Breaking Point Part IV

[Robbie C.]

They went through it all again the next morning. “Trudy ran the kid and he does come back as some second cousin of the Mendozas.” Sonny nodded in Trudy’s direction. “He was a small-time runner for them back in ’89 and ’90, and then went quiet about the time we, I mean OCB, took them down. DEA picked up his trail a time or two in Columbia, but he stayed small time.”

Tubbs shifted in his chair. “But he was claiming he had access to a good source of coke. But he couldn’t get it in. The names he gave us check out. All players trying to move to the next level. Sonny and I will run them down today.”

Castillo looked up. “Stay on it. Where are we with Skaggs?”

Sonny was half-listening as Stan went through his briefing. He knew the big sergeant would have a solid plan, so he wasn’t too worried about checking it over. Instead, his mind kept circling back to the night before. How could they have only roped in a small-time punk like Pancho? Not too long back they would have been fighting off thirty key deals left and right. Had times changed that much, or was there something to what Carrera had been whining about?

Giving up, he tuned back in on Stan’s briefing. “We’ll have the Roach Coach close enough to hear, but not be seen. Dave already checked out the area and found three or four places he can set up and cover us from if things go sideways.” Stan grinned. “Long range fire will give us enough time to break contact or finish things depending on the situation.”

“Good. I want to wrap these people up. What’s the plan for the proposed buy?”

Randy spoke up. “M-16s and maybe some Berettas. Be nice to know how deep they can go with military hardware. If they can’t swing that we’ll go for any automatic weapons.”

Sonny looked up. “You can always toss Burnett’s name out if you need to see how many guns they can get.”

“Yeah. We know a guy.” Stan chuckled. “We may do that depending on how it all feels. Skaggs ain’t the sort who gives you a warm fuzzy about something he sets up.”

Back in their office, Sonny looked at Rico. “How the hell is it we only come back with some little boot-wearing punk?”

“I been asking myself that ever since last night.” Rico shook his head. “We wren’t gone that long.”

“Yeah, but you know how fast the game changes.”

“Yeah, yeah. ‘You can’t tell the players without a score card.’ I remember you telling me that years ago.” Rico’s laugh was more forced this time. “But this time it’s not just the players, Sonny. It’s the whole game. That bust Switek’s working? Back when we first partnered up it would have been for a few pistols. Hell, we damned near wet our pants over those Ingrams Evan was messin’ with. Now? Stan’s trying to buy M-16s and we trip over UZIs and Tech-9s every damned day.”

“I know, man. And the crack? Hell, I still can’t get my head around that. But at least we got two leads to work. And I gotta ride Burnett into the sunset. No way I can start a new cover now.”

“That’s the other part, Sonny. Cameras are gettin’ smaller. They’ll be in phones soon. We need those informants more than ever, ‘cause we won’t be able to work undercover like we used to without being blown.”

“Now that’s a scary thought, Rico. Hell, it gets to that point maybe we should cash in our chips and really retire.” Sonny chuckled, but the thought stuck in the back of his mind. Maybe Rico was right. “Still, we gotta run those damned names down in case good ol’ Pancho decides to check our work. And don’t think I’ve forgotten about that punk Carrera.”

 

Colonel Rodrigo Delacruz finished reading the last page of the report. “You’ve confirmed the targets, Captain?”

Eduardo Salazar nodded. “Si, jefe. At least twice as per protocol. They are what the Americans might call ‘small time,’ but they are starting to move up. Our people approached them about taking the proper precautions to move their product, and they told us to piss off.”

“And they still live because…”

“Lieutenant Orozco wanted to track them to El Notre and get a feel for their network there. Following them was a simple matter, and that’s why Corporal Hildago’s team remains in place.”

“And what does this plan accomplish?”

“It sends the message you requested. And it leaves just enough members of the target network in place that it can be operated by Hidalgo and his team.” Salazar smiled. “The ones we leave alive will be the illegals in the group. They understand the power of Ocho. They will not fight back.”

“So you take out the ones who have become like Americans and leave pliant peasants in place? A good place.” He flipped the report over. “And what of our intelligence gathering?”

Salazar shrugged. “It’s hard with no real resources in El Notre, sir. But I have become aware of a man who travels from Miami to Peru on a regular basis. He serves as something of a buyer for one of the growing trafficking rings in Miami. I’ve been able to monitor his communications on at least three occasions when he’s been in Peru. He may have information we could use. And his disappearance would send a message to his organization.”

