Echoes - Part XVIII

[Robbie C.]

Sonny got back just before the pre-mission briefing. “Sorry I'm late,” he said to the waiting table. “Took a bit longer than I thought with Angie and the lawyer, but the first steps are done. Caitlin's House is on its way. Stan, tell Gina to expect a call from Angie tomorrow or the next day if you wouldn't mind.”

Stan nodded. “She's been wondering how that was coming along. I'll be glad to pass the word on.” He grinned. “Maybe then she'll quit chewing on my ear about it.”

Sonny nodded his thanks and turned all business. “Here's what I'm thinking. Rico, you're the guy on stage, so the final call's yours. But I want someone in there to keep an eye on things. Stan, you feel like shining up the blue suede shoes and playing a businessman from Nashville?”

“Boy howdy do I. Even got an Elvis Hawaiian shirt for the occasion.”

“Just don't let me see it.” Sonny chuckled. “We'll put you in place about an hour before the meeting. Just in case Doc has people in the bar. I'd send Mindy again, but she's been seen with Teddy once and it might not look right having her ignore him this time.”

Mindy smiled. “And I was pissed as hell at the two-timing bastard when I left last time. The only way I could work that now is to walk up and slap him. I'll be in one of the tail cars.”

“That's right. Rico, be sure to have your mic on when you hit Good Vibrations.”

Castillo spoke up. “Metro-Dade likes to run operations in that club. Be careful you don't draw the wrong kind of attention. I let Lieutenant Vallencio know we were operating in the area and he's keeping his people clear, but OCB might be in there.”

“And they have a grudge.”

“Teddy be cool, mon.” Rico grinned. “And Juan's a security-conscious cat. I think we'll be ok, but if we have to change locations you'll be the first to know.” He looked significantly at his watch.

“Lester, you good running the Roach Coach solo until Stan cuts loose from the club?”

“Yep. Arm's out of the damned cast now, so as long as I don't have to run after anybody I'm good to go.”

Sonny nodded. “Don't forget the street codes. They're all named after patrol routes, and your fake Metro-Dade unit numbers are on your notebooks. Stay off the radios as much as possible, but if you have to come on, use those. There's some fake 10-codes there, too, for direction changes and handing off Juan when he moves out of view. If we're careful Doc won't notice anything different if he's listening.”

They went over the rest of the plan three times, including where Castillo and Trudy would set up their corners of the box and where Randy and Dave would take up overwatch positions. Randy put it best. “From this building we can sweep almost a mile in any direction, so we can see him coming and going. After that it's on you guys. We can help in a car, but it'll take us a few minutes to displace so we're likely better used as a reaction force if things go south.”

Sonny nodded. “Any questions? No? Comms and weapons checks in thirty and then we roll. Dave and Randy, you guys check comms with Lester and head out now. We want everyone in place before Rico heads in.”

 

Ricardo Tubbs checked himself again in the mirror, making sure the print shirt and gold chains marking Teddy Prentiss on the prowl were all in place. He flashed a couple of smiles and mouthed 'righteous' a time or two before he was satisfied the mask was in place. Then he looked over at Lester and turned on the watch. “Radio waves on, me brother. How you hear me?” Lester's thumbs-up told him what he needed to know, so he shut off the watch to conserve the battery.

There was no way he could take the Walther in, not with Teddy's penchant for unbuttoning his floral shirts and dancing with any lady who happened to be handy, so he checked old reliable, the Chief's Special snug in its ankle holster. He missed the bigger pistol, but told himself again the odds of him needing it tonight were almost nil. And with Stan close by with his Hi-Power there would be some firepower on hand if things went sour, followed closely by a whole legion of .45s and the bigger guns of Castillo and the two snipers.

It was the same thing every time. Check the hair and makeup, redo the clothes, make last minute adjustments. Now he knew what Gina and Trudy felt like before they hit the streets for a night of decoy duty back in the OCB days. At least all he had to worry about was some Irish redhead slapping his ass. The memory brought a smile to his face, and the hope that he'd have a chance to return the favor in a more private setting.

