Fiction: Finsoup (a novel) [25]

Bad Moon Rising

By edRogers

[Reviewed here on the novel’s publication day, October 6, 2018: “Coming soon to a Barnes & Noble store near you?”]

Juan got the phone call about six-thirty. An old woman who lived next to the warehouse and was on Juan’s payroll had been watching for the boat with the drugs, and it had arrived. He phoned Charlie. “The boat is here. The boat with the drugs just pulled into port.”
    Charlie tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. “I’ll meet you in front of Restaurant Pescado in half an hour.” He raced out of Margot’s house shouting over his shoulder that he would be back in a little while.
    He had to keep reminding himself to slow down on the motorbike. After all, the motorbike was old and now wasn’t the time to blow the engine or get stopped by the cops.
    Juan was sitting on the seawall when Charlie pulled up. “Get on.” Charlie said. “We’ll look more like we belong down there on this than in your car.”
    Juan threw his left leg over the rear of the bike. “Don’t fucking kill us!”
    Charlie gave the little motorcycle gas and they were off. Juan leaned close to Charlie’s ear. “At the bottom of the hill, pull into the yard of the last house on the right.”
    “Okay, will do.”
    They were only five blocks from the warehouse, so in no time Charlie was parked with the engine turned off. Juan walked to the door, where he was met by a short lady who looked to be in her eighties. Charlie watched him hand her money and start back toward him. “Was that your lookout?”
    “Yes, and a good one at that.”
    Juan pointed. “Look, there’s the boat unloading now.”
    Charlie pulled the clicker from his pocket and shook his head. “I hope this works. I’m not sure what the range is on the signal.”
    “Press the damn thing and we’ll know.”
    Charlie pressed the button, but nothing happened. He ran to the porch, which was a little higher, and pressed it again. “The light is green. It’s working!”
    Juan was smiling. “I’ll have our Nicaraguan friend bring the camera out tomorrow.”
    Charlie wasn’t smiling. “There’s a lot that can go wrong between now and then. All we can do is hope he placed it at the right angle or we could have twenty-hours of a blank floor or ceiling.”
    “You worry too much, Charlie. It turned on, that was more than I had thought would happen. If there are any problems, we’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
    “You’re right, Juan. Do you want me to take you back to your car, or to the guy’s house?”
    “I better go by myself. He has never met you and I don’t want to spook him.”
    Charlie let Juan off at his car and headed back to Margot’s.

Juan parked across the street from Roberto’s house. There was a small amount of light showing through a window from candles placed around the room. He knocked. A little girl opened the door.
    “¿Dónde está, tu pape?”
    Before the girl could answer, Roberto moved her aside and stepped out. Even in the moonlight, Juan could see his face was messed up. His nose was taped as if broken and a large white bandage was wrapped around his head. Juan was sure that if he shined his flashlight on the man he would see blackened eyes. “What the hell happened to you?”
    “A man hit me with a beer bottle.”
    “You need to stay out of bars, my friend.” Juan shook his head. “I’m sorry for your pain, but I need the camera brought out tomorrow.”
    “I cannot do that. They fired me.”
    Juan moved backward a step or two, and his hand went to his mouth. “My God, you can still get in there, can’t you?”
    “No. They took my ID card.”
    “Tell them you left something. Damn, you’ve got to get that camera.”
    “My family and I are going back to Nicaragua tomorrow morning. I no longer have a job, and with a face like this, I won’t be able to get work for a while. We can’t live here with no work.”
    “Is there anyone that you can ask to bring it out for me? I’ll pay both of you.”
    “I didn’t have anything to do with the other workers. They were Ticos, and I was a Nica. Please, you must leave. I don’t want any more trouble. I just want to go home.”
    Juan knew it was a lost cause to keep pushing the man. “Draw me a map showing the exact spot where you placed the camera.”
    “Wait here.” Roberto went back into the house and in a few minutes returned with a map. He handed it to Juan and said, “I’m sorry.”
    Juan took the paper and handed Roberto 10 mil. “Have a safe trip.” He turned and walked back to his car. He stood leaning against the finder for what seemed a long time. Then he made the call. “Charlie, I’ve got some bad news.”
    Charlie had pulled over next to the curb when the phone rang. Upon hearing the news he knew there was only one thing they could do. They agreed to meet the next day and scout the warehouse for a way to get in and retrieve the camera themselves.
    Juan didn’t even want to think about what would happen if they were caught. He pulled through the gate to his house and his wife, Carla, and their son, Felipe, and daughter, Gabriela, were outside on the porch. As he approached the porch, Gabriela ran out and threw her arms around him.
    “Welcome home, pape.”

