Breaking Point Part II

[Robbie C.]

Ricardo Tubbs couldn’t get the tattoos out of his head. Even standing on the rooftop patio of the condo he called Casa Cooper with his arms wrapped around Mindy O’Laughlin. She kissed his forearm and smiled. “Your head’s still at work, isn’t it?”

“Kinda.” He chuckled. “One of ‘em, anyhow.” Now it was her turn to giggle as she pressed back against him. “It’s those damned tattoos. What the hell is it about a number that scared those two chumps so bad?”

She shook her head. “Beats me, Rico. We got queries in with the Feebs and DEA, but I’m not holding my breath. Especially with the FBI. They may have a new SAC, but they’ve got long memories in that office.”

“Yeah. And we rattled their cage a time or two.” Rico smiled and gave her a quick hug. “And you’re right. I’ll let it be. We can’t waste the Bird on the stereo over some chumps and their ink.”

As Charlie Parker’s saxophone notes mixed with the roar of traffic from the street below, Rico considered again just how lucky he was to be with Mindy. He’d given Sonny crap about just going with the flow when his partner had met Jenny, and now he understood just how hard that advice was to follow when you were on the other end. Once he’d learned his son was dead, Rico had resigned himself to being married to the Job until it was done with him. Then he’d turn into one of those bitter old cops making life miserable for his neighbors in some retirement community or another along the coast.

It was jazz that first brought them together, followed by their shared losses. She’d lost most of her family ties, and was just drifting with her job. He’d lost pretty much everything at one time or another. Then they found each other and after a few stumbling steps realized just what they had. She’d moved in a few months back, and he’d managed to buy the place with help from Sonny. Now they had a life, and a real chance at a future. It was something he didn’t like talking about. All too often talking had been some kind of jinx.

“What do you think our next case will be?”

The question came from what felt like hundreds of miles away, and he struggled to bring his mind back. “You know, pretty lady, I don’t know. I don’t think there’s any loose ends from this one, and the streets are pretty quiet. Maybe they’ll put us back supporting the high-risk warrant teams.”

“That’s good for me, not so good for you and Sonny.”

“Yeah, but we’ll get by. Hell, might go write a few moving violations for Traffic and help them hit their quota.” Tubbs grinned. “I’m sure the captain has something stashed away we can work on. Even if it’s gathering intel.”

She nodded, pressing back against him again. “I think it’s time to go inside.”

He let his hands come up a bit on her body. “I agree completely.”

 

“So the FBI’s got nothing?”

Trudy looked at the fax sheet. “So they say, Sonny. They aren’t helpful, but I don’t think they’d hold out on us.”

“Yeah. I guess even the Feebs aren’t that dumb.” Sonny glared at the paper, willing the words to change their shape and give him something. “And still no word from DEA?”

“No. They’re checking internationally as well as domestic.”

“Thanks, Trudy. Let me know if anything comes in.” Sonny turned and looked at the big Miami street map mounted on the long wall of the suite’s conference room. It was covered with markings showing overwatch zones scouted by Dave and Randy, locations of active bugs and phone taps, and assorted notations keyed to an index sheet on the table showing everything from the number of dealers working each corner to what kind of hookers favored which streets and when they were out. Keeping it updated was almost a full-time job, but he’d grown damend dependent on the map. Maybe too dependent.

“You starting to see pictures in those dots, partner?”

“Nothing new, Rico. Just the same punks trying to get something for nothing.” He pointed at one familiar neighborhood. “At least the Dominicans have stayed quiet.”

“Yeah. And no one’s tried to take the turf, either.”

“The Columbians are busy shooting each other up over some crack strip down near Little Haiti. It’s all nickel and dime stuff since we took down the last of the comers.”

“That and crack’s democratic. Easy to make and easy to push. You don’t need much of a network to get it out on the street.”

“That’s the scary thing about it, Rico.” Sonny stared at the map. “It pops up like some damned weed and is cheap and available. Who would have guessed crap like that would be the next big thing? Maybe speed will make a comeback, too. Hell, they can cook that in the swamps with stuff you buy at Walgreen’s.”

Before Rico could reply, Castillo’s office door opened. “Crockett, Tubbs. My office. We’ve got a new case.”

