Lowcountry Punch Page 9

  The comment disgusted me. I was already tired of hearing that kind of thing about her, and I hadn’t even met her yet.

  “We’ve got a good list,” Chester agreed, “and I think we can take it far. We’re confident he’s picking up his shipments in Atlanta. The sooner you can get us a warrant to put a transmitter on his car, the better.”

  “Give me a few more days. Let’s get Reddick inside, and I’ll get you whatever you want. Home taps, Title III’s. So how exactly are you billing yourself?”

  “He wants to move a lot more cocaine than what he’s doing now, so I’m going to offer him access to the buyers in Savannah. I’ll build my relationship with him from there. Just need a reason to get into his life.”

  “Makes sense. You mentioned he might have additional sources. Any more details?”

  “That’s all we know,” Chester said, “that he’s been talking about a new project. No specifics.”

  “We think he’s using pay phones and disposables to make his calls,” I said. “He’s being very careful, very smart.”

  Cannon agreed. “He’s watching his back. Baroni, how tight you followin’ him?”

  “Not very. Like you said, let’s get Reddick undercover.”

  No matter how good you are, a person can always detect if he’s being followed. The thought starts to build subconsciously. That idea sounds like some sort of voodoo, but they teach it at Quantico. That’s why going undercover was better than tracking Jack’s moves from the outside.

  We discussed wiretaps and surveillance, Baroni and Cannon doing most of the talking, and then we moved on to Jack’s importing business, J.R. Imports. I handed Cannon a file folder.

  “This is everything we know so far,” I told him. “Mostly from public records and interviews with Kadopholous. It doesn’t appear that he’s importing anything illegal, but we’re going to run his next couple shipments through a VACUS to be sure. We’ll pull the seal if we have to.”

  A VACUS machine is a gamma-ray scanner similar to an X-ray machine but built to hold an entire container. Customs uses them to detect anything from drugs to weapons, and they let us use them whenever we ask. We have a much better relationship with Customs and the Coast Guard than we do with local police forces. It was that way in Miami, too. Even before I shot one of their own, Miami police didn’t like me.

  “He’s got one coming in from Lima tomorrow,” I continued. “Shipped by a guy named Belen Merino. He owns a little place called Anduba Teak right outside of the city. We’re looking into him.”

  “Let’s follow the next two or three loads before we let it go,” Cannon replied.

  We talked about how we thought Jack was running his business: where he was dumping his shipments, all of his clients, how he paid, what he did with the cash; and our thoughts and the risks involved with Kado. As he thumbed through the file, Cannon said, “So he cheated on his woman with Tela Davies, and she ran out on him? Poor bastard.”

  That’s right. Poor bastard.

  Back at the office, I got into a little trouble. I had been scrolling through my in-box when I noticed a great e-mail had snuck past my spam filter. I couldn’t resist having a little fun.

  A person named Napoleon Calhoun had sent a passionate e-mail to an address that included all DEA agents in South Carolina, North Carolina, and Georgia—the three states making up our sub-sector. Mr. Calhoun’s ability to track down such a mass e-mail address spoke to the DEA’s impenetrable security process.

  As with most of the spam that we get, the grammar was awful. The subject of the e-mail read: “Lengthen your male machine and women will love you long time.” I mean, who couldn’t open that and see what he had to say?

  Man, I discovered very amazing thing and want to inform you about it. Before I started to use this thing my male instrument was too small so small that I feel shy to speak about length. Now my life has changed. I enlarged my jang size, women like me too much that now I am glad.

  There is a part of me that can’t resist sometimes. I clicked the “Reply All” button, copying every agent in three states, and I addressed Mr. Napoleon Calhoun’s offer. I thought something brief could get my point across. I wrote:

  Hello, Napoleon. No shortage of dong in the DEA. Thanks for thinking of us.

