A few hours after making the drug bust and completing the required paper work, Chief Hogan walked out the backdoor of the police station and headed for the fire station to tag and photograph the evidence. Upon opening one of the bay doors, he slowly entered the building. However, something did not feel right. He walked to the truck, checked the doors and continued to the rear. The rear entrance was closed.

Maybe, it is just my old age.

Suddenly, the faint scent from the smoked weed hit him like a brick.

It smells like someone been smoking weed in here.

Immediately pulling out his Mag Lite heavy duty flashlight, the chief slowly followed the scent of the weed through the building. He carefully and silently checked each room. As he walked into the sleeping quarters on the second floor, the scent increases dramatically. Quickly, the chief pulled out his gun as he carefully walked into the room. The first thing he noticed was the cot where Randall previously sat smoking from the open bale of weed.

Damn, I got bums. The least he could do is clean up.

Chief Hogan briefly shined the light on the bottle. Randall had few belongings, so the only evidence he left behind in the fire station was the used cola can and the empty Milwaukee Best beer bottle. He knew of only one bum that liked to drink Milwaukee Best. Bending over he picked up the trash from beside the cot and tossed it into the trashcan. Promptly checking and locking all the doors and windows in the building, he secured the abandoned fire station and returned to the bay.

Officer Carlos Steadman arrived at the fire station to help with the evidence.

‘Hey, chief; so how do you want to do this.’

‘Well, Steadman, I figure the first thing we should do is unload all this stuff so we can weigh it.’

Sergeant Milner walked into the bay from the restroom.

‘So, what you guys got up?’

‘Nothing I was just telling Steadman that I wanted to unload the truck. Look, if you guys tear open the bundles, it will be easier to count and we will finish a lot faster.’

Twenty large clear cellophane wrapped bundles were in the truck and Officer Steadman and Sergeant Milner broke each bundle apart and unloaded them from the back of the truck while the chief counted, tagged and weighed the individual packages. By three o’clock the next morning, the three men finished counting the enormous shipment. The final count was fifty-nine thousand nine-hundred and eighty ten-pound packages of marijuana.

The total weight of the shipment was a little less than three tons of top-grade Purple Kush marijuana. The entire load carried an estimated street value of one-hundred and fifty million dollars. Chief Hogan had no idea that this was the biggest drug bust in the history of Alabama. The men stacked the marijuana in four piles against the back wall of the bay and tossed some gray tarps over the top of the large stacks.

‘I found cans and a beer bottle up stairs so there must a bum sleeping in here at night. Steadman, I need you to stand guard here. If he comes back just chase him away. He’s harmless. I will schedule someone to relieve you on the next shift.’

The officer took a seat behind the old metal desk in the almost empty bay as the chief and Sergeant Milner walked to the police station.

Meanwhile in New Orleans, Frank Riggers quickly strolled into Scott McLean’s body shop on Saint Claude Avenue, sitting his large two hundred and thirty pound frame in the chair in front of the large metal desk inside Scott’s office.

‘Scott, I got troubles. Some hick town sheriff in Alabama confiscated my shipment. I need you to go down and see about it. Take some of the men and some money and get my fucking dope back!!’

Scott was an ex Army Ranger that discharged from the military and moved back to his boyhood home in New Orleans. After his father became to sick to run the family business, he assumed control of McLean’s Auto Body shop. However, it was a small shop and New Orleans had an abundance of larger body shops. To survive and stay in business, he decided to work for Frank, one of his boyhood friends. He easily helped him became the underworld Boss of the city.

‘Oh, okay Frank, but what about the two drivers.’

‘See, if you can somehow get them out of that jail then bring their sorry asses to my house in the Bayou for my gators to eat.’

‘Not so fast Frank, where is my fee?’

Frank got up from the chair, walked to the white Bentley idling in the parking lot. Signaling to his driver to open the trunk, he reached inside and returned with a briefcase. Walking back into the office, he placed the case on the desk in front of Scott, popping the metal hinges open.

‘Here is one million dollars. When you return with the shipment, I will give you the other half.’

He slid the closed briefcase across the desk toward Scott.

‘Like I said on the phone earlier your fee sounds unreasonably large.’

Turning the large briefcase around and opening it, Scott leaned forward on the desk and thumbed through a couple of the stacks of one hundred dollar bills. After a few moments, he looked up at Frank. The brown wooden chair creaked under Frank’s weight as he leaned the chair on its two rear legs and continued smoking a cigar. He blew the semitransparent smoke in the air.

‘Frank, this is a major job. To get that truck back and get those guys out of jail, I’ll have to kill some cops and my men might get hurt in the process. If I get caught that means I get a lethal injection or life without parole. Anyway, you got a problem and I got the means to solve it; just remember you get what you pay for. Consider the job done and the boys dead.’

The two men stood and shook hands. Scott slowly walked Frank to the parking lot while continuing to discuss some other business matters and opened the rear door of the Bentley. Frank put one foot inside the car and turned and stared directly at Scott. He needed to tell him something, but didn’t know how to approach him with it. He decided that the best way was to just come right out and say it.

‘I know I don’t have to say this, Scott, but, don’t mess up and not come back. I would hate to have to lose a good man like you over this bullshit, okay.’

‘Man, what are you trying to say. Look, you’ve known me since we were little running around stealing candy from the stores on Canal Street. Frank, you know I’ll never double cross you. Besides what would I do with all that weed? I don’t even like the smell of it.’

‘Shit, you think I’m stupid or something Scott; I already know that about you. Why you think I made you my number one, anyway? Besides that not even what I’m trying to say. Look, I know I don’t supposed to be knowing and shit, but I already know Keisha kinda took a liking to you. Shit, if you get hurt, caught, or God forbid killed, that crazy sister of mine will come gunning for me. I know you don’t want to here this but she told me that I’ve gotta to say it. You be careful and come back alive and in one piece, you hear me, Scott.’

‘Frank, that’s something neither you nor your bossy ass sister gotta worry about because I can handle mine. Anyways, I only pick fights I know I can win. Just have the rest of my money ready when I do get back and we’ll be fine.’

After Frank left, Scott stored the money inside the big gray floor safe in the office. Searching through the old metal desk drawers, he looked for some numbers.

This job must be important for Frank; he never paid me that much before without a fuss. I got to get some good men because it is going to be a fight to get that truck back.

He decided to call ten members of his old Ranger squad; government trained killers. Twelve hours later, Scott had a well experience recon team assembled, heavily armed and ready to go. The team loaded the two custom black 2003 Ford F-450 crew cab work trucks with the equipment and headed for Marion.