With Friends Like These....Conclusion (Part XV)

[Robbie C.]

It was cooler out on the water, a fresh breeze enhanced by the speed of the Scarab as they cut through the calm sea. Sonny kept one hand on the wheel and the other close to the throttles, watching the gauges shift in their backlit orange glow. He wanted to run her all out, but they had a timeline to meet. And checking the chart and his compass, he knew it was time to throttle back a bit.

Behind him he heard Tiny chuckle. “Yeah, I’d wanna run this baby full-out, too. Just don’t feel right poking along.”

“Yeah, but we don’t want to hit the rendezvous too early. No point in looking too eager.”

Rico nodded. “You got that right. And they’ll have to change their MO in any case. Can’t do no damned wire transfer on a raft, and you ain’t got the gear on this boat.”

“We’ll tie up alongside her boat, then. No way we’re getting separated.” Sonny’s voice was firm. “That’s how I’d pick someone off if I wanted to get rid of them out here.”

Brick spoke up. “You think they’ll go for it?”

“Yeah. They won’t like it, but they won’t have a choice.” Sonny checked the chart again. “They need this deal too damned bad. I just wish we knew why.”

“We can ask ‘em when we grab ‘em.” Rico shielded his face from another plume of spray. “Damn! I should have worn a cheaper suit.”

“And ruin your image? What would New York say?”

“New York can kiss my ass. They ain’t payin' for the dry cleaning.”

Sonny grinned, glad he could lift the mood for even a moment. He knew he was having a hard time keeping on track, and guessed it was as bad if not worse for the other men on the boat. That damned ‘why’ still floated around in his head. They had a partial answer, thanks to Marty’s old friend Derek, but for Sonny there was another piece still out there. If Monaele was just here to raise money for some coup, why had she tried to find Jenny? Unless she never planned to come north again and saw this as her last chance to get her payback.

“How close are we, partner?”

Blinking, he looked at the chart again and did some quick calculations based on elapsed time and the boat’s speed. “About ten minutes. We should hit just before eleven. Same damned time they wanted you to radio. Maybe they dip into range about his time for some reason or another.”

“Or they just have a thing for work close to midnight. Who can say with the damned Hitler Youth?”

“You can ask ‘em when we grab ‘em.” Tiny racked a shell into his SPAS shotgun and flicked on the safety. “And I don’t know about you gents, but I’m lockin’ and loadin’.”

Brick nodded, loading his own MP-5 and switching on the safety. Rico did the same with his Walther, and Sonny let the boat have its head for a moment while he loaded his Smith & Wesson and stuffed in back in his Jackass rig.

“We’ll follow Rico’s lead for the most part, but I might toss some attitude at them if they get too pushy.” Sonny eased back on the throttles, and the boat’s nose settled into the water as it slowed even more. “Keep an eye on their guys.” Raising his wrist, he spoke more to Castillo than anyone else. “And you might want to launch the bird now. When this goes down we won’t have much time.”

“At least they can’t outrun us.” Brick found a chuckle somewhere in his thick chest. “Not with a damned sailboat anyhow.”

“No, we do have that.” Sonny shook his head. “And I’m a damned moron. Either of you any good with boats?”

Brick nodded. “More than fair, I’d say. Lived out by Los Angeles for a few years. You want me to stay back?”

“Yeah. If things go south Tiny’s shotgun will be better in close. And if they try to run you can cut loose and keep ‘em in sight until the bird gets here.”

“You got it, boss.” He looked at the controls. “Mind if I take over?”

“Go for it. I’m gonna switch that blinking assembly on so they know we’re here.” He looked out over the water. “Damned new moon. But I think I see ‘em off the starboard bow. Big black shadow maybe three hundred yards out. No lights.”

Tiny squinted. “Yeah, there’s something there. Could be our birds.”

The navigation lights came to life, red lights blinking while the green held steady. Seconds later an answering blink of green came from the low shadow. “And we have a winner.” Sonny grinned. “Ease us over that way, Brick.”

They’d barely covered a hundred yards when the whine of an outboard motor reached Sonny’s ears. The Zodiac emerged from the gloom, and he could pick out a swatch of blonde hair in the bow. “No closer! We do the deal here.”

Rico’s voice boomed. “Don’t be a bigger idiot than you already are, Frank! How the hell we gonna do a wire transfer on that toy? Didn’t your boss tell you how things work in the big leagues?”

