Breaking Point Part XXI

[Robbie C.]

The hanger door was half-open, letting the music roll out onto the hot tarmac runway. The chords were familiar yet somehow different, but Sonny wasn’t enough of a music head to make out much of anything. That had always been Rico’s department. Instead he crossed the runway, feeling the heat bleed through the soles of his shoes, and stepped into the relative cool of the hanger’s shade.

Jimmy Cole was right where he’d been the first time Sonny had laid eyes on him…playing an electric guitar. But this time he was up on a basket lift. The second pilot, stockier and with darker hair, sat in a folding lawn chair in front of a blue and white Huey, a can of beer in his hand and sunglasses covering his eyes. Jackson Crane didn’t look to have changed a bit, either.

Jimmy stopped in mid-solo, the echoes chasing each other out into the heat before dying in the thick, wet air. “Well I’ll be Goddamned. Sonny Crockett.”

Crane took a deep drink of his beer. “And Rico Tubbs. Last time I saw you two it led straight to trouble.”

“That goes double for me. Got the shit shot out of myself in some Columbian shithole. You know how much money I lost because of that, Crockett?”

“Not as much as you both stand to get paid now. And clean records to boot.” Sonny looked from one man to the other, pulling off his Ray Bans and grinning.

“Yeah, you said that last time.”

“No, Crane. I said if you checked back with me I’d wipe things clean. You never checked back. But this time it’s a lock if you work with us. From the Federal level.”

Jimmy killed the power on the Marshall stack and climbed down from his perch. Even at a distance Sonny could tell he didn’t move as smoothly as he had before Columbia. “What makes you two think we need your business?”

“Oh, something about the cobwebs growing on those rotor blades.” Rico chuckled. “That and the fact you two chumps are living in your own hanger. I can see those cots back there.”

“Yeah, well, the trade ain’t quite what it used to be.” Crane killed his beer and tossed the empty can in the general direction of a pile of others. “Choppers don’t carry the weight fixed wing can, and our overhead’s higher.”

“I hear the market’s getting harder to work in, too.” Sonny walked over and stopped just in front of Crane’s chair. “Kinda like those heads floating into the harbor.”

Jimmy nodded, pulling a beer out of the cooler beside Crane’s chair. “Yeah. It’s no easy thing down there these days. Not with that Ocho tax going on. Man, they want twenty percent. Off the top. Our margins don’t carry that. So here we are.”

Crane fished out another beer. “So you said you got a proposition for us. What is it?”

Sonny looked at Rico. “Here’s the deal. We need two combat-experienced lift pilots for an operation. Don’t know exactly when it’s going down, but it should be in the next couple of weeks. What units were you guys with?”

Crane grinned. “Puking Buzzards all the way. 101st Airborne for you, Tubbs. 158^th Aviation Battalion, Company A.”

Jimmy shook his head. “Damned cherry. I was with Bravo Company, 229^th Aviation Battalion. First Cav.”

Sonny nodded. “Tell me, Jackson. You ever go over the fence?”

“Maybe…”

“Good. See, we need two experienced lift guys. Odds are we’re gonna have to take down some bad guys on one of those islands the rich punks like to buy up just offshore. We can’t get our own air, but we are gonna have some guys coming along with us. That means two slicks.”

“And let me guess…these guys you’re visiting don’t want company?”

“Something like that, Jimmy. But here’s the kicker. You heard of Ocho I take it?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yeah. They’re some nasty bastards.”

Crane drained his beer and sent the can in the same direction as the last one before opening another. “You weren’t with me when I made that run down to El Rojo, Jimmy. They got there before I was supposed to take delivery. They used fucking heads to make a figure eight in the town square. Right outside the damned church! They ain’t just nasty, brother. They’re evil.”

“I heard about El Rojo. Didn’t know you were there, man.”

“Not something I brag about. But you can bet I got the hell out of there most ricky tick. Ain’t set foot down there since.”

