A Narcotic Conspiracy

By David Beckwith and Nancy Beckwith

David and Nancy Beckwith have done it again.
In this latest adventure Will and Betsy Black, those crime-solving financial whizzes, find themselves curious when Geoffrey Oliver Watson III is found dead on his boat near Key West. Then a 50-foot go-fast cigarette boat nearly rams a Coast Guard cutter, raising more questions. The answer is drug smuggling. Can the husband-and-wife sleuths thwart the local drug lords?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AbsolutelyAmazingEbooks.com
• Release date: Jan 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781310951886

Book preview

A

Narcotic

Conspiracy

A Will and Betsy Black Adventure

David and Nancy Beckwith

ABSOLUTELY AMAZING eBOOKS

Published by Whiz Bang LLC, 926 Truman Avenue, Key West, Florida 33040, USA.

A Narcotic Conspiracy copyright © 2015 by David Beckwith. Electronic compilation/ paperback edition copyright © 2015 by Whiz Bang LLC. Second edition.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized ebook editions.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. While the author has made every effort to provide accurate information at the time of publication, neither the publisher nor the author assumes any responsibility for errors, or for changes that occur after publication. Further, the publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents. How the ebook displays on a given reader is beyond the publisher’s control.

For information contact:

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We dedicate this book to our daughter Aimee (A/K/A Lexie) who has brought endless sunshine to our lives. This book is also dedicated to all of our friends in the Florida Keys who gave us the scuttlebutt which made this book possible.

A

Narcotic

Conspiracy

CHAPTER 1

The sea was choppy and turbulent as if trying to predict coming events. The wind had blown relentlessly all night, but it had yet to rain. The Atlantic waves were three to four feet. It was now 3 a.m. The Coast Guard cutter rolled, but Neil Dixon slept soundly with false serenity in his bunk not knowing that the most dangerous operation of his career was moments from beginning. In his dreams he was attending Neil Junior’s little league game at Lower Sugarloaf School. It was the top of the eighth and young Neil was at bat. He tightened his grip. The pitcher threw a slider. Neil wasn’t fooled. He swung the bat hard. Just as he connected with the ball…

OOGAH! OOGAH! OOGAH! OOGAH!

Neil jarred awake. He was groggy but alert.

OOGAH! OOGAH! OOGAH! OOGAH!

His brain suddenly registered. It was the ship’s horn. The meaning registered. It was show time! Something big was about to go down. Around him suddenly was a buzz of activity as people hit the floor simultaneously and grabbed for their clothing and gear.

TWEET!

POSSIBLE SMUGGLING OPERATION IN PROGRESS! SQUADRON 404, PREPARE FOR INTERDICTION!

He was now fully awake and comprehended the situation at hand. This is what he had trained for since he had joined the Coast Guard’s Helicopter Interdiction Tactical Squadron (HITRON). In minutes he and his fellow trained professionals were aboard a MH-65C Dolphin helicopter, their mission clear - intercept the interloper. Use deadly force if necessary. Each was well aware this could become a dangerous mission, but this was why they were in HITRON. They had been trained in Airborne Use of Force (AUF). One veteran methodically checked his M240 machine gun; another younger member nervously held his .50-caliber precision rifle; another checked repelling equipment.

Their captain briefed them as they sped towards their target. Soon they saw it – a 49-foot, self-propelled semi-submersible. It looked like something out of a science-fiction movie. It had what appeared to be three snorkels above the surface of the water. There was a small square section raised in the middle with a thin rectangular window on each of the four sides. The rogue vessel had about a foot of freeboard. It appeared to be one of the handmade types constructed in the jungles of Colombia. The pregnant looking craft probably was constructed from a stolen sailboat hull with the mast and rudder removed. The remaining hull had been encased in fiberglass, and it had been painted blue to blend into the ocean. By most standards for this type of craft, it would be outfitted with a handheld GPS system and loaded with cocaine. This semi-submersible vessel would have a crew of four that had guided the semi-submersible vessel 2,000 miles from Colombia to the Florida Keys. The HITRON squadron now understood why these craft had been described as looking like a floating log in the middle of the ocean.

As Neil and the squad approached the smugglers, they could see that despite the rough seas the crew was attempting to transfer cargo to a fifty foot go-fast boat with three 350 Mercury outboards mounted to the stern. It had a deep v racing hull and a long, narrow beam. The boat was dark and menacing looking. The squadron respected the cigarette boat knowing it was capable of maintaining 25-knot speeds even in these choppy seas.