Sonny looked at his partner and grinned. “No rest for the wicked, eh, Tubbs?”

“Just when I was starting to get all lazy and comfortable.” Tubbs grinned back. “On our way, captain.”

 

Rodrigo looked up from the reports. “Tell me you have news.”

Captain Salazar nodded. “Yes, jefe. We do. Our two men are dead, not taken prisoner. They attempted to engage police conducting a raid on the target warehouse and were killed by counter-snipers.”

“And the locals?”

“They were arrested. As near as we can tell they did not talk, not that they could say anything in any case. They know nothing about El Unidad.”

The Unit. That’s what the men had started calling the organization. Outsiders called it Ocho if they dared mention any name. “Are you certain?”

“Of course, colonel. We never dealt with them. Our team was there to gather intelligence and await further orders. Corporal Valazquez was not one to ignore his instructions.”

“What do we have on those locals?”

“One is certainly ignorant. But the other, Orgato, has been to Columbia and Peru many times in the last few years. It is possible he has heard of us.”

“What do we know about this unit that took out our men?”

Salazar shrugged. “Not much, I’m afraid. Our network in El Notre is not as strong as I would like. But we keep hearing rumors of some kind of special unit.” He paused. “Do you recall Tico Moncado?”

“Some peasant from El Salvador, wasn’t he? Later did some contract work in Peru?”

“That’s the one. I think he was a major. He was working with a gringo.”

“Maynard.” Rodrigo spat the name like a curse.

“Yes. Anyhow, they were both killed along with the bulk of their men at an estate in the Florida Keys. Soon after the gun-runner they worked with was also killed. The same unit was said to be involved. I’ve also heard unconfirmed reports that the same unit was somehow involved in what happened in Bolivia.” Salazar paused. “What troubles me is I can’t pin down anything on this unit. They are like ghosts.”

“And I do not let ghosts interfere with our plans.”

“So the operation continues?”

“Yes, captain. Our people are in place?”

“Yes, sir. They are waiting for orders.”

“And those buffoons still refuse to cooperate?”

“Yes. You know how Columbians can be when they feel their precious honor has been insulted. They refuse to pay the agreed-upon amount.”

Rodrigo sighed. Always it was the same at first. The agreement. The refusal. The message. And then abject apologies and payment. It would be so much easier once they had their own networks. Their own transportation out of the production and processing regions. “You know what to do.”

“Si. We show them El Unidad means business.” He paused. “Do we do this the traditional way?”

“Of course. The Americans taught us well, Eduardo. It’s time they see what their students have learned.” He looked out the window. “Which team is in place?”

“Corporal Hidalgo’s.”

“Excellent. He’s experienced and knows just how far to take things. He’ll also know to leave the area of operations and await further orders. The message is to be delivered and that’s all. For now.” He turned back to Salazar. “But we need our own networks, Eduardo. Maybe we can step into the shoes of these peasants once they’ve been taught their lesson?”

“I’ll begin planning, Jefe.”

“Good. And keep digging for this special unit. If it’s not a ghost I want to know more about it. Or maybe the Americans just got lucky.”

Once Salazar saluted and left the room, Rodrigo walked to the coffee maker and poured himself a cup. Good mountain brew, not that mule piss the Columbians peddled to the world behind that ridiculous peasant with the mule who produced the ‘coffee.’ He wouldn’t be surprised if the Americans had some sort of special unit out there working these cases. With their resources they could have a special unit for nose-picking…one for each nostril if they felt the need. But he wasn’t going to let such a unit interfere with his plans.

If they existed, he almost felt like he owed them one for taking care of both Moncado and Maynard. Moncado had been a thorn in his side for years; a gutless, half-trained amateur trying to do a man’s work and failing miserably. And Maynard…that puta had always been too arrogant for his own good. But they’d had a large organization and money behind it. Having them out of the way gave his people room to step in without a costly battle.

He smiled and sat down. Without knowing it, Captain Salazar had identified their target for him. If he knew Columbians, they’d be squabbling like children over the remains of Moncado’s routes. It was time to show them what an adult could accomplish. Reaching for a yellow legal pad he started writing in a firm, clear hand. His mother had always insisted clear penmanship led to clear thinking, and he believed there was something to her idea.

