Fallen Hunter (Jesse McDermitt Series)

by Wayne Stinnett

  “You're a damn fed?” he asked. “So, why you telling me this now? Can't you just bust him for the pickup you made?”

  “It's complicated, Carl,” I said. “He's involved in arms smuggling, too. He's trading weapons for grass to a terrorist organization in Cuba. If he got picked up for trafficking drugs, he would barely see the inside of the booking office and be right back on the streets. If we get him on terrorism, he goes to Gitmo, no lawyer, no right to remain silent, nothing. He's just gone.”

  “Okay, I follow that. But, why are you telling me? I'm just a shrimper.”

  “The Deputy Director and one of his team leaders will be here in a few hours. The team leader is a good friend of mine. The Director wants to talk to both of us. I'm really just kind of a subcontractor. I move men and equipment on the Revenge, disguised as anglers.”

  “They're coming here?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “We can tell the women they're a prospective charter.”

  “I don't like that, Jesse. Charlie and I have an honest relationship. I learned from lying to a woman I was involved with, with my first wife. I don't hide anything from Char.”

  I looked back up the dock toward shore. I could see Tina between the two shacks, throwing a stick for Pescador. Suddenly, I felt very cheap. I didn't want to lie to her, any more than Trent wanted to lie to his wife.

  “You don't like it either, do you?” he said. “I know about you, Jesse. You're a straight shooter. That gal is, too from what I seen. If you screw things up in the beginning, she'll bolt. I can guarantee that.”

  “So,” I said. “The other option is to tell them.”

  “That'd be my choice,” he said.

  “Let's go,” I said as I started walking back up the dock. Tina saw us coming and smiled. She ran out to meet us at the end of the dock.

  “You're dog's too cool,” she said. “He'll do almost anything I tell him. It's like he understands what I'm saying.”

  “Really?” I said. “He's never paid attention to any woman.”

  “It's true,” said Trent. “He totally ignores Charlie.”

  “We need to talk, Tina,” I said. “All four of us.”

  We walked over to the table Trent had built and I complimented him on his craftsmanship. “Think you could build three more just like it,” I asked.

  “Why do you need four tables?” Tina asked as the four of us sat down. “Or for that matter, two guest houses, that have twelve beds each?”

  “That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about,” I said. I went on to tell her and Charlie the whole story. How I worked as a part time contractor for the government. How Santiago was dealing arms to terrorists and how we were going to stop him and end his threats against everyone in the Keys. How, in less than two hours, a chopper was going to land in the middle of the clearing and a big-shot DHS agent was going to talk to all four of us. When I was done, I just sat there.

  “So, all this time, you've been working for the government?” Tina asked. “When you took me out to Fort Jefferson, what were you doing, scouting?”

  “No,” Trent said. “He came to Key West to help us, Tina. It wasn't until later that he found out that Santiago was running guns.”

  She looked from Trent to me and said, “Is that true? Why are you telling us?”

  Charlie hadn't said anything since we sat down. She leaned forward and smiled at me. Then she smiled at her husband and turned to Tina. “Carl and I don't hide anything from one another. I suspect that little pow wow out on the dock was to make up some kind of lie about what those men arriving in the chopper were here for. A good relationship must be built on honesty from the start, or it'll never grow.”

  “I swear, Jesse,” Trent said, “That woman can read my mind. It'd just be a waste of time to try to pull anything over on her.”

  “So, you were going to lie to me?” Tina said.

  Trent looked at her and said, “I could see that it was tearing him up to do it, Tina. These islands are small and people that have never met, know about everyone else. Before I ever met Jesse, I knew him to be an honorable man.”

  “Well, aren't you gonna say anything?” she asked.

  “I told you now,” I said, “Because I don't want to hide anything from you. Why that's important to me, I don't fully understand because I've only known you a few days. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you anything before. But, now it seems important to me to tell you.”

  “Okay,” she said. “So who are these two guys?”