Neil’s mind momentarily reverted to the training classes he had attended. He knew the submersible crew would most likely attempt to scuttle their craft, drugs and all, rather than have it captured. The best way to capture the vessel was going to be to repel onto the deck before it could be scuttled, simultaneously capturing the go-fast boat with part of its illegal cargo aboard. The chopper pilot swooped down close to the two boats. Arms flailed and pointed frantically at them before peppering the sky with indiscriminate AK-47 fire. Coast Guardsmen slid down the ropes and onto the decks of both boats breathlessly fast but not fast enough to stop the sub from being scuttled. Their orders to close the valves were ignored. The smugglers excitedly responded over the din, Non comprende! Non comprende!

The fourth member of the narco-sub's crew frantically dialed a number on his cell phone. Señor Jacob, Señor Jacob, we have been boarded by the Coast Guard. All is lost. I swear there was nothing we could do. He then threw the phone into the ocean and jumped in himself.

Water poured into the hull from below, destroying probably a hundred million dollars of illegal drugs. It would take less than two minutes to send the sub and its load to the bottom. The sub crew wore frazzled life jackets that smelled of diesel. They jumped into the turbulent sea. Neil and one of his fellow repellers landed on the deck of the go-fast boat. Neil hit hard on the stern and felt his ankle twist. The captain of the go-fast boat jammed all three engines hard into reverse hoping to try to throw both Coast Guard men overboard. Neil managed to keep his balance, but a smuggler immediately hit him hard in the mouth with his AK-47 knocking Neil into the water. The last thing Neil remembered before the racing boat took off into the night was the powerful props severing his legs at the knees. As things turned black and the sub’s suction dragged him down, he saw in his mind’s eye for the last time Neil Junior connecting on that fast pitch with the sweet spot on the bat. The ball went out of the park and into the blue.

CHAPTER 2

The Sundance II did indeed seem to dance as it skimmed the sparkling green and blue surface of the Atlantic. Will and Betsy Black were both in good spirits as they breathed in the salt air.

What a perfect day to be out on the water, Betsy said to her husband Will.

I’m so glad the weather cooperated, Will agreed. I’d really like to see the Dixon family get the maximum bucks from this benefit.

Will Black was a securities broker for Reynolds Smathers and Thompson, a New York Stock Exchange member firm. He was also the resident manager for RST’s Key West branch. His wife, Betsy, was area president for WB Bank in Key West. They had met and married in Mobile, Alabama, and had moved to Vero Beach, Florida early in their marriage. Their daughter, Lexie, was a native Floridian who had graduated from the University of Miami and now lived in South Florida. They, along with three dogs and a parrot had moved to Little Torch Key the previous year when Betsy was offered the presidency of WB Bank in Key West and RST wished to establish a branch office there. The entire family thought of themselves as died-in-the-wool fresh water conchs.

Along with Will and Betsy was their friend, Jason Pearson, whom they had met when they moved to the Keys. Jason was a multi-talented entrepreneur who was involved in numerous professions and knew and was known by almost everyone in the Lower Keys.

I feel so sorry for Neil Dixon’s widow, Betsy continued. Who would have ever thought she would have been widowed with two small children at this point in her life?

Yuuck! The way he died gives me the creeps every time I think about it, Will said. Can you imagine having both legs cut off by props being driven by over a thousand horses and then drowned by a sinking homemade submarine? It’s like something out of an action movie.

I was sent out on that call, said Jason, who had been functioning that day as an EMT. He shook his head as he spoke. It was a very bad, bad scene.

I don’t know how you can go on some of those grizzly calls, Betsy said.

Because I like to think I can make a difference and help people, Jason said.

I’m sure glad Neil’s wife had local roots. The community has rallied around her since Neil died. People in the lower Keys really do take care of their own. She’s a third generation Conch, you know. Her granddad ran the Aqueduct Authority, he added.

Being a popular teacher at Lower Sugarloaf School didn’t hurt matters any either. People at the school have bent over backwards to be supportive. Who would have ever dreamed this would happen? I guess, even when you’re in a high-risk job like drug interdiction, you never think you’ll ever get killed yourself. I’m sure most people with high risk jobs repress danger the same way, Will said.

