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Okay this is not Jan, but the guy is selling a legendary reverb unit that Jan used on the show. He posted this video as a demo. The beginning is a simple drum machine pattern. Listen how it instantly turns into a bunch of MV cues when he starts fiddling with the reverb!

Hey y'all, here are *MIAMIVICEONLINE.COM-EXCLUSIVE* present day photos of the house which I got directly from the owner family. They were even as helpful as trying to capture the camera angles from the episode. A HUGE THANKS to Ben Weinberger and his folks! Enjoy!

One Way Ticket??

...he said, and roared away in his Maserati

Do you 2 guys have some kind of scam going here? Everytime I login and check it's already been answered!

yes, indeed. I'm actually baffled by their effort. Look at these overlays I just did, that's really cool!

This is when Sonny accepts Gina’s invitation to dinner in “Bought and Paid For”.

They even still have the spotlights in the hallway and the barstools...also the wall unit in the TV room looks almost the same except the color

What were they smoking when they green lit this story? The only explanation I could think of was that Phillip Michael Thomas wanted to do some dumb story and everyone was like "uhh...okay sure..." but Tubbs mentions he doesn't believe in voodoo so maybe that wasn't it. Or while Mann was working on Manhunter, someone said "Quick lets do this while he ain't looking...Oh crap he's coming back RUN"

I sure Tony Soprano would second that

Yeah...I know. Bad form to follow one story in progress with another that's done. But it's another foray in the first season (also between the pilot and Heart of Darkness) and I wanted to get it out there just because. Ricardo Tubbs smiled across the table, ignoring Sonny Crockett shifting like a nervous child beside him. He was the one who had to hook Vitorio Ordonez, not his partner. And they’d do it his way. “The thing is, Vito, my people need product. Not promises. You can’t expect me to go back to New York with nothing but your promises and a kiss on the cheek. That ain’t how things work up there.” “I get that, Taylor. But your people have to see things is…what’s the word?” “Fluid.” Sonny spat the word out like a sour slice of lime. “You mean fluid, Ordonez.” “Yeah. Fluid. With Quintaro in jail and jefe Calderone only the Virgin knows where, people are nervous.” Vitorio had a thin, weasel smile, and he used it now. “And the flow slows down when people are nervous.” “Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new.” Rico looked at his watch, a big Rolex he’d picked out in the property room. They said it had once belonged to a Panamanian dealer who’d preceded all of them after he got in a gunfight with Narcotics. “I only agreed to this meeting because Burnett here said you could deliver. It’s starting to look like you can’t.” “No, Mr. Taylor. You misunderstand.” That smile came again, making his narrow mustache twitch. “I can deliver, just not as much as Quintaro might have. Not at first. You see, things must return to normal. Supplies start flowing again as they should.” Sonny yawned. “This is all very touching, but I got places I’d rather be.” “Patience, Burnett.” Rico grinned, knowing he’d hear about that comment later. “We’re almost done. This is the part where I tell Vito here I can pay thirty five a key. No more. And then he tells me how much he can bring this time.” “Twenty keys. That’s all I have on hand. Now. But once things are clear, I can go bigger.” I doubt that, chump. But I’ll humor you. “Good. My associates prefer larger deals.” Reaching under the table, Rico brought up the attache case. “Thirty five. As we agreed.” It was almost quiet in the back of the club, away from the sound system and sweaty bodies on the dance floor. But the light at the table was good enough for Rico to see Vito’s eyes go wide at the sight of the slim aluminum case. He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a brick wrapped in brown paper. “One key. As agreed.” Reaching out, Rico took the brick and handed it to Sonny. He kept his eyes fixed on Vito as his partner went though the motions of cutting through the wrapping with a pocket knife and scooping out a sample. He dropped it into a test kit and shook it. “Looks good, Taylor. At least eighty percent pure. Closer to ninety if the light was worth a crap in this place.” Rico nodded. “And the rest?” “Tomorrow night. There’s an old gas station down by 20th and Miami. Used to be a Shell station. You can’t miss it.” Sonny nodded. “I know the dump. Good place for a rip-off.” “Come on, Sonny. Would I rip you off? We’ve done such good business, and Taylor here opens a new market for us both.” Vito’s smile was wide this time. “I would not, how do you say, shoot the golden goose.” “Good. ‘Cause this goose shoots back.” Rico grinned. “We’ll meet you there at eleven. I see more than one vehicle or you and another guy the deal’s off.” “Fair enough. You and Burnett come alone, too.” Grabbing the case, Vito got to his feet. “See you two tomorrow.” Once he was gone, Sonny turned to Rico. “I just hope that damned tracker thing in the case works.” “Yeah, but I think Stan and Larry know their stuff.” “You don’t know Bluto and Lee Harvey Oswald like I do, pal. That’s one hell of a hope.” Sonny chuckled. “And we gotta get you a new cover. Richard Taylor just don’t flow off the tongue.” Rico contented himself with a nod and waved for another drink. He was still too new, too unsure of his moves down here, to really question what Sonny said. But the two lab guys had impressed him with their knowledge. They’d worked with tech boys a few times back with Armed Robbery in the Bronx, mostly setting up cameras and the like in fronts designed to lure crews in, and Stan and Larry looked at least as good as the teams he’d worked with them. But this was Miami, and he reminded himself at least ten times a day he was still learning the rules down here. A quick flare of light highlighted the stubble on Sonny’s face as he lit a Lucky Strike with his battered Ronson lighter. “We’ll give the punk a few minutes to get clear and then let’s blow this pop stand. Give Lou our report and then go get a real drink.” Lou Rodriguez looked at the reports stacked on his desk and sighed. He’d rather be home listening to his wife do dishes and the kids squabbling about their homework, but there was still work to do. Not the least of which was squeezing a report out of Crockett and Tubbs. He looked at the last lines of Calabrese’s and Joplin’s reports on the pimp they were trying to bust without really seeing them, then closed the folder with a sigh. Even now he couldn’t really say why he’d gone to bat for Tubbs with the bosses. He was a good cop, but there were already plenty of those in the squad. Part of it was the chance to have someone who could operate in Overton without causing a riot. He was honest enough with himself to admit that. But there had to be more to it than that. He didn’t think Tubbs would really slow Crockett down. Oh, maybe he would at first. But not for long. He could see the same risk-taking glitter in the New York detective’s eyes. Tubbs would follow procedure because it had been beaten into him with the NYPD, not because it was in his nature. But he’d proven he was fast enough to keep up with Crockett, and good enough to look after himself when Sonny got them in too deep. Maybe that was all he could hope for. Lou looked at his watch and scowled. The meet should have been over at least thirty minutes ago. Switek and Zito wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours, since they had to follow the case. But Sonny and Rico should have been back by now. He was starting to prepare his ‘where the hell have you two been’ speech when the outer doors crashed open and Crockett and Tubbs came through. He didn’t get up. “Crockett! Tubbs! My office!” A cigarette dangled from the corner of Crockett’s mouth as he sat down. “The whole thing went off clean as you please, Lou. The rest of the deal’s going down tomorrow night at 2300. We’ll have a briefing ready by 1500 so people have time to get into position before it goes down.” He grinned. “New York here did fine out there.” “I aim to please.” But Lou saw the quick flash of anger in Rico’s dark eyes. “Vito’s nervous, but he’s coverin’ it by trying to play big man.” “Yeah, but he’s one of the ones from Quintaro’s crew who’s got potential.” Sonny sent a thin trail of smoke toward the ceiling. “He also did most of the boat work, so he’d have the connections down south.” “I just wonder what’s got him so knotted up about supply. You’d think if he was that tight he’d have more than the weight he’s claiming on hand.” “Maybe he does, Tubbs. Maybe he’s playing hard to get.” Lou shook his head. “It doesn’t matter to me. A twenty key buy gets him off the street as fast as a fifty key buy. And I want him off the street.” “You got it, lieutenant.” Lou didn’t miss Rico responding too quick for Sonny to get a word in. “After tomorrow night he’s the DA’s problem, not ours.” “Good work today. Both of you. Now go home and get some sleep. Busy day tomorrow.” He looked up for a moment. “And Crockett, I thought you’d like to know. The city settled with Eddie Rivera’s widow.” Once they were gone, Lou let out a long sigh. Another look at his watch told him he needed to go, no matter how much he wanted to look through the pimp case report again. He’d missed dinner twice so far this week, and that was all Maria allowed. If he left now he’d just make it and avoid a night of old-school Roman Catholic silent treatment. He wished he could be sure about his little experiment. Sure that Tubbs would settle Crockett down. Sure that Tubbs could keep his temper under control long enough to learn how to operate in South Florida from Crockett. But he wasn’t sure. All he had was his gut telling him those two were perfect partners and that they’d go far. And in all his years wearing a badge he’d learned sometimes your gut was all you had, even if you couldn’t understand it. Clicking off the desk lamp he shrugged on his suit coat and headed out the door. With any luck traffic would be more forgiving than Maria. If he closed his eyes Rico could almost pretend he was back on the fire escape outside his apartment in the Bronx. The roar of passing cars. Shouts from below on the street. But then the salt tang breeze hit his nose and he knew New York was far away. Maybe gone forever. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and looked around. The hotel balcony had a great view of the beach, and even now a handful of lovelies almost wearing bikinis were trying to snatch the last rays of the dying afternoon sun. It wasn’t like he had anything to go back to in New York. Only memories. His brother was dead, his father hadn’t talked to him since before the funeral, and Valerie…who knew where she was. His mother he knew wouldn’t break the silence imposed by the old man, and he’d never forgive Rico for the death of his oldest son. No, that wasn’t quite it. He’d never forgive the Job for the death of Rafael, and Rico was the badge by extension. So there was no family to go back to. And the Job had made it perfectly clear they didn’t want him anywhere in the area, but he couldn’t blame them. Not when he’d gone so far off the reservation. Once again he thanked whatever it was that had made Lou Rodriguez stick his neck out and get him a job. So he could at least start over here. But that left Valerie. Sighing, he turned and went back into the room, closing the sliding glass door behind him and pouring a generous measure of scotch into the glass on the small table. He’d met her just out the Academy, when they were both young and full of the optimism that comes with an untarnished badge. They kept crossing paths, coming together and drifting apart. But somehow they always found each other again. Even after he’d ended up in the Bronx on Armed Robbery and she’d been promoted to Homicide out of Brooklyn. That was when things started falling apart. The scotch warmed a trail down his throat as he stood in the cone of the air conditioning, letting the cool air dry the sweat on his face. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but at some point during his second year in Armed Robbery she started calling less and ducking his calls more. When Rico complained to his brother, Rafael just smiled. “I warned you about that type, little bro. Nothing but trouble.” Then he found out she’d shifted to Organized Crime from Homicide. Still, she’d call on occasion. And he just couldn’t shake her from his heart. If there was one thing that might take him back to New York, it was Valerie. Shaking his head, he took another drink. He needed to get his mind on this case. On the problem that was Vitorio Ordonez. It wasn’t much of a buy, but like the lieutenant said it would get him off the streets. And maybe it was another test. To see how he and Crockett worked together. He still wasn’t sure what to think of his new partner. One minute he was all juiced up and ready to break heads, and the next he’d talk about how he hadn’t been there much for his son. His marriage was doomed…Rico had seen enough cops sliding out of those to know the signs. But wasn’t going to be the one to break that news to Crockett. But he had to admit there was a damned good cop lurking behind the adrenalin junky cowboy. He just knew he’d have to watch his own back and move fast to keep up. Sonny Crockett didn’t seem like the type who spent much time watching his partner’s back. He was about to pour another drink when the room phone rang. Rico looked at it, wondering who the hell would be calling him. Finally he snatched it up on the fifth ring. “Yeah?” Valerie’s voice was thin and soft. Like he knew it got when she drank too much. “I called that office of yours and they gave me your number. Took some doin’, though. Even wanted my damned badge number.” “Val…” “Yeah. Last person you expected to hear from.” She laughed, a mean thing down in her throat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on this, either. But work…you know…” “Yeah. Must be a drag in the Organized Crime detail these days.” She sighed, and he could hear her long nails drumming on a table or desk. He wondered if she was calling from her Brooklyn apartment or some hotel room in Queens or wherever the hell her squad had her holed up. “It ain’t all like that, babe. I just wanted to say sorry about Rafael. I never got to do that right.” “Not like I gave you much time.” Rico unbent a little. He had to. He’d ducked out of New York after shooting Calderone’s bodyguard as fast as he could. Getting tied up for weeks with some IAB witch-hunt hadn’t been on his to-do list. “And I didn’t give you much time when you called the night before. I wanted to, Rico. Really did. But…” “You were working. I get it.” He heard ice clinking in a glass. “I hear you’re off the force.” “NYPD? Yeah. They said thanks but no thanks.” Rico chuckled. “Can’t say’s I blame them. Too much dirty laundry woulda gotten hung out in public. Besides, they got better clothes down here in the damned seized property lockers. Armani and everything.” This time her laugh wasn’t mean. “You always were a dresser, Rico.” The ice clinked again. “I shouldn’t have called.” “Val…” “No, it’s always like this. We try, an’ then something comes between. It’s just so damned hard, Rico.” “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He could feel her slipping away. Going to that dark place of hers where nothing made sense. “Oh, but it does. I’m sorry, Rico. I really am…” Then the receiver buzzed hollow and empty in his ear. Morning came too soon, and Rico found himself sitting at his desk going through last night’s surveillance logs waiting for Sonny to get in. The desk was getting there. He’d added a few touches of his own, and had a cup of coffee perched on the corner to keep his rumpled desk calendar company. They’d done a good job cleaning it out, and he was starting to forget he was sitting in a dead man’s spot. Sonny was the last one to arrive, still wearing his Ray Bans and taking a deep drag off a Lucky Strike. Rico grinned behind his coffee cup, knowing his new partner’s eyes were likely blood red. “Long night, partner?” Sonny snorted. “Somethin’ like that. I go to thinkin’ about what old Vito might be looking to gain from all this.” “That damned walking suitcase help you do your thinking?” “Hey! Sometimes Elvis is a help. Ain’t quite got him trained to fetch beers without punchin’ holes in the cans, but a guy can dream.” Rico shook his head. “I’ve been looking through the logs. Looks like that place Vito wants to meet gets used regularly by a branch of some outfit called the 20th Street Aces for street dealin’.” “Surveillance logs?” “Yeah. We used those up in the Bronx to track crews.” “Well, it ain’t no surprise he’d want to deal there, then. Old Vito used to be an Ace before he started running with Quintaro.” Sonny pulled a folder out of the mess that was the right-hand corner of his desk. “I pulled his jacket yesterday to read ahead.” “You think he’s workin’ with them now?” “Naw. He’s too big for that crew. At least in his own head.” Sonny tossed the folder across the space between the two desks. “But that gives us another problem. They might try to rip him. Cut him down to size a bit.” He crushed out his cigarette in an ash tray perched on the left corner of the desk and took off his sunglasses, wincing at the fluorescents. “Damn. Shoulda left those on.” Rico ignored the opening. “So, do we read the lieutenant in on that little tidbit?” “Naw. He’d want to send more backup, and those boys would scare off Vito. We want to grab this clown we gotta stick with the original plan. You go in as Taylor with the buy money and I come along as Burnett to make sure I get my finder’s fee.” He shook his head, then winced. “And we gotta find you a better cover.” “You said that already. I’m kinda partial to Rico Cooper, but we’ll wear this one out first.” “Cooper.” Sonny seemed to roll the name around in his head and on his tongue. “Yeah. That’s got a simple ring to it. Guy who could be from anywhere and likely has a boatload of cash behind him.” “Glad you like it.” In truth Rico didn’t care if his partner liked the name or not. It would work for him, and that’s what mattered. “And any idea about what kind of friends Vito might bring to our little dance? The conference room was about half full, with Lou Rodriguez parked in a cloud of cigar smoke at the head of the table and the rest fanning away on both sides. Rico let Sonny do most of the talking, content to watch the rest of the squad and firm up his opinions of them. Stan and Larry sat together alternately taking notes or laughing about some inside joke or another that made sense only to them. Sonny might call them Bluto and Lee Harvey Oswald, but they reminded Rico more of Laurel and Hardy…one big where the other was thin. But there was something about them that wasn’t comic at all. Larry could look slack-jawed one second and then move with a speed and assurance that reminded Rico of boxers he’d known growing up. And Stan…behind the Elvis-quoting exterior he caught glimpses of someone who was strong and knew what the hell he was about. The uniforms were represented by a patrolman second class who looked like he was just waiting for his shift to end so he could go home to his fat wife and three equally-fat kids. Rico snorted inside. Back on Armed Robbery they’d had a special backup unit, trained to move in with them if things went south. Watching the guy draw circles on his pad, Rico could only hope Sonny’s predictions about the meet came true. He forced himself to tune back into the briefing. “…and we know Vito usually moves with at least two bodyguards.” Sonny waved his hand to take in the group. “But I don’t think that will be a problem for us.” “Count on it, Sonny.” Lester looked up from his notes. “His boys try anything, we’ll clamp down on ‘em so fast they won’t know what hit them. Ain’t that right, Stan?” “You got it, Lar.” Switek grinned. “So long as Peters over there can get his fat ass out of his squad car.” “Up yours, Switek.” The uniform cracked a smile at what Rico assumed must be some longstanding joke. “We’ll be there to save you pretty boys.” Lou looked up. “That’s enough. Peters, you make sure your people aren’t in plain view. I don’t want a repeat of the Franklin situation. Are we clear?” “Yes, lieutenant.” Peters almost swallowed his gum. “Good. Crockett, Tubbs. We can’t send you in wired, but Zito assures me the boom mic can pick you up from a safe distance. Isn’t that right, Zito?” “You got it, lieutenant. We can listen in from across the street. Got a spot for the van already picked out.” “Good. You know the signals?” Sonny nodded from the podium. “We’re good there, Lou. Make my day if the deal’s good and who the hell do you think you are if it’s a rip.” Lou nodded, and Rico could see the end of his cigar glow as he took a puff. “Let’s get moving, people. I want everyone else in position before Crockett and Tubbs roll out. This is 20th Street Aces turf. According to Gangs they’ve been quiet, but we all know how quickly that can change. And I’ll be in the van with Switek and Zito.” “Aw, lieutenant.” Larry’s whine was practiced. “We just got the old girl cleaned. You know how expensive those hangie pine things are?” “Can it! Let’s get moving. The deal’s not until 2300 so grab some food or something. But I want backup on station no later than 2200.” Once the room cleared, Rico looked up the length of the table at Sonny and shrugged. “Guess it’s our show now, partner.” “Joo got it, meng.” Sonny looked up and laughed. “Sorry. I forgot. You’ll get it when you meet Moreno. CI I’ve got. The little fruit is from Havana by way of Mars. He gets good info sometimes, but he’s out there. And I mean OUT there.” “Can’t wait.” Rico shook his head. He’d had his share of strange rangers back in the Bronx, starting with Little Leo. But you took what you could get with CIs, and if they produced you stuck with them no matter how strange they were. “But I gotta agree with the lieutenant. Some food would be good before this goes down. If you’re up to it.” “Yeah. Let’s blow this pop stand and grab a bite. But I gotta swing by the boat and feed Elvis first.” Sonny pulled on his Ray Bans. “You wanna tag along?” “So long as I ain’t on the menu, I’m game.” Lou heard rather than saw his two detectives leave, their banter coming through his partly-open office door as they headed out. Shaking his head, he looked against at the new folder on his desk. They might not have wanted him here, but they sure didn’t waste any time putting him to work. Every year or so the mayor launched an effort to clean up smut in Miami. It didn’t matter who was sitting in the mayor’s chair. The campaign made for good, quick headlines and usually rounded up a boatload of hookers, a few pimps, and an assortment of porno actors and producers. Arrest numbers went up, along with low-level convictions and fine revenues, and since most of the accused were released with slaps on the wrist it didn’t clog the jail system. Maybe I am getting too old for this he thought as he looked at the folder containing what he’d come to consider one of the rites of spring. Normally the Vice unit’s contribution was Gina and Trudy to sweep up a pimp or three and Sonny and his partner of the month to bring in a small-scale porno shoot or maybe some hookers. But some bright spark up the food chain had noticed they had an honest-to-goodness Yankee on the squad now, and a fresh face in the bargain. And that had started them thinking. Nothing bothered Lou more than bosses thinking…unless it was Crockett playing cowboy again. Still, he’d been able to push this one off until they finished their current operation. If they wanted Crockett and Tubbs by name, they’d have to wait until Ordonez was in the bag. He flipped the folder open and looked at the front page again. This time they weren’t aiming for a nickel and dime porno shoot. This time they were going for one of the major players, using Tubbs’ new guy shine as a way to slip in two buyers down from New Jersey to make a big purchase. But this time it was movies for their peep shows instead of Columbian coke. Ordonez had to come first, though. Closing the folder, Lou pushed it aside, running through the plan Crockett had briefed not long before. But he couldn’t get this new op out of his mind. Going after Sam Kovacs wasn’t something you did on a whim. Porn was only one of his rackets, even if it was the biggest. Glaring at the cigar butt in his ash tray, Lou picked up the phone and stabbed numbers. “This is Rodriguez. Bring me the file on Sam Kovacs. Any linked files, too, please.” Rico chewed the last mouthful of his Cuban sandwich, watching Sonny chase ketchup on his plate with his few remaining french fries. For once the ticking suitcase had been agreeable, and they hadn’t spent much time on the boat. They’d killed a little time driving around the heart of Maimi, Sonny playing the role of underworld tour guide and pointing out the hot spots that mattered in their line of work. Corner drug markets. The various strolls the hookers worked. Various gang turfs up close and personal. It was the kind of thing patrol cops usually did with their new partners. And the sandwich hadn’t been half bad. He knew the food was going to be one of the adjustments he’d have to make, coming from a place where having too many choices was a way of life. But the little diner Sonny picked was away from the tourist crowds, the coffee was good, and the food hadn’t been fried within an inch of its life. And the waitress hadn’t given him a look when he asked for salad instead of fries. Sonny chewed his last fry with a quizzical look on his face. “So what does New York think of our little neon playground?” Rico grinned, sensing the trap in the question. “You got more stucco than brick down here, but get rid of that and one drug corner here looks damned near the same as one up there. Mean streets is mean streets. And a cop’s always gotta know where they are.” “Yeah. I guess they do.” Sonny took a drink of coffee, and Rico could sense him framing another question. “How do you wanna work this?” “I figure same as last time. I’ll talk money and you do your thing. If that works for you.” “Yeah.” Sonny looked down at his plate. “You know, I’ve run a few covers in my day. But this Burnett one seems to fit better.” “Just a fun time guy with a fast boat? I can dig that.” “Yeah. It’s always better when the cover’s kinda natural. You know, one time Lou wanted me to go all neo-Nazi as a cover. Some arms bust or another a couple of years back. Now that one just didn’t fit. Used the same name, though. Burnett.” He chuckled. “Good thing skinheads and dealers don’t run in the same social circles.” “You can always say you went true American. Pure capitalist.” Rico laughed at the thought. “NYPD never asked me to go all Nation of Islam, but they probably would have if those chumps started pulling bank jobs.” “So your squad didn’t do much undercover?” “Naw. My partner up there, Victor Sanchez, only went under once or twice, and he had ten years on me. But he didn’t like UC. Most of ‘em didn’t.” “But you did.” “Yeah. My brother did quite a bit of it in Narcotics. He…” Rico paused, skirting memories he’d rather leave untouched for now. “He said I was a natural.” “Well, I don’t know as I’d go that far, but for someone who hasn’t done it much you’re damned good. But we gotta be good down here. Some of these Latin bozos have long memories. They move through enough it’s new faces all the time, but there’s a handful that stay back in the shadows.” “Yeah. We were always buttin’ heads with the Mob, so I get the thing with chumps in the shadows.” Sonny looked at his watch and tossed some money on the table. “We’d better get moving unless we want to be late to our own party. Assuming there still is one. I didn’t like the idea of people being in position ahead of time, but when Lou’s got that look on his face you don’t argue with the man.” The first thing Rico noticed was how many streetlights didn’t work as they go closer to the meeting spot. “Man, that’s always a bad sign. These many lights always down or did they have help?” “It’s hit or miss out here, partner.” Sonny drove with one hand on the wheel, his whole being focused on the action ahead. “Last time I was down this way quite a few were out. Old Vito wouldn’t have had to do much if he was wantin’ us blacked out.” “Solid.” But Rico shifted in the passenger seat, feeling the comforting weight of his Smith & Wesson. At least they weren’t going in naked. When Sonny made the last turn, the Daytona’s headlights swept across a Monte Carlo and some kind of bigger town car parked down by the crumbling remains of the old gas station’s garage. He hadn’t seen any of the backup, and hoped they were out there somewhere in the deeper shadows. He caught himself and smiled. He’d be pissed if he had seen any of the backup. The Ferrari’s tires crunched over loose gravel as Sonny rolled past the dead pumps and came to a stop twenty feet from the two cars. It was exactly eleven. It was hard to miss Vito standing by the front of the black Monte Carlo, a chunky figure with a light dress shirt unbuttoned about three buttons too far and gold chains. His guys were harder to miss, back by the town car in what looked to be dark track suits or business casual. “Someone don’t like sharing the spotlight,” he muttered to Sonny as they stepped out of the low Ferrari. “You got that right. Got the buy money?” Rico hefted the thick briefcase in reply. “Good. Then let’s get this party started.” Vito came away from the car with a grin on his face. “Burnett! Taylor! So glad you could make it! Maybe someday someone will fix this place up. You think?” “Seems good for what it’s doin’ now.” Rico looked straight at the goons. “You not trust us with all that muscle?” “You two? Of course I do. But this neighborhood, she isn’t the best these days. A man has to protect his investments.” Sonny closed the distance, and Rico could hear his white slip-ons disturbing bits of broken glass from some wino’s empty bottle. “Yeah, I guess a man does at that.” Rico hung back. “You got the party favors? My man Burnett’s gonna do a check. Make sure everything’s cool. You can send one of your apes to check the cash.” He held up the case. “You heard the man, Paco. Go check.” Vito waved his hand. “Tino, bring up the product. I want Burnett to pick his key.” Rico watched the men move away from the shadows. Nine keys left, so it all should fit in a big gym bag. He could feel his New York reflexes spinning into overdrive. Up there a deal smaller than twenty keys was always about the rip. But down here it seemed to be the Florida version of a handshake. Maybe that’s part of being closer to the wholesale end. Nothing under fifty keys is worth the trouble. Still, he watched. When the big man got close, he set the briefcase on the Daytona’s hood and popped the latches. The goofball didn’t even make eye contact, just picked stacks at random and flipped through them. Finally satisfied, he turned back and nodded. Rico could see Sonny busy with the gym bag, cutting open bricks and adding traces of the contents to his test kits. On the third one he saw a change in his partner’s posture. Small, but there. Rico undid the last button on his suit coat, covering the move by slamming the case closed. “That’s your free look, chump. When Burnett says you get the case. Not before.” He watched Sonny hold the plastic pouch up to the light once, then again. “Who do you think you are, pal?” Goodbye Richard Taylor. Never liked your dry ass anyhow. “Freeze!” His right had flashed under his coat and came up filled with the little Smith. “Maimi Vice!” He saw glints as Sonny drew that big cannon of his, and then sirens shattered the stillness of the night around them. “Cops!” The big man closest to Rico pulled his own piece and blasted off a shot in the general direction of the oncoming patrol cars before Rico dropped him with two .38s to the chest. The pops of his revolver were swallowed up by the boom of the big 10mm as Sonny started squeezing off shots at the other two goons by the car. Vito lay flat on the ground, his arms outstretched and face buried in the dirt. Lou looked at the handwritten report. “So you say they tried to pass cut coke? Is that it?” “Yeah.” Sonny looked at Rico and shrugged. “The first two keys were good. At least 80 proof. And then I hit that third one. Didn’t clear forty. I tried one more to be sure. Same thing. You only do that in this town if you’re an idiot or trying a rip.” Rico nodded, thinking back to the big guy’s moves by the Daytona. “Yeah. The chump counting the money wasn’t in any hurry to leave. Usually they want to grab the cash and get back to the deal. Not this fool. I think he was waiting to plug me as soon as Vito gave the word.” “And is Ordonez talking?” “Not yet. He’s still cleaning out his shorts. Switek and Zito are sitting on him down at central booking.” Lou nodded. “Have them or Dibble conduct the interrogation. I’ve got something special for you two.” He tapped the folder on his desk. “You know what time it is, Crockett?” Sonny moaned. “Come on, Lou! You ain’t gonna stick us on pimp patrol, are you? I got my last three reports in on time! This isn’t…” “Can it, Crockett! No, you’re not on pimp patrol, whatever the hell that is. The chief asked for you two by name for this one. He wants you to go after Sam Kovacs.” Rico looked confused. “Is that…” “He’s a big time porn producer down here.” Sonny grinned. “Don’t ask Zito about him. He’ll tell you every award the slime ball’s movies have won in the last five years. And I’m not kidding.” “Porn’s legal down here, right?” Lou nodded. “But not with drugs and underage girls. Both of which Kovacs is rumored to specialize in. We’ve tried a time or two to get to him, but he’s not interested in local deals.” Lou’s smile made Rico’s skin crawl just a bit. “But now we have an outside buyer. Two of them, in fact.” “You expect me to pretend I’m from New York?” “No, Crockett. New Jersey.” Rico grinned. “Perfect. The theater and peep show trade in Atlantic City alone would keep this Kovacs afloat for years.” “That’s what we’re hoping, Tubbs. How well do you know that trade?” “Well enough to fake it with some chump down here. I’ll do some research before we meet, though.” “Good.” Lou opened the folder and pulled out a picture of a pasty white boy with one of those All-American faces that usually covered a multitude of sins. “This is one of his main producers.” Sonny nodded. “Jimmy Conway. We tried to make him for drugs a few years back. Came up empty.” “His number’s in the file. Go through it, work up a plan, and get it to me as soon as you can. It’s a business, so you can call the creep and set up a regular meeting.” Lou’s voice changed. “Maybe tour the set or something.” Back in the squad room, Rico turned to Sonny and grinned. “You’ll feel right at home pretending you’re from New Jersey, partner. They got swamps and everything.” “Up yours, pal.” But Sonny was grinning. “Let’s go through this stuff and see what we can put together. This Kovacs is a bad dude. But insulated. No one’s ever been able to make anything stick on him.” “There’s always a first time, partner.” Rico looked at Jimmy’s pretty boy picture. “There’s always a first time.”

