Echoes - Part VIII

[Robbie C.]

It might slow down a bit while I plot out one or two things...

 

“Can you believe that chump?” Tubbs glared at Izzy from behind his sunglasses.

“Yeah, Rico. I can. He's been doin' this for almost ten years now. Maybe more. And now we've got a name to bounce off Vallencio and our intel ladies.” Sonny turned back toward the Ferrari. “I was going to just call John, but why don't we just stop by?”

Nothing had changed in the Metro-Dade Narcotics office. Desks still sat empty, fans labored against thick humidity, and John Vallencio still sat at his desk working files. He grinned when Sonny and Rico walked in. “Back again? That file help at all.”

“Actually it did, John. Filled in some big gaps. We think we might have found a way into the Dominicans. You know anyone in those gangs named Hernan?”

“Five or six, actually. You got anything else?”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah. We've got intel that says he's the contact point for good old Nicky Fuentes.”

“Interesting.” John chewed on his thumbnail for a moment. “I'd guess he's talking to Hernan Soldado then. He's 8-Ball Kings but has a cousin in the Double Treys. So he can kinda work both sides of the street, even though those two gangs haven't had a falling out in, like, forever.”

“Why this Soldado?” Rico shook his head.

“Because that Hernan's their drug boy. He does most of the gang's fronting and coordinates their street dealers. I hear he's pretty pissed about the Columbians taking out his talent.”

“Yeah. I hear his security's not too good, either.”

“Is there anything you guys don't hear? John shook his head. “We've been hearing rumblings about the same thing. Rumor has it some of his dealers aren't hitting the streets until the Kings hit back against the Columbians.”

“Why haven't they?”

John sighed and rested his hands on his battered desk. “If I knew that I'd win the lottery and tell this job to fuck off. No one seems to have any guess. I've heard things ranging from the old guys don't want a fight to they don't have enough guns to they're afraid of Metro-Dade.” He chuckled. “If you're a betting man, my money ain't on number three.”

“Mine isn't either.” Sonny chuckled. “Nice talking to you, John. Maybe we can return the favor.”

“With that Magic 8-Ball you guys have? It would be a pleasure.” John sighed. “Now I gotta finish this report on the dealer who got gunned down last night.”

“Any idea what he was slinging?”

“You can bet I asked that first thing, Rico. It wasn't heroin. The unis found coke residue in his pockets. No H, though.”

Out on the street, Rico was about to say something when his pager buzzed. “Bout damned time that chump got done with his freebies. I'll call him from the office. Cooper needs to be somewhere else for this one.”

“Yeah, like the airport. Nothing says 'don't jerk me around' like a plane ticket out of town.” Sonny chuckled as he started the Ferrari. “Let's see if we can land this damn minnow and use him as bait for some bigger fish.”

Nicky answered on the second ring. “That planes I hear, Cooper? You're not bailin' on me, are you?”

Sonny snickered as he listened through the headphones Stan had added to the phone. He could practically hear the piss flooding Nicky's pants.

“Maybe I am. But that's because you bailed on me! Two days! My guy doesn't like to wait around. And I think Burnett might be pissed that you screwed up the deal.”

Now Sonny was sure he heard piss. “Burnett? Naw, man. It's nothin' like that. These things take time. What with the heat between the Dominicans and those batshit crazy Columbians and all. And China White's top of the line. It doesn't show up in bales hidden between pallets of bananas, you know.”

“And punks like you don't usually have access to high-grade product. Don't mess with me, Nicky. It's been a long day and I might be out the cost of a plane ticket pretty damned soon. You feel me?”

“Sure, Cooper. Sure. Look, we'll take the cost out of my end. I just need to have a sit-down with my source is all. See about what's on hand. How much weight did your people want?”

“For starters? Try fifty kilos. They might settle for twenty-five, but nothing lower.”

“Fifty?” Nicky's stammer was almost a physical thing shaking the phone lines. “I'll check, man, but I gotta tell ya...with the heat out there he might not have that much on hand.”

