TOMMY HAD THE ACME COMPANY heighten the sides of both cargo beds and his pops' one-ton truck now carried 200 cases of whiskey while the second held a load of 300 cases. Rocco rode with Tommy, while two armed men drove the second truck behind them. Each truck carried two men in the cargo bed, wrapped in heavy blankets against the cold. The roads were snowy and slippery and it took two hours longer than they expected to reach Port Maitland. As they turned the final corner to the docks, Rocco wondered if Gamble would be there. Maybe he gave up waiting and sold his boat.
But there he was, sitting on the back of his tug in a large woolen coat, smoking his pipe and spitting over the side as he watched the two trucks pull up.
Tommy stayed seated and gave the old sailor a thumbs up as Rocco got out.
Gamble just sat and waited.
Rocco walked around the front of the truck and approached the tug, "Same deal?"
Gamble considered Rocco with one eye as he puffed on his pipe. Then he wiped his nose with the back of his hand, "Had the idea you guys weren't comin' back."
"Had some trouble."
Gamble spit over the side, "Wouldn't have anything to do with the stuff I read about up Hamilton way?"
"I don't know anything about that."
"Uh huh." Gamble puffed on his pipe.
"How about the three hundred per trip you thought you should have asked for?"
Gamble puffed on his pipe a few times and then stood up, "In that case, I guess we should go see old Sam."
Rocco watched the old sailor step over onto the dock, "Only difference for now is we don't need to go over to the Buffalo side. We just need to find a spot on our side to make the drop."
Gamble walked with Rocco towards the trucks, "You pay the bill and I take you where ever you want to go. I imagine you want to pick up the load like those other guys over in Buffalo, only with your own trucks?"
Rocco didn't say anything as he reached up to take the paperwork from Tommy.
Gamble looked up at Tommy, "Once we load my tug, you take the road back out of town and take the first left. You follow that road for...thirty minutes and you'll see a sign says Fisherman's Glen. Take the second left...that's my brother's place. You'll see a dock past the house. I'll meet you there. That way you won't have to wade into cold water. I'll let my brother know and I'll settle up with him for use of the dock."
***
Rocco walked into the customs office behind Gamble. The air was blue with tobacco smoke but had a sweet, toasted smell to it.
Sam was sitting by the hot stove again and he pulled the pipe from between his lips and spit on the floor, "Back again I see."
"Shit, you're eyes are as good as ever," Gamble grumbled.
Sam rose slowly from the chair and ambled to the counter, "Heading for Cuba again, I imagine."
Rocco stepped forward and placed his papers on the counter, "We sure are." Then he casually placed an envelope beside the papers and tapped it several times, "And we just might be going to Cuba every day." He then strolled over to the stove and warmed his hands.
Sam glanced at the envelope and then eyed Rocco.
Gamble walked over to stand by Rocco, where he stuck his hands out over the stove for warmth as he puffed on his own pipe.
Sam reached for the envelope, lifted the flap and peeked inside. He saw a $100 bill and blinked. He closed the envelope for a moment and peeked again, wondering if the bill would disappear. It didn't. He closed the flap and looked over at Rocco, "You say...every...day?"
"It might even be two or three times a day. Same arrangement...if it's not too much trouble," Rocco said as he rubbed his hands together.
Sam reached for his stamp, pounded it in the ink and nearly pounded a hole in the desk under the custom papers, "No trouble at all, sir. That's what I'm here for. I look forward to serving you."