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“Damn shame those pictures from the Coast Guard never got to us.” Rico looked out the window of the Ferrari as he spoke, so Sonny couldn’t see his eyes. “Yeah, but we gotta move on this. I know you think we’re moving too fast, but we can’t give these guys any room. They’re good, and they’re looking for us. Who knows how much they’ve uncovered already.” “You think they bought someone in Metro-Dade?” “Sure. That and they can always read the paper.” He saw Rico nod. “Yeah. Mindy was telling me about that open source stuff. We did draw some press when we were with OCB. Especially Castillo.” “Yeah. And now we don’t make the papers. That’s gonna tell someone something.” “Yeah…” But there was still doubt in Rico’s voice. “I’m not going cowboy, Rico. We’ve got every base covered as much as we can. No one’s hung out to dry. You’ve all got too much going now. Stan’s married, you’re almost married, Marty’s married. I’m not gonna come up with a plan that puts any of that at more risk than I have to. But if we don’t stop these guys, they’ll keep coming after us.” He cut off a sedan full of tourists. “We’re a threat to them, and we’ve seen how they deal with threats.” “Yeah. I hear you. I know we don’t have more time. And it ain’t just that. It feels like something’s ending.” “Maybe it is, partner. But there’s beginnings all around us. And right now we gotta get our game faces on. We’re almost there.” “Are the birds gonna show? We never got them…” “Randy and Marty took the cash with the guns. They’re set. And with Dave and Jester and Toad there no one’s gonna get any ideas. I think Moneybags sent Jester and Toad because they’re pilots. He’s the kind that covers every base twice, and then puts in overwatch to be sure. Naw, man. That side’s set. And the way Crane looked when he found out it was Unit 8? I think he’d fly the damned mission for free just to square things for that village.” “Let’s do this shit. Marcus is ready to do the deed and then some.” Sonny was extra aware of the weight of his Smith & Wesson under his arm and the Detonics on his ankle. He adjusted his sunglasses one last time and checked his watch. Stan’s tape was timed perfectly, so right about now they would have heard a report of a white Ferrari entering the meeting zone. He shut off the car and stepped out into the late morning heat, feeling sweat beading in the small of his back and along his sides. “Let’s roll.” The marina was one of those spots straddling the old Miami and the new, small coffee shops competing with boutique stores that opened and failed within six months, only to see an almost identical shop with a different name spring up in its place. It was too hot for loitering tourists, but a few people sat in the shade thrown by table umbrellas outside the coffee shops or sprawled in grass shaded by palm trees. The marina itself was closed for renovations, but that didn’t stop people from taking in the views or just killing some time before their next appointment. As he walked feeling the heat from the pavement seeping through the thin soles of his shoes, Sonny imagined the calls going out from Pete to Metro-Dade. The vans moving quietly into position, waiting for the go signal to flash out over the airways. And it would all start here, or on one of the rooftops around the marina. Depending on who shot first. Rico sidled up beside him. “This shit’s for the birds, man. Marcus don’t dig sweating through his threads. These assholes better show.” Sonny turned, seeing a group of three men break away from the dark entryway to one of the coffee shops on the Little Havana side of the marina. “Looks like they’re showing. Two younger dudes and an older guy who must be that captain. Even when they’re playing they still fall in behind him.” He let his face slide into the hard Burnett stare and started across the informal square. Philipe didn’t take his eye from the scope. “I have Burnett and the monkey. Just like those invisible snipers said. Do you have a fix on them yet?” “No. I’m still sweeping. You’re sure this Metro-Dade never goes more than four hundred yards from their observation spot?” “Yes. Their superiors want them to be sure before they shoot, so they have to see faces precisely. Our source insisted.” He squinted a bit as the sun shifted. “Damn it. I don’t want to lose the view.” “Movement.” Castillo’s voice was a whisper on the thick, hot air. “Where?” “Lima 26. You were right on the money.” Randy shifted a hair, his entire being focused on the crosshairs and the world they bisected. “I have two targets.” “Confirm two. The one on your left has a rifle. The other appears to be the spotter.” “Range me.” “Range 1000 yards.” “I have 1005.” “Confirm 1005. Wind is three miles from the east.” “Confirmed.” Randy spun the calculations in his head. “I have them. Waiting for the shot.” “Let Crockett and Tubbs get right up to them. I know you can’t see it. Wait for my go.” “Copy that.” Randy pushed the images of the Vietnamese farmer out of his head. There had bene there, lurking just beyond his conscious thoughts waiting to slip in and fuck with his aim. Be cool. It’s not some punk LT beside you. This guy knows his business. And you saw the rifle. You can make this shot in your Goddamned sleep. He focused on the breath moving in and out of his lungs, pausing halfway through each time. Steady breathing dropping his heart rate. Seeing the small bounce in the crosshairs steady out into its own pulse. He sensed Castillo shifting, but didn’t alter his aim or position. The other shooters seemed to be moving for a better angle. “They’re moving.” “Adjusting their view. Wait for it.” “Copy that. Holding.” But it was hard. He could feel the rough trigger under his index finger, the warm wood of the stock against his cheek and the buttplate wedged into the pocket of his shoulder. Castillo’s voice when it came wasn’t a surprise. “Green light.” Sonny didn’t change his expression as the older man drew near. “So you’re the one who’s calling the shots.” “No. But I am the one you must deal with.” Salazar nodded but didn’t offer his hand. “To the point. Good. Marcus and I don’t have time to waste.” “Neither do we. I understand your companion claims to have access to transportation routes to New York.” “Marcus don’t claim. Marcus does. And so far all Marcus hears from you people is talk.” “And I don’t trust someone who talks about himself in third person. But we’ll set that aside now. I think you both know what my people can do if you don’t work with us.” “Yeah. Pile up heads. But if you pile up ours, you lose access to what we have.” Sonny pursed his lips. “My people will disappear if you take me out, and if you take out Marcus his people will do the same. Then you’re left empty handed. That won’t look good to the boss.” “And you don’t make money if you’re dead. So we propose a ten percent tax on what you move. In exchange you get access to our product and we will steer people to you so you can move their product.” “That ten percent come off retail or wholesale?” “Whatever the client is paying for the product. How you collect that is your affair, but we will insist on our ten percent.” Sonny looked at Rico, pretending to consider. “How do we know you ain’t gonna raise the rate? Or that some other bunch of gunslingers isn’t going to come up and demand the same thing? You cave once in this business, you’re making yourself an easy mark.” “If anyone comes up, we take them out. That is our end of the bargain. If anyone makes trouble, you let us know and we make the trouble go away. That saves you the cost of hiring extra men.” “And if we say no?” Salazar smiled and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small hand radio. “Then we demonstrate our reach.” He keyed the mic and started to say something in Spanish. He was partway through when two quick rifle shots echoed through the marina. Sonny looked at him and smiled. “Seems you got our answer.” His fingers closed around the butt of his 4506-1 as Salazar started to turn. The two men behind him clawed for their pistols, their eyes going wide as bullets tore gaping holes in their chests. The .45 shots were so fast it sounded like a machine gun instead of four men with pistols. Sonny’s pistol had just cleared the holster when Moneybags’ team entered his field of view, their .45s in steady two-hand grips. The team leader fired three times, and Salazar spun away in a spray of blood and bone. Randy shot first for the man with the rifle, letting out half a break before he felt the rifle recoil back into his shoulder, He threw the bolt before the echoes of the first shot reached his ears, calling “hit” from a deep reflex, and then brought the rifle back on target. He picked up the spotter, more a speck among other specks at that distance, and felt the trigger break again. “Hit.” Another smoking cartridge spun away from the breech of his Remington. “Both targets down.” Castillo swept the distant roof with his spotting scope. “Confirm both targets down.” Then he raised the radio as distant pistol shots rolled out fast enough to sound like automatic weapons fire. “Execute. I say again, execute. Launch the birds and hit all targets. Green light.” Only then did Randy feel the adrenalin start to flow. And the reality also sank in. He’d make two kills in as many seconds, one of them likely the bastard who’d shot Dave. But years of drill and training pushed his feelings aside. “We gotta move,” he said, gathering up the spent brass and his rifle. “Five mikes until the birds get here, and we got ground to cover.” Castillo nodded. “Nice shooting, Randy.” “Just doing my job, captain.” But he felt a smile spreading over his face. “Now let’s move or we’ll be left holding our dicks in the middle of the square down there.” Sonny got his earphone in just in time to hear Castillo launch the raids. He’d clipped his marshal’s badge on his jacket, more to keep the screaming bystanders away than anything else. Most had the good sense to run, and the few who tried to stick around or take pictures were herded back by Rico and Casanova. He looked down at his pistol, feeling silly for just holding it in his hand. “Your guys are fast.” “Comes with the territory.” Moneybags almost smiled. “Let’s get their weapons and get ready to move. You hear what I hear?” Sonny nodded, the distinctive thump of twin rotors reaching his ears over the screams and echoes from the shooting. “Choppers inbound. Marty and Randy better get moving.” As he helped Moneybags police up the Berettas the dead men had been carrying, and emptying their pockets for intel, he tried not to think of the other raids going in. Of Mindy, Trudy, Stan, and Lester with the warrant teams heading into what could be ambushes or serious firefights. They had their own battle waiting for them over the water in a place called Red. The birds came in over the water, low enough to kick up waves and maybe hit a careless surfer with a skid. Sonny looked at them and grinned. The pilots had taken it on themselves to paint both birds jet black. Moneybags laughed. “Guess we’ll be ‘black helicopter UN assassins’ before lunch,” he shouted over the thumping rotors and whining engines. Somewhere Dave had picked up mirrored aviator sunglasses, and he grinned at Sonny from behind an M-60 suspended on a bungie cord from the upper door frame. As soon as the skids touched pavement he waved his good arm. “Get on, boss! We got some pictures for you from the Coasties. That’s Gus on the far door gun. He’s good people.” Sonny nodded, jumping on and reaching for the plain manila envelope. Moneybags was right behind him, and he handed three of the six pictures to the Delta team leader. Once they both had headsets on Sonny swung his mic down. “Pictures of Red,” he said as the others boarded their birds, Castillo and Randy last and out of breath from their run. Moneybags nodded, looking closely at his before trading with Sonny. “Those defenses aren’t serious,” he said at last. “More the kind of thing a unit does out of habit. Nothing deep, no solid overhead cover. No threat.” By chance they’d climbed on Jackson Crane’s bird, and he looked back from the left front seat. Sonny noticed Toad in the right seat and grinned. So the big guy could fly, too. “Looks like you got some of those bastards. We ready to hit the rest?” Castillo came on the short-range net. “Yes. Mr. Cole says he’s good to go.” Sonny felt a smiled building on his face. Leave it to Marty to use their old ranks. Warrant officers were always mister, and the damned best pilots in Nam. “Let’s get this done, gents. As far as we know this is a free fire zone, but keep your eyes open just the same.” Gus looked over. He was a skinny guy with red-rimmed eyes. The kind the war had gotten ahold of and never quite let go. “We’ll take these guys down for you, mister. I saw what these animals did in that village with Mr. Crane. And maybe after I’ll sleep good at night again.” Before Sonny could reply Jackson pulled pitch and the Huey shot into the thick air like it had been shot from a cannon. He banked hard over the city, avoiding major air traffic routes, and started climbing. “We’ll take the first leg high, and drop down low about a mile or so out. You boys might want to get your gear ready.” He chuckled. “And we brought fatigues along so you two don’t ruin those pretty suits or that Henderson jersey. That would be a damned shame.” The wind whipping through the open cargo bay made changing tricky, and Sonny scrambled into his fatigues with one hand while stuffing his slacks and blazer into the gear bag with the other. He listened with half an ear to Moneybags running through the assault plan with his men, knowing they’d be tagging along behind in any case. He didn’t want to get in the way of these men. Besides, there was the document retrieval mission to consider. Still, he couldn’t put the other raids out of his mind. They’d be going in by now, Brick and the other deputies in the lead with Task Force personnel along for the ride. The warrant teams knew the score…Pete would be straight with them about what they were walking into. He hoped they’d gotten everyone at the meeting site. The last thing he wanted to think about was one of the teams walking into a trap. Rico punched his arm, and he pulled the earphones away from his head. “They’ll be fine, Sonny!” The shouted words were swept almost immediately out the door. “Yeah! Gotta worry, though!” He looked out the door at the water flashing by under them. The cool metal of his CAR-15 was starting to warm under his fingers, and he checked the magazine out of habit he’d thought forgotten. Jackson’s voice came over the headphones. “Test the guns, boys. We’re far enough out no one’s gonna notice.” Short bursts from the door guns were muffled chatter through the headphones, and he saw Dave and Gus look at each other and nod. “Good to go,” Gus said, patting the feed cover of his gun. Looking out, Sonny saw quick flashes from Jimmy’s bird and heard similar calls over the local net. His gut was turning into a familiar ball. He hadn’t been on many combat assaults during his time in Vietnam. Marines didn’t do as many of those as the Cav, and MPs did even fewer than the rest. He could hear Jackson and Jimmy talking pilot-talk, and the birds started to descend. “We’re about ten minutes out, boys,” Jackson said in a voice devoid of stress. He could have been talking about the local weather or some movie he’d just seen. “No word on the others, but those fancy boys are jamming the net but good. If Red’s trying to talk, they’re getting nothing but static.” Castillo’s voice came over the air. “Good. Lock and load, people. We’ll make one pass for suppressive fire and then they’ll put us in. The birds will hang back for fire support, and come in on our signal for extraction. Fuel’s an issue, so we’ll have no more than twenty minutes on the ground.” Sonny felt his blood run cold when Moneybags came on. “Let’s finish these fuckers.” The Hueys came lower and lower until they were a handful of feet above the churning waves. Looking out, Sonny imagined he could see fish just below the surface, maybe looking up and wondering what the hell was going on. Moneybags’ face was frozen in a blank stare, and Sonny wondered just how many birds he’d ridden into hot LZ. Nam alone must have provided quite a few, and who knows how many after that. Hatchet sat next to him, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. But his carbine was locked and loaded and ready to go. Even Dave was leaning partway out the cargo door, starting to look for targets, and across from him Gus was doing the same thing. How many years has it been since he did this? But there he is…halfway out the fuckin’ door looking for targets. Sonny shook his head, knowing he didn’t deserve to be among such men. He wondered how Rico must feel. All this was new to his partner, and he could see traces of unease and maybe fear in his dark eyes. But still he had that carbine ready, following the lead of Hatchet and trying to look unconcerned. The bird dropped a bit more and nosed down, picking up speed. “Thirty seconds. You’re cleared hot, guys. Let the fuckers have it.” Both Gus and Dave were only half in the Huey now, leaning out and looking for targets. They flashed over the beach, going from water to sand in half a heartbeat. Dave fired first, sending a quick burst into one of the foxholes. “Hit,” he announced calmly into the intercom. Then Gus got in the act. They shot over a small courtyard between the big house and three smaller cabins, and he sent a long burst into a group of men starting to break for cover. “Three, no four down,” he shouted. “Get some!” The bird banked hard right, and Sonny held on to the center support post to keep from sliding out. Without looking he knew Jimmy was breaking left. As they came level, Dave fired some short, quick bursts, and he heard what sounded like rocks smacking a tin can. “Taking fire,” Jackson announced in that dead calm voice. “Not for long.” Dave fired three more bursts. “Two down by the shed.” “Got three breaking for cover.” Gus opened fire, seeming to find his groove with short, measured bursts. “Make that three down.” Sonny tried to focus on the chatter from the other bird, but it was all turning into a blur of flashes and barking machine guns. Then Moneybags slapped his arm, pointing down. Sonny nodded. We’re going in. He pulled off his headset and tossed it on the cargo floor. No one needed to talk now. Jackson flared the Huey and settled the skids on cobblestones laid to form a courtyard. Sonny and Rico scrambled off, trying to keep pace with Moneybags and Hatchet, who were moving like flowing quicksilver as soon as their feet touched the ground. Then the bird was gone in a blast of wind and noise, leaving them on solid ground with God knows how many men trying to kill them. As his ears stopped ringing, Sonny could hear the snap and whine of rounds going past him as he sprinted for cover. Somewhere in front of him Moneybags was triggering off short, precise bursts, and he was damned sure someone died with each one. But Sonny wasn’t in that league. He could lay down some suppressing fire as soon as he got to cover, but he knew the second the touched down that Moneybags and his men were several degrees above him when it came to firefights. Ducking behind an ornamental brick wall surrounding the courtyard, he risked a quick look at the house. It looked like someone had picked up a movie set Southern mansion and plunked it down on an island in the middle of nowhere. Nothing about it fit, and right now it was getting shot to pieces by the door gunners on the two birds. He could see bodies scattered across the courtyard where men had been taken by surprise, but he could also hear men shouting orders over the thump of the Hueys and roar of the M-60s. Crawling low, he made it to Moneybags and tapped his shoulder. “Someone’s getting those bastards organized.” “Yeah. I hear it. Sounds like at least two. One’s a dirty old NCO by his cussing.” Sonny focused. “That would be the sergeant major. Pascal I think his name is.” “Gordo Pascal.” There was a hint of familiarity and a lot of hate in Moneybags’ voice. “He’s a fucking dead man.” He raised a finger and Hatchet slid over. “That’s Gordo in there.” The former Marine’s eyes went dark. “You sure?” Moneybags nodded toward Sonny. “He says so.” “He’s mine.” Moneybags nodded, raising his hand radio. “We need to hit the house. I want an assault formation on the windows to the east of the main door. It looks like the weak spot. Castillo, have your people put suppression fire on the front door. Distract them.” Randy’s voice echoed through the radio. “I’ll do more than distract. I brought a damned M-14.” “Kill what you see.” “Copy that.” The deep booms of 7.62 NATO started punching over the lighter 5.56 of Unit 8’s M-16s. “Go!” Sonny popped up over the wall, triggering short bursts in the direction of the front doors. He could sense Rico doing the same, and then watched as Moneybags and his men moved across the open ground. Dust kicked around them as bullets started tracking, only to be slapped back as Sonny and Rico started blasting at any muzzle flashes they saw. And Dave’s rifle boomed over it all. Sonny paused to reload, then felt his jaw go slack as he saw Castillo break cover and start moving with Delta. Rico saw it at the same instant. “Fucking Marty’s going in!” “Not without us!” Without thinking he was on his feet and moving, sending quick bursts at the windows and door to cover his own movement. Rico followed him, and in seconds they were pressed against the clapboard sides of the faux mansion, slamming fresh magazines into their smoking carbines. One of the Hueys roared overhead, its door guns ripping splinters from the walls and shattering windows. Moneybags looked at his men. “Moving,” he barked. Hatchet slung his carbine and hauled out a pump shotgun. “Go!” Sonny had never seen men move so fast and with such purpose. One minute they were there and the next he heard gunshots blasting from the room on the other side of the window. The drills, the kill house, had been one thing. This was something different. Castillo moved right behind them, his big .44 ready in his hands. When Sonny and Rico cleared the window all they found were three bodies crumpled near the door. Somewhere deeper in the house a grenade exploded, followed by a rolling blast of gunfire and the booms of a shotgun. All he could hope to do was keep up. Colonel Rodrigo Delacruz could feel sweat sliming the grips of his .45. Where had they come from? One minute he had been trying to raise Captain Salazar on the malfunctioning radios and the next his men were being cut down by accurate fire from old Hueys someone had painted black. And now they were under attack. Real attack by men whose skills were unlike any he had ever seen. He could hear Gordo shouting somewhere, trying to rally the men. But he could smell their panic in the air over the cordite. The unit, his unit, was falling apart. A panicked private ran by, shouting they were overrun, and Rodrigo shot him between the shoulder blades. “Stand and fight! All cowards will be shot!” He looked around the big second story study he’d converted into his office, wondering where to go. Another of those damned helicopters roared overhead, its door guns chattering. He heard screams and thuds as bullets tore into his men, cutting them down as they tried to return fire. And below, another grenade exploded with a dull whump. He’d only heard of one unit that could attack this way. But it wasn’t possible. His contact in the Agency would have warned him. A corporal went to the window to look out, and his head vanished in a spray of blood and bone. The others ducked out of reflex. “Stay away from the windows!” one of them yelled. “They’re got a sniper out there!” Looking around, fighting down his own panic, he found a sergeant. “Get more men to the stairwell! They can’t break through. Do you understand?” Wide-eyed, the man nodded and turned to carry out his orders. Somehow. If there were more men to get. Rodrigo looked over at the two privates who made up his own escort. “Where are the other two? Never mind. It’s not like they can run anywhere. I’ll have them shot once this is over. We need to get to the sergeant major and rally the men.” His voice climbed to a scream. “We are Unidad Ocho! We make people panic! Now stop pissing your pants like little girls and act like men!” None of this made sense. How had it happened? But he could still salvage things. The detail in the next room would be intact, and with those men he could reach Gordo and begin setting things right. A series of rapid booms sounded from the adjacent bedroom and then the study door crashed open. Martin Castillo was wearing plain green fatigues, not unlike those he’d worn in Laos all those years ago. He’d peeled away from Moneybags and his men as soon as they cleared the room on the ground floor. Let them hunt the sergeant major and the others. He had bigger game in mind. Cut off the head and the snake dies. Especially if it’s a military-bred snake. He’d learned that years ago. It had been a simple thing to get to the second floor and equally simply to kill the men trying to guard their commender. The big Smith & Wesson felt good in his hand as he kicked the door open and relished the look of fear on Rodrigo Delacruz’s face. There were two younger men with him, but Castillo saw the fear plastered across their faces and ignored them. “You never should have come to Miami.” “And who are you to say that I can’t?” “The man with a bigger message than yours.” Castillo had seen the .45 in Rodrigo’s hand, even as the man turned to hide it. “You think so? My men will kill yours and continue with our business.” “How? Your main contact is a cop. My cop. The Company gave you up. You have no friends, Rodrigo. Only death awaits you.” “Not if I…” Castillo brought the .44 magnum up in a single smooth motion. Rodrigo’s Colt was barely to chest height before the first massive slug tore a hole the size of a baseball in his chest. The second slug turned his head into a spray of bone and brains. He was dead before he hit the floor. The privates started to react when pistols boomed behind him. The two men tumbled to the floor, each shot at least three times. Without turning he knew his men had caught up with him. Castillo lowered his smoking pistol and looked behind him for Crockett and Tubbs. “Get those documents secured. Everything in the desk. I want it gone before Moneybags and his men arrive.” Sonny looked from the headless body to Castillo and back. “You heard the man, Tubbs. Let’s get to it.” As he rummaged through the desk, stuffing papers and files into his rucksack, Sonny tried not to look at the bodies. But it was hard not to. Gunfire still erupted in short bursts from inside the house, but they were getting more and more sporadic. Then there was a quick series of shotgun blasts, and the house went quiet except for echoes chasing each other through the halls and the thump of the two choppers. Rico looked at his watch. “We gotta go.” Castillo nodded, unclipping a grenade from his gear. “Stand back and cover your eyes.” The white phosphorus exploded with a white flash and started to burn the desk and everything around it. “Let’s go.” Sonny cast a last glance at the body of Delacruz as the flames started to lick around it. So much death caused by one man. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Then Rico grabbed his arm. “Come on, Sonny! We gotta go!” He didn’t remember anything else until they were on the bird and it started climbing into the cool air and the clouds. Sonny had managed to find himself again by the time they landed at the Coast Guard station. He wasn’t sure what had happened, and didn’t know if he wanted to know. Maybe it was some kind of Vietnam thing triggered by the Hueys. The air on the flight back was cool and clean, and the wind through the cabin washed the cordite stench from their clothes. Moneybags had gone out on the other Huey, likely so he could talk to Castillo, and Sonny found himself next to Hatchet. The former Marine still clutched his shotgun, but there was a satisfied smile on his face. Sonny had to know. “Find your guy?” “Yeah. He started blubbering, but four double ought twelve gauge shells have a way of making someone stop whining.” “You knew him?” Hatchet sat silent for a time, looking out at the blue water flashing by below them. “You see his file?” “Some of it, yeah.” “The girl he damned near killed? She was my girlfriend. Fucker beat her so bad she lost sight in one eye. And they covered it up and sent him on his way. She killed herself a year later. Just couldn’t deal with what had happened. And I was deployed so much I couldn’t do a damned thing.” Sonny shook his head. “I’m sorry, man.” “Don’t be. Not now. That account’s closed for good.” Sonny nodded, understanding just how the man felt. He’d had the same sense of empty closure when he shot Hackman. Knowing it was done combined with knowing it came too late to do any real good. But at least it kept the bastard from hurting anyone else. There’d been a lot of that on Isla de las Arenas Rojas that day. They came in low again, slipping over a wire fence and touching down at one of the Coast Guard stations dotting the coast. Sonny guessed it must have been the staging area. As the Hueys wound down and the others went about gathering their gear and removing the guns for the birds, he found both Jimmy and Jackson and shook their hands. “You guys did great. And so did Gus and your other gunner. Payment will go to your accounts as soon as I get back to the office.” Jackson shifted from one foot to the other and looked at Jimmy. “Hell, I can’t say it.” Jimmy nodded. “Sonny, we want the other half to go to the Vet Center. You gave us a chance to do some good, and now we want to pay that forward.” “You’re sure?” “Yeah. We all talked about it before we launched. So long as you clear our records…” “Already done. And I can take care of the others, too, if you have anything outstanding.” Gus shrugged. “Nothing I can’t man up to. But I’ll sleep a damned sight better knowing I cut down some of those bastards.” Sonny nodded, feeling a lump growing in his throat. “You boys take care now, hear? And get those birds repainted before the militias think the UN is taking over.” Jimmy laughed. “You got it. It was good working with you again, Sonny. You and your people take care, too.” Not trusting his voice, Sonny nodded and turned away. Moneybags and his team were clustered close by, and it was Hatchet who spoke first. “That stripper who almost got beat to death? She was my girl. I already told Crockett, but the rest of you should know, too. No one let me square it back then, but I owe you now.” Sonny shook his head. “Naw. It’s all good. Like I said in the air, I know how you felt.” “They’ll need a baggie to send him home.” Hatchet grinned, and then his eyes got serious. “Still, man. I owe you.” Moneybags stepped forward. “We all owe you, Crockett. You, your team, and Marty. This was a hell of an assignment. You all take care now, hear?” “Yeah. You guys, too. I can’t say I’ve worked with better. You’re not gonna stick around for the debrief?” “We’d like to, but places to go and all that shit. Slats and Red Ball are probably already off station.” Moneybags shook his head, his eyes suddenly tired. “It’s like you guys, brother. Always another mission.” Toad spoke up. “But it’s not always a good one like this. We got to take out some seriously bad dudes, with no strings attached. Been a few years since I’ve been able to do that. I gotta say it feels good. Been a pleasure working with you.” He looked across the helipad and grinned. “Looks like our ride’s here.” Sonny watched them team pile into a plain black van and drive away. He felt Castillo move next to him. “We’ll never see them again, but you should feel honored at having a chance to work with the best.” “I do.” He smiled, then thought back to how he’d felt on the island. “And it also told me it’s time to go. I damned near froze up on that island, Marty. It was like I was moving through a fog. If a simple ride on a Huey does that to me…” “I understand. I felt the same thing, but differently. Working with them was like working with my old team in Laos. I felt the thrill of the hunt. And that means it’s time to go.” He looked over at the Hueys starting to crank again. “We’ll talk more later. Let’s get back and see how the others did.” “Yeah. There’s been no word…” “Switek updated me on the flight back. The raids went as planned with no casualties on our side. The stiffest resistance came at Brick’s target location, but once the officer there was killed it went quickly.” The ride back to Task Force headquarters was quiet, each man wrapped in his own thoughts and the smell of burned powder coming from the weapons. Castillo drove with Randy in the passenger seat, leaving Sonny, Dave, and Rico slumped in the back with the assorted gear bags and rucksacks. Sonny kept the one stuffed with documents close to his side. Dave looked like he was asleep, which wouldn’t surprise Sonny. He’d seen the deputy pop a couple of pain pills as soon as they’d touched down. Rico hadn’t said much since they touched down, but now, slumped against the hot sheet metal side of the van, he let out a long sigh. “Damn! You feel like you just went twelve rounds with the champ and got your ass kicked in each round?” “Yeah. I don’t know what it was, but that was worse than the firefight we had at Moncado’s place. Or even that tussle with Holmes and his rednecks.” Sonny shook his head. “Part of it was the ride in, I think. Felt like I was back in Nam half the time, and we didn’t ride Hueys that much.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. Half the time I was thinking about Mindy. Hoping she was ok. Man, it’s…” “We have things to lose now. And we know we do. That changes everything. Before…I never realized it until I lost them. But not now, partner.” The others were waiting in the conference room when they lugged all the gear off the elevator. Mindy’s pale skin was streaked with burned powder, and Sonny thought he saw a scratch or two on Trudy’s face. But Stan and Lester were still beaming with excitement. Before anyone could start talking, Castillo spoke. “I want copies made of all documents we recovered. Distribute them as usual. We’ll turn the originals in to Chief Deputy Washington, but this is one mission we will need our insurance for. Make no mistake about that.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. The Company likes having other people handle its dirty laundry, but they also like cleaning that trail up from time to time.” Mindy took the rucksack from Sonny and added it to her bag and the ones she’d taken from Trudy and Lester. “Trudy had the most, but that’s because Brick’s team hit the communications hub. Mine looked to be more of a safe house for the rank and file. Some hookers, lots of booze and guns, and not much else.” Stan nodded. “Same here. Ours seemed a little more high-speed, but it might have had a higher concentration of guys who’d trained in the US. They had cameras and some short-range radio gear. I think they were the ones who were watching the hospital while Dave was laid up.” “And where I’ll be laid up again.” Dave moved his arm and winced. “Think I popped some stitches or some shit.” Randy chuckled. “Let’s go look at that, you damned mule. Couldn’t miss a firefight, could you?’ “Hell no.” But Dave got up and followed Randy to the bathroom. Trudy looked around the room. “The one we hit was their Miami command post. No question. The had an officer there, a lieutenant. Seemed like a nasty customer. He was trying to rally the troops when I shot him.” She looked at Castillo. “There were no prisoners. He shot two who tried to give up.” Sonny nodded. “We saw that on the island, too.” “Was there any trouble from Metro-Dade?” “No.” Trudy smiled. “Pete must have chewed on them good. I looked through the stuff we got from the first target, and I don’t think they had any other locations in Miami. They might own property, but they didn’t have enough trained men to staff more locations.” “We’ll go through the documents tomorrow.” Castillo looked around the table. “As part of the process of closing down the Task Force. I had a message from Pete Washington waiting for me when we got back. They gave him the choice of retiring or accepting a promotion and transfer to DC. He’s going to retire and, in his words, ‘eat too much barbecue, drink too much good Southern whisky, and pretend to fish.’” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. Anyone coming in after Pete would want to ‘change’ things.” He paused, looking around, “And after today I think I’m ready to call it a day. But first, let me call Robbie. We just shut down the worst crew we’ve ever gone after. That calls for a party, damn it.” Castillo nodded. “I’ll let the Chief Deputy know.” “And have him invite the warrant teams, too. Hell, we couldn’t have done this without them.” In the end Robbie closed down the entire back half of The Sanctuary for the party. “Look, man, I don’t know what the hell you guys did, but it must be something important. And don’t worry about the bill. I got this.” He grinned. “Especially if you’re serious about getting out.” “Yeah. I am.” Sonny looked out at his friends, seeing the smiles on their faces and hearing the laughter and good-natured joking. “The raid today…it really got in my head. Hueys and everything. I don’t know.” “Maybe you should talk to someone. I did, and it helped me.” Robbie raised a hand. “Yeah, I know big, bad Sonny Crockett don’t talk to no headshrinker. But this guy’s a vet himself. He knows the score.” Sonny started to protest, then stopped. Hell, he knew Robbie was right. “Give me his number. I’ll set something up as soon as he’s got an opening.” He looked out again, seeing Jenny’s smiling face as she spoke with Trudy and Mindy. “I owe it to her to get my head straight.” “Things change when you have someone else to care about.” Robbie smiled. “Now let’s get out there and have a real celebration!” Mindy had just broken the word of her upcoming wedding to Rico, and Stan and Randy were already asking if they could be bridesmaids and offering to help pick out his dress. Sonny laughed with them, taking a drink of his beer and them moving through the group to Gina. “I hear you’re taking the job with the House,” he said with a smile. “Yeah. Jenny and Angie are hard to say no to when they get an idea in their heads.” She paused. “And it really seems like time for a change.” “Yeah. You can only stay on that side of the badge for so long.” She nodded. “Is it true the Task Force is disbanding? I heard Marty and Pete talking about that.” “Looks like it.” “You know Stan won’t go back to Metro-Dade.” “And he doesn’t need to. Gina, I’ve never been more blind about someone in my life than I was about Stan. He and Lester can do anything they want. Stan’s a hell of a leader, he’s smart as hell, and there isn’t an ounce of quit in him. Metro-Dade doesn’t deserve him.” She nodded, blinking back tears. “I…” “Just enjoy the night, Gina. And maybe help them pick out Rico’s dress. I don’t think he’d look good in Hawaiian print.” He found his partner over by the bar, ordering another Scotch and looking like he needed a moment of quiet. “Looks like you got the bridesmaids settled.” “Yeah. I am tempted to go in drag, though. Just to make those chumps do the same thing.” Rico’s smile was thin. “You should be happy, partner.” “I am, Sonny. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. But when the Task Force goes…” “Caitlin’s House is going to need a head of security. You know the past likes to come back on those girls. I want someone who will make them feel safe and keep them safe. And we both know what that takes sometimes. I won’t always be around to do it, and I want someone I can trust.” “Sonny…I…” “Talk about it with Mindy first.” He gestured toward the beautiful redhead with his beer bottle. “You gotta share now, Rico.” He stayed by the bar once his partner moved away, content to just watch the people he cared about enjoy themselves. It might be the last time they got together as a group, and he wanted the image engraved on his mind. He was so intent he didn’t notice Jenny until she spoke. “I’m sad, too, Sonny.” He looked down. She was beautiful in a deep blue silk dress hugging her firm body like it had been painted on. Her heels brought her eyes almost even with his, and he could see the sparkle and realized the silk matched her eyes perfectly. “Yeah, but it’s time.” “Yes. I could see it on you when you came home. You can’t look after them forever.” “But I can try. I offered Rico the security job. Marty…he’ll retire with Trudy to the beach and be happy. I’ll keep an eye on Stan and Lester through Gina, and Dave and Randy will probably go home. They keep talking about missing mountains, so it’s only a matter of time.” “What about you?” “I’ve got you. And…” He paused, then plowed ahead. “Robbie gave me a number. Someone to talk to about Nam. That mission today…I almost froze up. It…” “I’m glad. That place still haunts you. I want to help, but you need to talk to someone who understands.” She stretched up on her toes and kissed him. “I’m so proud you decided to take that step. It’s not easy.” “No. It’s not. But I gotta be solid. For you. And I can’t do that if I’m not solid with myself.” He grinned and raised his bottle in Robbie’s direction. “Bastard was right again.” “Should we go back down?” “In a minute. Right now I just want to stand here with you.” He slipped his arm around her, feeling her press in against him. “This is when I’m happiest.” “Me too, darlin’. Me too.” He smiled, realizing it was true. He could feel a page turning in his heart, closing one book and opening a new one. And for the first time in years, Sonny Crockett was looking forward to the ride.

Mindy O’Laughlin smiled as Stan switched off the tape. “That’s really good. Sounded just like one of the Narcotics surveillance teams.” The big detective grinned. “Yeah. It’s amazing what you can do with voice filters these days. I just hope they bought it.” “I don’t see how they couldn’t. You baited the hook perfectly.” She looked around the confined space of the Tech Room, her hair shifting as one of the rotating fans pushed air her way. “Sorry about that. We gotta keep them going to keep the place coolish.” “It’s ok, Stan.” She smiled, sensing he was a little uncomfortable. Sitting next to him, Lester watched needles jump and twitch on the various frequencies he was monitoring. Nothing seemed to bother him. She was a little nervous herself, but not about the tape. It was what lay around corner that kept her heat jumping. Not only was she getting married, but she might be leaving the only career she’d ever known. And all of it could be taken away in a second by a random bullet from those Unit 8 assholes. How Trudy stayed so cool was a puzzle to her. She’d been shot, her husband had been shot, and she still smiled and laughed and did her little drawings when she thought no one else was looking. Mindy envied her calm. But her skills had come from a different place, one with nights spent half asleep, listening with one ear for the crash that announced her father’s return from a late patrol shift and half a bottle of cheap whiskey. Her cue to hide until the shouting and crashing stopped and the snoring started. She still twitched awake from time to time, settling back down as soon as she felt Rico’s presence in bed next to her. She was sure he knew she woke up, but he never asked. Just hugged her every morning and told her how lucky he was to have her in his life. Lester shifted, breaking into her thoughts. “I got something. It’s down in that range we think they favor. Damned weak, though. We don’t have a good enough antenna.” Stan pounced. “But if we got it, those two in the air sure as hell did. They’ve got shit in that plane that hasn’t been invented yet.” Reaching over, he hit the mike and made a quick transmission. “Alpha Four, two niner zero foxtrot baker.” “Copy.” Red Ball’s voice sounded flatter than normal through the speaker. “They got it. And now the fun starts.” Mindy nodded. “You boys have fun. I’m gonna go check some of those property records again.” Back in the office she shared with Trudy, Mindy tried to focus on the searched. But she kept coming back to Rico’s dark brown eyes. How much she’d tried to deny she was falling in love with him, and how strong it had been once she was finally honest with herself. Still, a corner of her mind kept chewing on the problem. Converted houses on the edges of Little Havana. Small, old apartment buildings. The three story converted kind she knew from South Boston. Her fingers tapped on the keys, entering a search string before hitting enter to send it on its way. Narrowing her focus with each added parameter. As the results scrolled up she narrowed them by selecting only transactions in the last six months. Then narrowing again by going with foreign buyers. They all used local agents to try to hide, but the title change always showed the real buyer. And she narrowed again by those without loans. She didn’t think Unit 8 had been active long enough, or was quite rich enough, to own its own bank. Not yet, at least. The activity also kept her from thinking of everything that could go wrong tonight. Just stay at it until Rico came bopping through those doors and they could head home together. She wasn’t sure why it was suddenly on her mind, and she wished Trudy was still here to talk to. But she’d gone home an hour ago, trusting her to hold the fort until the boys came home. Her search finished at about the same time Rico and Sonny came through the door. She smiled, feeling a familiar tingle when she saw Rico in the street threads of Marcus. She was about to speak when Stan came bursting out of the Tech Room. “We got something. I relayed to the air boys and they’re on it now.” Sonny smiled at Mindy, and she wondered if he could sense her nervousness. “Good, but that’s for tomorrow. They won’t be down for another hour yet, at least, so close on down and get some sleep. If they got what we hope they did, tomorrow’s gonna be damned busy.“ He turned to Rico. “I’m gonna call Jimmy and put the birds on short alert. He needs to be ready to launch within fifteen minutes of our call. Why don’t you and Mindy head on home? She looks beat.” She nodded her thanks. “I am, boss. I just need to print this last search and we can go.” “Solid.” Rico put his arm around her. “I could use some Bird and a quiet meal after tonight.” She was leaning over the printer, watching the search results spool out, when she felt him press against her backside and his hands slip up around her hips. “I missed you, pretty lady.” “I missed you, too.” She pushed back against him to show just how much she’d missed his touch. “This is almost done.” “Mmmm.” He had strong hands, and she felt his fingers grip and release. She felt her cheeks getting warm, knowing a bright blush was spreading under her cheekbones and hiding her freckles. “Ok, got it. Let’s get out of here before we makes fools of ourselves.” “Didn’t you want to look through that stuff?” “It can wait until morning. I can’t.” She smiled. “There’s something about that Marus look…” “Yeah, and that’s the one thing Marcus don’t do fast.” Rico smiled, touching her backside again. “Did you want to get something to eat on the way home?” “Only if it’s carry out.” The warm feeling was still settling in and calling for his touch. “We’ll grab some Chinese from that place near Casa Cooper.” The drive seemed slower than usual, but Mindy knew it was because of her feelings. That and her desire to leave work behind for a few hours and just enjoy being with Rico. This case had kept them jumping, and she was looking forward to down time. No matter how it came their way. He’d just started a Bird disk on the stereo when she let the straps of her dress slip off her shoulders and shrugged the rest of the smooth silk away. The air conditioning was cool on her freckled skin, and she stood just in shadow, waiting for him to turn. When he did, she heard his gasp. “I decided food can wait.” “I second that, pretty lady.” He closed the distance in two steps, and she felt his firm hands on her body. “I second that.” By the time they got to their food it was stone cold, but neither of them cared. Castillo sat, looking out toward the sound of the waves, his habitual cup of green tea in his hand. Behind him he could hear Trudy playing the piano, the discordant bits hinting it was part of the suite she was composing in honor of Ti Ti. A faint smile floated across his face. She’d never met the man, but had somehow managed to capture some of the essence of what the Nung had been. Moneybags had been waiting for him in the garage when he left. “Your team’s good,” he announced without fanfare. “I think they spotted two of my guys, and we got a good handle on the Unit 8 idiots. They had three men in there, and at least one of them blew his cover to your boys.” Thinking back it brought another smile to his face. That was high praise coming from Moneybags, especially given the skill level of his team. Castillo knew his people were good, but they never operated overseas. He knew the Delta team did, and did so frequently. It was just another reminder of how the Job was changing, and how it was time to get out. At least they’d gotten Unit 8 on the air. Stan had called just after Crockett left to confirm that. Castillo had no doubt the guys in the plane would have a fix on the transmitters, and any other traffic that flowed from those locations. He knew Unit 8 was still looking for them, but they had the edge now. Both in technology and manpower. It was the end game, and he knew that was when you needed to be most careful. Things had a way of going wrong when you relaxed in the home stretch. The music stopped, and Trudy came out moments later to join him. “I needed a break,” she said, sitting down next to him and looking out into the darkness. “It was…” “Getting too close.” “Yes. How did you know?” “I could feel it. I have no other explanation.” “And you don’t need one, my love.” She sipped her own tea and smiled. “Just like I know you’re thinking about the operation.” “Yes. So much can still go wrong. We have the edge on those animals, but we still need to be careful.” “Is this…” She paused, and when she continued her voice was so soft it was almost lost on the offshore breeze. “Is this the new normal?” “Yes.” The certainty of his answer surprised him. “It is. The dealers are centralizing. Becoming cartels. Look at what’s happening in Mexico. And then there’s crack and the other cheap designer drugs. Unit 8 is a symptom, not the disease. Crushing them will send a message and buy us time. But it won’t be our fight any more.” He took a sip of tea, focusing his thoughts. “But we still need to finish this fight.” “You think those two will find the radio?” “Yes. They were part of the team that hunted down Pablo Escobar. The Company wants Unit 8 to go away, so they made sure we got the best tools they had access to. Moneybags and his team, Slats and Red Ball and that plane. They would have given us aviation if they had anything untraceable on hand.” “Then why not intel?” “Because we might find out how deep their ties go. We’ve disturbed a lot of activities as a Task Force. They won’t underestimate our ability to sniff out those ties if we get intel from them.” “So you really think they’re connected?” “Not now. But when they were still part of the Peruvian army I’m sure they were. They were operating against Sendero Luminoso, after all. And maybe after that, for the first years of their work against the narcos. It’s hard to say where the ties stopped.” “But you think they did?” “At least at the higher levels. There’s no other reason they would have green lit Unit 8 like they have.” He turned to look at her. “You’ll be with the teams hitting their locations in Miami. I want you to be sure to sieze any documents you find. I doubt we’ll have much of chance at the island.” “You think Moneybags…” “He’s a good man. But he will have his orders. And part of those orders is likely the destruction of any papers. He can’t insert his people on the Maimi end without attracting too much attention, and it’s also not legal for them to operate inside the U.S. So you and Mindy will have the best chance to sieze anything incriminating.” “And add it to the insurance policy?” “Yes.” He smiled, the slap of the waves teasing the edge of his hearing. “I’ll be glad when this is done. When we can finally rest.” Slats looked around the table with a smile on his face. “We go a fix on their transmitter. That stunt last night did the trick. They were chatting away like some damned party line.” Sonny grinned. “Glad we could be of some help. We picked up one guy in the club, but there must have been more.” “Total of three.” Toad grinned. “But we think the other two were security. They hung way back and looked nervous as hell.” “They won’t have much skilled manpower.” Castillo’s voice was low. “They have to spread it out based on mission requirements.” Sonny nodded, turning back to Slats. “You plot a address?” “We got a fix within fifty yards. It’s as close as we could get with the air traffic and them coming on and off the air like they were.” Getting up, he drew a circle on the map. “You were right about Little Havana.” Mindy looked down at her stack of print-outs and smiled. Sonny noticed she was wearing a high-necked shirt and that Rico kept watching him from the corner of his eye. “I think I can narrow that circle.” She got up and made a much smaller circle. “There’s a converted house here. Used to be a three story townhouse but it was converted into apartments a few years back. Not a year ago it was bought by a Panamanian shell company, which happens to be owned by a Columbian shell company. Which is remarkably similar to the one that bought Red. I’m running a report now to see what other purchases those companies made in the same time frame.” Sonny looked at Red Ball. “Can you be sure it’s the right transmitter? Last thing we want to do is roll in on some Cuban spies. Or one of those ‘covert’ Company safe houses you read about in the papers.” “It was confirmed when they made contact with a station on Red. Or at least in Red’s direction.” Red Ball nodded. “It’s them. No question. We monitored the transmission. They were talking about Burnett and his pending deal. They had no details, but the man on the other end ordered them to deal with the situation. He wants Burnett on the team damned bad from the sound of it.” Stan perked up. “Can I get a copy of that?” “Brought one just for you, big guy. You might be able to clean it up better than we can. Our gear’s more suited to finding and less to listening.” Sonny nodded. “Get on that. As soon as Mindy’s report finishes we’ll make our last-minute plans.” “I’ll call the chief deputy and have him hold those warrant teams ready.” “And you’d better have an extra gun somewhere.” Dave’s voice echoed from the doorway. “Cause I’ll be Goddamned if I’ll sit out the raid on the bastards who plugged me.” He was still pale from the hospital, and Sonny though he could see a trace of unsteadiness in his walk. But Dave was back, and looked ready for action. “You give the protection detail the slip?” “Naw. Told ‘em I wanted in on the raid and they said go for it.” He shook his head. “Didn’t think it was this close to go-time, though.” Sonny looked at him, and then nodded. “You ever handle a pig?” “The M-60? Sure.” “Good. Randy? You got an extra? One of those birds is gonna have two door gunners.” Randy snorted. “Just like you, Dave. Show up late for the party and still get to have all the fun.” “Yeah, but I can’t handle a long gun. Ain’t sure when I’ll be able to, in point of fact. The doc…he didn’t sound too damned reassuring about that point.” Sonny saw Randy’s eyes go a dead, cold blue and felt something grab at him deep in his chest. “I’ll get that son of a bitch for you, Dave. You got my word.” Sonny stood up. “Let me know when you hear back from the chief deputy, Marty. Then I’ll call Jimmy and get him on strip alert. Randy, how long will you need to get into position?” “Half an hour. Tops. But I want to be there before they know where the meeting is.” “Done.” Sonny looked at his watch. “It’s 0800 now. I want to be ready to roll by 1000. If we can’t hit that hack, we push by a day. Timing is everything on this one, people.” Slats cleared his throat. “Where will you want us?” “Overhead. Monitoring and radio relay. Things will stretch past our capability once we’re in the air and heading for Red, but it’s critical we stay in communication. You can also jam their comms if you’re of the mind.” “Roger that. Say the word and they won’t even be able to talk to themselves. We can launch as soon as you give the word and stay on station all day if that’s what it takes.” Castillo came out of his office. “The chief deputy has three teams he can spare. One’s short a man, so I told him we could make up the difference. Deputy Blair leaving the hospital freed up one team.” Dave chucked through his pain. “Glad to be of use.” Sonny nodded, fighting back a sudden welling of tears in his eyes. He’d never worked with a team this strong, this capable before. And if this was their last ride, it was going to be a damned good one. Lester stuck his head out the Tech Room door. “You guys ready to roll the tape?” “Not yet. We need Mindy’s report.” “I got it!” She popped out of the intel room, her blue eyes bright and papers clutched in her hand. “I tracked three properties back to those shell companies. That means they have at least four locations in Miami.” She headed for the map. “I’ll get them marked.” “So we’ll miss one.” Castillo shook his head. “Send the location to Metro-Dade as soon as the last raid goes in. Tell them whatever you think will work to get them rolling. If we don’t get the people, I want the house closed down. Are they all apartments?” Mindy nodded. “Yes. Either converted or old but built that way. Two of them are close to the main house, but the last one’s down near the new marina.” “Give that one to Metro-Dade.” Sonny nodded. “We need to get this info to Pete as soon as we decide who’s hitting what. I’d like Brick’s team on the radio house. They know their shit and they’ve worked with us before.” Castillo nodded. “Sergeant Castillo can go with them. Deputy O’Laughlin goes with the team hitting the converted house a block north, and Franz and Switek will take the house two blocks south. That means the light warrant team will hit that location.” Sonny reached for the phone on the table. “I’ll give Jimmy his warning orders. Dave, can you drive?” “Yeah. I won’t be running any stock races, but I can make it.” “Good. You’ll take the M-60s out so they can rig their birds.” Castillo shook his head. “No. Deputy Mather and I will take him. We need to get into position, and if we leave now we should have plenty of time. Crockett, you coordinate the final push. Let us know if anything changes or we need to abort.” Sonny nodded. “If you take any shots, clear your position as soon as you can. Jimmy and Jackson will be picking us up from the parking lot. We won’t have much time on the ground, so you’ll have to move fast.” Moneybags spoke up. “What about my team?” “Your guys can get into position at any point before the meet.” “Tell you what. Jester and Toad will go with Dave to the birds and ride in with them. Just in case. That leaves four of us to cover the meet and deal with any bad guys who show.” “Do it.” Sonny could feel the cold adrenalin of Burnett moving through his veins. He could see the plan, like a three dimensional puzzle, falling into place before his eyes. Turning, he locked eyes with Slats. “Get airborne and do your thing. We’ll reach out if anything changes.” Once they were gone he turned to Castillo. “You’d better get moving, too, Marty.” “Make the call first. I want to know they’ve taken the bait.” “One more thing.” He turned toward the Tech Room. “Stan! Roll whatever bit you’ve got ready for the meeting. This thing’s going!” Then he reached for the phone. “Let’s do this.” Eduardo Salazar had just finished his morning coffee when the office door burst open. Corporal Hidalgo’s eyes were bright with excitement as he stopped in front of the desk. “Sir! We have Burnett on the phone!” Without speaking, Salazar snatched up the receiver and hit the flashing line button. “Mr. Burnett. What a pleasant surprise.” The voice on the other end was flat and devoid of emotion. Salazar thought he could hear airport noises in the background, and cursed their inability to trace calls. “I’ve been giving your little idea some thought.” “And making a side deal or two. Good. Initiative is always good. Until it isn’t.” “Look, pal. I don’t take kindly to being forced to pay some kind of tax on my own business. But I also can’t help but notice the people who don’t pay seem to be dropping dead all around me.” There was a pause, and the voice got colder. “But I also know you need my connections. My contacts. And none of those will give you the time of day if I’m dead.” “Our position is not negotiable.” “Make an exception. Neither of us has a choice. I refuse to pay, I get killed. You don’t change your position, I don’t cooperate and you lose my contacts when you kill me. Or you leave me alone and don’t get in my network. You’ve been here long enough to know my reputation.” “Yes. But we’re both businessmen.” “Yeah. So we need to meet like businessmen and sort this out. There’s a marina over by Little Havana. Good, open space so there’s no surprises. Meet me there at eleven today. I’ll have Marcus with me, and you can bring whoever the hell you want. And I wouldn’t get any ideas about trying to mess with the guy we met with the other night. Bikers have long memories.” “We prevent trouble, not start it. And I know the marina you mention. It is a good place. We’ll see you there at eleven.” Salazar hung up, not wanting to get drawn into more conversation. “Hidalgo, get your team ready. And get the location to Corporal Valderama. The meeting place is open and has lots of shooting positions. It should make him happy. And I want his team on overwatch. Just in case,” “Will you be going, sir?” “Yes. Let Lieutenant Orozco know he’s in change of the safe house until we return. And tell Felix and Antonio to keep a close watch on the radios. If Metro-Dade or this Task Force is in the area I want to know.” Once Hidalgo left, Salazar crossed the room and headed for the radios. “Get the colonel at once. I have news for him.” Sonny watched as Rico hung up the phone. “Pete’s good with coordinating with Metro-Dade. I think he’s looking forward to having them sweep up the trash for a change. How’d your call go?” “Good.” Sonny looked down at the phone, his mind working. “I think I was talking to the captain this time. At least it was someone who was in charge. He had that officer tone and spoke English damend well. We’re a go for eleven.” He raised his voice. “You get that, Stan?” “Loud and clear, Sonny. I’ll start rolling tape in the next half hour. I got a good one ready for them. It should draw their shooter out and get him in position for Randy.” Sonny could almost see the smile on Stan’s face. “You’ll be happy to know Sonny Burnett is under surveillance by a Metro-Dade SWAT sniper unit. Just like we’d talked about.” “So long as it keeps those assholes busy.” Sonny stared at map, trying to paint the area in his mind’s eye. “There’s a couple of coffee shops near that open area, Lots of benches before you hit the dock, too. But it’s not a real tourist favorite yet. Lots of locals, but in that neighborhood they know to take cover if any shooting starts.” “Are we taking prisoners?” Sonny looked at Hatchet. “I doubt that will be an option with these guys.” “Copy that. Just wanted to know if we were doing that ‘shoot to wound’ crap.” “Shoot to wound usually means you end up dying.” Moneybags nodded. “My guys know the drill.” “Good. I’ll get Castillo on the car phone and confirm the times. We don’t want the birds to be late.” Sonny looked around the room. “Everybody get changed if you need to and then equipment and comm check. We need to be ready to roll by 1030.” Trudy nodded, looking at Mindy. “Let’s go get changed girlfriend. Then the boys can make themselves all pretty.” Casanova grinned. “Already taken care of. I just need my mascara and my .45.” Laughter rippled around the room, but Sonny could feel the underlying tension. Not fear…not from this group. But more an eagerness to get the thing started. Moneybags took control of his men. “We roll at 1000. Usual protection drill. Pistols only unless these boys go nuts. I’ll have an H&K in my bag, and so will Hatchet. Load the carbines and extra ammo into the van. We’ll grab it once the shooting stops but before the birds touch down. It’s gonna be a quick change drill.” Toad looked over at Sonny and Rico. “You got long guns you need us to hold?” “Couple of CAR-15s in the armory with our names on ‘em.” Rico chuckled. “I’ll go collect them.” “Ten extra mags each.” Toad’s voice left no room for debate. “Better to have too much ammo than not enough.” The last minutes before an operation were always the hardest for Sonny. It was always when he started second-guessing himself, wondering what he’d forgotten, and running through all sorts of scenarios and variations in his head. Around him he could sense the others working, talking, going through their own pre-game rituals. Moneybags and his men were gone, leaving only the Task Force people. He could see Mindy talking to Tubbs, Lester and Stan checking their tape one last time to make sure it would run in their absence and shut off when required. And Trudy standing near the door, her eyes focused on something only she could see. Looking at his watch, he slipped on his Ray Bans and set his face in the Burnett freeze. “Time to roll. Link up with Pete’s teams and stand by. Rico and I will leave in ten. Good luck, people. Let’s shut these bastards down.” It was hot in the makeshift radio room even with three fans going, but Felix didn’t complain. He wasn’t being swarmed by insects or baked by the sun overhead. A little heat could be borne. He turned the frequency dial slightly, homing in on what sounded like hand radios. Then he paused, listened again, and started scribbling furiously on a note pad. Tearing the sheet loose, he slid it to Antonio, who was handling the communication with the teams. “I just picked up a sniper team from Metro-Dade’s SWAT unit. It sounds like they’re setting to watch the marina meeting location.” Antonio nodded, fixated on his own frequencies. “I’ll alert the captain. Does it sound like they’re looking to engage?” Felix focused his entire being on the crackling voices and chuckled. “No. They sound bored. Like they were sent to just watch and report. They’re checking in as being two hundred yards from the parking lot. From the way they’re talking, they have to be on the east side.” “I’ll let Philipe know. Maybe he’ll get a shot at another one.” “Not without the captain’s orders.” Antonio grimaced, adjusting his own dial. “The captain wants to know if they sound like they were tipped off about the meeting.” “No. They did mention a phone tap, but it sounds like they’re looking for Burnett and the black man to be meeting each other. No mention of a third person.” He snickered. “They have no radio discipline.” Antonio relayed the report and smiled. “He says good. Keep listening.” They were at least partly shaded from the sun, but the tar paper on the roof was doing a great job of baking them just the same. Randy shifted, the heat taking him back to the country just below the DMZ in South Vietnam. The Arizona had been hot, too. In more ways than one. Beside him Castillo didn’t even seem to sweat. He shifted a hair, scanning the distant rooftops on the other side of the parking lot. Once he hit the transmit button on their radio, breaking squelch to let someone know he’d received a transmission. “They took Switek’s bait. They just told their sniper there’s a Metro-Dade team within two hundred yards of the east side of the parking lot. Their return transmission puts them inside Little Havana.” Just where we figured they’d be. “Check spots Lima 34, 26, and 22. Those are the only three that would give them a good vantage point.” Without shifting his position, Randy moved his eye from the telescopic sight to his range card. “They’re the last tall buildings. Anything else is lower.” Castillo nodded. “That puts any shot you make at over a thousand yards.” “Yeah. Just find ‘em for me.” Randy adjusted the scope, brining the zoom to max power and dialing in elevation. “I’ll do the rest.”

Sonny waited until they were all seated to kick off the briefing. “First, welcome to our new best friends who we have never met and don’t know they exist.” He waited for the few forced laughs to fade. “It’s been confirmed that at least part of Unit 8 is operating from Isla de las Arenas Rojas, which to spare us all I’m gonna call Red Base or just Red. We don’t know where they are in Miami, but I’m countin’ on our two specialists to help sort that out.” Slats nodded. “All they gotta do is come on the air.” “And they’ll be doing that soon enough. Stan’s got one of his special mixes ready to roll that should bring at least one or two of them out of the woodwork.” He turned. “Ain’t that right, Stan?” “That’s right, Sonny. I’m gonna dangle what sounds like a Narcotics transmission telling their team to clear the area so the Task Force can get a good look at Burnett and his new best friend.” Stan nodded across the table. “That would be Tubbs playing Marcus Jefferson for the day. Our two heroes are gonna be down by Rizzo’s, a serious dive of a strip club, supposedly meeting a contact to make a small deal.” He nodded again. “That contact would be Randy posing as Patch, our bad boy biker. That won’t raise any eyebrows because he and Burnett have done business before. But a call like that’s sure to generate at least some traffic for you.” Slats nodded again. “Perfect. You know what freq they usually use?” “I’ll get that to you as soon as we’re done. We’ll be listening, too, so I can update if they switch.” Stan grinned. “I got their routine down, but I can’t run RDF with what we have.” Sonny took control again. “Once we get a location, Mindy and Trudy will start running property checks. See if we can find any locations the RDF doesn’t ping. We can’t afford to miss any of these guys when we give the go order.” Moneybags nodded. “Where are we?” “Anywhere you’d like to be, at least for now. You want to slip some guys in for cover at Rizzo’s? Cool by me. Where it gets tight is when I make the call.” “Which call?” “Unit 8’s expecting me to call them about their tax ultimatum. I figure right after this ‘meet’ is a damned good time to do that. They’ll be all edgy about me, not sure if I’m gonna blow them off but not wanting to take me out because the Task Force is watching me.” Sonny grinned. “That’s where it all gets really complicated.” Castillo looked at the map. “Where do you want the meeting?” “I’m thinking the marina over by Little Havana. If we’re right and they’re basing there it will make them comfortable and maybe a little careless. Plus there’s good overwatch positions there. And we’ll need those.” Randy looked at the map. “I’m guessing you’ll want me at least six hundred out. So that means Alpha 29 or Alpha 31.” “Yeah. See, if they stick with their SOP, they’ll have their shooter somewhere to do the same thing. But Stan will be rolling his Friday mix, which puts a Metro-Dade sniper team in position to do something with the meeting. They won’t know what, and it will make them nervous. Metro snipers don’t engage from over about three hundred yards, so their guys will be scanning in close and not watching the wider field. And if they’re in Little Havana…” Randy grinned. “That narrows their shooting choices. And I know ALL the shooting positions within a quarter mile of that marina.” Moneybags nodded. “And when you drop the sniper and his spotter, my guys will take out the moron they send and his security detail.” Sonny nodded. “And that’s where this whole thing turns into a ballet. We have to have the warrant teams in position to move on all identified targets as soon as Randy takes his first shot.” Red Ball favored the table with a thin smile. “We can knock their comms off the air, too. Listening ain’t the only thing our bird can do.” “Outstanding.” Sonny felt one of those empty Burnett smiles slipping on his face. “As soon as they’re deaf our teams will hit the locations. I’d like to have one member of the Task Force with each team if possible, but we’ll make that division as soon as we have an idea about how many targets there are.” Jester cleared his throat. “This is all cute, but what about Red?” “Our birds will be standing by five minutes out. As soon as the last body falls, they’ll be in the air. Gear will be pre-loaded so all you have to do is jump on and gear up. They’re working out the flight plan and approach tactics now, and they also have two Nam crew chiefs coming along for the ride. Guys who know the M-60 like the back of their hands. The bastards at Red won’t have time to blink before we’re on top of them.” Castillo stood, and the room grew quiet. Sonny could hear the air hissing through the HCAV system. The captain stood for a handful of heartbeats. “I don’t have to tell you how important this operation is. These men are wanted war criminals, and they’re looking to bring their way of doing business to Miami and the United States. That cannot be tolerated. We are not looking for trials here. This is a message, sent in a language they understand. Mess with us, and you will be swept from the face of the earth. I know most of you have seen this group’s handiwork in Central and South America. You know what they represent. But it ends. Here and now. If you have any questions, my door is always open. Lieutenant Crockett will oversee the smaller plans for your parts in this operation.” Casanova whistled. “Did he just green light all of Unit 8?” Randy turned, speaking before Crockett could. “Yep. Sure as hell did.” “Well out-fucking-standing. Let’s get this shit rolling.” Sonny followed Castillo into his office, leaving Rico to keep an eye on things for the time being. “It’s not like I need to be out there. These guys have that shit well in hand.” “Yes.” Castillo sank into his chair with a sigh. “You should know…I’m planning on leaving after this operation.” “So am I.” Sonny turned to look out the office window. “It’s time, Marty. For both of us.” “Yes. It is.” Castillo looked like he wanted to say more, but stopped. “It’s ok, Marty. We’ve known each other for…what? Almost ten years now. That’s damned near forever in this work.” He smiled, thinking back to the first time he’d seen Castillo and how wrong he’d been about him. “And there’s nothing strange you could say that Jenny probably hasn’t already told me.” “True. The hill people I used to work with would have considered her a very powerful shaman.” “Maybe she is. Hell, I don’t even try to figure it out anymore.” Turning, he sat down in one of the chairs on the far side of the desk. “But you and Trudy need to have a life. Just be with each other and enjoy what you have. But I don’t have to tell you that.” “No, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded. I could say the same thing to you.” “Yeah, you could.” He paused. “Jenny told me I had to bring all of you back from this one. I think she sees it’s time to quit, too. I guess they’re bringing Gina on for some kind of position at Caitlin’s House. The only one without an exit plan is Lester. Randy and Dave can always go back to Montana. Those two will always land on their feet. It’s in their blood.” “Lester will be fine. Stan will look after him.” “Yeah. Stan’s a hell of a team leader. No way he could go back to Metro-Dade after this.” “Do you think Tubbs will go back?” “No. He’s got Mindy now, and that’s something he’s wanted for a long time, I think. A chance to do things right. Same thing I was looking for, except he knew it. And if Pete does retire, hell, there’s nothing left for any of us really.” Castillo nodded. “Thank you. You’ve confirmed a lot for me. Things I felt but wasn’t sure of. Now we need to make sure this plan is as good as we can make it.” Sonny nodded, feeling that cold part of him slip into place. “It will be. You have my word.” Rico forced himself to focus on the planning talk around him, even though his mind kept drifting back to how Mindy felt on the patio last night and later in bed. Dinner had been perfect, the second set at Downbeat even more so, and having her for dessert pushed it so far beyond perfect he wasn’t sure what to call it. But he knew he had to be here, now. For both their sakes. In truth there wasn’t much he needed to do. Moneybags and his team had fallen into their own planning routine, complete with animated give and take before they settled a question and moved on to the next one. It was smooth, like everything they did, and he could almost hear the pieces falling into place. The same thing was happening, but in a different way, with Stan and Lester and the two mystery men. Slats and Red Ball almost finished each other’s sentences, and their ideas blended with those of the Task Force’s tech guys perfectly. Shrugging, he looked over at Mindy and Trudy. “Hell, I’m just window dressing.” Trudy smiled. “I’ll pick you out a dress so you can stand with us girls and look pretty.” “So long as it matches my eyes…” He grinned. “But these cats are so locked in I’m just taking up space.” “What about Rizzo’s?” “Naw. That’s me, Randy, and Sonny doing our thing. Those cats’ll be there, but I’m betting they’ll want to hide from us, too. I would if I were in their shoes. Hell of a training opportunity.” Trudy nodded. “And it looks like if they aren’t fighting, they’re training.” The fax machine in the intel office chirped, and Mindy went in to check the traffic. She came out with a frown on her face. “Just got some intel from the Coast Guard. They managed to slip a plane close the Red and got some pictures. They’re sending them over, but the analysis here says there’s at least twenty guys on the island, and they look to be setting up some kind of defensive positions.” “Sure they are.” Toad heard part of the conversation and rolled his chair down to their end of the table. “Same thing I’d do. Keep the troops working and focused, even if there ain’t real shit to focus on. Be good to see the pictures, though. Then we can tell if it’s just Micky Mouse busy work or if they’re really expecting trouble.” Rico nodded. “Makes sense. You think they got wind of anything?” “Not from our people. And not from yours, at least from what I’ve seen. You guys got a damned tight ship here. Metro-Dade, not so much. But…” “They don’t know a damned thing about what we’re doing.” Rico looked around the room. “Not unless we tell ‘em, and then we usually tell them the wrong thing.” “Smart man. And the marshals’ office?” “Pete’s good people. Old school lawman. And he plays his cards damned close to his vest.” Toad grinned. “Even better, man. It’s good to work with people who know what the hell they’re doing.” “Likewise, man. Likewise.” “At least the FBI ain’t involved.” Toad looked back down the table. “And I gotta get back. Sounds like they’re working out what to do if you guys get jumped in Rizzo’s. I don’t wanna miss that one.” Rico watched him roll back down to the knot of men. He knew part of him would miss this, but then he looked over at Mindy and knew he wouldn’t miss it that much. Not compared to what lay ahead. “If they’re working on Rizzo’s, I want to start going over the marina side. Sonny and I are gonna be out in the open, and things will move fast once they get started.” Trudy narrowed her eyes. “What about Metro-Dade’s response? Someone will call in shots fired, and they will roll on it.” “Good point. We might have to ask Pete to handle that side. We’re not gonna have time.” Rico looked at the map. “I think you two will be split between the warrant teams along with Stan and Lester depending on how their end of things goes. Sonny and I will be on the birds the second they touch down, so that’s out. And so will Randy and Castillo. We’ll have to wait for them to vacate the overwatch position, and of course Moneybags’ team will be assembling as well.” His lips curled into a snarl. “Shit. We might have to let them know sooner than I’d like.” Mindy touched his arm. “Pete can handle that. He loves kicking Metro-Dade in the balls almost as much as he loves kicking the FBI in the junk. Stan can give him a go call just before everything kicks off. All they’d have to do is keep the zone clear until the birds pick you guys up, and then they could play with their yellow tape all they want.” Trudy nodded. “And keep them clear of our raids as they go in. They might complain about lack of notice, but they can’t ignore the number of leaks they’ve had. And that’s not even counting Gorman. I’ll bet Unit 8 already has at least one source inside Metro already.” “I’d be surprised if they didn’t.” Rico looked at the map again. “It’s how they were trained. They’ll get an in no matter what it takes. Money. Blackmail. You name it.” He looked back as Castillo’s office door opened and Sonny came out. As soon as his partner reached the table he filled him in on their progress. “So if we get Pete working with Metro-Dade, we think the local end will go off fine,” he finished. “Then it’s all on us.” Sonny nodded, and Rico saw that odd Burnett distance in his eyes. “It’s the timelines that worry me. They’re so damned tight. But there’s nothing to be done about it. And we can’t do much more until we pin down some of their locations.” “That’s true.” Moneybags’ clear voice cut into their conversation. “My boys got their part lined out, and we know how we fit in with your plans. It’s the raids here that worry me. I know the warrant teams can do it. No question. But like you said, it’s a matter of time and distance.” Rico cleared his throat. “We might not be able to get them all. And I think we need to be ok with that. We have to get the ones that matter, though.” “Find the radio and you find the boss.” Sonny’s voice was flat. “We cut the head off and we can always come back and sweep up the twitching bits of the snake. I doubt if many of these guys were trained to run on their own.” “I did a stint with the Columbian army as an advisor. You can bet anyone below the rank of sergeant or maybe corporal ain’t gonna be able to do much aside from wiping their own asses. Get the officers and the senior NCOs and the rest will damned near give themselves up.” Rico nodded. “And you’re sure they’ll be where the radio is?” “It’s how those dudes roll. The boss has to know what’s going on, and everyone else only knows what the boss wants them to know. He’s not gonna trust having the radio too far away from him. It’s a question of control.” “Ok. So all we gotta do is pull off the Rizzo’s bait act. They’ll be hanging on the damned phone for Sonny’s call, and then we wrap ‘em up.” Sonny nodded. “Then we finish the damned job.” He looked around the room. “We got a few hours until Stan rolls the tape. You can run through what you gotta run through here or go grab something to eat. We meet back here at 1900 to run through things.” Slats shook his head. “We’ll be airborne at about 1800. We need to run through some frequency and system checks first. Who knows? We might get some traffic ahead of time.” “Stan and Lester will likely be rolling before 1900, too. But I want the Rizzo’s element here for a final run-through. That’s it, gents. But be aware, once this starts rolling it’s gonna move fast.” Eduardo Salazar was still sitting at his makeshift desk when the intercom buzzed. “Yes?” “Sir! We have Metro-Dade on again talking about the Task Force!” It took him moments to cover the distance to the radio room. “What do you have?” “It’s that Narcotics unit again. We’d been monitoring some routine stakeout chatter. They’re working near some stip club called Rizzo’s.” Felix seemed to sense his impatience. “They were just told to clear the area for a new surveillance team. The Task Force. When they complained they said the Task Force wants to get a good look at Sonny Burnett. Narcotics protested, saying they had a tip someone called Patch was looking to make a move but were ordered out just the same.” “This is happening now?” “No, sir. The order said they needed to be ready to clear in two hours.” “Do we have any reconnaissance of the area?” “Not directly, sir. Rizzo’s is out of our normal operating area. Your orders were to focus on the areas around our immediate base.” “Of course. Still…can we get a ground team in there to have a look? I know there will be no overwatch, but it might be worth the risk.” Felix looked down at his notepad. “Corporal Cruces will be available in thirty minutes. He’s coming in off the hospital stake out.” “Pull our men off that immediately. We know about the one man, and it’s clear the Task Force either doesn’t care about its wounded or is taking precautions. I need all trained men on hand to deal with this new situation. And with the colonel in communication now, we need to be ready to respond at once to any new orders.” “Of course, sir. Shall I alert Lieutenant Orozco?” “No. Not yet. This is a simple observation. Cruces should be able to handle it with one or two of the trained men. Orozco’s men are sadly not trained to that standard.” He looked at the slowly turning tape reels. “Do you have that traffic recorded?” “Of course, sir. I can change it now if you’d like to hear it.” “Send it to my office. And good work, Felix.” Once the tape arrived, Salazar listened to it. And then listened again. It was all there. He could hear the drone of routine, followed by a spike in irritation and then anger when the team on duty was told to hand off their case to outsiders. He was reassured that the focus of the Narcotics team was on Patch, whoever that Gringo happened to be. But why was Burnett meeting with a supplier? Assuming Patch was a supplier. It was hard to tell from the traffic they recorded. Maybe this Patch was another transportation man. One of the links in Burnett’s chain. The man seemed to have many of them. The player clicked to a halt as the tape rolled to the uptake reel. It took Salazar a few heartbeats to notice. He’d been so absorbed in his own thoughts. If there was a gap in coverage he would be able to slip his own team into Rizzo’s. Even if there wasn’t a gap he’d put a team in. It was a risk, but it would be worth it if they got the Task Force to expose itself. It was like chasing a ghost, and Salazar hated chasing ghosts. And even if they didn’t get a look at part of the Task Force, it might give them more information on Burnett. Miami was proving to be a more difficult target than Salazar had anticipated. Too many small runners and only a handful of major players left on the table. Burnett was perhaps the biggest, and the one hardest to get to because of how he ran his business. But with him they could seek entry into markets outside Florida. But it had to be done right. Even some of the runners who were paying their tax were afraid of crossing Sonny Burnett. A knock on the door interrupted Salazar’s thoughts. “Enter.” He looked up. “Ah, Cruces. Please, have a seat. I need you and one or two of your men to take on a surveillance mission. It’s a matter that requires discretion, so I thought of you right away. Have you heard of a club called Rizzo’s?” “Man, don’t they ever get any new tunes in this dump?” Sonny chuckled. “Not since Noogie cashed in, man.” They’d just cleared the door and made it to the bar in Rizzo’s, Sonny in his basic Burnett black and Rico sporting the street threads and major attitude of Marcus Jefferson. They hit the bar, Sonny ordering a Black Jack for himself and a beer for Marcus. “Gotta go with the flow, there, Marcus.” “Man, ain’t none of these hos good enough for Marcus.” Rico took a swig of his beer to cover his grin, but Sonny knew his eyes were sweeping the crowd just like his were. Looking for any sign of surveillance, either from Unit 8 or their new partners. He thought he saw Casanova over by the center stage, part of a circle of men waving bills at a slender brunette with her own tits and a nice smile working it to Motley Crue. But the man kept shifting, moving just enough each time to fade back into the crowd. Damn. These boys know their shit. Grinning to himself he turned away, sliding into the cold Burnett mask. The Unit 8 guys might be easier to spot, but he didn’t care about them. He wanted them to be there and to see what went down. Rico tapped his arm. “Patch is over toward the back. See?” “Yeah. I got him. Let’s go see what he was to say.” “Good deal. And I take back what I said about the hos. There’s a couple here Marcus could sink his teeth into.” “Business first, hotshot. Then you can go trolling or whatever you New York boys do.” Sonny focused in on Randy, impressed with how the sniper turned himself into a bad-ass biker. No one got too close to him, and he sat with a half-full beer bottle watching the third pole girl with bored eyes. “Bout time you showed up, Burnett. I was gettin’ tired of waiting for her fake titties to pop. Who’s your date?” “Marcus ain’t no man’s date, fool. You’d best get that right now.” Randy raised his hands with a grin. “Don’t get all hot, man. We’re all friends here just lookin’ to do some business.” They went through the motions of a deal, complete with a bit of theatrical foot-dragging by Randy. “Now you’re sure you can move weight all the way to New York?” “Hell, yes, man. Marcus has the wheels to get whatever you need wherever you need it. Sonny and I, we got the coast sewed up like a damned fielder’s glove.” “I like the sound a that. We get good margins movin’ from the Panhandle to Miami, but it’s good to have options.” “So we’re good?” Sonny looked from Randy to Rico, doing his best ‘Burnett the negotiator’ look. “Heroin’s a bit out of my normal routine, but white powder’s all white powder once you get it loaded. You think you can line up buyers, Marcus? My usual New York contacts only move Peruvian marching dust and ain’t much on diversification.” “No sweat, man. Marcus can line up buyers around the corner and back again. They might wanna know about continuous supply, but that’s a problem for another day.” Randy nodded. “Yeah, it is. Look, I gotta reach out to my people and lock it down. So we’re talking twenty keys of China White?” “Yeah. Usual margins. Keep is safe until you hear from me. Marcus gets his buyers lined up, we’ll want to move fast.” Sonny kept his eyes moving as he talked, and he thought one of the skinny Latin-looking dudes had passed by at least three times too many. It was calculated to look natural enough, unless you were looking for it. He’d be curious to compare notes with Moneybags and his team once they got clear. “Anyhow, I gotta roll. Got another meeting across town. You need a lift, Marcus?” “Yeah. I got calls to make.” Rico stuck out his hand. “Good meetin’ you, Patch. Be better doin’ business.” “Likewise, man. You take care, Burnett.” Rico didn’t drop out of Marcus until they were in the Ferrari and heading across town. “Did you notice the chump who kept ‘accidentally’ wandering by?” “Yeah. The one who looked like a busboy without any dirty dishes? I think they took the bait, but I’ll be curious to see what Moneybags’ boys have to say. I think I saw Casanova, but he was damned good.” “Jester was the one I thought I saw, but he kept moving. How many do you think they had in there?” “I’d guess at least four. That way they could rotate and spot without drawing attention. He might have even moved them through to keep it natural.” Sonny focused his attention on the road, taking a winding, alternating slow and fast route back to the office. “I don’t think they’d try a vehicle tail, but you can’t be too sure.” “Who? Unit 8?” “Either one. I could see Moneybags doing it just to show us he could.” Sonny sighed. “I just hope we scared up some radio traffic for the ear in the sky to listen to. But we won’t know until the morning.” “What do we do if we didn’t?” “Hell, run the play again. I don’t want to call them until we have at least one location nailed down and lines on others. We can’t miss the radio. Get it and we get the command personnel in Miami.”

