Breaking Point Part XIII

[Robbie C.]

Trudy Castillo listened as Lester finished making his call to the hospital security detail. “Sonny didn’t have their number,” he said by way of explanation when he looked up and saw her watching.

“Yeah. I know. So he’s with Robbie?”

“I’d say so. That’s where the call came from.”

She nodded, turning back to her office. It had been a hard morning, ever since she’d woken to find Marty already gone. The note on his pillow hadn’t done much to ease her thoughts, and the briefing hadn’t helped a bit. And poking through the DEA and Marshal’s Service databases had left her even more worried.

Unit 8 had been cutting a bloody swath through most of the transportation networks in Peru and Columbia, and even parts of Bolivia. Now that she knew what to look for she found their trail easy to follow. Producers who quibbled found their families cut to pieces. Transport people who balked at their ‘protection’ were burned alive in eight tires or their headless bodies found propped behind the wheel of one vehicle or another. If there were fewer victims than eight, the number was carved on a dead body’s chest or eight severed limbs were arranged on the ground in the same shape. And they’d been moving steadily north until there was only one place left to go.

Putting names to the faces in the unit was harder, but she was making progress. There had been a major, but he’d been killed in some kind of running gun battle in the first days of the unit’s freelance actions. They’d already found the colonel, but she’d tracked down mention of a captain named Salazar, a couple of younger lieutenants, and a sadist with the rank of sergeant major named Pascal. She thought she could trace the pattern of the unit’s escalations of violence to the presence of Pascal, but it was still too early to tell. And the colonel would have to approve in any case.

What she was learning left her shaken, more than she’d ever been since the creation of the Task Force. Unit 8 looked to be almost as good as they were, and they had more manpower. Looking at the printouts and the characters on her screen, she understood why Marty had taken the limits off the Task Force, and she found herself wondering just how much more he knew about them that he wasn’t sharing. Even with her.

Stan’s voice jolted her out of her thoughts. “Lester and I are gonna go grab some grub. You want to come or have us bring back something?”

“Thanks, Stan. I want to keep digging through this. But I wouldn’t say no to a sandwich. A BLT if you’re going by that deli down the street.”

“Consider it done.” Stan chuckled, his laugh lifting her mood instantly. “All I know is I’m so hungry it’s gonna take more than mom’s fried peanut butter and banana sandwiches to make a dent. It’s burger time for big ol’ Stan.”

She was starting to settle back into the grim work of tracking Unit 8 through Columbia when Rico and Mindy got back. Rico looked around. “Where’s Sonny?”

“Down at The Sanctuary last I heard.” She smiled. “I think he needed to talk to Robbie.”

“Solid.” But there was something in Rico’s eyes hinting it wasn’t solid at all. “And Castillo? I mean the other one.”

“On the range with Randy. How’d it go with Jenny?”

“Damned if I know. Mindy made sense of it, though. All I know is she thinks Sonny’s solid.” He turned away. “I’m gonna catch up on the intel. If I don’t see him first, give me a shout when Sonny gets back.”

Trudy frowned. “What’s up his ass?”

“The whole Sonny and Burnett thing.” Mindy sat down with a sigh. “I thought he was ok, and then he started muttering on the way up in the elevator.”

“You know Sonny took a shot at him when he was Burnett?”

“Yes. But I also know that side of him has saved us more than once.” She looked down at her nails, and Trudy could sense the struggle in her heart. “Burnett is Sonny’s safe place, Trudy. It’s where he goes when he needs to be in control. I think it’s been there for years, maybe since he was little. Somehow he buried it when he was with Vice, and we know what happened there.”

“Yes. Larry Zito. Eddie. Caitlin.”

“And he couldn’t take it once he realized he’d been responsible for it all. So he retreated to his safe place. Somehow that got scrambled by the explosion, I think, and his original cover.”

Trudy shook her head. “Way above my pay grade, sister. That’s all I know. But I do think those two need to have a serious talk when Sonny gets back. I’ve been reading up on this Unit 8, and they’re bad. I mean really bad. Think Maynard and that fat puke from the CIA and triple them. They won’t stop until they’re dead, and Marty’s right. The second they figure out we’re here they’re going to come after us. And they won’t play around.”

Mindy nodded, still looking down. “I’m scared.”

