“Thanks, Johnny.” Detective Inspector Burgess noted McCabes’s use of the word “we” as he removed the microphone clipped to his shirt and said his goodbyes. Good, at least the press was on side and engaged. Burgess hoped this interview-cum-appeal might bear fruit. A member of the Police Communications Department stayed in the room as McCabe and his cameraman put away their equipment.
Chapter 26
It was four a.m. Hofstein and Gonzalez were flat on their stomachs in the sand, hidden by tall grasses. Sweat poured from them as they observed by the light of the moon shining intermittently from behind the clouds, what looked like an empty house standing alone with the remnants of a picket fence around it. Through their binoculars they could see that it had once been a modest one storey home with metal awnings over the windows. The garden had a couple of citrus trees and, defying all odds, a bougainvillea bloomed riotously up the left side of the front porch. They kept their heads low as they spotted movement inside, Gonzalez tasting sand in his mouth. He resisted the urge to swat away the mosquitoes as any movement could attract attention. Someone had just crossed in front of the window and looked to be carrying an automatic weapon, probably the owner of one of the dusty old pick-ups parked around the back. Across from them, members of the SWAT team were creeping into place. Even in the heat, the team wore full protective gear and carried night vision goggles. They were armed to the teeth with automatic weapons, stun grenades and tear gas. They even carried a battering ram. Hofstein and Gonzalez both wore their protective vests and prayed there would not be a full-fledged firefight. Neither had been in a bona fide shoot-out during their entire tenure as a detective and neither one relished the thought of having to fire his weapon today.
This raid was one of a series planned to go off at the same time. Other agents were surrounding the known hide-outs of Cujo and several of his contacts - names and addresses all courtesy of “Gecko” (or “Twitchy” as Gonzalez and Hofstein preferred to remember him). The raids would all be staged at four a.m. for maximum surprise. However, as this house was used as a laboratory, they stood to capture as many people during the day as at night. According to Gecko the refining, cutting and packaging took place around the clock in two shifts. The police had decided, therefore, to stage two raids: one to capture the night shift and the other – a much riskier venture in broad daylight – to take out the day shift. Gonzalez and Hofstein had been asked to come along as observers and to mop up at the end. The SWAT team would carry out the operational part of the raids - and the two detectives were grateful for that. They would remain on the outskirts with several other detectives from Vice to capture and arrest any escapees from the house. Hofstein turned to Gonzalez and winked at him in the darkness.
“I hope they haven’t been told we’re coming. It could get very ugly and, I don’t know about you, but my hands are a little shaky. God only knows what I’d hit, if I had to shoot. I’d probably take my foot off!”
“I know,” whispered back Gonzalez. “No need to remind me. Now I know why terrorists use RPGs instead of a miserable little hand gun! If all goes well, let’s go and get a beer down at the beach later. God knows, I could do with a swim right now!”
“It’s a deal… if you’re buying.”
Just then their radio crackled. Gonzalez shifted to respond.
“Okay, ready when you are.”
“Roger that”, said the disembodied voice. “Our reconnaissance team says there are about ten people visible with possibly more in the basement. They noticed that the outside guard goes to take a leak in the bushes just north of the house. When he goes again, that’s when we’ll move in. Stand by.”
“Copy that,” radioed back Gonzalez. “For God’s sake, Hof, our drug bust depends on the schedule of the guard’s bladder!”
“This sure ain’t like it is in the movies. I guess they’ll take out the guard when he moves away from the house.” Hofstein shifted to ease the weight on his elbows. He could feel the sweat trickling down his back and had begun to smell his own body odour. Was that what fear was supposed to smell like? Hell, he didn’t know but he sure was tense.
Gonzalez lay with the binoculars glued to his face. “How many do you think are in there? We have no idea how big that basement is; could be a hive of activity underground. I sure hope we have enough men. I wouldn’t want to see anybody get hurt.”
“Did you see that?” exclaimed Hofstein.
Gonzalez pressed his binoculars close to his face. He then saw the glowing arc of a cigarette as it was thrown away and movement as the guard made his way towards the back of the house. At the same time, a black figure, clearly visible against the white sand, detached itself from the bushes close to the house and followed him.
“I guess this guard is going to literally get caught with his pants down.” Gonzalez managed a nervous chuckle.