Sonny watched as the man raised what looked like a small radio and spoke into it. Brick eased back on the throttles and they idled next to the inflatable, Tiny staring down at the two men with Hoffmann. They could have been twins, one on the motor and the other close to Hoffmann. Both looked to be armed with UZIs. He had to freeze a smile off his face as Tiny coughed up phlegm and spat into the water inches from the side of the Zodiac. Perfect damned move!

Hoffmann looked up, his pale face almost merging with his hair. “You are right. Follow us. We will tie the boats together and do the deal. But no tricks.”

“Tricks ain’t my department. Business is my thing.” Rico grinned. “And I’m damned glad my associates aren’t here to see amateur hour. You gotta up your game if we’re gonna do more business.”

Hoffman didn’t reply, just motioned to the guy on the motor who turned the Zodiac around and sent it bobbing toward the shadow in the near distance. Sonny nodded, and Brick eased the throttles forward, sending the Scarab through the water at what for the big boat was a crawl. “Just don’t run the shithead down,” Sonny muttered. “Thought I don’t know that it would be a loss.”

“Roger that, boss.” Brick never took his eyes off the bouncing raft. “Tiny, watch that bigger boat close, hear? I don’t like the looks of it.”

Sonny felt the opposite as the low-slung ship took shape out of the gloom. She was a twin-mast ride sure enough, with clean, raked lines and a hull that looked fit for long distances. The sails were furled, and he could just make out one or two men in the bow from the flashing green navigation lights. “Two up front,” he whispered just above the steady thumping of the Scarab’s twin V-8s. “Looks like two more aft. I think I might see her in the cockpit, but I can’t tell yet.”

Tiny hefted his shotgun. “That deck’s awful open. They try anything up there, I’ll be able to knock ‘em down before they know what happened.”

Sonny nodded. “Belowdecks is a bit trickier. But there’s only one way in or out. They’ll still have one big advantage.”

Rico nodded. “Yeah. We need ‘em alive.”

The Zodiac bounced around the stern of the ship, coming to a stop inside the arc of a lift system mounted above the fantail. In seconds the craft was hoisted in the air, Hoffmann and his crew jumping down to the deck as the inflatable was secured. Brick eased the Scarab beside the sailboat, cutting most of the engine power and letting the smaller craft drift into position. Two lines acred across, and Tiny made them fast to belay points on the sides of the Scarab.

Rico looked at Sonny and grinned. “Let’s get this shit done.” Finding the gap in the lines running like a low fence around the sides of the sailboat he scrambled on board. Sonny followed, the slick soles of his black slip-ons losing purchase for a moment until he used the lines to steady himself. Tiny followed, his eyes and shotgun missing nothing.

Hoffman was in the middle of an animated discussion in German about something, when Monaele silenced him with a raised hand. “Frank will go below and bring up samples.” She looked from Sonny to Rico, her eyes missing nothing. “I am sure you will want to test.”

“You got that right, lady. And you’ll want to authenticate my bank codes.” Reaching into his jacket, Rico pulled out a slip of paper. “That’s the first set. You get the rest once the product checks out and we’ve loaded half of it.”

She nodded, and Sonny saw her checking out both Tiny and Brick. “That seems fair. And I apologize for the show with the small boat.”

Sonny kept his voice Burnett-flat. “Old habits. Yeah, I get that. Hell of a jump from whatever you were running before to narcotics.”

“Do I ask about your affairs?”

“No. You had your partner do that. Things get back to me, lady. And I like to know a bit about people I’m dealing with. I know just about all the runners in the dope racket in South Florida, and you ain’t one of them.”

“No. I work north of here. And no, not usually with drugs.”

“Sure. Guns and art. Makes sense with the stealth and small boat routine.” Sonny wanted to keep poking, but he could see her getting nervous and didn’t want to push too hard. It was a fine line, and crossing it would get them nowhere. “Never my style, but it can turn good money. Just takes a different touch than I’m used to.”

“And what might you be used to?”

“Scale, lady. One load of high-grade coke will buy three boats like that one.” He waved toward the Scarab. “Maybe more. So you load four boats and send ‘em balls to the wall from someplace offshore to the coast. You lose one, you can buy nine more like it on the profits from the three that got through. Used to be you could beat the Coast Guard with stealth. Now it takes spend and numbers.”

