Genesis, Part XXXIV

[Robbie C.]

November 1989-January 1990

 

“Tell me we got something.” Trudy Joplin looked around the table, her eyes bright. “It’s been over a month. There’s gotta be something.”

Stan Switek shook his head. “They’re careful on the phones. Almost like they know we’re listening. From what I can put together from the tapes, they like to hold face-to-face stuff. Pelican’s Nest is the choice when it’s Miguel and Ricky getting together, but Miguel likes to meet Esteban either there or at a bar in Little Havana called The Lame Bull.” He chuckled. “I thought about sending Izzy in there with his shoes to talk Hemingway, but I figured it would just get the little twerp killed.”

“What about Ricky and Morales?”

“Now that’s where it gets funny. As far as I can tell, those two have never met. At least not for business. It’s always Miguel setting up stuff with Esteban.” Stan pulled out a sheet of graph paper. “I charted the meetings for the last month here. There’s never any overlap between Ricky and the Cuban Ghost.”

Gina tapped her pencil on the table. “The Cuban Ghost? Really, Stan?”

“Hell, yes. The guy is a ghost. He almost never uses any phone we have a tap on, and we haven’t been able to keep a surveillance box on him for more than a block or two.” He shook his head. “Of course we don’t have the people to do it right, and Dibble and Gorman might as well take out ads when they’re tailing someone.”

Trudy sighed. Lieutenant Castillo had given her lead detetive status on the Mendozas, and so far they were coming up empty. Or maybe not empty, but not full enough. “What about their ladies?”

Gina flipped through her notebook. “They’re both clean, at least as far as moving coke goes. But they toss a lot of money around. And I mean a lot. Miller hosted a fundraiser for some South Beach city council candidate last week. Two thousand dollars a head, and it was filled to capacity. Oh, and that candidate won. The Franklin girl’s not as obvious, but she’s been working some angles, too. She started promoting a club over in Cocoanut Grove called Popper, and within about a week they announced they were expanding and adding a new sound system. That kind of stuff doesn’t just fall out of the sky.”

Stan flipped back through his notes. “It looks like the guy behind the club, Tommy Innaz, paid a visit to Shock not long before good ol’ Tiffy came on the scene. Dibble was actually awake for a change and he recognized the guy from when he was loaned out to John Vallencio’s Narcotics guys. He’s a mid-level player at best.”

Trudy nodded. “Did they request anything from Records?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t.” She leaned forward, feeling her dress stretch tight across her breasts. I gotta stop wearing the decoy clothes to work when I’m not on the street. “The Mendozas always seem to be a step or two ahead of us, and I want to limit any exposure of our information.”

Gina nodded. “You think they bought someone.”

“Yes. Probably more than one. I mean, think about it. They’re holding fundraisers for city council candidates in a club they control but don’t deal in. These guys are smart. And careful.”

“I was kinda thinking the same thing.” Stan ran thick fingers through his trimmed beard. “For the first day or so after we got the warrants they used the phones quite a bit. Then they went all radio silence. They were careful about what they said before, but now it’s just a couple of words and then nothing.”

Gina shook her head. “So what do we do?”

“What we always do, girlfriend. Get the job done.” She looked at her two teammates. “It’s gonna be us and the lieutenant on this. Why don’t you two go check out Shock tonight? Go in and give the place a good look-see. Go as a couple. We always assumed the place was another trophy for a would-be Scarface, but I’m thinking Sonny was right. It’s something different. I want to know what.”

Castillo sat at his desk, his eyes closed, until Trudy finished her report. “And you’re sure about a leak?”

“As sure as I can be based on what we’re seeing, lieutenant.” Trudy shifted a bit in her chair. It was always unnerving when Castillo listed to your report without looking at you. But she was sure he could see through his eyelids. “Too many coincidences. Plus it really fits the way these two work.”

“I agree. Are you sending Calabrese and Switek in without backup?”

“Just me. They can’t go in armed, and wires are out for now. From what we’ve seen from the outside, Shock has good security. I didn’t want to risk showing our hand this soon.”

“It’s the right call.” He leaned forward in the chair and opened his eyes. “We can’t tip our hand. Especially if they’re getting into politics.” He paused for a moment, making her think he might have changed his mind. “Do it. Just be close by in case they need help. I’ll stay close by the radio.”

 

Stan Switek shifted from one foot to the other as they waited in the line outside the club’s main doors. I feel like a damned kid going to his first prom. Gina looks gorgeous in that dress, and I had to stuff myself in some suit from the property room. I bet she really misses Sonny right about now.

“You look wonderful, Stan.”

“You’re just saying that.” He smiled to cover the nerves. “You look great in that dress. White is really your color.”

She punched him lightly on the arm. “No, I mean it. You look really good. It’s the pinstripes. They make you look like one of those Mafia guys who used to hover around Lombard.”

“I guess that’s something. Gotta go with what I can, you know.”

This time she just touched his arm. “Let’s have fun with this, ok? Like we did with drinks the other night. I’ve been meaning to tell you how much I enjoyed that.”

