Bloody Basin

by John R Cuneo

  Agent Tygard came right to the point. “Meet me for lunch at the usual café on Scottsdale Road. Be there at one o’clock, and lunch is on you today.”

  Detective Gore arrived at the restaurant at exactly 1 p.m., and as usual, Agent Tygard was already there, waiting for him. Sitting down at the table, the detective cautiously and carefully looked, around making sure none of the other patrons were within listening distance. “Good afternoon, Lank. Why do I have the pleasure of buying you lunch today?” “Once again not beating around the bush,” Agent Tygard said. “We’re going back to St. Louis for a meeting with the team.”

  Hearing this, Detective Gore was curious as to what had happened that would cause the team to meet again. “When are we going?” he asked.

  “Tomorrow morning, and like our last trip together, I’ll be picking you up at six o’clock.”

  “Does this mean we’ll be flying in your airplane again?” asked Detective Gore.

  “Yes,” acknowledged Agent Tygard. “And this time, I’ll let you fly the airplane.”

  “That’s not very funny,” replied the detective.

  Both of the men laughed.

  “Enough talk. Let’s order some lunch. By the way, tell your wife we’ll be gone for four days, and don’t worry about your boss. I’ve already contacted him and told him you’ll be accompanying me on official business regarding the Salazar case,” Agent Tygard said.

  The flight to Albuquerque was uneventful for the most part, except for several tense minutes of flying through clouds and dodging a thunderstorm. Detective Gore was happy to be back on solid ground, and as the aircraft taxied to the parking area, he saw Chuck McGowan standing outside the FBO building. Detective Gore wondered what could be so important as to call another meeting of the team.

  As Agent Tygard shut down the engines of the aircraft, Chuck walked over and opened the side cargo door, removing their luggage. Not waiting for the men to get out, Chuck disappeared into the building. He soon reappeared, greeting the two men and telling them not to get too comfortable because they would be departing for St. Louis within the hour.

  “Hello, Lank. Hello, Adam. It’s good to see you fellas again,” said Chuck. “We have just enough time to grab a quick bite before we take off.”

  The three men walked over to the airport café. As they ate, they saw the large hangar doors opening and Chuck’s company Learjet being carefully towed outside. Two pilots inspected the aircraft, making sure everything was ready for their flight. After lunch and a quick stop in the men’s room, the three men boarded the jet and prepared to depart Double Eagle for their flight to St. Louis Downtown Airport.

  On board the beautiful aircraft, the copilot for the day informed them that it would be an IFR flight all the way to St. Louis and that they might encounter some turbulence, so they should keep their seatbelts on.

  Detective Gore looked at Chuck. “What does IFR mean?”

  “We’ll be flying on instruments all the way to St. Louis. Currently the visibility there is between two and three miles with heavy rain in the area. The bottoms of the clouds were fifteen hundred feet above the ground,” Chuck said. “I wish I hadn’t asked,” Detective Gore replied.

  The three men laughed.

  Coming down out of the dark clouds, the men could hear and feel the landing gear lowering as they made their final approach into the St. Louis Downtown Airport. Soon after, there was the sound of the tires contacting the runway, which was very welcome for Detective Gore. There was a car waiting for them at the executive terminal that took them to their meeting with Paul Rossi. This time, they were staying at a private residence where security was assured. The men arrived at a beautiful home just outside of town and met Paul Rossi and another man who was not familiar to any of the three.

  As they exited the car, Paul greeted them and introduced Eric, the man responsible for their security and privacy.

  “If there’s anything you need, don’t hesitate to let me know,” said Eric, and he removed the baggage from the car and made his way into the large private residence.

  Paul escorted his three team members to a very well-appointed office, where they could talk in private without fear of being listened to or recorded by anyone. In the room, there were several trays of sandwiches and snacks along with drinks, including a well-stocked bar.

  After the four men were seated and comfortable, Paul began his briefing, bringing the other members of the team up to speed on what had happened in Washington since they had last seen each other. Looking at the others, Paul told the facts regarding Fena LaStrange and Delmo Estranho.

  “I assure you that the two people I was watching were the ones involved in stealing documents from the FBI. Delmo was also selling the notes from meetings that took place within the White House,” Paul said.

  Agent Tygard was the first to ask for more specific information regarding the two individuals, and Chuck answered his questions and left no doubt in anyone’s mind that the two people in question had been supplying information to the drug cartels for profit.

  “I don’t want to give specifics on how the two were dealt with. They’re out of the picture and won’t be selling any more information,” Chuck told them.

  Detective Gore was somewhat uncomfortable. Even though he had an attempt on his life, he was still new to this type of law enforcement.

  Paul looked at Detective Gore and said, “I can see you’re a bit uncomfortable, but this is how we handle these types of situations.”

  “I completely understand,” said Detective Gore. “And I believe we’re doing the right thing for any number of reasons, but again, this is still new to me.”

  It was then Chuck asked Detective Gore to elaborate on his encounter in Phoenix. Detective Gore told the men exactly what had happened and how his training had saved his life that day. Turning to Agent Tygard, he thanked him again for recommending the private self-defense training.

