Echoes - Part II

[Robbie C.]

Ricardo Tubbs slipped out of his suit coat and hung it on a hanger in the closet by the door to Casa Cooper. Reaching up, he undid his tie and draped it precisely over the back of a chair. Only then did he sigh and allow himself to relax.

Sonny in charge! He was still trying to wrap his head around it. Not that he thought Crockett was a bad choice. His partner was all heart when it came to some things, and Rico knew he wouldn't take any dumb chances. Not now, at least. Two years ago he wouldn't have been so sure.

He looked down at his side, seeing the familiar black rubber grips of his Smith & Wesson. After the fight in the Keys he'd decided he needed something more. If they were stepping up, six shots might not be enough, and .38 just might not cut it, either. But it was tough. He'd used the same pistol since he left uniform patrol in the Bronx. Still, he figured if Sonny could man up and apologize to Switek he could switch pistols. It was just a matter of sitting down with Dave and Randy and picking their brains.

Pouring himself a drink, Rico kicked off his shoes and walked over to the big plate glass windows. The air coming through the central ducts felt good, and he knew if he stepped outside he'd be bathed in sweat inside of two seconds. But at least from here he could see night claiming the city. And think about his next move.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever call Debbie again. She was a sweet girl, no question. Nice, smart, and pretty as hell. Just the kind of girl New York Cooper would want on his arm. But Rico wasn't sure that was what he wanted. The scotch bit his tongue as he took a sip. Hell, most days he wasn't sure what he wanted.

Seeing Marty shot had been a wake-up call for him. If the Job could reach out and touch Castillo, it would be a small thing for it to do the same to Ricardo Tubbs. He wasn't going to quit. Hell, he'd already sailed that ship out, turned it around and come right back. But Rico knew he needed to find what was right for him.

So far the Task Force suited him down to the ground. They could move fast and loose, with general targets and nothing more than a 'go get 'em' for orders. It was what happened after, when they left the office and scattered to the wind, that gave Rico pause.

He didn't know what the marshals did. Dave and Randy seemed to exist in their own little world, fueled by Hoppe's Number 9 and smokeless powder. Mindy, now she was a puzzle. Rico smiled as he thought of the red-headed marshal and her bright eyes. But not his puzzle. At least not yet.

His old OCB team was settling down. Stan had Gina, Marty and Trudy were the law enforcement power couple you didn't want to cross, and Sonny had his 'thing' with Jenny. How the hell Sonny kept managing to find the crazy was something Rico had wondered about ever since Margaret in New York City, but the bigger mystery was how he'd managed to avoid getting seriously burned by it. Only Rico still sailed alone.

But Castillo had promised to look into the mystery of Ricardo Calderone, Jr., for him. Rico looked out, not seeing the neon flickering on in a steady wave as shadows claimed the streets below. He knew Marty would keep his word, and that he'd know one way or the other. “One way or the other,” he whispered, finishing his drink and turning to pour another. Knowing would either give him something to aim for or let him close the door on that part of his life, depending on the answer.

Reaching into his pocket, Rico felt the slip of paper Sonny had handed him before the Keys fight. Maybe he would call Debbie after all. It just wasn't turning into a night he wanted to spend alone. But something stopped him as soon as his fingers touched the phone. Debbie was a nice girl. Robbie had gotten that right. Their one date had been fun, dinner and drinks followed by some dancing and a nice make-out session in the Caddy before he dropped her at her high-rise. But he could tell she was looking for more than a quick fling. Something in her eyes, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. And that wasn't something Rico was ready for. Not yet. And he sure as hell didn't want to start something by calling the other girl.

Stepping back, he looked down at his glass and smiled. “Guess it's you and me tonight, and maybe some crappy TV movie. Maybe I'll order a pizza and we can make a night of it.” Chuckling, he flopped down on the couch and tried to make the most of it. Once, in the middle of a commercial for some soda or another, he thought of Sonny and laughed. “I wonder what kind of mess he got himself into tonight,” he muttered around a big slice of cheese and onion pizza.

