Genesis Part I

[Robbie C.]

Ok, so the bug bit again in a big way...

Genesis is a novel based throughout the series...starting just before my story Rear View and finishing after Freefall when Sonny and Rico have both left the force. It may post slower than normal, because I'm working its events around both my stories and actual series episodes (so there's some event syncing to do, and I tend to write in real time...posting once something's done). When I can, I'll provide either links to my stories or notes about episodes so you can "fill in the blanks" if you want while you read.

This novel covers the rise and fall of the Mendoza brothers, who I've mentioned in a few of my stories already. It also covers the rise, fall, and eventual rebirth of the Vice unit. It's ambitious, but it's also something I've been wanting to try for a while now. Hope you enjoy (or at least don't throw things)!

 

Miami, 1982

The moon was a silver reflection on the calm water just offshore, with a handful of thin clouds sliding across the sky. A light breeze carried the faint sound of a motor over the sand, but the street noises killed it before it drew any attention. At least any official attention.

Miguel Mendoza lowered the bulky night binoculars and handed them to the taller man standing just to his right. “He looks to be on time.” He’d picked out the low shape of the high-powered speedboat easily enough in the flat seas.

Esteban Morales took the glasses with a shrug. “It’s his job to be on time, jefe.”

“So it is, my friend. But sometimes it’s good to make sure people do their jobs. And to let them know you saw them doing it.” He chuckled, showing even, white teeth. “Besides, we have paying customers waiting for those cigars.”

“And to line the pockets of that pig Castro.”

“Now, Esteban. The only pockets getting lined are those of a poor customs official back in Cuba who only wants to feed his family. And in turn helping line our pockets so we can feed our families.”

“I know. It’s just…”

“Difficult. Yes, I know.” Miguel clapped the taller man on the shoulder. At one time Esteban had been a member of one of the anti-Castro combat groups dotting the landscape of Florida’s Cuban expat community. If he wasn’t so damned good at his job, I’d let him go. But you can’t let good CIA training go to waste. “My family suffered also. So now we take what we can. Let’s go down and meet him. See what Jaime has for us tonight.”

At one time the small dock had been home to a fisherman of some kind. There was no way to tell now, of course. Miguel knew of it because his father and grandfather had both smuggled rum from the islands into Florida this way. Prohibition had been good to the Mendoza clan, and they’d been trying ever since to reclaim some of that luster. Cigars were a small start in that direction, pot a step up the ladder.

The boat idled up to the dock and the pilot cut the motor, making the sound of water slapping against the fiberglass hull louder than it really was. A figure detached itself from the low cockpit and jumped across with a line, making the boat fast before the actual pilot stood up. Miguel and Esteban had been waiting in the shadows, and stepped out into the moonlight as soon as the pilot was on the dock.

Jaime was a skinny kid with more balls than brains. But he knew two routes between Cuba and Miami like the back of his hand, and wasn’t afraid to make the run in any weather. It made him valuable. Now he was grinning, showing teeth ruined by too many cigarettes. “Hey! Miguel! Didn’t expect to see you tonight, mano! And we’re right on time, yes?”

Miguel made a show of looking at his watch. “To the minute, my friend. You earned your commission for sure. The usual cargo?”

“Yeah. Havana’s hand-wrapped finest. The usual quantity. And I picked up a bale of grass to go with it. Pad the margin a bit.”

“The cigars we have buyers for. The other…”

“Relax, boss. It’s not a big load. I’m sure I can find a buyer if you don’t have one lined up. It’s only fifty pounds.”

Miguel nodded, feeling Esteban’s anger beside him. “You need to clear these things first, Jaime. We stay in business because we’re careful, and this wasn’t careful.”

“See…that’s the thing.” Jaime took a step closer, and Miguel could see his eyes were wide with excitement. “Guy I got this from said he had a line on some other product, too. Tried to get me to take some, but I said I had to check with my jefe first.”

“So who is this guy?”

“He goes by the name Flaco, but that ain’t what matters. What matters is who’s behind him. A Columbian. Cat called Calderone.”

Calderone. That is a name I know. “So why should this Columbian be interested in us?”

“That I don’t know, jefe. Flaco didn’t say. Hell, I doubt if Flaco knows. He just does what he’s told. Like me.”

