Breaking Point Part XXII

[Robbie C.]

It was pitch black by the time Sonny made the walk down the dock to Tranquility and climbed aboard. A flickering candle just visible through one of the ports was the only sign of life, and he wondered if Jenny had already gone to bed and just left it burning to welcome him home.

Home. That was an interesting concept for him now. The damned case had consumed most of his time and a good chunk of his attention, and he’d been around less than he liked. That in itself was a new feeling for him. Even with Caitlin the pull of a case had always been too much. But now…he had to force himself away. And even when he was deep in the case, totally consumed by the Burnett mindset, there was still something pulling him back. He just wasn’t sure he said it enough.

She was waiting in the aft berth, a single sheet covering her firm body. “I was wondering when you’d get home.”

“So was I, darlin’.” Sonny dropped his blazer on the leather-covered settee built into the side of the hull. “So was I.”

Jenny sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her high breasts. “You look tired.”

“So do you. Long day?”

“Not really. But busy. Getting the girls settled and into their classes was harder than I thought. And that lawyer showed up. The one you fired. Angie took care of him, though.”

“Do you call the police? He’s got a restraining order.”

Jenny giggled. “She did. He didn’t stick around, though. You’d be proud of her. She did the…what do you call it?”

“Signed a complaint?”

“That’s it.” She giggled again. “I even think she enjoyed it.” Reaching out, she touched his arm. “How was your day?”

“Got some help on the case. Six very bad dudes come to help us kick ass.” He smiled and turned toward the small porthole. “I’ve seen some tough guys in my time. Both in Nam and back here. But these guys…” He groped for words. “They look they could take on anything and come back for seconds.”

“Big like Brick?”

“No. That’s the thing. They look pretty normal. Shaggy hair. Mustaches. But then you hit their eyes and…man…it’s something else. We’re going out shooting with them tomorrow. And there’s a couple more guys coming in from another outfit tomorrow. If they’re anything like Moneybags and his guys…”

“Moneybags.” She smiled.

“Yeah. They all use nicknames. Seemed like they’d been working together for years.” The cop part of his brain kicked in. “There was something about them, though. It was like they could just disappear into any street when they wanted to. And then just come together and mess shit up.”

“Sounds like good guys to have around.”

“Yeah, especially with where we’re going.” He sat down on the bed, feeling her move closer. “I think I’ve got it all planned out, Jenny. As much as I can, anyhow. Once I see these guys shoot I can make some adjustments, and see what the guys coming in tomorrow can add. Sounds like they’re more in Stan and Lester’s territory, though.”

She ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder. “That’s for tomorrow, Sonny.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re right, darlin’.”

Smiling, she slid closer, the sheet pulling down off her body. “All I know is I need you here, now. Seeing those girls…”

“Reminded you of how close you came to being them?” He pulled off his shirt and slid his linen slacks down.

“Yes. Maybe not the streets part, but the being lost part. Just drifting from one mess to the next, thinking I had it all under control.”

“You did sometimes.” He took her in his arms, feeling her warm skin and thick, soft hair.

“I was fooling myself. I didn’t have anything until control until I brought that six pack down to your boat.” She kissed the base of his neck, working her way around to his lips. Pulling him down to her. “Now I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be.”

“Neither can I.” He kissed her again. “Neither can I.”

Morning came far too soon, sunlight creeping across the crumpled sheets until it poked into Sonny’s eyes and jarred him awake. He could feel Jenny curled up against him, and it took all his willpower to shift and swing his feet to the cool wooden deck.

He stood in the master berth’s head, hair still damp from his shower, and contemplated his face in the fogged mirror. There were lines starting to show he hadn’t noticed before, and stray strands of gray in his dirty blonde hair. The Job was starting to catch up with him, or maybe he was just starting to notice. Sonny dressed quickly, pulling on jeans instead of slacks. They’d hold up better for the kind of drills he was expecting at the range.

Jenny had slipped out of bed while he was showering and had coffee and toast waiting in Tranquility’s galley. “I’ve got meetings at Caitlin’s House this morning,” she said as she poured him a cup. “I think Gina might be ready to come on board.”

“Really? When did that happen?”

“We’ve been talking about it for a couple of months.” She let a serious expression form on her face. “If you made more meetings you’d know.”

“I know, darlin’. Is that the engagement position you were talking about?”

“So you do pay attention!” She smiled and touched his hand. “Yes. Angie and I were talking, and she’s a perfect fit for it. She’s coming by today and we’re going to see if she’s interested and how long it might take her to move from her unit to there.”

Sonny nodded, sipping his coffee. “Makes sense. Gina’s got good connections to most local shelters and programs, and she cares about those girls. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as happy at work as she is over there.”

“I know she worries about Stan.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on the big lug. He’s a good cop, but a better man. Dave getting shot tore him up a bit.”

“He feels like it’s his fault.” She shook her head. “It’s not, but he sees it that way. At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.” Her eyes got serious. “You need to bring them all back, Sonny. What these men did to that girl, the others. They’re evil. And so many lives are changing, moving to what they could be.”

“You mean Mindy and Rico?”

“Not just them. All of them.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he’d learned long ago not to doubt her when she sounded like this. “I will, Jenny. You can count on that.”

She smiled, her eyes settling back into their normal sparkle. “Now you’d better get going. If you’re late the new guys won’t respect you.”

Sonny let his mind wander on the drive in, thinking back on what Jenny had said and what he’d been feeling for the last few weeks. And what he’d seen in the mirror. Maybe it was time to get out. He’d been doing this for over fifteen years, and nothing was getting any easier. It had cost him two marriages, his son, God knows how many friends, and almost his sanity after the explosion. There was still Unit 8 to consider, and he had to be at the top of his game, but after that…

When he walked into the conference room Castillo and Stan were sitting at the long table talking with two men who looked more like bush pilots than anything else: lanky with longer hair, aviator glasses, and the battered leather jackets pilots always seemed to use to mark their status and place in their community. The more battered the jacket, the better the pilot. And these guys had jackets that could have come from the Jurassic period.

Castillo looked up. “This is Lieutenant Sonny Crockett. Crockett, meet Red Ball and Slats. Our two communication specialists.”

Sonny nodded. “Another unit that doesn’t exist?”

The one called Red Ball nodded. “More or less. We did some work down South if that’s any help.”