 

Morning found Sonny Crockett hunkered behind Castillo's desk going through a small stack of intelligence reports some clown had sent over from Metro-Dade's Gang Unit. 'Background' the note stuck inside the big manila envelope claimed, although he had his doubts. Gangs never got the pick of the litter, so he wasn't expecting much aside from maybe a neighborhood map or two and some tattoo pictures, along with 'profiles' of gang leaders so out of date they were worse than useless. At the very least he wanted to weed it before turning the rest over to Mindy and Trudy to generate good product.

Trudy smiled when she came in and saw him through the open office door. He shook his head. “Yeah, I know. I feel like I'm sitting in dad's good chair. I can't wait for him to get back so I don't have to see another stack of shit disguised as folders this thick.”

“Gangs?” She shook her head, her hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She looked like she'd actually slept more than three hours.

“Yeah. I think they just dumped their desks into that envelope and sent it all over. I'm getting rid of the crap, and then you and Mindy can have what passes for the good stuff.”

“Sounds good. Is Stan here yet?”

“No, but he should be in soon.” Sonny smiled. “It'll be good to have him back around the place. Him and Lester both. And they're going to flip when they see the new Bug Van.” He looked at her and lowered his voice. “How's Marty?”

“They should be sending him home in a couple of days. I hope.” She shrugged. “They're worried about infection, I guess. I miss him, Sonny.”

“I know, darlin'. I know.” He thought back on the hole in his life that opened as soon as Caitlin's eyes closed for the last time. “But he'll come back to you. He's a tough son of a bitch, and he loves you. He's not going anywhere.”

“I know. At least my head does.”

“Good.” He smiled again, wanting to do something but knowing he couldn't. “I think Mindy's already here if you want to check with her. I'll drop these by as soon as I'm done.”

Trudy turned and was about to leave when the outer office door crashed open. “Have no fear! Stan is here!” Switek's voice boomed through the suite. His hands were full of donut boxes, and his tousled hair was still short from where it had been cut back to allow bandages to protect his wounds.

Sonny got up, glad for the excuse to leave the files behind. “Hey, Stan! You're the only guy I know who looks better after being blown up!”

Stan didn't even blink. “Funny, Sonny. That's the same thing your mother and your girlfriend said when I stopped by on my way here.”

“I'm sure they did.” He smiled wide. “Seriously, though, Stan. It's good to have you back. It hasn't been the same with you and Lester gone.”

“And he's coming back tomorrow or the next day.” Stan plopped the boxes down on the conference table. “Dig in. I know I will. Damned hospital food. Gina's been trying to get me back in fighting trim, but it's a struggle.” He slapped his gut with his hand and grinned.

Sonny nodded. “Save one for me, girls. I've got something I need to show Stan.” He curled his index finger. “Follow me.”

“This better not be about free candy and puppies, Crockett. I'm dating now, you know.”

“Oh, it's better than that.” Sonny didn't say another word while they were in the elevator, and he could see Stan shifting from one foot to the other. Wanting to ask but knowing there was no point. Finally the doors hissed open. “See that van over there? It's yours.”

Stan's jaw dropped. “It's...it's beautiful.” Not exactly the words Sonny would have used to describe the tan van with “We Zap 'Em” painted on the side and a metal cockroach mounted on the roof.

Sonny tossed him the keys. “Take a look inside. The marshal's service went all out. You've got Duddy's office in the back, with some stuff he never thought of.”

Stan disappeared through the double back doors, and Sonny heard a variety of gasps and muttered words. Then he saw the antenna on the roach move. “They've got mics in one of those,” Stan shouted from inside. “And a long-range antenna. I'll bet this baby's good out to ten miles. Maybe more.”

“Knock yourself out, buddy. I'll be upstairs. Just try not to get any...uh...body fluids on the controls?”

“I'll try, but it ain't gonna be easy. This setup is amazing. I can run video in here!”

Back upstairs Sonny smiled at Trudy and Mindy. “I think Gina's gonna be pissed. There's a new lady in Stan's life, and it's the damned roach on top of that van!”

Mindy laughed, powdered sugar clinging to her lips. “You think he'll be up today?”

“Sure. He'll run out of steam eventually.” He picked up a chocolate frosted donut from one of the boxes. “Just like me and those damned files.”

