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First part/chapter of my next Vice tale. This one's post-Freefall, and is my take on where the team could go. “You got balls, Burnett. I gotta give you that.” Sonny smiled under his sunglasses. “You don't know the half of it, pal.” The smoking Smith & Wesson 4506 was still in his right hand, the echoes of the shot chasing each other out over the clear blue water. “Now clean up this trash and we can get down to business. My money man, Mr. Cooper, doesn't like talkin' business with trash underfoot.” TWO WEEKS EARLIER Martin Castillo sat in his usual spot at the head of the table. He looked up at the three men and one woman seated two to a side in front of him. “Welcome to the Task Force, detectives. We are all officially seconded from Metro Dade OCB for this assignment. You report directly to me, take orders from me, and answer questions from no one but me.” Sonny Crockett looked over at his old partner, Ricardo Tubbs. “Aren't Tubbs and I off the force, lieutenant?” “No. Paperwork was never turned in. Officially you've both been on leave.” Castillo gave one of his thin smiles that didn't touch his eyes. He slid two badges across the gray laminate table. “You'll need these.” “Solid.” Tubbs grinned at Crockett. “Looks like my career in Southern law enforcement ain't done yet.” Crockett looked at the gold badge sitting in front of him. Weighing the memories in the hunk of metal. But the time away had also shown him how much of his life was tied up in that damned badge. And how empty he was without it. He felt the cool metal under his palm before he even realized he'd reached out for it. Trudy's voice broke the silence. “What about Gina, lieutenant?” “She declined the invitation.” Castillo shifted his gaze to the backs of his hands on the table. “She's officially transferring to victim services. I'm leaving the option open if she changes her mind later.” Trudy shook her head. “I...I didn't know.” Stan Switek cleared his throat, his bright Hawaiian print shirt adding a shock of color to the room. “I talked to her right before this all went down. I'd thought about moving over to Technical Services full-time. It was where I thought I could do the most good. Gina's in a bad place, and working with those girls felt like the best thing for her. She thought it through damned well. Almost convinced me to go with her. Then I heard about this and knew it was where I belonged.” Crockett chuckled in spite of himself. “You gonna blind dealers with that shirt, Stan?” Switek looked up, his normally warm brown eyes dark and hard. “Don't be a dick, Crockett. You're the one who quit, remember? I stayed. Even after you got Larry killed, I stayed. So don't talk to me about shit.” Sonny flinched. The words hit home. Every one of them. He hadquit. Tossed down his badge like a pouting six year old and walked away. And he hadgotten Larry Zito killed. Or his pushing had. It was the same thing either way. He'd told himself the same thing many nights over, usually when the Jack Daniel's in the bottle was below the label. But no one else had ever... He looked down. “You're right, Stan. I'm sorry. Especially for Larry. I deserved that. And more.” “We both quit, Stan.” Tubbs shook his head. “I figure I got to square that with you and Trudy.” Castillo looked up. “The past is something we all carry with us. Something we live with. But we can't change it. We can change how it effects the present. This Task Force closes the door on the past. Any detective who can't deal with that can walk away now and return to normal duties. No questions asked.” He pushed back his chair. “I'll give you five minutes to discuss it.” “No, lieutenant.” Crockett raised his hand. “Stan was right to call me out. Larry's death is on me. I can't change that. But I can promise him I won't push anyone but myself like that ever again. I've lost buddies because of someone else's bad decisions, so I think I understand how he feels. I always said I'd never be that guy, but I was. I have to own that.” Getting up, he walked around the table. “You want to slug me, Stan, I'll give you a free shot. But I'd rather shake your hand and try to start over. Hell, I'll shake your hand and start over even if you knock me flat.” Switek looked at him for a moment, then stood and offered his own hand. “Don't think I wasn't tempted, Sonny. But if I put you in the hospital that means I have to look after that damned alligator of yours.” As they shook hands, Sonny wrapped his free arm around Stan's shoulder. “I really am sorry, Stan. But you're one of the best tech guys I've ever seen. If this is as big as it sounds, we need you more than the team needs me. It might not mean much coming from me, but I miss Zito every day.” Switek's voice started to break. “It does mean something, Sonny.” Breaking free, Sonny slapped Stan on the shoulder before heading back to his chair. “Let's get this dog and pony show on the road.” Castillo nodded. “The Task Force covers multiple jurisdictions. All the way to Federal. We're an independent unit. We work cases as we see fit once they land on our desk.” “These cases. Where do they come from?” Tubbs leaned forward. “Anywhere. We get the ones other agencies can't solve or don't want because they cross jurisdictional lines.” Crockett chuckled. “We get other agencies' garbage.” “No. We can also kick cases back. We work the ones we think we can handle with our resources. The team decides.” Trudy nodded. “It makes sense. What are our resources?” Castillo gestured to take in the table. “Locally? What you see here. Beyond that, we can request technical support from a number of agencies, and the money comes from the Federal level so there's no real limit.” “So it's just us?” She shook her head. “Seems like a stretch.” Crockett tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked up. “Not really. Think about it. We don't have pinch hitters. No FBI clowns coming in to mess up our operation or take our case. Just us taking down bad guys.” “So who's got the juice behind all this?” “A Federal agency. A big one.” Tubbs shook his head. “So a bunch of no-name Feds possibly hanging us out to dry? What could go wrong?” “Nothing. We are covered. You have my word.” Crockett nodded. “Your word's good enough for me, lieutenant. I'm in.” “So am I.” Stan thumped his chest with a clenched fist. “No way I'm gonna let Sonny fend off all those girls by himself.” Trudy smiled. “If you say it's the real deal, lieutenant, I'm in.” “So am I.” Tubbs turned loose one of his jaw-splitting laughs as punctuation. “Can't let you girls have all the fun.” “Good.” Castillo opened the folder in front of him. “You'll need to review and sign these oaths. Once you do, you're special deputies of the U.S. Marshal's Service in addition to your Metro Dade rank. There is additional pay involved, but it's the access we need most.” “Do we have a case yet?” Trudy signed hers with a flourish and slid the form back down the table. “Yes.” Castillo opened the slim briefcase next to his chair and pulled out file folders. “We're closing down a smuggling operation that's been a thorn in the side of several agencies for years now.” Crockett opened his folder and froze. “Isn't that Maynard?” “Yes.” “He knows me and Tubbs. We can't work against him undercover.” “No. But you can shut down one side of his operation. The side that makes money. Once he's in the open, Switek can bring him into range for us.” “Then what?” “We neutralize his operation.” “You mean arrest him?” “No. We stop his operation. All methods are on the table.” Castillo stood. “Crockett. My office.” Castillo's office in the nondescript suite was almost exactly like his old one at OCB, except it was on the tenth floor and had a view of the Miami skyline. Crockett stepped through the connecting door from the conference room, his heart pumping with a mix of excitement and worry. He'd wanted to go after Maynard for years, but any time Castillo wanted to talk to someone alone it always sparked worry. “Sit down.” Castillo waited until Crockett slumped in the chair across from him. “I need to know. Are you ready to go operational as Burnett?” “Work deep cover? Yes, Marty. I am.” “I had to extend myself to get you on the Task Force. There was concern. Both about the Manolo incident and what happened in Costa Morada. I need to know your head's in the game.” “It is.” Crockett leaned forward, trying to muster his thoughts. “Marty, I had time to think while I was gone. Just driving for part of it, but there was also plenty of time on the boat catching fish for Elvis. Time for a good, hard look. That's why I apologized to Stan. I know I screwed up and got Larry killed. By all rights you should just kick me out the door. But this is all I know, Marty. All I'm really good at.” “I know about Hackman.” “I...” “That tells me you have what it takes to do what needs doing. What hasto be done.” Castillo folded his hands, looking at a point somewhere above Crockett's shoulder. “I had my doubts when they came to me about this. I've been fighting this war a long time, Sonny. A verylong time. I had to sort out my own feelings about Lao Li, Menton, and other things. Part of why I came back to Miami was to have an impact here. Locally. To fix things. But we never had the tools. No one ever let us. Until now.” “What does that mean?” “We are a deep-cover unit. No one knows we're here. But we can tap resources up to and including the CIA or NSA. Working with the Marshals gives us international access and authority if we have to arrest someone overseas. DEA is providing intelligence and targeting. The rest is on us.” “Who does the arrests?” “If one is required, either DEA or the Marshals depending on the target. They may bring us in as well to preserve our cover.” Castillo looked up, freezing Crockett with his stare. “I need to know you're in this all the way.” “Of course, Marty.” Crockett nodded again, understanding finally what Castillo meant. “All the way. And the others?” “They are for their own reasons. Tubbs has his brother, Switek has Zito.” Castillo paused. “And Joplin has her little sister. Someone addicted her to heroin and turned her out. She died six months ago. From bad heroin.” He looked down, then fixed Crockett with his stare. “Understand this, though. If you slip you are out. Come to me if you need help, but don't try to play me. I will know, and you'll be through.” Back in the conference room Crockett felt their eyes on him as soon as the door closed. “It's ok. I'm in. Do the files have anything new?” “Plenty.” Tubbs flipped through pages. “Maynard's sitting at the top of a two-prong organization. On one side there's a Columbian chump named Tico Moncado who's running drugs in to earn the big bucks. The good colonel seems to keep clear of Tico's business unless he needs cash.” Stan chuckled then. “Which he needs lots of to pay for the other part of his little empire. Guns and mercs. Mostly guns, though. Man he deals with goes by the name Lester Holmes, though there's reason to think it ain't the name his mother gave him. Good ol' Lester runs a network of straw buyers up and down the coast and into Louisiana, but from time to time he gets military hardware from somewhere. My guess is Fort Polk or one of the Air Force bases, but no hard evidence yet.” Trudy took up the narrative, flipping toward the back of her file. “Tico does the transportation both in and out of the country. As near as our sources can determine, the guns end up in places like Nicaragua and El Salvador. Contras in the former, death squads in the latter. That's the business Maynard watches most.” “Isn't that the CIA's stomping grounds?” Crockett sat down hard, letting the reality of what he'd heard sink in. “Why would they want us to take out their guy?” “Maybe he's gone off the reservation again.” Tubbs grinned. “Wouldn't be the first time that fool decided to write his own rules. Besides, even if we don't get him...taking out this Moncado chump would screw up a lot of players. And I mean a lot.” TODAY Sonny watched without expression as two of Reno's men hauled the body away, leaving a smear of darkening blood on the plank boardwalk. He'd done what he had to do. The punk had stepped up on him, and Sonny Burnett would never take that sitting down. Never. It wasn't much of a loss. Crockett knew the punk from the files: a three-bit killer with at least ten narco hits to his credit and likely more random killings that never connected anywhere. It hurt, but not as much as he thought it might. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing. But this deep under a man couldn't complain or back out. Not with the deal on the line and Tubbs about to step on stage. He made a show of checking his watch. “Good timing, gents. Mr. Cooper should be here in under five minutes. The man does like to run on time.” Almost on cue, the big Caddy turned into a parking spot at the top of the pier. Even at this distance he recognized Tubbs by the sharp cut of his suit and the rings glittering on his fingers. Stuffing the big pistol into his shoulder rig, Crockett turned back to Reno. “The man is here. Better get ready to deal.” Tubbs came down the boardwalk at a fast strut, a black leather briefcase swinging in time from his left hand. He wasn't playing Island money this time, not in a tailored blue silk suit. He raised his hand, his voice rich with New York. “Mr. Burnett! My man! Tell me this isn't a waste of my time.” “Mr. Cooper, meet Reno. He's the one with the merchandise we discussed.” Tubbs turned slowly, letting distain flood into his voice. “We eat fish like this in the Bronx, Burnett. We don't talk to them.” Reno's face went red, a sharp contrast to his light hair and eyes. “I can assure you I ain't wastin' your time, Mr. Cooper.” “Can you? Really?” Tubbs looked him up and down, and Crockett fought to keep a straight face. “I don't see much from where I'm standing. Burnett here tells me you can get product that's eighty percent pure for five gs a kilo under the going rate. Is that fact, or did you lie to him?” “I hope you didn't lie for your sake, Reno. I don't like lies.” Crockett allowed himself a thin, lopsided smile. “I like them less than I do punks who come up on me. And I just shot one of them.” “No lies. We can get eighty percent pure no problem. As much as you need. That's our problem. We got too much. Market here can only handle so much Bolivian flake an' we...” “You got no connections outside of Miami. Solid. I got the Bronx and ties to the rest of New York City and points north and west.” “I know. We checked.” “Sure you did. Just like my people checked you.” Tubbs grinned again. “How do you know Burnett here?” “He's handled transportation for me many times. Always reliable and doesn't need someone to hold his hand.” “Same reason you need me, Reno. Your boys can't move squat outside of the Metro Dade area. Too slow and too many known faces. Me? I keep it quiet and discrete. Land, air, or sea. I may not reach to New York City, but I can get it close enough for Cooper's people to take over.” Reno motioned them to a table shaded by a cloth umbrella that flapped like a woman's skirt with each breath of breeze. “How much weight can your people handle, Cooper?” “How much can you get in?” “I like a man who thinks big.” “This is startin' to sound like you jerking me around, chump.” Tubbs gave a darker version of his grin. “I don't like bein' jerked around.” “Ok. Ok. Jeeze...you New Yorkers are always in a hurry, ain't you? We can move at least three hundred Ks a week on top of what we distribute down here. Maybe up to six if it moves quick. We can't sit on it for long.” Tubbs turned to Sonny. “Can you move that much weight, Burnett?” “In my sleep. As many routes as you need. Air will cost more, but trucks and boats are no problem.” He turned to look at Reno through his Wayfarers. “Details are not your problem. My people can make the pick up any time and any place that works. After that it's not your problem.” “Security?” Reno waved his hand toward the knot of men by the boat shed. “I can get twice that many if you need them.” Crockett snorted. “Security's your problem until I take possession. After that it's on me.” He looked pointedly at the dark smear on the boards. “I think I got that part down, don't you?” “One of my people will be there for the first couple of loads. Just to make sure things are solid.” Tubbs sat the briefcase down on the cafe table with a thud. Made from alligator skin, it cost more than he made in a week. The locks snapped open under his thumbs. “Good faith money. For that sample you provided. Twenty-five grand. That's what we pay for each kilo. Wire transfers to the offshore business establishment of your choice.” He snapped the case shut just as Reno reached over. “Next time I want to meet your boss.” “This is my...” “No. It isn't. The people I'm fronting would feel better if I laid eyes on the prize. We do one shipment to see how things go. Then I meet the main man.” Tubbs opened the case again, letting the man stare at the money like a kid seeing his first stripper before dropping the stacks of bills into a gym bag one of the goons brought over. “And for this kind of transaction we should have a drink to celebrate the solution to both our problems.” Crockett shifted. “If you two ladies are done dancing I'll be on my way. Got some arrangements to sort out before the first shipment. Get me the time and place at this number.” He handed Reno a card with a number written on it. “Hits my pager and I call you back. Can't be too careful after what happened to the Mendozas last year.” They met in a dark club on the edge of Miami; a place where the music was loud, the lights dim, and no one asked questions about anything. Crockett sat at a back table, a glass of Black Jack resting in the tight pool of light thrown by a hanging lamp. He wasn't worried. If anyone followed him or Tubbs it wouldn't seem unusual for a big buyer to be meeting with his transportation and security contractor. The politics of contraband demanded it. The familiar phrase brought a smile to his eyes as he thought it. I wonder what Jimmy ever got up to? “Figured I'd find you in the back working on your tan.” Tubbs slid into the open chair, a tall drink topped with a plastic sword impaling mixed fruit in his hand. “What's your take on Reno? Aside from the fact the chump drinks bad tequila.” “Lightweight. He almost pissed himself when I dropped his guard.” Crockett found his own thin smile. “Guess that's what the lieutenant wondered when he asked if I was ready to go back in as Burnett.” “Just keep it real, partner. That's all I ask.” “I'm solid.” Sonny looked down at the dark amber liquid in his glass. “Burnett's part of me. Guess he always has been. But I know where the line is.” He took a drink, feeling the bourbon trace its warm line down his throat. “Guess I always envied how you could switch from Brooklyn badass to island man like someone flipping a damned switch.” “Cooper's closer to home. The New York Cooper at least.” Tubbs sipped his own drink and winced. “You think they'd get the vodka from something other than an unwashed bathtub at least once.” “Yeah. How many runs do you think it will take to draw Tico out?” “Two. Maybe three. That talk about next time was for show. Depends on how hard we push. You think the buy money will hold out?” “Controlled wire transfers? I'd say so. And then the Feds will storm in and take the banks down for money laundering.” Crockett smiled. “Everybody wins.” “Until they don't.” Tubbs took another drink. “Feels strange working for the Feds, though.” “I'd say with the Feds, not for them. Marty made it pretty damned clear we only answered to him.” Crockett leaned forward and lowered his voice even more, even though it would take a small miracle for anyone to eavesdrop with the way “Bad to the Bone” was vibrating the bar's walls and foundation. “What I want to know is how he set it up.” “Castillo knows where ALL the bodies are buried, my man.” Tubbs laughed. “Hell, he probably helped them bury Hoffa and spotted for the guy on the grassy knoll. I know while we were gone something changed with him, though. Stan said he got colder. Harder.” “I didn't think that was possible.” “Neither did I. But Stan said it was big. And bad. Said he almost put an FBI goof in a pine box. 'Like he did to Menton, but worse' is what Stan said.” “Damn. I would have paid to see that. I still wonder what the hell happened.” “Does it matter? We've got a green light now. I'd say we have another drink and celebrate.” “Good plan, partner. That way if anyone's watching you're just closing the deal with your transportation and security man.” “Sonny, I gotta ask. How does it feel being Burnett again?” Crockett sighed, taking a deep drink of Jack. “I don't know. Good in some ways. There's an edge to the guy that takes me back to Nam. But in others...it's something I didn't know was in me until the job brought it out. Like I said before, he's part of me.” “I had a cover like that once. Back in New York when I was with Armed Robbery. We had a crew workin' the Bronx and couldn't buy a break. So I went under as Marcus Jefferson.” Tubbs laughed. “Yeah, our name guys were a bunch of peckerwoods. Best they could do. Anyhow, ol' Marcus was a bad-ass from way back. Rap sheet longer than...well..you get the idea. I got in with the crew by beating the crap out of one of their opposition's wheel men. And his minder.” “So they wrote you up as a bad ass right out of 'Shaft' or something?” Tubbs laughed again. “More or less. But it brought out something in me. I could look at those cats and just see which one would break and which one wouldn't. And the anger...as a cop you have to turn it off. Marcus didn't have to.” “Yeah.” Crockett stared down into his empty glass. “Let me tell you, Rico. The trick is being able to turn that cover off again. After Caitlin and the explosion...Burnett got stuck in 'on'. And I mean full on. I still don't remember much of it, but reading back through those files... He was someone I wouldn't want to have taken on.” “But you were still in there. I knew that when you didn't take that shot at me. Your cracker ass still scared the hell out of me, but that's when I knew what was up.” Nodding, Crockett gathered up the empty glasses. “It's time for another round, Rico.” It was dark in the office except for dancing beams of neon and moonlight making their way through the window glass. Martin Castillo sat in his chair, looking out the window and letting his thoughts carry him. Still, he noticed when the door opened. “Yes?” Trudy Joplin's voice was low. “Sonny took out one of Reno's guards at the meeting. I think they got the message.” She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. “Stan got part of it on the parabolic, but there was too much wind.” “That's not a problem. We don't need Reno. We need Tico. But both our men are in. Have Stan pull his net back.” “Will do.” Still, Castillo could sense her standing there in the darkness. The scent of her perfume filled his nose. “Lieutenant. I...” “I know about your sister. And I'm sorry. That's why I asked you to join the Task Force. To give you a chance.” “A chance?” “To make things right.” Castillo turned away from the window, seeing her slender form etched gold from the moonlight. “I came to Miami to make a difference. Too many things, too many agencies, got in the way. Now we don't have to worry about that. After Costa Morada I knew there had to be another way. So I found one. A pure way. The drugs that killed your sister were part of a shipment Tico Moncado's group brought in. We won't just arrest that group. We will smash it.” He could see tears shining like diamonds in the corners of her eyes. “Why me?” “Because you're a tough cop who wants to make a difference. And now you can.” He stopped, then spoke again, lower this time. “You're not alone anymore. I've always known you could do more than bust pimps and follow hookers, and now you get that chance. You're one of the smartest detectives I've ever known, and your heart won't let you quit.” Just like mine doesn't let me walk away. She walked over to the desk. Martin knew what was coming. Every cell of his rational mind told him to stop. To have her leave. Remembering what had happened in Thailand and followed him here. But his heart said no. And years gone now, in those high Cuban mountains between the towering green trees, he'd learned to follow his heart. And Trudy was no May Ying. She was strong. Maybe stronger than he was. “I've been alone since I ended it with David. The first time, not when we arrested him. The team became my family, and then it fell apart, too. But you were always there. I don't know what I'd do without you. Or where I'd be without you. You're not alone anymore either, Martin. So long as I'm alive you never will be alone.” “We shouldn't do this.” “What is it you always told me? Follow your heart. Is that your heart's answer?” “No.” With that single, clipped word Martin Castillo sealed his fate. No, he thought as he stood and took Trudy in his arms, feeling her press warm against him. Ended a chapter. And started a better one. For both of us. Her hair tickled his nose and chin, and the only thing he could smell was her perfume. When they finally kissed his soul slid in line with his heart and joined with hers, bathed and almost consecrated in the gold Miami moon. It was dark out by the big docks, towering shadows cast by container ships blocking most of the light. Here and there warehouse lights burned as crews shifted rusting steel containers, forklifts and curses doing the job in equal measure. No one noticed the battered old van parked among an assortment of panel trucks and step vans in one of the many parking lots that circled the docks like rusty necklaces. Stan Switek could feel the sweat trickling down his sides and soaking the back of his red and blue Hawaiian shirt. The surveillance gear heated the back of the van better than a fireplace, but there was no way he could run any air conditioning. He'd need to shut some of it down soon just to keep it from burning itself up, but the job was almost done for the night anyhow. A few minutes more and he'd be on his way. Adjusting the frequency dial a hair, he punched the recorder as soon as the voices came through clear. Moncado's men didn't spend much time on the line, but when they did it was pure gold. And the more he could gather, the better the Task Force could target. It was important work, and Stan was damned glad he was able to be a part of it. He knew better than the others how lucky he was to be here. Only Crockett had dodged a bigger bullet, and the apology in the conference room had done much to bury Stan's anger. He wasn't sure if he fully trusted his fellow detective yet, but he was starting to forgive him. That, he decided as the tape rolled silently from one reel to the other, was something. But it wasn't just that. Castillo had taken him into the office before Crockett and Tubbs returned, asking if his gambling was well and truly finished. The man just sat there, a master of silence and shadow, before speaking. “If it isn't, you will be off this task force and working as a crossing guard.” “It's over, lieutenant. I've been going to meetings, and a friend is helping, too.” He didn't mention the friend was Gina, though he figured Castillo already knew. Somehow the man knew everything about his people. “Good. If you start to slip, come to me. I will help so long as you're honest. The second you aren't, you're finished.” He fixed Stan with the famous stare for almost a minute before looking down at the folder on his desk. “Now get to work.” Getting to work was something Stan understood, even if sometimes the rest of the team didn't seem to grasp what he did. He could run the streets with them when needed, but he was best right in the back of the Bug Van, spinning the dials and gathering the intel they needed to be effective. Castillo had helped him understand that, and gave him the time and space to become unmatched in his trade. Classes at Quantico, time with the NSA and CIA. Anything. Even Lester was in awe of what he could do now. The conversation ended with a click, and Stan shut off the tape. Checking a small monitor he could see a car pulling away from one of the unlit warehouses and knew his night was over. Tico's lieutenant was done with his checks. All that was left was to change the tapes in some of the voice-activated taps he had in place and Stan could punch out for the day. Gathering a handful of cassettes, he systematically powered down all the gear in the back of the van before opening the door and stepping out into the relatively cool Miami night. Pulling on a set of lineman's coveralls he started on what he called his rounds. Ten minutes later he was back, full tapes in a bag, and drove the van off into the night. Unlike Crockett and his boat or Tubbs with his new rooftop condo, Stan Switek had a simple but comfortable apartment in one of the newer complexes clinging to the edges of the city. Also unlike them, he didn't live alone. Not anymore, at least. He locked the Bug Van, setting the alarms out of habit, then trudged up the stairs to his second floor walk-up. Gina was still awake. Waiting for him. She sat on the couch, a glass of red wine on the low table in front of her. Turning, she smiled when he walked through the door. “How did it go?” “They never knew I was there.” Cracking his own grin, Stan pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down next to Gina. “I'll have to wash those damned coveralls again, and maybe wire a fan in the back of the van. It's like a sweat house in there.” He pulled the tab on the beer and drank, feeling the cold liquid loosen the back of his throat. “How was your day?” “Good. I think we finally convinced Tina to get off the streets for good.” She smiled, and Stan loved how her smile always lit up her eyes like matching chocolate diamonds. “I got her a spot in Rita's halfway house. And a nice line on a job.” She sighed. “Hopefully it's enough.” “So do I.” Stan rested his hand on her shoulder, knowing she'd spent two months trying to convince the girl to leave the life. “And in news you won't believe, Crockett actually apologized about Larry today.” “He did? Really?” “Yeah. And he meant it.” Stan smiled. “I mean he really meant it, not Castillo told him to mean it.” “So you two can...” “Yeah. I can work with him now. Like we used to.” Stan took another sip of beer. “He looks...different now. Same guy, but something's changed.” “It's about time.” Gina took a sip of her wine, and then grabbed Stan's free hand. “I'm over him, Stan. Reallyover him. It was a nice dream for a girl, I guess, but that's all it was. A dream. I think I always knew that, but when he and Rico left I was sure. It helped me see what's important, and who I really care about. I don't ever want to go back to that. Any of it.” “Have you talked to Trudy lately?” “I tried. She's not returning my calls.” Gina drained her glass and refilled it from the bottle on the table. “Can't say I blame her, since I'm the one who told her about her sister.” “She'll call. I know it.” Stan pulled Gina close, feeling her press against him. “Sorry...the shirt's still sweaty from the van.” “It's fine, Stan. It's you I want to be next to, not the shirt.” Stan drank more beer, turning his next words over in his head. “She asked about you at the task force meeting today. Didn't know you'd moved to victim services. I think you'll hear from her soon.” He thought back to finding Larry in that shower, the needle still hanging out of his arm. “Those things take time to work through.” He drank again, draining the beer. “Lots of time,” he repeated, his voice trailing off. “I'm sorry.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I miss Larry, too. I shouldn't have...” “It's ok. It's just...” He struggled for words. Things always sounded so much better before he actually said them. “I know how she feels. She doesn't blame you, but it's still too close for her. Once it fades a bit she'll reach out.” “Thank you.” She kissed him then, and he tasted the tart red wine on her lips and tongue. “How did I miss you were so sweet?” “It's the shirts. They blind people to my better side.” Stan still wasn't sure how it had happened. How things had fallen into place like this. But he wasn't about to question it. “We've both lost so much. At least we won't lose each other.” She kissed him again. “I have to get up in the morning. Maybe you'd better put me to bed.” One thing Sonny Crockett appreciated about the St. Vitus Dancewas it never changed. In all the years he'd worked undercover it always waited for him, quiet and without judgement. “It's just me, boy,” he whispered to Elvis as he stepped on deck, knowing the alligator was snuffling around somewhere. It was never a good idea to sneak up on Elvis, as more than a few would-be burglars had learned to their regret. Once belowdecks he turned on a single light in the saloon and shrugged off his suit coat. Burnett's look was dark, which also made it hot about any time of the year in Miami. He thought about pouring another Black Jack, but changed his mind. The four at the club were plenty, especially since he wanted to think. He and Tubbs were moving like they always had, playing off each other's cover and making waves in any organization they got near. It felt strange not seeing Gina around, but from what he could tell Trudy and Stan worked damned well together. Besides, he knew deep down he had nothing left to say to Gina. Nothing left to give. He hadn't been kidding when he told Castillo the job was his life. That was one thing the whole Burnett episode had taught him. With Caitlin gone, both sides of the Job were all he had left. Taking out a wooden case, Crockett went about cleaning the Smith & Wesson, ejecting the magazine and the live round in the chamber first. The ritual was familiar, grounding him in this time and place better than anything else he could do. What was it he'd heard years gone? “A craftsman's only as good as his tools,” he whispered into the night, answering his own question. And those tools had to be maintained. Once he finished he reloaded the big pistol, jacking a round into the chamber and flicking down the safety to drop the hammer. A few hours sleep, he figured, would do him good before the next act in the task force's drama. Before turning off the light he reached up and touched the ring he wore on a chain around his neck. The wedding ring Caitlin had given him. His only remaining connection to a world now closed to him. Ricardo Tubbs stood on the penthouse's balcony, looking out over the yellow and neon landscape that was Miami. “Sure as hell ain't New York City,” he muttered, looking down at the melting ice cubes in his glass of scotch. “But it'll do.” Some nights he missed the city of his birth. The honking cars, brilliant lights, and hulking skeletons of urban life. The glare of Times Square or Broadway set against empty brownstones back in the Bronx given over to decay and drug houses. There was a speed, an energy to it he'd never found down among the neon and extravagant dreams making Miami. But there was nothing in New York for him now. Hadn't been for several years if he was being honest about it. Even Valerie had turned out to be a lie. The scotch burned a familiar trail down his throat. He had to give Castillo credit. The man had put something together stronger than he'd ever imagined possible. So long as the brass didn't screw them, Tubbs figured this task force could take down damn near anything it was sent after. And this time he didn't think anyone would try to screw them...there was an edge to Castillo he'd never seen before. Like the man had been pushed far enough and said “no mas.” It was the same look he'd seen when Menton tried to threaten Castillo, only deeper and stronger. Even though he knew the penthouse was part of Cooper's cover, Tubbs was glad to get out of another in a string of crappy apartments. It was nice to have room to breathe, to sit without hearing someone else's music or fight bleeding through paper-thin walls. Like the home he'd never had but always saw on TV when he wasn't out playing stickball or football with his older brother Raphael. “Finally got that deluxe apartment in the sky,” he muttered, echoing the old show theme. “Not the way I'd planned it, but it'll do.” He shifted, feeling the familiar weight of his revolver on his hip. It had been good to get the badge back, too. Being a cop defined him in ways he hadn't understood or realized until he dropped that badge in front of Castillo and tried to walk away. Rafael had warned him about that, too. “You marry that badge when you put it on, little brother,” he'd said when Ricardo signed up for the academy. “Not right away. But in five, ten years you won't know what to do without it.” But that wasn't what bothered him. Not what brought him out to stare at the neon fading into the distant ocean. It was Sonny. Tubbs worried about his partner more than he cared to admit, and since the whole Burnett episode he'd been extra-careful. He'd known about Sonny's identification with his cover since Artie Rollins, and had only seen it grow stronger over the years. Sonny said he knew the difference; said he was positive he could keep the two apart. But Tubbs wasn't sure. Not as sure as he wanted to be. Ice cubes clinked against glass as he sipped more scotch, listening to the sounds of the city below. That was one of the joys of playing the money man: Rico Cooper just had to strut on stage, wave his money around, and strut off again. It would be different now with this task force. Tubbs would be under longer, setting up deals on his own and bringing Sonny in as support instead of how they'd done it back with OCB. The danger was getting too used to Cooper's money, his flash. Cooper wasn't scripted to be a violent man...that's what he brought Burnett in for. But lurking in the back was good old Marcus. Waiting for Tubbs to tap him in if needed. Castillo had called him in, too. Right after he'd gotten back to Miami. “I need to know if you still have that anger,” the lieutenant had asked, sitting behind his desk in the dark office. “The anger you had when your brother was murdered, when you lost Angelina.” “Yes. I do. Is that a problem?” “No. It would be if you didn't have that anger.” Castillo looked down then, his eyes partly closed. “This task force will make you use that anger. You'll need it to get things done. But you also need to control it. If you start having problems, come to me. If you hide anything, I'll know. And you'll be off the task force.” “Copy that, lieutenant. You don't have to worry about me.” “I know. And Rico...help your partner, too.” Help Sonny...now that's a trick. Tubbs knew Sonny was Southern white proud, too stubborn to say anything was wrong even if his feel were nailed to the floor with railroad spikes. At least he'd finally apologized to Switek. That was something, and a move long overdue. The scotch was gone, so Rico sucked an ice cube and turned toward the door. “The Job is what it is,” he muttered, leaving the empty glass on a low table before heading for his bedroom. “More wisdom from Raphael. Something else he was right about. Damn. I miss you, brother.” “What have we got?” “We're in with Reno.” Crockett nursed a styrofoam cup of coffee, looking down at the briefing materials Stan had passed out. “Tubbs laid it out there about meeting the boss, and Reno's anxious enough to move the weight he bought it. Now I'm just waiting for my pager to buzz.” Stan nodded. “I got part of that on one of the taps. Reno sounded like he'd done half a key of his own product he was talking so fast.” “Who was on the other end?” Castillo shifted his own papers, finding a sheet with a line diagram of what DEA thought was the Moncado network. Already the task force had corrected one layer. “Not Tico. Reno kept lapsing into bad speed Spanish and didn't use names. For my money he was talking to Carlos Pedrosa.” “Pedrosa?” Trudy leaned in, her thin dress top pulling tight across her breasts. “Who's he?” Stan flipped through the papers, and Crockett noticed Castillo looking at Trudy with what almost looked like a knowing smile. It died one second after it was born, but the memory lingered. What the hell did I just see?With effort he focused on what Stan was saying. “...and he's just come up on the radar. DEA didn't even have him as part of the Moncado group. Not much traffic on him, but I'd say he's insulation.” “What?” Tubbs asked the question around his own cup of coffee. “He keeps Tico from having to deal with local issues. They go to Carlos and then he takes it to Tico if it seems big enough.” Stan chuckled, flipping through his notes. “We ain't quite big enough yet.” “But Carlos is a way in?” Trudy leaned back, looking from Stan to Castillo and ignoring the other two detectives. “That's above my pay grade. I just listen to 'em though the walls and peek in the windows.” “Yes.” Castillo spoke with authority. “He is. There's no one between Carlos Pedrosa and Tico Moncado. Detective Switek's analysis is correct. Personally I think Pedrosa is responsible for South Florida, and there's another one or two people like him dealing with other territories, but we don't know for sure. Or care. DEA can connect those dots. Pedrosa is our way in.” “I'll work with Stan, lieutenant. See if we can figure out who the other bosses are.” Trudy smiled. “That's what you sent me to Quantico and Langley to learn to do. Analysis.” “Thank you. For now that's our best bet. Joplin and Switek, I want a better map of the Moncado organization. Tubbs, you and Crockett keep working Reno. We've got the money set so it can be used to take down the banks they want it sent to, and any drugs you run will be seized further up the pipeline.” “Yeah. Moncado don't care where it goes or what happens to it once it's paid for.” Tubbs flipped through the papers, pausing once or twice to quickly read some of the notes. Crockett nodded, his gaze flicking from Trudy to the lieutenant and back again. They had that look about them. He remembered seeing it in himself when he looked at Caitlin. I'll be damned. Hell, they both deserve it. Trudy's had a hard life and Marty...he never seems to catch a break.Gathering up the papers, he stuffed them back into the folder and closed it with a snap. “We'd best get moving, Rico. Maybe we can shake some word loose on the street about Reno and this Carlos character.” Neither man spoke until they were in the elevator riding down to the building's underground garage. Tubbs turned to Crockett and almost giggled. “Did you see the way the lieutenant and Trudy were lookin' at each other?” “Yeah. Good for them I say.” Crockett slid on his Wayfarers to hide the memories building in his eyes. “Trudy's a damned good lady, and Marty...” “Man's been through three lifetimes of hurt, you ask me. I'm right there with you, partner. Good for them.” “Speaking of which, when are you gonna find a lady, Rico? And don't feed me crap about Valerie.” “No. That one's done and buried.” Tubbs chuckled, then his face hardened. “After Angelina...” “Sorry, man. Didn't mean to bring up bad memories.” “It's all good, Sonny. All good.” Tubbs smiled. “I need a lady, I find a lady. That's how this cat prowls.” Sonny laughed with him. “Yeah, I hear you.” “What about you?” “Me? Hell, I had my shots. Two of 'em. One not so good, and the other...well...who knows where it would have gone. Now it's me and drinks under the stars with Elvis.” Before Tubbs could reply the elevator lurched to a halt and the doors rattled open. “Our ride awaits. Yours or mine?” “The Ferrari. Better air conditioning. It's too damned hot out there already.” “Who you want to work over?” “No one in particular. Maybe shake a few trees and see what falls out. We gotta be careful, though.” Crockett paused as he slid into the low-slung Testarosa and started it up, smiling at the engine's familiar growl. “We already got a buy lined up with Reno. We shake the wrong tree, we wreck the deal. Then the whole thing goes south.” “I hate to say this, but why don't we try Noogie or Izzy? Those two fools hear plenty, and they're not going to wreck any deal. Hell, neither of 'em move product themselves.” “Great minds think alike, Tubbs. I was thinkin' the same thing. Let's start with Noogie. I don't feel like beating the pavement looking under rocks for Izzy. Ten to one Noogie's still working that strip club.” The doorman at Rizzo's looked from Crockett to Tubbs and back again, his face screwed up in a question. “Ain't you two heard?” “Heard what, my man?” Tubbs shook his head. “We've been out of town. Business.” “Noogie ain't here no more.” “Where'd he move to?” “You don't get it, man. He ain't here no more. He's dead.” “What?” Crockett felt like someone had punched him in the kidneys. Noogie was annoying as hell, but he'd always seemed indestructible. “How?” “He and his woman had some kinda fight. Hear he caught her goin' ten rounds on her back with Brutus the mid-shift bouncer. He took it hard. Way I heard it he tried some smack to take the edge off. It killed him dead.” The doorman sniffled, rubbing at his nose with a stubby finger. “Just dead. Music ain't been the same since. No one could spin that wax like the Noog-man.” “When?” “Six weeks yesterday. Club gave him a damned fine funeral. An' if you're lookin' for that wife you won't find her here. Six of the girls jumped her and kicked the job out of her boobs before they sent her packin'.” “Thanks.” Crockett reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Buy the girls some drinks for us in Noogie's name, ok?” Walking back to the car, Tubbs shook his head. “That's about the same time Stan said Trudy's sister ODd. Sounds like someone moved a bad batch.” “Or unloaded it on purpose.” Crockett started the car, still working through it all. “The little chump annoyed the hell out of me, but it just doesn't seem right he's gone. He was like a rash that never cleared up, but he did have his uses.” “That was while we were gone.” Crockett eased the Ferrari into gear and shot into a gap in the traffic. “Maybe Stan will have a line on Izzy. I'd wager that little pest went right underground as soon as he heard Noogie died.” “I'll reach out and touch.” Tubbs activated the car phone as Crockett navigated the early morning traffic, taking them deeper into Miami. “Stan! You got a line on Izzy? Yeah, we just learned Noogie's dead. Got taken out by that same brown that killed Trudy's sister. Really? Solid. Let me know.” “Now that was a whole lot of nothing. What did he say?” Tubbs slotted the phone back in its case with a snort. “He hasn't seen Izzy for a couple of weeks. Last he heard the little chump was still working the cons down in those old beachfront hotels, but he didn't seem last time he went through. I think you were right, partner. The little chump's gone into hiding.” Crockett snarled, whipping the Ferrari around a taxi. “Move it! Well, if we can't find him, maybe we can get a line on that heroin. We know of two people it's killed so far. Maybe there's more. And where did it come from? Castillo said something about it coming in with Moncado's stuff, but Maynard swore off heroin as far as I know after that whole body bag thing. Maybe Moncado's playing the field.” “Or someone in his cartel is. Maybe Reno or this Carlos cat.” Grinning, Tubbs pulled out the phone again. “I'll let the lieutenant know what we're thinking.” It was late afternoon before Sonny Crockett eased the Ferrari into its spot in the cool shadows of the underground garage. There'd been no trace of Izzy in his usual haunts, and the doorman back at Rizzo's hadn't seen him since Noogie's wake. “We put his ashes in the pole, you know,” the big man had said with a sad smile. “It's what he wanted.” Tubbs was still talking about it. “Man, just think. If that pole comes loose, some girl's gonna be wearing Noogie. And I mean WEARING Noogie. He'll be going places no man has gone before and places a lot of men have gone before.” “Maybe that's what the little freak wanted.” Crockett hooked his sunglasses in the collar of his sea green shirt and stepped out of the car. “Now let's get upstairs and see if anything's dropped. And my damned pager hasn't gone off yet. Maybe Reno got cold feet.” “That chump better not have.” Tubbs tugged at the lapels of his pinstripe suit coat. “I'd hate to slap him upside his fool head if he did.” The tenth floor was quiet and almost empty as the other offices emptied for the day. In a bland building with bland businesses, Crockett wondered how many were like theirs – fronting something else. 'RG Consulting' could be anything: a collective of engineers, ad people, drug runners, a low-key escort agency. Anything. He was sure Castillo had checked everyone on their floor, the floor above, and the one below. But he still wondered. Tubbs lead the way, opening the door with his key and heading through the reception area to the conference room. Stan sat at the table, his habitual Hawaiian shirt open four buttons down from the collar, his attention focused on an array of pictures fanned out in front of him. Trudy was nowhere to be seen, and the door to Castillo's office was open. “Got anything new for us?” Crockett helped himself to coffee from the pot in the corner and sat down, bringing a cup for Tubbs. “Trudy's out chasing down a lead on Izzy. Or more like someone who might know where Izzy is. That freak cousin of his. Manny something or another.” Stan swept the photos into a single pile. “Still trying to put faces with names. Or faces with voices, depending. Anyone ever tell these clowns they need nametags?” “I think you've got something with that heroin.” Castillo walked out of his office, his face grimmer than usual. “Metro-Dade has traced at least fifteen OD deaths to that batch, starting six weeks ago and ending two weeks later.” “Sounds like someone pulled it off the street once they realized it was too bad to unload.” Crockett sipped at the coffee. It was strong and hot, clearing the cobwebs from his head. “That's what they think, but it's nothing they can prove.” “Do they have any idea about the source?” “No, but DEA does. One of their informants says it's someone new to the heroin trade. Someone greedy who doesn't know how to cut properly. It was what they cut it with that caused the deaths.” “DEA have a name to go with this little whisper?” “No.” Castillo sat down, folding his hands in front of him. “But Naval Intelligence picked up some chatter while they were monitoring Cuban naval frequencies. The same night the heroin came in. A name came up more than once. Reno.” Crockett slammed his hand down on the table. “I knew it! And Maynard would feel him his balls for breakfast if he knew about it. He swore off heroin after that little fiasco with Stone.” “More likely the Company warned him off.” Castillo drummed his index finger on the table. “Their new clients prefer to move cocaine. Either way he's not going to want them angry with him.” Tubbs shook his head. “Same old show, then. Only the names on the program change.” “But it gives us a weakness to exploit.” Crockett leaned back, thoughts swirling and combining in his head. “We need to find out if this Pedrosa knows anything about Reno's little side trade. If he does, it's good money that Moncado doesn't. If Pedrosa ain't in on it, Reno might be out of career options like yesterday.” Castillo nodded. “Run it down. But stay low. Stan, keep your ears open for chatter from Reno about any side deals. If's he's moved heroin once on his own, chances are he's moved something else. We weren't looking for it before. Look for it now.” “Got it, lieutenant. I'll listen for Izzy, too.” “Let's hit the streets, Rico. Mr. Cooper might be looking to diversify his operations.” They'd been gone for almost eight months, but not much had changed in the drug game. Some of the names, maybe, but not the game itself. But some of the names that changed... “I still can't believe that little freakazoid is gone.” Crockett changed lanes, heading downtown. “He'd been around since we took down that psycho Desmond Maxwell. Hard to believe he lived through that and everything else only to go down because of some bad dope.” “Yeah. Like I said before...he grew on you. Like a rash or some kind of fungus.” Tubbs looked out the window at the cars they passed. “You ever wonder if these fools appreciate what we do for them?” “No. Not anymore.” Crockett downshifted and powered past a purple Corvette decked out like some dentist's midlife crisis antidote gone horribly wrong. “I learned in Nam most people don't pay attention to what you're doing for them. Oh, back when I was uniform I hoped they'd notice. But once you go under, that dream dies.” “Yeah.” Tubbs was silent for a few more minutes. “When did you know you'd come back?” “Probably the same time you did. It was great at first. Hell, just sit back and watch the girls in bikinis walk by. Then I got bored. And then I started thinking.” “I hear you, partner.” Tubbs laughed. “I was on my third run up the coast when I knew I couldn't stay away. And that's when Castillo called. Like he knew or something.” “Hell, he did know.” Crockett grinned, turning off the wide avenue onto one of Miami's side arteries. “Martin Castillo knows everything. He's tried to walk away more times that we've thought about it, I'd guess.” He swung the Ferrari to the curb. “We'll start here and work our way up the food chain.” It was dark and cool inside the club, the music just loud enough to mess with surveillance gear but low enough to allow easy talk of business. Each table had a clear view of the door, and the bar mirror allowed the same. Most of the tables were empty, and only a handful of men clustered at the far end of the bar. “We must be early for the party,” Crockett muttered as they stepped to the bar. “Don't be too sure. That chump in the pink tux shirt is Nicky Fuentes. About two rungs above a street corner dealer last time I saw him.” “Black Jack, neat.” Crockett snarled his order at the greasy bartender. “Mr. Cooper will have scotch on the rocks.” Once the man turned away he sidelined a glance down the bar. “Don't know him, but the one in the Sears jacket used to break legs for Little Mike Torres.” “Didn't we send him up three years ago?” “Yep. Guess ol' Freddy there had to find new work. How well do you know Nicky?” “I don't. He was on the edges of the Mendozas before we took them out. He's heard of Cooper, but we never met. I saw him at one or two of the buy meets.” Crockett nodded, examining his bourbon with an experienced eye. “They sure as hell started lookin' us over. Let's see if they take the bait.” Five minutes later Nicky sauntered up the bar, looking like a junior high punk trying to look tough. “Cooper, ain't it?” His voice had a high whine, and Crockett wanted to punch him in the throat just to make it stop. Tubbs made a show of turning slowly, looking Nicky up and down like something he'd found on the sole of his shoe and couldn't identify. “Any reason I should tell you?” “Hey, man! It's me! Nicky! I used to work for the Mendoza brothers.” “Guess even they needed pool boys.” The man in the Sears jacket started to move when Crockett leaned back from the bar. “Better tell your boy there to stay put, pal. Unless he wants to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” Nicky looked at Crockett, seeing only Burnett in his eyes. Then he raised his hand. “Take it easy, Freddy. Can't blame a man for bein' careful. It's only professional. And from what I hear, you don't want to make Mr. Burnett angry.” Freddy stopped, and even in the weak light Crockett could see the color draining from the big man's face. “No sir, Mr. Burnett. Sorry to bother you. I'll have a seat until you gents are done.” Tubbs grinned. “Now that we all know each other, maybe you can tell me why you interrupted my drink.” “Business, my man. Only reason anyone comes to the dump. It sure ain't for his company.” Nicky tried to glare tough at the bartender and failed. “Do tell. I'm heading back to New York soon. What business do you have I can't do there?” “I like a man who gets right to the point. Quality is the name of the game, my man. I can set you up with quality like you can't believe.” “What are we talking?” Tubbs leaned over, fixing Nicky with his best Cooper dark stare. “Coke, H, high-end Jamaican weed. Crack if you want it, but the money ain't there.” “I've been hearing bad things about heroin in Miami. Calling that quality is like bottling sewer water and selling it as Perrier.” “No, Cooper! It ain't like that. That was one shipment, and the seller got it off the market as fast as he could. His new batch is primo. Southeast Asia's finest, not that Mex crap.” “I don't want to see your sample case, Nicky. My people will want volume.” “But it's try before you buy, Cooper. Confirm the quality and then we up quantity.” Sonny slammed his empty glass down on the bar. “What part of this don't you understand, Nicky boy? Mr. Cooper here ain't some nickle-and-dime weekend hustler from Boca. His time is big money, and unless you've moved up from errand boy you ain't got that kind of money, pal.” That pulled Freddy off his chair. “You can't talk to Mr. Fuentes that...” Crockett turned, feeling himself slide effortlessly into Burnett's skin. He swung low, his fist connecting with the full force of his shoulder behind it. Grabbing a gasping Freddy by the shoulder, he guided him back to a chair. “I said sit down, Freddy. And stay this time.” Freddy groaned, then gagged, doubling over and clutching his midsection. Turning, Crockett swept his cold Burnett gaze over the club. “Anyone else feeling squirrely? Didn't think so.” Leaning over, he pulled a cocked and locked .45 out of Freddy's waistband. “I'll just hang onto this so you don't hurt yourself.” “Burnett doesn't waste any time getting down to it.” Tubbs chuckled. “And what he says is true. My time ismoney. And the more of one you waste, the less of the other you get.” “Ok...Ok...I get it.” Nicky raised his hands, fighting to avoid looking at either Crockett or Freddy. “Thing is, I don't carry the high-grade on me. Not to a dump like this. And weight's another...how much weight are we talking?” “I don't need your blow. Or the weed. Or the whole damned back aisle of Walgreen's. H, on the other hand, is something my partners might be interested in. How much weight can you handle?” “That depends...” Crockett fought back a grin as Tubbs slammed his hand on the bar. “Don't play games with me, chump! Your price just dropped.” “No, really, Mr. Cooper. I ain't playin' games.” Nicky raised his arms, palms open wide. “Please. No games. Normally I move small stuff. A few ounces, no more than a kilo at a time. I can get more, sure, but it takes time.” Tubbs patted the man's sweat-dappled cheek like he was dealing with a petulant child. “Sure, Nicky. But a kilo works fine for starters. For quality testing. But if my partners agree, we'd need a hundred more.” Nicky's face was as white as high-grade Peruvian flake. “A...a hundred keys?” “If it's as good as you say.” Crockett leaned back against the bar, taking it all in while watching for any reinforcements in case Nicky had more than one gun at his back. He enjoyed watching Tubbs deal. He could switch from hard to soft and back again in the blink of an eye, and knew just when and where to push to be convincing and seal the deal. It was what made them so effective as partners. Tubbs was the businessman...and he was Burnett. Crockett knew he could deal if he needed to, and had proved that during his time as Burnett, but Tubbs was better at it. In the end Tubbs grinned. “We'll see you back here tomorrow night, Nicky. You'd better be sure the product is as advertised. My people will run their checks, and if it's all cool you'll see us again. If not...” “No harm, no foul.” Crockett unleashed his own grin. “We just disappear and you go back to being a nickle-and-dime street boy.” He hefted Freddy's pistol and ejected the magazine. Flicking off the safety, he worked the slide and let the live round clatter to the bar top. “Give the kid his toy back once we're gone, pal. I'll keep the magazine so he doesn't hurt himself.” Back on the street, Tubbs exhaled and slapped Crockett on the shoulder. “You think he took the bait?” “Hell, I think he pissed his pants.” Crockett unlocked the Ferrari and got in. “The question is will whoever's above him bite?” “For a hundred key deal I'd think so. He might piss his pants, too.” Tubbs was still grinning as they pulled away from the curb. “Where to now, partner?” “I don't know. Maybe troll a few clubs. See what faces are still in the game and who's up and coming. Eight months is a long damn time to be on the bench. And maybe we'll catch wind of Izzy while we're doing it.” Shifting gears, Crockett shot past a Mustang convertible loaded with college girls. “I just hope the little dork's ok.” “Yeah...” Tubbs nodded. “He's a pain in the ass, but he's ourpain in the ass. If anyone's gonna kill that Cuban chump it's gonna be me.” “Izzy's a survivor. I'll give him that.” “Yeah, but we thought Noogie was, too. The game's changing, Crockett.” “True enough. But so are we.” Crockett caught a glimpse of his reflection in the Ferrari's driver side window as he downshifted and shot past another car of gawking tourists. “So are we,” he repeated almost to himself. Moonlight and stars turned the sand a silver gold a few yards from Martin Castillo's plank porch. From where he sat, drinking tea, he could pick out silver-tipped waves as they broke and slid up the beach. The hissing water calmed him, letting his nerves melt into the darkness and peace he always found here. He could almost see Jess out there, riding one of the waves he always talked about deep in the Laotian highlands. “I've...never been here on a night like this.” Trudy walked through the open glass door onto the porch. The moon shone off her hair and highlighted her body through the thin silk robe. “It's a special place. One I've never shared.” Martin stood up, reaching out and taking her hand. “Not until now.” He looked into Trudy's eyes, seeing himself reflected in her happiness. Now I understand what Crockett found with Caitlin. And what he lost.“I don't think I could ever leave here.” “I can see why. It's beautiful, Marty. So peaceful.” She sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. “I never thought anyplace could be so peaceful.” “Places become what we are. They reflect us, for good or bad.” She kissed him softly on the cheek. “I suppose they do. It's not something I thought about much, really. We see so much bad it's easy to miss the good.” Castillo nodded, looking up at the diamond-dotted sky. “That's why I keep this place as it is. It reminds me of Cuba, of Thailand, of Laos, and now Miami. All things come together for me here. And now you are part of that.” “And the Task Force...” “We keep working. I won't hold you back, Trudy. Not because of this. I will worry. I can't lie about that. But you trusted me, and I have to trust you. Nothing at work changes because we have changed.” She hugged him, and he could feel the strength in her arms and hear the determination in her voice. “We will make this work, Marty. I've never felt so...whole...so complete as I do now. I won't risk that.” “Neither will I.” He kissed her then, feeling the softness of her lips against his. “I almost forgot. Stan called just before I left the office. He said he picked up a call from some street dealer to Reno. He was asking about heroin.” “Sounds like Crockett and Tubbs found their first crack in the machine.” Castillo filed the information away in a corner of his mind. Letting it sort itself in with everything else to be pulled out in the morning. “We should hear from them in the morning.” She nodded, then yawned. “I don't know about you, but it's about this girl's bed time.” Martin nodded, kissing her again and feeling her press herself against him. “Morning will come soon enough. We should savor the night while we have it.” “I forgot how good your coffee is, Stan.” Sonny took another sip from his mug and grinned across the table. “And how much I missed it.” “He's not lying. Crockett brews coffee that could stand in for motor oil.” “Old habits, Rico. The Marine Corps doesn't run on decaff. But I ain't gonna lie...I'd rather drink Stan's than my own.” Stan laughed. “Flattery ain't gonna get you a ride in the Bug Van, Sonny. But it might get you the latest tapes from our good friend Reno. Seems someone put a bug up his ass last night about heroin. A low-level punk calling himself Nicky.” “Good old Nicky.” Tubbs got up and poured himself more coffee from the pot. “I wonder if the punk changed his shorts before he made the call?” “That was quick.” Crockett looked over at the thickset detective. “Good work, Stan. They say anything interesting?” “Reno asked about the buyer. When this Nicky mentioned Cooper he got all shook up.” Stan lapsed into his Elvis voice for the last few words. “Did he now?” Tubbs chuckled. “Guess he thinks he should be Cooper's one stop shop.” “I wonder if he stuffed that pager number in some hooker's panties? We should have heard something by now.” “I agree.” As usual no one heard Castillo enter the room. Trudy came in just behind him, her smooth, dark skin accented by a short black dress. “Give him until the end of the day and then reach out.” “Copy that, lieutenant.” Tubbs nodded. “Cooper's a busy man with places to go and deals to make. Completely in cover for him to push back.” “And Burnett doesn't like being jerked around. Yeah, we'll put a bug up his ass, lieutenant.” “Good. Those wires turn up anything else?” “Not yet. Usual chatter about security and warehouse space.” “I took a look at it, too.” Trudy slid into a chair next to Stan, sipping at her own cup of coffee between words. “I think they're getting close to critical mass.” “Meaning what?” “Meaning if they don't move some serious weight soon they'll either have to shut down the pipeline or up their local sales. At least for a couple of weeks. When Broward rolled up the Los Pepes gang last month it put a big crimp in Reno's local sales. They were punks, but they were good for close to fifty keys a week. With that gone...” “And I'll bet Reno doesn't want either Moncado or this new guy to know he's not moving his normal weight. Explains why he didn't hesitate when Tubbs upped the quantity.” “Any chatter about that chump Moreno?” Stan shook his head. “Izzy? Not a word. I've got feelers out, though.” “I got a line on that cousin of his late yesterday.” Trudy spoke quickly. “Manny. He's working at the dog track again, or so some of the girls down on the line say. He's sweet on one of them. Carmello or something like that.” “Isn't that a candy bar?” “Very funny, Rico. Not all the girls are original with their names.” Stan cleared his throat. “Lieutenant, I can have a friend check her out for us. Find out if she's good for the intel.” Castillo nodded. “Do it. If she comes back good, Joplin and Switek will check out the track. Crockett, you and Tubbs turn up the heat on Reno. I'll be in my office if you need anything.” Once Castillo left the room, Crockett turned to Stan. “This friend of yours got good intel on the working girls?” “Sure does. She works with them. Tries to help them get off the street.” Crockett nodded. He knew who Stan meant. “Tell her I said hello and that I understand.” Then he saw the quick flash of pain in Stan's eyes and really did understand. “It's nothing like that, Stan. I know you two will take care of each other. As far as I'm concerned I can't think of anyone else I'd rather see her with.” Stan's cheeks turned red and he looked down at the table. “Thanks, Sonny. I'll tell Gina you said hello.” They were back in the elevator before Tubbs spoke. “Damn, man! Look what happens when we leave! We must be the biggest third wheels in the history of the world.” “Maybe so, Rico. Hell, I don't know. I am glad Gina found somebody who will treat her right.” “That's no lie. Switek might be one pair of blue suede shoes away from the nut house but he's a solid guy.” Crockett nodded, fighting down memories of Caitlin. She always swirled in front of his eyes at moments like this. She was it. My last chance at a life beyond this. And this life killed her. And our child.“Yeah, but we need to figure out how we're going to press Reno.” “Give him until five. If he doesn't page by then, we go looking.” It was four forty-five when the pager in Crockett's linen blazer pocket buzzed its warning. He was sitting alone at the bar in the Breakwater Hotel, one of the newer places down by the beach. Tubbs was off checking another dead-end lead about Izzy, and he'd figured a Black Jack was in order before he picked his partner up and they headed back to Task Force headquarters. He looked at the digital readout on the pager and sighed. “You got a phone in this dump, pal?” he asked the bartender, looking in the direction of the man's gesturing thumb. “Thanks. Keep the change.” Reno picked up on the second ring. “What the hell, Burnett? Your customer branching out on me?” “Hold on, pal. You two ain't married, and I didn't see any exclusive contract on the table. If the man wants to diversify his holdings, who are you to tell him no?” He could hear Reno's breathing quicken and decided to take a chance. “Push him too hard and he might take all his business elsewhere. I've seen him do it before, man. More than once. Cooper's not a man you want to push.” “Who's pushing? Look...all I meant is I might be able to save him a commission. The broker he talked to sources from me.” “Do tell? I'll pass it along.” “Better yet, I can talk to him about it when we meet up. Tomorrow at noon. Same place as before. Tell him to be ready to close the deal.” Crockett found Tubbs two blocks down the street near one of the hotels favored by Miami's blue-haired set. “No sign of the little chump. Clerk at the Bay's Edge says he hasn't seen him in three weeks.” “That'll have to wait.” Crockett barely waited for Rico to shut his door before sending the Ferrari shooting into traffic. “I got the call from Reno.”

