Breaking Point Part XII

[Robbie C.]

Rico was still in shock as he walked out of Castillo’s office. He’d never seen the man so angry before, except for when Menton had Trudy shot. And he’d also not realized just how bad this Unit 8 was, or how big a threat they represented. Still, he wondered if going to their level was the best way to deal with them.

Mindy had come back to get coffee, and she saw the look on his face. “What’s wrong, Rico?”

He shook his head, not answering until they were both in the reception office. “I don’t like it. Not yet, anyhow. Do we really need to go to this Unit 8’s level to beat them?”

“I read some of the reports this morning. I don’t know how Castillo got them, but he did.” She shuddered. “They’re evil men, Rico. As evil as they come. Resaca might have been the first time they beheaded people, but it wasn’t the last. And what made my skin crawl is how calculated it all is. Always eight. Always displayed where it will have the most impact. When the Peruvian police were after them they ambushed a convoy and left eight heads piled in the commander’s jeep. One was the commander’s, and the others were his sergeants and a lieutenant. The police never really got close to them again. And if they bring more of that here…”

“Yeah.” He shook his head almost in spite of himself. “I get it. It’s just hard for me to wrap my head around. And turning Sonny loose as Burnett…that’s a hard call.”

“Trudy told me about the whole Manolo thing.” She reached out and touched his arm. “I won’t pretend to understand how much that hurt you, or what it took to trust him again. But this seems different. He can control it now.”

“Can he? I mean can he really when it matters? I still see him last night. That thing with Garcia came out of nowhere.”

“Did it? He was Burnett before the shot was fired. Garcia didn’t know he was a cop, and still doesn’t.”

Rico shrugged. “Feel like taking a ride? No, not that kind. Not yet, anyhow. Marty said I should talk to Jenny about it. I think he’s right.”

Mindy smiled and nodded. “He’s right. If anyone’s going to have insight, it’s her. And we’ll see about that ride, cowboy.”

The drive to the marina passed quickly. Rico had half his attention on the road and the other on what he’d say to Jenny when they got to the boat. Mindy sat next to him, and he could tell by her expression she was thinking mostly about Dave. It made sense. They’d worked together for some time before the Task Force came together and he’d have been surprised if she had anything different on her mind. Thinking back to when Trudy got shot he remembered how he’d felt, but this looked different. Like Randy, Mindy was just mad. Maybe it was because Dave wasn’t hurt as badly. Or maybe they’d all resigned themselves to the likelihood of being wounded or even killed. How many has it been? Marty. Trudy. Now Dave. And Stan and Lester before that with the LAW. Hell, that’s over half of us. Only Sonny, me, and Mindy haven’t been shot or blown up. The thought stunned him.

Looking over as they pulled into an open spot in the marina parking lot, he wondered if Mindy had worked that out, too. And if she wondered when her time would come. He’d resigned himself to that years ago, or thought he had, but it was different now. He had something real to lose. Before it had been ideas, or dreams. Ricardo Junior. Valerie, or what was left of that dream. But now he had Mindy. It changed things, in ways he hadn’t expected. And now they were going to meet someone who’d changed Sonny’s world in the same way. Maybe more given what had happened to Caitlin.

Mindy touched his arm. “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. And ten to one she knows why we’re here.”

Mindy smiled. “I don’t take bets I know I’ll lose.”

Jenny was sitting just behind Tranquility’s wheel, drinking what looked like tea and flipping through a notebook. She smiled when she saw them, and Rico noticed she was wearing a business shirt with her almost-invisible cutoffs. “Hi! I was just looking over some stuff before a meeting with Angie.” She smiled and closed the notebook. “You’re here about Sonny. I can see it in your faces. Come on board and we’ll talk below. Mr. Jacobs is a nosy old guy.”

Mindy gave Rico an I told you so look as they headed below. It was the first time they’d been on the boat since Jenny had redone it, and he was amazed at how homey it felt. Like she crammed Casa Cooper into under sixty feet. Turning, she smiled at them. “Can I get you tea? Coffee?”