“I see.” She looked at him with an appraising glance. “And this works well for you?”

“Damn straight. There’s other tricks, too. But I don’t put out on the first date.”

Rico laughed. “Burnett here is all business, my dear. Me? I mix business with pleasure. But my business is different than his. And I see your assistant is back with the product.” He nodded toward Hoffmann, who was coming up from below with four different bricks of cocaine. “I’ll test these while you make your checks.”

“Yeah. We sit here too long someone might notice. Maybe competition like we saw the other night.” Sonny looked back toward the Scarab. “Keep that nav radar on. Let me know if anything pops up uninvited.” He smiled at the girl. “I’m not expecting any company.”

“Neither am I.” She turned and started below. “The radio equipment is below. Frank will keep you company until I’m done.”

Sonny shrugged, using his bored act to scout out the ship better. Like Tiny said, the deck was open and clear except for a low wheelhouse and some associated navigation gear. An open hatch led below, and the men who’d been with Hoffmann had disappeared down there as soon as the Zodiac was secure. Working security or going off shift? Sonny couldn’t tell. The other four men lounged on the deck, bracing themselves on the masts or lines as the ship rocked up and down with the waves. None of them looked especially comfortable at sea, but they all looked familiar with the UZIs slung from their shoulders.

Rico shook his last test tube and held it up in the light from the wheelhouse. “Looks good. We have a deal.”

Monaele came up from below seconds later. “Yes, we do. The first codes are good.” She turned to Hoffmann. “Have the men move the product to Burnett’s boat. We need to be ready to depart as soon as the transfer’s complete.”

Sonny looked at Rico, who gave a slight shake of his head. Yeah. We gotta be patient. Get at least some of the stuff on the boat before we try to take them. But it’s a damned thin line. “My guy will show them where to load the stuff.” He nodded to Tiny. “This one stays here.”

She nodded. “Of course.”

As the men moved back and forth with gym bags of drugs, Sonny found himself watching the girl even more. She’d lost the pencil skirt and business look, wearing instead tight black jeans and a top of some dark material he couldn’t identify and a short black leather jacket. There was a distinct bulge at the hip where he figured she had a pistol of some kind. But on the boat she moved with authority, while Hoffmann looked as lost as he had in the club and every other time Sonny had seen him. Here she was clearly in charge.

There was a pause in the loading. “That is roughly half of the product,” she announced.

Rico smiled his smooth Cooper smile. “Of course.” He reached into his jacket pocket. “And here’s the second set of codes.”

Sonny caught Brick’s eye and nodded, signaling the big man to give Castillo the code phrase. “Engine’s lookin’ good, boss,” the big man shouted across the water, and Sonny knew the wrist mic would pick it up loud and clear.

 

Back on shore, Lester sat up like someone had hit him with a cattle prod. “That’s it, captain. The call.”

Castillo nodded, his face a stark outline in the light from the equipment in the van. He raised a radio mic and keyed the transmitter. “Go.”

 

The pilot’s voice crackled through their headsets. “We got the order. It’s a go.”

The deputy marshals in the back of the Coast Guard HH-60J looked at each other and nodded, checking their ropes and equipment one last time. Dave slapped Randy on the back and checked his CAR-15 by feel. He’d done this more times than he could remember, first with M-14s and then M-16s in Vietnam and an assortment of long guns since then. Feeling the metal under his fingers, even through repelling gloves, did much to keep the spiders dancing on his spine at bay.

They’d been orbiting at low level for just over ten minutes when the call came in. Unlike the Hueys he’d ridden in Vietnam, the HH-60’s nose didn’t drop when it accelerated. But he could tell from the engine pitch they’d picked up speed considerably, and the big bird was also faster than any Huey he’d been in before. Looking out the open cargo door he imagined he could see the white caps of waves whipping past as the pilot held the bird at maybe thirty feet above the water.

Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the feeling. Sonny had hit it right. Something was off about this one, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. And Dave hated not being able to pin things down. Maybe it was because the Hitler Youth were such glaring amateurs at the business. Or maybe it was the prospect of a firefight with former Bolivian military. He wasn’t sure. But it bothered him.

He ran his fingers over the carbine again, feeling the familiar edges of the bolt release, checking the fit of the magazine, running his thump along the safety, knowing a quick push would flip it all the way from safe to rock and roll. Little things. Little routines. Settling his mind into the discipline of drills and training. Years of practice.