“Take him.” Rodrigo turned to look out the window. “A few sessions with Sergeant Major Pascal should loosen his tongue.”

“And the Miami operation?”

“Of course. Tell Hidalgo to carry it out as soon as it’s convenient.”

Once Salazar left, Rodrigo turned back to his desk and looked at the stack of reports piled neatly on the right hand corner. They told the tale of how his men had slowed the flow of drugs from the region to a crawl. All it took was an application of the methods he was about to debut in Miami. His men were successful because they were the perfect combination of viciousness and precision. More lessons learned the hard way in the mountain villages. If you wanted to terrorize a village, kill the elders. Break up a terrorist unit? Set their commander on fire. Once they feared you all else would follow.

The reports also told the tale of the money they were taking in. More and more each day. For drugs to move they paid a tax directly to El Unidad. No tax, the boats exploded. Or your pilots were hacked to pieces and their body parts arranged in a figure 8 on the black deck. But if you paid, Unit 8 kept your rivals away from your trucks and boats, greasing the wheels until the shipment drew close to El Notre and their reach ended. Until now.

Without looking he reached out and picked up the telephone receiver and punched a number. “Sergeant Major? Excellent. You’ll have a visitor soon. Be sure to make him comfortable. The captain will give you a list of questions we require answers to, and your guest will have them….No, dispose of him in the usual way. The only message with this one is his disappearance.”

 

It was a few minutes before nine when Stan and Randy pulled their Harleys into the derelict gas station. Shutting off the ignition, Stan let his eyes grow used to the darkness, hearing the ticking of the big V-twin engines as they cooled in the humid air. With the thumping exhaust gone, he could hear bugs chattering and buzzing, reclaiming their place.

Randy leaned over the handlebars of his bike and looked over at Stan. “You think this punk’s gonna show?”

“I’d bet on it. He doesn’t want to look like a bigger pussy than he already does. What I wanna know is how many guys he’s bringing to the dance.”

Lester’s voice crackled in his ear. “Eye in the sky says four bikes, guys. Not coming from town, either.”

Stan nodded to Randy. “Copy that, Roach.” He chuckled. “Guess that answers your question.” Reaching up, he pulled out the small earphone and tucked it in his jacket pocket. “We’re going deaf now, Roach,” he said into the watch microphone, hearing the thump of bike exhaust coming closer with every passing heartbeat.

Headlights played over them as four big bikes swung off the main road and onto the cracking concrete pad surrounding the derelict pumps. The bikes were a mix of off-the-shelf ‘cool’ Harleys and custom jobs. The last one in sported a serious pair of ape-hanger handlebars reminding Stan of something from Easy Rider. Squinting to keep the light from ruining all of his night vision, he waved his hand and snarled, “Cut the damned light show, Skaggs. No call to advertise we’re here.”

Skaggs’ laugh was more of a bark as he shut down his bike. “Chill out, Biggs. Any pigs show we got plenty to greet ‘em with.”

“Maybe your idea of fun is to be someone’s cell bitch. It ain’t mine.” Stan let the words sink in for a second. “These the guys you were talking about?”

The one on the bike with the ape-hangers nodded. “Yeah. We’re the guys.”

“I’m Biggs. That’s Patch.”

“Call me Rusty.” The speaker pulled off his Nazi helmet, showing a shock of red hair. “The ugly one who ain’t Skaggs is called Mutt, and my boy over there is Hector.”

“I hear you needed to see us before we did business.”

“Skaggs does talk, don’t he?” Rusty shot a glare in the man’s direction. “Yeah. Gotta make sure you’re the right kind of people.”

Randy hawked and spat on the concrete. “We’re the only kind of people who matter.”

“Amen to that. But you never know. And what kind of businessman would you think I was if I took Skaggs’ word?”

“Good point.” Stan grinned as Skaggs squirmed on the seat of his bike. “Just so things ain’t confused, we’re down from the Panhandle. That’s our normal turf. Got us some issues with some boys back that way and need to up our firepower a bit.”

Randy nodded. “Learned the trade from Uncle Sam, so I’m a bit partial to his tools. Those damned pissants have them little, what are they? Tech-9s. Yeah. Hate those damned little popguns. Only thing they got goin’ for ‘em is rock and roll.”

“And no one up there can oblige?”