“I’m good. And we don’t wanna take too much of your time. I know this Caitlin’s House thing is important and big.”

“I don’t mind. Not when Sonny’s concerned.” She sat on one of the settees, folding her long legs under her. “How’s Dave?”

“They moved him into recovery and last we knew he’d been upgraded to stable.” Rico turned to Mindy and raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we know much more than that.”

“Who shot him?”

“Someone who used to be in the Peruvian army. It’s a bad scene, Jenny. Bad enough Castillo’s pretty much turning us loose to take them out.”

She nodded. “I felt something bad growing out there. They sent the heads, didn’t they?”

“Yes.” Mindy spoke now, and Rico leaned back a bit, glad she’d taken the lead. “And Marty’s asked Sonny to take change while he partners with Randy.”

“Good. Two warriors will help each other find balance.” She looked from one to the other. “And you’re worried about Sonny as Burnett.” It wasn’t a question.

Mindy shook her head. “No. Well, maybe Rico is. I’m more worried about how he’ll handle it all. It’s a lot, and he…”

“Doesn’t like to talk. I know. We can sit for hours out on the water and not say a word. But we just know.” She smiled. “Burnett is like his secret and his strength. It’s a side of him he buried for too long.” She turned to Rico. “I know what happened between you. During that time. I can tell you he’s learned to control Burnett, but you’ll need to see that to believe it. And I know you’re worried he won’t find his way back. He will. Before he didn’t have a reason to come back. Now he does.”

Rico nodded. “It’s not too much for him?”

“Not if you show him you trust him. I know that’s hard. He’s changed, and keeps changing.” She paused. “I know he wasn’t a good friend before. Or a good member of the team. I see it in Stanley when they’re together. He hurts from the loss of his friend, and Sonny still has to heal that hurt.” She took a sip of tea, and Rico noticed how blue her eyes were. “Sonny knows that, but he won’t say it.”

“So you think he’s solid?”

“Yes. He may go deep, but if these men are as bad as I feel he’ll need to draw on everything he has.” She reached out and touched both their hands. “Be his friend. He cares deeply about both of you. The whole team, really. But if he feels you there, he’ll come back. The danger is when he feels nothing.” Smiling again, she looked over at the clock on the wall. “The car will be here soon. I need to get my skirt on. Angie gets grumpy if I show up to meetings in my cut-offs.”

“Solid. Thanks for talking, Jenny.” Rico got to his feet. “Let us know if you need anything.”

“Just bring Sonny back to me. I can take care of anything else.”

They were halfway to the car before Rico turned to Mindy. “Why is it I always feel like I just had an out of body experience when I talk to her?”

She giggled. “I thought she made perfect sense. It must be a girl thing.”

“Then maybe you can translate that ‘girl thing’ for me.”

She wrinkled her forehead in thought as Rico pulled the big Caddy into traffic and headed back toward the tenth floor office. “Burnett’s like his safe place,” she said finally. “A place where he can go where he’s in total control. Where he can plan and make decisions without his ego getting in the way.”

“The cowboy.”

“Yes. Pretty much. When he stops caring about the spotlight he can plan using everything and everyone around him. And that’s safe for him.” She looked out the window. “I can see how losing Caitlin would have triggered something deep inside him. Especially considering the guy who shot her was on the street because of something Sonny’s ego drove him to do.”

“Did you get some kind of psych degree while I wasn’t looking?”

“No, silly. I did get some training from the FBI on profiling back when I was with the Philadelphia office, though. It still comes in handy sometimes.”

He grinned, pushing his sunglasses up on his nose and making the turn into the underground garage. “Then maybe you can profile me and tell me how the hell I can do what Jenny asks.”

“I’m not that good.” She smiled. “I guess just ne his friend, especially when it’s hard to be his friend. And maybe step in when it goes too far. You’ve seen that, and she hasn’t.”

