Betrayed Devil

by Tom Haase

  Kareem relaxed on his house’s balcony overlooking the bay on the Eastern side of New Providence Island in the Bahamas. The building, located at the corner of Shirley Street and Eastern Road, was a two-story brick building dating from the eighteenth century. He relaxed with a gin and tonic on this warm evening, and he tried to unwind as he waited for the news from the States. He wanted to hear what happened when his men attempted to retrieve his property.

  Most unfortunate that someone intercepted the carrier taking the goods to his contact in Savannah. There was only one person there who was in his employ, and the trial run would have established a secure and repeatable method of transport. Once the goods arrived in the area, he had twelve men ready to move in and set up his operation and distribution points.

  Kareem’s cell rang, and he clenched his fist so tight the fingernails pierced his skin as he listened to the report coming over the phone. A trickle of blood spread over his palm. He licked it off and tried to refocus after getting the word about the loss of two of his men in Savannah and their failure to retake his drugs. The whole operation had gone to hell in a hand basket. The Tsarina was going to kill him for sure unless he took immediate and drastic action.

  He took a few minutes to contemplate his situation. The only logical solution he could envisage for his current situation centered on a specific mole. There were other possibilities to be sure, but the most obvious one was someone who worked in the police department. He couldn’t fathom any other way there could have been an interception of the goods. Only a cop could make one of his men talk.

  A cop arriving at about the same time as his men hit McGregor was also too much of a coincidence. The police had to be somehow aware. A cop must be on the payroll of the opposition whoever that was in Savannah. He would soon find out and totally destroy them to establish his iron rule like the one exercised by the Tsarina.

  When she answered his call, the greeting was icy.

  “I know you failed to recover the drugs. My money is in your hands, and I expect you to fix it or return the money. Do I make myself clear?” she said.

  Kareem comprehended precisely what she meant and the consequences to follow if he failed.

  “I’m discussing the problem now. My lieutenant is arriving there in a few hours. He will deal with the man who let us down as he must have talked to someone who told the police or the man himself gave it up to the cops. If he has any difficulties in sorting the problem out, I’ll go there too.”

  “For your information, the police have ID’ed the men as belonging to a gang in the Bahamas from their police records. I’m of the opinion there must be someone in the police who is working with our opposition in Savannah. It makes sense as they intercepted our shipment. They have the assets to get that kind of information and then pass it on to their contact with the drug gang who could take the action we experienced. I learned who the man is and in whose house the drugs ended up. We will have to deal with him later,” she said.

  “I agree. I was thinking the same thing. The police have to be in on it.”

  “I had lost my contact with the police there and was trying to reestablish a relationship with them. To date, I have been successful. I am delighted to have a man on the inside again,” she said.

  “What happened to the previous one,” he asked.

  There was no way the Tsarina would reveal what had happened to the former police lieutenant and his wife. The man had failed her at a critical time. The Tsarina did not take kindly to any failure in her organization. After a moment’s silence, she answered the question before she ended the call.

  “The same thing will happen to you if you fail to recover my drugs and get my operation established in Savannah.”

  16

  The next morning dawned bright and the sky was clear of clouds over Savannah. Chuck fed the parrot, and they drove to the yacht sales office. Darlene welcomed him with a peck on the cheek.

  “Missed you last night,” she said.

  “You didn’t miss a thing. I got a good night’s sleep,” he lied. Nothing of the events at his house had been on the news, at least, not yet. So he didn’t want to get into relating details about the raid to Darlene.

  “So have you decided on whether you will get the Absolute 40?”

  At that moment the Schipperke, Murphy, came running over to Chuck and did the praying thing. Chuck bent and rubbed behind the dog’s ears. Murphy rolled over to get his stomach petted, and Chuck obliged.

  “He has you wrapped around his paw,” Darlene said. “Does the boat go with him?”

  “Damn, you’re a great sales lady,” he laughed. “Yeah, I’ll take it. But you have to go with me to take it for a short cruise.”

  “Let me check with the office and see if I can go now.” She walked away and returned in a minute with a smile and a nod.

  “Let’s go.”

  The Absolute 40 Fly motored like a charm. The electronics and the motorized anchor made the task of maneuvering the vessel a cinch.

  This respite from thinking about the drug problem allowed Chuck to take stock of the things he planned to do. Sure he would help the police in any way he could, but he didn’t plan to get involved too deeply. He shied away from the thought it might become a job or anything resembling a commitment for an extended time. His idea encompassed a short-term engagement with the government agencies, and then he would be out and on his boats, getting to know the place better and becoming a first-class yachtsman.

  While his mind worked on this scenario, Chuck observed Murphy low crawling to where the bird rested on the deckhouse. When Murphy sprang at the parrot, the bird flew up in the air and landed on a stanchion. The parrot, with clipped wings, could fly for a short distance but not take off into the air for any significant time. Murphy attempted a repeat and sprang at the bird but missed. The bird alighted on the rail as Murphy flew overboard.

