Buzz could drive this green today with the wind behind them. He had easily cleared the bunker last Saturday and came up only 20 yards short of the green. The risk of trying to reach the par 4 off the tee was getting caught up in the deep bunker or slicing the ball right, into the marshland. Buzz smiled as he considered his options. “Pro golfers never slice, they just block it right or play too much fade,” he mused to himself. “Let’s give it a rip.”
Bradford watched with interest and was surprised at how hard Buzz swung at the ball. To his credit it went a long way. Unfortunately, most of the distance was right.
“What do you think, Dave? Did it stay in the fairway?” He had to be kidding, Dave thought.. That ball was so far right it wasn’t even worth looking for.
“You might want to hit a provisional, Buzz. It’s a long walk back if you don’t find it.” This time Buzz’ drive was long and straight. It easily cleared the fairway bunkers and rolled to the front edge of the green.
The rules in club golf are a little lax. Dave should have hit his drive before Buzz hit a provisional. In fact, he wasn’t sure whether Buzz had the right to hit a provisional at this time. Club players bend the rules a little to keep play moving. But, the official rules of golf are strict. Remember Greg Norman flying over the Miami golf course after he couldn’t find his first tee shot and a rules official made him hit another drive, and also assessed a two stroke penalty for hitting his first provisional out of turn. Norman’s Cessna was warmed up and ready to go when Norman putted out on the 18th hole.
Bradford hit 3-wood down the center of the fairway and came up short of the bunker. He was in great position, only 140 yards from the pin. Par should win this hole.
It had been a long day for Buzz. Scuba diving can be hard work, especially if you are fighting a strong current to stay below the boat. Three dives at depths of 60-90 feet had left him physically exhausted. The night dive had been particularly tiring. He should have saved the walking tour of the fort for another day. He was exhausted, but couldn’t sleep. Ken had been acting strangely since the episode earlier with Buzz’ wallet; distant was the word. Buzz was pretty sure Ken had seen his FBI ID Card. Well, the 6-hour drive back to Tampa tomorrow would provide ample opportunity to explain.
Buzz’ thoughts drifted back to the events that led him to join the FBI. His first year in Tampa had been great. Bill’s real estate business was expanding rapidly and looking for property to build new resorts or to acquire existing facilities that fit their profile. It was Buzz’ job to determine if the proposed development made sense from a golf perspective.
Buzz’ job was to play the courses and get input from members and local golfers. Bill had an accounting department that could crunch the numbers, but what they asked of Buzz was to assess the intangibles. What did the members think the club needed? What did Buzz think of the layout? Could it be improved? How did the course compare to other clubs in the area? If they spent money to improve the course, would they be able to raise green fees? It was a great job; somebody had to do it.
Bill proved to be a good person to work for and the year passed quickly. Buzz was given more and more responsibility as Bill became more involved in Martinez’ political campaign for District Attorney. The company purchased 200 acres of land between Tampa and Orlando based upon Buzz’ recommendation. The proposed residential development would include two Greg Norman championship courses. Buzz was told it would be his baby. He would be project manager with responsibility for all facets of project development and sales. This was his chance to prove himself.
Buzz learned there was a catch. “Buzz, I need your help on something. Have a seat.” Apparently the Martinez campaign was short of cash.
“What can I do?”
“You’re a scuba diver, Buzz. How far can you swim underwater, a couple miles or more?”
“Wow, that’s a tough one to answer, With no current, and a spare tank, a person could probably swim a couple miles at a shallow depth; say five to 10 feet. The deeper you go the more air you use. Tell me more.”
“We never discussed this Dave, but I’m aware of some of the work you did for Mario and Romano in Miami. Needless to say, you’re secret is safe with me, but I think your experience and diving skills are just what we need.”
Buzz’ mind was racing. Just when he thought he was on top of the world and the drug business was behind him, he is right back where he was when he left Miami. He wanted to tell Bill to forget it, but instead he heard himself say; “What do you have in mind?”
“Our sources tell us that Romano is smuggling in uncut heroin by boat and dropping it offshore for pickup by Mario’s people. The heroin is in waterproof bags and attached to buoys that float about five feet underwater. The drop is made about midnight and the pickup boat arrives just after dawn. That means we have 5-6 hours to grab our share.”
