Read Online Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin by Gerald McCallum - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Gerald McCallum
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full of blood and bullet holes.
We left for Honeymoon Harbor in three days. The captain said that we draft six feet and if the entrance to the harbor had filled in, we would have to go straight to town and get a slip. We’d see when we got there and take it real slow.
In less than half a day we could see the uprights lined up to guide boats through the channel next to the shore where the deeper water was, which led to town or Honeymoon Harbor. The Bama Flats as they are called are nine feet deep and run for three million square miles. Even more amazing is the water in the flats, so clear with a slight tint of blue. “Look!” I called out to the kids who joined me at the railing. “You can read the ingredients on a Coors can on the bottom!” I said. This gave the kids hours of fun.
The water was so clear it was invisible and boats seem to simply take flight.
We finally got into Honeymoon Harbor and set the anchors. There were three other boats in the harbor, from a fifty foot Cat with two couples on board to a one hundred foot Broward with an old woman and a gigolo on board. Only one boat had kids on board about our son and daughter’s ages. They could ride Jet Skis or dive together.
The first night we had a relaxing dinner on our boat. The meal consisted of fresh caught fish, grilled and topped with a kick-ass mango papaya salsa. The kids fell asleep early, tired from all the fresh air and excitement of being in a new place.
We adults sat around smoking Cuban cigars and drinking margaritas until midnight when we called it quits. Angel and I had just finished making love and were snuggled together when small planes buzzed overhead, heading toward one of the private air strips close by.
We soon discovered this was a nightly occurrence. One night I counted a dozen or so planes coming or going, all flying over us with their lights off. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what was going on.
We spent the next week diving and partying with our new neighbors. It seems the fifty foot Cat and the one hundred foot Broward had been docked at the same place some years back at Bay Side Marina in the Keys. One of the men on the Cat used to go with the marina owner Nikki, who had been murdered by her lover, a black dancer named Isabelle who had disappeared into thin air, and even weirder, Mack, the old runner at the marina got shot and died. For a while, apparently, murder had been on the menu at the Bay Side Marina, the location of some heavy cocaine smuggling for about twenty years.
I was happy to be out of danger, for there are no old kingpins. They were either in the ground or in jail, their families almost always left destitute. That wasn’t going to happen to me or my kids.
CHAPTER 7
After a week of diving and jet skiing, we got two slips in Bimini Sands side by side and slipped the boats there so we could sight-see South Bimini Town.
We left our golf carts at the landing where they sell conch fritters. Proper South Bimini is only two thousand acres or so. The main island can be toured all in one day. One man bought eight hundred acres, tore down all the houses and built a large marina for boats up to two hundred feet. He also built several hundred condos and houses. I wondered where he’d gotten his money.
The six of us made the rounds of Bimini Town and had lunch at the Big Game Fish Club. Coke could be found anywhere in town, and given my past, I was aware of the buy sites.
By now Maria and Teo were in their early teens. I’d seen too many kids with poor judgment fall under the influence of illegal drugs, so I thought it best to keep them on our own island as much as possible. I wanted them to keep their innocence as long as possible.
Angel and I talked about where to travel next, and decided on Miami. The crossing was only forty-two miles, and on Friday night or Sunday afternoon the ocean looked like a freeway with boats and jet skis going and coming to Bimini. We left on
We left for Honeymoon Harbor in three days. The captain said that we draft six feet and if the entrance to the harbor had filled in, we would have to go straight to town and get a slip. We’d see when we got there and take it real slow.
In less than half a day we could see the uprights lined up to guide boats through the channel next to the shore where the deeper water was, which led to town or Honeymoon Harbor. The Bama Flats as they are called are nine feet deep and run for three million square miles. Even more amazing is the water in the flats, so clear with a slight tint of blue. “Look!” I called out to the kids who joined me at the railing. “You can read the ingredients on a Coors can on the bottom!” I said. This gave the kids hours of fun.
The water was so clear it was invisible and boats seem to simply take flight.
We finally got into Honeymoon Harbor and set the anchors. There were three other boats in the harbor, from a fifty foot Cat with two couples on board to a one hundred foot Broward with an old woman and a gigolo on board. Only one boat had kids on board about our son and daughter’s ages. They could ride Jet Skis or dive together.
The first night we had a relaxing dinner on our boat. The meal consisted of fresh caught fish, grilled and topped with a kick-ass mango papaya salsa. The kids fell asleep early, tired from all the fresh air and excitement of being in a new place.
We adults sat around smoking Cuban cigars and drinking margaritas until midnight when we called it quits. Angel and I had just finished making love and were snuggled together when small planes buzzed overhead, heading toward one of the private air strips close by.
We soon discovered this was a nightly occurrence. One night I counted a dozen or so planes coming or going, all flying over us with their lights off. It wasn’t too hard to figure out what was going on.
We spent the next week diving and partying with our new neighbors. It seems the fifty foot Cat and the one hundred foot Broward had been docked at the same place some years back at Bay Side Marina in the Keys. One of the men on the Cat used to go with the marina owner Nikki, who had been murdered by her lover, a black dancer named Isabelle who had disappeared into thin air, and even weirder, Mack, the old runner at the marina got shot and died. For a while, apparently, murder had been on the menu at the Bay Side Marina, the location of some heavy cocaine smuggling for about twenty years.
I was happy to be out of danger, for there are no old kingpins. They were either in the ground or in jail, their families almost always left destitute. That wasn’t going to happen to me or my kids.
CHAPTER 7
After a week of diving and jet skiing, we got two slips in Bimini Sands side by side and slipped the boats there so we could sight-see South Bimini Town.
We left our golf carts at the landing where they sell conch fritters. Proper South Bimini is only two thousand acres or so. The main island can be toured all in one day. One man bought eight hundred acres, tore down all the houses and built a large marina for boats up to two hundred feet. He also built several hundred condos and houses. I wondered where he’d gotten his money.
The six of us made the rounds of Bimini Town and had lunch at the Big Game Fish Club. Coke could be found anywhere in town, and given my past, I was aware of the buy sites.
By now Maria and Teo were in their early teens. I’d seen too many kids with poor judgment fall under the influence of illegal drugs, so I thought it best to keep them on our own island as much as possible. I wanted them to keep their innocence as long as possible.
Angel and I talked about where to travel next, and decided on Miami. The crossing was only forty-two miles, and on Friday night or Sunday afternoon the ocean looked like a freeway with boats and jet skis going and coming to Bimini. We left on
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