Sonny walked over. “Stan just left. Dave and Randy signaled Lester they're in position, and the others are moving out in sequence. You ready, partner?”

“Yeah, mon. Just gettin' me party favors lined up. It's always a party when Teddy's in town.” Then he paused, dropping the chatter. “Where are you gonna be?”

“Good Vibrations ain't quite Burnett's scene, but it's hard to look inconspicuous parked on the curb in a damned Ferrari.” Sonny flashed his usual grin. “So I'll be down the street a bit in Rumour. I'll have the earpiece in, and I'll move as soon as Lester lets me know the deal's gone down or something's gone south. I can be to Good Vibrations in under two minutes from there.” He shook his head. “Feels funny flying solo.”

“Yeah, it kinda does. But Juan's only expecting Teddy. Hard to work Burnett in without making him jumpy.”

“I know.” Sonny sighed. “Well, I'd better get moving. See you at the afterparty.”

Rico nodded, sinking into his cover and checking his watch. Another ten or fifteen minutes and he could head out. He'd keep the earpiece in as long as he could, just in case Dave and Randy spotted anything unusual from their rooftop hide. He'd come to depend on those two as his long-seeing eyes, and dreaded operations when they weren't available or conditions weren't right for their use. Then it was time. Shutting off the lights, he locked the office door and headed down to the garage.

Good Vibrations was a dive club suddenly grown popular with the 'in' crowd who discovered reggae by way of the Police and bad soda commercials. The place struggled, and failed, to keep up with its newfound popularity, but its rundown condition just seemed to feed the hype. There was even a line at the door, something unheard of no more than six months ago.

The big Rasta with bloodshot eyes peered down at Rico. “This not de back of de line, sport.”

“Be cool, Freddie. It's me, mon. Teddy Prentiss.” Two years ago Rico had brokered a middling pot deal with Freddie and his partner at the time. He just wondered if the big man's baked brain was functioning enough to remember.

The eyes lit up. “Teddy! Yeah, mon! That was some righteous herb you got for we.” He lifted the rope. “Enjoy, mon! And later we talk?”

“Sure, mon.” Rico nodded, knowing the big guy would forget the whole thing inside of two minutes. He was more worried about the buy money locked in the trunk of his rental car in the parking lot. The Caddy was too tied to Cooper, so he'd rented a flashy red Mustang from a lot near the hotel. He doubted Juan would bring the sample inside the club. Security and all that.

Inside the air was thick with pot smoke, mostly cheap, rank product, and reggae blared from the wall-mounted speakers. A stage near the corner threatened to provide live music, and the packed dance floor swayed with couples grinding and moving in mostly weak copies of reggae dance. He noticed with a small smile over half of them were young and white, dipping their pedicured toes into a life they knew nothing about and would be eaten alive by if they tried to live in it. Avoiding the back booths, which looked to be home to the club's resident herb salespeople, he danced his way to the bar and slapped down a twenty. “Rum, mon! An' for me new friends, too!” He smiled at the pretty girl behind the bar who might actually be Jamaican. “And one for you, pretty lady. Teddy always buys for the pretty ladies.”

She smiled, pouring him a drink and a smaller one for herself. “Good to see another mon from home.” She nodded toward the dance floor. “As you can see...”

“But they give up their money so nice!” He grinned, tasting the smooth dark rum on his tongue. Looking down the bar, he saw Stan in his Elvis shirt, doing his best confused tourist impersonation. It always fascinated him when Stan went undercover. The big guy was a natural in many ways, able to blend in just about anywhere and shift in a heartbeat from jokester to muscled menace. A shame his tech skills keep him tied down sometimes, but we'd be dead in the water without him and Lester.

“Good to see you having fun, Teddy.” Juan's voice cut through the Bob Marley blasting through the speakers.

“Yeah, mon. I remember when dis place was mostly empty. Sometimes I miss them days.”