 

Sonny looked at the report and then at Castillo. “They seriously want us to work this?”

Rico nodded. “It seems more like ATF’s turf, captain. No offense to the chief deputy.”

“I agree.” Castillo rested his hands on the top of his desk. “But the Miami office is still rebuilding after that fiasco with Holmes and his men. They just don’t have enough field-experienced agents to work this one.”

“Yeah. They did step in it out there. No question.” Sonny looked at Rico. “Guess we get to chase gun-runners again. Or at least provide support. Burnett’s not viable with that crowd any more.”

Rico nodded. “Yeah. Cooper might be, but he can’t just drive out there and sniff around. But I know someone who could…”

Stan was sitting at his desk when Sonny stuck his head through the tech room door. “Hey, Stan. You know where I can find a big biker dude called Biggs? Runs with a guy called Patch?”

“Seriously?” Stan put down a small screwdriver and looked up from the pile of electronics he’d been working on. Sonny couldn’t identify anything but the screwdriver.

“Yeah. We just got handed a case involving guns coming down from Lauderdale. ATF’s still trying to rebuild after that shit-show with Holmes and his rednecks, so Pete volunteered us.”

“Team Elvis is ready for duty, Sonny. Just give the word.”

“Consider it given. I’ll get you the intel as soon as it comes over from the Federal building. You think you’ll need Randy, too?”

“Doesn’t hurt.” Stan scratched his beard, and Sonny felt like he could see the gears turning in Stan’s head. “I’ll work up a plan as soon as we have the intel.”

“Castillo didn’t have much. Not yet, at least. Sounds like they might be some of good ol’ Earl Lester Holmes’ boys who didn’t get swept up when we took his bunch out.”

“Makes sense. Lie low a bit and then come back with whatever stuff they hid away and maybe open some new contacts.” Stan chuckled. “And it’ll give Gina a chance to wear her biker chick outfit again.”

“She’s not with the unit now.”

“Who said anything about it being at work, Sonny?”

Sonny laughed. “You got me there, pal. I’ll drop the intel by as soon as we get it. You might want to pull in Trudy or Mindy, too.”

Back in their office, Sonny sat down with a sigh. “Stan’s read in,” he announced.

“Yeah, and we’re riding the bench. Again.”

Nodding, Sonny leaned back in his chair. “Maybe we should go take a crack at those two assholes from yesterday.”

“Orgato and Falcone? They’ve already been transferred. Seems they had some outstanding warrants from South Carolina. Murder.”

“Damn. Maybe we can go hit a club or two. See what action we can shake out as Burnett and Cooper. Or maybe…”

“Don’t say it! I ain’t talking to that chump Izzy!”

“Yeah, you’re right. Izzy would call if he had anything. And his day’s pretty much done, I think.”

“You know, I think I saw the little chump on TV the other night. Doing an ad for one of those used car places.” Rico shook his head. “Or maybe Mindy and I had too much to drink at Downbeat.”

“Ya never know with that bozo, Rico. But I just feel like we gotta do something other than warm our chairs.”

“Yeah. I hear you. What about tonight?”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll let Castillo know. And give Jenny a call.”

“I might bring Mindy. Give her some undercover experience. And Cooper always looks better with a pretty lady on his arm.”

“You got that right.”

Castillo waited until Sonny was done. “And the purpose of this is?”

“Gathering intel and trying to make some new contacts.” Sonny looked down at the floor for a moment. “Rico and I are kinda out of the game, Marty. Most of our old contacts are dead or in prison, and we’re not making as many new ones as we’d like. The game’s changing out there, and we need to stay on it if we want to be current. I’ve got Stan working the ATF case, and he and Randy are perfect for the undercover work there. Rico and I would just be in the way.”

“Has the intel come in?”

“Not yet, but we’re expected it within the hour. I just let Stan know so he could start planning. He’s still got that Leo bozo and one other contact at least he can use. It’s too lowball a case for Cooper, they don’t need Burnett’s transportation, and Prentiss has never dabbled with guns.”

“Do it, but stay in contact.” Castillo looked up. “I know the game’s changing. We’ve become more direct action and less investigative. Part of that’s the amount of intel we can gather without informants. But we need to stay in touch with the street.”

