CHAPTER 7
Now it was a waiting game. The Turk had three days to play his cards. I had three days to pretend not to care. Dimitriadis and Papadakis had swept the boat and brought Hassan in that night under the cover of darkness. He wasn’t talking. Not a word. Didn’t even ask if he was being detained or free to go. The oldest get out of jail free card, or at least limit your time being detained, that there is. They suspected we didn’t have enough on him to get what we wanted. They could hold him a week tops. If they brought in the Greeks maybe longer. The DEA and the Greeks could bounce him back in forth in a sea of paperwork and detentions. Once he was out, our luck was likely out with it.
Frost was still recovering. That was OK with me. I did what I had to do. Frost just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Too bad it happened while he was trying to help me out.
With Frost out and Dimitriadis and Papadakis working on the detention and a number of other cases at once it left just Claire Abbey and me.
We searched the database. Used the wall as a giant whiteboard to try and set up a flow chart. We had headshots of the known players. It was like a puzzle. If we could connect all the pieces we could set the trap much quicker. Right now we had a bunch of the pieces of the side of that puzzle, and we needed the middle.
The middle had to be Devlin. He had to be the one that made it all go. It was his ego. He was the center of everything or he didn’t play. If he decided to play he would make sure he was the center. Since I had spotted him in the area, it was a good bet he was playing. He looked like he was on a holiday, but guys like that never go on holiday. Business is pleasure and pleasure is business.
Abbey and I took an off day and she agreed to let me give her a windsurfing lesson. I was pretty good so it was going to be easy. More importantly it was going to be fun. Clear our minds a little. Come back fresh. And of course I was going to take any alone time I could get with her.
We went over to Big Blue Surf Center and rented our gear. We had a great time. She was smiling and laughing all day. I was too. I think I got her mind off everything. A success in my book.
At the end of the day we returned the gear. We both had our change of clothes in backpacks.
“Let’s get a hotel,” I said.
“Today? Now?”
“Why not? We’re adults. I’m having a great time. You’re having a great time. I want to take it to the next level.”
“I’m having a great time?” she teased.
“Except when you fell off backwards and nearly ran into that little kid.”
“That little girl was good! She looked like a pro.”
“Yeah, she was pretty good, but let’s not change the subject.”
“I don’t know Zamora. What’s to say we have a great time. Then we wrap up this case. And then it’s all over?”
“You don’t think we’re going to wrap up the case?”
“Very funny. I’m serious.”
“I learned to live for the day. Plan for the future, but live in the now. We don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. Especially in our line of work. Let’s enjoy each other while we can. Let’s enjoy each other right now.”
I reached down and kissed her hard on the mouth. She liked it. She was kissing me back hard. Trying to pull me into her mouth with hers. Then she pulled away. She looked me in the eye. Put her little hand in mine.
“Show me the way.”
The taxi driver took us to a quiet little accommodation on the other side of the island. The minute we walked in the door it was on.
I picked her up and tossed her on the bed. The instant she landed she was pulling her shirt up over her head. In one move I pulled off my shirt and was on top of her. My hands were exploring every part of her. I wanted to feel her skin again. Her skin on mine. I reached back with my left hand and unhooked her bra with my index and middle fingers. I took her breasts in my hands. Squeezed them. Ran circles around her areolas and then sucked on her nipples.
My trunks were about to explode. I grabbed her by the hips and pulled off her shorts and swimsuit bottoms all in one pull. There she was. Totally naked. Totally perfect. Totally mine.
I slid out of my trunks and couldn’t wait to slide into her. To feel her.
I pressed my manhood at her opening and rubbed it around clockwise. A firm massage on her folds. She gasped and clawed at my back.
“I want you inside me.”
That’s exactly where I was headed. I rocked my hips back and then forward. Thrusting myself inside until there was no more space for me.
She let out a scream.
“Too deep?”
“No. More.”
I thrust and thrust. I could barely control myself. I wanted her so bad I was about to come instantly.