  “Smith is the Associate Deputy Director of the Department of Homeland Security's Caribbean Command. Deuce is the son of my old Platoon Sergeant, back when I first started in Marine Recon. He's a former Lieutenant Commander in the Navy SEAL's and has become a very good friend. Now, he's the team leader of the counter terrorism interdiction team. I’ve only met five others on his team, only two by name. The whole team consists of about thirty people, half of which are hardcore door kickers, like I used to be. My job, as a part time contractor, is to move members of the team and their equipment to where they’re needed in the Caribbean Basin. I built those two bunkhouses for them to come here and train. That’s also why I need three more tables.”

  “I've seen you in action, Jesse,” Tina said smiling. “You're still a 'hardcore door kicker', yourself.”

  “That seems to bring us full circle,” Trent said. “Who wants a beer?” He got up from the table and went into the western bunkhouse and came back out with a cooler. Opening it, he passed around four icy Bahamian Kaliks.

  “Doesn't anyone on these islands drink Budweiser?” Tina asked laughing. “I can always tell a local by the beer he orders.”

  We talked a little more about what was coming up, then I showed Tina around the rest of the island. We were out on the dock, when she turned and said, “Charlie told me you built all this yourself, even the channel. Is that true?”

  “Not everything,” I said. “I had this dock built in Flamingo and barged down, along with the lumber for the bunkhouses.”

  “I think you missed your true calling,” she said.

  “No,” I said. “I enjoy building things. Probably wouldn't enjoy it half as much if it was how I earned a living.”

  We were on the end of the dock and I was leaning against the railing. She stepped toward me and I took her in my arms and held her close. It was hard not to mentally compare her to my late wife. They didn't have much of anything in common. Where Tina was petite and curvy, Alex had been slim, and nearly a foot taller. Alex was blonde, with clear, pale blue eyes that showed her every emotion. Tina's hair was as dark as the deepest ocean trench and her eyes so dark they were nearly black and sultry with promise. Alex was outgoing, where Tina was somewhat demure. Both were athletic, as I'd learned that morning. I suddenly realized that if things had been reversed, I would have wanted Alex to move on, enjoy life and find someone to enjoy it with. I looked down at Tina. Her lips parted and we kissed slowly, clinging to one another as if lost at sea. She melted further into my arms and kissed me passionately.

  That's when I heard the far off thumping of a chopper slowing down. Looking off to the northeast I mumbled, “Great timing, Deuce. C'mon, we better get to the clearing.”

  We ran down the pier and found Trent and Charlie still sitting at the table, the kids playing in the middle of the clearing with Pescador. I whistled sharply and Pescador came running. I turned to Trent and said, “Chopper's incoming. Be here in three or four minutes.”

  Charlie got up and called to the kids. She told them to stand over by the bunkhouse because a helicopter was about to land in the clearing. I looked up at the flag pole and noted that the wind was coming out of the south. The pilot would fly over and see the flag and turn and come back in from over the house. The beating of the blades got louder, then the pitch changed as he pulled the nose up to bleed off speed. Then it roared over from the north, about two hundred feet up. It continued in a sweeping turn away to the southwest.

  “He's not landing?” asked Tina.
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  “Just turning around to make his approach into the wind,” I said as the bird banked around the house, then came in slower. I stepped away from the group and spread my arms wide, then moved my forearms up and back out to the side, signaling him forward. When he was nearly over the center, I stopped, keeping both arms fully extended to the sides and he came to a hover. I then moved my arms downward and he began descending. When he made contact with the ground, I brought my arms all the way down and crossed them, then signaled him to cut the engine.

  As the engine shut down and the rotors began to slow, the front right door and both back doors opened. Smith and Deuce climbed out, along with a woman I recognized from the video she'd sent me. It was the tech guru, Chyrel Koshinski and she was carrying a case of some kind. The three of them bent over and trotted over to where we were standing.

  Pescador was standing next to me on full alert, the scraggly hair on his neck and back standing up and I said, “They're friends, Pescador.”

  Smith reached out his hand and said, “Captain McDermitt, I assume?”

  I took his hand and said, “Can it Smith.” Turning to those behind me I said, “This is Associate Deputy Director Jason Smith. The big guy is my friend Deuce Livingston and the young lady is DHS technician Chyrel Koshinski.”

