Calhoun thought the exchange was funny. This is going to be much easier than I thought.
An officer got on the radio and asked for a supervisor to respond to the airport immediately. When he finished, he told the other officers to extend professional courtesy to their guest.
Calhoun shook hands with the policemen while his son loaded their equipment into a black Yukon Denali parked next to their jet. The cops didn’t know it, but the Denali was custom-made, with bullet-resistant windows, run-flat tires, and reinforced doors. The vehicle was a luxurious tank and had been parked there the evening before by one of the people on Calhoun’s payroll after being flown in from Miami.
Twenty minutes passed, and Calhoun spotted a car barreling toward the airport.
Calhoun and his son noticed the signage on the side door as it pulled up. The local police commissioner had arrived.
A very large Bahamian man exited the right rear door. Of all the people Calhoun had seen so far with badges, this was the first who looked professional.
The large gentleman extended his hand. “Mr. Calhoun, I’m Commissioner Knowles. It’s my great pleasure to meet you. Welcome to the Bahamas. We’ve confiscated some cocaine and hope you will help us spring a trap on the people we expect to arrive to retrieve it.”
Calhoun wanted to explore just how much these people knew about his operation. He shook the commissioner’s hand firmly. These poor people have no idea.
“Do we have any information about the suspect?”
“Not really. There’s been significant speculation, but we don’t have much.”
Calhoun shook his head. “So we’re looking for a person without a lead and have no idea if or when he will try to take the cocaine you have in custody?”
The commissioner looked down. “I’m afraid so. We have the assistance of two detectives from Florida, who think the guy people here refer to as the Caller, might actually be employed by your agency.”
Calhoun raised his eyebrow and feigned shock. “With the Coast Guard? Where would that come from? It takes a set of brass balls to speculate like that.”
“To be honest, the two detectives I mentioned have been squeezing information from people here and others working with them have done the same in Miami. They are getting our people up to speed with the updates.”
Calhoun needed to meet the detectives. “Are they here now? I’d like to meet them as soon as possible. They work in Miami?”
“They’re staying at a local fishing lodge and are eager to meet you as well. With regard to Florida, I’ve been told Miami-Dade officers have interviewed people and might have some leads. They relayed information to their guys here, and it was told to me.”
Calhoun digested the new information. Even if the cops in Florida found and interviewed people who continually purchased from him, the connections would be slight. All leads were to Charles, not him.
By the time anyone figured out he was involved, he’d be gone. Tomorrow he and his son would have the cocaine and be on their way. It was almost too easy.
Commissioner Knowles called someone to locate Dix and Petersen. He told Calhoun the two detectives were on their way to the facility where the cocaine was being stored.
Calhoun went with the commissioner while his son stayed behind to make some calls and load the Denali.
* * * *
Rear Admiral Tony Charles received the call telling him Jim Calhoun made it to Andros Island without a hitch.
Charles called Jorge Blanco. “Jorge, you know where the other men are?”
“Eating dinner, and then they wanted to check out some chicks at the strip club.”
Charles was perturbed. “Just what we need, hungry, horny killers. Get them the hell out of there.”
“Yes, sir. Consider it done.” Blanco cursed the men for taking off to the club.
“Good. Remind them that they’re supposed to stay low and operate undetected. Also, Calhoun is going with you guys and is running his own operation. You and your team are in a support role.”
“Got it. I’ll go gather them. Whatever you need, we’re ready and able.”
“Excellent. Don’t fuck it up.”
Blanco shook his head. “Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Andrew Snead had never cared much for Michael Pierce. He thought Pierce rose to sergeant so quickly because he kissed a lot of ass and rode his father’s coattails. His old man had been a well-known and respected captain for Miami-Dade PD. Nevertheless, they were working the same case and needed to pool resources.
Snead dialed Pierce’s number and half hoped he wouldn’t answer.
Pierce answered on the first ring. “Sergeant Pierce. How can I help you?”
