With Friends Like These....Part XIII

[Robbie C.]

It was almost midnight when Martin Castillo stepped out of the shadows surrounding the crumbling boathouse. “Isn’t this a bit cliche, Derek? Even for you?”

The man he was meeting gave a short snort that might have passed for a laugh and stepped out of his rented Chevy. His tan London Fog trench coat shone with newness in the wan light from a single fixture mounted to the side of the boat house. “Yeah, I suppose. But with the Cold War ending and all we gotta take what we can get. You look good, Marty.”

“So do you, since we’re lying to each other.” Castillo smiled. Derek looked like hell, his thin face worn and battered by years spent fighting the shadow war with the Soviets and God knew how many other enemies foreign and domestic. He’d first met Derek in Saigon when he was with Project Phoenix and Derek was an advisor on loan to the South Vietnamese National Police. Their paths kept crossing over the years, and they’d helped each other now and again. “You still working South America?”

“When they let me. Hell, they’ve tried to put me out to pasture so many damned times I feel like a dried-up milch cow. But they always come back. Must be my winning personality.”

“Or you know where all the bodies are buried.” Castillo moved out of the cone of light from the overhead, seeing Derek do the same. Old habits and all that. No point in making it easy for anyone.

“You and me both, Marty. I heard about Jack, by the way. A few years too late, but you have my sympathy. He was a great agent.”

“Yes. And a good friend.”

“And we don’t have many of those, do we?” Derek chuckled. “So how can I help? I owe you at least one favor if I remember correctly. Probably more like ten, but who counts these days?”

“I’ve got a case with ties to Bolivia.”

“Man, South America is so yesterday’s news. You should be poking around Africa with the rest of the cool kids. Lucky for you I’m not cool, either.” Derek grinned. “Let me guess. This is about old Herr Hoffmann and his good pal Herr Jankow.”

“You know them?”

“Not socially. They’re two crazy old Nazis who live in one of those mountain compounds scattered around South America. You know, the ones where they only speak German and shoot any natives who get too close? Yeah, one of those.”

“What made you think of them?”

“I’ve been warning Langley about them for years now. Three to be precise. But no one listens. Like I said, it’s all Africa now. ‘We are the World’ and all that. This new guy in the White House has a stiffy for the whole continent, and money follows presidential stiffies.”

“DEA doesn’t have much on them.”

“They wouldn’t. This is above their pay grade.” Derek took a step closer, and Castillo could see the light in his eyes. “I’ve been watching those two goose-stepping psychos for almost ten years, but didn’t start putting it together until they sent their kids into the Caribbean. Playing smugglers or some shit. But it’s bigger than that. Those two have ties in the Bolivian army. Not the regular army, mind. The special operations sections. At least two of the commanders of the ranger regiments are frequent guests at the old homestead. So’s the colonel in charge of the airborne infantry regiment. They pick their friends well.”

“How’s that?”

“All hard-line types with strong Spanish bloodlines. No Indians in ‘em at all. I’ve watched stuff move in and out of that compound, seen them change from coffee to coco, and all kinds of other shit. Those old boys are planning a coup, Marty. I’d bet my secret squirrel decoder ring on it. And you know I love that damned thing.”

“Is that what you took to Langley?”

“Hell, no. I had a full file. Imagery. Reports of conversations between the colonels and the Nazis. You name it. And they just nodded and shredded it all. ‘Crazy old men’ they said. ‘Nothing to it’ they said. But you know the trouble with crazy old men? They dream with their eyes open.”

“Well, we might be able to break this one for you, Derek.”

“Man I hope so. Just watch those kids. Especially the girl. The way I heard it she trained with one of those ranger regiments before she turned into a bikini pirate. The son? He’d rather be buggering his way across the seven seas. But he’s loyal to daddy and does what he’s told.”

Castillo nodded. It made sense, including the reasons Langley would ignore the reports. It also explained why his other contact and Tubbs’ DEA friend had nothing on it. And he trusted Derek. The man lived and breathed field work and tradecraft. If he said there was something there, that was all Castillo needed. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll just watch the papers. But tell your people to be careful. These two might be virgins when it comes to drug smuggling, but they’ve done their share of wet work in the mountains of Bolivia. Especially that girl. Monaele. She’s a nasty piece of work. Don’t let the looks fool you.”

“I never do. Take care of yourself, Derek.” Castillo waited until the rental car disappeared around a bend in the road before turning and heading back to his own vehicle. With any luck he’d get back in time to hear Trudy play some more. He needed the jazz to sort through the thoughts in his head.

 

Sonny looked from Castillo to Rico and back again. “So do you believe this guy?”

“Yes. He’s unconventional, but he’s got a sharp mind. And he knows South America like the back of his hand. If he says there’s a coup in the making, I believe him.”

“But they don’t have a chance.”

“Maybe not. But as Derek says, desperate old men dream with their eyes open. Their coup might fail, but it would be a bloodbath either way.”

Rico nodded. “Yeah. Worse than the drug wars, and that takes some doing.”

“And we’d sit on our hands.” Sonny shook his head, seeing the evacuation of Saigon all over again in his mind. The fear on the faces of the Vietnamese they got out. And the hot rage on those they didn’t. “Been through one of those already, and I don’t care to see another one.”

“We won’t.” Castillo’s voice had the cold firmness to it showing he’d made up his mind. “We’re going to stop those two. It’s clear the old men trust no one else to do the fundraising for their cause. We shut them down, the plan likely sinks from its own delusions.”

Rico nodded. “And we’re on for tonight. That chump came back on the radio almost before I clicked off the mic. They want this deal. No question.”

Before Sonny could reply, there was a knock on the door and Mindy came in. Her face was paler than usual, and the papers she held in her hands shook. “I got the report on Jankow’s father.”

Rico took the papers and smiled, but Sonny saw it had no effect. Rico scanned the first sheet, turned to the second, and squeezed Mindy’s hand hard. “It’s ok, lady.” Then he set the papers on the desk.

Castillo read quickly, summarizing as he scanned. “Her father was SS. Part of the SD as well.” He looked up at Sonny. “Their supposed intelligence service. In 1942 he let one of the killing squads in the Ukraine. His unit killed over fifteen thousand people in just over a year. Russian POWs, women, children, Jews, gypsies, anyone who got in their way. Then he got greedy. The SS arrested him for theft of all things when he was second in command at one of the smaller concentration camps in Poland. When everything fell apart in 1945 he slipped out through the Vatican City and headed for Argentina. His family had commercial interests there before the war. There and Bolivia.”

