Deadly Cargo

By Scott Allan

Our story picks up where the Paramedic left you hanging. Wes has fled to Spain to avoid being questioned for the grisly murder of an undercover cop. While hiding out, Wess brother shows up to offer him a deal. Full immunity for all his crimes under one condition; work undercover for the Government!
Wes agrees to the condition, but theres a problem. He cant tell his partner about his involvement with the government. Everything goes according to the plan until someone is double crossed.
Lives become endangered while a deep dark secret intertwines itself into the story and stays hidden until the final confrontation. Only one will survive the carnage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Trafford Publishing
• Release date: Apr 5, 2016
• ISBN: 9781490770000

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

T he old freighter looked tired as it listed in the Port of Tripoli's murky waters. The ship was to leave in the morning, and dock hands were loading the last containers on board. There would be a few ports of call in Africa before the rust bucket made its way across the Atlantic toward Cuba. After unloading two containers in Havana, the broken-down ship would end its voyage in Venezuela.

The ship's captain was a stocky Libyan who had made the trip numerous times before, carrying everything from refrigerators to machine guns. This time, though, he had two passengers to deliver to Cartagena. Their names were Abbas and Jafar, and they sat across from him at a table in the ship's galley.

Abbas was the taller of the two. His eyes were black as coal. He had a large nose and a beard that desperately needed trimming. A three-inch scar ran down the right side of his face. Jafar was slight by comparison, his demeanor more like that of a college professor. They were brought aboard by a third Arab named Bahir, who handed the captain an envelope stuffed with money. The captain quickly counted it and said, Thank you.

Bahir stood up and shook his hand. Then he turned to Abbas and whispered into his ear, May Allah be with you. He did the same with Jafar and then bid them farewell. After Bahir left, Abbas told the captain that he and Jafar would like to retire to their room.

The captain led the two Arabs up a flight of stairs and down a hall to a state room. It was small and cramped, with bunk beds and one tiny table in the corner. The air inside was stale and reeked of the sweaty men that had occupied the room on the last trip. Abbas didn't mind. This wasn't a pleasure cruise for him and Jafar. The reality was that neither of them expected to ever come back. This was a suicide mission.

The captain told the two they would head out to sea first thing in the morning, and he would check on them once they departed. He closed the door and left Abbas and Jafar alone with their belongings. They each had a backpack for their personal effects. Abbas also had a metal briefcase that was thicker than average with a combination lock to make sure nobody accidently opened it. He set the case on the table and admired it like it was holy. He rubbed his hand on the top, trying to feel the power that was inside. Then Abbas took the case and slid it under the bed. He got down on his knees and faced Mecca as he prayed to Allah for victory. When he was done he looked at Jafar and said, Our destiny awaits us in the land of the infidel.

CHAPTER 2

W es relaxed in the oversized seat of the G-6 jet as it soared over the Atlantic Ocean. He stared out the window and followed the white trails of foam that the freighters and tankers left behind as they carved their way through the cobalt water. He imagined himself on the deck of one of the mammoth vessels with his face bombarded by the salty combination of air and sea. It had been more than two months since he set foot on a boat, and he felt envious of the crews on the ships below.

Wes closed his eyes and remembered the last time he was on a boat. He was in Treasure Cay aboard his brother-in-law's forty-six foot Bertram, reuniting with his wife before they escaped to Spain. The police in Miami wanted to question him about a string of murders that had taken place over the last few weeks. Wes was totally innocent, but he'd left a huge mess back in the States and didn't feel like being stuck in a prison cell while his high priced lawyers fought to get him released. No, he was much better off at his sister's flat on the coast of Ibiza, enjoying sangria and tapas while trying to negotiate a more reasonable alternative.

The important thing was that he had avenged the brutal murder of his best friend Danny by killing the scumbag who was guilty. The fact that he angered some Colombian drug lords in the process mattered little. The mother-fucker deserved it, and that was that. Wes didn't care if he had to spend the rest of his life on the run. What he did was justified. Besides, if you had to live in exile, there wasn't a better place to do it than on the white, sandy beaches of Ibiza.

