Genesis, Part XI

[Robbie C.]

“You see that thing on the news this morning?”

Sonny Crockett rubbed his eyes before answering. “Yeah…something about dead bodies and a burned boat. And Cubans.” He reached for his coffee cup. “That’s why you don’t stick your nose in Little Havana, Rico.”

“Except the stiff wasn’t Cuban. Some joker named Joaquin Falcone. Him and his cousins.”

“Small time, Rico. One guy with a boat he thought was fast and two cousins who’d seen Scarface more than was good for them.”

Stan Switek looked up from a report he was bashing out on an electric typewriter. “Hey! I know that guy. Knew him, anyhow. I guess his head’s scattered all over the front of that boat shed.”

“I didn’t know you worked Little Havana.”

“I don’t Sonny. And neither did he. Last I heard he was trying to move into the powder market. Lar and I bumped into him when we were working that numbers racket over by Liberty City. Him and his two cousins. They worked enforcement for the numbers runner, an’ I think Falcone was still moving pot. That right, Lar?”

Larry Zito looked up from his own report and nodded, his lank hair bobbing with the movement. “Sure. I remember them. Dumber than rocks. But Joaquin had ambition. No brains, but ambition. Heard one of the cousins had a beef with someone over in Brickell not too long ago.”

“It’s not our case.” Martin Castillo’s voice echoed from the doorway to his office, ending all speculation. “Homicide’s taking it. Gangs might be involved, too. I want an update on Pelican’s Nest.”

Sonny nodded. What Stan and Larry said was sticking in his brain, but he could also see Castillo was in a mood. And only a complete idiot provoked Castillo when he was in a mood. “I’m meeting Forsythe this afternoon, and Rico’s got a line on Blade around the same time. I don’t think I’ll need backup for the cigar deal. Otis ain’t the kind to try a rip.”

“You’ll be wired. You or your boat. Your call on which, but there will be a wire.”

“Roger that, lieutenant. Stan, you got something that will work on the boat? Otis might not check me, but I don’t know who he’s dealing with.”

“You got it, Sonny.” Stan nodded and started digging through one of his larger desk drawers. “Got a rig in here Larry and I were working on. It’s good out to thirty yards or so, and it’s a fixed unit so there’s no transmissions to detect or go south.”

“Set it up on the boat as soon as you can. For all I know Otis might want to go today.” Sonny grinned. “Don’t worry. Elvis is on the Dance. He don’t like the Scarab much. It upsets his stomach.”

“We may be pulled off this in a couple of days.” Castillo’s voice was flat, and Sonny watched as he rubbed his eyes for a moment. “There’s an assignment in the pipeline the chief wants us to give our full attention to.”

“Come on, lieutenant!” Sonny snapped in spite of himself. “This is the closest we’ve ever gotten to Newton Blade, and it might be our only real chance to get something worthwhile on Forsythe. Can’t someone else…”

“No. I offered Dibble and Gorman, but they’re not the right fit for this assignment.”

Sonny was about to snap again when Rico stepped in. “How long do we have, lieutenant?”

“Two days at the most.” Castillo looked up for a moment. “Make them count.”

Once Castillo returned to his office, Sonny sat down with a snarl. “Damned politics, Rico. This has politics written all over it. Someone’s wife got her panties in a twist because she saw a hooker near her favorite beach and now we gotta do a sweep.”

“It’s the Job, Sonny.” Rico sat down with a grin. “You know that. Comes with the territory.”

“Yeah, I know. I know.” Sonny glared at the stack of files on the corner of his desk. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He paused, letting some thoughts slide into place. “Hey, Larry! You get a chance, see if you can find out what Falcone’s cousin was beefing about in Brickell. Something doesn’t feel right about that whole thing.”

“Sure, Sonny. You know, there’s new clubs going into Brickell.” Larry gave a lopsided grin. “New markets and all that.”

“You don’t say…” Sonny let the thought rattle around with the other loose facts in his head. Then he looked at his watch. “We’d better get rollin’, Rico, if we want to make our dates.”

 

“Excellent work with that Falcone cockroach.” Miguel Mendoza stood on the balcony overlooking a swimming pool and manicured yards. Next to the study this was his favorite place in the entire house. “The press are busy chattering about Cuban gangsters, and the police are going in circles.”