Sure you do, Jaime. Esteban might be right about you. “See to the cigars, Jaime. And keep the other as your commission. I’ll let you know if we will do business with this Flaco and whoever’s behind him. Am I clear?”

The pilot nodded, his head bobbing in the dim light, before he turned and headed back to help his partner unload the boat. As soon as he was out of earshot, Esteban snorted. “You see?”

“Yes, I do. But we don’t deal with him yet. What do you hear about this Columbian he mentioned?”

“That he’s a pig. Like all Columbians. That he’s an ambitious pig who’s trying to push his way into Miami. And that he deals in cocaine.”

“And let me guess…he has product but no reliable way to move it?”

“So it would seem. I’m afraid I don’t know much about him.”

“Find out, Esteban. By the end of the week if you can. There’s great deal of money to be made in this cocaine, but a lot of risk as well. I want to be sure before I make any changes.”

 

“So you’re turning on us?” Sonny Crockett chuckled as he looked over at the driver’s seat of the unmarked Ford.

“I wouldn’t call it that, Sonny.” Scotty Wheeler raised his binoculars again, looking in the direction of the boat shed.

“What would you call it? I mean, I get it. DEA’s a step up, and they did ask for you. Hope it wasn’t something I said.”

“Hell, don’t make it worse than it is. You know Donna and I love you and Caroline. How many family dinners did we have?”

“Yeah, I get it. They pay more and the benefits are better. Hell, I’d do the same thing if I was in your shoes.” Sonny thought back to Wheeler’s son, stuck in that chair. Hell, I’d do exactly the same thing, and sooner than he did. “Wait…I know. It had to be Lou’s cigars.”

“You got me there, partner. Just being in one briefing when he’s smoking those turds takes two years off your life.” He was about to continue, then paused and lowered the glasses. “We got movement down there. Looks like a pickup and three or four guys. Boat must have come in from the blind side.”

“You sure your CI said it was here?”

“Yep.” Wheeler set down the glasses and picked up a hand radio. “Move in. We’ve got ‘em.”

The arrest team already had the small shed surrounded by the time Wheeler got the big Ford down the dirt road. It felt slow somehow…almost too slow…but then the rush of the arrest took hold and Sonny was out the door with his SIG in his hand. Then he heard Wheeler chuckle.

“It’s not all glamor and bright lights in Vice, Sonny. Sometimes it’s just making the routine busts. Or reading punks their rights. Like now.” His own gun still holstered, Wheeler ambled over toward one of the cuffed men a uniform had leaning against his squad car. “Hey, Gusto. Good to see you again. You know the drill, right? You got the right to shut up and all that. Or you can tell me what you’ve got in that truck of yours and maybe we can make a deal.”

Sonny stuffed his SIG back in his shoulder holster, glad it was dark so the uniforms couldn’t see the red on his cheeks. Coming over from Robbery, he’d imagined Vice was going to be all running and gunning, especially when you were going after dealers. But he was learning just how routine it could be…and what he’d have to do if he wanted to see action.

He heard Wheeler laugh again and then his partner walked back to their car. “I’ve busted Gusto a couple of times,” he explained. “He’s a low-level driver and all-around hauler of other peoples’ goods. But those are the guys you need to get to the next link in the chain. Like tonight. He says he got a call to pick up a load of grass. Couple hundred pounds he says. A boat had already dropped the goods and gone, and the third guy was their guard.” He rubbed his chin. “Means the load is already bought and paid for.”

“So we got all geared up for a pot bust?”

“That’s the thing, Sonny. My CI only said a load was coming in tonight. Didn’t say what because he didn’t know what. We rolled the dice and came up lower than we hoped. But it wasn’t a dry hole, so that means my CI’s info was good.”

“Yeah, yeah. Vice 101. Again.” Sonny shook his head as he tapped a Lucky Strike out of the pack and lit it with his battered Ronson lighter. “At least you get to explain it to Lou.”

“Rodriguez will understand. He’s been in the game a long time, Sonny. And not too long back a couple of hundred pounds of pot would have been a first-class bust.” Wheeler turned away, and Sonny guessed he was looking out over the water. “But things change.”

