Gray Ghost (The Bill Dix Detective Series Book 1) (5 page)

The suspects on the disabled vessel were seen to look at each other and grin. Both suspects then swung their weapons toward Coast Guard personnel and began shooting at the advancing Coast Guard boats and also the helicopter Jim Calhoun was in. The first rounds from both suspects slapped the water near the incoming boats, but the boats continued. Seaman Ross said he saw rounds from the suspects pierce the water to the left of the LRI he was in. Observing the attack, Jim Calhoun radioed, “Green, go, go, go.”

Seaman Ross fired a flurry of rounds at the suspects after being ordered to return fire. The .50 caliber rounds swept from left to right and finally caught the front of the boat. Ross stated he stopped firing when he believed the boat had been disabled.

One of the suspects raised the 40 mm grenade launcher and propelled a round at the helicopter. Jim Calhoun simultaneously squeezed the trigger of his sniper rifle, hitting the suspect in the chest. This suspect has been confirmed deceased.

The other suspect grabbed a .45 Glock from his hip and squeezed the trigger. The round traveled through his skull and out the other side. The final suspect has been confirmed as deceased by his own hand.

The incident ended at 1532 hours when Jim Calhoun announced over the radio, “All units stand down, repeat, stand down.”

Both LRIs arrived at the disabled speedboat just after the last suspect committed suicide. The Stingray helicopter carrying Jim Calhoun returned to
Venturous
as it was low on fuel.

Coast Guard Seaman Ross and his partners needed most of the remainder of the day to process the contraband located on the vessel. Personnel recovered roughly 500 kilos of cocaine, a hundred pounds of heroin, illegal rifles, ammunition, and a few bundles of cash estimated to be a million dollars. No identification was located regarding the two deceased suspects. All efforts will be made to identify the suspects once their remains are brought ashore.

END OF REPORT.

Beyond the obvious highlight of the seizure, the events made Calhoun, and by extension, the Coast Guard, look very good. It also helped justify the seventeen billion dollar Deepwater Project he’d helped push through Congress.

He smiled, knowing drug interdictions such as these made the politicians, and the voters, very happy. With the proposal for the project calling for ninety-one ships, thirty-five planes, and thirty-four helicopters and costly upgrades to the forty-nine cutters and ninety-three helicopters already in service, Calhoun realized he would need every bit of support he could muster to help the cause gain momentum. Positive media coverage was essential to promote the Coast Guard. However, he still felt a few more solid interdictions like the one today would be required to have any chance of getting enough votes for the project funding.

Calhoun was joined by several of his close friends on the bow of the ship as he finished briefing the Captain and handed him the report. The wind had picked up, making it difficult to light their cigars. Calhoun shielded his with his body and lit it. The others quickly followed his lead. These cigars had special meaning as they were recently seized from the captured speedboat listed in his report.

Soon after the first puffs, war stories began and expensive whiskey was poured. Calhoun focused on swirling the contents of his drink slowly around and around to help melt the single ice cube. He inhaled deeply on the cigar and found it to be smooth, with a clean burn. He wondered if Fidel stepping down would open trade up in Cuba, at least as far as cigar exportation was concerned.
The poor bastards who died today must have been rather well connected
.

Calhoun admired men with a taste for the exquisite. Unfortunately, the two dead men had chosen the wrong path. They wouldn’t run dope again, that was for sure.
Regardless, none of my sentimental crap does them any good now.

A discussion among the other men on the cutter about malfunctioning Unmanned Aerial Vehicles (UAVs) got his attention. The Captain and his crew often deferred to Calhoun because he was widely considered the expert when it came to technical systems, particularly computer and network communication with the fast unmanned aerial vehicles.

Calhoun had spent two years at MIT before finding himself bored and unchallenged, forcing him to move on to other things. From there, he’d landed in the Marines. Before long, he’d been selected for Special Ops missions, received the extensive training required for the various jobs he was assigned and spent a lot of time on foreign soil.

On this occasion, he explained to the rapt audience his theory about what was needed to prevent the UAVs from occasionally crashing into the ocean without any indication as to why.

Shortly into the discussion, his cell phone began vibrating in his chest pocket.

“
Gentlemen.” He retrieved his phone and glanced at it. “At the risk of boring you to sleep, I’ll spare you of the required adjustments needed for the program to work efficiently. I have an important call to take. How about we meet for dinner?”

The men nodded and turned to walk toward the entrance to the ship’s bridge while Calhoun answered his call.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Without the use of a high-powered microscope or a trained criminalist to inspect the cocaine, the three packages sitting on the Coleman cooler in Wilfred’s boat looked just like thousands of other kilos the detectives had seen before. Each was wrapped several times in clear cellophane. It appeared they were stamped with a symbol, but without removing all the layers of plastic wrap, none of the men could begin to guess at what it might be. Then there was the question of whether or not knowing the information would help their investigation.

They decided to carefully open one package to get a better look. They discussed who would rewrap it to make it appear as though it hadn’t been tampered with. Bubba said he’d take care of it. Since Bubba had volunteered to close it, they all agreed he should be the one to open it.

Bubba retrieved a pair of cloth sun gloves he used to protect his hands and slowly began the process of unwrapping one of the packages.

Dix wondered why
he
didn’t think to bring gloves like Bubba’s. He glanced at Petersen, who shrugged.

The contents were fairly mundane. It looked to be about the standard size of a kilo, two point two pound, pressed block of off-white, pure cocaine. Stamped squarely in the middle of the brick was a horse head emblem, about two inches tall and three inches wide. It was dark red in color.

