Echoes - Part V

[Robbie C.]

Trudy settled in behind the wheel of the Challenger, looking over and smiling at Martin Castillo. The hospital bracelet dangled loose at his wrist, begging for the scissors she'd take to it as soon as they were home. His eyes were closed, but she could see the faint smile on his lips. He was ready to leave, too.

The big V-8 rumbled to life, and they eased out of the loading zone and into traffic. Marty opened his eyes and looked over at her. “Sounds like a real car, doesn't it?

“Yes. I don't know where you found it, but it's perfect.” She sighed. “My brother always wanted one just like it. It'll be sad when I have to turn it back in.”

“You don't have to.” He closed his eyes and eased back in the seat. “I bought it from seized property. It's yours.”

“Marty? What?” She gaped at him, trying to keep one eye on the road so she didn't ram into any unsuspecting tourists or taxis. “How much was it?”

“Not as much as it's worth.” He didn't open his eyes, but she saw his lips twitch into a smile. “I persuaded the clerk to discount it a bit.”

They drove in silence for a time while she tried to wrap her head around what he'd said. First he wanted her to move in, then he bought her a car. It all seemed so right, but sometimes she felt her brain lurch like a car slammed into gear without enough clutch. She gripped the wheel with both hands, letting her heart do the talking. She understood then why he'd done it, and she loved him even more. It wasn't just about her brother or her sister. It was about her and him.

They were waiting at a light before the freeway on ramp when Marty opened his eyes and looked out the window. “What's that kid doing?”

Trudy looked and saw a Mustang lurching forward, stopping, and doing it again. The driver looked over, mirrored aviator shades reflecting the sunlight in a sharp dazzle, nodded, and lurched the car again. “He wants to race.” She chuckled. “He's an idiot. I don't care if that's one of the new 5.0 Mustangs. He doesn't have a chance.” She looked sideways at Marty.

“He wants to race.” It came out as a statement and not a question. Reaching into his shirt pocket, Marty pulled out sunglasses that were almost black and slid them on. Then he smiled. Really smiled and said something Trudy never thought she'd hear him say. “Smoke him, baby.”

Not trusting her voice, she just nodded and made eye contact with the kid. She nodded, pointing to the cross street light. She gave the Challenger a bit of gas, smiling as the engine rumbled, anticipating the race. She'd never really raced herself, but she'd ridden with her brother enough times she knew the moves. And she'd tried the Challenger out by herself on enough paved side streets and back roads she knew how it accelerated and its little quirks. She looked at the light, watching it go yellow and started counting. “Five seconds,” she muttered, foot on the gas. Waiting. “Three...two...” Realizing it was Marty's voice doing the count now. Then her light went green.

Tires screamed as she floored the gas, the Challenger leaping away like it had been shot from a cannon. The kid tried, but it was no match at all. The big 440 howled under full power as Trudy grinned, knowing somewhere her brother was proud. On paper the Mustang should have been close, but whoever owned the Challenger before her had done some serious work on the engine. Tires barked as it shifted into high gear, rocketing up the on-ramp like a candy apple red missile, and she saw the kid concede defeat before they reached the highway. Still, she stayed on the gas, avoiding the traffic with a skill that might have made Crockett jealous. She was just enjoying it all. The thunder of the engine, the feel of the car, the way the suspension responded to every little shift of the steering wheel, and maybe most of all the smile that still decorated Martin Castillo's face.

“I've never done that before,” he said once she eased back on the gas and was flowing with the usual afternoon traffic. “Never raced anyone in a car. I was always in some jungle somewhere. Fighting someone else's war and then my own war.”

“I haven't done it since my brother was killed. I used to go out with him when he was prowling for a race. He said I brought him luck.” Trudy smiled at the memory. “I think he was just trying to get me out of the house. It wasn't always so great there, and when I was helping him with a car or out looking for a race it was...safe, I guess.”

“I used to feel that way in the jungle. Or the mountains. It was terrain I understood. Even after Menton's ambush I still felt safe in the jungle.” Castillo closed his eyes again. “But things change.”

She helped him into the house, smiling again as he insisted they stop to admire the car. “I'll get you settled and then I'll grab your bag,” she said as she unlocked the door. “You don't want to go running down to the beach just yet.”

