Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin (6 page)

CHAPTER 7

After a week of diving and jet skiing, we got two slips in Bimini Sands side by side and slipped the boats there so we could sight-see South Bimini Town. 

We left our golf carts at the landing where they sell conch fritters. Proper South Bimini is only
two thousand acres or so. The main island can be toured all in one day. One man bought eight hundred acres, tore down all the houses and built a large marina for boats up to two hundred feet. He also built several hundred condos and houses. I wondered where he’d gotten his money.

The six of us made the rounds of Bimini Town and had lunch at the Big Game Fish Club. Coke could be found anywhere in town, and given my past, I was aware of the buy sites.

By now Maria and Teo were in their early teens. I’d seen too many kids with poor judgment fall under the influence of illegal drugs, so I thought it best to keep them on our own island as much as possible. I wanted them to keep their innocence as long as possible.

Angel and I talked about where to travel next, and decided on Miami. The crossing was only forty-two miles, and on Friday night or Sunday afternoon the ocean looked like a freeway with boats and jet skis going and coming to Bimini. We left on a Thursday to avoid the weekend traffic.

At twenty miles out on the flats, we caught sight of a twenty foot center console with the engine covers off. We saw four men on the deck. I called my friends on their boats following close behind, and after some discussion over the radio, we decided to pull over to offer assistance, staying together for safety. As a precaution, I got out a belt feed machine gun.

We pulled up to the center console about one hundred feet aft, and the captain hailed to ask if we could help.

Suddenly two men grabbed an RPG each. “You can turn this from a simple robbery to a murder at sea, take your pick.”

I knew that if they ever got aboard they would kill us all and use the boats for smuggling drugs, because nobody stops to search a one-hundred footer out at sea.

That thought went through my head in a heartbeat, and in the second heartbeat, I turned the SAW (machine gun) loose at the center console and the two men holding the RPG’s. I shot the whole magazine under the gun which was one hundred rounds. The four pirates hit the deck of their boat as the water around their vessel came alive with shells hitting the sea, boat and men, too.

As I reloaded, I heard shots coming from the Bayliner, their ammunition hitting the center console. The pirate boat started taking on water.

We figured most of the men were dead or wounded because no shots came our way from the pirate boat as we sped away, leaving the attack boat to sink—fair treatment for pirates who would kill us all given a chance.

Both our boats had a top end of around twenty knots, so we were about three hours from our next port.

Almost an hour later the Bayliner called me on the radio .

“I see four high-speed boats coming our way, so get all your guns ready!” Bob yelled. “Get Angel and the kids down in the main salon. If the pirates get on board, we all die. I’m setting my autopilot for the cut to Miami at twelve knots. You should the same and arm the captain and crew.”

After arming everybody and setting the radar and autopilot, I called Bob back on the radio.

“Let’s use the cell phones from now on so we can’t be heard, and don’t worry about the RPGs. They won’t take the chance of burning the boats.”

When he called back on the phone, I said, “Don’t shoot until we know it’s not just fishermen, then kill them all.”

We didn’t have to wait long as one of the boats let several shots go that hit the Bayliner. We all opened fire. Our boats would be no good at the bottom of the ocean or full of bullet holes.

As the attackers got within one hundred yards, they spoke to us over the radio, trying to assure us that they were simple pirates and only wanted to rob us.

I yelled to Angel to get the kids down below near the engines, a place no attacker will shoot at, for the boat was the prize and w
ould be no use to them without working engines.

We knew they wanted the boat, and that they would kill us all to get it. We answered with boxes of bullets. They shot at both boats, and between the four boats attacking us, they must have had twenty guns. The shooting never let up.

We were safe on our big boat even as hundreds of bullets tore through it, as it was so big that we just moved and fired.

One of their boats with three outboards on it went dead in the water, and the men from that boat transferred to one of the others.

From our height and vantage point we were killing people right and left, when all of a sudden the Bayliner aft deck exploded. Within a second our main salon exploded, too.

I called Bob who reassured me that he was OK and had no fires on board. My boat, on the other hand, was flying apart.

The three pirate boats that were left were two or three times faster than our bigger vessels, so they could literally run circles around us. It was very hard to hit anybody or their engines because they were so fast and kept one hundred yards out or so and never quit moving. One of them was in front one minute, then in back the next, all the time firing at us. We never quit shooting at them, either.