“Twenty-five's as low as we go. And if you can't make it happen in twenty-four hours, don't bother calling back. But I would change your ZIP code. I expect Burnett will be wanting to have a word with you.”

Sonny started laughing the second Nicky hung up. “I think the little punk actually pissed himself. He's scared.”

“Yeah. From all sides. That street war's got him spooked, and Burnett just adds gasoline to the fire.”

“Hey Stan! We got a tap on Nicky?”

“Yeah.” Stan stuck his head out the tech room door. “Had one on him since he was one of the Mendoza's runners. It's not high-grade, but it gets the job done.”

“Keep an eye on it. We're looking for a call to someone named Hernan. Or any Dominican.”

“You got it. And how was my favorite con artist?”

“Izzy? Fragrant as usual Too much bullshit and sweat for one human being. We should take up a collection and get him a new jacket. That walking disco ball he's wearing has got to go.”

Randy came out of the office he and Dave shared, munching on the remains of a sandwich. “We're headin' out in a bit for overwatch, boss. New sector, though.”

“Good.” Sonny walked over to the ex-Marine. “I know that wasn't easy last night. Hell, it never is. But we can't get involved. Not directly. Can't let 'em know we're out there.”

“I know, boss. Don't sit right, but I know.” Randy smiled. “Thanks for checkin', though.”

“Seriously. If it gets too bad, take a night or two off. We can find another way.”

“We're good. I'll let you know if that changes.”

Ten minutes later the two men had kitted up and headed for the garage. Once they were gone, Rico turned to Sonny and whistled. “Those are two intense cats.”

“Yeah. And it's not easy for them to sit and watch people get blown away. Even when it's bad guy on bad guy. It would have been easy for them to drop that shooter last night after he'd hit the dealer. Scare the hell out of both sides. But they know we can't afford that.” He sighed. “Doesn't make it any easier on 'em though. If they have another rough night I'll have to find another way. I can't risk burning them out.”

Mindy came in from the outer office. “Boss, we got some notes from a Detective Calabrese while you two were downtown. She says there's more on the way, but she wanted you to see these first.”

“Gina came through.” He took the papers. “Thanks, Mindy. I'll get them to you and Trudy as soon as I've had a look.” Turning, he laid the typescript pages out on the table so he could see the map as he read. He looked up at Tubbs. “Want to give me a hand?”

“Sure. I got nowhere to be until it gets dark. Then I turn into Teddy Prentiss.”

“Taking the old dog out for a walk?”

Tubbs chuckled. “Something like that.” He sat down. “Did Gina come through?”

“It's a damned good start. One of her girls is actually from that neighborhood and gives a solid rundown on the place. Where the hot corners are for dealers and that kind of thing. Turns out that kid isn't the first one who's been taken out there, except the last time it was some kind of Dominican beef.”

“Looks like this other one was first turned out three blocks over. Right where the trouble started.” Tubbs walked up to the map with the paper in his hand and started tracing lines with his finger. “She got out when the Columbians started shooting. I'd guess it was the Blancos judging from where it went down.” He skipped down a couple of lines. “Looks like they hit one of her friends in the crossfire.”

Mindy reached out and snatched up the papers. “If there's that much there I need to get started. See how I can factor it into the areas Dave and Randy have picked for overwatch. Especially if they talk about security from either the Kings or the Treys. If they get made, it's going to be by someone who knows the turf.”

Sonny chuckled. “I'll leave you to it, then. Dave, Randy. You two cool? Need anything we forgot to requisition for you before?”

Randy looked at Dave and answered for them both. “We're good, boss. As soon as Mindy updates Zone B I think we'll head over that way and look at infiltrating.”

“I'll start there, then.” Mindy looked at her notes, stacking Gina's interviewed based on street name. “Looks like there's only three interviews that line up with Zone B, so it won't take long.”

 

Earl Lester Holmes could think of a hundred things he'd rather do than sit on his ass and sweat, but any of them took more effort than he was willing to expend in the summer heat. So he sat behind the bar nursing a Bud and reflecting on the sad state of his business since the colonel had his head removed. Maybe I will have to deal with them damned bikers, after all. I do hate having to back up for those bastards.