Stan nodded. “They know their shit, Sonny. I’ll bet my signed Heartbreak Hotel single on it.”

Sonny grinned. “And if Stan’s gonna bet anything Elvis-related that means you sold him. And I’m good with that. What’s your role here?”

“Radio direction stuff mostly.” Slats had a deeper voice and darker hair, but looked to have come from the same ‘pilot’ call at central casting. “I keep the rig in the air and he Red Ball works the dials. So long as your boys are on the air we can track them to within about ten feet. Doesn’t matter what they’re using.”

Sonny nodded. “Good. If we can get a fix on their main radio we can use that to vector in other properties and nail these bozos down. How soon can you get started?”

“As soon as we’re done going over the operational parameters. We’ll do a couple of flights to figure out the signals environment, and then stand by for something you know will draw these guys out.”

Stan chuckled. “We got that covered, Slats. You wanna come back to the Tech Room? I’ll give you an overview of what frequencies we’ve heard them on, which ones we’re using, and what to avoid unless you want your ears blasted off with Metro-Dade patrol gossip.”

Sonny waited until the men were in the back room with Stan and an awestruck Lester. “You think these guys can deliver?”

“Moneybags says they can.” Castillo looked straight at Sonny. “They had a hand in the whole Escobar business.”

Sonny whistled. “I thought that was a Columbian deal.”

Castillo allowed him a thin smile. “It was. Officially.”

“Got it. And these guys…”

“Might have been in the area.”

“Just like we weren’t in Laos or Cambodia?”

“Something like that.”

“When’s Moneybags’ team coming in?”

“Any time now. I already spoke with Randy and he’s ready for the range. I think he wants to show these men what he can do.”

Sonny nodded. “I get that, but I’m more interested in what they bring to the table. I wanna know what I’m working with when we plan the assault.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “You think we can get some door guns for those Hueys? I like the idea of having some kind of air support just in case.”

Castillo nodded. “I’m sure Chief Deputy Washington has some reserves from the Holmes raids. And if not, Moneybags should have something.” Something that looked disturbingly like a playful smile flickered across Castillo’s face. “He should be able to after he sees what I have for him at the range.”

Sonny’s eyebrows went up. “What’s that?”

“Something from our shared past.” Castillo looked down, indicating the conversation was over. At least that part of it. “Tubbs is in your office going over some of the intel that’s come in since yesterday. It looks like the Isla de las Arenas Rojas is the target. Deputy O’Laughlin got a report from the Coast Guard indicating there’s been steady boat traffic into the area for the last two days.”

“Good. Confirmation is always a good thing. Tubbs and I can swing by the airfield after the range and let our boys know we have a target location. That way they can start planning the route in and out.”

“You’re sure of those two?”

“As sure as I can be. They’re vets, they know the score, and like I said Crane has a score to settle with Unit 8.” Sonny raised a hand. “Yeah, I know. Vengeance makes people do stupid things. I get it. But both these guys flew in rough AOs for at least a year each. They’re gonna know the score. It’s part of who they are.”

“Yes. The money’s approved, too. Chief Deputy Washington thinks we’re getting a bargain, by the way,. I think he might have confirmed their military records.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Pete’s a careful guy.” Sonny looked around, not sure if he wanted to continue or not. Then his heart answered for his head. “Marty, I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time to go after this one. I know we talked about that before, but it’s really starting to sink in.”

To his surprise, Castillo nodded. “I agree. I…” He paused, and Sonny could see a new kind of pain in the man’s eyes. “I want to have a life with Trudy, Sonny. A real life. Not some shadow of the Job. I’ve never felt that way before.”

“Yeah, I get it, Marty. I really do. I felt that way with Caitlin and didn’t listen to my heart. Look what it got me.” Sonny grinned to hide the pain he knew was flooding his eyes. “I’m not gonna make the same mistake with Jenny. We’ve both seen the bad life can hand out. In spades. We need to take in some of the good while we still have time.”

“I can’t leave them, though.”

“Marty, I think if you go, we all go. Hell, we’ve all been doing this for years. Stan could make three times what he does now just sweeping rich guys’ love nests for bugs. Mindy? She’s smart as hell and could do damned near anything she wants. Rico’s got serious skills and I expect he’s got himself set pretty well. Lester might stay, but only until Stan got his deal up and running. Randy and Dave could always go back to Butte or wherever the hell it is. Or we could all start something new.” Sonny shook his head. “Hell, at the rate Metro-Dade’s been trying to take us down I don’t feel like wasting my time with them any more.”

Castillo nodded. “I’ve not heard another word from Franks, but the chief deputy says he’s still trying to make moves.”

“Of course he is. He’s a petty little shit who’d like nothing more than to take out his most successful cops because they do better than he does. Asshole never wrote more than a parking ticket in his entire career.” Sonny could feel the anger welling up again. “And he won’t stop until he’s got all of us up on some bullshit charge or another.”

“I suspect you’re right.” Sonny’s eyes went wide. It wasn’t like Castillo to agree the department was out to screw its own cops. “He’s intent on making his name, no matter who he has to step on to do it. He’s not sure about how to go after us now, but he’s smart enough to wait until Chief Deputy Washington is either transferred or retires. Then he won’t waste any time.”

Sonny turned that over in his mind. He’d come to the same conclusion as soon as he’d heard Franks was involved, but it was good to hear Castillo agreeing with him.

Castillo nodded. “But we need to focus on taking down Unit 8. I want them so hurt, so beaten, they won’t come near Miami for at least ten years. This will be a clear message to any left alive.”

“And that’s why you brought in Moneybags and his team?”

“Yes. We did need additional manpower. But it needed to be men who would be capable of overpowering Unit 8.”

Before Sonny could reply the outer door opened and Moneybags and the rest of his men came in. They weren’t quite in formation, but that same unity of purpose was obvious if you knew what to look for. Moneybags nodded. “You boys ready to hit the range?”

Castillo nodded. “Let me get Deputy Mather. Crockett, go get Tubbs.”

They took one of the plain gray vans from the Task Force’s small motor pool, negotiating the thinning morning traffic to the range in a sort of silence. Tubbs had also dressed down for the occasion, and Randy looked like he’d stepped off a firing range at Camp Pendleton in his fatigue pants and blouse. When Moneybags raised an eyebrow he just chuckled. “Started feeling all nostalgic and shit,” Randy said.