My boat was running out of ammunition, for the four AR-15 rifles and the SAW had been out for a long time. We were down to four 9-mm pistols with two seventeen-round clips each.

I called Bob, who said he was in the same situation as us. I told him we were going to make every shot count and only shoot when they get close enough for us to take their people out.

Bob said he was going to do the same.

For some reason no more RPG’s came our way. Just then a burst of gunfire passed through the main salon, raising havoc, throwing wood and parts of furniture in the air, causing a cloud that lingered as the next pirate boat did the same thing.

As it passed in the same circle as the first, I released four 223 rifle shots and killed one of the men on the second boat. Bob called and said he had less than a full clip for one of his rifles left. I told him I had two.

All this time the pirate boats kept circling and shooting at us like we were in the old movies where Indians would run circle around of wagon trains. I felt like we were sitting ducks.

I didn’t have time to check on Angel and
the kids as I was running from room to room shooting to make them think there were more of us than there were. As I ran, bullets flew through all parts of the boat; splinters were everywhere.

The three smaller attack boats stopped in a gathering to one side of us, then without any warning they turned toward Bimini and sped off.

“What was that all about?” Bob asked when he called.

“Don’t know,” I said. “I’m just damned glad they stopped when they did. Let’s continue on until we see the cut for Miami. We’ll have to stop and rafted together to look at the damage and get our stories straight.”

We had to contact the Coast Guard as both boats had hundreds and hundreds of holes in them, and my boat had big black marks on the side and signs of a small fire on top.

The Coast Guard met us before the cut and took our statements and lots of pictures. We then continued to Miami Marina where we spent the night. We had marina people come out to assess the damage.

Both boats would be out of the water a month. I thought this would be a big problem for me and my family. Little did I know it would be a big problem for Bob and Karen, too.

If the Mexicans found out I was here, we all would die. If the street gang found out Bob and Karen were here they would die, or maybe all of us would die. We had to turn the boats over for repairs and leave for a month.

First we had to deal with the rest of the questions from the Coast Guard and any reports they may want before the boats could be moved. Every day brought out a constant parade of people and cameras to see the two boats that had been attacked by pirates on the way to Miami. Newspaper reporters took pictures of everything, and I had to make sure I wasn’t in their view. I let Bob and Karen tell the story of the running gun fight.

After two days and many interviews and pictures taking, the Coast Guard and DEA were done getting the info they needed.

Every day hundreds of tourists walk down to the boats and took pictures. One day I called my old attorney on my Trac-fone, telling him that I was in New York and asked him if he’d heard anything. He said there were lots of people found dead when I first disappeared, and they blew up my house, but it had been quiet for months and months now.

Both Angel and I wanted to see the old house, so I rented a car and settled the kids by the hotel pool, paying a hotel employee to keep an eye on them. We didn’t want the kids traumatized any more than they already were.

At the house location we could not get through the gate and didn’t want to, but we could see part of the house from there. It had been blown up and burned all right, at least from what we could see.

We went back to the marina, and decided to have lunch at the Hard Rock. We had a quiet meal together. When we got back to the hotel, I called the marina and decorator and was told it would be closer to three months not weeks to complete repairs.

Angel and I agreed that we didn’t want to stick around. We might run into someone who would recognize us from our past life.

“Let’s pack up anything we can’t replace, just take clothes for a couple of days. We’ll buy new wherever we land. That way everything can fit in the Escalade,” I told her. “We’ll leave tomorrow, early.”

In the morning we said goodbye to Bob and Karen. We arranged to meet them at the Key West Hilton Marina come August first or so. I was sad to part with them, as we’d been through some harrowing times together.

We drove to Jackson, Mississippi, making one stop for new ID’s for the entire family.

Once again, we had to come up with new names, ones we could remember. Our cover had been blown under two identities, and I’m sure the Mexicans would be looking for me under both aliases.

So we were now Mr. and Mrs. Hernando Cruz. I wasn’t sure if Angel, now Ana, knew that Hernando meant journey prepared, which pretty much summed up my life these days. Maria became Ria and Teo turned into Ted.

