By edRogers
[Reviewed here on the novel’s publication day, October 6, 2018: “Coming soon to a Barnes & Noble store near you?”]
At 5 p.m. Juan pulled up at Charlie’s house, and five minutes later they were on their way. As they drove toward town, Juan said, “You know it’s high tide and we’ll need to go in by boat, don’t you?”
“Hell no, I hadn’t thought about it. Aren’t low and high tide the same time every day?”
“Charlie, have you ever been around the ocean before?”
“I’ve been around the Gulf of Mexico. I worked in Port Arthur, Texas, but I didn’t pay any attention to the tides.”
“Well, they are not always at the same time. I have us a small boat. It’s tied up on the mainland side. We’ll need to row from the other side of the inlet across to the warehouse. That shouldn’t be a problem. With no moon it’ll be dark enough that we won’t be seen from the shore.”
“It doesn’t say much for a quick getaway if we need to run.”
Juan laughed. “It’ll be faster than swimming.”
They were out of town heading south and coming upon the coastal highway. They took it west to Highway 1 and turned north, making their trip a half moon around the Nicoya inlet. Juan parked close to the water across from Tai’s warehouse. From the north side of the inlet, the warehouse looked like a prison with all its lights and its tall fence. Charlie had a bad feeling about using a boat, but unless they swam over, there was no other way.
The boat was a flat-bottom 4-foot by 7-foot rowboat. Charlie looked out across the water and what had seemed a short distance a few minutes ago now looked like miles. Charlie was in the front with Juan directing from the rear. The crossing took only fifteen minutes but seemed much longer, because Charlie was such a poor rower.
They eased in beside the fence near the warehouse dock, which was now mostly underwater. Charlie caught hold of the fence’s metal loops and pulled the nose of the boat up onto the concrete, which was dry. He climbed out and tied the boat to the fence as Juan followed him out of the boat.
Juan patted him on the back. “So far, so good.”
Charlie tried the door handle and when it opened he let out the breath he was holding and cracked the door enough to see down the hall. He motioned to Juan and the two moved quickly inside and headed toward the stack of pallets.
Standing in the shelter of the pallets, Charlie pointed to the ladder. “That’s how I’m going up to the beams. I’ll be able to see the entire operation from there. If the guard comes while I’m up there, he will be coming from your right, so keep a sharp eye in that direction. From here you’ll not be able to see the men loading the drugs until they move around front to pack the fins and wrap the entire container in plastic wrap. The answer to where the drugs are lies on the other side of the hanging plastic sheets that shield their activities from view.”
Juan pulled out his gun and nodded his head toward the ladder. “I’ve got this. Let’s get it over with. You better get up topside before the drug crew shows up.”
Charlie hastened to the ladder. After looking left and right, he started to climb. He climbed so fast that he found himself out of breath at the top. He sat on the cross beam and leaned his back against the support beam to get his breathing under control. Soon he heard voices and footsteps of men coming through the warehouse. It was the special crew that handled the drug shipment. Show time!
Juan also heard them and flattened himself against the stack of pallets to reduce his exposure. He hadn’t expected them to come from the angle they were; if one of the four men looked closely enough at the pallets he would be spotted.
Sweat ran down his face as he waited for them to pass. Seconds seemed like minutes, and minutes seemed like hours. Then he heard the sheets of plastic being pulled aside as they entered the work area and his body relaxed. He looked from the stack of pallets and up at Charlie, who was about forty or fifty feet above him. He wanted to wave but Charlie’s attention was on the men below. Juan felt very alone. He looked down and saw that his gun hand was shaking.
Charlie watched the four men come through the plastic. Two went right to one of the three bales of drugs, opened it, and began to cut the wrapping off of the smaller bundles inside. The other two placed one of the square pallets upside down on a table. Then each picked up a pipe that looked a little longer than a side of the pallet. Each pipe had a metal hole-punch near either end. Each man laid a pipe along an opposite side of the pallet so that the punches of his pipe aligned with what appeared to be a hole at each corner of the pallet, and then they pressed down simultaneously on each end of the pipes. Their action immediately caused the center of the pallet to pop open, revealing a square compartment between the bottom and top of the pallet about four inches high and maybe three and a half feet on a side, leaving enough room for the lift truck’s forks to penetrate the pallet on either side. The other two men then began to load the bundles of drugs into the compartment.
Once the cavity was filled, the two men controlling the pipes lifted the pipes and the bottom slammed shut. Then all four men turned the pallet back over and carried it to the front table, set a cardboard container on top of it, and started loading shark fins.
With the container and pallet wrapped and ready for shipment, one of the men got on the lift truck and headed across the warehouse with it. The other three went back and began opening the next bale.
That was Charlie’s clue to leave. He had the information he had come for, and now every minute up on that beam increased his chances of getting caught
Juan watched Charlie swing around the beam and start down the ladder. He had checked both ways and seen no one in sight, and now his eyes were glued to Charlie, and what seemed like slow descent.
The sound of the fork truck and the men working had muffled the footsteps of the approaching guard. Charlie was five or six feet off the ground when the guard seemed to appear out of thin air, with his gun drawn. Juan ran across the floor with the intent of knocking the guard out from behind, but the guard must have heard him, for he turned and fired his gun at Juan. Without thinking, Juan returned fire.
Charlie was frozen on the ladder watching the scene unfold below him. Everything was happening so fast he couldn’t think of anything to do. The guard’s shot went wide, missing Juan, but both of Juan’s bullets found their mark. The guard was dead before he hit the floor.
Juan grabbed Charlie’s leg. “Get the fuck down! We have to go!”
Charlie hit the floor running. They could hear thundering feet behind them and weren’t sure whether or not one of the workers might have stopped long enough to pick up the guard’s gun. But no bullets were whizzing by, so they seemed to be in good shape.
They made it through the door at the end of the hall and as Charlie untied the boat, Juan braced a board from a broken pallet against the handle of the door. It wouldn’t stop them but it would slow them down.
Once in the boat, Juan directed Charlie to go along the shore toward the end of the inlet. The shadows and overhanging tree branches would help hide them.
Back at the warehouse, a ruckus had broken out. An alarm siren was blaring and voices could be heard screaming orders.
Following the shoreline back to the car took at least forty minutes. Once there, Juan pushed the little boat back out into the inlet, toward the gulf. They climbed the bank and when they reached the car, Charlie finally asked, “What the hell happened?”
“Get in, we can talk as I drive.” Juan pulled out onto the highway without ever turning on his headlights. But instead of going back the way they had come, he headed north, away from Puntarenas.
“Where are we going?”
“We can’t go back to Puntarenas, they will have roadblocks set up. We’ll go north and cross over the bridge at Puerto Moreno. Then drive the coast back down to Playa Naranjo to spend the night. We can catch the ferry back to Puntarenas in the morning.”
They drove for maybe an hour, neither one speaking. Then out of nowhere, out of Charlie’s mouth, “My God, you killed that man. We’re murderers!”
“That man shot at me. The first shot missed, but the second wouldn’t have. I believe you’re the one that said this is a war. Well, people die in wars. Or had you forgotten that?”
“But this was just a guy doing his job, he was innocent.”
“Please, give me a break. He was working and defending the property of one of the bloodiest assholes in Costa Rica. You take Tai’s money, you know where it came from and are as guilty as he is.”
“If we get caught, I doubt that the Costa Rican law will see it that way.”
“No, the Costa Rican law won’t see it that way, Charlie. That is why you can tell no one about any of this. We’ve never set foot in that warehouse. Let me hear you say it.”
“We’ve never set foot in the warehouse.”
| Copyright © 2018 by Ed Rogers |
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