Just then the radio sprang to life advising they were going in. Gonzalez and Hofstein watched fascinated as two dark figures crept stealthily along the top of the roof, their helmets gleaming in the moonlight. To Gonzalez it looked surreal; he felt like he was watching a sci-fi movie with giant killer insects on the attack. He held his breath as he saw the rest of the SWAT team approach the house with a ram to break down the door. Both detectives were unprepared for the noise as all hell broke loose when SWAT members exploded through the front door while simultaneously breaking in through back windows. They heard the stun grenades go off and saw the blinding flashes of light. Ominously, they also heard cries and automatic machine gun fire. The raid had been planned meticulously because of the danger of explosion from the laboratory chemicals and the fear of destroying valuable evidence. As the team threw in canisters of tear gas, several people came staggering out into the open air coughing and half blind, dense grey smoke billowing behind them from the open doors and broken windows. Members of the SWAT team who had remained outside rounded them up and cuffed them. They watched as a couple of police vans screamed to a halt in front of the house. They had been hidden further down the road on standby. The laboratory workers were carefully loaded into the vans for a trip down to the police station. An ambulance pulled up to treat the wounded. From their vantage point Gonzalez and Hofstein could make out members of the SWAT team assisting two men to the back of the ambulance and one SWAT member limped out with the help of a colleague. It looked as if it was a matter of treatment for minor injuries. The voice crackled again on their radio to signal it was safe to approach. When they arrived, they were pleased to learn that no-one had been badly injured and no lab equipment seriously damaged during the burst of gun fire. “Like shooting fish in a barrel,” one of the SWAT team had commented to Hofstein. He had to admit that he was almost disappointed; the whole operation had taken less than fifteen minutes. In reality it was a little anticlimactic.
Gonzalez looked into the police van. Most of the workers looked Hispanic, probably illegal immigrants from Mexico, he thought. There was one Chinese man in a white laboratory coat. He reckoned he could be the chemist of the group.
“Take them back to the precinct and get them ready for questioning. Keep the Chinese gentleman separate from the others, will you?” He spoke to one of the officers due to escort the prisoners.
“Will do… and see you back at the station. Good luck with the next raid.”
“Thanks. The next one may not be so easy.” The van pulled away and Gonzalez was left wondering what the next raid would bring.
After a few minutes, the SWAT team leader gave the all clear and Hofstein and Gonzalez were able to enter the house without masks. They were amazed at the sophistication of the laboratory equipment. Obviously, they were processing heroin and doctoring some of it with strychnine but they were also cutting cocaine and making methamphetamines. There were separate rooms with different equipment for each particular job as well as several thousand dollars worth of scientific equipment to carry out the different stages of the processing. The basement was where the packaging was done and long tables held the product,
scales and packaging materials. There was a small air conditioned room which housed nothing but computer equipment. Both Gonzalez and Hofstein, who worked homicide, knew they were in well over their heads. The DEA and their colleagues in Vice would have a field day with this and would have a much better understanding of the whole operation. Even with their limited knowledge, they knew they had hit the jackpot and hoped that the seized computers and questioning of those captured would lead to the mother lode and to those behind this obviously well-financed drug ring. They stayed around a little longer talking to the SWAT team and waiting for the Crime Scene specialists to finish taking pictures and collecting evidence. They had to clean up the broken glass and try and put things into some semblance of order so as not to immediately alert the day shift. As they had to do this all over again in another hour or so without the cover of darkness, Gonzalez was concerned. It was much more likely that someone could have been tipped off as to the earlier raids and, in any event, the house looked a little obvious without glass in some of its windows. He spoke to the head of SWAT and they decided to lower the outside awnings. Someone might think it odd, but it was less alarming than seeing the smashed windows. Gonzalez thought that was a wise decision and was happy for the continued presence of the SWAT team who had radioed in for the next team to take over. They would have some men already inside the house to capture those coming in on the day shift.
Gonzalez called into his department and heard a loud cheer go up when the news had been relayed that the operation had gone as planned without death or injury. They knew that their colleagues would process the captured and have them ready when they got back to the precinct.
“I think it’s time to go back to eating grit,” said Gonzalez looking at the sky as it was beginning to get light.
“I just hope the mosquitoes don’t give away our position,” quipped Hofstein.
“The way I smell, it’ll more likely be the flies. Anyway, just lie there and think of that beer I’m buying. In fact, make it two.” If they got out of this unscathed, Gonzalez knew he’d be feeling generous.
Chapter 27
Sonya and Ewan were riding along the sandy track towards the water. They had just seen a movie at the Little Theatre in town and it was still early. Both still lived at home so they knew they had a little time to themselves before they needed to head back. The moon was up and the wind balmy as they rode along together. Ewan could feel her body pressed against his and was having trouble keeping the bike on the track. Sonya was enjoying tormenting him. She pressed her breasts against his back as she rode behind him and licked the space between his helmet and neck. It tasted salty and she found it was turning her on. She only had to reach in front to confirm that Ewan was responding to her advances. He veered off the track and they just about threw themselves off the bike and began running towards the water.
Ewan caught up with Sonya and playfully wrestled her to the sand. He began to unbutton her blouse and kiss her throat and then down to her navel. Sonya was writhing in ecstasy, exaggerating it a little to encourage Ewan. She flung her arms out wide and pushed her hands into the sand as Ewan’s kisses became more adventurous. As her body began to respond to his caresses, she thrashed her arms about more until suddenly her hand encountered something silky and damp. Pushing Ewan off her, she let out a blood curdling scream and jumped up. Ewan, now as terrified as she was, looked to where she was pointing. There, by the light of the moon, they could see something dark protruding from the gleaming sand.
“Ewan, what is that?”
The boy began to pull on the object until he unearthed what looked like some sort of nylon wind breaker.
“It’s just an old jacket – wait a minute,” he continued digging, “there’s something else here.”
He tugged at what looked like a stick or large bone in the sand and pulled hard.