“You and me both.” Juan smiled. Rico turned, noticing he was dressed in a pattern shirt and jeans not unlike at least half of the club's patrons. Cat knows his business. I'd best be on my game. “You want to find a table?”

“Too much business in here, mon.” He nodded toward the back booths. “She's a good place to meet, but not a good place to do business.”

“I couldn't agree more.” Juan looked around. “Shall we take this outside?”

“Righteous. Besides, all this cheap herb smoke done give me a headache. If they're gonna smoke, at least smoke good product.”

Juan chuckled. “I couldn't agree more, my friend.”

The parking lot was dark, partly through design and partly because the owner of Good Vibrations was too cheap to replace burned-out bulbs in the light fixtures. Juan led the way, stopping beside a nondescript Ford sedan Rico guessed had been rented that day in an assumed name with cash. “I'll get the same if you want to get the other half of the deal.”

“Righteous.” Rico hauled the bag out of the Mustang's trunk and turned to see Juan doing the same with his own small gym bag. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the test kit. “No offense, but I gotta be sure.”

“Of course. Safe and secure.” Juan held up a small UV pen. “I do the same with the payment. No offense either.”

“None taken, mon.” Rico looked in the bag. “Righteous! It already in those little Red Cross bags.”

“Yes. My boss is very particular about that. Red Cross is not to be stepped on. Ever. So we distribute it this way.” He looked up from his examination of the money. “He asked me to be clear on that. If you ever step on Red Cross, our arrangement is over.”

“No worries, mon. Teddy don't never step on good product. It's bad for my side of the business, too.” Cutting open one of the bags, hoping Juan didn't notice how careful he was to avoid touching anything else, Rico dumped the white powder into the tube and snapped the base. Shaking it to start the reaction, he watched the color change and laughed. “Righteous, mon! Just righteous! We make good money off this.”

“And you held up your end. Forty grand. All real and mixed numbers. You know your business too, Teddy.” Juan offered his hand. “Let's shake on the start of something good. I'll be in touch once I talk to my boss. Like I said, he'll want to meet you.”

“I'll be there. Just give the word.” Rico zipped up the bag. “But I gotta know. What weight we talkin', mon? I need to hire people.”

“Let's wait until you meet with the boss. I hear you've been away from Miami for a time. Things have changed. He might have a name or two for you.” Juan raised his hand. “Just suggestions, mind. People we've heard good things about. One in particular. All he does is transport. Stays away from sales completely.”

“I'll wait, but I may ask some people on me own, too, mon.” Rico gave his best Island smile. “Cool runnin', Juan. It's been a pleasure.”

“Likewise, Teddy. I'll be in touch.” Juan zipped up his bag and slammed the trunk of his Ford shut. “Now we'd best scatter before people think we're a couple.”

Back in the Mustang Rico slipped in his earpiece and started the engine, being sure to drive back toward the Hilton. Shifting his voice out of Island mode he made a call. “Metro Charlie is 10-26.” It meant he was leaving and Juan was rolling, but to anyone listening it was another patrol car calling in a piss break somewhere.

Lester came on, sounding for all the world like a bored night shift dispatch operator. “Copy Metro Charlie 10-26. Don't forget to shake it.”

Knowing he couldn't be part of the box, Rico sighed and took his time getting back to the hotel. Maybe they'd get lucky and there'd be prints on some of those baggies. But the meticulous nature of Doc still floored him. What better way to avoid what Tio had done than to pre-package the dope? They really needed to shut this guy down before he got ambitious.

 

Sonny sat near the head of the table the next morning, watching Martin Castillo look at the team and then the map. “How did we do?”

“Stan and I were late to the party. I got held up by some bimbo and her boyfriend who thought I was looking at her.” Sonny smiled as he remembered how big the goof's eyes got when he saw the big Smith & Wesson. “Stan delayed in case Juan had people outside, which was a good call. Dave and Randy picked up a guy who looked to be staking out the place. He took off about five minutes after Rico left.”

“I didn't spot a tale.”

“He didn't follow you.” Randy checked his notes. “He did a quick pass and then left the area in the opposite direction.”