While in Spain fate arrived in the form of his brother. Alex walked through his sister's front door and gave her a warm hug. Then he walked over and glared at his brother. Wes felt like he was ten years old again. Alex was older by six years and had always intimidated his little brother. That changed somewhat when Alex became a Navy Seal. He turned into more of a mentor and a teacher. Now he stared at Wes with a look that said he was very serious.

He explained that he was working for a classified government agency involved with national security and that he was here to help get Wes back into the United States. Alex said there was some unfinished business with the Colombians pertaining to a drug shipment that was ripped off in Miami. The Government knew about Wes's drug smuggling operation, and they thought he might be useful to them. Alex didn't have all the details, but he knew that the Government was willing to give Wes a clean slate if he was willing to cooperate.

A thousand thoughts entered Wes's mind as he listened to his brother lay out their plan. They wanted him to continue his drug smuggling operation and to provide information on who he was working for and what he was smuggling into the States. Wes didn't like the idea of being a rat, but the reality was that he didn't have many options. The one good thing about this arrangement was that his brother Alex would be his handler.

That was two days ago. Now Wes sat in the plush leather seat of a Government jet flying six-hundred miles an hour back to South Florida where it all started. He stretched his neck and saw Piper sleeping in her seat. She was the main reason he was returning to the States as a Government operative. While they were in Spain, she told him she was pregnant. That changed everything. Even though he'd created enough layers in his illegal enterprise to keep himself insulated, there was always the chance that he could go to prison. Piper knew the risks; she had always accepted the fact that he could go away. But a baby meant his priorities had to change. Wes was excited at the prospect of being a father, but part of him still yearned for the life of a smuggler.

Air pressure started to build inside his ears as the Gulfstream began its descent toward Fort Lauderdale. It wouldn't be long before the jet touched down and Wes was back on his own turf. His brother Alex was in the seat behind him. Alex leaned forward and touched Wes on the arm. Almost there, little brother. I hope you're ready.

Wes took a last look out at the ocean as it changed from deep blue to turquoise. Familiar reefs stuck out as dark shadows on the sea, and Wes grew anxious to be home and back in the water, where he was the most comfortable.

CHAPTER 3

T he G-6 landed at Fort Lauderdale Executive Airport with a soft thud. The pilot taxied to a generic hanger at the end of the runway and maneuvered the sleek craft inside. He shut down the engines and lowered the stairway. Alex exited first with Wes and Piper following. A black Chevy Suburban with a dark haired man casually leaning against it awaited them. The stranger wore shorts and a button down shirt with a Hawaiian print on it. He had a square jaw with a smile that exuded confidence. Alex got to the bottom of the stairs and gave his partner a slap on the back as he introduced him. Guys I'd like you to meet my associate Sloan Campbell.

Wes could tell that Sloan was in excellent shape and was probably a Special Forces soldier like his brother. Sloan firmly shook Wes's hand. Your brother has told me a lot about you. None of it good.

I guess that qualifies me to work with the government, Wes replied.

Sloan laughed and slapped Wes on the back. I like you already kid. Wes had to catch his balance from the force of the hit. He hurried to introduce his wife before Sloan wacked him again. Sloan gently took her hand in his and said, It's nice to meet you Miss.

The ride from the airport to Wes's house was about thirty minutes and Alex did most of the talking. When the Suburban pulled into the driveway and stopped in front of the large wrought iron gate, Wes reached out of his window and punched in a code on a black control box. A red light on the panel blinked once, turned green and the giant metal gate slowly swung open.

Two black figures bounded from around the side of the house, barking at the unwelcome vehicle that was invading their territory. The large German Shepherds surrounded the car, snarling and baring their teeth. Wes stuck his head out of his open window. Be quiet, he commanded. Upon hearing their master's familiar voice, the two dogs quickly changed their demeanor and started wagging their tails.

Sharky and Mako ran around in circles and barked in excitement as Piper stepped out of the truck and hugged her two furry bodyguards. The dogs would fight to the death protecting Piper against anybody that intended her harm. They had been bred and trained since birth to be the ultimate team in personal protection. To Piper they were her best friends.

