Raymond James Stadium on a bright Sunday afternoon is a beautiful sight. The St. Louis Rams, winners of Super Bowl XXX111, were in town and the atmosphere was electric. Kurt Warner and Marshall Faulk would meet Derrick Brooks and Warren Sapp. It was a ticket scalpers dream.
Tailgaters had begun arriving at 10:00 AM. Kickoff was at 4:15. It was the network game of the day. Dave and Mary arrived at 3:00 and the party was in full swing. Cannons were booming from the Pirate Ship in the north end zone, hamburgers and brats were cooking and beer was being consumed.
Security was tight and their names were checked against a guest list provided by Bill Martin. Dave was glad that Fred had talked him out of bringing the wine. There was no way he could have gotten a case of wine into the stadium.
Mary and Dave found the elevators that took them to the private boxes. Bill’s box was on the 4th level. Ginny greeted us warmly. “Dave, Mary, we are so happy you could make it. I love that outfit Mary. You will have to tell me where you bought it. Come in and let me introduce you to some friends.”
Before she could get started, Fred came over and grabbed Dave’s shoulder. “Come over here, Dave. I was just telling someone about you. Joe, this is the moneyman, Dave Bradford. Dave, this is a good friend of mine, Joe Fredericks. He is married to that good looking woman over there, Alice.”
“Joe, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My fiancée’, Mary, is the lady with Ginny. We were wondering why our ears were burning as we came up the elevator. Was Fred saying anything nice about me?”
“We were actually talking a little business which is supposed to be a no-no at these games, but sometimes a casual setting is a perfect place to get something going. Fred was telling me that you are getting him the money to buy Oyster Bay. Is that true?”
“It’s a little too soon to say for sure, but it looks good. Fred’s experience with the Shells restaurants will sell the deal. Two lenders got back to me yesterday with LOI’s; letters of interest.”
“That’s great news,” Fred interrupted “Did they give you any terms?”
“Keep in mind that this isn’t a commitment. Having said that, they close over 90% of the deals once they issue a Letter of Interest. They are offering an 80% loan at 7.5%, fixed for five years. That’s better than we hoped.”
Fred was obviously pleased, but before he could answer, Bill came over with Mario and a couple friends. The conversation turned to football.
Bill had set up two betting pools. One was a $500 per square where the numbers are drawn after all the squares had been purchased. It was the typical office pool and was pure chance. Dave donated $20 and wrote his name in four squares. This pool paid out $50 at halftime and at the end of the game. He saw that Mary had also entered.
The other pool cost a flat $100. Pick the winner of the game and the point difference; winner takes all. Dave barely had enough money but entered anyway. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. He assumed most others would choose the Bucs, so he picked the Rams to win by one point. Sentimentality had its place, but not where money was concerned.
Mary returned with a glass of wine in her hand and a beer for Dave. “Come over here, Dave, there are some people I want you to meet.” The next 30 minutes were spent mingling and meeting new people. The names became a jumble. The buffet was splendid. Appetizers included spinach dip, cold shrimp, crab claws and raw oysters on the half shell for appetizers. The big food would be served buffet style at halftime. The game was about to start so Mary and Dave made a plate of food and found a couple seats to watch the game.
Raymond James Stadium held 65,000 and was a sea of pewter and red. The 103’ Pirate Ship in the north end zone was a magnificent symbol and trademark for the Buccaneer franchise. It was a fantastic setting for a football game.
The Rams jumped out to a quick 7-0 lead with a 22-yard TD pass from Warner to Smith. The Bucs came right back but settled for a 45-yard field goal by Gramatica. Watching him celebrate after a made field goal was worth the price of admission.
Dave got up to get another beer and ran into Fred and his friend, Mike Sawyer. Mike was telling Fred about a Rome to Athens cruise he and his wife took in May. Mary wanted to go to Italy in the worst way, but something always came up. “Rome has the coliseum and the like,” Mike was saying, “but Istanbul is the most fascinating city I have ever seen. The history of the city is unparalleled. It sits on the West bank of the Bosphorus River that divides Europe and Asia, and is the key to controlling that part of the world. Warlords from Genghis Khan to the Romans have controlled it. That’s what makes Istanbul’s architecture and history so interesting.” Dave made a mental note for future reference.
The score was 14-6 Rams, at halftime. Apparently Marshal Faulk had scored again on a 2-yard run. Dave missed the play, but heard the roar and caught the replay. He grabbed another beer and joined Mary in the buffet line.
Bill announced that his wife Ginny had the lucky square (Rams 4 & Bucs 6) and won the $50 payoff for the first half betting pool. There was some applause but mostly good-natured boos and shouts of “fix.” Dave told Mary that he didn’t care; he was going to win the $100 pool.
“No you’re not, I am,” Mary replied.
“Where did you get the $100?” Dave was surprised because Mary is usually conservative with money.
