Echoes - Part XVI

[Robbie C.]

Rico looked down at the scotch in his glass, realizing he'd had over half of it and not tasted a thing. He wanted to call Mindy, but another part of his mind said no. Not until this was close to over. Besides, after the mess today he wasn't good company for anyone. Not even himself.

The Hilton's suite wasn't as warm as Casa Cooper, but he had a role to play now. With the Dominicans out of play their only real way to Doc was through Teddy. His own personal import from New York City. The real Teddy Prentiss had been a hard-luck driver for one of the crews he took down in his days with armed robbery. A skinny kid from somewhere in Queens who thought he was a better driver than he was. But Tubbs liked the name for some reason, and he'd brought it with him when he chased Calderone to Miami.

Looking out the balcony door, he watched the sun sink into the ocean. Pouring himself another drink, he thought back on the last few days. Lieutenant Tubbs! Who would have thought? Not his old squadmates in the Bronx. Not the old man. Maybe Rafael. It was a shame he hadn't lived to see it. But that had evened out, too, in the end. Even if he had to thank William Maynard for it.

Flicking on the TV, he caught the last few minutes of the late newscast. “In local news, two street gangs in a Miami neighborhood long known for violence appear to have turned on each other. Previously the groups known as the 8-Ball Kings and Double Treys had been locked in struggle over the narcotics trade with two Columbian gangs. But according to police sources the Dominican gangs seem to have ignited some kind of feud.”

Shaking his head, Rico set down his empty glass and turned off the TV. “Stan's gonna have lots to talk about tomorrow morning,” he muttered, picking through the scraps of his room service dinner without any real enthusiasm. Too much of it reminded him of what he'd seen in the shot-up ATF van.

 

Stan beamed as he opened the office door and let Gina in. “This is it.”

She smiled. “It's nice, Stan.”

“But wait.” He led her through to the conference room, nodding to Lester hard at work on one of the tape machines that had taken a dump. “There's more.”

“I am impressed.” She smiled, her blue eyes dancing. “You really moved up in the world.”

“Yeah, unlike those ATF bozos. I thought the captain was going to shoot their agent in charge. I've never seen him so mad.”

“We gotta get back it soon, Stan. The phones are going crazy. Seems the Kings think Hernan was some kind of plant in their organization and have declared war on the Treys. The Treys think he was trying to cozy up to his relative to get information about Red Cross. And with the Columbians busy shooting at each other...” He whistled. “It's downright ugly out there.” He smiled at Gina. “Thanks for bringing us dinner, Gina.”

“Don't mention it, Lester. I wanted to see Stan today.” She waited until Lester hobbled back into the tech room. “You say Sonny actually said that? He's going to pay for the wedding?”

“And the honeymoon. I told him no, but you know how he is when he gets an idea in that head of his. He said you should check with Angie. Seems she planned his and Caitlin's, and I gotta say that impressed me.”

“It did. But Stan...we can't.”

“He's pretty serious about it, Gina. Said something about starting us off right.” Stan looked at the table. He wasn't sure what he thought of the whole thing, but he also knew there was no way to talk Sonny out of it. And in some ways he didn't want to. He could never afford the kind of wedding Gina deserved, not even on sergeant's pay. This way they'd also start off with no debt.

“I know. It just...” She sighed. “I want to take it, too, Stan. I really do. And maybe we should. We'll keep it reasonable, though. I don't want to take advantage.”

“I don't either. But after that mess today...we need to make our memories while we can, baby. You and me.” In truth he couldn't forget that shot-up ATF van. It reminded him too much of what had happened to the Bug Van. “We'll tell Angie what we'd like and ask her to be reasonable. She cares about Sonny, too. She'll make it work.”

“I need to talk to her about Caitlin's House anyhow. Really talk. I think we can get this off the ground in under a year.”

She went on about the people she'd met through her work, counselors and doctors and lawyers who stood willing and ready to help, but Stan wasn't listening. It wasn't that he didn't care or was bored. He didn't understand a lot of it, but he learned quick and wanted to help. What he enjoyed was watching her be so happy when she talked. Stan hadn't seen much happy growing up. No real want, but not much happy. So seeing her that way now made him feel better than anything.

“You're not listening, are you?”