It seemed only seconds had passed when he saw the door gunner on the left side of the bird tense and point. The crew chief gave the signal, and the deputies braced a foot by their ropes, ready to kick them out the door. The bird flared, and a searchlight mounted in the nose came to life with the brilliance of a thousand suns Then the pilot’s voice crackled through a loudspeaker. “U.S. Coast Guard! Prepare to be boarded and searched!”

 

Sonny felt the helicopter before he heard it, a faint vibration in the hair on his arms and the back of his neck taking him all the way back to Vietnam. He turned to Rico and faked a snarl. “We need to get moving, Cooper. I feel like I’m strapped to a target out here.”

Rico looked at him and started to reply when he heard the helicopter. “What the hell is this?”

Monaele turned and barked something in German to one of the crewmen. When she turned back to them, her eyes were hot. “This is your doing!”

“Like hell, you dumb bitch. You’re the amateur here. Or maybe the rat!” Sonny made a show of starting to reach under his blazer when the spotlight blazed to life and the pilot’s voice cracked over them like a whip.

Hoffmann’s voice was a scream. “Kill them!”

Half-blinded by the searchlight, Sonny pulled his Smith & Wesson and let the sight hover over Hoffmann’s legs. “Deputy marshal! Drop your weapons and put up your hands!” Over the thump of the helicopter and the shouts of men he thought he heard another engine start, but there was no time.

Hoffmann yanked a pistol from the waistband of his jeans, and Sonny shot him high in the leg. Tiny’s shotgun boomed twice nearby, and he thought he heard Rico’s Walther pop through the ringing in his ears. Then black snakes feel from the sky and the warrant team with Dave and Randy rappelled to the deck.

“Cover them!” In two steps Sonny was beside Hoffmann in the aft seating area, kicking the pistol away from his straining fingers and kicking him hard between the legs. “Just lay there! Brick? You good?”

“Fine, boss.” The big man’s shout echoed form the Scarab.

Seeing a flash of movement near the bow, Sonny fired twice and heard a heavy splash as a body fell into the water. Muzzle flashes bloomed like flowers from the opposite side of the bow, and he went sprawling as slugs ripped up the wood decking. Then Randy was at his side, his CAR muzzle flashing brilliant fireworks as he put a three-round burst into the Bolivian gunman. The rest of the team moved with a familiar fluidity, clearing the deck and then sweeping below in a single, trained motion. Shouts of “clear” echoed from below, and then Dave stuck his head out. “Boss…you gotta see this.”

The saloon had been converted into a sort of war room, the walls covered with maps of South Florida and Bolivia. Routes were traced in red and blue ink, and documents covered the table. Sonny looked around, and then his blood ran cold. One corner was dedicated to his marina. Photos of the St. Vitus Dance. One or two of him. And way too many of…

He turned away, his voice hard and cold. “Where’s the fucking bitch?”

Rico stood in the gangway. “I don’t…”

“Where’s that damend girl?”

Tiny shook his head. “They cut the damned Zodiac down just before the shooting started, boss. I think she lit out in that.”

“Get the bird.”

“It’s looking for the motor yacht.” Rico’s voice was stretched thin. “And Randy told me it’s got orders to stay on station until the cutters get here.”

Turning, Sonny walked over to Hoffmann and aimed another kick at his sprawled body, ignoring the red strain spreading from his leg. “Did she go to the marina? Answer me, punk, or this shit gets much worse real fast.”

“Yes.” The words came from between gritted teeth. “She will try to finish the girl. I don’t know why. She wanted to kill her before we left Florida in any case.”

In two steps Sonny was at the rail. “Brick! Come on over and help them secure the boat. I’m heading in.”

Rico’s voice came from behind him. “Sonny! Call it in, man! They can get there…”

“Slower than I can.” Sonny cast off the lines and took a last look at his partner and friend. “I can’t let her die, Rico. Not again.” Then he slammed the throttles wide open and the Scarab leapt away with a roar.

 

In the Roach Coach, Trudy turned and looked at Castillo. “We should go to the marina.”