Will, Betsy, and Jason were participating in a boat dice run to raise money for the new widow and her children. Similar to a poker run, a dice run has an entry fee per boat and follows a prescribed course with checkpoints. At each stop, the dice are rolled twice for a combined score. The results are recorded and totaled at the last checkpoint, which is generally a party and award ceremony. The run had started at the Keys Fisheries on the bayside in Marathon, taking Moser Channel over to Hawk Channel. They now were speeding towards their first stop, Parrotdise on Little Torch Key. Will and Jason alternated as captains for the Sundance II. The flat seas had enabled them to hold a pretty steady 40 miles per hour since they had been in Hawk Channel.

I’ve read about poker runs before, Betsy said, but this is the first dice run I’ve ever heard about.

They’re not as common as poker runs, Jason said, but every once in a while the sponsor uses them to add a little variety and spice to the event. This one got ratcheted up another notch since Jake Blanchard, the sponsor, allows the crap shooter to go double or nothing at each stop and allows them to buy an unlimited number of crap shoots. Plus he has promised a real party when we get to our final destination, anchored seven miles off shore.

Speaking of Blanchard, here he comes, said Jason, pointing over the Sundance’s stern.

Will and Betsy turned and looked where Jason was pointing. A 50-foot, blue go-fast boat with no name was rapidly approaching the Sundance. Almost before they could blink the intimidating craft passed and shot ahead of them. They could see both Blanchard brothers and two guests in the boat.

Those boys are major high rollers with shit-pot-loads of money. Jake lives down the street from us. It was a mystery to me why they decided to sponsor this event. I don’t believe they even knew the family, Will said.

You’re right. I don’t think either of them has been especially philanthropic before now, Betsy said. I remember calling on both of them for United Way. Each just gave a token pledge.

Well, something hit their hot button because they stepped up to the plate big time for this cause, Jason said. That Hades Rendezvous they donated for the grand prize is one sweet flats boat. One of the guys at the firehouse has one. It’s a seventeen-foot modified V-hull with a wide beam. It comes with a 90 Merc four-stroke. Those babies plane quickly and give you a really dry ride. It’s also got a nice high console and only has a nine-inch draft. Mike takes his almost anywhere. He even takes it to Marvin Key. He loves that boat like family.

Plus don’t forget Blanchard is allowing the use of his 62 foot Lagoon cat for the day. I can’t wait to see it. That thing must be a seven figure floating palace, Betsy said.

After the stop at Parrotdise, the run was scheduled to take them to Geiger Key Marina and then to Hurricane Hole before the last stop at Blanchard’s catamaran. This was going to be a fun day.

Will looked off the bow. The Blanchards’ boat had vanished from sight. They saw other boats dotting the horizon in every direction.

An hour later Jason commented, Pine Channel coming up. Parrotdise is our next stop.

They immediately saw Pine Channel. Jason slowed the Grady-White and guided the boat past the Dolphin Marina and through the channel to the bayside. Within a couple of minutes the Parrotdise dock appeared. A multitude of other boats were already there. Some people could be seen upstairs in the restaurant; there was a line of people purchasing their dice from volunteers manning the picnic tables under the stilts of the building; another group of boaters was talking to people and partying on the sandy beach or out on the long dock. They could hear the din of before they landed. The Hades was docked at one end of the dock. A throng of people were gawking at it. Will heard a C.W. Colt recording playing on the outdoor speakers.

The best thing that ever happened to me

Now that you’ve gone and changed

You’re the best thing that happened to me

The best thing that ever happened to me

The best thing that ever happened to me…

Within thirty minutes most boaters were off again, scooting through Pine Channel into the Atlantic, headed for Geiger Key Marina. Once again the Blanchard’s go-fast boat left the pack like it was standing still.

About the time the Sundance II passed Summerland Key, Will looked over at Betsy.

You’re being awfully quiet, he said.

I’ve been thinking, she answered.

Hope you didn’t hurt something you need, Will kidded and playfully tossed a piece of popcorn at her.

Will, Jason interrupted grinning. You know why they don’t teach donkeys how to talk?

Why? Will bit.

Because nobody likes a smart ass, Jason said.