A little shorter bit this time to make for easier reading... Moonlight glimmered silver off the rippling sea as Sonny Crockett throttled back on the cigarette boat, hearing the roar of the engines drop to a thumping burble. It was cooler out on the water, and a steady breeze whipped at his gray jacket. Tubbs sat in the seat across from him, his usual dark suit making him almost invisible against the black leather upholstery. Trudy was in the open oval seat behind them, her blue dress exchanged for dark, tight jeans and matching shirt. Stan lurked belowdecks, his CAR-15 at the ready with three more close at hand if needed. They'd made good time over the calm water, skirting blinking running lights of small boats and larger yachts alike on their way to the Keys. With a few minutes in hand, Sonny decided to ease in on the meeting, waiting for Reno to make the first move and hopefully buying the Coast Guard enough time to get into position. The trip had been quiet for the most part. Early on Stan had cracked a few jokes, but the seriousness of the mission caught up with him. Trudy seemed content to sit back and watch the stars, though Sonny suspected her mind was back on shore. He had Tubbs had ridden into danger enough times and in enough different ways this was another day at the office for them. No words needed or even wanted. His eyes swept the controls, checking RMPs, oil pressure, and fuel levels. He'd had the big boat long enough now all checks were simple reflex. He'd know if anything was wrong by the sound of the engine, the lurch of the hull though the water, or the smell of the exhaust when the wind hit them right. All systems go. As usual. Tubbs picked up binoculars from the dashboard and swept the water in front of them. “Got something just to the left of the island. Looks big enough to be a cabin cruiser. Put the radio on Marine 2. Reno said he'd use that when they were in position.” Trudy checked her watch. “Five minutes to show time.” “Hey, guys. Any way a man can get a drink on this tub?” Stan's voice floated up from the front compartment. “Yeah. Hang out the port and swallow.” Crockett chucked in spite of himself. “It's a bit salty, though.” “You'd better upgrade the service if you expect me to ride along again.” “That's all I have to do to get rid of you? Hell, why didn't you tell me sooner?” “Very funny, Crockett. Remind me to hit all the potholes next time you have to hitch a ride in the Bug Van.” “You weren't doing that already?” Trudy cleared her throat to get their attention. “I hate to interrupt, but two minutes.” Almost on cue the radio hissed to life. “Miami calling New York. You out there?” Tubbs keyed the microphone. “New York here. Got you, Miami.” “Look for our lights and come to us. Out.” Seconds later two strings of lights flared on a few hundred yards in front of them. To anyone watching it would look like just another cabin cruiser taking precautions after stopping for the day. Crockett leaned down below the dash. “I'll go in slow to try to buy some time if the Coast Guard's close by.” Trudy came up to stand between Sonny and Rico. “What's the plan?” “If the coasties come in, I go to full throttle and run to the north. Castillo told them to make a show but nothing more. If they don't come in we make the buy as usual. Stan, kill the lights and stay low down there. If it comes to it, you're one of my guys along to help shift the load.” Sonny laughed. “We can't have Mr. Cooper or his lady getting their hands dirty.” Sonny felt Trudy's hand on his shoulder. “What do you want me to do?” “Let them see you. If it starts going south, say you need to powder your nose or something. Stan? Is her carbine where we left it?” “Yep. Locked and loaded.” “Good. At the first shot come up and rock and roll.Tubbs and I will take close-in shooters until we can get to the long guns. You and Stan will need to pick off the guys on the cabin cruiser who have automatic weapons. They're the biggest threat.” Sonny eased the throttle open, using the wheel to guide the big boat through the darkness. “Tubbs, turn on the running lights. We want to look friendly.” “And it's Christmas.” Tubbs flicked a switch, turning on the red and green lights. Sonny could see the dark shadow now. It was a big cabin cruiser, about twice the size of his cigarette boat, with an elevated platform bridge and fishing seats along the stern. Clouds slid in erratic arcs over the moon, but there was enough light for him to pick out two men in the platform and another two on the bow. “At least four on deck. Can't see the stern.” He kept the engines steady. “I can't delay much longer without them getting curious. Stan, cut the transponder.” “It's off.” Stan's rumbled blonde hair showed through the compartment hatch. “I wonder what...” As if in answer the roar of powerful engines boomed over the water and searchlights stabbed from the darkness near the island shore. “United States Coast Guard! Unidentified craft, prepare to be boarded and searched. Cut your engines now!” Sonny spun the wheel like it shocked him and rammed the twin throttles wide open. The acceleration pushed Trudy back into the oval seat, and he heard Stan curse as he scrabbled for a handhold. Over the roar of the twin engines he could hear Tubbs shouting in sheer pleasure and he risked a look back just in time to see something flash on the deck of what he took to be the anti-narcotics boat. “Hang on! They fired a star shell. Taking evasive action!” The crack of the gun reached them just before a bright white flare bloomed like a second sun to illuminate their wake. The gunner had underestimated their speed, and Sonny's sharp turns kept them out of the arc of the floating flare. He tried to focus on his piloting, but couldn't ignore Trudy's shout. “They took fire! We've got a gunfight going back there!” “You mean a funeral.” Sonny kept the throttles wide open, the cigarette boat shuddering as it leapt out of the water and crashed back through the occasional wave. “Those boats carry fifty calibers. The most Reno's boys have is AKs. If they have more than two brain cells they'll surrender.” Now he could hear the slow, steady thumping of the big machine gun over the staccato chatter of MAC-10s and the signature crack-bark of Soviet assault rifles. “Idiot's not walking away from this one.” As if to punctuate his comment the big Browning hit a propane tank attached to a grill somewhere on deck. The explosion's boom chased its flash across the water to them. Tubbs ducked down behind the windscreen to avoid spray. “You think we're clear yet?” “I don't know. Stan! Turn that transponder back on. I don't want them mistaking us for another target on their radar.” Sonny pulled the throttles back to three-quarter power and increased his evasive turns. “Gotta sell this in case any of Reno's people survive.” “Now what do we do?” Trudy's voice was soft over the roar of the engines and the crash of the boat muscling its way through the water. “Wait for Pedrosa to call.” Tubbs relaxed his grip on the arm of his seat, but his eyes still glittered with the excitement of the ride. “He needs Cooper and Burnett, especially if Reno's history.” “I just got off the phone with the Coast Guard station's operations officer.” Castillo looked as fresh as he had that morning. Granted he hadn't been racing over water, but it still amazed Sonny. The man never seemed to sweat. “He sends us his regards. They seized the cabin cruiser after a brief exchange of gunfire. Six of Reno's men are dead and three wounded. Reno was grazed by a .50 round and is in surgery now. They're not sure if he's going to make it. The found the heroin and what appears to be one hundred kilos of cocaine as well.” “He might have been moving that for someone else.” Tubbs leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Lots of boats out there tonight.” “Were any of his people wounded?” Sonny remembered the return fire, and AKs held bad memories for him. “No. A couple of holes in the boat but nothing serious.” Castillo folded his hands. “Now we wait. Crockett, watch the pager for anything from Pedrosa. Tubbs, stay close to Crockett. With his main local outlet down as well as what sounds like some of his transport, Pedrosa will have to move soon.” He got up from the table. “Good work. All of you. Now go get some rest. We may have a day or two before Pedrosa has to move, but once he does he'll move fast. Be ready.” “I'll be on the wires.” Stan was the first to get up. “As soon as word of this reaches Pedrosa he's going to melt the phones. Might scare up a few more networks or give us a fix on him or Moncado.” “I've got some intel to go through.” Trudy smiled, stretching the kinks out of her long legs. “Maybe we can get a lead on who might have been buying that coke.” “That reminds me, Rico and I had better burn some phones ourselves. Reno might be out of the picture, but if Pedrosa finds his answering machine I want a few Burnett classics on there.” “Cooper needs to hammer, too. Maybe rat him out about the heroin just in case he doesn't make it.” The Ma Duce doesn't really wound, Tubbs. I doubt he'll make it.” Sonny gave a thin grin, thinking back to hearing the big guns thumping their beat along the wire of a few firebases. “Very good. I want at least one of you to pick up Manny tomorrow. Trudy's girl has him lined up for us. And I want to know where Moreno is and what he knows.” “Copy that, lieutenant. Where do you want him delivered if we find him?” “OCB. We're still using their interrogation and holding facilities.” Crockett was navigating the Ferrari though the late night traffic before the partners spoke again. “You really think Reno's done?” “Those fifties don't wound, Rico. A graze probably took his arm off. I've seen shock from that kill a sapper, and they're a damned sight tougher than Reno.” Sonny narrowed his eyes, avoiding a Mercedes full of drunk tourists in shirts plastered with pink flamingos. “Use the car phone to page Reno a couple of times. Just to leave some tracks for Pedrosa to find.” “Solid. And I'll call him from my place. Switek's got one of those phones up there so it'll look like it's coming from a pay phone at the airport. And you can come up and see how the other half lives.” The penthouse was cool and dark, lit only by moonlight making its way past the half-drawn blinds. Tubbs unlocked the door and flicked on the lights with a grand hand gesture. “Behold!” Sonny chuckled. “Not too shabby, Tubbs. You got running water and everything.” “And the outhouse is indoors! Just hush my mouth!” Rico laughed, locking the door behind them and heading for the liquor cabinet. “How about a drink to celebrate?” “Why not?' Sonny looked around, trying to hide his envy. Tubbs didhave a pretty damned nice place, one that suited him right down to his Gucci shoes. It was the kind of place Burnett would have lived in, giving it an eerie quality that grew the more he thought about it. Burnett might be gone, but he understood he still lived inside of him. The things that made Burnett were from me. Hell, they wereme. Some of them still are me. And always will be.“And this is a damned nice place, Rico.” “The brother finally got some love.” Tubbs laughed again as he came back with two drinks. “I'll make a call or two and we can go out and enjoy the view.” Outside the air was clear and cool for a Miami summer. The city was starting to slow down, the brief pause for air between three and six when it all started running again. Sonny looked down at the Jack Daniel's in his glass, swirling rich and tan around the ice cubes, and replayed the night in his mind. Looking for anything that could have gone differently. Better or worse. In the end it was likely best for the Coast Guard to take down Reno. Saved them buy money, got the heroin off the street, and build them some street cred with Pedrosa. But he couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow cheating. “That should get Pedrosa's juices flowing.” Tubbs sauntered out, snapping his fingers to a beat only he could hear. “I told Reno's machine that after tonight's little show I might just take my goodies back to New York and find another supplier. One who's discrete.” He laughed again, doing a bit of a spin and taking a deep drink. “We got it goin' on tonight, partner.” “Did you inhale some of Noogie when we were at Rizzo's?” Sonny smiled in spite of himself. Rico's good moods were contagious. “Naw, man. I'm thinkin'. We got Pedrosa by the curlies. He's got too much weight, I'm the only cat who can pay his price, and I'm threatenin' to take my ball and go home. And he lost one hundred keys in the bargain. Now if we had two fine ladies it would be perfect all around, but I can settle for this.” “You know, you're right.” Sonny took another drink, feeling the cool Jack slip down his throat. “Before this task force we could only dream about this kind of buy money. We never even got close to guys of Pedrosa's size, let alone Moncado. They let us snap up their scraps, but that was it. We could never wait, never really pressure. But now...” Now we can act like Burnett. Move like Burnett. Damn. “You think Trudy can get us a meet with those shooters?” “Hell, if she can't Marty can. I want to meet them, too, Rico. They're our only backup and I want to look them in the eye and get a sense of who they are.” Tubbs looked out over the glittering lights of the city, and Sonny could almost hear him thinking. “Sonny...I gotta ask. Will you be able to lean on Pedrosa if he gets squirrelly?” “You mean can I go Burnett without killing him?” Sonny smiled to take the edge off the comment. “Yeah, I can, Rico. I don't know that I'll need to if you keep the Cooper shuffle going strong, but it's ready if you need it.” He took another drink, looking down at the city he'd given so much to for so long. “It's funny, though. Before we had rules. Lots of rules. Now, it's like we have suggestions. And there aren't many of them. The whole thing changed overnight, and we missed the previews.” “Like you said, partner, we're hitting people we could only dream about before. Stan, he looks like a kid in a candy store with all that gear he's got loaded in the Bug Van. And Trudy...” “We need to get her in the field. It can't just be the two of us all the time. Hell, team her up with Stan. They can go places we can't and keep our covers intact.” “Yeah, but that's work, partner. This here rooftop is a no work zone.” Tubbs grinned. “Unless it's work that involves panties comin' off.” Sonny laughed. “You got that right. Hell, let's have another drink and then I'd best head back and feed Elvis before he starts snacking on the boat. At least we don't have to be up at the crack of dawn to deal with that bozo Manny.” “Don't remind me. At least he's a Moreno who doesn't talk.” It was almost two before Stan Switek turned the key in the lock of his apartment door and eased into the living room. The tapes were all set in the Bug Van, the consoles running on voice-activated autopilot for at least twelve hours, so he could forget about it and just relax. But it was hard. Adrenalin from the aborted buy still trickled through his veins, and he opened the refrigerator to dig out a beer. “How did it go?” Gina's voice startled him, even though he should have known she'd wake up as soon as he came in. “Good.” he pulled the tab on the beer and took a deep drink, enjoying the way the moonlight shone through her thin camisole and highlighted her body. “The Coast Guard did all the heavy lifting, and Sonny got to show off with the boat. Those coasties shot the hell out of Reno's boat, though. I'm glad they knew to ignore us.” She walked into the kitchen and kissed him. “I'm glad everyone on the team's ok. You look tired.” “Just had to get the tapes set before I could call it a night. With Reno down, the rest of that crew's going to be burning up phone lines sorting out who's in charge. Trudy's gonna be busy trying to sort that whole mess out for Castillo and the boys.” He took her hand and led her to the couch. “How was your day?” Gina smiled and snuggled in beside him. “Good, but frustrating. Some of those girls are so close to coming in, but they just won't take that last step. Too afraid of their pimps, or too hooked on something or another. But it feels good when they do come in. Worth every hour of suffering before they decide.” Stan took another drink and smiled. As always with Gina he found himself grasping for words. “You're so pretty when you talk about them. I mean you're always pretty, but there's something that happens to your eyes when you talk about winning one of them over. I could watch you talk about it for hours.” He finished the beer and set the empty can on the coffee table. “I know that sounds dumb. I never had Larry's gift of gab.” “Maybe not.” She giggled and put her arm around his shoulders. “But you mean every word you say. I love that about you, Stan. I always admired it before, but I love it now.” This time he kissed her. Deep and long. She seemed to flow into his arms and they held each other on the couch. Feeling each other's heartbeats. It was Stan who broke the kiss first. “I don't know about you, but I'm ready for bed.” Sonny sat at the saloon table belowdecks on the St. Vitus Dancesipping coffee and listening to Elvis crunch down his brunch on the bow. He had no particular place to be until Tubbs picked him up at three, and it felt good. For the first time in days he could actually sit and take stock of what had happened. Almost a year on the beach and everything had changed. Things he'd never dreamed possible had come to pass, both on the Job and off. Most of it hadn't really sunk in yet, and some of it he was still trying to figure out. Noogie was dead, Izzy seemed to have disappeared from the face of the earth, Gina was off the squad, and romance had bloomed in places he'd not expected but was glad to see. He and Tubbs...they'd changed but they hadn't. His coffee actually tasted good for a change, and Sonny poured a second cup to take up on deck. “Might as well enjoy it now,” he muttered, pulling on a t-shirt and staying in his faded jeans. He'd have to change before they went after Manny, but there was no reason to be uncomfortable now. He could feel the familiar weight of the compact Detonics on his right ankle and smiled to himself. Even when relaxing he didn't like going unarmed. A light breeze teased at the sloop's rigging, triggering a flood of memories. Some good, some not so good, and others bittersweet. Caitlin had loved the boat, and they'd spent many weekends cruising just offshore pretending they were alone in the world. Those memories wrapped with nights he'd staggered back blind drunk after sealing some two key deal with way too many shots of bourbon or tequila. Through it all the wind had rattled that rigging, reminding him where he was, although maybe not who he was. Sunk deep in his memories, Sonny didn't hear the pager beep. He did feel it buzz, though, clipped to his jeans waistband even now. Blinking to clear his head, he looked down and read the number. “Not one I recognize. Good chance it's Pedrosa.” Sipping more coffee, he looked up to see Elvis peering around at him. “Yeah, I agree. Let him wait. We don't want to look too eager to dance. It's not becoming, is it, Elvis?” The alligator made a noise that passed for a snort before turning back to his mid-morning nap. Sonny was still sitting on deck enjoying the day when Rico sauntered down the dock. “Permission to come aboard?” he barked when he was close enough, snapping off a salute that almost but not quite ended with an upraised middle finger. “Joo got it, main.” Sonny grinned, serving up his best Izzy impersonation. “How kind of you to show up right at feeding time.” “You're kidding, right? All these years and I still don't trust that crawling suitcase.” “Let me get changed and we'll go.” As he got to his feet, Sonny tossed Rico the pager. “Look what flew in this morning.” “Three times no less. Looks we rattled someone's cage.” “Yeah.” Sonny slipped on his white linen slacks and changed into a dark Henley before shrugging on his shoulder rig with the big 4506. Shoes and a white linen blazer completed the look. It wasn't the new Burnett, but he figured it would rattle Manny enough the little goof wouldn't try to run. “He either wants to talk to us or kill us.” “Three pages? I'd say talk. If he wanted someone dead he would have tried once and then sent shooters calling. This boat ain't exactly the Bat Cave, you know.” “Don't say cave around Elvis. He's afraid of the dark.” Sonny slipped on his Ray Bans and came up from below. “Let's get this show on the road. After that maybe we'll call that number and see if it's really Pedrosa.” As far as Sonny Crockett was concerned one dog track looked like any other. They all smelled of desperation, stale sweat, and dog piss. But they attracted all walks of life, one of the few places bankers rubbed shoulders with bums three weeks from their last showers and shouted for the same sprinting greyhounds. Lined up at the same windows clutching their tickets or money. Both convinced they had a line on a sure thing. And at the end of the day they both lost everything they'd brought with them. Tubbs adjusted his sun glasses and straightened his tie. “Where is that little chump?” “Trudy's informant says he cashes his check before she takes all his cash, so I'd say he'll be at the far window.” Sonny nodded down the line toward the far betting window. “Looks like they do all the check cashing down there.” Bells rang and the ticker board chattered as the odds for the next race were updated. Crockett and Tubbs made their way past men muttered about a trifecta or some other arcane combination guaranteed to make them rich if it ever happened. Sonny scanned the crowd as he walked, his eyes missing nothing behind his sunglasses. “I got two goons over by our window.” “Yeah. And about four more mixed in the crowd. I don't think they have any heavy artillery, though. Snubbies and blackjacks at most.” “They aren't as mobbed up down here as your cousins in New Jersey.” Sonny chuckled, dodging a heavyset man in a thousand dollar suit charging toward a window bellowing about his winnings. “No shotguns or baseball bats except for the bosses behind the counter.” He paused, then started walking faster. “There he is! Three back from the window.” “I see him.” Tubbs started to peel away. “I'll come around from the left so he can't bolt if he sees you.” “Gotcha. And have your badge ready. Flash the shield at the goons and they'll disappear.” Manny was as skinny as Crockett remembered, the kind of goofball who disappeared when the turned sideways. Long, dark hair hung down around his shoulders, and his track work shirt looked like he'd been wearing it for months. Clutching his paycheck with both hands, he shuffled forward as the line moved, looking at nothing but the back of the man in front of him. He jumped almost a foot in the air when Sonny touched his arm. “You can cash that later, Manny. We need to have a little talk.” “Ah! Hey! What you...” Sonny actually had never heard Manny talk before, and the scratchy sound told him why. “You can't...” “This badge says I can. And guess what? My partner's got one just like it. He's that grumpy guy on your left. He hates dogs, and you made him come out here where he's surrounded by them.” “That's right, chump.” Tubbs latched onto Manny's upper arm with a grip that made the kid wince. He turned to the guards, palming his badge so they could see it. “And you two best just move along. We just need a few words with the kid.” “Come on, Manny. Next stop, a room that doesn't smell like dog piss and wino farts. It might even be air conditioned.” He nodded toward the skinny dyed blonde wringing her hands by the window. “Tell your girl you'll be back in a couple of hours. Be a good boy and we'll stop so you can cash your check.” It felt strange pulling up outside the old Gold Coast Shipping building. Sonny could see Tubbs felt the same way by how his eyes narrowed as he wheeled the big Caddy into a parking spot. Getting in was easy enough; a matter of flashing their badges and new IDs, but Sonny could feel the hot gazes on his back as they herded Manny into an interrogation room. And he hadn't prepared himself for the memories, good and bad, flooding his head as soon as they stepped through the door. Manny hadn't said a word the entire drive from the track to OCB. In fact, he'd been so motionless Sonny was afraid he'd stroked out somewhere along the way. Now he sat in the hard metal chair, his eyes wide and staring around the room. Tubbs loomed just in the corner of his view. He'd taken off his sunglasses, and now he flashed a thin, mean grin at Izzy's nephew. “Bet you're wondering why we brought you here, chump. Am I right? Of course I'm right. You're sitting there trying not to piss your pants wondering what you did to make us bring you here.” Sonny leaned in, knowing Manny could see his own fear reflected in the sunglasses. “The thing is, Manny, we don't care about you. Not one bit. You're a small-time little punk as far as we're concerned. No, scratch that. I have friends who are small-time punks and I don't want to insult them. Here's the thing. We want your uncle. Seems he just dropped out of sight.” Tubbs slammed his hand on the table, the crack making Manny jump. “Bang! Just like that!” “See, that's a problem for us. We need to talk to him. I know Izzy loves to talk. But he's been out of sight for a whole month. That's just not natural for him.” “I...” “Now think real careful before you answer.” Tubbs leaned in, his face inches from Manny's. “You don't want to lie to us. We'll know when you're lying, and it just makes it worse for you.” Manny's chin trembled. “I...” “Think about what my partner said.” Sonny yanked a chair over and sat down right beside Manny. “You've been in on scams with Izzy before, and you know we don't lie. You also know we can make your life very, very difficult. It's kind of what we do.” “He's hiding out.” Manny's voice broke with the admission, and he started sobbing. Tubbs threw up his hands. “You don't say. We never could have guessed.” He lowered his voice, biting off each word as he spoke. “Tell. Us. Where. He. Is.” “He's hiding in the Keys. His uncle's got some kind of fishing shack or something out there, and Izzy's using it.” Manny buried his head in his hands and sobbed. “I don't know where it is. If I did, I'd be there instead of working with dogs. I hate dogs!” Sonny nodded. “Ah. Izzy's mystery uncle have a name?” “Ferdinand Orosco. He's the one who breeds those damned dogs. They used to piss on me when Izzy made me walk them.” “Thanks, kid.” Sonny slapped Manny on the arm before he walked out into the old squad room. “Hey Gorman! Can you do me a favor and see the kid in interrogation one gets back to the track? If he's nice let him cash his check on the way.” Gorman had a head like a bleached watermelon planted squarely in the middle of his massive shoulders. “Fuck you, Crockett. But I'll do it. You helped me out with that Columbian punk two years back.” “Yeah, yeah.” Sonny turned and walked back into the hall. He grinned when he saw Tubbs. “Gorman hasn't changed a bit. Still an asshole.” “Can you blame him? We just blew in like we own the place and had him take out our trash.” Rico chuckled. “But it couldn't happen to a better asshole. I never did like him.” “Yeah...and it looks like Pedrosa tried the pager again while we were shaking up Manny.” Sonny walked out into the afternoon, feeling the heat coming up through the thin soles of his shoes. “Let's swing by the office and call him back. Maybe Stan or Trudy can find something on this uncle of Izzy's. Property records or something. We still need to bring the little freak out in the open.”

Castillo was waiting for them when the elevator doors opened on the tenth floor. “The others are waiting.” His dark suit was slightly mussed, and Sonny alerted Rico with a slight incline of his head. “Is that rouge on his shoulder?” Sonny whispered when Rico got close. “I think so.” Tubbs grinned wide. “Marty be getting busy.” “What was that, detective?” “I said we got what we needed out of Manny, lieutenant.” Rico gave Sonny a wide-eyed 'we got busted' look and followed Castillo into the conference room. Trudy was already sitting at the table, her hair more than a bit out of place. The rouge on her cheeks was smudged, and Sonny and Rico exchanged fleeting glances. Stan sat at the far end of the table making a show of going through his notebooks, but his chubby cheeks were still a bright red. “Where do we stand?” “I've had a number I don't know page me four times today. I'm guessing it's Pedrosa or one of his main guys.” “It's Pedrosa.” Stan looked up from his notes, the color leaving his cheeks faster as he focused on the case. “He's been lighting up switchboards all over town. Damn! I always wanted to say that. He doesn't spend much time on the phone himself, but after he calls his people go nuts.” “We've been letting him stew all day.” Sonny flopped down in one of the comfortable chairs surrounding the table and sighed. “Sort of like someone weighing his options would do.” “And Moreno?” Castillo wasn't giving anything away, although he was sitting closer to Trudy than normal. “We picked up Manny just like Carmello said. Scared the dye out of her hair when we did, too.” Tubbs chuckled. “He started talking quick enough at OCB. As far as he knows, that chump Izzy is still alive. He's hiding out at some shack his uncle has the Keys. The uncle's name is Ferdinand Orosco.” “That dog breeder?” Stan perked up. “Sorry, lieutenant. Back when I was betting dogs were one of my weaknesses. Orosco raises some serious champions. I never knew he was related to that punk Izzy.” “Trudy, pull his property records when you get a chance.” Castillo looked down at his folded hands as if he was weighing something. “And tell us what you know about Pedrosa's organization now.” Trudy smiled and straightened her black dress. There was a swagger to her voice Sonny hadn't noticed before. He liked it. “With Reno gone...and he is gone. He died on the operating table. Anyhow, with him gone Pedrosa's organization has a huge hole. The guys on the boat were Reno's heavy lifters. The ones who knew how to get things done and had connections. Basically, Pedrosa has no distributors now. I'm sure he's still got contacts from when he ran at Reno's level, but starting that up again takes time. And he doesn't have time. Stan's gotten some chatter from Moncado's people about another shipment. And they want to know what's happening.” “So Pedrosa's under pressure.” “Huge amounts of pressure. I've studied Stan's notes and listened to the tapes. Pedrosa's got about ten shooters, and he can call in another ten on short notice. But that doesn't help him clear the cocaine he's got on hand. And it needs to move before more can arrive.” “I don't have the full picture yet.” Stan spoke up, nodding to Trudy. “But I think Moncado's being pressed for money. That's his job, after all. Turn the produce of Maynard's narco dictator pals into cash. I'm not dialed into the other side of Maynard's operation yet, but I'm guessing if he's putting the squeeze on Moncado for cash it's going to the other head of the snake.” “Crockett. Tubbs. Make the call. Trudy, you and Switek might have to follow up on Moreno depending on how Pedrosa responds. I want to know why that con-artist went to ground for over a month.” Sonny nodded. “You got that phone ready, Stan? Time to make a call.” “Coming up. Where do you want to be calling from?” “The airport. Time to make him sweat some more.” Sonny waited until Stan gave him a thumbs-up and dialed the number blinking on his pager. “This is Burnett. Who's wasting my time?...Carlos you say? Well that's fine, Carlos. How'd you get this number?..Mutual friend? Last I heard, pal, Reno got his innards scattered all over the bay by the Coast Guard. Me and my client almost got rolled up in that little fiasco...My client? I'm trying to convince him to stay here instead of going back to New York City...What's that, Mr. Cooper? I'll tell him...Cooper says you got two strikes already: one for that moron Tio and the other for the mess Reno made. He's afraid he'll get stuck in the third....Tell you what...I'll call you at this number if there's any deal to be done, pal.” Looking at the receiver, Sonny slammed down the phone and then laughed. “What did Pedrosa say?” “Stan can run the tape back, but I'd say he's worried, lieutenant. Really worried. He never used his last name, but he was damned anxious to know if Cooper was still willing to deal.” “I'll call him next time.” Tubbs leaned back in his chair. “I'd say tomorrow sometime so I look good and doubtful.” “We're not on a clock, detectives.” Castillo raised a hand. “I'm not saying slow down. But we don't need to hurry things because some DA wants to make a case. We do this at our own pace and hand off what we can't take down. Giving Reno to the Coast Guard generated good will for us, and it won't hurt to have more stockpiled. You two work Pedrosa. Make him wait as long as you think you need to in order to reel him in. Trudy, Switek, you get Moreno and the general surveillance. Check in tomorrow and we'll adjust as needed.” Stan leaned forward. “I hate to say it, but I might need some help, lieutenant. With all those bugs running it's getting harder to keep things updated. And if you need me in the field...” “I'll get Lester from OCB.” Castillo made a note on his pad. “Will that work?” “You bet, lieutenant. Lester's good and he knows how we work. He'll be able to step right in.” Stan frowned. “Will it take much work?” “No. He'll be here in a day. Maybe two if I have to make more than one call.” Castillo looked up, his face unreadable. “And if I have to make more than one call someone is not going to like the results of that second call. You'll have Lester.” They were almost to the house on the beach when Trudy giggled. “I think they know.” Castillo nodded. “And I don't care.” “I know Sonny saw my make-up on your jacket. And I was sure Stan was going to die when he walked in on us kissing.” She smiled and rested her hand on his thigh while Castillo drove. “It feels so...” “Right.” Castillo finished the sentence and allowed himself a smile. A realsmile, not one of the thin ones he occasionally used as praise. He'd hadn't smiled this way in years, and it felt good. But not as good as it felt being with Trudy. Just being in the car with her did something to him he'd not thought possible. He felt...content. Oh, the edge was still there. It always would be. Martin Castillo wasn't a man who took things easy. But now, one part of his life had settled in a way he feared it never would. Again he thought back to Crockett and Caitlin, to the strength he'd seen growing between them before Hackman buried it, and part of Sonny, forever. Turning off the headlights, he drove the last quarter mile in the dark. An old habit, but it allowed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and didn't advertise his arrival to any uninvited guests. Tradecrafthis former Company colleagues called it. For Castillo it was just common sense. He eased the big sedan into its parking spot and shut off the engine, hearing it tick as it cooled in the fresh sea breeze. Trudy sighed. “I still can't believe this place. The way you can hear the waves and the insects. You'd never think we were close to Miami.” “Let's go in. I'll make us some tea and dinner.” He smiled, another of his real smiles. “There's a Vietnamese recipe I think you'll like.” “I'll get changed while you do.” She touched his arm, waiting as he unlocked the door and entered the alarm code. Once they were inside she kissed him before heading for the back bedroom. As he set water to boil on the stove and checked the refrigerator and cupboards for ingredients, Martin let his mind wander back over how this had come to pass. It had, he knew, been years in the making. Familiarity born from hours of working in close contact with no one else to turn to when things got difficult. He'd seen Trudy struggle with her first real shooting and watched her grow from a bait hooker into one of the finest detectives he'd ever known. Her instincts were even better than Crockett's; a man who ran almost totally on instinct. Yet she tempered the instinct with an intellect easily missed and an analytical approach worthy of Tubbs. Filling a strainer with loose tea, he poured boiling water into a pot brought all the way from Japan and let the tang of tea fill the still air in the room. He could hear water running in the bathroom and smiled, thinking of Trudy in the shower. After spending years denying her beauty it felt good to admit it. He started rice cooking and assembled what was needed for the rest of the meal; a mix of vegetables, shrimp, and Nuc Mam. A little oil heated in the pan and the stir-fry would be ready to go. Which gave him time to shrug out of his coat and tie and let his soul breathe. Trudy came out of the back wearing a short silk robe tied at her narrow waist. He couldn't tell in the dim light if she was wearing anything under it, and found himself hoping she wasn't. “That tea smells fantastic.” “I already poured you a cup. The food will be ready soon, too.” Castillo turned a control near the small kitchen island, dimming the lights in the main room. “I don't have any candles so this will have to do.” “It's perfect, Marty.” She sipped her tea and smiled. “You'll have to let me make dinner for you next time. My apartment isn't this nice, but...” “It's yours, so it will be fine.” Martin dropped the shrimp into the hot pan, listening to it sizzle as it started to cook and smelling the familiar smells taking him right back to the small restaurants of Saigon a lifetime ago. The memory gave him pause, making him hold back what he'd been about to ask. Mind or heart?he asked himself. The answer wasn't coming. He added the pungent fish sauce to the pan, stirring to coat the shrimp and turning them so they'd cook evenly. A sprinkle of chopped herbs and it was ready. He spooned rice into bowls, adding the shrimp and sauce as he kept turning the question. Mind or heart? Trudy was already sitting on her cushion at the low table, her long legs folded under her. She'd only towel-dried her hair, and it had a tousled look that took Martin's breath away. She smiled up at him as he set the bowl in front of her. “That smells fantastic. But you don't expect me to eat it with those two sticks, do you?” “I'll teach you.” He smiled, sitting down beside her with his own bowl and tea. “It's easy once you practice. Just pinch them between your fingers here.” He reached out, taking her hand in his and positioning the chopsticks. “Then you just pick and lift. Eat over the bowl at first so if anything drops you don't waste it. When I was learning I just picked up the bowl and kept it under my chin. The shorter the distance the less likely you are to drop anything.” Reaching down, he picked some shrimp and rice out of her bowl with his chopsticks and raised it to her full lips. She leaned forward and took the bite, smiling with satisfaction. “That's really good! I've never had Vietnamese food before. At least not real Vietnamese food.” “I know some Thai recipes as well. We can have that tomorrow if you like.” “We could eat Big Macs for all I care. So long as I'm with you.” She giggled. “I don't mean I'd rather have Big Macs. I...” “I know what you mean.” He smiled and touched her hand. “We should finish before it gets cold. It's not bad that way, but it's better when it's hot.” They were partway through when Trudy looked up. “I was talking to Stan the other day. Did you know he and Gina are living together?” “Yes.” “She hadn't told me. Stan is so happy, though. It's the best I've seen him since Zito was murdered.” “I agree.” And he and Crockett made their peace without me having to get involved. “He's turned into a first-class detective.” “And Gina...” “I had them create that position for her.” Castillo raised a finger. “Don't tell her, though. She needed a change, and that section needed a real detective who could make arrests and help them process information they gathered. The current team also doesn't know the streets like Gina does. It's a perfect place for her. Until she's ready to move on.” “You're right, as usual.” Trudy reached out and took his hand, kissing his finger. “How did you become so all-knowing?” “Mistakes. Mine and those of others. Too many of them.” Martin set his chopsticks in the empty bowl and unbuttoned his white shirt, feeling the cool late evening air through his t-shirt. “There's more tea if you'd like some.” “Please.” She stood, letting the robe slip open slightly. “Dinner was fantastic, Marty.” “Thank you.” He took her cup and poured more green tea, adding the dregs to his own cup. When he took the dishes to the kitchen he dimmed the lights even more, leaving the room in a very soft golden glow casting memories more than shadows. He shrugged off his shirt, hanging it with his jacket, and turned back to the living room. She was at the wide sliding windows when he returned, looking out toward the sea. Her cup was close to her mouth, and he could see the outline of her firm body through the robe. Coming up behind her he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her press back against him and his own response to her being so near. “I love this view,” she whispered, running her fingers over his hands. “How long have we known each other, Trudy? Six years?” “Something like that.” She leaned back into him, and he could feel her hair tickling his mustache. “Almost to the day.” I knew May Ying for six months before we were married.He hugged her, feeling her heartbeat against his forearm. “I can't believe it took this long.” “We're both loners. Not necessarily lonely, but loners. Trust...is hard for us. At least for me. It has to be earned.” “I agree.” She turned in his arms and kissed him, her need telegraphing itself to him. “I don't trust easy. Never have. But I trust you, Marty. With all my heart.” His heart won. “Would you like to live out here with me? The view is all I have to offer, but...” She kissed him again, her arms wrapped tight around his neck like she was afraid of falling. “I'd love that, Marty,” she said when she broke off the kiss. Her robe slipped completely open, and he saw she was wearing nothing underneath. Her dark skin shone almost bronze in the light from the moon and the dim bulbs in the room. “Just like I love you.” The words formed without thought, coming not from his brain but somewhere deeper inside. A place he'd feared died long ago. “I love you, too, Trudy.” Bass boomed through the club's closed doors, assaulting Sonny Crockett's ears as soon as they stepped out of the car. Ricardo Tubbs looked over the low roof of the Ferrari and grinned. The trip had been his idea. “Party time! Sounds like they got it rockin' and rollin' already!” “Yeah.” Sonny looked at his partner, resplendent in Armani's finest suit and matching alligator shoes. He'd stuck with basic Burnett black for the evening. If any of Pedrosa's men happened to have eyes on the club, it was just Burnett entertaining his client Cooper. The club run had been Tubbs' idea. 'Get out where they can see us and have a good time, too' was his reasoning, and Sonny couldn't really fault it. Until he heard the music thundering its beat from the club. “Come on, Sonny! Live a little! It's New Yawk party time!” Tubbs kept grinning as he did his little shuffle dance to the doorman and handed him a hundred. “Hope that counts as my ID. Me and my associate don't like lines.” The doorman, who looked more like a starting lineman for the Dolphins and had the blank eyes of someone who'd taken too many blows to the head, looked from the money to the milling line waiting on the wrong side of the velvet rope and back again. “I don't know...” Sonny walked up, using his slow Burnett stride. “Look, pal. Mr. Cooper just wants a Miami good time while he's in town from New York. You don't want to make this harder than it needs to be.” “Oh, no, Mr. Burnett. I didn't see he was with you.” The wall of muscle swallowed the hundred in a massive hand and let them in, growling at a skinny punk who tried to complain. “He used to work security on one of...Burnett's runs,” Sonny explained, raising his voice to compensate for the thundering speakers. I almost said 'my' runs. Keep it straight, Crockett.“Been a couple of years, but I guess my reputation's still solid.” Tubbs nodded, looking around. “Let's get a drink and see the sights!” The club was dark, lit mostly by strobing ceiling lights pulsing to the beat of the music and a garish swath of neon marking the big glass and steel bar running along the far wall. Booths hugged the edges of the wide dance floor, currently dominated by girls wearing as little clothing as possible moving like they'd stuck their fingers in low-voltage outlets. Making his way to the bar with maximum use of elbows, Sonny ordered a black Jack for himself and scotch for Rico. “Walker Black,” he shouted over the next wave of bass washing over them. “Not that red shit.” Rico's eyes glittered in the strobes. “This is living! Look at that Asian hottie over there! My oh my!” He pointed to a slender girl with long black hair and a skintight silver cocktail dress shaking her finest assets just on the edge of the dance floor. Sonny nodded. He scanned the floor, his eyes shying away from a tall redhead who looked too much like a memory he'd rather forget. The drinks came, and he tossed a twenty on the bar. “Keep it. And keep our drinks coming.” “You up for some trolling, partner?” “Naw. Not yet, anyhow. I want to size up the place. But you can knock yourself out, Rico.” He grinned. “Shower 'em with your New York charm.” “The beast is unleashed!” Rico slapped Sonny on the shoulder. “Now you just sit your cracker ass back and watch how it's done!” Grinning, he sauntered toward the dance floor and the Asian girl in the silver dress. In seconds he was dancing with her, the scotch in his glass shimmering in the strobes as he twirled and sported his best dance moves. Sonny allowed himself a thin smile. It was what Tubbs did best, along with making the deals. It was like he flipped a switch in his head, going from dark and moody to dancing fool in less time than it took the Ferrari to go from zero to sixty on the expressway. He'd seen it get Rico in trouble more than once, and each time he'd shrugged it off with that cocky New York grin. Ever since high school Sonny hated dancing. Leaning with his back against the bar, he watched the crowd surge back and forth, strobes casting darting points off of jewelry or watches. He could fake it, so long as the music was slow and both he and the girl were drunk enough they didn't care how they looked, but this was beyond him. Two quick memories flashed by, a breakdancer doing his thing in front of a hotel just before Eddie Rivera got blown up followed by a faint shadow of a woman dancing by herself outside at night in front of a swimming pool, and Crockett chased them away with a deep slug of bourbon and signaled for another drink. “Maybe that's part of the reason I hate dancing so much,” he muttered, looking down at the dark liquid swirling in his glass. “Too many damned memories.” Tubbs and his lady vanished into the swirling pool of dancers, so Sonny kept scanning the edges of the crowd and the people at the bar. Looking for familiar faces. Players. Old scores. Anything out of the ordinary signifying a threat. Out of habit he tapped a Lucky Strike out of the pack in his pocket and lit it, the battered Ronson flaring bright for a moment until he snapped the cover shut. The smoke felt good, though it always drew him back to the tight streets of Da Nang for a moment. Luckies had been the smoke of choice in C-rations, and he'd never totally kicked the habit. Or the preference. Thinking of Vietnam pushed something out of the far corners of his memory.Robbie! I wonder if he's still got his club. That might be a good source for us. And I do owe him a visit. After all, I'm the godfather of his son.He'd tried to bury so much of his time in Vietnam, closing the door on it like it was a life belonging to another person. But it never worked. Not at night, when he'd snap awake from a firefight dream. Or now, when he realized he'd cut someone out of his life who had been important back then. Who was still important now. Castillo's right, as usual. The past is who we are, and how we deal with it defines us now. And by that standard I'm a major asshole. A flash of silver showed him where Tubbs and his lady were in the sea of dancers, and he knew there was no way he'd pry Rico away now. Besides, he'd rather have Stan do a quick check first before showing up and looking like a bigger ass than he was already. After over four years that wasn't going to be easy. Especially since he'd promised to stay in touch just before the ambulance took Robbie away. “No going back,” he muttered, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs and letting it hiss out his nose. Tubbs boogied back from the floor, the girl trailing along behind him with a smile on her face. “Give me another scotch and whatever the lady wants!” he shouted at the bartender over the music. “Mikko, this is Sonny. My business associate while I'm in from New York.” Sonny inclined his head in a slight nod. “Pleasure.” “Rico's a crazy man!” Her voice was high and pitched to break glass in the right circumstances. “But I'm a crazy girl so it's super!” She looked at the bartender. “Long Island Ice Tea for me!” Sonny handed over another twenty. “Keep the change. And keep them in drinks.” The girl was even prettier up close, with a trim, athletic build and sparkling brown eyes. When Tubbs slipped his arm around her she giggled. “We dance more?” “You got it, pretty lady. We dance all you want.” Tubbs shot Sonny a glance over her head and winked. “You from around here?” “I'm a grad student.” She grabbed her drink from the bartender and took a healthy swallow. “Advertising.” “Solid. I'm in marketing myself.” Tubbs grinned again. “International sales and distribution mostly.” She turned to Sonny. “What do you do?” “Labor relations, darlin'.” “That sounds boring.” Her eyes changed as she marked Sonny dull and turned back to Rico. “Let's dance, Rico!” The bartender had been circling close, and he came over as soon as Rico and Mikko moved away. “Word to the wise,” he said, barely audible over the crashing music, “she's got a boyfriend. Maybe pimp, I don't know. Big bastard. Sometimes he shows up, sometimes he don't.” “Thanks.” Sonny left a hundred on the bar. “Get me another Black Jack and let me know when that dries up.” Shifting to get a better view of the dance floor, he settled in to wait. Waiting was always easier with a target in mind. The music was starting to give him a low-level headache when he saw the guy come in. He wasn't hard to spot: like the bartender said he was a big bastard, bigger than the guy on the door, and had less fashion sense than Switek. His tux jacket was too small, his pants too big, and neither one matched his shirt or shoes. Even Larry Zito wouldn't have worn combat boots with tux pants, but this guy was. His dark hair was cut short, almost a buzz cut, and Sonny saw him checking out the dance floor as soon as he came in. Behind him he heard the bartender say “That's him” in a voice intended to carry no further than the front of the bar. “No shit, pal. He is a big bastard. Looks dumber than a crate of anvils, too.” Sonny pushed away from the bar. “Don't hit that button I know you have behind the bar unless he starts hurting other people. I'll handle this.” “Yes sir, Mr. Burnett. Benny at the door told me about you.” Sonny just nodded, crushing out his cigarette in one of the ashtrays on the bar without taking his eyes off the big fellow. He must have spotted Rico and Mikko, because he left the rail with surprising speed for someone so big and started bulling his way across the dance floor. Plotting an intercept course, Sonny slid his hand under his black blazer and unfastened the snap over the big .45 with a practiced thumb. He hoped he didn't have to shoot the moron, but was prepared for anything. Mongo was so focused on Tubbs and the girl he didn't notice Sonny moving up behind him. The 4506 filled his hand now, light from the strobes glinting off the dull stainless steel pistol. Jamming it into the big man's back right around his liver, Sonny spoke over the music. “Feel that, pal? That's a .45 that will blow a hole the size of a baseball through your body. We're turning around and going back outside. You try anything stupid and I will pull the trigger. Nod if you understand.” The big head moved in something close to a nod, and he saw the body stiffen. “Don't even think about it, pal. You'll be dead before you can move. She's not worth spending the rest of your miserable life in a wheelchair for, is she? Or dying for? Because those are your only options if you don't turn around right now.” Benny met them at the door with another man almost his size. “This asshole giving you problems, Mr Burnett?” “He was about to interrupt some business.” Mongo started to open his mouth when Benny slapped him across the face. “You don't ever interrupt Mr. Burnett's business. You got that?” When the man nodded Benny looked over. “You want him gone?” Sonny knew what Benny meant even if the big idiot didn't and shook his head. “Naw. Just remind him of his place in the world. He shows up here again I might change my mind about that, though.” Jamming the pistol back in its holster, he turned back toward the club. He was almost inside when he heard the thud of fists connecting with flesh and Benny saying in a voice you'd normally use to comment on the weather “You're lucky, asshole. I've seen Mr. Burnett kill for less.” Back in the club he signaled for another drink, watching the door and content to let Tubbs grind on Mikko for as long as he wanted. Even though he didn't remember much of it, he knew Benny was telling the truth. As Burnett he hadkilled for less, and done so more than once. And he'd thought about it once they were outside, wondering how many men the big thug had hurt or even killed. Like Charlie, except he used his fists instead of a gunhe thought, remembering Charlie Barnett and the sociopath Callie who pulled his strings. Was Mikko the same kind of woman, or was it just some kind of thrill for her? Maybe it was time to rein Cooper in before Rico fell into the same kind of trap. Although by the time Benny and his twin were finished he doubted the big man would be a threat to anyone for some time. The bartender could have been reading his mind. “Your associate's safe now, Mr. Burnett. I think the guy just likes to kick the shit out of people. He ain't too damned smart, and I know Benny's wanted to beat the crap out of him for some time now. Just never had a good enough reason until tonight.” “Good.” Sonny laid three hundreds on the bar. “That's for the three of you. I pay well for good work.” He narrowed his eyes. “But don't think about keeping all three for yourself. I'll find out, and I don't like people who cheat me.” “You...you can bet they'll get theirs, Mr. Burnett. You don't have to worry about that.” The bartender poured him another drink, and Sonny could see his hand shaking as some Jack Daniel's splashed on the bar. “This one's on the house.” Nodding, he picked up the glass and turned back to his vigil. There were enough ghosts chasing themselves in his head now he didn't feel like meeting anyone tonight. But that didn't mean he had to rain to Tubbs' parade. Rubbing his eyes, he felt the edge of the bar against the small of his back and a pounding in his head from the non-stop bass pulsing through the club's sound system. From time to time he caught a flash of Mikko's silver dress and knew Tubbs was somewhere close by. His dark Armani suit made him vanish in the flickering strobes, but now and then Sonny caught a flash of Rolex or glitter from a ring letting him track his partner. According to his own watch it was just after two when Tubbs lead a sweaty Mikko off the dance floor and back to bar. “I think I'm about boogied out,” he said with a laugh when they got closer. “Another drink and I'm ready to leave.” “You sure can dance, Rico.” Mikko giggled again, but Sonny noticed her eyes darting from the door to the bar and back again. Like she was looking for someone. “If you're looking for the big guy you might want to check out back.” Sonny nodded toward the door. “He got a bit rude so my two big friends sent him packing. I expect he's got a good headache going right now.” Her eyes went wide. “Johnny! What did you do to him?” “Nothing he wasn't going to do to Rico. You best be careful who you play games with, lady.” Breaking away from the bar, the girl headed for the door. Tubbs watched her tight backside, his face twisting into a frown. “What the hell was that, Sonny?” “Remember that Callie girl? Well, instead of a skinny guy with a gun she had some big goon with no neck. I don't know what her game was, but the bartender warned me about him and I sent him on his way. Benny and his buddy on the door kicked the crap out of him.” “Damn. Why are all the fine ones crazy?” “That, Rico, is the question for the ages, ain't it? Have another drink and see if she comes back. If not, let's blow this pop stand.” The sun was well overhead and the summer heat had Miami firmly in its sweaty grip when Sonny eased the Ferrari up to the curb and waited for Tubbs to come down. If Tubbs had a hangover anything like his it would be a quiet drive to the Task Force office. Tubbs climbed into the car, his sunglasses in place. “Damn! It's too hot and too bright and too early.” “I see you did as well as I did last night.” Crockett eased the car into traffic, driving with more care than usual. Even the air conditioning seemed loud. “Maybe it's a good thing Mikko turned out to be crazy.” “Yeah. Would have liked to find out just how crazy, though.” Tubbs laughed, then winced. “Shows I can still pick 'em, eh, partner?” “You and me both, Tubbs. You and me both.” The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence, Tubbs looking out the window and rubbing his temples and Sonny focused on the road and cars around them. It was a relief to roll into the shade of the underground garage, and they sat in the car for a few moments soaking up the last hint of air conditioning before making the walk to the elevator and heading upstairs. Castillo was waiting for them, his face frozen in its usual mask of vague disapproval. “Any news?” “Nothing new, lieutenant. Tubbs is going to call Pedrosa in the next hour or so, and I had something I wanted to see if Stan could run down if he was here.” “He and Trudy are checking on some properties owned by Moreno's uncle. If they hit another dry hole I think they'll head back.” Castillo shook his head. “Who knew Orosco owned so many properties in the Keys?” “Gotta launder that dog money somewhere.” Tubbs took off his sunglasses, winced, and put them back on. “I wouldn't expect him to be dumb enough to invest in Izzy's shoes.” “I hope last night turned up something other than hangovers and expense account entries.” Castillo looked from one detective to the other. Sonny shook his head. “Not enough. We hit a couple of clubs as Burnett and Cooper just to establish we're in town and looking to deal. Tubbs here almost got turned into hamburger by some meathead and his girl lure, but that turned out ok. It let me reestablish Burnett with a couple of guys who are on the margins but can spread the word.” “We don't know if she was targeting Cooper specifically or if I just wandered into view.” Tubbs poured himself coffee from the pot and took a tentative sip. “Sonny talked to the bartender and he said he's seen them running this game before. She said her name was Mikko and she called the big guy Jimmy.” “I never got his name,” Crockett confessed as he followed Tubbs to the coffee. “But the bartender and the door guy knew him well enough. I walked him outside and the door man and his partner took care of things. Doorman's named Benny and used to work one of Burnett's shipping runs. Strictly muscle but knows it and doesn't make waves.” “I'll reach out to Metro-Dade and see if they have anything on them. And we should have Lester here by tomorrow morning.” “Good.” Crockett nodded, feeling the effects of the coffee on his head and eyes. “That'll take a load off Stan.” “We have new intel as well.” Castillo motioned for them to sit before taking his habitual spot at the head of the table. “Pedrosa's up to something. He's been calling in people from upstate and asking about carrying capacity. Detective Joplin thinks he's getting ready to move a large part of the cocaine they're sitting on, but she can't tell where. ATF also picked up some chatter from the other side of the pipeline. They can't tell what Holmes is up to because they don't have anyone in his organization, but the people they have on the edges say he's looking to set up some kind of big buy.” “And that will put more pressure on Pedrosa to make some big sales and soon.” Tubbs nodded. “Makes sense.” “It is critical that you hook him when you call him.” Castillo looked up, fixing Tubbs with his iron stare. “He cannot slip off the hook.” “He won't, lieutenant. You have my word on that.” Sonny just nodded, sipping his coffee and watching the exchange. He had no doubt Tubbs would hook Pedrosa. When he was playing Cooper he could deal like no other. Still, it was a game needing careful playing. “I'll be ready to lean in if needed.” Stan Switek eased the Bug Van over another set of washboard and potholes and grimaced. “You'd think with all that money Izzy's damned uncle could take better care of the road.” “Maybe it's to keep people out, Stan.” Trudy Joplin grimaced as she held onto the van's door handle as they rolled over another set of ridges and holes. “Well it's not very nice of him and that's all I've got say about it.” Stan grinned, the smile going well with another of his bright Hawaiian shirts, this one mostly yellow and green splotched in some kind of leaf or pineapple pattern. Even Stan wasn't sure which. Trudy just nodded. She'd skipped her usual dress and gone with tight jeans and a dark t-shirt in case they had to chase anyone. “All I know,” she'd announced as she climbed into the Bug Van, “is if I have to chase Izzy that fool is going to hope he never planned to have kids when I catch him.” This was the last of three houses they planned to check today. The other two had been close to the paved road; simple vacation cabins looking to be rented out by oldsters from up north and not hiding anything other than stashes of adult diapers and maybe a case or two of hair dye. But this one really looked to be a fishing shack stuck out at the end of a winding, rutted dirt road. Stan couldn't see Izzy in a place like this, but maybe that was the point. Trudy pointed through the dust-covered windshield. “There! I can see the cabin up there.” “Manny wasn't kidding. That is a damned shack.” Tires grabbed and slid on gravel as Stan applied the brakes, bringing the Bug Van to a shuddering stop. His stainless steel Browning Hi-Power slapped his side in its shoulder holster as he clambered out. “Let's walk the last bit. Izzy won't be armed. He's more likely to shoot himself if he is, and even his uncle must know that.” Trudy nodded, drawing her own weapon. In the past she'd carried a .38 revolver, but now Stan noticed she'd upgraded to a Safari Arms Matchmaster in .45 ACP. With the hammer back and the safety on, just like Stan's Browning her pistol was 'cocked and locked' and ready to go with a flip of the safety. Meeting Stan's gaze, she nodded. “You take the door. I'll cover the side and back in case the little bozo's there and tries to run.” Stan nodded, looking again toward the structure. It really wasn't much more than a clapboard shack tucked in some scrub trees within walking distance of the surf and a rickety dock. It looked like the kind of place Hemingway would have drunk himself to oblivion in, all the while cursing about the fish and throwing empty bottles at seagulls. Picking his way over exposed roots and other debris, Stan made his way to the rough board porch. One look told him not to trust his bulk to it, so he stayed in the sand and settled for shouting. “Izzy! Get your skinny ass out here! It's Stan! Don't pretend you're not in there. I can smell your sweat from here!” “Switek?” The reedy voice drew out the first two letters of his name into some kind of mutant syllable. “What are joo doing out here? I'm working on my literaraturary masterpiece.” “I thought you ran out of coloring books! Now get your ass out here! And don't try going out the back. Trudy would be more than happy to shoot you.” “How could ju implicate such a thing?” The door opened a crack, and a thin face framed by lank, greasy hair peered out into the sunlight. “Ju two are alone? No heet squads following you?” “No, you moron. Now get out here before I lose my patience and make you run in front of the van.” Stan grinned as Trudy appeared around the side of the house. “For ju of course I come out. Beesness is beesness. Iacoca.” “I don't think he ever said that.” Trudy kept her .45 pointed somewhere between the ground and Izzy's midsection. “Now get out here so we can get back to some proper air conditioning. This heat is murder on my hair.” “All right. All right. Don't get extracated. I'm coming.” “You mean excited, you little...” Trudy sighed. “Just hurry up.” Stan pulled a radio out of his back pocket. “We got the freak package, lieutenant. Bringing it home.” He waited for a reply and then tucked the radio away again. “Come on, Moreno! There's too many damned bugs out here for it to be healthy.” Izzy Moreno stepped out on the porch, the weathered boards creaking under his slight weight. His once-white tuxedo had weathered like the boards to a disreputable gray tinged with pink, and the cheap knock-off black leather shoes on his feet had seen better days three years ago. In some kind of concession to the ocean he wore a captain's cap faded the same color as his tux, and he clutched a tattered leather briefcase of unknown origin in his right hand. “Ok. I am your prisoner. Take me to jore leader. I go to my politicalist detention knowing my constillational rights...” “Oh, shut up and get in the damned van!” Stan grabbed Izzy by a skinny arm and almost tossed him in the general direction. “Trudy, you want to drive so I can keep this idiot quiet?” “If it means not hearing him until we get back, yes.” Trudy holstered her pistol and took the keys from Stan's outstretched hand. “I can see why Tubbs always wants to shoot him.” “We're taking him to OCB. Crockett and Tubbs will meet us there.” Stan lowered his voice. “The lieutenant doesn't want Izzy to see Task Force.” She nodded. “It's also closer, meaning less time with Cuba's prime export to Miami.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don't think he's showered in a week.” “Ju are correct.” Izzy caught up with them. “The water, she has flourides in her. Ju know what that does to jore manhood? Switek...ju must know.” “Yeah. It means you don't smell like a ten month old jockstrap and women actually want to see 'jore manhood.' Come on, Izzy. Where do you get this garbage?” “It's all true. I read it in the bes' paper in the world. The Weekly World News.” “God help us.” Stan slapped his forehead. “Get in the damned van, Izzy. Now!” Even with the windows down and the air conditioning on full blast, Stan and Trudy had to breathe through their mouths the entire way back to OCB. Trudy parked the van and shut off the engine. “I'm not going in there with him.” “Fine. I'll take him in and leave him with Crockett and Tubbs. No way I'm staying in the room with him.” Stan opened the door and walked around to the back of the van. “Come on, Moreno. Some old pals want to talk to you.”