If Charlie had not been in deep thought about how to get his camera out of the warehouse, he might have noticed the black SUV parked on the side road pull out and follow him.
    When he turned his motorcycle onto the road leading to Margot’s house, bright headlights suddenly blinded him. He slammed on the brakes and the SUV pulled in behind him.
    He was trapped. Something tapped his helmet, and when he turned his head he was looking into the barrel of a gun. “Turn off the engine and step off.”
    Somebody came up behind him and strapped his hands behind his back. His helmet was pulled off, and a hood was drawn over his head. With two strong hands on each arm, he was marched to the SUV behind him.
    He wanted to ask where and why he was being taken, but in his heart he knew the answers. They had found the camera and traced it back to him somehow.
    The SUV backed up and he heard his motorcycle start up as they pulled down the street.
    After a short trip to what he figured must be Mr. Tai’s warehouse, he was roughly pulled from the backseat. After half walking and half being dragged through a building, he was shoved into a chair and the hood was pulled from his head.
    It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the one light that was on the desk before him. The rest of the room was in darkness, but he could sense movement. When his vision cleared, he found himself across from Mr. Tai.
    In perfect English, Tai asked, “Is your name Charlie Blankenship?”
    “Yes. Why am I here?”
    “I will ask the questions, Mr. Blankenship. What business do you have with the Customs people? The last time I saw you, you were going fishing. More to the point, what business do you have with Julio Morales?”
    The good thing was that he had not been asked about a camera, but the bad thing was that Tai knew about Customs. “I’m starting a new business, and I needed some advice from him. The laws in Costa Rica are strange to me. The last thing I would want to do is break them.”
    Mr. Tai played along. “What kind of business are you in, Mr. Blankenship?”
    “I plan to ship exotic birds to the United States.”
    Out of the dark came a familiar voice. “He’s lying, Mr. Tai. That Rosenburg woman would never go along with something like that. Ask him about his ties with the D.E.A.”
    Charlie smiled. “That’s not my old friend Rufino, is it?”
    “You’re damn right it is! And I know you were working for the D.E.A.”
    “Rufino,” growled Tai, “shut up. Is this true, Mr. Blankenship? Do you work for or with the D.E.A.?”
    “I have no idea where he and Edger came up with that.”
    “Someone on that boat placed a tracker device on my shipment of drugs, and you are the most likely person to have done that.”
    “I have never had any contact with the D.E.A.”
    “Then who put the tracker on the drugs?”
    “The most likely person to do that would be the one that had the least to lose. I was part owner of the boat and had a full share of the catch. I had as much to lose as Edgar and Rufino. If I were the D.E.A. I would have approached Paulo. An extra couple thousand would have looked very inviting to him.”
    “No, no you don’t,” said Rufino. “It was you. I know it was you.”
    “Rufino, if you open your mouth once more I will have you shot. He makes a very good point. I also would pick Paulo to approach.”
    “Mr. Tai,” Charlie said, “I am just getting this project off the ground. Once I had things worked out, I was going to come here for your approval.”
    “If you wanted to ship thought Customs, why did you not come to me in the first place? I think you are lying, Mr. Blankenship. I believe you hoped to bypass me and keep all the money for yourself.”
    “That isn’t so, Mr. Tai. I remember well what happened when Rufino tried to do that, and I would never make that mistake.”
    Out of the dark, Rufino appeared over Charlie and sent a crushing blow to his temple. It came close to knocking him out. Charlie’s head was spinning, but he heard Tai shout something and shortly after that heard a loud bang and the sound of a body hitting the floor.
    Charlie heard Tai’s voice through the fog. “Mr. Blankenship, this time you live, but only because I find your new business interesting. Next time I have you brought here will be your last.”
    They helped him to his motorcycle, put his helmet on him, and walked away. He sat there straddling the bike for several minutes. Once his head cleared he started the engine and turned back toward the main street and headed to Margot’s house, once more thankful to be alive.

Copyright © 2018 by Ed Rogers