Echoes - Part IV

[Robbie C.]

Sonny whistled as Rico unboxed the Walther. “Nice looking piece you got there. How many does it hold? Fifteen?”

“Yeah. I'll still have the Smith on my ankle, but that show in the Keys convinced me it's time.” Rico hefted the pistol, looking uncomfortable with the weight and the grip. “Damn! Gonna take some getting used to.”

“Take your time. Just shoot in and let it happen. You'll adjust quicker than you think.” Sonny pulled out his own new acquisition: a Smith & Wesson 4506-1. The rough edges he'd found on the 645 and first 4506 were gone, leaving a sleek stainless steel weapon reminding him of what might happen if a Colt M1911-A1 and a Browning Hi-Power could have kids. It was still big, bigger than Rico's Walther, but he couldn't bring himself to walk away from .4e5 ACP. And he'd never had one of his Smiths jam. Ever. Even when he'd been forced to use some really crappy military surplus ammo on a case in the Everglades years gone now.

Tubbs nodded, slamming a magazine home and working the slide, feeding a round into the chamber. He slipped his earphones on and sighted downrange. The Walther cracked with authority, and Sonny watched his parter control the recoil and send another round downrange. Then a third. And then he snapped off five in rapid succession. Soon enough the slide locked back on an empty magazine and Tubbs was grinning like a guy who'd gotten lucky on prom night. “Damn!”

“How's she shoot?”

“Like a dream, man! I don't even wanna see the paper off that one, but it sure is fun to shoot. Recoil's better than my .38, and it's a hell of a lot faster.”

“Sure. You got more weight dealing with the recoil and a better grip besides.” Sonny loaded his own pistol and checked both sides to make sure they were clear. “Let me send a mag downrange and then we'll haul the paper in.”

There were no surprises in the 4506-1, except the thinner frame made it easier to reach the slide release and he liked the new grips better. Eight rounds went by in two blinks of an eye and he set the locked-back pistol on the bench next to a stack of loaded magazines. “Let's see how much we embarrassed ourselves.” He looked down the range. “Clear!”

They laid their targets on the shooting bench, and Sonny peered intently at Rico's through his Ray-Bans. “That's not a bad group at all for the first time out of the box. I'd say you got a winner there, Rico.”

“Yeah. Once I settled down it looks good.” Tubbs slammed a fresh magazine into the Walther but left the slide back. “I don't know about you, but I can go for a few more mags.”

“It takes around a hundred rounds to really hit the groove of a new pistol. And I don't know about you, but I brought at least that many and I got no place to be until Trudy and Mindy finish their magic. It's hotter than hell out here, damned it if the company ain't good.”

“Yeah, partner. I got at least that much, too. Let's see how she does.”

It was mid-afternoon before the last echoes of their shots chased each other across the range. Sonny lowered his smoking pistol, squinting into the glare through his sunglasses and feeling confident about his last group. He'd been methodical in his practice today, working from one target group on the silhouette to the next, going for controlled two-shot strings calculated to bring a target down. Beside him Tubbs had settled down soon enough and started trying the same technique, cussing from time to time as he remembered he had three times the number of bullets he'd been training with for well over a decade.

Shaking his head, Tubbs lowered his own gun. “I shoulda changed years ago, Sonny. Damn.”

“Now you gotta figure out how to carry it and where to keep the extra mags.” Sonny lifted his arm. “You get those suits altered you could go with a rig like mine. Shoulder rig isn't for everyone, but I like it. Hip's a good option, too. Pistol on one side, mags on the other. You can do regular or cross draw.”

“Been thinkin' about that. I think I'll carry in the same place I did my Chief's Special. One less habit to retrain that way.”

Sonny nodded. “Makes sense. I can put you in touch with the guy who made my holster. You'll want a good rig for that Walther. Good, solid leather that will hold up. That and pouches for two mags on the other hip.”

“Solid.” Tubbs looked at the piles of spent brass. “Who picks this crap up?”