Benny came bursting out of the back office, interrupting his musings. “Boss! I just got two of the damnedest calls!”

“Slow down, Benny. Yore gonna melt what little brain you got you keep goin' like that. Now take a breath and tell me slow.”

“Ok, boss.” Benny took four or five deep breaths. “I just got two calls, one almost right after the other. The first was from some Spic callin' hisself Double G, and the second was Eddie sumbitch or somethin'.”

“How'd two spics get this number?”

“They both said they got it from Doc. What doc would have our number, boss?”

Doc. Now that's a name I ain't heard in a while now. “The right kind, Benny. Now you're sure they said Doc?”

“Yeah. It sounded funny so I asked 'em twice. The Double G feller he said he needed a Doc special, an' the other guy just said he wanted what we was sellin'.”

So Doc's asking for a favor? Hell, I guess I can manage that. Within reason. I ain't sellin' LAWs to illegals or Commies, and those Dominicans could be both. “What'd you tell 'em?”

“Said I'd call them right back. Had to check on things. They gave me numbers.” Benny held out a pad with scratches only he could read. Hopefully.

“Good man. What do you think these boys is up to?”

Benny scrunched up his face. Holmes always imagined he could see smoke seeping out of Benny's ears when the man started thinking. “I'd say they're the honchos behind them Dominican gangs in a shootin' war with some Columbian outfits. Most of those Columbians used to run with the Mendoza brothers, so they got better guns.”

“Not for long. You call them two back, Benny, but call Double G first. Find out what they're lookin' to buy and let me know. Then we'll let 'em know what we can supply and how much it'll set them back.” He raised his hand. “I know, Benny. We ain't normally in the business of sellin' to their kind. But we need the cash, and if it lets 'em kill each other off faster I'd say we come out ahead.”

“That's damned smart thinkin', boss. I'll go make them calls. First to Double G like you said.”

As Benny scurried back to the office, Holmes drained the last of his beer and scratched an itch on his ample gut through a stained Smokey and the Bandit t-shirt. He'd known Doc years back, when they were both getting started in their respective fields after Vietnam. Maynard had played a role in that, of course, since Doc had worked with some other spook in Saigon. They had nothing in common, but he liked to think they respected each other's talents. And he must have a damned good reason for sending Dominicans his way. But their money was green like everyone else's, and if it wasn't he'd send them on their way.

Turning, he hauled another beer out of the cooler. It also got him to thinking about that damned bunch of Federals who'd taken out Maynard. A nice gang war was sure to draw them out of the woodwork. Bodies always attracted Federals like shit drew flies, the more the better. If he played this right he might solve a couple of problems at the same time. And he wouldn't have to deal with those damned bikers...

 

The back room was always cooler once the sun went down, and it didn't remind Carlos as much of Saigon. Some days that was a good thing, but other days it made him sad. There were things he missed about Saigon, but there was no going back. He knew that.

Leo cleared his throat. “I just got a call from Eddie. He's got some dealer two steps down the latter who's looking to score fifty keys of our China White.”

“Is this that clown Nicky Fuentes?”

“Eddie didn't say, but my guess is yes. Ever since Tio went down Nicky's been trying to fill his shoes.” Leo chuckled. “Badly.”

“He's a greedy little shit. No way I'm letting him near that much of our product.” It was also tap his reserves to an unacceptable level. The next shipment wasn't due for a couple of weeks, and he had more networks to supply than Eddie and his morons. “Tell Eddie it's a no-go. A hard no-go.”

“Either he's grown a brain or he's got someone doing his thinking for him. He said his guy could make do with twenty-five. I guess Nicky's got some dude from New York City on the hook.”

Carlos nodded, shifting in his low chair as he adjusted his vest made from jungle fatigues with the sleeves cut off. New York? Didn't I hear something about that? “Is this the same cat Tio was trying to make nice with?”

“I don't know, jefe. But I ain't heard of no other out of town buyers in the last month or so.”

“And this cat's got that Burnett guy with him, don't he?”

“That's the word. Burnett does his transportation and plays heavy like he always does. Any time those dudes show up there's a body count.”