I flipped her over and shoved a pillow under her mid-section. Her butt was elevated. I could slam off her backside as hard as I wanted. Drilling her deep. She grabbed the end of the bed and bit down on the mattress. She was moaning. Her head was shaking sideways and back and forth. We were losing our minds in lust.
I pumped and pumped and pumped. Thrust and thrust and thrust.
I didn’t care. I was going to finish now.
“I’m gonna explode.”
“In me! Don’t stop.”
Her words sent me over the top. I flung my hips forward as hard as I could three more times. On the third I felt my body shake and a rush of heat transfer from my groin and out into her. I was literally a volcano erupting.
She let out a long scream. It only ended when she ran out of breath. I collapsed on top of her. Forgetting I was too big and too heavy to do so. She didn’t complain. She liked the skin-on-skin sensation too.
We continued like teenagers all night and into the morning. We passed out in each other’s arms well after sunrise. The next thing I knew the housekeeper was knocking at the front door.
“Sorry. Do you want to stay longer?”
“Yes. I’ll come by the office later.”
“OK. Thank you.”
Abbey was still in my arms. Hadn’t even moved. I immediately fell right back to sleep.
A short while later I felt some stirring and opened my eyes. She was rolling out of bed. Sitting on the edge.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Three minutes to seven,” she said.
“In the evening?”
She was turned away, but I could her laughing. She was checking her phone.
“That’s what I have to double check too.”
I looked at my phone. No missed calls. No messages.
“Did anyone try and get ahold of you?”
“Nope. Frost was out all day. He knows I’m with you. And if I’m with you, I’m safe.”
I liked the way she said that. I liked even more that she didn’t even have to think about it first. The words just came out like there were no other alternatives than to always be safe when I’m around. She knew deep down when she was with me her safety was a guarantee requiring no second thought. It was automatic.
“You’re one hundred percent right about that,” I said. “Except you’re not safe from me!” I rolled over and grabbed her off the side of the bed. Pulled her back in. We picked up right where we had left off.
We checked out the next morning and went to a coffee shop to hatch out some options. We wanted to stay on this side of the island just in case.
We were half way through our first coffee. Still reveling in the glow of our romp and of the island breeze when my phone vibrated. It said: Let’s talk. 5 o’clock on my side.
I rotated my wrist so Abbey could read the message.
“Looks like he’s biting.”
“Guys like this don’t text you like this when they’re biting. They text you like this when they’re already hooked.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“I know so.”
“Zamora, I need to get something concrete. Something on record.”
“You want statements. I’ve got plenty. You want me to wear a wire? I can do that.”
“You’re not an agent.” I could see where this was going. “I need to do it myself.”
“You want to cross over with me?”
“I have to. I have to see this for myself. It will help me wrap my head around it. Maybe it will help me put the pieces together tonight when we’re staring at that big white wall with all the headshots on it.”
“Are you sure?” Who was I to say no? Not going to be a hypocrite.
“I’m sure.”
We put together a plan and before you knew it we were on that ferry over to Bodrum.
I exited the ferry first. Abbey stayed back to tail. The Turk had sent the same guy to meet me. He was getting too predictable. Too sloppy.
When I entered his shop I receive the same greeting. The same tea. Again there was a new young girl serving it up. She had the same reserved politeness as the others before her.
“I have thought about your proposal,” he began. He wasn’t playing his cards yet. He was waiting to see how enthusiastic I become. He took a sip of his tea.
“I am looking to expand. I am looking into other ideas. Your plan has come along at a very good time. Perfect for both of these reasons.”
I waited for the, but.
“But, right now I must focus on the refugees. They are bringing me a lot of money. They are also helping me establish ties with important people. European people. People who I can work with. People I can grow with.”
“I understand,” I said.
“But this does not mean your idea will go to waste. I know of another man. He may be better suited for this business. He will not take a meeting with you, but if you wish I can contact him.”
“Thank you. Thank you for thinking of a potential partner for me. I must say though, for a business such as this I think it is important to know who I am working with. To sit and meet eye-to-eye.”
“I agree. I think he will agree too. Eventually. At first he will not.”
