No Good Deed...Part XXIV

[Robbie C.]

Sonny hung up the phone with a curse. Then he heard a chuckle and remembered he wasn’t alone in the office. “Lawyers not agreeing with you?”

“Naw. Nothing that dramatic.” He smiled in spite of himself. He’d discovered Steve Blair had that effect on him. Guy would make a hell of an interrogator if he was in my old line of work. Of course I guess he might be, in his own way. “But you know prosecutors. Always gotta have the last word.”

“Never dealt with them much.” Blair’s tone was conversational, but there was something lurking behind the words in his normally bland hazel eyes. “But Feds? They always have to have the last word.”

“You’ve got some history with them. Not that I’ve got any call to pry. Hell, I’ve got my own beefs with J. Edgar’s finest.”

“I’m sure my uncle Dave told you some of it. He can’t help himself when someone starts talking about how great the FBI is. Or how bad they are.” Blair smiled, but it missed his eyes. “He always starts off with something like ‘you have no idea’ and then goes.”

Sonny nodded. “Yeah. That’s pretty much how it started.” He paused, not sure how far he should go. “Did they ever find out what happened?”

“No. The just closed the case as a car accident.” Blair’s eyes went hard, and Sonny felt like he was looking in the mirror at Burnett. “But it wasn’t. No way. They reassigned the SIAC not long after it happened, too. Kicked upstairs to Washington. That never happened from the Butte office.” He paused, and the eyes cooled. “You got family around here?”

“Yeah. Don’t talk with ‘em much, though.” Sonny shook his head. It had been ages since he’d thought about his family. “I got a con artist named Jack for a cousin, my dad’s one of those working class handy guys, mother bakes pies and tends to the kids.” He chuckled. “Nice South Florida working class family.” He paused, sorting his thoughts. “My dad was one of the ones who always had time to play catch. Taught me to tinker on cars and power boats. That kinda thing. I was good at ball, and on my way to be the first in the family to graduate from college.”

“You played football?”

“Yeah. Wide receiver. There was talk about the NFL, but I always knew I was too small for that. And there was that little thing overseas called Vietnam.”

“Dave talks about that sometimes. Usually after he’s had a few too many with Randy.”

“Yeah. My dad was in World War II. Never talked about it much, but he always said you had to answer when your country called. That’s hard to do when you’re on a football scholarship.” The words turned in Sonny’s head, and he decided to tell the truth. “I banged up my knee in practice. Nothing big, but it was something I could milk. My buddy, Robbie, had already decided to decline his scholarship for the next semester and enlist. A little play-acting, and that knee became ‘career ending’ and the scholarship went away. No scholarship, no reason to stay in school. No school, no deferment. Robbie and I enlisted in the Marine Corps on the same day.”

“And no one figured out that a real knee injury would have gotten you disqualified?”

“I think my dad did. It really pissed my mother off. She was the one who was big on college and all that. He pretended to be angry, but I think he was proud deep down. You know, that I was doing my part when so many others weren’t. We never talked about it, though.”

“He still alive?”

“Yeah.”

Blair was silent for a time. He turned away before he spoke. “Maybe you should talk about it. With him. You never know…”

Sonny nodded, feelings he’d kept buried for years balling up in his chest. “Yeah. I probably should.” He looked at the phone on his desk and sighed. “I gotta get this. It’s Gina, and I’ve ignored that light three times now.” He snatched the receiver off the cradle and hit the button. “Yeah, I know I’ve been ignoring you. I was talking with my security department in here. What’s up?”

“About time you answered, Sonny Crockett. I was about to kick the door down and come in after you.” Her voice was tight, and Sonny could almost see the two red spots on her cheeks. “Gary’s going to talk to the press at two. That’s an hour and a half from now in case you forgot how to tell time, too. He wanted to know if there was any chance any part of that story could be true, and I told him no. Don’t tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re not. Rico screens his people better than anyone I can think of. And I’ve got Stan and Lester coming back in to run some sweeps of the rooms while the girls are in orientation sessions. Come to think of it, Jenny should be talking to two of them now.”