“And we don't need body counts, Leo. This Nicky's an idiot. And if Eddie's letting him suck off the tit he's a bigger idiot that I thought.” He leaned forward, his thin face highlighted in the fading yellow light coming through the window. “Find out for me. I know Eddie ain't dealing with Nicky directly. His people would never stand for it. But someone in the 8-Ball Kings is, and I want to know who it is. We need to assess the threat before we commit to anything more than a couple of dime bags.”

Once Leo left, Carlos leaned back in his chair and lit a Camel filterless from the pack beside him. The difference was his were filled with top-end pot instead of tobacco. One of the craftsmen three shops down made them for him, resealing the packs so they looked just like the real thing. Until you fired one up. Pot relaxed him and helped him think. And he needed to think.

He hated showing any part of his hand to that redneck asshole Holmes, but he didn't know any other arms dealers who could provide both quantity and quality on short notice. He was sure Holmes would rip the gangs off, but he could also count on the racist bastard to keep the destruction to a minimum. No assault rifles or explosives. He and Holmes had the same general goal, but with different reasons: bleed the gangs down and eventually stop the war. Holmes would just want to see as many brown people die as possible, while Carlos was more interested in seeing the remains of the Mendoza brothers swept from the streets. They were bad for business.

He let the smoke hiss out his nostrils as the familiar calm flowed through his veins. It was one of those nights where if he closed his eyes he could almost hear the Hueys thumping overhead and the nasal singsong of the mamasans arguing in the street. But there was no distant boom of artillery or the howl of jets coming out of Than Son Nut to strike some target in the flatlands to the west. Occasionally he'd hear a pistol or two popping off in the distance, a reminder of the little feud on the edges of his turf. But tonight it was the calm that mattered. The storm would come soon enough.

 

Ricardo Tubbs couldn't make up his mind as he rode the elevator down to the parking garage. Did he want to head back to Casa Cooper or spend a night as Teddy Prentiss? He still didn't know as he wheeled the Caddy out in the rush hour traffic, sunglasses on the top down. Looking for all the world like an awe-struck tourist from somewhere other than Florida.

It had been good to see Castillo again. The man was tough, damned tough, to be able to come in and run a meeting like that so soon after he'd been shot up. And Rico had no doubt he'd be back at the head of the table in no time. But it had been good to see Sonny step up, even though Rico was sure he'd be more than happy to step back down and away from the fax machine.

He was almost at the point of no return when he eased the Caddy into the right lane and made the turn for the Hilton. It was time to shake up the routine a bit, and maybe see if he could still make Teddy Prentiss work. Covers unused tended to go stale, and if he had to use Teddy on the Dominicans at some point to get to Doc he had to be sure he was at the top of his game. They'd smell a fake quicker than Stan could quote an Elvis movie.

The suite was just as he'd left it, and the view out over the water rivaled the one of the city he got from Casa Cooper. When he'd checked in yesterday he told the clerk he might extended past a week, and a hundred dollar bill made sure he'd have the suite until he was done with it. “I'll just flag it tentatively reserved,” the kid said with a smirk. “All you gotta do is confirm with the desk when you know you'll be using it.”

Hanging up his suit jacket, Rico walked to the balcony door and looked out at the water, turned red by the setting sun. Jessie's number sat on the table by the king-sized bed, and he gave it a long, contemplative look. He hadn't really gone out since the whole Mikko incident, aside from one or two little flirtations at clubs that never went anywhere or his one date with Debbie. Part of him knew it wasn't fair, but another part could only think of how lonely he was. Sonny at least had Jenny, crazy as she might be.

But did he want to tie her up in the lie that was Teddy Prentiss? That was where his wires got crossed. He smiled, thinking back on her hair and the way her eyes lit up. She was a damned pretty girl. But she'd left her number for Teddy. It was one thing, picking a girl up in a club as Rico. Just Rico, no last name. But it was something else again to pick one up as someone you're not, even in name. It had always bothered him when he worked undercover, and later he came to understand it was one of the things he'd hated about Valerie. She'd been undercover so much the lies came too easy and she didn't know the difference.