  Turning back to Smith I said, “These are my friends, Carl and Charlie Trent and Monroe County Deputy Christina La Mons. Welcome to my island, Smith. Good to see you again, Deuce. Pleased to finally meet you Ms. Koshinski. Let's sit down.”

  We sat down at the new table, the four of us on one side and the three of them on the other. Charlie told the kids to go inside and play a game.

  Smith didn't look very happy. I grinned at him and said, “Like I said, my boat, my island, and my rules. I don't lie to people that are important to me. I was told by a very wise man that was the best rule.”

  Smith looked over at Deuce, who nodded openly. Then Smith said, “Captain, it's most unprofessional to divulge national security information to civilians.”

  “I'm a civilian, Smith,” I said. “Have been for nearly seven years. On the boat, it's Captain, or just Skipper. Ashore, I'm Jesse, or just McDermitt. For twenty years before, I survived because I'm a damn good judge of people. These are my friends, they're to be trusted. They're up to speed on everything I know. Which I might add, is more than you know. Now, what's on your mind?”

  “Very well, McDermitt,” he said. “Ms. Koshinski has a few things to show you, while I talk with Mr. and Mrs. Trent.”

  He stood up and said, “Mr. Trent, I'd like you to tell me everything you know about Carlos Santiago, while your friends talk about some technical stuff.”

  The three of them walked over to the western bunkhouse and went inside. I could see them sit down at the desk inside.

  “Are you out of your mind, Jesse?” Deuce said. “He's the third most powerful man at Homeland. He has the ear of the President, for crying out loud.”

  “I don't like him,” I said. “And I don't care if he's got the Presidents balls, Deuce.”

  “Geez, man, you're such an asshole sometimes,” he said. Then he smiled and added, “No wonder my old man liked you.”

  “Jesse, please just call me Chyrel.” She reached across and shook hands with Tina and said, “Pleased to meet you, Deputy.”

  “Just Tina,” she said.

  “I'm sorry Deuce, but ever since I saw that guy on my boat, without permission, I couldn't stand his smarmy ass. Probably never gonna change.”

  “Yeah, I warned him about that when he asked,” Deuce said. Then he reached across and took Tina's hand and said, “Any friend of Jesse's is someone I'd take a bullet for. Real nice to meet you, Tina.”

  Chyrel opened the case, took out a file and opened it, laying three pictures on the table. They were overhead shots of a small camp on a bay. “These were taken at one month intervals, the most recent at noon today,” she said. “This is the village of La Fe.”

  “Faith,” I said. “Probably an old Spanish mission.”

  “Yes,” she said. “It's on Guadiana Bay, on the western tip of Cuba. It's only a little further from Cancun, Mexico, than it is from Havana. As you can see, there's a small camp that's been set up recently just outside the village to the south. CIA intelligence assets tell us it's a Hezbollah training camp, there with Castro's blessings.”

  “Damn,” I said. “How's Santiago tied to Castro? Any connection?”

  “None that our assets have found,” she said. “Santiago's a mid-level player, son of a Marielista. His father was convicted of several torture murders, before Castro put him on one of the boats during the boat lift in 1980. Santiago's mother was a Havana prostitute. Both are dead. Santiago's suspected of rape, torture, and murder in several fishing villages in western Cuba. But, he's still allowed to come and go with impunity because he bribes the local magistrates.”

  “He's a real dangerous man, Jesse,” Deuce said. “See this boat, anchored just off the beach, near the camp? It's that Winter, you had us pick up. Assets in the area confirmed it, by both the name on the stern, El Cazador, and the description of the two men on it who match the guys we have in custody.”

  “The Hunter,” I said. “Fitting name.”

  “We want to infiltrate this area,” he said pointing to a spot about a mile south of the camp. “A two man team, to get more intel on the weaponry they have and what's coming in. Tony and Art volunteered. We need you to take them on a 'fishing trip' to Cancun, then drop them two miles offshore on the return. Can you do it?”