It was after noon when they turned down the dusty road leading to the airfield, Rico at the wheel of the ugly Ford from the motor pool. Sonny sat in the passenger seat, smelling the cordite on his clothes and feeling the lingering effects of being in the hot seat in the kill house. Now he was trying to settle his nerves, focus on what needed to be done. It wasn’t easy. Rico picked up on his his mood. “Ain’t felt nothing like that since our last firefight. Hell, that might have been more intense.” “Yeah. I’ve never seen anything like it. Those guys are seriously good. You’d have told me about it beforehand, I wouldn’t have believed it could be done.” “So how do we work this, partner?” Sonny shook his head. “I’m still sorting through that one, Rico. We got the team and the birds to hit the island whatever the hell it is, but it’s the Miami end that’s got me worried. This is a snake with two heads, and we can’t miss either one.” “At least ours is pinned on an island.” “Yeah. It’s the easy piece, really. I’d rather be here, but we’re gonna need our big guns out there. No idea how many men they’ll have on that island. We can be pretty sure they don’t have many in Miami, and maybe those two hippies will give us a better picture.” “Stan loves ‘em.” “Yeah. And I just his judgement with the tech stuff. If he says they know their shit, that’s good enough for me.” Sonny looked out the window and shook his head. “Looks like it’s open air concert season.” Jimmy Cole had his Marshall amp set up outside the hanger and was jamming away to what sounded to Sonny like Jimi Hendrix. Jackson Crane leaned against the side of the hanger, tapping his foot to keep time and watching through his aviator sunglasses. Both men looked up as the Ford swung into view, Jimmy’s last chord echoing through the amp and chasing itself off over the swamps. Jackson broke the silence. “What happened to the flash ride?” “Trying to keep a low profile is all.” Sonny climbed out into the baking afternoon heat, his own sunglasses shading his eyes. “Just wanted to let you know the op is a go. And your payment’s locked in.” Jimmy shut off the amp and rested his guitar against it. “Good deal. What’s the destination?” “Little vacation spot called Ilsa de las Arenas Rojas.” Jackson nodded. “Island of the Red Sands. Flew in there a time or two with cargo.” “Pick up or delivery?” “Pick up mostly. Ain’t been out that way for a few years, though. Heard some rich dude planted a big old house out there and then keeled over in his mistress’s bed.” Jimmy grinned. “Same old shit. I did a few runs over there, too. Before I got the fixed-wing, at least. I have heard it’s not favored by smugglers these days. Something about new occupants.” “Yeah. We think Unit 8 has its jump HQ out there. So we’ll be needing lift in and out for ten men. Twelve if you want door gunners.” “You can get pigs?” “Yeah. Another blast from the past.” Jimmy turned to Jackson and nodded. “We’ll get to planning it, Crockett. These men you got any good?” “Two of them used to run with CCN.” Jackson nodded. “They’re good, then.” He turned to Jimmy. “You think we can get Mikey and Rick for this?” “Probably.” Jimmy turned to Sonny. “We got two old crew chiefs we can get for door gunners. No extra on your end…we’ll cover what they need.” Jackson chuckled. “Hell, Mikey’ll probably do it for free.” “And they solid?” Rico stepped around the car. “This is kinda…” “Off the books? Yeah, I get it. I didn’t fly guys into Laos, remember? Mikey was my crew chief back then. They know the score.” “Oh, yeah.” Jimmy turned back to the guitar. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he turned the amp back on and launched into ‘Sunshine of your Love.’ “Go grab your bass, Jax! It’s ’69 all over again and we’re gonna rock and roll!” Rico looked at Sonny and shook his head. “They all that crazy?” “Wait’ll you get them in those birds, Rico. You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Sonny moved his head in time to the music, thinking back to the heat and smell of Da Nang. He could almost feel the thump of chopper blades beating the air. “You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he repeated, almost to himself. Rodrigo Delacruz stood in the middle of the house’s big, open living room, stepping to one side as a private loaded down with ammunition hurried past to one of the open patio doors. They’d been here almost six hours and communications weren’t established yet with either the home office or Miami. If something didn’t happen soon he’d have Sergeant Major Pascal shoot someone. Looking around, he had to admit it was a good location. Just outside American waters so they couldn’t bother him, but close enough for him to lay a hand on the Maimi operation if necessary. But first he needed to talk to Salazar. Turning, he spotted the stocky form of his sergeant major. “Gordo!” “Si, my colonel?” The man strode over, taking steps that made him seem larger than he was. “Staus of communications? Quickly.” “They say another ten minutes and the antenna will be connected.” “If it is not, shoot someone in eleven minutes. Preferably one of the newer recruits. I need a message, not a setback. Do you understand me?” “Of course, my colonel. I would never make such an error.” “See that you don’t. Or I may need to shoot a sergeant major to get the message across.” Rodrigo let his face relax slightly, just enough to let Pascal think he might be joking. He wasn’t. Before Pascal could turn away, another nameless private scurried up and saluted. “We have communications with Miami, sir! The home office should be on line shortly.” “Good. See to your duties, sergeant major. I’ll be in the communications room.” The radios hummed and crackled, but Rodrigo ignored the noise and the men still working around him. His entire world was focused on his headphones and the microphone in his hand. “How are things going, Eduardo?” “Very well, sir. We tied up a loose end today, and this Burnett is proving to be of greater value than we thought. Not only is he a major transporter, but the Task Force is watching him for some reason.” “They are? And your plan?” “We will use him to draw them into the open. Our electronic monitoring confirms the Task Force is having elements of the local police watch him. I think they’re gathering information so they can try to turn him into an asset for them. An informant of some kind. That means they will need to reach out. And we will be there when they do.” “Excellent. And the other work?” “The messages have been delivered and understood. So far the lieutenant has remained in control and has not exceeded orders.” “Good on both counts. And the local police?” “Have no idea we are here. They’re still poking around the Columbians trying to figure out what kind of gang war is brewing.” Rodrigo could hear the satisfaction in Salazar’s voice. “Our new informant is proving quite useful in addition to our electronic surveillance.” “And this informant is of no use with the Task Force?” “No. I’ll forward you the report on him, but he’s a new detective in the Robbery division. I’m expanding recruiting to target other divisions, but it’s difficult without girls. If this one hadn’t have had a weakness for cocaine we wouldn’t have gotten him.” “Good work, captain. Keep me informed.” Rodrigo sat in the chair after he cut the transmission, letting his mind sort through what Salazar had said. He understood the usefulness of this Burnett, but he didn’t like the idea of working with such an independent Gringo. And one with such skills. No, they’d use him as long as they could and then use him as another message. But it would require careful handling. Salazar, not Orozco. Getting up, Rodrigo left his technicians to their work and took a slow walk around the grounds of the estate. Looking over the defensive positions his men were setting up out of habit instead of need. But he didn’t discourage them. It was good training and kept them occupied instead of drinking and realizing they were many miles from the nearest woman. He’d have to look into having some whores brought out from time to time. Or maybe just one batch. Keep them until the men grew tired of them and then take them out on the water and shoot them. After all, they couldn’t go back to the mainland after they’d seen the island. Still, there was enough room to conduct some training. Places the men could shoot and stay ready for action. That was what mattered. Once they were done setting up in Miami there were questions of supply to resolve. And that meant more messages. And maybe a takeover or two. It was basic strategy. Once you controlled the means of transportation it made sense to control at least one or two points of supply. Looking out over the water, he could see how this insignificant speck of sand had gotten its name. The setting sun cast its red light over the water and onto the white sand, turning it a deep shade of red and orange. Smiling, he turned and headed for the house. There was still work to be done, and he wanted to be ready in the morning with new orders for Salazar. It was time to pick up the pace in Miami. “So you’re really gonna do it?” Stan took a deep drink of his beer as he sat down on the couch. He’d come home still stuck in the world of radio frequencies and direction finders when Gina sprung her news. “I think so, Stan. I really like what I’m doing. You know that. But lately it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. Chasing the same girls, seeing them go into some half-assed rehab, and ending up back on the streets two weeks later. Sissy wasn’t the first, and she won’t be the last.” Gina reached out and took his hand. “I just want to make a real difference. Not pretend I am. I already did that in OCB.” Stan nodded, squeezing her hand. “I know, baby. And Sonny’s got something good starting over there. I don’t blame you at all for wanting to be part of it.” He shook his head. “I’m just wrapped up in this case. But there’s something there, too. Like it’s the last ride of the Wild Bunch or something. Castillo’s got that look. So does Sonny. And I think Rico’s catching it, too.” “What does that mean?” “I think after we stop Unit 8 there’s not going to be a Task Force any more. Pete will go, one way or the other, and that will be the end of it. You remember that ass clown, Franks? He was sniffing around the other day. I heard Castillo telling Sonny about it.” Stan shook his head, taking another drink. “They want to shut us down. We’re too good at what we do. Makes them look bad. And you know they don’t like looking bad.” “So I should stay…” “No, baby. Not at all. You should go where you’re happy and can do the most good. Me? I’ll drop my papers the second Castillo does and go do private work. You know how much they pay guys to go around and look for bugs? I could make three times what I do now, easy.” Stan looked down. “And we’re good in any case. Sonny paying for the wedding and all let me build up a nice reserve.” He smiled. “What is it they want you to do?” Gina’s smile lit up the whole room. “I love you so much, Stanley Switek!” She kissed him, hard, and he couldn’t help but smile the whole time. “Angie says it’s called Director of Engagement. What it means is I get to work with the people I do now, but I’m helping them find ways to get girls to Caitlin’s House or arrange for places to stay for girls as they graduate and leave the House. Setting up fundraisers, donations, all that stuff.” “Sounds like you’re a natural for it. You do all that stuff for your unit now, right?” “More or less. But they’re offering me twice what I make now, and acted like they were embarrassed because it was too low!” “You’ll do fine. And we’ll do fine.” Stan gave her hand another squeeze and got up. “I’m grabbing another beer. You want one?” “Please. And then tell me about your day.” “Not much to tell. That team came back, the one I told you about last night. They’re beyond good.” He told her what Rico had said about the kill house. “I’ve never heard of guys that good, and Rico said they went through it like it was something they did every day. And the other two! I learned more about radio direction finding from them in one afternoon than I did in three years with Metro-Dade. They look like bums, but they make Duddy look like a kid with a tin can and string ‘radio’ in his back yard.” “How soon are you going to get these animals?” “Soon. Sonny’s using himself as bait again. But he’s worth more to them alive than dead, so it’s a matter of drawing them out. Once that happens, the hippies get their location, Randy takes out their sniper, and then we hit all their bases and take them out.” “Arrest them?” Stan paused. This was the part he wasn’t sure about. “I don’t think so. That team doesn’t seem like the kind who make arrests, and Sonny and Castillo both talk about eliminating Unit 8, not arresting them. I’m not even doing normal taps. Just running those distraction tapes and trying to locate them. I don’t think arrests are in the cards for these guys.” She nodded, her eyes clouding a bit. “And that doesn’t bother you?” “I don’t know. Maybe a little bit. Until I think of those eight heads. And how they shot up the Columbians. And Sissy. And everything I hear about what they did in Columbia and Peru. Maybe this is the only way to deal with them.” Gina took a drink of her beer. “And Castillo’s ok with this?” “It came from him first, baby. Then Sonny took it on.” He took another drink and shook his head. “Maybe that’s another reason I think it’s time to get out. I don’t know. Dave getting shot’s part of it, too. So far we’ve been lucky. Maybe too lucky. I don’t want to be around when our luck runs out.” “I don’t want you to, either.” Gina leaned over, kissing him, and then rested her head in his lap. “Working with the Task Force scared me a bit. It was fun. I can’t deny that. But the things you do. The risks you take. It made OCB feel like crossing guard duty. And now…with these animals in Miami.” She looked up at him. “How do you do it?” “I don’t really think about it.” He chuckled, taking another sip of his cold beer. “I think Lester and I keep going because they need us. After being a third wheel or damned go-fers in OCB it feels damned good to be needed. To know they couldn’t do quite a bit of what they do without me.” He ran his fingers through her thick hair before letting his hand stray further south. She giggled and moved closer. “But if the big three go, I’m punching, too. I won’t go back to Metro-Dade and be treated like some kind of special needs kid you only trot out when company’s around.” “Good.” She reached up and guided his hand even lower than he’d planned. “And now you’d better finish that beer ‘cause mamma needs some lovin’.” “Your wish is my command, fair princess.” He chuckled and drained the beer in one long, deep swig. “Were they as good as they say?” Rico had been lost in thought, looking out over the city, and Mindy’s voice took him by surprise. “Who?” “Delta Force. That’s who Moneybags and his guys are.” She came up behind him with a sheepish smile on her face. “I did some checking with one of the guys in the office who was career Army before coming over. He said they’re the best of the best.” “I’d say they’re better than you heard.” He told her about the kill room. “I damned near shit my drawers, but they went through it like it was nothing out of the ordinary. Like they could do it in their sleep. And their reaction drills! I ain’t ever seen anything like it. They make Brick’s team look like Metro-Dade trainees.” “And I’ve never seen better than Brick’s guys.” “You will if you see these cats move. And that’s just six of them. I think it was Hatchet said they’re running light this time out.” He smiled and pulled her to him. “I think they’ll make sure I get to the church on time, baby.” “So you still…” “I’m not gonna duck out and leave you standing at the alter. Not a chance.” “After talking and thinking about Unit 8 all day, this feels like I’m in a different world.” He nodded. “A better world, lady. It gives me something real to hold on to in the madness. So were you thinking fancy?” She shook her head. “The only people I’d invite are the team. My family…” “I get it. Pops and I haven’t really talked for years, and my mom’s gettin’ too old to travel.” He shook his head, sadness flashing for a moment in his eyes. “That and I don’t know how she’d take…” “To you marrying a white girl.” “Yeah. She’s pretty old school, even though her mother was Puerto Rican.” Rico shook his head. “She’d always say ‘that’s different’ and smack me with a newspaper.” Mindy smiled. “I get it. I don’t know how my family would take it, either. They’re all old-school Irish Catholics.” “So screw ‘em all. We’ll get married at The Sanctuary. Get the court stuff done and then have a celebration there.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Unless you’d rather do something different.” “No, I like that idea. Robbie’s been a great friend, and it’s kind of the team’s home away from home. I was thinking of Downbeat, but…” “That’s our place.” Rico finished her thought. “I don’t wanna share it, either.” “But the wedding’s only part…” He kissed her, running a finger along the line of her jaw. “I know. It’s what comes next. I’ve been thinking about that. Not much, but some. I know both Sonny and Marty have been thinking about getting out, and if they do I’m going with them. I’ve got some savings, so we’ll be good until I can land a new gig.” Her eyes got wide. “What about the payments?” Rico paused. He’d given his word, but he also didn’t want Mindy to worry. “I might have told Sonny you asked me to marry you. He said the place was his present to us.” “He did what? But this…” “I know. I told him that. He just gave me that damned Cracker smile of his and said he knows how hard it is to start off a marriage on a cop’s pay.” Rico shook his head, still trying to wrap his head around it. “He said we’re all the family he really has. The team, I mean. And he was raised to look after family. The last payment I tried to transfer? It came back. He’s serious.” She looked around again, her eyes wide like she was seeing the penthouse for the first time. “So this is all ours?” “Yep.” He pulled her close, feeling her firm body through his suit. “But what will you do if I leave Metro-Dade?” “Turn in my badge, too. If Pete leaves, there’s nothing for me in that office. Anyone they bring in will try to pull me back for desk work. And I can’t go back to that. Not filling out warrants and trying to keep some mangy old bastard from pinching my ass all day.” She giggled. “Not when I can have you pinch my ass all day. Or other things…” Then her voice turned serious. “That and I keep hearing rumors over there about that Franks guy. He’s still sniffing.” “And he will. He’s got a major hard on for Sonny. He’s never liked me much, either. Chump’s too afraid of Castillo to do anything, but if he smells any kind of weakness he’ll jump.” “But what would you do if you left the force?” “Private security. Mall cop. Hell, maybe Caitlin’s House needs a janitor.” He laughed. “The thing is, baby, it doesn’t matter. So long as we’re together. But first we gotta take down Unit 8.” “Those two guys who were talking to Stan and Lester? They know their stuff. It sounds like their plane is loaded with gear. They can even pinpoint most burst transmissions and the mobile units like you have in the cars.” “Damn. And once we get one location…” “We should be able to track them through property records to others. So far I haven’t found anything listed under the shell company that bought the island, but one hit in Miami should lead to more.” She gave his arm a gentle tug. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting hungry.” “How does Rudolfo’s sound? Catch a bite there and still make the second set at Downbeat.” “I like how you think.” She smiled and leaned into him. “And then when we get back you can take advantage of me. You know how I get after a good second set.” “That I do, pretty lady.” He smiled and smacked her backside, drawing another throaty giggle from her. “That I do.” Martin Castillo sat on the deck of his house as the sun rose, a steaming cup of green tea in his hand. He’d been up for at least an hour, listening to the word change from night to day and letting his brain work through the problem that was Unit 8. He was out here because, like Moneybags, it reminded him of the jungle. He’d done some of his best planning in the Laotian highlands, and again in the jungles and paddies north of Saigon. The sounds, smells, the thickness of the air…all combined to put his head in that difficult space. After the range he’d spent most of the afternoon talking with Moneybags and Hatchet, visiting places most had either forgotten or never known. Randy joined them, and soon it was something of an informal reunion. But they all understood what lay ahead. He’d been glad for Crockett’s report about the pilots, and the fact that they had their own experienced door gunners. Rounding up weapons wasn’t a problem. Pete just chuckled over the phone and said the goods would be delivered along with any ammo he needed. He did say he was changing the detail on Dave, but only to free up Brick’s team for the impending raids. “They know how you boys work, an’ I don’t want to mess with that magic.” Castillo agreed. Magic. A single word too many tossed around for the wrong reasons. But he’d seen things in the highlands, out with the Hmong and Montagnards, that he couldn’t explain any other way. And he felt it with the Task Force, a team pulled together from a variety of parts no one else seemed to want. And it worked. Better than anything he’d ever been part of before. The busts they’d made. The lives they’d changed, both theirs and those around them. Three years ago he wouldn’t have believed it was possible. But the results were all around him. And the most important one was still sleeping in their bed, waiting for the first rays of the sun to wake her. One thing the Montagnards said about magic was it was important to know when it left an area. Or a person. Favor from the gods carried an expiration date, or so they thought. Listen to your heart the old shamen always said. Your head will lie. Your heart will not. And he knew his heart was telling him it was time to go. With Franks sniffing around looking for any excuse to cause trouble and Pete facing either a promotion and transfer or retirement, those were signs no wise mountain tribesman would ignore. The tea was starting to go cold, but he sipped anyhow and looked out toward the water. There was just enough light to see it shimmering now between the trees, but the slap of the waves was always there. His constant companion and reminder of the cost of failure. He dreamed of the team less frequently now, but that didn’t mean Jess, Gus, Hoang, or Ti Ti were slipping from his thoughts. He knew Jess never would, but he found himself thinking of Ti Ti more often. The grizzled old Nung who’d been fighting other men’s wars for most of his life. He’d learned much from the man, and never forgot he owed his life the Nung. Ti Ti had thrown himself on a grenade intended for Castillo. They were the forgotten ones. The ‘little people’ from the hills and mountains. He’d been happy to find out Moneybags missed them almost as much as he did, and they spend a good couple of hours talking about ‘Yards or Nungs they’d worked with, run teams with, and more often than they’d like taken back to their villages for burial. He’d spoken of his lingering guilt at not knowing where to send Ti Ti’s body, and Moneybags looked at him. “You buried him with warriors. They were his family. It’s exactly where he would have wanted to be. My first team was solid Nung. Those boys were their own tribe, their own clan. Best warriors I ever knew.” “I thought I’d find you out here.” Trudy’s voice startled him. He’d been sunk too deep in memories. “Yes. I wanted to watch the sun come up.” “Then why are you looking the wrong way?” She sat down next to him with a soft smile, a cup of tea in her hand. “I was thinking.” He smiled, shaking his head. “No, remembering really.” “About your team? Jess?” “No. Ti Ti. The old Nung.” She smiled. “I’ve thanked him many times, you know.” “For what?” “For saving you for me.” She looked down. “My next piece is about him. I’ve been listening to Oriental music. Trying to bring him into jazz.” “He’d like that. Ti Ti was always fascinated by music. One of the pilots had a tape deck and used to play jazz from time to time. Ti Ti came in one day when he was playing some Charlie Parker and had to know what made that beautiful sound.” Castillo shook his head, sipping cold tea. “He was a very deep man. And I never knew his proper name. Just Ti Ti. He always said ‘that all you need to know’ if I asked him more.” “I’ll work that in.” “I’d like to hear it whenever you’re ready.” He closed his eyes, letting images of Ti Ti play back through his head. “Did you have any pictures of him? Or the rest of your team?” The question jarred, but he refused to show it. She meant no harm. “I believe so. One of two. I’d need to check the box.” In truth he knew he had many pictures. Both of the team and individuals. They were in his locked teak box, a gift from Ti Ti. ‘You keep memories here,’ he’d said when he’d given Castillo the box just before he rotated South for his stint with Project Phoenix. ‘Keep them safe from spirts and bring you back to us.’ Then he shook his head. “Let’s go look now. There’s something I need to get out of it.” The charm was simple. A tiger’s tooth suspended from a plain hammered gold chain. It was another gift from Ti Ti, who’d also explained the precise engravings on the tooth. He handed two pictures to Trudy before slipping the charm over his head and letting it settle around his neck. “He had this tooth engraved by one of the Montagnard shaman,” he said in explanation. “Something about keeping me safe. I didn’t wear it on that mission. But I will wear it for this last mission.” Her eyes went wide. “So you decided?” “Yes. Out there just now. Jack and Ti Ti always told me to listen to my heart and not my head. And my heart says it’s time to go. I’m the last one left out of all of them. I owe it to them to live for them, not for some job or imagined duty.” “Then I’m done, too.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, and he could taste the green tea on her tongue. “We’ve done great work, but…” “The ‘Yards always said the favor of the gods has an expiration date. And I feel like we’re nearing that date. We’ve been very fortunate so far. I’d like to be smart this time and get out before it takes a wrong turn.” “We are pushing our luck. The only ones who haven’t been hurt are Randy, Mindy, Rico, and Sonny.” She looked down at the pictures. “He’s…” “Impressive. Yes. But he had a big heart. I think he started fighting other men’s wars when he was thirteen. He loved the highlands and always felt safe in the mountains. I think his family had actually been killed by the Vietnamese, because he hated them. North or South, it didn’t matter.” “We should probably get ready, my love.” She smiled. “Sonny won’t let us live it down if he beats us to the office again.”

It was pitch black by the time Sonny made the walk down the dock to Tranquility and climbed aboard. A flickering candle just visible through one of the ports was the only sign of life, and he wondered if Jenny had already gone to bed and just left it burning to welcome him home. Home. That was an interesting concept for him now. The damned case had consumed most of his time and a good chunk of his attention, and he’d been around less than he liked. That in itself was a new feeling for him. Even with Caitlin the pull of a case had always been too much. But now…he had to force himself away. And even when he was deep in the case, totally consumed by the Burnett mindset, there was still something pulling him back. He just wasn’t sure he said it enough. She was waiting in the aft berth, a single sheet covering her firm body. “I was wondering when you’d get home.” “So was I, darlin’.” Sonny dropped his blazer on the leather-covered settee built into the side of the hull. “So was I.” Jenny sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her high breasts. “You look tired.” “So do you. Long day?” “Not really. But busy. Getting the girls settled and into their classes was harder than I thought. And that lawyer showed up. The one you fired. Angie took care of him, though.” “Do you call the police? He’s got a restraining order.” Jenny giggled. “She did. He didn’t stick around, though. You’d be proud of her. She did the…what do you call it?” “Signed a complaint?” “That’s it.” She giggled again. “I even think she enjoyed it.” Reaching out, she touched his arm. “How was your day?” “Got some help on the case. Six very bad dudes come to help us kick ass.” He smiled and turned toward the small porthole. “I’ve seen some tough guys in my time. Both in Nam and back here. But these guys…” He groped for words. “They look they could take on anything and come back for seconds.” “Big like Brick?” “No. That’s the thing. They look pretty normal. Shaggy hair. Mustaches. But then you hit their eyes and…man…it’s something else. We’re going out shooting with them tomorrow. And there’s a couple more guys coming in from another outfit tomorrow. If they’re anything like Moneybags and his guys…” “Moneybags.” She smiled. “Yeah. They all use nicknames. Seemed like they’d been working together for years.” The cop part of his brain kicked in. “There was something about them, though. It was like they could just disappear into any street when they wanted to. And then just come together and mess shit up.” “Sounds like good guys to have around.” “Yeah, especially with where we’re going.” He sat down on the bed, feeling her move closer. “I think I’ve got it all planned out, Jenny. As much as I can, anyhow. Once I see these guys shoot I can make some adjustments, and see what the guys coming in tomorrow can add. Sounds like they’re more in Stan and Lester’s territory, though.” She ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder. “That’s for tomorrow, Sonny.” “Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re right, darlin’.” Smiling, she slid closer, the sheet pulling down off her body. “All I know is I need you here, now. Seeing those girls…” “Reminded you of how close you came to being them?” He pulled off his shirt and slid his linen slacks down. “Yes. Maybe not the streets part, but the being lost part. Just drifting from one mess to the next, thinking I had it all under control.” “You did sometimes.” He took her in his arms, feeling her warm skin and thick, soft hair. “I was fooling myself. I didn’t have anything until control until I brought that six pack down to your boat.” She kissed the base of his neck, working her way around to his lips. Pulling him down to her. “Now I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be.” “Neither can I.” He kissed her again. “Neither can I.” Morning came far too soon, sunlight creeping across the crumpled sheets until it poked into Sonny’s eyes and jarred him awake. He could feel Jenny curled up against him, and it took all his willpower to shift and swing his feet to the cool wooden deck. He stood in the master berth’s head, hair still damp from his shower, and contemplated his face in the fogged mirror. There were lines starting to show he hadn’t noticed before, and stray strands of gray in his dirty blonde hair. The Job was starting to catch up with him, or maybe he was just starting to notice. Sonny dressed quickly, pulling on jeans instead of slacks. They’d hold up better for the kind of drills he was expecting at the range. Jenny had slipped out of bed while he was showering and had coffee and toast waiting in Tranquility’s galley. “I’ve got meetings at Caitlin’s House this morning,” she said as she poured him a cup. “I think Gina might be ready to come on board.” “Really? When did that happen?” “We’ve been talking about it for a couple of months.” She let a serious expression form on her face. “If you made more meetings you’d know.” “I know, darlin’. Is that the engagement position you were talking about?” “So you do pay attention!” She smiled and touched his hand. “Yes. Angie and I were talking, and she’s a perfect fit for it. She’s coming by today and we’re going to see if she’s interested and how long it might take her to move from her unit to there.” Sonny nodded, sipping his coffee. “Makes sense. Gina’s got good connections to most local shelters and programs, and she cares about those girls. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as happy at work as she is over there.” “I know she worries about Stan.” “Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on the big lug. He’s a good cop, but a better man. Dave getting shot tore him up a bit.” “He feels like it’s his fault.” She shook her head. “It’s not, but he sees it that way. At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.” Her eyes got serious. “You need to bring them all back, Sonny. What these men did to that girl, the others. They’re evil. And so many lives are changing, moving to what they could be.” “You mean Mindy and Rico?” “Not just them. All of them.” He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he’d learned long ago not to doubt her when she sounded like this. “I will, Jenny. You can count on that.” She smiled, her eyes settling back into their normal sparkle. “Now you’d better get going. If you’re late the new guys won’t respect you.” Sonny let his mind wander on the drive in, thinking back on what Jenny had said and what he’d been feeling for the last few weeks. And what he’d seen in the mirror. Maybe it was time to get out. He’d been doing this for over fifteen years, and nothing was getting any easier. It had cost him two marriages, his son, God knows how many friends, and almost his sanity after the explosion. There was still Unit 8 to consider, and he had to be at the top of his game, but after that… When he walked into the conference room Castillo and Stan were sitting at the long table talking with two men who looked more like bush pilots than anything else: lanky with longer hair, aviator glasses, and the battered leather jackets pilots always seemed to use to mark their status and place in their community. The more battered the jacket, the better the pilot. And these guys had jackets that could have come from the Jurassic period. Castillo looked up. “This is Lieutenant Sonny Crockett. Crockett, meet Red Ball and Slats. Our two communication specialists.” Sonny nodded. “Another unit that doesn’t exist?” The one called Red Ball nodded. “More or less. We did some work down South if that’s any help.” Stan nodded. “They know their shit, Sonny. I’ll bet my signed Heartbreak Hotel single on it.” Sonny grinned. “And if Stan’s gonna bet anything Elvis-related that means you sold him. And I’m good with that. What’s your role here?” “Radio direction stuff mostly.” Slats had a deeper voice and darker hair, but looked to have come from the same ‘pilot’ call at central casting. “I keep the rig in the air and he Red Ball works the dials. So long as your boys are on the air we can track them to within about ten feet. Doesn’t matter what they’re using.” Sonny nodded. “Good. If we can get a fix on their main radio we can use that to vector in other properties and nail these bozos down. How soon can you get started?” “As soon as we’re done going over the operational parameters. We’ll do a couple of flights to figure out the signals environment, and then stand by for something you know will draw these guys out.” Stan chuckled. “We got that covered, Slats. You wanna come back to the Tech Room? I’ll give you an overview of what frequencies we’ve heard them on, which ones we’re using, and what to avoid unless you want your ears blasted off with Metro-Dade patrol gossip.” Sonny waited until the men were in the back room with Stan and an awestruck Lester. “You think these guys can deliver?” “Moneybags says they can.” Castillo looked straight at Sonny. “They had a hand in the whole Escobar business.” Sonny whistled. “I thought that was a Columbian deal.” Castillo allowed him a thin smile. “It was. Officially.” “Got it. And these guys…” “Might have been in the area.” “Just like we weren’t in Laos or Cambodia?” “Something like that.” “When’s Moneybags’ team coming in?” “Any time now. I already spoke with Randy and he’s ready for the range. I think he wants to show these men what he can do.” Sonny nodded. “I get that, but I’m more interested in what they bring to the table. I wanna know what I’m working with when we plan the assault.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “You think we can get some door guns for those Hueys? I like the idea of having some kind of air support just in case.” Castillo nodded. “I’m sure Chief Deputy Washington has some reserves from the Holmes raids. And if not, Moneybags should have something.” Something that looked disturbingly like a playful smile flickered across Castillo’s face. “He should be able to after he sees what I have for him at the range.” Sonny’s eyebrows went up. “What’s that?” “Something from our shared past.” Castillo looked down, indicating the conversation was over. At least that part of it. “Tubbs is in your office going over some of the intel that’s come in since yesterday. It looks like the Isla de las Arenas Rojas is the target. Deputy O’Laughlin got a report from the Coast Guard indicating there’s been steady boat traffic into the area for the last two days.” “Good. Confirmation is always a good thing. Tubbs and I can swing by the airfield after the range and let our boys know we have a target location. That way they can start planning the route in and out.” “You’re sure of those two?” “As sure as I can be. They’re vets, they know the score, and like I said Crane has a score to settle with Unit 8.” Sonny raised a hand. “Yeah, I know. Vengeance makes people do stupid things. I get it. But both these guys flew in rough AOs for at least a year each. They’re gonna know the score. It’s part of who they are.” “Yes. The money’s approved, too. Chief Deputy Washington thinks we’re getting a bargain, by the way,. I think he might have confirmed their military records.” “Wouldn’t surprise me. Pete’s a careful guy.” Sonny looked around, not sure if he wanted to continue or not. Then his heart answered for his head. “Marty, I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time to go after this one. I know we talked about that before, but it’s really starting to sink in.” To his surprise, Castillo nodded. “I agree. I…” He paused, and Sonny could see a new kind of pain in the man’s eyes. “I want to have a life with Trudy, Sonny. A real life. Not some shadow of the Job. I’ve never felt that way before.” “Yeah, I get it, Marty. I really do. I felt that way with Caitlin and didn’t listen to my heart. Look what it got me.” Sonny grinned to hide the pain he knew was flooding his eyes. “I’m not gonna make the same mistake with Jenny. We’ve both seen the bad life can hand out. In spades. We need to take in some of the good while we still have time.” “I can’t leave them, though.” “Marty, I think if you go, we all go. Hell, we’ve all been doing this for years. Stan could make three times what he does now just sweeping rich guys’ love nests for bugs. Mindy? She’s smart as hell and could do damned near anything she wants. Rico’s got serious skills and I expect he’s got himself set pretty well. Lester might stay, but only until Stan got his deal up and running. Randy and Dave could always go back to Butte or wherever the hell it is. Or we could all start something new.” Sonny shook his head. “Hell, at the rate Metro-Dade’s been trying to take us down I don’t feel like wasting my time with them any more.” Castillo nodded. “I’ve not heard another word from Franks, but the chief deputy says he’s still trying to make moves.” “Of course he is. He’s a petty little shit who’d like nothing more than to take out his most successful cops because they do better than he does. Asshole never wrote more than a parking ticket in his entire career.” Sonny could feel the anger welling up again. “And he won’t stop until he’s got all of us up on some bullshit charge or another.” “I suspect you’re right.” Sonny’s eyes went wide. It wasn’t like Castillo to agree the department was out to screw its own cops. “He’s intent on making his name, no matter who he has to step on to do it. He’s not sure about how to go after us now, but he’s smart enough to wait until Chief Deputy Washington is either transferred or retires. Then he won’t waste any time.” Sonny turned that over in his mind. He’d come to the same conclusion as soon as he’d heard Franks was involved, but it was good to hear Castillo agreeing with him. Castillo nodded. “But we need to focus on taking down Unit 8. I want them so hurt, so beaten, they won’t come near Miami for at least ten years. This will be a clear message to any left alive.” “And that’s why you brought in Moneybags and his team?” “Yes. We did need additional manpower. But it needed to be men who would be capable of overpowering Unit 8.” Before Sonny could reply the outer door opened and Moneybags and the rest of his men came in. They weren’t quite in formation, but that same unity of purpose was obvious if you knew what to look for. Moneybags nodded. “You boys ready to hit the range?” Castillo nodded. “Let me get Deputy Mather. Crockett, go get Tubbs.” They took one of the plain gray vans from the Task Force’s small motor pool, negotiating the thinning morning traffic to the range in a sort of silence. Tubbs had also dressed down for the occasion, and Randy looked like he’d stepped off a firing range at Camp Pendleton in his fatigue pants and blouse. When Moneybags raised an eyebrow he just chuckled. “Started feeling all nostalgic and shit,” Randy said. The handful of Metro-Dade SWAT members clustered on the pistol range cleared out with a barked command from Castillo, and soon they had the place to themselves. Sonny turned to the team and explained. “Randy had a run-in with some of those pukes about a week ago. They’ve been packing attitude ever since.” Casanova chuckled. “Give us five minutes and they’ll be packing something else entirely.” Moneybags raised a hand, and Sonny was amazed at how quickly the team fell into line. “We got business first. Do you have a shoot house on this range?” Castillo nodded. “The building we passed on the way in.” “Good. We’ll warm up a bit here and then we’ll do the VIP routine. It’s the best way I know to show you what we can do close in.” He turned to Sonny and Rico with a grin. “You two will be the guests of honor. But now let’s get some shooting in. My guys will take lanes one through six and your people should use seven through ten.” Randy nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes to set up the long range and we can start. I want to get the twelve hundred target ready.” Jester shook his head. “Twelve hundred?” “I’ve got kills out to fourteen back in Nam.” Randy’s voice was conversational, but his eyes were flat. “But some of those were more luck. Twelve’s as far as I’ll guarantee with 7.62 NATO.” Toad’s laugh was a harsh bark. “He’s got you, Jester. Stick to the short game, man.” Hatchet nodded. “I remember you and your partner from Nam, Randy. And I know you had distance there.” Moneybags’ voice cut through the chatter. “If we’re through comparing dick sizes, let’s get started. My guys, I want you ready to shoot in five. Clear?” Sonny settled into lane seven, next to Fingers. So far the man had said almost nothing, but he looked over at Sonny and grinned. “That one of the third gen Smiths?” “Yeah. 4506-1. I see you guys all use 1911s.” “Yeah, but I do like the double-action on the first shot of those Smiths. That and they’re loose enough they don’t clog with sand or other shit. Had some problems with the old Colts over in the sandbox.” He eyeballed the stainless steel pistol with appreciation. “You ever get a malfunction with that?” “Not a one.” Sonny flicked off the safety and checked his target. “How do you guys usually start these sessions?” Fingers shook his head, his Colt in a two-handed low ready position. He looked down the line, poised like one of the greyhounds Sonny had seen at Izzy’s uncle’s track. Watching Moneybags. The team leader raised his off hand, and then lowered it. Even with earphones on, Sonny wasn’t ready for the synchronized blast of fire erupting from the first six lanes. The whole team brought their weapons up almost as one, firing two shot controlled groups in split seconds, advancing with each group. It was all coordinated, right down to dumping the empty magazine as soon as the slide locked back, slamming a fresh mag in, and hitting the slide release and starting the sequence again. He looked over at Castillo, who just shook his head. It was the kind of shooting that only came from endless hours of practice and combat experience. When they were done, Moneybags turned to Castillo, smoke training from the barrel of his .45, the slide locked back on an empty magazine. “Your turn, Marty.” Castillo nodded, turning to Sonny and Rico. “Let’s do this.” His voice was flat, his hands filled with the big .44 Smith & Wesson magnum. Sonny locked eyes with Rico. “Think of Maynard,” he whispered loud enough to get through the noise protection. Then he looked over to Castillo and nodded. Their shooting wasn’t as fluid, or as synchronized, but Sonny though they did damned well. He used his usual two round groups, with Rico spacing his larger magazine to cover first Castillo and then him reloading. Sonny timed his shots to cover Castillo’s reloads as well as Rico’s. Knowing Castillo’s big magnum dropped a target with each boom. Randy tended to fire with Sonny, even though he had one less round. Moneybags nodded. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” He looked at the rest of his team, scanned their eyes and movements. “I think this will work just fine. We’ll do some work with the carbines and then it’s VIP time.” Sonny stepped back, watching the team work with carbines and then switching to pistols when they emptied the magazine. Rico stood beside him, watching the drill with wide eyes. “Who the hell are these cats?” he whispered partway through one of the drills. “I don’t know, but I can say I’ve never seen better.” Sonny shook his head. “But you gotta figure. If Marty knew Moneybags in Nam, the guy’s been doing this for almost twenty-five years. Same for Hatchet. That’s fifty years of combat between two guys.” Rico’s whistle was low. “Damn. That’s some serious shit.” Moneybags turned off the shooting with a simple wave of his hand. “Crockett. Tubbs. You’ll want ears and eyes on for this one. Use the sunglasses. Let’s get you set up.” The shoot house was something Metro-Dade used to practice hostage rescue. Built mostly out of plywood, it held a number of ‘rooms’ and ‘halls’ designed to mimic the kind of places SWAT might be called on to enter with little notice. Moneybags led them through to the center room, with a door and two ‘windows’ added for good measure. “Sit in those chairs,” he said. “Keep your eyes and ears on and don’t move.” Sonny settled in, noticing a swarm of targets set up around the chairs. “Lots of bad guys,” he said with a dry laugh. “Yeah. They like you two. But this is the best way to show you what we can do.” Turning, he headed for the door. “Both of you just act like you’re tied up.” Rico settled into this chair. “Why do I feel like the only black dude at a Klan meeting?” “Funny. I feel the same way.” Sonny smiled “We gotta assume…” The door blew in with a crash, followed by a small rolling canister. Before Sonny could move, the flash-bang went off, almost blinding them through their thick sunglasses and the boom ripping through the ear protection. Through the flash Sonny could see the team flowing into the room, muzzle flashes blooming like flowers in the muzzles of their pistols. It wasn’t a jerky SWAT ‘break left, break right’ drill. These men moved with a smoothness he’d never seen before, coming into the room with an ease that seemed natural and unnatural at the same time. And the shots were so fast it reminded him of a machine gun. It all happened so fast he’d just started to shake off the spots from the flash-bang when he heard Moneybags shout “All secure!” “Shit.” The word came unbidden from Rico’s lips, and Sonny echoed the sentiment. Looking around, he saw each target had at least two holes in either the heart or head. And then it hit him…the team had been using live rounds! He’d thought they were blanks, given how close he and Rico were to the targets and the speed of the entry. He looked down, and his hand was shaking. “So…what do you think?” Moneybags looked at him over the smoking muzzle of his .45. “That’s some serious shooting.” “That was live ammo?” Rico turned to look at the targets like Sonny had. “Yeah. No better way to show you what we can do.” Casanova grinned. “Don’t worry. We fire more in training in a month than a unit a hundred times our size might in a year.” Sonny just nodded, not quite trusting his voice. In truth it was the best damned shooting in close quarters he’d ever seen. Turning to Rico, he found his voice. “Let’s get out to the rifle range. Thanks for the show, guys. Color me impressed.” They regrouped at the long range, finding Randy and Castillo already in position. Hatchet looked down at Randy and nodded. “That your old Nam rifle?” “Yeah. She found her way back with me.” Castillo looked up from the spotting scope. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you, Moneybags. Thought you might appreciate it.” Getting to his feet, he pulled a long duffle bag out from under the shooting bench and handed it to the man. As Sonny watched, Moneybags unzipped the bag and looked inside. A grin spread across his face as he pulled out what looked like a cut-down machine gun. “I’ll be damned! How the the hell did you…never mind. I don’t want to know and you wouldn’t tell me in any case.” Toad looked over. “That an RPD, boss?” “Yeah, but cut down. I used to carry one of these in CCN. We’d cut them down to the gas tube, tweak a couple of things, and add on the hundred round drum. I could write my damned name with mind. Accurate as hell and lighter than the M-60.” Castillo smiled. “And you left yours with Twister, right?” “I did.” Moneybags looked at the underside of the fore grip. “This is the same damned weapon!” “I ran into Twister in Da Nang in 1971. He was on his way home and I was…on my way somewhere else. He gave it to me for safe keeping. I always meant to get it to you, and it finally worked out.” Moneybags just nodded, hefting the exotic weapon. “This’ll give us one hell of an edge when we hit that house or whatever the target is. How many spare drums you got in that bag of tricks?” “Six. It was all Twister had.” Castillo turned back to the scope. “And now let us show you what we bring to the table.” Sonny watched as Randy settled in behind the rifle. He waited until Castillo was in position. “Range me. 1410.” “1410 confirmed. Wind 5 from the east.” There was no sound on the range except for the metallic clacks of Randy chambering a round. The rifle shifted as he compensated for range and wind, and then the Remington boomed. “Hit.” “Hit.” Castillo echoed the call. A second shot. “Hit.” “Hit.” And so it went, working from fourteen hundred yards down to six hundred. Randy fired five rounds at each distance, his calls progressing from a simple ‘hit’ to calling a location. And Castillo always echoed the call. Not a sound came from the members of Moneybags’ team, but Sonny watched them exchanging nods and an occasional smile. Randy left the bolt open after his last shot at six hundred yards, letting powder smoke curl from the open breech. “I’ll go get the targets.” As he puttered down the range in the cart, Jester turned to Hatchet. “How many of those were luck?” “Not a one. I told you about him, dumbass. Even the ones at 1400 will be center mass.” “Bet you a beer they aren’t.” “You’re on.” Sonny watched Castillo shake his head. “You’d better buy the beer now, then.” “No one’s that good.” Sonny chuckled as he saw the cart turn and start back. “No, someone IS that good.” Jester was still arguing until Randy laid the targets out on the ground. Jester looked, his eyes getting wider as he worked his way from six hundred to seven hundred and on up the line. When he got to the 1400 yard target and saw the ragged cluster of holes in the center mass zone he shrugged. “I stand corrected. You are that damned good, man. Beer’s on me once the op’s over. And Reacher’s gonna be pissed as hell he missed this one.” “Reacher?” Jester turned to Sonny. “One of the snipers who usually works with our team. The Unit has Assault Teams and Sniper Teams. He was the best shooter I’d know until today.” Hatchet looked at the targets. “They say you stopped shooting in Nam about halfway through your tour.” “Yeah. But these assholes shot my partner. I got scores to settle.” “Fair enough.” A blast of automatic weapon fire cut into the discussion. Sonny turned to see Moneybags two lanes over, a big grin on his face and smoke curling from the muzzle of his cut-down RPD. “She still works like a damned dream. Let’s run through a couple more drills and see if we can work this into our usual assault drill. It about doubles our initial firepower.” Sonny mostly watched as the team spent the rest of the morning honing assault and reaction drills based around the firepower of Moneybags’ ‘new’ weapon. Rico stood next to him, not saying much aside from an occasional muttered compliment. “They’re something to watch, aren’t they?” Sonny asked to break the silence. “Yeah. Reminds me of how our time’s passing, partner.” “I was talking to Marty about that earlier, Rico. Jenny kinda brought it up last night, and I can’t stop thinking about it. We close this one out, and I might be done.” “Same here, man. Me and Mindy…I got a future now. And I didn’t see that before. It changes things.” “Tell me about it. How I got a third chance I’ll never know, but I’m not gonna mess it up. And with Franks sniffing around it’s only a matter of time before they find something to screw us with.” He looked over at the team running through another reaction drill. “But we gotta finish this one first. I wasn’t sure how before, but watching these guys I think we can wipe Unit 8 off the face of the earth.” “What’s the plan once they’re done?” “We’re gonna run out and talk to the pilots again. Pete cleared the payment. And now we’ve got a location and load out. Castillo thinks we might even be able to get door guns.” Sonny slipped on his sunglasses. “And then I just gotta make a call or two and get those bastards riled up enough to send out their sniper. Give Randy a chance to square things and take away one of their advantages.” “You think those other two cats are gonna be of use?” “Yeah, I do. If they can track transmissions like they say, we’ll have a solid fix on Unit 8 in Miami almost as soon as they come on the air. The trick’s gonna be when to kick things off. We can’t give them time to react once the shooting starts. If they get a chance, they’ll either take down a bunch of innocent people or go into hiding and hit back later. We can’t let them do either one.”

The hanger door was half-open, letting the music roll out onto the hot tarmac runway. The chords were familiar yet somehow different, but Sonny wasn’t enough of a music head to make out much of anything. That had always been Rico’s department. Instead he crossed the runway, feeling the heat bleed through the soles of his shoes, and stepped into the relative cool of the hanger’s shade. Jimmy Cole was right where he’d been the first time Sonny had laid eyes on him…playing an electric guitar. But this time he was up on a basket lift. The second pilot, stockier and with darker hair, sat in a folding lawn chair in front of a blue and white Huey, a can of beer in his hand and sunglasses covering his eyes. Jackson Crane didn’t look to have changed a bit, either. Jimmy stopped in mid-solo, the echoes chasing each other out into the heat before dying in the thick, wet air. “Well I’ll be Goddamned. Sonny Crockett.” Crane took a deep drink of his beer. “And Rico Tubbs. Last time I saw you two it led straight to trouble.” “That goes double for me. Got the shit shot out of myself in some Columbian shithole. You know how much money I lost because of that, Crockett?” “Not as much as you both stand to get paid now. And clean records to boot.” Sonny looked from one man to the other, pulling off his Ray Bans and grinning. “Yeah, you said that last time.” “No, Crane. I said if you checked back with me I’d wipe things clean. You never checked back. But this time it’s a lock if you work with us. From the Federal level.” Jimmy killed the power on the Marshall stack and climbed down from his perch. Even at a distance Sonny could tell he didn’t move as smoothly as he had before Columbia. “What makes you two think we need your business?” “Oh, something about the cobwebs growing on those rotor blades.” Rico chuckled. “That and the fact you two chumps are living in your own hanger. I can see those cots back there.” “Yeah, well, the trade ain’t quite what it used to be.” Crane killed his beer and tossed the empty can in the general direction of a pile of others. “Choppers don’t carry the weight fixed wing can, and our overhead’s higher.” “I hear the market’s getting harder to work in, too.” Sonny walked over and stopped just in front of Crane’s chair. “Kinda like those heads floating into the harbor.” Jimmy nodded, pulling a beer out of the cooler beside Crane’s chair. “Yeah. It’s no easy thing down there these days. Not with that Ocho tax going on. Man, they want twenty percent. Off the top. Our margins don’t carry that. So here we are.” Crane fished out another beer. “So you said you got a proposition for us. What is it?” Sonny looked at Rico. “Here’s the deal. We need two combat-experienced lift pilots for an operation. Don’t know exactly when it’s going down, but it should be in the next couple of weeks. What units were you guys with?” Crane grinned. “Puking Buzzards all the way. 101st Airborne for you, Tubbs. 158th Aviation Battalion, Company A.” Jimmy shook his head. “Damned cherry. I was with Bravo Company, 229th Aviation Battalion. First Cav.” Sonny nodded. “Tell me, Jackson. You ever go over the fence?” “Maybe…” “Good. See, we need two experienced lift guys. Odds are we’re gonna have to take down some bad guys on one of those islands the rich punks like to buy up just offshore. We can’t get our own air, but we are gonna have some guys coming along with us. That means two slicks.” “And let me guess…these guys you’re visiting don’t want company?” “Something like that, Jimmy. But here’s the kicker. You heard of Ocho I take it?” Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. They’re some nasty bastards.” Crane drained his beer and sent the can in the same direction as the last one before opening another. “You weren’t with me when I made that run down to El Rojo, Jimmy. They got there before I was supposed to take delivery. They used fucking heads to make a figure eight in the town square. Right outside the damned church! They ain’t just nasty, brother. They’re evil.” “I heard about El Rojo. Didn’t know you were there, man.” “Not something I brag about. But you can bet I got the hell out of there most ricky tick. Ain’t set foot down there since.” “Well…the boys we’re visiting might just be the command staff of Ocho.” Ignoring Rico’s raised eyebrows Sonny gave the two pilots a short version of Unit 8’s history. “They’re military-trained, which is why they’re so damned good at what they do. But they aren’t bringing that shit here. Not without paying a price bigger than they’ve ever paid before.” Crane looked from Sonny to Rico and back. “Let me get this straight. You’re gonna go find those psychos and drop in on ‘em with some commando boys who might be like those ones I used to lift to places we never were over there? And you’re gonna fuck ‘em up really bad?” “That’s the general idea.” Crane finished his beer in one long swallow. “Fuck it. I’m in.” Jimmy raised his hands. “Wait, man. We don’t have the price. Nothing about records.” “Fuck it, man. You didn’t see that village. I did. This works even half as well as Crockett here thinks, those bastards won’t be doing that to anyone else. As far as I’m concerned that’s a damned good thing.” Sonny turned to Jimmy. “Look, man. I know our last trip didn’t work out like you’d hoped. This is straight business. We can’t get air support anywhere else. Too many people want to be able to say they didn’t know if things go bad. But you’ll get a hundred grand each, half up front and half when we get back. And your records will be clean as a whistle.” Rico nodded. “We ain’t just Metro-Dade these days, boys.” Jimmy looked from the two cops to Crane, who just nodded and opened another beer. Finally he shrugged. “Fuck it. I’m in.” Sonny grinned. “Knew you couldn’t say no. Now what birds do you have?” Jimmy waved his hand. “The two D-model Hueys. They got range and lift to get sixteen guys in full gear up to maybe 60 miles offshore and back with some loiter time. We got no firepower, though.” Sonny’s grin was as thin as a tail rotor blade. “Let us worry about that. Just keep those birds fueled and ready. When this goes down it’ll be moving fast. And I expect you might want to practice a time or two with the assault unit.” Jimmy nodded, his eyes already hooded with fuel and distance calculations. Crane, on the other hand, pushed himself out of his chair with a grunt. “Back in the saddle. Gotta say it feels good, Crockett. And if I can help fuck up the bastards who did El Rojo I figure it just might get me some of Jimmy’s precious karma back.” They were back in the car and heading for the highway when Rico spoke again. “You think those two can pull it off?” “Hell, yes. Those were good units they flew with, and if you made it through your tour it meant you knew your shit.” Sonny’s knuckles went pale on the Ferrari wheel. “And Jackson? He wants this. I mean really wants this.” “Can’t say as I blame him. You think he knew people in that village?” “Odds are he was carrying medicine or something down to them. Dude always had a do-gooder streak in him no matter what he said. So yeah, it wasn’t just a random thing for him.” Rico nodded, but Sonny could still sense his doubt. “You really think we can pull this off?” “I don’t see us having a choice, Rico. These guys are Calderone on speed. We can’t let ‘em get set up here.” “I’m just worried we don’t have enough firepower.” Sonny looked out the window and steered the Ferrari onto the highway, accelerating into the flow of traffic. “If Castillo says he’s bring in serious shooters, I believe him. I just wish we could check on Dave without tipping our hand. I miss the big lug.” “Yeah. Even though he never says much. You think Unit 8 will move on him?” “Naw. At least I wouldn’t. He’s worth more to them as fixed bait, and if we’re not biting they might break off their surveillance but that’s all.” Sonny downshifted and shot past a line of cars dawdling in the summer heat. “I just hope Castillo can get his reinforcements here quick. I don’t want to stall Unit 8 too long. Time is something we don’t have.” Eduardo Salazar looked from Hidalgo’s face to his notes and back again. “You’re sure you only saw Burnett and Jefferson?” “Si, captain. But I also didn’t have a view of many of the buildings. That was supposed to be my cover team’s job.” “They reported seeing nothing, either.” “Ah. But there were places farther back these men could have been. It would explain why they didn’t see me but could see them.” “But you’re still certain?” “As much as I can be, sir. I saw no one in close. Just Burnett and this Jefferson. Burnett didn’t even have security with him.” “He did in a sense. This Jefferson has quite a record according to our new friend downtown.” “They didn’t seem concerned about my warning.” “Burnett is a businessman. He will always show strength first. But I’m sure he’s weighing everything you said against what he knows of the business. It may take him a day or two, but he will see reason.” Salazar made another note on his pad. “You’re dismissed, corporal. Good work.” Once the room was clear he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Colonel Delacruz was still out of communication, and would be for at least another day. Maybe more. In a way he was glad. It gave him time to work out a deal with Burnett without more bloodshed. Salazar had no problem with bloodshed. He’d proven that at El Rojo. But it had to serve a purpose, have some kind of meaning. Otherwise it was no good. Flipping back, he read over the report from Felix and Antonio. What interest would the Task Force have in Burnett? And why would they have another unit do their surveillance for them? Were they overextended? Working elsewhere? But that interest gave Burnett additional meaning, and another reason for him to hold off on any action until they could talk to the colonel again. If the Task Force was watching Burnett, he was live bait. Shifting in his chair, Salazar felt a pang of longing. Sissy had been excellent last night. His reward to himself for things going according to plan. Perhaps fucking an informant was a sign of weakness, but it also allowed him to keep her close and her mercenary urges in check. As far as she knew they were just another South American crew working the powder trade. But there was always the chance… Cursing, he hit the button on his Radio Shack wonder. “Send in Lieutenant Orozco. I have a task for him.” “Captain! Sonny! I think we got something!” Sonny looked up from his report at the sound of Trudy’s voice. They’d come back to a quiet office, members of the team in their own spaces working on projects, so he’d started drafting a report on the meeting with the pilots and a request for the money they’d need. But there was excitement in her voice, and he came out of his chair with a smile. “What you got, Trudy?” “I think we found the island they’re using. You were right. It’s just outside territorial waters, but has a big house, some guest cottages, and a helipad and docks. Someone tried to run a bed and breakfast out there but went broke. It sat for a couple of years and then got bought up about six months ago.” She smiled. “By a shell company out of Panama that’s controlled by another shell company from Columbia. I can’t follow it past that with what we have.” Walking to smaller-scale map of the region she looked at her notes and ran coordinates, finally circling something with a pencil. “Here. Someone named it Isla de las Arenas Rojas.” Castillo nodded. “Island of the Red Sands.” “They come up with that name?” Rico snorted as he stared at the map. “No. It was named by some Spanish explorer back in the 1600s.” Trudy looked at her notes. “I guess the place has seriously white sand, and he saw it around sunrise.” “So the sand was red.” Sonny walked over to the map, using his palm as a rough scale. “Yeah, it’s in easy Huey range.” Castillo looked up. “So your meeting went well?” “Yeah. Just typing up the report now. Crane and Cole will do it, but it’s not cheap. Two hundred grand for the pair; half up front and the other half when we get back.” “Done. I’ll make the arrangements with Chief Deputy Washington. And the team should be here by sundown today.” Rico turned. “Anything you can tell us about these guys?” “No. But I know the team leader from Laos.” “The one who got us the Maynard tape, right?” “Yes. His code name back then was Moneybags. I suspect it still is. He’s one of the best, and anyone on his team will have to meet his standards.” Sonny nodded, his thoughts turning to other parts of the puzzle. If Marty says they’re good that’s good enough for me. “Stan? You got any more of those Task Force tapes?” “Yeah. We can put together just about anything you need, Sonny.” “Good. I want you to run some while we’re not in the field. Stuff hiting at us keeping tabs on Burnett. I want to make him valuable to Unit 8. More than he is now.” “Copy that. I got some ideas, and Lester does, too. Still Metro-Dade, though?” “For now.” He turned back to Tudy. “Anything on that girl yet?” “No, and Gina’s people don’t have a line on her, either. She just dropped off the face of the earth.” Sonny shook his head. “Let’s hope she drops back on in one piece and still breathing.” “Why wouldn’t she?” “She was close to two guys Unit 8 has taken out - Pancho and Carrera. Maybe she ratted them out. I don’t know. But these guys don’t like loose ends, and she’s one hell of a loose end.” Orozco felt the familiar warmth in his chest as he looked out the window of the unremarkable Chevy sedan. “How much further?” “Not far, sir. Maybe ten minutes.” The driver shot a quick glance in the rear view mirror before focusing back on the road. “They are sure she’s here?” “Si. A team has been watching the hotel. She hasn’t left since she came back this morning.” “Good.” He turned to the passenger. “Let them know they’re to take her if she tries to leave.” The man nodded and raised his hand radio. In truth the order hadn’t been unexpected. The girl had turned on her two protectors, and he knew Salazar would never trust someone with that background. He didn’t blame the man for having some fun first. He planned on doing the same thing. There was also a logic in his other order: make the damned thing look like her pimp killed her. This isn’t a message, lieutenant. He leaned back against the seat, feeling a puff of cool air from the car’s laboring air conditioner. Not that he minded the heat. Even the humidity wasn’t as bad as some of the forests he’d fought through. But he’d also learned to savor comforts when they came, and the air conditioning was no exception. The gun biting at his skin under the waistband of his pants was enough of a reminder of the work ahead. They turned into the cheap motel parking lot and found a spot shaded by the second floor of the rows of rooms. The radio crackled to life as soon as the car stopped moving, and the passenger acknowledged and gave a quick order. “She’s in room 229. They say she should be alone. I told them to come over.” “Excellent. We move as soon as they’re in position.” He met the driver’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You keep watch here. Use the radio if any police appear.” He chuckled, looking around the deserted parking lot and the few rust buckets parked in spots in front of ground floor rooms. “I doubt anyone else will disturb us.” He felt the tug in his loins again. “Even if we have to make this quick.” The call came in just after four, and Sonny and Rico pulled into the parking lot of Flamingo Acres right at four fifteen. Heat waves rose from the cracked asphalt lot, and a swarm of patrol cars decorated the walls with flashes of red and blue. A dark coroner’s station wagon was backed up to the foot of the stairs, and a green crime scene van had already unleaded its cargo. Sonny took the stairs two at a time, his Ray Bans guarding his eyes from the stabbing sunlight. Rico kept pace, having traded Marcus’s street gear for his usual Armani combinations. They flashed their marshal’s badges to the uniform cop outside the crime tape and ducked into the room. Baker looked up from the bed. “What is it with you dudes and bodies?” “I was about to ask you the same question, man. What the hell happened here?” “We got the message to be on the lookout for Sissy. Problem is, someone else found her first.” Barker nodded toward the plastic sheet draped over the bed. “Someone raped the hell out of her and then beat her to death with what could have been a baseball bat. The crime scene boys are taking their Polaroids now.” “How many got to her?” “Won’t know until the ME takes his turn in line.” Baker shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Bad taste.” “You could say that, chump.” Sonny knew Rico’s eyes were flashing behind his sunglasses. “Who do you think got to her?” “Well, she ain’t cut into eight pieces or anything Voodoo like that. I’d say her pimp got pissed she wasn’t kicking in his share and decided to cash her check.” He grinned. “OCB said they were sending someone, but…” “Yeah, I ain’t holding my breath either.” Sonny looked around the room. It looked like her pimp might have taken her out, but something just didn’t feel right. Catching Rico’s attention, he nodded toward the bathroom. “Care if we take a look around?” Baker waved his hand. “Go for it. Crime Scene’s done in there, anyhow. Not much to see aside from a fuck-ton of makeup and one of those glass pipes the crackheads favor. Don’t look like she used it much, though.” Once away from the knot of men, Rico leaned in. “What did you see that they didn’t?” “We worked Vice a long time, man. A LONG time. You ever seen a pimp take out one of his girls and leave the room this spotless?” “You’re right. They usually smash the girl’s stuff. Trash the room. Something to show how powerful they are before they do her in. A warning to the others in his stable.” “But this place looks better than it would when the dump’s housekeeping staff comes through.” Sonny looked at the glass pipe through the clear bag it had been inventoried in. “And that pipe don’t look used, does it?” “No. And I bet if we check her over we won’t find burns on her lips or fingers. All those bottles? Sissy was a speed freak.” “Don’t say anything to Baker. We’ll walk out, play dumb, and be on our way.” He felt cold fingers run down his spine. “And hope like hell Unit 8 doesn’t have this place staked out. We might have fucked up bad, partner.” “You think they’d risk it with this many cops around? Especially during broad daylight?” “I don’t know. They might if they knew we knew about the girl. But if they think we have no clue, this might just be them tying off a loose end.” “And least we took one of the junker unmarked units.” “Yeah. There is that.” Sonny sighed. “All we can do is hope we got lucky and keep going.” He checked his watch. “And we’d better get back. Castillo said those friends of his would be by before six.” Castillo listened to their report without looking up. “You think Unit 8 killed her.” It wasn’t a question. “Yes. No pimp leaves the room looking that good. And why try to stage her as a junkie?” Sonny looked out the wide windows. “No, she knew something. Or they thought she knew something and took steps to make sure she never told anyone.” “I shouldn’t have sent you two. That’s on me.” Rico spoke up. “No, captain. It was a lead that needed to be checked. Besides, we took the ugly green Ford and didn’t get much exposure. If they were watching, and it’s a big if, they’d have a hard time connecting us to Burnett and Marcus. I ain’t sporting his threads this afternoon.” Sonny looked down at his own light blue blazer and chuckled. “Burnett wouldn’t be caught dead in this outfit. Might buy us some time if they were watching.” He looked at his watch. “When are your friends coming in?” “Switek is picking them up now.” Castillo looked at his watch. “They’ll be here within the hour. The second group might not arrive until tomorrow.” “Second group?” “Yes. Airborne surveillance specialists. Once Unit 8 comes on the air they can find the base station.” Sonny smiled. “Then we’ve got ‘em.” Lights were starting to come on across the city when the elevator doors hissed open and Stan came out followed by six men carrying what looked like gear bags. Sonny gave them a quick once-over, seeing an assortment of guys with shaggy hair. Some sported mustaches. All looked to be at least thirty, and moved with assurance of men who knew what they were about. The oldest came to a halt in front of Castillo and grinned. “Been a few years, Marty.” Castillo took the offered hand and pulled the man into a quick Latin hug. “That it has, Moneybags. We’re a long way from Laos.” “In some ways.” Moneybags’ eyes took on a distant look. “Only in some ways.” “That’s true, my friend.” Castillo took a step back. “These are my people. Sonny Crockett. Ricardo Tubbs. You’ve already met Stan. Mindy O’Laughlin. Lester Franz. Randy Mather. And my wife, Trudy Castillo.” Moneybags nodded to each in turn. “I’m not trying to be rude, but operational security…” Sonny nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I was a Marine. So was Randy.” Moneybags turned to Randy. “I thought that name sounded familiar. You run a mission with Marty and an RT into Laos?” He grinned at the silence. “I thought so. SOG was a small community. Just like the Unit is now.” He turned, nodding to each man in turn. “That’s Hatchet on the left, Toad’s the one built like a beer keg, Fingers is the tall mother, Jester’s on his left, and last but not least we have Casanova.” Rico grinned. “Don’t get no ideas, Casanova.” The slender operator with jet black hair and deep brown eyes just chuckled. “Don’t worry, man. You ain’t my type.” Moneybags cleared his throat. “We just got back from one of those pesky undisclosed locations, so the guys are kinda beat.” Sonny nodded. “We’ll read you in quick and get you settled. The full briefing can wait until tomorrow. We’ve got some time.” He gave them a quick run-down about Unit 8. “They’ve been stirring things up but good down south from what we can pick up,” he finished. “But we can’t let these bastards get a foothold in Miami or the US.” Toad nodded. His voice seemed to come from somewhere deep in his barrel chest. “I heard about these bastards. In Columbia. Locals are scared shitless of ‘em. And for good reason. I always wanted to cross paths with them, if you get my drift.” “You’ll have your chance. We think in addition to the people they have in Miami they’ll be running some kind of jump HQ just outside our territorial waters. Our intel team thinks they’ve got the site located, too. Just a question of fitting in a few pieces now.” “And then what?” Hatchet asked the question with what sounded like bored detachment. “We go in, watch, and do nothing?” “No.” Sonny’s voice went all Burnett…cold and flat with no hint of emotion. “We take the fuckers out.” “On an island?” “We’ve arranged for two Hueys. Both pilots are Vietnam vets, one from the First Cav and the other from the 101st. The guy from the 101st flew left for SOG more than a couple of times.” Moneybags nodded. “Then they’ll get us there and back. No question. But this op’s a go?” Castillo nodded. “Yes. It’s been green lit. And we have total control.” “Sounds like the Company having one of its messes cleaned up.” Moneybags nodded. “But it gets us out of some damned anti-hijacking exercise.” Toad spoke again. “And we get to kill some fuckers who need killing. Hell, this is better than going on leave.” Moneybags turned to his team. “Don’t forget. These assholes were trained by us. The good ol’ U.S. of A. School of the Americas and all that. They’re gonna know their shit.” He turned back to Sonny. “Who’s handling the ones in Miami?” “Marshal’s Service high-risk warrant teams.” He nodded. “Good call. Those are some serious dudes.” Castillo spoke again. “We’ll have some of our people there to coordinate. But we’re stretched thin. One man’s still in the hospital after being shot by a Unit 8 sniper.” Sonny looked at the men again, still amazed at how relaxed they were. Even SWAT guys tensed up when you started talking raid tactics. But these guys didn’t even blink. “You need us to lock up your gear?” “Some of it. We’ll keep some smaller arms just in case.” Randy grinned. “I’ll show you to the armory and you can secure your shit.” Pausing, he looked at Hatchet and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t I know you from 2/5? An Hoa ’69?” “Echo Company. I thought you looked familiar, shooter.” “How’d a Jarhead get mixed up with this bunch?” “Hard work, man.” Hatchet grinned. “Lots of hard work. Let’s get this gear stowed.” Castillo turned to Moneybags. “We’ve got rooms in three different hotels. Spread them out however you like.” He handed a slip of paper to the Delta Force operator. “The details and names are all there. Use as many of them as you like. The reservations go for a week, and we’ll hold them all open in case you want to move people around. Cars are down in the garage.” “Yeah, Stan showed us.” Moneybags grinned. “You got damned good tradecraft here, Marty. It’s a pleasure working with professionals again.” Sonny joined Rico in the background. “I get it, man. These guys are…” “Way beyond our league. You know, if Unit 8 wasn’t such a bunch of useless bastards I might consider feeling sorry for them.” “Yeah. But why waste the effort?” Moneybags looked around, finding Sonny with a glance. “You guys got a good range handy? My boys will want to shoot in tomorrow. And maybe give you a bit of demonstration.” “Sure, but there’s no…” “It’s all good, man. I know I’d want to see if the specialists from out of town were worth shit or not. Especially if I was dropping into the lion’s den with them. Besides, my boys will want to see how your people handle themselves, too. Especially the ones going on the assault.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. If I was a specialist from out of town I’d want to know if the locals were worth a shit if they were going to cover my back. That should be me, Rico, Randy, and the captain. The others will be covering the Miami end.” Moneybags nodded. “And we don’t want to overload the Hueys. Good planning, Crockett.” Then he turned back to his men. “I got the hotel roster, gents. Let’s get this shit done and rack out. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.”

