A Lifetime of Vengeance Read online

  The siren pierced the small talk in maneuvering. "Reactor scram," The reactor operator shouted. The Engineer and the Captain were part of a drill team that had initiated a scram, meaning that they caused all of the reactor control rods to drop, shutting down the reactor. Without immediate action by the crew, the reactor would cool down rapidly, like turning off the burner on a boiling pot of water on the stove. When the flames die, the water stops boiling quickly. The problem with that on a submarine is that you no longer produce the steam to drive the main engines for propulsion or the turbine generators to produce electricity. The real danger though, is a rapidly cooling reactor vessel, the metal container where the reactor fuel is held, cools down too rapidly and could fracture; crack like a hot dish dropped in cold water. That would be cause a catastrophic release of radioactivity.

  Within seconds, the crew of the USS Alabama was set into action. The Engineering Officer of the Watch announced the scram on the 2MC, the engineering loud speaker. Then he called the Officer of the Deck and informed him of the scram. The Officer of the Deck announced the problem to the rest of the crew via the 1MC, the ship wide announcing system.

  Maneuvering was a whirlwind of action. Dell Johnson was whirling the throttles shut at the same time he was cutting out and announcing alarms. The reactor operator, Randy Dillon, was securing reactor coolant pumps and making sure the reactor was really shut down. He was recording all the necessary data on his logs for use in the subsequent start-up. Pat McKinney was no less busy. He was unloading the turbine generators to preserve heat and prevent too rapid a cool-down of the reactor. At the same time, he manned the sound powered phones so he could relay incoming reports from the engineering watch-standers on the condition of plant equipment in their areas of responsibility. The crew in the engineering spaces worked like clockwork to place the reactor in a safe condition and in a few minutes the pace of the action slowed. The noise level in the engineroom was reduced considerably as motors and other equipment were turned off to reduce the electric loads on the only working source of power onboard, the ships battery. That silence was broken when the diesel generator roared to life. Within seconds, Pat McKinney had the electric plant in a stable line-up and the battery discharge rate was slowed to a trickle.

  The drill was all but over. Now the only thing left was to restart the reactor. Captain Galbreth looked at the Engineer and nodded his head. The Engineer in turn looked to the Engineering Officer of the Watch and said, "Mr. Decker, the reactor scram was a drill. You may secure from reactor scram drill and perform a fast recovery start-up."

  Mr. Decker smiled and simply replied, "Aye Aye, Engineer."

  Captain Galbreth looked at Pat McKinney and said, "Not bad, Petty Officer McKinney. Are you sure you won't stay on with us for a few more years? We can sure use you. You'll make chief for sure this year. Those bonus programs are no small potatoes. You could net some pretty good cash."

  "Thanks for the offer, Captain. It sure is tempting to ride around on one of these big, black, steel tubes for years on end, but I think I'll pass. Besides, my real boss says no and I don't want to upset her. She gets awful hard to live with when she doesn't get her way." Pat smiled toward the Captain and then turned back to his panel.

  Captain Galbreth then said, "Petty Officer McKinney, be sure and see me before you leave the ship tomorrow. Carry on.”

  With that, Captain Galbreth left maneuvering. The EOOW announced to the engineering spaces via the 2MC, "commencing a fast recovery startup."

  The Engineer then turned to Pat and said, "Nice job on the plant. You didn't think we were going to let you off without one last scram drill, did you?"

  Chapter 3

  Donnie Lee Lester and Roberto "Bobby" Aquino were drinking at the ABC Liquor Lounge in Plymouth, Florida. They were talking about what success they'd had over the last six years in their partnership. The nursery they owned had nothing to do with the day to day operation of growing, packaging, and selling plants, but it was an excellent front for their real business; importing Columbian marijuana and Peruvian cocaine. Donnie Lee and Bobby, along with their other partner, Jamie Watkins, had built up quite a trade with each partner pulling down over half a million dollars a year for the last three years.