“We might not be able to get him, but we sure as hell can get his daughter.” Sonny felt the rage rolling in him, and used Burnett’s cold calm to lock it down. “Look, we can’t show that we know anything about her. Or him. They’ll smell it, and if they do they’re gone. If it helps, think of them as any other drug dealer.”

Castillo nodded. “I know you’re angry. Use that anger. Master it, don’t let it master you. Crockett’s right. We have one shot at these two. And Derek warned especially about the girl. I’m counting on you and the rest of the team to bring them in or take them down.”

Sonny nodded. “Thanks, Mindy. I’m guessing Trudy already saw this.” He smiled when she nodded. “It’s ok. We’ll talk about it during the overview, which should be in about ten minutes. Spread the word.” Once she left he turned to Castillo. “They’ll handle it, Marty. It’s a matter of staying focused on the mission. That and those Columbians are still out there somewhere. We can’t afford to get pissed and get sloppy.”

“Let me talk to them and then we’ll walk through the plan.”

Out in the conference room Sonny turned to Rico. “She gonna be ok, partner?”

“Yeah. I think her grandfather was in one of the units that liberated Dachau. He used to show them pictures.”

“Just when you thought you’d seen it all in this job…” Sonny let his voice trail off as the others took their seats and Castillo came out of his office.

“By now you all know who we’re up against,” he said as he sat down. “But we have to stay focused on our objective: shutting down Hoffmann and Jankow. Who their parents are, and what they did, doesn’t factor into that. I learned last night that Jankow is a bigger threat than we thought. She’s trained with Bolivian ranger units and has likely killed before. She’s a skilled, vicious adversary. If she even thinks we aren’t who we say we are, she’ll disappear. And we cannot allow that. Someone that dangerous cannot be allowed to start over somewhere else.”

Sonny nodded, taking Castillo’s slight nod as his cue. “And those Columbians are out there somewhere, too. They aren’t as well-trained, but they’re vicious little bastards in their own right and we know how the game’s changed. At least now the FBI’s actually doing their jobs and chasing real criminals, so we don’t have to worry about them blundering into the line of fire. And nothing we know now changes the plan.”

Stan nodded. “Lester and Mindy will be wired for sound and have earpieces as well. Lester will signal when overwatch spots the Nazi twins and if any of the Columbians decide to join the party Mindy will signal.”

Lester grinned. “I might not be in your class yet, Sonny, but I spent all morning on the range with Dave and Randy.”

Dave chuckled. “He ain’t gonna shoot himself in the foot at least. Actually he ain’t half bad for a tech guy. We got him set up with the Browning like Stan’s. Easy to shoot and nothing fancy.”

Sonny nodded. “Good. If anything goes down I’ll be the primary shooter inside. Burnett and all. He ain’t the kind to just sit and watch.”

Mindy looked up, and Sonny could tell she’d gathered her feelings in close for now. “What happens if it goes really south?”

“You two can take a hand and I’ll say you’re my people. Hell, Burnett ain’t dumb enough to wander into a meet with strangers with no cover. They might even have one or two of their boys stashed in the place somewhere. We only saw the one up close.”

“If they have people we should assume they’re former Bolivian military. Rangers or paratroopers.” Castillo looked around the table. “They will be good and quick on the trigger. Don’t take any risks.”

“Sonny and I will be live but deaf.” Rico chuckled. “No good way for us to hide those earpieces in close, and we don’t want to make them more nervous than we have to.”

Castillo looked around the table. “If there’s nothing else get ready to move out. I’ll be with the Roach Coach tonight. With deputies Blair and Mather in overwatch you might need an extra body on the ground.”

Trudy nodded. “I’ll second that, captain. I’ve done some digging into those Columbians and Sonny isn’t kidding. They’re vicious little bastards and have a thing for small automatic weapons. If they manage to find those two, they’ll hit them hard and not give a damn where they are or who they’re with.” She smiled. “So we’ll be keeping Stan company tonight.”

 

There wasn’t much to say on the drive to Rumours. Sonny kept a light hand on the wheel, easing the Ferrari through the evening traffic like he had nothing better to do. And this was something he and Rico had done hundreds of times before. The drive to another meet with their play-acting clothes and faces on full display. He’d slid into Burnett easily, maybe too easily. The dark suit and dark tie going well with the dark glasses and the thoughts rolling around in his head. He’d keep it cool around the girl; that was his job. But if she got too close to Jenny…

“You think those chumps will try anything tonight?”

Sonny shrugged, thankful Rico had yanked him back to the job at hand. “I think the Hitler Youth want this deal too damned bad to try anything funny. Not yet, anyhow. Not good for business.” He looked at the cars sliding past as they turned off the main drag. “And the Columbians would have to find them first.”

“Yeah, but I’m thinking those two wouldn’t be hard to find. They still don’t get this game.”

“She’s trained. And smugglers usually don’t take out full-page ads in the Herald.”

“Just so you know, partner, I’m gonna play them tough. My guys in New York are getting kinda burned on Miami coke.”

“Yeah. We’ve shut down enough pipelines they would be.” Sonny slowed the Ferrari to a crawl and turned into Rumours’ well-lit parking lot. “And we’re on scene. I’ll back whatever play you make, Rico. Burnett’s all about the money, after all.”

The doorman looked like he was about to argue until he saw Sonny’s glare and the Rolex decorating Rico’s wrist. The smile came up and the rope went down. “Welcome to Rumours, gentlemen.” He did a double take. “Mr. Burnett! It’s been a few years.”

Sonny looked back, his brain sorting through the almost endless chain of big guys with square jaws and bad haircuts he’d dealt with over the years. “Julio, right? Used to work the down down at the Copa?”

“Good memory, sir. Yeah, but once that dump burned down I had to find a new gig. You two enjoy your evening.”

Rico raised an eyebrow, but Sonny didn’t reply until they were inside. “I don’t remember him that well. The Copa was one of the places the Manolo organization owned.”

“Got ya.” Rico looked around, peering through the strobe lights and shimmering glare from the metal fixtures along Rumors’ long bar. “I see our two at the bar. I gotta say Lester does look the part.”