“See, that’s where it gets tricky. The boys with the guns in that neck of the woods ain’t the right kind of people. Cubans. Some of them other bean-eaters.” Stan snorted. “Hell, I can’t tell ‘em apart. But they got a deadlock on the business up there and I like spending my money with the right kind of folks.”

Mutt grinned, showing gaps where at least two teeth should have been. “Long drive just for that.”

“Hell, we like ridin’. Besides, got some other business down here.” Stan set his jaw. “But I figure that ain’t really your business, is it?”

Hector laughed. “Don’t mind Mutt, gents. We don’t.” From the way the three shifted, Stan realized Hector was the one calling the plays. Rusty was his front man. “He ain’t much in polite company.”

Rusty nodded, trying to keep the game going. “So you look good, but we might have to make a couple of calls.”

“Bigger question is can you get what we need? If not, don’t waste your time or ours.” Randy grinned over at Stan. “Ain’t that right, Biggs?”

“Man’s got a point.”

“So what’s your pleasure?” Rusty kept up the act, but Stan could see Hector leaning in a bit so he could hear better.

“Like the man said, we learned our trade from Uncle Sam. Why they kicked the good ol’ 1911 to the curb I’ll never know, but we need either them or those new Berettas. And some M-16s would look real good sorting out the boys back in the Panhandle. And before you say anything, if we wanted Mini-14s we would have had some punk do a straw buy for us.”

Rusty shot a quick glance at Hector while he was pretending to look around. “Military grade? We might be able to accommodate.”

“Might ain’t good enough.” Stan started to turn the key in the bike’s ignition. “Been nice.”

“Hold on!” Stan had seen Hector’s slight nod just before Rusty did. “We’d have to make calls on that, but we can get M-16s. Real M-16s, not those semi-auto AR-15s some punks are tryin’ to pass off. And Berettas, too. No Colts, though. Damned Feds stashed those but good or sold ‘em to bean-eaters overseas.”

“How much?”

“How many do you need?”

Stan looked at Randy. “Ten M-16s and at least that many M-9s.” The former scout-sniper smiled. “We got friends who want to help put things right.”

“You cool with meeting up with Skaggs again?”

“If I have to.” Stan chuckled.

“We’ll make those calls. If you check out we’ll talk price.”

Stan nodded. “Fair enough. Skaggs, be at Bomber’s between eight and nine every night this week. But when this deal goes, we say when and where.”

“You seem damned sure you’ll check out.”

“Hell, I know we will. And we’ll make a few calls about you boys, too. You’d better check out if you want to see any green.” Stan fired up his bike, echoed a second later by Randy’s turning over. “Look forward to doing business with you,” he shouted as they turned their bikes toward Miami and roared off into the darkness.

They were back in the underground garage before the two men could speak again. “That went well,” Randy said with a smile.

“Yeah. Did you notice Hector is the one calling the shots?”

“How could you tell?”

“Rusty kept looking back at him for cues. It wasn’t much, but just enough so you could tell. I picked up on it once Mutt opened his mouth and Hector shut him down.”

“Good eye, sarge.”

“Naw. I’ve just been around morons like that for too long. They always think they’re being smart by shoving someone else up to do the talking. Good thing we got out cover backstopped by the State Police and a few other people.”

“Yeah. I think they’ll get whatever answers they think they need.” Randy shrugged off his jacket. “And I don’t know about you, but I could go for a beer.”

“Yeah. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll call Gina to pick us up. We can get a start on the reports and then have someone who can pour us through the mail slot at home.” Stan grinned. “That and she had some meetings with her people and Caitlin’s House. I’d kinda like to know how they went.”

“Hard to image the boss running something like that.”

Stan showed a thin smile. “He wouldn’t have four years ago. He’s changed quite a bit, Randy. Sonny Crockett used to be the biggest damned cowboy in the department. Didn’t care who he burned to make a case. Yeah,” he repeated, flashing back to Larry dead in the gym shower. “He’s changed a lot. If you told me then what he’s doing now I never would have believed you.”

 

Rico hung up the phone with a grimace. “That’s the last of Pancho’s damned ‘references.’ Another chump confirming that a guy is chump when we already know he’s a chump.”

Sonny chuckled. They were still in the office even though it was dark out. Stan’s magic phone let them place calls from what looked like ten different locations in Miami, and it was perfect for the kind of checks they were doing. If anyone looked, Rico had just called from a payphone outside Rumours, and Sonny’s call had been from a payphone at the airport. And they even came with the right background noises. “I still need to buy those two dinner or something for this phone setup.”