“Ginny loaned it to me. I wasn’t going to enter until we noticed you digging into your wallet. I don’t remember you checking with me.”
Go Girl!
Fred’s buffet was delicious. It was all off the Shells menu but with a few special touches. Entrees featured Shells’ specialty, “lobster pasta”, laced with rock lobster indigenous to the Gulf of Mexico. Four choices of fish were offered; grouper filets, farm raised catfish, South American sea bass and ahi tuna that had barely been seared. Desserts were light, but interesting.
Jeff had brought his head chef, Milroy, to serve the food and describe the various dishes. He provided insights into each serving; why farm raised oysters can be eaten year around rather than only in the “R months”; why grouper caught in over 40 feet of water is superior; the difference between Florida sea bass and European sea bass which cost five times as much. Chef Milroy and Fred had a story for each dish. The women couldn’t hear enough and speaking for most of the men, we couldn’t eat enough.
They never sat down in the 2nd half. Other than a few die-hard Bucs fans, everyone just mingled and kept tract of the score on the two closed circuit TVs that piped in the game without commercials. Without replays, Dave and Mary would have missed half the good plays and touchdowns.
The game was a good one, but it was almost like watching at home. The enclosed booth made it different than watching a live game. It’s like watching a horse race from the clubhouse and looking at the monitor or going to a track when there is no live racing, only simulcast. You can see better, but it’s not the same as standing at the pole and hearing the thunder of hoofs approach as the horses come down the stretch.
Bradford met a bunch of celebrities that stopped in to say hi to Bill and Ginny and some of the other regulars. Dave had not been aware that Bill was so involved in politics. The list was a who’s-who in Florida politics; U.S. Senator Joe Graham, the mayor, a couple state senators, assistant District Attorney Joe Martinez and several others. Joe Martinez and Bill were old college friends from Miami.
“Dave, you watch this guy,” Mario said; “Martinez is a real up-and-comer in State politics. I knew him in Miami and he has a lot of friends and contacts.”
Mario and Dave chatted for quite awhile. Mario appeared to be involved in a number of investments and projects in South Florida, Mexico and the Caribbean in addition to his partnership with Fred. Dave still couldn’t get a handle on where Mario got the money for his investments.
“Do you finance projects outside the United States, Dave?”
“Not very often, Mario (actually, he had never done any). The basics are the same, but the lenders are different. Most of the groups I deal with do not have the resources to chase bad de
bt in a foreign country if the deal goes bad. Do you have something in mind? I would be happy to look into it for you.”
Mario nodded and said he would keep that in mind. It was just party talk, Dave thought. Nothing would come of it.
Later, Joe Fredericks and Dave talked a few minutes about his hotel company in Daytona Beach. Joe promised to call next week to discuss an opportunity. This might turn into something, Dave thought.
The score was the Bucs 30, Rams 28 with 65 seconds to go. Everyone started to pay attention. The Rams had the ball on their 25-yard line, but with no timeouts. This was enough time for the Rams high-powered offense.
An equal amount of attention was given to the betting pools. Joe would win the $50 “square pool” if the score stayed the same. A Ram field goal would make Judy a winner and a Ram touchdown would make Mike Sawyer the winner. It was fun.
The big pool had 15 entries and would pay $1,500. Dave was one of three people with a good chance to win. A field goal would make the Rams a one-point winner, which was exactly what Dave had picked. Mary and Joe were also in the running. She had picked the Bucs to win by 3. Joe had picked the Bucs to win by one point. They would split the winnings if there was no more scoring because nobody had picked the Bucs by 2. Mario had the Rams by six, which would be a winner only if the Rams scored a touchdown.
With only 65 seconds remaining, Mario’s chances did not look good since a field goal was all the Rams needed. This changed on the next play when Isaac Bruce took a short pass down over the middle, and angled towards the sidelines. Mario was ecstatic. He jumped up and was yelling “come-on, run you bastard.”
Ronde Barber came out of nowhere and ran him out of bounds at the Bucs 15. Bruce was faster, but Ronde had the angle. Mario still had hope, but was obviously mad at Bruce for not scoring. The rest of us didn’t say anything. Dave, of course, was happy because a Ram field goal would be worth $1,500.
Tampa Bay had all three timeouts left and used two of them as Faulk ran twice for five yards. The Bucs would get the ball back if they stopped the Rams on third down and forced a field goal. Tampa Bay would have about 50 seconds to come back for a winning field goal.
Mario settled down, was apparently resigned to the inevitable field goal. This changed when Warner faked giving the ball to Faulk, and bootlegged around the left side, catching Tampa by surprise. He almost made it into the end zone. Mario was screaming again when Derrick Brooks pulled down Warner at the one-yard line. Mario still had a chance. It was first and goal on the one with time for two or three more plays. Tampa was out of timeouts.
