Pierce found this very odd. Calhoun never took time off, except once to attend his daughter’s funeral. That must have been about fifteen or twenty years ago.
On to Plan B. Trouble was, he didn’t have a Plan B. He wasn’t able to help Dix or Petersen. He felt useless. Come on, man, get your shit together and make something happen.
Pierce climbed into his unmarked undercover vehicle and drove toward downtown Miami, hoping to find a local dealer to hit up for information about large local suppliers.
It took him about twenty minutes to find a guy he classified as a mid-level dealer. Pierce had busted him before and this guy liked to talk in an effort to keep from going to jail.
Pierce watched the man from afar and determined he was selling narcotics again. He called dispatch and asked for backup. Then he turned on his dash cam. Once it was obvious the guy was dealing, Pierce decided to take him down.
He surprised the suspect right in the middle of a transaction and was out of the car and had the guy in handcuffs before he had any clue Pierce was there.
As Pierce was about to advise dispatch of his location and status, an unmarked Ford Crown Victoria screeched to a halt behind him. All four doors opened and members of his team sprang out and chased the customer who’d just made the purchase away.
The man immediately pointed to the dealer in the back of Pierce’s car. “I just bought from him. He’s been selling for years down here.”
Pierce looked at the dealer and smiled. “Boys, take that guy to the precinct. I’ll take this one in myself.”
The dealer looked nervous and was sweating profusely.
This is going to be fun, thought Pierce.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Snead clicked the Google shortcut on his desktop and waited a few seconds as the browser loaded on his screen. In the search bar, he typed: Coast Guard, U.S. Navy, Skipper and hit enter.
Two hundred sixty-one thousand web pages contained these words popped up. Snead was not happy. He sifted through several of the top sites and learned the term skipper was mostly used when addressing the captain of a ship. It was not commonly used today.
It appeared in Coast Guard jargon because not all cutters had a captain. So the men began calling the person in charge a skipper. It seemed to be another connection to the Coast Guard. Tyrone Holmes had heard it almost fifteen years earlier, so it was even more likely the men who used the term were Coast Guard seamen.
Snead now searched to see who might have been in charge of Coast Guard cutters fifteen years before. He’d then try to eliminate names from the list he got from the MIT guys of who had access to the computer where the online transaction for the registration of the speedboat originated. It was a daunting task. Snead shook his head in disgust.
The only name he didn’t have to check was Jim Calhoun.
He’d crossed off the name as soon as he received the faxed list. There’s no way the guy could be involved in this crap.
One item that popped up was a number to contact the Coast Guard for general questions. After being re-directed for five minutes, he finally spoke to a live person. He asked for a list of previous captains or skippers of cutters. The secretary said she’d never heard the term skipper before and asked what a cutter was.
Snead rolled his eyes, glad that she couldn’t see him. “How about this? Are Coast Guard records archived on a database accessible via the internet?”
She paused a second. “I’m afraid I don’t know the answer. You see, I’ve only been here for a few days.”
“May I speak to your supervisor?”
The woman paused. “Well, she’s not here right now.” Snead persisted.
“When will she be back?”
“I don’t know. She’s been gone awhile. Wait a second. I hear her coming.”
Snead perked up. “Excellent. I’d like to talk to her.”
“Sure. Please hold.”
“How may I help you?” The woman sounded a bit out of breath.
Snead tried to be charming. “My name is Sergeant Andrew Snead from the Miami-Dade Police Department. I’m sorry to bother you. I have a few questions.”
“What kind of information are you looking for? Our systems aren’t as modernized as some agencies. However, we may be able to help depending on what you need.”
Snead hoped this would work. “I’m looking for a list of all captains and skippers of Coast Guard cutters over the past twenty years.”
The woman whistled. “If we’re talking that far back, there is a record, but it’s not automated, at least not yet.”
Snead scowled. “Are the records in a vault or in storage?”
“They’re in a storage unit in Virginia. The last time I checked, Florida was a long way from Virginia.”
Snead chuckled. “Okay, thanks. May I ask another question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“If I email you a list of names, can you identify the people who are no longer with the Coast Guard?”
“I guess. Can you tell me what this is all about, or is it classified?”
Snead laughed out loud. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”
She laughed. “You’d better bring an army. I like guns and know how to use them.”
Snead wrote down her email address. She said she could get to the list after lunch. That gave him time to surf the internet some more and get a bite to eat.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jorge Blanco, John Lester, Tim Simpson, Paul Kemp, and David Timms studied an ops plan from a top-level clearance mission recently assigned to their unit. They’d been hand-picked by Rear Admiral Tony Charles and led by Blanco.
As missions went, this appeared to be fairly mundane. They had to infiltrate a storage unit currently being guarded by the Royal Bahamian Police Force. Several informants used by the Coast Guard revealed a handful of local officers were helping someone plan to steal the narcotics inside. Blanco’s team would safeguard the cocaine. But they could not advise the local police commissioner for fear the mission would be compromised. Once secured, the narcotics would stay on a cutter, heavily guarded, until the investigation was concluded. The cutter would remain off the coast of Andros Island. I wonder why they just don’t ask the locals to hold the drugs in a safer location, thought Blanco.