“Why not use a boat? Why do you need a diver?”
“If we used a boat, we run the risk of being spotted by aircraft or satellites. We are only going to take a couple bags and let the DEA intercept the rest. We get money for the campaign and nobody even knows we were there. If we’re lucky, nobody will even know the bags are missing.”
“Bill, I don’t want to do this. I’m not proud of the work I did for Romano and was hoping that was behind me. Besides, you apparently don’t know Romano like I do. Don’t think he won’t find out.”
“Buzz, just do us this one favor and we will never ask you again. We’re not in the drug business, but there are a lot of good things we can do with this money. Martinez will be a great Attorney General for Florida. Besides, without this money our investors might need to divert money from the I-4 project to the campaign. I would hate to see you lose this opportunity.”
Bill’s meaning was clear and the implied threat was understood. “Okay, Bill, just this once. I’ll do it if we can work out the details.”
“Thanks Buzz, you won’t be sorry.”
Buzz met Jesus at a marina in Naples, 60 miles south of Fort Myers and approximately 30 miles from the drop point. Bill had assured Buzz that Jesus could be trusted, not because he was a trustworthy person, but because Martinez was in position to send Jesus away for life if he didn’t cooperate. Jesus had done a few other small jobs for them in the past and had proven to be reliable.
Neither person said much as they loaded the diving gear on their 30-foot sport boat. Jesus had extra gas to make sure they got back. Buzz also had a gun underneath the console.
They headed out about 11 PM and were in position off a small island, three miles south of the drop zone by midnight. They waited for the phone call telling them the drop had been made. The call came at 1:15 AM. It was a go!
Buzz had studied the charts and found the drop coordinates were over a strong southerly current. Swimming to the drop zone would be easy. Swimming back upstream would be difficult if not impossible, particularly with the added weight of the heroin. Each bag weighed about 20 pounds; underwater they would be buoyant but tough to drag. They would feel more like 40 pounds.
Buzz decided to do a drift dive and let the current carry him north to the drop zone, and then on to the pickup point. Usually in a drift dive the boat stayed above them as they drifted with the current, allowing a diver to just follow the boat. That was obviously not possible in this case. Buzz would need to rely upon his compass to keep a northerly heading and hope Jesus found him when he surfaced downstream. He should be in the water no more than 90 minutes unless something went wrong.
Everything went like a charm. Buzz picked up the faint pinging of the transponders attached to the bags 20 minutes before he saw them. There were eight bags tied together, each secured by two buoys. It took 10 minutes to carefully untie two of the bags and dismantle the buoys. It was important not to leave any evidence that the bags were gone. A cut line would arouse suspicion. Buzz tied the two bags to his belt, scuttled the four buoys, checked his compass, and started north. The bags of heroin floated easily behind him with the
current.
Buzz diving experience and exhaustive studying of the current paid dividends. At the 90-minute mark he surfaced to take a look for Jesus and almost hit his head on the boat. Well, that’s a slight exaggeration, but 125 yards isn’t bad. Buzz stayed on the surface and swam easily towards the boat. 15 minutes later Buzz and his cargo were safely onboard and the boat was underway.
“Any problems, amigo?”
“Nope, how about you? Did you spot anyone in the area?”
“Nada. Not a soul. Just relax, Buzz, have a beer. We need to pick up our amigo from the drop boat. His name is Diego.”
Buzz wasn’t happy with this change in plans, but there was nothing he could do. At least he now knew how Bill or Martinez had found out about the shipment and knew the drop coordinates. It worried him that there was one more person that Romano could find and question. There was no question in Buzz’ mind that if Romano found someone, the person would talk. Buzz had heard several stories about Romano’s interrogation skills.
“There he is, Buzz; 50 yards straight ahead. Take the wheel while I prepare a little surprise for our friend.”
As Buzz slowed the boat to pick up Diego, Jesus tossed his surprise at the swimmer. Buzz saw the burning wick and smelled the fire. Part of him was not surprised when the TNT exploded and the swimmer disappeared below water.
“What did you do?” he shouted. “Why?”
“No witnesses. Those were my instructions. Besides, he wasn’t a nice man. He should not have double-crossed his boss. Hand me that net. I want to take a couple of these fish home with me for dinner. Do you want any?”
