The Rum Runner by Dannal Newman

Author:Dannal Newman [dannal]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-10-26T01:25:39+00:00

“You almost got us found out, Tiny,” Zann protested, as he and the others watched the police boat motor away from the catamaran. The rented yacht rested at anchor with the stern facing a sumptuous palm tree-lined beach hemmed in by protective rock jetties.

Standing on the rear deck of the catamaran, Momo felt as though he was witnessing a living postcard: behind the wide span of white sand, restaurants and shops clamored with sunburned tourists clad in bright tropical shirts and dresses; blue chaise lounges lined the sand outside of a boisterous beach bar; and the distant sound of a local island band’s combined steel drums, horns, and guitar reached Momo’s ears, giving him a profound and unexpected sense of relaxation. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the aromatic smoke of flame-grilled, exotically-spiced meats that drifted into his nostrils like a thin fog of tempting island witch doctor medicine.

The boat’s anchorage was near Les Trois Ilets, Martinique; at least that’s where the boat’s GPS told Momo they were located. The Customs officers had approached lightning fast, before Momo even knew they were coming, in their swift Zodiac speedboat.

Zann had stood by the entire time, ready to discreetly cut a length of rope tied between the catamaran’s bow rail and a dry bag filled with guns and ammunition the gang members had brought to the island for their important task. The bag also contained heavy barbell weights; Momo had figured they could cut the bag loose at any sign of an inspection. The loose bag would settle to the shallow bottom of the harbor and go undetected by Customs; they could always retrieve their weapons later. But being caught with unregistered Uzis, Glocks, and Berettas would likely get them locked up in an island jail for a very, very long time.

But the Customs men had seemed much more interested in paperwork and checking passports, than in invading their space or taking up too much of their time. Momo was thankful. The last thing he wanted was to get into it with the police. Besides, all of the papers and passports the fellas had brought were all aboveboard.

“I just wanted them to think we ain’t got nothing to hide,” Tiny Deege said, opening the fridge and rifling through looking for another bottle of Champagne.

“By asking them if they wanna look around,” Zann said. “What the hell is that?”

“Where’s the Champagne?” Tiny Deege complained.

“Ain’t no more cold ones,” Reggie said, munching on some pretzel sticks and mashing buttons on his Xbox 360 controller.

“Didn’t you think to maybe put a few mo’ bottles in the fridge when you noticed we was out?” Tiny Deege fumed as he dug into one of the galley’s cupboards, finding an unopened case of Veuve Clicquot. “Gettin’ low on bubbly now too.”

“You worried ’bout the bubbly when you practically begged those cops to find our contraband,” Zann said, angrily. “Why’nt you just say, ‘Come on in! Come in and look for some o’ the stuff we got hidden.

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