Free Smugglers 3 Accidental Kingpin by Gerald McCallum

minute, then in back the next, all the time firing at us. We never quit shooting at them, either.
    My boat was running out of ammunition, for the four AR-15 rifles and the SAW had been out for a long time. We were down to four 9-mm pistols with two seventeen-round clips each.
    I called Bob, who said he was in the same situation as us. I told him we were going to make every shot count and only shoot when they get close enough for us to take their people out.
    Bob said he was going to do the same.
    For some reason no more RPG’s came our way. Just then a burst of gunfire passed through the main salon, raising havoc, throwing wood and parts of furniture in the air, causing a cloud that lingered as the next pirate boat did the same thing.
    As it passed in the same circle as the first, I released four 223 rifle shots and killed one of the men on the second boat. Bob called and said he had less than a full clip for one of his rifles left. I told him I had two.
    All this time the pirate boats kept circling and shooting at us like we were in the old movies where Indians would run circle around of wagon trains. I felt like we were sitting ducks.
    I didn’t have time to check on Angel and the kids as I was running from room to room shooting to make them think there were more of us than there were. As I ran, bullets flew through all parts of the boat; splinters were everywhere.
    The three smaller attack boats stopped in a gathering to one side of us, then without any warning they turned toward Bimini and sped off.
    “What was that all about?” Bob asked when he called.
    “Don’t know,” I said. “I’m just damned glad they stopped when they did. Let’s continue on until we see the cut for Miami. We’ll have to stop and rafted together to look at the damage and get our stories straight.”
    We had to contact the Coast Guard as both boats had hundreds and hundreds of holes in them, and my boat had big black marks on the side and signs of a small fire on top.
    The Coast Guard met us before the cut and took our statements and lots of pictures. We then continued to Miami Marina where we spent the night. We had marina people come out to assess the damage.
    Both boats would be out of the water a month. I thought this would be a big problem for me and my family. Little did I know it would be a big problem for Bob and Karen, too.
    If the Mexicans found out I was here, we all would die. If the street gang found out Bob and Karen were here they would die, or maybe all of us would die. We had to turn the boats over for repairs and leave for a month.
    First we had to deal with the rest of the questions from the Coast Guard and any reports they may want before the boats could be moved. Every day brought out a constant parade of people and cameras to see the two boats that had been attacked by pirates on the way to Miami. Newspaper reporters took pictures of everything, and I had to make sure I wasn’t in their view. I let Bob and Karen tell the story of the running gun fight.
    After two days and many interviews and pictures taking, the Coast Guard and DEA were done getting the info they needed.
    Every day hundreds of tourists walk down to the boats and took pictures. One day I called my old attorney on my Trac-fone, telling him that I was in New York and asked him if he’d heard anything. He said there were lots of people found dead when I first disappeared, and they blew up my house, but it had been quiet for months and months now.
    Both Angel and I wanted to see the old house, so I rented a car and settled the kids by the hotel pool, paying a hotel employee to keep an eye on them. We didn’t want the kids traumatized any more than they already were.
    At the house location we could not get through the gate and didn’t want to, but we could see part of the house from there. It had been blown up and burned all right, at least from what we could see.
    We went back to the marina, and decided to have lunch at the Hard Rock. We had a quiet