“This is Andrew Snead. How are you?”
“Pretty busy, Mr. Snead. What can I do for you?”
“I hoped to meet you to see if we could combine forces to help Dix and Petersen in the Bahamas.”
“I understand you’ve been in communication with my detectives. Dix told me what you’d discovered.”
“He told me what you and the team have come up with as well.”
“You want to meet at the Donut House in about thirty minutes?”
“I’ll be there. Thanks.” Pierce hung up.
* * * *
Snead sat at a booth eating a bear claw when he looked up to see Pierce enter. He wiped his face and hands and shook Pierce’s hand.
“Can I buy you a cup of Joe to go with that?” Pierce pointed to the pastry.
“No, thanks. The doctor’s been trying to wean me off the stuff. He says it’s messing up my stomach lining.”
Pierce went to the counter and ordered an apple fritter and a large cup of coffee, black. He slid into the booth across from Snead. They started from the beginning and pooled their information.
While wiping a spill with his napkin, Pierce said, “I’d say we’re looking for a high-ranking officer in the Coast Guard. The DEA and CIA found a mid-level dealer who’s been working with our bad guy for years.”
Snead leaned forward. “Is the guy talking?”
“No, he lawyered up. But the DA’s office has a monster case against him. They’ve been asked to strike a deal if he’s willing to identify this Caller guy.”
Snead whispered, “You heard about the possible connection to Rear Admiral Tony Charles, right?”
Pierce shook his head. “Not much. You got something more to share?”
Snead nodded. “He’s on the list I got from the Coast Guard of longtime, high-ranking personnel. The guy’s also in charge of the DOG Unit for the Coast Guard.”
“DOG Unit?” Pierce drained his cup.
“It’s a new unit with the best guys in the Coast Guard designed to compete with SEAL teams. They’re supposed to work covertly.”
“Interesting.”
“My research indicates Charles is the most computer savvy guy in the service, according to some of my MIT sources. The searches I tried for this Caller guy were protected by someone with advanced understanding of computers, networks, and the internet.”
Pierce needed more. “So you think it’s another connection between Charles and the guy Petersen and Dix think is coming for the dope?”
“Yes.” Snead glanced at Pierce’s cup. “You want a refill?”
“No, I’m good. I feel more awake now, but the apple fritter landed like a brick.”
“I did a little more digging into Charles and learned he has an expensive home and a few toys, like a cigarette boat and two exotic cars. It seems odd he could afford such extravagances on what he makes from the Coast Guard.”
Pierce replied, “Maybe it was an inheritance.”
“Maybe. I spent a little time in Liberty City last night and ran into Tyrone Holmes.”
Pierce looked shocked. “Man, is that guy still alive? I thought he’d have died or been killed by now. He was deep into the drugs fifteen, maybe sixteen years ago.”
Snead smiled. “He’s alive and hasn’t sold dope
or used for seven years. He’s got a family and a good job. His ear is still to the streets, though. He lives right in the middle of the war zone. From time to time, he gives me information in a roundabout way.”
Pierce looked confused. “Did you learn anything about our guy from him?”
“Nothing I can confirm, but he described a drug purchase he made over a decade ago. The guy may have been the drug supplier we’re looking for. Tye said he had two bodyguards, and all three of them looked muscular and had short hair. He also said one of the guys called his boss ‘Skipper.’ Turns out the term was in common use in the Coast Guard at the time Tye bought dope from the guy who could be the Caller.”
Pierce rubbed his eyes. “Everything I’ve heard points toward the Coast Guard. I didn’t want to believe someone in the military, especially someone of high rank, would be involved in smuggling drugs but it all points that direction.”
Snead twisted his napkin. “I know. It took me a while to wrap my brain around it, but my gut points to the connection. We need to watch Charles closely.”
“I hate to agree, but I’m afraid you’re right. We need to find where he is. With all the Coast Guard cutters in the Bahamas, I’d guess he’s on one of them.”
