Breaking Point Part VIII

[Robbie C.]

Captain Eduardo Salazar looked around the apartment and sighed. It wasn’t much, but that was its advantage. Let the stupid Columbians live it up and draw attention. El Unidad would be different, drawing attention not by how they lived but by how their targets died.

Since arriving in El Notre he’d set up one room of the four room apartment as a communications center. There was nothing he could do about the phones, but his radio equipment had been arriving in bits and pieces and was almost ready to go into operation. The two operators, Felix and Antonio, were in place as well.

Salazar smiled. Already they’d started plotting the frequencies used by the local policia and some Federal agencies as well. The FBI hadn’t bothered to change their frequencies since his men had trained with them in Quantico, and he silently thanked them for their laziness. DEA would be harder, but Felix had trained with them back home and was confident he could get it down. ATF wasn’t worth the trouble, but he told them to scan just the same to see if they could crack that nut, too.

Antonio walked into the room with a smile on his face. “Boss, you should see what these fools sell in shops! I got everything we needed at this place called Radio Shack. I’ll let the boys back home know to stop the next shipment. I even found some things we didn’t have back with El Unidad. Give me a week and I will have this town mapped as far as law enforcement signals go.”

“All good. But don’t forget the jefe wants this phantom unit. Proof it either exists or does not. And coordinate with Corporal Hidalgo as well. Eyes are as important as ears.”

“Si, boss. He should be back any minute.”

Salazar sighed. “Send him to me when he arrives. We need a ground surveillance plan.” In so many ways he felt blind here. Back home, you could count on a frightened peasant or cowed narco to let you know what was going on. Here…things were different. He needed to know who might have heard of El Unidad and might be of use to them. The boat should have been a clear message they were in business, but he might need to send a reminder.

At least things were sorted out back home when he left. The drugs the damned Gringos wanted so badly were starting to flow again, meaning this phantom unit might raise its head again. He admired the colonel’s drive and tenacity, but there were times he wished the man were a bit more flexible. They could make millions just sitting on the southern end of the pipeline. Why come north? The operational environment was much harder, and he wasn’t sure the rewards were great enough to offset the risk. But it wasn’t his place to question Colonel Delacruz. That he understood very well.

When Hidalgo came in he was ready. “Report, corporal.”

“Private Cruces and I have made contact with two runners who know of El Unidad, or Ocho as they call us. They’re scared. They knew exactly what the boat went and are jumping at their own shadows. One of them might have lost a brother in one of our Columbian actions.” Hidalgo grinned. “I didn’t care to check, but he’s especially fearful. And they both talk.”

“Good. Use them as eyes.”

“Of course, boss. Do we let them know we are from El Unidad?”

“Not directly. But if they begin to loose focus, kill the one who is less afraid. In front of the other one.”

“Si. That should settle in his mind the question of who were are.” Hidalgo smiled again. “I did the same thing back in Resaca with great success.”

Salazar nodded. He remembered Resaca; a little village in the mountains with a guerrilla problem. At least until Unit 8 arrived on the scene. Hidalgo had been one of the small advance team sent to prepare for their arrival. They were greeted by a totally cowed peasant population and eight heads on posts on the road leading into the village. Hidalgo shrugged when Sergeant Major Pascal asked about them and said the people had needed a lesson in obedience. He also said four of the heads were guerrillas.

But it was also at Resaca that a little voice started whispering in the back of his mind that maybe they’d gone too far. It was just a whisper, often drowned out by the whirr of the machines counting the money they’d made after leaving government control. But it never quite went away.

Shaking his head, he banished the whisper. “Get to work, corporal. I want a better operating picture before I send the first report to the boss.” From what he’d seen so far, Miami was open for the taking for a group like El Unidad. The traffickers here were fat, lazy, and didn’t know fear. He knew how to change that.

 

They were about a mile from the warehouse when Stan pulled over to run a final radio check. The heavy overcast threatened rain, and he hoped it held off until they were done with the deal.

The truck’s big V-8 thumped under the hood, and he grinned over at Randy. “Can you believe Crockett didn’t want this ride?”