“Yeah.” Sonny took a deep drag on the cigarette, not wanting to think about the last pot bust he’d been on.

He’d been deep enough in thought Wheeler’s voice almost made him jump. “You hear back on that SWAT guy you decked?”

“Slap on the wrist. IA called it a clean shoot.” Sonny closed his eyes, trying to forget the image of the bullet hitting Jimmie McStatten. And the grin on the SWAT guy’s face just before Sonny broke his nose. “Not sure how the hell blowing away an unarmed man counts as clean, but…”

“I heard he was one of those whacked-out vets.”

“Just drop it, Scotty.” Sonny didn’t want to talk about it. He’d done his best to push it all deep down. “All I know is if I run into that asshole again, he’s getting another broken nose.” At least.

Wheeler started to say something, then stopped. “Sorry, partner. I forgot you were in Nam, too. I should have been on that bust with you, but Lou wanted you to work an interagency on your own.”

“Whatever. If we’re done here, let’s blow this pop stand.” He took a final drag on the cigarette before flicking it away, watching it spin like a tumbling firefly before landing somewhere down the gravel road.

They rode in silence for a time, and then Wheeler started talking. Mostly about the case. “Gusto’s good for transportation information only, and even then only what he does. Stays in his lane and doesn’t cause problems, so people keep coming back to him. He’ll probably get sprung in the morning because he’ll say someone only hired his truck and he had no idea what they were loading on it. All bullshit, of course, but he sings a good tune in court and having him on the street works in our favor.”

“Cause he’s a known face you can follow.” Sonny was still looking out the window at the passing darkness. Soon enough they’d be back in Miami proper.

“That’s right, Sonny. The more faces you know, the more connections you can make.”

“I get that, Scotty. But Lou’s been chewing our asses about the amount of cocaine that’s starting to come in again…”

“That’s because the bosses are chewing his ass.” Wheeler kept his eyes focused on the road. “Look, the thing is Gusto’s good at what he does, which means bigger fish are going to start wanting his services. Coke is higher risk, but higher reward. In the time I’ve been busting him, Gusto’s moved from Cuban cigars to weed, and then bigger quantities of weed. The next jump…”

“Bolivian marching powder.” Sonny nodded. He could see the sense in it, but it felt too slow to him. Why not put an undercover in to force the pace? A buyer to push this Gusto punk into making bigger moves? But he held his peace. He knew Wheeler was from the ‘slow and steady’ school of policing. And his friend made big busts. No question there.

Wheeler seemed to be reading his thoughts. “Yeah, we could put someone in play to push ol’ Gusto along, but then we risk burning a source who could be useful down the line. That and he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He does something wrong, the bigger fish screams entrapment and walks. Seen it happen before, Sonny. These guys can afford big lawyers. You want to take ‘em down, you need to wrap them up tight. It’s not like the speed cooks out in the swamps.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Sonny reached into the inside pocket of his blazer and pulled out the Luckies. The flare of his lighter outlined the sharp lines of his chin and nose. “Still adjusting, I guess. Over in Robbery, when you got a line on a home invasion crew you rolled. And if you could push ‘em out in the open with a fake score, you jumped on it. That was John Malone’s style. This is…”

“A different game. And I want you to be ready to step into it the exact second I transfer out.” Wheeler’s laugh filled the car. “Watch an’ learn, Sonny. Soon enough I’ll be DEA and you can run an’ gun all you want. And deal with Momma Lou.”

A light glowed dim in the living room of the Crockett home when the car rolled to a stop in front. Sonny took a last drag on his cigarette and sighed. “Looks like I’m in the dog house. Again.”

“You want me to…”

“Naw. No reason for her to be mad at you, too.”

“The guys we chase don’t punch a time clock, Sonny.” Wheeler put the big car in Drive and gave him a wink. “Just duck when you go through the door.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Sonny forced a smile as he slammed the passenger side door and Wheeler rolled off into the night. Funny…his wife gets it and Caroline never does. We pulled odd shifts in Robbery, too, and I told her this wouldn’t be any different. He was halfway up the walk when the door opened.

“The least you could have done was called.” Her voice was low, pitched so he could hear and not the neighbors. Caroline was always big on appearances.

“I know, but this was a last-minute thing. When Scotty told me we were out of the office and…”

“I thought this was going to be different.”