Esteban Morales shifted from one foot to the other. “It was sloppy, jefe. Successful, but sloppy. I need more time to recruit and train men. As we’re discussed before.”

“And I understand your concerns, Esteban. Really, I do. But time is not something we have in this business. Ricky’s man is opening up Brickell to us now that Falcone is gone, and Santos is getting impatient.”

A quick flash of anger touched Esteban’s eyes. “Screw that Bolivian bastard. He’s just lucky he didn’t seriously damage any of those girls he wanted. As it is, I hear the cops are sniffing around one or two of them. Looking for statements.”

“There’s nothing to connect back to us?”

“No, jefe. Not that I know of, at least.” Esteban sniffed. “My men were not involved with that at all.” He paused. “Do you want me to…”

“No. If we move against them, it makes the police dig more. If these girls can only point to Santos or his apes, it’s not our problem. He’s out of Metro-Dade’s reach in any case.” Miguel smiled. “No, we let that one go. But to your manpower problem…maybe we should have two squads. One you use for simple things, and a smaller one trained to your standards who can take on the hard jobs. Do you have man you can trust without question?”

“Lupe.” There was no hesitation in Esteban’s voice. “A couple more after that, but Lupe was part of my combat group.”

“Of course.” Miguel didn’t hint at what he thought of the old Cubans still replaying the Bay of Pigs in the swamps around Miami. “Place him in charge of the lesser men. Use them like we talked about before…boat security, warehouse guards, maybe muscle for the occasional deal. Small things requiring brawn but not necessarily skill. Your others…”

“Hold them in the palm of my hand and use them for the difficult tasks.”

“Exactly. We talked about this before, but then it was an idea. Now, I think it’s the way we must proceed.” Miguel looked down, seeing a slender girl in a black bikini stand for a moment beside the pool before diving in and starting to swim laps. Another of Ricky’s toys? He needs to be more careful about bringing them here. If papa sees one... “But with Falcone out of the way, he take our next step. Let me know what you need. And keep an eye on those girls.”

Miguel stayed on the balcony after Esteban left, admiring the slim form and graceful moves of the girl in the pool. He had to admit his brother had excellent taste in women, even if he lacked a certain level of discretion with them. He smiled. People often compared him to a pirate based on his looks, but Ricky had the more swashbuckling temperament.

“I think she has a cousin.”

“And I suppose you’ve slept with her as well, yes?” Miguel chuckled. “There’s no way I could keep up with you even if I tried, brother.”

Ricky laughed as he strolled out on the balcony. “It helps me relax. You should try it sometime.”

“Maybe once we get settled with Santos I will. But for now there’s just too much to do.”

“I saw Falcone went up in smoke. Our doing, I’d guess, even though I know nothing about that.”

“And if for some reason the police were to ask, you’d be answering them honestly. Just like I’d answer honestly if they asked me who operated our boats or what routes they take.” Miguel finally took his eyes off the girl, but the memory of her slim legs stayed in his brain. “It’s…”

“…better that way. Yes, I know. And I agree. Still, it’s a good thing he’s gone. And his cousin with him. Now my man can work his magic in Brickell.” Ricky grinned. “We already have a line into one of the newer clubs, and the other is even bigger with a richer client base. I don’t plan to sell directly to them, though. Only to the dealers who service the market. And those men won’t know where the coke comes from. Just that it’s available and of high quality.”

“Good. I’ll be giving you some men to guard your operations. They aren’t of the same caliber as the ones who handled Falcone, but they can shoot straight and follow orders.”

Ricky laughed again, loud enough this time that the girl in the pool stopped swimming and looked up at them. “I wasn’t laughing at you, Holly. Keep swimming! Enjoy the morning!” He turned back to Miguel. “That’s exactly what we need. Men to ride along when we meet with Santos’ apes and also to watch the deals on shore.”

“Give me a number when you can. I’ll send them to the boat sheds and tell them to follow your orders without question. If any give trouble, let me know.” His eyes stayed back to the pool for a moment, and he felt a familiar pain. Later. This isn’t the time. “The gators always need feeding.”

