Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin (4 page)

“Don’t worry,, I said “You won’t show up.” I shot him twice in the chest and got up from my desk and walked over to him and shot him again, this time in the top of his head.

I told the two guards in the room with us to put him in a bath tub and cut his throat to drain his blood. I would deal with him after dark.

Later that evening, I had two men put the body in the boat and move the cop’s car. Then the three of us went out to blue water where we tied the body to a cement block. My two men put the whole works overboard. The body went to the bottom some five thousand feet below.

When we got back to the house, six of my top men were waiting for us.

“I’m sure by now you’ve heard of the killings and loss of income in New York and many other states,” I said. “The Mexican cartel is trying to kill all of us and put us out of business so they can take over and put their own men in our place. Now is the time for all of us to make a decision. You can quit now and leave, or you can quit now and join them with no hard feelings on my end, or join us in a war against the cartel. I’ll step out of the room for a drink of water so you can be free to talk among yourselves. I’ll be back in five. By then, you are either with me or have left with no hard feelings.”

After being gone for five, I stepped back into the room; all my men were still there.

I looked around the room. “That was your only chance to leave. Next is all out war.”

When not a single man moved, I nodded and started to hand out instructions. Each man was given a specific part of town to rid the corners of the competition.

“Any questions?” I asked.

There were none. My team left to go about the business of wiping out the Mexican cartel.

Later that day I went out with a guard and was stopped by an unmarked cop car with the cop’s partners in it.

“What happened to my partner?” he asked.

“I paid him the monthly one hundred fifty and he left.”  We looked at each other for a stared into one another’s eyes for a long moment.

“We’ll be in contact,” he said and drove off.

I knew the number of one hundred fifty would cause trouble. They would think he had been swindling fifty grand a month all this time.

We recruited some “cowboys,” another word for mercenaries who will do anything for enough money, and they especially like gun play like the wild, wild West “cowboys.” Killing comes easy for them, and they looked forward to it. We set things up with a pay deal to kill Mexicans selling drugs on any street corner, which would put a dead stop to the cartel’s cash flow.

By the time I got to my front gate, the war was on. I had moved eight more bodyguards to my house to guard against attacks. I had four hundred feet of sea wall to protect, a nine thousand square foot house, a guest house, three acres of lawn and a five car garage.

We had all seen “Scarface” and “The Godfather” to know what could happen in a drug war. That very night a drive by shooting took place at my front gate. No one was hurt but the cops were all over the neighborhood.

The next day I had the video camera people install more cameras front and back to pick up cars and boats coming and going.

I also sent my eighty-five footer to a marina to clear the back. When the captain started the boat to move to the marina, it blew up at the dock, killing all aboard, the captain and two crew members. The water patrol and the cops showed up again.

By this time they knew what I did for a living and what business I was in.  My secret was out.

CHAPTER 4

I had my head of security buy two Cadillacs for cash and keep them elsewhere so I would have work cars that were not recognized.

At night I and a couple of cowboys would go out to find Mexicans selling drugs. We would go with shotguns and pistols and go to where they would be. At first we would take their money and drugs and try to convert them to our side. If that didn’t take we put them outside our car then shot them. Soon they all started to say they would convert but they lied to live so we started killing them all or taking them to my warehouse to be tortured and left alive to tell the story.

One man we took to the warehouse was both arrogant and mouthy, so I did the torturing myself. When we got to the warehouse and got him, a Cuban, tied to a special table I walked up to him with a machete in my hand and held it up to him.

“You’re Cuban, right?” I said. “Well you know what they call this in Cuba.”

“A machete.”

“Well, smartass, for being so smart, I’m going to take this and cut your feet off and throw them in that corner.” I pointed the machete to the far side of the room. “You see, you think this is a movie like “Night and Day” or “Carlito’s Way, that you will somehow win and get out of this spot you’re in because of your mouth and your arrogance. Well, this ain’t the movies. I’m going to cut your feet off and then kill you. All you are or all you will ever be ends here with me. Put something over his mouth because he is going to scream a lot when I start on his feet.”