I thought for a second. “I don’t mean to insult you, but if there is some commission involved we can work that out. You are arranging the relationship. That is valuable. You deserve to be compensated for this. I would still like to meet this man face-to-face.”
“I am sure the answer will be no, but as you wish. I will ask when I contact him.”
“Thank you. Do you know when that will be?”
“When you walk out that door. Of course I do not know what he will think. Even how much time he will need.”
The Turk was right. We all need a little time. Just like how Smith needed a little more time in that jungle swamp.
They had found a hole in the underwater fencing and made their way through. Smith and his partner Williams. They had two hours of light left in the day. One hour to get out. That left one hour to forge deeper.
They moved through the swamp perfectly concealed. They looked like a log floating down the river. A disgustingly beautiful river of dirt that snaked through the country and emptied into the sea. They were nowhere near the sea now. They were in deep. They spotted a security guard on the perimeter. He looked alert, but he also looked preoccupied with the jaguar in the tree overhead.
With dusk approaching the jaguar was preparing to hunt. The guard knew it. Living in the jungle he also knew the odds of the jaguar trying to make him his final meal were slim to none. He seemed more preoccupied out of sheer curiosity. Probably that and boredom. And of course you don’t want to turn your back on a cat of that size.
The good news is he was at the edge of darting range. Even better with a perfect shot he’d be down and the jaguar would be having dinner. A scream was likely. That would alert the others and put Smith and Williams in a world of hurt.
They decided to let him be. The jaguar would keep him preoccupied while they swam around a bit deeper into the compound. Gather more intel on the perimeter security. Mapping the entire security setup would provide a huge quick start when the day for go time arrived.
They pushed further and further. Making mental notes of the structure and guards. They decided to head back. Back to the underwater fence and out the way they came. As they made their way back they kept a safe distance. Close, but far enough apart so to provide alternate firing positions upon incoming rounds if need be.
A caiman pushed off the bank thirty-five yards ahead. They had been warned to keep a look out of them. Especially the black caiman. They grow up to eighteen feet. This one appeared to be about half that size. They weren’t too concerned about the caiman. At least that’s what the report said. There had been jokes in the barracks about encountering one.
Smith new they hunted mostly on land. And at night. Using their eyes and ears to catch white-lipped peccary. Basically a rainforest pig. He was a student of animals. When most guys were out downing beers after a long day, Smith was in the barracks, watching Animal Planet.
They kept on their way. Keeping one eye on the remaining guard who was still in eyesight and one eye on the lookout for the caiman, which was nowhere to be found. They got about five yards from the underwater fence when all hell broke loose.
Thrashing, splashing, rolling, and twisting. The caiman had caught itself in the fence trying to pass through. It might have been chasing prey. It might have just been minding its own business. Neither mattered now, because the caiman’s business was the guard’s business.
The guard fired a shot at the jaguar. Dropping it from the tree. A cat that big needs a shot to its vitals to drop. The guard hadn’t missed his target. The other guards came around the side of the building to see what was going on. When they saw the caiman thrashing they decided to take turns. The problem wasn’t being spotted. Smith and the other SEAL stayed hidden. The problem was the guard’s aim.
The guards were bored from a long day of doing nothing and watching even less. The caiman provided comic relief. They took turns shooting at the trapped carnivorous reptile.
Devlin was out on his balcony entertaining two blonde prostitutes he had flown in from Riga, Latvia with promises of wild weekends and shopping trips. One would later escape and volunteer to testify against him. She was found strangled to death in a five star St. Petersburg hotel the morning she was to give her first interview to reporters about her time with Devlin in the jungle. Her tongue had been cut out and nailed to the wall. A sign that talking wasn’t appreciated. The Russian police never followed up.
Always one to exert his power Devlin came down to show he was the best shot. He proved he was and he proved he wasn’t with the first round out of the chamber.
His shot missed the caiman by three yards. It didn’t miss Smith. Smith had been underwater with a blowpipe for air. He was slowly moving backwards the more erratically the gunfire became and the more the caiman struggled.
