No Good Deed...Part XVII

[Robbie C.]

It was quiet in the office once what he thought of as his command staff left, and Rico sat for a time listening to the hum of the HVAC system and the cooling fan on his desktop computer. He hadn’t expected Stan to have a contact in the Bureau of Prisons, but the more he thought about it the less it surprised him. While he and Sonny had been chasing all the heavy-hitters, Stan and Larry had been running down a wide range of perps. And after Larry was murdered, Stan worked those cases alone or occasionally with another OCB detective. But he’d never had a regular partner again until the Task Force and his pairing with Lester.

Rico didn’t like thinking about Larry Zito; it reminded him too much of both his weaknesses and Sonny’s. Sonny’s because the man had pushed too hard on that case, and his own because he hadn’t reined in his partner or tried to help Stan in the aftermath. He’d just put on his New York attitude along with his sunglasses and plowed on. “Not my damned finest moment,” he muttered, moving the mouse to wake up the computer so he could check the duty rosters. He needed to make sure there were enough guards on that day to pick up the girls, and arrange for overtime if he needed to call people in.

He was about halfway though when he snorted and turned away from the computer. It didn’t feel right…working scattered inside of in the conference room on the tenth floor of the office building, or even back in the squad room at OCB. Now he was here, Sonny was God knows where, Castillo was on another planet, and their brain trust was on the next floor split between arranging rooms and teaching art therapy classes. Their ears were checking surveillance cameras, and their eyes were only in town for the week before flying back to Montana. The last time Rico had felt so alone was right after Rafael had been gunned down and he held his brother’s bleeding and shattered body in his arms.

“Focus, man,” he muttered as he turned back to the computer. IT had just set him up with two monitors, and he looked at the spreadsheet on one screen while his calendar and e-mail lurked on the other. “We still go the tools, even if they ain’t in the same room. We GOT this.” He almost convinced himself of it before it was time for lunch.

He met Mindy in the staff cafeteria, a small place with limited food options but great privacy. Treatment staff usually ate with the patients, and since security ate on a rotating, almost random schedule it wasn’t hard to get the room to yourself most days.

Mindy was waiting at a corner table, her thick red hair tied back in a ponytail and her blue eyes bright. “How’d it go with Sonny?”

Rico gave her the short version. “He’s worried,” he finished, opening a plastic bottle of orange juice, “and I don’t blame him. Stan’s gonna check on Wiggins, but too much still don’t make sense.”

She nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. The cafeteria might have issues with entrees, but their sandwiches were always first-rate. “If Haskell has ties to that paper, I can see why Campbell was crawling around. But why did he wait so long?”

“Maybe it goes back to Wiggins. I don’t know.” Rico shook his head and rearranged his salad with his fork. No croutons. Damn it. “I wasn’t around Sonny much for that Caitlin case. Castillo stuck him on that detail as punishment, you know. Wanted to cool his jets after he got too aggressive. So yeah, I wasn’t there much. And he never really talked about it. I know he killed Fremont, an’ Wiggins got his ticket punched by the Feds, if you wanna call Club Fed a ticket punch.”

“Hey! Those inside traders play rough!” She giggled. “But you think Stan will come through?”

“Team Elvis always delivers, even when it’s at half strength.” Rico chewed his lettuce without tasting the dressing. “He’s got contacts all over the damned place. I should take you out to this restaurant north of here…the owner thinks he’s some kind of wise guy so he rolls out the red carpet. Best Italian food I’ve had south of Little Italy, though.”

She nodded, looking him in the eye. “You think this is for real?”

He let his answer roll around in his head before framing the words. “Yeah, pretty lady. I do. I don’t know how Jenny does it or what the hell she taps into, but if she’s that scared I’m worried.”

“Good. Because Trudy said Castillo had some kind of dream, too.”

“Now that is not good.” Rico put down his fork. “If those two are tapping into the cosmic mojo there’s some bad news coming down the line. I’ve got security stretched as far as we can go, even have Trudy coming in to work backgrounds and maybe a shift or two. Until we get more info, all we can do is wait.”

 

Martin Castillo looked at the dark clouds hovering out over the water and smiled. Rain would break the heat and clean the air. Sitting on his deck, he’d watched them gathering since early morning, and now they were about to sweep in and unleash their cargo. He was looking forward to it.

His sleeveless fatigue shirt billowed a bit in the rising wind, and he felt it wick the sweat from his longish hair as well. It wasn’t anything like the monsoon winds, but it would do. At least he didn’t have to worry about losing his air support here, unlike the dim mountains of Laos. When the weather closed in the birds didn’t launch. It was the kiss of death for too many teams, SOG and CIA alike.

