Medusa's Lair

by Kenneth L. Funderburk

  “I thought the Mexicans handled all the wet work. Are you sure David will go along with this?”

  “Yes, he will. We’ve discussed it and decided that the job is mine. The Mexicans had their chance and failed. David had his chance and failed. Now the job is mine. We have him under surveillance, and tomorrow it will happen.”

  “Well, I thought David had a grudge against Chic because he thinks Chic is screwing his wife. He believes they’ve been lovers since college.”

  “David and I talked about that. We both agree that I’m more physically fit and should be able to better handle Chic. I’m the one who has the physical strength necessary. Dave is a tough guy, but I’m bigger and faster than he. My training in the martial arts is excellent. Chic’s a real badass, but I’m the man for the job. Then, I have the personal motivation to get even for you. Ken would still be around if Chic hadn’t gotten in the way. I feel like I owe this one to you.”

  “That’s awfully sweet of you, Larry. Ken was my brother. He and I were of a kindred mind. As kids, we used to talk about how we must have been adopted. Our mother, father, and brother have so much starch in their britches that they can’t move freely and certainly cannot think out of the box. Ken and I kept our true lives secret from them. Of course, you know this.”

  “I know that you and he collaborated closely on his business plans for the company. I’m not so sure, but you actually originated most of his ideas. Is that true?”

  “Yes, it is. I’m sure you know that I’ve never tried to insert myself into the affairs of the company, other than assisting Ken.”

  “We know that. That’s the reason you’re here. You’re here because I want you here, but tomorrow you will be at the resort by the invitation of the company. They, or we, have some long-range plans that may need your talents. The group is particularly interested, as I have told you, in your connections with the Russians.”

  “Wonderful. I’m happy you guys trust me. I’m at your command when you need me. What exactly is going to happen tomorrow?”

  “Basically, you and I will fly from here by private plane to the resort in Belize. I’ll drop you off at the resort and take a helicopter back to Belize City. When I’m finished with Chic, I’ll meet you back on the yacht.”

  Like teenage lovers, they stayed on the beach for the rest of the afternoon, watching all the lovely bodies strut their stuff up and down the beach. As the sun dropped below the horizon, they retreated to their room with just enough of a buzz on to kill any remaining inhibitions. The young naked bodies on the beach had been like war drums slowly mesmerizing them into a fevered pitch.

  Their lovemaking this time was not a gentle caress. It was an attack of two animals drawing from each other the maximum amount of physical pleasure possible, along with a little pain. This kind of pleasure that, in the mind of the deviate, can only be fulfilled with pain and bondage.

  Their sexual debauchery finally exhausted every ounce of energy in their bodies. They eventually collapsed as two spent ragdolls onto the bed, not moving until awakened by Larry’s assistant banging on the door.

  “Time to rumble,” he said.

  Larry acted as normal as possible as he and Myra boarded the twin prop plane at the private airfield near Tulum. His operatives kept him appraised of Chic’s location through his earpiece. They were working under the delusion that Chic didn’t know he was being followed.

  Chic was sitting in a trashy-looking pickup truck, parked in the shade of a tree but not hidden. Chic was quite certain that he was being watched. He intended to be seen but to not be too obvious about it. He was dressed in what he considered local attire—white T-shirt, blue jeans, boots, beat-up cowboy hat, and day-old beard. His blond hair and light complexion clearly marked him as an American dressed as a Mexican. Chic knew there would be no confrontation here. He assumed it would be in Belize, where the cartel had substantial clout.

  Chic got on his own private charter plane to take him to Belize City airport. He scheduled his departure to coincide with the departure of Larry and Myra from Tulum. His plan was to monitor the cartel group from Juan’s fishing boat. Chic had the equipment delivered directly to Juan’s boat, which was docked at a downtown fisherman’s wharf. Chic arrived at the airport and was promptly taken to his rental car. Time was tight, but he should be able to get himself in position to monitor the cartel’s yacht as it left the resort.

