The Line - Conclusion

[Robbie C.]

And this ends our latest foray into the Task Force arc.

 

Just over an hour later Sonny looked around the conference room. They were all there, waiting. He looked over at Castillo, who stood. “I want one thing to be clear. This ends today. No matter what. Menton crossed a line, and he will pay for it. You can still step away. This is my fight with him, not yours.”

Dave snorted. “Like hell. I bought my ticket when I dropped that smuggler and the NVA officer in Laos.”

Randy nodded. “So did I. And Trudy’s my friend. He’ll pay.”

Gina squeezed Stan’s hand. “I’m late to the party, but Trudy was my partner for years. And Marty…I owe you so much. No, I’m in.”

Sonny watched them all nod. “That’s it, then. It’s a go. I talked to Narcotics and they’re going to run a raid on the second location. Turns out they’ve been watching it based on the dead guy’s heroin habit and his visits to the place, so they have a warrant ready to go. I told him it could be a dry hole and he didn’t care. Said it’s the least he could do to repay us for taking down Delgado. He also said they have eyes on the place now and no one matching Menton’s description has been near it. So we don’t need to flush him from there.”

Stan nodded. “Easy. I just pull the dummy traffic for them and let the panic button go through. As soon as that goes, I’ll start my show for the electronics shop.”

“Good man. Our operation will kick off right after John’s people step off, and that’s in fifteen minutes. Usual load, boys and girls. We’ll get close to the store, then peel off and head for the warehouse. If he gets to that boat we’re screwed.”

“He won’t. I had a word with the Coast Guard. They’ll have a bird in the air on our signal. He might outrun us, but he won’t outrun a helicopter.” Castillo smiled.

“Let’s do it. We’ll work out transportation on the way down.” Sonny looked at Rico, who shrugged. He doesn’t think Marty called anyone, either. That means he’s planning to break away as soon as we step off. “Weapons and comms checks, people!”

Sonny found Stan in the armory loading extra magazines for his Browning. “You got that thing working, Stan?”

“Yep. And I know he didn’t call anyone, Sonny. It would have shown up in the tech room.”

“Good man.” Sonny looked around. “I’m sending Gina and Mindy with you and Lester. Don’t tell him about the change. Rico’s gonna drive the rest of us.”

“I got it. And I’ll take good care of ‘em, Sonny.”

“I know you will, Stan. You know, I’m damned proud of you. I don’t know anyone else on the force who could do what you’ve done in the last week. Hell, I know I couldn’t. Not even half of it.”

“Thanks, Sonny.” Stan stood, trying to find words. “I…I was wrong about you, too.”

“Let’s get this done so you can get back to your honeymoon, big guy.” Sonny chuckled and grabbed extra magazines, not trusting himself to talk any more.

Randy caught up with him just outside the armory. “Boss, I…”

“Already taken care of. We’re with Rico.” Sonny looked around. “Is he…”

“Already headed down. Said he drove slower than the rest of you.”

“Ok, people! Marty’s on the move. Mindy and Gina, you’re with Stan and Lester. Dave and Randy, you’re with me and Tubbs. Stan, I want to know every move Marty makes. But we can’t use the normal comms.”

Stan grinned. “I never mentioned this, but there’s a second channel. I’ll switch yours over, but he doesn’t know about it. He’ll kick my ass for this.”

“At least he’ll be alive to kick it. Get it done and then we move. Otherwise the plan remains the same. Send your fake signals as soon as John’s people go in. Make it good. I want Menton running straight to his damned funeral.”

 

It was, Castillo reflected as he guided the Ford through late morning traffic, a good plan. Sonny adjusted on the fly, keeping the same intent but switching options as conditions changed. It felt good to see him grow as a leader, maturing from the headstrong ego-driven cowboy into something more. The edge was still there, but tempered now with cold reasoning and logic. Burnett’s influence.

His sunglasses blocked the glare and his own judgement of himself as he drove. There was the law, and what he was doing flew in the face of it. But Martin Castillo had always had two lines: one for the Job and another for his own moral code. Dale Menton had crossed both of them, and by crossing the second line he’d signed his own death warrant. The rational part of Castillo accepted that he was going against the Job, but he also didn’t care. He’d toed the line every other time Menton had harmed him, and each time the man had walked away laughing. Not this time.

He kept his car radio tuned to the tactical frequency, waiting for the chatter launching John Vallencio’s team into action. He knew Vallencio slightly, and considered him a good cop. He’d do his bit today and then some if there was room. And his people….Sonny’s people now…would do their jobs. And he’d do his duty as he saw it.