He bit back his words until they were inside and the door was closed. “Caroline, I never said that. In fact, I told you this would be worse than Robbery. But Vice is the biggest league there is. I…”

“You should have been here to tuck your son into bed, Sonny. Not out there doing God knows what with God knows who.”

“If you mean sitting in a Ford with Scotty Wheeler, who wears too much cologne, then yeah, I would rather have been here.” He stopped, knowing he was about to go too far. “But it’s the Job, Caroline. And Scotty’s just trying to teach me everything he can before he moves over to the DEA. You know that. He’s the best, and I can learn from him just like I learned from John.”

“And what can either of them teach you about us?” She stared at him for a time, then turned. “I’m going to bed. You’d better take the couch.”

Sonny stared at her back for a long moment. “Sure.” Then the bedroom door closed and he was alone with the single side table light and his thoughts. He started to curse, then thought better of it. Billy could be a light sleeper, and the last thing the kid needed was to see this. With a long sigh he flopped down on the couch, stretching out as best he could. Morning would come soon enough, and he wanted to be out of the house before Caroline or Billy were up.

 

“You’re sure they didn’t see you?” Miguel Mendoza looked up from his morning coffee.

“Si, jefe. They were too busy busting Gusto’s load to notice us.” Jaime sat down uninvited and reached for coffee. “Gusto never was good at security once the cargo was ashore.”

Miguel started to snap, then pulled back. Better to let it go for now. But as soon as I no longer need him… He caught Esteban’s eye and gave a slight shake of his head. “Who was he carrying for?”

“No idea. Gusto ain’t too picky about loads. He doesn’t need to be, though. All he does is the dirt-side stuff.” Jaime laughed. “Toss it in that damned pickup of his and go. Not like us, eh?”

“But don’t forget, Jaime, not all that long ago you were just like him. It’s always good to remember where you came from.”

“Yeah.” Jaime’s smile faded as the threat sank in. “Look, jefe, I get it. I don’t know how the cops got onto Gusto’s operation. If I had to guess, it would be through those Dominicans he was working with. They smoke too much of their own product an’ don’t know how to keep their mouths shut. And I already got rid of what I brought, so you got no worries there, either.”

Miguel nodded, then looked at his watch. It was still early, but the small café would start filling soon enough. “I have a meeting soon, Jaime. Why don’t you go check the boat? The engine sounded like it was running rich last night.”

“Still you have a good ear! It is, and I need to see to it before the next trip.” Jaime finished his coffee in two messy swallows and left the table.

Once he was gone, Esteban sat down and shook his head. “That one is trouble.”

“I know. But for now we need him. Maybe not for much longer, though.”

“Did you need me here?”

“No. Better if Enrique doesn’t see you. He’s my brother, but he also talks too much. No need for him to know about you or your work. Not yet, at least.”

“Of course.” One of Esteban’s great gifts was his ability to disappear into a crowd. Within moments he had faded away, but Miguel knew he was close by if anything went wrong.

In truth he wasn’t looking forward to the meeting. Enrique, or Ricky as he liked to be called, was brash, cocky, and always moving at full speed. But if the business was to expand, he’d need to bring Ricky in. The kid was good with anything with an engine, and had the nerves to run a boat right under the noses of the Coast Guard without batting an eye. But he also had big dreams, and didn’t always know when to control them.

“Miguel!” The familiar voice cut through the growing noise of the café. “Brother! It’s been too long.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Ricky. It’s been a week. Maybe a day more.” Still, Miguel smiled as he waved the shorter Mendoza to an open chair. It was hard not to smile at his enthusiasm sometimes. “And it wouldn’t have been so long if you hadn’t have insisted on running that race.”

“How could I not? There’s something about taking one of those Cigarette boats through the Keys that sends a man’s heart pumping.” Ricky poured himself coffee from the press and took a drink. “But this tastes a damned sight better than a mouthful of salt water. You can be sure of that.”

They talked for a few minutes, mostly about the race and the women Ricky chased any time he stopped racing. Then the younger Mendoza leaned back in his chair and fixed Miguel with a knowing stare. “But you didn’t ask me here for my fuck stories, even though they are superb. What’s going on, Miguel?”