Buzz was in shock, and said little the rest of the evening. He knew he should be thankful that Bill hadn’t told Jesus to kill him too, but he was too sick to his stomach to care. He felt dead inside.
His last memory of Jesus was loading the fish into the cooler.
They didn’t even bother to look for Buzz’ ball. If they had found it, the rules of golf would have required that Buzz either play it or go back and hit another tee shot, even though his provisional was in the fairway. If he didn’t find it, he could play the ball he had hit as a provisional. Go figure.
Bradford hit 8-iron to the center of the green 15 feet from the pin. He was lying two and Buzz would have to make a 50-ft. putt for his par. Dave was playing good golf, but feeling guilty not knowing if Mary was safe. He wished he would hear something.
Buzz’ long putt came up six feet short leaving him a little work remaining for his bogey. He marked, and it was up to Bradford. Dave lagged his birdie putt to three feet and putted out for par. He was one up again with five holes to play.
Bill Martin was pleased and promised a sizeable bonus in next month’s paycheck. No mention was made of the killing or what Jesus did with the heroin. Buzz assumed Jesus had contacts that would sell the product discreetly. The trick would be to keep Romano from tracing the sale back to Jesus, and eventually to Bill and Buzz.
Work returned to normal and Buzz was busy on the I-4 project. He was working 12 hours a day, but still couldn’t erase the memory of the murder he had witnessed. His conscience was eating at him. He couldn’t sleep. He woke up abruptly to visions of the explosion and fish floating to the surface. He needed to talk to someone. Raised Catholic, he went to confession for the first time in five years. The priest had absolved him of his sins, but also advised him that all men had an obligation to love their fellow man. “You can’t live your life in sin and expect eternal happiness.”
After three weeks of self-torture, Buzz decided to go to the authorities. If he didn’t, he knew that eventually he would be asked to do Bill ‘another favor’ for Bill, Mario or Romano. They wouldn’t allow him to escape from his past. He might go to jail, but that was better than what he was going through now. The question was, given what he knew about Martinez, who could he trust; certainly not the DA’s office? He decided to try the FBI.
Buzz settled on Robert Peterson, Director of Special Operations for the State of Florida. He made an appointment for eight AM the following Tuesday.
“Good morning, Mr. Peters, I understand you have some information that you wish to share with us. Let me introduce field agents Steve Wilson and Hector Armas. Okay, let’s get started.”
Buzz sat down, took a deep breath and began his story before he lost his nerve. “Mr. Peterson, three weeks ago I helped the campaign manager for Joe Martinez to hijack a drug shipment of heroin. Later I witnessed a murder designed to cover up this hijacking. I’m not proud of what I did. That’s why I’m here.”
Peterson leaned back in his chair. “Whew, you certainly know how to get our attention. Do you mind if we tape this conversation so there are no misunderstandings?”
Buzz nodded his approval. “Go ahead.”
“Okay, before we start, I should advise you of your right to have an attorney and that what you say here can be used against you in a court of law. Do you understand?”
“Yes I do. I don’t want an attorney. I just want to get this off my chest.”
“Okay, why don’t you tell us what happened in your own words? Start at the beginning. We have as much time as you need.”
Three hours later one thing became clear. Buzz really had no proof. The FBI verified that six bags of heroin had been seized that day, but there was no mention of two bags being missing. Martinez had held a press conference and taken credit for the drug bust. He was a hero. There had been no murder reported that night. The DEA had not reported another boat in the area. In short, it was only Buzz’ word that these events had occurred.
Buzz’ story about his two years of drug smuggling in Miami was also interesting, but could not be substantiated. Buzz was getting frustrated.
“Buzz, we couldn’t even arrest you, even though you have confessed to several crimes. A lawyer would have this case thrown out in minutes. But, we do believe you. Would you be willing to work with us to get the proof we need? It could be dangerous.”
“I will do whatever you ask.”
“Good. Steve is heading up an ongoing field operation relating to drug trafficking in the Caribbean. Hector Armas is looking into political corruption. I want you to stay where you are and see what evidence you can develop. Steve and Hector can get into the specifics. Will you do this?”
Buzz’ saga with the FBI had begun.
Chapter 14
Par 4 – 465 Yards
Special Delivery from the Dead