He shook his head. “We can’t. We still have to control the scene and wrap up the operation.” He sighed. “And he’s right. He’ll get there before we could. I’d send the helicopter, but it’s not under our control.” He saw the pain in her eyes, knowing it reflected his own. “By the time we could get there it would be too late. And this is something Sonny has to do on his own. We’ll move as soon as they report the cutters on station.”

 

Sonny didn’t feel the wind slapping him in the face, or the salt spray stinging his eyes. He watched  the gauges, backing off a bit if things ran too hot but running the boat as hard as he dared. She had a head start, but he was sure he had the speed. He just hoped it was enough.

The Scarab lifted itself out of the water with each wave, cutting through and slamming back down. Eventually he did have to back off a bit as the water got rougher. He cursed, then realized it didn’t matter. She’d face the same problem and have to slow down, too. Maybe sooner than he had. The Zodiac wasn’t as good in rough seas as the Scarab.

A part of him felt guilty about leaving Tubbs and the team. He should be back there, not running across the water with a hundred keys of cocaine loaded in his boat. But one look at those pictures told him all he needed to know. And this time he wouldn’t hesitate.

Soon the marina lights came into view, and he throttled back to make the passage through the buoy line and into the sheltered anchorage. Most fo the boats were dark and still, their owners either asleep or ashore somewhere doing God knows what. He just hoped she’d stayed with Angie again, but also knew he wouldn’t get that lucky..

He killed the engine and let the Scarab drift into its mooring spot, jumping onto the dock as soon as he was close enough. Pistol in hand, he covered the distance to the gangplank in maybe two heartbeats. Shadows danced and played on the weathered boards as a light breeze stirred rigging and badly-furled sails on the boats around his. But the weak dock lights did little to dispel the gloom. Then he saw the candle flickering in the saloon port and knew she was there.

He started up the gangplank, ears straining to catch any sound. “Jenny?” he whispered, sweeping the 4506-1 back and forth with each step. “Darlin’? It’s me. Sonny. Are you…” Something stabbed him in the left side and he fell to the deck unable to move. It was like he’d just been hit by lightning. All he could do was try to breath and stare up into those cold eyes as she stepped out from the shadows by the mast.

 

Jenny Walker had been dozing in the aft stateroom when she heard the first noise. It had been a long day, going through the last set of operations plans with Angie, and she wanted sleep. But she wanted Sonny more, so she’d forced herself to stay awake, waiting for him to come home.

She’d set up this meeting to make sure her money was going where it needed to in order to keep Caitlin’s House running. In her first life, when she still did what her daddy wanted, Jenny had been taking business classes and helping him with his work, so she understood finance. Her money was best used to keep the doors open; paying power and water bills and upkeep on the house. It was a fixed amount, so it was easy to budget that way and the extra could create an emergency fund. Caitlin’s holdings, now controlled by Sonny, were more complicated, but she thought she and Angie had finally worked that part out, too. They were even holding the first staff interviews next week. She smiled and closed the binder. It made her smile to think she’d be able to tell Sonny the house would be up and running before the end of the year.

It had been a long ride from that first day when she’d wandered down the dock with a six pack hoping to get his attention. But she’d known from that day he was the one, known it with a certainty her heart could explain without words. She smiled, thinking of those first weeks and how they’d stretched into months. Shifting, she felt the white t-shirt pull a bit in the shoulders. Soon she thought.

Leaving her second life hadn’t been a question once she decided he was real and that he loved her. Smuggling art had been fun at first, but then she started bumping into the other parts of the smuggling life: people who ran guns, drugs, or even other people. The hard, nasty side Monadele seemed called to while Jenny turned away. Looking back she wasn’t even sure how she’d drifted into it herself. Only that she was glad she’d left.

Looking over, she saw the picture of Caitlin again. She knew he’d expected her to make him take it down, but the thought never occurred to her. Without Caitlin, Sonny wouldn’t be the man she’d fallen in love with, and Jenny thanked her for the gift every time they went to her grave. And she did admire Caitlin for having the ability to see past the punk Sonny had been and start to shape the man he’d become. And after talking to Angie, she knew her admiration hadn’t been misplaced.

The wind picked up a bit, changing the rhythm of the waves slapping the side of the boat. It also kept her from hearing something bump against the hull. But she heard the light footsteps on the deck above her. At first she thought it might be Sonny, and she started to unzip the cutoffs. Then she stopped. The steps weren’t right. They were too light. Too… Reaching under the pillow she pulled out the MatchMaster Trudy had given her and checked the chamber. Loaded. Good. Hefting the familiar weight, she tucked it into the waistband of the cutoffs. She doesn’t know what she walked in to.