  I thought it over and said, “Yeah, I'll have to take at least a hundred extra gallons of fuel. That's 475 miles, my range is 350.”

  “How about a heavy duty, collapsible bladder, like they use in the desert? You could put it in one of the fish boxes.”

  “Each fish box can hold 150 gallons. Make it two bladders,” I said. “That 350 mile range is at cruising speed. If I have to do any fast running, I'll need the extra fuel. When do you want to do this?”

  Deuce grinned and said, “The two bladders are already requisitioned. Tony and Art can be ready on a moment’s notice.”

  “Let's shoot for Monday,” I said. “I need to talk to Santiago about his job offer.”

  “Job offer?” Tina said.

  “He wants to hire me to run his dope into Key West,” I said. “I told him I'd think it over and get back to him by tomorrow evening. We're hoping that he'll also offer me the job of moving the guns down there.”

  “Is it dangerous?” she asked.

  Deuce grinned and said, “For Santiago, maybe.” Then to me he said, “Tony and Art will be self-sustainable for five days, so we'll have to pick them up either before you make the first dope run or during the first run.”

  “That won't work,” I said. “Santiago wants to sit on his shipment all the way back from Cuba and I’m betting he has someone ride down with me to pick it up.”

  “Damn,” Deuce said. “I was afraid of that. We'll have to exfiltrate them once they get the intel and before that dope run.”

  “Why not drop them on the way to Cancun and pick them up on the way back?” I asked.

  “Santiago might have eyes on you,” he said. “The ruse of them being charter fishermen only works if they go fishing in and around Cancun. A single man going down there invites scrutiny.”

  “Why not a different ruse, then,” I said. “Two couples spending a few days diving in sunny Cozumel?”

  Deuce grinned again. “Yeah, I like that. Tony and Art could stay below decks and drop over the side after dark. An overnight trip down there and an overnight trip back.”

  We both looked at Tina. “Think Nikki would cover your shift for a few days next week?” I asked.

  “Me?” she said. “Go to Cozumel? No way. I can't afford to take that much time off work.”

  “It's a paid gig, Tina,” Deuce said. “Jesse gets ten thousand dollars. Up to him how he wants to split it. We can contact the Sheriff and have you temporarily assi
gned to DHS, undercover.”

  “Holy crap,” she said. “You can do that? You want to pay me to go to Cozumel with a tall, handsome boat Captain and the two of you?”

  “No, not me,” Chyrel said laughing. “The team would fall apart without me on my computers. And yes, I can have the temporary assignment done in less than an hour. What are your primary duties with the Sheriff’s Office?”

  “Mostly vice,” she said. “Who’s the other woman going?”

  “I have a certain bar wench in mind,” Deuce said.

  “Tina’s a LEO,” I said. “You think it’s wise to bring Julie?”

  “Yeah,” Deuce said. “She was really torn up after what happened. Guess she must have felt somewhat responsible. Plus, she wanted to be closer to what I do, so she joined the Coast Guard Reserves. She just graduated basic last week. Chyrel will have her TAD with us, too.”

  “Really? Julie a Coastie?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Surprised the hell out of me too. She didn’t want to tell you until she finished her MOS training. Get this, she’s going to Camp Lejeune for anti-terrorism training.”

  Julie in the Coast Guard? That took me aback a little. Not that she couldn’t handle the training. She was every bit as tough as her old man, maybe more so. But, she’d never been very fond of the Coast Guard and was pretty vocal about it on more than one occasion.

  “Anti-terrorism?” I said. “I know they had a port security training facility there. It’d just opened before I retired.”

  “It’s been upgraded and enlarged for their new anti-terrorism unit. She’ll report there in April and once she graduates, she’ll be tapped for duty with us. Two of our team came from Coast Guard port security and they’ll go up for further training with her.”

  Tina looked from Deuce to me, puzzled. “You’ll meet Julie tomorrow,” I said.

  She didn’t have to think about it long. “Okay,” she said, “I’m in. I’m sure Nikki will take my shifts, I’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “Do you have a passport?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied. “I went to Australia five years ago to watch the Olympics. I had friends on the swim team.”