Martin Castillo stared at the phone. Knowing he had to make the call soon but wanting to put it off as long as possible. Reaching out to the CIA was always a risk, especially when you knew they were waiting for your call. He could still hear Kiki’s warning in his ears. Talk only to Hendricks. Hopefully it will be that easy. He knew the Company had safe houses scattered around South Florida. What better way to keep an eye on Cuba and the legions of Cuban ex-patriots at the same time? It was also a handy jumping-off point for their various excursions into Central and South America, depending on the way the political winds were blowing. And Hendricks had always been in the center of those winds, like the calm spot in the eye of a hurricane. But Castillo remembered him from other, darker places. They had a history of sorts. Hendricks picked up on the third ring. “How are you, Marty?” “Kiki must have warned you.” “He said you might be calling. And he was given this number to give only to you.” Hendricks had a dry, rasping laugh. “You’ve been busy over the last few years. Cleaned up a few messes for us. We don’t forget that.” “And I’m cleaning up another one.” “Yeah. It’s not just ours, but that doesn’t matter now. What do you need?” “An assault team. I know you have relations with DOD. I’d like Moneybags’ Delta team. I know he and his people will be capable. And discrete.” “Shouldn’t be a problem. I can throw in some other assets if you like. The boys who helped take down Pablo for one. Their little planes should help you run down these Unit 8 guys in Miami. But…” “I know Delta cannot operate on US soil. We won’t use them there. We suspect Unit 8 has a command element set up on one of the smaller islands just outside our territorial waters. That’s where we need them.” “We can’t give you any airlift.” Castillo smiled. “I think we can arrange that. All I need are Moneybags and his team.” “I think they’re actually training near McDill right now. It won’t be hard to shift them.” Hendricks let out another dry laugh. “We can even fold this in as part of their training. No one will miss a beat. The boys I mentioned earlier are there, too. It’ll be a package deal.” “What’s the price? There’s always a price.” “Not this time, Marty. This is coming from high up the tree. I’m to give you all the help you need within reason. They drew the line at air assets, but it sounds like you got that covered. And I didn’t figure you’d need any domestic help given what that little Task Force of yours has been able to accomplish. So that left overseas. Or at least offshore.” “Is there anything I should know?” Castillo smiled, even though Hendricks couldn’t see it. “Off the record, of course.” “There shouldn’t be any messy trials with this, but I guess you knew that already. These bastards like messages, right? Send ‘em a big one telling the survivors they aren’t welcome here.” Castillo hung up without another word, knowing Stan had a recording of the entire call. They’d farm copies out to multiple places just in case there was blowback. He’d learned long ago to trust no one but his team when the stakes cleared a certain point. Sonny knocked on the door. “Switek’s getting ready to leave. Are you good to go?” “Yes. We’ll have our support. But we might need helicopters.” Sonny grinned. “I’ve got some ideas about that. We’ll talk after the operation.” Rico waited until Castillo and the others left to ask the question. “What ideas could you have about helicopters?” “Remember those pilots we ran into back with OCB? Jimmy Cole and Jackson Crane?” “Yeah. How I could I forget?” “Well, Jackson’s still got issues with his record. I told him back then we could clear it for him, and this time we will. Him and Jimmy both flew lift ships in ‘Nam, and if Jackson was with the 101st there’s a chance he might have worked with SOG.” “The guys who operated in Laos?” Rico nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard you and Castillo talk about them. If those two cats flew that stuff, this would be nothing for them.” “And they’ll have their own birds. We know Jackson does for sure, and I’ll bet Jimmy couldn’t stay away.” Rico nodded. “I’ll have Mindy lump them into a records search so it don’t show if someone’s watching our traffic.” Turning toward the Intel office, he let his mind bounce between this and getting in the groove for Marcus. It had been years since he’d slipped into that skin, and there wasn’t any margin for error this time out. But he also wondered how long Sonny had been thinking of the two pilots. Mindy smiled when he walked in. “I can’t get used to you in that street stuff.” “Marcus don’t dig no one dissin’ his threads. Not even a hot piece of tail.” Rico grinned. “I need you lump a couple of names into the next records pull. Maybe with Sissy’s if you haven’t done it already. Jackson Crane and Jimmy Cole. They’re both pilots and should have records for smuggling and all that good shit. All we need’s last known addresses or contacts.” “You got it.” Mindy looked him up and down and smiled again. “Maybe I could get used to Marcus, though. I’ll bet he gives a mean spanking.” “Marcus knows how the ladies like it. You can bank on that.” Rico chuckled again and ran his hand along her shoulder. “Now I gotta go get in character. Let me know if those two hit.” Back in the conference room he found Sonny staring at the map. “It’s almost there, Rico.” “What is, partner?” “How we get these bastards. It’s almost there.” “What do you mean?” “I’m in their heads now. Or damn near. I can’t explain it. But it’s like that cat burger with the flour.” “Yeah. I remember him. And you.” “It’s like that, man. I know where they are now. They’re gonna have their teams spread out. Houses on the edges of Little Havana and stuff like that. Where no one will notice younger Hispanics coming and going. But this captain will want to have his finger on it all. So his safe house will be in the center of the rest. Big enough to hold his comms team and maybe one or two more. They’re trained, but this is still new turf for them. They’ll hang together in spite of their training.” Turning, he headed for the Intel office. “Look for real estate buys in the last six months within about two miles of each other. Near Little Havana. And all by shell companies. Houses cut into apartments. That kind of thing.” Trudy looked up, and Rico saw the question in her eyes. “You got a line on something, Sonny?” “Yeah, I think I do. But we gotta roll now.” He turned to Rico. “You ready?” “Hell, man. Marcus was born ready. Let’s get this shit on.” They took the Ferrari, Rico watching Sonny’s fingers rap out a beat only he could hear on the steering wheel as he drove. He knew better than to ask where his partner’s head was, and he knew his own was all over the place. Still, he felt himself settling into the raw aggression that was Marcus. And he had to admit it felt good. Not least when he thought of the light he’d seen in Mindy’s eyes when he switched it on. He’d only tried Marcus on once, just before his brother was killed and he started the arc that landed him in Miami. So there were memories there he didn’t like poking into. But the cover had been successful beyond question, letting him take down a heist crew before they could carry out a major bank job. And he could channel those memories of his dead brother into the aggression that carried Marcus, making him even more menacing that he might be already. He smiled. Dealing with nut jobs like Unit 8 that might be an edge they’d need. Looking over, he could see Sonny had sunk deep into Burnett. The jaw was set. The sunglasses set just so, showing nothing of his eyes. He’d seen it enough times to know the signs without any words. And now he felt Marcus coming on the same way. Taking hold of his eyes, his jaw. Even the way he sat in the Ferrari as Sonny cut in and out of traffic. He was ready. At one time Noogie’s woman, Ample Annie, had worked behind the counter of the Hollywood Burgers truck. But after he died and the strippers at Rizzo’s gave her a beating for her part in his OD, the truck had gone downhill. Not that it ever had far to go. But the fries were always good and the burgers passable so long as you weren’t dumb enough to order rare. Without missing a beat Rico swaggered over to the window and looked around like he owned the whole beach. “Gimme one of them Rambo combos an’ make it quick. Marcus got places to go an’ people to see.” Behind him he heard Sonny chuckle. “And I’ll take a Pretty Woman hold the ketchup. Ain’t that time of the month just yet. And make them both well done.” Then the Burnett voice kicked back in. “Keep your eyes open, Marcus. They know me but we don’t know them.” “I hear ya.” Rico turned, leaning against the side of the truck and scanning the beach behind his mirrored shades. “Lotsa honeys out there but nothing shady.” “Don’t forget these guys are trained. They could have four guys out there right now and we’d likely not know it.” “Yeah, but they gonna stand out.” Rico stayed in Marcus’ voice. “You picked the only part of this beach that’s whiter than your damned Ferrari.” They got their food and sat at one of the umbrella-shaded tables dotting the concrete around the truck. Picking a bench that wasn’t too coated with yesterday’s slopped mustard and ketchup, Rico took a bite of his burger and nodded. “Not bad.” Sonny nodded, sampling his own. “No veggie burger for you?” “Naw. Marcus ain’t no grazin’ fool.” But he kept his eyes moving behind the glasses. “Don’t look now but we got company. Dude comin’ up on your right. He’s gettin’ a Coke but he’s checkin’ us out. Hard.” Sonny nodded but didn’t turn around. Instead he amplified the Burnett voice a hair. “Don’t just stand there. Have a seat and say what you came to say.” The kid was cool. Rico had to give him that. Skinny, but with that army muscle air about him, the man slid onto the open bench seat between Rico and Sonny with his drink. “Mr. Burnett. This must be the friend you mentioned.” Sonny nodded. “Marcus. He’s my northern route connection.” “Fast as there is. Ain’t nothin’ moves north of Lauderdale if Marcus don’t have a hand in it.” The Unit 8 man nodded, sipping his Coke. “Ricky Henderson is a great player. Do you wear his number because of the speed or his on-base percentage?” Rico grinned. The kid’s got chops. “Both. Marcus is fast and gets the goods where they need to go every time. Here to New York? Marcus is your man.” Sonny took another bite of his chicken sandwich. “So I guess blowing Carrera’s head off was your message?” “I’m just the messenger, Mr. Burnett. Ocho sends the message.” “Whatever. Just lay it out.” He nodded. “Your reputation for being direct is accurate. We provide protection for certain trade routes. We keep the routes open, fend off competitors, and ensure your goods come into the country unhindered.” “See, that’s where we don’t connect. I don’t bring goods in from outside. I only deal with them once they’re here. Problems down South aren’t my problems.” Sonny’s smile was thin. “Dipped my toe in that water once and decided it was more hassle than it was worth.” “We have extended our service north.” The man continued without missing a beat. “I think you’ve seen what happens to those who don’t take part.” Rico chuckled. “You mean them eight heads with no dudes attached to ‘em?” “That was one, yes. And the foolish Columbians.” “Did the trade a favor taking out Los Tech 9s.” Sonny finished chewing on some of the truck’s excellent fries. “Sure you don’t want something to eat? Burgers are so-so, but the fries are worth the drive.” “I get the impression you’re not taking our message seriously.” “Look, pal. I’ve been threatened by many people during my time in this game. And I’ve been on the side of the table you’re on now. If you blow my away, my network dies with me. And you need my network if you want to expand into South Florida. Those bozos you’ve been leaning on can’t carry half the weight I can in my sleep.” Rico nodded. “And no Burnett, no Marcus. Which means you gotta work three times as hard to get into the northern markets. The pasta boys still got most of the trade up there, an’ you don’t want to run against them. Easier to work with someone who knows the score and the players.” “So what’s your offer?” “Any trade you make we get ten percent of the deal. Not street value, just what you’re payed to move.” “And I get what in return?” “Protection. And we can open new suppliers for your customers. High-grade product they can’t get without going through us.” “So you’re talking ten percent of the deal, not just my commission?” “Correct.” Sonny shook his head. “I gotta run those numbers.” “We understand, Mr. Burnett.” Rico felt Marcus’ anger rise in his chest. “And just what you gonna protect us from aside from your boys? I got no one movin’ in my routes. Marcus don’t need protection from anyone in the game now.” “Think of it as insurance. If not our people, perhaps the police learn of one of your routes. A big deal. Many things can go wrong, Mr. Jefferson.” Rico slammed his fist on the table. “You got bigger balls than brains you think you can lean on Marcus like that!” Sonny shook his head. “Go easy, Marcus. Man’s just doing his job. Like a good little piss boy.” He finished his fries and smiled. “Might get another order of those. Anyhow, tell your boss he’ll have his answer soon. Like I said, I got some numbers to run. But you might want to let him know we’re a package deal, and he might want to sweeten the deal a bit if he has any plans for moving north of Miami. Marcus here can open a lot of doors.” “Or close ‘em damned tight.” Rico set his jaw. “If you get Marcus’ meaning.” “I’ll let them know. But they are also not patient men. Don’t take too long, gentlemen. The next message might not be so impersonal.” Sonny’s hand flashed out and grabbed a fistful of the kid’s button-up shirt. Rico saw a quick flash of fear in his eyes. “Don’t ever threaten me. I’m not some peasant you can frighten with heads. I got no problem talking business, but your people need to remember Sonny Burnett isn’t someone you can push around.” While Sonny had been talking, Rico switched his focus to the beach around them. He could see at least two younger men detach themselves from the shadows of the concrete restroom structure, only to relax again as Sonny let the kid go. He knew Randy was out there somewhere, too, but to the sniper’s credit Rico hadn’t been able to spot him. Then he heard the Burnett voice again. “Come on, Marcus. Let’s blow this pop stand. We got numbers to run. You’ll be hearing from me, kid.” In a nondescript van parked about a block away from the burger truck, Felix focused his entire attention on the voices coming through his headphones. Next to him, Antonio scribbled on a pad. “And you’re sure it’s Metro-Dade Narcotics?” “Yes. The call signs match our research. It sounds like they’re conducting surveillance on Burnett. Loose and from a distance, but they’re there. Something about his Ferrari parking and the two men getting out.” Felix let his brain work through the words, translating the English into Spanish for his report later. He knew that captain would read both his and Antonio’s, looking for common points and things one or the other might have missed or just not heard. So far it was just the chatter of men who were hot, bored, and going through motions they’d gone through hundred of times before. Like he was doing now. He almost felt a kinship with these unseen cops, knowing what it was like to peer through slatted blinds of some cheap hotel room, the sweat running down the curve of your spine and pooling in the low points. Smelling your own sweat and wishing you hadn’t had that second cup of coffee when your bladder announces it needs to be emptied. And the frustration of picking a spot that didn’t let you see exactly what the target was doing. He heard that now in their voices. “Sounds like a two-man team talking to a base unit somewhere else.” Felix nodded. “Si. And they can’t see the meeting, which means Hidalgo won’t be photographed. That should make the captain happy.” “It also means they’re in a fixed location and can’t move.” Antonio scribbled more notes. Felix shook his head. He preferred to report the facts and let the officers decide what they might mean. He’d seen what happened to men who made the wrong call. He was about to say something when two words floated through his earphones and he froze. “This is recording?” “Of course. Why?” “Idiot! Did you not hear that? They were saying next time Task Force could do its own work. The captain told us to listen especially for that.” “Are you sure? They could be talking about anything.” “No. It’s the emphasis. How they said the words.” Looking at the flickering digital counter on the big reel-to-reel machine, he scribbled numbers down. “This way the captain can check for himself. I want there to be no question.” Antonio nodded, his head bent in concentration. “It sounds like they’re done.” “Good. Hidalgo will take his time getting back.” “And the Narcotics team is reporting Burnett and the other leaving in their car.” “Keep monitoring to see if they say anything about Hidalgo.” Felix reached for the burst radio. “I want to let the captain know what we have.” Stan’s face twisted in an evil grin. “Got you!” Castillo turned to face him. “What?” “Burst transmission, captain. No way to get a fix, but they’re out there and they’re listening.” He looked at his watch. “Less than three minutes after the tape mentioned Task Force.” He felt a warm glow of success in his chest. Another step for making up, at least to himself, for Dave getting shot. Now, staring at the jumping needles and slowly turning tape, he felt like he’d regained his place. They all said Dave getting shot wasn’t his fault, even Castillo, who was the toughest man Stan had ever known. But he didn’t believe it. Not deep down. Dave was on his team, and he was responsible for the safety of Team Elvis. But he’d done this on his own. Gotten that tape ready. Timed the playback, pausing and advancing to match it with what was happening on the ground. And slipping the key phrase in. And they’d bitten on it. He was sure of that. Now the Task Force controlled the pace of engagement. Where they went from here was a question he couldn’t answer. He had to trust Sonny and Castillo knew what they were doing. Castillo he trusted. Sonny….he still wasn’t sure. Not deep down. And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Looking over at Lester, he signaled for his partner to start the second tape rolling. It would give Sonny and Rico cover to get clear before cutting off, simulating a surveillance box shifting with its target. At the same time he hit a button in the Roach Coach’s mobile phone system, triggering Randy’s muted pager and letting him know it was time to clear the target area. “I just gave Randy the all clear. He should be back in five to ten minutes.” “Good.” Castillo just sat in his jump chair like a statue. Shrugging, Stan turned back to his work. “You see anything else on the comms, Lester?” “Naw. Just their one burst. They’re holding good radio silence. Got the usual Metro-Dade dispatch chatter, though.” They were just finishing the second tape when someone rapped on the van’s rear doors. Hanging his headphones on a hook, Stan cracked the door with one hand on the butt of his Browning and smiled. “Bout time you showed up. You get lost on the way back?” “Naw your mom wanted a quickie and I had to oblige.” Randy climbed in, his beach bum rig a stark contrast to his usual look. “They had at least least two guys on scene covering the meet,” he said to Stan and Castillo as he pulled off his dark glasses. “Down by the shitters. There might have been a third up on the other side of the parking lot, but I couldn’t get a closer look without tipping my hand. No sign of a command vehicle, but the target and his boys moved out in the same direction. I’d guess they had a van or something around the corner.” “Did they spot you?” “I doubt it, captain. As far as they were concerned I was just another drunk dude passed out in the shade of South Florida’s famous palm trees.” Randy chuckled. “They were an odd mix, though. The guy talking with Crockett and Tubbs had some tradecraft.” “Explain.” “The way he came on the scene. He was checking everything out without lookin’ like he was doing anything. And he settled into the one spot that would damned hard to observe from overwatch. Not that any of that would have been easy, mind. But he was aware of the risk and took countermeasures without lookin’ like he was doing it. The others? A mix. They knew their business, but weren’t too good at hiding it.” Stan shook his head as he listened. “So you think the one was US-trained and the others maybe home-grown?” “That or they ain’t used to that part of the job. These boys are running light, so they have to play new positions.” “Well, I’m gonna get this coach on the move.” Stan clambered between the front seats, settling into the driver’s position with a sigh. “Get back and see what the Hardy Boys can add to what we heard.” Lester turned. “You still calling them that?” “Naw. Slip of the tongue is all.” And slip of the brain. Stan cranked the engine, forcing his thoughts back to today and not years ago. Crockett can grow. I gotta grow, too. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Castillo’s voice was low, not carrying more than three feet. “He’s changed, Stan. You should give him that if you can.” “I know, Marty. And most days I do. It’s hard sometimes, though.” Stan slid on his sunglasses and eased the big van out of the narrow alley. “Do you really think he’s changed?” “Yes. I do. Don’t think of the money. Think of the other things he does.” Stan nodded. The money had been part of it. It had made him think of his father buying ice cream after he’d smacked the kids around after a rough night driving the cab. More a bribe than anything else, because he’d smack them around again two nights later, saving the worst for his chubby son who wanted to be Elvis. He blinked behind the safety of his sunglasses, remembering what he’d heard about Sonny standing up in front of Maynard, trying to buy time for the rest of the team. How he’d given him his own team, letting him run it his way and at his own pace. All the little things. He nodded again. “You’re right.” Sonny sank into one of the conference room chairs with a groan. “Kid was on edge the whole time but cool. Never saw him rattled once. Even when I grabbed a handful of his shirt. He just looked at me like I was a fly buzzing too close to his face.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. He was one cool cat. Almost too cool.” Castillo spoke from the head of the table. “He had two, maybe three men covering him. And Switek and Franz monitored a burst transmission shortly after the meeting. Just after the diversion tape mentioned the Task Force.” Sonny didn’t look up. “We hooked our fish.” “And I found those two guys you were asking about, boss.” Mindy flipped through her notes. “Jimmy Cole and Jackson Crane. They show up as co-owners of C & C Charters and have a hanger out at one of the smaller civil airfields.” “Do they still have records?” “Yes. But no recent arrests or anything like that.” Sonny nodded, still not looking up. “Good. That means we have leverage if we need it. Anything on Sissy?” “No. I have a call in to Gina’s unit, but they haven’t gotten back to me yet.” “Why Cole and Crane?” “Helicopters. They both have them and flew them in Nam. If you need choppers, they’re our guys. And we can scrub their records in return. Neither of ‘em were serious felons in any case. Just guys using the skills Uncle Sam gave them trying to get by.” “I’m sure Chief Deputy Washington can get the AUSA to agree.” “Good.” Sonny’s smile was for himself as he felt pieces falling into place in his head. “So now they think Burnett’s drawn the attention of the Task Force. That gives us another chip to play. They aren’t gonna want to do anything to him until they think they’ve drawn us into the open.” He looked up. “Stan, can you put one of those tapes together for the next meeting? I’m gonna push them into one of the old boatyards down by the canal. I’ll show you on the map so you can get the details right.” “Sure. What else did you need with it?” “We know they have a sniper. Probably just one given their manpower limitations. And according to the files Marty got only one or two of their guys went through US sniper training.” Randy nodded. “Same guy who took out Victor and Carrera and wounded Dave.” “Right. I want to give them a meet location where they’ll try for overwatch. And then I want the tape to convince them Metro-Dade has snipers somewhere within four hundred yards of the meeting. Does that sound right?” “Yeah.” Randy scratched his chin. “Maybe a shade closer. Police snipers don’t like to work too far out, and these boys would know that.” “Work with Stan to get that right. I want them to think there’s someone in close, maybe trying to get eyes on their guy.” “To spot their guy?” Sonny looked straight at Castillo, feeling his eyes go Burnett-flat. “No. To take out their guy. It’ll be a long shot, because we need to be outside their observation range. But they like messages? We can send those, too.” Trudy cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t we try to bring him in?” “This man has already killed at least two people in Miami, and wounded a Federal officer.” Castillo looked around the table, locking eyes with each member of the Task Force. “He is trained, well-equipped, and a clear danger. I won’t risk anyone on the team trying to bring him in.” Randy nodded. “Best way to get a sniper aside from artillery or air strikes is another sniper. This guy’s good, but he’s not that good.” Sonny looked at Randy. “Can you take him out from a thousand yards? Maybe more?” “Yes.” There was no hesitation, no question in Randy’s voice. “With the captain spotting for me it’s not a problem.” “Good. Now we gotta work overtime trying to find where these guys are sleeping. Once we take down their shooter we’re not gonna have much time.” He turned to Castillo. “When are the reinforcements gonna arrive?” “Hendricks didn’t say. There may be a message on my phone or I’ll call him back.” “When they get here determines when I reach out again. There’s lots of moving parts with this one, people. And we won’t have much time once things start moving.” Castillo nodded, and Sonny could feel his intense gaze. “What’s the timeline?” “We need to find their beds first. Once we do that, I’ll start pressing them.” “Don’t forget the command element.” Castillo’s voice was as hard as his eyes. “I want to know where they are before we do anything. That will be the most complicated part of any operation.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. Why don’t Tubbs and I go pay a visit to our two pilots and see how friendly their skies are?” They were on their way down to the garage when Rico spoke. “You really think these cats will help us?” “I don’t know, Rico. Sounds like they’ve stayed clean since we dealt with ‘em, so that gives us something to work with.” “You think they’ll be up to something like this?” “Yeah, I do. They both flew combat missions in Nam, not ash and trash stuff.” Sonny chuckled. “Like I told you before, man, they’ve been there and done that.” “Doesn’t mean they want to do it again.” “Yeah. That’s the trick. If we can’t get them, I don’t know what we’ll do.” Unlocking the Ferrari, he climbed in and cranked the engine to life. “Guess I’ll just have to use the famous Crockett charm.” The airfield was on the edge of swampland, right where no one would want to develop. It might have been a training field dating back to World War II, or maybe just some forgotten leftover no one cared enough about to rip up and plant tract housing on. There was a dilapidated control tower, a couple of clusters of hangers, and bare concrete pads where hangers might have once stood. Parking the Ferrari, Sonny half expected to see a few burned-out planes scattered at random like some bad war movie. It was that kind of place. Rico got out of the car and stretched. “That looks to be their digs over there.” He pointed to a hanger with a painted sign proclaiming it the home of C & C Charters. Sonny nodded, grinning as the breeze carried faint amplified guitar chords to his ears along with the stench of rotting vegetation to his nose. “Sounds like someone’s home, too. Should make things easier.”

Booming bass and pink and blue neon assaulted their senses as soon as they stepped through the door, and Sonny left his Wayfarers on. The heavy Smith & Wesson under his jacket provided its usual comfort under his basic-Burnett black suit coat as he scanned the crowd. His mind knew it wasn’t likely he’d see anything out of the ordinary until it was too late, but the damned spider tap-dancing up and down his spine whispered otherwise. At the end of his sweep he tapped Rico on the arm. “Carrera’s toward the back. Almost the same table he was at last time.” “Got him. And that skinny blonde just made an exit, stage right.” “Yeah. We’ll grab her later. You see his punk gunman?” “He might be at the next booth over. Hard to tell with those damend strobes.” Rico shifted, nudging them toward the bar and drinks. “”How do you wanna play this?” Sonny ordered a Black Jack and scotch for Rico when they reached the bar. “Hard. If Carrera’s on the edge it don’t hurt to push him a bit. And if Unit 8’s watching they wouldn’t expect Burnett to go easy on him.” “You think those chumps will try to get close?” “Not in their training.” The bourbon bit the back of his throat, and he let it warm a path down to his stomach. “They’ll be trying to keep a loose watch until the captain decides it’s time to make contact. Or cancel Carrera’s ticket. He’s expendable as far as they’re concerned.” “Well, let’s go see what the chump dug up for us.” Rico slid his empty glass across the bar. “This damned place gives me a rash.” Carrera stood as they drew near the table, a used car salesman smile plastered across his face. “Cooper! Burnett! “ He waved for a waitress. “Drinks for my friends! Sit! We’ll talk.” “You dippin’ into the goods again, Carrera?” Sonny slid into the booth, his eyes flicking from Carrera to the crowd around them. “No, man. But I got you a deal! Cooper, you’re gonna be set, man. That problem down south went away. I got you a line on a forty key deal. Maybe sixty if we move fast. I know it ain’t like the old days, but it’s a nice start.” Carrera’s pupils were pin-holes in paper, and Sonny could see the sweat beading in his hairline. “Come on, Carrera. You’re as high as those damned astronauts they put on the moon. You sure there’s a deal out there?” “Damned right I am, Burnett. Put it together myself. Even paid the tax for you. Consider it a good-faith down payment. You’ll make it back when it moves north.” Rico looked over at Sonny and nodded. “So where’s the deal going down?” “Not here, man. Guy don’t like crowds. Can’t say I blame him after what happened in that bar over by Little Haiti. He’s got a room in a hotel down by the water. One of them places the old fucks go to play cards and wait to die. No one gonna look there.” “Lead on, Carrera.” Sonny looked over at Rico and returned his nod. Like we have any damned choice in the first place. This punk’s all we got. “Wait. You got the cash?” “Not on me, chump. It’s close by. Not that it matters to you. You get your finder’s fee once I check the product and meet your mystery man.” “You and me both, man. Sissy got me on to him. Said she met him a year or so back when he was running with Pancho. But now that Pancho’s checked out, he needs a new contact.” The spiders were dancing heavy on his spine now, but there was nothing Sonny could do aside from aborting the meeting. And he wasn’t ready to sink their only lead. “You say you never met this guy?” They were just inside the Overton doorway, Carrera in the lead with Rico close behind and Sonny bringing up the rear. Carrera turned, his eyes stopping for a moment on a tall blonde in a tight red dress. “No, man, I…” Later Sonny decided they must have been using a silencer. He heard no shot, only saw the side of Carrera’s head explode all over the face of the blonde as a high-powered rifle bullet expanded as it met flesh and bone. She started to scream, when the dead body slammed into her and took her to the floor. Sonny’s gun was in his hand before he even realized he’d drawn the weapon, and he pushed through the crowd at the door from sheer reflex. Rico was right behind him, his own gun out and ready. Screams filled the air as the crowd waiting to get in realized what had happened, and people pushed over each other in their haste to get away. He heard Rico’s voice over the shouting. “Where’d the shot come from?” “I don’t know. I’d say over there.” He pointed toward a cluster of four buildings across the street. “But maybe some of the higher ones further back.” “We gonna check on him?” Sonny looked around. “He’s dead, man. And we’d better blow this pop stand before someone tries to make us stick around.” It was a quick sprint to the Ferrari, and he was almost inside before he noticed the sheet of paper tucked under the driver’s side windshield wiper. On a rooftop almost four hundred yards away, Philipe lowered his rifle with a satisfied smile. Next to him, the spotter confirmed the hit. “Now we go home,” he said to the private. “Our work’s done.” In a plain van parked a block away from the building, Orozco looked over at the man from Captain Salazar’s special communications squad. “Anything on those transmissions?” “No, sir. It sounds like Metro-Dade is conducting some kind of operation, though.” The private chuckled. “They have no radio discipline.” “Is there anything of interest?” “Whatever they’re doing, it sounds like it’s moving our way.” Orozco was about to reply when the back door of the van opened and the two shooters climbed in. “It seems we don’t have to worry about that. Is it done?” “Si, jefe. The message is sent.” Nodding, Orozco turned to the driver. “Get us out of here. But do it carefully. I don’t want to attract any police attention.” Castillo pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you didn’t monitor anything?” Stan shook his head. “Aside from that quick burst right before Sonny and Rico went in, nothing. We had our tapes rolling, though. Either they weren’t listening or they were totally focused on Carrera.” Nodding, Castillo turned to Sonny. “And the note?” “I’d say it’s the second part of their message.” Sonny held up the sheet of plain white paper. “It’s nothing more than a phone number and ‘we should talk’ typed on it.” Lester spoke up. “No prints on the paper, and it’s bulk stuff you could buy or steal anywhere. The typewriter is an IMB Selectric I’d guess. One of however many million they’ve made. And the number tracks back to a payphone down near the canal. But if these guys are as skilled as we think I’ll bet they jumped the line somewhere. It’s what I’d do.” Castillo let it all settle in his head. “The transmission was the go signal. They had someone either watching the door or inside the club, and that was the signal for the shooter to get ready. Then they cleared their people out and waited.” Sonny stared at the phone, and then reached out and hit a button. Castillo didn’t stop him, understanding what he was doing as soon as his finger touched the phone. When Rico started to protest he raised his hand but said nothing. “So I’m calling.” Sonny paused. “Yeah, this is Burnett. You got a line of people calling this number? So I saw your little stunt tonight. Cost me a deal and some dry cleaning bills….You don’t say? I sent a few messages in my time too, pal, and breaking a guy’s deal ain’t the best way to get your point across…And I’m busy right now. Why don’t we meet tomorrow at the Hollywood Burger Truck? It’s usually parked down by the beach. I’ll just wait by it since it’s damned clear you know what I look like. And I’ll bring a friend. I’ll be there from noon until one, and if you don’t show that’s on you.” Castillo waited until he hung up. “Well?” “Guy spoke English well, but with a Spanish accent. I’d say he’s educated, but Mindy or Trudy might be able to tell more from the tape. He asked if I liked their message. They wanted to meet tonight but I stalled them.” Randy nodded. “That thing with the food truck was a damned good idea. Drag ‘em out away from places with lots of shooting positions. It means we can’t cover you, but it also cuts down on their options. Daylight makes it even harder for them.” “What did he ask for?” “He said we needed to talk about trade arrangements. Made it sound all formal. I’d guess he’s enlisted, though. Not one of the officers. His voice didn’t have that officer tone.” Sonny grinned. “That ‘I’m right even if I’m not’ sound.” Castillo nodded. “I don’t plan on sharing any information with Metro-Dade unless they ask the right questions. We can’t afford any leaks on this, and Deputy Chief Franks has his eye on this unit.” Rico snorted. “Franks is an IAB chump.” “With a long memory. I bumped into him a time or two back with OCB.” Castillo nodded. “And he hasn’t forgotten you. Or Tubbs. We can’t afford to take chances now. They’ve reached out directly to Burnett. We have to be on our game.” He looked around the table. “Go home and get some sleep if you can. But use the unmarked vehicles. This unit is on high security alert until Unit 8 is dealt with.” They were almost to the house before Trudy asked the question he’d been dreading. “How much do you think they know about us?” “They know we’re here. They might have connected me with the Task Force through the papers, but it’s hard to say. Obviously they think Burnett is a player.” He shut off the lights and let the car roll into its usual spot. “Once they have a piece in place they’ll start putting the puzzle together faster and faster. We can’t afford any mistakes.” She nodded, stepping out of the car and breathing the thick night air. “No stars tonight. Too many clouds.” “But we still have the waves.” Unlocking the door, he disarmed the alarm system and hung his off the rack suit coat on a hook by the door. “Did you expect them to kill Carrera?” “No. At least not so soon. They must want to get to Burnett badly to risk such a direct message. What does that tell you?” “That they don’t have any sort of network in the US aside from what they brought with them.” She stretched, working the kinks out of her shoulders, and he enjoyed watching her slim body move. “I don’t know about you, but I ain’t even hungry. Just some tea and sleep would do me fine.” “I’ll start the water, my love.” He turned and walked to the kitchen, feeling the cool wood floor under his feet. In truth he had been surprised they took out Carrera both that quickly and that publicly. It felt like a risk to him, at least until he forced his mind into their position. They were used to permissive environments, where the quality of the message was determined by the amount of blood shed and how visible it was to the targets of the message. If anything, Carrera had been a show of restraint on their part. They’d showed more flexibility than he’d assumed they could, and it worried him. The kettle whistled, breaking into his thoughts. He poured the water over strainers filled with green tea leaves and let them steep for five minutes. Then he set the strainers in their stands to dry and carried the steaming cups into the bedroom where he knew she was waiting for him wearing nothing more than her smile. He woke as the morning sun peeked through the slatted blinds. He could feel Trudy lying next to him and hear her even breathing as she slept. Even though he knew he needed to get up he stayed under the single cotton sheet, enjoying being close to his wife. He knew what it was like to lose that comfort. Her breathing changed, and she reached out and touched him under the sheet. “You’re awake.” “Yes.” “But you’re not up.” “Not yet.” “What time is it?” “Not quite six by the sun.” He didn’t look at his watch or the bedside clock. She stretched, pulling the sheet tight over her firm body. “I suppose we should get moving. Sonny’s meet doesn’t give us much time.” “No.” But he still didn’t move. Then duty, bitch that she was, poked him in the heart. He sat up , letting the sheet fall away from his upper body. “We can shower and then make breakfast.” She smiled, sitting up and letting her part of the sheet fall away. Castillo thought back to the first time he’d seen her topless. A cheap apartment safe house when she’d been distracting a pimp just before they came through the connecting door to arrest him. The seed of their love had been planted long before that, but he still remembered the moment as if it were yesterday. “I was hoping you’d say that,’ she said as she leaned over to kiss him. They found the bulk of the Task Force already assembled when they arrived. “Randy’s checking on Dave, but he said he’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Mindy said. Castillo nodded. “Switek and Franz?” “In the Tech Room working on tapes. At least that’s what Stan said. I think he’s still mad about last night.” “He has no reason to be. The tapes were intended as a distraction. He had no way of knowing they’d be going after Carrera so soon. None of us did.” Mindy nodded. “But you know Stan.” “Yes.” I’ll have a word with him later. Or mention it sooner. Castillo knew Stan was always trying to live up to standard only he understood. Trudy touched his arm. “I’m going to check and see if we got anything back on some of those property searches. It’s hard to track the offshore island sales, but most of the brokers are Miami-based so that gives us something. Finding their stuff in the city might be even harder.” “Do what you can.” Castillo watched her go, enjoying the way her pale red dress hugged the curves of her body. Sonny came out of his office. “Captain, say hello to Marcus Jefferson. My northern transport contact man and the friend I’m bringing to the dance.” Ricardo Tubbs was nowhere to be seen. Instead a cocky player wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses, baggy jeans, and an old Ricky Henderson jersey from the Yankees swaggered into the conference room. “Marcus ain’t got time to waste, so let’s get this shit done. And don’t even be thinkin’ you can pull one over on Marcus. Better than you have tried an’ ain’t with us no more.” Castillo nodded. “This was your old cover?” “Yeah.” Rico reappeared as soon as he slipped off the sunglasses. “I really only used him once before…before I came south. But it always felt like a damned good cover, and he lets me get into this one without lookin’ like a target.” “Go with it.” He looked over at Stan and Lester as they came out of the Tech Room. “Your tapes did exactly what they were supposed to do last night, Switek. We had no way of knowing Unit 8 was going to hit Carrera.” Stan nodded. “Got ya, captain. But I have an idea for today’s meet.” He looked over at Crockett. “If Sonny’s up for it.” “Explain.” “So we know these guys are good at surveillance. And they got some skills with radios, too. That means they’re gonna be trying to watch the meet today. Just like we are. I can shade some traffic in to make it sound like Metro-Dade’s Narcotics unit is sniffing around, too. And toss in someone complaining about how the Task Force needs to do their own legwork next time.” Sonny nodded. “It makes sense. They’re gonna know about Burnett, at least by reputation. So it wouldn’t seem out of place. In fact, it might seem strange if no one’s keeping tabs on my…I mean Burnett’s activities.” “Yeah. And with a new cat in town they’d be doubly interested. Marcus ain’t seen the Florida sunshine yet, so he’s a new player.” “How long will that take?” “We’re almost done, captain.” There was confidence in Lester’s voice. “We use clips, mostly. So it’s a matter of rearranging them from the library. Stan got the idea over a couple of beers last night.” “Gina helped, too.” Stan grinned. “She said why wouldn’t Metro-Dade be watching Burnett if he’s such a big player? It just kinda went from there.” Castillo nodded. “Have it ready before we jump off. I want the Roach Coach in position by eleven-thirty. Is there a good reason for it to be in the area?” “Yeah. At least three of those new beachfront restaurants have had health code write-ups in the last two weeks. No one would look twice at an exterminator being in the area before opening time. The fancy ones don’t open until at least two.” Stan shook his head. “I guess it’s a good thing Izzy found a new racket. At the rate they’re knocking down those old hotels and throwing up condos and coffee shops he was gonna be out of business soon anyhow.” “Gotta say I like your new look, Rico.” Randy grinned as he walked into the conference room. “Very urban.” “Marcus don’t take no shit off Chuck dudes, you feel me?” “I ain’t feelin’ you no matter how much you pay me.” Randy chuckled, and Castillo felt some of the tension drain from the room. Humor, even weak humor, had a way of doing that before a major operation. “Dave sends his love. He’s gettin’ better, and they’re cutting back on some of his pain meds and talking about letting him out in a week at the most.” “Good.” Castillo nodded toward the map. “Where would you set up if you were trying to watch this meet?” “Not much good ground around there, like I said last night. Shit’s too far apart or too far away. And with the winds comin’ in off the water it’s a hell of a shooter’s problem. The guy they have is good, but I doubt he’s done much shooting in this kind of environment. If he’s doing overwatch I’d say he’d set up here or here.” He pointed to spots on the map. “Decent view and close enough to be worthwhile.” Sonny looked at the map. “So you’re saying they’d need to be closer in?” “Yeah, and likely on foot. Which means they’d have to talk. Which means…” “I can pick up their chatter.” Stan grinned. “And even if they aren’t I think this tape will mess with their heads if they have ears on anywhere close by.” “Assume they will.” Castillo’s voice matched the determination in his heart. “Unit 8 is technically sound. Maybe as good as we are. They were trained for this kind of work. The advantage we have is they’re not used to operating in this environment.” Sonny nodded, his voice shifting into flat Burnett tones. “I’ve been thinking about that. They’ll be used to working in places where the police either don’t care or have been bought off. That means they’ll either move too fast thinking they can get away with it or go too slow because they don’t know what they can get away with. And if nothing else those tapes of Stan’s will make them start thinking the police are everywhere, even if they aren’t looking for them specifically.” Trudy came out of the Intel office. “I think we got some hits on that property search. There have been three island sales in the last six months that match our criteria. One was to some movie star, but the other two went to shell companies. I’m running those down now.” Sonny turned. “Anything on Miami property?” “That one’s harder. The list sits at around three hundred properties now. Mindy’s trying to narrow it down.” “What about Sissy?” Rico turned to Castillo. “Carrera said she hooked him up with this contact that didn’t exist. You think Unit 8 got their hooks into her?” “They might be using her. But we need to find her. She might know something useful.” “I’ll call Gina.” Stan got up from the table and headed for the Tech Room. “Her unit might have a lead on her, or know someone who does.” “And I’ll run her through the system mixed in with about fifteen other names.” Mindy looked around the table. “We should assume they have someone in Metro-Dade. I doubt they do, but I don’t want to take the chance with Sissy’s life.” “Do what you can in the time we have. I want the plan finalized before ten.” “Mindy and I can keep working here unless you need us in the field.” Castillo nodded. “It’s not idea, but we have to balance our time now.” “Did you want to try overwatch?” “Not this time. There are no good vantage points. We might be able to try something from the water, but I’m also concerned about showing our hand too soon.” Sonny’s voice was still flat. “Don’t do it. Stick with the plan we have. Stan’s tape should get them looking around if they’re listening. Salazar strikes me as the careful, paranoid type. We need to get in his head with this.” Castillo looked around the table. “Randy and I will be in the Roach Coach. It’s the best command point.” Randy shook his head. “I can play beach bum and just hang out in visual range of the meet. No one’s gonna look twice at some dude in shorts and a t-shirt who’s just trying to score. I won’t be on the air, but I’ll be able to see them and react if anything goes south.” Sonny nodded. “Do it. I’m gonna get ready to roll.” Eduardo Salazar looked up. “This is all we have?” The corporal shrugged an apology. “In the time we have? Yes, sir. I wish it were more.” “So do I. But we work with what we have.” Salazar struggled to hide his annoyance. But he knew it wasn’t the corporal’s fault. No one had expected this Burnett to call as quickly as he had, or that he would shift the meeting. Usually when El Unidad called the target whimpered and did what was requested without question. But this was El Notre, and they didn’t know the rules yet. If there was blame to be assigned, it fell on him. “And Philipe says there are no good locations?” “Si. Again, in the time we have he wasn’t able to do much reconnaissance. But he says he can see nothing of use.” Salazar sighed. “Very well. We will make it work. Is the van ready?” “Si, jefe.” The corporal relaxed now that they were on safe ground again. “All the equipment has been checked and is ready for operations. The men have been briefed. Lieutenant Orozco plans to have three men in the vicinity aside from the van in case this Burnett tries something.” “A reasonable precaution, but he won’t try anything. Burnett is a businessman first and foremost. He will hear us out.” Salazar looked at Hidalgo. “Are you ready for the meeting?” “Yes, sir. I’ll go in alone even though he says he will bring another with him.” Hidalgo smiled. “A show of strength on our part.” “He’ll assume there are others close by. We’re not dealing with a frightened peasant, corporal.” “I know, sir. That’s the other reason I’ll go in alone. These Americans are always curious. He won’t do anything to me until he knows what we want. And how it can benefit him. They’re also greedy.” “As are all people, Hidalgo. And you’re clear on what he’s to be told?” “Yes, sir. He pays the tax, and in turn gains access to our suppliers. He can use that however he wishes to make deals, but we will always get our percentage of what he moves. If he declines the offer, I’ll just point out what happened to Carrera and the other buyer.” “Good. Be sure Orozco and his team are in position before you arrive.” “What time, sir?” “The Americans have a phrase. Split the difference. You’ll meet Burnett at twelve-thirty. Abort the meeting if you see any signs of policia in the area. We can’t afford an encounter with them yet. I’ll brief Lieutenant Orozco on that aspect of the operation as well.” He looked down at his notes. “Dismissed, corporal. Tell Orozco he can come in now, please.” “I still don’t understand why we don’t just take this Burnett and get the outlines of his network from him.” “Because, Victor, the colonel does not want to do things that way. Burnett’s network answers to him and him alone. If he is removed, it falls apart and is of no use to us. He deals with people we could not, and commands a kind of loyalty we cannot.” “I still don’t understand…” “Time, lieutenant. We might be able to create something similar to what Burnett has, but it would take months. Maybe longer. The colonel does not feel we have that kind of time. It would also take a commitment of manpower we cannot afford. Lastly, he insulates us. If he’s arrested, we simply disappear. If we have to take over his network, it exposes us in a way the colonel does not find acceptable.” Salazar allowed himself a thin smile. “Unless, of course, you know better than the colonel.” “No, sir. Of course not.” That’s right, little rat. Scurry back to your hole. “I was just suggesting alternatives.” “Sadly we have none. At least none that are viable.” Salazar threw Orozco a bone. “But it’s good to be thinking of them. This is new terrain for us. But last night went well.” “Thank you, sir. We did pick up some police transmissions in the area, but they were never a threat.” “I know. I read the report. What was your sense of them?” “Sloppy radio discipline. But that is no surprise. The local gangs don’t seem to listen in much. I did get the sense they could react quickly if a need arose, though.” “Work that into your planning going forward. And you don’t feel they were targeting Burnett?” “No, sir.” Orozco paused. “My English is still somewhat lacking, but the corporal assured me they seemed to be targeting a location close by. Perhaps one of those things they call crack houses.” “So it was a narcotics unit operation?” “I believe so, sir. Or at least regular patrol units supporting one. We didn’t listen to them long enough to get a full picture.” “Of course. It wasn’t that kind of operation.” Salazar looked down again, indicating dismissal. “Keep listening this time, lieutenant. The whole time. We need to know if Burnett is being watched, and if so by whom.” Orozco picked up on the hint. “Very good, sir.” He clicked his heels in a form of salute and strode out of the office. Once he was gone Salazar let out another long sigh. The man was starting to get his feet under him, or to be more exact he thought he was. And that was dangerous. It meant his ambitious side would start coming to the fore again, and that couldn’t happen at least until the colonel got back in communication. He checked his watch. At least another eighteen hours before the jump headquarters would be fully operational. Another day of keeping Orozco in a leash. But he had confidence in the plan. From his reading of this Burnett it would take at least two, maybe three meetings to either get him on board or determine he was not going to cooperate and deal with him appropriately. And while a part of him wanted to scatter the man’s brain across a sidewalk, he knew Burnett was too important to just discard. At least for now.

Trudy looked at Castillo and he gave a slight nod. “So how do we find them? Just wait for them to take a shot at us?” “Crockett?” Sonny’s voice was flat and as distant as his eyes. “Team Elvis is our best bet, at least for now. Keep sweeping the airways any time we go out. If these guys are in the area they’ll want to talk. They’ll have good radio discipline, but they’ll still show up. It would be good if we had some kind of radio direction finding capability, but maybe we’ll get lucky. You’ll want to have a Spanish-speaker in the Roach Coach from now on. At least some of their communication is likely to be in Spanish.” “What about this Delacruz?” Sonny looked at Trudy. “He’ll be close, but not too close. Maybe check some of the islands just outside our territorial waters. Someplace where he could get to Miami in a hurry but would be out of our normal jurisdiction. Something that changed hands up to a year ago. These guys like the long game, so the groundwork would have been started before they got here. It would have to have a water supply and a way to house more than a few men. Maybe a helipad, too.” He blinked and smiled. “Yeah, it’s a lot. But we might get lucky. I just think if we want to stop these guys we have to go for the head.” “And your meet with Carrera?” “We talked about that earlier. We’ll have the Roach Coach in range to run electronic surveillance, but I think it’s too risky to put anyone else in the Overton. We don’t know who that guy outside was, and if Carrera’s running his security that way there’s a chance our people would be spotted. And if it’s Unit 8, the chance of our people being blown goes up.” Sonny closed his folder. “Tubbs and I will have our pistols, and if anything goes seriously south Stan and his people will be in easy support distance. The meet’s around ten, and I’d like them in position a bit before that to see if there’s any unusual radio activity before we kick off.” “I want everyone to stay off the air as much as possible.” Stan’s voice was firm, and Castillo noticed and liked the change. “These guys are gonna have close to the same capability I do. You can buy damned near anything at Radio Shack these days. We don’t want to tip our hand.” Mindy looked around. “They can monitor our frequencies?” “Yes and no. We scramble most stuff, but they’ll know there’s a transmission. And if it looks strange they’re gonna know it’s law enforcement. Lester and I will run one of our diversionary tapes while you guys are in the Overton. Something designed to make them think Narcotics has something going down a block or so away. Maybe that will get them talking and we can learn a bit more about them.” Castillo nodded. “Good thinking. It might confuse Metro-Dade, but that’s not our problem.” “Where do you want me during all this?” Randy spoke from the end of the table, not looking around. “I think you and Castillo would be best in the Roach Coach, at least for tonight.” Sonny looked at Castillo. “Part of this is dangling Burnett as bait. I don’t want to do anything that might tip them off that he’s anything more than a major transportation guy.” “Coordinate the timing with Stan.” Castillo got to his feet. He knew there was a call he needed to make, but he didn’t want to take that step until they had a little more information. “Trudy and Mindy, see if you can find any properties that match the criteria Crockett outlined. Randy, get me about an hour before go time and we’ll go over equipment. We can’t afford many mistakes now.” Sonny was sitting in his office contemplating Delacruz’s file and the remains of his lunch sandwich with equal enthusiasm when the phone rang. “Crockett.” Jenny’s voice filled his ear. “I just wanted to call and hear your voice.” “I didn’t know you used the phone.” She giggled. “I don’t much. Old habits. But we just had a break at the House and I thought I’d call.” “How’s it going?” It took some effort to shift his brain away from trying to pin down a rogue Peruvian colonel, but he found he appreciated the change. Thinking about something positive was different for him. “Good.” He could almost hear her smile through the line. “The first girls are settling in, and the doctors think they’ll do good. Dr. Jessup is in the first class with them now, going over the rules.” “How’s Gina?” “Great. She’s in there, too. I think she likes this more than police work.” “It wouldn’t surprise me. Gina always cared.” Maybe too much for what we have to do day in and day out, but she’s a natural at the House. “Any sign of that jackass Watkins and his pal?” “No, and you can bet Angie’s watching for them.” Her voice shifted. “You sound tired.” “I guess I am. This just keeps getting deeper and deeper.” “Don’t lose yourself in it, baby. This is fun, and I feel good doing it, but I need you to be you.” “I know. Say hey to Angie for me.” “I will. She’ll say something about blondie being a fool, but you know her heart’s good.” There was a pause. “I need to get back. I love you, baby.” “I love you, too, Jenny.” “That was so sweet.” Sonny grinned as he hung up the phone. “Put a sock in it, partner. Don’t make me bring up those hickies again.” “Man, I ain’t ever gonna live that down, am I?” “Nope.” Sonny leaned back in his chair, realizing just how sore his neck was. “Gotta admit I needed that, though.” “How is Jenny?” “Good. She was just telling me about Caitlin’s House. The first girls moved in today and she’s over there helping Angie run things.” Rico nodded. “It’s good to remember there’s actual hope in the word, ain’t it?” “Yeah. Some days it really is. Even though I expect about half of those girls will be back on the streets in six months. Maybe less.” “We can dream, partner. You got some good people over there, good resources, too.” Rico leaned forward. “And even if you just save one, that’s more than are gettin’ out now.” “You sound like Jenny.” But he smiled. “And you’re right. It’s too damned easy to forget that sitting where we do.” “Especially when you’re chasing bastards like these.” Rico waved his hand to take in the files on both their desks. “Hard to believe America had a hand in creating this.” “It’s all big picture stuff. Like Nam. Now they say it was worth it because Thailand didn’t go Commie. Hell, maybe they’re right. But we still sold South Vietnam down the river. I know that’s a hard one for Marty, but he worked with ‘em way more than I did. I never saw much good in ‘em if I’m honest, but I’m old enough now to know I didn’t see near what he did. Or for as long.” “With age comes wisdom. Isn’t that what Evan said?” “Something like that. I don’t remember for sure.” But Sonny did remember the line. Word for word. Evan still visited his dreams on occasion. He knew me too damned well. Right down to stuff I didn’t know myself back then. Or maybe knew but didn’t want to admit. “You think we’re solid for this Carrera thing?” “As solid as we’re gonna be. It’s a risk. But hell, what isn’t a risk with these Unit 8 boys in play?” Sonny looked down at the folder again, taking a last bite of his sandwich without tasting it. “I just gotta get in this dude’s head. Figure out what he’s gonna do next and break it.” Captain Salazar waited until Orozco finished speaking to look up from his own notes. “I’d say the message was properly delivered. There was no collateral damage. Good work by you and your team, lieutenant.” “Thank you, sir.” There was a hint of something in the reply Salazar couldn’t identify, but he chose to let it pass. This time. “I may need you to support an operation tonight. A small team, not your full compliment.” “Just name the task, sir.” “We have information that a local dealer named Carrera is meeting with our target Burnett tonight at a club called the Overton.” Salazar almost smiled when he thought of the source of the information. The girl thought she was getting ahead by turning on Carrera, and he figured she’d be an interesting diversion until he tired of her. Her skills were diverse and…interesting. “We will eliminate Carrera as part of a message to Burnett. Your team will provide security for our shooter.” “Of course, sir. And if this Burnett does not get the message?” “He will.” Salazar didn’t bother to mention the note they’d place on the windshield of Burnett’s fancy white car. Their cover man watching Carrera had seen him and the New York dealer getting into the Ferrari after they left the club, but true to his orders he stayed on Carrera. That was how they’d found out about the girl. At the time Salazar had been irritated the man didn’t try to follow Burnett and the other dealer, but now he didn’t care. It was better this way. “And what if he decides to ignore the message?” “I don’t think he will. This Burnett is a businessman, Victor. He stays away from the product and is only concerned with making shipping arrangements. He may push back as the Americans say, but our information indicates he’s sensible. He’ll come to terms once he sees the alternative. And if not, we will take our usual steps.” “Perhaps it would be better to set an example with a Yankee now.” “The colonel does not think so.” Salazar smiled inside when he saw Orozco flinch at the invocation of their superior. “In his view it’s far better to work with an established network. And there is no denying this Burnett’s network. He can also give us entry into the networks to the north. New York City. Perhaps even Chicago. We need to get there before the Mexican cartels do.” He smiled, throwing Orozco a bone. “It’s all about access, Victor. Better that we gain it early than have to fight for it with the Mexicans or what’s left of the Columbians.” “Did you wish me to be present for the Overton operation?” Salazar started to answer, then changed his mind. “Corporal Valderama will have tactical control, so it might be best if you were at a distance. He shouldn’t require more than three of your men, but I leave that decision to you. Burnett does not move with a large security team as far as we can tell. In fact, he seems to trust only himself and one or two others with his own personal security. Any threat would likely come from whatever scum this Carrera managed to hire.” “I’ll send a team of three, then.” “Use your own judgment, Victor. But the corporal has tactical control. Be sure they understand that.” Once Orozco left, Salazar leaned back in his chair and let out a long sigh. Meeting with the man was always exhausting, but at least this time it hadn’t involved some kind of reprimand. Orozco and his team had done well delivering their message, better than Salazar had expected. Maybe the reality of operating in El Notre was finally sinking into the younger officer’s head. He’d thought long and hard about how to reach out to this Burnett, but the tipping factor had been the girl’s information. Now they could as the Yankees said kill two birds with one stone. And the message they’d sent when they killed the other middleman, Victor, had been effective. No reason not to repeat the pattern. And it drew less official attention than messages like the boat or The Rooster. Still, he found it odd that his teams had seen no evidence of any unusual response at the bar. Just the usual swarm of police and their lackeys with cameras and vans of equipment. The unformed officers and the ‘plainclothes’ people in their obvious unmarked cars and badly-fitting suits. He’d hoped the display would draw out at least some of this Task Force, but even Antonio’s monitoring had picked up nothing out of the ordinary. He’d again considered following the man from the hospital, but once again discarded the idea. He didn’t have enough people to run a proper surveillance box, and anything less carried the risk of tipping their hand. Unlike Orozco he didn’t underestimate the ability of this Task Force. But perhaps this Burnett would be of use there, too. The man had been running his business for some time, and such a man had to be well-connected and in touch with local intelligence. Another lesson from the highland operations. Never assume the locals don’t know what’s going on around them. Looking at his watch, he shook his head. There was still time before the last review with Valderama, and almost three hours before the colonel was due to relocate to the jump headquarters and be out of communications until the move was complete. He hadn’t shared that information with Orozco, and had no intention of doing so. Some things were best left unsaid. He was about to turn his attention to a report for the colonel when the Radio Shack marvel buzzed. “Sir. Velendez is here and says he has something to report.” Salazar suppressed his sigh. “Very well. Send him in.” Sergeant Velendez could have passed as a student on any campus in the world, which is just what he’d been until he was recruited by El Unidad. One of the handful of enlisted men to go through the intelligence program of the School of the Americas, he was damned good at what he did. And now he stood a few paces in front of Salazar’s desk with a smile on his face. “I think I’ve found one of them, sir.” “Good work, sergeant. Name?” “Lieutenant Castillo. I went back ten years in the papers to be sure. The Vice section used to be headed by a Lieutenant Rodriguez. He was assassinated, and this Castillo appeared. Maybe he came from their Homicide division. It’s hard to say. But he ran Metro-Dade’s Vice and then Organized Crime Bureau for a number of years. And then about three years ago he just disappears.” He snapped his fingers. “Poof!” “And this means…” “Sir, this OCB was Metro-Dade’s major case unit. They went after major traffickers, arms dealers, prostitution, gambling.” Salazar swallowed a smile. When excited Velendez lapsed into very American jargon. “They were the heavy hitters. And this man ran that unit. And then one day he just vanishes from the police reports. Where does he go?” “Someplace better.” Salazar nodded. It made sense. “What do we know about this man?” “Not much. Some of the reporters claimed he had ties to the CIA, but no one could ever prove it. Others said he had worked for DEA before taking a police job.” We can check part of that, at least. Salazar nodded. “I see. But what if he just retired?” “I don’t think so, sir. There was some kind of scandal involving the unit and activities in Costa Morada. This Castillo kept his job through that. For over a year. And then he’s gone from the reports and the unit’s efficiency seems to have dropped, too. One of their people was even arrested last year on corruption charges.” Velendez looked at a point on the wall somewhere to right of the captain’s head. “Sir, I believe this Castillo either commands or is of senior rank in the Task Force.” “Just because he’s not in the papers?” “Because of his record with this OCB. And I think he took some of his people with him, though I cannot find other names. Because when you build a new unit…” “You take cadres from an existing one.” Salazar nodded. “Excellent work.” “And there is one more thing. This Burnett might be able to confirm my theory. He seems to have had some run-ins with Castillo during the whole Manolo cartel affair.” “Burnett, eh? Maybe you can dig into him for me as well.” Velendez smiled. “I did, sir. He appears from time to time in connection with small arrests until he married some pop star name Caitlin Davies. She was later killed during a concert in what the newspapers thought was an attempt to kill Burnett. It was soon after that when he made his moves in the Manolo cartel and succeeded in both taking over and greatly expanding its operations. There was some kind of internal power struggle, combined with a Mexican colonel, and Burnett settled back into transportation again. But it does confirm he is a very dangerous man to cross.” “And his link to Castillo?” “Castillo was on record as vowing to bring the cartel down. Burnett was also arrested on more than one occasion by OCB, only to be released due to lack of evidence.” “Then it seems we will have more to talk about than the price of cocaine in Miami when we meet.” Salazar’s smile was wide and genuine. “Excellent work, sergeant. You may return to your normal duties.” “Sir? If I may I’d like to keep digging. There may be more there. In fact, I’m sure there is. My gut tells me so.” “For now, yes. We may need you in the field before long, though.” Rodrigo Delacruz looked around the high-rise office a final time, making sure he’d left nothing important behind. They’d be coming back at the completion of the operation, but it was a point of pride with him to leave no evidence of his occupancy behind. He thought back to Salazar’s report earlier that morning. Orozco had done well enough on his first mission in El Notre, but Rodrigo could still hear the hesitation in his second-in-command’s voice when talking about the younger officer. It was a consideration, but a small thing compared to the world of opportunities open before them in El Notre. Still, there were things left to do here before the move. One of them waited in the lobby outside his office. It wasn’t much, a mere nuisance in the bigger picture, but still something that had to be finished before he left the city. Like many career military men, Rodrigo didn’t like dealing with outsiders. People who didn’t know or appreciate the customs of his service or the ways they conducted their business. But they’d been forced to bring in outsiders, both to replace losses suffered and to expand operations in certain areas. And some of these men proved lacking. Often they fell by the wayside, killed by rivals or the police when they overstepped the mark or sometimes by original men of Unidad Ocho on the orders of their superiors. But this one…this one Rodrigo knew he had to handle himself. Part of being a legitimate commander meant he had to pick up the hard jobs from time to time. Get mud on himself so the men knew he understood what he asked them to do because he’d done it himself. He’d learned that years ago, not at the service school but from an old captain who’d come up through the ranks and spent his career wallowing in the mud and filth of the backwoods provinces. The man never rose above that rank, but his men would follow him anywhere and do anything he asked because he was right there doing it with them. He’d never forgotten that lesson. Shifting, he felt the weight of the heavy .45 tucked into his waistband. Just to the left of his belt buckle, behind the jacket but within easy reach. Hammer back and the safety on with a round in the chamber. Just the way he’d been taught to carry the big auto-loader. It was time. The outer office had no windows, and the prints on the walls could have come from any corporate office in the world. Rodrigo’s orderly, a long-time private who’d been with him to the hard places, looked up from his desk. He knew what was coming. The other man, tending toward fat and overdressed in clothes he’d ordered in from some tailor in Hong Kong, didn’t. It was the fat one who grinned. “Eh, Rodrigo. Or jefe is it? Either way, so long as we’re making money, right?” Rodrigo nodded, playing the fool to put the real one at ease. “So they say, my friend. So they say. But tell me of this business with Cruces. Did they change the terms?” “Terms? No. You got the agreed-on tax. They even paid early.” “Ah. It must be a mistake on my part, then. Because it looks like the payment was short around ten grand.” “Ah, no. That must be a mistake. You know peasants can’t count for shit, right?” He grinned over at the orderly, a dark man with the thick black hair of the highland Indians. “My boys made sure it was right before we sent it over.” “I see.” Rodrigo wandered past the desk, stopping only when he was a few feet from the man. “So it’s my men that made the mistake?” “It’s all I can think.” “Then you don’t think for shit. My men don’t make mistakes. It was that peasant you’re mocking who brought it to my attention. He studied accounting at the University of Lima before he became a solider.” The Colt was out and pointing at the man’s head. “The only mistake was you thinking you could get away with it.” The shot boomed like thunder, amplified as it bounced off the office walls. A spatter of blood and brains decorated the far wall, red and gray stark against the matte white paint. Flicking the safety back on, Rodrigo jammed the gun back into his pants, feeling the metal warm against his skin. “Have that cleaned up as soon as possible. And relay the order to Sergeant Chocano. Seven of his men are to die. No, make that eight. I didn’t leave enough of his head for a proper message.” “It will be done, colonel.” The private nodded. “Will you be leaving today?” “Within the hour.” “I’ll see to it at once, then. Will we be taking the plane?” “At least to Columbia. From there it may be by boat. The jump headquarters has a helipad but nothing for conventional aircraft.” Rodrigo stepped over the cooling corpse on the floor, ignoring the familiar smell of death and voided bowels. “We will be out of touch for no more than twenty four hours. The advance team is already on site making the preparations.” As he rode the elevator down to his waiting car in the building’s garage, Rodrigo felt a sense of satisfaction growing in his gut. The dead mn had been skimming from their take for more than one payment. That message had been a bit overdue. But with the Miami operation just beginning, he’d felt he should wait until things were moving forward on that front. And now they were. There’d be some lag as the remnants of the dead man’s crew sorted out their lesson, but he’d send two of his Unidad Ocho veterans to sit on them until it was running right. And if it didn’t, the veterans would expand the lesson to the entire crew and find another. Success in this business always attracted new recruits. The head of his security team, another sergeant, held the door for him. “Your luggage is loaded, jefe. We are ready to depart.” “Excellent. Let’s go. I detest travel. The sooner it’s over the better. Has Sergeant Major Pascal checked in?” “Si. He’s already at the airport waiting with the first plane and the rest of the headquarters people.” “Good. My orderly will be on the second aircraft. He has some cleaning to arrange upstairs first.” “Very good. Shall we go?” “Yes. The sooner the better.” Sonny checked his watch one last time. He was already settling into the black suit and flat eyes of Burnett, which made the last stages of the briefing hard. “Gametime in under an hour, people. Stan, you’d best head out now and get the Roach Coach in position. We’ll open the mics for a comm check when we park and then go quiet. I don’t want to tip them off if they’re listening.” Stan nodded. “We’ll start rolling our pirate radio half an hour before you go in.” He chuckled. “Some light programming for their listening entertainment if they’re riding the airwaves. And if not it’ll confuse the shit out of someone. We’re using non-standard frequencies so it shouldn’t mess with Metro-Dade at all. But they’re just close enough someone snooping will find them.” “Ok, people. Showtime. Mindy, Trudy, I know you wanna go but it’s better you keep going through those property records. We need to get a handle on where these guys might be hiding. Or planning to hide. This should be a simple meet, but we know nothing with these Unit 8 bastards is ever really simple.” Once Team Elvis had trooped into the elevator and headed downstairs, Rico turned to Sonny. “You sure there’s no way we can get Trudy and Mindy out there?” “Not without drawing attention. These guys are military. They’re gonna work with the plan, see things that don’t fit in that plan. And if they’re leaning on Carrera they’d know we never bring dates to business meetings.” “Yeah. I just don’t like hitting it alone. You know?” “Yeah. It changes when you got something to lose, doesn’t it?” “That it does, Sonny. That it does.” Rico looked around the room. “You think we can take these guys down?” “Yeah.” He felt his Burnett voice coming on strong and did nothing to hold it back. “I got them now, Rico. I know how they’re gonna think. It’s like looking in the mirror. Maybe they’re meaner than Burnett, but we can use that to our advantage, too. That message they like to send? It’s a weakness. Something we can get inside of. It also means they’ll understand it when we send one of our own.” He could see the doubt in Rico’s eyes. “You really think so? These psychos have killed at least thirteen people in Miami alone.” “Yeah, but to them it’s a form of communication. Symbols. Eight heads. Eight bullets in each body. If we kill at least eight of them, we’re telling them we’re bigger. Meaner. And if we do it right, it sends a message they can’t miss or misunderstand.” “But is that law enforcement?” Sonny shook his head. “That I don’t know, Rico. But it’s a law they’ll understand. I know Marty wants them out of Miami, and this is the only way to do it. You arrest them, they send more and the ones we bust recruit people in jail. What I know is how Sonny Burnett would answer a challenge like that. And that’s what Castillo wants.” “But is he right to want that?” “I can’t answer that one. And neither can you. That’s Marty’s question to answer, and if I know the man at all he’s already answered it for himself. And there’s another player in the picture. How do you think he got those damned files?” “An old contact.” “Come on, Rico. Old contacts don’t have files like that. Even Marty’s. They have names and dates in their heads. Shit they whisper to you over a drink or six and then deny knowing. Someone wants us to clean up their mess, and it’s someone high up in the Federal side. Or the Company. Hell, both of ‘em had a big hand in creating Unit 8. We’re just helping them clean up the mess.” “You think Marty suspects?” “I don’t know. Maybe, but he’ll ignore it. These guys are trying to rip the guts out of Miami, and for him that’s about as personal as it gets.” Sonny sighed, pushing Burnett back into his corner for a moment. “I can’t say I know what goes on in Castillo’s head, Rico. But for him any attack on this city is very personal. Look at how he reacted back when Evan was involved with those MAC-10s. Or any time a big deal was going down. He comes out of his corner like a rabid wolverine if someone threatens the city. The Company’s gonna know that.” “Yeah. But does that make it right?” “Is it right to ignore it and let it happen? I think that’s what guides Marty.” “Yeah.” Rico sighed. “I get it, Sonny. I really do. It’s just…this is so much bigger than most of the crap we sweep up day after day.” “Yeah. And that’s why we need to smash it now. The military trains you to reinforce success, and if they get their foot in the door it’s success. They’ll just keep coming.” Sonny looked at his watch. “Come on, partner. We gotta get ready to hit the street.” He looked into Rico’s eyes, searching for any lingering questions. “You ready for this?” “Always, partner. Like you said, I got something to lose now. And I lost enough already. Let’s get this done.” They turned into the Overton lot just after ten. Sonny parked the Ferrari and killed the engine while Rico made a quick mic check. Once he nodded Sonny killed his own radio and stepped out of the car into the humid heat of the evening. Clouds had rolled in just before sunset, trapping the heat in like a blanket on a bed, and he could feel sweat beading in the hollow of his spine. Rico looked over the low-slung roof of the car. “You ready to make some deals?” “Always, Cooper. Always.” Sonny flashed a quick smile before letting the cold Burnett mask slide into place. He fought the temptation to scan nearby rooftops. Unit 9 had at least one sniper on the books, and according to the files they’d been Quantico-trained. He’d just assume someone was watching them and play along. Better to focus his attention close in. A knife in the ribs from four inches away was just as dangerous as a bullet from four hundred yards.

