Drama on the Caribbean Express, page 4
“Sure.” I said, “Let’s save the world.” This made Maggie chuckle as we all headed out the door.
The first Officer got us down to the gangplank and explained to the security guys that we needed to exit the ship before anyone else. They unhooked the chain and we walked through. On the pier, the shore patrol met us and I explained that we’re going to identify either a couple or two guys or both. He explained that once we spotted them he would radio to the FBI and others to intercept them. Maggie and I got set up on shore near the end of the pier. I didn’t want the Carsons to spot us so we stayed near a kiosk with the security guy who would radio the others to intercept.
A few minutes after nine, the first of the passengers started to exit the ship. Fortunately, for us, not everyone got off at once; some were still enjoying the breakfast buffets, while others just wanted to wait until the rush was over. After about twenty minutes, Maggie came to attention. She had seen the Carsons walking on the pier toward shore. I alerted the guy and he radioed the others, giving a description. They walked casually along, she had a bag slung over her shoulder, and it appeared to be heavy. He had a backpack that definitely was heavy.
They were intercepted at the end of the pier and surrounded by several uniformed officers. One even had his gun out holding it against his leg to keep it out of sight. Next, they were handing them their packs, the moment of truth is here, we watched intently. They emptied the bags on the ground and found jeans, shirts, Nike shoes, underwear, two or three books, and some New York taffy. I could hear the men being apologetic and thanked them for their cooperation. They helped them repack their bags and they were on their way to the relative’s house. I looked at Maggie; she had a big smile on her face. I’m sure deep down she didn’t want it to be the Carsons and truthfully, I didn’t want it to be them either.
We turned our attention back to the pier and waited. In about thirty minutes, Maggie poked me and pointed at the pier. There they were. The two guys with the pastel jackets were approaching the shore carrying two suitcases. I pointed them out to our security guy and he radioed over to the other guys. As they approached shore, they were escorted by four uniforms that were serious looking guys. We watched as a heated discussion took place and the pastel guys showed all sorts of paperwork. None of this seemed to deter the FBI or the other security officers. They were separated from the suitcases and questioned some more about the papers and the contents of their luggage.
We got as close as we could without being in the way. A man in civilian clothes walked over to the suitcases and bent over them. He tried to open them but they appeared to be locked. He then asked the men for the keys and they shrugged their shoulders and looked away. I guess they were refusing to open the suitcases. He, again, bent over the bags and with a sturdy knife, pried them open, like they were soft butter. Inside they hit the mother lode. Bundles of fifties and hundreds filled the entire suitcase. Handcuffs were produced and the men and their luggage were whisked away. Maggie and I looked at each other and we both smiled.
Louie Armstrong would have said, ‘Oh what a wonderful world.’
We held hands as we crossed the street to catch a cab for the Ritz-Carlton for some shopping and lunch. After spending the rest of the morning looking around the shops near the Ritz, we went to the ocean side patio for lunch. While sitting at the bar waiting for a table the television was tuned to CNN. I only half paid attention until I heard ‘drug bust,’ that perked us up. Apparently, the DEA and FBI had tracked a helicopter coming into US air space. It had landed at a small airport in the Keys; it was loaded with two hundred kilos of cocaine.
Maggie and I looked at each other and we said at the same time, “My, my, aren’t we something. She took a sip of her margarita and gave me the stink eye. Then over the rim of her glass she said, “I love you Agent Jersey Walcott.”
Watch for these other Jersey Walcott titles
coming soon to your favorite print and ebook retailer.
The Man in the Moon
Drama on the Caribbean Express
Death at the Country Club
Drowning without a Reason
Liberty Stands Still
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Dave Helmreich, Drama on the Caribbean Express
