Operation Caribe by Mack Maloney Page A

and outside via a short stairway that faced the dirty canal. Black’s heavily armed motorboat was tied up close by.
    The pirate king handed the Panama blunt to one of his men, who lit it with a huge cigarette lighter. He got the joint going and blew out a huge cloud of bluish smoke.
    The man passed the huge joint to Chops. The dealer took a long drag—but before he was able to exhale, another of Black’s men had moved up behind him and suddenly had a leather belt around Chops’s neck.
    The pirate started pulling the belt tight, slowly twisting and turning it. Chops began fighting madly, but his fate was sealed.
    “Examples must be made,” Black told Chops nonchalantly. “You understand, mon?”
    Chops collapsed to his knees, but his executioner yanked him back to his feet. The pirate kept twisting the belt tighter and tighter while Black and the others calmly passed the joint back and forth, looking on, unmoved.
    Finally, the pressure was so intense, Chops’s eyes popped out. Only then did the pirate let his lifeless body fall to the ground. Black took another long drag on the joint and then gave Chops a final kick in the stomach.
    “He’s lucky we didn’t tear him to shreds first,” Black said.
    They took rope from Black’s motorboat and tied Chops’s body to a docking post. When the sun came up, his corpse would be visible for all of Badtown to see.
    It was a clear warning: Don’t cross the Muy Capaz.
    *   *   *
    THE PIRATES RETURNED to the hidden room and opened another bottle of rum.
    Dispatching Chops had eased Black’s frustration level a bit. But it left the gang with the same old problem: They still had no money. In fact, now they were another ten grand in the hole.
    That’s when Black’s cell phone rang. It was one of his contacts in the nearby casino district. Could Black still get a large quantity of coke on just a few days’ notice? The contact had three customers looking for a substantial deal. They would pay up front, and were interested in regular large buys in the future.
    It was just what Black needed.
    He turned to the two senior pirates at the table, Doggie and Jacks.
    “Clean up and head over the hill,” he told them. “Sniff out a deal with these guys—and don’t bitch it up. If spirits agree, tell them we can move up to a ton of stuff if they want us to.”
    *   *   *
    DOGGIE AND JACKS walked into the lounge of the Regency Casino just before 3 A.M.
    They’d changed their clothes to appear a little more presentable, but at best, they still looked like part of the casino’s kitchen crew.
    They spotted the contact sitting in a dark corner with three coal-black men. They were well-dressed, very refined looking, and spoke with strange accents. The pirates sat down and made small talk while an army of high-priced hookers paraded around the casino’s main floor.
    Finally, they got down to business.
    The contact told the pirates the three men were looking for coke, meth, pot—and weapons. These were things the pirates could get with ease. The three men were also looking for someone to attack the vessels of their business rivals at sea. Again, the Muy Capaz were the people for the job. Best of all, the three would pay in cash, up front, for everything the pirates could give them.
    It was the deal that the Muy Capaz had been awaiting for a long time.
    Drunk and stoned and now dreaming of riches in their heads, Doggie and Jacks shook hands with the three men, sealing the deal.
    Then Jacks asked, “Where are you blokes from? Antigua? Belize?”
    The three men laughed.
    “No, mon,” one of them replied: “We are from Senegal.”

8
    The outer islands
    THE NEXT NIGHT, Doggie and Jacks left the dock at the Muy Capaz’s secret hideout and headed out to sea.
    It was just past midnight. They were using Black’s own twenty-four-foot sports fishing boat for this trip. In the boat’s hold was a quarter pound of cocaine, just about all the pirate gang had left. They also had four