He was about to vanish into the office when Rico sauntered in, a smile in his eyes. “What the hell is going on down in the garage? It sounded like someone was filming a cut-rate porno.”

“That was just Stan with the new Bug Van.” Sonny waved toward the table. “He brought donuts, too.”

“I don't want any cream filling. Not after hearing that fuss down there.” Rico chuckled. “Looks like you got work to do, partner.”

“And it looks like you just signed on to help.” Sonny grinned and waved toward the door. “Gangs sent over everything they have on everyone since the boat lift, I think. I'm trying to weed out the bad stuff before we have Mindy and Trudy work their magic on it. We need a good picture of the Dominicans and Columbians before we can move on the heroin dealer. Especially if what Robbie said is true.”

Tubbs followed him in and slumped into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Dave or Randy been by yet? I got questions for one of 'em.”

“I think they're scouting hide sites. They want to start overwatching some of those neighborhoods, which is why we get to sort through the Gang Unit's scrap heap.”

“Thank 'em next time you see those chumps, will you? The Gang Unit, I mean.” Reaching out, he took the smaller stack. “Gotta let you flex those boss muscles.”

“You think I enjoy this?”

“No, Sonny. Ease back, man.”

Sonny shook his head, sitting down with a sigh. He knew he'd snapped at Rico for no good reason. “I'm sorry, partner. This whole thing take some adjustment, you know? I hope they cut Marty loose soon. This ain't my scene.”

Tubbs looked at one folder with a sneer and tossed it aside. “The Urban Kings? Don't they know that gang got busted – by THEM, mind – four years ago? At least.”

“Like I said, I think they just cleaned off their desks and sent it all to us. Once we thin 'em down, I might have Trudy run some of the stuff by Gina and see if it tracks in her world. Most of those gangs run girls, or beat them, and since quite a few of the girls are junkies of one stripe or another...”

“Follow the trail of used needles. Solid.” Tubbs grinned, then shook his head and tossed another file. “Seriously? I don't think the Sons of Dracula were ever even a gang. Maybe a bad movie Stan watched one night.”

They worked their way through the files, and an hour later had the mess down to a reasonable stack. Sonny looked at the discards covering his desk. “I'll hold these for a day or so just in case we missed something. Then they're ALL going back to the Gang Unit. Two can play the dumpster game.”

“I'd run 'em back myself, but I'm allergic.”

“Allergic? To what?”

“Cheap suits and lazy cops.”

Sonny shook his head. “There's some good cops in the Gang Unit, Rico.”

“Yeah, and they're all working the street. Not writing reports. Their squad room's like a bad rerun of the 'Mod Squad' or something. And that captain needs to cut back on the polyester and Kojak reruns.”

“You got me there, partner.” Sonny pushed up from the chair with a groan. “Let's get this stuff to Trudy and Mindy so they can work their magic.”

Trudy stared from Sonny and Rico to the pile of folders and back again. “You want what from this mess now?”

“As much as you can put together about which gang's actually involved in this war and what their turfs look like.” Sonny smiled. “It's mostly for Dave and Randy so they can do a visual recon of the areas, but it will help us get a solid handle on what's going on. Robbie's intel confirms the war's over some heroin source, and we need to know the players before we can get in the game.”

Trudy's eyes narrowed. “Heroin. You mean...”

“Yeah. The same chain that killed your sister and Noogie. Whoever's running it is buried deep in one of those neighborhoods, so we need a better understanding of what's going on in there.”

Mindy took the files, moving her crutches so she could sit down. “We'll have it for you as quick as we can, boss.”

“Thanks. There's more in my office, but Tubbs and I tried to sort through it to get rid of the obvious garbage. But we're not trained in this stuff. If you think something's missing, check there. I'll hold onto it for a day or so and then ship the stack back to Gangs.”

“What about these?”

“Keep 'em as long as you need them. If Gangs wants something back we'll make copies of what we need.” Sonny looked at the two women. “Our operation has priority. From Metro-Dade's own head shop. Gangs may not like it, but they'll shut up and color.”

Trudy looked down at the files, and Sonny could see the anger in her eyes. “I thought we shut that heroin down.”