Smith and Williams had been stuck. Not able to go forward. A trapped predator blocking the path. Not able to go down. The dark, murky depths of the river. Not able to go back. Further into the belly of the beast. Deeper into enemy camp. And not able to go up. They would be seen and shot. Devlin’s bullet changed all that.
His bullet hit Smith square in the head. The bullet would be removed at an autopsy performed stateside thirty-six hours later. Williams knew the round had been fatal on impact. Even so, he was going to try to save him just incase. Always one to look out for his brother he reached and grabbed his body in the murky river as darkness approached. He lifted the body back and tried to get the nose and mouth out of the water and underneath the decoy log he had used to maneuver into the camp.
No response.
Williams did the best he could. He had to keep Smith’s body from floating. He had little weight with him available to keep Smith’s body down and what he did have wasn’t going to cut it. He tried to float Smith around the caiman but there wasn’t enough room. He pulled out his mini bolt cutters and began working on the fence. Before his second cut the caiman broke free.
The guards were beyond angry their fun was about to end. They emptied their clips into the river. Smith’s partner said it was like a hailstorm of bullets. Bullets not only from Devlin and his men, but from other directions. Some guards had been tailing them and slipped in behind them on the shore. Smith’s body provided the only protection. The guards noticed some movement and went back into the house to retrieve larger caliber weapons.
Williams knew his troubles were about to multiply. He dove down. Pushing Smith’s body through the hole in the underwater fence first. Forcing himself through immediately after.
Smith’s body was now floating. Easily made out to be a military commando from the balcony. Determining which unit and from which country would be impossible just on sight. Devlin and his team knew. Only the SEALs would have the guts to attempt such a mission. Not only the guts, but it was the American government with the most to lose. Devlin knew they’d be sending their best.
Williams’ mission had rapidly changed. First tasked to gather intel, he now had two new objectives. Get out alive. Get out with Smith’s body. He would die with him before he would leave the body behind.
The only advantage Williams had was the mini periscope. It wouldn’t be visible from the shore. Painted to match the murky brown water. Williams released Smith’s body one last time. He swam to the bottom of the river and began to feel. Feel for anything heavy. Heavy enough to serve as a weight. The same kind of weight a scuba diver might use. He found a rock. It would have to do. He dislodged the rock with his ka-bar. He reached down to pick it up. Too heavy. He dropped to a squat position. Rocked back and forth. Back and forth until the rock was dislodged and into the open water. He got as low as he could. A low squat position. Williams had drownproofed himself before. Many time during training, but even in drownproofing you are able to come up for some air. The time for air was now. He was out.
He got the rock to his right shoulder. Squatted as deep as he could and exploded upwards. What started as an explosion was quickly reduced to next to nothing as the weight of the rock pushed back. He kicked and kicked and kicked. Fought with all he had to move the rock upwards. He continued upward, breaching the surface and in one movement shoving the rock horizontally onto the midsection of Smith.
It worked. Smith began to sink. Smith’s buoyancy negated by the rock’s weight had worked. The body rested just three feet below the water’s surface. Yin and yang. Williams removed two bungee cords from his cargo pocket and secured the rock to Smith. From his other pocket he removed a makeshift plastic tube the SEALs were carrying in case a situation like this was encountered. It was rudimentary and very crude, but this wasn’t a time to question whatever tools were available. He cleared the tube like a snorkel. He had a breathing tube, a mini periscope, and a body to transport.
For the last hour of light and into the night, Williams would transport the body through the snaking river ways and back to base. The debrief report stated that Devlin and his band of criminals would follow Williams along the waterway for three hundred and seventy five yards before giving up. They did not even know Williams, with Smith’s body, was less than thirty meters from the banks of the river on which they searched. Random shots were fired. None came as close as the ones during the exit from the compound’s perimeter at the fence.
Williams would later be awarded the Navy Distinguished Service Medal. He dedicated the award to Smith. It now rests above the fireplace of Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan and Kathy Smith in Baytown, Texas. Next to a photo of their son. Their son standing on top of a hill in Afghanistan. Standing with me.
