by Bill Myers
“According to Buck, Darrell expects to meet you in the morning to trade the pot for the dog. That would be an ideal time for us to pick him up. Right after you give him the package.”
I shook my head. “Won't work. We don't have any pot to give him. Polly dumped it all.”
Harris smiled. “That won't be a problem. We can supply the pot. We can create a package that looks exactly like the one in the photo. It'll be what he's expecting. You give him the package, and he gives you the dog.
“After the exchange, we'll pick him up, and you and Buck are free to go. But it could be dangerous, so we can't force you to cooperate.
“It's up to you. Either stay here until we find Darrell and hope your dog is safe. Or you take the call in the morning and go ahead with the exchange as planned. Your choice.”
Harris sat back in his chair, waiting my decision.
“What about Eddie? What happens to him?”
“Eddie? Which one is Eddie?”
“He's one of the guys from the Pandora house. He helped us after the explosion. Led us to Darrell's van.”
“Oh. That Eddie. He's relatively harmless. Nothing's going to happen to him.”
I was relieved. “That's good to know.”
Harris was still waiting for my decision.
I wanted to get Oscar back, and I definitely didn't want to hang around Homeland Security in what amounted to house arrest until they picked up Darrell.
So it was an easy decision.
“I'll do the exchange. But only if you promise we'll get the dog back unharmed. And if you keep Polly, Buck and Eddie out of this.”
Harris smiled. “I was hoping you'd say that.”
He stood, shook my hand and said, “Follow me.”
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
When we walked back into the main operations room, Buck was sitting on a couch surrounded by three agents who were listening to his stories.
When the agents saw Harris, they moved away from Buck and went back to their work stations. Buck saw me and nodded. “You hungry? We got pizza.”
There were three slices of pizza in a box on the table in front of the couch, reminding me that it'd been a long time since I'd eaten.
So yes, I was hungry. Enough so that I grabbed a slice of pizza and took a bite. It was cold and limp, but still good. I finished the first slice, and grabbed another.
While I was eating, Harris walked over to one of his men and spoke with him in a hushed voice. After their short conversation, both came over to me.
“Walker, don't take this the wrong way, but you look like a refugee from a bomb factory. You've got soot on your face, your clothes are singed, and you've got grass stains and mud on your back.
“If you show up looking like that tomorrow, Darrell will be suspicious.
“So Agent Jones here is going to escort you back to your place where you can shower and change clothes. Then he'll bring you back here and we'll wait for Darrell to call.”
I smiled. “A shower sounds good. Let's go.”
Buck stood to join us, but Harris stopped him. “Buck's staying here. He can call Polly and let her know everything is okay. But he stays here until after you meet with Darrell tomorrow.”
I nodded at Buck. “You okay with that?”
“Yeah. These guys seem to be all right. I don't mind hanging around.”
When we got outside, Agent Jones tossed me the keys to my Jeep. “You drive. Don't do anything stupid.”
I slid into the driver's seat, got the Jeep started, and headed back to Serenity Cove. Jones was in the passenger seat, arms crossed, eyes on the road, not saying anything.
“So why is Homeland Security involved in this?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No idea. We just do what we're told. And you should stop asking questions. The less you know about these things, the better.”
He was probably right. It wouldn't do me any good to know why Homeland Security was involved in this. The best I could hope for was to get Oscar back and forget all about Darrell, Agent Harris and Homeland Security.
When we arrived back at my motorhome, it was just as I had left it. The lights were out, no cars in the driveway, nothing strange had happened.
It was the same with Polly's trailer. No cars in her driveway and it didn't look like she'd had any visitors since we'd left.
When I went inside, Bob met me at the door. I bent over and gave him a pet, and he replied with a loud “Meeeeoww.”
I knew from the extra emphasis he placed on the 'me' in 'meeeoww', that he wasn't happy. Either his litter box was full or his food bowl was empty.
Either way, he wanted me to take immediate action. That's the way cats are. They are never in a hurry to do anything for you, but they expect you to be in a hurry for them.
Bob was still expressing his displeasure when Agent Jones followed me inside. This unexpected visitor startled him. He wasn't sure whether he should defend me or hide.
He made the easy choice. He ran and hid under the bed.
When I reached for the switch to turn on the overhead lights, Jones stopped me.
“No lights. Might make the neighbors suspicious.”
He sat down in the chair that Bob had just vacated. “Is this the only door? Any other way to get in or out.”
“No, this is it.”
“Good, I'll sit here while you shower and change clothes. You've got ten minutes.”
I went back to my bedroom and picked out a clean shirt and a pair of cargo shorts – my normal Florida attire. Then I went into the bathroom and took a quick shower and changed into the clean clothes.
My old clothes smelled like fire and weren't really worth saving. I wadded them up and dropped them in one of the plastic grocery bags which I kept under the sink to use when cleaning Bob's litter box.
Before leaving the bathroom, I topped off Bob's food and poured him some fresh water. This would keep him happy for another ten to twelve hours.