  Donnie Lee was a tall, stocky, southern man, with a drawl that accentuated the fact that he'd lived in rural Florida all his life. It wasn't that he liked living in Florida. He just hadn't been anywhere else. Donnie Lee wasn't particularly bright either. He nearly flunked out of high school and barely received the minimum number of credits to graduate with his class. He'd joined the Army, but was released with a less than honorable discharge for drug abuse. Even that was generous, because he was caught, red-handed, selling cocaine to an undercover Army investigator.

  He was cool under pressure, though. Years ago, when the partners were first getting started in the illegal drug trade, he was driving south on Route 441 towards Orlando in his 1977 Ford LTD. With ten pounds of Columbian grass in the trunk, he was being very cautious. Then he decided to pass a slow-driving elderly woman. He'd been cursing her for the last half mile when he made his move. Just then a white Cadillac ripped along the side of Donnie Lee's LTD and literally rammed it into the ditch along the west side of the road. Neither driver was hurt, but both were shaken up a bit. Apparently, the driver of the Cadillac, a tall, skinny guy in a business suit had more to hide than Donnie Lee. He’d rushed over to see if Donnie was alright. When he got to the LTD, Donnie noticed that the man was very nervous and didn't want to hang around for the Highway Patrol to arrive. The guy handed Donnie Lee five hundred dollars, handed him a business card and assured Donnie that if he called him in a few days he would reward him further . . . if the local police never found out about this incident. Still in a daze, Donnie agreed. With that, the man literally ran back to his damaged Cadillac, got in and drove off just as another car stopped to see what was going on.

  Donnie Lee remained cool under questioning from everyone that stopped. He told the same story about how a drunk kid in a white, beat up Dodge Dart had rammed him, didn't even stop, made an illegal u-turn on 441 and took off without even looking his way to see if he was hurt, dead or whatever. During the incident, Donnie Lee never even glanced toward the trunk of the battered LTD. It remained closed through the entire ordeal and nobody asked him to look inside. Finally, the police report was complete. The officers were off in search of a '67 or '68 white Dodge Dart with a battered right front panel, being driven by a young, long haired, white kid.

  Donnie Lee's car was not in drivable condition so he had it towed to a garage on Washington Street in Ocoee. The garage was owned by Wilbur Lester, Donnie Lee's older brother. It would be an easy matter for Donnie Lee to remove the stashed weed from the trunk while at his brother’s garage.

  That was Donnie Lee Lester's first brush with the law during the illegal activity of transporting drugs for resale. That little accident turned out to be a favorable stroke of luck for the partners. The tall, skinny guy was Jason Roberts. He was very generous to the partnership once the parties understood the nature of each other's businesses. When Donnie Lee called Mr. Roberts after the accident, he invited Donnie Lee to his home for dinner. Donnie Lee wasn’t familiar with the area where Mr. Roberts lived. After driving down Markham Woods Road in Lake Mary towards Sanford for about ten minutes, he came to the entrance of an exclusive subdivision. From the road, you couldn't see a single home. Donnie Lee stopped at the guard house and gave the guard the required information and was allowed to drive on. Another few minutes, after driving past homes that had to be owned by wealthy lawyers, doctors, and business tycoons, Donnie finally came to the address on Wild Cherry Court. He pulled up to the gate at the foot of the driveway and spoke into the intercom. The guard at the other end of the intercom was polite, but serious. He assured Donnie Lee that he was expected and requested some identification. After displaying his driver's license to the camera, the gate opened and Donnie Lee followed the driveway back to the house. When
he saw Mr. Robert’s home, he was awe-struck. It was the largest home he'd ever seen; like something off of the TV shows Dallas or Dynasty.

  Donnie Lee was seated in Mr. Robert’s office, looking from wall to wall, taking in all the expensive woodwork, cabinets, artifacts, and books. Everything was elegant and expensive. Mr. Roberts spoke and broke Donnie Lee’s trance. He explained that he'd done some checking up on him and his partners. He explained to Donnie Lee that he knew they were dealing drugs, what kind of drugs, and how much they were selling. He went on to explain that they were clean as far as investigation by the local police, county sheriff, or local drug task force. "To anyone who cares," he explained, "you guys are just a bunch of average citizens. I’d like for you guys to work for me. I think you’d be a good fit for my organization. I’ll make sure that, if you join with me, you’ll immediately more than double your income.