“That was the other thing I was wanting to tell you. She’s done with one, Kelly I think the name was, and she’s in with Ramona now. And you’ve got some ass kissing to do with Dr. Jessup. She was not happy.”

“She’d better remember who signs her checks at the end of the day.” Sonny sighed. “Look, I know she’s got her schedule, but we’ve got a situation here and Jenny thinks something wasn’t right about those two girls. I’ll make nice with her if Stan and Lester come up empty, but if they don’t…”

“Yeah, yeah. I get the picture. Gary said he’ll stop by after he deals with the jackals at the gate. His words, not mine. And you tell Stanley I want to talk to him when he’s done with the sweep.”

“You got it, Mrs. Switek.” Sonny chuckled as Gina snorted and slammed down the phone. “Italian/Cuban anger issues. You don’t wanna get on the wrong end of those, let me tell you.”

Blair nodded, still looking out the window. “You said Jenny was talking to two girls she had a bad feeling about?”

“Yeah.”

“You mind if I take a look at their files? There might be something there.”

“Knock yourself out.” Sonny slid the slim folders across the desk. He’d had copies made the day before along with the other two and had been planning to look through them again before all this shit kicked off. “Fresh eyes and all.”

“Different eyes.” Blair turned back toward the desk and sat down. “And it’ll make me feel like I’m doing something useful.”

“I know how that feels.” Sonny sank back in his chair and picked up the phone, calling down to Rico to let him know about the press conference. “And you got any update on when Stan and Lester will be here?”

“Not long now, Sonny. Stan called and said they got hung up in traffic. Something about an 18 wheeler and some old guy’s mobile home. But they’ll be here before Gary starts dancing with the press.”

“Good.” Sonny looked at the schedule on his computer monitor. “The girls will be busy until at least one, so they should have half an hour to do their sweep. If that’s not enough time, have them wait until after lunch when the second part of orientation starts. That’s when the other girls are in classes or treatment, too, so they’ll have a clear field. Last thing we want…”

“Is for one of the girls to see them and get the wrong idea. Or a couple of wrong ideas.” Rico’s laugh echoed up the line. “We’ll handle it, boss. But you might wanna keep a low profile when the press are around.”

“That’s strictly Gary’s show now. If this sweep turns up anything, he thinks we’ve got solid ground to go after the Post for quite a bit.”

Rico said what he’d not wanted to bring up. “Assuming our house is in order, at least. And it is, boss. No skeletons in our closet we didn’t put there. I hope Gary’s right, though. I’d love to see those chumps at the Post go down.”

“You and me both, partner. But we gotta look at what’s best for the House now.” Sonny chuckled. “Yeah, I can’t believe I said that, either. But there it is. You want me there when they do the sweep?”

“Naw. I plan on keeping it low-key. I ain’t even gonna be there.”

“Good. I’ll check back later this afternoon.”

“Solid.”

Blair looked up from the folders. “Sounds like Tubbs has everything in hand.”

“Yeah. He’s good that way. Method to my madness. Or something like that.” He looked at the papers. “Those fresh eyes see anything yet?”

“I don’t think it’s this one.” Blair waved a hand over Kelly’s file. “She’s got too much ‘wrong place at the wrong time’ in there. A girl on the edges who got caught before she could get in really deep. But this one” - he raised Ramona’s file a hair - “something ain’t right with this one.”

“Anything in particular?”

“Not so much one thing, but lots of little things. Keep in mind I’m no cop, but they train us to go undercover for extended periods in very hostile places. And that means you gotta look genuine no matter what.” A faint smile played across his lips. “And that also means you can spot people who aren’t.”

“And this girl isn’t?”

“Not completely. I’d say she’s a girl who’s had a rough time in life.” Blair flipped through the pages. “Not many arrests for someone who claims to have been turned out three years ago. When she was fourteen. Like I said, I’m no cop, but they also don’t look like the right kind of arrests.”

“What do you mean?” Sonny leaned across the desk as Blair turned the folder so he could read. A familiar, sinking feeling was starting to form in his gut. Was I even paying attention when I looked these over? Or did I just nod and wing the whole thing? “Looks like she’s got double digits in the arrest column. A solid winner.”