“The range hires someone. I think they reload most of it and use it for classes. Anyhow, we'd better get back and clean these babies. Florida climate plays hell with firearm finishes. That's why I went stainless.”

Tubbs groaned. “Now he tells me.”

Mindy and Trudy were still working with the information Narcotics had sent over when Sonny and Rico got back to the office. Stan was helping them, sorting through bits that might lead to taps or potential visual surveillance spots for him and Lester. Trudy sniffed. “Smells like two boys have been out playing with their new toys.”

“Yeah, and now we gotta clean 'em.” Sonny held up his hand. “And yes, we'll turn the fan on this time.”

They were almost done when Trudy stuck her head through the doorway. “Sonny, I...”

“Go. Say hello to him for us.” Once she left he waited a moment and then turned to Tubbs. “I hope they do let him go home today. That girl needs a good night's sleep.”

Stan came through next. “I talked to Lester, Sonny. They're changing the sling on his arm so he's not gonna make it today. He promises he'll be here tomorrow, though.”

“Don't worry about it, Stan. He'll be in as soon as he's ready.” Sonny smiled. “And you look like the King made you run ten miles in his blue suede shoes. Why don't you call it a day, too? Unless Mindy needs your help.”

“We're almost done anyhow, boss,” Mindy's voice echoed from the big table. “I just need his help with one more thing.”

“Do that and you're out, Stan. That's an order.”

“You got it, Sonny.” Stan grinned and turned back to the conference room.

“So do I get to go home early, dad?”

“Hell, why not?” Sonny chuckled. “Actually we'll look through the intel first. There might be something there we can follow up on without dragging the rest of them into it.” He snapped the slide release into place in the lower frame of the 4506-1 and let the slide rack forward on an empty chamber.

Mindy was still staring at her notepad when Sonny and Rico finished in the arms room. “You weren't kidding when you said they didn't have much, boss,” she said with a sigh. “Lots of gossip and street talk, but nothing concrete.”

“How the hell does someone even do that?”

“It's easy, Rico. Well, it's easy if you're patient and not greedy. And this guy seems to be both. Doc, or whatever his name is, moves his heroin in small batches. And he never seems to come into contact with whoever's doing the actual selling. It moves through at least two hands first, maybe more. I think that's how Reno got involved. He bought from Tio, who in turn got his from someone else. I think Tio was the one who did the cutting, too. There's no sign any of Doc's batches were bad before or since.”

Sonny nodded. “Narcotics was close to the same thing.”

“Yes. And they chased it as far as the Dominican neighborhoods.” Mindy pointed to the map. “But that's where it gets fuzzy.”

“Yeah.” Tubbs nodded. “Dominicans, at least those Dominicans, deal mostly in weed. A little coke from time to time.”

“I'll need to keep working it, and maybe get Stan a sealed warrant or two. But I think I'm on to something, boss. It's not just Dominicans like Narcotics thinks. The intel we got from the chief deputy filled some of that in. It's specific Dominicans.”

“If Nicky Fuentes is trying to assume Tio's crown, he's the key.” Sonny looked at the map, fascinated by the network of lines and colors taking shape. “He can't do that without dealing with Tio's sources. Or at least one of his sources. And that would explain how Robbie heard about it.” He turned to Mindy. “He says there's a group of old-school Dominicans who drink in his place every Thursday.”

“And little Nicky's gone to ground. Or so I hear.”

“Then we'll just have to root him out, Rico. Or see if Izzy knows what hole the little rat crawled into. If anyone knows rat lairs, it's Izzy.”

“But that means we gotta find that rat. Didn't they kick him out of the safe house after we took Maynard and Moncado down?”

“Officially, maybe. But I made a call to the chief deputy. Izzy's still got that room, and there's so many old folks around there for him to scam I don't think he'll move until they lynch him or run him out of town.”