“Well…the boys we’re visiting might just be the command staff of Ocho.” Ignoring Rico’s raised eyebrows Sonny gave the two pilots a short version of Unit 8’s history. “They’re military-trained, which is why they’re so damned good at what they do. But they aren’t bringing that shit here. Not without paying a price bigger than they’ve ever paid before.”

Crane looked from Sonny to Rico and back. “Let me get this straight. You’re gonna go find those psychos and drop in on ‘em with some commando boys who might be like those ones I used to lift to places we never were over there? And you’re gonna fuck ‘em up really bad?”

“That’s the general idea.”

Crane finished his beer in one long swallow. “Fuck it. I’m in.”

Jimmy raised his hands. “Wait, man. We don’t have the price. Nothing about records.”

“Fuck it, man. You didn’t see that village. I did. This works even half as well as Crockett here thinks, those bastards won’t be doing that to anyone else. As far as I’m concerned that’s a damned good thing.”

Sonny turned to Jimmy. “Look, man. I know our last trip didn’t work out like you’d hoped. This is straight business. We can’t get air support anywhere else. Too many people want to be able to say they didn’t know if things go bad. But you’ll get a hundred grand each, half up front and half when we get back. And your records will be clean as a whistle.”

Rico nodded. “We ain’t just Metro-Dade these days, boys.”

Jimmy looked from the two cops to Crane, who just nodded and opened another beer. Finally he shrugged. “Fuck it. I’m in.”

Sonny grinned. “Knew you couldn’t say no. Now what birds do you have?”

Jimmy waved his hand. “The two D-model Hueys. They got range and lift to get sixteen guys in full gear up to maybe 60 miles offshore and back with some loiter time. We got no firepower, though.”

Sonny’s grin was as thin as a tail rotor blade. “Let us worry about that. Just keep those birds fueled and ready. When this goes down it’ll be moving fast. And I expect you might want to practice a time or two with the assault unit.”

Jimmy nodded, his eyes already hooded with fuel and distance calculations. Crane, on the other hand, pushed himself out of his chair with a grunt. “Back in the saddle. Gotta say it feels good, Crockett. And if I can help fuck up the bastards who did El Rojo I figure it just might get me some of Jimmy’s precious karma back.”

They were back in the car and heading for the highway when Rico spoke again. “You think those two can pull it off?”

“Hell, yes. Those were good units they flew with, and if you made it through your tour it meant you knew your shit.” Sonny’s knuckles went pale on the Ferrari wheel. “And Jackson? He wants this. I mean really wants this.”

“Can’t say as I blame him. You think he knew people in that village?”

“Odds are he was carrying medicine or something down to them. Dude always had a do-gooder streak in him no matter what he said. So yeah, it wasn’t just a random thing for him.”

Rico nodded, but Sonny could still sense his doubt. “You really think we can pull this off?”

“I don’t see us having a choice, Rico. These guys are Calderone on speed. We can’t let ‘em get set up here.”

“I’m just worried we don’t have enough firepower.”

Sonny looked out the window and steered the Ferrari onto the highway, accelerating into the flow of traffic. “If Castillo says he’s bring in serious shooters, I believe him. I just wish we could check on Dave without tipping our hand. I miss the big lug.”

“Yeah. Even though he never says much. You think Unit 8 will move on him?”

“Naw. At least I wouldn’t. He’s worth more to them as fixed bait, and if we’re not biting they might break off their surveillance but that’s all.” Sonny downshifted and shot past a line of cars dawdling in the summer heat. “I just hope Castillo can get his reinforcements here quick. I don’t want to stall Unit 8 too long. Time is something we don’t have.”

 

Eduardo Salazar looked from Hidalgo’s face to his notes and back again. “You’re sure you only saw Burnett and Jefferson?”

“Si, captain. But I also didn’t have a view of many of the buildings. That was supposed to be my cover team’s job.”

“They reported seeing nothing, either.”

“Ah. But there were places farther back these men could have been. It would explain why they didn’t see me but could see them.”

“But you’re still certain?”

“As much as I can be, sir. I saw no one in close. Just Burnett and this Jefferson. Burnett didn’t even have security with him.”

“He did in a sense. This Jefferson has quite a record according to our new friend downtown.”