“Look, it’s a knife,” he exclaimed. “The knife must have been wrapped in the wind breaker.”
Even by moonlight they could see the dark stains on the jacket. Ewan took the knife and jacket to the bike and switched on the engine so that he could examine them by the light of the headlight. The knife was a nasty looking light-weight weapon of solid construction with large holes drilled into the handle. The blade and handle were all one piece and part of the blade was serrated. It was immediately obvious that it had been wiped clean. Both had heard the news about the stabbing of Deon White and both were excited to think that this might have some bearing on the case.
“My uncle is in the police. Why don’t we tell him?” Sonya felt more comfortable going to a family member.
“Good thinking. How do we explain how we were out here?”
Sonya was quick off the mark. “We could always say we came to see the fire worms.”
“Great idea, except I can never remember how many days after the full moon they appear.”
“Who cares, we can always say we thought it was when the moon was full.”
All thoughts of a moonlight romp in the sand were banished and they were eager to share their findings with Sonya’s uncle. Ewan picked up the knife and wind breaker and wrapped them in a towel he kept under the seat of his bike. Sonya held them close to her chest as they roared off to find her uncle. This was a real find and, if it was what they thought it was, would probably get them into the papers and on the news. Both were thrilled to be a part of such a famous murder investigation and hoped that their discovery would prove significant.
Chapter 28
“Move the goddamn boat and move it now!” He was frustrated as hell. “Don’t argue with me. You heard the interview on the news. They know about a boat.” He was furious that, for the first time, he had used his own boat to ship product. He had just bought from an outfit in Jacksonville, a beautiful, tri-deck, 110 foot Sunseeker yacht complete with extra fuel tank, state of the art satellite navigation and communication systems - not to mention every modern convenience for gracious living. It was his pride and joy and a direct reflection of his success. He had had to bring the boat to Bermuda anyway and had allowed his cousin – his partner in the drugs trade - to talk him into allowing him to bring in a shipment of heroin with it. He cursed his stupidity, recognizing that greed had got the better of him. His cousin held a captain’s licence and had persuaded him that he would be in charge and would drop the packages overboard himself. It would be dark so the rest of the crew would never even know. At the time, it had seemed a reasonably calculated risk. Now he could kick himself for this lapse in judgement. For the first time, he felt vulnerable and it was not a feeling he liked. Lucky for his cousin he was family. He was feeling particularly murderous towards him and knew he would have to keep his emotions in check.
“If we leave it at the Yacht Club, it’s hidden in plain sight,” growled the voice on the other end of the telephone.
He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his back. Damn, he would have to change his shirt.
“Yes, but if they decide to search all the boats at the Yacht Club, it’ll be too late to move it without attracting suspicion. I am just worried that with these Canadian forensics specialists in town, the police may have more resources than normal to check for any residue of the drugs. Hell, I’m no expert but nowadays they sure seem to be able to trace just about anything.”
“Okay. I hear you.” The gravelly voice placated. “Do you want me to moor it at your friend’s in Tucker’s Town? He’s not coming back until the spring and his dock is as good as any.”
“Yes. Do that. I think that’s fine. If asked, we can always say that we’re friends… and make sure there is nothing on the boat that can link us to the drugs. I can’t stress that enough.”
“No problem. I’ll make sure it’s clean. None of the packages leaked so I don’t see how there could be any traces of them.”
“There’s something else I want you to do. I’ve made a phone call. That detective is getting too close. He’s all over the news and the island is getting behind him.”
He began to
talk earnestly into the phone, outlining his plan.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Goddammit.”
“Okay, I’ll take care of it,” said his cousin in a more subdued tone.
Chapter 29
The air conditioner in the murder room was not keeping up with the heat outside and the number of bodies inside. Detective Inspector Burgess had decided to call a meeting to go over details and consolidate facts. He had his team and the forensics group in the room together with those officers from Narcotics who were following up on leads on the tainted heroin. The public had not been backward in coming forward and the police were finding themselves mired in so much information that it was hard to see the wood for the trees. Some were seated and some were standing in various attitudes around a long cedar table. After they had arranged more chairs from a large stack in the corner so everyone had a seat, Detective Inspector Burgess began.
“First of all, I want to invite you to get your coffee and muffins from the sideboard over there and make yourselves comfortable. I’m not sure how long this will last and I want everyone to have a chance to give their feedback and suggestions.” Burgess wanted to set an informal, interactive yet business-like style to the meeting. “I think, to make this more productive, let’s talk about the heroin first and hear from the Narcotics team. That way, they can then get back to their duties.”
Burgess wanted as few non-essential personnel in the room when information began flowing regarding the actual murders. In the back of his mind was the possibility of an informant amongst the assembled group. For his part, he did not believe that any member of his immediate team had knowingly divulged information. He did, however, want to limit the number of individuals with access to critical areas of the cases. He was also toying with the idea of throwing in some false information to see if he could flush out the mole but he hadn’t had time to formulate a plan and wanted to talk to Archie about it. This was something he had never had to contemplate in all his years as a police officer and he felt a little out of his depth.
Square Snapper (Detective Inspector Burgess) Page 11