“He don’t get some things, sarge. A good truck is one of ‘em.” Randy retuned the grin, his arm resting on the doorframe. “And I got ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ ready to roll as soon as we get close. Gotta keep that image up.”

Nodding, Stan raised his wrist. “Position check.”

Lester’s voice came through first. “Good.”

Brick followed. “Good.”

Then Castillo’s clipped tones came over the radio. “Execute on my authority. Good luck.”

Stan pulled the earpiece out and dropped the truck back into gear. He hated going in deaf, but there wasn’t much option. Reaching under his jacket he felt for the butt of his Browning, seeing Randy doing the same with his custom .45 out of the corner of his eye. “Let’s go to work.”

It was just before midnight when they rolled onto the cracking concrete pad in front of the old warehouse. Stan blinked the headlights and nodded as an answering flash came from inside. Cutting the engine he jumped out of the cab. “Skaggs! Where the hell are you?”

“We left that limp-wrist back at the bar.” Rusty sauntered into the open, followed closely by Hector. Like he’s got his hand up Rusty’s ass making him talk Stan thought with a grin. “We don’t need some punk to do our deals.”

“Neither do we.” Randy came around the side of the truck. “You got the hardware?”

“If you got the cash.”

“Damned straight. But I wanna make sure we’re gettin’ the real thing and not some damned knock-off.”

“Yep.” Rusty snapped his fingers and Mutt came out of the dark warehouse with two M-16s. He was carrying them with the handles, and the magazine wells were empty. “Have a look-see and then I’ll give you a mag each so you can test ‘em.”

Randy snatched up one of the rifles with a practiced grab and tossed it to Stan, taking the other one and giving it a thorough inspection. Stan followed suit, although he left the serious work to Randy. He ran the bolt, tested the hold-open, and worked the selector through all three positions to make sure nothing was blocked.

There was a click as Randy dry-fired his M-16. “Give me a mag.”

Reaching into his jacket, Rusty pulled out a box magazine and tossed it over. “Only ten rounds,” he said. “No reason to get crazy.”

“Nope.” Randy slammed the magazine home, pulled back to the operating handle, and shouldered the rifle. One shot cracked off, and then he flipped the selector and sent the other nine into the dirt embankment on the far side of the lot. “Good,” he said as he lowered the smoking rifle. “Give yours a test, Biggs.”

Stan nodded, repeating the actions Randy had just completed. He’d fired M-16s a few times on the range, and could at least do the basics without hurting himself or looking like an ass. Once he fired off his ten he lowered the rifle. “We’ll take ‘em. You got the Berettas, too?”

Mutt turned and ambled back into the darkness, returning with two wooden crates. “Right here,” he announced, setting them on the ground.

Nodding, Randy turned back to the truck and pulled out a gym bag with the Harley logo stitched on the side. “It’s all there. Fifty-four grand. Ten each for the Mattel wonders and four total for the ten Berettas.”

Rusty nodded, looking back at Hector for a moment. “Cool. You an’ me will count. Biggs, you wanna help Mutt an’ Hector with the guns?”

“Sure.” Stan handed his M-16 to Randy and started for the warehouse. Hector and Mutt had already moved, and came out lugging a long wooden crate.

Hector looked up. “Five in this one, three and the two you boys have in the other. The Berettas are all in ones Mutt dropped.”

“Cool. I’ll grab them if you two don’t mind lugging the 16s?”

“All good, bro. Say, you think you’ll be needin’ more American-made firepower up in the Panhandle?”

“Could be. So long’s it’s American-made.”

“More where this came from, bro.”

Randy looked up as soon as Rusty finished counting the last bundle of bills. “Well give my regards to Uncle Sam. This stuff’s top shelf.”

Not ten seconds later figures materialized from the darkness, their faces obscured by the monoculars of night vision gear. There were ten of them, big forms in black fatigues carrying black carbines and shotguns. Their flack vests had ATF stenciled on them in yellow, and the first man’s voice was a boom. “ATF! Show me your hands. NOW, assholes!”

