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We had uncovered the fact that the leader was a semi-notorious mobster out of Philadelphia. He was the silent leader. Getting the inside scoop of the workings of this group had been extremely complicated.
We had tracked the activity to a couple of well-paid longshoremen working out of the Port of Baltimore.
A beer exporter out of Belgium had created unique brand name ale that was imported with the rest of the legitimate ale and pilsners produced there and shipped to the U.S. The brand that was not legitimate was called ‘Augustus Ale.’ It was liquid cocaine.
Slate and I had been working on our covers for weeks. The bust was to go down in a couple of weeks. According to the manifest, the shipment was to arrive on the 28th.
The dock loaders were staying over their normal shift to unload the cargo during the late night hours. That was when we would make the bust. It was to be transported by a commercial truck to Philadelphia before 6:00 a.m. Agent Hatfield had already been working undercover with the longshoremen for about three months. The shipments were like clockwork.
This bust stood to net about $6.5 million dollars’ worth of illegal contraband. I was stoked.
Our meeting went well with Laraby. He was on board with the plan. We went over the layout of the dock areas and entire waterfront region. We had our cover assignments and post areas cleared.
There would be a host of undercover assistance if back-up was needed. Intel told us these guys were fully armed and had an arsenal at their disposal. That included the thugs driving the semi-truck that always parked at the end of the pier.
The trailer was never completely empty. There were armed personnel stowed back there as well with the ability to observe anything going on in the vicinity.
On our way back to Falls Church, Slate’s phone chimed.
“Hey, babe,” he said all smooth and sweet. “How’s it going?”
It was quiet for a couple of minutes as Sammie was evidently filling him in on how it was going.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said.
Evidently, things are not going to his liking.
“Yeah, yeah. I understand, baby. I miss you, too. He is fine. Lindsey is spoiling him rotten. No, I’m in the car right now. Taz and I had a meeting today in Germantown on a project. Okay, babe. I’ll call you later tonight, how’s that? I will give him a kiss for you. I love you too, baby.”
Christ! If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears I would not have believed that shit was coming out of Slate’s mouth. God damn, he used to get some tail.
“Everything okay, babe?”
“Shut the fuck up, Taz. One of these days, you should be so fucking lucky.”
I laughed good-naturedly. I was actually happy for Slate. He was my best friend.
I would say he was like the brother I never had except I did have a brother. I had a sister, too. I just wasn’t tight with them anymore. They were different people than me.
“Hey,” he said, interrupting my thoughts, “do you have plans for tonight?”
“Not a thing, man. Want to hit some dives?”
He looked over at me rolling his eyes.
“Not exactly, Taz. Lindsey told me this morning she was making home-made lasagna. Just thought you might want to have something decent to eat for a change. Plus, I could use a little male bonding, you know? Besides that, the Knicks are on tonight.”
The thought of eating a home-cooked meal appealed to me. The thought of kicking back with some cold ones and watching the Knicks was even more appealing. The idea of seeing Lindsey and that sweet, sexy body of hers drove me to fucking distraction.
“I’m in.”
CHAPTER 18
I pulled the lasagna out of the oven and set it on top of the stove. I shoved the tray of sliced garlic bread into the oven and set the timer. The salad was made so everything was good to go if Slate made it home when he said he would.
I looked over at Bryce in his high chair. I had fed him earlier. He had been snacking on graham crackers while I had tossed the salad and set the table. He now had soggy pieces of cracker smeared on his face.
“Look at you,” I said to him. “You’re never going to impress the girls with that face."
