Chapter 9 — Summary
This chapter drops you straight into the smoke-hazed orbit of Big Red — the legendary couch that accidentally held more cash than some small-town banks — and the even stranger orbit of DEA Rob, a man who could go from raiding narco-compounds to asking permission to date your waitress before breakfast. Between misplaced stacks of money, late-night coke-fueled revelations, and DEA agents treating Quito’s nightclub scene like their off-duty playground, the whole thing doesn’t feel surreal — it feels like a government documentary directed by someone who failed out of film school and drank their financial aid refund. And just when you think the insanity has peaked, life taps you on the shoulder and whispers, “Relax, it gets dumber.”
Because right in the middle of all that nightclub diplomacy and accidental proximity to felonies, Rob manages to stumble into the biggest career flex any DEA agent in Ecuador could dream of: the first fully submersible narco-sub in DEA history. One glint of sunlight off a mangrove and suddenly it’s helicopters, commandos, and a submarine parked like somebody’s very illegal weekend project. Add in shrunken heads, surprise fatherhood vibes, IRS agents drinking mojitos next to open cash drawers, and a mother escorted through customs like visiting royalty, and you’ve got a chapter that’s part covert op, part dark comedy, and part “this entire situation should’ve been fatal, yet here we are.” It’s a slow-motion disaster wrapped in adrenaline and questionable judgment — and somehow, it only escalates from here.