“So did we. But it turns out Tio was just another buyer like Reno. Nicky Fuentes is trying to front for it now, but it's not his, either.” Sonny shook his head. “The truth is we don't know who's bringing it in. Robbie's heard rumors, but nothing solid. And intel's got nothing so far. The quantity was low enough it didn't hit their radar until that bad batch made it through. Moncado's snow storm was a pretty good screen for this guy, whoever the hell he is.”

“I hate to say it, Sonny, but you think we should go rattle Izzy's cage about this?”

“Not yet, Rico. I don't like dealing with the little weasel unless we've got more to go on.” Sonny shrugged. “It's not that I don't trust him, I just don't trust him when I'm going in cold.”

“You got a point.” Rico followed Sonny back into Castillo's office. “Sonny, I gotta ask. Did any special intel come in?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Sonny sat down and waved Rico to a chair. “Why?”

“Marty...Marty said he was going to look into Ricardo Junior for me. He said we've got better access here, and...”

“He wasn't kidding about that.” Sonny leaned across the desk, seeing the old hurt in his partner's eyes. “I'll keep my eyes open and let you know when something comes in, Rico. You've got my word.”

“Thanks, partner.” Tubbs sat for a time, and Sonny could see the effort he was putting into collecting himself. “Hear from Billy lately?”

“Not really.” Sonny smiled a thin smile and turned to look out the window. That was the only good thing about being in this office. The view. I can damned near see the ocean from here. “Once Caroline and Bob moved to Atlanta that pretty much dried up.” He turned back to Rico. “And honestly, Bob's a better dad for him than I could be. I missed too damned much. Being a drive-by dad just doesn't work too damned well.” That's why I would have left the force for Caitlin and Will. Don't make the same mistake twice. 

“Yeah. I guess not.” Rico got up and walked to the big window. “Damn! View from here's almost as good as Casa Cooper.”

“But Castillo doesn't have a bar.” Sonny chuckled. “We could always hit up Rizzo's. Check out the day shift girls and see what's going down.”

“For five bucks they're going down.” Tubbs laughed. “I gotta be straight with you, Sonny. Those day shift girls scare the hell out of me.”

“Aw, come on Rico. Some of them might not even be girls.” Sonny slapped his partner on the shoulder. “Still, we can go pay our respects to Noogie and see if there's any word out. Lots of low-level dealers pass through that dump, and I know at least one of the door guys would have it in for whoever sold that heroin.”

“Ok, but you're paying for any dry cleaning. That place gives me a rash.”

Sonny was still chuckling when they passed Stan on the way through the outer office. “That's one hell of a ride, Sonny,” the big man enthused, eyes bright. “You know some of that rig is digital? Digital! No more smoking tubes. I'm in heaven.”

“You and Lester earned it, big guy. The marshal's service didn't even blink when I asked for a replacement. And they sent the best they could find.” Sonny smiled, glad to see Stan so happy. He's not second-string any more. Not by a long shot. So he deserves the best gear I can get him. “Got a name for it yet?”

“Yep. Gonna check with Lester and see if he's cool with it. But goodbye Bug Van, hello Roach Coach!”

Rico laughed. “I like it! You gonna name the roach, too?”

“I'll let Lester do that. It's like half his anyhow.”

Once they were in the elevator, Rico turned to Sonny. “Good to see those two working well together.”

“Yeah, it is. Kinda like having Bluto and Lee Harvey Oswald back together again.” Sonny smiled. The blame he laid on himself for Zito's murder was still there, but he'd made changes and sworn he wouldn't push anyone like that again. Except himself. Maybe that was part of the reason he'd stood up in front of Maynard out there in the Keys. It was a memory he still didn't like getting close to.

Tubbs looked around their corner of the underground garage. “I see Trudy's still driving that monster.”

Sonny looked over at the Challenger. “Yeah. One of these days I'll have to run against her in the Ferrari. Just to see.” He grinned. “It is a damned fine car, though.”

Tubbs nodded. “And after she put that bullet through Maynard's face I'd say it suits her down to the damned ground.” Neither man had talked much about the fight in the Keys, letting the memories settle into each of them in their own way. In fact, after the formal debrief no one on the Task Force had really mentioned it much.

