“Okay,” she answered, brushing back a wisp of her hair as Coach framed the shot.
“Glasses or no? How about one with each and you pick?”
“Okay,” Shane said and posed for each with her dazzling smile.
Coach showed her the photos. “Here, you go. This one… or this one?”
Replacing her glasses, Shane compared both. “I think the one with glasses.”
“Glasses? You sure?”
“Yeah, that’s kind of who I am. Glasses!” she said, blushing.
“Okay, you got it. Thanks, Spy.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks!” Shane called as Coach spun for his stateroom to compare the evidence.
Once there, Coach opened the door and closed it behind him. “I think we have a winner,” Coach said to Trench. He placed his phone next to the computer screen, and they compared the images of Shane. Coach pumped the air. “That’s her, man! Same spot right there.”
“Are you sure?”
“What? You need a fuckin’ micrometer here? It’s her. See, it’s right above the right corner, same ratio from her eyebrow. We have an intel officer and a centerfold model in the squadron.”
Trench smiled. Maybe Shane wasn’t such a little ingénue after all. And, with the right amount of charm, maybe he could photograph her and…. He was now as determined to bed her as he was to earn his wings. He had to have her, and it made no difference whether it was aboard ship or ashore.
Coach, on the other hand, was thirsty. He knew of a JO in the Hunters who had the hots for Wonder Woman, and these photos should be good for a bottle of whiskey.
CHAPTER 19
Daniel got up and walked over to the wall-sized map of the Caribbean basin. Seated at the table were José Ramos and Eduardo Ramirez, kingpins of the Lara and Sabana cartels. Colombian expats like Daniel, they, too, were feeling the pinch of an unknown chokehold on their supply lines. Agreeing to meet at Daniel’s mountaintop lair was a rare occurrence for the cartel executives, who eyed each other with wary suspicion. Sharing the common hardship of severe losses and the disappearance of skilled mules— plus the harm that brought to their recruiting efforts — the trio had to pool resources and cooperate to restart the profitable flow of product north. Also seated at the table were their number twos who listened and spoke little. Standing around the perimeter was the muscle, in dark suits and glasses, showing no emotion and taking in everything. Daniel pointed to the map.
“I am effectively shut down in the Yucatan. We haven’t seen a shipment come ashore in two weeks, and have had two get through in the past month. Seven of our nine aircraft are missing, and we have only a Mayday call from one in the Windward Passage that had left Haiti thirty minutes earlier, reporting a fire before the radio went dead. Three of my lily pad trawlers are missing—without a trace—and with all this, over forty mules have disappeared with the vessels. At some point, even the mules have value when they make multiple trips and splash cash around their towns to gain new recruits.”
“I’m moving product along the Pacific, but only half of what I send out.” Ramos growled. At 300 pounds with slicked-back hair and dark glasses, he was a repulsive and feared thug.
Ramirez looked like a movie star. His tan set off the little bit of gray at his temples, and gold chains were visible under his open shirt and blue blazer. Like Ramos, his dark side was to be respected, and he spoke next.
“Had you not fought me, Daniel, we would have shared these losses in ‘Your Yucatan.’ Like Ramos to the west, I am having success up the Leeward chain, but, once in the open, my shipments are lost. Last month one vessel and three aircraft got through to the Bahamas.”
“How are you doing with containers?”
“Acceptable, but they are difficult to load and not as precise and responsive to demand as go-fasts and planes.”
“I had a submarine,” Daniel told them, “that went missing off Nicaragua two weeks ago. Twelve tons of blow. Three mules.” The hundreds of millions in lost product was a huge hit, but a show of emotion at the loss was blood in the water to the others, especially Ramos.
“It is dangerous under the sea,” Ramirez shrugged. “How do you know it was not a mechanical failure or human error?”
“I don’t know, and you don’t know either. None of us do, but we have to find out.”
“What’s in it for me?” Ramos asked. “I’m still making a profit. Why should the fact that you are having trouble with your supply chain concern me?”
“We are not talking about a little disturbance to be addressed. We are talking a near shutdown of our operations, including yours. And when they finish in the Caribbean, they’ll be coming to you in the Pacific.”
Ramirez made a pyramid with his fingers and took Daniel’s measure. “You are convinced it is the Americans?” he asked.
“Yes. And probably the British, Dutch, and Canadians. All have warships and helicopters, patrol planes, surveillance aircraft.”
“The Americans are clumsy, and they telegraph their every move. They talk—they can’t help themselves!”
Daniel took a drag on his cigarette. “The fact remains, gentlemen — and it affects you, too, my dear Ramos — that the majority of all our Caribbean open-water shipments are missing. They are shutting us down. You want a telegraph, Eduardo? They have a damn aircraft carrier out there working with our former Colombian countrymen, and they base airplanes in Puerto Rico, Guantanamo, the Keys. They can take advantage of the natural chokepoints throughout the islands, and they can see us before we can see them.”
“Yes, an aircraft carrier that can destroy the world!” Ramirez answered. “What good is such a ship without the will to use it? They have fought the sticks-and-stones Arabs with these ships for decades and still can’t defeat them. For all its muscle, Washington doesn’t have the stomach to fight us, and addicts are found in all parts of their society, even at the top. They want what we are selling, so whatever this is will pass. We should be more concerned with their legalization efforts. Do you know of the state they call Colorado?”
Exasperated, Daniel threw up his hands. “Eduardo, send your boats and planes if you wish, but I propose we stop our shipments and wait them out. The three of us can continue our activities in the Pacific….”
“Both of you are wrong.”
Daniel and Ramirez turned to look at Ramos, who sat there expressionless. Showing fear to each other could be fatal, and Ramos was the master at keeping his emotions in check. Daniel berated himself for showing a flash of frustration.
Ramos repeated himself. “Both of you are wrong. If, as you say, the Americans are destroying our boats and planes one by one, they are doing it because we allow them. We send the mules out alone, at night, so not to attract attention, but the very fact that they are alone in the open attracts the attention of their satellites and radars. We should husband our resources and send them in a wave, a convoy as they call it.”
“Yes, hiding in plain sight,” Ramirez added. “They cannot attack all our vessels at once, and there will be witnesses if they try.”
“Yes. Obtain lookouts with radios and cameras to report and record any activity, a minor overhead expense,” Ramos answered.