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Castillo turned a page in the file. He could feel the old, familiar anger building up but kept it under tight control. Now wasn't the time. “You were right to think of this, Rico.” “Was there something there?” “Yes. CID doesn't use as big a black pen as the Company. There's a report here by one of their field agents documenting an interview he had with a member of 'another government agency,' which usually means the CIA. This agent tried to claim CID was interfering in an ongoing operation. They didn't believe him, but the interview was in 1972. The last combat troops were leaving the country, and CID was overtasked dealing with that.” “I don't follow.” “The agent's name was Menton.” “That cat you almost killed back in OCB?” Castillo nodded, only just trusting his voice. “Yes.” “How the hell...” “Menton was his connection to the China White. And probably how he got back to the States without triggering any alerts. False passports are a currency in his world.” Sonny glared at the map. “We just can't get away from that bastard and his legacy, can we?” “Maybe we will this time. I don't think he's involved in what this Delgado is doing now, but we can even it up for what he did in Saigon.” Castillo thought back to his liaison work in the Delta and the capital city. All the GIs he'd seen strung out on heroin. How deeply the trade was imbedded in Soul Alley and some of the other deserter enclaves in the city. He hadn't been able to make a dent then, in part because of people like Menton and in part because it wasn't his job. Now Menton was in prison and it was his job. His only job. Turning, he looked at Mindy. “Good work getting this file. Did Dave and Randy report in before they went home? Good move telling them to get some sleep. We'll need them tonight.” The redhead nodded, blushing at the praise. “Thanks, captain. They left a full report and updated the map with sightings. It looks like Doc...I want to keep calling him that, sorry, doesn't go out at night unless he's checking the lines. The restaurant closed at eight, and the last of the staff left by eight-thirty. They spotted what looked like two, maybe three people moving around inside. Doc had one visitor just before close. They thought he looked Puerto Rican, and he stayed a bit after the staff left.” “Probably Doc's other hand.” Sonny shook his head. “Let's just keep calling this punk Doc. It's how we know him, and how we'll end him.” Castillo nodded. He didn't want to dignify the man with his real name. It seemed better to use the name the street had hung around his neck. “We go tonight. At 2100. After the staff have cleared the area. Tell the warrant team I want them here for a pre-launch briefing no later than 1800. We need to have them up to speed before we run through any paper drills.” He looked at Mindy. “I understand they are good at their jobs. But I want them to be familiar with my people and our methods. And that this won't be a normal warrant raid.” Sonny nodded, looking through the folder. “I think we can expect some booby traps in here, Marty. Doc has a thing for them. I know we said that before, but it bears repeating. We're going in at night, and it'll be dark. It's hard enough to see a tripwire in the middle of the day, let alone in a dark hallway with shadows and who knows what kind of crap in the way.” In the following silence, Castillo made a decision. It went against medical advice, but he didn't care. “I'll be with you on this raid. I'll keep toward the back so I don't slow anyone down, but I have to be here.” Sonny nodded. “With Menton in the mix, no matter how far back? I'd agree with that, Marty.” He looked over at Trudy. “You'll be next in line with him, Trudy. Don't worry.” Castillo looked at Sonny and nodded his silent thanks. “That's all for now. We'll meet back here at 1730, so we have half an hour to get things in order before the warrant team arrives. We'll need to be moving no later than 2030 so we can be in position to execute the raid. I'm also going to see if they have a team on hand to hit the warehouse right after we go in. No one walks away from this one.” Part of Sonny wanted to leave the building. To go spend a few hours with Jenny before the raid. But he knew he couldn't. As the operational commander he had to plan the raid, to go through and coordinate the moving pieces as much as possible and then stand back and hope it all worked once the bullets started flying. He cornered Dave and Randy as soon as they came in. “We go tonight at 2100. I'll need you guys somewhere where you can provide overwatch of the building. Use the M-21s just in case it gets loud and we need firepower.” “It's not far out enough to need the bolt guns.” Randy nodded his agreement. “And we'll use a spot near where we did the surveillance. Not the same one, cause you never use the same hide twice.” “Good. Will you be at the 1730 or 1800 briefings?” “Likely not. We gotta get in position and then let things quiet down. We've worked with those teams before, though, so we know how they roll.” “Good. I'll let them know we have snipers in position.” Sonny grinned. “We're closing this bastard out tonight, gents.” “Last thing we need is another news story about some psycho vet dealing smack.” Dave snorted. “The quieter this is, the better.” “Castillo agrees. And Army CID wants this bastard, too. I have a feeling he'll disappear into the Federal prison system before you can blink.” “Assuming he comes out alive.” “That's true. Robbie and I had to go after deserters a time or two and it was always a gamble. You never knew if they'd give it up or try to take you and them out with a frag.” Randy slapped Sonny on the shoulder, a huge display of affection from the otherwise taciturn sniper. “You be careful in there, boss. The captain too. It would suck to have to break in a new boss.” “I'm always careful. Just like you two.” Dave chuckled. “Then we're all screwed. And us without GI life insurance this time around.” Rico watched them go. “I'm glad they're on our side.” “You and me both, Rico.” Sonny looked at the map. “You want to give me a hand running through this? We'll have to adjust once we meet that team and understand its capabilities, but I'd like to have at least a sketch to hand them so we don't look like total assholes.” There were five men on the high-risk warrant team; all big, burly guys in jeans and a variety of t-shirts wearing ballistic vests with 'Marshal' printed on them in white letters. All looked to be former military of one stripe or another, and walked with the quiet confidence of men who'd done this before and would do it again before the week was over. But they didn't have the SWAT arrogance, which Sonny found refreshing. He'd hated worked with them because it was always their way or no way. This team walked in and the leader turned to Castillo. “We're here to help, captain. Just tell us the score and we'll fit in where we know we can help.” Castillo nodded. “I'm still on limited duty, so Lieutenant Crockett has operational command.” The team leader nodded. “You're the one who got shot by Maynard, right? Hell...it's good to see you walking and ready to fight after a hit like that.” Then he turned to Crockett. “Where do you need us?” “You guys are the entry experts. My team's mostly narcotics in background, with a heavy undercover focus. We'll stay out of your way and support where we can.” Sonny pointed to the photos and sketches of the building. “This restaurant's the target. Our sniper team did a visual recon last night. They're in position again right now, so we'll have top cover the whole way in. Comms are also provided by us. Those two” - he pointed to Stan and Lester - “run the show and are experts at what they do. We'll be connected the entire time.” “So what do we know about the target?” “We think there will be a maximum of five, maybe six people inside. All hostile. Our overwatch will verify when the last worker leaves. The primary target is Carlos Delgado.” He handed photos around. “Street name is Doc. He's a long-term heroin dealer, going back to Saigon in the late 1960s. He's killed before and will do so again. He's also got a fondness for booby traps, mostly trip-wire grenades. The building has two stories, and we expect the bulk of the traps will be on the second floor and routes leading to it.” The team leader, who went by the nickname Brick for reasons Crockett found obvious, nodded. “Securing his line of retreat. Makes sense.” “We haven't been able to do an interior recon. We want to get this guy before he smells a rat and disappears. But we did find floorplans from a renovation about ten years back when he expanded the restaurant. We don't think anything's changed since then. He's got an office on the ground floor with a private staircase leading up. There's a second staircase here and another here.” He pointed to them on the sketch. “Our shooters can cover the exits and the roof, so he's go nowhere to go once we come in.” Brick nodded, and turned to his team. “We'll breach as usual, with the task force personnel in the back of the stack.” He looked around. “No offense, but we have our drills.” “None taken.” Rico chuckled. “We'll just stay out of your way and cover your backs.” “That's actually a great help. We worry most about missing someone and having them pop up behind us.” Brick turned back to business. “Breach doors with distance because of the potential for booby traps. That means shotgun slugs, not the ram. And don't go kicking any doors. I don't want to have to explain to the chief deputy why someone lost a leg.” Sonny watched with growing admiration as they 'moved' through the map, planning each door and staircase as if they were already there. “The stairs will be the biggest challenge, because we can't hit them at the same time.” Brick looked around. “Any ideas?” Castillo spoke up. “My mobility's limited. Trudy and I can stay by the main door. That covers all staircases except the one in the office. If you hit it, when can catch anyone coming down. I think his first reaction is going to be to fight, not run, so any danger to us is limited.” “You'll have shotguns, then. In addition to the pistols. You can pin them until we can flank them.” Sonny nodded. “We'll go through it on paper a couple more times, and then it's equipment check. We need to be in position before 2100.” Brick nodded. “We're got a second team set to hit that warehouse just after we go in. The chief deputy wants to make sure we get everything. Just like you asked, captain.” “Good. Switek, pass the word as soon as we breach. Even if Doc gets off a call it will be too late.” The drive over was silent, each member of the task force lost in their own thoughts. Sonny and Rico had changed into jeans and t-shirts to blend in with the rest of the team, and Rico kept casting admiring glances at Mindy and her jeans. “Go easy there, pal.” Sonny laughed. “You're gonna need to be able to stand up once we get in position.” “Yeah, yeah.” Rico looked around the back of the van. “You ever been on one of these before?” “Not really. Only when we worked with SWAT at OCB. You?” “Once or twice before that in New York. We'll call in NYPD's version to deal with some of the more aggressive robbery crews. But never anything this intense.” “Yeah.” Sonny looked around. Most of the entry team were listening to music on headphones or working wads of Copenhagen. “They are some serious dudes.” The van slowed to a crawl and then stopped. “We're here,” Brick whispered through the opening to the driver's compartment. From the outside the van looked like just another junker that should have a 'free candy' sign taped to the windowless doors. The kind of rig that didn't draw a first glance in a neighborhood like this. Sonny was once again impressed by the level of preparation he kept seeing. “Five minutes until go.” The big Smith & Wesson rested in his shoulder rig, and he touched the cool stainless steel frame as part of his ritual reassurance. He saw Tubbs doing the same thing with the Walther. They'd both declined larger arms, though he did notice Rico had his shorty pump Mossberg on a combat sling under his arm. “Just in case,” he muttered when he caught Sonny's eye. Sonny had always been a pistol guy. He pulled out the 4506-1, checking the loaded magazine and the two in the right-side pouches under his arm. The safety was still on, and he'd leave it that way until just before they went in. It was routine, just like checking his helmet straps and pads had been before a game, or going over his web gear before moving out on some assignment or another in Vietnam. They had a way of forcing him to focus on the moment, pushing fears and worries aside until later. After the shooting stopped. His earpiece chirped to life. They were running on a frequency Stan assured them Doc couldn't monitor, but transmissions were limited until everything kicked off. After that it didn't matter. “Eagle's Nest. Fledglings clear. Only chickenhawks remain.” Rico chuckled. “Leave it to Randy...” In the passenger seat, Brick looked at his watch. “One minute. Move out.” The rear doors opened and the team flowed out like unleashed water. Sonny and Rico followed, trailed by Mindy, Trudy, and then Castillo. They moved in a silent column, shadows chasing shadows, to the side door they'd selected as the entry point. Unlike the front, no big windows overlooked it and the light above the door hadn't worked for over a decade. Brick took the lead, his shotgun already loaded in the van so there would be no noise. Looking back, he made eye contact with every person in the stack, waiting for their nod before he raised three fingers, then two, then one. When he made a fist he looked away and blew the knob into the building with a blast from the shotgun. “U.S. Marshals. Search warrant! Show me your hands!” In the back office, Carlos was in the middle of saying something to Leo when his world exploded around him. He recognized the shotgun blast, and came out of his chair in an instant. “Get those cats and hold then down here!” he shouted, yanking the .45 from his waistband. “I'm going up. Once the boys are in place, follow me up and hook up the egg. You ain't up in three minutes don't open that door!” Sonny came through the door behind the last entry team member, his pistol up and tracking, dipping any time his line of sight crossed one of the marshals. A door flew open to his left, but before he could move the marshal just in front of him triggered his shotgun and the man's pistol went one way and his shattered body another, almost cut in half by the twelve gauge at point-blank range. The marshal moved through the door, sweeping his weapon one way while Sonny followed and swept the other side of the store room. He shook his head and the marshal shouted “One is clear,” before flowing back into the hall and continuing his pattern. It was hard to keep pace as they flowed from room to room. A pistol popped somewhere near where Sonny figured the kitchen was, followed by three rapid shots from a .45 and another shouted “Clear.” Then the stack reformed in front of the office door and Brick repeated his finger count. The shotgun roared, and the knob disappeared in a shower of splinters. This time it was answered by pistol shots, and the marshals flowed through the doorway breaking right and left in sequence, weapons blazing toward the center of the room. The roar of gunfire and expanding muzzle flashes left Sonny dazed for an instant, and when his vision cleared he saw a torn body tossed across the desk like it had been mangled and left there by some kind of huge animal. Brick staggered and looked down at his vest. “Damn. That shit smarts. Tiny, take lead.” “You got it,” said Tiny, who easily stood six feet six and had shoulders more massive than Brick's. He scooped up the shotgun in a huge paw. “You say this guy likes grenades?” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. Killed more than a few rivals with frags in Nam according the report.” “Stand back.” Once the team cleared the room, he ducked behind the desk and held the shotgun over his head. “Fire in the hole!” The shot hit the door, and the frame exploded outward as if it had been hit by a bomb. Wood chips and splinters flew through the air, and Tiny shook his head from behind his cover. “Well, shit. That was a frag. No doubt about it.” “That means the bastard's upstairs.” Sonny looked up the narrow staircase. It was dark all the way to the top, and then shadows played where moonlight played through dirty windows. “He's got a cot in the corner, so he doesn't sleep up there.” Brick looked over at Sonny. “Worth trying to talk him out?” “He's been on the run since 1969.” “Guess that answers that question, then.” He keyed his radio. “Any word from the other team?” “Negative.” Stan's voice came back loud and clear. “They went in, and report encountering some resistance. They're clearing now.” “Copy that. Eagle's Nest. Anything?” “Negative. No lights on the second floor, so we can't see any movement. He's up there, but he's not doing jumping jacks in front of the windows.” “Copy.” He looked at Sonny. “It's you call, boss.” “I'm going up.” He turned to Brick. “My boss will want to, but don't let him. He's still hurting from that gunshot wound.” “Copy that. You want any help?” Rico nodded. “I'm going with him.” Tiny stood up. “Always wanted a threesome. I'll go along if you guys want some company. I got some EOD training back when I was Army, so I ain't just good to look at.” Sonny nodded his thanks. “Use the rest of your men to set up containment. If he tries to run, I don't want him to have anyplace to go.” Rico shook his head when he was close to Sonny. “EOD?” “Explosive ordnance disposal. Think of him as a big, cuddly bomb sniffing dog.” Sonny grinned and looked over at Tiny. “I'll lead up the stairs. I don't think he's got them rigged, but any doors upstairs likely are.” “And that's why this scattergun has this pretty little flashlight. I'll check doors visually while you two watch my back. He'll need to have at least an inch of line on any frags tied to the doors. Otherwise they go off too soon. I'll be able to see it and cut it.” Tiny chuckled. “And don't step in any rugs or loose boards. Pressure plates suck ass, and they usually go boom.” Rico swallowed. “Anyone ever tell you that you got a strange sense of humor?” “Sure, but I don't let it get in the way.” Tiny chuckled. “We ready to go now?” Sonny nodded and started up the stairs. His ears were clearing from the gunfire, and he strained to hear any noise from the second floor. They needed sound now, almost as much as they needed light. He motioned for the others to stay close to the wall, where the step treads were nailed to the runners. It kept old boards from squeaking, and he wanted to keep Doc guessing as much as he could. They needed every edge they could get now. The upstairs was dark, a long hallway with windows at both ends and closed doors lining each wall. Their stairs came out right by the back set of windows, and the stretch to the other end reminded Sonny of a dim shooting range. Not an image he wanted in his mind, but there was no helping it. He stepped to one side, giving Rico room to go one way and Tiny to approach the first door. “Showtime,” the big man muttered as he flicked on the flashlight and tested the first door. “Unlocked. Could be good or bad.” He eased it inward no more than an inch and scanned alone every gap he could see. Sonny watched as the big man tensed, then grinned. “Got you,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small pair of wirecutters. “Hopefully he didn't have time to rig anything fancy,” he said over his shoulder. “But if he did, get ready to duck if you hear a ping. Move fast, 'cause I'll run anyone over who's in my way.” Reaching up, he snipped the exposed line. Realizing he'd stopped breathing, Sonny gulped in stale air as Tiny turned and grinned. “No dice this time.” Rearing back, he kicked the door open and swept into the room. Sonny followed, his .45 tracking to the opposite corner as he moved away like he'd seen them do, giving Rico room to enter. The empty room mocked their efforts. Tiny lowered his shotgun, then pointed to a door on the far wall. “Gonna try something,” he whispered, walking over with a silence that seemed unnatural for someone so large. Touching the knob, he stayed on the wall side of the door but opened it as if he was standing in front of the door. Three shots boomed loud in the quiet, blasting three holes in the door roughly where Tiny would have been standing. “Throw down your weapon!” Crockett's shout was both a command and a challenge as he reacted on instinct. If Carlos was shooting, that meant he hadn't had time to rig the door. Moving at full speed, ducking past Tiny, he kicked the door open and brought the big Smith & Wesson to full extension, both hands locked on the grip. Carlos stood there, eyes wide as he stared at a spent casing stovepiped in the chamber of his Colt. “Drop the weapon! Do it now!” Sonny's voice was sharp as he kept his own pistol locked on Carlos' head. He could sense Tubbs coming in on his right, and Tiny taking a position between them both. “Drop it! Don't even try to clear that weapon!” Carlos looked up, his eyes framed by an odd pair of glasses reminding Crockett of John Lennon. His cut off fatigue jacket vest draped from his narrow shoulders, and he looked more like a Beatnik poet than a man who'd been dealing heroin for over twenty years. “You ain't even Army.” His voice was thin, almost sad. “You'd think after all these years they'd want their piece of me.” “Drop the weapon! I”m not asking again.” “Why? So I can stand trial? Go to jail? You really think I'm gonna let that happen? I got friends who could keep in from happening, but I don't trust them bastards.” The Colt fell to the ground with a heavy thud, but Carlos' hands kept moving. “Keep your hands up!” Sonny knew what was coming. Sensed it with every inch of his being. He could see something small, olive drab, clipped to Carlos' old GI web belt. “Don't do it!” Carlos' hand kept moving. Down past his midsection now. Almost to the pin on the GI-issue hand grenade. “Screw you! Screw all of you! I might go, but...” In the close confines of the room, the .44 Magnum sounded like an artillery piece going off. Carlos' eyes widened in shock as his internal organs were pulped by a heavy hollowpoint bullet fired at point-blank range. His hand feel down past the grenade, his fingers opening and closing as the dying body tried to convert the brain's fading messages into action. And then he hit the floor. Sonny focused past the body and saw Martin Castillo standing in the other door leading to the hall, smoke trailing from the long barrel of his Model 29 Smith & Wesson. “He talked too much.” Robbie shut down The Sanctuary for normal business to host the combined party, celebrating Gina and Stan's engagement and the end of the operation. The second team had wrapped up Juan at the warehouse, and seized a large quantity of heroin. Forensic people were still going through Carlos Delgado's office, piecing together his business over the years. Brick, a bandage under his shirt supporting a cracked rib, raised his glass. “Here's to a mission well done. Good guys four, bad guys zero.” Sonny looked around, raising his glass with the rest. Jenny was there, looking pretty and a little uncomfortable in her white dress until Trudy sat down next to her and started talking. Soon they were at it like they'd known each other for years, and Castillo walked over to him with a smile. “I like her, Sonny.” “So do I, Marty. I mean...I really do. It's funny...” “I know.” He looked at Trudy, and Sonny had never seen so much love in the man's eyes before. “Trust me.” “I want to talk to you tomorrow about how you bought that Challenger. I think I'm gonna finally pull the trigger on the St. Vitas Dance I've been squatting in it for so long it feels like I own it anyway, but...” “Now you have reason. I understand. I'll help ease the process through.” “And...” Sonny wasn't really sure how to say what he wanted to say next, so he just blurted it out. “I'd like to help you and Trudy the same way I'm helping Stan and Gina. If you take that step, anyhow. You both have meant the world to me, and it's the least I can do.” “Sonny, I...” “Damn it, Marty You're always looking out for us. Taking care of us. Let me do the same for you for a change. I know you don't need the help, but it would make me feel a hell of a lot better.” Castillo smiled. “Thank you. I don't know what we're going to do yet. It's up to her. We won't be apart again. I know that much. But the rest...” “I hear you. Jenny's...well...she's different. I don't think we'll ever be apart, either. And that seems to make her happy enough. Me? I don't care about the formalities. But Trudy...I know they mean a lot to her.” “That's why it's her call.” Castillo nodded toward the table. “We'd better get back to them, don't you think?” “And interrupt Rico's game?” Sonny chuckled as he saw his partner trying to corner Mindy over by the bar. “I just want to sit and watch this.” “They make a good couple, don't you think?” “Yeah. And don't look now, but I think Angie's taken a shine to Randy.” Sonny nodded towards Caitlin's burly former assistant who was plowing through the crowd headed right for Randy with a pitcher of beer. “If he's not careful she'll just toss him over her shoulder and take him home.” “Maybe that's his thing.” Castillo shrugged and then winked, something Sonny had never seen him do before. “I don't judge.” Sonny was still standing on the edge of things when Robbie found him. “She's a sweet lady, Sonny. Jenny, I mean. She cornered me a couple of minutes back. Said she knew I was your oldest friend here.” “I don't know how the hell she does that, man.” “I don't ask, my friend. But she's sweet as hell. And she's devoted to you. I can't say you'd be able to do better. Keep her close.” Looking at the group laughing, telling stories, Sonny nodded. He picked out Jenny, laughing again with Trudy. And Rico, trying his best to stop staring at Mindy's cleavage and failing miserably. He threw his arm around Robbie. “I'm gonna keep all of you close, buddy. You, Jenny, Rico, all of 'em. It doesn't get any better than this.”

Sonny got back just before the pre-mission briefing. “Sorry I'm late,” he said to the waiting table. “Took a bit longer than I thought with Angie and the lawyer, but the first steps are done. Caitlin's House is on its way. Stan, tell Gina to expect a call from Angie tomorrow or the next day if you wouldn't mind.” Stan nodded. “She's been wondering how that was coming along. I'll be glad to pass the word on.” He grinned. “Maybe then she'll quit chewing on my ear about it.” Sonny nodded his thanks and turned all business. “Here's what I'm thinking. Rico, you're the guy on stage, so the final call's yours. But I want someone in there to keep an eye on things. Stan, you feel like shining up the blue suede shoes and playing a businessman from Nashville?” “Boy howdy do I. Even got an Elvis Hawaiian shirt for the occasion.” “Just don't let me see it.” Sonny chuckled. “We'll put you in place about an hour before the meeting. Just in case Doc has people in the bar. I'd send Mindy again, but she's been seen with Teddy once and it might not look right having her ignore him this time.” Mindy smiled. “And I was pissed as hell at the two-timing bastard when I left last time. The only way I could work that now is to walk up and slap him. I'll be in one of the tail cars.” “That's right. Rico, be sure to have your mic on when you hit Good Vibrations.” Castillo spoke up. “Metro-Dade likes to run operations in that club. Be careful you don't draw the wrong kind of attention. I let Lieutenant Vallencio know we were operating in the area and he's keeping his people clear, but OCB might be in there.” “And they have a grudge.” “Teddy be cool, mon.” Rico grinned. “And Juan's a security-conscious cat. I think we'll be ok, but if we have to change locations you'll be the first to know.” He looked significantly at his watch. “Lester, you good running the Roach Coach solo until Stan cuts loose from the club?” “Yep. Arm's out of the damned cast now, so as long as I don't have to run after anybody I'm good to go.” Sonny nodded. “Don't forget the street codes. They're all named after patrol routes, and your fake Metro-Dade unit numbers are on your notebooks. Stay off the radios as much as possible, but if you have to come on, use those. There's some fake 10-codes there, too, for direction changes and handing off Juan when he moves out of view. If we're careful Doc won't notice anything different if he's listening.” They went over the rest of the plan three times, including where Castillo and Trudy would set up their corners of the box and where Randy and Dave would take up overwatch positions. Randy put it best. “From this building we can sweep almost a mile in any direction, so we can see him coming and going. After that it's on you guys. We can help in a car, but it'll take us a few minutes to displace so we're likely better used as a reaction force if things go south.” Sonny nodded. “Any questions? No? Comms and weapons checks in thirty and then we roll. Dave and Randy, you guys check comms with Lester and head out now. We want everyone in place before Rico heads in.” Ricardo Tubbs checked himself again in the mirror, making sure the print shirt and gold chains marking Teddy Prentiss on the prowl were all in place. He flashed a couple of smiles and mouthed 'righteous' a time or two before he was satisfied the mask was in place. Then he looked over at Lester and turned on the watch. “Radio waves on, me brother. How you hear me?” Lester's thumbs-up told him what he needed to know, so he shut off the watch to conserve the battery. There was no way he could take the Walther in, not with Teddy's penchant for unbuttoning his floral shirts and dancing with any lady who happened to be handy, so he checked old reliable, the Chief's Special snug in its ankle holster. He missed the bigger pistol, but told himself again the odds of him needing it tonight were almost nil. And with Stan close by with his Hi-Power there would be some firepower on hand if things went sour, followed closely by a whole legion of .45s and the bigger guns of Castillo and the two snipers. It was the same thing every time. Check the hair and makeup, redo the clothes, make last minute adjustments. Now he knew what Gina and Trudy felt like before they hit the streets for a night of decoy duty back in the OCB days. At least all he had to worry about was some Irish redhead slapping his ass. The memory brought a smile to his face, and the hope that he'd have a chance to return the favor in a more private setting. Sonny walked over. “Stan just left. Dave and Randy signaled Lester they're in position, and the others are moving out in sequence. You ready, partner?” “Yeah, mon. Just gettin' me party favors lined up. It's always a party when Teddy's in town.” Then he paused, dropping the chatter. “Where are you gonna be?” “Good Vibrations ain't quite Burnett's scene, but it's hard to look inconspicuous parked on the curb in a damned Ferrari.” Sonny flashed his usual grin. “So I'll be down the street a bit in Rumour. I'll have the earpiece in, and I'll move as soon as Lester lets me know the deal's gone down or something's gone south. I can be to Good Vibrations in under two minutes from there.” He shook his head. “Feels funny flying solo.” “Yeah, it kinda does. But Juan's only expecting Teddy. Hard to work Burnett in without making him jumpy.” “I know.” Sonny sighed. “Well, I'd better get moving. See you at the afterparty.” Rico nodded, sinking into his cover and checking his watch. Another ten or fifteen minutes and he could head out. He'd keep the earpiece in as long as he could, just in case Dave and Randy spotted anything unusual from their rooftop hide. He'd come to depend on those two as his long-seeing eyes, and dreaded operations when they weren't available or conditions weren't right for their use. Then it was time. Shutting off the lights, he locked the office door and headed down to the garage. Good Vibrations was a dive club suddenly grown popular with the 'in' crowd who discovered reggae by way of the Police and bad soda commercials. The place struggled, and failed, to keep up with its newfound popularity, but its rundown condition just seemed to feed the hype. There was even a line at the door, something unheard of no more than six months ago. The big Rasta with bloodshot eyes peered down at Rico. “This not de back of de line, sport.” “Be cool, Freddie. It's me, mon. Teddy Prentiss.” Two years ago Rico had brokered a middling pot deal with Freddie and his partner at the time. He just wondered if the big man's baked brain was functioning enough to remember. The eyes lit up. “Teddy! Yeah, mon! That was some righteous herb you got for we.” He lifted the rope. “Enjoy, mon! And later we talk?” “Sure, mon.” Rico nodded, knowing the big guy would forget the whole thing inside of two minutes. He was more worried about the buy money locked in the trunk of his rental car in the parking lot. The Caddy was too tied to Cooper, so he'd rented a flashy red Mustang from a lot near the hotel. He doubted Juan would bring the sample inside the club. Security and all that. Inside the air was thick with pot smoke, mostly cheap, rank product, and reggae blared from the wall-mounted speakers. A stage near the corner threatened to provide live music, and the packed dance floor swayed with couples grinding and moving in mostly weak copies of reggae dance. He noticed with a small smile over half of them were young and white, dipping their pedicured toes into a life they knew nothing about and would be eaten alive by if they tried to live in it. Avoiding the back booths, which looked to be home to the club's resident herb salespeople, he danced his way to the bar and slapped down a twenty. “Rum, mon! An' for me new friends, too!” He smiled at the pretty girl behind the bar who might actually be Jamaican. “And one for you, pretty lady. Teddy always buys for the pretty ladies.” She smiled, pouring him a drink and a smaller one for herself. “Good to see another mon from home.” She nodded toward the dance floor. “As you can see...” “But they give up their money so nice!” He grinned, tasting the smooth dark rum on his tongue. Looking down the bar, he saw Stan in his Elvis shirt, doing his best confused tourist impersonation. It always fascinated him when Stan went undercover. The big guy was a natural in many ways, able to blend in just about anywhere and shift in a heartbeat from jokester to muscled menace. A shame his tech skills keep him tied down sometimes, but we'd be dead in the water without him and Lester. “Good to see you having fun, Teddy.” Juan's voice cut through the Bob Marley blasting through the speakers. “Yeah, mon. I remember when dis place was mostly empty. Sometimes I miss them days.” “You and me both.” Juan smiled. Rico turned, noticing he was dressed in a pattern shirt and jeans not unlike at least half of the club's patrons. Cat knows his business. I'd best be on my game. “You want to find a table?” “Too much business in here, mon.” He nodded toward the back booths. “She's a good place to meet, but not a good place to do business.” “I couldn't agree more.” Juan looked around. “Shall we take this outside?” “Righteous. Besides, all this cheap herb smoke done give me a headache. If they're gonna smoke, at least smoke good product.” Juan chuckled. “I couldn't agree more, my friend.” The parking lot was dark, partly through design and partly because the owner of Good Vibrations was too cheap to replace burned-out bulbs in the light fixtures. Juan led the way, stopping beside a nondescript Ford sedan Rico guessed had been rented that day in an assumed name with cash. “I'll get the same if you want to get the other half of the deal.” “Righteous.” Rico hauled the bag out of the Mustang's trunk and turned to see Juan doing the same with his own small gym bag. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the test kit. “No offense, but I gotta be sure.” “Of course. Safe and secure.” Juan held up a small UV pen. “I do the same with the payment. No offense either.” “None taken, mon.” Rico looked in the bag. “Righteous! It already in those little Red Cross bags.” “Yes. My boss is very particular about that. Red Cross is not to be stepped on. Ever. So we distribute it this way.” He looked up from his examination of the money. “He asked me to be clear on that. If you ever step on Red Cross, our arrangement is over.” “No worries, mon. Teddy don't never step on good product. It's bad for my side of the business, too.” Cutting open one of the bags, hoping Juan didn't notice how careful he was to avoid touching anything else, Rico dumped the white powder into the tube and snapped the base. Shaking it to start the reaction, he watched the color change and laughed. “Righteous, mon! Just righteous! We make good money off this.” “And you held up your end. Forty grand. All real and mixed numbers. You know your business too, Teddy.” Juan offered his hand. “Let's shake on the start of something good. I'll be in touch once I talk to my boss. Like I said, he'll want to meet you.” “I'll be there. Just give the word.” Rico zipped up the bag. “But I gotta know. What weight we talkin', mon? I need to hire people.” “Let's wait until you meet with the boss. I hear you've been away from Miami for a time. Things have changed. He might have a name or two for you.” Juan raised his hand. “Just suggestions, mind. People we've heard good things about. One in particular. All he does is transport. Stays away from sales completely.” “I'll wait, but I may ask some people on me own, too, mon.” Rico gave his best Island smile. “Cool runnin', Juan. It's been a pleasure.” “Likewise, Teddy. I'll be in touch.” Juan zipped up his bag and slammed the trunk of his Ford shut. “Now we'd best scatter before people think we're a couple.” Back in the Mustang Rico slipped in his earpiece and started the engine, being sure to drive back toward the Hilton. Shifting his voice out of Island mode he made a call. “Metro Charlie is 10-26.” It meant he was leaving and Juan was rolling, but to anyone listening it was another patrol car calling in a piss break somewhere. Lester came on, sounding for all the world like a bored night shift dispatch operator. “Copy Metro Charlie 10-26. Don't forget to shake it.” Knowing he couldn't be part of the box, Rico sighed and took his time getting back to the hotel. Maybe they'd get lucky and there'd be prints on some of those baggies. But the meticulous nature of Doc still floored him. What better way to avoid what Tio had done than to pre-package the dope? They really needed to shut this guy down before he got ambitious. Sonny sat near the head of the table the next morning, watching Martin Castillo look at the team and then the map. “How did we do?” “Stan and I were late to the party. I got held up by some bimbo and her boyfriend who thought I was looking at her.” Sonny smiled as he remembered how big the goof's eyes got when he saw the big Smith & Wesson. “Stan delayed in case Juan had people outside, which was a good call. Dave and Randy picked up a guy who looked to be staking out the place. He took off about five minutes after Rico left.” “I didn't spot a tale.” “He didn't follow you.” Randy checked his notes. “He did a quick pass and then left the area in the opposite direction.” Castillo nodded. “Good work keeping the box formed. Those map codes allowed us to hand off cleanly and without much chatter.” He looked at Rico. “Write that up and send it to the chief deputy. It might be something they could use if they're not doing it already. It was your idea, so you should get any credit.” Then he turned to Trudy. “What do we know about that warehouse he went to?” “Another shell company.” She chuckled. “These guys do love Panama. It's registered as small holding location for cheap imported goods. Wicker furniture from Taiwan. That kind of thing. A great place to unload some China White mixed in with the papasan chairs.” She flipped through the notes. “Mostly sells to and holds goods for some of the smaller stores in the area. Very local.” Sonny sat, his chin down. There was something just out of reach in his brain, and he tried to draw it out while they talked about the tail and how professional Juan had been with his countermeasures. Then he caught it. “I got it! Shit! It's obvious if you look right at it.” Castillo turned to face him. “What is?” “So we think this guy was a cop? What if he was? But a military cop. An MP. In Vietnam. That would explain the China White connection and why he's so good at dodging us. There was a whole world of AWOL GIs in Saigon, but you'd know more about that than I would, Marty. Da Nang just didn't have the same appeal.” “What does that have to do...” “It's why we can't get a fix on his communications, Stan. He's using Goddamned field telephones! They're connected to each other by wire, and I'll bet he's got one going to that warehouse and who knows how many others running in Treys territory. That's why he doesn't move, and why we can't listen to him.” Castillo nodded. “It makes sense. It also explains how he can put the word out so fast to specific people. He's got lines to them.” “Exactly.” Stan frowned. “So how does it help us knowing we can't tap his lines?” “We can, big guy. Provided we can find them.” Sonny turned to Dave and Randy. “Find someplace to overwatch that warehouse.” Randy nodded. “He'd check the lines at night. Less obvious that way. It would either be Doc or someone he trusts completely. Juan might not lead us to Doc, but the lines will.” Sonny felt Castillo's eyes on him. “We need to move quickly once we find this Doc. He'll disappear if he feels us closing in.” Sonny was about to speak when Mindy ran into the room, her eyes bright. “We finally heard back on those prints. You're not going to believe this. We got two hits. One's a guy named Juan Donaldson. Small-time dealer and runner from Detroit who dropped off their radar about fifteen years ago. The other one has an active warrant. From the Army. That puts him right in the marshals' jurisdiction.” “What do we have?” Mindy caught her breath and looked down at the sheets of paper. “Says here the prints belong to Carlos Delgado. Detroit native. Drafted in January 1968, assigned to the 9th MP Company, 9th Infantry Division, Republic of Vietnam. Reported AWOL in December 1968 and suspected to be at large in Saigon. He's wanted for questioning in a number of drug-related homicides by CID. I put in a request for the whole file. I used your authority, captain.” “Good.” Castillo looked at Sonny. “Your instincts were right.” “It was Vallencio who planted the seed. Narcotics was convinced the guy had to be an ex-cop.” Randy cleared his throat. “Dave and I will get started on the overwatch hide, captain. I want to be in position no later than dusk today. That district empties out like a whorehouse on Sunday morning by about six, so it'll be perfect for us.” “How will you spot him?” Lester asked the question from his spot down at the end of the table. “Guys checking lines have a particular look about them. If they're on the ground they'd be looking down most of the time, watching for breaks. If they're up high, like I'm thinking he did here, he's gonna stop at each pole and look up.” Dave gave a smile that held no warmth. “Randy and I got sent after guys in places we weren't supposed to be. So we've seen it a time or two. Once we spot the line we can track it back.” “You think he'll have people watching the line?” Sonny spoke up. “No, I don't think so. Doc's network seems small. We've only spotted two guys directly connected with him, and he seems to put bullets in the back of peoples' heads too often to have more guys around. He's likely got some close-in security, but having people watching the lines would leave them open to being spotted. I just can't see this guy doing that.” “Especially since we don't know how many of these field phones he has.” Stan looked at the map. “It would take too many bodies to watch more than a couple of lines, and if he checks them himself he's not gonna have too many, either. It also means he's probably based somewhere near that warehouse. It's a pain in the ass to run lines too far, and the longer they get the more likely a break is or that some pesky Ma Bell pole monkey might find them.” Carlos smiled. “So the meeting went well?” Juan's voice echoed in his ear. “It did. His money checked out, he was security-conscious, and didn't flinch when he saw the Red Cross pre-packaged. Even said it was better for his business. He did want to know about load sizes, though. So he could arrange transport.” “What did you tell him?” “That you had a recommendation or two, since he's been out of Miami for so long.” “Good. I'd like to meet with him in the next couple of days. We'll need a location, though. Someplace quiet and not too far from the warehouse.” “I'll get on it, boss.” Carlos smiled, ignoring the look on Leo's face when his right hand came into the room. “Keep me posted.” Then he hung up the field phone. There's a hiss on that line. Gotta remember to walk it tonight and make sure it's still solid. “It's about Eddie, isn't it?” “You know it is. Boss, why did you take that kinda risk?” “To show myself I still got it. And to remind the Dominicans I'm still in the game. Eddie was a liability. Now he's not.” “Double G's not exactly thrilled, but he's glad to see the Kings gone. And they are, more or less. Some of them joined up with the Treys, and he figures the rest will come around once they see him push what's left of the Columbians out of their turf.” Leo looked around. “What's the real reason you whacked Eddie?” “He was a loose end. Double G is content with how things were, and if he's not he'll become a loose end.” Carlos looked at the shadows thrown by the rotating ceiling fan. “And once we divert product to this Prentiss we won't have to worry about local events hurting our business.” “You think Double G will like losing his slice?” “He won't be losing his slice. But he won't get a bigger one. He can keep what he has as thanks for what he's done, but the piece that was Eddie's is going to Prentiss. Maybe more, if the trade grows. If we're not dealing locally we don't have to keep near as much product on hand. It makes Juan's job easier. Yours, too.” “And you checked this new cat out?” “Juan and I both did. He's clean. His Jamaican ties are solid, and no one in Miami has a bad word about him.” Carlos leaned forward, his eyes focused on Leo's. “Are you questioning my judgement, Leo?” “No, boss. Nothing like that. It's just...so many changes so fast. After all those years it's hard to get your head around.” “I know. But it will settle down soon.” And maybe I'll need a new right hand. I can see you doubt my judgement, Leo. No matter what your mouth says. Carlos lit a regular Camel and smiled. “Let Double G know deliveries will start again soon. I'm sure that will make him happy.” Once Leo left, Carlos turned his focus back to the shadows on the desk. It helped settle his mind. Things were moving well now. Another week or two and it would be just like it was before. Dave Blair could feel sweat dripping down the hollow of his spine, and was glad the sun was finally going down. It made for longer shadows and harder spotting work, but it would also make the roof many degrees cooler. He could feel Randy Mather shift next to him, making a slight adjustment to either see something or keep a limb from falling asleep. So much of sniping was waiting and watching. Over the years both men had adjusted to the routine, but it was still the little things that made all the difference. “Almost dusk.” Randy's voice was so low the pigeons on the edge of the roof didn't even bat a feather. “You think he'll wait for full dark?” “No reason not to. He's got time, and he's a careful son of a bitch. Only thing I wonder about is how he'll chase the line. Coming out or going in?” “My money's on going in. Less exposure” Dave nodded, watching through his binoculars as Juan locked the warehouse side door and headed for his car. “You figure he raids the wardrobe closet from Saturday Night Fever for those suits?” “He might at that. Wonder what the hell he dresses like that for?” “Cheap businessman. That's his front.” It went quiet for a time as they settled into the routine of watching. Scanning one sector, then another, then back to the first one. Keeping their eyes and minds fresh and open to any new movement. Dave looked down at his range card, comparing the sketch to what he saw and occasionally making a small adjustment. “Looks like there might be one watchman inside. I keep seeing something moving by that side window.” “Same here. Wonder if he sleeps there?” “Assume so. Better that way if we have to hit the place. I hope not, though. It's a damned barn. And with all that crap stacked inside...” “Looks like we got a bus stop close by, too.” Randy made a note. “That's the third stop I've seen so far.” “Good to know.” Dave shifted to focus in on the big, dingy bus. “Looks like it's popular with the homeless. Got a couple by the stop and one getting on.” “Bystanders to wrangle. Great.” The handful of functioning streetlights started flickering on as night fell and shadows claimed every sidewalk and street. Taking a drink of plastic-tasting water from his canteen, Dave switched to his more powerful night glasses and swept the area again. “Another bus. Must be close to the last run out here.” “Yeah. Any movement? I'm tracking the watchman.” “No one at the stop, but one guy got off. Sad looking bastard in an old fatigue jacket cut into a vest.” Dave played his binoculars through his sector and then came back. “Guy's looking at the place. Now he's shuffling off. Hang on. Check him out. I need a second set of eyes. He look normal?” Dave could sense the motion as Randy shifted. “Typical bum with vet cast-offs. Shuffles like...hang on. You're right. He keeps looking up. Those dudes always look down.” “Yeah. He does from time to time, but he's looking up way too much. And at the wire poles. Get the camera out. I think we got our guy.” “That's him.” Castillo's voice was firm as he stared at the image projected on the conference room's free wall. “No question.” Sonny nodded. “I agree. Look how he's moving. He's checking those poles, and keeping an eye out for ground surveillance at the same time. He didn't figure anyone would be up high.” “Saigon's a low city. Not many tall buildings. He wouldn't have experienced that so he wouldn't look for it.” Castillo turned to Mindy. “Any luck with that file?” “Just came in, captain. They need to spend some of that Defense budget on a better fax machine, but it's readable.” Sonny reached out, almost afraid to touch the paper. Any time he read about another vet going bad it send ice cubes to the bottom of his stomach. And this guy looked to have been bad from the get. “Says here he likes booby traps. Suspected of killing at least two rival dealers with rigged grenades in Saigon. And some of those back of the head shots. The picture's old and not great, but it looks like the guy you two spotted last night.” “It's him.” There was a certainty to Dave's voice that allowed no debate. “I got a good look at his face when he got off the bus.” “Where did he go?” “We tracked him for a fair distance, captain.” Randy got up and pointed to the map. “We lost him in here, where you get all these two and three story buildings. Shops, a couple of restaurants. An illegal club or two, but all small.” Stan piped in. “Get us that phone company van again, captain. Lester and I can pick up the wire and see where it goes. Those trucks roam through even that neighborhood from time to time.” Castillo nodded. “You'll have it inside the hour. But be careful. This man is dangerous and smart. And he knows our moves.” “Not if we don't get out of the truck. Lester can track the wire using a spotting scope. All I gotta do is pick it up from the street and we can go from there. Just another couplea Ma Bell guys trying to stay out of the heat.” Sonny looked at the map. Thinking. “Be careful, and try not to run quite parallel with his wires. From what Dave and Randy said he was moving in a straight line, so you could pick it up, hit a different street, and come back and pick it up a block or so down. If you lose it, that means it ended somewhere behind you. Don't circle back to find it. Just mark where it disappears. Trudy and Mindy can work their intel magic and let us know who owns what in that zone and we'll narrow it down from there.” Castillo nodded. “I spoke with the chief deputy this morning. Since Carlos is a Federal fugitive, we'll have their high-risk apprehension unit at our disposal for the raid. He's got a warrant just waiting for a location.” Dave whistled. “Those are some serious dudes. You'll like them, Sonny.” “Rico, you'd better head back to the hotel in case Juan calls. I hope he doesn't, but knowing our luck he will. If he does, stall him until Stan and Lester get back. I'd rather try to grab Doc at home instead of a meet happening God knows where.” Four hours later they had their answer. Stan stood by the map, sweat dripping from his hair. “Damned air conditioner didn't work. And we had to have the windows rolled up. I think Lester's down with heat stroke.” He picked up a green pencil and started drawing a line. “We picked up a secondary cable here, about a block away from the warehouse. That's where we started trolling to avoid being noticed.” He kept drawing. “We did some of those street change-ups, but picked up the cable again each time. He's good. Got it running right next to the normal lines and almost inside them when you hit the poles. No, we didn't climb one. That scope's got such a good zoom Lester could see threads on the connectors. They'd only spot it if they were making serious repairs, and from the looks of things no one's been doing that for years. He might have a secondary line somewhere, too, in case that one got spotted.” “How far did it go?” Castillo sat in his usual chair, eyes fixed on the map. “We lost it here.” Stan circled a block. “It went in on one side and didn't come out on the other.” Mindy flipped through her notes. “Not much going on there. Some apartments. A bodega. A dry cleaner who's somehow stayed in business. A pawn shop. And a restaurant.” Sonny felt that familiar tapping on his spine. “What kind of restaurant?” “It says here Vietnamese.” “That's where he is.” Sonny looked down the table at Castillo. “Check the ownership on that place. If he went AWOL in Saigon, I'll bet it feels like home to him.” Trudy was already turning pages. “The building's owned by...the same shell company that owns the warehouse. I think we've got a winner.” Sonny turned to Mindy. “Get that address to the chief deputy and let him know we'll need that team. I'd like to go tonight if we can. Tomorrow at the latest. The sooner we get him, the better. Rico, still camp at the hotel until five or so. Let 'em know you have a hot date or something and make tracks back here. I'm betting this guy doesn't go out at night.” Randy cleared his throat. “If we hit him tomorrow, Dave and I can do some recon tonight and see what the area looks like.” “Be careful. Set up as far away as you can.” Castillo looked at Sonny. “I'd rather we go tomorrow. If he's being watched, we'll know if he tries to run. Everyone stay on alert.” “You're right. We need a solid plan for this guy. Especially given his history of booby traps. I'd still like the warrant team here when we make the plan, though.” “Count on it.” Castillo looked at the map. “We've almost got him. This is no time to get sloppy. Rico, I'd still use that date excuse and avoid the hotel tonight. If he's watching, we want to get him used to you going out.” “Solid. I'll take a roundabout route and hang at Casa Cooper.” “Randy, you and Dave try to get some sleep. I know you already know where're you're gonna set up, but the next two days are going to be busy.” Sonny looked around the table. “That goes for everyone. Take it easy once the required stuff is done. Get some rest. I think we're gonna need it.” Jenny was waiting for him on the deck of Vellamo, wearing her t-shirt and cut-offs. “She's almost done,” she announced when he got close enough to hear. “I just need to let it air out a bit belowdecks and she'll be good as new.” “Nice.” He smiled, his mind going to dangerous places. “You'll have to give me a tour.” “I will once it's done.” She smiled and came down the gangplank. “But not quite yet. Still a few things I want to do.” They walked down the dock to his boat. The county's boat he reminded himself. I need to do something about that now, I think. I wonder how Marty managed to buy that Challenger? I need to ask him. He went through the ritual of feeding and cleaning up after Elvis as she ducked below. When he got there the shirt and shorts were in a neat pile on the table. “I missed you today.” “I see that.” Her hair flowed loose over her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled. It was hard to keep his eyes off her body, even though he was familiar with every inch and curve. “Did you like meeting Rico?” “He's nice. You have a good friend.” She did a slow turn. “Tired of me already?” “Never, darlin'.” He shrugged off his blazer and shoulder rig and then she was in his arms. Later he looked down at her on the bed in the aft stateroom. “I may be gone a good part of tomorrow night. Work.” She smiled up at him, her hair fanned across the pillows like white gold. “Be careful.” “I always am.” “No. Not always. But it comes with the work. I understand. I wasn't always careful, either. But it's easier to run risks when you're alone. We're not alone any more.” “You're right. We're not.” He touched her cheek, smiling when she turned and kissed his fingers. “I'll be as careful as I can. Sometimes that's hard when you're in charge and people depend on you. When your friends depend on you.” “I never had that. Friends depending on me, I mean. But I understand after meeting Rico. I hope he finds someone to make him happy. There's sadness in him. Like there was in you when we met.” “Yeah.” Sonny lowered himself beside her, feeling her warmth. “He's had some bad luck with women.” “As bad as yours?” “Yeah. Worse in some ways, I guess. Or at least different.” He looked over at her. “So you're saying I'm still having bad luck?” “No. We aren't having bad luck. Either of us.” She sighed. “Ever again.” It felt good to be back in Casa Cooper with Stan Getz playing on the stereo and a single scotch over ice in his hand. Rico looked out the patio door at the sky, wondering what tomorrow would bring and where they'd go after they wrapped up Carlos Delgado. Or Doc. He still wanted to think of him as Doc, even though they had a face and a name to hang on their ghost. Part of him wanted to call Mindy. The feeling of her slap still lingered, and he wanted to see if she was keen on having the favor returned. But it was more than physical. He was that honest with himself. Most days, at least. They had the same interests, she was smart as hell, and after seeing Sonny with his little blonde mermaid he knew exactly what was missing from his life. Angelina was gone, and now he knew what had happened to Ricardo, Jr. Valerie was just a ghost to haunt his dreams. Even if she called he knew he wouldn't go back. Couldn't go back. Any trust that had been there was long gone. Dead and buried by her own actions. No, he wouldn't take her back again, or go looking to patch something up that had never been worth saving in the first place. At least now he knew where things stood. What was closed off and what might remain open. He had to admit he was jealous of both Sonny and Marty and their ladies. It wasn't a bad kind of jealousy. More like envy. But they both deserved what they had. Taking a sip of his scotch, Rico nodded in agreement with his own thoughts. They'd both been through hell, and deserved the peace they seemed to be finding. Then his mind took another turn. How the hell did Doc end up being another blast from the past of Vietnam? Even Holmes had gotten his start there. It made Tubbs wonder how Doc had gotten back to the States, and how he'd made his heroin connection last from Southeast Asia. If the guy had been a deserter in Saigon, it would have taken some help for him to make it back without being noticed. And for the China White to keep flowing as long as it had... Setting down his glass, he reached for the phone. “Mindy? Yeah, it's Rico. Sorry to bother you, but is there any way you can dig through that Army file and see if CID had any leads into Doc's connection? Where did he get the heroin and all that?” “Sure, Rico.” She sounded tired, and he immediately felt guilty. “Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I lose track of time when I start listening to The Sound and thinking.” “It's ok. I'll have a look and let you know.” Maybe she has company. God, I'm an ass. “Ok. Thanks. Sorry again for bothering you.” “No, Rico. Don't hang up. You...you didn't bother me at all. I was just thinking about the case and things and...I'm sorry I slapped your ass the other night.” He laughed. “Don't be. It was perfect for the part. I was just wondering when I'd get to return the favor.” Now she laughed, and he found the sound almost musical. “Maybe sooner than you think. I'll check that file and let you know if there's anything there. We actually got a physical copy delivered before I left this afternoon. They must want this guy bad.” “Thanks.” Rico stared at the buzzing receiver, replaying the conversation in his mind. Maybe sooner than you think? What the hell was that about? He hung up, a smile playing across his face. Maybe, just maybe, his luck was about to change.

Back at the task force office, Sonny found Rico pacing back and forth like a tiger in a suit. “What the hell? What do these chumps think they're about?” “It's a game, Rico. That goof Carstairs doesn't know anything about anything. Pete thinks he's just trying to make a name for himself.” Mindy looked up from plotting new information on the map. “He's a dangerous one, though. Nailed an FBI agent in Philly for being on the take, which is why he got the plum spot in the sun. It helped that the FBI guy was dumb enough to buy a bunch of stuff all of a sudden. With cash. But Carstairs isn't one to let the truth stand in the way of overstating his ability.” “Let Marty and I handle that. The rest of you need to stay focused on this operation. If this guy Juan is that close to Doc, we're damned close to wrapping this one up. But we can't get sloppy. If you do, think of that van. That's what happens when you cut corners on this job.” Stan nodded as he came out of the tech room. “And you can't cut corners on Doc. This guy's still a ghost. Not one whisper of him on anything we're listening to. I've even tried scanning CB and marine band frequencies. Heard some interesting stuff, but nothing about Doc.” He grinned. “You wouldn't believe what passes for phone sex on the CB.” Sonny shuddered. “I don't want to think about it. Keep at it, though. You and Lester are really on your game. If he slips at all, you'll catch it.” He looked around. “Marty make his PT?” Mindy nodded. “That's why Trudy isn't here. She insisted on driving him, and then taking him home if that's where he needs to be.” “Good. I'd rather have him here, but for their sake he needs to get better the right way.” “Trudy's good people. And the captain...” She smiled. “I can't even really say his name.” “It took us years to call him Marty.” Rico chuckled. “He's got that effect on people.” “So if Teddy's hanging around the hotel working on his tan, what do the rest of us do?” Stan shot Rico a big grin. “You two keep on the tapes. Mindy, I might have you shadow Tubbs in the Hilton. Teddy would look funny without a lady on his arm from time to time, and you'll blend in there damned well.” Sonny shook his head. “Me? I'm on call as either Burnett or the AUSA's whipping boy. Stan, when Dave and Randy come in tell them I want them on quick alert. We may have to move fast. I'll either be here or on the pager. Rico, let me know as soon as you get something set with this Juan. And Mindy, before you get changed could you give the lab a call and remind them we're still waiting on those prints? I know they're backed up with all sorts of crap, but just make sure it doesn't get lost.” “I'll call now. See if I can catch someone before they start sneaking away.” She smiled and reached for the phone. Martin Castillo was still sore from his physical therapy session, so his glare packed extra weight as he sat down in the chair across from AUSA Carstairs. Pete was there, sitting back from the table a bit with a smile on his face. “Are you ready? Captain is it?” “You know it is. Ask your questions.” “Your lieutenant wasn't very forthcoming this morning.” Carstairs smiled. “I'm hoping you will be.” “How many men have you interrogated?” “What? I don't see...” “Answer the question. How many interrogations have you conducted? Ten?” “I've conducted fifteen criminal investigations, including one of a former FBI agent.” “I've conducted over three thousand. So I know you're lying about Crockett. If you had any experience you'd know how to tell if a man's lying. How the movements of his eyes give him away. Little ticks, like the way you're tapping the table right now. To an experienced interrogator it all paints a picture. And your picture tells me you're in over your head. Lying to me about my lieutenant tells me you don't know what you're doing.” “Now you see here...” Castillo eyed the man through his sunglasses. Already he was tired of the game, but the man's arrogance annoyed him. A legitimate inquiry into what went wrong on the Holmes raid was one thing, but trying to smear his team, his people, was something Castillo would not tolerate. “I conducted my first interrogation before you were born. So I'll tell you what's happening here. My team's preparations for the potential buy are a matter of record. As are our multiple attempts to coordinate with ATF. It's my understanding they also froze the state police out of their operation. You might want to look into that.” “I did see those records. But they aren't clear...” “Then you need to go back to school. They're very clear. And our communications team has recordings and transcripts of my call to the ATF senior agent and his refusal to send support to his own men. They were included in what we gave your office.” Castillo leaned back, letting the silence hang in the air for minutes. Sometimes it was more about what you didn't say than what you said when it came to breaking a weak man. And he had no doubt Carstairs was weak. The only question was how weak. “What did you expect to gain from this, Carstairs, is it? Your kind never shows up unless they feel they can gain something. What was it? Power? Trying to smear the task force that took down Moncado and Maynard? You're tapping the table. Lie to me again and this interview is over.” “I'm...I'm just doing my job. That's all.” Castillo could see the look in the attorney's eyes. It was a look he'd seen many times before in rooms like this. In huts in the middle of Mekong Delta rice fields. And in forgotten camps in the Laotian highlands. The man was broken. “But who are you doing the job for?” “Look...the senior ATF agent is friends with my roommate from law school. He's FBI. He called in a favor. Said his buddy's in hot water and I could help him out.” “So you initiated a fraudulent inquiry intended to cover up gross misconduct on the part of the ATF?” “Yes.” Castillo turned to Pete. “Did you get all that, chief deputy?” Pete nodded. “Yep. And his own tape's still runnin'.” Castillo took off his sunglasses and glared across the table. He was well aware of the power of his stare, and had used it many times during interrogations to push men to the breaking point. That, combined with silence. They were never sure what he would do, could never read anything in his expressionless eyes. Not knowing was a bigger threat than knowing, and he used it to full effect. After a time he spoke. “This is what you will do. You close the inquiry with a factual finding. Which is...” “The task force did nothing wrong.” Carstairs' voice was barely a whisper. “The ATF refused to coordinate with multiple agencies, conducted their raid with inadequate planning and ignored available intelligence. And if your people hadn't have been there the disaster would have been far worse.” Pete allowed the man a smile. “It may sting some now, son, but you'll be able to sleep at night. You wouldn't be sleepin' for shit if you'd gone the other way. And once you cave for some peckerwood in the FBI he'll keep comin' back for more. I'd make some new friends if I was you.” Castillo kept staring, not wanting to lose contact just yet. “Is that all you needed to know?” “Yes. Thank you very much for your cooperation, gentlemen. I'll send you both a copy of my draft report. Sorry to have taken you and your lieutenant away from your ongoing operation.” When they were out in the hall, Pete Washington stuck out his hand. “I've wanted to slap the taste out of that asshole's mouth for months. I owe you. And you weren't kidding about those interrogations, were you?” Castillo shook the offered hand. “No.” “Remind me to call you next time I get one who thinks he's tough. You snapped that kid like a twig in under ten minutes. Your man Crockett only rattled his cage a bit.” “I learned interrogation in a different school.” One that's much harder than anything most of these people can imagine. “Yeah, I'll bet you did.” Pete looked him up and down. “Vietnam, right?” “Some of it.” “I did a tour in '69. First Infantry Division down in III Corps. You got that Company look about you in that room. I ain't gonna pry, but I will say those boys could interrogate. Some rougher than others.” “I always found violence counterproductive. At least in interrogation. You can never be sure of what you're being told.” “True enough.” Pete chuckled. “Well, you made my damned week. I'll let you get back to it while I go fly some top cover and make sure the kid don't change his mind once he's out of earshot.” “He won't. But it's always wise to be sure.” Castillo nodded and headed out to the Federal building lobby where Trudy was waiting. She smiled when he got off the elevator. “That didn't take long, baby.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “No. They sent a boy in to do a job that was way over his head. He knows better now.” “Let's get you home.” She took his arm. “You look tired.” He wanted to shake his head, but the truth of her words hit him hard. He was tired. Therapy had been tough, and he'd pushed himself a bit more than he should. And breaking a man like he'd broken Carstairs always had a cost. He was already weakened, so he was paying it now instead of later. Much as he didn't want to admit it, she was right. So he nodded. “I am. Let's go home, my love.” The drive was peaceful, and he'd come to derive a kind of comfort from the thumping of the Challenger's big V-8 engine. Trudy drove with an assurance he'd not often seen, and that was also a joy to watch. Tentative at first, she gained more control and touch every time she drove, and now she sent the big car in and out of traffic with ease. She was even starting to put her own personal touches on the car, which made him even happier. The house was cool after the heat of the city, and he slipped off his suit coat with a grateful sigh. Trudy kicked off her heels just inside the door, her blue dress pulling tight across her body as she moved. Walking into the kitchen, she poured two glasses of green tea from a pitcher in the refrigerator and handed one to him. “I'm making dinner tonight,” she announced with a smile. “If you insist.” The tea was cool and good on his tongue, stripping away what was left of the bad taste from the interrogation room. “Oh, I do, my love. Gonna try a little something my grandmother used to make. She brought the recipe from Georgia or somewhere. Or at least she said she did. I was never convinced she didn't read it in a Fanny Farmer cookbook, though.” She smiled and waved her hand. “Now you clear out and give me room.” “I'll be out on the deck if you need me.” “Oh, I need you. But not in the kitchen.” She giggled and kissed him, letting him taste the green tea on her tongue. “Now scoot.” The afternoon breeze was starting to fan itself to life, and Castillo loosened his thin black leather tie and sank into one of the low chairs. He could see the waves breaking up the beach and sliding back, water caressing the sand as it retreated back to reform and do it again. Just seeing it, and hearing the swooshing thud, had the same effect on his soul. Castillo knew he was good at interrogation. Had known it since the very beginning. But it took much out of him, more than most people realized. He was glad now just to sip tea and listen to the waves and put the day out of his head. The whys tended to stick, though. Like why had Carstairs thought he could get away with pinning the disaster at the farm on the task force? It only made sense if someone higher up the chain had a stake in the affair, and that someone had to be outside the ATF. Bureaucratic infighting was something else Castillo hated, but he had a nose for it. The friend in the FBI was probably the source. If he was anything like Carstairs he wouldn't be far up in the organization, but he might have a patron who was. Shaking his head, Castillo slipped on his sunglasses and pushed those thoughts to the back room of his mind. Now it was time for tea and the waves, and if he was lucky some of Trudy's piano. He knew she was cooking, and how much it meant to her to be able to prepare a meal for him that was from her past, so he wouldn't ask. Instead he thought back, remembering the notes she'd played the night before. The sound of her voice as she'd hum a line and then translate it into notes on the keyboard. Before he knew it she was shaking his shoulder. “Have a nice nap? Dinner's ready, honey. I hope you like it.” She'd made a pulled pork dish simmered in barbecue sauce she'd made the night before. “It's always better after it has a day to find itself,” she said. There were rolls, and boiled corn still on the cob. “It's nothing fancy,” she said, watching him from the corner of her eye. “But it's what I grew up on.” “It looks fantastic.” And it did. Pouring more tea, Castillo sat down and tried a bite. The meat was fork-tender, just spicy and sweet enough from the sauce to satisfy either craving without cheating one. “And it is. My compliments to the chef.” “Now you're just teasing.” She sat down and tried her own, still watching him. “No, I'm serious. This is really good. I've never had this style of sauce before. It's perfect with the pork.” He reached out and squeezed her hand. “I really like it.” “Good. I was afraid...it's not fancy like what you make.” “I make the same thing. It just comes from a different place.” He smiled. “I remember eating food like this in Cuba as a little boy. Not the actual meal. Just the smell of smoke and the taste of pork simmered in one sauce or another. I don't remember much of my time there. At least not before I was ten. And that was when we were in the mountains. But this dish takes me back there. It's good mountain food, and I love it.” “I'm glad.” She looked up at him. “I never thought about that, though. What you said about the Thai food. It's just simple like what I made. It looks fancy because we don't normally make it or see it.” “Yes. You made this out of what was available to your grandparents. What meat they had and what they could season it with. The Thais have seafood and chilis. So do the Vietnamese. So they cook with what they have.” “I also like that we have enough for tomorrow. Grandma always cooked to feed an army.” Her smile turned sad. “I wish you could have met her.” “So do I.” He shook his head. He didn't want her sad tonight. “Maybe we can play some more after we eat. I'd love to hear you finish that song.” Rico split his attention between his watch and watching Mindy rock a short skirt and cut-off t-shirt at the hotel bar. In his head he was cursing Sonny up one side and down the other for sending her to 'watch' him. He couldn't help but watch her. So far there'd been no message from Juan. The kid behind the bar shook his head when Rico sauntered in, but he'd already had the negative from the front desk. But the warning signs were in the air. He'd already seen two fifty-something women with fake everything eyeballing him by the dance floor. If he didn't do something soon they'd pounce. So he flagged down the waitress and went full Teddy. “Here's a fifty, pretty lady. Could you see if the red head at the bar would care to have a drink wit me? Teddy Prentiss.” The waitress looked at him like he was nuts, but she took the money and headed to the bar. Mindy did a convincing job of shrugging a few times and shaking her head, but in the end she put on a 'I'm captivated by the guy who throws money around' face and headed to his table. Rico almost laughed as the fifty-somethings glared daggers before turning in search of other prey. Mindy saw their looks. “Who pissed in their Cheerios?” “You did, pretty lady. They was lookin' to Teddy Prentiss before you brought that ray of red sunshine into my life.” She snickered. “Do people really buy that shit?” He nodded. “Dope dealers mostly. But that's Teddy's goal.” “Actually I'm glad you got me away from the bar. That fat old guy with the gold chains was working up the nerve to either pinch my ass or stick his hand up my skirt. Either way I'd end up with a busted cover and he'd have a busted arm.” “Remind me not to piss you off.” He grinned as the waitress came back. “Drinks for me an' my friend, pretty lady. It's a righteous evening!” “He's sweet, ain't he?” Mindy beamed, making the waitress shake her head. Once she was gone, the deputy laughed. “I don't get to play twit very often. It's kinda fun.” “Yeah, but I'd rather talk jazz. Teddy's scene ain't really mine.” He grinned. “Now if Cooper were in town...” “I think I'd rather get to know Rico.” “He is, you know, mon.” “You know what I mean.” She smiled. “You and Crockett spend so much time like that I wonder if you even know who you are anymore.” “Sonny had a bit of a break with his a few years back.” She nodded. “I heard. Sounds like he was one scary customer.” “Still is. He's been Burnett for so long sometimes I don't think even he knows where the line is between them. Or if there really is one.” Rico chuckled. “Me? I change it up all the time.” “But don't you kind of lose something that way, too? That's why I never wanted any long-term undercover work. It took me long enough to figure out who I was. I didn't want to lose that again playing a role.” “I had a friend who did that.” Rico shook his head. Valerie! Can't get away from her. “Well..she was a friend. But she went too deep. Lost herself and never really found her way back. Crockett? He can because he's always been Burnett in a way. It's like his dark side. But when you change it up completely...” He nodded. “Yeah, that fear is real.” He also thought back to poor, broken Arthur Lawson, who might have though of himself as Artie Rollins right up until he hung himself. Screwed by the FBI in the name of the Job. “I've seen it go wrong too many times.” “And that's why I want to know you, not some mask you put on.” “I'd like that.” He smiled. “But I gotta go see what that punk kid wants. He's wavin' from the bar like his arm's on fire.” “Teddy! There's a message for you at the front desk. Sorry to haul you away from that hot number, but you said to let you know.” Rico sighed inside, but grinned and handed the kid a twenty. “I did, mon. And you done righteous work. She wait there.” Turning, he caught her eye and motioned toward the lobby and held up a finger. She nodded and sipped at her drink, catching his meaning. The folded slip of paper the clerk handed him had a phone number and two words. “Call me.” Grabbing the house phone at the far end of the desk, Rico punched in the numbers. “Teddy Prentiss.” “Fast reply. I thought you might be otherwise occupied.” “Business waits for no mon. And we got business.” “We do. The sample's ready. Forty grand.” “Righteous! Tomorrow night. You know the club Good Vibrations? We meet there at ten.” “Why tomorrow?” “Customs asks too many questions when a mon come in from the islands with cash. I need to make arrangements..” “Of course.” Juan chuckled, a hollow sound in the phone. “Safety first.” “Always, mon. Coming in from the islands they always look a mon over hard, see? So I play extra careful.” “I'll see you there.” Rico walked back to the table. “Tomorrow night. I'm gonna head back to the office and arrange the buy money. Give me a few minutes and then look pissed and leave. Just in case he's got people in here.” Then he raised his voice. “I go get that thing, pretty lady. You right right here.” “Sure thing, Teddy.” Mindy giggled and slapped his backside. “You just bring that thing back soon, baby.” He smiled all the way to the car. Sonny was still in the office, going through the last of the day's obnoxious faxes, and the look of relief on his face was obvious when Rico walked in. The look turned to a smile when Rico told him what Mindy'd done. “She smacked you on the ass? For real?” “Yeah. She's something else, Sonny. Jumped into that role without batting an eye.” “Sounds like she wants to jump something else, too, partner.” “We'll see.” Rico shrugged. “The thing is...” “I know. You actually like her.” Sonny looked down. “There's nothing wrong with that, man. Not a thing.” Then he looked up. “But you didn't drive all the way over here to tell me you got spanked by a deputy.” “It was one slap! And, no, that's not why I'm here. Juan reached out. The price is forty, so I'm guessing his sample is close to a kilo. Tomorrow night at Good Vibrations.” “That reggae club down by Rumours? Glad I'm not going in. Place gives me a headache just thinking about it. But this might give us a chance to throw a box around Juan. See where he goes after he meets with you.” “He's careful, you know. And Doc's worse.” “I know. But we gotta try something.” Sonny shook his head. “It still bugs me that Stan and Lester can't find a single trace of the guy on the wires or in the air. He's gotta be communicating somehow, and not just with runners. His information moves too fast for that.” “Maybe if we get a tail on Juan it'll tell us something.” Rico shook his head. “I'll stick here for a bit just in case. I told Juan I had to arrange the money, and I drove around enough that if anyone was following me they're still trying to get off the causeway. Better to come back late than too early.” “Yeah. Just sign it out and we're good.” Sonny slid the clipboard across the desk. “Pick up the gym bag labeled two in the safe.” “You got it pre-packaged? Solid.” “It was Stan's idea.” Sonny shook his head. “He saw us counting one day and said 'why don't you do it all at once and then have bags ready to go?' I could have smacked the big goof.” Then he caught himself. “But he's a hell of a cop.” “I knew what you meant, partner.” Rico scrawled his signature and then asked the question that had been circling in his mind for days. “So when do I get to meet Jenny?” “How did you know?” “You got that look, Sonny. I saw it right after you and Caitlin got serious. And I'm seein' it now.” “I'm that damned obvious?” “Only to me and Castillo. You know he knows everything.” “Yeah.” Sonny sighed. “How about tonight? Seeing Teddy with Burnett won't raise any eyebrows. You'd be looking for transportation, after all.” “Righteous.” Rico went over and pulled out the bag with a big '2' tag tied to the handles. “Does she know what you do?” “No, she's never asked a single question. But she's not stupid, even though she acts that way to throw people off. I think she knows I'm a cop of some kind. Hell, she took every smuggling compartment out of her boat. Remodeled almost the whole damned interior. Or she is...there's still finish work to do.” “I'm cool if you are.” “Yeah. I want you to meet her. So you can tell me if I'm crazy or not.” From all the stories Rico expected to find a naked blonde mermaid sprawled on the deck, but instead Jenny smiled at him from the seats in the rear of the St. Vitus Dance. Her hair was pulled into a neat ponytail, and she wore a white strapless dress that ended just above her knees. “Hi! I”m Jenny.” “I'm Rico. Good to finally meet you.” “You're the one who works with Sonny? His partner, right? He's told me a lot about you without saying anything.” Rico looked at Sonny, who'd suddenly found something fascinating to do with Elvis on the bow. “How do you mean?” She got up, her movements so smooth it was like she flowed from the cushions to his side. “We don't talk about work. But he has mentioned friends a time or two. Your name and Marty come up more than anyone else, so that means you must be his best friend. And given the kind of work he must do, that would also make you his partner.” “Yeah, I am. We've been working together for years now.” “That must be nice.” She turned and looked out over the water, leaving Rico feeling like she was only half there. “But hard in a way, too. I usually worked alone. You don't risk losing anyone that way, but you also don't have someone to watch your back. Or hold you when you cry.” How the hell does this girl know this stuff? “I never heard someone talk about it that way, but you're right. I've worked solo and with a partner, and I prefer having a partner. Provided it's someone you can trust.” “Of course. That's why you're here. You want to make sure I won't hurt Sonny.” She turned back to him. “Don't worry. I'm not mad. You'd be a bad friend if you didn't want that, and I've had plenty of those. You did the same thing with her, didn't you?” “Who?” “The beautiful woman in the picture he has in the main cabin.” Rico started to protest, then looked into her surprisingly deep blue eyes and knew he couldn't. “Yeah, I guess I did.” “And what did you say about her?” “She was a hell of a lady. She was really good for him.” Rico wanted to stop, but something in her eyes wouldn't let him. “You know he's turning their house into a shelter for troubled teens?” “At least something good will come from what happened to her.” She gasped. “I...didn't mean that the way it sounded.” “I know what you meant. It's cool.” She moved closer, but it wasn't uncomfortable or threatening. Rico didn't quite know what to call it if he was honest with himself. “And what do you think of me?” “I don't know yet, Jenny. You seem to be good for him. I think you're part of the reason he could let go of that house. And I get the feeling he's good for you.” “He is.” She looked over at Sonny, and Rico saw those blue eyes go soft. “I've never known anyone like him. I...I could never hurt him. I want you to know that. If you think I'd be bad for him, be honest with me. I'll disappear. I'm good at that.” Rico felt his heart lurch. There was a seriousness in her eyes that almost frightened him. He knew she'd disappear if he said the wrong thing. Or the right thing, if he really thought she was bad for Sonny. But was she? In so many ways she reminded him of Caitlin. There was the same quiet strength about her, the same iron determination. But there was something else...a sort of connection Caitlin hadn't had. He looked around and it hit him. The sea. She and Sonny were both at home on the water. And she seemed to be tied to him in some other way he couldn't quite understand. It was like...Trudy and Castillo. “You're thinking. Maybe I should...” “No, Jenny. I just wanted to be sure in my heart before I said anything.” Rico looked down, seeing tears in the corners of her blue eyes. “I think you're great for Sonny. I believe you'd never hurt him. And I can see he's great for you. The last thing you should do is disappear.” He was astounded at the strength in her arms when she jumped up and hugged him. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “I won't disappoint you.” Then she turned and laughed. “I like him, Sonny. You've got good friends!” She ended up making them salad, and insisted on cleaning up while Sonny and Rico went on deck. “He'll want to smoke, and you'll want a drink,” she said with one of the soft smiles Rico found quite striking. “I'll be up once this is out of the way.” He also knew she was doing it on purpose to give them time. Sonny took a deep drag on his Lucky Strike, sending smoke hissing into the thick night air. “So? What do you think?” “She's from another planet part of the time. It's like she knew what I was going to say before I opened my mouth.” Rico looked up at the stars, just starting to swim into view as the sun lost its last hold on the sky. “But I'd say she's a keeper.” He didn't tell him about her offer to disappear. Maybe later. Or maybe never. “You think so?” “I'm being straight with you, partner. I do. She reminds me of Caitlin in quite a few ways, but there's something else, too. Something deeper. Not to say Caitlin wasn't a hell of a lady. But Jenny? She's like connected to things.” He shook his head. “I don't know.” “Sometimes it's like talking to Marty. She'll just say things and you know she's right but you don't know how.” Sonny gestured with the lit cigarette to the open companionway. “And she's never said a word about Cait. Just how beautiful she was.” “She told me the same thing. There was so much respect in her voice it was unreal.” Rico put his arm around Sonny's shoulders. “I think you've got the real deal there, partner. And you know I ain't just saying that.” She came up from below, smiling and holding opened beers in her hands. Sonny seemed surprised she was still wearing the dress, and she giggled. “I know that look. But I can behave when you have company.” Sonny grinned, and Rico let out a sharp bark of laughter. “You look lovely, Jenny. And thank you for the beer. I'll have one with you two, and then get out of your hair so you don't have to behave any more.” She smiled. “Did I say before that I liked you? Good. I'll just say it again.” She sat down on Sonny's lap and took a long pull from the beer bottle. They talked a bit more about nothing in particular, and then Rico noticed Jenny starting to squirm a bit too much on Sonny's lap, letting the short dress ride up well past the point of no return. “Well, I'd best be getting back. Work ain't gonna wait.” He drained his beer and set the empty bottle down. “It was good to meet you, Jenny. You don't need to get up.” He gave her one of his patented Rico grins. “I don't think Sonny would like that. I can find my way down the gangplank. Smooth sailing, partner!” It took most of the drive back to the Hilton for Rico to even process the evening on the boat. He was just coming down from the high of working with Mindy and walked right into what felt like an episode of the Twilight Zone, but with almost-naked mermaids. But try as it might, his mind couldn't undo what his heart had seen. Jenny was unlike any woman he'd ever met, but she did seem perfect for Sonny. There was something between them he couldn't explain, and thought maybe shouldn't be explained. It was clear she didn't care about his work, but desperately wanted to be accepted by people she knew Sonny cared about. Shaking his head, he forced his mind back into the game as he carried the bag up to his room. Tomorrow was another day; one that might bring them closer to wrapping up Doc and his whole operation. Carlos looked at the parts of the Colt M1911-A1 laid out on the desk in front of him and smiled. The cool steel glittered with oil, and he drew in nosefuls of the familiar tang of gun oil with every breath. Reaching down, he reassembled the pistol with practiced motions, doing it all without looking down. His focus was on outside, on the moves he'd make to get into the room and send his message. Double G came through. Not that Carlos doubted he would, but he also knew sentiment ran strong in the Dominican gangs and Double G and Eddie had been close once. But the war ended all that, and now Double G saw the weakness in Eddie and the danger it posed to them all. At least that's what Carlos told himself as he slammed a loaded magazine into the Colt and racked the slide. Finally he put the safety on and stuffed the cocked and locked pistol into his waistband. It was time to go to work. Carlos had always had good night vision, honed on the tough streets of Detroit and perfected in Saigon and patrols around Bearcat before he went AWOL. It was a small thing for him to slip out the back door unseen, his cutoff fatigue jacket vest blending in with the other homeless men wandering the streets. So long as he shuffled and clutched a bag of some kind no one would give him a second glace. Even the men tasked with watching the edges of Kings turf didn't raise an eyebrow when another homeless vet wanna-be shuffled by. “Ratty-ass lookin' PR,” one of them snarled. “Git on back to your corner before we kick you there.” “Don't bother the general, son. Can't you see he's been in a war? Hey, old man! Tell us about the war!” Carlos shuffled on, ignoring both their laughter and the urge to turn and put big .45 slugs through the knees of each of them. Leave them crippled and bleeding out as a warning to the rest. But he didn't. It was the same feeling he'd had when he shuffled past MPs in Saigon, dressed like some old Vietnamese farmer. They'd laughed, too. But he ignored them just like he ignored the punks tonight. He had bigger game in mind. Why swat the ants when you can decapitate the queen? He smiled at the image. Like most gang bosses, Eddie had a side piece. Unlike most of them, his was a pretty Cuban boy who called himself Raul. Double G was an old-school Catholic, which might have had a hand in him giving up his fellow gang boss. Tapping a few ladies Double G could understand. But a guy? Carlos knew his angles and how to work them. He didn't care who Eddie was or wasn't sleeping with, but if it gave him an advantage he'd use it. The love nest was a second floor apartment above one of the liquor stores that dotted the neighborhood like infected zits. Bright colors ruining whatever looks the place might have had left. There were no guards. Eddie didn't like having possible witnesses, so he moved solo. Leaving his guards close enough to respond if he needed them, but not close enough to see what he was up to. Rotting stairs didn't creak if you knew where to step, and Carlos knew all the tricks. He made his way up, slowly, steadily, until he was in the hall and moving like a shadow to the door. It was locked, but locks meant nothing if you knew the right moves. He listened, and the sounds he heard convinced him no one would notice his entry. He was a little surprised to find Eddie face down on the bed, but it also made the job easier. Easing out the Colt, he slammed the butt down on Raul's head, dropping him like a sack of flour and maybe doing serious damage. Carlos didn't know or care. Eddie tired to turn, to see what had happened in the middle of his fun, and Carlos flicked off the safety. “You're my message this time, bitch,” he hissed, watching Eddie's eyes go wide as he tried to roll over. Tried to reach his own gun up close to the pillow. The big Colt boomed once, and blood and brains sprayed over the cheap bedspread and headboard. Flicking the safety back on, Carlos was gone as quickly as he'd arrived. Gunshots were common in this part of town, so no one called it in. It wasn't until the next morning that Eddie's men found him dead on the bed with his pants down, and finished off the moaning and dazed Raul, protesting to the last that he hadn't seen or done anything. But by then Carlos was already asleep in the back room, the Colt cleaned and ready for the next message. He'd smoked one of the special Camels before stretching out on the old Army cot, happy to discover he still had the old moves and could still do what it took. Now all he needed was for Juan to close the deal with Teddy Prentiss and things could get back to normal. Although he might have to send a message to Double G just to make sure. It was mid-morning when news of Eddie's demise officially broke over Miami. 'Gang leader slain in gay love nest' was the most popular headline, and Sonny had to chuckle as he tossed the paper down. “That the best they go?” Castillo looked up. “They don't know any better. Even Metro-Dade seems content to write it off as some kind of revenge killing.” “But you don't buy it.” Sonny wasn't asking a question. “I don't, either. Look at it. One .45 to the back of the head. Deep in Kings turf. Not a single witness. And the Cuban kid was most likely killed by Eddie's boys. Report says 9mm did him in, and he had significant bruising to the back of his head. If I was a betting man, I'd put my money on Doc himself.” Rico looked the map. “That's about as deep in Kings turf as you can get without...never mind. But how did he get there and back without being seen?” “He's good. He knows his stuff. And he knows their routines. What they notice, and what they don't notice.” Sonny scratched his chin. “He's gotta have been a cop, Marty. There's no other way to explain all this. But I still want to know how the hell he communicates. He had to have gotten Eddie's location from someone, somewhere. And we got nothing.” “Is there anyone else we can reach out to?” “Izzy's tapped out, and so are Gina's girls. In any case, none of them could get near Doc.” Rico shook his head. “Juan's the best chance we've got.” “We'll need a loose surveillance box. We cannot spook this man.” Castillo looked at Sonny and Rico. “You'll have everyone for this one. Including me.” Sonny nodded. “Put Dave and Randy where they function best. On high ground where they have good angles. We'll need everyone in cars, probably one person per car so we can get the most coverage. Dave and Randy can call the play. If he comes in on foot we go one way, another if he drives.” Castillo nodded. “Radios, but keep the chatter to an absolute minimum. If Doc was law enforcement, assume he has our frequencies. We'll work it out on the map in the time we have before the meet.” Rico nodded. “Use code names for the street and make the chatter sound like normal patrol. He might not notice that, or if he did it won't sound special or unusual.” Castillo nodded. “Do it.”