“Takes you back, don’t it?” Randy had skipped another training session and sat next to him on the deck, an opened bottle of beer near his feet. Like Castillo he was wearing an old jungle fatigue shirt, the sleeves rolled up in tight Marine style instead of cut away. “Goddamn monsoons shut the entire war down in I Corps neat as you please.”

“It shut down the machines. The NVA kept moving.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me. Little rice-propelled bastards anyhow.” Randy took a drink and set the bottle back down. “Dave wanted me to tell you we might have some help close to hand.”

“How’s that?” Castillo kept watching the clouds through his dark Ray Bans. Waiting for them to start their quick slick toward land.

“That nephew of his? He’s in town. Don’t ask me how they got in touch.” Randy pulled a small card out of the lower pocket of his jungle shirt. “He said to call this number if we need him. He also said the kid called that number you gave him.”

“Good.” There! They’re spreading open. And the wind rises with it. All those things Ti Ti taught me…coming back to my mind now. “He was wasted with CIA.”

“You figure we’ll need him?”

“Maybe. There are too many moving pieces now.” The wind started to rise, driving salt air inland ahead of the rain. He could see it sheeting down from the clouds now in slanting dark gray lines. “Five minutes?”

“More like three.” Randy checked his watch. “We get quick storms back home all the time. Read ‘em like a book.” He kept watching the old Seiko jungle watch. “And three…two…one…”

The first heavy drops splattered on the deck and Castillo smiled. “Staying out here?”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Damned rain feels good, an’ I still got beer left.”

The first drops were big, hitting the deck with impact and sending smaller droplets arcing into the air. Then it changed to a steady downpour, slanting with the wind then coming straight down as the wind spent itself against the coastline. Castillo stood, feeling the water soak through his fatigue shirt but not wanting to be the first to give in to the elements. Then he thought back to something Ti Ti had said. It was after the first time they’d visited old Loang Kao. Rain is the tears of the spirits washing away your evil. Maybe they were meant to be in the this rain, so different from the normal late summer showers.

Randy’s blue jeans had turned black from the rain water before he finally set down his empty bottle. “Reckon we should go in now.” He looked up at the shifting clouds. “Rain’s about to stop, anyhow.”

Castillo nodded. “How did you know?”

“We worked with SOG more than that one time with you. The Yards on those teams took a liking to me an’ Dave. Don’t rightly know why. Anyone, one of ‘em was some kinda shaman an’ he made us stand in the rain before a mission launch once. Said it was to wash the evil spirits away.” He grinned. “The rain was kinda like what we just had.” He got up from the wooden deck chair. “I heard back from Butte. The sheriff is ok with me takin’ two weeks on the end of this conference I ain’t really goin’ to. So you got me for that long.”

“Good. It will break before that.”

“Got any notion about what it is yet?”

Castillo shook his head. “No. I did some surveillance on Haskell but came up empty. He went to court, met with the junior partner in the firm, and then went back to his condo. He never spoke to anyone that wasn’t involved with the current case. Of course we can’t tap his phones, so it’s not possible to be sure he’s not in touch with someone else.”

They were inside now, the rain reduced to a few random drips from a grudging gray sky. Castillo pulled two more beers from the fridge and handed one to Randy, opening his own with a casual twist. “We know Haskell has ties to the paper. Trudy learned that much. But the dream showed at least three distinct groupings of tracers. We’re missing something.”

Randy nodded, taking a long drink from his bottle. “I gotta ask, boss. You’re sure about the dream?”

“Yes.” His voice was flat.

“Yeah. Figured as much. Had to ask, though.”

“I know. I would, too, if I was in your place. But the details are too consistent. So far we’ve found two players, but there might be at least one more out there.”

Randy shook his head. “I hate to say it, but I think we gotta wait for them to show themselves. Hell, we ain’t got the resources now to find a damned thing. No warrants. No overwatch. Just you an’ me an’ maybe Dave’s nephew. An’ all kinds of fences around what we can do.”

Castillo nodded, slipping off his sunglasses. “Do you need to get back to the conference?”

“Naw. Afternoon’s some kinda door-kicker seminar. I ain’t no entry guy. I think Dave and I might go out to Pete’s place for dinner, though. You and Trudy want to go?”

“Yes. It would be good to see him again.” Castillo remembered the card in his pocket. “I might call Dave’s nephew, too. See if he’d like to join us.”

“Dave would like that. He don’t say much about it, but I think he feels kinda responsible for the kid. Even though he ain’t a kid no more.”

No. Not after working for the Company. He’s not a kid at all. Castillo nodded. “I’ll call him when you head back into the city.”