It had been a gradual process, but the small shed near the parking pad had become the place Martin Castillo left his old life. Built from concrete blocks, it was strong enough to withstand a hurricane and secure enough to suit his needs. He still kept a tuned .45 in the main house, but the majority of his weapons now lived in the shed. Even with air conditioning, the humidity of South Florida demanded he tend to to the weapons regularly. With Trudy at Caitlin’s House teaching one of her art classes he figured today was as good a day as any. Stepping out into the clinging heat, he made the short walk from the porch to the shed and keyed in the door code. He had time before Sonny and Jenny arrived, and this was something he still preferred to do alone. The big Smith & Wesson Model 29 drew his attention first, followed by a well-used XM-177E2 carbine still sprayed with faded black stripes. The sharp tang of solvent bit his nose as he looked at both weapons in the glaring light thrown by the humming ceiling fluorescent fixture. In many ways they marked turning points in his life, points of decision he’d barely understood at the time and still didn’t totally comprehend. One from his life in Laos, the other from the time when he’d stepped away from DEA and joined Metro-Dade. The wall racks held other weapons, some pistols, others knives, a few blades of various length and manufacture. He’d get to them, but he always started with the big magnum and the battered carbine. Wearing an old fatigue top with the sleeves cut off, jeans, and hair longer than it had been during his entire time with Metro-Dade, Castillo sometimes felt himself slipping back into earlier days. Days when he might have seen Ti Ti or Gus coming out of the foliage around the house, or Jess riding the waves just beyond the swaying palms. Reaching out, he pulled the carbine from the rack and carried it to the workbench against the far wall. His cleaning ear was laid out in precise lines, rods next to patches close to the Hoppe’s. With a practiced motion he hit the magazine release, dropping the loaded thirty-round mag to the bench top. Routines needed to be followed. He was just slamming the loaded magazine back into the carbine when he heard tires crunching over gravel along with the familiar whine of a Ferrari engine. Still, he took a moment. Closing his eyes. Centering himself. Pulling his mind back to South Florida and away from Laos. Only then did he set the carbine down and step out into the sunlight again. Jenny was all smiles as she jumped out of the black convertible, her thick hair flowing in the heavy air like liquid gold. “Martin! Thanks for letting us stop by.” “You two are always welcome. Remember that.” He smiled. You couldn’t help but smile when Jenny was in one of those moods. “It’s good to see you.” Sonny shut off the car and climbed out, pushing his own longer hair away from his face. “You’d think we’d both gone all hippy or something.” “Maybe we did.” “Yeah. You never know, do you?” He reached out, offering his hand. “Good to see you, Marty.” He nodded toward the shed. “Work day?” “You could say that.” He shook the offered hand, feeling Crockett’s strength in the grip. “If you don’t oil them, they rust.” “That’s why I went stainless steel. Less hassle.” Then Sonny’s eyes changed. “You been seeing them, too?” “What?” “Ghosts.” “A few.” He smiled again as Jenny touched his arm. “We’re old friends now.” “Sonny’s had his, too.” She looked into his eyes, searching. “Not the same, though. Yours are just checking in.” He nodded without speaking. Jenny’s moods flowed like quicksilver, reminding him all too often of some of the Hmong shamen up in the mountains. Strange little men with eyes that were either empty or full of the secrets of the universe. She even spoke like them. But he’d leaned long ago to trust without questioning. “That’s good to know. Why don’t we go into the house? I’ll make tea and we can talk on the deck.” There was a hint of a breeze on the deck. Just enough to shift the air and bring the tang of the ocean up to their noses. Jenny insisted on making the tea, leaving him and Sonny alone on the deck. He suspected that was her plan. “How are things at the House? I know Trudy’s enjoying working with the girls. It was good of you to think of her for that.” “Least I can do. Anyhow, I think they need her just as much as she needs them.” Sonny smiled, and Castillo could see the pain in his friend’s eyes behind the smile. “What’s really on your mind?” “I could never fool you, Marty. Jenny’s got one of her feelings again. This time she says it’s Caitlin warning something bad is going to happen. Not long after that some bozo shows up at Sanctuary asking about Burnett.” This time there was light in Sonny’s smile. “The bozo I ain’t worried about. Some old collar of Tubbs’ who might just be looking for a way back in the game. But the other…” “Yes. Her feelings are hard to ignore.’ Just like the Hmong back in the highlands. “Is it anything specific?” “Yeah. She thinks it’s trouble about the House.” Sonny looked out toward the sound of the waves. “She doesn’t quite come out and say it, but that’s how it feels to me. And we did have another one of those scumbags from the Post try to get in again. Only difference is this time he had a boom mic Stan said is FBI-grade.” “Did he say what he was after?” “Naw. They never do. Just start spouting First Amendment and wrapping themselves in the flag. We trespassed his ass and got a restraining order. And I had Tubbs boost security in that area. We’re also gonna do another audit and see where we have gaps that can be filled.” “You’re doing everything you can do.” Castillo let the sound of the unseen waves wash through him. Focusing his thoughts. “Based on what we can see. It’s what we can’t see that is concerning.” “You mean ghosts?” “No. Other adversaries. Our condition has changed, Sonny. We’re no longer lawmen able to shelter behind the badge and the courts. We’re private citizens now. That makes us easier to find. Easier to target.” “So you’re saying I should worry about the guy from Robbie’s.” “No. He’s not a major player. You’d remember him if he was. We were successful cops, Sonny. That means we made many enemies. Look how many tried to settle old scores with us even when we were cops. Now that we’re not…” “We’re easier targets. I get it.” “And our situation is more…complicated. We have enemies inside the force as well as outside it. Many of them are retired now, too, but some are still on the force.” “And they have long memories. Yeah, I get that too. So you think Jenny’s picking up on all that?” “No. But it means there could be many threats to us. And…” “And she hasn’t been wrong yet.” Sonny finished Castillo’s thought. “But I keep going back to that bozo Campbell from the Post. Where the hell did they get the money and the access to lay their grubby paws on gear like that mic? Campbell’s a nobody with no track record of axes to grind. The Post did get bought by a series of shell companies that lead right back to the heart of Cocaine Country, but that doesn’t fully explain it.” He paused. “Do you think the Company…” “No. They’re aware of our insurance, and for them the risk far outweighs any reward.” “Yeah. Hanging onto copies of all those files was a damned good idea. And with the money some of those cartels have buying one of those mics could have been done with petty cash.” “Yes. They can also buy information the same way.” Castillo shook his head. “How is the expansion going?” Jenny rejoined them just as Sonny finished telling Castillo about the new contracts. “…but I’m gonna ditch this bunch for the next phase. Too much of a pain to work with.” Jenny nodded, handing each man a cup of green tea. “And some of their crew makes the girls uncomfortable.” “Be sure to let Rico know. We’ll have them removed from the site.” Sonny shook his head. “I didn’t know that before.” “I only found out today. One of the girls told me when I was out with them on Vellamo.” “I’ll let Rico know now. Give me a second.” Turning, Sonny pulled out his phone and stepped back toward the house to make his call. Castillo smiled. “What did you want to tell me?” “I should never try to fool you, Martin.” She smiled and sipped her tea. “He told you about the warning?” “Yes. But there’s more to it.” “Yes. I mean…kind of. Caitlin didn’t know many of Sonny’s enemies, did she?” “No. They weren’t together long enough for that.” “So it almost has to be someone from her past. Someone who wants to get even with her.” “Yes. But I didn’t know her that well. Did you ask Angie?” “Yes. She said ‘little Blondie’…that’s what she calls me…was talking crazy.” Jenny paused. “But I think she knows something, Martin. She just doesn’t want to tell me.” “Angie is…complicated.” Castillo debated telling Jenny what he’d learned when he dug into the big woman’s background. No…this isn’t the right time. “Know that she was always loyal to Davies and now you and Crockett.” “But loyal isn’t always the same as trusting.” She smiled. “I know there’s more to it, and you’ll tell me when you’re ready.” “Davies was going to testify against powerful people. Powerful in their industry, at least. And that industry has ties to others that aren’t as legitimate. I think she disturbed a lot of plans, and some of those people have long and bitter memories.” “And you think they might…” “I don’t know.” Castillo barely tasted his tea as his mind looked back. “I know nothing about the music industry. We got the case because the DA wanted to curry favor with the U.S. Attorney, and I gave the assignment to Crockett because he was pushing too hard on another case.” His smile was thin. “I had no idea he’d end up falling in love. But we never knew the full details of the case. Only that she was a cooperating witness who needed to be protected until the trial.” She nodded. “He told me about that. And about Hackman.” “Yes.” Another mistake I should have prevented. Hackman should have died in the executioner’s chair. “Don’t blame yourself, Martin. No one can protect Sonny from himself.” Castillo nodded, then turned as Sonny came back to their side of the deck. “Did you get things taken care of with Tubbs?” “Yeah. He’d been hearing stuff from his people anyhow, so this just sealed the deal. Told him to run checks on all the workers if that’s what it takes. We might have to, anyhow, if that damned reporter keeps at it. Next thing he’ll likely try is slipping someone in that way.” “Or bribing a guard. Or one of the staff.” “Yeah. We’re on that, too. As much as we can be, anyhow.” Sonny shook his head. “We pay pretty well and everyone there is dedicated to the mission. But yeah, I remember Scotty Wheeler all too well, Marty. And Gorman. But we also can’t polygraph every employee every day.” “No. So you control the ones who are temporary and minimize the risk with the others. It’s a good plan. And Tubbs is a good judge of people.” “Yeah. And our doctors are pretty good about that, too.” Sonny shrugged. “In the end we just do the best we can and hope for the best, right?” Jenny nodded and touched their arms. “Why don’t we walk by the ocean? It will clear our heads.” Castillo set his empty cup down and smiled. “It’s a good time. The tide’s starting to come in.” Good surfing time. Jess always said the sea air now was good for the soul. Gordon Wiggins was thankful for his sunglasses. It kept Arthur Haskell from seeing the anger in his eyes. “If that’s the best you can do, Arthur, I’d suggest you start pricing out your organs so you can settle now.” It was hot outside the courthouse, and he could feel sweat starting to bead in the hollow of his spine. “Watkins assured me he’d gone through all their discovery filings.” “And you trusted that imbecile? Good God, man! You’ve slipped more than I thought.” And if I didn’t need your bloody contacts I’d wash my hands of you right now. But I can’t. “Don’t get all high and mighty with me, Gordon. Who’s been walking free the last few years?” “Point taken, Arthur. But that doesn’t help us now, does it?” Taking the man by the arm, Wiggins led him away from the front steps and into the shade. “Any luck with those contacts of yours?” “Some. I’ve got numbers for two or three. I’m going to start calling this afternoon. After I read Watkins the riot act.” Wiggins nodded, letting the man prattle on about his younger partner. It gave him time to organize his own thoughts and sort through what he’d learned. His time in the library had been productive, more so than he’d thought it would be at first. As expected there hadn’t been much on Davies aside from a wedding announcement and some scattered coverage in the gossip rags about her and this Burnett. But Frank Hackman had been a different story. In more ways than one. Hackman’s trial had been a sensation, and his sentence commutation by the governor even more so. Digging back through, following the man’s record of violent home invasions, his killing of a cop in front of his family, and all the publicity around both the trial and the clemency proceedings, one name kept coming up. James ‘Sonny’ Crockett. He’d been the partner of the cop Hackman had killed, one of the key witnesses at his trial, and, later, the one man pushing for the governor to set aside Hackman’s conviction and halt his execution. Even now Wiggins had to smile as he recalled the details. This Hackman had been good. No question. Anyone who could con a seasoned cop had to be good. And of course Hackman had returned to his old patch once he got organized and started in again. The press was rife with speculation about his involvement in the Davies murder, fed by numerous ‘unofficial’ sources in the police, and after a decent interval the man turned up dead on one of those small Caribbean islands with good hotels and no extradition services. The kind of place Wiggins had in mind once he finished his business in Miami. Wiggins had been a decent courtroom attorney early on, and it didn’t take much to connect the dots. The only thing connecting Hackman and Caitlin was a man who went by the name Sonny. Different last names, but Wiggins knew people who changed names more frequently than they changed their socks. It was part of his business. So he was confident Sonny Burnett and Sonny Crockett were the same person. When to share that, or if he should share it at all, was the problem now. “You aren’t paying a damned bit of attention to what I’m saying, Gordon.” “Of course I am, Arthur. Of course I am. You were complaining about friend Watkins. I quite agree. The man could be a problem. I trust you’re not telling him of our plans.” “Him? No. He’d fuck up a wet dream if it was up to him. I’ll know more once I speak with my contacts.” Lines appeared on Haskell’s forehead. “But there’s no telling how many of them are in prison or otherwise out of contact.” “Of course, Arthur.” Wiggins slipped into his ‘soothing’ voice, deciding at the same time to see if any of the people he knew had contacts of use. He suspected he knew the answer, but a few discrete questions would do. Then he thought back to something he’d seen going through the papers. “Do you know anyone on the Post?” “That rag?” Haskell snorted. “Of course I do. Can’t be a good defense attorney in this town without knowing at least one of the people on their staff.” “They seem to have a special interest in Caitlin’s House. It might behoove us to find out why.” “I’ll make some calls. But after their change in ownership I might not have the pull I used to.” “Change?” “Yes. The way I heard it, one of those ‘businessmen’ from Bolivia or somewhere bought it for one of his mistresses. They had a bit of turbulence in the upper ranks after that. I’ll see if my old contacts are still there, and if they want to do business if they still are.” Haskell’s smile was thin. “Some of that turbulence seemed to involve alligators, or so I was told.” “Of course. Our friends down South have their own…unique…approach to personnel matters.” Wiggins shifted, squinting through his sunglasses. It was time to get out of the humidity. “Call me when you learn something. I shall, of course, do the same for you.” Turning away from the building and the sweating face of Haskell, he waved for a cab. The sooner he got back to the hotel and a decent drink the better he’d feel. And he still owed himself that for solving the mystery of Sonny Burnett. Now he just needed to finish it. Stan Switek looked over at Lester Franz and grinned. “You still seeing that girl from Miami-Dade? Nikki, isn’t it?” Lester grinned and turned a light red under his dark beard. “Yeah…guess you could say that. She moved in with me last week.” “Well high five, man!” Stan lifted his hand and waited for Lester to smack his palm. They were sitting across from each other in the small workroom attached to the main security office in Caitlin’s House…something Rico had insisted on so they could repair and adjust gear without having to waste time taking it somewhere else. “Didn’t know it was gettin’ that serious. Guess I should have, since you asked her to one of your DJ Tango Foxtrot shows.” “Yeah. And she likes the beard.” Stan scratched his chin. “So does Gina. I was thinking about shaving, and she threatened me with one of those blue suede shoes.” “You still have those things?” “Hell, yes! Got the certificate of authenticity and everything. If you think I’m gonna part with a pair of shoes the King himself sweated in, you got another thing comin’, partner.” Grinning, Lester looked back down at the camera guts on the workbench in front of him. “Still can’t figure out why this one shut down. Got a couple more tests to run, but we might have just gotten a bad one out of the box.” He waited a moment. “So what do you think of that offer Rico made?” “I asked you first, man.” Stan smiled. He’d made up his mind the night before after talking with Gina. “But yeah, I like it. Gina and I are thinkin’ about starting a family, and a steady gig like this is something you don’t sneeze at.” “Yeah. Now that I’m with Nikki I’m starting to get that. I don’t know how much longer she’s going to stay on the force, and a deal like that would give us some stability so she didn’t have to take the first mall cop job that came along. That and…” “It’s like getting the band back together.” Stan looked up from his own pile of electronic entrails. “That’s a big part of what made me like it. It ain’t all of Team Elvis, but it’s not a bad start.” “You ever hear from those two knuckleheads?” “Yeah. Randy mostly. You know Dave. Why use one word when none will do? Anyhow, Randy said they’re comin’ down for some conference next week. Wanted to know if our table reservation’s still standing at Sanctuary.” “Cool. It’ll be good to see them again. It’s been what? Over a year?” “At least.” Stan let his mind wander back to that last party they’d had. Or what he remembered of that last party. “Well, well.” Lester’s voice went all serious. “I think I found our problem.” “Factory flaw?” “If you count getting shot by what looks like a high-velocity pellet gun as a factory flaw, then yes.” Lester peered down at the camera parts, pointing with his small screwdriver. “See? Right where the wires leave the box? Someone shot this when it was at the far end of its arc. And in just the right spot to kill the feed but not stop the camera’s motion.” “Avoiding an alarm.” Stan finished the thought, looking down at the part. “You think it was random? Some kid out there taking potshots at birds?” “Don’t see how. It’s a direct hit on that wire cluster. There’s always a chance, but…” “Assume it’s intention. Yeah, I agree. What sector was that one in?” “Our old friend Charlie 3.” “Campbell didn’t have a pellet gun on him, but maybe he brought one back. When did they pull that camera?” “Yesterday.” Lester looked at the log sheet. “Looks like they noticed the feed was off about an hour into the third shift. Video shows it was off for ten minutes before it was noticed. Of course it was just after shift change so they were making the rounds and all.” “Yeah. We’ll need to add an alarm for that.” “Simple. I’ll reprogram the system. Take me about five minutes.” Lester shook his head. “But I don’t get what’s so important about that sector.” “It’s the easiest one to get close to? Or maybe that moron just has a fetish for one of the trees out there.” Stan shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know. But we gotta find a way to cover it. Maybe a pole camera set back inside the grounds to watch the other cameras? Let’s work it out once we get the system set. I do wish we could pin this on that assclown Campbell, though. I’d love to send the Post a bill for the camera.” “You and me both, Stan. At least with the restraining order we can have him arrested if he tries it again.” “Yeah, but somethin’ about his act still bothers me. Why is he so set on this place? It’s no celeb rehab center. None of these girls have anyone who cares about ‘em except for maybe a pimp who looks at them as a source of income. That’s what bugs me. What the hell does that little worm get out of this? Or the Post, even?” “Good question, Stan. And one you and me can’t answer.” “I know, Lester. I know. Hard to stop bein’ a cop some days, isn’t it?” Stan shook his head and got to his feet. “Let’s get that computer stuff taken care of and then get back to this. I want that sector tight before we do anything else.” It was well after dark before Sonny turned the Daytona into the familiar parking spot at the marina and walked down to Tranquility. It had been a long afternoon after he’d dropped Jenny off at the boat and headed back to the House, and the drive back had let him think quite a bit of it through. He was glad Stan and Lester had agreed to the contract, though he was worried about what they’d found with the cameras. He had the same question they did...why the hell was Campbell so interested in that part of the perimeter, and in Caitlin’s House in general? He agreed with Stan and Lester. There wasn’t any kind of celebrity angle, and the House was one of the most successful rehab centers in the area. What about that would draw in the Post in general and Campbell in particular? But he also knew he didn’t have much time to worry about it. The renovations were about to start, followed by the actual expansion. He needed to stay focused on that, and let Rico deal with the security problems. If there was one thing he’d learned from the Task Force it was he couldn’t do everything himself. He had the right people in the right places…now he just had to get out of their way and let them do their work. Nodding to one of the old guys who were living out their days on their boats, he looked down the dock and smiled. Flickering in the stern of Tranquility was a single candle. Back when she still tied up Vellamo, she’d taken to lighting a candle on either her boat or the St. Vitus Dance so he’d know where she was when he came home. Now it just meant she was there waiting for him. And instead of being in the open seating area the candle was in one of the stern ports. Tranquility was big enough to carry a Zodiak inflatable, and Sonny usually kept one on the boat rack blocking the stern rail. He could see Jenny in the cockpit as he got close, her trim body highlighted by the bug-shrouded fluorescent lights of the dock. She was standing, looking out toward the thin line of red marking the far horizon. Clearing his throat, he grabbed the gangplank rail. “Permission to come aboard?” “Of course, silly. I was just thinking is all.” She smiled, reaching out for him as soon as he got close enough to touch. “How did the afternoon go?” “You didn’t miss anything. Just a whole bunch of staring at contracts and going over stuff I have to pretend to understand. Rico’s got security covered, and with Stan and Lester contracted on the payroll I feel a hell of a lot better about how we look from that side.” He stepped down into the cockpit, feeling the tug of his Smith & Wesson CS45 in its ankle holster. Smaller than the Detonics, he’d switched to it about the same time he stopped wearing a shoulder holster. It was still a .45 ACP, and accurate as hell. “The crews should start in the next couple of days, and then it’ll be a matter of checking them every day just in case the Post tries to slip someone past us.” “Why are they so interested?” “I’ve got Mindy and Trudy working on that. It’s almost like we got the Task Force together again. And with Dave and Randy coming in next week maybe we are.” “It will be good to see them again.” She ran her palm along his chest before turning back to the water. “Did Martin seem distracted to you?” “Castillo’s always distracted.” Sonny chuckled, then touched her shoulder. “Not really, darlin’. He seemed more like a man who realized he has to slow down and don’t quite know how to do it. I got to thinking about some of the stuff Tex said. It’s hard to make a warrior, sure. But I think it’s even harder to stop bein’ one. Especially if it’s all you’ve ever known. Marty’s been at war of some kind of another since the early ‘60s. Cuba, civil rights, Vietnam, Laos, all that. It’s been hard for me to step back. Hell, I can’t begin to imagine what it’s gotta be like for him. Even with Trudy.” “I want to help him, Sonny.” “I know. So do I. But the best way we can do that is just by bein’ there. You can’t push in on Castillo.” Touching her shoulder, he turned her to face him and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’m gonna go below. Maybe have a beer before bed. I sure would like some company.” Her smile let up her eyes. “So would I, Sonny.” Later he lay awake in the king-sized berth, hearing her steady breathing beside him in the darkness. He could feel the sea moving outside Tranquility’s hull, its restlessness equalling his own. Sighing, he eased out of bed and walked on bare feet to the gangway leading topside. Maybe some stars will do the trick. A light breeze pushed in from the water, bringing the sharp tang of salt to his nose. Stepping around coiled lines, Sonny made his way to the wheel and rested his arms on the polished brass, feeling the cool metal under his skin. Fighting down the urge to light a Lucky Strike. Or worse yet reach for the bottle of Black Jack. In some ways he missed the certainty of being a cop. No matter how many twists and turns it took, it was always a straight line from case to case. You solved it or you didn’t, and in either case you moved on to the next one. This was…different. Like walking along a boobytrapped path back in Nam, you never quite knew what to expect when you took that next step. Ears straining for the click of a pressure plate or the slight snag of a tripwire on clothing. He’d only patrolled the bush a handful of times, but the same fear existed in the towns and villes along the main roads. Looking up, he could barely see the stars, swallowed up by the blaze of light that marked Miami. Unlike Rico he’d always been ambivalent about the city…any city in point of fact. But the more it grew, the less he liked it. Too many people. Too many things to track. Too many ways shit could go south with no warning. But he couldn’t leave. Not with Caitlin’s House still undone. Shrugging, he turned to look away from the neon. It was Hector’s fault, really. Maybe not Hector personally, but the reminder of the past he represented. In the old days Sonny would have put on his Burnett suit and tracked the bastard down. Tossed him in a corner and pinned him with that empty Burnett stare. Go directly to the source of the problem and sort it out. Or have Stan and Lester put a box around the idiot. Tap his phones, follow him, do what it took to find out what the hell he was up to. But now, he had none of that. Just the almost fake star of a reserve officer and his carry permits. All fine once the shooting started, but useless before. “Did you want company?” Her voice was thick with sleep, and he was pretty sure she was either naked or wearing one of his old t-shirts. “Sure, darlin’. I’ll be right down. Just couldn’t sleep is all.” “I must be losing my touch.” “Naw.” He smiled, hiding a wince as he shifted and felt the scratches on his back pull. “Not a bit of it. I just…I don’t know. Mind won’t stop workin’, I guess.” He looked out over the water again. “Guess it’s more I know how they feel now.” “Who?” “The normal guys. The ones who see dealers on their corners and can’t do a thing about it. The ones who had to wait for us to show up and then wonder why we didn’t do our job.” He told her what he’d been thinking about Hector. “Now I know how they feel when they see the neighborhood bully and they can’t do a damned thing about it.” “Maybe Martin’s not the only warrior having trouble.” “Naw. It’s not that bad. I guess I just never thought about it before.” He slid his arm around her, letting his hand rest on her firm backside. “Let’s get below, darlin’. I don’t want to keep you up all night.”