Rico looked down at the scotch in his glass, realizing he'd had over half of it and not tasted a thing. He wanted to call Mindy, but another part of his mind said no. Not until this was close to over. Besides, after the mess today he wasn't good company for anyone. Not even himself. The Hilton's suite wasn't as warm as Casa Cooper, but he had a role to play now. With the Dominicans out of play their only real way to Doc was through Teddy. His own personal import from New York City. The real Teddy Prentiss had been a hard-luck driver for one of the crews he took down in his days with armed robbery. A skinny kid from somewhere in Queens who thought he was a better driver than he was. But Tubbs liked the name for some reason, and he'd brought it with him when he chased Calderone to Miami. Looking out the balcony door, he watched the sun sink into the ocean. Pouring himself another drink, he thought back on the last few days. Lieutenant Tubbs! Who would have thought? Not his old squadmates in the Bronx. Not the old man. Maybe Rafael. It was a shame he hadn't lived to see it. But that had evened out, too, in the end. Even if he had to thank William Maynard for it. Flicking on the TV, he caught the last few minutes of the late newscast. “In local news, two street gangs in a Miami neighborhood long known for violence appear to have turned on each other. Previously the groups known as the 8-Ball Kings and Double Treys had been locked in struggle over the narcotics trade with two Columbian gangs. But according to police sources the Dominican gangs seem to have ignited some kind of feud.” Shaking his head, Rico set down his empty glass and turned off the TV. “Stan's gonna have lots to talk about tomorrow morning,” he muttered, picking through the scraps of his room service dinner without any real enthusiasm. Too much of it reminded him of what he'd seen in the shot-up ATF van. Stan beamed as he opened the office door and let Gina in. “This is it.” She smiled. “It's nice, Stan.” “But wait.” He led her through to the conference room, nodding to Lester hard at work on one of the tape machines that had taken a dump. “There's more.” “I am impressed.” She smiled, her blue eyes dancing. “You really moved up in the world.” “Yeah, unlike those ATF bozos. I thought the captain was going to shoot their agent in charge. I've never seen him so mad.” “We gotta get back it soon, Stan. The phones are going crazy. Seems the Kings think Hernan was some kind of plant in their organization and have declared war on the Treys. The Treys think he was trying to cozy up to his relative to get information about Red Cross. And with the Columbians busy shooting at each other...” He whistled. “It's downright ugly out there.” He smiled at Gina. “Thanks for bringing us dinner, Gina.” “Don't mention it, Lester. I wanted to see Stan today.” She waited until Lester hobbled back into the tech room. “You say Sonny actually said that? He's going to pay for the wedding?” “And the honeymoon. I told him no, but you know how he is when he gets an idea in that head of his. He said you should check with Angie. Seems she planned his and Caitlin's, and I gotta say that impressed me.” “It did. But Stan...we can't.” “He's pretty serious about it, Gina. Said something about starting us off right.” Stan looked at the table. He wasn't sure what he thought of the whole thing, but he also knew there was no way to talk Sonny out of it. And in some ways he didn't want to. He could never afford the kind of wedding Gina deserved, not even on sergeant's pay. This way they'd also start off with no debt. “I know. It just...” She sighed. “I want to take it, too, Stan. I really do. And maybe we should. We'll keep it reasonable, though. I don't want to take advantage.” “I don't either. But after that mess today...we need to make our memories while we can, baby. You and me.” In truth he couldn't forget that shot-up ATF van. It reminded him too much of what had happened to the Bug Van. “We'll tell Angie what we'd like and ask her to be reasonable. She cares about Sonny, too. She'll make it work.” “I need to talk to her about Caitlin's House anyhow. Really talk. I think we can get this off the ground in under a year.” She went on about the people she'd met through her work, counselors and doctors and lawyers who stood willing and ready to help, but Stan wasn't listening. It wasn't that he didn't care or was bored. He didn't understand a lot of it, but he learned quick and wanted to help. What he enjoyed was watching her be so happy when she talked. Stan hadn't seen much happy growing up. No real want, but not much happy. So seeing her that way now made him feel better than anything. “You're not listening, are you?” “Yeah, I mean no. Not really. But I love watching you talk about things that make you happy. It makes me happy just seeing your eyes get so bright.” She smiled and reached out for him. “You make me happy, Stan. Don't you ever forget that.” Sonny looked at the faces around the table, waiting for a slight nod from Castillo. When it came he started. “Looks like our whole map when up in flames last night, kids. Not only did the Columbians start shooting at each other, which we expected, but the Kings and the Treys started some kind of family feud, which wasn't on our dance card.” He shook his head. “No blame there at all. Comm intel makes it look like Hernan's murder started it, and our in-house experts back that up.” Mindy nodded. Her eyes were sharp and her voice all business. “We had an idea that Hernan might have some kind of tie to the Treys, but we didn't know it was a blood relation. Stan and Lester have been rolling tape all night, and the Kings think the Treys held their man back from the meeting on purpose and then killed him when he said his real loyalty was to the Kings. Now they're out their guns, their money, and one of the few mid-level leaders they had left.” Trudy took up the story. “The Treys aren't saying as much on the phones, but it's a lot for them. They think Hernan was trying to use his uncle to uncover information about their Red Cross trade. Seems he'd asked a question or two that was above his pay grade, so Double G had him disposed of. We're not sure how, but gang gossip is Double G did the killing himself.” “So now they're going after each other over two guys who may or may not have been rats.” Stan raised his eyebrows. “Anyone see the irony? And somehow in the shuffle they both forgot that everything points to Doc having had Hernan killed. Same signature, same everything.” “Maybe Doc wanted this war.” Castillo's voice was low and sharp. “The body was dumped where it would cause concern. And someone did keep him away from the Holmes meeting.” “Where he might have been killed anyhow, but without the message.” Rico stared at the map and the clusters of new dots representing shootings overnight. “Looks like it's gone over to a solid turf war. Any idea what the Kings want?” Mindy shook her head. “I don't think the Kings know what they want. Eddie's pissed, and when he's pissed he wants to kill. He doesn't think must past that.” Trudy looked at the map. “Doubly G might just decide things run better without the Kings. They're weaker then they've ever been, and many of the old soldiers jumped to the Treys when the Tech 9s started taking chunks out of their turf.” Rico looked down the table. “What's our role in this, captain?” “For now nothing. Be aware of what's going on. Know where the battle lines are. Rico, keep on Teddy Prentiss. If Doc's going to move it will be soon. He needs to be able to find you.” Lester looked at his notes. “Did the lab turn up anything on those bags of Red Cross? I know they were gonna look, and it's easy to forget after that scene in the swamp.” Trudy nodded. “They found prints. Rico's, of course. A set they tied to Hernan and another set from another Dominican. But there were two sets they had to send out to national databases. No word yet, but the network's been flooded by all the forensic stuff coming from that farm and Holmes' gang. I'll keep pushing.” “Good question, Lester.” Sonny smiled. “We still might get a break there.” “What about the rest of us?” Randy looked with meaning at Dave. “We're gonna need backup. Hell, I'll be backup most of the time. This is Rico's show now, at least until Doc lets us know the tune he's dancing to.” “Mindy and I have been working those ships.” Trudy sighed. “I think it's a dead end unless we have more time and more people. There's just too damned many of them, and it seems like each one's owned by a different shell company. Most out of Panama, but there's some from Europe and a few from Hong Kong. We might be able to find a pattern in a month, but we don't have that kind of time.” “I appreciate the effort.” Castillo nodded to the two women. “It was worth a look, and might pay off if we had more time. We don't. Like Lieutenant Crockett said, this is Lieutenant Tubbs' show.” He got to his feet, and Sonny noticed him wince with the effort. “I have a physical therapy appointment. Keep me posted.” “What did you think they'd do?” Leo glared at Carlos, waving his arm to encompass the streets around them. “We figured on everything except the fact that Eddie's a moron. Only a moron would go to war with the Treys.” “Chill out, Leo.” “Enough with the hippie crap! I know you don't like being called one, but you're kinda sounding like one.” Carlos leaned forward. “You need to chill out. And think about what you say. Very carefully. It looks bad now, but Eddie's doing us a favor. He's having Double G take care of business for us. The Kings were too greedy. Too ambitious. They brought that halfwit Tio and his pal Reno in and almost ruined the brand.” He slammed his hand down on the desk, making the lamp jump. “NO ONE cuts my product! Eddie got away with it because he let us believe it was Tio who did it.” “But it was Tio.” “You really think so? I don't. Look at it, Leo. All the bad things have sprung from the forehead of Eddie. Tio. Hernan. Cutting Red Cross. Trying to expand and pissing off the Columbians. It all lands on Eddie's doorstep. And this war? Hell...it ain't a war. I've seen a war. This is a little pissing contest, and Double G's gonna win it. He's got the men and he's got the guns.” Carlos leaned back, settling his breathing and trying to focus back within himself. “I might have to help him along a bit is all.” “What do you want me to do, boss?” Leo's voice was weary. “I didn't stutter, Leo. I said I. As in me. Not you. Go home. Get some rest. Bang that Mikko chick or whatever you do with her. Spend some of that bonus. You earned it, my friend. This message is on me.” Once Leo left, Carlos reached for the field telephone. “Juan? Set up a meet with this Prentiss. As soon as you can. Get a read on him. Find out if we can use him or not. Then let me know.” Hanging up, he shifted so his fingers just touched the normal landline. He almost never used it, and a part of him was starting to believe all phones were cursed somehow. But it was the only way. The dial tone was hollow in his ear as he dialed the number he knew by heart but almost never used. Three rings and it picked up. The voice on the other end was old, almost as old as his, and almost as weary. “Yeah?” “Double G. It's Doc.” “How's it hangin', Doc?” “You know me.” “Naw, not really. But it's cool. We know the business and that's enough.” “True. Look, I see you got a bit of a problem. Now I know it's nothin' you can't handle, but I thought I could lend a hand.” “How's that?” There was a commendable caution in Double G's voice. “We both know the Kings are done. Only one man don't know that. I can help him understand. I just need to know where he is. Simple. And nothing comes back to you.” “And what do you want for this lending of a hand?” Double G was no fool. Carlos liked him for that. “For things to remain as they were. No one gets greedy, everyone does business, and we stay safe and alive. It will take time for the heat to die down, but once it does...” “Seems fair enough.” Double G's voice didn't quite agree with his words, and Carlos sighed inside. Maybe two people would have to go down, just one before the other. “I'll call back tomorrow for the location.” He hung up before Double G could stir up more trouble. Much as he wanted to shoot Eddie now, he needed to go slow. Wait until he found out if Prentiss was going to pay off. Then he could tie up the Eddie loose end, and maybe the Double G one if it came down to it. Prentiss and his offshore connections might be just what he needed. He'd thought about it before, but now it was closer. More real. Maybe he'd send Juan after this Burnett, too. By all accounts he'd either not been at the disaster in the swamp or had managed to get away. Prentiss might need a good transportation man, and it would help his cause if he could bring one to the table. Or reintroduce them if they'd worked together before. Leaning back, Carlos thought about how his little world was changing. And who was to blame. Earl Holmes and his redneck fantasies had their part to play, but it was small compared to what Eddie had done to ruin things. Holmes was, had been, Carlos corrected himself, a racist ass, but at least he went out in style. Guns blazing and cussing one of the things he hated most. The dumb son of a bitch could have written the whole thing himself. Eddie...fixing that was going to be a challenge. Getting up, Carlos stretched, feeling his muscles pull at the unaccustomed movement. It had been a few years, though his nighttime wire checks kept his stealth moves intact and if anything improved on them from his Saigon days. He found himself looking forward to it. When Rico got back to the hotel, he changed into a floral shirt, gold chains, and comfortable jeans and headed for the bar. This was daytime Teddy, and he needed to get back in circulation just in case. Castillo and Sonny were right. He was the only chance they had left of luring Doc into the open. The college kid was behind the bar, and he grinned and waved his big tipper over. “Teddy! My man! The usual?” “You got it, mon. A good day for the usual, I'm t'inking.” As rum splashed into the glass, the kid leaned over the bar. “Had a guy in here asking about you. Said he's heard good things.” “Has he now? And how come I hear no things about this man?” “It was earlier today. Right after I came on shift. I told him you was usually in after seven.” A twenty appeared and disappeared. “He's a short dude. Dark, but not as dark as you, and has a short fro. Dressed casual, but in one of them suits left over from the '70s.” “A name come with this mon?” “He didn't leave one. Just said he'd come back through. Like he'd recognize you, even though he didn't ask what you looked like.” “You point out this mon if you be here when he comes back.” “Oh, I will, Teddy. You can bet on that.” Grinning, Rico moved away from the bar. The best way to control his rum intake was to make sure he wasn't close enough for the kid to refill his glass every time it dipped below the halfway mark. The bar was only a quarter full, mostly people with drinks sitting by the big bay windows or on the dark edges of the bar. Ones who want to be seen and others who want to see. Rico was somewhere between the two, so he flopped at a table just back from the dance floor and nursed his rum. Today was about staying power, not display. It was getting close to the dinner hour when Rico saw a shorter, dark man with a close-trimmed Afro come in and head for the bar. “Kid wasn't joking,” Rico muttered, taking a sip from his second rum of the day. “That suit did run away from the '70s. At least it's not some day-glo blue.” As he watched, the newcomer exchanged words with the kid and then headed right for his table. “Teddy?” “Do I know you, mon? I know many peoples, but you don' look like one I know.” “We've never met, but I think we have a friend in common.” The stranger had dark eyes and a voice that reminded Rico of late-night radio. The kind of thing college kids have on low when they're trying to look cool, get laid, or both. “Jimmy down in Kingston?” “I know that mon. But you...” “My name's Juan. I expect you'll want to check my references.” Without waiting for an invitation he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I do that, mon. An' you best be who you say you is.” Getting up, Rico winked at the bartender on his way out the door. Back in his room, he placed a quick call to his cop buddy in Jamaica who used the street name Jimmy. “Yeah, I had some dude call me about you, Teddy. Guy sounds like a late-night DJ? I know him as Juan. Showed up here a time or two a few years back dealing in small quantities. Ganja, some blow, and some top-notch heroin.” “China White?” “Yeah, that was it. Never much, though. And always in these bags with a red cross on them.” “Thanks, Jimmy. Next time you're in Miami the night's on me.” “Hold you to it, Teddy. Great name, by the way.” Back in the bar, Rico slid into his chair without missing a beat. “Jimmy says he knows you, but I don' know you yet, mon. What business you think we do?” “A little bit of import and export.” Juan leaned forward, his suit coat draping open to show the butt of a semi-automatic of some kind. “I hear you prefer safe to big. Arranging for goods to find their way from those who have them to those who want them. Never too much. Never enough to attract attention. My boss likes that quality in someone.” “Greed got too many killed, mon. Wit these eyes I see it. Too many times. So I stand in the middle like you say. Bring the people with boats to the people with goods, an' then the boat to the people who want to buy.” “And that's what my boss is interested in. He needs someone to make those deals. Moving small lots of goods from Miami to other places with demand.” “What product we talk, mon? I don' hold wit' no guns. Blow ain't my t'ing no more, neither.” “Jimmy told me about that.” Juan smiled, and Rico could sense his play. “We're not taking guns or blow. Let the fools move those things. And pot's too common. Too many people flooding the market. What we have's unique.” “Out wit' it, mon.” “China White. Top grade.” “As good as Red Cross?” Juan's eyes lit up. “Teddy, my man, it IS Red Cross. None other.” “Am I dreamin', mon?” Rico made a show of pinching his own arm. “And what brings dis gift from heaven to me, Teddy Prentiss?” “My boss heard good things about you.” Juan leaned forward, signaling a passing waitress for more drinks. “He's looking to make a change in his operation, and you seem like the kind of man he can do business with.” “Me, mon? I keep t'ings simple. No blow. No big loads. I don' even move t'ings myself, see? Small and clean. That's how Teddy Prentiss does his business. I tried that big stuff, mon, an' got burned good. Never again says I.” “I know. Jimmy told me. And that's what we like. You know how long Red Cross has been on the street?” “Ten years. More maybe. I don' get up north here too much.” “Maybe more is right. But we stay in business because we do it the right way. Small. Simple. Clean. Just like you do.” Rico accepted the fresh drink with a smiled. He had to admit this Juan was good at his job. “But that don' feature me, mon.” “Like I said, he's looking to make a change. Move things away from home a bit. You've got the connections, and you think like we do. Small, simple, clean. Red Cross don't grow on trees, and our supply lines are stable. But they don't grow. Our current customers don't understand that. We want to find some that do.” “Righteous, mon. That I can do. But I'm gonna need a sample. Make sure we got the genuine article.” Rico smiled. “It's not that I don' trust you, but...” “You gotta be safe. Don't worry. I get it. My boss will, too. In fact, he'll want to meet you before it's said and done.” Juan grinned. “He's kinda old school that way.” “It's all good, mon. Cool runnin' all de way, I say.” Rico raised his glass. “I'm here the rest of the week. Unless you got a better place to meet?” “Tell you what. I'll let the boss know you're interested. The sample for testing ain't free, but that's the game.” “I know, mon. No worries. You bring the party favors, I bring the green.” “Outstanding. When Jimmy said you were a businessman I knew we could work together. Give me your room number and I'll call when the sample's ready. You pick a place and we'll get this party started.” “What kind of weight we talkin', mon? I don' run me own boats, so I need to contract out.” “We'll work that out once you see the sample. Don't worry, though. It won't be more than a Cigarette or two of weight. Like I said, we like to keep things small and safe.” “Righteous.” Rico kept smiling until Juan got up and headed for the door. As soon as the middleman was out of sight, Rico let the smile slide off his face. The first part was done. Now he just had to wait on the chump with the bad hair to call. After the ATF fiasco, Rico was tired of waiting. Raising a finger, he ordered another drink. The jangling field phone jarred Carlos out of his thoughts. He didn't mind the interruption. “Tell me something, Juan.” “He's the real deal, boss. Wants a sample, but he's willing to pay. Doesn't want to run big loads, and damned near passed out when I told him it was Red Cross.” “You're sure?” “Yeah. If anything he acted like he didn't trust me. Can't say's I blame him, though. I did kinda walk up on him out of nowhere.” “That's on me. There isn't time for the introductions dance.” “Yeah.” Juan paused. “I told him you'd probably like to meet him.” “I would. I want to get my own read on him. If we're gonna work with him as long as I'd like to, we need to be solid. And that means we have to look each other in the eyes like men.” “Makes sense, boss. I'm gonna call him as soon as I pick up a sample. He'll pick the meeting spot.” “You think he'll try anything?” “No trace of it in his background. He's a mean bastard if you corner him, but most of those Jamaicans are. I can't see him trying a rip on that small a stash. It's not good business, and he seems to be all about the business.” “Cool. The stuff will be in the usual spot. Make it happen, then let me know.” “How much do you want to move, boss? He'll want to know since he'll have to arrange transportation.” “No more than ten keys to start with. Packets sealed so it can't be stepped on and still look like Red Cross.” “You got it.” Once Carlos hung up, he stared at the other phone. The regular one. The one he didn't trust but did sometimes need. Things were getting out of hand on the streets. He didn't really care how many Kings died, but it drew unwanted police presence and attention. One of them might get lucky and blunder into one of his stashes like they'd blundered into the leader of the Tech 9s. And there was still the matter of that message. He reached for the phone. “They want what?” Sonny turned to Castillo, surprise plain on his face. “Both of us. The assistant U.S. attorney wants to talk to us both about the Holmes incident. ATF is trying to make some kind of stink. Chief Deputy Washington tried to hold them off, but the AUSA insisted.” “Don't they know we're in the middle of an operation?” “That's why it's just you and me. I told them Tubbs is undercover and that I wouldn't risk an ongoing operation for their little show.” “When?” “They want to interview us separately. You'll go first, since you might be needed in the field.” Castillo shifted and winced. “I'm not essential. Not yet, at least.” “Therapy going ok?” “More or less.” Castillo gave a thin smile. “Trudy's helping me get through it. I've been shot before, but each time it takes a little bit more out of me.” “So when do I have to report for this dog and pony show?” “This morning at ten. We'll have time to get a quick update before you leave.” Shaking his head, Sonny turned and walked out of the office. On the way he almost ran into Rico, who came bopping through the conference room like he owned the world. “Watch where you're going, pal. Some of us have work to do.” “Where, mon? I be seein' no working mon here.” Rico smiled. “And I made contact last night with some dude named Juan. Seems he's Doc's business scout or something.” “Well haul your prize butt over there and sit down. I gotta go get probed by the AUSA over that whole Holmes mess.” Stan and Lester came out of the tech room looking like they'd slept there. And judging from the notes they carried they had. “Been a busy night, girls. Lester and I managed, thank you very much. But things are getting messy down in Kings-land. And I don't mean Graceland, boys and girls.” Trudy smiled. “Stan's not kidding. Metro-Dade logged at least ten shootings last night, most of them warning drive-bys, but there were two casualties. Both Kings. Neither fatal.” “Yet.” Stan dropped his notes with a thud. “The Kings keep talkin' trash on the phone, but the noise coming out of the Treys is serious. It's starting to sound like Double G is thinking about taking them out.” “Or someone put the idea in his head.” Rico leaned forward. “Juan said something about his boss, Doc, wanting to change up his operation. Take the distribution part away from home. Maybe Doc's using the Treys to square up things at home. Maybe what we thought before is what's happening.” “What's this Juan's next step?” “I told him I wanted a sample. To make sure it's real Red Cross. He's gonna leave a message the hotel when it's ready, and I get to pick the time and place for the meet. I told him I'd pay for the same, so I'll need some buy money. After that...he hinted the boss would want to meet me. Said he's old school that way.” “I want you covered at all times. As much as possible. Doc is dangerous. We're seeing how dangerous now.” Castillo looked at Rico. “This isn't negotiable. You will have back-up even if I have to prop myself up in the corner and watch you.” Dave cleared his throat. “If it's outside you're covered to a thousand yards. A bit less with the M-21, but either way we got your back.” Rico nodded. “I hear you, captain. I'm not gonna make no lone moves, not after what we've seen.” He looked at Sonny. “How long's this hearing thing gonna tie you up?” “Me and the captain both. Your little Teddy vacation got you off the hot seat.” “And they might ask for more people. Dave and Randy, if they give you any problems...” “We'll let you know, captain. The chief deputy, too.” Randy chuckled. “We've dodged this booger-flicker before.” Sonny chuckled. “What's he like?” “If it's Carstairs he's a skinny little punk Lester could kick the snot out of right now, with a bum leg and arm.” Randy chuckled. “They've got a couple more in the office, but he's the one they always send out when these things go down. He's annoying, and persistent as a tick. Don't let him catch hold.” “I'll try not to. I've had to fight off IAD a few times, so I kinda have the drill down.” “Pete should be there with you. He's always there when they call us in, and he'll have your back.” Trudy shook her head. “What's with the ATF? We saved them. If we hadn't have been at that buy, they'd all be dead.” Castillo looked down. “Saving face. They care about that more than honoring their own dead.” Dave snorted. “Surprised the Goddamn Feebs haven't popped up shoutin' about how close they were to rolling up the entire operation.” Sonny looked at his watch and cursed. “Playtime's over. I gotta get moving if I want to get there in time. Wouldn't do to be late the first day. The second one, maybe.” “Don't forget, our operation takes priority. If Tubbs needs you, they can deal with it. I won't give them a choice.” The interview room in the Federal building looked like any of the hundred or so interrogation rooms Crockett had been in during his career. White walls, plain metal chairs, a table that had seen better years, and the inevitable tape recorder with microphones pointed like suppressed pistols at the chairs. Pete sat in one of the two chairs on the far side of the table, looking as pissed off as George Jefferson and almost as mean as Castillo. “Have a seat, Sonny. Little bastard's running late. He thinks it throws us off, but it just pisses me off.” “Thanks, Pete. Any advice?” “Tell the truth, son. Hell, the ATF's diggin' like a cat trying to buy a cow turd to make this whole thing land on someone else. Thing is, the truth ain't on their side. I already gave Carstairs the message logs showing we tried to coordinate with them.” Sonny was about to reply when the door opened and Assistant United States Attorney Carstairs came in, toting a huge leather briefcase and a narrow, pinched expression. He had to fight back a laugh. Randy was right; Lester could kick this guy's ass with one arm and one leg! “Sorry I'm late,” he said in a voice that wasn't sorry at all. “Detective Crockett?” “That's Lieutenant Crockett.” Sonny leaned back, his white blazer falling open and showing his light pink Henley shirt. “My apologies, lieutenant. I know you're busy, so we'll try to make this quick.” “Good. We're in the middle of an extensive undercover operation, and the task force is very small in terms of personnel.” “Yes, I've followed this...task force...with some interest.” There was a tone in Carstairs' voice Sonny didn't like, and he went on edge. “Good results, if a bit messy.” “You want messy, I'd take a look at how ATF tried to 'handle' Earl Holmes.” “What was your team doing out there, anyhow?” “In the course of our ongoing investigation we learned the two Dominican gangs were buying automatic weapons from a new source. We'd arranged through the 8-Ball Kings to meet their supplier. My partner, who's currently undercover, was posing as a buyer from New York and I was to handle the transportation.” “You expect me to believe you didn't know who the arms dealer was?” “Yeah. And if you'd done more that jack off in law school you'd know that's how this business works.” Sonny felt his cool slipping, and fought to stay focused. “We were after the source of the guns in the hope it might track back to the source of Red Cross, that heroin from Southeast Asia we've been tasked with shutting down.” Pete leaned in. “For the record, I approved every aspect of their operation. These Dominicans had to have learned of the arms dealer from someone, and communications intelligence strongly suggested it was Doc, the street name of the heroin supplier.” “So you said, chief deputy. And you claim to have tired to coordinate with ATF?” “No, we did try. No claim, unless you're claiming we faked all those message logs and calls with their Miami office.” Sonny smiled. “We do have some of those calls on tape, including the one my captain made when they botched their raid.” “You call the raid botched.” “What would you call it, then? Because of that's your idea of success I don't want to be around when you fail.” Sonny leaned forward, his eyes hot. “Holmes supplied LAWs to the Moncado cartel. He was known to have supplied M-60 machine guns to Maynard and his mercenaries. The ATF knew they were going after Holmes. And all they have as a plan is a black van with 'shoot me' spray-painted on the side and a few guys with semi-auto M-16s? We thought it was a standard meet and greet, but we had a sniper team deployed, comms on, and as much back-up as we could muster as close as we could position them. Yeah, botched is the nicest thing I'd call that mess they made.” “They say in their report that if your team hadn't have been there...” “They'd be dead. And they wouldn't have been able to turn in a report.” Sonny snorted. “I'd suggest you read the interrogation of Holmes' right hand. A goofball named Benny. He said straight out Holmes was looking forward to doing business with us. But the guy hated law enforcement with a passion. You really think an old-school redneck like that is gonna come out when you say hands up? No, he's gonna want to go out guns blazing, which is exactly what he did.” Pete put his hand on Sonny's arm. “I can't disagree with a thing the lieutenant has said. ATF both screwed up our operation, which we tried to coordinate with them, and got their people killed by failing to exploit the intelligence on Holmes this task force provided.” Carstairs squinted from one man to the other. “I think we're done for now. But I expect you to remain available, Lieutenant Crockett. I will have more questions.” He set down his pen. “I can say I hope your captain is more accommodating.” Sonny chuckled. “I'd like to be here to see that.” “See what?” “When Martin Castillo takes you apart.” Without another word Sonny turned and strode out of the stale room and into the fresh air of the hall. Pete came after him. “He's not a bad guy, really.” “Really?” “No, son. He's a grade-A jackass. Wants to build his career, and don't care who he steps on to get there. You don't want to push him too hard, but I think you did about right in there.” He chuckled. “I'll have to be here when he goes up against Castillo, though.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. And now I've gotta get back to work.” “You keep at it, son. Tell 'em all they're doing great work. There's people like him who don't want to see the task force succeed, but if we wrap Doc up nice and neat it'll buy us more time. And more operations.”

Sonny looked over at Rico as his partner wheeled the big Caddy into Rizzo's parking lot. “You ready?” “Ready as I'll ever be.” He snorted. “I had to make noise about leaving 'your guys' behind, but it works out. Then they won't miss Randy and Dave.” “Did he say why Hernan wasn't going to be there?” Something about that made Sonny's stomach shift just a bit, but he couldn't put his finger on it. “Just that he had other business. Nicky sounded all jacked up still about his big moment. He did say there'd be a couple of Kings along to seal the deal and check the weapons over.” Rico chuckled. “And I'm sure he'll bring that date of his.” “Gonna try for Mikko's number this time?” “Naw.” Tubbs shut the car off. “I...I got other things on my mind.” “Don't blame you there, pal.” Sonny pulled on his Ray-Bans and opened the car door. “Now let's go to work.” He barely had time to activate the watch microphone when Nicky came busting through the doors. Jimmy trailed along behind, looking confused, and in his wake were four Dominicans wearing the bandanas marking them 8-Ball Kings. Nicky's arms were up over his head, and Sonny actually thought he might have washed that damned shirt. “My man Cooper! Burnett! High noon, baby! Let's get this party started!” The taller of the Dominicans pushed his way past Jimmy. “”You follow us, ok? No fancy moves or the introduction doesn't happen.” He pointed at Sonny. “You. Burnett. You ride with me and my boys. Nicky, you and that moron go with Cooper.” Rico sneered. “Tell you what, chump. YOU ride with me. I just made you all about a million dollars richer. And there's the little matter of the finder's fee and percentage.” The tall one screwed up his face, and Sonny thought for a moment Rico might have gone too far. Then his expression changed. “Sure. Why not? We go first, and they follow. That way nothing happens.” “And you trust Nicky so much you didn't tell him where the meet was?” Sonny laughed. “Looks like you ain't as made as you thought you were, pal.” “It...it ain't like that.” “Shut up.” Sonny locked eyes with the leader. “Let's get this done. Time's money in my line of work.” “In ours also, friend.” He turned to a thickset Dominican sporting a mustache hanging down both sides of his face past his chin. “Zopo here will drive. It's the town car. Vaca, you're with me and Cooper.” “Let's do it, then.” Rico looked at Sonny and chuckled. “They get too fresh, which one you gonna shoot first?” “Jimmy, then Zopo or Zappa or whatever his name is. Nicky will just shit all over the car, and I think that short one will, too. What about you?” “The one with the mouth.” “Call me Ricky.” The lead Dominican laughed. “You know, I like you two. You got balls like watermelons. Hernan was right. We gonna do a lot of business. Eddie thinks so, too.” Rico waved toward the car. “Then let's get down to it and stop wasting time. You sure your boy can keep up?” “He'd better if he don't want Burnett to shoot him.” Ricky smiled. “You got that finder's fee?” “Five grand.” Rico grinned back, pulling a wad of hundreds out and stuffing them back into his jacket pocket. “You get it as soon as we meet the man with the guns and see some of his goods.” “Where is this little sideshow? I got a meeting later this afternoon.” “Take us about an hour.” “Fantastic. Swamp air does wonders for my complexion.” “It's worth the ride, Burnett. You'll see.” Ricky looked at his men and nodded. Zopo headed right for a dark town car and started it up. “Now let's roll. I don't want to keep out friends waiting.” All Sonny could do was hope Rico had found a way to turn on his mic. He climbed in the town car, almost choking as a wave of cologne poured out the open door. “There is such a thing as showers. You guys know that, right? And you don't use the whole bottle at once. Just wanna make that clear, too.” Zopo just looked at him and threw the car into gear. The other Dominican climbed in back, pinning Nicky between him and a sullen Jimmy. The big guy started to whine. “You didn't say we were goin' into the swamp, Nicky.” “Shut your damned mouth. I don't pay you to talk.” “Just like your women, right Nicky?” Sonny grinned when he heard Zopo and the other Dominican chuckle. Good. They know more English than they're letting on. “I'd be careful back there, Jimmy. Nicky might get confused and think you're his date.” “Keep it up, Burnett, and I'll...” “You'll what? Try anything and your brain's scattered all over the back of this car. And I don't think Zopo here wants to mop that up afterwards.” Sonny turned and glared at Nicky until the little punk looked away. “Just because you hire a big man doesn't make you a big man. Keep that in mind.” Looking forward, he started counting on ramps. Looking for a way to drop details into a conversation just in case Rico wasn't transmitting. He needed a way to keep the Roach Coach clued into their location. Even with the transponders Stan had added that morning. Zopo wasn't much of a talker, but it turned out the other Dominican was. Sonny was able to keep a good running travelogue going, based mainly on bars they passed or an occasional strip club. It was harder once they left the city behind, but by then he guessed it didn't matter. There were only so many places they could go, and between Stan and Castillo they should be able to place Dave and Randy close enough to lend a long arm if needed. Still...he didn't like not knowing. Nicky continued to sulk. “None of this would be happening without me.” “Sure, Nicky. Sure. You got your big boy pants and everything. Couldn't make it with the Mendozas, so I guess it's good the Kings are working out.” “Screw you, Burnett. I got plans, and they got plans. It's gonna work out great.” Sonny smiled and looked back out the window, watching the swamps roll by. They were out far enough the sub-divisions hadn't taken root, and only a scattering of old houses and even cabins showed people lived here at all. He remembered this kind of country from his childhood. Dark, rich land steeped in stories and traditions. Some good, and some downright evil. Looking through the windshield he saw Rico kick on the Caddy's left turn signal and start to pull onto one of the dirt roads running away from the pavement like weak veins from a dark artery. “That's a hell of a name to see out here,” he said when he caught sight of a sagging road sign. “Freinburg Road. Hell, I thought they all moved to Lauderdale.” “Shows what you know.” Nicky puffed up a bit, providing a perfect smokescreen for Sonny's little line, “There's Feinburgs all up and down this part of the county. Hell, I used to date one.” He laughed. “And let me tell you, she could...” “We're almost there.” Zopo had a higher voice than Sonny would have thought, but his face remained expressionless. “Man! The old Rhinegold place! We used to come out here...” “Nicky. Shut up.” Zopo turned after parking behind Rico. “You're an annoying little punk, you know that?” But you told them exactly where we are. I might even buy you a beer later, you little punk. Sonny opened the door and stepped out, smelling the stink of rotting vegetation and decay he'd hated both here and in Vietnam. “Let's get this shit done.” Ricky stepped out of the Caddy, a smile on this thin face. “I see Nicky survived the ride. There may be hope for him yet.” “I was a close thing.” Sonny smiled, feeling Nicky's glare on his back. Rico looked around. “I don't see any guns. Just some damned old shack straight out of Uncle Tom's Cabin. And I ain't fond of that image.” “They're back that way.” Ricky pointed to where the road continued. “Seems these fools tried farming back that way, too. There's a barn and some other shit. That's where the deal goes down.” Looking down, Sonny could make out at least three sets of truck tire tracks heading into the trees. He didn't like it, but there wasn't any choice. Ricky had already started walking, Zeppo close behind. Shooting Rico a look, he shrugged and started walking. At least the grass beside the road wasn't torn up. He didn't want to think of what the mud would do to his shoes. Earl Lester Holmes sat in the back of his Goddamn authentic American Jeep and waited. The lookouts reported back seeing two cars, and they'd picked out the Dominicans right away. And they also got a good look at black dude dressed like a high-end pimp and two white guys; one dressed like a jailhouse punk and the other all in black with sunglasses. That must be Burnett. Matches what I heard of him. And Cooper's said to be a fancy dresser. In the front seat Benny shifted. “You want to talk to them first, boss?” “Cooper and Burnett? You bet I do. All I want from them damned Dominicans is their money. After that they can shit all over each other for all I care. We're done with them. It's these other two that got my interest.” He looked around. “Everyone know their places?” “Yes, boss. Waitin' on your say-so before they do anything. We got the Tech 9s over yonder just where you wanted 'em, and that smaller case with things to show Cooper if you feel the need.” “Good man.” Holmes smiled, then leaned forward. “I see 'em comin' down the road now. Let's go say hello.” He started to climb out of the jeep when the roar of a powerful truck engine filled his ears. A black step van rolled out of the undergrowth that had been hiding it, and a loudspeaker blared from somewhere in the shadows. “ATF! This is a warrant raid! Throw down your weapons!” Holmes froze, then reached back in the Jeep for his Thompson sub-machinegun. “Federals! He screamed the word twice. “Say hello to 'em boys!” In the Roach Coach, Castillo sat bolt upright, his expression frozen in something Stan didn't want to see again. “Give me the ATF regional office. Now. And drive.” Sonny froze as soon as he heard the engine. Shit! He knew what was coming. The damned ATF had their own little show on, and jumped the gun as usual. He heard someone yelling up by the barn, but he couldn't make out the words. Looking at Rico, he was about to shout, but the words died on his lips. As he watched, the hayloft door on the ramshackle barn burst open and he saw a long, familiar barrel traverse out. “Rico! Cover! They've got a Ma Duce!” “What?” “A fucking .50! Cover!” Sonny turned and sprinted for the nearest solid thing he could remember seeing as the heavy machine gun opened fire. The booms were deafening, and the muzzle flash lanced out like gouts of flame. Crashing down behind a rise in the ground, Sonny had to admit whoever was on the gun knew his business. He was firing short, measured bursts, and from the screams and rending metal he could just make out over the big gun he knew the gunner was focusing on the van. Or what was left of the van. Looking down, he saw the watch and his brain fought through the panic. “Dave! Take out the Ma Duce!” Down behind the Jeep, Holmes felt a big old smile spreading across his face. Let the damned Federals try to break up his little deal! From the screams and shouts he figured they were learning a new tune now, one that didn't line up with their little 'hands up' routine. Peeking up, he saw the shattered windshield of the van, blood splattering around the frame and seat where the big rounds had butchered the driver. Sparks flew as rounds tore into the engine, cracking the engine block and turning the once-proud symbol of Federal might into so much scrap metal. “Always wanted to do that,” he muttered, almost losing himself in the show. Then the slugs, every fourth round a tracer, tracked up and over the rear of the van. Torn metal and screams filled the air, and he turned back toward the barn and pumped his fist in the air. “You're hittin' 'em right on! Keep up the fire!” He looked over at his other men. “You boys quit starin' and start puttin' out some lead. There's enough Federals out there for everyone!” And that reminded him... Looking around, he tried to find the spot where he'd last seen the colored boy and his white sidekick. Cooper and Burnett. He just hoped the damned Federals hadn't hit them yet, or worse managed to arrest them. Raising the old Thompson he sent a burst of .45 slugs after an ATF agent who looked to be trying to get around their position. “Hot damn! Got me one! Get to shootin', Benny!” He leaned back, looking at the men by the trucks. “Carter! Take your boys an' flank them bastards. Ian, put down a base of fire. Keep 'em pinned so they can't move. We got the bastards right where we want 'em!” Sonny heard someone shouting over the roar of gunfire. He thought it was Holmes, but there was no way to look. He didn't want to so much as raise a hair. The gunner in the hay loft didn't have to move that big gun more than a whisker and he could take them all out. Looking over, he saw Tubbs, Walther in hand. His eyes were wide, and when Sonny made eye contact Rico just shook his head. “We're pinned down!” he shouted. “We can't stay here. If we do, we're dead.” Sonny tried to block the roar of the .50 out of his mind, but it wasn't working. How could they move without drawing fire from that beast? Some scattered pops came from where he thought the remaining ATF agents had gone to ground, but there was no focus to their fire. A random shot or two from an M-16, immediately chased by a blast from the big .50. By now he knew Holmes would be trying to send men around the flanks. He and Tubbs might have a chance, if they hadn't been blown, but the ATF would be butchered. Gathering what was left of his courage, he touched the ring under his shirt and took a better grip on his own .45. Maybe he could distract them enough for Tubbs to make a run for it. And then everything changed. There wasn't much high ground in the rolling swampland around the farm Sonny had indicated, but Dave and Randy managed to find a spot where they could just look down on the property. They'd seen the trucks by the barn and set up to cover it, guessing the deal would happen there. But they hadn't seen the big gun go into position. And once it opened up they had to shift so they could get a view of the hayloft door. Randy was on the spotting scope. “He's tearin' the shit out of that van. Hit the driver first, and then he's just workin' up and down the thing. Our boys must be pinned. Can't see the boss or Tubbs.” “Range?” Dave snugged the M-21 into his shoulder, adjusting the scope. “Three twenty five. Wind about five miles from east to west.” Going to maximum zoom, Dave found the gunner. Or his shadow back in the loft. Flame blasted from the muzzle of the .50, chased a second later by the chained booms of the shots. He shifted the dots in the scope, compensating for range and distance. “I make it three thirty.” “No. Three twenty five.” “Roger three twenty five.” “Shoot.” Dave took a breath, then exhaled partway, letting the air flow loose in his nose and throat. The scope picture was perfect, He thought he could see the man now, tattoos and a bad mohawk. His finger found the trigger. Then the rifle recoiled. “Hit.” “Hit. Just below the head. Throat shot. He's done.” Randy shifted his head. He had the earpiece in. “Boss says hit the gun. Put it out of commission.” “Roger. Range three twenty two.” He fired three times in rapid succession, calling “hit” each time and seeing sparks jumping from the metal of the gun's feed cover. “Three hits confirmed. It looks like a tank ran over it. That gun's out.” Randy shifted. “New target. Redneck with a Mini-14 in the tree just past the west corner of the barn.” “Range four hundred.” “Confirm. Range four hundred. He's looking for us.” Dave felt the air flow into his lungs and then ease back out. The dots shifted again, and the rifle pushed back into his shoulder. “Hit. He ain't lookin' no more.” “Hit. Head shot. He's done. New target. Ten yards in front of the big barn door. Partly covered by the truck. Redneck with an M-16.” “Range three hundred.” “Confirm.” Again the air hissed in and trickled out. “Hit.” “Confirm. He's down. New target...” Down on the ground, Rico looked at Sonny. “What the hell?” “Dave. They got here in time!” Sonny steadied out his 4506 and put two rounds into Zopo, who seemed to be putting things together and had his pistol out and pointed at Rico. Ricky started to shout and haul out his own Beretta, and Rico shot him three times with the Walther. The big rifle continued to boom off in the distance, each shot chased by a scream. Sonny could hear the rednecks shouting about a sniper in the high ground. Losing their focus. This was his chance. Maybe his only one before they got their shit together. “Rico! Cover me!” He knew what he had to do. Holmes and his men still had numbers, and the ATF SWAT team was combat ineffective at best. One a scattered pop or two was still coming from the undergrowth near the smoking van, and he couldn't really tell if it was men actually shooting or ammunition cooking off in the van. With the Dominicans down, he and Rico had to make their move. When Holmes got his men back under control it would only be a matter of time before raw numbers told out. Rico nodded, popping up and sending six quick shots in the direction of one of the big trucks. It wasn't enough to hit any of Holmes' men, but it was enough to make them duck and hold their positions while they tried to identify a new threat. Gathering himself, Sonny scrambled to his feet and sprinted for a pile of deadfall in front of the barn. It wasn't great cover, but with the the big gun silenced he figured it was enough. Something tugged in his knee, but he ignored it and kept moving. No time for fancy moves...they just got you killed. Diving, he saw a skinny, pockmarked man was already behind the wood pile. The man started to bring up what looked to be a sawed-off shotgun, and Sonny put two rounds through his face. Rolling to avoid the mess of blood and brains, he used his elbows to haul himself into cover. Someone had seen him move. Bullets started knocking chips off the dry, old wood, the volume of fire rising as Holmes' men started finding their nerve. Taking a firm grip on the Smith & Wesson, he got his feet under him and sucked in a lungful of air, getting ready to shout for Rico to move. Another shot boomed from behind him, and he watched as one of the rednecks clutched at himself and spun away in almost slow motion, body and spray of blood in one direction, a Mini-14 dropped by nerveless fingers going the other. Dave was still at work. Rico kept low, reloading after sending a few more rounds in the direction of the truck. He didn't think he'd hit anyone, but if it kept their heads down it all good. He guessed Sonny was about to should for him to move, and he took a deep breath, making sure his footing was solid the muddy soil. Then a new voice boomed over the babble. “Goddamned Federals! You ain't takin' me today!” Earl Lester Holmes charged around the corner of one of the trucks, his Thompson blazing. One of the ATF agents who'd decided to make a one-man charge folded like a jackknife and died, catching the bulk of the burst in his midsection. Rico came to his feet in what felt to him like slow motion, the Walther locked in both hands. “Drop it! U.S. Marshals!” Holmes turned, his mouth open in a scream. “Screw you, Federals! Screw...” Rico fired four times, the pops from the 9mm merging into one shot it was so fast. Sonny was a heartbeat behind, the Smith & Wesson's booms coming even faster. Earl Lester Holmes fell with a total of eight bullets in his body. The Thomson tumbled to the mud, steaming as its hot barrel touched the damp ground. Once they saw their leader die, the fight went out of the rest of Holmes' men. Even Benny dropped his Colt and threw up his hands the second Holmes hit the muddy ground. Rico looked around, sighing when he caught sight of Nicky's riddled body. He'd tried to run, and ran right into some of Holmes' men. Jimmy looked to have gone down in the same blast of bullets. But then it hit him. The ATF had been cut to pieces. By their own damned stupidity. The old rage boiled up in a heartbeat and overflowed. He holstered his Walther and set off toward the smoking van. “What the hell were you assholes thinking? Raiding this guy? You're lucky you all weren't killed!” A skinny man in a black ATF windbreaker got up from behind some deadfall. Rico noticed he didn't look to have fired his weapon at all. “And who the hell are you, cowboy? Messing up my operation! I...” Sonny stepped forward. Normally he'd be shouting with Rico, but something changed. Rico didn't recognize his partner. When he spoke his voice was a hiss, and it cut through everything like a whip. “Shut up. This was our operation. We tried to coordinate with you, but your office wouldn't budge. My 'cowboys' saved your men.” “Bullshit. I don't care how fancy your damned badge is. You're going down for this.” “He didn't kill your men.” Martin Castillo's voice brought the entire scene to a halt. The surviving ATF agents moved to arrest Holmes' men, see to their wounded, anything to get them away from the owner of that voice. Rico hadn't seen or heard him arrive. He just appeared, the black suit and white shirt stark against the green of the farmland. “You killed your men. You sent them into an unknown situation without proper planning or backup. My report already reflects that. And your superior knows that. He killed your men by extension. And you both knew what that man was capable of.” Castillo's dark eyes blazed, and the ATF agent fell to the ground like he'd been struck. “We didn't know this was Earl Holmes. Your people did. And they lied about it.” Sonny looked back at the barn. His voice was still low. Deadly low. “The man sold LAWs, you idiot. Why wouldn't you think he'd have a machine gun of some kind on hand?” Castillo looked at the broken man in the mud, and Rico remembered the way he'd looked at Joe Dalva. This was worse. “Your career is over. If you're lucky someone will hire you as a crossing guard. Now see to your people. It's the least you can do.” He turned and stalked back toward the Roach Coach, and for the first time Rico noticed the big .44 in his hand. His own anger started to fade when he realized that if the ATF lead agent had tried anything there was a good chance Castillo would have shot him. It was quiet in the conference room. More like a funeral than a debriefing, Sonny decided as he looked around the room. Mindy looked up from her notes. “What was the count again?” “Five ATF agents killed, another six wounded.” Sonny could still hear the fight in his mind. “Four of them were all in the van. Before Dave took out that .50. Holmes got the last one.” “With you and Rico running your mics it was easy for Stan to vector us into position. It was a near thing, though.” Randy looked at his field notes. “A few yards to the east and we couldn't have relocated.” Castillo looked up. “Let me be very clear on one thing. This is all on ATF. They lied to us about not having an operation. They underestimated Holmes, even with all the intel we'd given them after Maynard was killed.” He turned to Sonny. “What did Benny say?” “He said this was supposed to a simple handoff to the Dominicans and a meet and greet with me and Rico. Holmes was paranoid as hell, but he'd checked us out and we looked solid. He had the big gun on hand just in case we tried something, but he wasn't looking to take us out. In fact, Benny said he was hoping Rico would take the place of Maynard as the man with deep pockets.” “Until that chump the ATF put in charge set off his little party.” Rico's eyes narrowed. “Where does that leave us?” “And where does that leave the Kings?” Trudy spoke for the first time, looking not at her notes but at the map. “Their big deal's a bust. But they might have gotten some help from Metro-Dade, of all people.” “How's that?” Sonny looked at her in confusion. “While ATF was busy screwing things up, a couple of unis in Metro-Dade made a routine traffic stop. Turns out the guy behind the wheel of the stolen car was none other than the head of Los Tech 9s. He started shooting, the unis returned fire, and now the Tech 9s are without a boss.” “And if they learned anything from the Mendozas they'll start fighting amongst themselves for control in about...” Sonny looked at his watch. “Now. That'll take the pressure off the Kings.” “And maybe start some with the Blancos. They're gonna see the Tech 9s as weak now. Easier to take a bite out of them than the Treys.” Rico chuckled. Sonny nodded. “Yeah, but I want to say thanks to Dave. We'd all be puddles of goo if you hadn't have taken out that gun.” “Randy talked me onto the target. I just pulled the trigger.” “Either way, you two took the wind right out of the sails of Holmes' boys. Likely saved the ATF boys. They were so shook up they could have been overrun by a troop of Girl Scouts.” “We need to focus on Doc.” Castillo's voice was firm. “Taking Holmes out was a nice bonus, but it's not what the chief deputy tasked us with doing.” “We still have Teddy Prentiss in play. Cooper would be laying low after that mess in the swamp, so I can focus on Teddy full-time. I also heard from a little bird that someone's been looking into Teddy's background.” Rico smiled. “I still know a cop or two in Jamaica, and one of them backstops Teddy for me. Got a call from him last night. Someone from Miami is nosing around and hearing the right things.” “You think it's Doc's men?” “It has to be, mon. No other man be lookin' for me.” Rico smiled. “It's possible someone else got a whiff, but Doc's the only one I can think of who'd be that thorough. Who else is gonna call the islands to check on someone who moves a bit of reefer now and again?” “Stay with it.” Castillo looked around the table. “What happened today was tragic, but it wasn't of our making. I know it's hard, but we have to stay focused on our operation and what went right today. If they hadn't have been there, we would have made contact. The plan worked. Everyone was where they needed to be and made the right moves and calls. Take pride in that.” Back in their office, Rico let out a long sigh. “Man, I can still hear the big gun. It turned that damned armored van into Swiss cheese.” “I head fifties back Nam, but never had one fired at me like that. And it's an experience I do not want to repeat.” Sonny sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. “How are we gonna work this Prentiss angle?” “Teddy needs transportation, so I can get you in that way. Assuming Doc wants to move product that way. He's got all the cards right now, Sonny, and I don't like it.” “Neither do I.” He was about to go on, when Trudy stuck her head through the open doorway. “Guys, you need to hear this. I just got a call from a source over in Homicide. They just found Hernan Soldado's body right on the edge of Kings turf. He'd been shot in the back of the head.” “That's Doc's message. Or at least that's what Vallencio thinks.” “I think he's right, Rico. And I think this is about to get damned interesting.” He turned to Trudy. “Thanks. Tell Stan and Lester they might be looking at overtime. I think our taps are about to explode.” It was better to think about that than what had happened to the ATF agents. All because their boss was a glory-hungry moron. “Excellent work today, Leo.” “Thanks, boss. Did him just how you wanted and left him right where you said.” Leo chuckled. “Damn shame about that redneck bastard and his boys, though.” “He got greedy.” Carlos looked down at the desktop. “And he must have gotten careless, too. How else would the ATF have found him?” “Nicky, maybe?” “We can't ask him, though.” Carlos peered at Leo through his John Lennon glasses. “And I heard a rumor than Cooper might have been there, too.” “I can check.” “Don't bother. He's not dead, or we would have heard. But he might have decided to leave town. Not that it matters. That cat was too flash for what we need.” “Whatever, boss.” Leo shifted from one foot to the other. “What's eatin' you, man?” “Metro-Dade took out the head of the Tech 9s today.” “I heard.” “And now the Kings don't have their gats.” “So? The Columbians will start fighting amongst themselves. It's what those cats do when a leader dies. Look at the Mendozas. The Calderones. It's the way of things with them.” “What if this time they go after the Kings instead?” “They won't. The Blancos got their noses bloodied by the Treys. They'll want to get their balls back. They'll do that by whacking the Tech 9s and then maybe trying to finish the Kings. And we win any way it goes. That's the beauty of it Leo.” Reaching into the desk, Carlos pulled out a stack of bills. “Your bonus for a job well done.” Once Leo was gone, Carlos lit up one of his special Camels and held the smoke in for longer than usual. It had been a long day, and one full of surprises. He wasn't surprised that Earl Holmes had gone down in a blaze of gunfire. He was surprised at how it had happened. Holmes was as paranoid as they came, but he had a big organization. One that could easily leak. Maybe one of them whispered in the ear of the wrong coked-up whore and it got back to the ATF. Another reason to stay small and content. He did wonder how the Kings and Treys would respond to his latest message. Hernan had been getting too greedy, making deals with people who should be left alone and whispering in the wrong ears. It also took out one of the few leaders Eddie had left in the disorganized mob that had once been the 8-Ball Kings. That made Eddie even more vulnerable. And he'd antagonized the Columbians to begin with, dangling Red Cross in front of their greedy noses when he tried to expand his business past the normal borders. Smiling, Carlos reached down and patted the Colt tucked in his waistband. First a meeting with Teddy Prentiss. And then, if that met his expectations, maybe he'd send his own personal message with Eddie. Taking another drag, he inhaled the smells from the kitchen. If he closed his eyes he could almost believe he was back in Cholon. When they started rebuilding after the Tet offensive in '69 he'd found a place almost exactly like this. Restaurant in front, whorehouse upstairs, and his little operation tucked away in a back room. He didn't have the whores here, but the restaurant was almost enough. Some nights he almost missed Saigon. Almost. Jenny was waiting for him in the stern of the Dance. “I'd have you over, but Vellamo still smells of paint and varnish.” Her hair was actually brushed, and he noticed she was wearing a simple white strapless dress. “I wanted to show you I have more than two shirts,” she said with a giggle when she noticed his raised eyebrow. “It's really pretty. And you look beautiful.” He sighed, opening the companionway doors. “Sorry, I'm not good company tonight. You don't have to leave, but I likely won't talk much.” “I could tell watching you walk down the dock. You looked like the weight of a thousands suns was on your shoulders.” She smiled. “I read that somewhere, I think.” “It's about how I feel.” He sank back in the familiar settee cushions, and she slipped in beside him. “Lots of bad things happened today. Things that didn't have to happen.” “But not to you?” “No. I was lucky, I guess.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit up, drawing the smoke into his lungs. “I don't know, darlin'.” “We never do. That's what makes life interesting.” She smiled and touched his leg. “I made you dinner. It's not much, but I had a feeling you'd be tired.” “That's putting it lightly.” He smiled, reaching down and squeezing her hand. He liked this side of her, and he wondered how much of it was an act. Or if any of it was an act. She pulled a bowl out of the small refrigerator. “I hope you like salad. I got too busy restoring the Vellamo and let most of my provisions go bad.” She shook her head and looked down. “I really wanted to do more for the first real dinner I made for you.” “It's fine.” He smiled, touching her shoulder. “After today anything's fine.” “Good. Well, not good because of the day but good because it still worked out.” She poured wine and they sat and ate and talked about nothing in particular until it was dark in the saloon. Sonny felt the day drain away, replaced by something warm and calm he couldn't quite identify. She'd cleared the plates and the big bowl, pouring more wine as they talked. Then she leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you.” “For what? You made dinner.” “For giving me a chance. I know I almost made a mess of things.” “No. It's nothing like that.” He smiled, searching for words that wouldn't quite come. “You were just so different it was hard to take in.” “Hard to believe?” She smiled. “I”m not always like that, Sonny. But I want to be like that when I'm with you. You're the first man who ever made me feel that way. Safe enough to just be myself.” “I meant it when I said you were beautiful in that dress, But don't change because of me.” “I like dresses. I just don't get to wear them much.” She smiled, lowering her eyes. “But I do want to take it off now.” He reached behind her, unzipping it. “Let me help.” She smiled, then held up her hand. “Don't you want to know what I was going to tell out? Out on Vellamo the other night?” “Sure.” Sonny smiled, enjoying the humor dancing in her eyes. “I was going to say I handle her like you handle me.” She let the dress fall from her body. “And I just cast off the ropes.”