  Now I guess the shameful part about it is that I really didn’t even have to think about whether to press Send or not. I couldn’t help it. It was like I was watching my body do something I knew I’d regret, but I had no control. I sent the e-mail and just waited, like throwing a boomerang into the darkness.

  I had my door open and in less than a minute, I heard the first laugh and my smile stretched. Then there were more laughs and then I was staring Steve in the face. “Love the suspenders,” I said. I popped some fake ones running down my chest.

  He pointed his finger at me. “Get in my office,” he said.

  I held up my hands. “What did I do?”

  “Don’t say another word. Get your ass up.”

  I obeyed. As soon as the door closed, he said, “What were you thinking?”

  “I really couldn’t help it.”

  “Yeah, you could. You know how many people are gonna see that?”

  “A lot.”

  “Damn right, a lot. I’m not saying it wasn’t funny as hell, but it’s not worth it. You’re doing some good around here. Don’t ruin it. They’ll suspend you in a second these days. You think they care you’re going undercover tomorrow?”

  “No, sir.” I could tell he wasn’t that mad. He was just going through the motions of being the boss. He had a smile hidden back there somewhere. “You think I could get one of those toothpicks?” I asked. “Are they the cinnamon kind? I really like those.”

  “Get out of here.” I apologized again and went back to my desk. I could still hear laughter coming from the other agents.

  14

  The first meeting when you are undercover is like walking out on stage. Only you have to worry about being shot.

  The place was Poe’s on Sullivan’s Island, a Bahamian-style bar a few blocks from the beach with good burgers and cold beer. Kado and Jack sat at a table in the corner of the patio in the open air drinking Stella Artois out of gold-rimmed glasses. I could smell the ocean in the air as I stepped onto the patio. I only saw one empty chair in the place, the one between Kado and Jack. My team was in a carpet cleaning van half a block down.

  All eyes on you. Make a mistake and you can lose your life.

  Kado waved me over, and Jack turned his chair around to get his first glimpse of me. Right away I saw something I hadn’t picked up on from the pictures. His eyes were full and bright: the eyes of ambition.

  I crossed the room and offered my hand.

  “Travis Moody,” I said.

  Jack rose. “Jack Riley,” he said, shaking my hand. He was a handsome guy, about my height, six feet or so, and he had a head full of curly blonde hair. He wore a tight sky-blue polo with the collar turned up, like he had a Polo match and a Regatta to attend after this luncheon. I guess owning an art gallery tends to exacerbate your flair.

  He turned my wrist. “That’s a good watch. Nothing as classy as an IWC.” There was still a little bit of New York in his accent, lingering from his childhood.

  “I agree,” I said. “My father gave it to me.”

  I sat down and turned to Kado, giving him a hit on the leg. “How’s it going, buddy?”

  “Not bad.” He didn’t have much to say. The nerves were eating him up. I had to make the best of it. I turned to Jack.

  “Let’s get to know each other,” he said. “We’ll talk business once we leave.” Some casual conversation followed. The waitress brought me a beer and took our orders. I ordered a Black Cat, medium rare, which was a burger with homemade pimento cheese, chili, and bacon. I asked her if it came with a treadmill and a Lipitor, and it cracked her and Jack up.

  Then, not thirty feet away, something right out of a bad dream happened. Stephanie came strolling onto the property, wa
lking through the little picket fence gate. I had to conceal an explosion of panic. My jaw tightened. How the hell had this happened? I put my elbows on the table and hid my face as best as I could without being obvious. Jack was saying something about the mayor, and I was doing my best to pay attention, but my first concern was her. Had she followed me? What were her intentions?

  She took the steps and grabbed a stool that someone happened to be abandoning near the bar. She spoke to the bartender for a moment and then settled in, looking around, analyzing her surroundings like a lion looking for prey. She still hadn’t looked our way, at least not as far as I could tell.