Sonny followed his glance and saw Lester wearing a tailored dark blazer and loose linnen pants. Mindy was close by, her dress a subdued blue that set off her hair. Lester’s foot kept tapping in time to the aggressive techno beat, and he looked like one of the dozens of dance music fans packing the club. “Yeah, he does at that.” He nodded toward the back. “Let’s grab that table before some coked-up dance boy gets there first.”

They had just settled in and ordered drinks when Sonny looked toward the bar and saw Lester raise his glass like he was toasting Mindy. “Looks like the Hitler Youth are on their way in,” he said to Rico over the booming bass. “I wonder if any of their people are waiting in the wings.”

“I been eyeballin' that chump on the far edge of the dance floor. He never goes out. Just hangs there tryin’ to look like he’s not watching someone.”

Sonny followed Rico’s gaze. “Got him. Yeah, he ain’t the guy from the boat but he could be a cousin. And the way he’s standing? Military training. No civilian’s gonna be standing ‘at ease’ in a damned dance club.”

“And there they are. You’d think their daddies could spring for new threads.”

“Maybe they like the SS look, though I sure as hell can’t say much.” Sonny raised his hand, getting Hoffmann’s attention. “And it’s game on.”

They were almost to the booth when Monaele stepped in front of Hoffmann and took the seat nearest to Rico. “You were right,” she said in a throaty voice that reminded Sonny of Marlene Dietrich. “This is a better club.”

“She speaks.” Sonny chuckled and looked at Hoffmann. “Guess you’re just the public face, sport?”

“Some of the Hispanics will not do business with a woman. So I act like it is my deal.” He nodded toward Rico. “We do not have those problems with Mr. Cooper.”

Nodding, Rico turned his full attention to the girl. “See, the thing is my partners have been burned down here before. Coke deals that turned into busts or firefights. It took some convincing, and that product of yours, to bring ‘em around. But they aren’t convinced, and I’m not, either.”

A confused look spread over her face. “But you have the product…”

“I got one shipment. And not the quantity we’ll need on a regular basis. Like I mentioned on the boat, my people want steady, dependable supply. Something Miami ain’t had much of lately.”

Sonny nodded. “He’s got a point, sister. Feds took down two big trafficking rings not too long back. Hell, they almost got me moving one of Cooper’s loads up past Lauderdale. It’s getting the product here, to Miami, that concerns me. After that, you just hand it off and count your money.”

She nodded, and Sonny didn’t like what he saw in her eyes Then it was gone. “Our way is better. Slower but more secure. And proven. Not with drugs, but with other…products.”

“Smugglers are a dime a dozen, sweetheart. Good ones, maybe a quarter a dozen. But my business is different. You get caught, Customs slaps you on the wrist. I get spotted, the Coast Guard tries to sink me and if I get caught it’s twenty years of Federal time.”

Rico raised his hand. “We can discuss the finer points later. What my associates want to know is how much weight you can deliver, guaranteed, every month. They need at least a hundred kilos. Anything less and they look elsewhere.”

She looked at Hoffmann. “We would need at least ninety thousand dollars a kilo.”

“Try eighty. Max. Even product like yours ain’t worth what it was. Crack’s too damned cheap to make. But my people will pay extra for quality.”

“One hundred kilos…”

“My people know what they need to break even. That’s their figure. If you can’t do it, say so now and we’ll go our own ways with no hard feelings. But don’t try to change the terms later. That makes my people angry.”

“And Cooper’s a damned good customer. Piss him off and I ain’t gonna take too kindly to it.”

“We must talk.” She turned to Hoffmann and they started arguing in what sounded like German to Sonny. Languages had never been his strong suit, and he wished Trudy was at the table. Or Mindy. She seemed to know a couple different languages. And their body language gave nothing away. So he contented himself with watching the man lurking by the dance floor. His tight jacket couldn’t hide the bulk of an UZI, so at most he had a pistol. Looking back, he noticed the two had stopped talking and were turning back to Rico. He wasn’t disappointed. The music was giving him a headache.

 

Dave Blair peered through the telescopic sight of his M-21 sniper rifle. The range was short enough he’d opted for speed over accuracy in case things went south tonight. And he was starting to appreciate his choice. His back was starting to tingle like spiders were dancing up and down his spine. “Range me.”

“To the door? Two twenty five.”

“Two twenty five.” Dave shifted his aim point a hair, compensating for range and elevation. “I got the spiders again.”

“Shit.” Randy’s voice was matter-of-fact, and Dave knew his spotter had learned to trust the spiders long ago in Vietnam. “Anything?”

“Not yet…” Dave shifted. “Wait. Got one, now two of those Columbians Sonny gave us pictures of. Moving for the door, and not going slow. Might be two more on the other side. I think they’re already in.” He spoke loud enough for the team in the Roach Coach to pick up every word. “The lead one on my side just pulled out a Tech 9.”

Randy raised his binoculars. “Confirm the Tech 9. He just loaded it and is going for the doorman.”

Castillo’s voice came through their earpieces. “Green light.”

“Roger that.” Dave exhaled partway, letting the crosshairs settle on the base of the man’s neck. The backstop was shit, but it was either risk that or the chance the guy might get a burst off before he fell. The crosshairs held, and then the rifle drove itself back into the pocket of his shoulder. “Hit.” He was already tracking for the second man, who was frozen staring at the spray of blood fountaining from his partner’s body as it crashed to the ground.

“Confirm. Cortex hit. He never got a shot off.”

The rifle boomed again, and the second man spun away, a sawed-off shotgun skidding across the concrete as people stared screaming and running. “Hit.”

“Confirm. Center mass. The two outside are down. No sign of the other two.”

 

Inside the club the booming bass drowned out the rifle shots. The first Sonny knew of trouble was when Mindy raised her glass. He started scanning then, his hand going under his blazer from pure reflex, ignoring the looks on the faces of the Hitler Youth. He saw their security guy raise his hands in what looked like slow motion and stumble into couples on the dance floor. Then he saw the blood, turned black and a muddy brown by the strobing lights, and the dying man dragged a screaming girl down with him as he fell.

Without conscious command his Smith & Wesson filled his hand, the big stainless steel pistol throwing little darts of light when the strobes caught it. “We got company!” he shouted, pushing past Hoffmann and taking scant cover behind the booth’s side wall.

“You don’ cheat us, bitch! You an’ your fucking woman gonna die!”  Hector Soldado, unmistakable in a light gray tux he might have stolen from Izzy’s dryer at the laundromat and his trademark flowing mustache, stepped out from behind a knot of confused bystanders,. He brandished what looked like a cut-down pump shotgun, and the guy beside him sported a nickel-plated .45. “No one sets up Hector Soldado!”

