The More Things Change...(Part XVI)

[Robbie C.]

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.

[vicegirl85]

I love the way you have weaved different aspects of the past into this story, and looking forward to the rest (although sometimes I want to put my hands over my eyes!).

[Robbie C.]

The past is prologue, as many historians like to say. I think it's hard (or should be hard) to tell Vice stories without weaving the past into them. So many things the writers never explored that we get the chance to now...

[mjcmmv]

3 hours ago, vicegirl85 said:

I love the way you have weaved different aspects of the past into this story, and looking forward to the rest (although sometimes I want to put my hands over my eyes!).

i hear you!!! 

[mjcmmv]

5 hours ago, Robbie C. said:

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.

"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."

Great line!!!