The More Things Change...(Part IX)

[Robbie C.]

“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!”