Refreshed from the shower, I grabbed the bag of ruined clothing and walked back to the front of the motorhome where agent Jones was still sitting.
“What's in the bag?”
“My burned clothes. Can't leave them here, they'll stink up the place.”
I picked up my car keys off the counter and said, “Ready to go.”
Jones went out the door first. Stopping on the step, he scanned the area to make sure it was safe. Then he headed for the Jeep.
Behind him, I stepped out, locked the door, and looked up at the sky.
It was still dark, but in the distance, I could see the faint glow of the coming dawn. Soon, if all went as planned, I'd be delivering a package and rescuing a wiener dog.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
Harris was waiting for us when we got back. “There's been a change of plans. We want one of our guys to do the exchange instead of you. It'll be safer that way.”
I shook my head, “That won't work. Your guys look like cops. Even from a distance, your people look, walk, and talk like cops.
“Darrell will know and he'll bail. We won't get Oscar and you won't get Darrell.
“Let me do it as planned. He's heard my voice, he knows what to expect.”
Harris studied me for a moment. “It could be dangerous. You sure you want to do this?”
“Yes, I'm sure.”
“Okay then. Follow me.”
He led me into the large room where his people were still monitoring video screens. Buck was sitting on a couch at the back of the room, donut in hand.
He smiled when he saw me. “Did they talk you out of it?”
I shook my head. “No, I'm doing this. I'm getting Oscar back.”
He gave me a thumbs up, and I nodded.
Harris led me through a door to the right of the interrogation room I'd been in earlier. This room was filled with electronic gear, body armor, kevlar helmets, and night vision glasses.
A metal table was positioned in the center of the room. Four chairs surrounded it.
&n
bsp; Pointing at a chair, Harris said, “Sit.”
He handed me Polly's cellphone. “We've paired this phone with one of ours, so we'll be able to listen in on any calls you get. We've also added a tracking app so we'll know where you are. Whatever you do, keep this phone with you.
“We're putting together a brick of pot that looks exactly like the photo on Polly's phone. We wrapped it with the same kind of plastic, and loaded it with high grade pot.
“We've put a GPS tracker in the package and we'll be following it until we get it back.”
Harris sat in the chair across from me. “Look, we don't want you to get hurt. So don't do anything stupid. Just make the exchange and get out of there.
“If things go south, bail. Don't bother to look back. Just run.”
I nodded. “I can run. But only after I get the dog back.”
Harris sighed. “You and that damn dog.”
He looked at his watch, “You've got two hours before the call. There's a cot over there. Get some rest.”
I took his advice. After he left the room, I laid down on the cot and closed my eyes.
I must have slept, because the next thing I knew, Agent Jones was kicking one of the legs of the cot.
“Time to get up. Your guy should be calling soon. There's breakfast on the table.”
Behind him, I could see a plate of donuts and a can of soda on the table. Not my usual morning meal, but on this day it looked pretty good.
I stood, stretched, and walked to the table and grabbed a glazed donut and the Coke. The donut was warm, the drink cold. A pretty good combination.
As I ate the donut, I started thinking about how just a few weeks ago, my life had been simple. Living in my motorhome with Bob. No worries. No kidnappers, no exploding meth labs and no Homeland Security Agents picking me up in the middle of the night.
Since moving into Serenity Cove, my life had gotten a lot more interesting. And a lot more dangerous.
The most dangerous part was coming up. In the next hour or so I would be handing off ten pounds of high grade pot with a drug dealer.
I decided a second donut was in order. This time I chose a chocolate covered one. I washed it down with the rest of the Coke.
Harris walked into the room. “Get a good nap?”
“Sure did. It's like a Hilton in here.”
He smiled.
“So, you ready for the call?”
“Yes. Anything special you want me to say?”
“No, just get Darrell to set a time and place for the exchange and tell him you'll be there. Try to get a thirty minute lead time so we can get our guys in place.”
“Will do.”
In my previous conversation with Darrell, I'd told him I wouldn't be able to get the package until after eight in the morning because it was locked in a storage building. The truth was, when we'd spoken, I didn't have a package to give him. But now, thanks to Agent Harris and Homeland Security, I had the package he wanted.
Darrell said he'd call at eight thirty.
At eight fifteen, Harris and Jones sat with me at the table in the small room, waiting for Polly's phone to ring. Between the three of us, we'd finished off the plate of donuts.
Another agent had brought me a bottle of water to keep my throat from going dry. I was half way through the bottle when the phone rang.
I answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“You got the package?”
“Yes, I've got it. You keeping my dog happy?”
“Can't tell if he's happy. But he's right here beside me. Snoring.”
“Snoring is good, means he's still alive. So when do you want to do this?”
“Nine o'clock. At the west end of Dearborn street. Pull into the funeral home parking lot. Park near the water. Come alone. No cops. Keep your phone close.”
Before I could reply, Darrell ended the call
Harris and Jones had listened in on the conversation, and as soon as the call ended another agent came into the room with a laptop computer.
The screen on the computer displayed a Google Earth view of the funeral home parking lot at the end of Dearborn Street.