“So am I. And so’s Marty, I think. Not for himself, but for us and what those animals would do to this city if they get established. He’s not going to let that happen, Mindy. No matter what it takes.” She looked down at the desk, the weight of her own words sinking in. “No matter that it takes.”

“What can we do?”

“I’ve been going through everything I can get my hands on. DEA, FBI, what little CIA stuff we can shake loose. Even some DOD because of the School of the Americas. I’m trying to put together profiles of the leaders. The officers. We need to know who we’re up against. We already know what they’re capable of.”

“Did Stan and Lester get anywhere with that signal?”

“Not really. Just that it’s military-grade hardware.” Trudy shook her head. “It probably came from us. Just like their weapons and training.”

“I’ll make some off the books calls to Quantico. I still know some people there from some classes I took before I was posted to Miami. They might have some stuff that didn’t make it into the files.”

“Get on it, sister. I’ll shake the damned databases again. But it feels like we’re cleaning up someone else’s mess. Again.”

“You might try ATF, too.”

“Yeah. That hardware. I doubt they have anything, but you’re right. It’s worth a check. They might have something. And I’ll see if anyone’s managed to pull anything worth a shit out of Hector and his buddies down in Federal lockup.”

 

Rico sat in the office he shared with Sonny, looking out the window and trying to get his thoughts and his heart in order. He’d been shorter with Trudy than he intended, and he’d apologize to her later. Right now he needed to get straight with himself.

He could still see Sonny pointing the pistol at him in the dim stairwell of the lighthouse. See how his eyes shifted just before he said “I know you. You’re a cop” and tried to shoot him. But there was always the question in his heart. Had there been something else in his eyes? Something that made him miss? He’d never known Sonny Crockett to miss with a pistol at that range. It was like Dave missing with a rifle at thirty feet.

The problem was he didn’t know. And he didn’t think Sonny knew, either. Looking down the barrel of a gun held by your parter was a hard thing to forgive, let alone forget. But what Jenny said made sense, and Mindy brought it into tighter focus. And he’d never really stopped to think…what did it feel like to be Sonny Crockett knowing you’d been indirectly responsible for the death of at least one partner, a fellow unit member, and your own wife? He’d only carried the weight of Angelia and it damned near broke him. How had Sonny managed, especially when the cowboy broke and he came face to face with himself?

And now there was a collection of military-trained psychos bearing down on Miami. The eight heads had shaken him in a way nothing had before. And then when they realized it was a message and not just some random psycho it was even worse. Looking out the window, he could see the damend boat again in his mind. Those heads all arranged in a figure eight, the eyes all forward like they were watching for the dock to come into view. It was one of those things he knew he’d see at random at three in the morning for the rest of his life.

Maybe Castillo was right. Maybe they needed Burnett again. And maybe, just maybe, he’d have to leave his comfort zone and resurrect Marcus Jefferson. He knew if they came after Mindy he’d have no choice.

Sonny came back just after three, smelling of Lucky Strikes and bourbon. “How’s Robbie?” Rico asked without looking up from the file Trudy had dropped off not ten minutes before.

“Good. He says hello.” Sonny knocked another of the filterless cigarettes out of his pack and lit it with the battered old Zippo Rico had seen him carrying for years. “And we need to talk, partner.”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Just say it. You don’t want to see Burnett come back.”

Rico looked up. “It’s hard to want someone back who pointed a gun at your face, Sonny. But I get it. I just spent part of the afternoon up to my damned knees in the blood Unit 8’s spilled down south. Peru. Columbia. Bolivia. Hell, they’re some nasty cats. And they know what the hell they’re doing. We trained them to be good, and then they went off the rails.”

Sonny nodded, sending a stream of smoke into the air. “Yeah. I seen shit like this in Nam. Heard about worse from guys who helped secure Hue after Tet in ’68 and found the mass graves. And I expect Marty’s seen just about all of it.”

“You know, partner, I was thinking earlier. You, me, Randy, and Mindy are the only cats who ain’t been shot or blown up in this unit. All the rest have been. And you know what else I was thinking? When you were thinking like Burnett we didn’t have anyone get shot.” He looked down, wrestling with the question and finally deciding. “But I got to know. In the lighthouse. Would you have shot me?”

