Tampa Star (Blackfox Chronicles Book 1) (8 page)

He had a contact at the Florida National Guard, an old friend he had known in the 82nd, now an armorer at Camp Blanding, a National Guard Base near Gainesville, who had access to some weapons that were to be demilitarized and disposed of.

The armorer claimed he could substitute some odd parts as proof of their destruction and sell Char the weapon. He also offered  an untraceable Browning Hi-Power nine millimeter that he had taken off a dead VC back in Nam and a sawed off Mossberg 12 gauge pump shotgun. 

Char told him he would be interested in the Browning, but a sawed off shotgun had the potential to turn a robbery into bloody rampage and he had no interest in that. If it went that way, Char would deal with it. He had killed before and wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger.  He just wasn’t a freak who got off on it like some that he had seen in Nam. He had originally thought that it would be simpler just to rob the boat as it stood tied up at the dock, but Tommy discounted that option for several reasons.

“One, the gold is only on the boat for the duration of a cruise. It is delivered and picked-up by an armored truck for each voyage.

“Interested in a shoot-out with some trigger happy guards? That would lead to a quick encounter with the police, both state and locals. Based on my past experience, running from the police, I think it would be better if we rob them at sea
, said Tommy

“Agreed.
There will be no guards. We just scare the shit out of all these highfalutin dudes in their monkey suits, liberate the gold, and sail away to one of hundreds of harbors on the gulf coast. Once that is done, we get out of Dodge and sit contently on the beach in Rio or Acapulco counting our doubloons and drinking a fancy rum drink,” said Char.    

Char had thought about ways to stop a ship at sea for a moment and figured that it would be easiest to stop her by seizing the bridge, rather than try some boarding operation while
underway—that was sure to be a complicated maneuver that he was not sure they could pull off; a ship underway moving at twenty knots sitting almost thirty

feet
out of the water would be a bastard to board—especially in high seas. 

Char brought up options for taking the ship down, how to board it or stop it if necessary
—boarding a ship underway was a very complex operation, something for guys in the rangers or Special Forces, but his days on the A-list were over.  He was an ex-Green Beret but the rest of the team was of unknown quality.  There had to be another way.

Tommy smiled, walked to the refrigerator, returned with two long neck bottles of Busch beer and handed one to
Char.

“The best part, ole son, is that Simon Block has ordered the Captain to stop the ship in the gulf so that his guests can enjoy dinner on calm seas.” Char smiled like he had just won the lottery, took his beer bottle, tapped the base against the neck of Tommy’s bottle and upended it, draining it dry in one long gulp.  They spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon working out the details.

Tampa was good to Sally Boots. In January 1973, George Foreman beat Joe Frazier by a knockout in two rounds to lift the world's Heavyweight championship and Sally wins big.  A month later, Super Bowl VII pits the Dolphins against the Redskins and normally a local bookie would be challenged to make money off the hometown team that just finished their perfect undefeated season as no Floridian wanted to bet against the Dolphins. But, Sally was a sly bookie He lays off all the action he can in the D.C area and managed to clear nearly fifty large.

Sally sat behind a replica of the Resolute
Desk, a large nineteenth-century antique pedestal desk. The original was a gift from Queen Victoria to President Rutherford B. Hayes in 1880 and was constructed from the timbers of the British Arctic Exploration ship of the same name. Sally’s idol, John Fitzgerald Kennedy, used it in the White House. Sally loved the man both because he was a Catholic and because he had fucked Marilyn Monroe, among many others. 

He saw the desk up close when it was on display as part of a traveling exhibition of the Kennedy library dedicated to the deceased President and it so inspired Sally that he immediately had his own replica made from Brazilian mahogany in a Tampa handmade furniture store
—it had cost a small fortune!

Sally felt Kennedy would approve of what was going on now
—Sally was rhythmically moving his hips back and forth as one of his favorites, Sassy Sadie, slobbed his knob from underneath the desk. Sally leaned back in his high backed red leather desk chair, and moaned.  Sassy Sadie finished her work, kissed Sally on the cheek, and departed his office just as Jimmy appeared in the doorway.

“Interrupting anything boss? “Jimmy asked with a sly grin. 

“A minute earlier, you would have been, but come in kid. Sit down.” Sally beckoned him to a leather arm in front of his desk as he zipped his fly.  “How you been, but more importantly, how is that beautiful girlfriend of yours?” 

“Great, Sally, we
’re both great. I got something I want to run down for you.”

