Lowcountry Punch

by Boo Walker

  “It wasn’t all lies,” I said. “Nothing I said about my feelings was a lie.”

  “Let’s not do this.”

  “I am doing this, Liz. I’ve waited a long time to say these things to you. That day on the porch—when I told you it was over—it was one of the worst days of my life. I didn’t have a choice, though. I’d just found out about you and Jack. I was two months into an investigation that was going to put him in jail for a long time. I couldn’t tell you that.”

  “You could have trusted me.”

  “I knew that and I wanted to, but I couldn’t make a decision based on my love for you. Or my trust. I had to do what was right for my team. You have no idea how hard we had worked to make this operation happen. I couldn’t risk it all.” I suddenly realized that I was speaking too aggressively. I took a breath and calmed my tone. “I knew, Liz, that you loved me. Just as much as I loved you. That’s what made it so hard. And that’s what I am telling you now. I love you. All I hoped since that day was that I could eventually walk away from this case and tell you the truth. That you could look into your heart and find a way to forgive me. To love me again.”

  “I don’t want to do this now.”

  “When are we going to do it, then?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Give me another chance.”

  “I could never do that. We don’t even have a foundation anymore.”

  My phone rang. I glanced at the screen. It was Jack.

  “Let’s start over,” I said, ignoring the call. “I will tell you the truth now and always. I am a DEA agent. My name is T.A. Reddick. I love you, Liz Coles, more than you’ll ever know. I want to be with you. I will make sacrifices to be with you. What else matters? I know my timing is all wrong, but there was no other way. You have to see that.”

  “I don’t have to see anything.”

  “Please consider my position. I can’t let you go.”

  “You have to.”

  The airport was a mess. People were racing everywhere with luggage in their hands, worried about missing their flights. Liz had thirty-five minutes before her 10 p.m. flight, and she was out of the car before I had fully stopped. I threw it in Park and hopped out to help her with her two bags, a canvas carrier and another that said Jack Spade on the side.

  She finally looked at me, but I could not decipher what I saw. To think she was even thinking of me or of us was probably absurd and selfish, considering what had happened, but I wanted to think so. I wanted to think she could see past my lies and see the difference between Jack and me. I opened my arms, and she hugged me. Not for long, but it was something that said she knew the difference.

  ***

  I had a few choices to make on the drive back in her Mustang. I could go back to Jack’s and kill him. Not good for my career or much of anything, but it would feel good. It would almost be worth life in prison. Or I could go back and find Steve and Chester, see what I could do to help. A few years ago, the decision might have been harder. Though nothing had been proven, it appeared I might be growing up.

  There was still a hell of a storm on the way. Most of the cars on the road were headed out of town, but some brave souls drove toward the coast like I did. Maybe they had some unfinished business to attend to as well.

  I’ve seen a few hurricanes in my day, from living down in Miami. Looking through the darkness to the heavens, seeing the long, thin clouds that looked like rooster tails, I knew Hurricane Henrietta was on her way.

  Chester’s call pulled me out of the mire. “Baroni filled me in. Did you get her to the airport?”

  “Yeah, she’s gone. I’m on my way back.”

  “Jack, Kado, and Ronnie just hopped into Ronnie’s truck and are riding toward the marina. The buy might be going down.”

  “Jack tried to call me. Let me call him back.”

  I dialed Jack. Hearing his voice made what happened to Liz so much more real.

  “Where’d you go?” he demanded.

  “Had to run out for a bit. Who are you, my mom? I’m headed back now.”

  “All right. Meet us at the boat. It’s time. Make sure you’re packing.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  I called Chester back and told him the plan. “Wear your wire. Say the word and we’re there.”

  “Got it.”

  “How’s Liz?” Chester’s always thinking about other people.

  “She’s waiting for her plane now. Wasn’t talking much.”

  “I can only imagine what’s going on in your head. You sure you’re up for this? Maybe you don’t need to see Jack right now. We can probably take them without you. We just gotta figure out where the meet is.”