In the end he left the number sitting there. The Hilton had a first-class restaurant and bar. Maybe some debutante or wanna-be actress would be down there sucking down martinis or tequila sunrises and dreaming of an Island man who'd sweep her off her feet. Or maybe he'd just had a good meal and a drink or two before calling it a night. The fate of his son still bounced around in his head, and he wondered if he'd be even decent company right now.

 

Sonny Crockett was smiling when he stepped off the elevator the next morning. Jenny's boat had been gone when he got to the marina, and the spot was still open when he woke with the sunrise. At first he thought he missed her, but then he realized he was glad for a break. Trying to figure out what the hell she was up to gave him a headache. So much of it made no sense.

Mindy looked up and smiled when he came in. “The rest of Gina's notes showed up this morning with Stan, boss. He and Lester are already out working taps. He said it's better when it's still cool and it doesn't stink as bad. He also said these were the last ones she had.”

“Thanks, darlin'. I'll start going through them. Any word from Tubbs yet?”

“No. And I don't expect Dave and Randy until later. No word on how their night went.”

“Thanks. I don't know what we'd do without you.” He grinned again and forged on through the conference room and his daily encounter with what he'd come to think of as the white desktop monster.

It was almost ten before he heard Rico pouring coffee in the conference room. “...and let me tell you it was a night. Who knew those women could drink so damned much?”

“Did you have an encounter with the dreaded South Florida cougar last night?”

Tubbs turned to face him, his eyes bloodshot. “The what?”

“It's a dangerous predator we have down here, Rico. An older woman, usually just divorced, who's out looking to recapture her youth in the pants of some young buck. They can all drink like fish, and take no prisoners.”

Rico laughed, then winced. “One of them might have been. I just remember too many shots of rum. But I stayed true to Teddy Prentiss the whole time. That I remember, mon.”

“Hopefully they were only in town for one night. Otherwise you might have to summon Izzy to drive them off.” He raised his hands. “Don't look at me like that. I'm not holding your hand on this one.”

Mindy cleared her throat from the door. “If you boys are quite done, I've got the chief deputy on the line. He wants Crockett to meet him for lunch at Rudy's Ribs at two.” She smiled. “And no, it's not a question.”

“Tell him I'll be there.” Ribs made Sonny remember Leon and his damned Mercedes and...how many years had it been since he'd really thought about Eddie? How long had it been since he'd even spoke to Maria, his widow? Damn this job. “Make for a nice change.”

“He wants to get the cut of your jib or whatever it is those old guys say.” She smiled. “He's a sharp character, boss, but he likes to hide it behind his little Southern law enforcement act. I'll tell him you'll be there.”

“Guess it's a good thing I got through Gina's notes, then.” He picked them up and handed the stack to Mindy. “Not as many with meaning for us this time, though. Oh, and have you heard from Trudy?”

“She's taking Marty to a follow-up appointment. She said she'd try to make it in.”

“If she calls back tell her it's ok if she stays home with him.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “We'll be needing all hands soon enough. If you want to take some time, go ahead.”

Rico chuckled. “It don't seem fair that we all get to bail and leave Mindy stuck here. Tell you what, I'll give her a hand with those notes and the maps.”

“When you're done both of you call it a day. I'll be back after this lunch, assuming old Pete doesn't rip me to shreds and dunk me in Rudy's sweet honey sauce, and I'll hold the fort until the boys get back in the Roach Coach. Dave and Randy most likely won't even come in if they have everything they need.”

Rudy's Ribs was something of a local landmark, its big white sign decorated with a barbecue-sauce-smeared pig visible from almost a quarter mile away. Sonny parked the Ferrari about a block away and walked over, regretting hauling his white blazer out of the closet for old time's sake. He'd have to remember to ask Tubbs where he took his dry cleaning.

Inside the lunch mob was starting to fade away, replaced by those in less of a hurry or with their own business to conduct. Sonny was about to ask the hostess if he was expected when the voice he'd heard over the phone boomed out. “Come on back, son! Got us a table and beers ready to go!”