The handful of Metro-Dade SWAT members clustered on the pistol range cleared out with a barked command from Castillo, and soon they had the place to themselves. Sonny turned to the team and explained. “Randy had a run-in with some of those pukes about a week ago. They’ve been packing attitude ever since.”

Casanova chuckled. “Give us five minutes and they’ll be packing something else entirely.”

Moneybags raised a hand, and Sonny was amazed at how quickly the team fell into line. “We got business first. Do you have a shoot house on this range?”

Castillo nodded. “The building we passed on the way in.”

“Good. We’ll warm up a bit here and then we’ll do the VIP routine. It’s the best way I know to show you what we can do close in.” He turned to Sonny and Rico with a grin. “You two will be the guests of honor. But now let’s get some shooting in. My guys will take lanes one through six and your people should use seven through ten.”

Randy nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes to set up the long range and we can start. I want to get the twelve hundred target ready.”

Jester shook his head. “Twelve hundred?”

“I’ve got kills out to fourteen back in Nam.” Randy’s voice was conversational, but his eyes were flat. “But some of those were more luck. Twelve’s as far as I’ll guarantee with 7.62 NATO.”

Toad’s laugh was a harsh bark. “He’s got you, Jester. Stick to the short game, man.”

Hatchet nodded. “I remember you and your partner from Nam, Randy. And I know you had distance there.”

Moneybags’ voice cut through the chatter. “If we’re through comparing dick sizes, let’s get started. My guys, I want you ready to shoot in five. Clear?”

Sonny settled into lane seven, next to Fingers. So far the man had said almost nothing, but he looked over at Sonny and grinned. “That one of the third gen Smiths?”

“Yeah. 4506-1. I see you guys all use 1911s.”

“Yeah, but I do like the double-action on the first shot of those Smiths. That and they’re loose enough they don’t clog with sand or other shit. Had some problems with the old Colts over in the sandbox.” He eyeballed the stainless steel pistol with appreciation. “You ever get a malfunction with that?”

“Not a one.” Sonny flicked off the safety and checked his target. “How do you guys usually start these sessions?”

Fingers shook his head, his Colt in a two-handed low ready position. He looked down the line, poised like one of the greyhounds Sonny had seen at Izzy’s uncle’s track. Watching Moneybags. The team leader raised his off hand, and then lowered it.

Even with earphones on, Sonny wasn’t ready for the synchronized blast of fire erupting from the first six lanes. The whole team brought their weapons up almost as one, firing two shot controlled groups in split seconds, advancing with each group. It was all coordinated, right down to dumping the empty magazine as soon as the slide locked back, slamming a fresh mag in, and hitting the slide release and starting the sequence again. He looked over at Castillo, who just shook his head. It was the kind of shooting that only came from endless hours of practice and combat experience.

When they were done, Moneybags turned to Castillo, smoke training from the barrel of his .45, the slide locked back on an empty magazine. “Your turn, Marty.”

Castillo nodded, turning to Sonny and Rico. “Let’s do this.” His voice was flat, his hands filled with the big .44 Smith & Wesson magnum.

Sonny locked eyes with Rico. “Think of Maynard,” he whispered loud enough to get through the noise protection. Then he looked over to Castillo and nodded.

Their shooting wasn’t as fluid, or as synchronized, but Sonny though they did damned well. He used his usual two round groups, with Rico spacing his larger magazine to cover first Castillo and then him reloading. Sonny timed his shots to cover Castillo’s reloads as well as Rico’s. Knowing Castillo’s big magnum dropped a target with each boom. Randy tended to fire with Sonny, even though he had one less round.

Moneybags nodded. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” He looked at the rest of his team, scanned their eyes and movements. “I think this will work just fine. We’ll do some work with the carbines and then it’s VIP time.”

Sonny stepped back, watching the team work with carbines and then switching to pistols when they emptied the magazine. Rico stood beside him, watching the drill with wide eyes. “Who the hell are these cats?” he whispered partway through one of the drills.

“I don’t know, but I can say I’ve never seen better.” Sonny shook his head. “But you gotta figure. If Marty knew Moneybags in Nam, the guy’s been doing this for almost twenty-five years. Same for Hatchet. That’s fifty years of combat between two guys.”

Rico’s whistle was low. “Damn. That’s some serious shit.”

Moneybags turned off the shooting with a simple wave of his hand. “Crockett. Tubbs. You’ll want ears and eyes on for this one. Use the sunglasses. Let’s get you set up.”

The shoot house was something Metro-Dade used to practice hostage rescue. Built mostly out of plywood, it held a number of ‘rooms’ and ‘halls’ designed to mimic the kind of places SWAT might be called on to enter with little notice. Moneybags led them through to the center room, with a door and two ‘windows’ added for good measure. “Sit in those chairs,” he said. “Keep your eyes and ears on and don’t move.”

Sonny settled in, noticing a swarm of targets set up around the chairs. “Lots of bad guys,” he said with a dry laugh.

“Yeah. They like you two. But this is the best way to show you what we can do.” Turning, he headed for the door. “Both of you just act like you’re tied up.”

Rico settled into this chair. “Why do I feel like the only black dude at a Klan meeting?”

“Funny. I feel the same way.” Sonny smiled “We gotta assume…”

The door blew in with a crash, followed by a small rolling canister. Before Sonny could move, the flash-bang went off, almost blinding them through their thick sunglasses and the boom ripping through the ear protection. Through the flash Sonny could see the team flowing into the room, muzzle flashes blooming like flowers in the muzzles of their pistols. It wasn’t a jerky SWAT ‘break left, break right’ drill. These men moved with a smoothness he’d never seen before, coming into the room with an ease that seemed natural and unnatural at the same time. And the shots were so fast it reminded him of a machine gun. It all happened so fast he’d just started to shake off the spots from the flash-bang when he heard Moneybags shout “All secure!”

“Shit.” The word came unbidden from Rico’s lips, and Sonny echoed the sentiment. Looking around, he saw each target had at least two holes in either the heart or head. And then it hit him…the team had been using live rounds! He’d thought they were blanks, given how close he and Rico were to the targets and the speed of the entry. He looked down, and his hand was shaking.

“So…what do you think?” Moneybags looked at him over the smoking muzzle of his .45.

“That’s some serious shooting.”