“Yeah.” He shut off the big car, hearing the engine tick in the cool air of the garage. “I just wish I  knew how far back it went. Marty might be right about it starting before Vietnam even.”

“It doesn’t really matter. We just need to be there for him now and not worry about where he’s been. Only where he’s going.” Her voice was firm. “And now let’s get up there before I decide to give Stan’s security cameras something to watch.”

 

Rodrigo Delacruz looked at the latest report from Captain Salazar and allowed himself a thin smile. So far things looked to be going according to plan in Miami. Two messages had been sent, one big and one small, and the locals appeared to be falling into line. At least the ones who knew of El Unidad and what they represented. And he concurred with the captain’s assessment. It was time to broaden the reach to those who didn’t know but could learn.

Lieutenant Orozco should be arriving in Miami this afternoon, with the rest of his team following through various routes within two days. That was good. It would give Salazar more men to work with, and someone who’d provide pressure to keep his activity up. Like all good commanders, Rodrigo knew who got along in his unit and who didn’t, and he knew Orozco and Salazar were almost like oil and water. Orozco drove where Salazar preferred to wait and see, but the older man was much more thorough and complete than the younger hothead.

But now he had another decision to make. Looking out the window over the expanse of the city, he felt he was getting out of touch with events on the ground. Especially in Miami. An operation of that complexity and delicacy required a commander’s eyes and touch, and there was too much lag here.

Looking at Salazar’s report again, he picked up the phone and hit a programmed number. “What do we know about this Sonny Burnett?” He spelled the last name and waited while a corporal accessed their database. Intelligence was at least half the battle, and Rodrigo insisted on winning that half first. “Yes, the captain mentioned he does transportation. I see. Mostly up the coast and further inland. And he was the one who caused all that damage to the Manolo organization? Interesting. Thank you, corporal.”

Putting the phone down, he kept looking out the window. What the corporal had told him convinced him even more it was time to set up what the Americans liked to call a jump headquarters. Someplace closer to the action where he could remain in control and provide direction when it was needed. This Burnett seemed very capable for a transportation man, and he’d need careful handling.

He was disappointed Salazar hadn’t been able to identify the other sniper who’d been on scene at the meeting, and also had questions about Corporal Valderama’s decision to engage. At least he didn’t shoot this Burnett, too. That would have been a tragic mistake. He wasn’t too concerned about the identity of the other man at the meeting, or the woman. He assumed she worked for this Burnett, and the man was likely a buyer of some kind. He didn’t care about buyers…there were always more of them. But good transport people were rare. It was a resource you needed to conserve if you could. Individual runners were expendable, but the people who coordinated that network were not, especially if they were as good as Burnett seemed to be.

Nodding, he turned away from the window. He’d leave a few men here to keep the home fires burning and their network running. Much of El Unidad’s local activity could be handled by new recruits with a handful of experienced men to provide leadership and oversight. His veterans he’d need closer to the action. Salazar’s report showed him just how much money was to be made in Miami and the southern part of El Notre, the part that hadn’t been claimed by the Mexicans at any rate. And maybe, one day, they’d challenge them, too.

Reaching into his desk, he pulled out a folder and opened it to a map of the coastal waters around Miami. In the last year his logistics people had been buying up one or two smaller islands, just outside U.S. territorial waters but within easy reach of the coast. Hidden behind layers of shell companies, many fronted by his former patron, they provided perfect locations for a jump headquarters and staging area. Running his finger down a list next to the map, he found what he was looking for and smiled.

He picked up the phone again and hit another number. “Sergeant major? Ready the men designated as jump team one. We’re setting up a jump HQ at location Enrique. I want to be ready to move in forty-eight hours. Make it happen, Pascal.”