“As long as I can hear it they know I'm back,” he said, and she knew the painkillers will still doing their work. Still, she also understood what he meant. Some of those nights when she slept her alone she'd been sure she felt Jess' presence near the house. Something keeping watch, letting her know she was safe. He looked at her face and nodded. “You've felt them too. Good. That means the spirits have accepted you.”

“I don't...”

“I learned many things in those mountains in Laos from the Hmong there. That was one of them. The spirits are everywhere. Some strong, others weak.” Marty smiled again, sinking into the chair she set on the deck looking out toward the waves. “I didn't believe it at first, either, but then I found out. Or they found me. I think that's what the elder would have said. Think of the car. How it felt like there was someone else with us. Maybe there was.” He smiled again. “It's the pills. But I'm also tired. And glad Maynard wasn't a better shot.”

“Let me get your bag and I'll bring you some water. The nurse said you need to stay hydrated, especially with those antibiotics.” She kissed him on the forehead and walked back through the house, letting her mind wrap itself around what he'd said. It wasn't her first experience with strange...hell, I still can't look at peanut butter without wanting to scream. And what he said made sense. It had felt like someone's hand was on the wheel with hers when they shot up the ramp. Just like she'd never worried about what might be outside, because the feeling matched exactly what Marty had told her about Jess. Right down to the way the waves sounded.

He was asleep when she returned to the deck, his sunglasses sliding down his nose in the afternoon heat. Smiling, she pushed them back up and set the glass of ice water on the arm of his chair so it would be close by when he woke up. “A little sun won't hurt,” she muttered. “But I won't let you burn.”

Inside she turned to making things ready for a recovering man. She moved some of the low chairs near windows, so he could still look out even if he couldn't walk around as much. The bedroom didn't need much attention, but she tossed his dirty clothes in the small washer and started a cycle. Stepping out, she found him in the main room, looking around with his water in his hand. “I missed this place,” he said as if seeing it for the first time. “But I missed being with you in this place more.”

They sat for a time and talked as the sun slid toward the ocean. She told him of Sonny's first days in charge. “He's not doing bad at all,” she said with some wonder in her voice. “I never thought the cowboy could settle down.”

“He's always had it in him. It showed when he apologized to Stan. And when I heard what he did with Maynard I knew he was ready.”

“Who told you?” Trudy hadn't mentioned it because she still wasn't sure how to take the whole thing. And her memory was spotty after seeing Marty slumped in a pool of his own blood.

“Randy. We spoke about it for a time. He was willing to give himself up to save all of you. That's what a leader does.”

“And look where it got you.” She regretted the words as soon as she said them, but he just smiled.

“A vacation with the woman I love. I'd say it's a price well-paid.”

 

The sun faded away, and Sonny still sat at the damned desk working through papers. Stan and Lester had checked in late that afternoon, leaving a list of warrant requests and an excited Dave and Randy who wanted to start working their overwatch the next day. Sonny nodded, knowing the warrants required more paperwork and that he'd not be leaving until it was done or it was time to go see Trixie. And as the hours ticked by he knew which deadline would hit first.

Tubbs danced in sometime after seven, clutching a greasy paper bag. “I thought I'd find you here. Brought you one of Roscoe's best bacon cheeseburgers and fries.”

“Thanks. Just trying to finish up on the warrant requests for Stan and Lester.”

“Solid. And I tracked down that weasel Izzy this afternoon at that fleapit of a hotel. He's on the case, or so he says.” Rico chuckled, pulling his own burger out of the bag. “But I did worm out of him that he's tight with one of the Dominicans. So there might actually be something to his noise for a change.”

“I hope so. We could use some fresh intel.” Sonny looked down at the pile of papers and sighed. “Something fresher than Trixie at least.” He pulled his own burger out of the bag, unwrapped it, and pulled off the pickles. “Never know how long those damned things have been sitting open on the counter,” he said by way of explanation. “At least Roscoe's onions are fresh.”

“Unlike this bag of fries.” Rico tore open a packet of ketchup and squirted the contents onto a napkin. “But what the hell, right? It's food.”

“Pretty much.”

They ate in silence for a time, watching as clouds slid in from the ocean and rain started tapping on the windows. Rico shook his head. “Great. Now I gotta get wet on top of everything else.”

“Yeah, but it might wash the Rizzo's stink away faster.”

He nodded. “Point. That place runs up my cleaning bills.”

“I'll bet Marty loves it, though. Trudy called to say she got him home in one piece.”