Snead leaned forward. “If Charles is in Florida, would you run surveillance on him?”
Pierce nodded. “I suppose we could do that. My guys could use the practice. The Chief told us to use whatever resources and time we need to assist in this investigation. Apparently the DEA, CIA, Coast Guard, Royal Bahamian Police Force, U.S. Navy, and possibly the FBI are involved in this one. If my guys find him, they’ll make the entire department look good.”
Snead stood up to leave and offered his hand to Pierce. “I’m going to look into a few other things. If I learn something worthwhile, I’ll let you know.” The two shook hands.
Pierce got up and said, “And I’ll do the same.”
Snead left the donut shop hoping to stir up more leads for the detectives in the Bahamas.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Dix watched as an official police vehicle stopped near where he was standing with Petersen. A large, well-built black man and a muscular white man exited.
A beat-up minivan pulled in behind them. Six local officers got out and took defensive positions covering the two occupants of the official police vehicle. The guy Dix recognized as Jim Calhoun wore fatigues. The man came ready to get dirty.
Dix, Petersen, and Roger waited while the cadre walked toward them.
Roger whispered to Dix, “The black guy is Commissioner Knowles. I assume the white guy is Jim ‘Bloodhound’ Calhoun. According to the commissioner, Calhoun is eager to meet you two.”
Dix turned. “Petersen, did you hear that? The legendary drug expert wants to meet you.”
Petersen grimaced. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Dix. I hope you’ll be on your best behavior.”
Dix couldn’t reply because Jim Calhoun stood before him with his hand outstretched.
“How the hell are you, Bill?” He looked at Petersen.
“And you must be Detective Petersen.”
Dix smiled and shook the proffered hand. “Jim, it’s been a long time. I’m doing great. Better now that you’re here.”
Petersen shook hands with Calhoun, then with Commissioner Knowles. He was surprised. Dix had never mentioned anything about knowing Jim Calhoun.
Calhoun looked at the storage unit. “Is this where the stuff is located? What do we know about it?”
Petersen nodded. “It’s over near the speedboat. The boat doesn’t function anymore, thanks to a couple careless rounds from a sniper.”
Calhoun looked puzzled. “A sniper?”
Dix nodded. “Yeah. A Special Ops sniper named M. A. Thomas.” He pointed at Roger. “Roger killed him when the guy had his weapon trained on Petersen and me. We weren’t aware of it at the time. If it hadn’t been for Roger, we’d probably be dead.”
Dix had intentionally left out the part about the interrogation. Calhoun frowned. “So now we have over a thousand kilos of cocaine stored here. You assume this Caller guy will show up looking for it because it’s worth at least a hundred million, as I understand it. Anyone know why they call him that?”
Roger shook his head. “Not really. But his only contact seems to be by phone.”
Calhoun looked at Dix. “I understand the cargo has been safeguarded by surveillance and audio feeds. I don’t see anything visible, which is good. Is there an APS involved?”
The commissioner, Roger, and Petersen looked confused, so Dix said, “He’s talking about an alternate power supply.” Roger motioned the men to follow him. “I’ll point out the system upgrades, straight from the DEA gurus.”
Calhoun interrupted. “Just tell me where everything is without pointing it out. If this guy is as advanced as you guys think, he could be watching right now. I’d feel pretty stupid if we made it easy for him. He doesn’t need any help from us.”
Roger told Calhoun and the commissioner where everything was located and mentioned the backup power supply.
Calhoun turned to the group. “What’s the game plan?” Dix answered, “We figure he’s coming after dark, possibly by helicopter. He’ll probably only take the cocaine. A chopper could land somewhere around the yard, and he will probably attempt to take out the guards, grab the dope and be gone within minutes. The stuff has to be in his possession to convict him of anything but audio and video feeds will gather information to identify this Caller guy. Our navy has several jets ready to scramble to force a plane or helicopter down. If he leaves by boat, you’ll handle that.”
