The Beach Dealers

The Beach Dealers

By R. Richard ©

Published by R. Richard at Smashwords

Copyright 2023 R. Richard

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The Beach Dealers

By R. Richard ©

Chapter 1: Genesis

If you're going to understand what happens, you have to first understand a few facts about me.

My name is Jim Holt. I appear to be an average sized individual. (Actually five feet ten and one half inches and a smidge over 190 pounds.)

I play Kung Fu and I work out day by day.

I’m inhumanly strong for a man my size and I can use the strength, because of my workouts and my Kung Fu techniques.

My skin is very white, in fact so white that I don’t buy white sheets, because I like to see where the sheet ends and I begin (for whatever reason.)

I, at some point in time, became involved with a porn star lady and I know quite a bit about the porn industry.

I’m a speculator in the stock market.

I was as good a computer programmer as anyone I have ever met and I was quite a bit better than most.

Chapter 2: San Diego

I was working as a real-time programmer in San Diego. There are a lot of politicians in San Diego and I’m not a politician. Worse yet, I’m never gonna be a politician, because I was too valuable as a worker and as a result the powers that be wouldn’t let me play politics. I was caught in a trap and I could see no way out.

I was working as a real-time programmer, on site at a military base in San Diego. I found myself in the middle of political problems. As a result, Fat Freddie, the Project Manager attacked me and he got himself busted up really bad.

I black out during violence, such as Fat Freddie's attack. Fortunately, the military base has a security camera on duty. It’s later determined that Fat Freddie did indeed attack me and that I hit Fat Freddie with a straight blast right hand that’s also later determined to have broken his jaw and knocked out four teeth. I then hit Fat Freddie in the solar plexus with a monster left hook. I finish Fat Freddie with a right forearm to his ribs and Fat Freddie goes down like the sack of excrement that he is.

Despite the fact that I was the victim of an unprovoked attack, I got fired from my job and the police arrested me.

Fortunately for me, the military base security camera has a version of what happened between me and Fat Freddie. The security camera proves that Fat Freddie attacked me and perhaps shows that he attempted sexual assault on me.

I got a good lawyer and he managed to sue my former employer for a lot of money. I won the lawsuit. My winning the lawsuit resulted in the situation where no one in the San Diego defense community would interview me, much less hire me.

I then lucked into a database programmer job with a company that turned out to be in the going out of business business. I made a lot of money betting against the company where I worked. I also managed to score quite a bit of pussy along the way, some of it because I helped ladies escape from the sexual predators who ran the company where I worked.

By now, I have enough money to live comfortably on the earned interest, which is good. Because of my winning lawsuit against a former employer, no one in San Diego will actually hire me. Well, I do get a few consulting jobs, but nothing steady. I’m thinking about leaving San Diego and getting a programming job somewhere else. However, it’s hard to give up the San Diego beaches, the climate and the world that I know.

One day, I get a consulting job, a database type of thing. I go in and set up a database, but the job is way too simple to really need a programmer of my experience. When I get finished setting thing up, I get called in to talk to the President of the company.

The President sits behind a desk about the size of an aircraft carrier and tells me, Mr. Holt, you’ll never get another regular programming job in San Diego. Do you realize that?

So I have been told. I do what I can as a consultant and also do some other odd jobs around the beach. I manage to get by. (I don’t tell him just how well I get by.)

The big man (Mr. Wagner. Not Wag-ner, Vahg-ner) tells me, I have need of a man who can do a few odd jobs for me and keep his mouth shut.

I do a lot of consulting jobs. I never discuss one client’s business with another client. I don’t even really let people know what clients I work for, as it’s not good for their business, if people find out who I’m working for.

Mr. Wagner lectures me, There are a lot of beach bums who deal a bit of weed.

So I hear. I don’t use the stuff. Weed slows reactions and I play Kung Fu. Slow reactions don’t work well with Kung Fu.

Mr. Wagner asks, Do you know how they get the weed across the Mexican border?

Rumor says that they drive across the border, out in East county. However, I don’t know if the rumors are true.

Mr. Wagner tells me, An acquaintance of mine was importing harder drugs across the Mexican border, using a really clever scheme. Then the police began to seize the drug shipments. How did the police find out?