“That's good news. He's one tough cat.” Rico smiled, taking a bite of his burger. “Just call us Task Force Timex. Takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'.”

“You've got something there, partner.” Sonny laughed and scribbled the note on his pad. “We just might have to do that.”

The rain kept falling while they ate and joked, and soon it wasn't possible to delay any longer. Sonny wadded up the bag and tossed the remains of the meal in the trash. “Guess it's almost showtime, Rico. I'll try not to scare the piss out of her this time.”

“We got this one sewed up. Unless she's too high to remember her dealer's name.”

“That is a worry. Well, let's get on with it. The sooner we're done, the less likely it is we pick up some contact disease from her.”

“Did Stan ever hear back from Gina?”

“If he asked over lunch he didn't say. And I didn't ask. Gina's not one to push about things like that.”

“Yeah. Stan's a smart cat. He'll work it out one way or the other.”

Rain splattered the windshield of the Ferrari, only to be swept away in turn by the wiper blades. It was coming down heavy, and Sonny could feel the tires float from time to time as they passed through spots where the storm drains weren't keeping pace. At least I got the boat shut up before I left this morning he thought, turning into Rizzo's parking lot and managing to find a spot close to the door. Elvis is gonna be pissed, though. He hates wet kibble. He shut off the car and looked over at Rico. “I hope that suit don't melt.”

“Just stay out of my way until we get to that damned awning.” Rico grinned and reached for the door.

The air conditioning chilled Sonny to the bone until it leeched some of the moisture from his blazer. The doorman sent them through with a grin, and soon enough the cigarette smoke wrapped itself around them like a fog, welcoming them to Rizzo's. Even with a drink special the place was almost half-empty, and the girls looked to be dancing more out of reflex than any desire to earn tips from men who weren't there.

They spotted Trixie soon enough; her blue hair made her hard to miss. She'd switched her first dance with another girl in exchange a drink tray, and her face lit up when she saw Sonny and Rico by the bar. “Heads up,” Sonny whispered. “Incoming.”

“You boys want a drink? Or something stronger?” Her voice was slurred, but more from the buzz that came from a needle.

Rico looked at Sonny and shook his head. “Trixie! Come on over. My friend sends his compliments. That taste was excellent, and he wants more. He's looking for quantity, though.”

“I don't understand?”

“Means he wants more than a baggie or two, darlin'.” Sonny leaned over, feeling her pull back but not letting his sympathy for the girl show through the Burnett mask. “Means he wants more than you got.”

“My friend here is a bit blunt, but it's true.” Tubbs raised his hands and shrugged. “He's talking more than a few grams.”

Her eyes went wide. “But I don't have that much!”

Sonny took her by the arm, careful to use a light touch, and guided her toward the far end of the bar. “I know, darlin'. That's why we said something about your source last night. Your dealer. Remember?”

“My dealer? He's a nice guy. You'll like him. He don't take freebies, either.” She smiled, showing those bad teeth again. “He's got class like you guys do.”

“He got a name?” Sonny tried not to show any emotion, keeping Burnett firmly in place.

Rico turned on a touch of the Cooper charm. “We just want to talk with him. And we'll get you a finder's fee. Some money for setting us up to meet. We'll take care of you.”

She looked from one man to the other, fear still clear in her eyes when she looked at Sonny. Finally she nodded. “That sounds fair. I mean, it sounds really fair. He'll be in soon. He always comes by on Thursday to hook me up.” She looked back to Sonny. “Promise me you won't mess him up? Nicky's a nice guy.”

Well, well. “Don't worry, darlin'. It so happens I know Nicky. We go back a ways. He's safe with me. I promise.”

She tottered away on unstable heels, and Rico looked like he was about to explode. “We came to this disease-infested cesspool only to find out we're meeting Nicky Fuentes?”

“Look at it this way, Rico. At least it's the scumbag we know instead of a new scumbag we don't. And you'll look natural still trying to find a solid heroin supplier. Mr Cooper from New York City, that is.”

Tubbs nodded, straightening his tie. “There is that. And here the little chump comes now. He look like he's thinking of running? He is supposed to be in hiding, after all.”

“Kinda, but Trixie's got him now. I don't see how that girl can move so fast in those heels as high as she is.” Sonny watched, calling the action like a radio announcer. “She's got him. Nicky looks spooked. Is he gonna run? Thinking about it. Now she's showing him the money. Got her hand on his junk. Nicky's confused. More money talk, I'd say. And he's sold. Here he comes.”