  Donnie Lee was astonished. He couldn't believe that anyone could dredge up this much accurate information on the partners' activities. If this man could dig up this much information, certainly the police could, too, couldn't they?

  Mr. Roberts continued and explained that it was his business to know who did what in the drug trade in the area. "I am the major supplier of Peruvian Cocaine in central Florida. If anyone else tries to break into the market, they come through me or they're out of business, permanently. Understand?" He was willing to show Donnie Lee and his partners how to really make money; how to launder it; how to keep the law enforcement people off their back; how to keep competition to a minimum. He gave Donnie Lee the details and told him to discuss it with the partners. With that, Donnie Lee thanked Mr. Roberts for his hospitality and left the house, dazzled by what he had just seen and heard.

  After explaining the deal to Jamie and Bobby, he could almost predict their responses. Jamie Watkins, the brash, outspoken red-head, was thrilled with the prospect of making millions of dollars. Bobby was not so pleased. He felt that this was a little bit of a jump for the three. Later, when Jamie left the room, Bobby expressed his fear that this would send Jamie's ego into the stratosphere. He'd be blabbing his hotshot mouth all over town. Donnie Lee assured him that it wouldn't happen. Mr. Roberts would impress upon Jamie that his brazen personality would have to be toned down. "Believe me. Mr. Roberts will take care of Jamie's mouth. We won't have anything to worry about." So a mutually beneficial business arrangement developed.

  Sitting at a table at the ABC Lounge on Route 436 in Apopka Donnie Lee and Bobby toasted Jason Roberts and his bad driving habits. In the few years of their association with Mr. Roberts, they'd gone from small time fifty pounds of pot per week to being major players in the central Florida drug trade. They had to develop security measures, pay for protection from some local law enforcement officials, realign their nursery business as a cover and keep close tabs on who got to know their names and faces. Their homes were small fortresses, nothing as fancy as their mentor's, but nice, fenced-in, and electronically secure homes of between 3500 to 4500 square feet, in exclusive central Florida neighborhoods.

  The partners met for a drink on a pretty regular basis. Donnie Lee, in his faded jeans, denim short-sleeve shirt and cowboy boots was asking Bobby what he did with all his money, besides buying expensive toys like four wheel drive trucks, a new swimming pool, a Jacuzzi, a bar, and a boat. Bobby’s hand went to the bridge of his nose and rubbed the slight knot from where it had been broken as a youngster. He replied that he actually gave a good amount to charitable organizations and the church; all in cash, all anonymously. He wasn’t comfortable talking about his religious beliefs with most people mainly because he was afraid of spending an eternity in hell. He feared that he was heading down that road and his only hope was a bedside confession. It really tugged at his conscience. After what they’d done to Mike’s wife, though he never touched her personally, he hadn’t stopped the brutality either. Donnie Lee frowned but then his frown turned to a smile. He knew that Bobby was religious. He was afraid that one day Bobby’s conscience would get the best of him. Would he turn himself in just to try to relieve the mental anguish caused by his feelings of guilt?

  Roberto Diego "Bobby" Aquino had been raised a Roman Catholic and still attended church, though not every Sunday. Born in Mayaguez, Puerto Rico, his father moved the Aquino family to this rural area north of Orlando when Bobby was three. He had just a very slight touch of his father's accent. At five-feet, nine inches tall, he was the tallest member in his family. His brother was in prison for armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon. His sister was a freshman at the University of South Florida in Tampa. His father worked as a laborer, then foreman, for Zellwood Food Growers Association. He got a job there when he first came to the States, and that's where he planned to retire.

  Bobby also felt guilty about starting the partnership's current business with money stolen from the McKinney’s. Mike McKinney was Bobby’s closest friend. They'd been friends through high school and got along well until things fell apart. Bobby knew that what they did to Mike’s young bride would land him in hell and he prayed every day to be forgiven. He also knew that Mike had been destroyed by their betrayal. Mike sobbed in front of Bobby, "How could you . . . ?” That's all that Mike could choke out before he was consumed by grief. They never spoke again. But Pat and Joe had more to say. Pat had screamed in Bobby's face, "You know, you, Donnie Lee, Jamie, and Randy will pay for this. I don't know when, and you won't see it coming, but you will pay." And with that, Pat and Joe helped Mike McKinney walk away.