“And no one interrupts Sonny Burnett’s deal, Hector. You got a death wish now?”

Hector’s posture changed in an instant. “Burnett? You mixed up with those lying cunts? They set me up, mano! Sold me out to the damned cops.”

“You were always a stupid shit, Hector. How do you know it was them?”

“Because the cops knew! How many keys. Where they were. They knew it all. And now I kill me that bitch and maybe fuck the other one before I kill her, too.”

“It don’t work like that, Hector. See, I don’t give a shit about those to, but I do care about the ongoing deal you’re about to fuck up.” Sonny smiled, feeling the rush of Burnett moving through his veins. He could feel the two Nazis staring at him, and didn’t care. This was his city. His moves. “So you can get the hell out or try your luck. But you ain’t got the stones to take a run at Sonny Burnett.”

The club was almost clear now, screaming people flooding out the various exits like rats fleeing a sinking ship. He could sense Lester and Mindy by the bar, but so far they were staying back. Waiting in case they were needed. The DJ left the music running, and bass continued to thump a heartbeat behind the entire scene. Hector and his man stood on the dance floor, suddenly realizing they were alone.

“Last chance, Hector. You were always a slow bitch, you know that?”

“Fuck you, Burnett! I’ll show you slow!”

The shotgun’s muzzle flash was a bright rocket in the dim club, and Sonny heard buckshot shredding the fake leather of the booth. But he’d counted on the sawed-off not having enough juice to reach this far, and he’d been right. One or two pellets might have scratched the skin on his forearm, but that was a small price to pay. Sensing his mistake, Hector bellowed something in Spanish and racked the shotgun. Sonny saw the smoking casing spin away and knew Hector would move to close the range.

Bringing up his 4506-1, he squeezed off two shots, diving away as he saw Hector spin away clutching at himself. His shoulder jarred as he hit the hardwood dance floor, rolling up to his knees in time to see the second gunman starting to recover. Light flashed off nickel as the man brought up his own pistol and started trying to track Sonny’s movements. Two shots ended that effort, and he joined his boss in a spreading pool of what looked like black blood.

Recovering, Sonny turned to see Rico covering the Hitler Youth with his Walther. “We’re getting the hell out of here and then you two are going to tell me what the hell he was talking about.” Rico’s voice was a hiss, and Sonny knew he was a pound of pressure away from pulling the trigger.

“You got that right. I don’t know what the hell you two think you’re playing at, but here in Miami we sink rats in the canals.”

Hiding their guns under their jackets, Rico and Sonny joined the flood of people outside. Monaele and Hoffmann looked straight ahead, but neither tried to bolt or break free. Sirens howled in the distance, getting closer with each passing heartbeat, and Sonny looked at Rico. “We’ll take their car. Mine’s a bit small.” He looked at Monaele with a smirk. “It’s a Mercedes, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The red one by the light pole.” She reached into her pocket, and he shifted the pistol under his jacket. “You’ll need the keys. I doubt you’d want one of us driving.”

“You got that right, sister.” Rico waited until Sonny slid into the driver’s seat before cracking Hoffmann sharply behind the ear with the butt of his Walther and stuffing the limp form in the back seat. “I doubt he’d have anything to tell us, anyhow. You’re the brains, right lady?”

Sonny eased the big car into traffic, keeping away from the main roads until they were three miles away from Rumours. Monaele sat next to him, looking distinctly uncomfortable with Rico’s pistol tapping her on the ear from time to time. “Such a shame,” his partner joked after one particularly hard tap. “I liked that club.”

Sonny had to admit she kept her cool. “Shall we talk now?” she finally asked when they were well clear of any wandering police.

“Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what that fool was talking about. We did do a deal with him, yes. For forty kilos. Maybe a bit less. It was all he could afford. He claimed he was brokering it for someone else. I do not know. I do know the night he did the deal he had five men with him. Maybe one of them, how did you say? Ratted him out?”

“Or maybe you did.”

Sonny shook his head, playing Burnett the diplomat. “But if she did, why not rat us out? Us and Biggs and his buddy? Or at least Biggs and Patch.”

She nodded. “We have product we must sell. Why would I want to remove buyers?”

“Maybe so you can control the price. Chumps new to the game think that way. They don’t get that for every load there’s always a swarm of buyers. Only known one or two cats who could corner a market, and that was because they had unique product you could only get from them. Your coke’s good, sister, but there’s other dudes moving flake in this town. Even primo Bolivian.”

“How did Hector find us?”

“Maybe he followed us from the marina. He did get a look at the boat, and she is hard to miss.” The girl smiled, and Sonny picked up the pride she had in her boat. “And we did not make the best choice with the car.”

“For me this is just another night on the town, but Cooper here don’t like getting shot at. It harshes his mellow.”

“What?”

“It ruins my damned day, lady! That’s what.”

Sonny grinned, changing course for one of the yacht clubs. Speaking for the benefit of the team in the Roach Coach, he said, “We’ll pick up your car at Downbeat, Cooper, and then turn this broad and her boy loose.”

“You falling for their act?”

“No. I’m falling for my cut of the deal. Maybe she did rat out Hector. Hell, it was about time someone did. But I plan on keeping her and her boy close during those deals, and if someone tries to rat me out I can guarantee who’s gonna get shot first.”

She tuned to look back at Rico. “As a show of good faith, the first shipment will be seventy a kilo. Ten below your price. Think of it as compensation for your ruined evening.”

As Sonny had hoped, the team had leapfrogged Rico’s Caddy to the parking lot of Downbeat, and they got out there. As the girl slid into the driver’s seat, Sonny leaned in and handed her a card. “Call that number when you’re ready to deal.”

“But don’t take long! My people think they’ve wasted enough time in this damend town already.”

“You will have arrangements for the first deal by tomorrow night.” The power window hissed up and she turned the Mercedes back toward the yacht clubs.

Sonny raised his wrist. “If you can get a loose tail on her, do it.” Then he turned to Rico. “I don’t know about you, partner, but I could use a drink.”

[mjcmmv]

8 hours ago, Robbie C. said:

It was almost midnight when Martin Castillo stepped out of the shadows surrounding the crumbling boathouse. “Isn’t this a bit cliche, Derek? Even for you?”