He pulled off the road about a quarter of a mile from the warehouse, picking a parking lot outside a derelict gas station, and waited. Not fifteen minutes later the first calls went out, launching the Narcotics warrant team into action. He could imagine the scene: men in black or green flack jackets going through the door, yelling ‘search warrant’ as they crashed through. People running in panic, holding their hands high, and maybe a scattered shot or two, but in minutes the situation would be under control. Not five minutes later a second set of calls went out, equally convincing and packed with effort, but he knew they were fake. Switek had done his job to perfection. If he hadn’t have know, Castillo would have thought a second raid had just gone in.

Now it was his time. Leaving the car, he left his big Magnum in its shoulder holster and started down the low hill toward the warehouse. He’d gone over the reports of the two marshals many times before leaving the office, and he had a solid mental image that matched what he found on the ground. No activity, and the lone guard would be hiding in his hut by the gate to escape the sun. Feeling the scar tissue pull at the wound Maynard had given him back in the Keys, Castillo moved through the lank grass like a ghost. Menton would be here soon.

 

As soon as the radio operator announced he was picking up chatter, Dale Menton bolted through the back door and started his car. He wasn’t sure how things had gone so badly wrong, but he needed to get away and regroup. Castillo would get lazy again. He always did. And then he’d be dead. But for now it was time to head for the hills.

The car’s tires lost traction in the alley gravel before finding purchase and shooting out into the street. He didn’t look around, not wanting to see SWAT vans or anything else reminding him of police. If he saw them, they’d see him and the whole thing would be a waste. His hands were slick with sweat as he fought the wheel, and he willed himself back into control. Once clear of the area he slowed down, sticking to the speed limit so as not to attract attention. He was over three blocks away. Outside of any cordon Metro-Dade might think to put up. It was Sun Tsu or one of those Chinks who’d said you should know your enemy, and Menton had made a thorough study of Metro-Dade and its raid tactics.

Waiting at a light to turn left toward the warehouse, he felt his confidence returning. He’d passed at least two patrol cars and not drawn a second glance. It was too bad about the boys, but he could always hire more men. And they knew the risks. He smiled at one thought. At least he was saving the bonus money he’d promised them if the operation was a success. That would go far toward setting up someplace new. And then he’d make his old contacts and start up like nothing had happened. One of Menton’s talents was his ability to land on his feet no matter what.

He rolled past the fat-ass guard in his air conditioned shack with a wave. If he was sticking around he’d fire the man for being so lazy, but now it just didn’t matter. He patted his suit coat pocket, feeling the notebook with all his bank codes and phone numbers. One thing he’d learned long ago was to keep that kind of information close. You never knew when you’d need it. He could also feel the weight of the Colt snub nose in his other pocket. Not his favorite piece, but it would do in a pinch. Soon enough it wouldn’t matter at all.

He hit the breaks, brining the car to a sliding halt in the gravel lot. He smiled, thinking of the big boat in the shed overhanging the water. No more than five minutes and he’d have the twin V-8s roaring and the salt spray in his face. He didn’t care about the second part. The damned sea was overrated. But the engines meant freedom, and that made any discomfort tolerable. He started to walk when one word brought him up sort. “Menton.”

 

Martin Castillo stepped out of the shadow of the warehouse, watching as Menton froze at the sound of his name. He repeated it, louder this time. “Menton!”

The stocky man turned, and Castillo could see the first inklings of fear on his pudgy face. “Castillo? What the hell are you doing here? Ain’t you supposed to be at a donut shop?”

“You should have known better.” He started circling, feeling the sun warm his back as he moved. Better to get Menton where the glare would disadvantage him.

“Known better than what? Hell, I didn’t break out of jail. Uncle Sam gave me my walking papers.”

“You should have known better than to go after my woman again.”

“Oh, is that what you’re callin’ her?” He could hear the fear in the man’s voice, a thin current under the bluster. “I figured she was just your whore.”

“I didn’t want to bring your mother into this.” A little poke, something to add anger to the fear and make him careless. For all his squatness Castillo didn’t underestimate Menton in a fight. “But you crossed a line. My line. There’s no coming back.”

“Big words. But you let me go after your team got wiped out.”

“That was Gretzky’s doing. I would have stuffed a grenade in your fat mouth and pulled the pin.”

“But you can’t do that now. You’re a cop.”

Castillo smiled. “Do you see a badge, Menton? You crossed MY line. You made this personal. And you will personally pay the price.”

“I’ll see you in hell, Castillo.”

Castillo anticipated the lunge, and sidestepped with the grace of years of martial arts training. Using Menton’s own force he swept his legs out from under him and sent him crashing to the gravel. There was an audible ‘whomp’ as the air left the man’s lungs. Castillo just stood there, out of arm’s reach. “Get up.”