  “I got it under control, podna. If I don’t show up, he might scare and call it off. I appreciate you looking out for me, though. You’re a good friend.”

  “Don’t get all sappy on me, Reddick. I don’t like you that much.”

  “As long as you got my back, I’m cool.”

  “I got your back. Let’s wrap this thing up.”

  “I’m on it.”

  How could it get any worse?

  IV

  “The heart beats in its cage.”

  - Julian Casablancas

  CHAPTER 35

  I left the Mustang hidden in the far corner of the parking lot and jogged toward the docks. The marina where Jack kept his boat was about a mile away from his condo. The black clouds in the Southeast moved across the sky like a battalion of men on horseback on their way to war. Looking around, I realized there were no animals. No birds. No squirrels. No dogs or cats. It was a strange feeling, being that alone.

  The first drops of rain fell as I reached the A-dock, and I followed the lights to the middle. A few boaters were preparing their vessels, doubling up dock lines and fenders and making sure everything was tied down.

  At the last minute, I decided I couldn’t go in wired. I said into the mic, “I’m taking this off. They’ll search me. I’m not taking the chance.” I ripped the wire off my chest and the transmitter off my waist and tossed it into the water.

  Jack, Ronnie, and Kado were on the Taggin’ Wagon waiting on me. Jack was on the bridge. He had removed his Ibiza shirt and had no shoes on. His pants were rolled up. When he saw me coming, he started up the twin Cummins engines and they roared to life.

  The rain picked up as Jack weaved us through the marina and into the black, swelling harbor. I climbed the ladder and joined him. It took everything I had not to throw punches. I couldn’t get the images of him and Liz out of my mind. How he’d gone after her. How he’d tried to force himself on her.

  “Where the hell you been?” Jack asked. He had a deep gash in his forehead from where Liz had hit him.

  “Tela and I went for a walk.”

  “I had a feeling. I know everything, Trav. Get used to it.”

  “I’ve got nothing to hide. You wanna fill me in on what we’re doing?”

  “We’re meeting some guys I know down South. Over near John’s Island. I don’t expect problems but you never know.”

  “You ever worked with them before?”

  “Never. That’s why I’m bringing the three of you. I met the one guy down in Cartagena a couple years ago. He’s legit. It’ll be the cleanest coke that’s ever hit Charleston. People will be begging for it. Mark my words.”

  Jack steered us right, moving close to the Battery. The water crashed violently against the sea wall and the wind blew hard against the trees. We rode nearly the same path that Liz and I had traveled when we’d gone to see the fireworks show, under the James Island Bridge and through the Wappoo Cut. We lowered the outriggers—thick poles that are used for trolling—and barely squeezed under the Wappoo Cut bridge. We couldn’t have done it if it hadn’t been low tide. Then we passed by my house. I’d completely forgotten to get someone to board up the windows. Too late now. We came out at the Stono River, near where I’d met Liz.

  “There he is,” Jack said, pulling back on the throttle
. The Taggin’ Wagon settled down into the water as it slowed. I looked out over the bow. Through the sheets of rain, I could make out the outline of a Hatteras motor yacht, about fifty feet long, waiting for us. An eerie feeling came over me.

  “Ronnie!” Jack yelled. “Get up here. You’re steering.”

  Ronnie took over, and Jack and I threw on rain jackets and went down to tie up the boats. The older Hatteras looked like it had been built in the 1970s. It was in good shape but it didn’t have the sleek design of anything built in the last twenty years. There was one man at the helm and another tossing out fenders.

  Once we were ten feet away, I threw a line over. The man who caught it was Latino and had an unkempt beard and big, round eyes. Probably mid-forties. He didn’t have a shirt on, but he wore a piece in a shoulder holster. He tied the other end of the line to a bow cleat. We did the same with the stern. That’s when I noticed the boat’s name painted in blue: Blackbird.

  Jack jumped aboard Blackbird, and the captain, covered by a poncho, climbed down from the bridge and met him in the cockpit. They embraced and talked for a moment. The screams of the wind and rain covered up their voices. They stepped inside the salon.