Stan raised his hands and glared over at Hector. “It had to have been that bitch Skaggs. An’ you didn’t bring him along.”

Tiny loomed out of the darkness, his big hand driving Stan to his knees with just enough force to make it look real. “Well, well. Biggs. We been lookin’ for you, asshole.”

“So’s your old lady.” Stan grunted for effect as the shotgun came around and just missed his head.

“You won’t be laughing when you’re doing Federal time. Asshole.” Tiny was fighting back a smile as he slapped on the cuffs, and from the corner of his eye Stan could see another of the team doing to same to Randy.

There was a thud as Brick dropped Mutt with a well-placed MP-5 buttstroke and cuffed the stunned man. “Anyone else gonna get cute? Didn’t think so.” He raised a tactical radio. “Scene secure. Bring in the transports and forensics. We got a good one.”

Tiny herded Randy and Stan away from the others. “Biggs and Patch. You got some FBI warrants. Bank robbin’ bad asses. They want to talk to you. I’ll bring these two on ahead.”

Brick nodded. “Copy that. Take the first transport. We’ll sit on these assholes.”

Once they were in the dark van, Tiny undid the cuffs. “Sorry if they were a bit tight.”

Stan laughed. “No worries. You had to sell the role. And you did damned good.”

Randy rubbed his wrists and grinned. “Shame about Skaggs. They’re gonna chop him into little bits.”

Tiny shook his head. “Naw. The captain had him picked up right before you rolled into that warehouse. You boys want to head back to the task force office?”

“Yeah. Castillo’s gonna want to debrief right away.” Stan smiled again, looking out the back windows at the mile markers flashing by.

It was just before three when they all assembled at the conference table, just about everyone fighting off yawns. Stan looked around and cleared his throat. “I’ll make this quick. Everything went according to plan. We got ten M-16s and ten M-9s in that haul, and they all look to be US military issue. Trudy’s gonna run the numbers in the…I mean later this morning and see if we can figure out where they came from. Lester and I will get the tape ready for the AUSA, but it sounded like Hector could get more M-16s without much notice if someone needed them. Either than or he’s sitting on a bigger haul and is piecing it out.”

Castillo looked around the table and nodded. “Outstanding work, everyone. Tiny, convey my thanks to the rest of your team. I’ll write it up for the chief deputy later today. Now go home and get some sleep. We’ll start late tomorrow.”

Stan was still riding the adrenaline high when he pulled into the apartment complex parking lot, so he sat for a minute in the Caddy, listening to the engine tick as it cooled and feeling his heart rate drop back to normal. Busts were always a rush, even more when you were on the inside looking out. Brick’s team were pros. No question. He was just glad they were on his side.

Gina was still up, sitting on the couch with a three ring binder open on her lap. “You didn’t need to stay up, babe,” he said as he locked the door and shrugged out of his biker colors.

“No, but I wanted to. I don’t sleep well when you’re on one of these.” She smiled, and he saw the Caitlin’s House logo on the cover of the binder as she closed it and got to her feet. “Did Team Elvis score again?”

“Of course, darlin’,” he said in his best mush-mouth Elvis impersonation. “The King always scores.” Then he grinned. “Not a shot fired, either.” He nodded toward the binder. “Still getting ready?”

“Going through it one last time. We’re sending three girls there in the next couple of days and I wanted to be sure in my mind.”

“Yeah. With Sonny you just never know.” He raised his hand. “I know. He’s changed. But it’s old habits. I still find myself checking from time to time just to make sure stuff’s done. And that’s after I’ve seen him do it.”

“This is mostly Angie and Jenny, though.” Gina smiled. “Who would have thought Jenny would turn out to be some kind of financial wizard?”

“Or Angie.” Stan sat down on the couch, the post-rush crash washing over him. “To be honest, she still scares me.”

“Did you guys get that case with heads? It was all over the news.”

“Naw. The file got sent our way, but Homicide’s still screwing around with it. And I hope they keep it. That one’s just weirdsville as far as I’m concerned. Like that voodoo stuff we looked into a few years back.”

