carrying a suitcase. He posed as a computer salesman based in Hong Kong who regularly traveled between that country and the United States. His name was Ron Carter.
Mr. Carter knew all of the customs agents. One was being paid off by The Chameleon to wave him through. His flights were always arranged to land when that agent was working. For two years, everything had gone smoothly.
That day Mr. Carter entered the airport as usual. When he approached Customs, he looked around for his agent. He wasnât there. Someone else was in his place and waving him over.
Carter didnât like the look of things. Still, he had no choice but to do as he was told. He only hoped that this agent, too, had been paid off. He took a deep breath and headed over to the agent.
Usually heâd be waved on with âhave a nice day.â Not this time. Instead the agent said something he dreaded hearing. âPlease unzip the suitcase.â
Ron Carter knew he was busted. He unzipped the suitcase and watched as the agent stared at a dozen sock balls.
âWhat have you got in there?â the agent asked.
âTurtles.â
âClay turtles? Wooden turtles?â
âNo ⦠real turtles.â
The agent unwrapped the socks and found a dozen rare Arakan turtles from Myanmar. They were a critically endangered species once thought to be extinct. He shook his head as he took Ron Carter into custody.
Similar busts were taking place all over the worldâin Hong Kong, Paris, Los Angeles, and other cities. In Singapore, a woman waiting in an airport departure lounge began acting strangely. First she began to squirm in her seat. Then she began touching her hair again and again.
The woman was wearing her hair in a large bun on top of her head. As other horrified passengers looked on, they heard a shrieking sound coming from inside the bun. Then it began to jump and twist. The woman began shrieking, jumping, and twisting, too.
Her hairdo began to unravel. Then a baby monkey jumped out and began running down the aisle as onlookers stared in shock.
Officials caught the monkey ⦠and the woman. The baby monkey had been sedated but woke up earlier than expected.
When Otis heard about it through Captain Montez, he couldnât help laughing. âThat woman sure had a bad hair day ,â he said, digging his brother in the ribs with an elbow. Cody just rolled his eyes.
But the high point of the entire bust was catching The Chameleon himself. He was traveling in Europe when the raids took place. Amazingly, he was totally unaware of what was going on.
In New Yorkâs LaGuardia Airport, agents were ready and waiting for him. He was coming in from Italy, landing at 10:00 a.m.
Officials had been shown several pictures of the man. They were shocked by how different he could appear from one photo to the next.
One picture showed him as slightly plump, with short blond hair and blue eyes. In another photo he was darkly tanned with cold gray eyes and a greasy gray pony tail. In a third photo he was taller, with pale skin and black hair. He even looked younger than in the other pictures. But in a fourth photo he looked older, with a long white beard. They knew they had to keep a sharp eye out for this man, or theyâd miss him.
They nearly did miss him. Theyâd been on the lookout for a passenger on Flight 151. They didnât know that The Chameleon always changed his flight arrangements at least twice, and always at the last minute.
The agents waited ⦠and waited ⦠and waited. There were quite a few, stationed along checkpoints all over the airport. Someone would spot their target, wouldnât they?
They almost didnât. Who would expect an international smuggler worth millions of dollars to be dressed as an ordinary businessman?
The Chameleon walked right past ten agents. He was wearing a plain gray business suit. He even waved at one of the agents. He thought he was smarter than everyone else.
As
Mr. Carter knew all of the customs agents. One was being paid off by The Chameleon to wave him through. His flights were always arranged to land when that agent was working. For two years, everything had gone smoothly.
That day Mr. Carter entered the airport as usual. When he approached Customs, he looked around for his agent. He wasnât there. Someone else was in his place and waving him over.
Carter didnât like the look of things. Still, he had no choice but to do as he was told. He only hoped that this agent, too, had been paid off. He took a deep breath and headed over to the agent.
Usually heâd be waved on with âhave a nice day.â Not this time. Instead the agent said something he dreaded hearing. âPlease unzip the suitcase.â
Ron Carter knew he was busted. He unzipped the suitcase and watched as the agent stared at a dozen sock balls.
âWhat have you got in there?â the agent asked.
âTurtles.â
âClay turtles? Wooden turtles?â
âNo ⦠real turtles.â
The agent unwrapped the socks and found a dozen rare Arakan turtles from Myanmar. They were a critically endangered species once thought to be extinct. He shook his head as he took Ron Carter into custody.
Similar busts were taking place all over the worldâin Hong Kong, Paris, Los Angeles, and other cities. In Singapore, a woman waiting in an airport departure lounge began acting strangely. First she began to squirm in her seat. Then she began touching her hair again and again.
The woman was wearing her hair in a large bun on top of her head. As other horrified passengers looked on, they heard a shrieking sound coming from inside the bun. Then it began to jump and twist. The woman began shrieking, jumping, and twisting, too.
Her hairdo began to unravel. Then a baby monkey jumped out and began running down the aisle as onlookers stared in shock.
Officials caught the monkey ⦠and the woman. The baby monkey had been sedated but woke up earlier than expected.
When Otis heard about it through Captain Montez, he couldnât help laughing. âThat woman sure had a bad hair day ,â he said, digging his brother in the ribs with an elbow. Cody just rolled his eyes.
But the high point of the entire bust was catching The Chameleon himself. He was traveling in Europe when the raids took place. Amazingly, he was totally unaware of what was going on.
In New Yorkâs LaGuardia Airport, agents were ready and waiting for him. He was coming in from Italy, landing at 10:00 a.m.
Officials had been shown several pictures of the man. They were shocked by how different he could appear from one photo to the next.
One picture showed him as slightly plump, with short blond hair and blue eyes. In another photo he was darkly tanned with cold gray eyes and a greasy gray pony tail. In a third photo he was taller, with pale skin and black hair. He even looked younger than in the other pictures. But in a fourth photo he looked older, with a long white beard. They knew they had to keep a sharp eye out for this man, or theyâd miss him.
They nearly did miss him. Theyâd been on the lookout for a passenger on Flight 151. They didnât know that The Chameleon always changed his flight arrangements at least twice, and always at the last minute.
The agents waited ⦠and waited ⦠and waited. There were quite a few, stationed along checkpoints all over the airport. Someone would spot their target, wouldnât they?
They almost didnât. Who would expect an international smuggler worth millions of dollars to be dressed as an ordinary businessman?
The Chameleon walked right past ten agents. He was wearing a plain gray business suit. He even waved at one of the agents. He thought he was smarter than everyone else.
As
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