“Good. We’ll meet at Marshal’s Ribs about twenty hundred.”

Randy left just before three, after they talked a bit more about the various cross-border missions they’d run and Montagnards they’d worked with. Castillo was surprised to find they knew some of the same people, and was able to let Randy know a few of them had actually made it to the United States. They raised their bottles to the others, likely killed in battle or in one of the North Vietnamese ‘rehabilitation’ camps that popped up like weeds in the South after the war.

Old memories. The kind Castillo tried to keep boxed up with all the rest. Sometimes it worked. Other times…

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the card, turning it over to read the number scrawled in black ink on the back. A hotel extension with a direct room number. Rolling the numbers through his head he came up with one of the chains close to the airport. Not first class, but not one of the by-the-hour dumps, either. Just the place a trained operative would stay to escape attention of any kind.

The phone was answered on the third ring. “Two four seven.” It was a man’s voice, level and flat, reading back the room number.

Castillo smiled in spite of himself. Solid tradecraft. “This is Castillo.”

There was a pause. “I remember you. Who was the man who gave me the envelope?”

“Moneybags.” Even better. “Your uncle Dave gave me this number. He’d like to meet you for dinner tonight at eight. A place called Marshal’s Ribs. Do you know it?”

“I’ll find it.” The phone buzzed in Castillo’s ear as the man hung up.

Under thirty seconds. Just enough to defeat a trace. I’m impressed. Castillo hung up the phone and looked out the sliding glass door, feeling the wet of his clothes wicking away as the air conditioning did its job. The nephew will be a huge help if he agrees. And if he has the time. There was no way to know what had brought him to Miami in the first place, and Castillo wouldn’t ask. He knew the covert world well enough to know if the question was asked, it would be answered with a lie.

He’d changed into his working black suit by the time Trudy came home, and she smiled when she saw him. “I take it we got business tonight, my love?”

“Yes.” He kissed her, feeling her warmth against him. He never tired of the feeling. “We’re meeting Dave, Randy, and Dave’s nephew at Marshal’s Ribs at eight.”

“Nephew? Was he the one who brought us that tape when we were after Delgado?”

“Yes.” The colonel must have called him. I would never have heard either way, but it would explain why he’s here. “He may be able to help Randy and I.”

“Good.” Trudy looked at the wall clock and smiled. “I’d better go pick out something to make Pete’s heart skip a beat or two.”

“And mine as well, my love.”

She giggled and put a little extra into her walk as she headed for the bedroom. “Let me see if I can still fit into that little red dress…”

They took the Mercedes, and Castillo pulled into a spot in the parking lot of Marshal’s Ribs at seven forty-five. “I thought we’d say hello to Pete first,” he said, looking over at Trudy. Her face was painted alternating red and blue by the flashing neon of the restaurant sign, making her look even more exotic and beautiful than usual.

She giggled. “You just want to check the place out first.”

“Yes. There is that.” He shut off the big car, imagining he could hear the engine ticking over the jukebox music leaking from the restaurant. He’d left the big Magnum at home, but a .45 rested comfortably in a hip holster and he knew Trudy had her MatchMaster in her purse. It had been her idea.

Inside the air conditioning labored against the heat from both the kitchen and the crowd in the main dining room. It wasn’t bad for Monday night, but there were still more people than Castillo liked. Catching the eye of the hostess, he wagged his head. “Is Pete here tonight?” After she nodded he took a step closer. “Could you let him know Martin and Trudy are here?” When she gave him an annoyed look he leveled his dark eyes. “Now, please.”

The stare worked its usual magic, and within moments Pete appeared from the kitchen, his frown replaced by a wide grin. “I was wonderin’ who scared hell out of that little girl. Marty! Trudy! Come on! Got a table in the back room just for you.”

Castillo shook the offered hand, smiling back at the career U.S. Marshal. “There’s going to be three more, Pete. Dave, Randy, and Dave’s nephew. Is that a problem?”

“Hell no! Just means I gotta bring three pitchers insteada one.” Pete led the way through the crowd, looking for all the world like George Jefferson strutting down a New York City sidewalk.

The back room was actually a small private dining room Pete used on occasion for special events as well as feeding his staff after a long shift. After making sure they were seated, Pete grinned again. “So those two Jarheads is back in town? Must be that damned cop conference I keep seein’ the ads for.”

“Yes. Randy might be staying on for a few days when it’s over.”

“Be good to see those two again.” Pete got a distant look in his eyes for a moment. “You miss it sometimes, Marty?”

“Yes. I’d be lying if I said otherwise.” He smiled across the table at Trudy. “But then I look at her and remember there are far more important things.”