Sloan opened his door and began to get out of the vehicle to help with the baggage. Mako immediately turned his attention to the stranger, quickly cornering the agent against the truck. Sloan put his hands in a defensive position to protect himself. The canine bared his teeth and growled, causing the startled agent to freeze.

Mako, down, Wes quickly commanded.

The dog retreated and sat down at his master's side. Sorry about that. He smelled your gun and was just letting you know that he knows.

Smart dog. Can I pet him?

Sure. Wes looked at Mako and said, Friend. The dog ran back over to Sloan and wagged his tail. The agent cautiously patted him on the head.

Alex laughed at his partner's predicament as he grabbed his brother's luggage. Wes smiled as he walked to the house and found the hide-a-key that was hidden by the front door. He unlocked the door and, before he opened it, said to his brother, I just want to thank you again for all of the help.

Alex looked at his brother and replied, We still have a long way to go.

He gave Wes a hug and headed for the Suburban. Wes watched the black truck disappear down the street and thought about the implications of what he just heard.

He walked into the house and smiled as he surveyed his surroundings. He had only been away for a few months, but it felt like a lifetime. Being back in South Florida brought back all the memories of why he had to leave in the first place. His best friend Danny had gotten involved with a pack of steroid-crazed cops and ended up dead because of it. Wes had hunted down the piece of shit that killed his friend and fed him to the gators. Some would say that he had killed a man in cold blood, but Wes justified it as ridding the world of a piece of garbage.

He felt neither guilt nor remorse over what had happened; it was just business as usual for the drug dealers and smugglers of Miami.

Most of the time his life was uneventful, and there were wads of cash to be made. There were times though, when money made people act unpredictably. Wes had been able to navigate those treacherous waters for a long time without much trouble, but Danny's killing had caused him to take the law into his own hands. When Wes finally disposed of the killer in the Everglades, he was forced to flee the country for Spain, leaving some of his friends thinking he was dead. One of those friends was Dave Disco Foley, a homicide detective with the police department that was investigating Danny's murder.

Wes hadn't spoken to Foley since he left him stranded at the E-Z Fish Camp in the Glades thinking that he was dead. Wes was sure that Foley knew by now that he was alive and would be pissed that he had played him. Foley had always had a bad temper and could hold a grudge, so Wes figured he would have to call Dave and let him know he was back in town before the detective saw him in public. No doubt Dave would arrest him on the spot otherwise.

Wes shivered as he thought about calling his cop friend and decided it could wait. First he had to call Jag, his brother-in-law and partner. After that, he would grit his teeth and make the call to Disco. He looked out the French doors that led to the backyard and saw Piper petting Sharky and Mako. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, exposing her muscular back and strong shoulders. She looked his way and pierced him with her emerald green eyes. Piper motioned for him to come outside, and suddenly Wes forgot all about the phones calls he needed to make.

CHAPTER 4

A lex sat in the passenger seat of the Suburban as it pulled away from his brother's house and turned onto the street. He looked at Sloan, who was driving.

What do think of the kid?

Too early to tell, but I know one thing.

What's that?

I almost had to kill that dog.

That would have been a fight I'd liked to have seen.

You should be more worried about your brother.

Don't worry about my brother; I've trained him well.

You know Parker won't have a problem using him as he sees fit; even if that means leaving him for the vultures.

Parker was General Douglas Parker, and he was in charge of the two agents in the car. They were members of an elite, secret team that was part of the Navy Seals. These two soldiers were never called upon for rescue missions; their only purpose was to search and destroy.

Alex had to admit he was a little confused as to why Parker needed Wes. He knew that Wes's name had popped up on the General's radar when he was a suspect in a string of murders in South Florida. It was no secret that Wes was a drug dealer, but murder was a different story. Parker simply told Alex that he knew Wes was hiding out in Spain and to go get him. The General somehow learned that Wes had dealings with the Colombians, and he had an offer for him. The deal was total immunity for any illegal activities to date in exchange for Wes's cooperation. Alex wasn't sure what that meant, but he thought it was a good deal for his brother, so he flew to Spain and convinced Wes to come home. Now it was time to find out just how Parker was going to use his little brother.

