Genesis, Part XX

[Robbie C.]

Maimi, 1987

After Payback

 

“I think the only way we’re gonna get him is to throw some money his way.”

Ricardo Tubbs looked across his desk at Sonny Crockett and nodded. “Yeah. We been watchin’ him for weeks now, and he’s done nothing but drool all over that stripper’s legs and other assorted body parts. I was hoping something might break loose while we were shutting down Joe Dalva, but…”

Sonny nodded, and Rico saw a familiar gleam in his partner’s eyes. “Yeah. And right now he’s our only way into the Mendozas. Old Gustavo just isn’t willing to take that next step.”

“We don’t have enough on him. Pure and simple. But we also haven’t seen good ol’ Cash doing much in the way of laundering money for anyone, let alone the Mendozas.” He waved his hand toward a file on his desk. “And Financial Crimes doesn’t have squat on them. The distribution business looks clean, and they don’t have any of those suspicious shell companies or offshore accounts.”

“There’s gotta be something, Rico. I don’t get it. They have to be moving weight. Serious weight. Didn’t Castillo say that punk Bolivian was in town a few weeks back? Santos? Now he might have been mixing with those business types who were funding Maynard’s Central American party, but he also had dinner with one Miguel Mendoza. At least that’s what the head waiter at Santos’s hotel said.”

Rico nodded, trying to slow his partner down. “But we don’t know what they were doing, Sonny. According to his file, Santos just bought shares in some distillery down that way. Maybe Mendoza wants to expand into Bolivian booze. All I’m saying is we gotta be sure before we go charging off.”

“You mean before I pull another Guzman.”

Rico paused for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Something like that. The Mendozas are careful. You said that yourself. We gotta be sure we got the goods before we make a move on ‘em.” He wasn’t sure how hard he wanted to push, but he knew Sonny was on thin ice with Stan, and even Trudy had concerns. Gina might be firmly in his corner, but Rico knew that wasn’t enough.

“So what’s your big plan?” Sonny grinned. “You got that ‘I got a plan’ look in your eyes.”

“We need to dangle some cash in front of the chump. But I can’t, ‘cause Rico Cooper is always flush. So we send in Sonny Burnett with a briefcase of money he got for moving more product than normal. It don’t have to be much…just enough to get ol’ Mr. Cash interested. And from what that file says it don’t take much to get him interested.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna put Burnett on to him? Come on, Rico, we know the guy’s careful. I don’t think he takes on clients without an introduction.” He tapped a cigarette out of the pack of Lucky Strikes and fired it up. “And I’m not going in there with Noogie, so don’t even try.”

“Not a chance. Look, I got a cat I use now and then when I want to get a feel for how the money’s moving. He might know Cash, and if he does he’ll set it up.” He paused. “We could try your pal Otis Forsythe, too. Moving money is his thing.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to burn Otis. And if we take down Cash whoever set it up might get crispy. Especially if he’s working for the Mendozas. Those brothers don’t seem to like loose ends.”

Rico nodded. “Yeah. My CI’s not very high up on the food chain. Strictly a middleman. No way he gets burned if anything happens with Cash.”

Sonny sent a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. “Ok, let’s do it. I’ll go talk deal money with the lieutenant if you want to set a meet up with your guy.”

“Solid. We’ll go for the Overton. He digs the dresses the waitresses wear.”

 

They were sitting at the long bar of the Overton when Sonny Crockett got his first look at Rico’s contact. His jaw dropped, accented by the alternating pink and blue neon above the bar. “What the hell…”

“That, my friend, is Paulie Two-Tone.” Rico grinned. “He’s…unique.”

Paulie’s hair might have been brown once. It was hard to tell when one side was dyed bright red and the other a deep blue. His suit was immaculate, a conservative brown, but his shoes matched his hair…one red and one blue. But the right side of his head was red, and he wore the blue shoe on his right foot. His eyes were hidden by massive sunglasses, and Rico wondered if he’d finally gotten around to getting tinted contacts to match his hair and shoes. “Paulie! How’s it been?”