Rico found Mindy drinking coffee on the rooftop patio of Casa Cooper. He slid his arm around her waist, feeling the smooth silk of the robe under his fingers. “What’s on your mind, pretty lady?” “Did you see the news?” “The four bodies? Yeah. I’d guess it’s Unit 8 with another of their damned messages. Given the neighborhood it’s likely Tech 9s, so it’s not much of a loss.” “But who will they target next? You? Sonny?” “Naw. We’re valuable, or they think we are.” He gave her a squeeze. “I get that you’re worried. So am I. But we can’t let it take control. If we do we get slow when we should be fast.” She nodded, her red hair shifting in the slight morning breeze. Yesterday’s clouds were gone, and the sun held the promise of a hot and humid day. “I try not to worry. I do. But it just comes sometimes. Like when I’m just sitting looking out over the city. Or when you head out with Sonny to meet someone. It never bothered me before.” “It changes when you care about someone.” Rico turned her to face him and kissed her, tasting the coffee on her lips and tongue. “Don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t go back to how I was for anything. But things do change when you have someone. You worry more, not so much about yourself but what might happen to them. But I wouldn’t change a damned thing about it.” “Neither would I.” The smile on her lips found its way to her eyes. “But…” “But what?” Now he was worried. There was something in her eyes he hadn’t seen before. Just a little hint deep in the blue. Was she getting ready to tell him she was leaving? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he was usually better at seeing the signs. They’d been together for a time now, and worked with each other longer than that. “I…” She shook her head. “This all sounded so much better in my head.” “It usually does.” Rico smiled, trying to hide the fear building in his heart.” “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” “Now you’re gonna have me worried.” The fear kept pressing at the back of his throat. “If you’re wanting out, I…” “No! Oh, God no.” She hugged him. “I really did screw it up, didn’t I?” “Just say what’s on your mind, Mindy.” She nodded, not looking up. “Rico, I…oh to hell with it. Rico, will you marry me?” The fear exploded in a heartbeat, replaced with someone Rico couldn’t quite define. Even later he wasn’t quite sure what to call the feeling, but he knew he liked it. “Of course I will, Mindy. I’ll even pick out my best dress.” “Now you’re making fun…” “No, baby. I’m not.” He ran two fingers along the underside of her chin and tilted her face up toward his. “I’m not making fun of you at all. How could I? You’ve got bigger balls than I do.” He chuckled. “Hell, of course I’ll marry you.” “We can always tell Sonny you asked me.” “And have Jenny call us liars? You know she would.” “Yes.” Mindy giggled, kissing him hard. “She would. But maybe this should be our secret until the case is over.” “Yeah. No reason to get them all excited while there’s still work to do.” Rico smiled, still feeling like he was standing about six inches off the ground. “Though I gotta ask. Why now?” “I had to know. If anything happened and I hadn’t asked you I don’t think I could have taken it.” She buried her face in his chest. “I know that sounds selfish, and maybe it is. But I was so scared and I wasn’t sure if you knew how I felt, and I had to know how you felt, and…” He kissed her again. “It’s ok, baby. I know how you feel. I really do. Hell, if I had more guts I would have asked you. But I didn’t want to lay that on you before we went after these chumps. I don’t know. But now I guess we both know.” He kissed her again and looked at his watch. “And we’d better finish getting ready if we want to make it in on time. I expect Castillo’s gonna have something to say about those bodies.” They got in just after Sonny, and Rico knew from the glint in his eye his partner had seen something. “Morning, kids. Captain wants a briefing after lunch. He’s been locked in his office since before I got in, and Trudy said he’s got a lunch meeting with Pete. Stan and Lester got the reports from the crime scene. Rico, let’s give ‘em a going over just in case.” “Solid.” Rico winked at Mindy before sauntering into the office he shared with Sonny. As soon as they were inside, Sonny shut the door. “Give, partner. Something’s up in Casa Cooper land. I can see it in her eyes. Did you…” “Look, Sonny. Promise you’ll keep it between us?” Rico raised his hands. “I kinda gave my word.” “You got it, partner. But did you…” “Naw, man. She did. She asked me to marry her.” “If you said no I’ll throw you through the damned window.” “Sonny…not only am I pretty, I’m smart.” Rico grinned. “You bet your ass I said yes. “ Then his eyes turned serious. “This whole Unit 8 thing’s got her shook up. She said she had to know if I felt the same way about her, and if anything happened and she didn’t know…” “I get it, man. Life’s too damned short.” Sonny looked out the window. “I’ll keep it quiet until after the case, but I want you to know something…forget what you owe me for Casa Cooper. I want you two to start off right. I know it ain’t the same as a fancy honeymoon, but…” “Man, I can’t do that. You’re talking serious cash.” “Naw.” Sonny turned back to Rico. “You’re the best friend I’ve got, Rico. If I can help you start off with no serious debt with the woman you love, it’s the damned least I can do. I know how hard it can be on a cop’s pay, and you don’t need that hassle. You paid your dues, partner. And then some.” “Thanks, Sonny.” Rico blinked and turned away, not wanting Sonny to see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “I don’t know…” “Then don’t say anything. I won’t mention it again.” Sonny laid his hand on Rico’s shoulder. “We only got each other, partner. This Task Force is like some strange backwoods family. And I was raised to help family. And now we’d better look those files over so that when Castillo tests us later we don’t flunk out.” Rico chuckled, pushing his feelings deep down for another time. Putting on his cop face. “You got that right, partner. What did they bring back?” “Not much, and Baker’s not adding anything we can use. The vics were four Los Tech 9 members, one a suspected crew boss and the other three foot soldiers. They were each shot eight times at close range with what might have been silenced automatic weapons. 9mm. There was no shots fired call, and the bartender says all he heard was a kind of ripping thud. No solid description of the shooters. The bartender thinks there were five or six, but he hit the dirt first thing and didn’t see much. He did say they were all wearing ski masks.” “Any word on why they picked Los Tech 9s for a message?” “Nothing concrete. Baker says Gangs has some street chatter that someone had been trying lean on the Columbians and they told the new guys to take a hike.” Sonny shook his head. “Wrong move.” “Does this change our meet with Carrera tonight?” “Naw. We gotta go through with it. See how scared the little punk is at least.” Rico nodded. “Any word on Dave?” “Randy stopped by there earlier. He said Dave’s getting stronger, but the docs still won’t let him move around much. There’s a warrant team still pulling security.” Sonny shook his head. “Gotta say those guys look after their own.” “Yeah. It don’t feel right not being able to look in on him, but Castillo’s right about that.” “He usually is. And Randy’s careful coming back, too.” Sonny’s eyes took on a strange, distant expression. “But that doesn’t matter much. They aren’t going to follow him, because I wouldn’t. They leave Dave alone so people will come to see him, and they can try to put together a picture of us. Besides, trying to follow Dave would tip their hand. I don’t think they know we’re aware of them yet, let alone how much we know.” “You think so?” “Sure. These guys are trained. No question. But they’re also used to going up against amateurs. People who are scared to death of them or can be bought off. I’d lay odds they’ve never run into anything like us before. I want these guys, Rico. Not as bad as Castillo does, but I want them.” Before Rico could reply there was a knock at the door and Castillo stuck his head in. “I’ve got a meeting with Chief Deputy Washington. We’ll brief tonight’s operation and some background when I get back. Keep everyone close. Deputy Mather can update Deputy Blair when we’re done.” Rico nodded. “How bad’s the pressure, captain?” “That’s what Chief Deputy Washington and I are going to find out, lieutenant.” Once Castillo left, Rico turned to Sonny. “Am I the only one whose skin crawls when he only uses my rank?” “Naw. That’s called a normal human reaction. He’s under some serious stress.” Sonny shook his head. “I got to get in these bastards’ heads, Rico. Then I can get ahead of them.” “We’re gettin’ there. One question, though. Are you gonna need Marcus?” “Yeah. They’ve updated your cover. I forgot to tell you. Sooner or later Unit 8’s gonna reach out to Burnett. And when they do, Marcus shows up as my northern connection. The cat who runs all the weight north of the Mason-Dixon line.” “Solid.” Rico worked his shoulders, digging down deep into memories with a bite. He’d used Marcus just before his brother was murdered. “Marcus don’t roll with all that head-cuttin’ shit. Get Marcus product an’ he delivers, regular as clockwork.” He laughed. “Yeah, I should warn you. Marcus wears Ricky Henderson stuff an’ talks like him, too. Fast and all that.” Sonny laughed. “Don’t bother me none. It’ll keep those psychos off balance.” “And they can’t hit me because they need a way into that northern market. Lots of money to be made there.” “Now you’re tracking. They’ll push, probably hard, but they won’t act right away. They need us.” “Let’s just hope they know that.” Rico chuckled to hide his growing unease. “Oh, they do, man. They may act like psychos, but the end game for them is money.” Sonny kept looking out the window. “All we can do now is hope someone doesn’t put on the brakes. Marty’s got it right. You don’t try to arrest these guys. You put them in the ground.” “You sure about that, man? Feels kinda…” “Strange? Yeah, it does. But anyone who cuts off heads as a message isn’t gonna be impressed by prison. Hell, they might even use that to recruit more people. But they’re military-trained. They understand casualties and lack of replacements. Marty wants to convince them the cost of doing business in Miami is just too high. At least that’s my takeaway from what he said.” “But you think they’ll really stop?” “Hell, I don’t know, Rico. We’re on a treadmill in this job most days. But I do know they might change the way they do business, and that’s something. Besides, if they’re military the Miami idea likely came from that colonel. You take him out, the group loses direction. They start fighting over who’s next in line, especially if we can hit their entire command staff. And maybe the part that’s down south decides to stay there. Maybe it doesn’t stop them long term, but it’s either that or get used to piles of heads popping up on contested drug corners.” “Yeah.” Rico nodded, still not as comfortable as he’d like but knowing Sonny was right. And was it really that much different from going after Menton? Or the Hitler Youth chumps? He shrugged. “So how do we handle Carrera?” “I want to see what Marty had in that bag first. But my gut says go in like we did before, but with the Roach Coach close enough to sweep for any transmissions. These guys will want to talk, even if it’s just a few words. That guy who was watching outside the Overton was likely either with Carrera or watching him, not us. I think these guys are still gathering intel, and if they take a shot at anyone it’s gonna be Carrera and not us?” “Why?” “Didn’t your grandma ever read you fairy tales? You never kill the goose that might lay the golden egg. And we’re geese, partner. Carrera’s just a partridge without a pear tree.” Martin Castillo never liked going into Federal buildings, but he knew Pete Washington was right to insist on the meeting being on his turf. Castillo had been able to read through the gruff lawman’s words to understand what was coming, and the more they could display the Federal Government’s authority the better. He kept his sunglasses on moving through security and the lobby, his badge and presence clearing a path with no difficulty. As the elevator hummed its way up to the floor housing one of God knows how many conference rooms in the building, he let his mind play back over what they knew and what he still needed to tell his team. Kiki had come through. It was well worth closing their account, though he had to admit he’d miss talking to the man who had once been his friend. Pete met him just outside the door, his pressed suit making him look even more like a tall George Jefferson. He grinned and stuck out his hand. “Marty! We need to stop meetin’ like this. Better with a pitcher between us. How’s my man doin’?” “Good, Chief…Pete. The wound wasn’t as bad as they first thought, but he’ll still have some rehab ahead of him. I’ve been training with Deputy Mather to fill in as his spotter.” “Well ain’t that some shit. Don’t go given’ them ideas. Dry cleaning these suits is a bitch.” Pete grinned and dropped out of his old boy sheriff act. “We got two deputy chiefs from Metro-Dade in there. I’ve been letting them cool their heels just to show them where this stands. I do not want them taking this case. I agree with your initial report. This is a major outside threat, not some local problem even if it looks that way on the five o’clock news.” “I’m wary to read them in too far, Pete. Metro-Dade likes to talk to the press.” “I know. It’s a damned fine line, Marty. But I want the Task Force on this one like sauce on a rib. We’re strapped on resources, but we’ll talk about that once we’re done with these two.” He nodded toward the door. “You ready?” Castillo nodded and followed the Federal lawman into the room. The men from Metro-Dade, wearing their dress uniforms decorated with ribbons they may or may not have earned on their own, clustered toward the head in a vain attempt to assert control over the room. Pete strutted past them, his simple silver star glittering from a badge carrier clipped to his belt, and shifted a chair so it occupied the head spot. Castillo nodded to the deputy chiefs and sat down close to Pete. It was all theater, and he wanted to show where his allegiance lay without saying a word. Pete’s Cracker sheriff voice filled the room. “So here we are, gents. What’s so important you had to go and ruin my morning coffee? A man ain’t worth shit until he has a good cup of Joe in him.” Castillo recognized the whine of Deputy Chief Franks without even seeing the man. “We’re here about the murders last night at…what’s that bar’s name?” “The Rooster.” Deputy Chief Turner was a bulky man who could have stepped out of any number of ‘70s cop shows. Castillo remembered he’d come up though Homicide, while Franks was IAB to the core. “Four dead Columbians. On top of those damned heads that floated in not too long back. And we hear your people are working both cases. Any particular reason?” “Cause they ran into a case the Task Force has been working for months.” Pete’s grin faded. “We’re been coordinating with your Homicide boys. What’s his name, captain?” “Baker. Detective Baker.” “Yeah, that’s him. Smart feller. You’d best try to hang onto him.” “And we’re here to make sure that coordination benefits us both.” Franks’ whine took up the conversation again. “Your Task Force can be less that forthcoming sometimes.” “Sure. By my order. We succeed because we don’t yap until the job’s done.” “Do I need to remind you it’s our people you’re using?” “And do I need to remind you how successful these boys have been? And how we’ve stepped back and let everyone and their damned dog take the credit for that success? Or about your mess in OCB that we cleaned up for you?” Castillo tried not to smile. Pete wasn’t backing down in the slightest, and he knew how to hit these men where it hurt. “We handed information off to your Narcotics unit during the Delgado case. They were quite successful with that information.” Franks gave his five o’clock news smile. It made Castillo want to punch him in the face. “No one’s denying the success of this project. But maybe it’s time for them to take a step back.” Pete shook his head. “Why? You got some damned big success to tell me about? Some new source gonna wrap these boys up with pretty bows? Thing is, the AUSA is working up a terrorism case against these boys. It’s gonna take more than hurt feelings to convince him to drop that one.” “We’re talking about twelve homicides here!” “Thirteen.” Castillo’s voice was flat. “They also killed a mid-level dealer named Victor. And wounded a Federal officer.” “We’re sorry about your man,” said Franks in a voice that wasn’t sorry at all. “But the local situation…” “Hasn’t changed one damn bit. You still have no leads, and my people do have leads.” Pete narrowed his eyes. “And before you get any crazy ideas, don’t forget your people were seconded to me until the Marshal’s Service decides the Task Force has served its purpose. Try anything funny, and I’ll have the AUSA on you so fast you won’t be able to find your damned soap on a rope.” Turner looked at Franks. “I told the director this was a waste of time.” “I ain’t saying we won’t share information. We have been and will continue to do so. When it don’t put my people in danger.” Castillo nodded. “The Task Force is successful in part because no one knows we’re here. My people work undercover for extended periods, and our raids go down with little or no collateral damage. I will not endanger my people for any reason.” Franks sneered. “I know some of your people, Castillo. How many times has Crockett been looked into by IAB? There’s still that whole Manolo case file waiting to be reopened. And Tubbs? And that hooker decoy?” “You’re talking about my wife.” Castillo locked eyes with Franks and held the unblinking stare until the man looked away. “I’d suggest another topic.” Pete chuckled. “Bad move, gents. I’ve interviewed all of Castillo’s people that came over from Metro-Dade. I have total confidence in all of them. Hell, my people love working with them, and I’ve got some demanding folks in this office. But we ain’t here to talk about personnel. You made your pitch, and I heard you out. Now you can go tell your boss it didn’t do a lick of good.” He opened the folder in front of him. “This is direct from the AUSA. We’re going after these guys as terrorists and at least one of ‘em has a war crimes indictment down south. That makes it a fugitive case, which makes it our case. Tell your director he can take it up with the AUSA if he wants.” He looked down at his watch. “And now I figure we all got places we need to be or would rather be. Marty, come on down to my office.” Pete’s office was an odd mix of marshal and barbecue memorabilia that wouldn’t have been out of place in some small roadside bar back in the woods. Castillo thought it suited the man perfectly, both his public face and the real lawman lurking underneath. Pete waved Castillo to a chair and poured coffee for them both before sitting down himself. “I didn’t want to drag you into that, but those two assholes insisted.” “Franks and I have history.” Castillo sipped at his coffee. “He never should have been promoted past file clerk.” “But I hear he kisses ass really well. That gets you far.” Pete grinned. “He’s been sniffing around for a while now. That big guy was just window dressing.” “Turner’s not a bad cop, but that was a promotion he didn’t want.” “Funny what a guy will take on when he’s got kids who need schoolin’. Or a wife that don’t know when to stop spending.” Pete locked eyes with Castillo. “Keep your eyes on that Franks, though. He’s got a burr under his tail about your boys and won’t quit easy.” Castillo’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. “He’s not the only one with files.” “That’s what I like to hear, and then say I never heard.” Pete slapped the top of his desk. “But between you an’ me, Marty, we both know this is winding down. They’re still tryin’ to promote me, and I don’t know how long they’ll let me keep saying no. And it’s gotta be hard on your folks.” “It is. They just won’t admit it. And…” Castillo paused, then kept speaking. He had a bond with Pete, though they came from different worlds in so many ways. “And I’m getting tired.” “Hell, who wouldn’t? You’ve been runnin’ full steam for what, almost thirty years now? Same as me, and I can’t imagine how tired you gotta be. Plus you got a wife now. You’ve earned your time, Marty. We wrap this one up, maybe it’s a nice ‘goodby and fuck you’ present for a whole lot of folks.” “We’ll talk over a pitcher once this is done.” Castillo smiled, not surprised Pete’s thoughts were running in the same direction. “But first we have to bring this Unit 8 down. Was that AUSA talk a bluff?” “No. I got the office sold on that international fugitive stuff.” Pete chuckled. “I think they’re playin’ along because of all the good ink we’ve gotten them. But I agree with you, Marty. These bastards are a major threat. We have to show them they can’t operate that way in Miami without paying a damned heavy price. Your team up to it?” “Crockett’s planning now, and he’s starting to get in their heads. I’ve got some new intel that will help with that. I may need more resources, but I think I can get them through other agencies.” Castillo smiled. “And the less I know the better? Copy that. Just don’t blow up half of Miami with an air strike or something, ok? I don’t want to see that Franks fucker again without at least three shots in me.” “You have my word. The Miami operations will be handled by our people. But I think there might be one mission elsewhere that we’d need these other assets for.” “Good to know. Just give me a shout before the thing I don’t know about happens so I can deny I ever heard about it.” Pete’s laugh bounced off the walls. “Hell, maybe it’s time I did get out of this rodeo.” Driving back to the Task Force headquarters, Castillo let the conversation replay in his head. He’d been concerned Franks still had it out for Crockett, but he had no idea the man’s horizons had expanded to Tubbs and even Trudy. His knuckles went white on the steering wheel of the unmarked Ford. If that man ever got near his wife… Then the anger faded. It wasn’t productive now. Maybe later there’d be time for the luxury. After reading the contents of the files Kiki left in their dead drop, a locker in Miami’s Amtrak station, Castillo knew he’d need to reach out to Hendricks sooner rather than later. He also knew which assets he wanted, but hadn’t sorted down to the ones he really needed. Part of that would be on Crockett. But the meeting had been good for at least one thing: he knew they needed to watch their backs now in addition to Unit 8. He found them waiting in or near the conference room, Lester and Stan working on one of their vast library of deception tapes in the Tech Room, and Randy doing something in the Armory that left the air heavy with the tang of Hoppe’s Number 9 solvent. Nodding to Trudy he went into his office and came out with the canvas bag. It was time to read them in. “Colonel Rodrigo Delacruz.” A file landed with a light thud on the table. “Graduated near the top of his class in Peru’s West Point. His background is infantry, with a tour in the presidential guard unit. Captain Eduardo Salazar.” Another thud. “Graduated around the middle of his class. His background is in intelligence and support operations.” A final thud. “Lieutenant Vincente Nunez. Another intelligence officer who graduated at the top of his class. All these men were trained at the School of the Americas and later underwent advanced training at various law enforcement and military centers in Quantico and Georgia. And those are just the officers. At least twenty enlisted men went through the same training or abbreviated versions. One, Gordo Pascal, the unit’s sergeant major, was sent back to Peru after he almost beat a prostitute to death outside Fort Benning.” Castillo walked around the table and pointed to pictures tacked up next to the large-scale city map. “This is Delacruz and that’s Salazar. There are other officers, but my source only had names. One, Lieutenant Victor Orozco, has a reputation for being hot-headed according to some of his former instructors. He was to attend training but the class was canceled during some of the Iran-Conta fallout. A list of the enlisted men is in your folders. Remember these are only the men who attended or were scheduled to attend training in the United States.” Rico raised a finger. “Did your source know how big Unit 8 is?” “Yes. Around five hundred men on paper. They certainly lost some when they broke with the Peruvian government, but have likely added more through recruiting since then. It’s the ones trained by the United States that should concern us. These men all received the basics in espionage tradecraft, interrogation, and” - he looked straight at Randy - “sniping and counter-sniping. Some was done by the CIA, but the bulk came from the FBI or the military.” “Why?” “Unit 8 was originally formed to locate and destroy terrorists in Peru. At least that’s how it was sold to the military and others involved in the training. What the real intent was we don’t know. Or how much the Company knew about that intent. We do know a great deal of how Unit 8 acts is a direct result of this man.” He pointed at Delacruz’s picture. “He’s a third-generation army officer. A man convinced he knows his duty, maybe better than his superiors. Such men are dangerous if they believe they have been betrayed, and the newly-elected Peruvian government wanting to try him and many of his men for war crimes must have seemed like the ultimate betrayal to him.” Sonny nodded. ‘Yeah. I can see that. Guy thinks he’s given his all for his country and then his country spits on him. He’d blame his leadership, and then want to take care of his men.” “Exactly. All his instructors commented on the deep bond he felt with his men, but they also said he showed no reluctance to apply harsh discipline if he thought it was needed. One evaluator said he felt the colonel looked at any lapse as a direct personal insult and reacted accordingly.” Stan looked up from the file. “Yeah. Says here he slapped one of his lieutenants in class when the man asked a question he thought was stupid.” “There was a major at one time, but he was killed in action. That leaves Captain Salazar as the second in command. Salazar’s different. During training exercises his plans were slow, methodical, and almost never contained errors. He was obsessed with gathering intelligence before acting, and many of Delacruz’s successes against Sendero Luminoso trace back directly to Salazar’s influence and intel-gathering abilities. He does the planning, but Delacruz provides the focus.” Castillo paused and looked around the room. “These men are dangerous. More so than we thought at first.” Sonny nodded, and Castillo could see the distant look in his eyes. “Delacruz won’t be here himself, but he’ll send someone he trusts. Probably this Salazar. I’ll bet the first team is made up almost entirely of men who were trained in this country. They’d be best-equipped to hide in plain sight. They’d gather the intel and then he’d send in a team of shooters to carry out the operations. But he also seems like the kind of guy who’d want to be close to the action. I sure as hell don’t see him as one of those commanders who rides around in the chopper at two thousand feet.”

Trudy was waiting for him when he stepped off the elevator. “I got a hit for you on that Sissy. She’s a got rap sheet about a quarter of a mile long. Mostly prostitution, but a hit here and there for possession to seal the deal. There’s a note that she’s often seen in the company of Pancho Mendoza. If she’s got a pimp he’s not in her file.” “Thanks, darlin’.” Sonny grinned. “Looks like that punk Carrera might have been doing something out of character. Telling the truth.” “Maybe she’s keeping tabs on him.” “Now that could be. I just wish I would have gotten a better look at the guy in the stairwell. He could have been Carrera’s rent-a-gun, but I can’t say for sure. So we assume he isn’t and someone’s keeping tabs on him and knows there’s a deal going down involving Burnett and Cooper.” Trudy nodded. “That seems fair.” She was about to walk into the office when he touched her arm. “Do you ever think about hanging it up?” “Marty and I were talking about that last night.” She looked around and lowered her voice. “Yeah. I do, anyhow. Getting shot kind of takes the shine off the job.” “Tell me about it.” She smiled. “And it takes a lot out of him. People here don’t know.” “Jenny and I talked about it this morning.” He shook his head. “She gets it. And now…it just doesn’t have the same thing it did even five years ago.” “You lost Caitlin to it, Sonny. I can understand why you’d not want to have that kind of loss again.” “Yeah, I guess that’s a big part of it. Hell, it IS a big part of it. That, and Jenny walked away from her gig for me. I should do the same for her. But first we gotta wrap up this Unit 8.” “You didn’t hear it from me, but Marty’s calling in some old favors. We need more intel, and it’s the only way he can get it.” Rico was sitting at the conference table when they walked in, talking over the contents of a file with Mindy. “We just got the work-up on that Sissy, but I expect Trudy told you that.” “Yeah, partner. For now we treat her as a spotter for Unit 8 and assume they know we’re in contact with Carrera.” “And there might be more to that.” Stan came out of the Tech Room, a frown on his face. “Lester and I were going back through the tapes from the night Dave was shot, and some moron on Metro-Dade put out a call about a Task Force man down. With emphasis on Task Force. Only a moron would mistake it for anything other than a unit name.” “And you can bet Unit 8 picked that up.” Stan nodded. “If they’re half as good as we hear they are, they could have heard it with a kid’s walkie talkie.” Then his frown turned to a grin. “But you’re gonna love what Lester and I cooked up.” “How’s that?” Sonny sat down with a cup of coffee, waiting for the explanation. “Remember those fake tapes we did for Menton? Well, we can use that trick again. Make it should like there are more of us than we are. Try to draw them out so we can get a look at who we’re up against. And maybe get them spreading their resources all over hell and back while we drill through to where they live.” He chuckled. “We’ve got some beauties cooked up, and more to come.” “Make as many as you can.” Castillo appeared at the head of the table. “I hope to have more intel on at least the officers of Unit 8 by the end of the day.” Rico chuckled. “Call in more favors?” “Yes.” The clipped answer told Sonny not to ask further. “But not all. We may need more before this is done.” Mindy shook her head. “Why can’t we just ask them officially?” Castillo smiled, and Sonny understood. She hadn’t been with them long enough to know. “This is something the Company won’t admit to knowing about, let alone helped with. Most of the people I talk to are out of that business now, sometimes for years. But they still have their files and their memories. And some of them are disgusted by what was done in this country’s name. Sometimes it’s that disgust that leads them to help me. Not all of them were, or are, my friends.” Randy walked over to pour another cup of coffee. “If Dave was here he’d start a rant about the FBI, and he wouldn’t be far wrong. Those alphabet agencies, it’s all about protecting their asses and their reputations. Don’t matter who gets hurt in the process so long’s the good name of the Outfit is intact.” Sonny looked Castillo in the eye. “You think this guy will help?” “I should know soon enough. I left the mark in the usual spot.” Castillo’s smile was thin. “He’s traditional.” “Is there any way to push Carrera? Speed it up a bit?” Sonny shook his head. “No, Mindy. Not really. Not without looking like cops. These guys like to take their time when they can, but I think he’ll move fast enough. Unit 8 scares him, but so does Burnett. And in the end he’s like the rest of ‘em. Greedy to a fault.” Rico nodded. “But we can use today to plan. Maybe see if we can get into the heads of these cats a bit.” “Yeah.” Sonny looked at the map. “If they were trained by spooks, they’ll go to ground in safe houses. Someplace they won’t attract much notice, but at the same time is safe enough they don’t have to worry about getting into it with the local gang bangers. That pretty much rules out Overton.” “And quite a bit of Little Haiti. But at the same time they can’t hide out in the ‘burbs. Wrong color for that crowd. They’d be calling Immigration or trying to hire them to cut their grass and clean their pools.” Rico gave a disgusted snort. “Lie-styles of the rich and shameless right there.” Castillo spoke from the head of the table. “They’ll look for apartments. Maybe student places. Areas where younger men living together won’t draw attention. They’ll try to keep units together. Clusters of three or four. They might own the buildings outright through shell companies like Menton did.” Sonny nodded. “That’s how I’d do it if I had the time to plan a move this big. They’ve got the resources for sure. Hell, they might had some of the cartels sign stuff over to them or be using their properties instead of collecting the tax. You can get creative when you’re in the position this Unit 8 is.” “So how do we crack them?” Frustration was plain in Mindy’s voice. “Same way they’re trying to pin us down. Get a fix on one of their guys and let them lead you to the rest.” Randy shook his head. “Ain’t no one been trying to follow me.” “They won’t. They don’t know that we know about them. Ten to one they’ve got at least one or two guys watching the hospital, but they won’t tip their hand yet. Not while they can go through newspapers and listen to morons on patrol sending out radio calls.” Rico looked around the table. “How much time do you think we have?” “As much as they’ll give us. But if they decide to send another message the clock will be ticking. Homicide’s still got their pants around their ankles because of the first message, and they’ll be wanting to share the pain if anything else goes down.” “You’re certain they have no real security?” Hidalgo nodded. “Si, sir. A bouncer and a camera that may or may not be hooked up to anything. I think they count on their patrons to keep order.” Salazar smiled. “And how well does that work?” “For street gangs? Fairly well I would think. Los Tech 9s have some kind of local reputation. But against El Unidad? They are less than nothing.” “You say there is a front and back door?” “Yes. The back door opens onto an alley clogged with trash and broken dumpsters. Anyone fleeing there would be an easy target. The front door is narrow, and like most bars in the area the front window has been boarded up. There’s a small back room and a cooler for the cervesas and other drinks. The building has a second floor, but I didn’t see any way to it from inside the bar. There is a stairwell outside, though. And mailboxes.” “Collateral damage?” “The door up was padlocked and gated from the outside. I don’t think anyone lives up there. And if they do…they are not the kind of collateral damage anyone notices.” “Good work, corporal. The lieutenant will be here soon, so you’d best leave.” He paused. “How was his conduct?” “Good, sir. He kept a low profile and didn’t accompany me into the bar. I can pass as a local, while he still has difficulty.” Salazar nodded, waiting until Hidalgo left to let out a long sigh. The corporal hadn’t spelled out his plan because it was the obvious, and only, one: block the back, go in the front, single out Los Tech 9s, and cut them down. Simple yet difficult in some ways. He was curious to see how Orozco framed the situation. The lieutenant came in exactly on time, his hair combed into place and secured with too much hair spray. Still, he showed the proper respect, remaining standing until Salazar waved him to a chair. “Your report, lieutenant?” “I’m sure you already know the particulars of the physical layout. I saw no real security, and blocking escape through the back door should only take one or two men. The rest of my team and myself will go through the front door. One of my men slipped in after Corporal Hidalgo left and remained for almost an hour. I have a sketch map of the bar, the area around the door to the cooler and the back room, and some conversation indicating Los Tech 9s don’t usually come in until after 2100 and stay until closing. Usually anywhere from four to six of them, and my man heard the bartender complain that everyone else leaves within an hour of their arrival.” “Good work, Victor.” Salazar almost smiled at the irony of the lieutenant having the same first name as the man they’d assassinated as a message. “So what is your plan for the operation?” “I have my full team on hand, so six shooters and myself. Two will watch the back door and be near the vehicles for our escape, leaving five of us to secure the bar. I want to go in around 2300 hours, but I will have a team in position to watch the bar around 2000. They can let us know when Los Tech 9s arrive, their strength, and when the others leave. I assume we are to minimize collateral damage, so I’m planning accordingly.” “And the message?” “We don’t have time for anything fancy, so I will ensure there are as many Los Tech 9 bodies as possible with eight bullets in each of them. My team will use the MP-5SDs, so we’ll have both the firepower and stealth necessary for mission success. Once the message is delivered, we’ll exfiltrate the area and scatter before returning to safe houses. We will also wear masks and gloves, and I don’t plan on anyone speaking.” “I approve. When do you execute?” “Tonight if possible, tomorrow if not. My men are rested and ready, and I’d only abort if Los Tech 9s don’t show. With your approval, of course.” Salazar nodded. It was a thin plan, but it should work as a first outing. It would also be a fine show of El Unidad’s strength and capability, one the local gangsters should understand. “Execute the plan, lieutenant.” Once Orozco left, all smiles and platitudes, Salazar sat for a time with his thoughts. It was moving quicker than he’d like, but it was something that needed doing. And it might impress on the colonel that he could move with haste as well as deliberation. But the question of this Task Force also hung heavy in the back of his mind. Sergeant Velendez should be making his first report soon. He’d be curious to see what treasures the bright young NCO had unearthed in the library. It always amazed him how much information one could find openly if one knew where to look. Martin Castillo’s phone rang partway through the afternoon, forwarded by Stan’s magic from the number he’d originally given Kiki. Of course that wasn’t the man’s real name. Castillo wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man’s real name. But Kiki had been with the Company for almost thirty years when he finally walked away. As a Latin American specialist, if anyone knew about Unit 8 it would be Kiki. “I was wondering when you’d call in that favor, Martin.” The man’s voice was old and tired, a far cry from the exuberance he remembered. But that many years with that much dirt had a way of breaking a man. “I wasn’t planning on it, Kiki. But events leave me no choice.” “This about those heads?” The chuckle echoed dryly over the phone. “I saw that on the news. Nasty piece of work, but familiar. Like one of them dreams you can’t remember but can’t forget, either.” “We think it was the work of a group called Unit 8.” “I heard of them. Peru, isn’t it?” “Was. I heard they started out on their own.” “Being declared war criminals does that do some fellers. Not that they ain’t war criminals, mind. But it’s never an easy pill to take when you’ve been telling yourself you’ve been following orders for years.” The bitterness in Kiki’s voice was almost a physical thing. “They will not come to Miami.” “Marty, they’re already here. That’s what the heads are about.” “They will…” “I heard you the first time. And I know that tone in your voice. Ain’t no way to shift your gears.” The older man sighed. “I can tell you I didn’t train ‘em. Wrote some strong memos opposing that training. Not that it mattered. What do you need?” “As much as you can give me about the men involved. Especially the officers. They’ve gone into business for themselves, but the men don’t really change. Their habits. Fears.” “I might have some stuff. But we do this, we’re even. Understand?” “Of course.” “We don’t meet, either. Can’t be sure who’s following either of us. You and me got enemies, Marty, though I hear you finally planted that scumbag Menton six feet under. About damend time if you ask me. Anyhow, I’ll leave a drop mark at the same place. Let you know where to pick up the goods.” There was a pause. “Take care, Marty. These are some seriously bad assholes. But judging from the trail you’ve been leaving you’ve got some bad assholes of your own. But don’t underestimate Unidad Ocho. They got the best training Bragg and Quantico had to offer.” “You think the Company…” “Hell, no. They want these guys gone, too. You ain’t the only one who reached out. In fact, they might lend a hand if you need it. But only deal with Hendricks. He’s still seeing straight.” There was a click, and the line went dead. Castillo hung up with a thin smile. He remembered Kiki going back before Vietnam and then after. Shadow-shrouded missions to the island of his birth and other places nearby. The man was a legend, in enough demand he’d avoided Vietnam completely. Kiki was too essential to running operations against Cuba and later Nicaragua and even South America. Stan stuck his head in the office. “You want a trace, captain?” “No. Clear it, please.” “You got it.” Stan paused. “Are we gonna take these guys down for real?” “Yes.” Once Stan left, he turned his chair and looked out the window at the dark clouds hanging in the air. All I can do is hope they sit still long enough for us to act. If they don’t, the politicians will start getting involved and it might be out of our hands. He wondered how long it would take Kiki to assemble his files. Not long, probably. It sounded like he was expecting me to reach out. Sonny’s voice broke into his thoughts. “That the call you were waiting for, Marty?” “Yes. If anyone has information on the officers in Unit 8, it will be him.” “Old spook?” “One of the best. I suspect he still is.” Sonny sat down. “We gotta draw these guys out. At least some of them so we can get a fix on the rest. I also think it might be time to put Cooper on ice for a bit.” “You want to work without Tubbs?” “No. Nothing that crazy. But he’s got this old cover from New York he hasn’t used down here at all. Marcus Jefferson. He’s backstopped as a wheelman, and I can work him in as Burnett’s northern contact man with no trouble at all. It won’t work for Carrera since he’s seen Cooper, but it might give us a good in with the Unit 8 guys. They might shoot a buyer, but they’d think twice about another transportation guy. Especially if he gave them entry to a new market.” “Go with it. Let Trudy or Mindy know if Marcus needs his backstop updated. I don’t think Unit 8 is able to check that kind of thing, but I also won’t underestimate them.” He looked out the window. “With their money and connections it’s not inconceivable that they have a source in the DEA.” “You think so?” “Anything’s possible. As you know.” Castillo didn’t shy away from mentioning Scotty Wheeler. It kept them sharp to remember their mistakes. “Yeah. Scotty. And Calderone got him cheap.” “But it’s more likely their source is local. Someone DEA has stationed in Columbia or maybe Peru or Bolivia. And they wouldn’t have heard of the Task Force.” Nodding, Sonny sat back in his chair. “You ever think you’ve done enough.” “Yes. Then I remember…” He stopped, not wanting to bring his Laos team into his mind just yet. “Then I remember there’s more to do.” “Yeah. But maybe once this is over it’s time to walk away. I never thought I’d say that, but now that I’m with Jenny…” “You have things to lose. I understand. I feel that way now, too.” Castillo pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. “But that’s a discussion for later. Once we’ve finished Unit 8. Maybe at The Sanctuary with Robbie. He knows quite a bit about walking away to better things.” “Yeah, he does.” Sonny smiled and got to his feet. “I’ll get them working on planning for the second meet with Carrera. I want to be ready when that damned phone rings.” Victor Orozco looked at his assembled team and smiled. He knew them all, had fought with them in high mountains, jungles, and the concrete sprawl of city slums. And, just as important, they knew him. Packed in the back of an old slab-sided van, they waited for the go signal. He pulled on his ski mask, annoyed it would ruin his hair, and worked the bolt on his silenced sub-machine gun. The MP-5SD left something to be desired in terms of durability, but it was accurate and quiet. Qualities he needed for this mission. The corporal watched him and nodded, and the rest of the team mimicked his moves. Smiling under the mask, he leaned forward so the man in the driver’s seat could hear him. “Any word?” “No, sir. Nothing since the scum went in.” He motioned toward the small radio on the passenger seat. “But they’ll let us know as soon as the others leave.” “Of course.” If they were anyplace else, he’d go in now and not give two shits about collateral damage. As far as he was concerned it made the message more effective. But he knew he had to obey orders. And there was a small corner of his mind that was still trying to come to terms with El Notre. What kind of place was it where you couldn’t buy off the corner cop with a small stack of bills? While he might not have liked it, he understood the operational necessity. Minutes passed, and then the radio hissed. The driver held it to his head and nodded. “We have the signal.” Orozco nodded, crossing himself more for show than belief. He knew it made one or two of the men happy. “Flaco, take the back door. Silence anyone who comes through. The rest of you, with me as soon as we’re in position.” He slapped the driver on the shoulder. “Go.” The air inside the bar was thick with cigarette smoke and an overload of cologne. Orozco was first through the door, taking five steps in so his men could fan to the left and right. It wasn’t perfect tactics, but for a message it had the desired impact. The four men at the bar stopped talking when they saw the bartender duck, and they turned almost as one. “Ocho brings its compliments. You disrespected us by ignoring out message.” Orozco shook his head. “That just won’t do.” “And who the hell are you, you little faggot? Coming into our bar with your…” Orozco nodded, and the man on his left and the one on his right opened fire, their MP-5SDs filling the air with muted thumps as spent casings arced through the bad air. Two of the Columbians crumpled like crushed cans, their blood mingling on the dirty floor. Eight bullet holes decorated their chests. “Now you see the price that comes from disrespect. Perhaps others can learn from your mistakes.” He lowered his own weapon and put eight rounds into the chest of the one who’d spoken, knowing the corporal next to him had done the same to the last man. Orozco watched the smoke trickling from the silencers of their weapons. Then he called out, “Stand! Ocho has no quarrel with you! But let others know this is what happens to those who do not respect their obligations. Eight bullets for each man. Or eight heads. Or eight family members. You will learn respect for Ocho.” Turning, not caring if the man stood or just huddled on the floor pissing himself, he gave the signal to depart. His team returned to the van as quietly as they’d come, and in seconds had been swallowed up by darkness. Stan Switek spotting the flashing red lights well before he turned the corner and entered the circle of squad cars. He frowned when he saw the bar’s name proclaimed in a rough neon scrawl. “The Rooster? Shit.” Lester Franz chuckled. “Ya can’t expect miracles, partner.” “Yeah, but I can wonder why the hell we got called down.” “Castillo sent us just in case this is tied into that Unit 8 thing, I’ll bet. Or maybe Baker’s just lonely.” Leaning over the door, he flashed his badge to the patrolman on perimeter duty. “Sergeant Franz. What’s the score?” “Four bodies, sergeant. Shot a bunch of times.” The kid’s eyes were wide. “A bartender that both pissed and shit himself. And a Homicide guy who’s looking like his career flashed before his eyes.” He swallowed and grinned. “But you didn’t hear that from me.” “Course we didn’t. Not a word.” Lester smiled and turned to Stan. “Sounds like a gang war.” “Maybe. But that don’t explain the call.” Stan parked the Ford they’d drawn from the ones in the basement garage between a squad car and an ambulance. Better to look like just another unmarked than something special if anyone happened to be watching. Baker appeared out of the shadows by the bar, a cigarette glowing in his mouth. “Got one for you guys.” “Since when are we on gangs, Baker?” “None of us are, Switek.” He turned and started for the door, sending his words back to them. “These guys were shot eight times each. Center chest groups. And the bartender keeps whimpering about it being a message from Ocho, whatever the hell that means. It was the eight that got my attention.” Stan grabbed Baker’s shoulder. “Those were his exact words?” “Yeah. He’s over in the ambulance high as a kite from whatever the docs gave him to calm him down.” Lester turned away. “I’ll go talk to him. You check out the scene.” “Thanks loads, partner,” Stan muttered as he kept following Baker. “And I got pulled out of my nice soft bed with Gina for this. How many vics are there?” “Four. And we think from the casings at least that many shooters. Your partner might get more from the bartender. When I got here he was blubbering and still trying to piss himself.” The open door had cleared the air a bit, but the thick stench of voided bowels and blood still rammed itself up Stan’s nose as soon as he stepped inside. Flashes popped as the crime scene gnomes clicked away, but he could see the four bodies lined up in front of the bar plain enough. Baker’s voice cut through the crime scene babble. “I think they were at the bar. Our shooters come in, tell ‘em to turn around. Maybe there was some talk and maybe not. But all the dead guys are Los Tech 9s. Tatted full members. I’ve got a call in to Gangs to see if they have anything on beefs or feuds.” “Have them see if anyone has tried to tax Los Tech 9s lately. And if the Tech 9 morons said no.” Stan stepped around one of the photographers, looking at the wound pattern on one of the bodies. “That’s some serious shooting. Almost cover the group with your palm.” “That was the other reason I called your captain.” Baker leaned closer. “There’s gonna be some fur flying over this one.” “Yeah. Tell me about it.” Stan felt for the guy. It sucked having dead bodies pile up, and even more when there was politics involved. “Look, I can’t tell you much, but the shooters are some nasty dudes. If you get a whiff, call the captain or Crockett and Tubbs and let us know. And don’t go near them without a full SWAT team.” “Thanks for the tip.” Baker looked down at the bodies. “These were some rough dudes. Whoever lit them up must have surprised them. Or scared them enough they didn’t want to move.” “Or both. Who called it in?” “The bartender. Sort of. He was blubbering into the phone when we got here.” “So automatic weapons and no one calls it in?” Stan looked at the piles of expended casings. “9mm. I’ll bet they used silencers.” “Street punks with silencers?” “That’s what I’m saying, Baker. These aren’t street punks.” Stan looked around, letting a picture form in his mind. “They ain’t anything like street punks.” “Your boys after them?” “Might be. You know how it is, man.” “You got any info you can share?” Stan saw the desperation in Baker’s eyes and motioned him away from the crime scene techs. “The shooters are ex-military. South American military. That’s really all I can say without getting myself or Lester in a jam. But they’re trained and ruthless. Trust me when I say you wanna give these guys a pass.” “After seeing this and that damned boat I agree. You boys are welcome to ‘em, and I’ll let you know if we turn up anything. But that boat’s been a dead end in more ways that one. It belonged to one of the guys who had his head in the front seat, and we’ve dug up one or two more names. But they’re all small time. No more than a handful of drug deals between them.” “They were a message. A way these dudes let people know they’re in town.” “Shit.” Baker let the lone word hiss between his lips. “And this?” “Another message.” “We’ll get the files to you guys as soon as we have the bodies IDd. I’ve got an idea who one of ‘em is, but we’ll send over the whole package.” “Thanks, man.” Stan shook the Homicide detective’s hand. “No problem.” Baker looked over toward the ambulance and chuckled. “You let Lester carry now?” “Yeah. He’s a damned good shot, too. We aren’t lab rats anymore, Baker.” The other cop looked Stan up and down and nodded. “No, no you aren’t, Stan. Not by a long shot. Now if you’ll excuse me I gotta get back to stickin’ my hands in the pockets of dead guys. Poke around as long as you need to.” Stan nodded, a warm feeling shooting down his spine as he thought back to the compliment. Not too long back Baker would have just mocked him. But not now. And Lester was somebody, too. He knew there was no way he could ever go back to Metro-Dade. Lester turned away from the ambulance, his face going alternate shades of red and white as the lights rotated. “That guy’s useless. All I got out of him was guys in masks did it. Maybe six. And only one talked.” “And let me guess…the camera’s just for decoration.” “I didn’t bother to check. Didn’t seem worth it with the cable just hanging down like that. And if it worked, our boys would have shot it out and pulled the tape.” “Or just not cared if we found it or not. All we’d see is guys in masks gunning down other guys.” Stan looked at his watch and yawned. “I don’t know about you, but I doubt I’m gettin’ back to sleep. Wanna grab some breakfast and head back to the office? Baker’s gonna get us the files as soon as they have IDs on the vics.” Stan was hauling the last piece of bacon out of his styrofoam “to-go” container when Martin and Trudy Castillo came in. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, and he and Lester were on their third cups of coffee. “It was them, captain,” Stan said, filling Castillo in as he smiled a greeting to Trudy. “No question. Eight bullets in each vic. Baker thinks the bosses are gonna get involved.” “They will. And it will do no good.” Castillo’s eyes were dark and cold. “I’m calling the chief deputy in the next hour or so. He needs to be brought up to speed.” It was then Stan noticed the canvas bag in Castillo’s hand. “There will be a full intelligence briefing this afternoon. Let the others know when they get in.” Lester waited until Castillo’s office door shut. “What do we do ‘till then?” “Work on more diversion plans. What else? I want these asshole so confused they won’t know if their own mom’s calling them in for supper. That and I want to comb back through the tapes from the night Dave was shot. We got traffic from them. I want to see if I can make out anything from it. And keep listening in on that frequency. They used it once, they’ll likely go back to it. I don’t think they know we’re hunting them.”

“And you’re sure you weren’t followed?” Sonny looked at Castillo. “Yeah. As much as I can be.” “I was checking our six the whole way back, captain. If they were following us they were using a box…cars in front and in back.” Castillo nodded, not looking up. “Stay on it. Meet with Carrera again. We need to keep Burnett in view long enough for them to make a move of some kind.” Sonny nodded. He knew the score. “Yeah. I don’t think they’ll move until they’re sure about what I’m up to. And we have no way of knowing if that guy was Unit 8, Carrera’s guy, or competition keeping an eye on Carrera. He’s got his share of enemies.” “We assume it’s Unit 8 regardless. I want no mistakes on this one.” Stan had been silent at the far end of the table. Now he spoke up. “You want me to start running passive sweeps in the background on these operations, captain? Parking the Roach Coach and just listening in to see who’s talking out there.” “Yes. I should have done that tonight. How close to you need to be for that to work?” “Depends on their gear, but anywhere out to about a mile. Less if there’s TV or radio broadcasts close by.” “Good. I want you to roll with backup, though. At least Sergeant Franz and maybe Deputy Mather if he’s available. Keep a low profile.” Sonny was only half-listening. His mind kept playing back to the inside of the Overton. Trying to fit pieces together. Little slivers of memory that kept dancing just out of reach. “Trudy? Can you run a street girl? Goes by the name Sissy. Something about that whole act didn’t feel right to me.” Trudy got up from the table. “You got it. Anything else about her?” “Skinny. Pale with blonde hair that came from a bottle. I think the original color was dark brown based on her eyebrows. And she had dark brown eyes. I’d say no more than five four and maybe a buck thirty.” “You think she’s working with Unit 8?” “No, Rico. I can’t see them bringing a woman in. They’d be too damned macho. But he said she was Pancho’s favorite. I want to see if that’s true. And if she’s tied to someone else…” “She might have been a plant and tipped someone off about Burnett and Cooper wanting to deal.” “Jo got it, meng.” He looked at the map. “And that’s something Unit 8 could have picked up.” “How do you figure?” “If they were watching Carrera and she took off and made a call or something, they’d figure that out fast. And some of their boys got a good look at us when they took out Victor.” Castillo’s voice cut in. “Do you believe what Carrera said about Pancho?” “Yeah. I do. They’d move in the same circles, more than the bartender at Bomber’s would. And that bit he said about the girl rang true.” Sonny scratched the stubble on his chin. “I wonder who they slipped in posing as Pancho?” “And how many more are coming in now?” Rico shook his head. “A bunch like this is gonna have first-rate papers. And we trained them to slip through security. At least I’ll bet the Company gave them a crash course.” “Everyone needs to be on high alert from here on out.” Castillo’s voice was sharp. “These men are trained and ruthless. Crockett won’t be their only target. And Deputy Mather? No one is to visit Deputy Blair except you. We need to limit our exposure. If they are as precise as I think they are there’s a good chance they have already determined which hospital he’s in.” Randy nodded. “Do you think Debbie’s in any danger?” “She could be. Have her discontinue visits until further notice. It would have taken them time to locate him and get into position, but once they’re in place I think they’ll keep someone there until we neutralize them.” Randy got up from the table. “I’ll call and let her know. We’ve got a clean connection to The Sanctuary.” Rico shook his head. “I don’t dig being hunted, captain. We need to be hunting them.” “We are. But in a different way.” “What he means, Rico, is we’re hunting them like those old Brits hunted tigers in India. And I’m the tethered goat.” Sonny grinned. “Everyone go home and get some sleep. We start fresh in the morning.” Castillo looked up, his dark eyes blazing. “We need more information on these men. And then we need to start taking them down.” “Jefe, the captain is on the line now.” Delacruz nodded and hit the button. He hated the secure lines. They hissed and popped even more than normal international calls, but he understood the necessity. “Report, captain.” Salazar’s voice came through weak and drawn out, like he was speaking at the other end of a long tunnel. “We are making progress, sir. You were correct in assuming there was some kind of special unit operating in Miami. We have wounded one man we believe is a member, and I have the hospital he’s in under surveillance.” “Good work, Salazar. Do we know the identity of these men?” “Not directly. But I have a tentative profile completed. We monitored radio communication just after the removal of Victor referring to the Task Force. Not a task force, but a specific entity called the Task Force. I reviewed the tapes myself to verify this.” Delacruz nodded even though Salazar couldn’t see him. “And with the Americans that means more than one agency is involved.” “That was my assumption as well, sir. One of them would have to be local, so I have one of my men going through open source intel to see if we can determine which part of the Metro-Dade police force contributed personnel. My thought is some of the men might be high ranking, and their move would appear somehow.” “Worth a look. Do you know what other agencies are involved?” There was a pause. “We already had that information, sir. In the interrogation of that Pancho puta by Sergeant Major Pascal.” “He gave us nothing.” “It took some time, sir, but he did. In his own way. He was raised in El Notre, so he has their memories. When I was reading the report, I remembered something I saw on television in Virginia while I was waiting for training. An older show in black and white. The main character was United States Marshal Matt Dillon. I believe he was telling us the second agency was the Marshal’s Service.” Delacruz thought for a moment. “Explain.” “That agency has wide powers, but one of their specialties is locating and apprehending dangerous fugitives. High risk warrants I think they call it. I saw one of their teams drilling when I was at training in Virginia. They are very good. And finding people is what they do. It would be a simple task for them to locate Moncado or some of the others they are said to have taken down.” “Can this be verified?” “I have people working open source, and we continue to monitor the radios. But this unit is careful. Unlike some other American agencies, the Marshal’s Service does not seem hungry for attention. Our local contacts say their jefe in Miami is one who will bend or ignore rules to get the job done.” “Good work, captain. Do you have more to report?” “Lieutenant Orozco and most of his men are on the ground.” There was a pause, and he could hear the line hiss and pop in the silence. “Sir, I’m not sure if Orozco is the best choice for this situation.” “He needs to learn, Eduardo. And you are the best one to teach him. His men will be of use in the coming weeks. There are messages yet to be delivered.” He heard the man sigh. “Of course, sir. And I think we have located our first local target. His name is Burnett.” “That name is familiar.” “He was the one who took over the Manolo organization and almost opened direct trade with Mexico before one of his men turned on him. It seems he took from that the lesson that he should stick to transportation. He is one of the best in the area, but our local sources tell us he won’t deal with anything at the source. He picks up offshore and then moves it through South Florida. But he’s very good and very ruthless.” There was pause. “Eliminating him would destroy one of the few functional networks in the area capable of moving large amounts of product. It’s also said he has good relations with a major buyer from New York.” “What do you propose we do with him?” “By all accounts he’s a businessman. If we make his business uncomfortable and then approach with a solution, he should be willing to deal. I’ll know more once we’ve completed the intelligence workup on him.” There was a note of apology in his voice. “We weren’t aware of his presence until the operation with Victor.” “If he operates strictly in El Notre there’s no reason you should have been aware of him, captain. An oversight on my part. I should have expanded our preparations to include men like him.” Rodrigo paused. “We will be shifting command to a jump headquarters in the next day or two. I need to be closer to Miami so I can respond quicker to requests for support. This is a key move for us and it requires our full attention.” They spoke for a few minutes longer and then he ended the call. The presence of this Burnett was a complication, but he had faith in Salazar’s ability to handle it. The man always looked ahead, seeing future value in things others might just deem an obstacle. Orozco, for instance, would have tried to kill Burnett by now. And likely failed. And it was starting to come back to him. He’d heard of the Manolo organization, what they’d call a cartel now, back when he was still officially with the army. It had been one of the cases they’d studied in training as an example of how a criminal organization could grow unchecked if left alone too long. He’d always assumed Burnett had been collateral damage when the organization crumbled, but it seemed the assumption was incorrect. Still, it didn’t change the basic plan. Those who knew of Ocho were paying their dues now, regular as clockwork. He’d seen the reports from Salazar’s logistics team. But it was still time to move. He hit another button. “Sergeant Major. Report on the jump headquarters.” Gordo’s voice echoed back. “Colonel. It sounds like you’re right behind me. We will be ready to move in another twenty four hours. No more. The delay comes with the communications equipment.” “Let them do their job, sergeant major. Comms are important. It must be done right and not hurried.” “Se, jefe. I know. They tell me they will be done within that time.” Rodrigo nodded, making a note to speak with the communications sergeant later. Gordo had a bad habit of telling him what he wanted to hear and then doing something different, especially when it came to the men. And comms was something that could not be hurried, not if it was to work correctly. And he needed to stay in touch with the men remaining behind. Looking out the window, he made a quick mental inventory of his resources. Salazar would have about twenty men once the rest of Orozco’s team was on the ground, but at least five of them were support personnel. He might need a few more to complete his mission. The jump HQ would soak up another thirty, maybe more if he wanted to hold men ready as reserves for Miami. Better make it fifty, then. Close to one hundred members of Unidad Ocho committed to the El Notre operation. About one fifth of his total strength, not counting the associated surrogates and hired help. Still, he worried he wasn’t committing enough resources to the Miami operation. Especially with the news Salazar had delivered about this Task Force. He was glad his intuition had been confirmed, but he also didn’t want to be caught underestimating an opponent. Maybe another team to the jump HQ would settle his fears, but he also needed to know how many men that location could support. Their network in Miami was at capacity, so sending more there wasn’t an option. But that was a puzzle for tomorrow. Right now there was a producer over in Columbia who was proving reluctant to kick in his tax. Such things could not be tolerated. Hitting another button, he waited for the officer to answer the tone. “Lieutenant. Some up, please. I want to discuss the Bilago situation. It must be resolved before I move to the jump headquarters.” Martin Castillo sensed Trudy come out onto the deck, but he didn’t move. Just kept looking out at the shimmering water just visible in the fading light. He knew sooner or later he’d have to make the call, but hoped it would be later. Touching his past always made Castillo nervous. He felt her strong fingers on his shoulder. “What’s bothering you?” “I’ll have to call them soon.” “Who?” “The Company. I can’t see any way around it. Besides, they had a hand in creating these monsters. It’s only right they should help sweep up.” “What do you think they can add?” “Information at least. They helped train these men. They’ll have files on them, even if they won’t admit it. We need to know who we’re dealing with.” She nodded, a slow movement of her head. “But does the information go both ways?” “I don’t know.” His gaze shifted from the water to the dying sun sinking below the horizon. “It’s always a question with them. I doubt if they’re officially in contact with Unit 8, but there’s always someone with their own agenda who might be.” “And that would tip Unit 8 off that we’re onto them.” He felt his lips twitch into a smile. “You learn fast, my love.” Her arms slid around him. “I have a good teacher.” “I might know someone I can call. He’s been out for a few years, but still has access. There would be no comebacks with him.” “Do you think he’d help?” “Maybe. He was in for a long time. Maybe too long. He sees plots everywhere. Only uses pay phones.” He smiled at a memory from his training. “To contact him I have to leave a chalk mark outside a specific Cuban restaurant in Little Havana. Then he calls my number.” The smile vanished. “But depending on what we learn I may have to reach out anyhow.” “Why?” “We don’t know how big this Unit 8 is. If they’re large, we don’t have enough people. And Chief Deputy Washington can’t spare more than one warrant team. I know who I’d need, but it would take the Company to get them.” He thought back to the tape they’d gotten with Maynard killing the last members of the Calderone family and the man who’d made that happen. Moneybags and his team would even the odds considerably. But that was a problem for later. Right now their problem was a lack of solid intelligence. “I talked to Randy earlier. He said Dave’s getting better. He also said Debbie understands about not seeing him. She’s not happy, but she understands.” “It’s for her own protection. Nothing is off limits for Unit 8.” “I know. I read the files.” He felt her shudder. “How can men be so cruel?” “Training. Some might call it programming, but it’s all training. If you see your enemies as less than human it’s easier.” He shook his head, thinking back to the child-soldiers he’d seen coming out of Cambodia when he was still posted in Thailand. The emptiness of their eyes matched only by their hollow souls. “Once the programming begins it’s hard to undo. And harder to stop.” “You think the CIA did this?” “They may have provided the tools. But the decision was likely made by men in Peru of higher rank than this Delacruz. Men who never dirty their hands often make those decisions. Then they can deny knowledge when it goes wrong.” He listened to the waves for a moment. “Because it always goes wrong.” “What do you think made them turn?” “They did their government’s dirty work, and then the government declared them criminals. That might have been the start, and it might be what some of them still tell themselves. But the money is always a factor, and there are likely more than a few men in Unit 8 who enjoy the work.” “And this colonel?” Castillo looked out at the horizon and the growing number of glinting stars. “He likely feels betrayed by his commanders. He might look at what they’re doing as providing for his men, giving them the rewards they earned and were denied by their government. And if they were supposed to be involved in that Bolivian coup he might be making up for lost time now. Trying to increase earnings to offset that loss.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I just want to know enough about him to get Crockett in his head.” “Do you think Sonny can outplan them?” “Not alone. But he gives us an edge. One they won’t expect from a police agency.” She came around and looked him in the eye, and he could see worry in her deep brown eyes. “What do we do when this is over, Marty? If we have to go as far as you think we might…” “If we break Unit 8, anything we do in the process will be forgiven. I’ve been around long enough to know that. And if we fail…it won’t matter.” He took her in his arms. “But it’s a fair question, my love. What do you want us to do?” “We’ve both been shot. I still wake up some nights seeing you bleeding in Moncado’s courtyard. Do you ever think we’re pushing our luck?” “I think we make our own luck by being good. But everyone gets tired. Wears down. If we can break Unit 8, maybe it’s time to let someone else carry the load. Smashing a threat like this will buy agencies some time. Maybe that’s the best we can do. And if we succeed, the Marshal’s Service is almost guaranteed to promote Chief Deputy Washington.” He smiled in the growing darkness. “I’m too old to start over with a new boss.” She giggled, and he was happy to have brought a smile to her face even though he couldn’t see it. But deep down he felt the truth in the words. He was too old to start over with someone new. He’d taken the Task Force assignment to make a difference, something he’d been trying to do ever since he left the DEA and came to Metro-Dade. And he felt like he had. The unit had broken more major cases in the short time they’d existed than any four units had in three times as long…and more than he’d ever been able to managed with OCB. But one of their successes might have created the hole letting Unit 8 into Miami, and he he could slam that hole shut he couldn’t think of a better moment to go. Holding his wife, just enjoying the smell of her hair and the feel of her body against his, he knew the choice was already made in his heart. And that was what mattered. “Now that my team is assembled I think it’s time we taught these peasants another lesson about the perils of ignoring El Unidad.” Captain Salazar sighed. “And what would you suggest, lieutenant? Based no doubt on your extensive experience in El Notre.” The younger man winced but drove on. “I admit I don’t have the time in the US that you and some of the others do, but maybe that’s an advantage. I see possibilities where you might see something else.” Salazar nodded. It was a fair, if inaccurate, point. “And what are these possibilities you see?” “We must make the local traffickers fear us like those who have been south do.” “Of course. But they must also have the chance to pay their tax first. Since we executed Victor many have. Those pig Dominicas for starters.” “Yes, sir. But you complained about the Columbians being slow. Not knowing their place. Allow me to take my team and teach them their place.” Salazar nodded. He had complained about the group calling itself Los Tech 9s. A bunch of overgrown kids using their own product and thinking they were one step below Escobar himself. Maybe they had missed the part where Escobar was gunned down. From what he understood they were the cast-offs of another gang who’d used the name before them. So scum from scum. And they had failed to show the proper respect. “Let me show you I can do this, sir. And within the operational limits.” He let the thought turn itself around in his head. Much as he hated to admit it Orozco was making sense. And the Columbians should know their place. At least half of them had heard of Ocho before. And still they thumb their noses. “Sketch your plan for me. And within the limits.” Orozco’s smile was almost as annoying as his voice. “Of course, sir. We know where these putas like to drink. Where they buy their women. There’s a bar down on the edge of the district called Little Haiti where they go most nights. My team can get there near closing time, block the place off, and deal with them. We wear masks, like the days in the villages.” “But you only silence those from Los Tech 9s. No one else.” “Of course, sir. They’re easy to spot because of those foolish tattoos they’re so proud of.” “Go with one of Corporal Hidalgo’s men and scout the location first. I want a proper operations plan. Do you know the response time of this Metro-Dade police force?” “Sir…” “In that part of the city it is ten minutes…twenty at the most if there are shots fired. Your plan should be designed to be finished within ten minutes, including the exfiltration. We’re on a clock in this city, lieutenant, which means our goals may need to be adjusted from time to time. You will have suppressors, but that will only buy you so much time.” Orozco’s jaw set in a firm line. “Of course, sir. You’ll have my plan by this time tomorrow.” Once the man left, Salazar let his anger drain in a long sigh. It wasn’t the younger man’s fault he didn’t know the Metro-Dade response time, but it was his fault that he did not ask. The operation was a risk, but he could count on the number of enemies Los Tech 9s had managed to make to provide cover. Especially since there wouldn’t be enough time for extensive messaging like severing heads. Maybe they’d get eight of them and maybe not. But he could count on Orozco’s team to shoot each body eight times. It was as high as most of them could count. And perhaps the message could carry over to this Burnett. Showing him they were serious. A man like Burnett would only respect strength, and by breaking Los Tech 9s El Unidad was showing its strength. Still, he didn’t like giving Orozco that much responsibility this soon. The man was prone to excesses, staring with that cock-up in Las Plassas where he’d gotten in a gunfight with Columbian police instead of taking out the traffickers he’d been sent to punish. Instead of just breaking contact, Orozco had gone on to wipe out the patrol, requiring El Unidad to expend time and resources to repair the damage. And unlike Columbia one couldn’t just paper over the killing of police in Miami with a suitcase of cash. Reaching out, he hit a button on the Radio Shack marvel. “Is Corporal Hidalgo back yet?” His comms man replied at once. “Si, captain. He came back almost an hour ago.” “Send him in, would you? I need his report.” And I have another task for him. Maybe two tasks. We shall see. Corporal Hidalgo’s sharp eyes missed nothing as he reported in. “The captain wishes to see me?” “Sit at ease, corporal. What is the situation at the hospital?” “I’m rotating men into the observation position. Actually there are three positions, with a fourth in the hospital itself if we need it.” He smiled. “Better to rotate than to draw attention.” “Agreed. And what have you seen?” “One man seems to visit the wounded one. I would say he was the spotter judging from Philipe’s description in his report. His security remains constant as well.” Salazar nodded. “And your conclusion?” “His unit is being careful. They’re only sending a man known to us to visit him. We have never tried to follow him, as you ordered.” “Good. Continue the surveillance for now. And I have a new assignment for you. You’re to go with Lieutenant Orozco to conduct pre-raid reconnaissance on a bar called The Rooster on the edge of Little Haiti. Look the place over for security and that kind of thing. The attack force will be Orozco’s normal team, so locate entry and exit points with that in mind.” Hidalgo nodded. “Of course, sir.” “Send your recommendations to me separate from those of the lieutenant. Am I clear?” “Yes, sir.” “Excellent. Report to him once you’ve eaten and perhaps gotten some rest. His operation will take place after dark, but it’s best if the reconnaissance is done during daylight.” Salazar smiled. “Less margin for error. We can’t afford errors now.” Even though he wasn’t by nature a morning person, Sonny Crockett loved watching the sun come up over the water. Spreading red and gold over the rolling waves as it climbed into the stark blue sky. But today wasn’t one of those days. Rain leaked from a leaden sky, low, dark clouds hiding the sun like a shroud. Sitting under the wheelhouse awning on Tranquility listening to drops patter on the waterproof fabric he sipped his coffee and looked out across the marina. Knowing he was avoiding the inevitable. “You look like you’re thinking.” Jenny touched his shoulder as she came up from below, her white t-shirt sticking to her damp body like thin fog. “And you look like you just got out of the shower.” Sonny smiled and turned to kiss her. “Yeah, I guess I am. Thinkin’ about how this is all messed up. Heads in boats. Guys like that shouldn’t be walking the earth, let alone breathing in Miami. But they’re here, and I got to find them.” “You will. I know that.” “Yeah. But what then? What comes next? I thought I’d seen it all when they started feeding girls balloons full of coke and sending them through airports, but heads?” He finished his coffee, setting the cup down on the deck. “It’s gonna take all I have to run these punks down. I don’t know what’ll be left after that.” “Me.” She sat down on his lap, wiggling her backside to get comfortable. “I know, darlin’. Don’t think for a second I don’t know that. But it’s a different kind of numbers game now. Back when I was still with Caroline we used to talk about how many cops in the Vice unit got divorced. Now it’s how many of us have been shot and how many times. I just…” He paused, feeling her smooth skin under his fingers. “I just feel like we’re pushing our luck. I know some of those boys talk about making your own luck, but that doesn’t always work.” “I know how you feel. I felt that way when I walked away from my old life.” She smiled again. “I do miss it sometimes. Loading a statue or painting on Vellamo. Hoisting sail and running in with the wind along some shallow channel I knew the Coast Guard didn’t watch. It was like playing pirates, but it was real. Sometimes it was too real. You had to watch everyone you talked to. Avoid the drug runners because you never knew when they’d try to steal your boat or your route.” “The thrill goes away.” “Yes. And then it’s empty. Hollow. You’re alone most days. Really alone not just by yourself in some coffee shop by the water. That was when I knew I had to leave. And when I found you I knew why I had to leave.” “Yeah. I know the feeling. I got it once, almost, when Cait and I got married. But that damned charge was still there. And I chased it. Hell, it’s how you stay ahead in that world. But it cost me just about everything I cared about. And for what? You might love it, but it don’t love you back.” “No.” She shifted again, pressing herself down on him. “If your heart is telling you it’s time, you should listen. Your heart knows more than your head. And now you’d better finish getting ready or you’ll be late.”