And we've come to the end of my little 'what if' for the team. I've left some things open, just in case I decide to continue with the little tale. Hope everyone enjoyed it. It was just after noon the next day when Tubbs got the magic page from Moncado. They'd all gathered for the daily roundtable, and Castillo raised his hand to indicate Tubbs should return the call before they got started. Hitting buttons to make the call look like it was coming from a room in the Grand Hotel, Tubbs waited and then spoke. “Mr. Moncado! Yes, the deal went fine. Your man Jorge was a bit of a surprise, but I understand you had other business....Yes, my people were very happy with the shipment, both in terms of quantity and quality. They're looking to increase their order, and are willing to adjust the price up if the quality remains this high...A meeting? At your house? Of course. And you'd like Burnett to come as well? I'm sure that can be arranged.” Tubbs pretended to write down the address on his pad and then read it back. “Tomorrow around noon? We'll be there. And I expect Burnett will want to bring his two friends as well...I'm sure he means no insult. It's just business down here. Of course. Thank you for understanding.” “So we're in.” Sonny's eyes lit up. Trudy smiled. “Mindy and I will let the cat out of the bag, then. We think Maynard's in the country, or is about to come in. There's been no traffic to the Peru number since yesterday, but we did get one call in to Moncado from an airport in Columbia. Another call went to Holmes, the arms dealer, at about the same time. Then we picked up one more to Holmes from one of those sketchy airstrips in the Bahamas. All quiet ever since, but it's a straight line from there to the Keys. And Moncado has his own landing strip. Not big enough to handle a plane, but it can easily accommodate a helicopter. And seaplanes or float planes can use his dock.” Castillo nodded. “Make one last contact with Moreno. I need to know if he's heard anything about more foreign guns or someone hiring more shooters in the last two days. But that can wait until after this meeting. Trudy, Dave and Randy will want everything you have on Moncado's house. Mindy, please ask the marshal's office if they can hold that tactical team on alert starting tomorrow around 1000. We can't stage close to the house. The Keys don't have room for that.” “They have choppers. We can get the team from the office to anywhere in the Keys inside of fifteen minutes.” “Thank you. Let him know it's close hold, but we will be moving on Maynard tomorrow. We'll need arrest warrants and anything else you feel is appropriate.” She nodded, writing on her pad. Castillo's eyes blazed with a focused intensity. “Moncado tried to hurt us. Tomorrow we will take him and his boss down. Once we have those plans, take as much time as you need to plan. Crockett, Tubbs, Randy and Dave will be the first entry group. They'll be expecting you. Trudy, Mindy and I will enter the area a bit before. Not close enough to draw attention, but close enough to react the second things go down. We should be able to look like lost tourists without too much trouble.” Sonny chuckled, trying to picture Castillo in a bathing suit looking lost. Picturing Mindy in a bikini was another thing entirely, and he pushed that image out of his mind. “So he was cool with Dave and Randy coming in, Rico?” “Yes and no.” “If you don't mind, boss, I think Dave and I would rather find an overwatch position. We can go in while it's still dark and get set up.” Randy grinned. “You should know by now that our one useful skill is staying in one place for hours.” Castillo nodded. “Did Moncado say this was a social call?” “More or less. He said we were celebrating the start of a great friendship.” “Then I can go in with Dave and Randy. Mindy and Trudy will be your dates. It wouldn't look right if you showed up at a drug party without women.” Trudy smiled. “I'll help you pick out a dress, Mindy. I know you've done UC before, but these cartel parties are different.” Sonny nodded. “I like the idea of overwatch. I always feel better when someone's covering my back. And if they've got any heavy artillery in there you can pick 'em off before they get in the game.” Castillo looked around the table. “Keep in mind this is a trap, but we're not supposed to know it's a trap. It's no coincidence this call came just after Maynard might have arrived in country. He's the objective of this entire operation. Do not kill him unless there is no other option. We want him alive.” Randy looked down the table. “What about Moncado?” “He's secondary.” Castillo looked around. “He would be good to arrest, but the men in that compound are likely his men. If he goes down, they will loose their tactical cohesion and will to fight. That makes Maynard easier to take alive.” “Roger that.” Randy turned back to his notes. Sonny blinked. That was as close as he'd ever heard Castillo come to issuing a shoot on sight order. But he couldn't argue with the reasoning behind it. Moncado was dangerous as hell, and it was likely fear of him that kept his men on the same page. Remove that fear, and they were just another collection of thugs with automatic weapons they likely hadn't used in real combat conditions before. Trudy brought out a set of blueprints and a blow-up of another Metro-Dade aerial photograph and laid them on the table. At that moment the reality of what was happening hit Sonny right between the eyes. He was finally going to get a real shot at Maynard. Not some chase from a distance. Not something where an alphabet soup Federal agency would swoop in to rescue him. This time they were going to be allowed to finish the job. The thought settled warm in his stomach like a good shot of bourbon, spreading out through his entire body. It was a feeling he hadn't know for years, reminding him why he'd become a cop in the first place. Castillo's voice brought him back to the room. “These are the construction blueprints of the house. There's no guarantee Moncado hasn't made modifications to the interior since then. The photo was taken last week, so everything should be the same. There's a map if you need it, but I think the picture will be enough for planning.” Randy moved closer, switching to an empty chair near the head of the table. “Looks like he cut back some of the undergrowth near the wall. Got any specs on that?” Trudy looked at her notes. “According to the permit it's eight feet tall. Brick covered with stucco or plaster. More decorative than anything else.” “Good. The photo makes it look like there's a bit of a rise over toward the south, with a good view of the front and rear courtyards. Is that accurate?” “Yes.” Castillo's voice was firm. “According to the topo the rise is about thirty feet with a gentle incline. You'd be about three hundred yards from the furthest part of the courtyard there.” “Outstanding. We'll try to set up there first, with alternate sites along the incline unless there's no good vision. It looks like he planned his security for a close-in fight and never considered any sniper threat.” “That's standard drug dealer procedure.” Sonny spoke as his eyes shifted from the plan to the photo and back again. “They like to rush each other with MAC-10s or UZIs. Distance shooting is like going to the moon for them. They see it on TV but never really think to do it themselves.” “Good. We'll have the ballistic advantage out to three hundred or four hundred yards then. If his boys are anything like those goofs we saw at the warehouse I don't think they can hit anything with those AKs past one hundred years.” Randy nodded. “I'll pack an M-14 to back up Dave on the long gun. We'll be using the same ammo, and I can drop them with iron sights at that range if numbers start to turn on us.” He chuckled. “And if it gets close, we've got our .45s and there will be AKs to pick up if we've had more than a minute to work.” “And there's just the one road in?” Sonny looked at the photo, narrowing his eyes to block reflections from the fluorescent tubes overhead. “Yes.” Mindy nodded, letting Trudy sort through some more notes. “He's got the helipad, but there's no helicopter registered in his name or any of his shell companies that we know about. I think it's there more for VIPs. His dock's got a couple of boats, but none of them fast enough to outrun your Scarab. Or the Coast Guard. We'll have one of their drug interception boats on standby just in case someone tries to get away by water. The Navy's got some kind of patrol plane working the coast as part of their narcotics surveillance program, so if anything takes off from the compound we can track it in real time and know where they're going.” Trudy finished sorting her papers. “We think Moncado's got at least twenty guards in the compound. They're a mix of local help and some of his Columbians, about a fifty-fifty split. At least that's what we think. There's no direct surveillance of the compound, but we do have a functioning tap there and have been monitoring radio transmissions. They use hand radios to communicate, so we have a rough idea of watch patterns. They don't work the area outside the wall much at all, but there's a guy in the cupola on the top of the second floor with binoculars who's supposed to be keeping watch. Radio chatter makes us think it's a popular napping spot, though. The house is far enough out no one really goes near it unless they have business.” Sonny looked around the table. “We've got less than twenty-four hours to get this right. Let's plan out a few things. See what works and what doesn't. It all goes out the window as soon as we drive down that road, but it's good to have plans. We'll take the Caddy, since even I can't fit four people in the Ferrari. I don't think Trudy and Mindy would appreciate riding on our laps all the way there.” He waited for the chuckles to die down. “There's a gate, so we'll have to stop and wait to be let in. They might frisk us, but it's hard to say. If Maynard's already made me he might let that slide so we come in thinking everything's cool.” Tubbs nodded. “Yeah. Moncado and Pedrosa never patted us down. If they did it now it would look off. Maynard's a careful bastard. He wouldn't want to tip his hand, and he knows Sonny has good instincts.” Sonny stared at the photograph. Thinking. Trying to put himself in Maynard's head. Or Burnett's. “I think he'll try to get us in one of the courtyards. Something open where all his men can see him take me down. It sends a better message that way. And he can prove his manhood, his strength, to them with a nice public display. Maynard's all about that.” Castillo cleared his throat. “I agree. That's why overwatch is so important. I can get close to the wall without them knowing I'm there, and I only need a couple of seconds to get into the compound. Dave, Randy and I will all have radios. You four will not. It's a risk, but we don't have a choice.” Sonny nodded. “That means we have to plan for what happens after the first shot. I'm guessing Dave will engage first because of the range, but in any case we need to know what we'll do when that first guy dies. We'll have a couple of seconds, because they won't be expecting it. We will. That's vital in this kind of a fight.” He looked around. “We'll only have pistols, so we need to stay close and in cover to hold any advantage. If they pin us down, we're screwed until the tactical team shows up. We also won't have unlimited ammo, so blazing away like a bad Chuck Norris movie won't help a bit. Pick your shots and make them count.” Tubbs nodded. “I've got less range and firepower than the rest of you, but I have the advantage that Maynard might not want to kill me. He'll be after Sonny, so all his attention will be there.” Mindy chewed on her lower lip. “We're cutting it close, aren't we?” “We don't have a choice.” Sonny kept staring at the photo, trying to turn the two-dimensional image into a real world view in his head. “There's no good way to get more people into that compound. And if I take Dave and Randy in we lose the advantage they give us. So we go with what we have.” Trudy smiled. “You know I qualified Expert last time on the range, Sonny.” “I know you two can shoot. Don't get me wrong. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather take in there. It's just we can't bring Dave and Randy as well.” “Take the rest of the day. Work on it. Sonny, see if you can get Moreno on the phone. He's supposed to be checking in. Make him earn his pay.” Castillo pushed back from the table. “I'll make some calls and coordinate with the Coast Guard and Navy. Take some of the load off Mindy.” Once he left the room, Dave turned to Sonny. “Doesn't he need to be in on the plan?” “You haven't seen Castillo work yet, have you?” Sonny gestured toward the closed office door. “The man's a ghost. They won't know he's there. Hell, we won't know he's there. Not until he wants us to know. I've never seen a man who's better in the woods than he is.” “Good to know. So we don't need to worry about him?” “Not a bit. But we do need to think about what happens when things get close.” “We'll come to you.” Randy's voice was firm. “I'll have an M-14 like I said, and we can get one for Dave, too. Leave the bolt gun on the hill and come down to your position. That way we don't have to switch ammo and will be in the fight if you need us close-in.” He smiled. “I've got some medic training, too. Just in case.” “Good to know.” Sonny grinned back. “Hopefully we won't need it.” “I'll have the aid bag just in case. Being prepared ain't just for Boy Scouts, you know.” “How do you want us paired off?” Trudy was also looking at the photo. “Moncado's an old-school racist, right? Let's mess with his head. Trudy, you're with me and Mindy you back up Tubbs. Anything that gets him off his game even a little bit is cool with me.” Mindy giggled. “I like it. Plus I'm from Boston so I can sound Yankee enough for Tubbs.” “Solid.” Tubbs grinned. “I'll lay on the New York thick. If he asks, my associates sent you down to coordinate the details. That should really fry his pea-brain.” “Trudy, you'll be one of Burnett's enforcers.” Sonny smiled. “Just lay on that Miami street act of yours and he won't know any better.” “I like it. Better than being some high-end hooker any day.” They spent the rest of the afternoon going over the blueprints and photo, ordering food in just before five. Sonny took a break to call Izzy, and came back shaking his head. “Cuba's gift to Miami says he hasn't heard anything new. There's still a freeze on weapons sales, and someone definitely told the Columbians to lay low. He's confirmed it from two different sources. Or so he says. But I think he's being straight with us. He sounded scared, and any time Moreno's scared he's telling the truth.” “No one's trying to hire?” “He says no. But Moncado might think he has enough guys. We counted at least ten at the buy, and they all looked to be Columbians.” They ate in relative silence. The takeout Chinese was good, even though for Sonny it brought back memories of other briefings in the heat and smell of Da Nang. He suspected it did the same for Randy and Dave. The two snipers got quiet during the meal, looking from time to time at the documents and adding notes to their pads. Outside the sun slowly sank behind buildings, casting long shadows over streets baked hot from the day, and they kept working. The streetlights had kicked on at least an hour before when Sonny finally called a break. “I think we've stared at this crap long enough,” he said, sighing and pushing back from the table. He could smell the remains of stir-fry coming from the white cardboard container in front of him even though the air was hazy from cigarette smoke. He and Dave both smoked, although Dave preferred Camels. “We got our loadouts picked for tomorrow?” Trudy and Mindy both nodded. “We'll have our pistols and extra magazines in our purses,” Mindy announced after seeing Trudy nod. “Two mags each in addition to the loaded one. Maybe three depending on the size of the purses.” “I'll have the old wheel gun. Too late to change now.” Sonny looked to Dave and Randy, who just nodded. Then he said, “I'll have the two .45s. Three mags total for the 4506 but only one for the Detonics. It's a back-up, so I may not have to use it. I know it ain't great, but it's what we have.” Castillo came out of his office. “Go home, everyone. Get some sleep. You'll need it for tomorrow. The Coast Guard has been briefed, and the Navy agreed to keep an eye on the Keys for us from 1000 until about 1400. Then they have to pull the plane off station.” “We should be done by then,” Crockett said, not adding the 'one way or another' that floated around in his head. Stars danced like multi-colored diamonds scattered on a black velvet tabletop. Sonny Crockett sat in the stern of the St Vitus Dance, nursing a single shot of Jack Daniel's over ice and going back though everything that had happed in the last few weeks. Vellamo's spot was still empty, and part of him was glad. He wanted to be alone tonight, to take stock. His promise to Gina still hung heavy, even though Stan was getting better every day. Tomorrow he'd have his chance to make good on his word, and he had no lingering doubt that he could. He was comfortable with the team, knowing the deputy marshals would more than hold up their end of things. Dave and Randy were scary good, and he had a good feeling about Mindy. She'd watch Tubbs' back, no question. And he'd keep Trudy safe or die trying. He owed Castillo that much. More, maybe. It had been hard, letting go of his selfish side and trying to see the team first. Kicking the wide receiver ego to the side and falling back on his training as a Marine and learning all those lessons others had tried to teach him over the years. Most of all he remembered Evan's last words. “Now it's your turn, Sonny.” At the time he'd thought Evan was telling him it was his turn to catch a bullet, but now he understood. Evan had been telling him it was his turn to be a man. To get wisdom and learn from his mistakes. He'd thought about it before, but he'd also decided he needed to remember that talk every time a big operation came up. Going below, he unlocked the small safe in the aft stateroom and took out the necklace with Caitlin's wedding ring. Fastening it around his neck, he went back up to watch the stars. Sonny wasn't much for pre-game rituals or superstitions, but he wanted Caitlin with him tomorrow. To see how it all ended, one way or the other. This time the only way Maynard was getting away was by stepping over Sonny Crockett's dead body. The road to Moncado's estate in the Keys was well-maintained. Sonny had to give the man that. He sat in the back of the big Cadillac with Trudy, listening as Tubbs regaled Mindy with stories of his antics with Armed Robbery back in the Bronx. He could feel his own tension building into a knot in his stomach, knowing it would fade to nothing as soon as the estate gate came into view. Randy, Dave, and Castillo had left hours before, each man camouflaged to blend into the terrain around the estate. The two snipers had their long guns and pistols, while Castillo strapped on his habitual Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 Magnum and a long, wicked combat knife. “Good luck,” was all he said before they drove off into the rising dawn light, and Sonny sensed Trudy's worry. “He'll be fine,” he said to her again in the car as they drove down the hardpacked dirt road. “I've never met a man more at home in this than Marty.” “I know. I wouldn't have worried before. But now...” “But now he's got even more reason to be good. And careful.” He patted her thigh gently. “Don't worry about him, Trudy. He'd want you to focus on the operation.” Tubbs stopped in mid-story. “Heads up. I can see the gate and there's two guys waiting for us.” “Showtime.” Sonny fought the urge to unsnap his pistol in the shoulder rig. There could be no sudden moves. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing to tip Maynard off. It all had to look normal. They had the top up because of the dust from the road, so Tubbs rolled down his window as the guards walked up. “Mr. Cooper. I'm expected.” The guard looked in the car, then raised his hand radio and spoke quickly in Spanish. He looked again and spoke. “He say two, but you have four.” Tubbs grinned. “It's a celebration, man. You think we'd come without dates?” Mindy giggled and shifted, her top pulling tight. “Mr. Cooper brought me all the way down from New York for this. He's so sweet, isn't he?” The guard looked confused and spoke into the radio again. He held it to his ear, eyes narrowing as he listened. “Is ok. You go ahead.” Turning, he made a circle over his head to the man at the gate. Nodding, he dragged the gate open and waved Tubbs forward. Crockett had seen the pictures and the blueprints, but he hadn't been really ready for what they saw looming up out of a curtain of ornamental hedges and shrubs. The house, two stories plus the cupola over the wing with the bedrooms, looked like it had been lifted out of Mexico or Spain. Whitewashed walls with high, narrow windows dominated a sweeping staircase leading to dark oak double doors at the end of the front courtyard, and a walkway framed with more hedges led to the back courtyard. Palm trees marked the edges of the court, their fronds swaying in the ever-present breeze. Tubbs parked where the inside guards indicated and shut off the big car. “Let's do this,” he muttered before he opened the door and climbed out into the heat. Mindy followed suit, her hair set off nicely by a light blue skintight dress Trudy had helped her pick. Sonny scrambled out of the back seat, putting on his sunglasses and buttoning the bottom button of his dark gray blazer. Trudy got out last, her legs highlighted by a pair of dark jeans and calf boots. Her top was loose, with a tight t-shirt underneath. 'My kick-ass look' was how she'd described it, and Sonny thought it was perfect. Two men came down the shaded walkway. He recognized the bulk of Jorge, but the other man was taller and thinner, looking more like an officer in aviator sunglasses and a loose white silk shirt. It was the tall one who spoke. “Mr. Moncado awaits, gentlemen and ladies. Please follow me.” “Nice digs he's got here.” Rico kept his voice light as he followed the two men. Sonny fell in after Mindy, trying to ignore the way she moved in the dress as well as the AK-47s slung over the backs of Moncado's two errand boys. “It'll do,” Sonny replied, trying to get under Jorge's skin again. The back courtyard was dominated by a fountain sending rainbows across the manicured lawn as sunlight caught the water droplets scattered by the breeze. The back porch was surrounded by what looked to be a marble railing supported by solid pillars and elevated about six feet above the lawn. A curving staircase led up, but Sonny could see a knot of men at tables set up near the fountain. One of them he recognized right away as Moncado. The others looked to be Columbians of the same kind as the punk in the aviator sunglasses. There was no sign of Maynard, but Sonny hadn't expected to see him this soon. Moncado raised his arms and walked toward them. “Cooper! I trust your people were pleased with the product!” “Very! That's why they sent the lovely Miranda down. She's part of our business team and will help set up the details for a longer-term arrangement.” Moncado smiled, and Sonny could see him undressing Mindy with his eyes. “And Burnett. Who did you bring?” “My head of security. Peaches.” Trudy nodded. “But you can call me Miss Peaches. Last fool who tried otherwise is singing soprano now, if you get my meaning.” Moncado looked at her for a long moment and then laughed. It was a loud thing, echoing off the back wall of the house and startling birds perched in the nearby palms. “I like your attitude, Miss Peaches. You have excellent taste in help, Burnett.” “Thanks.” Sonny could sense the guards moving in, trying to break them into smaller groups. The little spiders were back and doing a jig up and down his spine. He gave Trudy a quick look and shifted so he stayed close to Rico and Mindy. If they managed to separate the team they'd lose their coordination. Moncado laughed again and turned back to the tables. “Come! Let us celebrate this deal.” He was about to say something else when one of the guards hurried over and whispered something in his ear. His face changed for an instant, a cloud of anger washing over before it was replaced with the usual synthetic smile. “It seems one of my men has fallen asleep or something and isn't answering his radio. But no worries. Jorge will check it out. Won't you, Jorge?” Jorge looked like he'd rather submit to a root canal without any painkillers, but nodded like an obedient dog and moved off through a hole in the hedge line, followed by the man with the radio. Sonny exchange a look with Trudy. Must be Castillo's work. We don't have much time. Tubbs also sensed the change. “Your hospitality is much appreciated, Mr. Moncado.” “Please, call me Tico. It is better to for friends to use first names, yes?” Sonny was about to speak when a new voice entered the conversation and the blood froze in his veins. It was the same slightly nasal, conceited twang he remembered from those visits to Pleiku. And two encounters in Miami. “He has a point, doesn't he, Sonny? Or should I say Detective Crockett? Still on the powder patrol?” William Maynard hadn't changed a bit since the last time Sonny had seen him, climbing onto a surplus C-47 carrying mercenaries bound for Nicaragua. The head was still shaved, the thick mustache still dyed an unnatural shade of black, and the arrogance still poured from the man like water from an artesian well. He stepped out on the back porch, flanked by two of Moncado's men with their AKs at the ready. Moncado looked up, his face breaking into a genuine smile. “You were right, Colonel. They were foolish enough to come.” “Don't try for that gun, Crockett. These two will drop you where you stand.” Maynard stood at the rail, resting his hands on the slick marble and trying to look down at them with authority. “That Cooper looks familiar as well, but that might just be because you all look the same.” He grinned, showing capped teeth. Tubbs twisted his face into an expression of outrage. “Are you telling me Burnett's a cop?” “He certainly is. One of Metro-Dade's finest, which isn't saying much.” Maynard chuckled. “You inconvenienced me last time we met, Sonny. But I did get to square things with that pest Stone. Never trust a junkie.” Sonny tried to look downcast. “So kill me already and be done with it.” “Oh, I will. But not just now.” He looked down at Moncado. “Have your men take them. All of them. We need to make sure this Cooper, if that's his real name, is clean. The girls...well...I understand your men need entertainment.” Moncado nodded, raising his own radio. “Jorge, get back here. We need...” And then his head exploded in a spray of bone, blood, and brains, chased a second later by the boom of a big rifle. Now! “Go!” Sonny shouted, drawing his 4506 in a blur of motion, his thumb pushing the safety up as the pistol cleared leather. Spinning, he took a solid two-hand grip and let the front sight settle on the nearest guard and squeezed the trigger, riding the recoil and squeezing again to be sure. The man spun away in a fan of blood, the two hollowpoints tearing holes the size of baseballs in his chest. Then Sonny was sprinting for one of the marble sides of the fountain. Two more rifle shots crashed out, and two more guards spun away, confused looks on their faces and massive wounds in their chests. From the corner of his eye Sonny could see Trudy settling in next to him, and Mindy and Tubbs sprinting for the shelter of the corner of the porch. Mindy had kicked off her heels to move faster, and as Sonny watched she dropped two guards with well-placed shots from her .45. Then he had to duck as one of the guards on the porch remembered his AK, and the familiar crack-bark filled his ears and shards of marble rained down around his head and shoulders. The other guard knelt next to Maynard and started spraying the distant trees on full auto. More men looked to be coming out of the house, and he knew they were in danger of being pinned. From somewhere behind them a heavy Magnum boomed twice, its bass bellow drowning out everything but the high-powered rifles used by Randy and Dave. Martin Castillo appeared as if by magic from the hedges, smoke trailing from the long barrel of his revolver. “The rear is clear,” he announced as if he'd just stepped out of his office. Another burst shattered marble, reminding Sonny they were pinned. “Tubbs and Mindy are by the porch,” he shouted over the assault rifle's stuttering. “And we need to move. You two break for their location. I'll cover.” He waited for Trudy and Castillo to nod before counting down 3-2-1 on his fingers and then popping over the low wall, his 4506 in a solid two-hand grip. Through the haze of powder smoke he could see four men gathered at the head of the staircase, one point down to where Tubbs and Mindy had taken cover. He squeezed off four rounds in their direction, smiling when he saw one fall clutching at his gut and the other three dive for cover. His last three rounds distracted the man by Maynard, although he couldn't see the man's shining bald head anywhere. That gave Trudy an opening to sprint to her new position. Then his slide locked back and he ducked back into cover, dumping the empty magazine and pulling a fresh one out of the pouch under his right arm. He hit the slide release, feeding a round into the chamber. Then he saw Castillo. “Why didn't you go?” “We need to flank them.” His voice was flat, eyes without expression. Two more rifle shots boomed out from the hill, and sharp screams announced that someone had been hit by the accurate fire. “Dave and Randy should be moving any time now. I'll position to cover them. If we divide their attention, Maynard can't hit us with overwhelming numbers. The tactical team launched, but they're ten minutes out at best. We're on our own.” Sonny nodded, knowing Castillo was right. “You want covering fire?” “Yes. Same count.” Nodding, Sonny raised three fingers. When he folded his index finger he reared up again, firing four times at the head of the stairs and another four at Maynard's old position. Then his slide locked back and he ducked, repeating the reloading process. “Fuck,” he muttered. “Last mag.” He could hear two .45s booming from by the stairs, and the higher-pitched snaps of Rico's .38. Then a .45 spoke in rapid succession and Trudy reappeared at his side. “Where's Marty?” “He wanted to flank them. To cover for Dave and Randy. They're moving down.” Sonny looked into her eyes, seeing the stress. “He didn't ask, Trudy. He just did.” Over the barking of the AKs he heard Maynard's nasal voice. “Your long range men are dead, Sonny. I can keep throwing people at you all day long. And you don't have any backup. My people are watching the roads.” The voice echoed off the high walls of the house, so Sonny couldn't pin down a location. “Just come out and make this easy.” “Fuck you, Maynard. You don't get this one easy.” “Always difficult, aren't you, Crockett?” Maynard rambled on, but Sonny tried to tune out his voice. Instead he turned to Trudy. “How's your ammo?” She gave him a thin smile. “Last mag.” “Same for me. And the Detonics. How are Rico and Mindy?” “Low, but better than we are.” “It'll take Dave and Randy a good five minutes to get here. Maybe more if they run into any resistance. I'm pretty sure Moncado had men along the wall, too.” He flinched as the AK opened up again, showering them with marble dust and chips. “Where's Maynard?” “I don't know. That damned echo...” He was about to go on when two shots boomed out from behind them. One was the heavy bass of Castillo's .44, the other the familiar blast of a .45. Trudy looked, and her eyes went wide. “No!” Before Sonny could grab her she jumped up and sprinted down the gravel walkway to a body slumped in the shade of one of the tall hedges. Even at this distance Sonny could see a dark stain spreading from Martin Castillo's midsection. Leaning around, Sonny emptied his last magazine down the path, still squeezing the trigger uselessly after the slide locked back. Everything seemed to slow down, passing in front of his eyes like a movie set at half-speed. Trudy reaching Castillo and cradling his head in her hands. The sound of the AK stopping, its echoes thundering in the sudden silence. Smoke trailing from the muzzle and chamber of his empty Smith & Wesson. And then Maynard stepped around the hedge. “A nice try, Sonny. Really.” A custom .45 rested easy in his hand, the pearl grips catching the sunlight. He strode past Trudy, ignoring her sobs but stepping around the pool of Castillo's blood. “And that fool with his wheelgun. Really? That's an insult. And the women? Do you know what they say about a society that sends its women into battle? It's a sign of weakness. Of failure. And you've failed, Sonny.” They had one chance. Sonny knew it instinctively. Maynard was there for him. All the shooting had stopped. Maybe because Tubbs and Mindy were out of ammo, but most likely because the guards wanted to watch Maynard on stage. Sonny had seen his effect on people before. But he also knew his team had a chance if he offered himself up. He stood, the empty pistol loose in his hand. Willing Tubbs and Mindy to run. Hoping Dave and Randy had the same sense. “Here we are, Maynard. Just you and me.” “And your friends. But I don't care about them, Sonny.” He motioned behind him. “I just cut off the head. Without it...” Sonny never heard what Maynard was going to claim next. He braced himself for the impact, watching the .45 come up. But the shot never came. Instead Maynard's face exploded outwards, destroyed by a hollowpoint fired at point-blank range. His body fell like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and Sonny saw Trudy standing behind him, the slide locked back on her Matchmaster. She looked down at the mangled body with unseeing eyes, the front of her shirt dark and soaked with Castillo's blood. “Bastard.” The single word hissed through her lips and then she turned back to Castillo. The words came to Sonny's lips from somewhere deep in his memory. “Corpsman! Corpsman up!” He ran past the body, scooping up Maynard's .45 just in case. When he reached Trudy she was shaking, tears running down her cheeks as she cradled Castillo's head. Another flurry of shots came from the stairs, random AK blasts from men trying to gather their courage. And then Sonny heard the familiar boom of M-14s at close range. Dave came through the hedge with a roar, triggering off shot after shot at the now-panicked men in the stairs. Beside him was Randy, an aid bag in his hand. “Give me cover!” he shouted, passing his M-14 to Sonny. Sonny Crockett brought the heavy rifle to his shoulder, hours at the Boot Camp rifle range swimming into tight focus in his mind. He looked through the peep sign, planted the front sight blade on a guard starting to charge down the stairs, and smashed him to the concrete with two 7.62mm bullets. Next to him Dave continued to shout like a man possessed, but every round he fired hit home with devastating impact. Sonny methodically sent round after round into the men clustered by the house's back door, not caring if they were trying to run, surrender, or charge. Then the bolt locked back and he realized he was squeezing the trigger on an empty weapon. Dave came to the same understanding at the same moment. They looked at each other, and realized there was no return fire. Random moans echoed from the porch, and behind them he could still hear Trudy sobbing. It took Tubbs to sum it up. He helped Mindy stand, her ankle twisted when she kicked off her heels to run. He looked around, seeing blood running off the porch and staining the once-white stairs red. In the distance the familiar whump of rotors announced the arrival of the tactical team. Then he whistled. “Damn!” One word, nothing more. The smell of gunpowder and death hung heavy in the humid air. Randy looked into the hospital room and shook his head. “That's one tough son of a bitch,” he whispered in admiration. “I've seen wounds like that kill more men than I care to remember.” Trudy looked up, her eyes still red. “I want to thank you for saving his life, Randy.” The deputy blushed. “All in a day's work. Actually, you should thank Sonny. We were movin' all careful until he shouted for a corpsman.” Dave nodded his agreement. “Soon's he said that, we went into high gear. I think I kinda lost it, too. Hearin' a buddy's hurt and needs help always brings that out in me.” Sonny leaned against the wall, doing his best to stay out of the conversation. “I don't know why I yelled that,” he admitted. “It just came out.” “Old habits and training.” Dave grinned. “Just like when you got the M-14.” Tubbs looked at Mindy. She was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt now, her ankle tightly wrapped. “And you saved my ass with that .45 of yours. I thought they had me at the stairs.” She smiled. “Part of that was Sonny. He used all his ammo covering us.” Trudy looked over at him. “Why did you stand up like that, Sonny?” It was the question he'd hoped to avoid. But there was no helping it now. “Maynard wanted me. Not any of you. I figured if I gave him that, it would buy time for you to escape.” “That's suicide, partner.” “No. I did what I thought needed to be done at the time.” He smiled. “But Maynard forgot about Trudy.” “I...I never expected to do that.” “We never do. Not until someone we love is in danger.” Or dead. Fucking Hackman. At least Trudy's love is still alive. And we don't have to waste money on a trial for that son of a bitch. Turning, Sonny spotted a passing doctor. “Doc? How long before we can talk to him?” “At least a day. He lost a lot of blood, but thanks to your friend there he's stable.” The man looked down at his clipboard. “The bullet missed most of his major organs, but he still suffered serious trauma.” “Thanks.” Sonny waited until the man continued on his rounds. “Trudy, you stay with Marty just in case. I know he'd want to see your face when he wakes up. The rest of you, get some rest. You sure as hell earned it. I'll check on Stan and Lester and get started on the reports.” “Sonny? Do you think they'll leave the task force together?” Mindy smiled. “I can answer that. I called the chief deputy before I came down here. We're still a task force, but they're giving us leave until the others are healthy. He was pleased as hell with how this turned out, and thinks he's got a couple more operations for us as soon as we're ready.” Tubbs looked at Sonny. “Let's check on those knuckleheads together, partner, and then we're going to Casa Cooper. Paperwork can wait.” Sonny sank back on the leather sofa with a sigh, holding the glass of ice and Jack Daniel's to his forehead. “That was one hell of a day.” “You can say that again.” Rico grinned. “If we keep up like this I might have to rethink the whole revolver thing.” He sipped his scotch and looked out the patio door. “Just ask whatever you want to ask, Rico. I've know you long enough to know something's on your mind.” “Were you really going to let Maynard kill you, Sonny.” “Hell. I don't know. And that's an honest answer, Rico. He'd just shot Marty, and I knew if I was out of ammo you and Mindy would be close. I...I was just trying to buy time is all.” It was a half truth, and he knew Rico would know that. “Nothing else?” “Hell, Rico. I don't know. What matters to me is the team. You, Trudy, Mindy, Marty, all of them. I know before I always thought about me first. Look what that cost. I couldn't see any other way out. If I stayed down he could have finished Marty off, killed Trudy, and then done who knows what. But I had to do something to give the rest of you a chance.” “I get it. Just warn me next time, partner.” “I will, Rico. I promise.” They raised their glasses to each other and drank. Sonny could feel the bourbon calming his nerves, settling his soul into its normal position. “Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and Jenny will be back.” “This time find out if she has a sister. A cousin. Hell, any friends even.” Sonny laughed. “I'll do that, partner.” The laugh felt good, as did the the knowledge Maynard and Moncado were both dead. Without pulling the trigger on either of them he'd squared things. It was a start, at least. And these days he couldn't ask for much more.

One more after this one...two at the most. It's getting closer... It was almost noon before the task force assembled in the conference room. Trudy, as was becoming custom, opened with an update on their casualties. “Stan's been upgraded again. There was no vision loss, and his bandages should be coming off soon. Gina wants to take him home now, but the doctors want to wait a couple of days to guard against infection. Lester's been upgraded to stable. He didn't suffer quite as much facial damage, but his arm and leg along with a couple of ribs will take some time to heal.” She shook her head. “I don't know what's wrong with those two. They both wanted to come back right away.” “They need to enjoy their skate time.” Dave chuckled. “It don't come around too often.” “Thank you.” Castillo nodded to Tubbs. “I just got off the phone with Moncado. He paged early this morning. The deal is going down tonight. On the water again, but at a commercial dock controlled by one of his shell companies.” Tubbs grinned. “He don't know that we know that, though. That means it's on his turf. I don't expect him to try anything, but you never know.” Mindy looked at Castillo, who gave a slight nod. “I've been watching the traffic, and he hasn't been chattering with anyone. There was some international traffic late last night. A fax or something. Nothing we could monitor.” “We might have the answer to that one.” Randy looked down at his notebook, and Sonny noticed the first page was a highly-detailed range card for the area outside Robbie's club. “Moncado arrived about an hour early. One of his guys went in with him, and good job Crockett for picking him out. Two more took up a position across from the club where they could see the door. They had what appeared to be a high-end camera with a telephoto lens. They stayed in place until ten minutes after Crockett and Tubbs left. That's when Moncado's Mercedes swung back and picked them up. And you were right, Sonny. Security did throw the bodyguard out. He waited outside until Moncado left. We never spotted any shooters or other hostiles in the area.” “A ten-spot says that was my picture going to Maynard.” Sonny chuckled. “Should we go ahead with tonight's deal?” Castillo was silent for a moment. “Yes. If Mindy picks up anything on our remaining bugs we can always abort. But Maynard needs that money for something. I think he'd let the deal go through even if he recognized Crockett. Money in the bank is money in the bank.” He looked down the table. “But it's your call, Sonny.” “Do it.” There was no pause, no hesitation in Sonny's voice. Or in his heart. “If it brings Maynard out, I don't mind the risk. Besides, he's not likely to have Moncado kill me. He wants to do that himself. And a snatch operation is too complicated. They don't have enough planning time.” “And we'll be riding shotgun in any case.” Dave snickered. “He'd lose a hell of a lot of boys if he tried to take you at that dock.” “I want everything wired. The boat. Everything. You'll be in constant contact with us from the moment you leave the marina. Trudy, Mindy, and I will be your backup.” “Don't forget the tactical team. We can have them on ten minute standby.” “Not yet. I want to hold them in reserve.” Castillo rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “I know Moreno said something about out of town shooters. But Moncado couldn't have that many yet. At least one of his ships is still at sea. We'll risk going light this time. We'll need the tactical team when we know Maynard is in this country.” Sonny nodded, even though he'd stopped listening when Castillo mentioned the marina. He'd returned last night to find Jenny's boat gone again, Vellamo's spot empty. The marina keeper confirmed she'd sailed out that afternoon, but handed him a note. It was written in a loose, flowing cursive Sonny found matched Jenny perfectly. 'I'll be back in a few days. Don't forget about me.' It ended with an ornate J. He checked back into the conversation when Randy spoke up. “Do we have a map of the dock? Anything like that?” Trudy looked through one of her files. “We have that an a photograph Metro-Dade's chopper took about a week ago. Once we started pinpointing his shell holdings I started collecting information.” She smiled. “They think they took the picture for an EPA survey.” “Good cover. Gorman wouldn't have heard of it, and if he did he wouldn't put it together with anything.” Sonny looked at Mindy. “Any word on his charges?” “Once he realized he was looking at no-shit Federal time he started singing like a bad Elvis impersonator drunk on cheap box wine.” She smiled. “Don't ask. Anyhow, he's cooperating with everyone and anyone who asks. I don't know that it will do him much good in the end, but the Federal attorneys are good at letting people thing it will help.” Tubbs grinned. “I might ask you about that story sometime. Was he in bed with anyone other than Pedrosa?” “I don't think so. He's not admitting to anyone else. Seems he got approached one night when he was drinking at the Copper Plate and bitching to high heaven about his job. It wasn't Pedrosa, and from the description I think Reno sniffed him out first. The money was good, but I think he cared more about feeling important. Someone wanted to know what he knew.” Randy nodded. “Dave and I will look the photos and maps over and see what we can come up with. Places he could hide guys and all that. We won't have time to do a visual recon, and I think Moncado would be watching for that in any case.” Sonny nodded. “I agree. Normal procedure is to roll in with your guns showing and dare the guy to make a move. We vary from that and he'll smell a rat.” He started to get up. “I'll go get the boat ready. We'll want to look like we did last time – loaded out and ready to make a trip up the coast.” “The handoff will work the same way it did last time. I'll have the coordinates and radio frequencies ready before you jump off.” Castillo looked up from his contemplation of the table top. “Be on your guard tonight. Moncado's on edge and under pressure. He's conditioned to lash out when that happens.” “I'll call back here when the boat's ready. If you can bring Randy and Dave, Rico, we'll leave from the marina. Just in case he's watching.” Sonny got to his feet. “The deal's at 2200, so I'll want to cast off at 2100. Give us time to settle in and make our way there. It's not far, but there's no reason to hurry.” “We'll have CAR-15s again.” Dave grinned. “Just like last time. Except this time we'll be on deck with them.” “Good call. I painted Burnett as being damned pissed-off last night. No reason to change that color now.” They cast off just after nine, Sonny guiding the boat through the marina and into clear water. He could hear Dave and Randy talking down below, doing their last-minute equipment checks and settling into the groove he knew they needed in case things went south. Tubbs stood beside him, looking back at the marina. “That where her boat usually is?” The question took him by surprise. “Yeah. She was gone when I came back last night. Left a strange note, though.” “Sounds like you took my advice.” “Just let it roll? Yeah, that's what I'm doing. But that's the rub, partner. When it's rolling you can't control where it ends up.” “Yeah, but you can always hope it don't have some big mutt named Jimmy following it around.” “Not that I've seen so far.” Sonny chuckled. “You seen her again?” “No. Not that I've been looking, mind. I am still waiting for you to get me that number, though.” Sonny reached into his blazer pocket. “Got you covered, partner. I talked to Robbie after the meeting. Got the number of both Nita and Debbie for you. Robbie said they're both cool.” Tubbs snatched up the slip of paper. “Solid! Thanks, Sonny.” He stuffed the slip in his suit coat pocket. “And where do you think this thing with Jenny is rolling?” “I don't know, Rico. That's what bugs me about it. I don't know where it's going.” He shook his head, easing the throttles forward as they hit open water. “But I need my head in this game.” “Yeah. We both do. Who knows how this is going to play out.” “We'll make it through, Rico. We always do.” Until the one time we don't. But I can't think about that. “And he's just one step away from Maynard.” Clouds scudded across the moon, and the blinking of the boat's navigation lights cast ruby and emerald spots over the rolling waves. Sonny had always enjoyed boating at night, even when it might end in gunfire. He checked the chart and the compass, adjusting course to bring them to the warehouse in time. His mind worked through the math, matching speed with distance and course. “Ten minutes out,” he called belowdecks. “Get ready, gents.” Lights blazed on along the dock as he guided Little Lou into the spot marked by two men with red-tipped flashlights. In the shadows he could pick out men further back from the dock, most of them armed with what looked like AK-47s. Dave and Randy took up their spots in the flying bridge, CAR-15s at the ready where the men on shore could see them. Both men had dug out olive green jungle fatigue jackets, torn and stained from use in the bush, and Sonny nodded at the touch. Makes them look damned dangerous. A good play in a situation like this. Advertises their skills. He knew the game, too, picking out his dark Burnett wardrobe following the same principle. He looked over at Tubbs, standing straight in his well-cut suit like he didn't have a care in the world. Still, he knew his partner was worried. These situations were hard to control, to manage, and he knew Tubbs liked to be in control. This was more his game. I may not be good at rolling with Jenny, but I can roll with this any day. It was almost natural by now, and for Burnett it was natural. Sonny fought the shift...hell, he always did. But this time it was almost natural. As he eased the boat into the designated spot he felt the mask slip into place. It was time, and he was ready. He counted four men along the dock, two of them holding the lights. From the way the lights were mounted he couldn't see more than ten or fifteen yards past the dock, but dark shadows showed him where a cargo truck and two smaller cars were parked. That gave Moncado ten, maybe twelve men on hand. With who knew how many waiting on call. It wasn't a great tactical situation, but he'd been in worse. And they also had the advantage of having something Moncado needed: money. Using wire transfers made a rip much harder to execute, since Moncado's men had no idea who had the bank codes. The face of the deal wasn't always the money man. Tubbs looked out over the dock. “Where's Moncado?” A thickset man with dark hair sauntered out of the shadows. “He's not coming. He sends me instead.” “And who the hell might you be, pal?” Sonny moved out from behind the wheel. “That doesn't concern you.” “Oh, I think it does. And if this is a rip job, you'll find out my boys can shoot a flea off your ass at three hundred yards. And we're not that far out.” His eyes kept searching the shadows, picking out two more forms behind the speaker. “Easy! We're all friends here, but Burnett has a point.” “I'm Jorge. Senior Moncado sends me to make the deal.” “So have your men load the product. Half up in the bow compartments, the other half in the stern. My guys will show you.” Sonny reached under his jacket and set the big .45 on the console. “Try anything cute and you drop first, pal.” He glanced at Dave, who nodded. One of them would get Jorge. “Everyone just go easy. Let's just make this work. No one gets paid if this goes south.” Tubbs raised his hands. “Jorge or whatever your name is, we'll do the transfer. Have your people load the product.” Sonny brought the boat down to idle and motioned for Randy to secure the lines. Dave remained on the bridge, carbine at the ready. “Moncado have a hot date or something?” “He does not give me his reasons. He just says go, so I go.” Jorge leered up at Sonny. “A trait you could learn, maybe.” “Screw you, pal. Now be a good little bitch and finish the deal.” Sonny saw Jorge's jaw twitch, and was afraid for an instant he'd gone too far. Then the moment passed and he knew he'd judged it just right. “We settle later, amigo.” He turned his attention to Rico. “You are Cooper, yes? Come. We do the transfer. My men, they load the product.” Sonny turned to Dave. “Keep an eye on Rico. They get funny, drop Jorge first.” “You got it, Sonny. I can thread his ears at this distance. Even with iron sights.” Dave smiled and looked down at Jorge like he was measuring him for a coffin. This time the men moving the nondescript coffee sacks all had AK-47s slung across their backs and moved with a discipline Sonny associated with military training. Two of the four men on the dock did the lifting. The other two kept back, holding their AKs loose in their hands like they were more used to gunning down peasants. They didn't speak, and didn't pay any attention to either Randy or Dave. Just means there's a few more out there in the shadows with AKsSonny thought as he watched them work. He could feel the spiders again, making their way up and down his spine. But it wasn't as intense, as direct, as it could be. He turned to Dave again. “What's your read?” Dave answered out of the side of his mouth. “They're just tryin' to scare us. If it was a hit those guys back by the warehouse would have opened up by now.” “Yeah. They've got us lit up damned well, though. I feel like a deer caught in a spotlight.” “Looks like Rico got the deal done, though.” Dave motioned with his head to Tubbs, who was emerging from the shadows with his satellite phone. “Good. The sooner we're out of here the better.” He looked down toward the gangplank, seeing Randy raise his hand to signal the last of the load was stored. “And we're almost there.” Down on the dock Tubbs turned back toward the shadows. “Good doing business with Mr. Moncado. Tell him to show up next time. I don't deal with bridesmaids or errand boys. You get me?” Turning, he headed for the boat. Jorge's voice echoed from the darkness. “As I said, Cooper, you'll hear from the jefe soon enough.” As soon as Tubbs was up the gangplank, Sonny looked down at Randy and waved his hand. The deputy cast off the lines, tossing them in the water in a final sign of disdain. Then he pushed the throttles forward and pulled away from the dock with as much speed as he felt the boat could handle. Better to get the hell out just in case they have some kind of parting surprise in mind for us he thought, fighting the urge to take evasive maneuvers. “Keep it cool,” he muttered, turning the wheel and making for open water. “If they had a LAW they would have used it by now.” Tubbs joined him on the bridge. “That was a hell of a line you walked, Sonny.” “I know, Rico. But we had to push. Especially when Moncado didn't show.” He keyed the radio to let Castillo they were clear without any shots being fired. “What do you think was up with that?” “Damned if I know. His crew was loaded up, though. You see all those AKs they had on hand? That's some serious firepower.” “Yeah, and they were all ex-military. You could tell by how they moved.” Randy came up on deck, covering his CAR-15 to protect it from any ocean spray. “And they were all Columbians. I'm not as good with Spanish as Trudy, but I can pick out an accent. They were talking as they loaded the product and I played the dumb Gringo. Amazing what they'll say around you when you pull that act.” He chuckled. “Anyhow, they were surprised Moncado wasn't there. One of them said something about the jefe having an important call and having to send his bitch to do the work. Seems you pegged him right, Sonny.” “I was just trying to get under his skin.” Sonny laughed, looking back and seeing the lights along the warehouse dock click off. “Looks like they're pulling out, too.” “Solid. Now we can get to the drop point and get back on solid ground.” “Might not be that quick, Rico. These coordinates are further north. Looks like Castillo's playing it safe. Really make Moncado think we're heading up the coast. I checked the chart, and we're going up past Lauderdale.” “Well shit.” Rico looked down the narrow gangway. “I'm gonna go down and get something to eat, then. Looks like Dave got a head start. You two want anything?” “I'll be down in a second.” Randy looked out over the sea, alternately dark and gold depending on the clouds and the moon. “You took a hell of a risk with Jorge.” “It had to be done.” Sonny looked up from the chart. “I've been doing this for a long time. Some of these guys, you just have to prove yours is bigger than theirs. If you don't, they start getting ideas and doing stupid things.” “I get it.” Randy slapped him on the shoulder. “I also know this is personal. Don't lose that balance, Marine. It gets people killed.” Then he turned and headed below, leaving Sonny alone with the night air and his thoughts. He knew Randy was right. It was all about the balance. But he couldn't forget about Stan's bloody face or the promise Gina had extracted from him. He'd almost gone over that tonight, but he didn't feel any regret. Even though Moncado's men looked to have military training, the way they held their AKs told him they were more used to shooting at people who couldn't shoot back. But without Moncado there it would have been a wasted gesture. Down below, Ricardo Tubbs chewed on a sandwich, swallowing most of it before realizing he hadn't really tasted what he was eating. Dave and Randy were talking to each other, including him from time to time more out of social habit than any real connection. It didn't bother him. He was more concerned about what had happened at the warehouse. Sonny had been close. He knew that. So damned close to just setting off a gunfight. But he'd pulled back at just the right moment. Somehow he always managed to read those situations, a skill Rico admitted he admired. Raised on the city streets, fights for him were an on or off switch. He was either looking after himself or throwing down on some chump who'd asked for it. There wasn't any middle ground, no dance of any kind. You either fought or you didn't, and if you did you were ready to go all the way. Sonny was different. Rico had seen him manage violence with an almost natural skill. He'd egg someone right the edge and then back off, throwing them off their game. Other times he'd flip the switch with a speed Rico couldn't replicate, just because he sensed the other guy was about to change the rules. And there were all sorts of shades running between the two. Sonny mastered them all. It had been close tonight, though. Jorge, whoever the hell he was, had been on edge and almost spoiling for a fight. Something held him back, though. Maybe fear of Moncado, or the boss' express orders. But Rico had felt it on him when they went to do the money transfer. Jorge's call to verify the wire transfer had been brief but electric, the man hissing only a few words in Spanish before tossing his phone to one of the underlings and turning back to Rico. “Now you go. The jefe will call soon.” That was it. No thanks, no nothing. Just a vague dismissal. Rico had snarled something back in his Spanish picked up on the streets of Spanish Harlem; totally Americanized but very uncomplimentary about Jorge's sister and other female relations. Then he'd turned and walked back to the boat, daring the man to do something. He felt the boat lurch ever so slightly as Crockett corrected the course, sending them away from the coast and north into the dark water. The engine noise changed as he increased speed, likely wanting to make the rendezvous point before dawn gave them away to the word. Deals done in darkness need to be finished in darkness. He paused in mid-bite. Where had he heard that before? Then he remembered. One of Rafael's CIs had loved that line, using it almost every time they met. Some days he wondered what had happened to old Downbeat Jefferson after Rafael was murdered. But only some days. All he knew now was he was tired. The food had done nothing to wake him up, crashing after the adrenalin high of the meeting. Setting his dish in the small galley sink, he turned and headed for one of the rear berths. “I'm gonna get some shut-eye,” he said to no one in particular. “Wake me up if anything goes down.” Once again they made the handoff to a nondescript boat, but this time north of Fort Lauderdale and well offshore to avoid prying eyes. Sonny signed the property slip one of the expressionless men in drab overalls handed him. “Have a good trip,” he said, knowing the man wouldn't answer. Once they were done he brought the boat around and started back to Miami. This time he opened the throttle all the way, not really caring who saw them. They'd done the switch in a logical place for a handoff, and it wouldn't be at all unusual for a transportation crew to use two or three different boats before making the final handoff to the buyers. Even so, it was after noon before they tied up at the marina, Sonny noticing with concealed disappointment Vellamowas still at sea somewhere. They eased back into their docking spot, Randy making fast again, and Sonny killed the big engine. He was tired, the feeling coming over him in waves after being up all night piloting the boat. “I don't know about you all,” he announced as soon as his moccasins touched the dock, “but I'm going to crash. Twenty-four hours is enough for me.” Tubbs clapped him on the back. “You go for it, partner. I'll bring Castillo up to speed.” It didn't take long for Sonny to toss Elvis a tuna from the cooler and make his way below. It was cool out of the sun, and he shrugged off his dark blazer with a sigh. He walked through to the rear stateroom, tossing his shoulder rig on the bed before rinsing his face in the small head and lying down. He'd just managed to kick off his shoes before sleep claimed him. Trudy looked up from her scribbled notes. “Randy heard right, lieutenant. Moncado did get an overseas call right before the buy. The line was bad, but we did make out some talk about it being 'him' and that there was travel involved.” She shrugged. “Bad lines and distance from the tap make that one almost useless as anything other than a record of calls being made.” Castillo nodded. In reality, though, that was all he needed. Sonny was right. Maynard couldn't resist the bait. He looked at Tubbs. “You said Crockett's at the boat?” “That's right, lieutenant. He looked pretty run down by the time we got back into port.” “And the deal?” “It went smooth. Sonny pushed the guy Moncado sent to stand in for him, some chump called Jorge, just hard enough to throw him off his game.” “That would be Jorge Cortez, Moncado's old right hand from his death squad days.” Trudy flipped through the file, her fingers finding the right page as if by magic. “A sergeant in the Columbian army until he fled ahead of a court-martial for conduct unbecoming, rape, and murder. He's got a nasty reputation in Peru as well. DEA says Moncado uses him as a problem-solver.” “So we have another deal down.” Tubbs shifted in his chair. “When do we reel in the big fish?” “We have to know Maynard is in the country first.” Castillo steepled his fingers as he let his brain turn over the problem. “Deputy O'Laughlin, can the marshals get Customs to watch for him at Miami ports of entry?” “We can, but there might be a leak.” She shrugged. “Once Customs gets involved you might as well buy air time. Too many people get involved.” “Understood.” he turned to Trudy. “Do you think we can tell by the taps when Maynard is in the country?” “I'd say so. No one in Moncado's organization needs to call overseas if the boss is in the country. The last we could tell Maynard was in Peru. So if there are no calls there, I'd say he made it here.” Castillo sat for a time. “It makes sense. We'll keep Customs out of it for now, but have your people check with their snitches.” “What about Izzy?” “Leave Moreno out of this. He's a good source, but he also likes to talk. I don't want Maynard catching even a hint we know about his involvement.” Tubbs cleared his throat. “What about Holmes and his guns? How often does Maynard check with him? That might give us something, and Moncado has no idea we're working him, too.” Castillo nodded. “Good point. Trudy, are those taps still operational?” “Yes. We don't get much on them, but they're working. And Rico's right. Maynard does call Holmes from time to time. Mostly to OK sales. We had one a couple of days before the LAW attack that might have been him clearing that sale.” She looked down. “We missed it.” “No. We didn't know what it was. I've seen those logs. It could have been Maynard approving AK-47s for Moncado's men or a sale to the Dominican gangs. Holmes is paranoid enough he must send the proposed deals by some kind of courier or fax and then just waits for verbal authorization.” Castillo met Trudy's gaze. “That one's not on you.” He understood her pain, and they'd talk about it later. But for now he wanted her focused on the immediate job: getting a fix on Maynard before he got one on Sonny. They couldn't lose sight of that primary goal. Anything else would have to wait until later. “Jorge said Moncado would be in touch. I don't want to give him too much time, lieutenant. A day or two at the most.” “Good. We'll keep the pressure on. Good work last night, by the way. This puts us one step closer to bringing the whole network down around Moncado and Maynard.” Back in his office, Martin Castillo looked at the neat stack of folders on his desk. One for the interrogation of Gorman by the marshals. Another documenting the buy money transfers. A third with intelligence on Holmes and his arms network. But in them all there was no clue about what Maynard was up to. Why he needed so much money so quickly and where it might be going. He'd been tracking the arms dealer mostly by himself, tapping Trudy or Mindy from time to time to check his thinking and run down a lead or two. But it had mostly been done from a distance. Holmes was just too careful, and none of Castillo's team had done any serious undercover work in the arms trade. Crockett and Tubbs had caught an assignment or two, but nothing to build a reputation like Cooper and especially Burnett enjoyed in the drug world. And Lester Holmes never dealt with unknowns or new faces. Clients always had to be referred, and he was careful in his vetting. And Castillo had no one would could clear either hurdle. So he watched. And from what he could gather Holmes had been on a buying spree. Mostly military-grade hardware; things like the AKs and some M-16s, with a LAW or two thrown in for good nature. Cases of assault rifles had gone missing from trains bound for military posts further west, but he guessed the LAWs had been stolen much closer to home. Just how many he couldn't tell, but it was more than one or two. “Whose army is Maynard equipping?” he muttered as he flipped through one of the files. “And why is he doing it?” It wouldn't be Nicaragua. Congress was still wrapped up in investigating that Reagan relic. Maybe El Salvador. Or something in Peru or Columbian, although Columbia got enough U.S. aide money as it was without Maynard's special touch being needed. No, if he was a betting man Castillo would back Peru or Bolivia as the destination for Maynard's weapons. But why so many? And was he hiring men to use them as well? That would account for the money. Even in the third world trained men were more expensive than the guns they used, and Maynard preferred trained men. In the end it didn't really matter. They'd take Maynard down and those plans would stall, or maybe die a quiet death. If they got Moncado in the bargain so much the better. Before, Castillo would have wanted to know about Maynard's plan and who was behind it. Now he understood how pointless that was...running down a rabbit hole that never ended. Take out the man at the wheel and the ship runs aground. It doesn't matter where it was going or who charted the original course. At least it worked in cases like this, where everything centered on Maynard. Closing the files, Castillo turned to look out the window at the Miami skyline. The sky was its usual off light blue, a testament to the humidity wrapped around the city like a wet wool blanket. He'd also learned long ago that when dealing with a drug cartel taking out one man at the top usually accomplished nothing more than splintering the cartel into smaller gangs fighting over the same turf controlled by the group you'd just taken out. Sonny as Burnett seemed to understand that instinctively, and Castillo had learned vicariously from watching him break the Manolo cartel by absorbing its component parts and then finally beheading the snake. He started losing control when someone else begin taking control of the veins that fed the blood – money and coke – through his organization. If you couldn't control demand, you could at least choke off supply. That was Castillo's take-away from what he'd come to call the Sonny Burnett clinic. It was a tactic he'd tested for the first time in the field against Moncado's group, and it seemed to be working. They'd gone from dealing with a low-level middleman to the head of the organization in less time than he'd hoped. And all because he'd brought a buyer and a component part – Sonny and his transportation – to the table. And one of those parts wasn't going to tolerate any pushback or competition. The analytical part of him wanted to see if this was a one-off success or if it would work again. He also recognized the uniqueness of Moncado's network. It was a single-source cartel, managed by one man at the express wish of another for a very specific purpose: fundraising. It had very little in common with Manolo's cartel, or the operations run by Calderone or the Mendoza brothers. And it was also different running an operation like the Task Force. They had few limits, solid support, and what seemed to be unlimited funds. Back in OCB he'd been hamstrung by local politics, tight budgets, and almost constant Federal interference. Here, the Marshal's Service almost wrote them a blank check and said 'bring us success.' He wasn't naive enough to expect it to last, but be planned to exploit it for his team as long as he could. Castillo sighed and leaned back in his chair. He'd hoped Sonny would be in, but understood the man's need for sleep. He wanted to see with his own eyes how he'd handled coming so close to being Burnett again, to get a feel for how that experience had effected him. They needed, he needed, Sonny running at one hundred percent now, and there wasn't any room for error. He thought, then decided. Getting up he opened his office door. “Rico? A word?” Tubbs sat down in front of the desk, straightening his suit coat as he did. Castillo suppressed a smile. He'd always appreciated the New Yorker's sense of style and almost compulsive need for order his appearance. It was a trait he shared. “I'll get right to it. How did Sonny do last night?” Rico chose his words carefully. “He did good, lieutenant. Maybe he pushed a bit harder with Jorge than I would have, but Sonny's also better at reading that kind of thing than I am.” “Explain.” Tubbs outlined what he'd been thinking earlier. “...and he can just read violence, Marty,” he concluded. “For me it's on or off. For him it's a whole dance. He sees it like I see a negotiation.” Castillo nodded. “Yes. But afterwards?” “He calmed down as soon as we were out of sight of the dock. Went right back to plotting our course and doing all that boat shit like nothing had happened. One of the marshals, Dave I think, spoke to him but it wasn't anything.” He smiled. “They're in a club I can't join.” “And one you don't want membership in.” Castillo closed his eyes, focusing to keep the memories at bay. “Vietnam is a club you should be glad you didn't join, Rico.” “I know. It's just funny, you know. We've been partners all these years and Sonny never talked about it. Hell, he talked about that Orgell dude more than he did 'Nam. It's like he just woke up from a dream or something.” “Maybe he did.” Castillo paused. Normally he knew exactly what to say, but he found himself having to gather his thoughts. “Crockett denied his veteran status for years. It was a book he tried to close, but it kept opening itself. He had to decide to open it, and to keep turning the pages. Whether he likes it or not, it's part of who he is. How he became who he is. It was never good for him to turn his back on Robbie.” “I don't think he'll make that mistake again.” Tubbs nodded. “Robbie's good people. I was wrong about him.” “No. You didn't know the whole story then. You do now, and gave him a second chance. Just like he did with you. Robbie Cann is a very brave man. He broke from a mob family, then turned on them when they tried to make him a part of their business. And then he testified against them.” Castillo shook his head. “And he declined witness protection.” Tubbs whistled. “Damn! I knew part of it, but never knew he testified. He said something about that, but I thought it was small stuff.” “They kept it out of the papers. It was a Federal case, and they can make things go away when they want.” “Yeah. Don't we know it. But he and Robbie are tight now. And he and those two snipers... It's good to see.” “Good.” Castillo paused. “And how are you doing?” “Me?” Tubbs looked past the desk and out toward the ocean. “I'm solid, lieutenant. I can't believe I fell for that Mikko and her act, but aside from letting big Tubbs think for bigger Tubbs I'm doin' ok.” “If there's anything on your mind, Rico, anything bothering you, I need to know. We don't have the luxury of replacements here. That's our major weakness.” Tubbs sat silent for a time, and Castillo had a good idea where his mind was spinning. “It's...it's my son, lieutenant. Is he alive? That's been bothering me lately. Sonny, he knows where his sons are. It's not perfect for him, but he knows. I don't.” “I'll look into it for you. We have access now we could only dream of in OCB.” Castillo nodded, knowing he'd been right. “We'll find out, Rico. One way or the other. And you'll know. One way or the other. If he's alive I can't promise we can do anything, but at least you'll know.” “Thank you, Marty. I wouldn't expect you to do anything if he's alive. But like you said, at least I'll know.” Tubbs stood, the motion smooth and swift. He had a knack of going from full stop to full speed, and Castillo suspected he'd make a fine martial artist with the right training. “I need to get back to work. I'm helping Mindy go through some of the intercept traffic. She's one smart lady, you know that?” “The marshal's office gave us the best they have. I owe him a big debt.” “And we'll pay it with Maynard's head on a platter.” The room was silent once Tubbs left, with only the hollow hiss of the central air ducts to keep Castillo company. Looking down at his note pad, he sorted things in his head. He was sure he could find out of Ricardo Calderone was still alive. The family itself had been under heavy surveillance for years, up until the death of Xavier and Orlando Calderone. And even then he suspected one or two agencies had kept tracking the remains for a year or two afterwards. The child would be what now? Seven? Castillo did the math. In any case, he'd be the youngest in any Calderone movement or sighting. That would help. Reaching for his pad, he drafted an interagency information request. Mindy could clean it up and route it later. But he owed it to Tubbs to at least try to put his mind at ease. Then he smiled. Trying to bury the past was another thing his two best detectives had in common.

For those of you still following what's turned into a bit of a monster, this is nearing the end. Another three or four parts possibly. Maybe another if the mood takes me. And then I promise I'll stop clogging up the Fan Fiction area... It was well after midnight before Martin Castillo found himself on the familiar deck looking out over water he could hear but not quite see. Both Switek and Lester were in recovery, the doctors assuring him they'd be fine in a couple of weeks. Lester had been lucky; he'd heard enough of Stan's screamed warning to start diving for cover when the LAW hit. When he left Gina was still sobbing at Switek's bedside, with Sonny and Rico standing close watch just outside the door. The two marshals were still working the remains of the van, like two grim angels of death waiting for someone to stick their head up and volunteer to feed their hunger. Mindy was back at the office, using her considerable skills to ram a request for a new van through Federal procurement red tape. His unbuttoned suit coat caught the prevailing breeze and flapped out behind him like a short shroud. Still he stood, staring with unseeing eyes at the sounds of the ocean. Letting his mind work through where he'd made mistakes that almost got two of his men killed. He sensed rather than heard Trudy come up behind him. Her touch on his shoulder was soft, almost a caress. “It's not your fault, Marty.” “How did you know?” “I know you. Well, maybe not completely. But I know how you feel about people you're responsible for. You couldn't have seen this coming.” “I should have known Moncado would sweep for bugs. That he wouldn't trust Pedrosa's work.” “That's easy to say now.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But before this happened we wouldn't have known Pedrosa would get himself killed and that Moncado would step in so quickly. There wasn't time to change our plan, and we needed intel to move forward.” “You make it sound simple.” His voice was harder than he intended. “I'm sorry, Trudy. I wasn't trying to hurt.” “Sometimes it just is simple. There's nothing we could have done to foresee this.” “Switek and Larry were almost killed. I would have had to explain that to Gina. To Lester's parents.” “I know. I remember Larry Zito. I also remember you not handing Crockett his ass when everyone but Tubbs thought he'd pushed the case too hard. Pushed Larry too hard. What did you say then? 'He couldn't have seen that coming.' Sound familiar?” “It's still my responsibility.” “I know. I'm not saying you're not in the end responsible for what happens to this unit. But that's not the same thing as being personally responsible.” Reaching out, she wrapped her arm around his waist and laid her head on his shoulder. He could smell her hair, feel her warm body through his suit. “If you start blaming yourself we're lost, Marty. And we need you to finish this.” Castillo didn't say a word, just kept looking out to the waves he couldn't see. After a time he slipped his arm around her slim waist, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. “Thank you.” “For what?” “For being here. For reminding me of what's important.” He smiled. “And for sounding like me when that's what I needed to hear.” She giggled. “I did sound a bit like you, didn't I?” “Yes.” Reaching down, he tipped her chin up and kissed her on her half-open lips. “Maybe we should turn in. Tomorrow will be a long day.” Sleep wouldn't come easy. He knew that. But having Trudy there would help. How much it helped continued to amaze him. Sonny looked down at the thin film of bourbon clinging to the bottom of his glass. It was after hours, but Robbie didn't care. Especially once he heard what had happened. Instead he sent his staff home, called his wife with a quick explanation, and then sat at the bar with Sonny and Rico. “You know who did this?” “Yeah. Some punks who work for that chump Maynard.” Rico drained his own glass and poured another from the bottle Robbie left on the bar. “It never gets easier.” Sonny kept staring at the film, waiting for it to tell him something. He didn't know what. “Guys get shot up, crippled, sometimes killed. Hell, I figured we saw enough of that in Nam to last a lifetime.” “Yeah, and we were just MPs.” Robbie drained his own scotch and nodded his thanks when Rico poured him another. “I always felt bad for the snuffies out there.” “You and me both, pal. You and me both.” “At least they both made it.” Rico sipped his drink. “It could have been a hell of a lot worse.” “Your partner's right, Sonny. We could be having a wake right now instead of a few drinks to settle the nerves.” Robbie slapped Sonny on the forearm. “There's that to think about.” “Yeah, and I bet the lieutenant is beating the hell out of himself right now.” “There's nothing the man could have done. I don't care how great he is.” Robbie poured Sonny another Black Jack. “Some things in life you just can't see coming. They move too fast and come from places you can't see. That's just how it goes.” He squinted, his forehead wrinkling in thought. “Didn't you once give me some lecture about that?” “I probably did,” Sonny admitted. “That sounds like something I'd say when I was trying to get someone to do the right thing.” He grinned. “Or what I wanted them to do.” “At least Stan's got Gina. I feel kinda bad for poor Lester all by himself.” “She'll look in on him, Rico. And I think Dave and Randy will, too. He's pretty out of it now.” “So what's your next move? Or can you tell me?” “I don't know, Robbie. Before this we were just waiting on a call, and now I think we're still waiting on a call.” “Yeah. If Cooper tries leaning on him, it just shows we're connected with the people who were tapping his phones.” Rico set his glass down. “And that don't get us what we need.” “It's a complicated thing, Robbie. Those tapes you helped us get would put him away, but he's not the one we're after. It's the guy above him.” “That former Army spook? So this guy we taped gets a pass?” “No. He's just a bit lower on the pole. But he'll get what's coming to him.” “I hope so, Sonny. Never let anyone mess with your friends. That's one thing my family taught me. And you taught me friends are better than family. And harder to come by.” “Yeah, and I damn near fucked ours up, Robbie. Never again.” Tubbs raised his glass. “To friends.” Sonny and Rico stared across the conference room with red, narrowed eyes and nursed cups of strong, Crockett-brewed coffee. Trudy focused on her notes, and the marshals formed a three person cluster toward the end of the table. Castillo sat alone at the head, staring down at his hands. When he finally spoke his voice was low. “Understand this. The responsibility for what happened last night rests with me. We take that and move on. No one could have seen them using a LAW in Miami. Maybe I should have expected Moncado to sweep the lines.” Randy looked up. “There's a bigger question here. How the hell did they know that was our van? Lester and Stan were careful dudes. Some of the best at that I've ever seen. How did they know what van to hit?” “The leak.” Sonny's voice was flat and almost lifeless. “Someone in Metro-Dade sold them out. Sold us out.” “IAD is getting nowhere.” Castillo still hadn't looked up. “So we're taking it away from them. Effective now. Detective Joplin and Deputy O'Laughlin have the assignment. You'll find IAD's files in the intel office. I pulled them last night. The rest of you stay in your covers. Tubbs, has Moncado reached out yet?” “Not a sound, lieutenant. I'll give him another day and then maybe shake the tree.” “That would give his ships time to reach port.” Sonny spoke around his coffee cup. “That might be what he's waiting on. No point in calling unless he has a warehouse or two loaded with blow.” Castillo looked up, his dark eyes blazing with suppressed anger. “They won't get away with this. We find the leak and close it. Then we take down Moncado and Maynard. When they tried to kill my people they made it personal.” No one spoke until Castillo got up and headed for his office. Only then did Dave let out a low whistle. “Did someone just fuck up?” “You have no idea, pal.” Sonny could only nod. “The gloves and everything else are off now. You thought he was intense before? That was pre-school compared to what you're gonna see now.” Working together, it didn't take Trudy and Mindy long to succeed where Metro-Dade's Internal Affairs Division had failed. They huddled in Trudy's small office for four hours, going through the files, phone records, bank accounts, and scribbled notes. Starting from the beginning, they narrowed it down to one. Then they walked to Castillo's office. “They had all the pieces, lieutenant,” Trudy explained as Mindy laid out the files. “I don't know why they couldn't put it together.” Mindy nodded. Trudy was coming to understand there was a damned sharp brain lurking behind the red hair and the bright smile. “I don't think they wanted to see it because of bad blood between the Task Force and OCB. I'm sorry, lieutenant. The leak is in OCB.” “Who?” Trudy raised her hand. “Let us tell you how first, lieutenant. Then you can make sure our method's sound.” He nodded, not looking up or speaking, and she continued. “IAD was looking at detectives mostly. Higher-profile people they could use to make career-building cases. They started outside OCB, though. Robbery mostly.” Mindy nodded. “By the time they started looking at OCB they had their routine down. Make a big show of targeting two or three of the detectives in the division with the highest arrest numbers, convictions, clearance rates. Anything that stood out. They'd shake the tree and then move on when nothing fell out. I think they did get one guy in Homicide for having an affair with a hooker or something, but nothing connected to the leaks we'd been hearing about in the marshal's office.” Trudy shook her head. “Turns out they knew more about them than we did, lieutenant. Lots more.” “Go on.” Mindy cleared her throat. “What IAD missed was that most leaks are really small-time operators. People who feel they got passed over. Left out. They aren't all running around with their hand out or needing money to cover up some other activity.” “That's when we started looking at information they didn't use. Bank records, purchases, that stuff.” Trudy paused, really not wanting to say what came next. But there was no choice. “Our evidence points to Gorman, lieutenant. His bank accounts have been growing in the last few months, and he opened two new ones in different names that are also offshore.” She looked down, trying to control the feelings churning in her chest. “I've known Gorman since I came to OCB. He was never easy to get along with, but he wasn't a bad guy.” “Maybe not. But he might be now.” Castillo stared at the papers. “I want you to be sure. When you are, I'll arrest him myself. We can't wait for Metro-Dade.” He looked at Mindy. “Can the marshal's office support us?” “Yes. We can. When you give the word I'll reach out and get a warrant from the assistant U.S. attorney. Interfering with a Federal investigation, conspiracy to murder deputy marshals. We've got a good guy. I'm sure he'll stack on at least six more things.” “Good. Give it one more look. Be sure we didn't miss anything. Then let me know.” Once the two left, Castillo sat in his chair and turned to look out the window. OCB. The reality was still fighting for space in his head, even though his heart knew it had to be true. No one else knew about the Bug Van outside his immediate team, and Gorman could have fed them as much as they wanted about the surveillance operations. Once Stan went in and started replacing the parts Moncado's men had fried, he knew who to target. Rubbing his temples, Castillo kept staring out the window with unfocused eyes. He should have expected something like this to happen. Except I did. That's why I brought the people I did and left the others behind. But I should have expected someone to get their feelings hurt. Still, he would have though it would be someone new, not a veteran like Gorman. He had no doubt Trudy and Mindy had identified the right person, but he wanted to take the extra step. Not so much for Gorman, but for himself. He kept telling himself both Lester and Stan would be back on the job. They had to come back. He'd held Gina at the hospital, knowing how it tore at her to see Stan there. And later Trudy had held him when he blamed himself for what had happened. Now it was time to turn that page. Time to make others pay for what they'd done. No, he thought, turning away from the window, that's not quite right. Time to hold them accountable for what they've done. Sonny sat at the table, watching as Trudy and Mindy went into Castillo's office, came back out, and then headed back in almost half an hour later. Dave and Randy decided to stake out the scene of the attack. “Just in case some asshole wants to admire his handiwork,” Randy mentioned as they left, and Sonny couldn't fault his thinking. Castillo had clamped down hard on the hospital, with no information going out about who'd been wounded or if they're survived. Moncado's people were bound to get curious, and he doubted they'd run the gauntlet of people the marshal's service had thrown around Stan's and Lester's rooms. Tubbs also left. “I'm gonna see if Lester needs anything,” he announced. “Gina's got Stan sewn up, but Lester don't seem to have anyone checking on him.” “Good thinking, partner. I'll hang tight in case the lieutenant decides to move on something.” In fact he was kicking himself for not thinking of checking on Lester himself. There's no time for 'me' plays in this game. Damn it! I should know better by now. He looked down at the dregs of coffee in his cup and sighed. One corner of his mind said he should just go back to the boat and wait for the call, but that was also the selfish side. The thought of going a few more rounds with Jenny was damned appealing right about now. And if she was scouting him for someone, staying away just made him look connected to the Bug Van. Lurking in the back of it all was the sound of Gina's voice when she'd made him promise to hurt whoever had done this. Hurt them bad. He'd said yes, but was it a promise he could keep? He knew one answer was yes. Definitely yes. Burnett would do it and not think twice. But would he? He'd given his word to a woman who still meant a great deal to him, and he owed it to a man whose best friend he'd managed to get killed by being an overzealous asshole. How could he walk away from that and still look at himself in the mirror? He smiled. Same question I asked Robbie all those years ago. And now that it's me having to answer it's damned harder question. Castillo's office door opened and he strode out, suit coat buttoned and the slim leather tie a straight line down his shirt. Trudy and Mindy trailed along behind, Mindy breaking off to head for the intel office. “I'll make the call, lieutenant. You'll have a basic warrant before you get there.” Castillo just nodded, and when he looked at Sonny his eyes were ice. “Come on, Crockett. He have an arrest to make. Mindy, let me know when the warrant's ready. Call my car.” Sonny got up, looking at Trudy and shrugging when she looked straight again and avoided his gaze. “Where are we going, lieutenant?” “You'll see. Come on.” They drove in silence, Castillo guiding his big Ford through the traffic like a shark cruising through an gray concrete aquarium. Sonny rode up front and Trudy sat in the back seat with a small pile of folders. Once the phone buzzed. Castillo answered without taking his eyes off the road. “Yes? Good.” Then he hung up. From long experience Sonny knew to ask no questions, but he did start to wonder as the car made its way along a familiar route. Finally he had to ask. “Are we heading to OCB?” “Yes.” How the hell does that man pack so much into one word? “Do we need more equipment or something?” “No.” Castillo eased the big car to a stop in one of the parking spots along the side of the white Gold Coast building. “We're here to plug the leak.” “What?” Castillo started to speak, then something in his eyes changed. “Trudy?” “Mindy and I went through IAD's files. Looking for things they missed.” “Now that's a whole damned encyclopedia on its own.” “Yeah. They had the information but didn't know what they were looking for. Mindy and I found it. The leak is in OCB, Sonny.” “Some rookie looking to make a fast buck?” “No. It's worse than that.” She paused, and he could sense her trying to gather her thoughts and control her emotions at the same time. “It's Gorman.” “You're sure?” The thought jarred his head. Gorman wasn't a great detective, but he wasn't the run of the litter, either. He'd had their backs when they went through any number of doors, but Sonny could count on one hand the number of cases Gorman closed on his own. That had to be a kick in the balls for a cop like Gorman. A hard-charger in uniform and then perpetual bride's maid in OCB. Castillo spoke again, his sunglasses hiding his eyes. “Yes. She's sure. And so am I.” He opened the car door and stepped out into the scorching afternoon heat. “We have an arrest to make. Crockett, you and Joplin back me up. We're doing this as deputy marshals, and our warrant comes from the U.S. attorney's office, not the locals. Remember that.” Without another word he slammed the car door and strode toward the front doors of the building. “Gorman,” Sonny muttered, hurrying to keep pace with Castillo. “Who would have thought?” “I know,” Trudy muttered, her heels clicking as she kept pace. “He was there when I came on board.” Sonny was about to speak, but then remembered Calderone and Scotty Wheeler, his old partner. Money had a way of changing things, especially if you needed it badly enough. Maybe Gorman's weakness was something else. Still... He felt eyes on them as they entered the old OCB team room, desks once familiar and comfortable now seeming ratty and wasted in the flickering fluorescent lights. Only a few of the faces had names to go with them, which didn't surprise him considering how Marty had cleaned out the place when he formed the task force. Leaving only the second-best or those too new to have a track record. Still, he felt a subdued menace in the air. Like he was on hostile ground. It didn't sit right. Castillo didn't stop walking until he was in the face of the new OCB commander, a lieutenant who'd come over from homicide and thought he was the shit. Or he did until Castillo took off his sunglasses and unleashed the stare. Whatever the man had been about to say died on his lips and came out as a “How can I help you, lieutenant?” “Where's detective Gorman?” “Working on a suspect in Interview One.” The man turned, his cheap blue sportcoat billowing with the movement. “I can...” “You can wait here. And so can your people. This is Federal business.” “But...” “You heard the man, pal.” Sonny never cared much for homicide detectives. Always too quick to pin something on the first sucker they came across in an investigation. He never wanted to admit there were vice cops who did the same thing. “Just stay put and things will be fine.” Castillo had already turned and started down the corridor to the interview rooms. Crockett and Trudy hurried to catch up, reaching him as his hand went down to the knob on Interview One's door. “I'll handle this,” he said, opening the door. “Be ready in case they try to interfere.” Gorman had been hunched over a skinny kid who looked to be a corner dealer and probably Cuban. “You tell me who set that up, you little shit!” he thundered, sweat beads glittering on his bald head. “Tell me and maybe we can deal.” “Get out.” The two words were quiet, almost inaudible over the kid's sobbing. “Not you, Detective Gorman. You stay.” Castillo waited until the kid left the room, watching Gorman with expressionless eyes. “What hell? You bust in here, ruin my interrogation, and then let the suspect walk! Have you lost your mind? Have you...” Castillo's left hand flashed out like a striking adder, and Gorman's head slammed into the interrogation table with a thud as his fingers locked around the big man's throat. Sonny had seen him do that once before with ex-CIA spook, but this was worse. Gorman's fingers scrabbled without success, trying to latch onto Castillo's arm. His face went from white to red as he gasped for breath. “You helped give up my people. Almost got them killed.” “Marty!” Trudy's voice whipped over Sonny's head, reminding him he should step in as well. But part of him didn't want to. Part of him wanted to see the life leave Gorman's body. To see him pay for what he'd done. Castillo didn't move, but his fingers relaxed, just holding down now instead of killing. “How did they get to you? Never mind. We'll find out later. Wayne Gorman, you are under arrest for interfering in a Federal investigation and conspiracy to murder Federal law officers. Deputy Crockett, cuff this son of a bitch.” Sonny pulled out his cuffs and slapped them on Gorman's big wrists. “Hope those aren't too tight for you, Wayne old pal. Wait, I take that back. I don't give a shit if they are too tight.” “But I...” Trudy's voice was a hiss now. “We've got you, baldy. All your bank accounts, all that money. Your phone logs. We've got it all.” Sonny grabbed the cuff chain, pulling the big man to his feet. “Come on, sweetheart. Let's get you introduced to your new pals down in Federal lockup.” They led the big man back through the office, Sonny meeting the gaze of anyone who looked to challenge their passing. Castillo stopped the new lieutenant with a glance. “He's under arrest for conspiracy to murder Federal law enforcement officers. He sold out to a drug cartel. Anyone who interferes gets a ticket to join him.” “He was on your watch, Castillo.” The new guy smirked. “He's not my problem.” “Wrong. He was here when I took command of OCB. And he went bad on your watch. This can get as ugly as you want it to be.” Sonny chuckled. “You're in the big leagues now, pal. Maybe you should go back to homicide and frame some gang-bangers. Might be something you're good at.” Gorman was still wheezing to breathe when they arrived at the chief deputy's office. The prisoner transfer was easy enough, Crockett reclaiming his cuffs when a massive deputy with arms covered in tattoos slapped his own on a now-frightened Gorman. “I didn't know Stan was with your outfit, lieutenant. Honest. He said he was working with the state police or some shit. I didn't know!” he almost shrieked the last words as the deputy tossed him through the door like bald rag doll. Trudy grabbed her files. “I'll stay here and help them fill in the blanks, lieutenant. I'm sure I can catch a ride back.” They were about halfway back to task force headquarters when Sonny broke the silence. “That was intense, Marty.” “He betrayed us. Almost got Stan and Lester killed.” Castillo's jaw twitched. “He's lucky he's still alive.” Reaching down, he turned on the headlights as the sun started losing its hold on Miami. “I know. But we have to stay focused. How long before Moncado knows his source is gone? Will that scare him off?” “No. He's too confident. And there's too much pressure from Maynard. We may be essentially deaf and blind now, but we know what he needs and we know we're the only ones who can meet that need.” “Why do you think he did it?” “Pride and money. In that order. I didn't bring him into the task force for a reason, and that was because Gorman always had a chip on his shoulder. But he'd see that as us being afraid he'd make us look bad. Especially when he saw you and Rico come back. And once he got the money he was theirs for as long as they needed him.” “IAD really screwed up, didn't they?” “Yes. And the reckoning will come later.” Sonny knew from the set of Castillo's jaw there would be a reckoning. A very painful one. “But you're right, Sonny. We need to stay focused on the mission and the target. To do anything else now is dangerous.” Sonny nodded. “You think he was telling the truth? About thinking Stan and Lester were working with the state police?” “Detective Switek has good street senses, Sonny. You never gave him credit for that. And I know he didn't like Gorman. He was practicing good operational security. It may have saved this operation.” Sonny swallowed the rebuke without flinching. Castillo was right. He'd never really taken Stan seriously until lately, and he'd always missed how in touch with the street Stan was, even when he was working a desk. Dear God I have to do better if I'm going to survive at this level. This is a whole new ball game. He looked out the window, watching cars flash past as they kept to the left lane. “So you think Moncado's still in the dark about us?” “We can hope so. Assume he knows but continue like he doesn't.” Castillo turned the big car into the underground garage. “I want you to help Mindy take stock of our surveillance tomorrow. Find out what's left. If we're lucky he'll think the state police were watching Pedrosa and Reno, not him. We may be able to save something.” “And if not?” “We go with what we have.” Castillo shut off the car and sat for a moment, the ticking of the cooling engine the only sound reaching their ears. “It's the only option we have.” “I know.” Sonny stared at the dusty vinyl dashboard. “I want this guy, lieutenant. Don't pull me off this. I don't care if Maynard makes me. Like I said before, I'm perfect bait. He won't be able to walk away once he sees me.” “No one's pulling you off. But stay focused. I need you on your game.” Castillo climbed out of the car, adjusting his suit coat as his shoes hit the cool concrete of the garage floor. “Don't forget that. Now go back to the boat and get some rest. We're at a standstill until Tubbs hears from Moncado.” It was well after dark by the time Sonny turned the Ferrari into his normal parking spot and shut off the engine. He could see the shadow of her boat tied up in its normal spot, and a part of him wanted to see if she was awake. Even though Stan and Lester were both still alive, the realization of what could have happened kept slugging him in the gut. It was too much like finding Larry Zito in the locker room shower, water tricking down over his lifeless body and that damned needle hanging out of his arm. It had taken days for Crockett to lose the stench of unwashed socks and stale sweat, and years before the image took a back seat to more recent ones replaying in his head. As he walked, he tried to focus on the sounds of the water. The tinkle of bells on some of the boats lining the dock. And the creak of ropes, chains and masts as the ships themselves stirred under the soft caress of an onshore breeze building as the heat of the day fled. But he couldn't escape the stench of burned rubber and melted plastic overlaid with hot metal and high explosives. He hadn't counted on her being awake. He was just past her boat when a familiar, throaty voice stopped him in his tracks. “What? No hello?” “Sorry, Jenny.” He shrugged. “I wasn't paying a damned bit of attention. Probably would have walked off the end of the dock if you hadn't said something.” She had her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and he liked the way it highlighted her cheekbones and the structure of her jaw. An oversize t-shirt floated around her trim form in the breeze, and he could tell when it touched her skin she wasn't wearing anything under it. “Want to come on board and have a drink? You don't need to worry about that Elvis of yours. Marina guy fed him when you weren't home by nightfall.” She chuckled. “I wish he took care of me like that.” “I don't want anyone else feeding you. I though that was my job.” She snorted, but he could see her eyes glittering in the dim light from the two stern lanterns. “Then you'd better get up here and get to work, mister. Let me pour you a drink.” As soon as his feet hit the deck, Sonny took her in his arms. She gasped, then melted against him. He slid his fingers through her ponytail and tugged her head slightly back, kissing her half-open lips. “Care for an appetizer?” “Feels like you missed me.” She smiled and pressed herself against him, moving her hips. “I know I missed you.” Sonny knew he needed to focus. On what had happened to Stan and Lester and how to move the operation forward from that. But all he could think of right now, in this breeze-swept instant, was how good Jenny felt in his arms. And how his need matched hers. In the end they barely made it below deck, and she didn't bat an eye when he slipped out of his shoulder rig and let the big 4506 fall to one of the compartment settees. Somehow she sensed his mood and things went slower, almost gently. He doubted she was ever really a gentle lover, but she spent more time letting him hold her and just being with her. In the end they made their way to her berth again, lying on the small bunk and holding each other. She ran her long, slim fingers along his ribs. “Rough day?” “Somethin' like that. How was yours?” “Good.” She giggled. “You came back. No, I did get some work done on the boat. She needs a bit of TLC from time to time. The first owner didn't know a damned thing about boats, and I keep finding things that never got done. Another day, maybe two, and she'll be good to go again.” She looked up at him and smiled. “Not like me. I don't need that much time before I can go again.” “Good thing, too.” Sonny fought back the urge to ask her where she was going. He didn't want to make her lie this early in the game. Rico was right. He just needed to let it roll and see what happened. And try not to get too invested in her. That would be the hard part. “I'm glad you think so.” She kissed him, running her fingers through his hair. Sonny never made it to the St Vitus Dancethat night. Ricardo Tubbs looked through the open hospital room door. He could just see Stan's hair through the bandages, even the parts that had been blackened and singed by the explosion. Gina sat by the bed, his hand gripped in hers. She looked up when she sensed movement and smiled. “Rico! I'm glad you came. But where's...” “The lieutenant wanted him to stay at the office.” Rico figured it was only partly a lie. “They're working on who leaked the information that let the Bug Van be targeted.” Rico's eyes narrowed. “They'll find him, too. Trudy's wicked smart with that stuff, and she's got one of the marshals to help her.” “There was a leak?” “Yeah. Somewhere in Metro-Dade.” Rico took her hand, leading her away from the bed. “He can hear us even if he's doped up, so I don't want to agitate him. Turns out the marshals have been hearing rumors of a leak for months now. IAD's clomping around, but those chumps couldn't find their own asses with a map, instructions, a flashlight, and someone else looking for them.” He shook his head. “But Trudy...that girl will find a leak if it's there.” “Thanks for trying to make me laugh, Rico.” Gina smiled a sad smile, looking back at the bed. “I'm just glad he wasn't in the van. Lester, too. If something happened to Lester and he lived it would destroy Stan. And me.” “I can see you care for him.” “Care? I love him, Rico. With all my heart.” She sniffed, trying to fight back tears. “Who did this?” “A bad guy. A really bad guy. Former death squad type from Columbia.” Rico debated how much he should say. How badly he should scare Gina. “Is it part of that stupid Columbian-Dominican gang thing?” “No. This makes them look like kids with spit wads.” He made his decision. She deserves to know. She needs to know what Stan's up against. “This Columbian works for Maynard.” “Captain Real Estate? That ghost of Crockett's?” “Yeah. But he's real. A real bad dude. And that's who we're after.” A thin voice rasped from under the bandages. “Don't worry, Rico. If there's a leak they don't know about you.” “Stan!” Gina ran to the bed, wrapping her arms around him and almost pulling out an IV and at least three other monitors. “Baby! It's me!” “I know, Gina. Hard to talk, but Rico needs to know.” Stan stopped, and Rico could see readings spiking as the big guy mustered his strength. “I told OCB we were working with the state police. Lester and me. They didn't know we were with you guys.” “Stan, that's brilliant. You are one sharp cat.” He looked down at Gina's tear-streaked face and smiled. “And lucky, too. I'll leave you two alone. I want to go say hi to Lester.” Stan's voice cracked. “Is he...” “He's fine, Stan. Got the same facial treatment you did, so you both should look better once the bandages come off.” Rico chuckled. “But yeah, he's in the room next door. He ended up diving into a sloping gutter, so a good bit of the blast missed him. I'll bet you shouted and saved his life.” “Just saw a flash...had to let Larry know...” Stan's voice was winding down like an old watch. “You just hold tight to Gina and rest, big guy.” Rico squeezed Gina's shoulder. “You take care of him.” Lester's room was quiet except for the ticking and pulsing of various machines dripping fluids or tracking vital signs. Lester's face was wrapped like Stan's, but he also had a splint on an arm and one of his legs. Rico walked over to the side of the bed. “Hey, Lester. Just wanted to stop by and let you know we're trackin' down the chumps who did this to you. I'll be back as often as I can to say hi and see if you need anything. You're part of the team now, and don't ever forget that. And you earned your spot. Ain't no bigger compliment for a man or a cop.” Reaching down he squeezed Lester's hand, and felt tears form in his eyes when Lester squeezed back. “Get better soon. We need you and Stan like you don't know.” Back in the hall, Ricardo Tubbs took the time to straighten his suit coat and check the line of his shirt with his dark dress pants. This wasn't the time to slip, to let things out. Rico had to be in control. In order to meet with Moncado, to keep up the facade of Rico Cooper from New York City, he had to be in control. If Stan had told everyone he and Lester were working with the state police, there was still a chance Moncado wouldn't think they were connected. And that meant everything was riding on him and his ability to be Cooper. As Rico walked down the corridor, trying to block the acrid hospital smell from his mind, he thought back on Cooper. He wasn't like Sonny Burnett. He wasn't even really a formed, single personality. Cooper was whatever was needed. A slick businessman from New York. A one step from rasta island guy looking to score. A not-so-slick Bronx dealer. You name it, Cooper could be it. But now, with the task force and the apartment, Cooper had to take form. Maybe it's Castillo's way of telling me it's time he thought with a smile as he walked through the whooshing automatic doors and out to the hospital parking lot. Duty done, Rico had the rest of the evening to kill. He didn't feel like going back to the office, even if it gave him a chance to admire Mindy. Maybe it was time for a night in at Casa Cooper. Sit on the roof and watch the city come to life and slowly die as the night took its course. It was a good spot for thinking, one he'd come to appreciate. He was just pulling in when the car phone buzzed. Castillo's voice hit his ear like a brick. “Gorman was the leak.” “Damn. Stan told me he'd been telling everyone there he and Lester were working with the state police.” “Gorman said the same thing. So we still have a chance.” “Do you want me to come in?” “No. Take the night. I sent Sonny and Mindy home, too. Trudy...” “It's cool, Marty. You go be with your lady and take care of yourself. Or let her take care of you. This is on Moncado, and we'll set it right soon enough.” “Thank you, Ricardo.” The phone buzzed hollow in his ear, so Tubbs hung up. It might not have been the wisest thing to mention Trudy, but he didn't care now. And like Sonny had said, if anyone deserved happiness it was those two. Passing through the lobby, he checked his mailbox before keying in his private elevator code and heading for the penthouse. Shrugging off his suit coat, he left the Chief's Special in its hip holster and poured a scotch over ice before heading out to the rooftop patio. The lights of the city streamed out all around him, and down toward the marina he imagined he could see Sonny doing whatever it is he did on nights like this. “Probably that Jenny chick,” he muttered with a light stab of jealousy. Even if she was targeting him, and least Sonny was getting some affection out of the deal. Rico sipped the sharp whiskey, trying to keep his mind away from the path it had chosen. Seeing Stan and Lester like that always steered him to thinking of holding his dying brother in his arms, and then to Angelina and then to Rico Junior, wherever he was. Rico was sure the boy was still alive somewhere. “I'm his father,” he whispered to the uncaring night. “I'd know if he was dead. Wouldn't I? They claim mothers have that connection. Why can't fathers?” His own father had. He'd know Rafael was dead even before Rico called. Well before the good-intentioned police chaplain reeking of cheap rye had shown up at the door to lisp about how sorry the department was and to offer his condolences. In the end he was lucky the older Tubbs had only slugged him hard enough to loosen three teeth. They hadn't spoken since that day. Rico didn't know why. It was as if his father blamed the uniform, and by extension the younger son who still wore that uniform, for the death of his oldest boy. Rico sent a card every Christmas, hoping maybe it would make the dingy walk-up seem a bit brighter even for a second or two. His sister stopped calling once he said he was staying in Miami, and his mother had died six years before so she couldn't say a word. But it was all still there; the legacy that drove him to Miami and ultimately into the arms of the daughter of his brother's killer. Maybe it was the best of them, or the worst of them, that came together to make the baby boy. He wasn't sure, and wondered if he'd ever know. It was rare for Rico to think of himself. Usually he was trying to keep Crockett together. But since they'd been gone for a year, their roles had changed a bit. Crockett seemed more at ease with himself than Rico had ever seen. The tantrums were more or less gone, replaced by a maturity that had likely been there all along but hidden under a ton of denial. And now Rico felt more on the edge. More uprooted. Finishing his drink, Rico looked down at the cars streaming along amber-lit roadways. Sonny had even been able to keep Burnett in check, something he wasn't sure about when they got back together. It wasn't a completely comfortable thing, but there was control. Maybe being around the marshals helped. As Sonny himself had unwittingly pointed out, they came from the same place. Sighing, he turned away. It was time to see about getting some real sleep. Moncado would be calling any time, and Cooper had to be ready to step on stage without giving the show away.