The conference room was notable for its silence the next morning. Sonny, Randy, and Castillo grinned at each other, noticing the rest of the task force was wearing sunglasses inside and nursing steaming cups of coffee washed down with aspirin. Even Trudy looked a bit worse for wear, the result Randy whispered to Sonny of trading shots of tequila with Gina in the aftermath of the proposal. Castillo nodded to Sonny with a thin smile on his face. “Ok, people,” Sonny announced in a voice that was much quieter than it sounded, “we got a couple of announcements. First, I want to congratulate Stan again on taking the big leap. Let me know when you get the date planned, pal. Because the wedding's on me.” “What?” The sunglasses almost fell off Stan's face. “But...” “It's the least I can do for both of you. Hell, Caitlin left me pretty well set, and she loved that New Zealand trip Gina picked out so much I figured this was a great way to thank her, and to thank you for not knocking my block off when I came back to Miami.” Left unsaid was his own guilt about events long passed, both with Gina and Stan. He'd be setting up an endowment to run the house soon, and that would tie quite a bit of the money up for years to come. Might as well use it for some more local good while he could. “And that brings me to the second social announcement.” He turned to Rico. “I got some news about Debbie.” He smiled as Rico's jaw fell open and Mindy shot him a glare that could be seen though the dark lenses. “She thinks Dave is sweet.” “Shit!” Dave's coffee up hit the table with a crash, sending dregs over the front of his shirt. “How the hell did you come up with that shit?” “She told me, big guy. When I was on my way out the door. And Tubbs there is such a great detective he's got her number ready for you already. Go ahead and give him that valuable intel, Rico.” Rico snicked as he reached into his jacket. “She is really sweet, Dave. Ow!” He grabbed his shoulder in response to Mindy slugging him in the bicep. “We went out once! For a drink! I never called her again.” “In all fairness to Tubbs, he really didn't even call her again.” Sonny waited for the noise to die down before turning back to the map. “And now that we've had our fun, let's get back to what pays the bills. Still no word from Hernan or Nicky?” He hid another grin as Tubbs shook his head, then winced at the movement. “We'll give 'em a few hours and then we need to push. We might want to see if the lab can get any prints off any of those kilos of Red Cross. I'm sure half the city touched it at some point, or it's been wiped clean, but we might get lucky. And on a related front, I got some info from an informant last night that should up our stock value with the Coasties. A mid-level runner they've been looking for. I got two of his favorite routes and refueling points. So if we need anything maritime, they should be more than happy to oblige.” Castillo cleared his throat. “We need to move on the link to the guns with care. I know ATF is working some leads in that area, but they're less than forthcoming, as usual. Still, we can't let more guns hit the streets. Not if they're linked to Doc and Red Cross in any way. Metro-Dade's happy with the slowdown in fatalities in the Treys' territory, but they are getting nervous with the Kings.” Rico popped another aspirin and chased it with cold coffee. “I'll push hard on Hernan and Nicky, but I also need to bounce back by and see if that chump bartender at the Hilton has anything. Teddy might prove useful down the line, since I don't think Doc will bite at Cooper.” Castillo nodded. “If he was interested he would have by now. I think Cooper's profile's too big for him. So Prentiss might be just what we need.” “Just what the doctor ordered.” Stan chuckled and then looked around. “Ok, not one of my better efforts. What can I say? I'm hungover and newly engaged. Set me up in some blue suede shoes and I'll shuffle off to Graceland.” “Word of advice, Stan. Just because Heartbreak Hotel has a honeymoon suite doesn't mean you should take Gina there on the honeymoon.” Rico started to chuckle, then rubbed his temples and thought better of it. “She'd drop you off at the end of Lonely Street in two seconds flat.” “Who knew Ricardo Tubbs knew Elvis?” “You sing it so damned much how could I not?” Tubbs chuckled. “Stan and Lester, I need you two to go through the tapes from last night and this morning. See if anything tracks about Cooper and the guns. Dave and Randy, you might think about some more range time with those M-21s. If this turns nasty we're gonna need firepower. Tubbs and I will be doing the same with our pistols, and I'd encourage everyone else to do the same. We're got four pissed-off gangs, an unidentified arms dealer, and an equally unidentified major dealer running around, and that doesn't even touch the hangers-on and wannabes who come out for these things. We need to be at the top of our game.” Sonny looked around, then nodded to Castillo. “Anything else, captain?” “You hit the big points. Stay sharp, and stay cautious.” Sonny poured himself a cup of Stan's coffee and waited until the others had shuffled away before heading into the office he and Rico shared. Castillo was making phone calls, and he didn't want to be within fifty feet of that damned fax machine unless there was no avoiding it. Rico looked up from his desk, and Sonny could tell he was still squinting behind the sunglasses. “Where'd you duck off to last night? Never mind. Jenny, right?” “Yeah. That dealer's her ex. He'd been threatening her, so I figured I'd just pull him out of circulation.” “That ain't all there is to it. I know you, partner.” “Ok, pal. I tell you, but then you tell me about Mindy. I know you, too.” Sonny sipped the hot coffee and looked up at the ceiling. “It's real, Rico. She's giving up smuggling. The whole thing.” “You believe her?” “Yeah, I do. It's strange as hell. I mean, she talks like a hippie most of the time. But she's serious. It was her idea. And she still doesn't want to know what I do. But yeah, it's real. Robbie and I talked about that before he left. He reminded me that sometimes you just know. I knew it with Caitlin, and now I know it with Jenny,” “So when do I get to meet her?” “After you tell me about Jenny. A deal's a deal, partner.” “Hell, yeah I guess it is. We just started talking and hit it off. She's from Boston, so she gets the big city stuff. Art, music. Hell, she knows Bird and The Sound.” “You lost me.” “Charlie Parker and Stan Getz. The two best cats who ever touched a saxophone. It was nice, man. We just talked. Well...drank more than we should have. But mostly just talked. And gave Stan hell when he broke into some Elvis tune just before we left.” “She's good people, that's for sure. And she might be a better shot than you are. With that Irish temper I'd tread carefully, amigo.” “You got that right.” Rico smiled. “I still can't get over it, though. Stan and Gina. I wonder how long he'd been working up the nerve?” “Probably by the fourth shot. He was puttin' them down over there.” “And you're footing the bill.” Sonny looked out the window. “I owe them both, Rico. More than I can ever repay. And that money's just sitting there. I don't spend on myself. But if I can use it to make good memories for my friends, or help some kids get a better chance at life, I'm gonna do it.” “She's proud of you, man.” Rico laid his hand on Sonny's forearm. “I know that. She was a classy lady.” “You know Jenny said the same thing. She saw her picture on the Dance and the ring. All she said was how beautiful she was and how I must miss her. Not an ounce of jealousy. Never seen anything like it. Except with Cait.” He shook his head, sending the memories back to their corner for now. “You wanna hit the range before trying to lean on Nicky and Hernan or after?” “I'll wait until my head doesn't feel like a hydrogen bomb test is stuck on infinite replay, thank you very much.” “That would be after, then, I'm guessing.” Sonny chuckled and walked over to drop the blinds. “I'll leave you to your recovery. God knows I've been there too damned many times myself.” The field phone jangled, and Carlos picked it up on the first ring. “Go.” “Got what you wanted, boss.” Juan had a soft voice, not harsh like Leo's at all. He'd done a stint spinning platters for an underground station in Detroit back in the day, and he knew how to use his pipes. Sometimes Carlos would call just to hear him talk. “Prentiss is the real deal. Got contacts up and down the coast and as far out as Jamaica some of the other islands. All small dealers, though. He don't go over ten keys of anything, and hasn't for at least five years. He's a broker pretty much. Lines up product with other dealers and arranges transport. A party guy, but keeps his hands clean and profile low.” “Any bad words?” “None that I heard. A couple of the islands cats were pissed he wouldn't run coke no more, or didn't broker more weight, but this Prentiss told them to screw off.” Carlos nodded. “Sounds like a cat we can do business with.” He was about to ask something else when the other phone rang. “And that's Leo. Good work, Juan. You know how to contact him? Be ready to, or find out how if you don't.” He hung up the first phone and picked up the second. “Go.” “Just got word from Jimmy's little Asian piece. The call's goin' out to Cooper this afternoon. Nicky's all jacked up because they want him to go with. He thinks it's his big break or some shit.” “Good. Be sure Hernan doesn't go.” “Already in the works, boss. I don't expect the actual meet will go down until tomorrow, but I got plans for both.” “Good work, Leo. As always.” Done with the phones, Carlos shifted in his chair, feeling that old Colt pinch at his midsection like it always did. It was a good reminder of where he came from, and what it took to stay where he was. Maybe he'd come to depend a little too much on Leo to do the heavy lifting for him. But Carlos also knew Hernan wasn't a target worthy of his time. Or energy. One would appear soon enough, and then he'd put that old automatic to good use. Maybe once it came time to shift the focus of the operation away from Miami. What Juan had said about this Prentiss opened new doors for Carlos. New, safer doors. The slide locked back on Rico's Walther, but this time he noticed and didn't keep trying to squeeze the trigger from muscle memory. All those years with a revolver left him with habits to unlearn and new processes to master. Looking at the next bench, he saw Sonny doing a speed reload with his big 4506, hitting the slide release with a practiced motion of his off-hand thumb and continuing to shoot. “You gotta be smooth before you can be fast,” Rico repeated to himself as he dumped his empty magazine and slammed home a loaded one, hitting the release with his free thumb and bringing the pistol up in a two-handed stance. It was getting there. He'd put maybe five hundred rounds through the Walther since he'd up-gunned, and it was starting to become a part of him. Not an extension like the little Chief's Special, but it was getting there. Further down the range he head a string of rapid booms as Dave and Randy worked through some kind of reaction drill with their semi-auto rifles. They'd been at it since the morning meeting, hangover and all on Dave's part, and he figured they'd be at it after the sun went down. Night shooting was a big part of some of their drills, and Rico decided he'd see if the wanted company one of those nights. Mindy and Trudy were shooting on the other side of Sonny, and further down Castillo's big Magnum punctuated events with its deeper roar. Mindy held her .45 like she'd been born with it, but Rico was more taken with her form in her jeans and the way the wind caressed her thick red hair. Shaking his head, he sent another pair of rounds downrange in a controlled pattern. First it had been single shots, then once he was hitting where he wanted he worked up to two. The next step was three. After that he figured he'd just be spraying cover fire. His last shot went wide when the pager on his belt vibrated. “Damn it!” Flipping on the safety, he set the hot Walther down and checked the small screen. It was Nicky's number. Looking over, he gave Sonny a thumbs up and cleared and secured his pistol. He'd clean it back at the office. After he called Nicky or whoever was using his phone. “It's on, man!” Nicky sounded high, like he was riding two rails of coke into a long, dark tunnel with his eyes for headlamps. “What's on? You're making no sense and pissing me off.” “The deal.” Nicky repeated the word, drawing it out. “D-E-A-L, man. Not today, though. Too late. They got stuff to do. But tomorrow. You meet me outside Rizzo's. Burnett can come too, so long as he doesn't kill me. The Kings got me closing the deal for them. Me! And you get in, too. Hernan said there was a finder's fee. Bring that along. You won't believe the gats these guys have. Top shelf. For extra they grind the numbers off and everything.” His words were tripping over each other in their haste to escape his mouth. “What time, chump? Tomorrow...what time?” “Noon, man. High noon. You get it? Like that bad Western my dad made me watch. But this is better. Better guns. Don't forget the finder's fee.” Rico stared at the buzzing handset like it was about to bite him. “What the hell was that?” Stan came out of the tech room with a confused grin on his face. “That was Nicky Fuentes on WAY too much blow telling me about the deal tomorrow.” Rico hung up, still hearing the rapid-fire voice in his ear. “Let the others know, will you, Stan? I gotta clean my pistol and then we'd better start planning. We don't have much time.” Two hours later Rico reached down and shut off the tape. “That's all we know. Nicky's gerbil head was about to explode, so I couldn't really dig anything out. And calling him back's a waste of time.” Castillo nodded. “The finder's fee?” Sonny looked at his notebook. “We never gave a price. Back when I was working Kern five grand was considered fair.” “Draw it. We have it in the office safe.” Rico nodded. “He didn't care if Sonny came along, which is good as far as I'm concerned. I'd rather share the target than carry it alone.” “And no clue where the real meet is.” Randy looked down. “Shit. We can set up on the fly, but I'd rather be in position before the curtain goes up.” “I'd like nothing better. But we ain't callin' the shots right now. That coke'd-up little weasel is.” Lester lifted his chipped cast. “We might be able to help there. If we use those mics again we can hear where the meet is and try to get Dave and Randy in close ahead of you. We'd have to watch for the arms dealers, but it could buy you ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe half an hour depending.” “One minute is better than no minutes.” Dave tapped his finger on the table. “Sold.” “What if they check for wires?” Trudy's eyes showed her concern. Rico shook his head. “These clowns haven't even patted us down for guns, let alone wires. Hell, I could carry a briefcase nuke right up to them and they wouldn't notice.” Sonny nodded. “It's a risk, but I think we have to take it. If we're blown, we can still grab them and try to sweat the deal location out of them.” Castillo nodded, and Rico was glad he was backing the plan. “Do it. They'll do the buy out of town. Probably in the swamps. So the real deal goes down about two.” “How do you figure?” Mindy turned to Castillo. “Fewer eyes. If these arms dealers are local, they're probably at least part white supremacist. They kinda have a corner on this market. And those boys like their gators and their swamps.” Rico realized he'd answered for Castillo and shook his head. “At least that's how this New York boy sees it.” “You're right, Rico. Holmes was just a bigger version of the smaller gangs.” He looked at Stan. “Nothing, lieu...I mean captain. There's nothing on their taps except calls to some two-bit wire service betting on the Steelers.” Stan chuckled. “Holmes does as well as I did when I was still...doing that. Which means he's losing.” “Do we know if ATF's operating around here?” Sonny looked at Castillo and then shot Rico a look. “Yeah. I don't want to end up buying from one of their people and have to deal with that crap again.” “ATF is still refusing to confirm any operations.” Castillo's eyes swept the table. “But I made some calls. There is every indication they're planning some kind of raid tomorrow. No one outside the agency knows where, though. They've cut Metro-Dade out of the loop.” Dave laughed. “And if the Feebs know they'll forget who knew it until after we bust up the show. Then they'll claim we ruined months of precision undercover work that had them the length of J. Edgar's junk from shutting down the entire illegal arms business in the whole Southeast.” “You know them too well.” Rico laughed, liking Dave's oddball sense of humor more and more each day. Having met his nephew, he understood the man's bitterness against the agency he felt had betrayed his brother and abandoned his family. “Still, we need to be alert.” Castillo looked down at the table. “ATF might be out there somewhere with firepower and warrants and not really know how to use either one. Sonny. Rico. Have your badges handy. The marshals' badges. That will make them think twice.” Sonny looked at Castillo and stepped in. Taking operational control of the plan Rico had sketched for them. “Comms check at 0900, weapons at 0930. We'll run through exact assignments again just before we roll. Rico and I will head to Rizzo's at 1130. The rest of you should stagger around that. We'll want some kind of rolling surveillance unit we get close to wherever the meet is.” Stan spoke up. “We can run that from the Roach Coach. The mics will show up on the map if we're close enough, and if we're not we can still direct traffic and run comms.” Castillo looked up, and his voice was not open for debate. “I will be in the field on this one. In the Roach Coach so I don't slow anyone down. And so I can call in back-up if it's needed.” Dave nodded, shooting a meaningful glance at Sonny. “Good call, captain. I got a feeling about this one. You getting it too, boss?” Rico felt his heartbeat climb when he saw Sonny nod. Then he decided. “Let's make it an early night. A quiet one.” Sonny nodded. “You got that right. See you all tomorrow morning. Bright and early. Coffee's on Stan, I'll bring the donuts.” Rico was on his way to the elevator when Mindy stopped him. “Rico? About last night. I...” “I had a great time, Mindy. Really. It was nice to just sit and talk about music and that.” He smiled. “Sonny...well...let's just say the first time I saw his tape collection I thought he'd ordered it from Sears.” She giggled, a musical sound he thought he could really get used to hearing. “Good. I...” “After things slow down, I'd like to take you to a club. A real club. Where they play jazz. We can have a drink or two. Talk. Maybe dance.” He did a few steps and spun. “I actually can dance.” “So can I.” She smiled. “I'd like that Rico. Really. And then...” “What happens, happens.” Rico smiled, wanting to touch her but deciding to take it slow. Turning, he saw Sonny waiting by the elevator with a big grin on his face. As soon as the doors closed, he sighed. “Don't say it.” “Just let it roollll.” Sonny laughed. “Hell, it worked for me. Maybe it'll work for you.” “She's a smart lady. Even if it don't roll that way I'm good with it.” He watched the floor lights flash past. “You really got a feeling about tomorrow?” Sonny's expression changed. “Yeah. Not sure what or why, but I do. Nicky's a punk why would they send him?” “He's just carrying money. And you can bet some Kings will be along for the ride.” “I know, man. I know. It all makes sense, but...” Sonny tapped the back of his neck. “Something here just says it ain't quite right is all.” “Is that damned thing ever wrong?” The elevator ground to a halt, and Rico stepped out into the dim garage. “Not often, Rico.” Sonny's smile was thin, almost sad. “Not very damned often.” She was waiting for him on the St. Vitus Dance, but sitting in the stern instead of breaking in. The blue silk shirt was buttoned most of the way, but he doubted she had anything under it. “I wanted to wait for you,” she explained, standing and kissing him on the lips. “So you could let me in properly.” “Thanks.” He kissed her back and led the way below. “I took care of that problem for you. Another day or two and you shouldn't have to worry about anything.” “What if he makes it here?” “I can handle him.” Sonny shrugged off his blazer, the Smith & Wesson glittering in the brown leather shoulder rig. “You don't need to worry about that.” “But I don't want you to get in trouble!” “If he comes after us, there won't be any trouble.” He smiled, watching her eyes soften. “Trust me.” “I do.” She walked over to him, undoing the first three buttons on the shirt. “I've waited so long to say that.” “Let me make dinner. I've got some steak that's in danger of going bad, and Elvis...” “I fed Elvis before you came home.” She smiled, sitting down and showing her long legs to their best advantage. “But I am hungry. I spent most of the day restoring Vellamo.” “Restoring?” He lit the propane burners and set about getting the steak ready. “Taking out the compartments. I had no deliveries to make, so that was easy. There's still one or two I need to do, but soon she'll be what she should have been all along.” “What's that?” “A pleasant retreat.” She smiled, her eyes taking on a distant quality. “A place to hear the sea speak. Carrying its word on the waves.” She sounds like Marty. “I know a guy you should meet.” He raised his hand when her eyes went wide. “Nothing like that, Jenny. He's a good friend. And very much in love with someone. He...talks like you sometimes. About the sea, I mean.” “He's a poet?” “More a warrior, I think. But yeah. Kind of that Japanese warrior-poet thing. He lives in this house...you'd have to see it, but it's down by the water. Some nights he just sits and listens to the sea. Trudy, that's his...I don't really know how to say it. The Vietnamese have a term. It means true love and it fits them perfectly. Anyhow, I think she listens with him, now.” “You envy them.” It wasn't a question. “I guess I do. Is it that obvious?” “No, but it makes you sad.” She smiled. “You don't need to be sad, Sonny. Not now.” He turned back to the steaks, adding them to the now-hot pan. The sizzle and smell of frying meat filled the boat. It was all so strange. And so fast. With tomorrow coming up fast he didn't want to think too much. He just wanted to be with her. Maybe just sitting and watching the sun set. “After we eat, would you like to take Vellamo out? She's rigged and ready. We could watch the moon rise and...” She smiled. “Be with the sea.” “That sounds like a damned good idea.” He watched the steaks with a practiced eye, adding potatoes and diced onion to fry in the rendering fat. “Got a busy day tomorrow, so the less thinking I do the better.” He turned to her and smiled. “Plus I'd get to see you sail.” “I put shorts on for that.” She actually blushed. “I had an accident with one of the lines once. It...wasn't fun. Usually a top, too. But once it gets dark...” Funny how the world works. The girl Rico wants to date talks jazz and art. Mine talks about taking her clothes off and how the sea talks. Sonny pulled plates off the rack and shut off the cook top. “Dinner's ready. We can eat and then head over to your place. I've got a shirt I can pull on over this.” He pointed to the gun. “I'd let you wear mine but it might not fit.” She giggled. “And I'd get in trouble from Mrs. Sternkowcz down the way.” “That old hag? Just tell her you'll tell old Emil about her and the pool boy. She'll butt out.” Sonny chuckled as she laughed. “I like Domingo. He's a good kid. Lousy taste in women, though. But she likes Emil's money. She won't risk losing that.” True to her word she pulled on a pair of almost-invisible cut-offs, making Sonny wonder just exactly what this accident had been and why he hadn't seen the scars, and then she had him cast off. They maneuvered away under auxiliary power, but once they were clear she shut off the motor and hoisted the sails. Sonny fancied himself a reasonable sailor. Not gifted, but competent enough. Jenny put him in the shade. She handled Vellamo with grace and poise, cutting through the choppy water with no effort and keeping just enough canvas on to make headway without showing off or risking control. And she laughed the whole time she was doing it, moving from the lines to the wheel and back again like a dancer on a stage. And once they were clear of the marina the shirt disappeared. It was just her, the shorts, the wheel, and the lines. Soon she lowered sail and let Vellamo ride under minimal power, almost drifting with the current. Then she hooked the wheel, keeping the ship on course. Only then did she sink back in the cushions and sigh. “I love doing that.” “And I could watch you do that forever.” It reminded him of Caitlin in the studio, going over a song until it was just so. Watching her move with the music. But this was different. He understood the tune she had out here. Caitlin's, no matter how hard he tried, was always something of a mystery. Jenny's tune he understood perfectly. “You handle her like she was made for you.” “Maybe...” Then she smiled. “Maybe what?” “I'll tell you later.” She slipped off her shorts. “Now we can watch the stars.” “Do you think you should go in the field tomorrow?” Castillo had been waiting for the question. It had hung over the table while they ate, and dogged their steps as they walked the beach. He noticed a new mast out there and wondered. But he couldn't shake the question. It finally came as they sat on the deck, letting the night envelop them. “I don't have a choice.” “But you do, Marty.” Trudy's voice was soft, but he could feel the worry in her eyes like a physical thing. “Sonny's got this.” “I need to be there if they need back-up. Don't worry. I won't be running through any swamps. I'll stay in the van unless there's no other way.” He reached over and touched her arm. “And I have to know if I can still do this. Even this little part of it. If I can't I need to make room for someone who can.” “I know all that, Marty. I really do. It's just...” She sighed. “I'm sorry.” “Don't be sorry. You're right to worry, my love. I'm not a reckless man. Not by nature. And with Stan getting married, I have to keep him steady. His world is about to change, and I don't think he knows how much.” “I know.” She smiled, and he could sense her gratitude for the change. But everything he said was true. He'd take no chances that weren't necessary. He had too much to lose now. “She was so happy. Is so happy. I talked to her today and all she could do was gush. And Sonny!” “He feels he has to make amends to them both. Maybe he does, but only he can answer that. But he also knows how hard it is to marry on a cop's pay. This way he starts them off with good memories and no debt for them. It's a rare gift.” “What was your marriage like?” He'd wondered when this would come. But he didn't fear it. Not anymore. “Simple. Not even legal by U.S. standards. We didn't go to the Consulate. It was just a simple ritual in the forest. They had a feast, there was singing, dancing. Offerings to the gods. And then it was over and they all went back to their fields.” She laughed. “I don't know what I'd expected, but that sounds like a family reunion in my old neighborhood.” “They are similar. Marriages there often signify unions of clans or combinations of power. Marrying for love isn't the rule in many clans. And it's often done in the mother's line.” “Marty...” He voice trailed off, lost in the echoing waves. “We can do whatever you like, my love.” The operation, Doc, Tech 9s, everything but her deep brown eyes vanished from Martin's consciousness. “I am bound to you forever, unless you wish otherwise. We can be formal, or not. Simple, or not. Or just be as we are. I want you to be happy.” “And I'm bound to you. I can't explain it, and I don't want to.” She paused. “It's just...” “The way we were raised. I have dim memories of a small church in the Cuban mountains. The cross. A priest in black robes who rode a mule. But some of that was pushed away by what I experienced in the world. More disappeared in the Laotian and Thai mountains. Another piece vanished when Father Wajda was murdered. But I share my life with you, and if you want a service, that's important to me.” “I...I don't know yet. I'm sorry.” “Don't be sorry, Trudy. We have time.” He stood and kissed her, feeling her rise into his arms. “We'll finish this operation and then we can see which path calls to us.” He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling her strength return. Her sadness fade. “And I apologize. I forgot what this could mean to you.” “I'll be fine. And you're right, we have plenty of time to decide. It's just...with all this going on...” “Let's go inside and have some tea, my love. I'd love to hear that piece you've been working on.” He smiled. “I wrote a poem to go with it.” “A poem?” “I dabble. Jack was a gifted poet and he helped me find what little voice I have when we were working with the Hmong in 1969.” He smiled. “It was either write poems or kill rats. The Hmong preferred killing the rats, so there we were.” She smiled, and he saw the joy return to her eyes. “What's it about?” “The sea. The mountains. You. All the good things in life.” He turned, taking her hand. “I'll start the water.”

Rico met him at the office door the next morning with a big grin on his face. “She was back, wasn't she?” “How can you tell?” Sonny sighed. “Wait. Don't answer that.” “So did she talk or did she TALK? That's what I want to know.” “Both.” Sonny walked through the conference room and stuck his head in Trudy's office. “Trudy? I hate to bug you, but can you run the name Donald or Donnie Westbrook when you get a chance? Thanks. I owe you.” “So that's what it's about. Another dude.” “I don't know for sure yet.” Sinking down in Castillo's chair Sonny filled Rico in on last night's events. “We know she's been moving art already,” he finished. “Or we thought she was. Now we know. She just changes the boat's name when she's working. So that part checks out. I don't know if I buy that she's not moving anything else. I'll have a better idea when I see this Westbrook's info.” “What does your gut tell you?” “Not a damned thing, Rico. And that's what bugs the hell out of me. With Callie it was screaming like I had an ulcer. And even Mikko didn't sit right. But Jenny? I'll be damned if I can tell.” “Let me meet her. I might be able to get something.” “That's not a bad idea. She's expecting me to reach out to some friends about this punk.” “If he's been moving dope, I can drop by as Teddy Prentiss, mon. Might not be bad to have him seen some different places.” “Thanks, Rico. I just want to sort this crap out and move on. We've got bigger things to focus on.” “And no, I haven't heard from either Hernan or Nicky since last night. Stan says there's been some talk on the Kings taps, and he thinks I'll be hearing from Hernan soon. They do want more money and Cooper's looking like a damned good cash cow to them.” “Good to know.” Sonny turned and looked out the window. “Sorry, Rico. Just getting my brain together.” “She got to you, didn't she?” “Yes, and I'll be damned if I know why.” He raised his hand. “The white horse is in back in the stable. You got my word on that. I think it's more not knowing what the hell she's up to. And the disconnect. How can she be a successful smuggler and a semi-nudist hippie at the same time?” “And why you? That's in there too, isn't it?” “Yeah. Why me? There's at least five other guys in that marina who look better than me, and of that bunch two of them are runners. Coke mostly. I don't bust 'em because they make good connections to bigger fish. But any one of them would be better-positioned to help her, and she'd know it. Hell, she'd been tying up there for over two weeks before she came after me.” “I got no answers for you, partner. But you'd better get your head back in our game. Trudy's gonna go bring Marty in later and he's gonna want the full report on last night.” “Already working on it.” Sonny tapped the side of his head. “Right up here.” “Then we're screwed. All it's gonna say is boobs, boobs, oh my God what did she just do.” “You know what, Tubbs? You're fired. Get your ass down to traffic and write some tickets.” He was still chuckling when Rico flipped him off and headed out the door. The ride in didn't leave Martin Castillo as tired this time, and he took that as a good sign. According to the doctors he was improving rapidly, though they still wouldn't sign off on full duty yet. Still, it felt good to be doing something other than sitting at home waiting for Trudy. Not for the first time he remembered the pain that came with the joy of being with someone. Mindy smiled as they came through the door. “You're looking better today, captain.” “You mean lieutenant.” “You didn't know?” Her eyes went wide. “Oh, you wouldn't. It came in after Trudy went to get you. They're promoting you.” The words took a moment to sink in, and even then Castillo didn't trust them. “That means a reassignment.” “No. The chief deputy was clear on that. You are not being moved. The promotion is in line with, and I quote him, 'the joint responsibilities of your unique task force,' And he also said it's a thank you for the Maynard/Moncado thing.” “Does anyone else know?” He looked at Trudy, extending his hand by his side and squeezing hers. He didn't care about the rank, but the additional money would be good for the pension when he finally did step away. “Uh...they might.” Mindy blushed and looked down at her notes. Trudy giggled. “Don't be mad, Marty. They'll just be happy for you.” “It's not just about me. We all did that. As a task force.” “Sure. But the leader always gets the shiny stuff first.” She kissed him on the cheek. “And it's long overdue.” Once the conference room door opened Castillo could do nothing to quiet them. Sonny led the clapping, followed by Rico. Stan hooted from the corner, and even Randy and Dave were thumping their approval on the table. Lester just grinned, tapping his cane on the side of the table in a show of support. Finally he raised his hands. “This should be for all of you,” he said, pitching his voice to both cut through theirs and quiet them just a bit. “And I want you to know we recommended all of you for promotions as well. Lester, yours might be a bit delayed because you joined us late, but Sonny and I didn't forget about you. Dave and Randy, I've got the chief deputy looking into what he can do for you two and Mindy. None of this would have happened without your work. Soon we'll have three sergeants on the task force.” He paused, then looked at his two top detectives. “And if the department can swing it, two lieutenants.” Sonny's face went white. “That's a command slot.” “Normally, yes. But this is a special circumstance. This task force has produced more results in three months than OCB did in a year at its peak. And we've done it with less money overall and far less manpower. Even with the marshals helping out. So it's earned, gentlemen. Make no mistake. And if they try to pull any of you they'll be answering to both me and Chief Deputy Washington. And his superiors.” He smiled then, a real smile that stretched muscles he didn't normally use in public. “Drinks are on me tonight at The Sanctuary. Unless something breaks with the case, of course.” It took another ten minutes, but things finally calmed down enough for the debriefing to start. Stan looked around the table. “Those mics worked pretty well. Clear, and we had good reception on the whole. I wish we could have tested the earpieces, but there're still to big to look like anything other than a hearing aid. I don't know how transmission will hold up in bad weather, and Lester and I are convinced a TV relay tower will take them down fast. But there were no comms glitches to report last night.” “It felt like a waste to just leave me in the garage all night.” Randy chuckled. “But I get it. We had no way of knowing how that meeting would play out. And I was still close enough to respond if Stan gave the word. He was my ears.” “I had eyes on them until Hernan took Sonny to the drug pickup.” Dave shook his head. “Too much shit in the way once they turned that corner. Still, I think he would have fallen back to the park if anything went south and I could cover the entire thing from there. Rico was never out of my sight.” Trudy nodded. “Mindy and I weren't much use in the car, but there wasn't a good way to put us on the street without attracting attention. It was a decent compromise.” Sonny and Rico went through their actions, and Castillo watched their faces closely. He could tell something was bothering Sonny, but that it wasn't about the operation last night. Rico seemed calm. Collected. Back to his old self, but with a hint of anger around his eyes Castillo found comforting. Tubbs was always at his best when he was nursing some of his essential anger. When they were done he sat for a moment. Sorting both their words and how they'd said them. “Do you think he'll page?” “I think one of them will. Likely Hernan. He likes Nicky about as much as we do, and I can't see him letting the little chump near their arms connection.” Rico held up his hands. “In the end your guess is as good as mine, lieutenant...I mean captain. That's gonna take some getting used to.” He smiled. “I think they will, but they might get spooked and bail.” “Do we have a back-up plan?” Sonny shook his head. “Aside from rattling Nicky's cage and seeing what falls out? Nothing aside from hoping Stan and Lester can work their magic and pull something out of thin air. We don't have any other leads in aside from Nicky and Hernan.” “What about Louis?” Trudy shook her head. “As far as we know he's small time in the Treys. They compartmentalize better than the Kings. He might know something about where the guns are coming from, but I doubt it.” “I don't like it, but I don't see a choice.” “My gut tells me Hernan's gonna call.” Rico leaned back his chair, his Armani jacket falling open and exposing the butt of the Walther at his hip. “He's got hungry eyes, and we're dangling cash in front of him. At least thirty percent and a bonus on top of that. If we're right and Doc is taking that much of the deal, they're gonna need every cent they can get.” Castillo looked up, locking eyes with everyone at the table. “Stay on it. And congratulations to everyone on their promotions. Sonny? Rico? My office.” Once the door closed, Castillo sat down with a sigh. “The doctors say I can return to full desk duty next week. Still no idea about the field. That will give us one more person working the streets, since Sonny won't be tied here. I'm also going to send Mindy out more. We need to have some kind of fix on Doc. Something more than we have now.” He looked directly at Sonny. “But I also need you fully engaged. Something's bothering you. What is it? The house?” “No. That's settled and done.” Sonny leaned back and sighed. “It's that damned woman. Jenny.” He told Castillo about the night before, leaving out none of his own suspicions and fears. “Has Trudy gotten back to you yet?” “No. She'd just submitted the query when she left to pick you up. I'm going to check with her as soon as we're done.” “Sort it out. I trust your judgement, but if it gets complicated let me know immediately. I need everyone in this now.” “Copy that, captain. I'll handle it.” “How do you feel about her, Sonny? Really.” “That's the thing, Marty. I don't know. Rico asked me earlier, and I still can't answer it. Sometimes it feels like she's playing me, but my gut says she's not. But she's not a random hot mess that washed up by my boat, either. And I know...I need to figure it out. Believe me, I'm trying.” “Keep me in the loop. I'd give you a day but we just don't have them now. I suspect the Treys are trying to buy more Ingrams. They have an edge now, and Double G isn't the kind to let that pass. The Kings will go on the offensive as soon as they make their own weapons buy, so the streets are about to get hot again. I'd like to pin this down before it gets out of control and Metro-Dade overreacts.” “You think they will?” “It's a poor neighborhood, Sonny. They'll respond with full force, destroying whatever's left there. We know what happens then.” Sonny nodded. “The cycle continues. Except this time the police will be the target instead of Columbians.” He pursed his lips, and Castillo could tell he was thinking. “Is there a way to get them focused on the Blancos and Los Tech 9s? Especially the Blancos. They're on the ropes right now.” “I'll suggest it. I don't know if they'll listen, but we can try.” Sonny was still in something close to shock when they walked back out to the conference room. Lieutenant! Who the hell would have thought that? I was happy enough to get the gold badge. The thought also sent butterflies roaming through his stomach. Once the task force was done, he'd have to move to a command position. And that was worse than death as far as he was concerned. Still... “You get anything back on that query, Sergeant Joplin?” Trudy looked up, a mischievous glitter in her eyes. “I was about to come tell you, lieutenant.” “Ahhh!! Don't call me that! Forget I said sergeant, ok, Trudy?” She laughed. “Don't get all fussy on me, Crockett. It's about time is all I can say. For both of us. Anyhow, I did get something back on that guy. He's a piece of work. A couple of assault beefs that got knocked down to lesser charges, one or two collars for pot possession, and he's pinged on the Coast Guard's list as a person of interest for narcotics trafficking. If your girl's messing with him, she's messing with fire.” “And if he's messing with Burnett?” “He wouldn't stand a chance.” She looked up at him, concern showing in her eyes now. “Does she mean that much to you, Sonny?” “You're the third person who's asked me that today, and I still don't have a good answer.” Sonny sighed. “Hell, I don't know. Physically we connect. But the rest? Hell, she's like some kind of zoned-out hippie half the time. Those funny cards, strange poems, she doesn't like clothes.” “She what now?” “I mean it, Trudy. Half the time she's naked, the other half she's about to be naked. And when she opens her mouth you never know if she's gonna start some strange hippie thing or what. But she's smuggling art, too. She's not stupid, and obviously she's good at what she does.” “Which is the opposite of what you do.” “I know. And that's part of it, too. I just don't know, Trudy. Do I have 'date me if you're crazy' stamped on my forehead?” “No. But you care, Sonny. You can't hide it. And they can tell. Trust me.” She smiled. “That's how you found Caitlin, and that's how you got the courage to turn your house into a recovery center for kids. I talked to Gina last night and she told me about that. I've never heard her so excited, except for when she told me she was moving in with Stan.” “At least Angie will have a tough partner.” Sonny smiled to ease his own doubts. “She's a tough lady, but she...” “Lacks a certain grace? She does. But God help the person who crosses her. Gina can provide the nice face and Angie can break their balls if they mess up.” “Something like that. But that doesn't help me with Jenny.” “No, but it might be a start. It's something only you can figure out, Sonny. But now you have an idea of what kind of trouble she might be facing.” “Yeah.” He smiled again. “Thanks, Trudy. Guess I've got some work to do.” Sonny shook his head and headed for the office he shared with Tubbs. With Castillo back it just felt more natural to go back to the old routine. “A lot of damned work,” he muttered as he slumped in his chair. “Boss?” Earl Lester Holmes looked up from the sports section, a scowl fixed on his face. “How the hell did the Dolphins manage to lose again? Anyhow, what the hell do you want, Benny?” “Two things. I sent Rickey and his crew to close the MAC-10 deal with the Treys. Simple cash on the table, and you said they could handle that without help.” “Just count the damned money when they get back. If it's light, shoot Rickey in the right knee. No, make that the left knee. He needs his right to drive the damned truck. Be good to get those off our hands, truth be told.” Holmes folded the paper so only the football box scores showed. “What else you got?” “The Kings called again. They got the money for the Tech 9s. Cash on the barrelhead. But they also said they got some Yankee who's wantin' to talk guns. I told 'em I'd have to check him out first. Says his name's Cooper. That's the one you mentioned, right, boss?” “It is, Benny. Glad you remembered the name.” Holmes looked across the table, box scores forgotten. “Did they want to bring him to the meet?” “I think so, boss. They didn't say it plain, but you could hear it in their damned voices.” “Two birds, one stone.” Holmes did some thinking, reaching out and finding his beer had gone warm. “Grab me a cold one, would you? I can't think with this warm piss on my tongue.” He waited until Benny came back from the bar and took a good, long drink. The cold Bud ran down his throat and got his thoughts moving again. “That's a damned sight better. Look, Benny. That plan from before? It's still good. When you meet with them, having the boys hidin' in the barn with that surprise we talked about. Odds are you won't need it. They want their Tech 9s too Goddamned bad. But there's one change. I'm going with you.” “Boss?” He saw the hurt in the man's slow eyes. “Benny, I ain't that I don't trust you. I do trust you. But I want to see this Cooper with my own eyes. And if he's one of those Federals, I want to see him die with my own eyes. You can bet if he's there Burnett will show up, too. Same goes for him. I got a vague memory of him runnin' with that limp-dick Kern a few years back, but that ain't neither here nor there. A lot can change in a man, and he's been keepin' some questionable company. But from what I hear he gets the job done, and if he keeps workin' with Cooper that says something. Or they're both Federals, in which case we make the word a better place and blow them out of it.” “I gotcha boss. Good plan.” Benny smiled, his ego soothed for now. “You want me to warn the boys?” “Yeah, but don't move a thing until you hear back from those damned wetbacks.” Holmes looked down, remembering the paper and the five large he had on the Pittsburgh game. Only a moron bet for the Dolphins these days. “Either we're gonna make us some new rich friends or we'll get to shoot us some Federals. Either way it'll be a good day.” Carlos was out on the restaurant floor when Leo came in, and he waved his right hand to the back office. “Tell me you got good news.” “The Treys just closed on the MAC-10s. They're ready to rock and roll.” Leo shook his head. “The Kings say they're getting close to closing on theirs. That deal last night went down without a hitch. Although I did hear from a little bird that Hernan might be cutting them in on the arms deal. Introducing Cooper to that redneck son of a bitch.” “So he's getting greedy.” Doc shook his head, looking at the sun slanting through partly-closed window blinds. “I always knew he was an idiot.” “I'd say so.” “This little bird wouldn't happen to be named Nicky, would it?” “No. His muscle. Big idiot named Jimmy.” Leo chuckled. “I'm banging his girl and he's none the wiser. But he likes to brag to her, and she talks to me. This Cooper made noise about needing guns and a finder's fee and Hernan jumped all over it like a stay dog on raw meat.” “Have they met yet?” “She didn't think so. The Kings had to arrange it.” “First he runs his mouth to his cousin, and now this.” Carlos looked down, thinking back to another man who'd gotten greedy. And the one before him. “I think another message needs to be sent. Are you up for it?” “Hell yes. I never liked Hernan anyhow.” Leo looked across the desk. “When do you want it done?” “How soon will you know if they've set up a meet with Holmes?” “Hard to say. Likely within an hour of the call. Not before you know, though.” Carlos smiled. He did have communication with Holmes from time to time, but not about things like this. “Does Hernan go to these meetings?” “He hasn't before. He might go with Cooper, though.” “Not this time. Have Louis call him with an excuse. Send a hooker after him. Anything to get him to stay behind. Once they're committed to the meeting, send the message. Same as before.” “Consider it done, boss. You think the Kings will kick?” “If they have their Tech 9s I don't think they'll notice. Hernan was on his way out, and if they find out he has ties to Louis they'll be quick to disavow him.” Leo nodded. “I'll get it done, Doc.” He laughed on his way out the door. “Maybe the Kings will send Nicky and his pet ape and tie that off for us, too. I can't see those two getting close to that crew of rednecks without pissing one of them off and getting shot. Or maybe Burnett will do us the favor.” Left with his own thoughts, Carlos tried to think a few moves ahead. The Kings were almost fatally weakened now, even with Tech 9s. Their rank and file were in disarray, their dealers scattered or jumping ship to the Treys or anyone else who both supply and protect them. And that meant it was time for him to move away from them as well, no matter the outcome of their fight with the Columbians. Maybe it was time to start gathering intel on this Teddy Prentiss. Another dealer, especially one far from his base of operations, was never a bad thing. Especially a dealer who understood and was content with his place in the food chain. But this wasn't a job for Leo. Leo was his blunt instrument, the man he used to send messages and keep order. This was more for Juan. Where Leo was blunt, Juan was low-key. He had contacts ranging through many neighborhoods in Miami, reaching into places Leo couldn't go because of his reputation or skin color. Juan's mother had been black, so he could pass in any of the neighborhoods with meaning to Carlos. Reaching out, he picked up the field phone. “I need a full workup on Teddy Prentiss. Might be Jamaican. I know he's dealt in pot before. As soon as you can.” She was waiting for him when he got back to the marina to change before meeting the rest of the task force at The Sanctuary, but on Vellamo instead of inviting herself on board his boat. That, Sonny decided as he acknowledged her wave, was progress of a sort. At least for today. “I wasn't sure if I'd see you,” she said, that same white shirt unbottoned and draping down from her shoulders. He could see bikini bottoms, but the dark circles showing through told him all he needed to know about the top. “I just...” “It's ok, darlin'.” He took her in his arms just to keep the shirt on for now. No reason to give the old guy down in slip 17 another heart attack. “Let's go below and I'll tell you what I found out. I can't stay long. Got a business thing in a bit over an hour. But you need to know.” She listened as he spun what he'd learned from Trudy, nodding from time to time. “None of that surprises me. He could be rough...mean when he felt like it. With no warning. And his friends...I never liked any them. I really thought I'd gotten away from him when I bought Vellamo and left Lauderdale.” “So why keep running? You're in the same line of work. Sooner or later you had to know you'd run into him again.” “I wasn't thinking that far ahead.” She giggled and looked away. “That's always been one of my problems, at least if you ask my father. Anyhow, it's what I know and some of the people are really kind. I just thought, or hoped, he'd stick to drugs and stay out of my trade.” “If he was looking for you he'd know exactly where to go.” “I know. Well, now I know.” She smiled and then looked up at him. “I can be really silly sometimes, you know.” “Really?” “Don't make fun, Sonny. Look...I don't know what you do and I don't want to know. Really. If you can't help, that's fine. Just say so and I can move on someplace else.” She let the shirt fall open. “But I don't want to. That's the problem. Usually I just weigh anchor and sail away. But I don't want to sail away now.” “What do you want, Jenny? I mean, really? I can get this guy off your back, but what after that?” “Does it have to be so complicated?” “Yes.” He let his voice be Burnett hard for a second. “Sometimes it does. My life is complicated, Jenny. I can't get around that. I wish it could be simple, but it's not. Like I said, I can make Donnie go away. That's the simple part. The hard part is what comes after that.” She sighed and rested her head in his lap. “Why can't it just be like this?” “Because it's not real, darlin'. There's what comes after. I've tried getting away from that, and you can't do it.” She was quiet for a time, and for a moment he thought she was falling asleep. Then she stirred. “What do you want to know?” “About what?” “About me.” “Can you stop smuggling?” “Yes.” Her voice was small. “It meant the world to me once, but it doesn't now.” “Are you sure?” “Yes. I know I can.” Her fingers fumbled with his slacks. “For you I can.” “But can you stay done with it?” “Yes. I don't need the money, Sonny.” Her fingers reached their goal. “It's never been about the money.” “Why me? What drew you to me? There's at least five other guys in the marina who look better.” “Because.” She was quiet for a time. “Because we are meant for each other. I knew it the first time I saw you. I had to be sure, so I waited. I saw those other men. They didn't do a thing for me. Then I was sure.” Part of him wanted to get up and leave right then, slacks be damned. But there was another part that kept whispering she was right. He tried to fight it, to chalk it down to what she was doing right now and nothing more. But he couldn't. It was the same kind of thing he'd felt when he met Caitlin. A pull. Something he couldn't put into words but was as real as a slug from his .45 and just as powerful. Then just as suddenly as she'd started, she stopped. “You'd better get ready for that business thing.” She smiled up at him. “I'll be waiting for you when you're done. Don't drink too much.” She licked her lips, and her eyes glittered with a light he hadn't seen there before. “You know I'm right, don't you? About us?” “Yes.” The word jumped out before he could stop it, but he knew there was no point. “I do. I'll see you tonight, Jenny. And then it's your turn.” Sonny found the rest of the task force at their usual table in the back, and resigned himself to not only buying a round but being the butt of every bad joke for at least ten minutes. He was surprised to see Robbie at the table, and even more when he saw the bright eyes and dark hair of Julia. “We managed to con her mother into babysitting,” Robbie explained with a grin when he saw Sonny's expression. “We don't get out as much as we should and she wanted to see you.” “Julia! Lovely as ever. I'm surprised you keep putting up with this bozo.” Julia smiled, and Sonny had a good idea what was coming next. “I'm surprised he keeps putting up with me. And how did you sneak away from your blonde mermaid?” Rico shrugged. “What can I say? She threatened me.” Castillo looked...happy. It almost floored Sonny to see so much joy on Marty's face. “We saved you a seat,” he announced, pointing to a spot next to Dave. “We figured you'd be safer next to Dave.” “About time you got here, Crockett.” Gina stuck her head around Stan's big shoulders and waved. “I need another drink. And you big spenders are buying for the poor sergeants tonight.” Then her tone softened. “I'm glad you had Angie call me. We talked for over an hour. I've already got some candidates for her.” “Good. Now if we can just get the poor girl over here the next two rounds are on me.” Julia frowned. “If you think any of you are paying for anything tonight...” “Call it a tip, then. We'll be working those poor girls hard, Julia.” “Sounds fair to me.” Julia laughed and kissed Robbie on the cheek. “We should have done this weeks ago, Robbie.” Castillo shot Tubbs a meaningful stare. “Don't forget that pager.” “I won't. It's right here. And I'm sticking with beer tonight, captain. Just in case one of those little chumps pages.” “And I've got to, too. The mermaid's orders.” Robbie looked over at him. “You get that one figured out yet?” “Maybe. I don't know for sure. But maybe.” Sonny gave a weak smile. “Let me guess. You were made for each other.” “How the hell...” “You got that look on your face, man. Same one I saw you with outside that strip club at Camp Lejune.” Sonny shot a look at Julia, who was laughing with Mindy about something. “Be very glad she's here, buddy.” “Oh, I am.” Robbie laughed. “Trust me. I am. But that's what she said, right?” “More or less.” “Ya gotta be careful with that one. I heard it before, too. Only the last time was from Julia. The time that mattered.” He raised his glass. “Sometimes it's a false alarm and other times it's true. You just gotta figure out which one this is.” Sonny raised his beer bottle. “Amen to that.” He nodded toward Castillo and Trudy. “Like those two.” “Man, I don't even try to figure that one out. Stan and Gina, sure. Two good people who finally found each other. But those two? Shit. It's above my pay grade.” “Mine, too. Never seen anything like it.” Robbie nodded. “I think we should be glad we did, though.” “I think you're right.” Sonny was starting to enjoy the way the beer felt on his tongue. Not sharp like bourbon and more gentle in its warming. Two more and he'd be good to go, so long as some food appeared. A burst of noise from across the table got his attention. Gina started squealing, nodding and then crying. Trudy was hugging her, and Stan looked like he'd been caught with his hand the cookie jar. Or... “Stan! You sly dog!” Sonny raised his bottle and laughed. “Congratulations, both of you!” Rico looked up. “What the hell did I just miss?” “Unless I miss my guess, and I've been through it twice, Stan just proposed and Gina said yes.” All Stan could do was nod. Lester slapped him on the back, not caring that bits of his cast were flaking off on the table. Gina and Trudy were still hugging, joined by Julia and Mindy in a sort of strange girl huddle. Randy and Dave shook their heads, motioning for more drinks at almost the same instant. And Robbie...all Robbie could do was look at Sonny and laugh. “Looks like I got another damned party to plan for.” He turned when a nearby customer grumbled. “Complain all you want. It's my damned club.” Sonny recognized the mood. “I got this, Robbie. Stan looks like he could use another drink, though.” Once Robbie was distracted, he turned to the grumbling man and turned on his full Burnett ice-cold stare. “You don't want to make this worse.” The man, bulky from too much time at the gym and not enough oxygen to his brain, started to move and then stopped. Seeing the finality in Sonny's eyes. “No, man. Like he said, it's his club. I'm cool. It's cool.” “Good choice. Now go be cool somewhere else.” Sonny held his look until the man stepped back almost twenty feet. Then he turned back to the table. Better me than Marty he reasoned, lifting his beer to join in one of the toasts going around the table. Hell, better me than anyone else here. That guy would be so pulped they'd have to bury him in a Baggie and there'd be room to spare. It was almost midnight before he could pry himself away from the table. The punk was long gone, and Robbie and Julia had headed out a few minutes before. “The mother-in-law's only cooperative for so long,” Robbie announced with a grin. “Best wishes, you two.” Then he turned to Sonny, clapping an arm around his shoulder. “Figure your lady out, Sonny. And if it's real, I want to be there this time.” “You will if it's real, Robbie. That's a promise.” Sonny watched his friends go, then finished his beer and caught Castillo's attention across the table. “Marty, I...” “Do what you have to do. I've got this.” Castillo smiled, raising his club soda. “Doctors won't let me drink, but they can't stop me from having fun.” Before he left, Sonny made sure to lean across to Gina. She was still beaming and crying from too much joy and likely too many margaritas. “Gina, I want to wish you and Stan the absolute best. You're both great people and really deserve each other.” “Thanks, Sonny.” She smiled, and tears started flowing again. “That means so much coming from you.” He smiled, not sure if she was making fun or not. Hell, she's too blasted to know if she's making fun or not. Stan just beamed and nodded, raising his own bottle in silent salute. They were close enough now no words were needed, a far cry from where they'd been when he left OCB after Costa Morada. He turned to say goodby to Rico, but saw him deep in conversation with Mindy. Catching Randy's eye, he shrugged and flashed a thumb's up. Randy nodded, winking. “Marty and I'll make sure they get home, boss. Even Dave.” He looked over at the sniper, who was busy building a pyramid with empty old fashioned glasses and explaining to a waitress why it was an exact replica of King Tut's tomb. Sonny saw Debbie on the way out and smiled an apology. “If they get to be too much, just let Marty or Randy know. They'll move 'em out.” Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out three one hundred dollar bills. “I know Robbie said the drinks were covered, but consider this our tip. Sorry about the mess.” “You guys are fine. At least no one's grabbing our asses or being total jerks.” She smiled. “That Dave's actually really sweet.” Sonny filed the comment away for later. He smiled again and heading out into the cooling evening. And only then did it really hit him. Stan and Gina were getting married. The drive back to the marina was filled with so many conflicting thoughts Sonny could barely focus on the road. He and Gina had their time, of course, but those days were long gone. He'd moved on at least a year before she finally realized it, and of course there was Caitlin putting a period on the whole thing. His relationship with Stan had always been complicated, made worse by his own behavior leading up to the murder of Larry and his whole obsessive slide into what became the Burnett affair. Still, he'd always known Stan had a big heart, and he couldn't think of anyone he'd rather see Gina with. The big guy was many things, but he'd never hurt her and he'd support her in anything she decided to do with her life. He knew he could never have said the same. The marina lot was dark, and no one was out when he parked the Ferrari and started the walk down the dock. A lone candle flickered in one of the saloon ports on Vellamo, where he knew she was waiting. Robbie's words kept echoing in his mind as he walked, feeling the cooling breeze lift under his blazer. But how the hell do you know it's true before it's too late to run if it's not? He'd always had trouble with that part. She was sitting at the table belowdeck, a light blue silk shirt thrown over her shoulders. “Did you have a good time?” There was no resentment in her voice, which surprised him. She genuinely wanted to know. It reminded him of Caitlin. Caroline would have had the sarcasm dripping from the ceiling by now. “Yeah, I actually did. You know how work things are. At least no one started a fight, and we even had some good news come out of it.” He sat down on the settee, feeling relaxed and not on edge from the beer. “It was nice for me, too. It gave me time to think.” She turned to him and smiled, touching his shoulder with her long fingers. “About lots of things. Some simple, and some complicated.” He nodded, enjoying the way the silk slid across her shoulders and chest. Almost like water flowing back and forth over polished tan stones. “Make sense of any of it?” “I think so.” Her eyes were fixed on his face, and he felt like she was trying to memorize every line, every contour. “I know I don't want to leave here. Or to leave you. And if that means stopping my business, I will.” “It has to. What you do and what I do don't mix.” He smiled, leaning down and kissing her. “I wish there was another way...” “If there's not, there's not. It's just things. One thing I learned doing that is things are easy to come by. People aren't. I used to think it was the other way. Maybe I hadn't met the right people. Or person.” “I can get rid of Westbrook for you. It'll take a few days, but it can happen. I'll need to know about his routes, his patterns. Little thing you know that no one else might.” “That's for later.” She kept staring into his eyes, almost like she was afraid he'd disappear if she blinked. “What I need to know is if I made the right decision.” “Yes.” His answer surprised him, but it also didn't. “I can't give up what I do, Jenny. It's part of me. For too long it's been all I had.” He thought of Trudy and Castillo and shook his head. “No, I can't say that. I can step back from it, but it will take time.” “I know. You have to be moving, Sonny. Always moving. You showed me how complex can become simple. I can show you how to slow down. We can learn together.” She let the shirt slide off her shoulders. “I'm sorry...I thought I'd be better at this. It's all new to me.” “It's ok, darlin'. Love is simple and complex at the same time. I've...” His voice trailed off. “I've been down that road a few times.” “She was beautiful. I saw the picture on your boat. And the ring. I...” “It's ok.” He was repeating himself, but he didn't care. “You can ask. She was killed. It's been a few years now. After that, I never though I'd feel it again.” “What?” “What I feel right now.” Leaning forward, he took her in his arms and kissed her. She responded with a passion that found echo in his own, growing and building as they touched. Later neither of them could remember who'd said 'I love you' first or when, but they knew it was that night.