Castillo nodded. “Good work keeping the box formed. Those map codes allowed us to hand off cleanly and without much chatter.” He looked at Rico. “Write that up and send it to the chief deputy. It might be something they could use if they're not doing it already. It was your idea, so you should get any credit.” Then he turned to Trudy. “What do we know about that warehouse he went to?”

“Another shell company.” She chuckled. “These guys do love Panama. It's registered as small holding location for cheap imported goods. Wicker furniture from Taiwan. That kind of thing. A great place to unload some China White mixed in with the papasan chairs.” She flipped through the notes. “Mostly sells to and holds goods for some of the smaller stores in the area. Very local.”

Sonny sat, his chin down. There was something just out of reach in his brain, and he tried to draw it out while they talked about the tail and how professional Juan had been with his countermeasures. Then he caught it. “I got it! Shit! It's obvious if you look right at it.”

Castillo turned to face him. “What is?”

“So we think this guy was a cop? What if he was? But a military cop. An MP. In Vietnam. That would explain the China White connection and why he's so good at dodging us. There was a whole world of AWOL GIs in Saigon, but you'd know more about that than I would, Marty. Da Nang just didn't have the same appeal.”

“What does that have to do...”

“It's why we can't get a fix on his communications, Stan. He's using Goddamned field telephones! They're connected to each other by wire, and I'll bet he's got one going to that warehouse and who knows how many others running in Treys territory. That's why he doesn't move, and why we can't listen to him.”

Castillo nodded. “It makes sense. It also explains how he can put the word out so fast to specific people. He's got lines to them.”

“Exactly.”

Stan frowned. “So how does it help us knowing we can't tap his lines?”

“We can, big guy. Provided we can find them.” Sonny turned to Dave and Randy. “Find someplace to overwatch that warehouse.”

Randy nodded. “He'd check the lines at night. Less obvious that way. It would either be Doc or someone he trusts completely. Juan might not lead us to Doc, but the lines will.”

Sonny felt Castillo's eyes on him. “We need to move quickly once we find this Doc. He'll disappear if he feels us closing in.”

Sonny was about to speak when Mindy ran into the room, her eyes bright. “We finally heard back on those prints. You're not going to believe this. We got two hits. One's a guy named Juan Donaldson. Small-time dealer and runner from Detroit who dropped off their radar about fifteen years ago. The other one has an active warrant. From the Army. That puts him right in the marshals' jurisdiction.”

“What do we have?”

Mindy caught her breath and looked down at the sheets of paper. “Says here the prints belong to Carlos Delgado. Detroit native. Drafted in January 1968, assigned to the 9^th MP Company, 9^th Infantry Division, Republic of Vietnam. Reported AWOL in December 1968 and suspected to be at large in Saigon. He's wanted for questioning in a number of drug-related homicides by CID. I put in a request for the whole file. I used your authority, captain.”

“Good.” Castillo looked at Sonny. “Your instincts were right.”

“It was Vallencio who planted the seed. Narcotics was convinced the guy had to be an ex-cop.”

Randy cleared his throat. “Dave and I will get started on the overwatch hide, captain. I want to be in position no later than dusk today. That district empties out like a whorehouse on Sunday morning by about six, so it'll be perfect for us.”

“How will you spot him?” Lester asked the question from his spot down at the end of the table.

“Guys checking lines have a particular look about them. If they're on the ground they'd be looking down most of the time, watching for breaks. If they're up high, like I'm thinking he did here, he's gonna stop at each pole and look up.” Dave gave a smile that held no warmth. “Randy and I got sent after guys in places we weren't supposed to be. So we've seen it a time or two. Once we spot the line we can track it back.”

“You think he'll have people watching the line?”

Sonny spoke up. “No, I don't think so. Doc's network seems small. We've only spotted two guys directly connected with him, and he seems to put bullets in the back of peoples' heads too often to have more guys around. He's likely got some close-in security, but having people watching the lines would leave them open to being spotted. I just can't see this guy doing that.”