  As Chic was flying over Belize, he marveled at the beautiful beach and the azure water of the Caribbean. It was hard to accept the magnitude of the evil he was dealing with. He knew he was out on a limb. If the cartel handled everything as they should, all he was going to see was a beautiful yacht day sailing off the coast of Belize.

  On the good side, Chic knew the cartel was nervous. His presence had to make them look over their shoulder. They would worry about all the things they didn’t know. They had to assume that Chic had backup. Had he been able to penetrate their resort with listening devices? Had he been able to place spies at the resort? Chic was hoping they had an active imagination. His big concern was that the cartel had many assets they could call upon to cause him personal harm. They could attack him from anywhere.

  This was Chic’s kind of game. Two adversaries in a nose-to-nose confrontation where neither could truly predict the hand of fate. Chic, a man of faith, had a simple belief that right would prevail.

  Juan had his fishing boat docked near the San Pedro Ferry at the conjunction of the Belize River in the Caribbean. Juan was an averaged-sized Mexican. He had spent the morning cleaning the boat and making sure everything was ready for Chic. They had never met each other, but Danny had texted him a photograph of Chic over his iPhone. Juan was sitting in the captain’s chair when he heard his name called out.

  “Good to see you, Juan. How have you been?”

  Juan looked at the man carefully, but the guy’s face didn’t register with him.

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Juan. “I’m having a hard time remembering your name and recognizing your face. Have we met?”

  “Hell, Juan, I thought you would remember me. My name is Georgie. We met in Fronteras a few years back. I’m a good friend of your cousin, Danny.”

  “I guess I’m getting old. I can’t remember that, but if you are a friend of Danny, come on board.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that,” said Georgie.

  Georgie stepped aboard, and as he did, Juan turned to his left to get back in the captain’s chair. As quick as lightning, Georgie rammed an ice pick into Juan’s temple, jamming it into his brain. Juan fell onto his face, dead. No noise and very little blood.

  Larry, who was standing close by, casually stepped into the boat. “Good job, Georgie. Let’s drag Juan into the cabin. We’ll place him in a storage bin underneath the bunk.”

  “Now remember, Georgie, you’re playing the part of Juan. You have enough of his history to play the part. Chic has never met Juan, so you shouldn’t have a problem. When he gets here, we’ll have to move quickly.

  “Put on Juan’s hat and pull it down as low on your face as possible. Make yourself busy. You’ve worked on boats enough to make that look normal. I’ll start the engine. We want to be ready to pull out as soon as Chic arrives. I’ll be hiding in the cabin. Follow our plan on getting him to turn his back to the cabin so I can attack him from behind.”

  “I’ll do my best,” said Georgie.

  “Now, if anything goes wrong, Georgie, you jump in and help take out Chic. I think I can handle this songbird myself, but if I need somebody, be ready.”

  Larry was deep in his thoughts about the exact method he would use to kill Chic. He knew the cartel guys looked upon him as a softy. They figured he was an educated fool who couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag. Larry prided himself, however, as a physical specimen. He ate only the right foods, stayed in fighting shape at all times, and considered himself basically superior to most other
humans, including Chic. He knew he was a good athlete. In a way, he figured he had been training for a showdown like this all of his life. To move into the undisputed leader role of this unholy joinder of a drug cartel with a legitimate group of bankers required the spilling of blood—Chic’s blood. As he waited for Chic to arrive, he carefully rehearsed every move he intended to make. Larry was confident his plan was unstoppable.

  Chic’s car, an old Ford Explorer, was waiting for him at the airport in Belize. He didn’t waste any time hitting the road for Belize City. Danny had given him an old photograph of Juan, but the quality was so bad that the photograph was useless. Danny had given him a good description of Juan. Chic was confident that Juan would have everything ready to go.

  Chic was cavalier and lighthearted as he hastened to the waiting boat. One way or the other, he was going to identify his enemies. Then he was going to find a way to eliminate them. They had made Suzy’s life hell long enough.