“That was live ammo?” Rico turned to look at the targets like Sonny had.

“Yeah. No better way to show you what we can do.” Casanova grinned. “Don’t worry. We fire more in training in a month than a unit a hundred times our size might in a year.”

Sonny just nodded, not quite trusting his voice. In truth it was the best damned shooting in close quarters he’d ever seen. Turning to Rico, he found his voice. “Let’s get out to the rifle range. Thanks for the show, guys. Color me impressed.”

They regrouped at the long range, finding Randy and Castillo already in position. Hatchet looked down at Randy and nodded. “That your old Nam rifle?”

“Yeah. She found her way back with me.”

Castillo looked up from the spotting scope. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you, Moneybags. Thought you might appreciate it.” Getting to his feet, he pulled a long duffle bag out from under the shooting bench and handed it to the man.

As Sonny watched, Moneybags unzipped the bag and looked inside. A grin spread across his face as he pulled out what looked like a cut-down machine gun. “I’ll be damned! How the the hell did you…never mind. I don’t want to know and you wouldn’t tell me in any case.”

Toad looked over. “That an RPD, boss?”

“Yeah, but cut down. I used to carry one of these in CCN. We’d cut them down to the gas tube, tweak a couple of things, and add on the hundred round drum. I could write my damned name with mind. Accurate as hell and lighter than the M-60.”

Castillo smiled. “And you left yours with Twister, right?”

“I did.” Moneybags looked at the underside of the fore grip. “This is the same damned weapon!”

“I ran into Twister in Da Nang in 1971. He was on his way home and I was…on my way somewhere else. He gave it to me for safe keeping. I always meant to get it to you, and it finally worked out.”

Moneybags just nodded, hefting the exotic weapon. “This’ll give us one hell of an edge when we hit that house or whatever the target is. How many spare drums you got in that bag of tricks?”

“Six. It was all Twister had.” Castillo turned back to the scope. “And now let us show you what we bring to the table.”

Sonny watched as Randy settled in behind the rifle. He waited until Castillo was in position. “Range me. 1410.”

“1410 confirmed. Wind 5 from the east.”

There was no sound on the range except for the metallic clacks of Randy chambering a round. The rifle shifted as he compensated for range and wind, and then the Remington boomed. “Hit.”

“Hit.” Castillo echoed the call.

A second shot. “Hit.”

“Hit.”

And so it went, working from fourteen hundred yards down to six hundred. Randy fired five rounds at each distance, his calls progressing from a simple ‘hit’ to calling a location. And Castillo always echoed the call. Not a sound came from the members of Moneybags’ team, but Sonny watched them exchanging nods and an occasional smile. Randy left the bolt open after his last shot at six hundred yards, letting powder smoke curl from the open breech. “I’ll go get the targets.”

As he puttered down the range in the cart, Jester turned to Hatchet. “How many of those were luck?”

“Not a one. I told you about him, dumbass. Even the ones at 1400 will be center mass.”

“Bet you a beer they aren’t.”

“You’re on.”

Sonny watched Castillo shake his head. “You’d better buy the beer now, then.”

“No one’s that good.”

Sonny chuckled as he saw the cart turn and start back. “No, someone IS that good.”

Jester was still arguing until Randy laid the targets out on the ground. Jester looked, his eyes getting wider as he worked his way from six hundred to seven hundred and on up the line. When he got to the 1400 yard target and saw the ragged cluster of holes in the center mass zone he shrugged. “I stand corrected. You are that damned good, man. Beer’s on me once the op’s over. And Reacher’s gonna be pissed as hell he missed this one.”

“Reacher?”

Jester turned to Sonny. “One of the snipers who usually works with our team. The Unit has Assault Teams and Sniper Teams. He was the best shooter I’d know until today.”

Hatchet looked at the targets. “They say you stopped shooting in Nam about halfway through your tour.”

“Yeah. But these assholes shot my partner. I got scores to settle.”

“Fair enough.”

A blast of automatic weapon fire cut into the discussion. Sonny turned to see Moneybags two lanes over, a big grin on his face and smoke curling from the muzzle of his cut-down RPD. “She still works like a damned dream. Let’s run through a couple more drills and see if we can work this into our usual assault drill. It about doubles our initial firepower.”

Sonny mostly watched as the team spent the rest of the morning honing assault and reaction drills based around the firepower of Moneybags’ ‘new’ weapon. Rico stood next to him, not saying much aside from an occasional muttered compliment. “They’re something to watch, aren’t they?” Sonny asked to break the silence.

“Yeah. Reminds me of how our time’s passing, partner.”

“I was talking to Marty about that earlier, Rico. Jenny kinda brought it up last night, and I can’t stop thinking about it. We close this one out, and I might be done.”

“Same here, man. Me and Mindy…I got a future now. And I didn’t see that before. It changes things.”

“Tell me about it. How I got a third chance I’ll never know, but I’m not gonna mess it up. And with Franks sniffing around it’s only a matter of time before they find something to screw us with.” He looked over at the team running through another reaction drill. “But we gotta finish this one first. I wasn’t sure how before, but watching these guys I think we can wipe Unit 8 off the face of the earth.”

“What’s the plan once they’re done?”

“We’re gonna run out and talk to the pilots again. Pete cleared the payment. And now we’ve got a location and load out. Castillo thinks we might even be able to get door guns.” Sonny slipped on his sunglasses. “And then I just gotta make a call or two and get those bastards riled up enough to send out their sniper. Give Randy a chance to square things and take away one of their advantages.”

“You think those other two cats are gonna be of use?”

“Yeah, I do. If they can track transmissions like they say, we’ll have a solid fix on Unit 8 in Miami almost as soon as they come on the air. The trick’s gonna be when to kick things off. We can’t give them time to react once the shooting starts. If they get a chance, they’ll either take down a bunch of innocent people or go into hiding and hit back later. We can’t let them do either one.”

[Matt5]

7 hours ago, Robbie C. said:

It was pitch black by the time Sonny made the walk down the dock to Tranquility and climbed aboard. A flickering candle just visible through one of the ports was the only sign of life, and he wondered if Jenny had already gone to bed and just left it burning to welcome him home.