Had a productive writing weekend, so I figured I'd post two parts. Might be a lag after this. Who knows? Lester was off his crutches now, but Stan still had him working the Roach Coach so he didn't hurt himself or throw his rehab off track. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for his partner not being ready for full duty on schedule. He'd vowed never to let the team down, and Stan aimed to keep his word. Remembering advice from Tubbs, he moved the Roach Coach again. They'd been drinking beers one night soon after he and Crockett had come back to Miami, and Rico got started talking about days in Bronx Armed Robbery. “We always knew the getaway cars because they'd have these piles of cigarette butts on the street by the driver's window. Also they'd run the A/C in the summer, and you'd get a puddle of condensation under the car. You could always tell how long it had been sitting there by the size of the lake under the engine.” Ever since that night Stan had made it a point to move first the Bug Van and now the Roach Coach every fifteen minutes or so. Just enough to keep a lake from forming. Lester sat in the back, headphones clamped over his ears as he rotated through the taps on the Kings' main phone lines. Unlike the Treys they liked to use the phones in businesses and bars they controlled, so they were easy to track. Stan was about to make a wiseass comment when Lester's hand shot up. “I got Hernan!” he said in a voice too loud for the van. “Move one of those damned things and tell me what you got.” Stan ducked back into the rear compartment and slipped on the second set of headphones. “It's Hernan all right,” he muttered. “I'd know that cheesy Desi Arnez sound-alike anywhere.” He took his voice up an octave. “Hey Nickee! I'm home!” “Can it, Stan. He's calling a number over in Treys territory.” “You don't say? Roll tape, my good man.” “Already rolling, herr director. And this ain't no ten second call.” “No it's not, Lester my good man. He's in this one for the long haul.” Stan focused, trying to remember enough of his Spanish to puzzle out what they were saying. “Sounds to me like he's giving up the heroin deal.” “Or parts of it. Sounds more like he's saying screw you vatos. We get it all this month.” Lester turned to Stan and shrugged. “Why would he do that? He got a death wish?” “Maybe he just wants to yank his cousin's chain. I think that's who he called.” Stan looked at the readout. “Yep. Confirmed. But why rattle cousin Louis' cage? Especially now? Keep an eye on Louis' number. I want to know if he calls anyone as soon as Hernan gets off the damned line.” Climbing back into the driver's seat, Stan put the Roach Coach into gear and crawled down the street. He was in no hurry, and he didn't want to disturb Lester's reception in any case. He watched the empty sidewalks, not surprised no one was out in the heat of the late afternoon but still wary about bright flashes from garages and sheds. He still snapped awake some nights, hearing the screech of the LAW as it flashed across the alley and slammed into the Bug Van. But what he couldn't puzzle out was why Hernan would pull such a bone-headed stunt? Why call your damned cousin, who runs with another gang, and brag about something your bunch hadn't even done yet? Maybe there was bad blood between the two the task force didn't know about; in spite of their efforts they still didn't know much about the Dominicans once you got past the surface. Only Tubbs had dealt with them before. Still, he figured Sonny needed to know. Reaching down, he picked up the van's phone and dialed. “Sonny? Yeah, it's Elvis. Look, Hernan just called his cousin in the Treys and shook that deal in front of his face like a stripper's tits on lap dance night. No, I don't know about that any more. I just heard it's what your mom does with her weekday nights. Anyhow, we're rolling tape now. Figured you'd want a heads-up. Yeah, you'll have it when we roll in. Should be another hour unless you need us sooner. Ok, see you then.” He hung up, still smiling about the mom crack. It was something he wouldn't have done two months ago because it would have required talking to Crockett. But that was behind them now, and he really felt he could trust Sonny both as a boss and a friend. It felt good, and had been a long time coming. “Got it.” Lester looked up and lowered his voice as soon as he slipped one earphone off. “They're done pissing on each other and it doesn't sound like Louis is gonna let anyone else in on the joke. At least over the phone.” “Which is normal for that paranoid bunch. I wonder if they use carrier pigeons?” “Don't give them ideas, Stan. Just don't.” “Ok, Lester. I won't. And we're gonna head back here in a bit. Just warning you because reception always flakes out around that Channel Six relay tower.” “Yeah. I'd take it out, but they have that one hot weather girl.” “The blonde with the legs that don't quit? Yeah, I can see sparing the tower for her sake.” Stan grinned as he made a turn. That was the kind of thing Larry used to say. It was just like old times. Sonny hung up the phone and looked at Castillo and Rico. “That was Stan. Hernan blew the whole deal to his cousin Louis.” He shook his head. “Dumb ass. What the hell was he thinking?” “Bragging.” Rico's voice was firm. “Showing his cousin he's a bigger man and can make bigger deals. I doubt his cousin even believes it.” Castillo looked at Tubbs. “Are you sure?” “I met with these cats a few times back in the day, lieutenant. They love puffing up like peacocks. It was all display. Who had more gold on? Who brought the hottest chica to the meeting? Who had the most tricked-out El Camino or old Ford? And half of 'em were wearing fake gold, rented the girl, or borrowed someone else's car. Hell, it was almost expected. Louis most likely thinks he's blowing smoke.” “But these aren't normal times.” Castillo locked eyes with both men. Sonny shook his head. “We'll go through with the meet as planned. We'll have Randy and Dave close by, Dave on overwatch no less. If Louis or the Treys try anything he'll sniff it out. I'm sure of that.” “He's right, lieutenant. We can't let this chance slip by. Doc's only gonna stick his head up once, and then he's gone again. Maybe for good.” Sonny leaned forward. “It's my call, Marty. It's operational, and I think it's worth the risk. I'll be out there leading the way, and if it goes south it's on my head. No one else's.” “I wasn't disagreeing with the decision. Just pointing out possible consequences.” “I...” “It's fine, Sonny. You did what you're supposed to do. And for the right reasons. We can't afford to let Doc go back in his hole. It's a risk, but it's one that's worth running.” Castillo leaned back, and they could see the tiredness in his face. “Sit down with Dave and Randy and plan everything as much as you can. Also check with Switek. He might have some new communication gear that could help. We got some more stuff from the marshals today and one of the boxes was for him.” He paused. “And Dave and Randy got the M-21s. That's where they are now. On the range shooting them in.” “Solid.” Tubbs smiled wide. “If this was OCB, we'd still be filling out forms to replace the forms they lost from the second request we did for things we needed last week.” “We succeed. That's what happens when we succeed. If we fail, they will all disappear.” “Then we can't fail.” Sonny's voice was firm. “It just can't be an option. Unless it's imposed on us from above.” “Amen to that.” Rico looked out the window and whistled. “Damn. Day's almost gone now.” “I'll be leaving as soon as Trudy and Mindy are done working on that new intel. I can listen to the tape when Stan and Lester get here. Make sure there's nothing hidden in the Spanish. They're both good, but they aren't fluent. Why don't you two go home? Get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a hot one.” “In more ways than one.” Sonny grinned and pushed himself out of the chair. “Why don't you take this back, Marty? I'll run operations out of my office with Rico. It just feels...better that way.” They were on their way down to the garage when Rico spoke. “He's looking better every day.” “Yeah. He's healing damned fast. But he's got something besides duty to live for now. Makes all the difference.” “Yeah. I guess it does.” Rico watched the indicator flash as the elevator passed other floors on the way down. “You going out tonight?” “Naw. I'm gonna risk the boat. That suite Burnett has is nice, but I sleep better on that damned boat with Elvis dragging his chain around above me.” “What about Jenny?” Rico shook his head. “And I still haven't heard anything you don't already know. If she's really dirty, she's also really good at hiding it.” “Yeah. She wants to talk.” He felt the note still in his blazer pocket. Rico whistled. “Talk? Isn't that the one thing she ain't good at?” “I don't know. She almost never does it.” Sonny sighed, feeling the weight of the paper and what it could mean. “But there's almost no chance it's good. She's been acting weird the last few times I've seen her. Weird even for her.” “Now that is not good. You want some company? An awkward wingman?” Sonny laughed as the doors opened. “No, this is something I gotta do, Rico. If she's even there. That boat's only been gone a couple of days, and the last few trips of hers have been damned near a week.” The relief Sonny felt when he pulled into the marina lot and saw her slip empty was almost a physical thing, and he sat in the Ferrari for a minute listening to the ticking of the cooling engine and feeling the heat overwhelm the last of the air conditioning. What the hell, man? he chided himself as he got out of the car and trudged down the dock toward the Dance. She's just a girl. It's not like I was about to be jumped by ten Columbian hitmen or anything. But he knew in some ways this was worse. He was starting to care about her. He tossed Elvis a tuna by way of greeting, and watched as the gator lumbered the two feet to get his dinner and crunched down with evident delight. “Wonder how much longer you go, you old suitcase?” he muttered, reminding himself it was time to hose down both Elvis and his lair in the bow. Maybe it was time to think about putting the big guy out to pasture at a wildlife sanctuary or something. Shaking his head, Sonny went below. “First a beer, then gator shit,” he proclaimed, not caring if Elvis noticed or not. The pre-meeting briefing kicked off at three, to allow time for Dave to find a good overwatch position and settle in long before any of the players came in stage. The two snipers always insisted on it, and Sonny had adopted the measure as good planning. Even if they weren't using overwatch, it was better to have everything worked out with time to spare when they could. He was on his way through the outer office when Stan came out and stopped him. “Sonny? You got a second?” “What?” He saw a quick flash in pain in Stan's eyes and realized his voice had been sharper than he'd intended. “Sorry, Stan. I was being an ass. What's up, big guy?” “Gina got a call from that Angie yesterday. She wanted me to thank you.” “You tell her to watch out for Angie. That's one big and determined lady. She'll run you right over you give her half a chance.” “Yeah. I remember her from the wedding.” Stan shifted from one foot to the other. “But this is something Gina's been complaining about for weeks. Quite a few of the girls they work with are under eighteen, and there's no place they can go. Some of the boys, too. She knows people, but the space has never been there. Until now. She just wanted me to thank you for her.” He paused. “I know this can't have been easy for you.” “It wasn't until I started thinking about it. It's something Caitlin would have wanted. Might have done if...if things turned out differently.” “Yeah.” He started to turn. “I just wanted to say thanks.” “Wait.” Sonny wasn't sure quite what to say, but pushed on. It had been eating at him for weeks and it was time to just get it off his chest. “I'm the one who should be thanking you, Stan.” “Why?” “For giving me a second chance. After Larry and all the shit I pulled. I”m the one who should be thanking you.” Stan looked at him for a moment, and then retreated into the sharp humor Sonny knew he used as his first line of defense. “Who are you and what have you done with Sonny Crockett?” “Maybe I just grew up a bit. Hell, I don't know. Or too many blows to the head.” He gave Stan a lopsided grin. “There was that explosion a couple of years back and all...” “Thanks, Sonny. And for what it's worth, I'm glad I did.” Castillo sat at the head of the table, and Crockett took his usual place with an almost audible sigh of relief. He didn't mind running the operational side of the task force, but it felt good to have dad back in his rightful place at the head of the table. Keeping everything on track. Dave and Randy were in their usual spots, and Mindy and Trudy looked to be going over more intelligence reports. Lester, sporting a cane now instead of crutches, had a fresh stack of surveillance logs, and Tubbs was regaling the table with some tale about the exploits of Teddy Prentiss. Castillo quieted the table with a look. “Let's get started. Crockett?” “The meet's still on for 2200. Unless there's been any changes?” Tubbs shook his head. “Good. But stay flexible. Nicky could call and change things at any time. I don't think the little grease stain's that smart, but Hernan might be. My only worry is that they'll change the location. We lose Dave if it's outside his overwatch arc.” “Do we scrub the meet if they change locations?” Sonny looked at Castillo. “No. Not unless they demand a big move.” “You heard the man. If it's a few blocks one way or the other, we stick with it. Across town? We pull. They need us more than we need them, at least that's how they'll see it. So we have some leverage.” “And I'll use every ounce of it.” Rico grinned. “No way some two-bit chump like Nicky is gonna push Rico Cooper around.” Dave cleared his throat. “I've got my hide picked out. Old office building about a block over from the park. It's six stories, so I've got visuals on the entire area. That M-21's ready to go, and I'm ranged to six hundred yards. Anything they try, they're mine.” Lester piped in. “The marshal's office sent us some new communication gear. Hands free mics and earpieces. I don't think we can use the earpieces tonight. They're a bit too obvious. But the mics will let us and Dave listen in on the meeting. You guys can use a code for extraction if it gets too hot.” Sonny looked at Trudy and Mindy. “Any new and breaking intel?” “It's been quiet over in Treys turf since last night.” Trudy smiled. “But in Kings-land it's a different story. They've been calling in the troops all day. Lots of chatter about new guns coming in soon, but no real date or time.” She paused. “I think they might be trying to build morale before they close their arms deal with whoever's doing the selling. There's still no chatter about that.” Mindy took over. “And nothing from Hernan since he went bragging to Louis. We haven't seen any sign Louis reported that talk up his chain, but I don't know that we'd pick up much given the Treys' communications discipline.” Stan flipped through his notes. “We did a couple of drive-bys with the Roach Coach and dipped into their hand-held frequencies. Mostly routine stuff, although one or two of the boys did mention something about more Ingrams coming in tomorrow.” “So the basic plan's still solid.” Sonny took control again with practiced ease. “Rico and I will park in the Venice Ballroom lot at around 2145 and walk to the park. That will let Dave get eyes on us and sweep the way in and out. Stan, you and Lester need to have the Roach Coach within a couple of blocks in case you have to relay the transmissions from those mics. You know the system capabilities, so you pick your spot. Just be sure it's someplace you can move from at short notice. Trudy, Mindy. This is a low-hooker zone so we'll have to think of something else to get you close enough to assist if needed.” “What about the Venice Ballroom entry rope? That place always has a line going almost around the block.” “Risky. If this takes too long or they're late you might actually get inside. And if you just hang out their security might run you off as working girls.” Sonny turned the problem over in his head. “We might just have to put you two in a car and hope for the best.” “How controlled is the Venice Ballroom lot?” Mindy looked at the surveillance photos. “We could just hang out toward the back. It's got two exits and good street access.” “As far as we know it's not controlled at all.” Sonny nodded. “Good idea. Try it on for size. If you have to relocate, go for it.” He looked down the table. “Randy, you're in the parking garage three blocks over with the cash. We could put Mindy and Trudy in there, too, but I'd rather have you separated. Just in case Hernan's smarter than he looks.” Castillo spoke, his voice soft. “And we can't forget about Doc. It's his Red Cross product, so he might have eyes of his own on the situation. He knows how cops operate, so we have to be different.” Sonny nodded. “The lieutenant's right. Cops would all be waiting in the garage. That's why we don't do that. We need to be close enough to support each other, but far enough apart that it doesn't look like that's what we're doing. We'll call from the Caddy phone when it's time to move the cash. Stan, you guys might need to pick up Dave if we displace. I think there's a sold chance Hernan will want to do the deal someplace other than the park.” “You think they'd do that?” “No, Mindy. I think Hernan might. Nicky's not smart enough. I know he just said they'd call for the product, but it takes time to get there. Hernan might not be comfortable standing in a park looking like he's turning tricks or whatever.” Sonny grinned. “So we have a plan ready just in case. If we move, run loose tails. You'll be able to hear unless something goes wrong with the mics. New stuff is always finicky.” Stan nodded. “We haven't had a chance to test the little gizmos yet. I know what they should do, but not what they really can do.” “So be sure at least one of you has us in sight at all times. Use radios and keep transmissions short.” He turned and looked at Castillo. “What did I miss, Marty?” “Nothing. Excellent plan. But remember this: once the operation starts the plan is just a guide. Things change. Remain fluid. We need to react quickly.” He looked down the table at Rico. “How are you going to play the guns?” “Hard if I get the opportunity.” Rico smiled. “Cooper would be looking to score more weapons for the boys up north. And if I dangle a big enough finder's fee in front of his face, I think Hernan will bite.” “Don't forget he's only mid-level in the Kings. Edmundo Salazar is the one who would ultimately make the call.” “Then I'll lean on him to put me in touch with his boss to make it happen. It's the Kings who need cash.” Sonny nodded. “We'll push as far as seems warranted in the situation, lieutenant. But at the very least we'll try to keep Hernan open to more contact.” He turned back to the map. “I expect Nicky will bring a goon with him. Burnett scares the piss out of him, so he'd want someone to hold his hand. Also, he's pretending to be a big shot. Hernan I don't know. Rico?” “The Dominicans like to show how tough they are. For him to bring someone would be admitting weakness.” Rico smiled. “I think he'll come alone. He'd make fun of Nicky for wanting a bodyguard, but I think he'd let the chump bring someone. It's easier to have security when you can blame it on someone else.” Sonny looked around the table. “Anything else? Good. Showtime in seven hours. Gives Dave time to get into position. Smoke 'em if you got 'em and run through those equipment checks. Especially comms. Stan, can you and Lester give Rico and I a crash-course in those little toys of yours? I at least want to make sure I don't sit on mine and break it.” Dave left an hour later, and soon after Sonny signed for the buy money, taking it from a thickset deputy marshal wearing wraparound sunglasses and an expression that said he took shit from no one. He handed the case to Randy. “All yours until the exchange. You ready in case some wino wanders by?” “Cocked and locked, boss. With two extra mags and a sawed off double barrel on the passenger seat to keep me company.” Rico grinned. “I used to pack one of those. Did I ever tell you about those chumps I made wet their pants back in New York City?” “Only the last three times we were at Robbie's.” Randy chuckled. “Tell you what, though. After we're done tonight I'll buy you a drink there and you can tell me about it again.” “Sold!” Rico laughed and slapped Randy on the shoulder. “If you two girls are done petting, Lester and I have business.” Stan held up two watches. “Yeah, I know. They aren't made by Rolex and didn't come off the wrist of some dead, deposed dictator. But they've got the mics in them and still work like normal watches. I told their tech services folks we need something flashier in our line of work and they said they'd work something up, but for tonight this is what we have.” Sonny chuckled as Rico grumbled and slipped off his Rolex. “This better go with my damned suit, Switek. I got an image to maintain.” “So tell him your old watch got repo'd while you were getting the cash together for the deal.” Stan chuckled. “You push here to turn them on. They're voice-activated, and the battery's good for about two hours, which should be enough for tonight. It beeps like a normal watch alarm when you've got thirty minutes left, so plan accordingly and cuss about your lady setting the alarm and not telling you when you turn it off.” Sonny laughed. “You put some thought into this, Stan.” “Someone had to.” Stan chuckled. “Actually the alarm bit was Lester's idea. Blame it on the lady, you can distract 'em with some story about said lady and they'll forget about the alarm. At least that's the plan.” His voice got serious again. “They can pick up conversation within about ten feet, which is all we need. Transmission range you don't need to worry about. We'll keep the Roach Coach in range and bounce the feed to the cars and Dave.” “Good work, guys. You get first pick of the donuts tomorrow morning.” Sonny slid the watch over his hand and clipped it on. It actually looked and felt almost exactly like the Seiko he'd worn in Vietnam, which stirred up more memories than he thought it would. “This will work just fine.” Rico looked down at his, which resembled a high-end Timex more than anything. “It'll do. Still not in my style code.” “What can I say? The marshals don't usually work with Rolexes.” Sonny turned toward the armory. “I'm gonna give the guns a once-over. This should be a simple meet, but like Marty said you never know. And if Doc's watching, we have to be ready.” The Caddy's yellow headlights guided them through the Miami streets, paving the way to the Venice Ballroom. Sonny looked over at Rico, seeing the determination frozen on his partner's face. The man he'd been drinking with at Robbie's not too long ago was gone, replaced by someone grim...someone he wasn't sure he fully recognized. Of course, he'd been the same way after Caitlin was murdered. Worse, probably. He trusted Rico to get through whatever he needed to get through and do the Job. After all, it was all they both had left. The line at Venice Beach's door did wrap around the corner, confirming to Sonny once again that all you had to do was put up a big neon sign and people would show up like moths to a bug zapper. “Give 'me bright lights and a cute name and they'll turn out in droves,” he muttered as Rico slid the big car into a spot near the back of the lot. “Ain't that the truth, partner.” Rico grinned as he shut off the car, the ticking of the engine loud in the sudden silence. “I hear the place ain't even that good. Toilets always backin' up, bartenders pouring weak drinks. You name it. But they got a cool dance floor, so...” “So the idiots keep comin' and giving us business. I'll be the coke spilled on the floor in the ladies' room in one night is more than our take-home in two weeks.” “Probably more judging from the hotties waiting to get in.” Rico jerked his chin in the direction of a pair of blondes almost wearing silver glitter dresses bouncing up and down at the velvet rope blocking the door. He looked at Sonny and shook his head. “The doctor's bills ain't worth it.” “Now how can you say that, Rico? They might be Bible Study teachers on the weekend.” Sonny grinned and then switched his face into Burnett mode. “Almost showtime. We'd better start moving. Turn your watch on when we get to the park.” The park was one of those failed attempts at 'community improvement' so many city councils figured would fix all the woes of a neighborhood on the cheap. The scattered benches were covered with graffiti, some of which had been half-heartedly painted over by the orange jump suit crew from County lockup. The shrubs were partly managed, but some were turning brown from lack of water. Sonny reached down and activated his watch as he checked the time. “Five minutes.” Rico nodded, watching the other direction. “I've got movement at the other side of the park. Looks like that shrimp Nicky in his damned pink shirt, some stocky dude who might be Hernan, and...” He cursed under his breath. “That big ape Mikko had following her. Looks like Nicky hired Jimmy for his security.” “This could get interesting real fast.” Sonny paused. “Let Burnett handle Jimmy, Rico. You stay clear. If anything goes south, we can't risk the deal.” Nicky was walking fast, out in front like he was the one in charge. “Cooper! My man! You ready to deal?” “I am.” Rico nodded. “You must be Nicky's boss,” he said to Hernan. “And I know that slab of meat.” Jimmy started to move when Sonny froze him with a stare. “Don't try it, pal. It'll be the last thing you do.” Hernan raised his hand. He was short, not quite as tall as Nicky, and had dark eyes that revealed nothing of what went on inside his head. A thin scar ran down one side of his face, and his black hair was slicked back. When he spoke his voice was deeper than Sonny had expected. “Nicky does deals for my people, yes. A middle man, you might say.” “Solid. Up north we call people like him punks, but to each his own.” Rico grinned. “I understand you have a sample for us?” “And the cash?” Rico reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a stack of bills. “Right here.” “Just stay right there, Jimmy.” Sonny had seen a slight flinch on the part of the big man. “You get too nervous over there and I'll calm you down with a .45.” “You must be Burnett.” Hernan chuckled. “It seems the stories do not quite do you justice. Nicky, call your dog off. Now.” “Just chill, Jimmy. Be cool. We got business here.” Nicky babbled, trying to insert himself back into the discussion. “It's all chill now, guys. We can talk business.” Sonny pulled out a test kit and handed it to Rico. “Here you are, Cooper. He's checkin' the money,” he nodded to Hernan who was using an ultraviolet light on the bills, “so we should check the product.” “This better be Red Cross. You try slipping some of that Mexican brown in here my people will have issues.” “Test it yourself. Nicky, give him the product.” Tubbs slit the bag and dropped a pinch into the tube, closing it and snapping the end to start the testing process. A few shakes later and he smiled. “Solid. If it's all like this it's worth every penny.” Hernan nodded. “It is. Our supplier takes the brand seriously.” He shot a look at Nicky. “Some fool tried stepping on some a few months back. He paid for his error.” Rico nodded. “Good business. You ruin a brand it loses value. No way back from that.” He looked around. “So I'm ready to deal if you are.” “Money's good.” Hernan nodded. “And random serial numbers. You know your business, too.” “Speaking of which, is this a one-time buy or can we talk longer term relationship? My people need product, and this is some of the best we've seen.” Hernan chewed on his lower lip. “I will need to see. For now, it is a one time deal. We have certain...obligations.” Sonny snickered. “Obligations my ass. The way I hear it you guys are in a shooting war with some Columbian whackjobs and need guns pronto.” “I'm sure Cooper is not interested in local news, Burnett.” “Oh, but I am. If they have an impact on my business I am. After getting burned by Tio my people insisted we learn about local affairs. It's all a global economy now, right?” “The affair with the Columbians will soon be over. And then we can talk more business.” “Fair enough. I'll go back to my car and make the call.” “Nicky will go with you. I need to call my people as well.” “Not alone you won't.” Sonny stepped forward. “If he has to take that runt Nicky I'm going with you.” “Of course.” Hernan smiled thinly. “It's still too early for blind trust. These are troubling times.” “You want to do the exchange here?” “Why not? Your people can bring the money to the lot and you walk it here. My people will do the same with the product and Jimmy will carry it here.” “So that's why you brought the ape along.” Sonny grinned, enjoying the look of rage flashing over Jimmy's square face. “Guess he's gotta be good for something.” He could feel Jimmy's eyes hot on his back the entire walk to the car, but Sonny made a point of going in front of him. Just to show his total lack of respect for the big man. It was a risk, but he also knew it was something Burnett would do. Hernan moved ahead like he was on a normal walk in the park, looking neither left nor right as he headed down the street to a big town car with blacked-out windows. Opening the passenger side door, he reached in and pulled out a phone receiver. He dialed and spoke a few quick words in Spanish. “They will be here in under five minutes,” he announced after he hung up. “One car with one driver. There will be no surprises, Burnett.” “Good. If there are, you're the first one to go.” “I'm well aware of your reputation, as I said. If you can burn down the whole Manolo operation, who am I to draw your wrath?” Hernan smiled, but Sonny didn't trust the look. Something about the guy started those spiders moving on his back again, and he'd be glad when this little dance was over. “Wise guys don't last too long in this game. Free advice. Next time it might not be free.” Hernan seemed to turn the words over in his mind, but before he could reply headlights flashed over them as a town car identical to the one parked at the curb turned onto the street. “Our delivery is here,” he said with a smile. “Nicky, get the bags.” The heroin was packed in two overstuffed gym bags, and Nicky hefted them with what Sonny noticed gratefully was some difficulty. Guess the big guy's more bulk than brawn. Good to know. They headed back to the park in silence, punctuated by Nicky's increasingly labored breathing. In the faint glow from the one of the three functional lights in the park he could see Tubbs and Nicky standing by the benches where they'd met. Nicky was shifting from one foot to the other, and Tubbs had a bag in his left hand. “Don't just stand there, Nicky,” Rico growled. “Help your friend. He looks like he's about to keel over.” They did the exchange in record time, Rico counting kilo bundles while Hernan did the same with the cash. Sonny contented himself with glaring at Nicky and Jimmy, while thinking back over what had gone down. It almost seems too easy. Too smooth. Rico looked up and grinned as he zipped up the second bag. “We're good to go, Hernan. Pleasure doing business with you.” “I could say the same. It's good to work with professionals.” “Speaking of which...my people are always looking for new sources for certain weapons that are hard to come by in our neck of the woods. I was wondering if you could do a referral for me? There'd be a finder's fee, of course.” Hernan's eyes narrowed. “Finder's fee?” “Say twenty percent of any purchases we make. Maybe thirty if the product's good. All you'd need to do is provide an introduction.” Sonny could almost see numbers appear over Hernan's head as he did the math. “I'll look into it. But we'd need a payment on top of the percentage if we're putting our reputation on the line for you.” “Fair enough. Get my pager number from Nicky.” Rico looked at the skinny punk. “You can go now. There's nothing else you need to carry.” “I'll be in touch.” Hernan shot a look at Nicky, making sure he didn't go too far. “Both about the product and that other business.” Sonny chuckled. “And Nicky? You'd better use part of your commission to get Jimmy a gym membership. He's a little out of shape to be playing muscle man for you.” They were partway back to the Caddy before Rico burst out in laughter. “You have no idea how much I wanted to shoot that big chump.” “I kept poking him for you, partner.” Sonny chuckled, thinking of the man's beady eyes and glare. “Nicky must be scraping the bottom if he had to hire him. I wonder if Mikko gives him freebies?” “Don't even think that!” Tubbs grimaced. “That fine lady with that grease stain. It's bad enough thinking of her with Jimmy, but pink tux shirt? I think I'd rather see her with Izzy.” “You'd better get that checked, partner.” Sonny set the bag down with a sigh as Tubbs popped the trunk. “Shit's heavy. Maybe you'd better get me a gym membership.” “Only after I get one for myself.” Rico hefted the bag in the trunk. “You think he'll bite on the guns?” “I do. You should have seen his eyes light up when you started talking finder's fees.” Tossing his bag in the trunk, Sonny looked down at his watch. “Ok, people. That's a wrap. We're clear.” He slammed the trunk shut and turned to Rico. “Let's get this stuff locked up and call it a night.” The debriefing was quick. Dave confirmed they'd been alone at the meeting. “I didn't see any activity until he made that call. The drug car wasn't more than a couple of blocks away, but it wasn't near the park. He was playing it safe.” Trudy and Mindy nodded. “We didn't see anything, either,” Trudy said, speaking for them both. “And we moved a couple of times to be sure.” “No chatter anywhere, although they did make a call or two after the meet.” Stan grinned an apology. “We don't have a tap on the car phone, but I can tell when he's using it. We got the call that triggered the heroin drop and there was another one after he left the area. We'll be watching for anything about the guns. And those mics worked just as advertised. We had good reception the whole time, even when they split you two up.” Lester nodded. “It's radio, so weather and crap like that can mess with it. And if you get near any of those TV towers forget about it. But tonight they did just what they were supposed to.” Sonny nodded. “Anyone got anything to add? Anything we should change up for next time? No? Then it's goodnight all. Stick with your assignments. And Trudy, be sure to tell Marty everything was fine. I know he wanted to be here.” “He's tired. He's getting better faster than the doctors expected, but he still wears down fast. They told him he had to stay home tonight.” She grimaced. “Let's just say he wasn't happy about it.” “He'll be back before we know it. Hell, maybe in time to help us wrap up Hernan if he gives us an in with those arms dealers. Whoever the hell they are.” Sonny looked at the wall clock and yawned. “Almost midnight. Let's shut her down and go home, people. Good work tonight.” The drive back to the marina was good decompression time, and Sonny made the most of it. Letting the mask of Burnett slide back into its hole and coming back from the hair trigger mode he'd been in since the Caddy rolled to a stop in the Venice Ballroom parking lot. Getting ready for an operation was tough, but sometimes he found coming down after one even harder. Sometime between when he'd left and now Vellamo had come home. He saw the yacht's distinctive mast profile when he pulled into the lot and suppressed a sigh. If he was lucky she'd already be asleep, but he figured he'd used all of his luck for the evening. Parking the Ferrari, he got out and started down the dock. As he'd expected, he saw a slim figure moving around in Vellamo's stern. Then he heard her voice. “Sonny? Is that you? Did you get my note?” “I did, darlin'. Just getting back from a job and I'm wiped. When did you tie up?” He wanted to keep walking. Neededto keep walking. But he knew if he did she'd likely make a scene. And he didn't need that kind of attention. “Two hours ago.” She paused, and he could see the moonlight highlighting her hair as she stood there in her trademark white shirt. Absently he wondered if she was wearing anything under it. “Can we talk?” “I'm not good company right now, but I suppose so.” He turned and started up the narrow gangplank. He didn't want her on the St Vitus for whatever was going to happen. “I'm sorry.” He could tell she was agitated. Her hands shook, and she started below, changed her mind, and then changed back. “Let's go below. It's better there.” “What's wrong? You seem nervous.” “You know how we don't talk? That's how I like it. It makes it simple. Less complicated. When people talk it's usually bad.” She sat down, letting the shirt fall open. She wasn't wearing anything under it, but seemed totally unaware of her nakedness. Or she was totally aware and using it to distract him. Sonny's senses went on full alert, though he kept his voice neutral. “Yeah. I'm not one to pry, so I don't ask unless you tell me.” “I think I might need your help.” She looked up at him. “I don't know what you do, and I don't want to know. But you have guns, so it must be serious. I might be in trouble.” Here we go! Sonny sat down, focusing on her eyes instead of her trim, muscled body. It wasn't easy, especially when she moved closer on the narrow saloon settee. “What kind of trouble?” “I...I'm in transport.” She giggled, resting her hand on his thigh. “Well, that sounds too fancy. I move things for people. Things they don't want found. Not drugs or anything. I'm not crazy. More like paintings. Vases. Fancy stuff.” “You mean stolen fancy stuff.” “I don't ask. They don't say. It's simple. Less complicated.” “I get it. You like simple.” He felt her warmth through his linen slacks. She's damned good at this, and she either knows she's doing it or she's a natural. “But what's that got to do with me? I ain't simple.” “No. You're not. I know that. You're complicated. I can see it in your eyes. So many things going at the same time. I don't know how you do it.” No, you don't know how I can't look down at that body. “So what's your problem?” “I used to work with a guy. Ok, he used to be my boyfriend. Back in school. Anyhow, he's kind of in the same business. Except he moves other things. Sometimes drugs, I think. I know his friends do. Anyhow, I left him in Lauderdale and came down here. Trying to start over.” She looked down, maybe aware for the first time her shirt was open but doing nothing about it. “He beat me a couple of times. When I wanted to know what he was moving. We each had boats, and he'd wanted me to help him a couple of times. I said no, and he smacked me around. That's when I knew I had to leave.” “And he found you again.” Sonny nodded. It was the same old story, falling into place before his eyes. Like Callie except it's a smuggling boyfriend instead of a dealer. But it still doesn't feel quite the same. “I think so. I saw him when I was out the time before this. Not 'saw' him, but ran into him at one of the docks. He just smiled and said 'Miami.' That was all. So yes, I think he knows.” “And you want me to do what?” “I don't know!” Her voice jumped, and then she calmed down. “I'm sorry. I'm just scared. And alone. I didn't know who else to turn to.” “It's ok.” Against his better judgement he slipped his arm around her shoulders and felt her melt against him. “I'm just trying to figure out where I stand in all this.” “Wherever you want to stand, Sonny.” She pressed her face into the shoulder of his blazer. “I...I like you. I really do. I wanted this to just be one of those things, but I can't do it. I can't keep it simple, no matter how hard I try.” “Sometimes life ain't simple, darlin'. No matter how much we want it to be.” Her hair was soft under his fingers, and he could feel her firm breasts through his jacket. And I can't tell if I'm being played. The damned spiders aren't dancing, which is a good sign. But this girl's either really good at this or she's as big a hot mess as she seems. “I can't make any promises, but I can have some friends look into this ex-boyfriend. He might just be a punk who talks big and likes to smack women around. If that's the case I can have someone sort him out. If it's bigger...we'll figure that out when we get there.” He regretted the words as soon as they'd left his mouth. She'd suckered him into her world, and he'd walked in with his damned eyes wide open. “Thank you, Sonny.” She smiled up at him, and he could see that familiar light in her eyes. “That's more than I expected.” She grabbed his shoulders, pulling him down to her. “And now I need something simple.” He'd come to expect suddenness with her, but the raw passion this time took him by surprise. It was like she'd been saving up for weeks and then unleashed it all on him in a single wave. Maybe in a way she had. It was clear she'd been building up her courage to talk to him about this, and now her relief was coming out. Or maybe it was something more. But her need didn't leave him time to think. It barely left him time to get his clothes off without them being torn off by her strong fingers.

The ceiling fan labored against the building heat of the day. Carlos watched the shadows it cast swirl on the floor in front of him, sending a stream of smoke into the air. They were normal cigarettes this time. He wanted his head clear. So far things were going according to plan. Double G and his Treys were about to close on more guns, and word on the street had it Eddie and his Kings were close to their mark as well. The time lag suited him perfectly. Eddie was proving unreliable and greedy besides. Two cardinal sins as far as Carlos was concerned. Leo pushed aside the curtain and walked in, mopping his brow. “Man, you gotta get a window unit in here at least. This place is like a damned sweatbox.” If you think this is bad, you should have been in Saigon instead of dodging the draft in Detroit. But Carlos never said that. He just smiled at his trusted right hand. “What's the word, Leo?” “I just got a call from Hernan. That Nicky's been busting his balls all morning about a twenty-five key deal with Cooper. Seems Cooper's threatening to take his black ass back to New York in two days if the deal don't go down.” Leo grinned, showing a gold tooth. “Nicky was also whining about how Cooper threatened to send this Burnett after him if the deal didn't go down.” “And this is our problem how?” “Don't play burnout hippie with me, Doc. You know why it's our problem. The Kings can't afford those Tech 9s without this deal. Hell, that idiot Eddie's losin' men faster than he can replace them. And with the Treys pushing back, the Columbians are concentrating on the weak spot.” “Of course they are. They might be animals, but they ain't stupid animals.” Carlos leaned forward, his eyes glittering in the light. “And don't call me a hippie again, dig?” “Sure...sure. Sorry, Doc.” “Can we swing that much weight?” “Yeah, I think so. It'll mean cutting down on what goes to Double G until the next shipment comes in, but...” “That's a small price to pay. If we can get rid of those damned Columbians it's worth it.” He sat, watching the shadows rotate in time with the fan's blades. Thinking. “Do it. But make Hernan wait for the answer. At least a day. I want them both to suffer a bit. Feel some fear.” “I'm glad I ain't payin' for Nicky's dry cleaning.” Leo chuckled. “Of course, having seen the little punk I don't think he knows what dry cleaning IS, let alone uses it. Hernan, though. He was really pushing for that fifty deal. Even after I told him it was a no-go.” Carlos nodded. “And Leo? When this is done I might need you to take care of Hernan. He's getting greedy, and that's not good for our long-term business.” “Gotcha, Doc. Say the word and it's done.” Once Leo left, Carlos leaned back and finished his cigarette. Between Leo and Juan, the man who ran his transport, he had two men he really trusted. Both from the old days in Detroit. Before Saigon and all the rest. Anyone else was expendable. At least as far as he was concerned. What mattered was keeping the supply lines secure and the product safe. Another lesson from Saigon. A man could always find dealers. But good supply was another matter. He'd heard things about this Burnett. How he'd gone through the Manolo cartel like a blowtorch, only to disappear and then reappear months later with his own network of transport. His services were always solid, and anyone who crossed him had a habit of disappearing or getting shot during a meeting. Carlos could appreciate that kind of efficiency. Cooper he'd heard of time and again, always coming down from New York with deep pockets and using Burnett to move the product. But Cooper always wanted too much. No, he could work with Burnett but not Cooper. But this deal had to happen. Had to if his plans were to work out. The Kings were too damned stupid to hold onto their own neighborhood without the guns. He wasn't as worried about the Treys. Double G ran a solid organization, built on trust and loyalty. Eddie had grabbed more than he could hold, and brought in people he couldn't trust. And now he was paying for it. Crushing out his cigarette, Carlos reached for his direct line to Juan. He'd run the lines himself, old Army stuff connecting the two field phones and untappable because they weren't on the grid. A similar phone linked him to Leo if he needed him. Some nights, late, he'd go out himself and check the wires. Making sure they were intact and untouched. Another of his Saigon lessons. But Juan needed to know the size of the pending deal so he could bring it together, tapping the reserve if he had to. Sonny's head finally started behaving itself after six more aspirin and four hours of sitting in the air conditioned office staring at the map tacked to the wall. Dave and Randy's reports had been converted to circles and dots and added to the webbing already in place, giving him a clear picture of the entire gang war. He could see where the Columbians had made deep inroads into the Kings' turf, and where they'd lost a bit of ground up north against the Treys. And the running body count told the same story. The Blancos were losing men fast again the Treys, while Los Tech 9s were bleeding the Kings out slowly but surely. It was partly firepower, but also organization. Rico had finally taken off his sunglasses. “Paints a damned nice picture, don't it?” “Yeah, it does. I'd bet you hear back from Nicky soon, given the way the Kings are bleeding out.” Stan stuck his head out the Tech Room door. “Guys, the wires are blowing up. I finally got Hernan on tape. That fleabrain Nicky's using Rizzo's payphone. Like we wouldn't think to bug that.” Stan snorted. “Amateurs. Anyhow, Hernan says he's making inroads and Nicky just needs to wait a few more hours. But Nicky might stroke out in a few more hours. You got him plenty scared, Rico.” “But Hernan's working the deal?” “Sounds like. He keeps insisting he's almost there, and that he needs the deal as much as Nicky does.” Stan grinned. “Sounds like you hit right with them needing money for guns.” “Speaking of which, any tape on that?” “Not yet. I'm guessing the bozos want to have cash in hand before they go calling that dealer again.” He paused. “I've got Lester scanning the Treys taps, and they're all pretty quiet. Just some chatter about upping security on the dealers again. Pretty normal for them.” “Keep at it, Stan. Great work, both of you.” Sonny looked at Rico and smiled. “We might have finally gotten somewhere.” “When do you want to bust them?” “Not yet. We gotta let Hernan and the cash lead us to that arms dealer. We take him out, the Treys can't upgun any more and Doc will have to come up with something else.” “You think they're using the same guy?” “Can't see how they aren't, Rico. It just lines up too damned perfectly.” Sonny looked at the map, wishing the dots could talk. “The Kings need cash, and Hernan's our way in. Hell, maybe I can pitch Burnett in as needing more firepower for his guys.” “Or Cooper needs more gats for New York.” Rico nodded. “It could work. We'll play it by ear.” “I just hate sitting on my damned hands waiting for the phone to ring. Or pager to buzz in this case.” Sonny shrugged. “But if it's what we gotta do...” “It's how many more have to die that eats at me. Every night we can't move means another couple of kids get shot.” “Yeah. I hear Metro-Dade's upping patrols, but it's all reactive. They move in after someone's been shot. The Columbians are smart enough to stay ahead of that. And patrol doesn't have the manpower to saturate both neighborhoods. Not without pulling units out of the rich areas.” “And you know they'd scream to high heaven if they did that.” Rico snorted. “Same thing, different day.” Stan stuck his head out again. “You guys might wanna know. Hernan just called someone on the Treys' side of the fence.” “He's got a cousin or something over there, I think.” Sonny looked up. “What did he say?” “Just 'it's happening.' No more than that.” “Sounds like he's tipping someone off.” Rico turned back to Sonny. “A trap?” “More like professional courtesy I'd guess. Maybe letting them know the Kings are about to upgun. They've got the same enemy, so who knows?” He turned back to Stan. “Let me know if anything else like that pops up.” “You got it.” Stan disappeared, reminding Sonny of a gopher ducking back in its hole. A pudgy gopher, of course, but the motion was similar. Night was starting to slide over Miami when Sonny Crockett pulled up outside the cemetery. Parking the Ferrari, he made the familiar walk to their gravestones. Pulling out the necklace, he touched the cooling granite. “We're turning the house into a center,” he whispered. “Angie and me. Well, mostly her with lots of help. It'll be named after you, baby.” He looked out at the red sunset and sighed, feeling all the old emotions welling up like they always did here. “I told her to reach out to Gina. Maybe she'll help. It feels bad, cutting the house loose like that, but it's something you'd want. At least I think it is. Hell, I don't know.” He looked at the engraved words. “There's so damned much I don't know.” He told her, or at least the stone, about Rico. “At least he knows. He's got that. Us? I'll never really know. But the center will help your name live on. You can still touch people through more than your music. That's gotta mean something, right? Your music's great, but this way you can help kids who are going through a rough time in their lives.” He looked out over the water. “It still feels strange. Giving up the house. I guess I always hoped if it was there, you'd somehow come back. You and Will. Crazy, I know. But I held onto it. Now, that's gone.” He gave the stone one final touch and turned away, feeling tears welling in his eyes. “I'll see you two next time. Let you know how it's going. I miss you, baby, and I wish I could have known you, son.” Then the mask slipped over his face, hard and cold. A little bit of Burnett peeking through. What he needed, maybe, to get through the rest of the night. “You're sure that's what he said, now?” Earl Lester Holmes gave Benny a once-over as they walked to the bar. Looking for any trace of exaggeration. Benny nodded. “Sure as hell, boss. That greaser said they'd have the money tomorrow, the next day at the latest. He sounded excited as hell, so I figure he's tellin' the truth.” “I do hope so.” Holmes ducked under the walkthrough and settled into his usual spot behind the bar. “I hate sittin' on those Tech 9s. Cheap crap, but it's all they deserve. You told him cash up front, right?” “Yeah. You can bet on that, boss. But he said they'd meet the price.” Benny chuckled. “I didn't even have to come down.” “Good man.” Holmes slid Benny a beer, twisting the cap off his own with a practiced motion of the wrist. “You got a plan for the sale?” “I think so, boss. We meet 'em down by the old Tucker place. The one with that damn barn. We can keep the guns and the boys in there until we know it's good to deal. That way if they try anything funny we can take 'em out.” “Good plan.” Holmes took a drink and watched Benny grin. It was always good to build the help up now and again. A little praise went a long way with Benny. “But I think we can do a bit more.” “What did I miss, boss?” “Nothin, Benny. Your plan's perfect if all we're meetin' is a bunch of spics buyin' guns. But I'm hoping for bigger game.” Holmes leaned forward. “You ever stop to wonder how they came up with that money that fast, when just the other day they didn't have two dimes to rub together?” “Someone bought their dope?” “Yeah.” Holmes took another deep drink. “Someone likely did. Or is going to. Now that someone could be one of two things: a big spender who might just need some guns to go with his dope; or Federals pretending to be big spenders. And if it's Federals, I'm gussin' it's our Federals. The ones we been lookin' for.” “You want me to call it off?” “No. I want you to keep goin' like nothing's wrong. At least as far as they can see.” Holmes looked to the front of the bar, at the men drinking and playing cards at the tables there. “Be sure the boys are ready.” “How many?” “As many as can be spared. Is that deal still goin' down tonight for the other six MAC-10s?” He waited for Benny's nod. “Good. Send a couple extra boys for security on that one, but off where they can't be seen. Once it's done get everyone ready to move. And everything.” “You mean...” “Yep. That's what I mean. If this is a bigger deal, we can just go on ahead an' see what their big spender wants. If it's that Burnett an' Cooper we keep hearin' so much about they might just replace the colonel as big spenders. I hear it's hard to get good hardware in New York City these days.” Holmes chuckled. “And if it's them Federals, we'll send 'em on their way pretty as you please.” He drained his beer. “We got no other deals pending. Have the boys get some practice in and wait for the call. If this works out, we'll be set either way.” “What about the Columbians?” “Seems like they're doin' a good job of gettin' themselves killed off, if the damned TV's anything t' go by. Those Ingrams are makin' a nice difference with the bunch Doc favors, and the others are just doin' God's work for him. But it's just junkies fightin' over product as far as the cops know. Dumb bastards. The colonel was right about them.” “I'll go have a word with the boys, boss. Make sure they're ready.” Holmes watched as Benny headed for the tables. Then he opened another beer and turned his thoughts to other things. His military sources were starting to dry up as men were transferred or retired. So many of the old guys were gone, off trading lies on the beaches or in those damned fishing boats so many of them seemed to buy. And they moved on without so much as a 'howdy' to their old buddy Earl. Only one or two had bothered to put him in touch with like-minded individuals with armory duty or access to what he needed. The thought made him snort. He'd bought most of their damned boats! Without his money they'd be working as security guards or some other shitty job on the low end of the scale. “What else can you expect from lifers?” he muttered as he took a drink of cold Bud. Bastards were always looking to screw someone. He'd learned that quick in Saigon, but at least there he'd had access to a grenade or two. Roll a smoker under their cot to give them a warning, and then follow up with a frag if they were stupid. And it was so damned easy to pin it on the spooks or the junkies clogging up the rear areas. He'd never even been looked at by the MPs or CID. But he was also more careful than most. It wasn't hard to get a lifer to go yell at the wrong person and then follow through himself. He could think of at least three people who'd ended up in good old LBJ – Long Binh Jail – for a frag he'd tossed. And with the colonel flying top cover it was even easier. He kept the man in ammunition and whatever else he needed, and he made sure people never looked at Sergeant Holmes and his little arms room kingdom. He sighed. Those days were over and gone now. Now he'd have to look out for himself, and screw the rest. That was the one thing of value he'd learned from the lifers: always have a plan to save your ass and screw the next guy. And he'd made sure he was as well-insulated as he could. Benny was set to take a good chunk of the fall if anything went south. Nothing personal, but business was business. A man had to look after what was his, because no one else would do it for him. Still, closing the deal for those Ingrams would be good. A few more grand in the ol' war chest would keep the natives happy. Or at least drunk enough to think they were happy. He'd rather have unloaded the M-16s he'd been sitting on since before the colonel's death, but there was no way he was giving that kind of firepower to those drug-slinging apes. Maybe the Cubans. They at least hated Commies, maybe even more than he did. But so far both sides had the sense to keep their feud away from Little Havana. No, the Tech 9s were as far as he'd go with the ones Doc wasn't backing. Ricardo Tubbs sauntered up to the bar, a grin plastered on his face. “Double scotch, mon. And charge it to my room. Teddy Prentiss.” The bartender nodded, recognizing a big tipper. “You got it, Mr. Prentiss.” “Call me Teddy, mon. We be great friends before long.” Rico's stomach lurched in protest at the smell of the scotch, and he promised himself it would be a light night. He just wanted to get Teddy out there in case anyone was sniffing around. That was the thing with a cover: you had to air it out from time to time or it got stale. Just like clothes you left in the closet for too long. And he knew Teddy was close to stale. He hadn't really used him since those small pot stings with the Dominicans, and that was almost five years ago. If he was going to be viable, he had to be on stage more than just once in a throwaway club. When the bartender returned, he smiled that big smile everyone thought was Jamaican from watching too many bad movies. “I got a few days in town, mon. Anyt'ing excitin' going on?” “Depends on what you mean by excitement.” The bartender, likely a kid working his way through school, leaned over. “I'd stay away from the riverfront, though. There's a nasty gang thing goin' on over there. Not a friendly place to be.” “Solid, mon.” Tubbs slid a twenty over the bar. “Teddy always appreciates news, good an' bad, if you know what I mean, mon.” “Sure I do. You looking for more relaxed excitement or something a little stronger?” “I been down the strong road, mon. It don't pay in the end.” He grinned again. “It's more the herb trade I be doin' now. Back to me roots if you know what I mean.” “Sure, sure.” The kid grinned like someone had let him in on a joke. “You looking for excitement or bringing it?” “A little of both, mon. A little of both.” Another twenty found its way across the bar. “Look. I'll make a couple of calls. It's not really my scene, but I know some dudes who are seriously into herbal supplements.” The kid grinned again. “Sorry I can't be of more help.” “You been righteous, mon. Just righteous.” Rico sipped at the scotch, begging his stomach to cooperate just a bit longer. “You know where to find me, mon. Now I think I might sit an' watch the ladies. Teddy Prentiss is a fan of beauty in all her forms.” Away from the bar, he found a table in the corner and set his drink down. He'd make it last the rest of the night just to keep his stomach agreeable. The bar had a bit of a dance floor, and a gangly refugee from the '70s hunkered behind a platform spinning disks. The mix wasn't much, but it was enough to draw some ladies out and not loud enough to make his head explode. After last night a club just wasn't in the cards. Rico wasn't going to hit the dance floor. He shuddered, thinking back on the two who had almost gotten him last time. Women with dyed blonde hair, bad boob jobs, and clothes that even hookers stopped wearing five years ago. They weren't there tonight, but he figured their sisters would be showing up later. Hoping to snare guys too drunk to notice until it was too late. Now it was just the daughters of old, rich white guys trying to warm up before sneaking away from daddy and hitting the real clubs. Or the mistresses and trophy wives of the same old rich guys shaking what they had in an effort to get a rise out of their sugar daddies. Fun to watch, maybe, but not something to get in the middle of. He could still hear the voices on the tape when he closed his eyes, even through the Bee Gees the DJ was pumping out from his little perch. The woman's, with all her compressed hate and range. And then Maynard, sounding like someone telling a servant to swat an annoying fly. He wondered how that had felt in the few seconds they had left to them; those women who'd been used to ordering others around, even having them killed, reduced to insects by a man who cared nothing for their family or what it had done. A smile formed on his face as he thought about it. I hope the bitches were actually terrified for the first time in their lives. The thought felt good, and he held onto it for a few moments before letting it slide away. Before he'd left the office, he'd added that tape to the envelope in his desk. It had been good seeing Robbie, too. The man was a reminder you could salvage a normal life from this crap, and it was good to see that from time to time. If he could climb out from under a mob family and run a business and have a family, it meant there was hope for others. Maybe Sonny's right. Maybe it isn't too late. Rico looked out at the bar, his gaze touching each lady on the dance floor and sizing up who they were with. If those chumps can land ladies like that...but they've got cash. Hell...I've got Rico charm! They can't touch that. He smiled, feeling his old self starting to crawl out of the hole he'd dug after his last talk with Valerie. Leaning back in the chair, he grinned and laughed loud enough that some of the old dudes turned around to look. “It's a great night, mon!” he announced, raising his glass to them. Some turned away, but one or two raised their own glasses with knowing smiles. Guys who've been there, too. He laughed again and finished his drink. Maybe one more wouldn't hurt before he headed upstairs and ordered room service. Drinking down here was one thing, eating was something else again. At least tonight. The next morning Rico ordered room service breakfast and sat on his balcony looking out over the water until it arrived. For the first time in weeks he'd had no dreams, and he was trying to make sense of it. Maybe it had to do with questions being answered. Or paths closed off for good. He wasn't sure. But he also couldn't say he missed them. Rafael would always be there. He knew that much. But maybe now the dream of Rico Jr. could finally rest. He took his time driving in, enjoying the drive with the top down and detouring along the strip just to get a whiff of the breeze coming in off the ocean. Pretending for a minute he was Teddy Prentiss, rockin' the suit and the sunglasses and watching the girls go by in their bikinis and teasing smiles. Once or twice he even returned their waves with a bright “Lookin' good, pretty lady!” or some other canned Teddyism, pleased he could remember most of them. It felt good, easing back into the laid back Teddy after months as more serious Cooper. Still, he knew he had to keep Cooper at the ready. That little punk Nicky should be paging any time now, and who knew what kind of crazy crap he'd try to toss at them. The only thing worse than a punk was a scared punk, and Nicky was all of that now. Couple that with Dominicans hard up for cash and it screamed rip-off to Rico. He'd mention it when he got in, but he was sure Sonny was already thinking of it and had a plan. Sonny was always damned good at that stuff. His time as Burnett proved that ten times over. Mindy smiled when he came bopping through the door. “You're looking better today.” “And you're lovely as ever.” He grinned. “It's amazing what sorting a few things out can do for you.” He looked at the inner office door. “Anyone else here?” “Sonny. He still wants to shoot the fax machine.” She smiled. “Another three down last night. All in Kings territory. I think the Blancos are trying to figure out where the Ingrams came from.” “At least we finally have something in common.” He smiled again. “Good to see you're finally off those crutches.” She nodded. “So's Lester. More or less, anyhow. I think Stan's trying to talk him into a cane. They're out playing in the Roach Coach so it's hard to say.” Nodding, he headed through into the conference room. Pouring coffee, he listened to a flood of curses coming through the open door to Castillo's office. Finally he had to laugh. “Just shoot the damned thing already.” “Don't tempt me! Just don't...” Sonny stuck his head out and laughed. “How'd your night go?” “Righteous, mon! Righteous.” Rico smiled. “Got Teddy out and planted a seed with the hotel bartender. Word should start spreading soon enough. He's just another dumb kid trying to pay for college.” “Good. So nothing from Nicky?” “Not yet. But it's still early.” He looked at the big Rolex. “He might not have even come down from last night yet.” “Yeah. Or he's at the clinic getting shots for whatever Trixie gave him.” Sonny chuckled. “Funny, since the doorman said he was hot for some other girl.” “You really think Nicky's the kind to pass up a freebie?” “No, I think Nicky's the kind of pond scum who takes whatever he can get, because it doesn't happen very much.” Mindy had already updated the map to reflect last night's body count, and Rico traced the line with a finger. “The Kings have lost almost three square blocks. That's a nice chunk of change gone. Even if they're just moving pot through it. That's what, four or five dealers per block?” “At least. And that doesn't count protection payoff from the liquor stores and the one bodega still open.” Sonny shook his head. “It's not lookin' good for them, so I can see Hernan working his ass off to make this deal happen.” “But will Doc play along?” Rico kept staring at the map, converting the lines into crumbling buildings and dim corners. Alleys that reeked of rotting garbage and piss. It was the same as what he'd seen growing up. It was just hotter. “He might not have a choice if he wants to keep both gangs viable. If he's running through Treys territory he loses his flank if the Kings collapse. And he's smart enough to see that and to want to avoid it.” “Sounds like you got him down.” Sonny sighed. “No. I just think like Burnett. What would he do to tighten up his position? This Doc's one smart son of a bitch, so I go after him that way. The Kings are random. The Columbians are just doing what they do. What they learned from the Mendozas. This Doc...he's different.” “You think he's got control of the Treys?” Sonny thought for a few minutes, then shook his head. “No, I don't think so. They were there before Red Cross started showing up. Hell, if Gangs is right they've been in that neighborhood for over two decades. I don't think he runs them, but he's got some kind of understanding with them.” “So how do we play Nicky?” “I'm just gonna stand there and make him shit himself. That's what Burnett does.” Sonny chuckled. “What's your plan?” “Depends. If it's just him again, I'm gonna push until we get him and this Hernan. See if we can get one step closer to Doc or whoever fronts for him. Hell, I might even drop word I'm lookin' for some guns. Maybe we can get Hernan to give that up, too.” “You really wanna piss off ATF?” Sonny pretended to think about it. “Ok. Fine by me. They keep faxing me about those damned taps. So anything that pisses in their Cheerios makes me happy.” “Solid.” Rico leaned back in the chair, letting his eyes unfocus. He'd stared at the map enough he could almost see it tattooed on the inside of his eyelids. “You think there's any point in rattling Moreno's cage again?” “Naw. Let the little cretin rip off old people in peace. This whole thing's way above his pay grade now.” Rico saw a look pass over Sonny's face. “I'd actually feel kinda bad if he went and got himself killed sniffing around this. It's too hot for him now.” “Yeah, I guess you're right. He does kinda grow on you. And we've been working with him for how long now?” “About seven years with you, and Eddie and I ran him for a couple of years before that. How he's lasted that long is a mystery to me.” Sonny grinned. “Maybe God does watch over fools and idiots.” Rico felt a familiar buzz at his hip. “Speaking of both, Nicky just paged. I'm gonna let the chump stew for a couple of minutes.” He shifted in the chair, feeling the now-familiar weight of the Walther P-88. “By the way, that holster showed up. Thanks for the tip. It looks like it's gonna work damned well.” “Good.” Sonny had gone back to staring at the map like he was waiting for it to tell him something. “I think I'll call the chump from outside Rumour again.” Rico keyed up the right soundtrack and punched in Nicky's number. “Make it quick. I got a hot blonde inside who doesn't want to wait.” Nicky's voice was thin, strained. Like a string pulled too tight. “I can get you twenty-five, Cooper. That's all there is in the city right now.” “You or the guy above you?” “The guy above me. He...he wants to be at the exchange.” “Seems fair. I'll have Burnett with me. Maybe one or two of his partners, too.” Rico laughed. “I'm learning you can't be too careful in this shithole you people call a city.” “You know the Venice Ballroom?” “Well enough to know they ain't gonna let a chump like you in.” “Very funny. We're not going in, smartass. There's a park right down the street from there. Little place with lots of privacy. We'll meet there. Tomorrow night at ten. He likes your look, we make the deal.” “And if you think I'm gonna waltz into some dark park with that much cash you're a bigger idiot than I thought.” He heard rustling as Nicky covered the receiver. If they were lucky Stan could pick words out of the muffled noise leaking past his fingers. “Ok. We'll bring a sample, you bring two grand. If the sample checks out, and it will, we'll call for the rest of the goods and you can call for the cash.” “Don't try to play me, asshole. We'll do it your way. Once. If anything seems off, or you even think about a rip, my ass is on a plane before you can spit and you're left explaining to Burnett why you screwed up his end of what could be a million dollar deal. Tomorrow night at ten. The park down from the Venice Ballroom. We'll be there. If you're five minutes late we walk and the deal dies.” Nicky was sputtering into the receiver when Tubbs slammed down the phone. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he looked at Sonny and grinned. “You think I pushed him too hard?” “No, partner. That was just the right amount of force. He's not sure who he's more scared of now, and that's right where we want him.” “He said his boss was gonna be there. That must be Hernan.” “They must be more pressed for cash than we thought. I figured it would take at least two deals to smoke him out.” Sonny got up. “I'll start the expedited buy paperwork now. We should have it by noon tomorrow if what Castillo left in his notes is right. How much do you need?” “We never talked price. But if he's got twenty-five keys let's say forty a key. So a million even. Maybe a touch extra for parking.” “I'll write it up.” Sonny paused on his way to the office. “You think it'll go for forty?” “I might be able to talk them down, but plan on the worst case. We'll have Dave and Randy bring only what we need once the deal's done.” “They can buy a lot of firepower with that much cash.” “They need bodies, too, Sonny. And with the numbers they've been loosing people ain't gonna come cheap.” “You got that right.” Sitting alone in the big room, Rico let his mind wander. At least the case was starting to move again, and maybe now they could pin something on Nicky other than having no sense of style. The kid was punching way above his weight, and was about due to be smacked down hard. He did wish they had more on Hernan, though. Somehow the man had avoided the system, even though he'd been a mid-level solider in the 8-Ball Kings for almost a decade. That alone made him dangerous, and staying under the radar that long meant he was capable, too. But he also had ties to the Treys. It wasn't a good combination from what Rico knew of gang politics, and it likely made him extra-careful and paranoid. With any luck he was clean, but if he was coked out it would be the trifecta of stupid and dangerous. Reaching down, Rico patted the butt of his Walther. At least he'd have fifteen chances to shut the fool up, sixteen if he carried one in the chamber. He was still mulling things over when the door opened and Castillo and Trudy came in. “Any word?” “Just got off the phone with Nicky, lieutenant.” Tubbs filled him in on the details. “I'm not crazy about meeting Hernan cold like this,” he finished, “but we don't have much of a choice if we want to get him in the open.” “No, but I want you covered. Either Dave or Randy from high ground. You'll need one of them with the money, but the other one needs to be on overwatch.” Castillo turned to Trudy. “Have Mindy check with the chief deputy and see if we can get two M-21s.” He turned back to Rico. “Semi-automatic sniper rifles. They'll need firepower if they're operating solo. The bolt-actions are more accurate, but they're slower and have smaller magazines.” “Whatever you say, lieutenant. That long gun stuff's all Greek to me. I just know I want them on my side and not the other side.” “Lieutenant Rodriguez was killed by a sniper. Never take their presence for granted when you're planning. More and more of these gangs are starting to use them. They're not very good. Yet. But we have to be ahead of the curve.” “You got that right.” Rico leaned forward. “My plan is to push this Hernan a bit. See what he'll give up. I might drop a line about guns just to see if he's biting.” “Be careful. They're all on edge right now. Especially the Kings.” “And that's why I'd pitch it as him earning a finder's fee for helping me out.” Rico paused. “I ain't gonna push it too far, lieutenant. Just dangle the line and see if we get a nibble. If not, I reel in and head home.” Trudy looked at the map again. “You ever think we might be buying up all the Red Cross Doc has on hand right now?” “Explain.” Castillo sank into a chair with a groan Tubbs heard but knew he was supposed to ignore. “Nicky balked at fifty, right? I mean said no way, no how. But then he comes up with twenty-five. Maybe that's all Doc has on hand to sell. That means the pipeline dries up until his next load gets in. Mindy and I are still working on the ships, but there's a lot of them.” “And his cut of the sale ain't gonna be pennies.” Rico nodded, following Trudy's line of thinking. “I'll bet out of that million the Kings only walk away with ten percent. Maybe twenty. So any finder's fee is gonna look damned good to them. They can't bargain with Doc because they got no leverage.” “You think his cut's that high?” “If Trudy's right and he's setting his own trade back possibly weeks, count on it.” Rico nodded. “It makes sense. He's not worried because he thinks it's going out of state. No blowback on him if something goes south. But if he's as sharp as we think he is, he's gonna want to maximize what he gets off this one to make up for what he's losing in longer-range sales. He must be getting something he thinks is worth it, though, because he's losing money on this.” “How much?” Trudy looked at the ceiling. “If he can sell a gram on the street for one twenty, that's one hundred twenty-five a kilo. So he's losing about two million on that load. At least.” Rico whistled. “I guess we know what his security's worth to him, then.” Castillo nodded. “It also confirms how dangerous he is. How many dealers could take that kind of long-term view?” He paused, then locked eyes with Rico. “Make the deal happen. Push as much as you need to if you think it will get us closer to whoever's selling the guns. This just shows how desperate Doc is right now. We have to add to that.” Carlos could feel Lou's eyes on him, but he kept staring at the shadows from the fan. “You're letting them take it with just that much down?” Lou's voice was sharp. “What if they back out?” “They won't. They can't really. See, it's like this. They know we have them by the balls. If they screw me, they don't get any more Red Cross. Ever. They need that to survive. Eddie might be an idiot, but he's not a total fool. They don't want to see all the custom going to Double G and his Treys.” “Still, Doc, I don't like it. Can I just...” “No. I don't want you out where someone could see you. You never know if someone's following Cooper and Burnett. If Hernan goes down, so what? He just makes new friends in prison. But I can't lose you, Lou. You dig?” “Whatever, boss. I dig. What I don't dig is the loss we're taking.” “Only in the short term, Lou. You gotta think longer. Not weeks, but months. Not months, but years. We'll make that money back in four months, tops. Maybe less if we up the incoming load a bit. And if this Cooper thing is legit, we might have a new outside market. Push some of the risk further away from us.” “You know...” “Know what, Lou? You know I want your thoughts, man. You're my eyes out there.” “Yeah. I don't trust Hernan. There's a stink coming off him I can't rinse off.” “It's his cousin in the Treys. Hernan's got a foot in both camps, but one doesn't know about the other. It makes him a damned liability.” Carlos nodded almost to himself, reaching into a fatigue pocket and pulling out the special Camels. “A big damned liability. If Nicky shows he can pull his own with Cooper, I might have you do something about that liability. Manage the risk now rather than later.” “You still want him getting those Tech 9s?” “Why not? Let the redneck make his small change. Then he and his fat bubba buddies can jerk each other off and whistle Dixie for all I care.” Carlos drew the smoke in deep, holding it there, letting the calm flow through his veins. “Be sure Hernan and Nicky have the product. And be ready to move on Hernan when I give the word.” “You got it, boss.” Lou actually smiled. “Never did like that greasy bastard. Him and his damned El Camino. Gives us all a bad name, rollin' around like some cut-rate cholo.” Once Lou left, Carlos let himself wander in this thoughts, helped along by the good herb and the heat of the afternoon. So much had gone wrong since those damned Columbians had started their little campaign, but now so much was going right. Double G had reclaimed his turf, and was pushing the Columbians out of the sliver they'd managed to take. And now that idiot Eddie and the Kings had a chance to make their side right as well. Getting to his feet, Carlos walked to the curtain and stepped through into the other room. He had his sources, too, and he knew the Blancos were about tapped out. Their best shooters were dead, fallen to the MAC-10s and the better organization of the Treys, and their more recent recruits were deserting the sinking ship. Los Tech9s were still riding the wave, but soon enough they'd crash and burn, too. Then the balance would be restored and business could carry on as usual. Well, almost as usual. He had to admit the idea of a new market tempted him. Not from greed, but from security. Every additional layer he put between himself and the product hitting the street made him one level safer if things went to shit. Like when he recruited medevac pilots to fly his heroin up north from Saigon to the firebases in I Corps. If one of them got caught, all they could do was finger a crewchief, who in turn could only give up some punk in maintenance or a hospital orderly. And they in turn could only point to a box where they'd picked up their shit and left their cash. Insulation. It was how he survived. “You hungry now, boss?” It was one of the girls from the front. Running a Vietnamese restaurant as a front hadn't been his original idea, but it worked well. If he ever missed the smells and sounds too much, he just opened the door and took it all in again. Going right back to the room in Cholon where he'd spent a year on the run. And Soul Alley. All gone now, but alive to him every time he inhaled. “Yes, Mai. Whatever's handy would be nice.” They knew he wasn't picky. So long as it was hot and fresh Carlos was happy. He took the steaming bowl back into the office, suddenly tired of the noise and ravenous at the smell of noodles and shrimp. All he needed was a little more patience and everything would be solved.

