Tom smiled at the corners of his mouth. His recruits were not easy people to pin down. Farris was a known smuggler who had followed in the footsteps of his father, also a professional smuggler. Tom reminded himself that Farris was Bahamian and smuggling in the Bahamas was a well respected profession. He had owned that shack long before he met his wife. Linda Wilson was Ivy League. She came from old, industrial money. All she had to do was let her accountants clip coupons and deposit whatever she needed in her bank account. She was still a member of the Board of the company she had inherited but other than a few meetings a year she seemed to leave operations entirely to others. Phil Harrison was a tall, handsome engineer who seemed to have made a lot of money over a five year period in both the stock market and in real estate and was now living the life of Riley with his girlfriend, Judy Simpson. He had worked for a large engineering firm and later formed a small consulting firm with a senior co-worker. They had made a lot of money in just a few consulting contracts but when his partner died suddenly, Phil cashed in his partnership insurance, closed down the firm and went off treasure hunting. Apparently Judy had accompanied him but they had no past between them prior to Phil setting sail for the Bahamas. Judy. She had no particular claim to fame other than that she was handy around computers and had worked for a couple of big names in that field. She seemed to have an extraordinary ability in programming and seemed to know intuitively how and where to look for solutions for a problem. Tom checked out her declaration of income. She had been well paid for her endeavors.
Four people, either rich or at least comfortable, all from different fields and yet they operated with a sense of teamwork and co-operation seldom found in today’s egocentric world.
Now Tom noted that the two couples were currently on a private island in the Bahamas, packing their suitcases for a trip to Colombia on board an eighty-foot sailboat. He felt the beginnings of another twinge of jealousy. While he tried to displace that emotion it continued to fester, lingering barely below the surface.
“And I’m all excited about a five thousand dollar a year raise!” he muttered. “Those people probably spend that much on a bottle of wine.”
He banged out a quick covering letter, added his comments to the report and forwarded it to his boss, Dick Whitehorn, who would in turn forward it to the Director. He knew the Director was impatient to hear some information about the contact. What if Eduardo Fernandez refused to meet with Michael Farris and Phil Harrison? If Fernandez delegated someone else, that wouldn’t be too bad. Certainly it would be someone high in the organization. But a flat refusal to do business with an old associate would put Tom Barrens back to pushing paperclips around his desk and avoiding the confectionary when the heavyweights were present. He asked himself the same question he had previously asked, every day for the last three weeks.
“What can I do, today, to successfully further this operation?”
Chapter 8
Iron Pyrate slid into the harbor in Guadeloupe. If the two couples had sported quality tans in Florida, they were all, now, four shades darker. The trip had been magnificent. They had stopped only once, in Puerto Rico, to top up their supplies and spend a few nights wining and dining. This would hopefully reinforce their cover as cruising tourists. They would do the same in Guadeloupe, expanding on the theme by diving in the Jacques Cousteau Marine Reserve and climbing the volcano, La Soufriere.
Phil had been in seventh heaven during the entire voyage and his enthusiasm was infectious amongst his crewmates. On land, he was often willing to let Michael make the decisions, but once at sea even Farris deferred to Phil’s role as Captain. Phil, who could sleep like a log on shore, never slept for more than three hours at a time, at sea. All four people accepted their time at the helm, usually in pairs with one person watching while the other did odd jobs or read, however it was Phil who would intermittently poke his head into the nav station to check the course or arrive in the wheel house with fresh coffee and snacks. If a more difficult task were to be required, it was always Phil who managed to accomplish it. Michael was always right behind lending whatever assistance might be required. When the job was done there were always big grins and hand slaps. Linda and Judy teamed up together sailing the boat magnificently. When the men came on shift, a change that occurred every four hours, everything was always in order. There never seemed to be any task left undone.
During the day, the men and women alternated but at eight o’clock at night someone drew a short shift. That way, at night, there was always a man and a woman on duty, with the assistant changing half way through the regular shift. The change made the nights go by more quickly and had one extra advantage. Everyone was forced by the routine to spend two hours alone with only one other person for company. Though all were best of friends to begin with, the two hours that Phil spent with Linda, or Judy spent with Michael proved to cement their already solid bond. Phil had insisted on that arrangement, stating it was the best way to avoid “cabin fever”. Although the others had balked at first, they soon saw the wisdom of the rule as the long nights slipped by easily and no one had time to get bored.
Other than a couple of quick storms lasting only for an hour or two, the sail to Guadeloupe had been perfect, with both the weather and the boat cooperating as they should. Today, however, was a day to do nothing. There was still loads of food in the freezer, and enough booze and beer to supply the US navy. No one had to stand watch or get up a four o’clock in the morning. The chores on the boat could wait for twenty-four hours. Today was designated a “Nothing Day”.
Phil and Judy lounged on the stern deck, soaking up sun and drinking fruit juice.
“I’ve never seen a volcano, before,” stated Judy, looking toward La Soufriere..
“Me neither. Certainly not looking down, that is,” corrected Phil. “We’ll rent a car tomorrow, drive up as far as we can on the mountain and then hike up to the top, just like real tourists.
“Like tourists! I bet you never pictured yourself as a tourist. You better buy me a Tee shirt! I bet you never pictured yourself, lounging on an eighty-foot boat with a gorgeous creature like me, either. Did you, Sailor?”
Phil looked over at Judy. “No. I can’t say I ever did. I also never pictured myself importing drugs for the DEA.” Phil was no longer smiling.
“How bad do you think this is going to get?” asked Judy.
“The entire key is to never let Fernandez know we are setting him up. No matter what happens, we can’t ever let him know that we plan to burn him. As long as we maintain our covers, everything will be just fine. Blow our covers, and things could get very nasty. You know we don’t have to do this. There’s still time to back out.”
“If I said I wanted to back out you and Michael would figure out some way to go ahead with the operation anyway, so what good would that do? Besides, somewhere along the way, you are going to need the kind of technical support that only I can provide. Now, how about rubbing a bit of that coconut oil on me?”
Phil grinned. “With pleasure.”
Chapter 9
Eduardo Fernandez was without question the third most powerful man in Colombia. He stood a slim six feet tall. At forty-eight years old, his hair was dark with only a touch of grey showing. He wore it combed straight back and it showed only a slight sign of receding at the temples. His face revealed little character but otherwise he might be considered handsome. Unfortunately, with rare exception, his face was devoid of all emotion and evoked the same, unemotional response from those whom he encountered. If Fernandez had one physical characteristic that gave any indication of his character, it was his lips. They were extraordinarily thin, a characteristic often seen in selfish, egocentric people.
Fernandez had few vices or character flaws that were visually apparent. Nevertheless, he did have an uncanny eye for detecting particular flaws in others. The people he determined had the flaws he required were easily found and hired as needed. He was neither cruel nor sadistic personally but the nature of his business required him to keep on payroll a man who had no moral qualms and could skillfully inflict pain on others to