Since Fletcher and the rest of Sin’s unit touched down in Key West, Charlie had them staking out the reef. He also equipped Fletcher’s boat with video surveillance which was fed to his office. He was able to keep an eye on the water from inside his office.
From inside the library at the Johnson place, Charlie stared at the video feed of the water. The past two days had been the same―boats started to gather on the outer reef around four a.m. and on the middle reef after the sun rose in the morning. No one had gone anywhere near the inner reef.
Charlie looked at his watch, picked up a radio, and spoke into the mic. “Is everyone in place?”
“We have the north and south point of the island covered, and a fishing boat out in the water,” Fletcher answered. “A gold fish won’t get near the reef without us knowing it.”
“Ten four.”
“Have you heard from Troy?” Fletcher asked.
“No word,” Charlie said. “I want an hourly check in,” he continued, “judging by the nautical mileage between Puerto Cabezas, Nicaragua and Tumbleboat, we may see some action on the reef tonight.”
“Eyes and ears are open; we’ll report as ordered,” Fletcher answered.
“You want another beer?” Bubba asked, slapping Troy on the back.
Troy leaned over the pool table, drew the cue stick back and with a quick release, fired the cue ball into the rack. Balls seemed to explode in all directions, careening off rails and each other. Three dropped into the pockets including the eight ball.
Troy stood up—a cocky expression on his face and smirked at the boys. “Sure,” he told Bubba, “and Joey’s paying since I just won the game.”
Bubba laughed at Joey’s misfortune and whistled to the waitress. “It’s good to have you back where you belong, Troy,” he said.
Troy nodded, “It’s good to be back with the gang.”
“What’d you ever see in that bitch anyway?”
Troy accepted the beer from the waitress that arrived, slapped her ass as she was leaving, and cocked his eyebrow at Bubba. “Seriously? Did you see the rack on her? Sin might be a bitch, but she is a hot one. I just wanted to jump her and dump her—like old times.”
Laughter erupted from both Bubba and Joey.
Troy made sure the liquor kept pouring, and as it did, the tongues started wagging.
Troy admired Bubba’s watch as the big guy and Joey drained their shot glasses. “Nice watch,” he said. “You two seem to be doing all right.” He leaned across the table and lowered his voice. “So tell me, how can I get in on some of this cash?”
Bubba looked over at Joey and vise versa. “The prophet treats us pretty good, but we do a lot for our pay—take a lot of shit, if ya know what I mean.”
Troy took another swig from his beer bottle. “It can’t be any worse than what I deal with from my superiors, and I know you must get paid better than what the state pays me.”
Bubba sat back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, but why you want in all of a sudden?”
Troy mimicked Bubba’s actions―sat back and took another pull off the longneck. “The past few days have me thinking.” He leaned forward and burned a look into both boys. “Tumbleboat is where I belong, and if this is where I’m going to stay, I might as well get the biggest bang for my buck.”
He wagged the empty bottle at the waitress. “Another one for me and my friends, and two more shooters for the big guys.”
“Why you ain’t doing any shots?”
Troy shrugged. “I have to work tomorrow, unless . . .” His right eyebrow and corner of his mouth rose in unison. “You tell me how I can afford a watch like yours.”
The waitress arrived and Bubba practically tore a shot glass from her hand, brought it to his mouth, and drank it in one belt. There appeared to be as much on his shirt as there was in his throat as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Le’ me go make a call.”
Troy watched him stumble his way from the table.
A few minutes later, Bubba was back. “The prophet don’t need any more help, but there is someone who could use someone in your position,” he smirked.
“Oh, who would that be and what position are you talking about?”
Bubba leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “The prophet,” he whispered, “is just a preacher. The real money comes from doing side jobs.”
“What kind of side jobs,” Troy mirrored Bubba’s movements, “and for whom?”
“Don’t know, but my daddy gets orders from time to time and then we get paid real good.”
“What kind of money are you talking about?”
“Five Gs each.”
“You’ve got my attention. What do I need to do for that kind of cash?”
“There’s a shipment coming in tonight by boat. Because O’Malley and the girls from the orphanage are missing, the State Police are everywhere. If you can keep the cops away from the fishing channel and help us move the merchandise, Daddy will give you five grand.”
“That’s it,” Troy said. “What are you moving, drugs?”
Bubba snickered. “Nah.”
Troy leaned further over the table. “What then?”
“Can’t say, but if I heard right, you’re gonna like it. In fact,” Bubba smiled, but his expression made Troy’s stomach twist, “you just might get to do some of that jumping and dumping if you know what I mean.”
It took every bit of restraint Troy had not to reach over the table and rip Bubba’s eyes out. Instead, he leaned back, brought the bottle to his lips and downed the contents in one swig. “I think I like where this is going,” he said. “Let’s get out