Dix pointed to the image. “Have you ever seen that mark before?”

Petersen shook his head. “Nope.”

Dix looked at Bubba. “You ever see anything like this?”

Bubba paused in his work. “Actually, I heard of the red horse head before.”

“
Where?” Dix was interested.

Petersen said, “I don’t care how or why you’ve seen something like this before, Bubba, but can you tell us anything that might help?”

Bubba looked sheepishly from one detective to the other. “Our older brother used to run coke to Miami. He told me some of it was marked with red horse heads on it.”

Dix shook his head. “Can we talk to him? See if he has some info that may be helpful?”

Bubba looked away. “No, you can’t. He’s dead.” “Man, I’m sorry to hear that.” Dix shook his head.

Taking a deep breath, Bubba looked at Petersen and Dix. “I know people on the island who still run coke. I’ll ask around when we get back to see when anyone last saw kilos with red horse heads on them.”

The big man looked over the side of the boat where Wilfred still swam in the water below. Then he straightened. “I’ll tell you what I know so far. There’s a white guy known as the Caller. Don’t know who he is. Supposed to have a lot of money from drug running. Maybe American. Pays locals to move his stuff from Jamaica and Bahamas to Miami. He’s been in Andros for about twenty-five years. Never been caught. Nobody knows who he is. But he’s lucky and gets most of his stuff through to the U.S.”

The detectives glanced at each other, then back at Bubba.

Dix spoke first. “How does it work?”

“
Someone gets a call. Guy’s voice sounds weird and he doesn’t say much. Number’s always blocked. He’s careful and good at what he does.”

Petersen whistled. “Sounds pretty sophisticated.

“
Near as I can tell, the head guy has to know something about how the feds work. Maybe he’s a fed or local narc,” Bubba added.

Petersen looked puzzled. “Why the connection with the feds or local narcs?”

Dix interrupted. “What about the Coast Guard, U.S. Navy, or Royal Navy?”

Bubba shrugged. “Could be them too. Whoever he is, he got trained on what not to do.”

Dix figured Bubba was probably right, and it bothered him tremendously. The thought of someone wearing a badge or protecting the U.S. from narcotic smuggling involved in such an elaborate operation was something he feared would happen with all the sequesters, pay cuts, layoffs, and terrible morale in federal, state, and county law enforcement recently. But this guy had gotten into the narcotic business, probably for the money, well before all the problems in law enforcement began.

Petersen shrugged as Dix turned to him. “I’m having second thoughts about continuing this. The situation is already extremely sticky, and now two off-duty cops from Miami are knee deep in the middle of a major Bahamian problem.”

Petersen raised his eyebrow. “Let’s wait and see.”

Dix nodded. He rubbed his temples as he felt a headache coming on.

They cracked open a few beers, shared the fresh tuna sandwiches from the cooler, and enjoyed the sunshine. Dix feared it might be the last time they’d be able to relax until this was all over.

Meanwhile, below them, they knew Wilfred was busy searching for clues.

Bubba pointed. “Here he comes now.” He was obviously relieved to see his brother was okay.

When he surfaced, Wilfred immediately asked for something to write with.

Dix pulled a ballpoint pen from his fishing bag and Petersen produced a crumpled up napkin from his pants pocket.

Wilfred didn’t wait to begin talking as Dix wrote. “BEX 571 something, something, B6 06. Port, red square decal, expires 02-08, Florida. Definitely a bunch more coke down there. The whole front of the boat and the side storage area is full of kilos.”

Dix was impressed with what Wilfred had remembered. He wasn’t too sure how far he could run with the new information, but he had a retired cop friend at the Florida DMV who was a whiz.

He carefully put the napkin and pen into his shirt pocket. “Good work, Wilfred. Why don’t you get some food and drink? We already ate.” Bubba and Petersen helped remove the diving gear. Wilfred looked beat and desperately in the need of some rest. Two solid dives had been completed with some results, but the physical burden was all over Wilfred’s face.

However, Dix, in full detective mode, decided to question Wilfred further. “Hey Wilfred, did you see anything else down there?”

“
Not that I can remember right now. You want me to dive again?”

Petersen stepped in. “We’ve got enough to go on. Let the guy rest. We’ve spent too much time poking around out here anyway. Although I’d love to chase a few more bonefish, we’re gonna have to move quickly before this whole thing blows up.”

Wilfred looked exhausted. “Besides, I can’t think of anything else helpful right now. I really just want to eat my sandwich, drink some water, and rest.”

Dix nodded. “You’re right. Sorry, Wilfred. I get going and have trouble slowing down.”

Wilfred quickly finished his meal, and then he and Bubba fired up the Yamahas and took their clients back to the lodge to freshen up. Dix watched as they got closer to land and was able to see more wildlife as the sun began to dip.
Shame to let narcotics take away from the real beauty of the island.

CHAPTER EIGHT

A. M. Thomas, Special Ops, retired, had been a mercenary for hire for the better part of three years. His most recent contract, which he received through secure lines, was to locate, disable, and retrieve a speedboat named
Gray Ghost.
He was not told what was in the boat, but his experience in these things made him theorize it would be narcotics. His employer had said it contained
precious cargo
. Thomas studied the mission and classified it as moderately challenging. He would be paid handsomely when it was over.

However, due to a slight miscalculation and a somewhat errant .50 caliber round, he found himself in an undesirable situation. He’d successfully located the vessel and disabled it. But he’d failed to retrieve it. Therefore, until he got the speedboat, the lucrative contract would not be fulfilled.