  The burgers came. I told Jack about my financial planning business. Kado and I ran through our spiel, how I had dated his sister in high school for a couple months and how we hadn’t seen each other until only a few months earlier. I only glanced at Stephanie from time to time. She was drinking a beer and looking out toward the road, watching the beachgoers strolling by with chairs and coolers in their hands.

  On our way out the door, I looked at her one last time. She quickly averted her eyes. I had a feeling she knew exactly what she was doing, and she was flirting with screwing up one of the most important operations in my career.

  Jack didn’t bring up the business regarding the cocaine until we were in the parking lot next to his Land Rover.

  “Let’s take a ride,” he said. I nodded. Kado got behind the wheel and I climbed in the backseat with Jack. There was a tackle box in between us. Jack patted me down once the doors closed, and he was thorough. Exactly why I had declined wearing a wire. I wasn’t there to bust him. Not yet. I was there to become his friend and find out where he was getting his powder.

  “You a cop?” he asked.

  I looked him in the eyes. “No. Are you?”

  He ignored me. “So you’ve got Savannah dialed in?”

  “Completely. I know who I can trust down there.”

  “We’ve never let anyone else in on this. Because Kado vouches for you, I’m gonna give you a shot. We’ll start slow and see what happens. Know that if we sense something is off, we’ll come after you. I might seem like a nice guy, but don’t underestimate me. I don’t play nice.”

  “Understood.” I don’t like threats, but I had to let it go. It wasn’t easy.

  “Good. You seem like you’re all right.”

  We discussed the details, driving all the way to the end of the island and back, and then they dropped me off at my green Toyota truck, a loaner from the Columbia field office. I shook Jack’s hand one last time, thinking that other than Stephanie showing up, the meeting had gone well. I could make him like me. Make him trust me. Never had the spotlight shined so bright. No way could I let a woman I barely knew destroy the progress I’d made.

  I needed to talk to Stephanie.

  Stephanie lived in a ranch-style brick three bedroom in West Ashley, about a thirty-minute drive from the island. I parked and walked up to her door. The grass hadn’t been cut in a while. Nothing but dirt in the pots on the steps.

  “Did you bring your handcuffs, baby?” she asked, cracking the door. She was nude. I pushed the door open and grabbed her arm. “Go put some clothes on. You’re in trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “You know damn well why. You followed me. I’m working on a case, Stephanie.”

  “Are you going to cuff me?” She held out her hands.

  “They’re on the way here to arrest you for tampering with a Federal investigation. They’ll drag you out butt-ass naked if you want it that way.”

  “I didn’t know what you were doing. I was going for a burger!”

  “Bullshit.”

  I stormed inside. She followed me into the living room. A Tela Davies movie played on the television. I took a fleece blanket off the couch and threw it at her. “Wrap that around you.” She did.

  “I’ll ask you one more time,” I said. “You can tell me or you can tell an officer downtown. How did you end up there? Did you follow me?”

  She didn’t say anything. I thought of something and walked back out to my truck. I searched around looking for a transponder. I was thinking she had me marked with a real-time GPS. You can buy them anywhere these days. Didn’t find anything. I stomped back inside, breathing heavier than normal.

  She was crouched against the wall in the foyer, crying. “I love you. It hurts so bad.”

  “C’mon. You hardly know me.”

  “I know enough.”

  “What I know is that there will never be an us. If you will assure me that you’ll stay out of my life, I will keep them from putting you in jail. If it happens again, I can’t help you. You could really get hurt. This is not a joke.”

  We spoke for a while, and I was honest and real with her, explaining that we had no future. She admitted that she had followed me earlier. They teach us to watch our backs, and I was more than disappointed in myself for not picking up her tail. I didn’t bother bringing up how my boat got untied, but after today, I was pretty sure it was her. I made it very clear to her the lengths I would have to go to keep her out of trouble for the day’s debacle. She promised me I wouldn’t see her again.

  From there, I drove to Savannah to begin my new life as Travis Moody. But with love in the air, I couldn’t totally abandon my old life. Liz and I talked for more than an hour that night, and so much of me wanted to get back on the highway and wrap my arms around her.