They’d been friends once. She and Monaele. Back in the early days, when Jenny was just hitting her stride and Monaele was the rich girl who wanted to learn. Her and that big, stupid boat of hers. What good was a boat if you couldn’t crew her yourself? But Monaele always wanted to have boys fawning around. Not men, but boys. Boys she could feel superior to and cast aside when she was tired of them. She’d made enemies that way, and Jenny was pretty sure it was one of her former lovers who’d turned her in.

And now she was here. Jenny smiled, her blue eyes determined. She slid off the bed without a sound, moving from the stateroom to the saloon like a shadow. She thought she heard his voice over the slap of the waves and the creak of the boat’s rigging, and started to reply. It was then she heard the heavy thud.

Monaele’s voice floated down the gangway. “Your little toy might be broken, Jenny. You’d better come up and check.”

Jenny covered the few feet in a heartbeat, and came up to see Sonny sprawled on the deck twitching. Monaele stood over him, a long black box in one hand and a SiG 9mmin the other. “I hit him with this,” she said, displaying the stun gun with a casual wave. “And maybe I’ll finish him with this.” She shifted the SiG so it was pointing at his head. “Or maybe I’ll start lower.”

“No.” Her voice was firm. Hard. She remembered the man she’d killed when he came after Trudy. Monaele had the same eyes. Empty and evil. And the same dead blackness flickering around her.

“Silly girl. You don’t have it in you. You never did. You were always soft. Always needed someone to hide behind. Daddy. His money.”

“And whose money do you hide behind, Monaele? It’s not yours. I made my own way. Earned my own boat.” The anger rose in her now. “You had daddy buy you that big barge of yours. But I guess you need that to haul your fat ass around and all those boys you played with. Did you ever think one of them might have given you up?”

“It doesn’t matter. Now I have to start over because of this cop.” She glared down at Sonny’s twitching form. “But I can still have some fun. Make you suffer first. I’ll shoot him, and then maybe you. Or maybe I won’t shoot you, and you’ll have to live with what happened to him.”

Jenny shook her head, bringing up the big .45. “I don’t think so, bitch.”

“Your hand’s shaking. You can’t shoot me. You don’t have the guts.”

 

Sonny tried to swim through the fog, but someone kept tugging him back under. Things would swim into focus then fade out again, but as the shock wore off the fuzz lifted away. He saw Monaele standing over him with a SiG, and Jenny in the gangway. Jenny! He tried to move, but his muscles refused to respond to commands. He tried to shout, but nothing came out. He heard Monaele make her threat, and he looked over at Jenny, seeing something in her eyes he’d never seen before.

“You can’t shoot me. You don’t have the guts.”

Jenny’s voice was cold, distant. And somehow familiar. “Wrong.”

He saw Monaele’s eyes go wide, sensing for the first time she’d underestimated Jenny. She started to raise the SiG, and then three shots boomed out from a .45. The impact spun Monaele around, and in the flash of motion Sonny saw that he could have covered all three bullet holes with his hand. Then her dead body crashed to the deck and he felt Jenny’s arms around him.

 

Martin Castillo draped his suit coat around Jenny’s shoulders, more to shield her from the swarming Metro-Dade officers than as protection from the cold. The Roach Coach had rolled in five miuntes before the uniforms arrived, giving him time to assess the situation and see to things.

Trudy put her arm around Jenny. “He’s gonna be find. Those stun guns just hit you with a big jolt of electricity. He’s still a bit groggy, but it’ll pass quickly.”

One of the uniforms came over. “We need to interview her. Now.”

Castillo turned, his eyes blazing as he showed the fat sergeant his badge. “Captain Castillo. Seconded to the U.S. Marshal’s Special Task Force. She’s involved in a Federal case, which is not in your jurisdiction.” His eyes narrowed as he read the number on the man’s badge. “You’re the sergeant who harassed my African-American Lieutenant when my sergeant was shot. How are you still wearing those stripes?”

“Relax, hoss, I mean captain. I…”

“I don’t care who your rabbi is. Who you think your guardian angel is. You just attempted to interfere with a material witness in a Federal case. You have one second to leave the scene before I have you arrested on Federal charges. And you will lose those stripes.”