One of my men moved to put a red rubber ball in his mouth.

“Hey,” he screamed, “I’m sorry! I really am! I’ll work for you from now on!”

“It’s too late for that,” I said. “I’m disrespected, and I have all these men here that work for me. What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t keep my word? Finish,” I said to the man with the red ball and leather strap.

The Cuban was shaking and crying now in between whimpers. I took the machete and cut off his left foot at the ankle and picked it up to show him before throwing it in the corner.

He pissed his pants as I cut the other foot off. Again I showed it to him before tossing it next to the other one.

“Well, I guess you’re two feet shorter now,” I said and left. Outside I told one of my men to put the body and feet back on his street corner tonight. After driving around and looking at their men on corners I went home. Once at home I decided that there’s no stopping now. I must drive the cartels out of the cities I want. I must kill them all. I made up my mind to go out every night and get it done, but I would stay out of California. Maybe it would be a losing battle or maybe it’s the Mexican’s gains there.

I took delivery of a new boat but not at my house, because I could not protect it from the ocean side. They could burn it at the slip again like the last one. Instead, I docked it at a friend’s house.

About midnight we went out looking for more Mexicans. At four in the morning we saw their new boss driving with a car full of cowboys looking for us. He didn’t recognize us in the work car, and I had everybody in my car get down so they couldn’t be seen.

With his car ahead of us I had my men roll the windows down on the right side of my car.

”When I pull next to him and toot my horn,” I instructed them, “empty all your guns into their car. When I toot the horn---not before.”

They went on for several blocks, then pulled over to talk to one of their corner men. I pulled up next to them, yelling at my men get ready.

“Get ready – get ready!” We were side by side, door to door, window to window when I blew the horn. The three men with me set free the dogs of war Nobody in the target car had looked in my direction until the horn sounded. They all turned just in time to see my men’s first shots which were the last thing they saw.

They never had a chance to bring their guns to the ready. Parts of faces, brains and teeth filled their car while smoke and sound filled mine. When we drove off they were all dead, even the street vendor, and we were out of ammo.

I drove back to change cars and give  the guns to someone to take out to sea and deep six them.

That took care of their boss and three of his best men, but it didn’t last for more than a week before there was a new boss from L.A. The war was on, as ever.

Over the next two weeks, the press and TV stations got into the act as bodies were found daily, killings mostly blamed on the Mexican and California gangs. My name was never mentioned.

Our new plan was to take all bodies out to sea to keep the television and newspapers quiet. When our men showed up it was blamed on the Mexican cartels because they were found with no heads, or they were never found. New York and Chicago were used to five or six dead men per weekend so it was no big deal to them.

We were losing the Dakotas, Iowa and Washington and had already lost Arizona and Nevada. The two cops paid a visit to me and wanted their money for the month but now they wanted one hundred and fifty grand. I made a deal with them for one hundred grand per month now that there were two of them and business was off by a third. Reluctantly they took the one hundred and left. I knew this would be a problem down the line, and I was losing the wars in the outlying states, so I decided to do a new deal for all states except Florida. I would turn them over to one man each and just deliver the goods to him in bulk at wholesale, and it would be up to the boss of the state what to do in his territory. For this they would get a cheaper price and be their own boss and all would go well as long as they bought from me.

I had the men I picked come in and meet with me for a couple of days each. Some I had to front the first goods to and some had the money which they bank wired. Now I was down to Florida at retail and the rest wholesale at an even cheaper price. I was making more money than ever because my payroll went way down with the same volume.

Now the Mexicans had a war in each state with someone that was making millions per month and wanted to keep it coming in. Now they had twenty or thirty wars not just one, and I was putting the pressure on in Florida through the cops and Cuban cartel. The outlying states were working so well I thought I would divide Florida up into three areas. The west coast including the panhandle, Miami, including the Keys and Hialeah then Fort Lauderdale north, including all of the east coast north from Palm Bay to the state line. Now I had ten men to control instead of one hundred and fifty.