Paulie had a deep voice, not what most people expected from his thin fame and exotic appearance. “Mr. Cooper! Long time no see, my friend. Been busy, and I expect you’ve been the same.” He paused and looked Sonny up and down, his head moving slowly. “Who’s the paleface?”

“Sonny Burnett. He deals with quite a bit of my transportation.”

Paulie nodded. “Yeah. I heard of you, Burnett. Fast boat. Fast gun. Neither are my thing, but I can appreciate skill. Thing is, I don’t need anything moved.”

Sonny nodded, and Rico could sense his annoyance just underneath the Burnett smile. Stay cool, partner. “Yeah, but I ain’t here in that capacity. Cooper here tells me you’re something of a wizard with money. Or know people who are.”

Paulie grinned and plopped down on a bar stool. “That’s what they say, Burnett.” He turned to the bartender. “My usual.” Then he turned back to Sonny. “Look, I don’t know you. But I know Cooper, so I’m willing to make an exception to my rules.”

“Yeah, well so am I. I’ve got some cash that could use a good cleaning, and I’ve heard through the grapevine that a guy who calls himself Cash is the one I need to see. Thing is, he won’t deal without an introduction.”

“Cash is a might particular about who he deals with.” Paulie snorted. “I got no idea why. He’s mostly small time. But since you do transport, I bet you’re not looking to move Calderone money. That leaves out the big players. It’s not worth their time.”

Rico relaxed on his stool, watching the two men dance around each other. He had to hide a grin when Paulie’s drink arrived…a layered blue and red mess of alcohol and food coloring. Someone had fed quarters into the juke box filling in for the DJ until the evening crowd came in, and the pulsing beat of the Eurythmics filled his ears. All he could do was hope Sonny didn’t push Paulie too hard. For all his multi-colored looks, Paulie had serious backbone.

“Look…I can’t go to Cooper here. His ties are all up north, and I need a quick return on this money. Got some mechanic’s bills to pay. And before you ask, the guy is particular about his payment. So I gotta wash the money.”

“Quick service isn’t cheap, my friend.” Paulie sipped his drink and regarded Sonny from behind his sunglasses.

“Look Paulie. I’d take it as a favor.”

“How much are we talking?”

Rico shrugged when Sonny shot a look in his direction. “Don’t look at me, Burnett. I don’t balance your checkbook.”

“Ten grand. I know it ain’t much, but..”

“It’s right in Cash’s sweet spot.” Paulie ran his hand through his multi-colored hair and chuckled. “I think next week I’ll try yellow and blue. Gettin’ kind of tired of red. But look, for five hundred I’ll put you in touch with the man. He usually takes about ten percent, but he can turn in two days…sometimes less. Or so I’m told.”

“Done.”

Rico watched as Sonny pulled out a wad of bills and extracted five hundreds. But his eyes didn’t stay fixed on the bar. You could never tell who was watching in a place like The Overton, and it paid to be careful. It helped knowing Paulie worked alone. Anyone moving close was hostile and not security.

“Hey Cooper. I’ll page you once I got a time and place for your pal here.” Paulie inclined his head in Sonny’s direction. “That way our numbers ain’t crossing paths.”

“Fine with me.” Sonny’s voice was tight, and Rico knew he was at the end of his limited patience. “Come on, Cooper. Let’s blow this pop stand.”

They were halfway to Sonny’s new Ferrari when he finally lost it. “Who is that psycho? And what the hell is up with his hair?”

“Chill out, Crockett. Paulie’s a good source. He’s got a finger in most of the mid-level money laundering going on in Miami. Sort of a downmarket version of Otis.” Rico chuckled. “And if you think he looks freaky, I gotta get you up north to Times Square.”

“I’ll pass. But old ‘two-tone’ better come through with Cash, or I’ll be looking him up again.”