Alex leaned forward and asked Sloan if he knew what the mission was.

No I don't, but we'll find out in about an hour when we meet with the General.

He's in town?

I have an address in Palm Beach.

If the General came in from Washington, then this definitely was an important mission. Alex just hoped he hadn't gotten his brother into something that was too dangerous.

CHAPTER 5

T he room was as dark as a cave buried deep in the mountains. The temperature lumbered around 65 degrees. The sun rode high in the sky, but the two people under the covers were unaware of the time of day. The loud sound of a telephone on the table beside the bed only registered as a muffled ping. Jag slowly opened his eyes as he recognized the sound of his cell phone. He pulled the cover off of his head and blinked his eyes while they adjusted to the lack of light. He knew that he was in his own bed, but for the life of him he couldn't remember how he had gotten there. He glanced over at the slender figure next to him with her long blonde hair and couldn't remember her either. Whoever she was, she was beautiful. He lightly touched the small of her back and became excited as she started to moan.

Jag was about to roll her over when his phone rang again. Cursing, he turned over to answer it, and a smile came to his face when he looked at the caller ID. Please tell me you're back in town.

What's the matter, nobody to play with? Wes answered on the other end.

Jag looked over at the naked body sleeping next to him. Oh, I have somebody to play with. But I'm happy to hear my partner is back and hopefully ready to get back to making money.

Wes laughed. Let's hook up tomorrow, and you can fill me in on what I've missed.

There are waves up coast. How bout I pick you up early?

Excited at the prospect of a surf trip, Wes immediately accepted.

Good. Tell my little sister to have breakfast ready when I get there.

Good luck with that. Wes replied and hung up.

Jag returned his cell phone to the night stand and lay back in bed with his hands behind his head. He'd been taking it easy since Wes fled to Spain, but now he was ready to get back to what they did best -- smuggling drugs into Florida via the Bahamas. Jag loved the obscene amount of money he made running drugs, but what really got him off was the rush of adrenaline he felt driving his boat through the black of night, playing cat and mouse with the Coast Guard. He called it risking everything for the thrill of beating the man.

Jag laughed to himself and thought about all the times he and Wes had narrowly escaped being captured or killed. It was crazy how excited he was to get back to it. He just hoped Wes would be equally enthusiastic. It had only been a few months since Danny's murder. Jag was afraid that his brother- -in-law might have lost his taste for the drug business or that his sister might be bugging him to get out now that she was pregnant.

Jag put his hands behind his head and decided it would be up to him to talk some sense into Wes. The naked blonde in bed next to him rolled over and revealed a perfect pair of breasts. Jag completely forgot what he was thinking about as he stared at her long legs and cleanly shaven body. He began to rub her gently and whispered in her ear, What was your name?

CHAPTER 6

W es shook his head as he hung up the phone. There was never a dull moment when Jag was involved, and life hadn't been the same since the two first met. Wes was attending the University of Florida and living in Gainesville with Piper, who was just his girlfriend at the time. Jag was on his way from New Orleans to Miami and figured he'd stop by and say hello to his little sister.

Jag slid his truck to a stop in front of their apartment and blasted inside sporting a cowboy hat and a pair of Ray Bans. He pulled out a bag of weed and a wad of hundred dollar bills, twisted a joint, took a piss, and threw his sister a chunk of money. Then he clambered out the door as fast as he'd entered.

After Wes graduated, he tried working at a real job, but the temptation of easy money was just too great. Jag persuaded him to quit his job and work for him for ten times his current salary. At first he was a mule driving a car from Miami to New Orleans with a trunk full of blow. On the way back, he'd bring a suitcase full of cash. He eventually married Piper and became partners with Jag. Their business was smuggling illegal contraband from the Bahamas into South Florida. At first they used the forty six foot Bertram sport fishing boat that Jag inherited from his father. They quickly expanded and now owned a fleet of boats that included everything from jet skis to speed boats capable of close to one hundred miles per hour.

