Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin

Smugglers 3


Accidental Kingpin



Murder in Hawaii









Gerald McCallum














mugglers 3: Accidental Kingpin ©2014

Gerald McCallum

All rights reserved


This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part by photocopying or by any other mean without written permission of the author.


Smugglers 3 is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imaginations and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

























Other books

by Gerald McCallum


Smugglers 1: Nikki

Sex, Cocaine and Murder

in the Florida Keys


2: The Sherriff

Sex, Meth & Murder

The Cartel from Tucson to the Florida Keys


The Pocket Guide For Surviving Doomsday

Or Double Your Money Back


















I was fishing off Miami on a cloudless Saturday morning, a favorite pastime I had often shared with my three buddies many times over the ten years since I’d bought my 23-foot Robalo. We four had grown up together in Miami, went to school together and were all American born Spanish speaking Cubans. Catching fish was not important. Roberto, Tomas, Juan, and I— Geraldo—used fishing as an excuse to relax with a few beers. If we caught anything, we considered it a bonus, because it was the camaraderie that counted.

I will never forget that day, because what happened just after high noon was about to change our lives forever.

We’d gone through half our beer supply when o
ff in the distance I spotted something floating in the water, and the current was bringing it toward my Robalo, equipped with a single Johnson 235 horsepower outboard engine. The thing in the water was white, but I couldn’t make out any details with my bare eyes. I got out the cheap catalog binoculars I kept on the boat just for such a find.

“It’s a cooler,” I said.

We all just watched as the tide, waves and wind did the work of bringing the cooler right to the boat. When it was within reach, Tomas grabbed it with a boat hook, and with Juan’s help they wrestled it aboard.

The four of us looked down at the cooler sitting in the belly of the boat.

“It’s taped shut,” Tomas said. “I bet there is a body in there”.

“Or drugs or money from drugs,” Juan ventured.

I took a filet knife and started cutting, and when I had cut it completely around, I said, “Get ready to see somebody’s ex-wife or more money than you have ever seen in your life”.

I opened the cooler and to our surprise there was a bundle inside two garbage bags, both of which had been taped shut. I went to work again with my filet knife, cutting the bags away, and soon the contents were exposed. The bundle contained many kilos of cocaine, forty-four to be exact, which was one hundred pounds of grade a caliber toot.

“Let’s cut one open and try it,” Tomas suggested.

“Let’s not be hasty,” I said. “I think we should take a break and talk this over. We need a game plan about what to do with this stuff.” I spread my hands over the loot.

“He’s got a point,” Roberto said. “This is some serious shit.”

“Okay,” Juan agreed, “but I need another beer.” He turned to the dwindling stash of bottles. “Anyone else?”

All three of us said yes, and after Juan passed out the drinks, we sat in a circle with the cocaine in the center.

“Any of you thinking of turning this stuff in to the authorities back on shore?” I asked, needing to know who stood where.

“Hmmm,” Roberto said, rubbing his chin which was shadowed with a day old beard.

“Uhhh,” Tomas said.

Juan coughed then took a gulp of beer.

“I see we’re on the same page,” I noted, feeling it was my duty to point out the obvious. “If we keep this stuff and get caught, we’ll be facing the risk of a thirty-year sentence. If we turn it in, the feds will just think we’re really honest or really stupid, or both, but we won’t be on the wrong side of the law.

“You know that this stuff is probably worth ten million cut fifty per cent, which would be, oh, two and half million each.” I paused to let reality sink in, and by my buddies’ expressions, I had their undivided attention. “I suggest that we proceed by taking a vote on whether we want to risk jail time. But first, we cannot open one up and then decide to keep it, and second, we need to get our stories straight before we go on. You know, we have to be singing from the same sheet of music.”  I paused before throwing in my final demand. “And just so you all know, I will not be involved unless I am in charge of the goods. And that means that none of us can use any of the toot personally until we sell what needs to be sold. Everybody needs to agree on these terms or I am out.”

