Mike Smith Is Dead—Pt. 29

The Vice President, his wife, and his college age stepdaughter boarded a yacht in Miami harbor for a short cruise. They brought no baggage, only a change of clothes and swimwear. Their well paid captain set an unregistered heading for Havana, Cuba.

Fifty miles out to sea the women changed clothing and stretched out on the decks to sunbathe. The Vice President and his Secret Service aide stayed below decks to work on certain official papers. A call came in alerting the Vice President was needed in Washington and that a sea plane would come to get him. The captain slowed the yacht and waited for the aircraft. Minutes later the airplane skidded to a stop fifty yards from the yacht. The Vice President with an aide boarded the dingy that was sent from the airplane and headed away from the yacht. The man driving the dingy steered it to the other side of the airplane, pulled a long nose 38cal from his jacket and shot the aide once in the forehead. The Vice President then climbed aboard the aircraft while the man driving the boat deflated the raft, pushed the body overboard and then climbed into the pilot’s seat.

“Took you long enough,” barked the Vice President.

The tall thin man didn’t acknowledge him, just pushed the throttle forward and started the aircraft moving away from the yacht. He aimed a remote out the window, which started a timer.

As the aircraft lifted off the water the timer on the yacht engine suddenly expired and when the captain increased the speed a C4 explosion rocked the boat and sent it and its passengers into a million pieces.

Earlier that morning Mitch and Bonnie were sleeping restlessly in their Reston town home. Finally Bonnie awoke and shook Mitch, “I smell gas.”

“Furnace just kicked on is all. Go back to sleep.”

Bonnie hopped out of bed and headed for the lavatory, out of habit she clicked on the bathroom light. The gas explosion knocked out power and windows in a three block area.

A day later Ivan Sessions took a cab to the home of Juanita Ortiz and was surprised to find she had company.

“Ivan, meet an old friend of mine.”

Sessions interrupted, “We’ve met before. What are you doing here?”

The man lounging by the pool only tipped up his sun visor and nodded. “Ivan, I want to show you something,” he said.

Ortiz took the man’s hand and helped him up before heading out of the courtyard. Sessions followed through the house to the gated side yard where a small cemetery existed.

The man stood to the side. “Those are the graves of my wife and children killed in the massacre. You remember. A retaliation raid against the diplomatic enclosure by Fruit Company people.”

Sweat poured off of Session’s face. He obviously knew what he was looking at; he had been on the raid.

A tall very thin man quietly walked up on them and put a 9mm at the back of Session’s head and fired twice. The other man stepped aside and the tall thin man shot Ortiz twice in the chest and before she fell, once in the forehead.

“I don’t want them in this graveyard, or for my son to know, throw their bodies in the channel for the gators. Another payment has been made in your account, although the woman you shot in Washington still lives.”

“All that hair deflected the shot. The bald guy no problem.”

“That’s an excuse. If she’s not dead in three days I’m withdrawing the contract. And, there’s another woman living in her apartment. A bonus for that one added in. Careful, she was Argentine military.”

“Yeah, I know that one, no bonus needed, it's on me.”

“Just get it done.”

The tall thin man said nothing more, just started dragging Sessions body out to his waiting truck.

---

Later that morning Kip spread his paperwork out on the desk. The cab driver’s business card tumbled out of his folder face up. “Okay.” Kip used his new cell phone to call the driver. “Can you meet me for breakfast here at the hotel. I have a business proposition for you.”

Thirty minutes later the driver and Kip were having coffee in the hotel restaurant.

“I need a trusted driver and assistant. Since my surgery, I can barely feed myself. Anyway, I’ll give you $108 thousand dollars per year to work for me, be a bodyguard, driver, and assistant.”

The big man grinned. “Who am I working for?”

“Just me. Jay, short for Jacques, LeFey. But, you will be paid by my company, LeFey Pedicures. I can have you paid weekly, monthly, or annually. Your choice.”

The big man seemed to watch Kip’s movement. “What happened to you?”

“I was shot.”

“Oh. Do I get a gun?”

Kip laughed. “Do you need one?”

“Depends are people going to shoot at you?”

“I hope not. I was shot for some information I had. The shooter took the information. I hope I have nothing to be shot for any longer. If you want a gun, and the government will let you have one, I don’t care. I mainly need a driver that the police won’t harass and a man that people will think twice about bothering me.”

“Yeah, I can do that. When do I start?”

“When can you leave the cab company?”

The big man ginned and pulled out a cell phone, then hit a speed dial number. “I quit,” he said. “Okay.” He turned to Kip. “Okay, I have to send back the magnetic sign.”

“What shall I call you? Your name on the card is Roberto.”

“The big man laughed. “Call me Roberto.”

Kip chuckled. “Okay, we need a decent car. Don’t trade your car in, just take it home or something. We need a company car, like a Forerunner or something.”

The big man held up a finger. He dialed his phone again. “Jaime, have you got a new Forerunner. Okay, that will do. Deliver it to the Courtyard hotel.” A long pause. The driver looked at Kip. “Cash or credit?”

“Cash. How much.”

The driver looked at his cell phone. “He says, with delivery, fees and all—$26,000 American.”

“Buy it.”

“It’s a Kia Mohave SUV.” The big man clicked off his phone. “Thirty minutes, maybe more.”

“Our other big project today. Is we need to arrange a donation through the Minister of Public Heath. This will accomplish two things. One it will insure my citizenship and two it will provide a needed service in Costa Rica.”

“Okay.”

“Next, I’m going to give you two grand to go out and buy clothes for you. Think business casual, maybe a suit for special occasions. Do you know where you can get big man, like you, clothes like that?”

The driver grinned. “Talla Grande is my choice, but there’s places in the mall too.”

“Good,” Kip handed the driver two $1000 stacks of hundreds. “As soon as the car gets here, you can go shopping.” Kip laughed.

“Oh, the donation you need to find out about is a large donation for Autistic Children Research. Find out who our contact will be and we’ll start making arrangements for the donation.”

“You’re a pretty cool gringo,” he said in English.

“Sometimes,” Kip chuckled.

To be continued...