Rico stood on the rooftop patio of Casa Cooper with a glass of scotch, looking out over the blinking neon of Miami. He’d lost track of how long he’d been staring there, watching the night claim the city. Mindy came out, resting her hand of his arm. “I just got off the phone with Randy. He said Dave’s doing as well as can be expected, whatever that means.” “It means he’s alive and can talk. But for a guy like him being out of the action has gotta be hell. I think that’s what Randy means.” She nodded. “You’re right. Dave always had to be in action. Now it’s on Randy. At least the captain will be with him.” “Yeah. Makes me wonder if there’s anything Marty can’t do.” “Sit on the sidelines.” Rico chuckled. “You got that right, pretty lady. Martin Castillo has never done well on the sidelines.” “Maybe he should start. He’s got something to lose now.” The scotch bit at the back of his throat. “Yeah. And he knows that.” Mindy sighed. “I just can’t shake how he looked when he got word Trudy had been shot. It was like someone had reminded him he was human.” “They did. He’d been on his own for so long I think he forgot how to hurt like that. If he ever really knew.” She looked out over the lights without speaking, and he wasn’t sure what was going on in her head. In some ways Mindy was an open book, and in others she was as mysterious as Jenny. He shook his head. Naw, she’s more mysterious than Jenny because you expect Jenny to be mysterious. Mindy? Not so much. They’d been living together for months now, and there were still days when he didn’t know what she was thinking. But he liked it. After a time she sighed. “Do you ever think about what comes after all this?” “The Job?” He shook his head. “Not really. At least not until lately.” “I do. You don’t have to worry about being reassigned. Pete’s been good to work for, but if they do end up promoting him the new guy would likely try to replace at least some of us.” “Yeah. And I’d have to go back to Metro Dade or turn in my badge.” Rico smiled. “But we’d better worry about these Unit 8 chumps first.” He looked out over the city. “It don’t feel right standing here with Dave in the hospital and those punks walking the streets.” “We don’t…” “I know, babe. We don’t have enough information to make any moves. But knowing and having it feel right aren’t the same thing. At least we could be shaking the trees to see if Carrera falls out.” “We should be doing something.” Martin Castillo looked out at the blackness where the waves would be. “I know we can’t. We have no target, minimal information. But it doesn’t feel right sitting back when one of our own has been shot.” Trudy nodded, touching his shoulder as they stood on the deck of the house they shared. “I know. But we don’t even have good pictures of the colonel or that captain, let alone anyone else.” He nodded in the darkness. “They’re ghosts. Ghosts our government made and turned loose on the word. I stood by and watched that for too long. But it ends here. In Miami.” Her fingers gripped his shoulder and he could feel her worry. “Do you think the Task Force can beat them?” “No. Not if they’re all in one place. But they won’t be. They have interests to protect, and this colonel will follow his training. He’ll secure his rear areas, but want to be close to the action so he can make the important calls. He’ll be at least that predictable.” She was quiet for a time, listening to the waves with him. When she spoke her voice was softer. “Do you really think they’ll go after Sonny?” “I don’t know. But he’s our best bet. They target transportation networks, and Burnett’s cover is in transportation. He’s one of the few major players left after Moncado went down and we rolled up his network. Most of what’s left are little fish.” “And Unit 8 doesn’t care about little fish.” Trudy smiled as she answered her own question. “Do you think he’s ready?” “Yes. He’s made his peace with that side of himself. He’ll need your support, though. Tubbs and Switek both have doubts still.” “Can you blame them?” “No.” He looked out toward the sound of the waves, letting his mind slide through old memories. Times he should have pulled Crockett back and didn’t. Opportunities missed. Zito’s murder had been at least partly his fault because of his failure to rein in Crockett. Trudy sensed the shift in his mood and changed the subject. “How’s Randy?” “Good. It helped for him to see Dave and to get back out on the range.” He hadn’t told her about the incident with the Metro sniper and didn’t plan to. But he had filed a report with the lieutenant who commanded the SWAT team with a request for an update on action taken. Someone like Carter was a threat. “How does he shoot?” “Better than Blair.” Castillo shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone shoot as well as Mather does. And he’s working through his demons. When the time comes he’ll do what needs to be done.” The Task Force met around the conference table the next morning, the air thick with Stan’s brewing coffee and donuts Rico and Mindy had picked up on the way in. Sonny stood in one of the corners of the room, coffee cup in hand, looking from the map to the assembled team and back again. He was still tired from last night, but he also felt like some pieces had fallen into place in his head. Castillo caught his eye and nodded. “Ok, people. Let’s get this party started.” Sonny sat down in his usual spot. “First, how’s Randy doing?” Dave cleared his throat. “He’ll be laid up for a bit with that bad wing, but Pete’s got an entry team covering him. Not Brick’s guys, but a team just as good. They’ll be in position until this shit is resolved.” “Good. I’d say swing by and visit whenever, but this Unit 8 is good. Odds are they’re trying to find him, and we don’t want to give his location away. I’m sure Randy will be happy to take Dave any messages.” Randy nodded. “He did want me to tell Stan the plan was damned good. It didn’t have a damned thing to do with his gettin’ hit.” Stan nodded, blinking rapidly. “Tell him thanks. That means a lot.” “You’ve all read up, so you know what we’re facing. These guys are both psycho and military-trained.” Sonny shook his head. “No, that’s wrong. They ain’t psychos on the whole because they don’t do it to get off. They do it because it’s effective, and that’s worse. Means they won’t make stupid mistakes chasing the thrill. One of two of ‘em will because outfits like that always have a few nut jobs in the mix.” Rico looked up from his examination of his cuticles. “So how do we get them?” “Easy, partner. We use me as bait. They hit transportation, right? And what does Sonny Burnett do? Transportation. Burnett’s one of the few big-timers left in business after Moncado went bye-bye and the Mendoza brothers started pushing up daisies. So they’ll come to me. It’s just a question of how and when.” Lester looked around. “What if they just try to whack you?” “They might, but I’m betting they have a standard drill they follow. Warn and then send a message if the warning is ignored. They warned Victor, and compared to Burnett he was a two-bit punk.” He looked at Stan and Lester. “How are we on comms?” “Good.” Stan’s voice was confident. “We’re going to start shifting frequencies regularly and limit our use of the fancy stuff. We’ve also got some of those dummy transmissions cooked up that we can start cycling any time you need them. Things to throw them off if we’re operating.” “Nice work, guys.” He turned to Rico. “Did we ever hear back from Metro Dade?” “Yeah. The captain asked me to call Baker in Homicide. He said they didn’t have any new leads on that, but their snitches are starting to pick up chatter about a new tax on coke coming into the city that’s kicking up street prices. They weren’t sure if it was connected or not.” “It is.” Castillo’s voice was flat. “What’s our next move?” “I’m gonna go troll for Carrera. Maybe bring Cooper along in case he decides he wants to talk business.” Sonny smiled. “The little worm might have something we can use.” “I want a cover plan. These men are dangerous. More dangerous than any we’ve faced before. Pairs might not be enough. And they’re also skilled enough to pick up our standard cover patterns.” Sonny nodded. “The captain’s right. We know they use snipers, so they could be overwatching us just like we’ve been doing to people for months now.” Mindy shook her head. “But a bigger team’s easier to spot. If we start working in fours, we might as well hold up signs.” Castillo nodded. “I agree. It’s a fine balance, and I don’t know which side we should be on.” “But we can’t just stick with business as usual.” Sonny’s voice was firm. “Over the years I’ve established Burnett as a guy who doesn’t go to meetings alone. He has a buyer with him, or one or two of his security people. He never works alone.” Stan nodded. “Like Biggs and Patch.” “Exactly. And it’s not always the same people around him. These guys will spot a pattern, but some patterns make sense. We can use that.” He took a sip of coffee and then his voice changed. “The thing is, they’re already here. They’re collecting this tax of theirs. They’ve already shot one of our own. They’re ahead of us now, and I won’t let that stand. We need to find them, draw them out, and then crush them. Mindy, Trudy, keep digging on the unit itself. They’re going to have weaknesses, and I want to know as many of them as you can find. Who would this colonel send north first? What do we know about him?” Trudy nodded. “Already working on it, Sonny.” “Keep me posted.” Sonny turned away from the table. “These guys won’t allow for many mistakes, if any. We need to be at the top of our game. And that means everyone needs to get in some range time. Shoot as teams if you can. These guys are all combat veterans. Don’t underestimate them.” Castillo nodded. “Range time and ammunition are not concerns. Chief Deputy Washington has approved it all. He knows what we’re up against and wants Unit 8 stopped. I want everyone in this office qualified to at least high-risk warrant team standards as soon as you can. If you’re already there, push higher.” As the meeting broke up, Sonny poured himself another cup of coffee and stared at the map. Trying to figure out how to steal a move on these people. And it wasn’t easy. He couldn’t really do anything until they tried to lean on Burnett. And he hated waiting. Rico eased up beside him. “I hate the waiting, too. How do you want to play this?” “We’ve already got Cooper in play with Carrera, so we’re kinda stuck with that.” Sonny shook his head. “But I’d love to get this Marus out there somewhere. How do you see him fitting in with Burnett?” “New York muscle and maybe transportation.” Sonny watched Rico’s brow furrow in thought. “I played him there as a bad-ass wheelman with potential. So that’s how he’d flow down here, I think.” Sonny nodded, letting his brain work over the possibilities. “Good. We can play Cooper out with Carrera, and then slip Marcus in once we move past him.” “How do you figure?” “This bunch doesn’t like dealing with middle men. They’ll push Carrera out of the way as soon as they have a line on Burnett. And that’s where we can deal Marcus in. Maybe he’s Cooper’s line to New York. His head of security. Hell, you can figure that one out. But that point in the process would be a natural place to bring him in if that’s what you want to do.” Rico nodded. “It makes sense. They need transportation guys. Cooper as a buyer? He might just be collateral damage.” “Pretty much.” Sonny smiled, feeling Burnett’s analytical side rising strong in his head. When he had that feeling things just seemed to float into place. He could never explain it, but it was a rush with few equals. “But if they wanted to take out buyers they would have the other night. That shooter hit Victor first because he was the target, and Dave because he was a threat they hadn’t anticipated. If you or Garcia would have been a target, he would have hit one of you before Dave. Military guys follow orders.” He smiled again. “I think they might leave buyers alone, at least for now. No buyers, no movement. But we need to move before they decide they need another message.” “You think they will?” “I don’t see why not. Hell, Burnett would never stop with just one or two. It’s all about control. And if they fear you, you have control. I think the ones with experience down south already fear them, and they know that. The boat was intended for them. It’s the runners who never dip down into Columbia they have to get their hooks into now. And I think that’s why they took out Victor like they did. It shows they can be reasonable. At least in that world.” Sonny shook his head. “And we got no way of knowing how many men they already have in Miami, or how many more they’re bringing in. If Unit 8 was company strength, they’d have over two hundred guys. But with a colonel in command, that could be over two thousand.” Rico whistled low. “Shit.” “You got it, pal. They won’t be able to bring all their people north, but you can bet some of the key personnel will come.” Sonny looked away from the map. “And if we can get those people, we might be able to break this Unit 8. But they’ll be trying to do the same to us.” “You think so?” “Hell, Rico. Breaking Moncado and Maynard stirred up enough shit they have to know there’s a new player on the field. We’ve been damned busy, and that’s like taking out a full-page ad most of the time. They might not know who we are yet, but they’ll know someone’s out there.” “And all we have is Carrera?” “Pretty much. I don’t think Hector and his boys know shit, and Garcia already told us everything he knew. These guys don’t seem to leave many witnesses around. As far as the guns go, I think Holmes’ guy just happened to steal a case or two from the shipment bound for Peru. Did ATF ever pick up anyone on the military side of that deal?” Rico shook his head. “If they did, they didn’t say shit about it.” “Have Trudy or Mindy pass it along. Maybe it’ll give them something to work from. And we don’t have time to clean up any more of their messes.” “And what about Carrera?” “We’ll go trolling for that bozo tonight.” Eduardo Salazar set the headphones on his desk and allowed himself a thin smile. The radio specialist had been correct. Through the hissing static and garbled voices he’d been able to confirm the emphasis. It wasn’t a task force, it was the Task Force. Taking a sip of coffee gone cold in the cup on his desk, Salazar turned his mind to the problem. When the Gringos put together a task force it meant more than one agency was involved. He’d worked with some during his training in Virginia, and knew more agencies equalled a larger and slower task force. This one seemed much faster, so he guessed there were no more than three agencies involved. One would have to be the local policia. Yankees and their protocol. But the other…that was a question he needed to answer. He doubted it would be the FBI. This unit moved too fast and too aggressively to be FBI. And given the rumors still swirling about the demise of some pig arms dealer named Holmes he didn’t think they were ATF. At least one source said Holmes and his pigs were busy shooting up an ATF raid when this unit swept in and finished the job. And if they were DEA he assumed El Unidad’s source would have said something. Reaching out, he flipped through the typed report of Sergeant Major Pascal’s interrogation of the punk Pancho. He didn’t care for Gordo’s methods, but they did have their uses. As his eyes scanned the lines, his mind wandered. Images flashing almost at random. Sitting in a hotel room outside of Alexandria, Virginia, waiting for a delayed class to begin. He’d been flipping through the TV channels, skipping past dry as dust American daytime dramas and talk shows, when he’d paused for a moment. It was an old program, black and white where the others were in color, set in a town called Dodge City. And then his eyes found the words and he knew. “Marshal Dillon,” he whispered. “Matt Dillon. U.S. Marshal. It was under our noses the whole time.” Reaching out, he hit the button on the wondrous device from Radio Shack. “Corporal. A word.” The radio specialist was there in seconds. “Yes, captain?” “I want you to search the airwaves carefully. Listen for anything relating to U.S. Marshals or the Marshal’s Service.” “Sir?” He could see the confusion in the younger man’s eyes. “There is a Task Force, Felix. I’ll also need a secure channel with the colonel later tonight. He must hear this directly from me. I think the agencies involved are this Metro-Dade police force and the Marshals.” Felix nodded, knowing not to question when the captain’s voice was this serious. “And the lieutenant?” “His men should be here by tomorrow, yes?” “Correct, sir. One or two are already here, but the full team won’t be assembled until late tomorrow.” “Good. If he gets anxious, send him to me. And let me know when the connection is ready with the colonel.” Once the corporal was gone, Salazar closed the interrogation report with a satisfied smile. Knowing the enemy was half the battle, and he felt like he at least had identified the enemy now. The next step was pinning them down. He knew where one of their number was, and had the hospital under constant surveillance. At last report the wounded man had at least two guards, but Corporal Hidalgo said they were not regular police. They wore no uniforms, were bigger than most police, and moved with the confidence of trained, experienced men. Marshals, perhaps. He’d heard about their high-risk warrant teams, and had seen one or two in action during his training. If those men were guarding the wounded one it would take a major operation to reach him, and Salazar didn’t believe it was worth the risk. Better to use the wounded one as bait to identify others. He wished the colonel would have sent Lieutenant Nunez instead of Orozco. Nunez was trained in intelligence, a function he needed now more than ever. Orozco was a hammer, not a precision drill. But he’d have to use what he had on hand. At least Hidalgo was properly trained for his mission. Thinking back, he tried to remember what his instructors had said about the Marshal’s Service. They seemed to have a wide mission, and powers that ranged just as broadly. Transporting prisoners, chasing Federal fugitives, working with other agencies. They were skilled manhunters, and that worried him. He was much less impressed with Metro Dade, although they did have some capable officers. Which element would the Marshals be working with? Homicide? Narcotics? Organized Crime? And without Nunez he’d have to work it out on his own. Maybe he could start Sergeant Velendez on the newspapers. He could look for names that featured in crime reporting and then disappeared. This Task Force kept a low profile, and perhaps the best way to track its members was to see who disappeared from reporting. Especially just before the Moncado incident. Reaching out, he activated the intercom again. “Send in Sergeant Velendez. I have orders for him” The Overton’s pink and blue neon blazed out in the darkness, and Sonny slipped on his sunglasses before stepping out of the Ferrari. Rico nodded, opening his own door. “Let’s get this party started.” For Sonny the shift started as soon as they’d stepped off the elevator into the underground garage. His face set in the blank Burnett stare. Inflection disappearing from his voice. Putting on the Ray Bans completed the change. His black blazer disappeared in the darkness, along with his black shirt and dark slacks. Next to him Rico was a blaze of color in his Armani suit. It was all part of the show. The doorman nodded and used his big arms to shift the crowd back. “Good to see you again, Mr. Burnett.” Sonny nodded and slipped the thickset man a twenty. Then they were inside, his eyes sweeping over faces tinted pink and blue from the neon along the bar. The bartender hurried over, his eyes bright with recognition. “Mr. Burnett. Mr. Cooper. Good to see you two again.” “Black Jack neat and a scotch on the rocks for Cooper.” Sonny leaned toward the bar. “Carrera around tonight?” The skinny man nodded, his head bobbing like one of Stan’s hula girl bobbleheads. “Sure is. He’s back at table twenty two with some broad and another guy. Should I…” “Just get us our drinks, pal. We’ll find our own way.” Sonny’s smile wasn’t a smile at all, and the man swallowed three times before turning back to the line of bottles on the back bar. Rico’s voice filled his ear. “I see the little chump. He’s got what looks like a midrange hooker and maybe a guard with him.” “Don’t loose them.” Sonny tossed a fifty on the bar. “Let us know when that hits twenty, pal.” “You got it, Mr. Burnett.” Sonny tuned away before the man could jabber something else. “I think that punk might have pissed his pants.” “At least he’s on that side of the bar.” Sonny felt the bourbon bite the back of his tongue as he took a sip. “Any other familiar faces?” “Naw. Not that I can see. This place is a zoo, though.” The weight of his big 4506-1 was reassuring as he took another drink. “Yeah. I don’t see squat aside from our pal and his rent-a-friends.” Sonny kept his glass in his left hand, leaving the right free for serious work. “Let’s go say hello.” Carrera had been in mid-joke when he caught sight of Sonny and Rico, and the smile died a quick death on his narrow face. “Burnett. Cooper. What a surprise.” “Raphael Carrera.” Sonny spun one of the free chairs around by the back and straddled it. “You got any good news for us?” “I don’t know what you mean.” “Maybe you’d be more comfortable without the hooker and the goofball with the gun.” Sonny looked from one to the other. “Go take a powder.” The girl bolted from the table like she’d been shocked with a cattle prod. The gunman looked like he was going to debate the point until Rico sat down within arm’s reach. “You heard the man. We got business with your boss. Big boy business.” Carrera made a show of being in control. “It’s cool, Dom. Go keep an eye on Sissy there. I still got four hours on the books.” He tried to make his voice firm, but Sonny could see sweat beading in his well-moussed hairline. Once they were alone he tried again. “What the hell is this, Burnett? Scaring off my date?” “Be glad I didn’t just slap you in front of her. How do you think that would play?” Sonny kept his voice flat, almost bored. “I don’t care about your night, pal. I care about making some connections for my friend Cooper so I can get paid.” Rico nodded. “And I’d think you’d care about your cut of any deal, Raphael. The way I hear it, the pipeline’s opening up again.” Carrera gave a slight nod. “So they say. But it’s not like the old days.” Sonny flagged a passing waitress almost wearing a short black dress. “Black Jack and scotch, darlin’. That puke at the bar has my tab.” Once she left he turned back to Carrera. “And that means what to me?” “Those heads, man!” “I heard about that. So some psycho sends eight heads floating in? For all I know it was some damned family reunion gone wrong.” “You don’t work south, do you?” “Nope. I’m strictly pick it up and move it through South Florida. I tried that south of the border routine once and got burned.” “So you don’t know…” Carrera’s voice trailed off, and he drained whatever multi-colored drink he’d been nursing in a single gulp. When the waitress returned he waved his empty glass. “Get me another. A double this time.” Rico played it up. “I read something about those heads. The cops think it’s some kind of Voodoo ritual or something, don’t they? If we were up north I’d say it was the Mob.” “You should wish it was the mob, Cooper.” Carrera went silent until his drink arrived, then he drained the glass with a single long gulp and ordered another. “Look, if you’d worked south you’d understand.” “Understand what? That you’re a pussy who’s wasting our time?” Sonny rested his arms on the back of the chair. “I think I understand that pretty well, Carrera.” “No, man! Not that shit. I mean about Ocho.” “Eight? Yeah, there were supposed to be eight heads. So you can count past one hand. You want a prize?” “Look, Burnett. Ocho runs the trade down south. Anything that moves through their territory has to pay a toll. A tax. Whatever you want to call it. You don’t pay, you end up stuffed in eight tires and set on fire. Or they kill eight of your people and leave the heads in a figure eight. They don’t touch the drugs, just the people who move them. And now they’re here.” “First I’ve heard of it.” “You will, Burnett. Trust me. The way I hear it, they warned one guy just the other day and blew his head off when he said no. Course he ran south quite a bit, so they knew him and he knew them. But they’ll get to you. And they’ll warn you. Pay or pay.” “English, Carrera.” “Pay us or pay the consequences. And you don’t want the consequences.” “I’m still not impressed. And you haven’t told me what you can do for Cooper.” “Look, I can try to set something up. But it ain’t gonna be cheap. Anyone moving product north is taking a hit from the tax, and they pass it on. And they might not do business with you, Burnett, until you’ve paid the tax. They don’t want Ocho coming after them for working with someone who hasn’t paid.” Sonny shook his head. “Maybe we’ll go find Pancho, then.” Carrera’s laugh was a sharp bark. “Good luck with that. He went to Columbia and hasn’t been seen since. Whispers are Ocho grabbed him because he didn’t want to pay.” “That’s funny. I heard he’s back in town.” “Maybe someone claiming to be him, but not Pancho. That girl you ran off? She was one of his favorites. She said she hasn’t seen him since he went to Bogota, and Pancho don’t miss dipping his wick in her for a second after he gets back from a trip. If he ain’t on top of Sissy, he’s cut up in eight pieces and feeding the sharks.” Rico looked at Sonny and shook his head. “I guess you don’t want to be part of a big deal, then, do you, Raphael? I’ve got almost four hundred large that’s looking for a place to call home.” “Look…I didn’t say that. What I said is it’s gonna be tough. I’ll make some calls, but understand the weight will be lower than you’re used to because…” “Yeah, yeah. This damned tax.” Sonny leaned forward, the front legs of the chair coming off the floor. “But if I find out you’re screwing us, Carrera, I’ll put a bullet in you. Eight of them if it’ll make you feel better.” “I’m not screwing you, Burnett. I’ll make some calls and see what I can line up. Meet me here in a couple of days. Same time. But don’t be surprised if Ocho finds you first.” They were back on the street before Rico spoke again. “That chump was scared clear through, Sonny.” “Yeah. He was.” Sonny kept his eyes moving behind his sunglasses, scanning the sidewalk and doorways across the street for any movement. “I don’t think he’s holding anything back about Unit 8, even if he only knows them as Ocho.” “You think he’s right about Pancho?” “Yeah, I do. And that means those bastards snuck someone in using his ticket and probably his passport, too. And you can also bet he’s calling around right now, getting the word out that I’m in business and looking for a deal. And that I haven’t paid the toll. That should get back to this Unit 8 damned quick.” “You think so?” “Yeah. We trained them to hunt guerrillas, and part of that is having good intel. You can bet the first people they sent were intel people, like those two Dave and Randy took out at the warehouse. The hitters will come next, and some are already here I’d say because of that boat.” He froze for a heartbeat and then reached into his jacket pocket for the pack of Lucky Strikes. “We got a tail. Across the street. Just inside the stairwell doorway next to that pawn shop.” “You think it’s Carrera’s guy?” “Maybe, but it could also be someone from Unit 8. I didn’t get a good enough look and he’s back in the damned shadows now.” Sonny took a deep puff, sending smoke into the thick night air. “But at least they’d expect us to try to lose them. I don’t want to lead anyone back to someplace important.” “Solid. Let’s do it.” Rico grinned as Sonny unlocked the Ferrari. Once the door shut he looked over. “You think they might be watching for Carrera instead?” “Maybe. But if it was me I’d be watching for anyone who met with him. Meaning they might have had somebody inside. No way to tell in that circus, though. Not without a second team of our own.” Sonny guided the car into traffic. “Keep an eye on our six and see if anyone breaks cover.” “Dude just came out of that doorway. Looks like he’s checkin’ us out but he’s not moving. It’s too damned dark to tell if he’s got a radio or not.” “I’ll take the long way back. Just to see if we grow a tail.”

Trudy Castillo listened as Lester finished making his call to the hospital security detail. “Sonny didn’t have their number,” he said by way of explanation when he looked up and saw her watching. “Yeah. I know. So he’s with Robbie?” “I’d say so. That’s where the call came from.” She nodded, turning back to her office. It had been a hard morning, ever since she’d woken to find Marty already gone. The note on his pillow hadn’t done much to ease her thoughts, and the briefing hadn’t helped a bit. And poking through the DEA and Marshal’s Service databases had left her even more worried. Unit 8 had been cutting a bloody swath through most of the transportation networks in Peru and Columbia, and even parts of Bolivia. Now that she knew what to look for she found their trail easy to follow. Producers who quibbled found their families cut to pieces. Transport people who balked at their ‘protection’ were burned alive in eight tires or their headless bodies found propped behind the wheel of one vehicle or another. If there were fewer victims than eight, the number was carved on a dead body’s chest or eight severed limbs were arranged on the ground in the same shape. And they’d been moving steadily north until there was only one place left to go. Putting names to the faces in the unit was harder, but she was making progress. There had been a major, but he’d been killed in some kind of running gun battle in the first days of the unit’s freelance actions. They’d already found the colonel, but she’d tracked down mention of a captain named Salazar, a couple of younger lieutenants, and a sadist with the rank of sergeant major named Pascal. She thought she could trace the pattern of the unit’s escalations of violence to the presence of Pascal, but it was still too early to tell. And the colonel would have to approve in any case. What she was learning left her shaken, more than she’d ever been since the creation of the Task Force. Unit 8 looked to be almost as good as they were, and they had more manpower. Looking at the printouts and the characters on her screen, she understood why Marty had taken the limits off the Task Force, and she found herself wondering just how much more he knew about them that he wasn’t sharing. Even with her. Stan’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. “Lester and I are gonna go grab some grub. You want to come or have us bring back something?” “Thanks, Stan. I want to keep digging through this. But I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich. A BLT if you’re going by that deli down the street.” “Consider it done.” Stan chuckled, his laugh lifting her mood instantly. “All I know is I’m so hungry it’s gonna take more than mom’s fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches to make a dent. It’s burger time for big ol’ Stan.” She was starting to settle back into the grim work of tracking Unit 8 through Columbia when Rico and Mindy got back. Rico looked around. “Where’s Sonny?” “Down at The Sanctuary last I heard.” She smiled. “I think he needed to talk to Robbie.” “Solid.” But there was something in Rico’s eyes hinting it wasn’t solid at all. “And Castillo? I mean the other one.” “On the range with Randy. How’d it go with Jenny?” “Damned if I know. Mindy made sense of it, though. All I know is she thinks Sonny’s solid.” He turned away. “I’m gonna catch up on the intel. If I don’t see him first, give me a shout when Sonny gets back.” Trudy frowned. “What’s up his ass?” “The whole Sonny and Burnett thing.” Mindy sat down with a sigh. “I thought he was ok, and then he started muttering on the way up in the elevator.” “You know Sonny took a shot at him when he was Burnett?” “Yes. But I also know that side of him has saved us more than once.” She looked down at her nails, and Trudy could sense the struggle in her heart. “Burnett is Sonny’s safe place, Trudy. It’s where he goes when he needs to be in control. I think it’s been there for years, maybe since he was little. Somehow he buried it when he was with Vice, and we know what happened there.” “Yes. Larry Zito. Eddie. Caitlin.” “And he couldn’t take it once he realized he’d been responsible for it all. So he retreated to his safe place. Somehow that got scrambled by the explosion, I think, and his original cover.” Trudy shook her head. “Way above my pay grade, sister. That’s all I know. But I do think those two need to have a serious talk when Sonny gets back. I’ve been reading up on this Unit 8, and they’re bad. I mean really bad. Think Maynard and that fat puke from the CIA and triple them. They won’t stop until they’re dead, and Marty’s right. The second they figure out we’re here they’re going to come after us. And they won’t play around.” Mindy nodded, still looking down. “I’m scared.” “So am I. And so’s Marty, I think. Not for himself, but for us and what those animals would do to this city if they get established. He’s not going to let that happen, Mindy. No matter what it takes.” She looked down at the desk, the weight of her own words sinking in. “No matter that it takes.” “What can we do?” “I’ve been going through everything I can get my hands on. DEA, FBI, what little CIA stuff we can shake loose. Even some DOD because of the School of the Americas. I’m trying to put together profiles of the leaders. The officers. We need to know who we’re up against. We already know what they’re capable of.” “Did Stan and Lester get anywhere with that signal?” “Not really. Just that it’s military-grade hardware.” Trudy shook her head. “It probably came from us. Just like their weapons and training.” “I’ll make some off the books calls to Quantico. I still know some people there from some classes I took before I was posted to Miami. They might have some stuff that didn’t make it into the files.” “Get on it, sister. I’ll shake the damned databases again. But it feels like we’re cleaning up someone else’s mess. Again.” “You might try ATF, too.” “Yeah. That hardware. I doubt they have anything, but you’re right. It’s worth a check. They might have something. And I’ll see if anyone’s managed to pull anything worth a shit out of Hector and his buddies down in Federal lockup.” Rico sat in the office he shared with Sonny, looking out the window and trying to get his thoughts and his heart in order. He’d been shorter with Trudy than he intended, and he’d apologize to her later. Right now he needed to get straight with himself. He could still see Sonny pointing the pistol at him in the dim stairwell of the lighthouse. See how his eyes shifted just before he said “I know you. You’re a cop” and tried to shoot him. But there was always the question in his heart. Had there been something else in his eyes? Something that made him miss? He’d never known Sonny Crockett to miss with a pistol at that range. It was like Dave missing with a rifle at thirty feet. The problem was he didn’t know. And he didn’t think Sonny knew, either. Looking down the barrel of a gun held by your parter was a hard thing to forgive, let alone forget. But what Jenny said made sense, and Mindy brought it into tighter focus. And he’d never really stopped to think…what did it feel like to be Sonny Crockett knowing you’d been indirectly responsible for the death of at least one partner, a fellow unit member, and your own wife? He’d only carried the weight of Angelia and it damned near broke him. How had Sonny managed, especially when the cowboy broke and he came face to face with himself? And now there was a collection of military-trained psychos bearing down on Miami. The eight heads had shaken him in a way nothing had before. And then when they realized it was a message and not just some random psycho it was even worse. Looking out the window, he could see the damend boat again in his mind. Those heads all arranged in a figure eight, the eyes all forward like they were watching for the dock to come into view. It was one of those things he knew he’d see at random at three in the morning for the rest of his life. Maybe Castillo was right. Maybe they needed Burnett again. And maybe, just maybe, he’d have to leave his comfort zone and resurrect Marcus Jefferson. He knew if they came after Mindy he’d have no choice. Sonny came back just after three, smelling of Lucky Strikes and bourbon. “How’s Robbie?” Rico asked without looking up from the file Trudy had dropped off not ten minutes before. “Good. He says hello.” Sonny knocked another of the filterless cigarettes out of his pack and lit it with the battered old Zippo Rico had seen him carrying for years. “And we need to talk, partner.” “What’s on your mind?” “Just say it. You don’t want to see Burnett come back.” Rico looked up. “It’s hard to want someone back who pointed a gun at your face, Sonny. But I get it. I just spent part of the afternoon up to my damned knees in the blood Unit 8’s spilled down south. Peru. Columbia. Bolivia. Hell, they’re some nasty cats. And they know what the hell they’re doing. We trained them to be good, and then they went off the rails.” Sonny nodded, sending a stream of smoke into the air. “Yeah. I seen shit like this in Nam. Heard about worse from guys who helped secure Hue after Tet in ’68 and found the mass graves. And I expect Marty’s seen just about all of it.” “You know, partner, I was thinking earlier. You, me, Randy, and Mindy are the only cats who ain’t been shot or blown up in this unit. All the rest have been. And you know what else I was thinking? When you were thinking like Burnett we didn’t have anyone get shot.” He looked down, wrestling with the question and finally deciding. “But I got to know. In the lighthouse. Would you have shot me?” Sonny paused, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. “I think about that a lot,” he said after a time, looking at the glowing end of the cigarette. “A lot of that time is still foggy. But I’ve been chasing this one hard, Rico. No. I wouldn’t have. That much I do know. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know more. Maybe one day.” Rico nodded. “That’s all I needed to know, partner.” Sonny shook his head. “No, it’s not. That side of me’s been around for years, man. I mean years. Before Nam even. Robbie and I talked about it. We go back a long time. But I lost touch with that side, and people I cared about got hurt. Hell, Stan still don’t like being in the same room with me. Eddie’s kid’s never gonna know his father. And Caitlin and Will…that’s with me every day. If I can keep the people I care about safe by channeling Burnett, I’ll do it. Like standing up in front of Maynard. I’ll do it every damned time now.” Rico nodded, not really knowing what to say. Then it hit him. “Marcus has your back, Burnett. We’ll fuck these fools up bad. Make ‘em wish they would have stayed down in banana land.” Randy found Debbie asleep in one of the chairs in the private room when he stopped by to check on Dave on the way home from the range. The marshal on duty, a big lug he recognized from one of the warrant teams, smiled when he looked in. “Yeah. She’s been there for like three hours now.” “Dave said anything?” “No. They’ve got him pretty doped up.” The man patted his jacket. “We got him covered, Dave. Don’t worry.” “The guys coming after him are ex-military. And trained to the gills curtesy of good old Uncle Sam. Don’t let your guard down. If they decide to finish it, they’ll come in hot and heavy.” “That’s what Pete said. So I brought my whole team. There’s the two of us you can see and then the rest.” “I don’t doubt you, man. Just want you to know what you might be up against.” “How the hell did you piss these boys off?” “We didn’t. This was collateral damage.” The big man whistled low. “Damn. Anyhow, you might want to wake her up at least. These chairs ain’t the best for sleeping.” Once in the room Randy stood for a minute, the tang of antiseptic biting his nose and the steady beeping of God knows what medical devices assailing his ears. Walking over, he touched Debbie’s shoulder. “Hey. How’s he doing?” She started awake, blinking and then smiling as she recognized Randy. “They say good. But all I know about doctors is what I see on the soaps.” “Me, too.” He smiled, trying to keep her cheerful. In truth he’d been in military hospitals more than he liked to remember, and from what he could see Dave did look pretty good. Even though he was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. “But them movin’ him here is a good sign.” Dave’s dry-throat whisper echoed from the bed. “Man, I close my eyes for a damned second and you’re already scammin’ on my girl.” Randy struggled to hide his smile. “I figured she needs a feller who can at least dance with her. And it looks to me like you’re a wing down in that department. That an’ I had to see if you were really skatin’ back here suckin’ down ice cream while I’m sweating my body weight out at the range.” He watched with a smile as Debbie got to her feet, awkward as she stretched to get blood moving into legs that had been folded under her for too long, and headed to the side of the bed. In his mind she’d just passed the first big test; what she did when her man got hit. He’d seen too many girlfriends and even wives in the Corps and after who’d just head the other way. Turing away, he let them talk for a bit, tuning his ears so he only heard voices and not the words. It was Dave who brought him back. “You get the bastard?” “Not yet. But we’re workin’ on it.” He turned to Debbie. “I hate to ask, but would you mind gettin’ us some water? I forgot on the way in, and I’ll bet Dave’s dry as a bone in the middle of the Mojave Desert.” She smiled. “I’ve been around you guys long enough to know when you want to talk business. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. It should take that long to find the ladies’ room, pee, and get your water.” Randy nodded his thanks and watched her leave. “She’s a good one,” he said as the door clicked shut. “You don’t have to tell me twice.” Dave grinned, his eyes swimming a bit from the painkillers. “But that don’t answer my question.” “Didn’t get him then, but we’re gonna.” He gave Dave a brief run-down about Unit 8. “And you did miss the captain kicking the shit out of that puke Carter. And I mean one kick to the jaw.” “Damn. I’d a paid good money to see that. He shooting?” “No.” Randy paused for a moment. “I am.” “How’s he as a spotter?” “Damned good. He’s done it before, and more than he’ll admit to. But you know Castillo.” “Yeah. Spooks in general.” Dave tried to sit up, grimaced, and leaned back on the pillows. “It ain’t your fault, Randy. Not a bit of it.” “Sarge is blamin’ himself, too. Even with the boss tryin’ to talk him out of it.” “You tell Stan I don’t blame him, neither. Hell, we had no clue those boys had a Banning-trained sniper out there.” “Why do you say Benning?” “If he’d been scout-sniper trained I’d be dead.” Dave’s smile was weak, and Randy could hear his voice winding down like a child’s toy. “Bad luck’s what it was. But if Castillo can see him you’ll kill him. You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen, bro. No exceptions. Just let go of the bad luck and nail that bastard.” Randy nodded, not trusting his voice. Instead he touched Dave’s good shoulder, making sure his friend felt the pressure of his fingers. When Debbie came back he lifted a finger to his lips. “He’s out again,” he whispered. “And from the look on that last nurse’s face I think visiting hours are over. Did you need me to drop you somewhere?’ She smiled. “Could you take me back to the club? Mr. Cann had one of his people drop me off, and my car’s there. That and I need to finish my shift.” “If that pogue’s makin’ you…” “No. He said go and don’t worry about clocking out. But I feel like I should put in the time.” She looked over at the bed. “And if I’m busy it keeps me from worrying about him.” Randy grinned. “That old skater? He’ll be fine.” His voice had more conviction than he felt. Judging from the bandages Dave had at least a broken collarbone and bones in his shoulder, along with muscle damage. He hadn’t looked at the chart, but he knew from seeing other men shot the same way his partner had months of therapy to look forward to. Finishing his water, he smiled at Debbie again. “And I wasn’t foolin’ about the water. It’s damned hot out on that range. Come on. I’ll get you back to work.” Captain Salazar was still reading through the notes his team had prepared about the response to the shooting when one of the duty men burst into the room he’d turned into his office. “Sir! I just got word from Cruces. He thinks they found the wounded man. He’s at Mercy General, but under heavy guard.” Salazar nodded. “Tell him good work. Also have him hold position. I don’t want him giving himself away. I need to know more about these guards. Are they local policia? Federales? Who?” The young man nodded. “And Lieutenant Orozco’s flight was on time. He should be here in ten minutes, jefe.” Salazar nodded. “Thank you. Have him wait ten minutes before he reports in.” It was a calculated thing, like almost everything Salazar did. To remind the whelp that even if he enjoyed the colonel’s favor it was Salazar who was in command here. He knew Colonel Delacruz considered him too cautious. But this was different terrain than the Andes or the dirty streets of Bogota. It required a different touch. Salazar had been one of the men trained by the CIA on the streets of Washington, D.C., in what the Gringos called tradecraft, and he’d seen American police response up close and personal. What was theory for Delacruz was reality for Salazar. A softer, quieter hand was required here. And Victor Orozco had neither skill. Of course the man had value. If you were assaulting a village full of peasants or conducting a raid on a cocaine production facility with heavily-armed guards, Orozco was your man. He had that flair, always in front with his silly chrome-plated pistol. The first one to lop off a screaming man’s head and ram it on a pole or stack it on a car seat. But he didn’t seem to know when to stop kicking down doors or hacking off heads. Not a problem in a jungle village, but a big problem in a city like Miami. And there were his other indiscretions… Shaking his head, Salazar forced himself back to the present. He trusted Cruces to keep a low profile and gather what information he could without risking discovery. The lean man had been a standout in the CIA training, and had shown a knack for getting into police offices in Columbia and Bolivia and coming back with information worth its weight in gold. The men he’d lost at the warehouse had been almost as good, and he wondered if this Gringo sniper team had been the ones who’d taken them out. It was in the last minute before Orozco was due to report in that Salazar found what he’d been looking for. Buried deep in the radio traffic that had clogged the airways after the call for an officer down, someone had come on the air and mentioned a task force. No, he corrected himself as he read the transcript again, THE Task Force. Looking at the top of the sheet, he pressed a button on the intercom he’d had his men buy from a wondrous place called Radio Shack. “I’ll need tape fourteen, please. As soon as I’m done here.” Victor Orozco reported in exactly one second after the ten minute waiting period. Salazar expected no less. And as always the man’s dark hair was slicked back and his civilian suit cut just a hair too perfect for Salazar’s taste. The man’s uniforms had been worse, always flown in from some overseas tailor. Even his damned fatigues. What kind of man has his fatigues tailored? Still, he returned the man’s salute and waived him to chair. “How was your flight?” “Long. But it’s good to be here. I’m ready to go to work, sir.” No, you’re not. Salazar smiled. “Of course. But first you’ll need to get up to speed. The situation has changed since you left. Our second message has been delivered, and we have a new target.” “Shall I take a team…” “No, lieutenant. This target requires special handling. He’s not some peasant you can frighten with noises in the dark. And he’s a Gringo.” “So? That should make it easier.” “Not this one.” Salazar sat back, fighting to keep his annoyance off his face and out of his voice. “Do you remember the briefings about the Manolo organization?” Orozco nodded. “I do. The Gringos loved to brag about how they broke up the organization just before it tied in with some Mexican colonel. But that wasn’t done by Manolo.” “Do you remember the name?” “I think so. Burnett, wasn’t it?” “Yes. Until he was betrayed by one of his associates.” “He managed to avoid capture if I recall. But what does this have to do with our operation?” “Burnett is the new target.” Orozco’s eyes went wide. “I assumed he was dead.” “No, lieutenant. He went back to what he’d always done well. Transportation. According to our contacts he is the best in South Florida. And also the most dangerous.” “We could send him a message.” “How? You forget, he took out the Manolos by killing them. There are whispers he fed El Gato to his own jaguar. And killing him won’t help. He holds the keys to his organization in his own hand. It seems he learned from his betrayal.” Salazar shook his head. “This news came to us just last night, also. That is why you need to get up to speed, Victor.” He got to his feet. “There is a bedroom in this safe house at your disposal. I’ve dispersed some of the other men to different locations.” “What’s our cover?” “This is simply a small apartment building. One of the many in the neighborhood.” Salazar smiled. “We own it through one of the Panamanian shell companies. What neighbors there are pay no attention to anyone but themselves.” He enjoyed the look on Orozco’s face when he saw the stack of files he had to read. “I’ll get started right away, sir.” “Excellent. The rest of your team should arrive over the next few days. And now if you’ll excuse me I have a tape to review.” Victor Orozco managed to control his anger until he was alone in his room. Then he slammed his fist into the mattress twice, letting the rage flow into the physical act. How dare Salazar speak to him as though he were a child! He knew the risks here, maybe better than the captain did. Still, he knew he had to obey orders. The colonel took a dim view of young officers who didn’t. But once his team arrived he’d have more room to work. There would be messages to deliver. Routes to secure. And maybe opponents to test his steel against. He’d heard a great deal of talk about how tough the cocaine cowboys were in Miami, but so far he’d seen nothing that impressed him. Nothing that compared to the men he’d faced and bested in the jungles of Peru or backstreets of Columbia. Standing in front of a mirror attached to the room’s lone dresser, he pulled out a pocket comb and adjusted the part in his hair. Attention to detail. Growing up the second son of a shopkeeper, he’d learned attention at his father’s feet while taking inventory, and tasting the back of his hand if the count was off. But even then he’d listened to his mother’s whispered words. You’re better than this she said many nights as he counted cans and packages of rice on the store’s narrow shelves. You will go places. And for a boy with no monetary resources or prospects, going somewhere meant the army. The Chorrillos Military School had almost been his undoing, but at the end he’d come out stronger. As a green sub-lieutenant he’d been fortunate enough to get a posting with the 1st Mechanized Cavalry Regiment, also known as the Junin Hussars. He’d learned to be aggressive at Chorrillos to cover for his lower social origins, and the Hussars gave him a perfect outlet for that aggression. They’d been working on an anti-guerrilla detail when he launched a raid that ended up capturing one of the Shining Path’s major local commanders. That got the attention of a rising colonel named Delacruz and he was invited to joint the new Unit 8. It was there, under the watchful eyes of Sergeant Major Pascal, he found his calling. Tracking and hunting guerrillas in the mountains. Shooting their way into cocaine production facilities. And teaching the peasants, rebels, and criminals to fear El Unidad when it drew near. At the time he’d been under the command of Major Fuentes. A warrior of the same school as the sergeant major. And it was in the mountain villages they began using heads as messages. Shaking his head, he forced himself out of memories of the high, clear mountain air and back to the thickness of a late Miami afternoon. He’d follow orders, at least until his team arrived and he got his feet under him. He knew his English wasn’t near as good as the captain’s, and he also knew that was liability even in a city like Miami. And maybe this Burnett would be the one he could use to build his reputation in Miami. Jenny was waiting on deck when Sonny walked down the dock at the end of the day. She was wearing her thin white t-shirt and maybe a bikini bottom…the sun had fallen low enough he couldn’t tell. But he didn’t really notice that. It was her smile he saw and most wanted to see. “Rico and Mindy came by earlier today.” She kissed him and looked into his eyes. “They wanted to know about Burnett.” “Yeah. I figured he’d come by. He’s worried with Dave laid up and this whole Unit 8 thing.” He gave her a quick rundown on what they knew about Unit 8 as they headed belowdecks. “Marty’s right. This one’s going to be nasty.” “You need your warrior side, just like Martin needs his. Even Rico. I know he’s got something hidden away. I can see its shadows sometimes when he’s not paying attention.” She sat down on the settee beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be here for you, Sonny. No matter what. Just like you were there for me when Monaele came for me.” He nodded, touching her leg and feeling her smooth skin under his fingertips. “So how was Caitlin’s House today?” Her eyes grew bright and she started talking about the girls and how they were fitting in with the programs. Sonny listened, nodding from time to time, feeling her enthusiasm chase his demons away. He hadn’t thought of that when he decided to turn Caitlin’s old house into a rehab facility for girls, but one of the great benefits so far had been how it reminded him there was some good in the world. That her death could mean something, and give something to others. “You’re only half here, silly.” “I know, darlin’. And I’m sorry. But I promise I was thinking about the House. How much good it can do.” “I know. You had that little smile on your face. Like she was touching your shoulder.” He nodded, not trusting himself to reply. He still didn’t understand Jenny’s feelings about Caitlin, but he was damned glad she wasn’t jealous of the memory. “I’m just glad it’s going well.” He kissed her, feeling her press against him. “And I just realized I’m starving. Let me see what’s in the galley.” “I made us sandwiches. I was thinking we could take your macho boat out a ways and eat under the stars.” She smiled, slipping her t-shirt up so it almost reached the top of her thighs. “And maybe a few other things, too.” “I like how you think.” He smiled again, letting his gaze roam over her firm body. “And it’s been a bit since I took the Scarab out. It could use a run.” “So could I…” She giggled, letting her shirt ride up even further as she got up and headed for the galley. “I’ll get the food if you want to get the boat ready.” The moon sat high in the sky when Jenny gave him a final kiss and let her body settle down over his. He could hear the sea slapping against the hull of the boat over their labored breathing, and tasted her sweat as he kissed her neck and ran his fingers through her thick hair. “That was nice.” Her voice was the wind’s whisper over the waves. “Yeah.” He smiled, feeling her body against his, still moving with the rise and fall of the ocean around them. The words seemed to stick in his throat, and then found their way out. “I love you Jenny. So damned much.” “I love you, too, Sonny. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life.” “No one’s gonna take that away from us. I promise you that.” He could feel her smile, but she didn’t want to lose contact with his body and stayed on him. Not that he minded. Jenny was an incredible lover, her passion rising from someplace deep inside and spilling over them like a tsunami. “No,” she said, echoing him. But there was something in her voice that gave him pause. Something familiar. “No, they won’t.” “We should probably head back soon.” “Yes, but not quite yet.” He felt her start to move again. “No, I guess not.”

Rico was still in shock as he walked out of Castillo’s office. He’d never seen the man so angry before, except for when Menton had Trudy shot. And he’d also not realized just how bad this Unit 8 was, or how big a threat they represented. Still, he wondered if going to their level was the best way to deal with them. Mindy had come back to get coffee, and she saw the look on his face. “What’s wrong, Rico?” He shook his head, not answering until they were both in the reception office. “I don’t like it. Not yet, anyhow. Do we really need to go to this Unit 8’s level to beat them?” “I read some of the reports this morning. I don’t know how Castillo got them, but he did.” She shuddered. “They’re evil men, Rico. As evil as they come. Resaca might have been the first time they beheaded people, but it wasn’t the last. And what made my skin crawl is how calculated it all is. Always eight. Always displayed where it will have the most impact. When the Peruvian police were after them they ambushed a convoy and left eight heads piled in the commander’s jeep. One was the commander’s, and the others were his sergeants and a lieutenant. The police never really got close to them again. And if they bring more of that here…” “Yeah.” He shook his head almost in spite of himself. “I get it. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around. And turning Sonny loose as Burnett…that’s a hard call.” “Trudy told me about the whole Manolo thing.” She reached out and touched his arm. “I won’t pretend to understand how much that hurt you, or what it took to trust him again. But this seems different. He can control it now.” “Can he? I mean can he really when it matters? I still see him last night. That thing with Garcia came out of nowhere.” “Did it? He was Burnett before the shot was fired. Garcia didn’t know he was a cop, and still doesn’t.” Rico shrugged. “Feel like taking a ride? No, not that kind. Not yet, anyhow. Marty said I should talk to Jenny about it. I think he’s right.” Mindy smiled and nodded. “He’s right. If anyone’s going to have insight, it’s her. And we’ll see about that ride, cowboy.” The drive to the marina passed quickly. Rico had half his attention on the road and the other on what he’d say to Jenny when they got to the boat. Mindy sat next to him, and he could tell by her expression she was thinking mostly about Dave. It made sense. They’d worked together for some time before the Task Force came together and he’d have been surprised if she had anything different on her mind. Thinking back to when Trudy got shot he remembered how he’d felt, but this looked different. Like Randy, Mindy was just mad. Maybe it was because Dave wasn’t hurt as badly. Or maybe they’d all resigned themselves to the likelihood of being wounded or even killed. How many has it been? Marty. Trudy. Now Dave. And Stan and Lester before that with the LAW. Hell, that’s over half of us. Only Sonny, me, and Mindy haven’t been shot or blown up. The thought stunned him. Looking over as they pulled into an open spot in the marina parking lot, he wondered if Mindy had worked that out, too. And if she wondered when her time would come. He’d resigned himself to that years ago, or thought he had, but it was different now. He had something real to lose. Before it had been ideas, or dreams. Ricardo Junior. Valerie, or what was left of that dream. But now he had Mindy. It changed things, in ways he hadn’t expected. And now they were going to meet someone who’d changed Sonny’s world in the same way. Maybe more given what had happened to Caitlin. Mindy touched his arm. “Are you ready?” “Ready as I’ll ever be. And ten to one she knows why we’re here.” Mindy smiled. “I don’t take bets I know I’ll lose.” Jenny was sitting just behind Tranquility’s wheel, drinking what looked like tea and flipping through a notebook. She smiled when she saw them, and Rico noticed she was wearing a business shirt with her almost-invisible cutoffs. “Hi! I was just looking over some stuff before a meeting with Angie.” She smiled and closed the notebook. “You’re here about Sonny. I can see it in your faces. Come on board and we’ll talk below. Mr. Jacobs is a nosy old guy.” Mindy gave Rico an I told you so look as they headed below. It was the first time they’d been on the boat since Jenny had redone it, and he was amazed at how homey it felt. Like she crammed Casa Cooper into under sixty feet. Turning, she smiled at them. “Can I get you tea? Coffee?” “I’m good. And we don’t wanna take too much of your time. I know this Caitlin’s House thing is important and big.” “I don’t mind. Not when Sonny’s concerned.” She sat on one of the settees, folding her long legs under her. “How’s Dave?” “They moved him into recovery and last we knew he’d been upgraded to stable.” Rico turned to Mindy and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we know much more than that.” “Who shot him?” “Someone who used to be in the Peruvian army. It’s a bad scene, Jenny. Bad enough Castillo’s pretty much turning us loose to take them out.” She nodded. “I felt something bad growing out there. They sent the heads, didn’t they?” “Yes.” Mindy spoke now, and Rico leaned back a bit, glad she’d taken the lead. “And Marty’s asked Sonny to take change while he partners with Randy.” “Good. Two warriors will help each other find balance.” She looked from one to the other. “And you’re worried about Sonny as Burnett.” It wasn’t a question. Mindy shook her head. “No. Well, maybe Rico is. I’m more worried about how he’ll handle it all. It’s a lot, and he…” “Doesn’t like to talk. I know. We can sit for hours out on the water and not say a word. But we just know.” She smiled. “Burnett is like his secret and his strength. It’s a side of him he buried for too long.” She turned to Rico. “I know what happened between you. During that time. I can tell you he’s learned to control Burnett, but you’ll need to see that to believe it. And I know you’re worried he won’t find his way back. He will. Before he didn’t have a reason to come back. Now he does.” Rico nodded. “It’s not too much for him?” “Not if you show him you trust him. I know that’s hard. He’s changed, and keeps changing.” She paused. “I know he wasn’t a good friend before. Or a good member of the team. I see it in Stanley when they’re together. He hurts from the loss of his friend, and Sonny still has to heal that hurt.” She took a sip of tea, and Rico noticed how blue her eyes were. “Sonny knows that, but he won’t say it.” “So you think he’s solid?” “Yes. He may go deep, but if these men are as bad as I feel he’ll need to draw on everything he has.” She reached out and touched both their hands. “Be his friend. He cares deeply about both of you. The whole team, really. But if he feels you there, he’ll come back. The danger is when he feels nothing.” Smiling again, she looked over at the clock on the wall. “The car will be here soon. I need to get my skirt on. Angie gets grumpy if I show up to meetings in my cut-offs.” “Solid. Thanks for talking, Jenny.” Rico got to his feet. “Let us know if you need anything.” “Just bring Sonny back to me. I can take care of anything else.” They were halfway to the car before Rico turned to Mindy. “Why is it I always feel like I just had an out of body experience when I talk to her?” She giggled. “I thought she made perfect sense. It must be a girl thing.” “Then maybe you can translate that ‘girl thing’ for me.” She wrinkled her forehead in thought as Rico pulled the big Caddy into traffic and headed back toward the tenth floor office. “Burnett’s like his safe place,” she said finally. “A place where he can go where he’s in total control. Where he can plan and make decisions without his ego getting in the way.” “The cowboy.” “Yes. Pretty much. When he stops caring about the spotlight he can plan using everything and everyone around him. And that’s safe for him.” She looked out the window. “I can see how losing Caitlin would have triggered something deep inside him. Especially considering the guy who shot her was on the street because of something Sonny’s ego drove him to do.” “Did you get some kind of psych degree while I wasn’t looking?” “No, silly. I did get some training from the FBI on profiling back when I was with the Philadelphia office, though. It still comes in handy sometimes.” He grinned, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose and making the turn into the underground garage. “Then maybe you can profile me and tell me how the hell I can do what Jenny asks.” “I’m not that good.” She smiled. “I guess just ne his friend, especially when it’s hard to be his friend. And maybe step in when it goes too far. You’ve seen that, and she hasn’t.” “Yeah.” He shut off the big car, hearing the engine tick in the cool air of the garage. “I just wish I knew how far back it went. Marty might be right about it starting before Vietnam even.” “It doesn’t really matter. We just need to be there for him now and not worry about where he’s been. Only where he’s going.” Her voice was firm. “And now let’s get up there before I decide to give Stan’s security cameras something to watch.” Rodrigo Delacruz looked at the latest report from Captain Salazar and allowed himself a thin smile. So far things looked to be going according to plan in Miami. Two messages had been sent, one big and one small, and the locals appeared to be falling into line. At least the ones who knew of El Unidad and what they represented. And he concurred with the captain’s assessment. It was time to broaden the reach to those who didn’t know but could learn. Lieutenant Orozco should be arriving in Miami this afternoon, with the rest of his team following through various routes within two days. That was good. It would give Salazar more men to work with, and someone who’d provide pressure to keep his activity up. Like all good commanders, Rodrigo knew who got along in his unit and who didn’t, and he knew Orozco and Salazar were almost like oil and water. Orozco drove where Salazar preferred to wait and see, but the older man was much more thorough and complete than the younger hothead. But now he had another decision to make. Looking out the window over the expanse of the city, he felt he was getting out of touch with events on the ground. Especially in Miami. An operation of that complexity and delicacy required a commander’s eyes and touch, and there was too much lag here. Looking at Salazar’s report again, he picked up the phone and hit a programmed number. “What do we know about this Sonny Burnett?” He spelled the last name and waited while a corporal accessed their database. Intelligence was at least half the battle, and Rodrigo insisted on winning that half first. “Yes, the captain mentioned he does transportation. I see. Mostly up the coast and further inland. And he was the one who caused all that damage to the Manolo organization? Interesting. Thank you, corporal.” Putting the phone down, he kept looking out the window. What the corporal had told him convinced him even more it was time to set up what the Americans liked to call a jump headquarters. Someplace closer to the action where he could remain in control and provide direction when it was needed. This Burnett seemed very capable for a transportation man, and he’d need careful handling. He was disappointed Salazar hadn’t been able to identify the other sniper who’d been on scene at the meeting, and also had questions about Corporal Valderama’s decision to engage. At least he didn’t shoot this Burnett, too. That would have been a tragic mistake. He wasn’t too concerned about the identity of the other man at the meeting, or the woman. He assumed she worked for this Burnett, and the man was likely a buyer of some kind. He didn’t care about buyers…there were always more of them. But good transport people were rare. It was a resource you needed to conserve if you could. Individual runners were expendable, but the people who coordinated that network were not, especially if they were as good as Burnett seemed to be. Nodding, he turned away from the window. He’d leave a few men here to keep the home fires burning and their network running. Much of El Unidad’s local activity could be handled by new recruits with a handful of experienced men to provide leadership and oversight. His veterans he’d need closer to the action. Salazar’s report showed him just how much money was to be made in Miami and the southern part of El Notre, the part that hadn’t been claimed by the Mexicans at any rate. And maybe, one day, they’d challenge them, too. Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a folder and opened it to a map of the coastal waters around Miami. In the last year his logistics people had been buying up one or two smaller islands, just outside U.S. territorial waters but within easy reach of the coast. Hidden behind layers of shell companies, many fronted by his former patron, they provided perfect locations for a jump headquarters and staging area. Running his finger down a list next to the map, he found what he was looking for and smiled. He picked up the phone again and hit another number. “Sergeant major? Ready the men designated as jump team one. We’re setting up a jump HQ at location Enrique. I want to be ready to move in forty-eight hours. Make it happen, Pascal.” Randy had always felt at home on a rifle range. Even before the Marine Corps tried to beat the routine into his very soul he’d been shooting in the hills and draws around Butte. When things got too tense at home he’d take his rifle and head out, shooting until it got too dark to see and he knew the fights would have exhausted themselves. And now, with Dave out of action, he sought that peace again. He could see a knot of Metro-Dade snipers gathering as he drove the range cart back from the barrel a thousand yards out. Ignoring them, he climbed out and unsnapped the clasps on the battered case. The Remington waited for him, like it had since that hot day in 1968 when he’d turned away from the rifle and to the spotting scope. He pulled it out, feeling the familiar heft of the weapon and smelling the linseed oil rubbed into the wood stock. One of the first M700s to come in-country, it didn’t have the later fiberglass stock. Even though he’d checked it with a bore sight back in the office, he was still worried about the scope. But the targets would show him the truth. “Start at one hundred,” he muttered as he went to the prone position, shifting a small sandbag so it supported the wooden fore grip of the rifle. “See if she’s good, then step it out. Save the real work for that damned barrel.” He looked over, making sure the spotting scope close enough so he could just lean over and check each shot. The range book was also in easy each. He’d log each shot, shooting back in the way he’d been taught years gone now. Ammo. Ear plugs. He was set. One set of five rounds told him the scope still held true at one hundred, and he repeated the drill until he was confident at five hundred. Each shot pushed the stock back into the familiar spot in his shoulder, the trigger breaking at the same brittle instant under his index finger each time. And he could feel his worries, his fears bleeding into the mechanism with each shot. The world narrowed to questions of height, of wind determined by the fluttering flags spaced at regular intervals on the range, and how to adjust each shot using the wires and range scale built into the older Redfield scope. Dialing up to nine power, he found his mind slipping back into old habits. He could sense the Metro-Dade people moving closer as he moved to the longer-range targets. He thought he could hear Carter’s voice through the earplugs, but he blocked it out. Five shots at six hundred yards, an adjustment or two, and then five more at seven hundred. The rifle, unfamiliar at first, had settled back in like the old friend it was. Now it was time to try the barrel again. Something told him he’d need the range when he met that damned sniper again. Unit 8 or no. He’d be Army-trained, so he’d shoot at five or six hundred yards at most. Maybe a bit longer in a stretch. But if he could hit at a thousand yards, Randy knew he’d own the fucker. Either way he’d get one shot. Now he just needed a spotter. He had no doubt Castillo would be good at it…hell, the man seemed to be good at everything he got near. But they’d need time to find each other’s groove. That was for tomorrow. Today was all about the rifle. The barrel was smaller through the Redfield, but that was because it was a lower-power scope. He didn’t care. He’d hit targets at a thousand yards in Nam more than once, and he’d found his groove. The five shots went downrange in quick succession, and he left the bolt open so the breech could cool. Tha familiar ache was in his shoulder, and he felt good. Drained, but good. “Hear your boy got shot last night.” There was no mistaking Carter’s voice this time. “You not see the target? That why you’re out here and he’s in the hospital?” Randy got to his feet, his eyes focused on something far away. “You’d best shut your fucking mouth now.” “Why? Hell, it’s true.” Carter’s voice sneered,, and his lips twisted in a sort of smile. “And now they gotta call out the second string.” He could see the others gathering around, waiting to see how things played out. And he saw something move behind them, a ghost flicking across his field of vision. “You get one warning. Step off now.” “Or what? You’ll try to kick my ass? Hell, we used to kick Marine ass for fun. That’s what you were, right?” “Stop.” The single word cut through the thick air, and the other men moved out of the way like they’d been hit with a cattle prod. Martin Castillo stepped into the circle, his eyes hidden by his habitual dark glasses. “Leave. Now.” “I don’t think so. You ain’t in my chain of command, greaser.” Randy didn’t see it coming. Castillo’s leg became a blur of motion, the wheel kick dropping Carter like a sack of grain tossed from the back of a truck. “Get this piece of shit off my range. And you can be sure your commander will have my report by the end of the day.” Castillo took off his glasses, and the men shrank away from his glare. “Go. If I see you again, I won’t be as gentle.” Randy shook his head. “That was a hell of a move.” “He deserved it.” “No argument from me. I was gonna kick his ass, but to be honest I ain’t sure I’d have stopped after one hit.” Castillo nodded. “I don’t blame you. How’s the shooting?” “Good. I think I’m back in the grove with old faithful here.” Nodding, Castillo went prone and settled in behind the spotting scope. The Metro-Dade snipers were a fading memory. “Let’s get to work. I’m a bit rusty, and we need to be sharp when we meet this Unit 8 again. Are you good out to a thousand yards?” “Yeah.” “Good. I’ll start there and work my way back.” He peered into the scope. “Call it.” “Range a thousand.” “Thousand and five.” Randy whistled. “You got it. I was trying to trip you up.” “Good. Keep doing it.” Castillo shifted. “Wind ten from the east south east. I don’t intend to leave until we’ve shot through all the ammo you brought.” It was the middle of the afternoon, and Sonny found himself outside The Sanctuary. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there or why he’d stopped outside the club, but somehow it seemed right. Not long before he’d been catching up on mindless paperwork. Rico was off somewhere with Mindy, Trudy was helping Stan and Lester go through the logs from the night before to see if they could learn anything new about that signal they’d picked up, and he felt useless. No, useless wasn’t quite the right word. Adrift might be better. So he’d gotten up, muttering something about going out for some air, and driven off in the Ferrari. And now he was here. Locking the car and slipping on his sunglasses he tugged at his white blazer and headed for the door. The doorman nodded, recognizing him and once, and said, “Mr. Cann’s in his office, Mr. Burnett. You know the way.” “Thanks.” It was cool in the club after the heat of the street, and a scant handful of people lined the bar or sat in small groups at the tables. Too early for the evening crowd and too late for the noon drinkers, he’d timed things perfectly. Still, he picked out two of Robbie’s security people on the floor. His old friend didn’t believe in taking chances. Robbie sat behind his desk working on what looked like a booze order, and he smiled when Sonny came in. “Always good to see you, Sonny,” he said as he got up and came around the desk, extending his hand. “You bring Rico, too?’ “Naw. I’m flying solo.” Sonny pulled off his Ray Bans and tucked them into the inside pocket of his blazer. “Been a rough couple of days.” Sinking in a club chair he told Robbie about Dave getting shot. “Turns out these bastards are ex-military,” he finished. “Trained by us, no less.” “Not first first time we’ve seen that.” “No, but these guys are top of the line. Trained by Green Berets and all that high-speed shit.” He signed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Marty’s got me looking after things while he settles Randy down, and I got some dark places to go to if I want to get this done.” Robbie nodded as he poured two glasses of small batch bourbon. “Than Burnett thing you were talking about?” “Yeah. Makes me feel like a nutjob talking about myself like that, though.” He took the drink with a nod of thanks and smiled as the bourbon bit the back of his throat. “We’re all two halves, Sonny. More sometimes. Look at me. Club owner and Vietnam vet but also one of the few to make it out of the Cannata family. At least two different things.” “Yeah, but this is different. You didn’t take out the whole Cannata family and run their business for a few months.” “No, but I could have. It would have been damned easy if I didn’t have that guiding star in me that didn’t let me do it.” “Don’t start on that again, Robbie. I ain’t going Catholic even if I am your son’s godfather.” Robbie laughed. “Nothing like that, Sonny. Besides, you’d drink all the Communion wine and probably bang one of the nuns in the bargain. Naw, I’m talking about what makes you you. Don’t forget, we played ball together back in the old days. I saw you build that Cowboy Crockett thing. I used to be the fly off the handle and think with my ass instead of my head one and you were calmer. That changed on the football field and later in Nam.” Sonny nodded, feeling the bourbon warming his body. “Yeah, I guess it kinda did.” “And you were out for yourself. No getting around that. I love you like a brother, but you were an asshole when I met you again here.” “Yeah, I know I was.” “But you didn’t see it then, man. That’s my point. You were so into you that you didn’t notice anything else. Couldn’t notice anything else.” Sonny nodded, seeing Larry Zito in the shower again with that needle in his arm. “Yeah. And I don’t know how it happened.” “And then things went really south. But that other part of you was still there. The one that called the plays, rallied convoys when the shit hit the fan. I guess you call it Burnett, but it was there all along.” “Maybe. Hell, it’s all too deep for me. How’d you get into this shit?” “I broke down hard after I testified against dad and all his mooks.” Robbie drained his glass and poured another, offering the bottle to Sonny with a raised eyebrow and filling his glass at the answering nod. “Ended up going to therapy. I know, I never said anything about it before. But it saved my life, man. Really. And I learned a bit on that couch, too. How to see things. You went full into Burnett because you had nothing left. Work only goes so damned far, and your wife and son had been murdered. Most guys would have just snapped, but you went back to your old self.” “Deep shit, Robbie. And we’re not drunk enough to talk about real shit.” “Maybe that’s good. But you gotta embrace that side of you, Sonny. It’s hard. I know I struggled for years with my family and its legacy. Still do most days. But look at what this Burnett accomplished. Shit, he’s still got a reputation that sends tough guys the other way. And you’ve used that stuff how many times now to save your team?” Sonny nodded. He knew he couldn’t argue. But it was hard. All the bad things came ghosting up when he didn’t expect it. Images of Celeste and that psycho El Gato. And good old Cliff trying to set him up so he could take over. But sometimes he saw the things that preceded Burnett. His Marine training teaching him to plan. Those moments in critical games when he could almost see the field like he was hovering above it and knew what move to make. And earlier, foggy memories of his father and grandfather trying to teach him things like there wasn’t enough time. After a time he spoke. “Yeah. I get it. It’s just…” “Hard. Yeah. It’s easier if you don’t fight it.” Robbie grinned. “But here I am beating my gums when I should be telling Debbie to take the night off and go see Dave.” “He’d like that, even though it will embarrass the hell out of him. I’ll call ahead and clear it with the security team if she wants to go.” “Have another drink and I’ll go see. I bet she does, though. She talks about that meathead all the time.” Sonny sat in the empty office once Robbie left, nursing his bourbon and letting Robbie’s words work their way through his brain. Knowing his old friend was right didn’t make any of it easier to absorb. Or make it more comfortable. He knew what he’d done as Burnett, and what he’d almost done. How did you embrace that? But he had to figure it out. And soon. “I was right.” Robbie came back with Debbie, the pretty blonde waitress Dave had been seeing for a few months now. “She wants to go.” “How is he?” “I haven’t seen him, Deb, but we were told he’s in stable condition.” Sonny walked over and picked up Robbie’s phone. “I’ll call ahead and make sure you’re cleared. He’s at Mercy General. The recovery wing by now. But he’s got a marshal security detail. Be sure you have ID with you.” He hit some numbers and waited. “Lester? Yeah, it’s Sonny. Look, could you call over and make sure Debbie’s cleared to pass through the detail to see Dave? Thanks, man. I’d do it, but I don’t have their contact info.” He turned back to the girl. “You should be cleared by the time you get there. Lester’s fast."

Martin Castillo got in early, leaving Trudy sleeping fitfully in their home by the ocean. After making sure Dave was alive and on the way to the hospital, he’d made a call. One he didn’t want to make, but it got him some of the answers he needed. But he wanted to be alone with it for a time before sharing the news. What his contact told him confirmed his fears. Things had changed. He wasn’t surprised when Sonny showed up before anyone else. Waiting until the detective passed through the outer office, he got to his feet. “My office.” Sonny barely waited for the door to latch. “If this is about Garcia, don’t waste your breath. I kicked the shit out of the little punk and I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” Castillo nodded, seeing the surprise on his face. “I know. I would have, too, if I had been there. That’s not what this is about.” He could see the surprise on Sonny’s face. “Then what?” “I did some checking with my contacts. Someone I worked with in DEA had information about this Ocho.” Castillo sat down, waving Sonny to a chair. “What I learned isn’t good.” “I didn’t figure it would be. These guys are bad news.” “More than we thought.” Castillo leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment to focus his thoughts. The whole thing brought back too many memories, distant jungles and things he’d rather forget but knew he never would. Operations with Project Phoenix outside of Saigon. Some of the missions deep in the Laotian highlands. “Have you ever heard of Sendero Luminoso?” “The Shining Path? Yeah, I think so. Some kind of South American terrorist group. I don’t remember where, though.” “Peru.” Castillo opened his eyes, sorting through what he’d learned and how it added to what he already knew. “During the Cold War the Army trained officers from many Central and South American militaries at the School of the Americas. The ones from El Salvador and Panama got most of the press attention, but there were many others. Some came from Peru specifically to learn how to combat Sendero Luminoso.” Sonny nodded. “I read some of the stuff about El Salvador. Sounds like the Army was doing some strange training.” “Lessons from Vietnam. Both ours and theirs. Other things. Other places. I never had any contact with the School, even when it was still in Panama. But I knew some people who did.” He closed his eyes again. “One of the officers Peru sent later when on to command a special unit tasked with breaking the power of Sendero Luminoso and narcos in one of the mountain provinces of Peru. My contact said they were successful. But their methods were extreme.” “Didn’t they capture the leader of that group last year?’ “Yes. But there was a change in government before that. The new political leaders started making changes, and one of them was eliminating this unit.” “Were they police?” “No. Part of the army. They were called Unit 8.” “So what happened to them?” “Their commander refused recall orders. He must have known he’d be brought up on charges by the new government. Instead he took most of his unit rogue. DEA tracked them working for a narco in the mountains until one day they reappeared running his production and transportation.” Castillo leaned back in his chair. “They stared hiring themselves out as transportation security. If you paid them, your drugs got through. If you didn’t, the heads of your people started showing up in clusters of eight. Along the roads. In town squares. Anywhere the message would be seen and understood.” “So they’re pretty much deserters.” “Yes. But very well-trained deserters. Some of them had instruction at Quantico, and likely the Company as well. DEA reports indicate they still work with military precision and are as ruthless as they come. They look to have stepped into the transportation void created when Moncado’s organization collapsed, and now it looks like they’re in Miami.” “You think that’s who shot Dave.” It wasn’t a question. “No one else has that level of training. The runner, Victor, was likely a message. If he refused to pay their protection he had to pay the price. In their world Dave was collateral damage to cover their escape.” “And you think these guys are here?” “Yes.” Castillo sat for a moment. Collecting his thoughts and wishing he could find another solution. “They are the worst threat we’ve ever faced, Sonny. These are not drug-crazed gunmen or frustrated mercenaries. They’re trained, skilled men who still believe they are soldiers doing their duty as laid out by their commander. They’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish their mission, and they will be well-equipped.” “Is there other proof?” Sonny shook his head. “I know you have your sources, Marty, but I just don’t trust the Feds most days.” “Mindy got the report back on the serial numbers. Both the gunmen at the warehouse and Hector’s men had M-16s from the same shipment. One that was bound for Peru. The Berettas are from the same deal.” Sonny nodded. “That’s good enough for me. How do you want to deal with this?” “We need to assume they know we exist. Or that they suspect some kind of special Federal unit is in Miami. So we need to be prepared to be as ruthless as they are.” He could feel a new anger rising in his chest. “They will not gain a foothold in Miami. I will not allow that to happen.” “Meaning?” “You’ll need to use every trick in your Burnett toolbox. I know Tubbs doesn’t approve, but these are special circumstances. We need to develop the situation. Gather intelligence on this Unit 8 and where they might be operating in the city. And then we need to take them out.” “It sounds like you’re planning to be away.” “No. I’ll be partnering with Randy.” Castillo looked out the window. “He’s going through a rough time now. Doubting himself and everything he’s done. He’ll need a spotter. I’ve…” More memories flashed up from the Laotian jungles. “I’ve done that before. And they have a sniper. We need one of our own.” Sonny nodded, and Castillo could see his eyes focusing on something far away. “We need to find their weak spot. Something they need, or think they need. You said they don’t deal drugs directly?” “No. They like to control trade lines.” “That’s their weakness. They’ll want to have their finger on every trade route and every runner. It was the same thing I did when I took over the Manolo operation. If they can’t move product, producers are paralyzed. And if dealers can’t get product everything goes haywire. I’ll bet they were the reason behind the slowdown in shipments the last month or so. And if they’re trying to tax runners, sooner or later they’re going to take a run at Burnett.” “I’ll need you to watch the mood of the team. Especially Stan. He’ll be blaming himself for this, even though it wasn’t his responsibility.” “Yeah. There was no way we could have even guessed a sniper would be on station, let alone that he’d be that good. Stan’s plan was perfect given what we knew.” “And what we could assume. Had we known about Unit 8 we might have planned differently.” “Any clue why DEA never passed that intel on?” “No. And I don’t think we’ll ever know for sure. If the Company was involved in training Unit 8, and I think they were, they might have had a hand in it. But that doesn’t matter now. What matters is stopping them.” He locked eyes with Sonny, knowing his stare was full-on. “And we will stop them.” Once the detective left, Castillo closed his eyes and tried to focus his entire being on his breathing. The air moving in and out of his lungs. But it didn’t work. He kept seeing those distant jungles, the small nameless villes north and west of Saigon, and the things both sides did there. Part of him had recognized the method, and he’d ignored it. He’d have to live with that, and it would be worse if anything happened to Dave. He’d sent Sonny after Stan for a purpose. Sonny needed to see what losing a team member looked like when you cared about the team, and Stan needed to see Sonny absorb that lesson. Granted Dave wasn’t dead, but Stan would blame himself for the wounding just the same. Back with OCB Crockett had always managed to skate around responsibility. Castillo wanted him to see it up close this time. The jangling of the phone interrupted his thoughts. He knew who it was before he touched the receiver. “Chief deputy. I was about to call you. Let me bring you up to speed…” Stan could feel Gina looking at him as he tried to finish his coffee. With a sigh he set the cup down. “Just say what you gotta say, babe.” “It’s not your fault, Stan.” He could see the tears in her eyes. “There was nothing you could have done.” “Try telling that to Randy.” Shaking his head, he still wished Trudy and Rico would have let him into the waiting room. They’d insisted it wasn’t a good idea, that Randy was too worked up, but Stan knew what it was like to have your partner down. “I should have just gone in there.” “You’ll see him today. He’ll understand. And Dave’s not dead.” Gina walked around the small table and laid her hand on his shoulder. “It’s not like Larry.” “I know.” He shook his head, taking her in his arms. “I know, babe. But I’m the guy in charge. Anything that goes wrong lands in my lap. And I’m not Crockett. I can’t just shake that off when I feel like it.” “He’s not really like that anymore, Stan.” “Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. I just know I’m torn in two. One side just wants to go the hospital and stay there until I know Dave’s gonna be ok, and the other side wants to go out and kick some serious ass. I want to know who did this and make ‘em pay.” He gave her a final squeeze. “And I gotta get going, and you do, too, if you don’t want to be late.” Driving in, Stan pushed a cassette into the car’s player and tried to drown out his thoughts with Elvis’ greatest hits. But he kept hearing Randy making the 10-13 call over and over in his head. Seeing Lester’s eyes bug out as he shouted the call over the radio. And feeling his gut sink down into his shoes as he imagined Dave bleeding out on the rooftop. They’d never had a chance to get the shooter, and that made it even worse. And he’d felt so damned helpless, almost as bad as when he found Larry in the gym shower. But there was part of his brain, a little corner, that wondered why it was bothering him so much. He hadn’t been as upset when Trudy got shot, and even Castillo’s wounding hadn’t hit him the same way. And he’d known them far longer than Dave. Turning the convertible into his usual spot in the underground garage, he tried to push it all aside. There was work to do. He wasn’t surprised when Castillo met him just inside the office door. Mindy sat at her desk in the reception area, and she gave him a quick smile before the captain spoke. “I want you to know this isn’t your fault, Sergeant Switek. Your plan was perfect based on what we knew about the situation at the time. I’ve spoken with the hospital, and Deputy Blair is out of surgery and in recovery now. They expect he’ll make a full recovery, although they can’t be sure about the range of motion in his arm. It’s still too early.” Stan shrugged, letting the information wash over him. “Thanks for the effort, Captain. But it was still my operation and my guy who got hurt. Maybe if I’d have been…” Castillo laid a hand on his shoulder. “It wouldn’t have changed a thing. We didn’t know Victor had been warned by these people until Crockett interrogated Garcia after the shooting. And we didn’t know until this morning who we were facing.” He was quiet for a moment. “A leader can’t look backward, Stan. You can learn from it, but you can’t let it own you. You can’t change the past, but you can use it to shape your future.” He nodded, hearing the sense in the words but still feeling that tug from his heart. “I keep asking myself if I pulled a Crockett. Pushed too hard with no thought for what could happen.” Castillo shook his head. “No. You didn’t. Your plan was beyond question, given what we knew and could anticipate at the time. You can’t plan for things you don’t know, no matter how much people who weren’t there might say you can.” He paused again, and Stan felt a tremor in the hand that was still on his shoulder. “If anything the fault is mine for not asking certain questions of others. But now we need to plan. I just wanted to let you know I back your plan and your judgement completely.” Stan nodded, but he felt his pulse climb when Sonny Crockett came out of the conference room. “Thanks, captain. I appreciate it.” Sonny’s voice was low. “I hear Dave’s gonna be ok. That’s good news, right?” “Yeah. Better if he hadn’t been shot in the first place.” Stan noticed Castillo turn and head into the inner room, leaving them alone with Mindy in reception. “It always is, man.” Sonny paused, and Stan could see his eyes shifting as he tried to pick his words. Finally he just signed. “Look, I’m not good at this fuzzy shit. I know it, and you sure as hell know it. You’re proud of your team, and you care about each one of them…and that’s something I admire about you.” “Come on, man…” “No, hear me out. I’m serious. You watch out for ‘em and plan so they’re all covered. Me? Hell…some days I remember I’m on a team. It’s better now that it was back at OCB, but I still have my moments. And when I do I try to think ‘what would Stan do?’. I know that sounds dumb as hell, but it’s what I do to focus.” “Even when you’re planning like Burnett?” Sonny’s laugh was short. “Naw. That guy’s thorough as hell. Accounts for everything. But good ol’ Sonny? Not so much. The short is, Stan, you didn’t do a damned thing wrong last night. You had people in position to support Dave and Randy, and I’ll bet that helped save his life. Me? I’d have been tempted to split ‘em up to get better coverage, and Dave would have bled to death before anyone could get to him.” Stan nodded. He could see Sonny doing just that, but he had to be sure. “You’re not just saying that?” “No. I’m not.” Reaching out, Sonny slapped Stan’s shoulder. “Now let’s go see what the captain’s uncovered for us. I got the short version earlier, and that wasn’t pretty.” Stan nodded. “Is Randy here?” Sonny paused for a moment. “Yeah. He wanted to talk to you. He’s in the armory. Take five and then we’ll start the briefing.” Stan walked through the conference room, nodding to but not really seeing the rest of the team. Randy was the one he’d been dreading, and he needed to just face it head-on. The armory, as they’d taken to calling the room Dave and Randy spent most of their time in, was dark except for a single light burning above the workbench. Randy Mather was there, looking down at a rifle case Stan couldn’t remember seeing before. He looked up when Stan came in, his light blue eyes empty. “We got a minute or two?” “Yeah. Five according to Sonny.” Stan shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m sorry about Dave.” “You don’t need to be, sarge. That ain’t on you. Your plan was perfect given what we knew. I can’t fault you a bit, even if I wanted to. I should have seen that bastard on the other roof.” Stan shook his head. “If you knew to look for someone. Man, I get it. I’ll be kicking myself in the balls about this for days, maybe weeks. But Sonny and the captain are right, and you know how I hate saying Sonny’s right about anything. This isn’t on us. But now that we know they have a shooter out there we can plan for him and catch the bastard.” Randy shook his head. “I don’t want to catch him. I want him dead.” “Won’t we have to wait for another sniper?” Randy shook his head again, opening the hardshell rifle case. “No. I’ll do it, sarge.” Resting inside was a Remington M700 that looked to have seen long service. “Brought her back from Nam. And it’s time she went to work again.” Stan nodded, remembering the anger that had almost destroyed him when he found Larry. “You got a spotter?” “Yeah. And you ain’t gonna believe who it is.” Castillo looked around the table at the assembled members of the Task Force. Mindy and Trudy both looked worried, and Lester was still joking with Stan, trying to get the bigger man to laugh or at least smile. Crockett and Tubbs sat in their usual spots, but he could feel tension between them. I’ll have to talk to Tubbs after this he thought. To finish this we need Burnett. He let them chat a bit longer, and cleared his throat when he finally heard Stan chuckle. “Let’s begin.” He walked over to the map and pointed at the area when the shooting occurred. “Here is where things changed for us. Just so you all know, Deputy Blair is in recovery now and his condition has been upgraded to stable. I spoke with Chief Deputy Washington and they will provide security for him. At this point it’s just a precaution, but one I feel is worth taking.” Rico raised his hand. “Do we know who these chumps are, captain?” “Yes.” Castillo let the word hang in the air. “And they are not chumps. Far from it.” He gave them the same history of Unit 8 he’d told Sonny earlier, but with some additions. Another call to another source had dragged some more details into the sunlight. “Putting eight heads in a boat is far from the worst thing these men have done. When they were still part of the Peruvian military they conducted an operation in a small mountain village called Resaca. The village was said to have been cooperating with the guerrillas, although it may have been they simply feared them more than the government. Unit 8 lined the road into the village with eight heads on poles, four from the village elders and four from Sendero Luminoso’s local unit. Once the unit settled in they conducted patrols around the village, always severing eight heads from the people they killed.” Randy shook his head. “Hard core. Sounds like the VC.” “Yes. Most of them were trained at the School of the Americas, and many went through advanced training at other spots in the U.S.” Reaching into the folder in front of him, Castillo pulled out a glossy photo and slid it into the center of the table. “This is their commander. Colonel Rodrigo Delacruz. I’m working on getting more information about the other senior leaders in the unit, but his was easy because he’s wanted in Peru for war crimes.” “How do we know that’s who we’re dealing with?” “Good question, Deputy Mather. Aside from the signatures, the weapons we recovered from the two men at the warehouse are from the same batch that was being sold off by Hector and his bikers. All those weapons were part of an aid package sent to Peru.” He smiled. “And we know Hector and Holmes before him never sold to Latins.” “Yeah. There is that. And it would explain the eight the one guy had tattooed on his arm.” “Yes. That seems to be one of their trademarks as well.” Castillo thought back to the nervousness in the voice of the second man he’d called. A freelancer who’d contracted with the Company at one time in the mid-1980s. He’d trained some Peruvians with those tattoos and remembered how vicious they were even in classes. And he’d also said more than a few of them had gone on to advanced tradecraft courses at Langley. “Make no mistake, these men are well-trained as well as ruthless.” “Do we know anything else about them?” Sonny looked down at his notepad, and Castillo could almost hear his mind racing. “They went quiet around the time we were dealing with those Bolivians. It’s possible they’d been retained to help with the planned coup. But once we shut down the Miami end of that plan, Unit 8 returned to its old habits.” Trudy looked at the map. “So they have people in Miami. Do we know where they’re based?” “No. Possibly Columbia. I doubt Peru, since the senior leadership is all wanted. But it’s also possible they move headquarters from time to time. That would be in keeping with their training. Also, when they were still with the Peruvian Army they had no fixed base of operations. They were always sent to hot spots with orders to cool them down by whatever means necessary.” Stan spoke for the first time. “Do we have any idea about their capabilities? With tech, I mean.” “Assume they’re good. Not as good as you, Switek, but they’ll be monitoring communications and possibly trying to locate us. I know there’s been chatter ever since we took down Moncado about some kind of special Federal unit, and they will hear that chatter. Preparing the battlefield is something they’ve been trained to do and they seem to be very good at it.” Lester nodded. “That explains something. I was going through the logs from last night, replaying our tapes and checking frequencies, and someone out there was using burst transmissions. Short, way down on the frequency bar, but they were there.” Castillo nodded. “Isolate them. That’s likely Unit 8. Could they have heard ours?” “Not likely, captain. We’re even more locked down and running on lower power. But…it’s possible they might have seen the same thing I did. They’d have to have a damned good system, but it’s possible.” “Switek, I want you and Lester to develop a comm plan for this. Increase sweeps of our lines. I want our communications to be secure and, as much as possible, difficult for someone to detect. Use Metro-Dade’s capability as a baseline and build up from there. These people probably have every police frequency monitored by now.” “What’s our mission objective?’ Sonny’s voice was flat and distant. Castillo knew what that meant. “We are going to eliminate Unit 8 in Miami. They like messages? So do I. We will not tolerate them in our city. Miami is not Bogota, and they need to understand that.” “And the teams? We’re down one critical person now.” “I’ll be working with Deputy Mather as his spotter. When I’m doing so, Lieutenant Crockett will have operational control of the Task Force. The Chief Deputy has agreed to have our usual entry team on call if we need support. Brick’s people know our methods and I think they’re a good fit.” Trudy had been taking notes the whole time, and she looked down at her pad. “What’s our next step?” It was Sonny who spoke, his voice again Burnett-flat. “They like to target transportation. That means they’ll be looking for Burnett. I was hard to miss last night, and if they had a sniper they had spotters as well. They’ll be trying to figure out who the Gringo was, and it won’t be hard to put together.” His smile didn’t touch his eyes. “And I’ll just wait for them to make their approach.” Rico looked concerned. “You think they will?” “Yeah. At the end of the day they’re just shakedown artists. They warned Victor before they blew his head all over the parking lot. They don’t move product themselves, so they need the people who do. And Burnett’s got a reputation for being very good at what he does.” Rico nodded, but Castillo could see the doubt in his eyes. “Do we stay after Carrera?” “Yes. He’s made trips south, so he will be aware of Unit 8 and might help us put Burnett in contact with them.” Castillo closed his folder. “I’ll keep you updated regarding Deputy Blair’s condition. And we go to a heightened state of security as of now. These men are dangerous, perhaps the most dangerous we’ve ever faced. Do not underestimate them. But we are more dangerous. They will learn that.” He turned away from the map. “Tubbs, my office when you have a moment.” The conversation would be difficult. Castillo knew that. Even if Sonny hadn’t tried to shoot Rico during the whole Burnett affair he knew it would be hard to talk to the detective about it. But it had to be done. He waited until Rico was settled into his chair. “Your thoughts on last night.” “Sonny didn’t need to slap Garcia around.” “Even to maintain his cover?” “Well…he wasn’t in his cover.” “No. He was. Garcia has been told that Burnett and Cooper walked last night, thanks to a large contribution to the police retirement fund.” Castillo leaned back, letting his mind sort through what he needed to say. “I know you don’t care for that side of Sonny’s personality, but it is part of who he is. Denying it, I believe, led to his break in the aftermath of that explosion. And we need that side of him now.” “Do we, Marty?” Rico’s voice was hot. “Do we really?” “Yes. If we are to stop these men. The Burnett side of Sonny is a fantastic planner.” “Yeah. I can’t deny that. But there’s the nasty streak.” “We might need that, too. These are not normal criminals we’re dealing with.” “Isn’t our job to arrest them?” Castillo thought back to his conversation with Pete Washington and the order he’d been given. “No. Our job is to eliminate them as a threat in Miami. That comes directly from the chief deputy and his superiors. Unit 8 is not to be allowed to establish a foothold of any kind in Miami.” “And an arrest would expose the connection to the School of the Americas and the Company. That’s bad PR.” Castillo leaned forward, feeling his eyes shift into his stare. “I don’t care about any of that, Lieutenant Tubbs. These men sent eight heads into my city. That will not stand. These men stacked eight tires around one of their rivals, doused them with gasoline, and set them on fire. That will not happen here. But it will if we do not take action. A judge in Columbia sentenced one of their former sergeants to ten years in prison. They shot him eight times in the chest and murdered seven other members of his family, including three young children, as a message not to trifle with Ocho.” He clipped off each word. “That. Will. Not. Happen. Here.” “I didn’t know…” “Now you do. I’ll need you to keep an eye on Crockett. Let me know if he’s in too deep. He’ll need your help, Rico, even though he doesn’t know it. Burnett is a very dark place for him. Some of it might go back to Vietnam or before. I don’t pretend to know his heart. Support him. Maybe talk with Jenny, too. She knows his heart better than any of us, and maybe better than he does himself.” He leaned back, letting the anger drain from his eyes with great effort. “Check with Baker in Metro-Dade Homicide, too. See if they have any new information. I doubt they will, but you never know.”