The area containing the cocaine was bugged and surrounded by cameras, but the locals would present the biggest challenge. Blanco figured they could easily disable the surveillance equipment and take out a few corrupt cops. The problem was they had to do it all and not be detected.
They could not be caught or identified. If it happened, they’d be left to fend for themselves, and all record of their association with the Coast Guard or the United States military would be eliminated. This elite team was told any equipment available to the Coast Guard and U.S. Navy would be available to them. The ultimate objective was to seize the cocaine, which would be used later in an independent investigation by DEA, CIA, and Coast Guard.
Jorge Blanco had the most experience and was, therefore, the leader of the unit. The other men had worked with him in Afghanistan and Syria. They had experimental training on a regular basis, taking them to all corners of the earth.
Blanco stood. “You shitheads think you can pull this off without screwing it up?”
Simpson muttered, “Get bent. If anyone’s going to jack this up, it’d be you.”
The other men laughed. Then Kemp asked, “You think this is a setup?”
Blanco answered, “Relax. I’m sure this is another training mission. The serious shit you signed up for will come soon enough.”
Timms asked, “When are we supposed to start the festivities?”
Blanco glanced at his watch. “We leave at zero six hundred in three days. We’re on standby status until then, meaning the big bosses could send us earlier. Keep your cell phones on and handy so I can update you if needed. When I get the call, I’ll contact you.”
One by one the men got up from their seats, grabbed their duffel b
ags and other gear, and left the briefing room. Blanco stayed behind to develop a game plan and contact Jim Calhoun. Sooner or later they’re going to have to give us a real mission. These training ones are getting old.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
As Dix and Petersen left the bar, they spotted Roger’s car and waved him over.
“Give us a lift?” Dix asked. “Sure. Hop in.”
Roger looked them over. “You guys look beat. When did you sleep last?”
Petersen settled into the back seat and laid his head against it. “Feels like at least a year.” He closed his eyes.
Roger started the car. “While you’ve been drinking at the local hot spot, I went by the storage facility. DEA agents working with the locals outfitted the place with surveillance equipment. When I told the DEA boys I’d see you, they said to tell you there’s a small container close to my house. It’s filled with all the equipment you might need. And I have your firearms and body armor.”
Dix frowned. “Why would DEA agents give all this information to you?”
Roger squirmed. “Well, there’s more to all of this, but I can’t let you in on it until the timing’s right.”
Dix all but shouted. “Fuck this. When I wake up tomorrow, my bags are packed, and you guys can deal with this mess. We gave up our vacation to help out. Shit, we’ve done most of this stuff on our own despite the local authorities. As far as I’m concerned, you can stop the damn car right here, and I’ll walk back to the lodge.”
Petersen roused. “I’m with Dix. We’re not the bad guys here, and we need answers.”
Roger looked nervous but apologetic. “Look, I know it wasn’t right. The DEA agents have used you two but kept what they knew hidden. I’ll tell you everything.”
“What do you mean used us? What do you have?” Dix asked.
“Five or six local officers have been dealing or stealing drugs. DEA and the local higher-ups asked me to help identify them. That’s why I know a few of their people.”
Dix frowned again. “You could have told us. The secrets on this island are pissing me off.”
Roger shook his head. “No. I was ordered not to.”
“Anything else?”
Roger nodded. “Yes. My DEA contacts have been monitoring a Coast Guard rear admiral named Charles for about a year. He seems to be connected to the bad cops in some way. A few DEA agents vacationed in the Bahamas and set up surveillance on Andros, Exuma, and a few other islands. When the speedboat was stored yesterday, a .50 caliber 12.7 mm BMG round was found splintered near the engine block. According to DEA, the Coast Guard is the largest user of the rifle that shoots those. They also figure it would take a special unit to hijack the speedboat. The rear admiral, this Charles guy, is in charge of those units. DEA calls them rogue units.”
Dix considered what Roger had told him and the clues they’d been collecting. He was already pretty sure the Caller had ties to the Coast Guard; this almost sealed it for him.
They pulled up to the lodge. Dix knew he had to get sleep before his system completely crashed.
The detectives slowly stumbled out of the car. Dix patted Roger on the shoulder, and they headed to their cottage. Dix looked back over his shoulder. “Wake us if anything significant develops. Petersen and I are going to hit the hay for a few hours. And no more secrets, please.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
As the G5 jet reached cruising altitude, Calhoun began getting updates from his sources in the Coast Guard, Royal Navy, and the Royal Bahamian Police Force.
His secure line rang. “Go ahead.”
He recognized Jorge Blanco’s voice. “Sir, the unit is briefed and has developed an operational model. We’re packed and racked for deployment. Still awaiting word from Charles to deploy.”