Home. That was an interesting concept for him now. The damned case had consumed most of his time and a good chunk of his attention, and he’d been around less than he liked. That in itself was a new feeling for him. Even with Caitlin the pull of a case had always been too much. But now…he had to force himself away. And even when he was deep in the case, totally consumed by the Burnett mindset, there was still something pulling him back. He just wasn’t sure he said it enough.

She was waiting in the aft berth, a single sheet covering her firm body. “I was wondering when you’d get home.”

“So was I, darlin’.” Sonny dropped his blazer on the leather-covered settee built into the side of the hull. “So was I.”

Jenny sat up, letting the sheet fall away from her high breasts. “You look tired.”

“So do you. Long day?”

“Not really. But busy. Getting the girls settled and into their classes was harder than I thought. And that lawyer showed up. The one you fired. Angie took care of him, though.”

“Do you call the police? He’s got a restraining order.”

Jenny giggled. “She did. He didn’t stick around, though. You’d be proud of her. She did the…what do you call it?”

“Signed a complaint?”

“That’s it.” She giggled again. “I even think she enjoyed it.” Reaching out, she touched his arm. “How was your day?”

“Got some help on the case. Six very bad dudes come to help us kick ass.” He smiled and turned toward the small porthole. “I’ve seen some tough guys in my time. Both in Nam and back here. But these guys…” He groped for words. “They look they could take on anything and come back for seconds.”

“Big like Brick?”

“No. That’s the thing. They look pretty normal. Shaggy hair. Mustaches. But then you hit their eyes and…man…it’s something else. We’re going out shooting with them tomorrow. And there’s a couple more guys coming in from another outfit tomorrow. If they’re anything like Moneybags and his guys…”

“Moneybags.” She smiled.

“Yeah. They all use nicknames. Seemed like they’d been working together for years.” The cop part of his brain kicked in. “There was something about them, though. It was like they could just disappear into any street when they wanted to. And then just come together and mess shit up.”

“Sounds like good guys to have around.”

“Yeah, especially with where we’re going.” He sat down on the bed, feeling her move closer. “I think I’ve got it all planned out, Jenny. As much as I can, anyhow. Once I see these guys shoot I can make some adjustments, and see what the guys coming in tomorrow can add. Sounds like they’re more in Stan and Lester’s territory, though.”

She ran her hand up his arm to his shoulder. “That’s for tomorrow, Sonny.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her hand. “You’re right, darlin’.”

Smiling, she slid closer, the sheet pulling down off her body. “All I know is I need you here, now. Seeing those girls…”

“Reminded you of how close you came to being them?” He pulled off his shirt and slid his linen slacks down.

“Yes. Maybe not the streets part, but the being lost part. Just drifting from one mess to the next, thinking I had it all under control.”

“You did sometimes.” He took her in his arms, feeling her warm skin and thick, soft hair.

“I was fooling myself. I didn’t have anything until control until I brought that six pack down to your boat.” She kissed the base of his neck, working her way around to his lips. Pulling him down to her. “Now I can’t think of anyplace else I’d rather be.”

“Neither can I.” He kissed her again. “Neither can I.”

Morning came far too soon, sunlight creeping across the crumpled sheets until it poked into Sonny’s eyes and jarred him awake. He could feel Jenny curled up against him, and it took all his willpower to shift and swing his feet to the cool wooden deck.

He stood in the master berth’s head, hair still damp from his shower, and contemplated his face in the fogged mirror. There were lines starting to show he hadn’t noticed before, and stray strands of gray in his dirty blonde hair. The Job was starting to catch up with him, or maybe he was just starting to notice. Sonny dressed quickly, pulling on jeans instead of slacks. They’d hold up better for the kind of drills he was expecting at the range.

Jenny had slipped out of bed while he was showering and had coffee and toast waiting in Tranquility’s galley. “I’ve got meetings at Caitlin’s House this morning,” she said as she poured him a cup. “I think Gina might be ready to come on board.”

“Really? When did that happen?”

“We’ve been talking about it for a couple of months.” She let a serious expression form on her face. “If you made more meetings you’d know.”

“I know, darlin’. Is that the engagement position you were talking about?”

“So you do pay attention!” She smiled and touched his hand. “Yes. Angie and I were talking, and she’s a perfect fit for it. She’s coming by today and we’re going to see if she’s interested and how long it might take her to move from her unit to there.”

Sonny nodded, sipping his coffee. “Makes sense. Gina’s got good connections to most local shelters and programs, and she cares about those girls. Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as happy at work as she is over there.”

“I know she worries about Stan.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on the big lug. He’s a good cop, but a better man. Dave getting shot tore him up a bit.”

“He feels like it’s his fault.” She shook her head. “It’s not, but he sees it that way. At least it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.” Her eyes got serious. “You need to bring them all back, Sonny. What these men did to that girl, the others. They’re evil. And so many lives are changing, moving to what they could be.”

“You mean Mindy and Rico?”

“Not just them. All of them.”

He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he’d learned long ago not to doubt her when she sounded like this. “I will, Jenny. You can count on that.”

She smiled, her eyes settling back into their normal sparkle. “Now you’d better get going. If you’re late the new guys won’t respect you.”

Sonny let his mind wander on the drive in, thinking back on what Jenny had said and what he’d been feeling for the last few weeks. And what he’d seen in the mirror. Maybe it was time to get out. He’d been doing this for over fifteen years, and nothing was getting any easier. It had cost him two marriages, his son, God knows how many friends, and almost his sanity after the explosion. There was still Unit 8 to consider, and he had to be at the top of his game, but after that…

When he walked into the conference room Castillo and Stan were sitting at the long table talking with two men who looked more like bush pilots than anything else: lanky with longer hair, aviator glasses, and the battered leather jackets pilots always seemed to use to mark their status and place in their community. The more battered the jacket, the better the pilot. And these guys had jackets that could have come from the Jurassic period.

Castillo looked up. “This is Lieutenant Sonny Crockett. Crockett, meet Red Ball and Slats. Our two communication specialists.”

Sonny nodded. “Another unit that doesn’t exist?”

The one called Red Ball nodded. “More or less. We did some work down South if that’s any help.”

Stan nodded. “They know their shit, Sonny. I’ll bet my signed Heartbreak Hotel single on it.”

Sonny grinned. “And if Stan’s gonna bet anything Elvis-related that means you sold him. And I’m good with that. What’s your role here?”