Rico looked up when Sonny came back to the office. “Did he buy it?”

“Yeah, but we need to stay in touch with the office. He feels the change, too, and I think it worries him.”

“Solid. Let’s pick out some clubs.”

Sonny nodded, but there was still an itch in the back of his brain he needed to scratch. “I’m gonna see if that DEA search came back with anything. You want me to bring Mindy back with me?”

Rico nodded, and from the look in his eyes Sonny knew he was already running through the list of clubs he had in his head.

Mindy and Trudy looked up from their computer screens when Sonny knocked on the door frame. “You ladies get any love from DEA yet? And Mindy, we got a job for you tonight if you’re interested. Cooper needs a date to go clubbing.”

She smiled. “I’ll have Trudy help me pick out a dress. And yes, we got something. But it’s not much. DEA’s got some reports of a gang out of either Peru or Bolivia that seems to be acting as contract enforcers for some of the cartels down there. They’ve got a thing for big public messages and have even beheaded a rival or two. DEA’s people down there say they use the number eight as kind of a calling card. But that’s all they have.”

“Any record of them being in the States?”

“No. They’ve been reported mostly in Columbia or Bolivia, with some activity in Peru. But the information’s sketchy.” She shrugged. “DEA doesn’t seem too concerned so long as it’s traffickers gunning each other down.”

“Yeah. Thanks. Maybe our pals heard the stories and thought these guys were somehow connected.” Sonny shrugged. “Come on over and we’ll give you the run-down on tonight.”

 

It was just after ten when Rico pulled up outside The Overton. Why someone would name a club after one of the toughest neighborhoods in Miami had always been a mystery to him, but it was familiar ground. A good place to start tonight’s trolling.

He still couldn’t get over how hot Mindy looked in the tight emerald green dress that ended about three inches above her knees. Between that and the stiletto heels she’d turn plenty of heads. And no one would suspect she was checking the place out more than he was. She caught him staring and giggled. “At least I can see you approve of my disguise.”

“In more ways than one.” He shifted, adjusted the fit of his Armani suit coat. “We make quite the couple, don’t we?”

“And the beard makes you look more dangerous.” She ran her finger along the side of his face, making him wish he was going somewhere private with her. “Now let’s go to work.”

He could feel the bass from the Overton’s sound system when they were within fifty yards of the club. It was still a sea of neon and stainless steel, but it was changing with the times, too. The retro disco had been replaced by techno, and the crowd was a wide mix of the mid-level of Miami’s underworld. With Mindy on his arm he nodded to the doorman. “Sonny Burnett is expecting me.”

The big Hispanic nodded. “You must be Cooper and the plus one. Mr. Burnett told me to expect you.” He unclipped the velvet rope.

“Thanks, Tino.” Rico slipped the big man a fifty.

Mindy nuzzled against his shoulder. “How does Sonny do that?”

“Tino worked for the Manolo cartel, and then for Sonny during…that time.” Rico still didn’t like talking about the time when Sonny had become Burnett. Too many bad memories. And it’s still lurking in him. “He still thinks he can get back on the inside, and Sonny throws him a bone now and then, I think. A handy dude to have in your corner, though. Doormen hear and see everything.”

The line at the bar was three deep, and Rico guided Mindy around the throng and headed for the back booths. He spotted Sonny right away, the shades and dark blazer a dead giveaway Burnett was in the building and looking to do business. He looked up and nodded. “Cooper. Good to see you.”

Rico did his New York gentleman act, helping Mindy to her seat before sitting down himself. “What’s it look like tonight?”

“Tino says there’s a couple of climbers here, but I ain’t seen them yet.” Sonny’s voice was cold, distant. His Burnett voice.  “Just the usual collection of college kids and middle-age rejects trying to score.”

“Any idea who the climbers are?”

“He said one of ‘em is Raphael Carrera. He’s another of good old Tico’s boys who’s out of a job now. The other’s a name I haven’t heard before. Antonio Garcia.”

Rico nodded. “Him I know. Small-time chump who used to score pot from the Dominicans.”

“Does he know you?”

