Mule

By Randal Bablitz

When a young professional man encounters a Russian mob boss, he is offered a shortcut to wealth. But first, Jay must take on the job of smuggling drugs. His life is turned upside down as he exposes himself to the dangers of the underworld. His keen wits and luck see him through. But will this be enough when he faces the violence and treachery of a gang war in northern Mexico.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Randal Bablitz
• Release date: Mar 21, 2011
• ISBN: 9780986870811

Randal Bablitz

Randal Bablitz was born in Edmonton, Alberta. He served in the Canadian Army with Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry and the Army Medical Services. In his retirement, Randy paints and writes.

Book preview

MULE

by Randal Bablitz

Published by Randal Bablitz at Smashwords

Copyright - 2011 Randal Bablitz

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CHAPTER 1

The young man threw back the top flap of his sleeping bag and shook off the chill air. It was cold and clammy in the v-berth. The yacht was pitching and rolling. He felt the deck fall away from him as she slid downwards into the trough. Then the motion shifted as the yacht powered up the front side of the next wave. Being in the forward berth made things worse. Jay Andersson thought that the yacht seemed to be hammering into the waves rather than cutting through them with its usual grace. He could hear the water pounding down onto the deck every third or fourth wave. Jay ran his fingers over his bristly brown hair and checked the glowing dial of his wristwatch. It was 1:30 in the morning, half an hour before his turn on watch would start. He swung his feet over the edge of the berth into the doorway and slipped into his boots. As he looked up the passageway, he could see how much the yacht was heeled over. He muttered to himself, Bloody idiots. Why are they racing? Reaching up onto the line, he started to pull down his gear. It was almost dry. He wrapped a small towel around his neck and pulled on his jacket, harness and personal flotation device.

Jay shivered again. With every mile they covered, the temperature seemed to drop slightly. It was the fourth day of an ocean passage coming back from Bermuda. He knew he could have signed on as First Mate for the course in the Caribbean. But this was the quick and convenient way to get out on the water. They had done a leg out to Bermuda with one group of students, and spent two or three days on the island before heading back with the second group of students. Jay worked in Toronto and didn’t have a lot of time. Jay knew the Captain well and thought he was a great guy to sail with. The skipper had many years of experience, and each day Jay would learn a few things. Jay made his way to the galley. Andre was getting up. He was in the portside quarter berth. Kaspar was still snoring away, face up, on the settee. Jay gently pinched his toes. Kaspar bolted and growled, What is it?

Jay chuckled. Kaspar, get up if you want to eat something. We’re on duty in fifteen minutes. Kaspar grunted and started to get organized. The skipper was lying against the outboard bulkhead in the starboard quarter-berth, looking over his paperwork. He was making sure that the curriculum had been covered.

Jim looked up and saw Jay. Jim nodded, then looked up towards the cockpit and shook his head. Jim had told them before not to beat the boat up, but they didn’t seem to be listening. Of course, the wind may have just picked up, and the crew had not made the necessary adjustments to reduce the sails. Jay told the Skipper, I’ll take care of it. Jim smiled and went back to his notes.

The three men of the next watch jostled around the cabin between the galley, head and settee as they prepared for their turn on deck. The yacht was pitching around. Jay checked the students’ rotation schedule. On this watch, Kaspar was to act as the navigator, Andre as the watch Captain, and Jay as the helmsman, bowman or whatever else while he watched the students do their practical exercises at sea. Jay checked the radar and the log and took a look at the GPS. They were making good progress. He spent a few minutes looking over the weather report and muttered, Shit, to himself. A cold front was closing in on them.

To add to the confusion in the galley, the other navigator, David, came below. He was hanging from the overhead handholds like a chimpanzee to keep his feet. Kaspar, I’ll do a fix and then handover. OK?

Kaspar grunted, Good.

Andre checked the chart to see how progress had been over the last three hours. He read the latest weather report and saw the front. It was obviously going to get worse on the course north to Bedford Basin. Andre looked at Jay. We’re in for a beating.

Jay nodded and headed up the ladder. He clipped his safety line onto the port jack line and clambered out on deck. Jay looked up at the sails. Almost all of the canvas was out. The yacht was charging headlong through the waves. Morning, he said to the helmsman. It’s a bit rough, must be four-meter waves. Jay checked the wind speed on the binnacle. It was oscillating between 18 and 25 knots.

Richard answered, Report says four and a half to five. The endless parade of dark grey waves came at the yacht from the northeast. The wind was from the west, off the port beam, pushing the tops of some of the waves up and back in foamy tails streaming off into the darkness.