Pete Washington stood up and waved, looking for all the world like George Jefferson with a close-cropped afro and wearing a suit that would have made Rico jealous. He didn't stop smiling until Sonny sat down, and only then because he took a deep drink of beer. “Good to finally meet you,” he said, pouring Sonny a beer from the sweating pitcher between them. “Drink up. More where this came from. They got a menu, but it ain't worth your bother. I'll order for us.” He narrowed his eyes and squinted across the table. “If you trust me, that is.”

Sonny laughed, fully caught up in the guise of the man. He was sure Pete Washington was nothing like this when the lights went down and things got serious, but he enjoyed the theater of the man. “I trust you, Pete. I don't drink beer with men I don't trust.”

“Knew you had a solid backbone.” Pete chuckled, waving the waitress over and ordering two number sixes with fries. “The pulled pork's damned good,” he explained, “and I think they stuff the whole damned pig between the buns. You won't need supper after this.” His voice changed as soon as the waitress moved away, confirming what he'd suspected. “I understand from Dave and Randy you were a Marine. Good. I like working with solid men. That Castillo's as solid as they come, and he gave you his full support. Where are we in this thing?”

Sonny outlined their progress in short sentences, knowing Pete would appreciate it. “Right now we're waiting on Nicky,” he concluded with a thin grin. “I'd rather stab myself in the eye with a pencil, but he's the only in we've got.”

“The Dominicans that closed off?”

“Yes, sir. My partner Rico dealt with them a time or two for pot buys, and he always had to go through a middle man of some kind. And even then he didn't get near these two gangs. Strictly small timers.”

“Well, shit. Keep leaning on the little punk, then.” Pete stopped talking when the waitress returned with two heaping plates of meat and fries. “And can we get another pitcher, darlin'? Thank you much.”

“It's been a few years since I've been down here. Forgot how good their food was.”

“Once a week for me.” Pete grinned. “I love me some barbecue. You think pushing Nicky will bring the H connection out in the open?”

“He's the only one moving Red Cross as far as we know. At least in anything more than an ounce or two. This Doc is careful.”

“Doc?”

“All we know about the main dealer is his street name. And that we got from the head of Narcotics over in Metro-Dade. Doc's kind of a myth over there. They've been chasing him for years and have nothing. He's a ghost. But we'll get him.”

“Just keep me in the loop. Anything you need, we can get. And I hear ATF's been bugging you for taps on that arms dealer. Good move keepin' them to yourself. It's their show, but it doesn't hurt for us to have an ear to the wall.”

“Our intel thinks sooner or later at least one of the gangs might reach out to Holmes. He's the only one with the kind of hardware they want. But he doesn't use the phone much, or if he does it's from someplace we don't have tapped.” Sonny smiled around his sandwich. “We didn't work much magic on him. Our main target was Moncado and Maynard.”

“And you nailed 'em both. Big feathers in our caps. But that heroin's got a lot of people nervous. It ain't crack, that new stuff I keep hearing about, but it's bad news just the same. And for someone to keep dealing that long without getting busted...it just sends the wrong message.”

“We'll get him. I can't say it'll be tomorrow, but we'll get him.”

“Good. Now let's finish this grub and drink some more beer. Unless you got someplace better to be?”

“No, sir. That I do not.”

Sonny left Rudy's with a full belly, a light buzz, and a deep respect for Pete Washington. George Jefferson he was not; there was more weight than bluster to the man. And he trusted him. Sonny didn't trust bosses easily or often, but he was ready to number Pete in that small group. He also didn't seem to be the type who disappeared when the going got rough, and all three marshals in the task force appeared to trust him without question. That was enough for Sonny.

It was hot in the afternoon sun, and he was glad he'd risked the white blazer. The heat helped sweat out the beer, and before long he was driving back to task force headquarters. Hopefully Tubbs and Mindy had called it a day, and then all he needed to do was send Stan and Lester home as soon as they came in, if Mindy hadn't done it already.

