Abduwali accessed the Coast Guard website and obtained the final cruise itinerary and sailing plan for the Victory. It would draw them within a hundred miles of the Mexican coastline where his facility was located.
His fleet for this operation included two thirty-six-foot high-performance Outlaw models manufactured by Baja boats. The appropriately named Outlaws, seized by the Mexican government during a drug sting operation just south of Brownsville, Texas, had disappeared from their confiscated goods inventory a month later. The Los Zetas leadership had delivered them directly to their new pirate. Like the fugitive Abduwali, nobody bothered to look for the boats in the tiny town of Carvajal.
Boarding the cruise ship had many potentially complicating factors, but Abduwali had game-planned them all. Execution was the key, so he picked his best men to join him. As directed, he also chose some of the cartel’s guys. It annoyed him that he was still not fully trusted by his employers, but maybe they were correct in their opinion of him.
If his research on this operation held true, this might be their biggest payout to date. One that might enable him to flee the Los Zetas’ clutches and head to America.
Chapter Four
Aboard the Victory Casino Cruise Ship
One Hundred Miles Northeast of Brownsville, Texas
Gulf of Mexico
The captain of the Victory was a citizen of the British Commonwealth, or South African, to be exact. Johnson Garland had been a highly qualified and respected cruise ship captain for MSC sailing out of Cape Town for years. Then, one fateful trip in which his itinerary led him to Port Louis in Mauritius, he became acquainted with the dangerous paradise of this Indian Ocean country. The white sandy beaches, sunny blue skies, and swaying palm trees were alluring to honeymooners and tourists alike. But they were not the only outsiders pouring into the country.
Extensive air and sea connections to southeast Asia combined with free ports and a vibrant offshore banking industry made Mauritius a drug trafficker’s paradise. The drugs made their way into the sex trade, and the recently divorced Garland found his way into the drug-fueled sex dens of Port Louis. That was where he was introduced to China White.
The powerful opioid, created by a group of Russian chemistry students in the early nineties, became one of the most abused forms of heroin in the world. At a time when Garland was at his lowest, China White gave him the high he needed to live on. It also saddled him with an opioid addiction.
Like so many other addicts, Garland thought he could manage his body and mind’s need for the opioid. His job performance began to suffer, and when he was caught stealing OxyContin and Vicodin, pharmaceutical opioids, out of the ship’s infirmary, he was fired.
Wallowing in self-pity, he returned to Port Louis and allowed his life to spiral out of control. He quickly burned through his retirement account on prostitutes and smack until he hit rock bottom. He managed to avoid jail and fortunately was taken into a Christian-sponsored rehabilitation center in Mauritius.
When he exited the facility a year later, he’d found God, regained his health, and turned his focus to restarting his career as a captain. The last task was the toughest of them all. It took another year of nonstop résumé submittals and interviews. He was tainted by his prior termination of employment for cause. Then he tried Victory Cruise Lines, an upstart operation of casino-themed cruises operating off Florida and America’s gulf coast. They took a chance on Garland and hired him at the lowest level of employment, which allowed him time on the bridge.
From the date he was hired, Garland had an exemplary record. He didn’t drink. He kept to himself. He was always available to fill in for any position on the ship where a temporary void was created. He’d redeemed himself in many ways.
When Victory decided to expand their operation to the Port of Galveston, Captain Garland jumped at the opportunity when asked. At first, he would captain the ship for evening cruises only. He’d sail from Galveston at five in the afternoon, arrive at a set point several miles offshore while the passengers gambled, and then returned by midnight. It wasn’t much, but he was in charge.
During these short trips, he got to know his passengers. He greeted them when they boarded, and he thanked them when they left. His uncanny ability to recognize names and faces had fueled his rise to the top of the cruise ship business while he was in South Africa, and it benefitted him now. He knew, and used, the names of every member of the ship’s crew as well as the port workers.
He was also on a first-name basis with many of his regular passengers on the evening casino cruises. The previous evening, as the sun set over the Texas Gulf Coast, he’d made the rounds through the casino, stopping to speak with his guests, as he referred to them, calling them by name and asking about their families.
He was in his mid-forties but looked a decade older. Drugs and fast living will do that to a body. Otherwise, he was handsome, toned, and tanned. His looks certainly got him offers from the single women aboard his cruises, but he never violated the company’s policy against inappropriate conduct with passengers.
That morning, he’d wandered through the dining hall as guests enjoyed their breakfast. He was waved over to a table by a woman he recognized from prior cruises. He frowned because he couldn’t remember her name. As he arrived, she reminded him. She was Donna Larkin Ruiz from Austin. Her brother was