“Sanataria, Stan. Not voodoo.” She smiled and sat down next to him. “But I can see why it would remind you of that.” She rested her head against his shoulder, and then started slipping lower. “And speaking of voodoo.”

“You gonna put a spell on me?” He watched her head slip lower and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you are.”

 

Sonny looked in the mirror and wondered what the hell had happened. How things had changed so much in so short a time. Three years ago that same bust might have turned up some Mini-14s and cheap Llama semi-autos. But they’d hauled in U.S. military hardware last night. And not just one or two weapons.

He shifted a bit so he could see Jenny’s naked back in the mirror and smiled. It hadn’t all been bad. Castillo had given them a morning pass, and he’d spent most of it in bed with Jenny. Now it was time to go to work. There was the meeting to work out tonight with Garcia and maybe figuring out how to get back in contact with Carrera. And maybe figure out where the hell Pancho was hiding out.

Toweling his hair one last time, he pulled on a light coral Henley and tucked it into his gray linen slacks. It was Burnett lite today, and least until showtime at Electro. Slipping on the leather shoulder rig, he checked his Smith & Wesson before snapping it into the left side holster and stuffing two loaded magazines in their right side pouches. All that was left was a light pair of shoes and a gray blazer and he’d be ready to go.

Jenny pouted as she watched him dress. “Do you have to go in? It was so nice this morning I wanted to keep doing it all day.”

“Darlin’, I hate to say it but I do need recovery time.” He grinned. “That and Marty would kick my ass if I missed my own operational briefing.”

“Well…I don’t want you to get your ass kicked, so you can go. But you owe me.”

“And what exactly do I owe you?”

She got off the bed and sauntered over, her firm body on full display. Going on her tiptoes she whispered in his ear.

“You’re kidding.”

“No. That’s what you owe me.” She smiled and kissed him. “Maybe you’ll come home early.”

“If I can you bet I will.” He smiled, feeling his cheeks warming. “But it won’t be my fault if I’m late.”

“Then you might owe me that twice.” She giggled. “I’ll decide when you get home.”

Rico was already in the office when Sonny got there. “About time you showed up, partner.”

“Yeah, well…someone didn’t want me to leave.”

“Yeah, we didn’t want to, either. But duty calls and all that.” Rico chuckled. “And I don’t want Castillo showing up on my doorstep.”

“You and me both.” Sonny sat down with a groan. “Anything new on last night’s bust?”

“Stan’s finishing the paperwork, but it doesn’t sound like it. Those chumps ain’t talking, at least not about anything important. I’m staring to think they just lifted the goods from one of Homles’s stashes and went into business for themselves.”

“Could be. But we know that clown had at least two contacts that could get military hardware, and I think ATF only rolled up one of them.” Sonny shook his head. “But we gotta worry about Electro tonight. You got Teddy ready to roll?”

“Righteous, mon. You bet we ready to roll.” Rico grinned. “Mindy wanted to know if she was coming.”

“No objection from me, but you know how you like to have Teddy roll when he’s making deals.”

“Yeah. I ain’t made up my mind yet, honestly. It’s good, but at the same time Teddy does roll solo most times on deals. You bringing Peaches again?”

“Naw. I scared him once with Trudy. No reason to do it twice. That and Burnett’s mostly a solo act.” Sonny looked down at the folder on the desk, knowing Rico was watching him. But it was true. Burnett was a solo act. One that was damned close to the surface again. And he wasn’t sure why. But something about all this just didn’t feel right, and he knew Burnett’s thought processes might help him figure out what was bothering him about the whole situation. “You gonna bite if Garcia tosses a bone?”

“Depends on what it is and how big it is.” Rico scratched his chin. “You think he’d try to pop a deal tonight?”

“I don’t know. Things are off out there, partner.” Sonny absently flipped open the folder before he realized it was the photos of that damned go-fast with the heads. “Like this crap. I mean, who the hell does…” He paused, looking at the wide-angle photo again, but with Burnett’s eyes. The vicious eyes. “Rico, look at this, partner. What does it say to you?”