  "What are you day-dreaming about?" The question broke Bobby out of his momentary trance.

  He looked at Donnie Lee and asked him, "Do you ever wish that you could turn back the clock, travel back in time and fix what we did? Mike was our friend."

  The words made Donnie Lee shiver. "Look, Bobby, they were our friends, but they weren't perfect either. They were ripping us off or don't you remember that?"

  "Don’t try to pass this off on them! They were our friends, and we betrayed them. Look let's change the subject. This is making me sick. We could've been in business with Mike and done just as well as we're doing now. Plus we wouldn't have Jamie as a partner. We'd be better off without him. Sure, we've got money. We've got money because we suckered someone who trusted us. We're rich but I have a hard time looking myself in the mirror at times."

  "With that mug, I'd have a rough time lookin' in the mirror, too!" Jamie Watkins always liked to make a grand entrance. His Texas accent coupled with a back-country Florida drawl, mixed with a plug of chewing tobacco, resulted in a conglomeration of barely discernable growls. "Is our Bobby feelin' sorry for hisself again? He must be worried 'bout ole Mikey McKenzie and his brothers . . . or whatever their names’ was. Look, Bobby, forget those jerks. They got the rash and we got the cash." Jamie's smile was broad and he was having a grand time poking fun at Bobby. He knew how to get Bobby's goat almost instantly. Donnie Lee could see Bobby's face redden and figured he'd better step in before the two got into a knuckle-buster right there in the bar.

  He got off his stool at the bar and said calmly, "Cool it, Jamie." He stepped between the two and told Jamie he'd buy him a drink.

  "Lay it on me, brutha!" Jamie exclaimed and Donnie Lee ordered a round of whiskey and waters. This kept Jamie quiet for almost one minute. Jamie started bragging about his new four-wheel-drive truck and how he'd gone to the clay pits to try it out. He described the hills and valleys that his new toy conquered and how it could do almost anything. The other partners were not impressed. They knew Jamie's habit of stretching the truth. When he finished bragging about his new truck, he spotted a couple of young women sitting at a table by themselves. Jamie turned to his partners and said, "See you boys later; its party time."

  Before Jamie left the bar, Donnie Lee reminded him that there was a business meeting in the morning at 9:30 at the nursery.

  "I'll be there. Don't worry about me."

  "Donnie Lee grabbed him by the arm just as Jamie turned to walk away and w
ith a serious look said, "Jamie, I'm not kidding with you. This meeting is important. We got some serious business to take care of."

  "Alright already. I hear you." With an annoyed expression, Jamie left the bar to chase skirts.

  Bobby looked at Jamie as he left and shook his head in disgust. He made it clear that he didn't like Jamie. He didn't like his loud, obnoxious mouth; he didn't like his rude manner; he didn't like the way he conducted his deals for the partnership. He and Jamie were opposites but they certainly didn't attract.

  Bobby turned to Donnie Lee and asked, "Why don't we dump Jamie? He's gonna get us busted with his big mouth. The last thing we need is him telling all these chicks our business."

  Donnie Lee knew that Bobby was right. He said, “Bobby, you and I both know that most of what Jamie says is bullshit. Those babes wouldn't know where the bullshit starts or ends." Even as the words left his mouth he knew that Jamie was becoming a liability. He was running his mouth too much to too many people. Maybe he'd talk to Mr. Roberts about it after the meeting tomorrow. For right now, it could wait.

  Chapter 4

  It was 9:30 PM when Karen Grimes heard the front door of the apartment shut. She was already furious and ready for a battle. Her normally tanned and smooth complexion on her face was beat-red with anger. It had been a particularly long day at work, and so far, since she'd arrived home, things hadn’t changed. Nothing was going right. She'd prepared a fabulous dinner for her husband, Bill, and he didn't show up to share it. It used to bother her when Bill would be late or not call. She would always imagine the worst; a fight or an accident. Now she knew that it was just Bill. He was always scheming. He always had a plan to get rich. Those plans always involved robbery, drugs, or both.