“Especially since we don't know how many of these field phones he has.” Stan looked at the map. “It would take too many bodies to watch more than a couple of lines, and if he checks them himself he's not gonna have too many, either. It also means he's probably based somewhere near that warehouse. It's a pain in the ass to run lines too far, and the longer they get the more likely a break is or that some pesky Ma Bell pole monkey might find them.”

 

Carlos smiled. “So the meeting went well?”

Juan's voice echoed in his ear. “It did. His money checked out, he was security-conscious, and didn't flinch when he saw the Red Cross pre-packaged. Even said it was better for his business. He did want to know about load sizes, though. So he could arrange transport.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That you had a recommendation or two, since he's been out of Miami for so long.”

“Good. I'd like to meet with him in the next couple of days. We'll need a location, though. Someplace quiet and not too far from the warehouse.”

“I'll get on it, boss.”

Carlos smiled, ignoring the look on Leo's face when his right hand came into the room. “Keep me posted.” Then he hung up the field phone. There's a hiss on that line. Gotta remember to walk it tonight and make sure it's still solid. “It's about Eddie, isn't it?”

“You know it is. Boss, why did you take that kinda risk?”

“To show myself I still got it. And to remind the Dominicans I'm still in the game. Eddie was a liability. Now he's not.”

“Double G's not exactly thrilled, but he's glad to see the Kings gone. And they are, more or less. Some of them joined up with the Treys, and he figures the rest will come around once they see him push what's left of the Columbians out of their turf.” Leo looked around. “What's the real reason you whacked Eddie?”

“He was a loose end. Double G is content with how things were, and if he's not he'll become a loose end.” Carlos looked at the shadows thrown by the rotating ceiling fan. “And once we divert product to this Prentiss we won't have to worry about local events hurting our business.”

“You think Double G will like losing his slice?”

“He won't be losing his slice. But he won't get a bigger one. He can keep what he has as thanks for what he's done, but the piece that was Eddie's is going to Prentiss. Maybe more, if the trade grows. If we're not dealing locally we don't have to keep near as much product on hand. It makes Juan's job easier. Yours, too.”

“And you checked this new cat out?”

“Juan and I both did. He's clean. His Jamaican ties are solid, and no one in Miami has a bad word about him.” Carlos leaned forward, his eyes focused on Leo's. “Are you questioning my judgement, Leo?”

“No, boss. Nothing like that. It's just...so many changes so fast. After all those years it's hard to get your head around.”

“I know. But it will settle down soon.” And maybe I'll need a new right hand. I can see you doubt my judgement, Leo. No matter what your mouth says. Carlos lit a regular Camel and smiled. “Let Double G know deliveries will start again soon. I'm sure that will make him happy.”

Once Leo left, Carlos turned his focus back to the shadows on the desk. It helped settle his mind. Things were moving well now. Another week or two and it would be just like it was before.

 

Dave Blair could feel sweat dripping down the hollow of his spine, and was glad the sun was finally going down. It made for longer shadows and harder spotting work, but it would also make the roof many degrees cooler.

He could feel Randy Mather shift next to him, making a slight adjustment to either see something or keep a limb from falling asleep. So much of sniping was waiting and watching. Over the years both men had adjusted to the routine, but it was still the little things that made all the difference.

“Almost dusk.” Randy's voice was so low the pigeons on the edge of the roof didn't even bat a feather. “You think he'll wait for full dark?”

“No reason not to. He's got time, and he's a careful son of a bitch. Only thing I wonder about is how he'll chase the line. Coming out or going in?”

“My money's on going in. Less exposure”

Dave nodded, watching through his binoculars as Juan locked the warehouse side door and headed for his car. “You figure he raids the wardrobe closet from Saturday Night Fever for those suits?”

“He might at that. Wonder what the hell he dresses like that for?”

“Cheap businessman. That's his front.”