Sonny paused, taking a deep drag on the cigarette. “I think about that a lot,” he said after a time, looking at the glowing end of the cigarette. “A lot of that time is still foggy. But I’ve been chasing this one hard, Rico. No. I wouldn’t have. That much I do know. I wish I could tell you more, but I don’t know more. Maybe one day.”

Rico nodded. “That’s all I needed to know, partner.”

Sonny shook his head. “No, it’s not. That side of me’s been around for years, man. I mean years. Before Nam even. Robbie and I talked about it. We go back a long time. But I lost touch with that side, and people I cared about got hurt. Hell, Stan still don’t like being in the same room with me. Eddie’s kid’s never gonna know his father. And Caitlin and Will…that’s with me every day. If I can keep the people I care about safe by channeling Burnett, I’ll do it. Like standing up in front of Maynard. I’ll do it every damned time now.”

Rico nodded, not really knowing what to say. Then it hit him. “Marcus has your back, Burnett. We’ll fuck these fools up bad. Make ‘em wish they would have stayed down in banana land.”

 

Randy found Debbie asleep in one of the chairs in the private room when he stopped by to check on Dave on the way home from the range. The marshal on duty, a big lug he recognized from one of the warrant teams, smiled when he looked in. “Yeah. She’s been there for like three hours now.”

“Dave said anything?”

“No. They’ve got him pretty doped up.” The man patted his jacket. “We got him covered, Dave. Don’t worry.”

“The guys coming after him are ex-military. And trained to the gills curtesy of good old Uncle Sam. Don’t let your guard down. If they decide to finish it, they’ll come in hot and heavy.”

“That’s what Pete said. So I brought my whole team. There’s the two of us you can see and then the rest.”

“I don’t doubt you, man. Just want you to know what you might be up against.”

“How the hell did you piss these boys off?”

“We didn’t. This was collateral damage.”

The big man whistled low. “Damn. Anyhow, you might want to wake her up at least. These chairs ain’t the best for sleeping.”

Once in the room Randy stood for a minute, the tang of antiseptic biting his nose and the steady beeping of God knows what medical devices assailing his ears. Walking over, he touched Debbie’s shoulder. “Hey. How’s he doing?”

She started awake, blinking and then smiling as she recognized Randy. “They say good. But all I know about doctors is what I see on the soaps.”

“Me, too.” He smiled, trying to keep her cheerful. In truth he’d been in military hospitals more than he liked to remember, and from what he could see Dave did look pretty good. Even though he was trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey. “But them movin’ him here is a good sign.”

Dave’s dry-throat whisper echoed from the bed. “Man, I close my eyes for a damned second and you’re already scammin’ on my girl.”

Randy struggled to hide his smile. “I figured she needs a feller who can at least dance with her. And it looks to me like you’re a wing down in that department. That an’ I had to see if you were really skatin’ back here suckin’ down ice cream while I’m sweating my body weight out at the range.”

He watched with a smile as Debbie got to her feet, awkward as she stretched to get blood moving into legs that had been folded under her for too long, and headed to the side of the bed. In his mind she’d just passed the first big test; what she did when her man got hit. He’d seen too many girlfriends and even wives in the Corps and after who’d just head the other way. Turing away, he let them talk for a bit, tuning his ears so he only heard voices and not the words.

It was Dave who brought him back. “You get the bastard?”

“Not yet. But we’re workin’ on it.” He turned to Debbie. “I hate to ask, but would you mind gettin’ us some water? I forgot on the way in, and I’ll bet Dave’s dry as a bone in the middle of the Mojave Desert.”

She smiled. “I’ve been around you guys long enough to know when you want to talk business. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes. It should take that long to find the ladies’ room, pee, and get your water.”

Randy nodded his thanks and watched her leave. “She’s a good one,” he said as the door clicked shut.

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Dave grinned, his eyes swimming a bit from the painkillers. “But that don’t answer my question.”

“Didn’t get him then, but we’re gonna.” He gave Dave a brief run-down about Unit 8. “And you did miss the captain kicking the shit out of that puke Carter. And I mean one kick to the jaw.”

“Damn. I’d a paid good money to see that. He shooting?”

“No.” Randy paused for a moment. “I am.”

“How’s he as a spotter?”