  Chic was delayed by a traffic accident for fifteen to twenty minutes getting to the boat, Mermaid II. Chic found himself more fidgety than normal. Then he got an uneasy feeling. Chic believed in his premonitions. His belief in them had saved his life many times. When he finally got out of the traffic jam, he forced himself to not drive too fast. He didn’t need to be stopped by the police. There was no clock going. As soon as he spotted the boat, even before he spotted Juan, he had a sudden flash of danger. Juan had not seen him yet, so he took a little extra time sitting in his car trying to spot the source of danger.

  Everything looked normal. The boat looked ready to go. Mermaid II looked like a perfect platform for this kind of caper. It was a typical thirty-foot fishing boat, locally made. It fit in with every other boat around and should look perfectly normal fishing near the cartel’s island as well as coming close to the cartel’s yacht. Chic carefully observed Juan, who was busy making sure everything was straight and that the equipment was laid out for easy access. Chic didn’t notice any suspicious-looking men nearby. He saw no one other than Juan on the boat.

  Chic fumbled with his gear in his car trunk, carefully analyzing every move of Juan. Okay, he didn’t know Juan. This person he was looking at didn’t really match Danny’s description of his cousin. Finally, Chic focused on Juan’s shoes. Juan had on street shoes made of excellent leather. Danny’s cousin Juan couldn’t afford that kind of shoe. No local fisherman would wear a street shoe on a boat.

  Meanwhile, Larry was hiding in the cabin ready for his attack. He had received a message over forty minutes ago that Chic was on his way. He should have been there at least thirty minutes ago. He was getting hot and nervous. Larry didn’t know if he was coming with help, so he felt like he could not reveal himself in the cabin.

  Chic was now convinced that Juan was not Juan. This was a trap. Chic asked himself, if he were setting this trap, how would he plan it? He worked out his next move based on what he thought would take place on the boat. Chic removed his Ka-Bar from his ankle scabbard and put it in his belt. He had already put his .38 under the left side of his belt. If he was wrong in what he was about to do, he would seek forgiveness later.

  Chic approached the Mermaid II and hailed Juan: “Juan, Chic here. Are you ready?”

  “You bet, man. Come aboard.”

  Chic did as he was told, looking as calm as possible. Chic approached Juan and put out his hand to introduce himself. When Juan took Chic’s hand, Chic put a move on him, slamming him to the deck with the Ka-Bar on his throat and his knee in his belly, pinning his right hand to the deck. Chic made this maneuver where he was facing the door of the cabin. Chic felt he needed this guy alive to provide him information. He was of no value dead. If someone charged him from the cabin, whoever he was would be dead. Chic kept his eyes on the cabin as he removed his .38 from his belt.

  “Quickly, your name!”

  Georgie stared into Chic’s eyes. Chic knew immediately this was not Juan. Chic knocked Georgie out with the butt of the Ka-Bar and in one fluid motion charged the door to the cabin.

  Larry heard something hit the deck hard. By the time Larry peaked out one of the door slats, what he saw was a blur of Chic flying in his direction pointing his .38 at his head.

  Larry fired three shot from his 9mm in the direction of Chic. One of his shots showered Chic’s head with splinters, causing Chic to roll toward the bow of the boat. Chic recognized that the guy had the advantage with his 9mm.

  Larry had never been in a gun battle, and when Chic fired a shot that hit a couple inches into the planking of the boat next to his head, he panicked. He quickly fired off several rounds in the general direction of Chic, causing him to duck behind the cabin. Chic glimpsed Larry as he jumped from the Mermaid II, headed away from the boat. Chic didn’t have a good shot, but he took one anyway, hitting the windshield of the car next to Larry’s head.

  Larry ducked into a Mercedes sedan, speeding away from Chic. Chic fired a shot into the fake Juan’s leg, hoping to keep him on board until he could return.

  Larry took off in the direction of the waterfront. Chic was very familiar with Belize and immediately knew how to cut off Larry’s escape. Chic knew from experience that a running gun battle was nothing new in Belize. They had walled off the old city, separating it from the tourist areas. This car chase was going to take place in the old city, based on the direction Larry was headed in, away from the boat.