There was along silent pause.

“Why should we let you take charge?” Juan finally asked.

I gave him a dark look.

“No offense, I’m just asking,” Juan added.

“No offense taken,” I replied “I’m the logical choice—I own the Robalo, I have a wife and two kids—I have the most to lose.”  I looked around at my three friends, two of whom were married with no kids as yet and one divorced, struggling to make a house payment on top of rent for his apartment. They couldn’t argue with my logic.

In the end, they all three agreed to let me take charge of this new venture.

“Okay. This is the way it’s going to go down,” I said. “We leave the toot unopened and in the middle of the boat, so if we’re stopped on the way in, we can truthfully tell our story of how we came upon the cooler. Of course we will add that we were going to turn it in at the Coast Guard Headquarters for the reward, which we heard is one thousand dollars an ounce.”

“Good,” Roberto said.

“Got it,” Tomas added.

Juan nodded his head vigorously as he chugged down another beer. Thank the good Lord he wasn’t a chatty drunk and would most likely fall asleep when we hit dry land.

I started up the motor and pointed the bow toward the shore.  Once we made it to the Miami River, we would be home free, for it was a short ride my house and dock. We’d then make a plan going forward.

All went well, and we arrived at my house without incident. We unloaded and took everything to my garage, telling my wife Lucia that we had gotten skunked. We would normally stop to buy fresh fish on the way home and claim that we caught it, but today I didn’t want to take a chance by stopping by my favorite fish market.

We held a short meeting inside my garage, and all were in agreement not to tell anyone of their find, not even their ex-wives and agreed not to make a move until I got the cut. We all knew that if we played our cards right, it would mean several million dollars for us, and if not, it could mean thirty years in jail. No one could talk or brag about it for sure!

Roberto and Juan worked for an air conditioning company and spent their time on the road making house calls and repairing air conditioners. Tomas was a plumber and did the same. I was a plastic salesman, selling plastic drain pipe to counties and cities. In other words, we were all just middle class Americans with wives, kids and house and car payments when we found the cooler full of toot.

We made plans to go fishing the following Sunday and discuss what we would do next. It was another sunny Florida day, and out at sea we came up with a plan. I had purchased Lactose from several stores in different areas to cut the toot with. With a fifty per cent cut we could make twice as much. We came up with a test plan to move the toot. I had brought a gram of toot with me and we tried it to see if it was still the best, or by cutting it back little by little. After trying it we agreed that the sample that was cut fifty per cent w
ould fly.

We set up plans to find outlets for sales, and all agreed that if one of us took a bust that the rest of us would bail them out of jail and obtain a known attorney for their defense. Our story would be that the goods had been bought on the street from a dealer, and we made a pact that we would not roll over on each other. I would continue to hold and cut the cocaine, and Tomas, Roberto and Juan would handle the sales. The profits or losses would be split evenly among us.

The next week we started working on our appointed tasks. Roberto, Tomas and Juan lined up several sales. We agreed not to have any guns with us, because that could possibly be another charge and a separate bust if we got caught. Our rules were no guns and only one of us was to be out selling on the same day as to prevent all going down at the same time. It was a perfect set up as Roberto, Tomas and Juan all had a reason to be going to homes and carrying in their “tools.”

The toughest contact was the first. We kept in touch by phone as we had been calling each other for years, and it would be more suspect to stop at this point.

The first several sales per man went well and on schedule. Only COD was accepted, and we never went with anyone without checking them out carefully. The agreement was that if any of the buyers got busted we would quit right then and there, so their rollover would not snag us. And they would roll over, of that you can be sure!

Soon we were moving more and taking in eighty thousand per month with no big change in lifestyle, no big boats, new cars, or new houses. We were to just keep buying hamburger for now.

The only luxury I allowed myself was a girlfriend. I had been eyeing a beautiful brunette with milk chocolate skin. She worked at a hotel I had checked into one night when I was too drunk to drive home. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, so I decided to stay over in town in the middle of the week. She was at the check-in desk, and I waited until she could help me.