It was dark by the time Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs rode the elevator up to Casa Cooper. The ride over had been quiet, each man dealing with his own grief in his own way. A quick stop through a drive-through for burgers and then they were done. Sonny set the bag on the kitchen island. “You got any beer in this place?” “My booze not good enough for you?” There was an edge to Rico's voice that made Sonny wary. “Sure. I just felt like a beer with the burger is all.” Rico nodded. “I'm sorry, Sonny.” “Don't worry about it, partner. You're entitled tonight. Been a hell of a day.” “I can't stop hearing that pistol shot. No matter how hard I try.” Opening the refrigerator, Sonny pulled out two bottles of Coors and opened them. “Have one of these and don't try.” “How did you do it?” “Do what?” He knew the tone in Rico's voice and got cautious. Dangerous ground you're heading toward, partner. “Move on past that stuff? Caitlin and all that?” “How did you get past your brother being murdered? I ain't saying that to be mean, partner, but it's the same question.” Sonny took a pull of his beer, feeling the cold liquid cool his throat. “You either deal or you don't, I guess. And we deal, but we both lost it in the aftermath.” “I guess you're right.” Rico nodded, downing half his beer in one long swallow. “Hell, I went totally off the rails and came down here posing as him. Broke just about every rule in the NYPD handbook.” “And I blew Hackman's head off on some piss-ant Caribbean island. Broke damned near all my own rules. Then I went and got my head scrambled and blew a couple of cartels to pieces.” Sonny looked out the window, not seeing the skyline. “I guess you could say that when we go off the rails we don't mess around.” “You know what the strange thing is, Sonny? It doesn't hurt as much as I think it should. This isn't anything like Rafael.” “It's because you didn't know him. You had an idea of him, but you didn't really know him. Kinda like me and Will. It's the idea that hurts. I don't miss him as much as I miss the idea of raising him. Doing all those things I should have done with Billy. Maybe that's kinda like you and Rico, Jr.” “Yeah. I was already making a list of things my dad did that I swore I'd never do.” Rico finished his beer and came around the island to grab another. “It's like his mother, too. I miss the idea of her, but I never really knew her. It's like a dream most of the time.” Sonny nodded. He didn't say it, but a part of him envied Rico. It was easier to lose a dream than it was to lose the real thing. Some nights he still shot awake, hearing the sickening smack the bullet made as it tore into Caitlin on that damned stage. Still, dream or not, that kind of loss hurt. They ate on the rooftop patio, drinking and talking as the streets turned neon and gold. After his fourth beer, Rico looked around and sighed. “I don't think I'm gonna need much time away, Sonny. It's better if I'm busy.” “So long as you're focused, partner. That's what matters, more now than ever.” “Yeah. I got you to watch for that.” Rico chuckled. “Hey, you wonder what Dave and his nephew are doing?” “Probably what we are. Drinking and talking.” Sonny took another drink, feeling the condensation from the bottle dripping over his hand. “Did you see that kid's eyes? He's one cool customer. Seen too damned much.” “Yeah.” Rico smiled. “I wonder what he saw when he looked at us?” “Two well-dressed cops who've seen too damned much and aren't smart enough to find anything else to do.” Sonny raised his bottle. “To the Job. Bitch that she it.” “To the Job.” Tubbs drank deep, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. “And she is a bitch.” It was almost noon the next day when Sonny looked at his watch. “You want to come out to the boat? I gotta check on Elvis and maybe we can take the Scarab or Little Lou out on the water. Change of scene.” Rico looked up from the couch, his bloodshot eyes mute testament to his hangover. “Why not? Might as well take Little Lou before whatever agency Marty borrowed it from wants it back.” Sonny almost sighed in relief when they pulled up and he saw Vellamo's spot empty. The marina master met him at the head of the dock. “You'd better get some more damned fish for that gator of yours, Sonny.” He nodded to the cooler. “Got 'em right here. And we're gonna go out and try to catch some more. He actin' up again?” “Naw. That blonde number's been feedin' him, I think. You two a thing now?” “That's a damned good question.” “One o' them, is it? She said to tell you she'll be back in a couplea days.” Nodding his thanks, Sonny lugged the cooler down to the St. Vitus Dance. Tubbs followed along, his mood lightening as they went. “That dude always like that?” “Yeah. He likes playing the old salt even though I think he's from Michigan or someplace like that.” “I always wondered, Sonny. Why don't you just buy that boat outright?” Sonny tossed the tuna to a snapping Elvis before answering. “I don't know, Rico. I really don't. I sure as hell could. Catilin's estate was big enough I need a damned accountant to track it, and royalties keep coming in. I guess I just don't think about it.” “Sorry. I shouldn't have asked.” “It's all good, Rico. Hell, I rent the house to that big bodyguard chick of hers for a dollar a year.” He shook his head. “I could never go back there.” “I get it, partner.” He looked over at Elvis. “Is it safe now?” “Yeah. There's beer and food on Little Lou. I kept it stocked just in case we had to go play Rico and Sonny again.” He chuckled. “Let me throw some extra kibble out for him and then we'll go.” He ducked below to grab the food, and stopped when he saw a note on the saloon table and the light blinking on his answering machine. “Russian roulette with two rounds in the damned chamber,” he muttered. The note had to be from Jenny, so he stuffed it in his pocket unread. There were two phones on the boat, and the one that was blinking was a number very few people knew. Snatching up the receiver, he keyed in the code and listened to the message. When he came back on deck his face was pale. Rico noticed right away. “What's up, Sonny? Castillo call?” “I wish.” Sonny didn't know what to say. Feelings started balling up in his stomach, threatening to explode in a million different directions. It was like someone had turned on an endless reel in his mind, playing every good and bad moment back through over and over. “That was Angie. Caitlin's old assistant.” “Yeah, I remember her. The scary sister with the fashion sense of Izzy?” “Yeah, and she'd beat your ass if she heard you say that.” Sonny tried to chuckle, but it died in his throat. “She wants to talk about starting some kind of home there. A group thing for at-risk teens.” “I thought you were over that house.” “So did I, man. Until I heard her say that on the tape. Then all those memories starting flooding back.” “Man, we are two fucked-up individuals, aren't we?” “Yeah, and we don't need water.” Sonny turned away from the boat. “We need Sanctuary.” “Now you're talkin'. A little bull session with Robbie and good drinks.” It was cool and dark in the club, the music low until people started flooding in later. Robbie came up as soon as the bartender hung up the house phone, his narrow face showing concern. “You two look like shit. Let's take this to the office.” He broke out the good bourbon and listened as Rico and then Sonny told their tales. “You two know how to have a shitty couple of days,” he said when they finished. “Now maybe you'll think again about calling Debbie, Rico. She really did like you. Keeps bugging me about when I'm going to see you again.” Rico forced a chuckle. “I still gotta think about this whole settling down thing, Robbie. That's why I don't call her. I don't want to string her along.” “Good man.” He turned. “And you, Sonny. What the hell? I never knew you had a pad like that.” “It was hers, really. Then it was ours.” He shook his head, looking down at the golden liquid in his glass. “I never went back there after funeral. Never thought I'd want to see it again. Then she mentions this and it's all I can think of.” “What would Caitlin have wanted?” “She'd be all for a home like that. She loved kids, and her own childhood wasn't something to write home about.” “Then do it for her, Sonny.” “You're right, Robbie. It's what she'd want. Hell, she probably would want to run it herself if she...” “And you'd be right by her side because that's how you are. It's how you've always been, Sonny. When you weren't being a selfish asshole, at least.” Robbie laughed and poured them more drinks. “You'll do what's right because you can't do anything else.” They talked more, laughing and sipping their drinks, and Sonny felt all his tension slipping away. Looking over, he could see Rico relaxing, opening up, letting his anger sink back into its hole. He knew the feeling because it was happening to him, too. Castillo had been right. Again. They needed the time away, even it was just a day. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a battered notebook and flipped through the pages. “Can I use your phone, Robbie? I gotta make a call.” She answered on the third ring. “Hello?” “Angie? It's Sonny. Have the lawyer send the papers to the boat and I'll sign. Three things, though, and they aren't negotiable. It has to have proper, credentialed staff. It has to be a non-profit, and it has to be called the Caitlin Davies Recovery Home. Give me any lip and I'll smack you through the phone.” She laughed, and he could picture her leaning back in chair. “Mister Sonny's all tough when he's not close. But I'd argue with none of that. Girlfriend would want it that way.” Then her voice changed, losing its edge. “Thank you, Sonny. I've started volunteering, and some of those kids need better help than they're getting.” “I'll put you in touch with someone. Detective Gina Calabrese. She works with the advocate's office. You met her at the wedding...and the funeral.” “I remember. She'll help?” “Yeah. And her new boyfriend is good with electronics.” “You take care, Sonny. And come by often.” “I will...now, Angie. You have my word.” When he hung up the phone, Sonny felt like someone had just lifted a weight off his heart. And he could almost feel her lips on his neck and hear her whispering 'thank you' with that Scottish lilt. Reaching up he felt her ring on the necklace under his shirt and decided maybe he had. Then he realized the other two were staring at him. “Sorry about that. You got any more of that Maker's Mark around, Robbie? I need a drink.” Martin Castillo looked at the map. “Two more were killed last night?” “Yes, lieutenant.” Randy nodded. “Both with MAC-10s. And again only in Treys territory. The Kings lost another dealer to the Tech 9s.” “Still just two MACs?” “We think so. We only saw one of the hits, and the shooters didn't stick around.” Castillo nodded, turning to Stan and Lester. Asking for their report with his eyes. “We're picking up lots of chatter from both gangs, lieutenant. The Kings seem to be tryin' to raise cash in a hurry, and we think we picked Nicky out of some of the noise. At least his name's come up. The Treys are quieter, but they are making noise about some deal out of town.” Lester nodded. “I think it's more guns, lieutenant. So far the Treys don't talk dope on the phone. I think they might be worried about Blanco taps or something. They use a lot of code. The Kings don't.” “Any word from Tubbs and Crockett?” Trudy shook her head. “No, but they'd check in if anything happened. I can page them.” “No. I told Rico he could have a day.” He turned to Dave. “How's your nephew?” “He's doing ok, lieutenant. Thanks for time with him. We hadn't spoken in years.” Dave shrugged. “I think he blamed me for not being around after his parents were killed. But we're good now.” “Good.” Castillo turned back to the map. “Crockett was right. Doc is somewhere in deep in Treys turf. He's using both gangs as a screen, and now his screen's in danger. We need to watch closely for changes, especially in weapons and how the gangs operate. The MAC-10s are likely his doing. And he'll do more to secure his position.” Mindy spoke up. “Sonny agreed with Vallencio's notes, lieutenant. He thinks this Doc was either a cop once or trained with one.” “Crockett's got good instincts. And Lieutenant Vallencio's a good cop. I think they're right, which makes Doc more dangerous. He'll know what we'll do, so we have to be different. Come at him in ways he doesn't expect. And with Metro-Dade swarming all over this gang war we have to watch our step.” “From what Randy and I see they ain't swarming too damned hard.” “They're risk-averse. They're trying to keep it contained, though they'll never say that in the media.” Castillo's eyes were hard. “I know how they think. If they keep it in the barrio no one will notice. It's when it spreads out to the tourist beaches that they really crack down. But that doesn't mean there aren't detectives out there working cases. We just have to avoid them.” “Are you worried about a leak?” Trudy's eyes went wide. “Another Gorman?” “No. None of these gangs have the resources of Moncado. Or Maynard. But someone might talk to the press. Tip them off to our operation. So we stay on our own for now.” He looked around the table “Keep with the assignments Crockett gave you. I'm still on limited duty according to the doctors and Detective Joplin.” Stan and Lester waited until the others had scattered to their offices or left for the street. Stan shifted from one foot to the other. “Lieutenant, Lester and I want to shift some of the surveillance from the Treys to the Kings.” “Why?” “The Kings are looser, and they're under pressure. I think Lester's right and they're trying to make a big arms buy. There have been a couple of calls to some white guy...all short, not more than ten seconds. We think that's a cue to change phones, but we don't have enough now to know where they're going. That and Nicky's connection runs mostly with the Kings. If his name's coming up, sooner or later Hernan's will, too. And we want to be ahead of the game.” “Do it. I'm sure Crockett would say the same thing.” Stan grinned. “Thanks, lieutenant. No disrespect, you know.” “I know. He's in charge, but you have to ask me because he's not here. I'd expect the same thing if I was out and he was here.” Castillo held his stare but then relented. “I know you two had history, but that you've both moved past that. Do what you think is best with the surveillance plan.” Trudy nodded, having heard the conversation from her office and come back out the big table. “It makes sense. The Treys have good communication discipline. Dave and Randy have seen them using hand-held radios, so we might have to expand the capability of the Roach Coach a bit.” “Do it. We need to know what they're saying.” She nodded but didn't move. “What do we do when this is over? You said it in there. The first time we fail someone will shut us down.” “We move on. You and I.” He looked at the map to focus his thoughts. “I've been doing this a long time. Maybe too long. It's easier when you're alone.” He raised his hand. “But that's not good. When it's easy you don't stop. Now...” “You'd walk away?” “Could you go back to OCB after the freedom we've had here? The support?” He shook his head. “I couldn't, either. And now we're not going home alone.” She reached out and touched his hand. “Do you think we can get Doc?” “Yes. But it won't be easy. He's not as violent as Maynard and Moncado, but he's smarter. And he's shown he's very capable of violence when it's necessary. We'll get him. I just don't know how much time it will take. Or what resources.” “One of the things Mindy learned when she went through Quantico was something called predictive analysis. We can try it and see what we come up with. Some possible moves he might take.” Castillo smiled. “We used to call that thinking like the other guy. Leave it to the FBI to hang a fancy name on it. But yes, that's a good idea. Use the intel we have and see what you can match to what we know of Doc's habits.” He paused. “And assume he was a police officer or at least trained to be one.” “We'll get right on it.” She looked at him with concern. “You're starting to look tired. Maybe we should head home.” “Talk it over with Deputy O'Laughlin first. At least get her started.” He smiled, pushing the pain back down inside. “I'll be fine for another hour or so.” They were most of the way through the bottle of Maker's Mark when Sonny remembered the note he'd stuffed in his pocket. Actually his hand had brushed against it when he was reaching for his lighter, but it was the same thing. Tubbs was explaining the finer points of armed robbery to Robbie, so he figured they wouldn't notice if he gave it a quick read. As he'd expected, it was from Jenny. Her ornate, spidery writing was unmistakable. “I missed you before I left. When I come back we need to talk. Please. I know we don't do that much, but it's important. At least to me. Maybe not to you. I don't know. Jenny.” Robbie whistled. “What the hell, Sonny? That's a damned funny look.” Tubbs looked over and laughed. Even through his confusion, Sonny was glad to hear his partner really laugh. He's turning a corner. “That's the Jenny look, Robbie.” “Jenny? You keeping secrets from me again?” “No. It's not that.” He struggled through the bourbon to put his thoughts in order. “She's this lady who just showed up at my boat one day with beer. Her boat's tied up just down the way. One thing led to another...and let me tell you she's got one hell of a body. But something's just not right.” “You run her?” “You and everyone else asked me that. Yeah. I had Stan run her. She comes up more or less clean. Some small stuff a few years back but nothing major. Her boat may or may not be clean, depending on if she's changing the name once she gets out of sight of land. One just like it is on the Customs watchlist for art smuggling.” “Ok. You gave me the MP version. What's her real story?” “That's it, man. I don't know. She breaks into the boat sometimes and waits for me wearing nothing but a smile. Other times she gets me on her boat and does the same damned thing. If she talks it's this weird almost poetry stuff. Makes no damned sense. But she's never asked what I do. Never even really asked about my last name.” “You think she's playing you?” “Hell, man. I don't know. That's what drives me nuts. I don't know what her damned game is. Maybe she's just some crazy leftover hippie who deciding bathing and shaving were both cool.” “I kept tellin' him to roll with it, but now it's done rolled over him.” Tubbs laughed again, the bourbon showing in his wide smile. Robbie laughed. “You don't know the half of it, Rico. Remember that stripper from Puller's Palace just outside the gate, Sonny? Oh, yeah. She was a dancer, right?” “Damn it! I'd forgotten about her.” “I'll bet you did.” Robbie laughed again. “You shoulda seen her, Rico. More tattoos than an old sailor and looks to match. But Sonny, he falls for her sad story right away. It took Staff Sergeant Coffman tellin' him she'd married just about every boot in the last recruit training company before he realized she was scammin' him.” “What can I say? She had a good story.” Sonny smiled, his eyes glittering at a memory. “Did you ever tell Julia about that little bucktoothed mamasan you met in Da Nang? What was the name of that place? Number One Fun Town. That was it. Rico, you could smell the place from a klick away. Yet good ol' Robbie falls head over heels for this girl. He was all set to bring her back to the States until the South Vietnamese police picked her up as a VC agent.” “It was a low point in my career.” Robbie chuckled. “But now that we've established we're both idiots when it comes to women, what are you gonna do about this lady?” “I don't know, man. I gotta stay focused on this operation. I can't let her in just now.” Rico shook his head. “She might not give you a choice. So far Jenny's been calling all the shots in this one.” Robbie looked at the clock on his desk. “Shit, guys. I gotta run. Julia will kill me if I'm late for dinner, and Alan's got this school thing...” “You're a good father, Robbie. Just like you said you would be.” Sonny stood up and hugged his friend. “And we'll head out, too. Leave you some booze for tomorrow.” “I'll have one of my people drive you. Another one will follow in your car.” Robbie hugged them both. “It's hard to lose a dream, Rico. But you can make new ones. Never forget that. I almost did.” His head pounded like a bass drum, and it felt like a nest of cottonmouths had crawled into his throat and died, but Sonny was at task force headquarters bright and early the next day. Swallowing aspirin with his coffee, he glared at Mindy. “Don't ask. How was last night?” “Four dead and a customer, I mean bystander, wounded. MAC-10s again for two of them. The other two were Kings dealers and the 'bystander' was one of their customers.” Sonny squinted, wishing the lights weren't so bright and that his head would stop pounding for at least ten seconds. “How's the chief deputy?” “He's fine. None of this bothers him. The mayor and most of the Metro-Dade command structure are another matter, but we don't work for any of them.” She smiled, showing her pretty dimples. “I'd hate to be on that force right now.” “Nothing will change until a tourist gets caught in the crossfire. And with those MACs it's gonna happen sooner rather than later. Dave and Randy get anything good?” “They're done with the perimeter recon. They've gotten faces for the names we had for most of the dealers, both Kings and Treys. They've also identified a handful of the Columbians, mainly the ones left over from that Mendoza organization you guys talk about. A lot of the time the shooters are newcomers. But the leaders have pulled the trigger a time or two.” “And the taps?” “They're still dialing some of them in.” Mindy blushed. “Stan asked Castillo if he could shift some over to the Kings because they talk more.” “Good thinking on Stan's part. He can run that stuff any way he likes. So long as we're getting good information from it.” “He's trying to get a guy on tape. He got him once, but it's a ten second call and he doesn't say much. Sounds like a white guy, though.” “Probably an arms dealer.” “He's looking for Hernan as well. That guy's been pretty scarce since the shooting started.” “If they need money for guns, he'll pop up soon enough. Especially when Tubbs and I start leaning on Nicky.” “How is Rico?” “He's hangin' in there.” Sonny almost stopped, but saw something in her eyes. “He never really knew the boy. I think he only actually saw him once. It was more the dream he was hanging onto. That and grief from the death of her mother.” He told her the whole sorry Calderone tale in as short a version as he could create. “So he'll be good,” he finished. “Angry, but good.” “I'm glad.” Something flashed in her eyes, but she turned away before Sonny could get a solid look. Castillo and Trudy were the next to arrive, surrounded in the soft glow Sonny had come to expect when he saw them together. Trudy was radiant, looking beautiful with her hair down and wearing a bright green dress leaving little to the imagination. Castillo was wearing his same dark suit and skinny leather tie, but he looked...happy. Almost beaming himself. Sonny hid his own smile. Given what those two had been through it was impossible for him not to be happy for them. “I won't be here all day, Sonny.” Castillo poured coffee for himself and Trudy. “And I won't be in your way.” “To hell with that, Marty. This is your task force. I can stand in for the field operations, but it's your unit and your call.” He quickly briefed Castillo about what Mindy had told him. “And I expect Tubbs within the hour,” he finished. “Stan and Lester...I don't worry so long as someone doesn't report a giant cockroach peeking in their bathroom window. And Dave and Randy need their sleep. We'll have to pick out new target areas for them, though. Mindy says they wrapped up the perimeter last night.” “Still nothing from Nicky?” “No. Tubbs is gonna lean on him tonight if he doesn't page today.” “Good. We need to push them into the open to bring Doc out.” Castillo looked at the map. “You were right, Sonny. We missed the real center. Doc's somewhere in the heart of Treys territory. With his own people around him.” “Yeah. Someone that careful isn't going to rely on hired guns.” Trudy stared at the map. “It still feels like we're missing something.” “We don't know where the China White comes from. That's a big gap. I'd guess he's running his own supply chain or we would have heard about something before this. Runs his own supply, contracts out distribution. Smart.” It was what I did with the Manolo cartel. And losing transportation is what brought Burnett down. “He picked out the weakest link and covered it. You can always find dealers. Reliable transportation is something else again.” “Trudy, you and Mindy get the port records. Go back at least three years. We're looking for ships with Southeast Asian ports of call. Thailand or Cambodia in particular. I'd say smaller vessels, not the big container ships.” Castillo stared at the map, seeing a different city spread out before him. “We're looking for patterns. He might not own the ships himself, but he knows the person who does. Shell companies. But with a common source.” Trudy nodded. “We'll get on it. I've got computer support and access, but it will take some time.” Sonny smiled. “Do what you can. The chief deputy might have some stuff, too. And check with Customs. They still owe us from the OCB days, let alone what we did with Moncado. That coke must have pegged their quotas for the year, let alone the month. Coast Guard, too. They might have a ship or two of interest already in mind.” Rico's eyes might have told the tale of last night, but his suit was immaculate and he kept his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. But Sonny could tell by his walk that his partner was feeling some pain. Gone was the light saunter, instead he chose each step carefully. He looked around the conference room. “Why's it so damned bright in here?” Sonny laughed, then winced as his own head reminded him he wasn't immune. “Try two of these.” He tossed the aspirin bottle to Tubbs, who just managed to catch it. “That and Stan's coffee can work miracles.” Castillo shook his head. “Are you ready for duty, detective?” Tubbs nodded, slowly so as not to aggravate what must be a pounding headache. “Yes, lieutenant. So long as duty ain't loud or bright, at least for now.” Sonny quickly filled Rico in. “And with a body count of four from last night,” he finished, “you can bet Metro-Dade's gonna be clomping around out their in the big boots. Not really doing much, but keeping the natives restless and making our job harder.” “Any word on Nicky? He still hasn't paged.” Trudy shook her head. “Stan says his name's coming up in chatter, but nothing big. He's still waiting for Hernan to show.” “We can try Rizzo's tonight and see if the little maggot is there.” Sonny winced and rubbed his temples. “Assuming my head don't explode before then.” Castillo nodded. “Keep at it. Sonny? A word?” Sonny shut the office door behind them, noticing Castillo slid into his chair behind the desk. “It's good to see you back where you belong, Marty.” “You're doing a fine job. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially yourself.” Castillo looked out the window for a time, and Sonny wondered for the millionth time what was going on inside his head. The man was a blank if you looked at him, his face passive and unreadable. Unless he wanted you to see something. When he spoke, his voice was low. “I've been thinking about things. I think it's time we put Trudy and Stan in for promotions. Lester, too, in a couple of months.” “I couldn't agree more, lieutenant. Hell, Trudy should have made sergeant months ago. Maybe years. And Stan...” He shook his head. “I was wrong about him, Marty. He's as good as they come. Maybe better. We wouldn't be where we are without those two.” “I'm glad you agree. I was afraid I was too close to Trudy to make a fair call. And given your history with Switek...” “That was all on me. I screwed up, and his partner paid the price. Stan did the best he could with the shitty situation I left him in. The fact that he stuck it out tells me all I need to know about him.” Sonny sat down with a wry grin. “And anyone who can come back from having a LAW fired at them deserves a promotion.” “Lester joined us late, so that's why I'm delaying his.” “I agree. If you want I can explain it to him.” “No. It's my call, so I'll do the explaining.” Marty turned back to the window. “One thing about being in charge, being a leader. You can't have someone else do the hard jobs for you. That's always on you. If you're really a leader.” “Can we do anything for the deputies? Hell, we'd still be treading water somewhere in the Everglades right now if they weren't with us.” “I think so. I've talked with Chief Deputy Washington and he agrees with us. He'll do everything he can to push paperwork through.” Sonny chuckled. “He's a character.” “He is. He's got a solid reputation.” Castillo turned back from the window. “They say he was a bit of a cowboy in his field days. Worked some nasty prisoner recoveries in Harlem in the '70s. Alone. They let him handpick his team down here, and you see the results.” “We're lucky to be working with him.” “We are.” Castillo looked down at the papers on the desk as if seeing them for the first time. “So much of this has been about luck.” Sonny shook his head. He'd never seen Marty quite like this before, and it bothered him. No, bothered wasn't the right word. It worried him. But not in a bad way. He couldn't put a word on it. “I don't follow.” “Trudy and I. Maynard missing anything vital when he shot me. Stan and Lester surviving the LAW. That tape.” Castillo shook his head. “All coming from luck. Not anything we did or didn't do. Do you ever think about how much we really owe to luck?” “Every day.” He reached up, touching her ring again through his shirt. “It was luck that brought Caitlin and I together. You could have sent Tubbs on that assignment. It was luck that brought me back here when you were forming the Task Force. I almost didn't come back, you know.” He shook his head. “Of course, so much of my luck runs bad it's hard to tell the difference sometimes. But yeah, I think about luck every day.” He chuckled. “And if I'm the bad luck magnet that keeps it away from the rest of you, then it's good luck I'm here.” His head stabbed at him in protest, and he winced behind his own sunglasses. “And then there's Rico. What kind of luck is it that lets you hear your own son be killed and then his killing avenged by a man you hated?” Castillo shook his head. “That question's above even my pay grade, Sonny. How is he?” “Hungover, but I think he'll be ok. We stopped by to see Robbie yesterday and that helped.” Sonny smiled. “Robbie's a good friend that way.” “He's a good man. It's good you made things right with him.” “Yeah, it really is.” Sonny nodded, even though the movement made his head scream in protest. “Oh, I meant to tell you. I got a call from Caitlin's old assistant yesterday. Angie. We're going to turn her house into a youth recovery center. I should have thought of that years ago, honestly. I gave her Gina's number to see about some possible candidates.” “That's a big step.” “I'm not gonna run the place. She's got someone in mind, I think. Angie, I mean. Sounds like she's been thinking about it for a while now.” He touched the ring again. “It just feels strange, though. Like I'm letting go of part of her again.” “No. You're bringing her dream to life. Never forget that, Sonny. By doing this you honor her and her memory.” “Yeah. I suppose I should tell her, though.” He sat up straight, realizing he'd spoken the words out loud. Castillo read his movements. “There's nothing strange about that, Sonny. I don't judge. Not after the things I saw in the Laotian highlands. Or some of the Thai villages. So much of the world is beyond our understanding.” “Thanks, Marty. I...I should do that today.” “Take the time you need. It will help you focus. And we need to be focused.” He turned and looked back out the window, but Sonny knew he wasn't seeing the skyline. “All of us.” Back in the conference room Sonny found Rico squinting at his pager with a look of absolute annoyance. “Damned that little worm. It's too early in the morning to be paging people.” “Nicky finally crawl out of his hole?” “Yeah.” Tubbs grimaced. “I really don't want to hear him whine right now.” Sonny pointed to the phone. “Make the call. Lean on the little puke.” “Yeah. I'll call him from the airport again.” Tubbs hit buttons and punched in the number like a pro. “What the hell you want, Nicky?” He grimaced again. “So you can't get fifty? Can you get the twenty-five? Hell, can you get anything aside from the clap that nasty stripper probably laid on you?” Sonny almost spit coffee across the table. Rico was in rare form. “No, chump. You listen! I've about had it with you damned hayseeds down here yanking my chain and almost getting me killed! Twenty-five is as low as we go in terms of weight. We'll pay top dollar if it's that Red Cross stuff, but that's it. No negotiating. I don't care how many damned books you read about it. This is New York style. My offer's the ONLY one on the table! You've got two days, and if I don't hear from you about a meet and buy I'm out of here. And then you can explain to Burnett how you screwed up his end of the deal.” Tubbs slammed down the phone with a smile. “That felt good.” Sonny started a slow clap. “Nicely played, partner. I wonder how much he wet his pants with that one?” “Judging from the squeak he let out when I mentioned Burnett I think he shit his pants for good measure.” Rico leaned back in the chair, sighing and rubbing his temples. “Maybe I pushed the little chump too hard.” “No.” Once again Castillo had managed to open the office door and approach the table without being noticed. “You hit that perfectly. Nicky's a minnow pretending to be a shark. You just reminded him of his place. Now he'll start pushing his contact, and we should see Hernan soon.” “Good. I was starting to feel like they were playing us.” “No, Rico.” Sonny looked at the map again. “There's bigger things at play here, and we're just on the edges. The Kings and Treys are busy fighting off two Columbian gangs, and at least one of them's also worried about protecting Doc and his supply lines. And someone's upgunning at least the Treys, and we know the Kings are trying to raise money for more guns. We're just little yappy dogs on the edges of this dog fight.” “Do you have a plan if Nicky doesn't call?” Sonny nodded, regretting the movement as his head pounded in protest. “I just made one up. Burnett can go lean on him while we roll out Teddy Prentiss to approach the Treys. Nicky's not dealing with them as far as we can tell, and I think Rico might still have an in or two with them.” “It's been years, but I...I mean Teddy...did know one or two dealers on the edges of their organization. Pot mostly, but we did move coke once or twice. They'd know me as a flashy but careful Island guy who moves mostly small amounts of product.” Castillo nodded. “Good. We use that if we have to ditch Nicky.” Sonny looked at Rico. “It's slower, but it'll work if we have to go that way.” “Yeah. The Dominicans I was dealing with are still in play, at least according to Dave and Randy's reports. They were using street names, but I know their faces, mon.” He chuckled, lapsing into Teddy mode. “I'll make some moves down around the Hilton, just so I show up on the radar. Better they know I'm in town before I just show up on their doorstep.” “There's buy money if you need it.” Castillo smiled. “We have a deep line of credit after the Moncado bust. They're still counting the money they pulled out of his house and his yacht.” “Well, well, well!” Sonny and Rico winced in unison as Stan's voice boomed through the room. “Look what the cat dragged in! You two girls feeling ok?” “Stuff it, Stan.” Sonny chuckled. “Unless you want me to take the Roach Coach away.” “Aw, come on, Sonny. You wouldn't do that.” “Try me.” The he laughed again. “Nice work with that switch to the Kings, Stan. You and Lester got that sewn up yet?” “Just finished up. Lester's down in the garage making some adjustments to Marilyn's settings so we can get the boom mike to work further out. And we hooked up that unit for listening to the hand-helds the Treys are using.” Stan ran a thick hand through his sweaty hair, making it stick up in all directions. “Man, it's already too damned hot out there!” “Rico just finished sweating Nicky, speaking of heat. You might see him start popping up on the Kings taps. Keep an eye out for him and Hernan.” “You got it, Sonny. Tape's rolling now. Takes time to go through, but I got a fix on some of the numbers that usually talk about Nicky, so it'll go faster now.” The big hand ran through the hair again, patting it down as if nothing had happened. “I'll be in the Tech Room if you girls need anything.”

In which some of the Echoes from the past are revealed and laid to rest... Sonny shot awake with a start, wondering for a handful of heartbeats where he was. Then the kink in his neck hit with full force and he realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch in Castillo's office. Out in the conference room the lights were still on, waiting for him to come back and stare at the map some more. “So much for just sitting for a minute,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and reaching for his cigarettes. “Guess I'd better shut this shit down and get out of here.” Trailing smoke behind him, he walked out and stared at the map. He was starting to reach for the light switches when he stopped. Maybe jamming his neck up had shaken something loose in his brain, but he thought he was starting to see a pattern. Some kind of method in the dots marking known dealers or spots where Red Cross had shown up on the edges of the Dominican neighborhoods. “Tio was the wild card.” He took a deep drag on the Lucky Strike and held the smoke in his lungs. “Damn it! He was the one pushing things.” Grabbing Trudy's map key, he started circling dealers who were known to work only for the 8-Ball Kings or Double Treys. The rest were smoke, hiding the real action behind their fog. There'd always be some who sold outside their territory, or who tried to make a little extra by pushing the envelope. But the dead bodies Vallencio had tracked told him Doc had his limits, and if you exceeded them he reined you in. Permanently. It was a damned good way to send a message of moderation. He was done with the cigarette before he was done circling dots, but he didn't want to stop to light another one. It was starting to make sense, like it had when he was staring at the pictures of houses back when the squad was chasing a nutjob burglar. The circles started to form a line, coming straight out of the heart of Double Treys territory and fanning out over the neighborhood. But there was no way the Double Treys controlled the trade. It spread too wide, too fast for that. And Sonny didn't think they'd stop it as precisely as Doc had. No, someone knew just how much he could move without drawing attention, and spread it out enough to make his trail hard to follow. “John was right,” he muttered, putting down his pencil and digging in his blazer pocket for the pack of Luckies. “This guy does act like a cop. Or he knows how we think and is taking countermeasures. But now I've got your zone, pal.” Looking at the pattern of attacks, he could tell the Columbians didn't. They were hitting the Kings hard, although the Blancos split their attention between the two. So far the Columbians were winning. They had more firepower and each attack shut down part of the Dominicans' trade. Looking at the map, Sonny could almost feel Doc out there, watching and waiting like some kind of damned spider in his web. He knew the man would strike back. It was only a question of how and when. Sonny shook his head. “You won't go straight at 'em, Doc. You're too smart for that. Too careful. But you could use the Dominicans as tools, especially the Double Treys. You got some kind of understanding with them, some kinda tie. But what?” “That map ain't gonna talk back, partner.” Sonny almost jumped. “Damn it, Rico! Knock next time.” “I couldn't sleep, either.” Rico looked...rumpled. His normally creased shirt was wrinkled and his tie hung loose down his chest. “Too much spinnin' in my head. Didn't feel like club company, so I headed here.” “I fell asleep on Castillo's couch.” Sonny chuckled. “Damn thing messed up my neck, but I think it cleared my head.” He told Rico what he'd seen. Rico nodded, his eyes showing he wasn't quite convinced yet. “Makes sense as far as it goes. But why does this Doc hold back? If he was a cop...” “He'd know just what he can get away with. Maybe he's not your normal greedy dealer. Maybe he just likes being...I don't know...comfortable. He'd make decent money off that Red Cross, more than enough to be comfortable in this town, and if that's all he wants, he stays under the radar. And if he's got an exclusive supplier, he can bring in just enough to do that. Or maybe it's the supplier who wants to stay low. Doc obliges because...why not? He's making good money and his product's unique in Miami. Always in demand.” “It makes a kind of sense, I guess.” Sonny could see Rico wasn't totally convinced yet. “I just never ran into a dealer like that before.” “There's always a first time. Maybe he's like one of those old pot heads who only sells his secret bud to his friends or something.” “Maybe.” Rico smiled. “Maybe. Ok, you got me. But we still gotta find the chump.” “Yeah, or he'll show himself to us. Right now the Columbians are mostly hurting the Kings, although they've hit a couple of Treys dealers. It looks like Doc deals more through the Treys if you line up the dealers, so he'll have to hit back somehow if they lose much more. I don't think he'll do it himself, but he might have connections that could help the Dominicans.” “So we just wait? That's gonna go over well with Randy and Dave.” “Not much longer, though. I got a feeling, Tubbs. This one's about to break open.” He looked at the map and shook his head. “I just wish I knew how.” “What say we call it a night?” Tubbs looked at his watch. “Hell, I mean an early morning.” “Sounds like a plan. I need to go check in at that hotel Mindy set Burnett up in, anyhow. Now's as good a time as any. Need to swing by the boat and grab fresh clothes, though.” Rico picked up on his reluctance. “Avoiding Jenny?” “I wish I knew, Rico. I ran her again, and that boat that could be hers showed up again on the Customs watch list. But her sheet's still clean.” “Yeah. I've got a perfectly good number from a really pretty waitress sitting on the hotel night stand, but I won't call her.” Rico smiled. “You know why?” “Because you don't want her falling for Teddy Prentiss. I've been there, partner. Too many times. But with Jenny we might be playing each other.” Rico nodded, and then glanced toward the office. “Has there been any word...?” “No, and you know I'd tell you as soon as I hear anything. Good or bad. That's a promise, Rico.” It was a little past noon the next day when Sonny Crockett rolled into the front office. “Sorry I'm late, Mindy. Had a late night with that damned map and then decided to start the hotel thing going.” “Tubbs just got here, and Stan and Lester headed back out to work on taps. He said they've only got a couple more and they're good to go.” She smiled. “Rico already told me about the map. I saw your circles when I came, and I think you're onto something. I went ahead and added another tap in the Treys zone. I hope...” “Good thinking, Mindy. My brain was too cooked last night to think of that.” He looked toward the closed door. “How did Dave and Randy do last night?” “Another shooting, but this time it was Treys who took out a gunman they think was a Blanco. But I think they want to tell you about it. Randy does, at least. He's waiting in the conference room.” She lowered her voice. “Castillo's in the office, and Trudy looks upset.” “Shit.” The single word bit hard as it came out of Crockett's mouth. “I'll check with Randy and then see what's up.” Randy looked up when Sonny walked in. “Good to see you finally got some sleep, boss. You're gonna need it.” Sonny ignored the closed door to Castillo's office. “What's up? Mindy said something happened last night.” “Yeah. One of the punks from the Blancos tried to hit a dealer here” - Randy pointed to the map - “but got whacked by two gunmen from the Treys. That ain't unusual in itself, but here's the kicker. They used MAC-10s.” “I didn't think they had that kind of firepower.” “They didn't. Until last night.” Randy tapped a finger on the table. “Those were the only ones we saw, and we were in position for almost eight hours, so either they don't have many. Or...” “It was a test. And they're gonna buy more. But from who?” “That's above my pay grade. But I'd say it was a test based on how they were jumpin' around after they whacked the shooter.” “I gotta see if Stan picked up anything on those taps we had on Holmes.” “I asked before they headed out. They got nothing. But they've never heard Holmes talk business on those lines.” Randy shrugged. “He also ain't the only arms dealer in town.” “Yeah. I just wanted to check the rat we know before looking for new ones.” Sonny was about to go on when the door opened and Dave walked in. “What's so all-fired important? I was damned near asleep when I got your page.” “I didn't page you.” Sonny looked over at Randy. “Don't look at me, boss. I don't fuck with a man's sleep.” “I paged you.” Castillo's whisper cut through the banter like a chainsaw through a spiderweb. “Sonny, get Rico. Dave, you come with them. I want all three of you in here in five minutes. We're about to have company.” Martin Castillo was a master of silence. He wove it like a web, either comforting or crushing depending on the need and his mood. Right now he was leaning toward comforting, but that could change in a heartbeat. He sat behind the desk, his three men spread out in chairs or on the couch. He could see Sonny whispering to Trudy but wasn't worried. She was better after their walk last night, though the phone call started her worrying again. Even though Mindy had patched it through, he made a note to change his home number as soon as they were done today. The intercom buzzed. “Lieutenant.” Mindy's bright voice sounded tinny through the cheap speaker. “He's here.” “Send him in.” Castillo waited until the youngish man with brown hair and hazel eyes came in. He was wearing the plain suit that screamed 'official' even though it pretended not to, and Castillo could see a bulge under his left armpit. He had a thick folder under his arm, with a loose reel of tape on top of it. On the couch, Dave did a double-take. “Steve? Is that you?” The man from the CIA blinked, but otherwise did a good job of hiding his recognition. Castillo was impressed. “Uncle Dave? Yes, it's me. I finally got a job.” “But the CIA, son? Dear God.” Steve Blair let his face show a thin smile. “I'm starting to find that out.” Castillo noticed the distance in the hazel eyes, a look that came from seeing too much too soon or too young. But he could also sense a strength there, something that went beyond age and came from deep inside. “And since they only send agents just off the Farm or those who aren't in favor as errand boys, that should tell you where I sit right now.” “What did Jacobs say?” Castillo used his voice to effect, drawing the room to him as if he'd set off a grenade instead of a whisper. “He said this pays for Moncado.” Blair set the file on the desk. “But I think you'll want to listen to this first.” “Explain.” Castillo looked at the tape. So Jacobs wanted to hold out on me. I won't forget it. “I was on the range at Quantico after my last field assignment. Istanbul is a dump, just so you know. Anyhow, there were these guys shooting next to me. Older guys, but really tearing the place up. We got to talking, and it turns out they were from Delta Force. They were doing some kind of joint thing with the Feebs. But the next day, after Jacobs gave me the file, one of the older ones catches me in the parking lot. Away from the cameras. He said his old code name was Moneybags and that Castillo would remember him. I was to give you the tape and this note.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a page torn from a field notebook. Castillo read it aloud. “Marty. You remember RT Python out of CCN? We never forgot you on that trail in Laos. The Company won't want you to hear this, but I owe you. My boys were watching that house and we had bugs in place. We had orders not to move, no matter what happened. The guy had Nungs. And they followed their orders to the letter. Take care. Moneybags.” Sonny shook his head. “CCN? Isn't that SOG?” “Yes.” Castillo remembered that trail all too well, and the RT that had been surrounded by almost a company of NVA before Castillo hit them from the rear with his Hmong tribesmen. They'd just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and it had kept the RT from being overrun. It also may have had something to do with his transfer south to Saigon, but he felt it was worth any price to save an RT. Rico got to his feet. “Is that the file?” “Yes. But if Moneybags says we should listen to the tape first, it's what we'll do.” He looked at Rico, his eyes intense and hot. “Are you ready for this, Rico? Good or bad?” Tubbs swallowed, a wave of emotions spilling over his face. “Yes, lieutenant.” Reaching into the wide file drawer of the desk, Castillo pulled out a reel-to-reel machine and threaded the tape. Before he hit play he looked at Blair. “Do you want to stay for this?” “Yes.” There was no hesitation. “I want to see what these people can do” The tape started with a jumble of voices and what sounded like a child crying in the background. Rico flinched, but Castillo quieted him with a look. He kept his eyes focused on the revolving plastic reels. “They're fighting.” He translated the Spanish smoothly, condensing if it wasn't important. “They don't like being in the mountains, away from culture and the city. One of them, I think it's Orlando's sister, blames the child. Why won't the damn cop's bastard child shut up? One of the other women tries to calm her, but she won't listen. She keeps yelling. It's that damn brat's fault we're in this mess. I'll...” A pistol boomed loud and Rico came off the couch. He was about to shout when the recording continued. This time it was a man's voice. Nasal and clipped. Needing no translation. “Look what you've done, you stupid bitch. You just killed your family's only way out of this. A cop's son was your meal ticket. But you inbred mountain hags are too stupid to see the opportunity you'd been given.” There was a pause, then three worlds in Vietnamese. Castillo translated. “Kill them all.” The tape ended with a roar of automatic weapons, almost drowned out by Ricardo Tubbs sobbing on the couch. Blair's face showed his struggle to reconcile what he'd heard with Rico's reaction. “Was that...” “That was them killing his son. And then William Maynard having the entire Calderone family put down. That's what Moneybags meant when he said Nungs. Mercenaries of Chinese extraction. Ferocious fighters. And they follow their orders to the letter. Just like he said.” Castillo shut off the machine. “The Calderone family no longer exists. They would have seen to that.” He didn't look at the couch, where Sonny and Trudy were doing their best to comfort Rico. At least Sonny knows what it's like to lose a child. I'd not wish that knowledge on any man, but it will help him reach Rico. And Rico will need him right now. I have to come back. “So you're saying the CIA knew all along where his son was?” “Yes.” The look that passed over Blair's face was familiar. It was the same one Martin Castillo had felt on his own face when he realized his team had been set up. That Jack Gretzky and he were both marked for death in those mountains by their own comrades, men who'd put power and wealth above duty and honor. It was the face of a man who was about to walk away. And then Martin remembered a talk he'd recently had with another covert warrior. Another Marine as it happened. “I can't stay there.” “Do it for now. Go along. Play their game.” Castillo slid a card across the table. “Give me a secure number where you can be reached that they don't monitor. Someone will be in touch.” Standing, he walked around the desk and over to the couch. Rico looked up, his face twisted with grief and shattered dreams. “That was Maynard, wasn't it?” “Yes. And they killed all of them. It may not be worth much, but there is no longer a Calderone family. The Nungs saw to that. And he had them killed because they killed your son.” He reached down and touched Rico's shoulder. “Now you know. For good or bad.” Looking up, he made eye contact with everyone except Sonny. “We'll give them the room.” Try as he might, Ricardo Tubbs couldn't forget the utter contempt and hate in the Calderone woman's voice right before she shot his son. The son he'd never see again, never get to hold. And never get to bury. And the thought he owed his vengeance to William Maynard, the man who'd nearly killed Castillo, was almost more than he could stand. He felt the tears running down his cheeks and imagined he could hear his father's mocking laugh. Laugh it up, you old shit. I'm sure you bawled like a big fat baby when Rafael went down. He felt Sonny's arms around him and smiled through the tears. At least he knows what it's like... “I got you, partner. I got you.” Sonny's voice was steady. “Just let it out, man. You don't want to hold that in. It'll tear you apart.” “I...I guess I always knew he was dead. I never felt anything, you know? Any feeling he was alive out there somewhere.” He shook his head. “The worst part is knowing Maynard squared the account. Maynard of all people.” “I saw Nungs a time or two when I was in Nam. They worked with Special Forces a lot. Spooks, too. They were seriously scary. No one messed with them. You can bet that whole damned family died hard. They'd go back through and shoot them in the head twice just to make sure. If he told them to kill them all, they killed them all. No question.” “But he was just a baby...” “Just like Caitlin was my wife. And Will hadn't even been born yet. Psychos like that don't think. They just want to hurt you any way they can. All that bitch saw when she looked at Rico Junior was something that meant the end of her way of life. All the luxury. But Maynard made sure that choice ended hers and her whole damned family with her.” “But why was he there?” Rico sniffed, feeling the tears drying on his cheeks. “What the hell was a spook doing there?” “It might be in the files. Just look for a name with black marker though it and you can bet it's Maynard's.” Sonny snorted. “Who the hell knows what the Company was doing buddied up with the Calderones? Maybe they said they were anti-Communist or something. We can look through it together and see, but later, pal. Later. Right now you just need to take it all in.” Sonny smiled, but it didn't touch his eyes. “Maybe sometimes it is better not knowing.” “No. Marty was right, like he always is. It's better that I know. That I know my heart was right and that my head was making up all these damned cute dreams. I can at least bury him in my heart. Those sons of bitches can't take that away from me.” He chuckled, but it was a sick sound. “And Maynard might have redeemed some small part of himself up in those mountains. He didn't do it for the right reasons, but still...” “Ironic, ain't it? He'd be pissed as hell if he knew we found out.” Sonny grinned, and Rico could see it was real this time. “You gonna be ok, partner?” “Eventually. Yeah, I will be eventually. Just not today.” He pointed to the folder on the desk. “You mind if we look through that? I want to see if there's any pictures...” “Sure, Rico. We can do that. Let me let the lieutenant know we'll be busy for a bit.” “We can go to our office. I feel bad hogging his couch.” Rico sniffed again, nodding his thanks when Sonny handed him a tissue from the box on Castillo's desk. “Thanks, partner. It ain't gonna be easy, but I want to look through this now. While that tape's still in my mind.” Castillo's face was the first thing he saw when they opened the door. “I want both of you to take a day, maybe two. I'll run things until you get back. You need to work through this, Rico. If Nicky pages, pass it off to Crockett. We can stall him or come up with another plan.”” Rico thought about protesting, his pride ruffled, until he thought back to the single pistol shot. “You're right, lieutenant. I do need to sort it out. Thanks.” “Your partner will be there to help. This isn't something you should do alone.” Nodding, not trusting his voice, Rico shook his hand. He slapped Dave on the shoulder and turned to the his nephew. “Thank you for bringing this. Especially that tape. I...I needed to know.” Then he turned. “It's good, Trudy. Sonny and I can work this through.” In the end he only kept the tape with Maynard's speech and the roar of what Dave identified as CAR-15s. It took a few hours, but he and Sonny managed to put together a picture of what had happened. Calderone, it wasn't clear which one, had been brokering drugs for weapons as part of some shady CIA scheme, and Maynard had been sent to sort things out in the aftermath of the St. Gerard firefight. Maynard wasn't their usual CIA contact, but no one seemed to notice in the confusion of moving from the city to the mountain villa. Sonny snorted, lighting his third cigarette. “Damned Company always trying to outsmart itself. I wonder how much money Calderone made selling them their own M-16s?” “Or how many good people and cops died because of the coke they helped him move?” Rico threw the file down in disgust. “Cops like my brother.” “And Eddie Rivera. Too many.” “Still...I'll always wonder. What would it have been like to have a son? To hold him in my arms? Watch him grow up.” “You still can, partner.” Sonny laughed, but Rico could see the pain in his eyes. “I missed that with both my sons. Billy because...well...just because. And Hackman made sure I had no chance with Will. But there's still time. You meet the right lady there's all the time in the world.” “Yeah.” But Rico wasn't sure. Not down where it mattered. Maybe Sonny could keep going. Hell, he seemed determined to find someone new, even if he didn't realize it. But Rico wasn't wired that way. Watching his parents' marriage fall apart in slow motion had done something to him, and then the whole prolonged mess with Valerie. He'd been so sure she was the one, finding excuse after excuse to take her back and justify everything she did, even when he couldn't explain it to himself. And his fleeting moment with Angelina, more a dream than anything real. The one real thing it produced dead over five years now. Still, he knew there was truth in what Sonny said. But it would take time to get there. Looking down at the scattered papers he sighed. “Let's get out of here, partner. I'm thinking drinks and carry-out in Casa Cooper.” “Your call, partner. It's your time now.” Once the two men had moved to the office Tubbs and Crockett shared, Martin Castillo walked to the conference table. “Dave, if you'd like some time with your nephew the afternoon's yours. I just want to get up to speed. I'm sure Crockett has all of you working on some aspect of the case. Let me know if you need any resources. Otherwise I won't change his assignments.” They all drifted away from the table as soon as it was decent to do so. Except Trudy. She stayed close, and he could feel her watching him. Finally he spoke. “Rico will be fine. In time. We just need to give him that time.” “I know. I was watching you. You knew what had happened, didn't you?” “No. But I could guess. I know how the Company likes to tie up loose ends.” “Who was Moneybags?” He told her about the trail in Laos. “Those teams were out on the very edge of radio range. Support could be minutes or even hours away. Jess, Ti Ti and I happened to be in the area with a strike force of Hmong, the Laotian tribesmen. The team needed our help, so we went. I ran into him later in Da Nang when I was processing out, moving south to the Delta. That was how the Company 'thanked' me for saving the team. He was on his last extension, I think.” He shook his head. “Quite a few of those SOG men ended up in Delta. It's a small world when you're in that dark corner of it.” “Are you ok?” He stood for a time. Thinking. “Yes. Death is something Rico understands. This may sound cruel, but I'd worry more if the boy was still alive.” “So would I.” She moved closer to him, wanting to touch him but unsure. He put his arm around her. “They all know, Trudy. It just insults them to pretend otherwise now.” “What do you think of what Sonny found?” “I think he's right. We missed it through all the smoke Tio put up when he tried to expand the business. I think if we hadn't have killed him this Doc would have. It fits the pattern. Go too far away from home, get too greedy, and he has you terminated.” “And now the Dominicans have MAC-10s. At least two of them.” “Likely there will be more. I'd say it's Doc's way of leveling the playing field. Have you reached out to ATF?” “They say they're looking into it. I think they were more surprised than we were to see them, honestly.” She smiled. “They're still adjusting to the fact that the Columbians have Tech 9s that can fire full-auto.” “We need to move faster.” Castillo stared at the map. “Find a way inside and push. But the only way in...” “Needs Tubbs. That moron Nicky.” “I'll try to give him as much time as he needs. But if Nicky pages we may have to bring him in.” “He'll come in, Marty. We're all he has left now.” Castillo just nodded. He knew Trudy's words were true. At one time he'd been the same way. Then he thought of the man chosen to be the errand boy. “What did you think of Dave's nephew?” “He's deep.” Trudy closed her eyes, and Castillo knew she was thinking. Tapping into that inner part that made her a great detective. “Driven. You look at his eyes and you know he's seen maybe too much, too fast. But there's something else going on, too. He's an idealist.” She opened her eyes and smiled. “He reminds me of you in that way.” “I know. And maybe I can give him a way out.” Castillo reached in his trousers pocket, feeling the card Blair had written on. “Maybe this will give him a way to become what he wants to be.” “Task Force?” “No. Something like it but different. I didn't ask.” And Marty knew his old friend wouldn't have told him in any case. It was the way of that world. He also didn't want to tell Trudy he'd been offered a position but turned it down. Mostly for her, but also because he wanted to make his difference locally. His friend had laughed, calling him a dreamer, but respected the position. Still, he'd asked Marty to keep his eyes open and send the right people his way. Today he guessed he'd met one of those right people. Mindy came through the outer door. “Lieutenant, Dave and his nephew just left. He wanted me to tell you he'll be back when he can.” She looked nervous, wringing her hands and avoiding his gaze. “It's ok, Mindy. This has been a rough day for everyone. I think Trudy and I can manage if you want to take an early day. Tubbs and Crockett are going through a file and they'll leave when they're done, I think.” She nodded. “I think I'll do that. And lieutenant, tell Detective Tubbs I'm sorry.” He nodded, and in seconds she was gone. Trudy laughed. “She's a tough one.” “I'd expect nothing less from South Boston Irish.” Castillo allowed himself a thin smile. “But she's also smart. She'll go far, provided she stays with us and the task force keeps winning. As soon as we lose, someone will try to close us down. Bureaucrats hate nothing more than unconventional success.” Trudy looked at the closed office door. “Should we wait for them?” “No. They'll go when Tubbs is ready.” Castillo looked at her and smiled. A real smile, for the first time in hours. “Right now I'd really like to hear you play piano. If you're up for it, of course.” She smiled back, and he could see tears forming in her eyes. Small diamonds in the deep brown pools he loved. “I'd love to. Then we can walk on the beach again. But you have to teach me some Vietnamese. Mi amor just doesn't have the same feel.” “It does when you say it.” He took her in his arms, just holding her. Feeling her against him. Earl Lester Holmes didn't know what the hell Red did to his burgers down at Red's Diner, but they were good enough to lure him out of his bar in the heat of the day. Taking a bite of the thick cheeseburger he grinned and looked at Benny. “So they bought 'em?” “Just like you figured, boss. That Treys bunch coughed up a grand each for the two MAC-10s, an' after what I heard on the scanner last night I think they'll be back for more.” “Good. Start 'em off with a bang and get the attention of those Federals that are creepin' around.” He reached down and stuffed four thick-cut fries in his mouth. “What about that other bunch?” “The Kings?” Benny snorted, munching on his own burger. They sat toward the back, away from tables full of truckers and loitering truck stop hookers. Holmes knew Red had bills to pay, but some of them girls stank to high heaven. Stale grease or stale skank. If the burgers weren't so damned good I'd never set foot in here. The smells reminded him of Saigon, and that wasn't always good, either. “Yeah, the Kings or whatever they call their fool selves.” “They're wantin' the Tech 9s like you thought, boss, but seems they're havin' to scratch to make the price. Their honcho said he'd call me back once he worked a couple deals out.” “Shit. I don't want to lower the price none, but if this is gonna work they need those damned guns.” He thought for a time, chewing more burger and looking with disgust at the tables near the door. “Look, Benny. Close the deal with the Treys. They bring the cash, they get the MAC-10s. If you don't hear from the Kings in a couple of days, drop the price when they do call. Not much, mind. Maybe a hundred per gun. I ain't gonna make it easy for 'em.” “You sure this'll work, boss?” “You questionin' me, Benny?” “No, boss. Not at all. I just...” He dropped his burger on his plate. “It's too damned deep for me boss, that's what it is. I know you know best. Hell, you always do.” Holmes chuckled. Benny was an outstanding errand boy. One of the best. And dogged as a bloodhound on a scent when you sent him to work a deal. But thinking wasn't his strong suit. “It's like this, Benny. If all those spics start shootin' automatic weapons all over hell and gone there's gonna be pressure to shut 'em down and fast. That means all kinds of cops. Including their best. And I figure they'd only send their best after the colonel. No one local's been able to make a dent in this war yet, so if things start happening that means our boys are on the job. And that's when we draw 'em out.” “How we gonna do that?” Holmes wasn't quite sure yet, but he had a few ideas. “You'll know when it's time, Benny.” “Right, boss.” Benny turned back to his burger, his mind seemingly at ease. “I'll close them deals just like you said. No problem.” Holmes just nodded, looking forward to a chance to finish his burger and fries without any more interruptions. Selling to the Dominicans paid a few bills, though he still wondered about Doc's involvement in it. But not too much. They moved in different worlds, always had. But the deal was going to help him in more ways that it could help Doc. He was sure of that much.

It might slow down a bit while I plot out one or two things... “Can you believe that chump?” Tubbs glared at Izzy from behind his sunglasses. “Yeah, Rico. I can. He's been doin' this for almost ten years now. Maybe more. And now we've got a name to bounce off Vallencio and our intel ladies.” Sonny turned back toward the Ferrari. “I was going to just call John, but why don't we just stop by?” Nothing had changed in the Metro-Dade Narcotics office. Desks still sat empty, fans labored against thick humidity, and John Vallencio still sat at his desk working files. He grinned when Sonny and Rico walked in. “Back again? That file help at all.” “Actually it did, John. Filled in some big gaps. We think we might have found a way into the Dominicans. You know anyone in those gangs named Hernan?” “Five or six, actually. You got anything else?” Sonny nodded. “Yeah. We've got intel that says he's the contact point for good old Nicky Fuentes.” “Interesting.” John chewed on his thumbnail for a moment. “I'd guess he's talking to Hernan Soldado then. He's 8-Ball Kings but has a cousin in the Double Treys. So he can kinda work both sides of the street, even though those two gangs haven't had a falling out in, like, forever.” “Why this Soldado?” Rico shook his head. “Because that Hernan's their drug boy. He does most of the gang's fronting and coordinates their street dealers. I hear he's pretty pissed about the Columbians taking out his talent.” “Yeah. I hear his security's not too good, either.” “Is there anything you guys don't hear? John shook his head. “We've been hearing rumblings about the same thing. Rumor has it some of his dealers aren't hitting the streets until the Kings hit back against the Columbians.” “Why haven't they?” John sighed and rested his hands on his battered desk. “If I knew that I'd win the lottery and tell this job to fuck off. No one seems to have any guess. I've heard things ranging from the old guys don't want a fight to they don't have enough guns to they're afraid of Metro-Dade.” He chuckled. “If you're a betting man, my money ain't on number three.” “Mine isn't either.” Sonny chuckled. “Nice talking to you, John. Maybe we can return the favor.” “With that Magic 8-Ball you guys have? It would be a pleasure.” John sighed. “Now I gotta finish this report on the dealer who got gunned down last night.” “Any idea what he was slinging?” “You can bet I asked that first thing, Rico. It wasn't heroin. The unis found coke residue in his pockets. No H, though.” Out on the street, Rico was about to say something when his pager buzzed. “Bout damned time that chump got done with his freebies. I'll call him from the office. Cooper needs to be somewhere else for this one.” “Yeah, like the airport. Nothing says 'don't jerk me around' like a plane ticket out of town.” Sonny chuckled as he started the Ferrari. “Let's see if we can land this damn minnow and use him as bait for some bigger fish.” Nicky answered on the second ring. “That planes I hear, Cooper? You're not bailin' on me, are you?” Sonny snickered as he listened through the headphones Stan had added to the phone. He could practically hear the piss flooding Nicky's pants. “Maybe I am. But that's because you bailed on me! Two days! My guy doesn't like to wait around. And I think Burnett might be pissed that you screwed up the deal.” Now Sonny was sure he heard piss. “Burnett? Naw, man. It's nothin' like that. These things take time. What with the heat between the Dominicans and those batshit crazy Columbians and all. And China White's top of the line. It doesn't show up in bales hidden between pallets of bananas, you know.” “And punks like you don't usually have access to high-grade product. Don't mess with me, Nicky. It's been a long day and I might be out the cost of a plane ticket pretty damned soon. You feel me?” “Sure, Cooper. Sure. Look, we'll take the cost out of my end. I just need to have a sit-down with my source is all. See about what's on hand. How much weight did your people want?” “For starters? Try fifty kilos. They might settle for twenty-five, but nothing lower.” “Fifty?” Nicky's stammer was almost a physical thing shaking the phone lines. “I'll check, man, but I gotta tell ya...with the heat out there he might not have that much on hand.” “Twenty-five's as low as we go. And if you can't make it happen in twenty-four hours, don't bother calling back. But I would change your ZIP code. I expect Burnett will be wanting to have a word with you.” Sonny started laughing the second Nicky hung up. “I think the little punk actually pissed himself. He's scared.” “Yeah. From all sides. That street war's got him spooked, and Burnett just adds gasoline to the fire.” “Hey Stan! We got a tap on Nicky?” “Yeah.” Stan stuck his head out the tech room door. “Had one on him since he was one of the Mendoza's runners. It's not high-grade, but it gets the job done.” “Keep an eye on it. We're looking for a call to someone named Hernan. Or any Dominican.” “You got it. And how was my favorite con artist?” “Izzy? Fragrant as usual Too much bullshit and sweat for one human being. We should take up a collection and get him a new jacket. That walking disco ball he's wearing has got to go.” Randy came out of the office he and Dave shared, munching on the remains of a sandwich. “We're headin' out in a bit for overwatch, boss. New sector, though.” “Good.” Sonny walked over to the ex-Marine. “I know that wasn't easy last night. Hell, it never is. But we can't get involved. Not directly. Can't let 'em know we're out there.” “I know, boss. Don't sit right, but I know.” Randy smiled. “Thanks for checkin', though.” “Seriously. If it gets too bad, take a night or two off. We can find another way.” “We're good. I'll let you know if that changes.” Ten minutes later the two men had kitted up and headed for the garage. Once they were gone, Rico turned to Sonny and whistled. “Those are two intense cats.” “Yeah. And it's not easy for them to sit and watch people get blown away. Even when it's bad guy on bad guy. It would have been easy for them to drop that shooter last night after he'd hit the dealer. Scare the hell out of both sides. But they know we can't afford that.” He sighed. “Doesn't make it any easier on 'em though. If they have another rough night I'll have to find another way. I can't risk burning them out.” Mindy came in from the outer office. “Boss, we got some notes from a Detective Calabrese while you two were downtown. She says there's more on the way, but she wanted you to see these first.” “Gina came through.” He took the papers. “Thanks, Mindy. I'll get them to you and Trudy as soon as I've had a look.” Turning, he laid the typescript pages out on the table so he could see the map as he read. He looked up at Tubbs. “Want to give me a hand?” “Sure. I got nowhere to be until it gets dark. Then I turn into Teddy Prentiss.” “Taking the old dog out for a walk?” Tubbs chuckled. “Something like that.” He sat down. “Did Gina come through?” “It's a damned good start. One of her girls is actually from that neighborhood and gives a solid rundown on the place. Where the hot corners are for dealers and that kind of thing. Turns out that kid isn't the first one who's been taken out there, except the last time it was some kind of Dominican beef.” “Looks like this other one was first turned out three blocks over. Right where the trouble started.” Tubbs walked up to the map with the paper in his hand and started tracing lines with his finger. “She got out when the Columbians started shooting. I'd guess it was the Blancos judging from where it went down.” He skipped down a couple of lines. “Looks like they hit one of her friends in the crossfire.” Mindy reached out and snatched up the papers. “If there's that much there I need to get started. See how I can factor it into the areas Dave and Randy have picked for overwatch. Especially if they talk about security from either the Kings or the Treys. If they get made, it's going to be by someone who knows the turf.” Sonny chuckled. “I'll leave you to it, then. Dave, Randy. You two cool? Need anything we forgot to requisition for you before?” Randy looked at Dave and answered for them both. “We're good, boss. As soon as Mindy updates Zone B I think we'll head over that way and look at infiltrating.” “I'll start there, then.” Mindy looked at her notes, stacking Gina's interviewed based on street name. “Looks like there's only three interviews that line up with Zone B, so it won't take long.” Earl Lester Holmes could think of a hundred things he'd rather do than sit on his ass and sweat, but any of them took more effort than he was willing to expend in the summer heat. So he sat behind the bar nursing a Bud and reflecting on the sad state of his business since the colonel had his head removed. Maybe I will have to deal with them damned bikers, after all. I do hate having to back up for those bastards. Benny came bursting out of the back office, interrupting his musings. “Boss! I just got two of the damnedest calls!” “Slow down, Benny. Yore gonna melt what little brain you got you keep goin' like that. Now take a breath and tell me slow.” “Ok, boss.” Benny took four or five deep breaths. “I just got two calls, one almost right after the other. The first was from some Spic callin' hisself Double G, and the second was Eddie sumbitch or somethin'.” “How'd two spics get this number?” “They both said they got it from Doc. What doc would have our number, boss?” Doc. Now that's a name I ain't heard in a while now. “The right kind, Benny. Now you're sure they said Doc?” “Yeah. It sounded funny so I asked 'em twice. The Double G feller he said he needed a Doc special, an' the other guy just said he wanted what we was sellin'.” So Doc's asking for a favor? Hell, I guess I can manage that. Within reason. I ain't sellin' LAWs to illegals or Commies, and those Dominicans could be both. “What'd you tell 'em?” “Said I'd call them right back. Had to check on things. They gave me numbers.” Benny held out a pad with scratches only he could read. Hopefully. “Good man. What do you think these boys is up to?” Benny scrunched up his face. Holmes always imagined he could see smoke seeping out of Benny's ears when the man started thinking. “I'd say they're the honchos behind them Dominican gangs in a shootin' war with some Columbian outfits. Most of those Columbians used to run with the Mendoza brothers, so they got better guns.” “Not for long. You call them two back, Benny, but call Double G first. Find out what they're lookin' to buy and let me know. Then we'll let 'em know what we can supply and how much it'll set them back.” He raised his hand. “I know, Benny. We ain't normally in the business of sellin' to their kind. But we need the cash, and if it lets 'em kill each other off faster I'd say we come out ahead.” “That's damned smart thinkin', boss. I'll go make them calls. First to Double G like you said.” As Benny scurried back to the office, Holmes drained the last of his beer and scratched an itch on his ample gut through a stained Smokey and the Bandit t-shirt. He'd known Doc years back, when they were both getting started in their respective fields after Vietnam. Maynard had played a role in that, of course, since Doc had worked with some other spook in Saigon. They had nothing in common, but he liked to think they respected each other's talents. And he must have a damned good reason for sending Dominicans his way. But their money was green like everyone else's, and if it wasn't he'd send them on their way. Turning, he hauled another beer out of the cooler. It also got him to thinking about that damned bunch of Federals who'd taken out Maynard. A nice gang war was sure to draw them out of the woodwork. Bodies always attracted Federals like shit drew flies, the more the better. If he played this right he might solve a couple of problems at the same time. And he wouldn't have to deal with those damned bikers... The back room was always cooler once the sun went down, and it didn't remind Carlos as much of Saigon. Some days that was a good thing, but other days it made him sad. There were things he missed about Saigon, but there was no going back. He knew that. Leo cleared his throat. “I just got a call from Eddie. He's got some dealer two steps down the latter who's looking to score fifty keys of our China White.” “Is this that clown Nicky Fuentes?” “Eddie didn't say, but my guess is yes. Ever since Tio went down Nicky's been trying to fill his shoes.” Leo chuckled. “Badly.” “He's a greedy little shit. No way I'm letting him near that much of our product.” It was also tap his reserves to an unacceptable level. The next shipment wasn't due for a couple of weeks, and he had more networks to supply than Eddie and his morons. “Tell Eddie it's a no-go. A hard no-go.” “Either he's grown a brain or he's got someone doing his thinking for him. He said his guy could make do with twenty-five. I guess Nicky's got some dude from New York City on the hook.” Carlos nodded, shifting in his low chair as he adjusted his vest made from jungle fatigues with the sleeves cut off. New York? Didn't I hear something about that? “Is this the same cat Tio was trying to make nice with?” “I don't know, jefe. But I ain't heard of no other out of town buyers in the last month or so.” “And this cat's got that Burnett guy with him, don't he?” “That's the word. Burnett does his transportation and plays heavy like he always does. Any time those dudes show up there's a body count.” “And we don't need body counts, Leo. This Nicky's an idiot. And if Eddie's letting him suck off the tit he's a bigger idiot that I thought.” He leaned forward, his thin face highlighted in the fading yellow light coming through the window. “Find out for me. I know Eddie ain't dealing with Nicky directly. His people would never stand for it. But someone in the 8-Ball Kings is, and I want to know who it is. We need to assess the threat before we commit to anything more than a couple of dime bags.” Once Leo left, Carlos leaned back in his chair and lit a Camel filterless from the pack beside him. The difference was his were filled with top-end pot instead of tobacco. One of the craftsmen three shops down made them for him, resealing the packs so they looked just like the real thing. Until you fired one up. Pot relaxed him and helped him think. And he needed to think. He hated showing any part of his hand to that redneck asshole Holmes, but he didn't know any other arms dealers who could provide both quantity and quality on short notice. He was sure Holmes would rip the gangs off, but he could also count on the racist bastard to keep the destruction to a minimum. No assault rifles or explosives. He and Holmes had the same general goal, but with different reasons: bleed the gangs down and eventually stop the war. Holmes would just want to see as many brown people die as possible, while Carlos was more interested in seeing the remains of the Mendoza brothers swept from the streets. They were bad for business. He let the smoke hiss out his nostrils as the familiar calm flowed through his veins. It was one of those nights where if he closed his eyes he could almost hear the Hueys thumping overhead and the nasal singsong of the mamasans arguing in the street. But there was no distant boom of artillery or the howl of jets coming out of Than Son Nut to strike some target in the flatlands to the west. Occasionally he'd hear a pistol or two popping off in the distance, a reminder of the little feud on the edges of his turf. But tonight it was the calm that mattered. The storm would come soon enough. Ricardo Tubbs couldn't make up his mind as he rode the elevator down to the parking garage. Did he want to head back to Casa Cooper or spend a night as Teddy Prentiss? He still didn't know as he wheeled the Caddy out in the rush hour traffic, sunglasses on the top down. Looking for all the world like an awe-struck tourist from somewhere other than Florida. It had been good to see Castillo again. The man was tough, damned tough, to be able to come in and run a meeting like that so soon after he'd been shot up. And Rico had no doubt he'd be back at the head of the table in no time. But it had been good to see Sonny step up, even though Rico was sure he'd be more than happy to step back down and away from the fax machine. He was almost at the point of no return when he eased the Caddy into the right lane and made the turn for the Hilton. It was time to shake up the routine a bit, and maybe see if he could still make Teddy Prentiss work. Covers unused tended to go stale, and if he had to use Teddy on the Dominicans at some point to get to Doc he had to be sure he was at the top of his game. They'd smell a fake quicker than Stan could quote an Elvis movie. The suite was just as he'd left it, and the view out over the water rivaled the one of the city he got from Casa Cooper. When he'd checked in yesterday he told the clerk he might extended past a week, and a hundred dollar bill made sure he'd have the suite until he was done with it. “I'll just flag it tentatively reserved,” the kid said with a smirk. “All you gotta do is confirm with the desk when you know you'll be using it.” Hanging up his suit jacket, Rico walked to the balcony door and looked out at the water, turned red by the setting sun. Jessie's number sat on the table by the king-sized bed, and he gave it a long, contemplative look. He hadn't really gone out since the whole Mikko incident, aside from one or two little flirtations at clubs that never went anywhere or his one date with Debbie. Part of him knew it wasn't fair, but another part could only think of how lonely he was. Sonny at least had Jenny, crazy as she might be. But did he want to tie her up in the lie that was Teddy Prentiss? That was where his wires got crossed. He smiled, thinking back on her hair and the way her eyes lit up. She was a damned pretty girl. But she'd left her number for Teddy. It was one thing, picking a girl up in a club as Rico. Just Rico, no last name. But it was something else again to pick one up as someone you're not, even in name. It had always bothered him when he worked undercover, and later he came to understand it was one of the things he'd hated about Valerie. She'd been undercover so much the lies came too easy and she didn't know the difference. In the end he left the number sitting there. The Hilton had a first-class restaurant and bar. Maybe some debutante or wanna-be actress would be down there sucking down martinis or tequila sunrises and dreaming of an Island man who'd sweep her off her feet. Or maybe he'd just had a good meal and a drink or two before calling it a night. The fate of his son still bounced around in his head, and he wondered if he'd be even decent company right now. Sonny Crockett was smiling when he stepped off the elevator the next morning. Jenny's boat had been gone when he got to the marina, and the spot was still open when he woke with the sunrise. At first he thought he missed her, but then he realized he was glad for a break. Trying to figure out what the hell she was up to gave him a headache. So much of it made no sense. Mindy looked up and smiled when he came in. “The rest of Gina's notes showed up this morning with Stan, boss. He and Lester are already out working taps. He said it's better when it's still cool and it doesn't stink as bad. He also said these were the last ones she had.” “Thanks, darlin'. I'll start going through them. Any word from Tubbs yet?” “No. And I don't expect Dave and Randy until later. No word on how their night went.” “Thanks. I don't know what we'd do without you.” He grinned again and forged on through the conference room and his daily encounter with what he'd come to think of as the white desktop monster. It was almost ten before he heard Rico pouring coffee in the conference room. “...and let me tell you it was a night. Who knew those women could drink so damned much?” “Did you have an encounter with the dreaded South Florida cougar last night?” Tubbs turned to face him, his eyes bloodshot. “The what?” “It's a dangerous predator we have down here, Rico. An older woman, usually just divorced, who's out looking to recapture her youth in the pants of some young buck. They can all drink like fish, and take no prisoners.” Rico laughed, then winced. “One of them might have been. I just remember too many shots of rum. But I stayed true to Teddy Prentiss the whole time. That I remember, mon.” “Hopefully they were only in town for one night. Otherwise you might have to summon Izzy to drive them off.” He raised his hands. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not holding your hand on this one.” Mindy cleared her throat from the door. “If you boys are quite done, I've got the chief deputy on the line. He wants Crockett to meet him for lunch at Rudy's Ribs at two.” She smiled. “And no, it's not a question.” “Tell him I'll be there.” Ribs made Sonny remember Leon and his damned Mercedes and...how many years had it been since he'd really thought about Eddie? How long had it been since he'd even spoke to Maria, his widow? Damn this job. “Make for a nice change.” “He wants to get the cut of your jib or whatever it is those old guys say.” She smiled. “He's a sharp character, boss, but he likes to hide it behind his little Southern law enforcement act. I'll tell him you'll be there.” “Guess it's a good thing I got through Gina's notes, then.” He picked them up and handed the stack to Mindy. “Not as many with meaning for us this time, though. Oh, and have you heard from Trudy?” “She's taking Marty to a follow-up appointment. She said she'd try to make it in.” “If she calls back tell her it's ok if she stays home with him.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “We'll be needing all hands soon enough. If you want to take some time, go ahead.” Rico chuckled. “It don't seem fair that we all get to bail and leave Mindy stuck here. Tell you what, I'll give her a hand with those notes and the maps.” “When you're done both of you call it a day. I'll be back after this lunch, assuming old Pete doesn't rip me to shreds and dunk me in Rudy's sweet honey sauce, and I'll hold the fort until the boys get back in the Roach Coach. Dave and Randy most likely won't even come in if they have everything they need.” Rudy's Ribs was something of a local landmark, its big white sign decorated with a barbecue-sauce-smeared pig visible from almost a quarter mile away. Sonny parked the Ferrari about a block away and walked over, regretting hauling his white blazer out of the closet for old time's sake. He'd have to remember to ask Tubbs where he took his dry cleaning. Inside the lunch mob was starting to fade away, replaced by those in less of a hurry or with their own business to conduct. Sonny was about to ask the hostess if he was expected when the voice he'd heard over the phone boomed out. “Come on back, son! Got us a table and beers ready to go!” Pete Washington stood up and waved, looking for all the world like George Jefferson with a close-cropped afro and wearing a suit that would have made Rico jealous. He didn't stop smiling until Sonny sat down, and only then because he took a deep drink of beer. “Good to finally meet you,” he said, pouring Sonny a beer from the sweating pitcher between them. “Drink up. More where this came from. They got a menu, but it ain't worth your bother. I'll order for us.” He narrowed his eyes and squinted across the table. “If you trust me, that is.” Sonny laughed, fully caught up in the guise of the man. He was sure Pete Washington was nothing like this when the lights went down and things got serious, but he enjoyed the theater of the man. “I trust you, Pete. I don't drink beer with men I don't trust.” “Knew you had a solid backbone.” Pete chuckled, waving the waitress over and ordering two number sixes with fries. “The pulled pork's damned good,” he explained, “and I think they stuff the whole damned pig between the buns. You won't need supper after this.” His voice changed as soon as the waitress moved away, confirming what he'd suspected. “I understand from Dave and Randy you were a Marine. Good. I like working with solid men. That Castillo's as solid as they come, and he gave you his full support. Where are we in this thing?” Sonny outlined their progress in short sentences, knowing Pete would appreciate it. “Right now we're waiting on Nicky,” he concluded with a thin grin. “I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a pencil, but he's the only in we've got.” “The Dominicans that closed off?” “Yes, sir. My partner Rico dealt with them a time or two for pot buys, and he always had to go through a middle man of some kind. And even then he didn't get near these two gangs. Strictly small timers.” “Well, shit. Keep leaning on the little punk, then.” Pete stopped talking when the waitress returned with two heaping plates of meat and fries. “And can we get another pitcher, darlin'? Thank you much.” “It's been a few years since I've been down here. Forgot how good their food was.” “Once a week for me.” Pete grinned. “I love me some barbecue. You think pushing Nicky will bring the H connection out in the open?” “He's the only one moving Red Cross as far as we know. At least in anything more than an ounce or two. This Doc is careful.” “Doc?” “All we know about the main dealer is his street name. And that we got from the head of Narcotics over in Metro-Dade. Doc's kind of a myth over there. They've been chasing him for years and have nothing. He's a ghost. But we'll get him.” “Just keep me in the loop. Anything you need, we can get. And I hear ATF's been bugging you for taps on that arms dealer. Good move keepin' them to yourself. It's their show, but it doesn't hurt for us to have an ear to the wall.” “Our intel thinks sooner or later at least one of the gangs might reach out to Holmes. He's the only one with the kind of hardware they want. But he doesn't use the phone much, or if he does it's from someplace we don't have tapped.” Sonny smiled around his sandwich. “We didn't work much magic on him. Our main target was Moncado and Maynard.” “And you nailed 'em both. Big feathers in our caps. But that heroin's got a lot of people nervous. It ain't crack, that new stuff I keep hearing about, but it's bad news just the same. And for someone to keep dealing that long without getting busted...it just sends the wrong message.” “We'll get him. I can't say it'll be tomorrow, but we'll get him.” “Good. Now let's finish this grub and drink some more beer. Unless you got someplace better to be?” “No, sir. That I do not.” Sonny left Rudy's with a full belly, a light buzz, and a deep respect for Pete Washington. George Jefferson he was not; there was more weight than bluster to the man. And he trusted him. Sonny didn't trust bosses easily or often, but he was ready to number Pete in that small group. He also didn't seem to be the type who disappeared when the going got rough, and all three marshals in the task force appeared to trust him without question. That was enough for Sonny. It was hot in the afternoon sun, and he was glad he'd risked the white blazer. The heat helped sweat out the beer, and before long he was driving back to task force headquarters. Hopefully Tubbs and Mindy had called it a day, and then all he needed to do was send Stan and Lester home as soon as they came in, if Mindy hadn't done it already. It was cool and quiet in the office after the heat and bustle of the street and Rudy's Ribs, and Sonny just let it all wash over him. Only then did he realize just how tired he was. It wasn't so much the work he'd been doing, which consisted mostly of glaring at the fax machine and hoping the phone didn't ring, as it was worrying about everyone else. He wondered how Marty had managed it all these years. Always wondering if Rico was going to keep it together, if Stan would stay away from the ponies, if Lester would accidentally shock himself, and now worrying about Trudy. Add in the three deputy marshals and it was damned hard to balance. He knew he had to let some of it go. He know Rico's strengths and weaknesses almost as well as he knew his own, and he trusted Stan to keep it together. Especially now that he was with Gina and busy training Lester in all things surveillance. Trudy? She'd killed Maynard. Hell, he had to worry more about someone pissing her off. He'd always known Trudy was a strong, capable woman. Never a question in his mind. And the marshals? Having met their boss he knew he'd gotten the best in the office, not duds they wanted to offload. Dave and Randy were as tough as they came. He just had to pull them off the line once in a while because they wouldn't do it themselves. Mindy was still a bit of a puzzle, but she came from South Boston and a father who'd been an abusive cop and then an abusive ex-cop once he was kicked off the force. He smiled and sat back in Castillo's chair. He still thought of it as Marty's chair. If anyone's the weak link here it's me. Me and my baggage. But I'm not going to screw this chance up. Not happening. The thought felt good, so he hung onto it for a time, looking out the window and willing the fax to stay quiet until he could leave. And then he saw the note taped to it. 'I sent Stan and Lester home, boss. I put this where you'd never see it. Mindy' “Damn it!” He tore the note into little pieces and tossed them in the trash, laughing the entire time. She had his number, no doubt about it. Still, he wasn't sure he was ready to leave yet. Maybe a bit more time with the map would tell him something. He also didn't want to run into Jenny tonight. Getting up, he walked into Trudy's office and logged into the computer. They had three terminals all told, and true to form Castillo had refused one. Once the cursor was blinking, Sonny typed in Jenny Walker's name and hit return, doing a basic warrant search. He knew Stan had done one, too, but that was weeks ago and she'd been gone for a couple of extended periods since then. He had to be sure. Once again her name came up clean. Switching to boats he ran the profile search for Vellamo, but based on builder and length. Sure enough, it came up again with a different name and on a Customs watch list for art smuggling. But this date was more recent. Thinking back, Sonny did the math and guessed it was during one of her extended cruises. There was always a chance it was a sister ship, even though he knew precious few of those had been built. Still, it was a lead, not conclusive evidence. And he had to be sure. Logging out of the system, Sonny walked out to the map. But he couldn't concentrate on the colored lines, circles, and dots marking their hunting ground. Instead he kept seeing Jenny's sun-bleached hair and firm body in front of his eyes. How she appeared and then disappeared, first with the candles and then those damned cards. It was like making love to some kind of ghost. They knew nothing about each other, at least nothing they'd told each other. And she didn't seem to care. Except when she did. That was the strange part. He'd be happy to just walk away except there was something off about her. Something that hinted she was looking for more, and was feeling more, than just the casual air she put on. Sonny knew his weakness had always been women in trouble, going as far back as his first junior high girlfriend. Little Tammy Forester who needed help with her homework and then with other things. She'd had her sob story about her step-father, and he'd fallen for it. After that it had been more of the same, him saddling up his white horse and trying to ride to the rescue. Sometimes it worked, like Caitlin, but mostly it failed. Barbara, Caroline, Brenda, Theresa, the list went on. Even Burnett wasn't immune with Celeste. And now Jenny. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and turned back to the map. There had to be something here. Something that showed him the path to Doc. He just had to find it. “What did the doctor say?” Martin Castillo turned away from the cooktop, seeing Trudy standing just inside the kitchen. “You were there. You know. But I have to move. If I just sit there I turn to mush. And I don't heal.” Reaching down, he stirred the chopped onions and green beans sauteing in oil. “It's their job to say that.” She smiled. “But I knew you wouldn't listen.” She started to walk away and then turned back. “How long do you think the CIA will take to come through?” “Not long. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. They don't like owing people, and this only pays half their debt.” “Would you really have gone to that man's boss?” “I don't know. What matters is he thought I would.” Castillo slid the vegetables onto a waiting plate and then added garlic and thin-sliced chicken to the hot pan. “He's a bastard, Trudy. Make no mistake. He's done far worse to people for no reason other than to make them suffer.” “I know...it's just...” She shivered and looked at him, her bright brown eyes wide. “You've never seen that side of me.” He reached out and took her hand. “And you may never see it again. But I know their world. I was part of their world for years until Menton showed me the reality of it and I walked away. It's not me, but it's part of me. Like Burnett and Crockett.” “That's what it reminded me of. Seeing Sonny as...well...not Sonny. That really scared me, Marty. I won't lie. It was hard to trust him again.” “You don't need to worry about me.” “I don't. I trust you with everything I am. You know that. It's just...hard to see what they made you become.” Nodding, he added the vegetables back to the pan and poured sauce over them. “That's one reason I despise them so much. They'll send someone new, or someone who doesn't belong, to deliver the goods. It's how they operate. It will all be face to face so it can be denied.” He moved the pan off the flame to allow the sauce to thicken without burning. “Have Stan lock the tape of than conversation away. And make copies. You should have one, too.” “Just in case?” “Just in case.” He reached for the cooked rice and then paused to admire her as she walked over to help him plate up the meal. Her slender body never ceased to amaze him. Her movements were so fluid, so beautiful and understated, he never tired of them. She moved, he realized, like she played piano. Then he remembered the look Jack had given him when he was talking about the squad. He knew! Even then he sensed it. Good thing you're dead, old friend, or I'd have to deck you right now. “What's that smile for?” “I was thinking about Jack Gretzky. About how he looked when he mentioned you in the squad. I think he knew even then we were meant for each other.” “How?” “Jack was like that. He sensed things. Sometimes he just knew things. It doesn't make sense, until you stop making it try to make sense.” She nodded. “He always smiled at me. The way he looked, it was like he knew me from somewhere. It really creeped me out at first.” “We should eat before this gets cold.” He smiled and walked to the low table, settling into his cushion. “And then maybe we could walk to the beach.” “I'd like that.” She smiled, and he delighted in the way her eyes sparkled. “It's good walking anywhere with you after the last few weeks.” “It will just keep getting better, người yêu.” He was really starting to like how that phrase rolled off his tongue. “I hope so.” There was a hitch in her voice that gave him pause. “Why would you think it wouldn't?” “Life likes throwing me curves, Marty. My brother getting murdered right when he was starting to turn his life around. My sister.” She lowered her eyes, but not before he could see the tears forming. “And maybe...” “No.” He was around the table and had her in his arms before she could gasp. “There's no maybe here. Life tried to throw you a curve, and you blew Maynard's head off and saved my life. You changed things, Trudy. And I will never leave. Not unless you want me to. I can think of no one I'd rather be with.” She nodded, but he could feel her body shake as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I know, Marty. My heart knows. It's my brain that keeps messing with me.” Reaching down, he put two fingers under her chin and tilted her head back. Then he kissed her, a soft touch of his lips on hers and then her forehead. “Trust your heart. It's what led us here and will keep us here. I know the last weeks have been hard. On everyone. But the worst is behind us.” He smiled, touching her cheek with his fingers. She laughed, a soft thing just reaching past her lips. “And now the food's cold. It smells so good, too.” “I can heat it up later. Right now I'd rather be with you.” He smiled, standing and helping her to her feet, ignoring the pain that stabbed through his midsection. “Let's take our walk now. While there's still light. Maybe we can see the waves Jess liked to talk about.” “You must really miss him.” “I do. Him, Jack, all the others. My life has been full of death, Trudy, but very little love. That's why I fight for us.” He held her for a time, letting her settle back into herself. And, in truth, drawing some strength from her. He knew how much she wanted the walk, and there was no way he'd disappoint her.