  Merlin began to squawk and flap his wings. Chuck saw what happened and instantly turned the vessel to come about to where Murphy dog-paddled. As he stopped beside the dog, Darlene used the boat hook to latch the dog’s collar and maneuver him to the rear of the vessel where there was a swim deck. There she could reach and pull him from the water.

  Once Murphy landed on the deck, he shook all the water he could off and looked for the parrot. Chuck grabbed him on his way to attack the bird again.

  “I suggest you need to have lessons for the dog on socialization skills and how to get along with others,” Darlene smiled, drenched as she was from the water Murphy splashed off.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Chuck said. Murphy came to him and snuggled in his lap, dripping wet. Chuck petted him as he steered the boat.

  “Nice try. You’re hooked.” Darlene had the parrot on her arm and moved toward Chuck. Murphy raised his head but didn’t go after the bird. “See, that ‘get along with others thing’ has already started. In a day or two they’ll be friends,” she said.

  “I’ll have to get him a life jacket, just in case he does it again and I’m by myself,” Chuck mused.

  “They make bright yellow ones for dogs,” Darlene added. “He’d look so cute all decked out in yellow and black. Also, I found you a place to dock your new yacht. It’s on the Wilmington River, not far from our docks. They should have the final repairs done by the end of the week, and you can complete your purchase of it then. I’ll give you the address for the manager of the dock, and you can make your arrangements on moving the boat there.”

  “We’ll have to go celebrate.”

  “In your home, not on the boat again,” she bent and gave him a real kiss this time and allowed him to feel her oversized breast pressed against him.

  They were nearing the dock by the sales office. Chuck pulled the yacht alongside, and Darlene threw a line to a member of the sales office who tied it off. He helped her off the boat onto the dock. She looked at Chuck anticipating an answer.

  “Deal.”

  He gave her a hug and headed for his SUV. His cel
l rang and when he answered, the voice of Emma, the AG’s special assistant greeted him with the information that she was on the way to Savannah and wanted to see him.

  He remembered the romantic evening spent with the gorgeous black lady, but the encounter belonged to history.

  “Love to see you again. But I have to let you know I have a somewhat steady relationship with a redhead now. You understand?”

  “Of course, I didn’t expect you to be a monk when I wasn’t there.”

  “What do you want to see me about? I’m trying to stay away from you AG types and cops, understand?”

  “I understand. Let’s talk later. Can I visit you around six at your place?”

  “You remember where it is?” he laughed as he said this.

  “I couldn’t forget.”

  17

  Chuck opened the door to greet Emma a few minutes after six. She still captured his eyes. He couldn’t turn away as he took in her extraordinary figure and ebony facial structure to rival Oshun, the African Goddess of Beauty.

  Emma Williams–AKA Amanda in the AG’s office–operated as an interior designer for her cover legend, in addition to being a lawyer. She served as an AG undercover investigator. Chuck had learned she was an amateur bird trainer and once had her own parrot. She stood a few inches shorter than he and had the brightest pure black eyes he had ever seen. Dressed in a red open collar blouse and a pair of tight-fitting black capris, her black hair seemed to shine and emitted an almost luminous quality.

  “Want a beer?” Chuck asked.

  “That would be great.” She walked into the living room area of the spacious downstairs of the converted warehouse. She took a seat in a black leather silver railed chair and waited for her beer.

  Chuck delivered it and took a seat opposite her. They reached over and tipped bottlenecks.

  “Good to see you,” Chuck offered.

  “I’d like to clear the air. I got your message about being involved with someone, and I'm happy for you. I want us to be friends, and I can’t tell you how much I admired you for what you did to help those girls in the sex trafficking racket.”

  Chuck eyed her with increasing suspicion. This praise she offered had to be leading to something and that something he was sure he wouldn’t enjoy. He took another swig of the beer.

  “Thanks, I think. I feel there’s an ulterior motive. I spent little time with you, okay maybe more than a little,” he gave her a full-faced smile. He stopped before he got a visual of the great sex they enjoyed on that one night. “So what brings you to Savannah?”

  “You are super keen. Yes, there’s something I want to discuss with you. I thought it might take a little time to get to it, but you cut to the chase. So, here goes.” She stopped and rearranged herself on the chair to more clearly face him. She took a big swallow of her drink before she continued.

  “I need to tell you a story of what we believe is going on in Savannah with the emerging drug gangs in the area. The information I will give you comes from highly classified sources and its accuracy received a high confidence tag from the intelligence community.”

  “Wait a minute,” Chuck interrupted. “I don’t want to get involved in any government operation and especially nothing to do with your office again.”

  “I'm fully aware of your position, Chuck, but you must listen to what I have to say. Whether or not you like it, someone involved you to a degree already. The man killed at your dock left you a big heroin present, and the attacks on your house by two different gangs left dead gang members in your home. That puts you in the middle of the drug trafficking here.” She stopped so Chuck could let what she had said sink in.

  “Okay, so maybe a little,” Chuck reluctantly conceded.