“I’ll take that out of your hide!” Menton snatched up a handful of gravel and whipped it at Castillo’s face, but the other man was ready. Shielding his face with his left hand, he pivoted and snapped a kick at the side of Menton’s head, sending the man sprawling again.

Castillo looked down at Menton’s sweaty form. “Get up!” he hissed, circling. Not letting the other man get a good fix on his position. The kick had opened a cut just above his left eye, and he knew it would be stinging from sweat as well as the pain. Menton snarled, circling with him. Looking for a way to close the distance. He came in low, ducking under another kick and hitting Castillo in the midsection like a football lineman..

Spinning away, Castillo deflected part of the blow. But there was no denying Menton’s strength, and he felt pain stab all along the scar tissue from Maynard’s bullet. He staggered, absorbing a punch to the chest before getting his feet under him and driving Menton back with two quick jabs and another kick.

Menton grinned, blood running down the side of his face. “Good stuff, Marty. I ain’t had a good fight since I got out of prison.”

“I bet they loved you there. You’re about the right height.”

“Fucker!” Menton came at him like an engaged bear; exactly what Castillo hoped to provoke. He dodged the man’s outstretched arms, spinning and catching him in the side with a powerful snap kick. Something gave under his foot, and Menton went down hard clutching at himself.

“That felt like a rib or two. A down payment. Nothing more.” Castillo wanted to move in, to finish it. But he knew Menton was counting on him coming closer. The man was dazed, but he wasn’t hurt enough.

“Stop dancing and just fight!” Menton feinted one way, then ducked and came from the left, his punch catching the scar tissue again and making Castillo wince. “Something there don’t feel good,” Menton hissed, swining again. The shock almost drove Castillo to his knees, but he used the momentum of Menton’s blow to roll away and come back to his feet. “Your gymnastics coach teach you that?”

Castillo didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there in the sun watching Menton through his sunglasses. He balanced on the balls of his feet. Waiting. He was hurt. No question. But he knew Menton was worse. There was blood on his lips now, and his breath rattled. Maybe the rib had done some damage when it broke. One more good kick…

With a roar Menton charged again. This time Castillo was planted and ready. His foot came up, his knee bent in an almost exact ninety degree angle, and then snapped forward with every ounce of his leg strength, catching Menton in the same spot as before. The man screamed, dropping to the ground like he’d been shot. The wheezing was louder know, and at least three ribs were gone.

Castillo walked over, smashing the outstretched fingers of Menton’s left hand with the heel of his shoe. I could do this right now he thought, looking down at the nasty eyes so full of hate. But if I do, am I any better than him? Could I look Trudy in the eye again? Or myself? He lifted his foot, aiming it square at Menton’s throat, and then lowered it again. “You’re not worth it,” he said, turning away. “I hope your boyfriend in prison will take you back, Menton. Because that’s where you’re going.”

 

Menton looked at the world through a red haze. His entire chest felt like it was on fire, and his left hand throbbed. But he also saw Castillo’s broad back and knew the man had made his last mistake. Digging into his coat pocket, he brought out the small Colt and squinted down the barrel.

 

Rico looked at Sonny as he sent the big Caddy hurdling through the noon rush. “What does Stan say?”

“Castillo’s car hasn’t moved for about twenty minutes. He’s at the warehouse.” Sonny grabbed for the dash as Rico cut around another taxi, risking the oncoming lane as long as he could to gain distance and time. “We’re close.”

Rico executed a perfect power slide through the last left turn, bringing the big car to a stop within feet of Castillo’s Ford. Randy jumped out of the back seat and looked down the low hill. “Car just goin’ in there. Could be Menton.”

Sonny pulled his 4506. “Let’s get a move on!”

They moved through the tall grass as fast as they could, eyes flicking left and right just in case Menton had helpers lurking in the shadows. A low retaining wall separated the warehouse grounds from the field, and they reached it just as Castillo smashed Menton’s fingers. Rico looked at Sonny, who shook his head. “We gotta let this play out,” he whispered.

Randy nodded. “The captain will make the right call. We just gotta back his play.” Still, he flicked off the thumb safety of his custom .45. Dave nodded and did the same.

They were too far away to make out the words, but Sonny knew what had been said when Castillo looked down with that stare of his and turned to walk away. Then he saw sun glint off blued metal and the stubby revolver in Menton’s good hand. “No!” The word ripped itself from his throat as Sonny brought up the 4506. In one smooth blur of motion he let the front sight settle on Menton’s chest as the man started to turn. From the corner of his eye he saw Rico doing the same, and he knew what was happening to his right.