It went quiet for a time as they settled into the routine of watching. Scanning one sector, then another, then back to the first one. Keeping their eyes and minds fresh and open to any new movement. Dave looked down at his range card, comparing the sketch to what he saw and occasionally making a small adjustment. “Looks like there might be one watchman inside. I keep seeing something moving by that side window.”

“Same here. Wonder if he sleeps there?”

“Assume so. Better that way if we have to hit the place. I hope not, though. It's a damned barn. And with all that crap stacked inside...”

“Looks like we got a bus stop close by, too.” Randy made a note. “That's the third stop I've seen so far.”

“Good to know.” Dave shifted to focus in on the big, dingy bus. “Looks like it's popular with the homeless. Got a couple by the stop and one getting on.”

“Bystanders to wrangle. Great.”

The handful of functioning streetlights started flickering on as night fell and shadows claimed every sidewalk and street. Taking a drink of plastic-tasting water from his canteen, Dave switched to his more powerful night glasses and swept the area again. “Another bus. Must be close to the last run out here.”

“Yeah. Any movement? I'm tracking the watchman.”

“No one at the stop, but one guy got off. Sad looking bastard in an old fatigue jacket cut into a vest.” Dave played his binoculars through his sector and then came back. “Guy's looking at the place. Now he's shuffling off. Hang on. Check him out. I need a second set of eyes. He look normal?”

Dave could sense the motion as Randy shifted. “Typical bum with vet cast-offs. Shuffles like...hang on. You're right. He keeps looking up. Those dudes always look down.”

“Yeah. He does from time to time, but he's looking up way too much. And at the wire poles. Get the camera out. I think we got our guy.”

 

“That's him.” Castillo's voice was firm as he stared at the image projected on the conference room's free wall. “No question.”

Sonny nodded. “I agree. Look how he's moving. He's checking those poles, and keeping an eye out for ground surveillance at the same time. He didn't figure anyone would be up high.”

“Saigon's a low city. Not many tall buildings. He wouldn't have experienced that so he wouldn't look for it.” Castillo turned to Mindy. “Any luck with that file?”

“Just came in, captain. They need to spend some of that Defense budget on a better fax machine, but it's readable.”

Sonny reached out, almost afraid to touch the paper. Any time he read about another vet going bad it send ice cubes to the bottom of his stomach. And this guy looked to have been bad from the get. “Says here he likes booby traps. Suspected of killing at least two rival dealers with rigged grenades in Saigon. And some of those back of the head shots. The picture's old and not great, but it looks like the guy you two spotted last night.”

“It's him.” There was a certainty to Dave's voice that allowed no debate. “I got a good look at his face when he got off the bus.”

“Where did he go?”

“We tracked him for a fair distance, captain.” Randy got up and pointed to the map. “We lost him in here, where you get all these two and three story buildings. Shops, a couple of restaurants. An illegal club or two, but all small.”

Stan piped in. “Get us that phone company van again, captain. Lester and I can pick up the wire and see where it goes. Those trucks roam through even that neighborhood from time to time.”

Castillo nodded. “You'll have it inside the hour. But be careful. This man is dangerous and smart. And he knows our moves.”

“Not if we don't get out of the truck. Lester can track the wire using a spotting scope. All I gotta do is pick it up from the street and we can go from there. Just another couplea Ma Bell guys trying to stay out of the heat.”

Sonny looked at the map. Thinking. “Be careful, and try not to run quite parallel with his wires. From what Dave and Randy said he was moving in a straight line, so you could pick it up, hit a different street, and come back and pick it up a block or so down. If you lose it, that means it ended somewhere behind you. Don't circle back to find it. Just mark where it disappears. Trudy and Mindy can work their intel magic and let us know who owns what in that zone and we'll narrow it down from there.”

Castillo nodded. “I spoke with the chief deputy this morning. Since Carlos is a Federal fugitive, we'll have their high-risk apprehension unit at our disposal for the raid. He's got a warrant just waiting for a location.”

Dave whistled. “Those are some serious dudes. You'll like them, Sonny.”