“Damned good. He’s done it before, and more than he’ll admit to. But you know Castillo.”

“Yeah. Spooks in general.” Dave tried to sit up, grimaced, and leaned back on the pillows. “It ain’t your fault, Randy. Not a bit of it.”

“Sarge is blamin’ himself, too. Even with the boss tryin’ to talk him out of it.”

“You tell Stan I don’t blame him, neither. Hell, we had no clue those boys had a Banning-trained sniper out there.”

“Why do you say Benning?”

“If he’d been scout-sniper trained I’d be dead.” Dave’s smile was weak, and Randy could hear his voice winding down like a child’s toy. “Bad luck’s what it was. But if Castillo can see him you’ll kill him. You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen, bro. No exceptions. Just let go of the bad luck and nail that bastard.”

Randy nodded, not trusting his voice. Instead he touched Dave’s good shoulder, making sure his friend felt the pressure of his fingers. When Debbie came back he lifted a finger to his lips. “He’s out again,” he whispered. “And from the look on that last nurse’s face I think visiting hours are over. Did you need me to drop you somewhere?’

She smiled. “Could you take me back to the club? Mr. Cann had one of his people drop me off, and my car’s there. That and I need to finish my shift.”

“If that pogue’s makin’ you…”

“No. He said go and don’t worry about clocking out. But I feel like I should put in the time.” She looked over at the bed. “And if I’m busy it keeps me from worrying about him.”

Randy grinned. “That old skater? He’ll be fine.” His voice had more conviction than he felt. Judging from the bandages Dave had at least a broken collarbone and bones in his shoulder, along with muscle damage. He hadn’t looked at the chart, but he knew from seeing other men shot the same way his partner had months of therapy to look forward to. Finishing his water, he smiled at Debbie again. “And I wasn’t foolin’ about the water. It’s damned hot out on that range. Come on. I’ll get you back to work.”

 

Captain Salazar was still reading through the notes his team had prepared about the response to the shooting when one of the duty men burst into the room he’d turned into his office. “Sir! I just got word from Cruces. He thinks they found the wounded man. He’s at Mercy General, but under heavy guard.”

Salazar nodded. “Tell him good work. Also have him hold position. I don’t want him giving himself away. I need to know more about these guards. Are they local policia? Federales? Who?”

The young man nodded. “And Lieutenant Orozco’s flight was on time. He should be here in ten minutes, jefe.”

Salazar nodded. “Thank you. Have him wait ten minutes before he reports in.” It was a calculated thing, like almost everything Salazar did. To remind the whelp that even if he enjoyed the colonel’s favor it was Salazar who was in command here.

He knew Colonel Delacruz considered him too cautious. But this was different terrain than the Andes or the dirty streets of Bogota. It required a different touch. Salazar had been one of the men trained by the CIA on the streets of Washington, D.C., in what the Gringos called tradecraft, and he’d seen American police response up close and personal. What was theory for Delacruz was reality for Salazar. A softer, quieter hand was required here. And Victor Orozco had neither skill.

Of course the man had value. If you were assaulting a village full of peasants or conducting a raid on a cocaine production facility with heavily-armed guards, Orozco was your man. He had that flair, always in front with his silly chrome-plated pistol. The first one to lop off a screaming man’s head and ram it on a pole or stack it on a car seat. But he didn’t seem to know when to stop kicking down doors or hacking off heads. Not a problem in a jungle village, but a big problem in a city like Miami. And there were his other indiscretions…

Shaking his head, Salazar forced himself back to the present. He trusted Cruces to keep a low profile and gather what information he could without risking discovery. The lean man had been a standout in the CIA training, and had shown a knack for getting into police offices in Columbia and Bolivia and coming back with information worth its weight in gold. The men he’d lost at the warehouse had been almost as good, and he wondered if this Gringo sniper team had been the ones who’d taken them out.

It was in the last minute before Orozco was due to report in that Salazar found what he’d been looking for. Buried deep in the radio traffic that had clogged the airways after the call for an officer down, someone had come on the air and mentioned a task force. No, he corrected himself as he read the transcript again, THE Task Force. Looking at the top of the sheet, he pressed a button on the intercom he’d had his men buy from a wondrous place called Radio Shack. “I’ll need tape fourteen, please. As soon as I’m done here.”

