Into The Frying Pan

The sunset at our backs as we leave for Punta Gorda.


We step off the boat and make sure the guns are tucked away. The deck hand looks at us as he stands, holding the sides of his head at the sight of Agaki's bloody body. I turn and walk and hear Lou behind me. The boy on the boat says something to Lou, who in return tells him that it is not our problem.
Agaki is one of the people in this adventure that I actually enjoyed. Now this whole thing has killed him as well.
I feel Lou's hand on my shoulder, "His satellite phone... did you see it?"
"No." I tell him as I walk toward the club, "he didn't have it on him, and I didn't think to look at the people getting off."
"Neither did I."
Lou is walking beside me now. "We don't need it." He looks straight ahead and talks through his teeth, just in case someone is watching us. "I don't think they planned on him being alive." He does a quick look behind us, "I think they wanted to see who was here to meet him... and they did."

We walk in silence up toward Dominican's to look for Loco.
"You better go wash your hands, Lou."
He looks down at the drying bloody mess on his left hand. The right hand is clean. We get inside and Lou hits the head. I step up to the bar and order a couple of beers and a couple of shots of local hooch. The dinner and drinks crowd is gathering again. I see one or two faces from the water taxi, but could be standing right next to someone that was on the boat and not know their face.
"Better?" Lou holds his hand up for inspection.
"Yeah... I guess. What the fuck are we going to do now?"
"Do you see Loco?" Lou takes his shot and downs it, chasing it with a few chugs off the beer.
"Nope. Just these tourists, and a couple of killers that are probably watching us." I shift the gun in the waist band of my shorts and it falls out and hits the floor. "Oh shit... "
I leap off my stool and crouch down to pick it up. While I am going to grab it the cold steel barrel of a shotgun is pressed unceremoniously to the side of my face.
"Do not move, Senior."
I look to my left and see shined shoes and a uniform. The barrel gives me a shove and then lifts under my chin until I am standing. I am looking face to face with a man my age with a severe lack of character and a big gun to make up for it. Beyond him are three others in uniform with weapons at the ready. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that I am in deep shit. He shouts a quick order to one of his men and they move into action. One of them grabs my pistol from the floor, the other two brace Lou, who gives them no trouble... not yet anyway.

"A man is dead... " He says to me in a thick accent. "You have a gun, a killer most definately."
"No, Pedro, I am a mechanic and sometimes pilot. And that man on the boat was stabbed, not shot."
The shot gun spins like the man is in a parade and the butt of it catches me in the solarplexes. I drop to my knees and try to breathe. It is the only thing I can think of at the moment, that and the stars I see.
"Sálgalos sólo!" A voice calls from the side of the bar. I hear rushing foots steps and guns cocking.
"Estoy con estos hombres. ellos están bajo mi cuidado." The voice says... I think. Lou helps me out with what I am thinking.
"It's the cavalry, Jake, just stay down and catch your breath."
Loco calms the men, calls them off. When I finally stand, I put both hands on my hips and breath as deeply as the pain allows. "Well... I found Loco."

"You boys get into trouble while Loco is gone. You should stay on the boat with Blanco, my friends."
"Shhhh, Loco, lets keep our accomodations private, okay?" Lou tells him.
Loco holds my new pistol in his hand, "Keep from sight, my friend. Those Federales, they not listen to me again. I tell them you watching your DEA and that you keep the money flowing. You know this means... ? What this is?"
"Well, I can guess."
"These Federales make more pesos collecting from traffickers than from our government. I tell them you making money flow. That they stay far away from you so you do your work."
Lou gives him a slap on the back and pushes a shot his way, "That is quick thinking, Loco."

We take a table near the back of the establishement and watch the people, looking for someone that might be looking back. The men that killed Agaki had to be here, waiting for us, watching.
"Who do we look for, seniors?" Loco asks between draws on his beer.
"Don't know, Loco. We saw our friend wave, and ran to him. The damage had been done before we set eyes on him, so we don't know who did it." I take a shot and then roll the shot glass on it's edge awhile.
Lou waves to the barkeep and holds up three fingers. The man brings three more beers and three more shots our way. "Loco, we need to make it to the islands off of Punta Gorda and meet our friend's boat. But we need to make it out of here without these people knowing about it. We don't need them to know that Whitey is involved, or about the Morgan. It needs to be as secretive as possible."
"You want I should go speak to Blanco for him to take this danger? It should be a choice, okay?"
"Yeah, Loco, you go talk to Whitey. You tell him what is up. You tell him the money he got today should pay for the danger." Lou gives him a shove in the right direction, but grabs the last inch of his sleeve to stop him. He picks up the shotgun from the bar, "You might need this."

