Free Wood's Reef by Steven Becker

much of one. The baggie they took had most of his product in it. 
    Scenarios of how to cope with this disaster swarmed through his mind like snakes in a pit. He sat down on the desolate stretch of road to Florida City, swatting at the mosquitos feasting on his neck, and extended his thumb out to every passing vehicle, hoping for a ride. The accelerated martyrdom scenario was starting to appeal to him over what Cesar, his Mexican supplier, would do to him. His knowledge about the bomb was the last card left in his hand. He hoped that in return for his help finding the bomb, Ibrahim would make his problems dissapear.

Chapter 15
     
    Behzad sat by the side of the road, staring into the black water of Lake Surprise. Intermittent lights from the vehicles entering and leaving the sole route in and out of the Keys illuminated the two-lane stretch of road. Most of the traffic at this time of night was tractor trailers hauling goods down US1 to Key West, or returning empty. 
    He had no idea what to do. No way to reach Miami to pick up Ibrahim or phone to call. The loss of the cocaine weighed heavily on his thoughts. ‘Run and hide’ seemed like a really good option. The Haitians had taken his assets. There wasn’t much left. All he had was the baggie in his pants, a few hundred worth, if he could avoid temptation and sell it. Not very likely, since he’d started to dip in already, and was tempted to take another bump to change his head. And why not? What was he going to do, walk to Miami? No money, no phone, no car, and stranded on one very lonely and often-dangerous stretch of road … his options were few.
    He was due to make a payment in two days. The Mexicans would be unforgiving when he didn’t. He skirted the edge of the supplier’s patience in good times. He came up with their money, but never the whole amount when promised. It was no secret he used too much product, but he moved a lot, so they tolerated him. He had no cash, but the Mexicans fronted him the drugs on credit. The volume and higher price they garnered made the risk worthwhile. Particularly because they took lives when the payment wasn’t right. Which was what worried him now. Risk management in the drug world was a little different than it was on Wall Street.
    The adrenaline from the car jacking and robbery was waning; in contrast, his paranoia, elevated by the coke, was peaking. Every sound reminded him that he was alone and defenseless. A splash caused him to jump. There was no telling what inhabited these dark, brackish waters. He wasn’t sure if the bulge in the water was an alligator or a figment of his imagination. His solution was to reach into his pants to pull out the baggie. He dipped his nail twice and leaned back, waiting for the powder to perform its magic.
    Slightly restored, he got to his feet and decided the only way out was north. Ibrahim seemed his only hope. Knowledge of the bomb had to be worth something to him. He thought about the money he needed to pay back for the drugs - surely a pittance for a high level terrorist. The question was how to get him to help. He moved slowly down the shoulder of the road, weaving slightly, thinking martyrdom was going to come a little early.
     
    ***
     
    Jerry Doans, head on a swivel, cruised north on US1. He cleared Key Largo, ever vigilant for State Troopers. He imagined the scene in the courtroom as the charges were read: poaching, reckless endangerment and maybe manslaughter if the old man died. It was late, going on 4am, but it was still hot out. He turned the AC to high and opened the windows, hoping the cold air mixing with the humid night would keep him awake. He had to shut the windows, as the combination of refrigeration and humidity quickly created its own weather system, fogging up the entire car. He would feel a lot better when he crossed the Dade County line, he knew. With any luck, the Monroe County sheriff hadn’t identified him yet, and he could blend into Miami or cross over to