A Shark in Calle Ocho by Joe Curtis

Bob.
    “Uh, not really. I’m with A-1 Personal Recovery Services.”
    “Yeah, I thought you looked familiar. You teamed up with the retired librarian to take down that Big Mike character,” the officer said, laughing now.
    “Oh, dude—you told me about this guy.” Frat dude now joined in the laughter.
    The officer stopped laughing and gave Bob a serious look.
    “Come by tomorrow morning, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
    Bob couldn’t believe his luck.
    “Okay—I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He waved and turned.
    As he walked out the door, fraternity dude called out, “Hey, tell Miss Granny Panties I said hi,” which generated another round of laughter.

Chapter Eight
    Hector and Mary Catherine were still glaring at each other when the Airbus 300 landed in beautiful weather at Alexander Bay, forty-eight miles from their destination. Upon deplaning, Mary Catherine told the pilots to stay put, that she and her company would be back sometime in the evening. With worried looks, the pilots reluctantly agreed.
    “Hello—you must be Hector and Miss Tenish,” a medium built African man with a broad smile said in strongly accented English. “Ayize is waiting for you.” His eyes kept wandering to the suitcase in Mary Catherine’s hands. This made her uncomfortable. She tightened her grip on the handle. “Follow me.” He turned and walked to the small, dark green cargo truck.
    The cargo truck rocked back and forth on the substandard road. The African man sang to a radio station that played American tunes. It seemed Prince was his favorite artist, because when the song “Little Red Corvette” came on he gleefully joined in.
    “Little Red Corvette, baby you’re much too fast . . .” Mary Catherine gripped the seats as the driver pressed down on the accelerator, making the trip more like a theme park roller coaster ride than a day trip to a seaside port.
    After a grueling hour of sliding, braking and accelerating, everyone seemed to breathe easier when Port Nolloth came into sight. Mary Catherine broke the silence.
    “Here we are.”
    “Yes, here we are,” the African man said with a smile, showing a gold canine. Hector looked at the man, then at Mary Catherine and the suitcase, and then at the three associates who’d been silent for the entire trip, their hands close to their semiautomatics conveniently stashed in their coats. The truck came to a stop, and their chauffeur got out and led the way into Ayize’s black market diamond trading headquarters, also known as the spider’s web. Due to the darkness on the inside, the visitors entered the small building blind as their eyes took a moment to adjust. After they adjusted to the light, none of them were impressed with the interior. Ayize purposely kept the light low to hide the faint bloodstains on the walls and floors from past encounters.
    Soon they were greeted by a smiling Ayize.
    “Good afternoon, and welcome to Port Nolloth,” he said like some murderous travel agent. “I hope Berko did not scare you too much with his driving.” He patted their chauffeur on the back as both shared a light laugh.
    “We’re fine,” Hector shot back. “We drive in American rush hours every day.”
    “Ah, yes. I have read about your rush hours,” Ayize said with head raised, thinking back. “Men getting mad and shooting other men because of their driving. How barbarian.”
    “Yeah, and South Africa’s history is all peaceful,” Hector shot back.
    Ayize’s hands turned into fist, and his jaw tightened, but he let the rage subside with a smile.
    “As you Americans say, shall we get down to business?”
    Mary Catherine took control of the conversation.
    “Where is our product?”
    With a raised eyebrow, Ayize gestured to her.
    “Mary Catherine Tenish, millionaire business owner—and a woman. Isn’t America wonderful?” he said sarcastically. He ignored Mary Catherine and centered his attention on Hector and the associates. “We can begin