“We may have an opportunity. With the business.” Lowering his voice, Miguel told Ricky what he’d learned from Jaime. “It would be a big step up for us, but I’d rather it be made by family and not…”

“Obnoxious hired help.” Ricky grinned and helped himself to more coffee. “I understand, my brother. Jaime is good with boats, but his brains leave something to be desired. And he’s not as good with boats as I am.”

“My point exactly. Look, I want you to go with him on a couple of runs. Learn what he knows, and maybe make friends with his friends.”

“The cigar people?”

Miguel sat silent for a time, letting the thought roll in his head. “No,” he said finally. “The other ones. I’ve seen the money some of those monkeys are making, and it’s time the Mendoza family claimed its rightful share.”

“You mean cocaine?” Ricky kept his voice down, something Miguel knew took a great deal of will for the younger man.

“Yes. There is more risk, but the rewards are much greater. And no one knows as many ways from the islands into Miami as our family.”

“That’s no shit. Cousin Jesus has forgotten more ways in than those monkeys will ever know…”

“We must speak with him, too. Have him plan some routes for us.” Miguel smiled inside, but kept his face plain. “I leave that to you. You both speak the same language…that of boats and the sea. Me? I have…”

“You have other interests. Like running the business and keeping us on course.” Ricky flashed another grin. “But I have heard things about this trade. Especially the Columbians. They are very protective of their product, and quick to lash out if someone tries to cut in.”

“But we won’t be. We will provide a service they lack…the ability to get into Miami without leaving a trace.” And later we will take our share of their trade as well, but why be greedy at first? “They aren’t good at that.” He finished his coffee and got to his feet. “I’ll set up a meeting for you with Jaime.”

 

Sonny Crockett’s hair was still damp from the locker room shower, but at least he wasn’t late for the morning briefing. He slipped in just before Lieutenant Rodriguez came out of his office, shooting Wheeler a wry grin and nodding when his partner mouthed ‘banished to the couch?’ in his direction. Rolling his shoulders to loosen a kink in his neck, Sonny opened his notebook and waited for the show to start.

Lou Rodriguez took his time puffing a stumpy cigar to life before settling in at his spot at the head of the conference room table. He peered around through the cloud of smoke. “Any word on that bust last night, Wheeler? Or are you making Crockett read all your reports now?”

“Not yet, Lou. We’re still working on his reading.”

Sonny forced a chuckle. “Very funny, Scotty. Very funny.”

“Anyhow, we rolled up Gusto and a couple of other meatheads who were moving about two hundred pounds of Jamaican reefer from a boat shed into Gusto’s ride. We think a boat dropped it off about an hour before that, and left one guy behind to keep an eye on things.” Wheeler grinned. “The one guy, incidentally, who isn’t talking.”

“Doesn’t sound like much. Especially when I compare it to the sales job you put on to get the resources…”

“I know, lieutenant. Look, Gusto isn’t always one hundred percent reliable. Or maybe he didn’t know exactly what the load was going to be. But it’s still two hundred pounds of weed that won’t hit the street. I promise I’ll do better before my transfer goes through.”

“See that you do. I don’t want you holding onto some big bust just to impress your new friends.” Lou smiled just enough to show he was kind of joking, but Sonny got the message.

They went around the room, each team giving an update on their case of the moment. He didn’t pay much attention to the squad’s two tech guys…Stanley Switek and Larry Zito. They were working some kind of pawn shop sting or another, but they tended to make him nervous. Might be good enough beat cops, but I just don’t know about ‘em here. The other two detectives, Gina Calabrese and Trudy Joplin, were gathering intelligence on a new pimp, and they were still wearing their ‘working’ clothes. He gave them both admiring glances in spite of himself. Especially Gina.

Something about Gina had always tugged at him…starting with her resemblance to his high school girlfriend Barbara. She was, as his uncle used to say, ‘full in all the right places’ and always had a smile for him. Even when he was a rookie fresh in from Robbery four years ago and no one else would give him the time of day. He knew he was heading into dangerous waters, but with Caroline being the way she was…

“Crockett, you and Scotty hang back. The rest of you, thanks for your time.” Lou’s voice cut through his daydream and he wondered what he’d missed or done wrong this time.