The Jupiter 8 is not mine, but the Memorymoog is. My wife and I were blessed with great jobs.

One of the greatest songs of all time. Everything is sheer perfection with this song. I think this could work in “Definitely Miami” where Sonny is looking at Callie. Or maybe a scene with lots of girls in bikinis?

Today was my Season 5-ish look. Tasso Elba Island light sage blazer, Amazon Goodthreads Henley, Prana jeans, Nunn Bush shoes. Shoes are half-laced with some Xpand elastic laces so they are easy slip-on, kick-off. Tried them without any laces. Just too loose. I might try to get the tongue and eyelets stitched together in a way where you can’t see the stitching... We shall see. No shoulder rig. (Have had a few, never really liked them...) Glock 19 with RMR AIWB under the untucked shirt, along with the spare mag and Surefire light. Hair way longer than DJ’s ever was... The glasses are NOS Wayfarer 5024’s, exact same as Daytona365’s, probably from the same seller in Germany. Got them on Ebay for the same price. (I still have my black 5024‘s from high school, given to me by my then-girlfriend in 1986!) 5022’s are too narrow for me as well. Car is my ‘18 Camaro SS convertible. Black and Tan with silver wheels... Because, well you all know why.

Rock & A Hard Place? Hadn't seen this thread in awhile, so thought I'd check it out.

Very cool video and song, however I can’t hear any of Jan’s synth. Not sure if there is either no synth or it’s just really buried in the mix!

So far SOOO good !!! Thanks @Robbie C.

I can't believe I didn't see your work before ... Was great like always !

Tubbs. “Brother’s Keeper”

Thank you!!! I was listening to this the other day and thought I needed to post it in this thread, but I forgot to. This song should’ve been a bigger hit. So great. Only thing: I can’t think of a scene/episode that works with the lyrics.

LOL great work but now you’re the maniac pal with the location obession!

When Dadrian gets one he usually follows it up with another

“Sons and Lovers” teaser. This one and the previous were given away by the costumes for me.

Fair enough! Interesting how things look different in reality anyway - at first I thought they changed the glass tiles in the curved wall but they are exactly the same, the lightning used in this night scene made the difference!

Name the film....

Wow a big thanks to you and the Weinbergers for this effort, especially recreating the filming angles is amazing! True VICE fans! Also I an happy that my find has been finally confirmed! PS. Your last photo comparison with the stairs is incorrect VICE filmed this scene where the kid walks up from the outside, through the big window with the small glass triangle shaped roof visible a bit. Otherwise all recreations are very accurate!

This is one of my favourites, the melody is so beautiful. It's cool that some of these pieces were only used in one episode.

Very cool! I like it! I really like older VWs. I’ve always greatly admired the VW Cabriolets until 1993 or whenever they changed them. And I definitely agree about car colors being very plain nowadays. Another color you’ll see on a million cars is dark red, at least around here. Dadrian, that Maserati must have been expensive!

Amen! The worst episode of not only MV...but possibly of the television industry!

I’m still in the 2016 Maserati Quattroporte

My old VW camper van is a color called dove blue metallic. Blue used to be a far more common color in years past. You don’t see it a lot anymore. I read an interview with Bob Lutz, former CEO of GM and a real car guy, not a bean counter. He lamented the lack of color with cars today. He said three quarters of cars today are black, white, or some shade of gray or silver. That seemed like an exaggeration but I don’t think it is. I’ve pointed it out to my wife several times when we’re stopped at a crowded intersection. I’ll count 25 cars in those “colors” and maybe 4-5 in actual colors. Congratulations on your colorful purchase! I posted a couple of pictures of my van on this thread several years ago but it was covered in snow from a recent trip to the mountains. I still have it. It’s 32 years old now and my daily driver. Here’s a shot from the parking garage where I live and a cool print my wife made of it using some kind of photoshop app. The picture was taken while camping down in San Diego. It looks very blue!

If Missing Hours had been my first episode to watch I probably wouldn't be on this site right now! Glad you were brave enough to continue the series after that!

I just want to say thank you for banning politics and religion here. I am a very religious person, myself, but there are so many communities online where people are screaming at the top of their lungs about religion and politics. Especially Facebook, what a cesspool of politics and social issues! Everyone is all “think what I think or you’re dead to me”. What a nightmare! I love it here. I think most people here treat each other with respect.

I’m not a fan of new cars. Personally, I like cars from the 50s to 80s the best. My dream car has always been a 1957 Corvette. Maybe someday... I’ve also always had a soft-spot for older Jeep Cherokees. They remained about the same from 1984 to 2001 with little updates here and there. A couple years ago I found one in my favorite color, which is turquoise/bright teal/aqua-ish (anything in that range). I couldn’t believe I found a Cherokee in that color! I had to buy it! I’ve done a lot of work restoring/babying it. Some may know Wisconsin is not friendly to steel. I’ve done work to fix rust and the paint, etc. I try to take good care of her! While this color was popular in the 80s, it wasn’t very popular for automobiles until the early 90s I think? This Cherokee is a 1997. Anyway, I think the color works for a Miami Vice fan!

S3!!!!! White Glow era, superb neon scenes, blueish tones, dark scenes, consistent quality, great stories, the two Ferraris, a lot of Peter Gabriel's "So" album. I do know most will disagree!

Tango & Cash!!! Yet Kurt still has his Snake Plissken revolver.

As we and @C Glide always want to know exactly where scenes were filmed and not just approximately: All three scenes filmed here can be exactly pinpointed on these two pictures of the Greenburg Taurig interior atrium (Ground level, branch of a bank, pictures of July 2017) that show the same room, but from different angles (please take the lady with the white pants at the counter as reference point!). 1. Horowitz (agent) office and the plunge after the struggle with Switek. This was filmed in the corner next to the rounded glass block wall on the second level. When the plunge takes place we see a white diagonal crossbeam above Switek. This cross beam is there and pinpoints exactly where that took place, but view on it is accurately blocked by the blue middle column in one of the pics. 2. The gambling scenes (several gambling tables visible). In the background we see the elevators, overhead balcony and its pattern underneath and the glass block wall right of it. 3. The blue column in the middle of the room was also there when VICE filmed, but the column was white and they smartly filmed around it, so that it is hardly seen. In one short scene the broad side of the column is clearly behind Switek (when he talks to Kevin .... ...and this is exactly the only scene we cannot fully see on these 2017 location pictures because the column blocks our view: where Switek wants to stop Kevin from celebrating, right of Kevin is a straight glass block wall, left is kind of a bar. But as this scene was filmed with shot and countershot technique and Switek is standing on the ground level with the broad column side behind him, it is clear where Kevin and the straight glasswall was. P.S. the low white wall we see in some gambling scenes, e.g. right before the elevators, was obviously removed, as it is not on any of the pictures.

(LAST) UNKNOWN LOCATION: ENRIQUEZ HOUSE Extremely hard to find, as there is no exterior shot (the one used is from 1727 W27 Street, Sunset Island which has NOT the interior shown), but only lots of fast edits during the party with Robert Plant song and a short scene where Gina gets out of the jacuzzi. Both involve close-ups only. I guess the best (and only?) chance to find it is the uniquely shaped interior jacuzzi which is NOT in a bathroom, but laid low in the marble floor of villa with an atrium (there seems to be overhead natural light above the jacuzzi and rooms to both sides of the atrium). I attach a few pics with some unique features (uniquely shaped wall lightning, doors, floor pattern) shown in order to countercheck in case some of you stumble across a similarly looking indoor jacuzzi. P.S. I´ve already checked the houses near AJs home at 20251 NE 25 Ave (AJ confirmed that there was no interior filming at his parents´house, but reported that PMT seemed to know their neighbors) and have searched some realtor pics and google with jacuzzi related keywords already, but no find yet.