“Yeah. Without the wonder twins we’d be screwed.” Rico leaned back in his chair, and Sonny could see what he called Rico’s philosopher face slip on. “Maybe we’re fashionably-dressed dinosaurs. Or at least I’m fashionably dressed.”

“Naw. You still need cops on the street making the buys and busting the bad guys. Where do you think Stan is right now? He’s out playing biker to make an old-school bust.”

“And we’re in here playing with the phone.”

“Yeah. I don’t pretend to understand it, Rico. But hell, man, even with those little cameras or whatever you were talkin’ about, they still have to have cops who can spot the players. We can do that. Hell, we’re good at it. We picked those bozos in the boots out last night before Pancho even made his move.”

“Yeah. Maybe it’s time for Teddy Prentiss to make a comeback. If the big flow’s shut down…”

“Aim for the smaller fish and see where they lead. Prentiss isn’t a local, but he can vibe with these boys better than an uptight New Yorker. And Burnett? He’s almost an institution. They expect to see him around deals.”

“Yeah, and like we saw with Pancho they’ll come to Burnett to try to up their status.” Rico looked around. “Are we the only ones left?”

“Yeah. Castillo and Trudy took off an hour or so ago. Mindy bailed just before them. And Team Elvis…”

“Is out being Team Elvis. If you got nothing planned, I’m gonna head out. See if Mindy’s got any dinner plans…or maybe dessert.”

“Yeah, I’m heading out, too. Jenny had another meeting about Caitlin’s House with some people from Gina’s office. She’ll want to tell me how that went.”

Driving back to the marina, Sonny found himself turning the idea of Caitlin’s House over in his head. At the time it had just seemed like a way to put his late wife’s money and legacy to good use; to try to turn her murder into a chance for girls who’d had nothing. But over time he’d found himself starting to get more and more interested in it as a reality instead of just an idea he could hand off to someone else.

Jenny was waiting for him on the stern deck of Tranquility. He guessed she must have gotten back from the meeting only a short time before, because she was still wearing a black pencil skirt and white silk blouse. Looking out, she smiled when she saw him. “I didn’t expect you back until later.”

“Yeah, Rico and I decided to call it quits early. No clubs tonight.” He climbed aboard and took her in his arms. “How was the meeting?”

“Good. I think we’ll be ready to house the first girls next week.”

“Really? That’s amazing.”

“Gina and her unit are really behind this. And Angie did a great job with the hiring.” She smiled. “I just sat and watched.”

“I doubt that. But you feel good about everyone Angie hired?”

“Yes.” She smiled her soft smile. “No one felt bad to me. And I think Stan checked them all out.”

“So that’s what he was doing the other night. Good on him.”

“Gina didn’t want him to. Something about using computers or something.” She smiled again. “I didn’t pay much attention.”

“If anyone complains they can come to me. It’s all legit. But next time tell Angie to have HR at the House route the list to me. They put it in as a request I can run it. You have to verify medical personnel.” He smiled. “It’s all complicated. Nothing you need to worry about.”

“But I do.” She sat back on the cushions. “I want this to be a success. For her. And for you.” She blinked, and he realized she was starting to cry. “And for Will.”

He sat down next to her, his arm sliding around her and feeling her pressing against him. “I know, baby. I want that, too. I know Cait would really appreciate all the work you’re doing.”

“She does.”

Sonny just nodded. He never tried to figure out what Jenny meant when she said things like that. It was just part of who she was, and a part he loved without trying to understand it. He kissed the top of her head. “So next week? How many girls?”

“Three to start. We think. Angie and I are going to go over the admittance criteria with Gina tomorrow. So many of her girls applied. It’s scary. They have no place else to go.”

“Yeah, but you gotta start with the ones with the best chance. Let the staff get confident, and show the idea can work. Get the easy wins and move on to the harder stuff once the bugs are worked out.” Sonny smiled and squeezed her shoulder. “It’s tough, and you don’t help everyone you want to, but it’s the best way to build up.”

“I know. It’s just…harder than I thought reading those stories. Seeing the pictures. I don’t know how you do it every day.”

“Coming home to you makes it all worth it.” Reaching down, he turned her head toward him and kissed her. “Let’s go below and I’ll make us dinner.”

 

People here knew him as Ricky Ruiz, a nice enough kid who scraped by and looked after his younger brother Mateo. It was a useful enough cover, especially since Mateo, otherwise known as Private Javier Cruces, was mute and couldn’t speak. Javier’s English wasn’t very good, and this way he never had to say anything. Corporal Lopez Hidalgo planned it that way.