It was cool and quiet in the office after the heat and bustle of the street and Rudy's Ribs, and Sonny just let it all wash over him. Only then did he realize just how tired he was. It wasn't so much the work he'd been doing, which consisted mostly of glaring at the fax machine and hoping the phone didn't ring, as it was worrying about everyone else. He wondered how Marty had managed it all these years. Always wondering if Rico was going to keep it together, if Stan would stay away from the ponies, if Lester would accidentally shock himself, and now worrying about Trudy. Add in the three deputy marshals and it was damned hard to balance.

He knew he had to let some of it go. He know Rico's strengths and weaknesses almost as well as he knew his own, and he trusted Stan to keep it together. Especially now that he was with Gina and busy training Lester in all things surveillance. Trudy? She'd killed Maynard. Hell, he had to worry more about someone pissing her off. He'd always known Trudy was a strong, capable woman. Never a question in his mind. And the marshals? Having met their boss he knew he'd gotten the best in the office, not duds they wanted to offload. Dave and Randy were as tough as they came. He just had to pull them off the line once in a while because they wouldn't do it themselves. Mindy was still a bit of a puzzle, but she came from South Boston and a father who'd been an abusive cop and then an abusive ex-cop once he was kicked off the force.

He smiled and sat back in Castillo's chair. He still thought of it as Marty's chair. If anyone's the weak link here it's me. Me and my baggage. But I'm not going to screw this chance up. Not happening. The thought felt good, so he hung onto it for a time, looking out the window and willing the fax to stay quiet until he could leave. And then he saw the note taped to it. 'I sent Stan and Lester home, boss. I put this where you'd never see it. Mindy'

“Damn it!” He tore the note into little pieces and tossed them in the trash, laughing the entire time. She had his number, no doubt about it. Still, he wasn't sure he was ready to leave yet. Maybe a bit more time with the map would tell him something. He also didn't want to run into Jenny tonight.

Getting up, he walked into Trudy's office and logged into the computer. They had three terminals all told, and true to form Castillo had refused one. Once the cursor was blinking, Sonny typed in Jenny Walker's name and hit return, doing a basic warrant search. He knew Stan had done one, too, but that was weeks ago and she'd been gone for a couple of extended periods since then. He had to be sure.

Once again her name came up clean. Switching to boats he ran the profile search for Vellamo, but based on builder and length. Sure enough, it came up again with a different name and on a Customs watch list for art smuggling. But this date was more recent. Thinking back, Sonny did the math and guessed it was during one of her extended cruises. There was always a chance it was a sister ship, even though he knew precious few of those had been built. Still, it was a lead, not conclusive evidence. And he had to be sure.

Logging out of the system, Sonny walked out to the map. But he couldn't concentrate on the colored lines, circles, and dots marking their hunting ground. Instead he kept seeing Jenny's sun-bleached hair and firm body in front of his eyes. How she appeared and then disappeared, first with the candles and then those damned cards. It was like making love to some kind of ghost. They knew nothing about each other, at least nothing they'd told each other. And she didn't seem to care. Except when she did.

That was the strange part. He'd be happy to just walk away except there was something off about her. Something that hinted she was looking for more, and was feeling more, than just the casual air she put on. Sonny knew his weakness had always been women in trouble, going as far back as his first junior high girlfriend. Little Tammy Forester who needed help with her homework and then with other things. She'd had her sob story about her step-father, and he'd fallen for it. After that it had been more of the same, him saddling up his white horse and trying to ride to the rescue. Sometimes it worked, like Caitlin, but mostly it failed. Barbara, Caroline, Brenda, Theresa, the list went on. Even Burnett wasn't immune with Celeste. And now Jenny.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger and turned back to the map. There had to be something here. Something that showed him the path to Doc. He just had to find it.

 

“What did the doctor say?”

Martin Castillo turned away from the cooktop, seeing Trudy standing just inside the kitchen. “You were there. You know. But I have to move. If I just sit there I turn to mush. And I don't heal.” Reaching down, he stirred the chopped onions and green beans sauteing in oil.

“It's their job to say that.” She smiled. “But I knew you wouldn't listen.” She started to walk away and then turned back. “How long do you think the CIA will take to come through?”