“They didn’t seem concerned about my warning.”

“Burnett is a businessman. He will always show strength first. But I’m sure he’s weighing everything you said against what he knows of the business. It may take him a day or two, but he will see reason.” Salazar made another note on his pad. “You’re dismissed, corporal. Good work.”

Once the room was clear he leaned back in his chair and sighed. Colonel Delacruz was still out of communication, and would be for at least another day. Maybe more. In a way he was glad. It gave him time to work out a deal with Burnett without more bloodshed. Salazar had no problem with bloodshed. He’d proven that at El Rojo. But it had to serve a purpose, have some kind of meaning. Otherwise it was no good.

Flipping back, he read over the report from Felix and Antonio. What interest would the Task Force have in Burnett? And why would they have another unit do their surveillance for them? Were they overextended? Working elsewhere? But that interest gave Burnett additional meaning, and another reason for him to hold off on any action until they could talk to the colonel again. If the Task Force was watching Burnett, he was live bait.

Shifting in his chair, Salazar felt a pang of longing. Sissy had been excellent last night. His reward to himself for things going according to plan. Perhaps fucking an informant was a sign of weakness, but it also allowed him to keep her close and her mercenary urges in check. As far as she knew they were just another South American crew working the powder trade. But there was always the chance…

Cursing, he hit the button on his Radio Shack wonder. “Send in Lieutenant Orozco. I have a task for him.”

 

“Captain! Sonny! I think we got something!”

Sonny looked up from his report at the sound of Trudy’s voice. They’d come back to a quiet office, members of the team in their own spaces working on projects, so he’d started drafting a report on the meeting with the pilots and a request for the money they’d need. But there was excitement in her voice, and he came out of his chair with a smile. “What you got, Trudy?”

“I think we found the island they’re using. You were right. It’s just outside territorial waters, but has a big house, some guest cottages, and a helipad and docks. Someone tried to run a bed and breakfast out there but went broke. It sat for a couple of years and then got bought up about six months ago.” She smiled. “By a shell company out of Panama that’s controlled by another shell company from Columbia. I can’t follow it past that with what we have.” Walking to smaller-scale map of the region she looked at her notes and ran coordinates, finally circling something with a pencil. “Here. Someone named it Isla de las Arenas Rojas.”

Castillo nodded. “Island of the Red Sands.”

“They come up with that name?” Rico snorted as he stared at the map.

“No. It was named by some Spanish explorer back in the 1600s.” Trudy looked at her notes. “I guess the place has seriously white sand, and he saw it around sunrise.”

“So the sand was red.” Sonny walked over to the map, using his palm as a rough scale. “Yeah, it’s in easy Huey range.”

Castillo looked up. “So your meeting went well?”

“Yeah. Just typing up the report now. Crane and Cole will do it, but it’s not cheap. Two hundred grand for the pair; half up front and the other half when we get back.”

“Done. I’ll make the arrangements with Chief Deputy Washington. And the team should be here by sundown today.”

Rico turned. “Anything you can tell us about these guys?”

“No. But I know the team leader from Laos.”

“The one who got us the Maynard tape, right?”

“Yes. His code name back then was Moneybags. I suspect it still is. He’s one of the best, and anyone on his team will have to meet his standards.”

Sonny nodded, his thoughts turning to other parts of the puzzle. If Marty says they’re good that’s good enough for me. “Stan? You got any more of those Task Force tapes?”

“Yeah. We can put together just about anything you need, Sonny.”

“Good. I want you to run some while we’re not in the field. Stuff hiting at us keeping tabs on Burnett. I want to make him valuable to Unit 8. More than he is now.”

“Copy that. I got some ideas, and Lester does, too. Still Metro-Dade, though?”

“For now.” He turned back to Tudy. “Anything on that girl yet?”

“No, and Gina’s people don’t have a line on her, either. She just dropped off the face of the earth.”

Sonny shook his head. “Let’s hope she drops back on in one piece and still breathing.”

“Why wouldn’t she?”

