Kingfish

by Frank Perry

be earned through merit and fairness.”

  “I don’t know what she’s gonna to do Leigh.”

  “Did you give the SAC language to Romanoff?”

  “Yes.” He’d given it to Michelle Hicks, which amounted to the same thing.

  “Good. Your new friend Ms. Morrow will do what’s she’s told, or she’ll find herself back in the steno pool. Romanoff doesn’t take any grief from staffers, unless she’s really attractive.”

  He chuckled as he walked. “Leigh. I’m shocked that you could say that.”

  She laughed. “Yeah. I’ve been reading about Romanoff’s exploits since you were in grade school. He’s come close to ethics sanctioning more than once. He actually got accused of statutory rape with an intern a few years ago, but she got promoted to some other Congressman’s office with her parent’s consent. Mostly, he stays above legal age, but the guy will jump anything sexy. It sounds like Ms. Morrow is safe.”

  “She’s more than safe, Leigh.”

  “Good, then she’ll do what’s she’s told. Check in with Romanoff’s office in a few days.”

  “Okay. Thanks, I gotta go. I’m heading underground.”

  On the west coast, Luciano Peña was preparing his acceptance speech as the first elected president of the San Francisco Commercial Fishermen's Association. It was a sham to him, but it was important to maintaining the veneer over his true enterprise. He was alone in his office with the door closed. His young assistant, Roxanne, was sitting behind her desk outside his door, trying to ignore stares from Ramon and another guard. She was not hired for her administrative skills. Peña had other needs that weren’t always satisfied at home. She knew his special pleasures, but the two “animals” sitting across from her terrified her. She knew they would never touch her as long as Peña was pleased. She’d asked him before to have them stay away, but they were still there. She tried to appear busy, shopping online at her computer when the phone rang.

  She used the intercom to announce. “Luca, it’s Senator Jenson, calling for you. Jenson was the California ranking member of the Committee on Commerce, Science, and Transportation: Oceans, Atmosphere, Fisheries, and Coast Guard.

  Luca answered, “Senator, how are things on the Committee?”

  “They’re fine, Luca. We’re busy doing the people’s work trying to keep the oceans open for my good friends in the fishing industry in California.”

  “Well, we appreciate your good work, Senator.”

  “Thank you, Luca. I’m told you were elected President of the SFCFA – did I get that right?”

  “That’s correct, Senator.”

  “Okay, Luca, I have one other piece of information. That draft language floating in the SAC bill (Drug Policy revision) is gaining support in the HAC.”

  “That is interesting, Senator.”

  “Yes, I thought you should know, Luca.”

  “I appreciate that, Senator.”

  “You are indeed welcome, my friend.”

  The call ended, and Peña now had a large problem. It was one thing to craft a bill for publicity and media exposure in order to have it killed through public outrage. But now, with bipartisan support, it might have a chance of making it into law. Something had to be done.

  He yelled, “Roxanne. Get me the Mayor (of San Francisco).

  The Major was elected mostly because Peña contributed huge amounts of money to his campaigns and for funding high-visibility projects where the Mayor got publicity at ribbon cuttings. Peña also provided clandestine rendezvous with his “special lady” friend. Peña only shared her with the Mayor.

  Roxanne came to his door, being sure to look sexy in her miniskirt and see-through blouse. “The Mayor went home from work, Luca.”

  He let out a frustrated shrug, “Roxanne, I don’t care if you have to pull him out of the men’s room. Call his cell phone. Call him at home. Tell him I want to talk to him – now!”

  She huffed, but did as she was told. Moments later, the Mayor was on the line.

  “Mr. Mayor, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, Luca. It’s delightful to hear from you, I’m heding for LA in less than a hour.” He was in the back of a black limousine being driven through San Francisco traffic toward the airport.

  “Mr. Mayor, I’d like to ask a favor of you.”

  “Sure, Luca, anything.”

  “I’d like you to call your Congressmen friends and find something out for me.”

  “What would you like to know, Luca?”

  “I heard that the Senate Appropriations Committee is preparing language to legalize drugs.”

  “I heard something like that too, Luca.”