The man he was meeting gave a short snort that might have passed for a laugh and stepped out of his rented Chevy. His tan London Fog trench coat shone with newness in the wan light from a single fixture mounted to the side of the boat house. “Yeah, I suppose. But with the Cold War ending and all we gotta take what we can get. You look good, Marty.”

“So do you, since we’re lying to each other.” Castillo smiled. Derek looked like hell, his thin face worn and battered by years spent fighting the shadow war with the Soviets and God knew how many other enemies foreign and domestic. He’d first met Derek in Saigon when he was with Project Phoenix and Derek was an advisor on loan to the South Vietnamese National Police. Their paths kept crossing over the years, and they’d helped each other now and again. “You still working South America?”

“When they let me. Hell, they’ve tried to put me out to pasture so many damned times I feel like a dried-up milch cow. But they always come back. Must be my winning personality.”

“Or you know where all the bodies are buried.” Castillo moved out of the cone of light from the overhead, seeing Derek do the same. Old habits and all that. No point in making it easy for anyone.

“You and me both, Marty. I heard about Jack, by the way. A few years too late, but you have my sympathy. He was a great agent.”

“Yes. And a good friend.”

“And we don’t have many of those, do we?” Derek chuckled. “So how can I help? I owe you at least one favor if I remember correctly. Probably more like ten, but who counts these days?”

“I’ve got a case with ties to Bolivia.”

“Man, South America is so yesterday’s news. You should be poking around Africa with the rest of the cool kids. Lucky for you I’m not cool, either.” Derek grinned. “Let me guess. This is about old Herr Hoffmann and his good pal Herr Jankow.”

“You know them?”

“Not socially. They’re two crazy old Nazis who live in one of those mountain compounds scattered around South America. You know, the ones where they only speak German and shoot any natives who get too close? Yeah, one of those.”

“What made you think of them?”

“I’ve been warning Langley about them for years now. Three to be precise. But no one listens. Like I said, it’s all Africa now. ‘We are the World’ and all that. This new guy in the White House has a stiffy for the whole continent, and money follows presidential stiffies.”

“DEA doesn’t have much on them.”

“They wouldn’t. This is above their pay grade.” Derek took a step closer, and Castillo could see the light in his eyes. “I’ve been watching those two goose-stepping psychos for almost ten years, but didn’t start putting it together until they sent their kids into the Caribbean. Playing smugglers or some shit. But it’s bigger than that. Those two have ties in the Bolivian army. Not the regular army, mind. The special operations sections. At least two of the commanders of the ranger regiments are frequent guests at the old homestead. So’s the colonel in charge of the airborne infantry regiment. They pick their friends well.”

“How’s that?”

“All hard-line types with strong Spanish bloodlines. No Indians in ‘em at all. I’ve watched stuff move in and out of that compound, seen them change from coffee to coco, and all kinds of other shit. Those old boys are planning a coup, Marty. I’d bet my secret squirrel decoder ring on it. And you know I love that damned thing.”

“Is that what you took to Langley?”

“Hell, no. I had a full file. Imagery. Reports of conversations between the colonels and the Nazis. You name it. And they just nodded and shredded it all. ‘Crazy old men’ they said. ‘Nothing to it’ they said. But you know the trouble with crazy old men? They dream with their eyes open.”

“Well, we might be able to break this one for you, Derek.”

“Man I hope so. Just watch those kids. Especially the girl. The way I heard it she trained with one of those ranger regiments before she turned into a bikini pirate. The son? He’d rather be buggering his way across the seven seas. But he’s loyal to daddy and does what he’s told.”

Castillo nodded. It made sense, including the reasons Langley would ignore the reports. It also explained why his other contact and Tubbs’ DEA friend had nothing on it. And he trusted Derek. The man lived and breathed field work and tradecraft. If he said there was something there, that was all Castillo needed. “Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll just watch the papers. But tell your people to be careful. These two might be virgins when it comes to drug smuggling, but they’ve done their share of wet work in the mountains of Bolivia. Especially that girl. Monaele. She’s a nasty piece of work. Don’t let the looks fool you.”

“I never do. Take care of yourself, Derek.” Castillo waited until the rental car disappeared around a bend in the road before turning and heading back to his own vehicle. With any luck he’d get back in time to hear Trudy play some more. He needed the jazz to sort through the thoughts in his head.

 

Sonny looked from Castillo to Rico and back again. “So do you believe this guy?”

“Yes. He’s unconventional, but he’s got a sharp mind. And he knows South America like the back of his hand. If he says there’s a coup in the making, I believe him.”

“But they don’t have a chance.”

“Maybe not. But as Derek says, desperate old men dream with their eyes open. Their coup might fail, but it would be a bloodbath either way.”

Rico nodded. “Yeah. Worse than the drug wars, and that takes some doing.”

“And we’d sit on our hands.” Sonny shook his head, seeing the evacuation of Saigon all over again in his mind. The fear on the faces of the Vietnamese they got out. And the hot rage on those they didn’t. “Been through one of those already, and I don’t care to see another one.”

“We won’t.” Castillo’s voice had the cold firmness to it showing he’d made up his mind. “We’re going to stop those two. It’s clear the old men trust no one else to do the fundraising for their cause. We shut them down, the plan likely sinks from its own delusions.”

Rico nodded. “And we’re on for tonight. That chump came back on the radio almost before I clicked off the mic. They want this deal. No question.”

Before Sonny could reply, there was a knock on the door and Mindy came in. Her face was paler than usual, and the papers she held in her hands shook. “I got the report on Jankow’s father.”

Rico took the papers and smiled, but Sonny saw it had no effect. Rico scanned the first sheet, turned to the second, and squeezed Mindy’s hand hard. “It’s ok, lady.” Then he set the papers on the desk.

Castillo read quickly, summarizing as he scanned. “Her father was SS. Part of the SD as well.” He looked up at Sonny. “Their supposed intelligence service. In 1942 he let one of the killing squads in the Ukraine. His unit killed over fifteen thousand people in just over a year. Russian POWs, women, children, Jews, gypsies, anyone who got in their way. Then he got greedy. The SS arrested him for theft of all things when he was second in command at one of the smaller concentration camps in Poland. When everything fell apart in 1945 he slipped out through the Vatican City and headed for Argentina. His family had commercial interests there before the war. There and Bolivia.”

