Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) (21 page)

Bubba watched the Denali intently. The car had stopped near a flimsy chain-link fence, and the guy in the right front passenger seat got out. With a pair of large bolt cutters, he cut the padlock, swung the gate open, and got back in the vehicle. After the SUV had pulled in, the left rear passenger got out to secure the gate.

Bubba pointed. “Dey stopped and went in there. I lost ’em after that.”

Wilfred grimaced. “We have to be a few miles south of the storage unit. There’s too much firepower and too many men in that SUV to just be driving around aimlessly. Where the hell did they go?”

Bubba had already pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and waited. His granddaddy knew the island better than anyone.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Three of the names on Snead’s list were eliminated by midnight through a series of phone calls and searches. They’d also been questioned and threatened with polygraphs. Each person welcomed the polygraph and said they had nothing to hide.

Snead shook his head. The only name left on his list was Rear Admiral Tony Charles.

That was unofficial. Officially, there was one more name with a red line already through it: Lieutenant Commander Jim Calhoun.

Snead wrestled with the name for several minutes and began to sift through his data and leads. Most everything pointed to Tony Charles, but that was because he hadn’t considered Jim Calhoun. He couldn’t believe the guy could have anything to do with drug trafficking.

If it weren’t for the fact that he was getting nowhere with connecting Tony Charles to the Caller, he wouldn’t have considered inserting Calhoun into the equation. He felt almost guilty even considering it, but it was his last resort.

He was concerned for Dix and Petersen and assumed they were in real trouble. He figured he owed it to them to consider every angle.

Snead considered the timelines and events from when he first met Jim Calhoun. They were both recently out of the service and trying to become cops. About thirty years ago they’d both applied to Miami-Dade PD. Both were accepted and gainfully employed until Calhoun was caught having a relationship with another officer’s wife.

Calhoun was told to resign or be fired. None of the men on the force at that time was still around. The whole event had been swept under the rug as Calhoun grudgingly resigned.

Then, somehow the guy ended up with the Coast Guard. He rose through the ranks quickly and developed a reputation for catching drug smugglers in the Atlantic and the Caribbean. He earned the nickname ‘the Bloodhound,’ taught narcotics training for the FBI at Quantico and held seminars on the topic all around the United States. Calhoun ate, slept, and breathed narcotics and was possibly the greatest expert in the country.

Snead realized the type of drug smuggler he was looking for would need that type of expertise to be successful. Calhoun might actually be the guy everyone was looking for. He reluctantly included him as a suspect. As he pieced the facts together on the timeline he’d created, Snead grew more upset.
How did I miss this?
The name of the registered owner of the speedboat, access to the computer used to register the vessel, and the timeframe of his career, all the circumstantial evidence pointed to Calhoun, not Charles.

Snead recalled the trouble his contacts were having trying to search through internet databases and remembered Calhoun had attended MIT for two years when he’d become bored. Everywhere he looked, fragments of the puzzle pointed at Calhoun, but not enough to develop probable cause for a search warrant, let alone a strong case for conviction.

While he contemplated more options and other ways to link Calhoun to the case, he had an epiphany. He needed to run his idea by Dix and Petersen immediately and was looking for his cell phone when he heard it ring. He picked it up, looked at his caller ID, and realized it was Dix.
Does this guy have great timing or what?

Snead answered. “Buddy, am I glad to hear from you.”

Dix jumped right in. “You won’t believe this, but your friend Jim Calhoun arrived on the island in a Lear jet. To top it off, on the side of the jet is a red horse head, just like the one on the cocaine over here. He says he seized it from a Colombian drug lord and left the horse head on the plane to piss off the guy.”

Snead thought that odd. “And he arrived on the same jet?”

“
Yep.”

“
Wow, he’s got to have huge clout to be flying around in a seized piece of property worth upwards of forty million. Interesting.”

Dix detected some sarcasm. “Why don’t you sound surprised?”

“
That’s because I’m not. I’ve been getting the same sense here. It still doesn’t feel right saying it, but too many things point to my old friend, Jim Calhoun. I don’t like it, but right now everyone is a suspect. My investigation suggests the person you’re looking for may have handled dozens of murders and missing persons over the years. He’s not someone to take lightly.”

Dix was caught off guard. “Wait. You mean to tell me you actually think Calhoun is the Caller?”

Snead continued, “It seems Calhoun owns a few pieces of expensive property and some toys that are unreported, some under pseudonyms. All together, we’re looking at about six to seven million dollars in net worth. Even if he’d invested very wisely, I don’t think he would be able to afford those things on the salary he makes. And he takes a lot of expensive vacations.”

“
So he has a great portfolio. But how does that make him the Caller?”

“
I’ve thought about the name on the speedboat registration and how the transaction was completed. Calhoun is connected to both of them. I hate to say this, but can you think of anyone else who would know more about the Caribbean drug trade than Calhoun? I can’t. He also has access to UAVs and had input over the years on where the cutters would patrol. All he’d have to do was send the birds and the boats away from his shipments, and they’d get through. It would explain the tremendous success rate of your bad guy.”

Dix was silent for a moment. “Snead, I’ve known you a long time. You know I respect the shit out of you but are we stretching this a little too far? I mean, I’m not crazy about the guy, but come on, the Bloodhound as our drug smuggler and killer?”

“
Listen, Dix, I don’t want it to be true, either. Most of it is circumstantial evidence, but you have to consider Calhoun as a suspect. What we’ve found all leads back to him. The guy’s on the island right now helping devise a plan to capture a bad guy, your bad guy. If
he’s
the bad guy, he’ll do everything he can to learn everyone else’s plans, develop one to allow him to grab the dope, and be off the island before anyone, including you, has any idea what happened. He’s got the expertise, the resources, and the need to get that coke back. If I had to guess, I’d say he’ll probably move tonight, not in a few days.”

