Terry and Jo, a female friend he met three weeks before, sat in the Hogs Breath Saloon watching the tourists. He was more or less looking for his next pussy and she was making fun of the sluts and dumb cocks as she called the young and not so young drinking and trying to hook up. It was still late mid afternoon so no one was totally smashed as they would be later in the evening but several of them had a good load on.

Jo snickered and said, “Wonder how many of these sluts get the shit fucked out of them tonight? Look over there. That blond came in with that drunk over there. Watch what she’s letting those two men do to her. Look at the wedding rings on her finger. Wanna bet her old man loses track of her and she gets screwed?”

Terry watched the trio for a short time and, as they walked toward the door said, “Nope. Looks like its about to happen right now. Hope he likes cream pie.”

Jo laughed again before saying, “So, what’s your gig Terry? You never talk much about your work. All you seem to do ashore is hunt pussy. I know you have your boat but that sure didn’t buy that condo you have. You almost never have a charter. How do you make ends meet. In fact, how did you end up here in Key West?”

“It’s a long story. I just sort of fell into the good life I guess. I grew up on a farm in the midwest about 250 miles west of the Mississippi river. Our place was in south central Missouri. Both my parents worked for the Postal Service but my grandparents had a small farm and my grandfather did custom hay baling during the summer. I wasn’t the typical farm boy but I did work on both my parents small 40 farm and my grandparents larger 160 acre one. My passion was dreaming about being a famous military man. I was fascinated by the revolutionary war but somehow, later in my childhood I became enamored with the navy. I don’t know how many model ships I built when I was young.

“I was one of those typical kids. Got out of high school and went to college because that’s what you did. I really had no idea what I wanted to do. I talked about farming and started out in pre agriculture. Since no one made me go to class, I mostly didn’t. It was a lot more fun to sit in the Student Union and play cards. I lost my scholarship because my grade point average was only 2.28 at the end of the year.

“During the summer after my first year of college I became upset, or perhaps, more upset, with my father. He was always finding fault with me and trying to make me work. Looking back, I know he was trying to make me grow up but then all I wanted to do was have a good time and get away from him. Long story short, I joined the U. S. Navy. I loved the woods and outdoors and to this day I don’t know why I joined the Navy instead of the army but I did. I went to the fleet after boot camp as an ordinary deck ape, a Seaman. I did that for almost a year and got accepted for on the job training as a Gunner’s Mate. That fit in well with my passion for hunting and shooting and I was happy as a clam during the rest of my four years on active duty.

“When my time was up, the career counselors were after me big time to reenlist but by then, I had seen the light. I watched the senior men and their women and decided I really didn’t want a future like they had, walking around drinking coffee and putting up with crap enlisted men and women. Now don’t take me wrong, 98% of the junior enlisted are superior people but the dregs—oh, man, were they a pain in the ass. I didn’t want the months long deployments at sea either where the high point was a port visit or two where you got shitfaced and, if you were lucky, a strange piece of ass.

“I separated from the Navy and instead of going straight home, I ended up in Florida bumming around. Unlike most of my fellow sailors I saved almost all my pay so had a tidy nest egg to live off of until I found a job I liked. I was separated in Mayport (Jacksonville), Florida and began haunting the harbors. I had picked up enough basic seamanship and navigation some pleasure boats owners let me crew and do odd jobs for them to pick up some extra bucks. I even picked up quite a lot of pussy too. Something about a sailing man makes the chicks horny. Or maybe it was the booze in the bars where I picked them up. Anyway, pussy was handy and I frequently got my share.