“We might not be able to get him, but we sure as hell can get his daughter.” Sonny felt the rage rolling in him, and used Burnett’s cold calm to lock it down. “Look, we can’t show that we know anything about her. Or him. They’ll smell it, and if they do they’re gone. If it helps, think of them as any other drug dealer.”

Castillo nodded. “I know you’re angry. Use that anger. Master it, don’t let it master you. Crockett’s right. We have one shot at these two. And Derek warned especially about the girl. I’m counting on you and the rest of the team to bring them in or take them down.”

Sonny nodded. “Thanks, Mindy. I’m guessing Trudy already saw this.” He smiled when she nodded. “It’s ok. We’ll talk about it during the overview, which should be in about ten minutes. Spread the word.” Once she left he turned to Castillo. “They’ll handle it, Marty. It’s a matter of staying focused on the mission. That and those Columbians are still out there somewhere. We can’t afford to get pissed and get sloppy.”

“Let me talk to them and then we’ll walk through the plan.”

Out in the conference room Sonny turned to Rico. “She gonna be ok, partner?”

“Yeah. I think her grandfather was in one of the units that liberated Dachau. He used to show them pictures.”

“Just when you thought you’d seen it all in this job…” Sonny let his voice trail off as the others took their seats and Castillo came out of his office.

“By now you all know who we’re up against,” he said as he sat down. “But we have to stay focused on our objective: shutting down Hoffmann and Jankow. Who their parents are, and what they did, doesn’t factor into that. I learned last night that Jankow is a bigger threat than we thought. She’s trained with Bolivian ranger units and has likely killed before. She’s a skilled, vicious adversary. If she even thinks we aren’t who we say we are, she’ll disappear. And we cannot allow that. Someone that dangerous cannot be allowed to start over somewhere else.”

Sonny nodded, taking Castillo’s slight nod as his cue. “And those Columbians are out there somewhere, too. They aren’t as well-trained, but they’re vicious little bastards in their own right and we know how the game’s changed. At least now the FBI’s actually doing their jobs and chasing real criminals, so we don’t have to worry about them blundering into the line of fire. And nothing we know now changes the plan.”

Stan nodded. “Lester and Mindy will be wired for sound and have earpieces as well. Lester will signal when overwatch spots the Nazi twins and if any of the Columbians decide to join the party Mindy will signal.”

Lester grinned. “I might not be in your class yet, Sonny, but I spent all morning on the range with Dave and Randy.”

Dave chuckled. “He ain’t gonna shoot himself in the foot at least. Actually he ain’t half bad for a tech guy. We got him set up with the Browning like Stan’s. Easy to shoot and nothing fancy.”

Sonny nodded. “Good. If anything goes down I’ll be the primary shooter inside. Burnett and all. He ain’t the kind to just sit and watch.”

Mindy looked up, and Sonny could tell she’d gathered her feelings in close for now. “What happens if it goes really south?”

“You two can take a hand and I’ll say you’re my people. Hell, Burnett ain’t dumb enough to wander into a meet with strangers with no cover. They might even have one or two of their boys stashed in the place somewhere. We only saw the one up close.”

“If they have people we should assume they’re former Bolivian military. Rangers or paratroopers.” Castillo looked around the table. “They will be good and quick on the trigger. Don’t take any risks.”

“Sonny and I will be live but deaf.” Rico chuckled. “No good way for us to hide those earpieces in close, and we don’t want to make them more nervous than we have to.”

Castillo looked around the table. “If there’s nothing else get ready to move out. I’ll be with the Roach Coach tonight. With deputies Blair and Mather in overwatch you might need an extra body on the ground.”

Trudy nodded. “I’ll second that, captain. I’ve done some digging into those Columbians and Sonny isn’t kidding. They’re vicious little bastards and have a thing for small automatic weapons. If they manage to find those two, they’ll hit them hard and not give a damn where they are or who they’re with.” She smiled. “So we’ll be keeping Stan company tonight.”

 

There wasn’t much to say on the drive to Rumours. Sonny kept a light hand on the wheel, easing the Ferrari through the evening traffic like he had nothing better to do. And this was something he and Rico had done hundreds of times before. The drive to another meet with their play-acting clothes and faces on full display. He’d slid into Burnett easily, maybe too easily. The dark suit and dark tie going well with the dark glasses and the thoughts rolling around in his head. He’d keep it cool around the girl; that was his job. But if she got too close to Jenny…

“You think those chumps will try anything tonight?”

Sonny shrugged, thankful Rico had yanked him back to the job at hand. “I think the Hitler Youth want this deal too damned bad to try anything funny. Not yet, anyhow. Not good for business.” He looked at the cars sliding past as they turned off the main drag. “And the Columbians would have to find them first.”

“Yeah, but I’m thinking those two wouldn’t be hard to find. They still don’t get this game.”

“She’s trained. And smugglers usually don’t take out full-page ads in the Herald.”

“Just so you know, partner, I’m gonna play them tough. My guys in New York are getting kinda burned on Miami coke.”

“Yeah. We’ve shut down enough pipelines they would be.” Sonny slowed the Ferrari to a crawl and turned into Rumours’ well-lit parking lot. “And we’re on scene. I’ll back whatever play you make, Rico. Burnett’s all about the money, after all.”

The doorman looked like he was about to argue until he saw Sonny’s glare and the Rolex decorating Rico’s wrist. The smile came up and the rope went down. “Welcome to Rumours, gentlemen.” He did a double take. “Mr. Burnett! It’s been a few years.”

Sonny looked back, his brain sorting through the almost endless chain of big guys with square jaws and bad haircuts he’d dealt with over the years. “Julio, right? Used to work the down down at the Copa?”

“Good memory, sir. Yeah, but once that dump burned down I had to find a new gig. You two enjoy your evening.”

Rico raised an eyebrow, but Sonny didn’t reply until they were inside. “I don’t remember him that well. The Copa was one of the places the Manolo organization owned.”

“Got ya.” Rico looked around, peering through the strobe lights and shimmering glare from the metal fixtures along Rumors’ long bar. “I see our two at the bar. I gotta say Lester does look the part.”

Sonny followed his glance and saw Lester wearing a tailored dark blazer and loose linnen pants. Mindy was close by, her dress a subdued blue that set off her hair. Lester’s foot kept tapping in time to the aggressive techno beat, and he looked like one of the dozens of dance music fans packing the club. “Yeah, he does at that.” He nodded toward the back. “Let’s grab that table before some coked-up dance boy gets there first.”

