The More Things Change...(Part VII)

[Robbie C.]

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.”

 

[mjcmmv]

Looks like we have a leak to worry about. I don't want to say more and spoil it for others. 

Like the two new characters, Randy and Dave. I also like their connection to Castillo. Nice touch!

Edited June 20, 2019 by mjcmmv