  “Yes. Well Mr. Mayor, could you find out who on the House side is supporting this?”

  “Well, sure, Luca. That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll make some calls tonight.”

  “Thank you, Mayor. Have a safe flight to LA.”

  Surveillance

  Ocean Queen departed her berth on Pier 26, directly under the Oakland Bay Bridge at three o’clock in the morning with the receding tide. The new captain, Pete Korb, was a convicted felon who spent most of his youth smuggling small amounts of marijuana from Mexico to Southern California. He began in high school with an old eighteen-foot runabout that was given to him by his uncle when he went to jail. His father had been murdered over some labor dispute with the local painter’s union before he could remember him. Pete never finished high school in Oceanside after he made his first trip to Mexico in the small boat. He’d risked his life at seventeen out of youthful ignorance or disregard for the danger. He drove the boat to Ensenada with another dropout, using a fifty horsepower Evinrude motor he bought from a local “reseller” who had obviously stolen it. All of the trips in this boat could have ended disastrously numerous ways in bad sea conditions, boat failures or pirates. The criminals on both the selling and buying end of the journey were capable of murdering him for any number of reasons, or no reason at all.

  Pete learned the smuggling trade before his classmates entered their senior year. That year, he scrapped the old boat and bought a new thirty-foot SeaRay with extended-range fuel tanks and twin three-hundred horse motors. It could cruise leasurely over thirty knots all the way to Cabo San Lucas on one load of fuel. In a sprint, it could hit sixty. By refueling, he could get all the way to Central America.

  By the time he was twenty, he had three boats and crews that he had trained. He handled all the money transactions but let other’s take the risks on the ocean. Life was good for Pete for almost five years, until his boats were seized in a DEA sting operation, and the crews pleaded out against him. He spent ten years of his long sentence at San Quentin Prison, learning to survive against murderers and other career felons. He entered as a boy, but quickly learned to take care of himself. One man tried to rape him and found out, before dying, how adrenalin and sheer terror could transform a youthful young body into a killing machine. The attacker slipped on the shower floor and Pete slammed his heal into his temple then stood on his throat until the man’s pulse quit. The attacker could probably have been revived, but the other inmates didn’t particularly care. No one was ever identified for killing the man.

  Ramon Vasquez and Pete got acquainted in prison. Ramon got Pete the job on Peña’s boat. As an ex-con drug smuggler, Pete had no other prospects. After four years, he learned to captain the big ships and was eager to take command of the Queen. Of course, his first night on the job, dumping his predecessor into the sea, was a reminder of what Peña did to people when he was unhappy.

  The early morning departure was standard operating procedure for the Queen. It would leave port early in the week, fish along the northern California coast as far north as Portland then return at the end of the week, usually with a full hold of fish. Pete was an experienced boatman when he went to prison, but had learned to navigate and operate the nets on the job since he was freed.

  At dawn, ten miles west of Point Re
yes, the huge trawl net began unrolling over the stern of the ship. It took ten minutes to un-reel almost half a mile of nylon fish net. Side plates were deployed to widen the mouth, and the ship maintained a steady three knots forward, essentially standing still against the current.

  Queen was the oldest of the fleet and was not converted for drug smuggling. It had the latest equipment for fishing. On deck it had Gilson winches, and net drums to control the trawling cables. Inside the wheel house, Queen had the latest contemporary electronics, including navigation and communication equipment, sonar, and net control electronics. All controls were laid out conveniently around the captain’s chair. Navigation aids included GPS, sonar, auto pilot and long-range radar. They had the latest UHF and VHF radios and an automated maritime distress system

  Net controls used acoustic sensors which measure the depth and opening of the net. During trawling operations, a range of trawl sensors communicated a virtual image of the net superimposed above the sea floor on a color monitor. These “net sounders” showed information about fish concentrations at the opening. The “catch sensors” told how full the net was with fish. Overall, the ship was a marvel of technology assuring the optimum use of men and machine.

  The sun was just dawning over the coastal mountains when Pete relaxed with a cup of coffee. Deploying the nets takes precision and coordination from the crew. He didn’t know most of these men but assumed they were all criminals