Lou is busy talking to a little cutie that stepped up to the bar just as Loco walked off toward the marina. I watch as two of the men I presume were off the water taxi casually leave the restaurant and take up following Loco.
"Hey... Lou, hey, those guys are the guys." I turn and see him kissing on this girl, or so he would hope. She has a real deep voice. "LOU."
"What?"
"I think I found our guys."
"Good, you take care of it."
"Come one, Lou, let's go."
"Busy."
"Jesus."

I check the load in the gun for the fifth time and step out of the restaurant into the darkness. I can see Loco out on the marina heading for the boat, and the two men hiding in the shadows just after the gated entrance, the gate propped open with a large rock. One of the two men slinks up onto the pier and then waves the other up. In the single light that hangs over the entrance I see the glint of a blade... just for a moment. It is going to be another blood bath, and Loco and Blanco are the guests of honor. Shit.
I make may way down to the marina, never taking my eyes off the two men as they work their way down to the Morgan. Loco is on board now, talking to Blanco. Even if these men don't kill the two of them, they will overhear what we are going to do and the damage will be done.
I am on the pier now, hoping that none of these timbers squeek. The two men are aside the Morgan now. One of them motions to the other to look around and keep watch. I hit the deck and roll toward one of the big wooden storage boxes at the head of each slip. I don't think is sees me.
I do my best to make it toward the Morgan unseen before it's too late. But it is not to be. The man on watch sees me and then takes a shot. I stand, gun levelled at this man who stands twenty feet down and to my right. Three shots, boom... boom... boom, followed by a shotgun blast that propells the intruder out and up on the dock from the Morgan, the blade of the knife catching the light as it spins around over head and then disappears into the waters of the bay.
"LOCO?"
"What the FUCK?" There is a lot of swearing, then he appears from the safety of the Morgan.
"It's okay, Loco, I got the other one."
"No shit... you guys are okay?"
"Well, I am okay, Lou is up at the bar talking to someone."
"These are the guys?" He watches my approach in the darkness until we are side by side, standing over the body of the man I shot. It is questionable weather or not this man is dead until I try to find a pulse... unsuccessfully. The man Loco shot is surely dead, with a hole through his chest you could pass a coffee can through.
I motion to his body, "Nice shot."
"Si."
"No shit."

Lou comes running down the dock, gun drawn. I am surprised he doesn't do a quick roll with his entrance. "You guys okay?" The Kimber sweeps back and forth until I tell him that the bad guys are down.
Lou walks over to the man with the hole in his chest, "Jesus... what did you shoot this guy with, a cannon?"
"Double aught buckshot, it makes nice hole, eh?" Loco smiles as he admires his handy work. "Who says never take a shotgun to knife fight, eh?"
"Good one, Loco."

With Blanco informed on what was going to happen, or what we thought was going to happen, we ready the Morgan for a quick trip to the islands off of Punta Gorda. Loco does his best to smooth things over with the Federales we had been introduced to earlier in the day. He was happy to hand the two dead bodies over as the killers of the man on the water taxi. I have to say that killing that man was particularly satisfying, knowing that he had a part, or was directly responsible for Agaki's death.
As the sun sets at our backs, we set our sails and make for the islands. We run without lights for the couple of hours we will be at sea. When we near the islands we will have to drop the sails and run on the engine so we remain unseen on the horizon. The fiberglass ship should have little or no radar profile, and allow us to sneek up on the situation. I have a feeling that we won't be seeing Bear on the same terms as before. With all that has occured we are heading straight into danger, either by his hand or by someone elses.

The Meeting

Water Taxi in Puerto Barrios. This is how our contact arrived.



With the scuba tank for sharing air and an underwater flashlight we were able to take a closer look at the Sea Ray on the bottom. The electronics are gone. Radar unit, radios, depth finders, anything like televisions and stereos... all gone. There are two staterooms, both in a shambles aside from being underwater. You can see that the room had been tossed, everything opened, contents floating in the room with our self created current as we move about.