“Nice to see you again, sir,” she said. Her nametag said Rihanna from The Bahamas. Her skin was
like silk coco, not nearly as dark as my ebony black.

“Call me Geraldo,” I said with a certain smile.

Something in my voice must have told her I was interested in her as a woman.

“I was hoping you’d come back, Geraldo,” she replied softly. Her dark eyes held distinct interest and a promise of beautiful things to come.

And come they did. She knocked on my door just after midnight. I was waiting for her with a glass of wine and wearing nothing. One look from her beautiful eyes had me hard, and she dropped to her knees and began kissing me in places my wife had never even touched.

I was ready for her, more than ready. She stood and stripped out of her skirt and blouse which was when I discovered she didn’t wear panties, and she didn’t need a bra for her full round breasts. They stood upright and ready for my mouth. I tossed back the rest of my wine and dropped the glass on the carpet.

I fell onto the bed on my back, pulling her on top of me. I latched onto one breast and suckled it, then I did the same to the other until her nipples were wet and turgid. While I teased her breasts, she kneeled on top of me, bringing her womanhood down hard on my erection, impaling herself on my hardness.

We came at the same time, me shoving my face into her shoulder and she biting my neck. We rode the waves of passion several more times in the next hour, until she said she had to get back to work.

“When can I see you again, Rihanna?”

“Same time, same day next week,” she said in her husky voice with that cute English accent of hers. I wanted to fuck her again right then and there, but she was already at the door. “Oh, and I like presents, especially jewelry.” She blew me a kiss and was gone.

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.


Not long after I started seeing Rihanna, Juan said one of his customers wanted to move up to half a pound. I could use the money because Rihanna was costing me lots in jewelry.

We all discussed it and decided he was a good risk for us. We had Juan go ahead with the deal. We made one hundred sixty thousand that month and still had ninety per cent of the cocaine left.

After a few months passed, we were making four to five hundred thousand a month, and it started to show on us. We were spending more time at tittie bars; there were new cars and better clothes. I never told my wife, but I paid all the bills off, and we suddenly had money for things that we’d had to struggle to get before.

I was spending more time away from home, lots of nights at my favorite hotel, which was starting to cost
way too much. I asked Rihanna if she’d like to quit her job at the hotel. I offered her an apartment with all utilities paid and a car for her personal use. She squealed with delight and gave me an afternoon delight I’ll never forget. The girl was insatiable and so was I, with a little help from the toot.

One day Tomas’ wife Carmen called me and said she had gotten a visit from two men who said they wanted “the rest.” She said that they had guns, so she convinced them she did not know what they were talking about. Before they left, they said that they had Tomas and that she should get in touch with his friends. They wanted two hundred fifty thousand for his safe return.

I met with Roberto and Juan at Tomas’ home that night. Carmen said knew all about the cooler and the money we had made from the contents.

“So,” I said. “Do your wives know about the cooler, too?”

They didn’t have to answer; they just nodded their heads sheepishly.

“So, I’m the only one who hasn’t told his wife,” I said. “I wonder how these blackmailers found out about us?”

Carmen interrupted and reminded me that the kidnappers would call at midnight with instructions on how to make the drop of a quarter million dollars. They knew that we would not be calling the cops or the FBI, because then our drug operation would be out in the open. We’d go to jail along with the kidnappers!

The phone rang at exactly midnight.

“We know where Tomas lives. We’ll come to his house at three tomorrow afternoon. You’d better have the money because if you don’t, you’ll never see your friend again.” They hung up without saying whether they’d bring Tomas with them or not.

We stayed the night at Tomas’ house. I told Roberto and Juan to take the spare bedroom, and I took the couch, so as to keep an eye on things. In the morning, Carmen fixed us breakfast, serving eggs with strong hot Cuban coffee.

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