 

Randy had always felt at home on a rifle range. Even before the Marine Corps tried to beat the routine into his very soul he’d been shooting in the hills and draws around Butte. When things got too tense at home he’d take his rifle and head out, shooting until it got too dark to see and he knew the fights would have exhausted themselves. And now, with Dave out of action, he sought that peace again.

He could see a knot of Metro-Dade snipers gathering as he drove the range cart back from the barrel a thousand yards out. Ignoring them, he climbed out and unsnapped the clasps on the battered case. The Remington waited for him, like it had since that hot day in 1968 when he’d turned away from the rifle and to the spotting scope. He pulled it out, feeling the familiar heft of the weapon and smelling the linseed oil rubbed into the wood stock. One of the first M700s to come in-country, it didn’t have the later fiberglass stock. Even though he’d checked it with a bore sight back in the office, he was still worried about the scope. But the targets would show him the truth.

“Start at one hundred,” he muttered as he went to the prone position, shifting a small sandbag so it supported the wooden fore grip of the rifle. “See if she’s good, then step it out. Save the real work for that damned barrel.” He looked over, making sure the spotting scope close enough so he could just lean over and check each shot. The range book was also in easy each. He’d log each shot, shooting back in the way he’d been taught years gone now. Ammo. Ear plugs. He was set.

One set of five rounds told him the scope still held true at one hundred, and he repeated the drill until he was confident at five hundred. Each shot pushed the stock back into the familiar spot in his shoulder, the trigger breaking at the same brittle instant under his index finger each time. And he could feel his worries, his fears bleeding into the mechanism with each shot. The world narrowed to questions of height, of wind determined by the fluttering flags spaced at regular intervals on the range, and how to adjust each shot using the wires and range scale built into the older Redfield scope. Dialing up to nine power, he found his mind slipping back into old habits.

He could sense the Metro-Dade people moving closer as he moved to the longer-range targets. He thought he could hear Carter’s voice through the earplugs, but he blocked it out. Five shots at six hundred yards, an adjustment or two, and then five more at seven hundred. The rifle, unfamiliar at first, had settled back in like the old friend it was. Now it was time to try the barrel again.

Something told him he’d need the range when he met that damned sniper again. Unit 8 or no. He’d be Army-trained, so he’d shoot at five or six hundred yards at most. Maybe a bit longer in a stretch. But if he could hit at a thousand yards, Randy knew he’d own the fucker. Either way he’d get one shot. Now he just needed a spotter. He had no doubt Castillo would be good at it…hell, the man seemed to be good at everything he got near. But they’d need time to find each other’s groove. That was for tomorrow. Today was all about the rifle.

The barrel was smaller through the Redfield, but that was because it was a lower-power scope. He didn’t care. He’d hit targets at a thousand yards in Nam more than once, and he’d found his groove. The five shots went downrange in quick succession, and he left the bolt open so the breech could cool. Tha familiar ache was in his shoulder, and he felt good. Drained, but good.

“Hear your boy got shot last night.” There was no mistaking Carter’s voice this time. “You not see the target? That why you’re out here and he’s in the hospital?”

Randy got to his feet, his eyes focused on something far away. “You’d best shut your fucking mouth now.”

“Why? Hell, it’s true.” Carter’s voice sneered,, and his lips twisted in a sort of smile. “And now they gotta call out the second string.” He could see the others gathering around, waiting to see how things played out. And he saw something move behind them, a ghost flicking across his field of vision.

“You get one warning. Step off now.”

“Or what? You’ll try to kick my ass? Hell, we used to kick Marine ass for fun. That’s what you were, right?”

“Stop.” The single word cut through the thick air, and the other men moved out of the way like they’d been hit with a cattle prod. Martin Castillo stepped into the circle, his eyes hidden by his habitual dark glasses. “Leave. Now.”

“I don’t think so. You ain’t in my chain of command, greaser.”