Lou motions to me for the flashlight. I hand it to him and he shines it in an open closet and then reaches in and picks at something. He really works it with his free hand and then pulls out the flat piece of wood that made up what looked like the back of the closet above the drawers. The panel reveals a couple of pistols, clips, a banded stack of currency, and what looks like a couple of passports. I reach up and take a hit of air and he does the same. Then Lou shines the light behind me in the small stateroom and pans the room, settling on a net-type laundry bag that is waving in the current. He wiggles the light on it and I retrieve it. We stuff the booty in the bag and move back to the main salon. Lou points to the regulator and then puts his thumb and forefinger together... short time... small amount of air. We both take another hit of air and then make our way out of the yacht and up to the silhouette of the Morgan.

Blanco hauls the bag up and then gives us a hand onto the boat.
"Yeah, Whitey, that boat was stripped bare." Lou tells him, picking the laundry bag up off of the deck. He holds it up like it is full of store-bought goldfish and looks in through the netting. "We got us a couple of nice guns, a stack of money, and some identification." He looks at me as he drops the bag to his side. "You know, I've spent most of my life just getting by. I meet you and now I have more money than I know what to do with."
"How much is it?"
Lou takes the bag into the cabin and we follow. He dumps the contents onto the table. "Fifty thousand." He tosses the stack of money to me and I turn it over in my hands, then I hand it Blanco and he does the same.
"Parta que arriba tres maneras," Lou tells him. Blanco tears the strap off and starts dealing bills into three piles.
I pick up one the passports and look at the picture. A bushy silver haired old man stares back from the picture, "Arnold Menton" I say outloud as I read the name and then look at the address. "Glendale Arizona..."
"What?" Lou sets one of the pistols down and reaches for the passport, "Let me see that."
I pick up the other one and look see the same picture, but this one has a different name, "Arturo Montoya from Belize bares a striking resemblance to old Arnold, don't you think?"
Lou takes the Montoya passport and holds it side by side to the Menton document, then drops Montoya back on the table, holding on to Menton.
"This name is the same name that is on Naomi's documents." He looks at Blanco. "Hey Whitey, how long has this boat been down here?"
Blanco thinks for a second, "Una semana, quizá un día o dos más."
"One week, maybe a day or two more," Lou translates as he stares into the picture. He turns to Blanco, "Get us out of here, Whitey, now."

We pull anchor and raise the sails. There is decent wind and we will make better time under sail than with the diesel. Lou has a sense of urgency that has yet to be explained.
"So, what's the deal?"
"Are you serious?" He grabs Menton's passport, "That yacht on the bottom was sunk from underneath this guys feet, that's what. They were looking for something but didn't find it. This guy's body isn't on the boat, but Whitey heard that he had been executed."
"Wait, how do you know they didn't find it? What they are looking for, I mean."
"Because we have it. This is the same guy that owned Naomi. The same guy that Bear questioned about the stones. The same guy that probably spilled the beans to the guys that took the boat. The same guys that followed us. The same guys that we... I blew out of the sky in Costa Rica." He sees the same fear in my eyes that he is masking in his. "Ahhh, now you understand."
"Unfortunately."

We make good time back toward the marina. I go back to our bunks and have the urge to see the diamonds. Not that I don't trust Blanco... but I don't trust anyone but Lou at this point. I look in his stash and find nothing but weed and pre-rolled Walkers. My heart jumps. They are gone.
"Lou... will you come back here please."
I wait for a moment while he pulls the slide back on the pistol he has been cleaning and lets it snap back into place. "Yeah, coming."
When he comes back he sees the look on my face. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"They're gone."
"What is gone?"
"The stones. They aren't in your bag."
"You rifled my bag?"
"Well, no... with all that was happening I just wanted to check on the stones. And they are gone. As in not there, as in... "
"Relax, the stones aren't gone. They've been with me the whole time."
My mind processes this for a moment. "But what about when we went down to the Sea Ray, all you had on is what you are wearing now. Is there a secret pocket or something in those?"
"Well, no."
I take a moment longer, then... "Oh you sick fuck."
"Safest place for them for now."

