by Matt Lincoln
“So, I’ve been frustrated at the fact that we can’t hit these guys at the source, right? I can’t get to it myself, but maybe we can work together.”
She paused to let me respond, but I needed to hear more, and she knew it.
“I figure you go to the source and track down the cartel, try to snuff it out from there. Meanwhile, you keep sending my boat to where they are moving the drugs. We keep intercepting while you do your magic down there, and together, we put a stop to this whole thing.”
I had to admit, it was a decent plan. If it were anyone else in the world, I’d say yes, but it was Linda. If the cartel finds out there is a connection once I start stirring the pot, Linda could very well get caught in the crossfire.
“No.” I needed to put a stop to this now.
“What do you mean, no?” she asked adamantly.
“I mean no,” I repeated as I hardened my voice. “This is dangerous. Look, you are lucky to be in a leadership role at a job you’ve only held for a few years. You have a nice paycheck, you live in paradise, you have it made right now.” I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “Why do you need to poke the bear and potentially ruin it? Do you really want to make waves and potentially ruin your career? Do me a favor. Go to work, and do your job. When you’re not at work, explore the island. But for the love of everything, just let this go. You’re wasting your time.”
I hung up the phone before she could respond. Was it a drastic move? Yeah, but I wanted to drive the point home. I did not want to go down this path with her.
I sighed. On the one hand, this plan could go really well, and they would make a huge difference. On the other hand, she could get hurt or worse. The last thing I wanted to do was put her life in danger.
The door burst open and broke me out of my thoughts. I turned to see a man in a ball cap and aviators. His loose-fitting flak jacket hung over his jeans, and when he saw me, he made a beeline toward me.
I was grateful to see Doc at this moment. Doc was another vital part of my team and had seen me through countless injuries and near-death experiences. I had no doubt that he’d be able to handle this too, although I wouldn’t hear the end of it for quite some time.
“Heh, you did a number on yourself, huh?” Doc chuckled as he looked over my leg, his calm, light voice easing the tension from my phone call.
“What’s the damage, Doc?” I grimaced as he rotated my leg.
“Nothing I can’t fix,” he replied casually as he undid the rag around my leg. “You’ll just have a funky scar to tell stories about.”
“Eh, it’ll go with the other ones,” I joked. Some of the other scars were not a joke, though. A lot of them accompanied dark days, so I was glad to have one that didn’t bring back such horrific memories.
“Come on.” Doc helped me get my leg down off the barstool and threw himself under my arm. “Let’s get you to the car and over to my lab. I can do so much more from there.”
“Thanks,” I said as I accepted his help.
As I walked out of the bar and into the glowing sunrise, I found myself thinking again about Linda’s proposal. Maybe there was something to be said about working with someone you trust. If I played my cards right, no one needed to ever know she was involved. These were dangerous thoughts, but as Doc loaded me up into his van, I found myself rationalizing them away.
I made a mental note to visit Carl Reyes soon. If I was going to say yes, then I owed Linda’s dad an apology first.
10
Linda
I was very grateful to CO Watson for deciding to set us up with Puerto Rico as port calls during this patrol. It allowed me more time here at home to finish unpacking and get settled in.
What I did not like was the way my phone call with Jake had ended, but I knew him too well to feel dismissed. He was stewing over my proposal, he had to be. Even if he still said no, he would call me back eventually to say so. He couldn’t stay mad for long.
In the meantime, I was only going to be here on the island for a couple of years, and I wanted to take advantage of the fact that I lived here and explore as much as I could before the two years crept up on me. That morning, I threw on a white tank top, cargo shorts, and my favorite worn-in sneakers before heading out to wander the streets of San Juan.
Unlike the hustle and bustle of most of the cities I’ve seen in my travels, San Juan managed to keep its authenticity, even with souvenir and trinket shops popping up on every block. I noticed a large increase in the number of street vendors when the cruise ships would pull in, but even without the ships, the streets were full of entertainment and tourists.
The buildings themselves were all connected, giving the illusion that it was one big wall, but each storefront and address was painted a different color. This was done on every block and created a cheerful vibe that vibrated throughout the city. I walked down a few blocks, casually window shopping, and noticed a barrier blocking the road at the far end. Two police officers were standing by and keeping an eye on the tourists. When I got closer, I realized why.
Beyond the barricade and down the block stood the black gates surrounding the Governor’s mansion. The blue building stood separate and alone, tucked away from the chaos of the city streets. I looked up and saw countless umbrellas strung overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of shadows on the cobblestone street below. Tourists jostled in front of the barricades to take photos, but I stood back. There was plenty of time for photos. I simply wanted to appreciate the view.
I continued wandering the city until I found a restaurant that looked promising. I entered the front door expecting to walk inside a building, but instead, I ended up in what looked like a small courtyard, with tables and chairs set up on the left and a fully-stocked bar on the right. A hostess stand stood before that, and a young woman dressed all in black smiled as I approached her.
“Good afternoon,” she said cheerfully. “How many people will be joining you?”