Like most of the men in Unit 8 he’d been trained in part by Americans. But unlike most he’d been selected for special advanced training. A handful of them flew from the School of the Americas to a compound in Kentucky where they trained in espionage techniques under the watchful eyes of men they assumed were CIA. Veterans of Vietnam, the older Gringos trained them well, getting them ready to infiltrate Communist terrorist groups and drug gangs alike. And maybe even their own government…the older men with strange scars and hooded eyes always stressed loyalty to their commanders as a cardinal virtue.

Hidalgo excelled, graduating at the top of his class and returning home with a set of skills his commanders appreciated and rewarded. Raised in a city, he moved easily in any social setting and had an ear for languages. After a series of successful operations against narcos and two Shining Path cells, the colonel himself called him in and said he was going on a mission to the promised land. El Notre.

Hidalgo still smiled when he thought of those early trips. He’d just been testing things; his false papers, his accent, how he’d move and disappear in places like Miami or Dallas. Then he’d go home, smile and play the part of a rich man from El Notre looking for a quick deal. He’d drawn more than his share of dumb narcos into the crosshairs of El Unidad’s snipers.

Of course he’d come along when the government turned its back on its most loyal servants and saviors. What man of honor wouldn’t? They’d given up everything to secure the future of their nation, only to have a bunch of elected buffoons piss all over it trying to buy votes from peasants who didn’t even know what century it was. And if the colonel said what the men in office did was wrong, who was Hidalgo to argue? Not that he would. He’d lost friends to the scum the new politicians wanted to placate.

Javier touched his arm, bringing his focus back to the present. Though the powerful night binoculars he could see the outline of a boat as it cruised into the narrow waterway. “Make it like Los Plassos,” the captain’s orders said, and Hidalgo knew exactly what the man meant. A message unmistakable to those who knew of El Unidad. He watched as the pilot cut power, easing the boat up to a dock sagging into the murky water.

Hidalgo chuckled. The dock wasn’t in any danger of collapsing. He’d reconed it earlier in the day and found it had been reinforced and constructed so it looked weak but was actually strong enough to hold a car. The narcos always through they were so clever. Looking over at Javier, he nodded and raised his own suppressed M-16. Four men on the boat, four on the dock. It was the magic number.

Flicking the selector from ‘safe’ to ‘full auto,’ Hidalgo raised three fingers and lowered each until he made a fist. They were perhaps thirty meters from the dock, invisible in dark fatigues and the high grass waving near the water and just high enough to have a perfect view. When his fist dropped, Javier opened fire and he followed suit less than a second later. The suppressors hid the muzzle flash and reduced the bark of the M-16s to coughing pops. Each man fired the tight, controlled bursts of trained soldiers experienced in their craft, Javier taking the men on the boat and Hidalgo dropping the ones on the dock. It was over in perhaps two seconds. He figured they’d each only missed once or twice. Not bad for shooting in the dark.

Hidalgo watched for a few moments, making sure no one was still moving, and the ficked on the rifle’s safety. Nodding, he turned to Javier. “It’s time to recreate Los Plassos. The bodies can go in the water.”

 

Sonny was in early the next morning, but still not before the two Castillos. He smiled when he thought about it. It was still a bit of a jolt, thinking of Trudy as Trudy Castillo and not Trudy Joplin. He found a copy of Stan’s draft report in his basket and started flipping through it, curious to see how the meeting had gone. The big guy was solid undercover, and he and Randy made a great team in the right circles. It was something OCB had never done, but now he couldn’t imagine working without it. And as the game changed he figured they’d be more and more necessary. Cliff had been a vision of things to come.

He was almost done when Castillo’s voice echoed from the conference room. “All hands.”

Rico and Mindy had just come in, and they took their usual seats. Stan and his crew followed suit, Lester sitting close to Stan and Dave and Randy holding down the far end of the table. Trudy settled in next to Mindy, and Sonny took his habitual seat across from Tubbs. “What’s the excitement, captain?”

“I just got a call from Chief Deputy Washington. There’s a situation down by Bayside he wants us to take a look at. Metro-Dade’s already on scene, and it looks to be Homicide’s case.”

“What’s it about?” Sonny looked over at Rico and shrugged. “If they’re already tromping around what good are we gonna do?”

“He didn’t say.”