Morning found the team assembled around the conference table, drinking coffee and going over notes. Sonny looked at his list. “I'll get with Mindy once we're done and go through the surveillance stuff. See what's still viable and what's done for. I also think we might want to reach out to Izzy. See if he's heard anything. That LAW made a big noise, and Metro-Dade's not really doing a good job of making it go away.” “Dave and I had overwatch on the site most of yesterday,” Randy reported in his matter-of-fact way. “No sign of anyone coming back to gloat or take trophies. Metro-Dade did have it taped off, though, and a unit was there until dusk. You want us to try again?” “No. I need you close at hand in case Moncado moves.” Castillo nodded. “Good job, though. If we were dealing with someone less professional I think it would have paid off. But Moncado's a pro.” “Roger that.” Randy leaned back in his chair. “Oh, and I wanted to pass along the chief deputy's best wishes for Stan and Lester. He was also damned happy with that present you dumped in his lap yesterday.” Dave laughed. “He's been feuding with Metro-Dade for over a year now about this and the other. Now you gave him a big ol' card to play. He also said there's a tactical team on call for the task force if we need it.” “Thank you.” Castillo nodded. “I should also let you know that I've requested that all three of you be assigned to the task force so long as it remains operational. Any objections?” Mindy spoke first. “No, sir. Not a one. This is the most I've been able to do since I got to Miami.” “We're in.” Dave spoke for Randy, who just nodded. “This is the most damned fun we've had in years.” “Good. We'll be busy until Stan and Lester return to duty. Thanks to Stan's quick thinking we may still have a window of opportunity with Tico Moncado. I don't know how long it will last. That's all, people. Tubbs, once Crockett's done helping Mindy you two go contact Moreno. If he knows anything I want it.” “You got it, lieutenant.” Sonny looked down the table at Mindy and smiled. “Let's see what's left of the web those two put together.” The thought triggered others in his head, and he stopped. “I just thought of something. Robbie. We need to tell him to pull the wires out of that booth.” “Do it.” Sonny made the call, reaching Robbie at home and taking seconds to relay the information. “We don't think you're in any danger,” he finished, “but I want to be sure. Get rid of the equipment. This guy might be cleaning up after what he thinks is Pedrosa's mess.” Robbie chuckled, the sound hollow over the lines. “You got it, Sonny. And he's not getting at me or the club. I've got my own security. Some parts of the family still aren't too happy with me so I have to be careful.” “Yeah. And...thanks for the other night, man.” “Any time, buddy. Next time bring those scout-snipers along. We'll have a full-on Da Nang party.” “You got it.” Sonny smiled as he hung up the phone. “Robbie's on it. Now let's go look through their stuff and see what's still operational.” It took just under an hour, and when they came back out of the tech room Mindy was still shaking her head. “It looks like Moncado found and fried just about every bug tied to Pedrosa. One or two are still good, but they're on places Reno used mostly. But we still have one active tap on a line Moncado used out of his house in the Keys. It's still good.” Sonny nodded. “His crew cleaned house on anything tied to Pedrosa, lieutenant.” Castillo nodded. “I was afraid of that. Mindy, see what you can do about keeping that tap working. Crockett, you and Tubbs go pay Moreno a visit.” Tubbs got up from the table, closing one of Trudy's intelligence briefing folders. “I think I got a better handle on this Moncado cat now, lieutenant. Trudy put together a damned good briefing.” Trudy blushed. “Thanks, Rico. Just doing my job.” “And a damned good job it is.” Randy chimed in from his end of the table. “Dave and I are going through this stuff, too. If we have to take him out, it's good to know how he thinks and might react.” He looked down the table at Castillo. “Did you have an assignment for us, lieutenant?” “Get out on the range. Make sure your rifles are sighted in and everything's ready to go. We won't have an advantage in numbers, at least not right away. So we need it in precision.” “Roger that. We'll go do what we do best.” Randy looked at Crockett and Tubbs. “Page us if you need any backup, guys.” “You got it.” Tubbs grinned. “Now let's go visit Miami's own open-air freak show.” “I think I'd rather drop an engine block on my foot.” Sonny sighed. “But if it's gotta be done...” They found Izzy in his natural environment: trying to scam people out of their money. This time it looked like he'd left the shoes at home, opting instead for something more dramatic. But he was still wearing the sequin-encrusted tuxedo jacket. “Joo know what I mean, gen'lemen. When joor lady is all in the mood, but joo are just too tired. Too exhilarated from the day's laboriousness.” Izzy held court in the open air patio of one of the smaller hotels dotting the beach line, and a small crowd gathered to hear his pitch. Sonny was about to walk over when Tubbs held up his hand. “Wait. I want to see what he's got for my exhilaration from being laborious.” On cue, Izzy turned back to his rapt audience. “But I have something for joo that will ease your mind an' fire your libidos. Bring the young buck to the bedroom an' romanticalize those invasive moments with jore lady. It comes to me from a medicine woman. Made from the very horns of bulls from Pamplona. Hemingway wrote of those bulls, joo know. The very essence of masculinitizing powers an' brute strength. Joo apply this tonic to jore manhood, an' your lady she will be gratificationized in the bedroom.” Tubbs shook his head. “Ok that's enough.” He raised his voice. “Izzy! We need to talk!” Sonny nodded. “Come on, Izzy! What did we tell you about that stuff?” He looked over at one white-haired bystander and shook his head. “Last guy who tried to use that stuff almost lost his manhood.” “Lies! Why do joo tell such lies?” Izzy frowned, slipping the brown bottle into the pocket of his jacket. “I will be right back, gen'lemen. For the sake of jore ladies, wait for my return.” Walking over, his eyes flashed. “Why do joo try to crush my entrepenurialized efforts? Capitalism, man! It made this country great.” “Spare us the talk, Izzy.” Rico moved in closer, making Izzy flinch. “We need to know what you've been hearing.” “You mean the fireworks?” Izzy snorted. “That was some outside firepower, joo can bet on that. It's got the streets as quiet as jore bedroom without my tonic.” Sonny chuckled. “Maybe so, Izzy. But there's gotta be some other word out there. Pedrosa's dead, so his action's up for grabs.” “No one's moving in. The word is anyone who does goes up like the van.” Izzy waved his hands in the air. “Bam! There's also been some talk about shooters from out of town. Scary dudes from exotic island localities, or so they say. Or mainland localities. Joo know how it is.” He scrunched up his forehead. “I did hear one of those Colombian guys say they can't get guns no more. Someone shut down t' trade.” He raised his hands. “That's all I know.” “So in other words you don't know squat.” “Joo call it squat, I say the street is saying nothing. People are scared, man! Even those crazy Columbians trying to go to war with the Dominicans. They're scared. An' if those people are scared, no one else talks.” Sonny nodded. “Go back to your scam, Moreno. But if anything breaks, and I mean anything, you call. I don't want to have to come looking for you again.” They were on their way back to the office, Crockett easing the Ferrari through traffic, when Tubbs broke the silence. “You think he's telling the truth?” “I think the little bozo's scared. And he's scared because everyone else is scared. You heard him. Even the Columbian-Dominican feud has gone on hold. Everyone's waiting for the other shoe to drop.” “Yeah, and we don't even know what size it is.” “Pretty damned big if it can stop all those nutjobs cold. It has to be Moncado. The Columbians would know his reputation and likely be scared to death of him. All he'd have to do is give the word.” “And you think the out-of-town shooters are his?” “It fits. He blows in, firepower goes up, and the local gun supply dries up. It's just setting the stage.” Tubbs was about to reply when his pager buzzed, demanding attention over the whine of the Ferrari's engine. He looked down and grinned. “And speak of the devil. Moncado just reached out and touched someone. Me. Step on it, partner. This is one call I'm not waiting on.” Back in the conference room, Sonny sat down to watch Rico make his call. Just don't seem right without Stan and Lester here he thought, watching his partner hit buttons on the phone system like a pro. Something else that snake Maynard has to pay for. Right now all he could do is sit and watch, and it was an uncomfortable feeling. Rico went right into Cooper mode. “Good to hear from you, Mr. Moncado. I was starting to wonder if our deal was off.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “No, there are no second thoughts in New York. Some concern at the delay, but no second thoughts.” He smiled, rolling his eyes. “Maybe they do need to slow down, but in New York City it's all business all the time. My people like to see their money making more money, not waiting for a payday that might never come.” Rico listened for a minute. “And they also want me to come back north if there's no deal to be made.” He shook his head. “No one is trying to pressure you. It's just the reality of our business.” He listened again. “Another meeting? If it will help you settle the deal into place, I don't see any reason not to meet. And I'll bring Burnett of course.” Tubbs sketched a dollar sign on the table with his index finger. “His boats and trucks are sitting idle now. He's not making any money while we dance around. I think he's getting a bit pissed.” He stifled a chuckle. “Where did you have in mind? The Sanctuary again? Sounds good to me. I like their drinks. But this time I pick the time. Tonight at ten. The sooner we seal this the better my people will feel.” Sonny nodded as soon as Rico hung up the phone. “I'll page Dave and Randy and see if we can get them into place for overwatch again.” He looked over at the open office door. “If that's ok with you, lieutenant.” “Do what you need to do. The sooner we can pin Maynard to the wall the better.” Castillo's eyes narrowed. “But be careful with Moncado. How did he sound?” “Controlled but desperate.” Tubbs outlined a box with his fingers. “He's in that, and Maynard's drawing the walls in tighter and tighter. He got really nervous when I mentioned going back to New York.” “Good. Play it however you need to. We still have a deputy on call if he wants to see one of your New York people.” Castillo allowed them a thin smile. “Although I think we're past that now. He needs this deal too badly.” “You got that right.” Rico looked across the table. “I hope you don't mind me setting Burnett up as the bad guy.” “Naw. I was thinking the same thing. Any good transport man gets pissed when his boats and trucks aren't working. And I, I mean Burnett, has to be on call for this deal 24-7. So there's no other product moving because of the size of the deal.” He nodded. “I think you played it just right. And I'll add to it at the meeting. I heard him pick Robbie's club again.” “Is that a problem?” “No. I'm sure he got the booth cleaned up as soon as he hung up the phone. And he's smart enough to not approach us if he sees us coming in.” Sonny paused, thinking back on his friend from college and later Vietnam. “No, Robbie knows the score.” He reached for the phone. “I'll page Dave and see if we can get them into position. I'd feel a damned sight better knowing they're up there. The rest of the day was a blur as far as Sonny was concerned. After getting Dave and Randy read into the plan, he spent some time going over his weapons, knowing there was a chance he'd need them tonight. But there was now the possibility they wouldn't be enough. How many LAWs did that damned arms dealer buy, and how many of them did Moncado have? He didn't think the man had connected the Bug Van with them, but as soon as Maynard saw a photo of him a different connection would be made. It was a risk no matter what spin you put on it. Sonny sighed, letting the slide run forward on the 4506 with a satisfying crack of metal on metal and it locked a round into the chamber. Dumping the magazine he added another round to replace the one he'd just loaded and then slammed the magazine home. Turning down the safety catch and dropping the hammer was the final touch before the pistol went back into his shoulder rig. Its weight, balanced by two loaded magazines suspended in a pouch on the right side of the rig, was a familiar comfort for a night that might prove more dangerous than they anticipated. But that was part of what drew Sonny back to Miami and led him to the task force. His ex-wife had once accused him of getting high on the action. In a way she hadn't been wrong. That thrill was something Sonny had always known, starting with high school football and the University of Miami and then graduating to Vietnam. Combat was terrifying, no question. But it also had a spark – a charge – Sonny had found nowhere else. Fast boats didn't do it. Drinking dulled the edge for a time, but he knew it was a crutch he didn't need and one that could get him killed when focus mattered. He'd been ready to give it up when he found a similar spark with Caitlin, but with her dead the combat thrill was all he had left. At least it felt that way some days. Looking up, he saw Rico watching him with an amused expression. “What? I fart or something and didn't notice?” “No. You've got that 'poor Sonny' face on again.” Rico chuckled. “I get it, partner. It's the action that keeps me coming back, too. I know it ain't all there is, but what else do we have? Either of us.” “Yeah. Maybe that's what makes us so damned good at the Job. But there's days I wonder...” “So do I. But this can't be one of those days.” “No. It can't.” Sonny got up and looked across the table. “Let's get some food and then go see if we can make Moncado piss his tight little Columbian pants. God! I hate the way those fools dress.” “Is everything ready?” Sonny almost jumped. He hadn't heard Castillo come back into the room. “I think so, lieutenant. Dave and Randy will be in overwatch before 1800. That gives them about four hours on station before Moncado should arrive. Mindy, I mean Deputy O'Laughlin, is going to monitor Moncado's remaining bugs just to see if anything's coming down the line. And Detective Joplin is checking on Stan and Lester.” “Good. They need to see as many of us as possible. Let them know we don't forget our wounded brothers.” Castillo paused. “I'm available as backup if things get hot.” “Good. Hopefully it won't, but we'll plan for the worst.” Sonny looked at Tubbs and winked. “Now let's get that damned food.” They took their time, lingering over coffee once the waitress cleared the plates, and started for The Sanctuary just after nine. “You care if we get there early?” Sonny asked as he eased the Ferrari away from the curb. “Not really. But what's out story if he sees the car?” “Yours is in the shop. I offered to give you a lift. Simple enough.” They drove in silence for a time before Sonny asked, “You're sure he sounded OK on the phone? Ready to deal?” “I think so. He's a hard cat to read, but I do think he wants this next deal. Trudy's intel said his ships should be docking tomorrow, so the product will be in place. If Pedrosa told him anything, he likely thinks Cooper prints his own money and can deal at the drop of a hat.” Tubbs grinned. “And it's not like he can take eight hundred keys down to the corner dealer if this deal goes south. He's stuck with us and he's smart enough to know it.” “Yeah. I just don't want to see him get cold feet and try to pull out.” “That's where Burnett comes in. Convince him the price of pulling out is more than he wants to pay.” Sonny nodded, feeling the suppressed instincts floating up from fog in the back of his mind. “That I can do, partner. That I can do.” But at what cost? Hell...does it matter? That bastard almost killed Stan and Lester. It's worth it. It was just after ten when they pulled up outside The Sanctuary. Sonny turned the Ferrari over to one of Robbie's bulky valet attendants and then headed straight to the door. “We're on the list,” he said the big man who could have been the parking attendant's brother. “Burnett and Cooper.” The big man scanned the VIP list and nodded. “You are. Have a nice evening, gents.” Then they were in and making their way past the bar toward the back booths. Moncado was already there, sitting at a table close to the emergency exit. He appeared to be alone, but Sonny could feel eyes on his and suspected at least one bodyguard loomed close by somewhere. Those little spider feet were tapping again. He let Rico lead, keeping a step or two back so he could react if it turned out Moncado was stupid enough to try to take them out in Robbie's club. He wasn't. The man rose, his goatee neatly trimmed and eyes without expression even though his mouth smiled. “Mr. Cooper! Mr. Burnett! Please, have a seat. I took the liberty of ordering for you. Scotch and Jack Daniel's, is that right? She will have the drinks here shortly.” Sonny gave a short nod, while Rico went full-on Cooper. “I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Moncado. He have much to talk about, yes?” Moncado's eyes darted from one man to the other, shifting focus to scan the background. Sonny gave his best Burnett sneer. “Don't worry, pal. We came alone.” “It's not that I do not trust you, Burnett,” he said in a tone proclaiming the opposite of his words, “but there has been much cleaning to do in the aftermath of Carlos Pedrosa.” “I'm not surprised. He was out of his league.” Rico raised a hand. “And he's dead now. We need to move on with this business, yes?” “Of course. Of course.” Moncado paused when the blonde waitress arrived with their drinks. Once she left he continued. “And that is why I wanted to meet with you. A shipment identical to the last will be ready for pick-up tomorrow. The same volume, but better purity. Almost one hundred percent. I feel that might be worth a bit more to your organization.” “Maybe, but my organization's also worried about yours. So far two of your people have come to bad ends, and they were both in management.” Rico sipped his scotch and allowed Moncado a thin smile. “They are concerned about your security. As well as the long-term stability of the relationship.” “Your people need not worry. Reno was a mistake, and Carlos...well...as Burnett put it he was out of his league. Had you not killed him I would have done it myself. As I said at our last meeting.” “And I conveyed that to my New York associates. They appreciate the gesture, but I'm sure you can understand that they're still concerned.” Moncado nodded. “Of course. Security is a top concern of mine as well. That's why cleaning up after Pedrosa has been such a challenge. It seems he was, how do you say, wired.” “What!” Sonny played his Burnett outrage to the full. “You've got cops sniffing all over your organization and you expect us to trust you?” “Calm, Mr. Burnett. Not my organization. Carlos' little operation. My end remains secure. Of that you may be sure. But how do I know those cops didn't find him through you?” “He never met any of my people until the second deal went down. And don't get me started about Reno and the Coast Guard.” Sonny snorted. “Hell, you ask me it was Reno and his little heroin connection that turned the cops on to Pedrosa.” Moncado's eyes narrowed. “Heroin?” “Guess Little Carlos didn't mention that in the board meetings, did he?” Rico nodded. “Reno had some kind of arrangement with a punk dealer to run heroin. Pedrosa hinted he controlled the supply before his...demise.” “My organization does not deal in heroin. This may call for some more investigation.” “I think the Coast Guard done investigated that right out of the water for you.” This time Moncado's smile was almost genuine. “You have a way with words, Burnett.” Sonny smiled. “I get by.” “I am sure.” Like flipping a switch Moncado cut Sonny out of the conversation and turned back to Rico. “But my offer remains on the table, Mr. Cooper. We can proceed with the higher-grade product at the same price as before. A show of good faith on my part. I still find it odd that these problems all started when you arrived, but Reno had also just assumed his new position in the organization. A mistake on Pedrosa's part, it would seem.” “A big mistake.” Rico leaned forward. “And it was Reno and his pal Tio who brought up the heroin, Moncado, not me. So if you're having problems with security I'd suggest you put your own house in order first. My people want me back in New York to handle certain issues, and it's easy for me to book a flight and head back.” “Of course. Just as I could find another buyer.” “I don't think so. Not for the amount we can buy at one time. Or the expansion we offer. The whole east coast and as far west as Detroit.” Rico smiled. “You'd have to hit a lot of street corners to even come close.” “And you'd have to deal with a lot of punks before you could find someone who could bring in as much weight at the purity I can. Ninety percent is low for our product, Mr. Cooper.” Moncado leaned back in his chair and signaled a passing waitress for another round of drinks. “But you already know this.” The two men argued back and forth for a time. Sonny followed with half his attention, the other half focused on the club around them. He thought he'd picked out one of Moncado's bodyguards; a big, swarthy man who looked vaguely Cuban wearing a well-cut suit and nursing a drink at the bar. He also spotted one of Robbie's security men watching the guy closely and suppressed a smile. Robbie hires good people. Damned good people. There was an ex-military air to the man; how he stood, his haircut, how poorly he wore civilian clothes. Ten to one he's ex-Columbian military of some kind. Bad news right there. But that was the only one he picked out in his search. Either Moncado had more near the door, which was too far away for any kind of close security, or he was fairly confident the meeting would be peaceful. Or the single bodyguard was really good. Sonny guessed it was a combination of the last two. Scan done, he focused back on the conversation. Moncado and Rico were still dancing back and forth about security and shipment cost with no end in sight. He sensed Tubbs had pushed as far as he was going to, and Moncado appeared willing to keep dancing until the sun came up. It was time, he decided, to display some of Burnett's charm. Reaching under his dark gray blazer he pulled out the 4506 and slammed it flat down on the table, ice cubes chattering in their glasses as the heavy stainless steel pistol hit the wood. “Let's cut the chase. My boats are sitting idle, losing money. My trucks aren't moving. Losing money. And the more money I lose, the more likely it is my drivers go to someone else to make their living.” He smiled, a thin thing that just touched his eyes. “Sorry to be dramatic, but my end of the business is different than yours. I only get paid when there are shipments moving, and I can't wait forever like you two. I know of at least three other organizations that need transportation now. I've been patient with this, but that time's over. Give me a reason to stay or you'll be finding new boats and trucks.” He slid the pistol back into his holster. “And trust me, you won't find another organization with reach or the record mine has in all of south Florida.” Moncado's hand had tracked toward his own coat when Sonny's pistol flashed out, but settled back to the table as soon as he saw the reason behind the gesture. Now both his hands came up and he clapped slowly. “Bravo, Burnett. I admire both your flair for the dramatic and ability to bring clarity to muddy waters.” He turned to Rico. “Is what he says true?” “Yeah. My people checked his organization out before authorizing me to talk to him. He's never had a bust, guarantees his service, and can move product as far north as the Carolinas without having to bring on more people. Without him the deal's set back weeks. Maybe months if we have to build our own network.” “And you'd see a fight over that, pal.” Sonny raised a hand. “Not from me. I've got my market already. But from the other small fry who'd be pissed at you cutting in on their turf. With me, I've already got the security in place. They don't fuck with me...not more than once anyhow.” “I did hear about how you dealt with Reno's man being disrespectful.” Moncado inclined his head. “Another fine dramatic flair. And you are right. Time is a concern to my people as well.” He turned back to Rico. “I'll contact you with the exact details, but the deal will go down tomorrow night. Same price as before, and the same conditions as before.” “Agreed.” Rico nodded without batting an eye. “Page me when you have the details.” “Of course.” Moncado turned back to Sonny. “You will need your boat, Burnett. That should suffice this time. We did not have time to, how do you say, spread things around this time.” “Fine by me. Sea routes are easier to run on short notice anyhow.” Sonny nodded, pretending not to notice a disturbance by the bar. He guessed Moncado's guard must have done something and Robbie's men were showing him the door. “Excellent. I have arrangements to make.” Moncado rose, extending his hand to each man. “I look forward to seeing you again under more pleasant circumstances.” “Likewise. Maybe next time we can discuss a longer-term arrangement. Regular shipments.” Moncado nodded. “Perhaps. Good evening, gentlemen.” Once the tall Columbian left the table, Rico started to speak when Sonny raised a finger to his lips. “Guess that settles it, Cooper,” he said in Burnett mode. “I'll have my boys get the boat ready. Let me know once this asshole reaches out.” Rico nodded, understanding what Sonny was doing. “You got it, Burnett. Sorry this is tying your people up like it is. We'll make it up to you with the commission.” “I hope so. Had to do a bit of arm-twisting to keep Lance in the game. He wanted to jump to Carlotti's crew.” They talked a bit more in their cover modes in case Moncado had bugged the booth, and then finished their drinks and moved through the crowd toward the door. As soon as they hit the clean night air Sonny reached into his jacket for the pack of Lucky Strikes and lit up, feeling the smoke slide over his tongue and into his lungs. He tipped the valet with a twenty when he brought the Ferrari around, and soon they were driving into the night. Rico looked over at Sonny, his face a glowing profile from the neon signs flashing by. “That was a hell of a stunt with that cannon of yours, partner.” “Yeah, but it got his attention. Without it you two would still be back there arguing about who looked better in their prom dress.” Sonny chuckled, flooring it to shoot through a yellow light. “Besides, you wanted me to go all Burnett. I think those were your exact words.” Rico laughed. “Guess I should be careful what I wish for, is that it? Still, it worked out. It did get his attention and got us another deal.” He shook his head. “You think we'll get the buy money?” “Why not? They'll just seize it back again when they shut down whatever bank it's going into. Just think of it as recycling, Rico. We're doing our little bit to keep Izzy's free entrepenurialization or whatever the little freak calls it going.” “Greasing the wheels we called it back in New York, but yeah it's the same thing.” Rico looked out the window. “How did he seem to you?” “Tense, but he hides it damned well. I'd hate to play poker with him. I spotted one guard, up by the bar, but I think Robbie's guys tossed him when I pulled out the Smith to make my point. I'm sure Dave and Randy can tell us more once they debrief.” “You really think he had the booth bugged?” “He's smart enough, so it's better to play it safe. If he can find Stan's stuff, there's no reason to think he couldn't put in his own.” Sonny kept his eyes on the road, but his mind was years back and looking through a fog again. “That's what Burnett would do, so I figured it's what he might do.” He also didn't want to think back on what he'd said to Moncado too much. It was too damned close to one of the pitches Cliff had made to drivers he recruited for Burnett's organization. Just when I think I've put that behind me it comes back again. Maybe that shrink was right...it's a part of me now whether I like it or not. “You ok, partner?” “Sorry. Yeah. Just thinking about that meeting is all. You think he'll show for the deal? If there is a deal?” “I don't know. I know Cooper wouldn't. Not if he was still worried about security. I think we mostly convinced him, especially once the heroin came into the picture, but like you said he's a paranoid son of a bitch. I know I'll feel better if we have Dave and Randy with us. If it's a hit I want those two close by.” “I think you'd have to cuff them to a wall to keep them away, Rico.” They eased to a stop at a red light. “You think we should write this up tonight?” “Sure. The lieutenant might even still be there. Be good to give him a heads-up about the buy.” A dim desk lamp cast shadows over Martin Castillo's desk, giving him just enough light to make out words on the papers in front of him. He'd sent Trudy and Mindy home over an hour ago, and he found himself nursing the unfamiliar yet welcome feeling of wanting to leave himself and hold Trudy in his arms while they listened to the waves crashing on the unseen beach. But duty told him he had to wait for Crockett and Tubbs. He looked up when they came in. “Have a seat.” He waved to two chairs positioned in front of the desk. “How did it go?” Tubbs filled him in, going over the entire meeting and their suspicion Moncado might have bugged the table. “Sonny played Burnett to perfection, lieutenant,” he finished. “I think we've got him where we want him. He's paging with details about the deal tomorrow night.” “You'll have the money. Same as last time.” Castillo pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose. He needed to get out of the office and into the clean night air. “Someone must want these guys bad to keep forking up that kind of money.” “They do. I don't expect Dave and Randy to report in until tomorrow morning, so we'll meet then. You two go home. Get some sleep. And I heard from Trudy. Stan and Lester are both upgraded to stable condition. Trudy said Gina finally went home to get some real sleep. I had a word with her new unit commander. She'll have all the time she needs to get Stan back on his feet.” Actually it had been more than a word, until Castillo let the woman know just how far his reach extended and how far she'd fall if she continued to block the request. He hoped it didn't have any long-term consequences for Gina, but right now she needed to be with Stan. And he needed her. “That's good news.” Sonny smiled, his hair slipping down across his forehead. “That's damned good news. It sure could have been a hell of a lot worse.” “Moncado never mentioned the attack?” “Not once. We didn't bring it up, and maybe he was waiting to see if we would. Sort of a test.” Rico shrugged. “Like Sonny said, I'd hate to play poker with that man.” “His kind doesn't show emotion. They read it on others.” Castillo didn't want to think about how close that came to describing him. At least before Trudy came into his life. “It's what makes him good at what he does, and what makes him so valuable to Maynard. Holmes, the arms dealer, isn't like that. It's only what he can procure that gives him value to Maynard.” “And that's one tap source that's still open, lieutenant. Moncado didn't touch any of the bugs we have on Holmes' operation.” Sonny smiled. “Granted he don't talk much, but that's there if we need it.” “Good. Any surge in purchases will show, and Trudy can use that to project activity.” Castillo got up. “Now let's all get out of here and get some sleep.” Castillo found her out on the deck, the blue silk robe hanging loose from her shoulders and shifting in the onshore breeze. She seemed to sense his arrival and spoke before he was halfway across the deck. “I love it out here, Marty. You've got me hooked.” He'd left his jacket and shirt inside, and felt her warm body against his chest when he hugged her. “Sorry I'm so late. I wanted to hear what Crockett and Tubbs had to say.” “Anything good?” He told her some of it. “But let's not waste this time on business. I like having the deck and the ocean as a sort of sanctuary. Where I can...” He paused, searing for words. “Where I can hear Jess again and listen to the night.” He also realized he hadn't had the dream with the knife since Trudy moved in. “Jess?” She turned partway to face him, and he realized what he'd said. “Jess was a member of my team in Laos. A good man. A surfer.” Castillo told her the whole story, the first time he'd told anyone other than himself. “When I hear the waves I think of him,” he said, finishing in a voice so soft it was almost lost in the breeze. “Ti Ti, Gus, all of them.” “I'm sorry. I forgot how many memories you must carry around.” She shifted her weight back onto his chest. “Losing my sister was hard enough. I can't imagine...” “We all have our pain. Our losses. Mine aren't greater than yours. Just different.” He kissed the top of her head. “They all weigh the same on us. It's how we deal with them that sets us apart.” “But now we don't have to deal alone.” “True.” It was a new feeling for him, one he sometimes struggled with. But the disappearance of the dream. That must mean something. He also was finding new memories in the sounds around him. Now the breeze conjured her scent in his nose instead of the Laotian highlands. Her voice and her sounds as they made love were sharing space with Jess when he heard the waves on the beach. The old memories, he knew, would never really fade. But how they were sharing space in his heart with his newfound ones fascinated him. “So where do we go now?” She turned to face him. “Stan getting hurt scared me, Marty.” “We go as far as we want, and for as long as we want.” He kissed her, feeling her strong arms wrap around his neck. “I asked you to move in because I want to share my life with you. And I hope you'll let me share yours. If that's ever too much for you, you can leave. I don't want to...” “I can't see myself ever leaving, Marty.” “I'm glad.” There was nothing else he could say. Or wanted to say. He just wanted to be here on the deck with her, listening to the unseen surf, as long as he could. There would be a time when work wouldn't be there anymore, but then they'd have each other. It was a comforting thought. Something to replace the duty that had always driven him and, he suspected, driven her as well.

Castillo looked around the room, his eyes missing no one and nothing. “Good work last night. How did the meeting go?” Tubbs filled him in. “Moncado's one bad cat, lieutenant. Sonny and I talked about it afterwards and agree on that.” Sonny nodded. “We don't dare underestimate this guy. We'll only get one shot, and if we miss people will get hurt.” Castillo nodded. “Overwatch?” Randy looked at his range notebook. “Target came in alone and left alone. We saw the black Mercedes, but it dropped him and came back within two minutes of him exiting the club. He must have a pager for them. We never saw anyone else enter or exit the vehicle. We were on station from 1800 until 2300 and spotted no signs of other surveillance activity or overwatch.” He looked back to the notes and chuckled. “We did spot a couple getting it on on the roof one over from the club, though. Nothing else of interest.” Mindy laughed. “We fended off amorous Hispanic males for most of the evening, at least until we ordered food. We stayed in place until about nine. No one seemed to be watching the table or tailing our people or Moncado when he left.” “I second that.” Trudy winked at Sonny. “I will say Robbie's security guys took care of the one guy who tried to pay us too much attention. Got him out with no muss and no fuss.” “We picked up one overseas call just after nine.” Lester was giving the briefing while Stan worked on one of the recorders. “It was short. Less than a minute. And in some kind of Spanish dialect. I think they were also talking in code. Sounded like Moncado and Maynard, but we'll know more once I finish scrubbing it.” He shrugged. “Lines were bad last night.” “Has their security gone up?” “I can't say for sure, lieutenant. When it was Pedrosa and Moncado most of the calls were local and in the clear, but there weren't many of them. Most of the chatter was Pedrosa to his people. Moncado doesn't seem to talk on the phone as much, but I think Stan mentioned that yesterday.” “He did. Moncado's more security-conscious. I don't think we'll intercept as much with him taking local control.” Castillo rubbed his temples. “I don't like waiting for him to move, but I don't see us having much choice. Keep gathering what intel you can. And reach out to Moreno again. I know you talked to him yesterday, but I want him earning his money. And if Moncado's got a shipment coming in he's going to need at least some local help. Moreno's perfectly positioned to hear any word that comes out.” “Damn it!” Stan came out of the Tech Room, his hair limp with sweat. “I'm gonna have to get a new recorder from OCB, lieutenant. I'd rather not, but we don't have time to wait on a replacement. This one's done for.” “Do it. How much will that compromise our surveillance?” “Minimal. I can shift one from Pedrosa's old line over. That one hasn't been used since Tubbs used it to hit up Moncado.” “Good. Keep me appraised.” Castillo pushed himself up from his chair. “Again, good work people. Stay sharp and we can close this one out.” Sonny waited until Randy and Dave left to look over at Mindy. “You did great last night. Just wanted to let you know.” She smiled. “Thanks. Trudy's a good teacher.” “That she is.” Sonny smiled across the table at Trudy. “I'd count on her to watch my back any day and any time.” “Come on, partner. Let's go get some real breakfast.” It was mid-afternoon before Stan Switek made it back to the office. He nodded to Mindy on his way through, then stepped back and grinned an apology. “Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude. I'm not used to someone being out here yet.” “You looked like you had something on your mind. It didn't bother me.” “Yeah. This equipment's acting up again. Damn stuff gives me a rash.” He grinned his lopsided grin. “Get that sorted out and get home for dinner. My girlfriend's making some Italian thing I've never heard of before, but I do like food.” He slapped his stomach through the red, yellow and green Hawaiian confection he'd chosen for the day. “In case you couldn't tell.” She laughed. “Good luck with it, Stan.” Lester poked his head out of the Tech Room as soon as Stan shut the outer office door. “Did you say something else went down?” “Not yet. I just got that second recorder swapped out.” He snorted. “The way they whined you'd think I took OCB's last one or something. Hell, there were six more like it sitting on the shelf.” “I got that phone call filtered down for the lieutenant. He's listening to it now.” Lester shrugged. “His Spanish is worlds better than mine, and he's got Trudy listening to some of it, too. But that's not what's got me irritated.” “What's up?” Stan set the old recorder on the bench. A problem to be solved later once I rip the face panel off and see what shorted out this time. “One of our taps went dead about five minutes ago.” “Which one?” “It's on the warehouse down by the old airport. That first one you logged putting in.” Stan sighed. “A bird probably took a crap on it or something. Was it active before it went down?” “Not really. Usual line hiss you pick up out there.” “Log it and we'll go switch it out. I don't know that we need to do it today, though. They haven't used that warehouse yet. I just tapped it because it showed up on Reno's property list. Hell, Pedrosa never went near it once the Coast Guard settled Reno's hash.” Lester nodded and turned back to the surveillance logs. “I'll do that. And maybe we can see about getting a warrant for another office. The last records search turned up a suite downtown owned by some shell company Moncado set up three weeks ago.” Stan nodded, adding it to his scribbled list headed 'things to bother the lt for.' It tended to spend most of its time on his desk, although about once a day he worked up the nerve to go in and make his requests. It wasn't that Castillo scared him after all these years, but the man's studied silence made him nervous as hell. But it was a fair trade-off for not having to keep all the surveillance logs by himself. But it also reminded him. “I got the tapes from Robbie Cann on the way back. I took a quick listen, and we've got enough there to bring Moncado up on charges. If that's what we did these days, anyhow. I'll let the lieutenant know when I ask about another warrant.” Looking up from his notes, he took a quick look at the status board. He'd taken a map of Miami and mounted little LED lights representing each bug or recorder they had in the field. Most of them were actually monitored out of the Bug Van, but a repeater there sent a second signal for each one to the Board. Green for operational, Red for those with no signal, which meant a problem. He could see the warehouse one glowing red where it had been green that morning, and the once-red light on the recorder he'd replaced was now green. Lester followed his gaze. “That's one fine piece of work there, Stan. You ever think about making more of them?” “Not for OCB unless they quit whining every time I come in.” Stan chuckled. “But I might make one for the marshal's office. Randy saw it one day and wanted to know all about it.” “Nice.” Lester looked down at the log and then back up. “Do you think Mindy...” “Not a chance.” Stan shook his head. “Don't even go there, Lester.” “Yeah, you're right.” “It's not that, man. You're a great guy and all, but the lieutenant would kill you if you tried to date the new marshal. Besides,” he lied to soften the blow, “I hear she's already seeing someone over there.” “Good to know. If they're all like Dave and Randy I don't want to piss one of them off.” “I got your back, partner. Now let's see if we can find a bug in the office to replace the one that's down. I don't want to go back to OCB if I don't have to.” The first thing Sonny noticed when Rico dropped him off at the marina was Vellamo, tied in her usual spot as if she'd never left. Walking by he saw the doors to the companionway below were closed and the curtains on the ports drawn tight. “Either she's got company or doesn't want any,” he muttered. In a way it wasn't a bad thing. He wouldn't be much company today. Not after a day spent chasing down one bad lead after another. The Columbian-Dominican skirmish had dried up most of the street activity, and no one was talking about anything. Finally Tubbs had given up. “I'm going to a club and meeting something in a short skirt with a shorter attention span,” he'd announced. “Want to come or should I drop you off?” Sonny stopped just short of the boat. He didn't remember leaving the gangway open, but it was always possible. It also wasn't the first time the marina keeper might have come on board to feed Elvis or drop off mail. Still... He unbuttoned his blazer and unsnapped the shoulder rig. Moving slow and careful he went up the gangplank. Elvis moved his head slightly, but made no sound. “Damn sorry excuse for a watchdog,” he muttered, feeling the plastic grips under his palm as he reached under his coat. “You said you'd have me down for dinner.” Jenny's voice echoed up from below as soon as his feet touched the deck, and Sonny let out the breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. “You never said you'd be gone for a few days.” The words were sharper than he'd intended, but there was no going back now. She came up from below, hair tousled by the ocean breezes. Her long light blue shirt was buttoned just past the top of her ribcage, the fabric so thin he could see her nipples as clearly as he had that night. “I know. That wasn't fair. I'll make it up to you.” She let the shirt slip down off her shoulders. “I promise.” “Gotta say I wasn't expecting company. I don't know if I've got anything worth eating, but I'm sure I can come up with something.” He smiled. “Even if it's just a can of soup.” Her eyes sparkled. “I'd be happy with that. Three days of my own cooking's about done me in.” He moved past her, feeling how she rubbed against him as he went down the steps and turned toward the galley. He rummaged through the icebox, relieved there was something there other than beer and more beer. “How does steak sound?” “Anything,” she called back from above deck. Opening one of the cupboards he pulled out a can of green beans and matches to light the stove. It had been some time since he'd cooked for anyone other than himself, and it took a bit to remember the finer parts. It also brought back memories, the intensity of them enough to shock him. Still, he muddled through without setting the boat on fire, and when she came back down and took her first bites, Jenny pronounced it delicious. They ate slowly, and he noticed again she spent more time trying to talk about him than she was willing to give of herself. Over the years he'd gotten good at deflecting as well, and finally they came back to boats and the sea. “I love it out there,” she said as she chewed her last mouthful of beans. “It's like you're alone with yourself as long as you want to be, and surrounded by more life than you can imagine at the same time.” “I like the quiet. Gives me time to think.” He smiled. “At least I like quiet most of the time.” He'd been looking around the entire meal, checking for signs that she'd searched the boat. Everything seemed where it should be, even the smaller things he positioned just to show if someone had been through the boat. She giggled. “I know. It did get too quiet out there. That's one reason I came back.” She shrugged off the shirt. “You're the other reason.” “I have to admit I checked every day to see if you'd come back yet.” He smiled, noticing she wasn't wearing anything under the shirt. “Looks like you planned ahead.” “I did. You made dinner, the least I can do is offer you dessert.” She leaned back on the settee cushions, raising her arms above her head and stretching out her legs, leaving nothing to his imagination. “Everything on the dessert menu.” They made love three times that night, each more powerful than the one before. Finally she slumped down across his chest, her hair slick with sweat and her breasts heaving as she gasped for breath. “You're really something, you know that?” “I could say the same about you, darlin',” he whispered back, running his fingers down the small of her back as he felt her weight shift from her hips to her upper body as she relaxed. They were in the forward stateroom, away from any reminders of his real life. He'd carried her there after the first time on the settee, explaining that the aft stateroom had been trashed by Elvis and he hadn't had time to clean it yet. “Now I know why I came back.” She kissed his shoulder and sighed. “I'm glad you did.” Again, he found himself partly meaning it. What the hell is it about this lady? Is she playing me like Margaret did in New York? I have to get a handle on it before I fall for her. He kissed her neck, tasting her sweat on his tongue. “I...” “Shhh... We can talk later. Right now I need sleep. Then you. Then more sleep.” She kissed him then, teasing his tongue with hers, before rolling off to settle beside him with her head in the crook of his arm. “Wake me up when it's time for me to leave.” He laid there for a time, listening as her breathing settled and grew rhythmic as sleep claimed her. He still wasn't sure what was happening. Nothing made sense. If she was like Margaret someone would have to be targeting him, and no one aside from Moncado or Maynard would be interested. And he couldn't see them sending a blonde mermaid. It would more likely be sweaty goons toting machetes. He and Tubbs had been off the radar for over a year. And anyone targeting Burnett would find more than enough information to keep them awake at night out on the streets. Maybe she was targeting him on her own. There was that low-level connection Stan and Lester had found, and a boat similar to hers, too damned similar really, was on a Customs watch list. He sighed, touching her hair and feeling her rub against him in her sleep. All he could do was keep watching and stay alert. With Moncado coming to a head and Maynard just over the horizon like a circling great white shark he needed to focus on business. He wasn't sure when he finally fell asleep, but he work to her moving against him. “I'm ready for breakfast,” she announced when she realized he was awake, and then disappeared under the sheet before he could say a word. “She what?” Rico almost drove the Caddy into a hot dog cart, looking over at Sonny with an amazed expression on his face. “Don't kill them all, partner. And yeah, that's exactly what she did.” Sonny laughed. “I'm telling you this lady is something else.” “And here I was going to impress you with my story of a short skirt.” Tubbs slapped the steering wheel after he flipped off the hot dog vendor. “I gotta go do all my moves just to get one lousy phone number and you have this dream lady land right in your lap.” “My lap was part of it, yeah.” Sonny laughed again. “I'm just yanking your chain, partner. The tough part is I don't what her game is. None of it makes sense.” “It don't have to make sense. Not yet, anyhow. Stan said she's got a fairly clean record, right? Her boat ain't stolen or on the Coast Guard narcotics watch list, right? She don't have a big boyfriend with a pair of bolt cutters hiding behind a curtain, right? No? So enjoy it, my friend. You can figure it out after we finish Moncado and Maynard.” “I know. I know,” Sonny felt the wind in his hair as Tubbs picked up speed. “It just bothers me is all.” “You're like a dog with a bone. Just let it roll.” Tubbs imitated a wave motion with his right hand, keeping the left on the wheel. “Just let it rooollll.....” “Did Stan say what Castillo wanted?” Sonny tried to steer Tubbs away from more talk about Jenny. The only way he could let it go was to distract himself, and work was the only thing distracting in his life these days. “I just got the page.” “Nope. Not a clue. He did say something about new intel, which might be reason enough.” Tubbs pursed his lips. “I still don't feel like we know enough about Moncado. His resources. Things like that.” “Yeah. It's not a strong hand. We knew how many guns Reno had, and Pedrosa's were a known quantity as well. But Moncado...we don't know if he's just got three crazies on PCP with machetes or half the Columbian army waiting in the wings.” Sonny slapped the Caddy door. “But we can't really slow it down, can we? The whole thing's on autopilot now.” “Yeah. Pretty much. We got as much time as Moncado gives us before he pages about the next shipment. If he's tied in as tight was we think, it's only a matter of days before that stuff hits town. He might have been holding it offshore for all we know.” Mindy looked up with a smile when Crockett and Tubbs came through the suite door. “They're waiting for you. Your lieutenant had Dave and Randy come in, too. I'll be in as soon as I lock that door.” Trudy sat near the head of the table, a mass of open folders laid out in front of her. Castillo was still at the head, but he had his head and and looked to be waiting for Trudy to start things rolling. Stan was representing the “bug squad” - his nickname for himself and Lester, and Dave and Randy sat facing each other near the end of the long table. Sonny settled into his normal spot and smiled at Trudy. “Looks like you've been busy.” “We've got a lot of ground to cover,” she announced in a voice more commanding than he'd ever heard her use before, “so let's get started.” She waited until Mindy found a seat. “Good. You've got summaries in the folders in front of you, but we need to go through the long version so you understand what we're up against with Moncado.” She looked down at a file with what appeared to be a CIA emblem on the cover. “You've read his short bio, but I finally got some cooperation with another agency and he's worse than we thought. His ties in Peru are extensive, all the way up to the military's high command, which is where the power is in Peru right now.” She flipped that folder closed and reached for another stamped by the DEA. “Our sources indicate he only got into the narcotics trade a couple of years ago, likely at the request of Colonel Maynard. Those two, by the way, go back to Columbia and probably before. Anyhow, he's been moving fast since then. DEA thinks he used his Peruvian military contacts to take out an existing cartel, probably the one run by the Eccheria family. They were a solid, mid-level operation. Strong on production but weak on transportation.” Looking around the room, Trudy paused. Sonny was impressed. She'd managed to absorb a massive amount of information in next to no time and turn it into something they could use. “Moncado had transportation. His family ran a shipping concern in Columbia going back to the turn of the century, and he's been adding to it ever since through a series of shell companies, mostly out of Panama.” “Nothing like keeping it in the family.” Tubbs chuckled. “Exactly. But once he took over the Eccheria's production he had the means to move it to market. Where he was weak was the market. That's where Pedrosa came in. He'd been a small-time thug in one of Moncado's death squads before coming to the US and trying to make the big bucks.” She smiled. “We all saw how good at that he was. But when Moncado spotted him working the Miami markets he made him the golden offer. Virtually unlimited product. He just had to move it. For a little while he could, then it got too big for him and he brought in Reno. Reno was greedy, and starting cutting the product without seeing there was no way Miami could absorb that much cocaine that quickly. Then we came in.” “So he's got boats and product.” Dave's voice echoed from the end of the table. “What's his firepower look like?” “Easy, pal.” Sonny spoke out of reflex. “She's getting there.” “Thanks, Sonny. And Dave, you need to understand the resource chain before you can wrap your head around the firepower picture.” She smiled, and Dave bowed his head. “Everything I said should tell you he's got practically unlimited resources. He can call on seasoned death squad veterans, gunmen who've been through who knows how many Miami turf wars, and probably even some Peruvian ex-military types. Since he's tied into Maynard's arms dealer he can get pretty much anything short of a nuke, and these days who knows about that even. What he's limited by is transportation and time.” Dave nodded. “I get it now. He can bring guys or dope, but not both.” “Right. And it's harder to get men through and hide them for any length of time.” Sonny nodded, turning it around in his head. “So he'd surge guys in. Bring in ten or twenty more right before a big deal, maybe, and then ship them back once the deal's done or the job's complete.” “That's what I think he'll do.” Trudy looked at her notes. “Some can come in as freighter crew, but that's going to limit how many he can get in legitimately, as well as how long they can wait around waiting to pull the trigger.” They talked around the table a bit more, Mindy offering ideas and Tubbs kicking in his two cents. Sonny sat mostly quiet, still in awe of what Trudy had put together. We could have used this back in OCB. But that tickled something in his head, and he turned to Switek. “Stan, could you pick up one of his surges?” Stan nodded. “I think so. So long as he's using the phone at least. If it's couriers we're screwed. I can monitor marine band as well, but we need to know which ships are his before that's anything more than a waste of time and good coffee.” He shrugged. “And Moncado talks way less than Pedrosa. I already mentioned that, but it's getting more obvious every day. That and he's got lines we just don't know about yet.” “Metro-Dade's still working their leak.” It was the first thing Castillo had said during the entire meeting. “So we can't go to them.” “We've had to hit OCB for some replacement gear. A recorder and three bugs now. Two more went down today.” Stan scratched his head. “One or maybe two I can understand, but this is getting ridiculous.” “Is Moncado sweeping?” Randy leaned back in his chair. “That might be why he's talking less.” “We assume he is. That's why most of our taps are on the poles and not the phones.” Stan looked down the table at the marshal. “Good question, though. I wouldn't be surprised if the greasy puke swept his bathroom three times a day.” Trudy cleared her throat. “We do know he has at least three freighters at sea right now. All due to dock in Miami within the next couple of days. Two are supposedly coming from Panama, while the third claims to be out of Columbia. All of them carrying...are you ready for it? Coffee.” “Pedrosa's coke was in coffee sacks.” Dave slapped the table. “Yeah. It masks the scent from the dogs and it's such a common commodity from those countries it doesn't draw a second look.” Sonny grinned. “It also makes him some clean money from the majority of the cargo that isn't cocaine. This guy thinks.” “That's why I called you all in.” Castillo stood, capturing the room's attention in an instant. “Detective Joplin did a fine job filling in our opponent for you. Now you know what we're up against. Understanding your enemy is a key to defeating him, but we must also understand ourselves.” He paused, looking at each person around the table. Sonny felt those dark eyes pause on him for what seemed like an eternity. “Understand this. Moncado is our ticket to Maynard. He is a means, not the end. We have enough on tape now to arrest him for Federal drug charges and likely put him away for life. We are not, because that is not the goal. The goal is Maynard.” “So we let Moncado walk?” There was bite in Tubbs' voice Sonny recognized from old. “No. We do not. We eliminate him if he gets between us and our target. If at all possible we hand him off to another agency for arrest and prosecution. But we do not let him go. I just want you to understand where he stands with us. How we know ourselves and focus on the ultimate goal.” Mindy broke the silence, her voice soft. “What has this Maynard done that's so bad?” Sonny turned to face her, including Dave and Randy in the glance. “We've been chasing him, or maybe I've been chasing him, for years. He was in Vietnam. Army guy who worked mostly for the Company.” He filled them in on Maynard's smuggling heroin in body bags, old news to the snipers but new to Mindy, and his activities in Nicaragua and other parts of Central America. “I'm sure the lieutenant could tell you more, and I know Trudy could. But the man's a menace. He doesn't care who he hurts to achieve his ends. He hides behind what he calls national policy but he's no better than Moncado. Hell, maybe he's worse. Moncado's open about being drug kingpin. Maynard still claims to be a patriot.” “Crockett's right. Maynard needs to be eliminated as a player. Period. Those are our orders, and they define our focus and actions.” Castillo looked around, and his eyes softened. “I know this is different for you all. If you'd like to talk privately, my door is always open. And there are no repercussions.” He turned and walked into his office, closing the door behind him. The rest of the task force sat in silence while Trudy gathered up the folders and took them back to her office. Sonny looked at Tubbs and shook his head. There wasn't really anything else to say. Trudy laid out the threat and Castillo told them how they were going to take it down. It was all so simple, yet so damned complicated. Dave broke the silence. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use a drink. It's always damned good when a mission comes together, and this one sure as hell did.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel's. “You find the glasses, I got the booze. First round's on me.” “I've got the second.” Randy produced a bottle of scotch from somewhere and grinned. “Never say Marines don't come prepared.” “You're telling me we lost another bug?” Stan glared at the displays in the Bug Van before turning to Lester. “How many is that now? Four?” “More like five. We had one go dark while you were in that meeting. All pole taps. I'm starting to think there's a squirrel somewhere who doesn't like us.” It was starting to get dark, shrouding the street around the van in growing shadows. Stan grinned, then shook his head. “No way I'm telling the lieutenant Moncado has squirrels on his payroll. That's just not happening. Have you checked them over? Maybe we got a bad batch of something.” “They're different lots, so they don't have that in common. One of 'em's almost brand new, and another's going on two years old. It doesn't make sense.” “Have you pulled the last one yet?” “No. It's still up there.” Sighing, Stan hauled on the lineman's coveralls. “Let's go get it and see if it tells us anything.” Climbing a phone pole in the dark was not Stan's idea of a good time, but Lester swore he was afraid of heights. He liked being puked on even less than he liked climbing poles, so the choice was easy. But that didn't mean he'd enjoy it, or that he'd pass up a chance to make Lester do something miserable down the road. Like changing a bug hidden in a urinal in the men's room of a biker bar. Payback's a bitch, buddy he thought as he scrambled up the pole. He'd placed the bug, so he knew exactly where to pull it. A few moments later he was back on the ground peering at the collection of wires and circuits. Trying in the dim light to get an idea of what had happened. He thought about taking it back to the van, but there was a breeze building and it was cooler out here. Bugs be damnedhe thought, swiping at what might have been a big moth or a small bat diving at his face. “Lester! Bring the flashlight and let's check this thing out.” “You got it.” The dome light came on as Lester opened the door, then it went out and came on again. “Damn it! Dropped it. On my way, Stan.” Stan was about to say something wise-ass when he froze, his jaw partly open. Something flashed white-hot in a frame shed across the street. It looked like... “Lester!” he screamed, diving for the street. “Get out! It's....” As he watched the flame turned into a blazing arrow shooting across the fifty yards or so and slamming into the Bug Van with a yellow-white-orange roar. The concussion slammed him to the ground like a rag doll, but not before razor sharp bits of what had a heartbeat before been the van ripped into his face and arms. The air around him felt like it was vibrating, and he couldn't hear anything apart from an overwhelming ringing in his ears. “Larry!” The word came from deep in his heart, and then his jumbled mind took control. “Lester!” He thought he saw something move near the flames engulfing the van, and tried to force himself to his knees. But his arms wouldn't work, and his legs felt like they'd turned to unset Jello. His vision started to blur, and he let his head fall to the pavement. Stan Switek felt a stab of pain and then didn't see anything at all. Sonny Crockett and Ricardo Tubbs stood well back from the glow of emergency lights dancing white and red on the pavement. The dying remains of a fire flickered in fits and starts in the wreckage of the Bug Van, chased by water from a deployed hose. The acrid smell of burning rubber, melting plastic, and high explosives filled their noses. For Sonny it brought back nightmare images of the death of his old partner Eddie. And now Stan... Castillo emerged out of the darkness, his suit slightly damp from the spray of the hose. “They found Stan and Lester just outside the kill zone,” he said, looking from one man to the other. “They're being transported now.” “How are they?” Sonny asked it plain. “Lester's hurt worse. He took shrapnel all over his back. Switek's face took a beating. Lots of glass fragments and metal. The EMTs said it missed his eyes, but they won't know until they're in the hospital. And they're both concussed from the blast.” “A bomb?” “No. Switek mentioned a flash of light before he passed out. Uniforms found burned streaks in the shed across the street.” Castillo looked back at the wreckage. “I'd say it was a LAW.” “A what?” “An anti-tank weapon,” Sonny explained. “Designed to take out a tank if you got lucky and hit it in the ass from ten feet away. In Nam the grunts used them against bunkers. And if it was a LAW, that means it was Moncado.” “Switek said they were losing taps. Moncado must have been burning them up with electrical charges through the lines.” Castillo looked down. “I should have anticipated that.” “This is no one's fault but Moncado's, Marty!” Sonny's voice was sharp, containing all his anger at the attack and fear Stan or Lester might have been killed. “You did everything you could. Hell, we never would have thought he'd bring a LAW in, much less use it in Miami! What does that tell us?” “Maynard's getting desperate.” Tubbs nodded. “That and Metro-Dade still has a leak the size of Grand Central Station.” Castillo's eyes blazed. “I'll focus on the leak. Trudy and I will find it. You two stay ready for Moncado. Keep Dave and Randy close by. Maynard just made a mistake.” Sonny's heart stopped as he saw Castillo's jaw turn to Cuban granite. “He made this personal.” From outside the line of yellow tape someone screamed. Sonny turned, recognizing the voice. “It's Gina!” “Go to her. She'll need you now. Tell her you know Stan's going to be ok.” Castillo put his hand on Sonny's shoulder. “Be her friend so her love for your friend can survive. If that does, he will, too.” He saw her on the wrong side of the tape, and snarled at a uniform to let her through because she was a cop, too. The flashing lights streaked her dark hair red, and turned the tears streaming down her face to lines of falling rubies. “Sonny! Where's Stan? Is that the van? I heard on the scanner...” He grabbed her, pulling her tight and holding her so she'd listen and not stare and the smoldering wreckage. “Stan's ok, Gina. He's on his way to the hospital with Lester. He got cut up a bit, but the big lug's tougher than that. He'll have a headache for a few days, but he'll be ok.” “Don't lie to me, Sonny! Don't you dare! Is he...” “I'm not lyin' darlin'. I'm not.” He felt her shaking. “Stan's gonna be ok. Your man's gonna be ok. We didn't see him, but Marty did. And Marty's word's good enough for me. Rico can drive us there if you like.” “What happened?” “The van got blown up. As near as we can tell Stan and Lester weren't in it. We think they were checking a bug that went bad, and that saved them.” Tears were still streaming down her face, but he saw something in her eyes he'd never seen there before. “I want you to promise me something.” “Anything.” “No, I mean it. Promise me!” “Ok...I will.” “I want you to hurt whoever did this to Stan. Really hurt them!” “I will.” He nodded. It was a promise he intended to keep. “And now we'd better get you to the hospital. I know Stan will get better faster if he wakes up and sees the woman he loves.” “And I'll feel better just seeing the man I love.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “I do love him, Sonny.” “I know. And you need to be with him.” He looked over her shoulder at Tubbs. “Come on, Rico. Let's get her out of here.”