We hit the marina and tie up. We don't leave the Morgan, but drink a few brews while Lou cleans the guns. "This is an officer's model Kimber forty five. A pretty expensive weapon. I'll keep this one." He looks at me for any objection. I have none. "But this one is yours, Jake, Springfield Armory officer's model, same caliber. Nice taste old Arnold had. The only ammo we have is what is in the clips. We need a box or two."
I can only wonder what trouble he expects to get into where we are going to need a box or two of ammunition.
"Oh... we're in plenty of trouble right now, forget what we are going to get into later."
"Will you stop that, what are you now... a mind reader?"
"No, but I can read your face pretty easily. Let's look at the timeline for a moment. I think that this guy Arnold was into these diamonds by accident, kind of like us. A little piss-ant boat like that Sea Ray, a plane like Naomi, hell... these stones look like they are priceless. If they were his for real then he would have a boat like Bear's just to run him to shore from his BIG boat. No, this guy either stole them or stumbled on them. The guys who they really belong to, or were intended for are the guys that probably followed us. They probably tracked old Arnold down after Bear was through with him and then tried to get the answer out of him. They searched, stripped, and sank his boat... then came after the plane when he told him that is where they were. I don't quite know how Bear fit's in with this, but if the guy stumbled onto these stones was dealing with Bear on another transaction, maybe he gave up the stones during interrogation, but didn't specify exactly on the plane they were."

I listen and questions pop up during Lou's brainstorm. "Wouldn't the guys in the plane have tortured the old man until he gave up the stones or died with the secret?"
"That's entirely possible. He told Bear they were in the plane because Bear practically admitted that they tore that plane apart."
I look at Lou and he looks at me. Blanco stares our way with those rabbit eyes and freaks the hell out of both of us. He holds the stacks of money out to us.
"One each," He says with that deep voice.
Lou slaps the clip in the Kimber and pulls the slide back, jacking one into the chamber. He nods toward the other forty-five and I pick it up and do the same, chambering a round and then safetying the weapon. I tuck it into the back of my shorts and pull my shirt down over the top.

Up on deck, Blanco makes a ready deck, coiling lines and stowing sails. Lou and I lend a hand when needed, but we have the meeting on our minds. It is almost four in the afternoon, and although we didn't specify a time for our meeting, we told Bear we wouldn't arrive until late afternoon. A local ferry boat motors by, packed to the gunnels with tourists and traders from Punta Gorda in Belize just up the bay. As it passes I think I see a familiar face.
"Hey, Lou, is that Agaki?"
Lou turns but the boat has passed. We look at the thirty or so people, and then we see him turn and look right at us. "Yep, that's Agaki." Lou gives him a hearty wave. When Agaki waves back weakly his hand is crimson with blood. There is a scream, then another. Agaki collapses into the crowd.
"Shit... "
We leap off the boat, guns drawn, and race to the spot where the water taxi is docking. The screams continue, the crowd of people are leaping off the twenty-five foot boat as it tries to tie up. A deck hand and now the captain are hovering over the top of Agaki, his blood soaked clothing that had been held tightly to what looks like a knife wound is now in a pile near the pooling blood in the bottom of the boat.
"AGAKI... We're here, buddy, we're here with you." Lou sees his lips move, but no words come out.
Lou looks up at me, "Get a doctor."
He looks at the captain, who would surely know better than me where to find a doctor in this town. "Obtenga a un médico." The captain rushes off of the boat and sprints up the dock.
Lou puts his ear right next to Agaki's mouth. He listens to the breathless information, then turns to me. "They stabbed him when he got on the taxi, in Punta Gorda. Bear's yacht is at anchor off of one of the small islands just north east of the big island."
Just as Lou finishes translating, Agaki takes in a deep breath and then lets it out. He never draws another.
"Awe crap... " I take his wrist and feel for a pulse. Agaki is dead. "Motherfuckers, they killed him."
"We are in some deep shit." Lou turns and looks back at the crowd of people that had disembarked. He looks at me and then gestures for me to come closer. "I think they are in that crowd of people."
"His killers?"
"Yeah, it makes sense that they would want to see who he was coming to meet. We would have found him dead or alive. I think they wanted us to find him dead."
"What now?"
Lou looks at the crowd, which seems to be dispersing now. "I think we better not leave with them watching us. We will need a diversion, and the cover of night." He looks down at Agaki and then stands. We climb up on the pier. "Loco should be up at the club. Let's find him. Maybe he can help us get out of here tonight without these guys knowing where we're going or how."

Spiders and Shipwrecks

Lou's girl found this crawling on her while they were doing it. He says it was the worst case of crabs he had ever seen.


Gunshots... maybe three. I lift the girl off of me and sit up in the cushioned alcove of the Morgan. Then there is the shouting... cursing is more like it.
"That's Lou... " I jump up and pull my clothes on and then look down at my beautiful bank teller. I smile at our transaction... a deposit as I recall. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

After the cursing there is a woman screaming. It continues just long enough for me to get a bearing on where they are. I run barefoot while zipping up and buttoning my pants. No gun, nothing in the way of a weapon to help Lou with what ever shit he is into. The girl screams again and there is another gun shot.
"SHIT... " I run faster now, the remains of the coca powering me up a small rise behind the Domincan restaurant and down into a little glade before the jungle starts. I see a light colored blanket in the dark spread out.