You should have shortened the sails. Something is going to give if you keep this up. It’s impossible to sleep when you’re bouncing around in this washing machine. Somebody’s going to get hurt.

Richard waved his head towards the watch captain who was just descending into the cabin. I told him. There’s no hurry, but he wouldn’t have it. He must think he’s warming up for the Fastnet race.

Andre came on deck and hooked on to a jack line. He spoke with a heavy Russian accent. Richard, you are relieved. Have a good sleep. Jay, can you take the helm? Jay took over steering the forty-foot yacht. Once Richard was below, Andre came close to the binnacle and said, Crazy bastards. If it’s OK with you, we’re reducing sail. I will take care of the foresail. Jay smiled and nodded his approval. The need to reduce sails was obvious to Andre. He was no dummy. Andre went to work and in a matter of minutes the foresail and main were reefed in. The speed of the yacht dropped slightly from over eight knots to a smoother and more comfortable six and a half knots. Kaspar stuck his head up and told them to steer 355 degrees on the compass. He asked what the speed was so that he could start his dead reckoning. Kaspar said coffee and sandwiches would be up in ten minutes.

Andre and Jay sat together on the bench across the transom. Andre liked Jay. Although Jay was only 26, he was an experienced sailor and instructor who knew a lot about boats and sailing. When Jay was in control of the vessel it seemed to become an extension of his body. Yet, he kept quiet most of the time and didn’t blow his own horn. Andre appreciated people who could keep their mouths shut. In his business, it was critical. One word to the wrong person, one indiscretion, could bring the police or the competition down on his operation. So the young engineer goes back to work on Monday?

Jay nodded. Yes, back to work. Jay enjoyed Andre’s company. He knew that Andre was well to do, maybe even loaded with money. But he didn’t put on the dog or act like a big wheel. Something told Jay that Andre had a modest start in life and despite his current situation hadn’t lost the common touch. When asked what he did for a living, Andre said he was in electronics, sales and distribution. He had been all over the globe buying and selling electronics – Russia, Finland, Sweden, Norway, Dubai, Thailand, Singapore, Hong Kong and other places. Names of far-off countries would roll off his tongue without hesitation as he told funny stories of his drunken adventures as a young businessman. Now he lived in Toronto. But Jay was not convinced that everything was as it appeared. Andre showed up at the Georgetown dock in a rented SUV driven by a big man with a large lump under his coat. The second man who had been in the front seat opened the Boss’s doors and got the baggage out. His name was Kaspar and he was also armed. These two rough-looking characters were always on the alert, looking here and there, doing a double check on everyone who came anywhere near the Boss. Kaspar was sailing back to Halifax with Andre. The other man, Victor, apparently flew right back to Toronto after he dropped off the Boss. This was not the entourage of a corporate officer of Best Buy or Panasonic.

In Bermuda, they spent two nights getting ready to sail and covering some instruction. When they went into town to have dinner, Kaspar always sat where he could watch the room and take care of Andre. Jay had seen Andre in his cabin going through his gear in his sea bag. There was a small pistol, like a Glock, right on top in the outside pouch of the carryall. When Jay saw this he glanced over at the Captain. Jim just smiled and said, Don’t worry about it. It’s OK. He apparently knew Andre from previous courses. Jay wondered why a guy with this much money would go on a course out of Halifax on the cold, foggy Atlantic. He could do this course anywhere in the world. When Jay put this question to Jim, the answer he received was, How the hell do I know? He pays his money and asks for discretion. That’s it.

Andre was quiet for while, riding the waves with one foot up on the port lazarette. Andre asked, Have you booked your flight back up to Toronto?

I have a ticket, but it’s open. I can change it to a different flight if we get in late. It depends on when we arrive.

An open ticket, that’s clever. You never know when you’re going to be delayed. So now you can save your ticket and fly back with Kaspar and me.

With you?

Yes. We have a nice little charter plane. It will leave whenever we are ready. And the food is good. We also have a stewardess with very nice titties. Andre chuckled and took a puff on his cigarette.

Jay thought for a minute. Why wouldn’t he? OK, that sounds great, Andre. Besides, I like titties. Thanks.

Andre slapped him on the shoulder and laughed. Very good. We can have a drink on the way home. Andre checked the horizon all the way around and the radar screen on top of the binnacle. Finally, he spoke again. I have an idea for you, Jay.

Really? Another idea? For me? He smiled.