Mario was up and screaming when the Rams came to the line. He was becoming a spectacle. It got worse when Warner took the snap from center, stepped back and took a knee. They were going to run the clock down and kick the easy field goal on the last play. Mario was cursing out Tony Dungy, the Bucs’ coach.
Sixty-five thousand fans were silent, expecting the Bucs to lose. Mario was making a fool of himself because he would not win the $1,500 pool.
“Mario, what do you care?” Bill chided. “You have more money than God.”
“Stuff it, Bill. You know I hate losing at anything.”
With five seconds left, the Rams lined up for the winning field goal. Nobody misses a 21-yard, do they? The snap was good, the hold was good, the kick was on its way until a large hand came out of the mass of humanity and slapped the ball. It hit the right upright and deflected wide.”
BUCS WIN!
The crowd went crazy. Warren Sapp was racing around claiming credit for the blocked field goal although replays showed that it was Brooks that got a hand on it. Dave cheered, but really wasn’t that happy. He could have used the $1,500 to cover losses at the greyhound track he had accumulated over the last two months.
Mary had won $750. People were ribbing Dave and congratulating her. Everyone, but Dave, laughed when she repaid Ginny her $100 loan, smiled at him, and put the other $650 into her blouse. It was obvious that she wasn’t sharing.
The party broke up soon after. Despite the disappointment, it had been a great afternoon.
Down two after six holes; this was not the start Bradford had hoped for. He needed to stay focused. Ken had drilled into him the importance of playing in the moment; one shot at a time. “How many times do you see a player lose it after a bad hole?” Too often! You can’t do anything about your last shot or the last hole. So don’t worry about it, just concentrate on the task in hand. Now was the time to see if Dave had learned anything from Ken other than how to swing the club. It was time to be mentally strong.
The Par 4 Seventh hole was relatively straightforward. Bunkers protected the fairway about 240 to 260 yards from the tee. The rough was long. A large sand trap protected the right front of a small green that sloped front to back.
Buzz tried to drive past the bunkers and ended up pushing the ball right, into the heavy rough to the right of the bunker. Unless he caught a great lie, it would be difficult to hit the green from that angle.
Dave decided on 3-wood. Par would likely win the hole and a 3-wood took the bunkers out of play. Dave’s drive split the fairway leaving him a 2nd shot of about 180 yards to the center of the green. He hit his four-iron a little thin, but got lucky when it rolled past the sand trap to the center of the green. Hitting the ball thin had been an accident, but worked out well because he had played safe and aimed at the left side of the green just in case. He was making good decisions.
Buzz’ lie was okay, but not great. Dave could see the top of the ball but the grass was thick. Buzz had only 150 yards to clear the bunker and 165 to the middle of the green, but it would be hard to stop the ball out of the rough. His 7-iron looked good, but was too good. He caught a flyer. The ball landed pin high and rolled through the green and down the slope. Buzz would have a tough up and down for par.
Romano Montoya was livid when he received Mario’s call on his private line. He sensed immediately that he had a major problem. It wasn’t the lost heroin shipment. That was just money. Profit margins in this business were large enough to allow for mistakes. The problem was the uncertainty of who and why. Romano’s gut instinct told him this was not an isolated event.
He carefully considered his next move. A bad decision could mean his downfall. The stakes were high, but there was no room for error in this business. He had learned that early that failure was not a viable option.
Romano had learned the drug trade from the best, spending 15 years with the CALI cocaine cartel in Mexico. For five years he was part of a small “enforcement group” designed to protect the assets of the organization. This meant protecting the poppy fields, processing plants and shipments from anyone and everyone; other drug gangs, petty thieves and even government agencies. While not as well known as the Columbian enforcers, Romano’s organization was just as ruthless.
Romano was 19 years old and with the group for only six months when a processing plant had been hit and two kilograms of cocaine “paste” was stolen. After processing, the wholesale value would be more than $5 Million dollars. Unfortunately for the thieves, they had only killed three of the four guards. The 4th guard had been sleeping in a shed, but woke and watched as the raw cocaine was loaded onto two large trucks. Four men jumped into an old Ford jeep and the small convoy headed south towards Vera Cruz. The guard radioed ahead to alert his friends.
Within an hour, Romano and 19 others were waiting in ambush. Each was armed with Russian made AK-47 machine guns, a side arm and a jungle knife. The team also had grenades and two hand-held mortar launchers.
The first mortar round disabled the jeep as it slowed to come around a sharp bend, severely wounding three of the passengers. The fourth man was tried to reach the safety of the jungle but didn’t make it. Six gunmen jumped from the back of the second truck with automatic guns blazing indiscriminately into the jungle at their unseen enemy, but were shredded by fire from the jungle on both sides of the road. Four were killed before the other two dropped their rifles and raised their ar
ms and pleaded for mercy. They were dead in seconds.