"I gotcha you little SHIT." I hear him off to my left. Then the girl screams a little and runs toward me, naked as the day she was born, and holds me, putting me between herself and Lou.
"LOU? It's me, man... is everything okay out here?"
"Hell ya, it is now." He comes toward with the nine millimeter in one hand and something else in the other. "Now that I have our little friend here."
Lou holds up the item in his other hand and I feel like grabbing the little honey that has her arms around me. It is a tarantula, writhing around in his grip."

"Get that fucking thing out of here, man."
"It's just a spider, you pussy. This one won't even kill you."
"Wanna bet?"
"Come on, she held it." He says, gesturing to her with the hairy little bastard legging around between his thumb and forefinger. She shoots back with something in Spanish... not I love you I am reasonably sure.
"What did she say?" I hold her close... naked and very nice.
"She says she didn't hold it. It crawled across her face while we were fucking on that blanket over there."
I loosen my grip and start looking in the dark at the ground around us. "Do these things travel in packs?"
Lou holds the struggling arachnid up to eye level and looks at his prize in the darkness. "She is beautiful, don't you think?"
"I don't like spiders when they are bigger than a dinner plate."
"To bad you don't have your camera." Lou says, sounding disappointed at the opportunity to document the moment. His girl says something and gestures to her purse laying to one side of the blanket. Apparently she has a camera in her bag. Lou rejoices and we snap the picture. Then he walks away with the spider and throws it into the edge of the jungle like an empty beer can.
"What are you doing out here anyway? Why didn't you come back to the boat?"
"She's shy, I guess."
"Well you're not. Put some fucking clothes on."
"Hold my gun."

The rising sun warms us as we lay on the top of the Morgan, each of us with our perspective bank tellers, wrapped in blankets. We have been sitting here since the spider incident, talking at first, then dozing off and on. Smoked a nice Walker about an hour ago. Lou just concluded a story about him in Haiti and something about the statute of limitations when you garote a cab driver.
"Fucker was taking me way off road. No where near the place I wanted to go, man. I should have killed the bastard. As it is he will never swallow normally again, or breath, or talk for that matter."
"Nice. Any other hits we want to tell our ladies about, Lou?" I swallow the remains of a Red Stripe and look around for a place to throw the empty. From behind me, a deep voice says something in mother tongue. I turn and see Blanco behind me, staring at me in the dawning light. "Jesus, Blanco, you scared the shit out of me."
"He says to not throw the bottle away, he gets his deposit back on the case." My girl translates in her sweet broken English.
I hold the bottle out to Blanco and he reaches out and grabs it.
"Hey, Whitey, toss me another beer." Lou looks at me with a raised brow, like "am I going to let him drink alone", or as Lou would say "you gonna be a pussy you panty waste motherfucker?"
"Me too, Blanco."

New beers, and plans for the day courtesy of our host. Blanco tells us there is a shipwreck we can go see about three miles off shore. It is shallow enough to snorkel. Lou tells him he is a certified salvage diver. Just another thing he knows how to do and another thing that I don't.
"Nothing to it," he tells me, "Just don't come up too fast or you're fucked."
"Well hell, if it were that easy my Aunt Fannie would be a salvage diver."
"You have an Aunt Fannie?"

The girls headed off to get ready for work at about seven in the morning. Loco had left us while we were still dancing at Dominican's, but he would be back after noon when he had someone else that could take his security guard shift. He told us he would call in sick and take us, but we would be alright. Loco is a cool cat, and we already consider him a friend.
Lou and I hadn't slept a wink last night with the exception of my dozing off during his attempted taxi cab driver execution story. But we are not tired. That coca leaf could become a permanent part of my diet as far as I am concerned. Everyone around here seems to treat it as though it were nothing. But process it and have a little white powder on your person you could end up in the Caribbean version of Midnight Express.

It is a little after nine when we cast off and motor out of the marina. Blanco and Lou are chatting it up while Blanco pilot's us toward the shipwreck. I am on the bow of the boat having a Titanic moment, King of the World and all that. We raise the sails and shut the engine down. The Morgan rides the waves like a Cadillac rolling down the interstate. It is a heavy boat, heavy and sure. The breeze caresses you like a woman's touch, light and comfortable. The boat lists over with the wind in it's sails, Blanco holding her to the course he has set. Just to look at him, you know he is at home on the ocean.