Rico nodded. “That does remind me, though. Are we still after the other side of Maynard's little empire? Homie or whatever his name was.”

“Holmes. E. Lester Holmes if I read the file right.” Sonny chuckled. “Naw. ATF stuck their big noses in and wanted it. Fine by me, actually. We don't have the people to go after him and those gangs, and messing around with redneck arms dealers always made me nervous.”

“Made you nervous?” Tubbs held up his hands. “I'm the wrong color entirely to go wadin' around in some swamp looking for those chumps.”

“Yeah. And Burnett's cover don't work too good around that kind. I think Stan's still got an active tap or two on them, but that's it. Besides, without Maynard to buy his boom sticks he's just another garden-variety paranoid redneck sellin' guns to bikers.”

Mindy looked up from her notes again. “I've been connecting some dots, and I'd say if Nicky wants a shot at this he's going to have to hook up with those two older gangs. The 8-Ball Kings or the Double Treys. And that's not going to be easy for him. According to Gangs and the chief deputy's intel they like to deal with Dominicans only, and he's not. Tio was.”

“You think the heroin comes from them?”

“I don't know. But it might come through the neighborhoods they control.” She pointed to the map. “See those red circles? Those are disputed zones. It's where the Columbians are trying to push in. That means taking out or turning dealers. It's mostly coke and weed, but there is heroin in there, too. Not much, but it's there.”

“So little Nicky has to go try to dance the Mamba with old-school pistoleros who'd rather slit his throat than look at him?” Tubbs grinned. “Where can I get tickets?”

Sonny started to speak, but felt an unfamiliar weight in his throat. “I'd love to jump in, but we need more info first. I might have Stan talk to Gina again. See if she can track any of her girls into that combat zone. Mindy, be sure to include one or two of those in the profiles you build for Randy and Dave. But do it tomorrow. You've done great work today. Go home and ice that ankle.” He looked at the files and maps. “It's a great start, but I feel like we need a bit more. Something's still missing, and I don't want to send people in there until I know what it is.”

Rico waited until Mindy left before he let out a long laugh. “What was that I just heard? The great Sonny Crockett being responsible?”

“Something like that.” Sonny sat down at the head of the table, staring at the papers without seeing any of it. “Hell, Rico. It's different when all you're doing is running and gunning. Now I have to think about everyone. And everything. I'd go out with the information we have now, but I can't ask someone else to do it knowing we don't have the best picture we can.”

“What about Trixie? She's supposed to work tonight, isn't she?” Rico flipped through his battered leather notebook. “Yeah. Wednesday through Friday from ten until two. We catch her now she might not have scored yet.”

“By Friday she's likely a basket case with tracks up and down her arms.” Sonny stood up with a groan. “Let's grab some chow and get our shots before we hit Rizzo's.”

They hit the door just after ten, hearing the blown speakers pumping out an old Rolling Stones song followed by a ferocious track by a band Sonny remembered was called Motley Crue. He looked at Rico and grinned. “Now that's music to strip by, my friend.”

Rico nodded. “Better than the Stones. You were right, again. This place needs Noogie.” Once they were inside, surrounded by a haze of cigarette smoke and the stench of desperate men and cheap perfume, he leaned closer. “How do you want to play this?”

“I'd say we're just two joes looking to score. Maybe hit up one or two of the other girls first so it doesn't look like we came in special for her.” Sonny looked around. “Yeah, I'd say that's her on the pole back from Noogie's. Bad boob job and crazy blue hair.”

“And no rhythm at all. I can see why she's part time.” Rico shook his head. “I'll bet Stan could do better.”
“Hell, Lester could do better with his crutches and sling.” Sonny turned to the bar and ordered two drinks. “Well, we'd better get in character. This could be a long-ass night.”

They caught Trixie after her first lackluster set, when Rizzo's sent the girls out with trays and skimpy bikini bottoms to work the crowd and generate green. Rico led in, his bright Cooper smile plastered on his face. “The one and only Trixie! It's an honor to meet you.”

