my finances, my home title --- correct?"
A nod.
"Good," I said. "My cooperation means just that. Cooperation. No miracles. And one more thing. For God's sake, please stop calling me Mr. Cole. It makes me feel like I'm ready to start wearing an adult diaper. Lewis will work just fine."
Another nod. "All right, Lewis. That's all acceptable. And we're not looking for miracles, not at all. We're just trying to button up this little battle of ours in the drug war on your home turf. The narco guerrillas move on a lot of different fronts, from most of Colombia to states in Mexico to islands in the Caribbean. What they're looking for are safe and secure routes to bring their product into the States, their most profitable market. What we do is to make it more expensive for them. That's all. We're never going to stop it, not ever, but we can harass them, make their lives difficult, force them to be on the defensive, all the time. Which is why we're here. For a while New York City was their favorite destination, but we've had too many successes there for them. Boston would he a logical choice, but from what we've learned, they've decided to go one step farther up the coast. Here."
"I find that hard to believe. Why not up in Maine? Portland would seem to be a logical choice.”
“True, but they’ve chosen this little stretch of seacoast to set up shop. Probably because you’re just a few minutes away from I-95. From here, you can be in Portland or Boston in an hour, in Hartford and New York City in a few hours more."
Looking down at the conference table, I could see what was depicted in the black-and-white photographs. "And this dead man, up at Samson Point, who was he working for?"
"A cartel out of Medellin, Colombia, where else. He was from Mexico City, was due to meet up with his local contact at the wildlife preserve. We were late in catching up, we thought they were meeting somewhere else. And damn it, we weren't even going to make an arrest. We were just going to observe their first meet."
"The first meet obviously didn't go too well, did it?"
She said, "And you accuse me of overusing understatements. Yeah, that was one royal screw-up, and we're not sure why. Best guess is that another cartel decided to move in on this little turf, and decided to eliminate a rival, before going up to the local people and offering a better deaL"
"And who's the local people?" I asked.
"Ah, that's where it gets tricky. From intelligence intercepts, all we know is that the local contact is someone associated with the Porter Naval Shipyard, someone nicknamed Whizzer."
"What do the shipyard folks tell you?"
"Not a thing," she said. "They have more than a thousand people working at the yard. What work we've been able to do there has been quite preliminary, by contacting some of the management at the yard. We've been hobbled by two things: First, if the word spreads throughout the shipyard that someone named Whizzer is being looked for, then that person will no doubt go to ground, never to be seen again. The second thing is that if word gets out that the DEA is looking into a drug ring involving workers who do maintenance work on nuclear-powered attack submarines, well, I'm sure your local papers would have a lot of fun with that kind of story."
"Without a doubt," I said. "And that's why you folks had the bright idea of bringing me aboard, right?”
“Maybe not a very bright idea, but the best we could do.” she said. "Like I said the other day, back at your house. You know the area. You can ask questions without people thinking you're part of law enforcement. You can go places we can't, because of your magazine job."
I looked at the table and the pile of materials, and I looked over at Doug, still leafing through his newspaper. Reeves leaned over. "What are you thinking?"
I Sighed. "I'm thinking that when I first came here, I was offered several positions as employment, besides the magazine job. One was
A nod.
"Good," I said. "My cooperation means just that. Cooperation. No miracles. And one more thing. For God's sake, please stop calling me Mr. Cole. It makes me feel like I'm ready to start wearing an adult diaper. Lewis will work just fine."
Another nod. "All right, Lewis. That's all acceptable. And we're not looking for miracles, not at all. We're just trying to button up this little battle of ours in the drug war on your home turf. The narco guerrillas move on a lot of different fronts, from most of Colombia to states in Mexico to islands in the Caribbean. What they're looking for are safe and secure routes to bring their product into the States, their most profitable market. What we do is to make it more expensive for them. That's all. We're never going to stop it, not ever, but we can harass them, make their lives difficult, force them to be on the defensive, all the time. Which is why we're here. For a while New York City was their favorite destination, but we've had too many successes there for them. Boston would he a logical choice, but from what we've learned, they've decided to go one step farther up the coast. Here."
"I find that hard to believe. Why not up in Maine? Portland would seem to be a logical choice.”
“True, but they’ve chosen this little stretch of seacoast to set up shop. Probably because you’re just a few minutes away from I-95. From here, you can be in Portland or Boston in an hour, in Hartford and New York City in a few hours more."
Looking down at the conference table, I could see what was depicted in the black-and-white photographs. "And this dead man, up at Samson Point, who was he working for?"
"A cartel out of Medellin, Colombia, where else. He was from Mexico City, was due to meet up with his local contact at the wildlife preserve. We were late in catching up, we thought they were meeting somewhere else. And damn it, we weren't even going to make an arrest. We were just going to observe their first meet."
"The first meet obviously didn't go too well, did it?"
She said, "And you accuse me of overusing understatements. Yeah, that was one royal screw-up, and we're not sure why. Best guess is that another cartel decided to move in on this little turf, and decided to eliminate a rival, before going up to the local people and offering a better deaL"
"And who's the local people?" I asked.
"Ah, that's where it gets tricky. From intelligence intercepts, all we know is that the local contact is someone associated with the Porter Naval Shipyard, someone nicknamed Whizzer."
"What do the shipyard folks tell you?"
"Not a thing," she said. "They have more than a thousand people working at the yard. What work we've been able to do there has been quite preliminary, by contacting some of the management at the yard. We've been hobbled by two things: First, if the word spreads throughout the shipyard that someone named Whizzer is being looked for, then that person will no doubt go to ground, never to be seen again. The second thing is that if word gets out that the DEA is looking into a drug ring involving workers who do maintenance work on nuclear-powered attack submarines, well, I'm sure your local papers would have a lot of fun with that kind of story."
"Without a doubt," I said. "And that's why you folks had the bright idea of bringing me aboard, right?”
“Maybe not a very bright idea, but the best we could do.” she said. "Like I said the other day, back at your house. You know the area. You can ask questions without people thinking you're part of law enforcement. You can go places we can't, because of your magazine job."
I looked at the table and the pile of materials, and I looked over at Doug, still leafing through his newspaper. Reeves leaned over. "What are you thinking?"
I Sighed. "I'm thinking that when I first came here, I was offered several positions as employment, besides the magazine job. One was
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