“
Okay, I’ll keep him under close surveillance. Petersen and I are headed to the storage yard. If I hear anything, I’ll get back to you. And if you find something concrete to tie Calhoun to all of this, something I can put in a report and prove in court, let me know.” Dix was still doubtful.

Snead hung up, shook his mouse to wake his computer and began searching for more clues.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Pierce put one of his best interrogators, Keith O’Reilly, to work on the dealer they’d apprehended with the search warrant. O’Reilly was a brutal tactician. He’d tried every angle to solicit information.

O’Reilly had gotten tiny pieces of information but nothing concrete. The moment the dealer was arrested, he’d asked for a cigarette. No one had given him one. Since the interrogation was stagnant, O’Reilly requested a pack and placed them on the table. The dealer finally broke his silence. “I was on the phone with a guy I know as the Caller. The cops were breaking down my door. They had a search warrant.”

“
Who is the Caller?”

The dealer eyed the pack of cigarettes on the table between them. “I don’t know, man. He works for either the Coast Guard or the navy. He’s been running drugs for a long time.”

O’Reilly didn’t give him a cigarette.

“
Come on, man. I told you what I know. Just one. I gotta have one.”

“
Not until you give up something useful. How do you know he works for the Coast Guard or navy?”

The dealer guy hesitated. “I did three transactions with him face-to-face.”

O’Reilly gave him one cigarette, but no lighter or match. The guy promptly chewed the cigarette and swallowed it. The dealer looked relieved. “How about another one?”

O’Reilly shook his head. “Describe the man you worked with so we can put together a photo lineup. If you positively identify the subject, you’ll get the cigarettes and a lighter. What you do and say from here on out will determine if you walk away or spend your life in prison.”

The dealer’s head dropped. “Anything, anything you want, just give me a fucking cigarette, man, please. The guy is white, muscular. I’d say he’s in his fifties by now. He always smoked cigars when we did business, and I heard someone call him ‘Hound’ something.”

The room froze. O’Reilly looked at the two-way mirror. He knew Pierce and two of his guys stood behind the glass. Everyone wondered if the drug dealer was talking about ‘Bloodhound,’ a nickname for Jim Calhoun, a high ranking member of the US Coast Guard, and an internationally known narcotic expert.

Pierce decided to relieve O’Reilly. But before he could get to the interrogation room, his phone rang. It was a call from Snead.

After Snead’s update, Pierce had to agree, Jim Calhoun, was likely the Caller. Pierce told Snead about the dealer’s stunning revelation. “I want the dope dealer to positively identify the guy he knew as the Caller and the ‘Hound.’ Make sure they are the same person.”

“
Call me back either way. I’ll let Dix and Petersen know. But we still need hard evidence before we can bring Calhoun in for questioning. And we need to be damn sure of our facts or our asses will be roasted on a spit.”

Snead hung up, and Pierce entered the room to further question the drug dealer.

Ten minutes later, photographs of several people, all matching the dealer’s general description of the ‘Hound,’ were laid out on the table in front of the guy. He looked at the photos and when he got to one of Jim Calhoun, he glanced away.

Pierce noticed the reaction. “You’re looking at life in prison. Can you point out the guy or not?”

Without hesitation, the dealer pointed to the picture of Lieutenant Commander Jim Calhoun. “That’s the guy.”

“
Are you sure?” Pierce wanted no mistakes. “Yep.

Positive.”

“
That’s the guy you know as the Caller and ‘Hound?’” The dealer looked up, defeated. “Yeah, and I’m probably a dead man walking now.”

Pierce stood up and ordered cigarettes and a lighter for the suspect.

The news of the positive identification spread quickly through the team.

Pierce grew serious. “Lock it up, guys. We’ve just started this one. We’ll need more hard evidence to make this stick in court. Calhoun won’t go easily, especially if he knows we’re looking for him. Tell no one what we’re doing.”

Next he contacted his superior and requested he and his team be allowed to fly to Andros immediately to help Dix and Petersen apprehend Jim Calhoun. His supervisor wanted every single piece of evidence tying Calhoun to the case before considering him as a suspect. After an intense debriefing, the Chief ordered Pierce and his guys to Andros.

Pierce quickly called Snead.

Snead didn’t hesitate. “It’s him, right?”

“
The dealer has concrete evidence connecting Calhoun to the Caller, and he positively identified Calhoun in a photo lineup. He even said someone referred to the Caller as the ‘Hound.’ We’re headed out as soon as possible to Andros. Are you coming?”

Snead grabbed his keys and started for his car. “You’re damn right. I wouldn’t miss this rodeo. I’ll meet you at the airport. I never thought I’d see anything like it in my lifetime, but all I really care about is getting to Dix and Petersen before the Bloodhound does.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Bubba slowly explained his exact location to his grandfather but never took his eyes off the gated fence. He’d called his grandfather, assuming the old man might know something about the place he and Wilfred lost sight of the SUV. They were locked and loaded, but he hoped they’d never have to use their weapons. Bubba figured the men they’d been watching were well-trained and had significant firepower.

His grandfather hesitated. “Sounds as though you’re at the entrance to the old underground tunnels.”

Bubba looked at Wilfred in surprise. “What underground tunnels?” Wilfred raised an eyebrow, and Bubba held up his hand for silence.

“
As best I recall, those tunnels were used for repairs to utilities and such. But they started caving in, so they were closed up, maybe forty years ago.”