When they shot it rolled out like thunder. Six twin booms from the bigger .45s and a pair of higher pops from Rico’s 9mm. The stubby Colt dropped from his lifeless fingers as Dale Menton crashed back on the gravel. The eight bullets hit so close together the coroner later thought the man had been shot with a single cannon ball.

Sonny stood, the echos of the shots ringing in his ears and the shock of what had happened bouncing around in his head. Jenny had been right! If they hadn’t have been here Castillo would be dead. He looked over at Randy and Dave. Dave had already flicked the safety back on his .45 and was looking over at the body like it was something he’d seen on the side of the road. Randy met his gaze and shrugged.

It took Rico to break the silence. “I’ll be damned if I ever ignore anything that girl says again.”

Down in the empty lot, Castillo turned, looking from the body to the four men on the other side of the wall. Then he grabbed at his midsection and winced. “Randy? Do you have that aid bag? I think he might have torn some scar tissue. And you might want to call Metro-Dade out here.”

 

The Assistant U.S. Attorney looked at his notebook. “And Menton was about to shoot Captain Castillo when you four came on the scene?”

“Yes.” Sonny nodded.

“Did you identify yourselves?”

“Given the circumstances we didn’t have time. But we were wearing the tactical vests marked with badges and U.S. Marshals. Menton knew who we were.”

“I have no doubt of that.” The man closed the book with a snap. “It all seems clear to me. I don’t know how this man got released, and we may never know. But I’d say your Task Force handled the situation admirably, Lieutenant Crockett. I will be advising the Service that you are all cleared as far as I’m concerned.” He grinned. “Now get back to work. You have no idea how many people made their bones off that Maynard business.”

 

“And you should have seen Stan’s face when he saw what I got.” Gina giggled and leaned closer to Trudy. “Especially the one I got myself.”

“I’ll bet.” Trudy was sitting up in bed now. With Menton dead and buried they’d moved her back to Mercy General. They even said she’d be going home in a couple of days.

Sonny stood in the doorway grinning. He was sure Stan had enjoyed the presents, although he still shook his head when he thought of what Gina had gotten for herself. How had he missed that? Then he felt Jenny next to him and smiled. None of that mattered now. And he expected Mindy was still blushing after Rico had talked at great length about the wand and feathers.

Castillo sat next to the bed, his ribs still taped up. Menton’s blows had done damage, but he was healing fast. He looked over at Sonny and smiled. “I just want to thank you again.”

“No need. You should be thanking Jenny.”

She blushed. “I just said…”

“You have my thanks, Jenny. And it will be a pleasure to see you at the wedding.”

Gina turned and smiled. “It was my idea. Nothing says you can’t have two maids of honor.”

Sonny smiled, then looked at his watch. “Sorry to cut this short, but we gotta go. We’ve got an appointment.”

Castillo nodded. “We’re all on leave until next week. Enjoy the time.”

They were outside and in the Ferrari before Jenny spoke. “Where are we…”

“You said you wanted to meet them.” Sonny looked straight ahead. He’d been building up to this for the entire week. “Now you can.”

The setting sun dyed the tombstones red as it always did this time of day. He pointed to the stone. “That’s where they are. Take all the time you need. Please.” He watched as she walked up slowly, respectfully, and laid two white roses at the foot of the stone. Then she sat, and he could see her lips moving as she spoke words he couldn’t hear, lost in the distant sound of the waves. Turning slightly he looked out, wondering just what it was Castillo looked for when he watched the water.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she was back at his side. Tears streaked her high cheekbones, but her eyes smiled. “This was really good, Sonny. I have to thank you. She loves you so much. I promised her I’d look after you and love you until the day I die.”

“And I promise you the same thing, Jenny.” He took her in his arms, almost feeling Caitlin’s presence at that moment. “I promise you the same,” he repeated, looking out over the water.

[mjcmmv]

1 hour ago, Robbie C. said:

And this ends our latest foray into the Task Force arc.

 

Just over an hour later Sonny looked around the conference room. They were all there, waiting. He looked over at Castillo, who stood. “I want one thing to be clear. This ends today. No matter what. Menton crossed a line, and he will pay for it. You can still step away. This is my fight with him, not yours.”

Dave snorted. “Like hell. I bought my ticket when I dropped that smuggler and the NVA officer in Laos.”

Randy nodded. “So did I. And Trudy’s my friend. He’ll pay.”

Gina squeezed Stan’s hand. “I’m late to the party, but Trudy was my partner for years. And Marty…I owe you so much. No, I’m in.”