“She was close to two guys Unit 8 has taken out - Pancho and Carrera. Maybe she ratted them out. I don’t know. But these guys don’t like loose ends, and she’s one hell of a loose end.”

 

Orozco felt the familiar warmth in his chest as he looked out the window of the unremarkable Chevy sedan. “How much further?”

“Not far, sir. Maybe ten minutes.” The driver shot a quick glance in the rear view mirror before focusing back on the road.

“They are sure she’s here?”

“Si. A team has been watching the hotel. She hasn’t left since she came back this morning.”

“Good.” He turned to the passenger. “Let them know they’re to take her if she tries to leave.” The man nodded and raised his hand radio.

In truth the order hadn’t been unexpected. The girl had turned on her two protectors, and he knew Salazar would never trust someone with that background. He didn’t blame the man for having some fun first. He planned on doing the same thing. There was also a logic in his other order: make the damned thing look like her pimp killed her. This isn’t a message, lieutenant.

He leaned back against the seat, feeling a puff of cool air from the car’s laboring air conditioner. Not that he minded the heat. Even the humidity wasn’t as bad as some of the forests he’d fought through. But he’d also learned to savor comforts when they came, and the air conditioning was no exception. The gun biting at his skin under the waistband of his pants was enough of a reminder of the work ahead.

They turned into the cheap motel parking lot and found a spot shaded by the second floor of the rows of rooms. The radio crackled to life as soon as the car stopped moving, and the passenger acknowledged and gave a quick order. “She’s in room 229. They say she should be alone. I told them to come over.”

“Excellent. We move as soon as they’re in position.” He met the driver’s gaze in the rear view mirror. “You keep watch here. Use the radio if any police appear.” He chuckled, looking around the deserted parking lot and the few rust buckets parked in spots in front of ground floor rooms. “I doubt anyone else will disturb us.” He felt the tug in his loins again. “Even if we have to make this quick.”

 

The call came in just after four, and Sonny and Rico pulled into the parking lot of Flamingo Acres right at four fifteen. Heat waves rose from the cracked asphalt lot, and a swarm of patrol cars decorated the walls with flashes of red and blue. A dark coroner’s station wagon was backed up to the foot of the stairs, and a green crime scene van had already unleaded its cargo.

Sonny took the stairs two at a time, his Ray Bans guarding his eyes from the stabbing sunlight. Rico kept pace, having traded Marcus’s street gear for his usual Armani combinations. They flashed their marshal’s badges to the uniform cop outside the crime tape and ducked into the room.

Baker looked up from the bed. “What is it with you dudes and bodies?”

“I was about to ask you the same question, man. What the hell happened here?”

“We got the message to be on the lookout for Sissy. Problem is, someone else found her first.” Barker nodded toward the plastic sheet draped over the bed. “Someone raped the hell out of her and then beat her to death with what could have been a baseball bat. The crime scene boys are taking their Polaroids now.”

“How many got to her?”

“Won’t know until the ME takes his turn in line.” Baker shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Bad taste.”

“You could say that, chump.” Sonny knew Rico’s eyes were flashing behind his sunglasses. “Who do you think got to her?”

“Well, she ain’t cut into eight pieces or anything Voodoo like that. I’d say her pimp got pissed she wasn’t kicking in his share and decided to cash her check.” He grinned. “OCB said they were sending someone, but…”

“Yeah, I ain’t holding my breath either.” Sonny looked around the room. It looked like her pimp might have taken her out, but something just didn’t feel right. Catching Rico’s attention, he nodded toward the bathroom. “Care if we take a look around?”

Baker waved his hand. “Go for it. Crime Scene’s done in there, anyhow. Not much to see aside from a fuck-ton of makeup and one of those glass pipes the crackheads favor. Don’t look like she used it much, though.”

Once away from the knot of men, Rico leaned in. “What did you see that they didn’t?”

“We worked Vice a long time, man. A LONG time. You ever seen a pimp take out one of his girls and leave the room this spotless?”

“You’re right. They usually smash the girl’s stuff. Trash the room. Something to show how powerful they are before they do her in. A warning to the others in his stable.”