“Rico, you'd better head back to the hotel in case Juan calls. I hope he doesn't, but knowing our luck he will. If he does, stall him until Stan and Lester get back. I'd rather try to grab Doc at home instead of a meet happening God knows where.”

Four hours later they had their answer. Stan stood by the map, sweat dripping from his hair. “Damned air conditioner didn't work. And we had to have the windows rolled up. I think Lester's down with heat stroke.” He picked up a green pencil and started drawing a line. “We picked up a secondary cable here, about a block away from the warehouse. That's where we started trolling to avoid being noticed.” He kept drawing. “We did some of those street change-ups, but picked up the cable again each time. He's good. Got it running right next to the normal lines and almost inside them when you hit the poles. No, we didn't climb one. That scope's got such a good zoom Lester could see threads on the connectors. They'd only spot it if they were making serious repairs, and from the looks of things no one's been doing that for years. He might have a secondary line somewhere, too, in case that one got spotted.”

“How far did it go?” Castillo sat in his usual chair, eyes fixed on the map.

“We lost it here.” Stan circled a block. “It went in on one side and didn't come out on the other.”

Mindy flipped through her notes. “Not much going on there. Some apartments. A bodega. A dry cleaner who's somehow stayed in business. A pawn shop. And a restaurant.”

Sonny felt that familiar tapping on his spine. “What kind of restaurant?”

“It says here Vietnamese.”

“That's where he is.” Sonny looked down the table at Castillo. “Check the ownership on that place. If he went AWOL in Saigon, I'll bet it feels like home to him.”

Trudy was already turning pages. “The building's owned by...the same shell company that owns the warehouse. I think we've got a winner.”

Sonny turned to Mindy. “Get that address to the chief deputy and let him know we'll need that team. I'd like to go tonight if we can. Tomorrow at the latest. The sooner we get him, the better. Rico, still camp at the hotel until five or so. Let 'em know you have a hot date or something and make tracks back here. I'm betting this guy doesn't go out at night.”

Randy cleared his throat. “If we hit him tomorrow, Dave and I can do some recon tonight and see what the area looks like.”

“Be careful. Set up as far away as you can.” Castillo looked at Sonny. “I'd rather we go tomorrow. If he's being watched, we'll know if he tries to run. Everyone stay on alert.”

“You're right. We need a solid plan for this guy. Especially given his history of booby traps. I'd still like the warrant team here when we make the plan, though.”

“Count on it.” Castillo looked at the map. “We've almost got him. This is no time to get sloppy. Rico, I'd still use that date excuse and avoid the hotel tonight. If he's watching, we want to get him used to you going out.”

“Solid. I'll take a roundabout route and hang at Casa Cooper.”

“Randy, you and Dave try to get some sleep. I know you already know where're you're gonna set up, but the next two days are going to be busy.” Sonny looked around the table. “That goes for everyone. Take it easy once the required stuff is done. Get some rest. I think we're gonna need it.”

Jenny was waiting for him on the deck of Vellamo, wearing her t-shirt and cut-offs. “She's almost done,” she announced when he got close enough to hear. “I just need to let it air out a bit belowdecks and she'll be good as new.”

“Nice.” He smiled, his mind going to dangerous places. “You'll have to give me a tour.”

“I will once it's done.” She smiled and came down the gangplank. “But not quite yet. Still a few things I want to do.”

They walked down the dock to his boat. The county's boat he reminded himself. I need to do something about that now, I think. I wonder how Marty managed to buy that Challenger? I need to ask him. He went through the ritual of feeding and cleaning up after Elvis as she ducked below. When he got there the shirt and shorts were in a neat pile on the table. “I missed you today.”

“I see that.” Her hair flowed loose over her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled. It was hard to keep his eyes off her body, even though he was familiar with every inch and curve. “Did you like meeting Rico?”

“He's nice. You have a good friend.” She did a slow turn. “Tired of me already?”

“Never, darlin'.” He shrugged off his blazer and shoulder rig and then she was in his arms.

Later he looked down at her on the bed in the aft stateroom. “I may be gone a good part of tomorrow night. Work.”