Nicky sauntered over, sweat beading on his forehead as he drew near. “Sonny! Rico! Long time no see. I was afraid you got swept up in that whole shitstorm with the Coast Guard.”

Rico smiled. “We're slicker than that, Nicky. Can't say the same for your associates, though.”

Sonny nodded. Nicky was still wearing the same pink tux and still failing at the tough junior high kid look. Some things never change. “Yeah. Made me wonder if you're worth dealing with. Trixie says you are, and Cooper's a forgiving kinda guy.” The 'but I'm not' hung unspoken in the thick air.

“Sure he is. I've known that for a while now. We go back, don't we, Cooper?”

“Not as far as Burnett and I do. And I'm not interested in a freebie from you, so let's get down to it.”

“That's funny.” Nicky's laugh was a strangled, high thing that made Sonny want to punch him in the throat. “So what are we talkin' about?”

“The product we got from Trixie last night. Red Cross looks to be the brand. My associate was impressed by the quality. It's better than the sample we got from the late and unlamented Tio.”

“Tio liked to step on the product. I don't.” Nicky grinned, showing teeth almost as back as Trixie's. “You got to respect the brand or it ain't worth nothin'.”

“Oh, I agree. That's why we want Red Cross. At least a pound of it.”

“A...a pound?”

“Too much weight for you, Nicky boy?” Sonny leaned around Rico, reminding the punk he was still there. “Maybe we should talk to your boss.”

“No, Burnett. I am the boss. It's just...this stuff takes time to bring in, you know? It's not stepped on by some wetback smuggler and it ain't Mexican brown. China White straight from the Golden Triangle. The promised land. The thing is, it's harder to speed up flow at that distance.”

“Well you do what you can, Nicky. My associates are already a bit pissed about the whole Tio incident. Much more and they'll send me someplace else to look. And you'll miss all that money.”

“What are we talkin', Cooper?”

“Enough so you don't have to beg freebies from Trixie.” Rico smiled. “We'll talk price once I know you can actually deliver. My associates were disappointed once. I'm not going to make that mistake again.”

“What mistake?”

“Taking some punk's word without product in hand.” Sonny stepped around Rico and got up in Nicky's face. “Look...we've been jacked around by you assholes enough. No one's taking your word for squat until you prove you can deliver.”

Rico touched Sonny's arm. “Sorry, Nicky. Burnett gets a little hot when someone tries to kill him and he loses his piece of what might have been a multi-million dollar deal. I'm sure you understand.”

Nicky took several deep breaths. The sweat was running down his forehead now, and Sonny shifted to be upwind in case other substances started running freely. He hadn't intended to get that aggressive, but it looked to have worked. “You got it, Cooper. You got it. Look. Give me your pager number and I'll call you tomorrow with details. We can meet and you can inspect the product. Ok? You ok with that, Burnett?”

“I'll let you know tomorrow. After we see the goods.” Sonny turned, leaving Rico to sort out the details. He'd done his bit. Now it was time for Cooper to work his magic.

It was still raining when they left Rizzo's, a steady drizzle calculated to soak a man through over time instead of just washing him away. They stood under the awning while Sonny lit a cigarette. “You think he pissed his pants?”

“I don't know, Tubbs. Didn't stay in close nose range to find out. It got the point across, though.”

“That it did.” Rico looked like he was thinking hard about something. “That it did.”

“You think I cut it too close? Is that it?”

“No. I think you played it just right. What bothers me is I didn't see it coming. I didn't even think to lean on the little chump.”

Sonny sent a stream of smoke into the wet air as they walked to the Ferrari. “Nicky's not an easy one to take seriously, man. Especially in that damned pink tux of his. No reason you'd think to lean on him.”

“That's not it.” Tubbs waited until the Ferrari was in traffic heading back to the underground garage. “My mind was only half in it, Sonny. The other...”

“Yeah, I get it. Rico Junior. Trust me, Tubbs, I'm pushing those bozos as hard as I can. Where there's one photo there's gotta be more. You know the DEA. You'll have your answer, partner. Even if I have to beat it out of the regional supervising agent downtown.”

“That grease stain? Hell, I'd pay to watch that.” Rico was quiet for a time. “Thanks. Sonny. I owe you one.”