“Oh, just myself, thanks.” I had never been a fan of eating out alone, but I was hungry and refused to eat anything but legitimate Puerto Rican food.
“Inside or outside?” She grabbed one menu out from under her stand and looked at me expectantly.
“Outside is fine.”
She nodded and spun around, leading me to an empty table directly across from the bar. This was perfect, as I positioned myself with my back to the wall so that I could enjoy the view before taking the menu from her.
Other than the people-watching as tourists and locals alike wandered through the courtyard, I also loved the openness of the restaurant. The warmth of the sun shone down between the buildings, and the ambient noises accompanied the scenery perfectly. I flipped open the menu and scanned it, my eyes landing on the mofongo options. I had always loved mofongo. It was basically just mashed plantains with spices, shaped and topped with one of several meat or fish options, but man, was it delicious.
“Your server will be with you shortly.” The hostess grinned and walked away, but I already knew what I wanted.
My little lunch date flew by, and by the time I was ready to leave, I was completely relaxed. The steak mofongo was heavenly. My only complaint was that I feared that I would never be able to find mofongo that good after I left here. I hadn’t known what I was missing before, but now I did.
My stomach full and my soul rejuvenated, I stepped back out onto the streets of San Juan. My next stop was El Morro. El Morro was the fort located on the northwestern-most point of Old San Juan. When the Spanish had settled in the city of San Juan back in the early 1500s, they had built a fortress to surround the city from a seaborne attack. Today, it was simply a great spot to visit, as it was preserved as a historical site.
The fort stood across a wide-open field. Several people were standing out in the rolling grass, either flying kites or sitting on beach towels and soaking up the warm afternoon sun. Straight ahead, piercing the perfectly blue sky, was the entrance to the fort. I walked up the path toward the fort while taking it a
ll in. Two pillars lined each side of the arched entrance, and the sharp peak overhead stood out against the rest of the fort wall.
Once inside, I wandered around, reading as many plaques as I could, absorbing the knowledge and history of these walls. The Garitas, or sentry boxes that were spaced out along the walls, were smaller than I’d imagined them to be, and going inside them to peer out through the openings was a surreal experience. I tried to imagine what it would be like being stationed up here and decided I liked cutter life better. It was still just as claustrophobic, but at least my team and I had each other out there. These sentry boxes seemed lonely and isolating up here, although the view was breathtaking.
As I headed back to my apartment, I reflected on how much I had seen in such a short period of time. It was definitely different down here in Puerto Rico, and although it was a bit of a culture shock, I was embracing it completely and loving every second. It amazed me that the cutter positions down here were hard to fill, considering all that the island had to offer.
When I walked into my apartment and kicked off my sneakers, I realized just how achy and tired my feet were. San Juan was a hilly city, and I had walked through most of it today. The exhaustion was a satisfying feeling, though, and I couldn’t wait until my next adventure.
11
Linda
Before I knew it, it was time to get back underway for the last leg of the patrol. I drove into work, quickly finding a spot right in front of the pier where my cutter was docked. I grabbed my black canvas backpack out of the back of the Jeep. I always made sure my bunk was fully stocked with enough clothes, toiletries, and snacks. I always kept a stash of snacks in case my schedule got knocked out of its usual routine, and I needed a quick energy zap, and I took this very seriously.
When I got on board, I ran into ET2 Rogers on the mess deck. He was taking full advantage of the early morning quiet to grab a warm meal in peace. I felt he had the right idea.
“Good morning, Rogers,” I said with a grin as I glanced down at his plate. He had a full plate of eggs and bacon, and the eggs were topped off with some hot sauce.
“Good morning, XO,” Rogers replied casually, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Feel free to join me before the rest of the crew arrives!”
“Smart move.” I put my bag down on the empty bench and headed over to get some breakfast. CS3 Rodriguez was running the show this morning behind the chow line, and he made a mean omelet. I walked up to him and simply nodded, and he went to work. It seemed I was pretty predictable.
I carried my plate of omelet back to ET2 Rogers and took the seat across from him.
“How was your day off?” he asked.
“It was nice! I walked around San Juan.” I cut into my omelet and took my first bite. It was fantastic as usual, the extra cheese clinging to my fork as I went. “I found an amazing restaurant with great mofongo and checked out a few interesting spots. My feet hate me today from all the walking, but that’s alright.” I grinned around my omelet.
“That’s great!” Rogers said, running his hands through his copper locks. “San Juan was one of the first things I checked out when I got here. There are a ton of great restaurants. You’ll be busy for a while trying to check them all out.” Rogers took a large sip of his coffee, his eyes darting toward the entrance at the sound of voices.
I turned to see Murphy and Slade walking in and heading over to Rodriguez’s window for some chow. They saw us as they walked in.
“Hey, Rogers, hey, XO!” Slade exclaimed. Now that I knew her coffee secret, her buoyant morning moods weren’t so surprising.
“Hey, guys,” Murphy called out, noticeably less enthusiastic.
“How’s it going?” I asked before turning back to my plate. If the day was starting to pick up, I wanted to finish my breakfast and get off the mess deck before it got too crowded.