“It was my plan, Lou. Not his. If anything…”

Rodriguez held up his hand. “It’s not about your little reefer collection, Scotty. It’s about Crockett needing his own cover now. With you defecting to the Feds, he’s going to have to operate on his own until we get another detective in here. And even then, he’ll need to be in a position to take the lead on cases.”

Sonny nodded. “I’m all ears, lieutenant.”

“We’ll see. I read your file…it says you’re good with boats.”

“Yeah. Grew up on the water, and both my dad and uncles were into boats. I can handle most things, sailboats to those airboats and anything in-between.”

“Good, because you’re about to become a boat guy. You both remember the Leone bust a couple of months back? Well, property finally cleared the watercraft. You already have that fancy car, Sonny, and now you’ll be able to complete the look.” The smile on Lou’s face was just this side of sarcastic, and Sonny bit back the reply forming on his lips. “The drug trade’s changing, and we have to keep up. You’ll have a sailboat at the marina, and one of those Stinger boats to go with it.”

“A boat guy of questionable means. I like it.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. You’ll need a name.”

“Best to stick with your actual first name if you can.” Wheeler rested his elbows on the table. “Makes it easier to react if someone shouts at you. And it helps if the last name’s close as well.”

Sonny nodded. He’d heard Wheeler’s ‘Ten Top Tips for Undercover Work’ speech before, the first time less than five minutes after they’d been officially made partners. But it made sense.

“We don’t have all day, Crockett.”

He started to speak, then a name popped into his head. One he hadn’t heard in years, but was close enough to his own last name he knew it would work. “Burnett,” he said without hesitation. “That’s B-U-R-N-E-double T. Almost the same as Crockett.”

“I like it.” Wheeler nodded, winking in Lou’s direction.

“Well in spite of that, I’ll take it.” Lou got to his feet, sending a final cloud of cigar smoke into the air. “You’ll have a fully backstopped cover for Sonny Burnett by the end of the day. I expect you to have something set up at the marina by the end of the week. And the sailboat? It’s a 42 foot Endeavour named The St. Vitus’ Dance. Don’t ask me why. And no, you can’t change the name.”

Sonny kept staring at Lou’s back until the lieutenant was out of the room. Then he turned to Wheeler. “How the hell am I gonna… She was mad enough last night when I was late. A cover like this is gonna send her right through the roof.”

“You want to stay in Vice, Sonny, it’s what you have to do. There was one case just before you joined the unit, I got stuck in an apartment down by Little Haiti for almost a month. Locals took to calling me Saltine…you know, cracker.” Wheeler chuckled. “Got a good bust out of it, though. They had a tight little numbers racket going on down there.”

“Yeah.” Sonny looked out the widow at the squad room, his gaze lingering on Gina for a moment before moving on. “Guess I’d better put my flack jacket on and go break the news.”

Wheeler got to his feet. “Let me come with you. It might make it easier for her to understand if I’m with you. I can at least tell her how it works and why it has to be done. And it’s a good cover. Dealers aren’t gonna shoot the people who move their product, so it’s safer than sending you in posing as a buyer.”

“Every little bit helps, man. Funny thing is, I thought she understood all this.” Sonny slipped on his sunglasses as they walked through the squad room. Hell, why lie? She doesn’t understand any of it. And doesn’t want to. She had her way, I’d be selling cars with her brother and blowing my brains out after two weeks.

[sdiegolo78]

Nice one, especially the parts about Sonny at OCB with Wheel and Rodriguez, how the "Burnett" cover came to be and the domestic situation with Caroline that propel the pilot.

[Robbie C.]

Hope you enjoy the rest of it, too!

[sdiegolo78]

On 11/22/2023 at 2:47 AM, Robbie C. said:

Hope you enjoy the rest of it, too!

I did indeed!
And when Sonny thinks about Scotty's son stuck in a wheelchair and doesn't blame his partner for taking the DEA offer, better salary and all benefits. It's a foreshadowing of the pilot. That scene at Wheeler's porch when Sonny confronts him about becoming Calderone's mole and the betrayal...

[Robbie C.]

Yep. And by the whole thing I meant the novel, not just this chapter. There's quite a bit of it if you're interested.

Edited November 24, 2023 by Robbie C.