Randy Mather checked his range card again, making a pencil note on one of the buildings. “You got the guy about three hundred yards out? Coming out of building C?” “Squirmy little shit in the red ball cap? Got him.” Dave adjusted the high-power spotting scope. “That's the third time he's been in and out of that dump.” “Yeah. He's either got his girl in there and he's a damned rabbit or that's his stash house.” Randy added another note to the open notebook next to the range card. “I'm thinkin' stash house.” It was almost dark now, and the handful of working streetlights were starting to flicker on. Public works didn't seem to like coming to this part of town, and Randy couldn't say he blamed them. It was something of a wasteland; a collection of decaying row houses turned into cut-rate apartments, dying corner stores, and an inordinate number of liquor stores flashing their neon to make up for the loss of the streetlights. “If you can't give 'em hope, keep 'em drunk so they don't notice,” he muttered. It wasn't new. He'd seen the same thing in Vietnam in the eyes of the peasants working their fields, wondering not ifsomeone was going to take their crop, but when. And in the faces of men and women in Butte when the mines started slowing down and closing. Once-proud buildings falling into disrepair as jobs vanished, taking hope with them. Both Butte and those damned peasants were stubborn...they kept going. But the cost was often too high. He might have ended up just like the rail-thin kid in the cap if it hadn't been for his Marine father and the stories he told of his great-grandfather, who'd been one of the old-time Deputy U.S. Marshals. With examples like that he knew what he had to do, even though the Pacific had soured his father on many things in life. But he knew not everyone had those examples. He wasn't going to go soft on the kid down there, but he figured he understood at least a bit of where he came from. “Any sign of those jackoffs they had on security?” Dave's voice brought him back to the sweltering rooftop. They'd been in the hide since a bit after noon, their sweat soaking into the tar paper covering the building's slightly sloped roof. “Not for an hour now, I'd say.” “That ain't good. If the Columbians are anything like the NVA, they'll try to hit during watch changes.” He shifted the scope a hair. “I got that damned spider thing goin', Randy. Somethin's gonna go down.” Randy nodded. He'd learned years ago to trust Dave's strange feelings, and it had surprised him to find out Crockett had the same gift. He'd not been happy when they'd drawn the task force cover assignment, but he'd changed his mind as soon as he met Castillo. And he had to admit the rest of them had grown on him. And Crockett was another Marine, even if he'd been a pogue. They were damned fine detectives, though he did wonder a bit about their manhunting skills. But he hadn't expected miracles. Manhunting was something the marshals did for a living; for vice cops it was more of an afterthought. Still, he admitted Crockett's instincts were damned good. He was making the right moves, and wasn't afraid to seek advice from people who'd done it before. Picking up the powerful night glasses, he swept the four-way intersection again, looking for patterns or broken patterns indicating trouble. So far it had just been customers, but spread out more than he'd think was normal for this neighborhood. Gang wars had a way of messing with everyone's business. He picked the kid up just as he entered the golden cone of a streetlight on the far side of the intersection. Looking down, Randy confirmed from his notes what he thought he'd seen. “Got a repeat customer. Remember the kid in the Santana shirt we thought looked out of place? He's back. Coming in from Indian country and moving fast.” “Got him. Three twenty five and closing. He got any support?” “Negative. Just him. Can't see his hands, and he's heading right for ball cap. I think we got a live one.” “It's like the old days, partner. We just get to sit and watch. Except this time we can't even try to fool some dumb butter bar into giving us a green light.” “Yeah. But we'll have our day.” Randy watched one kid close in on another in the dappled light from failing streetlights and blinking blue and purple neon. Something flared from around Santana's waistband, and the pops of the shots reached his ears about the time he saw the dealer double over clutching at himself and fall to the cracked blacktop. Santana cranked off three more shots, sending a message more than trying to finish the job, and took off at a dead run for the shadows that had spawned him. It was over in less than fifteen seconds. “Well...damn.” Dave didn't move from the spotting scope. “And NOW his security shows up. Assholes.” “They're Dominicans, right? 8-Ball Kings judging from the tats. I'd say their life expectancy just dropped dramatically.” Randy chuckled to hide his real feelings about the waste they'd just witnessed. “Unless the Kings are runnin' out of cannon fodder.” “At least they got the decency to pull his stash before they run off an' hide.” Dave twisted his lips into a snarl. “It's like watchin' the Ruff-Puffs recover their own wounded.” “I'll bet you a beer no one calls the cops for another ten minutes.” “I ain't touchin' that one. I already owe you a damned case as it is.” Randy nodded, looking back down at his notes. It had been a productive first day in terms of documenting this corner. Who the players were. What the action looked like. And now they knew the rules of engagement. At least for today. “Let's give it a few and then pack it in. If Metro-Dade shows up they'll scare all the locals away, and I don't care to watch them tromp through a crime scene. It's too late to displace to another hide.” “Yeah.” Dave turned on his side, leaving the spotting score for the first time in almost an hour. “You think this'll pay off? I mean for real?” “It helps the boss build a picture of the AO. You seen what they got. Shit. Anything we can give 'em helps make it easier when the time comes. And you've seen this crew work. The time WILL come.” “I know. Makes all the damned difference in the world.” Randy nodded, trying not to see the pool of dark blood around the body sprawled in the street. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes passed before he heard the first siren split the night. “You would have lost.” “Fuck you.” Thirty minutes later they broke down their gear and called it a night. Shadows slipping from shadow to shadow until they reached the street and disappeared like bad dreams with the coming of dawn. “Are you sure you want to do this?” “Yes.” Martin Castillo pulled his black leather tie tight and lined it up with his shirt. Then he tugged on the suit coat, hiding the wince that accompanied muscles gone tight from lack of use. And the wound. He couldn't forget about the wound. Not that it would let him, throbbing in time with the beat of his heart if he let the pain meds go for too long. But he could see the worry in Trudy's face and wanted her to smile. “If you think I'd pass up another ride in that car you're crazy, detective.” She laughed, a real laugh that came from her heart and made him smile. “Ok. But no drag racing this time. Unless they challenge me. Then it's on.” “I wouldn't have it any other way.” He smiled again, mostly for her benefit but also because he had the pain under control. It would be some days, maybe weeks, before he could move without a hitch, a pull, to remind him of Maynard's bullet. But he also had to keep his word to Tubbs. The Challenger roared to life, and soon they were on the highway heading back to Miami. He sat back, watching Trudy focus on her driving and road around her. He'd discovered he liked watching her when she didn't know he was doing it. She was so natural then. So confident and possessed of ability. It was one of the things he knew had attracted him to her. Sonny was in mid-briefing when they walked in, and words died on his tongue when he saw Castillo following Trudy. “Marty! I...” “Carry on, detective. I'm just here to make a few calls.” He pointed to his abdomen and grimaces. “Doctor's orders. It's still your task force, detective.” “Let me know if you need anything.” He nodded, seeing the genuine concern in Sonny's eyes, and then let the man get back to business. Maybe they'd talk later, but for now he wanted to let Crockett run his show. And sit down before he fell down. The walk up had taken more out of him than he'd realized. Trudy noticed and moved to help. “You need some water, Marty? Coffee?” “Coffee would be good. Especially if it's Stan's. Then you can be with them if they need you.” He raised his hand. “I'll be fine. It's just a few calls and then maybe I'll talk to Crockett. You have my word, người yêu.” “Is that Vietnamese?” “Yes. It means true love.” “I...” “Go be with them. This is something I need to be alone to do.” He smiled, not wanting to see her cry. The words had just come out, but he couldn't think of any better. And now he needed to turn his heart to stone and reach out to the people who had tried to kill him at least twice. The phone rang five times before someone picked up on the other end. “Extension 691.” The voice was male and bland. It could almost have been a recording. Almost. “This is Castillo. Put Jacobs on.” “There is no...” “Just do it. Or others may find out about your connection to Maynard and Moncado.” Seconds later a reedy voice echoed over the line. “Damn but you still play hard ball, Marty.” “I don't appreciate men coming to kill me. Or my team being set up to be slaughtered.” “Water under the bridge, Marty. Hell, that was a lifetime ago. We're a new brand now.” “Not from where I sit. Not if you were using men like Maynard and Moncado. But we cleaned up that mess for you.” “And did a damned fine job of it.” Castillo could hear the envy in the man's voice. “Left no trace and let those assholes of J. Edgar's look like they got caught with their pants down and their hands on their junk.” “I need everything you have on a baby that was last seen at the Calderone villa in Los Noches, Columbia, in 1987. Your people called DEA off. I don't care why. But I want everything you have on the child. Every picture. Intercept. All of it.” “Why?” “Because I asked for it. Consider that the price for Moncado.” “What about Maynard?” “He's worth more.” The line was silent for a time. “Ok, Marty. I don't know what we have. Central America ain't my beat. But I'll dig around and see what turns up.” “The debt for Moncado is only paid if I get product, Jacobs. ALL the product. And we'll know if you try to shortchange us.” “Who? You and that girl Friday of yours? Or the little Mick-ette from the marshal's service?” Castillo focused on his breathing. Feeling the air move in and out. When he spoke his voice wasn't his own. “So that's how you want to play? How's your son, Jacobs? Not the one you lie about to your wife, but your real son. The one you had with that Nigerian prostitute. Have you figured out how to smuggle him into the country yet? Or how to explain him to your wife? Your boss? Foster's still an old-school Klansman, isn't he?” “God damn you, Castillo!” “You aren't the only who who stays current, Jacobs. Don't ever forget that. And you know better than to play games with me. You'll always lose.” “Fine. We'll do it your way. But if I get you want you need this clears Moncado off the table?” “Yes. Call me when you have something.” Castillo hung up before the man could say anything else, and then sat looking out the window for what felt like an hour. Waiting for his heart to slow to normal. And for his eyes to become human again. He hated dealing with the Company. But he knew how to beat them. He was still looking out the window when Crockett came in. “Trudy said you wanted to see me, lieutenant?” “Yes.” Castillo got up and waved Sonny to the chair. “You should sit behind the desk. It's your place until I'm ready to resume full duties.” Moving slow to avoid angering his stitches he came around and sat in front of the desk. “How's the team doing?” “Good. At least I think they're good.” Sonny looked down at his hands. “Tubbs is half eaten up by his kid, but he's staying focused. We've got him set up in the Hilton so he can play Teddy Prentiss if he has to. Dave and Randy had their first overwatch last night and saw one of the 8-Ball Kings' dealers get hit. I think Stan and Lester are going to elope with the Roach Coach, and Trudy and Mindy are crushing it with their intel.” He shrugged. “Me? I'm just glad I haven't shot the fax machine yet.” “I know you think you're more useful out there. On the street. And sometimes you are.” Castillo locked eyes with Sonny, using his gaze to full effect. “But they need you steering things. Keeping them focused and on course. This will get messy very soon, and they'll count on you to have a cool head. You keep Stan and Lester focused on the right surveillance package, make sure Trudy and Mindy have the right pieces to put together, and point Dave and Randy at the right targets. They're incredible weapons. And Tubbs? Keep his head in the game. Lean on him like I leaned on you. He's in a bad spot now and is looking to you to get him through it. And how are you?” “Me? Hell, I don't know. Got some crazy lady who keeps breaking into my boat and waiting for me naked, or luring me onto her boat and doing the same thing. Maybe she's a smuggler, maybe she's trying to play me. Or maybe she's just plain whacko. I don't know. And then I got this to track, and that damned machine to keep from shooting.” He cracked a crazy smile. “Some days it's all I can do to keep from rubbing myself in tuna oil and offering myself up to Elvis.” “So everything's normal?” Sonny laughed. “Yeah, I guess it is at that. I just got used to having you around to keep one part of the universe cool.” “I'm a phone call away.” Castillo smiled, not sure how to proceed. It wasn't in his nature to ask for favors, especially this sort of favor. “Sonny, I...” “I'll look after her, lieutenant. I know enough Vietnamese to know what you called her. And I've lost enough to know what that means. I'll keep her safe no matter the cost. You have my word.” “Thank you.” There was nothing left to say. Groaning with the effort, Castillo got to his feet. “I think I might take a nap on the couch. I remember it being comfortable.” “Couch my ass. Trudy can run you home. Send her back if you don't need any help, but we hashed out the intel from last night's shooting while you were threatening people on the phone.” He pushed the pain back down. “Brief me.” Sonny grinned. “Best behavior, kids. The lieutenant wants a briefing.” Stan tossed off a makeshift salute. “Roach Coach and Marilyn reporting for duty.” His grin threatened to engulf his entire face. Castillo bit. “Marilyn?” Stan turned to Lester. “It's your name.” Lester turned a light pink and shifted in his chair. “We...uh...I decided we needed a name for the roach on top of the van, lieutenant.” “I see. Good call.” Castillo held back his own smile. “Is that all you have to report?” “We got the warrants just the other day and it's been hell trying to get the taps in.” Stan grimaced. “I don't think the sanitation department has touched a trash can in those neighborhoods in weeks. And don't get me started on the kids! Little bastards will try to steal your shoes.” “Keep at it. And remember; they don't see much hope down there.” “No, you're right, lieutenant. It's just slow going is all. But the couple we have in are starting to produce. Mostly on the 8-Ball Kings. The Double Treys are next on the hit list.” Randy looked at Castillo and nodded. “Dave and I had to watch those Columbians whack one of the 8-Ball Kings' dealers last night. Neither kid looked to be over seventeen. The shooter was wearing a Santana t-shirt and looked to be sporting the colors of Los Tech 9s, but we didn't a good look at him. He shot and ran. What struck us odd, lieutenant, was that the dealer's security guys both disappeared for close to an hour before the shooting. They'd been regular as a damned Swiss watch before that, at least one of them watchin' out the door of this fleapit liquor store every time someone made a buy.” “What was he dealing?” “No way to be sure.” Sonny jumped in after Randy shot him a look. “We can put in a call to Metro-Dade and see what the uniforms picked up, but it's not likely to be much.” Randy took up the narrative again. “Took the boys in blue almost a quarter hour to show up. By then the buzzards had picked the body over. By that I mean his supposed guards. They showed up right after the shooter took a powder and cleaned up his cash an' what looked to be his stash.” “I couldn't see for sure through the spotting scope.” Dave kicked in his share. “But it looked more like blow to me. Leastwise I didn't see any of those crosses on the baggies.” He shrugged. “Course it was gettin' on full dark, too. Even with the spotter's scope I couldn't pick up that level of detail clearly. Not the way he was movin' when he was dealing.” “What does that tell us?” Mindy took up the challenge. “We don't have enough intel to know for sure, but it looks to me like the Columbians are using this to both recruit new members and whittle down the Dominicans' numbers advantage. If this was a new initiate, the Tech 9s just went up by one and the Kings went down by one. Maybe three if the two guards were paid off. It might also mean they don't think they have the firepower to run straight at the Dominicans just yet.” Trudy nodded. “I'm with Mindy on this one, lieutenant. I don't think either side has the firepower they want, which is good for Metro-Dade. But if the Columbians keep picking off one or two dealers a day, it'll add up quick.” Castillo nodded. He could feel himself wearing down, but there was one box left unchecked. “Rico?” “Nicky Fuentes is playing hard to get, but I'm about to reach out and get his skinny ass.” Rico grinned, but Castillo could see that distant look in his eyes and was troubled. “He's got until the end of the day and then Cooper's gonna pay that Trixie a call.” “We've reached out to Gina for some neighborhood intel. Thanks to Stan for helping with that one, and hopefully it didn't cost you too much.” Sonny smiled in a show of appreciation. “I promised her we wouldn't need to talk to those girls at all. Just any info she could send from talking to them.” “Good thinking. And we'll keep that promise. Those girls she works with have been hurt enough.” Now my body's had enough. “Keep up the good work, all of you. I was wondering if you could spare Detective Joplin to drive me home? The doctors still won't...” “You got it, Marty. Just do what they say and get better soon.” Once Castillo and Trudy left, Sonny turned to the remainder of the task force. “Like he said, good job everybody. Stan, Lester, keep at those taps. I know it's hot and it smells out there, but it's a huge help. We're not gonna make this case without taps and tapes. Mindy, if anything comes in from Gina today it's top priority. See how what they say lines up with what we know and fill in any gaps we have. Dave, Randy. That was solid work last night. I know it ain't easy, but what you're doing helps us as much as what Stan and Lester are doing. Once the taps kick in you'll be putting faces to names.” Sonny turned to Rico. “And Tubbs, we got the most thankless job of all. I think it's about time we went and lit a fire under Izzy Moreno's ass.” It was the look in their eyes he loved the most. That instant when it changed from skeptical to wanting what you were selling. There was nothing like it in the world as far as Izzy Moreno was concerned. Except, perhaps, for the adoring gaze of some willing senorita. But those looks were few and far between. The wanting to buy what he was selling looks came far more often. Leaning down, he reached into his bag and pulled out the shoe. Sunlight danced off his sequin-covered tuxedo jacket. The damned thing was hotter than hell, and he sweat buckets every time he wore it. But something about the glitter attracted the old fools and their women, and Izzy was willing to sweat for a decent profit. As they watched, he lifted the shoe over his head like it was the Olympic torch. “This, my frens, is the very choo worn by the great sex symbol Richard Gere. His very sweat, the totalness of his manly essentials, shaped this choo.” He ran a finger along the side, careful not to smear the polish he'd applied not an hour before. He'd tried selling tonics, costume jewelry, and even a few prime lots in the middle of swamps, but for some reason the shoe always sold the best. Looking out at the small crowd of white-haired men and their blue-haired women Izzy felt a sense of power. They were watching him! Hanging on his every word! With a grand flourish he waved the shoe past his face. “The finest leather goes into thees choos! Stitched by the hands of expertized Italian craftsmen! An' the leather is taken only from the most magnificent bulls from Pomploma. Hemingway wrote of those bulls. An' would Hemingway lie to joo? Would Richard Gere lie to joo? No!” He swept his gaze over the crowd again and his gut turned to ice. No! Why now? Damn joo, Crockett an' Tubbs! Turning, he set the shoe down on one of the park benches forming his little amphitheater. “An' now I mus speak with my overseas sales constituents. Joo may admire, the choo, but you mus not touch the choo.” He pushed through the crowd, his genial smile twisting into something different the closer he got the two detectives. “Crockett! Tubbs! Why do joo always have to rain on my entrepenurialsit parade? I'm not hurting no one. I don't shoot no one.” “No, but you rip them off, Izzy.” “Lies! Unfoundational accusations!” Deep down Izzy knew it was true. He did rip them off. But was it really any different than the bankers promising them eternal wealth if they signed over their pensions for some stock that didn't exist? At least when they bought from him, they got a pair of shoes that might actually fit and make them feel good for the few weeks the shoes lasted. He grinned, knowing it would do no good. He and the two detectives went back years, almost as long as he'd been in Miami. Life in Fidel's Cuba taught Izzy much about how hard things could be, and made him appreciate what little he'd been able to carve out in the States. Even his fat, greedy uncle and shiftless nephew didn't appreciate Miami the way Izzy did. In his own way he supposed he liked Crockett and Tubbs, even though all they wanted was information or someone to do a little dirty work for them. At least they paid well and on time. “Nothing unfounded about it, chump. But we ain't in the mood. What we need is information on some Dominicans, and we need it yesterday.” “Then jore outa luck, Tubbs. This is today.” “Don't make me shove one of those shoes down your slick little throat, Moreno.” Crockett narrowed his eyes, making Izzy's gut shift again. “Dominicans, Izzy! And who's Nicky Fuentes dealing with down there?” “Little Nicky? That punk? That pimple on the ass of Miami? Joo know what they say about that little punk?” “No, and I don't want to know. I just want to know how he got in with the Dominicans. They don't like outsiders. Which makes me wonder why they like you.” “Maybe it's because my aunt, rest her soul, was Dominican. Joo think I'm lying, but it's true.” He chuckled. “Ok, maybe she jus' go to the Dominican Republic once, but they don' know that.” “Izzy...they could find out pretty damned quick.” “Hokay Tubbs! Joo need to lighten up, meng. Like a lot.” Over the years he'd learned how far he could push, but Tubbs was touchy today. That made Izzy nervous. He trusted Tubbs less than he did Crockett, and that wasn't saying much. “Nicky's tied in through a cat named Hernan. Mid-level in one of thos' inbred socializations they call gangs. Joo know...Los Gatos, El Grande, whatever they come up wit' that sounds...joo know...tough. Like they got testiculations.” Izzy peered at them through his black-framed glasses, trying to remember if he'd ever heard Hernan's last name, and if he had if it was worth testing their patience and holding out for more cash. One look at Tubbs decided it for him. “An' no, I don' know the cat's last name. Nicky was jus braggin' on it one night when he was with Trixie.” “You take one of her freebies for a pair of those shoes?” Izzy puffed up. “Who do joo thin' I am, meng? Izzy Moreno don't take no freebies. An' if I did it wouldn't be from that walking plague. I hear her las' boyfriend almost lost his parts because of some disease he got.” Ok, he hadn't quite heard that. The story was more like the guy found out she was doing it with six of his friends and dropped her in disgust. But Izzy liked his version better. Still, he needed to get back to it. He still owed money on this shipment of shoes, and there was another waiting for him to take possession. “I'll keep thees ear to t' street. But now I gotta get back to work.” Crockett threw up his hands. “Go! Get to it!” There was more, but Izzy wasn't listening. Oh, he could get what some people called a real job, but then he'd never see those eyes again. That look that came just before the sale. “Now, gen'lmen. Ladies. If joo will permit me...these choos...”

Mindy smiled as Rico walked into the outer office. “Sonny wanted me to see if you needed help with anything,” he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “I think I'm good, Rico. Trudy just called and said she'd be in this afternoon.” “Good deal. Hey, if Sonny asks I'm gonna go run down a couple of old sources. See if they have anything that can help us with this operation.” The lie slid easily off his tongue and Mindy didn't even blink. Riding the elevator down to the garage, Rico wondered why he'd lied. He could have just said he was going out to clear his head and Sonny would have understood. But then he might have wanted to help, and Rico knew why he'd lied. He didn't want help right now, except for finding out if his boy was dead or alive. Everything else rested squarely on his shoulders. Even though it wasn't quite ten, Rico could see the midday heat rising in waves from the blacktop outside the garage. So he left the top up and turned the A/C on full before rolling out into the sun. He paused before turning onto the street, deciding which way he wanted to play things. Sonny, he knew, always headed out of town when he wanted to think. For Rico it wasn't that easy. Seeing headlights in the rear view mirror, he made his choice and pulled into traffic. Che Marcos was one of the new rooftop restaurants springing up across Miami, funded by mystery money and usually the flagship of a new office building. Calculated to lure the office workers up to keep their money 'in house,' they usually featured some take on 'Island' or 'Coastal' cuisine and a full bar. New York habits died hard, if at all, and sometimes when Rico wanted to think he needed to be around people. This was one of those times. The matre'd took one look at his Armani suit and showed him to a secluded corner table with a wide synthetic smile. “Will anyone be joining you, sir?” he asked, pulling out the chair. Better than you have tried to work me, chump. But he just grinned. “No, mon. Just me today. But if things work out, I'll be back with the ladies.” “I see.” The punk in the tailored tux looked like a shark scenting blood in the water. “Might I suggest today's special?” “Let me check the menu, mon. I'm a bit particular in my tastes.” “Of course. And a drink while you decide?” “Righteous, mon. Scotch. Jonny Walker Blue Label.” A synthetic nod accompanied the smile. “Excellent choice. Jessica will be back with your drink. She's your hostess this afternoon.” Tubbs nodded, having already dismissed the drone in his mind. He didn't care much about the menu, either. He'd seen it all before, just with different names and accent marks to try to make it look 'new' or 'different.' He was more interested in the movement around him. The people. And sorting out where his head was. Maybe then he could get his heart in order. Jessica turned out to be a twenty-something with dark black hair and bright blue eyes reminding him of Mindy's. She was slender in the right places and filled out in the same right places, and wore her short skirt like she'd had it tailored. Setting his drink down she smiled. “Are you ready to order or did you need a few minutes yet?” “I tink I'm ready.” He regretted having started the Prentiss gig after seeing her, but there was no turning back. He ordered a Caesar salad and pointed to one of the sandwich choices. “Is the sauce really Jamaican?” She looked around and lowered her voice. “No. I wouldn't want you to be disappointed. It is good, though.” He grinned. “I don't tink you could ever disappoint me, Jessica.” She blushed, turning her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. “But if you say it's good I will try. And I won't tell them you told me about the sauce. Never rat on a pretty lady. It's part of the Prentiss code.” “Thanks.” She smiled again, scribbling notes on her pad, and turned back to the kitchen. He admired her walk as she went, wishing again he'd not started the whole Island routine. But maybe it was for the best. A lady in his life now would only complicate what was already a mess. The scotch was smooth, and he let it warm a path down to his stomach while he watched people in rumpled suits wolf down “working lunches” or linger by the bar over a third martini before heading back downstairs to one dead-end job or another. He wondered if any of them knew where the money came from that funded these buildings, and if they cared if they did. In the dimmer corners he saw bosses and their secretaries eating furtive lunches, their eyes doing what they wished their hands could do before going back to work. He knew most of them would look down on what he did, consider it lying, when they lied more than he did in course of a normal day. “Here's your salad, Mr. Prentiss.” Jessica shocked him out of his daydream, and he favored her with a smile. “Tank you, pretty lady. It looks great.” And he wasn't lying. Che Marcos might have a terrible name, but they looked to have a decent chef. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She smiled again before walking away, and he swore she put a little extra into the walk. As he ate, he felt himself returning to center. It wasn't an intentional thing; it just happened as he watched all the other 'normal' people lying to each other and happily munching on food in a building paid for with drug money. If his life was a constant cycle, theirs weren't any different. At least he could put on a new face once in a while and get paid to pretend to be someone he wasn't. When Jessica came back with the sandwich he favored her with an authentic smile. “That was fabulous, pretty lady. Fabulous! Can I get another drink? And then I'll stop bothering you.” “You're no bother, Mr. Prentiss.” She smiled again. “Not a bit of one.” “Call me Teddy, pretty lady. All my friends do.” “Mine call me Jessie. And I'll be right back with that Blue Label.” This time he was sure she put a little extra into the walk. The sandwich wasn't up to the level of the salad, but it wasn't bad. As Rico ate he kept watching the dim corner booths, hiding a smile behind his food as one of the secretary-looking women jumped up and slapped the man she'd been eating with seconds before. “Looks like someone's cover's blown,” he muttered, chuckling as he took another bite of the sandwich. Jessie came back with his drink, smiling as she set it down. “Let me know if you need anything else. I'm on shift for a while yet and this is my section.” “I'll do that, pretty lady.” He looked at the glass. “If you see that empty, bring me one more. Three's my limit when I'm workin', you see.” She smiled again and moved away. He could tell she'd wanted to stay, but the narrow eyes of the matre'd were on her. Tubbs found himself liking the chump less and less. I wonder how much of their tips he tries to keep for himself? Maybe Teddy should channel a little bit of Marcus on the way out. The thought felt good, and he turned it around with the ice cubes in his drink and chewed the last bites of his sandwich. There were still fries on the plate to chase ketchup, and he could nurse a drink for a good hour if necessary. Send one more look this way and we'll see how long these ice cubes can last. He was partway through the third scotch on the rocks when Rico realized he was almost back to normal. Watching other people and their lies was a big part of it, but it also felt good just to sit somewhere as someone else and consider what his life would be like if he had to work one of those jobs. Where all he had to look forward to was lunch at the top floor restaurant and another long, painful afternoon before he could go home and wait to do it again the next day. That crowd was mostly gone by now, replaced by the mid-afternoon drunks who were maybe halfway through their rotation of bars before hailing a cab home to keep drinking until whatever pain they were nursing went away. He could see his father's face in some of them, and turned his attention back to the bar before his mind went too far down that path. Too far back to New York. Jessie came by as soon as he set down his glass. “Here's your check, Teddy. I hope you come back and see us again.” She gave him a quick wink and turned back to the bar. Rico looked down and understood. Under the total she'd written her name and number in precise cursive. “Call me” was under it. Just as he looked up she turned, and he smiled and gave her a subtle nod. Maybe I will at that. But first I need to set up a hotel suite for Teddy. I can't bring her to Casa Cooper if it gets that far, and I might need a crash pad if I have to use Teddy for the op. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a fifty dollar bill and left it on the check. Getting up, he walked by the bar. “And I don't need no change, pretty lady,” he said as he passed her. His expression changed when he reached the matre'd stand. He could feel his eyes go hard, cold. It was a look he'd mastered for Marcus, and it felt good adding it to Teddy's profile. “The tip is all hers, mon. I hear you took any, we'll be havin' this talk again. An' I promise you won't like it. Dealing with Teddy Prentiss personally is too much for you. Cool?” “Uh...yes. I understand.” The punk's eyes went wide and Rico could see his hand start to shake. “Solid. You remember what I say now.” He held his smile until he was out the door and taking the elevator back to the street. Rico was just pulling out of the parking garage at the task force office building when Trudy Joplin poured Martin Castillo his first cup of coffee. “Sleep well?” she asked, kneeling down beside the sleeping mat and handing him the steaming mug. “Much better.” His eyes were clearer today, free of the painkiller clouds that had masked them yesterday. He looked around. “I like what you've done.” “I didn't do much. Just added a thing or two.” “You've made it ours. Not just mine. I like that.” He smiled at her, and she felt part of her heart melt. “I've moved most of my stuff out of my old place.” She paused, not quite knowing how to continue. There was really only one thing left. “Once it's clear the landlord can put it on the market.” He smiled again. “The piano.” “How did you know?” She knew better than to ask. Marty always knew everything. Maybe it was those spirts he'd talked about last night. At first she'd thought it was just the drugs talking, but the more she let the thought settle in her heart the more she knew it must be true. At least for them. “I'd like you to bring it here. It's a big part of who you are. I have no right to take those things from you.” He sipped the coffee. “And I'd like to hear you play.” “I don't know...it's been years.” The thought made her cry a little inside. It had been years, and she wanted to play well for Marty. Then it hit her. I don't even know what kind of music he likes. Does he like music? There's so much I don't know yet. “But if you're sure...” Her voice trailed off. “I'm sure. We have room, and it would go well over by the door. So we can open it and hear your music with the waves.” He shifted on the mat and winced as something pulled. “Damn. They said it would take time.” “You just rest. I'll call and see about having someone move the piano.” Trudy smiled, having a hard time concealing her happiness and then wondering why she was trying at all. “Thank you, Marty. I was afraid I'd have to sell it.” “Never. I could never expect that.” He smiled and sat up, reaching back to arrange pillows. “I can make the call if you like. I think I can manage that without tearing anything.” He smiled. “You should go in. Let the team know you're still with them. And let Sonny know he's doing a good job. He'll need reassurance right now.” “He seems confident enough.” “That's his act, Trudy. Crockett isn't used to being responsible. For having to carry that weight at the end of the day. He can do it, but he doesn't know it yet. His confidence will slip, and you just need to remind him.” Marty took another sip. “I'll be back as soon as I can. Even if it's just office duty.” Trudy nodded, not quite trusting herself to answer. Sonny had always been a good friend, supporting her every chance he got, but he'd always been a difficult team player. But Marty was right. He was trying, and getting better every day. She owed it to him to support that change. It can't be easy for him, after all. She smiled again, leaning forward and kissing Marty, tasing coffee on his lips. “I'd better get going if I want to miss the traffic. Call if you need anything.” “I will. Be careful with this operation. There's more going on than we know.” It was late afternoon, and the light streaming through the slatted blinds made golden bars on the rough mat rug covering the room's floor. Carlos Delgado watched as the setting sun changed the patterns as it sank low in the sky. In some ways the light reminded him of Saigon and how darkness claimed that bustling city. It was quieter here. Less gunfire and no Hueys thumping overhead every few minutes. But the heat and the humidity, barely disturbed by the rotating ceiling fan, brought him back every time. The handful of people who made it to the back room were surprised he used it as his office. They expected something bigger, something bold and bright. That was one of the first things he'd learned. Low profile was better. Less was always more when you were trying to avoid attention. Growing up in Detroit, he'd learned to avoid attention early in his gang days. His father was no one knew where, and his mother most days was lucky if she could remember her own name. So he ran the streets, one of the few of his set with no serious record. That proved to be a liability when he got the 'greetings' letter one fall morning in 1968. A few months later he was filing off the chartered 707 with about a hundred other scared kids bound for the 90th Replacement Battalion at Long Binh, Republic of Vietnam. Unlike most of them, Carlos wasn't headed for a line unit. He'd somehow pulled an MP MOS, and within a week was on his way to Bear Cat, the headquarters of the 9th Infantry Division and the 9th Military Police Company. A knock on the door interrupted his little trip down memory lane. Pushing his John Lennon glassed up on his nose, he waited a three count before saying “Enter” in his low, modulated voice. It was Leo, one of his few remaining friends from Detroit. One of the few still alive. “Doc,” he said, using the nickname Carlos had picked up in Saigon and kept ever since, “we gotta problem.” “There are no problems, Leo. Just solutions waiting for a home. What's cookin', amigo?” “Whatever, man.” Leo shrugged. “Anyhow, those damned Columbians are makin' noise again over by the corner of Flagler and 12th.” “So? That's the concern of our Dominican brothers. Not ours.” “Don't gimme that hippie crap, Doc. I get we don't get our hands dirty, but this is gettin' outa control.” “They can handle their own business.” Carlos smiled and looked down at the ledger in front of him. “At least they'd better be able to considering how much money we've made them.” “That's parta the problem, Doc. They ain't got as gooda guns as the Columbians.” Leo snorted. “You know those psychos left over from the Mendoza brothers always had good hardware.” “I do. But we don't touch guns. Too much attention. The wrong kind of attention.” Carlos smiled, feeling his thin face stretch with the effort. He'd always been a slight man, which helped him disappear into crowds and blend in when he had to. His shortness also helped him avoid more than a few MP sweeps when he went AWOL and joined the Saigon underground scene. In a pinch he could pass as Vietnamese, and he learned enough of the language to do so when it suited him. “Yeah. I know. We stick to our operation and let them take care of their own business. But you hear things, man. You gotta know someone I can point 'em to who might be able to help.” Carlos nodded, turning his thoughts inward. It was true he'd rather deal with the Dominicans than the Columbians. The Columbians were crazy and greedy, a terrible combination if you wanted to survive in this game. And he knew more than a few of them used their own product. Which explained to him why they ended up stacked like so much firewood in the morgues. The Dominicans still had some honor left, and they were more interested in protecting their turf and their business than they were in expanding. It made for a better partnership. One that had worked for over ten years now. He didn't want to waste that. But he had to be sure he was still insulated. “I might know of someone,” he said finally, weighing the options in his head. “Who?” “He's a pain in the ass to deal with, and might not sell much to them at all. But word on the street is he lost a big customer not too long back and is having cashflow issues.” Carlos chuckled at the thought. Normally nothing would please him more, but these weren't normal times. Reaching out, he picked up a pad and pen, scribbling something down. “Have Double G call this number. It's a start. Have him say Doc referred him.” “Gotcha boss.” Leo took the paper. “What about Eddie?” “Copy it and give him the same instructions. And tell them both they need to be careful about how they deal with this guy. But if things go well, he'll solve their firepower problem. No question.” Once Leo left, Carlos took off his glasses and sighed. Things had been good for so long he supposed it was only natural something should go wrong now. He'd been lucky going all the way back to Saigon, and his chance meeting with a chubby white dude calling himself Menton in one of the bars favored by other deserters near Cholon. That connection coincided with an explosion of heroin use among rear-area troops, and he'd been positioned to make a killing. But he listened to his instincts and Menton's advice and went slow. Small and slow. While others had been busted by CID or fragged by rivals, he'd prospered. But not overnight. He sold only to people he knew, and always used someone else to make the delivery. It was then he got the idea of branding his product with the red cross and been tagged Doc by one of his regular wholesale customers in the 25th Infantry Division's headquarters company. But all good things had to come to an end. He understood that, and used Menton to buy false papers and get out of South Vietnam during the last wave of troop withdrawls in '72. A hop from Saigon to Thailand and he was home free and still in possession of his Vietnamese contacts in-country. The fall of Saigon set him back a bit, but Menton reappeared like some kind of demented Santa Claus and helped him reconnect with a good source of China White. He'd tied in with the Dominicans in '80 and run been on autopilot ever since. Until now. Oh, he'd smoked a few dealers in his day, or had Leo or his other Detroit pal do the dirty work for him. Usually small-time punks who tried to push it too far or stepped on the product. He'd been gearing up to smoke that fool Tio when someone did him a favor. Reno, too. Dealing with those two had been a mistake, even though Eddie had vouched for them. It made Carlos wonder if Eddie was losing his edge, or if he was starting to let greed cloud his judgement. Double G, on the other hand, was still solid. Him and his Double Treys stuck to the old ways, the old methods that worked and kept them out of jail and comfortable. And off the radar. Maybe there was a way he could swing this so Eddie's 8-Ball Kings went down in the fight, leaving the Double Treys to pick up the pieces. He'd learned years ago, back on the frozen streets of Detroit, it was pointless to fight the Street. But you could nudge it in the direction you wanted with the right touch. And Doc knew he had that touch. Sonny was still hunched over Castillo's desk when Rico got back to task force headquarters. He looked up and grinned. “You get any numbers while you were out clearing your head, I mean looking up old sources, partner?” “Mindy gave me up.” “Naw, Tubbs. She just said you were looking up old sources. I've been your partner long enough to know what that means.” He smiled again, waving Rico to a chair. “You get figured out what you needed to figure out?” “I think so. For now, anyhow. And yeah, I did get a number. Or Teddy Prentiss got a number.” “Nice. But we'll need to set you up somewhere else if you're going to be using Prentiss as an actual cover and not just a dating service.” Rico laughed, and Sonny could almost see the tension leaving his partner's body. “Great minds think alike. I was gonna ask about that. Cooper's good for dealing with Nicky, but once we bring him in it might be good to change it up.” “Book a week in the Hilton or something downtown. A suite. Mindy can get you a card number.” Sonny chuckled. “Hell, I might have to get one just so I can meet buyers without having Jenny show up unannounced.” “I see Trudy's in. She ok?” “Yeah. Says Castillo says hi to all of us. He seems better now that he's home. And she seemed...” He grasped for a word. “Contented. Yeah, that's the word. Contented. I've never seen Trudy like that, Rico.” “We ain't exactly contented types, Sonny.” “True enough, partner. And I'm even less contented dealing with this crap.” He waved his hand to encompass everything on the desk. “I'd rather be out getting...what's her name?” “Jessie.” “Getting Jessie's phone number as Burnett than see another damned fax spit out of that machine.” As if on cue the machine beeped and sputtered to life. “I can't take it! Let's go see if our intel experts have anything new for us.” At some point in the afternoon Trudy had moved the big street map from the table to a bare spot on the wall, rigging a drape to cover it in case they had visitors. New circles appeared, marking the overwatch arcs of Randy and Dave, and other assorted colored dots showed where Stan and Lester were working their magic. Trudy stood back, her hair loose again around her shoulders and her firm body showcasing a tight green dress with almost no skirt, admiring their work. “Now that's easy to read.” Crockett walked over, tracing turf lines with his finger. “Maybe we should send a copy over to John in Narcotics when we're done. He could use something like this.” “I'll do that, Sonny.” Trudy scribbled a quick line in her notebook. “I remember him from my uniform days. He's a good cop.” “Yeah. And stuck between the bosses and OCB. The fall guy if anything goes wrong.” “He did us a solid with those files. It's the least we can do.” Sonny turned back to Trudy. “Anything new on this Doc character?” “No. We're hoping the taps might help. Stan radioed in and said they're almost done with the first set and will be back before dark.” Trudy smiled, her eyes bright. “I'd swear if it wasn't for Gina he'd marry that stupid Roach Coach. All he's been doing today is whining about he has to drive a phone repair truck.” “Well tell him to deal or we'll give it back to the chief deputy.” Sonny smiled to let Trudy know he was joking. More or less. “I think he'd cry for a week. And then Gina would kill you.” Trudy stood in front of the map, and Sonny could tell by the lines on her face she was thinking hard about something. Then she turned to him. “Marty told me to move my piano today.” “That's great news, Trudy. I know how much that piano means to you.” Rico nodded. “And I get it. It's his space, and he wants you to bring that in. That's huge.” “Yeah. Good huge and scary huge at the same time.” “I'm gonna tell you what Tubbs told me about Jenny. Just roll with it. Now I don't know if that's good advice with Jenny yet.” He shot a look at Tubbs, who just grinned. “But it is with Marty. We've all known him for years. Hell, he's been our boss longer than Lou was. He wants you in his life, Trudy. And I know you want to be in his. Just let it happen, darlin'. That's what I did with Caitlin.” “And you can start playin' again, too.” Tubbs grinned. “You know much jazz?” “Some. My mother used to sing. Not much, but she tried. Pops didn't like it so much, though.” “Mine never did either.” Rico's face took on that distant quality again, but it cleared before Sonny could speak. “But you can play him some tunes. I'll bet his place has great acoustics.” “You know, I bet it does. I never thought of that.” She smiled and hugged Rico. “Great idea!” “Can we get back to work now?” Sonny grinned to show he was joking and turned to the map. “Still nothing from that punk Nicky?” “No. And I'm gonna kick his junk into next week next time we see him.” “Give him until tomorrow and then we're going looking for the little worm. I don't want to let that trail go cold. Especially since he's dumb enough to trot his pink tux-wearing ass into one of those kill zones and get it shot off.” “A pink tux?” “I think it was white once, Trudy. Lord knows what his mother washed it with, but it's a light pink now. Not sure why the little bozo keeps wearing it.” “Maybe it's his good luck tux?” Rico chuckled. “Maybe he was wearin' it the only time he got some without havin' to pay for it.” “Can we focus, boys?” Trudy was smiling. “I think we've established this kid is a loser.” “Another relic of the Mendozas, although he was never anything more than a bottom-rung errand boy. He likely knows at least some of the Columbians, but I don't know who his in is with the Dominicans. If they're the gatekeepers for Doc and his Red Cross, Nicky's gotta know someone who can vouch for him.” Sonny stared at the map, running through every name he could remember and coming up empty. “I can't think of any, either, Sonny. And I've done deals with the Dominicans before.” Rico shrugged. “I'll go through my notes again, but last time I busted out.” “Maybe John has something we can use. He's the only one I know of who's been keeping an eye on the Dominicans and their weed concession. With this new crack thing starting to hit the streets OCB's got Columbians on the brain.” Rico snorted. “That's only because that Homicide chump has no brain. You think Vallencio's still in the office?” “I'll hit him up in the morning. Right now we need to get your Prentiss suite set up and I need to figure something out for Burnett.” He looked at Trudy and gave her a sheepish grin. “Jenny's gotten too good at breaking into the boat and getting past Elvis.” “You need to do something about that girl, Sonny. And fast. Before she moves in or hauls you off to some deserted island and parts you out like an old car.” Trudy smiled. “And I'm only half joking.” “Yeah, yeah. Let me go see what kind of horrors shot out of the fax machine. Rico, check with Mindy and get that hotel settled. Trudy, let me know if Stan or Lester check in. I want to ask them a couple of questions.” The fax Sonny wanted was three down from the top, headed by a generic DEA symbol. He scanned it and let out a soft whistle. But he'd done the easy part; reading the fax. The hard part was knowing what to do next. The DEA report was short and pointed. When the Calderone clan evacuated their estate, they'd taken a baby with them. It was last seen entering one of the family's highland villas in the care of what looked to be a nanny. Then the team had been pulled off by orders of the CIA, who claimed they now had jurisdiction. The report ended with the terse sentence – 'no updates ever provided by said agency.' That was it. The trail ended in the Columbian mountains behind a wall of CIA bullshit. Or did it? Sonny knew he needed to tell Rico. But there was something he wanted to know first. Leaning out, he saw Trudy was still by the map. “Trudy? You got a second?” Once she was in the office he lowered his voice. “Does Marty still have any pull with the Company?” “You'd know as much as I do, Sonny. I'm guessing so, considering we just cleaned up one of their messes.” “I'm gonna need him to work his magic.” He showed her the fax. “If there's anything else out there, they have it. They shut DEA down back in '87 and haven't let them in since. That's what? Five, six years with no word. He told Tubbs we'd find out one way or the other if his son was still alive. If anyone knows, it's those bastards.” “I'll ask him tonight.” She looked out toward the outer office. “You gonna tell Rico?” “I have to. I gave him my word.” Sonny shook his head. “It's not much, but at least now we know who's sitting on everything.” “What if Rico Junior is alive?” Sonny looked through the door and shook his head. “I don't think he's gotten that far yet. He hasn't gotten past just wanting to know.” “It's all good to go.” Rico beamed when he came through the door. “She got me a suite on the top floor of the Hilton.” He stopped when he looked at their faces. “What? Did I forget my cologne again?” “Rico, the DEA tracked Ricardo Junior to a villa in the Columbian highlands in '87. Then the Company stepped in and shut them down.” “What?” Tubbs slumped into one of the chairs in front of the desk like he'd been slugged in the solar plexus. “But he was alive then?” “They think so. Surveillance saw a baby in the care of what looked like a nanny. Then the CIA shut them down.” “So that's it.” “No. We're going to check with Marty. If anyone can reach out and rattle their cage, it's him.” Sonny gripped his friend's shoulder. “And they owe us big time for cleaning up their little Maynard/Moncado mess. How would that have looked on the Channel 2 news?” “You're saying there's a chance.” “No. I'm saying we know who knows more about what happened after '87.” Sonny nodded to Trudy. “She's gonna talk to Marty and see what strings we need to pull. There's no guarantee those bastards will have anything, or if we can shake it loose if they do, but at least we know where to look.” “And he was alive in '87?” “The DEA report suggests it was. They weren't looking for kids, remember. They were tracking the family cartel or what was left of it.” He handed Rico the fax. “This is what I got.” Rico looked at the streaked paper and smiled. “Thanks, Sonny. And Trudy, thanks for taking this to Marty. It's a start, and it's more than I knew an hour ago. That means something.” He stared at the paper and then Sonny saw him force a smile. “And I got the last suite on the top floor of the Hilton. Room service here I come!” “Go easy on the charges, pal. We still gotta account for all that.” Sonny smiled, glad his friend could still dig some humor out of the situation. When he worried about Rico was when he stopped laughing. Stan's booming voice filled the conference room. “Lucy! We're home!” Sonny chuckled. “Hey, Stan! In here! Got a couple of questions for you.” He looked down at Rico and gave his shoulder another squeeze. “You want to talk, partner, give me a shout.” Even without opening his eyes Martin Castillo knew it was night. The air told him with its temperature and taste in his nose and mouth. But that wasn't what woke him. It was the notes floating through the night air, drifting on the cooling air into his ears from somewhere in the house. He didn't know the song but he knew the tune. Jazz. Notes connected by scales and pure emotion, brought from unfeeling wires and cold ivory by skilled fingers. He felt a smile working its way onto his face and opened his eyes, seeing long shadows falling across the bedroom floor. They flickered with a pattern only candles could create. He eased himself off the sleeping mat, wincing as muscles tensed across stitches and forming scar tissue, but still managed to make no sound as he got to his feet and stepped into the living room. When the men came he had them position the piano in a corner by the wide patio door, allowing an easy view of the ocean and the movements of the sun. Trudy sat playing, her eyes closed and head tipped just a bit back. Lost in her improvisation. He was halfway across the room before he realized he'd been his old quiet. Too quiet. He didn't want to startle her, so he cleared his throat. “That's beautiful.” She missed a note, and he saw her start just a bit. But then the music flowed again. “Thank you. It's been months since I played that. Played anything, actually.” She turned to smile at him. “Maybe over a year if I think about it.” “Now you have no excuse.” He walked over and touched her shoulder, feeling her smooth skin and the warmth of her. He never tired of either feeling, especially after almost losing them. “And if we open the door you can play with the waves.” “I never thought of that.” Her smile grew and her eyes almost glowed. “They do have a tune of their own, don't they?” “Jess always claimed they did. He said he could tell when it was good to surf because the waves told him it was.” Castillo shrugged. He still wasn't comfortable talking about Jess with anyone. But it was getting there. “I didn't believe him until we had R&R in Australia. The Company put us up in a place right on the beach. One morning he got up, opened the window, listened without opening his eyes, and said the waves would be perfect. Six foot swells, good breaks. Surfer language. We got down to the beach and they were. I never doubted him again after that.” She drew the tune out to a natural conclusion and smiled. Then he kissed him. “Thank you for letting me...” “No. Thank you for bringing it here.” She smiled again and then paused. “Sonny wanted me to ask you something. Before I forget. It's about Rico and his son.” “They found something.” It wasn't a question. Castillo knew they would, and he also had a good idea where it was headed. “The DEA had the Calderone family, or what was left of it, under surveillance in '87. They got a picture of a baby being taken into one of their mountain villas.” She paused. “And then the CIA shut them down. No explanation. Just told them to pull their people off the location. And there's been nothing since then.” Castillo nodded. “I figured as much. The Company was very active in Columbia at that time.” He paused. “And they make their mistakes disappear.” “But they owe us.” “They do. And they hate being reminded that they owe someone.” The pain medication was starting to wear off again, and Castillo winced as a spike of pain shot through his lower body. But it also helped him think, cleared the mush from his brain the drugs left behind. “I'll make some calls. Remind them of the mess we cleaned up.” “I'm sure Rico will be grateful.” “Maybe. He might also learn things he doesn't want to know.” Castillo smiled, thinking back to those missions in the highlands so many years gone now. “Sometimes not knowing is better, but we never learn that until we know.” She kissed him, her lips teasing his before she pulled away. “And sometimes knowing is the greatest gift of all. You taught me that.” “I'll ride in with you in the morning. I need to make those calls from the office.” He smiled again, pushing pain back down inside. “I'm sure Sonny will be excited seeing me back.” “I just hope he doesn't shoot the fax machine before tomorrow morning!” Trudy laughed, and then Castillo saw her eyes change. “He's doing well, Marty. I know I said it before, but it surprises me. He was always such a hot dog, and now he's actually thinking before he goes through the door.” Castillo nodded. It was something he'd always seen in Crockett, and he was just glad the man finally seemed to be seeing it in himself. “I must be feeling better. I'm hungry.” He smiled. “Why don't you play that piano and I'll make us some Thai food.” He raised his hand when he saw the flash of worry in her eyes. “I'll go slow and let you know if I need any help. But I do love hearing you play.”