“The second winter I was working as crew the owner of the boat I was on moved it south as it got cooler. I was still working for him when he died of a massive heart attack. I had worked for him and his wife off and on for several months and we became close. After the funeral she looked me up and made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“Jack, my dead friend had a dream of becoming a fishing charter boat captain after he retired from his job. He loved deep sea fishing and wanted to combine his hobby with enough work to pay the bills for his boat. He had completely rebuilt the boat (what I started helping him with) and purchased the gear to begin his charter operation. By the time he died, I was the titular Captain. I lived on board and did all the upkeep. Anyway, his widow wanted nothing to do with the boat and offered to sell it to me dirt cheap. I had more than enough in savings and jumped on the deal. I was almost finished working on my Coast Guard classes to become certified as a small boat captain to haul charter passengers so I hit them hard after buying the boat. I planned on becoming an actual fishing boat captain like my friend dreamed of.”

Terry leaned back in his chair with a distant look on his face as he remembered what came next. He just didn’t trust Jo well enough to continue with the next part of the story. His thoughts continued though, remembering the trip that really changed his life.

While he worked for Jack there were two storage compartments he would not let him open. He said they contained sensitive gear and he didn’t want to take the chance of damaging it. When he bought the boat and finally got to open those compartments he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was in them or why it was there. One had a Barrett .50 Cal sniper rifle, its equipment, and several boxes of ammunition. The other was filled money and identification with Jack’s picture and different names. He would hate to know what it all cost. He heard the rounds for the Barrett pushed $5.00 each and there were cases of them. God knows what the weapon cost or how Jack got it. He didn’t think he had a firearms license.

Now he knew what those strange pedestals were for also. All Jack had told him before was they were equipment pedestals.

After he bought the boat he began fishing more and in different locations, trying to learn where the fish ran so when he began his charter operation, he could deliver good fishing for his guests. One overcast day he was out several miles and saw a small boat that appeared to be sinking. He motored over to see if he could help and almost got into trouble.

When he approached the boat, he asked, “Are you having trouble? Can I help?”

The three men on the boat were all hispanic and looked jumpy. He slowed down to approach and saw one of the men reach down and pick up something. He saw it was a rifle and hit the throttle, turned the wheel then ducked as low as he could.

The men began firing and and one of them said, “Hey Gringo. You come back now or we will sink you too.”

This pissed him off royally. He was in international waters and instead of doing the smart thing and calling the Coast Guard, remembered the Barrett. He kept to cover and moved to the locker, opened it, loaded and put the Barrett on the pedestal. Five shots later, there were three dead assholes on the sinking boat. He motored back to the boat to see what was there.

When he came alongside the boat he saw a cable leading into the water and followed it back. It was attached to a submarine! He had read about several cases where the authorities intercepted drug running submarines and knew that was what he found. Now he really wished he’d called the Coasties. Since he killed the men on the sinking boat, he was afraid to call then. He thought about what to do for a moment, then worked on the sub until he figured out how to open the hatch and carefully climbed inside.

What he found was not drugs. It was better, much better. Apparently the sub was on its way back home. It had several weapons and cases filled with cash. Mostly cases of $100.00 bills but there were also some large denomination Euros. He spent the next two hours moving most of the cash. He left most of the Euros but moved maybe 3/4 of the cases filled with U. S. Currency. He was now scared but so very excited he was almost shaking.

He immediately headed back to port trying to decide what to do and how to do it. By the time he got to port he was a nervous wreck. Now, he had to decide what to do with the money and how to do it. He knew he couldn’t put it in a local bank and sure didn’t want to keep it on the boat. Finally he decided to do what any crook would do. He took off for the islands and opened a secret bank account. He did keep a couple hundred thousand for mad money though. He deposited just under three million dollars! He was set for life. Now he had to decide how to live a long pleasant life.

All those memories passed quickly and Terry took a deep drink of his beer before he continued with his tale. “Well, after putzing around fishing off and on to learn where the fish were, I decided to head down here. I fished my way down the keys until late one evening, I pulled into Key West and managed to cabbage onto a berth at a pier. I knocked around for a few days and decided I liked it here so one morning I went shopping. It took three days but I found a great little condo for sale. Even better, it come with mooring rights on their pier and parking space for my car if I had one. My offer of $389,000 was snapped up and I was a homeowner.”