Sonny watched them all nod. “That’s it, then. It’s a go. I talked to Narcotics and they’re going to run a raid on the second location. Turns out they’ve been watching it based on the dead guy’s heroin habit and his visits to the place, so they have a warrant ready to go. I told him it could be a dry hole and he didn’t care. Said it’s the least he could do to repay us for taking down Delgado. He also said they have eyes on the place now and no one matching Menton’s description has been near it. So we don’t need to flush him from there.”

Stan nodded. “Easy. I just pull the dummy traffic for them and let the panic button go through. As soon as that goes, I’ll start my show for the electronics shop.”

“Good man. Our operation will kick off right after John’s people step off, and that’s in fifteen minutes. Usual load, boys and girls. We’ll get close to the store, then peel off and head for the warehouse. If he gets to that boat we’re screwed.”

“He won’t. I had a word with the Coast Guard. They’ll have a bird in the air on our signal. He might outrun us, but he won’t outrun a helicopter.” Castillo smiled.

“Let’s do it. We’ll work out transportation on the way down.” Sonny looked at Rico, who shrugged. He doesn’t think Marty called anyone, either. That means he’s planning to break away as soon as we step off. “Weapons and comms checks, people!”

Sonny found Stan in the armory loading extra magazines for his Browning. “You got that thing working, Stan?”

“Yep. And I know he didn’t call anyone, Sonny. It would have shown up in the tech room.”

“Good man.” Sonny looked around. “I’m sending Gina and Mindy with you and Lester. Don’t tell him about the change. Rico’s gonna drive the rest of us.”

“I got it. And I’ll take good care of ‘em, Sonny.”

“I know you will, Stan. You know, I’m damned proud of you. I don’t know anyone else on the force who could do what you’ve done in the last week. Hell, I know I couldn’t. Not even half of it.”

“Thanks, Sonny.” Stan stood, trying to find words. “I…I was wrong about you, too.”

“Let’s get this done so you can get back to your honeymoon, big guy.” Sonny chuckled and grabbed extra magazines, not trusting himself to talk any more.

Randy caught up with him just outside the armory. “Boss, I…”

“Already taken care of. We’re with Rico.” Sonny looked around. “Is he…”

“Already headed down. Said he drove slower than the rest of you.”

“Ok, people! Marty’s on the move. Mindy and Gina, you’re with Stan and Lester. Dave and Randy, you’re with me and Tubbs. Stan, I want to know every move Marty makes. But we can’t use the normal comms.”

Stan grinned. “I never mentioned this, but there’s a second channel. I’ll switch yours over, but he doesn’t know about it. He’ll kick my ass for this.”

“At least he’ll be alive to kick it. Get it done and then we move. Otherwise the plan remains the same. Send your fake signals as soon as John’s people go in. Make it good. I want Menton running straight to his damned funeral.”

 

It was, Castillo reflected as he guided the Ford through late morning traffic, a good plan. Sonny adjusted on the fly, keeping the same intent but switching options as conditions changed. It felt good to see him grow as a leader, maturing from the headstrong ego-driven cowboy into something more. The edge was still there, but tempered now with cold reasoning and logic. Burnett’s influence.

His sunglasses blocked the glare and his own judgement of himself as he drove. There was the law, and what he was doing flew in the face of it. But Martin Castillo had always had two lines: one for the Job and another for his own moral code. Dale Menton had crossed both of them, and by crossing the second line he’d signed his own death warrant. The rational part of Castillo accepted that he was going against the Job, but he also didn’t care. He’d toed the line every other time Menton had harmed him, and each time the man had walked away laughing. Not this time.

He kept his car radio tuned to the tactical frequency, waiting for the chatter launching John Vallencio’s team into action. He knew Vallencio slightly, and considered him a good cop. He’d do his bit today and then some if there was room. And his people….Sonny’s people now…would do their jobs. And he’d do his duty as he saw it.

He pulled off the road about a quarter of a mile from the warehouse, picking a parking lot outside a derelict gas station, and waited. Not fifteen minutes later the first calls went out, launching the Narcotics warrant team into action. He could imagine the scene: men in black or green flack jackets going through the door, yelling ‘search warrant’ as they crashed through. People running in panic, holding their hands high, and maybe a scattered shot or two, but in minutes the situation would be under control. Not five minutes later a second set of calls went out, equally convincing and packed with effort, but he knew they were fake. Switek had done his job to perfection. If he hadn’t have know, Castillo would have thought a second raid had just gone in.