I took the ferry back over to Kos. Took a cab back to the DEA war room.
“How’d it go?” Abby asked.
“He said he’d check. Doesn’t look so good.”
“Well, I have some news that might cheer you up.”
“Anything.”
“We found Hassan in our system. Real name Harjeet Hoysala.”
“That doesn’t sound Arabic.”
“Because it’s not. Southern Indian.”
“Southern Indian?”
“Yep. He blew it with Hassan. Tried to get cute.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know how The Turk, goes by The Turk? Well our buddy Harjeet Hoysala goes by Hassan, because he’s from Hassan. Hassan, India.”
“And it works perfectly because it’s an Arabic surname.”
“Exactly. He uses it to try and blend right into their culture. Easy to remember because he’s from there. But that’s not the only connection he has to the city.”
“Go on.”
“Ready for this? He’s manufacturing condoms there. A lot, lot, lot of condoms.”
“Which explains the boxes we found on his yacht.”
“Exactly.”
“So he manufacturers the condoms there, brings them up through Pakistan and into Afghanistan.”
“Right. And there he can put the heroin in the condoms for shipment. Shipments via trucks, cars, and of course people. They swallow the condoms filled with heroin and they can transport them anywhere.”
“But why would he have so many condoms on his boat. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. He’s dropping them with The Turk. The Turk gives them to his Syrian refugees. Those refugees become drug mules to pay for their transport across the sea from Bodrum to Kos. Making €1000 to transport a refugee is nothing when you can have that refugee smuggle millions of euros worth of heroin over instead.”
“Right inside their belly.”
“Right inside their belly. Neatly wrapped in the condoms provided by Hoysala.”
“Too easy for these guys.” I paused to think. “Where does Devlin fit into all of this?”
“We don’t know, but we’re making progress. Seems he has a huge villa in Bahrain.”
“Bahrain? What’s he doing there?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“He actually lives there?”
“It seems, but he’s gone often. Amsterdam, Macau, Thailand, and Berlin a lot. We’re looking for properties there. Haven’t come up with anything yet. If we can get a property there we can work with local authorities to begin surveillance.”
“Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Wait a minute.”
“He lives in Bahrain?”
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you see what part?”
“Yeah, we have the address.”
“Pull it up, can you?”
“Sure.” Abbey went over to her computer.
“Here it is. How familiar are you with Bahrain?” she said.
“I conducted some training there years ago. Naval Support Activity Bahrain. I know it a little. The area should be divided up into blocks.”
“You’re right. Says here it’s in Block 340.”
“And you said he flies to Thailand a lot. Right?”
“Yes.”
“What airport? Utapao-Rayong?”
“Probably Bangkok, but let me check.” I saw her type at her laptop and hit enter. “Yeah, you’re right. Utapao-Rayong. How’d you know that?”
“And Harjeet Hoysala is from Hassan, India. Is that part of Karnataka?”
“Let me Google that.”
“Yeah, it is. What’s going on, Zamora?”
I ran as quickly as I could to the bathroom toilet. I wasn’t fast enough. I vomited all over the tile in the bathroom floor. I was on my hand and knees. I vomited again. My eyes were watering. I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I was breathing heavy. I had never felt so sick in my life.
“Zamora! What’s going on? Are you OK?”
“Open the window. I need some air.”
Abbey opened the window. I stayed on my hands and knees a full two minutes. After I stopped dry heaving I went to the kitchen. Washed out my mouth. Gargled with salt water. Stuffed my mouth with olives to get the taste out of my mouth. Spit them right back out into the sink. I couldn’t eat now. I walked over and sat on the bed. Abbey was furiously cleaning the head. When she finished she ran the bags outside to the dumpster. Came back in and switched on the fan. I was hunched over on the bed. I couldn’t believe it.
“Zamora! Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Don’t you see?”
“No!”
“What are all these locations connected to?”
“I don’t know.”
“What illegal activity?”
“Drugs! Come on we know that already.”