“Not on sight. He might have heard of Prentiss, but we never did business.” Rico smiled and gave Mindy’s hand a squeeze. “Now we need drinks if we’re gonna blend in.”

Five minutes after a dyed blonde in a cocktail napkin-sized dress dropped off their watered-down drinks, Sonny sat up straighter. “Over by the brunette who looks like she just did four lines of crank? That’s Carrera.”

Rico peered through the pulsing strobes, just making out a thin man with aviator sunglasses and cowboy boots. “He looks like a chump.”

“He is a chump, partner. But tonight he might be our chump.” Sonny got to his feet. “I’m gonna go say hello.”

Mindy watched as he cut his way through the crowd. “How does he do that?”

“He’s a master. You’ve seen me deal as Cooper? Sonny can do that with violence.” Rico squeezed her hand again. “Me? I’m either fightin’ or lovin’. But he can run it right up to the edge and back it down again.” He watched as Sonny reached Carrera. “Like now. That chump’s about to piss himself. Watch how he gets the dude back over here easy as you please. One grab on the arm, then a couple of words. And here they come.”

Sweat was streaming down Carrera’s narrow face, glittering like liquid diamonds in the pulsing strobes. Rico suppressed a grin as Sonny pushed him into an open chair. “Raphael Carrera, this is Cooper. I hear you’re moving up in the word.”

Carrera’s voice was high and rapid-fire from a few lines of his own product. “You take me away from my lady to talk, Burnett? I should…”

“You should nothing, pal. Here I try to do you a favor and you show me disrespect. You really think that’s wise, Raphael?”

The man’s jaw moved, but no words came out. Finally he swallowed. “No, Mr. Burnett. I didn’t mean that. But now that Moncado is gone we are all looking to move up.”

“Glad I never got mixed up in that shit show.” Sonny’s grin was a flash of teeth under his sunglasses. “So what do you do now, Raphael? Sell fake shoes to old men?”

“No. My crew has connections. Lines of supply. Not as much as Moncado, but we can still bring in good product.”

Rico leaned forward, deciding he needed to put himself in play now. “See, that interests me. And the people I represent. But I gotta admit, we don’t trust much out of Miami these days. Too much trouble.”

“And who the hell…”

“Mr. Cooper’s a good client. Down from New York City.”

Carrera swallowed again, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “New York City?”

“That’s what the man said.”

They went back and forth for a few minutes, but Rico quickly tired of the game. They weren’t going to bust Carrera for anything, and his value as a source of information seemed limited. Looking down at the Rolex that had once belonged to a Panamanian dealer, he shook his head. “You should get back to that girl, Carrera. Maybe she’ll believe the crap you’re spouting.”

“I don’t know what it’s like up north, Cooper, but things are tough down here. With Mr. Moncado gone every two-bit punk thinks he’s the next Escobar or something.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Look, man. I’m serious. We’re catchin’ it from all sides. The cops. Other guys thinking they can take what’s rightfully ours. Supply chain problems…”

“What problems? You can’t move the product fast enough?”

“No, man. That ain’t it. It gets interrupted at the source.” Carrera raised his hands palms up. “I ain’t heard nothing about no big busts down in banana land, but something’s messing with supply on that end. We’re bringing up what we can, when we can, but it ain’t dependable yet. And that ain’t on us.”

Sonny started a slow clap. “Congratulations, Raphael. You just cried enough for five two-year olds.” He turned to Rico. “Sorry to have wasted your time, Cooper.”

“It’s all good. Maybe we can find someone who doesn’t have supply problems.”

Carrera laughed. “Good luck with that, bro. It’s hittin’ us all. I wouldn’t expect Burnett to notice ‘cause he’s strictly pick up and delivery. But if you’re dealin’ with the source you see it.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Rico looked at Sonny, who gave a slight nod. “We might be in touch.”

“I’m here, bro. Damned near every night.” Carrera stood up. “And now I gotta go find that lady. She has this thing she does…”

Once he was gone, Rico turned to Mindy. “What did you think?”

“I hope he’s had his shots if he goes back to the brunette.” Mindy smiled. “But I think he’s serious about there being some kind of supply problem.”

Rico nodded, looking over at Sonny. “You wanna try to find this other chump or move on?”