“Yeah. But if you compare it to Kelly’s it doesn’t look the same.” Blair spun the other folder. “See? She’s got arrests for soliciting. One or two minor in possession arrests for a bottle of vodka in her purse. And an assault that got dropped when the victim didn’t show. The note says she claimed she was defending her corner.”

“Yeah. Pretty routine hooker stuff. We used to see that all the time.”

“Now look at Ramona’s. A couple of MiPs, a couple of misdemeanor assaults that were dropped but look like neighborhood squabbles to me.”

Sonny nodded as he read the street names. “Little Havana. Gang turf, not a hooker stroll.”

“So she’s a tough kid. But you know what I don’t see? Solicitation. Not a one. A couple for drugs, but pot each time.” Blair shook his head. “Maybe she’s just lucky and managed to stay under the radar. Or only put out for other gang members. But the only sign of prostitution I could find was the complaint that got her picked up just before she came here.”

“What kind of complaint?”

“The best kind. Anonymous caller complaining about ‘nasty hookers’ outside a café on the edge of Little Havana. At least that’s what the note says. For all I know it’s in the middle of the bay.”

“No, that’s the edge of Little Havana. I think I know the place. Not a normal corner for the working girls, which might explain the call.”

“I don’t know, Sonny. Like I said, I’m not a cop. It just seems thin to me compared to the others. But maybe she just got lucky, too, and happened to be in the wrong place at the right time.”

Sonny nodded. Slowly. “What does your gut say?”

“She’s worth another look. Kelly strikes me as lucky. Ramona looks like someone’s making her luck for her.” He closed both folders and slid them across the desk with a small smile. “But my line of work makes you paranoid real fast.”

Sonny nodded, taking the folders putting them in his shred bin. They were only copies, and they’d served their purpose. He knew Steve Blair was some kind of spook…he’d been Company once but appeared to have left them and moved on to someone far more serious. He didn’t want to know who. “Stan and Lester will look at all of them, but I’ll make sure they look twice at Ramona. If she’s got any comm gear in that room, they’ll find it.”

“There’s no other way someone could get word outside?”

“The girls are restricted from phones, and we monitor their calls. Ramona hasn’t called anyone since she arrived. Stan checked. And Rico’s people are solid. She couldn’t be slipping a message through one of them.”

“Then we wait.” Blair looked at his watch. “You gonna listen in on the press circus?”

“Naw. I’d just want to get involved, and Gina and Rico would kill me if I did that.” He grinned. “I’m not exactly known for my calm and soothing disposition at things like that.”

“Yeah. I heard about you slugging a reporter at one once.” Blair leaned back in his chair, and Sonny saw a shadow pass over his eyes. “I get the feeling, though. After my parents were killed the FBI wanted to trot me in front of the cameras. Orphan of the FBI or some shit, I guess. Uncle Dave put a stop to that pretty quick, though.”

“If you want to go down and watch the show, be my guest. Gary usually is worth the price of admission, and I think he’s kinda fired up about this one.”

“Thanks but no. Cameras don’t agree with my retiring disposition.”

Or career. “Yeah, I guess they wouldn’t. Might not be a bad time to grab some lunch, though. Jenny might be done talking to those two, and we can see if her gut agrees with yours about Ramona. Stan and Lester won’t do their sweep until after lunch.”

 

The earlier rain still clung to the trees and undergrowth running a clean ten feet away from the perimeter fence. Jimmy kept inside the green shelter, moving along the line and away from his usual entry point. He’d done that on purpose, making Burnett’s people focus too much energy on one section of the fence and possibly ignore others. He’d abandoned his old Datsun after rolling it off the road so it wouldn’t attract attention. But he’d also seen the flock of cars passing through the outside gate and knew Burnett must have called some kind of press conference. No way he couldn’t after that moron Renfro ruined everything. Asshole. Him and those damned lawyers.

The Beretta was warm in his waistband where it had absorbed his body head. The girl was still in danger, and it would be worse after the press had been herded away. He knew they wouldn’t stick around long enough or ask the really hard questions. They never did, and Renfro’s story hadn’t given them enough meat to really sink their teeth into. If there was anything going on in the treatment center, Burnett would tie up every loose end as soon as the idiots with the cameras and recorders left the area. And the girl was just another loose end.