Hector Rendozo looked down at the shot glass of tequila and snorted. He’d been out almost three months, and the thrill of booze was already gone. Still, he knocked the shot back and waved a finger for another. He had to keep up appearances, after all. His feet hurt from the damned cowboy boots. Like wearing high heels, and I ain’t no damned bitch. But it was required these days, just like the tuxedos had been back before he went away. A man had to look the part, fit the role, or no one took him seriously. He’d learned that years ago, and was grateful to Jangles for bringing him up to speed on what had changed since he’d been away. Jangles, known to his mother and one or two sisters as Juan, downed his own tequila shot and grinned. “It is good to drink on a day like this. Don’t you agree?” “Any day is a good day for tequila, my friend.” Hector let the lie slide easily off his tongue. If he had to drink he preferred rum. But the price of the deal was often high. “But I’m tired of waiting. When is this friend of yours supposed to arrive?” “He should have been here fifteen minutes ago.” Jangles shrugged. “But what can you do?” “Find another woman. That’s what I can do.” Hector’s smile was genuine. He still wasn’t tired of women. Not after almost ten years behind bars. “But will those women lead you to Burnett? Or the other one?” Hector turned, feeling the tequila fanning his anger. “You weren’t the one who went down for that buy, Jangles.” “No. I know. But it’s not easy finding Burnett these days. No word for over a year. It’s likely he either finally got killed or changed his name and bought some island somewhere. Are you sure he’s the only way?” “Even in prison I never found anyone else who did business with Cooper. At least not more than once.” Hector stared down at his tequila. “At first I thought Burnett might be a cop, but there’s no way he could be. Not with everything he did. No cop would have been allowed to take down the Carrera organization like he did.” “You know about that?” “Word travels, my friend. Even in prison. No…there’s too much blood on Burnett for him to be a cop. But the other one…that Cooper. Him I wonder about.” “And now you can ask.” Jangles nodded toward the club door. “About time you showed up, Ramon.” In prison Hector would have wondered what gang had turned out Ramon, but out here he was learning what they seemed to call the metro-sexual look went over well with the ladies these days. Ramon’s clothes were just too tight for comfort, and he might even have been wearing eyeshadow. But he had a grin like a shark when he saw Jangles. “Juan! Long time no see, pal. Bartender, get me a Cosmo.” “Ramon, this is Hector. He’s the one I told you about.” Hector’s smile was thin. “A pleasure. Did Juan here tell you what I was after?” “Information.” Ramon’s face pinched as he tasted the drink. “Tastes like piss, but you can’t expect much in a dump like this. Let’s grab a table and talk.” Once they were seated and more drinks ordered from the strung-out waitress, Hector leaned across the table. “I don’t have time for games. Do you know Sonny Burnett?” “Burnett. Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in over a year. One mean son of a bitch, let me tell you. How else could he have taken apart two cartels? I also heard some talk he had a hand in blowing away those South American nutcases who tried to set up some kind of protection racket two years ago.” “So you got a hard-on for the guy. Is he still around?” “Look, Hector. I worked for him when he ran the Carrera organization. So while you were in prison writing home for more soap on a rope I was hauling loads for the man. Forty key loads. Twice a week, sometimes more.” Ramon leaned across the table, his eyes suddenly dangerous. “Don’t mistake the clothes for the man, amigo. It might be the last mistake you make.” Hector raised his hands. Shit. I gotta get this game down again. “My mistake, mano. Juan didn’t say you worked with Burnett. Only that you knew him.” “You think I’d tell Jangles shit like that?” Ramon laughed. “Some of the old-timers have long memories. And Burnett did leave one or two enemies alive.” “So what happened to him?” “Why do you care?” “It’s not Burnett I’m after. Not really.” Hector took a deep breath. He hated it, but he couldn’t see any other way forward. “It’s a guy he ran for from time to time. Before the Carrera and Manolo business, anyhow. Black guy from New York. Called himself Cooper.” “Why Cooper?” “I think he set me up to be busted. Hell, I think he might have been a cop.” Ramon grinned and sat back. “You know, Burnett thought the same thing. I was part of a crew he took to meet some dude at an old lighthouse. Black guy like you said, but he was posing as some kind of Island hotshot. Burnett took a shot at him and said he was a cop.” “The guy I dealt with was New York. No mistaking that. But I didn’t meet him and Burnett at the same time.” “So how…” Hector shrugged. “I had some weight I needed to unload. I knew Burnett from a load I’d run for the Mendozas and met up with him. He said he wasn’t into that side of the business, but that he’d heard of a guy who could handle the weight I had. Guy he’d moved weight for once or twice. Out of town guy named Cooper. It was fifty keys and the Mendozas weren’t buying. I needed to get rid of it fast, so I didn’t look too close at Cooper. Just called the number.” Now it was Ramon’s turn to shrug. “Might not be the same guy. Cooper’s not a rare name. But Burnett never forgot a face. If he dealt with your Cooper, he’ll know where to find him. And if he’s a cop, I’ll bet he’d like to help you even the score.” “So does that mean you can get in touch with him after all this damned dancing?” “I don’t know. I’ll make some calls, put the word out. But he ain’t been active for over a year as far as I can tell. That only happens when guys get out of the game, either on their own or because someone took them out.” Ramon grinned, and when he blinked Hector was sure he was wearing eyeshadow. “Meet back here in two days. With or without Jangles. I’ll know more then.” “And what will you want for this favor?” “Nothing, man. If Burnett’s still in the game I’ll be looking for a job. I made damned good money running for him, and that was even at the lower level. And if he’s out, at least I’ll know that for sure and move on. Maybe hire on with you, Hector. I heard about you. You’re a climber and no mistake.” Hector just nodded, waiting for Ramon to leave the table. After a minute the kid got up and headed over toward the bar. Jangles let out a long breath. “Man…I didn’t think the kid had gotten that weird.” “So far he’s the best lead we’ve got, so I’ll tolerate him for now. But you can bet I don’t trust that puto as far as my arm.” Hector finished his shot and glared at the empty glass. “You can stay here if you like. I’m gonna go get me a woman. Maybe two.” What the hell is this coming to? Bad enough I have to dress like a damned cowboy, but I’ll be fucked if I’m gonna dress like some cell block punk. Tossing a twenty on the table he got to his feet and headed for the door. The strip club they’d passed on the way to the bar was as good a place to start as any. Narrow daggers of sunlight coming through open portholes stabbed into Sonny Crockett’s eyes, waking him better than any buzzing alarm clock. They’d dropped anchor just off the coast, and he could feel the gentle motion of Tranquility as she moved with the waves. Jenny was still sprawled partway on him, her soft hair fanned out over his face. She whimpered as he shifted, sliding her hand over his chest before settling back down again as he eased out of the big king-sized berth. He didn’t want to wake her just yet. He made a cup of instant coffee in the galley, letting the smell fill his nose before taking the mug to the Memory Room and sinking into the sideboard couch. The night hadn’t been restful, and he looked at the pictures on the mahogany walls. Trying to find the peace that had eluded him in the darkness. The picture of Hector had churned up memories. Things he’d hoped he’d left behind when he dropped his papers. He hadn’t mentioned the man to Jenny, not wanting to worry her more than she already was. Whatever vibe she was getting had her good and spooked, and he didn’t want to add to the load she was already carrying. He wasn’t surprised someone would be looking for Burnett. It had been more common about a year ago, but players change and names fade. Especially as the drug trade spiraled into more and more violent cycles. Yesterday’s punk was today’s kingpin and tomorrow’s corpse of the day. What bothered him was the why of it. Hector had been in prison. Guys like that when they got out tended to have revenge on their minds. Or maybe the guy was looking to get back in the action. Rico was right…it had been his bust, not Sonny’s. Still, the idiot had started the slide show in his head. Starting with the dead eyes of the crazed Columbian Tommy Lowe had sent after Caitlin that first night on the water. Then the shocked disbelief in Hackman’s eyes when he saw the truth and knew Sonny was going to kill him. There were others, too…nameless faces from his time with Manolo and the Carreras. Once he would have reached for the Jack Daniel’s bottle when the dreams stopped, but now he knew better. “I knew you’d be up here.” Jenny’s long blonde hair draped over her shoulders, just touching the tops of her high breasts. “You had a bad night.” “Yeah. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” “I felt you leave.” She settled down next to him, her naked skin smooth and soft against him. “It was that man, wasn’t it? The one Robbie told you about?” “Yes and no.” Sonny took a sip of coffee. “He just kinda got things started.” “Who is he?” “Guy named Hector. That’s all I know.” He touched her thigh. “Seriously. That’s about all I know about him. He came to Burnett back in ’89 or so with some coke and I passed him off to Rico to make the bust. Burnett wasn’t a big dealer back then, and there was no way I could have him front the cash the deal needed.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t a big bust even back then. Hell, I barely remembered it until Rico said he took the guy down.” “So he’s not looking to get even?” “I doubt it, darlin’. More likely he’s tryin’ to get back in the game after he did his time and my name’s one of the few he knows.” He let his gaze slide to the picture of the Task Force. “We didn’t leave too many of the old ones out there.” “I know. But he’s not the only reason you had a bad night.” “No. He started it, and it just went from there. Too many faces and too many memories.” He touched her thigh again. “Like I said, I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Which ones are the worst?” “The ones I don’t know. Most of ‘em from my…when I was Burnett. They’re mostly just faces. No names with ‘em. No idea what they did. Just that I shot them.” He looked away from the picture, his eyes seeing nothing. “There aren’t many, really. Not as many as you’d think with the reputation Burnett has. But enough.” “They were all bad men.” There was no question in her voice. “Burnett is still you, Sonny. You don’t hurt people who aren’t bad.” “Yeah.” An image of Gordon Cavis, the kid he’d shot during the Monroe Jackson case, floated through his head. The kid had been part of a Chicago street gang, and given what he’d learned after looking at his juvenile record Sonny had no doubt the kid would have shot him without blinking an eye. But had he been born bad, or did someone make him that way? He’d visited Gordon in the hospital a few times, but a crush of cases and then Caitlin took priority. By the time the dust settled, including what Tubbs liked to call ‘the Burnett Incident,’ the kid was gone. Checked out of the hospital and vanished. Sonny liked to tell himself the parents had come down from Wisconsin and taken their son home, but his cop side know different. In all likelihood the streets, either those in Miami or back in Chicago, had swallowed him up. “We’re all surrounded by ghosts, Sonny. Sometimes they visit, other times they just watch.” She touched his arm. “But they don’t control you. Say hello and let them go.” She looked past him at the narrow porthole. “We should weigh anchor and get moving if we want to make that meeting this morning.” He smiled, knowing she was right. About everything. “Yeah. I’ll head up and get started. You might want to at least put some shorts on first.” He raised his hand. “I know there’s no one but me out here to see, but I remember what you said about rope burns…” She giggled, tossing her head so her hair floated behind her back like a golden cloak. “And we don’t want any of those. One last look and I’ll see you topside.” They made good time, tying up at dock at Caitlin’s House with almost half an hour to spare. Once they were ashore, Jenny stretched up and kissed Sonny lightly on the lips. “Go find Rico. I need to talk to Gina and then maybe Mindy.” He nodded, running his hand down her back to her backside. “I’ll be seeing you in a bit, darlin’. Don’t cook up any big plans with those two.” He found Rico sitting in his office, his attention split between the computer screen and a file open on his desk. His old partner smiled when he sauntered in. “Well, well. I’d say look what the gator dragged in but we know Elvis was always too damned lazy to drag his food.” “Yeah. He was. Gotta give the old boy credit where it’s due.” Sonny chuckled and set himself flop into a chair on the other side of the desk. “I wonder if he’s still around.” He paused, searching Rico’s eyes. “Out with it, partner. You’re still thinking about him, too, aren’t you?” “Hector? Yeah.” Rico shrugged. “Just when you think you got the Job behind you it comes up and bites you in the ass.” “He was your bust, not mine. Remember anything special about him?” “Naw. I didn’t even remember him until last night. Stared at that damned picture for almost an hour until it came to me. Just your average coke chump trying to push his way up in the game. Maybe a bit nastier than some, but not in the big leagues. I didn’t think he was due to be released for a couple years yet.” “You know how good behavior works, Rico.” Sonny chuckled. “I went through it all last night, and I don’t think I’d heard squat about the guy before that deal, and not a peep after he got busted.” “Same here. Hell, he was probably lookin’ for Burnett because he’s lookin’ for work.” “Same thing I settled on.” Sonny shrugged, stuffing Hector into his mental locker. “What’s going on today that couldn’t wait?” “It’s more of an in-house update.” Rico closed the folder and leaned across the desk. “Mindy and Trudy got started on the Post and that reporter. Mindy won’t tell me what they found, but she said they already got some interesting stuff.” “Not married two years yet and she’s already keeping secrets?” Sonny grinned. “Not lookin’ good, partner.” “Oh, she’s lookin’ fine as always.” Rico chuckled. “Let’s get up there so you can see for yourself.” Settling into his chair at the head of the table, Sonny’s mind went back to those meetings on the tenth floor with the Task Force. Rico sat to his right, Gina and Mindy to his left. The biggest difference was Jenny, sitting just off to one side like she didn’t belong. When he motioned for her to move to the table, she shook her head. “It’s business now. Different business.” Nodding, he turned back to the table. “Ok. What do we have?” Mindy shuffled some papers and cleared her throat. “The Post was in trouble until about three years ago, when they were bought out by an LLC registered in Luxembourg.” “Seriously?” She nodded. “Trudy and I managed to trace some of the LLC’s holdings back through Panama before we lost the trail. We don’t have the resources we used to, and public records are pretty theoretical once you hit some parts of the world. But the profile fits one of the bigger narco syndicates.” “I get them needing to launder money, and given how much they rake in they gotta aim big. But a paper?” Gina nodded. “It makes sense, Sonny. What better way to distract the public during a big case than to run topless celebrity photos? Or a nice, juicy piece hinting at some kind of wrongdoing on the part of the prosecution or cops involved? The Post was always big on innuendo and low on proof.” Mindy smiled. “And they can send ‘reporters’ sniffing around places without a second glance.” “How much control does this LLC actually have?” “They own the operation, but don’t seem to have made any major personnel changes. Some in the accounting department, but other than that…” “They wouldn’t need to.” Rico chuckled. “Just encourage some of the chumps already working there and you’re good to go.” “That’s what we think they did.” Mindy flipped through her notes. “Which brings us to Jimmy Campbell. He thinks he’s Woodward and Bernstein rolled into one, but he’s really not much more than a hack. Got fired by all the major papers in the metro area before the Post took him in.” “I put in a couple of calls to some of my new friends,” Gina said. “Funny how nice the press can be now that I’m not a cop and have a position with a rehab facility. Anyhow, none of them would go on the record but they all said little Jimmy was let go because he was loose with the truth in most of his stories. Fact-checkers hated him. One guy said the staff took to calling his stories toilet paper because that was all they were good for. But they also said he had a knack for headlines and lurid crap that would get people to look at his stories.” “So he’s a dream date for the Post.” “Something like that. But none of my sources had any idea why he’d be so hot for us.” “Whatever it is, it’s gotta be big.” Rico leaned back. “Chump don’t seem to care about breakin’ the law.” “Did he have any special beat before the Post? Hell, even with the Post?” Sonny looked at Gina and Mindy. “Maybe he’s got a thing for hookers and we reformed his favorite girl.” “He did crime for the Tribune and was in the news pool for the Sun Times. What we could find of his by-lines didn’t look too impressive. A couple of ‘exposes’ that were just lurid hooker tales with the Tribune, and one of them got him fired. Seems a city councilman didn’t care for his daughter being mis-identified as a hooker.” “It’s obvious someone’s got his back, though. With that microphone and all. Chump must be selling a damned good package to someone at the Post.” “Good work. Keep on it. We need to stay ahead of this and not end up playing catch up.” Sonny looked around the table. “If this was the old days I’d have Stan and Lester lay in wiretaps. But we can’t do that any more. So I want extra security on the perimeter. Rico, have those two sweep the phones daily now. Just because we play by the rules doesn’t mean Campbell or the Post will. In fact, I’d lay odds they don’t. See if Stan thinks there’s areas we’re missing, and if so have him plug the gaps. Those two have forgotten more about surveillance than we’ll ever know.” “You got it, boss.” Mindy smiled as she lapsed back into old Task Force language. “Sorry, but it feels kinda like…” “We’re back on the job. Yeah, I know. In some ways I guess we are. Just stay sharp, people. Mindy, let Trudy know what’s up when she comes in. I’m guessing she’ll check in with you first before she meets with Gina.” He looked around. “Did anyone have anything else? Even if it’s just general?” It was half an hour before Sonny found himself out on the familiar deck looking out over the yard. Memories flooded over him as he watched the green grass shifting like water in the light breeze. Most of them circled back to the afternoon when he and Cait had agreed to try to make it work…and when he’d decided to leave Metro-Dade to be with her. “Just a few cases to wrap up,” he whispered to the humid air. “That’s all it was. And we were so close…” “When did you want to head back?” Jenny’s soft voice snapped him back to the present like a kick to the head. “We can do now, darlin’. I was just taking a moment. Always did like how the yard looked from here.” She smiled, taking his hand. “I know what this spot means to you, Sonny. It’s ok. But we need to be here, not. Not there, then.” “I know.” He paused. “I think we might have to stay at the marina for a few days. Those contracts should be ready and the renovations are gonna start. I don’t want to be too far away when that happens.” “Neither do I. I can help with the sailing program.” She smiled, but he could see the sadness in her eyes. “Some of those girls have never even been on a boat before.” “You’ll be great, darlin’. Just like Trudy is.” “We should go see Martin. He must be lonely with her working here.” Sonny smiled. Jenny never called Castillo ‘Marty.’ It was always his full name. Like he’s her older brother. But they’re both so in tune with whatever it is they hear they could be brother and sister. “Yeah, I expect he is. He’d never admit it, though. We can drive out there tomorrow afternoon. I’ve got to go over and hopefully sign those contracts in the morning, but we’ll be done by noon.”

