Page 446 - NIXBOOK

There was classroom training and lectures about how to find hidden compartments in vehicles; any car can have dozens of
different places to conceal things; some small and some huge.
The training included several prepared junker demo cars that had hidden compartments in them; we were set loose on them in
groups and tasked to find all the hidden things. For some of the cars the instructors gave us screwdrivers and on others we had
to pry parts open with just our bare hands.
We pulled out bundles of fake money and plastic handguns and duct taped packages of simulated bundles of drugs. “Found
another one!” we’d say with grins as we pulled interior door panels out from the frames and hold up a gun. Afterward the
instructor counted the total and said “Well you got them all except for the meth hidden under the hood. But that’s okay, nobody
ever finds that one.” We crowded around him as he pointed into the engine compartment. “You see that hose there?” We peered
into the engine and saw that he was directing our attention to a large corrugated flexible duct hose. It was black and coated with
a fine layer of dust and dirt, and it looked like every other thing in there, like the starter motor, the fan belt, the alternator, the
radiator, and the mess of other random electrical cables and pipes.

He reached in and pulled out the hose, which was about 3 feet long and not connected on either end to anything. “How much
stuff could somebody put into a fake hose like this?” I was impressed.

While I was there, a local TV station showed up to film a segment for their local news that night; I showed up quite clearly on
their segment with my black t-shirt I had found in Hawaii a few months earlier on vacation; it had a huge marijuana leaf on it
and some witty saying I can’t remember what exactly; I thought it would be not inappropriate now that marijuana was legal in
the state.
Another instructor, who was an interdiction state police trooper in a Southern state, told us a very interesting story. It is in fact
one of the best stories I’ve ever heard so I’ll include it here. This would make a great movie. Maybe it will be one someday. “I
teach this course all over the country,” he said one day. “Let me tell you about this guy I know.” He didn’t tell us exactly how he
met him, but he had met him several times and knew this guy had a very special secret.

This guy (we’ll call him “Steve” so I don’t keep calling him “this guy”) owned an auto repair shop. It was in New Mexico. Or
Arizona. Or California. Maybe Texas. Doesn’t matter, it was in a state very close to Mexico. Now Steve used to be a criminal but
he had reformed himself at some point like some criminals actually do and he was making an honest living, owning and
operating his own auto repair business. He had started a family and was no longer involved in any criminal activity. But his past
came back to haunt him; one day some shady characters showed up with a couple of newer cars that appeared to be in very good
condition. “We need you to put some hidden compartments in these,” the guys said. They didn’t need to tell him that the hidden
compartments were going to be for smuggling drugs. The shop owner Steve was surprised because he had gotten out of that line
of work and he did not like the looks of these customers; they looked like bad news. “I don’t do that anymore.” he told them.
“We are not asking you,” was their reply. “We will pay $5,000 per car, and we’ll be back in a week.” They stared at him and he
realized his worst suspicion was true; they were working for a cartel drug lord in Mexico and he did indeed not have the option
to refuse them service. He also realized that these two cars would probably be only just the beginning. The money was good but
Steve wanted no part of the drug cartels; because back in those days (2013) there were numerous drug lords with networks of
hundreds and thousands of drug smugglers and dealers and assassins working for them and it was a very dangerous business to
be in; cartel members were regularly killing and beheading their competitors at every chance they got. It was an extremely
bloody business.
Steve knew he had no choice so he moved the cars into his back shop and told his employees that he would be working on them
himself and they needed to stay away. They all knew exactly what he was doing, but they didn’t know he was doing it unwillingly;
they all presumed he had chosen to get back into some dirty work. A week later the cars were ready, the bad guys came back,
gave Steve ten grand in cash, and they took the cars, being quite pleased with the job. Because Steve was good. He was in fact
really, really good at constructing secret hidden compartments. That’s why they went to him; I guess he had prior experience in