“Yeah. I do the same with Annabelle.” He grinned at Trudy. “Bet you didn’t know this ol’ dog was married, did you? I think you two’d get along great. Now I’ll go tend to the beer an’ get those specials started.”

When he was gone, Trudy turned to Castillo. “Did you know he was married?”

“No.” He let the word hang in the air for a moment. “Pete is a very private man once you get past his old Southern sheriff act.” He thought back to what he’d heard when the Task Force was active and seconded to the Marshal’s Service. “I think she’s his second wife. No one talked about his first marriage, but I got the impression it didn’t end well.”

Pete returned with four pitchers of beer - two handles gripped in each massive hand. “Missy’ll be along directly with glasses,” he said, setting the pitchers in the middle of the table. And Ginny - that’s the little girl you scared hell out of - will send ‘em back as soon as they get here.” Pulling out a chair, he sat down with a sigh. “An’ now this ol’ warhorse is gonna have a beer an’ relax. Heat in that damned kitchen sure takes it out of a man.”

Missy came and went, leaving six beer glasses and a tray with a pitcher of ice water and more glasses. Castillo poured the beer, handing a glass to Pete and Trudy before taking a sip of his own. Pete slugged down half his glass in one long swallow and let out a contented sigh. “Ya know,” he said with a smile, “somethin’ tells me this ain’t just a social call.”

“No. It’s not.” Castillo took another sip. “There’s a situation developing at Caitlin’s House. It’s complicated, but I don’t want Sonny or Rico taking action.”

“Yeah. Them being public figures now an’ all. Makes it tough.” Pete refilled his glass. “But you…”

“I’m invisible.”

“Not as much as you’d think.” Pete chuckled. “You leave a mark, Marty. You know the AUSA still talks about the Task Force? I think he misses all them easy convictions you boys an’ girls handed him.”

“He mighta liked the easy convictions, but I’ll bet the bastard got writer’s cramp from all the shooting investigations.” Randy Mather’s voice was unmistakable, and he came through the door with a big grin and more beer. Dave was next, and Castillo recognized the man with dark hair and hazel eyes as Dave’s nephew Steve.

“It’s damned good to see you two sons-of-bitches again!” Pete made the rounds shaking hands and slapping backs like a good ol’ boy running for re-election. “An’ you must be Dave’s nephew. Steve, ain’t it? I’m Pete. Used to try to ride herd on your uncle. Not very well, I should add.”

Steve nodded. “That’s not what he says.” Then he looked around Pete to meet Castillo’s gaze. “I got a call like you said.”

“Good. And you accepted?”

“Yes.”

Castillo nodded. He wanted to say more, but it would betray a confidence. Maybe later there’d be time. “Are you down for the conference, too?”

“Between jobs. I knew Uncle Dave would be here and it just worked out.” His eyes narrowed. “I hear you’re out now.”

“Yes. It was time.” Castillo rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Maybe past time. That’s the hardest part of this job: knowing when it’s time to go.”

The younger man nodded and then turned to Trudy. “You must be Trudy. I’m Steve Blair. Dave’s nephew.”

Trudy smiled. “I was there when you brought that tape down. We never really were introduced, though. It’s good to see you again.”

They had beer, then some more beer. Food came, along with yet more beer. Castillo drank sparingly, noticing with surprise Steve Blair did the same. Randy also drank slowly, but Dave made up the difference for the other two. The ribs and burnt ends were spectacular, chased with mashed potatoes and cornbread spiced with jalapeños. They were just finishing the last of the bread when Pete pushed back from the table. “I’ll leave you boys an’ the lady to talk business.” He caught Dave’s eye. “Dave, you wanna come out an’ try a couple of new beers I’m thinkin’ of adding to the menu?”

Castillo nodded, appreciating the gesture. “Thank you, Pete. I’ll close the tab when we leave.” He raised his hand. “I insist. You bought last time we were here, I think.”

Once they were gone Randy leaned back in his chair. “I’m damned glad Pete did that. This ain’t somethin’ Dave needs to know about. Not with him goin’ back to Butte first.”

Blair nodded, and Castillo could see the intensity in the younger man’s eyes. “I appreciate you keeping my uncle out of this. So what’s the deal?”

Castillo locked eyes with the man. “I want you to know you’re under no obligation here. We’re going to be off the books, with no cover.”

“That’s how my new job operates.”

“I know.” Castillo thought back to the colonel, and wondered if he hadn’t made sure Blair would be here at this precise time. “I just wish we had more precise information.”

“What’s the threat?”