It was mid-morning before Sonny Crockett climbed on deck with a cup of coffee in hand and looked around the marina. Vellamo's spot was still empty, and there wasn't much else worth seeing in the bright summer sun. He stretched, scratched an itchy spot in his stubble, and contemplated taking the Scarab for a quick spin. It had been too long since he'd taken her out, and there was a chance it might be needed in their current case. He was about to change when the phone rang. “Yeah?” “Hey, man, it's me.” Tubbs' voice always sounded stretched in the cordless receiver. “Look, how long do we want to let Moncado stew?” “Give him a day, Rico. You can sell it as you went to bat for him with your New York people. Make him think he owes you.” Sonny smiled. “Anyhow, I was thinking of taking the Scarab out. You up for some powerboat action?” “Your new lady must still be out of town, then. Sure. I'll be there in ten. Less if the expressway isn't wall to wall.” Sonny chuckled as he ended the call, but Tubbs had also reminded him of something. He turned the handset back on and punched in a number. “Stan? It's Sonny. Look, can you run a check on a boat for me? She's called Vellamo” - he spelled out the Finnish name - “and I think she's got a Florida hull number.” “Size and make?” Stan sounded particularly alert this morning. “She's a Pearson 36. I don't need the full history. I just want to know if she's on anyone's watch list. Coast Guard. Customs. The usual suspects.” “You got it. This number good?” “For another half hour maybe. Rico and I are going to take the Scarab out. I'll have the machine on, though. Leave a message unless it's something really nasty.” He heard Stan laugh. “Any reason it might be?” “I don't know, Stan. I had Lester run the name of the person who claims to be the boat's owner. Check and see if she's the registered owner. Something's just...off about the whole thing.” “You got it.” Killing the call, Sonny collapsed the antenna and stuck the handset in its charger. Ever since the damned thing had died during a long-distance call from Caitlin when she was on the road he'd been almost fanatic about keeping it charged. Not that it mattered now, though. The only calls he got were work or some loser or another trying to score after someone gave out the number as belonging to a low-level pot smuggler. Luckily the latter were getting less and less frequent. He was still nursing the same cup of coffee when Tubbs sauntered down the dock, resplendent in pin-stripes by Ralph Lauren and shoes again by Gucci. Sonny couldn't help but smile. It was hot as hell and his partner still insisted on wearing suits with ties and coats. The only man he'd met who was as stubborn about his wardrobe was Martin Castillo. When he got close enough, Rico pointed to the open spot. “Is that where she was?” “Yeah. She's done that before, though. Been gone two, three days and then reappears.” Sonny mimed an explosion with his hands. “Poof! It's magic.” “Yeah, keep tellin' yourself that.” Tubbs climbed on board. “Stan got nothing in her background?” “She's just some rich kid with some minor stuff in her background. Got him checkin' the boat, too. Just in case.” “You know what they say about crazy sex, partner...” Rico's sharp laugh made Elvis twitch. “Yeah. The only problem is it likes to follow you home and try to cut your throat.” Sonny laughed in spite of himself. Rico had a way of making even the darkest thoughts seem funny when he got done twisting them. “So are you ready to go for a spin or what?” “Why not? Just try to keep the spray off my suit.” Sonny nodded. “Let me check on something first.” Grabbing the phone, he punched in a number. “Stan? Yeah, sorry to bother you again. You two get that booth at Robbie's club wired?” “Finished up yesterday,” Stan answered. “It's the one in the far left corner as you go in. Robbie's got it marked with a blue centerpiece. All the others are red or yellow. He's a good guy to work with, Sonny.” “Yeah, he is. Thanks, Stan.” Sonny clicked off and turned to Rico. “Just wanted to make sure things were good to go when you start leaning on Moncado.” “Solid. Now let's get this party started.” The Scarab didn't ride in the water as much as it cut over it, especially at high speed. Once they were clear of normal marina traffic, Sonny jammed the throttles wide and let the two 440s roar. Wind ripped through their hair as the boat shot forward, almost skipping from wave to wave from the power of the engines. Tubbs, hanging on to the console, let out a shout of pure joy and leaned into the wind. Sonny grinned, one hand on the throttles and the other on the wheel, keeping the boat in a straight line. One jerk of the wheel would be enough to spend them pinwheeling through the water, the boat disintegrating in a spray of fiberglass and engine parts. Soon, though, he throttled back and let the boat make its own way through the rolling waves. Tubbs sat back in his seat with a sigh. “Man, that's one hell of a way to clear your head.” “Ain't it?” Sonny chuckled, reaching for a cigarette. “The way I looked it, this job should have some perks somewhere.” “Damn straight.” Tubbs nodded. “You know, I thought Jaimie might have tipped us off to the hit.” “Naw, man. You're a customer to him. So he knows your name? Pedrosa was the one paying the bills. He's always going to be loyal to the money.” Sonny shook his head, drawing on the small Lucky Strike. “He might have shed a tear or two at your funeral, but he's gonna keep cashing those checks.” “I know.” They were quiet for a time, the thumping of the engines and the splash of water as the boat cut through the water the only sounds. “You know, this is one of the few times we've been out in this beast when we weren't on our way to shoot at or get shot at by someone.” “I think you're right, Tubbs.” Sonny nodded, letting smoke trickle out the corners of his mouth. “Damn, when I think about it I know you're right. I guess we need to get out more.” “It's the Job man. With a capital J. Give it time and it soaks up your whole life.” “Tell me about it.” Sonny shook his head, thinking back through his mistakes with Caroline and Billy, Caitlin dying in his arms, and the shadows still haunting his nights when Burnett came calling. “Maybe Gina was right to get out.” “We tried, partner.” Tubbs was looking out over the water now, but Sonny was sure that wasn't what he was seeing. “That year wasn't just an extended vacation. We tried to get out, but we can't. It's who we are now. Maybe that's why we're so damned good at it.” “What about Castillo? He might have found a way out.” “Castillo ain't human.” Tubbs chuckled. “He's like some kind of ancient warrior god come to life and walking the land. You see the way those deputies look at him? They know what he is.” “Yeah.” Sonny tossed the remains of his cigarette over the side, imagining he heard it hiss when it hit the water. “When you think about everything that man's seen and done...hell, if anyone deserves Trudy it's him.” “I'll tell you one thing, though. I wouldn't want to be the fool who hurt Trudy.” “No.” Sonny looked out across the waves, seeing that island again and not regretting a single choice he'd made that day. “No,” he repeated. “What I did with Hackman would seem like a school field trip compared to what he'd unleash.” “Does Marty know?” “Yeah. And that's the scary thing, Rico. I think he's known since the beginning. He never said in word. In fact, when he met with me that first day with the Task Force he said it told him I'd do whatever it took to get the job done.” Sonny shook his head again. “That's a very scary man inside that button-down suit.” “I'm just glad he's on our side.” Tubbs sighed and looked at his watch. “I don't know about you, but all this water's making me hungry. Want to head back and get some lunch? Since Stan's got the booth wired I might go ahead and poke Moncado today, too.” “You got it.” Sonny cranked the wheel around and opened the twin throttles again, sending the boat leaping over the waves to Rico's shouted delight. They ate a slow lunch at one of the cafes springing up like decorative weeds along the renovated waterfront and then took the Caddy to Task Force headquarters. Rico took his time meandering through the Miami traffic, so Sonny just sat back in the passenger seat and let the wind from the open top finish the hair style the boat had started. It was mid-afternoon when they stepped off the elevator onto the tenth floor. To their surprise, a pretty redhead was sitting at the desk in the outer office. She looked up from some mysterious paperwork and smiled, showing deep dimples and white teeth below bright blue eyes. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Everyone's in a meeting, so if you have business you'll need to come back.” Sonny recovered first and flashed his badge. “It's kind of important, darlin'.” Her smile never changed. “You must be Crockett. Good to meet you and Detective Tubbs. I'm Mindy. Go on in. The lieutenant's out, but I think Detective Switek and Lester are back there. Detective Joplin is at the Federal Building until four.” Bringing her hand up from under the desk, she laid a dark Walter auto-loader in front of her. “The lieutenant decided you needed some security.” Tubbs grinned. “Thank you, Mindy. Come on, partner. Pick up your jaw and let's go see what Stan has for us.” Sonny kept his cool until they were in the conference room. “Who the hell was that? And when did Metro-Dade start hiring beauty queens?” Stan's laugh filled the room. “They didn't. She's from the Marshal's Service. Randy brought her over earlier today. She's one of their newer deputies, but Randy said she's been in at least four warrant-related shootouts down here already and can hold her own.” “If Randy says she's cool, she's cool.” Tubbs laughed along with Stan. Sonny nodded, remembering another redhead from his past. Except that one had been trying to kill him. “Yeah. I get it. I'll play nice. Just surprised me is all.” He sat down at the long table. “You hear anything on that boat?” “I was about to call, but yes.” Stan looked at his note pad. “That name and boat number you gave me isn't on any watchlists I could find, but I also ran a check based on the make. Pearson didn't build many of the 36s, so it didn't take long. There is a Pearson 36 on a Customs watchlist out of Fort Meyers. Not narcotics, though. Smuggling. Rum, cigars, that kind of thing.” “What's that boat called?” “Salacia. I'm trying to run that one down.” Tubbs nodded. “Try Rome. The goddess of salt water.” He turned to Sonny. “Coincidence?” “I don't know, Rico. At least it's not a narcotics watchlist.” He smiled. “Thanks for checking, Stan. And for getting with Robbie so fast. I think Rico's going to put the screws to Moncado, so we'll need that booth sooner rather than later.” “I showed him how to start it recording, so as soon as he sees you he'll set things moving.” Stan turned, then looked back. “He's a good guy, Sonny. I actually took Gina there last night and he made sure we had a great time.” “Yeah. He's a good friend. I'll swing by there tonight and thank him again.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “You gonna call him or just sit there looking pretty?” “I might just do both.” Returning the grin, Tubbs reached for the phone and hit the correct buttons. “Gettin' the hang of this thing, Stan. Finally.” “Now maybe he can teach me. Hell, I don't know what to do if there's not a can with a string in it.” Sonny sat back, dealing with memories of Angel conjured by Mindy at the front desk while Tubbs did his thing. It was a short call. “This is Cooper. My people are willing to put this behind us, but we need to meet face-to-face. I get Pedrosa acted without your blessing, but they'd feel better if we sorted this out in person.” Tubbs nodded. “I agree public would be better. I'm not a Miami regular, so I don't know many places. I do know Carlos mentioned a club called The Sanctuary a few times. You know it? Good. I've never been. Solid. I'll meet you there tomorrow night. Eight o'clock? I'll be there. Yes, I can contact Burnett and bring him, too.” Tubbs smiled. “He's still a bit agitated about Carlos taking shots at us, and from what I hear it's not a good idea to leave Burnett agitated.” Sonny laughed as soon as Rico hung up. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you, Tubbs?” “You got a rep, you play it. That's the streets, Sonny. Besides, it'll make him more eager to talk to you and maybe get a picture or something back to Maynard.” “True. I'm just not quite used to being live bait yet.” Lester's voice echoed out of the Tech Room. “Guys! You should see the bugs lighting up! Moncado's making calls like crazy.” “Stay on it, guys. Let us know if anything important comes out of it. We'll be at the boat or the Caddy's number.” “Or Casa Cooper.” Rico grinned. “So sue me. I like the name. I don't need to work on my tan any more, and the Casa's got great air conditioning.” “I get the appeal.” Stan came out of the side room. “Might be a delay on some of the translation, Sonny. Not more than an hour, though. I need to swing by OCB and cage some spare parts for one of the sets. It took a dump on me about an hour ago.” “Anything new from Izzy?” “No, he's been quiet.” “I always get nervous when that little rat is quiet.” Sonny grabbed his light blue blazer. “Come on, Tubbs. Let's take the scenic route to Casa Cooper and check in on Moreno. You said his room's at the Sea View?” “Something like that, yeah.” Stan scratched his chin. “All you gotta do is look for a crowd of old people. You can bet Izzy's right in the middle trying to sell them something. In the old days he would have been one of those guys with 'miracle cure' wagons the townsfolk run off every couple of days.” “Stan was right,” Sonny muttered as they parked the car. “All we had to do was look for the crowd.” There was a small park set back from the sand, roughly manicured lawns and palm trees with picnic benches and a central area for cook-outs. Izzy Moreno stood in the middle of the open area, an arc of older people fanned out in front of him like spectators at the zoo. He'd found a sequin-covered tuxedo jacket somewhere, and it turned Izzy into a living disco ball in the mid-afternoon sun. His pants were an odd sky blue, and what looked to be platform shoes completed his look. He was holding something over his head and pitched his voice to reach the far ranks of his audience. “Joo know what I mean,” he said, in mid-pitch. “Joo older gentlemen in particular. Complains of age, they call it. Your ardor, she goes away in the boudoir. Joo are confused, yes? Joos don' know what to do, yes? Here!” His hand shot up, and Crockett got a glimpse of what looked like a gold-painted jockstrap. “Thees is jore salivation! All t' way from a secret lavatory in the deepest mountains of Spain I bring thees miracle to joo! Ten years in the making! Thees miracle is the Adonis Belt! Jore manhood will grow to a majestic oak in thees!” He looked around and lowered his voice. “How do I, the poor Count Moreno, know thees majestical power, joo ask? The Belt was made for the bullfighters, joo know. Sometimes, an' I say this with delication, the bull catches them with the horns. Hemingway knew of thees problem, thees curse. But science has come to jore rescue! Thees pouch is made from special metals found only in those mountains, joo see. An' one of thees miracles can be jores today only. I ask joo, look at jore women. They deserve a man, jes? A mighty bull of a man, Hemingway might say. Thees belt can make joo that bull again.” Tubbs started a slow clap. “It's a miracle, Count. Truly!” Izzy glared. “Excuse me, please. I mus' speak with thees men.” One of the old men in the front row waved his cane. “What about the damned belt?” “Ju may purchase one as soon as I'm done with this audiences. Never fear.” Izzy turned away. “Why do joo two always interrupt my entrepenurials?” “Maybe we just like old people.” Sonny looked at the limp fabric in Izzy's hand. “Really, Izzy? Spray-painting jockstraps gold? What next?” “Maybe someday there will be a pill for thees problematical.” Izzy shook his head. “But until science catches up, I geev them hope.” “No. You take their money.” Tubbs frowned. “But we aren't here about that, Izzy. We're curious about what else you've heard.” “Since Pedrosa got killed the streets have been quiet.” Izzy grinned. “Joo know, they talk about how the Columbians might have done that. I know it was joo two, though.” “How?” “Only the bad guys are dead.” He shifted, his coat sending streaks of light shooting through the thick afternoon air. “An' with thees gang war mos' of the small-timers are taking vacationals. Getting out of Dodge. Joo know...” “Waiting for the shooting to stop. I get it.” Sonny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Keep your ear to the ground, Izzy. And don't sniff any strange jock straps.” Snorting, Izzy turned back to his diminished audience. “As I was saying before these peasants needed my royalist attentionals, thees belt...” Tubbs waited to speak until they were back in the car. “You think he knows anything?” “No. I think he's being straight.” Crockett sighed and leaned back, waiting for Tubbs to pull away from the curb. “Turf wars always shut down the little guys, and that's who Izzy cages his news from most days. And he did say Pedrosa was having trouble hiring more guns. That was solid intel.” “Yeah. I wonder if Metro-Dade will find that one who got away?” “Don't count on it. I don't think they're gonna look too hard. Like Izzy said, only the bad guys got killed.” Tubbs was right, Sonny reflected as he stepped through the door. Air conditioning does feel damned good. Especially after being downwind of Moreno and his box of jock straps. The penthouse was starting to take on a comfortable, lived-in feeling without being cluttered. Dry cleaning still in its clear plastic bags hung on the bedroom door, and Sonny could see food packages on some of the shelves in the kitchen. “Finally settling in?” “Yeah. I guess I was afraid they'd move me after a week or so. Took some time to adjust.” “I was that way with the boat at first, too. Kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Rico flopped down on the leather sofa and stretched out his legs. “I think we need to plan this out, Sonny. Away from the others.” Walking over to the big plate-glass windows and looking out over the city, Sonny nodded. “I agree. Things will change based on what intel they dig up, but from here on out it's more or less our play.” “Do you think Maynard's made you yet?” “No,” Sonny shook his head as he spoke. “I don't think so. Pedrosa never took pictures. Hell, I don't think he even knew what a camera was. But that won't last with Moncado. We'll be on camera the second we leave Robbie's club, if not sooner. Then it's only a matter of time.” “You think he'll make me?” “Assume he does even if he doesn't. Maynard's a sharp cat. He might remember you from that little swamp shootout we had, or the plane. He's a spook, so his memory's good. But to be safe assume he makes you at the same time he makes me.” “Solid.” Rico looked at Sonny with narrowed eyes. “Then what do we do?” “Take him down.” Sonny turned back to the room, feeling the heat building in his eyes. “I still remember finding that heroin in those body bags, Rico. Maynard's an evil bastard. Pure and simple. He and Moncado will be setting the stage as soon as they make us, but we can call our own plays. That gives us an edge, I think.” “And you're sure he won't just blow you up? You're positive?” “Yeah. With me it's personal. He might try to take you out that way, but not me. He'll want to see me die up close, and I expect he'll want to do the killing himself.” Sonny looked away. “I know I would if I was in his shoes.” “Do we take him alive?” “That's the big question, isn't it, Rico? He's still gonna have friends in the government, and they'll want to spring him just to keep him quiet. That's how the system works.” He shook his head and kept looking out the window without seeing the skyline. Instead he saw the makeshift sprawl of Da Nang. “I'd like to try to take him alive, but that might not be possible in the end.” “Why?” “So long as he's alive he'll try to kill me. And you once he sees you. He might not give us a choice when it comes to taking him alive. He's not the guy who drops his gun and raises his hands when you flash the badge. He's more likely to use it as an aiming target.” “Point taken.” Rico sat in silence for a time, and Sonny could almost see him turning the problem over in his mind. “We cover each other first and always. If he catches a round or six, so be it. I won't shed a tear.” He raised an eyebrow. “You think those two deputies will go along?” “They're combat vets, Rico. They'll protect their team first and foremost. It's how they're trained.” He found a thin smile. “And I don't think they'd shed a tear for Captain Real Estate, either.” “Solid.” Tubbs pushed himself up from the couch. “I don't know about you, but I could use a beer.” “Make that two. Hell, maybe six.” “Joo got it, mang.” Rico laughed. “Got a case in the fridge along with some Chinese take-out leftovers. All the comforts of home.” “Sounds good. You got a phone handy? I'm gonna call Dave and let him know about tomorrow night. We can have them cover the outside of the club at the very least.” “By now you've all met Mindy.” Martin Castillo looked around the table. “She's joining us from the marshal's office, mostly as a liaison. But know she's a fully-qualified deputy and has worked in the field in the past.” Dave nodded. He and Randy were there because of the meeting tonight at The Sanctuary. “We've worked with her before. She's solid in the field. Hell of a shot, too.” “Thank you.” Castillo adjusted his tie and looked at his notepad. “Are there any intelligence updates?” Trudy shook her head. “Nothing new, lieutenant. Moncado doesn't talk near as much as Pedrosa, though I don't know if that's because his current network is smaller or he's more security-conscious. Given his background, I think he's just more aware he could be monitored. There are signs that he's getting ready for another incoming shipment, though. He's made calls to Columbia about something he calls 'Ulysses,' which we think is a code-name for a freighter. The most recent one went through yesterday and he talked to Tubbs.” Stan took his turn, speaking for Lester who was busy in the Bug Van. “We had to pull replacement parts from OCB, but our net's up and running again. Trudy's right about security. Even the amount of chatter between the hired help has dropped off. And that's not just because three of them are dead.” He looked down. “The last of Pedrosa's gunmen hasn't come up on any channels we're listening to, either.” “Dollars to doughnuts this Moncado had him put down.” Randy tapped the table with his trigger finger. “He don't seem like the kind who would tolerate a fool. Or someone who worked for one.” “I think the deputy's correct.” Castillo nodded, making a notation on his pad. “We don't need to worry about him. Sonny?” “We're on for tonight. Stan did a great job setting up the booth, and Robbie's in the loop. I stopped by last night to make sure and we had a good talk about things.” “I hope you weren't tailed.” “I don't think so.” Sonny shrugged. “What's done is done. It won't matter once Maynard sees a picture of 'Burnett.' Our plan is to go in solo. Dave and Randy will conduct overwatch outside the club. They'll page me if anything looks to be going down outside.” “What about a wire?” “Too risky. Moncado might check us for them.” Sonny grinned. “Robbie's got good security people, too. I don't think Moncado would try anything inside the club, and Dave and Randy can handle anything developing in the street.” “Damn straight.” Dave spoke plain again, and Sonny was starting to think he did it just to see if he could get a reaction out of Castillo. “We've got our hide spot picked. Did that last night as soon as Sonny called. We'll see them, but they won't see us.” Trudy spoke up. “Moncado usually moves with a security detail of three men. Two guards and a driver. He favors a black Mercedes, and DEA suspects it's armored. Surveillance reports indicate he likes to leave the guards outside if he's having a business meeting, but they're always close and have a good response time. They think he signals them with some kind of pager if anything's going down.” “I'd feel better if we had some backup inside the club.” Castillo looked at his pad again. “Trudy, do you want to take Mindy? Switek and Lester are in the Bug Van all night.” Trudy smiled. “Sure!” She turned to the pretty redhead. “We can go over our plan once the big briefing's done.” Mindy nodded to Castillo. “Thank you for the opportunity, lieutenant. I won't let you down.” “I never thought you would. People on my team are always afforded equal opportunities. No matter where they are initially.” He favored her with a quick smile. “All of you; be alert and be careful. Moncado will be on edge after Pedrosa's death. Never forget he's a dangerous and skilled man. He's not your normal Miami dealer. He ran death squads in Columbia and Peru. And he's Maynard's right hand. That's all.” Once Castillo left the room Dave whistled. “Damn. You'd think we were about to hit the Citadel in Hue City the way he was talking.” “Maybe we are.” Sonny narrowed his eyes. “Maynard's CIA going way back. Or Army-CIA. We were never sure which. But he was in Nam in '67 at least, and all the way through until Saigon. He was running heroin out of the country in body bags, and then the next time we found him he was running mercs into Nicaragua. Anyone who's as close to him as Moncado is has to be one ruthless son of a bitch.” “Damn. I didn't know that about Maynard. I mean we read the file, but it doesn't have much to it. You're sure about the body bags?” “Yeah. This guy I used to know showed them to me during the evacuation. Then later vets started dying when Maynard tried to offload the heroin here a few years back. It had been contaminate with embalming fluid from the bodies.” “I take back what I said. Your boss is just being careful. Like any good CO.” “Yeah. He just wanted to remind us this guy isn't a pushover like Pedrosa.” Trudy looked around the table. “Let's get our plan straight. Mindy, we'll get you dressed for the club scene. We'll be in costume and in place by about seven-thirty. Maybe a bit later, but we want to be there before Crockett and Tubbs come in. Once they leave, we'll remain in position for at least fifteen minutes and then get out. We don't want to look like we're with them in case Moncado has his own people watching.” Randy nodded. “We'll be in position before 1900. Better to settle in while there's still lots of street activity and no one notices us. We'll provide overwatch and exfil the area once all of you are clear. That includes Mindy and Trudy. If anything goes down we'll engage targets of opportunity from elevation and move to street level if it's tactically advisable.” Rico took his turn. “We'll come in the Caddy, since it's Cooper's meeting and his play. I plan to hit the club about five minutes before the meeting. That way we can get a drink and look natural. We'll be armed, but no wires just in case. Moncado would expect us to be packing heat and I don't want to disappoint. I want to leave before he does, just in case he's got something set up outside, but we'll let him develop that situation. This is just supposed to be a negotiation, so I don't expect trouble. But we'll be ready if there is any.” Sonny nodded. “I can deal with most close-in threats. Our vulnerable point is going to be leaving the club. We won't have ears, so Dave and Randy can't warn us if anything's brewing outside. Robbie's got security, but I asked him to keep them out of the way as much as possible. I don't his guys getting hurt because he's doing me a favor. But they might be able to give us a heads-up if anything looks off outside. And with Trudy and Mindy inside that might give us an edge if he tries to hit us from both sides.” Mindy nodded. “We'll keep an eye on him for you. How do you want us to play it if Moncado sticks around?” I like this girl. “Stay as long as you can and see if he talks to anyone. The Sanctuary has food, so you can always order something so you're not just nursing one drink at the bar all night.” Sonny tapped his fingers on the table. “We can't worry too much about who he's meeting, though. Robbie's club isn't a normal deal spot, so it's possible any contacts he has would be social.” “Solid plan, people” Dave looked up from his own notes. “I'd say we're ready to rock and roll. Sonny?” “Let's do it, people. Stan, good luck with the bugs tonight.” “Tape change night's always a bitch. It'll go much faster with Lester helping, though.” Mindy cleared her throat. “How can you be sure you'll get the right booth?” “Robbie's got it reserved.” Sonny nodded, his head reminding him of the many shots of scotch he and his old friend had traded last night. “Good question, though. If Moncado asks, Tubbs called in the reservation last night. It's all squared in the books if someone bothers to look.” He looked around. “Anything else? No? Then get ready for showtime.” Jenny's dock space was still empty when Tubbs dropped Sonny off at the boat. “I'll be back to pick you up about seven or seven fifteen,” he said as Sonny got out. “We don't want to be late.” Sonny nodded and watched Rico drive away. That gave him a couple of hours to eat and get ready. Time alone before an operation was something he'd always needed. The time and space to get his head right for what might be coming. He also knew if he didn't feed Elvis the gator would tear up something on the boat. Tossing Elvis a tuna, Sonny went below for a quick shower and changed into his Burnett rig. Gray slacks, dark blazer, and a black shirt. Reaching behind his neck he unhooked the chain holding Caitlin's ring and locked both in a small safe hidden behind one of the teak cabin panels. It wasn't something Burnett would wear, and he wanted to be totally in character tonight. Moncado wasn't going to be as easy to fool as Pedrosa. Not if he was half as good as the files hinted. Running water in the small sink in the head, Sonny scrubbed his face again and looked in the mirror. There were more lines than he remembered. Emotional scars finally moving from his heart to his face, maybe. He could feel the coldness that made Burnett taking hold, brought on by the dark jacket and shirt. Funny. How the color brings that on. He stared at himself for another minute and then shut off the light. Part of him wanted a drink, but he pushed the idea away. He wanted to be stone-cold sober walking into the club. The first ten minutes with Moncado would likely be key, and his head had to be clear for all of it. Slipping on a pair of dark dress loafers, he went topside to wait for Tubbs and watch the sun sink into a red, watery grave. It was ten minutes before eight when the big Caddy rolled to a stop in front of The Sanctuary. Getting out, Tubbs handed the keys to a valet in a short red jacket. “I guess the owner pulls out all the stops at night, hunh?” “Only way we can keep the curb clear,” the kid said, going around and starting the big car. “Will you be here long, sir?” “Hard to say. We got a business meeting.” Tubbs handed him a twenty. “Tell you what, keep her close just in case?” “You got it.” The money disappeared in an instant, and Sonny watched with a grin as the valet eased the car away. “I think you just made that kid's night.” “Hell, why not? Best way I can think of to return seized money to the community. Now let's get in there and get this done.” The doorman seemed to be expecting them and passed them though without a word. Once inside, a girl in a short black dress appeared out of nowhere with a table card. “You're the gentlemen for number seven? Right this way.” She turned and headed off in a show of long legs and lilting backside. “Remind me to get her number,” Tubbs whispered to Sonny as they followed her through the crowd. “Sure.” Sonny kept his eyes moving, picking out Trudy and Mindy at the bar right away. He also saw a few bigger men with earpieces, and marked them as Robbie's security. At least four in close proximity to the bar. He didn't forget anything they taught us, that's for sure. “You got his guys spotted?” “Yeah. Four of 'em, anyhow. And our girls, too. No sign of Moncado yet, at least not anyone who looks like the photo in the file.” The girl stopped beside a booth with a centerpiece decorated with blue flowers. “Here you are, gentlemen. Nita will be by with the drink menu. Were you planning to eat?” “We don't know yet. We're waiting on a third.” “Of course.” She smiled. “She'll check back once your party's complete.” Then she was gone again, a whirl of efficiency in a tight dress. “Damn! I'll just say it again. I think we're in the wrong line of work, partner.” “Don't I know it, Rico.” Sonny shook his head, trying to fight off Burnett's hazy memories and stay focused. “Don't I know it,” he repeated. Nita turned out to be a short brunette with the same short dress and bright smile. She left the menus at the table, promising to be back as soon as their third arrived. “Unless you'd like drinks now,” she added with another smile. “Black Jack for me. Neat.” “And I'd like scotch, please. Johnny Walker Black. On the rocks.” Tubbs unleashed one of his dazzling Cooper smiles. “Thank you, pretty lady.” “Put it in park, Romeo. I think Moncado just came in.” Tubbs looked toward the entryway. “Looks like him to me, partner. Showtime.” “How's he gonna spot us?” “Watch and learn, my country friend.” Tubbs chuckled as Moncado spoke briefly to the blonde with the table card. “He just asked where Cooper was sitting.” “Smart ass.” Sonny didn't say anything else, focusing all his attention on Tico Moncado. The file photos didn't do the man justice. He was tall, likely over six feet, with a head full of dark hair swept back and greased in place. Bright blue eyes peered out over a hawk nose and offset by a neatly-trimmed dark goatee. His suit could have been taken from Tubbs' closet; well-cut and made from what Crockett guessed was raw silk. Either he wasn't wearing a gun or the suit had been tailored for concealment, since it fit well and showed no bulges in the club's erratic light. He moved smoothly through the crowd, heading straight for their table like an arrow fired from the doorway. For such a big man Sonny noticed his hands were small. His voice was deep and commanding, like you'd expect from a former officer. “You must be Senior Cooper! And Senior Burnett.” The hand shot out like a weapon. Tubbs rose, taking the offered hand. “Senior Moncado. It's an honor to finally meet you.” “Likewise.” Sonny shook the offered hand, exerting just enough pressure to remind Moncado that Burnett wasn't someone easily dismissed. Even though he was sure the fiction wouldn't last much past this meeting he had a role to play. They sat, and Moncado ordered scotch as well when Nita returned with their drinks. “It's a habit I just can't break,” he said apologetically. “I also can't start talking business until everyone has a drink.” “I understand.” Tubbs nodded, taking a sip of scotch and nodding with appreciation. “After New York I find Miami a bit of an adjustment.” “How so, my friend?” “Up there it's business, business, and more business. Down here you have these customs, ceremonies you have to follow. Less of a hurry.” “Which do you prefer?” Tubbs smiled. “I guess it depends. In times like ours, I do enjoy the ceremony. But when it's just business, I'd rather get down to it and not waste any time.” “And you, Burnett? Which do you prefer?” “Wasting time burns fuel and darkness in my line of work. The sooner things get done the better.” Moncado laughed. “A superb answer.” He nodded his thanks when Nita reappeared with his drink. “And now we can begin.” He waited for the girl to step away from the table. “Let me start by expressing my deep regret at the actions of my former employee. My only regret is that I was unable to make him pay personally for his transgressions. It does, however, speak to the efficiency of your people, Mr. Burnett.” “That's why I work with him.” Rico moved to take control of the conversation. “My people accept your condolences, but you understand it does make them wary. That's twice we've had people in your organization go rogue.” “Of course.” Moncado smiled, showing white teeth Sonny figured he must have spent three grand for. “That's why we will discount your first three shipments by ten percent.” He spread his hands palms up. “Our way of making amends and building for the future.” “My people were thinking twenty, but I'm sure we can hit something agreeable to us both.” Tubbs flashed his best Cooper grin. “The point here is to make money over the long term.” Sonny leaned back, letting the two men haggle back and forth. Rico was good enough not to push too hard and not appear weak in the process. But he also had a role to play. “Here's where I stand, Mr. Moncado. My end is transport. I can handle so much without expanding, and if I'm contracted for more than that I have to bring in additional capacity. That means my price goes up. What you and Cooper agree to isn't really my business. My business is making sure what you agree to gets from your people to his with a minimum of loss.” “Very good. And your losses to date?” “Zero. I have good people and good routes.” Sonny smiled. “Of course I absorb any losses, but that also drives up my base cost. I've handled over thirty shipments for Cooper's people and never lose a key.” “Not one?” Moncado raised his eyebrows. “Not one.” Tubbs replied. “That's why I brought Burnett to this meeting.” “I dabbled in the side of the business you people are doing. Not my thing. So I stick with what I know. Transportation and security for that transportation.” “A wise man knows his strengths and, most importantly, his weaknesses.” Moncado signaled for another round of drinks and held his silence until Nita returned with a full tray. “Now comes my question for you: can you handle a cargo of six hundred keys with no notice?” Sonny made a show of calculating. “With the capacity I have on hand? Yes. I can go a bit above that even, but when you hit eight things change.” “Good to know.” Moncado looked at Tubbs. “And do your people have limits, Mr. Cooper?” “Do yours?” Moncado laughed again. “A fair point. In honesty our limits are the same as Mr. Burnett's and subject to the same pressures.” “Then we can absorb everything up to your limit and beyond.” Tubbs took a sip of scotch. “Although I think my people would be most comfortable with that lower number first. At least until things settle into place and our own distribution is clarified.” “I do know quality was an issue. You will never see cocaine like Reno's again from my people. You have my word. We can guarantee at least ninety percent purity with every shipment. We control the pipeline up to the point it reaches Miami, so there is no one to, how do you say? Step on it.” “That's right.” Sonny chuckled. “Step on it. Reno sure as hell did.” “And then the Coast Guard stepped on him.” Rico found his own chuckle. “Although I didn't appreciate almost getting stepped on in the bargain.” “Another man I wish I could have settled scores with personally. But no matter.” Moncado looked at the last of the scotch in his glass. “There is another custom I enjoy. I like to conclude successful discussions with a toast. May we, gentlemen?” “Of course.” Tubbs raised his glass. “A toast to our association. May it bring us all profit.” “Yeah.” Sonny touched glasses with the other two, content to play Burnett as weary with the whole thing. “Profits and success, gents.” Moncado downed his scotch and glanced at his watch. “Much as I'd love to share a meal with you gentlemen, I'm afraid I have another appointment across town. She is, shall we say, quite lovely.” He tossed a fifty dollar bill on the table. “It was a pleasure meeting both of you. I'll be in touch soon regarding our first shipment. It should be ready to move in the next few days.” “If I need to reach you?” “Pedrosa's number will reach me. I keep it as a reminder of what happens when I promote fools.” Standing, he gave a short, Continental bow. “Good evening, gentlemen.” Sonny looked at Rico and shook his head as soon as Moncado turned his back. They finished their drinks and headed out, Sonny leaving a twenty in addition to Moncado's money for Nita. The street was clear when they stepped out into the thick night air, and within seconds the valet had the Caddy idling at the curb. “Have a great night,” he said as Tubbs slipped him more cash. They were driving back to Casa Cooper when Tubbs finally spoke. “So what do you think of Moncado?” “That's one dangerous individual. Talks smooth as an ambulance-chasing lawyer, but did you see his eyes? Dead. Flat and dead. He'd cut your tongue out as soon as look at you and never feel a thing.” “Same thing I got.” Tubbs watched the road for a time. “We need to be damned careful with this one, partner.” “I wonder what Maynard has on him? To keep him on the leash.” “Maybe he just lets him burn a village from time to time.” “Maybe he does. There's some nasty stuff going on in Peru. Let alone Columbia. Maybe that's how Maynard keeps him reined in.” “I was kidding.” “I'm not.” Sonny looked out at the passing building lights. “I wouldn't put anything past Maynard.” “Yeah. Do you think he had anyone with him?” “No, but they might have been outside. We'll know more once we talk to the others.” Sonny thought back to the whole meeting. “He wouldn't bring anyone in because he doesn't think he needs anyone else with him. That dude is totally confident. It might be something we can use down the line.” “Yeah. But right now I'd rather get a drink and figure out how I'm going to get that table girl's number.” “Hell, I'll just call Robbie. What was her name? Debbie?” “Yeah. Debbie. At least that's what I think her name tag said.” Sonny chuckled. “You weren't looking at it, were you?” “Well..I was looking near it. Doesn't that count?” It was after one before Tubbs dropped Sonny back at the boat. “I'm sure Castillo will want to debrief in the morning,” he said as Sonny climbed out. “You want me to pick you up?” “Naw. I'll drive in. See you then.” Sonny turned, noticing with some unexpected regret that Jenny's boat was still gone. The scotch was still warming his stomach, so the walk to the boat was quick. He muttered reassurances to Elvis and went below. Morning would come before he knew it, and all he knew was he needed sleep.

It was the second day after the big deal when Sonny's pager finally went off. He was sitting topside, watching Elvis crunch down a late breakfast and wondering when Jenny would be back from wherever she went when he heard the damned thing buzz down on the saloon table. “No rest for the wicked. Ain't that right, Elvis?” The gator just snorted and turned back to his mangled tuna. Once below, Sonny picked up the phone. “Rico? Pedrosa finally shit and got off the pot. He just paged me from the usual number. Yeah, I'll meet you there.” Clicking off, he pulled on a shirt and shrugged into his shoulder rig before grabbing his white blazer and slipping on shoes. “Gotta run,” he told Elvis. “Don't eat anyone while I'm gone.” The familiar drive to the office building was short, and soon Sonny was sitting at the conference table. Stan stuck his head out of the tech room, his hair looking more wild than usual. “The lieutenant will be be here in five, Sonny. He had business over at the Federal Building. Trudy's going over the latest intercepts, and I finally got something from that worm Moreno.” “Something other than lice, I hope.” Sonny sipped at the coffee with appreciation. “One of these days you'll have to show me how you make this stuff, Stan.” “Sure. And then I'd have to kill you to keep the secret safe.” Stan chuckled. “And the first thing I did was make Izzy shower for an hour. But between ripping off the old people and losing his CI pay to them playing gin he managed to worm his way back into whatever sleezeball network he had before he went into hiding. We can't track it on the taps because it sounds like most of it's happening face to face, but he says someone's trying to hire up a lot of guns. They're not having much luck because of that little tussle between the Columbians and the Dominicans down around South Beach, but it's out there.” “He heard anything about new Peruvian flake showing up on the street?” “No, but he says that fight's putting a bit of a damper on trade.” “No surprise there.” Rico's voice cut through the air as he walked in. “But at least Moreno's finally earning his pay.” Stan nodded. “You learn anything more about that girl you wanted us to run, Sonny?” “No. Haven't been able to talk to her since then.” “A new lady?” Rico grinned as he sat down with a cup of coffee. “Is this one as messed up as Mikko?” “I don't know yet, Rico.” He told his partner about what had happened. “I can't get a read on this one.” “I can. Crockett crazy. You lure one out about once every four months.” “I guess I do at that.” He shook his head. “I don't know, though, man. Something's just off about her. Can't put my finger on it.” “Off as in off in the head.” Rico shook his head. “We sure can pick 'em, can't we, partner?” “I guess we can at that.” Sonny finished his coffee. “So are you going to call Little Carlos or just bust my chops all morning?” “The tape's ready to roll, Rico,” Stan announced from his doorway. “You don't need to wait for the lieutenant.” “Let's do it. Don't want to look too eager, you know.” Rico reached out and hit the right buttons before picking up the phone and dialing the familiar number. “It's a little early in the morning for games, Carlos,” he said without preamble. “What's on your mind?” The conversation went back and forth, Tubbs alternately assuring Pedrosa his people in New York were happy with the deal and then pressing for more. “They're gonna want a sit-down with all the major players,” he said, his voice dropping. “And sooner rather than later.” He listened for a time. “Well, I don't know what good us meeting again will do, but if that's what it takes to get your people to the bigger table I'm game. You've seen how much we can handle on short notice, but I need to know how much your people can provide on short notice. Yeah, I'll bring Burnett. He needs to know about quantity so he can adjust his end.” Finally he hung up, an annoyed look on his face. “What bug's up Pedrosa's ass?” “His own head.” Rico shook his head. “He wants another meeting. Tonight.” “Where?” “I didn't agree to a place. He thinks I need to get ahold of Burnett and see if he's available. But the little chump is set on tonight.” “Why tonight?” Castillo's voice made them start. Once again no one had heard him enter the room. “I don't know, lieutenant. He was pretty evasive about that. Seemed like he had a new shipment coming in or something, though. He wanted to know about capacity.” Rico gestured to the phone. “But if that's what it takes to bring Moncado to the table, I say go with it.” “Switek?” “Chatter isn't up at all, lieutenant. There's been some noise about more coke coming in, but more like it's on the normal schedule. This isabout the time they'd expect a new shipment, though.” “Do you think this is connected to the chatter Moreno heard?” “Honestly, I don't know.” Stan scratched at the stubble on his chin. “He didn't know whowas trying to hire muscle, only that someone was. It could be the Dominicans for all we know. They don't have as many local people as the Columbians, and they're falling behind.” Trudy came out of her office. “Stan's right, lieutenant. There's no way to tell who's trying to hire more guns. Metro-Dade's in a full press to stop the turf war, but they're not having much luck. OCB missed it, and the Gang unit doesn't have any intel on either the Columbians or Dominicans.” She shook her head. “So far they've piled up ten bodies in less than two weeks and the mayor's breathing down Metro's neck.” Sonny chuckled. “I'm damned glad we get to sit that circus out.” “Yes, but it makes our job harder. With that much action it's hard to pick our players out of the crowd.” Castillo rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “Proceed with the meet if you think it's justified. But be sure you have back-up. I just spoke with the chief deputy. Dave and Randy are ours without exception until at least the end of this operation. They've been notified and are waiting for your call.” “Outstanding!” Tubbs slammed his hand down on the table. “I second that.” Sonny leaned back in his chair. “Having two more people in the field means we can let Stan and Lester focus on what they're doing. Trudy, too. Without them Rico and I would be flailing in the water still trying to set up that first deal.” His face split in a wide grin, Tubbs reached for the phone. “Let's see if we can sweat Little Carlos for a change.” Sonny wasn't surprised when Dave picked up on the first ring. “Go.” “We've got a meet with Pedrosa tonight. Some club down near Little Havana called Toreador. He wants to talk more deals, and it wouldn't seem right for Burnett to show up without muscle.” Dave chuckled. “You got that right. And our boss says we're a team until he says we ain't. Any particulars on weapons?” “The .45s should do nicely. Why don't we meet for dinner about seven? The meet's at 2100, so that will give us time for some chow and planning. I don't know about you, but I hate going to these things on an empty stomach. You guys pick the place.” “There's a cafe called Key Largo down close to us. You know it?” “Yeah. They make a damned good Cuban sandwich.” “Cool. Meet us there.” “Key Largo?” Rico snorted when Sonny explained the plan. “Didn't they get busted by the health department last month?” Stan spoke up. “Naw. That was Key Rudolfo. And they got shut down. Key Largo's usually rating three stars out of four in the Herald's restaurant ratings.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I didn't develop this figure on chips and salsa, you know.” “It is on the edge of the turf being contested by the Columbians and Dominicans. Watch yourselves.” Castillo looked from one man to the other. “And that goes double at that club. It's right in the middle of the battleground.” “I wonder if Pedrosa knows that?” Trudy looked worried. “I'd be surprised if he didn't. But who knows with that chump? Maybe he just wants to show us his balls are big enough to hold a meet in the middle of a turf war.” “Or he's a moron who just likes the club.” Sonny flashed a thin smile. “Either way we've got solid back-up and this isn't much more than an advanced meet and greet. Some show and tell before the big meeting goes down.” Still, he couldn't shake the little spider feet dancing their way up the back of his neck. I'd better clean the artillery before this one goes downhe thought, looking down at his fingernails. Just in case we wander into some part of that turf war. “I know that look.” Tubbs chuckled. “Get out the rags, Stan. We're having us a gun-cleaning party.” Castillo turned on his way to his office. “Change your ammunition, too. We're switching to hollowpoints. As of now. That goes for everyone in this office. Dave and Randy know and have already changed over. I don't want a situation where a civilian is killed or injured because one of our rounds over-penetrated.” “Does Metro-Dade know?” Sonny asked, reaching down to pull out his Detonics. “No. And they don't need to. We're not in the chain of command.” “Can't say I'm sorry.” Tubbs slipped out his revolver. “When I have to shoot some chump I want him DOWN, not dripping from some damned through-and-through. We had enough of that when I was NYPD.” “Turn your ball ammunition in to Stan. We still use it on the range. But from now on when you leave this office it will be with hollowpoints.” Castillo turned and headed into his office, closing the door behind him. “Couldn't come at a better time.” Sonny looked at his two pistols on the table. “Stan, could you bring out some boxes of those hollowpoints? I'm going to change them all out now, including my extra mags.” He shook his head. “Never mind. I'm being a lazy ass. I need the cleaning gear, too. Hang tight and I'll grab it. You want me to bring some 9mm for you?” Stan nodded, his eyes wide. “Thanks, Sonny.” “No problem. I'll grab some .38s for you, Rico. And Trudy, I'll bet you could use some of that .45 ACP, too. I'll be right back.” The armory smelled of gun oil, and Sonny took a moment to breathe in the familiar tangy fragrance. It had been a part of his life for as long as he could remember, moving from his father and uncles cleaning shotguns in the kitchen to Marine Corps boot camp and the deadly fields and jungles of Vietnam to his time as a cop. It always grounded him. Searching the shelves, he gathered cleaning gear and boxes of rounds in the required calibers before returning to the table, his arms full. Stan had laid out old towels to soak up any excess oil, along with strips of sheets torn into cleaning patches. “You ever think of switching out that Browning, Stan?” Switek looked across the table at Rico. “I'll do that about the time you trade in your snubbie, Tubbs.” “Point taken, my man.” Rico chuckled, loading each .38 hollowpoint into the chambers of his Smith & Wesson. “Although I see someone talked Trudy out of hers.” “While you guys were gone we had a shootout with a couple of dealers on the edge of Little Haiti.” She looked up from the disassembled pieces of her Safari Arms .45. “I hit one of them four times and he just kept coming.” She shuddered at the memory. “Stan finally dropped him with two slugs from the Browning. After that...I had to try something different.” She smiled at Sonny before turning back to her pistol. “I remembered Sonny swore by the .45 of his so I figured I'd give one a try.” “It puts an end to most arguments,” Sonny agreed, running an oiled patch along the slide grooves in the frame of his 4506. “And it's easier to get ammo for. After the Feebs screwed up with 10mm, it pretty much vanished.” Rico looked up again. “How bad is this gang war you were talkin' about, Trudy? First I'd really heard of it aside from the newscasts.” “It's bad enough. Luckily we don't get involved now, but I hear OCB is getting pulled in more and more because of the narcotics angle.” Trudy looked down, collecting her thoughts and sliding the recoil spring over its retaining rod at the same time. “It's more about the Columbians trying to muscle in on what's been traditionally Dominican turf. Some say it started over the pot trade, but I've also read reports claiming it's over who controls hookers. We've been at this long enough to know it's probably both, and some personal heat on top of that.” “Yeah.” Tubbs wiped excess oil from the frame of his revolver. “Columbians and Dominicans don't mix. We saw that in New York off and on. All it takes is one of them insulting the other's mother or girlfriend and an entire neighborhood would catch fire.” “Sounds like small-time Columbians, then.” Sonny worked the slide of his pistol, testing the action. “As far as we can tell it is.” Trudy nodded. “No big names involved. In fact, they're taking a strictly hands-off approach.” “Maybe they think it's bad for business.” “It is, Stan.” Sonny nodded. “For their business at least. When people are shooting they aren't buying the product. And dead bodies tend to keep tourists and buyers away from the best markets. No, they don't like these things much unless they're starting them or finishing them.” “So far it's pretty contained. Metro-Dade's worried the Cubans might get involved if it spills too far into Little Havana, so they're mostly doing containment and damage control. How long that will work is anyone's guess.” “Do you think it will impact our operation?” She thought for a minute and then shook her head. “I don't think so. Not as long as it stays how it is now. Pedrosa's got ties to the Columbian side, but Moncado's playing at a much higher level. He'd see those gangs as peasants, not brothers in arms. He'll keep Pedrosa on the sidelines, I think. There's always the danger of stray bullets, but I haven't seen any direct links between Moncado's network and the Columbians down around Little Havana. He's been careful to keep his people out of local affairs aside from being a supplier.” “That's Maynard at work.” Sonny recognized the technique. “He'll try all he can to stay out of the small, local stuff. Like you said, it's bad for business. He'd rather be the supplier from on high. That way he also doesn't owe anyone.” He inserted a reloaded magazine in the butt of the Smith & Wesson and chambered a round, watching with satisfaction as the slide slammed forward and the hammer dropped on the rotating safety. Dumping the magazine, he fed another round in before locking it back into place. Then he turned to the Detonics, except he didn't chamber a round. It wasn't that he didn't trust the safety, but there was something about having a cocked and locked pistol positioned to blow his foot off that always gave him pause. Tubbs looked at his Rolex, confiscated from the wrist of a dead Panamanian money man six years before. “Looks like we'd better get moving, partner. Your ride or mine?” “Why not go in style, Tubbs?” “The Caddy it is.” Tubbs grinned and got up from the table. “We'll call if anything goes south.” It was a short drive to Key Largo, and Sonny sat back, content to enjoy the ride for a change. With the top down he could smell the city in all its glory, reminding him again why he lived on a boat. Once they were there Tubbs steered the Caddy into a tight parallel parking spot and hopped out. “I'm starving, partner. This place better be good.” “Not as good as that parking job.” Sonny whistled in admiration. “It's New York City. Had to try to park many a squad car in my rookie days, and unmarked units later for Armed Robbery. You learn to parallel park almost as soon as you learn to breathe.” Tubbs chuckled. “How much do you want to bet those two are already here?” “Either here or watching somewhere close by.” Sonny adjusted his sunglasses and unbuttoned his blazer, careful to keep it closed to hide the big Smith & Wesson. “They train those guys to be scary thorough.” “I noticed.” Tubbs pointed up at the pastel neon tubes flickering on and off. “Looks like we're here.” Key Largo might have been a terrible choice for a name, Sonny decided as they walked in, but the food always smelled fantastic. Even Tubbs had to agree, looking over and raising his eyebrows in approval. Looking down the row of booths by the big front windows, they spotted Dave and Randy at a table near the back. “Of course,” Tubbs muttered, leading the way. “They would sit in the back where they could see the door.” “And with their backs to the wall,” Crockett replied. “It's like watchingGunsmokealmost.” Dave nodded as they got near. “Coffee's on the way and we got menus for you, too.” “Solid.” Tubbs sat down and picked up the laminated pages. “Damn! How many sandwiches does this place have?” “At least twenty-five.” Randy slapped his partner on the shoulder. “And I think Dave's eaten at least of of each the entire time we've been in Miami.” “What can I say? I like sandwiches.” Dave grinned, and then his eyes went all business. “What's the plan for tonight?” “We're meeting Carlos at Toreador at 2100 like I said.” Sonny nodded to Tubbs. “It's his show. We're just decoration. I'm along in case they need to talk transportation, and you're there because Burnett never goes anywhere without his guns.” “Sounds good. We got the brief on that little gang spat going down in that area, too. Never hurts to have extra firepower along.” “Joo got it, mang.” Tubbs laughed. “Sorry. That makes more sense if you ever meet one of our CIs. Cat named Izzy. He mangles the English language in ways you just can't understand.” Dave laughed. “We don't deal much with CIs these days. Had our share back in Butte, though. You get some real winners.” “Izzy's not bad as far as they go.” Sonny spoke up, surprised at himself for defending Moreno. “He's mostly a con artist. Sells fake shoes and shit like that. But you'd be amazed at the stuff he hears. He's been wrong before, but he's mostly right.” Coffee came, and then they ordered. It was just after eight thirty when the last dishes were cleared and they drained their last cups of coffee. “Toreador isn't too far from here,” Tubbs said, counting out bills to leave on the table. “You want to just take the Caddy?” “Sure.” Randy didn't hesitate. “Looks more natural if we arrive together anyhow. In case someone's watching.” The little spider was back tiptoeing up and down the back of Sonny's neck. “Something just doesn't feel right about this. I don't know what the hell it is, but it's off.” “We got your six.” Dave kept his voice low as they piled into the big car. “I hate it when those little fingers start tappin' on your spine.” “You get those, too?” “Yeah, he does.” Randy answered for his partner. “And I don't think they've ever been wrong.” They parked in a lot next to the club; a low brick building with a garish slash of red neon screaming 'Toreador' proclaiming its existence among the rest of Miami's lower-rent clubs. Tubbs filled them in as they walked to the door. “Place is mostly Latins inside. We'll stick out, but not enough to draw major notice. I've been here a few times as Cooper, so the door guys know me.” Dave chuckled. “We both speak Spanish pretty well. Did a tour in the Canal Zone before we punched out.” “But we also know how to pretend we don't.” Randy's smile was wide. “That comes in damned handy, let me tell you.” Sonny hung back, letting Tubbs lead to the door. The bouncer, a big man who looked more Samoan than Latin, gave him a quick glance and nodded. “Good to see you again, Senior Cooper. These gentlemen with you?” “You got it, Jaimie. This here's Sonny Burnett and his two associates.” The big man nodded, his face losing its challenging aspect. “I've heard of you, Senior Burnett. I hope you enjoy Toreador.” He unclipped the rope and held the door, ushering them past a growing line of people waiting to get in. Inside it was like most clubs trying to make the jump to the next level, although Sonny wondered if they'd somehow been conned into letting Izzy decorate the place. Bullfighting dominated the décor, ranging from red capes on the walls to an ornate set of bull horns above the bar. The place was crowded, men and women alike jammed elbow to elbow at the bar or on the dance floor moving to some variety of salsa music piped over the sound system. “He said he'd have a table at the back,” Tubbs shouted over the music and babble of voices. “I think that's him over there.” “I'm liking this less and less, partner.” Sonny unbuttoned his blazer as they moved through the crowd. His Spanish was good enough to pick up some of the crowd's talk, but it centered mostly who was going to get laid tonight and how they were going to do it. Pretty standard for a clubhe thought, trying to both tune it out and banish thoughts of Jenny. Instead he looked around, trying to spot anyone familiar from their first meeting with Pedrosa. He couldn't see the little coward coming without his goons to watch his back. Dave seemed to have the same idea. “Not seein' any familiar faces,” he muttered to Sonny as they neared the table. “Course in this light I don't know's I'd recognize my mother.” Pedrosa's whiney voice cut through the club's static like a dull razor. “Cooper! Over here!” When they reached the table, he waved them to chairs. “Sit. I'm afraid your men will have to stand, Burnett. Not enough room at the table.” Sonny lifted a finger and Dave and Randy shifted to cover all avenues of approach. “I don't see your buddies, Carlos. They out getting dry-cleaned?” Pedrosa's laugh was sharp. “This is my house. I don't need them here.” He turned back to Tubbs. “But we need to talk, yes? How do you say...face-to-face. I know you want to meet the man above me, but he will want assurances. How much you can move. How often you can move it. Those things he must have.” Tubbs steepled his fingers. “I can move as much as you can bring in, and as often as you can deliver. I told you: my people have networks all through the east coast and as far west as Detroit. Maybe Chicago soon. That's lots of product. Maybe more than you have.” Pedrosa waved his hand. “I hear talk.” Sonny leaned over the table. “Look, pal. I moved four hundred keys the other night with no notice, and Mr. Cooper paid the same way. I'm thinking we're hearing more talk that you are.” He turned to Tubbs. “Maybe what I heard is true, Mr. Cooper. Maybe Pedrosa is all hot air.” “Who says this?” Sonny smiled, knowing he'd hit a nerve. “Oh, you know. The usual suspects. What's left of the Mendoza family business. Guellero Ortiz and his boys. People with supplies Mr. Cooper can depend on.” Tubbs raised his hand. “Let him run his mouth, Burnett. All my people care about are results. We've had two reasonable deals and one that almost got us killed. I take that back. We've had one reasonable deal. The first time the product was sub-par. My people will want assurances you can bring in consistent amounts and good quality. And for that we'd need to talk to your supplier.” Pedrosa started to speak, then clamped his mouth shut. Sonny could see furrows appear on his forehead as he tried to control his temper. Then he laughed. “Very good, Mr. Cooper. I like a man who is all business. Burnett, you'll need another boat like that for our next deal. And my boss would like to speak with you, Cooper. My car is outside with the phone. You can set up your meeting with him now if you'd like.” “Solid.” Tubbs got to his feet. “Lead the way, Carlos.” The spiders were dancing again, and Sonny took his time standing, waiting for Dave and Randy to get in position. He locked eyes with Dave and gave a slight nod, one the former Marine returned. He's got the same feeling. Something's going down, and if it's here it's going to be messy with all these people. But I don't see any of his men.Sonny's eyes darted from one shadow to the next, looking for a glint of metal, movement, motioned commands. Anything indicating the start of an ambush. But he saw nothing except Pedrosa forcing his way through the crowd and Tubbs trailing along in his wake. The club's bold neon dyed the sidewalk the color of blood as they stepped out into the night. Pedrosa nodded to the doorman and turned right, heading for the parking lot. Tubbs followed, and Sonny was about to when he noticed the doorman moving fast in the opposite direction. Taking cover. Hauling out his 4506, the stainless steel turning red in the neon light, Sonny started moving himself. “Rico!” he yelled, trying to get away from the club door and the line of people looking in shock at what was unfolding in front of them. “It's a trap!” Dave and Randy reacted like a single, well-oiled machine, their .45s coming at as they shouted for people to get down or get out of the way. Tubbs turned at Crockett's shout, his own Chief's Special filling his hand. Pedrosa turned, a big Beretta coming out from under his jacket. “You and I, Burnett! We don't need Cooper! This isn't your fight.” Sonny looked past Pedrosa, seeing a flash of interior dome light as four men came out of a dark Lincoln parked just out of the cone of light cast by a light pole. He hadn't noticed it before, and knew where Pedrosa had been hiding his men. They must have moved the second they saw their boss pull his piece. “I don't think so, Pedrosa! I only work with people I trust.” “Then you die with him!” Pedrosa brought up the 9mm, its muzzle moving as he tried to track Tubbs' movements as he ran for the cover of a car parked along the street. He got off one shot, blasting chunks from the concrete just behind Tubbs' feet, and then slugs from three big .45s blasted him off his feet as Sonny, Dave, and Randy all fired at almost the same instant, the boom of their pistols blending into one roar. Blood misted the air, and Sonny imagined he could see it soaking Pedrosa's suit and the grass under his body. “Boss!” One of Pedrosa's goons shouted as the rest raised their guns. Rocking up from behind a Ford, Sonny saw flashes of light off handguns as they ran toward the fallen man. Thank God they left the automatic weapons at homehe thought, taking a solid two-handed grip on the big Smith & Wesson. Shots rang out, and he heard the sickening thud of bullets ripping into metal. The same voice rang out over the echoes of the shots. “Kill them all!” Off to his left Sonny heard two pops as Rico announced he was still alive and kicking. One of the men screamed, a sharp noise over the shots. “I'm hit! Son of a bitch caught me in the...” No one would ever learn where he'd been hit. A shot boomed from the side of the club sheltering the two marshals and the first man shouted again. “They got Enrique! The bastards got Enrique!” More shots boomed out and he felt the car lurch on its shocks as it absorbed more lead meant for him. Gathering himself, Sonny came to his feet, years of training and experience kicking in as one smooth motion. We have to drop them before they start spraying and hitting innocentshe thought, very aware of people running from the club and away from the gunfire. Orienting on sound, he saw the leader waving his arms and still shouting about evening the score. The light wasn't great, but he could see his front sight float in on the man and then he squeezed the trigger twice; once the long double-action pull of a first shot and the second the shorter single-action follow-on he'd practiced so many times on the range and used in the field. There was enough light for him to see a distinctive spray as the man was knocked back to the pavement, his pistol falling from lifeless fingers. The last two men didn't like the odds they were facing. One of them sent four rounds booming into parked cars near Sonny and Tubbs, catching a bullet in the chest from Randy for his trouble. The last just jumped through the still-open door of the Lincoln and slammed the big car into gear. He almost rammed three cars and clipped the side of the club in his haste to get away, tires screaming on the warm asphalt and the engine straining as he slammed his foot to the floor. Sonny stood, smoke curling from the wide muzzle of his pistol, and looked down at Pedrosa's body. Time started flowing normally again, and he felt the usual sag as his body purged its adrenalin. Randy and Dave still had their pistols out, and he could hear shouts and screams through the ringing in his ears. Tubbs clapped a hand on his shoulder. “We'd better get gone before the cavalry arrives.” He moved his head, and Sonny could hear screaming sirens in the distance. “Yeah. Load up, guys! We need to make tracks.” “Copy that.” In seconds they were in the big Caddy and racing away from the shootout. It had been no more than five minutes since Sonny saw the doorman running for cover. “And that's how you knew?” Castillo sat in his normal spot at the head of the table, his eyes downcast.” “That's right, lieutenant. We'd just exited the club when I saw Pedrosa nod to the doorman. Next thing I know he's making tracks for greener pastures and I shouted at Tubbs.” Dave nodded. “I saw the big guy making tracks, too. I though the same thing Crockett did; that shit was about to go down. No other reason a doorman leaves his post.” “Thank you for your input, deputy.” Castillo didn't look up. “Did you notice anything else?” “Sure.” Dave pressed on, seeming unimpressed by Castillo's studied silences. “He had his guys waitin' in a car running in the parking lot. That means he intended to lead us out there and kill Detective Tubbs. I don't know if he was planning to kill Detective Crockett or not, but the fact that the car was runnin' leads me to conclude he had his own ass covered. At least. And since he only brought four men, I don't think he expected me and Randy to be there. That he tried it anyhow makes me think he was under more pressure than we thought.” “Or more greedy than we thought.” Tubbs jumped in now. “He offered Sonny the transportation for the deals. He must have figured you knew Cooper's New York contacts and figured the two of you could just cut me out.” “It makes sense.” Sonny nodded, seeing the narco-logic in the idea. “Except he didn't really do his homework.” “Maybe he did. Don't forget, Burnett took out the Manolo cartel from inside by brokering their deals and working transportation.” Tubbs chuckled. “Maybe he thought he could make history repeat itself.” Trudy came out of the intel office. “Good news. No one else was hit in the whole incident. A few cars have significant bullet damage, and I hear the doorman wet his pants. But other than that only the bad guys went down.” She smiled. “Metro-Dade has an alert out for five gunman of Cuban origin, so I think your covers are still intact.” Castillo nodded. “Good. Keep an eye on it. If things start developing, let me know and I'll have the chief deputy reach out with some story about a Federal operation.” Randy nodded. “He'll enjoy the hell out of that. Any word on where the leak in Metro-Dade might be, sir?” “Not yet. They still want to dismiss it as rumors. I don't.” He finally looked up. “Not the outcome we'd intended, but good job tonight. The right people ended up dead and no one else was injured.” “Lieutenant, I'm going to call Pedrosa's old number in thirty seconds or so and leave a message.” Tubbs leaned in, his eyes intense. “I don't think Moncado knew about this, and I want to sound pissed off but still willing to work something out. If he's checking, we'll hear back.” “Do it.” Castillo rose from his chair. “Keep me posted on any developments. Excellent work again, gentlemen. We'll meet again once we understand the fallout from Pedrosa's stunt tonight.” Dave waited until Castillo left the room. “Is he always like that?” Tubbs shook his head. “Naw. That was relaxed Castillo. You should see him when he's serious.” Sonny chuckled. “He's an intense guy. No mistake. But he's also the best commander I've ever had. And you'd better get busy on that phone, Rico. We need to know if Moncado's still in the game or if we're going to have to find a new hook for him.” He looked around. “What happened to Lester and Stan? You lock 'em in that clubhouse of theirs?” Trudy looked up from her notes and shook her head. “No. They're out changing some of the bugs. I guess the batteries die or some such.” She shrugged. “You know how it is when those two talk.” “Yeah. Just strange when one of 'em isn't here.” He looked over as Tubbs worked the phone, building into a rage about almost being killed by that damned fool Carlos and then ramping back down to announce he was still open to a deal, but only for the next twenty-four hours. “After that my happy ass is in a plane back to New York and you're shit out of luck. And don't even try coming up the East Coast on your own if you don't reach out. My associates have long memories, and they won't like one of your people trying to whack me.” Randy smiled. “That was a damned hard sell. You think it'll work?” “Don't know.” Tubbs adjusted his red tie. “But it's how Cooper rolls so I gotta stay in character. I gave him my pager number this time so he'll know I'm serious.” “I noticed. Don't worry, pal, I'm not trying to steal your prom date.” Sonny was about to get up when he stopped. A pager was going off, and it wasn't his. Rico looked down at his waistband and grinned. “Showtime, boys and girls.” Trudy was up like someone had shocked her. “I'll get the lieutenant.” “So what number's he using?” “Not Pedrosa's.” Tubbs looked around. “Where's a surveillance tech when you need one?” “Make the call.” Castillo stood in his office doorway. “Switek set it up to record automatically when you use one of his routed lines before they went out to check the bugs.” “Solid. I'll use a line close to a club, but far away from Toreador just in case he's got eyes on the dump.” Rico hit two buttons and then dialed, reading the number off the small LED pager screen. “This is Cooper. Who's paging me?” He gave a quick thumbs up and then settled into his best negotiating Cooper routine. “I never said you ordered a hit, Mr. Moncado, but I'm sure you understand my position. My associates won't be happy that your people tried to have me killed and wanted to cut me out of the deal.” Sonny watched as Rico's brow furrowed. “That's exactly what Pedrosa said before one of Burnett's associates was forced to kill him. So that's not your position? I see. I can try to smooth things over, but as I said my associates have long memories and don't easily forgive insults. No, Burnett was not involved. In fact he and his men saved my life and your end of the deal.” He listened for a time. “That was Pedrosa's assumption. A wrong one. Burnett doesn't know my New York connections and doesn't want to know them. Just like I don't know his people in the pipeline and don't want to know them. It works for us. We each need each other and have an interest in protecting each other. As your organization should have learned tonight.” He smiled but kept his voice hard. “Of course my people know. Like I said, I can talk to them and try to smooth things over. There might be a price adjustment until things return to normal. Can I call you at this number? Solid. I'll let you know.” Castillo didn't blink. “How did he sound?” “Pissed and scared in equal measure.” Rico chuckled. “I think it's a good thing Pedrosa's dead, at least for his sake. I don't know how long that last man of his is going to live, though. I think Moncado's men already scooped him up.” “Play him for a day, then set up a meeting. We want to move while he's still off-balance.” Castillo looked up, holding each of them with a stare. “Make no mistake. Moncado is dangerous. Very dangerous. He's our path to Maynard, but he's no lightweight like Pedrosa. Never underestimate him or his capacity for violence.” He turned to Trudy. “Bring Switek and Lester up to speed as soon as they're back. I want to know everything they've picked up in the last six hours. Intelligence is our biggest edge here and I don't want any of it slipping through the cracks.” Randy got to his feet. “Dave and I will update the chief deputy, boss. Anything else for us?” “Stay in contact with Crockett and Tubbs. When this moves it will move fast and we'll need all the help we can get.” Once the two deputies were gone, Castillo turned to Sonny. “How did they do?” “Fantastic. I'm hoping no one in their office gets a wild hair and pulls them back.” “They won't.” “Good.” Sonny leaned back in his chair, the adrenalin from the shootout finally purged from his entire body. “You know, lieutenant, this whole thing's gonna change as soon as Maynard sees a picture of Burnett.” “I know.” “He'll come after me. Hard. But that's good. He'll start making real mistakes then.” Sonny smiled. It was a thin thing that didn't touch his eyes. “I don't think he knows we're actually after him. He probably thinks we're targeting Moncado, or just following a drug network up the ladder.” “Let him keep thinking that. When you meet Moncado, convince him you don't know there's anyone behind him. That might make them both careless.” Castillo rubbed his eyes. “Now both of you should go home. Get some rest. You might need it.”