  Paul suggested they take a short break before continuing with the debriefing. As the men made their way to the table for refreshments, Paul gave each of them a package containing $75,000 in cash. “As I told you, the two people I was investigating were both neck-deep in working for the drug cartels, and they both had plenty of cash hidden in their private residences. I just couldn’t leave the money lying around, so I took it to help pay for our time and expenses on this case.”

  During their break, Agent Tygard described the amount of disruption and mayhem that had been happening in the drug world since the death of Nicholas Salazar and Mateo Mondaca.

  “Both the organizations are in shambles, and the infighting has taken the lives of at least two dozen low and midlevel narcotics dealers. And with the death of José Vega in Las Vegas, the only thing left to do is to track down all the cash that has been hidden by the drug kingpins,” Agent Tygard said. He went on to describe the details around the José Vega murder.

  “My encounter also involved a storage shed facility in Gallup, New Mexico,” Chuck said.

  Detective Gore clapped his hands together and said, “Son of a bitch, that’s what he’s doing!” This sudden outburst of emotion startled the other men.

  Detective Gore went to Paul. “I have to get to my suitcase right now.”

  Detective Gore was escorted to his room, where he found his luggage. He took the notebook from his suitcase and went back to the conference room to describe his theory to the others.

  “Look at this,” he said, and placed the brown notebook on to the table so all could clearly see it. Then, flipping the pages open, he showed them the business cards in the clear plastic pouches along with the key secured inside the back cover of the book. He described how he had found Salazar friends and family members that were owners of storage companies in Arizona and how he had obtained warrants to open two of the lockers. Unfortunately both had been empty.

  He looked at Chuck. “Didn’t you say y
ou met those men outside of the storage unit in Gallup?” “Yes, that’s right,” said Chuck.

  “And Lank, didn’t you say José Vega was at the storage facility in Las Vegas?”

  “Yes,” said Agent Tygard. “And I think I know where you’re going with this.”

  The four men removed all the business cards from the notebook and laid them on the table. They sorted the cards out going from West to East across the country. Detective Gore gave his theory as to how and where the money was stored.

  “If we start in Las Vegas, that storage shed must’ve held millions of dollars. Otherwise, José Vega wouldn’t have gone there. Then there are the two facilities in Arizona that we found empty, and Chuck had his encounter in Gallup with another one.”

  As they reviewed the business cards, Paul said, “The farthest east any of these storage units is located is in Memphis, Tennessee. I wonder if Nick Salazar or Mateo Mondaca had time to go that far to the east and recover their cash?”

  “With the timeline that the FBI has put together for the two men to travel from California and Florida for the meeting in the Arizona desert, neither one could’ve made the trip to Memphis, Tennessee,” Agent Tygard said.

  Returning to the notebook, the men saw there was several plastic pouches that had once held business cards. They counted that five of the pouches were empty.

  “It looks like somebody might have beat us to the punch on this,” said Paul. “But if I was a betting man, I would bet that the storage locker in Memphis is still full of cash!”

  The rest of the day, the four men pored over the notebook, looking for any clue as to who else might be involved with the drug cartels. In time they discovered some of the documentation and notes were written in Portuguese and not Spanish, Paul began to decipher the first few pages of the notebook made up of handwritten notes. The notes talked about meeting places for informants and methods for passing information to other members of the cartel.

  “There must be high-level politicians involved in this, especially considering that the new White House is made up of some of the most unethical people that have ever walked the face of the earth,” Chuck said.

  “That may be true,” said Lank, “but until there’s evidence, I don’t see how we can go any further with our own investigation.”

  The others agreed.

  Chuck tapped Paul on the shoulder. “I got an idea. Tomorrow, I’ll have Adam and Lank flown back to Albuquerque while Paul and I travel to Memphis to investigate the storage facility. What do you think?” he asked.

  The four men agreed with Chuck’s suggestion.

  “So tomorrow, Paul and I will fly commercial into Memphis, and if there’s still cash hidden there, we’ll retrieve it.”

  Again, the four men agreed on the plan.

  After a late breakfast, Agent Tygard and Detective Gore found themselves flying back to Double Eagle Airport while Paul and Chuck struggled to get comfortable on a last-minute commercial flight to Tennessee.

  As Agent Tygard and Detective Gore were flying, Detective Gore asked a remarkably simple question. “What happens if there are boxes of cash in the Memphis storage facility?”

  Agent Tygard was quiet for a moment. “My best guess is that you’ll be a millionaire!”

  “And how would we explain this sudden financial windfall?” asked Detective Gore.

  Again, Lank thought before speaking. “If it was me and they do find cash at the Memphis facility, we should split that equally between the team. Then, because at least one other person knows you received a package at your office, you go into detective mode and begin an investigation into all of these locations that we have business cards for. This way, we’ve all done our jobs, and any other recovered drug money will be turned in to the government. You’ll probably be the hero of the day.”