“We don’t know for sure.” Castillo poured another beer. “One of my former detectives runs a rehab center here in Miami.” He gave Blair the matchbook version of the history of Caitlin’s House. “We have reason to believe someone is going to try to damage the House’s reputation. And possibly attack both Crockett and Tubbs.”

“Tubbs was the one whose son was killed? I’m in. Where do you need me?”

Trudy cleared her throat. “I’ve been thinking about that. Rico needs bodies for security. Why don’t we bring him in as a guard? That way he’d be close and could watch for inside threats, too. If that paper’s got narco money behind it we need to assume they might try using some of it.”

Blair nodded. “That’s a good plan. I’ve got no local contacts so there’s nothing I could do on the streets.” He paused. “Do they issue weapons?”

“No. You can bring your own.”

“Good. I’ve got one with me. Not the same thing I use on the job, but I’m familiar with it.” He looked at Trudy. “How do you want to get me in?”

“Should be simple. I’ll tell Rico you’re in town between jobs and could use a couple of weeks’ worth of pay. Odds are he’ll remember you, so that’ll make it easier.”

“He might feel he owes you.” Castillo looked around the table. “We need to keep this as low key as we can.”

Trudy nodded. “Stan’s got one of his contacts in the Federal Bureau of Prisons looking into recent releases.” She smiled at Castillo. “We’ve seen it before.”

“Yes. And this is from the past, so it makes sense. Is Stan reporting to Rico?”

She nodded. “I heard him talking about it with Mindy in the staff cafeteria. He’s worried, Marty, but still focused on his job there.”

“Good. Dave, I know you can’t stay in town. We’ll keep Randy out of trouble for you.”

“Never thought anything different.” Dave drained his glass and poured another beer. “Look. You best be careful. You ain’t got badges no more, an’ that reserve deputy crap or whatever it is they gave you ain’t worth the tin it’s stamped on.”

Castillo’s smile didn’t touch his eyes. “No one will know we’re there.”

“Yeah, and I know you ain’t got no choice. They’re your guys, an’ I know what that means. It’s just the rules are different when you ain’t got the badge.” He shook his head. “Hard change to make sometimes.”

Randy chuckled. “You worry too damned much. We got this.”

 

Hector Rendozo looked at the phone. He was tired, and Jangles’ voice was more grating than usual. “So what the hell are you telling me?”

“She’s in, man! We got her in!”

“Good.” It all started clicking now. “Look. I gotta make a call. You talk to Ramon an’ make sure that little bitch don’t do anything until I say, hear? Until I say.” Hanging up the pay phone, he dropped coins and dialed as soon as the bongs stopped and the dial tone kicked in.

“I hope this is good news.”

He recognized Wiggins’ accent right away. “The girl is in place.”

“Outstanding. You might want to read the Post tomorrow morning, yes? Our first shot, if you will. How long will it take them to process the girl?”

Hector thought back to what he’d read. And what he’d learned from one or two sources of his own. “Two days, maybe. So she should be good by Thursday.”

“Excellent. You’ll need to meet with Jimmy before that. I know he can be a trial, but we need him to use the girl, you see.”

“Sure.” Hector didn’t see, but that wasn’t his problem. But he was worried that Wiggins seemed to. Skinny bitch had crazy in his eyes. I meet him, I got my hand on my piece. “He got a number?”

“Is it ok if I give him this one?”

“Sure. I’ll be here tomorrow about the same time, an’ the next day. After that, he’s on his own.”

“I understand, Hank. Really, I do. As I said, he’s a trial but he does have his uses. But as soon as those are used up…”

“That’s extra.”

“Of course, Hank. Of course. I’ll bring another installment to our next sit-down. We’ll speak again soon.”

The dial tone buzzed in his ear until Hector hung up the phone and looked around the convenience store parking lot. One or two cars lurked at the pumps, and he could see a handful parked in front of the plate glass windows around the side of the building. He liked rotating his phones, and at least here he didn’t have to shout over a bunch of drunks or a club sound system. That and there was at least one good strip club between it and the hotel.

He was glad Wiggins had brought up the money on his own. Stepping over a drunk passed out on the sidewalk, Hector went into the store and stared at the soda cooler before pulling out a plastic bottle of Coke and taking it to the register. It was even better he’d brought it up when it was just the two of them. He didn’t plan on cutting Jangles out. But what he didn’t know wouldn’t start arguments.

The Coke was cold, and he ran the bottle across his forehead before opening it and taking a deep drink. Even though the sun had set it was still hot in the city, the day’s heat stored by the pavement and asphalt and conspiring to make him miserable. Still…things were moving now. Soon he’d be in position to deal with Cooper or Tubbs or whatever the guy called himself. Then he’d take the money and start making moves again.