 

“Sonny! Rico! Just in time for coffee! And I must say the kitchen here makes the best damned cup in the city.” Otis Forsythe, dressed in an immaculate yachting jacket and pale yellow shirt with a darker yellow tie, looked up from the morning paper. “Please. Join me. “Kyle! Two cups and a pot if you please.”

Sonny nodded and sat. “Thanks, Otis, but I ain’t got much time to chat. Time is money, or so they tell me.”

“Yes, I do believe some vulgar Yankees do claim that.” Otis smiled. “But speed doesn’t always equal profit. Or so grandpappy said.”

Rico chuckled, accepting a cup from the waiter and watching him pour steaming coffee. “I see Newton’s supertanker is still tied up. The man come ashore yet?”

“Heavens no! I don’t think Newton is upright before noon. But he did mention last night he was anxious to talk to you, Rico. I expect him sometime around two. Maybe later if some of his lady friends happened to remain on board.”

“You might be on your own, Cooper.” Sonny pitched his voice into the ‘impatient Burnett’ range. “I got business this afternoon. One way or the other.” He shot Otis a penetrating glance. “Your little job still on?”

“Of course. But not until this evening. These things are better handled at night, don’t you agree?” Otis reached into the side pocket of his jacket and came up with a card. “Have your boat at this dock before ten tonight. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Sonny glanced at the card before dropping it in his own jacket pocket. They’d track the address later. “Don’t be late.”

“I should say the same to you. I don’t expect this will take more than an hour. Maybe two if there are pesky Coast Guard patrols.” Otis smiled again. “But I don’t anticipate that. We’re going into quiet waters.” Then he seemed to dismiss Sonny. “Rico, would you care for a bite of lunch while we wait? I expect Sonny has that business to attend to.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you tonight. Cooper, you good to get back to your hotel?”

“Solid. This could take awhile.”

Sonny finished his coffee and got to his feet. He didn’t like leaving Rico alone, but he’d already played the other business card. There wasn’t any way he could linger without raising Otis’s suspicions. And he knew Otis had a well-honed sense of caution, no matter how good his Southern fried fruit act happened to be. “I’ll see you tonight, Otis.”

 

“Always busy, that one. But you…”

Rico chuckled. “I pick my spots. And right now this is a spot for taking it easy.”

Otis nodded around his Cuban sandwich. “Oh, I agree, Rico. One hundred percent. But Newton, he might not. I can never tell with that boy. One minute he’s the very picture of bone idle, and the next he’s simply abuzz with ideas and activity. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was sampling his own product. But our Newton’s far too careful for that.”

“Solid. Only a fool has himself for a customer in that line of work.”

“And here he is now! Newton, you’re running a bit early today.”

Newton Blade flashed one of his room-spanning smiles. “Otis. And Mr. Cooper. May I join you, gentlemen?” He slid into a chair without waiting for a reply, angling it to one side so he could stretch out his long legs. Rico noticed he was wearing Armani. Rumpled, but still Armani. No mistaking that needlework. “Just coffee for me, thanks,” he said when the waiter appeared. “I have an engagement elsewhere before too long.”

“I thought we had business to discuss.”

“We do, Rico. The thing is, I don’t have a lot of room in the investment portfolio at the moment. My clubs are at max, and I need to add a couple more artists before I can start moving money through concert tours again.” He smiled again. “A big investor came on board shortly after we spoke. But I may be able to offer you something else. Recreational products. A wide variety of them.”

“I like the sound of that. But the thing is, Newton, my people have very specific needs. Things they want but can’t get locally. All driven by market forces, you know.”

“Isn’t everything?”

“With the Revillas gone, their old product is choking the streets.” Rico grinned. “Like a dam broke the second they went under. Everyone started selling everything they’d been holding on to.” He leaned forward. “But what they don’t have…”

Half an hour later Rico stopped at the coat check desk to order a cab. The meet had gone well on the whole. He had Blade on the hook for a test shipment of heroin and some pills from some mill in South America. Not much, but enough to keep the investigation moving. Of course none of it would touch Blade’s hands. He just made ‘introductions’ and took a broker’s fee.

He had the cab drop him a block or so away from Gold Coast Shipping and walked the rest of the way, using the time to plan his next move. The air wasn’t New York crisp, but it also wasn’t thick enough to cut with a knife. A grin floated across his face as he imagined Otis Forsythe referring to this as a constitutional. Sonny was right. The man’s a pure character. But I’d bet there’s a lot of steel under that manicured pose. Cat like him don’t last long without it. Even down here.