“Yeah, I mean no. Not really. But I love watching you talk about things that make you happy. It makes me happy just seeing your eyes get so bright.”

She smiled and reached out for him. “You make me happy, Stan. Don't you ever forget that.”

 

Sonny looked at the faces around the table, waiting for a slight nod from Castillo. When it came he started. “Looks like our whole map when up in flames last night, kids. Not only did the Columbians start shooting at each other, which we expected, but the Kings and the Treys started some kind of family feud, which wasn't on our dance card.” He shook his head. “No blame there at all. Comm intel makes it look like Hernan's murder started it, and our in-house experts back that up.”

Mindy nodded. Her eyes were sharp and her voice all business. “We had an idea that Hernan might have some kind of tie to the Treys, but we didn't know it was a blood relation. Stan and Lester have been rolling tape all night, and the Kings think the Treys held their man back from the meeting on purpose and then killed him when he said his real loyalty was to the Kings. Now they're out their guns, their money, and one of the few mid-level leaders they had left.”

Trudy took up the story. “The Treys aren't saying as much on the phones, but it's a lot for them. They think Hernan was trying to use his uncle to uncover information about their Red Cross trade. Seems he'd asked a question or two that was above his pay grade, so Double G had him disposed of. We're not sure how, but gang gossip is Double G did the killing himself.”

“So now they're going after each other over two guys who may or may not have been rats.” Stan raised his eyebrows. “Anyone see the irony? And somehow in the shuffle they both forgot that everything points to Doc having had Hernan killed. Same signature, same everything.”

“Maybe Doc wanted this war.” Castillo's voice was low and sharp. “The body was dumped where it would cause concern. And someone did keep him away from the Holmes meeting.”

“Where he might have been killed anyhow, but without the message.” Rico stared at the map and the clusters of new dots representing shootings overnight. “Looks like it's gone over to a solid turf war. Any idea what the Kings want?”

Mindy shook her head. “I don't think the Kings know what they want. Eddie's pissed, and when he's pissed he wants to kill. He doesn't think must past that.”

Trudy looked at the map. “Doubly G might just decide things run better without the Kings. They're weaker then they've ever been, and many of the old soldiers jumped to the Treys when the Tech 9s started taking chunks out of their turf.”

Rico looked down the table. “What's our role in this, captain?”

“For now nothing. Be aware of what's going on. Know where the battle lines are. Rico, keep on Teddy Prentiss. If Doc's going to move it will be soon. He needs to be able to find you.”

Lester looked at his notes. “Did the lab turn up anything on those bags of Red Cross? I know they were gonna look, and it's easy to forget after that scene in the swamp.”

Trudy nodded. “They found prints. Rico's, of course. A set they tied to Hernan and another set from another Dominican. But there were two sets they had to send out to national databases. No word yet, but the network's been flooded by all the forensic stuff coming from that farm and Holmes' gang. I'll keep pushing.”

“Good question, Lester.” Sonny smiled. “We still might get a break there.”

“What about the rest of us?” Randy looked with meaning at Dave.

“We're gonna need backup. Hell, I'll be backup most of the time. This is Rico's show now, at least until Doc lets us know the tune he's dancing to.”

“Mindy and I have been working those ships.” Trudy sighed. “I think it's a dead end unless we have more time and more people. There's just too damned many of them, and it seems like each one's owned by a different shell company. Most out of Panama, but there's some from Europe and a few from Hong Kong. We might be able to find a pattern in a month, but we don't have that kind of time.”

“I appreciate the effort.” Castillo nodded to the two women. “It was worth a look, and might pay off if we had more time. We don't. Like Lieutenant Crockett said, this is Lieutenant Tubbs' show.” He got to his feet, and Sonny noticed him wince with the effort. “I have a physical therapy appointment. Keep me posted.”

 

“What did you think they'd do?” Leo glared at Carlos, waving his arm to encompass the streets around them. “We figured on everything except the fact that Eddie's a moron. Only a moron would go to war with the Treys.”

“Chill out, Leo.”

“Enough with the hippie crap! I know you don't like being called one, but you're kinda sounding like one.”