Looking out over the water from his hotel room balcony, Gordon Wiggins was painfully aware of the passage of time. Prison does that to a fellow, I suppose he thought as he took a sip of scotch. Haskell had left over an hour ago, but he was still turning their talk around in his head. He hadn’t expected Burnett to hire a bunch of ex-cops to run the facility’s security, but he’d managed to hide his surprise when Haskell revealed that little detail. That complicated things, but only a bit. It just meant he’d have to be extra careful when picking from Haskell’s associates. On the other hand, it also meant he’d have more options. If anyone had more enemies than drug dealers, it was cops. What he didn’t like was the idea of this Watkins running around drunk out of his mind and whining like a schoolgirl who’d been told she couldn’t go on the class trip. For his plan to work there needed to be quite, careful work, and he didn’t think the man could handle any part of that. But Haskell didn’t seem likely to cut him loose. Misplaced loyalty. Or maybe Arthur’s taken a shine to the boy. Never figured him for that sort, but you never know. Either way he knew he needed to be ready to deal with Roger Watkins. Turning, he stepped back into the air conditioning and slid the glass door shut behind him. The room’s simple desk was covered with newspapers, and he’d been going through the local channels ever since he got back to his room. Looking for the perfect conduit for his plan. Originally he’d thought to go with television, but the more he looked at it the more he was convinced good old newsprint was the way to start things off. Lurid headlines and grainy photos stuck with people more than a blonde with fake tits reading something off her notes during the ten o’clock news. Start it in print, then let it make its way to the screen. That’s the best way. Grimacing, he turned away from the papers. It still bothered him…how close he and Fremont had been to pulling it off. Getting rid of Caitlin Davies and leaving her drug-running husband to take the fall. Of course, that fool Tommy Lowe had thought the same thing. Pausing, Wiggins looked down at the papers without seeing them. Whatever happened to the cop who saved her life? The more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him. The bitch would have been under police protection the entire time she was getting ready to testify, and likely for a time after. He’d even seen the man a time or two… “I’m an ass!” He slammed the glass down hard on the desk, sloshing scotch on two of the newspapers. “Burnett IS the damned cop! Same damned hair, same smug face. Of course they’re the same person.” He started to smile, then stopped. Things had just gotten much more complicated. First he had to be sure. Not just suspect, but know. Then he had to use the information. He didn’t want the man dead. He wanted him to suffer. To see his woman’s legacy destroyed before his eyes. That meant if Burnett and the cop were the same person he couldn’t tell a living soul. Especially not Haskell. Friend Arthur would blab it everywhere. He couldn’t help himself. And any hoodlum who did business with Burnett would want to kill the cop. And I can’t have that happen. If the plan was going to work, Gordon Wiggins had to be in control. He’d spent years figuring it out, after all. Caitlin’s legacy clearly meant something to Burnett or whoever this man was. It needed to be methodically and systematically destroyed. Any peasant could burn down a house. It took a skilled and thoughtful man to gut everything the house represented and leave it standing as a reminder. And that meant paying extra attention to the names Haskell brought back, along with a quick visit to an old acquaintance down on the edge of Little Havana. A handgun might be in order in case Watkins caused problems. But there was also the problem of Burnett to solve. And that meant a trip to the library. Likely more than one library. Looking for clues. There had to be something, especially if he looked at the man who’d killed Caitlin. Some slug called Hackman if he remembered right. There had to be something there…something that led him to kill her. And it had to be connected to either Burnett or the cop…both if it was the same man. And if it was there, Gordon Wiggins knew he’d find it. Ricardo Tubbs looked at the application, then at the background check form tabbed into the other side of the personnel folder. “Says here you did ten years with Miami-Dade. Patrol, then Robbery.” He looked up and grinned. “But it don’t say why you dropped your papers. You had a good record. Clean. No shootings. IAD wasn’t following you home. Why’d you leave?” He’d already put in a call to a sergeant in Robbery and knew part of the story, but he figured the lady sitting across from him wouldn’t know that. What someone didn’t say in an interview was often more important than what they said. The blonde took a deep breath. “It’s like this, Mr. Tubbs. I was tired. Tired of running in the same addicts for the same jobs week after week. We’d book ‘em, the DA would wave his magic wand, and they were out on the street again. It was worse after crack hit. No programs to get ‘em in even when they wanted to and we wanted to. The girls were the worst. I’ve got a five year old daughter, and it just…” “Yeah, I hear you.” Rico nodded, checking off a box on the sheet. The sergeant had said she was a cryer and not tough enough for the street. Her answers confirmed what Rico already thought about the sergeant. “And it don’t help when your boss is an asshole.” “How…oh yeah. You were on the force.” “Yeah. And Sergeant Hasko was a pain in my ass, too. Says here you were Army before joining the force.” “Six years with the First Infantry Division. Kansas, Kuwait, and Germany. I was an MP.” “Solid.” Another box was checked after he flipped to the copy of the woman’s DD214 and verified her conditions of discharge. Gotta thank Sonny for showing me how to do that. “I’m still waiting on the drug screen, but assuming that comes back good I’d like to offer you a job here. You’d start on days, at the front desk. Lets you learn the routine and gets the patients used to seeing you. After that you’ll have the chance to move to the new ward.” “Thank you, sir!” She jumped to her feet and pumped Rico’s hand. “I…you won’t be sorry.” “I’ll call you when we get the report back and you can come in and start the paperwork. Shouldn’t be more than a day or so.” Rico returned the handshake and didn’t sit down until the woman left his office. Then he smiled and shook his head. It always gave him a warm feeling in his chest when the people he hired reacted that way. Still, there was the other side. Reaching out, he picked up the phone and hit a programmed number key. “Yeah. I’m hiring her. We need more females for the new ward. Don’t call the other two I marked for a day or so. I need to see where we stand in terms of vacancies.” He gave the folder one last look before closing it and tossing it in his ‘OUT’ basket. From there it would make its way to the bowels of HR where terrible things would happen to it. They were slowly computerizing the system, mostly with Lester’s help, and Rico couldn’t wait for the day when those folders disappeared entirely. Leaning back in his chair, he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Gina just after he came in. Trudy had called, accepting the art therapy position. It wasn’t a paying job exactly, at least not now, but it would be good to see Big Booty Trudy around Caitlin’s House. And he knew the girls would take to her. Trudy spoke their language, and her passion for art and music both required no words. And it didn’t hurt that she could and would kick any of their asses if they acted up. It had been good seeing Robbie. And just going out with Sonny and Jenny. Rico thought he’d done good adjusting to life without the Job, but he found himself missing the little things like that. Drinks after work. Sitting and bullshitting during a prolonged stakeout. He missed some of the rush, nowhere near as much as Sonny did, but it was those little things he missed more. Even Stan’s fantastic coffee in the morning. “I gotta find a way to get him on the regular payroll,” he muttered as he reached for another folder. The phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. Looking over, he saw it was the security main desk. “What’s up?” “We got someone out at the edge of the property, Mr. Tubbs.” Being called ‘Mr. Tubbs’ was part of the job he was still adjusting to. “Solid. They over the line?” “Not yet. From the camera it looks like one of those reporter types with the big-ass cameras.” The security desk man chuckled. “Those sensors those two goofballs put in are the real deal. I’ve been tracking this guy since he got within fifty yards of the fence.” “He look like he’s gonna try to jump the wire?” “Not sure. He’s in sector Charlie Two, so he’d have to if he wants pictures of anything other than the while wall.” The guard paused. “And there he goes.” “Send one of the mobile teams. I’ll meet ‘em there.” Hanging up, Rico shrugged on his suit coat and headed for the door. It had been over two months since they’d had a fence-jumper, and he wanted to see if the chump was a repeat customer or someone new. The Jeep rattled to a stop just at the edge of the cleared path surrounding the wire fence surrounding Caitlin’s House. Rico smiled when he saw the rough dirt path on both sides of the fence. It had been Stan’s idea to take a page from the old East German playbook and run the fence inside the property instead of right on the edge. That way you were on Caitlin’s House property as soon as you set foot on the cleared path on the far side of the fence. Rico’s security force was almost two distinct units: one set of guards for interior security in the units and another for patrol outside. The ones he picked for outside duty were usually big, quiet, and intimidating…just like the two surrounding a pale skinny dude draped with enough cameras to sink him if he fell in a two foot-deep puddle. The punk was waving his arms and shouting, and there was something familiar about him. It clicked just as he shut off the Jeep. “Jimmy Campbell. As I live and breathe! And you’re still trying to lecture my people about the press. How many times do I have to tell you this is private property?” Jimmy had a thin face dotted with what were either zits or freckles and watery blue eyes. “An’ how many times I gotta tell you, Dubbs, the public has a right to know…” “That stops right at the dirt path on the other side of this fence. And the name’s Tubbs, chump.” He turned to the guards. “Take this rat to the main gate and hold him until the police get here. We’re pressing trespass charges this time.” “Wait! You can’t…” “Oh, but I can. I’m sick of your attitude.” Rico could feel the anger turning inside him. “How would you feel if your daughter was trying to get clean and you saw her picture smeared across the Post front page with a headline calling this ‘Hooker Hotel’? And yeah, I saw that issue, chump. We’ve got footage of you jumping that fence at least four times. Today is the day you pay for that.” He turned to the tall guard who’d once been a state trooper. “Call it in when you get there. I’ll have Legal draw up the papers.” Back in his office, he made the call to Legal and then punched in Sonny’s number. He smiled when he heard the familiar voice. “Crockett.” “Yeah, it’s Rico. I’m having that chump Campbell from the Post arrested on trespass charges. He jumped the Charlie Two fence again and trotted his old ‘right to know’ act again.” “Good. That moron’s got a hard-on for the House. You let Legal know?” “Yeah, and my people are putting the package together right now. Tapes, photos, copies of the warnings we sent to him and the Post. The whole deal.” “Good. I’d let Dr. Jessup know, too. The Post will run some shitty headlines and we can expect questions.” “Yeah, and she looks better than either of us do on camera.” Rico smiled. “I’ll read Gina in, too.” “Good man. Have Legal look into some kind of restraining order as well. I don’t want that piece of trash on our property again.” There was a pause. “I gotta run. Jenny’s got some budget stuff she wants me to look over…” “Solid. I just wanted to read you in first, partner.” “Yeah. I’ll be by this afternoon to go through those tapes from Robbie’s. See if we can spot anything.” Ten minutes later he’d called everyone who needed calling, and leaned back in his chair with a low sigh. Miami-Dade was about five minutes out according to the front gate, and there’d be more paperwork to sign and trees to kill once they showed up and took possession of Campbell. Still, something Sonny had said was still rattling around in his head. Why were Campbell and the Post so interested in Caitlin’s House? Reaching out, he hit the button for Mindy’s extension. “Hey, baby. Can you drop over here for a second?” No matter how many times he saw her, Mindy still took his breath away. Her black pencil skirt and deep blue silk top set off her red hair to perfection, and she smiled as she followed his eyes. “I see you like my choices.” “Always, lady. Looked good this morning, looks better now.” He smiled. “Anyhow, I got a coupla questions for you.” He told her about Campbell in short words. “Sonny mentioned it, and now I wanna know. Is there any reason he or the Post would have such a hard-on for us? I know the House got some press early on, but it was mostly good if I remember right. But the Post…” She nodded. “They’re mostly a tabloid, right?” “Yeah, but most of them have no attention span. They run from one manufactured story to the next. But these cats…” “It feels like old times. I’ll put some intel together. Trudy’s gonna be by later today. Maybe she can help.” “Solid. I’ll check with Switek and see if he can figure out anything from the junk the chump was carrying. He had the usual cameras with the telephoto lenses, but there were a couple of gadgets I didn’t recognize. We took pictures, mostly when the chump was shouting at the uniforms.” “I bet that went over well.” “Cuffed and stuffed.” Rico chuckled at the memory. “Let me know what you find out.” “Only if you buy me dinner.” “Solid. Downbeat’s rolling out a new menu and I bet we can talk them into letting us try some of it ahead of time.” The smell of her perfume lingered after she left, and Rico just let the memories wash over him. Then he frowned, remembering the guys from Robbie’s club. If Stan showed up before Sonny he’d have the big guy work his magic. It was likely nothing, but Rico wanted to be sure. Burnett had been a name to conjure with not too long ago, and in some corners memories died hard. Even his own. There were nights, far fewer now, he still snapped awake. Hearing those words. ‘I know you. You’re a cop’ followed by a gunshot. He understood what had happened to Sonny, and the rational side of him accepted it and also knew if Sonny had really wanted to kill him he would have. Still, there was that corner of him that wouldn’t let that memory go. In the moments after he’d snap awake he understood how Stan must have felt every day for years when Sonny came into the squad room back at OCB after Larry Zito was murdered. The buzzing of his phone broke into his thoughts. “Stan’s here.” It was the main gate guard, a big former deputy marshal. “Shall I send the photos from that little dipshit back with him?” “Yeah. Thanks.” Stan was laughing when he came into the office. “Man, you should see one of the pictures they have of that idiot! Makes him look like a squirrel on crack!” “Yeah. I’ll bet.” Rico waved Stan to a chair. “Got two things for you, big guy. One, can you make out anything about his equipment from those pictures? And two, can you clean up some surveillance footage for us?” “His gear’s easy.” Stan flipped through the folder of photos he’d brought from the guard shack. “Mostly garden-variety cameras and stuff.” He paused. “Until you get to this. He’s got a top-grade boom microphone here. The kind of thing you don’t usually see people using outside of our old circles.” “So police-grade?” “Try guys in tan Ford grade.” Stan chuckled. “I’d have to pawn my original Elvis ‘viva Las Vegas’ jacket and the blue suede shoes to even get to borrow one. How this punk got his hands on one…” “Is a very good question. I doubt if the Post has pockets that deep.” “They might.” Stan shrugged. “What can I say? They’ve got a good horoscope column in section C. Anyhow, they wouldn’t have until about six months ago. They got bought out by someone. Don’t know who, but they started running more of those ‘which celeb’s sleeping with the maid or pool boy’ stories than they used to.” “Any idea whose money’s behind it?” “If I had to guess I’d say narco cash. Gives them an outlet and a way to gather intel without anyone noticing. Or one of ‘em might have bought it for his latest squeeze. The money those dudes have…” “Yeah.” Rico rubbed his temples. Another thing for Mindy to dig into. “And now we got this footage.” “He give it to you on CD?” “Yeah.” “Cool.” Stan pulled a laptop out of the backpack slung over his left shoulder. “Lester set this up so I can do some stuff in the field. Saves time and shoe leather, let me tell you.” He waited while the machine booted up and then hit a button opening the CD tray. “And now…presto! Do we have to search for anyone?” “Naw. Robbie said it was set to start right where the chumps we’re interested in come on camera. It’s not much footage, and the quality’s kinda low.” “Tell me about it.” Stan squinted at the monitor, his fingers roaming the keyboard as he tapped in commands and fiddled with the small black pad in front of the keys. “That’s got it. Man, he needs to get a new system. Tell him I’ll give him the friends and family discount. It’s like the thing was filmed underwater in a swamp.” He fiddled a bit more and then sighed. “That’s about as good as it’s gonna get. Want me to save ‘em as images and send them to you?” “Yeah. Sonny should be by this afternoon and we can look ‘em over. But do either of them look familiar to you?” “Not the smaller one. But the big guy with the bad gold chains? He kinda does. I’ll show this to Lester and see if it shakes anything loose with him.” Stan chuckled. “He’ll just say one day the computer will do all this for us by recognizing their faces when it’s compared to a database or something.” “Yeah. That’ll be the day.” Rico shook his head. “Look, I need to you have another look at that Charlie 3 sector. See if there’s anything else we can do over there electronics-wise. And I’ve been meanin’ to ask. What would it take to bring you and Lester on staff officially?” “Seriously?” “Yeah. This is gettin’ more serious by the day, and we need counter-surveillance support more than ever. You two are the best I know, and Sonny and Jenny only want the best here.” “I’ll talk it over with Lester, but I’d say you could just bring us on with a long-term exclusive contract or something fancy like that.” Stan ejected the CD and started shutting down the laptop. “The images are saved on that disk. Robbie was using one of those new disks you can write to as well as read.” “So you’d still be your own thing…” “Yeah. It’s nothing personal, Rico. You know that. But, hell…we built Roach Sweepers up from nothing. I’d really hate to see it just go away.” “I get it, big guy. And I bet Sonny will, too. Check with Lester and let us know. But the offer’s there no matter what shape it takes once the lawyers are done with it.” “I appreciate it, Rico. Now I’d better go look that stuff over and see if we can plug any holes. If this guy’s got access to one of those mics it changes the threat profile. If there’s one thing I learned from Castillo…” “Plan for the worst. Yeah, I know.” Once Stan was gone, Rico fed the disk into his desktop computer and opened the saved images. But he couldn’t focus on them. He was still wondering about that microphone. What the hell did that chump want to listen in on here? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t like things not making sense. It was almost two before Sonny got to the office, but Rico didn’t really notice the time passing. He called Mindy and added the Post to her list of things to dig into, and then forced his attention back to security questions. By the time Sonny blew in he was ready for a break. “Stan have any luck with those images we got from Robbie?” “Yeah. Come on over and have a look. Detail’s better on this monitor than the big one.” He could smell the sea on Sonny’s faded green Henley as he came around the desk. Slipping his Ray Bans into the collar of his shirt, Sonny leaned in and stared for a long moment. “There’s something about that dude. Can’t quite pin it down, though. Something familiar.” “Yeah. Try this one.” Rico clicked the mouse and brought up the next image. The same one Stan had reacted to. Sonny stared for a long moment. “Hector Rendozo. Went by Hank in ’88 and ’89.” Rico snapped his fingers. “Now I remember the chump. Looks like he’s bulked up a bit since then.” “Prison weight rooms do that for you.” Sonny grinned. “He got busted back in ’89.” “Yeah. By me.” Rico shook his head. “So why’s he looking for Burnett?” “I arranged the transport, but wasn’t in on the bust. Maybe he’s looking to start up again now that he’s out. I thought he landed a dime sentence.” “There’s always good behavior.” “Or something.” Sonny frowned. “I’ll just have Robbie keep an eye out. Once he finds out Burnett’s out of the game odds are old Hank will drift off looking for other runners.” “Yeah.” Rico kept staring at the picture, annoyed at first that he hadn’t recognized Rendozo right off. But ’89 had been a busy year, and Rendozo had been a chump player. Scraps from the Mendoza table if he remembered right. “I don’t remember Hank running with anyone special.” “Some cousin maybe.” Sonny chuckled. “Hell, they all have cousins. Anyhow, about this visitor out by Charlie 3.” “Yeah.” Rico slid the pictures over as Sonny settled down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Jimmy Campbell. Our favorite chump from the Post. He had their usual clutter of cameras and then this.” He pointed to the picture of the boom mic. “Stan says it’s tan Ford grade. Expensive as hell and hard to get. He also said the Post had a change of ownership a few months back. He thinks narco money but isn’t sure. I’ve got Mindy looking into it. And Campbell, too.” Sonny leaned back in the chair, and Rico could see his eyes shifting into their strange middle distance focus. The Burnett focus. “I never got why the Post was so interested in us from the get. Come to think of it, I think they had a thing for Cait, too. Always trying to smear her. Even before I came into the picture.” “I’ll have Mindy check that, too. With Trudy helping out now those two should knock it out in no time.” “Good. Did you talk to Stan about coming on full-time?” “He’s interested, I think. But he wants to talk it over with Lester and it would be more of a contract kinda thing. He doesn’t want to give up his business.” “Yeah. I get that. Last thing I’d want to do is take that away from Stan. Call it exclusive retainer or whatever.” He shook his head, and Rico saw the eyes shift focus again. “But we can’t get too deep down this one, Rico. The new wing’s important, and the expansion after that. Money’s not a problem, not after Jenny showed me the budget and state of the foundation.” He chuckled. “It’s all Greek to me, but it makes sense to her. But we gotta stay focused on that. No matter how many warnings Jenny gets.” “I hear you, partner. Hired another female guard today. She’s a former MP and bumped heads with that asshole sergeant in Miami-Dade Robbery. That means once she’s trained we’ll have enough females to staff the new wing properly.” “I know that’s a pain in the ass, but I think Dr. Sanchez is right. After what some of the girls who will be on that wing have been through…” “Better to keep the men away. I ain’t arguing there, partner. Just makes it harder to staff with our standards.” Rico felt some of the old anger rising. “But I ain’t lowering standards an inch. And if that means I have to have one or two men on that wing to hit the target…” “I know, Rico. And I got your back. Catalina knows the score, even if she likes to forget it from time to time. I think she forgets sometimes that pimps see these girls as property, and some of ‘em aren’t shy about trying to reclaim their property.” They spent the next half-hour going over the security projections for the next year. Finally Sonny stretched and shook his head. “Sounds like you got things under control, Rico.” “So long’s we move slow and steady I can keep up quality hiring.” He grinned. “Seems like we got a rep with local agencies now. Thing is we gotta watch out for the chumps with records or who got kicked off a force for one reason or another. Every batch of applications I get has at least two or three like that, and it’s goin’ up as budgets get cut.” “Let me know if it starts getting tight. I’d rather slow things down than stretch things too far and have some kind of problem. Keep me in the loop about that Post thing, too. I’ll drop by Legal before I head out and make sure they’re on top of the trespass filings and restraining order.” He smiled. “And tell Gina she might be fielding some nasty calls for a few days once they start screaming about ‘freedom of the press’ and all that.” Rico nodded. It all made sense, but Sonny mentioning Jenny got his mind working again. He needed to be on his game now, and in a world that was dramatically different now that he didn’t have a badge. “We’ll handle it, Sonny.” “Never had a doubt, Rico. I’ll be by tomorrow for the staff meeting and then we can hammer out the details of the contract between us and Roach Sweepers.” Left alone with the hissing HVAC, Rico turned and looked out the window at the manicured grounds. It was after two, so he knew somewhere in the building Mindy and Trudy were putting their heads together to work on the problem he’d handed them. Still, he couldn’t shake one thing. Turning back to his monitor he opened the picture Stan had enhanced and stared at it again. Hector Rendozo. What the hell is it about that chump that seems so damned familiar? He kept staring at the blurry, pixilated face on the screen. What the hell is it?