Gina looked up from a report on her desk and smiled. “You look like the cat who got the canary, Rico.”

“Yeah, I guess I kinda did. Got old Newton Blade to agree to broker a couple of deals. Not something we can bust him for, but it’s a way in.”

“Sonny will be jealous. He’s been after that character for years.” Gina looked down at the folder again. “I managed to track down one of the hookers who got beat up by the Bolivians. She identified Santos all right, but she also said there was a local guy there for a few minutes. I think he’s the one who hired them even though she didn’t want to say so. Does the name Pasqual Benitez mean anything to you?”

Rico was about to shake his head when Sonny’s voice echoed across the squad room. “Pasqual’s a two-bit boat jockey who used to make pot runs between ‘de islands’ and Miami. I think he used to work for a charter service before he bought or stole a boat and struck out on his own.”

“He ever do any pimping on the side?”

“Naw. Too big-time for him. He was always just into his boats as far as I know.” Sonny sat down with a sigh. “Can’t say’s I ever worked him, though.”

“So how did a small-time chump get hooked up with a Bolivian player?” Rico scratched the back of his head, trying to sort it out in his head. “Cat like Santos should be way above his league.”

“Damned if I know, Rico. Maybe he got lucky.”

“Or maybe he’s frontin’ for someone else.” Rico turned. “Gina, we got any known associates with this punk?”

“Not really, Rico. Like Sonny said, he’s small-time. I’ll run it through the system and see what comes up, though.”

“Solid. Thanks, pretty lady. I owe you one.”

“More like ten, Rico.” Still, she smiled. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

Nodding again, he turned back to Sonny. “You good to go for your little excursion tonight? Better be careful, or ol’ Otis might put the moves on you out there on the deep blue sea under the light of the moon.”

“You need to update your score card, Rico. Hell, Otis has three mistresses I know of, each one pulled straight from a Playboy centerfold.”

Larry chuckled. “That’s no shit, Sonny. His latest is this redhead with curves you can’t even begin to imagine. She won a ‘Best Bed-Breaker’ award at the Tallahassee Adult Film Showcase back in ’83.”

Castillo’s low whisper cut through the noise in the squad room like he was using a bullhorn. “Write up your report on the Blade case, Tubbs. Crockett, keep your run with Forsythe tonight, but beg off any more runs for the time being. I just got off the phone. We’re being pulled off all active cases effective tomorrow. Top priority.”

“Come on, lieutenant.” Rico could hear the rising anger in Sonny’s voice. “Rico’s got the first in on Blade we’ve had in over three years! We can’t…”

“Sonny’s right, lieutenant. We gotta…”

“No. This comes from the top. They want the entire unit focusing on an operation in an old hotel down by the waterfront. It’s a massage parlor run by a man called Ivory that caters to high-end clients. Including a few city council members. The mayor’s concerned, which means…”

“Yeah, yeah. That the chief’s concerned, so we have to be concerned. I get it, lieutenant.” Sonny leaned back in his desk chair. “I get it, but I don’t have to like it.”

“We do our jobs. Or we drop our badges.”

Rico spoke quickly, hoping to head off another outburst from his partner. One thing he’d learned on NYPD was the fine art of politicking the bosses. “We’re on it, lieutenant. I can tell Blade I have to head back to New York. Or maybe I’ll just let Cooper get swept up in the sting. He’s the kind of cat who’d use a service like that, and getting busted and then sprung only adds to the cover.” He smiled, hoping it was enough to cover his own anger. Damned politicians need to learn to keep it in their pants.

OCB shifts to Junk Love

It had been a couple of weeks since Miguel met with Jesus Estevez. His mother’s brother, Jesus had been running fishing and charter boats through the Keys and beyond for over three decades. A stocky man with a mahogany tan and hair bleached white by sun and salt, Jesus was careful to stay well clear of product, though Miguel knew he’d run his share in his younger days. Now it was fat tourists and their Hemingway fantasies, as well as cleaning a significant amount of cash for his enterprising nephew.

Jesus swirled the rum in his glass, watching the ice cubes spin. “I told you I can’t handle any more.”