  I negotiated my way to the bow, the wind now blowing the rain sideways, stinging my face. I looked forward. We weren’t that far from a patch of marshland. I could see the oyster beds. The marsh reeds were swirling back and forth and fronds were ripping off palm trees and flying violently through the air. How far was my backup? There was a GPS transmitter on the boat, so they knew where I was. Why weren’t they moving yet?

  Jack emerged moments later and stepped back on board the Taggin’ Wagon. He went inside, I assumed to get the cash.

  A third man appeared on the Blackbird’s deck. No shoes. A submachine gun dangling from his shoulder. I held an arm over my eyes, trying to make out his face.

  Under the hood pulled over his head, I saw the pockmarked face of a Cuban man I used to know. The eyes of an old friend. A ghost from my past. I’d been anticipating this moment, but not in this way. Not this way at all.

  It was Diego Vasquez.

  Guess it wasn’t him that had tried to snipe me. We wouldn’t have been caught in this situation if it had. Our eyes met and locked, the recognition taking longer than you might think.

  He swung the machine gun around and pointed it right at me. “He’s a Fed!”

  CHAPTER 36

  I hit the deck and barely missed the spray of Diego’s gun as the bullets ripped into the fiberglass. I rolled onto my stomach and carefully aimed. Put his chest into my sights and fired. I’d missed him in Miami and didn’t plan on making that mistake again. The bullet smacked him backwards, his finger clinging to the trigger, the submachine gun still firing.

  The captain was scurrying up the ladder toward the helm. We exchanged fire, but my best shots missed him by inches. I crouched down low and scurried to the port side of the Taggin’ Wagon, hiding behind the main cabin. A continuous stream of bullets blazed by me.

  I heard Blackbird start up and the engines whine as the throttle was pushed down. The boats were still tied together, and Blackbird began to drag us. The Taggin‘ Wagon tilted starboard, and I grabbed onto the deck railing with my free hand. My body slid forward. Someone was still firing. I didn’t know which way it was coming from. Once I got my footing, I looked to the stern, making sure it wasn’t from Jack or Ronnie. I had no idea what they had made of Diego’s accusation. I didn’t see them.

  I crawled forward and tried to get another good shot in at the captain, but the line holding the two boats’ bows together suddenly snapped, leaving only the sterns connected. The massive sixty-one-foot hunk of fiberglass underneath me whipped around so quickly that the bow popped up into the air, and I tumbled back and smashed into the window, hearing it crack. Upon impact, I lost the grip of my gun and watched it splash into the water. Another jolt sent me rolling back to the railing. I barely grabbed the outrigger, saving myself from falling overboard.

  Now Blackbird was pulling us backward at full throttle, one very taut line holding the boats together. The stern dug in, and the Taggin’ Wagon started taking on water. With all the strength I had left in me, I pulled up and got onto my knees. Took a couple breaths, still holding onto the outrigger with both hands.

  I started working my way toward the stern. I needed to cut that line. I slid down into the cockpit. Ronnie, Jack, and Kado were all there. Jack was hitting the cleat with a fish club, trying to break us free. If the line snapped, it could whip back and kill someone. A bolt of lightning zapped the water, and thunder erupted around us.

  With a loud rip, the cleat gave way. I grabbed the ladder just in time. Blackbird sped off with tremendous propulsion, and the Taggin‘ Wagon completely stopped and sat upright. We were all thrown forward. Kado slammed into the bulkhead and yelled liked he’d broken something. His hand went to his head. The water on board washed away like liquid dumping out of a bucket, and we all finally found our balance.

  Jesus, where the hell was my backup? I didn’t want to jump overboard. Even if it was going to save my life, I couldn’t let these guys get away. I had to assume the GPS transmitter Baroni had installed weeks earlier had failed on me.

  “Get up!” Ronnie said, pointing a Glock at me. “You too, Kado.”

  “Me?”

  “Shut up. Both of you get inside the cabin. Now. And put your hands in the air. Jack, you should have listened to me, man.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Get up!”