One good thing about the number of times he’d jumped the wire in his old spot…he’d gotten their response times down to the second. Some of the guards would be tied up with the press, and if he’d known about it he would have tried to slip in with them. But he’d make it work just the same. Pausing just back in the bushes, he sniffed the air and smiled. It smelled like more rain was on the way. He didn’t care about getting wet, but he did care about the cameras and monitoring systems being obscured by the rain. Moving a few more yards to the right, he looked at one camera pole and then another, timing their movements and watching for the handful of heartbeats he’d need when both cameras were pointing elsewhere.

He had to give the fat guy and his skinny partner props. They knew their business. There was no way he’d be able to get in through his usual spot. They’d nailed it down with cameras, sensors, and God knows what else. But that inevitably left gaps…areas they hadn’t improved because they were focused on the one vulnerability. At least that was his hope. Now he just had to wait for the rain to start again.

Crouching in the brush, he could feel the cold water soaking through his jeans and the shoulders of his surplus camouflage jacket. The thick air started to turn to a mist, and he knew the rain was close now. A stray gust of wind rattled the trees, and he smiled. Something else to degrade their sensors. He’d take all the help he could get now. He could still see the House even with the increasing rain; a white blob rising out of a sea of perfectly manicured green. In some ways it wasn’t unlike the Carrera compound. Big, white, and just out of reach for someone like him. But he’d learned things there. Like how to take care of problems. He’d learned that from the man himself. Sonny Burnett went at problems directly. And solved them permanently.

Looking around as the rain drummed on the leaves overhead, he collapsed in on himself. He figured Burnett would leave at five. He’d seen that once or twice, and he’d also learned Sonny Burnett could be a creature of habit. Once he got in, he’d take him in the parking lot. The black Daytona was hard to miss, and he knew he had to make his move before Burnett got to the car. He figured the man would feel safe here, which was why he was risking this instead of tailing him and trying something later. Outside of the compound Burnett would be his usual wary, animal self. But here, he’d be relaxed. Slow. Lazy. He relaxed a little, settling in for the wait. He hated to lose the rain, but better that than to try to hide somewhere inside the compound. Besides, the heavy gray sky told him the rain would be his companion for a time yet.

 

Sonny looked out at the rain streaking down the cafeteria’s picture window. “Glad I put the top up this morning. One thing I don’t need is a Daytona bath tub.”

Sitting across from him, Jenny smiled and touched his thigh with her foot. “The leather doesn’t like rain, either.” She turned and smiled at Steve Blair sitting at the right side of the table. “Thank you for watching over him.”

“Just doing my job.” His cheeks colored just a hair, and Sonny choked back a smile.

“No. You’re helping people you don’t really know because your uncle asked you to. And I want you to know it’s appreciated. Very appreciated. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.”

“How did the interviews go?” Sonny jumped in to change the subject, setting down his coffee cup and looking at the remains of his lunch. The few fries could wait. He also wanted to spare Blair any more uncomfortable moments.

“Kelly’s just lucky.” She said it with the same certainty Blair had not more than an hour before. “She wasn’t in the life too long and got rounded up before she could get in too deep. Her pimp doesn’t deserve to be breathing still, but I think she’ll be ok.”

“What about Ramona?”

Jenny’s eyes narrowed. “She’s something else again. Says the right things. Even cries at the right times. But she’s too clean. I don’t know how else to say it. The other girls have scars. Ones you can see and ones you just feel. She doesn’t have either. Or not the same ones. She’s got tattoos like the others, but they’re not the same kind. More like gang tattoos than the kind of things pimps use to mark their girls.” She toyed with the remains of her salad with a fork. “But she’s good. I can see how she fooled Victims’ Services and Nichole. And she’s been hurt by people. Just not in the same way or for as long.”

Sonny nodded. He knew part of her evaluation was based on whatever feeling she got from Ramona, but he also knew she’d never mention that around someone new. “Steve looked at her file and came to pretty much the same conclusion. She’s got gang ties. No question. But he doesn’t think she’s ever worked the stroll.”