Now it was his time. Leaving the car, he left his big Magnum in its shoulder holster and started down the low hill toward the warehouse. He’d gone over the reports of the two marshals many times before leaving the office, and he had a solid mental image that matched what he found on the ground. No activity, and the lone guard would be hiding in his hut by the gate to escape the sun. Feeling the scar tissue pull at the wound Maynard had given him back in the Keys, Castillo moved through the lank grass like a ghost. Menton would be here soon.

 

As soon as the radio operator announced he was picking up chatter, Dale Menton bolted through the back door and started his car. He wasn’t sure how things had gone so badly wrong, but he needed to get away and regroup. Castillo would get lazy again. He always did. And then he’d be dead. But for now it was time to head for the hills.

The car’s tires lost traction in the alley gravel before finding purchase and shooting out into the street. He didn’t look around, not wanting to see SWAT vans or anything else reminding him of police. If he saw them, they’d see him and the whole thing would be a waste. His hands were slick with sweat as he fought the wheel, and he willed himself back into control. Once clear of the area he slowed down, sticking to the speed limit so as not to attract attention. He was over three blocks away. Outside of any cordon Metro-Dade might think to put up. It was Sun Tsu or one of those Chinks who’d said you should know your enemy, and Menton had made a thorough study of Metro-Dade and its raid tactics.

Waiting at a light to turn left toward the warehouse, he felt his confidence returning. He’d passed at least two patrol cars and not drawn a second glance. It was too bad about the boys, but he could always hire more men. And they knew the risks. He smiled at one thought. At least he was saving the bonus money he’d promised them if the operation was a success. That would go far toward setting up someplace new. And then he’d make his old contacts and start up like nothing had happened. One of Menton’s talents was his ability to land on his feet no matter what.

He rolled past the fat-ass guard in his air conditioned shack with a wave. If he was sticking around he’d fire the man for being so lazy, but now it just didn’t matter. He patted his suit coat pocket, feeling the notebook with all his bank codes and phone numbers. One thing he’d learned long ago was to keep that kind of information close. You never knew when you’d need it. He could also feel the weight of the Colt snub nose in his other pocket. Not his favorite piece, but it would do in a pinch. Soon enough it wouldn’t matter at all.

He hit the breaks, brining the car to a sliding halt in the gravel lot. He smiled, thinking of the big boat in the shed overhanging the water. No more than five minutes and he’d have the twin V-8s roaring and the salt spray in his face. He didn’t care about the second part. The damned sea was overrated. But the engines meant freedom, and that made any discomfort tolerable. He started to walk when one word brought him up sort. “Menton.”

 

Martin Castillo stepped out of the shadow of the warehouse, watching as Menton froze at the sound of his name. He repeated it, louder this time. “Menton!”

The stocky man turned, and Castillo could see the first inklings of fear on his pudgy face. “Castillo? What the hell are you doing here? Ain’t you supposed to be at a donut shop?”

“You should have known better.” He started circling, feeling the sun warm his back as he moved. Better to get Menton where the glare would disadvantage him.

“Known better than what? Hell, I didn’t break out of jail. Uncle Sam gave me my walking papers.”

“You should have known better than to go after my woman again.”

“Oh, is that what you’re callin’ her?” He could hear the fear in the man’s voice, a thin current under the bluster. “I figured she was just your whore.”

“I didn’t want to bring your mother into this.” A little poke, something to add anger to the fear and make him careless. For all his squatness Castillo didn’t underestimate Menton in a fight. “But you crossed a line. My line. There’s no coming back.”

“Big words. But you let me go after your team got wiped out.”

“That was Gretzky’s doing. I would have stuffed a grenade in your fat mouth and pulled the pin.”

“But you can’t do that now. You’re a cop.”

Castillo smiled. “Do you see a badge, Menton? You crossed MY line. You made this personal. And you will personally pay the price.”

“I’ll see you in hell, Castillo.”

Castillo anticipated the lunge, and sidestepped with the grace of years of martial arts training. Using Menton’s own force he swept his legs out from under him and sent him crashing to the gravel. There was an audible ‘whomp’ as the air left the man’s lungs. Castillo just stood there, out of arm’s reach. “Get up.”

“I’ll take that out of your hide!” Menton snatched up a handful of gravel and whipped it at Castillo’s face, but the other man was ready. Shielding his face with his left hand, he pivoted and snapped a kick at the side of Menton’s head, sending the man sprawling again.

Castillo looked down at Menton’s sweaty form. “Get up!” he hissed, circling. Not letting the other man get a good fix on his position. The kick had opened a cut just above his left eye, and he knew it would be stinging from sweat as well as the pain. Menton snarled, circling with him. Looking for a way to close the distance. He came in low, ducking under another kick and hitting Castillo in the midsection like a football lineman..

