Chapter 49
The garage door opened, and the red taillights of a loaded box truck lit up Theo’s warehouse like a house of ill repute.
Theo was inside with Baptiste, the white guy who called himself Elton, and the Haitian handyman with the tool bag. They stepped
away from the exhaust fumes as the box truck backed into the open space between stacks of whiskey barrels. The engine stopped.
Elton closed the garage door. The driver jumped out, hurried around to the rear of the truck, and raised the roll-up panel.
The cargo box was loaded with footlockers like the one Theo had seen at the “planning meeting.” They were stacked from floor
to ceiling, one row against the left wall and another against the right, with an aisle-like opening down the center. Baptiste
switched on his flashlight, hopped into the back of the truck, and walked up and down the aisle counting footlockers.
He shined the flashlight on Theo’s face. “Here we go, cousin,” he said, as he jumped down to the concrete floor. “They’re
all here. I need all twenty empty barrels you promised.”
“Right in front of you,” said Theo.
“And the paperwork?”
“Done,” said Theo.
He shined the light in Theo’s eyes again. “Better be a good signature on the SED. If I find out you got cute and signed it
‘Mickey Mouse,’ we’ll ship out what’s left of you in one of those barrels.”
The “SED” was the “shippers export declaration,” a verification to U.S. Customs that the shipment contained the goods that
were listed and described in the bill of lading, invoice, and other shipping documents. The signatory faced criminal penalties
for any fraudulent statements.
“It’s my signature,” said Theo.
Baptiste put the flashlight away, ordered his men to unload the truck and fill the barrels, and then returned to Theo. “Lemme
see the documents, cousin.”
Theo was getting tired of Baptiste and the “cousin” crap.
“I already reviewed everything,” said Elton. “One container to Santo Domingo. Twenty-footer. Plenty of room for twenty barrels.
It’s all good.”
“Good for you, maybe,” said Baptiste. “I wanna see for myself.”
Elton pulled a pack of Marlboros from his shirt, showing no sign of being intimidated. “Knock yourself out,” he said. “I’ll
be in the alley. I need a smoke.”
Elton walked ahead of them, through the office and out the side exit to the alley. Theo and Baptiste stopped in the office.
Theo retrieved the paperwork from the filing cabinet and handed it over. Baptiste opened the file. Theo waited. From the strained
looked on Baptiste’s face, Theo wondered how well he could read English.
“Don’t be standing there watching me,” Baptiste said sharply. “You’re bothering me.”
Theo didn’t smoke, but he had no interest in helping Baptiste’s goons unload the truck and stuff his prized barrels with guns.
“I could use a cigarette too,” he said.
“Go. I’ll be right here,” said Baptiste.
Theo stepped out the side door to the alley. Elton was on the other side of the dumpster, talking on his cell phone. He spotted
Theo, ended the call, and walked toward him. They were standing just a few feet apart, but it was too dark for Theo to read
his facial expression. Even so, Theo sensed it was decision time: Either Baptiste was in for a huge surprise tonight or he
wasn’t. It all depended on the answer to Theo’s next question.
“So, Elton John, what’s the word?”
He put his phone away, his expression very serious. “Someone saved my life tonight,” he replied in code, saying so much more
than the title to an old song.
Theo felt a rush of adrenaline. The plan was in motion.
“Good to know, sugar bear.”
Andie was at the kitchen table with Righley, checking her math homework. One sheet of multiplying single-digit whole numbers
by multiples of 10.
“Mom, hurry up. It’s not that hard.”
Andie’s mind was elsewhere. “Looks good. Now give me twenty minutes of reading.”
Righley put her homework in her backpack and headed to her room. Andie’s cell rang with a call from her ASAC.
“Todd, what’s up?” she said into her phone.
“It’s Operation P-P-P. You said you wanted to be there when something breaks that involves your family.”
“Do you mean Jack?”
“No. Your extended family.”
It was a relief on one level, but at the same time, her heart broke for Theo. “Is it happening?”
“Imminently,” he said. “No reason to wall you off any longer. You still want to be there?”
“I do.”
“I can pick you up in the parking lot at the Hilton Garden Inn on Brickell. It’s right by the entrance to I-95 North. Can
you be there in fifteen minutes?”
She didn’t know when Jack was coming home, but she could leave Righley at the neighbor’s house.
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, and the call ended.
Theo walked up the alley, away from the dumpster and toward the side door to the warehouse.
Elton crushed out his cigarette and went with him.
The clouds shifted in the night sky, and the alley was suddenly less dark.
Theo hadn’t noticed earlier, when he and Elton were talking alongside the dumpster, but the side door was ajar.
The men stopped. The light in the office was off, making it darker inside than in the alley.
Theo was certain he’d left the light on and closed the door on his way out.
It was an outward-swinging door. It opened another foot and then, slowly, the rest of the way.
Baptiste was standing in the shadows just inside the doorway.
There was enough moonlight to see that he was holding a pistol.
“Don’t either one of you assholes move,” said Baptiste.
Through the earlier exchange of song lyrics in code, Theo had confirmed that “Elton” was FBI, so he would follow the agent’s
lead. Neither man moved.
“How long you been standing there?” asked Theo.
Baptiste smiled. “Long enough.”
Theo wasn’t sure if that meant Baptiste had overheard what was, objectively speaking, a strange conversation between two men
standing in an alley, including the code words that were a song title—“Someone Saved My Life Tonight.” But Baptiste’s next
question removed all doubt.
“You got something to tell me . . . sugar bear?”
Elton was armed and made a move for his gun, but Baptiste was quicker on the trigger. A shot rang out. Elton went down, and
his pistol landed on the pavement beside him. Theo was closer to the door, and before Baptiste could squeeze off another shot,
he slammed it shut with a roundhouse kick he’d learned in CJ’s class. He hurried to Elton’s side, grabbed the agent’s gun,
and fired a shot into the closed door that would surely make Baptiste think twice about entering the alley. It bought him
time to drag Elton to safety and take cover behind the dumpster. Theo crouched and kept one eye on the side door as he checked
Elton’s wound. He was hit in the left knee.
“You need an ambulance,” said Theo. “We have to make a run for it and call 911. I can carry you.”
“No!” said Elton. “Baptiste is shipping more than just handguns to Haiti. He’s got two dozen semiautomatic rifles and enough ammunition for an army. He’ll mow us down if we come running out of the alley. How good are you with a pistol?”
Theo didn’t mention his life as a Grove Lord. “I’m all right.”
He pulled his backup firearm from his ankle holster and handed it to Theo. “The two of us can maintain our position of cover.”
“We can’t just sit here,” said Theo.
“Better to hold and call for backup.” Elton was struggling to pull his phone from his pants pocket, so Theo did it for him.
The agent’s hand was shaking as he attempted to dial.
“Punch number eight for me,” Elton said through the pain.
Theo did so, and Elton spoke into the phone.
“Agent Aronberg,” he said identifying himself. “I’m hit in the knee but fine. Candle in the Wind.”
Theo wasn’t privy to that code, but he didn’t need to be a rocket man to figure out what it meant.