I take my post up on the bow and see dolphins running the waves with us. They barely break the surface as they stream along just under the water. I turn to see Lou and Blanco discussing something between hits on a Walker. I look back to the water as we pass out of the harbor and in to the Spanish Main, El Carib... the bright blue waters of the Caribbean.

When I climb back over the cabin and down by the pilot house of the Morgan, Lou sucks in a deep hit and then passes the Walker to me. Blanco looks my way and smiles. He nods as I take the joint and hit it.
"Blanco says a couple of guys were executed on this yacht. They stole what they wanted, then scuttled and sank her."
I let my hit out in a cloud that our ten knots carries off behind the boat. "Who executed them."
"Pirates."
"Pirates... of the Caribbean. Pirates of the Caribbean killed these guys and sunk their boat?" I look at the two of them and they nodded in return. "You are both stoned out of your minds."
"No, Jake, it's true. It happens all of the time out here. A yacht will anchor in some secluded cove and spend the night, only to be boarded, robbed, and then executed. That is why the more experience captains will put in to an anchorage that is well populated."
"What the fuck are you all of a sudden? Captain Bligh or something? Don't tell me you're a sailor too."
"As a matter of fact I have spent a summer island hopping on a pretty nice trimaran about six years back."
I look at him and smile, "I can't wait until someone needs brain surgery."
"Fuck you."

We sailed for a good forty-five minutes when Blanco called out something in Spanish. Lou got my attention on the bow, "We need to take tension off the sheets and get the sails down. We're here."
Between the three of us we manage to get her stopped and the sails down within a minute or two. Blanco fired up the diesel and motored back to a specific spot on the GPS, then shut her down.
"This is it, I guess." Lou looks to Blanco, who confirms by going into the cabin and retrieving masks, fins, and snorkels.
"How deep is it?" I ask Blanco, who understands what I am saying. The holds up three fingers.
"Thirty feet?" He nods.

Lou straps a knife to his calf and I take the spear gun. I have shot one a time or two and at least know how. I am more concerned with not shooting Lou on the way out of the boat. We splash in backwards like they do in any diving movie and are off to the shipwreck. It is hardly that, a shipwreck I mean. This was deliberately sunk by pirates, not by accident. I get half way down and have to come back up for air. I didn't plan it right. So I exhale several times and take a deep breath, then dive down to where Lou is already.

It is a large powerboat, a Sea Ray, maybe thirty five feet long. I would think it would be a prize in it's own right. But apparently too hard to conceal from authorities. I watch Lou disappear into the cabin. He can hold his breath for a long time. I don't feel the urge to resurface, not yet anyway. I gain entrance to the main salon and see Lou up near the roof treading water. When I surface next to him I am in an air pocket.
"Hey, this is great, huh?" Lou says into the echoing darkness of the air pocket.
"Okay."
"Just relax. I don't think there is too much breathable air in here, so we better take our breaths and then head back up. I think Whitey has a scuba tank. We can share the air if he does."

We make our way up to the Morgan and Blanco sets us up with the one scuba tank he has. Lou dons the tank and regulator, shows me how to take a hit of air, and schools me on not surfacing too fast not that we are deep enough for that. We have several hours ahead of us, about forty five minutes of air, a yacht that may yield a few unfound treasures, and then the meet this afternoon. Looks like a full day.

Loco and the Albino

Loco, our guide in Puerto Barrios. He is loaded.


Eduardo's brother is called Loco. I am hoping it is one of those nicknames like tiny when the guy is huge... you know. But as we drive away from the airstrip, I am thinking otherwise. The old Toyota he is driving has two speed settings... floored and stopped. There is no in between. It is about four miles in to Puerto Barrios, but we get there like it is just down the street. We haven't told him where we are going, but he knows we need a place to stay.

There are several large resorts in the area, and a few hotels. We end up down at the Marina. When the car lunges to a stop, Loco turns in his seat and talks to us... well he talks Lou.
"He says his cousin has a boat we can stay on for two hundred dollars."
"A night?"
"No... the whole time we are here." Lou converses with him for a while longer, then turns to me.
"He says that his cousin will take us anywhere we want to go."
I look at Loco and talk to Lou, "Tell him that we'll check it out, but we aren't promising anything."