Rico came around the desk. “That some sharks ate damned well that night?”

“No, man. Look at it closer.”

“I just see eight heads, Sonny. And some sick chumps running around out there.”

“No…look past that. Look at how they’re arranged.”

Rico peered at the picture again and nodded. “Yeah…I see it now. Eight heads arranged in a figure eight. You think it means something?”

“Hell, it has to. They didn’t just fall that way. Someone took the time to set them up like that, and so they’re all looking in the same direction. This is a damned message of some kind.”

Castillo sat in silence as Sonny repeated his theory. “You think I’m full of crap, don’t you, Marty?”

“No. I think you’re right. How did we miss this?”

“We just saw the heads. Hell, I missed it just like everyone else. It was only when I looked at it…like Burnett…that I saw the eight.”

“Why him?”

“I don’t know. I just flipped the folder open and then my mind started asking questions. What did it mean? And that’s when Burnett gave me the answer. It had to be a message. And once I got that, I saw the eight. And it’s no accident.”

“Have you told Homicide?”

“No. I wanted to see if you thought I was crazy first.”

Castillo’s smile was thin. “Pass it along to them. Use your rank. It’s still their case, but that might give them something to work with. I hear they’re coming up empty otherwise.” He pushed the folder back across the desk. “What’s your plan for Garcia?”

“Rico’s going in as Teddy Prentiss, of course. We’ll have some small buy money in his car just in case we need it, but the plan’s not to complete a deal tonight. We might bring Deputy O’Laughlin along as cover and support, but that’s a call we’ll make as it gets closer to go time. I’ve already coordinated with Stan and Lester for comm support. Mather and Blair will be in the Roach Coach if we need firepower, but I’m not anticipating anything big out of this one.”

“Do you need his whole team?”

“No. We can get by easy with just Lester, or Stan if it’s his night. And if Mindy goes in with us we wouldn’t need Dave or Randy.” Sonny nodded. “Yeah, we need to start giving them some down time. I’ll let Stan know so he can work it out.”

“Good. You can brief me in the morning.”

Back in the main room, Sonny found Stan updating the tap map on the conference room wall. “Stan, we’ll just need comm coverage tonight. One guy in the Roach Coach if that works.”

“Yeah. I drew the short straw so it’s me tonight. You need anyone else from Team Elvis?”

“Naw. We might take Mindy in as Rico’s date. And besides it’s just Tony Garcia. We aren’t aiming for a buy tonight, just an introduction.”

It was just after ten when the big Caddy rolled into Electro’s parking lot. Sonny was settled in the wide back seat, enjoying watching Rico and Mindy settle into their roles. As usual Rico was decked out in a wild floral shirt and more gold chains than should be allowed by law, and Mindy had settled on a little black dress that started just above her nipples and ended just below the curve of her backside. He just hoped it would distract the doorman from her clutch, heavier than it should be due to the custom .45 tucked inside. Then he grinned. He’d just turn Burnett loose on the guy at the door if he got too nosey.

He was there, all right. Sonny had felt him bubbling up on the drive over, settling into the cold line of his jaw and the empty expression in eyes hidden behind dark Ray Bans. The Henley was gone, replaced at the office by a black button-up shirt that matched his black blazer. He found his eyes flicking from place to place, sizing up everyone and everything as a possible threat. It was time to go. “Let’s do this,” he said in a flat voice.

Rico nodded, taking Mindy’s arm and launching into Teddy patter. “Righteous, pretty lady! They got the beats here melt your heart, seen? We gonna get down tonight!”

The thug at the door started to move until he locked eyes with Sonny. “Good evening, Mr. Burnett. You all together?”

“What’s it look like?”

“Sorry, sir. Head on in. Have a good time.”

Once they were in, Mindy turned back. “You know him?”

“He loaded trucks back with the Manolo organization. Didn’t think the ape had that much memory.” Sonny kept his eyes moving, glad the glasses protected them from the bouncing strobes. “Our boy’s at the bar. Just past the waitress station.”