Sonny understood the process. Each member had to deal with what had happened in their own way. He'd seen it in Nam, and back on the streets once he joined the force. The key was to deal with it and not just bury it like he'd done with his time in Vietnam. Once they were in the Ferrari and heading for Rizzo's he looked over at Tubbs. “You given any more thought to retiring that wheel gun of yours? I know you like it, but...”

“I know, Sonny. It's a liability with what we're doing now.” Rico nodded, looking out the window at the buildings flashing by as the Ferrari accelerated. “I've been meaning to talk to Dave and Randy about it. I think I'll be like Switek and go with a 9mm. I'd rather go from not having enough bullets to having too many.”

Sonny nodded. “Sure. Same kind of recoil, too. I've shot .45 pretty much my whole life so it's natural. But .38 to 9mm isn't a huge jump.”

“Yeah. That's what I thought. And I gotta go with something sleek. To stick with Cooper's cover.” Tubbs chuckled and corrected himself. “I mean covers. Different day, different Cooper after all.”
Sonny nodded, thinking back to the SIG he'd used during his Burnett episode. Still don't really know what to call that whole thing. Aside from one big mess. “Just don't go with a SIG, ok?”

“Bad memories.” Tubbs smiled. “I get it, partner. I don't like 'em anyhow. Not stylin' enough for Cooper.” He scratched his chin. “I did some reading in those gun magazines Dave likes to bring in. I've been thinking about a Walther.”

“Good German engineering. Hard to go wrong there.”

“Yeah. I like the P-88, at least what I've seen of it.”

Sonny nodded. “A bit pricey, but I hear they shoot damned well. Fifteen round magazine, too. About three times what your old Smith has.” He grinned. “Smith & Wesson makes some nice nines, too.”

“I know. But if I'm gonna change, I want to change all the way. You know?”

“Yeah, I do. Speaking of that, you call Debbie again?”

“No. Don't know if I will. She wants something more, Sonny. And I just ain't there yet, you know?”

“Oh, yeah. I know that one. Too many unanswered questions of your own. And then there's my thing with Jenny, whatever the hell it is. Maybe one of these days we'll figure it out, you and me.” He slammed the Ferrari down a gear and whipped past a bus that was taking its time in the wrong lane. “Or maybe it is just about the Job.” Behind his sunglasses he knew his eyes showed his doubts. Rico needed to know about his son before he could move on. And what the hell am I waiting for? Got no loose ends now. Except maybe for me.

Rizzo's never seemed to change. They traded words with the doorman, and Sonny let the question drop sounding like an afterthought. “Anyone around here got a line on H? My friend here's looking to diversity his holdings a bit.” The big guy looked confused. “He wants to buy more than coke. That makin' sense now?”

“Oh, yeah.” The block of meat grinned, showing gaps where teeth had once been. “We ain't seen much of that since Noogie, God rest his soul in the pole, passed on. There's this one punk keeps comin' by, though. I think he's sweet on Jasmine. She works the five to midnight.”

“What's his name?”

“Nicky I think.”

“We've passed on that punk, too, pal. He's got a mouth his product can't back.” Sonny smiled, knowing his sunglasses added menace to the look. “Anyone else?”

The big guy screwed up his face, thinking. Then he leaned forward. “You didn't hear this from me, but one of the girls rides the tiger now an' again. Name's Trixie. She's a part-timer. Mostly works Wednesday through Friday on the ten to two shift. You can't miss her. Big ol' cans and blue hair.” He shrugged. “Don't do nothin' for me but some of the guys get into it. She makes decent tips.”

Sipping the big guy a twenty, Sonny followed Rico inside. “I kinda want to spill some booze on that pole,” he said, looking toward the center of the club where a pasty brunette was doing a third-rate leg twirl. “Just to say hello to Noogie.”

“I still can't believe the little chump had himself poured into that pole. No, check that. I can believe he'd do it. I just can't believe they let him.”

“Noogie made this place some good money.” Sonny pointed up at the blown ceiling loudspeakers. “For all his faults he was a damned good DJ. This new guy ain't got shit on him.”

“Yeah, I get it. Bad tunes throw the girls off, and tips go down. Dudes ain't comin' in, no one buys the drinks.” Tubbs eased up to the bar and signaled the bald man lazing by the register. “Two beers. Bottles. Coors if you have it.”