Rico nodded, settling into the passenger seat of the Testerossa. He wasn’t sure what he thought of Sonny’s new ride, but at least his partner’s mood was better since he’d gotten rid of the truck. They were pulling into traffic when Sonny spoke again. “So how did you meet that freak show? And don’t tell me it was a blind date.”

Rico laughed. “Naw. Nothing like that. I was workin’ a case while you were sidelined with the grand jury a few months back…”

 

Sonny Crockett guided the Testerossa through traffic, nodding from time to time to keep Rico thinking he was listening. Getting his partner talking about his CI was the best way he knew to keep Rico from asking other questions: questions he didn’t want to answer.

He still found himself occasionally starting to ask Larry Zito a question before his brain reminded him Zito was gone. They’d taken Guzman down, which was what he wanted in the end. But was it worth it? Before he would have said yes, but now there was a little corner of his mind that said no. It was just a little whisper, coming out late at night when he was sitting on the deck of the St. Vitus’ Dance with Elvis and a beer or some Black Jack. And if he was honest with himself, the whisper had started soon after Moon was killed.

Maybe he’d pushed so hard to make up for Frank Hackman pulling the wool over his eyes. How could I have been so stupid? First he cons me, then I send Moon and Zito into a buzzsaw. The thought stung, and he pushed it to the back of his mind. Hackman fooled lots of people. Not just me.

This is what we do. The words haunted him, even though he’d used them to justify Moon’s death to Zito…and to himself. That and the lie. We’ll do it another way. Sonny knew he wouldn’t have done it another way. He would have kept pushing Larry, just like he had, and the result would have been the same.

He’d made his excuses to Castillo, but from the look in the lieutenant’s eyes he knew the words weren’t believed. He also knew he was still in the field because they were short a detective and there was no way to replace him. Still, they’d taken down Oswaldo Guzman and gotten some good ink for the department and an ‘attaboy’ from at least one Federal agency. He was proud of the outcome, except for that little voice.

“Earth to Sonny.”

“What? Oh, sorry Rico. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna burn Paulie. If we can get this Cash to even touch the money we’ll scoop him up and lean on him. Hard. He doesn’t look like the type who’d do well in prison.”

“And you really think he’ll give us the Mendozas?”

“Hell, he’s got to. It’s his only ticket out of the joint.”

“He’s been at it for a long time, Sonny. He’s got other clients he can give up.”

“Yeah, I thought about that.” Downshifting, Sonny changed lanes to cut around a Metro bus. “And there’s always the chance the brass will settle for a few of them. But if we get to him first, we might be able to sweat the Mendozas out of him.”

“You really think they’re that big?”

“They gotta be. Why else would they be meeting with some Bolivian player like Santos? And there’s the bodies that keep turning up around them. Jaime. Chuckie Stokes. And an assortment of Haitians and other clowns who tried to mess with their business.” Sonny drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “No, there’s something going on there, Rico. We just gotta find a way in. Or find a way to lean on that cousin. Gustavo. Maybe Switek and…I mean Switek can put some more pressure on him. So far he hasn’t given us squat.”

“I think Gustavo tells us just enough to keep himself out of jail. But he’s gotta be moving up. Like that twenty kilo deal? Change a few words. He was there instead of just hearing about it. And I keep hearing talk of him making some moves in South Beach. Maybe Stan can pull something out of him about that.”

Sonny nodded. “Why don’t you ask him when we get back to OCB? I’m gonna check with the lieutenant and make sure we have the bait money for our buddy Cash.” The excuse sounded thin even to him, but he also knew he didn’t want to talk to Switek. Not yet…

He was about to make the turn into the OCB lot when the car’s phone buzzed. Rico answered, then turned to him. “Skip the check-in. We just got a call about bodies over near Brickell. Patrol thinks there might be a narcotics connection. Castillo wants us to head over.”

