. Now, no one here has ever done so, and seeing people undressed is a daily deal, but on the other hand, this is not the French Riviera.”