They had just settled in and ordered drinks when Sonny looked toward the bar and saw Lester raise his glass like he was toasting Mindy. “Looks like the Hitler Youth are on their way in,” he said to Rico over the booming bass. “I wonder if any of their people are waiting in the wings.”

“I been eyeballin' that chump on the far edge of the dance floor. He never goes out. Just hangs there tryin’ to look like he’s not watching someone.”

Sonny followed Rico’s gaze. “Got him. Yeah, he ain’t the guy from the boat but he could be a cousin. And the way he’s standing? Military training. No civilian’s gonna be standing ‘at ease’ in a damned dance club.”

“And there they are. You’d think their daddies could spring for new threads.”

“Maybe they like the SS look, though I sure as hell can’t say much.” Sonny raised his hand, getting Hoffmann’s attention. “And it’s game on.”

They were almost to the booth when Monaele stepped in front of Hoffmann and took the seat nearest to Rico. “You were right,” she said in a throaty voice that reminded Sonny of Marlene Dietrich. “This is a better club.”

“She speaks.” Sonny chuckled and looked at Hoffmann. “Guess you’re just the public face, sport?”

“Some of the Hispanics will not do business with a woman. So I act like it is my deal.” He nodded toward Rico. “We do not have those problems with Mr. Cooper.”

Nodding, Rico turned his full attention to the girl. “See, the thing is my partners have been burned down here before. Coke deals that turned into busts or firefights. It took some convincing, and that product of yours, to bring ‘em around. But they aren’t convinced, and I’m not, either.”

A confused look spread over her face. “But you have the product…”

“I got one shipment. And not the quantity we’ll need on a regular basis. Like I mentioned on the boat, my people want steady, dependable supply. Something Miami ain’t had much of lately.”

Sonny nodded. “He’s got a point, sister. Feds took down two big trafficking rings not too long back. Hell, they almost got me moving one of Cooper’s loads up past Lauderdale. It’s getting the product here, to Miami, that concerns me. After that, you just hand it off and count your money.”

She nodded, and Sonny didn’t like what he saw in her eyes Then it was gone. “Our way is better. Slower but more secure. And proven. Not with drugs, but with other…products.”

“Smugglers are a dime a dozen, sweetheart. Good ones, maybe a quarter a dozen. But my business is different. You get caught, Customs slaps you on the wrist. I get spotted, the Coast Guard tries to sink me and if I get caught it’s twenty years of Federal time.”

Rico raised his hand. “We can discuss the finer points later. What my associates want to know is how much weight you can deliver, guaranteed, every month. They need at least a hundred kilos. Anything less and they look elsewhere.”

She looked at Hoffmann. “We would need at least ninety thousand dollars a kilo.”

“Try eighty. Max. Even product like yours ain’t worth what it was. Crack’s too damned cheap to make. But my people will pay extra for quality.”

“One hundred kilos…”

“My people know what they need to break even. That’s their figure. If you can’t do it, say so now and we’ll go our own ways with no hard feelings. But don’t try to change the terms later. That makes my people angry.”

“And Cooper’s a damned good customer. Piss him off and I ain’t gonna take too kindly to it.”

“We must talk.” She turned to Hoffmann and they started arguing in what sounded like German to Sonny. Languages had never been his strong suit, and he wished Trudy was at the table. Or Mindy. She seemed to know a couple different languages. And their body language gave nothing away. So he contented himself with watching the man lurking by the dance floor. His tight jacket couldn’t hide the bulk of an UZI, so at most he had a pistol. Looking back, he noticed the two had stopped talking and were turning back to Rico. He wasn’t disappointed. The music was giving him a headache.

 

Dave Blair peered through the telescopic sight of his M-21 sniper rifle. The range was short enough he’d opted for speed over accuracy in case things went south tonight. And he was starting to appreciate his choice. His back was starting to tingle like spiders were dancing up and down his spine. “Range me.”

“To the door? Two twenty five.”

“Two twenty five.” Dave shifted his aim point a hair, compensating for range and elevation. “I got the spiders again.”

“Shit.” Randy’s voice was matter-of-fact, and Dave knew his spotter had learned to trust the spiders long ago in Vietnam. “Anything?”

“Not yet…” Dave shifted. “Wait. Got one, now two of those Columbians Sonny gave us pictures of. Moving for the door, and not going slow. Might be two more on the other side. I think they’re already in.” He spoke loud enough for the team in the Roach Coach to pick up every word. “The lead one on my side just pulled out a Tech 9.”

Randy raised his binoculars. “Confirm the Tech 9. He just loaded it and is going for the doorman.”

Castillo’s voice came through their earpieces. “Green light.”

“Roger that.” Dave exhaled partway, letting the crosshairs settle on the base of the man’s neck. The backstop was shit, but it was either risk that or the chance the guy might get a burst off before he fell. The crosshairs held, and then the rifle drove itself back into the pocket of his shoulder. “Hit.” He was already tracking for the second man, who was frozen staring at the spray of blood fountaining from his partner’s body as it crashed to the ground.

“Confirm. Cortex hit. He never got a shot off.”

The rifle boomed again, and the second man spun away, a sawed-off shotgun skidding across the concrete as people stared screaming and running. “Hit.”

“Confirm. Center mass. The two outside are down. No sign of the other two.”

 

Inside the club the booming bass drowned out the rifle shots. The first Sonny knew of trouble was when Mindy raised her glass. He started scanning then, his hand going under his blazer from pure reflex, ignoring the looks on the faces of the Hitler Youth. He saw their security guy raise his hands in what looked like slow motion and stumble into couples on the dance floor. Then he saw the blood, turned black and a muddy brown by the strobing lights, and the dying man dragged a screaming girl down with him as he fell.

Without conscious command his Smith & Wesson filled his hand, the big stainless steel pistol throwing little darts of light when the strobes caught it. “We got company!” he shouted, pushing past Hoffmann and taking scant cover behind the booth’s side wall.

“You don’ cheat us, bitch! You an’ your fucking woman gonna die!”  Hector Soldado, unmistakable in a light gray tux he might have stolen from Izzy’s dryer at the laundromat and his trademark flowing mustache, stepped out from behind a knot of confused bystanders,. He brandished what looked like a cut-down pump shotgun, and the guy beside him sported a nickel-plated .45. “No one sets up Hector Soldado!”