We went into Texas where we traded the Escalade for an RV, a top of the line Prevost forty-footer with all the trimmings topping in at one and a half million dollars.  I even took a class to learn how to drive and park it, always keeping safety in mind.

After a week of getting the forty foot diesel pusher, tow bar and a new RX-7 set up, we headed out for parts unknown. The family liked the gypsy part of this adventure, and I was relaxed, happy not to have somebody trying to kill me twenty four/seven.

We decided to head to Las Vegas where I knew we could blend in with the other millions of RVs on the road.

On the way to Vegas we took our time and spent the nights here and there so we could sight see. In Vegas there were things to do for the kids and for us that were beyond belief, from carnival stuff to Broadway style productions.

We were having so much fun we stayed two weeks and then headed to Lake Mead where we rented a house boat. We’d been missing the water and all the sports that it offered. As usual, we paid cash, not wanting to leave a paper trail.

In Brownsville, Texas we found an RV park for the Prevost, and I started looking for a one hundred foot boat with a captain and crew.

It took longer than I thought to settle on a boat. I finally bought a fairly new Hargreaves one hundred and one footer and had to find a captain, cook and crew of two for it. I couldn’t use my old captain, because he was probably being followed on the outside chance that I contacted him. Even though we have been through so much together I dare not try it because my kids’ lives depend on it.

Ana and I redecorated our suite on the boat with new carpet and furniture. We hired a captain and his wife and gave them cash to decorate the yacht as they wanted with a boat credit card that had a two hundred fifty thousand dollar limit. We then headed off to Six Flags with the kids who were looking forward to scaring me to death riding roller coasters.

While Ana and the kids had fun, I had to find guns and ammo. I wanted six AR-16s with four thirty round clips each and six big clip 9-mm pistols with two seventeen round clips each, all new of course with lots of shells. We spent the next month around Six Flags, and I got everything I needed, and the kids went to every park there was.

Finally we headed back to the new yacht. When everyone got settled, I met with the captain and went over the boat and the changes he’d made while we were gone, about three hundred grand in total
.

CHAPTER 8

We pulled out in the morning and headed for Key West for our rendezvous with Bob and Karen. This one hundred one Hargreaves was only twelve feet longer than my last boat but had a lot more room, and the new Hargreaves only drew three inches more draft than the old one and was about the same top speed wise and fuel consumption.

It took five days to get to the Keys. When we pulled into the Hilton Marina, we took the first slip that would fit our boat. We went to the outside bar for lunch and looked for Bob and Karen. They were nowhere in sight.

I went to the dock master and found out what slip they had taken. When I got back to the table, Bob and Karen were there and we all laughed about missing one another.

When lunch was over, we took them to see our new yacht. Karen wanted to see everything, so Ana give her a tour, while Bob and I settled in for a drink and the Cuban cigars we both loved so much. I had to fill Bob in on our new identities, which was no problem to him, and apparently Ana did the same with Karen, so
they had no trouble remembering all our new names.

We made plans for dinner that night at a place where we could take the kids
. Bob and Karen were good with them, speaking to Ria and Ted as if they were adults, which they loved, being teenagers now.

We got back to our boat just after midnight and made plans for the next day. I was still in the mode to get a sitter for the kids, but they protested, saying they were old enough to stay by themselves. I finally relented, telling them this was a trial and that they would have to stay by the pool or on the boat.

We four adults went bar hopping, trying out different appetizers between drinks. About two the next day at our third bar something happened that turned my hair white. A man walked up to me and said, “Do you know who I am”?

All of a sudden it got silent. “No,” I said, but I knew.

“My name is Carlos and I work for your competitor, and he will be surprised to hear you’re in Florida. He will want to find you right away.” Then he turned while dialing a number on his phone and walked into the crowded street.

Bob and Karen looked confused but not my wife. She knew.

I threw a hundred on the bar and said to the bartender, “Keep the change.”

Bob and Karen followed us out the door. “Hey, what’s going on?” Bob asked.

“Can’t tell you. We have to get back to the boat.”

We hailed two bike rickshaws and left for the hotel. We found the kids at the pool and told them they had to get back to the boat, pronto. They protested, but a quick word from their mother, and they hurried to obey.

I told the captain to make ready to cast off. “We’re leaving as soon as possible.”

To my surprise the captain asked, “Is it something dangerous that involves gun play? I didn’t sign up for none of that.”

