Operation Caribe by Mack Maloney Page B

ounces of methamphetamine, two AK-47s and a hundred rounds of ammunition. These were just teases for the three men who wanted to make the big score.
    Doggie and Jacks were a bit on edge. Four of their fellow pirates had yet to return from a raid the previous night. But Doggie and Jacks weren’t feeling uneasy because they thought something bad might have befallen their comrades—there was no honor among the Muy Capaz gang. Their fear was that the four might have been nabbed by some law enforcement agency higher than the paid-off Bahamian cops—the U.S. Coast Guard, for instance—and that the Muy Capaz’s string of perfect crimes had been broken. While they were fairly sure the gang members wouldn’t fold under interrogation for fear of what Captain Black would do to them if they did, Muy Capaz’s ghostly street cred would definitely take a hit if the four missing pirates had been arrested.
    The mystery of their missing colleagues was not enough to delay this deal, though. It was a rare day that the gang could find regular customers for pot, coke, meth and weapons.
    This one was just too good to pass up.
    *   *   *
    THEY FOUND THE ship just where the three men said it would be.
    It was anchored off a cay near one of the Bahamas’ mysterious Blue Holes. This island was a part of the outer Eleuthera chain, an area that saw few visitors—not just because of its isolation, but also because it was believed the waters in this part of the Bahamas were haunted. It was a perfect place for this type of meeting.
    Doggie and Jacks were surprised by the ship itself, though. Because the three men from the casino had seemed so refined and were so well-dressed, they’d expected to be meeting on an expensive mega-yacht or even something more luxurious.
    What they found instead was an enormous container ship.
    They saw the prearranged signal, four flashes from a red light, and were soon up alongside the huge vessel. A rope ladder was dropped from amidships and the two pirates climbed up. Doggie was carrying the coke and meth; Jacks had the weapons and ammo.
    The three well-dressed gentlemen greeted them up on the rail, embracing them with monstrous bear hugs as they came aboard. No other crew members were in sight.
    The three men took them to the ship’s galley, where drinks were waiting for them.
    “What is this?” Doggie asked them, looking at the amber liquid swirling around inside his paper cup.
    “It is mooch,” one of the three men replied in his thick French-tinged accent. “Soothes the muscles and calms the nerves.”
    The pirates drained their cups and accepted the offer for a refill. Then the three men suggested they take a quick tour of the ship.
    Walking along the cargo hold, the three men told the pirates that they could carry anything within the huge containers—tons of drugs, weapons, stolen merchandise. Even an airplane, one bragged.
    Whatever the pirates could supply to them could be moved practically anywhere in the world, without fear of being caught by law enforcement because just about anyone they would encounter at sea could be paid off or disposed of.
    “More money for you,” one of the three men said. “More money for us.”
    The pirates were not only taking it in, they were getting physically excited. Everything the three men were telling them made great sense. By the time the tour was over, the formerly drab ship looked bigger and more elaborate than any seagoing vessel the pirates had ever seen.
    When the three men asked if the pirates had any questions, Doggie had only one: He asked if they could have another cup of mooch.
    *   *   *
    DOGGIE AND JACKS left about twenty minutes later. They had a deal in place, a half-gallon of mooch in hand, and a bag of money as payment for the guns and drugs: ten thousand dollars in all, mostly in tens and twenties.
    They started their boat’s engine and headed off to the southwest.
    A minute later, the helicopter known as Bad Dawg Two took off from