“No, you don't. We're all square as far as I'm concerned. You deserve to know, and I'm gonna do what I can to close that for you.” He turned the Ferrari into the garage and left the engine running. “Get some rest and come in focused in the morning. You cool to head home?”

“Yeah. See you in the morning.” Tubbs got out and Sonny watched him fire up the big Caddy and wheel out into the falling rain. I know what it feels like to lose a son, he thought as he put the Ferrari in gear and headed for the marina. I hope we get some answers for him.

 

Ricardo Tubbs stared straight ahead through the swiping wiper blades, focusing on the path his headlights blazed through the falling rain and reflected off the wet streets. He didn't really want to go back to Casa Cooper alone, but he also knew he wasn't going to call Debbie and lead her on or call Nita and get some kind of fight going between the two. No, he'd have to sort this one out on his own.

He'd thought leaving New York would change things. Leave his mess of a family behind and start over. But New York had a way of following him, first as Valerie and later as Angelina. Valerie he could blame because, as always, she knew what she was doing. Angelina had been a total accident, but one that had its start in New York. If her father hadn't have had Rafael killed he wouldn't have been following the man and never would have seen her painting on the beach. And he would never had had a son.

Parking the big car, he rode the quiet elevator up to the top floor and went through the ritual of hanging up his jacket and tie. The apartment was dark, with only the low hiss of the air ducts competing with rain pattering on the big glass windows. Smiling, he walked over to the stereo and hit buttons, flooding the corner of the room with a soft blue glow as the equalizer kicked on and the turntable arm fell on an album. Charlie Parker's plaintive saxophone filled the room, tripping up and down the scales of “April in Paris.” Jazz was one of his secret passions, something he turned to when he needed to get his head right. It was a habit he'd picked up from his mother.

Filling a glass with ice cubes, he poured scotch and stood in front of the sliding glass door, watching water stream down as the rain caught on the top ledge and flowed down to the sloping patio surface. It felt too good in the room to open the door, but he could still look out and pretend he could smell the rain in the air.

“What the hell am I gonna do?” The question hung in the air, suspended by Parker's mournful notes. He enjoyed the hell out of the task force, and the latitude they had for conducting operations thrilled him to the core. But it was his life outside of work, or to be more accurate his total lack of a life outside of work, that worried him the most. Finding his son was more an excuse than a goal if he was honest with himself. If the boy was dead, it was over. And if he wasn't, it might as well be over, too. How could he rip a kid away from the only family he'd ever known and think he'd be better off?

There were no easy answers. He'd known that as soon as his father cut him out of his life, angry his only surviving son had betrayed him by continuing to wear the uniform he blamed for the death of his oldest child. He'd told himself that he'd come to Miami to avenge Rafael and make his father proud, but in the end it had been all about revenge and getting away.

The ice cubes were cold against his teeth as Rico took a drink. It was no accident. He only wanted one drink, and the best way to do that was make it weak and cold by having it on the rocks. It was all about taking the edge off tonight. He smiled as the album rolled on to the next track and more Bird flowed like sonic gold through the room. He could feel things settling down inside, falling into place where they'd been jumbled before. Maybe now he could sleep.

 

Sonny Crockett wasn't sure what he'd find when he parked at the marina. Jenny's boat was still tied up, and with her he could never be sure if she'd be there or on board the St Vitus Dance. She'd shown a knack for breaking into his boat, but never strayed past the main saloon. Another of her quirks he had a hard time sorting through. If she was keeping tabs on him, wouldn't she want to go through the entire boat? Or was it something else? He still didn't know, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. Especially since he could feel himself falling for her.

The Vellamo was dark and quiet, without even the firefly of a Virginia Slims in the rear seating area to mark her passing. “Great,” he muttered as he walked by. “She's either asleep or waiting for me.” Given her strange mood the night before he found himself wishing she was asleep in her own berth. Then he saw a flickering light through the open port and knew exactly where she was. “Damn.”

The companionway was open, and a fed and happy Elvis lounged in his usual spot in the bow. Ducking his head he went below and found her sitting at the small table, cards laid out in front of her and her clothes laid neatly on the galley counter. Rain thudded on the cabin roof, and the candle flickered with each breath of air, sending narrow shadows shooting across her high breasts and thick hair.

She'd done the candle and no clothes routine before, but this was the first time he'd seen her with Tarot cards. It wasn't Sonny's first encounter with them, but he'd never actually seen anyone using them before. She looked up when he came down, her eyes bright but her lips sad. “You finally came home,” she said, making it sound more like an accusation.