“But this place looks better than it would when the dump’s housekeeping staff comes through.” Sonny looked at the glass pipe through the clear bag it had been inventoried in. “And that pipe don’t look used, does it?”

“No. And I bet if we check her over we won’t find burns on her lips or fingers. All those bottles? Sissy was a speed freak.”

“Don’t say anything to Baker. We’ll walk out, play dumb, and be on our way.” He felt cold fingers run down his spine. “And hope like hell Unit 8 doesn’t have this place staked out. We might have fucked up bad, partner.”

“You think they’d risk it with this many cops around? Especially during broad daylight?”

“I don’t know. They might if they knew we knew about the girl. But if they think we have no clue, this might just be them tying off a loose end.”

“And least we took one of the junker unmarked units.”

“Yeah. There is that.” Sonny sighed. “All we can do is hope we got lucky and keep going.” He checked his watch. “And we’d better get back. Castillo said those friends of his would be by before six.”

Castillo listened to their report without looking up. “You think Unit 8 killed her.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes. No pimp leaves the room looking that good. And why try to stage her as a junkie?” Sonny looked out the wide windows. “No, she knew something. Or they thought she knew something and took steps to make sure she never told anyone.”

“I shouldn’t have sent you two. That’s on me.”

Rico spoke up. “No, captain. It was a lead that needed to be checked. Besides, we took the ugly green Ford and didn’t get much exposure. If they were watching, and it’s a big if, they’d have a hard time connecting us to Burnett and Marcus. I ain’t sporting his threads this afternoon.”

Sonny looked down at his own light blue blazer and chuckled. “Burnett wouldn’t be caught dead in this outfit. Might buy us some time if they were watching.” He looked at his watch. “When are your friends coming in?”

“Switek is picking them up now.” Castillo looked at his watch. “They’ll be here within the hour. The second group might not arrive until tomorrow.”

“Second group?”

“Yes. Airborne surveillance specialists. Once Unit 8 comes on the air they can find the base station.”

Sonny smiled. “Then we’ve got ‘em.”

Lights were starting to come on across the city when the elevator doors hissed open and Stan came out followed by six men carrying what looked like gear bags. Sonny gave them a quick once-over, seeing an assortment of guys with shaggy hair. Some sported mustaches. All looked to be at least thirty, and moved with assurance of men who knew what they were about.

The oldest came to a halt in front of Castillo and grinned. “Been a few years, Marty.”

Castillo took the offered hand and pulled the man into a quick Latin hug. “That it has, Moneybags. We’re a long way from Laos.”

“In some ways.” Moneybags’ eyes took on a distant look. “Only in some ways.”

“That’s true, my friend.” Castillo took a step back. “These are my people. Sonny Crockett. Ricardo Tubbs. You’ve already met Stan. Mindy O’Laughlin. Lester Franz. Randy Mather. And my wife, Trudy Castillo.”

Moneybags nodded to each in turn. “I’m not trying to be rude, but operational security…”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah, I get it. I was a Marine. So was Randy.”

Moneybags turned to Randy. “I thought that name sounded familiar. You run a mission with Marty and an RT into Laos?” He grinned at the silence. “I thought so. SOG was a small community. Just like the Unit is now.” He turned, nodding to each man in turn. “That’s Hatchet on the left, Toad’s the one built like a beer keg, Fingers is the tall mother, Jester’s on his left, and last but not least we have Casanova.”

Rico grinned. “Don’t get no ideas, Casanova.”

The slender operator with jet black hair and deep brown eyes just chuckled. “Don’t worry, man. You ain’t my type.”

Moneybags cleared his throat. “We just got back from one of those pesky undisclosed locations, so the guys are kinda beat.”

Sonny nodded. “We’ll read you in quick and get you settled. The full briefing can wait until tomorrow. We’ve got some time.” He gave them a quick run-down about Unit 8. “They’ve been stirring things up but good down south from what we can pick up,” he finished. “But we can’t let these bastards get a foothold in Miami or the US.”