Andre laughed. Yes. I want you to help me with some sailing. I have a new sailboat, a custom racing boat. It was built in Rochester for me. Very fast, I have pictures if you would like to see in the morning. It is tied alongside in Kingston. I would like you to test it, sail it on the Lake, out of Kingston. I would pay you.

You would pay me to sail around in a racing boat. You’re out of your mind. Jay shook his head.

No. This is not an ordinary boat. And it is not a normal type of job. The money is very good. But, what you would do is not quite legal. In fact, it’s definitely outside of the law. However, the odds of being caught are very, very, very small. That is all I can tell you. You would have to make up your mind based on that. He reached inside his heavy weather jacket for his cigarettes.

You must have other people who can do this for you?

Yes, but they have history. Some are suspicious characters, or they can’t sail worth a damn. Not like you. You’re a fresh face. And Christ knows you can handle a boat. Andre looked him in the eyes. Jay had gone to Dalhousie University in Halifax. He had an uncle, a mariner, who sailed out of Halifax. Every summer Jay worked full time with his uncle on the water doing charters. Throughout the school year, he had done some sailing on weekends or spent his time helping with boat maintenance. Over those four years, he had gained a great deal of practical experience and also acquired his sailing qualifications.

Andre, I appreciate your consideration. But I don’t think we are living in the same world. You have a pretty exotic lifestyle. Your life is, well, not a normal life. Hell, you carry a gun and it’s not for shooting groundhogs. He checked the compass and looked forward.

I don’t have a normal life? What is normal? Working for fifty years for someone else, taxed to the limit, and then retiring to a shitty little retirement home where they leave you in a diaper full of crap all night long? No, that’s not for me. I know. I was in the Army. They sent me to Afghanistan, twice, and I fought the Mujehaddin almost two years. Sometimes we would starve. Now, I live very well. And you could too, but low profile. You know, pretty quiet, only a little risk. Not like Afghanistan in the old days, eh? Just a simple job to do, and you get a boot full of cash. You think about this. Two or three years at it and you would never have to drive to the office again. It’s a good offer. He slapped his hand on Jay’s shoulder. You think about this. Not now. Give it a week. And then, I will call you.

OK, Jay agreed. But he had already made up his mind. He had a fairly good job, with a future. He worked hard and didn’t make a lot of money at the firm, but he knew that the experience would allow him to move on to more lucrative work. Andre was offering him a job as his maritime drug smuggler, or something similar. It was just not worth the risk.

CHAPTER 2

Andre had given the possibility some serious thought and had discussed it with Kaspar when they were out of earshot. After hearing Kaspar make his feelings known, Andre had decided. He wanted Jay to take care of the new boat. The kid had a fresh face, without a past. Jay was very quiet, ambitious, smart, mentally and physically tough, and capable. He was also averse to risk. He was perfect for the job.

Andre left it at that. He would say nothing more. In a couple of hours, the sky would start to lighten up. He and Jay sailed on through the night and patches of fog until the watch changed again at 0600 hours. It was Friday. The remainder of the morning was spent getting the yacht back into Halifax. On arrival, they emptied the food out of the galley and cleaned the boat, inside and out, from stem to stern. Before lunch the students were debriefed, exchanged contact information, shook hands, and headed out in their respective directions. The Captain thanked Jay for helping out. Jay’s travel expenses would be covered, and he would get some money for his troubles.

Jay joined Andre and Kaspar in the parking lot. The big man who had seen them off in Bermuda was there. Victor, the big Russian, saw Jay with Andre and Kaspar. With questioning eyes, he looked towards Kaspar. Kaspar spoke only one word of explanation. Osleeah. Jay heard him say the word and wondered what it meant

Victor loaded their gear into the rented SUV and then they headed for the airport. Within the hour the small jet taxied out onto the runway for the flight to Toronto. The jet had a two-man crew with a stewardess. She fussed over them, getting food and drinks. Jay sat beside Andre in the aircraft. They made small talk and then finally Jay asked the question. Andre, what does ‘osleeah’ mean in Russian?

Andre smiled. You miss nothing, Jay. It means ‘donkey’ or ‘mule.’

How about ‘jackass?’

No, no. Andre sounded reassuring. In Russian, we have other words for ‘jackass’. Osleeah refers to a hardworking reliable beast.

Jay thought about this while he ate his sandwich. He finished eating and in no time, fell asleep in the comfortable leather seat. The woman woke him when they were on final approach to Toronto. Once they were in the small charter terminal, Andre offered to give Jay a ride home. But Jay told his host that his car was in the airport Park and Fly. Andre said, "No problem. We’ll take you