Calhoun nodded his agreement. “Have you guys seen the schematics for the storage unit and the city streets around it?”
One of the local officers produced them.
Calhoun glanced at the drawings and rubbed his belly. “I’m hungry. Is there someplace we could eat and discuss this some more? I’m buying.”
The commissioner suggested a local restaurant, and they all headed there.
As the cars passed the airport, Dix, Roger, and Petersen talked about fly fishing. Petersen mentioned the huge bonefish he let get away. Roger stopped laughing and pointed out the window.
Dix turned to see what he had motioned to. “What’s up Roger?”
“Is there a small red horse on the tail of that private jet?”
Petersen’s eyes widened. “I’ll be damned. That’s the horse head we saw on the cocaine.” He turned to Roger. “When did that thing get here, and whose is it?”
Dix noticed a U.S. flag next to the red horse head. On the side of the plane were the words, “United States Coast Guard—U.S. Department of Homeland Security. “Let me guess. Calhoun arrived in that jet.”
Roger called Commissioner Knowles. When he hung up, he turned to the detectives. “The commissioner confirmed Mr. Calhoun arrived on it, just him and a pilot. Apparently no one has seen the pilot since it landed.”
Dix frowned. “We’ll certainly have something to talk about at lunch, won’t we?”
Petersen looked at his partner. “Just how do you intend to question a living legend about arriving in an expensive plane with the same horse head on it as on the cocaine?”
Dix got a broad smile. “Watch and learn, my friend.
Watch and learn.”
* * * *
Wilfred and Bubba cleaned their weapons and got their gear ready. Wilfred asked, “You think the Caller will show up?”
Bubba nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you think Dix and Petersen will catch him?” “I think so. They seem pretty sharp. Why?”
Wilfred looked at his brother. “The asshole’s been up to no good for so long, it seems a little farfetched he’d get caught so easily. We’ve done as much as we can to identify the guy. I say we just post ourselves near the storage unit and wait until someone tries to steal the cocaine.”
Bubba agreed.
Wilfred said, “I know we told Dix we’d stay out of the way, but I w
ant to take the guy out myself. We know just as much as they do, and we should be in on the action. I know we’re not cops, but we shouldn’t have to sit on the sidelines.”
Bubba looked up and smiled. “I’m with you.”
“So what do we do?”
“Sit and wait.” Bubba chambered a round in his sidearm.
Wilfred thought out loud. “They believe the Caller’s coming in a day or two. I think he’s been in on the investigation since it started, and I bet he’ll try to take the stuff tonight.”
“Why’s dat?”
Wilfred continued. “The longer he waits, the more resources will be deployed against him. Striking quickly would make it easier to grab the load and get out.”
Bubba rubbed his chin. “You think he’ll come by plane, car, or helicopter? What?”
“We can probably rule out planes and helicopters. They’re too big and can easily be tracked. The guy’ll show up with some serious heat, storm the storage unit with a large van or SUV, load up, and drive away. The only questions left are where would he go after that, and how he would get his haul off the island undetected?”
Bubba shrugged.
They loaded their gear into their rundown hatchback. Books, magazines, a small handheld police scanner, and whatever else they could think of might help pass the time. Then they headed to the storage unit.
As they drove past the airport to check out the jet the Coast Guard honcho was supposed to have arrived in, they saw the plane and the horse head and decided to stick around. They watched through binoculars as a white guy unloaded what appeared to be weapons into the back of a Yukon Denali. They found it odd because a second Yukon Denali was parked near the first one, but the man wasn’t doing anything with it. They had never seen the man, the jet, or the SUV before.
After each movement, the guy looked around. Wilfred thought he saw small round objects across the man’s chest.
He turned to Bubba. “Look through these binoculars.
You think those are grenades on his chest?”
Bubba took the binoculars, stared, and sighed. “Maybe.”
Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) Page 13