“Radio direction stuff mostly.” Slats had a deeper voice and darker hair, but looked to have come from the same ‘pilot’ call at central casting. “I keep the rig in the air and he Red Ball works the dials. So long as your boys are on the air we can track them to within about ten feet. Doesn’t matter what they’re using.”

Sonny nodded. “Good. If we can get a fix on their main radio we can use that to vector in other properties and nail these bozos down. How soon can you get started?”

“As soon as we’re done going over the operational parameters. We’ll do a couple of flights to figure out the signals environment, and then stand by for something you know will draw these guys out.”

Stan chuckled. “We got that covered, Slats. You wanna come back to the Tech Room? I’ll give you an overview of what frequencies we’ve heard them on, which ones we’re using, and what to avoid unless you want your ears blasted off with Metro-Dade patrol gossip.”

Sonny waited until the men were in the back room with Stan and an awestruck Lester. “You think these guys can deliver?”

“Moneybags says they can.” Castillo looked straight at Sonny. “They had a hand in the whole Escobar business.”

Sonny whistled. “I thought that was a Columbian deal.”

Castillo allowed him a thin smile. “It was. Officially.”

“Got it. And these guys…”

“Might have been in the area.”

“Just like we weren’t in Laos or Cambodia?”

“Something like that.”

“When’s Moneybags’ team coming in?”

“Any time now. I already spoke with Randy and he’s ready for the range. I think he wants to show these men what he can do.”

Sonny nodded. “I get that, but I’m more interested in what they bring to the table. I wanna know what I’m working with when we plan the assault.” He scratched the stubble on his chin. “You think we can get some door guns for those Hueys? I like the idea of having some kind of air support just in case.”

Castillo nodded. “I’m sure Chief Deputy Washington has some reserves from the Holmes raids. And if not, Moneybags should have something.” Something that looked disturbingly like a playful smile flickered across Castillo’s face. “He should be able to after he sees what I have for him at the range.”

Sonny’s eyebrows went up. “What’s that?”

“Something from our shared past.” Castillo looked down, indicating the conversation was over. At least that part of it. “Tubbs is in your office going over some of the intel that’s come in since yesterday. It looks like the Isla de las Arenas Rojas is the target. Deputy O’Laughlin got a report from the Coast Guard indicating there’s been steady boat traffic into the area for the last two days.”

“Good. Confirmation is always a good thing. Tubbs and I can swing by the airfield after the range and let our boys know we have a target location. That way they can start planning the route in and out.”

“You’re sure of those two?”

“As sure as I can be. They’re vets, they know the score, and like I said Crane has a score to settle with Unit 8.” Sonny raised a hand. “Yeah, I know. Vengeance makes people do stupid things. I get it. But both these guys flew in rough AOs for at least a year each. They’re gonna know the score. It’s part of who they are.”

“Yes. The money’s approved, too. Chief Deputy Washington thinks we’re getting a bargain, by the way,. I think he might have confirmed their military records.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Pete’s a careful guy.” Sonny looked around, not sure if he wanted to continue or not. Then his heart answered for his head. “Marty, I’ve been thinking…maybe it’s time to go after this one. I know we talked about that before, but it’s really starting to sink in.”

To his surprise, Castillo nodded. “I agree. I…” He paused, and Sonny could see a new kind of pain in the man’s eyes. “I want to have a life with Trudy, Sonny. A real life. Not some shadow of the Job. I’ve never felt that way before.”

“Yeah, I get it, Marty. I really do. I felt that way with Caitlin and didn’t listen to my heart. Look what it got me.” Sonny grinned to hide the pain he knew was flooding his eyes. “I’m not gonna make the same mistake with Jenny. We’ve both seen the bad life can hand out. In spades. We need to take in some of the good while we still have time.”

“I can’t leave them, though.”

“Marty, I think if you go, we all go. Hell, we’ve all been doing this for years. Stan could make three times what he does now just sweeping rich guys’ love nests for bugs. Mindy? She’s smart as hell and could do damned near anything she wants. Rico’s got serious skills and I expect he’s got himself set pretty well. Lester might stay, but only until Stan got his deal up and running. Randy and Dave could always go back to Butte or wherever the hell it is. Or we could all start something new.” Sonny shook his head. “Hell, at the rate Metro-Dade’s been trying to take us down I don’t feel like wasting my time with them any more.”

Castillo nodded. “I’ve not heard another word from Franks, but the chief deputy says he’s still trying to make moves.”

“Of course he is. He’s a petty little shit who’d like nothing more than to take out his most successful cops because they do better than he does. Asshole never wrote more than a parking ticket in his entire career.” Sonny could feel the anger welling up again. “And he won’t stop until he’s got all of us up on some bullshit charge or another.”

“I suspect you’re right.” Sonny’s eyes went wide. It wasn’t like Castillo to agree the department was out to screw its own cops. “He’s intent on making his name, no matter who he has to step on to do it. He’s not sure about how to go after us now, but he’s smart enough to wait until Chief Deputy Washington is either transferred or retires. Then he won’t waste any time.”

Sonny turned that over in his mind. He’d come to the same conclusion as soon as he’d heard Franks was involved, but it was good to hear Castillo agreeing with him.

Castillo nodded. “But we need to focus on taking down Unit 8. I want them so hurt, so beaten, they won’t come near Miami for at least ten years. This will be a clear message to any left alive.”

“And that’s why you brought in Moneybags and his team?”

“Yes. We did need additional manpower. But it needed to be men who would be capable of overpowering Unit 8.”

Before Sonny could reply the outer door opened and Moneybags and the rest of his men came in. They weren’t quite in formation, but that same unity of purpose was obvious if you knew what to look for. Moneybags nodded. “You boys ready to hit the range?”

Castillo nodded. “Let me get Deputy Mather. Crockett, go get Tubbs.”

They took one of the plain gray vans from the Task Force’s small motor pool, negotiating the thinning morning traffic to the range in a sort of silence. Tubbs had also dressed down for the occasion, and Randy looked like he’d stepped off a firing range at Camp Pendleton in his fatigue pants and blouse. When Moneybags raised an eyebrow he just chuckled. “Started feeling all nostalgic and shit,” Randy said.

The handful of Metro-Dade SWAT members clustered on the pistol range cleared out with a barked command from Castillo, and soon they had the place to themselves. Sonny turned to the team and explained. “Randy had a run-in with some of those pukes about a week ago. They’ve been packing attitude ever since.”