She turned to them, and Sonny saw the heroin glaze over her eyes. Damn. She's dosed already. “Come on and have a drink,” he said, following his partner's lead. “Princess and Jinx both told us you were the lady to talk to.”

“They did?” Her eyes partly focused on two other girls working the floor.

“Sure! They said they couldn't help us, but you could.” Sonny chuckled. “Great set, by the way. The dancing, too.”

“What? Oh, thanks.” She gave them a lopsided smile and looked down at her boobs like she was seeing them for the first time. “I paid top dollar for them, you know.”

Rico grinned. “And worth every penny. But you gotta say you can help us. Like my buddy said, Princess and Jinx couldn't do a thing.”

“Well, ok. But not both of you at the same time. And I don't do...”

“That's not it, Trixie. Another time, maybe, but that's not what we're lookin' for.” Sonny leaned over to make sure she heard him. “We're looking for some party favors.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Her smile was almost genuine this time. “Been a long day. Yeah, I might be able to help you out with that.” Her eyes narrowed. “You ain't cops, are you?”

“Us?” Tubbs opened his eyes wide in mock horror. “Come on! We're too well-dressed for cops.”

She smiled again. “You are at least.” She looked at Sonny again with narrowed eyes. “Him I'm not too sure about, though.”

Sonny dropped the act. “The name Burnett mean anything to you?”

Her eyes went wide, and the drink tray almost slipped from her shaking hands. “Oh! I”m sorry, Mr. Burnett. I didn't...”

“It's ok, darlin'. No harm done.” He let his voice slide soft again to keep the deal moving. “I'm just out with my old friend Rico here and he's got a friend who's into some stuff I don't keep on hand.”

“What's that? I though you...”

“China White.” Rico smiled. “My friend is vary particular.”

“And that's not somethin' I have experience with.” Sonny nodded toward the other girls. “But Princess and Jinx both said you could help us out with that.”

“Maybe.” She looked at Sonny again. “I mean, sure I can. How much?”

“He wants a taste. For now. Something to sample the quality.”

“I don't do volume, Mr...Rico. I've got some for me and a bit extra to help pay off the tits.” She smiled and blushed. “I still owe on 'em.”

Sonny sipped his drink, pretending to think on something. “Tell you what. You get us that taste now, and if it's good I'll pay those off for you. All you need to do is point us to your dealer.”

“But I still owe over a grand!”

Reaching into his pocket, Sonny counted out hundreds from a roll of money seized from Moncado's house. “And that's twelve. Those puppies are yours now. And I think we're good for the taste, too.” He added another hundred to the small pile. “Lucky thirteen. All yours, Trixie.”

“Now be a good girl and fetch us that taste.” Once she turned and headed for the back, Rico grinned at Sonny. “Burnett sure comes in handy sometimes, don't he?”

“Yeah. At least she didn't piss herself. One of these days that's gonna come back to bite me on the ass, though.”

“I thought it already did with that Callie psycho?”

“You're right. And somewhere out there is a Mikko with your name on her.”

Tubbs sighed. “Don't I wish.” Then he laughed. “So long as some mountain of meat named Jimmy isn't tagging along I think I could handle her.”

“Don't be too sure.” Sonny grinned and looked up. “And it looks like Trixie's on her way back.”

Trixie tottered up to table, her unsteady gait hinting she might have taken something in the back to boost her confidence or settle her nerves. Sonny would have laid odds now she wouldn't make it through her next shift on the pole. Reaching into her bikini bottom, she pulled out a tiny plastic baggie. “Here's your taste, Mr. Rico. It's good shit. I swear.” She smiled, showing what had once been pretty teeth. “You want, I can even give you a freebie after my next set. Anything you want.”

“Any other time I'd love to, Trixie. But my friend's waiting on this.” Rico smiled, touching her arm. “Tell you what. If it's good, we'll come back tomorrow and you can point us to where we can get more than one taste. And I'll pay for those boobs, too.”