“It’s almost midnight now. Let’s try one more and call it a night. I think we can count good old Raphael as a source now.”

 

It was after two before Sonny Crockett started down the dock toward Tranquility. The second club, a dive called Afterglow, had been a total waste of time, and he’d called it a night. He guessed Rico and Mindy were heading for Downbeat, but right now he just wanted some fresh air and a break from Burnett.

He found it easy to drop into the cover now. Maybe too easy. The dock lights were faint, and he stood for a moment breathing the salt-tanged night air, a dark shadow among other darker shadows on the weathered boards. Feeling Burnett sink back into the shadows of his mind. Only then did he continue on and climb the gangplank to the home he shared with Jenny.

The boat was dark and quiet, the candle she often left burning a memory in the small lantern he’d bought for that purpose. He shrugged off his dark blazer, hanging it in one of the narrow closets she’d added to the master berth. She’d extended their berth on the starboard side up to the saloon, leaving the small port berth intact in case they ever had company. It still amazed every time he went below.

She stirred as soon as he sat down on the bed. “I’m glad you’re home,” she said, her voice still throaty with sleep. “I wanted to stay up…”

“No. You sleep. You’ve got a meeting with Angie in the morning.”

She propped herself up on one elbow, the sheet falling away from her upper body. “How did it go?”

“Tonight? Waste of time for the most part. We did get one punk who might be useful, but that was it.” He signed, running a hand through his hair. “It just reminded me how out of touch Rico and I are with what’s happening out there. Used to be we could hit The Overton and one other club and come away with five or six leads.”

She smiled her soft little smile. “Maybe you need to let them come to you. Burnett’s got a reputation, right? Use it.”

“You’re right.” He smiled, pulling off his linen slacks and draping them on one of the sideboard seats. “Hell, half the doormen in town want to work for me. Maybe next time we’ll try just parking someplace and see who shows up.”

“Hold court.” She reached out and pulled him down to her. “But now I want you to hold me.”

The next morning Sonny managed to beat Rico to the office. Stan was already there, going through the files that had finally come over from the Federal building. “Coffee’s on, Sonny,” he announced with a grin. “I wanted to get a head start on this gun runner thing.”

“How’s it look?”

“ATF really doesn’t have much.” Stan waved a dismissive hand at the files. “A couple of names. A couple of rumors. And what might be a case or two of M-16s or rusty pipe depending on whose report you read first. But I did recognize one of the names. Old friend of mine. Skaggs. Dumber than a a box of left-handed monkey wrenches, but an old-school Nazi type. If he’s involved it won’t take me more than thirty seconds to be involved, too.”

“Does that include Randy?”

“More or less.” Stan looked around. “Skaggs might not trust him right off, but I think we can make it work.”

“This guy sounds like a real winner. How’d you meet up with him?”

“I kept him from getting his dumb ass kicked by four Bandidos back when I was working a speed case around The Outlaw. I manage to run into him now and then and buy him a beer or two. Morons like that don’t have many friends, so it doesn’t take much to keep him on the hook. He’s patched with the Aryan Brothers, but I don’t think they take him too seriously. But they do like their guns.”

“Yeah, and according to the file our friend Holmes wasn’t into selling them much.”

“Bad for business. If they go shoot up a synagog or something and it tracks back to good ol’ Earl he gets shut down by the Feds real quick.” Stan chuckled. “Of course he did get shut down by the Feds, but not because of Skaggs and his moron bros.”

“Let me know when you’re good to go and we’ll brief the captain.”

“You guys have any luck last night?”

“Naw. Not as much as I’d like. We got one guy sort of flopping on the line, but it ain’t like the old days.” He grinned. “Tonight maybe we’ll just sit back and let them come to us.”

“Why not? Burnett comes up in chatter now and then, you know. He’s got quite a rep. You might catch a few fish just by being available.”

Nodding, Sonny slapped Stan on the arm, surprised as usual by the muscle he felt there. Stan was a great example of looks being deceiving. He looked big and slow, but he could put a serious hurt on someone if he got annoyed enough. “I’ll be in the office if anyone needs me.”

[mjcmmv]

Tough watching Sonny and Rico struggle with the "new world". It will be interesting to see how they get involved again. 

And Stan's got something going! 

This will be good!