Carlos leaned forward. “You need to chill out. And think about what you say. Very carefully. It looks bad now, but Eddie's doing us a favor. He's having Double G take care of business for us. The Kings were too greedy. Too ambitious. They brought that halfwit Tio and his pal Reno in and almost ruined the brand.” He slammed his hand down on the desk, making the lamp jump. “NO ONE cuts my product! Eddie got away with it because he let us believe it was Tio who did it.”

“But it was Tio.”

“You really think so? I don't. Look at it, Leo. All the bad things have sprung from the forehead of Eddie. Tio. Hernan. Cutting Red Cross. Trying to expand and pissing off the Columbians. It all lands on Eddie's doorstep. And this war? Hell...it ain't a war. I've seen a war. This is a little pissing contest, and Double G's gonna win it. He's got the men and he's got the guns.” Carlos leaned back, settling his breathing and trying to focus back within himself. “I might have to help him along a bit is all.”

“What do you want me to do, boss?” Leo's voice was weary.

“I didn't stutter, Leo. I said I. As in me. Not you. Go home. Get some rest. Bang that Mikko chick or whatever you do with her. Spend some of that bonus. You earned it, my friend. This message is on me.”

Once Leo left, Carlos reached for the field telephone. “Juan? Set up a meet with this Prentiss. As soon as you can. Get a read on him. Find out if we can use him or not. Then let me know.” Hanging up, he shifted so his fingers just touched the normal landline. He almost never used it, and a part of him was starting to believe all phones were cursed somehow. But it was the only way.

The dial tone was hollow in his ear as he dialed the number he knew by heart but almost never used. Three rings and it picked up. The voice on the other end was old, almost as old as his, and almost as weary. “Yeah?”

“Double G. It's Doc.”

“How's it hangin', Doc?”

“You know me.”

“Naw, not really. But it's cool. We know the business and that's enough.”

“True. Look, I see you got a bit of a problem. Now I know it's nothin' you can't handle, but I thought I could lend a hand.”

“How's that?” There was a commendable caution in Double G's voice.

“We both know the Kings are done. Only one man don't know that. I can help him understand. I just need to know where he is. Simple. And nothing comes back to you.”

“And what do you want for this lending of a hand?”

Double G was no fool. Carlos liked him for that. “For things to remain as they were. No one gets greedy, everyone does business, and we stay safe and alive. It will take time for the heat to die down, but once it does...”

“Seems fair enough.” Double G's voice didn't quite agree with his words, and Carlos sighed inside. Maybe two people would have to go down, just one before the other.

“I'll call back tomorrow for the location.” He hung up before Double G could stir up more trouble.

Much as he wanted to shoot Eddie now, he needed to go slow. Wait until he found out if Prentiss was going to pay off. Then he could tie up the Eddie loose end, and maybe the Double G one if it came down to it. Prentiss and his offshore connections might be just what he needed. He'd thought about it before, but now it was closer. More real. Maybe he'd send Juan after this Burnett, too. By all accounts he'd either not been at the disaster in the swamp or had managed to get away. Prentiss might need a good transportation man, and it would help his cause if he could bring one to the table. Or reintroduce them if they'd worked together before.

Leaning back, Carlos thought about how his little world was changing. And who was to blame. Earl Holmes and his redneck fantasies had their part to play, but it was small compared to what Eddie had done to ruin things. Holmes was, had been, Carlos corrected himself, a racist ass, but at least he went out in style. Guns blazing and cussing one of the things he hated most. The dumb son of a bitch could have written the whole thing himself.

Eddie...fixing that was going to be a challenge. Getting up, Carlos stretched, feeling his muscles pull at the unaccustomed movement. It had been a few years, though his nighttime wire checks kept his stealth moves intact and if anything improved on them from his Saigon days. He found himself looking forward to it.

 

When Rico got back to the hotel, he changed into a floral shirt, gold chains, and comfortable jeans and headed for the bar. This was daytime Teddy, and he needed to get back in circulation just in case. Castillo and Sonny were right. He was the only chance they had left of luring Doc into the open.

The college kid was behind the bar, and he grinned and waved his big tipper over. “Teddy! My man! The usual?”

“You got it, mon. A good day for the usual, I'm t'inking.”

As rum splashed into the glass, the kid leaned over the bar. “Had a guy in here asking about you. Said he's heard good things.”

“Has he now? And how come I hear no things about this man?”