Casanova chuckled. “Give us five minutes and they’ll be packing something else entirely.”

Moneybags raised a hand, and Sonny was amazed at how quickly the team fell into line. “We got business first. Do you have a shoot house on this range?”

Castillo nodded. “The building we passed on the way in.”

“Good. We’ll warm up a bit here and then we’ll do the VIP routine. It’s the best way I know to show you what we can do close in.” He turned to Sonny and Rico with a grin. “You two will be the guests of honor. But now let’s get some shooting in. My guys will take lanes one through six and your people should use seven through ten.”

Randy nodded. “Give me a couple of minutes to set up the long range and we can start. I want to get the twelve hundred target ready.”

Jester shook his head. “Twelve hundred?”

“I’ve got kills out to fourteen back in Nam.” Randy’s voice was conversational, but his eyes were flat. “But some of those were more luck. Twelve’s as far as I’ll guarantee with 7.62 NATO.”

Toad’s laugh was a harsh bark. “He’s got you, Jester. Stick to the short game, man.”

Hatchet nodded. “I remember you and your partner from Nam, Randy. And I know you had distance there.”

Moneybags’ voice cut through the chatter. “If we’re through comparing dick sizes, let’s get started. My guys, I want you ready to shoot in five. Clear?”

Sonny settled into lane seven, next to Fingers. So far the man had said almost nothing, but he looked over at Sonny and grinned. “That one of the third gen Smiths?”

“Yeah. 4506-1. I see you guys all use 1911s.”

“Yeah, but I do like the double-action on the first shot of those Smiths. That and they’re loose enough they don’t clog with sand or other shit. Had some problems with the old Colts over in the sandbox.” He eyeballed the stainless steel pistol with appreciation. “You ever get a malfunction with that?”

“Not a one.” Sonny flicked off the safety and checked his target. “How do you guys usually start these sessions?”

Fingers shook his head, his Colt in a two-handed low ready position. He looked down the line, poised like one of the greyhounds Sonny had seen at Izzy’s uncle’s track. Watching Moneybags. The team leader raised his off hand, and then lowered it.

Even with earphones on, Sonny wasn’t ready for the synchronized blast of fire erupting from the first six lanes. The whole team brought their weapons up almost as one, firing two shot controlled groups in split seconds, advancing with each group. It was all coordinated, right down to dumping the empty magazine as soon as the slide locked back, slamming a fresh mag in, and hitting the slide release and starting the sequence again. He looked over at Castillo, who just shook his head. It was the kind of shooting that only came from endless hours of practice and combat experience.

When they were done, Moneybags turned to Castillo, smoke training from the barrel of his .45, the slide locked back on an empty magazine. “Your turn, Marty.”

Castillo nodded, turning to Sonny and Rico. “Let’s do this.” His voice was flat, his hands filled with the big .44 Smith & Wesson magnum.

Sonny locked eyes with Rico. “Think of Maynard,” he whispered loud enough to get through the noise protection. Then he looked over to Castillo and nodded.

Their shooting wasn’t as fluid, or as synchronized, but Sonny though they did damned well. He used his usual two round groups, with Rico spacing his larger magazine to cover first Castillo and then him reloading. Sonny timed his shots to cover Castillo’s reloads as well as Rico’s. Knowing Castillo’s big magnum dropped a target with each boom. Randy tended to fire with Sonny, even though he had one less round.

Moneybags nodded. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” He looked at the rest of his team, scanned their eyes and movements. “I think this will work just fine. We’ll do some work with the carbines and then it’s VIP time.”

Sonny stepped back, watching the team work with carbines and then switching to pistols when they emptied the magazine. Rico stood beside him, watching the drill with wide eyes. “Who the hell are these cats?” he whispered partway through one of the drills.

“I don’t know, but I can say I’ve never seen better.” Sonny shook his head. “But you gotta figure. If Marty knew Moneybags in Nam, the guy’s been doing this for almost twenty-five years. Same for Hatchet. That’s fifty years of combat between two guys.”

Rico’s whistle was low. “Damn. That’s some serious shit.”

Moneybags turned off the shooting with a simple wave of his hand. “Crockett. Tubbs. You’ll want ears and eyes on for this one. Use the sunglasses. Let’s get you set up.”

The shoot house was something Metro-Dade used to practice hostage rescue. Built mostly out of plywood, it held a number of ‘rooms’ and ‘halls’ designed to mimic the kind of places SWAT might be called on to enter with little notice. Moneybags led them through to the center room, with a door and two ‘windows’ added for good measure. “Sit in those chairs,” he said. “Keep your eyes and ears on and don’t move.”

Sonny settled in, noticing a swarm of targets set up around the chairs. “Lots of bad guys,” he said with a dry laugh.

“Yeah. They like you two. But this is the best way to show you what we can do.” Turning, he headed for the door. “Both of you just act like you’re tied up.”

Rico settled into this chair. “Why do I feel like the only black dude at a Klan meeting?”

“Funny. I feel the same way.” Sonny smiled “We gotta assume…”

The door blew in with a crash, followed by a small rolling canister. Before Sonny could move, the flash-bang went off, almost blinding them through their thick sunglasses and the boom ripping through the ear protection. Through the flash Sonny could see the team flowing into the room, muzzle flashes blooming like flowers in the muzzles of their pistols. It wasn’t a jerky SWAT ‘break left, break right’ drill. These men moved with a smoothness he’d never seen before, coming into the room with an ease that seemed natural and unnatural at the same time. And the shots were so fast it reminded him of a machine gun. It all happened so fast he’d just started to shake off the spots from the flash-bang when he heard Moneybags shout “All secure!”

“Shit.” The word came unbidden from Rico’s lips, and Sonny echoed the sentiment. Looking around, he saw each target had at least two holes in either the heart or head. And then it hit him…the team had been using live rounds! He’d thought they were blanks, given how close he and Rico were to the targets and the speed of the entry. He looked down, and his hand was shaking.

“So…what do you think?” Moneybags looked at him over the smoking muzzle of his .45.

“That’s some serious shooting.”

“That was live ammo?” Rico turned to look at the targets like Sonny had.

“Yeah. No better way to show you what we can do.” Casanova grinned. “Don’t worry. We fire more in training in a month than a unit a hundred times our size might in a year.”