“Tell me again why we didn’t stay in the damned van.” Randy grinned, the motion little more than a flash of teeth in the growing gloom. “Elevation is an advantage. Didn’t you tell me that once?” “Maybe when we was both drunk.” Dave shook his head and continued pulling the Remington out of its soft carry case. “And I sure as hell wasn’t talkin’ about some roach-infested rooftop in the middle of lost hope, Florida.” In truth he wasn’t all that opposed to the position. At least from here they could see the street on three sides of the meet location. Once upon a time it had been a Midas shop, judging from the shape of the gutted sign mounted above the boarded-up doors of the old car bays. Now it waited for the wrecking ball and some new initiative to plant ‘traditional’ row houses or some such crap along the street and make some sleazeball developer millions on the backs of idiots who didn’t know any better. But for now the place just loomed like an empty shell. The old business lights were long-broken, and only one of the four streetlights worked. But there was enough light to shoot by, and more than enough for the spotting scope to work its magic. And if it came down to it they also had NVGs, although Dave hated shooting using Starlite gear. Lester’s voice crackled in his ear. “They just left the barn. You two in position?” “Yes, mom.” Randy’s voice was a light whisper swept away by the faint evening breeze. “Sure. Got the doors covered.” Dave shifted the rifle a hair. “Got a van coming into the target area. Get eyes on.” He sensed rather than saw Randy nod. “Copy that. Got the van. Looks like driver and passenger. Maybe a guy in the back. I can’t tell. It’s a rape wagon with tinted windows.” He paused. “And we have a winner. It’s stopping in front of the target.” “The target has stopped. Handing off to you.” Philipe nodded, knowing the man on the other end of the radio couldn’t see the motion. “Confirm,” he whispered, the handset millimeters from his mouth. “Silent now.” It was dark on the rooftop, surrounded as they were by chillers and sheet metal conduit pumping air into the building. Or it would be if the system still worked. He was thankful for the cover, but also glad for the quiet. They’d gotten into position only moments ago, guided in by the same team that followed their target to the location. They all had read the profile, and the information on the four spots the puta regularly used for his business, and the tailing team had been able to narrow the destination down quickly. A little more time to set up would have been nice, but he’d learned both in his training and the hard school of the mountains and jungle that you rarely got to pick your spot or the time of your shot. At least he’d worked with Cruces before. The man was a decent spotter, and knew when to speak and when to keep his mouth shut. It was in Philipe’s experience a rare gift. Looking over he saw the man scanning both the target building and surrounding rooftops. Habits learned the hard way in combat against guerrillas and shooters from other cartels. Setting up his rifle, a Winchester Model 70, he still found it hard to believe how the colonel had made the switch for them. And how much money they made feeding the Gringos’ bad habits. Pulling two small sandbags out of his rucksack, Philipe used them to brace the rifle just in front of the trigger guard and magazine base plate. Always careful to keep anything away from the barrel. He tested the range of motion, shifting one bag just a hair before he was satisfied. “Anything?” “Si. A van just pulled up in front of the target building.” There was a pause. “Looks like four targets. The puta who makes the deals, the one the captain says we must kill, and two others. Pistoleros most likely.” “I have them.” Philipe watched through the narrow world of the scope as their target unlocked one of the old bay doors and rolled it up. Nice trick with the boards. Making it look closed. Another lesson for us, maybe. Philipe was always looking for new tricks, new tactics. Ways to stay fresh when others went stale and used the same positions, the same methods. “Another vehicle just arrived. One of those big German sedans. Big and dark like the politicos like so much.” “That must be the buyer.” Philipe shifted the rifle a hair to bring them into view. The driver was a striking black woman, and the two buyers were white and black. He left his scope linger on the woman for a moment longer and then turned his mind back to business. “I’ve got them all sight. Confirm range at two hundred ten.” “Confirmed.” He felt Cruces shift beside him, turning his attention to their surroundings while Philipe owned the kill zone. The darkness shifted and then slipped away as the clouds parted and let the three-quarter moon bathe the area in its gold light. So often it was the little things that made the difference in shooting, and in the case the extra light let him see his targets better. The men were talking now, the striking woman hanging back a bit. There was little of the back-slapping and hand-waving he’d come to expect from traffickers. It looked more like a business meeting. The black man and the target did most of the talking, with the Anglo staying closer to the shadows. Something about him, maybe his black clothes, drew Philipe’s attention. He made a note to mention him in his report, see if they had anything on such a man. “We have company.” “What?” “The building two down and a story lower. If the moon had kept hiding her face I wouldn’t have seen them.” “How many?” “Two. They’re back in the shadows near the roof access door. They look to be snipers, corporal. One has a rifle.” “Really.” Philipe’s mind started working. Leaving his rifle in place for the message shot, he turned and reached out. “Glasses. Show me where they are.” Cruces handed him the binoculars and guided them with his hand. “Just over there, see? Don’t raise the glasses too much. The moon will betray you. That’s how I spotted them.” By the blessed Virgin. He’s right. Philipe could see two distinct shadows in a position not unlike their own, and a slender stick that could only be a rifle pointed toward the meeting. But they weren’t set to engage. “They’re watching. But for who?” “Do we deal with them?” “I’ll decide once I make the shot.” He handed back the glasses, knowing that he’d engage the other snipers no matter what. They’d need to if they wanted to get off the roof in one piece. But that was later. Now he needed to focus on the action below. The shot had to come at just the right moment. Sonny was already tired of the meeting. He never cared for Garcia, and his dealer contact, a greaseball who called himself Victor, wasn’t any better. If anything he was worse, strutting around and posturing like he was sitting on the Hope diamond instead of a few keys of suspect coke. And it didn’t help that he couldn’t shake the damned feeling. The drive over had been quiet, Trudy handling the big Mercedes like a pro and Rico mostly looking out the window at passing cars. The suitcase of buy money was still in the back seat, waiting for the preliminaries to stop and the business to begin. And then there was Victor’s two goons, punks right out of central casting who couldn’t decide if they wanted to be Scarface or made men. Anyplace else he’d be chuckling at them, but right now he was more worried about them accidentally shooting him or Rico or even Trudy. Maybe he’d get lucky and they’d shoot each other. He glared up when the moon broke through the clouds. It was bad enough being pinned down on the edge of Overton on a strip of abandoned businesses and crack houses, but extra light was the last damned thing he needed. Making a show of looked down at his watch, he turned back to Rico and snarled, “Can we get this show on the road? I got places I need to be.” “Easy, Burnett.” Rico’s voice was harder than he’d expected. “I got a couple of things to explain to Victor here if he wants to do regular business. The first being forty keys is just an introduction where I come from. And my associates would take it as an insult if that was the most you could offer.” Victor affected the same damned cowboy boots as Pancho and his boys, and he made a show of hitching up a pair of five hundred dollar designer jeans. “As you say, this is just an introduction. The supply troubles have been dealt with and everything is as it should be.” “What the hell’s going on down in banana land, anyhow?” Sonny pressed the opening. “I ain’t never seen it so screwed up as it has been the last few months.” Victor shrugged. “Some gang war. Who can say? They blame each other and then want to raise the price for inferior goods. Me? I find my own supply and tell the gangs to piss off. And now, as you say, the pieces they fall into place.” “Solid.” Rico smiled, shooting a warning glance at Sonny. “Now you show me yours and I’ll show you mine.” Sonny started to comment when the left side of Victor’s head vanished in a spray of blood, boned, and mashed brains. “Shooter!” He clawed the 4506-1 from his holster and dove behind the armored fender of the Mercedes, his brain calculating the rough position of the sniper based on the blood spray even before the boom of the shot reached his ears. “Down! Get down!” He was waving Trudy and Rico to cover when a second shot boomed out. But no one in the parking pad fell. Victor’s two men were statues, one of them puking his guts out at the sight of his dead boss, and Garcia had taken cover like the survivor he seemed to be. Then who…. His blood ran cold when he heard the scream. Philipe racked the Winchester’s bolt, trusting Cruces to recover the casing. He knew his shot had hit home, and that he had at most two seconds to follow up before they had to evade. Turning on his side, he braced the rifle with his off-hand and let the shadows on the other roof swim into focus through the scope. They were moving, and he could tell they’d pinpointed his rough location already. He let his breath hiss out between his teeth, emptying his lungs halfway, and then squeezed the trigger. At the sound of the shot Randy knew what had happened. “Sniper! Rooftop to our right!” He turned, ignoring the spotting scope and scrubbing for binoculars. He needed the wider field of vision to pick up a target. Any target. Dave turned, coming to one knee and searching with the rifle’s scope. “Target! Two twenty one floor up. Engage…” Time seemed to draw itself out into silver threads as Randy watched Dave pitch back, a dark stream of blood spurting from high on the right side of his chest as the bullet hit home and over-penetrated. His friend looked down, seeing the hole, and gasped. The rifle fell from his hands, clattering on tar paper and boards as it hit the roof. Then he fell, knocked back by the momentum of the bullet and his own shock. Randy didn’t even look for the rifle. Didn’t draw his own sidearm. Instead he pulled out the medic bag and started cutting Dave’s shirt away. The gaping wound bubbled, and he could hear sucking sounds from the punctured lung. He tore through the bag, fingers searching for a pressure bandage and something to cover the exit wound. He needed to keep the lung sealed and Dave out of shock. “I got you, man,” he muttered. “Just a scratch is all. Damned spent bullet and all that.” Dave’s eyes opened. “Don’t shit me, man. I seen you do this too much. It’s bad.” “Not that bad. Punctured lung and cracked ribs.” Randy grinned, hoping Dave couldn’t tell how much blood he was losing. “Now you just let me do my job.” “I shoulda seen that bastard.” “No, man. I’m the spotter. I shoulda seen that bastard.” Remembering the tactical radio, Randy keyed it and called for an ambulance. “10-13. Officer down. One critical. I repeat, critical.” He dropped the radio, hearing Lester echo the call and send it blasting over the airways. “Shit. It hurts, man.” “That’s good. Means you’re not in shock. And no, you ain’t gettin’ no morphine. So don’t ask.” Randy forced a low laugh as he pulled out another heavy bandage. Dave had already bled through the first one, and he couldn’t see enough to tell what was going on with the wound. The chase car picked them up a block away from the building. Philipe nodded to Captain Salazar. “The message was delivered, sir. We also engaged a sniper team observing the meeting.” “Really?” Salazar looked out the window at passing buildings as they took a roundabout path to the safe house. “Some of Victor’s men?” “No, sir. They were too professional for that. Cruces spotted them first and had them under observation while I delivered the message, but I think they were military-trained and not police.” “Explain.” “They were a sniper and spotter team. Gringo police here either shoot solo or have two shooters.” He paused for a moment. “And their reactions were fast. Almost too fast. They hadn’t spotted us and yet the sniper almost got off a shot.” “Thank you, corporal. Job well done.” Salazar nodded as the corporal smiled. But the captain’s mind had moved far beyond the message. If Philipe was correct, they might have finally found a trace of the mysterious unit the colonel was seeking. Reaching down, he picked up the tactical radio and keyed it. “Have a team locate the hospital the Gringo sniper was taken to. They’re to keep it under loose surveillance.” Felix’s calm voice echoed back. “Are they to act in any way?” “Find the hospital and check its security. Possibly determine his condition and identity. More orders will follow when we have more information.” He smiled as he set the radio down. It would be good to have something to give that ambitious whelp Orozco when he flew in. The red lights from the ambulance bathed the surrounding buildings in blood. Sonny paced back and forth like a caged animal, the big .45 still in his hand. Trudy was over with Randy, trying to keep the man from kicking the ass of one of the responding paramedics, and he wasn’t sure where Rico was. But he knew where Garcia was. Walking over to the crouching man, Sonny kicked him once in the ribs, then again. “What the hell do you mean this was a message? Don’t fuck with me.” “Man, you can’t do this. Ain’t you the police?” “Sonny Burnett, asshole. And if you don’t give me straight answers like yesterday you’ll be joining your good friend Victor over there. I hear they brought an extra body bag.” He heard Rico’s voice behind him. “Be cool, Sonny.” “Fuck cool.” His voice, Burnett’s voice, was flat and hard. “This punk knows something, and he’s going to tell me right now if he wants to live to see the sun rise.” “Look…Victor told me some guys came to see him. About the tax for moving product. He told them this was Miami not Columbia and he’d do whatever he wanted. Said he didn’t scare like those wetbacks they were used to pushing around.” Garcia sighed. “He never should have said no.” Sonny flicked the safety off the big Smith & Wesson. “My friend is over there bleeding to death, Garcia. Maybe I’m ready to send my own message.” “I swear I don’t know who they are.” His voice was almost a scream. “I just broker deals, Burnett. Hell, I ain’t never been to Columbia. But I did hear some of the other guys talking about them. At least I think they were talking about them. They shut up as soon as I came over. But they were scared. I mean piss your pants scared. One of ‘em said something about Ocho. You know, Eight.” Sonny turned and looked at Rico. “Like eight heads?” “Yeah! It was right after that. Man, the guys who came up before Moncado damned near lost their minds when that boat floated in.” Nodding, Sonny flicked the safety back on and holstered the big pistol. “Congratulations, Garcia. You’ll see the sun come up.” Turning, he headed toward the car. Rico caught up with him in two steps. “Listen, partner, you can’t…” Sonny turned, anger balling up inside him until it felt like it was going to burst through his chest. “No, I can, Rico. Dave’s in critical condition. Someone floated eight heads into our city. You really think rolling around like pretty boys and playing by the goddamned rules is going to stop these assholes? If we don’t hit them, they’re going to figure out who we are and hit us.” “I doubt it.” “I don’t. These are ruthless bastards, whoever they are. And they’re gonna look for the biggest threat and take it out. Look around, man! They don’t care who they hit. And I doubt if they can even spell restraint. You get up on that roof and you know what you’ll find? Nothing. Because these guys are that good.” He shook his head, feeling the quick rush of anger bleed away again. “Look, man. I don’t know what the answer is. But I do know we can’t just sit on our Goddamned hands. And if that means I have to kick a punk like Garcia a few times, you can bet I’ll be kicking.” “You think it ties back to Moncado?” “Not directly, maybe. Hell, I don’t know. But taking him out sure kicked off something.” Rico laid a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Sonny. I’ll pick Trudy up at the hospital. She rode in the ambulance with Dave and Randy. You need me to drop you at the marina?” “Yeah.” Turning, he waved for one of the Metro-Dade sergeants. “I’m gonna get them to sit on Garcia hard. We don’t need him selling anything he thinks he knows.” Then he thought of something and turned. “Let Randy know he can call anytime. He’s gonna need to talk, and I have a feeling he’ll only talk to another Marine.” Rico snorted. “It ain’t like I haven’t had family shot, too.” “I know, man. But…it’s hard to explain. He ain’t gonna want to talk about it, but he needs to. We’ve got that shared Corps experience, and Nam on top of that. Randy’s not gonna want to show pain to someone he thinks is an outsider.” “Yeah…like me not wantin’ to tell someone who isn’t a cop about Raphael?” “Pretty much.” Sonny looked at the dark splotch of blood on the concrete pad and shook his head. “I think the old days are gone forever, Rico. It’s a new game, and we need to have a hand in writing the rules.” Jenny was waiting on deck for him when we walked back to Tranquility from the end of the dock. “What’s wrong? Oh, baby. Who was it?” “Dave.” He climbed the gangplank without a word and stood looking out past her toward the stars. “He took a bullet through the lung. I don’t know much more. Randy’s with him.” He took a deep breath. “Tubbs sent me home.” “I’m glad.” She came over and put her arms around him, pulling his head down to her shoulder. “He wants to come out, doesn’t he?” Sonny nodded, knowing what she meant without saying a word. “I can feel him. Burnett.” Taking his hand, she led him below into the main cabin. The lights were low, bathing the teak in a soft yellow glow. “And you’ll need him close. If these people could hurt Dave, they’re bad. Very bad.” “Yeah.” His voice was soft. “I know. I kicked the crap out of a guy tonight trying to find out who they are. It goes against what I’m supposed to do. But…” “Burnett told you it was the best way?” She nodded. “I can feel you both. And…I can’t say Burnett is wrong. I spent years smuggling, Sonny. The right way doesn’t always work. I wish it did. But sometimes it just doesn’t. But I love Burnett. You know why? He’ll save your life. That part of you.” He nodded, only partly following what she said. But the tears in her eyes told him how much she believed what she said, and that was enough for him. “Yeah. Rico’s not too crazy about it, though.” “Rico doesn’t know. He hasn’t been to those places. I…I didn’t hesitate with Monaele or that man who came after Trudy. And Burnett won’t hesitate, either.” “No.” Sonny held her close, feeling her body against his. Letting her love wash over him. “He sure as hell won’t.” “Good. Because I need you to come home to me when this is done.” Shifting, she kissed him, her lips the touch of a ghost. “And now we need to lie down. I want to hold you.” Randy Mather knew he was pacing the waiting room like a caged mountain lion, but he didn’t care. He’d already almost punched out a security guard until they decided to just leave him alone. Trudy had stuck around for a time, but soon enough she and Rico had taken their leave. He knew he wasn’t good company. A nurse stuck her head through the double doors. “He’s still in surgery, deputy, but the doctor wanted me to tell you it’s looking good.” “Thanks, ma’am.” She smiled. “You might want to sit a bit and rest. He’ll be a bit yet, and then they’ll move him to recovery. You won’t be able to see him until then.” He smiled in spite of himself. “I expect you’re right. Hard to think of rest when your partner’s under the knife.” “I need to get back. But check with the ER nurse station. They have good coffee and the couch is comfortable.” Nodding his thanks, Randy turned and started down the hall. He knew just where the station was, and the thought of coffee was damned appealing. Not for the caffeine, but for the taste and the memories a cup of hot joe always conjured up for him. And maybe it would help settle the thoughts racing through his head. He knew the dangers of the ‘what if’ game. Hell, he relived them all the time thinking about the damned farmer with the hoe. But this was different. What if he’d swept that roof one last time? Filling a paper cup with dark brew, he settled into the couch and let his mind go. She was right. This is is damned comfortable. Still, he kept hearing the wet smack of the bullet as it tore into Dave’s chest. But that shot gave his brain a problem to wrestle with…something to push the smack away for a time. It had to have been a hurried shot, something snapped off on the fly once the other sniper spotted them. But it was also a damned good shot, which told him something about who they were stalking. The shot on Victor had been clear and sure, followed maybe two seconds later by a second shot that was almost as good. This guy’s a pro. Maybe military. I need to get up where they shot and look it over. See what they left. Randy knew they wouldn’t leave shell casings or prints. Not a shooter this good. But there would be signs for someone who knew what to look for. That would be his first stop once he knew Dave was out of the woods. He’d done what he could on the ambulance in, almost decking another EMT as he monitored the vitals and kept the wound sealed. The same former Army doctor who’d worked on Trudy when she’d been shot met them in the ER. “Sending me more work?” he’d snarled at Randy, but with a twinkle in his eye that let him know Dave was in good hands. It still bothered him. They’d come through Vietnam more or less without a scratch, survived time with the Butte PD and then years with the marshals. Only to get shot on some fucking rooftop just outside the ghetto. But he also knew something else. Finishing the coffee, he tossed the cup in a stainless steel trash can. He’d hung up the rifle years ago, but this meant it was time. No one would avenge Dave but him. He hadn’t seen the shooter the first time, but he’d sure as hell see him when it mattered. The last time. Captain Salazar looked over the rim of his cup at Javier Cruces. “So you think the Anglo was a transportation man?” “Si, captain. I do. It was clearly his car, and he stayed back while they were talking about the deal.” Cruces sat on the edge of his chair at almost perfect attention. He had good eyes and better instincts, and Salazar valued his interpretation of events. Philipe was a shooter. Good for punching holes and not so good at deciding what to punch holes in. “And the black one?” “A buyer. He had the money. And the woman was with the Anglo. She drove the car and kept back in the shadows like he did.” “Can we verify the information?” “Si, at least I think so. It may take a day or so, but there are few here who specialize in transportation, and the Anglo is…how do you say?” “Distinctive. Find out, Cruces, and report back to me.” Once the gangly private left the room, Salazar sank back in his chair and sighed. Last night’s operation had gone according to plan. The middleman had been taken into custody, although the buyer and the Anglo seemed to have escaped the net. But the presence of another sniper team nagged. Whose were they? Both Cruces and Philippe were convinced they’d been professionals, and likely military at one time. And the team checking the hospitals had yet to report back. If they were part of the colonel’s phantom unit, what had they been doing at the buy in the first place? That was the question that really nagged at Salazar. If they’d been trying to set up that puta Victor, who was the inside man? Garcia? The buyer? Or the Anglo Cruces thought was a transportation specialist? But he did know someone had been in the area last night. His men picked up some transmissions in the area during the operation. Weak, but there. From what they could determine the meeting had been monitored by someone, and the officer down call from the roof was a clear indication the snipers were somehow connected to the police. He hadn’t told his men about the call because they didn’t need to know all the capabilities of El Unidad, but it provided another piece for the puzzle. Finding the wounded man would go far toward settling the question, at least in his mind. But he had to move fast. Orozco was due in soon, and he knew the man would rather charge in than survey the terrain first. Any subtle work would need to be started or, if possible, completed before he came tramping through with his big boots making a mess of things. Salazar had lost track of the number of times he’d bailed the young hothead out back in the jungles and mountains during the bad times. But Orozco was loyal to a fault, and the colonel rewarded loyaty.

Rico managed to sit on his anger until they dropped Sonny back at the Ferrari. Then he let go. “What the hell was that shit all about? He’s lucky he didn’t break Garcia’s thumb or the damned deal.” Mindy laid her hand on his arm. “He’s in character, Rico.” “Yeah, but I think sometimes he enjoys it too much. And Garcia wasn’t screwing us around. He wants the deal as much as we do.” “Sure, but Sonny’s got a part to play.” She signed and looked out at the passing traffic. “Look, I don’t know if it was the right move or not. And I know there’s history there. But so far he’s made the right calls with Burnett. Maybe closer to the line than I’d like to go, but it’s his cover. And maybe…if the trade’s changing Burnett needs to change with it.” Rico nodded in spite of himself, letting her words sink in. She was right; there was history with him and Burnett. Most of the time he could separate that…keep it in check and remember it was his friend and partner playing a role. But sometimes…sometimes Sonny seemed to slip too deep into that role, going back to what he’d been when he’d tried to kill Rico in the old lighthouse. And she was right about things changing. Hell, the boat was proof of that. “Yeah. And he was right about the boat.” “So what do you think eight means?” “I don’t know, baby.” He looked over at her as he eased up to a stoplight. “But I do know that dress looks damned good on you.” She smiled, shifting so it rode down a bit more. “You think so? I almost think it doesn’t show enough.” “Keep that up and you won’t be wearing it much longer.” The light changed, and Rico forced his attention back to the street. “Do you think you can root around in those databases and see if there’s anything about the number eight? Especially from Columbia and maybe Peru.” “Sure.” She gave him the soft, teasing smile he’d learned to recognize as a promise of a wild night ahead. “But now I think you’d better take me home before I do something that might get us both arrested.” The next morning found Rico nursing a cup of Stan’s coffee and staring at the report form spooled in his typewriter. One more line and it was done, and then on to the buy money request. Looking at his watch, he frowned. It was almost ten and still no Sonny. It wasn’t like him to be late these days, at least not without a good reason. He was just putting the finishing touches on the buy money request when Sonny strolled into the office. He nodded to Rico and flopped down in his chair with a sigh. “Sorry. Had some stuff to take care of with Caitlin’s House.” “It’s cool. You shoulda said something last night.” Rico shook his head. He could see Sonny’s bloodshot eyes from where he sat and also noticed he was wearing the same clothes from the night before. “I got my report done an’ the buy money paperwork’s almost done, too.” “Yeah. Sorry.” Sonny shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “Rough night’s all.” “Trouble with Jenny?” “Naw. It’s all good there.” He shook his head again. “Just got a bit closer to Burnett than I wanted to last night.” “I wondered about that, partner.” Rico looked up from the form. “You cool?” “Yeah. I think so, anyhow.” He shook his head. “Slept on deck last night. Once I got to sleep. Took a bit of Black Jack to do it, though. Jenny understood. At least she said she did.” He smiled. “She said something about knowing my demons.” “Yeah.” Rico wasn’t quite sure what to say. He knew how he felt about that side of Sonny’s character, but he also had seen how damned useful it could be. The focused viciousness had helped them take down Menton when he’d come after Castillo and played no small role in many of their other big cases. But he’d never really thought about the toll it must take on Sonny. Digging up old memories and things he’d rather forget. Maybe if he hadn’t had that break and the whole Manolo thing it would be different. But it ain’t. I have to remember that. “You ever need to talk…” “Yeah. I know. It’s cool now, Rico. Just something about this case. And those damned heads. Who the hell sends a message like that? I get it, and it’s effective as hell, but how can you do that?” He grinned. “Even Burnett ain’t that cold-blooded.” “Or crazy. I asked Trudy to run another search. See if there’s anything buried in DEA stuff about this. I know they’re starting to see heads in Mexico, but…” “Miami ain’t Mexico.” Sonny ran his fingers through his hair, straightening it down a bit. “I’m gonna grab a shower and change. I should have done that before I came in.” He started to get up and stopped. “Did they get anything on the numbers from those M-16s?” “Not yet. Mindy’s expecting to hear back this afternoon.” “Let me know when she does. And I’m thinking we should see if we can run down that Carrera punk again. And maybe Pancho. And we gotta work up a plan for Garcia tonight.” Alone in the office again, Rico signed by the buy request and put it with the rest of his paperwork. He’d walk it over to Castillo in a minute, but right now he needed to get his head straight. Looking out the window at the murky blue sky promising another day of heat and humidity, he let his mind sort through everything. First on the list was Garcia’s meeting. That was damned clear. Had Sonny forgotten or was he just distracted by the Burnett fallout? Rico guessed distracted, but they’d need to put together a good plan. Something to deal with any number of variables. And they didn’t have much time. Maybe he’d have Sonny work up a plan while he checked with Stan to see what support Team Elvis could provide. Carrera and Pancho would have to wait. After that…well…he wasn’t sure what came after that. Things with Mindy were great, better than he deserved if he was honest with himself. He wasn’t sure what kept tugging at the back of his mind, but he’d learned long ago to trust that particular tug. Like Sonny and Dave and their spiders. Something big was coming, and he didn’t like not knowing what it was. The heat rose in shimmering waves through the eye of the telescopic sight. Dave Blair closed his eyes for a moment then refocused on the target far downrange. “Range 950.” Beside him Randy Mather looked through a powerful spotter’s scope. “Confirmed. Range 950.” The slim trigger of the Remington 700 felt familiar under his index finger, and the composite stock pressed tight against his cheek. It was all comforting, reassuring. An environment under his complete control. The rifle recoiled back into the pocket of his shoulder, the boom of the shot muffled by earplugs. “Hit.” “Confirm. Center ring.” Randy made a note in their range log. “Gonna go for more?” “Naw. I think it’s your turn.” Dave eased out from behind the rifle. He’d fired his ten and was happy enough with the results. “I need to get some spotter time.” He watched as Randy shrugged and got to his knees. They were shooting at one of the Metro-Dade ranges, using the longest lane available. He could see a cluster of Metro snipers at the next station over, trying not to look like they were watching and failing. He knew they usually ranged at maybe two hundred yards, and a few of them might be good out to four hundred. As far as they were concerned the two former Marines were shooting at the moon. Once they switched places, Dave noted the change on the range log and made some small adjustments to the spotting scope. “You going for the full range?” “Yeah.” Randy fed five rounds into the internal magazine of the rifle, leaving the bolt open until he was in position. “Might as well impress those shitheads over there.” Dave nodded, knowing what Randy meant. They’d be expecting Randy to be a worse shot because he was the spotter. They had no way of knowing the two men followed Marine Corps doctrine; Randy was the spotter because HE was the better shot. Peering through the scope at the range flags, Dave thought back to their time in Vietnam. It was hard not to when you were shooting in the same damned heat and humidity. He’d lost track of the number of times he’d longed for the dry, clear air of Montana. “Wind is about five from the west.” “Copy.” Randy settled in behind the rifle. Dave nodded, noting the wind on the log. He knew Randy was a better shot, but he also knew why his partner was almost never behind the rifle when they were in the field. It had been an impossible shot in dim light, and they both were sure the man had been carrying an RPG. Hell, even the grunts had sworn it was. But it turned out to be a hoe. The grunts’ LT had shit all over them, claiming he’d told them the man was unarmed. In the end it came to nothing after the company gunnery sergeant contradicted the LT’s testimony, but Randy had never taken another shot in the field again. Dave got it. Hell, he’d taken a bad shot or two in his time. But he’d always pushed through it. For some reason Randy couldn’t. But it didn’t make him think any less of his partner. It was after that incident he’d started working with the corpsmen, learning as much medic stuff as he could. And Dave had seen him run into situations other Marines wouldn’t go near. No, he understood Randy’s decision. And if anything it made him a better spotter. He was always sure of a target before he let Dave shoot. “Range me.” “Second target. Range 1000 on the nose.” “Confirm. One thousand yards.” They’d tacked a target onto a fifty gallon drum out at the very edge of the range’s far berm. No one knew quite why it was out there, but it made a good target stand. Dave adjusted the focus on the scope again and tried to peer through the shimmering heat waves. He could just pick it out, and he knew for Randy it wouldn’t be much more than a speck about the size of a postage stamp. “Target is confirmed.” There was a pause, and then the big rifle boomed. “Hit.” “Hit confirmed.” He couldn’t tell where, but from the way the barrel shuddered he knew there’d been a hit. A second shot echoed across the range. “Hit.” “Confirm.” Risking a look, Dave saw the knot of uniforms had grown next to them, and binoculars were trained downrange. A third shot. “Hit.” “Confirm.” He said it twice more and then paused. “Going for more?” “Naw. I think that did it.” Randy was still behind the rifle, the bolt back and thin smoke trailing from the open breech. “Clear!” Dave’s voice boomed out. “Don’t want those assholes shooting us while we get the targets.” “Yeah, but let’s take the pogue buggy.” They climbed into one of the range’s modified golf carts and chugged out to the far targets. Dave gathered his first, nodding at the ragged cluster of holes around the center ring. “Not bad.” Then they headed for Randy’s. He could see the police snipers moving to their spot as the cart made its way back across the range. One of them, a tall, rangy bastard wearing mirrored aviator sunglasses and an attitude, pointed as they came to a halt. “Let me guess. One hit each.” “Guess again, asshole.” Dave held up his target. “Must have been lucky. But I’ll bet you didn’t get one on the barrel. Spotters can’t shoot for shit.” Randy turned away, but Dave didn’t. He’d always been the quicker of the two to anger, and didn’t hold back this time. Dropping his target, he held up Randy’s, covering the five bullet holes with the palm of his hand. “Wrong again, asshole. You want me to set ‘em up again so you can show us how good you are? I bet you can’t hit the broad side of your wife’s fat ass at four hundred, let alone a grand.” He felt Randy’s hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man. He ain’t worth the trouble.” “You hotshots think you’re bad, don’t you?” Attitude man kept pushing it, coming closer. “One good range day and you’re the shit.” One of the other Metro snipers spoke up. “Ease off, Carter. These are Castillo’s shooters.” “And that means what? I don’t give a shit if they’re working for that damned greaser…” Whatever Carter had been about to say died as a squawk as Dave’s hand flashed out and closed around his throat. “That’s Captain Castillo to you, asshole. Disrespect him again and you’ll be answering to us.” Releasing his grip, he let the spluttering man fall to the hard ground. “He didn’t mean…” “Look. You boys go do your shooting and we’ll go about our business. We got no gripe with you.” Dave turned to glare at Carter as the man tried to get to his feet. “But this asshole best stay clear.” As they walked back to the truck, Dave heard Randy chuckle. “Not your day to make new friends, is it?” “Not with assholes. I ain’t never been good with assholes.” “Yeah.” They loaded the rifle and ammunition behind the front seats, and then Randy climbed into the driver’s seat. “I heard about that Carter back when we were working with the Metro SWAT unit before the Task Force. You were off covering a warrant team or some shit so I talked to some of their boys. Just to get a feel for ‘em in case we had to roll with them one day.” He cranked the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. “Anyhow, even they don’t like him. Ex-Army of some kind who sheds partners like a Husky in Arizona sheds fur.” “He’s just lucky I didn’t drop his ass right there.” “And I expect the others are explaining that to him now. Still, we’d better watch our step next time we hit the range. He’s a petty bastard.” Dave nodded, looking out the window and willing his anger to fade away. But it was hard. He hated assholes like Carter. Always had. They reminded him too much of the FBI pukes who’d refused to investigate his brother’s murder. One of their own, no less. He smiled at his reflection in the truck window. That had been one of the great ironies: Dave Blair, the guy with authority issues, joining the Marine Corps. The buzzing of the phone interrupted his thoughts. One of Stan’s new toys, the car phone let them stay in touch with the office…a blessing or a curse depending on your point of view and the time of day. Dave picked it up and hit the activation button. “Dave here.” Stan’s voice filled his ear. “You guys on your way back to the house?” “Yeah. Just got done at the range. What’s up?” “Sonny and Rico are meeting with that guy Garcia’s dealer tonight. They’re gonna need some overwatch, I think, but we don’t know where the meet’s going down. I’d like to have you two here to give some feedback.” “Roger that, sarge. We’ll be there in fifteen or so.” Dave hung up and repeated the conversation to Randy. “Well, shit. What does he expect us to do?” “Provide options I’d guess. I can see the boss and Rico wanting overwatch if we can provide it, but that’ll depend on where the meet goes down. Maybe if we pre-position somewhere and then shift once we know where the meeting’s going down…” “That’s an idea.” The two tossed ideas back and forth until they rolled into the cool shade of the underground garage. Captain Salazar waited until Hidalgo was done talking before he nodded. “So you feel they need another lesson?” “Si, captain. I do. But a focused one.” Hidalgo sat stiffly in his chair, almost like he was trying to remain at attention even while seated. “Those who know of us from Columbia and Peru have paid what was asked, but the others…they don’t understand how things will work.” “Moncado didn’t tax, did he?” “No, jefe. He did not. He ran his trade with his people and simply ignored others so long as they stayed away from his territory.” The man shifted in his chair. “One man in particular told us he wouldn’t pay no matter what and we should go fuck ourselves.” “Did he?” Salazar scratched at the stubble on his cheek. It took some getting used to, but if he wanted to fit in he needed to look the part. And apparently razors were rarely used in this part of the world. “Then we should show him what happens when you disrespect El Unidad.” “We have him under surveillance now. Cruces is keeping a loose tail on him and checking back with the boys for instructions.” He gestured toward the other room and the comms operators. “Outstanding.” Salazar sat for a time, sorting ideas in his head. “We’ve shown them we deliver a big message. Now we should show them we can be precise as well. Speak with Valderama. I’d like this to happen during the man’s next deal if we can determine when that is.” “Cruces thinks he’s working on one now. He’s been moving from pay phone to pay phone, and that’s what these people do when they’re coordinating a buy.” “Good. Stand by with Valderama and take him out. If we can do that during his deal I think the message will have more impact.” Hidalgo nodded several times. “Si, jefe. It will be so if we can do it. I just hope I can see their faces when Philipe delivers the message.” Salazar nodded, worried he’d been forced to tip his hand too soon. But a challenge like that to El Unidad’s authority could not go unanswered. Not if they wanted to replicate their success here. Especially with Lieutenant Orozco and more men due in next week. He didn’t much care for Orozco, but better the young hothead than Sergeant Major Pascal. Rodrigo Delacruz smiled and set down his coffee cup. “Come in, lieutenant. I trust you’re ready for your trip north?” “Of course, sir.” Victor Orozco was one of the newer breed of officers turned out by the national academy and the Gringos’ training programs: ambitious, ruthless, and willing to obey any order given to him by his superiors. Rodrigo didn’t quite trust him, but he counted on Salazar to keep an eye on the man in El Notre. “You’ve read Captain Salazar’s report, but I want to be sure you understand what you’re walking into. Miami is a different environment than you’re used to. It’s not as, how did the Gringos put it, as permissive as we’re used to. A certain discretion is required.” “With respect, sir, the captain might not have the best view…” “Oh, but he does, lieutenant. The Gringos trained him before the exchange freeze. He’s operated in their land before. You do not buy the police there like you do here. Your big displays must be limited and precise.” He paused, taking a sip of coffee. “And we need to find that damned special unit. If they took out Moncado they are a threat to us.” Orozco’s face twisted into a confused smile. “What do we do when we find them, sir?” “Eliminate them. Another message.” Rodrigo smiled at the confusion on the lieutenant’s face. “One thing I have learned over the years is the value of an effective message. And if this unit exists, eliminating it will send a powerful message to both dealers and the Gringo law enforcement people.” “But won’t the Gringos come after us with all their power?” “No. The other thing I have learned is the value of misdirection. If we eliminate them, but make it seem like someone else did…” “Ah. I see.” No. You likely do not. But it’s of no concern to me. So long as you follow orders. “Good. Pick your team well. Our time will be limited. I suspect we’ll need the captain and his specialists back here soon enough.” That part was true. Salazar was his best analyst, and he’d taken his top signals people with him to El Notre. Things were running well enough with his backup team, but Rodrigo understood keeping his rear areas secure. Once Orozco left, he pushed a button on the intercom on his desk. “Send in the sergeant major.” Sergeant Major Gordo Pascal was a different kind of solider entirely from the polished Orozco. Thick and peasant-mean, Pascal had clawed his way up through the ranks to become Unit 8’s senior enlisted man and chief interrogator. The man who did the hard things, without question or remorse. As he snapped to attention in front of the desk, dark eyes fixed at a point somewhere beyond the bulletproof glass of the window, Rodrigo knew he needed him, or someone like him, to keep things rolling. But that didn’t mean he had to like him. “At ease, sergeant major.” “Does the colonel have a question?” Rodrigo fought back a smile. Pascal was of the old school. “Report, Gordo.” “As the colonel requested, we are letting cargo move through our zone of control again. The men continue to collect as ordered, with examples being made as needed. So far there has been little need. The peasants know their place, sir.” “What examples have been set?” “A boat crew in Santa Rosa refused to pay the tax. They were burned alive and propped in their boat with placards warning about disobeying Ocho.” Pascal recited the acts as if he were reading a menu. “The staff at one of Ordonez’s labs refused to make their payment. The lab was destroyed by one of Sergeant Jemenez’s teams and the heads arranged in a figure eight.” The stocky man grinned. “Ordonez sent a message along with his payment claiming it was a misunderstanding.” “I’m sure he did. Watch that one closely, sergeant major. Maybe remind him he has a family he should be worried about.” “As the colonel wishes.” “Thank you, Gordo. Dismissed.” Once the sergeant major left the room, Rodrigo allowed himself an indulgent smile. Things were going well. The money was rolling in, faster now that he’d allowed traffic through their zones of control to begin again in earnest. It was all about supply and demand. So long as demand showed no sign of dropping he could charge more or less what he liked for supply. Competition was always a threat. But he didn’t worry too much about that. One or two smaller groups had tried, only to end up as messages laid out in village squares, warehouse floors, or occasionally on docks. Whatever it took to get El Unidad’s point across. He’d even adopted the peasant Ocho as their own, although personally he hated the shorthand. It make for good marketing, as Orozco liked to point out in his more intelligent moments. Finishing his coffee, Rodrigo got to his feet and walked to the wide window. They’d come so far since those dark days in the high mountains and jungles. And now they were on the verge of taking control of one of the richest trade routes the world had ever known. At one point he’d almost mourned the loss of the Bolivian contract, but now he was grateful. Why settle for a piss-ant country when you could have something so much bigger? Sonny Crockett shook his head. “I’m still not sure about this.” Rico nodded. “That makes two of us. But we ain’t got much of a choice. Until we know where this damned deal’s going down we have to stay loose.” Sonny stared at the street map, placing all their known overwatch positions in his head. “And we got no idea where he’ll send us?” “I’ve only done a couple of small deals with Garcia. And since he’s a middleman it’s never his stash.” Stan cleared his throat. “I’ve got Dave and Randy in the Roach Coach with Lester. He can drop them just about anywhere once we have a location. The number Rico gave him traces back to a hotel near the airport. That’ll give us at least fifteen minutes in just about any direction if he tries to spring a fast deal.” “Yeah. I know.” Sonny kept staring at the map, feeling the spiders shifting up and down the back of his neck. Something was off, and not knowing what it was made the whole damned thing worse. He was about to bitch some more when the phone rang. Rico snatched it up on the third ring. “Hello? Speaking, mon. Righteous! I get Burnett and we’ll be there.” “So what’s the deal?” “His guy’s ready to deal. Still don’t know who the hell he is, though. But that’s how Garcia played it the other two times. It’s his insurance.” “Where?” Castillo came out of his office almost on cue. “West end of Overton. There’s an old auto parts store this guy uses as a drop spot. It’ll be by land, so we’ll take the Caddy.” Rico grinned. “Forty keys ain’t gonna fit easy into the Ferrari.” “No, but then you don’t need Burnett.” Castillo nodded. “Take the blue Mercedes down in the garage. Mindy has the keys. It’s been fitted out with compartments and a phone.” Sonny nodded. “Good thinking, Marty.” He grinned. “Trudy, you feel like playing Peaches tonight?” Trudy stuck her head out of her office. “Sure. Let me guess, you need a driver.” “Somethin’ like that.” Sonny nodded, still feeling the tickle on his neck. “And another set of eyes.” “Gotcha.” She came out and looked at the map. “That’s a nasty spot he picked out. Just on the edge of a lot of bad stuff. Plenty can go wrong there.” “Stan, get the location to Lester and have him get in position. Randy and Dave can go overwatch if they want or they can stay with the van. Their call.” Stan nodded. “They’ve got at least two spots in that grid.” Turning, he headed for the Tech Room’s radio. “The buy money is ready.” Castillo looked from Sonny to Rico and back. “Are you sure about this?” “Something doesn’t feel right, captain. I gotta say it. But like Rico said, we don’t have much choice. This guy’s our only in until we can find Pancho or maybe Carrera.” He looked at the map. “But something…” Trudy walked over and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, but what can we do?” “Not much. And speaking of that, did you ever hear back on the numbers from the M-16s?” “Not yet, but I did notice something going through the paperwork. They’re awful close to the ones we recovered from those two John Does at the warehouse.” “Maybe they shop at the same corner market.” Rico chuckled. “You been in the sun too long, partner? That cracker Hector wouldn’t sell to them. No way.” “Unless they got them from Holmes before he got checked into the dirt motel.” Sonny let the information rattle around in his head. It was odd, finding M-16A1s in that close of a serial number sequence. Trudy nodded. “I’m gonna go change and get into bad-ass chick character. Let me know when you’re ready to roll.” Sonny just nodded, still staring at the map. “We can call off the buy.” Castillo’s voice was matter-of-fact. “We don’t need the case. Hand it off to Metro-Dade Narcotics and give their lieutenant to score points on OCB.” “No. Hell, it’s our case. I just wish I could put my finger on what was bugging me about it.” Rico nodded. “Part of it’s that crap with the heads and the eight. Garcia knows more than he let on. Hell, that chump always knows more than he lets on. But it’s an unknown, and a nasty unknown.” Castillo nodded. “I’ve asked some people questions. So far I don’t know much more than you do. Some new group down south started taxing transportation routes. There’s talk they started as a security force for one of the major producers in Peru and ended up taking over his business. There must be more to it, because some of the information is slow in coming. I’ll keep asking, and the chief deputy is doing the same.” “Hell, we’re run into security forces before. Moncado had damned near a private army going.” “Yes, but this feels different. Some of it is very familiar.” Sonny nodded. “Nam.” “Yes. In some ways. There’s a method here for sure, not random viciousness and not something tied to religion or ritual.” Castillo looked down, then locked eyes with them both. “Be careful tonight.” “We will, captain.” Sonny felt his mind shifting gears, sliding back into the darkness of Burnett. And he didn’t fight it. He needed that edge tonight. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted it close to hand.

Captain Eduardo Salazar looked around the apartment and sighed. It wasn’t much, but that was its advantage. Let the stupid Columbians live it up and draw attention. El Unidad would be different, drawing attention not by how they lived but by how their targets died. Since arriving in El Notre he’d set up one room of the four room apartment as a communications center. There was nothing he could do about the phones, but his radio equipment had been arriving in bits and pieces and was almost ready to go into operation. The two operators, Felix and Antonio, were in place as well. Salazar smiled. Already they’d started plotting the frequencies used by the local policia and some Federal agencies as well. The FBI hadn’t bothered to change their frequencies since his men had trained with them in Quantico, and he silently thanked them for their laziness. DEA would be harder, but Felix had trained with them back home and was confident he could get it down. ATF wasn’t worth the trouble, but he told them to scan just the same to see if they could crack that nut, too. Antonio walked into the room with a smile on his face. “Boss, you should see what these fools sell in shops! I got everything we needed at this place called Radio Shack. I’ll let the boys back home know to stop the next shipment. I even found some things we didn’t have back with El Unidad. Give me a week and I will have this town mapped as far as law enforcement signals go.” “All good. But don’t forget the jefe wants this phantom unit. Proof it either exists or does not. And coordinate with Corporal Hidalgo as well. Eyes are as important as ears.” “Si, boss. He should be back any minute.” Salazar sighed. “Send him to me when he arrives. We need a ground surveillance plan.” In so many ways he felt blind here. Back home, you could count on a frightened peasant or cowed narco to let you know what was going on. Here…things were different. He needed to know who might have heard of El Unidad and might be of use to them. The boat should have been a clear message they were in business, but he might need to send a reminder. At least things were sorted out back home when he left. The drugs the damned Gringos wanted so badly were starting to flow again, meaning this phantom unit might raise its head again. He admired the colonel’s drive and tenacity, but there were times he wished the man were a bit more flexible. They could make millions just sitting on the southern end of the pipeline. Why come north? The operational environment was much harder, and he wasn’t sure the rewards were great enough to offset the risk. But it wasn’t his place to question Colonel Delacruz. That he understood very well. When Hidalgo came in he was ready. “Report, corporal.” “Private Cruces and I have made contact with two runners who know of El Unidad, or Ocho as they call us. They’re scared. They knew exactly what the boat went and are jumping at their own shadows. One of them might have lost a brother in one of our Columbian actions.” Hidalgo grinned. “I didn’t care to check, but he’s especially fearful. And they both talk.” “Good. Use them as eyes.” “Of course, boss. Do we let them know we are from El Unidad?” “Not directly. But if they begin to loose focus, kill the one who is less afraid. In front of the other one.” “Si. That should settle in his mind the question of who were are.” Hidalgo smiled again. “I did the same thing back in Resaca with great success.” Salazar nodded. He remembered Resaca; a little village in the mountains with a guerrilla problem. At least until Unit 8 arrived on the scene. Hidalgo had been one of the small advance team sent to prepare for their arrival. They were greeted by a totally cowed peasant population and eight heads on posts on the road leading into the village. Hidalgo shrugged when Sergeant Major Pascal asked about them and said the people had needed a lesson in obedience. He also said four of the heads were guerrillas. But it was also at Resaca that a little voice started whispering in the back of his mind that maybe they’d gone too far. It was just a whisper, often drowned out by the whirr of the machines counting the money they’d made after leaving government control. But it never quite went away. Shaking his head, he banished the whisper. “Get to work, corporal. I want a better operating picture before I send the first report to the boss.” From what he’d seen so far, Miami was open for the taking for a group like El Unidad. The traffickers here were fat, lazy, and didn’t know fear. He knew how to change that. They were about a mile from the warehouse when Stan pulled over to run a final radio check. The heavy overcast threatened rain, and he hoped it held off until they were done with the deal. The truck’s big V-8 thumped under the hood, and he grinned over at Randy. “Can you believe Crockett didn’t want this ride?” “He don’t get some things, sarge. A good truck is one of ‘em.” Randy retuned the grin, his arm resting on the doorframe. “And I got ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ ready to roll as soon as we get close. Gotta keep that image up.” Nodding, Stan raised his wrist. “Position check.” Lester’s voice came through first. “Good.” Brick followed. “Good.” Then Castillo’s clipped tones came over the radio. “Execute on my authority. Good luck.” Stan pulled the earpiece out and dropped the truck back into gear. He hated going in deaf, but there wasn’t much option. Reaching under his jacket he felt for the butt of his Browning, seeing Randy doing the same with his custom .45 out of the corner of his eye. “Let’s go to work.” It was just before midnight when they rolled onto the cracking concrete pad in front of the old warehouse. Stan blinked the headlights and nodded as an answering flash came from inside. Cutting the engine he jumped out of the cab. “Skaggs! Where the hell are you?” “We left that limp-wrist back at the bar.” Rusty sauntered into the open, followed closely by Hector. Like he’s got his hand up Rusty’s ass making him talk Stan thought with a grin. “We don’t need some punk to do our deals.” “Neither do we.” Randy came around the side of the truck. “You got the hardware?” “If you got the cash.” “Damned straight. But I wanna make sure we’re gettin’ the real thing and not some damned knock-off.” “Yep.” Rusty snapped his fingers and Mutt came out of the dark warehouse with two M-16s. He was carrying them with the handles, and the magazine wells were empty. “Have a look-see and then I’ll give you a mag each so you can test ‘em.” Randy snatched up one of the rifles with a practiced grab and tossed it to Stan, taking the other one and giving it a thorough inspection. Stan followed suit, although he left the serious work to Randy. He ran the bolt, tested the hold-open, and worked the selector through all three positions to make sure nothing was blocked. There was a click as Randy dry-fired his M-16. “Give me a mag.” Reaching into his jacket, Rusty pulled out a box magazine and tossed it over. “Only ten rounds,” he said. “No reason to get crazy.” “Nope.” Randy slammed the magazine home, pulled back to the operating handle, and shouldered the rifle. One shot cracked off, and then he flipped the selector and sent the other nine into the dirt embankment on the far side of the lot. “Good,” he said as he lowered the smoking rifle. “Give yours a test, Biggs.” Stan nodded, repeating the actions Randy had just completed. He’d fired M-16s a few times on the range, and could at least do the basics without hurting himself or looking like an ass. Once he fired off his ten he lowered the rifle. “We’ll take ‘em. You got the Berettas, too?” Mutt turned and ambled back into the darkness, returning with two wooden crates. “Right here,” he announced, setting them on the ground. Nodding, Randy turned back to the truck and pulled out a gym bag with the Harley logo stitched on the side. “It’s all there. Fifty-four grand. Ten each for the Mattel wonders and four total for the ten Berettas.” Rusty nodded, looking back at Hector for a moment. “Cool. You an’ me will count. Biggs, you wanna help Mutt an’ Hector with the guns?” “Sure.” Stan handed his M-16 to Randy and started for the warehouse. Hector and Mutt had already moved, and came out lugging a long wooden crate. Hector looked up. “Five in this one, three and the two you boys have in the other. The Berettas are all in ones Mutt dropped.” “Cool. I’ll grab them if you two don’t mind lugging the 16s?” “All good, bro. Say, you think you’ll be needin’ more American-made firepower up in the Panhandle?” “Could be. So long’s it’s American-made.” “More where this came from, bro.” Randy looked up as soon as Rusty finished counting the last bundle of bills. “Well give my regards to Uncle Sam. This stuff’s top shelf.” Not ten seconds later figures materialized from the darkness, their faces obscured by the monoculars of night vision gear. There were ten of them, big forms in black fatigues carrying black carbines and shotguns. Their flack vests had ATF stenciled on them in yellow, and the first man’s voice was a boom. “ATF! Show me your hands. NOW, assholes!” Stan raised his hands and glared over at Hector. “It had to have been that bitch Skaggs. An’ you didn’t bring him along.” Tiny loomed out of the darkness, his big hand driving Stan to his knees with just enough force to make it look real. “Well, well. Biggs. We been lookin’ for you, asshole.” “So’s your old lady.” Stan grunted for effect as the shotgun came around and just missed his head. “You won’t be laughing when you’re doing Federal time. Asshole.” Tiny was fighting back a smile as he slapped on the cuffs, and from the corner of his eye Stan could see another of the team doing to same to Randy. There was a thud as Brick dropped Mutt with a well-placed MP-5 buttstroke and cuffed the stunned man. “Anyone else gonna get cute? Didn’t think so.” He raised a tactical radio. “Scene secure. Bring in the transports and forensics. We got a good one.” Tiny herded Randy and Stan away from the others. “Biggs and Patch. You got some FBI warrants. Bank robbin’ bad asses. They want to talk to you. I’ll bring these two on ahead.” Brick nodded. “Copy that. Take the first transport. We’ll sit on these assholes.” Once they were in the dark van, Tiny undid the cuffs. “Sorry if they were a bit tight.” Stan laughed. “No worries. You had to sell the role. And you did damned good.” Randy rubbed his wrists and grinned. “Shame about Skaggs. They’re gonna chop him into little bits.” Tiny shook his head. “Naw. The captain had him picked up right before you rolled into that warehouse. You boys want to head back to the task force office?” “Yeah. Castillo’s gonna want to debrief right away.” Stan smiled again, looking out the back windows at the mile markers flashing by. It was just before three when they all assembled at the conference table, just about everyone fighting off yawns. Stan looked around and cleared his throat. “I’ll make this quick. Everything went according to plan. We got ten M-16s and ten M-9s in that haul, and they all look to be US military issue. Trudy’s gonna run the numbers in the…I mean later this morning and see if we can figure out where they came from. Lester and I will get the tape ready for the AUSA, but it sounded like Hector could get more M-16s without much notice if someone needed them. Either than or he’s sitting on a bigger haul and is piecing it out.” Castillo looked around the table and nodded. “Outstanding work, everyone. Tiny, convey my thanks to the rest of your team. I’ll write it up for the chief deputy later today. Now go home and get some sleep. We’ll start late tomorrow.” Stan was still riding the adrenaline high when he pulled into the apartment complex parking lot, so he sat for a minute in the Caddy, listening to the engine tick as it cooled and feeling his heart rate drop back to normal. Busts were always a rush, even more when you were on the inside looking out. Brick’s team were pros. No question. He was just glad they were on his side. Gina was still up, sitting on the couch with a three ring binder open on her lap. “You didn’t need to stay up, babe,” he said as he locked the door and shrugged out of his biker colors. “No, but I wanted to. I don’t sleep well when you’re on one of these.” She smiled, and he saw the Caitlin’s House logo on the cover of the binder as she closed it and got to her feet. “Did Team Elvis score again?” “Of course, darlin’,” he said in his best mush-mouth Elvis impersonation. “The King always scores.” Then he grinned. “Not a shot fired, either.” He nodded toward the binder. “Still getting ready?” “Going through it one last time. We’re sending three girls there in the next couple of days and I wanted to be sure in my mind.” “Yeah. With Sonny you just never know.” He raised his hand. “I know. He’s changed. But it’s old habits. I still find myself checking from time to time just to make sure stuff’s done. And that’s after I’ve seen him do it.” “This is mostly Angie and Jenny, though.” Gina smiled. “Who would have thought Jenny would turn out to be some kind of financial wizard?” “Or Angie.” Stan sat down on the couch, the post-rush crash washing over him. “To be honest, she still scares me.” “Did you guys get that case with heads? It was all over the news.” “Naw. The file got sent our way, but Homicide’s still screwing around with it. And I hope they keep it. That one’s just weirdsville as far as I’m concerned. Like that voodoo stuff we looked into a few years back.” “Sanataria, Stan. Not voodoo.” She smiled and sat down next to him. “But I can see why it would remind you of that.” She rested her head against his shoulder, and then started slipping lower. “And speaking of voodoo.” “You gonna put a spell on me?” He watched her head slip lower and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you are.” Sonny looked in the mirror and wondered what the hell had happened. How things had changed so much in so short a time. Three years ago that same bust might have turned up some Mini-14s and cheap Llama semi-autos. But they’d hauled in U.S. military hardware last night. And not just one or two weapons. He shifted a bit so he could see Jenny’s naked back in the mirror and smiled. It hadn’t all been bad. Castillo had given them a morning pass, and he’d spent most of it in bed with Jenny. Now it was time to go to work. There was the meeting to work out tonight with Garcia and maybe figuring out how to get back in contact with Carrera. And maybe figure out where the hell Pancho was hiding out. Toweling his hair one last time, he pulled on a light coral Henley and tucked it into his gray linen slacks. It was Burnett lite today, and least until showtime at Electro. Slipping on the leather shoulder rig, he checked his Smith & Wesson before snapping it into the left side holster and stuffing two loaded magazines in their right side pouches. All that was left was a light pair of shoes and a gray blazer and he’d be ready to go. Jenny pouted as she watched him dress. “Do you have to go in? It was so nice this morning I wanted to keep doing it all day.” “Darlin’, I hate to say it but I do need recovery time.” He grinned. “That and Marty would kick my ass if I missed my own operational briefing.” “Well…I don’t want you to get your ass kicked, so you can go. But you owe me.” “And what exactly do I owe you?” She got off the bed and sauntered over, her firm body on full display. Going on her tiptoes she whispered in his ear. “You’re kidding.” “No. That’s what you owe me.” She smiled and kissed him. “Maybe you’ll come home early.” “If I can you bet I will.” He smiled, feeling his cheeks warming. “But it won’t be my fault if I’m late.” “Then you might owe me that twice.” She giggled. “I’ll decide when you get home.” Rico was already in the office when Sonny got there. “About time you showed up, partner.” “Yeah, well…someone didn’t want me to leave.” “Yeah, we didn’t want to, either. But duty calls and all that.” Rico chuckled. “And I don’t want Castillo showing up on my doorstep.” “You and me both.” Sonny sat down with a groan. “Anything new on last night’s bust?” “Stan’s finishing the paperwork, but it doesn’t sound like it. Those chumps ain’t talking, at least not about anything important. I’m staring to think they just lifted the goods from one of Homles’s stashes and went into business for themselves.” “Could be. But we know that clown had at least two contacts that could get military hardware, and I think ATF only rolled up one of them.” Sonny shook his head. “But we gotta worry about Electro tonight. You got Teddy ready to roll?” “Righteous, mon. You bet we ready to roll.” Rico grinned. “Mindy wanted to know if she was coming.” “No objection from me, but you know how you like to have Teddy roll when he’s making deals.” “Yeah. I ain’t made up my mind yet, honestly. It’s good, but at the same time Teddy does roll solo most times on deals. You bringing Peaches again?” “Naw. I scared him once with Trudy. No reason to do it twice. That and Burnett’s mostly a solo act.” Sonny looked down at the folder on the desk, knowing Rico was watching him. But it was true. Burnett was a solo act. One that was damned close to the surface again. And he wasn’t sure why. But something about all this just didn’t feel right, and he knew Burnett’s thought processes might help him figure out what was bothering him about the whole situation. “You gonna bite if Garcia tosses a bone?” “Depends on what it is and how big it is.” Rico scratched his chin. “You think he’d try to pop a deal tonight?” “I don’t know. Things are off out there, partner.” Sonny absently flipped open the folder before he realized it was the photos of that damned go-fast with the heads. “Like this crap. I mean, who the hell does…” He paused, looking at the wide-angle photo again, but with Burnett’s eyes. The vicious eyes. “Rico, look at this, partner. What does it say to you?” Rico came around the desk. “That some sharks ate damned well that night?” “No, man. Look at it closer.” “I just see eight heads, Sonny. And some sick chumps running around out there.” “No…look past that. Look at how they’re arranged.” Rico peered at the picture again and nodded. “Yeah…I see it now. Eight heads arranged in a figure eight. You think it means something?” “Hell, it has to. They didn’t just fall that way. Someone took the time to set them up like that, and so they’re all looking in the same direction. This is a damned message of some kind.” Castillo sat in silence as Sonny repeated his theory. “You think I’m full of crap, don’t you, Marty?” “No. I think you’re right. How did we miss this?” “We just saw the heads. Hell, I missed it just like everyone else. It was only when I looked at it…like Burnett…that I saw the eight.” “Why him?” “I don’t know. I just flipped the folder open and then my mind started asking questions. What did it mean? And that’s when Burnett gave me the answer. It had to be a message. And once I got that, I saw the eight. And it’s no accident.” “Have you told Homicide?” “No. I wanted to see if you thought I was crazy first.” Castillo’s smile was thin. “Pass it along to them. Use your rank. It’s still their case, but that might give them something to work with. I hear they’re coming up empty otherwise.” He pushed the folder back across the desk. “What’s your plan for Garcia?” “Rico’s going in as Teddy Prentiss, of course. We’ll have some small buy money in his car just in case we need it, but the plan’s not to complete a deal tonight. We might bring Deputy O’Laughlin along as cover and support, but that’s a call we’ll make as it gets closer to go time. I’ve already coordinated with Stan and Lester for comm support. Mather and Blair will be in the Roach Coach if we need firepower, but I’m not anticipating anything big out of this one.” “Do you need his whole team?” “No. We can get by easy with just Lester, or Stan if it’s his night. And if Mindy goes in with us we wouldn’t need Dave or Randy.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah, we need to start giving them some down time. I’ll let Stan know so he can work it out.” “Good. You can brief me in the morning.” Back in the main room, Sonny found Stan updating the tap map on the conference room wall. “Stan, we’ll just need comm coverage tonight. One guy in the Roach Coach if that works.” “Yeah. I drew the short straw so it’s me tonight. You need anyone else from Team Elvis?” “Naw. We might take Mindy in as Rico’s date. And besides it’s just Tony Garcia. We aren’t aiming for a buy tonight, just an introduction.” It was just after ten when the big Caddy rolled into Electro’s parking lot. Sonny was settled in the wide back seat, enjoying watching Rico and Mindy settle into their roles. As usual Rico was decked out in a wild floral shirt and more gold chains than should be allowed by law, and Mindy had settled on a little black dress that started just above her nipples and ended just below the curve of her backside. He just hoped it would distract the doorman from her clutch, heavier than it should be due to the custom .45 tucked inside. Then he grinned. He’d just turn Burnett loose on the guy at the door if he got too nosey. He was there, all right. Sonny had felt him bubbling up on the drive over, settling into the cold line of his jaw and the empty expression in eyes hidden behind dark Ray Bans. The Henley was gone, replaced at the office by a black button-up shirt that matched his black blazer. He found his eyes flicking from place to place, sizing up everyone and everything as a possible threat. It was time to go. “Let’s do this,” he said in a flat voice. Rico nodded, taking Mindy’s arm and launching into Teddy patter. “Righteous, pretty lady! They got the beats here melt your heart, seen? We gonna get down tonight!” The thug at the door started to move until he locked eyes with Sonny. “Good evening, Mr. Burnett. You all together?” “What’s it look like?” “Sorry, sir. Head on in. Have a good time.” Once they were in, Mindy turned back. “You know him?” “He loaded trucks back with the Manolo organization. Didn’t think the ape had that much memory.” Sonny kept his eyes moving, glad the glasses protected them from the bouncing strobes. “Our boy’s at the bar. Just past the waitress station.” “Got him.” Rico pushed through the crowd, his shout audible over the thundering bass. “Tony! Mon!” Garcia turned. “Teddy! What it is, bro! Let’s grab a table.” His expression changed as he spotted Sonny. “Mr. Burnett. Glad you could make it. She with you?” “No. She’s Teddy’s girl. Let’s get this done.” Looking through the swirling crowd and flashing lights, Sonny caught sight of a skinny little rat slipping out of a booth seconds before Garcia pointed. “This way. We’ll talk back here.” But he didn’t get the familiar sensation of spiders on the back of his neck. Instead it was a cold hand moving through his chest and touching his eyes. He followed Rico and Mindy, his hand shifting to it was close to his blazer button. Ready to go for the big .45 with a heartbeat’s notice. As soon as they sat down, he turned his full Burnett look on Garcia. “Why don’t you have your buddy join us, Tony?” “Who? I…” “Don’t play stupid with me, Tony. You know better than that. I saw the little rat you had holding the table. Makes me wonder how many other little rats you got hiding in this dump. Just remember on thing…the rats jump, you’re the first one who goes down.” Rico unleashed his booming Teddy laugh. “Tony! Why you do this thing, mon? Teddy’s cool. Teddy’s always cool. Ain’t that right, my beauty? An’ you know rattling Burnett’s cage isn’t the best way to live to a ripe old age, seen? So send your crew home, mon, an’ let’s talk business.” Garcia swallowed several times, and for a moment Sonny thought the little punk might stroke out. Then he stood up and made a throat-cutting motion with his right hand. The rat from the booth peeled himself away from a dyed blonde almost wearing some kind of silvery dress and headed for the door. As he watched a second man did the same thing. “Ok, guys. That’s all of them. A guy can’t be too careful these days.” “Just two? Jesus, Garcia. I’m almost insulted.” Sonny leaned back in the booth, his eyes still sweeping the crowd. “Now was that so hard, mon? Now we get drinks an’ you tell me about the righteous deal you found for Teddy Prentiss.” Rico waved for a waitress, using a fifty to get the attention of at least two of them. One side of Sonny’s mind was aware of Rico and Garcia making small talk while they waited for the drinks, but the other remained focused on Electro. It was hard not to, given the thunder of the bass through the club’s sound system, but he also wasn’t convinced Garcia had sent off all his men. Or people, for that matter. Who said the little bozo didn’t have a woman or two on the payroll? He hadn’t been surprised by the idea of Burnett having a woman run his security, which hinted to Sonny he might be doing the same thing. He brought his attention back once the drinks arrived and Rico got down to business. “You say you’d have something for Teddy. What you bring, mon?” Reaching over he gave Mindy a squeeze. “You see we have better things to do tonight, mon.” Garcia nodded, his attention fixed on Mindy and what she was almost wearing. “That I can see, Teddy. She got a sister?” Without thinking, Sonny’s hand flashed out. “Don’t disrespect the lady, Garcia.” His fingers locked around Garcia’s thumb and twisted, cranking his hand and arm around. Garcia let out a sharp squeal. “Ok…ok…Burnett. Jesus!” “Apologize to the lady.” Sonny didn’t let go of the thumb. “Sorry…I meant no disrespect.” “That’s better.” Sonny let go of his thumb, and grinned as Garcia started rubbing it and grimacing. “Now tell Teddy here what you brought him.” “See…here’s the thing. It’s still jammed up down south. Getting better from what my people say, but that damned boat of heads put the wind up some of the dudes around here.” “How’s that, mon? I hear it more about some old score.” “I don’t know who you been talkin’ to, Teddy. But I hear it’s more than that.” Garcia quit rubbing his thumb. “It’s got some of the more dependable guys laying low.” “Names, Garcia. Maybe I’ll go see if they’ll stick their heads up.” “These are newer dudes, Burnett. Mostly from down south. Columbia, Peru. They came on the scene after you scaled back. I hear Moncado brought some of them up, and when he got greased they started running on their own. Nasty bastards some of ‘em. But not efficient. Not like you were. Anyhow, they all went to ground as soon as that boat floated in.” “So they scared? That don’t help me with my needs, Tony.” Rico reached over and ran his hand along Mindy’s shoulder. “Now pretty lady here help with my needs, seen?” She giggled and shifted on her seat. “You want me to hurt him, Teddy?” Sonny almost laughed as Garcia’s eyes went wide. “No, pretty lady. Not yet. Teddy got business to do wit this mon.” Rico’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. “She looks after all my needs, seen?” “Damn! Between her and Peaches I gotta be careful.” Garcia flashed an uneasy smile. “But I got a deal for you, Teddy. It ain’t huge, but it could lead to bigger things.” “Righteous! Now you talkin’ my language, mon!” “You’ll wanna be there too, Burnett. Unless you think you can fit twenty keys in your carry-on bag, Teddy.” “I can run twenty in my sleep.” Sonny leaned back, still sweeping the crowd. “What’s the bigger thing?” “Dude I’m talking about used to bring up eighty, one hundred keys at a go. Until things got tight down south. That gets right, I’ll bet he can do at least that again.” “He another of Moncado’s cast-offs? I don’t like dealing with those bozos. Too much hand-holding.” “Naw, Burnett. He’s independent.” Rico looked at Sonny, waiting for the nod. When he got it he smiled. “Righteous! Is he here?” “Naw. He’s a bit more private than this.” Garcia rubbed his thumb again. “Here’s the deal. He’s got twenty keys he’ll move at thirty-five per. It’s high-grade Peruvian flake. His stuff’s never stepped on. I don’t know that you’ll be able to talk his price down. Not with the first deal at least.” “Righteous. When an’ where?” Garcia smiled for the first time in the last ten minutes. “I knew you’d go for this. I can get in touch with him as soon as we’re done here and set it up. You got a number?” Rico pulled out a matchbook and scribbled one of Stan’s blind numbers on the inside cover. “I’ll at that number for two more days. Seen? Then Teddy got business elsewhere.” Garcia slipped the matchbook into his pocket. “I’ll call you tomorrow night with the details. Have the money and be ready to close. Burnett, you’ll want some transportation.” “What kind?” “I’ll let Teddy know when I call. I ain’t sure how he’ll want to move the stuff.” Sonny nodded, then leaned across the table. “Don’t fuck us, Garcia. You do, and I will find you.” “I got it. Believe me. I want this to work as much as you guys do. This town needs to get movin’ again. And speaking of which, I got places to be, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Teddy.” Rico started to say something right after Garcia left, but Sonny held up his hand. You could never be sure if the booth wasn’t bugged. He’d do it, so odds were someone else had thought of that trick. And the rat had been there before they had. “Look, Teddy. You wanna drop me back at my car? I got some things to take care of before tomorrow if this bozo comes through.” Rico looked at Mindy, who nodded. “Righteous, mon. We drop you an’ then go do our thing, seen?” When they were back outside Rico turned to Sonny. “What the hell was that with the thumb?” “Easy there, pal. Gotta keep the cover. And Burnett don’t take no crap like that.” Mindy nodded, but Sonny could see some doubt in her eyes. “It made sense to me, Rico. And you could tell it didn’t surprise Garcia.” She tugged at her dress, settling it down a bit lower on her thighs. “And he did make my skin crawl.” Rico nodded, but again Sonny could see doubt. He also realized he didn’t care. He found he liked the effect Burnett had on bozos like Garcia. “Ok. So now we wait for that chump to call.” “Yeah.” Raising his wrist like he was checking the time, Sonny spoke into the mic. “Pack it in.” Then he turned back to Mindy and Rico and grinned. “You wanna drop me back at the garage?”