The three of us get out and walk down the Marina to a boat slip at the end of the dock. The boats down here are pretty choice. Even the worst looking of them is better than anything I would have expected.
Loco stops in front of a boat that we have already walked past and he shouts a name. His cousin climbs up out of the main cabin of the yacht and gives him a wave. Loco calls us back.
"This my cousin Blanco's boat."
I look at Lou, "Let's hope his English holds out."
The cousin steps onto the dock. The guy is as white as a ghost. Loco leans into the two of us and whispers, "Don't stare at Blanco, okay... he's an albino and it freaks him out."
Freaks HIM out? I take a quick look at his eyes and I swear they are pink like the Easter Bunny.

Blanco doesn't say a word. Loco talks for him, giving us a little tour of the forty foot Morgan sailboat. It is nicely kept for an older boat. I give it a thumbs up, so does Lou. We hand him four hundred dollars and let him know to keep the food and liquor stocked. Blanco nods and smiles showing off some impressive white teeth. If it was a blizzard right now he would be completely invisible.

Loco walks us up to the main Marina complex. With him in his uniform and a shotgun in his hands it looks more like we are under arrest.
"Hey, Loco, why don't you take some time out and go home and change out of your work clothes." I tell him.
"I keep uniforma and gun for your protection. And I get free drinks."
"I got you covered on that one, Loco."
Lou nudges me, "Let him keep the uniform on, man. We don't have to hassle with anyone if he is putting on a show for us."
"Okay then."

It takes all of two seconds for us to recognize the meeting place for tomorrow. "Dominican's" sits on the corner of the Marina near the breakwater. It is a restaurant and bar... mostly bar, that has patio seating for at least a hundred. From what I remember about Puerto Barrios, this restaurant is a little out of this place's class.
Loco tells us that the restaurant was built for tourist's when they come.
"When do they come?" I ask him.
"The boats... cruise ships. They are suppose to put Puerto Barrios on the stops for this."
"In case of what, a hurricane?"

We walk into the restaurant and take a seat near the bar. A man with a thin moustache and a three piece suit comes out and greets us, smiling and nodding at us as he speaks to Loco. Lou says something to him in Spanish and jumps a little. I think he was suprised that we... that Lou speaks the language.
"Yes, of course Senior, we have many selections." He says with an eager smile.
"Selection of what?" I turn to Lou.
"Tequila."
"Oh shit."
Lou looks at Loco, "What is the best tequila he sells?"
Loco smiles, "Muerte Verde, but this is many thousand pesos."
"You let me worry about that." Lou turns to the man, "We'll take a bottle of that and three glasses."
The man's smile thinned a little. "Would you like to start a tab, sir."
Lou pulls a roll of hundreds out of his pants pocket. Normally this would be a bad and bold move to make in a third world country... but it's Lou and he is strapped. "You worried about something, Mac?"
The man's eyes glass over for a moment and then his wide smile returns. He snaps his fingers at the staff that is nearby enough to notice him. Immediately we are surrounded by waiters and water glasses. The tequila comes in a hand blown bottle that resembles a human skull and is ice cold.
"I'm taking that bottle home when we're done with it." Lou announces as he watches the waiter pour. We all hoist our glasses and take the shot. It is as smooth as can be. "Oh this shit is awesome. I hope you have another skull back there 'cause we are going to need it."

Within fifteen minutes we have ordered some seafood, drank half the skull of tequila, and have watched at least fifty people walk through the door. None of the patrons are locals from the looks of them.
"Where did all of these people come from?" I ask Loco.
"The come off the ferry boat, some come from tourist buses. The place here it jumps for the next couple of hours." He looks at me kind of funny, "You know... jumps?" He does a little dance move in his seat.
"Yeah, I know jumps."
Lou and I ordered some of the local lobster and some shark steak that is marniated and then grilled. Loco wanted some pork dish. Not to exotic, but maybe the man is sick of seafood. I love the shit so I never get tired of it.
The tequila is taking it's toll on us. At first it is a word or two that is slurred. Now we are slurred... completely fucked up. I'm glad we ate something. By the time the next skull arrives, I am flying.

"And that is when I learned that monkeys never fart." Lou looks at me... "Did you hear a word I said?"
"I... I dint... I didn't know you're talking to me."
"A whole fucking story and you didn't even know I was talking to you? Where the fuck is Loco?" Lou turns in his seat and sees that Loco has left his shotgun in his chair. He stands,
"LOCO, WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE... "
I tap him on the arm, "There he is."