Jag had connections in the Bahamas thanks to his father's business dealings there. Wes never met Piper's father but knew that he'd had a lumber company and owned the exclusive rights to supply the Island chain with construction materials. He died unexpectedly from cancer at the age of fifty. Jag was eighteen when it happened and was bitter about losing his father, while Piper was only twelve and confused. Their mother Patsy sold the business and retired to a privileged life of country clubs and martinis.

Jag was angry about his father's untimely death, but spending time on the family sport fish eased the pain. He had plenty of great memories of fishing and diving on his father's Bertram. After his dad died and left him the sport fish, Jag took it to the islands frequently to clear his mind and to visit his longtime friend Steve. Steve was the son of Jag's father's Bahamian partner and Jag had known him since they were kids. On one particular trip, the boys were scuba diving a secret spot when a plane flew low overhead and began to drop bails of weed into the ocean. The two boys quickly hoisted a few of them into the boat and drove back to Steve's. Jag smuggled them home to Miami the next night, and thus began his career as a smuggler.

Wes put his phone on the table and smiled as he picked up an old black and white picture of Jag and Piper's father; John Sr. He was a young man and was in the Keys standing on the old seven mile bridge holding up a tarpon that weighed more than ninety pounds. He couldn't have been more than twenty and wore a smile as big as the sunset in the background. Wes held the snapshot in his hand and looked at it with envy. How cool it must have been to live in South Florida before it became commercialized. Back when Bogart filmed Key Largo and Hemingway lived in Key West. Wes took one last look at the chiseled jaw of the kid in the picture and silently thanked him as he placed the photo back on the table.

CHAPTER 7

1948

J ohn Garrison carefully held the live bait between his thumb and forefinger, not wanting to crush it. His other hand held a fishing hook with razor sharp barbs that he'd filed himself. He gently impaled the shrimp behind the head and pushed until the pointed end of the hook popped out close to the tail. The trick was to the keep the bait alive and jumpy until it was attacked by a hungry, unsuspecting fish. He grabbed his rod and pulled it back high over his head like an ax as if he was readying to split wood. The fiberglass pole flexed as he whipped the rod forward and sent the translucent shrimp flying through the air and into the Atlantic Ocean.

As the drift pulled his bait from the shallow green water toward the deep blue, John watched his line slowly float out toward the horizon. Tiny white caps crested for as far as the eye could see.

John and his brother Bobby had parked on the west side of the Seven Mile Bridge and hiked to the middle of the closed railroad bridge between Marathon and Big Pine Key. The Seven Mile Bridge, a marvel of highway technology, had only opened a few years before. The original railroad bridge that Henry Flagler built was damaged in the 1936 hurricane and was now deserted.

The two boys were taking full advantage. The new bridge was meant to connect the lower Keys with the rest of the world, but in reality, this was still a lazy archipelago of tiny islands strewn together first by Flagler's railroad and now by the Seven Mile Bridge to nowhere.

It was three and a half miles to the middle of the bridge. Very few people made the journey. Most anglers figured the fishing was just as good a couple of hundred feet from the end of either side. John liked the feeling of being out in the middle of the ocean, and this was as close as he could get to that feeling without a boat.

The sun began to set, and the sky changed from powder blue to burnt orange. As John watched the sun set, he daydreamed about his girlfriend back in Miami. Patsy was a senior at Killian High, and she was talking about going to college or getting married. The prospect of either one scared the hell out of John. He hated the thought of her going away, but he wasn't sure he was ready to be married. It wasn't a question of his future or if he could be a good provider. He worked for his father's lumber company, and one day it would be his.

His older brother Bobby wanted nothing to do with the lumber business; he preferred the solitude of living on a tiny island 150 miles south of Miami. Bobby wanted to keep living on Big Pine Key and be a commercial fisherman, so that left John to take over the Atlantic Lumber Company.

John's grandfather had started the business back in the early 1920s, when Henry Flagler decided to extend his railroad all the way to the growing city of Miami. The town was more of an outpost than a city; only the most robust of men could withstand the heat and mosquitoes of the swamp that surrounded the sandy beaches. John and Bobby's grandfather, Roland Garrison, owned a lumber mill in Virginia with his brothers, and he saw the opportunity to expand their business. His brothers thought him a fool, but Roland moved south with a rugged determination.