Toad nodded. His voice seemed to come from somewhere deep in his barrel chest. “I heard about these bastards. In Columbia. Locals are scared shitless of ‘em. And for good reason. I always wanted to cross paths with them, if you get my drift.”

“You’ll have your chance. We think in addition to the people they have in Miami they’ll be running some kind of jump HQ just outside our territorial waters. Our intel team thinks they’ve got the site located, too. Just a question of fitting in a few pieces now.”

“And then what?” Hatchet asked the question with what sounded like bored detachment. “We go in, watch, and do nothing?”

“No.” Sonny’s voice went all Burnett…cold and flat with no hint of emotion. “We take the fuckers out.”

“On an island?”

“We’ve arranged for two Hueys. Both pilots are Vietnam vets, one from the First Cav and the other from the 101st. The guy from the 101st flew left for SOG more than a couple of times.”

Moneybags nodded. “Then they’ll get us there and back. No question. But this op’s a go?”

Castillo nodded. “Yes. It’s been green lit. And we have total control.”

“Sounds like the Company having one of its messes cleaned up.” Moneybags nodded. “But it gets us out of some damned anti-hijacking exercise.”

Toad spoke again. “And we get to kill some fuckers who need killing. Hell, this is better than going on leave.”

Moneybags turned to his team. “Don’t forget. These assholes were trained by us. The good ol’ U.S. of A. School of the Americas and all that. They’re gonna know their shit.” He turned back to Sonny. “Who’s handling the ones in Miami?”

“Marshal’s Service high-risk warrant teams.”

He nodded. “Good call. Those are some serious dudes.”

Castillo spoke again. “We’ll have some of our people there to coordinate. But we’re stretched thin. One man’s still in the hospital after being shot by a Unit 8 sniper.”

Sonny looked at the men again, still amazed at how relaxed they were. Even SWAT guys tensed up when you started talking raid tactics. But these guys didn’t even blink. “You need us to lock up your gear?”

“Some of it. We’ll keep some smaller arms just in case.”

Randy grinned. “I’ll show you to the armory and you can secure your shit.” Pausing, he looked at Hatchet and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t I know you from 2/5? An Hoa ’69?”

“Echo Company. I thought you looked familiar, shooter.”

“How’d a Jarhead get mixed up with this bunch?”

“Hard work, man.” Hatchet grinned. “Lots of hard work. Let’s get this gear stowed.”

Castillo turned to Moneybags. “We’ve got rooms in three different hotels. Spread them out however you like.” He handed a slip of paper to the Delta Force operator. “The details and names are all there. Use as many of them as you like. The reservations go for a week, and we’ll hold them all open in case you want to move people around. Cars are down in the garage.”

“Yeah, Stan showed us.” Moneybags grinned. “You got damned good tradecraft here, Marty. It’s a pleasure working with professionals again.”

Sonny joined Rico in the background. “I get it, man. These guys are…”

“Way beyond our league. You know, if Unit 8 wasn’t such a bunch of useless bastards I might consider feeling sorry for them.”

“Yeah. But why waste the effort?”

Moneybags looked around, finding Sonny with a glance. “You guys got a good range handy? My boys will want to shoot in tomorrow. And maybe give you a bit of demonstration.”

“Sure, but there’s no…”

“It’s all good, man. I know I’d want to see if the specialists from out of town were worth shit or not. Especially if I was dropping into the lion’s den with them. Besides, my boys will want to see how your people handle themselves, too. Especially the ones going on the assault.”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah. If I was a specialist from out of town I’d want to know if the locals were worth a shit if they were going to cover my back. That should be me, Rico, Randy, and the captain. The others will be covering the Miami end.”

Moneybags nodded. “And we don’t want to overload the Hueys. Good planning, Crockett.” Then he turned back to his men. “I got the hotel roster, gents. Let’s get this shit done and rack out. Tomorrow’s gonna be a busy day.”

[mjcmmv]

This is some team going in against Ocho. Should be interesting when the fireworks start! Great chapter!

[Robbie C.]

I just figured when you care enough to send the very best...

[Matt5]

Yes great piece.

[Robbie C.]

Glad you're still along for the ride.