“It was earlier today. Right after I came on shift. I told him you was usually in after seven.” A twenty appeared and disappeared. “He's a short dude. Dark, but not as dark as you, and has a short fro. Dressed casual, but in one of them suits left over from the '70s.”

“A name come with this mon?”

“He didn't leave one. Just said he'd come back through. Like he'd recognize you, even though he didn't ask what you looked like.”

“You point out this mon if you be here when he comes back.”

“Oh, I will, Teddy. You can bet on that.”

Grinning, Rico moved away from the bar. The best way to control his rum intake was to make sure he wasn't close enough for the kid to refill his glass every time it dipped below the halfway mark. The bar was only a quarter full, mostly people with drinks sitting by the big bay windows or on the dark edges of the bar. Ones who want to be seen and others who want to see. Rico was somewhere between the two, so he flopped at a table just back from the dance floor and nursed his rum. Today was about staying power, not display.

It was getting close to the dinner hour when Rico saw a shorter, dark man with a close-trimmed Afro come in and head for the bar. “Kid wasn't joking,” Rico muttered, taking a sip from his second rum of the day. “That suit did run away from the '70s. At least it's not some day-glo blue.” As he watched, the newcomer exchanged words with the kid and then headed right for his table. “Teddy?”

“Do I know you, mon? I know many peoples, but you don' look like one I know.”

“We've never met, but I think we have a friend in common.” The stranger had dark eyes and a voice that reminded Rico of late-night radio. The kind of thing college kids have on low when they're trying to look cool, get laid, or both. “Jimmy down in Kingston?”

“I know that mon. But you...”

“My name's Juan. I expect you'll want to check my references.” Without waiting for an invitation he pulled out a chair and sat down.

“I do that, mon. An' you best be who you say you is.” Getting up, Rico winked at the bartender on his way out the door.

Back in his room, he placed a quick call to his cop buddy in Jamaica who used the street name Jimmy. “Yeah, I had some dude call me about you, Teddy. Guy sounds like a late-night DJ? I know him as Juan. Showed up here a time or two a few years back dealing in small quantities. Ganja, some blow, and some top-notch heroin.”

“China White?”

“Yeah, that was it. Never much, though. And always in these bags with a red cross on them.”

“Thanks, Jimmy. Next time you're in Miami the night's on me.”

“Hold you to it, Teddy. Great name, by the way.”

Back in the bar, Rico slid into his chair without missing a beat. “Jimmy says he knows you, but I don' know you yet, mon. What business you think we do?”

“A little bit of import and export.” Juan leaned forward, his suit coat draping open to show the butt of a semi-automatic of some kind. “I hear you prefer safe to big. Arranging for goods to find their way from those who have them to those who want them. Never too much. Never enough to attract attention. My boss likes that quality in someone.”

“Greed got too many killed, mon. Wit these eyes I see it. Too many times. So I stand in the middle like you say. Bring the people with boats to the people with goods, an' then the boat to the people who want to buy.”

“And that's what my boss is interested in. He needs someone to make those deals. Moving small lots of goods from Miami to other places with demand.”

“What product we talk, mon? I don' hold wit' no guns. Blow ain't my t'ing no more, neither.”

“Jimmy told me about that.” Juan smiled, and Rico could sense his play. “We're not taking guns or blow. Let the fools move those things. And pot's too common. Too many people flooding the market. What we have's unique.”

“Out wit' it, mon.”

“China White. Top grade.”

“As good as Red Cross?”

Juan's eyes lit up. “Teddy, my man, it IS Red Cross. None other.”

“Am I dreamin', mon?” Rico made a show of pinching his own arm. “And what brings dis gift from heaven to me, Teddy Prentiss?”

“My boss heard good things about you.” Juan leaned forward, signaling a passing waitress for more drinks. “He's looking to make a change in his operation, and you seem like the kind of man he can do business with.”

“Me, mon? I keep t'ings simple. No blow. No big loads. I don' even move t'ings myself, see? Small and clean. That's how Teddy Prentiss does his business. I tried that big stuff, mon, an' got burned good. Never again says I.”

“I know. Jimmy told me. And that's what we like. You know how long Red Cross has been on the street?”

“Ten years. More maybe. I don' get up north here too much.”