“I think he’s right.”

Blair cleared his throat. “But why’s she here? That’s the big question.”

“I’ll know for sure once Stan and Lester do their thing.” He raised a hand. “I don’t doubt what either of you say. But it’ll take some physical evidence, too.”

Blair nodded. “Yeah. Especially if you’ve got a doctor or two to convince.”

“She’s pretty.” Jenny’s voice was very matter-of-fact. “And she cries well. I mean really well. And on command.” She paused. “I’d like to be there when you talk to her.”

“Sure. We can use one of the observation rooms. I’d like Steve to watch, too.” He turned again. “If you’re willing, of course. Another set of eyes.”

“Of course. I’ve done one or two interrogations in my time.” He looked at his watch. “Tubbs should be done herding the cats soon. Did you want him there, too?”

“Yeah. You two outside and us inside with her. Assuming Stan and Lester turn something up.” Sonny looked at his own watch. “They should be starting in about fifteen minutes, give or take.”

“When the girls are off the wing.” Jenny nodded. “That’s a great idea.”

Half an hour later they were sitting in Sonny’s office, Rico finishing the last of his own salad snatched from the cafeteria on his way up. “Finally got rid of those idiots,” he said around a forkful of lettuce. “You missed Gary at his finest, though. All full of righteous fury and indignation. He was really letting those chumps have it.”

“Good. He mention any legal action?”

“Yep. After he read them a textbook definition of libel. ‘In case you slept through that part of your law and journalism class’ was how he put it.”

Jenny giggled. “You impersonate him really well, Rico.”

“Heard him in court enough times, and he’s got one of those voices that kinda grows on you.”

“Yeah. Like a high-priced rash.” Sonny chuckled. “But you do sound damned close to the man himself.”

“So what’s the score on these two girls?”

Sonny filled him in. “Both Jenny and Steve think there’s something off with Ramona,” he finished. “I’m just waiting for your boys to come back with their fancy toys.”

“That gadget Lester stumbled on is really something.” Done eating, Rico tossed the container in Sonny’s trash can. “It picks up those cell phones so long as they’re on. He tried explaining it to me, but I got lost as soon as he got past the on switch.”

Sonny saw Blair nod from the corner of his eye. “My people are working on something like that, too. So you think she smuggled a phone in?”

“No other way she could reach the outside.”

“Yeah, I told him about our security.” Sonny turned to look out the window, seeing the rain still slanting down from a gray sky. “Only way she gets word out is with one of those. But she’d have to be careful to keep from being overheard.”

“The newer ones can send text. Like e-mail, but shorter.” Blair smiled. “If I was a betting man, I’d bet she’s doing that.”

Sonny nodded. “And here they come.” He got up as Stan and Lester came through the office door, Lester carrying a device in a black leather shoulder bag and Stan holding something up like it was a prize marlin.

“Behold! The warriors return victorious!” With an exaggerated flourish he waved his arm and set a small black rectangle on the desk. “A brand-new cell phone, complete with saved text messages. Hooked this little prize just one floor down in the new patient wing. Hidden under the mattress of one Ramona.”

Lester grinned through his dark beard. “We did reverse lookup on the number she was texting. It’s registered to a Juan Franco, better known to the patrons of Rizzo’s and other dive bars as Jangles.”

“Hector’s buddy.” Sonny nodded slowly, staring at the plastic rectangle. “You’re sure it’s hers?”

“Yep. She scratched her name inside the case.” Stan chuckled and sat down in one of the empty chairs in front of the desk.

Lester followed suit. “We dumped the saved messages. She checked in with this Juan right after she got here, again that night, and a couple of times since them. She sent him a couple of guards’ names, Kelly’s name, and some other general stuff.”

“All things that might show up in an article.” Sonny looked at Stan. “Great job guys. Get the names of the guards to Rico so he can brief them just in case those maggots at the Post try to run anything.”

“You got it, boss.” Stan started scribbling on the pad Sonny slid over to him. “What do we do about Jangles or Juan or whatever the hell his name is?”