“It’s not dangerous but the people I ran into are bad people, and my family is in danger now,” I said.

“I guess here’s where we part company, and I might as well tell you before I leave. I found by accident the new guns and thousands of rounds of ammo you have hidden on this boat. I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t care to. But I’m quitting for violation of my contract.”

He and his wife were off the boat in less than an hour. Before they left I gave them twenty thousand dollars and told them to keep their mouths shut.

Now I was in a pickle and had to find a capable captain who could run a one-hundred footer. Just as I was calling the hotel, Bob and Karen come in. I told them the story about the captain walking off the job.

“I can run this boat,” Bob said, surprising the hell out of me.

I gave him a hard look. “We have to leave now and get out to sea. And Bob, I have lots of guns and ammo on board.” When he didn’t blink an eye, I added, “If you run the boat for six months and leave your boat here I will give you five hundred thousand dollars plus pay for the upkeep for the boats. plus I will pay you and Karen double the going rate per month But we must leave in the next hour.”

Bob looked at Karen and back at me and again at his wife, then turned to me and stuck out his hand.

I shook his hand and said, “Let’s go.”

We left in an hour counting loading their clothes and some essential belongings from their boat to ours.

I didn’t relax until we got out to sea where I could see for miles in all directions, reassuring me that no one was chasing us.

We cruised the rest of the day at ten knots and toward dark Captain Bob went under Seven Mile Bridge to a marina he had contacted that had a slip open on the “T” of one dock, “Bay Side Marina.”

As we pulled in, a
guy who turned out to be the owner came down to help us tie up and check in. A half dozen or so people from other boats helped out also, as boat people are generally helpful and gregarious.

Later that night over drinks Captain Bob told me the complete story and history of Bay Side Marina and all the people who were found dead over the years. This bay was into smuggling drugs like Florida City had been into smuggling grass in days gone by. A couple of boaters had been here for fifteen or twenty years and had seen it all.

We were only going to stay at Bay Side for two or three days, then go north. After hearing everybody’s stories, we left and took the outside up to Ft. Lauderdale. Captain Bob got us a slip at a marina seven miles up New River on County Road 84 or Marina Mile as it’s called. Marina Bay was fairly new with two hundred plus slips, four hundred apartments, a gym, a restaurant, a bar and many more amenities. It was a good place, a safe place, especially for the kids, and most of all, it wasn’t Miami. We would be safe for two or three months, then it would be summer again so we could move on.

In several months we got to know the people on the dock and felt at ease. We rarely had people on board though, as that was where the kids were tutored and was our home.

One day Captain Bob came to me and told me my son had slipped up and told his playmates that he had a fake name.

“If your boy slips up and the wrong person hears that, we could be toast,” Bob said.
“I’m not getting paid enough to put my life in the hands of a kid.” 

He said he had to sleep on
the question of staying with me or not, plus he wanted to talk things over with Karen, whose life was also on the line.

The next morning over coffee he said
he was in, but he and Karen deserved to be compensated properly for the risks they’d be taking. He wanted a million dollars every six months not five hundred thousand.

I
agreed and gave him a check from my boat account. He also said I must talk to my boy to make sure he didn’t repeat that mistake again.

All went well for two months, then summer started to creep forward. It was time to leave, and I decided to head for Mazatlan, Mexico and spend a few months there.
Within a couple of days of getting there, a well-dressed American walked over to the side of my boat and asked to talk to me.

When I came to the gang plank I asked him quietly, “What can I do for you?”

He handed me a card that indicated he was an attorney.

“Well, Mr. Blair, what can I do for you?”

“I would rather get off the dock and talk in private to you. It concerns Miami and who you are.”

We just stood there and looked at each other for a minute or two and did not say a word. Then I broke the silence and invited him on board to talk.

I poured him a glass of vodka on the rocks and we sat in the main salon facing each other. 

“What do you want and how can I help you?” I opened the conversation.

“I have a client that’s a Mexican company, and though it is located in Texas, they have offices in every state in the U.S., especially Florida and the east coast, including New York. My point is, they want you to be in charge of a certain, ah, thing. For them, this one thing, and all is forgiven. You can walk away afterward.”

As we looked at each other I said, “Continue.”