  15

  The next day, I picked up a bucket of chicken and a twelve-pack of Pacifico on the way home from a meet and greet with the Savannah DEA. Good news had just come my way. They’d caught the two men who kidnapped me. A black and white had attempted to pull them over for a minor traffic violation in Fairfax, Virginia. The two men made a run for it but ended up slamming themselves into a ditch. Now, they were in a police van riding all the way back, facing charges of kidnapping and assault. It was good news, but I also knew it didn’t bring us any closer to Tux Clinton. They were two of his best men, and they would certainly do time for him.

  The streetlights came on as I walked down the sidewalk and took the steps up to the weathered white porch of my apartment. I fumbled for my keys, and as I stuck the key in the door, I noticed the shadow of a man leaning on a rail on the far end of the porch.

  Ronnie Downs, one of Jack’s runners, stepped into the light, the Clemson Tigers hat on his head casting a shadow over his eyes. Ronnie had swimmer’s muscles and looked agile for his large frame. Had to be the pick of his litter.

  I wasn’t supposed to know what he looked like so I acted accordingly. “Can I help you?” I turned toward him, leaving the keys dangling in the door.

  “I’m a friend of Jack’s. You Travis Moody?”

  “The hell you doing on my porch?” I put down the beer and bucket of chicken. I didn’t expect a visit that early in the game, and it occurred to me that I may have left the case file on my bed. Couldn’t remember putting it away. These guys weren’t messing around.

  “I’m told we’ll be working together,” he said.

  “I’ve never heard of you.”

  “We can call Jack right now. I came down to check you out. I’m either coming in, or you won’t be doing any business with us. You got something to hide?”

  “You let people into your house you don’t know?”

  “I just wanna come inside and look around for a minute. No need to get defensive. We can call Jack. He asked me to come down. You think we’re going into business with someone without checking ‘em out?”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “We got ways.”

  I nodded. “I guess you’re coming in. What’d you say your name was?”

  “Ronnie Downs.” He stuck out his hand but I didn’t shake it. I picked up the beer and chicken and kicked open the door so it swung around and hit the inside wall. He followed me. The hardwood creaked below our feet. “I won’t do this again,” Ronnie promised.

  I set my dinner and the keys on the tall table in the fo
yer. “All right.”

  “I tell you what, though, you try to mess with us and we’ll bury you.”

  You don’t talk to T.A. Reddick that way. I shut the door hard and the glass panes nearly shattered. I got up in his face and grabbed him where it counted. He bent over in pain, and I said calmly, “Do what you need to do and get out. Don’t threaten me again.” I let go of him, and standing straight again, he jerked a pistol out from his waistline and brought it toward my chest.

  I deflected his up-swinging arm and simultaneously pushed the barrel of the gun up toward his face and sideways. A move I learned years ago, and if you do it just right, the gun doesn’t go off. About the time I heard his trigger finger crack, he punched me in the cheek with his fist. The gun and I both hit the floor.

  I bounced back up and rammed my shoulder into his waist, picking him up and slamming him against the nearest wall. A lamp fell off the table and the bulb exploded in a blue flash. I drove my right fist into his abdomen, and he gave a loud grunt. He retaliated, bringing his clenched hands down from above his head and smashing them into my back. I buckled and dropped to the floor.

  Ronnie tried to stomp me with his foot. I caught it and twisted. He fell on top and for the next several seconds, I showed him how to wrestle. I’m good on the ground. I put him in an armlock and threatened to snap.

  “All right, all right!” he yelled. “Don’t break my arm, man. You’ve made your damn point.”

  I let go and stood over him. “You didn’t give me much of a choice.”

  “Jesus…what’s wrong with you?” he asked me.

  “You’re the one who pulled the gun.”

  “I was trying to protect myself.”

  “You can’t come into my house threatening me. You need to understand that.”