“But...” Then her eyes lit up. “Oh, I get it. Sure. I work tomorrow from ten until two.” She looked from Rico to Sonny and back again. “Are you sure neither of you want a freebie?”

“If only we had time, darlin'.” Sonny looked at his watch. “Hell, we gotta get rollin', Rico. We're already late.” He smiled at Trixie again. “Pleasure doin' business with you. We'll see you tomorrow.”

Once they were out on the street Tubbs exploded in laughter. “Freebie my ass! Well, it would be until the test results came back. Then you'd be payin' and payin'.”

Sonny nodded, but a bit of him went out to the girl. “I can see why Gina made the move she did,” he said in a low voice. “You can tell she was pretty once.”

“Now that's the Sonny I know.” Rico slapped him on the back. “I get it, Sonny. I guess I just saw too much of it growin' up. Girls with no hope. Once they got hooked on smack it was all over.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the baggie. “I should have had this decontaminated considering where it was.”

“Yeah.” Sonny reached out. “Let me see that.” He moved closer to the streetlight and turned the baggie over. “We struck gold. See?” He pointed to the red cross printed on the bag. “This is from Doc.”

“So I guess we're going back tomorrow night?” Tubbs sighed. “I'll get my shots.”

“Just don't fall for the freebie and you should be fine.” Sonny shook his head. “Now we just have to hope she doesn't OD before tomorrow night.”

It was almost one in the morning before Sonny turned into his spot in the marina lot. He'd dropped Rico off at Casa Cooper, letting him keep the heroin just in case Elvis decided to be destructive again. The gator had an instinct for destroying evidence when he threw his tantrums, and Sonny needed that heroin and its bag intact.

As he walked down the plank walkway, he noticed Vellamo tied up in her usual spot. He felt his heart skip a beat, and then settle again. No lights burned belowdecks, and he didn't see any movement on deck. Then, from down in the stern seats, he saw the pinprick glow of a Virginia Slims cigarette as someone took a deep drag. For a moment he thought about continuing on down the dock, but changed his mind. Tonight, if she'd have him, he needed company.

Ropes creaked in the quiet night air as he stepped onto the gangplank. “Permission to come aboard?” he asked in a voice pitched to carry only as far as the seats.

The glowing tip bobbed, and then her familiar throaty voice reached his ears. “I was hoping that was you, Sonny.”

He could see her in the moonlight, a light cotton shirt unbuttoned and hanging loose from her shoulders. The blue bikini bottoms were stark against the cushion upholstery, and he could see through the shirt she wasn't wearing a top. The cigarette glowed as she took another deep drag. “I should be sleeping,” she announced to the water around them. “But I couldn't. Not until I saw you.”

“Is that what I am now? So boring I put you to sleep?”

“Never.” She waved her hand, inviting him to sit beside her. There was something about her movements, her voice, that gave him pause. He'd seen Jenny in many moods over the weeks they'd been together, but this was something new. “Tire me out so I can sleep? Yes. A very happy yes. Boring? No.” She pulled again on the cigarette and looked up at the stars, her long blonde hair settling around her tanned shoulders as she moved.

“When did you get back?” He found himself groping for words and cursed inside.

“Around dusk. It made me sad when you weren't home. I wanted to cook you dinner and then have you for dessert.” She smiled, her teeth flashing in the moonlight.

“There's always midnight snacks.” He leaned over and kissed her, tasting the cigarette on her tongue.

“Very true.” She threw her arms around him, and Sonny was surprised by the desperate strength in her embrace. “Let's do it here,” she whispered in his ear, licking his neck. “All the old people are asleep. And I'll be quiet until we go below. I promise.”

“Just can't wait, can you?”

She wriggled out of the bikini bottoms. “No. I can't. Please, Sonny.”

Later, once they were curled up in the forward berth of the Vellamo, she smiled and ran a slender finger along his stubbled jaw. “Thank you. I...I needed that tonight.”

