Page 34 of Against the Wind

“By when?” I asked.

“End of the month.” He swallowed hard. “Hurricane was coming. Figured everyone would be distracted. Clinic’s got painkillers, other stuff I could sell fast. Would’ve covered most of what I owed.”

Carson leaned forward. “And who exactly were you planning to sell to?”

“Same guys I owed. Figured they’d take it as payment, maybe even give me another chance.” Mickey’s laugh was hollow. “Stupid plan, right? But I was desperate. They ain’t the forgiving type.”

So the break-in wasn’t directly related to the trafficking. It really had been a crime of opportunity. That made me feel a little bit better. Gabi hadn’t been targeted, and the clinic itself would probably be fine.

But that didn’t mean this was all Mickey knew.

Carson apparently had the same thought. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Seeing as you’re not getting back in with them, doesn’t seem like you owe them much allegiance. You could trade information for a reduced sentence. You give us something useful, we help you out.”

“Information like what?”

“What can you tell us about your bosses’ operation?” I asked.

Mickey’s eyes darted between Carson and me, weighing his options. Finally, he slumped further in his chair.

“Started with the Lowe brothers. They got me running small packages up and down the coast. Nothing major at first. Then they introduced me to Heneghan. He’s the one handles most of the local distribution—splitting bigger shipments into smaller ones.”

Carson made a note. “And Ortiz?”

“Man, I never met him, and I don’t want to. That son of a bitch is scary. Shows up maybe every couple months to check on things. Works with some guy they call the Skipper—he’s the one who actually moves most of the product around. Then there’s this dude, the Shell Man, who handles the money side.”

I kept my expression neutral. Code names. Not surprising and not entirely helpful, though this was more than we’d known before. “Where do they usually make the transfers?”

“Changes. Sometimes it’s the old fish processing plant down in Wilmington. Other times they use these fishing boats—make it look like they’re just bringing in the day’s catch.”

“How much product we talking about?” Carson asked.

Mickey shrugged. “Used to be maybe twenty, thirty grand worth per run. Now? Man, last month they moved half a million through here in one go.”

Half a million. That was significantly more than the task force’s initial estimates. This operation was bigger than we’d thought.

“And where exactly are they storing all this?” Carson’s tone stayed casual, but I could see his interest sharpen.

“Dunno. I wasn’t involved in any of that. Seems like it probably moves around. But lately there’s been talking aboutsetting up something more permanent. Something about having protection from higher up, whatever that means.”

Did that mean some kind of government officials were in on this shit? It definitely bore further investigation.

Carson and I continued the interrogation, but Mickey knew nothing about the top-level organizers or the financial structure of the organization. The full scope of the operation was beyond him. I was pretty sure we were nearly done here.

“One more thing. You know anything about a boat from your bosses’ fleet going down in the storm?”

Mickey blinked. “Huh?”

“We found the wreckage over on the sound side of the island. Fishing boat. Torn more or less in half. We definitely recovered some product.”

Mickey whistled. “Oooeee, they’ll be pissed about that. But naw, I don’t know nothing about somebody tryin’ to make a runduringthe hurricane. That’s crazy talk.”

Carson glanced at me, but I was through with my questions. He gestured toward the one-way mirror, and one of his officers came inside to uncuff Mickey from the table and return him to a cell.

“Wait, what kinda deal am I gonna get?”

“That’ll depend on the DA. We can’t even get in touch with her until the phones are back up. Until then, you’re cooling your jets in a cell,” Carson informed him.

Mickey was still grumbling as he got escorted down the hall.

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