  “To give you the overview we suspect is happening here, let me say we believe there’s a gang trying to get set up here that’s controlled from Miami, which we think is Russian. It’s operating through a front organization based in the Bahamas. There’s another local drug organization trying to establish itself after you helped us get rid of one drug and human trafficking organization. This new group is trying to take over the vacancy created by the demise of the group you helped destroy. We also believe that organization was once part of the Miami Russian cartel.”

  Chuck stood and held up his empty beer bottle toward her. She nodded, and he went to get them a second beer. He took the time to digest what Emma was telling him. Perhaps she was spinning a tale they had conjured to try to get him involved. At this point, he saw no reason to even entertain the thought of changing his mind about getting involved on any permanent basis. He led a good life, one he was starting to enjoy. He didn’t need the angst of fighting drug cartels. The fact that one of them had attacked his home was a point in Emma’s favor and one he couldn’t overlook. He listened to the rest of her story without deciding.

  “You remember my friend Qing Longwei?”

  Chuck did. He pictured the short, dark-skinned NSA consultant. Qing’s family had escaped China in the early days of the Cultural Revolution. She possessed striking facial features, with an accentuated nose, high cheekbones and an ice-melting smile. Her brilliant brown eyes were flecked with gold. She’d helped him take down the sex trafficking gang.

  “I remember her. She helped us with her ability to figure out what was being said on the phones they used and where they were located.”

  “Right. She was my college roommate. Yesterday, she called to tell me people in one of the organizations were bantering around your name. She also told me that one of her other sources gave a name associated with the other group in Savannah. The name was Ramon, and he wants to take over the drug business here. He supposedly is the one who attacked the boat bringing in the shipment. That heroin was to be the start up supply for the new gang to establish a drug business here,” she said.

  Chuck felt a noose tightening around his neck. She wasn’t here on a friendly visit. The shoe was about to drop, and he remained conflicted about what course of action he should take.

  He needed to tell her to get the hell out of his life. That would be the easiest and the least difficult. He momentarily let his mind slip and thought it might be nice to have Emma in his life. No, that wouldn’t work. Darlene lived a few minutes away and Emma four hours away in Atlanta. Stop thinking stupid.

  “I need your help,” Emma said interrupting his thoughts.

  “Here it comes,” Chuck responded.

  He wondered if he should consider her request to relent now and enjoy an evening of sex with this luscious creature. Get a grip, he told himself.

  “I do,” she continued when he didn’t say anything. “I know the AG and the police have asked for your help. Now, I’m asking you to help me personally. I need someone like you to obtain the information I need to go after these criminals. Will you help me?”

  Damn, she was putting him on the spot. No beating around the bush, a straightforward personal request. He believed she suspected there was more to the raids that took place to capture the gang running the brothels, but no officials ever discerned his role in assaulting the headquarters of the group and his killing of all their leadership.

  “What conditions do you plan to put on me?”

  “None. You’re not employed by any government agency. You’re not carrying any badge with police powers. I only ask you to get information to help me act within the legal system. I don’t want you sticking your neck out to achieve this. It’s a passive assignment to get actionable intelligence.”

  “Passive and actionable are mutually exclusive concepts in my combat trained mind,” he said. “Is there anything else?” he said and stood. He wanted her to leave so he could think about it. He recognized in his soul, in that deep decent place, where he viewed right and wrong as opposites, he would have to help her. However, he didn’t want to tell her that right now.

  “Will you help me?”

  The woman wouldn’t give up. He escorted her toward the door. He opened it, and she stood there daring him t
o kick her out without answering her question. She reached and pulled him to her to give him a kiss. He remembered how great she kissed and this reaffirmed it. Then she took a step back. “Well?”

  He gave no answer, but escorted her out the door, and then closed it behind her. He returned to drinking his beer and ruminating on his current predicament.

  To help or not to help was the question.

  18

  Chuck enjoyed the night off in which he caught up on his sleep and read a Wayne Stinnett coastal adventure. It took his mind off the problems of the everyday world. After fixing coffee for himself, he had decided on his next step, but he didn’t relish doing it.

  He had reached the decision to assist the AG—no, not the AG. Emma. Deep in his soul there resided a spirit of honor and a sense of duty to help where he could. He’d always had a moral compulsion to do the right thing. It was just how his mind operated. With every ounce of devotion in his being, he had served his country. That sense of service now pushed him to eliminate the drug gangs in his town. His assistance wouldn't solve all the drug problems in the world, but it would help curtail the trafficking in Savannah. The AG and the police, however, would have to do the heavy lifting on this one.

  “I’ve been waiting for your answer,” was Emma’s flippant greeting when she answered his call.

  “Good morning, to you too,” he countered.

  “Okay, good morning. How are you?” she continued in a friendly and contrite voice.

  “I understood what you wanted last night. I assuredly did. I needed to think about it for a spell,” he said.

  “So, what have you come up with from all the grinding of your brain gears?”

  “You’re asking me to come out of a shell I feel comfortable in at present. I’m trying to get my life moving after leaving the service. You’ve already made that very hard by getting me involved in trying to stop the sex trafficking here.”