Spinning away, Castillo deflected part of the blow. But there was no denying Menton’s strength, and he felt pain stab all along the scar tissue from Maynard’s bullet. He staggered, absorbing a punch to the chest before getting his feet under him and driving Menton back with two quick jabs and another kick.

Menton grinned, blood running down the side of his face. “Good stuff, Marty. I ain’t had a good fight since I got out of prison.”

“I bet they loved you there. You’re about the right height.”

“Fucker!” Menton came at him like an engaged bear; exactly what Castillo hoped to provoke. He dodged the man’s outstretched arms, spinning and catching him in the side with a powerful snap kick. Something gave under his foot, and Menton went down hard clutching at himself.

“That felt like a rib or two. A down payment. Nothing more.” Castillo wanted to move in, to finish it. But he knew Menton was counting on him coming closer. The man was dazed, but he wasn’t hurt enough.

“Stop dancing and just fight!” Menton feinted one way, then ducked and came from the left, his punch catching the scar tissue again and making Castillo wince. “Something there don’t feel good,” Menton hissed, swining again. The shock almost drove Castillo to his knees, but he used the momentum of Menton’s blow to roll away and come back to his feet. “Your gymnastics coach teach you that?”

Castillo didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stood there in the sun watching Menton through his sunglasses. He balanced on the balls of his feet. Waiting. He was hurt. No question. But he knew Menton was worse. There was blood on his lips now, and his breath rattled. Maybe the rib had done some damage when it broke. One more good kick…

With a roar Menton charged again. This time Castillo was planted and ready. His foot came up, his knee bent in an almost exact ninety degree angle, and then snapped forward with every ounce of his leg strength, catching Menton in the same spot as before. The man screamed, dropping to the ground like he’d been shot. The wheezing was louder know, and at least three ribs were gone.

Castillo walked over, smashing the outstretched fingers of Menton’s left hand with the heel of his shoe. I could do this right now he thought, looking down at the nasty eyes so full of hate. But if I do, am I any better than him? Could I look Trudy in the eye again? Or myself? He lifted his foot, aiming it square at Menton’s throat, and then lowered it again. “You’re not worth it,” he said, turning away. “I hope your boyfriend in prison will take you back, Menton. Because that’s where you’re going.”

 

Menton looked at the world through a red haze. His entire chest felt like it was on fire, and his left hand throbbed. But he also saw Castillo’s broad back and knew the man had made his last mistake. Digging into his coat pocket, he brought out the small Colt and squinted down the barrel.

 

Rico looked at Sonny as he sent the big Caddy hurdling through the noon rush. “What does Stan say?”

“Castillo’s car hasn’t moved for about twenty minutes. He’s at the warehouse.” Sonny grabbed for the dash as Rico cut around another taxi, risking the oncoming lane as long as he could to gain distance and time. “We’re close.”

Rico executed a perfect power slide through the last left turn, bringing the big car to a stop within feet of Castillo’s Ford. Randy jumped out of the back seat and looked down the low hill. “Car just goin’ in there. Could be Menton.”

Sonny pulled his 4506. “Let’s get a move on!”

They moved through the tall grass as fast as they could, eyes flicking left and right just in case Menton had helpers lurking in the shadows. A low retaining wall separated the warehouse grounds from the field, and they reached it just as Castillo smashed Menton’s fingers. Rico looked at Sonny, who shook his head. “We gotta let this play out,” he whispered.

Randy nodded. “The captain will make the right call. We just gotta back his play.” Still, he flicked off the thumb safety of his custom .45. Dave nodded and did the same.

They were too far away to make out the words, but Sonny knew what had been said when Castillo looked down with that stare of his and turned to walk away. Then he saw sun glint off blued metal and the stubby revolver in Menton’s good hand. “No!” The word ripped itself from his throat as Sonny brought up the 4506. In one smooth blur of motion he let the front sight settle on Menton’s chest as the man started to turn. From the corner of his eye he saw Rico doing the same, and he knew what was happening to his right.

When they shot it rolled out like thunder. Six twin booms from the bigger .45s and a pair of higher pops from Rico’s 9mm. The stubby Colt dropped from his lifeless fingers as Dale Menton crashed back on the gravel. The eight bullets hit so close together the coroner later thought the man had been shot with a single cannon ball.

Sonny stood, the echos of the shots ringing in his ears and the shock of what had happened bouncing around in his head. Jenny had been right! If they hadn’t have been here Castillo would be dead. He looked over at Randy and Dave. Dave had already flicked the safety back on his .45 and was looking over at the body like it was something he’d seen on the side of the road. Randy met his gaze and shrugged.

