The More Things Change...(Part XIII)

[Robbie C.]

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.”

Edited June 28, 2019 by Robbie C.

[mjcmmv]

Wow! That was quite a ride!!!