“You do understand that your and your family’s lives depend on your answer.”

“What if this one deal is unsuccessful?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he said, “It’s trying that counts. So what’s it going to be? Should I tell you, or do you want to take your chances with the other thing?”

“I’m in.”

“The cartel will call your slate clean if you raid the DEA warehouse in Tucson where they have tons of grass and thousands of pounds of cocaine and meth, plus one hundred guns and twenty well-armed men.”

After he finished telling me all this I said, “You must be shitting me. This is a suicide mission. None of the stash houses for the DEA have ever been hit and there’s a reason for that. It’s called twenty men wearing SWAT gear, AR-15s and big clip side arms, cameras and fences, etc, etc, etc.”

When I was finished he calmly said, “We know all that. That’s why they sent me to talk to you instead of a hit team for everyone aboard. So fly to Tucson and we’ll have a man meet you that’s been watching the warehouse for months with the layout and schedule. Say I meet you here in two weeks. Call me if you need me.”

And I showed him to the dock. Later that day I made a first class reservation to Tucson, AZ for a one week stay and got the hotel and rental car set up. Upon arriving in Tucson, I called the number of the man here to meet me
, and we drove to the DEA warehouse.

After spending several hours looking things over and picking the brain of the Tucson contact I went back to the hotel to sit and think. Later that night I drove out to the warehouse again and just watched the comings and goings at it. There wasn’t much activity at night and none after midnight.

By what I saw, the warehouse must be taken at night. The problem would be the night people and their cell phones. Somehow they must be taken by total surprise or put to sleep. There were cameras and lights on all sides and on the building that was on the corner. Their eighteen-wheeler was parked in the yard waiting for the next load to go to the incinerator.

I came up with a plan that would work
— maybe but it needed an inside man or a tap on the cell phones and phone lines. I called the number on the card and set up a meeting with the attorney.

I told him at the meeting that I needed a few things that I could not get here. I need six men, all ex-soldiers, four RPGs and twelve rockets, seven M16s with six clips each, seven full sets of SWAT body armor that say DEA front and back including the helmets and a wiretap expert to tap the phone lines until we get the passwords etc. I need the phone line expert first about a month before the others. I will get apartments for them to stay in, cars, vans and so on.

At this point he asked, “Can you do this thing?”

I answered, “Yeah, you bet. It’s hard but they are all fat and lazy and secure in their feelings. They are safe because they are cops. Get me a wiretap expert and let’s see how secure they are.”

It took a month for the wiretap expert to arrive in Tucson. He came from New York and set up off a telephone pole a block or two away from the warehouse and could get all incoming and outgoing calls.

He had all we needed in two weeks so we could get past the night people with passwords.

When the night came, I dressed in old street clothes, then headed out to organize my setup. I put my people in the van and took two in my car where I cuffed them together as my fake prisoners. The rest of my team wore the DEA SWAT team black armor suits. They went to the gate and called in using the passwords, saying we had two prisoners and several hundred pounds of cocaine.

The gate opened
, and we drove into the loading dock. We unloaded my decoy prisoners, and all five of us started walking toward the two real DEA guards holding M16s.

It was easy to
disarmed them, and as we cuffed them up, we ignored their cries of
you can’t do this we are cops, the DEA, and we’re protected by Homeland Security
.

I said, “Shut up and tell me how many others are here and where they are.” Then I hit him in the face
, breaking out several teeth.

The other one screamed, “You can’t do that to us, we are cops.”

I stepped up to him and said, “Oh yes I can and right now I am trying to decide whether to kill both of you or leave you tied up here. I haven’t decided yet, but if you lie to me or give me any shit I will kill you both slowly.

“No one’s here,” one of them replied
so I had them take off their outerwear which I gave to my two pretend prisoners who dressed in the real cops’ armor plated DEA clothes. I handed over the DE’’ RPGs to my guys, then we searched the place and cut the phone lines.

The warehouse was chock full so one of the men backed the eighteen-wheeler up to the loading dock and started to load pallet after pallet of cocaine and meth first, then pills and only then the grass. When it was full to the top I sent four men to take it to Rocky Point
to hide it.

The two
who stayed with me both had M16s plus an RPG each. I sent them to the van saying I would be there in minute, arriving where the two DEA agents were trussed up on the floor.