My job was importing and dealing the goods and getting rid of the Mexicans, and the ten men’s jobs were to sell goods and make money.

One of my men spotted the new Mexican boss meeting with a street vendor, so I put out the word to follow him and write down every place he went and see where he lives. I didn’t get a report back until the next day and even though we never found his house, we found his warehouse and office. It was in the warehouse district of Miami marked “Garcia Furniture” surrounded by a chain link fence with eighteen wheelers coming and going at all hours of the day and night. There were always about twenty men on sit
e there and lots and lots of surveillance cameras on the roof pointed in all directions.

Over the next week I drove by this warehouse, taking a lot of pictures while trying not to be in view. The place was well-protected and easy to defend and very hard to penetrate.

I discovered it had no infrared or night vision cameras, so it would have to be taken at night even though the yard and building were well lit. While all this planning was going, on the killing of my men and theirs was going on, too.

I came up with a plan. I bought look alike cars and had them painted the same and added decals and lights to look like cop cars. I also put a ram on a dump truck and painted it to look like a Miami police vehicle. I had the delivery trucks followed to get their times, routes and distances. On the night it was all supposed to go down, several sets of cowboys were set up to hijack all the trucks and bring them to us at various places. The drivers of each truck would be killed and the drugs in the trucks must be found. Once we cleaned out the trucks, we’d abandon them anywhere possible.

In the meantime the ram truck and all the pretend cop cars took off for their warehouse. The truck crashed the front gate followed by the fake cop cars with four men in each one dressed like DEA SWAT teams, with helmets and bullet proof vests all in black. They burst in on the scene and went into the warehouse, guns at the ready.

But nobody was there, only floor to ceiling furniture, five thousand square feet of new furniture stacked to the twenty foot ceiling. But before anyone could leave, hundreds of real cops in real squad cars pulled up and arrested everyone for impersonating police, breaking and entering and having weapons.

I posted everybody’s bail through an attorney in an effort to keep my identity anonymous.

I had to find the leak. They knew our complete plans; date, time, how many men, everything. The very next night I sent four men to the same warehouse with automatic weapons with silencers and once inside there was nothing, a few men, but no drugs of any kind and no weapons. This was beyond belief as I knew the trucks had left there full of drugs. Then it came to me. Next door and backing on the building was a pottery wholesaler’s warehouse that eighteen wheelers dropped off pottery from Mexico. Surprise- surprise, there must be a tunnel from one warehouse to the other. That’s why there was never anything in the main warehouse with the cameras, lights and fences. So everybody would look there and not the warehouse next door in the back.

I got as many men, guns, cars and trucks as I could gather and pulled a raid on the pottery warehouse. After gaining entrance with fifteen armed men, there were five armed men inside which we took by surprise and overpowered most without a shot; only two of their men died. In this warehouse was a ton of cocaine, meth, grass and e-pills and to my surprise there were five pallets shrink wrapped full of cash.

I took two men with silenced machine guns and went to where the other men were disarmed and sitting on the floor against the wall and shot them all and killed them knowing they would be part of the crew coming after me if I left them alive. I also knew the Mexicans would take care of their bodies because if they called the cops, they would be put in jail, too. No doubt heads were going to roll or should I say heads would be cut off because of the missing money and drugs totaling about thirty five million dollars all told.

I had the men load the money first, followed by the cocaine and then pills and grass. I had to get more trucks so I rented them. We took everything to our warehouse, and I had one pallet of money counted, then gave each man one hundred grand with a speech about keeping it low, don’t tell your wife or girlfriend. No new cars or houses or boats and don’t put the money in the bank.

“You will go to jail. Maybe not today and maybe not tomorrow but soon,”  I said.