“Maybe I should just give you a key to the place.” The words came out sharper than he'd intended, and he smiled to ease the sudden hurt in her eyes. “Sorry...it's been a long day. But just seeing you like that helps. Anyone ever tell you you're beautiful?”

“No.” Her voice was serious. “Pretty or cute, but never beautiful.”

“Then they never saw you like this.” He looked down at the cards. “You do that often?”

“Not really.” She gave them a final look, as if she was memorizing each card and its exact position, then swept them aside with her long fingers. “And before you ask, they didn't say anything important. It's a way to pass time.” He could see the lie in her eyes before she blinked and swept it away, too. Then she stood up, hands at her sides, letting him see all of her. “Am I still beautiful?”

“Of course.”

“What about now?” She blew out the candle, plunging the saloon into sudden darkness.

What the hell is she playing at? “Sure. You're beautiful because you're you.”

She giggled, and a match flared yellow and gold as she lit the candle again. “You're sweet to say that. Come over here and let me show you how sweet I think you are.”

As they came together, him shedding his clothes with help from her long, eager fingers, he couldn't shake the look he'd seen in her eyes just before she stood up. What the hell is this girl playing at? Can't roll with this much longer, I don't think. Shit is getting strange. Then her lips found him and he forgot all about strange.

She was still asleep in the aft stateroom when the sun started peaking over the eastern horizon. Sonny crawled out of bed without waking her and went about making coffee and getting ready to head in. She only stirred when he kissed her lightly on the lips. “Rest easy, baby. I'll look for you tonight either here or on Vellamo.” He hoped she'd be on her boat, but he'd learned by now never to assume anything where Jenny Walker was concerned.

Mindy had beaten him to work. Again. Sonny smiled, convinced now he'd have to sleep in the office to get there first. And even then he wasn't sure she wouldn't invent a time machine just to arrive two seconds before he did. She looked up from her paper, her blue eyes bright as ever. “Good morning, boss. Any luck with Trixie last night?”

“Yeah. She gave us Nicky Fuentes on a platter. At least we don't have to go digging around in any sewers to find the little rat now.” He chuckled. “Any urgent calls I can ignore for at least an hour?”

“Nothing urgent. Just another fax from ATF wanting to know why we don't have taps on Lester Holmes' operation.”

“Shred that mother. They got the only answer I'm gonna give them.”

She smiled. “Consider it done. Oh, and you had a message from Gina. She said to give her a call sometime after ten.”

“How did she sound?”

“Fine. I could hear Stan in the background so I'd guess she called from home.”

“If Stan makes it in undamaged she's in a good mood. If he's got black eyes or missing limbs I'm not returning the call.” Sonny laughed, the mood he'd carried since last night sliding away. “I'm gonna go check those urgent faxes. Let me know if anything comes up. And have Rico stop by when he gets in.”

“You got it, boss.” She smiled and went back to her Miami Herald.

Castillo's office was cool and dim, the sun blocked by blinds drawn the night before. Sonny left them alone; he'd come to appreciate Castillo's habit of working in the dark. Switching on the desk lamp, he pulled a small stack of papers off the fax machine and started flipping through them. “Another exciting day of pushing paper,” he muttered. “I don't know how Marty could stand it.”

In the end it was Randy who saved him by sticking his head in the office door. “Boss? You got a second? Dave and I have some overwatch ideas.”

Sonny dropped the papers with a grin. “Sure. Anything's better than death by blurry interoffice fax.”

They had the map spread out on the big table, Dave sitting on one side with what looked to be a stack of range cards. Stan and Lester had snuck in at some point, and they sat together with notebooks comparing something they'd each scribbled to the actual map. Randy waved Sonny to his new seat at the head of the table.

“We took the roach coach all over this AO,” he said, lapsing into military jargon when he called the map an area of operations. “And we think we got some high ground spotted where we can overwatch these intersections.” He pointed to zones on the map colored red. “Like we said yesterday, those are the main combat zones right now. From here” - he pointed to a building - “we can cover these two perfectly. The building's six stories. It's an old hotel someone tried to convert to office space, so half of it's unoccupied.”

“At least half.” Dave snorted. “Getting roof access should be easy as hell. We can infil during the afternoon and exfil before dawn.”