Rico looked Sonny in the dim Roach Coach and shrugged. “Better them than us, partner.” Sonny nodded, his face a greenish-yellow from light off the recorders and other instruments lining the work are of the Roach Coach. “Yeah. Hell, Rico, you wouldn’t even get the time of day from that crew.” He shook his head. “Stan did a good job nailing that one down.” Rico nodded, listening through one earphone to the chatter coming from Bomber’s almost half a mile away. They were parked on a side street where business gave way to cheap residential and an exterminator’s vehicle wouldn’t draw a second glance. It also the kind of street that didn’t draw many police patrols, so they had to keep a weather eye out for anyone trying to steam the hubcaps or maybe the wheels. Lester had pointed to the shotgun clipped by the back doors when he told them that. “Yeah, we had one dude all set to start jacking up the old Coach until Dave opened the back door, racked the shotgun, and said ‘help you’ in that voice of his. I’ll bet the kid broke at least three land speed records getting away. Even forgot his jack.” It was a funny story, but Rico had seen that kind of desperation more than he liked up close and personal back in New York. Working Armed Robbery that was almost all they did; sweep up after one pathetic act after another. In some ways it was worse than Homicide. At least there you’d get a push to close the case. Armed Robbery if nothing turned up right away, the bosses wanted you to close the file and more on. No matter if some family’s business was ended. He’d been glad to get away, but somehow the Job always led you back to that kind of hopelessness. “You ok, partner?” “Yeah. Just waiting for them to quit holding that moron’s hand and get on out of there.” He smiled. “Mindy was talking about going to Downbeat if I got home in time.” “Lucky you. Jenny will just want to go over business. She’s really into this whole Caitlin’s House thing.” Lester gave a theatrical sigh. “Be glad you got someone to go home to.” Rico chuckled. “Yeah, sorry Lester. I been in your shoes too damned many times over the years. This all getting taped ok?” “Yeah. The new mics are really solid. You can damned near hear a fly fart at twenty feet with them. And it sounds like they’re wrapping up now.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. We’ll hold position until Dave is clear and then call it a night.” He could hear the melodic notes of Charlie Parker blowing ‘April in Paris’ as soon as he got off the elevator, and smiled. That meant Mindy had changed her mind about going out. And that was the other great thing about having the penthouse…no one complained about the noise. She was waiting in the living room, sitting on the big couch looking out at the sliver of moon peeking around clouds sliding slowly through the night sky. “I change my mind,” she said, watching as he hung up his suit coat and took off his dark tie. “Figured that from the music. What’s up, lady?” “Nothing. I just got to watching the moon and decided I didn’t want to be around people.” “Yeah, I hear you. It’s nice and quiet up here. Easy to pretend you’re somewhere else.” “What did you say once? If you close your eyes you can almost pretend you’re in New York?” “Or Boston,” he said, sitting down beside her. “I remember that night, too, you know.” “How did it go?” “Good. Stan and Randy have them set up for a deal, and we’ll see what happens from there. Business as usual.” Rico ran his fingers through her thick, long red hair. “Two nights from now.” “Mmm.” She rubbed her head against his fingers. “You ever wish you could just crawl into a Bird song and never come out?” “Yeah. All the time. All the time.” He kissed her hair, smelling the fading breath of her perfume. “What’s wrong, lady?” “I don’t know. Not really.” She leaned in his side. “I’m just…” “Tired. Yeah. So am I. We been hittin’ it hard the last few months. No question. Lots of change. People getting hurt. Hell, it takes a toll.” “It does.” She looked up at him, her blue eyes bright. “And it’s all changing so fast.” “Yeah. Like us. Ask me back when this started if I thought I’d be with anything but the Job I would have laughed at you. But now…” “Now I wonder how long it will last.” “As long as we want it to, pretty lady. As long as we want it to. I’m just glad you’re moved in now. The place feels so much better. More like a home instead of some set for a play.” She giggled. “Except for the ones we put on.” “You got it.” He reached down and ran his fingers along her fine cheekbones, ending under her chin so he could tilt her mouth up and kiss her. “And I don’t want it to end.” “So I figure we’ll play it like we did last night.” Stan looked around the room, taking a sip of coffee to both wet his whistle and create space to collect his thoughts. Briefing still didn’t come easy for him. No matter how much he made them laugh. “Randy and I will ride in looking like bad extras in some kind of gay porno while the rest of you hide out in the Roach Coach and snicker.” “So long as I don’t gotta wear that damend wig again I’ll be happy if I’m sittin’ in the mud fightin’ off gators.” “Thanks for the offer, Dave, but it’s roaches you gotta worry about in that warehouse. Lots of big roaches, and maybe a rat or ten. Depending on the tide and phase of the moon.” “You think they’ll bring the guns?” Leave it to Sonny. “They might. I’d be surprised if they didn’t, or at least had them close by. But I got that covered. Remember that L’il Abner rig you drove after the Daytona got blown up? I found it still down in the impound lot. Randy and I will be rollin’ in true redneck style.” “Good thinking, Stan.” Sonny grinned. “It also gives us a good place to stash the buy money. I’ve got the request filled out, captain. Just needs your signature and we’ll be ready to go.” Castillo nodded. “Good. You’ve used this spot before?” “Once or twice, but mostly for simple meets and stuff like that. Back when I first rolled out Biggs and was sniffing around for that speed cooker back in ’90.” Lester nodded. “Yeah. I remember him. The old trucker speed guy. Blew himself up with a batch, didn’t he?” “Yeah. He was going for something extra-special and forgot to shut off the propane feed to the grill he was using. At least that’s what the bomb squad figured. They were picking bits of him out of the trees for days after that thing went up.” “Good.” Castillo turned. “Crockett and Tubbs?” Stan sat down with a grin as Sonny and Rico started running down what they were planning for the next few days. It felt good, both to be done talking and to actually have a working case. Sonny and Rico were just fishing, and it showed. From what he could tell Garcia might have promise, but the other two were padding. Especially Pancho. Any Mendoza who had his shit together was dead or in prison. What was left were the dregs from the gene pool. He tuned back in when Castillo started talking. “Stay on Carrera. I want to know what he’s up to and what he knows about this trouble down south. And you say Pancho’s back in town?” “According to the info Trudy got, yes. He flew back in yesterday.” “Stay on him, too. I want to know what he was doing in Columbia and where else he went. If he bought local tickets they wouldn’t track here.” Stan decided to be a team player. Hell, he actually enjoyed it now that they were a real team and not just the Sonny and Rico show. “If you guys want Randy and I can drop by Topper and see if he’s around. I know one of the bouncers there and two of the bartenders. Wanna-be Angels every one. They think Biggs is the shit.” “Thanks.” Sonny smiled. “I’d appreciate it. That place gives me a rash.” He held up his hand. “But more to the point it’s not someplace Burnett ever frequented. The Overton? Sure. Even Rizzo’s and Bomber’s or a higher-end place like Rumours. It’d be better if you slid in and did some recon. You ever worked with Pancho?” “No, but those morons don’t know that. And more to the point they ain’t gonna say anything. The biker brotherhood and all that.” Stan chuckled. “All I gotta do is say we might be looking for a couple of new recruits and they’d sell him and his mother down the river without a second thought.” Randy cleared his throat. “We’ll hit that this afternoon if you think one of your boys might be there.” Stan thought for a moment, scratching his chin through his beard. “Yeah. At least one of ‘em should be. Provided they all still work there. It’s been a couple of months since I was by.” Back in the Tech Room, Stan turned to Lester and grinned. “How did all the junk work last night?” “Good. Dave had solid comms all the way through, and I don’t think anyone ever picked up he was wearing the earpiece. The new mics are almost too good, though. Lots of background noise.” “Yeah.” Stan flipped through the notebook listing all their taps, active and shut down. “You know, we should scrub this thing one of these days. I think we still have taps running from the Moncado case.” “It’s on the list, boss. Just haven’t gotten to it yet.” Lester waved in the general direction of a cork board on the back wall. “But I did pull the last of the Moncado taps last week. Still have some from Doc, though.” “If the warrants are still good we might want to keep those live. Who knows when the Dominicans will decide to get back in the game. But I’ll run the paperwork by the AUSA just make sure. Don’t want anything tossed on a technicality.” “You want me to move it up a bit?” “Yeah, and I’ll give you a hand. Keep me busy until it’s time to roll out.” Stan surprised himself and managed to work fifteen wires before Randy stuck his head in. “We’d best get in costume, sarge. It’s almost 1500 and I’d rather hit that dump before the after-work crowd.” “You got a point. I’ll grab my colors an’ we’ll roll.” Stan chuckled. “That beard’s startin' to grow in nice.” Randy rubbed his chin. “My old company gunny would kick my ass so hard an’ so far for this. But it does kinda suit Patch, don’t it?” They hit Topper just after three, and Stan grinned when he saw one of his old contacts behind the bar. “Gus! How’s it hangin’, bro?” Gus was a big guy with a shaved head and drooping dark handlebar mustache. “Biggs! Man, I ain’t seen you in ages. Thought you’d been busted.” “Ain’t a cop been born who can bring me in. Had business up in the Panhandle.” Stan slapped Randy on the shoulder. “This is my bro, Patch. Patch, this is the guy I was tellin’ you about.” Randy pretended to look the man up and down. “He could do. He’s big enough. But we got other business first, brother.” Gus looked from one man to the other. “Do for what?” “W might be lookin’ for recruits soon, Gus. Me an’ Patch are checkin’ out prospects. Don’t worry, bro. You’re on the list. But I got a favor to ask first.” “Name it, bro. I got your back, Biggs. You know that.” “We’re lookin’ for a punk who calls himself Pancho. Likes to prance around in cowboy boots or some shit now, I hear.” Stan leaned over the bar. “We need to have a word. I keep hearin’ he likes it here.” “He’s in regular most weeks. I ain’t seen him for a few days now, though.” Gus looked around. “His buddies were in lookin’ for him night before last, though. Didn’t seem too happy when they didn’t find him here. But they was jabberin’ that Mexican talk so I don’t know what they was sayin’.” “They come in much?” “Naw. Only with him. They weren’t here last night, though.” Stan slapped the bar with his big palm. “Thanks for the info, Gus. Look, we got some things to check on. We’ll be back to talk, though. See about gettin’ you some colors.” Out on the street, Randy looked around and took a deep breath. “Is that guy as dumb as he looks?” “Dumber, if you can believe it. But he sees just about everything that happens in there when he’s working. We can wait and try the bouncer, but I think Gus was pay dirt for us.” “You think Pancho’s ducking his buddies?” “Could be. I don’t know either way.” Stan swung his leg over the Harley and settled into the seat. “Let’s get back and let the captain know.” Castillo waited until Stan was done talking. “What does your gut tell you?” “That Pancho’s buddies were looking for him and were either pissed or worried that they couldn’t find him. The guy sounds like a man of fixed habits, and hitting Topper with his crew was one of them. Gus says they never come in without him.” “And Customs says he came back in the country?” “Yeah. At least someone using his ticket and a passport in his name did. He wasn’t on any watch list so they didn’t take pictures. We can ask for video, but it’ll take them weeks to sort through it all.” Stan sighed. “Trust me on that one, captain. I’ve tried before.” Castillo nodded. “If his friends showed up they may have expected him. We’ll assume for now he’s back in Miami and lying low for some reason. But keep an open mind.” He looked down at his desk. “We have the entry team as backup for your buy tomorrow night. I don’t trust bikers.” “That’s why I wanted them, captain. My gut says Hector’s pretty level-headed, but Rusty’s a wild card and Mutt is stupid enough to shoot himself over an argument with himself.” “Brick will be here early. Go over your plan with him and make any adjustments you need to.” Castillo felt his headache starting to build behind his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Now go home and spend some time with Gina.” “I’ll do that, boss. But you’d better do the same with Trudy.” Stan smiled. “I never thought I’d say that.” “You’re right, Stan. I should do that. Thank you for your great work today. You’ve got a good team.” Once Switek left, Castillo leaned back in his chair and let the full wave of the headache crash over him. They were always worse just before a bust, and he’d noticed they were getting worse as he got older. It was the price he’d paid for years, except now the toll was higher than it used to be. Yet they always went away as soon as he got in the car with Trudy and headed for their home. Trudy. Just the thought of her and he could feel his muscles relaxing and the tension drain away from his temples. Still, the cases need a bit more of his attention. Lester had brought him the list of active taps just before Switek and Mather came back from Topper, and Castillo looked at the three pages with more than a little amazement. He sometimes lost track of how active the Task Force had been, at least until he saw a list like that or a report on how much property they’d seized. Once set in motion, the unit ticked along like well-oiled machine. So far they’d been able to stay one step ahead of the traffickers and arms dealers. So far. But Castillo knew things were changing. He saw it in the intelligence reports and bulletins, and in things like the boat full of heads. Eight heads was a powerful message, if that was what it was supposed to be. He still wasn’t sure, but with two active cases, maybe three, he didn’t have the resources to chase it. And so far it was still Metro-Dade Homicide’s case. With any luck it would stay there. He heard the others leaving through the office door. Team Elvis first, bantering and backslapping in a way he wouldn’t have suspected not too many months before. Then Crockett, Tubbs, and O’Laughlin, talking about plans for the evening. Once he might have listened with a hint of jealousy, knowing more paperwork waited in the dim light of his empty office. But now there was Trudy. “Are you ready to go, my love?’ she asked as she came in. “Yes. Sergeant Franz’s list of active taps can wait until tomorrow.” He got up and came around the desk, taking her in his arms and kissing her. “I’m looking forward to the waves and maybe hearing more of that piece you’ve been working on.” “Only if you make those Vietnamese noodles. I’m starving.” She smiled, her dark eyes glittering. “It’s been a long day.” Castillo’s house was quiet, cloaked in deep shadows by the time they got there. Hanging up his jacket, he started dinner and water for tea in the kitchen, knowing she’d change into her habitual silk robe and then finish the tea while he put the last touches on their meal. Asian cooking was both quick and flavorful, and he loved surprising her with new combinations and tastes. They ate at the low table and then took their tea onto the deck to listen to the waves. Trudy had been quieter than usual during dinner, and Castillo reached over and took her hand in his. “Is something bothering you, my love?” “No, Marty. Not bothering me. I was just enjoying what we have.” She smiled in the gloom. “I still like to stop sometimes and just let it wash over me again. It’s been so busy since the wedding, and then my rehab and all…” “I know.” He smiled, feeling a twinge low in his side where he’d been shot a bit over a year ago now. Or was it longer? Some days he wasn’t sure. “At least you were fine for the wedding.” “And the honeymoon.” She smiled again. “That was the best part. But coming back to more rehab sucked. And then they had to clear me for duty again…so some days I just like to stop and see it all again like it’s new.” “Each day is a gift of the new wrapped in the paper of the old.” He smiled. “Another wise old Montagnard headman?” “No. Me. Jack and I were drunk one night in Saigon and we started trying to come up with wise sayings. That’s the only one I remember.” “I like it.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m going to go work on that composition some more. You should come in when you’re ready.” “I will, my love.” He sipped the last of his tea, listening to the waves slap and slide over the sand. Their pull, the pull of the past, was less now, and he understood why. He had a present now. He waited until piano notes started to flow out the open window before getting to his feet and heading inside. With only a few days until the first patients moved into Caitlin’s House, Sonny wasn’t surprised to find Jenny hard at work when he got back to Tranquility. She’d taken over the saloon table, spreading what looked like balance sheets and operations plans across it in a sequence only she understood. But he was glad to see her in her white t-shirt and almost invisible cut-offs. That meant she’d been back for a bit and lost most of her work tension. She looked up and smiled when she heard his shoes on the companionway. “Hi, baby! I thought I felt you pull up out there. How was your day?” “Quiet.” He leaned over and kissed her before shrugging off his gray blazer and hanging it up. The heavy 4506-1 slapped his side, reminding him it would need attention later. Miami humidity played hell with firearms, even when they were stainless steel, and a series of very determined DIs at Paris Island had left him with ingrained cleaning habits that would never go away. But for now he just wanted to sit and watch Jenny work. “How was yours?” “Good. Those new lawyers are great.” “Yeah. One of ‘em used to work in the DA’s office, so I knew him from there. He’ll look after the place without trying to get in the way. I should have fired those other jackasses years ago.” He paused. “Did he get the restraining order?” “Yes. He sent a copy back with me. They aren’t allowed within a mile of the premises and are to have no contact with it or us in any way. He also said to tell you the DA was looking at them for some other stuff.” She shrugged, turning back to the numbers. “I didn’t understand most of it, but he did say it involved the Vitorelli family.” “Why am I not surprised? I never quite understood how those bozos got their hooks into Caitlin’s business in the first place.” He shook his head. “But we never really talked about that stuff much. Everything moved so fast, and we were just taking what time we could get with each other.” “I know.” Jenny looked up from the balance sheets. “She…I know how it was. We never think about time until we don’t have it.” He sat down next to her. “I’m not making that mistake again, darlin’. You have my word.” “I know.” She smiled and touched his arm, her fingers tracing soft patterns when the short sleeves ended. “Just like I knew when we met that I’d spend all my time with you until there was none left to spend.” “Tell you what. Can that wait? We can go topside and watch the stars.” “I’d like that.” She leaned over and kissed his neck. “But I might not be looking up very much.” “Are you tryin’ to kill old Bascom down the way?” “No. Just using our time.” She smiled again, but he could see a spark in her eyes. “I like how you think. And maybe I won’t be looking up much, either.” She giggled. “Now who’s trying to kill old Bascom?” Later, in the aft cabin, she eased herself down beside him on the big bed and sighed. “I needed that.” She kissed his neck and shoulder, snuggling up against him. Running his fingers through her sweaty hair Sonny smiled at the cabin ceiling. “So did I, darlin’. And we’ll sleep good tonight.” She sighed and shifted again so her whole body pressed up against him. “It feels good being able to work for something good. I just wanted you to know that.” “I’m damned glad you want to help. I don’t know squat about that stuff you were staring at when I came home, and Angie’s stretched thin as it is.” “It’s…I’ve always been good at that stuff. Like I said before. And it lets me do some good with daddy’s trust fund. Miserable old bastard never even tipped.” She slid her hand down his chest. “So it’s nice to do good with it.” “Seems you do good with other things, too.” “Sometimes.” She giggled, then her voice turned serious. “Sonny…have you thought about kids?” “Not really. I guess…it’s not that I don’t want kids, but I’ve never had much luck. Billy…hell, he wouldn’t know me if we passed on the street. And Will…” He ran his hand along her hip. “But if you want…” “No. I mean I would, but…” “You can’t have kids.” “No. I had an accident when I was sixteen. I…” He touched her lips with a finger. “It’s fine, Jenny. I’m happy just being with you. Kids or no. Been there, done that. And I gotta say I’m better at trying to make ‘em than I am raising ‘em.” He stared off into the darkness. “Yeah,” he repeated. “Better at that than actually being a dad.” “I thought you should know. And I’d understand…” “Naw. Nothing to understand. I love you, Jenny. That’s what matters. You want kids, we can adopt. Or not. I’m good either way.” He smiled and rolled over to face her. “But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t get some more practice in…” The team convened in the conference room just after six for a final review of the night’s plan. They’d brought in some extra chairs to accomodate Brick, Tiny, and the other members of the high-risk warrant team Pete had lent them for the operation. Sonny had to grin as Tiny continued to grumble. “I don’t get why we have to pretend to be ATF.” Brick looked at his fellow deputy. “So the bad guys think it’s ATF rolling them up, dipshit.” “Yeah, but it just don’t sit right is all.” “Would you rather pretend to be FBI?” “Screw that.” The room dissolved in laugher until Castillo cleared his throat. “Give Sergeant Switek your attention.” Sonny had read through the plan earlier and signed off on it, so he only half-listened as Stan went through it all again, adding in where Brick and his men would get involved. He’d wanted to see if they could get a fix on Carrera before their meet with Garcia tomorrow night, but Castillo wanted all hands on deck. After the fiasco with the raid on Holmes by the ATF he couldn’t blame the man one bit for wanting to play it safe. Still…he felt like he and Rico would just be in the way. Stan’s voice brought him back to the briefing. “Randy and I asked for a demo of the weapons, so there will be some shooting. Stay on comms and don’t move until I give the go. Lester will have you all wired in.” Randy grinned. “Or you can just follow the L’il Abner rig we got.” Brick chuckled. “That is a hell of a truck you got.” “Courtesy of some brain-dead Haitian runner if I remember right.” Rico grinned. “Maybe you’d better ask Sonny.” “Don’t even mention that thing around me.” Sonny groaned, playing it up for the laughs. There was a time when it would have pissed him off to remember the bits of the Daytona arcing through the air or the grin on that bastard’s face as he blew it up, but those days were gone now. “Though it was kinda fitting to pick up Stone in the thing.” He looked over at the warrant team. “Long story. I’ll tell you some night at The Sanctuary.” Trudy smiled. “Just don’t ask him out the car.” Stan cleared his throat. “We’ll test the weapons and then if it’s all kosher we’ll make the buy. As soon as money changes hands Randy will give the go signal. ‘Give my regards to Uncle Sam’ is what we’re using. If it looks bad or something goes south, I’ll give the call.” Brick nodded. “My boys will be standing by just out of sight. Tiny and I did a drive-by of the buy location and picked out a couple of places we can get the van without anyone being the wiser.” “And I know where the Roach Coach will be.” Sonny nodded. “Rico and I will be in the back again.” Castillo looked around. “I’ll be here with Castillo and O’Laughlin. We’ll monitor the radios and direct traffic. If you need support it will be provided.” Stan looked around, and Sonny felt a sudden surge of pride. The big guy had really come into his own. “If there are no more questions, let’s get this show on the road. We’ve got time, but that will let Brick’s boys get into position.” Sonny looked out the window. “Looks like it’ll be overcast tonight. Means night vision won’t work for crap.” Brick nodded. “We’ll get by. We’ve got tactical lights, and we’ll try the NVGs before anything goes down just in case there’s enough ambient light.” Rico nodded. “Solid. Let’s do it.”

Sonny looked around the table. “Garcia more or less confirmed it, but we’re going to see if Carrera says the same thing. There’s some kind of turf war going on at least in Columbia. It sounds like it’s focused on transportation and not supply, but it could account for the slowdown we’ve seen in traffic.” Castillo nodded. “Are they targeting Moncado’s old routes?” “Could be. Garcia didn’t know.” Sonny grinned. “Hell, he ain’t in a position to know much. Like he said last night, he’s a middleman. And a small one at that.” Rico nodded. “Yeah, but he was nervous as hell. Whatever’s going down there is bad.” “Could it be related to that boat?” Lester scratched his chin under his beard. “They were small time transport.” Sonny shook his head. “I don’t know.” He turned to Castillo. “Do we know anything about what might be happening down south?” “No. I’ll put in a call to DEA. They might be able to connect some dots for us. In the meantime, stay on Garcia and Carrera.” He turned to Stan. “Sergeant Switek.” “We’re a go for tonight. Randy finished those calls last night, so if Hector checks up like I know he will he’ll hear that we checked on him. And I heard from my contacts in the State Police. Hector’s boys made their calls.” “How’s your cover plan?” “Good. Team Elvis will be fully deployed for this one. I’m sending Dave into Bomber’s instead of keeping him in overwatch, but that’s the only change. He’ll go in about half an hour before us and get in position. Once the meet’s done he’ll hold in place unless he gets a call.” Stan grinned. “We’re testing a smaller earpiece tonight. But if it goes south Lester’s gonna call the bar and have Shaniqua paged.” He grinned again. “Had to come up with a name no one’s likely to answer in that hole.” “Have Crockett and Tubbs stand by as well. Homes’ people can be unpredictable.” “We’ll have room in the Roach Coach for sure.” Lester smiled. “I’ll even hang one those little pine things you get at the gas station. It gets a little ripe after chili night at Stan and Gina’s place.” Dave nodded. “But Stan makes a mean bowl of red. You should try it sometime.” Sonny raised a finger. “What’s the plan if they can deliver on the goods?” “A controlled buy. I already talked to the captain about getting Brick’s entry team as a stand-in for an ATF SWAT team to do the ‘takedown’ as soon as the buy’s made. They grab us all, we cuss up a storm about how Hector screwed it all up, and you know the rest.” Stan grinned. “Our fancy lawyer gets us sprung on a technicality and they go down for hard time.” Castillo nodded. “I’ve already spoken with the chief deputy. You’ll have the team when you need them.” “Solid.” Rico nodded. “Did we get anything more on that boat?” “The actual pictures came through this morning.” Trudy slid a folder across the table. “I think they sent us every one they took at the scene. The boat was covered with prints, but of course there’s no way to tell whose they are aside from the guys we could identify. But their team did say there looked to be at least eleven distinct sets of prints.” “And who knows how many other chumps been in and out of that boat.” “And whoever did this is probably smart enough to wear gloves.” Sonny rubbed his chin, feeling three days’ worth of stubble under his fingers. “Did they get anything on the bullet holes in the boat?” Trudy nodded. “Yes. 5.56mm rounds. NATO standard.” Rico whistled, and Dave nodded in agreement. “That ain’t a normal dealer round.” “It’s still not our case.” Castillo’s voice was firm. Randy nodded. “Maybe it was some nutjob with a Mini-14. A good ol’ redneck M-16.” “The captain’s right,” Sonny said. “It’s still not our case. I’ve got a meeting at one about Caitlin’s House, but I’ll be back in time for the kickoff with the Roach Coach.” “Gina said something about that this morning. How soon’s it opening?” “They’re looking at taking the first three girls next week, Stan. Jenny and Angie have been running a tight ship over there, but I just wanna kick the tires one more time.” Castillo closed his folder, a sure sign the meeting was over. “Stay on it. Switek, give me a final run down before I leave today.” Trudy motioned for Sonny as the meeting broke up. “I got a warrant for Pancho’s ticket information, Sonny. Looks like he flew to Columbia and has a return ticket for today. As in three hours ago. So he should be back in Miami.” “Did he use the ticket?” “Records say he did. Boarded the plane in Bogota and passed through Customs about an hour ago.” “Great work, Trudy. Now we just have to wait for the little bozo to show his face again.” Hidalgo greeted the man at the airport with a smile as soon as he passed through Customs and claimed his luggage. “It is good to see you again, my friend.” Philipe Valderama grinned in return. “It’s good to be back. Let’s get going.” Hidalgo thought his friend looked ridiculous in the silly cowboy boots and tight jeans, more like a man pretending to be a woman, but he understood it was how the target had dressed. Stupid Mexicans and their costumes! Playing dress-up doesn’t make people fear you. What we did at Los Passos makes people fear you. They chatted back and forth about the fight and the nuisance of Customs until they were clear of the airport and in the cheap Ford Hidalgo used for routine transportation duties. Only then did Philipe sigh. “I can’t wait to get these Goddamned boots off. I feel like a fairy in high heels.” “All part of the role, my friend.” “Sure, but I don’t have to like it. Just pretend I do.” Philipe smiled. “Did the jefe send new orders?” “Not yet, but the captain and some of his boys might be coming north in the next few days. And the jefe thought some long-range capability might be in order.” “Of course. Your tools arrived last night.” “Good. How are things here?” “Aside from losing the two men in that raid it’s been going well. The message was delivered, and it’s having the desired effect. Trade has slowed to a trickle as the peasants wet themselves.” He chuckled, taking the exit ramp into the web of streets marking the start of Little Haiti. “Enough of them have heard of El Unidad to understand the message.” Philipe smiled, looking out the window. “And the police?” “They run around like the bodies the heads were removed from.” Hidalgo chuckled at his own image. “Javier and I were in overwatch when they found the boat.” “Do you know anything about this mystery unit the colonel seeks?” “Not yet. There are whispers, but we’re still outsiders and keeping a low profile. There were so many cops at the boat I couldn’t pick anyone out. Two showed up later and left early, but they looked like narcotics and not some special unit.” Hidalgo made the last turn into the safe house’s parking lot. “You know. The Gringo pretty boys they always try to send undercover.” “Si. I know the type. When will they learn it takes hard men to do hard work?” Javier looked around as the car stopped. “Good choice. No one will notice us here.” “No, and if they ask you’re my cousin Roberto up from El Salvador.” Reaching into the glove box Hidalgo pulled out the forged papers that had come with Javier’s tools. “Here’s what you need.” “Gracias. And I don’t know about you, but I could use a beer. The flight was rough, but not as rough as the stewardesses.” Freshly-shaved and wearing a light salmon shirt under his white linen blazer, Sonny Crockett climbed the stairs and stepped into the house he’d shared with his late wife, Caitlin Davies. Well, sort of shared, he corrected himself as he looked around. Half the time she was on tour, and part of the time she wasn’t I was on the boat playing Burnett. We never had enough time… So many things had changed since he’d last been inside almost two years ago. Or was it three? The entry foyer had been converted to a nurse’s check-in station complete with a security post and doors that had to be buzzed open. Even though he hadn’t seen the security he’d been deeply involved in its planning. The girls at Caitlin’s House might have pimps or other scumbags coming after them, and he wanted them to feel safe the moment they walked in. But it was a fine line. They had to feel comfortable, too, and he wasn’t sure on walking in if they’d hit that balance. Angie was waiting for him at the front desk, her body just contained by a bright blue dress. All these years and she still can’t walk in heels. But I ain’t gonna tell her that. She wobbled over and smiled. “Blondie! Little Blondie already be here. She said come on back as soon as you got here.” Her lips turned down in a frown. “The suits are here, too. And that one with the mean eyes I don’t like.” Sonny nodded, knowing exactly who she meant. A junior partner in the firm that had handled Caitlin’s estate, Roger Watkins inserted himself in the middle of the Caitlin’s House project and so far had refused to move. Sonny had run him, and there were some question marks in his background. Nothing solid, but just enough to make him wonder. And today he’d decided to stop wondering. “You come on back with me, Angie. I’m about done with that little punk.” She smiled. “Sonny done with that man? I’ll be right there.” She swiped a card through the door and waited for the buzz. “Let’s go. Little Blondie be waiting.” Jenny was sitting toward the head of the long conference table, her yellow dress clinging to her body like a light fog hugging the ground. She smiled when she saw him, and waved them both over. “That little punk is here again,” she said without any preamble. “He’s pissing now.” Sonny nodded. “Angie already told me. Who else came?” “The big old guy. Haskell. And Dr. Jessup, the girl we hired to run the treatment side.” “What about Dr. Sanchez?” Angie spoke. “She be late, but she’ll be here. If not, girlfriend here will kick her ass.” Jenny smiled. “I might. But I do want her here.” “Is anyone from Gina’s unit coming?” “Lia.” “Good. She can chew good old Roger’s kneecaps off.” Sonny smiled. “And speak of the little waste of space…” Roger Watkins looked like the kind of lawyer who’d have his face plastered on the side of every city bus in town, promising to sue anyone for the maximum amount possible. His thinning dark hair was slicked back, and Sonny wondered just how much hair dye he went through in a month even though the guy was still too young to really have gray hair. His suits were always cheaper than they looked until you got close, and he wore enough cologne to drop a charging rhino at twenty yards. But somehow he’d gotten in the door at Haskell and Francis, and managed to cling to his job in spite of no redeeming qualities. Sonny wondered just what pictures he had and what the person in question was doing. Watkins slid into a chair just fractionally off from being at the head of the table and pulled a generic file from his leather briefcase. “Good afternoon, Ms. Walker. Uh…Angie is it? And Mr. Crockett. Shall we…” “Haskell isn’t here yet. Neither are the rest of my staff.” Sonny let just a hint of the Burnett stare show. “We wait until they’re here.” “Of course. I…” Getting up, Sonny moved so he was at the head of the table. “We start when I say we do. Clear? Good.” He regretted not getting involved earlier. Maybe he could have headed this punk off before he got in as deep as he had. Ten minutes later everyone was sitting around the table. Lia was a short, slender Puerto Rican from the victims’ services office who looked like she’d spit fire at the slightest provocation. Sitting next to her was Dr. Jessup, a tall woman with dark hair and eyes who had been hired to run the treatment side of Caitlin’s House. Across from her was another brunette, Dr. Sanchez, a clinical psychologist who’d oversee the therapy and activity side of the House. And of course Haskell, a big man with thick gray hair who looked like a lawyer sent over from central casting. He’d handled some of Caitlin’s royalty deals before her comeback, and his firm had somehow remained tied to the will and estate. Sonny looked around. “Let’s get this rolling. We’re opening next week, and I want to make sure everything’s a go. Dr. Jessup?” Jessup had a smooth, almost sultry voice, but there was steel under the velvet. “We finished the last of the first phase hires yesterday. I’ve got enough clinicians and nurses on staff to handle at least ten patients, so we should be fine. As you asked, I’ve also got the expansion plan ready.” Sonny nodded. “We’ll go over that later. I want to test what we’ve got first and then adjust if we have to.” Sanchez nodded. “I’m in the same place Nichole is. My staff’s hired and ready to go, including the security people you mentioned. I also scaled for at least ten girls. The two boats are set and ready, so we can actually start some more advanced programs ahead of schedule.” “Good.” He turned to Lia. “And the girls?” “We finished the last interview this morning. I’ll have the files of the three first girls to the doctors as soon as we’re done here.” Watkins cut in. “Why not now?” Lia’s stare would have dropped a more aware person in their tracks. “Because of patient confidentiality. They’re cleared. You’re not.” “But from a liability standpoint I, I mean the firm, has to evaluate them.” Sonny turned, feeling Burnett stirring just beneath the white blazer. “No. You don’t.” “I’m afraid I must insist.” “Then you’re fired.” “You can’t!” “Yes, I can. Caitlin’s will made me the executor and sole beneficiary. Right, Haskell?” He waited for the older man to nod, his eyes wide. “Good. That means I make the decisions. Not you, Roger. And I just decided you’re out. And you just cost your firm the whole deal. I’ll have to ask you two to leave before we continue talks. Confidentiality and all that.” Haskell’s mouth moved in short jerks, but nothing came out. Then he spluttered, “Mr. Crockett, I must protest.” “No, you must leave. As in right now. We’re going to discuss patient matters, and neither of you are cleared for those discussions. You’ll be getting my letter of termination by certified mail tomorrow.” He blinked, and felt his face slipping into the frozen Burnett stare. “You don’t want to fight this, Haskell. But you might want to take a look at Watkins here and ask yourself why he just cost you this relationship. I’ll expect a full accounting of any monies your firm may have spent from the estate in the last two years as well. My new legal team will be in touch.” “You’ll regret this.” Watkins’ voice was a hiss. “I can…” “You can shut up and get out.” Sonny’s voice was pure, dead Burnett now. “Or would you rather face arrest for trespass? Making criminal threats? And if you get too cute, Roger, there can be Federal changes for endangering a Federal officer in the performance of his duties. And don’t get me started on the financial side.” Once the two left, Haskell practically dragging the gesturing Watkins out, Sonny turned to the group. “I should have fired those bozos months ago. Now let’s get this going. I want our first three girls to find Caitlin’s House welcoming and ready to help them find their way to better lives. Tell me how that looks.” The meeting broke up almost two hours later, but Sonny felt good. He’d gotten the answers he wanted, and from looking at the files Lia brought he could tell the unit had made good choices. The girls all had solid chances for recovery, and they’d even targeted three more who could be added in a matter of days or weeks if the program looked like it could handle it. Jenny squeezed his arm as they stood on the second floor balcony looking out toward the water. Angie was somewhere downstairs bustling through the security routines and scaring the hell out of two of the new guards. “I’m glad you fired those two. I’ll be watching for Watkins, though. He’s bad.” “I know. He doesn’t really have a record, but there’s something…” “No. He’s bad. I know it.” She had that look in her eyes he’d learned to trust and not question. “I’ll get a restraining order for him and the rest of the firm.” “Good.” She shifted, and he watched as the dress pulled tight across her firm breasts. “I have a good feeling about the girls, though.” “So do I. Gina’s people made some good choices.” “They did.” She paused. “I talked to her about the whole thing. How she reminded me of Monaele. We…we get along now.” “Good. But it’s ok if you don’t. I think we’ll be working mostly with Lia when it comes to the girls. Gina might do public relations or fundraising. Stuff like that.” “Good. I…I don’t like crowds.” “I know. I don’t either, darlin’. But she’s a natural. Her and Stan.” She giggled. “Stanley’s so funny. And he’s lost so much. I’d like to have him come talk to the girls sometimes, I think. I already told Catalina about it and she likes the idea.” “Good. If we can show them cops aren’t all bad, and that many of ‘em have suffered like they have it’s a good thing.” He paused. “I might see if Trudy…” “I already talked to her. She really wants to do it.” “You know, it’s a shame Noogie isn’t still alive. That little bozo would have loved this.” “That’s what she said, too.” Jenny looked out toward the water, her eyes sad. “We lose so many, Sonny. Too many.” “I know, darlin’. But we aren’t losing each other. Never.” Night was starting to claim the Miami skyline when Stan gave Castillo his last-minute briefing. “There have been no major changes, captain,” he finished. “Dave’s heading out in about an hour to get into position, and Randy and I will roll in about eight thirty just to make Skaggs sweat a bit more than he usually does.” “Good. I’ll expect your report tomorrow. Stay on this one, Switek. If these people can produce M-16s I want them shut down.” “You got it, captain.” Turning, Stan headed back out into the main conference room, shooting the rest of his team a thumbs up. Dave grinned, his normally-short hair hidden under a shaggy wig anchored by a mesh-backed NRA cap. A faded “Dukes of Hazzard” t-shirt completed his look. “This better work. I feel like an asshole in this get-up.” Lester chuckled. “At least the wig hides the earpiece. I got the wire running back along your neck, but until they figure out a way to do this without wires it’s as good as it gets.” “And if it acts up, yank it and just listen for the page.” Stan looked around. “We ready to roll?” “Yeah.” Lester stood up. “I’ll go get Crockett and Tubbs and get moving. I wanna be in position about the same time Dave goes in. Just in case.” Stan nodded, feeling his usual surge of pleasure when a plan started coming together. He found he really enjoyed this part of the job, coming up with a plan with his people and then watching them make it better as they executed it. Two years ago he never would have thought he’d be running operations, let alone in charge of a team as good as Team Elvis. It was just one of the reasons he’d never go back to Metro-Dade. Randy looked up from his notes. “You figure Skaggs will come through?” “Hector looked like he wanted it, and he made those calls damned fast. So I’d say we got a good chance of getting something out of him. Might not be M-16s, but he sure acted like he could get them.” “You think it’s leftovers from good ol’ Earl’s stock?” “That I don’t know. We’ll know once we run the numbers, I guess.” Stan shook his head. “But I don’t know if ATF raked in any when they cleaned up his mess.” “I don’t think they did. Ingrams, mostly, and those Tech 9s he was gonna sell the Dominicans. And what was left of the Ma Duce after Dave took out the feed cover. I don’t think we ever saw the full list, though.” “No, and that means they likely didn’t get everything.” Stan shook his head. “They’d be bragging to high heaven if they did.” “They did get their shit scattered pretty good, though. I think they just wanted the whole damend thing to go away.” “Probably why they handed this to us instead of chasing it themselves. In addition to not having enough agents to handle the cases they have.” Randy nodded. “Guess I’d better go get changed. Haul that damned jacket on again and get Patch ready to ride.” He grinned. “Ya know, I could kinda get used to this whole undercover thing. Don’t expect Dave to, though. He’s a shooter clear through.” “Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask…does that mean he’s the better shot? Him being on the rifle all the time?” “No. The way the Corps trained us if we’re working as a team the better shot is the spotter. It’s the spotter who does most of the distance estimation and target location, and to get distance down you have to be a better shot.” Randy paused. “So I’ve been his spotter since early 1969.” “I never knew that.” “Most people don’t. It’s just how the Corps trained us.” Randy’s eyes were still distant. “I’d better get ready.” Stan watched him go, wondering what the question had dug up that Randy didn’t want to talk about. But he respected the man’s privacy. Hell, he knew what it was like for a simple word to stir up bad memories. He still didn’t watch boxing on TV, and avoided gyms for reasons other than preserving his girlish figure. Crockett’s apology had done quite a bit to heal that wound, but he still found himself watching the light-haired cop from time to time and questioning some of his decisions. Not because they needed it, but out of habit. And he knew Sonny was careful around him, choosing his words and praising when maybe he didn’t need to. It was a dance, and one Stan figured would only end when they left the force. They rolled out just after eight, counting on the evening traffic to put them at Bomber’s about eight thirty. Give or take. Stan wasn’t too worried about hitting a particular window. So long as Dave and the Roach Coach were both in place if they got there before nine he’d be happy. As they rode he let the night play itself out in his head, working through things that could happen and how he’d respond. Especially if Skaggs tried something stupid like setting them up. The Browning pressed against his hip as he leaned into a turn, reminding him it was there like it had tapped him on the shoulder. He wasn’t too worried about a fight, it was what came after that kept him thinking. If Skaggs set them up, it was either because their cover had been blown or because the biker was a bigger moron than Stan thought, and that was a damned high bar. Bomber’s was its usual squalid self, complete with smokers out front and someone puking their guts out in the alley running alongside the bar. Inside it had the usual smells, and Stan brushed past Dave at the bar without a second glance. A quick scan showed him Skaggs in the back by the pinball machines, and he tapped Randy on the shoulder and pointed. The former Marine nodded and they headed back. Skaggs made a show of pushing back from the machine and grinning. “Brothers! Let’s get some beer and talk!” “Been talkin’ all damned day, but I don’t say no to beer. Especially when someone else is buyin’.” Stan laughed and slapped Skaggs on the shoulder. “We’ll throw some pussies off a table and be waitin’.” He turned and glared at two wide-eyed college guys. “Best shift it, pussies. Me and Patch feel like sitin’ instead of standin’.” Randy pulled out a ten. “Grab yourselves a couple of pitchers and go bother someone at the bar. You can go easy or hard, and believe me you’d rather go easy.” Once the two frat boys were gone, Stan settled onto the empty chair with a sigh. “I could almost get used to the bad-ass act if I hadn’t have been kicked out of so many seats when I was younger.” “Yeah, but don’t get all teary yet. Skaggs is comin’ back.” After handing out the longneck bottles, Skaggs snagged a chair from the table next to them and sat down himself. “Rusty wanted me to say you boys checked out. Not that I had any doubt, mind. But he likes bein’ careful.” “And you’ll be glad to know he checked out, too. Him and the other two.” Stan’s grin was thin. “He ain’t the only one into careful.” “You checked on Rusty?” “Damned straight, you moron. Hell, I’d check on you if I didn’t already know everything I needed to know.” “Biggs! Bro! Come on, man.” “Think about it, you idiot. Holmes got taken out by the damend Feds, right? How’d they get onto his operation? You know they didn’t just find it one day when they was out pickin’ daisies.” Stan looked over. “Ain’t that right, Patch?” “Damned straight. See, Biggs an’ I go back to the Army. You I don’t know. The others I don’t know. Any one of you could have given this Holmes up to the Feds so they could take his action. Ain’t the first time it would have happened, an’ if it went down that way it won’t be the last time.” “I didn’t think…” “No, Skaggs. You didn’t. But it’s cool. Patch an’ I are set to deal. What’s on the table?” “Rusty wanted me to tell you the whole list. Every damned thing you wanted. Five grand each for the long guns and he’ll throw the 9s in for four hundred each.” “And these are the real deal? No some knock-off or trailer gunsmith job? Cause if Rusty tries to screw us, I’m shootin’ you first, Skaggs.” “No, Patch. Swear to God. He ain’t gonna screw over brothers. He even said name a place where you can test ‘em so you can see for yourself.” “Now that was awful damned white of him.” Stan grinned at his own thin joke. “We’ll take it, even though the 16s are a bit high.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a pencil and piece of paper he’d torn from a notebook earlier that day. Scribbling an address, he handed it to Skaggs. “That’s a warehouse down by the waterfront. It used to belong to some beaner who ran drugs, but now it’s just sittin’ on account of him gettin’ himself killed. You could set off a bomb down there and no one would call the cops. Tell him to meet us there in two days at midnight. He doesn’t show, the deal’s off. Period. We’ll have the cash, he’d better have the guns and ammo for ‘em all.” “He ain’t gonna fuck you guys.” Skaggs took a deep drink of his Bud. “You can bet on that. Hell, he likes you two. Play it right an’ you might get a…what do they call it…?” “Franchise.” “Yeah. He might give you one of them up in the Panhandle. Gotta make sure the right guns get to the right kind of people. Our people.” “You got that right, Skaggs.”

Castillo sat behind his desk, letting the shocked looks fade from his detectives’ faces. “And Homicide had no leads?” “They had squat. But it’s still early and one of them was puking in the bushes.” Rico managed a thin smile. “Can’t say I blame her.” “It reminded me of stuff I heard about in Nam, Marty. Someone went to a lot of trouble to set that up, but I can’t get why.” “It was a message.” Castillo looked down at the desk, thinking back all those years to the steaming jungles and highlands of Vietnam and Laos. He recognized the technique. It was classic insurgent. Put fear into the people before you break their will. But he didn’t know who the message was for or why it was sent. There had to be something… “Do we stay with it, captain?” “No. Not unless we get a request from the chief deputy. We’ll go over the pictures and anything else we get and see if any of the victims tie back to our cases. But it’s not our case. Let Homicide run with it.” “They’re welcome to it. I ain’t never seen anything like that in my life.” “Stay on Carrera and Pancho. If the message is for traffickers, they’ll get wind of it.” “Yeah, and maybe Garcia will turn up.” Crockett turned to Castillo. “We heard he was at The Overton the other night but didn’t see him. Small to mid level punk but he might be a way in for Prentiss. Maybe Cooper if the kid’s upped his status since we last crossed paths with him” Once the two left, Castillo rocked back in his chair and closed his eyes. He didn’t know who the message was for, but he had a good idea what it meant. He’d been seeing reports for months of a new level of violence in the drug trade in Mexico and many parts of Central and South America. Beheadings. Burning men alive in car tires. Shooting your opponent wasn’t enough to send a message anymore. But leaving the heads of six of his enforcers on his front doorstep was. But most of those acts were sloppy. Not random, but sloppy. This was different for another reason. Whoever did it seemed almost professional. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes. It wasn’t their case, and he wasn’t going to waste precious man hours on it until or if it was. Switek and his team were making good progress with the arms dealers, and it was only a matter of time before Crockett and Tubbs made some more solid contacts. He’d heard them talking about shifting Tubbs back to the Prentiss cover, and he agreed with the move. Times were changing, and they had to change with them. And with the supply troubles a smaller-scale buyer would stand a better chance than a big deal-maker like Cooper. And now he needed to let Pete know. Reaching out, he picked up the phone and hit a number. “Chief Deputy? This is Castillo. Let me tell you what my men found…” A scream echoed through the basement, followed by a wet thud and a muted whimper. Rodrigo shook his head as he came down the stairs. “That’s enough, sergeant major. I need our friend here able to answer questions.” The stocky man with a narrow mustache and graying hair cut close to his scalp drew himself to attention and mustered a salute. Sweat dripped from his chin and thick arms. “Of course, colonel. I await your orders.” Rodrigo nodded, circling the man tied to a metal chair. Blood dripped from a broken nose and a series of cuts on his forehead and around his eyes and cheekbones. His right shoulder jutted awkwardly where it had been dislocated, and from experience Rodrigo knew he’d find several broken fingers missing their nails if he looked at the man’s hands. When he spoke, his voice was a low whisper. “What made you think you could do business in my plaza without paying the tax? “I…I don’t understand.” “Times have changed, amigo. Oh, they have changed. No longer can you come down from El Notre and do business as you please. My people make sure things go smoothly, but you must pay. You didn’t pay.” “The Mendozas…” “Are bitches in prison now. Or dead. And they were always guests here in any case.” Rodrigo chuckled. “You bastards were always so arrogant. This is not Columbia. Or Mexico. Here you must deal with me.” “What…what do you want?” “Information. A simple thing, yes? You remember Tico Moncado?” “He’s dead…” The voice was weaker now, and Rodrigo motioned to Gordo. “Give him some juice, sergeant major.” The stocky man grinned and flicked the on switch on the cattle prod. Sparks arced, and the man tied to the chair screamed again. “That’s better. Look. I know he’s dead. The puta should have died years ago. What I want to know is who did it. Who killed him and that grande puta Maynard?” “I don’t know…Maynard. But we hear…” “Go on.” “They say it was Federales. Not DEA, but some other group. I don’t…the same who killed Doc…I…Matt Dillon…” The man’s head lolled down on his chest. Rodrigo struck him then, hard. The crack echoed through the cellar, but the man didn’t move. Turning, he glared at Gordo. “I needed more from him, sergeant major.” “I…my apologies, colonel.” Rodrigo started to snarl, then caught himself. He needed Gordo Pascal. Both for his interrogation talents and his ability to get miracles from the men. “It is my fault. I should have suspected the damned monkey did too much cocaine. His heart must have been weak. Dispose of the body.” Disappointed, he trudged back up the stairs, the man’s words bouncing around in his head. Federales he could understand, but who or what was this Matt Dillon? And Doc? The damned Mendoza clan had always been stupid peasants, and he kicked himself for thinking Pancho might have been different. Still, his little band of pretend narcos would note his disappearance, and at least one of them would understand the message in the boat. Now it was up to him to figure out if the words of a dead man had any value. Rico tried to push the memory of the heads in the boat to the very back of his mind. “You know if we go after Garcia we can’t use The Overton again.” “Yeah, I know. We got anything on other dives little Tony might frequent?” Rico flipped through his battered black leather notebook. He knew he should replace it, but it had been a present from his brother, Raphael, soon after he’d graduated from the academy and joined the NYPD. It took insets, so he kept refilling it, but he couldn’t bring himself to replace the stained leather cover. “Rizzo’s. Big surprise. Tiki’s, another strip club. A couple of newer joints over toward Brickell.” “Damn. You think he’ll go for Cooper?” “Good question, Sonny. He might remember Prentiss from when he was buying pot from the Dominicans, but that was a few years back. According to his Metro jacket he’s been picked up a couple of times since then for coke possession. Nothing big, but he was always near something that could have been.” Rico flipped the notebook shut. “It could go either way. We might be better off sticking with Prentiss and trying one of the other clubs.” “Yeah, I was thinking that, too.” Sonny looked away. “You good from this morning, partner?” Rico let the question roll around in his head for a minute before he answered. “I don’t know, Sonny. It’s like just when you think you’ve seen it all in this job something pops up you never even considered possible. I mean, up north we had the Mafia hacking guys up and leaving bits all over the boroughs. But it was usually one guy, and they had to earn it somehow. You know, being a rat or skimming from the take.” He shook his head. “This…” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. This is something else again. Maybe those bozos pissed off some old Voodoo cult or something.” “But there were no symbols. No totems. If it was tied to Voodoo or something like that you’d find at least one totem or a sign.” Rico shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s Homicide’s problem and not ours.” “You said it, pal.” Sonny’s eyes were distant. “Still…it’s a hell of a message someone’s sending if that’s what it is.” “Don’t tell me you admire it.” “No, man. But I’m thinking of the will it takes to do that. And the…hell…I don’t know. Lack of any real restraint.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. It just got to me is all.” “You and me both, partner. But let’s see if we can get a box around Garcia. And maybe try to run down Carrera or Pancho again. My money’s on Pancho.” “Yeah. Once a Mendoza, always a Mendoza. Greed runs in that family’s blood. Carrera’s trained to be a small-timer. Moncado didn’t exactly encourage initiative.” Trudy’s voice cut into the conversation. “You’ll be waiting a day or two on Pancho, guys. According to Customs he flew down to Columbia yesterday. I’m trying to get the rest of his ticket information to see if he had other stops scheduled.” She smiled. “It’ll likely take a warrant, so it might not happen until tomorrow.” “Solid.” Rico smiled across the room at her. “That narrows it to Carrera or Garcia. I’d put my chips on Garcia, just to see what he’s been up to.” “I’ll go with that.” Sonny turned back to Trudy. “You want to go as Burnett’s head of security, Sergeant Castillo? Couldn’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes on the bozo.” Rico grinned as Trudy’s eyes flashed. “Yes, sir, Lieutenant Crockett, sir! I’ll clear it with the captain and be ready to hit the street when you give the word.” She smiled. “And I’ll let you know when the info on that boat comes over from Metro-Dade. I have a feeling they’re going to turn it quick.” As soon as she left the room Rico chuckled. “You’re lucky she didn’t slap the taste out of your mouth.” “I know, Rico.” Sonny laughed along with him. “But it’s just fun to say sometimes. And who would have thought…Trudy Castillo.” He shook his head. “I’d hate to be the idiot who got between those two.” “Yeah. The few who’ve tried have all ended up dead.” Rico didn’t want to give it much thought. It was the tax the Job extracted from time to time. He knew that better than anyone except maybe Stan. Partners died. Hell, brothers died. In the line of duty or from the aftermath of that duty, home alone when no one cared. It wasn’t something he’d thought about much before, but now that he was with Mindy it floated up in his mind when he least expected it. How the hell does Sonny deal with it? He already lost one wife to the damned Job, but then again Jenny can sure look after herself. Jenny. From time to time Rico tried to figure her out. Where she’d come from. How her mind worked. And why she was so damned right for Sonny without even trying. And each time he gave up, but his mind just couldn’t stay away. Mindy he understood because they had so much in common, from jazz to nasty breaks with their families. But he’d never quite been able to figure out Caitlin, either. So different, yet so right for Sonny. Just like Jenny. Shaking his head, Rico forced his thoughts back to work and the problem of putting a box around Antonio Garcia. He’d never actually met the chump, just head about him from some of the Dominicans he’d been working back in the day. Back then he’d been strictly small time, but ambitious. Too ambitious for some of the more relaxed Dominicans. Getting a hook in him shouldn’t be hard, and judging from his recent rap sheet they wouldn’t have to dangle much in the way of bait. “You got that planning look on your face, partner. Fill me in.” “Garcia had a rep back when I was working the Dominicans as ambitious. Some of them didn’t like that, but there were a couple who did. The last time I brought Teddy out he was looking to move up. We can put that word out and see if he bites. Especially if he sees me with Burnett.” “Yeah.” Sonny nodded slowly. “That should work. Burnett don’t mess with little fish. And they know him at Tiki’s.” “And Cooper’s never been there. Or the clubs in Brickell.” “Burnett’s got no rep there unless some of the players happen to be there. We can work them, but it might take longer.” Rico nodded, letting his mind chase possibilities. “Ya know, partner, let’s try one of the new spots. See if us old dogs can learn some new tricks.” He snapped his fingers. “Lester’s in that club scene a bit. Let’s see if he knows anything about these joints.” Lester looked up from a circuit board when Rico walked into the Tech Room. “Sure, I get out to Brickell a bit,” he said. “Which clubs are you after?” “Club Bass and Electro.” “Yeah, I know those two. Electro’s so new it still has that paint smell. Club Bass is a bit older, like two years or so. Things move fast over there.” “Any tips?” “Yeah. You going as Cooper or Prentiss?” “Teddy, mon.” Lester chuckled. “Stick with Electro. Club Bass is hardline techno and trance. He’d stick out there with the rave crowd. Electro’s more varied. They play Reggae and stuff some nights and the vibe’s more laid back.” He grinned. “You’re taking Sonny, right?” “Yeah.” “That should be fun. Tell him to just go with it.” “Yeah. Maybe someday speed will be ‘in’ again and we can go bust bars that only play country.” Rico smiled. “But then he’d have to go in with Stan.” “Don’t be too sure. Stan sticks strictly to the King and the Rat Pack.” “Why am I not surprised? Thanks for the info, Lester.” “Any time, Rico.” Back in their office, Sonny shook his head. “Lester said that, did he?” “Yeah. They’re both dance clubs. Just be glad we’re not going to Club Bass.” “Oh, I am, Rico. You wanna hit it tonight?” “We’ll check with Stan first. If he’s planning on meeting with those biker chumps he might need some extra backup.” It was just after one when the photos and background Homicide promised came buzzing through the main fax machine. Trudy brought them in after she’d run the handful of names through their system. “They said actual photos are coming, but they wanted to get the fax over so we’d have something now.” “Thanks.” Rico looked up from his own notes. “Anything come back on the names?” “They only had three. Three out of eight. And those three were low level.” Sonny looked up. “Let me see.” He scanned the list. “Yeah, I know one of them. He was a driver last I heard. Likely the one they had behind the wheel of the go-fast.” “I still don’t get it. Why go to all that trouble for punks?” Trudy shook her head. “We may never know. Anyhow, I thought you’d want to see those.” “Thanks.” Rico smiled. “And you’ll want to have your dancin’ shoes ready. That chump Garcia likes a club in Brickell called Electro.” Sonny groaned. “And I’m looking forward to it like a root canal. We’ll let you know when it’s a go. I don’t want to run an operation at the same time Stan might need backup. I’m guessing the boss said you could play with us?” “Yes.” She smiled again. “Let me know when it’s go time.” Rico nodded. “Lemme check and see if Stan’s going tonight. If not, we’ll make our play. I’ll have to get into character first, anyhow. Teddy be allergic to Versaci, mon.” Stan had just come up, and he answered Rico’s question with a grin. “Naw. Team Elvis ain’t lacing up the blue suede shoes until tomorrow night at the earliest. Got a call yet to make, and I want to make that moron Skaggs sweat a bit. You kids go have fun.” “It’s a go,” he said to Sonny and Trudy. “I’m gonna go get in character. You wanna just meet me at Electro?” “Not really, but it’s gotta be done.” Sonny grinned. “I’ll bring Trudy and hit you there about nine if that works.” “Righteous, mon. Righteous. We get the good beats rollin’ and the smoke-time flowin’.” “Dear God, that sounds like a Jamaican Noogie.” Rico grinned. “It does, don’t it? I might just keep it around. But at least Teddy don’ like ‘Emingway.” He ducked around the doorframe before Sonny could throw anything at him. Mindy sat on the couch as he changed back at Casa Cooper. “You should let me go with you. I could swat you on the ass again.” “But this time I’d swat back. And that would just get all kinds of strange.” She giggled. “You’re right. I don’t think Sonny’s ready for that.” “But that doesn’t mean I won’t when I get home.” He smiled, shrugging into one of Teddy’s trademark floral shirts. “It’s all in a day’s work, mon. Teddy Prentiss is back an’ lookin’ for action.” It was just before nine when Rico wheeled the big Caddy into Electro’s parking lot and parked between another old Caddy and what looked like a Mustang someone had taken a cutting torch to. He spotted Sonny’s white Ferrari parked closer to the building and grinned. He would have expected his partner to show up a bit late to avoid the music, but maybe Trudy had put the screws to him. Electro was one of those clubs where you felt the music before you could hear it. A faint bass vibration tickling the hairs on your arms before you got closer and your ears started to pick up what sounded like a distant heartbeat. Rico didn’t mind techno, but he wasn’t an aficionado like Lester. Still, what he heard through the walls and the door sounded good. A quick nod to a doorman who looked like he’d snorted his meals for the last three days and Rico was inside. Strobes bounced off the walls and mirrored panels, during red lipstick black and blinding you if you weren’t careful. Rico was careful. Making his way to the bar, he ordered rum, neat, and went looking for Sonny and Trudy. If he knew his man, he’d find them toward the back where you could see the door and have your back to the wall. Again Sonny didn’t disappoint. He’d parked at a table well past the dance floor, in a darker corner within a quick jump of the emergency exit. It was pure Burnett, and once again Rico admired the transition Sonny seemed to make with no effort. But it also worried him. There was a viciousness to Burnett that could come out with no warning. And he still wasn’t convinced Sonny had that side of himself under as strong a control as he said. “Teddy! Long time no see!” Sonny was in full character. “Sit down! This is Peaches, my head of security.” Trudy nodded, her lipstick turning black in the pulsing light. She looked all hood in her tight shirt and jeans and totally dangerous. “Charmed.” “Righteous!” Rico sat down, shifting close so they could talk without shouting as much. “Any sign of our friend?” “I slipped the bartender a fifty. He said Little Tony usually comes in by ten.” Sonny looked at his watch. “So we got a few minutes.” “Cool. I might go mingle a bit and see if I can spot any old friends of Teddy’s. I’m sure Burnett’s got loads of pals here.” Sonny’s smile was thin and pure Burnett. “Not likely.” He turned toward Trudy. “You want to go with him or stay here?” “I’ll sit with you. Look kinda odd if your head of security went wandering off with some random Island dude.” She smiled. “No offense.” “None taken, pretty lady. None taken. Teddy Prentiss be right back, mon.” Smiling easily, Rico got up and started working his way around the big dance floor. Electro might have been a restaurant or a bar and grill in its former life, but the entire center of the building was given over to a slick dance floor with lit squares that flickered and pulsed with the beat of the music. Towering in the exact center was a podium for the DJ, a slender girl wearing oversized headphones who looked totally focused on her work and the two turntables in front of her. The bar was off to one side near the door, and tables in dark alcoves surround the dance floor. But by design the DJ was the center of Electro’s universe, and everyone else revolved around the turntables and mixing boards. Rico brushed past three girls wearing crop tops and skintight miniskirts, their eyes pinpoints from coke and who knew what else, dancing like there was no tomorrow. Just down from them was a skinny guy, at least Rico assumed it was a guy, with a pink feather boa wrapped around his neck and jeans that looked like they’d been sprayed on. Next to him was a guy with no shirt and at least eight gold chains and sunglasses that looked like he’d stolen them from Elton John. It was a wild scene, and he figured he might come back with Mindy at some point just to sample the night life. But this was work, and he had a job to do. Ignoring the breasts that kept flashing out as the girls waved their arms over their heads, Rico scanned the crowd. Looking for familiar faces. He spotted a knot of what looked like Dominicans over by the far wall, and recognized at least two of them as contacts from the old days. He sauntered over, grinning his Teddy grin. “Righteous! Image me findin’ you mans here!” “Teddy!” The bigger one who went by the name Carlo stuck out a hand. “Man, I thought you’d hustled on back to Jamaica.” “I did, mon. But no island can hold Teddy Prentiss!” Rico gripped the offered hand, slapping the big man on a tattooed shoulder. “But now I be workin’, mon. Busy times.” “Ah, you’re lucky, mano. It’s been quiet in our neighborhood since a buncha shit when down. Bad shit, you know.” The others looked at him and nodded like he’d spoken great wisdom. “”Sorry to hear that, mon. I’d be helpin’, but these days Teddy is on the other end of the deal, seen? I be buyin’, not sellin’.” “Can’t help you there, bro. But Little Tony might.” “That rasta? He be the mon I be lookin’ to see. You eye him before me, tell him Teddy Prentiss is in the back with another mon an’ a lady.” Reaching into his pocket, Rico pulled out a hundred and slipped it to the big Dominican. “And now we square, mon. I think I owed you that from last time, seen?” “My man! Hell yeah I’ll send that little puta your way. But you watch him, ok? He’s a shifty little punk.” “Righteous. You boys take care now.” Easing back into the crowd, Rico held back a smile. If Carlo said there was nothing moving in their hood, there was nothing moving. But it didn’t surprise him. After the Task Force took out Doc and sicced the FBI on what remained of the two dominant Dominican gangs the whole place had been quiet as a church on Saturday night. Back at the table he filled the other two in. “Garcia’s the one making the moves as far as the Dominicans are concerned,” he finished, waving for a waitress and ordering more drinks. “You trust this Carlo character?” “No, but if he had action he would have pitched it to Teddy. No question. And I think he’ll send Garcia this way if he sees him. That bunch is all about currying favor, and right now they think Teddy’s a mover and a shaker and they’re just sitting by the side of the road trying to thumb a ride.” Trudy nodded. “Makes sense. I’ll bet most of them are keeping their heads down until the FBI heat goes away. And don’t look now but that might be our boy heading this way.” Antonio Garcia looked like he’d just missed the cut as a stunt double for John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. Or maybe he’d watched Scarface six times too many. Rico couldn’t be sure. But the white tux stood out in Electro as much as a cowboy hat and boots would, especially when the tux actually matched. And he only had one gold chain. Still, from the way some of the dancers waved and clapped him on the back Rico could tell he had a bit of a following. Must be giving out free samples of whatever he’s selling he thought as the thin man of indeterminate Latin origin came closer. Depending on the neighborhood he’d claim either Cuban or Dominican heritage, but never Puerto Rican. “Tony! Mon! Righteous! Carlo said you be here, mon, and here you be.” Getting up, Rico closed the distance and shook Garcia’s hand. “Been too long, mon. But Teddy Prentiss be back and ready to make things happen. Sit. Drink with us.” “Yeah, I ran into Carlo and he said you were here.” Garcia’s voice was as thin as his Errol Flinn mustache and almost as greasy. “I thought you’d gone back to the Islands never to return.” He looked over and did a double take. “Sonny Burnett.” “That’s right.” Sonny leaned back in his chair, the Ray Bans still firmly in place. “You finally find your way out from under your rock, Tony?” Rico raised his hands. “Be still. It’s business we be doing, yes?” Sonny nodded. “Yep.” “Who’s the lady? She available for a dance or something?” “Touch me and I rip your arm off and make you into a popsicle when I shove it up your ass.” “Tony, meet Peaches. She runs my security.” Garcia’s face went pale. “Of course. Sorry. I spoke out of turn.” Trudy’s voice was pure Overton mean. “You did, little man. I’ll let it go. Once.” “Righteous!” Rico waved for the waitress. “Pretty lady? Another round, and get our new friend a scotch. The best. My gift to you, seen?” “Now that we got the social shit done, let’s talk business.” Sonny looked around. “I ain’t got all night.” “Slow now, mon. Tony just got here.” Rico looked over at Garcia and smiled. “Teddy Prentiss be back to do business, seen? Except this time the mon be buyin’ and not sellin’.” “No offense, but you hit Miami at a bad time for that.” Sonny sighed. “I keep hearing that from you under-achievers. I got boats that need work.” “I get that, Burnett. And if I had some you’d be the first guy I’d look for. Even if I don’t like you much.” “This ain’t a popularity contest, jack.” “Why so slow, mon? We hear back home production is up down south.” “You got me, man. Some kinda shit going on down there is all I know.” Sonny snorted. “Turf wars? Fact of life, Tony. Like the little rats sorting things out after old Tico Moncado got shuffled off.” “Naw, Burnett. The way I hear it something else is going on down there. Maybe it’s tied in with that Moncado crap and maybe it ain’t. I’m just a middle man like you. Whatever it is started in Peru or Bolivia or one of them other shit places.” Tony stopped talking when the pretty blonde came back with their drinks. His eyes followed the fifty Rico gave her and blinked when he waved off change. “It’s mostly bar talk, but the way I hear it someone started charging a tax for drugs to move and got nasty as hell if people didn’t pay. At first it was local, then it spread.” “Sounds like a hell of an idea.” “Maybe so. I don’t know much more than what I heard. And that was whispers mostly.” Garcia smiled, showing capped teeth. “Whoever was doin’ it scared hell out of the boys down there. They don’t talk much, and they don’t move no product without payin’ the tax first. At least the ones I deal with.” “So how long we wait, mon? I got resaurces needin’ a place to call home.” “Look, Teddy. It’s tight now, man. I can check around, see what we can get moving.” He looked over at Sonny. “And I take it Burnett’s gonna do your moving for you. Good call. He’s the best going right now.” “You call I haul. And if you try to screw me over I bury your ass.” Garcia laughed, but it was a forced, thin thing. “Same old Burnett. All business. But I guess that’s how you stayed in the business so long.” Trudy leaned across the table. “You sayin’ something, little man?” “No, lady. I ain’t. Not a bit of it. But I ain’t sure I can bring enough in for it to be worth your boss’s time. Not right now, anyhow.” “You make those calls, seen? Let me know, mon. I be here the day after tomorrow. Same time. I don’t see you, I call the deal off.” “Sounds good to me. If I can make a deal I’ll be here. And if there’s a deal, you’ll want Burnett with you. Odds are we’ll have to move fast. With the trouble down south some dudes been takin’ to ripping off other dealers.” “Righteous. We be here.” “And anyone who tries to rip me off ends up gator chow. Might want to let your friends know that, Tony.” “Hell, man. They already do.” He turned to Rico. “Having this guy haul your product is like having insurance, Teddy. Only fools and crazy people cross Sonny Burnett in this business.” Draining the last of his scotch from his glass, the miniature John Travolta got up from his chair and nodded. “Now if you all will excuse me, I gotta go try to get laid. Been a long damned week.” Trudy waited until he’d swaggered off into the crowd on the dance floor. “That is one punk I’d love to take down an alley.” “Yeah. He’s a charmer. No question.” Rico shook his head. “I worked him a couple of times back with the Dominicans. Tony’s a chump, but he’s usually got solid info and if he says he’s coming through with a deal he comes through.” “He carry weight?” “Naw. Usually he’s a broker. The guy in the middle who can duck if anything goes wrong.” Rico looked out over the dance floor, watching the strobes change colors with each passing heartbeat. “You think there’s anything to what he said about trouble down south?” “Gotta be. Nothing else explains the slowdown we’ve been seeing.” Trudy looked at her watch. “I’ll check it out in the morning. But right now you gotta take me back to the office, Sonny. It’s past my bedtime.” Rico chuckled. “And you don’t want to explain to Castillo why you kept his wife out too late.” Sonny chuckled, but it was still the dry Burnett rasp. “You got that right. Let’s hit the road, Peaches.” “I gotta get a better name.” Rico watched as they headed for the door, nursing the last of his drink and thinking about what had happened. He was sure Garcia knew more than he’d said about what was going on with the supply down south, especially in Columbia. The chump had ties there going back a few years, and it wouldn’t be like him to be in the dark. But he also knew whatever it was would come out in time. Garcia was also terrible about keeping a secret. What he’d said about Sonny also stuck. Burnett was a kind of insurance policy. There had been real fear in Garcia’s eyes when he saw Sonny at the table. And Sonny had been deep into Burnett. Maybe too deep. Rico couldn’t tell, and it worried him. He’d seen Burnett come out when Trudy had been shot, and again when they’d been chasing down the Hitler Youth. That side of him was closer to the surface than it had been for some time, and Rico still had the image of Sonny Burnett pointing a pistol at him and almost blowing his head off. Shaking his head, he finished his drink and headed for the door. It was time to get back to Casa Cooper, where he knew Mindy would be waiting with some cool jazz on the stereo and likely not much on herself. And he still owed her a spanking.