“I know, uncle. That’s why I asked to see you.” Miguel was careful to phrase it so he didn’t remind Jesus it was he who’d sent for the older man. “You don’t need to worry about taking any more. I’ve found another cleaner for some of the money.” He raised his hand. “You’ll still get your share. I’m not taking any away from you. Just not adding to your troubles.”

Jesus nodded, his large head moving almost in slow motion. “And what do you ask for this?”

I’d almost forgotten how cagey the old bastard is. “Nothing much. Just a few more routes. Ones through the Keys or some of the smaller offshore islands. Ones a single, fast boat can handle.”

“You’re ambitious, Miguel. Your father always missed that.” Jesus took a long sip of rum. “Just don’t let your ambition run away with you.”

“No danger of that, uncle. Enrique is the risk-taker. I prefer to go slow.”

“So you were paying attention.” Jesus smiled. “Back when it was cigars and rum in the hold instead of your more modern cargo.” He raised his hand. “I don’t need to know what it is, of course.”

“The cargo may have changed, but some things stay the same. How many runs did we make with no problems while the men with the fast boats were being snapped up by the Coast Guard?”

“More than I can remember. But you must do more than move product these days. I see the money.”

“It is more involved these days, yes. If you want to survive in this business, you have to control as much of it as you can without taking too many risks. So we’ve had to expand, yes. But not into direct sales. We supply the streets, but we don’t stand on the corners.”

“Good. You know, I still hear things. Whispers mostly, but sometimes they’re useful. Columbians have been turning up again, and it’s said they’re both ambitious and violent. You should take care.”

“Oh, I have, uncle. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Still using Cubans?” Jesus nodded when Miguel didn’t reply. “Good. They’re good soldiers. A bit unstable sometimes, but they know their stuff and how to follow orders.”

He nodded, thinking back to what Esteban had said about needing more men. Soon I might have to bring in others, though. It’s all about putting them where they can be useful without doing damage. “I wish we had more family we could count on.”

“Nothing like the security of blood. But I agree. There isn’t much to this new generation.” Jesus snorted. “Take your cousin Gustavo. I offered him a job on one of my fishing charters. Good pay, and he’d learn the family business the right way. But no. He wants to be some kind of street bandit.”

Miguel nodded. Gustavo was an idiot, but an ambitious one. He knew the younger man wanted to be part of what Miguel was building, but Gustavo wasn’t cut out for it. Still he kept trying, looking to prove himself in some impossible way. “We have a couple of Aunt Esmerelda’s sons working the boats, but so far that’s it. As you said, they don’t understand what it takes.”

“They’ve had it too easy. Living off your grandfather’s money and assuming it’s what they deserve.” Jesus slammed his hand down on the table. “Lazy bastards! Not one of them is fit to wipe Guillermo’s ass, let alone follow in his footsteps.” He sat for a moment, then pulled out a handkerchief and wiped glistening sweat from his forehead. “You’ve done well, Miguel. You and Enrique. Don’t tell me any more about what you do…I don’t need to know. You’ll have charts for those routes tomorrow morning. I’ll send one of my boys over with them personally.”

They talked for a few more minutes, mostly about storms they’d been through and marlins they’d caught, and then Miguel walked Jesus to the door. When the older man was gone, he leaned against the jam and sighed. Once they had the new routes in hand he could have Enrique start moving the new Bolivian product. What the old man had said about Columbians didn’t worry him. They were like cockroaches…always turning up no matter how quickly you squashed them.

He just hoped he could keep his promise. Santos wanted to move large quantities, and he didn’t know how much cash Newton Blade could handle at any given time. And there was the question of pipelines. If Brickell didn’t pan out for some reason he’d have to start from scratch, which meant sitting on product for what could be weeks. Maybe it was time to pick up another warehouse or two, or maybe some discrete properties on the edges of the city.

Santos. More and more he regretted getting involved with the Bolivian snake. It was good to have what could be a steady, dependable supply, but it was another thing if that supply came with too many strings attached. With another sigh Miguel turned and started back up the stairs. Maybe it was time to start planning for a future not including Santos. But he needed a solid network first. Supply. Dealers. And all the parts between those two things. Calderone had the right idea; he’d just gone about it the wrong way. Miguel smiled. He just needed to make sure they went about it the right way.