“According to the intel we got, these zones are most active as soon as the sun goes down. We'll do some spotting during the day, but we think it'll be most productive at night.”

Sonny nodded. “You have the night vision stuff today. Set up as soon as you're ready. I want some faces to go with names and a better idea of what's happening down there.” Then he thought back to last night. “There's a guy you'll need to watch for. I'll have his file for you before you leave. Nicky Fuentes. He's the face of the heroin so far, and he's back on the street. Tubbs and I met him again last night. He knows Burnett and Cooper from the Moncado operation so we've saved some time.”

Stan chuckled. “Lester and I were just plotting tap locations and the best times to put them in. Assuming you got the warrant paperwork done.”

“Who do you think you're dealing with?” Sonny laughed. “Wait...you know who you're dealing with. Yeah, Stan. I got those done last night. Even signed my own name and everything without Tubbs' help.”

“So I'm five minutes late and you're already talking bad about me?” Rico looked tired, but the box of donuts he carried explained why he was late. “Mindy already picked hers, and I'm saving the chocolate old-fashioned for Trudy. Take it and you answer to her.”

They talked around the table for a few more minutes, Sonny mostly clarifying small details and making sure everyone had the gear they needed. “We'll borrow a Ma Bell truck for you, Stan, so you don't look out of place climbing poles with the roach coach parked nearby.” He looked at Stan's remaining bandages. “You sure you can make it up a phone pole?”

“Lester and I drew straws. I lost.” Stan chuckled. “No, I'm good, Sonny. Truth is I could use the exercise.”

Sonny smiled and looked at his watch. “Just after ten. Not bad. Let's get to work, girls.” He sighed. “And I've got paper to fight still.”

Rico followed him into the office. “Not a peep from Nicky yet.”

“Not surprised. I'm getting Randy and Dave his picture so they can keep an eye out for the little punk.” Sonny flipped through the faxes that had come in during the roundtable and leaned out the door. “You got your warrants, Stan. Have Mindy call about the van. My authority.”

“Any word from Trudy?”

“No, but last night was Marty's first night home. I figure she'll get here when she gets here.”

“Solid.” Tubbs nodded.

“Now I gotta call Gina.” He reached for the phone, not sure quite what to expect.

The familiar voice answered the second ring. “Detective Calabrese.”

“It's Sonny.”

There was a long pause. “Stan told me you wanted something from my girls, Crockett.”

Sonny gave Rico a thumbs down. It's never good when she uses my last name. “It's nothing like that, Gina. I don't want 'em to wear wires or do anything that would put them in danger. We just need information about these neighborhoods.” He rattled off the bordering street names almost by memory now. “What they see. Who's selling. Who's packing heat. What the Feds call 'atmospherics' these days, I guess. I don't even need to talk to them if that makes you feel better.”

He heard her exhale. “It does, Sonny. You talking to someone usually leads to a wire or something worse.” He heard papers shifting. “I can put some stuff together for you. I've got a few girls who come from those areas. Some of them still work there, or get their drugs there. How soon do you need it?”

“The sooner the better, darlin'. We're playing catch-up over here. Metro-Dade knows where the bodies are falling, but they don't seem to know much about why.” He paused. “I owe you, Gina.”

“I know you do, Sonny. Don't let Stan do anything crazy.” Then she hung up.

“That didn't sound good.”

“As good as can be expected, I guess.” Sonny hung up the phone with a rueful expression. “She's still pissed about Stan and I'm a handy target, I guess.”

“Hell, she should be pissed at Moncado. Or Holmes. He sold them that LAW. At least be pissed at the right person.”

“You know Gina, Rico.” Sonny scratched his chin. “ATF was after those taps again today. Maybe we should start keepin' tabs on what they're doing over there.”

“Who's got the time? Let them put on their fancy windbreakers and strut around busting cowboys and bikers.”

Dave stuck his head in. “At least it ain't the Feebs floundering around holding press conferences. ATF ain't bad. Some of 'em, anyhow.” He chuckled. “Just wanted you to know that gear came in, boss. Deputy from the office brought it over.”

“Good.” Sonny looked at Dave for a moment. “I thought your brother was FBI. You don't like them much, do you?”

“Was FBI. He was workin' a case in Butte. Something with deep Mafia ties. Then he an' his wife get killed in what they claimed was a car accident. Drunk driver, even though the other driver disappeared clean off the earth. Even Butte PD didn't buy the story, but the Feebs shouted 'case closed' and shut the whole thing down tight as you please.”