Rico cleared his throat. “He give you any idea what this situation was?”

“Only that he’d never heard of anything like it before in Miami.”

Sonny chuckled. “Well, I guess Rico and I can drive on over and see what Metro-Dade’s about to screw up this time.” He looked over at Stan. “Good report from last night, Stan. How long you gonna make ‘em wait?”

“A day or two. We got some calls to make and I want to see if they sweat about it or not.”

“Nice. Come on, Rico. Let’s go see what the fuss is about.”

The patrol sergeant who passed them under the yellow tape was pale under his cap. “I heard you two got promoted. And some special duty. Must be sweet.” He stepped around a younger cop who was busy losing his breakfast and coffee all over a shrub. “I been on the job fifteen years and I never seen anything like this.”

Sonny adjusted his Ray Bans. “It can’t be that bad, sarge.”

“See for yourself.” The thickset man waved toward a candy red go-fast boat tied to a small dock and wrapped in enough police tape it almost looked yellow. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rico chuckled and bopped a couple of steps forward. Then he stopped. “What the hell…”

“Aw come on, Rico. It can’t…” Then Sonny saw what his partner had seen and stopped dead in his tracks.

The boat bobbed up and down in the slight current, not noticing the men moving around on the dock or the rapid pops of flash guns as forensics took pictures. But Sonny’s gaze froze on what Rico must have seen. Heads. Just heads. No bodies. Not even parts of bodies. Just heads. Arranged in the boat so their dead, glazed eyes all looked toward shore. His head spun, and he felt his stomach give a little kick. He’d heard stories about CAP Marines finding villages where the VC had cut the heads off the elders, leaving them in piles outside the huts, but he’d never really believed anyone could do that. Until now.

Rico’s voice was a whisper. “How many?”

“Eight.” The man who answered wore a dark suit and had his badge clipped to his breast pocket. “There’s eight of ‘em. And not a trace of a body. There’s a few bullet holes in the boat, and we got forensics checking that now. But someone hacked those heads off and lined ‘em up there and then sent the damned boat right here.”

Sonny stuck out his hand. “Crockett and Tubbs. Lieutenants on loan to the Marshals. Our boss told us to come by and have a look.”

“Baker. Homicide. You boys taking this?”

“Not that I know of. We’ve got a couple of cases going and I think they wanted us to see if there was any connection.”

“Well, those boys aren’t connected to anything now.” Baker forced a dry laugh from somewhere in his chest, and Sonny could see the deadness in his eyes that came from seeing too much too often. “My partner’s over there, losing the rest of her breakfast.” He shook his head. “She’s new.”

“Yeah, and this ain’t an easy thing to see.” Try as he might, Sonny couldn’t tear his eyes away from the heads. “I know it’s early, but any IDs?”

“We checked their pockets. Nothing.” The dry laugh came again. “Not sure what we’ll get on them. One or two look familiar, but I’d guess Narcotics or OCB might be able to spot a couple of old friends out there. We’ll be sending pictures to them.”

Rico swallowed. “Can we get on that list?”

“Sure. Might be a day or so while they wade through the mess. We’d hoped to keep it out of the papers for a bit, but judging from the sharks over there it ain’t gonna happen.” Baker jerked his thumb toward a knot of popping flashes and figures just beyond the tape waving their hands and shouting questions. He shook his head. “I know dealers like bumping each other off, but this is something different. I just hope whoever did it don’t make a habit of it. I got enough cases on my desk already.”

Sonny nodded toward the boat. “Mind if we…”

“Knock yourselves out. I’m gonna go try to fend off the buzzards.”

Rico looked at Sonny as soon as Baker wandered out of earshot. “You ain’t seriously going down there?”

“Not on the boat, but there’s something…I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Sick is what it is.”

“Yeah, but there’s something more. Someone planned this, Rico. If you kill a rival crew you just dump ‘em in deep water and take the boat. Someone went to a bit of trouble to do this.”

“Yeah. Like leaving a horse’s head in some fool’s bed. But why that many?”

“I don’t know. But I think we’ve done what we were sent to do. Let’s get back and maybe we can figure some more out once we get the pictures.”

[mjcmmv]

Moving along really well. They'er up against some vicious psycho's this time! 

[Robbie C.]

Thanks. Like I said, it's what they would have faced as the whole game changed in the '90s. And I do like the Mirror Image idea.

[Matt5]

Thankyou a great piece.

[Matt5]

Great attention to detail @Robbie C.