“Sure, kid,” replied Sally. Go ahead—hopefully, you got some idea to make me some money.”

Jimmy explained the situation to him, laying out the scheme that would take place in just a few days, with the first sailing of the
Star of Tampa
scheduled for October 31, 1974, Halloween Night. He explained that they need at least two more guns on the job.

“O
kay, kid, so you need me to lend you Ligio and another soldier?  I can do that, I got just the guy in mind.”

Yeah
, thought Jimmy,
it was probably Guy Handley as Sally sometimes used him for the odd job
.
He had been a vice cop who liked to fuck hookers before arresting them
.
Sally set the guy up, got him fired, and then he came crawling to Sally for work. The balls on that guy!  Still, he was big—almost as big as Ligio and could be physically intimidating, with the help of the black leather police sap that he kept in his sock. 

Handley bounced at the club when Ligio wasn’t around.  He tried some shit with Jimmy once, before anyone knew that Jimmy was connected to Sally. Jimmy popped him on the side of the throat—right on the carotid artery and Handley hit the deck like the sack of shit he was. Jimmy thought he had killed him, but Handley came to and immediately started groping for the sap.  Jimmy then kicked him in the jaw and that was the end of the fight.

One of the dancers started screaming as they thought that one of the customers was beating the snot out of the bouncer.  Sally suddenly appeared from his office and laughed at the tough ex-cop sprawled out in front of the dance floor.

When Handley woke up, he introduced him to Jimmy by saying, “
the guy that just kicked the shit out of you is a friend of mine.” That was over a year ago, but the big bastard was still sore about it.  

Sally heard the proposal and smiled, “O
kay, so, what’s my end?”

“I was thinking normal tribute of
ten percent and the two shooters can split another ten percent of whatever we haul in,” replied Jimmy. 

“Let me check into things because it sounds like you’re
gonna need a serious partner.  We’ll talk after that, now hit the road, I wanna make a few calls.”

Jimmy nodded and left the office feeling elated as despite the negatives of involving a dirty, thieving Mafia hoodlum in the operation, Sally brought a lot to the table.

Sally leaned back in his chair and thought about it for a while.
It was a high risk venture, that was for sure, but Jimmy was a smart kid—maybe a little too smart. A million plus would be a record haul and that kind of money could allow Sally to buy his way back in to the crew in Providence, not that he was longing to see his wife again, but he belonged up north, not in this swamp land. And there was also that piece of angel food cake that Jimmy was fucking, Brenda.  Sally salivated at the thought of having her beautiful hard tan ass undulating up and down on his rod as she rode him from this very chair.  JFK would love it
.
If Jimmy weren’t around, Brenda could be his.  He could at least set her up in Providence as his Goomar.  He would talk to Ligio and set something up
—
the money comes back, but Jimmy and the others end up swimming with the fishes.  How appropriate to use that traditional expression given the nautical theme of the job,
thought Sally.

The club was normally closed during the morning hours, but Sally Boots was a hard task master. He brought the diverse group of players together for a sit-down and discussed his expectations for the task at hand. Sally had never been in the army, but it could be argued that some of the jobs he pulled in Providence and Western Connecticut were executed with military precision.  He knew a thing or two about prior planning; the Six P Principle: Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. He also knew that some of the players didn’t necessarily like each other; Jimmy, Tommy and the tall ex-Green Beret who called himself Char, seemed to be pretty tight. His additions to the crew—his idiot nephew, Ligio and the ex-cop, Handley, didn’t even like themselves.

Both Ligio and Guy Handley had mixed it up with Jimmy and in each case, that crazy kid got the better of them.  That’s exactly what Sally liked about the kid—his balls to the wall attitude.  He wouldn’t take shit from anybody—would mix it up when he needed to and seemed to always come out smelling like the proverbial rose. That was also what made Jimmy so dangerous.

It was just after eight a.m. on Sunday, the 15th of October and Sally had just over two weeks to get these guys to act like a team, if only until the job was complete. Given that both Char and Tommy had legitimate jobs and keeping them was integral to their plan, Sally brought them into the club on a day when the bar was normally closed so he could inspire them and give them his guidance. 

He got up on the stage and the lights illuminated his rotund frame—making him appear more commanding. He let fly with the history of some of the most successful crews and the jobs they pulled
—the Brinks job in Boston, 1950. Over two million dollars was taken and the guys would have all gotten away with it had not one of them gotten caught on unrelated charges and decided to sing. Sally stressed the meticulous planning that went on over the course of eighteen months. He was just a stupid gangster hijacking trucks at the time and really admired those guys.