Ricardo Tubbs waited until they were downstairs to reach out and touch Mindy. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be those two chumps right about now.” “No. Especially if Jenny catches up with them.” “You really think she’d…” “In a heartbeat, Rico. She’s very protective of people she loves, and there’s some kind of bond between her and Caitlin. Or Caitlin’s memory.” Mindy shrugged. “My gran might have have been able to explain it. One of those old Irish things is what she said. But Jenny sees this as those two stealing from Caitlin, and I think feeding them to the sharks was only one of the options she considered.” “Just when I think I got a handle on her…” “You can’t get a handle on Jenny, baby.” “Yeah.” He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “You’re right, as usual.” Then he checked his watch. “Crap. I gotta get back down to the office. Stan should be here soon and we got that new system to go over.” Stan was already waiting in one of the overstuffed chairs in Rico’s office. “Gina said you were tied up in that meeting,” he said with a smile. “So I just took a seat. Damned things are comfortable. I need to get one in the back of the roach coach.” “You finally get used to not having the roach on the roof?” “Naw, but some things you just can’t get back. Lester’s got some stuff worked out that’s almost as good as having the camera antennas, though.” Rico motioned toward his open office door. “So show me what you got.” Once they were inside, Stan closed the door and flopped down in one of the chairs across from Rico’s desk. “Lester and I came up with a new way to check for taps on the poles and other distant locations. I think it’ll help keep this place secure, especially if reporters start sniffing around again.” “Yeah.” Rico spun his chair and looked out the wide window Stan had fitted with a trembler to block any laser surveillance. “I don’t get why they’re so bent on tearing a place like this down.” “Same reason they keep writing about the King and Priscilla. Dirt sells papers, Rico. Even if they have to make it up. That and Sonny doesn’t cater to ‘em. No open houses or exclusive inside views for the ten o’clock news here.” Stan’s face changed. “Never mind that some of these girls would die if they got that kind of press. Literally.” “Yeah. But they don’t know that side of it. Not like we do. Or especially Gina.” Rico turned away from the window. “So you got these new toys. How much they gonna dent my security budget?” They talked for about an hour, more for show than anything else. Rico knew Stan would sell them the devices more or less at cost, and Stan knew Rico would pay twice his normal fee for installation and maintenance or tack a bonus onto the contract. Still, Rico also knew Stan appreciated being able to brag about his goods, and what the big guy accomplished was impressive. “So we’ll have ‘em in place by the end of next week.” Stan got to his feet. “I’d love to hang, but I gotta meet Larry at another job. Some rich puke who thinks the IRS is listening to his phones.” “Are they?” “Naw. FBI. But he’s a scumbag so we don’t say anything. Just sweep and grin.” Stan chuckled. “We’re actually going there today to pull our equipment. Soon as we found Federal wires we shut it down.” “Yeah. Let Duddy deal with that heat.” “He skipped town not long after we started. Last I heard he was peddling his wares around Atlanta. Take care, Rico.” “You, too. Say hey to Lester for me.” With Stan gone the office was quiet enough for Rico to hear the air whistling through the HVAC ductwork. He couldn’t explain it, but he always felt a touch of sadness when the former Task Force member left. It was like that Lester, too. He never mentioned it to Mindy, not even to Sonny. But that sadness, and a sense of loss, was there every time. “Stan looked happy.” “Yeah, pretty lady. He’s got a new toy and I’m payin’ good money to let him and Lester have their fun.” He grinned. “But it sounds like it’ll help keep some of the more scummy press chumps out of our business, so it’s worth every penny.” “I’ve got the applications vetted if you want to run through them again.” “Yeah. Then I suppose we’d better start scheduling interviews. I don’t want to be light when they start construction.” “And we’re needing to hire two? The pool’s a bit thin for that.” “Yeah, but there weren’t any red flags aside from the chump with the felony?” “No. Of course I only ran the ones with law enforcement backgrounds. That’s one reason the pool’s so light.” “Yeah, but we gotta go with what’s worked so far.” He took the files. “I’ll read through ‘em again and sort into two pools. One to interview and the other as backup in case the first pool doesn’t result in any hires.” He looked at his wife and smiled. “And then I hear Downbeat has a new combo opening tonight. We can grab some dinner and a show there.” Mindy smiled, the light in her eyes burning right through to his heart. “I’d like that a lot, baby.” Out in the darkness the waves slapped against the sand before sliding back into the ocean. Sitting on his deck, Martin Castillo let the sounds envelope him. The water. Piano notes from inside as Trudy worked on a new composition. Insects calling back and forth in the trees around the house. And another set of sounds only he could hear. For most of his life he’d been in Government service. First the CIA, then a short stop with DEA, and finally Metro-Dade. Decades spent in the shadows doing what some people called the hard things. Castillo never used that term. He preferred necessary things, even though some of what he’d done couldn’t be considered necessary. At least in the comfort of hindsight. Castillo was a man surrounded by ghosts. The hill tribes in Vietnam and Laos had seen that in him, and he found it drew them to him. Old Hmong shamen who wouldn’t say a word to another American would talk to him in broken French and Vietnamese for hours, and he’d found the same when he worked with Montagnards in the south. Even grizzled old Nung warriors like Ti Ti bonded with him in ways they didn’t with most other Americans. It was in those mountains he’d made his peace with the ghosts, including the new ones who came to visit from time to time. Now that he was out of law enforcement they seemed to come closer, more comfortable now than they had been before. Or maybe he was more comfortable with them. Taking a sip of green tea he closed his eyes and listened to the waves, hearing Jess’s voice again in the distance. And Jack’s. He’d never thought before about the significance of Jack reentering his life by the ocean until now. Somehow everything seemed to come back to the waves Jess had valued so highly. The music stopped, and he knew Trudy would soon join him. A smile slipped on his face as he pictured her in his mind. His pearl in the oyster that had been OCB. He also knew she was annoyed her playing wasn’t quite as fluid as it had been before she’d been shot. But physical therapy was helping, and the doctors said in another month or two she’d be back to her pre-injury baseline. She sat down next to him and smiled. “Did I tell you Gina called earlier?” “No, my love.” He used the Vietnamese phrase, rich with far more meaning than its English translation. “Did she have good news?” “I…” She paused. “She asked if I wanted to come on board as an art therapy instructor. Just a couple of days a week. It’s one of the programs they’re thinking of expanding as they build the addition, and…” “You told her you needed time.” He smiled and set down his empty tea glass. “Why didn’t you just say yes?” “I don’t know.” Trudy took a sip of her own tea. “It would be fun working with the girls, and seeing Gina and the rest more often is a bonus, but…” “Memories. I understand. It’s hard to walk away from a thing that meant a great deal and then be reminded of it when you see certain people. Hear certain sounds.” He looked out toward the invisible water. “I understand, my love. But didn’t you say art helped you when you were the age of many of those girls?” “It did. And so did my granny. But you’d better not be saying…” “No. You’re not old enough to be their granny.” He smiled. “But maybe you can pass some of that love of art on to them. Or at least give them a way to express what happened to them without having to talk about it. If they can paint their ghosts, maybe they can start to understand them.” “I’m no teacher.” “No. And maybe that makes you a better teacher. You know what these girls went through on the streets. Very few teachers would understand that. You can relate to them, talk to them in their language.” He thought back to the mountains. “There’s a value there that can’t be explained. Gina knows that. It’s what made her so effective in victim services.” “And I gotta admit it would be nice to be part of something again.” She paused. “I didn’t mean…” “I understand what you meant. We spent most of our lives being part of something bigger than ourselves. When that’s gone…” He stopped for a moment. “It leaves a hole. I think we all feel it in some way or another. If teaching at Caitlin’s House helps you fill that hole, you should do it.” “What about you?” He smiled. “I’m still tired. And enjoying the peace that comes from not being part of something like that. But I might ride in with you to see Crockett and Tubbs. Just to see how they’re doing.” “I’ll call her tomorrow and let her know.” She got to her feet, and Castillo admired her trim figure in the yellow moonlight. “And my shoulder’s stopped aching. I think I’ll go see if I can find a bridge to the next section of that piece. It’s driving me crazy.” He sat immobile until the piano started again. Then he got to his feet and stepped off the deck like a ghost, vanishing into the shadows around the house as if he’d never been sitting there. Out away from the lights things always became more clear for Castillo. Where he could close his eyes and feel like he was back in the mountains of Laos. Or Cuba. Or even Montana where they’d had their honeymoon. And where he could let the ghosts gather round and say their hellos. There were so many. Ti Ti, Gus, and Jess from his old team in Laos. Jack of course. Father Ernesto Lupe, his old civil rights friend killed by his own brother-in-law. Derek, a member of SOG blown to pieces on one of his missions in Laos. A kid he’d called Pancho, his first DEA informant in 1975 who’d been blown by another agent and killed by the runners he was informing on. All people he’d been responsible for in some way and managed to fail. It was a weight he couldn’t really shake, but at least now nothing was adding to it. He’d known it was time to get out when they broke the back of Unit 8. Even Sonny Crockett had recognized the change, but unlike Castillo he didn’t realize how far they’d pushed their luck. Or what the cost would be when the bill came due. And it always came due. He’d learned that for the first time in a smoking hole in the Laotian jungle, and had it reinforced time and again over the years. No matter how good you were, the bill always came due. He could still hear the music, faint notes carrying over the insects and surf sounds hanging in the thick, humid air. He knew he should head back, be on the deck when she finished playing. But he figured he could spend a few more minutes with the ghosts. He owed them that much. After all, they’d made him who he was. Standing, breathing in the night air, he let them envelop him. Gordon Wiggins hated the damp heat of Miami. He’d gotten used to LA’s dry heat, and feeling his own sweat soak his skin always soured his mood. Looking from the street map open on the rental car’s passenger seat to the handwritten address and back again, he clicked on the blinker and made a right turn. At least the Ford’s air conditioner was drying the sweat on his face. He hadn’t expected Haskell to have an office in such a run-down part of town. The last he’d heard Caitlin Davies’ attorney had occupied a suite near the top of one of Miami’s high rise complexes. “How the mighty have fallen,” he muttered as he made another turn and checked the map a final time. He caught a glimpse of his own face in the car’s rear view mirror, partly hidden by big aviator sunglasses, and smiled at the irony of what he’d just said. “How far indeed.” He saw the office sign near the end of one those horrid confections the Americans called strip malls, and swung his car into an open spot close to the door. Inside, he breezed past the awkward middle-aged secretary with a wave of his hand. “Gordon Wiggins. Arthur’s expecting me.” Arthur Haskell sat behind a plywood replica of an oak desk, his big frame somehow shrunken into something less that Wiggins remembered from school and later meetings with the man when the Davies woman had been alive. His eyes were equally diminished. “Gordon! It was good to hear from you. When did you get out? Wait. I know. Stupid question. Have a seat.” “You appear to have had a change in fortune, Arthur.” Wiggins sank into the fake leather chair. “And here I thought you’d be living off the fat of the land.” Haskell snorted, pouring them both drinks from a bottle he produced from a desk drawer. “Oh, we were. Until my idiot partner, junior partner I might add, managed to piss off Caitlin’s widower and get us fired. Then there was…misunderstanding…about a couple of our long-term clients. I was lucky to escape without being disbarred.” “Unlike friend Francis, I hear.” Wiggins sipped the cheap bourbon with appreciation. It wasn’t much compared to the old days, but after Club Fed any booze was good booze. For now. “Yes. There is that.” Haskell drained his glass in a single, long swallow and poured himself another. “Look, I don’t have much to offer you. Gordon. We’re barely making ends meet as it is. Turns out young Watkins has a bit of a knack with divorce cases, and that’s been carrying us.” “Ah, but I might have something to offer you, Arthur.” Wiggins took another sip and looked at the framed diplomas hung crookedly on the wall. The Arthur Haskell he remembered would have had them perfectly aligned and level. But with all that, he was sure Arthur still had money hidden away, likely overseas like he did. Haskell was the kind who planned for the future. “I saw on the news the other day that the Davies house has been turned into some kind of treatment facility.” “Yeah. He put the bulk of the estate behind that. Watkins complained, and Burnett fired us on the spot.” “Ah, yes. Sonny Burnett. The man with a volcanic temper.” Wiggins closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his dealings with the man. “How much do you know about Sonny Burnett?” “Not as much as I’d like. We hired a detective to look into him at one point, and the man came up empty. But that was years ago, and Francis did the hiring.” “Francis must have hired the only deaf and blind detective working in Miami.” Wiggins set down his empty glass and waited for Haskell to pour him another. “Thank you. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Sonny Burnett. The man was in the drug trade when I…knew him. The late, lamented Fremont knew more, and I think the equally late but less lamented Tommy Lowe knew even more. And he’s behind this project?” “Yes. Fully behind it. There are others involved, but he kept them away from us at most meetings.” Haskell set down his glass. “To be frank, Gordon, we were barely involved in any of the actual planning. That…woman who used to look after Ms Davies saw to that.” “Angie.” Wiggins let the name roll off his tongue. A true behemoth of a woman. And a formidable enemy. Firmly on Burnett’s side as I recall. “And she’s next to impossible to get past.” “We noticed that.” Haskell nodded toward the connecting door. “My junior partner had a run-in or two with her before Burnett came along.” “Here’s the thing, Arthur. We, the two of us, made Caitlin Davies. Oh, Paul did his part, and even that louse Lowe. But we were there from the very beginning, you and I. And we were both pushed out by that Burnett fellow.” Haskell chuckled. “Be fair, Gordon. You and Paul did try to kill her.” “That was Paul’s doing.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. He’d repeated it so many times over the years he almost believed it some days. “He was never a patient man. ‘Just wait,’ I used to tell him, ‘that Burnett’s lifestyle will catch up with him and we’ll be there to sweep up.’ But he didn’t listen.” “Whatever you say, Gordon.” Haskell poured himself another drink. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re cut out of the estate. I looked into it, and legally we don’t have a leg to stand on or a pot to piss in. Burnett hired some former DA named Towers and has the place wired up tight.” “I’m sure he does, Arthur. I’m sure he does.” Wiggins smiled his best snake-oil smile. “But that doesn’t mean he can protect the good name of the house, does it?” “I don’t follow.” “Of course not, Arthur.” Wiggins realized what he’d said and smiled. “I mean it’s obvious Caitlin’s legacy means something to this animal. We might not be able to get control of the estate, but we can ruin it so it’s worthless to him.” “That’s a big plan.” “Had lots of time to think about it, you see.” Wiggins drained his bourbon and slammed the glass down on the desk. “All thanks to that man. I’d hoped you still represented the estate, but that can’t be helped. My plan will still work. We’ll just have to make a few changes.” “I’ll have to think about it, Gordon. This might not look like much, but it’s a living. And a man has to make a living.” Wiggins sighed. “Of course, Arthur. I’ll be in town for a few days yet if you change your mind.” He grabbed one of the cheap business cards from Haskell’s desk and produced a pen from the inside pocket of his suit coat and scribbled on the back. “That’s my hotel and room number. Give me a call if you change your mind.” He smiled and slid the card across the desk. “It really would be a shame to let this opportunity slip away.” “So it was that bad.” Towers looked up from the executive summary of the audit. “Yeah. And they’d been doing it for years.” Sonny turned and looked out the window of Towers’ office. Some days it reminded him of the view from the tenth floor suite the Task Force had called home. “I want them to go down, Gary. And I mean hard.” “We’ve got enough here to go for damages. Serious damages. Lost earnings. You name it.” He chuckled. “I happen to know Francis is doing time now for taking kickbacks from the Mob, so there’s a chance they’ll try to dump it on him.” “The auditors found evidence linking Haskell directly to some of the theft.” Sonny grinned. “Looks like ol’ Francis didn’t trust his partner as much as Haskell thought he did. It’s all outlined in the second section of the audit.” “Good. Look, Sonny, I’ll go through this myself and see what we can manage. I think you were right in aiming for three times the losses, but I don’t know if we’ll get that much. Especially if it’s hidden overseas.” “You let me worry about that part.” He thought back to Jenny’s comment, and knew the resources she could call on if needed. In addition to his own. “Anything we get’s going right into the House trust account. No profit motive here. I just want to make sure the place can keep going no matter what.” “I’ll call you when I have a game plan.” Towers got to his feet. “I’d love to have you stay for lunch, but…” “Yeah. Duty calls and all that, right?” “Nothing that fancy. Just my wife and kid coming by.” “That’s as good as it gets, Gary. Say hello to them for me.” Sonny shook the outstretched hand and turned for the door. It was cool in the garage compared to the heat on the street, and he savored it for a moment before climbing into the Daytona and cranking the ignition. It wasn’t quite the same as the Testarosa, but he could feel the familiar thrill coursing through his veins. And he found he missed it. Slipping on his Ray Bans, Sonny headed into the late morning traffic. His life was good, a damned sight better than he had any right to expect. And he figured that would be the subject of his next stop. He’d found Bobby Crandall through his buddy Robbie Cann, and at first hadn’t known what to make of the skinny counselor with the lined face and squinting old cowboy eyes. But he learned fast that Tex, who’d been a point man and later a scout door gunner in a cavalry squadron down around Saigon, took no shit and suffered no fools. One full tour and three extensions in-country during the hot phase of the war, in not one but two jobs infamous among vets for their high casualty rates, gave Tex every right to take no shit. They’d gone from meeting twice a week to once a week, and now he stopped in every other week. Maybe more if he felt the need. It had been rough at first, and he’d felt like a whining REMF when he found out what Tex had done and where he’d been. But the counselor just grinned. “Ain’t no thing, man. War’s war. Don’t hit no man the same. There’s some who milk it, and you can bet I kick those jokers square in the nuts.” It turned out Caroline had been close to right about getting high on the action. “It’s a rush. Same thing you got when you played ball, I bet. But a hundred times stronger. Some dudes don’t like it. Not one bit. Others…cats like me and I think you…can’t get enough. Hell, there’s gotta be some reason I extended three times an’ went back into the shit.” That conversation had been over a year ago, but Sonny found himself wandering back down the same jungle trail. “You know, Tex, some days I miss it. The rush. That whole feeling you get when you go through a door. Scary as hell, cause you don’t know what’s on the other side, but…” “That rush.” Tex nodded, rocking back a bit in his desk chair. There was a couch in the corner, but he admitted on the first day he used it mostly for naps. “Once it gets in you, man, it don’t want to let go. Latest research says the endorphins spike like you’re doin’ drugs.” “Yeah.” Sonny shook his head. “I thought I had it beat this time, Tex. I really did. Jenny’s cool. She gets it in a way I’ve never seen anyone get it before. And most days I’m good. Hell, better than good. But…” “When you were a ball player you had direction. Same with the Marines. And then being a cop. Hell, you’ve had someone else tellin’ you what to do your whole adult life. And now that’s back on you.” Tex looked at his notes. “And you said you never really started takin’ responsibility until you rejoined Metro-Dade six years back?” “More or less. I was a cowboy, man. Always in a hurry.” “What changed?” “Well…” Sonny dredged up memories he’d rather not look at in the daylight. “I drank myself half to death for about six months and then took a good, hard look. Didn’t like what I saw.” “Bet you heard a drill sergeant yellin’ at you in your sleep.” “Yeah, I think I did. But something told me I had to face up to things I’d done. People who’d…been hurt or even killed because of things I did. Or didn’t do. And I knew I had to come back and try to make as much right as I could.” Tex nodded and made a short note. “This was when that Task Force started, right?” “Yeah. I had to take command once or twice. Hell…no way I could have done that before.” “Not as much fun when you’re holding other peoples’ lives in your hand, is it? I ain’t askin’ that to be an asshole.” “No. You’re right. When you’ve got a team looking to you it really changes how you think about things. At least it should. I know it did me.” “So what’s different now?” “I don’t know.” Sonny leaned back, feeling the overstuffed chair give a bit. “Still got the responsibility with Caitlin’s House and all. And everything was going great. And then Jenny got me the Daytona.” “A reminder of your past.” Tex smiled. “Those aren’t always bad things. Sometimes ya gotta just let ‘em happen.” “Yeah. And I love the car. Ever since my confiscated one got blown up by some redneck gun dealer I’ve missed the damned Daytona. It was like the first sign I’d made it, you know? Into the big leagues of Vice after being in Robbery. I had a Porsche back then, same deal…it was confiscated property. But I was just the flash guy or my partner’s driver. But the Daytona…it was all me. Sonny Burnett. The man with the fast car and fast boat who could make things happen.” “An’ that’s a hell of a rush.” “Yeah. Hadn’t felt a thing like it since I made the starting squad at Miami. Or…” “Your first firefight.” Tex nodded. “Been there too, Sonny. An’ it’s a powerful thing. How do you think you’re handling it?” “Good.” Sonny sighed. “Better than good, really. Jenny might suspect, but that’s because she knows everything. But the others don’t know. Well…maybe Marty.” “Your old boss?” “Yeah. He’s been in it since God knows when.” “Look…you’re doin’ good. Coming here’s a sign of that. You saw you were having some issues and wanted to talk about them.” It always amazed Sonny when Tex shifted from good ol’ boy vet to doctor voice. “Odds are you wouldn’t have done that a year ago. Things from your past are always gonna trip that feeling. And that’s ok. Just stay focused on where you are now and what it took to get there. And maybe most importantly…where you want to go. It’s gonna be harder because of that explosion and the break you had, but you got that under control. I don’t know many dudes who could come through that in one piece.” He smiled. “How is Burnett, by the way?” “Good.” Sonny smiled. They’d talked through the whole Burnett episode and what had happened with the Task Force. “Using that to focus on how we take Caitlin’s House to the next level.” “Right on. And tell me…did Burnett ever get off on the action?” Sonny started to answer, then paused. “No. No, he didn’t. He was always too focused for that.” “Mission-oriented. That’s the part of you that rejects the thrill and looks for results. Hang onto that, Sonny. It’ll help.” Tex looked at his desk clock. “I hate to do it, but I got another appointment comin’ up. Guy’s in a bad way or I’d push it back.” He got to his feet. “I’ll say it again, Sonny. You’re doin’ good. This kind of thing’s normal, especially when you have a life change like you’ve had. Downshifting from the fast lane ain’t always easy, especially once the fast lane gets into your blood. I want you to call if you start having dreams or flashbacks again. Hear?” “You got it, doc.” Sonny shook the offered hand and clapped Tex on the shoulder. “Now I gotta go put the top down and get my fix.” The Daytona shot up the Expressway like it had been fired from a cannon. Sonny watched the road through his Ray Bans, hands light on the wheel as he picked his way through the slower traffic. He could feel the old thrill building in his veins, but this time it was balanced by something else. A kind of understanding.