“Not long. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. They don't like owing people, and this only pays half their debt.”

“Would you really have gone to that man's boss?”

“I don't know. What matters is he thought I would.” Castillo slid the vegetables onto a waiting plate and then added garlic and thin-sliced chicken to the hot pan. “He's a bastard, Trudy. Make no mistake. He's done far worse to people for no reason other than to make them suffer.”

“I know...it's just...” She shivered and looked at him, her bright brown eyes wide.

“You've never seen that side of me.” He reached out and took her hand. “And you may never see it again. But I know their world. I was part of their world for years until Menton showed me the reality of it and I walked away. It's not me, but it's part of me. Like Burnett and Crockett.”

“That's what it reminded me of. Seeing Sonny as...well...not Sonny. That really scared me, Marty. I won't lie. It was hard to trust him again.”

“You don't need to worry about me.”

“I don't. I trust you with everything I am. You know that. It's just...hard to see what they made you become.”

Nodding, he added the vegetables back to the pan and poured sauce over them. “That's one reason I despise them so much. They'll send someone new, or someone who doesn't belong, to deliver the goods. It's how they operate. It will all be face to face so it can be denied.” He moved the pan off the flame to allow the sauce to thicken without burning. “Have Stan lock the tape of than conversation away. And make copies. You should have one, too.”

“Just in case?”

“Just in case.” He reached for the cooked rice and then paused to admire her as she walked over to help him plate up the meal. Her slender body never ceased to amaze him. Her movements were so fluid, so beautiful and understated, he never tired of them. She moved, he realized, like she played piano. Then he remembered the look Jack had given him when he was talking about the squad. He knew! Even then he sensed it. Good thing you're dead, old friend, or I'd have to deck you right now.

“What's that smile for?”

“I was thinking about Jack Gretzky. About how he looked when he mentioned you in the squad. I think he knew even then we were meant for each other.”

“How?”

“Jack was like that. He sensed things. Sometimes he just knew things. It doesn't make sense, until you stop making it try to make sense.”

She nodded. “He always smiled at me. The way he looked, it was like he knew me from somewhere. It really creeped me out at first.”

“We should eat before this gets cold.” He smiled and walked to the low table, settling into his cushion. “And then maybe we could walk to the beach.”

“I'd like that.” She smiled, and he delighted in the way her eyes sparkled. “It's good walking anywhere with you after the last few weeks.”

“It will just keep getting better, người yêu.” He was really starting to like how that phrase rolled off his tongue.

“I hope so.”

There was a hitch in her voice that gave him pause. “Why would you think it wouldn't?”

“Life likes throwing me curves, Marty. My brother getting murdered right when he was starting to turn his life around. My sister.” She lowered her eyes, but not before he could see the tears forming. “And maybe...”

“No.” He was around the table and had her in his arms before she could gasp. “There's no maybe here. Life tried to throw you a curve, and you blew Maynard's head off and saved my life. You changed things, Trudy. And I will never leave. Not unless you want me to. I can think of no one I'd rather be with.”

She nodded, but he could feel her body shake as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I know, Marty. My heart knows. It's my brain that keeps messing with me.”

Reaching down, he put two fingers under her chin and tilted her head back. Then he kissed her, a soft touch of his lips on hers and then her forehead. “Trust your heart. It's what led us here and will keep us here. I know the last weeks have been hard. On everyone. But the worst is behind us.” He smiled, touching her cheek with his fingers.

She laughed, a soft thing just reaching past her lips. “And now the food's cold. It smells so good, too.”

“I can heat it up later. Right now I'd rather be with you.” He smiled, standing and helping her to her feet, ignoring the pain that stabbed through his midsection. “Let's take our walk now. While there's still light. Maybe we can see the waves Jess liked to talk about.”

“You must really miss him.”

“I do. Him, Jack, all the others. My life has been full of death, Trudy, but very little love. That's why I fight for us.” He held her for a time, letting her settle back into herself. And, in truth, drawing some strength from her. He knew how much she wanted the walk, and there was no way he'd disappoint her.