Randy didn’t see it coming. Castillo’s leg became a blur of motion, the wheel kick dropping Carter like a sack of grain tossed from the back of a truck. “Get this piece of shit off my range. And you can be sure your commander will have my report by the end of the day.” Castillo took off his glasses, and the men shrank away from his glare. “Go. If I see you again, I won’t be as gentle.”

Randy shook his head. “That was a hell of a move.”

“He deserved it.”

“No argument from me. I was gonna kick his ass, but to be honest I ain’t sure I’d have stopped after one hit.”

Castillo nodded. “I don’t blame you. How’s the shooting?”

“Good. I think I’m back in the grove with old faithful here.”

Nodding, Castillo went prone and settled in behind the spotting scope. The Metro-Dade snipers were a fading memory. “Let’s get to work. I’m a bit rusty, and we need to be sharp when we meet this Unit 8 again. Are you good out to a thousand yards?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll start there and work my way back.” He peered into the scope. “Call it.”

“Range a thousand.”

“Thousand and five.”

Randy whistled. “You got it. I was trying to trip you up.”

“Good. Keep doing it.” Castillo shifted. “Wind ten from the east south east. I don’t intend to leave until we’ve shot through all the ammo you brought.”

 

It was the middle of the afternoon, and Sonny found himself outside The Sanctuary. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten there or why he’d stopped outside the club, but somehow it seemed right.

Not long before he’d been catching up on mindless paperwork. Rico was off somewhere with Mindy, Trudy was helping Stan and Lester go through the logs from the night before to see if they could learn anything new about that signal they’d picked up, and he felt useless. No, useless wasn’t quite the right word. Adrift might be better. So he’d gotten up, muttering something about going out for some air, and driven off in the Ferrari.

And now he was here. Locking the car and slipping on his sunglasses he tugged at his white blazer and headed for the door. The doorman nodded, recognizing him and once, and said, “Mr. Cann’s in his office, Mr. Burnett. You know the way.”

“Thanks.”

It was cool in the club after the heat of the street, and a scant handful of people lined the bar or sat in small groups at the tables. Too early for the evening crowd and too late for the noon drinkers, he’d timed things perfectly. Still, he picked out two of Robbie’s security people on the floor. His old friend didn’t believe in taking chances.

Robbie sat behind his desk working on what looked like a booze order, and he smiled when Sonny came in. “Always good to see you, Sonny,” he said as he got up and came around the desk, extending his hand. “You bring Rico, too?’

“Naw. I’m flying solo.” Sonny pulled off his Ray Bans and tucked them into the inside pocket of his blazer. “Been a rough couple of days.” Sinking in a club chair he told Robbie about Dave getting shot. “Turns out these bastards are ex-military,” he finished. “Trained by us, no less.”

“Not first first time we’ve seen that.”

“No, but these guys are top of the line. Trained by Green Berets and all that high-speed shit.” He signed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Marty’s got me looking after things while he settles Randy down, and I got some dark places to go to if I want to get this done.”

Robbie nodded as he poured two glasses of small batch bourbon. “Than Burnett thing you were talking about?”

“Yeah. Makes me feel like a nutjob talking about myself like that, though.” He took the drink with a nod of thanks and smiled as the bourbon bit the back of his throat.

“We’re all two halves, Sonny. More sometimes. Look at me. Club owner and Vietnam vet but also one of the few to make it out of the Cannata family. At least two different things.”

“Yeah, but this is different. You didn’t take out the whole Cannata family and run their business for a few months.”

“No, but I could have. It would have been damned easy if I didn’t have that guiding star in me that didn’t let me do it.”

“Don’t start on that again, Robbie. I ain’t going Catholic even if I am your son’s godfather.”

Robbie laughed. “Nothing like that, Sonny. Besides, you’d drink all the Communion wine and probably bang one of the nuns in the bargain. Naw, I’m talking about what makes you you. Don’t forget, we played ball together back in the old days. I saw you build that Cowboy Crockett thing. I used to be the fly off the handle and think with my ass instead of my head one and you were calmer. That changed on the football field and later in Nam.”