Victor Orozco reported in exactly one second after the ten minute waiting period. Salazar expected no less. And as always the man’s dark hair was slicked back and his civilian suit cut just a hair too perfect for Salazar’s taste. The man’s uniforms had been worse, always flown in from some overseas tailor. Even his damned fatigues. What kind of man has his fatigues tailored? Still, he returned the man’s salute and waived him to chair. “How was your flight?”

“Long. But it’s good to be here. I’m ready to go to work, sir.”

No, you’re not. Salazar smiled. “Of course. But first you’ll need to get up to speed. The situation has changed since you left. Our second message has been delivered, and we have a new target.”

“Shall I take a team…”

“No, lieutenant. This target requires special handling. He’s not some peasant you can frighten with noises in the dark. And he’s a Gringo.”

“So? That should make it easier.”

“Not this one.” Salazar sat back, fighting to keep his annoyance off his face and out of his voice. “Do you remember the briefings about the Manolo organization?”

Orozco nodded. “I do. The Gringos loved to brag about how they broke up the organization just before it tied in with some Mexican colonel. But that wasn’t done by Manolo.”

“Do you remember the name?”

“I think so. Burnett, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Until he was betrayed by one of his associates.”

“He managed to avoid capture if I recall. But what does this have to do with our operation?”

“Burnett is the new target.”

Orozco’s eyes went wide. “I assumed he was dead.”

“No, lieutenant. He went back to what he’d always done well. Transportation. According to our contacts he is the best in South Florida. And also the most dangerous.”

“We could send him a message.”

“How? You forget, he took out the Manolos by killing them. There are whispers he fed El Gato to his own jaguar. And killing him won’t help. He holds the keys to his organization in his own hand. It seems he learned from his betrayal.” Salazar shook his head. “This news came to us just last night, also. That is why you need to get up to speed, Victor.” He got to his feet. “There is a bedroom in this safe house at your disposal. I’ve dispersed some of the other men to different locations.”

“What’s our cover?”

“This is simply a small apartment building. One of the many in the neighborhood.” Salazar smiled. “We own it through one of the Panamanian shell companies. What neighbors there are pay no attention to anyone but themselves.”

He enjoyed the look on Orozco’s face when he saw the stack of files he had to read. “I’ll get started right away, sir.”

“Excellent. The rest of your team should arrive over the next few days. And now if you’ll excuse me I have a tape to review.”

 

Victor Orozco managed to control his anger until he was alone in his room. Then he slammed his fist into the mattress twice, letting the rage flow into the physical act. How dare Salazar speak to him as though he were a child! He knew the risks here, maybe better than the captain did.

Still, he knew he had to obey orders. The colonel took a dim view of young officers who didn’t. But once his team arrived he’d have more room to work. There would be messages to deliver. Routes to secure. And maybe opponents to test his steel against. He’d heard a great deal of talk about how tough the cocaine cowboys were in Miami, but so far he’d seen nothing that impressed him. Nothing that compared to the men he’d faced and bested in the jungles of Peru or backstreets of Columbia.

Standing in front of a mirror attached to the room’s lone dresser, he pulled out a pocket comb and adjusted the part in his hair. Attention to detail. Growing up the second son of a shopkeeper, he’d learned attention at his father’s feet while taking inventory, and tasting the back of his hand if the count was off. But even then he’d listened to his mother’s whispered words. You’re better than this she said many nights as he counted cans and packages of rice on the store’s narrow shelves. You will go places. And for a boy with no monetary resources or prospects, going somewhere meant the army.

The Chorrillos Military School had almost been his undoing, but at the end he’d come out stronger. As a green sub-lieutenant he’d been fortunate enough to get a posting with the 1^st Mechanized Cavalry Regiment, also known as the Junin Hussars. He’d learned to be aggressive at Chorrillos to cover for his lower social origins, and the Hussars gave him a perfect outlet for that aggression. They’d been working on an anti-guerrilla detail when he launched a raid that ended up capturing one of the Shining Path’s major local commanders. That got the attention of a rising colonel named Delacruz and he was invited to joint the new Unit 8.