The man’s mouth opened, then snapped shut as Trudy started to move toward him. Then Stan appeared out of the darkness, big and mean and ready to go. “I remember this asshole, captain. He weaseled his way out of an IAD investigation for beating up hookers. Who’d you give up to beat that rap, fatso?”

“You always were a bitch, Switek. Even on patrol.” The sergeant’s anger overcame any common sense he might have had. “Think you can talk that way to me?”

Castillo turned to Stan. “Sergeant Switek, arrest this man. He’s attempting to interfere with a Federal witness and refused to obey a lawful order to leave the scene. We’ll hold him until the marshals arrive on scene and can take custody.”

The man started to stammer, and then stopped when he saw the look on Castillo’s face. Stan grinned a big, mean Biggs grin and stretched out his hand. “Cough up the piece, pal. And your holdout, too. No Overton kids around here for you to drop it on after you shoot them. Yeah, I know your tricks, pal.”

Jenny looked up, and Castillo saw a kindred light in her eyes. “He’s an evil man, you know.”

“I know. And now his time’s up. There’s always been more than one leak in Metro-Dade, and we might have found the second one tonight.” He favored her with one of his full smiles. “But that’s not your problem. Look after Sonny.”

“I will, Martin. Thank you again for bringing him to me.”

“But now we’re even. You saved him for both of us tonight.”

She smiled. “I guess I did. But I was thinking more about ending her. She was like the man they sent to kill Trudy. Already dead.”

“In many ways.” He looked over at Trudy and smiled. “Maybe Trudy will tell you about her. I need to check on Crockett now.”

Sonny was sitting in the back of the ambulance bitching at the EMT. “I’m fine, damned it! You don’t need to stick that thermometer up my ass or probe anything else.”

Castillo smiled. “If he’s complaining, he’s fine. Can we have a minute?”

The EMT nodded. “Sure. We’re not gonna transport him in any case. I got a look at the stunner she used. It’s not one of the dangerous ones. Just take some aspirin if you start having aches.”

Sonny waited until the man walked to the front of the ambulance. “How’s Jenny? I saw her shoot that bitch.”

“She’s fine. Just like she was when she shot Menton’s man. We both owe her now.”

“Yeah.” He looked over, seeing her slim form as she talked with Trudy. “Who’d have thought it coming from her?” Then he looked down. “I shouldn’t have left the scene, Marty. It was a lapse in judgement.”

“But perfectly natural. Especially after the whole thing with Hackman. The scene was calm, there were no hostiles left, and Tubbs had things well in hand. Consider it closed.” He rubbed his eyes, feeling the night’s pressure starting to slide away. “Tubbs did say they recovered a bunch of documents from the boat. Mindy and Trudy will go through them since they’re mostly in Spanish or he thinks German, but it should be enough to stop any coup that might be brewing down there.”

“Our good deed for the day.” Sonny chuckled.

“Maybe. Who can tell. But we’ll keep copies of anything interesting, just like we did with Maynard’s papers. And Moncado’s. And Delgado’s.”

“What do you think will happen to the boat?”

“It will be seized and processed by the Marshal’s Service.”

“I…I might actually try to buy it. I’m gonna talk to Jenny and see. It’s bigger than the Dance, and it’s something we could use for like team vacations.” He smiled. “Or she and I could just live on it, and if anything turns up we’ve got room to accommodate it.”

“I’ll let Chief Deputy Washington know.” Castillo stared out toward the ocean, hearing the slap of the waves against boat hulls over the babble of voices and grumbling of idling engines. Or at least he imagined he did. “You should go speak to her. Let her know you’re ok.”

“Yeah.” Sonny looked out in the same direction as Castillo, and when he spoke his voice was softer. “You think this was our last rodeo?”

“I don’t know. But if it was I can’t think of a better way to say goodbye to it all.”

“Neither can I, Marty. Neither can I.”

[mjcmmv]

Outstanding! Great ending!!! You had me on the edge of my seat all the way through!! 

Thank you, thank you!!

[Robbie C.]

Glad you enjoyed it. Funny how TF stuff never stays contained as a short story.

[mjcmmv]

33 minutes ago, Robbie C. said:

Glad you enjoyed it. Funny how TF stuff never stays contained as a short story.

Better for us!