“You don’t get it. Yeah, there might be drugs in these areas. Almost for sure there are, but it’s not drugs.”
“Come on. Just please tell me. Come out with it already.”
“Abbey, these guys aren’t into drugs. These guys are into prostitution.”
“Prostitution?”
“Not just prostitution. The worst possible kind. Child prostitution. Human trafficking. They’re trafficking kids for prostitution.”
Abbey’s legs collapsed underneath her. Luckily she didn’t hit her head on the way down. She was on the floor. Her arms were on the side of the bed. Her head was in her arms. I could hear her crying. I put my hand on the back of her head to comfort her. She lifted her head.
“We are going to get these sick, disgusting people. No. They’re not even people! They are not even human. They are human waste. They are nothing. Uhhh! I am going to lock them away and make sure that key gets thrown away forever.”
I almost couldn’t bring myself to tell her. In the SEALs the missions were violent, but they weren’t this hard. Bad guy. Selling drugs. Pirate. Stealing boats. Things like that. Find enemy target. Eliminate. This was different. This was beyond disgusting. It involved kids. It involved people coordinating all over the globe to make this happen. I wanted to kill each and every last one of them. To strangle them to death with my own two hands. To watch the life leave their face as I twisted my bare hands around their necks.
Back to the moment. A technicality that Abbey wasn’t seeing. Who could blame her in a time like this?
“Abbey.”
“Let’s get these guys!” She said.
“We can’t.”
“What do you mean we can’t? We sure as hell can!”
“We can’t. I can. You’re DEA. That’s drugs. You don’t deal with trafficking. That’s the State Department.”
The pain in her eyes made me want to kill them even more. She realized it was out of her jurisdiction.
“What about Johnson? She’s one of ours. She’s in there somewhere!”
“I know. I don’t know how that would work. I do think they’re going to pull you off of this once we tell them.”
“Are you sure that’s what it is?”
“All the pieces are there. Bahrain has a big red light district. Exhibition Road in Juffair. It’s right outside the Naval Base”
“You’re joking me?”
“I know those guys at the base. I know they’re type. They’re not into that stuff. Sure, you can probably spot plenty of them in the strip clubs there. Drinking and having a good time, but these guys aren’t the types that would be involved in the stuff that Devlin’s involved in. It takes a twisted mind for that. A very, very twisted mind. And if those guys caught wind of someone involved in that I know, for sure, that they would take action against that person. Swift and deliberate.”
“But that’s just Bahrain.”
“True, but Pattaya is the capital of freaky. The world capital. Add in Amsterdam. Berlin for good measure. These are all places ripe with human trafficking and prostitution.”
“And this Hoysala guy. The one going by the name of Hassan. That area he’s from. Karnataka. That area is hot spot for child prostitution. There and also places like Sri Lanka. Karnataka is way down in Southern India. On the Western side. Sri Lanka is just off the coast on the Southeastern side. Still. They’re close. They can easily find and traffic children in that entire area. The laws are too lax down there. They probably don’t even have to worry about prosecution.”
Abbey was frozen still. Just listening and processing what I was saying.
“Devlin is visiting all these areas to either check up on his businesses or to entertain wealthy clients. He was into drugs, but what he’s really skilled at is pinning people into a corner. Like he did with those American politicians. Put them in a spot where they’re basically blackmailed. He’s surely got that set up here. Probably invites in some prominent guys and then records it. That and the other thing he specializes in. Transportation routes.
The reason why he was so successful in Colombia wasn’t because of the drugs. There are a ton of places manufacturing cocaine. He became so powerful and so successful down there because he mastered the transportation. Instead of going by air, he was going by river and sea. And not just by river and sea. Underwater. Undetectable submarines. And if they were detected, he could just blackmail the politicians. He didn’t master the drug game. He just mastered the transportation routes.”
“But what about this condom business? That’s perfect for transporting drugs.”
“If we check the production is probably pretty small. It can be used to launder some of the money they’re making. That’s for sure. I wouldn’t be surprised if the boxes of condoms we found on the boat represented a large part of their quote unquote inventory.”