“Not much we can do. Maybe put a tail on him and see if he leads us anyplace interesting.” Sonny looked over at Rico. “Right now I think we need to talk to Ramona. Rico, you’ll be outside the room with Steve. Jenny and I will do the initial interview. If that doesn’t work we’ll switch it up.”

Rico pulled out his own phone and started punching numbers. “I’ll get Lita to pull her from her session. Where should she take her?”

“Observation 1. And tell Lita to take her time. We need to be there waiting for her.”

The observation rooms were designed for therapy, not interrogation, but Sonny didn’t have time to rearrange one to suit his purpose. All he could do was mess with one of the fluorescent fixtures so it flickered like an erratic heartbeat and turn the air conditioning down to chill the air. Little things, but he wanted Ramona as off-balance as he could manage.

“Welcome to the B Team,” he said with a smile as he waved Jenny to a seat. “I wish Marty was here. He’s really good at this stuff. Me? I get by. Tubbs and I usually traded off on the good cop/bad cop routine, but it might be best if you stuck with good cop.”

“You don’t think I can be mean?”

“I know you can, darlin’. But I want her to look for a friendly face. That and you’ve talked to her before.”

The door opened and Lita led in a short, thin girl with dark hair and pale skin. Without a word, the former DEA SWAT team commander pushed the girl into the one empty chair and left without a word. Damn! Perfect way to set the tone. She’s a pro. Sonny sat at an angle away from the girl, making a show of examining his fingernails. Jenny sat directly across from Ramona, and from the girl’s body language he could tell she smiled when she saw Jenny.

Ramona had a soft voice to match her pale skin. “Jenny! What’s all this…”

“Who gave you the phone?” Sonny spoke while still looking at his fingers, his voice pitched somewhere between bored and half-asleep.

She turned, eyes wide as she seemed to notice him for the first time. Or pretended to. He caught a quick flash of calculation in those eyes. “What phone? I don’t…”

Jenny seemed to pick up on what he was doing. Sonny guessed she’d been on the wrong side of more than a couple of interrogations back in her smuggling days. “You’re in trouble, Ramona. Lots of trouble. I hope you understand that.”

“But I…” And the tears started. Sonny almost laughed. Jenny hadn’t been kidding about that. “This is my one chance…”

“To tell the truth.” Sonny finished her sentence for her. “You get once chance. Blow it, and you’re gone.”

“I want to help, Ramona. I really do. And he’ll listen to me. But you have to be honest with us. It’s the only way you can get out of this.” She reached across the table and touched the girl’s hand. “You want to finish the program, right? You want to get off the streets and have a life., right?”

“I…yes. My pimp will kill me if you…”

“You don’t have a pimp.” Sonny’s voice was a thin whisper now. “You never had one. You’ve never been on the stroll. Never had to wonder if the guy whose car you just got into was going to pay you for the blowjob, rape you, or just kill you. You’ve never lived that life.”

“You don’t know!”

“Yes, I do, Ramona. I know all about you. Litte Havana isn’t a stroll. Not where you were picked up for that little possession beef. And Jangles? He ain’t no pimp.”

“See, Ramona? We do know. But we can also help you. But only if you help us.”

“I can’t…”

“No. What you can’t do is stay in this program if you keep lying. The phone’s yours. You were texting names of people who work for me.”

“See? We know. There’s no point in trying to hide it now, Ramona.” Jenny gave the girl’s hand a squeeze. “You like it here, don’t you? Good food. A chance to get clean. To get help. Maybe help some of the other girls. Some of them have had really hard lives.”

“Lives that make yours look like a private girls’ school. Can you imagine being turned out when you were twelve, princess? Raped and turned out? No, I bet you can’t. Hooked on smack so hard you’ll do anything, and I mean anything, to get that next fix. Bet you can’t even begin to imagine that.” His voice was a hiss barely audible over the HVAC system.

The tears were real this time, forcing themselves from someplace deep inside Ramona and making her whole body shake. “It wasn’t my idea. It was Jangles. He told me to do it. Said there was good money for me if I did. But I don’t think it was his idea, either. He’s got this friend. Hector. He scares me. I think it was his idea.”