It took Rico to break the silence. “I’ll be damned if I ever ignore anything that girl says again.”

Down in the empty lot, Castillo turned, looking from the body to the four men on the other side of the wall. Then he grabbed at his midsection and winced. “Randy? Do you have that aid bag? I think he might have torn some scar tissue. And you might want to call Metro-Dade out here.”

 

The Assistant U.S. Attorney looked at his notebook. “And Menton was about to shoot Captain Castillo when you four came on the scene?”

“Yes.” Sonny nodded.

“Did you identify yourselves?”

“Given the circumstances we didn’t have time. But we were wearing the tactical vests marked with badges and U.S. Marshals. Menton knew who we were.”

“I have no doubt of that.” The man closed the book with a snap. “It all seems clear to me. I don’t know how this man got released, and we may never know. But I’d say your Task Force handled the situation admirably, Lieutenant Crockett. I will be advising the Service that you are all cleared as far as I’m concerned.” He grinned. “Now get back to work. You have no idea how many people made their bones off that Maynard business.”

 

“And you should have seen Stan’s face when he saw what I got.” Gina giggled and leaned closer to Trudy. “Especially the one I got myself.”

“I’ll bet.” Trudy was sitting up in bed now. With Menton dead and buried they’d moved her back to Mercy General. They even said she’d be going home in a couple of days.

Sonny stood in the doorway grinning. He was sure Stan had enjoyed the presents, although he still shook his head when he thought of what Gina had gotten for herself. How had he missed that? Then he felt Jenny next to him and smiled. None of that mattered now. And he expected Mindy was still blushing after Rico had talked at great length about the wand and feathers.

Castillo sat next to the bed, his ribs still taped up. Menton’s blows had done damage, but he was healing fast. He looked over at Sonny and smiled. “I just want to thank you again.”

“No need. You should be thanking Jenny.”

She blushed. “I just said…”

“You have my thanks, Jenny. And it will be a pleasure to see you at the wedding.”

Gina turned and smiled. “It was my idea. Nothing says you can’t have two maids of honor.”

Sonny smiled, then looked at his watch. “Sorry to cut this short, but we gotta go. We’ve got an appointment.”

Castillo nodded. “We’re all on leave until next week. Enjoy the time.”

They were outside and in the Ferrari before Jenny spoke. “Where are we…”

“You said you wanted to meet them.” Sonny looked straight ahead. He’d been building up to this for the entire week. “Now you can.”

The setting sun dyed the tombstones red as it always did this time of day. He pointed to the stone. “That’s where they are. Take all the time you need. Please.” He watched as she walked up slowly, respectfully, and laid two white roses at the foot of the stone. Then she sat, and he could see her lips moving as she spoke words he couldn’t hear, lost in the distant sound of the waves. Turning slightly he looked out, wondering just what it was Castillo looked for when he watched the water.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before she was back at his side. Tears streaked her high cheekbones, but her eyes smiled. “This was really good, Sonny. I have to thank you. She loves you so much. I promised her I’d look after you and love you until the day I die.”

“And I promise you the same thing, Jenny.” He took her in his arms, almost feeling Caitlin’s presence at that moment. “I promise you the same,” he repeated, looking out over the water.

No words... I can't say enough about how much I enjoyed this. Don't want to spoil it for anyone else, so I'll just say jump in and say, have fun!

Edited August 18, 2019 by mjcmmv

[vicegirl85]

Awesome ending!  Great story and selfishly, I hope you keep getting ideas for more stories, Robbie C.!

[mjcmmv]

5 minutes ago, vicegirl85 said:

Awesome ending!  Great story and selfishly, I hope you keep getting ideas for more stories, Robbie C.!

What she said!

[Robbie C.]

Oh, I have tons of ideas. That's part of the problem.

[mjcmmv]

Just now, Robbie C. said:

Oh, I have tons of ideas. That's part of the problem.

That's a problem I want to have!

 

[Robbie C.]

2 hours ago, mjcmmv said:

That's a problem I want to have!

 

No, you don't. Not really. It makes it hard to find one to focus on, and it also makes it hard to step away and work on other things. A flood of ideas is not always a good thing.

But I guess if anyone wants Season 6, you can just point them here. I think we covered it.

Edited August 18, 2019 by Robbie C.

[Matt5]

A great read.

[Robbie C.]

5 hours ago, Matt5 said:

A great read.

Glad you enjoyed it!

[Matt5]

3 minutes ago, Robbie C. said:

Glad you enjoyed it!

Great detail as I always - I did enjoy it with my coffee.