“You’ll never give in.”
“How much are they asking for the boat?”
“They said something like eighty-three thousand.”
“Well, that might be doable. Might be. We’d have the DEA breathing down our necks if it was any more. Miami is Grand Central Station for the distribution of cocaine. They watch out for people who are living beyond their means. You’d be Number One on their list with that Maserati. No, what you need is something more subtle. I’ll go along with the boat, but only after this next operation. If they ask you where you got your money, say I loaned twenty grand to you and that the rest you got from the bank. Once we have our money, you can go down to First National and take out a loan for the rest. This has to look like it’s on the up and up.”
“How much are you banking on what we’ll take home from the haul?”
“This is supposedly rocks of cocaine. The purest I’ve never seen yet. It’s still in crystalline form. That’s how pure it is. He’s got the coke in one-kilogram sacks. It’s easily enough to bring in twenty million on delivery. I’m sure that they will at least double that at sale. The man has never lied or exaggerated to me about the quality of the product. I imagine that the big boys will give us their customary fee. The standard fee and then on how much product we sell for them. Bobbie Enstrom is talking of taking one to two kilograms off our hands — the same as Higgins. The rest are just waiting to see what the market does. They don’t have the money on hand to move it like the other two do.”
At this, Jake continued his tirade. Hewlett raised his right hand, raising it as though he was the Justice of the Peace in a small town swearing somebody in. The moment that Jake paused, Hewlett said, “Now, back to the deal you made when I was up in Vail?”
“I had to move right away or lose out on it altogether while you were up skiing in Vail. It was just a very small proposition. One you didn’t have to know anything about.”
“It’s not so little now. We need the guy you bit on the ass. Now I have to make this right.” Tamping it down, he felt his ire rise. Anger was not the way to deal with Jake. It was like getting mad at a small child who’d made a mess. Diplomacy was the only way to get through to Townsend, and even that didn’t always work. He would allow Jake to get the boat, but only with the stipulation that he’d never move on any product without telling him. If no amount of diplomacy worked, then he would get angry with his cousin. When one acts like a foolish child, he should expect to be treated like a foolish child. “These guys earn their money. You don’t mess with them for chump change. This isn’t about his fee anyway. The real bullshit was when you didn’t tell me about some small deal that could have potentially put us at risk.”
Townsend started to say something, but his cousin silenced him again.
“For god’s sake, Jake. Just shut up. Shut up while you’re ahead.”
Though he owed Hewlett some sort of apology, none was forthcoming. Hewlett had done everything he could to smooth the waters. But who knew? In this business, one lived and died by his reputation. “I was going to tell you.” They lived and died in other ways, ways to numerous to count. One week a long time ago, while Hewlett was a senior in high school, the DEA busted his friend, Brian Mitchell, a boy a couple years older than Hewlett. The next week, Brian Mitchell was dead. He was found hanging from the limb of a eucalyptus tree just outside the Everglades. Never finding the killers, the authorities just assumed it was a drug deal that went bad. The whole thing was that precarious. A night. A deal. Something gone wrong. Someone died, and there would never be an answer.
“You should have told me the minute things went south.” Hewlett felt as though he were lecturing a young child. To be caught in just such a situation was the writing on the wall for Hewlett to get out.
Together they sat on the park bench next to the sidewalk in Simon Bolivar Park. Their office adjoined the park, and it was scarcely possible for the DEA or any other federal drug enforcement agencies to listen into their conversations regarding their small, but insidious, enterprise when they talked matters regarding business there.
“I still think that the deal you struck with Davis is outrageous.” Jake Townsend inhaled deeply from the cigarette he had smoked nearly down to the filter.
Hewlett, sipping on a can of cold Coca-Cola in the heat, shrugged his shoulders. “An even one million. That’s what he claims. Who knows?”
“That’s big of him.” Townsend had been drinking a can of 7UP. He took a drag from his cigarette and then one last gulp from his can. He dumped the dead cigarette into the can and tossed it toward the metal trashcan at the end of the concrete dais where he sat with Hewlett. The cigarette hit the rim of the trash receptacle and bounced out. Not bothering to pick it up, he prattled on. “Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.”
Hewlett took one last sip from the red and silver can of Coca-Cola crumpling it in one hand and placed it in the trashcan, “How is it I didn’t hear about it?” Pigeons, all grey and white, gathered at their feet. As always, Hewlett fed them crumbs. He then placed Jake’s crushed soda can in the trash receptacle.
Always bringing small morsels of bread for the pigeons, he doled out the breadcrumbs as he sat on the park bench. “Let’s forget it and hope it doesn’t surface?”
The members of the firm didn’t know about either one’s proclivities of their private life, especially when it came to the cocaine.
Although half a dozen years older than his cousin, Townsend had recruited Hewlett to help him sell coke when he was a high school student. As someone old enough to be out of college, Townsend thought dealing to high school age students was an invitation to be arrested. What he needed was a partner. Despite being a recreational user, Paul Hewlett seldom used drugs stronger than alcohol. Though occasionally, he would smoke a joint with an intimate friend. It was when he was a junior in high school that Jake recruited his cousin to help him sell cocaine, a drug he’s tried maybe a half-dozen times. Mesmerized by the sheer margins of money that he could make, he was no less beguiled by the thrill of the illegal transactions. Though outwardly not intimidating, Hewlett, who had practiced martial arts since he was in junior high school, could handle himself if the situation got out of hand, which they were known to do. From the beginning, after several long talks about the business, Townsend was convinced he had the makings for a natural dealer in his cousin. It was a portentous discovery for the both of them.
Hewlett started out at the level of a street dealer. Townsend gave him a list of the high school students who came to him for their coke. It was a list of no more than a dozen fellow high school students, students whom Townsend trusted the most with their shared secret. When the user ran out of coke, he would contact Hewlett, who in turn would pick up the specified amount from Townsend and deliver it to Townsend’s client. The majority of users were fellow students, and they conveyed their need for the product in the hallways. Hewlett took a percentage of the sale. In order to avoid attention, Hewlett set up bank accounts at several banks, listing his cousin’s address as his own. Although he discouraged new clients, the list of people he serviced slowly — very, very slowly — grew. Furtive as a spy, his clients appreciated his discretion as much as he appreciated theirs.
Hewlett had several ground rules in the selection of his clients. First and foremost, Hewlett would not sell to anyone that he didn’t know well, nor would he sell to those less than eighteen, fresh out of high school. In the mid-to-late 70s, drug use in the Miami high schools was rampant. As one police chief left, and another came in, they swore that they’d shut down the drug use within their jurisdiction. Each pronouncement of the police that they were cracking down on drugs brought on an increase in the number of undercover cops. Because of this, Hewlett and Townsend refused to sell to anyone that they didn’t know personally and hadn’t known for a long time. As far as they knew, they weren’t even on the DEA’s radar.
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