“Maybe more is right. But we stay in business because we do it the right way. Small. Simple. Clean. Just like you do.”

Rico accepted the fresh drink with a smiled. He had to admit this Juan was good at his job. “But that don' feature me, mon.”

“Like I said, he's looking to make a change. Move things away from home a bit. You've got the connections, and you think like we do. Small, simple, clean. Red Cross don't grow on trees, and our supply lines are stable. But they don't grow. Our current customers don't understand that. We want to find some that do.”

“Righteous, mon. That I can do. But I'm gonna need a sample. Make sure we got the genuine article.” Rico smiled. “It's not that I don' trust you, but...”

“You gotta be safe. Don't worry. I get it. My boss will, too. In fact, he'll want to meet you before it's said and done.” Juan grinned. “He's kinda old school that way.”

“It's all good, mon. Cool runnin' all de way, I say.” Rico raised his glass. “I'm here the rest of the week. Unless you got a better place to meet?”

“Tell you what. I'll let the boss know you're interested. The sample for testing ain't free, but that's the game.”

“I know, mon. No worries. You bring the party favors, I bring the green.”

“Outstanding. When Jimmy said you were a businessman I knew we could work together. Give me your room number and I'll call when the sample's ready. You pick a place and we'll get this party started.”

“What kind of weight we talkin', mon? I don' run me own boats, so I need to contract out.”

“We'll work that out once you see the sample. Don't worry, though. It won't be more than a Cigarette or two of weight. Like I said, we like to keep things small and safe.”

“Righteous.” Rico kept smiling until Juan got up and headed for the door. As soon as the middleman was out of sight, Rico let the smile slide off his face. The first part was done. Now he just had to wait on the chump with the bad hair to call. After the ATF fiasco, Rico was tired of waiting. Raising a finger, he ordered another drink.

 

The jangling field phone jarred Carlos out of his thoughts. He didn't mind the interruption. “Tell me something, Juan.”

“He's the real deal, boss. Wants a sample, but he's willing to pay. Doesn't want to run big loads, and damned near passed out when I told him it was Red Cross.”

“You're sure?”

“Yeah. If anything he acted like he didn't trust me. Can't say's I blame him, though. I did kinda walk up on him out of nowhere.”

“That's on me. There isn't time for the introductions dance.”

“Yeah.” Juan paused. “I told him you'd probably like to meet him.”

“I would. I want to get my own read on him. If we're gonna work with him as long as I'd like to, we need to be solid. And that means we have to look each other in the eyes like men.”

“Makes sense, boss. I'm gonna call him as soon as I pick up a sample. He'll pick the meeting spot.”

“You think he'll try anything?”

“No trace of it in his background. He's a mean bastard if you corner him, but most of those Jamaicans are. I can't see him trying a rip on that small a stash. It's not good business, and he seems to be all about the business.”

“Cool. The stuff will be in the usual spot. Make it happen, then let me know.”

“How much do you want to move, boss? He'll want to know since he'll have to arrange transportation.”

“No more than ten keys to start with. Packets sealed so it can't be stepped on and still look like Red Cross.”

“You got it.”

Once Carlos hung up, he stared at the other phone. The regular one. The one he didn't trust but did sometimes need. Things were getting out of hand on the streets. He didn't really care how many Kings died, but it drew unwanted police presence and attention. One of them might get lucky and blunder into one of his stashes like they'd blundered into the leader of the Tech 9s. And there was still the matter of that message. He reached for the phone.

 

“They want what?” Sonny turned to Castillo, surprise plain on his face.

“Both of us. The assistant U.S. attorney wants to talk to us both about the Holmes incident. ATF is trying to make some kind of stink. Chief Deputy Washington tried to hold them off, but the AUSA insisted.”

“Don't they know we're in the middle of an operation?”

“That's why it's just you and me. I told them Tubbs is undercover and that I wouldn't risk an ongoing operation for their little show.”

“When?”

“They want to interview us separately. You'll go first, since you might be needed in the field.” Castillo shifted and winced. “I'm not essential. Not yet, at least.”

“Therapy going ok?”

“More or less.” Castillo gave a thin smile. “Trudy's helping me get through it. I've been shot before, but each time it takes a little bit more out of me.”