 

Esteban Morales took another sip of rum as he looked out his apartment window at the last red remains of the sun. It had been a long day, filled with checking on his men at various boat houses and stash locations and ended with a long drive to the swamp to see the latest products of the camps run by the old men. He figured he’d earned his drink, especially since Miguel Mendoza had been pleased with his update. With Cristobal Santos back in Bolivia where he belonged things were settling down again.

Still, there were changes in the wind. Miguel asked him to bring more men on board, which only happened when the operation was about to expand. But nothing was said about how or where they were expanding. Esteban took another drink, feeling the rum warm his throat. What worried him wasn’t a lack of men. It was a lack of men who could lead other men.

Lupe was the one exception, but his intelligence skills were too valuable to waste leading a single crew. Carlos was developing into a dependable, if limited, leader…good providing security for buys and guarding stash houses but not likely to think on his own. Esteban went down the list in his head, knowing most of his crew leaders were more like Carlos than Lupe. And then there was Victor…

Victor was a capable leader, but he always went for the violent solution to any problem. And the more violent the better. So far Esteban had been able to keep him under control, but as their holdings expanded so did the need to let him out of his sight. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling.

He was pouring his second drink when the phone rang. Picking up the cordless headset, he hit the button. “Yes?”

“Jefe.” Lupe’s even voice echoed out of the receiver. “We have a problem. There’s been a shooting in Brickell. Outside Kilowatt.”

Esteban nodded. It was one of the clubs they’d been moving product in for months now. “What happened?”

“I’m hearing it on the police scanner, so I don’t know much. But I do know Victor was running security down there this week. And that we’d been getting word that some Dominicans might be trying to cut in on our territory.”

“Shit.” The warm feeling from the rum left his stomach. “Has Victor called in?”

“No. I was hoping he’d contacted you.”

“He won’t. Not if he did what I think he did. I’ll let the boss know. See if you can find him, Lupe. But don’t take any action.” Esteban ended the call and punched in Miguel’s private number from memory.

“Yes?”

“Boss, we might have had a problem at Kilowatt. I just heard about it, but it’s possible Victor’s crew might have gotten into a gunfight with some Dominicans.”

There was silence for a handful of heartbeats. “They were trying to move in on that club?”

“So it’s been said. But we never had enough to act on. I know you don’t like action until we have a sure target.”

“Just so. But if they were trying to move in, this might work in our favor. A sort of preemptive message.” There was another pause. “Look, I know you think Victor is reckless. And I agree. But sometimes a little recklessness isn’t a bad thing. Look into it and let me know.”

“Of course, Jefe.” Esteban ended the call and threw the handset across the room. “Shit!” The single word was as much of a display as he’d allow himself, knowing he had to stay in control for when he met Victory. Still, before shooting the Haitian, Miguel would have been preaching caution and restraint, even if it cost them a marginal bit of territory. Something’s changed in him. I need to remember that and adjust my methods. There was a side table by the chair, and he reached into a drawer and pulled out his custom .45. He needed more information, and there was only one way to get it.

 

Sonny guided the Testarosa into an open spot about fifty feet from the first line of yellow crime scene tape. Forcing a grin on his face, he pulled out his gold shield and draped the chain around his neck. “Let’s go see what the fuss is about and get out of here before the TV crews show up.” He shot a glare and the six squad cars and their rotating lights. “Looks like they rolled half the damned force for this party.”

“Yeah. Ain’t too often the fat cats in Brickell get shot up.” Rico climbed out of the low-slung white car, his own badge on display. “And Kilowatt ain’t low end.”

“You been here before?”

Rico shot him a wicked grin. “A time or two. They got a damned good dance floor an’ a fine selection of pretty dance partners.”

Chuckling, Sonny headed for a knot of uniforms clustered near the main door. “What’s the score, gents?” he asked, making sure they saw his badge. “Detectives Crockett and Tubbs, OCB. Our lieutenant said we got the call.”