His timing proved to be perfect. The railroad brought with it a building boom, and the young Garrison had a budding business within six months of moving south. The onset of prohibition in 1923 provided even greater opportunity.

Fortunately for Florida, the Bahamas did not recognize the new law and continued to produce legal rum. It wasn't long before a couple of fishermen discovered they could make a lot more money smuggling booze than they could fishing all day. Soon, a small army of rum runners ran up and down the entire US coastline. The best boats were manufactured in South Florida and the Bahamas, and the young Garrison became the main supplier of marine plywood to all of the boat builders. By the time prohibition was lifted, the Atlantic Lumber Company was the biggest supplier of building materials to the Bahamas and Florida.

John's father took over the company after World War II, and the company grew even bigger as it supplied a growing Miami. John and Bobby had always worked beside their father and knew that one day they would be the owners.

As they grew older, the two brothers would travel down to the Keys to fish. One day while driving back from Key Largo, Bobby told his brother that he wanted to live doing what he loved and was going to become a commercial fisherman. Bobby had moved down to Big Pine Key a year ago and had only been back to the mainland once. John wouldn't be surprised if his brother never set foot out of the Keys again, and why should he? Bobby had his beautiful wife and he lived off the ocean. It wasn't about money down there. It was living a simple and relaxed lifestyle. There were better ways to live one's life than the pursuit of money.

John leaned back against the concrete railing, daydreaming about living down in the keys with Bobby. Suddenly, He felt his rod tug gently as his live bait tempted a curious fish. The line became taught and then began to unspool rapidly, as the unsuspecting fish took the bait.

John silently counted to three and then pulled back on the rod, setting the hook deep inside the mouth of the fish. The water exploded as a giant tarpon flung itself toward the sky and violently thrashed about. John knew right away that it was the biggest one he'd ever seen. He battled the monster for more than an hour as it struggled to wrap his line around a bridge pylon to get free. John was an experience fisherman, though, and patiently wore the fish down. Bobby leaned over the guard rail reaching down with his extra long gaff that he'd made especially for bridges.

I got him!

Bobby screamed with delight as he hoisted their prize onto the bridge. John stuck his hand into the fishes gill, lifting the tarpon up high as high as he could, but the tail still hit the ground. Bobby quickly grabbed his camera from his bag. There was no need to tell his brother to smile as he snapped a picture.

CHAPTER 8

T he highway wound itself around the contours of the coast as it headed north through Palm Beach County. Old money mansions owned by families with last names like DuPont, Vanderbilt, and Kennedy lined the beach hidden by twenty foot hedges and solid wood gates. Alex and Sloan could only guess as to what the massive homes looked like.

Sloan sat in the passenger seat. He looked at Alex and asked, Are you sure you have the right address?

It's what the General gave me, Alex replied as he looked for the right house. Five blocks later he saw the gate with the numbers he was looking for.

He turned into the driveway and stopped in front of an enormous wood gate decorated with wrought iron. He spotted an intercom and rolled down the window, reaching out and pressing a button on the panel. A camera mounted on a pole slowly turned toward him as a voice said, Hello from the intercom.

Alex stuck his head out of the window so the camera could get a good look at him and said, Domino's Pizza.

There was no reply, but the gate slowly opened and revealed a long winding driveway with manicured trees and grass on both sides. Alex and Sloan quickly noted two security guards with machine guns slung over their shoulders patrolling the grounds.

Nice digs. I wonder who the owner is, Sloan remarked as the car made its way to the house.

I don't really care who owns it; I just need to see the person inside. Alex shut off the engine and opened the car door.

The two guards met them as they got out of their vehicle and escorted them to the front of the house without saying a word. They opened the door and pointed to the inside.

Chatty couple of guys, Sloan said as he walked in and closed the door behind him.

The two soldiers just stood and examined the interior. The foyer had a twenty foot ceiling expanding over the entire formal living room and ending with a glass wall that gave an unobstructed view of the ocean. A large white leather couch sat in front of a fireplace.

Alex could see the back