Стюарт Вудс - Contraband

“Roger, got that, wilco.”

Back on the yacht, everybody was gathered around the laptop. “Dixie has taken off and is making for the strip,” Max said. “Tommy and a couple of others will greet him on arrival.”

“Where’s the Coast Guard cutter?” Stone asked.

“We can’t display her,” Max said, “but she’ll be somewhere around here” — she pointed — “staying over the horizon and painting our quarry on radar.”

Dino headed for the bar. “Anybody want a gimlet? This is going to take a while.”

The others joined him.

Later in the afternoon, Max’s cell rang. “This is Max.”

“It’s Harris here. We’ve just launched fast boats from two cutters, and they’re approaching the vessel at sixty knots from north and south. We want to nail them before they can jettison their cargo.”

“Keep me posted,” Max said.

“This will be over in a few minutes.”

The radio squawked. “Vessel in sight, closing fast. It’s a shrimper.”

“Proceed as planned,” Harris said.

As the two boats closed on the shrimper, Ensign Peter Wills, who was in charge of the southern boat, grabbed a hailer. “Shrimper Lucy Ann heave to, prepare to receive boarders. Everyone keep his hands in sight.”

The two RIBs roared up to the shrimper, cut their power, and moved alongside. Four men in helmets and flak jackets, carrying assault weapons, jumped aboard from both sides. The crew were stunned and had their hands up.

The guardsmen immobilized the Lucy Ann crew and conducted a search of the vessel. They found nothing but a full load of shrimp.

Ensign Wills called his skipper. “We’ve completed our search, and found nothing above or below.”

“Is there a load of shrimp aboard?” Harris asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then the cargo is under the shrimp,” she said. “Search there.”

Ensign Wills walked into the wheelhouse, where the captain was leaning idly against the bulkhead. “Get your crew assembled and start unloading your shrimp.”

The captain was startled. “Unload them where?”

“Into the sea,” Wills replied.

“Listen, swabbie, that’s money, not just shrimp. Who’s going to pay? My owner will want to know.”

“You and your owner are going to pay,” Wills replied. “Now start unloading shrimp, and don’t stop until we see your real cargo.”

Max answered the phone. “This is Max.”

“It’s Harris. We’ve secured the vessel, a shrimper, but have found no cargo. I suspect it’s hidden under their catch. The FBI is calling on the ship’s owner in Naples as we speak. I’ll call you with results.”

“Mr. Wills,” one of his crew called. “Take a look at this!” He pointed to a line that was secured to a cleat next to the hold. He yanked the line, and the other end disappeared into the pile of shrimp.

“Get that line to a crane!” Wills yelled. The crew did as ordered, and a crewman from the shrimper was directed to raise whatever it was attached to. He did so with reluctance, but as he did, the line tautened, and a large pallet emerged from the catch. On the pallet, secured by a cargo net, were a number of wooden crates and at least a dozen aluminum suitcases.

“Bingo!” Wills yelled into his hailer, as the cutters moved alongside.

Max’s phone rang and she answered it via speaker. “This is Max.”

“This is Harris. Their cargo, consisting of wooden crates and aluminum suitcases, is secured. The crates include caviar, the suitcases have cigars.”

“More gimlets!” Dino crowed.

Dino set down his glass. “Max, I need to speak to the FBI’s Agent in Charge in Naples. Do you have his number?”

“No,” Max said, “and if I had it I’d be too drunk to call him.”

Dino whipped out his cell phone and pressed a button. “Sergeant,” he said, “this is Bacchetti. I want you to get hold of the FBI AIC in Naples, Florida. When you have him on the line, call me and hook us up.” He listened to the response, then hung up.

“Another gimlet?” Stone asked.

“Not until after this call,” Dino said. Twelve minutes passed, then his phone rang. “This is Bacchetti,” he said.

“Commissioner, this is AIC Ed Baxter, calling from Naples. How may I help you?”

“Ed, if I may call you that...”

“Of course, and you’re Dino?”

“Correct. I’m in Key West, observing a Coast Guard operation, in conjunction with the KWPD and your bureau, which has stopped and boarded a shrimper out of Naples smuggling a cargo of Russian caviar and Cuban cigars, both of the most expensive kind.”

“I’m aware,” Baxter said, “the shrimper is under tow and should be in Naples early this evening, where I and my men await.”

“I understand that this is, nominally, a Coast Guard operation,” Dino said, “in conjunction with your office. But my concern is with a connection of the ring to New York, which is where I believe the smuggling is controlled.”

“I understand, and we will be working closely with our New York bureau in this investigation.”

“We are investigating the recent homicides of a man named Randall Hedger and a friend of his called Estelle Parkinson. We believe that Hedger was running the smuggling ring, possibly in concert with a bookie called Pino Pantero, and that Hedger’s homicide may have been the result of a disagreement over the division of profits from their operation.”

“I see.”

“I would be grateful if you would, in your questioning of the crew and operators of the shrimper, find out if they are aware of either of these two names. I believe the owner of the shrimper is the most likely to be familiar with Hedger and/or Pantero. What I would like to know is: Do they have any other names in New York who are connected to these two men? You understand that my interest is entirely in the unsolved homicides, not your smuggling case.”

“I understand, Dino. And when the opportunity arises in our investigation, I will broach the two names and see if they strike a chord. How may I reach you directly?”

Dino gave him his cell number, noted the AIC’s number, thanked him, and hung up. “Okay,” he said to Stone, “let’s see if the trail leads to New York or if it comes to a stop in Naples.”

“Good thinking,” Stone said, pouring Dino another gimlet.

“It is, isn’t it?” Dino replied, accepting the libation.

Stone was awakened the following morning by the sound of the shower running. A moment later, Max stepped into their suite, rubbing herself with a towel.

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

“You helped a lot last night,” she replied. “I think the equipment needs a respite before you help any further.”

“That’s a reasonable request. I’ll wait until this evening before I become unreasonable.”

“That should do it,” she said, bending over to kiss him, while grabbing his wrist to keep his hand from landing somewhere else. She stepped into a thong and some jeans, pulled a cotton sweater over her head, ran a brush through her hair without using a mirror, stepped into her shoes, and grabbed a handbag. “See you later today,” she said.

“I’ll look forward to seizing you,” Stone replied. He struggled out of his berth and into a shave and a shower. Then, donning shorts and a polo shirt, he climbed the companionway stairs to the fantail, where Dino and Viv were waving goodbye to Max.

“Did she sneak out on you?” Dino asked.

“No, she just explained that she had to do a little police work before we could continue what we started a couple of days ago.”

Viv sighed. “Stone, I don’t know why you aren’t exhausted all the time,” she said.

“I’m reliably informed that exercise is good for the body parts,” he said. “In fact, you are just the person who is always telling Dino and me that.”