“Very good. I’m not entirely sure if you boys will see action, but I’m glad to know you’re ready. This mission is intended for stealth, and not firepower and fireworks.”
“Understood. The men are on standby when needed.”
“Fantastic. I’ll notify Charles.” He hung up.
The phone rang again. “Go ahead.”
An adult male voice spoke. “We’ve got an issue, sir. Footage from the UAV of raising the speedboat showed two unknown white male adults in the mix. We checked and found out these guys are narcotics detectives from Miami-Dade. One is a newbie, Steve Petersen. The other is Bill Dix.”
“The same Bill Dix from Miami-Dade PD who’s been in the paper?” Calhoun had read about a couple of his cases.
“Affirmative.”
“Okay, what else do you know?”
“It seems everyone from DEA to the locals on Andros is hunting a guy named the Caller. They think he’s a major drug distributor.”
Calhoun raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Two Royal Bahamian Police Force officers we’ve used in the past have gone missing. We heard rumors they were picked up by DEA.”
God damn it. Could anything else go wrong?
“Oh, and investigators retrieved a splintered 12.7 mm round from the speedboat. They’ve already assumed it was a Coast Guard issue.”
Calhoun shook his head. “The next time I ask for an update, just tell me to remember what happened this time.”
The man on the other end chuckled. Then he suddenly became quiet. Calhoun noticed the stillness. “What’s up?”
No answer.
Calhoun reacted quickly. “Get rid of the cell phone and leave your location now.”
Across the line, he heard loud knocking followed by, “Search warrant. This is the police. Open up.”
Calhoun had hung up before he heard the outcome. His contact was a mid-level drug dealer and pimp who had DEA and Coast Guard connections because two of his sisters had married men in those agencies. This guy had met Calhoun, and it was probably only a matter of time before he’d cave to interrogation. But, Calhoun wasn’t sure they could get the information and process it before he retrieved the cocaine from the speedboat. The operation would take two days, and Calhoun hoped the authorities wouldn’t be able to find a link to him by then. He determined the man would give them false information to cover Calhoun’s tracks.
However, he moved up the plans to attack the storage unit to the following day just to be sure. He filled his son in on the changes over his Bluetooth as Junior piloted the G5 jet to Andros.
Calhoun finished with, “You see any problems stepping up the retrieval to tomorrow night instead of the next day?”
His son shook his head. “No.”
“Son, I’ve thought about our last conversation. I’m considering retiring and letting you keep the business.” It was a lie, but he wanted the kid focused on the current operation.
“I’m glad. I won’t let you down. Fasten your seat belt. We’re on final approach to Mangrove Cay. According to the contacts on the island, there are lots of local cops in the area. More than usual, and even some added surveillance equipment, too.”
Calhoun checked his seat belt and prepared for landing. The changes seemed normal based on what should be done when an agency finds an enormous stash of cocaine. “Continue as planned, son.”
The plane landed smoothly and taxied to the end of the runway. When the door opened, Calhoun and his pilot were met by eight Royal Bahamian officers. Calhoun noticed the fully armed men appeared unfriendly. Play it cool.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Pierce questioned his arrestee on the way to the precinct. The guy was looking at a minimum of three felonies based on Pierce’s observations. He’d consider lessening some of the charges if the guy talked, and he had hoped the man’s information would be useful for the case in the Bahamas.
Before they reached the precinct, Pierce pulled over and turned to face the guy in the back seat. “Listen, Chad, you and I have been playing the same game for ten years. Sometimes I cut you a break, but tonight I’m gonna put you away for the rest of your life.”
Chad was breathing heavily. “Okay
, okay. No bullshit. What’s it going to take for some of this stuff to go bye-bye?”
“You can start by telling me who the big guy is.”
Chad shook his head. “Come on, man. I’m dead if I say anything.”
Pierce smirked. “You already have by telling me the supplier is male. Cut the crap, Chad, or I’ll see to it you qualify for a life sentence.”
Chad was squirmy and nervous. “Dude, calm down. All right. Listen, why the questions about the supplier? You usually target dealers.”
Pierce snapped back. “I’m asking the questions, pal. You’ve got until we reach the station to tell me something useful. Otherwise, no deals.” He started the car and pulled out onto the street.
Chad hesitated. “Look. There’s one guy who only deals cocaine. He’s been in the business as long as you’ve been a cop. I met him for a big transaction. I had a chunk of cash, thirty large, and he had kilos for sale.”
“When did you meet this guy? And what do you remember about it?”
“About ten years ago. Remember when you caught me the first time? I bought the stuff from him.”
“What do you remember about the guy?”
Chad seemed to gain momentum. “There were three guys. Two just watched the main guy’s back. They looked like badasses, buff with short haircuts. They had some serious weapons too, MP-5s, I think. I showed them the money, and the big man showed me the coke. He sold me a full brick for only thirty thousand.”
Pierce was skeptical. “Why do you remember all that? It was ten years ago, and you’ve sniffed a lot of junk since then.” He watched Chad stiffen in his mirror.
Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) Page 11