“I'd say so.” Sonny smiled, wondering how he was going to explain the scratches on his back and shoulders if Rico saw him without a shirt. But it still nagged at him. Something about her had been different tonight. Very different. Almost like she was afraid of something. But he knew better than to ask. Jenny was an expert at deflecting questions, either with other questions or sex. Physically she'd worn him out, and he didn't want to deal with some of her more probing questions, either. In another life he figured she'd make a hell of an interrogator. She had a way of circling you with obscure, almost abstract questions and then pouncing once she'd worn you down.

Reaching over, she found her cigarettes. A match flared, and the glowing tip circled like a firefly as she took the first puff and started tracing lines in the still air with the smoke. “You ever do that? It always looked like fireflies going down in flames to me.” She smiled. “Kind of a depressing image, but it's what I think of when I see it.”

He looked over at her naked body, sweat glittering on her smooth skin where moonlight peeking through the ports caught it. “You always think like that?”

“No.” Her laugh was sad. “Only sometimes.” She crushed out her cigarette and kissed him again. “Now hold me and let's try to get some sleep.”

Sonny felt her settle against his body, and slipped his arm around her well-muscled shoulders. It was easy until you were in bed with her to forget just how strong Jenny was. She sighed, and in minutes her breathing took on the even rhythm of sleep. But he took longer to settle. Her mood had started those little gears turning in his head. What was her game? Was it a game? Was she just a small-time smuggler or was there something more going on? And where was his heart in the whole mess? It wasn't easy to answer any of those questions, and Sonny wanted easy when it came to Jenny. Especially the question about his heart. The rules they'd established early on seemed to be changing, and he wanted to know why. But the only way to find out was to risk destroying the little thing they had going, and he wasn't sure he was ready to take that chance.

 

Ricardo Tubbs looked at the numbers on the slip of paper and reminded himself he didn't need to call either one. Not Nita, and certainly not Debbie. He looked around, feeling the emptiness of Casa Cooper closing in on him. It wasn't the first time, and he figured it wouldn't be the last.

Shrugging, he walked into the kitchen nook, still adjusting to the unfamiliar weight of the revolver on his left ankle. The Walther rested in a temporary nylon holster; a quick phone call earlier that day left Tubbs assured Crockett's holster guy would have a proper rig sent out in the next couple of days. He'd considered sticking with just the Chief's Special in its normal place until the holster arrived, but remembered the rain of bullets they'd faced in the Keys and discarded the idea. No, this was a new scene and he needed to be ready.

The smooth whiskey shimmered golden in his glass, and Rico looked down at it with some surprise. He didn't remember pouring one. Shaking his head, he walked to the patio door. “Never a good sign when you don't remember pouring the first drink,” he muttered as he stepped out into the muggy night. The halo around the moon hinted at rain the next day, and he smiled at the thought. Miami could use a good cleaning, and that was one place to start.

Tonight the city didn't hold its usual appeal, so he just stood near the edge and sipped his scotch. Something about this new operation didn't sit right, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Reaching into his pants pocket he pulled out the little baggie and stared at the red cross perfectly centered on the plastic. “Who the hell are you, Doc?” he whispered into the uncaring night. “Why the hell use a red cross? And what will you do if the Columbians get too close?”

Rico never liked not knowing. Ever since he was a kid that had bothered him. Maybe it came from the streets, where not knowing who was around the next corner or what gang controlled the next block could get you hurt or worse. But it stuck with him, and had saved his life on more than one occasion. And it had finally helped him end it with Valerie.

Valerie! Even now the name made him cringe. But it finally became too much. Not knowing when she'd appear or disappear from his life. What she'd want when she showed up. Or how she refused to commit, stringing him along like a junkie needing his next fix. Or maybe it came when he looked at Alicia on St. Gerard after the Calderone shootout and realized how much she reminded him of Valerie. At least physically.