“And those condoms had no drugs inside,” she said.
“Exactly. Because they’re not being used to transport drugs.”
Abbey’s eyes left my face and faced forward. Her eyelids drooped and she looked frozen. Her stomach emptied seafood across the bed.
This animal was already beyond terrible six years ago when I killed him. Somehow he had found a way to become even worse. So much worse I couldn’t even put it into words. There was only one thing left to do. I was going to kill him again. This time, for good.
The population of LaJolla Farms in San Diego is less than 140. It’s not nearly as well-known as LaJolla Village or even LaJolla Shores. It doesn’t even have beachfront. What it does have is some of the best views on earth. While the residents of LaJolla Village may have beachfront they are packed in. Beach homes on cramped lots. LaJolla Farms doesn’t have the beachfront, but they don’t have the crowding either. The estates there have land. Lots of it. Land high up on the cliffs. Even more important to Devlin was the number one advantage of living at the Farms. One that easily outweighed living on the beach. No one can get up from below.
Six years ago we had tracked Devlin to an estate in LaJolla Farms. He wasn’t there often. He used it more for a personal sanctuary. Surveillance even showed he practiced yoga and meditation. It was likely to relieve the stress of running literally billions of dollars of cocaine from the Colombian jungles to California.
All to the knowledge of Washington and their numerous law enforcement bodies readily available. Even with that knowledge and ever resource possibly imaginable, law enforcement couldn’t be called in to bring down the biggest criminal. The one who hid in plain sight. Rubbing it right in their face. It’s easy when you have a nice chunk of Washington blackmailed.
I took the lead on the recon of the Colombian hideout the day after he shot and killed Smith. Seventy-two hours later we had authority to burn it down, and that’s what we did. I felt little joy in the temporary setback we had caused. Before we lit the match we stormed the compound. Half of the guys went down firing. The other half surrendered. Most wouldn’t talk. The few that did told us Devlin was gone. He had left on a plane just three hours prior. We had pushed and pushed and pushed for the authority to go in there. Pushed for over seventy-two hours. The guy with the pen took three hours too long to put the ink to the paper. Devlin had escaped. But he hadn’t. I knew where he was going.
I requested twenty-one days liberty. The Lieutenant Commander approved it immediately. I had worked my butt off for him. Just like he had for me. I had accrued so many liberty days I had to use them or lose them. It was an easy request to approve. Rodriguez knew where I was headed. He didn’t wish me luck. I didn’t need any.
I was surprised to find no guards at Devlin’s estate. I guess he thought he was untouchable. I made my way around the fence and into his house. I couldn’t believe how easy it was. Or how arrogant a man could become.
I waited in his house for eight days. A chandelier above my head. A pistol on my lap. Spanish marble tiles under my feet. I sat in the entryway and waited for that door to open. I waited for eight days. I only took breaks to use the toilet and eat. I started with the food from his refrigerator. When that ran out I started in on the MREs I had in my backpack. I had my little MRE heaters right there on his Spanish marble tiles. The house he had paid $37 million dollars for three years earlier. I sat in that monstrous house and ate package MRE food that was designed to have a shelf life of almost a decade.
As I sat in that chair in the entryway all I thought about was Smith. Getting payback. I knew it was even bigger than that though. With Devlin out of the way the politicians he had blackballed would be free to go about their ways. I’d be issuing them a get out of jail free card. So they thought.
Devlin had a list of names and numbers right on the kitchen counter. There was code for different deals he had in place. Code that was very elementary that even a high school student could figure out. Numbers for letters. Letters for numbers. He didn’t even scramble the order. The audacity of the guy.
I had sat for eight days. I had thirteen more days of leave remaining. I’d sit there the whole thirteen more. If I had to I’d call in and request an extension. I knew Lieutenant Commander Rodriguez would grant it. And I knew Devlin would be home soon. He was out of places to hide and just like an animal with nowhere to run, it runs somewhere it knows. Somewhere it feels safe. Devlin would come to his sanctuary. I’d be waiting.