“So they hung one of their own?”

“Looked like it to me. The Special Agent in Charge was a grade-A prick looking to make a name for himself, but not by rattling the cage of the Mafia.” Dave frowned. “Sad thing is they left a kid behind. A son. He was in high school at the time, and I couldn't get back to do anything for him. Not that I'd be much damned help with a kid anyhow.”

“What happened to him?”

“College. Then he kinda dropped out of sight. Last I heard he might have been recruited by the CIA.” Dave shook his head. “Damned smart kid. Quiet, though. And a hell of a pistol shot. Can't say I've seen many who are better, and the last time I saw him shoot he was fifteen.” He shrugged. “Sorry for the long answer, boss. But that's why I hate the Feebs.”

Rico nodded. “Hell, I hate them after hearing that story.”

“You and Randy need anything else? Grab what you need and set up when you like. Brief me in the morning just so I know how it went if you need any support. After that, I'm good with logs and spot reports if anything juicy shows up. You guys don't need hand-holding and I ain't a hand-holding kinda guy.”

Once Dave left, Rico turned to Sonny with a hurt expression. “You always said you'd hold my hand.”

“So I lied.” Sonny chuckled.

“Where do you need me today, partner?”

“Good question, Rico. I wish I had as good an answer for you.” Sonny leaned back in the chair, realizing he'd never seen Castillo do that in all the years he'd worked for the man. “We're kinda stuck until you hear from Nicky or that weasel Moreno turns up something. It's too soon to go bugging him again, and when you do I want to come along.” He waved his hand at the papers. “Even bumping gums with Izzy Moreno is better than this crap. Maybe Mindy's got something. I know she's still scrambling until Trudy comes back full time.”

“Yeah. I'll check.” Rico nodded, but didn't move.

Sonny noticed the distance in his eyes. “Out with it, partner. Your son still bothering you?”

“It's that, Sonny, and more. Hell, man. Seems like everyone's moving forward except me.”

“Except us, you mean.” Sonny turned and looked out the big window without seeing the blue sky on the other side. “Hell, man. I'm only sitting in this chair because Castillo took one that might have been meant for one of us. I get it, Rico. I do. Hell, I went to college, joined the Marines, to get away from all this and now I'm right back in it. Only the names change. If you squint even the faces seem to stay the same.”

“Yeah. I left New York to start over.”

“Valerie bugging you again?”

“No. I finally got over that one. It's more the baggage. I never would have met Angelina if Calderone hadn't have had Rafael killed. In New York.”

“Yeah. And I've got this weird lady who keeps showing up in my boat wearing nothing or next to nothing and talking in riddles. Even Elvis don't snarl at her anymore.” He shook his head. “I can't tell if she's playing me or is just another one of the crazies attracted to the Sonny charm.”

“Shades of Margaret from New York.”

“Yeah, except Jenny makes Margaret look like a Sunday school teacher.” Sonny sighed. “Look at us, man. Two guys crawling into middle age whining about our ladies. Maybe we should join one of those bowling leagues.”

“Middle age? Speak for yourself, Crockett. Ricardo Tubbs is still in his prime!”

“Knock it off, man. The only reason you wanted to meet Izzy alone yesterday is so you could buy some of those knock-off shoes of his without anyone laughing at you.” Sonny grinned. “Joo know...these come from the very feet of the American Gigolo himself. Joo can even smell his sweat. His mainly essentials.”

“Stop, man. Just stop. And don't let him hear you say that. He might steal the line.”

“I'm just giving you a hard time, Rico. I get it. I feel the same way most days. Maybe you were right, partner. Maybe the Job is all we're supposed to have. Two dinosaurs they send in to clean up the messes.”

“I'll go see if Mindy needs anything. At least she's off those crutches now.” Tubbs got up, but stopped in the doorway. “And Sonny? Thanks.”

“Any time, partner. It's what we do.” But Sonny didn't turn back to his paperwork right away. Instead he turned and looked back out the window, seeing the sky this time. It was the first time he'd ever heard Rico talk about New York that way, and it made him wonder. Was it just thoughts of his son eating at Rico or was something else going on? Since he'd been moved to the corner office they hadn't hung out as much, and he felt like he was losing a connection that had been strong before. Before he could give it much thought the fax machine dinged and started spewing out another sheet of blurry paper.