The two trucks carrying the “paste” had nowhere to go on the narrow dirt road. The guard on the first truck opened fire and was immediately mowed down by at least 30 bullets. The first driver was badly wounded. The driver and guard in the 2nd truck threw down their weapons and surrendered.
What happened next left a lasting impression on Romano, and the prisoners. The dead were searched for identification papers and valuables, and then thrown in a pile on the side of the road. The wounded driver had been shot in the chest and was spitting blood and moaning for a doctor. He was thrown on top the dead bodies and shot through the mouth. “That will shut him up,” the shooter proclaimed.
Unfortunately, one of Romano’s team had been shot in the knee and was in considerable pain. It looked like the kneecap had been shattered. This put their captain, a 28-year-old man named Garcia, in a bad mood. The other wounded prisoners were added to the pile. Two were still alive.
“Torch them,” Garcia ordered and watched as men poured gasoline on the pile of bodies and then lit the fire. To this day, Romano sometimes could smell the stench and hear the screams of the dying men.
The four live prisoners were taken back to a warehouse our cartel owned. Two of the Cartel bosses were waiting. “Find out who sent them, and then get rid of them. Send a message.”
The gang was part of a small group that had been trying to carve out a piece of the lucrative drug trade. The leaders were three brothers living in a small farm near Vera Cruz. Garcia took twenty men including Romano to make sure the brothers didn’t bother them again.
Romano learned several lessons from this experience and many others during his five years in enforcement. He was not as sadistic as Garcia, but he recognized the importance of strength and fear. This was not a business for the weak. When required, Romano did what was necessary. It was good business.
Buzz was at the bottom of the hill 30 yards behind the green. The green sloped toward him. Predictably his lob wedge came up 12 feet short.
While he was complaining that the shot should have run more, Dave lined up his 25-foot birdie putt. He knew Buzz should have used a pitching wedge or nine-iron. He had made a careless, mental mistake. It was the first time that Dave felt he could win the match.
Dave’s 25-foot putt stopped two feet short of the hole and he tapped in for par. Buzz missed his par putt and his lead was cut to one. He was on his way back.
Romano spent the next 10 years rapidly moving up in the organization. He succeeded at every level and was known for his planning and attention to detail. He spent two years overseeing the growing and harvesting of the cocoa bush leaves. The cocoa bush leaves are harvested manually; up to eight times a year. Only mature leaves are picked each harvest, making the operation extremely labor intensive.
Romano was promoted to hauler, and in three years, he never lost a shipment crossing the US-Mexican Border. The average loss was 20%. Trucks with false bottoms were the standard method of smuggling into the U.S., but this was becoming more risky as U.S. customs agents caught on. Romano developed alternative transportation methods including the construction of tunnels under the Rio Grande that went undetected for two years. This earned Romano respect from the CALI Family, and from their U.S. distributors.
9/11 gave Romano his opportunity. As a reaction to the terrorist threat, border security was dramatically increased. Three drug shipments from other haulers were intercepted in a period of four months. Romano’s record was still perfect, but it was getting too risky. They needed to find an alternative method of getting the drugs into the States.
The cartel also began harvesting a new product, opium, and it’s conversion to heroin. Mexico and Columbia have recently joined Asia and The Golden Triangle (Burma, Laos and Thailand), as major growers of the opium poppy plant, the source of heroin. Heroin is more addictive and profitable than cocaine. Addicts require daily dosages. It is also less bulky than cocaine or marijuana, making it easier transport.
The Caribbean route was reestablished. Shipments went from Mexico to one of several islands and then by boat or plane into the United States. Romano was put in charge. He took it one step farther and established Mario in Miami to coordinate receipt of the shipments and to coordinate distribution to the Eastern United States.
Mario received 80% pure heroin from Romano, known on the street as Mexican Black Tar Heroin #4. His first step was to dilute the product to 70% by adding powdered milk, baking soda and quinine. This increased the weight, and profit, by 14% He sold the 70% pure heroin to major distributors along the Eastern Coast for $100,000 per kilogram. Mario’s typical shipment was between 250 KG with a wholesale value of $25M. Mario’s “cut” was 15%. In a multi-billion dollar industry, the financial rewards are significant.
Romano’s thoughts returned to the present and he dialed the private number of Carlos, his top associate in Latin America. There could be a leak in Mario’s organization. He needed someone he could trust. Romano quickly brought Carlos up to date. “Have someone call Sam and make absolutely sure the boat was clean. Then find out who knew about the location of the drop, and when they knew it. Call me tonight.” He repeated the pay phone number that Sam had called from and hung up without a goodbye.
Romano then made a call to his man in Costa Rica. “Find out who handled the shipment on your end and get back to me.” Romano had set things in motion. All he could do was wait.
Chapter 8
Par 3 – 210 yards
Taste of Success