A senior patrolman appeared from the middle of the pack. “Guess so, detectives. I hear Homicide’s on their way, too. We got the dispatch call about twenty minutes ago. Shots fired. Jackson here was first on scene.”

Jackson was a skinny kid who looked like he’d rather be anyplace else. Bet he drops his badge tomorrow morning Sonny thought. “That’s right, detective. Me and my FTO got here first.” His head jerked toward the sheets. “They were just layin’ there…”

An older officer standing just behind Jackson took up the story. “I know two of ‘em. Local dealers. Mainly small time, but wanting to move up.” He snorted. “Same old story. The third’s new to me.”

“So we got three dead bodies. Anyone else hit? Suspects? Witnesses?”

“Most of the people in the club did a runner as soon as the shots were fired. That includes whoever was supposed to be on the door.”

“I know this cat.” Rico had walked over and lifted the corner of each sheet. Checking faces. “He’s a corner boss for one of the Dominican gangs. The Double Treys.”

Sonny looked over. “Well I’ll be damned. Someone finally caught up with old Zorro.”

“Zorro?”

“Yeah, kid. That’s his street name. Always favored a knife over a gun, so the boys started calling him Zoro. I think he even got a ‘Z’ tattooed on his chest.” Sonny started to chuckle, then froze. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Yeah. Heavy caliber headshots on all of them.”

Sonny turned back to Jackson. “I need to you remember. Did any of the witnesses say anything about how many shots were fired?”

“Maybe six shots.” He closed his eyes and started working his fingers. “Yeah. Six. The bartender in there claimed to have been in the Army, and he said it sounded like three 9mms and three .45s.”

“We found three 9mm casings over by the two guys we recognized. They both had Berettas, and the crime lab will check to see if they were fired.” The older FTO shrugged. “But no .45 casings.”

“And you won’t find any.” Sonny turned to Rico and shook his head. “It’s gotta be the Mendozas again. No one else does that kind of shooting.”

“The lieutenant’s gonna want more than your gut talking, Sonny.”

“Yeah, I know. And he’ll want it to go to Homicide first.” Sonny looked out toward the street and shook his head. “And it looks like their green Ford just pulled up.” He turned back to Jackson. “Any of those guys have drugs on ‘em?”

“No. Seemed funny to me, but they didn’t have any.”

“Come on, Rico. Let’s hand this mess off and get back to the barn. I want to see what we’ve got on old Zorro and his possible playmates.”

 

Almost a block away, Esteban could see the red and blue from rotating police lights. He pulled over, shooting a glare at Lupe. “And they’re already here.”

“The call was quick. Gunshots in Brickell aren’t the same as gunshots in Overtown.”

“I know. Did you locate Victor?”

“He’s waiting for us in The Lame Bull.”

“Good.” Starting the car, Esteban turned down a side street that would take him to Flagler. “Be ready. Miguel seems ok with what happened, at least for now. But Victor doesn’t need to know that. He got lucky this time.”

The Lame Bull was dim and thick with cigar smoke when Esteban and Lupe walked in. The old men were sitting at tables toward the back as usual, lost in their rum and old dreams. He spotted Victor at the bar, talking with his hands and in the middle of some grand exaggeration. The hands stopped moving when Esteban started a slow, steady clap. “Bravo, Victor.”

“Boss. I…”

“You didn’t expect to see me. That much is obvious. Why you wouldn’t expect to see me isn’t.” He nodded toward a table to the side of the door. “Sit. We need to talk.” He didn’t see any of Victor’s crew in the place, which made him wonder what was going on. Had they disagreed with the order? Or were they off whoring somewhere?

“I can explain.”

“So start with why you carried this out on your own authority.” Esteban sat with his back to the wall, leaving the exposed chair for Victor. Lupe remained standing, his back to the wall and positioned so he could watch the door.