Although he didn’t really care for the Limeys, he had to admire the fact that they just recently pulled off one of the greatest robberies of all time—the Great Train Robbery was what the media called it when the Royal Mail's Glasgow to London train was stopped by tampered signals, allowing a gang to steal £2.3 million in used £1, £5 and £10 less than a year ago in Buckinghamshire, England. Sally wanted his guys to think big as they would be in similar company, if they were successful.

Based on Char’s and Tommy’s prior planning, Sally designated the various roles: Jimmy’s kid brother would drive the boat they would use for the heist and Handley would be his mate. He would be responsible to tie off the boat to whatever they could tie off to when they reached the ship; the boarding stairs would be up, so they would either have to lower it or figure something else out.

The inside guys would be Jimmy, Char and Ligio.  They had to seize the bridge, stop the crew from radioing for help, secure the passengers, and the various help; mostly servers, dealers; a couple of bartenders, the kitchen staff and a small band. 

The passengers for this gala were limited to about fifty people and he estimated that the various help amounted to another seventy-five.
A hundred people to be secured by his crew of five might prove to be a problem
.
Well, were there was money, there was always a way, as far as Sally was concerned.

Several Blackjack dealers were associates of his from up north—legitimate only in the sense that they could shuffle a deck and were willing to do a violent job for a straight cash payment.

Sally gave the assembled group of thieves a speech and told them how he wanted them to work. He verbally designated the ex-soldier, Char as the crew chief or underboss for the operation and told him to come up with a rough plan to brief Sally by four that afternoon.  This initially pissed off Ligio, but Sally took him aside and told him to be patient. The club didn’t open the following day until six, so he figured they could work through any changes that evening.

At the end of the first day, Sally was impressed.  The crew had their roles defined, a rough agenda and a list of supplies they would need completed.  Questions were noted, such as how they could get the heavy firepower on board without generating undue suspicion and how they would board the ship from a boat that sat at least
twenty feet below it.

They worked the rest of the time during evenings in Sally’s office. Every day the crew seemed more seasoned and serious. 

Questions were answered and supplies gathered. The following Saturday they took a field trip to the Tampa pier where the
Star of Tampa
sat tied up—gleaming in new white paint with blue stripping surrounded a big raised gold Star embossed on her funnel.  The
Star of Tampa
was written across the bow in big gold block letters. She took up at least three quarters of the old commercial pier.

The five men wandered towards the boarding landing as a young black man approached wearing a blue jacket with a gold embroidered S sewn on the pocket.

“Are you Mister Finnegan?” asked the Steward.

“Yep, that’s me,” said Tommy with an impish grin.

“I am Franklin, your personal guide from the Star, he said, gesturing toward the ship.  Please follow me.”

The four men looked at Tommy with equally quizzical expressions before following Franklin down the pier to the stairway leading to the ship.

“What?”  Tommy said to the others with a look of mock innocence on his face, “The owner is a personal friend of mine.”

“Yes,” said Franklin, overhearing the exchange.
“He instructed me to take good care of your party.”

“That’s great, Franklin,” replied Tommy, “As I explained to Mister Block, these gentlemen are high rollers from the area who used to frequent Havana and don’t too much like traveling to Nevada. They would love to find a venue closer to home to gamble and would like to be invited for the maiden voyage”

“Well, gentlemen, I am sure you will be impressed with the luxuriousness of the Star Casino and quality of the play that we will offer. I will happily arrange invitation for the five of you,” said Franklin as the group followed him up the gangplank to the ship.

“Just three of us, Franklin, the other two will be busy,” replied Tommy while winking at the others.  

“The Star Casino,” announced Franklin as he opened the double doors to the wide mahogany staircase that descended into what had once been the vehicle stowage berth of the converted ocean going ferry. The room had been painstakingly converted into a casino that would rival any one currently available in Las Vegas or Reno in terms of plushness and luxury of the furniture and accoutrements.  The steel bulkheads had been covered in the same rich wood as the staircase

and
the raised floor was carpeted in deep pile blue carpeting with signature gold stars. 

The floor was divided roughly in half by areas of slot machines and various different types of gaming tables; Black Jack, Poker, Baccarat and Craps. There was a cocktail lounge in the center of the room and the bank sat against one wall.  Dominating the room sat one lone slot machine, at least three times as large as the others located at the top of a series of stepped circular platforms. Making it larger still was a three foot high steel framed glass case that sat on top.
Million Dollar Bandit was written across the front of the machine in gold cursive lettering on frosted glass and a set of red, white and blue lights ran along the perimeter of the machine.