Trudy settled in behind the wheel of the Challenger, looking over and smiling at Martin Castillo. The hospital bracelet dangled loose at his wrist, begging for the scissors she'd take to it as soon as they were home. His eyes were closed, but she could see the faint smile on his lips. He was ready to leave, too. The big V-8 rumbled to life, and they eased out of the loading zone and into traffic. Marty opened his eyes and looked over at her. “Sounds like a real car, doesn't it? “Yes. I don't know where you found it, but it's perfect.” She sighed. “My brother always wanted one just like it. It'll be sad when I have to turn it back in.” “You don't have to.” He closed his eyes and eased back in the seat. “I bought it from seized property. It's yours.” “Marty? What?” She gaped at him, trying to keep one eye on the road so she didn't ram into any unsuspecting tourists or taxis. “How much was it?” “Not as much as it's worth.” He didn't open his eyes, but she saw his lips twitch into a smile. “I persuaded the clerk to discount it a bit.” They drove in silence for a time while she tried to wrap her head around what he'd said. First he wanted her to move in, then he bought her a car. It all seemed so right, but sometimes she felt her brain lurch like a car slammed into gear without enough clutch. She gripped the wheel with both hands, letting her heart do the talking. She understood then why he'd done it, and she loved him even more. It wasn't just about her brother or her sister. It was about her and him. They were waiting at a light before the freeway on ramp when Marty opened his eyes and looked out the window. “What's that kid doing?” Trudy looked and saw a Mustang lurching forward, stopping, and doing it again. The driver looked over, mirrored aviator shades reflecting the sunlight in a sharp dazzle, nodded, and lurched the car again. “He wants to race.” She chuckled. “He's an idiot. I don't care if that's one of the new 5.0 Mustangs. He doesn't have a chance.” She looked sideways at Marty. “He wants to race.” It came out as a statement and not a question. Reaching into his shirt pocket, Marty pulled out sunglasses that were almost black and slid them on. Then he smiled. Really smiled and said something Trudy never thought she'd hear him say. “Smoke him, baby.” Not trusting her voice, she just nodded and made eye contact with the kid. She nodded, pointing to the cross street light. She gave the Challenger a bit of gas, smiling as the engine rumbled, anticipating the race. She'd never really raced herself, but she'd ridden with her brother enough times she knew the moves. And she'd tried the Challenger out by herself on enough paved side streets and back roads she knew how it accelerated and its little quirks. She looked at the light, watching it go yellow and started counting. “Five seconds,” she muttered, foot on the gas. Waiting. “Three...two...” Realizing it was Marty's voice doing the count now. Then her light went green. Tires screamed as she floored the gas, the Challenger leaping away like it had been shot from a cannon. The kid tried, but it was no match at all. The big 440 howled under full power as Trudy grinned, knowing somewhere her brother was proud. On paper the Mustang should have been close, but whoever owned the Challenger before her had done some serious work on the engine. Tires barked as it shifted into high gear, rocketing up the on-ramp like a candy apple red missile, and she saw the kid concede defeat before they reached the highway. Still, she stayed on the gas, avoiding the traffic with a skill that might have made Crockett jealous. She was just enjoying it all. The thunder of the engine, the feel of the car, the way the suspension responded to every little shift of the steering wheel, and maybe most of all the smile that still decorated Martin Castillo's face. “I've never done that before,” he said once she eased back on the gas and was flowing with the usual afternoon traffic. “Never raced anyone in a car. I was always in some jungle somewhere. Fighting someone else's war and then my own war.” “I haven't done it since my brother was killed. I used to go out with him when he was prowling for a race. He said I brought him luck.” Trudy smiled at the memory. “I think he was just trying to get me out of the house. It wasn't always so great there, and when I was helping him with a car or out looking for a race it was...safe, I guess.” “I used to feel that way in the jungle. Or the mountains. It was terrain I understood. Even after Menton's ambush I still felt safe in the jungle.” Castillo closed his eyes again. “But things change.” She helped him into the house, smiling again as he insisted they stop to admire the car. “I'll get you settled and then I'll grab your bag,” she said as she unlocked the door. “You don't want to go running down to the beach just yet.” “As long as I can hear it they know I'm back,” he said, and she knew the painkillers will still doing their work. Still, she also understood what he meant. Some of those nights when she slept her alone she'd been sure she felt Jess' presence near the house. Something keeping watch, letting her know she was safe. He looked at her face and nodded. “You've felt them too. Good. That means the spirits have accepted you.” “I don't...” “I learned many things in those mountains in Laos from the Hmong there. That was one of them. The spirits are everywhere. Some strong, others weak.” Marty smiled again, sinking into the chair she set on the deck looking out toward the waves. “I didn't believe it at first, either, but then I found out. Or they found me. I think that's what the elder would have said. Think of the car. How it felt like there was someone else with us. Maybe there was.” He smiled again. “It's the pills. But I'm also tired. And glad Maynard wasn't a better shot.” “Let me get your bag and I'll bring you some water. The nurse said you need to stay hydrated, especially with those antibiotics.” She kissed him on the forehead and walked back through the house, letting her mind wrap itself around what he'd said. It wasn't her first experience with strange...hell, I still can't look at peanut butter without wanting to scream. And what he said made sense. It had felt like someone's hand was on the wheel with hers when they shot up the ramp. Just like she'd never worried about what might be outside, because the feeling matched exactly what Marty had told her about Jess. Right down to the way the waves sounded. He was asleep when she returned to the deck, his sunglasses sliding down his nose in the afternoon heat. Smiling, she pushed them back up and set the glass of ice water on the arm of his chair so it would be close by when he woke up. “A little sun won't hurt,” she muttered. “But I won't let you burn.” Inside she turned to making things ready for a recovering man. She moved some of the low chairs near windows, so he could still look out even if he couldn't walk around as much. The bedroom didn't need much attention, but she tossed his dirty clothes in the small washer and started a cycle. Stepping out, she found him in the main room, looking around with his water in his hand. “I missed this place,” he said as if seeing it for the first time. “But I missed being with you in this place more.” They sat for a time and talked as the sun slid toward the ocean. She told him of Sonny's first days in charge. “He's not doing bad at all,” she said with some wonder in her voice. “I never thought the cowboy could settle down.” “He's always had it in him. It showed when he apologized to Stan. And when I heard what he did with Maynard I knew he was ready.” “Who told you?” Trudy hadn't mentioned it because she still wasn't sure how to take the whole thing. And her memory was spotty after seeing Marty slumped in a pool of his own blood. “Randy. We spoke about it for a time. He was willing to give himself up to save all of you. That's what a leader does.” “And look where it got you.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but he just smiled. “A vacation with the woman I love. I'd say it's a price well-paid.” The sun faded away, and Sonny still sat at the damned desk working through papers. Stan and Lester had checked in late that afternoon, leaving a list of warrant requests and an excited Dave and Randy who wanted to start working their overwatch the next day. Sonny nodded, knowing the warrants required more paperwork and that he'd not be leaving until it was done or it was time to go see Trixie. And as the hours ticked by he knew which deadline would hit first. Tubbs danced in sometime after seven, clutching a greasy paper bag. “I thought I'd find you here. Brought you one of Roscoe's best bacon cheeseburgers and fries.” “Thanks. Just trying to finish up on the warrant requests for Stan and Lester.” “Solid. And I tracked down that weasel Izzy this afternoon at that fleapit of a hotel. He's on the case, or so he says.” Rico chuckled, pulling his own burger out of the bag. “But I did worm out of him that he's tight with one of the Dominicans. So there might actually be something to his noise for a change.” “I hope so. We could use some fresh intel.” Sonny looked down at the pile of papers and sighed. “Something fresher than Trixie at least.” He pulled his own burger out of the bag, unwrapped it, and pulled off the pickles. “Never know how long those damned things have been sitting open on the counter,” he said by way of explanation. “At least Roscoe's onions are fresh.” “Unlike this bag of fries.” Rico tore open a packet of ketchup and squirted the contents onto a napkin. “But what the hell, right? It's food.” “Pretty much.” They ate in silence for a time, watching as clouds slid in from the ocean and rain started tapping on the windows. Rico shook his head. “Great. Now I gotta get wet on top of everything else.” “Yeah, but it might wash the Rizzo's stink away faster.” He nodded. “Point. That place runs up my cleaning bills.” “I'll bet Marty loves it, though. Trudy called to say she got him home in one piece.” “That's good news. He's one tough cat.” Rico smiled, taking a bite of his burger. “Just call us Task Force Timex. Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'.” “You've got something there, partner.” Sonny laughed and scribbled the note on his pad. “We just might have to do that.” The rain kept falling while they ate and joked, and soon it wasn't possible to delay any longer. Sonny wadded up the bag and tossed the remains of the meal in the trash. “Guess it's almost showtime, Rico. I'll try not to scare the piss out of her this time.” “We got this one sewed up. Unless she's too high to remember her dealer's name.” “That is a worry. Well, let's get on with it. The sooner we're done, the less likely it is we pick up some contact disease from her.” “Did Stan ever hear back from Gina?” “If he asked over lunch he didn't say. And I didn't ask. Gina's not one to push about things like that.” “Yeah. Stan's a smart cat. He'll work it out one way or the other.” Rain splattered the windshield of the Ferrari, only to be swept away in turn by the wiper blades. It was coming down heavy, and Sonny could feel the tires float from time to time as they passed through spots where the storm drains weren't keeping pace. At least I got the boat shut up before I left this morning he thought, turning into Rizzo's parking lot and managing to find a spot close to the door. Elvis is gonna be pissed, though. He hates wet kibble. He shut off the car and looked over at Rico. “I hope that suit don't melt.” “Just stay out of my way until we get to that damned awning.” Rico grinned and reached for the door. The air conditioning chilled Sonny to the bone until it leeched some of the moisture from his blazer. The doorman sent them through with a grin, and soon enough the cigarette smoke wrapped itself around them like a fog, welcoming them to Rizzo's. Even with a drink special the place was almost half-empty, and the girls looked to be dancing more out of reflex than any desire to earn tips from men who weren't there. They spotted Trixie soon enough; her blue hair made her hard to miss. She'd switched her first dance with another girl in exchange a drink tray, and her face lit up when she saw Sonny and Rico by the bar. “Heads up,” Sonny whispered. “Incoming.” “You boys want a drink? Or something stronger?” Her voice was slurred, but more from the buzz that came from a needle. Rico looked at Sonny and shook his head. “Trixie! Come on over. My friend sends his compliments. That taste was excellent, and he wants more. He's looking for quantity, though.” “I don't understand?” “Means he wants more than a baggie or two, darlin'.” Sonny leaned over, feeling her pull back but not letting his sympathy for the girl show through the Burnett mask. “Means he wants more than you got.” “My friend here is a bit blunt, but it's true.” Tubbs raised his hands and shrugged. “He's talking more than a few grams.” Her eyes went wide. “But I don't have that much!” Sonny took her by the arm, careful to use a light touch, and guided her toward the far end of the bar. “I know, darlin'. That's why we said something about your source last night. Your dealer. Remember?” “My dealer? He's a nice guy. You'll like him. He don't take freebies, either.” She smiled, showing those bad teeth again. “He's got class like you guys do.” “He got a name?” Sonny tried not to show any emotion, keeping Burnett firmly in place. Rico turned on a touch of the Cooper charm. “We just want to talk with him. And we'll get you a finder's fee. Some money for setting us up to meet. We'll take care of you.” She looked from one man to the other, fear still clear in her eyes when she looked at Sonny. Finally she nodded. “That sounds fair. I mean, it sounds really fair. He'll be in soon. He always comes by on Thursday to hook me up.” She looked back to Sonny. “Promise me you won't mess him up? Nicky's a nice guy.” Well, well. “Don't worry, darlin'. It so happens I know Nicky. We go back a ways. He's safe with me. I promise.” She tottered away on unstable heels, and Rico looked like he was about to explode. “We came to this disease-infested cesspool only to find out we're meeting Nicky Fuentes?” “Look at it this way, Rico. At least it's the scumbag we know instead of a new scumbag we don't. And you'll look natural still trying to find a solid heroin supplier. Mr Cooper from New York City, that is.” Tubbs nodded, straightening his tie. “There is that. And here the little chump comes now. He look like he's thinking of running? He is supposed to be in hiding, after all.” “Kinda, but Trixie's got him now. I don't see how that girl can move so fast in those heels as high as she is.” Sonny watched, calling the action like a radio announcer. “She's got him. Nicky looks spooked. Is he gonna run? Thinking about it. Now she's showing him the money. Got her hand on his junk. Nicky's confused. More money talk, I'd say. And he's sold. Here he comes.” Nicky sauntered over, sweat beading on his forehead as he drew near. “Sonny! Rico! Long time no see. I was afraid you got swept up in that whole shitstorm with the Coast Guard.” Rico smiled. “We're slicker than that, Nicky. Can't say the same for your associates, though.” Sonny nodded. Nicky was still wearing the same pink tux and still failing at the tough junior high kid look. Some things never change. “Yeah. Made me wonder if you're worth dealing with. Trixie says you are, and Cooper's a forgiving kinda guy.” The 'but I'm not' hung unspoken in the thick air. “Sure he is. I've known that for a while now. We go back, don't we, Cooper?” “Not as far as Burnett and I do. And I'm not interested in a freebie from you, so let's get down to it.” “That's funny.” Nicky's laugh was a strangled, high thing that made Sonny want to punch him in the throat. “So what are we talkin' about?” “The product we got from Trixie last night. Red Cross looks to be the brand. My associate was impressed by the quality. It's better than the sample we got from the late and unlamented Tio.” “Tio liked to step on the product. I don't.” Nicky grinned, showing teeth almost as back as Trixie's. “You got to respect the brand or it ain't worth nothin'.” “Oh, I agree. That's why we want Red Cross. At least a pound of it.” “A...a pound?” “Too much weight for you, Nicky boy?” Sonny leaned around Rico, reminding the punk he was still there. “Maybe we should talk to your boss.” “No, Burnett. I am the boss. It's just...this stuff takes time to bring in, you know? It's not stepped on by some wetback smuggler and it ain't Mexican brown. China White straight from the Golden Triangle. The promised land. The thing is, it's harder to speed up flow at that distance.” “Well you do what you can, Nicky. My associates are already a bit pissed about the whole Tio incident. Much more and they'll send me someplace else to look. And you'll miss all that money.” “What are we talkin', Cooper?” “Enough so you don't have to beg freebies from Trixie.” Rico smiled. “We'll talk price once I know you can actually deliver. My associates were disappointed once. I'm not going to make that mistake again.” “What mistake?” “Taking some punk's word without product in hand.” Sonny stepped around Rico and got up in Nicky's face. “Look...we've been jacked around by you assholes enough. No one's taking your word for squat until you prove you can deliver.” Rico touched Sonny's arm. “Sorry, Nicky. Burnett gets a little hot when someone tries to kill him and he loses his piece of what might have been a multi-million dollar deal. I'm sure you understand.” Nicky took several deep breaths. The sweat was running down his forehead now, and Sonny shifted to be upwind in case other substances started running freely. He hadn't intended to get that aggressive, but it looked to have worked. “You got it, Cooper. You got it. Look. Give me your pager number and I'll call you tomorrow with details. We can meet and you can inspect the product. Ok? You ok with that, Burnett?” “I'll let you know tomorrow. After we see the goods.” Sonny turned, leaving Rico to sort out the details. He'd done his bit. Now it was time for Cooper to work his magic. It was still raining when they left Rizzo's, a steady drizzle calculated to soak a man through over time instead of just washing him away. They stood under the awning while Sonny lit a cigarette. “You think he pissed his pants?” “I don't know, Tubbs. Didn't stay in close nose range to find out. It got the point across, though.” “That it did.” Rico looked like he was thinking hard about something. “That it did.” “You think I cut it too close? Is that it?” “No. I think you played it just right. What bothers me is I didn't see it coming. I didn't even think to lean on the little chump.” Sonny sent a stream of smoke into the wet air as they walked to the Ferrari. “Nicky's not an easy one to take seriously, man. Especially in that damned pink tux of his. No reason you'd think to lean on him.” “That's not it.” Tubbs waited until the Ferrari was in traffic heading back to the underground garage. “My mind was only half in it, Sonny. The other...” “Yeah, I get it. Rico Junior. Trust me, Tubbs, I'm pushing those bozos as hard as I can. Where there's one photo there's gotta be more. You know the DEA. You'll have your answer, partner. Even if I have to beat it out of the regional supervising agent downtown.” “That grease stain? Hell, I'd pay to watch that.” Rico was quiet for a time. “Thanks. Sonny. I owe you one.” “No, you don't. We're all square as far as I'm concerned. You deserve to know, and I'm gonna do what I can to close that for you.” He turned the Ferrari into the garage and left the engine running. “Get some rest and come in focused in the morning. You cool to head home?” “Yeah. See you in the morning.” Tubbs got out and Sonny watched him fire up the big Caddy and wheel out into the falling rain. I know what it feels like to lose a son, he thought as he put the Ferrari in gear and headed for the marina. I hope we get some answers for him. Ricardo Tubbs stared straight ahead through the swiping wiper blades, focusing on the path his headlights blazed through the falling rain and reflected off the wet streets. He didn't really want to go back to Casa Cooper alone, but he also knew he wasn't going to call Debbie and lead her on or call Nita and get some kind of fight going between the two. No, he'd have to sort this one out on his own. He'd thought leaving New York would change things. Leave his mess of a family behind and start over. But New York had a way of following him, first as Valerie and later as Angelina. Valerie he could blame because, as always, she knew what she was doing. Angelina had been a total accident, but one that had its start in New York. If her father hadn't have had Rafael killed he wouldn't have been following the man and never would have seen her painting on the beach. And he would never had had a son. Parking the big car, he rode the quiet elevator up to the top floor and went through the ritual of hanging up his jacket and tie. The apartment was dark, with only the low hiss of the air ducts competing with rain pattering on the big glass windows. Smiling, he walked over to the stereo and hit buttons, flooding the corner of the room with a soft blue glow as the equalizer kicked on and the turntable arm fell on an album. Charlie Parker's plaintive saxophone filled the room, tripping up and down the scales of “April in Paris.” Jazz was one of his secret passions, something he turned to when he needed to get his head right. It was a habit he'd picked up from his mother. Filling a glass with ice cubes, he poured scotch and stood in front of the sliding glass door, watching water stream down as the rain caught on the top ledge and flowed down to the sloping patio surface. It felt too good in the room to open the door, but he could still look out and pretend he could smell the rain in the air. “What the hell am I gonna do?” The question hung in the air, suspended by Parker's mournful notes. He enjoyed the hell out of the task force, and the latitude they had for conducting operations thrilled him to the core. But it was his life outside of work, or to be more accurate his total lack of a life outside of work, that worried him the most. Finding his son was more an excuse than a goal if he was honest with himself. If the boy was dead, it was over. And if he wasn't, it might as well be over, too. How could he rip a kid away from the only family he'd ever known and think he'd be better off? There were no easy answers. He'd known that as soon as his father cut him out of his life, angry his only surviving son had betrayed him by continuing to wear the uniform he blamed for the death of his oldest child. He'd told himself that he'd come to Miami to avenge Rafael and make his father proud, but in the end it had been all about revenge and getting away. The ice cubes were cold against his teeth as Rico took a drink. It was no accident. He only wanted one drink, and the best way to do that was make it weak and cold by having it on the rocks. It was all about taking the edge off tonight. He smiled as the album rolled on to the next track and more Bird flowed like sonic gold through the room. He could feel things settling down inside, falling into place where they'd been jumbled before. Maybe now he could sleep. Sonny Crockett wasn't sure what he'd find when he parked at the marina. Jenny's boat was still tied up, and with her he could never be sure if she'd be there or on board the St Vitus Dance. She'd shown a knack for breaking into his boat, but never strayed past the main saloon. Another of her quirks he had a hard time sorting through. If she was keeping tabs on him, wouldn't she want to go through the entire boat? Or was it something else? He still didn't know, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. Especially since he could feel himself falling for her. The Vellamo was dark and quiet, without even the firefly of a Virginia Slims in the rear seating area to mark her passing. “Great,” he muttered as he walked by. “She's either asleep or waiting for me.” Given her strange mood the night before he found himself wishing she was asleep in her own berth. Then he saw a flickering light through the open port and knew exactly where she was. “Damn.” The companionway was open, and a fed and happy Elvis lounged in his usual spot in the bow. Ducking his head he went below and found her sitting at the small table, cards laid out in front of her and her clothes laid neatly on the galley counter. Rain thudded on the cabin roof, and the candle flickered with each breath of air, sending narrow shadows shooting across her high breasts and thick hair. She'd done the candle and no clothes routine before, but this was the first time he'd seen her with Tarot cards. It wasn't Sonny's first encounter with them, but he'd never actually seen anyone using them before. She looked up when he came down, her eyes bright but her lips sad. “You finally came home,” she said, making it sound more like an accusation. “Maybe I should just give you a key to the place.” The words came out sharper than he'd intended, and he smiled to ease the sudden hurt in her eyes. “Sorry...it's been a long day. But just seeing you like that helps. Anyone ever tell you you're beautiful?” “No.” Her voice was serious. “Pretty or cute, but never beautiful.” “Then they never saw you like this.” He looked down at the cards. “You do that often?” “Not really.” She gave them a final look, as if she was memorizing each card and its exact position, then swept them aside with her long fingers. “And before you ask, they didn't say anything important. It's a way to pass time.” He could see the lie in her eyes before she blinked and swept it away, too. Then she stood up, hands at her sides, letting him see all of her. “Am I still beautiful?” “Of course.” “What about now?” She blew out the candle, plunging the saloon into sudden darkness. What the hell is she playing at? “Sure. You're beautiful because you're you.” She giggled, and a match flared yellow and gold as she lit the candle again. “You're sweet to say that. Come over here and let me show you how sweet I think you are.” As they came together, him shedding his clothes with help from her long, eager fingers, he couldn't shake the look he'd seen in her eyes just before she stood up. What the hell is this girl playing at? Can't roll with this much longer, I don't think. Shit is getting strange. Then her lips found him and he forgot all about strange. She was still asleep in the aft stateroom when the sun started peaking over the eastern horizon. Sonny crawled out of bed without waking her and went about making coffee and getting ready to head in. She only stirred when he kissed her lightly on the lips. “Rest easy, baby. I'll look for you tonight either here or on Vellamo.” He hoped she'd be on her boat, but he'd learned by now never to assume anything where Jenny Walker was concerned. Mindy had beaten him to work. Again. Sonny smiled, convinced now he'd have to sleep in the office to get there first. And even then he wasn't sure she wouldn't invent a time machine just to arrive two seconds before he did. She looked up from her paper, her blue eyes bright as ever. “Good morning, boss. Any luck with Trixie last night?” “Yeah. She gave us Nicky Fuentes on a platter. At least we don't have to go digging around in any sewers to find the little rat now.” He chuckled. “Any urgent calls I can ignore for at least an hour?” “Nothing urgent. Just another fax from ATF wanting to know why we don't have taps on Lester Holmes' operation.” “Shred that mother. They got the only answer I'm gonna give them.” She smiled. “Consider it done. Oh, and you had a message from Gina. She said to give her a call sometime after ten.” “How did she sound?” “Fine. I could hear Stan in the background so I'd guess she called from home.” “If Stan makes it in undamaged she's in a good mood. If he's got black eyes or missing limbs I'm not returning the call.” Sonny laughed, the mood he'd carried since last night sliding away. “I'm gonna go check those urgent faxes. Let me know if anything comes up. And have Rico stop by when he gets in.” “You got it, boss.” She smiled and went back to her Miami Herald. Castillo's office was cool and dim, the sun blocked by blinds drawn the night before. Sonny left them alone; he'd come to appreciate Castillo's habit of working in the dark. Switching on the desk lamp, he pulled a small stack of papers off the fax machine and started flipping through them. “Another exciting day of pushing paper,” he muttered. “I don't know how Marty could stand it.” In the end it was Randy who saved him by sticking his head in the office door. “Boss? You got a second? Dave and I have some overwatch ideas.” Sonny dropped the papers with a grin. “Sure. Anything's better than death by blurry interoffice fax.” They had the map spread out on the big table, Dave sitting on one side with what looked to be a stack of range cards. Stan and Lester had snuck in at some point, and they sat together with notebooks comparing something they'd each scribbled to the actual map. Randy waved Sonny to his new seat at the head of the table. “We took the roach coach all over this AO,” he said, lapsing into military jargon when he called the map an area of operations. “And we think we got some high ground spotted where we can overwatch these intersections.” He pointed to zones on the map colored red. “Like we said yesterday, those are the main combat zones right now. From here” - he pointed to a building - “we can cover these two perfectly. The building's six stories. It's an old hotel someone tried to convert to office space, so half of it's unoccupied.” “At least half.” Dave snorted. “Getting roof access should be easy as hell. We can infil during the afternoon and exfil before dawn.” “According to the intel we got, these zones are most active as soon as the sun goes down. We'll do some spotting during the day, but we think it'll be most productive at night.” Sonny nodded. “You have the night vision stuff today. Set up as soon as you're ready. I want some faces to go with names and a better idea of what's happening down there.” Then he thought back to last night. “There's a guy you'll need to watch for. I'll have his file for you before you leave. Nicky Fuentes. He's the face of the heroin so far, and he's back on the street. Tubbs and I met him again last night. He knows Burnett and Cooper from the Moncado operation so we've saved some time.” Stan chuckled. “Lester and I were just plotting tap locations and the best times to put them in. Assuming you got the warrant paperwork done.” “Who do you think you're dealing with?” Sonny laughed. “Wait...you know who you're dealing with. Yeah, Stan. I got those done last night. Even signed my own name and everything without Tubbs' help.” “So I'm five minutes late and you're already talking bad about me?” Rico looked tired, but the box of donuts he carried explained why he was late. “Mindy already picked hers, and I'm saving the chocolate old-fashioned for Trudy. Take it and you answer to her.” They talked around the table for a few more minutes, Sonny mostly clarifying small details and making sure everyone had the gear they needed. “We'll borrow a Ma Bell truck for you, Stan, so you don't look out of place climbing poles with the roach coach parked nearby.” He looked at Stan's remaining bandages. “You sure you can make it up a phone pole?” “Lester and I drew straws. I lost.” Stan chuckled. “No, I'm good, Sonny. Truth is I could use the exercise.” Sonny smiled and looked at his watch. “Just after ten. Not bad. Let's get to work, girls.” He sighed. “And I've got paper to fight still.” Rico followed him into the office. “Not a peep from Nicky yet.” “Not surprised. I'm getting Randy and Dave his picture so they can keep an eye out for the little punk.” Sonny flipped through the faxes that had come in during the roundtable and leaned out the door. “You got your warrants, Stan. Have Mindy call about the van. My authority.” “Any word from Trudy?” “No, but last night was Marty's first night home. I figure she'll get here when she gets here.” “Solid.” Tubbs nodded. “Now I gotta call Gina.” He reached for the phone, not sure quite what to expect. The familiar voice answered the second ring. “Detective Calabrese.” “It's Sonny.” There was a long pause. “Stan told me you wanted something from my girls, Crockett.” Sonny gave Rico a thumbs down. It's never good when she uses my last name. “It's nothing like that, Gina. I don't want 'em to wear wires or do anything that would put them in danger. We just need information about these neighborhoods.” He rattled off the bordering street names almost by memory now. “What they see. Who's selling. Who's packing heat. What the Feds call 'atmospherics' these days, I guess. I don't even need to talk to them if that makes you feel better.” He heard her exhale. “It does, Sonny. You talking to someone usually leads to a wire or something worse.” He heard papers shifting. “I can put some stuff together for you. I've got a few girls who come from those areas. Some of them still work there, or get their drugs there. How soon do you need it?” “The sooner the better, darlin'. We're playing catch-up over here. Metro-Dade knows where the bodies are falling, but they don't seem to know much about why.” He paused. “I owe you, Gina.” “I know you do, Sonny. Don't let Stan do anything crazy.” Then she hung up. “That didn't sound good.” “As good as can be expected, I guess.” Sonny hung up the phone with a rueful expression. “She's still pissed about Stan and I'm a handy target, I guess.” “Hell, she should be pissed at Moncado. Or Holmes. He sold them that LAW. At least be pissed at the right person.” “You know Gina, Rico.” Sonny scratched his chin. “ATF was after those taps again today. Maybe we should start keepin' tabs on what they're doing over there.” “Who's got the time? Let them put on their fancy windbreakers and strut around busting cowboys and bikers.” Dave stuck his head in. “At least it ain't the Feebs floundering around holding press conferences. ATF ain't bad. Some of 'em, anyhow.” He chuckled. “Just wanted you to know that gear came in, boss. Deputy from the office brought it over.” “Good.” Sonny looked at Dave for a moment. “I thought your brother was FBI. You don't like them much, do you?” “Was FBI. He was workin' a case in Butte. Something with deep Mafia ties. Then he an' his wife get killed in what they claimed was a car accident. Drunk driver, even though the other driver disappeared clean off the earth. Even Butte PD didn't buy the story, but the Feebs shouted 'case closed' and shut the whole thing down tight as you please.” “So they hung one of their own?” “Looked like it to me. The Special Agent in Charge was a grade-A prick looking to make a name for himself, but not by rattling the cage of the Mafia.” Dave frowned. “Sad thing is they left a kid behind. A son. He was in high school at the time, and I couldn't get back to do anything for him. Not that I'd be much damned help with a kid anyhow.” “What happened to him?” “College. Then he kinda dropped out of sight. Last I heard he might have been recruited by the CIA.” Dave shook his head. “Damned smart kid. Quiet, though. And a hell of a pistol shot. Can't say I've seen many who are better, and the last time I saw him shoot he was fifteen.” He shrugged. “Sorry for the long answer, boss. But that's why I hate the Feebs.” Rico nodded. “Hell, I hate them after hearing that story.” “You and Randy need anything else? Grab what you need and set up when you like. Brief me in the morning just so I know how it went if you need any support. After that, I'm good with logs and spot reports if anything juicy shows up. You guys don't need hand-holding and I ain't a hand-holding kinda guy.” Once Dave left, Rico turned to Sonny with a hurt expression. “You always said you'd hold my hand.” “So I lied.” Sonny chuckled. “Where do you need me today, partner?” “Good question, Rico. I wish I had as good an answer for you.” Sonny leaned back in the chair, realizing he'd never seen Castillo do that in all the years he'd worked for the man. “We're kinda stuck until you hear from Nicky or that weasel Moreno turns up something. It's too soon to go bugging him again, and when you do I want to come along.” He waved his hand at the papers. “Even bumping gums with Izzy Moreno is better than this crap. Maybe Mindy's got something. I know she's still scrambling until Trudy comes back full time.” “Yeah. I'll check.” Rico nodded, but didn't move. Sonny noticed the distance in his eyes. “Out with it, partner. Your son still bothering you?” “It's that, Sonny, and more. Hell, man. Seems like everyone's moving forward except me.” “Except us, you mean.” Sonny turned and looked out the big window without seeing the blue sky on the other side. “Hell, man. I'm only sitting in this chair because Castillo took one that might have been meant for one of us. I get it, Rico. I do. Hell, I went to college, joined the Marines, to get away from all this and now I'm right back in it. Only the names change. If you squint even the faces seem to stay the same.” “Yeah. I left New York to start over.” “Valerie bugging you again?” “No. I finally got over that one. It's more the baggage. I never would have met Angelina if Calderone hadn't have had Rafael killed. In New York.” “Yeah. And I've got this weird lady who keeps showing up in my boat wearing nothing or next to nothing and talking in riddles. Even Elvis don't snarl at her anymore.” He shook his head. “I can't tell if she's playing me or is just another one of the crazies attracted to the Sonny charm.” “Shades of Margaret from New York.” “Yeah, except Jenny makes Margaret look like a Sunday school teacher.” Sonny sighed. “Look at us, man. Two guys crawling into middle age whining about our ladies. Maybe we should join one of those bowling leagues.” “Middle age? Speak for yourself, Crockett. Ricardo Tubbs is still in his prime!” “Knock it off, man. The only reason you wanted to meet Izzy alone yesterday is so you could buy some of those knock-off shoes of his without anyone laughing at you.” Sonny grinned. “Joo know...these come from the very feet of the American Gigolo himself. Joo can even smell his sweat. His mainly essentials.” “Stop, man. Just stop. And don't let him hear you say that. He might steal the line.” “I'm just giving you a hard time, Rico. I get it. I feel the same way most days. Maybe you were right, partner. Maybe the Job is all we're supposed to have. Two dinosaurs they send in to clean up the messes.” “I'll go see if Mindy needs anything. At least she's off those crutches now.” Tubbs got up, but stopped in the doorway. “And Sonny? Thanks.” “Any time, partner. It's what we do.” But Sonny didn't turn back to his paperwork right away. Instead he turned and looked back out the window, seeing the sky this time. It was the first time he'd ever heard Rico talk about New York that way, and it made him wonder. Was it just thoughts of his son eating at Rico or was something else going on? Since he'd been moved to the corner office they hadn't hung out as much, and he felt like he was losing a connection that had been strong before. Before he could give it much thought the fax machine dinged and started spewing out another sheet of blurry paper.

Sonny whistled as Rico unboxed the Walther. “Nice looking piece you got there. How many does it hold? Fifteen?” “Yeah. I'll still have the Smith on my ankle, but that show in the Keys convinced me it's time.” Rico hefted the pistol, looking uncomfortable with the weight and the grip. “Damn! Gonna take some getting used to.” “Take your time. Just shoot in and let it happen. You'll adjust quicker than you think.” Sonny pulled out his own new acquisition: a Smith & Wesson 4506-1. The rough edges he'd found on the 645 and first 4506 were gone, leaving a sleek stainless steel weapon reminding him of what might happen if a Colt M1911-A1 and a Browning Hi-Power could have kids. It was still big, bigger than Rico's Walther, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away from .4e5 ACP. And he'd never had one of his Smiths jam. Ever. Even when he'd been forced to use some really crappy military surplus ammo on a case in the Everglades years gone now. Tubbs nodded, slamming a magazine home and working the slide, feeding a round into the chamber. He slipped his earphones on and sighted downrange. The Walther cracked with authority, and Sonny watched his parter control the recoil and send another round downrange. Then a third. And then he snapped off five in rapid succession. Soon enough the slide locked back on an empty magazine and Tubbs was grinning like a guy who'd gotten lucky on prom night. “Damn!” “How's she shoot?” “Like a dream, man! I don't even wanna see the paper off that one, but it sure is fun to shoot. Recoil's better than my .38, and it's a hell of a lot faster.” “Sure. You got more weight dealing with the recoil and a better grip besides.” Sonny loaded his own pistol and checked both sides to make sure they were clear. “Let me send a mag downrange and then we'll haul the paper in.” There were no surprises in the 4506-1, except the thinner frame made it easier to reach the slide release and he liked the new grips better. Eight rounds went by in two blinks of an eye and he set the locked-back pistol on the bench next to a stack of loaded magazines. “Let's see how much we embarrassed ourselves.” He looked down the range. “Clear!” They laid their targets on the shooting bench, and Sonny peered intently at Rico's through his Ray-Bans. “That's not a bad group at all for the first time out of the box. I'd say you got a winner there, Rico.” “Yeah. Once I settled down it looks good.” Tubbs slammed a fresh magazine into the Walther but left the slide back. “I don't know about you, but I can go for a few more mags.” “It takes around a hundred rounds to really hit the groove of a new pistol. And I don't know about you, but I brought at least that many and I got no place to be until Trudy and Mindy finish their magic. It's hotter than hell out here, damned it if the company ain't good.” “Yeah, partner. I got at least that much, too. Let's see how she does.” It was mid-afternoon before the last echoes of their shots chased each other across the range. Sonny lowered his smoking pistol, squinting into the glare through his sunglasses and feeling confident about his last group. He'd been methodical in his practice today, working from one target group on the silhouette to the next, going for controlled two-shot strings calculated to bring a target down. Beside him Tubbs had settled down soon enough and started trying the same technique, cussing from time to time as he remembered he had three times the number of bullets he'd been training with for well over a decade. Shaking his head, Tubbs lowered his own gun. “I shoulda changed years ago, Sonny. Damn.” “Now you gotta figure out how to carry it and where to keep the extra mags.” Sonny lifted his arm. “You get those suits altered you could go with a rig like mine. Shoulder rig isn't for everyone, but I like it. Hip's a good option, too. Pistol on one side, mags on the other. You can do regular or cross draw.” “Been thinkin' about that. I think I'll carry in the same place I did my Chief's Special. One less habit to retrain that way.” Sonny nodded. “Makes sense. I can put you in touch with the guy who made my holster. You'll want a good rig for that Walther. Good, solid leather that will hold up. That and pouches for two mags on the other hip.” “Solid.” Tubbs looked at the piles of spent brass. “Who picks this crap up?” “The range hires someone. I think they reload most of it and use it for classes. Anyhow, we'd better get back and clean these babies. Florida climate plays hell with firearm finishes. That's why I went stainless.” Tubbs groaned. “Now he tells me.” Mindy and Trudy were still working with the information Narcotics had sent over when Sonny and Rico got back to the office. Stan was helping them, sorting through bits that might lead to taps or potential visual surveillance spots for him and Lester. Trudy sniffed. “Smells like two boys have been out playing with their new toys.” “Yeah, and now we gotta clean 'em.” Sonny held up his hand. “And yes, we'll turn the fan on this time.” They were almost done when Trudy stuck her head through the doorway. “Sonny, I...” “Go. Say hello to him for us.” Once she left he waited a moment and then turned to Tubbs. “I hope they do let him go home today. That girl needs a good night's sleep.” Stan came through next. “I talked to Lester, Sonny. They're changing the sling on his arm so he's not gonna make it today. He promises he'll be here tomorrow, though.” “Don't worry about it, Stan. He'll be in as soon as he's ready.” Sonny smiled. “And you look like the King made you run ten miles in his blue suede shoes. Why don't you call it a day, too? Unless Mindy needs your help.” “We're almost done anyhow, boss,” Mindy's voice echoed from the big table. “I just need his help with one more thing.” “Do that and you're out, Stan. That's an order.” “You got it, Sonny.” Stan grinned and turned back to the conference room. “So do I get to go home early, dad?” “Hell, why not?” Sonny chuckled. “Actually we'll look through the intel first. There might be something there we can follow up on without dragging the rest of them into it.” He snapped the slide release into place in the lower frame of the 4506-1 and let the slide rack forward on an empty chamber. Mindy was still staring at her notepad when Sonny and Rico finished in the arms room. “You weren't kidding when you said they didn't have much, boss,” she said with a sigh. “Lots of gossip and street talk, but nothing concrete.” “How the hell does someone even do that?” “It's easy, Rico. Well, it's easy if you're patient and not greedy. And this guy seems to be both. Doc, or whatever his name is, moves his heroin in small batches. And he never seems to come into contact with whoever's doing the actual selling. It moves through at least two hands first, maybe more. I think that's how Reno got involved. He bought from Tio, who in turn got his from someone else. I think Tio was the one who did the cutting, too. There's no sign any of Doc's batches were bad before or since.” Sonny nodded. “Narcotics was close to the same thing.” “Yes. And they chased it as far as the Dominican neighborhoods.” Mindy pointed to the map. “But that's where it gets fuzzy.” “Yeah.” Tubbs nodded. “Dominicans, at least those Dominicans, deal mostly in weed. A little coke from time to time.” “I'll need to keep working it, and maybe get Stan a sealed warrant or two. But I think I'm on to something, boss. It's not just Dominicans like Narcotics thinks. The intel we got from the chief deputy filled some of that in. It's specific Dominicans.” “If Nicky Fuentes is trying to assume Tio's crown, he's the key.” Sonny looked at the map, fascinated by the network of lines and colors taking shape. “He can't do that without dealing with Tio's sources. Or at least one of his sources. And that would explain how Robbie heard about it.” He turned to Mindy. “He says there's a group of old-school Dominicans who drink in his place every Thursday.” “And little Nicky's gone to ground. Or so I hear.” “Then we'll just have to root him out, Rico. Or see if Izzy knows what hole the little rat crawled into. If anyone knows rat lairs, it's Izzy.” “But that means we gotta find that rat. Didn't they kick him out of the safe house after we took Maynard and Moncado down?” “Officially, maybe. But I made a call to the chief deputy. Izzy's still got that room, and there's so many old folks around there for him to scam I don't think he'll move until they lynch him or run him out of town.” Rico nodded. “That does remind me, though. Are we still after the other side of Maynard's little empire? Homie or whatever his name was.” “Holmes. E. Lester Holmes if I read the file right.” Sonny chuckled. “Naw. ATF stuck their big noses in and wanted it. Fine by me, actually. We don't have the people to go after him and those gangs, and messing around with redneck arms dealers always made me nervous.” “Made you nervous?” Tubbs held up his hands. “I'm the wrong color entirely to go wadin' around in some swamp looking for those chumps.” “Yeah. And Burnett's cover don't work too good around that kind. I think Stan's still got an active tap or two on them, but that's it. Besides, without Maynard to buy his boom sticks he's just another garden-variety paranoid redneck sellin' guns to bikers.” Mindy looked up from her notes again. “I've been connecting some dots, and I'd say if Nicky wants a shot at this he's going to have to hook up with those two older gangs. The 8-Ball Kings or the Double Treys. And that's not going to be easy for him. According to Gangs and the chief deputy's intel they like to deal with Dominicans only, and he's not. Tio was.” “You think the heroin comes from them?” “I don't know. But it might come through the neighborhoods they control.” She pointed to the map. “See those red circles? Those are disputed zones. It's where the Columbians are trying to push in. That means taking out or turning dealers. It's mostly coke and weed, but there is heroin in there, too. Not much, but it's there.” “So little Nicky has to go try to dance the Mamba with old-school pistoleros who'd rather slit his throat than look at him?” Tubbs grinned. “Where can I get tickets?” Sonny started to speak, but felt an unfamiliar weight in his throat. “I'd love to jump in, but we need more info first. I might have Stan talk to Gina again. See if she can track any of her girls into that combat zone. Mindy, be sure to include one or two of those in the profiles you build for Randy and Dave. But do it tomorrow. You've done great work today. Go home and ice that ankle.” He looked at the files and maps. “It's a great start, but I feel like we need a bit more. Something's still missing, and I don't want to send people in there until I know what it is.” Rico waited until Mindy left before he let out a long laugh. “What was that I just heard? The great Sonny Crockett being responsible?” “Something like that.” Sonny sat down at the head of the table, staring at the papers without seeing any of it. “Hell, Rico. It's different when all you're doing is running and gunning. Now I have to think about everyone. And everything. I'd go out with the information we have now, but I can't ask someone else to do it knowing we don't have the best picture we can.” “What about Trixie? She's supposed to work tonight, isn't she?” Rico flipped through his battered leather notebook. “Yeah. Wednesday through Friday from ten until two. We catch her now she might not have scored yet.” “By Friday she's likely a basket case with tracks up and down her arms.” Sonny stood up with a groan. “Let's grab some chow and get our shots before we hit Rizzo's.” They hit the door just after ten, hearing the blown speakers pumping out an old Rolling Stones song followed by a ferocious track by a band Sonny remembered was called Motley Crue. He looked at Rico and grinned. “Now that's music to strip by, my friend.” Rico nodded. “Better than the Stones. You were right, again. This place needs Noogie.” Once they were inside, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke and the stench of desperate men and cheap perfume, he leaned closer. “How do you want to play this?” “I'd say we're just two joes looking to score. Maybe hit up one or two of the other girls first so it doesn't look like we came in special for her.” Sonny looked around. “Yeah, I'd say that's her on the pole back from Noogie's. Bad boob job and crazy blue hair.” “And no rhythm at all. I can see why she's part time.” Rico shook his head. “I'll bet Stan could do better.” “Hell, Lester could do better with his crutches and sling.” Sonny turned to the bar and ordered two drinks. “Well, we'd better get in character. This could be a long-ass night.” They caught Trixie after her first lackluster set, when Rizzo's sent the girls out with trays and skimpy bikini bottoms to work the crowd and generate green. Rico led in, his bright Cooper smile plastered on his face. “The one and only Trixie! It's an honor to meet you.” She turned to them, and Sonny saw the heroin glaze over her eyes. Damn. She's dosed already. “Come on and have a drink,” he said, following his partner's lead. “Princess and Jinx both told us you were the lady to talk to.” “They did?” Her eyes partly focused on two other girls working the floor. “Sure! They said they couldn't help us, but you could.” Sonny chuckled. “Great set, by the way. The dancing, too.” “What? Oh, thanks.” She gave them a lopsided smile and looked down at her boobs like she was seeing them for the first time. “I paid top dollar for them, you know.” Rico grinned. “And worth every penny. But you gotta say you can help us. Like my buddy said, Princess and Jinx couldn't do a thing.” “Well, ok. But not both of you at the same time. And I don't do...” “That's not it, Trixie. Another time, maybe, but that's not what we're lookin' for.” Sonny leaned over to make sure she heard him. “We're looking for some party favors.” “Oh. Sorry.” Her smile was almost genuine this time. “Been a long day. Yeah, I might be able to help you out with that.” Her eyes narrowed. “You ain't cops, are you?” “Us?” Tubbs opened his eyes wide in mock horror. “Come on! We're too well-dressed for cops.” She smiled again. “You are at least.” She looked at Sonny again with narrowed eyes. “Him I'm not too sure about, though.” Sonny dropped the act. “The name Burnett mean anything to you?” Her eyes went wide, and the drink tray almost slipped from her shaking hands. “Oh! I”m sorry, Mr. Burnett. I didn't...” “It's ok, darlin'. No harm done.” He let his voice slide soft again to keep the deal moving. “I'm just out with my old friend Rico here and he's got a friend who's into some stuff I don't keep on hand.” “What's that? I though you...” “China White.” Rico smiled. “My friend is vary particular.” “And that's not somethin' I have experience with.” Sonny nodded toward the other girls. “But Princess and Jinx both said you could help us out with that.” “Maybe.” She looked at Sonny again. “I mean, sure I can. How much?” “He wants a taste. For now. Something to sample the quality.” “I don't do volume, Mr...Rico. I've got some for me and a bit extra to help pay off the tits.” She smiled and blushed. “I still owe on 'em.” Sonny sipped his drink, pretending to think on something. “Tell you what. You get us that taste now, and if it's good I'll pay those off for you. All you need to do is point us to your dealer.” “But I still owe over a grand!” Reaching into his pocket, Sonny counted out hundreds from a roll of money seized from Moncado's house. “And that's twelve. Those puppies are yours now. And I think we're good for the taste, too.” He added another hundred to the small pile. “Lucky thirteen. All yours, Trixie.” “Now be a good girl and fetch us that taste.” Once she turned and headed for the back, Rico grinned at Sonny. “Burnett sure comes in handy sometimes, don't he?” “Yeah. At least she didn't piss herself. One of these days that's gonna come back to bite me on the ass, though.” “I thought it already did with that Callie psycho?” “You're right. And somewhere out there is a Mikko with your name on her.” Tubbs sighed. “Don't I wish.” Then he laughed. “So long as some mountain of meat named Jimmy isn't tagging along I think I could handle her.” “Don't be too sure.” Sonny grinned and looked up. “And it looks like Trixie's on her way back.” Trixie tottered up to table, her unsteady gait hinting she might have taken something in the back to boost her confidence or settle her nerves. Sonny would have laid odds now she wouldn't make it through her next shift on the pole. Reaching into her bikini bottom, she pulled out a tiny plastic baggie. “Here's your taste, Mr. Rico. It's good shit. I swear.” She smiled, showing what had once been pretty teeth. “You want, I can even give you a freebie after my next set. Anything you want.” “Any other time I'd love to, Trixie. But my friend's waiting on this.” Rico smiled, touching her arm. “Tell you what. If it's good, we'll come back tomorrow and you can point us to where we can get more than one taste. And I'll pay for those boobs, too.” “But...” Then her eyes lit up. “Oh, I get it. Sure. I work tomorrow from ten until two.” She looked from Rico to Sonny and back again. “Are you sure neither of you want a freebie?” “If only we had time, darlin'.” Sonny looked at his watch. “Hell, we gotta get rollin', Rico. We're already late.” He smiled at Trixie again. “Pleasure doin' business with you. We'll see you tomorrow.” Once they were out on the street Tubbs exploded in laughter. “Freebie my ass! Well, it would be until the test results came back. Then you'd be payin' and payin'.” Sonny nodded, but a bit of him went out to the girl. “I can see why Gina made the move she did,” he said in a low voice. “You can tell she was pretty once.” “Now that's the Sonny I know.” Rico slapped him on the back. “I get it, Sonny. I guess I just saw too much of it growin' up. Girls with no hope. Once they got hooked on smack it was all over.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the baggie. “I should have had this decontaminated considering where it was.” “Yeah.” Sonny reached out. “Let me see that.” He moved closer to the streetlight and turned the baggie over. “We struck gold. See?” He pointed to the red cross printed on the bag. “This is from Doc.” “So I guess we're going back tomorrow night?” Tubbs sighed. “I'll get my shots.” “Just don't fall for the freebie and you should be fine.” Sonny shook his head. “Now we just have to hope she doesn't OD before tomorrow night.” It was almost one in the morning before Sonny turned into his spot in the marina lot. He'd dropped Rico off at Casa Cooper, letting him keep the heroin just in case Elvis decided to be destructive again. The gator had an instinct for destroying evidence when he threw his tantrums, and Sonny needed that heroin and its bag intact. As he walked down the plank walkway, he noticed Vellamo tied up in her usual spot. He felt his heart skip a beat, and then settle again. No lights burned belowdecks, and he didn't see any movement on deck. Then, from down in the stern seats, he saw the pinprick glow of a Virginia Slims cigarette as someone took a deep drag. For a moment he thought about continuing on down the dock, but changed his mind. Tonight, if she'd have him, he needed company. Ropes creaked in the quiet night air as he stepped onto the gangplank. “Permission to come aboard?” he asked in a voice pitched to carry only as far as the seats. The glowing tip bobbed, and then her familiar throaty voice reached his ears. “I was hoping that was you, Sonny.” He could see her in the moonlight, a light cotton shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose from her shoulders. The blue bikini bottoms were stark against the cushion upholstery, and he could see through the shirt she wasn't wearing a top. The cigarette glowed as she took another deep drag. “I should be sleeping,” she announced to the water around them. “But I couldn't. Not until I saw you.” “Is that what I am now? So boring I put you to sleep?” “Never.” She waved her hand, inviting him to sit beside her. There was something about her movements, her voice, that gave him pause. He'd seen Jenny in many moods over the weeks they'd been together, but this was something new. “Tire me out so I can sleep? Yes. A very happy yes. Boring? No.” She pulled again on the cigarette and looked up at the stars, her long blonde hair settling around her tanned shoulders as she moved. “When did you get back?” He found himself groping for words and cursed inside. “Around dusk. It made me sad when you weren't home. I wanted to cook you dinner and then have you for dessert.” She smiled, her teeth flashing in the moonlight. “There's always midnight snacks.” He leaned over and kissed her, tasting the cigarette on her tongue. “Very true.” She threw her arms around him, and Sonny was surprised by the desperate strength in her embrace. “Let's do it here,” she whispered in his ear, licking his neck. “All the old people are asleep. And I'll be quiet until we go below. I promise.” “Just can't wait, can you?” She wriggled out of the bikini bottoms. “No. I can't. Please, Sonny.” Later, once they were curled up in the forward berth of the Vellamo, she smiled and ran a slender finger along his stubbled jaw. “Thank you. I...I needed that tonight.” “I'd say so.” Sonny smiled, wondering how he was going to explain the scratches on his back and shoulders if Rico saw him without a shirt. But it still nagged at him. Something about her had been different tonight. Very different. Almost like she was afraid of something. But he knew better than to ask. Jenny was an expert at deflecting questions, either with other questions or sex. Physically she'd worn him out, and he didn't want to deal with some of her more probing questions, either. In another life he figured she'd make a hell of an interrogator. She had a way of circling you with obscure, almost abstract questions and then pouncing once she'd worn you down. Reaching over, she found her cigarettes. A match flared, and the glowing tip circled like a firefly as she took the first puff and started tracing lines in the still air with the smoke. “You ever do that? It always looked like fireflies going down in flames to me.” She smiled. “Kind of a depressing image, but it's what I think of when I see it.” He looked over at her naked body, sweat glittering on her smooth skin where moonlight peeking through the ports caught it. “You always think like that?” “No.” Her laugh was sad. “Only sometimes.” She crushed out her cigarette and kissed him again. “Now hold me and let's try to get some sleep.” Sonny felt her settle against his body, and slipped his arm around her well-muscled shoulders. It was easy until you were in bed with her to forget just how strong Jenny was. She sighed, and in minutes her breathing took on the even rhythm of sleep. But he took longer to settle. Her mood had started those little gears turning in his head. What was her game? Was it a game? Was she just a small-time smuggler or was there something more going on? And where was his heart in the whole mess? It wasn't easy to answer any of those questions, and Sonny wanted easy when it came to Jenny. Especially the question about his heart. The rules they'd established early on seemed to be changing, and he wanted to know why. But the only way to find out was to risk destroying the little thing they had going, and he wasn't sure he was ready to take that chance. Ricardo Tubbs looked at the numbers on the slip of paper and reminded himself he didn't need to call either one. Not Nita, and certainly not Debbie. He looked around, feeling the emptiness of Casa Cooper closing in on him. It wasn't the first time, and he figured it wouldn't be the last. Shrugging, he walked into the kitchen nook, still adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of the revolver on his left ankle. The Walther rested in a temporary nylon holster; a quick phone call earlier that day left Tubbs assured Crockett's holster guy would have a proper rig sent out in the next couple of days. He'd considered sticking with just the Chief's Special in its normal place until the holster arrived, but remembered the rain of bullets they'd faced in the Keys and discarded the idea. No, this was a new scene and he needed to be ready. The smooth whiskey shimmered golden in his glass, and Rico looked down at it with some surprise. He didn't remember pouring one. Shaking his head, he walked to the patio door. “Never a good sign when you don't remember pouring the first drink,” he muttered as he stepped out into the muggy night. The halo around the moon hinted at rain the next day, and he smiled at the thought. Miami could use a good cleaning, and that was one place to start. Tonight the city didn't hold its usual appeal, so he just stood near the edge and sipped his scotch. Something about this new operation didn't sit right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Reaching into his pants pocket he pulled out the little baggie and stared at the red cross perfectly centered on the plastic. “Who the hell are you, Doc?” he whispered into the uncaring night. “Why the hell use a red cross? And what will you do if the Columbians get too close?” Rico never liked not knowing. Ever since he was a kid that had bothered him. Maybe it came from the streets, where not knowing who was around the next corner or what gang controlled the next block could get you hurt or worse. But it stuck with him, and had saved his life on more than one occasion. And it had finally helped him end it with Valerie. Valerie! Even now the name made him cringe. But it finally became too much. Not knowing when she'd appear or disappear from his life. What she'd want when she showed up. Or how she refused to commit, stringing him along like a junkie needing his next fix. Or maybe it came when he looked at Alicia on St. Gerard after the Calderone shootout and realized how much she reminded him of Valerie. At least physically. The warming effect of the scotch was fading, leaving him feeling empty like it always did when the initial rush dropped down to the pit of his stomach. Still, he didn't go inside, looking out instead in the direction of the contested neighborhoods. He knew what the Columbians would do to take control, and he had a damned good idea what the Dominicans would do to keep control of their turf. Still, he kept coming back to the one big question no one could answer: what the hell would Doc do when he felt threatened? Finishing the last of his drink, Rico put the baggie back in his pocket and turned to go inside. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. Dave looked up from his study of the maps and accompanying notes. “Damned good stuff, ladies. My hat's off to you.” Randy seconded the praise. “We'll set up on the edge of the Double Treys' zone first. It's had the most contact so far and we'll have an easier time sorting out the players.” He looked at the map. “We'll do a run by first and see it from the ground.” Stan spoke up, looking across the table at a bandaged but willing Lester. “We can do that for you. No one's gonna look twice at the Roach Coach in that neighborhood, and I want to try out those sweet cameras they got hidden in the roach's eyes.” “And I want to see our new toy.” Lester grinned, wincing as he shifted his arm. “It's about all I'm good for except watching tape reels turn right now.” Sonny chuckled. It had been an early morning, and he'd left Jenny with a kiss on the forehead. She'd been so tired she didn't even wake up. His head still wasn't totally in the game, but he knew it had to be. He was the boss. “Sounds good to me. Can you take them in the back so they can get eyes on, too?” Stan nodded. “Sure. I didn't even eat beans last night so you've got a good chance of coming back unharmed.” “Don't be too sure of that.” Randy nodded to Dave. “He had some kinda black bean thing last night. We might need hazard pay for this one.” He looked at the empty chair near the head of the table. “Is Trudy ok, boss?” “Got some good news there.” Sonny looked at the assembled team. “Marty's going home today. I gave her the day so she could get him settled in and have some time with him away from the damned hospital stink.” Mindy smiled. “That's great news!” Rico seconded the smile. “Yeah. I guess they got that infection under control?” “No idea. I don't even like hearing about hospitals.” Sonny smiled, glad he'd been able to lift their spirits with some good news. “But I got a call from the chief deputy this morning. His higher is wanting updates, so we need to move on this. Rico and I are meeting with that Trixie again tonight, and if you get a chance, Stan, can you touch based with Gina and see if she's got another other girls in the combat zone? We might need to talk to them at some point.” “I'm meeting her for lunch, so yeah I can do that.” Stan started to smile, then his expression changed. “She's not gonna want to put any of them in danger, though.” “We won't talk to them unless it's absolutely necessary. But if she hears girls from those zones say anything it could help us quite a bit.” “Ok, Sonny. I'll ask. You know Gina, though.” “Yeah, I do, buddy. We won't push her.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “You get that baggie to the lab?” “Yeah. They confirmed China White, and damned pure besides. It's the same stuff that was being sold by Tio and Reno.” Sonny nodded. “Anyone got anything else? No? Then let's get to work, people. Mindy, if you need to get that ankle checked out again take a long lunch. I'll cover the front.” He looked down at his notebook and saw one scratched note. “Rico, you got a second? The rest of you, hit the streets.” Once they were in the office, Rico shook his head. “It's not good news, is it, Sonny?” “It's news partner. Don't know if it's good or not.” Sonny looked down at the blurry fax. “Seems DEA had another surveillance photo taken about a week after that first one. The Calderone clan was leaving that compound in a hurry, and they had a baby with them. They're running down the file now. Apparently the Columbian police raided the place something like an hour later and scooped up some confused servants. They're looking for interrogation reports, too.” “So there's a chance...” “As of a few years ago, yes.” Sonny raised his hand. “I don't know if you can get your hopes up or not, but I told you I'd let you know as it came in. Good or bad.” He smiled. “I'd call this neutral.” Rico nodded. “Thanks, Sonny. I'm gonna go see if Mindy needs any help before she heads out.” Alone in the office, Sonny sank back in the chair and turned to look out the window. His first hour had been spent fielding calls from one agency or another, all wanting something he either couldn't or wouldn't provide. Only the chief deputy had been helpful. “Tell 'em to stuff it,” he thundered down the line. “And send 'em to me if they don't like it. I'll give you cover until Castillo gets back. No knock on your ability, son, but you ain't got the rank to fight these bastards. I do.” Even now, hours removed from the conversation, he had to chuckle when he thought of the chief deputy's voice. It was hard to believe, but he'd yet to actually meet the man. It was going to be hard to reconcile the voice with what he'd heard the man actually looked like. But he decided he was looking forward to it. If things ever slowed down enough to allow office calls. Right now the chances of that seemed slight. The fax machine gave off one of its truncated rings and hummed to life. Sonny flinched. He'd come to hate that sound, since it usually meant more paperwork or some bit of administrative minutiae he'd managed to miss. He really wanted to hand the whole mess off to Mindy, but knew that wasn't right. “Just because it sucks doesn't mean I can duck it,” he muttered, lighting the first cigarette of the day and walking over to the machine. He'd been thinking about cutting back again, but found it hard when confronted with a wall of paper mixed with responsibility. “Shit.” A single word. Then he looked out the door. “Is Stan still here?” Rico looked up from the table where he was huddled with Mindy going through the last of the files the chief deputy had sent over. “No. He and the rest of the boys headed out as soon as we turned our backs.” “I can get him on the van phone.” Mindy's eyes were bright. “Is it important?” Sonny looked down at the fax with the ATF shield prominent at the top. “You know what? No. It's not. They can get their own taps on Holmes and his crew. I'm not giving those cowboys ours. They want the glory, they can do the work for a change.” Rico nodded. “Solid. Besides, we might need those things ourselves.” “Yeah. If the Columbians need more guns I'll bet they reach out. The Mendoza brothers did some trade with him, and we know Moncado did. They're gonna at least know who he is.” “But will he sell to them?” Mindy looked puzzled. “I hear he's an old-school redneck.” “Yeah, but their money's green same as everyone else's.” Sonny chuckled. “He's what we call a practical racist down here. He won't sell 'em the heavy artillery, but he's not opposed to a few MAC-10s among friends.” “So long as they just kill each other.” Rico nodded. “At least that's the word on the street. We never got close to him, but the Mendozas always complained that he had AKs and wouldn't sell them. They wanted those assault rifles in the worst way.” Sonny nodded, deciding as he turned. “I'm gonna tell them the taps got blown with the rest of our Pedrosa-related stuff. Then we can have our private stash.” “Is there a chance they'll find ours if they put their own in?” “I doubt it, Rico. Stan's damned good at what he does, and those went in later in the game. When he and Lester were really hitting their stride.” Sonny shook his head. “No, I think we gotta worry more about the ATF screwing up our game than us messing with theirs.” Back at his desk, he scribbled a note on the bottom of the fax and sent it through the machine. “They can chew on that,” he muttered, sitting back down to sign off on a small stack of requisitions, mostly ammunition and some surveillance gear for Dave and Randy. Sonny was done by mid-afternoon, and rose to find himself alone in the office. Tubbs had vanished to parts unknown, but he could account for everyone else. He looked at his watch and smiled. Trudy should be picking up Marty right about now if the doctors hadn't changed their minds.

After the heat of the street the task force office was an oasis of cool. Sonny and Rico headed for Castillo's office, Rico taking a detour to look in on Stan in the tech room. He came back smiling. “Stan's damned near glowing,” he reported as he sat down across from Sonny. “He's busy putting a plan together so we can start applying for warrants.” “Good. How are Trudy and Mindy doing?” “I stuck my head in and saw a stack of folders and decided it was better if I didn't bother them. But I'd guess they're doing good. Stan said they've only been out for donuts and coffee, so they're working hard.” Sonny nodded. “Seems odd, don't it? A gang war over drug turf neither one of them can actually identify. And little Nicky Fuentes running around with a big ol' target on his back. Bet he wishes he would have stayed a runner for Garcia or whoever now.” “Most likely. That little chump never had the stones for that work, let alone the big time.” “Maybe that's it. You think we could bring him in and turn him?” Tubbs shook his head. “Not yet. I doubt if he's scared enough. So far no one's taken a run at him. Just the Dominicans and Columbians shooting each other and their dealers.” “Maybe it's time someone did take a run at him. Like say Burnett.” Sonny leaned back, scratching the stubble on his chin. “He's already scared of Burnett, and I don't want to risk blowing a potential walk-on for Cooper from the islands later in the game.” “You think Burnett's still viable after the Keys?” “Yeah, I do. Maynard wasn't one to air dirty laundry, so no one's gonna know what he was planning. Anyone who did is dead. No,” he repeated, fishing his cigarettes out of the pocket of his white linen blazer, “I think Burnett's still viable. And he'd be looking for another score after that slick bastard Cooper zipped on back to New York City.” “It could work.” Rico nodded slowly, rubbing his eyes. “And Burnett sniffing around would make Nicky nervous as hell.” “We'll need to prep the ground first. Find out where he's doing his deals. And I want a better grip on those gangs.” Sonny sighed. “This damned boss thing is hard work, Rico.” “No doubt, partner.” Rico grinned. “Maybe you'll get lucky and Jenny will be back in town.” “Don't know if that's luck or not.” Sonny raised his hands. “I know...just roll with it. But I'm starting to wonder just where the hell it's rolling.” It bothered him more than he cared to admit. There was something about Jenny that drew him in, but he also knew that wasn't always a good thing. He'd been wrong more than he'd been right with those kind of attractions in the past, and he wasn't sure where this one was going. “I'd feel a hell of a lot better if I knew what she was up to.” “I made some calls, and I'm waitin' on folks to get back to me.” Rico picked at a loose thread on his suit. “At least you know she's not moving drugs or anything like that.” “Yeah, there is that. I just can't tell which one of us is the moth and which one's the candle.” “Maybe she can't, either. You aren't exactly an open book, you know.” “You got that right, Rico. That's the danger with dating outside the Job. You never know if they're falling for you or your cover.” Sonny shook his head. Hell, sometimes I don't know if I'm myself or my cover. Burnett is hard to turn off sometimes. “Yeah. That's the trouble with Debbie. I like her, but she's more Cooper's kind of girl if you know what I mean.” “I do. Sucks, don't it?” Sonny sent smoke trailing toward the window, looking just past the glowing tip of the cigarette. Maybe Jenny's more Burnett's kind of girl. Then what the hell do I do? “At least I figured that out before it was too late. I don't want to hurt her, Sonny, and if that means I gotta be alone, then that's what it takes.” “Yeah.” He took another drag on the cigarette, feeling the nicotine rush and focusing his thoughts. “I'm gonna do a little more work on these requisitions and then call it a day. You want me to put in for one of those Walthers for you, or do you just want to go buy one and get paid back?” “Ill go down tonight and see if there's one in town. Better it comes in that way.” “True enough, partner. Let me know when you find one and we'll hit the range. You'll need to get it shot in and I can always stand the practice.” And the therapy. “Don't forget to give Gina a call.” “Damn!” Reaching for a pen, Sonny scribbled himself a note. “Thanks for reminding me. It might be too late today, but I'll try and hit her up in the morning if I miss her.” Shaking his head, he reached for the phone. Someone picked up on the third ring. “Detective Calabrese.” “Gina? It's Sonny.” Her voice was guarded. “How's it going, Sonny?” “Good. Look, I need a favor. Nothing big. You know a girl who works at Rizzo's named Trixie? I hear she's got blue hair.” There was a pause. “Yes, I think so. She moonlights on the street and has an on-again, off-again heroin problem. I think she was in here a couple of weeks ago talking about pressing charges against her 'boyfriend,' but then she disappeared again.” “You got any solid intel on her? We're working one of the heroin sources and her name came up.” “Doesn't surprise me. She runs with a bad crowd. After Noogie I'm surprised Rizzo's hasn't fired her yet.” Her laugh echoed down the line. “Seems it took Noogie ODing to wake that bunch up, but when they did it was serious.” “A little bird told me she's only part-time there now, anyhow. But you think she's dealing?” “I'd be surprised if she wasn't.” Sonny could almost see Gina's sad smile when he heard her voice. “If she's down to part-time she's got to make her money somewhere.” “What kind of heroin did they bust her with?” “China White.” “That means she's involved somehow. This guy's the only one bringing that in as far as Narcotics knows.” Sonny felt his pulse increase. “Look, can you do me a favor? Let me know if any of the girls you work with mentions a dealer called Doc. Don't move on it, though. Just let me know.” “I'll keep my ears open.” There was a pause, and her voice was serious when she spoke again. “Is it important, Sonny?” “Yeah, and this Doc's bad news. Don't let them know you're interested.” Sonny paused himself, trying to put what he sensed into words. “To Narcotics he's a ghost. You remember Haskins? He was chasing the guy before Vallencio took over, and John could never get a lead on him, either. Just the street name and the fact he's ruthless as hell. So if you hear anything, please just let me know and we'll connect the dots.” He paused. “It's not that I think you can't handle it. It's just dangerous as hell and I don't want to risk anyone but myself chasing it down. And that includes Stan. We got him a new toy today, so he'll be busy for days with it.” Her laugh was genuine. “Thank you, Sonny. For looking after him, I mean. He's...” “I know, darlin'. I know. Let me know if you hear anything.” He hung up before either of them could say anything more. There wasn't any need. Ricardo Tubbs could feel the beat of the club's sound system before he got within ten feet of the door. He smiled, flashing white teeth and a twenty to the guy at the door and getting past the rope with no questions and no hassle. Just how he liked making an entrance. He'd picked the place because it wasn't one of his usual haunts; because here no one would know him as Cooper from New York. This operation might call for a different touch, and he needed to get Islands Cooper out and try him on for size again. It had been over a year since he'd used that cover, and like doors and guns covers rusted if you didn't use them or take care of them regularly. The bartender looked at him with a raised eyebrow, and Rico smiled again. “Rum, mon. Dark as night.” When the glass appeared he sipped it with appreciation. “Righteous, mon. Righteous!” He laid another twenty on the bar. “Let me know when I drink this up, mon. Ok?” “You got it, pal.” The bartender gave him a bored nod and headed down to a knot of what looked like frat guys out on the town. Leaning against the bar, Rico took in the scene. The place was thick with girls and guys looking to score, their eyes sparkling in light thrown by refugee disco balls suspended from the unfinished ceiling. The place looked to have been some kind of warehouse no more than two years ago, but now it pulsed with sound, light, and cheap chrome fixtures. At least the air conditioning was solid. The last thing Rico wanted was a nose-full of stale sweat and bathroom stink. Part of him wanted to hit the dance floor. To grind up against some lovelies and see what he could see. But he remembered Mikko and kept looking things over. That and if things headed for their natural conclusion he didn't want to take just anyone up to Casa Cooper. No, he had reasons to be discrete now. Even though the light was dim, he could see deals being made in the corner booths. Men who slipped in, didn't stay long, and left with their hands in their pockets while the skinny guy already there stayed put and waited for the next customer. It wasn't very subtle, so he figured the amounts were correspondingly small. The more weight changing hands the more careful people tended to be about who saw them closing the deal. That and he didn't see enough big guys in unseasonable jackets. Big deals demanded security, and that called for firepower. None of these chumps had the right kind of weight close at hand. Still, it was good to stay in practice. He motioned for a fresh drink and waited until the bartender got close. “Any action to be had here, mon?” he asked in a low voice. “Any special party favors?” That eyebrow shot up again. “There's usually some flake around. Bolivian now that the Peruvian's gotten rare.” He snickered. “Weed, but I expect you get better than any of these fools sell.” “You got that right, mon. Righteous weed is my bread and butter.” “Yeah. That's about all she wrote, though. This crowd's more about being jacked up and maybe mellowing a bit.” “Solid.” Rico dropped another twenty on the bar. “For your trouble, mon.” “Thanks.” Now it was the bartender who leaned in. “You wouldn't happen to be looking to lose any weight, would you?” “Not tonight, mon. But maybe in a few days my friends an' I might have some extra.” Rico wasn't looking for any kind of bust, but he never ignored an opportunity. The chump might lead to bigger things. “I'll be looking you up, first thing.” “Cool. I'm Turk.” “Prentiss is my name, mon. An' I'll be back in a couple days. Hook you up maybe with some prime ganja.” Rico grinned. “But now business calls. Cool runnin', mon.” Damn. That was rusty as hell. Maybe the Island act ain't ready for prime time just yet. Good thing I ain't ever been in this dive before. And might never come back. Rico took his drink and wandered the edges of the dance floor. Now and then a girl caught his eye, but he just gave them a smile or a wink and kept moving. Tonight was about knocking off the rust and getting his street instincts back where they needed to be and not about trying to score. It wasn't long before the club lost whatever charm it had, and Rico headed back out into the sticky night air. Checking his Rolex he saw it was too early to go home. Hell, more like the dead Panamanian's seized Rolex he reminded himself, his lips twitching into a thin smile at the thought. Too early to go home, but nowhere else I really want to go. Unless... It was dark in the task force offices. Everyone else had gone home for the day, and the place sat quiet and empty. Letting himself in, Rico ignored the conference room and headed for the small office he'd shared with Sonny until his partner's temporary promotion. Unlocking his desk, he reached into one of the big hanging files and pulled out a small manila envelope. Breaking the seal, he dumped the contents into the small golden pool formed by his desk lamp. The first picture was of Angelina. Angelina Calderone. The woman he'd thought was a simple schoolteacher until he learned the truth. The woman he'd fallen instantly in love with, even after he found out the identity of her father. And the woman he'd unknowingly gotten pregnant with his son. “I never really knew you,” he whispered to the picture, setting it in the exact center of the desk. “But I did know you. What would our lives have been like if we could have gotten away from it all?” Next came a fuzzy surveillance photo, taken from a distance by some unknown team of watchers. It was the only picture he had of Ricardo Junior. She'd named the boy after him, maybe so someday he'd know who his father was. It was another thing they never got to talk about, thanks to her crazy half brother Orlando. “At least I got to kill that bastard,” he muttered. “That and his idiot cousin Xavier.” It had put an end to the Calderone family, at least the part concerned with drugs. He knew Angelina was dead, blown up by Orlando. But the boy...he never knew for sure. There had been no trace in the remains of the car, but Orlando had used enough explosives to blow up a building. They'd been lucky there was enough of Angelina to identify and bury. But that was also one of the reasons he hadn't batted an eye when Sonny went after Hackman. He understood completely. And in his shoes he'd have done the same thing. For a long moment Rico stared at the pictures. And the dolphin necklace. He could feel the tears forming, and didn't try to stop them until they splattered on the envelope like falling rain. Then he slid each artifact back into the envelope, sealed it with tape, and locked it back in the desk. Maybe now he'd get some answers. Metro-Dade might not know, but there had to be one of the alphabet soup agencies they worked with now that had something. Castillo had asked, and his questions didn't tend to go unanswered. Sighing, Rico turned off the desk lamp and got to his feet. He'd almost forgotten about the gun case sitting by his feet. If he was going to take the Walther to the range he'd need to clean it and get used to how it operated first. Picking it up, he headed for the armory, punching the six digit key into the lock pad and waiting for the heavy click. Better to do the cleaning here and pay for dry cleaning than have Casa Cooper reeking of gun oil for days. Snapping open the case, Rico went about the business of field-stripping the sleek West German pistol and wiping it clean of any factory grease before applying a thin coat of Hoppe's to the metal surfaces. It was all new to him, so he took his time. Revolvers didn't need this level of care. But he understood the point. The Walther had a fifteen-round magazine, and with two spares he'd be carrying forty-five rounds. At most he'd had fifteen with his Smith & Wesson. And reloading it was a process compared to just hitting a button, having the empty magazine fall away, slamming in a new one, and hitting the slide release. He'd seen Mindy in action with her auto-loader, and remembered how much covering fire Sonny had been able to lay down at the Keys house. “No,” he muttered, locking the barrel back into place, “I get it. Time for a change. 'Course the Smith still makes a nice backup gun. She won't be put down just yet.” The game had changed, and he needed to change with it. “And you're sure you ain't heard nothin'?” Earl Lester Holmes took a swig of his Bud before setting the bottle down and glaring at Benny. The sun was finally down, and the ground around the bar was starting to cool. Maybe outdoors would be fit for human habitation before too long. “Sure, boss. An' we did some diggin', you bet. Me an' Verne both. That colonel's dead sure as shit. Someone shot his face clean off the way I heard it. But there ain't nothin' out there about who did it.” Benny looked at his own beer, and Holmes could see the thirst in his eyes. But he also knew Benny wouldn't dare reach for it yet. “My buddy over in Metro-Dade just said it was some Federal outfit that did it. He don't know who. State police came in quicker 'n spit an' locked down the whole scene before the fancy boys in helicopters showed up.” “Drink your damned beer before you pass out, Benny.” Holmes grinned, finishing his own and pulling another from the cooler behind the bar. They were down at the far end, away from the TVs and the knot of men in stained shirts watching whatever damned ball game was on. The more he watched, the more Holmes was convinced baseball was some kind of Commie plot to sap the willpower of the American male. “And you said they got Moncado, too, these Federal command types?” “That's what my pal said.” Benny gulped at his beer, wiping sweat from his wide brow. “They gunned down the colonel, his Columbian buddy, an' a whole bunch of his hired guns besides.” Holmes stared into space for a moment, fighting to control his temper. “An' no one knows who these boys are?” “Nosir. We're still checkin', mind, but we're also bein' careful like you said.” “Well shit.” Holmes took a deep drink of beer. He'd expected something to turn up by now. Benny might not be smart, but he was as persistent as a tic once you gave him something to latch onto. But he could only climb so high, and if the locals didn't know that pretty much used up Benny's contacts. “Best let it go for now, Benny. You and Verne did good, hear? But we don't want no Federal eyes lookin' at us. Those fools from ATF are bad enough with their cheap suits an' unmarked sedans. Guess I should be glad they're still usin' Fords instead of some cheap import shit, though.” He forced his thoughts away from the bloodbath in the Keys. “Best start tryin' to make some inroads with those spics shootin' each other in Miami.” “Why's that, boss?” “Like I said before, they're gonna need guns sooner or later. Might as well make some money off 'em before they wipe each other out.” Although he didn't say it in front of Benny, Holmes also hoped the feud would eventually draw out this mysterious Federal force. He couldn't hit what he couldn't see, but Earl Lester Holmes was totally confident in his ability to hit, and kill, what he could see. From up the bar one of his men whistled. “Boss! We got company.” Pushing himself off his stool, Holmes ambled up the bar. He could feel the comforting weight of his cocked and locked M1911-A1 tucked into the back of his Levi's. “What the hell is it, Mikey?” “Them bikers again, boss. They're wantin' to buy some product.” Holmes looked over, seeing the big man in the sleeveless denim jacket blocking the light in the doorway. “I told you we're closed, you dumb son of a bitch! It's still too hot out there to do business.” The big man, nicknamed Tiny in reference to something Holmes didn't want to think about, let out a bark that might pass for a laugh. “Ain't no one closed when we want to do business, fat man.” “Guess again.” Holmes raised a finger and Tiny stopped moving, suddenly aware of the number of pistols and sawed-off shotguns pointed at his head and chest by the men watching the game and the regulars at the bar. Snickering, he pulled out his own .45. “I ain't gonna insult your lack of intelligence by tellin' you how many guns are on you right now. We'll keep it simple and say a shitload.” The click as he flipped off the safety on his pistol was echoed by a number of clicks as the others did the same. “Now you can just back outa here right now and chalk this up to you learnin' something, or you can go down right now. You and those inbreds you got outside. And the gators get fed. Choice is yours, but don't take too long or I'll consider that a no.” Tiny's eyes went wide, and he made a show of raising his hands. “Ok, Lester. Ok. I get it. Too hot. Right. We'll come back another time.” “No. I'll tell you when to come back.” “Right. We'll wait to hear from you.” A dark stain was spreading across the front of Tiny's stained jeans, and he turned and stiff-legged it out of the bar as fast as he could without breaking into a run. Holmes waited until the ragged thunder of Harleys starting up filled his ears. Then he put his Colt on safe and stuffed in back in his pants. Shooting a glace at Mikey he said, “Make sure them sons of bitches is gone, then the house gets a round. Hear?” In a way he was disappointed Tiny hadn't pushed it. The bikers were more of a nuisance than good customers. They bought his guns, did stupid shit with them, and then wanted to give him up to the cops when they got pulled in for their stupid shit. Getting rid of them would have made his life easier. “Maybe next time,” he muttered as he settled back onto his stool and reached for his beer. Stan Switek leaned across the car and kissed Gina goodbye. “It's no trouble,” he repeated, smiling just to see her smile back. “Your car's in the shop, mine runs, and with this face and no Lester I'm on normal duty for the time being. So I can drop you off and pick you up.” “Thanks, Stan.” Gina reached over and ran her fingers over his cheek. “It'll take some time to get used to that beard, and I'll bet as soon as I do you'll be able to shave again.” “Maybe. Or maybe I'll decide I like the rugged, he-man look.” Stan grinned. “See you tonight, baby.” He spent the rest of the drive to Task Force headquarters with a smile on his face. Aside from almost getting blown up, he'd never felt better. His only regret was Larry not being there to see it. But Lester was turning into a damned good buddy, as well as a great technician. And then there was Gina. He sighed, turning into the garage. He couldn't imagine living without her now. The hospital stay had given him time to think after weeks of having no time to think about anything other than phone taps and receiver ranges. Gina had been by every day, and she'd told him of the promise she'd extracted from Sonny Crockett and how he'd told her he'd made good on it. But he didn't care about that as much as he did seeing her every day. The sound of her voice as she told him about her day, knowing he didn't really understand most of it but cared because she did. Every time he opened his eyes she'd been there, or he knew she was coming soon. As the doors opened on the tenth floor, Stan realized he understood now why Sonny had killed Hackman. What had seemed so out of character for the man now made total sense. Sometimes you had to have everything to realize what losing it could do to someone. Then he shuddered, considering what would be unleashed if anyone ever hurt Trudy. Then his hand touched the office door and it was showtime. Stan always tried to make an entrance of some kind. It was a habit he'd learned to deflect bullies; being the funny fat kid was often safer than being a target. Today it was...”Have no fear! Stan is here!” Mindy looked up from her desk and giggled. “So far it's just you and me, big guy, so the only thing we have to fear...” “Is fear itself. See? I didn't sleep through American History. Ok, maybe once. But once they hit the '50s and the King I never looked back.” Stan grinned, making a mock bow in her direction. “Of course I never moved forward either. Means I missed disco completely. Any idea when they'll be in?” “Should be soon. Sonny's been coming in earlier since he got dropped in the boss's chair, and Rico does it just to show he can.” She smiled. “Dave and Randy...well...they do their own thing most of the time. Sonny did want me to ask, though...do you know when Lester's coming back?” “Could be today. Tomorrow for sure. I talked to him last night and one of the doctors was still worried about his arm. If he's in today it will be this afternoon.” Stan sighed. “You know, it's good to be back. I like being fussed over by a beautiful woman as much as the next guy, but sooner or later ya gotta get back in the saddle.” She nodded. “I'd like to meet Gina someday. She sounds special. You guys talk about her so much.” “Yeah. All of us worked together for years. It's kinda like one big family.” Then his thoughts turned to Larry and he changed the subject. “Did you and Trudy get anywhere with that intel? If you've got something I'll start planning the surveillance.” “Some,” she said, and Stan was glad she'd sensed his reluctance to talk more about the old OCB team. “We've got it narrowed down to about six gangs, split evenly between the Columbians and the Dominicans. I'll give you what we've got, but I don't know how much use it'll be to you right now. It's more for Dave and Randy and their recon.” “Well, I won't be staying at Heartbreak Hotel in any case.” He smiled. “Just show me to the papers and I'll get to it. No, you don't need to get up. Having a bum ankle sucks.” “There's a stack on Trudy's desk. The top file's what you need.” Mindy smiled. “They say I should be off these in a couple of days and using a splint instead. Damned high heels.” “I know. I always break mine, though.” Stan laughed and headed through to the main office area. Sonny Crockett shut off the Ferrari and sat for a moment in the artificial cool of the garage, listening to the powerful engine tick as it cooled. Jenny's spot at the marina had been empty, and he'd had a long night with his memories. “I need to find a lady who doesn't disappear to sea for days at a time,” he told the empty car. Then he chuckled and got out. This letting it roll business takes something out of a man. Mindy greeted him with a smile. “Stan's already here, boss. Going through the files and trying to work up a surveillance profile. He said Lester should be later today or tomorrow for sure. No sign of anyone else yet.” “Thanks, darlin'. Did Trudy say if she'd be in or not?” “It depended. If the doctors let him go today, she'll be out. If not, she said she'll be in before noon.” Mindy let her eyes show her disapproval. “I told her not to worry and she told me...” “Yeah. I've got a pretty good idea what Trudy said.” Sonny smiled. “She's a tough one. No two ways about it. And she can't stand the idea of other people doing her work for her. Don't worry. I'll send her home early if she shows. It's not all hands on deck yet, so she needs to take her time. Marty needs her right now.” “No word from Detective Tubbs yet. Should I call?” “Naw. Rico'll show when he shows. He's got nothing pressing right now, but if he doesn't roll in by ten try his car and apartment phones. Just to keep him on his toes.” “What's this about my toes?” Rico came through the outer door, doing a series of quick dance moves as soon as he heard their voices. “I got dance in my soul and rhythm in my feet.” “And water on the damned brain.” Sonny laughed. “I just told Mindy you'd show when you showed, and here you are. Now if you're done auditioning for Soul Train we've got work to do.” “Ain't my fault I was born to dance.” Rico winked at Mindy and followed Sonny into the conference room. Then he stopped his little dance. “Long night?” “Is it that obvious?” Sonny shook his head. “Not long so much as...not restful. Anyhow, we got Stan hard at work in the tech room, leaving you and me to start looking through the gang stuff Trudy and Mindy sorted down. I figure we gotta do something to earn our keep around here.” “I look pretty. Ain't that enough?” “Only if you're Boogaloo Jones.” Stan leaned out the tech room door and gave them one of his wide grins. “Otherwise I gotta pass, Rico.” “Let's get to it. I'd like to be somewhere other than nowhere when Dave and Randy come in.” And I sure don't want to be spinning my wheels when Marty finally gets back. We need to have something solid to give him. “So grab some coffee. We got a morning ahead of us.” Two hours later Sonny looked at the folders spread out on the big table and compared them to the notes Mindy and Trudy had typed up. They'd done a hell of a job breaking it all down, and the street map of Miami they'd used to block off territories and color-code them to files and notes was some of the best intel work he'd ever seen. Tubbs was equally impressed. “Damn. You're the boss, give them a raise.” “Wish I could, Rico. This is first class work.” He looked down again, matching the words with the lines on the map. “I'm gonna run through this because I'm slow. Looks like we got six gangs fighting over the same few blocks of drug market. Two Columbian, and four Dominican.” “Yeah. The Dominicans are smaller outfits. Mostly centered around a family. The Columbians might not have raw numbers, but they're better organized and have more firepower.” “And they'd done this before.” Sonny pointed at the names. “These guys were small-time back when the Mendoza brothers were making things happen. Guess they got shut down after we left, and things fell apart.” “Drug dealers are like roaches. They see an empty space and they move in.” Rico pointed to the map. “Most of that turf used to be solid Mendoza territory. Now you got three gangs squabbling over it.” “The Dominicans go way back in this, but they're strictly family and territorial. They just want to hold what they have, and until now no one seemed to care what they had.” Sonny scratched his chin. “I wonder what tripped the balance?” “China White. Pure and simple. You know these Columbians. They want to have it all, not just the blow trade. They even took a run at the Jamaicans for the weed concession. They got slapped down for that, but they keep comin' back.” “They learned that from the Mendozas. Those two were determined little bastards.” The words triggered a memory, and Sonny got up from the table. “Let me go check the damned fax machine. I keep forgetting it's there.” Once in the office he looked down at the empty print tray and shook his head. He'd sent out a reminder to some agencies last night, requesting information on Ricardo Calderone or Tubbs junior. Or anything on a baby being moved by the remnants of the Calderone clan. Nothing had come in yet, but he owed it to Tubbs to keep checking. He found Tubbs looking through the Dominican gang folders. “So we got two old-timers here,” he announced, looking up when Sonny came back. “Edmundo Salazar and Gustavo Gutierrez. Eddie and Double G to the men on the street. They've been in the game since the '70s. Eddie heads up the 8-Ball Kings, and good old Double G fronts the Double Treys.” He shrugged. “Don't know what cereal box they got those names from, though. The other two gangs are strictly small time, feeders for the 8-Balls and the Treys. They sorted out their turf back when disco was king, so they don't scrap any more.” He chuckled. “In fact, Eddie and Double G might be cousins on their mothers' sides. So we got la Familia rolling over there.” Sonny nodded, paging through the intel on the Columbians. “Lots of familiar faces in here. Looks like the Blancos rolled up most of the Mendoza dealers and some of their enforcers. What was left trickled into a bunch calling themselves Los Tech 9s.” He chuckled. “Takes real imagination to name your gang after your favorite gat. Anyhow, they're both nasty as they come. Probably no more than ten or fifteen active members each, but they're veterans of the Mendoza turf wars. The guys in charge of each gang used to be underbosses for the Mendozas, so they know each other. It'll be a bloodbath if they get past the Dominicans and decide to see who's got the bigger dick in the drug contest.” “Ok. We got the players. What's the game they're fighting over?” Sonny shook his head. “That's the bitch of it, Rico. We don't know. Gangs hadn't developed anything new, and we know Narcotics has squat.” He looked up and smiled as Mindy brought in the mail. “That thick folder goes to you and Trudy first. It's got everything Narcotics has on this heroin connection. See if you can find any connection to the stuff Gangs sent over.” She nodded. “Trudy just came in, so if you lugs will get out of our way we'll get down to the real work.” Sonny looked past her to Trudy. Her face showed her exhaustion and worry, but the determination in her eyes made him smile. “We'll leave you to it. Say hello to Marty for me when you see him today, Trudy.” She smiled. “I will, Sonny. He might be coming home tomorrow. I've got my fingers crossed.” “I'll cross mine for you both.” Sonny gave her hand a quick squeeze and then turned to Tubbs. “You have any luck tracking down a new hogleg?” “Matter of fact I did. The receipt's in your basket, Mindy.” Tubbs grinned. “I was hoping to hit the range later.” “Why put off until later what we can do now? Grab some ammo and we'll head out that way.” Sonny smiled to cover his own uneasy feelings. “I could use some range therapy myself.”