They handed off the cocaine to a nondescript crew manning a nondescript motor launch of uncertain origin or destination. Once they motored out of sight, Sonny turned to his own crew. “Any bets on what agency they're from?” Both Dave and Randy spoke at the same time. “DEA. They didn't talk enough for FBI and sure as hell weren't CIA.” “How's that?” Rico asked as he looked at the fading shadow of their visitor. “CIA might have tried to take us out. That and they were all palefaces. CIA likes to work through hired help when they can.” Dave spat over the side into the swirling, dark water. “I hope to hell they don't hold some big press conference to brag about a big bust.” Randy shook his head. “Wouldn't be the first time.” “Yeah, but with Castillo watching them it would be the last.” Sonny cranked the wheel, turning the cabin cruiser back toward Miami. “I expect they'll sit on it for a few weeks and then claim they got it on the way to New York or Washington.” He checked the compass and chart again. “I'm going to take it slow so it looks like we made a longer run than we did. You guys might want to catch some sleep. We won't be back until close to mid-day.” “Don't mind if I do.” Tubbs stretched and yawned. “Try to keep us out of any hurricanes, partner.” Once they'd all gone belowdecks, Sonny settled into the rhythm of the boat. He'd sleep once they got back to the marina. Now it was a question of making it there and processing what had happened. The whole deal had gone off smoothly, but he was anxious to find out what Stan's bugs had sniffed out as soon as they left the dock. All he knew is he was tired of dancing with Pedrosa. It was time to move up in the world. Checking his position, Sonny throttled back a bit more. He wanted to crawl along in the darkness, using the coming dawn to move up to a more normal cruising speed. Then they'd look like they were making good time back to Miami instead of raising questions about why they were moving so slow. It wasn't likely Pedrosa had someone watching the channels, but you could never be sure. And just because Pedrosa might not didn't mean Moncado felt the same way. The deal had gone down according to plan, but Sonny felt better about his talk with Robbie. Even with the dreams. It was something he should have done long ago, and he was glad it hadn't been too late. Stars sparkled overhead as he adjusted course again, splitting his attention between memories and the twin realities of chart and compass. He also made sure the navigation lights were on. The last thing he needed was to turn the cabin cruiser into a hood ornament for a freighter or some damned wandering cruise ship. They tied up at the marina just after noon. Sonny asked Dave and Randy to stay for a celebratory drink, but they shook their heads. “Damned paperwork,” Randy said with a disgusted snort. “Give us a hollar tonight and maybe we can arrange something.” “You got it.” Sonny finished shutting the engines down and checking the lines one last time before stepping ashore. “Rico and I have our own paper to waste, I expect.” Tubbs nodded, still blinking sleep from his eyes. He'd slept most of the way back, only rolling off his berth just before the boat came to a stop at the dock. “Yeah. I expect we do. That and I need to keep the heat on Pedrosa.” “Don't look too eager.” Dave grinned before turning and following Randy down the dock. “You gotta tease him a bit now.” “Let's see if Stan and Lester have anything new. Hell, Trudy might have more on Moncado, too. There's more to this than just Pedrosa.” This time Lester met them at the conference room door. “You guys should hear the tapes! Moncado's all worked up about this deal. Sounds like Pedrosa's trying to slow him down, though.” “Do tell?” Sonny walked in, followed by Tubbs. “Where is everyone?” “Stan's taking his turn in the Bug Van and checking in with that...Izzy? Is that his name?” Lester shook his head. “The lieutenant had a meeting downtown and Trudy's pulling some files over at OCB. Turns out we got records hits on some of Pedrosa's gunmen.” “So no one wants to greet the conquering heroes?” Tubbs shook his head. “Man, that's just wrong.” “The lieutenant told me to tell you DEA was happy with that coke. Does that count?” “Damn! Dave and Randy were right!” Tubbs laughed. “And don't tell me they're going to have a press conference about some seizure or another?” “No. Not for at least three weeks.” Sonny sat down with a sigh. “This is all very interesting, girls, but what's our next move?” He wasn't really expecting an answer. Truth is I'm damned tired. A day or two with no deals would be nice right about now. Lester must have read his mind. “I don't think anything, at least for a day or two. Unless that Izzy,” he paused. “Who the hell names their kid Izzy? Anyhow, unless Izzy has something new I think the lieutenant wants to let Pedrosa sit and stew. Stan might be setting up some gear in your friend's club, Sonny, but that's about it as far as I know.” “Solid.” Tubbs yawned, his jaws cracking. “I don't know about my partner, but I could use a day with no meetings or excitement.” “That goes double for me. We don't want to hit these guys too hard. Maynard might smell a rat and start digging around. And Moncado doesn't sound like anybody's fool, either. It might be time for the slow touch.” Lester nodded. “I've got transcripts here if you want to see what went down on the comms after the deal went through.” “Thanks, man. We'll do that.” Tubbs walked over and poured himself a cup of coffee. “You want some, Sonny?” “Yeah, thanks. Let's see what those bozos were up to once we sailed out of sight. Might be something good buried in there.” Sonny looked down the table and his eyes went wide. “What the hell are those binders, Lester? The dictionary?” “No. Those hot-blooded Latin types like to talk. More than Reno did.” Lester chuckled. “That's what they said last night and into this morning.” “Well, shit. Guess we'd better get started, Rico. Castillo might have a test on this later.” They were still turning pages in the transcript binders when Martin Castillo returned, his thin black leather tie somewhat askew from the heat outside. He took a moment to straighten it and then spoke. “Good work last night, detectives. We're one step closer.” “Thanks, lieutenant.” Sonny waved his hand at the binder. “These idiots never shut up, do they?” “Lucky for us, no.” Castillo looked at the binders, his eyes hooded. “But there's something off about Pedrosa. About what he says. I won't be sure until I listen to the tapes.” “All of them?” “Yes.” “You're a better man that I am, lieutenant.” Tubbs chuckled. “Ain't no way I could deal with those chumps cacklin' in my ears for hours. Reno was bad enough, but Little Carlos makes me wish I was deaf.” “Don't underestimate them. Especially their ambition. Pedrosa wants to move up. That makes him dangerous.” Castillo turned and headed for his office. “Why don't you two take a day or two? Get some rest and let him worry about things he doesn't need to worry about.” “You don't have to tell me twice!” Sonny grabbed his dark blazer off the back of his chair. “We'll check in just in case Izzy turns up something or there's a new lead. And Lester? You or Stan can call Robbie during the day to set up that booth. Just let him know you're working with me.” “Wait up, partner! Don't go thinking I'm gonna let you handle all this good karma by yourself!” Tubbs snatched up his own suit jacket, leaving the binder open on the table. Castillo watched them go, a ghost of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. “Make the call about the wire in the morning. I want this taken care of before we need it. And let Mr. Cann know he'll be compensated for his trouble.” “You want me to log this one, too.” “No. We'll list it as per the property owner's request. No warrant, no record.” Castillo stepped into his office and shut the door, leaving Lester to his own devices. “So we've got at least a couple of days with no Carlos Pedrosa.” Sonny brought the Ferrari to a stop at a red light two blocks down from the task force building. “Got any big plans?” “Find a Mikko who's not crazy or hauling some Dolphins linebacker along with her.” Tubbs chuckled, his eyes on the cars around them. “You?” “Hell, I don't know. I'd like to get some offshore time in, but we don't have that kind of time. Maybe I'll take the cabin cruiser up the coast a bit. Just get away from it all for a day.” The light turned green and Sonny hit the gas, rocketing away from the convertible next to them. “Of course as soon as I do that Moreno will call in with some bogus tip or another and I'd have to come back and chase that down. Then I'd just want to kill the little moron. No, maybe it's best if I stick around close.” “Why did you have to bring up Moreno? He's been quiet too damned long. It's not natural.” “No, it's not. Meaning he's either found nothing or he found something that scared him enough he doesn't want to tell us about it.” Sonny gave a thin smile. “Stan'll scare it out of him if he's sitting on anything, though.” Sonny dropped Tubbs off outside his building, promising to call later if anything turned up. From there it was a quick drive to the marina and the familiar walk out to the St. Vitus Dance. He could see Elvis' bulk up on the bow and knew the gator was lost in his late afternoon nap. Heading below, he shed his coat and shoulder rig, leaving the Detonics in its ankle holster just in case. Pulling a beer out of the galley fridge he went back topside and sat down, opening the can and taking a long, deep drink. “Hell of a week,” he muttered to no one, looking down the dock at the other boats tied up nearby. He wondered how many of them used the boat to cover a lie of one sort or another. Like he did every day. He'd first noticed the girl two boats down about a month back. “No,” he muttered, correcting himself. “Not a girl. Woman really.” She looked to be in her late 20s or early 30s, with the deep tan and sun-bleached hair of someone who spent a great deal of time out on the water. Her boat was newer than the Dance, and a touch bigger, but he'd never seen a man on deck. He'd never seen anyone else on deck for that matter. Just her. Working the lines. Powering out from the marina before hoisting the sails and heading south to the sea. And then reversing the process when she came home again a day or three later. In spite of himself he wondered about her. Had she bought the boat herself? Inherited it? Gotten it as part of a divorce? What did she do on the water all by herself? Was she meeting someone down the coast? Or just getting away from it all, like he did from time to time. She had a trim, athletic figure with curves in all the right places, and he knew she was capable of handing her boat alone. Once or twice he'd caught her watching him, and he wondered what she saw. A drunken dock bum with a taste for exotic pets? Someone dangerous who ran on the outlaw side and should be avoided? Especially now that he'd crowded the dock with three boats. Part of his job was to read and see people, and from time to time he turned the experience back on himself. Often he didn't like what he saw, and this was no exception. But if she saw trouble, why did she look that second time? He almost dropped his beer when she cleared her throat at the end of the gangway. “Sorry.” She had a throaty voice pitched somewhere between soprano and alto, conditioned by salt air and Virginia Slims from the pack in her left hand. In her right she held a six pack. “Didn't mean to sneak up on you. I was just about to have a beer and realized we haven't met.” “My fault. I wasn't paying attention to a damned thing.” Getting up, Sonny waved her on board. “I'm Sonny Burnett and that's Elvis over there. He doesn't bite unless provoked.” “You've got an alligator? That's way cool.” She smiled, showing even, white teeth and dimples that made her blue eyes sparkle. “I'm Jenny Walker. No, not Johnny's sister.” He laughed with her. “I bet you get that a lot.” “You have no idea.” She sat down next to him, offering him a bottle. “Looks like that can's empty.” “Thanks.” Sonny accepted the Miller bottle with a smile. “So do you always share beer with neighbors?” “No. Not always.” She smiled again, and he could see the outline of her blue bikini top through the thin white shirt she'd thrown on before leaving her boat. “Usually I just sit on deck and drink it myself.” “Yeah. Not always much fun, though.” The beer was cold and crisp on his tongue, oddly enough a welcome change from the warmth of Jack Daniel's “Same thing I thought. So I figured I'd come down and say hello to the guy with the boat collection.” Sonny chuckled. “The cabin cruiser's a friend's. I'm just watching it for him for a couple of weeks. But yeah, I guess I do have a bit of a collection.” “How do you like the marina? I haven't been here that long and it's hard to get a feel for the place.” “Most of the folks who tie up here for any length of time are older. Makes for fewer parties, but it also means you don't have to worry about some drunk dude puking on your seat cushions at three in the morning.” Sonny smiled. “Guy who runs the place is good people and looks after things. Hell, I've been here for years and wouldn't tie up anyplace else.” She took a pull from her beer, draining close to a third in one go. “Good. I could use someplace quiet.” He sensed the invited question but wasn't sure if he wanted to go there yet. But caution had never been his strong suit when it came to women. “Hard times?” “Something like that.” She looked out over the water, and he wondered if he'd misread or asked too soon. Then she spoke again. “I came down from up around Lauderdale. There was some stuff I needed to get away from. Nothing interesting, but it was time to go. So here I am.” “Sounds simple enough.” Sonny knew it wasn't. He never attracted women with simple problems. He made a note to have Lester run her name and see what popped up. “So what's your story?” “Aside from the alligator?” He smiled. “Not much. I do contract transportation now and again. Nothing exciting, but it pays the bills and keeps Elvis back there in tuna when I'm not catching his supper.” Now it was her turn to smile. “Simple is complicated, right? Don't worry, I won't pry.” She finished her beer and pulled another bottle out of the carrier. She leaned back and stretched, pulling the t-shirt tight. “Sorry. It's been a long day.” “Yeah.” He drained his beer and accepted another when she held up the carrier. “Thanks. I don't want to drink all your beer, though. I've got some down below, so I'll buy the next round.” “Don't worry. I've got plenty on my boat.” She gave him a funny half-smile that didn't quite match what her eyes were saying as she looked at him. “We can always move over there when we run out.” He chuckled. “I fed Elvis not too long ago. He's not going to take a chunk out of you.” “I know. I just feel more comfortable on my own boat.” She smiled and shrugged. “I know it's weird.” “Naw, not really.” He smiled. “It looks nice from what I've seen. A bit smaller than the St. Vitus, isn't it?” “I think so. You've got what, a 42? Mine's a Pearson 36. Number 27 of 49, if what I read last year is true.” She smiled, a hint of color showing on her tanned cheeks. “Sorry, but I'm a bit proud of her. Did most of the restoration myself. She had some issues around the mast and I redid some of the interior.” “Sounds like you know your boats.” “I know what I like. Had to learn most of it along the way.” She giggled, a throaty sound that made Sonny smile. “Not the best way to do it, or the cheapest.” There was so much he wanted to ask but knew he shouldn't, so he took another drink of beer and looked out over the water. She seemed happy with the break in conversation, so he just enjoyed the freshing breeze coming in from far-off Cuba or maybe just the Keys. “It gets in your head, doesn't it? I know it did mine.” “What does?” “The breeze. You had that look on your face.” She smiled. “I've seen it a hundred times on my own when I look in the mirror. You start wondering where that breeze was before it found its way here. Who it touched. What secret's it's keeping. How many lies and truths it snatched up on its way here.” “You sure you're not a poet?” “Me? No. Played guitar a bit, but most students do I suppose. Then school got in the way of life, so it went its way and I went mine.” She drained her beer and opened the last one on her side of the carrier. Then she smiled and slipped off her shirt. “Sorry. It's getting a bit warm.” The bikini top was a dark blue and only just covered her high breasts. They talked a bit more, and Sonny got the sense she was waiting on him to finish his last beer. Her bottle had been empty for about five minutes, and she kept looking down at it while she was talking about fishing off the coast of Lauderdale before coming south. Finally she sighed. “You're a tough one, aren't you?” “Been accused of it.” He smiled. “But I'm also being rude. I let you run out of beer. You want me to grab some of mine?” “No. I've got another six-pack chilled down the dock.” She stood up and stretched, letting him get a long look at her slender legs and firm backside just hidden by a pair of cut-offs. “Come on. I've seen your place, now let me show you mine.” Conscious of the Detonics on his ankle, Sonny got to his feet and followed her. “Ladies first,” he said, smiling when she looked back. When they reached her boat, she jumped on deck and leaned against the mast, arching her back and raising her arms above her head. He whistled. “Very impressive.” “Which? Me or the boat?” “Both.” He ran his fingers through his hair as a defense against the breeze and looked at the boat's stern. “Vellamo?” “She's the Finnish goddess of the seas. My parents always told me the family came from Finland, so when I took to the water it seemed like a good match.” She giggled and ducked below. “Let me grab that beer.” Sonny looked around, climbing up the short gangway to the boat's rear seating area. It was, he had to admit, a damned fine boat. About six feet shorter, and optimized for single-handed sailing, but it didn't look to lack anything in comfort. The sails were furled and the lines coiled like a professional had been through, and he made a note not to underestimate Jenny's skill on the water. He was admiring the polish work on the wheel when her voice floated up from below. “Can you give me a hand down here? The damned icebox door's stuck.” “Be right there.” Sonny went down the short flight of stairs and stopped, fighting to keep himself from staring like some slack-jawed fool. Jenny stood in the main cabin, wearing nothing but a smile and her sun-bleached hair. “Ok,” she said, giggling and turning to allow him to see every tanned inch of her toned body, “I lied a bit. The icebox is fine, but I do need a hand down here. Two of them. Yours. On me.” It was so sudden he didn't have time to think, only to react. She was in his arms the second he reached the cabin floor, eager lips meeting his. He could feel her firm body against him, the need almost a physical thing he could touch. Her hair was softer than it looked, and she gasped as he ran his fingers though it. Then she was tugging at his shirt, fumbling with the waistband of his linen slacks. Grabbing his hand, she led him through the narrow doorway into the foreward berth and pulled him down on her. The first time shocked Sonny with its raw passion, and the second time was almost gentle. Her need was the same, but calmer now, like the sea after a storm passes. Where she had been aggressive and demanding, the second time she was more seeking and giving, letting his passion lead her. Finally still, she settled in beside him in the awkward v-berth and rested her head in the crook of his arm. “Welcome aboard, neighbor,” she whispered, kissing his neck and ear. “You don't waste time, do you?” he asked, running his finger along her chin until she moved her head and licked it. “No. I guess I don't. But you never get what you want if you don't try.” She kissed his finger, then shifted and kissed him again. “And I've wanted you since the first time I saw you.” I really have to have Lester run this girl.But Sonny forced himself to smile. “Didn't think I made that big of an impression.” “I just knew.” She sighed and lowered her head back to his shoulder. “Sorry. I know that freaks some guys out.” “No, Jenny. It's not that. I just figured someone as pretty as you would already be with someone. That and I can be a bit slow. What do you expect from someone who has an alligator for a first mate?” She giggled. “Now you're being silly. No, it's just me on the good ship Vellamo.” He nodded, his nose filled with the smell of her. It was a mix of some subtle perfume, sex, and the sea. A hell of a potent mix. “And I'm glad for that, darlin'.” Something twinged in his heart. He wasn't exaggerating, and it bothered him. It was well past midnight before Sonny Crockett made his way back to his own boat. Jenny had finally let him go after he promised to have her down for dinner. He was sure she'd seen the gun, and was surprised she hadn't said a word about it. “It's just me, Elvis,” he announced as he came aboard, hearing an answering snuffle somewhere in the darkness of the bow. “Sorry I didn't bring you any snacks. Let's see if there's still a tuna in the locker.” Soon the night air was filled with crunching as Elvis wolfed down his delayed evening meal. Down in the main saloon, Sonny poured himself a drink and sat at the table, trying to sort out what had just happened. And whyit had happened. Was Jenny working for someone, and if so was she hunting him or Sonny Burnett? Or was this just one of those things? He had to admit he liked her, both for her stunning looks and her ability to look after her boat and herself with equal skill. But there were too many questions unanswered, and she was too close for him to ignore. Sighing, he finished his drink and reached for the phone. When the machine picked up, he spoke quickly. “Stan or Lester” - he almost said 'Larry' before he caught himself - “I need you to run a name. Jenny Walker. Maybe mid-30s. Claims to have lived up around Lauderdale, but I don't know where she was before that. Thanks, guys.” Hanging up, he shut off the lights and sat in the darkness for a time until the bourbon calmed his nerves enough to allow sleep to come. Only a few miles but seemingly a world away. Trudy Joplin looked out over the water and sighed. The breeze carried across the deck, and inside she could hear Martin Castillo making them a late meal. They'd moved the last of her things in not long before, and he suggested she take in the night air while he cooked. “You'll find peace out there,” he said in that mystical way of his that never failed to tug at her heart. “I'll call when the food is ready.” At first it felt strange, leaving the apartment she'd hidden in for years after shifting from Patrol to Vice. Trudy smiled at the word choice, casting it to the breeze with other parts of her past. “I washiding,” she whispered. From memories, from danger, from just about everything. And then he'dcome along. She still remembered the first time she'd seen Martin Castillo. The whole squad was in shock about losing Lou and he'd walked in like something out of an old movie. Tall, dark, not saying a word. He and Crockett had clashed right away, but that was inevitable with Sonny. Trudy smiled again. What was it Gina used to say? Crockett couldn't see anyone in authority without wanting to kick them at least once. Soon enough, though, Trudy discovered Castillo actually cared about his people. She unbuttoned her shirt, letting the breeze dry the sweat on her skin. Even with the moving she still couldn't quite believe this was happening. Or even how it was happening. So few words had done so much, and she'd gone from being alone to trusting a man with her heart in a way she'd never done before. And he'd amazed her with his capacity for caring. After all he'd been through, it made her heart jump to know he had enough left to love her. At first she thought it was the breeze teasing her hair, but then she felt his strong fingers and knew it was Marty. How the hell does he do that? I never even heard the door open. She sighed and leaned back against him, feeling his arms go around her. “I had to come out,” he explained, his hands sliding into her open shirt. “You look so lovely.” “Thank you.” Every nerve in her body jumped at his touch. “I must've gotten carried away watching the waves.” “No. I wanted to share them with you. Dinner is ready whenever we are.” His mustache tickled her neck, and she sensed he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words. “I'm glad the move is over. I just hope my stuff isn't taking up too much room.” “No. It fills a hole. Both in the house and in me. Things feel complete now, not half-empty.” “I couldn't agree more. I don't feel like I'm hiding anymore. Not from anyone, even myself.” “Good. You were always stronger than you knew.” “And I'm stronger with you.” She let the shirt fall to the deck. “Let's go inside.” The buzz of his phone woke Sonny Crockett some time after the sun rose above the water. Shaking his head, he reached out and fumbled for the cordless receiver. “Yeah?” “Sonny? It's Lester. I got your message and ran that name.” “What time is it?” “After ten I think.” Lester chuckled. “We got in early and I had time to run the search. Anyhow, her full name's Jennifer Yvette Walker. Thirty four. No active warrants, though she had some run-ins in Lauderdale and a few other places up the coast. Petty theft. One or two citations for disturbing the peace. She's only been in Florida a couple of years. The national check is still running.” “Where's she from?” “California.” Lester laughed, and his voice faded as he turned away from the phone. “See, I told you Stan. The search took under half an hour. This new system kicks ass.” The he came back. “Sorry, Sonny. The search just finished.” “Tell Stan he owes you a doughnut.” Sonny chuckled in spite of himself. “So what's it say?” “She's got a handful of drug arrests in San Francisco and then down around LA. Mostly reefer, but one for LSD when she was at UCLA it looks like. Then she pops up in South Carolina with a possession of stolen property charge that got knocked down when she testified against some guy named Rafe Holloman. He tracks as a mid-level dealer type and all-around scumbag. Looks like her testimony sent him away for a dime bid, and his friends didn't like it much. That's when she moved south to Florida and our system started tracking her.” “So she's a small-time crook?” “Yeah, but I don't get it, Sonny. Her family's loaded.” “What do you mean loaded?” “I mean loaded. Her father's some bank guy out in San Francisco. He could probably buy the entire Metro-Dade police department out of his petty cash drawer.” “Thanks, Lester. I owe you guys one.” Sonny collapsed the antenna and shut off the receiver, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. What the hell is some rich girl doing slumming around on a boat she fixed up herself? And why is she interested in me? Or is it Burnett she's into?It was hard not to think of Callie, or more recently Rico's little number. Mikko. Or was Jenny just another rich girl with an 'I-can-do-if-myself' attitude and bad boy fixation? A thump and dragging chain noises on the overhead reminded him of something. “I'll be right there, Elvis. Keep your shirt on and don't eat anyone until I get there.” Pulling on yesterday's slacks, Sonny climbed up into the building morning heat, the sun warm on his shirtless shoulders. He went through the familiar motions of tossing Elvis his breakfast before turning and looking back up the dock. Vellamo's spot was empty. “I wonder where the hell she goes?” he muttered as he headed back belowdecks for a shower and coffee. “Another damned mystery I don't have time for.” It was almost six that evening when Gina Calabrese turned her car into her parking spot at the apartment complex and shut off the motor. She smiled when she saw the Bug Van parked in its usual spot. That meant Stan was actually home before her. She found him out on the apartment's small balcony, fussing over steaks on a small grill. “Dinner should be ready in about ten,” he announced after kissing her hello. The yellow apron he wore over one of his outrageous Hawaiian shirts was decorated with some sort of cartoon frog and proclaimed 'mother's little helper' in bright orange letters. “I've got potatoes in the coals and there's salad in the fridge ready to be tossed.” “I'll toss your salad, you big goofball!” She giggled and hugged him. “It's good to have you home early for a change.” “Yeah.” He smiled. “The lieutenant wants to see if Lester's ready to cover a shift solo. I told him he is, so Castillo sent me home.” He turned back to the meat on the grill. “Can't let these burn. I'm not wasting ten dollars' worth of prime Kansas City strip.” Setting her bag on the glass-topped coffee table, Gina headed into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine before turning and looking back at Stan bustling around on the balcony. She smiled, wondering for the hundredth time how she'd gotten so lucky. All those years I spent chasing Sonny, and there he was right under my noseshe thought, feeling the sharp tang of the wine on her tongue. She hauled out the wooden salad bowl so he wouldn't notice her thinking and got to work, the activity simulating her thoughts. Stan, much to her surprise and delight, was a giving man. Both as a lover and a friend. He'd listened to her complain about Crockett without saying a word, and only later did she understand how deeply he knew loss and how much some of her words had hurt him. Yet each time he'd just listen and tell her things would work out eventually. “You're too good a person, Gina,” was one of his favorite lines. “You can't fix everyone, especially if they don't want to be fixed.” She hadn't understood until after Costa Morada. When Crockett and Tubbs left, the squad started falling apart. And in the middle of it all was Stan, solid as a rock wearing an Elvis wig. He'd held her the night he found her crying in the old conference room, even though he knew she was crying over the man he held responsible for the death of his partner and best friend. He never judged, never told her she was being foolish. Just waited for her to stop sobbing and then said softly, “If you want to talk, I'm here.” They'd talked, and talked some more. He helped her understand she needed to get away from OCB, and supported her when she decided to make the jump. She'd felt guilty for abandoning him and Trudy, but he always told her not to worry. “You need to look after yourself,” he said with the sad smile she'd grown so accustomed to after they found Larry dead in the locker room shower. Smiling, she added croutons to the salad and finally drizzled vinegar and oil dressing over the top. It was a recipe she'd gotten from her aunt, as Italian as her adopted last name. She'd seen a little bit of herself in Stan then. He was so busy running around trying to keep the team together he'd forgotten about himself. He worked a few busts with Trudy, and she'd confided to Gina that she was worried about Stan. “I don't think he's gambling again,” she'd said, “but I'm worried he might start again. He's so stressed, and the lieutenant's counting on him so much. I just don't know what to do.” In some ways that had been their first date. She'd lured him out with the promise of bowling, something she hated but knew he enjoyed for the beer if nothing else. Stan being Stan he let her win the first few frames, even giving her some pointers on form and technique so she'd get better. They were sitting in the lounge, partway through their third pitcher of beer, when it hit her that she was falling in love with Stan. She'd kissed him for the first time that night as he was dropping her off at her old apartment. Another smile found its way to her face as she remembered his shocked expression. One week later they had their second date and he'd worked up enough nerve to kiss her first. After that it had been a dream. Right around the time the Task Force formed they'd moved in together, taking advantage of Stan's new place to bring their lives into some combination. She still hadn't heard from Trudy, but the pain of that receded more every day. Besides, from what Stan was telling her Trudy was busy enough in her own life. “Who would have thought?' Gina whispered as she put the finishing touches on the salad. “The man of ice and the tough street girl getting together?” “Dinner is served!” Stan lumbered through the open balcony door with a flourish, a big serving platter held above his head. “We have for the lady the finest Kansas City beef, baked potato, and grilled asparagus.” She giggled. “Stanley Switek you are an amazing man.” He set the platter down and bowed, his tousled hair flopping with the exaggerated movement. “Thank you, fair lady. Now if you'll bring the salad we can dine. I think even the King himself would be jealous of this repast.” He shook his head. “Oh, and could you bring me a beer, fair one? I forgot about that in all the excitement.” “Of course.” She smiled. His sense of humor was one of the things she loved most about him. In some ways it felt like he'd taught her to laugh again. And she'd lost track of the times he'd told her the same thing. “This is fantastic!” She set her fork down and raised her glass in a half-toast. “Who knew you could grill?” “What self-respecting man can't?” Stan chuckled. “Well, this one couldn't for years if I'm honest. You have no idea how many cows were offered up to the charcoal gods before this repast was possible. Innocent cows, chickens, and fish all sacrificed themselves without protest. Now the people I tried to feed with them protested, but what the hell. It was worth it in the end.” He grinned. “At least I like to think so. Anyhow, enough about me. How was your day?” They talked a bit about the advocate unit and how she was expanding the role of the assigned detectives. “Part of getting these girls off the streets is making sure the scumbags who put them there aren't around to keep them there,” she said, gesturing with her salad fork. “If we can start feeding intel over to OCB and Metro-Dade they can use that to bust those bastards.” “Great idea, babe.” Stan took a drink of his beer. “But be careful. We've been getting reports of some kind of leak in Metro-Dade. Nothing solid, but it's from multiple sources.” “Damn. I don't want to put any of those girls in more danger than they're already in. Thanks for letting me know.” “Sure.” He smiled. “And in related news, well...sort of related I guess...work on the street has it that Trudy moved in with Castillo.” “No!” Gina dropped her fork, not noticing the clatter it made when it hit her plate. “You're serious?” “Yep. They haven't said anything, but Lester and I noticed they've started showing up at the same time and leaving at the same time. Every day. That never happened before.” Stan chuckled. “I thought about putting a tail on them, but you know Castillo would spot that in a second and cut my balls off. And I do need my balls these days.” She smiled, feeling her cheeks warm as they turned red. “You most certainly do, Stanley. But that might explain why she hasn't called.” And why her old number's disconnected. Now I feel like an ass for thinking she was just trying to avoid me. “Yeah. That can be distracting.” He cut more steak and chewed the bite with appreciation. “I know it was for me at least.” She reached out and covered his free hand with hers. “It was for me, too. But it was the best distraction I've ever had.” She gave his hand a squeeze. I never thought things would be this good.

“Good to see Robbie's still an intense cat.” Tubbs looked out the Ferrari window as the club's neon receded into the distance. “Yeah. Some things never change, and he's one of 'em.” Sonny gripped the wheel tight, trying not to hear the crack-bark of AK-47s replaying in his mind. “Full throttle all the time. His son's gonna be a handful.” “You think he'll really let us wire the place?” “Part of it at least.” Sonny cut around two Oldsmobiles and shot through a gap in traffic, the Ferrari's engine whining. “He's a man of his word, too.” “And if I drop the name as someplace I heard of either Pedrosa or Moncado are bound to go for it. Especially Pedrosa since he's got history there. They don't think Cooper knows much about Miami.” “Speaking of Pedrosa, the little pissant just paged me.” Sonny grinned, taking a hand off the wheel to toss the pager to Tubbs. “We can't pull the phone trick in the car, but I'll get you back to the office damned quick.” The engine screamed again as he downshifted and slipped the Ferrari through two more gaps in traffic. “Just as long as it's not by way of the emergency room I'm cool.” Tubbs' knuckles went white on the passenger door arm rest. Sonny looked over and laughed, feeling a familiar warmth spread through his stomach. “Sounds like a challenge, partner. Let's have some fun!” He hit the accelerator, and the Ferrari surged forward like a rocket. Stan met them at the office suite door, a smile plastered across his face. “Sonny, I think you gave at least ten old folks heart failure on your way back here. The scanner lit up like a damned Christmas tree about five minutes ago. At least one of 'em called you in as a UFO. The best one I heard had you as some kind of” - Stan let his voice crack and waver - “Rooskie secret fighter jet rippin' low an' takin' pictures of our girls in their unmentionables.” He slapped Crockett on the shoulder, still laughing. “Even the lieutenant chuckled over that one.” Sonny felt his good feeling chill. “Is he...” “Pissed? No. I think he's still chuckling about it with Lester.” Stan turned back to the conference room door. “But he does want to hear how it went with Robbie Cann.” “While he's telling you, get the phone ready.” Tubbs cracked his knuckles. “I got an important call to make to one Carlos Pedrosa. He sent the magic page.” Castillo sat at the table, trying to make a smile vanish when Crockett walked in. “How did it go?” “Good, lieutenant. Robbie's out of the game, but he still hears things now and then. Some of the players still come by his place and Pedrosa's one of them, so that's a plus for us. He also said we could use his club as a meeting place, and wire a couple of booths to boot. It's neutral ground so far as Pedrosa and Moncado are concerned. Robbie's got no links to Burnett, and Maynard's never heard of him. So long as Tubbs makes the recommendation I think they'll go for it.” “Good. When you know for sure have Lester set it up.” Castillo looked over at Tubbs waiting to make his call. “And you might want to ride with your partner for the next day or two. I hear Metro-Dade's looking for a white UFO that might be a Russian fighter jet.” Sonny nodded, feeling his ears heat as they turned red. “We wanted to get back to call Pedrosa as quick as we could.” Castillo nodded, but continued watching Tubbs dial the number. Sonny had to admit he admired his partner's composure. He sat like he didn't have a care in the world, and when Pedrosa answered he struck fast. “I've got one of Miami's finest bikini contest winners waiting on me. What do you have?” He listened, shaking his head. “Of course the money's ready. Wire transfers just like last time. My people prefer that as well. Less likely to be ripped off.” Then his eyes changed. “Tomorrow night? That's the best you can do? Fine. We'll do business tomorrow night. Yeah, I've got pencil. I can even write.” Tubbs scribbled notes on one of the pads on the table. “Got it. Burnett will be there with a boat and crew. Your people load, and I'll do some random tests to make sure the purity's solid.” He winked at Crockett. “Trust? I'll trust you after a few more good deals. And even then my people live by trust but verify. Remember Reno? Someone in your supply chain might have cheated you. We both need to be careful.” He listened for a few seconds more and hung up. Sonny looked at Stan, who nodded. “We can always review the tape later, but it sounds good.” Castillo looked at Tubbs' notes. “We've got a cabin cruiser. Standard fishing boat, expect it can hide up to five hundred kilos of undeclared cargo. Given our limited manpower it will look more natural than a fishing boat.” Sonny nodded. “Good thinking. I assume we'll go a ways up the coast and hand off to an unmarked Coast Guard or DEA boat?” “You'll get the details. But we want you out of sight long enough to make it look like you shifted the cargo to people in Tubbs' organization.” Castillo looked at his own notes. “The boat should be at your dock now, Sonny.” Trudy came out of her office carrying a notepad. “You'll want to hear this, too, lieutenant. Moncado's starting to sniff around about Rico's network. How much it can handle and its reach mostly. It's fully backstopped, but I thought you should know.” “Thank you. Any movement on Burnett?” “Nothing out of the ordinary.” She smiled at Sonny. “Since you, I mean he, wiped out the entire Manolo organization pretty much single-handedly people don't ask too many questions about Sonny Burnett.” Sonny nodded, feeling the familiar churn in his stomach. He was never sure if he should be disgusted by what Burnett did or proud of how he shut down a major player and his organization. Even on those late nights when he tried to sort it out himself he couldn't come up with an answer. And if he was being honest with himself he didn't know if he wanted to. “Keep tracking both. I want updates if Maynard or Moncado start getting close to something we haven't covered.” “Yes, sir.” Trudy smiled, and Sonny saw something in her eyes intended only for Castillo. It reminded him of looks Caitlin used to give him, and he looked down at Tubbs' notes and forced himself to gather his thoughts and shove the other feelings back into a dark corner of his heart. They'd come out later. He was sure of that. But looking at the notes also brought the address into focus. “I know that dock. Manolo used it sometimes. There's a couple of smallish warehouses close by that could easily hold the amount of coke Pedrosa's selling us. Good entry and exit from the water, too. But Manolo liked it because it's also a fantastic ambush site. Those warehouses are on higher ground, so they look down at the water. And unless someone's done urban renewal in the last year and a half or so there's a lot of junk down by the dock. Old cranes, forklifts. Good cover. And he wants meet at ten. Before moonrise.” Castillo looked up. “We need to be sure. Trudy, take Stan and look the place over tomorrow.” She smiled. “You got it. We'll take my car. I think the Bug Van would look out of place in an abandoned junkyard.” Stan rose to his baby's defense. “The Bug Van looks good anywhere! And boat yards have rats. They need exterminating, too, you know.” “Take Detective Joplin's car.” Castillo's voice booked no disagreement. “You'll find keys in your office, Trudy. It's something a little more suited to your new cover.” “New cover?” “Revised cover.” Castillo's eyes glittered but his face didn't change. “You're now a lady of means instead of a lady of the evening. You'll find the car down in the garage. It's red.” Sonny grinned. “About time you got out of that Toyota! You want to take a look now? I need to go look this cabin cruiser over and I expect Tubbs will want to make sure his Guccis don't get wet tomorrow night.” “Very funny. Not all of us like wearing bathroom slippers or whatever the hell those things are on your feet.” Rico waved Trudy through the door ahead of him. “Ladies first.” The light in the garage was dim, almost an artificial twilight calculated to keep patrons from seeing scratches in their cars until it was too late to complain about them. Stepping off the elevator, the three detectives looked around, and Trudy's squeal almost made Crockett jump. “Damn it, Trudy! What the hell?” “Look! She pointed and then ran to the car, her agility in high heels amazing Sonny as always. Tubbs let his breath out in a low hiss. “Damn!” Sonny just nodded. Even though he had the Ferrari, he'd grown up helping his father work on cars. Actually if he was honest his help consisted of fetching more beers and sometimes tools, but he'd never gotten over the tug to his heart he got when he saw a nice car. And this was a nicecar. He scratched his head, wondering which dealer had managed to stash a '71 Dodge Challenger R/T with a 440 V8 in his garage. The twin air scoops in the hood were a dead give-away. “Hey! Are you sure you can...” Whatever Tubbs was about to say was lost in the deep bass roar of the V8 as Trudy started the car. “How is this a lady of means?” Crockett shouted the question over the engine's thumping, boosted back to a roar from time to time as Trudy hit the gas. “Guess it means she means business!” Tubbs grinned wide. “And here I thought he'd get her some little red car. Man, the Caddy's jealous!” The garage went quiet as Trudy shut the car off. “I...I can't believe it! You know, my brother always wanted one of these. He had an old Mustang, but he really wanted one of these.” “What happened?” Sonny regretted the question as soon as it slipped out of his mouth. “Sorry, Trudy. It's not my business.” “It's ok, Sonny. He was murdered when I was ten. We never found out why or who did it. The police back then...” “I know. They didn't work too hard to solve those cases.” Sonny felt something give in his heart and tried to chase the subject away. “Still...I wonder which doper had this car in a shed somewhere?” “One who didn't know what the hell he had.” Tubbs walked around the car, almost huffing the stray whiffs of rich exhaust near the chromed tailpipes. “This is a beast on four wheels.” “I should go thank the lieutenant. Was there anything you needed me to work on before tomorrow's deal?” Sonny almost suggested how she thank Castillo, but stopped himself. This isn't something I can joke about. Not yet. Maybe not ever.“No, I don't think so, Trudy. Just keep getting what you can on Moncado. He's the next rung in the ladder, and I'd bet the Company knows waymore about him than they're admitting. DEA might have something from his Columbia days.” He laughed and raised his hands. “And now I'm tryin' to tell you how to do your job. You're the expert, darlin', and I'm happy for anything you can find.” They were on their way to the marina before Rico finally let out a loud laugh. “Don't deny it, partner. I saw your face. You were thinking the same thing I was when she said she wanted to thank the lieutenant.” Sonny laughed along. “Yeah, I probably was. But I'm not saying it. Castillo might have the garage bugged.” “Or the car. Stan's getting reallygood at this stuff, you know.” “Yeah, and he does owe me a few.” Sonny went quiet for a time, turning things over in his head. “You ever think we're just window dressing, Rico? Clowns sent out to dance and distract the bad guys while the real skilled people do their work.” “Sometimes. Yeah, I guess I do.” Rico looked out the window at the passing cars, and Sonny could see him tapping his fingers on the glass. “Or maybe we're just two drunks at the bowling alley. They set up the pins, we knock 'em down, and poof! The pins are back again.” “Yeah, but you're the negotiator. They need you to draw the dealers out. Sucker 'em in with your New York or Islands act.” “But that's why we're partners, partner. I may lure 'em out, but you keep the goat from being eaten. These cats smell money when they see me, but they're scared of you. I remember that from when I was playing Marcus. Man, it was a hell of a feeling, too. Playing 'Cooper man of mirrors' is fun, but there's times when you just want to stand there and make someone piss their pants because you're lookin' at them and they don't know what you might do.” “Yeah.” Crockett turned the Ferrari into its parking space and shut off the engine. “Let's go see what kind of rig the lieutenant found for us.” “I just hope it's not named the Minnow. We'll never get Izzy away from it.” The boat bobbed alongside the dock, tied fore and aft. Going up the short gangplank, Sonny gave the boat a once-over, checking the engine and below-deck areas closely. “Nice,” he muttered, sticking his head through the door to the rear fishing deck. “It looks like the smuggling compartments are under the floor up toward the bow, with more in the aft berth. Means we can balance the load so she doesn't look strange.” Tubbs shook his head. “So what is this rowboat?” “1989 Carver 36 foot cabin cruiser. Nowhere near as fast as the Cigarette, but she'll carry what we need with room to spare. And wouldn't draw a second look from the Coast Guard.” Sonny came back on deck, his face still lit by a smile. “Plenty of room for you, me, and the two marshals with space for some girls. I hope Castillo lets us hang onto this baby for a bit.” “Speak for yourself. Ensign Tubbs ain't ready for sea duty just yet.” “Come on, Rico. We find the right batch of bikinis you'd hit the surf in no time flat.” “You know me too well, partner.” Rico grinned as he gingerly stepped on board. “Not bad. Not bad at all. I might even go out in this thing more than once.” “Pedrosa's men will have to go through the main saloon to load the coke up front, so we'll have to stock her like we're really heading up the coast. Looks like whatever agency had this before us got a head start, but we'll set out some booze and other party favors so we look the part when they come on board. Maybe we can get Dave and Randy out here early so they can pick their spots and get a feel for things before we head for the meet.” “You sure you were a Marine? You really seem into this boat stuff.” “They stuck us on boats from time to time, Rico. And I grew up near the water. Kind of hard to avoid getting some salt in the ol' veins.” Sonny let the grin die as memories competed for space in his head. “Yeah, hard to avoid,” he repeated, looking out over the waves. Turning, he forced himself to smile. “I think we're done for now. I'll do some stocking here and then reach out to Dave and let him know the plan. I can call from the car. You want me to drop you back at Casa Cooper?” “Sure. You get bored, swing by when you're done working. We can go troll the club on the ground floor. I hear the scenery is spectacular.” “I might just do that,” Crockett grinned, knowing full well he was going to head back to his boat and sit with Elvis. Smoke a few cigarettes and maybe drink some Black Jack. He knew his moods, and this was a night he needed to be by himself. It was almost noon before Crockett swung the white Ferrari alongside the curb and waited for Tubbs to emerge from his building. The boat was stocked, Dave and Randy were meeting them at five to go over the plan, and things looked good. At least that's what he kept telling himself as he waited for his partner to come down. It hadn't been a good night. The dreams had come on hard, chased away for a time with shots of Jack Daniel's, but that only worked for so long. Sonny rubbed his eyes and slipped his sunglasses back on. Between Caitlin, Robbie, and David he'd managed precious little sleep. Larry Zito had even stopped by, shaking his head in his sad Zito way before disappearing into the fog of the dream again. Ricardo Tubbs climbed into the Testarosa, his suit rumpled and his eyes bloodshot. He didn't speak, just pointed to the street. “Looks like you had a hell of a night, too, partner. Any good stories?” “No. Just bad dreams.” “Same thing I had. Your bother again?” “Him, Angelina, and Rico Junior.” Tubbs sighed and rested his head against the window. “Does it ever get better?” “I'll let you know when I figure that out.” Crockett eased the car into traffic, heading for Task Force headquarters. He filled Tubbs in on the plan with Dave and Randy. “I figure we'll check in and see if there's any new intel or modifications to the plan. We also need to know who's taking the load once we get up the coast. Then we can head out and get things settled on the boat.” Tubbs nodded without speaking. They rode in companionable silence for a time and then he asked, “How do you think this will go?” “I think good. You've got Pedrosa guessing, and I'd say he's afraid of Burnett and his two friends.” Sonny chuckled. “He might try something, but I seriously doubt it. Moncado and Maynard need the money if our intel's correct, and if Pedrosa screwed that up he'd be signing his own death warrant.” “And from what Trudy found about Moncado I don't think his death would be either painless or quick.” Rico slipped on his sunglasses. “So that's in our favor at least.” “Firepower won't be a worry. Dave said they're bringing some of the shorty M-16s. The CAR-15. They'll have them topside just in case anything goes south.” In the conference room Martin Castillo sat in silence while Sonny recounted the plan again. “We'll leave the marina in time to make the meet,” he said as he finished, looking at everyone seated around the table. “I've got an hour or so built in there so we can get our marshals used to water if they need it. And Tubbs, too, for that matter. All we need now are radio frequencies in case we need the cavalry and the location of out meeting up the coast.” Castillo nodded. “It's a good plan. There's always risk in this work, but you've accounted for most of it. Trudy, did you and Stan notice anything during your reconnaissance?” Stan shook his head. “Only that Trudy is hell on wheels with that car, lieutenant. I never knew she could drive like that.” Trudy smiled. “One of my many, less-appreciated talents.” Then her voice changed. “We did a drive-by and then some long range work with binoculars. Sonny's right about that dock. You could hide fifty men in there with room to spare. Lots of junk, hulks, and empty buildings, and that's during the day.” “We didn't see any activity, and there were no transmissions on the scanner. I swept every frequency I could.” Stan raised his hand. “Little Carlos could slip some guys in now, obviously. But as of an hour ago there was no sign of anyone having been there recently except for maybe a watchman.” “Good work. I'll have you make another pass about an hour before the meeting. Don't get too close, but try to see if there's any activity. If there is, raise Crockett on marine band and let him know.” Sonny nodded. “Just send 'the tank's empty' if there's someone there. It won't draw any attention, but we'll know what you mean.” Stan grinned. “You got it, Sonny. Maybe this time Trudy will get some of those Mustangs to drag.” “Stan! You said you wouldn't mention that!” Trudy slapped Stan on the upper bicep. “Sorry, but I still crack up every time I think of that punk kid with the candy apple red 5.0 who turned off in an ally when you revved the engine at him.” “It's not my fault we intimidated him.” She snorted. “Punk kid had the nerve to chirp his tires at me. Them's fighting words on the street.” Rico grinned. “Lieutenant, I think you created a monster.” Castillo shook his head and then smiled. Sonny's jaw almost hit the floor. “Maybe so. But I don't mind so long as that reconnaissance is done on time. Report back here when you're finished. Switek, is Lester still covering the taps?” “That's an affirmative, lieutenant. He's been monitoring calls all day. Little Carlos is mustering the troops and moving weight across town. Seems he's had some trouble with one truck, though.” “Stay on it. If anything changes let Crockett and Tubbs know. They should be on the boat so use marine band.” Castillo looked across the table. “And Trudy spoke to me about your question, Tubbs. The Marshals have someone they can send down from one of their New York offices if we need a New York connection. He's got undercover experience and is originally from Brooklyn.” “Solid. Thanks, lieutenant. Anything else?” “No. Everyone stay alert. This is our way to Moncado.” The setting sun turned the Caribbean a yellow-pink as it sank behind the western horizon. Sonny stood on the upper deck of the cabin cruiser, reflecting that whoever had named the boat Little Loushould be flogged and hung from the nearest yardarm. Below he could hear Dave and Randy settling in, metallic clicks and clatters echoing up as they checked and loaded their assault rifles. Tubbs was down there, too, nursing what was left of a cup of coffee and a Cuban sandwich. They'd gone over the plan until he was satisfied everyone on board knew their part, and more importantly what to do if things went wrong. The two deputies continued to impress, laying out ready reaction drills for just about every contingency Crockett created. Tubbs sat back, announcing his plan was to “duck until the noise stopped and then shoot anyone left.” Now it was a matter of waiting. Laying out his coastal chart, Sonny plotted a course to the dock and then back up the coast to the coordinates Castillo had given him for the rendezvous with whoever was impounding their coke. He still didn't know which alphabet agency was involved, and found he didn't really care. Once it was gone it was someone else's problem, and it got him one step closer to Maynard. “Good old Captain Real Estate,” he muttered, putting down the dividers and running through last-minute checks. One step closer to settling some old accounts. “You about ready to weigh anchor or whatever the hell it is you do with these things?” Randy stuck his head through the companionway, his dark hair stark against the light hull. “Just about. See if you can pry Tubbs off the couch and have him show you how to cast off the lines. Once the engines turn over this baby's ready to go.” Soon Tubbs appeared on deck, grumbling about how he wasn't some sailor to be ordered around. Still, he showed Dave the basics and soon the lines were coiled and out of the way. Waving his hand, Sonny reached down and hit the starter, bringing the 7.1 liter Merc engine booming to life. He eased the boat away from the dock, turning the wheel to take them out a bit before swinging back toward land and their destination. The water was calm, and only a hint of breeze swirled across the deck. It did nothing to break the heat of the day, but Sonny expected it to cool some once the sun finally went down. The banter from below floated up, barely audible over the sound of the engine and the ocean's own rhythmic chatter. For a moment Sonny considered joining them, but decided to let Tubbs and the two marshals have some quality time. It was more a matter of them finding some more common ground. As a former Marine he already had that with Dave and Randy. It was important they find that with Tubbs so the trust would be there. If they were going up against Maynard they'd need every edge they could get. Checking the compass, Sonny shifted course slightly and turned on the navigation lights. It wasn't quite dark enough yet to need them, but he wanted to play the responsible boat captain this time out. With the Cigarette it was usually about speed and surprise. With this vessel it was about blending in and attracting no attention. Same game, different ruleshe reminded himself as he eased the throttle forward a hair to generate more speed. He'd have to more consistent with this one, too. You couldn't make up lost time in it like you could the Cigarette. Eventually Tubbs came up from below. “You gettin' lonely up here or did we get boarded by a boat full of Penthouse Pets and you just forgot to call us?” “Naw, Rico. Just driving is all.” Sonny kept one hand steady on the wheel and reached in his dark blazer for a pack of Lucky Strikes. “It's a nice night for it. Smooth as glass and not much wind.” “Yeah. I was just talkin' with our two marshals. I know I said it before, but those are two cool cats. Got some serious stories up their sleeves. I never knew marshals did so much.” “Yeah. Marty picked the right agency when he paired us up with them.” Sonny smiled in the growing darkness, his teeth flashing white in the light from the instrument cluster. “Hell of a change, though.” “Anything on the radio?” “No. All quiet. I'm guessing it all passed the Stan test and we're not sailing into an ambush.” “Yeah, or Trudy got involved in some street race and they never made it.” “You never know.” Sonny let smoke hiss through his nostrils and checked his watch. “I'd better throttle up a bit if we're going to make it there on time. Don't want to be late for our own party.” Dark shadows loomed up from the low coastline as Sonny eased the cabin cruiser around another bend. He could see the skeletons of cranes and low boxes of boat sheds and a small warehouse or two, darker blots against a blue-gray background. Leaning over, he spoke through the gangway. “Almost showtime, gents. Who's got the night glasses?” “Me.” Dave appeared almost at once, big binoculars gripped his hand. While Sonny steered he scanned the coast and shadows of the abandoned yard. “Got activity by the warehouse. Lights and a truck. Looks to be three Caddys or Lincolns there, too.” He increased the zoom. “I count at least eight people moving around by the vehicles or the building. Maybe half are armed that I can see.” Tubbs looked at Sonny and raised his eyebrows to show he was impressed. “Any sign of Pedrosa?” “Affirmative. He's easy to pick out. Short and wearing more jewelry than a hundred dollar hooker. He's about two yards east of the Caddy.” Dave chuckled. “Waving his arms like a second lieutenant who just lost his map.” “It's almost time.” Tubbs slapped Crockett on the shoulder. “Take her in, captain!” Coming around a bend in the waterway, Sonny eased up on the throttle some more, taking his time lining up between the two existing docks. Someone on the one to the left waved a flashlight, so he adjusted his course and let the boat drift into position. “Randy, stick with Rico,” he muttered over the thump of the engine. “Dave, you're with me.” “Roger that.” Randy came through the gangway and took up a position next to Tubbs. Rico nodded, signifying he was ready, then shouted toward shore. “You got any lights for this fun house, Carlos?” As if in answer the headlights on the Lincoln and Cadillac flicked on, bathing the dock and boat in a yellow glow. It also silhouetted the men on shore, and Sonny saw Dave hadn't missed a thing. One man stood on the dock with a flashlight and line ready to tie the boat in, while another six or seven shadows remained a bit upslope near the cars. A voice he recognized as Pedrosa's echoed down. “Make fast and we'll talk.” Minutes later Sonny, Tubbs, and Randy stood in a fan of light thrown by the Cadillac's headlights. Sonny had unbuttoned his dark blazer and stood with his hand near his big 4506 as Tubbs and Pedrosa argued back and forth. Rico pulled out a bulky satellite phone. “I've got the bank codes ready to go. And the test kits. I hit four bags at random, one for each hundred keys.” He gestured toward the truck. “Loading them in fifty kilo lined coffee sacks was smart, but my people still want their quality checks. Burnett's man on the boat will show your people where to load.” Pedrosa shook his head. “How do I know the transfer will go through?” “Call your damned bank! They went last time, didn't they?” Tubbs raised the phone. “I'll send the first half through now. You can check and make sure it went through.” “My phone's in the car.” Pedrosa turned back toward the big Caddy. “Let's go.” “My guy's going with you.” Sonny nodded to Randy, who fell in line behind them. His big .45 was visible in a hip rig, and his hand was never far from the butt. “Cooper here might trust you, but I don't trust anyone until the deal's done.” One of the men near the car shifted, and Pedrosa raised his hand. “Tranquilo! Burnett is just doing what I would do. Come, Mr. Cooper. We'll make our calls and you can check the first two of your bags.” Sonny shifted back out of the cone thrown by the headlights, opening the eye he'd kept closed to preserve some night vision. They'd seen eight men, presumably all the manpower Pedrosa could muster, but he wanted to be sure. Surprises in the dark were the worst kind. Down by the boat he saw Dave move into position, hand openly on his .45 as two of Pedrosa's men walked cocaine-loaded coffee sacks though the boat to the fore compartment. So far the two marshals lined up perfectly with the image he'd cultivated for Burnett. The one I lived for Burnetthe reminded himself as the two men came back down the dock empty-handed to collect their next load. Packed the way it was, it wouldn't take long to load and they could be on their way. This was the part of a deal Sonny hated the most; you were always pinned like a butterfly to a board until the dope was loaded and the money had changed hands. If anyone was going to hit you, this was the time. Pedrosa stepped out of the car, a satisfied expression on his face. “Load the rest!” he shouted. Tubbs moved down to the base of the dock, Randy trailing along keeping a close watch on Pedrosa's men. Pulling out test kits, Rico stopped the two men and checked a bag by cutting a small hole in the top and puncturing one of the smaller kilo bags inside. The next bag he checked from the bottom, and the final two in the sides, trying to get as much coverage as possible. Each time he examined the tube in the yellow glow of the headlights and smiled. “Average of 92% pure. Looks like we're good to go, Carlos.” “A pleasure, Mr. Cooper. How soon will you need more product?” “Very. But I'd also like to meet your boss next time. Or soon after. I think we need to work out some longer-term arrangements. My people can sell as much as you can deliver, but there are schedules to work out.” Pedrosa frowned. “I do all the deals in Miami.” “Of course. But there's someone above you, yes? That's someone I should meet.” “I'll let you know.” Turning, Pedrosa made a circle above his head with his right hand. “Vamanos!” he shouted before looking back at Tubbs. “I'll let you know, Cooper.” “Don't take too long.” Turning on his heel, Rico looked at Sonny. “Let's get this coffee up the coast, Mr. Burnett.” “You got it.” Sonny turned back to Pedrosa and fixed him with a cold stare. “Don't forget to tell your boss we can handle twice this weight easily. See if you can find that anywhere else in Miami, pal.” Back on the boat, Dave grinned as he cast off the single line holding them in place. “That went well.” Randy nodded. “You can say that again. And that's a damn scrubby crew Pedrosa's got. Barely worth the ammo it will take to drop 'em all.” “He's low in the food chain.” Sonny threw the screw into reverse and backed away from the dock. “The closer we get to Maynard the better the guns will be.” “So what's next?” “We run the cargo up the coast and make a call on the frequency the lieutenant gave us. Someone shows up to take the coffee off our hands, and we head home.” Sonny smiled. “All in a day's work, gents. Welcome to vice in Miami!”