I analyze, The people who actually haul the stuff across the border are called mules. The mules might have sold out your friend, but they would then either get a long jail sentence from the police or else a shallow grave in East county, from the dealer. I assume that your friend is pretty sure that his mules are silent. The next most probable reason that the police were able to seize the drugs is a bit complicated.

Mr Wagner says, I’m willing to pay you to make it simple for me.

I lecture, Some time back, astronomers had discovered some of the planets in our solar system. However, there were some unusual disturbances in the orbits of the outermost known planet. The astronomers then figured out where a planetary sized body would need to be located to cause the disturbance. They looked there and discovered another, further out planet. They repeated the process a few times.

Mr. Wagner is puzzled and asks me, So what?

The police find that there are hard drugs at least going through San Diego. They discover that fact by arresting drug sellers, further to the North. Once they figure out, or get told, that the drugs have to come through San Diego, they begin to look for disturbances in the San Diego community. They find a few dudes with expensive lifestyles and no visible means of support. It’s most likely drugs are the invisible means of support. The police stake out the dudes and follow them to the drugs. Simple.

Mr. Wagner says, Okay, how does my friend import the drugs, without leaving traces?

It’s probably not possible to eliminate all traces. However, if your friend can leave enough traces, of the right kind, he should be able to import the drugs without the police being able to seize the drugs, for a while at least. And then, the police would only seize a smallish amount of drugs even if they do discover the scheme.

Mr. Wagner tells me, If it’s a workable scheme, it would be worth a lot of money to my friend. Let's say, $100,000 dollars.

What I envision is workable, if the proper Mexican operation can be set up. However, as you're probably aware, it’s quite profitable for a Mexican worker to sell out a drug smuggler.

Mr. Wagner sighs and says, Yes, unfortunately I’m quite aware.

What needs to be done is to set up a legitimate Mexican operation that produces something non agricultural. The Mexicans box the legitimate product up and ship it through the USA port of entry, paying a little customs duty. The product is sealed inside a deodorized container, as just another legitimate item. However, the serial number of the crate that contains the product is then furnished to the warehouse on this side of the border. The legal crates are then delivered to different sales outlets, outside San Diego. The product containing crates are then all shipped to a single warehouse, outside of San Diego, where they open the crate, remove the product box and then sell the rest of the legitimate boxes.

The big man says, Yes, the delivery boys don’t know that they have product in the crates. It’s just a low wage truck driver job.

"The only problem is the Mexican end. The product has to be put in a sealed, completely deodorized, package. The product package then has to be put in a specific spot in the middle of a crate of regular items, with the serial number of the crate very carefully noted.

The big man says, With regular deliveries, the product in the crates should be pretty much invisible. If secrecy is maintained in the Mexican operation, no one should know. Then, it’s just a matter of keeping track of the numbers.

You need to test the packaging, with drug sniffing dogs, to make sure. However, if one person packs the product, another washes and deodorizes the product container and a third person puts the product container into the legal product box and then puts the box containing the product into an otherwise legal crate, you should have no problem.

The big man says, If we use three people in Mexico, the amount of money earned by each of them should be substantial, for Mexico, but not the kind of money that should bring a lot of attention to the people.

The key is in the details. Each step in the process has to be error free. It’s not complicated, but one mistake can bring the whole operation down.

Mr. Wagner says, Yes, organization is definitely needed, but my friend has an organization already built and it’s really just a matter of getting things in order.

There's the matter of $100,000.

Mr. Wagner thinks for a moment and says, Yes, well worth it.

Chapter 3: The Beach People

I leave Mr. Wagner’s place and drive back to my place at the beach. I park my car and then wander along the main street on foot, hitting a few bars to see what’s happening locally.

One of the main topics of conversation in the bars is that Augie got busted by the feds.

Augie was a big time operator in the wholesale product operation in San Diego. Unfortunately, Augie liked to live large and he was very visible as a guy with lots of money and no job. Eventually, the feds busted him. Apparently, the feds had inside help from one Angel, who got the time and place that allowed the feds to grab Augie, with the goods.

Quite a few of the people who live at the beach deal a little weed. Jobs, particularly male jobs, are very hard to find, as the land near the beach is too expensive for most normal businesses. Weed sales, cash work and a little theft are