Harris pointed at the screen. “He picked an interesting location. There's at least three escape routes. He could go north on Harbor street, South on Green street or East on Dearborn. Each leads into a residential neighborhood.
“The funeral home parking lot backs up to Lemon Bay, and there's a small boat dock there. Open water from there to the Intracoastal and the Gulf of Mexico.”
Harris shook his head. “I don't like it. Too big an area for us to cover. We don't have enough people to do it right. No air support, and it'll take us at least an hour to get a boat in position.
He looked at me. “I don't think you should be doing this. Too much chance of something going wrong.”
I shook my head. “I'm going. Whether you guys are ready or not, I'm going to be there.”
Harris frowned. “I don't like it. But if you're good with it, then it's a go.”
He pointed at the Google Earth view of the parking lot. “Park here, near these trees. We'll get one of our guys back there. If things go south, head that way.
“When you park, back in. Make sure your Jeep is facing the road in case you need to leave in a hurry.
“Shouldn't be anyone else in the parking lot this time of day, but if there is, park as far away from them as you can.”
He looked at his watch, “You've got twenty minutes to get there. If you need to use the facilities, now's the time.”
After drinking a coke and a full bottle of water, a visit the men's room was in order. So I headed that way.
When I came out, Harris and Jones were standing in front of one of the video monitors.
Pointing at the screen, Harris said, “We're moving our guys into position, but haven't been able to set up a video feed yet. May not be able to. Not enough time.”
He picked up a small duffel bag, reached inside and pulled out a package wrapped in plastic.
“This is what we made up for you. It looks and weighs the same as the package Polly found.
“You'll want to be careful with this. Street value is around forty thousand dollars. If you're caught with it by the local police, you can expect to spend some time in jail.”
Before handing me the package, Harris put it in a plastic Walmart shopping bag. “Keep it in this. Draws less attention.”
I picked up the bag. It had some weight to it. “What's to keep me from selling this and skipping town?”
Harris didn't smile. He just said, “Twenty years in prison.”
I'd tried to make a joke, but no one was laughing.
Harris looked at his watch. “Time for you to go. And don't forget, we're tracking both you and the package.”
I nodded and headed for the door.
CHAPTER FORTY NINE
Out in the Jeep, the first thing I did was put the Walmart shopping bag under the passenger seat. It had ten pounds of pot in it and I felt better having it out of sight.
The drive to the funeral home parking lot took me down Dearborn street. Familiar territory. Palm trees overhead, small shops on the left and right, a local barber offering nine dollar haircuts.
Small town America. The kind of place you'd feel safe leaving your car unlocked. But not me. Not today. Not with forty thousand dollars of contraband under the seat.
At the end of Dearborn street, I pulled into the parking lot behind the funeral home. It was empty. No other cars. No people.
The far side of the lot backed up to the waters of Lemon Bay and the Intracoastal waterway that runs through it. A calming view for those visiting the funeral home.
Darrell had told me to park close to the water. That would be easy. Every parking spot in this lot was close to the water. The very closest were those on the back row. And that's where I parked, backing in so the front of the Jeep faced the street.
This would give me a view of other cars entering the lot and al
low me a quick get away if it became necessary.
After parking, I rolled down my window and waited for Darrell to show up. It was a nice day to be sitting outside. Deep blue skies, no humidity, and just a slight breeze over the water. Perfect Florida springtime weather.
The waves of Lemon Bay rolled in against the rock seawall behind me. The rhythmic sound helped calm my nerves.
Truth is, I wasn't as nervous as I probably should have been. I was still thinking of Darrell as just a small time hustler, trying to make a buck. Probably not really dangerous.
Harris said at least one of his agents would be hidden behind the bushes on the north side of the parking lot. Looking in that direction, I saw a tall stand of thick bamboo, screening the parking lot from the nearby residential neighborhood.
I looked, but didn't see anyone back there. Probably a good thing. If I could see an agent hiding back there, Darrell might see him as well and call off the exchange.
After ten minutes of waiting and no sign of Darrell, I started to wonder if he'd show up. Maybe he'd been tipped off to the presence of federal agents.
Or maybe he had called with a change of plans and I missed the call. I checked Polly's phone. No missed calls, full battery charge, and signal strength at five bars.
Darrell was now twelve minutes late. No sign of him anywhere. Had we somehow gotten our signals crossed? Maybe I was supposed to meet him somewhere else.
I decided to get out of the Jeep, walk around the parking lot, see if I'd missed anything. Stepping out, I immediately heard a phone ringing. Not Polly's. The ringing came from another phone, somewhere nearby.
Turning, I tried to zero in on the ringing. It didn't come from the street or the bushes on my left. Nor from inside the funeral home.
When I turned toward the water, I realized the sound was coming from the small boat dock that stretched out over Lemon Bay. I walked in that direction and noticed a small hand painted sign reading, “Serenity Pier”.
Apparently the dock served guests of the funeral home. A place where grieving relatives could go and seek solace while dealing with the passing of a loved one.