The warming effect of the scotch was fading, leaving him feeling empty like it always did when the initial rush dropped down to the pit of his stomach. Still, he didn't go inside, looking out instead in the direction of the contested neighborhoods. He knew what the Columbians would do to take control, and he had a damned good idea what the Dominicans would do to keep control of their turf. Still, he kept coming back to the one big question no one could answer: what the hell would Doc do when he felt threatened? Finishing the last of his drink, Rico put the baggie back in his pocket and turned to go inside. He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

 

Dave looked up from his study of the maps and accompanying notes. “Damned good stuff, ladies. My hat's off to you.”

Randy seconded the praise. “We'll set up on the edge of the Double Treys' zone first. It's had the most contact so far and we'll have an easier time sorting out the players.” He looked at the map. “We'll do a run by first and see it from the ground.”

Stan spoke up, looking across the table at a bandaged but willing Lester. “We can do that for you. No one's gonna look twice at the Roach Coach in that neighborhood, and I want to try out those sweet cameras they got hidden in the roach's eyes.”

“And I want to see our new toy.” Lester grinned, wincing as he shifted his arm. “It's about all I'm good for except watching tape reels turn right now.”

Sonny chuckled. It had been an early morning, and he'd left Jenny with a kiss on the forehead. She'd been so tired she didn't even wake up. His head still wasn't totally in the game, but he knew it had to be. He was the boss. “Sounds good to me. Can you take them in the back so they can get eyes on, too?”

Stan nodded. “Sure. I didn't even eat beans last night so you've got a good chance of coming back unharmed.”

“Don't be too sure of that.” Randy nodded to Dave. “He had some kinda black bean thing last night. We might need hazard pay for this one.” He looked at the empty chair near the head of the table. “Is Trudy ok, boss?”

“Got some good news there.” Sonny looked at the assembled team. “Marty's going home today. I gave her the day so she could get him settled in and have some time with him away from the damned hospital stink.”

Mindy smiled. “That's great news!”

Rico seconded the smile. “Yeah. I guess they got that infection under control?”

“No idea. I don't even like hearing about hospitals.” Sonny smiled, glad he'd been able to lift their spirits with some good news. “But I got a call from the chief deputy this morning. His higher is wanting updates, so we need to move on this. Rico and I are meeting with that Trixie again tonight, and if you get a chance, Stan, can you touch based with Gina and see if she's got another other girls in the combat zone? We might need to talk to them at some point.”

“I'm meeting her for lunch, so yeah I can do that.” Stan started to smile, then his expression changed. “She's not gonna want to put any of them in danger, though.”

“We won't talk to them unless it's absolutely necessary. But if she hears girls from those zones say anything it could help us quite a bit.”

“Ok, Sonny. I'll ask. You know Gina, though.”

“Yeah, I do, buddy. We won't push her.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “You get that baggie to the lab?”

“Yeah. They confirmed China White, and damned pure besides. It's the same stuff that was being sold by Tio and Reno.”

Sonny nodded. “Anyone got anything else? No? Then let's get to work, people. Mindy, if you need to get that ankle checked out again take a long lunch. I'll cover the front.” He looked down at his notebook and saw one scratched note. “Rico, you got a second? The rest of you, hit the streets.”

Once they were in the office, Rico shook his head. “It's not good news, is it, Sonny?”

“It's news partner. Don't know if it's good or not.” Sonny looked down at the blurry fax. “Seems DEA had another surveillance photo taken about a week after that first one. The Calderone clan was leaving that compound in a hurry, and they had a baby with them. They're running down the file now. Apparently the Columbian police raided the place something like an hour later and scooped up some confused servants. They're looking for interrogation reports, too.”

“So there's a chance...”

“As of a few years ago, yes.” Sonny raised his hand. “I don't know if you can get your hopes up or not, but I told you I'd let you know as it came in. Good or bad.” He smiled. “I'd call this neutral.”