Ricardo Tubbs slipped out of his suit coat and hung it on a hanger in the closet by the door to Casa Cooper. Reaching up, he undid his tie and draped it precisely over the back of a chair. Only then did he sigh and allow himself to relax. Sonny in charge! He was still trying to wrap his head around it. Not that he thought Crockett was a bad choice. His partner was all heart when it came to some things, and Rico knew he wouldn't take any dumb chances. Not now, at least. Two years ago he wouldn't have been so sure. He looked down at his side, seeing the familiar black rubber grips of his Smith & Wesson. After the fight in the Keys he'd decided he needed something more. If they were stepping up, six shots might not be enough, and .38 just might not cut it, either. But it was tough. He'd used the same pistol since he left uniform patrol in the Bronx. Still, he figured if Sonny could man up and apologize to Switek he could switch pistols. It was just a matter of sitting down with Dave and Randy and picking their brains. Pouring himself a drink, Rico kicked off his shoes and walked over to the big plate glass windows. The air coming through the central ducts felt good, and he knew if he stepped outside he'd be bathed in sweat inside of two seconds. But at least from here he could see night claiming the city. And think about his next move. He wasn't sure if he'd ever call Debbie again. She was a sweet girl, no question. Nice, smart, and pretty as hell. Just the kind of girl New York Cooper would want on his arm. But Rico wasn't sure that was what he wanted. The scotch bit his tongue as he took a sip. Hell, most days he wasn't sure what he wanted. Seeing Marty shot had been a wake-up call for him. If the Job could reach out and touch Castillo, it would be a small thing for it to do the same to Ricardo Tubbs. He wasn't going to quit. Hell, he'd already sailed that ship out, turned it around and come right back. But Rico knew he needed to find what was right for him. So far the Task Force suited him down to the ground. They could move fast and loose, with general targets and nothing more than a 'go get 'em' for orders. It was what happened after, when they left the office and scattered to the wind, that gave Rico pause. He didn't know what the marshals did. Dave and Randy seemed to exist in their own little world, fueled by Hoppe's Number 9 and smokeless powder. Mindy, now she was a puzzle. Rico smiled as he thought of the red-headed marshal and her bright eyes. But not his puzzle. At least not yet. His old OCB team was settling down. Stan had Gina, Marty and Trudy were the law enforcement power couple you didn't want to cross, and Sonny had his 'thing' with Jenny. How the hell Sonny kept managing to find the crazy was something Rico had wondered about ever since Margaret in New York City, but the bigger mystery was how he'd managed to avoid getting seriously burned by it. Only Rico still sailed alone. But Castillo had promised to look into the mystery of Ricardo Calderone, Jr., for him. Rico looked out, not seeing the neon flickering on in a steady wave as shadows claimed the streets below. He knew Marty would keep his word, and that he'd know one way or the other. “One way or the other,” he whispered, finishing his drink and turning to pour another. Knowing would either give him something to aim for or let him close the door on that part of his life, depending on the answer. Reaching into his pocket, Rico felt the slip of paper Sonny had handed him before the Keys fight. Maybe he would call Debbie after all. It just wasn't turning into a night he wanted to spend alone. But something stopped him as soon as his fingers touched the phone. Debbie was a nice girl. Robbie had gotten that right. Their one date had been fun, dinner and drinks followed by some dancing and a nice make-out session in the Caddy before he dropped her at her high-rise. But he could tell she was looking for more than a quick fling. Something in her eyes, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. And that wasn't something Rico was ready for. Not yet. And he sure as hell didn't want to start something by calling the other girl. Stepping back, he looked down at his glass and smiled. “Guess it's you and me tonight, and maybe some crappy TV movie. Maybe I'll order a pizza and we can make a night of it.” Chuckling, he flopped down on the couch and tried to make the most of it. Once, in the middle of a commercial for some soda or another, he thought of Sonny and laughed. “I wonder what kind of mess he got himself into tonight,” he muttered around a big slice of cheese and onion pizza. Morning found Sonny Crockett hunkered behind Castillo's desk going through a small stack of intelligence reports some clown had sent over from Metro-Dade's Gang Unit. 'Background' the note stuck inside the big manila envelope claimed, although he had his doubts. Gangs never got the pick of the litter, so he wasn't expecting much aside from maybe a neighborhood map or two and some tattoo pictures, along with 'profiles' of gang leaders so out of date they were worse than useless. At the very least he wanted to weed it before turning the rest over to Mindy and Trudy to generate good product. Trudy smiled when she came in and saw him through the open office door. He shook his head. “Yeah, I know. I feel like I'm sitting in dad's good chair. I can't wait for him to get back so I don't have to see another stack of shit disguised as folders this thick.” “Gangs?” She shook her head, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She looked like she'd actually slept more than three hours. “Yeah. I think they just dumped their desks into that envelope and sent it all over. I'm getting rid of the crap, and then you and Mindy can have what passes for the good stuff.” “Sounds good. Is Stan here yet?” “No, but he should be in soon.” Sonny smiled. “It'll be good to have him back around the place. Him and Lester both. And they're going to flip when they see the new Bug Van.” He looked at her and lowered his voice. “How's Marty?” “They should be sending him home in a couple of days. I hope.” She shrugged. “They're worried about infection, I guess. I miss him, Sonny.” “I know, darlin'. I know.” He thought back on the hole in his life that opened as soon as Caitlin's eyes closed for the last time. “But he'll come back to you. He's a tough son of a bitch, and he loves you. He's not going anywhere.” “I know. At least my head does.” “Good.” He smiled again, wanting to do something but knowing he couldn't. “I think Mindy's already here if you want to check with her. I'll drop these by as soon as I'm done.” Trudy turned and was about to leave when the outer office door crashed open. “Have no fear! Stan is here!” Switek's voice boomed through the suite. His hands were full of donut boxes, and his tousled hair was still short from where it had been cut back to allow bandages to protect his wounds. Sonny got up, glad for the excuse to leave the files behind. “Hey, Stan! You're the only guy I know who looks better after being blown up!” Stan didn't even blink. “Funny, Sonny. That's the same thing your mother and your girlfriend said when I stopped by on my way here.” “I'm sure they did.” He smiled wide. “Seriously, though, Stan. It's good to have you back. It hasn't been the same with you and Lester gone.” “And he's coming back tomorrow or the next day.” Stan plopped the boxes down on the conference table. “Dig in. I know I will. Damned hospital food. Gina's been trying to get me back in fighting trim, but it's a struggle.” He slapped his gut with his hand and grinned. Sonny nodded. “Save one for me, girls. I've got something I need to show Stan.” He curled his index finger. “Follow me.” “This better not be about free candy and puppies, Crockett. I'm dating now, you know.” “Oh, it's better than that.” Sonny didn't say another word while they were in the elevator, and he could see Stan shifting from one foot to the other. Wanting to ask but knowing there was no point. Finally the doors hissed open. “See that van over there? It's yours.” Stan's jaw dropped. “It's...it's beautiful.” Not exactly the words Sonny would have used to describe the tan van with “We Zap 'Em” painted on the side and a metal cockroach mounted on the roof. Sonny tossed him the keys. “Take a look inside. The marshal's service went all out. You've got Duddy's office in the back, with some stuff he never thought of.” Stan disappeared through the double back doors, and Sonny heard a variety of gasps and muttered words. Then he saw the antenna on the roach move. “They've got mics in one of those,” Stan shouted from inside. “And a long-range antenna. I'll bet this baby's good out to ten miles. Maybe more.” “Knock yourself out, buddy. I'll be upstairs. Just try not to get any...uh...body fluids on the controls?” “I'll try, but it ain't gonna be easy. This setup is amazing. I can run video in here!” Back upstairs Sonny smiled at Trudy and Mindy. “I think Gina's gonna be pissed. There's a new lady in Stan's life, and it's the damned roach on top of that van!” Mindy laughed, powdered sugar clinging to her lips. “You think he'll be up today?” “Sure. He'll run out of steam eventually.” He picked up a chocolate frosted donut from one of the boxes. “Just like me and those damned files.” He was about to vanish into the office when Rico sauntered in, a smile in his eyes. “What the hell is going on down in the garage? It sounded like someone was filming a cut-rate porno.” “That was just Stan with the new Bug Van.” Sonny waved toward the table. “He brought donuts, too.” “I don't want any cream filling. Not after hearing that fuss down there.” Rico chuckled. “Looks like you got work to do, partner.” “And it looks like you just signed on to help.” Sonny grinned and waved toward the door. “Gangs sent over everything they have on everyone since the boat lift, I think. I'm trying to weed out the bad stuff before we have Mindy and Trudy work their magic on it. We need a good picture of the Dominicans and Columbians before we can move on the heroin dealer. Especially if what Robbie said is true.” Tubbs followed him in and slumped into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Dave or Randy been by yet? I got questions for one of 'em.” “I think they're scouting hide sites. They want to start overwatching some of those neighborhoods, which is why we get to sort through the Gang Unit's scrap heap.” “Thank 'em next time you see those chumps, will you? The Gang Unit, I mean.” Reaching out, he took the smaller stack. “Gotta let you flex those boss muscles.” “You think I enjoy this?” “No, Sonny. Ease back, man.” Sonny shook his head, sitting down with a sigh. He knew he'd snapped at Rico for no good reason. “I'm sorry, partner. This whole thing take some adjustment, you know? I hope they cut Marty loose soon. This ain't my scene.” Tubbs looked at one folder with a sneer and tossed it aside. “The Urban Kings? Don't they know that gang got busted – by THEM, mind – four years ago? At least.” “Like I said, I think they just cleaned off their desks and sent it all to us. Once we thin 'em down, I might have Trudy run some of the stuff by Gina and see if it tracks in her world. Most of those gangs run girls, or beat them, and since quite a few of the girls are junkies of one stripe or another...” “Follow the trail of used needles. Solid.” Tubbs grinned, then shook his head and tossed another file. “Seriously? I don't think the Sons of Dracula were ever even a gang. Maybe a bad movie Stan watched one night.” They worked their way through the files, and an hour later had the mess down to a reasonable stack. Sonny looked at the discards covering his desk. “I'll hold these for a day or so just in case we missed something. Then they're ALL going back to the Gang Unit. Two can play the dumpster game.” “I'd run 'em back myself, but I'm allergic.” “Allergic? To what?” “Cheap suits and lazy cops.” Sonny shook his head. “There's some good cops in the Gang Unit, Rico.” “Yeah, and they're all working the street. Not writing reports. Their squad room's like a bad rerun of the 'Mod Squad' or something. And that captain needs to cut back on the polyester and Kojak reruns.” “You got me there, partner.” Sonny pushed up from the chair with a groan. “Let's get this stuff to Trudy and Mindy so they can work their magic.” Trudy stared from Sonny and Rico to the pile of folders and back again. “You want what from this mess now?” “As much as you can put together about which gang's actually involved in this war and what their turfs look like.” Sonny smiled. “It's mostly for Dave and Randy so they can do a visual recon of the areas, but it will help us get a solid handle on what's going on. Robbie's intel confirms the war's over some heroin source, and we need to know the players before we can get in the game.” Trudy's eyes narrowed. “Heroin. You mean...” “Yeah. The same chain that killed your sister and Noogie. Whoever's running it is buried deep in one of those neighborhoods, so we need a better understanding of what's going on in there.” Mindy took the files, moving her crutches so she could sit down. “We'll have it for you as quick as we can, boss.” “Thanks. There's more in my office, but Tubbs and I tried to sort through it to get rid of the obvious garbage. But we're not trained in this stuff. If you think something's missing, check there. I'll hold onto it for a day or so and then ship the stack back to Gangs.” “What about these?” “Keep 'em as long as you need them. If Gangs wants something back we'll make copies of what we need.” Sonny looked at the two women. “Our operation has priority. From Metro-Dade's own head shop. Gangs may not like it, but they'll shut up and color.” Trudy looked down at the files, and Sonny could see the anger in her eyes. “I thought we shut that heroin down.” “So did we. But it turns out Tio was just another buyer like Reno. Nicky Fuentes is trying to front for it now, but it's not his, either.” Sonny shook his head. “The truth is we don't know who's bringing it in. Robbie's heard rumors, but nothing solid. And intel's got nothing so far. The quantity was low enough it didn't hit their radar until that bad batch made it through. Moncado's snow storm was a pretty good screen for this guy, whoever the hell he is.” “I hate to say it, Sonny, but you think we should go rattle Izzy's cage about this?” “Not yet, Rico. I don't like dealing with the little weasel unless we've got more to go on.” Sonny shrugged. “It's not that I don't trust him, I just don't trust him when I'm going in cold.” “You got a point.” Rico followed Sonny back into Castillo's office. “Sonny, I gotta ask. Did any special intel come in?” “Nothing out of the ordinary.” Sonny sat down and waved Rico to a chair. “Why?” “Marty...Marty said he was going to look into Ricardo Junior for me. He said we've got better access here, and...” “He wasn't kidding about that.” Sonny leaned across the desk, seeing the old hurt in his partner's eyes. “I'll keep my eyes open and let you know when something comes in, Rico. You've got my word.” “Thanks, partner.” Tubbs sat for a time, and Sonny could see the effort he was putting into collecting himself. “Hear from Billy lately?” “Not really.” Sonny smiled a thin smile and turned to look out the window. That was the only good thing about being in this office. The view. I can damned near see the ocean from here. “Once Caroline and Bob moved to Atlanta that pretty much dried up.” He turned back to Rico. “And honestly, Bob's a better dad for him than I could be. I missed too damned much. Being a drive-by dad just doesn't work too damned well.” That's why I would have left the force for Caitlin and Will. Don't make the same mistake twice. “Yeah. I guess not.” Rico got up and walked to the big window. “Damn! View from here's almost as good as Casa Cooper.” “But Castillo doesn't have a bar.” Sonny chuckled. “We could always hit up Rizzo's. Check out the day shift girls and see what's going down.” “For five bucks they're going down.” Tubbs laughed. “I gotta be straight with you, Sonny. Those day shift girls scare the hell out of me.” “Aw, come on Rico. Some of them might not even be girls.” Sonny slapped his partner on the shoulder. “Still, we can go pay our respects to Noogie and see if there's any word out. Lots of low-level dealers pass through that dump, and I know at least one of the door guys would have it in for whoever sold that heroin.” “Ok, but you're paying for any dry cleaning. That place gives me a rash.” Sonny was still chuckling when they passed Stan on the way through the outer office. “That's one hell of a ride, Sonny,” the big man enthused, eyes bright. “You know some of that rig is digital? Digital! No more smoking tubes. I'm in heaven.” “You and Lester earned it, big guy. The marshal's service didn't even blink when I asked for a replacement. And they sent the best they could find.” Sonny smiled, glad to see Stan so happy. He's not second-string any more. Not by a long shot. So he deserves the best gear I can get him. “Got a name for it yet?” “Yep. Gonna check with Lester and see if he's cool with it. But goodbye Bug Van, hello Roach Coach!” Rico laughed. “I like it! You gonna name the roach, too?” “I'll let Lester do that. It's like half his anyhow.” Once they were in the elevator, Rico turned to Sonny. “Good to see those two working well together.” “Yeah, it is. Kinda like having Bluto and Lee Harvey Oswald back together again.” Sonny smiled. The blame he laid on himself for Zito's murder was still there, but he'd made changes and sworn he wouldn't push anyone like that again. Except himself. Maybe that was part of the reason he'd stood up in front of Maynard out there in the Keys. It was a memory he still didn't like getting close to. Tubbs looked around their corner of the underground garage. “I see Trudy's still driving that monster.” Sonny looked over at the Challenger. “Yeah. One of these days I'll have to run against her in the Ferrari. Just to see.” He grinned. “It is a damned fine car, though.” Tubbs nodded. “And after she put that bullet through Maynard's face I'd say it suits her down to the damned ground.” Neither man had talked much about the fight in the Keys, letting the memories settle into each of them in their own way. In fact, after the formal debrief no one on the Task Force had really mentioned it much. Sonny understood the process. Each member had to deal with what had happened in their own way. He'd seen it in Nam, and back on the streets once he joined the force. The key was to deal with it and not just bury it like he'd done with his time in Vietnam. Once they were in the Ferrari and heading for Rizzo's he looked over at Tubbs. “You given any more thought to retiring that wheel gun of yours? I know you like it, but...” “I know, Sonny. It's a liability with what we're doing now.” Rico nodded, looking out the window at the buildings flashing by as the Ferrari accelerated. “I've been meaning to talk to Dave and Randy about it. I think I'll be like Switek and go with a 9mm. I'd rather go from not having enough bullets to having too many.” Sonny nodded. “Sure. Same kind of recoil, too. I've shot .45 pretty much my whole life so it's natural. But .38 to 9mm isn't a huge jump.” “Yeah. That's what I thought. And I gotta go with something sleek. To stick with Cooper's cover.” Tubbs chuckled and corrected himself. “I mean covers. Different day, different Cooper after all.” Sonny nodded, thinking back to the SIG he'd used during his Burnett episode. Still don't really know what to call that whole thing. Aside from one big mess. “Just don't go with a SIG, ok?” “Bad memories.” Tubbs smiled. “I get it, partner. I don't like 'em anyhow. Not stylin' enough for Cooper.” He scratched his chin. “I did some reading in those gun magazines Dave likes to bring in. I've been thinking about a Walther.” “Good German engineering. Hard to go wrong there.” “Yeah. I like the P-88, at least what I've seen of it.” Sonny nodded. “A bit pricey, but I hear they shoot damned well. Fifteen round magazine, too. About three times what your old Smith has.” He grinned. “Smith & Wesson makes some nice nines, too.” “I know. But if I'm gonna change, I want to change all the way. You know?” “Yeah, I do. Speaking of that, you call Debbie again?” “No. Don't know if I will. She wants something more, Sonny. And I just ain't there yet, you know?” “Oh, yeah. I know that one. Too many unanswered questions of your own. And then there's my thing with Jenny, whatever the hell it is. Maybe one of these days we'll figure it out, you and me.” He slammed the Ferrari down a gear and whipped past a bus that was taking its time in the wrong lane. “Or maybe it is just about the Job.” Behind his sunglasses he knew his eyes showed his doubts. Rico needed to know about his son before he could move on. And what the hell am I waiting for? Got no loose ends now. Except maybe for me. Rizzo's never seemed to change. They traded words with the doorman, and Sonny let the question drop sounding like an afterthought. “Anyone around here got a line on H? My friend here's looking to diversity his holdings a bit.” The big guy looked confused. “He wants to buy more than coke. That makin' sense now?” “Oh, yeah.” The block of meat grinned, showing gaps where teeth had once been. “We ain't seen much of that since Noogie, God rest his soul in the pole, passed on. There's this one punk keeps comin' by, though. I think he's sweet on Jasmine. She works the five to midnight.” “What's his name?” “Nicky I think.” “We've passed on that punk, too, pal. He's got a mouth his product can't back.” Sonny smiled, knowing his sunglasses added menace to the look. “Anyone else?” The big guy screwed up his face, thinking. Then he leaned forward. “You didn't hear this from me, but one of the girls rides the tiger now an' again. Name's Trixie. She's a part-timer. Mostly works Wednesday through Friday on the ten to two shift. You can't miss her. Big ol' cans and blue hair.” He shrugged. “Don't do nothin' for me but some of the guys get into it. She makes decent tips.” Sipping the big guy a twenty, Sonny followed Rico inside. “I kinda want to spill some booze on that pole,” he said, looking toward the center of the club where a pasty brunette was doing a third-rate leg twirl. “Just to say hello to Noogie.” “I still can't believe the little chump had himself poured into that pole. No, check that. I can believe he'd do it. I just can't believe they let him.” “Noogie made this place some good money.” Sonny pointed up at the blown ceiling loudspeakers. “For all his faults he was a damned good DJ. This new guy ain't got shit on him.” “Yeah, I get it. Bad tunes throw the girls off, and tips go down. Dudes ain't comin' in, no one buys the drinks.” Tubbs eased up to the bar and signaled the bald man lazing by the register. “Two beers. Bottles. Coors if you have it.” “We got Bud, Miller, and Schlitz. Coors is rare as real tits in this place, friend.” “Two Millers, then. Bottles,” Tubbs repeated, watching the bartender turn toward the beer cooler. “I don't trust the taps in this place.” “Hell, I don't trust the pissers in this place.” Sonny grinned, watching the brunette sleepwalking through the rest of her set. “And if she had blue hair I'd say she was out girl. She looks hopped up to me.” “That she does, partner. And if she is, I'll bet she buys from that Trixie.” Tubbs watched as the girl gave a half-assed bow and almost staggered off stage to scattered cheers. “Let's finish our beer and get the hell out before we catch something modern medicine hasn't heard of yet.” The beer did nothing to break the heat of the Miami streets. Sonny pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and headed for the car. “That was my one big idea for the day, Rico. Unless you've got something better I'd say we head back and see what our ladies have come up with.” “What about Metro-Dade's Narcotics unit? They aren't part of OCB yet, and they might have something hidden away we can use.” “From what I hear OCB snatched up most of their people and their cases after we left.” Sonny sighed and climbed in the Ferrari. “Still, you're right. It's worth a look. Maybe we should reach out to Gina, too, and see if she has anything on this Trixie. Hard to miss a girl with fake tits and blue hair in this town.” What was left of Metro-Dade's Narcotics division clung to a suite of offices on the third floor of police headquarters. Sonny and Rico flashed their IDs, and in minutes they were in the squad room. Or what was left of the squad room. Desks sat empty, and a few fans rotated their blades in a losing effort to shift the stale air from one end of the room to the other. “It's like a damned ghost town,” Rico whispered to Sonny while they waited for someone to notice them. A door at the far end of the room opened, and a thin man in a rumpled gray suit stuck his head out. “You guys from OCB come to claim the last of my resources?” Sonny grinned, recognizing the man from a past case. “No, John. We aren't even OCB any more. Haven't been with them for a few months now.” “Sonny Crockett!” John Vallencio came out of the office, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “It's been, what, six years now? And Ricardo Tubbs! How you been? I heard you two left the force.” “We did. Then Castillo talked us into coming back. We're working a special detail now.” “Must be that task force I hear OCB whining about all the time.” John chuckled. “If you're pissing them off, you're ok with me. Come on in and take a load off.” John's office was a welter of files, street maps, and strategically-placed ashtrays. Tapping a Marlboro out of the pack, he picked up one of the many matchbooks scattered across his desk and lit up. “Smoke 'em if you got 'em,” he announced with a grin. “Now what the hell brings you to my little graveyard?” “Man, it is, isn't it? Who the hell did you piss off?” “No one. But that prick from Homicide who got OCB has never liked me. Or Narcotics for that matter. Always claimed we were screwing up his clearance rates. So when he got the chance he came in and cleaned me out.” John chuckled. “Of course, it might be swinging back after you guys took down Gorman. The bosses are NOT happy about that.” Rico laughed. “Screw them. If they're not happy, I'm happy.” “Pretty much. But that's tomorrow's news. What can I do for you gents today?” “We got handed the Dominican-Columbian mess by our bosses.” Sonny raised his hand. “Can't go into it too much, but they're bigger than OCB's bosses. Anyhow, it seems heroin's at the bottom of at least part of it. We've got our people working up the gang intel, but I was wondering if you'd picked up any noise about the heroin side.” “It was public enemy number one when that bad batch hit the streets.” John drew deep on his cigarette and sent a cloud of smoke floating toward the ceiling. “Then it dropped away again once the bad stuff cleared. We tracked that shipment to some punk named Tio, who was moving it through another punk named Reno.” “Yeah. We tied up that loose end for you.” “So that was you guys?” John whistled. “Damn slick. And lots of firepower. The heroin disappeared for like a week and then started popping up again. Same high-grade Asian stuff. Never in big quantities, but enough to kill a hooker or two once or twice a week. I hear Nicky Fuentes is trying to get back in on it, but he's not the supplier.” “Yeah. We went through Reno to get to him, and then Tio popped up.” Sonny shook his head. “At the time we thought Tio was the connection.” “Welcome to the club. So did we. But it's obvious he ain't.” John reached into his desk and pulled out a battered and stained folder. Opening it, he turned to a heavily-thumbed section. “My intel says it's coming in somewhere in Dominican turf, but it didn't start there. This smack has been popping up off and on for about fifteen years, I think. The guy before me was tracking it, and he gave me this folder when he moved out and I moved in.” John stared down at the paper, his head surrounded by smoke. “He kept hearing rumors of one guy running the show. Never had a solid fix, just a street name. Doc. That's all he got.” Rico leaned forward. “This Doc got a trademark?” “Not really. His horse is high-end, though. Always comes in these little baggies with a red cross on them. Haskins tried to get a fix on him, but never could. And I haven't been able to, either. He spreads his product around too much, deals in small quantities, and seems ruthless as hell if someone gets close. Over the years I've had one or two dealers I thought I could cut deals with to get more on him, but they always turn up in alleys shot in the back of the head. Or they just disappear.” “And that's it?” Sonny leaned back, pulling out his own Luckies and lighting one with his Ronson. “Yeah. No name, not even a hint as to the guy's race. Just Doc. And I didn't dig that up.” John closed the folder and sighed. “The guy's damned good. I'll give him that. He's got himself insulated. I've been trying to build a picture of him.” He tapped his forehead. “Up here, you know? But it's tough. Whoever he is doesn't deal with the street. He's ruthless as they come. And I think he knows something about police work. Don't ask me how, but he's avoided just enough stings and the like that I think he knows our moves from the inside.” “A good detective trusts his gut. And you were always a good detective.” Sonny looked at the battered folder. “Can you send me a copy of that? I've got two analysts who might be able to make something of it.” “Sure. I'll send it over first thing.” Sonny gave him in the inter-office code and they talked for a few more minutes. “It was good to see you again, John,” he said as he stubbed out his cigarette in one of the four ashtrays on the desk. “We'll keep you in the loop with this so we don't end up tripping over each other.” “I'd appreciate it. I don't have the manpower to go after Doc, but coordination's always a good thing.” John Vallencio stood up and shook hands with both detectives. “Stop by again and we'll have a drink or two. I'd love to see how the other half lives.” “Count on it.” Sonny smiled. “It has been too damned long, hasn't it?' Back on the street Rico looked up and sighed. “Good to be out of that damned place. It gives me a rash.” “What doesn't give you a rash? Maybe you need to get some ointment for that sensitive skin of yours.” “Only if there's a pretty lady to rub it on.” Tubbs chuckled as they headed for the car. “What did you think of his story?” “John's a damned good cop. You know that as well as I do. And Haskins was sharp, too. Had damned good street instincts. If they think there's someone called Doc behind this...” Sonny paused. “Well, someone needs to show me there isn't before I'd stop looking.” “Same feeling I've got. But it sure ain't much to go on.” Sonny paused as he was unlocking the Ferrari. “Maybe it is. If the guy's bringing in high-grade China White that means he's got a contact over there he's working with. That stuff doesn't just fall out of the sky. And the people who control the trade don't work with outsiders much. But he can't be too big, because the quantities are too low.” “So you're thinking a direct smuggling operation with no middleman to be seen.” Tubbs nodded. “It makes sense. But why fight over a setup like that? If it's that kind of connection, it dries up if something happens to this Doc.” “They might not know that. If the guy's as insulated as John thinks, neither gang is going to know how he operates. The Columbians would think he's just a middle man, and they're used to dealing with them. Who knows what the Dominicans think? Maybe he pays them for protection.” Sonny started the car and put it in gear, easing out of the police lot and into traffic. “Either way I don't think they know what they're dealing with.” “Hopefully that collection of cocktail napkins and God knows what else will make sense to Trudy and Mindy.” “If anyone can figure it out, those two can.” Sonny shot through a gap in traffic and accelerated. “I'm just hoping Stan and Lester can put together some kind of surveillance plan to deal with those gangs. We need ears on them as well as eyes.”

I'm not sure how quickly this one will flow, or how long it'll end up being. But I figured I'd bore y'all one more time with my ramblings. It takes up right after The More Things Change... wraps up. If there was one thing Earl Lester Holmes hated more than the Federal government and illegal aliens, and Communists if he was honest, it was not knowing. And right now he was pissed as hell. “What do you mean you don't know?” He glared across at his right hand man, thick fingers balling into a fist. “I mean I don't know, boss. Honest. I tried drivin' out there, but the cops have the road closed off. Couldn't see no smoke, but there was choppers in the air and all that crap.” Benny looked down at the scarred bar top. “I think someone done took that spic Moncado out.” Holmes looked down at his open Budweiser bottle, turning the thought over in his head. Benny wasn't one to exaggerate. Or lie, in point of fact. He'd known Benny for years, going back to before he was drafted and sent over to Vietnam. He might be as dumb as a box of dead toads, but he was loyal. Loyal counted for much in Holmes' view of things. “You see any sign of the colonel?” “No, boss.” Benny's eyebrows went up, vanishing in the thicket of hair falling almost into his eyes. “You figure he was there?” He said he was gonna be. Had some old mess to clean up, he said. Well, maybe that mess cleaned him up. Holmes and the colonel went way back, not as far as he and Benny but to Vietnam at least. Holmes had managed to con his way into a depot job in Saigon instead of his original assignment with the 1st Battalion, 16th Infantry north of the capital. He'd been sitting in one of the ammo facilities counting his blessings when the tall man with the thick, dark mustache he'd sported even then came in. He glared at the office in charge, a reedy captain with thick black-framed glasses and no backbone, and turned to Holmes. “Sergeant,” he said in a strange nasal voice. “I need two thousand rounds of 7.62mm belted ammo and three LAWs.” The captain started stammering about requisition forms and authority, when the man with eagles on his collar and no nametape cut him short. “”No one's talking to you, boy. I'm talking to the sergeant. You going to get those items, sergeant?” Even then Holmes had a well-developed survival instinct. He guessed the captain might write him up, but he knew this strange colonel would do much worse and not think twice about it. Something in the man's intense eyes, perched above that mustache and a narrow, hawk-like nose, said he didn't tolerate dissent. So he snapped off his best drill field salute. “Yes, sir. Just getting it together now, sir,” he said in as firm a voice as he could muster before scurrying off to the weapons lockers. Within minutes he was back with the ammunition and had some slack-jawed PFC toting the LAWs. They'd been doing business ever since, with breaks of months in some cases due to travel on Maynard's part. The captain had been set to make a fuss when he found himself transferred to a firebase a few miles from the Cambodian border. Holmes, on the other hand, thrived. He'd made good money helping the colonel he lated learned was named Maynard arrange for weapons and other supplies. Taking a deep drink of beer, he let his mind wander back to those sweaty days filled with the smell of raw sewage, fermenting rotting fish, and a mass of other, unidentifiable smells meaning Saigon to him. To this day he couldn't stomach the stench of an outhouse. It had been money that brought them together, and kept them together if Holmes was honest. Sure it was great fun to watch Maynard kick the Commies in the nuts, but he appreciated good old American cash even more. And if the bastard had gone and gotten himself killed he'd have to work hard to find someone with pockets as deep. Benny interrupted his musings. “What do you want me to do, boss?” “Get back over there and sniff around. See if you can find a cop who wants a drink or some quick cash and find out what the hell happened. Then get back here quick. If the colonel's dead I want to know, understand?” He waited until Benny nodded and turned away from the bar before finishing his beer. It was always good to make sure Benny understood what he'd been told. TWO WEEKS LATER The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and some kind of bleach. Sonny Crockett had never liked the smell of hospitals, but there was no helping it. Martin Castillo wanted to see him. He'd been able to steal a couple of days with Jenny, but that looked to be over now. And to Tubbs' eternal regret she didn't have a sister. Two long weeks had passed since the firefight at Tico Moncado's estate in the Florida Keys, and the various agencies supporting the Task Force were still picking at the pieces like coyotes circling the corpse of an ox. DEA practically had multiple orgasms over the documents Moncado had in his well-appointed study; details of deals going back years with a variety of players in the Southeast and beyond. He suspected the CIA was worried about what a search of Maynard's files would disclose, but Sonny and his team had been careful to take any of Maynard's files with them before they left the scene of the firefight. Sonny and Rico both knew the value of insurance when dealing with the Feds. ATF impounded every automatic weapon they could find, and blanched when a search of the estate turned up four more LAWs and almost twenty pounds of plastic explosives, all military-grade. And the FBI issued release after release claiming they'd had someone inside the organization and had been waiting for the right moment to stage a raid. Dave, the more outspoken of the three deputy marshals assigned to the Task Force, had laughed loud and long when he heard that. “In FBI-speak that means 'we have no idea what the holy fuck just happened, but you can believe us when we claim we did.' It's horse shit. Always has been.” Sonny was still sorting it out in his head when he walked into the private hospital room, showing his ID to the deputy on duty. They'd kept security tight since the evac chopper with Castillo and Randy on board landed on the hospital roof. Randy, the second of their three deputies and Dave's spotter from their scout-sniper days in Vietnam, had stabilized Castillo after Maynard shot him, and the medics on the medivac credited him with saving the lieutenant's life. “I just did my damned job,” was all Randy would say. Breathing shallow to avoid as much of the hospital smell as possible, Sonny stepped in and smiled. Unlike the other times he'd been by, Martin Castillo was awake. Propped up in the bed with pillows, he looked tired, the stubble on his face a dark mask making him even more sinister that usual. Trudy Joplin sat next to the bed holding Castillo's hand, and she smiled when Sonny came in. “Look who's come to visit, Marty.” Castillo managed a thin smile. “It's about time.” “Hell, Marty. It's about time you were actually awake when I came by.” His laugh was only slightly forced. “Mindy said you wanted to see me, so here I am.” He walked over to the bed. “I gotta say you're looking better.” “I understand we got Maynard.” “Trudy got Maynard.” Sonny nodded to her. “But yeah, he and Moncado are both gone.” “Good.” Castillo closed his eyes for a moment. “That's good to know. And the task force?” “We're still in business. The chief deputy sent us all on leave pending the return of our wounded, but we're still operational.” Sonny smiled. “He's happy as hell we made the FBI look bad for starters, and he's not complaining about the goodwill coming from the DEA and ATF, either. I don't think the CIA's very happy, but they'd have to admit they exist to show they were pissed. Rico and I also have some insurance, just in case.” “Good.” Castillo squeezed Trudy's hand and then locked eyes with Sonny. “I'm putting you in charge of the Task Force effective immediately. If we stop moving, other agencies will take shots at us. I've already told the chief deputy you will be acting in my place until I return to duty.” Sonny felt his eyes go wide. “Marty, I...” “You're ready for the responsibility. There are notes in my desk to help you along.” He closed his eyes again and sank back on the pillows. Trudy got to her feet. “The doctors say Stan should be back to work in a day or two, and Lester not long after that. He'll be on crutches and in two casts, but he swears he can still run a recorder and check taps.” She bent down and kissed Castillo on the forehead. “I'll be right back, honey.” Then she turned and led Sonny into the hall, shutting down his questions with a raised hand. “But Trudy, I...” “It took him all morning to work up the strength for that little show.” Her voice was low but hot. Sonny couldn't remember ever hearing her this mad before. “It could be weeks before he's back, and they'd shut us down by then. You know that as well as I do. The Task Force means everything to him.” “No, Trudy. You mean everything to him. But I get it.” Sonny pushed his fear back down inside. He'd always hated being in charge, but he knew Castillo was right. And he owed this to Marty. Hell, he owed at least this to Marty. “I'll do it. You take as much time as you need to get him better. He'll heal faster knowing you're there.” Now it was his turn to raise his hand. “I know you want to help. Come in when you can and keep working intel. Mindy's good, and she can pick up the slack while you're tending to Marty.” He reached down and took her hands. “Without him the Task Force is nothing. I'll hold the fort, but we need him back.” He looked down the hall, toward the other two rooms. “What about Gina?” “I see her almost every day.” “Could you...” He paused, not quite sure what to say. “Tell her I kept that promise. Or that Dave kept it for me. She'll understand. And let her know there's still a spot for her if she's interested. I know she's happy where she is, but it's always good to know you have options, too.” “I'll let her know, Sonny.” Trudy leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I know this isn't easy, but it's for Marty. And I'd better get back to him.” Sonny stood in the hall for a time after she left, letting the reality sink in. They were down so many people he'd have to keep working the field, which didn't bother him a bit. What worried him was having to sit and do paperwork and talk to clowns who'd never done a day undercover and built their reputations on the work of others. He was more comfortable running and gunning than he was walking and talking. But Marty asked, and he'd given his word. “Shit,” he muttered as he turned and walked out into the Miami afternoon heat. The remains of the task force looked up when Sonny entered the conference room from the outer office. Mindy's crutches were propped up behind her chair. The ankle she'd twisted during the firefight at Moncado's estate was still giving her trouble, but she looked up and smiled, her blue eyes sparking and set off by her red hair. Dave and Randy, the bookend former scout-snipers, sat together near the end of the table, still going through their range cards and notes from the fight. And Ricardo Tubbs sprawled in one of the chairs in all his Armani-clad glory. Settling into the chair at the head of the table, Sonny felt like a little boy sneaking into his father's chair just before a formal Christmas dinner. “Ok, people. I'll make this quick. I spoke to the lieutenant today, and he must have hit his head in addition to everything else because he put yours truly in charge until he gets back. On the bright side, Stan should be back in a day or two and Lester soon after that. Lester won't be jumping any fences, but he'll be good to go in the tech room and that's where we'll need him. Trudy will be helping the lieutenant and coming in when she can to help with intel. She wanted to do more, but I told her the first thing is to get Marty well.” Dave looked up from his notes. “Gotta say it. He made a good choice. We got your back, boss.” Sonny nodded, knowing if he tried to say anything he'd just sound like an ass. But it meant the world hearing Dave say that. The deputy was the more critical of the three, always first with a sharp remark if someone did something stupid. Knowing he had the sniper's confidence made him feel better about being in charge, even for a short time. Randy nodded his agreement. “You got strong tactical sense and you're fair as hell. When do we get our next op, boss?” “As soon as your chief sends one our way.” He turned to Mindy. “Castillo says he already talked to him, but could you make sure he knows we're operational?” He chuckled and corrected himself. “Well...we're at least ready for limited duty.” She smiled, dimples showing on her pale cheeks. “I'll do that, boss. Anything else we need?” “A new Bug Van. I'd like to be able to welcome Stan home with something more than a charred tire and melted hula girl bobble head doll.” “You got it.” She gathered up her crutches and hobbled to the outer office. “Tubbs, I want you to give me a hand. Castillo said something about notes in his desk.” A knowing smile crossed Rico's face. “Let's get on it, partner. I mean boss.” As soon as they were in the office, Sonny let out an exasperated sigh. “Not you, too, man. It feels strange enough sitting in his damned chair without those three calling me boss. It's...” “It's respect, Sonny. You earned theirs out there in the Keys. You should hear Mindy talk about how you stood up in front of Maynard, or Dave and Randy go on about you blasting those chumps by the door. It's their way of showing respect, and don't treat it like anything less.” Sonny swallowed the verbal slap without comment. He knew Rico was right. And the last thing he wanted to do was ignore their respect. It just all felt so damned strange. Shaking his head, he sat down in Castillo's chair, feeling again like a kid sneaking into dad's den and sitting in his special chair. “I know you're right, Rico. It just feels so damned strange. We walk away from the Job for a year and inside of three months I end up running things.” “Don't try to figure it out, partner. Just...” “I know. Just roll with it. Damn, I hate that term now.” “Jenny still playing strange?” “We basically play 'don't ask, don't tell.' She doesn't ask what I do, and I don't ask what she does. It's this weird dance, but it works for now. But if the Job calls...” “You'll do what has to be done. I know that, Sonny.” Rico smiled. “I been keepin' tabs on her just in case. So far she's staying away from drugs and not showing up on anyone's radar.” “Thanks. Let me know if she does.” “You got it.” Rico was about to say something more when the phone rang. “Crockett.” Mindy's soft voice filled his ear. “The deputy chief's on line one, boss. He wants a word.” “Thanks.” Sonny hit the flashing button and took a deep breath. “Deputy Chief.” The voice on the other end was Cracker-sharp and old school to the core. “Call me Pete, son. I'll call you detective in polite company if that's ok.” The tone said it was. “I know you're new in the saddle an' all, but we got a situation I think is perfect for the task force.” “That's what we're here for.” “Good. You know that damned gang war Metro-Dade's draggin' its feet over? We got intel suggesting it's about controlling the heroin trade in that part of town, maybe the whole city. One of my boys is bringin' the files over in, what the hell did you call it, the bug van?” Pete chuckled, a dry, dusty sound. “You boys got a nice sense of humor. Look forward to a sit-down with you. Have a look-see at those files an' let me know what you need. We want that heroin flow shut down.” Sonny looked at the buzzing receiver and hung it up with a slight grin. “You looked like you were in a debate with Yosemite Sam.” “Maybe I was, partner. That deputy chief sounds like one of those old-time, old school Southern sheriffs.” “He's black, isn't he?” “So I hear. But he sure as hell sounds like an old-time Cracker.” Sonny leaned back in the chair. “They're sending a new van and a guy with some files. We get to take down the heroin connection Reno and Tio were tapped into. Then getting killed seems to have sparked that whole Columbian-Dominican turf war.” It was just past two when Sonny felt he'd gone over the files enough to brief the rest of the task force on their contents. He'd always hated briefings, and it was worse when he had to come up with the content. But Castillo always did his own, and Sonny was determined to follow his example. “We got our next operation, and it's more of Moncado's garbage.” He raised his hands. “Not going through trash bags like those stiffs in the DEA, though. Higher has good intel that the gang war we keep hearing about is over heroin. The heroin Reno and Tio used to control. With then gone, it's up for grabs and the Columbians want to grab it from the Dominicans. Our job is to shut the flow down.” Dave looked at the files. “Does higher have anything other than nice pictures an' some gossip they picked up in some cheap bar down on the strip?” “They do. I was as surprised as you are. Turns out our little buddy Nicky Fuentes is still in the game and still trying to move heroin.” Randy scratched his chin. “Who's he in bed with?” “Neither side, yet. They're too busy shooting at each other to go after him, but sooner or later it'll occur to one of them to grab him. My money's on the Columbians. They've been doing this longer. The Dominicans are as tough as they come but they're still pretty new to this side of the drug trade.” “Pot's always been their calling card.” Rico flipped through the pictures. “They've got good routes and some Jamaican connections. We busted a few of them back when I first came to Miami.” He smiled at a memory. “Teddy Prentiss when I was still using that cover.” “We might have to resurrect good ol' Teddy once we haul in Nicky. We can't use Cooper from the islands until he's off the street.” Sonny shook his head. “And Burnett is a fixture in the night life. I just can't get away from the guy.” Mindy looked up from the notes. “Their intel's pretty thin, boss.” “Trudy should be in tomorrow, and as soon as we get Stan back he can start working his magic on the phones.” He looked around the table. “I know we're starting with next to nothing, but we're also down people and capability. We build our intel and then we pick our targets. The chief deputy wasn't talking about arrests when he called. He wants this problem shut down.” He paused on Dave and Randy. “I know you guys are mostly shooters, and damned good one, but did you want to try your hands at undercover stuff? Something other than Burnett's goons, anyhow.” Dave shook his head. “I'm happy lookin' like the dumb guy with the gun, boss. Tell the truth, I suck at UC work. I'll step in if you need it, but it ain't my strong suit.” Randy smiled. “I can do it. Done it before. But we can also gather visual intel for you, boss. Get up high and start scoutin' the lay of the land. Dealers work corners, right? Give us sixteen hours of roof time and I can give you every dealer and every lookout we can see from that roof.” “That's a hell of a good idea. Mindy, can you pull some target zones for them from what we got from the office?” “I think so. Trudy would be a big help with that, though. She knows those streets.” “It can wait until she comes in. At least get some of the prep work done. And you two put in requisitions for whatever gear you need for the job. I'll clear it with Metro-Dade, or at least tell them to stay the hell out of our way.” Back in Castillo's office, Sonny finally took a normal breath before flopping down in the chair. At least he'd made it through without sounding like an ass. And they'd come out with a decent plan of action. Now he just needed to figure out how to balance the damned paperwork with the time he knew he'd have to spend on the streets. Sonny Crockett hated paperwork. Always had, going all the way back to his first job applications and football scholarships. Even when people gave him money he hated filling things out. And now he guessed that's what he'd have to do. Reaching into the center drawer of the desk he pulled out a slim black notebook and opened it, finding everything organized and written in a narrow precise hand he guessed had to be Castillo's. It told him were every form was filed, which ones had to be done and which ones he could ignore, and toward the back was a list of contacts for various things ranging from buy money to new tires for their confiscated cars. “Dear God,” he muttered. “A form for new socks?” “Sounds like you just found paperwork hell.” Rico grinned from the doorway. “Be careful, pal. There might be a form authorizing me to smack the shit out of you.” Sonny grinned himself, tossing the notebook on the desk. “Marty left a damned good list. I can't complain about that. It's just...” “We never saw that side of it before.” “Exactly. I'm surprised the man ever got to leave this office. He does have a list of which ones we have to do, and that's a damned sight shorter. But he can get away with that. I can't.” Sonny shook his head. “I'm the new guy so I have to color inside the lines with the right crayons.” “I'm sure they'll help out. The marshals, I mean. We made them look damned good out in the Keys. It's the least they can do. At least until we need jobs there.” “I know. After we hauled in Gorman I don't think anyone at OCB will speak to us again. I know their new lieutenant must hate me and Marty.” “That chump from homicide? He's in so far over his head with that gang war I'm surprised they haven't hung him out to dry yet.” “Wait for the next press conference. They might be saving the tar and feathers for that.” Sonny chuckled. “I needed that, Rico. My head was starting to spin. I'm gonna check and see if Dave and Randy have anything they need me to sign off on, and then let's head down to Robbie's club. I need a drink.” The doorman nodded in recognition as they came around from the parking lot. “Mr. Burnett! Mr. Cooper! Head on in. Mr. Cann's in his office, but I'm sure he'd love to see both of you.” Sonny shot his best Burnett glare at one of the women whining at the entry rope and ushered Rico inside. The Sanctuary had become their unofficial headquarters, and Robbie knew all the healthy task force members by name. After one epic late-night session just after the Keys firefight he, Robbie, Dave, and Randy had traded shots and memories of Da Nang and northern South Vietnam into the wee hours. He'd paid for it the next day, and a bit after that, but it brought the four men closer and he could tell Robbie enjoyed having someone else to bore with his whorehouse stories. Rico had been the babysitter, but sometime after three they'd doused him in beer and declared him an honorary jarhead. The next day Sonny paid for his dry cleaning. Robbie sat behind his desk, going through what looked to be sales reports for the past month. He smiled and came around as soon as the two walked in. “Paperwork can wait,” he announced, shaking their hands in turn. “This calls for a celebration.” Rico laughed. “What doesn't call for a celebration?” “Nothing, and that calls for a celebration.” Robbie laughed. “It's good to see you two. Are Dave and Randy coming?” “I don't think so. I just needed to get the hell out of the office and Rico had the bad sense to follow me here.” Robbie went to his private bar and started pouring drinks. “I want you to try this, Sonny. It's a new thing. Small batch bourbon they call it. I think I got the first case in the whole state, and I was saving a bottle just for you.” “Sonny Crockett trying something new?” Rico laughed. “Better call Channel Two and give them an exclusive.” “I try new things all the time, Tubbs. Your sister was new, wasn't she?” Sonny grinned, accepting the glass from Robbie. He took a sip and nodded. “This is damned good. Smooth, but not sharp. What's it called?” “Maker's Mark. Had to special order it.” He handed a glass to Rico and then took a deep sip from his own. “I'd say it's worth it.” “And we even have an occasion.” Tubbs sipped and nodded his agreement with Sonny's appraisal. “They put Sonny in charge of the task force until the lieutenant's ready for duty again.” “I thought I felt the earth shift. Sonny Crockett in charge? And I thought a second lieutenant was dangerous enough.” “Hell, I feel bad enough about it already.” “Relax, Sonny. You'll do fine. You always would.” Robbie waved them to chairs in front of his desk and sat down himself. “I was always the wild one, remember? The one who didn't think. You were the thinker. And you were the one who always hauled my ass out of trouble. That's what leaders do, Sonny. And you were always up front. No matter how rough the bar was or how hot the convoy AO you were always in the first jeep or right at the door with your .45.” “That's only because you ate the damned beans and weenies C-rat so much you were farting all the damned time. It was the only way I could survive!” Sonny laughed, sipping at the bourbon with appreciation. Rico laughed along with them. “My uncle told me about that one from Korea. I guess you are tougher than you look, Robbie.” “You know us skinny Wops.” Robbie slapped the desk top and laughed. “We're tougher than we look.” Sonny sipped more bourbon, turning the question over in his head. Finally he just said it. “I know you're not in the game, Robbie, but you and your guys must hear things. What's the real scoop on that turf war between the Dominicans and the Columbians? We're hearing it's heroin.” Robbie nodded, his face turning grim. “You're hearing right. I hear things mostly because some of the older Dominicans like to drink here Thursday nights. They talk, and my guys keep me up to speed. I think they like it because I don't hassle them.” He smiled. “And they're good to my waitresses and tip well.” “We're hearing it started because Reno and Tio got taken out.” “You heard right. That little punk Nicky Fuentes is trying to take control, but he can barely piss in the toilet without hitting his own leg, let alone run something like that.” “We heard the same thing. Good to know the intel is good for once.” “You remember our training, Sonny? Verify from at least two sources. Three is better. But yeah, Nicky's trying to strut around, but he's scared most of the time. And it's not his heroin to control.” He raised his hand. “I got no idea who's behind it. I hear it's some scary guy deep in the Dominican quarter, but I don't think he's Dominican. Heroin isn't their thing.” Tubbs nodded. “Same thing I told the team earlier. They can get good ganja, but H is out of their league.” “Do me a favor and keep your ears open. Nothing fancy. Don't take any risks. But I need to get a handle on this thing.” “You got it. Hell, it's bad for business. People get killed and tourists stop coming downtown. So far they haven't gotten the Cubans involved yet, and I hope they don't.” “So do I. But I think even the Columbians are smart enough to steer clear of that firepower.” Robbie looked over at Tubbs and chuckled. “So Debbie says you haven't called her back.” Rico raised his hands. “What can I say? I've been busy. I'm sure she's broken-hearted about missing the Ricardo Tubbs charm.” “Not sure I'd go that far, but I'd call her again.” It was Stan Switek's first night out of the hospital, and it felt good to have the tubes out of his arms and all the crap untaped from his chest and face. It still hurt when he smiled, and he felt like he'd been run over by a truck loaded with anvils. But he was eager to get back to work. “Are you sure you want to go back so soon?” Gina's voice echoed from the small kitchen, and he winced as he recognized the tone. “I am, baby. I know it worries the hell out of you, and I promise I'll be careful.” He set down his orange juice and got up from the couch. “You know how you felt when you started in your new unit? How happy you were when they looked up to you and you found out you could do things they couldn't?” She nodded. “Well, that's how I feel now. I've never felt better about this job in my life. They actually need me, not to get coffee or run some two-bit pawn shop sting, but to actually break the case. They respect what I can do. Sonny respects what I can do. I don't get attitude from him any more.” He looked down at her, touching her cheek and feeling wet tears on his fingers. “But if you want, honey, I'll walk away. Go into business like Duddy did.” “You wouldn't just transfer?” “No. OCB won't touch me after that Gorman thing.” Stan snorted. “Never mind he was the one who was dirty. And I couldn't take stepping back down after having been in it where I was. It's hard to go from where you're needed to being just another punk in the lab.” He kissed the top of her head. “But if that's what you want, it's what I'll do. No job is worth losing you. Or making you hurt.” She sniffed and looked up, tears still shining in her eyes. “I couldn't ask you to do that, Stan. You'd never ask me to give up my job, and there's a chance every day that some pimp might come after me. Or a dealer might want to even the score for me taking one of his people off the street. It just...scared me so much when you got hurt. I didn't stop to think about what it might mean to you.” “It doesn't mean as much as you.” He took her in his arms and held her close, ignoring the smell of something scorching on the stove top. “You need to know that.” She giggled and pulled away. “Damn it! The sauce burned!” “It's ok. It's still better than my cooking.” He enjoyed her laugh. “But I meant what I said.” “Go back to work, you big lug.” She dried her tears with a corner of the dish towel and smiled up at him. “I could never ask you to give that up. Not until you're ready to walk away because you want to.” He waited for her to dump the ruined sauce in the sink before pulling her close and kissing her again. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “And I'll be as careful as I can.” Then he laughed. “But who the hell knew that psycho would shoot a LAW at the Bug Van?” Now it was her turn to laugh, and Stan could hear the genuine humor in it. “You have a good point, Stanley Switek. Who in the hell would have thought someone would have a LAW, let alone use it on the van?” The night shift had taken over almost three hours ago, but Trudy Joplin still hadn't left Castillo's bedside. He was asleep, the sheet rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing, and a variety of beeping and flashing instruments tracked every function of his battered body. She knew she'd have to leave soon, if for no other reason than to shower and change clothes before going in to the Task Force. But she didn't want to leave him alone. Didn't want to go back to the house by the sea without him to hold. He stirred, and she shot upright. Just in case he opened his eyes. But he settled back down almost at once, and she suspected another dream. Some nights at the house she'd wake up, feeling him shift on the simple sleeping mat, and realize he was dreaming again. He never spoke of them, but she could tell from his face he was often reliving horrible moments. But she'd also noticed the longer she was there the more rare the dreams became. And she also realized her own dreams came less frequently when she was beside him. Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it tight. Willing some of her strength to flow into his torn body. The doctors all said he was healing at a remarkable rate, but it still seemed too slow to her. She needed him now, not in three weeks or however long it took. Still, she knew she was being selfish. Everyone had been by to pay their respects, even Stan with his bruises and Lester hobbling along on his crutches and sling. She envied Gina. Stan had gone home today. She had her man, while Trudy still waited on hers. If the doctors weren't so worried about infection he'd be home by now. One of the nurses had confided in her during one of those long nights. He'd already had one cycle of antibiotics, and they wanted to be sure before they let him leave. “You need sleep, baby.” His voice sent her to her feet. “I just wanted...” “Knowing you're here gives me comfort.” His voice was thin, dried out by too much hospital air. “But they need you, too. Go home. Get some sleep.” He gave her a thin smile. “That's an order.” “You can't tell me what to do.” But she smiled back, squeezing his hand and kissing his forehead. “But I do need to go in tomorrow.” “Go. I'll see you tomorrow night.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. She drove to the house in a fog, not paying attention to anything until she turned onto the now-familiar dirt road. The Charger growled its way along, and she followed his routine of shutting off the headlights before the last turn and approaching under the cover of darkness. She sat for a minute, window rolled down, listening to the rhythmic thump of the big V-8, before she shut off the car and waited while the night settled back over the house. The heavy MatchMaster hadn't left her side since the shootout in the Keys. Now it rested in her purse, and she smiled as she felt the familiar heft when she picked up the small clutch and got out of the car. At first she hadn't been sure about the change, but after that gun saved both Marty and Sonny she vowed she'd never part with it. The house seemed empty without Castillo, and she kept the lights low as she went about getting ready for bed. After so many years of sleeping alone she had the routine down, but it still felt like something was missing. Like a piece of her, and of the house, wasn't there. Stripping, she pulled on one of his white t-shirts, imagining for a moment she could still smell him on it. A few minutes with the waves and she was ready to sleep. Maybe tonight the dreams would be good ones.