“Got him.” Rico pushed through the crowd, his shout audible over the thundering bass. “Tony! Mon!”

Garcia turned. “Teddy! What it is, bro! Let’s grab a table.” His expression changed as he spotted Sonny. “Mr. Burnett. Glad you could make it. She with you?”

“No. She’s Teddy’s girl. Let’s get this done.”

Looking through the swirling crowd and flashing lights, Sonny caught sight of a skinny little rat slipping out of a booth seconds before Garcia pointed. “This way. We’ll talk back here.” But he didn’t get the familiar sensation of spiders on the back of his neck. Instead it was a cold hand moving through his chest and touching his eyes. He followed Rico and Mindy, his hand shifting to it was close to his blazer button. Ready to go for the big .45 with a heartbeat’s notice.

As soon as they sat down, he turned his full Burnett look on Garcia. “Why don’t you have your buddy join us, Tony?”

“Who? I…”

“Don’t play stupid with me, Tony. You know better than that. I saw the little rat you had holding the table. Makes me wonder how many other little rats you got hiding in this dump. Just remember on thing…the rats jump, you’re the first one who goes down.”

Rico unleashed his booming Teddy laugh. “Tony! Why you do this thing, mon? Teddy’s cool. Teddy’s always cool. Ain’t that right, my beauty? An’ you know rattling Burnett’s cage isn’t the best way to live to a ripe old age, seen? So send your crew home, mon, an’ let’s talk business.”

Garcia swallowed several times, and for a moment Sonny thought the little punk might stroke out. Then he stood up and made a throat-cutting motion with his right hand. The rat from the booth peeled himself away from a dyed blonde almost wearing some kind of silvery dress and headed for the door. As he watched a second man did the same thing. “Ok, guys. That’s all of them. A guy can’t be too careful these days.”

“Just two? Jesus, Garcia. I’m almost insulted.” Sonny leaned back in the booth, his eyes still sweeping the crowd.

“Now was that so hard, mon? Now we get drinks an’ you tell me about the righteous deal you found for Teddy Prentiss.” Rico waved for a waitress, using a fifty to get the attention of at least two of them.

One side of Sonny’s mind was aware of Rico and Garcia making small talk while they waited for the drinks, but the other remained focused on Electro. It was hard not to, given the thunder of the bass through the club’s sound system, but he also wasn’t convinced Garcia had sent off all his men. Or people, for that matter. Who said the little bozo didn’t have a  woman or two on the payroll? He hadn’t been surprised by the idea of Burnett having a woman run his security, which hinted to Sonny he might be doing the same thing.

He brought his attention back once the drinks arrived and Rico got down to business. “You say you’d have something for Teddy. What you bring, mon?” Reaching over he gave Mindy a squeeze. “You see we have better things to do tonight, mon.”

Garcia nodded, his attention fixed on Mindy and what she was almost wearing. “That I can see, Teddy. She got a sister?”

Without thinking, Sonny’s hand flashed out. “Don’t disrespect the lady, Garcia.” His fingers locked around Garcia’s thumb and twisted, cranking his hand and arm around.

Garcia let out a sharp squeal. “Ok…ok…Burnett. Jesus!”

“Apologize to the lady.” Sonny didn’t let go of the thumb.

“Sorry…I meant no disrespect.”

“That’s better.” Sonny let go of his thumb, and grinned as Garcia started rubbing it and grimacing. “Now tell Teddy here what you brought him.”

“See…here’s the thing. It’s still jammed up down south. Getting better from what my people say, but that damned boat of heads put the wind up some of the dudes around here.”

“How’s that, mon? I hear it more about some old score.”

“I don’t know who you been talkin’ to, Teddy. But I hear it’s more than that.” Garcia quit rubbing his thumb. “It’s got some of the more dependable guys laying low.”

“Names, Garcia. Maybe I’ll go see if they’ll stick their heads up.”