Loco has two fine looking woman with him. One of them is a little older than the other, but both extremely beautiful. They are not made up, no make up or anything... just beautiful in their own right.
"Whoa... " Lou sits for a moment, then bolts up and drags me with him. Always the gentleman.
Loco presents the ladies. They are bank tellers at the only bank in Puerto Barrios. He tells us their names, but that goes in one drunk ear and drowns in Muerte Verde. It doesn't matter to me anyway. I won't be taking to them... just staring. I am more worried about being too drunk to screw at this point. But Loco will come to our salvation on that front as well.

There is music playing, good music. There are three skulls on our table, one is up to it's eye sockets in Muerte Verde, the others as empty as a politician's. I am the only one here. Lou... is moving like a wounded leopard on the dance floor. It looks like he is moving every part of his body around with his shoulders. Loco, on the other hand, is jumping around... literally. He has been drinking shot for shot with us. Something is up.

I make my way to the dance floor and cut in on Loco and the younger girl he brought for me. She smiles at the chance to dance with me, but I disappoint her when I grab Loco and pull him off the dance floor. She recover's quick enough and starts to dance with Lou and the older girl.

"Loco, you can understand me, right?" I do remember him speaking English earlier in the evening.
"Barely, Senior, cause you are so shitfaced. You know, shitfaced?"
"I know shiftface... I am shitflace. Why aren't you?"
"Why aren't I what, Senior Jake?"
"Shit Faced."
"It is the coca, Senior Jake."
"Well gimme some, Loco."
"I would be happy to."

Loco goes back over to the dance floor and whispers in the ears of the girls, then says the same thing to Lou, who nods his head. Then Loco walks over to the man that had seated us hours ago and speaks with him, also soliciting a nod. Everyone walks back to the table and Lou pours the girls a shot of Muerte. When they are done, he pours the three of us our shots.
"Salute." He tosses his back, as does Loco. I hold mine for a moment, counting the previous shots in my head.
"You... you know John Bonham died this... this way."
"John Bonham was a pussy."
"The hell he was. Damn good drummer."
"Drink that shot, Nancy, so we can go to the boat and sniff some stuff."
Down goes the shot, up I go and we are walking down to the boat. I have a young lady's arm around me, and when I realize this I straighten up.

The Morgan is dark except for a dim light behind pulled shades. Loco says something in Spanish and then gives the window a special little rap... like two short and two long or something like that. We can hear Blanco say something back.
"Okay" Loco tells us, "It is safe now."
"Safe for what?" Lou asks him.
"Safe to come aboard, or Blanco he cut you balls off."
The girls giggle at this.
"Well hell, Loco, what if one of us were to come back to the boat without knowing the little tap code?"
"I don't know. Blanco cut off you balls I think."
"That's just great."
"You just remember the taps... two short two long. Blanco knows this tap."

We all come aboard Blanco's boat and sit in back until he comes out with a small pouch for each of us. It feels like it is full of chewing tobacco. I open mine and feel inside, pinching and pulling out a leaf.
"What is this, Loco?"
"This is coca... from the plant. It is special, really strong. You chew like tobacco. You chew tobacco?"
"No, but I get the picture."
The five of us chew the coca. It is a little bitter, but because of what it will hold we stay with it. By the time we get up and walk back to the party, we are blazing.
"Thanks Blanco." I nod to him on the way off the boat.
"Yeah, no shit, thanks Whitey." Lou says, "Muchos gracias" he adds.

Back in the restaurant, Loco waves his shotgun in the face of a couple of patrons who took over our table and are drinking our Muerte Verde. They immediately see the reasoning behind the twelve gauge pump and leave. Loco ushers the man with the thin moustache and three piece suit to our table and now empty third skull of Green Death. It is refilled, compliments of the house, and we are back on the floor dancing.

My mouth is numb as I chew the coca and dance to band. These guys are good. The young girl is grabbing me by the waist and holding me close, we move together. Lou is doing some form of the Tango or something. He looks like he knows what he is doing. I think he likes her. But then again I get the feeling Lou falls in love at the drop of a hat.

The music rolls on. The sound of bongos and steel drums, of guitar and marimba. The tourists dance with wild abandon. Tomorrow brings the meeting and a rendezvous with Bear. I get the feeling that this will not be as easy as it sounds. But tonight is tonight... and I am feeling the heat of this young woman's body. I get the feeling tonight will turn into tomorrow long before the music stops.