“We got Bud, Miller, and Schlitz. Coors is rare as real tits in this place, friend.”

“Two Millers, then. Bottles,” Tubbs repeated, watching the bartender turn toward the beer cooler. “I don't trust the taps in this place.”

“Hell, I don't trust the pissers in this place.” Sonny grinned, watching the brunette sleepwalking through the rest of her set. “And if she had blue hair I'd say she was out girl. She looks hopped up to me.”

“That she does, partner. And if she is, I'll bet she buys from that Trixie.” Tubbs watched as the girl gave a half-assed bow and almost staggered off stage to scattered cheers. “Let's finish our beer and get the hell out before we catch something modern medicine hasn't heard of yet.”

The beer did nothing to break the heat of the Miami streets. Sonny pushed his sunglasses up on his nose and headed for the car. “That was my one big idea for the day, Rico. Unless you've got something better I'd say we head back and see what our ladies have come up with.”

“What about Metro-Dade's Narcotics unit? They aren't part of OCB yet, and they might have something hidden away we can use.”

“From what I hear OCB snatched up most of their people and their cases after we left.” Sonny sighed and climbed in the Ferrari. “Still, you're right. It's worth a look. Maybe we should reach out to Gina, too, and see if she has anything on this Trixie. Hard to miss a girl with fake tits and blue hair in this town.”

What was left of Metro-Dade's Narcotics division clung to a suite of offices on the third floor of police headquarters. Sonny and Rico flashed their IDs, and in minutes they were in the squad room. Or what was left of the squad room. Desks sat empty, and a few fans rotated their blades in a losing effort to shift the stale air from one end of the room to the other. “It's like a damned ghost town,” Rico whispered to Sonny while they waited for someone to notice them.

A door at the far end of the room opened, and a thin man in a rumpled gray suit stuck his head out. “You guys from OCB come to claim the last of my resources?”

Sonny grinned, recognizing the man from a past case. “No, John. We aren't even OCB any more. Haven't been with them for a few months now.”

“Sonny Crockett!” John Vallencio came out of the office, his eyes lighting up with recognition. “It's been, what, six years now? And Ricardo Tubbs! How you been? I heard you two left the force.”

“We did. Then Castillo talked us into coming back. We're working a special detail now.”

“Must be that task force I hear OCB whining about all the time.” John chuckled. “If you're pissing them off, you're ok with me. Come on in and take a load off.”

John's office was a welter of files, street maps, and strategically-placed ashtrays. Tapping a Marlboro out of the pack, he picked up one of the many matchbooks scattered across his desk and lit up. “Smoke 'em if you got 'em,” he announced with a grin. “Now what the hell brings you to my little graveyard?”

“Man, it is, isn't it? Who the hell did you piss off?”

“No one. But that prick from Homicide who got OCB has never liked me. Or Narcotics for that matter. Always claimed we were screwing up his clearance rates. So when he got the chance he came in and cleaned me out.” John chuckled. “Of course, it might be swinging back after you guys took down Gorman. The bosses are NOT happy about that.”

Rico laughed. “Screw them. If they're not happy, I'm happy.”

“Pretty much. But that's tomorrow's news. What can I do for you gents today?”

“We got handed the Dominican-Columbian mess by our bosses.” Sonny raised his hand. “Can't go into it too much, but they're bigger than OCB's bosses. Anyhow, it seems heroin's at the bottom of at least part of it. We've got our people working up the gang intel, but I was wondering if you'd picked up any noise about the heroin side.”

“It was public enemy number one when that bad batch hit the streets.” John drew deep on his cigarette and sent a cloud of smoke floating toward the ceiling. “Then it dropped away again once the bad stuff cleared. We tracked that shipment to some punk named Tio, who was moving it through another punk named Reno.”

“Yeah. We tied up that loose end for you.”

“So that was you guys?” John whistled. “Damn slick. And lots of firepower. The heroin disappeared for like a week and then started popping up again. Same high-grade Asian stuff. Never in big quantities, but enough to kill a hooker or two once or twice a week. I hear Nicky Fuentes is trying to get back in on it, but he's not the supplier.”