They went through it all again the next morning. “Trudy ran the kid and he does come back as some second cousin of the Mendozas.” Sonny nodded in Trudy’s direction. “He was a small-time runner for them back in ’89 and ’90, and then went quiet about the time we, I mean OCB, took them down. DEA picked up his trail a time or two in Columbia, but he stayed small time.” Tubbs shifted in his chair. “But he was claiming he had access to a good source of coke. But he couldn’t get it in. The names he gave us check out. All players trying to move to the next level. Sonny and I will run them down today.” Castillo looked up. “Stay on it. Where are we with Skaggs?” Sonny was half-listening as Stan went through his briefing. He knew the big sergeant would have a solid plan, so he wasn’t too worried about checking it over. Instead, his mind kept circling back to the night before. How could they have only roped in a small-time punk like Pancho? Not too long back they would have been fighting off thirty key deals left and right. Had times changed that much, or was there something to what Carrera had been whining about? Giving up, he tuned back in on Stan’s briefing. “We’ll have the Roach Coach close enough to hear, but not be seen. Dave already checked out the area and found three or four places he can set up and cover us from if things go sideways.” Stan grinned. “Long range fire will give us enough time to break contact or finish things depending on the situation.” “Good. I want to wrap these people up. What’s the plan for the proposed buy?” Randy spoke up. “M-16s and maybe some Berettas. Be nice to know how deep they can go with military hardware. If they can’t swing that we’ll go for any automatic weapons.” Sonny looked up. “You can always toss Burnett’s name out if you need to see how many guns they can get.” “Yeah. We know a guy.” Stan chuckled. “We may do that depending on how it all feels. Skaggs ain’t the sort who gives you a warm fuzzy about something he sets up.” Back in their office, Sonny looked at Rico. “How the hell is it we only come back with some little boot-wearing punk?” “I been asking myself that ever since last night.” Rico shook his head. “We wren’t gone that long.” “Yeah, but you know how fast the game changes.” “Yeah, yeah. ‘You can’t tell the players without a score card.’ I remember you telling me that years ago.” Rico’s laugh was more forced this time. “But this time it’s not just the players, Sonny. It’s the whole game. That bust Switek’s working? Back when we first partnered up it would have been for a few pistols. Hell, we damned near wet our pants over those Ingrams Evan was messin’ with. Now? Stan’s trying to buy M-16s and we trip over UZIs and Tech-9s every damned day.” “I know, man. And the crack? Hell, I still can’t get my head around that. But at least we got two leads to work. And I gotta ride Burnett into the sunset. No way I can start a new cover now.” “That’s the other part, Sonny. Cameras are gettin’ smaller. They’ll be in phones soon. We need those informants more than ever, ‘cause we won’t be able to work undercover like we used to without being blown.” “Now that’s a scary thought, Rico. Hell, it gets to that point maybe we should cash in our chips and really retire.” Sonny chuckled, but the thought stuck in the back of his mind. Maybe Rico was right. “Still, we gotta run those damned names down in case good ol’ Pancho decides to check our work. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that punk Carrera.” Colonel Rodrigo Delacruz finished reading the last page of the report. “You’ve confirmed the targets, Captain?” Eduardo Salazar nodded. “Si, jefe. At least twice as per protocol. They are what the Americans might call ‘small time,’ but they are starting to move up. Our people approached them about taking the proper precautions to move their product, and they told us to piss off.” “And they still live because…” “Lieutenant Orozco wanted to track them to El Notre and get a feel for their network there. Following them was a simple matter, and that’s why Corporal Hildago’s team remains in place.” “And what does this plan accomplish?” “It sends the message you requested. And it leaves just enough members of the target network in place that it can be operated by Hidalgo and his team.” Salazar smiled. “The ones we leave alive will be the illegals in the group. They understand the power of Ocho. They will not fight back.” “So you take out the ones who have become like Americans and leave pliant peasants in place? A good place.” He flipped the report over. “And what of our intelligence gathering?” Salazar shrugged. “It’s hard with no real resources in El Notre, sir. But I have become aware of a man who travels from Miami to Peru on a regular basis. He serves as something of a buyer for one of the growing trafficking rings in Miami. I’ve been able to monitor his communications on at least three occasions when he’s been in Peru. He may have information we could use. And his disappearance would send a message to his organization.” “Take him.” Rodrigo turned to look out the window. “A few sessions with Sergeant Major Pascal should loosen his tongue.” “And the Miami operation?” “Of course. Tell Hidalgo to carry it out as soon as it’s convenient.” Once Salazar left, Rodrigo turned back to his desk and looked at the stack of reports piled neatly on the right hand corner. They told the tale of how his men had slowed the flow of drugs from the region to a crawl. All it took was an application of the methods he was about to debut in Miami. His men were successful because they were the perfect combination of viciousness and precision. More lessons learned the hard way in the mountain villages. If you wanted to terrorize a village, kill the elders. Break up a terrorist unit? Set their commander on fire. Once they feared you all else would follow. The reports also told the tale of the money they were taking in. More and more each day. For drugs to move they paid a tax directly to El Unidad. No tax, the boats exploded. Or your pilots were hacked to pieces and their body parts arranged in a figure 8 on the black deck. But if you paid, Unit 8 kept your rivals away from your trucks and boats, greasing the wheels until the shipment drew close to El Notre and their reach ended. Until now. Without looking he reached out and picked up the telephone receiver and punched a number. “Sergeant Major? Excellent. You’ll have a visitor soon. Be sure to make him comfortable. The captain will give you a list of questions we require answers to, and your guest will have them….No, dispose of him in the usual way. The only message with this one is his disappearance.” It was a few minutes before nine when Stan and Randy pulled their Harleys into the derelict gas station. Shutting off the ignition, Stan let his eyes grow used to the darkness, hearing the ticking of the big V-twin engines as they cooled in the humid air. With the thumping exhaust gone, he could hear bugs chattering and buzzing, reclaiming their place. Randy leaned over the handlebars of his bike and looked over at Stan. “You think this punk’s gonna show?” “I’d bet on it. He doesn’t want to look like a bigger pussy than he already does. What I wanna know is how many guys he’s bringing to the dance.” Lester’s voice crackled in his ear. “Eye in the sky says four bikes, guys. Not coming from town, either.” Stan nodded to Randy. “Copy that, Roach.” He chuckled. “Guess that answers your question.” Reaching up, he pulled out the small earphone and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “We’re going deaf now, Roach,” he said into the watch microphone, hearing the thump of bike exhaust coming closer with every passing heartbeat. Headlights played over them as four big bikes swung off the main road and onto the cracking concrete pad surrounding the derelict pumps. The bikes were a mix of off-the-shelf ‘cool’ Harleys and custom jobs. The last one in sported a serious pair of ape-hanger handlebars reminding Stan of something from Easy Rider. Squinting to keep the light from ruining all of his night vision, he waved his hand and snarled, “Cut the damned light show, Skaggs. No call to advertise we’re here.” Skaggs’ laugh was more of a bark as he shut down his bike. “Chill out, Biggs. Any pigs show we got plenty to greet ‘em with.” “Maybe your idea of fun is to be someone’s cell bitch. It ain’t mine.” Stan let the words sink in for a second. “These the guys you were talking about?” The one on the bike with the ape-hangers nodded. “Yeah. We’re the guys.” “I’m Biggs. That’s Patch.” “Call me Rusty.” The speaker pulled off his Nazi helmet, showing a shock of red hair. “The ugly one who ain’t Skaggs is called Mutt, and my boy over there is Hector.” “I hear you needed to see us before we did business.” “Skaggs does talk, don’t he?” Rusty shot a glare in the man’s direction. “Yeah. Gotta make sure you’re the right kind of people.” Randy hawked and spat on the concrete. “We’re the only kind of people who matter.” “Amen to that. But you never know. And what kind of businessman would you think I was if I took Skaggs’ word?” “Good point.” Stan grinned as Skaggs squirmed on the seat of his bike. “Just so things ain’t confused, we’re down from the Panhandle. That’s our normal turf. Got us some issues with some boys back that way and need to up our firepower a bit.” Randy nodded. “Learned the trade from Uncle Sam, so I’m a bit partial to his tools. Those damned pissants have them little, what are they? Tech-9s. Yeah. Hate those damned little popguns. Only thing they got goin’ for ‘em is rock and roll.” “And no one up there can oblige?” “See, that’s where it gets tricky. The boys with the guns in that neck of the woods ain’t the right kind of people. Cubans. Some of them other bean-eaters.” Stan snorted. “Hell, I can’t tell ‘em apart. But they got a deadlock on the business up there and I like spending my money with the right kind of folks.” Mutt grinned, showing gaps where at least two teeth should have been. “Long drive just for that.” “Hell, we like ridin’. Besides, got some other business down here.” Stan set his jaw. “But I figure that ain’t really your business, is it?” Hector laughed. “Don’t mind Mutt, gents. We don’t.” From the way the three shifted, Stan realized Hector was the one calling the plays. Rusty was his front man. “He ain’t much in polite company.” Rusty nodded, trying to keep the game going. “So you look good, but we might have to make a couple of calls.” “Bigger question is can you get what we need? If not, don’t waste your time or ours.” Randy grinned over at Stan. “Ain’t that right, Biggs?” “Man’s got a point.” “So what’s your pleasure?” Rusty kept up the act, but Stan could see Hector leaning in a bit so he could hear better. “Like the man said, we learned our trade from Uncle Sam. Why they kicked the good ol’ 1911 to the curb I’ll never know, but we need either them or those new Berettas. And some M-16s would look real good sorting out the boys back in the Panhandle. And before you say anything, if we wanted Mini-14s we would have had some punk do a straw buy for us.” Rusty shot a quick glance at Hector while he was pretending to look around. “Military grade? We might be able to accommodate.” “Might ain’t good enough.” Stan started to turn the key in the bike’s ignition. “Been nice.” “Hold on!” Stan had seen Hector’s slight nod just before Rusty did. “We’d have to make calls on that, but we can get M-16s. Real M-16s, not those semi-auto AR-15s some punks are tryin’ to pass off. And Berettas, too. No Colts, though. Damned Feds stashed those but good or sold ‘em to bean-eaters overseas.” “How much?” “How many do you need?” Stan looked at Randy. “Ten M-16s and at least that many M-9s.” The former scout-sniper smiled. “We got friends who want to help put things right.” “You cool with meeting up with Skaggs again?” “If I have to.” Stan chuckled. “We’ll make those calls. If you check out we’ll talk price.” Stan nodded. “Fair enough. Skaggs, be at Bomber’s between eight and nine every night this week. But when this deal goes, we say when and where.” “You seem damned sure you’ll check out.” “Hell, I know we will. And we’ll make a few calls about you boys, too. You’d better check out if you want to see any green.” Stan fired up his bike, echoed a second later by Randy’s turning over. “Look forward to doing business with you,” he shouted as they turned their bikes toward Miami and roared off into the darkness. They were back in the underground garage before the two men could speak again. “That went well,” Randy said with a smile. “Yeah. Did you notice Hector is the one calling the shots?” “How could you tell?” “Rusty kept looking back at him for cues. It wasn’t much, but just enough so you could tell. I picked up on it once Mutt opened his mouth and Hector shut him down.” “Good eye, sarge.” “Naw. I’ve just been around morons like that for too long. They always think they’re being smart by shoving someone else up to do the talking. Good thing we got out cover backstopped by the State Police and a few other people.” “Yeah. I think they’ll get whatever answers they think they need.” Randy shrugged off his jacket. “And I don’t know about you, but I could go for a beer.” “Yeah. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll call Gina to pick us up. We can get a start on the reports and then have someone who can pour us through the mail slot at home.” Stan grinned. “That and she had some meetings with her people and Caitlin’s House. I’d kinda like to know how they went.” “Hard to image the boss running something like that.” Stan showed a thin smile. “He wouldn’t have four years ago. He’s changed quite a bit, Randy. Sonny Crockett used to be the biggest damned cowboy in the department. Didn’t care who he burned to make a case. Yeah,” he repeated, flashing back to Larry dead in the gym shower. “He’s changed a lot. If you told me then what he’s doing now I never would have believed you.” Rico hung up the phone with a grimace. “That’s the last of Pancho’s damned ‘references.’ Another chump confirming that a guy is chump when we already know he’s a chump.” Sonny chuckled. They were still in the office even though it was dark out. Stan’s magic phone let them place calls from what looked like ten different locations in Miami, and it was perfect for the kind of checks they were doing. If anyone looked, Rico had just called from a payphone outside Rumours, and Sonny’s call had been from a payphone at the airport. And they even came with the right background noises. “I still need to buy those two dinner or something for this phone setup.” “Yeah. Without the wonder twins we’d be screwed.” Rico leaned back in his chair, and Sonny could see what he called Rico’s philosopher face slip on. “Maybe we’re fashionably-dressed dinosaurs. Or at least I’m fashionably dressed.” “Naw. You still need cops on the street making the buys and busting the bad guys. Where do you think Stan is right now? He’s out playing biker to make an old-school bust.” “And we’re in here playing with the phone.” “Yeah. I don’t pretend to understand it, Rico. But hell, man, even with those little cameras or whatever you were talkin’ about, they still have to have cops who can spot the players. We can do that. Hell, we’re good at it. We picked those bozos in the boots out last night before Pancho even made his move.” “Yeah. Maybe it’s time for Teddy Prentiss to make a comeback. If the big flow’s shut down…” “Aim for the smaller fish and see where they lead. Prentiss isn’t a local, but he can vibe with these boys better than an uptight New Yorker. And Burnett? He’s almost an institution. They expect to see him around deals.” “Yeah, and like we saw with Pancho they’ll come to Burnett to try to up their status.” Rico looked around. “Are we the only ones left?” “Yeah. Castillo and Trudy took off an hour or so ago. Mindy bailed just before them. And Team Elvis…” “Is out being Team Elvis. If you got nothing planned, I’m gonna head out. See if Mindy’s got any dinner plans…or maybe dessert.” “Yeah, I’m heading out, too. Jenny had another meeting about Caitlin’s House with some people from Gina’s office. She’ll want to tell me how that went.” Driving back to the marina, Sonny found himself turning the idea of Caitlin’s House over in his head. At the time it had just seemed like a way to put his late wife’s money and legacy to good use; to try to turn her murder into a chance for girls who’d had nothing. But over time he’d found himself starting to get more and more interested in it as a reality instead of just an idea he could hand off to someone else. Jenny was waiting for him on the stern deck of Tranquility. He guessed she must have gotten back from the meeting only a short time before, because she was still wearing a black pencil skirt and white silk blouse. Looking out, she smiled when she saw him. “I didn’t expect you back until later.” “Yeah, Rico and I decided to call it quits early. No clubs tonight.” He climbed aboard and took her in his arms. “How was the meeting?” “Good. I think we’ll be ready to house the first girls next week.” “Really? That’s amazing.” “Gina and her unit are really behind this. And Angie did a great job with the hiring.” She smiled. “I just sat and watched.” “I doubt that. But you feel good about everyone Angie hired?” “Yes.” She smiled her soft smile. “No one felt bad to me. And I think Stan checked them all out.” “So that’s what he was doing the other night. Good on him.” “Gina didn’t want him to. Something about using computers or something.” She smiled again. “I didn’t pay much attention.” “If anyone complains they can come to me. It’s all legit. But next time tell Angie to have HR at the House route the list to me. They put it in as a request I can run it. You have to verify medical personnel.” He smiled. “It’s all complicated. Nothing you need to worry about.” “But I do.” She sat back on the cushions. “I want this to be a success. For her. And for you.” She blinked, and he realized she was starting to cry. “And for Will.” He sat down next to her, his arm sliding around her and feeling her pressing against him. “I know, baby. I want that, too. I know Cait would really appreciate all the work you’re doing.” “She does.” Sonny just nodded. He never tried to figure out what Jenny meant when she said things like that. It was just part of who she was, and a part he loved without trying to understand it. He kissed the top of her head. “So next week? How many girls?” “Three to start. We think. Angie and I are going to go over the admittance criteria with Gina tomorrow. So many of her girls applied. It’s scary. They have no place else to go.” “Yeah, but you gotta start with the ones with the best chance. Let the staff get confident, and show the idea can work. Get the easy wins and move on to the harder stuff once the bugs are worked out.” Sonny smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s tough, and you don’t help everyone you want to, but it’s the best way to build up.” “I know. It’s just…harder than I thought reading those stories. Seeing the pictures. I don’t know how you do it every day.” “Coming home to you makes it all worth it.” Reaching down, he turned her head toward him and kissed her. “Let’s go below and I’ll make us dinner.” People here knew him as Ricky Ruiz, a nice enough kid who scraped by and looked after his younger brother Mateo. It was a useful enough cover, especially since Mateo, otherwise known as Private Javier Cruces, was mute and couldn’t speak. Javier’s English wasn’t very good, and this way he never had to say anything. Corporal Lopez Hidalgo planned it that way. Like most of the men in Unit 8 he’d been trained in part by Americans. But unlike most he’d been selected for special advanced training. A handful of them flew from the School of the Americas to a compound in Kentucky where they trained in espionage techniques under the watchful eyes of men they assumed were CIA. Veterans of Vietnam, the older Gringos trained them well, getting them ready to infiltrate Communist terrorist groups and drug gangs alike. And maybe even their own government…the older men with strange scars and hooded eyes always stressed loyalty to their commanders as a cardinal virtue. Hidalgo excelled, graduating at the top of his class and returning home with a set of skills his commanders appreciated and rewarded. Raised in a city, he moved easily in any social setting and had an ear for languages. After a series of successful operations against narcos and two Shining Path cells, the colonel himself called him in and said he was going on a mission to the promised land. El Notre. Hidalgo still smiled when he thought of those early trips. He’d just been testing things; his false papers, his accent, how he’d move and disappear in places like Miami or Dallas. Then he’d go home, smile and play the part of a rich man from El Notre looking for a quick deal. He’d drawn more than his share of dumb narcos into the crosshairs of El Unidad’s snipers. Of course he’d come along when the government turned its back on its most loyal servants and saviors. What man of honor wouldn’t? They’d given up everything to secure the future of their nation, only to have a bunch of elected buffoons piss all over it trying to buy votes from peasants who didn’t even know what century it was. And if the colonel said what the men in office did was wrong, who was Hidalgo to argue? Not that he would. He’d lost friends to the scum the new politicians wanted to placate. Javier touched his arm, bringing his focus back to the present. Though the powerful night binoculars he could see the outline of a boat as it cruised into the narrow waterway. “Make it like Los Plassos,” the captain’s orders said, and Hidalgo knew exactly what the man meant. A message unmistakable to those who knew of El Unidad. He watched as the pilot cut power, easing the boat up to a dock sagging into the murky water. Hidalgo chuckled. The dock wasn’t in any danger of collapsing. He’d reconed it earlier in the day and found it had been reinforced and constructed so it looked weak but was actually strong enough to hold a car. The narcos always through they were so clever. Looking over at Javier, he nodded and raised his own suppressed M-16. Four men on the boat, four on the dock. It was the magic number. Flicking the selector from ‘safe’ to ‘full auto,’ Hidalgo raised three fingers and lowered each until he made a fist. They were perhaps thirty meters from the dock, invisible in dark fatigues and the high grass waving near the water and just high enough to have a perfect view. When his fist dropped, Javier opened fire and he followed suit less than a second later. The suppressors hid the muzzle flash and reduced the bark of the M-16s to coughing pops. Each man fired the tight, controlled bursts of trained soldiers experienced in their craft, Javier taking the men on the boat and Hidalgo dropping the ones on the dock. It was over in perhaps two seconds. He figured they’d each only missed once or twice. Not bad for shooting in the dark. Hidalgo watched for a few moments, making sure no one was still moving, and the ficked on the rifle’s safety. Nodding, he turned to Javier. “It’s time to recreate Los Plassos. The bodies can go in the water.” Sonny was in early the next morning, but still not before the two Castillos. He smiled when he thought about it. It was still a bit of a jolt, thinking of Trudy as Trudy Castillo and not Trudy Joplin. He found a copy of Stan’s draft report in his basket and started flipping through it, curious to see how the meeting had gone. The big guy was solid undercover, and he and Randy made a great team in the right circles. It was something OCB had never done, but now he couldn’t imagine working without it. And as the game changed he figured they’d be more and more necessary. Cliff had been a vision of things to come. He was almost done when Castillo’s voice echoed from the conference room. “All hands.” Rico and Mindy had just come in, and they took their usual seats. Stan and his crew followed suit, Lester sitting close to Stan and Dave and Randy holding down the far end of the table. Trudy settled in next to Mindy, and Sonny took his habitual seat across from Tubbs. “What’s the excitement, captain?” “I just got a call from Chief Deputy Washington. There’s a situation down by Bayside he wants us to take a look at. Metro-Dade’s already on scene, and it looks to be Homicide’s case.” “What’s it about?” Sonny looked over at Rico and shrugged. “If they’re already tromping around what good are we gonna do?” “He didn’t say.” Rico cleared his throat. “He give you any idea what this situation was?” “Only that he’d never heard of anything like it before in Miami.” Sonny chuckled. “Well, I guess Rico and I can drive on over and see what Metro-Dade’s about to screw up this time.” He looked over at Stan. “Good report from last night, Stan. How long you gonna make ‘em wait?” “A day or two. We got some calls to make and I want to see if they sweat about it or not.” “Nice. Come on, Rico. Let’s go see what the fuss is about.” The patrol sergeant who passed them under the yellow tape was pale under his cap. “I heard you two got promoted. And some special duty. Must be sweet.” He stepped around a younger cop who was busy losing his breakfast and coffee all over a shrub. “I been on the job fifteen years and I never seen anything like this.” Sonny adjusted his Ray Bans. “It can’t be that bad, sarge.” “See for yourself.” The thickset man waved toward a candy red go-fast boat tied to a small dock and wrapped in enough police tape it almost looked yellow. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Rico chuckled and bopped a couple of steps forward. Then he stopped. “What the hell…” “Aw come on, Rico. It can’t…” Then Sonny saw what his partner had seen and stopped dead in his tracks. The boat bobbed up and down in the slight current, not noticing the men moving around on the dock or the rapid pops of flash guns as forensics took pictures. But Sonny’s gaze froze on what Rico must have seen. Heads. Just heads. No bodies. Not even parts of bodies. Just heads. Arranged in the boat so their dead, glazed eyes all looked toward shore. His head spun, and he felt his stomach give a little kick. He’d heard stories about CAP Marines finding villages where the VC had cut the heads off the elders, leaving them in piles outside the huts, but he’d never really believed anyone could do that. Until now. Rico’s voice was a whisper. “How many?” “Eight.” The man who answered wore a dark suit and had his badge clipped to his breast pocket. “There’s eight of ‘em. And not a trace of a body. There’s a few bullet holes in the boat, and we got forensics checking that now. But someone hacked those heads off and lined ‘em up there and then sent the damned boat right here.” Sonny stuck out his hand. “Crockett and Tubbs. Lieutenants on loan to the Marshals. Our boss told us to come by and have a look.” “Baker. Homicide. You boys taking this?” “Not that I know of. We’ve got a couple of cases going and I think they wanted us to see if there was any connection.” “Well, those boys aren’t connected to anything now.” Baker forced a dry laugh from somewhere in his chest, and Sonny could see the deadness in his eyes that came from seeing too much too often. “My partner’s over there, losing the rest of her breakfast.” He shook his head. “She’s new.” “Yeah, and this ain’t an easy thing to see.” Try as he might, Sonny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the heads. “I know it’s early, but any IDs?” “We checked their pockets. Nothing.” The dry laugh came again. “Not sure what we’ll get on them. One or two look familiar, but I’d guess Narcotics or OCB might be able to spot a couple of old friends out there. We’ll be sending pictures to them.” Rico swallowed. “Can we get on that list?” “Sure. Might be a day or so while they wade through the mess. We’d hoped to keep it out of the papers for a bit, but judging from the sharks over there it ain’t gonna happen.” Baker jerked his thumb toward a knot of popping flashes and figures just beyond the tape waving their hands and shouting questions. He shook his head. “I know dealers like bumping each other off, but this is something different. I just hope whoever did it don’t make a habit of it. I got enough cases on my desk already.” Sonny nodded toward the boat. “Mind if we…” “Knock yourselves out. I’m gonna go try to fend off the buzzards.” Rico looked at Sonny as soon as Baker wandered out of earshot. “You ain’t seriously going down there?” “Not on the boat, but there’s something…I just can’t put my finger on it.” “Sick is what it is.” “Yeah, but there’s something more. Someone planned this, Rico. If you kill a rival crew you just dump ‘em in deep water and take the boat. Someone went to a bit of trouble to do this.” “Yeah. Like leaving a horse’s head in some fool’s bed. But why that many?” “I don’t know. But I think we’ve done what we were sent to do. Let’s get back and maybe we can figure some more out once we get the pictures.”

Rico sauntered in just before nine, his usually immaculate suit a bit rumpled. He raised his hand as soon as Sonny took a breath. “Not a word. I know the threads are out of shape, but it’s for a good cause.” “Trying to get another trip to the seized property locker?” “Now that you mention it, I am a bit overdue for some new wardrobe.” Rico chuckled. “But that ain’t it. I had duties to attend to before I came in.” “So that’s what you fancy people are calling it now? Hell, I’d just say Jenny wanted a quickie and let it go at that. But us hicks do lead simple lives.” “Speaking of late nights, that reminds me. I did see Izzy on some damned TV commercial.” “You’ve got to be shitting me.” “No. He’s the pitch man for some dump called Pappa’s Porsches.” A loud bark of laughter echoed in from the conference room. “You’ve seen ‘em, too? Gina and I damned near fell out of bed when we saw the first one.” Stan came in, still chuckling. “You gotta see one sometime, Sonny. He’s all ‘Joo need thees car. Pappa has thees car. Women love ‘Emingway.’ And he’s wearing that damned white tux of his.” “Guess that explains why we haven’t heard from him. And if I ever needed a sign the apocalypse was near, this has to be it. Izzy on TV and it’s not one of those daytime scream shows.” Sonny leaned back in his chair. “But I guess I actually feel happy for the little moron.” “Yeah. He’s paid his dues for sure.” Rico chuckled, settling in behind his desk. “You got that intel finally?” “Yeah.” Stan went over it again for Rico’s benefit. Sonny checked out for most of their conversation. He was still chewing on what first Jenny and then Stan had said. He knew Burnett had a reputation. Hell, how could the guy not have one? He’d always thought to use it as leverage in a deal, but never about using it as bait. And Jenny would know. She’d smuggled enough art into the country to know the power of that kind of reputation. But something else about last night kept nagging, too. What Carrera had said about problems at the point of supply. He knew Moncado’s demise had thrown Miami’s narcotics scene into chaos, but could it have done the same in Columbia and elsewhere? And maybe there’d been some blowback from their shutting down the plans of Hoffmann and Jankow. The families had their own closed network for supply, but if they started selling on the open market it would disrupt established relationships. But there was no way to know for sure. Carrera might have been blowing smoke to make up for his own lack of supply. That was one of the problems Moncado’s old people faced; the man had never released his hold on the keys to the supply kingdom. All his relationships died with him, and the underlings were left scrambling to replace both supply and means of transport. Moncado used his own ships to move the drugs in close, and with the entire family business tied up in forfeiture proceedings nothing was moving. The had customers in Miami and South Florida, but nothing to sell them and no good way to get anything to market. Sonny let a small smile play across his face. It had been genius on Moncado’s part, but it also gave Burnett a way in. He was guaranteed transport to most of the people who knew his reputation. Jenny and Stan were right. Rico, once they knew what he was, would bring out the people who actually had product. “Sonny? You ready to go see the captain now?” “What? Oh, sorry, Stan. I was thinking about supply and demand.” Sonny got to his feet. “Let’s go brief this thing.” Castillo listened in silence, asking a question or two toward the end. “So you plan to reach out to Skaggs and establish contact first?” “Yeah. He likes to drink at a dive called Oscar’s. Or he did about six months ago. Most of the regulars there will know him.” “And he’s not locked up?” “No. That was the first thing I checked.” “Good. I want you and Deputy Mather to work together as much as possible on this one.” “That’s the plan, captain.” Sonny nodded as Castillo looked up. “I’m not correcting you, Stan. Just restating your plan. I know you know how to deal with bikers. And I don’t want either of you going into their territory alone.” “Not gonna happen.” Stan shook his head. “I’m not gonna lose a partner.” Castillo nodded, motioning for Sonny to remain behind. “I understand you got one bite last night.” “Yeah. Some leftover from Moncado’s organization named Carrera.” “Keep at it. We’re losing sight of what’s happening on the streets. I don’t like that.” “I’m with you, Marty. This guy was saying something about local dealers having trouble getting product form the source. It’s the first I’d heard of it.” “But that would explain the violence we’ve been seeing around some of the warehouses and cutting operations. If product is slow coming in…” “Go steal someone else’s. I was thinking about that. Moncado set his whole operation up so it wouldn’t run without him. He did supply and transport. All his lackies did was sales. Without him they’re scrambling to get product and transport. I’m gonna part Burnett in a couple of clubs and see who bites. Hell, he’s known for transportation.” “Keep Tubbs with you. Something’s going on out there, and I don’t want my people operating alone.” “I hear ya, Marty.” Sonny started to get up, then turned. “Did Trudy brief you on those tattoos?” “Yes.” “And…” “We know what DEA says. I see nothing to make me think they’re wrong.” “Copy that.” Sonny sighed. At least that was one thing he could quit chewing on. It took Stan almost two days to set up the first part of his operation. The delay wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. Skaggs just didn’t want to be found. Stan looked at Randy and shrugged. “I doubt the moron planned it that way. He’s too stupid. I’m thinking he passed out in some hooker’s hotel room and she ripped him off and left him there.” Randy chuckled. “Sounds like your pal’s a real damned winner.” “Sad thing is he’s smart compared to some of the winners he rides with. Anyhow, I had a friend in Patrol do some checking. No sign of him at Oscar’s but they spotted his bike down by Bomber’s.” “That’s no biker watering hole.” “No, it ain’t. Maybe he’s looking for the hooker who ripped him off or he’s lying low until the brothers forget a hooker ripped him off. I don’t try to figure these idiots out…I just follow ‘em to what I need.” Randy nodded, looking down at his jacket and faded jeans. “We ready to do this?” Stan nodded, shooting a look at Lester. “The comms reading strong?” “Five-by, sarge.” Lester gave a quick thumbs-up. “And with the booster on the bikes I’ll be able to pick you up from a few miles out. I’ll head down to the Roach Coach and leave just after you do. We’re starting at Bombers?” “Yeah. I’ll cue you in when we move. Assuming he ain’t dead in the alley or something.” Lester’s eyes went wide. “You think there’s a chance?” “We should be so lucky, but knowing Skaggs I’d say yeah, there is a chance.” Stan chuckled and slapped Randy on the shoulder. “Let’s ride, partner.” The two Harleys were waiting in the underground garage, locked in a cage away from the other cars where prying eyes wouldn’t see them without a great deal of effort and tripping two alarms and showing up on four cameras. Stan believed in protecting the unmarked fleet. They rumbled to life with minimal prompting, and soon the two were booming through the late afternoon traffic. Shifting on the big bike’s seat, Stan thought back to the last time he’d rolled out as Biggs. Gina had been with him then, a tight leather miniskirt not quite covering her assets as they rode. Now it was him and Randy. Better this way I guess he thought as he downshifted for a light. But I do miss feeling her back there. Still, he knew meetings at The Outlaw were one thing, tracking down Skaggs another altogether. He’d only used Skaggs a time or two, keeping his distance because the man was unstable in addition to being a moron. Too much speed had baked his brain years gone, and you never quite knew what he was going to do when he got stressed out. And it didn’t take much to stress Skaggs. But he was their way in if the ATF report was solid. He kicked on the turn signal, more for Randy’s benefit than anything else, and eased off the main drag and into the web of side streets leading them to Bomber’s. No one knew who Bomber was, or might have been, but the place had blacked-out windows and announced itself in a scrawl of flickering neon. It was the kind of place he might have gone with Larry in the old days, mostly to have a beer or two and maybe watch some boxing but occasionally to meet an informant. Not the high-end powder monkeys Crockett and Tubbs chased, but the guys trying to climb the bars to the powder monkeys. The ones who knew how things really worked and what you needed to do to get things done. Back with OCB he’d made more than a couple cases here. Randy looked at the exterior and grinned. “Seen more than a few dives like this back in San Diego after Basic. I’d lay odds we find your pal Skaggs back by the pinball machine. And don’t tell me they ain’t got pinball machines. All these dives have pinball machines.” Inside it was dark, just cool enough thanks to a laboring air conditioner, and thick with stale cigarette smoke, sweat, and spilled beer. Stan shot a quick look at the TV, tuned to what could have been baseball or water polo for all he cared, and pushed his way to the bar. “Skaggs been in? I been tryin’ to find that moron all day.” The bartender looked up, taking both men in with a quick glance and adjusting his tone. “He’s in the back jackin’ off with the pinball machine. Who’s lookin’?” “Biggs. Me an’ Patch need a word.” “Just don’t break nothin’, ok? Those machines are hell to fix these days.” Stan glared over at Randy, who winked and headed for the back. The closer they got to the back door the more the smell of piss started to crowd everything else out, and Stan didn’t even want to think about what terrors lurked behind the two doors marked ‘ladies’ and ‘gents.’ But the bartender hadn’t been lying. Skaggs was hunched over an old Ghostbusters pinball machine, cussing for all he was worth. Skaggs was a big man, easily over six feet, but most of his bulk was fat and not muscle. A shaggy mustache drooped along both sides of his mouth, and greasy brown hair just touched the shoulders of his sleeveless demin jacket. He looked up, and his eyes glowed with dim recognition. “Biggs, ain’t it? Yeah, Biggs! My man! What the hell you doin’ down here? Ain’t this outa your turf?” “Lookin’ for you, dog meat.” Stan gripped Skaggs’ outstretched hand, careful to exert more force than the big moron might have expected. “This here’s Patch. He’s my bro from way back.” “Any bro of Biggs is a bro of mine.” Then his eyes narrowed. “But what the hell you lookin’ for me for? I don’t owe you no money.” “No, man. But word on the street is you got connections.” Stan leaned in close, mostly so Lester could pick up anything Skaggs muttered. The big man had breath like a dead rhino, and he figured getting closer should qualify for hazardous duty pay and might even be dangerous to his health. “Patch and me been busy up in the Panhandle.” Skaggs nodded. “I heard some talk,” he admitted. “Said you was movin’ flake.” Randy grabbed a handful of Skaggs’ jacket before Stan could blink. “Keep your damned voice down, moron! Biggs, this dude’s not what we need.” “Hey, man! Wait! My bad. My bad. Let’s get some beers an’ talk. Your business is yours. I get it. What I meant to say is you two been doin’ some heavy work.” Stan looked at Randy, arcing his eyebrows. “You think we should give ol’ Skaggs here a second chance?” Randy snorted. “Fine.” “Cool. Get the beer an’ come on back, Skaggs.” Once the big man bulled his way to the bar, Randy leaned over. “Hope I didn’t play that too hard.” Stan shook his head. “Naw, man. It was perfect. Skaggs is one of those ‘law of the jungle’ meatheads, and you just showed him you’re boss.” He chuckled. “After I saved him from those Bandidos I kicked his ass be being pussy enough to get jumped in the first place.” Randy shook his head. “Just when you think they don’t get any dumber…” “You meet Skaggs. And he’s back.” Stan took the cool bottle of Bud and clinked glass with Randy. “Here’s to a good ride.” Skaggs looked from one man to the other. “So...” “Your connections. Yeah.” Stan nodded. “See, Patch and I got some work planned. But we need some hardware for that. And I heard from Paco that he heard from Gramps that you’re the dude to see if you need serious hardware.” “I can get you some hog legs.” “Not pistols, man. Hell, we can get those from the ten year old beaner down the street. Not that I would. I’d rather keep my green with my own, if you know what I mean.” Skaggs nodded, his mustache bobbing. “I do, brother. We gotta look after our own.” “So that’s why Patch and I came lookin’ for you and not some spook in a Caddy. We need good hardware. American-made if you got it.” Randy nodded. “You figure you can handle full auto orders?” “Shit, yes. I know last time you was in this neck of the woods, Biggs, it was harder’n hell to get full auto. Not now. Been a change in management, if you get what I mean.” “Yeah. I heard the Feds scattered ol’ Earl’s fat guts all over some old swamp farm.” Stan chuckled. “He always was an asshole.” “And now he’s a dead asshole. Some of the brothers been pickin’ up his slack, and they only sell to the right people. Whatever you need, they can get.” “Military grade?” “Hell, yes. Not bulk, but they can deliver some.” Skaggs took a long swing of beer. “They don’t like new faces, but I can vouch for you two bros.” He looked around. “But this ain’t the best place to talk business.” “No, it ain’t.” Stan finished his beer. “You got a spot in mind?” “There’s an old gas station out on the Intercostal. Just past mile market three. Meet me there tomorrow night at nine. I’ll bring one or two of ‘em with me and we can make introductions. They like you, they’ll deal.” Stan grinned, then grabbed Skaggs by his ratty mustache. “See that they do.” Pushing the spluttering man away, he turned to Randy. “Let’s go find us some ladies, Patch. Been a long ride.” Castillo waited until Stan was finished before he spoke. “You think Skaggs will come through?” “He’ll try his damndest, captain. Helps him up his status with them and us.” Randy nodded. “He’s a piece of work, but he’s also too damned dumb to lie.” “Go with it. Use your team to cover the meet. If you need more bodies, let me know.” He looked up, favoring the two men with a thin smile. “Good work.” Once they left he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. It was almost time to leave, and he was thankful for that. It was one thing when they were going full speed into an operation, but another when they were sweeping up crumbs like they were now. They’d barely broken a sweat taking down Orgato and his little crew, and this looked to be more of the same. Still, there was something about the Orgato bust that kept gnawing at the back of his mind. The two men with the tattoos. What had they been doing there, and why were Orgato and Falcone afraid to talk about them? It was a little thing, barely worth a mention in the report, but Castillo had survived as long as he had by worrying about the little things. Going all the way back to his time in Cuba. Reaching out, he picked up the note Trudy had typed. DEA had come back with next to nothing. Just some talk about a possible Central American gang connection. It was all about the little things. That and what Crockett had said about there being problems on the supply end of the cocaine trade. What if the two were somehow connected? He spun the chair so he could look out the window at the setting sun. Or maybe he was trying to make something out of nothing. Crack had thrown everything off, and maybe it was effecting the supply side, too. If profits were down, production might drop to force the price back up. He needed to focus on the two operations they had going now, not some tattoo that might mean something but likely meant nothing. “Still thinking about those tattoos?” Trudy’s throaty voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Yes, my love. I’m afraid I am. But we’re done for the day. Anything new to report?” “Stan and Randy are working on their plan for the meet tomorrow. They’ve got Dave and Lester in there, too, and I think they ordered pizza.” She smiled, pushing a strand of thick black hair away from her face. “They’ll be here for a bit. Crockett and Tubbs headed out about half an hour ago. Something about being seen.” She shrugged. “I figured you’d know what they meant. And Mindy’s just leaving.” “Which means it’s our turn.” Down in the parking garage Castillo watched with silent satisfaction as Trudy smiled when the Challenger roared to life. He’d bought her the car before they were married; a red ’71 R/T with a 440 V-8 that had been tuned within an inch of its life. Only later did he find out that had been her dead brother’s dream car. She looked over at him and cocked her head just a bit. He smiled. “Light it up, my love.” Even though he’d spent most of his life avoiding the spotlight, being invisible while others got the attention, Castillo found he enjoyed riding with Trudy. She drove with a ferocious skill, muscling the car through traffic like there was no one else on the road. And the thump of the engine had a soothing quality he’d not appreciated before. The car drew looks and sometimes challenges from young men with more testosterone than common sense, and Trudy would take on any comer so long as he nodded his approval. He almost always gave it, knowing how much she enjoyed doing what her brother couldn’t do. He knew the value of connections to the past, and what it felt like to lose them. All that was left of his was his first name and scattered memories he held close. They were almost to the house when she killed the headlights and idled the car down the gravel road, the V-8 thumping low and the big tires crunching over the fine rocks. It was one of Castillo’s old habits she’d picked up. It let their eyes adjust to the darkness and also preserved the tranquility of his little slice of Asia outside Miami. As soon as they were in the house, Trudy wiggled out of her tight blue dress and slipped on an almost sheer silk robe, tying it loosely around her narrow waist. Castillo smiled, hanging his jacket and tie on the hooks near the door before changing into his own robe and joining her on the wooden deck looking out toward the water. Later he’d make tea and a light dinner, but for now they let the sound of the waves wash the day away from their hearts. In the time they’d been together, and the months since they’d been married, Trudy had slipped so totally into his routines Castillo felt like he couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been there. Later maybe she’d play a bit on her piano, the first thing he’d insisted she move in when they started living together. And he knew he’d joined her routines, too. Like the piano and her rediscovered interest in painting. Together it was like they formed a complete, single person. She looked over at him, letting the robe slip open. “You look like you’re having serious thoughts, my love.” “How could I not, looking at you?” He smiled, reaching over and taking her hand. “Just putting the last of day behind me. I’ll go start tea.” “Maybe I’d rather you started something else.” She tugged on his hand with a strength he knew too well. “That can be arranged.” He smiled again, leaning over and kissing her. Tea would have to wait. Later he sat on the floor in the living room, watching and listening to her pick out the start of a new composition on the piano. It was another of their shared routines. They’d make love and then he’d watch and listen to her play. The act seemed to bring jazz out of her heart and into her fingertips, the notes flowing through the heavy night air like liquid diamonds. She stopped and turned, smiling at him. “What do you think?” “I could watch you play all night. And the song is beautiful. You know I love how you play the minor keys.” He smiled again. “Does it have a name?” “Not yet. That was only the intro.” She stood up and walked over to him, her body outlined in gold by the moonlight streaming through the wide windows. “But it’s getting there.” “It is.” He took her hand. “We have an early morning.” She giggled and pulled her hand from his, running it lower on his body. “I’m not ready to sleep yet.” “Neither am I.” He took her hand again and led her to the bedroom. “Neither am I.” Walking into Topper was like stepping back in time, Sonny decided as he followed Rico past the coked-out doorman. 1985 to be exact. The neon was pastel, the music strictly Hall and Oates with some Duran Duran thrown in for good measure, and the crowd mainly coke trade wanna-bes and some who’d made it but felt like slumming. In other words, a perfect place for men like Burnett and Cooper to see and be seen. At least that was the plan. The bar was glass and chrome, with a string of pink LED lights running along the top rail like an open scrape. Elbowing past two girls in skintight jeans, Sonny ordered a Black Jack and a scotch and turned away as soon as he had the glasses. “Let’s grab a table and see what bites,” he said as he handed Rico his scotch. “Solid.” His partner tugged his Versaci coat a bit straighter over his shoulders. “But would it kill these chumps to at least play some Kool and the Gang?” “That’s later. After the kids go to bed.” Sonny nodded toward a knot of what looked like frat boys chugging cheap beer from plastic pitchers. “So in another ten minutes.” They found their spot and sat, Sonny in his basic Burnett black and Rico rocking Versaci’s latest pinstripes. Sonny had to smile under his sunglasses. Nothing perked Rico up like a trip to the property room after a bust. “How many of them do you think know about Burnett?” “I’d say the two cowboys by the bar do.” Sonny nodded toward two thin Hispanic guys of indeterminate age wearing tooled leather cowboy boots. “They look like small-time boat guys to me.” He chuckled. “Any of Cooper’s friends in the house?” “Maybe one or two of the ladies back in the powder line.” Rico grinned. “But I’m retired from that game.” “Yeah. Mindy would rip your guys off if you got close to any of them.” “Or they might fall off. Wonder how many of them have had their shots?” Rico chuckled. “But you can’t deny we were both due.” “No, Rico. That I can’t do.” Sonny let a quick image of Jenny flash through his mind, then locked down to Burnett serious. “Looks like the cowboys grew some friends. Two of ‘em to be exact.” “Yeah, and from the way they’re puttin’ down the tequila they’re working up their nerve for something.” Rico shifted, making sure he had a clear path to his Walther. “You piss any Mexicans off lately?” “Just that goofball colonel Cliff was trying to go into business with. But these guys don’t look like that.” Still, he watched the four. Rico was right. They were working up their liquid courage for something. Finally one of them worked up enough nerve to saunter over to the table. “Sonny Burnett?” “Depends on who’s askin’.” Sonny raised his head just enough for his sunglasses to reflect the punk’s face. “They call me Pancho. You know, like Pancho Villa.” “And I call you gone. Like gone now.” “Wait! I understand you run transport, si? And you’re very good at it?” “Maybe. But you’re boring as hell. You got ten seconds to be not boring.” “Maybe you hear of my uncles? The Mendoza brothers?” “Old news, pal. Like you’re about to be.” “I understand it is a dry time in Miami, yes? My compadres and I can fix that, but we do not run product. We supply but do not deliver. You can deliver.” “But I don’t know you. For all I know you could be a damned cop.” “Perhaps. But perhaps not.” He looked back at the bar, and Sonny could see them nodding. “I have, how do you say, references? Yes, references. A wise man only does business with those he knows or can check out. Your reputation precedes you, but you need to learn mine.” He pulled a card from the front pocket of his tight jeans. “These are four men you might know. Ask them about Pancho.” Sonny looked down at the card. “I might do that. Then again, I might not.” “My compadres and I are here every night about this time. We will look for you. If I don’t see you after a week I’ll have to assume Burnett is not the man they say he is.” Sonny’s face was without expression. “Insult me again and you’ll be the late, unlamented Pancho.” He left his blazer fall open just enough for the stainless steel frame of his 4506-1 to say hello. “And I don’t mess with nickel and dime deals. Neither does my associate Mr. Cooper. So you’d better keep that in mind, pal.” Rico leaned over, and Sonny almost smiled as the kid flinched. “In New York we feed minnows like you to the sharks. But I’m all about supply. Sometimes minnows can deliver.” “You check those names. Pancho can deliver. Me and my compadres.” The kid gave what he thought was a fierce grin and stumbled back to the bar. Sonny let out a slow breath, trying to keep Burnett under control. “Now what the hell was that shit?” “Minnows hitting the bait.” Rico grinned. “But if he really is related to the Mendozas we might have a break.” “Yeah. We’ll run the alias and then maybe chase these bozos down. I’ll have Trudy and Mindy run the names first, though. Gotta know what kind of scumbags he’s sending us to.” Rico kept watching the four at the bar. “They almost make Carrera and that chump Garcia look good. And the one either just crapped his pants or he’s got a pistol shoved down the back of his jeans.” “Yeah. I’d read some intel that the Mexican traffickers were going heavy for the cowboy look, but I guess you have to see it to believe it. But I’d rather I hadn’t.” Sonny looked at the dregs of bourbon in the bottom of his glass. “You want another one and then call it a night? I think we might have trolled this particular fishing hole dry.”

Ricardo Tubbs couldn’t get the tattoos out of his head. Even standing on the rooftop patio of the condo he called Casa Cooper with his arms wrapped around Mindy O’Laughlin. She kissed his forearm and smiled. “Your head’s still at work, isn’t it?” “Kinda.” He chuckled. “One of ‘em, anyhow.” Now it was her turn to giggle as she pressed back against him. “It’s those damned tattoos. What the hell is it about a number that scared those two chumps so bad?” She shook her head. “Beats me, Rico. We got queries in with the Feebs and DEA, but I’m not holding my breath. Especially with the FBI. They may have a new SAC, but they’ve got long memories in that office.” “Yeah. And we rattled their cage a time or two.” Rico smiled and gave her a quick hug. “And you’re right. I’ll let it be. We can’t waste the Bird on the stereo over some chumps and their ink.” As Charlie Parker’s saxophone notes mixed with the roar of traffic from the street below, Rico considered again just how lucky he was to be with Mindy. He’d given Sonny crap about just going with the flow when his partner had met Jenny, and now he understood just how hard that advice was to follow when you were on the other end. Once he’d learned his son was dead, Rico had resigned himself to being married to the Job until it was done with him. Then he’d turn into one of those bitter old cops making life miserable for his neighbors in some retirement community or another along the coast. It was jazz that first brought them together, followed by their shared losses. She’d lost most of her family ties, and was just drifting with her job. He’d lost pretty much everything at one time or another. Then they found each other and after a few stumbling steps realized just what they had. She’d moved in a few months back, and he’d managed to buy the place with help from Sonny. Now they had a life, and a real chance at a future. It was something he didn’t like talking about. All too often talking had been some kind of jinx. “What do you think our next case will be?” The question came from what felt like hundreds of miles away, and he struggled to bring his mind back. “You know, pretty lady, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any loose ends from this one, and the streets are pretty quiet. Maybe they’ll put us back supporting the high-risk warrant teams.” “That’s good for me, not so good for you and Sonny.” “Yeah, but we’ll get by. Hell, might go write a few moving violations for Traffic and help them hit their quota.” Tubbs grinned. “I’m sure the captain has something stashed away we can work on. Even if it’s gathering intel.” She nodded, pressing back against him again. “I think it’s time to go inside.” He let his hands come up a bit on her body. “I agree completely.” “So the FBI’s got nothing?” Trudy looked at the fax sheet. “So they say, Sonny. They aren’t helpful, but I don’t think they’d hold out on us.” “Yeah. I guess even the Feebs aren’t that dumb.” Sonny glared at the paper, willing the words to change their shape and give him something. “And still no word from DEA?” “No. They’re checking internationally as well as domestic.” “Thanks, Trudy. Let me know if anything comes in.” Sonny turned and looked at the big Miami street map mounted on the long wall of the suite’s conference room. It was covered with markings showing overwatch zones scouted by Dave and Randy, locations of active bugs and phone taps, and assorted notations keyed to an index sheet on the table showing everything from the number of dealers working each corner to what kind of hookers favored which streets and when they were out. Keeping it updated was almost a full-time job, but he’d grown damend dependent on the map. Maybe too dependent. “You starting to see pictures in those dots, partner?” “Nothing new, Rico. Just the same punks trying to get something for nothing.” He pointed at one familiar neighborhood. “At least the Dominicans have stayed quiet.” “Yeah. And no one’s tried to take the turf, either.” “The Columbians are busy shooting each other up over some crack strip down near Little Haiti. It’s all nickel and dime stuff since we took down the last of the comers.” “That and crack’s democratic. Easy to make and easy to push. You don’t need much of a network to get it out on the street.” “That’s the scary thing about it, Rico.” Sonny stared at the map. “It pops up like some damned weed and is cheap and available. Who would have guessed crap like that would be the next big thing? Maybe speed will make a comeback, too. Hell, they can cook that in the swamps with stuff you buy at Walgreen’s.” Before Rico could reply, Castillo’s office door opened. “Crockett, Tubbs. My office. We’ve got a new case.” Sonny looked at his partner and grinned. “No rest for the wicked, eh, Tubbs?” “Just when I was starting to get all lazy and comfortable.” Tubbs grinned back. “On our way, captain.” Rodrigo looked up from the reports. “Tell me you have news.” Captain Salazar nodded. “Yes, jefe. We do. Our two men are dead, not taken prisoner. They attempted to engage police conducting a raid on the target warehouse and were killed by counter-snipers.” “And the locals?” “They were arrested. As near as we can tell they did not talk, not that they could say anything in any case. They know nothing about El Unidad.” The Unit. That’s what the men had started calling the organization. Outsiders called it Ocho if they dared mention any name. “Are you certain?” “Of course, colonel. We never dealt with them. Our team was there to gather intelligence and await further orders. Corporal Valazquez was not one to ignore his instructions.” “What do we have on those locals?” “One is certainly ignorant. But the other, Orgato, has been to Columbia and Peru many times in the last few years. It is possible he has heard of us.” “What do we know about this unit that took out our men?” Salazar shrugged. “Not much, I’m afraid. Our network in El Notre is not as strong as I would like. But we keep hearing rumors of some kind of special unit.” He paused. “Do you recall Tico Moncado?” “Some peasant from El Salvador, wasn’t he? Later did some contract work in Peru?” “That’s the one. I think he was a major. He was working with a gringo.” “Maynard.” Rodrigo spat the name like a curse. “Yes. Anyhow, they were both killed along with the bulk of their men at an estate in the Florida Keys. Soon after the gun-runner they worked with was also killed. The same unit was said to be involved. I’ve also heard unconfirmed reports that the same unit was somehow involved in what happened in Bolivia.” Salazar paused. “What troubles me is I can’t pin down anything on this unit. They are like ghosts.” “And I do not let ghosts interfere with our plans.” “So the operation continues?” “Yes, captain. Our people are in place?” “Yes, sir. They are waiting for orders.” “And those buffoons still refuse to cooperate?” “Yes. You know how Columbians can be when they feel their precious honor has been insulted. They refuse to pay the agreed-upon amount.” Rodrigo sighed. Always it was the same at first. The agreement. The refusal. The message. And then abject apologies and payment. It would be so much easier once they had their own networks. Their own transportation out of the production and processing regions. “You know what to do.” “Si. We show them El Unidad means business.” He paused. “Do we do this the traditional way?” “Of course. The Americans taught us well, Eduardo. It’s time they see what their students have learned.” He looked out the window. “Which team is in place?” “Corporal Hidalgo’s.” “Excellent. He’s experienced and knows just how far to take things. He’ll also know to leave the area of operations and await further orders. The message is to be delivered and that’s all. For now.” He turned back to Salazar. “But we need our own networks, Eduardo. Maybe we can step into the shoes of these peasants once they’ve been taught their lesson?” “I’ll begin planning, Jefe.” “Good. And keep digging for this special unit. If it’s not a ghost I want to know more about it. Or maybe the Americans just got lucky.” Once Salazar saluted and left the room, Rodrigo walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Good mountain brew, not that mule piss the Columbians peddled to the world behind that ridiculous peasant with the mule who produced the ‘coffee.’ He wouldn’t be surprised if the Americans had some sort of special unit out there working these cases. With their resources they could have a special unit for nose-picking…one for each nostril if they felt the need. But he wasn’t going to let such a unit interfere with his plans. If they existed, he almost felt like he owed them one for taking care of both Moncado and Maynard. Moncado had been a thorn in his side for years; a gutless, half-trained amateur trying to do a man’s work and failing miserably. And Maynard…that puta had always been too arrogant for his own good. But they’d had a large organization and money behind it. Having them out of the way gave his people room to step in without a costly battle. He smiled and sat down. Without knowing it, Captain Salazar had identified their target for him. If he knew Columbians, they’d be squabbling like children over the remains of Moncado’s routes. It was time to show them what an adult could accomplish. Reaching for a yellow legal pad he started writing in a firm, clear hand. His mother had always insisted clear penmanship led to clear thinking, and he believed there was something to her idea. Sonny looked at the report and then at Castillo. “They seriously want us to work this?” Rico nodded. “It seems more like ATF’s turf, captain. No offense to the chief deputy.” “I agree.” Castillo rested his hands on the top of his desk. “But the Miami office is still rebuilding after that fiasco with Holmes and his men. They just don’t have enough field-experienced agents to work this one.” “Yeah. They did step in it out there. No question.” Sonny looked at Rico. “Guess we get to chase gun-runners again. Or at least provide support. Burnett’s not viable with that crowd any more.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. Cooper might be, but he can’t just drive out there and sniff around. But I know someone who could…” Stan was sitting at his desk when Sonny stuck his head through the tech room door. “Hey, Stan. You know where I can find a big biker dude called Biggs? Runs with a guy called Patch?” “Seriously?” Stan put down a small screwdriver and looked up from the pile of electronics he’d been working on. Sonny couldn’t identify anything but the screwdriver. “Yeah. We just got handed a case involving guns coming down from Lauderdale. ATF’s still trying to rebuild after that shit-show with Holmes and his rednecks, so Pete volunteered us.” “Team Elvis is ready for duty, Sonny. Just give the word.” “Consider it given. I’ll get you the intel as soon as it comes over from the Federal building. You think you’ll need Randy, too?” “Doesn’t hurt.” Stan scratched his beard, and Sonny felt like he could see the gears turning in Stan’s head. “I’ll work up a plan as soon as we have the intel.” “Castillo didn’t have much. Not yet, at least. Sounds like they might be some of good ol’ Earl Lester Holmes’ boys who didn’t get swept up when we took his bunch out.” “Makes sense. Lie low a bit and then come back with whatever stuff they hid away and maybe open some new contacts.” Stan chuckled. “And it’ll give Gina a chance to wear her biker chick outfit again.” “She’s not with the unit now.” “Who said anything about it being at work, Sonny?” Sonny laughed. “You got me there, pal. I’ll drop the intel by as soon as we get it. You might want to pull in Trudy or Mindy, too.” Back in their office, Sonny sat down with a sigh. “Stan’s read in,” he announced. “Yeah, and we’re riding the bench. Again.” Nodding, Sonny leaned back in his chair. “Maybe we should go take a crack at those two assholes from yesterday.” “Orgato and Falcone? They’ve already been transferred. Seems they had some outstanding warrants from South Carolina. Murder.” “Damn. Maybe we can go hit a club or two. See what action we can shake out as Burnett and Cooper. Or maybe…” “Don’t say it! I ain’t talking to that chump Izzy!” “Yeah, you’re right. Izzy would call if he had anything. And his day’s pretty much done, I think.” “You know, I think I saw the little chump on TV the other night. Doing an ad for one of those used car places.” Rico shook his head. “Or maybe Mindy and I had too much to drink at Downbeat.” “Ya never know with that bozo, Rico. But I just feel like we gotta do something other than warm our chairs.” “Yeah. I hear you. What about tonight?” “Sounds like a plan. I’ll let Castillo know. And give Jenny a call.” “I might bring Mindy. Give her some undercover experience. And Cooper always looks better with a pretty lady on his arm.” “You got that right.” Castillo waited until Sonny was done. “And the purpose of this is?” “Gathering intel and trying to make some new contacts.” Sonny looked down at the floor for a moment. “Rico and I are kinda out of the game, Marty. Most of our old contacts are dead or in prison, and we’re not making as many new ones as we’d like. The game’s changing out there, and we need to stay on it if we want to be current. I’ve got Stan working the ATF case, and he and Randy are perfect for the undercover work there. Rico and I would just be in the way.” “Has the intel come in?” “Not yet, but we’re expected it within the hour. I just let Stan know so he could start planning. He’s still got that Leo bozo and one other contact at least he can use. It’s too lowball a case for Cooper, they don’t need Burnett’s transportation, and Prentiss has never dabbled with guns.” “Do it, but stay in contact.” Castillo looked up. “I know the game’s changing. We’ve become more direct action and less investigative. Part of that’s the amount of intel we can gather without informants. But we need to stay in touch with the street.” Rico looked up when Sonny came back to the office. “Did he buy it?” “Yeah, but we need to stay in touch with the office. He feels the change, too, and I think it worries him.” “Solid. Let’s pick out some clubs.” Sonny nodded, but there was still an itch in the back of his brain he needed to scratch. “I’m gonna see if that DEA search came back with anything. You want me to bring Mindy back with me?” Rico nodded, and from the look in his eyes Sonny knew he was already running through the list of clubs he had in his head. Mindy and Trudy looked up from their computer screens when Sonny knocked on the door frame. “You ladies get any love from DEA yet? And Mindy, we got a job for you tonight if you’re interested. Cooper needs a date to go clubbing.” She smiled. “I’ll have Trudy help me pick out a dress. And yes, we got something. But it’s not much. DEA’s got some reports of a gang out of either Peru or Bolivia that seems to be acting as contract enforcers for some of the cartels down there. They’ve got a thing for big public messages and have even beheaded a rival or two. DEA’s people down there say they use the number eight as kind of a calling card. But that’s all they have.” “Any record of them being in the States?” “No. They’ve been reported mostly in Columbia or Bolivia, with some activity in Peru. But the information’s sketchy.” She shrugged. “DEA doesn’t seem too concerned so long as it’s traffickers gunning each other down.” “Yeah. Thanks. Maybe our pals heard the stories and thought these guys were somehow connected.” Sonny shrugged. “Come on over and we’ll give you the run-down on tonight.” It was just after ten when Rico pulled up outside The Overton. Why someone would name a club after one of the toughest neighborhoods in Miami had always been a mystery to him, but it was familiar ground. A good place to start tonight’s trolling. He still couldn’t get over how hot Mindy looked in the tight emerald green dress that ended about three inches above her knees. Between that and the stiletto heels she’d turn plenty of heads. And no one would suspect she was checking the place out more than he was. She caught him staring and giggled. “At least I can see you approve of my disguise.” “In more ways than one.” He shifted, adjusted the fit of his Armani suit coat. “We make quite the couple, don’t we?” “And the beard makes you look more dangerous.” She ran her finger along the side of his face, making him wish he was going somewhere private with her. “Now let’s go to work.” He could feel the bass from the Overton’s sound system when they were within fifty yards of the club. It was still a sea of neon and stainless steel, but it was changing with the times, too. The retro disco had been replaced by techno, and the crowd was a wide mix of the mid-level of Miami’s underworld. With Mindy on his arm he nodded to the doorman. “Sonny Burnett is expecting me.” The big Hispanic nodded. “You must be Cooper and the plus one. Mr. Burnett told me to expect you.” He unclipped the velvet rope. “Thanks, Tino.” Rico slipped the big man a fifty. Mindy nuzzled against his shoulder. “How does Sonny do that?” “Tino worked for the Manolo cartel, and then for Sonny during…that time.” Rico still didn’t like talking about the time when Sonny had become Burnett. Too many bad memories. And it’s still lurking in him. “He still thinks he can get back on the inside, and Sonny throws him a bone now and then, I think. A handy dude to have in your corner, though. Doormen hear and see everything.” The line at the bar was three deep, and Rico guided Mindy around the throng and headed for the back booths. He spotted Sonny right away, the shades and dark blazer a dead giveaway Burnett was in the building and looking to do business. He looked up and nodded. “Cooper. Good to see you.” Rico did his New York gentleman act, helping Mindy to her seat before sitting down himself. “What’s it look like tonight?” “Tino says there’s a couple of climbers here, but I ain’t seen them yet.” Sonny’s voice was cold, distant. His Burnett voice. “Just the usual collection of college kids and middle-age rejects trying to score.” “Any idea who the climbers are?” “He said one of ‘em is Raphael Carrera. He’s another of good old Tico’s boys who’s out of a job now. The other’s a name I haven’t heard before. Antonio Garcia.” Rico nodded. “Him I know. Small-time chump who used to score pot from the Dominicans.” “Does he know you?” “Not on sight. He might have heard of Prentiss, but we never did business.” Rico smiled and gave Mindy’s hand a squeeze. “Now we need drinks if we’re gonna blend in.” Five minutes after a dyed blonde in a cocktail napkin-sized dress dropped off their watered-down drinks, Sonny sat up straighter. “Over by the brunette who looks like she just did four lines of crank? That’s Carrera.” Rico peered through the pulsing strobes, just making out a thin man with aviator sunglasses and cowboy boots. “He looks like a chump.” “He is a chump, partner. But tonight he might be our chump.” Sonny got to his feet. “I’m gonna go say hello.” Mindy watched as he cut his way through the crowd. “How does he do that?” “He’s a master. You’ve seen me deal as Cooper? Sonny can do that with violence.” Rico squeezed her hand again. “Me? I’m either fightin’ or lovin’. But he can run it right up to the edge and back it down again.” He watched as Sonny reached Carrera. “Like now. That chump’s about to piss himself. Watch how he gets the dude back over here easy as you please. One grab on the arm, then a couple of words. And here they come.” Sweat was streaming down Carrera’s narrow face, glittering like liquid diamonds in the pulsing strobes. Rico suppressed a grin as Sonny pushed him into an open chair. “Raphael Carrera, this is Cooper. I hear you’re moving up in the word.” Carrera’s voice was high and rapid-fire from a few lines of his own product. “You take me away from my lady to talk, Burnett? I should…” “You should nothing, pal. Here I try to do you a favor and you show me disrespect. You really think that’s wise, Raphael?” The man’s jaw moved, but no words came out. Finally he swallowed. “No, Mr. Burnett. I didn’t mean that. But now that Moncado is gone we are all looking to move up.” “Glad I never got mixed up in that shit show.” Sonny’s grin was a flash of teeth under his sunglasses. “So what do you do now, Raphael? Sell fake shoes to old men?” “No. My crew has connections. Lines of supply. Not as much as Moncado, but we can still bring in good product.” Rico leaned forward, deciding he needed to put himself in play now. “See, that interests me. And the people I represent. But I gotta admit, we don’t trust much out of Miami these days. Too much trouble.” “And who the hell…” “Mr. Cooper’s a good client. Down from New York City.” Carrera swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “New York City?” “That’s what the man said.” They went back and forth for a few minutes, but Rico quickly tired of the game. They weren’t going to bust Carrera for anything, and his value as a source of information seemed limited. Looking down at the Rolex that had once belonged to a Panamanian dealer, he shook his head. “You should get back to that girl, Carrera. Maybe she’ll believe the crap you’re spouting.” “I don’t know what it’s like up north, Cooper, but things are tough down here. With Mr. Moncado gone every two-bit punk thinks he’s the next Escobar or something.” “Sounds familiar.” “Look, man. I’m serious. We’re catchin’ it from all sides. The cops. Other guys thinking they can take what’s rightfully ours. Supply chain problems…” “What problems? You can’t move the product fast enough?” “No, man. That ain’t it. It gets interrupted at the source.” Carrera raised his hands palms up. “I ain’t heard nothing about no big busts down in banana land, but something’s messing with supply on that end. We’re bringing up what we can, when we can, but it ain’t dependable yet. And that ain’t on us.” Sonny started a slow clap. “Congratulations, Raphael. You just cried enough for five two-year olds.” He turned to Rico. “Sorry to have wasted your time, Cooper.” “It’s all good. Maybe we can find someone who doesn’t have supply problems.” Carrera laughed. “Good luck with that, bro. It’s hittin’ us all. I wouldn’t expect Burnett to notice ‘cause he’s strictly pick up and delivery. But if you’re dealin’ with the source you see it.” “Thanks for the tip.” Rico looked at Sonny, who gave a slight nod. “We might be in touch.” “I’m here, bro. Damned near every night.” Carrera stood up. “And now I gotta go find that lady. She has this thing she does…” Once he was gone, Rico turned to Mindy. “What did you think?” “I hope he’s had his shots if he goes back to the brunette.” Mindy smiled. “But I think he’s serious about there being some kind of supply problem.” Rico nodded, looking over at Sonny. “You wanna try to find this other chump or move on?” “It’s almost midnight now. Let’s try one more and call it a night. I think we can count good old Raphael as a source now.” It was after two before Sonny Crockett started down the dock toward Tranquility. The second club, a dive called Afterglow, had been a total waste of time, and he’d called it a night. He guessed Rico and Mindy were heading for Downbeat, but right now he just wanted some fresh air and a break from Burnett. He found it easy to drop into the cover now. Maybe too easy. The dock lights were faint, and he stood for a moment breathing the salt-tanged night air, a dark shadow among other darker shadows on the weathered boards. Feeling Burnett sink back into the shadows of his mind. Only then did he continue on and climb the gangplank to the home he shared with Jenny. The boat was dark and quiet, the candle she often left burning a memory in the small lantern he’d bought for that purpose. He shrugged off his dark blazer, hanging it in one of the narrow closets she’d added to the master berth. She’d extended their berth on the starboard side up to the saloon, leaving the small port berth intact in case they ever had company. It still amazed every time he went below. She stirred as soon as he sat down on the bed. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said, her voice still throaty with sleep. “I wanted to stay up…” “No. You sleep. You’ve got a meeting with Angie in the morning.” She propped herself up on one elbow, the sheet falling away from her upper body. “How did it go?” “Tonight? Waste of time for the most part. We did get one punk who might be useful, but that was it.” He signed, running a hand through his hair. “It just reminded me how out of touch Rico and I are with what’s happening out there. Used to be we could hit The Overton and one other club and come away with five or six leads.” She smiled her soft little smile. “Maybe you need to let them come to you. Burnett’s got a reputation, right? Use it.” “You’re right.” He smiled, pulling off his linen slacks and draping them on one of the sideboard seats. “Hell, half the doormen in town want to work for me. Maybe next time we’ll try just parking someplace and see who shows up.” “Hold court.” She reached out and pulled him down to her. “But now I want you to hold me.” The next morning Sonny managed to beat Rico to the office. Stan was already there, going through the files that had finally come over from the Federal building. “Coffee’s on, Sonny,” he announced with a grin. “I wanted to get a head start on this gun runner thing.” “How’s it look?” “ATF really doesn’t have much.” Stan waved a dismissive hand at the files. “A couple of names. A couple of rumors. And what might be a case or two of M-16s or rusty pipe depending on whose report you read first. But I did recognize one of the names. Old friend of mine. Skaggs. Dumber than a a box of left-handed monkey wrenches, but an old-school Nazi type. If he’s involved it won’t take me more than thirty seconds to be involved, too.” “Does that include Randy?” “More or less.” Stan looked around. “Skaggs might not trust him right off, but I think we can make it work.” “This guy sounds like a real winner. How’d you meet up with him?” “I kept him from getting his dumb ass kicked by four Bandidos back when I was working a speed case around The Outlaw. I manage to run into him now and then and buy him a beer or two. Morons like that don’t have many friends, so it doesn’t take much to keep him on the hook. He’s patched with the Aryan Brothers, but I don’t think they take him too seriously. But they do like their guns.” “Yeah, and according to the file our friend Holmes wasn’t into selling them much.” “Bad for business. If they go shoot up a synagog or something and it tracks back to good ol’ Earl he gets shut down by the Feds real quick.” Stan chuckled. “Of course he did get shut down by the Feds, but not because of Skaggs and his moron bros.” “Let me know when you’re good to go and we’ll brief the captain.” “You guys have any luck last night?” “Naw. Not as much as I’d like. We got one guy sort of flopping on the line, but it ain’t like the old days.” He grinned. “Tonight maybe we’ll just sit back and let them come to us.” “Why not? Burnett comes up in chatter now and then, you know. He’s got quite a rep. You might catch a few fish just by being available.” Nodding, Sonny slapped Stan on the arm, surprised as usual by the muscle he felt there. Stan was a great example of looks being deceiving. He looked big and slow, but he could put a serious hurt on someone if he got annoyed enough. “I’ll be in the office if anyone needs me.”