Jenny was waiting back at the marina, doing some work on Tranquility’s aft mast. “The rigging’s been making a weird squeak,” she explained with a smile as he came on board. “Like she’s out of balance somewhere.” “Yeah.” Sonny kissed her. Jenny was always fussing with the boat. He didn’t mind. She’d spent much of her adult life on one sailboat or another, and for a good part of it her life was bound up in her boat working right. She fussed over the boat just like he still fussed over his Smith & Wessons. Tools of their old trades not easily forgotten. “Gary’s gonna start the process. I told him to go for as much as he realistically thinks we can squeeze from those assholes. He thinks they might have some of it stashed overseas, but…” “You told him that won’t be a problem.” She smiled, touching his arm. “And it won’t be. I still have some banker friends in the islands who can look without being noticed.” “And I’m sure Marty still has a contact or two who might be able to shaking something loose in Switzerland if they got that ambitious.” Sonny looked out over the water, past the rows of bobbing masts at the pure blue water beyond. “But I doubt they did. These punks seem more Caribbean types to me. Caymans, maybe.” “How do you think they’ll take it?” “They’ll whine, but that’s all. Hell, what can they do? The connected one, Francis, is doing time for consorting with the mob. The two that are left are strictly small time. Hell, Watkins wasn’t even a partner in the firm until just before Cait was murdered. Haskell’s the one who goes way back.” “And he has no backbone.” She slipped closer and let her arm slide around him. “But there’s something…we need to be careful.” “Yeah. With that expansion coming up and all the changes we’re gonna have to make…” “No. This is something else.” Jenny looked away. “She warned me. Trouble’s coming.” “Who?” “Caitlin. She said trouble’s coming and we need to be careful.” Sonny paused. Jenny made a habit of visiting Caitlin’s grave from time to time. ‘Letting her know how things are going’ was how she explained it. And there was that…whatever it was about her. At first he’d ignored it, but she’d been right too many times. He’d come to accept she had some kind of insight…something Mindy just called the sight. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew Marty believed it and that was good enough for him. “Just trouble?” “Yes. She doesn’t come as often, now that she sees you’re happy and things are good. But this…she’s scared. And that makes me scared.” “Rico’s in the process of beefing up security. I’ll have him take some extra steps. Stuff others won’t notice, like having Stan and Lester add in some more sensors and sweep more often. As for us…” He patted his big Smith & Wesson, now more commonly found in a hip holster. “We have our permits and I’m still a reserve deputy or whatever the hell it is. Same with the others.” He shook his head. “I tried to let Burnett fade out before I dropped my papers, so I don’t think anyone would be coming after him. But you never know.” “Maybe she means the court fight over the money.” “Could be. But we’ll be careful just the same.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “The House is important. Maybe one of the most important things I’ve done in my life. I’ll protect it any way I can.” “I know. So will I.” She pressed herself against him. “I think I got the rigging fixed. But I won’t know until we take her out.” “How does tomorrow sound? I gotta get some paperwork done for the expansion, and I want to be close when Gary’s ready to file.” “I’d like that. There’s one or two things I’d like to check first, anyhow.” Her hand slid down. “This, for one.” Even though he’d expected it, Gordon Wiggins was still surprised at how few people would even return his calls, let alone agree to meet with him. The music scene in Miami had taken off since Caitlin and that girl with the drums, but they all acted like they’d never heard of him. Even the ones who owed him. “Sorry, Gordon,” one of the few honest ones said. “You’re damaged goods. I’d love to help, but the damned press would be all over me. Hiring the man who tried kill Saint Caitlin.” He’d grimaced. “Don’t tell me they actually call her that now.” “Yeah. Some of ‘em, anyhow. That husband of hers sealed the deal with the rehab place. Take my advice, man. Head back to L.A. Memories are shorter on the coast.” Looking out the window at the waves, Wiggins knew the man was right. Memories, like girls’ skirts, were shorter on the West Coast. Except in his case. Once you get caught, and actually do time, memories become very long indeed. And there was no way he was going north. New York winters were the things of his nightmares. Still, he had a few days in hand. Enough time to see if Arthur would change his mind. The more he heard, the more he was convinced the way to hurt Sonny Burnett and the memory of that strumpet Caitlin was to destroy the name of the facility he’d dedicated in her honor. He’d done a little bit of digging, just enough to build some background without drawing notice. The place had more security than the facility he’d called home for the last few years, and worked almost exclusively with teen-age girls who’d been picked up off the streets by pimps and, to use the American vernacular, ‘turned out.’ Burnett had kept himself firmly in the background, letting two dynamic female doctors take the lead and the microphone. No one could argue with the place’s success percentage, and reporters who’d tried digging too deeply had gotten their fingers burnt. Most of the security were former law enforcement, mostly hired away from state or Federal agencies. It was needed, the doctors said, to protect the girls from their pimps. At first Wiggins hd been convinced the place was a front for some nefarious activity or another, but the more he dug the less he found. Caitlin’s House, disturbingly enough, was a treatment center. Sipping his drink and looking out at the Miami heat, he muttered a low curse. Damn Burnett for being a smart man. The worst thing was, he was at the point where he actually needed Haskell. His own less-savory Miami contacts were years old and likely swept up by either the police or their competition. If he was going to gather more information, he needed fresh sources. And those would have to come from Haskell. Looking down at his empty glass, Wiggins turned and headed for the small refrigerator. He’d have one more drink and then head down to the boring hotel restaurant for dinner. He had just started to pour when the room phone rang. “Gordon. We need to talk.” “Of course, Arthur. Why don’t you come to the hotel for dinner? Their surf and turf is outstanding.” Feeling a smile on his face, Wiggins hung up the phone and downed his drink. The desperation in Haskell’s voice had been thick enough to touch. Maybe he’d have a chance after all. “Can you believe the gall, Gordon?” Haskell waved a forkful of steak in Wiggins’ general direction. “The total gall.” Actually he could. “So let me get this right, Arthur. You and friend Francis absconded with over ten million dollars over the years from the estate of Caitlin Davies and you’re surprised this Burnett is coming after it? Did you really think he’d just smile and ignore the fact that you stole from his wife and then him by extension?” Haskell lowered his fork and shook his head. “When you put it that way…it does sound rather stupid, doesn’t it?” “A bit, yes.” More than a bit, you idiot. “And his lawyer is suing you for how much?” “Thirty million. Me, Francis, and Watkins. Watkins started drinking before the process server could shut the door and I think he’s passed out in the office bathroom by now.” “I expect they had proof?” “Burnett had the estate audited. Going all the way back. And I mean ALL the way. Which means they found Tommy Lowe’s skimming, and maybe yours and Fremont’s, too.” They won’t have found any of mine. Fremont always handled the Davies account. Bless him. “I don’t see what you expect me to do, Arthur.” Wiggins smiled and chewed a forkful of lobster. “I’m but a simple ex-con, remember?” He smiled again, glad he’d picked out a table toward the back. “You said you had a plan. Something about wrecking the reputation of that damned house.” Haskell looked around. “I’m in, Gordon. This damned thing is gonna break me. Watkins, too. But I’m not going down alone, by God. Saint Caitlin’s going down with me.” It was all Wiggins could do to keep his face set. “Then let’s get down to it, Arthur. I may need to avail myself of some of your local contacts. Actually I know I will. Mine are a bit…dated, shall we say. And I’m sure you know the right sort of people, don’t you, Arthur? But I think I have a plan…” “I just wish I could have been there to see their faces.” Sonny looked up from the balance sheet he’d been trying to decode. “Yeah. So do I.” Jenny crossed from the galley to sit beside him. “I’m surprised you didn’t take this forward to the office.” “Light’s better here.” He smiled, feeling her firm body beside him. “And I can’t watch your ass in those shorts if I’m up there.” “Just my ass?” “You know better than that.” He chuckled. “And I don’t know why I’m looking at it, honestly. This stuff doesn’t mean squat to me. Numbers on a page. Hell, you’re the smart one. I want to college to play ball, remember?” “Then we can play football star and his study partner.” She ran her hand along his shoulder. “I’d like that. But it still doesn’t mean these numbers…” She kissed his cheek. “It’s not too hard. Think of it as a drug deal. That set’s the raw product coming in, and over here is what you can sell it for once it’s cut. Those numbers are shipping cost, the cut you pay the runners…” “Now you’re talkin’ my language.” He shook his head. “But it don’t say much for my life if the only way I can understand a balance sheet is by lookin’ at it like Burnett’s business.” She smiled, and then her eyes changed. “What do you think they’ll do?” “The lawyers? Hell, Francis is already in prison so he can’t do much more than cough up the part of his estate that didn’t get seized when he was convicted. Haskell and Watkins? They’ll whine and try to fight, but we had the audit done by one of the best firms in the state. And Gary’s hell on wheels in the courtroom. I’ve seen him prosecute cases against some of the top defense attorneys in the southeast and come out on top. Sometimes with less evidence than we gave him. I think we’ll get close to what they stole in the end. I don’t know if they have that much money between the three of them these days.” Her nod was halfhearted. “I hope you’re right, Sonny. I really do. But she’s still worried. We need to be careful.” “I know, baby.” He slid his arm around her, the balance sheets fading from his mind. “And we will be. I’ve been thinkin’ about this since you first said something, and I just don’t know what they could do. Maybe stir up some old enemies of mine…or Burnett’s, but most of them are either in jail, dead, or too small-time to do much more than spray paint ‘pig’ on the side of the Daytona. And they don’t know enough about you to even begin to find enemies. And I fired them before any of the others came in. I’ll talk to Rico before we head out to sea and let him know the score.” He let his arm slide off her shoulder and reached for the phone. “How does Sanctuary sound?” Robbie’s club had changed a bit over the years, the decor losing some of its ‘80s purple and getting darker and more formal. But the staff still called him ‘Mr. Burnett’ and there was a standing reservation on a table in the back good until eight most nights. When the Task Force was still active they’d been here many nights. It wasn’t as common now, but Sonny made it a point to keep in touch with Robbie Cann. He’d let the bond break once, and sworn he’d never repeat that mistake. The big doorman greeted him with a smile. “Mr. Burnett. Mr. Cooper and his wife are already at the table.” “Thanks, Rick.” Sonny slipped the big man a fifty. “Been a while.” “It has. Been quiet so far tonight. And they got the good cook working.” He could just see Mindy’s red hair through the low lighting. Robbie had banned indoor smoking about six months back, making it easier to see details at a distance. The change hadn’t bothered Sonny…he’d cut back to maybe one or two Luckies a week at most and was even thinking about changing to a pipe. Then Rico’s laugh cut through the mid-level music and they headed over. “So I hear the chumps got their papers today.” Rico grinned around the rim of his scotch glass. “And Gary said they already got the go-ahead to sieze what they could from Francis’s frozen assets. I guess that chump had a couple of million stashed in the Dutch Antilles somewhere. But Haskell an’ Watkins are gonna fight it.” Sonny sat down, letting Jenny slide in first so she was next to Mindy. “I bet Gary just loved that.” “He did. He said somethin’ about getting them disbarred at the same time. Feels like he’s treatin’ it like one of those Klan cases he used to catch.” “He might be. He’s really invested in the goals of the House now.” Sonny looked over at Jenny, now deep in whispered discussion with Mindy. “I wanted to talk to you about uppin’ security during all this. Both physical and electronic.” “You got it partner.” Rico’s eyes followed Sonny’s. “Someone got a feeling?” “Yeah. Direct from Cait this time.” “I’ll throw as much security on as we can manage. I don’t want to add too many new guys, especially if it’s only temporary. With the economy like it is I don’t wanna get a guy’s hopes up an’ then let him go.” “I don’t, either. Look…why don’t you hire as many as we’ll need to cover the new stuff once it comes on-line? Tell ‘em it might be part time now for training purposes, but will transition to full time as the unit starts to open.” “Good idea. That’ll bring another five or six guys in. I can do the same thing with the electronic side. Stan and Lester can start playing with their toys early and then locate ‘em where they’ll need to be as the construction is completed.” “Good.” Sonny nodded as the waitress arrived with his lone Black Jack. These days he started with one bourbon and switched to beer if he kept drinking at all. Then he leaned over. “Personally I can’t think of anyone those two bozos could use to hurt us, but you know Jenny’s feelings…” “Yeah. Ain’t no way I’m gonna ignore one of those.” Rico smiled, and Sonny could see the lines on his face. “Hey. I hear she bought you another Daytona.” “Yeah. Don’t know where the hell she found it, but it’s a black convertible. Just like the old days.” “One of the few things that is, I guess.” Rico shook his head. “That reminds me. Robbie stopped by when we got here. Asked if we could come back to his office as soon as we got settled in.” Sonny nodded. “Sure. Did he look like something was wrong?” “You know Robbie better than me, man. Would you play poker with him?” “No, Rico. I would not.” Taking a sip of the bourbon, he turned to Jenny. “Robbie asked us to stop by for a couple of minutes, babe. You two good here?” She smiled. “Sure, Sonny. Mindy and I are just setting up some range time.” Rico gave Sonny his familiar ‘what can you do’ look. “She’s been after me, but I ain’t had time in a week or so.” Mindy giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. “We’ll make it a girls’ morning. Since I hear you two are going sailing again.” “Yeah.” Sonny turned to Rico. “Let’s go see what Robbie wants.” If the club had grudgingly changed with he times, Robbie Cann’s office remained firmly planted in 1989, complete with the Night Ranger poster Sonny had seen the first time he’d walked through the door. Robbie got up from behind his desk as soon as they came in, slapping bear hugs on both men in turn. “Rico! Sonny! It’s been too long!” “Coupla weeks, maybe.” Sonny chuckled, slapping Robbie on the back. “But yeah, that is too long. How you been?” “Good.” He turned to the security camera monitors on the far wall. “See you got another Daytona. That must have set you back.” “I don’t know. Jenny bought it for me. She won’t say a damned thing about where she found it or how much it cost. And maybe I don’t wanna know the answer to either question.” “Fair enough.” Robbie waved his hand toward the stack of reports on his desk. “God knows a man gets tired of wading through the numbers. But my old man beat that into my head. ‘Always check the accountants, Robbie’ he’d say when he was going through the mob stuff.” He chuckled. “Guess I did learn something of value from the family business after all.” “Could have saved myself a whole lot of bother if I’d learned the same lesson, but I was too busy playin’ ball and chasin’ tail.” He filled Robbie in about the lawsuit. “But you didn’t call us back here to catch up on all that,” he finished. Rico nodded. “Yeah. We coulda done that at the table over some of that shrimp you got featured tonight.” “Yeah.” He waved them to chairs. “Take a seat.” Once he was back behind his desk he started hitting buttons on the computer keyboard. “You know how I like to keep tabs on things, Sonny?” “Yeah. Smart thing to do since you testified against your own family.” “True. But I do it for you guys, too. Kinda my hobby to see how your aliases ebb and flow. We get all kinds in here, and time to time back in the old days you two would come up. Usually Burnett, but sometimes Cooper or the Rasta guy.” “Prentiss. Teddy Prentiss, mon.” Rico smiled. “Yeah. That guy.” Robbie chuckled. “It’s been quiet the last year or so. They all seem to figure you got fed to the sharks or retired. Hell, there was even a rumor the two of you headed to LA to start over. But that was mostly in the first year.” He stopped punching buttons and spun his chair so he could see one of the monitors. “Until the other night.” Sonny looked at the flickering monitor. “What happened?” “Those two at the bar? They came in asking about Sonny Burnett. If he’d been in lately.” Robbie grinned. “My guys know the score. They didn’t say a damned thing, but let me know right away. We didn’t get a good look at ‘em, and they paid for their drinks in cash so there’s no paper trail.” Sonny watched them move through narrowed eyes. “They know the camera’s there and keep shifting to avoid it. Never saw much of that back in the day.” “Naw. These chumps know the score.” Rico turned to Robbie. “They only ask about Burnett? And did your people get any kinda vibe off them?” “Just Burnett. Sorry, Rico. Your fame didn’t precede you that night. We were busy, so the bartender didn’t remember much. But Rick on the door? He thought they had narco all over ‘em. Lots of gold on display, and he was pretty sure they were carrying. Like Scarface in cowboy boots is how he talked about them.” Sonny nodded, remembering some of the guys they’d run into while taking down Unit 8. “Yeah. That narco cowboy look was starting to come in when we got out of the game. Those two don’t look like kids, though.” “Rick put ‘em both in their forties. Old enough to maybe have done some business with Burnett and Cooper.” “Can we get a copy of that tape? I’d like to have Stan run it through some of his toys and see if we can get a better look at those two.” “Figured you’d ask so I already had one made up.” Robbie pulled a black plastic box out of his desk drawer. “Got a copy on one of those new CD disks, too, if it’ll help.” “I’ll take ‘em both. God knows what Stan and Lester are playing with these days.” Robbie nodded. “Gotta admit it feels kinda good to get some excitement in here again. Things haven’t been the same since you guys retired and those two cowboys headed back to Montana. And they took my best waitress with ‘em. Dave did, anyhow. How are they, by the way? I hear from Debbie from time to time, but…” Sonny chuckled. “Yeah. I was never sure both of them knew how to write. Last I heard they were doin’ good, though. Back on the force in Butte. I think they might be coming back this way for a conference or something.” “If they do, you gotta bring ‘em by. Be good to see them again.” Robbie looked around the office and sighed. “The Stones had it right, Sonny. What a drag it is getting old.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. If you let it be a drag. But I know what you mean. It’s hard to change gears after spending years in the fast lane. The Job gets in your blood and don’t want to let go. Hell, we’re both still in the reserves.” “Just can’t quit it completely.” Sonny smiled and shook his head. “That and it makes concealed carry a hell of a lot easier.” “Yeah, I get it. Kinda like this club.” Robbie looked around the office. “You know, when we opened it was the proudest day of my life. Until my son was born. Kept this place going with sweat and blood. But now…some days it would be nice to walk away and find something else to do.” “Is business down?” “Naw. No more than anyone else around here. Times ain’t what they used to be, but I can make it through that.” His smile was thin, and Sonny could see a touch of sadness in his friend’s eyes. “It’s more like it ain’t fun any more. Not as many bands, and too many punks like those assholes in cowboy boots.” “You got a good manager, right? Take some time off, Robbie. Hell, we all need it now and then. Take the family someplace nice and just be with them.” “Now you sound like me, Sonny.” Robbie chuckled. “But maybe you’re right. Hell, we haven’t had a real vacation in years. Couldn’t afford it before, and once I testified it just wasn’t safe for a few years.” “You know Angie, right? Give her a call and have her set something up.” Rico nodded. “That woman’s a genius with vacations, honeymoons, you name it. She’ll get you just what you need.” “And it’s on me. Just go be with your family.” Sonny raised his hand as Robbie started to sputter. “Don’t bitch about it. You footed enough booze bills for us back with the Task Force. Consider this payback.” He pulled out a card for Caitlin’s House and scribbled a number on the back. “Call tomorrow and tell her Blondie said it’s all set. She’ll work her magic from there.” “Blondie?” “Yeah. She’s called me that forever. Jenny’s Little Blondie.” Sonny shook his head. “The woman has a thing about using peoples’ real names. Except for Castillo.” “Yeah. I didn’t think even she would be that stupid.” Robbie took the card and smiled. “I’ll call her first thing, Sonny. And…” “Don’t mention it, pal. We’re buddies, remember? Besides, it’s the least I can do. I owe you for Tex, too.” “He’s something, isn’t he?” “Yeah. And we’d better get back out there before Jenny and Mindy start ripping this place apart looking for us.” Jenny smiled as they approached the table. “Robbie got you talking, didn’t he?” “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” Sonny slipped back into his seat and put his arm around her. “But I’m sure you two had plenty to talk about without us around.” Mindy nodded, and Sonny thought he saw a bit of blush highlighting her freckles. “Oh, you know. Just girl talk is all. I was telling Jenny that Debbie called me the other day. Dave and Randy are supposed to be flying back for some law enforcement conference.” “Yeah. Randy said something about that last time I talked to him, but he wasn’t sure.” “It’s a done deal now.” Mindy smiled. “They conned their sheriff into footing the bill to send both of them. Something about networking, I think she said was the line they used.” “Sounds like something those two jarheads would pull. Still, if they do make it I gotta say it’ll be good to see them both.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. Been over a year now, hasn’t it?” “Damned near.” Sonny reached out for the menu. “I don’t know about you kids, but I’m gettin’ damned hungry. Let’s get some food ordered.” The sun was little more than a thin red line of memory on the horizon when Sonny pulled the Daytona into his familiar spot and shut off the engine. Beside him, Jenny stretched and sighed. “That was really nice, Sonny. It’s good to see Mindy and Rico again.” “Yeah. I gotta admit I still ain’t used to not seeing his ugly mug every morning.” “I know. But I do like not worrying every time you drive off.” “I know, darlin’. I know. Just feels strange after all those years is all.” He grinned as he got out of the convertible. “But comin’ home to you makes it all worthwhile.” “I missed it at first, too, Sonny.” She came around the car and stood beside him, looking down the darkened marina to the twin masts of Tranquility. “The rush I’d get every time I slipped past the Coast Guard with a stolen painting or statute some rich person paid too much for. But now I feel that every time one of those girls finishes a treatment plan at Caitlin’s House.” “So do I.” Slipping his arm around her, he started down toward the boat. “All those years I spent hauling those girls off the streets, out of gutters, or zipping their dead bodies into bags…it’s really something to see them smile when they see they’ve got a life ahead of them. And a real chance.” They walked in silence for a time until they were almost to Tranquility. “What else did Mindy say? Don’t forget, I spent years pretending to be a detective and you’re too quiet.” She smiled and stopped at the foot of the gangplank. “Promise you won’t say a word to Rico? They’re trying to get pregnant.” “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word to him and I’ll act surprised as hell when he finally spills the beans.” Sonny’s smile was genuine. “I was wondering how long it would take. At least they waited until they had some fun first.” “I think it’s good for them both.” She turned and looked out over the water. “Maybe…if things were different…” “It’s ok, Jenny. Hell, I never did too good in the dad department. Not something I want to go back and try again.” “I know we talked about that before. It’s still not important to you?” “No. I screwed up with Billy, and I’ll never know what might have happened with Will.” He pulled her closer, feeling her warm body against his side. “I’m happy with just the two of us, darlin’.” “So am I.” She shivered. “But she’s still warning me. Something’s coming.” “Robbie said a couple of guys were in a few nights back asking about Burnett. He gave us copies of the tapes, and Rico and I are gonna look through them tomorrow. Maybe see if Stan and Lester can work some magic on the images. I don’t think it’s anything important, but it’s been a few months since anyone asked about Burnett.” He kissed the top of her head. “But now I think we’d better turn in. Gonna be a long day tomorrow. I want to go through that budget with the rest of the staff before we take Tranquility out again.”