We must all be getting punchy from the bouncing, Betsy said. Now, what I was starting to say, fellows, before I was suddenly interrupted, was I’ve been thinking this is going to be a very worthwhile fundraiser for Neil Dixon’s widow. I counted 98 boats back at Parrotdise. Each of them paid a $250 entry fee to be there – that’s $24,500. They are buying dice at each stop at $10.00 per dice. If each boat buys just one dice roll at each stop that’s another $980, but there’s three or four people on each boat so that revenue could be more like three to four thousand dollars. They’re also going to make some money off the participants while they’ve got a captive audience on that sixty-two foot luxury catamaran. My bank chipped in $5,000. Blanchard is donating the Hades Rendezvous for nothing, so I figure Neil’s widow will get thirty five thousand plus from this fundraiser.

That should be a good start for a college fund for the kids, Will said. I’m glad we participated.

So am I, Jason agreed. By the way, we’ll turn by Bird Key and go by Saddle Bunch Key into Geiger. From there we’ll head for Hurricane Hole in Key West.

The trip was fun but uneventful to the Hurricane Hole. After grabbing a bite to eat and buying more dice, the Sundance II headed for its final destination, the 62-foot Lagoon catamaran anchored seven miles offshore. About five miles out Betsy spied an object on the horizon. She called it to Will and Jason’s attention. Jason looked at it through his glasses.

Looks like a boat drifting. Maybe someone’s diving off it…but I don’t see a dive flag.

We’d better check it out, Will said. Maybe someone has run out of gas or their motor won’t crank.

As they approached the boat they saw it was indeed adrift. At first it seemed to be abandoned. As they pulled alongside though, it was apparent they were wrong. A horrible stench rolled off the boat and overpowered them. Flies seemed to be everywhere. Betsy and Will both gagged. Jason instinctively grabbed the mike on the VHF and called in their find on Channel 16.

"This is the Sundance II (over)

This is Coast Guard sector Key West (go ahead)

We have come upon a boat adrift approximately five miles out of Key West. The person aboard appears to be dead. (over)

What is your exact location? (over)

Our GPS position is N2427.40, W8151.48 (over)

Do you plan to stay with the boat until we get there? (over)

Affirmative. We have a line attached to the boat and will remain here until you arrive. (over)

We will dispatch a vessel immediately. Stand-by. (over)"

Thirty-four minutes later Will and Betsy heard the twin 225 Hondas and saw the distinctive orange foam-filled flotation collar of the Secure All-around Flotation Equipped boat commonly called a SAFE boat on the horizon. Jason was familiar with SAFE boats, but this was the first one Will and Betsy had ever seen. Safe boats had been adopted by the Coast Guard in 2003 and had been replacing the Coast Guard’s older boats since that time. They were 25 feet in length and powered by twin outboards. They were capable of speeds in excess of 46 knots and had a range of up to 150 miles. This one carried an M240 machine gun in the bow. It appeared to be an inflatable boat but actually was an aluminum-hulled vessel with a foam-filled flotation collar. The boat carried a three-man crew and one more person Will and Betsy recognized.

FBI Agent Lee Diaz, Betsy called out. It’s a pleasure to see you again.

And you as well, Diaz said. I trust you haven’t found any bombs in your car recently.

Once was plenty, Betsy said.

So now you have switched to finding dead bodies, Diaz retorted.

Yes, danger must be replacing the banking business, Betsy said.

One of the Coast Guard men boarded the vessel and turned the body face up.

Will, Betsy, and Jason all gasped, I know who this person is.

As do I, said Lee Diaz. Most locals do know who he is – Geoffrey Watson, one of Key West’s wealthiest and most prominent citizens.

One of the Coast Guardsmen called out to Diaz, Agent Diaz, there appear to be narcotics on this boat.

Well, well, well, Diaz said, running his fingers through his hair as he thought. You may have stumbled onto a most interesting situation, Mrs. Black.

Within an hour, Diaz had completed his initial crime scene investigation and quizzed the Blacks and Jason Pearson. The SAFE boat prepared to tow the Watson boat back to Key West. Betsy explained to Diaz that they hoped to make the final part of the Neil Dixon fundraiser. Diaz gave them permission to leave and told them to have a good time.

Will, Betsy and Jason finally navigated the Sundance II the remainder of the two miles out to the Blanchard catamaran. A banner proclaimed

WELCOME TO THE NEIL DIXON BENEFIT

The festive atmosphere was almost overwhelming as they approached the luxurious yacht. Even from a distance wafting out over the water was the sound of Howard Livingston playing one of his compositions. His friend, Ron Bauman, was playing his harmonica. Howard and Ron had donated their services for the afternoon to help raise money for the Dixon family.

The Beach Boys