One Rough Man

I figured Jennifer and her uncle were involved in some sort of drug smuggling scheme, and would leave it at that. Research expedition. Yeah, right. Researching how to get some product across the border.

Whatever she was into, I now had a new concern. I had just whacked a couple of unsavory individuals. These types of thugs had bosses who remained in power by being the biggest badasses in the jungle. They wouldn’t let this go, but would be coming for me to make sure everyone knew what happened to somebody who interfered. On top of that, there was no way the cops would believe that I had nothing to do with whatever was going on.

I thought about my options, which is to say I realized I had very few. I could simply get on my boat and start sailing somewhere, getting someplace safe and starting over, but in the two months I had owned the boat, I had done absolutely nothing with it. It was less seaworthy now than when I’d bought it. Not that that really mattered, since I barely knew how to sail and had about four hundred dollars to my name. That pretty much eliminated the water option. I could leave the boat and do the same thing on land, but my finances made this even more unattractive. At least with the boat I’d be taking my house with me. Without it, I’d either be sleeping outdoors or running out of money in a matter of days.

I cursed and punched a bulkhead, the anger coming back with a vengeance. Jennifer recoiled at the violence, but I didn’t give a shit.

“You’re going to tell me what’s going on before the cops get here. I’m not going to get rolled up into whatever bullshit, amateur-hour scheme you and your uncle are into.”

“I don’t know! Jesus, I’m supposed to be on spring break! If you don’t want to talk to the cops, fine, I won’t mention you. I’ll just say somebody yelled at the jerks and they panicked and ran away. You’ve done your good deed, you don’t have to worry about any police activity, since I’m sure that you’ve got an arrest record a mile long. In fact, I’m pretty sure I don’t want any police officer to think that you and I are somehow involved in something either.”

Is she drunk? I looked at her in amazement, then remembered that she hadn’t been around for the finale of the fighting. “It’s a little bit late for that. The two apes up top are dead. I killed them. I’m involved whether you like it or not, and I don’t like to be involved in something I have no control over. Tell me what’s going on.”

Jennifer looked at me, stunned. “You killed them? How? Why on earth would you do that—”

“Because the assholes that wanted to talk to you pulled a knife on me. It’s done, and now I’m involved in a mess I want no part of. Who’s your contact? Who sent those guys?”

Jennifer simply sat there.

I backed off. Scaring the shit out of her wasn’t going to get me anywhere. I leaned back, thinking about what I knew. My gut was suddenly saying she wasn’t lying. When I thought about it, I realized the woman who’d helped me tonight didn’t seem like the type involved in anything like drug smuggling. It just didn’t add up. Someone like that would have waited until I was unconscious, then picked my pocket. I stopped that line of thought. Don’t be fooled by the package. You don’t know her at all.

Either way, it wasn’t my problem. I needed to figure a way out of this mess and quit worrying about whether she was guilty. I went back to the deck, feeling the clock ticking rapidly. It was a miracle that nobody around the marina had heard the ruckus, but it was only a matter of time before someone wandered by. Thinking it through, I realized that it would be much, much better if I called the police, or if Jennifer did. Every second of delay was going to look suspicious.

I searched both bodies. The only things of value were a couple of wallets with driver’s licenses from New York and New Jersey and a couple of cell phones. I checked the contact list of both phones. They were empty, which indicated in and of itself that these guys had something to hide, although that was blatantly obvious at this point. I switched to the call history of the phones, hoping that these guys weren’t that diligent with their operational security. The shorter man — Anthony from his driver’s license — had no incoming calls, and about twenty calls to 1 -900 numbers on the outgoing list, thus was little help. The taller man, or Edward, had two incoming calls, one from overseas by the look of the number. His outgoing-calls list only contained two numbers, one of them matching up to the overseas incoming number. I went back to Jennifer.

“Do you know the country code of Guatemala?”

“I think so. It’s either 520 or 502.”

“Well, one of the guys has an international phone number starting with 502, so he’s calling Guatemala. Does your uncle have a GSM phone that works outside the U.S.?”

“No. He always communicates over the Internet. Most of the places he goes don’t have cell phone service, so he doesn’t bother.”

I hit redial on the phone, wondering who was paying the bill for this call.

Jennifer stood up. “What are you doing? Who are you calling?”

“I don’t know who’s going to answer, but I’m getting my ass out of trouble with whoever is after you. You might want to do the same. I’ll pass the phone to you when I’m done.”

I stood waiting for the connection to be made. Finally, a man with a heavy Spanish accent answered in English. “So good of you to call. I assume that it’s done? Do you have some good news?”

“Uh, no. We don’t have the package. And the guy who owns this phone won’t be getting the package. He’s now out of the picture for the long term.”

I had no idea who this was, but there was a better-than-even chance that whoever he was, he was being monitored. I didn’t want to incriminate myself on some DEA tape.

“I’m sorry, my English isn’t that good. Could you please explain yourself?”

“Yeah, I’ll try to make it as plain as I can. Your messenger acted like an asshole and I took him off the project. I’m not involved in any way, and just want to make sure that you know that I don’t have the package, don’t want the package, and don’t even know what it is.”

28

On his Guatemalan estate, Miguel cursed under his breath. Those damn amateurs. He should have known they would screw this up, but he was on a tight time schedule, and they were the only ones who could have reacted in time. His calculator brain began assessing courses of action. The guy on the other end of the phone, whoever he was, was clearly no innocent bystander, as he’d had the presence of mind to call and had fairly good operational security on the phone. Tony and Ed must have said too much, and now this guy wanted a piece of the action. On the other hand, why would he start out by saying he wanted nothing to do with it? Of course, he could be the police, but if that were the case it really didn’t matter. Miguel wasn’t tied to whatever antics Ed and Tony had pulled. The only loss was the package itself, and if this was the police, the whole operation was over anyway. He needed to determine who this guy was, and maybe turn this to his advantage.

“I’m beginning to think you have a wrong number. I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about, but am curious. If you don’t know anything about the package, then how do you know there is one? That seems a little illogical.”

“Look, the person who was supposed to get the package is sitting right here. She told me about it. I’m not involved and just want to make sure you know that I’m not trying to get the package, whatever it is. Your business is with her, not me.”

Miguel had the opening he wanted but was still not sure this wasn’t a trick. “All right, because I’m curious and have nothing else to do right now, I’ll talk to her. Put her on.”

“I will, but before I do, are we good? I’ll get her on the phone, and I’m out of it? I didn’t mean to do anything, but your messengers were insistent.”

“Sure, you’re good. Put her on. Since I don’t know about a package or any messengers, I certainly won’t be upset at you for anything.”

Miguel waited a few seconds, then heard a female’s voice. “Hello? Who’s this?”

He was surprised, but pleasantly so. This seemed to be the real deal, and it didn’t look like the entire