“You can’t.”
“You sure about this friend, Mecho?”
“I am sure.”
“What will happen to Lampert back in Bulgaria?”
“We have justice, just like you do here.”
“Do you have the death penalty?”
“We have worse.”
“Worse? Like what?”
“He’ll get to live. In a part of Bulgaria that no one would ever choose to live. He will get to live there for the rest of his life. And he will be busy every minute of every day of every year until he drops from being worked to death. We Bulgarians are relentless when it comes to people who hurt us.”
Lampert struggled to sit up, blood pouring from his mouth. “For God’s sake, Puller, you can’t let t
his happen. You’re a cop. You’ve got a duty. You can’t let this guy take me. He’s a foreigner. He’ll be kidnapping an American citizen. I’m a taxpayer. I pay your damn salary. You work for me.”
Puller ignored this and said, “And your friend is doing this for free? Why?”
“Not exactly for free. I promised him something, but I don’t know how to get it. I’m not even sure what it is.”
Mecho described his friend’s request. Puller smiled and glanced at Lampert. “That’s okay. I know what it is.”
Mecho looked surprised but also hopeful. “So you can get this thing?’
“I can get this thing,” said Puller.
CHAPTER 96
Panama City, Florida, was known to generations of college students who invaded the town for spring break.
Port Panama City was a port with easy access to the Gulf along a nearly nine-mile-long channel.
Ocean liners disgorged tourists.
Cargo ships brought products to America through here and took American-made products to the rest of the world.
It was a busy place, even at night.
Puller stood on the dock holding a box and eyeing the Cyrillic writing on the side of the steel-hulled cargo ship as cranes lifted metal containers onto the ship, stacking them on top of each other.
As he continued to watch, a large wooden box was carried on board. There were two men carrying one end and one man carrying the other.
The one man was Mecho. He was cleaned up from his fighting, his wounds bandaged and mostly hidden under his clothes.
For those who looked closely, and no one did, the wooden crate had two holes for air drilled in it.
Inside the box was Peter J. Lampert. He was bound, gagged, and drugged.
He would wake up in about six hours.
By then the cargo ship would be well out in the Gulf. It would make its way around the southernmost tip of Florida and then begin the long trek across the Atlantic. The cargo ship would plow along at an average speed of ten knots. Seventy-six hundred nautical miles and a month later it would arrive in Bulgaria.
Once Lampert touched Bulgarian soil he would never leave it.
The crate secured on board, Mecho came back down the gangplank followed by a heavyset man who looked strong as a bull.
His thick-veined neck was the size of an average man’s thigh. His sleeves were rolled up and revealed forearms knotted with cords of muscles. He wore a skipper’s cap, and a cigar stuck out from his mouth at an angle.
They reached Puller and stopped.
Mecho introduced the man as his friend and the cargo ship’s captain.
The captain looked at Puller appraisingly. “Mecho tells me you have something for me.” Puller held out the box. “Ten bottles.”
The captain lifted the top of the box and looked inside it.
His smile was wide and immediate.
Puller handed him the box and the captain thanked him and carried it back on board ship. Mecho looked at Puller.
“So what is this thirty-year Macallan?”
“It’s a scotch. Actually a very good scotch.” “And it is thirty years old?”
“So they say.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Let’s just say that it was another opportunity for Peter Lampert to make restitution.”
“Just a few more scars to add to the package.” “Please tell me they caught Lampert. The last thing I remember is seeing him running away with his hands cuffed.”
Puller hesitated. “If I tell you the truth will you swear that you’ll never tell another soul? Even if you’re called on to testify?”
She sat up a little more and looked at him squarely. “What?”
“Maybe I should just let it alone. I don’t want you to have to perjure yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”