  Chic was able to get ahead of Larry and wait for him to come down the street. He only had to wait a few minutes before Larry came flying down the road toward him.

  Chic rammed Larry’s car in the left rear, causing him to crash into a power pole. While Chic’s Ford was disabled, he was unhurt. Chic was waiting when Larry excited his car, firing his big 9mm wildly. Blood was flowing from Larry’s head. Chic, hiding behind his open door, waited until he saw his opportunity. Larry turned to find a safer place to hide, but while turning, he exposed himself to Chic. Chic fired two shots, one hitting the heart area and the other into his head. Larry was dead by the time he hit the ground.

  Chic was faced with a large problem. Here he was in Belize, a foreign country, at the scene of two wrecked vehicles and Larry’s body. On the fishing boat, Mermaid II, was the body of Juan and Georgie, who he shot in the leg. To his credit, he had proof of his association with the sheriff and police officers in Pensacola and Fort Walton. The sheriff of Escambia County had also notified the authorities in Belize that Chic was there on official business. Chic would soon find out how much water this would hold in Belize.

  As the police approached the scene, Chic stood with his hands raised in the air. The pistol was on the car hood. Chic was handled like a stone-cold killer until the police were able to confirm who he was and why he was in Belize. Chic and the local authorities, after what seemed to be an eternity, returned to Mermaid II to retrieve the body. Fortunately, Georgie was still on board and alive, although he was in bad shape. He had lost a lot of blood from the gunshot. Juan’s body was found, as expected, in a locker under the seats.

  Roberto was in charge of Angel as it departed the dock at the cartel’s resort. The Zeta cartel was in full attack mode against the Sinaloa cartel for killing their banker. They had developed good intel for this operation, up to a point.

  What they didn’t know was that the cartel and bankers didn’t arrive at the same time or from the same point of origination. Otherwise, the Zeta plan of attack worked perfectly. A scuba diver had been dropped off and was waiting at a point where Angel would make a turn to starboard after leaving the dock to the open Caribbean. The diver knew that the bottom of the yacht would be examined immediately before its departure but not afterward.

  As the yacht made a slow turn to starboard, clearing the island’s inlet, the scuba diver approached on a motorized sled. The scuba diver attached two explosive packages to the yacht, one in fore and one in aft. He then moved into the Caribbean under the yacht, peeling off as he approached deeper w
ater. The diver dropped to the bottom, allowing the yacht to gain separation. The scuba diver heard the yacht pick up speed. In this clear water, he was able to judge that the yacht was a safe distance away. He then made his way to a fishing boat trolling in the Caribbean.

  He set the timer for twenty minutes. Zeta assumed all of the bankers and Sinaloa bosses would be aboard by then. The explosion was massive. Everyone on board was killed. There was little left for the investigators to examine.

  It helped that two of the best men Belize City had on their police force were sent to Juan’s boat. By the time they arrived, Georgie was awake and able to talk. Chic was allowed to participate in the investigation. As the officers were in the process of investigating Juan’s boat, there was a very large explosion toward the sea. The reaction of the officers and Chic was to jump down into the boat, looking for cover. When it seemed safe, they stood and could see the massive plume of smoke seaward.

  It was determined that Juan was killed with a puncture wound to the right temple. An ice pick, which was believed to be the instrument used to kill Juan, was found in a holster on Georgie’s belt.

  Georgie refused to confess to killing Juan, but he did spill the beans on Larry. There was no love lost between Georgie and Larry.

  Chic picked up enough information about the explosion from police radio traffic to know that the yacht Angel had been blown up in some kind of terrorist attack and that all aboard the yacht had been killed. The names of the dead had not been disclosed.

  The officers allowed Chic to secure his equipment, which was on Juan’s boat, in a locker at police headquarters.

  After around three hours of work in and around Juan’s boat, and giving statements to the police, Chic was released to go with several officers to the cartel’s resort in a police helicopter.

  Chapter

  19

  The cartel had spared no expense in building a world-class resort. Chic was impressed.