“Me and my crew were keeping an eye on a deal going down in Kilowatt. Six ounces. Those bastards from the Double Treys came busting in like they owned the place. Demanded their cut of the deal. Their cut! So we defended our spot.”

“That makes for a good story. Except the men were all killed outside the club. We saw the bodies, Victor.” Esteban thought of the Colt tucked in his waistband. It would be so simple… “It’s not wise to lie to me.”

“Ok…they didn’t make it inside. I had one of the boys outside watching the door. The guy Kilowatt uses likes his blow too much. He’s usually fried by nine. My guy tipped us that a car had just dropped off three Dominicans, and that they were packing heat. I left one guy inside to watch the deal and took my other man outside to have a look-see. They were starting to shake down the doorman when we let them have it. They got off a couple of shots, but didn’t hit a damned thing.” He smiled for the first time. “But me and my crew took care of business.”

Esteban felt his eyes go cold. He leaned forward, whispering so Victor had to lean in, too. “Yes. In public. With no blessing. And with witnesses. It was sloppy, Victor. And sloppy in a place where that kind of thing is noticed and investigated. We will have to stop operating in Kilowatt for a time. Because of you.”

“I didn’t…”

“No. You didn’t. You didn’t think. You didn’t plan. And you didn’t consider what comes after the shooting stops.” He nodded toward the back of the room. “Those old bastards have a lot of foolish ideas. But their training is outstanding. What you did tonight wouldn’t draw a second look in Overtown. Or Liberty City. Or Little Haiti. But in Brickell? It draws cops like flies to shit. And they stick around.” He paused. “I’m moving you and your crew to the third boathouse until further notice.”

“That’s almost in the swamps!”

“Be glad you’re not ending up IN the swamps, Victor. It puts your crew out of the way in case someone comes forward who saw your faces. They do that in Brickell.” He looked down at the table. “You’ll start your new duty tomorrow. I’ll let the crew who’s there know to expect you.”

Lupe waited for Victor to slink away before sliding into a chair with a grin. “Idiot doesn’t know how lucky he is.”

“I think he does at some level.” Esteban nodded toward the bar. “He knows what he would have done to someone who broke procedure like he did. But he might mistake it for weakness. We need to watch that one closely.”

“And the jefe likes him?”

“He doesn’t even know Victor. What he sees is a useful tool in a box full of tools. The trick is using that tool in the right time and place. It’s possible Victor had no choice but to do what he did tonight. How he did it is the problem.” He leaned forward again. “Look into it for me. See what you can learn.”

Back in his apartment, Esteban called Miguel after letting the crew at the third boathouse know they should change places with Victor’s people tomorrow. “…and I sent him to the third boathouse. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, so there’s little chance he’ll be spotted and recognized.”

“You think he made a mistake.”

“I don’t know yet. What I know is he cost you money. We will need to stop moving product in Kilowatt until the police stop sniffing around. Brickell isn’t Overtown.”

Miguel sighed. “No, it isn’t. It’s wise to get him out of sight for a bit, Esteban. And if he overreacted, I want to know.”

“I’m sure the Double Treys were trying to make a move there. They’ve been making moves on the edges of Brickell for a couple of months now. But never anything that aggressive. Usually it’s gram sales to the stockbrokers and business types. This must have been their big move.”

“Stay on it. And Esteban…we need to meet soon. There’s a big project coming up, and I’ll need your advice.”

Sitting in silence, Esteban poured himself another drink and looked out the window. The splash of neon from the club across from his building played over the windows, and for a moment it tempted him. But only for a moment. The tone in Miguel’s voice when he mentioned a new project had Esteban intrigued. What did the boss have in mind this time? He wondered if it had any connection to the recent visit by Cristobal Santos. Or maybe Jesus Estevez. The old man had backed off his cocaine dreams, at least for now.

Shaking his head, Esteban drained his glass and reached for the bottle. It was all a problem for tomorrow in any case. And he’d survived in this life by focusing on today and what he needed to do to get to tomorrow.