Sonny just nodded, not quite trusting his voice. In truth it was the best damned shooting in close quarters he’d ever seen. Turning to Rico, he found his voice. “Let’s get out to the rifle range. Thanks for the show, guys. Color me impressed.”

They regrouped at the long range, finding Randy and Castillo already in position. Hatchet looked down at Randy and nodded. “That your old Nam rifle?”

“Yeah. She found her way back with me.”

Castillo looked up from the spotting scope. “That reminds me. I’ve got something for you, Moneybags. Thought you might appreciate it.” Getting to his feet, he pulled a long duffle bag out from under the shooting bench and handed it to the man.

As Sonny watched, Moneybags unzipped the bag and looked inside. A grin spread across his face as he pulled out what looked like a cut-down machine gun. “I’ll be damned! How the the hell did you…never mind. I don’t want to know and you wouldn’t tell me in any case.”

Toad looked over. “That an RPD, boss?”

“Yeah, but cut down. I used to carry one of these in CCN. We’d cut them down to the gas tube, tweak a couple of things, and add on the hundred round drum. I could write my damned name with mind. Accurate as hell and lighter than the M-60.”

Castillo smiled. “And you left yours with Twister, right?”

“I did.” Moneybags looked at the underside of the fore grip. “This is the same damned weapon!”

“I ran into Twister in Da Nang in 1971. He was on his way home and I was…on my way somewhere else. He gave it to me for safe keeping. I always meant to get it to you, and it finally worked out.”

Moneybags just nodded, hefting the exotic weapon. “This’ll give us one hell of an edge when we hit that house or whatever the target is. How many spare drums you got in that bag of tricks?”

“Six. It was all Twister had.” Castillo turned back to the scope. “And now let us show you what we bring to the table.”

Sonny watched as Randy settled in behind the rifle. He waited until Castillo was in position. “Range me. 1410.”

“1410 confirmed. Wind 5 from the east.”

There was no sound on the range except for the metallic clacks of Randy chambering a round. The rifle shifted as he compensated for range and wind, and then the Remington boomed. “Hit.”

“Hit.” Castillo echoed the call.

A second shot. “Hit.”

“Hit.”

And so it went, working from fourteen hundred yards down to six hundred. Randy fired five rounds at each distance, his calls progressing from a simple ‘hit’ to calling a location. And Castillo always echoed the call. Not a sound came from the members of Moneybags’ team, but Sonny watched them exchanging nods and an occasional smile. Randy left the bolt open after his last shot at six hundred yards, letting powder smoke curl from the open breech. “I’ll go get the targets.”

As he puttered down the range in the cart, Jester turned to Hatchet. “How many of those were luck?”

“Not a one. I told you about him, dumbass. Even the ones at 1400 will be center mass.”

“Bet you a beer they aren’t.”

“You’re on.”

Sonny watched Castillo shake his head. “You’d better buy the beer now, then.”

“No one’s that good.”

Sonny chuckled as he saw the cart turn and start back. “No, someone IS that good.”

Jester was still arguing until Randy laid the targets out on the ground. Jester looked, his eyes getting wider as he worked his way from six hundred to seven hundred and on up the line. When he got to the 1400 yard target and saw the ragged cluster of holes in the center mass zone he shrugged. “I stand corrected. You are that damned good, man. Beer’s on me once the op’s over. And Reacher’s gonna be pissed as hell he missed this one.”

“Reacher?”

Jester turned to Sonny. “One of the snipers who usually works with our team. The Unit has Assault Teams and Sniper Teams. He was the best shooter I’d know until today.”

Hatchet looked at the targets. “They say you stopped shooting in Nam about halfway through your tour.”

“Yeah. But these assholes shot my partner. I got scores to settle.”

“Fair enough.”

A blast of automatic weapon fire cut into the discussion. Sonny turned to see Moneybags two lanes over, a big grin on his face and smoke curling from the muzzle of his cut-down RPD. “She still works like a damned dream. Let’s run through a couple more drills and see if we can work this into our usual assault drill. It about doubles our initial firepower.”

Sonny mostly watched as the team spent the rest of the morning honing assault and reaction drills based around the firepower of Moneybags’ ‘new’ weapon. Rico stood next to him, not saying much aside from an occasional muttered compliment. “They’re something to watch, aren’t they?” Sonny asked to break the silence.

“Yeah. Reminds me of how our time’s passing, partner.”

“I was talking to Marty about that earlier, Rico. Jenny kinda brought it up last night, and I can’t stop thinking about it. We close this one out, and I might be done.”

“Same here, man. Me and Mindy…I got a future now. And I didn’t see that before. It changes things.”

“Tell me about it. How I got a third chance I’ll never know, but I’m not gonna mess it up. And with Franks sniffing around it’s only a matter of time before they find something to screw us with.” He looked over at the team running through another reaction drill. “But we gotta finish this one first. I wasn’t sure how before, but watching these guys I think we can wipe Unit 8 off the face of the earth.”

“What’s the plan once they’re done?”

“We’re gonna run out and talk to the pilots again. Pete cleared the payment. And now we’ve got a location and load out. Castillo thinks we might even be able to get door guns.” Sonny slipped on his sunglasses. “And then I just gotta make a call or two and get those bastards riled up enough to send out their sniper. Give Randy a chance to square things and take away one of their advantages.”

“You think those other two cats are gonna be of use?”

“Yeah, I do. If they can track transmissions like they say, we’ll have a solid fix on Unit 8 in Miami almost as soon as they come on the air. The trick’s gonna be when to kick things off. We can’t give them time to react once the shooting starts. If they get a chance, they’ll either take down a bunch of innocent people or go into hiding and hit back later. We can’t let them do either one.”

Really enjoyed this - Thankyou again for your hard work.

[mjcmmv]

Great job as usual. I like how the crew is winding up for a change. Even Gina might be settling into something she can enjoy. This crew the Task force has assembled is something else! 

[Robbie C.]

Glad you’re enjoying it!

[Matt5]

4 hours ago, mjcmmv said:

Great job as usual. I like how the crew is winding up for a change. Even Gina might be settling into something she can enjoy. This crew the Task force has assembled is something else! 

Great task force just like on the show!

[Matt5]

50 minutes ago, Robbie C. said:

Glad you’re enjoying it!

Yes really!