  Kado and I both stood. Blood was running down the side of his head. Ronnie followed us in. The TV had been ripped off the wall, and wires dangled everywhere. The floor was wet. Everything was scattered all over the place.

  “Take a seat on the couch,” Ronnie said, shoving us forward with the gun against our backs.

  We both collapsed onto the L-shaped ostrich-skin couch. Despite the gun on me, I welcomed getting out of the elements and wiped the water from my eyes.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jack asked me, his teeth gritted in fury.

  “You know who I am.”

  “Kado, who is he? You’re the one who brought him in. Is he a cop?”

  No response.

  Jack fired a shot into the couch, inches from him. “Who the fuck is he!”

  “Please,” Kado pleaded. “Please. Don’t kill me, Jack.”

  “I will not ask again. Who is he?”

  “His name’s T.A. Reddick. He’s DEA.” Kado looked at me with tears in his eyes. I glared back at him.

  Jack aimed the gun at Kado’s head. “You flipped on us!”

  Kado crumbled before our eyes. Rats are rats are rats. A soft hum at first, and then the tears and wailing. “I had to! They didn’t give me a choice. They busted me. They were onto us anyway. Please don’t shoot me. I’m begging you.”

  I could see Jack’s mind spinning with questions. He had decisions to make. Was he really going to pull that trigger? He pulled the slide back and tightened his aim on Kado. “I hope it was worth it.”

  “Wait, wait, wait! I can get you out of it. I can help you.”

  Jack pulled the gun back. “How’s that?”

  “You gonna let me go?”

  Jack fired another shot. “Talk!”

  “I’ll refuse to testify. And I’ve got something else, too. Travis—I mean T.A.—is the one that’s been seeing Liz. The one you’ve been looking for.”

  No, he didn’t.

  Lightning flashed around us, and the thunder cracked like someone was breaking boards in the sky.

  “What are you talking about?” Jack asked.

  “I swear to you. He was seeing her before I met him. Before he went undercover.”

  “Is this true?” Jack asked me.

  “No idea what he’s talking about. Look at him. The guy’s losing it.”

  Kado could see he was getting somewhere with Jack and his optimism was borderline pitiful. “Look on my phone. It’s in the drawer there. I’
ve got a picture of them together. Took it at the Blind Tiger.” With his gun still on us, Jack moved around the counter of the galley and opened up the drawer. He pulled out Kado’s phone and went to the picture gallery. Started flipping through with Ronnie looking over his shoulder.

  Kado kept talking. “This could help you, Jack. If they catch you. You can say he set you up as some sort of payback for leaving Liz, or cheating on her or whatever. See what I mean?”

  “Kado…Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” Jack kept clicking through the pictures until he found something. His eyes filled with rage. Whatever he was looking at wasn’t good. He set down his gun and glared at me with eyes that could kill.

  CHAPTER 37

  “Keep your gun on them,” Jack said to Ronnie.

  He came around the corner fast.

  What kind of fight do you put up when there’s a gun pointed at you? I soon found out. Jack’s first swing had the power of a damn jackhammer. Even blocking it with my forearm, it hurt like hell. It’s amazing what a little hate will do; how much extra strength you’re able to tap into.

  I had some hate, too, and came back hard with a left to his chin. He backhanded me and bloodied my mouth. We were on display for Ronnie and Kado, but it wouldn’t last long. I got a good one into his stomach and decided I liked my odds better on the ground. I slammed him up against the wall and knocked him to the floor. He took the advantage first, getting his arm around my neck and squeezing. I’d never seen Jack fight, and it was becoming clear that he knew what he was doing. I didn’t have time to wonder how this little daddy’s boy had learned how to throw down.

  There are no rules in fighting when you’re fighting for your life. That’s another Quantico tidbit, one that had been circling around dojos and kwoons since the beginning. Go for the balls, the nose, the eyes, the throat, the ears. I took a good hold of his left lobe and tried to rip it off. He let go of me. I struggled to my feet.