“No!” Sonny Crockett was still in the grip of the dream when his eyes snapped open, his body soaked in sweat and trapped by the tangled sheets in the forward berth of the St Vitus Dance. His breath came in ragged gasps, and for three heartbeats he didn't know where he was. Then it all came back to him. Both wherehe was and whenhe was. Sitting up, he scrubbed at his face with his hands. Trying to shake it off. The dream started the same way: him standing on the side of the stage with Caitlin singing, feet nailed to the floor when Hackman's bullet tore through his wife's chest. But this time instead of stopping there the dream went on. The thump of Huey rotors filled his ears. Smells of burning shit and fermenting fish sauce filled his nose. And all of Vietnam came flooding back in one sick instant. Mostly, though, it was the firefight when Robbie got hit. They'd been attached to a line company from the First Battalion, Fifth Marines, helping the grunts sweep and clear some ville northwest of Da Nang. In theory it was a simple operation, but no one had noticed an NVA company slipping into the AO and digging in on the ville's outskirts. After months of VC and boobytraps, no one expected to find NVA this close to the coast. In his dream Sonny saw the whole thing replaying in slow motion. The crack-bark of AKs opening up on the point element of the company. Green tracers drifting past like lost, deadly fireflies as rounds starting hitting the main column. Marines scrambling for cover or being thrown to the dust as rounds hit them. In his dream he saw that dust puffing from torn and faded jungle fatigues as AK rounds tore through men he knew. Training took over, and he scrambled for cover in one of the shallow ditches lining the road. He could hear shouted commands over the firing, and the lighter pop-pop-pop of M-16s as the Marines started returning fire. “Robbie!” In the dream Sonny didn't recognize his own voice right away. Where the hell is he? He was with the command element which was...oh my God...right in the kill zone.Sticking his head over the embankment, Crockett could just see three crumpled forms in jungle fatigues in the middle of the road. One wasn't moving, but the other two were. He recognized the torn helmet cover of the lieutenant and the clean flack jacket of Robbie. Off in the distance voices were screaming for the corpsman, and the deep bellow of Gunny Thompkins trying to gain control of the fight. Again in the dream he didn't know his own voice. “Cover me! I'm going for the LT and Robbie!” Before he knew what was happening he'd sprinted into the kill zone, his M-16 forgotten in the ditch. He knew the Corps mantra about never leaving your rifle, but he also knew he couldn't handle a wounded man with the weapon and made his choice. The big .45 in its leather holster slapped against his hip as he sprinted, reminding him he wasn't totally unarmed if things got close. Robbie had been hit low, just at the bottom of his flack jacket. A quick look showed the lieutenant was in better shape, grazed badly in the leg and more stunned than wounded. Shouting, “I'll be back for you, sir!” Sonny crouched down and hefted Robbie in an awkward fireman's carry and stumbled for the ditch. Rounds tore into the ground around him, and he could hear them whining past like angry bees. He almost tripped when he reached the ditch, but managed to set Robbie down near a blood-covered corpsman without doing any more damage. This time he took his M-16, emptying a magazine on full-auto toward the treeline before grabbing the dazed LT and heading back to the ditch. The third man, a friend of his from the line company named David Conner who'd run out first to get the lieutenant, was already dead; his throat torn out by an AK round. More rounds ripped through the air as Sonny looked at the corpsman. In the dream he shook his head. Sorry, nothing he could do. That's when he screamed. Faint yellow moonlight streamed through the ports as Sonny sat, not moving, waiting for his breathing to slow and heartbeat to stabilize. It had been years since that dream had visited him, shoved aside maybe by Caitlin's frequent nighttime visits. Finally he pushed himself off the bed and went to the head to wash his face and towel off the sweat. He looked at his face in the small mirror, seeing dark circles under his eyes and lines he'd not noticed in the daylight. “Fuck.” Turning, he grabbed a pack of Lucky Strikes off the saloon table and clambered topside. The breeze was cool, and he lit a cigarette and drew the smoke into his lungs. He let the smoke hiss out his nose, feeling the dream slipping away as the breeze dried the remaining sweat on his back and in his hair. “It's just me, boy,” he muttered, hearing Elvis stir somewhere on the bow. Now that the gator was getting older he liked spending his nights topside, dreaming whatever gator dreams occupied his mind. Maybe the dream was telling him it was past time to reach out to Robbie again. Sonny sighed, looking past the glowing tip of his cigarette at the dancing stars overhead. Somehow he'd always avoided it, made excuse after excuse, just like he had when he came back to Miami and married Caroline. Maybe it was also telling him he couldn't lock Vietnam away in some box and never look at it again. Lord knows he'd tried, even going so far as refusing to identify himself as a vet any time an investigation took him to a veterans' center or group home. “Hell, look at Dave and Randy.” He wasn't sure if he was talking to Elvis or himself, but having the gator there provided a good excuse if anyone wandered by. “They own where they were. Robbie always did, too. Me? Maybe it's time I did, too. Maybe it's past damned time. Caitlin was never afraid to own where she'd been or who she was. I was always the one doing the hiding.” Taking a final drag on the cigarette he snubbed it out before heading back to bed. Sleep came easy this time, and passed without any visitors. Trudy was waiting for Crockett and Tubbs when they stopped by the task force office the next morning. “We heard back from Metro-Dade about that girl and the big guy,” she said as soon as they'd helped themselves to coffee. “Took them long enough.” Sonny snorted as he sat down in one of the chairs around the big table. Funny. I don't think I've ever spent more than ten seconds in the outer office.“Any of it worth our time?” “Could be.” Trudy looked down at her notes, and Crockett noticed she was wearing a deep blue dress he'd never seen before. There was a decidedly Oriental cut about it, highlighting her figure to spectacular advantage. “They both have records. Her mostly for theft and him for assault. Your buddy the bouncer was right; they work as a team and do favor the newer clubs down where you met them.” Tubbs shook his head. “And let me guess. She likes to steal from rich-looking classy men from out of town.” Trudy giggled. “You got that right. And she likes targeting Black men. She's got ten arrest reports, and in eight of them the complainant was Black.” “So they're a random rip-off team? No real method other than 'hit the Black guy who looks rich'?” “It looks that way, Sonny. At least as far as Metro-Dade can tell.” She smiled. “But we all know Robbery isn't where the hotshot detectives go.” “I'll be watchin' for them just the same.” Tubbs leaned back in his chair. “Especially that Mikko. She was reallyworth watchin' out for.” “Go easy, Romeo. Maybe we need to take you to one of those church picnics where you can meet a nice girl.” “Mikko wasnice, Sonny. Nice on the eyes, nice on the...” Sony raised his hands. “Ok! Ok! No church picnics.” He looked back to Trudy. “Any word from our favorite peddler of imitation luxury goods?” She smiled. “Izzy's set up in one of those hotels down by the Deco district. Stan's keeping tabs on him, and so far he's generated nothing more than a spike in old guys wearing what they think are Gucci shoes personally signed by Richard Gere.” “So business as usual for Moreno.” Tubbs got up and helped himself to more coffee. “He's been out of the loop for a month or so. I don't like the little weasel any more than you do, Rico, but it takes time to get back into the swing of the street. But if he's still jerking us around in a couple days, have Stan lean on him.” “You got it.” Trudy looked over at the closed office door and lowered her voice. “I know he wouldn't approve, but I have to tell you, Sonny. I've never been happier in my life.” “It shows, darlin'. It really does.” Sonny's smile was genuine. “I'm happy for both of you. You've always deserved better than you got, and he's the finest man I've ever known.” Tubbs sat back down and smiled. “I second that. You look happy, Trudy. I don't think I've ever seen you looking so happy. Grab hold of that and don't let go.” He looked over at Sonny and favored his partner with a lopsided grin. “Take it from the two guys who keep losing things like that.” “I didn't...” “Don't worry, Trudy. We don't take it that way.” Sonny spoke quickly. “It's just...we know what it's like to lose things like that. We're both really happy for you, but don't take what you have for granted. That's all we're saying.” She nodded, her eyes glittering in reflected fluorescent light. “Believe me, I won't.” She sniffed once, collecting herself, and smiled. Tubbs looked at Crockett. “You know, I'm thinking of calling that chump right now. See if we can move this deal along a bit faster. Maybe shake him up a bit.” Sonny nodded, his brain working through the possibilities. “He's seen us moving slow so far. Be interesting to see what he does when New York starts wanting product yesterday. Keep him off balance.” “I'll let the lieutenant know.” Trudy turned and headed for the closed office door. “He'll need to line up the buy money and get the tracking in place.” “I won't call Pedrosa until we have that timeline.” Tubbs adjusted his dark suit coat and settled into his chair. “The deal will move on the money timeline.” Once Trudy went into Castillo's office, Tubbs turned to Sonny. “You look beat, partner. Go clubbing without me?” “Naw, Rico.” He shook his head. “Visitors is all.” “Dreams? I get those myself. Usually it's Raphael or Angelina.” “Mine were Caitlin. Before that things from Nam. Last night it was both.” He sighed. “If we can make time today I'd like to swing past Robbie's club.” “You got it, man.” Tubbs tapped him on the shoulder. “Providing Little Carlos is accommodating.” Trudy stepped back into the room. “He's working on five hundred grand. Same bank as before. He wants some padding in case the price goes up.” “Smart man, but I think I can talk Little Carlos down. He's got his jewels in a vice, and the men holding the controls aren't afraid to tighten them.” Sonny reached for the phone. “I'll give Dave and Randy a heads-up, too. We'll want them with us when this goes down. And have Stan keep checking Carlos' communications. We need to know if he's freed up any more guns.” “You got it.” Trudy favored them with one of her playful smiles. “He and Lester are out playing in the Bug Van, even though Stan calls it checking equipment. I think he's just showing off his toys. But I'll let them know when they come back.” “Thanks.” Sonny made the call to Dave, conveying the plan in short words. “We'll let you know when it's going down,” he finished. “It's ok if you can't provide support, but we'd love to have you along if you can.” “Anything good?” “They're good to go,” Sonny replied as he hung up. “Only variable might be a tasking from the Marshal's Office, but he doesn't think that's likely. Seems we're their priority.” “That's a hell of a change.” Tubbs chuckled. “I remember when we had to beg for uniform backup.” “We'll see how deep it goes once we start doing serious damage to Maynard's network. Right now we're only netting small fry.” Sonny looked toward Castillo's office door. “Once we start circling Moncado we'll see just how far the Feds are willing to go. Because after Moncado it's a straight line to Maynard.” “What happens then? Maynard knows you, Sonny. He's seen me, but he knowsyou.” “I know. But Burnett and Cooper are strictly drugs. We don't have a good way in to his arms dealer. Holmes or whatever his name is. You'd have to dig out that cover we used back with Guzman or the South African we used with Klizer. I don't think anyone would buy Burnett as a neo-Nazi now, though.” “I can't see that working, either. Holmes seems to deal only with Maynard.” Tubbs flipped back through the file. “He does small deals here and there, mostly with bikers or gangs. But those are pistols and a MAC-10 or two. Not the kind of hardware that would attract us.” “I guess we'll just have to be careful, then.” Sonny looked down at the table top, knowing deep down he didn't want off the Moncado side of the investigation. Maynard's got lots of bodies to answer for. I haveto be in on it. Even if I have to use myself as bait.“Or maybe it's not a bad thing Maynard knows me. We might be able to use that to draw him out.” “What do you mean, partner?” “There's bad blood between us. He's not the kind of guy who sends someone else to settle those scores. Maynard would want to do it himself. Up close so he could be sure. I don't think there's any way he could resist that. Not if he's still the Maynard I knew.” “You've got a point. We're all over his comms, so we'll know if you've been made. Not saying I like it, but it's a way to bring him down.” “Maybe the only one we have.” “The money's approved, Rico. The lieutenant says make the call when you're ready.” Trudy turned toward her office, her long legs accented by the blue dress and her high heels. “Solid. I'm gonna rattle that chump's chain.” Tubbs stared at the phone. “Switek said use this button, right?” “How the hell do I know, Rico? I only just figured out the phones with dials.” Sonny grinned. “Yeah, I think it's that one. You use the brown one to get street noise to play behind the conversation to sound like a pay phone. I think he had Lester start that one first.” Ten minutes later Tubbs slammed down the phone. “I think he pissed his pants, but here's where we sit. He wants to get all the coke in one place first so we can load and go. He's got four hundred on hand, and it's going by water. He'll page when it's ready to move.” Sonny nodded. “I'll let the lieutenant know we'll need a fishing boat of some kind rigged for smuggling. The cigarette can't handle that much. I'll get some specs together to make it look right for the job, though. I could break it into three boats, but that would take too long to load.” “Solid. From the way he was muttering I'd say we have a day in hand while he consolidates his supply.” Tubbs leaned back. “You think it's worth chasing how he brings the stuff in?” “Not yet. Let's see how quickly they replace this load.” Sonny tapped his fingers on the table. “If they can keep that much coming in, it almost has to be cargo ships of some kind. Or a combination of sea and air. If he's smart he'd diversify.” He shook his head. “He's not smart. If Moncado's smart he'd diversify.” “And we can keep the pressure on. No question.” “No doubt. And the more he moves, the more the pressure increases on him. He has to run more risks to get the stuff in, and he's sure to get careless.” Sonny scratched his chin, thinking. “The question is how do we draw Moncado out? Can we even get him in the US?” “According to my intel he's in the country quite a bit.” Trudy flipped through some notes. “He's got a condo in one of those new high-rises and a house out on the Keys. For a death squad guy he moves pretty freely.” “Thank Maynard for that. So at least getting him in the country is one less thing we have to worry about. It's just a question of timing.” “Cooper would want to see the big guy after this deal.” Tubbs looked down and adjusted his tie. “The one after this at the latest. It's all about business. I expect he'll want to meet another of the New York people, so we might want to get ahead on that.” Trudy nodded, scribbling something on her pad. “I'll bring it up. The Marshal's Service might have someone. I don't think we want anyone local.” “No. He might have seen them. They also have to sound like they're from New York.” Tubbs grinned. “That's a scarce commodity in that office.” “We can't reach out to Metro-Dade.” Sonny remembered the comment the snipers had made. “Too big a chance something will leak.” “What do you mean leak?” Trudy's brow furrowed. “Dave and Randy said they'd heard talk at the Marshal's office about a leak in Metro-Dade. Not OCB, but the wider department.” Sonny shrugged. “Rico and I have been out of the game long enough we wouldn't know one way or the other, but I don't think they have any reason to lie.” “They don't.” Castillo's whisper cut through everything else in the room. “I've been told the same thing by contacts in other agencies. We keep them out of the loop. Go only to OCB, and then only when you have to.” “That explains why my request for information on Mikko and Jimmy was buried with ten other names.” Trudy smiled. “I just assumed you had more information you wanted checked, lieutenant.” “Since you're here, lieutenant, we'll need a fishing boat of some kind to do this next deal. A cabin cruiser or maybe a shrimp boat. Something clean that won't draw a second glance but can handle and hide four hundred kilos.” Sonny chuckled. “Little Carlos wants to move all his stuff at once.” “When?” Tubbs spoke up. “He's moving it to one location first. He'll call when it's ready.” “I'll make the arrangements. I assume you've already arranged backup? Good. We need to keep the pressure on Pedrosa so we can draw out Moncado.” Sonny nodded, then looked at his watch. “I've got something I need to take care of. I'll check in later today.” “Hang on, partner. I'll ride shotgun.” Tubbs looked over at Castillo. “Did you need us for anything else, lieutenant?” “Not right now. Trudy can call if anything comes up.” Castillo looked from Crockett to Tubbs. “Be careful. Maynard's network knows you're playing now. Maybe as Cooper and Burnett, but we've monitored traffic showing he's looking into them. You're fully backstopped, but be cautious just the same.” They had just pulled out of the parking garage and into the bright heat of the day when Tubbs laughed. “I wonder when Castillo was going to warn us about the Metro-Dade leak.” “You know the answer to that one: whenever the hell he got around to it.” Sonny laughed, accelerating through a yellow light. “He wouldn't keep something like that from us, though.” “No.” But there was a hesitation in Tubbs' voice revealing his doubts. “Come on, Tubbs. You think after all these years he'd hold out on us?” “Not really. But you gotta admit this is different, Sonny.” Tubbs hesitated and then laid his cards on the table. “I was thinking about this the other night. You know how he always used to hold us back? Tell us not to take risks, follow procedure, all that?” He snapped his fingers. “Bam! That's all gone now. It's like anything goes so long as we get the target.” He shook his head. “It just takes some getting' used to is all I'm saying.” “I hear you.” Sonny swerved around a city bus, ignoring a string of horns honking behind him. “I wonder if he went to someone or someone came to him. One of those late-night meetings in a dark office building you always see on TV. But you can't deny it's working.” “Yeah. I just don't want to be the sucker in the room with no chair when the music stops.” “Neither do I. But I can't see Marty doing that to us.” But the thought did send a shiver down Sonny's spine, one he tried to ignore as he pushed his sunglasses up on his nose. “So I'm just going to see Robbie. After that, who the hell knows.” “Fine by me, partner. I bought a ticket for the whole damned ride.” It was still early, but judging from the number of cars in the lot Robbie's club was going strong. Sonny finally found a spot out toward the street, and Rico climbed out of the Ferrari and whistled. “Damn. Looks like he's onto something. That or giving out free drinks.” “Robbie's too smart to give things away. I'd say he's got a good touch. He always was a smart guy.” “Not too smart if he hung out with you.” Sonny shot Rico a glare and then laughed. “You might be on to something, Tubbs. After all, look at how much time youspend around me.” “Yeah, yeah.” Tubbs laughed and grabbed Sonny's arm. “Let's get in there and see what all the fuss is about.” The place had been jumping the first time Sonny and Rico stopped by, and it looked like nothing had really changed in the intervening years. The guy on the door was still massive, cars still lined the street, and overdressed people milled around outside waiting to get in. A quick flash of the badge got them past the door and inside. Tables still filled the space in front of the bar, and looking left Sonny could see an opening leading to a dance floor and stage. More private booths were toward the back, floating in and out of vision obscured by cigarette smoke and bodies. Sonny made his way past the crowd just inside the door and motioned for the bartender. “I need to see Robbie Cann.” “Everyone says that, pal.” The skinny man spun his toothpick in his mouth and was about to turn away when Sonny's voice changed. “Maybe so. But I ain't just everyone. You tell him Sonny's here to see him. Now.” He leaned partway across the bar. “So pick up the damned house phone and make the call.” Eyes wide, the man turned and snatched up a white receiver next to the cash register. The music was too loud for Sonny to hear what was said, but he enjoyed watching the man's facial expressions shift from annoyed to scared and then resigned. Hanging up the phone, he turned back to the bar. “Head on back. Security's expecting you.” “See? That wasn't so hard, was it?” Sonny turned and headed down the dark corridor he'd last walked down years earlier to try to save a woman and her baby. The walls were still that odd shade of purple, and a big man with an earpiece gave him and Tubbs a quick once-over before opening the door marked 'private.' The office hadn't changed, even if the occupant had. The Night Ranger and Guffria posters still hung on the purple walls accented with what were supposed to be pieces of paper. Or something. Sonny was never sure what they were supposed to be. Robbie Cann sat behind his desk, rising when they came in. His face had filled out some since Sonny had last seen his old friend, but the goatee was still there along with the burning intensity in his eyes. His voice was still as quick as his thoughts. “Sonny! And Tubbs, isn't it?” “Robbie.” Sonny avoided the outstretched hand and hugged Robbie instead. “How's the shoulder?” “Great, Sonny! Just great.” “Look, man. I'm sorry. I've been a terrible friend. And a crappy god-father. I...” “Sonny. It's ok.” Robbie stepped back a moment and Sonny could see the sadness in his eyes. “It was a lot to process. For both of us. I could have called, and I didn't. You could have called, but didn't. I do read the papers, though. I'm...I'm sorry about your wife. I don't know how the hell you got through that. I kick myself every day for not reaching out then.” “It's ok, Robbie. I should have invited you to the wedding. Like you said, we had a lot to process.” Robbie nodded, then seemed to see Tubbs for the first time. “Please, guys. Sit. We'll have a drink. I'm guessing this isn't just a social call.” Tubbs shook his head. “I'm just riding along with my partner, Robbie. I am glad to see your club's doing good, though. You finally out from under that paper?” Robbie nodded. “In more ways than one. They make noise from time to time, which is why I have those big guys hanging around. But I did the right thing, Sonny. And you know, you were right. It does feel good to be able to look at my wife and son every day knowing I did that.” They talked for a bit about Robbie's son and how the club was doing, Sonny feeling the Jack Daniel's warm his throat and doing more listening than talking. Rico seemed happy listening, tossing in a comment now and again just to remind them he was in the room. Finally Robbie's voice wound down like an old wristwatch. “I'm clean now, Sonny. We get some party animals in here from time to time, but I'm out of that life for good. Testifying saw to that.” “At least the DA was fair.” “Yeah. Nothing on the record to mess with my licenses.” Sonny accepted another drink and decided to just lay his cards out. “Robbie, I've got a huge favor to ask. We're working a case, and we need someplace neutral to meet the guy we're after. We need to get him on tape, and I was wondering if we could wire one of your back booths? None of the tape will ever hit court. You have my word.” Robbie looked at him for a long moment and then finished his scotch. “I should have known.” “Look, man. You don't feel good about it, no problem. I understand. That's not why I came.” Sonny took a deep breath. “I came because you're my buddy and I was an asshole and ducked you when you needed me.” He looked down at the floor. “You know, we're working with two guys now who were scout-snipers in the Third Marine Division just north of where we were. They're both so damned open about where they were and what they did.” He waved his empty glass toward the card still displayed on Robbie's desk. “You never hid it, either. Never hid Vietnam. Me? I've been ducking it for years. I've had cases take me to vet centers, and I always say I'm a cop. Never tell them I was there, too, unless I don't have a choice. I'm here because I let being a cop get in the way of us being Marines and surviving Nam. I don't ever want to do that again.” Robbie stared across the desk. “I never knew that. And you were the one telling me we did the right thing.” “Yeah. We did. But I did the wrong thing by trying to hide it.” Sonny shook his head. “I'm done with that now. Life's too short.” He closed his eyes, seeing Caitlin's face float by for an instant. “Life's too damned short,” he repeated. Robbie nodded, then turned to Rico. “What do you think, Rico?” “It isn't my place to think about this one. I got no skin in the game.” Rico rested his hand on the desk. “But I do know Sonny didn't come here to try to wire your club. Neither did I. I came because my friend wanted to try to set things right with an old friend he'd done wrong by.” Robbie nodded but didn't speak. Instead he refilled their glasses and looked at a framed photo on his desk. “I still have that picture of us when we first processed into Da Nang,” he said after a time. “Never put it away. Even after all this.” “I've got the same one in my locker. Or I did, until we gave up our lockers. It's in the boat now were I can see it every day.” Next to a photo of Caitlinhe thought, feeling the bourbon on his tongue without realizing he'd raised his glass. “I could never take it down.” “I've missed you, buddy.” Sonny nodded. “I've missed you, too. And I promise this won't happen again.” They shook hands and then hugged again, laughing when Rico drained his scotch and said, “You two need to get a room already.” “No, just more drinks for my friends.” Robbie did the honors and then looked at the two men. “And yeah, I'll let you wire one of my booths. Who's the guy you're after?” “A cat named Pedrosa,” Tubbs said, nodding his thanks. “Carlos Pedrosa? Guy who only pays his bar tab when one of my big guys swings by the table. He's in here from time to time. Always got a bad smell off that one.” “You got a good nose.” Sonny grinned. “Must be our old MP training. Carlos is dirty enough.” “And you say it won't make it to court?” “No. This new detail we're on is more interested in results than court cases. We'd use the wire to gather intel. And we'll pull it again as soon as we're done. But if you're not cool with it, forget I asked. No harm, no foul.” “Have your guy come by during the day. Call ahead and there won't be any issues.” Robbie grinned, his eyes lighting up again. “Now let's have another drink and do some serious celebrating! I got my old buddy back and made a new friend in the bargain.”

Riding the elevator back to the tenth floor, Sonny Crockett felt good. A solid meal rested comfortably in his belly, his pistols were loaded and ready to go, and he trusted everyone he was working with tonight.Don't get any better than this in my worldhe thought as the elevator hissed to a stop on the tenth floor. Hope Rico didn't tangled up with some girl with a sob story and made it back on time. The suite was busy yet calm, the mark of a team that knew its business and was comfortable with every part of that business. Stan and Lester looked to be hard at work in the Tech Room, the door propped open to let equipment heat out and capture any leftover cool from the conference room. Trudy sat at the long table, her hair slightly mussed as she worked on notes from what looked to be a set of CIA files. He could see a shadow in the back office where Castillo was at work on something not ready for the whole team. And perched on a chair in all his Armani glory was Tubbs. “About time you showed your pale face, partner! That pretty Italian car break down on the way here?” “No, Tubbs. Your girl called and said you weren't doing right by her so I had to pay a quick house call.” Sonny grinned and pulled up his own chair. “How's it look?” Trudy looked up from her notes. “You should be good to go. Pedrosa's got no love when it comes to pulling in more guns, at least not tonight.” “And if he shows up with those same monkeys our deputy marshal friends should make short work of them if Pedrosa tries anything.” Tubbs chuckled. “I don't think he will. Not for thirty grand.” Sonny flipped through the phone transcript again, imagining he could hear Maynard's raspy voice each time he read the man's lines. “Not enough in it for him yet. And he needs to make room for more of Peru's finest.” “Be aware that is the cocaine's point of origin.” Castillo came out of the shadows, as usual with no warning. “DEA confirmed we're looking at Peruvian-sourced cocaine. And in an unusually large quantity. We'll know more about the actual quality after tonight's meet.” “Yeah. You know, I don't think Pedrosa was cutting the stuff.” Tubbs leaned back in his chair. “I think that was Reno doing his own thing. Little Carlos was genuinely pissed when I told him the purity.” “And that's likely why Moncado's pissed. He might think Pedrosa was involved in the rip-off.” Trudy looked up. “Rip-off?” “Sure.” Crockett looked up from the transcript. He'd imagined enough of Maynard's voice for one lifetime. “Reno gets ten keys from Pedrosa and cuts it into fifteen. He keeps the cash from the extra five when he kicks back up the chain. It doesn't help his reputation for quality, but Reno clearly didn't care about that. When he's making sixty grand extra off a ten key shipment he cuts, why would he?” “It makes sense. I'm just surprised Pedrosa didn't track his stuff better.” “He was over-promoted.” Castillo's voice was flat, like he was reading the weather forecast. “He was never meant to be more than a street hustler. When Moncado moved up he had to use the tools he had.” “But if Moncado's got this history, why was he working the streets?” Stan poked his head out of the Tech Room to ask the question. “Because Maynard is thorough. He wanted his point man in Miami to understand the market before he started supplying it.” Castillo rubbed his temples with his thumb and index finger. “I don't think he expected Moncado to over-estimate it like he did.” “He didn't take time to learn the players.” Sonny shook his head. “Most of them don't. You've got guys here who work with the same supplier for months. Maybe years. They know each other. They're not gonna jump to some fresh face until he proves himself or can offer them a major deal. My guess is Moncado couldn't do either, so he brought up Pedrosa to fill the gap.” “Yeah, and that chump recruited Reno for the same reason. Maynard's impatient, and that gave us our window of opportunity.” Tubbs smiled. “Or I should say Burnett and Cooper's opportunity.” A knock at the door brought an end to the conversation. Sonny reached inside his dark sport coat and nodded to Tubbs, who stood and went to check the outer door. He came back leading Dave and Randy. “We got company. And they brought party favors.” Dave chuckled. “More like a big bag o' cash.” He looked over to Castillo. “Here you go, lieutenant. Boss said I had to give it to you.” “Thank you.” Castillo took the back, scribbling his signature on the receipt with a pen he produced from his suit jacket. “Glad you both could make it. This is the rest of the Task Force. You've already met Crockett and Tubbs. That's Trudy Joplin, Stan Switek, and Lester Franz.” Dave nodded. “I'm Dave Blair and this here's Randy O'Connor. Deputy U.S. Marshals. Good to meet you all at once. I know I've talked to Detective Joplin and I think Detective Switek before.” “It's Trudy. Please.” “Just call me Stan. And don't call me late for dinner.” Switek chuckled at his own bad joke. “Lester and I handle the tech wizardry, but I do get out of the office from time to time.” Castillo turned to Sonny. “Detective Crockett, you want to brief the deputies on the plan for tonight? I need to make a couple of calls.” Sonny nodded. “We're meeting that Pedrosa punk again for a test of the product and exchange of good faith money. That's what you had in the case. Tubbs goes in as Cooper, the buyer from New York City. I'm Burnett, local player and transport guy. I think you two would work well as some of Burnett's men. We've already established Burnett as a bit of a loose cannon and Cooper's local muscle. What do you favor for sidearms?” “We both pack .45s. Mine's Detonics, and Randy favors a custom Colt.” Dave grinned. “Old habits die hard.” Sonny nodded. “That they do. I carry a Smith & Wesson myself, but that's because Metro-Dade mandated decockers and safeties. Tubbs is a traditionalist.” “Good old .38 six shooter.” Tubbs grinned. “Got used to it on NYPD and never changed.” “Anyhow, we're supposed to meet him down by Slip 27 in the old boat yard at 2200. A couple minutes early wouldn't hurt. Our intel says he's going to show up with no more than four guns. He was trying to shake more loose but can't with such short notice.” Sonny rested his hands on the table. “Cooper, I mean Tubbs, usually takes the lead on these. He's the negotiator. I tend to loom in the background and look menacing.” He shrugged. “What can I say? It's a job. Seriously, though, on deals like this I don't get involved unless Tubbs needs an assist or someone to drive up the price. I complain about transport problems, he starts trying to cut the buy price per kilo.” Randy whistled. “Sounds like you two have done this before.” Tubbs grinned. “Once or twice, yeah.” “There's always a chance he might try to burn us. I doubt it, because his bosses need this deal in the worst way, but Carlos is also a coward. You never know what they'll do. So you two get to stick close to me and play concerned guards. If something goes down, we protect each other and the money. In that order.” “No arrests?” Dave raised his eyebrows. “No. The lieutenant was clear on that. We develop situations. If there's an arrest to be made, we call in someone else if at all possible.” “Good to know.” Randy smiled and looked at Dave. “My handcuffs are in the shop, anyhow. Last guy we grabbed broke the right one.” “Any questions?” Sonny looked around the table, locking eyes with everyone present. He was all business now; dialed into the Job with every ounce of his being. “Good. Tubbs will get the money and we roll out at 2130. That gives us about half an hour to check comms and do anything else that needs doing. Stan, let's make sure that wrist mic works. What's the scramble phrase for tonight?” “I didn't think it snowed in Miami.” Stan shrugged. “Don't look at me. I didn't come up with it. But I can pick up your signal at close to two miles and will roll backup as soon as I hear that. I'd say a good ETA would be ten minutes, give or take.” Dave narrowed his eyes. “This goes through Metro-Dade?” Stan shook his head. “OCB. We still know people there. It's secure.” “Good to know.” Dave looked at Sonny. “There's talk in the Marshal's office about a leak in Metro. No hard intel, but it's a rumor that won't go away.” Castillo came back into the room with the case. “We're totally compartmentalized from Metro aside from OCB. Metro doesn't know we exist, and OCB only knows it's a classified operation they have to cooperate with.” He handed the case to Tubbs. “You're ready to go, detective.” Tubbs accepted the case. “Solid.” Turning to Sonny and the two marshals, he grinned. “I'd say we take the Caddy. Unless you two want to ride in the trunk of a Ferrari.” Randy grinned right back. “I'll pass, thanks.” Dave shook his head. “Been there, done that. A case up in Lauderdale. It was the only way to get close to a target. Never again.” Sonny looked at his watch. “Last checks and let's roll.” The old boatyards always reminded Sonny of broken and dead dreams. Rusting skeletons of metal jutting up toward the sky framing neglected tramp steamers and other relics of a lost time. It was a great place for drug deals and secrets, but not so good for a man's piece of mind. Clouds scudding across a waning moon only heightened his unease. Dave, sitting in the back seat of the Caddy, put it into words. “This is like driving into a graveyard.” Randy nodded. “Like some of them old mines around Butte. Damn scaffolds standing over who knows how many bodies buried underground.” Tubbs sighed. “You three are a damned cheery bunch. Better get ready. We just passed Slip 25.” Sonny nodded, hearing the two men in back jacking rounds into their .45s with grim satisfaction. There was something calming about the metallic sound of slides pounding forward, stripping a round from the magazine and locking it in the chamber. He did the same with his 4506, leaving the safety on so the hammer would fall as the slide ran forward. The two men in back flicked on their thumb safeties and jammed the 'cocked and locked' pistols into waiting holsters. It was another of those rituals Sonny found comfort in no matter where he was. Or who he was. There were faint, ghostly memories of Burnett doing the same thing with a SIG lurking in the depths of his mind. “And here we are.” Tubbs switched off the headlights and let the big car coast into a spot near the head of Slip 27. A rust-streaked sign identified the spot, and the decrepit hulk of what once might have been a shrimp boat proclaimed its original purpose. Now it was just another meeting spot on the circuit of drug dealers instead of the launching point for dreams. As soon as the car stopped moving, Dave and Randy went over the sides and took up flanking positions with the smooth, sure movements of experts. Tubbs looked over at Sonny and mouthed “Damn!” before opening his door and stepping out. Sonny heard gravel crunching under his feet as he left the car, comfortable with weight of his pistols under his arm and on his right ankle. Familiar things to smooth out the unfamiliar that came with every buy. The quiet was broken only by creaking metal as an erratic breeze shifted broken chains and other bits scattered throughout the yard. He stood, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, and was about to move forward when Dave raised a hand. “Vehicle coming in. Maybe a Bronco from the engine.” Sonny turned to face the road, squinting to protect his vision from a sudden wash of headlights. From the corner of his eye he saw Dave and Randy flowing into position behind him, again moving almost as one. Then he felt Tubbs next to him, the briefcase in his left hand. “Let's do this,” Sonny said, feeling the familiar, slow, controlled rush of adrenalin building in his veins. Somehow Dave had been right. A dark brown Bronco rolled into view, the driver sweeping them with his headlights before turning them off and stopping. Sonny recognized the slight figure of Carlos Pedrosa exiting first, followed by three more men and the driver. The big rig's engine ticked as it cooled, filling the space before Pedrosa spoke. “Who's that with you?” “You brought friends last time. I figured I should have Burnett do the same.” Tubbs raised the case. “I brought my side. And the test kit.” Sonny could sense Pedrosa sizing up the situation. If there wasn't so much pressure from above, he was sure the little punk would have tried a rip job. But he couldn't risk it. Not with Moncado and Maynard waiting to feed him his balls. Finally Pedrosa nodded. “Got it right here.” He held up a dark gym bag. “We got you covered, boss.” Dave's voice had taken on a darker hue, and Sonny could feel the menace radiating from the man. “Any of those mutts gets squirrelly we'll nail 'em down for you.” “Good man.” Sonny smiled his thin, avoiding-the-eyes Burnett smile. “I'll keep an eye on things while you do the test Mr. Cooper. We don't want anything to go wrong, do we Carlos?” He knew it wasn't smart to poke the weasel, but Sonny couldn't help it. Tubbs nodded and stepped forward, pulling the vial from his Armani suit coat pocket along with a small knife. Pedrosa stepped forward with the bag, holding it open while he glared at Sonny and the two marshals. Sonny watched as Tubbs reached in the bag and came away with a line of white powder on the knife blade. Dumping it into the vial, he crushed it to combine chemicals and start the test. After some shaking, he looked at it and smiled. “Ninety percent.” “You doubted me?” “This isn't a business based on trust at first sight, Carlos. You know that. But this looks good.” Tubbs handed over the case, taking the gym bag in exchange. “I'll contact my people and tell them the first shipment was a misunderstanding. You'll hear from me tomorrow if they decide to go through with the deal.” “Why should I wait?” Pedrosa's lower lip shook with repressed anger. “Because this will be the first deal of many if it works out. You're not dealing with just Miami, Carlos. My people have New York City and a good part of the eastern seaboard as well.” Tubbs chuckled. “Hell, they can get as far west as Detroit if things work out.” He leaned closer, and Sonny could see Pedrosa flinch. “Tell me someone else down here with that kind of reach.” “He can't, can you Carlos?” Sonny let out a short, dry laugh. “Because there isn't anyone. I've been in the transport business for years, and this is the biggest deal I've seen. Hell, I dropped my local stuff cold for this.” “So tomorrow?” “Yes.” Tubbs zipped up the bag and tossed it in the Caddy. “You gentlemen have a nice evening now, hear?” No one said a word until Pedrosa and his men piled back into the Bronco and disappeared into the night. Then Dave let out a low laugh. “That sure as hell was a sight to behold.” Randy chuckled. “You said it. I ain't had this much fun without shooting someone in ages. You think he rents those guys of his from some casting company or were they just born stupid?” “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Or so my gandpappy said.” Sonny laughed along with the rest. He was feeling the downslope of the rush leaving his veins, but it felt different this time. It wasn't just him and Tubbs. And Randy and Dave were two of the coolest customers he'd ever met. “Let's go get a drink to celebrate. If they're watching they'd expect that.” Tubbs nodded, locking the bag in the Caddy's cavernous trunk. “Let's hit it, boys. Here's to a successful deal, with more to come.” Over a mile away, Stan Switek looked over at Lester and shut off the tape. “That's one down,” he said with a smile. “Everything worked according to plan, including the mic.” “You weren't sure it would?” “Not with these wireless jobs at that distance. All it takes is one kid messing with a CB radio and you're screwed.” “How did it go?” Lester glared at Stan. “Remind me to pack a second set of headphones next time. You hogged them all night.” “Yeah, yeah. It went good. They blew smoke up Little Carlos' ass and the coke tested over ninety percent. And Sonny didn't shoot anyone. So yeah, I'd say it went good.” Lester nodded. “Sonny didn't shoot anyone? I thought he always shot someone.” “Not every time. Feels like it sometimes.” Stan smiled, thinking of the talks he and Gina had about Sonny Crockett. Even before they got together. In some ways he felt sorry for Sonny. But only in some ways. “Yeah,” he repeated, hanging up his headphones and climbing into the driver's seat of the Bug Van, “it does feel like it sometimes.” Clouds slid across the moon, sending rays of dappled light scuttling across the beach. Martin Castillo picked up the phone on the first ring, listened, said “Thank you” in a low voice and hung up. Beside him Trudy looked up, naked aside from a light robe hanging open from her shoulders. “Was that them?” “Tubbs. It went according to plan.” “Good.” She touched his leg, and he felt her long fingers against his naked skin. “I was worried.” “You don't need to be. Not with those two and the two marshals. Blair and O'Connor are two of the best.” He didn't mention that he remembered them from Vietnam. Martin Castillo never forgot the very good. Or the very bad. Reaching down, he closed his hand over hers. “I love nights like this.” She sighed, leaning against him and letting the robe fall away. “They remind me of places far from here.” Lifting his arm, he slipped over her shoulders and drew her close, feeling the softness of her skin against his and the warmth of her body. “Places far from civilization. Deep jungles climbing up mountains. The moon would look like that. I remember one of the hill tribesmen, a shaman, telling me she was hiding her face from the evil in the world and letting the good men look upon her when they could.” “You must be one of the good men.” She shifted her head and kissed his neck. “Sometimes. One thing I learned in those jungles is that we all have the capacity for good and evil. Very few are truly one or the other. It's the choices we make that determine which we are.” He felt her nod, and then the only sound was the distant slapping of the waves. After a time she shifted. “I have to ask, Marty. What happens to us when this task force is over?” “Nothing. Unless you decide you'd rather be with someone else.” Castillo couldn't imagine being with anyone else now, but he also knew he wouldn't hold anything over Trudy's head. If she stayed, it needed to be because she wanted to, not because she thought she had to. “That will never happen.” She slipped her arm around him, and he could feel her need like a physical thing. “I can't imagine being with anyone else. I...I just hoped you felt the same way.” “I do.” There. You finally said it. The Father always said I was a romantic fool. Maybe he was right. But I don't care. Not now.“If you decide to leave, I would never try to keep you here. But know I won't leave.” She smiled, letting the robe fall to the deck in a soft puddle. “Neither will I,” she said, her voice almost lost in the breeze rustling the palm fronds surrounding the house. “Neither will I,” she repeated as they came together. This time it was Stan waiting up. He sat on the couch, half-watching Viva Las Vegasfor the hundredth time, listening for Gina's key to hit the lock. She'd been late a time or two before, but given her history he worried. Stan always worried. He'd worried about Larry when he was still alive, and now he worried about the only woman he'd ever really loved. After dropping Lester off he'd picked up a six-pack and headed back to the apartment, only to find it dark and empty. Putting his cooking plans aside, Stan had switched on the TV, found an Elvis marathon, and settled in to wait. He didn't start worrying until after his second beer and the clock ticked closer to midnight. By the third beer he had to force himself to stay sitting on the couch and focus on the antics of the King. The click of a key in the lock hit him like he'd touched a hot outlet, and beer sloshed from the mouth of the can as he jumped to his feet. As soon as the door opened and he saw her pale face framed by thick dark hair he started babbling. “Are you ok? Hell, of course you're ok. I'm sorry. I'm making an ass out of myself. I was worried, and I know I shouldn't be worried. I...” She quieted him with a kiss. “It's ok, Stan. Really. I love that you worried even when you didn't need to.” She tossed her bag on the couch and threw her arms around his neck. “It was that girlfriend of Manny's. Carmello. She got into a fight with her advocate and I had to calm both of them down and get the advocate out of lockup.” She smiled. “Remind me to never let a hot-blooded Italian work as an advocate for a hot-blooded Puerto Rican again.” Stan smiled, feeling the relief push the panic adrenalin out of his body. “Still...I'm sorry I freaked out like that. It's just...hell, I don't know.” Looking into her deep brown eyes he kissed her to shut himself up. “I get it, Stan. Really, I do. Some nights I'm a wreck when you don't get home before one. We've both lost people we cared about. That's one thing I've learned working with the advocates and those girls. You don't just push those things aside and get on with life. They change you.” “Yeah. And I'm glad you're home.” “So am I. There's no place I'd rather be than in your arms with the King singing to us.” She giggled. “Well...maybe not the King part.” She kissed him again before letting go and turning toward the kitchen. “How did tonight go?” “Good. We got Maynard on tape earlier today. That Lester is really turning into a pro. It's good to be working with someone like that again. Nothing against Trudy, but...” “I know. It's better to have a pal in the Bug Van.” “Someone who knows the equipment. Anyhow, we did that and Crockett and Tubbs met with their target again. Took two U.S. Marshals along, too.” He shook his head. “Those two deputies are intense. And I mean seriously intense. Not quite Castillo-grade, but damned close.” “Sounds like a good team.” Gina kept rummaging through the leftovers in the refrigerator, but Stan heard the longing in her voice. “You could come on if you wanted. You know that, right?” “Sure. And part of me wants to. But it's the team I miss, not the work.” She let the fridge door swing shut, having pulled out a box of leftover pizza. “And with you I don't need the team. I think of them less every day, you know. Maybe I miss the lieutenant more than the rest. He was always there for me. But I love you, Stanley Switek. And I really enjoy helping people try to put their lives back together. All we did in OCB was sweep up the streets.” Stan got the glow he felt every time he head Gina say those words. “I love you, too, Gina Calabrese. And you're right. Task Force just has a power washer instead of a broom, but it's the same idea. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy it. But I'm not married to it like Crockett and Tubbs.” He chuckled. “And now that we dug Izzy out of that garbage dump he was hiding in it's even more like old times. He's not the same without Noogie, though.” She nodded, turning on the oven to reheat their dinner. “I heard about that. I also heard about the beating those girls gave Anne. Good for them. Noogie was strange, but he deserved better.” “He did.” Stan stared at the TV without seeing it for a moment, then shook his head. “You ever stop to think how many times we say that in this job? So and so deserved better.” Gina nodded, sliding the pizza out of the box and onto a pan. Stan found himself admiring her curves as she bent over and smiled. “I have,” she said, winking when she caught him looking. “At least no one can say that about us now.” “No,” he said, taking her in his arms. “No, they can't.”

Even with the air conditioner on full it was hot in the Tech Room. That was the name Stan had given the office in the Task Force suite he'd taken over and turned into his workshop and, if he was honest, playground. He'd wanted to call it the Bat Cave, but Gina had talked him out of that one, using her soft brown eyes to full effect. Lester looked up from the flickering CRT screen, his eyes bright. “I can't believe all the stuff you have here, Stan! It makes OCB look like the freakin' Stone Age.” “Yeah, we do things right with your tax dollars.” Stan chuckled, setting down the tape he'd been splicing together to take out blank spots in the recording. “Those Feds have things I don't even think old Steve Duddy could have dreamed of. You can damned near hear a fly fart at three hundred yards with some of these mics. And don't get me started on the cameras.” “It's a shame...” Lester's voice trailed off. “I'm sorry, Stan. I shouldn't...” “It's ok, man. You're doing fine. You'd make Larry proud the way you're taking the background noise out of that tape.” Stan wasn't kidding. That wouldhave made Zito proud, and he had to admit it felt good working with a tech partner again. Trudy was smart as hell, but she wasn't into the tech like Larry had been. Or Lester was. “You're picking it up fast, and that's good. You having any luck with that one tape?” “Some. I've scrubbed it five times now. There's still hiss, but I think I got most of it out. It's a damned bad connection. Like two guys using cans and string.” “Third world phones. What can you do?” “The funny thing is...that's not the only call there. I think we got one of those conference calls.” “What do you mean?” Stan wheeled his chair over to look at the screen. Lester rolled the tape. “See?” He pointed to the wave signatures. “We got one voice there, the second, and a third.” “Damn! How'd I miss that?” “The third one didn't come out until I ran it through the fifth time. You've got Pedrosa, he's the first wave. That Moncado guy is the second. And the third is an unidentified Gringo.” “How do you know?” “Before he gets on the line they jump back and forth between Spanish and English. Once he's in, it's all English.” “Can you transcribe it?” “I can try.” “Great! I'll let the lieutenant know we hit paydirt.” Stan slapped his new partner on the shoulder. “Great work, Lester. You made Larry damned proud today. I know it.” “You're sure?” Castillo didn't look up. “We're sure, lieutenant.” Stan Switek stood in front of Castillo's plain desk. He'd just explained what Lester found and showed him the rough typed transcript. “Trudy hasn't reviewed it yet, so we might be off a bit in the Spanish parts. But there are three people on that tape, and one of them is Maynard.” So they were right. Long ago Castillo learned not to trust everything he heard from the CIA, but this time they'd been straight with him. The bigger question is why? Who did Maynard anger enough to throw him to the wolves? Any time the Company got involved things got complicated. And confused. Today's enemies were tomorrow's friends, and yesterday's allies were shot and left in a ditch. But now they had Maynard on tape. Talking with two drug smugglers. “I want you to have Lester focus on Moncado as much as he can. We need more intelligence on him. I want to verify for ourselves what we've gotten from other agencies.” “You got it, lieutenant. Lester's really learning fast.” “I know. You both are doing a great job. Let him know I appreciate what he's doing.” Castillo paused for a moment. “And I appreciate what you're doing.” Stan's jaw hung slack for an instant. “Thank...thank you, lieutenant. We'll get right on it.” Once Switek left, Castillo started flipping through the typescript pages. Looking to see if there was any hint of Maynard coming into the United States or wanting to deal directly with buyers of his drugs. Risk was part of the business, but he wasn't about to foolishly risk his two best detectives. Maynard knew both Crockett and Tubbs as cops, and if he saw them the operation was compromised. A second read-through convinced him Maynard was just checking up on things. Trying to find out why the flow of money had slowed down and why his main receiver in Florida was letting the pipeline back up. He'd need to listen to the tape to pick up on the nuances of voice and tone, to figure out the relationship between the men. Printed words made it seem like Moncado and Maynard were almost equals, but the voices would reveal the truth. He was about to go check with Switek when Trudy let herself into the office. She smiled, her eyes sparkling, and he felt himself smiling back. It felt good. “How did last night's meeting go?” “Good. Sonny and Rico had that Pedrosa dancing. Especially Rico. They cut us loose right after he left, just in case Pedrosa had men still in the club.” “Good.” Castillo felt a tightness in his chest and had to fight the urge to walk around the desk and kiss her. There will be time for that later.“Have you heard from Crockett and Tubbs today?” “I know they had a meeting this afternoon, but that's all.” She smiled again. “I'm sure they'll check in, lieutenant. You know those two.” The Gator Bar was one of those places that had seen its best days at least a decade gone now. The neon gator sign was missing tubes, making the gator look more like a constipated snake when it flickered on and off, and the building was in need of at least four fresh coats of paint and a full disinfecting. Sonny grinned as they left the car and walked across the street, feeling the heat through the soles of their shoes. He'd been in many bars like this growing up and during his time at the University of Florida. They were great places to drink and not be seen. At least it was cool inside, and the place didn't smell too strongly of stale Budweiser and piss. A knot of men in faded jeans and tattered t-shirts drank at the bar, looking up for a moment and turning back to their beers when they saw the newcomers weren't cops or some woman's enraged boyfriend. Tubbs wrinkled his nose and looked around. “Damn. They ever air this place out?” “Naw. Cuts down on the appeal.” Sonny motioned with his hand. “I think our two friends are in the back there. They've been watching us since we came in.” Ignoring the slack-jawed bartender swiping at the chipped bar with a rag last used to clean a dipstick, Crockett and Tubbs cut past a coin-operated pool table to a small table in the back by the bathrooms. Two men sat with a pitcher of beer between them. They looked to be of average height, and with their jeans and olive drab t-shirts they blended into the background of the Gator Bar. Sonny noticed they were positioned so neither had his back to the door. The one with dark hair looked up and nodded. “Dave and I understand you were in the Corps.” “Yeah. Paris Island and then 'Nam. '69 and '71. First Marine Division the first time around.” Sonny hooked a chair and sat down. “MP company, though.” He looked from one man to the other. “I hear you two cut your teeth in the Corps, too.” “We were both Hollywood Marines.” Dave smiled, showing even teeth and eyes that held yours until you had to look away. “MCRD San Diego. Hit 'Nam just after Tet '68 and were there through most of '69. Sniper platoon, Ninth Marines, Third Marine Division.” Crockett nodded. “So up north from me?” “Yeah. Near the DMZ. Arizona Territory. NVA mostly.” “Lots of VC down along the coast, but we got NVA from time to time.” Crockett closed his eyes, remembering the fights. “They used us as a security force quite a bit. We'd get hit on the roads, near villes. Even augmented line companies now and again.” The lighter-haired man waved for Tubbs to pull up a chair. “Take a load off, son. I'm Randy, by the by.” He looked back to Sonny. “You said you did two tours...” “Yeah. Second one was security detail. Mostly Da Nang, but I did get up around Pleiku and some other vacation spots in II Corps. My last show was the Embassy evacuation.” “You were there for that shit show?” Randy shook his head. “Hell of a way to cut and run, you ask me. Dave and I were out by then. The Corps in peacetime is for lifers and pogues who can't find their balls without a map, two mirrors, and someone to help them look. Did a stint with a police force out west and then the Marshal's Service recruited us. Ain't looked back since.” Tubbs nodded. “So you were cops.” “Yeah.” Dave spoke again, his voice lower than Randy's. “Seemed like the thing to do once we got home. We both got out in '74 and headed back to Butte. My brother was FBI an' he wanted to get us in with the Feebs. But I look like a monkey in a suit. So we went PD instead.” “Butte?” Dave laughed, a genuine sound that didn't travel far. “Montana. We're both Montana boys. Hunted since we could walk, so the Corps gave us rifles an' let us keep hunting.” Sonny nodded. “Sometimes they got it right.” He leaned in, looking at both men. “Tubbs here used to be NYPD, and I've been Metro-Dade since I got out of the Corps. Our lieutenant recruited us for this Task Force, but I'm not too clear on what backup we have aside from the two of you.” He raised his hand. “And I'm not complaining a bit. You two can handle yourselves and then some.” Randy seemed to be the deep thinker of the two, and he spoke again. “Always good to have a face and a name when you're going into spots you might not get out of. Truth be told we wanted to get a sense of you two as well. Watched you work that Reno asshole. Impressive.” “Thanks. And I can tell you I felt a damned sight better knowing we had two scout-snipers watching our backs. My company worked with teams from First Marine Division's snipers, and they were some solid, scary dudes.” Sonny looked over at Tubbs. “When you're working undercover you're usually on your own. It's good to know we've got someone with long reach watching.” Tubbs nodded. “What did your bosses tell you about this Task Force?” Randy snorted, pouring more beer for the men at the table. “Not much. Just to report to an office in Miami and talk to that spooky boss of yours.” Tubbs laughed. “Charles Bronson by way of Havana. Lieutenant Castillo's a good man. One of the best. But he is an intense cat.” “No shit.I don't think he moved the entire time we were in there. But he gave us a damned solid briefing.” Randy shook his head. “There was something about him, though...something familiar.” Dave took up the tale. “We got loaned out from time to time to...” He paused, his forehead furrowing in thought. “Other agencies they called them. I'd swear he briefed us once or twice.” “He could have.” Sonny nodded. “Castillo was a spook in 'Nam. I know he worked in Saigon and over in Thailand and Laos.” “It had to have been him, then. That op took us into Laos.” Dave looked at Sonny. “You think he remembered us?” “I'm sure he did. That man's mind is like ten computers tied together. And if he remembered you, he asked for you.” Sonny took a sip of beer to mask the feelings running through his heart. “It's the highest compliment I can think of. And if he asked for you, he's got your back. Period.” They talked through three more pitchers, telling tales of firefights in Vietnam and fistfights with drunks in cities large and small. Sonny had been worried about how the men would react to Tubbs, but as always Rico turned on the charm and soon had them laughing as he talked about chasing a thief carrying a TV set through the narrow, slick alleys of the Bronx. “I almost had the little chump,” he said, waving his hands to show how close he was after avoiding two winos, “when the sucker turns and throws the TV right at me! Hit me square in the chest, and this is one of those big, color TVs. Dropped me like I'd been hit by a brick. My partner jumps over me and manages to crack the skell a good one with his nightstick. Cat had been too busy laughing at my sorry ass to keep running.” “Gotta love the dumb ones.” “Yeah.” Sonny felt mellow from the beer. It had been some time since he'd sat and talked with other vets, and he had to admit it felt good. They could shift from cop stories to war stories without missing a beat, and he felt himself acknowledging memories and feelings he'd buried the second he'd taken off the uniform. How the hell could I have been so selfish and blown Robbie off?But there was still business. “I gotta ask. Can you guys work in close if you need to?” “Does a bear shit in the woods?” Dave chuckled. “We sure as hell can.” “Good. We're gonna have some meets with these guys where it would look funny if just Tubbs and I showed up for the dance. We could pull some detectives from Metro-Dade, but...” “You'd rather have guys you trust at your backs.” Randy nodded. “You can count on us, Sonny. You, too, Rico.” He turned to Dave. “We'd best get back. Got a report to write up. They've got us working some secondary stuff while we're here. We can drop it any time you guys need us, but you know government...” “They love their paper.” Sonny shook hands with the two men. “It was good meeting you two. You've got my number, and I'll get yours from Trudy. Let me know if there's anything we can do to help you guys, and I'll coordinate with you as soon as we know what's up with the target.” Back on the street the heat hit them like a wet brick heated in an oven. Tubbs winced and slipped on his sunglasses. “Those were two solid cats, Sonny.” “Yeah.” Crockett adjusted his own Ray Bans and headed for the car. “I figured they would be, but I feel a damned sight better having faces and names to go with them.” “And if we have to bring them as muscle I figure they'll give Pedrosa's boys nightmares.” Getting in the Ferrari, he grinned as the engine roared to life. “Now we'd better go swing by the office and see if the lieutenant has anything new for us.” “And I'll put the squeeze on Pedrosa. I'm surprised the little chump hasn't paged yet, even though I told him I'd call him.” “Where do you want to call from this time?” Lester sat in front of the phone board, a look of intense concentration on his face. “I want to make sure the background noise is right.” “We'll use the Rumour phone again.” Tubbs smiled. “Got an image to maintain, you know.” Stan came out of Castillo's office, his face unreadable. “As soon as you've hooked Pedrosa the lieutenant wants a word.” He turned to Sonny. “And I've got that info for you, Sonny.” “Thanks, Stan. We'll talk as soon as we're done with the lieutenant.” Lester spoke up. “It's ready, Rico. Go ahead.” Nodding, Tubbs selected the line and punched in numbers. “Carlos? Yeah, it's Cooper. I talked to my people and they're ok provided the product checks out. The sample we discussed is fine, and they're willing to front thirty for the sample. If it tests good, we can talk about prices for the rest.” Tubbs listened for a few seconds and then his face changed. “No, you look, chump! It is how it is. Be glad my people are coming back after that first shipment and mess Reno made of the second! They want quality checks, and I'm not sticking my neck out for you. Not until I know we can do business.” He listened again, winking and Sonny and Lester. “No, the club's a bit too loud for real business. We'll do the test down at the boat yard. Ten tonight. Look for slip 27. I'll be there with Burnett and one or two of his boys. Can't be too careful these days. You bring the product and I'll bring the fee. Don't cross me, chump. You don't want all of New York landing on your neck.” Sonny could still hear Pedrosa's whining voice as Tubbs slammed down the phone. “You think he'll show?” “I'm sure of it, Sonny. He sounds even more desperate now.” “And we know why.” Castillo came out of his office with two file folders. “I'll arrange for your back-up to meet you here before the meeting with Pedrosa. About 2000 so you can go over details beforehand. But you need to read this transcript first. Things are moving faster than we anticipated.” He slid a folder to Crockett and another to Tubbs. Sonny felt the manila under his fingertips as he reached out and took the folder. Old memories traced patterns through his brain and down to his heart as he opened it and read. “Maynard.” The name came out almost as a hiss. “We have him on tape. We don't know where he is, but judging from the quality he's overseas somewhere.” Castillo nodded to Lester. “It was all Lester could do to bring him out of the static.” “Meaning the call was patched through Mondaco's line.” Lester's voice had a new confidence, and Sonny grinned. Stan's rubbing off on him.“If it came through Pedrosa's it would have been clearer. I think Moncado patched Maynard in partway through the call.” Stan nodded, backing up his new partner. “It tracks, lieutenant.” Sonny was about to ask how Maynard sounded when one of the side office doors opened and Trudy came out of her office. She had her own little intelligence operation, complete with files from an alphabet soup of agencies domestic and foreign. Her eyes were bright. “Sorry for the interruption, but I've got more background on this Moncado. He's a nasty piece of work.” Sonny chuckled. “We've seen those before, darlin'.” “Not like him. He's worse than the Revilla brothers.” She shuddered, handing each detective two sheets stapled together. “That's just a summary. I should have a full profile done by tomorrow. Still waiting on a couple of files and trying to connect some dots.” “Thanks.” Crockett skimmed the first page and flipped to the second. “So he cut his teeth in the Columbian death squads? That could be where he met Maynard. I don't think there's a right-wing death squad he doesn't like.” “That's one of the dots I'm still trying to connect.” Trudy sat down, her habitual dark dress pulling tight. “But he had a record for torture, summary executions. You name it, he either did it or ordered it. He was bad enough the Columbian military was starting its own investigation when someone tipped him off and he disappeared.” “I wonder what little bird whispered in his ear?” Tubbs flipped through the pages. “This is one sick cat if half of it's true.” Trudy nodded. “It's mostly verified. After he skipped Columbia he turned up in Peru doing some kind of contract work. Supposedly he was working with the national police, but sightings have him all over the place. I think this is where he made his serious cocaine connections. He's still got ties in Columbia, so he can move his product through there without any serious problems. So long as he's not cutting up peasants where cameras can see him the Columbian government seems happy enough to ignore what he's doing.” “He knows where bodies are buried.” Castillo's voice barely rose above the hum of the ventilation system. “He can use that to keep their government off his back. And since he's in Maynard's pocket that buys him more room to maneuver. Both Columbia and Peru are fighting communist insurgencies, so the Company will be supporting them. That gives Maynard enough pull to keep them quiet.” “You can bet they're not going to risk losing all that aid money.” Sonny snorted and closed his folder. “Same old sorry song. Costa Morada all over again.” “Or that case that got old Ira Stone killed. Any time Maynard sticks his head up the bodies start piling up.” Tubbs shook his head. “But I gotta worry about tonight first. Can we get thirty gs for buy money, lieutenant?” “You'll have it inside the hour. Your backup will bring it.” Castillo favored them with one of his thin smiles. “Did you have a good talk with them?” I should have known he'd know.Sonny nodded. “Yeah, we did. They're good guys. Good Marines. It...” He paused, not quite sure of his words. “It felt good to talk about Nam.” “Common ground makes for better working relationships. I hope you meet with them again.” Castillo turned. “I'll arrange the money. Keep up the good work, everyone.” Sonny gathered up the papers. “I'd better go over this stuff again to make sure it's all straight in my head. Lots of players this time out, girls. The score card needs to be perfect.” Stan spoke up. “Hey, Sonny. I ran that name for you. Robbie's still got his club. What is it, The Sanctuary? Anyhow, the DA cut him some slack because of how that whole thing went down. No time and no real record. Just some community service. Looks like he's been doing good, though. Still married and his kid's about ready to start school.” Damn! It's been that long? I can still see the christening like it was yesterday.But the thought made him think on Will and what might have been, so Sonny tried to bury it for another time. “Thanks, Stan. I owe you one. I'll have to swing by there in the next couple of days and see how he's doing.” He sighed. “It's been too damned long.” Tubbs slapped him on the shoulder. “We've got a couple of hours before we need to meet our two shooters. You want to swing by now?” “Naw. It might take more than a couple of hours. And we need to have our heads in the game. If Pedrosa's getting scared he's going to be more dangerous than he was before.” Sonny looked at the phone transcript and shook his head. “Nothing worse than a cornered coward in cases like this.” Trudy nodded, surprising Sonny. “He's been calling all his boys today, too. Stan showed me the logs. I'd say he's checking his stash locations and trying to find out how many guns he can spare. He's worried about someone trying to hit his locations, but we don't have any chatter indicating who.” “Just what we need. A paranoid coward.” Sonny looked across the table at Trudy. “You've been studying this guy. Trudy. You think he'll try anything tonight?” “Right now? No. He likes having lots of guns on hand, and he just doesn't have that yet.” She looked at her notes. “But if he can shake more men loose that could change. I'll let you know if anything changes. Stan's still tracking his communications locally. Lester's watching the longer-range chatter.” “Solid.” Tubbs flashed one of his characteristic smiles. “You've got this thing nailed, Trudy.” She smiled back, and Sonny thought he could detect a hint of blush through her makeup. “Thanks, Rico. It's not as exciting as the streets, but it's also fun. It's nice to actually see the puzzle coming together instead of digging pieces out of the gutter.” Sonny stood up. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I could use some food before tonight's festivities. We'll meet back at seven-thirty or so. Get things in order before our guests show at eight.”