“So when do I have to report for this dog and pony show?”

“This morning at ten. We'll have time to get a quick update before you leave.”

Shaking his head, Sonny turned and walked out of the office. On the way he almost ran into Rico, who came bopping through the conference room like he owned the world. “Watch where you're going, pal. Some of us have work to do.”

“Where, mon? I be seein' no working mon here.” Rico smiled. “And I made contact last night with some dude named Juan. Seems he's Doc's business scout or something.”

“Well haul your prize butt over there and sit down. I gotta go get probed by the AUSA over that whole Holmes mess.”

Stan and Lester came out of the tech room looking like they'd slept there. And judging from the notes they carried they had. “Been a busy night, girls. Lester and I managed, thank you very much. But things are getting messy down in Kings-land. And I don't mean Graceland, boys and girls.”

Trudy smiled. “Stan's not kidding. Metro-Dade logged at least ten shootings last night, most of them warning drive-bys, but there were two casualties. Both Kings. Neither fatal.”

“Yet.” Stan dropped his notes with a thud. “The Kings keep talkin' trash on the phone, but the noise coming out of the Treys is serious. It's starting to sound like Double G is thinking about taking them out.”

“Or someone put the idea in his head.” Rico leaned forward. “Juan said something about his boss, Doc, wanting to change up his operation. Take the distribution part away from home. Maybe Doc's using the Treys to square up things at home. Maybe what we thought before is what's happening.”

“What's this Juan's next step?”

“I told him I wanted a sample. To make sure it's real Red Cross. He's gonna leave a message the hotel when it's ready, and I get to pick the time and place for the meet. I told him I'd pay for the same, so I'll need some buy money. After that...he hinted the boss would want to meet me. Said he's old school that way.”

“I want you covered at all times. As much as possible. Doc is dangerous. We're seeing how dangerous now.” Castillo looked at Rico. “This isn't negotiable. You will have back-up even if I have to prop myself up in the corner and watch you.”

Dave cleared his throat. “If it's outside you're covered to a thousand yards. A bit less with the M-21, but either way we got your back.”

Rico nodded. “I hear you, captain. I'm not gonna make no lone moves, not after what we've seen.” He looked at Sonny. “How long's this hearing thing gonna tie you up?”
“Me and the captain both. Your little Teddy vacation got you off the hot seat.”

“And they might ask for more people. Dave and Randy, if they give you any problems...”

“We'll let you know, captain. The chief deputy, too.” Randy chuckled. “We've dodged this booger-flicker before.”

Sonny chuckled. “What's he like?”

“If it's Carstairs he's a skinny little punk Lester could kick the snot out of right now, with a bum leg and arm.” Randy chuckled. “They've got a couple more in the office, but he's the one they always send out when these things go down. He's annoying, and persistent as a tick. Don't let him catch hold.”

“I'll try not to. I've had to fight off IAD a few times, so I kinda have the drill down.”

“Pete should be there with you. He's always there when they call us in, and he'll have your back.”

Trudy shook her head. “What's with the ATF? We saved them. If we hadn't have been at that buy, they'd all be dead.”

Castillo looked down. “Saving face. They care about that more than honoring their own dead.”

Dave snorted. “Surprised the Goddamn Feebs haven't popped up shoutin' about how close they were to rolling up the entire operation.”

Sonny looked at his watch and cursed. “Playtime's over. I gotta get moving if I want to get there in time. Wouldn't do to be late the first day. The second one, maybe.”

“Don't forget, our operation takes priority. If Tubbs needs you, they can deal with it. I won't give them a choice.”

The interview room in the Federal building looked like any of the hundred or so interrogation rooms Crockett had been in during his career. White walls, plain metal chairs, a table that had seen better years, and the inevitable tape recorder with microphones pointed like suppressed pistols at the chairs. Pete sat in one of the two chairs on the far side of the table, looking as pissed off as George Jefferson and almost as mean as Castillo. “Have a seat, Sonny. Little bastard's running late. He thinks it throws us off, but it just pisses me off.”

“Thanks, Pete. Any advice?”

“Tell the truth, son. Hell, the ATF's diggin' like a cat trying to buy a cow turd to make this whole thing land on someone else. Thing is, the truth ain't on their side. I already gave Carstairs the message logs showing we tried to coordinate with them.”