Just some quick commentary... Life is very busy right now so I don't know how often I'll update this one. It's set about two years after the Task Force disbanded, so you're seeing the team getting on with their lives in many ways. But their old lives still come back to touch them in ways they might not expect. Since the majority of the characters are now out of law enforcement officially (except for maybe reserve positions), the action's different. It's actually hard to write some Vice characters without that kind of action, since in so many ways it defines what we see of them and what we expect from them. Anyhow...here we go. “You can open your eyes now.” Sonny Crockett felt like a fool standing in the marina parking lot with his own hand over his eyes, but Jenny Walker insisted. She wasn’t tall enough to do it herself, and she wanted to surprise him. And if it made her happy, he’d cover his eyes like some damned fool. “Now?” Her giggle melted his heart like it always did. “That’s what I said, silly.” The sun stabbed his eyes for a moment, and he shifted his hand like a car’s visor to block the glare. Then he saw it. “How in the hell…” “I still know people.” She giggled again. “Nothing’s hard when you know people.” He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and that reminded him he needed to breathe. He’d turned in the white Testarosa when he dropped his papers and left Metro-Dade, but hadn’t gotten around to getting another car. They spent most of their time on Tranquility in any case, tying up with the other boats at the dock at Caitlin’s House when duty called or at his spot in the marina when it didn’t. But this… “Go ahead, silly. It won’t bite. I might, but it won’t.” The long black hood glittered in the midday sun like obsidian, and he covered the distance in four long strides. The Daytona looked exactly like the one he’d lost to a Stinger missile along the coast all those years ago. Technically it wasn’t his car, but he’d felt the loss just the same. And now… “It’s beautiful, darlin’. Nowhere near as beautiful as you, mind, but still…” He opened the door and let the leather smell from the interior wash over him. “How the hell did you…” “I told you. I know people.” She handed him the keys. “Now let’s go for a drive.” The car roared to life when he turned the key, and it didn’t take long for him to go through the remembered motions of putting the top down. Jenny settled into the seat beside him, her blue eyes bright and her thick blonde hair fanned out across the brown leather upholstery. He looked over, seeing her body through the thin white t-shirt. “Show me what she can do and I’ll show you what I can do.” She smiled, then grabbed for her seat belt as he slammed his foot to the floor and left a trail of burning rubber running the length of the marina lot. He didn’t ease up until they were on the expressway heading north for clear roads and swamp-tainted breezes. He could feel his grin stretching the muscles of his face, but didn’t care if he looked like a fool. Being behind the wheel of a Daytona took him back years, all the way back to his first months with Vice. Back when he was still a cop, still married, and still full of himself. He hadn’t been ready for the car then. Or the life that came with it. He felt Jenny’s hand on his thigh though his jeans. “I’ll call Martin and Trudy and see if they want to meet us for ribs.” She turned and flashed a quick smile at Mustang loaded with what looked like sorority girls. “We’re heading that way and I’d like to see Pete again.” “Yeah.” Sonny had to shout over the wind whipping around the car. He’d been holding steady at ninety ever since they’d hit clear roads. “We are kinda going his way, aren’t we?” But it was, he admitted, a damned good idea. So much had changed since he’d turned in his badge almost two years ago now. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jenny talking on the car phone, and reminded himself once again how lucky he was to be with her. Caitlin’s House was still growing, a slow yet steady process she and Angie, Caitlin’s old personal assistant, watched over like two hawks. He did what he could, mostly by bringing people in and making sure nothing distracted those two from doing their jobs. But he could see the House making a difference in the lives of the girls who passed through its doors, and he had to admit it made him feel damned good. Marshal’s Ribs was off the beaten track, but word of its barbecue spread like wildfire and it was always hard to find a place to park that wasn’t down by the long grass and the smell of the swamps. Jenny had hung up the phone before he turned off the main road, and was just knotting the straps of a blue bikini top behind her long neck when Sonny looked over. “I don’t want Pete to stroke out,” she said with a smile. “Trudy and Martin should be here soon. She’s driving.” Grinning, Sonny pulled into a reserved spot near the door and swept his thick dirty blonde hair away from his eyes. There was more gray there now than he liked to admit, but he was too damned stubborn to resort to hair dye. “Nice of Pete to put a spot here for us.” “He should. We bought the building.” “Yeah, but don’t give him a hard time about that. He’s…” “A proud man. I know.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek before bouncing out of the Daytona. “And you know I’d never say a word. He’s a good man.” Sonny shut off the car and sat for a moment, letting his body sink back into the familiar feel of the Ferrari convertible. But then the smell of smoke and cooking pork and beef filled his nose and he remembered he hadn’t eaten anything since dawn that morning. “Let’s get in there and see about a table. I don’t want Marty and Trudy to have to stand in the back.” In many ways Martin Castillo was a creature of habit. Two years away from the Job and he still wore the same simple black suit coat, white shirt, and narrow black leather tie that had guided him through decades in both espionage and law enforcement. He could feel Trudy smiling behind him as he aligned the tie in the mirror. “I know, my love. Some things don’t change.” Her arm slipped around him and he felt her lips on the back of his neck. “And I don’t want them to. Me? I can let it go a bit.” She stepped around him, showing off her new jeans and a simple loose top. “Don’t want to ruin one of the good dresses with sauce.” He sat in the passenger seat, admiring Trudy’s effortless driving as she guided the Challenger through the mid-afternoon traffic. They could take mostly backroads from his beachside house to Marshal’s Ribs, which gave Trudy an excuse to let the big V-8 stretch. When they pulled into the lot, Trudy pointed and smiled. “Look! Jenny actually found a Daytona!” “If anyone could…” Castillo felt his eyes warm behind his sunglasses. Jenny had been an art smuggler before settling down with Sonny, and he was sure her connections still extended far beyond a rare car. Much like his own. “It will be good to see them again.” “Yeah.” Trudy parked next to the black Ferrari in another spot marked Reserved and shut off the big muscle car. “It’s been what? Three weeks since that last benefit show?” “Yes.” He thought back to the show, a combination of her music and artwork done by local artists auctioned off to benefit Caitlin’s House. They’d raised almost fifty thousand dollars that day. He still had to stop some days and wonder at how far Sonny had come from being the cowboy cop he’d first met beside a canal in Miami ten years ago. Inside it was dark and smokey, the babble of the crowd almost drowning out the battered old juke box belting out what sounded like ZZ Topp in the corner. The waitress at the door gave them a quick look and waved toward the back. “Sonny and Jenny are back there. He said you’d be joining them.” Moving around full tables toward the back of the house, Castillo thought again about old habits. The heavy weight of his Model 29 Smith & Wesson hung under his left arm; one old habit he couldn’t shake. Not yet. And he knew Trudy wore a long, loose shirt to conceal the Safari Arms .45 on her hip. Maybe one day…but not this day. Sonny saw them coming and waved, but Jenny jumped up from the table and headed through the crowd until she could sweep Trudy up in a hug. “Trudy! Martin! It’s been too long!” Trudy gave Castillo a ‘what can you do’ smile and hugged Jenny back. “Yeah, girlfriend. It has. But with you and Sonny riding the waves all the time how’re we supposed to get in touch?” “I forgot about that.” She turned back toward the table. “Sonny! We have to come in at least twice a week so we can see these two! And Caitlin and Will!” “You got it, babe.” Castillo saw the quick flash of pain on Sonny’s face at the mention of his murdered wife and unborn son, but it was quickly pushed aside by the familiar grin. Both men knew Jenny meant nothing but good with the remark. Then Sonny was on his feet. “Marty. It has been too damned long. I shoulda been at that benefit with Jenny, but Rico and I had some new staff to check.” “Duty. I understand all too well.” Castillo took the offered hand, favoring one of his few friends with a narrow smile. “Have you seen Pete yet?” “Naw, but he knows we’re here. I think he might be whipping up some of those burnt ends or something.” Sonny chuckled and sat back down. “I heard some very marshal-like cussing coming from the kitchen not too long back.” Jenny sat down as soon as Sonny did. “I like to see Pete doing well. He loves this, and it’s good to see other people love it, too.” Castillo nodded. He’d gone in with them when they invested in Pete’s restaurant. He didn’t have the resources they did, but he wanted to help secure the future of the man who’d done so much to make sure his last law enforcement job actually counted for something. “He’s done well.” Trudy waved over one of the waitresses. “Can we get a pitcher of Coors over here? Actually better make it two.” Then she turned back to Sonny. “How are Rico and Mindy?” “Busy. Rico’s got security for the House humming, and Mindy’s keeping busy there, too. Background checks and all that kinda thing.” He let his arm fall around Jenny’s shoulders and she snuggled up against him. “When she’s not helping Gina with outreach stuff.” Castillo let their words flow around and over him, picking out bits from time to time. Another part of him watched the room. Old habits again. But the third part was just enjoying being with friends again. Letting their talk and happiness fill him. When the beer arrived he looked over and saw Jenny watching him. She smiled and winked before pouring herself a beer. Jenny. Castillo still wasn’t sure what force had swept her into Sonny’s life, but he knew it had saved both of them. She reminded him more of the hill people he’d worked with in Laos, even though she had the looks and speech of a California surfer girl. Like the hill people she was in touch with things the rest of them could not see, hear things they didn’t. He’d learned in those dark rainforests and high mountains not to question what the Hmong and Montagnards felt, only to heed their advice when things got hot. Jenny had that same air. Pete came out of the back with a big smile on his face. Castillo rose to shake his hand, still not able to shake the retired lawman’s resemblance to George Jefferson. “I thought I heard trouble comin’ into my place,” he said in his best Cracker lawman voice. “An’ it’s good to see my ears ain’t failin’ me. Looks like retirement’s treatin’ you good, Marty.” “Not as good as you, Pete.” Castillo’s smile was wide and genuine. Jenny’s voice rose above the rest. “Sit and have a beer, Pete. You need one.” “Now my pappy raised me never to argue with a pretty lady. Especially when she’s right.” Pete flopped in the empty chair with a grin and watched Jenny pouring him a beer. “Gotta say there’s a sight more work in big barbecue than I thought. But it’s good work, an’ folks go away full at the end of it.” Again Castillo let the words flow. At any given time at least half the people in the place were connected to law enforcement in some way. Anyone who caused trouble in here would soon find themselves facing far more trouble than they could handle. He never let his guard fully down, but he could at least relax here. Pete was talking again, lapsing out of his Cracker sheriff act as things got serious. “How’s that place of yours doing, Sonny?” “Good.” Sonny grinned. “Hell, more than good really. Jenny here’s talking about a big fundraising drive to add a new wing or outbuildings or something. So we can take in more kids.” Trudy leaned across the table. “It’s going that well?” “Well, we’re on our like tenth group of girls. An addition would let us add a space for boys, too. Which was always part of the plan.” Sonny grinned and took a drink of beer. “But in the first stages we just weren’t set up to have both.” “Plus there’s more girls in the system.” Jenny’s eyes were bright, and Castillo could feel her energy from across the table. “The boys…they just push them into prison. The girls usually end up on a different path and we can catch them.” The arrival of a platter of burnt ends and thick sliced bread brought an end to the talking, and Castillo joined the others in eating. Pete had managed to merge styles from Kansas City, Saint Louis, and the Carolinas in his place, converting even Castillo to barbecue. Any thought of serious conversation disappeared with the arrival of ribs and pulled pork, along with generous helpings of cheese grits and mashed potatoes. Looking over at Trudy, her lips decorated with a smear of thick Kansas City-style sauce, Castillo knew he wouldn’t have to worry about making dinner tonight. Pete was on this third toothpick before the talk circled back to their former lives. “Any of you hear from those two reprobates Mather an’ Blair? I told them to stay in touch, but I was never sure if either of ‘em knew how to write, let alone work a phone.” Castillo nodded. “Yes. They’re both back with the sheriff’s department in Montana. They’re going to be in town in a couple of weeks. There’s a conference, and Dave is going to use the opportunity to take Debbie back to Butte with him.” “About damned time she made an honest man out of him!” Pete laughed. “I am kinda hurt he didn’t call me, though.” Castillo thought back to the call he’d gotten late last night. “He said he did. But you cussed him out for forgetting the damned time difference.” “Shit. So that’s who that was callin’ me at one this morning.” Pete rubbed his forehead. “Now I feel like an asshole. I’ll call him soon’s we close up an’ let him know.” He chuckled. “So who’s still single from that crew of yours?” “Franz and Mather.” Castillo smiled his thin smile. “Although I hear Lester’s dating someone in Miami-Dade and Randy likely has a girl out in Montana. You know him.” “Yeah. Never use one word when none will do.” Pete turned to Sonny. “Wasn’t that bear of a woman all hot for him?” Sonny laughed. “Angie? Yeah. She still might be for all I know. You ask her anything like that and she’s likely to take a swing at you, though.” The day was fading into night when they finally left Marshal’s Ribs, Pete still protesting when Sonny paid the bill. Outside the heat was leaving the air, and Castillo took a deep breath to clear the smoke from his lungs. They were far enough out you could still hear swamp noises over the roar of machines, and he felt his body starting to settle into old rhythms brought on by the shifting sounds. Next to him Trudy sighed. “If you would have shown me this six years ago and said this was where we’d be I would have slapped you.” “Yes, my love.” He never would have believed it, either. How much they’d all changed, and not just in material circumstances. But still, usually late at night when Trudy’s breathing was even and his only companions were the night noises outside the house, he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was how he’d been trained. For some reason Gordon Wiggins had assumed his first breaths of air as a free man would be sweeter than they were. Of course, he’d done his time in what was essentially a summer camp for misbehaving stock brokers, so it wasn’t quite the same as walking out of Radford. Still, maybe in honor of the late and unlamented Fremont, he’d cherished the drama of the moment until there was no need. There was no one to meet him, but he’d expected that. Record executives weren’t exactly in high demand, especially ones who’d rolled on people to cut their time in half. Still, he’d been judicious. The attempt on the Davies’ woman’s life had been dumped at the charred feet of what remained of Fremont, along with most of the payola heat. Poor old Paul did so like to talk. He sounded almost presidential on those tapes when the government lawyer played he thought as he waited for his cab outside the gates of the minimum security prison he’d called home for the last few years. Still, Tommy Lowe had been right about one thing: get so much as a parking ticket and no one returns your calls. The thought of Caitlin Davies sent a quick stab of anger through his big body. The silly little bitch had ruined everything. That she’d gotten her due later did little to satisfy him, especially since he was cut off from the royalty stream that resulted. He’d been able to follow the whole sad saga thanks to the great cable reception and multiple TVs in what his fellow borders liked to call Club Fed, all the way down to her husband starting some kind of facility for wayward girls in their old home. Using MY money. Or what should have been my money. We made that little tramp. The cab reminded him of one of the squad cars they’d crammed him into after the explosion, but he pushed the memory down as he climbed in and gave the driver the address of a hotel near the airport. He’d take a day or so to get his affairs in order and then see about heading for Miami. The Feds might have thought they’d grabbed all his resources, but Gordon Wiggins was a careful man by nature. They only found what he wanted them to find. Ricardo Tubbs stared at the computer screen, waiting for the information he’d requested to load. He chuckled. So much of what he did now was waiting for things to load. Still, he couldn’t complain. Caitlin’s House needed security. No question. And it needed more than Angie scaring hell out of the girls if they got out of line, something she was damned good at. No, there had to be someone to screen the girls and the people who worked there. Watching for any slip, anyone who was trying to get in for the wrong reasons. Sonny had hired him the same day he’d left Metro-Dade, giving him total control over the security set-up. “Run it how you like,” he said with that damned cowboy grin of his. “Bring in whoever you need. I’ve got Stan and Lester on retainer, but hire ‘em full time if you want. We need these girls to be safe. Do whatever it takes.” They were still small then, three girls in-house and staff still settling in. The first thing he’d done was run background checks on all the rent-a-cops then fired over half of them.He started rebuilding security, hiring as many former Marshals as he could find along with a select crop of ex-Metro-Dade. Then he had Stan and Lester put together the electronic side of the house. “Sonny gave me the keys to the kingdom,” he’d told them when he brought them in. “Build it solid and plan for upgrades. He set no limit.” After the two got done repainting his office white, they’d gotten to work with a will. Now they had cameras just about everywhere, motion sensors on the perimeter, stuff to sweep for bugs…you name it, Stan and Lester had put it in. At first Rico thought they might have gone overboard, but the first time they picked up a reporter trying to sneak onto the grounds and then found a tap on the line no one could identify he decided they’d done exactly what was needed. The screen flickered, then steadied as information loaded. Rubbing his eyes, Rico compared what was on the application to what loaded. “These chumps never learn,” he muttered, checking the ‘reject’ box and dropping the application into his out tray. “You can’t hide a felony.” “Did we get another one?” “Yeah. Chump had a felony assault conviction and he wants to work security here.” Rico looked up and smiled at Mindy as she walked into the office. Mindy Tubbs now. Damn, that takes some getting used to. But in a good way. He gave her a quick, admiring look and then went all business again. “That makes three this week, though. Kinda makes me wonder.” “I wonder how many of them get hired by other rehab centers.” She came around the desk and laid her hand on his shoulder, and he let her fragrance wash over him. “You know we check better than anyone else.” “Hell, I check harder than…what do they call it now….Miami-Dade.” Rico chuckled, pulling out another form and clearing the search pane. “If this is gonna work, we gotta do it right. And that means checking all the boxes, not just the easy ones.” “You know it’s after five, right?” “No, I didn’t. Let me run this last one and we’ll get out of here.” Rico typed in the name and hit enter, watching the hourglass on the screen do its thing. “And this one’s clean. I can finish him in the morning. Let me hand off to Tiny and we’ll head home.” Tiny, the exact opposite of his nickname, sat behind the security desk by the main entry. The big glass doors were automatically locked now, entry only possible with a badge and proper authentication by the head of watch. Tiny grinned as Rico came out of the back office. “Callin’ it a day, boss?” “Yeah.” Rico nodded. Tiny had been a member of one of the Marshal’s Office high-risk warrant teams, until he’d ended up on the wrong end of a shotgun welded by a late and unlamented crack dealer. He’d lost his left leg below the knee and was looking at a medical retirement and no real future when Rico hired him to run the night shift. He still had rehab to get through, but Tiny had been there for them during the Task Force days and he wanted to return the favor. “Good deal. We got them all settled down for the night.” He looked down at the log. “All the visitors are clear, and I think I might run an extra foot patrol down by that stretch of fence where the reporter tried to get through last year. Those dudes have short memories.” “Good thinking.” He felt Mindy shift behind him. “See you in the morning, Tiny.” Casa Cooper’s rooftop patio gave them a ringside seat to the neon-glazed sprawl of Miami, and Rico often headed out there with a drink after work. It was Mindy’s night to cook, so he stood alone in the cooling air watching the ice cubes in his glass melt into the scotch. Thinking. Sometimes when he closed his eyes it felt like it was just yesterday he’d dropped his retirement papers on the desk of the bewildered deputy chief who’d just had to absorb an identical packet from Sonny, Castillo, Trudy, Gina, and Stan. And some nights when it was overcast he even felt like he was still in New York until the dank heat gave it all away. Mindy had changed his life for the better in more ways than he could count, but some nights he liked to reach back and touch his past. Remembering where he came from to understand where he was. In some ways it had been hard walking away. He wasn’t an action junkie like Sonny, but he did miss the challenge of the hunt. Spotting the bad guys, luring them out in the open, and then trapping the bastards. And being able to change his name as often as he changed his shirt. Rico Cooper one minute, Teddy Prentiss the next. And waiting in the wings for the bad things Marcus Jefferson. Taking a sip of his scotch, he raised his glass in a silent toast. Sometimes he missed all of them. “How many of those applicants do we need to hire?” He hadn’t heard Mindy come out. “No more than two. One to replace that chump on the night shift who mouthed off to Tiny and the other to replace Hermanez.” “Hermanez quit?” “Yeah. He said something about his wife having to move closer to her mother. The mother’s sick and the other kids can’t help. He didn’t want to go, and he’s gonna be hard to replace. But he’ll get the full payout. Gotta look after family.” She moved to stand beside him, a wine glass in her hand. “It’s that bottle Trudy gave us. Don’t judge; it’s actually kinda good.” “You know me, pretty lady. Wine, whiskey, or water. It’s all the same to me. So long as you’re here.” She smiled and touched his face. “You always find ways of reminding me why I asked you to marry me.” Rico chuckled. “I bet you thought right until the last minute we were going to show up in drag.” “I did! But I was ready for it.” She looked over at the small table and chairs placed to catch the shade thrown by potted trees on the roof. “And it was right over there.” “Yeah. We didn’t have family in, so it just made sense to do it here. Where it all started.” A steady beeping made her slip out of his arms. “And now I gotta go rescue dinner. Did you want to eat out here?” “Naw. Let’s go in and put on some Bird. Pretend we’re anyplace we want to be.”

Thanks but I was sure anyway due to so many matches! key reason why there are no realtor pics is that the family who lives there now bought it in November 1992 from the original owners who built it in 1987. So they heard from the filming first hand but no realtor has stepped onto that lot ever since. The gated community and the heavy foliage in front of the house adds to our problem of not getting any frontal pic of the facade.

S2 is when I really started watching the show, since I was working every other Friday night during S1. That's probably at least part of the reason it feels like my favorite (I say "feels like" because I'd like to watch the whole series in order before picking an actual favorite). The look and feel, the energy, and the way I perceive the characters were all bundled together during S2. I enjoyed many of the episodes in S3, and am one (of apparently the few) who liked the very topical direction of the storytelling. S4 had some good episodes but I felt that quite a bit of the energy and characterization had drained away, for the most part. Child's Play was excellent and Blood and Roses , although flawed, is a favorite of mine. In addition, the major plotline of the Sonny-Caitlin relationship annoyed me. I wouldn't have minded so much if the intro-to-marriage timeline had been extended (I don't think!). But it felt rushed, forced, and like a ratings Hail Mary pass that didn't really jell. S5--Like Robbie, after the Burnett arc it really seemed to drag for me. I was disappointed in Freefall, but by that time I had almost stopped caring if I watched the show or not (I would tape and watch later if I had to work, so it took a little extra effort). S1--I know I watched some S1 episodes, like Evan and Nobody Lives Forever, but am almost sure they were re-broadcast during S2. Most of S1 I never saw until after the show was canceled, when it was picked up by USA (cable) network. So while I like S1 a lot, by the time I watched it I had already formed my opinions about the characters and the show as a whole. Although I don't necessarily like or gravitate to the same characters/episodes as Robbie, the characters and storylines are also more important to me than the style and visuals. The music is another matter; while I"m not a music-head, I believe the music was essential to the ethos of MV. However, without the style and visuals (especially during S1-2), I don't think MV would have attracted the attention it did, nor would we still be hotly discussing it 30 years later

I honestly can't help but love Missing Hours. It's just so surreal and crazy plus I generally enjoy the look and feel of season 4 more than any other season. Like Dick Wolf I prefer the episodes that are a little offbeat. Anything with Izzy in, no matter how much screen time he gets, is fine in my book

Although I didn't like the Voodoo theme dealt with here, I can't say the story wasn't interesting. But there were some scenes, that didn't make sense like, why Tubbs was eager to go to the ceremony without backup and the fact that Castillo let him. And when Tubbs takes the device out of his pocket and places it on the truck, that guy who was driving could clearly see. Also that they let Tubbs get back in duty in that unstable condition after what he had experienced didn't make sense either or how he knew where Marie was hidden, although that he clearly must have heard Legba mentioning at the ceremony. Also why Marie and Gina were on Crockett's boat, instead of somewhere safer. Yeah that was a lot. Looking back on and compared to Season 2 it wasn't unusual for Miami Vice to take on untraditional topics, as we would later also see in S4. But the difference is, that is was more ridiculised over the top.

The movie was a Wes Craven film and was based on Wade Davis' book and research (albeit loosely). https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Serpent_and_the_Rainbow_(book)

This was a fun episode, abstract yet it handled itself well unlike certain season 4 episodes...I really dig the scene with Tubbs injected with the poison, was kinda heavy actually but everything turned out okay.