Sonny nodded, feeling the bourbon warming his body. “Yeah, I guess it kinda did.”

“And you were out for yourself. No getting around that. I love you like a brother, but you were an asshole when I met you again here.”

“Yeah, I know I was.”

“But you didn’t see it then, man. That’s my point. You were so into you that you didn’t notice anything else. Couldn’t notice anything else.”

Sonny nodded, seeing Larry Zito in the shower again with that needle in his arm. “Yeah. And I don’t know how it happened.”

“And then things went really south. But that other part of you was still there. The one that called the plays, rallied convoys when the shit hit the fan. I guess you call it Burnett, but it was there all along.”

“Maybe. Hell, it’s all too deep for me. How’d you get into this shit?”

“I broke down hard after I testified against dad and all his mooks.” Robbie drained his glass and poured another, offering the bottle to Sonny with a raised eyebrow and filling his glass at the answering nod. “Ended up going to therapy. I know, I never said anything about it before. But it saved my life, man. Really. And I learned a bit on that couch, too. How to see things. You went full into Burnett because you had nothing left. Work only goes so damned far, and your wife and son had been murdered. Most guys would have just snapped, but you went back to your old self.”

“Deep shit, Robbie. And we’re not drunk enough to talk about real shit.”

“Maybe that’s good. But you gotta embrace that side of you, Sonny. It’s hard. I know I struggled for years with my family and its legacy. Still do most days. But look at what this Burnett accomplished. Shit, he’s still got a reputation that sends tough guys the other way. And you’ve used that stuff how many times now to save your team?”

Sonny nodded. He knew he couldn’t argue. But it was hard. All the bad things came ghosting up when he didn’t expect it. Images of Celeste and that psycho El Gato. And good old Cliff trying to set him up so he could take over. But sometimes he saw the things that preceded Burnett. His Marine training teaching him to plan. Those moments in critical games when he could almost see the field like he was hovering above it and knew what move to make. And earlier, foggy memories of his father and grandfather trying to teach him things like there wasn’t enough time. After a time he spoke. “Yeah. I get it. It’s just…”

“Hard. Yeah. It’s easier if you don’t fight it.” Robbie grinned. “But here I am beating my gums when I should be telling Debbie to take the night off and go see Dave.”

“He’d like that, even though it will embarrass the hell out of him. I’ll call ahead and clear it with the security team if she wants to go.”

“Have another drink and I’ll go see. I bet she does, though. She talks about that meathead all the time.”

Sonny sat in the empty office once Robbie left, nursing his bourbon and letting Robbie’s words work their way through his brain. Knowing his old friend was right didn’t make any of it easier to absorb. Or make it more comfortable. He knew what he’d done as Burnett, and what he’d almost done. How did you embrace that? But he had to figure it out. And soon.

“I was right.” Robbie came back with Debbie, the pretty blonde waitress Dave had been seeing for a few months now. “She wants to go.”

“How is he?”

“I haven’t seen him, Deb, but we were told he’s in stable condition.” Sonny walked over and picked up Robbie’s phone. “I’ll call ahead and make sure you’re cleared. He’s at Mercy General. The recovery wing by now. But he’s got a marshal security detail. Be sure you have ID with you.” He hit some numbers and waited. “Lester? Yeah, it’s Sonny. Look, could you call over and make sure Debbie’s cleared to pass through the detail to see Dave? Thanks, man. I’d do it, but I don’t have their contact info.” He turned back to the girl. “You should be cleared by the time you get there. Lester’s fast."

[mjcmmv]

Good to see Sonny working things through with Robbie's help. And Rico trying to understand Burnett by talking to Jenny.

So many pieces of the puzzle created by the series falling into place. 

[Robbie C.]

Glad you feel like it's working. The gaps the series left always annoyed me.

[Robbie C.]

You might see one or two more close before this one's over, too.