Sonny was about to reply when the door opened and Assistant United States Attorney Carstairs came in, toting a huge leather briefcase and a narrow, pinched expression. He had to fight back a laugh. Randy was right; Lester could kick this guy's ass with one arm and one leg! “Sorry I'm late,” he said in a voice that wasn't sorry at all. “Detective Crockett?”

“That's Lieutenant Crockett.” Sonny leaned back, his white blazer falling open and showing his light pink Henley shirt.

“My apologies, lieutenant. I know you're busy, so we'll try to make this quick.”

“Good. We're in the middle of an extensive undercover operation, and the task force is very small in terms of personnel.”

“Yes, I've followed this...task force...with some interest.” There was a tone in Carstairs' voice Sonny didn't like, and he went on edge. “Good results, if a bit messy.”

“You want messy, I'd take a look at how ATF tried to 'handle' Earl Holmes.”

“What was your team doing out there, anyhow?”

“In the course of our ongoing investigation we learned the two Dominican gangs were buying automatic weapons from a new source. We'd arranged through the 8-Ball Kings to meet their supplier. My partner, who's currently undercover, was posing as a buyer from New York and I was to handle the transportation.”

“You expect me to believe you didn't know who the arms dealer was?”

“Yeah. And if you'd done more that jack off in law school you'd know that's how this business works.” Sonny felt his cool slipping, and fought to stay focused. “We were after the source of the guns in the hope it might track back to the source of Red Cross, that heroin from Southeast Asia we've been tasked with shutting down.”

Pete leaned in. “For the record, I approved every aspect of their operation. These Dominicans had to have learned of the arms dealer from someone, and communications intelligence strongly suggested it was Doc, the street name of the heroin supplier.”

“So you said, chief deputy. And you claim to have tired to coordinate with ATF?”

“No, we did try. No claim, unless you're claiming we faked all those message logs and calls with their Miami office.” Sonny smiled. “We do have some of those calls on tape, including the one my captain made when they botched their raid.”

“You call the raid botched.”

“What would you call it, then? Because of that's your idea of success I don't want to be around when you fail.” Sonny leaned forward, his eyes hot. “Holmes supplied LAWs to the Moncado cartel. He was known to have supplied M-60 machine guns to Maynard and his mercenaries. The ATF knew they were going after Holmes. And all they have as a plan is a black van with 'shoot me' spray-painted on the side and a few guys with semi-auto M-16s? We thought it was a standard meet and greet, but we had a sniper team deployed, comms on, and as much back-up as we could muster as close as we could position them. Yeah, botched is the nicest thing I'd call that mess they made.”

“They say in their report that if your team hadn't have been there...”

“They'd be dead. And they wouldn't have been able to turn in a report.” Sonny snorted. “I'd suggest you read the interrogation of Holmes' right hand. A goofball named Benny. He said straight out Holmes was looking forward to doing business with us. But the guy hated law enforcement with a passion. You really think an old-school redneck like that is gonna come out when you say hands up? No, he's gonna want to go out guns blazing, which is exactly what he did.”

Pete put his hand on Sonny's arm. “I can't disagree with a thing the lieutenant has said. ATF both screwed up our operation, which we tried to coordinate with them, and got their people killed by failing to exploit the intelligence on Holmes this task force provided.”

Carstairs squinted from one man to the other. “I think we're done for now. But I expect you to remain available, Lieutenant Crockett. I will have more questions.” He set down his pen. “I can say I hope your captain is more accommodating.”

Sonny chuckled. “I'd like to be here to see that.”

“See what?”

“When Martin Castillo takes you apart.” Without another word Sonny turned and strode out of the stale room and into the fresh air of the hall.

Pete came after him. “He's not a bad guy, really.”

“Really?”

“No, son. He's a grade-A jackass. Wants to build his career, and don't care who he steps on to get there. You don't want to push him too hard, but I think you did about right in there.” He chuckled. “I'll have to be here when he goes up against Castillo, though.”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah. And now I've gotta get back to work.”

“You keep at it, son. Tell 'em all they're doing great work. There's people like him who don't want to see the task force succeed, but if we wrap Doc up nice and neat it'll buy us more time. And more operations.”