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“No, but the owners of the boat itself could be.” He walked closer, placing a file down in front of me. One thing I could count on with my deputy was a thorough investigation before providing me with whatever he’d found.
As I opened the file, the photograph of the smaller commercial liner indicated it was fairly new and likely catering to more of the rich and famous than a typical cruise liner, which often housed three thousand people for a seafaring adventure. While our main port couldn’t handle a ship that large, Sitka had accommodated mid-size range ships for years, the marina renovated almost a decade before one of the best decisions the then-mayor had made.
“What am I looking at here?” I asked as I flipped through the pages.
“Take a look at the owner of the boat on page three. I should say the corporation who owns it.”
I shifted to the page as he leaned over my desk.
“Okay. The Santos family out of LA. So what? Who are they?” The name sounded familiar.
“Currently the family consists of two brothers and along with other members of their extended family, they own four cruise ships as well as a movie production company, a music studio, and several other fashionable businesses. They also have a controlling interest in a highly respected law firm who represents various movie and rock stars. They’re wealthy, extremely well connected, and at least one of them is considered the most eligible bachelor this side of the Mississippi.”
Why was the man grinning? “Okay, by all appearances they are model citizens. What aren’t you telling me?”
“Flip to the last few pages. I took the liberty of spending some time on the internet, finding a few articles that will definitely interest you.”
I took a deep breath before turning the pages all over again, finally reaching an article. After skimming it, a bad feeling washed through me. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my anxiety in check. My instincts were never wrong. “Mafia?”
“Yep. They’ve been investigated through the years but almost never charged for anything. The patriarch died mysteriously, some say by the hand of one of his two sons. There was something odd there, but I could find anything concrete. What is clear is that they are very powerful including in the diamond trade industry and guess where they get most of their shipments?”
“I’m game. Where?”
“South America and I have a feeling they’re using Alaska to distribute some of the diamonds.”
I rubbed my lips, a slight chill coursing through me. “You’ve been busy.”
“I thought it was important to learn everything I could.”
“Remind me to give you a raise. Now, what does this information have to do with trafficking fentanyl?”
“Well, as you know, the number one producer is China and up until recently, Mexico had a heavy hand in trafficking it across the border.”
I could see where he was going with this. “So you’re suggesting folks in South America are picking up the slack given the fact the DEA had seriously cracked down on the cartels attempting to bring it into the United States.”
He nodded, obviously pleased with himself. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. I know it might be stretching the believability factor somewhat, but you have to admit that it sounds plausible.”
“Except why come into Alaska?” The diamonds could be a very good ploy, which would allow them to come in under the radar. Still, I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. Accusing anyone of their stature and connections wouldn’t bode well for anyone, or for my career.
“Well, for one thing, it’s an excellent gateway into Canada and other countries, easily bypassing some of our more difficult methods of getting it out of the country.”
His trail was a damn good one. “So you’re suggesting this cruise ship is being used to bring it in without the typical difficulties.”
“Exactly. It’s worth a look.”
“Agreed. What time is it rolling in tomorrow?”
“Two in the afternoon.”
“We’ll make plans on being there. I’ll need a warrant as I doubt they’ll allow us to waltz onto the ship without one.”
Damon grinned. “Already on it. I’ve contacted the judge. He’s expecting your call.”
“Good work. Keep digging on Desposito’s background and his connections. I want to know everything I can about the man and his trip to South America.”
“You got it, boss. Oh, incidentally, there’ve been two more calls from reporters trying to get a statement. They know something occurred at that mansion. That includes your good friend Brandy Martin.”
I glared at him. Brandy and I had sparred since my arrival, her snooty attitude an immediate turnoff. Unfortunately, almost everyone in Sitka thought her the darling of television sets.