“These are newer dudes, Burnett. Mostly from down south. Columbia, Peru. They came on the scene after you scaled back. I hear Moncado brought some of them up, and when he got greased they started running on their own. Nasty bastards some of ‘em. But not efficient. Not like you were. Anyhow, they all went to ground as soon as that boat floated in.”

“So they scared? That don’t help me with my needs, Tony.” Rico reached over and ran his hand along Mindy’s shoulder. “Now pretty lady here help with my needs, seen?”

She giggled and shifted on her seat. “You want me to hurt him, Teddy?”

Sonny almost laughed as Garcia’s eyes went wide. “No, pretty lady. Not yet. Teddy got business to do wit this mon.” Rico’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. “She looks after all my needs, seen?”

“Damn! Between her and Peaches I gotta be careful.” Garcia flashed an uneasy smile. “But I got a deal for you, Teddy. It ain’t huge, but it could lead to bigger things.”

“Righteous! Now you talkin’ my language, mon!”

“You’ll wanna be there too, Burnett. Unless you think you can fit twenty keys in your carry-on bag, Teddy.”

“I can run twenty in my sleep.” Sonny leaned back, still sweeping the crowd. “What’s the bigger thing?”

“Dude I’m talking about used to bring up eighty, one hundred keys at a go. Until things got tight down south. That gets right, I’ll bet he can do at least that again.”

“He another of Moncado’s cast-offs? I don’t like dealing with those bozos. Too much hand-holding.”

“Naw, Burnett. He’s independent.”

Rico looked at Sonny, waiting for the nod. When he got it he smiled. “Righteous! Is he here?”

“Naw. He’s a bit more private than this.” Garcia rubbed his thumb again. “Here’s the deal. He’s got twenty keys he’ll move at thirty-five per. It’s high-grade Peruvian flake. His stuff’s never stepped on. I don’t know that you’ll be able to talk his price down. Not with the first deal at least.”

“Righteous. When an’ where?”

Garcia smiled for the first time in the last ten minutes. “I knew you’d go for this. I can get in touch with him as soon as we’re done here and set it up. You got a number?”

Rico pulled out a matchbook and scribbled one of Stan’s blind numbers on the inside cover. “I’ll at that number for two more days. Seen? Then Teddy got business elsewhere.”

Garcia slipped the matchbook into his pocket. “I’ll call you tomorrow night with the details. Have the money and be ready to close. Burnett, you’ll want some transportation.”

“What kind?”

“I’ll let Teddy know when I call. I ain’t sure how he’ll want to move the stuff.”

Sonny nodded, then leaned across the table. “Don’t fuck us, Garcia. You do, and I will find you.”

“I got it. Believe me. I want this to work as much as you guys do. This town needs to get movin’ again. And speaking of which, I got places to be, too. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Teddy.”

Rico started to say something right after Garcia left, but Sonny held up his hand. You could never be sure if the booth wasn’t bugged. He’d do it, so odds were someone else had thought of that trick. And the rat had been there before they had. “Look, Teddy. You wanna drop me back at my car? I got some things to take care of before tomorrow if this bozo comes through.”

Rico looked at Mindy, who nodded. “Righteous, mon. We drop you an’ then go do our thing, seen?”

When they were back outside Rico turned to Sonny. “What the hell was that with the thumb?”

“Easy there, pal. Gotta keep the cover. And Burnett don’t take no crap like that.”

Mindy nodded, but Sonny could see some doubt in her eyes. “It made sense to me, Rico. And you could tell it didn’t surprise Garcia.” She tugged at her dress, settling it down a bit lower on her thighs. “And he did make my skin crawl.”

Rico nodded, but again Sonny could see doubt. He also realized he didn’t care. He found he liked the effect Burnett had on bozos like Garcia. “Ok. So now we wait for that chump to call.”

“Yeah.” Raising his wrist like he was checking the time, Sonny spoke into the mic. “Pack it in.” Then he turned back to Mindy and Rico and grinned. “You wanna drop me back at the garage?”

[mjcmmv]

Burnett and that cruel streak. Very ominous. 

El Unidad's the scariest one yet!