Rico nodded. “Thanks, Sonny. I'm gonna go see if Mindy needs any help before she heads out.”

Alone in the office, Sonny sank back in the chair and turned to look out the window. His first hour had been spent fielding calls from one agency or another, all wanting something he either couldn't or wouldn't provide. Only the chief deputy had been helpful. “Tell 'em to stuff it,” he thundered down the line. “And send 'em to me if they don't like it. I'll give you cover until Castillo gets back. No knock on your ability, son, but you ain't got the rank to fight these bastards. I do.”

Even now, hours removed from the conversation, he had to chuckle when he thought of the chief deputy's voice. It was hard to believe, but he'd yet to actually meet the man. It was going to be hard to reconcile the voice with what he'd heard the man actually looked like. But he decided he was looking forward to it. If things ever slowed down enough to allow office calls. Right now the chances of that seemed slight.

The fax machine gave off one of its truncated rings and hummed to life. Sonny flinched. He'd come to hate that sound, since it usually meant more paperwork or some bit of administrative minutiae he'd managed to miss. He really wanted to hand the whole mess off to Mindy, but knew that wasn't right. “Just because it sucks doesn't mean I can duck it,” he muttered, lighting the first cigarette of the day and walking over to the machine. He'd been thinking about cutting back again, but found it hard when confronted with a wall of paper mixed with responsibility.

“Shit.” A single word. Then he looked out the door. “Is Stan still here?”

Rico looked up from the table where he was huddled with Mindy going through the last of the files the chief deputy had sent over. “No. He and the rest of the boys headed out as soon as we turned our backs.”

“I can get him on the van phone.” Mindy's eyes were bright. “Is it important?”

Sonny looked down at the fax with the ATF shield prominent at the top. “You know what? No. It's not. They can get their own taps on Holmes and his crew. I'm not giving those cowboys ours. They want the glory, they can do the work for a change.”

Rico nodded. “Solid. Besides, we might need those things ourselves.”

“Yeah. If the Columbians need more guns I'll bet they reach out. The Mendoza brothers did some trade with him, and we know Moncado did. They're gonna at least know who he is.”

“But will he sell to them?” Mindy looked puzzled. “I hear he's an old-school redneck.”

“Yeah, but their money's green same as everyone else's.” Sonny chuckled. “He's what we call a practical racist down here. He won't sell 'em the heavy artillery, but he's not opposed to a few MAC-10s among friends.”

“So long as they just kill each other.” Rico nodded. “At least that's the word on the street. We never got close to him, but the Mendozas always complained that he had AKs and wouldn't sell them. They wanted those assault rifles in the worst way.”

Sonny nodded, deciding as he turned. “I'm gonna tell them the taps got blown with the rest of our Pedrosa-related stuff. Then we can have our private stash.”

“Is there a chance they'll find ours if they put their own in?”

“I doubt it, Rico. Stan's damned good at what he does, and those went in later in the game. When he and Lester were really hitting their stride.” Sonny shook his head. “No, I think we gotta worry more about the ATF screwing up our game than us messing with theirs.” Back at his desk, he scribbled a note on the bottom of the fax and sent it through the machine. “They can chew on that,” he muttered, sitting back down to sign off on a small stack of requisitions, mostly ammunition and some surveillance gear for Dave and Randy.

Sonny was done by mid-afternoon, and rose to find himself alone in the office. Tubbs had vanished to parts unknown, but he could account for everyone else. He looked at his watch and smiled. Trudy should be picking up Marty right about now if the doctors hadn't changed their minds.

[mjcmmv]

Your dialogue is so good. Can't wait to have Marty back. 

The scene in the strip club was a riot! And the gun tutorial! That was awesome

Sonny's new streak of responsibility is something I could see happening under the circumstances. He's watching out for others, not just himself. I'm beginning to feel sorry for him with Jenny. She is a mystery and I'm afraid he's going to get hurt-and maybe more than heart-wise.