doesn’t stop them. It’s big business.
“A kilo of cocaine in the highlands of Columbia or Peru is worth about two thousand dollars. In Mexico that same kilo goes to ten thousand. Jump the border to the U.S. and it’s suddenly worth thirty thousand. By the time it’s broken down into grams to distribute for retail, that same kilo is now one hundred thousand dollars.
“That much money involved, it’s a whole lot easier to keep finding ways to fool the DEA and the Coast Guard than to battle the Zetas and Sinaloa. The Zetas . . .” Howard stopped and studied Senator Delanor-Ramos. “Well, you know from your congressional panels that it’s nasty business these days.”
But her eyes had wandered out to the storm. Her fingers of both hands wrapped around the glass, but Tully hadn’t seen her take a sip.
“The Zetas,” Howard continued. “A bunch of them got their start in this business as bodyguards for the Gulf cartels. Our bodyguards.” He laughed. “They’re a bunch of thugs is what they are. Years ago people got in the way, they just disappeared. Used to be rumors that all the drug cartels had vats of lye. They were discreet about their kills. But this new bunch?”
He glanced at the Senator again. She hadn’t moved.
“They pride themselves,” Howard said, “in using bloodshed to send their messages. Beheadings, dismemberments . . . anything to shock and awe, not only to warn their enemies but also the civilian populations in the areas where they hide in plain sight.”
“Taking my family,” Senator Delanor-Ramos suddenly said. “Taking George and the houseboat. Do you suppose it’s some sort of revenge or punishment for him not giving in to them?”
Tully wanted to ask why she thought George hadn’t given in to them. But of course, he already knew why. He was her husband. However, it made perfect sense to Tully now that the situation might be quite the opposite. Not revenge. Not punishment. Was it possible that George Ramos was allowing his old drug cartel friends to use his houseboat?
He remembered the stories Howard was referring to. Tully had read about the speedboats coming into the Gulf and dumping crates and containers of drugs into the water. Then they bribed fisherman to pick them up. He hadn’t thought about submarines. And actually it was a brilliant idea to use a family’s houseboat. Even more brilliant in a storm like this?
The Coast Guard’s response would be limited. If they did come across the houseboat their first concern would be that the family had gotten caught in the storm. A cutter would make sure they were returned safely, never suspecting that below deck there might be hundreds of pounds of cocaine stashed from a delivery in the middle of the Gulf.
That’s when his cell phone finally rang. It startled him after being quiet all afternoon.
“R.J. Tully.”
“Agent Tully, this is Commander Wilson.” His voice sounded clipped and mechanical.
“You’re back.”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t heard from Agent O’Dell yet. How did it go?”
The Coast Guard pilot went silent.
“Commander Wilson?”
“Agent O’Dell didn’t return with us.”
Chapter 12
“YOUR WIFE SENT US looking for you, Mr. Ramos,” Maggie had told the man after his son had left the steering house.
George had sent the boy back to his cabin with the promise that he would buy him his own X-box to have all to himself. Before the boy left, George said, “Just don’t tell your mom.” And the boy grinned like it was a familiar game. Maggie wondered how many other things the boy wasn’t supposed to tell his mother.
Now he said to Maggie, “Ellie worries too much.” Then to Felipe he said, “She worries about everything. What people think of her. What they say about her.”
Felipe wasn’t interested. Instead, he pointed to something on one of the instrument panels. Maggie couldn’t see from her seat on the bench. George nodded at him and calmly said, “Probably ten to twenty minutes
“A kilo of cocaine in the highlands of Columbia or Peru is worth about two thousand dollars. In Mexico that same kilo goes to ten thousand. Jump the border to the U.S. and it’s suddenly worth thirty thousand. By the time it’s broken down into grams to distribute for retail, that same kilo is now one hundred thousand dollars.
“That much money involved, it’s a whole lot easier to keep finding ways to fool the DEA and the Coast Guard than to battle the Zetas and Sinaloa. The Zetas . . .” Howard stopped and studied Senator Delanor-Ramos. “Well, you know from your congressional panels that it’s nasty business these days.”
But her eyes had wandered out to the storm. Her fingers of both hands wrapped around the glass, but Tully hadn’t seen her take a sip.
“The Zetas,” Howard continued. “A bunch of them got their start in this business as bodyguards for the Gulf cartels. Our bodyguards.” He laughed. “They’re a bunch of thugs is what they are. Years ago people got in the way, they just disappeared. Used to be rumors that all the drug cartels had vats of lye. They were discreet about their kills. But this new bunch?”
He glanced at the Senator again. She hadn’t moved.
“They pride themselves,” Howard said, “in using bloodshed to send their messages. Beheadings, dismemberments . . . anything to shock and awe, not only to warn their enemies but also the civilian populations in the areas where they hide in plain sight.”
“Taking my family,” Senator Delanor-Ramos suddenly said. “Taking George and the houseboat. Do you suppose it’s some sort of revenge or punishment for him not giving in to them?”
Tully wanted to ask why she thought George hadn’t given in to them. But of course, he already knew why. He was her husband. However, it made perfect sense to Tully now that the situation might be quite the opposite. Not revenge. Not punishment. Was it possible that George Ramos was allowing his old drug cartel friends to use his houseboat?
He remembered the stories Howard was referring to. Tully had read about the speedboats coming into the Gulf and dumping crates and containers of drugs into the water. Then they bribed fisherman to pick them up. He hadn’t thought about submarines. And actually it was a brilliant idea to use a family’s houseboat. Even more brilliant in a storm like this?
The Coast Guard’s response would be limited. If they did come across the houseboat their first concern would be that the family had gotten caught in the storm. A cutter would make sure they were returned safely, never suspecting that below deck there might be hundreds of pounds of cocaine stashed from a delivery in the middle of the Gulf.
That’s when his cell phone finally rang. It startled him after being quiet all afternoon.
“R.J. Tully.”
“Agent Tully, this is Commander Wilson.” His voice sounded clipped and mechanical.
“You’re back.”
“Yes.”
“I haven’t heard from Agent O’Dell yet. How did it go?”
The Coast Guard pilot went silent.
“Commander Wilson?”
“Agent O’Dell didn’t return with us.”
Chapter 12
“YOUR WIFE SENT US looking for you, Mr. Ramos,” Maggie had told the man after his son had left the steering house.
George had sent the boy back to his cabin with the promise that he would buy him his own X-box to have all to himself. Before the boy left, George said, “Just don’t tell your mom.” And the boy grinned like it was a familiar game. Maggie wondered how many other things the boy wasn’t supposed to tell his mother.
Now he said to Maggie, “Ellie worries too much.” Then to Felipe he said, “She worries about everything. What people think of her. What they say about her.”
Felipe wasn’t interested. Instead, he pointed to something on one of the instrument panels. Maggie couldn’t see from her seat on the bench. George nodded at him and calmly said, “Probably ten to twenty minutes
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