Life in the cartel — Part 5

Photo by Austin Schmid on Unsplash

*Previously, My Summer Vacation*

Three days later after a lot of shouting on the phone between Special Agent John O’Conner, my dispatcher, the shipper, the consignee, and myself we were back on the road free and clear. The fact that O’Conner had demanded the trailer to be unloaded and all the refrigerators unboxed and searched did not go well with the shipper and the consignee. You see, not only was the load delayed but the consignee was a huge Amazon seller whose retail customers expect to receive new, unopened packages when they shell out hundreds of dollars for a new ‘fridge. Thus our destination was changed to a freight liquidator located very close to where we had begun our trip and the FBI was on the hook to pay thousands of dollars in losses.

Neither the shipper nor the consignee had any knowledge of what was hidden beneath the false floor — they just wanted to sell refrigerators instead of losing sales because retail customers demand on time deliveries. There was also the issue of paying Jessica, myself, and our employer for our lost time and expenses at the rates our employer demanded. Everything was quickly settled when the company attorney made a call to O’Conner’s boss threatening to sue the FBI. Jessica and I laughed until we could laugh no more then headed on our way.

We were about half way between San Antonio and Laredo watching the moon shining on the mesquite trees when my phone rang. “Hello,” I answered.

“I want you to pull off at the next exit,” I heard Tommy say. “Then turn right and drive slow until you find a safe place to pull over.”

“Sure,” I answered. “Where are you?”

“Maybe five miles behind you,” Tommy answered.

“Is everything okay?” I asked concerned there might be problems.

“No problems,” Tommy said before hanging up the phone. “I’ll explain when I get there.”

“What is it?” Jessica asked. Like myself, unexpected calls always made her nervous. A few minutes later I saw the exit, turned on my right turn signal and slowed as I pulled off the highway. A couple of miles later I found room enough to get safely off the highway.

A few more minutes and three black SUVs pulled up behind us. I watched in the mirrors as Tommy walked up on the driver’s side and the rest walked up on the passenger side. “What’s up?” I asked as Tommy walked up to my door.

“We’re just grabbing something before this trailer gets hauled back to Mexico,” Tommy answered.

I glanced into the right mirror where the others were sliding a small hidden drawer out the side of the trailer using what looked like several big horseshoe magnets. “Are those magnets?” I asked.

“Yea,” Tommy laughed. “It’s a magnetic lock. Put the magnets in the right place and the lock opens. A lot cheaper than cutting motorcycles in half.”

“Pretty smart,” I grinned. “I don’t want to know where the right places are.”

“Even I don’t know,” Tommy grinned. “The less the better. Are you two okay?”

“Jessica misses the Grom,” I answered.

“You’ll be in a new truck in a few weeks,” Tommy replied. “With a new Grom hanging on the back of the cab. There’s a place you can turn around just a couple more miles up the road. We need to get before someone spots us. Later.”

“Later,” Jessica waved as Tommy quickly walked back to his car.

As Tommy and the rest turned around and sped away I eased the truck into gear, slowly released the clutch, and pulled back onto the road skipping gears, and gently bringing the rig up to speed. A couple more miles down the road we found a convenience store with room for three or four trucks, gas pumps, and a diesel island off to the side. As I pulled up to the pump Jessica asked, “How do they know all this, where we are, and where we can turn around?”

“Trackers and Google maps,” I explained.

“So why do you make me spend so much time planning routes on maps and truck stop guides?” she asked.

“So you’ll know how should you ever need to,” I answered. “There’s nothing worse than looking at the end of a tiny dead end road with no place to turn around.”

After fueling the truck we pulled around the back and shut down for the rest of the night listening to a coyote howling in the distance amidst the mesquite, scrub brush, and the occasional Mexican-Olive tree. We would have plenty of time in the morning to make our way to Laredo.

*Continued in Life in the cartel — Part 6*