  After arriving at the Memphis, Tennessee, International Airport, Paul and Chuck rented a car and made their way to the storage facility. Just before they arrival at the place, they produced their handkerchiefs, which they quickly wrapped around their faces to conceal themselves. They drove directly to the kiosk holding the access keypad, and before entering the code, Chuck pulled his shirt sleeve down over his hand so that no fingerprints were left behind. The code they had entered was correct. They waited for the large gate to retract out of their way, giving them unfettered entry to the storage facility.

  As they drove into the rather small storage complex, Chuck glanced in his rearview mirror.

  “Two men just came out of the office and are walking toward us,” he said.

  “I guess that makes sense,” said Paul. “If these people are connected to the drug cartel, they would certainly know when that access code was used.”

  “I was hoping this would be a quick in-and-out job,” said Chuck. “But I guess if these guys want trouble, then they are messing with the wrong people.”

  They let out a halfhearted laugh as they pulled up to the storage unit.

  “The key fits the lock perfectly,” said Chuck, and with a quick twist of the wrist, the lock snapped open.

  Paul spotted the two men getting closer to them as they swung the door open. They saw a few boxes neatly stacked along the back wall of the unit.

  “Hey! What are you doing there?” one of the men called out.

  Chuck was inside the storage shed while Paul played dumb with the men. They were just a few steps away.

  “What’s that you asked?” said Paul.

  “You heard what the fuck I asked,” said the taller of the two men. “And I’m not going to ask you again!”

  Paul pointed into the storage shed. “I’m here picking up boxes for my boss.”

  “And who is your boss?” asked the man.

  “Not that it’s any of your business,” said Paul, “but my boss’s name is Mateo Mondaca.”

  The two men looked at each other, not quite sure what was going on. The second man reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife, yelling, “Fuck you! You don’t work for Mateo.”

  The party started. Paul grabbed the man closest to him and dragged him into the storage unit while Chuck exploded onto the man with the knife, taking it away from him and throwing him to the ground, where Paul quickly dispatched him just as he had done with the first punk. They dragged the two bodies to a corner of the storage unit.

  Chuck took the knife and cut open one of the boxes to see that it was full of neatly stacked hundred-dollar bills. For the next fifteen minutes, Chuck and Paul loaded the boxes of cash into the trunk of the rental vehicle that they soon found would not hold it all. They put the last few boxes into the back seat with their luggage.

  Once all the boxes had been removed from the storage unit, Paul wiped down everything they had touched with his handkerchief, removing any fingerprints they might have left. He also retrieved a broom from a bucket of brooms and shovels and swept the floor of the storage unit and the ground in front of the door, completely obliterating any footprints they might have left. The last things they did was lock the steel door and wipe the padlock off.

  “Well, it didn’t go as I had hoped,” said Chuck. “But it looks like we have sixteen boxes of drug money to divvy up.”

  Before leaving the storage facility, the men stopped at the main office, where Paul went inside and retrieved the videotape from the security camera. He also replaced the sign in the front window of the office with one saying that the office was now closed.

  As they drove back to the airport, they decided to stop at a packaging and freight store so that they could have the sixteen boxes repackaged into heavier containers. Both men watched very carefully as the packaging employees wrapped each of the boxes in additional heavy-duty plastic wrap, then placed those boxes into the new containers, which were insulated with one-inch sheets of Styrofoam.

  After all, sixteen of the boxes had been repackaged, one of the employees asked,
“What’s the shipping address?”

  Paul and Chuck looked at each other for a moment.

  “Four of these boxes should be shipped to your address in Washington,” Chuck said, “and the other twelve should be sent to my company address in New Mexico.”

  It didn’t take long to address the boxes, and the men made sure to pay the shipping company in cash. They drove back to the airport, returned the rental car, and made their way into the best restaurant located on the airport property.

  “I think a steak dinner is in order,” said Chuck.

  “That sounds great to me, and let’s not forget a cocktail or two before we get back on those cramped commercial airplanes.”

  The steaks looked and tasted delicious.

  “I propose a toast. Sixteen boxes divided by four patriots,” said Paul. “Share and share alike.”

  Chapter 23

  Black Strike

  The next few weeks went by in a flash for Detective Gore. He made the information from the notebook available to every law enforcement agency from the LAPD to the Washington Capital Police Department. Every storage facility identified in the notebook yielded a fortune in drug cartel money. The tally recovered so far was at $197 million, thanks in no small part to Detective Gore, and more lockers were on the list to be opened. Due to his persistence and hard work, Detective Gore was informed that he had been invited to Washington, D.C., to have dinner with the president and first lady. The head of the FBI and other security organization executives would join them.

  Carolyn and I were reading all about the famous Arizona lawman who had cracked the drug cartel’s money storage racket. From time to time, we couldn’t help but laugh and wonder just how much the notebook we had sent Detective Gore had really helped with the case. We also got a good chuckle out of the news reports, though we knew Detective Gore was very deserving of the praise from his community and the country. One article also mentioned that the FBI agent in charge of Arizona would be accompanying the detective to Washington to receive a presidential award before his retirement took place in a few weeks.