Page 25 of Fearless
Roger shakes his head. “Doubtful. Your father would sacrifice me if it were for the greater good, and I would expect nothing less from him. You, on the other hand, are different. You are his world, and he’d burn everything to the ground in order to save you.” My mother would, too, but I understand his need to keep her occupation a secret.
“I’m not leaving! I’m safer here surrounded by all of you than I am going into hiding,” I say and raise a hand to stop Roger when he opens his mouth to argue. “Today was a fluke because we weren’t aware that we had been identified. Now, we’ll be more careful. I’m used to being on my toes.”
Jessie chuckles. “I see what you did there!” She nudges Elijah, “Harper used to be a ballet dancer. She was so good she had been accepted into Juilliard.”
Elijah raises an eyebrow, assuming there is a good story behind the career change. I wave it away and keep us on track. “Did anyone see anything suspicious while on the excursion?”
Jessie shakes her head. “No. I placed cameras all around the boat and almost got caught while I was pretending to be lost trying to find the restroom. I managed to stick cameras in each of the rooms below the deck, with the exception of the bathroom. There are two small rooms, not much bigger than a closet; one of which is an office and the other used for cleaning supplies. The hull is used as a storage area and large enough to accommodate ten people comfortably and twenty with a reallytight fit.”
“That explains why I was escorted to the restroom on our excursion,” Leanna quips.
Carter adds, “The only thing suspicious that we saw is one of the crew using long-range binoculars to scan the horizon. With the dark clouds off in the distance, I couldn’t make out what he saw through the lenses. Whatever it was, it made him smile and whisper to another crewmate.”
Roger scrolls back through the recorded footage after Carter gives him a rough time stamp of the occurrence. Once he has it, he plays it for us all. It’s hard to pick up what’s being said over the wind, which is causing a static overlay, but we can make out a few words from the crewmember.
“We…contact. They…position. Meet…coordinates…midnight,” the man says. The other crew member nods in acknowledgment but doesn’t say anything in response.
Ethan watched the video on his screen and then asks, “Carter, do you know where you were when the event took place?”
“Approximately five miles directly south of the resort,” he replies.
Ben steeples his fingers and taps his chin. “Cuba is directly south of the Keys as well. International waters start twelve nautical miles from shore. There has been an influx of immigrants coming from Cuba, and each of them pays roughly $3,000 in American dollars just for a chance to make it to America.”
Leanna gasps. “That’s at least 60 thousand per boatload of immigrants. If they smuggle people every day, that’s almost 22 million per year. Man, I’m in the wrong line of work.”
Ethan chuckles. “Smuggling people as a daily operation ismuch too high of a risk. The Coast Guard patrols the waters, and the likelihood of getting caught increases.”
“Why not just alert the authorities and have them handle the smuggling ring?” Leanna asks.
“Because it doesn’t lead us to whoever is behind it. We need to cut the head off the snake, which means allowing this to go on until we figure it out,” I tell her. “The more proof we can gather, the stronger the case we’ll have.”
It goes against every fiber of my being to allow something illegal to go unchecked, but sometimes you have to ignore the low-hanging fruit so that you can get to the good stuff at the top. “This has to be about more than smuggling immigrants into the US. My father would never come down here for this. He would have assigned newer agents to the task or let the Border Patrol handle it, not bring along four agents who love to play commando and who can kill you with a glance.”
“I agree with Harper,” Jerry says. “The next time they smuggle people into the States, we need to find out where they are being taken. The cameras mounted in the bus will allow us to see who is being transported and hear their conversations, but what we really need to do is add a tracker.”
Roger grimaces. “Harper and I have eyes on us. Since we’re being watched, it’s safe to assume that Jessie, Elijah, Carter, and Leanna are also under surveillance. I don’t know how close we can get to placing a tracker on the shuttle buses without being detected.”
The rest of the team seated in the living room are annoyed by the change in circumstances because it’s going to make our jobs that much more difficult. Jessie stands up and paces the room,her hands laced on top of her head. Every time she comes near the closet, there’s a squeak.
“You should call maintenance and have them fix that floorboard, Roger. It’s annoying,” she says and then goes right back into work mode. “Savannah, have you narrowed down where the agents may be staying? I really want to get my hands on one of them and have a Q&A session.”
Savannah’s blond hair bounces on the screen as she shakes her head. “There are too many places willing to take cash or fly under the radar to avoid having to pay extra in taxes. Now that we know the search area can extend to Key Largo or further, it’s going to be nearly impossible. We’re still tracking any credit card usage, but they’re smart enough to know not to use them. I’m sorry. I wish I had more for you.”
“There haven’t been any new remote logins either,” Jerry replies. “I’m continuously monitoring and have set up a program to alert me if anyone tries to access the system. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”
Patrick has been taking notes, but something off to his right grabs his attention. He points at the screen. “It looks like your friends are preparing to set sail,” he says. We pull up the video feeds.
He’s right. Five men hidden in the shadows board the charter boat carrying an ice chest. Within minutes, they’re pulling away from the dock, and one of the men passes out beer that he retrieves from the cooler while another passes out fishing poles.
“Are they planning on smuggling people, or are they going for a midnight booze cruise?” I ask, confused by what’s playing out in front of me.
Roger scowls and pulls up the camera that has the best view of the crew. “We’re well aware that they’re meeting someone at midnight, and it’s 10:00 p.m. now. If they get to the rendezvous point early, then ‘partying’ it up is a good excuse if the Coast Guard comes upon them. I’d do the same thing if I were in their position.”
One of the men on the crew asks, “Do you think they’ll be there?”
“I was told they would be. I received updated coordinates because of patrols in the area,” the man piloting the boat says. “The plan is the same. Go lights out and change radio frequencies once we arrive at the designated location. They’ll only approach if it’s safe, otherwise we’ll receive updated instructions. But man, we really need to get the package if we want our bonus.”
“How many more of these runs will we have to do? I don’t want to go to jail over a few extra bucks. My mama would wring my neck and tan my hide if I end up getting arrested,” another person says, sounding much younger than the rest.