“And no one interrupts Sonny Burnett’s deal, Hector. You got a death wish now?”

Hector’s posture changed in an instant. “Burnett? You mixed up with those lying cunts? They set me up, mano! Sold me out to the damned cops.”

“You were always a stupid shit, Hector. How do you know it was them?”

“Because the cops knew! How many keys. Where they were. They knew it all. And now I kill me that bitch and maybe fuck the other one before I kill her, too.”

“It don’t work like that, Hector. See, I don’t give a shit about those to, but I do care about the ongoing deal you’re about to fuck up.” Sonny smiled, feeling the rush of Burnett moving through his veins. He could feel the two Nazis staring at him, and didn’t care. This was his city. His moves. “So you can get the hell out or try your luck. But you ain’t got the stones to take a run at Sonny Burnett.”

The club was almost clear now, screaming people flooding out the various exits like rats fleeing a sinking ship. He could sense Lester and Mindy by the bar, but so far they were staying back. Waiting in case they were needed. The DJ left the music running, and bass continued to thump a heartbeat behind the entire scene. Hector and his man stood on the dance floor, suddenly realizing they were alone.

“Last chance, Hector. You were always a slow bitch, you know that?”

“Fuck you, Burnett! I’ll show you slow!”

The shotgun’s muzzle flash was a bright rocket in the dim club, and Sonny heard buckshot shredding the fake leather of the booth. But he’d counted on the sawed-off not having enough juice to reach this far, and he’d been right. One or two pellets might have scratched the skin on his forearm, but that was a small price to pay. Sensing his mistake, Hector bellowed something in Spanish and racked the shotgun. Sonny saw the smoking casing spin away and knew Hector would move to close the range.

Bringing up his 4506-1, he squeezed off two shots, diving away as he saw Hector spin away clutching at himself. His shoulder jarred as he hit the hardwood dance floor, rolling up to his knees in time to see the second gunman starting to recover. Light flashed off nickel as the man brought up his own pistol and started trying to track Sonny’s movements. Two shots ended that effort, and he joined his boss in a spreading pool of what looked like black blood.

Recovering, Sonny turned to see Rico covering the Hitler Youth with his Walther. “We’re getting the hell out of here and then you two are going to tell me what the hell he was talking about.” Rico’s voice was a hiss, and Sonny knew he was a pound of pressure away from pulling the trigger.

“You got that right. I don’t know what the hell you two think you’re playing at, but here in Miami we sink rats in the canals.”

Hiding their guns under their jackets, Rico and Sonny joined the flood of people outside. Monaele and Hoffmann looked straight ahead, but neither tried to bolt or break free. Sirens howled in the distance, getting closer with each passing heartbeat, and Sonny looked at Rico. “We’ll take their car. Mine’s a bit small.” He looked at Monaele with a smirk. “It’s a Mercedes, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The red one by the light pole.” She reached into her pocket, and he shifted the pistol under his jacket. “You’ll need the keys. I doubt you’d want one of us driving.”

“You got that right, sister.” Rico waited until Sonny slid into the driver’s seat before cracking Hoffmann sharply behind the ear with the butt of his Walther and stuffing the limp form in the back seat. “I doubt he’d have anything to tell us, anyhow. You’re the brains, right lady?”

Sonny eased the big car into traffic, keeping away from the main roads until they were three miles away from Rumours. Monaele sat next to him, looking distinctly uncomfortable with Rico’s pistol tapping her on the ear from time to time. “Such a shame,” his partner joked after one particularly hard tap. “I liked that club.”

Sonny had to admit she kept her cool. “Shall we talk now?” she finally asked when they were well clear of any wandering police.

“Go ahead. I’m listening.”

“I don’t know what that fool was talking about. We did do a deal with him, yes. For forty kilos. Maybe a bit less. It was all he could afford. He claimed he was brokering it for someone else. I do not know. I do know the night he did the deal he had five men with him. Maybe one of them, how did you say? Ratted him out?”

“Or maybe you did.”

Sonny shook his head, playing Burnett the diplomat. “But if she did, why not rat us out? Us and Biggs and his buddy? Or at least Biggs and Patch.”

She nodded. “We have product we must sell. Why would I want to remove buyers?”

“Maybe so you can control the price. Chumps new to the game think that way. They don’t get that for every load there’s always a swarm of buyers. Only known one or two cats who could corner a market, and that was because they had unique product you could only get from them. Your coke’s good, sister, but there’s other dudes moving flake in this town. Even primo Bolivian.”

“How did Hector find us?”

“Maybe he followed us from the marina. He did get a look at the boat, and she is hard to miss.” The girl smiled, and Sonny picked up the pride she had in her boat. “And we did not make the best choice with the car.”

“For me this is just another night on the town, but Cooper here don’t like getting shot at. It harshes his mellow.”

“What?”

“It ruins my damned day, lady! That’s what.”

Sonny grinned, changing course for one of the yacht clubs. Speaking for the benefit of the team in the Roach Coach, he said, “We’ll pick up your car at Downbeat, Cooper, and then turn this broad and her boy loose.”

“You falling for their act?”

“No. I’m falling for my cut of the deal. Maybe she did rat out Hector. Hell, it was about time someone did. But I plan on keeping her and her boy close during those deals, and if someone tries to rat me out I can guarantee who’s gonna get shot first.”

She tuned to look back at Rico. “As a show of good faith, the first shipment will be seventy a kilo. Ten below your price. Think of it as compensation for your ruined evening.”

As Sonny had hoped, the team had leapfrogged Rico’s Caddy to the parking lot of Downbeat, and they got out there. As the girl slid into the driver’s seat, Sonny leaned in and handed her a card. “Call that number when you’re ready to deal.”

“But don’t take long! My people think they’ve wasted enough time in this damend town already.”

“You will have arrangements for the first deal by tomorrow night.” The power window hissed up and she turned the Mercedes back toward the yacht clubs.

Sonny raised his wrist. “If you can get a loose tail on her, do it.” Then he turned to Rico. “I don’t know about you, partner, but I could use a drink.”

Good battle in the club. I like how Lester is coming into his own. And the beginning with Castillo and his old buddy was well done. Great story! 

[vicegirl85]

Another exciting chapter!  Liking how Castillo still has his contacts, and how well the team works together.

[Robbie C.]

I felt like I had to give Lester SOMETHING to do, and it just kinda made sense he'd be a techno guy. Derek was another of those characters who just sort of appeared.