It was there, under the watchful eyes of Sergeant Major Pascal, he found his calling. Tracking and hunting guerrillas in the mountains. Shooting their way into cocaine production facilities. And teaching the peasants, rebels, and criminals to fear El Unidad when it drew near. At the time he’d been under the command of Major Fuentes. A warrior of the same school as the sergeant major. And it was in the mountain villages they began using heads as messages.

Shaking his head, he forced himself out of memories of the high, clear mountain air and back to the thickness of a late Miami afternoon. He’d follow orders, at least until his team arrived and he got his feet under him. He knew his English wasn’t near as good as the captain’s, and he also knew that was liability even in a city like Miami. And maybe this Burnett would be the one he could use to build his reputation in Miami.

 

Jenny was waiting on deck when Sonny walked down the dock at the end of the day. She was wearing her thin white t-shirt and maybe a bikini bottom…the sun had fallen low enough he couldn’t tell. But he didn’t really notice that. It was her smile he saw and most wanted to see.

“Rico and Mindy came by earlier today.” She kissed him and looked into his eyes. “They wanted to know about Burnett.”

“Yeah. I figured he’d come by. He’s worried with Dave laid up and this whole Unit 8 thing.” He gave her a quick rundown on what they knew about Unit 8 as they headed belowdecks. “Marty’s right. This one’s going to be nasty.”

“You need your warrior side, just like Martin needs his. Even Rico. I know he’s got something hidden away. I can see its shadows sometimes when he’s not paying attention.” She sat down on the settee beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “And I’ll be here for you, Sonny. No matter what. Just like you were there for me when Monaele came for me.”

He nodded, touching her leg and feeling her smooth skin under his fingertips. “So how was Caitlin’s House today?”

Her eyes grew bright and she started talking about the girls and how they were fitting in with the programs. Sonny listened, nodding from time to time, feeling her enthusiasm chase his demons away. He hadn’t thought of that when he decided to turn Caitlin’s old house into a rehab facility for girls, but one of the great benefits so far had been how it reminded him there was some good in the world. That her death could mean something, and give something to others.

“You’re only half here, silly.”

“I know, darlin’. And I’m sorry. But I promise I was thinking about the House. How much good it can do.”

“I know. You had that little smile on your face. Like she was touching your shoulder.”

He nodded, not trusting himself to reply. He still didn’t understand Jenny’s feelings about Caitlin, but he was damned glad she wasn’t jealous of the memory. “I’m just glad it’s going well.” He kissed her, feeling her press against him. “And I just realized I’m starving. Let me see what’s in the galley.”

“I made us sandwiches. I was thinking we could take your macho boat out a ways and eat under the stars.” She smiled, slipping her t-shirt up so it almost reached the top of her thighs. “And maybe a few other things, too.”

“I like how you think.” He smiled again, letting his gaze roam over her firm body. “And it’s been a bit since I took the Scarab out. It could use a run.”

“So could I…” She giggled, letting her shirt ride up even further as she got up and headed for the galley. “I’ll get the food if you want to get the boat ready.”

The moon sat high in the sky when Jenny gave him a final kiss and let her body settle down over his. He could hear the sea slapping against the hull of the boat over their labored breathing, and tasted her sweat as he kissed her neck and ran his fingers through her thick hair.

“That was nice.” Her voice was the wind’s whisper over the waves.

“Yeah.” He smiled, feeling her body against his, still moving with the rise and fall of the ocean around them. The words seemed to stick in his throat, and then found their way out. “I love you Jenny. So damned much.”

“I love you, too, Sonny. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life.”

“No one’s gonna take that away from us. I promise you that.”

He could feel her smile, but she didn’t want to lose contact with his body and stayed on him. Not that he minded. Jenny was an incredible lover, her passion rising from someplace deep inside and spilling over them like a tsunami. “No,” she said, echoing him. But there was something in her voice that gave him pause. Something familiar. “No, they won’t.”

“We should probably head back soon.”

“Yes, but not quite yet.”

He felt her start to move again. “No, I guess not.”

[mjcmmv]

And when will  El Unidad make the connection between Burnett/Crockett and The Task Force? That should be interesting. 

I like seeing Castillo taking an active role. I remember what a good shot he was when he took out Fernandez in Borrasca. 

Good chapter!

[Robbie C.]

Thanks for hanging in there with it!

[Matt5]

Great stuff - Thankyou pal!