As I was finishing my meal, Slade and Murphy walked over to us with full plates, taking seats next to us. Slade slid over a coffee cup, and I didn’t even need to ask. I immediately took a sip and let the caffeine wake me up. They began making small talk about the weather conditions while I stared out the window, watching the rest of the crew make their way onto the boat.
“Oh, did you hear about the Hernandez? They got another bust, too”
I snapped suddenly back into the conversation, turning to Murphy, who had been the one sharing the news.
“The Hernandez got another bust?” I clarified. “Isn’t this the third one in a single patrol?”
“Yup,” Murphy replied with a shrug. “The cartels must be busy lately.”
“Yeah, must be,” I mumbled. I grabbed my bag and clambered out of my seat. “I gotta go get my stuff together. Thanks for the coffee.” I nodded in Slade’s direction before heading down to my stateroom.
I unpacked my bag absentmindedly. In actuality, I was deep in thought about what I had just heard. I knew the XO over on the Hernandez since we graduated together, and I decided to send a message over to him for some more information. Once I was situated and all of my snacks were stashed away, I sat down at my desk, booted up my computer, and opened up the internal messenger system. I found XO Graves quickly, and the little green icon next to his name told me he was at his computer as well. I typed out my first message.
Hey, Graves, quick question for you.
I sat with bated breath awaiting a response. Just as I was about to give up, it came through.
Hey, Reyes, how’s life? I’ve been meaning to reach out. Heard you were down here.
I sighed with relief and then began typing furiously.
Puerto Rico is gorgeous! We need to get some coffee after work one day when both boats are in. I have a quick question for you if you don’t mind. Do you recall the stamp on the packages you received on your recent drug busts?
I got up and paced while waiting for his response. I had a feeling I already knew the answer, but when my computer chimed, I scrambled toward the screen to confirm my suspicions.
Yeah, it was weird that they were all the same. Black rabbit stamp, long ears, big round eyes… Kinda creepy. Not sure why they decided to go into that much creepy detail.
I felt a tingle up my spine. This was a huge amount of drug traffic from a single source. It was time to put my foot down and demand Jake’s help.
12
Jake
The pain in my leg was subsiding with each sip of whiskey. I hobbled over to the table and poured myself another glass. Rosa narrowed her eyes at me but didn’t argue. She knew how much pain I was in.
Doc had given me some hardcore painkillers, along with orders to stay with Rosa so that she could monitor my recovery, and Rosa was ensuring that I stuck to the four-hour regimen of pills. As I inched closer to the end of each window, though, the pain came roaring back. The whiskey helped. Rosa wasn’t happy at first, but we quickly came to an agreement that involved me pacing myself.
Rosa and I went back to my SEAL days. We were on several missions together and have saved each other’s lives on multiple occasions. One of the most horrific instances resulted in permanent damage to her vocal cords. So, when Rosa wasn’t narrowing her eyes at me these days, she was usually signing angrily every time I broke one of her rules. I knew she simply wanted me to get better quickly, but damn, I was in pain.
I looked over at her as she sat at her dining room table near the window. She had gone back to reading her book, her elbows propped on the edge of the table. The sun bounced off her dark red hair, which was pulled back in a French braid, and her dark brown eyes were framed by long eyelashes that emphasized her disdain whenever she narrowed her eyes at me, which was a lot these days.
Since I was laid up in recovery mode, I had taken the opportunity to do some digging into the cartel movements in the Caribbean. I discovered that there was a new cartel that had surfaced recently in Colombia. They had grown incredibly fast, they were extremely aggressive and greedy, and they labeled all of their cocaine with their cartel logo. The logo immedia
tely jumped out at me. It was a rabbit with long ears and… what had Linda called them?... eerie eyes.
This was it. This is what was causing Linda to lose sleep at night. It made no sense, though. How had this cartel grown as fast as they had? They were suddenly pushing a lot of product through the Caribbean, and they were experiencing a ton of losses by the Coast Guard’s interceptions. So, how were they surviving?
Any good drug runner would know how to space their shipments out. Some shipments may get intercepted, but others would slip through the cracks. Based on this knowledge, one of three things was happening. Either this group was very inexperienced and would fizzle out quickly, or they were pushing an insane amount of product out all at once, which would mean we were only getting a small portion of what they were moving.
The third option was that they were doing this on purpose to distract the Coast Guard so that they could send future shipments elsewhere undetected. This would mean the United States would get hit rather suddenly with an onslaught of cocaine, and that would cause a ripple effect through hospitals and law enforcement before continuing to affect the rest of the country. This was the scariest scenario. It meant that these guys were smart and playing the long game. It also meant that they may have insider knowledge of how our Coast Guard operated and how to manipulate them.
I was suddenly completely on board with Linda’s idea. There was no way I was going to let them manipulate her and the rest of my fellow Coasties. Sure, I had joined the SEALs, but I started out in the Coast Guard. They would always have a special place in my heart.
As if on cue, my phone rang, and Linda’s name scrolled across the screen. I knew in my gut that this was not a social call.