She smiled up at him, her hair fanned across the pillows like white gold. “Be careful.”

“I always am.”

“No. Not always. But it comes with the work. I understand. I wasn't always careful, either. But it's easier to run risks when you're alone. We're not alone any more.”

“You're right. We're not.” He touched her cheek, smiling when she turned and kissed his fingers. “I'll be as careful as I can. Sometimes that's hard when you're in charge and people depend on you. When your friends depend on you.”

“I never had that. Friends depending on me, I mean. But I understand after meeting Rico. I hope he finds someone to make him happy. There's sadness in him. Like there was in you when we met.”

“Yeah.” Sonny lowered himself beside her, feeling her warmth. “He's had some bad luck with women.”

“As bad as yours?”

“Yeah. Worse in some ways, I guess. Or at least different.” He looked over at her. “So you're saying I'm still having bad luck?”

“No. We aren't having bad luck. Either of us.” She sighed. “Ever again.”

 

It felt good to be back in Casa Cooper with Stan Getz playing on the stereo and a single scotch over ice in his hand. Rico looked out the patio door at the sky, wondering what tomorrow would bring and where they'd go after they wrapped up Carlos Delgado. Or Doc. He still wanted to think of him as Doc, even though they had a face and a name to hang on their ghost.

Part of him wanted to call Mindy. The feeling of her slap still lingered, and he wanted to see if she was keen on having the favor returned. But it was more than physical. He was that honest with himself. Most days, at least. They had the same interests, she was smart as hell, and after seeing Sonny with his little blonde mermaid he knew exactly what was missing from his life.

Angelina was gone, and now he knew what had happened to Ricardo, Jr. Valerie was just a ghost to haunt his dreams. Even if she called he knew he wouldn't go back. Couldn't go back. Any trust that had been there was long gone. Dead and buried by her own actions. No, he wouldn't take her back again, or go looking to patch something up that had never been worth saving in the first place. At least now he knew where things stood. What was closed off and what might remain open.

He had to admit he was jealous of both Sonny and Marty and their ladies. It wasn't a bad kind of jealousy. More like envy. But they both deserved what they had. Taking a sip of his scotch, Rico nodded in agreement with his own thoughts. They'd both been through hell, and deserved the peace they seemed to be finding.

Then his mind took another turn. How the hell did Doc end up being another blast from the past of Vietnam? Even Holmes had gotten his start there. It made Tubbs wonder how Doc had gotten back to the States, and how he'd made his heroin connection last from Southeast Asia. If the guy had been a deserter in Saigon, it would have taken some help for him to make it back without being noticed. And for the China White to keep flowing as long as it had...

Setting down his glass, he reached for the phone. “Mindy? Yeah, it's Rico. Sorry to bother you, but is there any way you can dig through that Army file and see if CID had any leads into Doc's connection? Where did he get the heroin and all that?”

“Sure, Rico.” She sounded tired, and he immediately felt guilty.

“Did I wake you? I'm sorry. I lose track of time when I start listening to The Sound and thinking.”

“It's ok. I'll have a look and let you know.”

Maybe she has company. God, I'm an ass. “Ok. Thanks. Sorry again for bothering you.”

“No, Rico. Don't hang up. You...you didn't bother me at all. I was just thinking about the case and things and...I'm sorry I slapped your ass the other night.”

He laughed. “Don't be. It was perfect for the part. I was just wondering when I'd get to return the favor.”

Now she laughed, and he found the sound almost musical. “Maybe sooner than you think. I'll check that file and let you know if there's anything there. We actually got a physical copy delivered before I left this afternoon. They must want this guy bad.”

“Thanks.” Rico stared at the buzzing receiver, replaying the conversation in his mind. Maybe sooner than you think? What the hell was that about? He hung up, a smile playing across his face. Maybe, just maybe, his luck was about to change.

[mjcmmv]

Interesting about the military method of communication outwitting the police's attempts to gather intel with wire tapping.

 So much intricate planning in this plot. Really impressive!