“Yeah. We went through Reno to get to him, and then Tio popped up.” Sonny shook his head. “At the time we thought Tio was the connection.”

“Welcome to the club. So did we. But it's obvious he ain't.” John reached into his desk and pulled out a battered and stained folder. Opening it, he turned to a heavily-thumbed section. “My intel says it's coming in somewhere in Dominican turf, but it didn't start there. This smack has been popping up off and on for about fifteen years, I think. The guy before me was tracking it, and he gave me this folder when he moved out and I moved in.” John stared down at the paper, his head surrounded by smoke. “He kept hearing rumors of one guy running the show. Never had a solid fix, just a street name. Doc. That's all he got.”

Rico leaned forward. “This Doc got a trademark?”

“Not really. His horse is high-end, though. Always comes in these little baggies with a red cross on them. Haskins tried to get a fix on him, but never could. And I haven't been able to, either. He spreads his product around too much, deals in small quantities, and seems ruthless as hell if someone gets close. Over the years I've had one or two dealers I thought I could cut deals with to get more on him, but they always turn up in alleys shot in the back of the head. Or they just disappear.”

“And that's it?” Sonny leaned back, pulling out his own Luckies and lighting one with his Ronson.

“Yeah. No name, not even a hint as to the guy's race. Just Doc. And I didn't dig that up.” John closed the folder and sighed. “The guy's damned good. I'll give him that. He's got himself insulated. I've been trying to build a picture of him.” He tapped his forehead. “Up here, you know? But it's tough. Whoever he is doesn't deal with the street. He's ruthless as they come. And I think he knows something about police work. Don't ask me how, but he's avoided just enough stings and the like that I think he knows our moves from the inside.”

“A good detective trusts his gut. And you were always a good detective.” Sonny looked at the battered folder. “Can you send me a copy of that? I've got two analysts who might be able to make something of it.”

“Sure. I'll send it over first thing.”

Sonny gave him in the inter-office code and they talked for a few more minutes. “It was good to see you again, John,” he said as he stubbed out his cigarette in one of the four ashtrays on the desk. “We'll keep you in the loop with this so we don't end up tripping over each other.”

“I'd appreciate it. I don't have the manpower to go after Doc, but coordination's always a good thing.” John Vallencio stood up and shook hands with both detectives. “Stop by again and we'll have a drink or two. I'd love to see how the other half lives.”

“Count on it.” Sonny smiled. “It has been too damned long, hasn't it?'

Back on the street Rico looked up and sighed. “Good to be out of that damned place. It gives me a rash.”

“What doesn't give you a rash? Maybe you need to get some ointment for that sensitive skin of yours.”

“Only if there's a pretty lady to rub it on.” Tubbs chuckled as they headed for the car. “What did you think of his story?”

“John's a damned good cop. You know that as well as I do. And Haskins was sharp, too. Had damned good street instincts. If they think there's someone called Doc behind this...” Sonny paused. “Well, someone needs to show me there isn't before I'd stop looking.”

“Same feeling I've got. But it sure ain't much to go on.”

Sonny paused as he was unlocking the Ferrari. “Maybe it is. If the guy's bringing in high-grade China White that means he's got a contact over there he's working with. That stuff doesn't just fall out of the sky. And the people who control the trade don't work with outsiders much. But he can't be too big, because the quantities are too low.”

“So you're thinking a direct smuggling operation with no middleman to be seen.” Tubbs nodded. “It makes sense. But why fight over a setup like that? If it's that kind of connection, it dries up if something happens to this Doc.”

“They might not know that. If the guy's as insulated as John thinks, neither gang is going to know how he operates. The Columbians would think he's just a middle man, and they're used to dealing with them. Who knows what the Dominicans think? Maybe he pays them for protection.” Sonny started the car and put it in gear, easing out of the police lot and into traffic. “Either way I don't think they know what they're dealing with.”

“Hopefully that collection of cocktail napkins and God knows what else will make sense to Trudy and Mindy.”

“If anyone can figure it out, those two can.” Sonny shot through a gap in traffic and accelerated. “I'm just hoping Stan and Lester can put together some kind of surveillance plan to deal with those gangs. We need ears on them as well as eyes.”