Yet more in the Task Force saga... Crockett and Tubbs waited in Interrogation 2 with mixed feelings. Tubbs paced the room like a caged leopard. “I should be calling Pedrosa right now, not dancing with this chump.” Crockett sat slumped in one of the metal chairs. “Just relax, Rico. The lieutenant had a good reason for sending us. He knows we've worked with Moreno more than anyone else on the Task Force. That and he needs Stan to finish setting Lester up to handle the surveillance.” “I know. But it doesn't make that little weasel any easier to stomach.” Tubbs was about to continue when the door opened and Izzy's stench hit them like a thick fog. “Dear God! Is that you, Moreno?” “Crockett! Tubbs! Am I ever glad to see joo two!” Izzy pushed past Stan, who grinned at the two detectives before shutting the door with a firm click. “Yas...that is the essence of me joo smell. The primordial fragrance. The...” “The stench of something that should have been buried weeks ago.” Crockett grinned as Tubbs moved to the side of the room nearest the ceiling vents. “Where the hell have you been, Moreno? I'd say basting yourself in garbage judging from the smell, but I think even the garbage would kick you out.” Izzy frowned. “Joo insult me. Joo pain me to the core.” “No. I just say you smell like a dead dog left in the hot sun for three weeks. But that doesn't answer the question. Why did you go into hiding? And don't give me any crap about some Hemingway writing retreat. I don't think you can write your name, let alone anything else.” “Crockett, I...” Tubbs slammed his hand on the table, making Izzy jump. “No, you listen chump! I am not going to sit in here smelling your damned armpits and your funky feet for much longer. Keep it up, and we'll violate your smelly ass right back to your parole officer. And you know what that means...” “Okay! Joo don't have to be so hostile, Tubbs. When Noogie died there was talk. Lots of street talk. Bad heroin. Dealers looking to settle scores. Joo name it, it was out there. And wit' my good friends Crockett and Tubbs gone I didn't know what to do. So I go to my uncle an' he sends me to that hut.” Izzy shuddered. “I hate the damned ocean, man! It plays hell with my complexion! My skin foundationals get all messed up with the salt air, joo know.” “Great. We'll get you a facial to go with the shower.” Crockett leaned forward, breathing shallow to avoid taking in too much primal Izzy. “We need you out on the streets, Izzy. Like yesterday. Don't worry about the heroin. That's taken care of. It's the other party favors we need to know about.” “Yeah, chump. You get back to doing what you do.” “Hokay. I do it. For joo two.” “Great.” Crockett handed Izzy a card. “That number will get you Switek. You report to him unless it's big. Then he'll let us know. You get the usual CI stipend, and we won't tell your parole officer what you've been up to.” “Cross us and we will, chump. You can bank on it.” Izzy took the card with a hurt expression. “After all these years there should be some trust. We fight the forces of evil so many times...joo can't have forgotten...” “That you'll do anything to make a buck, honest or otherwise? No, we haven't forgotten. We need actionable intel, Moreno. Not gossip or shit you make up. Clear?” Crockett waited for Izzy to nod. “Good. Now go find a shower and get some clean clothes. I hear there's a new batch of old folks down at the Pelican who need some of those Italian shoes.” Once Izzy was gone, Tubbs let out a long sigh. “I can finally breathe again. You think that little chump had a dead rat in his shorts?” “Nothing would surprise me with Moreno.” Sonny chuckled at the image Tubbs created. “But I think even dead rats have standards.” “You think he'll turn anything up?” “With Izzy you never know. Most of it might be shit, but from time to time the little bastard brings in pure gold. Maybe we'll get lucky.” Metal scraped on concrete as Sonny pushed the chair back from the table. “Let's get back so you can call Pedrosa. He must be sweating blood by now.” Stan and Lester were huddled in the far corner of the conference room going over notebooks when Crockett and Tubbs got back to the anonymous office suite. Stan looked up when they came in. “Glad you guys are here. I want to show Lester how the phone set-up works. Rico, where do you want to call from?” “A pay phone down by the docks. Near a club would be good just in case that girl and her meat slab have been talking around town.” “Good thinking.” Stan shifted the phone so Lester could see and activated a line. “This will route it through a phone outside Rumour, that dance club down where the Red Flamingo used to be. Hit this switch and the line will have the right background noise. There's a key in the back of the green notebook here so you can match numbers to lines and locations.” Lester nodded, his face twisted in intense concentration. “Don't worry, man. You'll get to practice later. I just wanted you to see in it real-time action.” Stan flicked the switch and grinned over at Tubbs. “You're good to go, Rico.” “Thanks.” Rico took the receiver and keyed in the number from Crockett's pager. “This is Cooper. Put Carlos on. Look, my time's money and it's runnin' out fast. That show with the Coast Guard was amateur as hell, and my people don't like messin' with amateurs...So show me you're not!...Look...I ain't got time for this song and dance you're doin'. We either make a deal soon or my an' my money fly back to New York City and never look back...No, I don't do negotiations over the phone. You still want a deal we meet face to face. I bring Burnett since he's handling my transportation...Tomorrow night at the latest. Then I'm gone...No, Reno picked the last meet sight and that chump screwed everything up. You want to meet, page Burnett. I'll call you back with the place. You pick the time...If you want to do business that's how it is.” Snorting, Tubbs slammed the phone down. “He sounded damned desperate. Wanted to do the whole thing over the phone.” “I'll play the tapes back for the lieutenant.” Stan got up. “Now, Lester, let me show you what happens after one of those calls.” The two surveillance experts headed for the back office, Stan already rubbing his hands together in anticipation. “You ever get the feeling you saw something that just wasn't natural?” “Every time I see Switek like that.” Tubbs chuckled. Then his eyes changed. “I've been meaning to say thanks for that Nikko thing.” “Aw, don't sweat it, Tubbs. You'd do the same for me. It was just dumb luck Benny told the bartender about Burnett. Otherwise he wouldn't have said a damned thing.” Crockett slapped his forehead. “I forgot to ask Stan to check on something for me. And there's no way I'm opening that door.” “Some things are just best left unseen.” Rico laughed and then turned serious again. “Was it important?” “Not really. Just another possible source of information. It'll keep.” Sonny stood up, glad that Izzy's stench was finally out of his nose. “I'm gonna head back to the boat and feed Elvis. Maybe make some dinner. You want me to pick you up in the morning? Odds are Castillo will want updates.” “You up for some company, partner?” “I'm going to play it low-key tonight. Nothing personal. Just got some things to sort out.” “Solid. Drop me by the Cooper palace, then. I'll go ahead and drive in come morning. Got some dry cleaning to drop off.” Tubbs looked down at his suit. “This damned climate plays hell with my good threads. And it'll likely take two cleanings to get Izzy's stench out of this suit.” The Magic Hour had Miami firmly in its gold-shrouded grasp when Sonny stopped in front of the tombstone. He never visited on the actual anniversary. That would be too easy for someone to track. But he couldn't shake the time of day, when the setting sun turned everything a red gold and all seemed possible. Looking down, he read the inscription. 'Caitlin Crockett and Baby Will. You are in my heart always and forever.' He knew she could have written better, but he wasn't a poet. The medical examiner told Sonny the fetus was a boy, so he'd named it after Caitlin's bass player. Someone who'd fought for her. It just seemed right. As always, he laid three red roses on the slab. One for each of them. “I don't know why I'm still here and you're not,” he muttered, looked away from the tombstone to the red sky beyond. “You were so much better than I ever was. If I could go back and take that bullet, I would.” Choking back a sob, he looked down at the grave. The cemetery did a good job maintaining things, and Caitlin's former assistant brought fresh flowers out from time to time. Maybe not as much now, but Sonny didn't hold that against her. She had a life to live. “It's hard, babe. Some days it's ok, but others...I miss you so damned much. We were right on the edge of something great. I just wish I would have known about Will. I would have left the force, you know. For the two of you. I couldn't do that with Caroline. I don't know why. Maybe we were both too damned young. Too unaware of what the world can do. But for you...I would have walked away. I should have said that. I know I thought it enough times.” He stopped talking, feeling tears running down his cheeks. “I would have been happy running your damned security. Nothing fancy. Funny how we all stop being proud when it's too late and doesn't count for anything.” He touched the stone, feeling the cool marble under his fingertips. “I don't think there's any going back for me now. You'd be happy to know both Marty and Stan finally found love. With Trudy and Gina of all things. Yeah, Gina finally figured it out and moved on. We never would have worked, never could have worked. She was always part of it, and I needed someone away from it. You understood that. Tubbs is still Tubbs. I don't know if he'll ever get over Angelina, and Valerie messes with his head, too. We're both damaged goods, babe. Maybe the Job is all we deserve now.” The sun had almost vanished before he lifted his fingers from the stone. “Guess I'd better go feed Elvis. Damned ticking suitcase is still crawling around and still needs me.” He paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. “I still love you, babe. And I miss you more than ever.” Turning, he walked back to the Ferrari. Closing that part of his soul until the next visit. The sun was fully set, and Miami vied with the stars to put on a worthy light show. Ricardo Tubbs sat in one of the chairs on his penthouse deck, looking down at the sprawling city with a glass of scotch in his hand and regrets in his heart. How could I fall for that girl? Damn it! Crockett's the one who's supposed to do that, not me. He smiled and took a sip, the whiskey warming his tongue and throat. “Maybe that's just what I tell myself,” he muttered, picking out the bright neon of various clubs with a practiced eye. “I wasn't seeing much besides where that dress stopped and her assets started.” The mood was familiar, and he knew trying to fight it was pointless. Soon enough he'd start thinking about his son. Wondering where the boy was and which inbred chunk of the Calderone clan was busy poisoning his heart against his father and lying about his mother. It bothered him more than he cared to admit, and not knowing was the worst part. Maybe little Ricardo was dead. The odds were he'd never know. Feeling the familiar weight of his revolver in its hip holster Tubbs got up and walked to the edge of the roof. He liked watching the cars snake by, twisting their way deeper into the heart of the city like glowing worms, Maybe coming back was the wrong thing to do. Most days, most hours, it felt good, but then there were times he questioned the whole thing. Crockett, he knew, was all in. Most times Rico was, too. But then he got to thinking about the intensity in Castillo's eyes and wondered. Martin Castillo was the most intense man Tubbs had ever known. Even being with Trudy hadn't seemed to mellow the man. If anything he drew more strength from the human connection. What gave him pause was the lack of restraint. Before, when they were Metro-Dade, Castillo always tried to hold them back. Now it was the opposite. They were running like he'd never seen a unit run before. Totally open. No real limits. And he had no idea if they had any backup worthy of the name. Sighing, he turned back to the table and poured another drink. Tomorrow was another day, and there was much yet undone. Cooper needed to come on stage again, strutting like he owned the whole damned south of Florida and push Pedrosa into making a mistake. The thought brought a smile to Rico's face. It all seemed to be coming together. “Stan, I need a favor.” Sonny Crockett stood in the suite doorway, his white blazer unbuttoned in recognition of the heat even though it was still early. “No, I won't take your mom out. Gina would get pissed.” “You're not her type anyhow, big guy.” Sonny chuckled. “No, when you get a chance could you run a name for me? I'd like to know what Robbie Cann's up to these days.” “Your old Marine buddy? Sure. I'll see what I can find. I think the DA cut him a deal for his testimony, so he didn't do time. But I'll have the whole thing for you by tomorrow.” “Thanks.” “Oh, one more thing. Trudy left a message for you last night. That meeting you wanted? She's got it set up for you. Two o'clock tomorrow down at the Gator Bar by the canals.” “I know the dive. Does Tubbs know?” “Does Tubbs know what?” Rico sauntered in, his habitual Armani rig open like Crockett's to catch any hint of cool. “We got a meet with those guys. Two tomorrow at the Gator Bar.” “Solid.” Tubbs helped himself to coffee and sat down. “Thank Trudy if you see her before we do.” Sonny was about to say something when the pager on his hip buzzed. “Looks like old Carlos is serious,” he said when he looked at the number. “That's him.” “What's a good place to meet this chump?” “It's a face to face, not a buy. Not yet. How about Rendezvous? It's glitzy enough for Cooper.” “Solid.” “I won't be able to wire the place. Just so you know.” “Shouldn't be a big deal. We might need you and Trudy inside as cover, but that's all. After Reno you can bet he'll be checking us for wires.” Reaching out, Tubbs picked up the phone and selected another pay phone number. “Might as well keep the chump guessing.” This time the talk was short and direct. Tubbs give him the club name, waited ten seconds and hung up. “He says six tonight.” “That means his boys will show up by five.” Sonny looked over at Stan. “You and Trudy can either get there before that or after. Just no later than five thirty. Those boys will be jumpy as hell as the meet time gets close.” Before Tubbs could add anything, the suite door opened and Martin Castillo walked in. He looked at the three detectives and nodded. “Pedrosa must have made contact.” “He did.” Tubbs spoke quickly. “We're meeting him at Rendezvous. It's a new club down near the beach but far enough back for the rich folks to keep the sand out of their shoes.” He chuckled. “It's set for six tonight. We can't get surveillance on the place, but we'd like to put Stan and Trudy inside before the meet as backup.” “Are you expecting a deal?” “No. And Cooper won't make one.” Tubbs looked over at Sonny, who nodded. “I'm playing it cool. After all, his boy almost got Cooper killed. At least that's what I want Pedrosa to think. We'll dance, see how low he's willing to go, and then deal. If Stan's intel is right he's got lots of pressure at his back. It won't take long, but I don't want to make it too easy for him.” “Yeah. He'd bolt if it looked too easy.” “Trudy's getting Izzy situated in a safe house. She'll be back in time to get ready.” Castillo stood for a moment, looking at Sonny and Rico. “It's a good plan. Do it.” Then he turned and headed for his office, shutting the door behind him. Sonny inclined his head toward the door and raised an eyebrow. “Ideas?” Stan nodded, keeping his voice low. “Coordination. The Feds give us a long leash, but he has to keep them updated. That and I think he's reaching out to old friends. People who owe him favors. I never knew so many people owed him so much, but he calls them in when we need something.” “We've got a few hours before the meeting.” Sonny looked over at Tubbs. “I don't know about you, but I could use a burger and some time to think.” He looked across the table. “You want to come, Stan? You know more about Pedrosa than both of us put together. Be nice to know what you hear in his voice that isn't in those files.” “That's the long of it.” Stan Switek spoke around a mouthful of french fries slathered in ketchup. “The short is we don't have much on Pedrosa apart from what Metro-Dade handed over. He's always been a mid-level player at best, and I think he's afraid Moncado might decide he over-promoted little Carlos. He tries to rule through fear, something Reno never could do, and it works for him about half the time.” He swallowed the mangled potatoes and took a big bite of burger. “From listening to 'em talk, I think most of his men are really afraid of Moncado. They do what he says because they think Pedrosa has his ear.” “Does he?” Sonny leaned forward, focusing on Stan's every word. Whatever school he went to paid off. The big guy's got this down. “Sometimes. Little Carlos is ambitious, and Moncado knows that. What they worry about more is his erratic streak. Pedrosa can be in the middle of a meeting and lose it for no reason. I heard his boys talking one time about how he shot a guy for bringing him coffee that was too hot. But it's mostly an act.” Stan leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Don't take this the wrong way, Sonny, but Burnett would have eaten him for lunch.” “Don't worry about it, Stan. Knowing that actually helps me plan for this meeting.” Sonny smiled, hiding the worry spinning in his brain.Burnett was a force to be reckoned with. I can feel it deep down, just waiting to get out again. The bad face of the coin that shrink called him. Maybe she was right.“Maybe I can use that if Cooper's magic fails.” “The play never fails, baby.” Tubbs laughed, forking salad into his mouth after he spoke. His forehead wrinkled as he chewed and swallowed. “But if this cat starts flipping out Burnett can smack him back into place.” “They talked for days about how you shot Reno's guy for mouthing off. Pedrosa knows about that.” “So he'll either challenge the man or avoid the man.” Rico signaled a passing waitress for coffee. “We're solid either way.” “And Trudy and I will be there if it gets too hot.” Sonny nodded, looking at his watch. “You'd better head back and see if she's ready. Thanks for the time, Stan. That was damned good information.” “Any time, Sonny.” Once Switek was gone, Tubbs turned to Sonny. “It's like watching a kid grow up.” “Yeah. I just hope he stays off the gambling.” “You can bet Gina will keep him clean.” “Yeah. Damned good thing, too. I don't think we could work this without Switek. I do miss Lee Harvey Oswald, though.” “Larry was a good cop. No question.” Tubbs let that sit in the air for a time and sipped his coffee. Sonny accepted the unspoken rebuke. Again, that's the least I deserve for what happened. It's on me, and will be until I die.“Let's blow this pop stand and get ready. Stan's 'Little Carlos' might not be Al Capone, but he's no pushover, either.” Rendezvous was set back from the street, most of the club's neon-streaked facade hidden by thick hedges and the occasional palm tree. A narrow walkway done in old-style paving stones led to the door, and Sonny and Rico walked past the tuxedo-clad doorman like they owned the place. Sonny had never been there before, so he let Rico take the lead. “Bar's a big ring in the center,” his partner told him on the drive down. “Dance floors on either side and these funky booth things along the walls. They got some kind of VIP room, too. But we're not going in there. I told Carlos to look for us in one of the booths across from the door.” Once inside Sonny focused his attention on people and not lights or the mid-range music trying to lure people onto the dance floors. He spotted Stan and Trudy right away, but his expression didn't change. They had a good spot at the bar where they could sweep the entire place if need be. Even though it was early the place was fairly crowded, and they made their way through the crowd toward the back booths. Once they passed, he raised his hand and whispered, “Nod if you read me.” He nodded back when both Stan and Trudy bobbed their heads. Comms were working. That was always a plus. Tubbs found what he was looking for and slid into the booth, the cushion leather creaking as he settled in. “Now we wait. Seen any of Carlos's friends yet?” “Might be two at the bar. Hard to say, though.” Sonny shook his head. He'd spotted two or three small-time dealers, and the muscle might be connected with them and not Pedrosa. “Scratch that. They work for Tony Hernandez.” “I thought that chump was doing time.” “So did I, but he's over there tryin' to make a deal with some other punk.” Sonny smiled as a waitress clad in a short black suggestion and bright smile approached their booth. “Black Jack neat for me, darlin'. My friend here likes Johnny Walker Black on the rocks.” They'd just gotten their drinks when Sonny felt the familiar tickle at the base of his neck. He'd first noticed it years ago when he and Robbie were doing jeep patrol duty in Da Nang, and learned to never ignore its subtle warning. Looking up, he spotted five men moving through the crowd around the bar. “We got company,” he whispered, making sure the mic picked it up. “Five of 'em.” Tubbs sipped his scotch and looked cool, but Sonny could see the intensity burning in his eyes. Once the men got close enough, Tubbs waved his hand across the table, palm up. “You must be Carlos. Take a seat. Your friends might have to wait at the bar. No one's sitting in my lap.” “Mine either, pal.” Sonny tightened his jaw to hide a smile as he saw white spots appearing high on Pedrosa's face. He also saw why Stan called him Little Carlos; Pedrosa wasn't over five seven and likely didn't break one sixty on the scale. His hair was raven black like his eyes, and he had high cheekbones and narrow, almost pointed features. Pedrosa dismissed his men with a gesture, but Sonny noticed the tremor in his hand as he did so. “It is all business, yes?” he asked in a voice deeper than his body might suggest. “I don't need helpers to talk business. Do you, Mr Cooper?” “Mr. Burnett is my transportation consultant.” Tubbs looked at Pedrosa with hooded eyes. “My money's from New York; his services are more local. My people focus their efforts on other aspects of the business.” “Like what?” “Like things that don't concern you. Your man Reno almost got me blown away by the Coast Guard. I was on my way back to New York when Burnett here convinced me to hang back and salvage something from the deal.” Tubbs set down his empty glass. “I don't like almost being blown away, Carlos. It makes me cranky. And it makes my friends wonder about the security of someone they might do business with.” Now that Tubbs had switched into full Cooper mode, Sonny split his attention between the conversation and watching the club around them. He saw Carlos' men, standing at the bar like movie props with Budweisers in their hands and bulges under their arms. Trudy and Stan had shifted to cover them, so he wasn't too worried. Two of the small-time dealers had moved on, their places taken by others with big ambitions and small skills. “Do we bore you, Burnett?” “Honestly? Yes, you do. Mostly you, Carlos. Cooper and I have done business before. He needs stuff moved, I find out how much and how. You only matter to me once he's made a deal and I have things to pick up. That's how I survive in this game, pal. So what are we talking?” Tubbs laughed. “That's why I like Burnett, Carlos. Straight to the point and no fuss about him. If this goes as planned, can you handle all of Carlos' stock on hand?” “I can move up to eight hundred keys with next to no notice. Anything above that I need a couple of days. That also raises my rates.” “And cuts what I pay per kilo. You see, my people like business to make a profit.” Pedrosa's eyes glittered in light reflected from the mirrors behind the booth, and Sonny saw the cowardice behind the bluster. That makes him more dangerous. He's the little shit who knifes you while you're taking a piss. Odds are he'll try to screw us at some point during the deal.“We all want to make money, Mr. Cooper. That is why I meet with you.” “Not what I hear. What I hear is your network can't keep up with your imports so you need new markets. Like I told your punk Reno I can get your product to those markets. My associates were reasonably happy with the first shipment, but they want to know if you can get better quality product. Eighty percent doesn't leave much room for expansion.” “Eighty percent?” A vein started throbbing on Pedrosa's forehead. “Is that what he sold you? We normally go ninety percent. At the lowest.” “We will need to test this next shipment. If it's below the level you say, there's no deal and I fly my happy ass back to New York.” “You have my word.” “And your boss' word too?” Sonny shook his head and turned to Tubbs. “You taking this deal?” “I'll need to check with New York. If he can produce ninety percent they'll be happy.” Tubbs flashed his Cooper deal smile. “I'll call you tomorrow and let you know, Carlos. We can meet for a test and final negotiations.” “Sure, but I'll need a down-payment.” The relief was visible on Pedrosa's narrow face. “Something to show your people mean business.” “Sure. And I'll need your sister for the same reason.” Tubbs grinned. “Just kidding. I don't care if you have a sister or not.” Sonny checked out again while they traded insults and talked about price. The guys at the bar were starting to worry him. They'd pulled closer together, and seemed to be watching Pedrosa for some kind of signal. Slipping his hand inside his dark blazer he unsnapped his 4506. Just in case. He couldn't see Pedrosa making a move now, but he'd learned long ago you can't predict the actions of cowards. “I think you'll be glad to stayed to make this deal.” Pedrosa stood up, extending his hand. “Let's shake on a successful beginning.” Tubbs rose and shook his hand. “Sure. But I'll drink to it when we're done with the first shipment of quality product. And for the one after that, if this goes better than Reno's fiasco, I'll have Burnett dial up some more transport options. And Carlos? There'd better not be another whacked-out junkie on smack popping up to ruin our business.” “If there is I'll blow him away like I did the last one.” Sonny slipped into Burnett without missing a beat. “And maybe I won't stop there.” “That was Reno's mistake. My...the organization I represent doesn't deal in that product.” “We'll talk more about that tomorrow.” Tubbs was playing grateful Cooper now, and Sonny marveled at how easily he could shift between the various shades of Cooper. “We may want to bring in others from your organization if this works out.” Sonny waited until Pedrosa and his four men left the club before letting out a long sigh. Raising his arm, he spoke into the small mic. “Stan, you and Trudy can call it a night. You've both got people to see. Tubbs and I will roll out in a bit.” “Sending the kids home?” “Something like that. Besides, Pedrosa might still have people in the club. He doesn't need to see them with us.” “Good point, partner. You think he bought it?” “I think he's so afraid of something he had to buy it. I ain't sure he likes it much, though.” “Same thing I saw. The chump tries to be tough, but behind it he's scared of someone.” “He's a coward, Rico. You can see it in his eyes. That makes him dangerous.” Sonny looked around for the waitress. He needed another drink. “But yeah, he's afraid of Moncado. We need get some more intel on that guy. I have a feeling we'll be meeting him pretty damned soon.”

Castillo looked up from his notes. “So he bit on the heroin?” “Sounded like it to me.” Crockett nodded. “He was all bent that we went to someone else, but shut up fast when I told him Mr. Cooper might take all his business elsewhere.” Stan chuckled. “I heard that call. You should hear the one he made ten seconds after you hung up.” Tubbs leaned in. “Who did he call? Pedrosa? Moncado?” Trudy shook her head. “Neither. He called someone named Tio. He hasn't come up before, but I'd say he's the one who's sitting on Reno's heroin. He asked for a sample and some extra handlers.” Crockett nodded. “More guns. Makes sense he'd want more firepower on hand after the rules changed.” “That and for the coke.” Trudy checked her notes again. “Right after that he made six calls to warehouses and other locations. Sounded like he's setting up the goods for movement. I'd say you're looking at most of it going by truck, judging from where the calls went. He's moving his older product out first.” “Maybe we should look for 'sell by' dates on the samples.” Tubbs laughed. “I can get you a sniper team if you want cover.” Castillo looked from Crockett to Tubbs. “I don't think Reno would be looking for anyone five hundred yards out.” “FBI?” Tubbs shook his head. “No thanks. They might shoot us by mistake.” “Marshal's service. Former Marines.” “In that case, yes.” Crockett nodded. “Meeting's at the same dock as before, and if Reno's going to try anything it'll be there. He knows Cooper won't follow him to someplace new, and his boys will be watching me, I mean Burnett, close.” “You won't be wired. Switek can get close with a parabolic, but reception is bad.” “Have them give us cover if anything goes south.” Crockett pulled a photo of the dock out of his folder. “If we're careful they won't be able to box us in on the dock. Snipers can pin them down and confuse them enough to cover any retreat we have to make. But if that happens the deal's blown.” Stan cleared his throat. “What about SWAT, lieutenant? Can we have a team ready to at least haul in Reno if that happens?” “Yes, but Reno does us no good. He can be replaced in ten minutes. We need Moncado, and if Joplin's analysis is correct we have to go through Pedrosa to get to him.” Crockett snapped his fingers, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “If the sniper has to engage, we'll try to spin it as a rival dealer of some kind. Accuse Reno of setting us up. It's not much, I know, but...” “If it comes to that, sell it.” Castillo pushed back from the table. “I need to make a call. Tubbs, you'll have the buy money in place by ten tomorrow morning. Take cash for the heroin.” Once the office door closed, Stan looked around the table and whistled low. “Damn. Before that would have taken a week. Now it's a couple of phone calls.” Tubbs nodded, then looked at Crockett. “What changed your mind about the shooters, Sonny?” “We had a pair of scout-snipers attached to our MP company in Vietnam for a couple of weeks.” Sonny leaned back, forcing his mind to visit a time he'd rather forget. “They sighted in their rifles at 800 yards. Remember that shooter we took out a few years back? He was good, but these guys are better.” He sighed, remembering the slender body and hot eyes of the girl who'd tried to have him killed. The daughter of one of his dead buddies from Nam. “If you're solid, I'm solid.” Tubbs laughed, stretching and standing up. “I'm also hungry. Trudy, you and Stan want to catch dinner with us?” “I'd love to, Rico, but I've...” She looked toward the closed door and blushed. “I've got plans.” “I'll go if you two don't mind a fourth.” Stan spoke as he gathered up his briefing notes and photos. “Gina should be off soon and I'm sure she'd like to catch up.” Gina.Sonny took a deep breath. It has to happen sooner or later. Hell. Might as well be now. “Sure. You pick the place.” “How about Fontino's in an hour? It's far enough out the players don't like it, and the food's good.” Tubbs winked. “We'll meet you there. And we'll take the Caddy. Reno's boys got a good look at the Ferrari. No point in advertising.” Fontino's was an old-style supper club time seemed to have forgotten. North of the city, it served great steaks and passable Italian food to retirees spending their last few years pretending to be rich and important. Dark and smoky inside, with framed prints of Bogey in his private eye roles, Fontino's invited no questions and revealed no secrets. The Caddy's wheels crunched over gravel as Tubbs turned into a parking space away from the circles of yellow thrown by the lot's pole-mounted lights. “No reason to advertise,” he said as he turned the big car off. “I agree.” Crockett looked around, losing count of the number of Lincoln Continentals and Cadillacs parked in close to the awning-shaded door. “I wonder how Stan found this place?” “Probably running down cigar smugglers. Guidos from Joisey wearing Cuban shirts love places like this.” Tubbs chuckled. “Let's go mingle!” The manager intercepted them seconds after they walked through the door. “You must be Stanley's friends! He's waiting for you at his table in the back. Please, come with me.” Stan Switek dominated the back booth. Gina sat next to him, smiling at something he said just before Crockett and Tubbs came into view. Sonny's mouth almost fell open when he saw Stan, dressed in a well-cut suit that looked more like something Tubbs would wear, stand up and smile. “You're here! Rudy, drinks for my guests. We'll order in ten minutes.” Tubbs looked from Stan to Gina and back again. “Did we just step into the Twilight Zone?” “No. I worked a cigar smuggling case here a few months back. Rolled up a couple of would-be mobsters from some dump in New Jersey, but the cover's too good to give up. Rudy there thinks I'm some kind of underboss with connections to Havana, and I just don't have the heart to tell him no.” Tubbs gave Crockett an 'I told you so' look and laughed. “I'd buy cigars from you, Stan. No questions asked!” “Good, because that's why Rudy thinks you're both here. He'll keep people away, and I already swept the booth. Not a bug to be found.” Sonny nodded, looking across the table at Gina. Her hair was cut shorter than he remembered, but the worry lines around her eyes were also gone. She looked happy, and almost glowed every time she looked at Stan. “Great cover, Stan. And durable. The best ones are.” He looked at her again. “You look good Gina.” “Thanks, Sonny.” She smiled, but without the hidden meaning it used to carry. “So do you.” “Naw. I look the same as ever. You look...happy.” Rudy bustled back, and Sonny waited until the man dropped off drinks and scurried away again. “Stan says you're with victim services now.” “That's right. They need a detective or two to help with the worst cases.” She paused, then smiled again. “It's good work. Rewarding work. I help girls get off the streets. Not just stand on the corners with them wondering if they'll be there the next night or if someone will find them cold in an alley.” “Good. That's work I could never do.” He tasted the Black Jack on his tongue as he sipped his drink. “And you two look good together.” To his surprise he wasn't lying. He'd never seen Stan or Gina looking as happy as they did now. “I'm glad you said that, Sonny. I...” “No. You were right. You needed to move on, and I'm glad you did. And with a great guy.” He looked over at Stan, deep in conversation with Tubbs about the merits of some cigar or another. “Stan's one of the best guys I know. He's all heart. You two can be there for each other. That's what it takes. I learned that from Caitlin.” “You're right.” She looked over at Stan and smiled. It lit up her face and eyes in a way Sonny had never seen before. “He talks to me about everything, and I can talk to him about the girls and he understands. His gambling is done now, thank God, and we talk about it, too.” “Good. We tried once, but...” Sonny took another drink. “I'm not a good talker, Gina. Never have been. Not until Caitlin. I don't know why I could talk to her, but I could. When you find someone like that, never let them go.” “It's because it was real, Sonny.” She smiled again. “I was so jealous of you two until Stan and I got close. Now I understand. Maybe someday you'll...” He stopped her with a raised finger. “I doubt it. If it happens, it happens. But for now I need to stay focused on the job.” Before they could say much else, Rudy returned with menus the size of a dictionary. Stan waved him off, ordering for all four with a confidence Crockett had never seen hi show before. Rudy scribbled away on his pad, nodding with each choice, and disappeared back toward the kitchen. “That should keep him off our backs for a few minutes.” Stan chuckled. “We need more booze, I just need to snap my fingers.” Tubbs waved his hand and bowed his head. “My man, you have this place wired! And I mean wired!” “The trick is to come in about once a month and put on the show. That and I might have helped him out with some protection issues he was having.” “Take out a low-level problem and pose as his higher-level protector.” Tubbs laughed. “Guess you learned something from watching me all these years.” Crockett laughed along with the rest. “Seriously, Stan, this is good work. You've got a solid, easy to maintain cover and a secure meeting spot you can use for just about anything. Who was running the protection racket?” “Some local kids who'd seen 'The Godfather' one time too many.” Stan laughed and finished his scotch. “We're far enough up the coast here the connected outfits don't waste their time. Not enough money in it. I did my homework before I stepped on 'em.” Looking at his empty glass, he snapped his fingers. “Looks like we're due for a refill all around.” The food was excellent in a heavy 'meat and potatoes' way, reminding Sonny of TV shows he'd watched on the family's flickering black and white TV. Steak and lobster, twice baked potatoes, and coffee and cigars to close out the evening. Tubbs leaned back against the padded booth wall and sighed, sending a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “I won't have to eat tomorrow. That's for sure.” “You never leave Fontino's hungry,” Stan agreed, lighting his own cigar. “And don't ask about dessert. You'll never get out the door. Maybe not out of the booth.” Gina laughed, a musical sound between the clatter of cutlery on china plates and murmuring voices around them. “He's not joking. I had dessert here once and Stan practically had to carry me out.” “True story.” Stan laughed. “I think it was our second real date. I'm thinking I have to impress her, and damned near killed her with dessert.” Crockett made a show of looking at his watch. “Well, kids, I think we'd best head back into town. Lots to do tomorrow.” Tubbs waved Rudy over. “It was good doing business with you, Stanley. My associates in New York will be impressed. The least I can do is pay for dinner.” He handed two hundred dollar bills to a flabbergasted Rudy. “Keep the change, my man.” Once the manager tottered off, Tubbs grinned. “Gotta help shore up that cover.” “He'll share it with the crew.” Stan nodded his appreciation. “Rudy's part owner, I think. But he's good to his people. One reason I keep coming here.” “It was good to see you again, Gina.” Sonny smiled, letting the feeling touch his eyes. “You and Stan look after each other. It's good to see both of you so happy.” The Caddy was eating up pavement heading back to Miami before Tubbs spoke. “You ok, partner?” “Yeah.” Crockett sighed. “No, I really am ok, Rico. It was good to see Gina happy. Stan, too. Knowing they're in good hands makes it easier to focus on what needs doing.” It was also good to know that part of his past wasn't going to keep floating up. Gina was chasing a dream. I'm glad she finally found one of her own to hold on to. “I agree, partner. And we're gonna need focus. I get the feeling things are about to heat up.” The sun had just stuck its head over the rolling ocean when the task force gathered for a quick briefing. “The snipers are already in position.” Castillo pointed to a building almost 800 yards from the dock. “They went in during the night and have the meeting location in view. You have almost total coverage. The only spot they can't overwatch is the far side of the boat shed. Try to avoid it if you can.” Tubbs gave a low whistle. “Already in position? Damn. These are some hard-core dudes.” “That team I worked with would wait days if they needed to. Total professionals.” Sonny shook his head. “Scary as hell sometimes, but total professionals.” Trudy nodded. “They'll let us know when Reno's security comes on station, too. Stan has secure communications with them.” Sonny looked across the table at Switek. “Any chatter we need to know about?” “Nothing out of the ordinary. Reno and this Tio burned up the lines a bit last night around midnight, mostly working out where Tio's boys would meet Reno with the product and how many would be there.” Stan looked at his scribbled notes. “Sorry...I've been transcribing cokehead Spanish since three this morning. I'd say you're looking at maybe six shooters and Reno. He didn't want Tio at the meet, and he hasn't said a word to Nicky, either.” “What about the cocaine?” Castillo leaned forward. “That's our real target.” “His talk about that is way more routine. It's positioned to move from three warehouses.” Stan chuckled. “One by land and two by sea unless you change it up on him. DEA has assets in place to make the pickups posing as Burnett's people. Looks like a hundred keys at each location. His normal drill is to give a buyer the locations and get half the money up front. Once the pickup is made the second payment goes through.” “Good. I can call 'my people' from the car.” Sonny reached under his jacket, feeling the big 4506 riding in his shoulder rig. “Sounds like we're about ready.” “Wait.” Castillo's voice was low and allowed for no dispute. “This is our first real operation. Things need to go smoothly if we want to take down Maynard. Our objective is the cocaine deal first, the heroin second. If he makes trouble, let the heroin go for now. We can try for it again later if we have to. We need to prove this works.” Sonny nodded, seeing the quick stab of pain in Trudy's eyes. “Understood, lieutenant. I think we can swing both, but the coke comes first.” “Solid.” Tubbs nodded as well. “But Cooper can dangle a big enough carrot in front of his nose that the chump won't be able to resist.” “Take no chances. The objective is to get Pedrosa or Moncado at the next buy. Whoever's next in line.” Castillo looked at each detective in turn, making sure they understood. He took extra seconds with Trudy. “We will take out the heroin,” he said in a low voice. “You have my word. It just might take longer.” “I understand.” She nodded, but Sonny could see tears welling in her eyes. “I do.” “Weapons check in five.” Sonny took control as soon as Castillo looked down. “Better get that six-gun of yours oiled, partner.” It was a ritual he followed before every big meet...every possible bust. Sonny Crockett ejected the magazines from the Smith & Wesson 4506 under his arm and the Detonics at his ankle along with the chambered round in each weapon. Then he went over them carefully, working the slides, reloading each magazine, making sure everything was clean and feeding properly. Then the magazines went back in, he worked the slide on each pistol to chamber a fresh round, then pushed the safety up on the Detonics and down on the 4506. Just like a race driver he took no shortcuts with the tools of his trade. In the end he looked at both pistols sitting on the table, waiting to go back in their holsters. The stainless steel .45 ACPs, one big and one small, picked up and reflected shards of light from the overhead fixtures. They looked to be waiting for him, even though he knew both were inanimate objects incapable of any kind of feeling. His mind knew that. His heart knew otherwise. Shaking his head, he holstered both weapons and turned to where Tubbs was completing his own checks. “Ready to go, partner?” “As ready as I'll ever be.” Grinning, Tubbs jammed his compact .38 Smith & Wesson into a hip holster and hefted his cutdown pump shotgun. “Just in case I need more than two shots this time out.” “Yeah. With any luck they won't ever see the light of day.” He slipped on a dark linen blazer and with it the skin of Burnett. “Looks like we got an hour until the meet. Take us about half that to get there.” “Solid. I'll check comms with Stan one more time.” Nodding, Sonny looked across the room and spotted Trudy coming out of Castillo's office. “Anything new for us?” “No, Sonny. Reno's on his way to the meeting spot now. We think he's picking up this Tio on the way, but that could change. Stan says there's lots of disorganized chatter there.” “Good.” He moved closer, seeing faint fear in her eyes. “Don't worry, darlin'. It's a walk in the park, and with those two covering us there's nothing to worry about.” “It's not that. Sonny...Martin and I...” “I know. And I'm glad.” He raised his hand when she started to speak. “Hear me out, Trudy. Please. The two of you have suffered. God knows how much. I know what I found with Caitlin, and if you and Marty think you found that, grab it with both damned hands and never let go. Same thing I told Stan and Gina last night.” He thought of the ring on the chain under his shirt. “Never let go if you find it,” he repeated, turning away before his eyes betrayed him. The hot Miami sun beat down on the Ferrari as it whipped in and out of Miami traffic heading east to the docks. Sonny focused mostly on driving, avoiding the old women doddering along in their Lincolns mixed in with work trucks and the inevitable taxis. “Damn tourists,” he muttered, downshifting and cutting off a taxi hogging the left lane while doing well under the speed limit. “You need to chill, partner. Be glad you ain't in New York. We'd still be nine blocks back waiting for the light to change.” “I know, Tubbs.” Sonny grinned, mashing down on the accelerator and feeling the Ferrari surge forward into a brief gap in the traffic. “Just getting the game face on.” “You expecting trouble?” “Naw. Not on a first buy.” He gestured toward the metal briefcase on the floor between Tubbs' knees. “Still, that much green might make someone anxious.” “Or greedy. Like Tio.” “Could be. We don't know him. He's not part of Maynard's network so he's not going to be disciplined.” Sonny downshifted again and cut around another lumbering taxi. “At least ol' Captain Real Estate keeps his thugs in line.” “Sounds like you got a plan.” “Not really. But if things go south that sniper will start dropping threats. That will confuse Reno's security. If it comes to it, try to grab Reno alive and get him out of there. We pose as his saviors...” “He'll owe us big time. And so will Moncado and this chump Pedrosa. But what if the sniper takes him out?” “He'll engage threats. They work in pairs so one can spot targets for the other. And I don't see Reno running toward the sound of the guns. They'll also have orders to avoid shooting us.” He grinned. “That's why I went basic black today.” “And here I thought it was because you finally got some fashion sense.” Tubbs was about to say something else when the car phone buzzed. He answered, listened for a few seconds, and hung up. “That was Castillo. Reno and his boys are in position.” Crockett parked the Ferrari at the street end of the dock a few minutes before noon. Heat shimmered off the dark asphalt, and he prepared himself for the blast when he opened the door. Through the waves he could see men clustered around an awning-shaded table halfway down the dock. “Showtime,” he muttered to Tubbs as he stepped out, feeling the heat from the parking lot baking through the soles of his shoes. They were halfway down the dock when Reno waved. “Mr. Cooper! Burnett! Hell of a day, ain't it? Can't get enough of this South Florida sunshine!” “Says the man hiding under an umbrella,” Tubbs muttered before returning the wave with a half-gesture of his hand. “Just tell me everything's set and the day will get better.” Crockett surveyed the group from behind his sunglasses. “That skinny punk must be Tio. Looks like he's got two shooters with him. From the way Reno's boys are posted they don't trust Tio.” Tubbs inclined his head to show he'd heard, then stopped. “Who's the chump who looks like he needs a bath? I don't like strange faces when I do business, Reno.” Reno raised his hand, stopping Tio from saying or doing something stupid. “Didn't Burnett tell you? This is the guy with the H you were looking for. Your broker would have come to me, so this takes out the middle man and his commission.” “I told him, Reno, but Mr. Cooper still ain't into new faces. They handle things different in New York, I hear.” Sonny stepped closer and favored them with one of his thin Burnett grins. “Can't say he's wrong about you needing a bath, though, pal. And you'd best tell your date on the right to stop moving for that gun in his waistband or I'll blow his kneecap off.” “Tio, control your people.” Reno's voice was a bark. “Burnett here takes security seriously.” He waved toward the shaded table. “Now why don't we sit down and be gentlemen about this?” Sonny only paid partial attention to the dickering at the table. The deal was Tubbs' world, and he was damned good at it. But the more Sonny watched him, the more he didn't trust Tio. Dealers who used their own product were never safe bets, and Tio's sunken eyes and pale skin spoke to heavy use. Junkies were unpredictable at best, and the way Tio's eyes kept darting from the silver case to his men and back again kept Crockett on edge. Without looking he knew the sniper had a clear shot at all three, and he also knew the spotter was watching the whole thing go down through a high-powered spotting scope. “...So we're agreed you can handle one unit moving by land and two by sea.” Reno looked up at Tubbs. “What do you think, Burnett?” Sonny brought himself back to the deal. “Yeah. No problem. Equal weight?” Reno shook his head. “No. Two hundred by land and fifty each over the water.” “Even better. All I need are the locations and it's as good as done.” He took a step toward the table. “My best guy will be overseeing one personally. Just to make sure things go as advertised. You don't need to know which one.” “You're right. I don't. Because there will be no problems.” Tubbs nodded. “Half down, the other half by wire when the last load's picked up.” “Agreed.” Reno pulled two slips of paper out of his pocket. “Bank info's there, along with the locations for you, Burnett.” “Are they all ready to go?” “Yep. Your people just need to say they're picking up Cooper's dry cleaning.” “Good.” Sonny took the paper with the addresses. “I'll send my people to one now. Good faith.” “Of course.” Reno leaned back in his chair with a grin on his face. “Do what you gotta do.” “What about my business?” It was the first time Tio spoke, and his voice confirmed Sonny's thoughts about a dealer using his own product. “We'll get to that as soon as Burnett makes his call.” Back at the Ferrari, Crockett used the car phone to relay the location of one of the waterfront warehouses. “Should be fifty keys of coke. Say you're there for Cooper's dry cleaning. Make it quick, too. They're waiting on us. Yeah...page me when it's secure.” Turning back toward the table, he could see Tio waving his arms and the hot breeze carried snatches of shouted words back toward the lot. Damn it. Don't have a junkie meltdown now, you moron. When he got in ear range he could hear Tubbs' voice rising. “You better get your man under control, Reno. My people don't like loose cannons, and this chump is starting to get on my damned nerves!” Sonny could feel his heart pounding, and focused his entire being on slowing it down. Instead of running, he walked up on the scene, his right hand inside the left front of his blazer. “What isthis, Reno? I turn my back for ten seconds and your boy here starts making waves? If you can't control him, I will.” Tio had wild hair and crazy eyes accented by swirling tribal circles tattooed around the sockets, making them look almost skeletal in the bright Miami sun. “You don't tell me, man! I...” He screamed as the 4506 cracked down on his wrist, trapped in Sonny's strong left hand grip. “Either of you move you're dead where you stand.” Sonny looked from Tio's first man to the second. “And then your boss gets his. Low, where it hurts and he spends the rest of his life crapping in a bag in a chair.” Tio's voice was a soprano squeak. “Easy, man. Easy. We all good here.” Reno's eyes were wide. “He's on his own, Burnett. Cooper and I were talking business and he went crazy.” “That's what happens when you try the party favors.” Crockett looked into Tio's eyes, seeing pain and fear and pinpoint heroin pupils. He could smell the rank junkie sweat pouring off the man. Sneering under his sunglasses he stuffed the big stainless steel pistol back into his shoulder rig and tossed Tio to the boards like a soggy bag of trash. “Be glad you're Reno's guest. Otherwise you'd be dead.” He turned back to Reno, ignoring the sobbing wreck at his feet. “My people are on their way to the first location. They'll page once they've got the cargo loaded and then I'll call in the other two.” “Sounds fair.” Tubbs looked from Reno to Tio and back. “I'll overlook this little problem provided everything else goes smooth. But I still need that other product. Can't say I have much faith in your supplier, though.” “He's not my supplier. He just stored it.” Reno looked back at his men. “Get this piece of garbage out of here. His boys give you any trouble, hurt them.” “And that's the pager. Looks like everything's golden. I'll make the calls.” Tubbs nodded. “So will I. You'll have the money within the hour. We'll talk later about that other business.” “So Tio's out?” Castillo looked up from the reports laid out on the table. “What does that leave us?” “Quiet a bit, lieutenant.” Tubbs grinned. “Reno was so embarrassed he offered up pretty much his whole stock for a song. I've got the buy money request ready to go. He bought that I needed to get in touch with my people in New York.” “Hell, he would have bought the damned Brooklyn Bridge.” Sonny chuckled, pushing Burnett back down deep inside. “He was just glad Burnett didn't shoot Tio and his boys out of hand.” He looked at his own notes. “All three shipments were picked up clean.” “And the wire transfers went through. We've got Reno any time we want him.” “Not yet. I want that heroin and we need the next link in the chain.” “Reno said he'd call my hotel as soon he confirmed the transfers.” Stan nodded. “Call came through about five minutes back. Chez Bug Van might not have room service but it has a good switchboard. He left a callback number.” “Good. I'll hit him up in the morning.” “Keep at it.” Castillo looked up and gave the team a quick smile. “I'll be keeping that sniper team on call until this operation's over.” “Did Trudy ever track down Manny?” “She's out talking to the girl now. We should hear back by the end of the day.” Castillo gathered up the reports. “Do you really think Moreno is worth finding?” “I do.” Crockett closed his notebook. “Izzy's an annoying little rat, but he knows damned near everything that goes on out there. With Noogie gone, he's all we have left. If this Pedrosa's a player Izzy might have heard of him.” “I'll keep listening, lieutenant. See if Reno's boys let anything slip.” “Focus on any mention of Pedrosa. We need more on him.” Castillo stood up. “I'll reach out again and see if any other agencies are tracking him.” “Good idea.” Crockett got to his feet as well, suddenly wanting out of the office. The air and space of the boat was calling for no reason he could determine. “If he's really this Moncado's point man for South Florida he must have popped on someone's radar.” Turning, he headed for the door. “I'll be on the boat if anyone needs me.” “Care for some company?” Tubbs asked as he got up. “It's been a couple of days since an alligator tried to take a chunk out of me.” “Aw, why the hell not, Tubbs. Let's blow this pop stand.” “Can you believe that chump almost blew the whole deal?” Tubbs let cigar smoke trickle through his lips into the cooling night air. The sun was a red memory on the western horizon, and the St. Vitus Dancebobbed gently beside the pier. Crockett shook his head. “That's what happens when the dealer starts using the product. Doesn't say much for Reno that he didn't notice.” “Yeah. That chump's strictly small time who got promoted above his ability.” “Maybe that's it.” Sonny lit a Lucky Strike with a battered Ronsen lighter and drew the smoke in to punctuate his thought. “Maybe he waspromoted. Maybe this Pedrosa used to be Reno and moved up the food chain. That might explain why he's not coming up on searches.” “Right. We were thinking he was big time before. If he was small time and proved himself...” “He'd be almost invisible to the Feds. Hell, there's so many small time players down here we don't even know who they all are.” “We should let Castillo know.” “Plenty of time for that in the morning, Tubbs. You call the man now, he'd head right for the office.” Sonny let the smoke hiss out through his nostrils. “Let him enjoy his time away.” “Yeah...I get it. Trudy's got that girl looking for Manny and...” “Joo got it, man.” Sonny chuckled as he imitated Izzy's accent. “Although we might want to think about what might happen if Tio tries to deal himself back in.” “You think he will?” “He sure as hell could. I can't see a junkie like him walking away from free access to a supply like he had. He didn't seem too scared of Reno, that's for sure.” “No, he didn't. Burnett's another story, though.” “Yeah, and cowards like him are dangerous. He's a junkie, which makes him unpredictable on top of everything else.” Sonny leaned back on the settee cushions, smiling as he heard Elvis snuffling up on the bow. “Maybe Metro-Dade can pick him up once we scoop up the heroin.” “If he waits that long. The damned ball's in his court now. All I'm saying is watch your back until we have the heroin.” “That's assuming Reno doesn't have him whacked.” Sonny sighed, looking at the glowing end of his cigarette. “I don't think he will, Rico. Reno's not a tough guy, no matter how much he acts the part. He knows Tio from somewhere in his past, and that will make it hard for him to have the trigger pulled. If he wanted to hit the little punk, I think he would have done it on the dock to show us how tough he is.” “Yeah.” Tubbs slapped at a bug that had been buzzing around his face. “Next time we go to my pad, Sonny. You should see the place.” “Another of those no-tell motels with tissue paper walls?” “No, man. Castillo did me right this time. I got a penthouse in one of those new towers. Views all around, central air, Jacuzzi tub. No bugs trying to steal your drink.” Tubbs laughed, the sound echoing out over the water. “All it needs is about four pretty ladies lounging on the couches.” “Sounds like Cooper finally hit the big time.” “Yeah, and we need to use that to get to Pedrosa. Somehow.” “Reno can only handle so much weight. We know that. We need to find his max load and push past it.” “Or make it look like he can't handle the job. Maybe use this chump Tio somehow.” “Or the heroin.” Sonny took a final drag on his cigarette before crushing it out. “If Pedrosa came up through Mondaco's organization and wasn't moving H, he's not going to be happy when he finds out Reno is. We'll keep our options open until we find out more about Pedrosa.” “Do you really think this will track us back to Maynard?” “I hope so, Rico. That man's got a lot to answer for.” “He's a smart cat, though. Keeps himself well-insulated.” “Yeah, but Castillo's got a good plan. He needs money to buy his guns and mercs. If we break the money supply, he has to come out in the open to fix it. He can always find another arms dealer. But a good narcotics pipeline takes time to set up and run, especially one that can move the weight Reno's got right now. I'm guessing Maynard doesn't have that kind of time.” “You think he was involved in Costa Morada?” “At some level I'm sure he was. Guys like Maynard don't like sitting on the sidelines if there's a way they can get in the game. And back in Nam he had his finger in everything. Don't see any reason to think that's changed.” Sonny looked out over the water, picking out the blinking running lights of sailboats and the faster, darting ones on cigarette boats. I wonder how many of them are running something? Bringing something in or taking something out?“We'll get him, Rico.” Trudy was practically hopping from one foot to the other when Crockett and Tubbs checked in the next day. “Carmello called this morning,” she said with a smile. “Manny's working the track tomorrow afternoon. He always works Fridays because it's payday.” “And let me guess...she always meets him right after work when he cashes that check.” Tubbs snapped his fingers and grinned. “True love right there.” “Consider who he learned from.” Crockett sank back in his chair, a cup of Stan's coffee close at hand. “You get a chance to hit up Reno?” Tubbs nodded. “Oh, yeah. He was all apologies about Tio, and you can bet I ripped him a new one over the whole thing. But it sounds like he got the stash back somehow. Twenty kilos of heroin. He claims it's top Golden Triangle product but I doubt it.” Stan nodded, munching on a donut as he flipped through the call logs. “Yeah. He's too small time, and trying to move that kind of product would attract Maynard's attention faster than flying the Commie flag from the White House. He did make five calls to the sewer Tio calls home before he talked to you, though. Two after that to one of his crew bosses. He was done by midnight.” “Yeah. He did say he wants to take care of this deal before our next big one, though. Makes me think his boss doesn't know what he's up to.” Castillo came out of his office, his face grimmer than usual. “We have new intel on Pedrosa. He was the street man before he moved up. The Feds haven't picked up on him yet, but Metro-Dade has a thick file. Pedrosa's a nasty customer. They have him linked to at least ten narcotics-related homicides and a number of other active investigations. Up until about six months ago he was doing what Reno is doing now. And they never linked him to any heroin. Pedrosa's hits were always about cocaine. None of the charges ever stuck.” “Any way to get to him?” “No.” Castillo sat down before looking at Tubbs. “He seems well-insulated. Metro-Dade doesn't have much on him that's newer than four months out, but they think he has a small cadre of shooters around him and some administrative support. Accountants, drivers, lawyer, that kind of thing. If he's expanding his street network they haven't picked it up yet.” “I'll shift our collection efforts.” Stan started sketching on his note pad. “Do they have any addresses for him?” “Yes. I'll get Federal warrants for you. As soon as those are in place...” “I know, lieutenant. Make it happen. I'll make it happen. I may have to pull some of the higher-end stuff off Reno, though.” “No problem.” Crockett looked for Castillo's short nod before continuing. “We've got Reno where we want him. As soon as we get that heroin he's history. It's more important to know if there are other Renos out there.” Stan nodded and was about to get up when the multi-line phone on the table jangled for his attention. Looking at the flashing light, he smiled. “Well, well. Chez Bug Van. Looks like Reno wants to talk to Rico.” “I got it.” Tubbs reached out and selected the line before picking up the phone. “Cooper....Yeah, Reno...My partners are interested, but they need a quality check first...That's how it is. Take it or leave it...We don't buy sight unseen, especially when you've got ODs popping up like dandelions down here...I read the papers, chump. That's how I know. We don't need that kind of problem up there...You want to move it, this is how it goes. You bring the whole shipment, I pick out two keys from the whole thing. We test it, and if it's clean we take the whole shipment. If it's not clean we're having a whole different conversation.” When Tubbs finally hung up, Crockett chuckled. “He buy that?” “He didn't want to, but what choice does he have? He tries to move that product here, Pedrosa finds out. Now that he's taken Tio out of the game he's screwed himself.” “When does the deal go down?” “Tonight. I'm calling him back to get a place and dollar amount.” “I'll have the money ready.” “Solid. Stan, let me know if any of the intel changes.” “I expect you'll want Burnett on hand.” “Yeah. Reno seems to appreciate your charming personality.” Tubbs chuckled. Castillo nodded. “Trudy, I'd like you to take a look at what we got from Metro-Dade. Compare it to what we have on Reno's network and find some gaps.” “You got it, lieutenant.” She smiled, getting up from the table. “I'll try working up a couple of scenarios to show us what the network might look like if we shut Reno down, too. I might need Stan's help with some of that, though.” “Make it happen. We need to be two steps ahead on this one.” “I second that. If Moncado's fronting for Maynard he's not going to be a fool. Maynard doesn't suffer fools gladly or for very damned long.” Crockett pushed back from the table. “Come on, Rico. Let's go sniff around before you have to call Reno and set things up. We'll check in once we have the details, lieutenant.” It was still cool in the underground garage, but the close air hinted at the heat to come. Tubbs adjusted his tie and looked over at Crockett with a grin. “Gray instead of black today. Is that the kinder, gentler Burnett look?” “Naw, it's the 'I don't want to bathe in my own sweat' look.” Sonny chuckled and unlocked the Ferrari. “I don't know how you can stand those monkey suits when it's like this.” “I draw inspiration from the lieutenant. He never sweats, and he wears those mortician rigs every day.” “Yeah. But he's not human.” Sonny smiled as he turned the key and the Ferrari roared to life. “No, I take that back. When he looks at Trudy you can damned well see he's human.” “So what's the plan?” “See and be seen, Rico. You can call Reno from the car. Just call Stan first and he'll make sure the hotel number comes up if Reno's checking. And maybe we should stop by your hotel just in case the little punk left you chocolates or flowers.” “Yeah. Maybe I should check out, too. Give Reno fits if the little chump's watching that.” Crockett nodded, easing the car into mid-morning Miami traffic. “Yeah. Also makes it look like you're here for the long haul and not just a long weekend. Could be useful when we switch to Moncado or this Pedrosa.” “Pedrosa looks like the muscle. The cat who keeps the mice in line for the bigger cat. Dangerous when let off his leash.” “Yep. And that's why we need to take him down before going near Moncado.” Sonny shuddered, his mind flashing back to El Gato and his end in the cat cage. Another Burnett memory he tried to keep buried with mixed success. They were like watching a jerky old movie that had been cut and spliced randomly back together. Skips, jumps, and then one vivid scene followed by more skips and jumps. “Where is Cooper supposed to be staying this time?” “The Plaza. Down by the water. One of those rooms with a good view of the bikinis on the beach.” “I should have known. But the trick isn't seeing the bikinis, Tubbs. It's getting them off.” “You got that right, white bread. Now we'd best get to the hotel before I start doing my Noogie impersonation.” One of the new hotels springing up on the bones of older deco spots, the Plaza boasted valet parking and overpriced umbrella drinks to tempt tourists though the doors. Crockett grimaced as he handed the keys over to an eager kid in a red tux that looked like it hadn't been cleaned since its last senior prom appearance. “Keep it close, short stuff. We won't be here long.” The lobby glittered with polished steel and cut glass, making up in shine what it lacked in character. Tubbs went into New York City mode, plowing through the tourists by the elevators like a man on a mission. Crockett followed in his wake, scanning the crowd behind his sunglasses looking for anything out of the ordinary. Something about hotels always set him on edge, especially crowded new ones. Tubbs' room was on the eighth floor, and it didn't take long for Rico to fill his two leather suitcases and call the front desk. “This is Mr. Cooper in 824. I'm checking out....Yeah run the card I gave you. I'll leave the keys in the room. You can send the bill to my New York address.” “New York address?” “Yeah. It gets sent right back to the cover operation here.” Tubbs grinned, closing the locks on his bigger case with a firm click. “One of Castillo's touches. Slick as hell.” “That man doesn't miss a trick.” Crockett looked around the suite, checking both the bedroom and sitting area. He'd already disconnected Stan's phone relay device and stuffed it in the smaller of Tubbs' bags. “You got everything?” “Yeah. Let's skip the desk and get the hell out.” They were walking to the elevators when Crockett spotted two men in baggy suit coats coming down the hall toward them. “We got company,” he muttered, reaching under his own coat and unsnapping the strap holding his 4506 in its shoulder rig. Tubbs nodded, pausing to check his tie line in the reflection thrown by a fire extinguisher box. “Two behind. One looks like Tio.” “It's a hit.” As Crockett watched, one of the men in front started reaching under the baggy jacket, going for something stuffed in his waistband. Light from the overhead fluorescents glittered off metal, and Sonny went into pure reflex mode. The Plaza's room doors were set back almost a foot from the corridor walls, making the doorways usable cover. Before he realized it the big Smith & Wesson filled his hand, left hand closing over the right in a perfect controlled shooing stance. Even now, years later, he could still hear the drill instructor's barked command 'front sight, girls! Front sight!' and he fired two shots as soon as the black blade came to rest on the first gunman's chest. Red blood sprayed through the air and the shattered body spun away even as he pivoted and fired two more times, dropping the second gunman. The dead man's finger tightened on the trigger of his Beretta, and the bullet blasted a hole in the floor three feet in front of the body. Behind him he could just hear Tubbs' .38 barking through the ringing in his ears, and he felt his shoulder thud off the room door as he used the setback as cover. Looking back, Sonny saw one body crumpled in the hall, staining the brownish carpet black with blood. Tubbs hunkered in a doorway just down the hall, his stubby revolver trained just past the body. “Tio's down there!” he shouted, gesturing toward a doorway. Sonny nodded, steadying his 4506. They had seconds left before someone responded, and he didn't want to blow their cover. He saw a flash of ratty, greasy hair as Tio broke cover, and the .45 boomed twice more. Tio's scream died as quickly as it was born, and his body crashed to the floor. A cheap 9mm fell from his dead hand and slid a few more inches before stopping. Over the echoes of the shots Crockett could hear what sounded like a fire alarm and screams. The acrid, familiar smell of burned gunpowder filled his nose. “Check the bodies?” “No time, partner. Unless we want to spend time with Metro-Dade.” Tubbs grabbed his suitcases. “I'd say we take the stairs.” “Were you followed?” Castillo waited until Tubbs and Crockett finished outlining the shooting before asking the question. “No. I don't think so.” Tubbs shook his head. “Reno knew I was staying there. Or at least he'd figure that out from the number I gave him. Tio might have overhead something.” “I can't see Reno sending him to hit us.” Crockett sat in one of the chairs on the far side of the long table, rubbing his eyes with this thumb and index finger. “Not with future shipments on the line. Plus it was the same goofballs Tio had with him at that meeting.” “I'll have our liaison smooth things over with Metro-Dade. You'll need to do full reports, and they might send someone down to speak with you both if there are any questions. But this doesn't interfere with our operation.” “Solid.” Tubbs snapped his fingers. “Now I'm gonna call Reno and light his ass on fire.” Stan looked up from his seat at the table. “Use line six on the big phone. It's configured to look like a pay phone if Reno's checking at all.” While Tubbs shouted down the phone line, pummeling Reno with New York insults and threatening to close down the deal altogether, Sonny looked over at Castillo. “Is this shooting really going to close this easily? No Internal Affairs? No modified duty?” “No. The Task Force has different rules. If they decide you acted inappropriately or used poor judgement, they'll pull you. But there were no bystanders. No civilians were hurt.” “No. We just went down a couple of floors and took the elevator to the lobby. Picked up the Ferrari and drove away like tourists checking out.” “Switek has the second office set up as an armory. You can clean your weapons there. I expect a draft of your report before your meeting with Reno tonight.” “You'll have it.” Sonny grinned, nodding toward Tubbs who was still shouting into the phone. “Unless my partner over there reaches through the phone and rips his head off first.” Tubbs sent one more stream of curses blasting over the phone lines before he slammed the receiver down and grinned. “Reno's gonna need a new pair of boxers after that. He says he didn't know anything about Tio's hit, which I believe. Then he tried to spin some tale about the heroin being too hot to move now. That's when I told him if he couldn't make this work tonight I was taking all my toys and going home. He's giving us the whole stash for ten grand cash.” “Their network must be more overloaded than we thought if he'll take that kind of loss to keep you in the game.” Castillo rubbed his eyes. “Switek, monitor Reno's communications closely. I want to know who he's reaching out to and what's happening. Tubbs, the buy money will be ready in an hour. I want your draft report before the meeting. And get the location as soon as you can. I want that sniper team in position to overwatch.” “You heard the man, Tubbs. Let's get the guns cleaned and get to writing. I've got a fresh box of crayons in case you broke yours.” “At least I don't eat mine.” Tubbs laughed and slapped Crockett on the shoulder. Cleaning his pistol had always been one of Sonny's ways of dealing with the stress of a shooting. The simple, mechanical act of breaking down, scrubbing, oiling, and reassembling a pistol always steadied his nerves and focused his thoughts. Shrugging off the gray blazer, he sat down at the makeshift workbench Stan had assembled and got to work. Tubbs had less to do with his revolver, but he still used the time to focus. For a time only the click and scrape of metal on metal filled the air, competing with the low hiss of the central air system. The sharp tang of solvent and gun oil filled their noses, overcoming any lingering traces of gunpower and blood. Finally Tubbs chuckled. “I should have left a tip for the cleaning crew. They must hate us by now.” “Yeah, but Local 798 or whoever will love us. I bet they re-carpet the whole floor.” “Once Metro-Dade's crime boys get done tromping around I bet you're right.” Sonny nodded as he slipped the recoil spring back onto the guide rod and locked it under the Smith & Wesson's barrel. “They won't have a choice. Those clowns will cut up half the carpet, ruin the rest with some damn concoction or another, and then say they can't even type the blood.” Slotting the barrel and rod assembly back into the slide, he slid the whole thing back onto the frame and pulled the slide almost all the way back, pushing the slide release pin through before letting it slam back into place. “At least we don't have to lie on the beach waiting for Internal Affairs to discover we're not really Columbian drug lords.” “Amen to that, partner.” Tubbs snapped the cylinder closed on his Chief's Special. “It was a good shoot, though.” “Yeah. We didn't have much of a choice. Tio and his boys were there for one reason only – to put us in the ground. I wonder if they planned to catch us in the hall or the room?” “I don't know. They might not have thought that far ahead.” “Yeah.” Sonny sighed as he locked a full magazine into the butt of his pistol and worked the slide a final time to feed a round into the chamber. Then he switched on the safety and stuffed the big gun back into his shoulder holster and shrugged on his blazer. “We'd better get to writing.” “We'll need the boat.” Tubbs shook his head as he hung up the phone. “Reno wants to do the deal on the water. Out by one of the Key islands. Some cabin cruiser he's got.” Castillo shook his head. “I can't cover you out there.” Trudy, out of one of the side offices, raised her hand. “I can tag along, lieutenant. What's a major player from New York doing on the water without female company in the first place?” “How did he sound?” “Anxious, Sonny. He wants this deal bad.” Stan flipped through his notes. “Rico's right, lieutenant. I've got a series of calls to a new number, one I'm guessing is Pedrosa's. There was a lot of chatter about a new, high-volume contract. Clearing the warehouses for the next shipment. Reno's making promises he can only keep if Rico's still in the game. If he's not, Reno's screwed and he knows it.” Sonny could almost hear the whirring of Castillo's computer-like mind. He never took long with decisions like this. “Do it. Joplin, draw three assault rifles from the armory. You might need some firepower. There will be no back-up, so plan accordingly. Switek and I might be able to get close, but if it's on the water that won't be easy.” “No. Not without drawing too much attention.” Sonny scratched his chin, feeling the stubble flex under his fingers. “I still say the meet's worth the risk. We get the heroin and maybe a way to knock Reno off his perch.” Stan cleared his throat. “What about a fake bust? The Coast Guard works that area all the time with their smaller boats. What if one of them just 'happens' to wander by?” Damn. Stan might be on to something. Sonny nodded. “They'd have to hit before the exchange was made. That would roll up the heroin, take Reno out of play, and give Pedrosa an incentive to reach out to us directly. Does he know who Cooper is at least?” “Yep. I've got Reno on tape confirming Cooper's name and your pager number to Pedrosa. It was before we knew Pedrosa's name, but he's got your information for sure.” “I'll be using the cigarette boat, lieutenant. I can outrun the coasties without it looking like they let me get away. If Reno's using a cabin cruiser there's no way he's getting out of it.” “What time's the meeting?” “Midnight.” Tubbs scribbled on one of the notepads scattered on the conference table. “Here's the coordinates Reno gave me.” Trudy shifted in her chair, her short blue dress pulling tight across her body. “We can see if the Coast Guard can help, but plan to go ahead with the deal in case they can't.” “I'll make a call.” Castillo got up. “We've got ten hours before the meeting. The buy money will be here in twenty minutes. Crockett, Tubbs, get those report drafts done.” Stan chuckled. “I remember when we'd still be waiting on the forms for the buy money and would have to scrub any meeting.” Trudy nodded. “Not to mention warrants for the wires. Now we get those in hours instead of days. And the arms room! I think we have more in there than Metro-Dade's SWAT team does.” Reaching into his blazer pocket, Sonny pulled out a pack of Lucky Strikes and his battered lighter. “Yeah, but what's the cost? Any time you deal with the Feds there's a cost. Granted Marty knows that better than any of us do, but you always gotta wonder when the bill's coming due with those jokers.” “Deniability.” Tubbs looked up from the report form. “They can always hold up their hands and claim we're just a bunch of rogue local cops who didn't know when to quit.” Drawing the smoke into his lungs, Sonny stared at the glowing tip of the filterless cigarette. “Yeah, I know, Rico. Just no one forget we're the only ones who have our backs this time out. Speaking of which, I'd like to meet this sniper team sometime. Check 'em out and see which team they're playing for when the shit hits the fan.” Trudy smiled. “I met them when they first checked in. Quiet guys. Very serious. I'll let them know you'd like a meet.” “Thanks, Trudy.” Grimacing, Sonny looked down at his own form. “Now I'd better finish this or I won't get to go out and play tonight.” The buy money arrived on schedule, delivered by a gray man in a gray suit who vanished back into the elevator with no trace of his visit. Seconds later Castillo came out of his office. “The Coast Guard will try to have one of their counter-narcotics boats on station but can't guarantee anything.” “Maybe we should just call them off, then. If they can't make the hit on time there's no point.” Stan's frown disappeared from his face. “I think I can make this work. We've got a handful of transponders that send on military-only frequencies. We'll take one on the boat, and turn it off just before we close up to make the deal. That way they can track us in, and will know to turn on the party favors. If they're not close enough, we just go ahead and make the deal.” “Hell of an idea, Stan. So long as the swabbies don't wait too long.” “I'll call them back and see what they can do.” Castillo collected the draft reports and allowed his two detectives a thin smile. “Now get those rifles ready to go.”