“Gentlemen, allow me to present the star of the casino: the Million Dollar Bandit!” proclaimed Franklin in the mellifluous tone of a carnival barker. The slot machine was a full six feet tall and four feet across. Block had designed it himself and had it custom manufactured by Bally.  An empty steel frame box with thick glass windows sat atop the slot machine.  Char reached over and tapped the glass with a bent finger and listened.

“Tempered glass,” he said.  He had seen similar glass in the V100 armored cars that the South Vietnamese Army used to patrol supply routes. 

“More correctly, Sir, it is ballistic glass,” corrected Franklin, “Specially made to resist being penetrated when struck by bullets. Since the enclosure will be holding over one million dollars in U.S. Double Eagle gold coins, it was thought that proper security measures should be in place. The slot machine is also specifically made with reinforced steel to support the weight of the gold and the box, which together weigh well over two thousand pounds.”

“So, what’s the deal, Franklin, you put a quarter in for a chance to win a million and the box empties the gold out?” Char asked.

“No, Sir that is not feasible, someone could be hurt. The box will just display the gold as a symbol of the richness of the pay-off. The gold inside will be real enough, but the pay-off will be made via check after the win is verified.”

Franklin took them through the dining area—actually part of the casino floor that would be used to host meals until a proper dining room could be built as much of the ship—the cabins, various salons card rooms and shops were still to be constructed while the casino would remain active; hopefully funding the refurbishment. 

Franklin then gave them a quick tour of the unoccupied bridge, which allowed Char to quickly glance at the radio and navigation equipment. He slid back from the group, found the radio room and glanced inside finding a standard commercial grade VHF marine radio.
Char figured they would just remove the mike, rather than destroy the radio. More interesting to Char was the fact that the marine radar scope was missing from the bridge. The housing was there, but the screen was missing. He walked over to the bridge and looked at the hole and turned to Franklin with a puzzled look on his face.

“Oh, that, replied Franklin. We had to order a new radar display from the manufacturer—it should be here before the maiden voyage.”

“Let’s hope so,” said Char, while he was thinking just the opposite.

The tour concluded and the men went back to the club to discuss what they had seen and how it would impact their plan.  The case holding the gold was a glass laminate of several different densities of glass that was epoxied together. Ballistic glass was meant to resist, not prevent, penetration by bullets—there was indeed a ballistic solution thought Char. 

***

Jimmy opened the door to the club and walked inside, momentarily blinded by the relative darkness. The black laminate covered tables that normally sat ringside to the stage had been rearranged into one long table now covered with white table clothes and place settings from the bygone days when the club was an Italian restaurant.

“Please enter and pour yourselves a drink, we have a little celebrating to do,” said Sally from behind the bar. Jimmy didn’t hesitate, vaulting the bar with the polish of a gymnast—he grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and a handful of shot glasses and divvied up the shot glasses while Sally passed out long neck bottles of Budweiser. Servers came from the back and began distributing chaffing dishes on side tables.

“Gentlemen, to the task at hand” toasted Sally. They all drank to the toast and Jimmy quickly refilled the glasses.

“Let’s eat,” said Sally and they descended on the rich Italian specialties—baked sausage and ziti, assorted plates of Prosciutto, Capicola and Carpaccio all sorts of cheeses, olives and vinegar peppers.  The main course was Ossobuco—cross-cut veal shanks braised with vegetables, white wine and broth, garnished with gremolata and served over risotto. 

Sally brought out several special bottles of five year old Chianti that he had bought while on vacation in Sicily. Everyone ate heartily and after dessert, a bottle of Hennessy V.S. Cognac made the rounds. Most of those seated lit after dinner cigarettes while Sally puffed away contently on a Pre-Castro
Cohiba Esplendido. The waiters had cleared the plates and been shown the door—they could return to pick up the service later.   

“Fellas,” said Sally, not feeling the need to stand in order to command attention, “
this will probably be the last chance we have to get together before we do this piece of work. Because of this, I wanted to get together, share a few drinks, a good meal and in a few minutes, some of the best pieces of ass in the greater Tampa Bay area, if not the entire state of Florida. Therefore, when the girls get here, do with them what you want, they have been instructed to make you happy and in Jimmy’s case, to keep their big pie-holes closed—for speaking purposes, anyways.”

The crowd burst out laughing and applauded Sally’s generosity.