“So…so did I. And yeah, let’s live it up a bit.” He winked as they moved two bodies closer to the door. “At least it doesn’t smell as bad as the Bug Van out here.” He’d learned early on to cover embarrassment with humor, and sometimes it extended to other emotions as well. He hadn’t expected Gina to accept his invitation, let alone consider it a date and enjoy it. Maybe his luck was finally starting to turn…

The doorman didn’t give them a second look, and once they were inside the raw sound and light of Shock hit Stan like a physical thing. Strobes and neon fought to highlight the long bar, and the sound system boomed out a pulse all its own. The dance floor was packed, and he guided Gina to an open spot along the bar where they could see the floor, the main doors, and the roped-off staircase leading up to what a neon scroll proclaimed the VIP rooms.

“Whiskey for me and whatever the lady wants!” he shouted over the music at the bartender when the guy finally appeared. While Gina ordered, he turned and started scanning for security, his eyes jumping from one part of the room to the next basing his search off the two sharp-dressed sides of beef at the main doors. He figured they might not look the same, but they’d probably dress the same. It made it easier for them to track each other in the alternating gloom and brilliance of Shock’s main floor.

“How much security?”

He turned back to collect his drink, tossing a fifty on the bar like it was pocket lint. “Lemme know when that’s done, chief, an’ I’ll match it with another.” He took a sip and winced. “And the next one better be top shelf an’ not that well crap.” He noticed Gina’s smile, but kept his face blank. “Aside from the two at the door and the one at the rope? I see maybe four more. Look for the dark suits with white carnations. Kinda cheesy if you ask me, but it makes it easy for them to see each other.”

“I just saw one of them toss a guy out.” Gina sipped her drink, using the glass and paper umbrella to hide her lips. “I recognized the creep. Low-level dealer who likes working clubs. Looks  like they weren’t kidding when they said no one deals in here.”

“It’s a tight operation. I bet those guys have radios, too. The Secret Service kind with the earpiece and microphone up your sleeve.” He took another sip of the low-end whiskey. “Means we might be able to pick it up if we hit the right frequency.”

“And the lady of the house just arrived.” Gina jerked her head toward the door.

Stan raised his eyebrows. Holly Miller knew how to accent her looks, from the clip in her thick brown hair to the tight red dress and hooker heels. She turned heads from the moment she walked in until she headed upstairs to the VIP rooms. I’d love to get a wire in one of those. That and the club rooms at Pelican’s Nest. But there’s no way we’d get a warrant.

“You can roll that tongue of yours back in your mouth, Stanley.”

He raised his hands. “Hey! No such thing! I’ve got the prettiest girl in the place on my arm tonight.” He paused, realizing what he’d just said. “Sorry…I didn’t mean…”

“It’s ok, Stan. I happen to think I’m here with the greatest guy in the place.” Her cheeks turned a light red and she took another drink. “Did you see anyone go upstairs before she did?”

“No. Which means she’s meeting someone who’s already up there or showing up early for something. Or maybe the actual office is up there. The blueprints the city had on file weren’t real clear about that, and there’s been some work done since according to the permits.” He rattled on a bit more, but he couldn’t forget what she’d said. Maybe there’s a chance. God, it would be nice if there was a chance.

They spent about an hour at the bar, broken up by a few minutes of awkward dancing. At least Stan felt awkward…like one of those dancing bears who always showed up in the cartoons he’d watched as a kid. Gina had moves like flowing moonlight, or at least what he imagined moonlight would look like if it could dance. Still, he’d kept one eye on the stairs to the VIP rooms. But nothing happened.

“We came up empty, lieutenant. Holly Miller was there, all right. But she stayed upstairs the entire time we were there. A couple of couples went up and came back down, but I don’t think any of them met with her.” Stan shrugged. “The office has gotta be up there. If I had to guess based on the only approved plans we’ve got, I’d say it’s that room in the back.”

“How did they remodel without approved plans?”

“Cash on the barrelhead. Ol’ Miguel probably paid some contractor in fresh fifties and the guy only pulled the permits he had to have. Electrical. Maybe plumbing. Basic stuff that could hide anything.”

“Keep on it. We need a way in.”

Stan shook his head. “I don’t know if there is one, lieutenant. Not like we usually do, I mean. We just may have to keep circling and hope they make a mistake.” He hated how hollow his own words sounded. These bastards just don’t make mistakes.

 

“I hate deals like this.”

Pasqual Benitez chuckled as he looked over at Rafe manning the radar. “Come on, mano. It ain’t that bad. At least it’s not one of them damned fishing boats.” He cut the throttles on the new boat a touch more, feeling her settle deeper into the water as the speed bled off. “How close are we?”

“Another two minutes tops at this speed. I got the fishing boat on the scope now.” Rafe chuckled. “At least this dude uses guys who know what water is. Some of the guys The Bat sends…”

“Yeah.” Pasqual could feel the Cuban behind him in the open cabin of the go-fast. Like most of them, he never said much but seemed to see everything. But this was big enough load he was going to try for two kilos. Maybe three or four if things worked out. It was easier now that Enrique let him run his own routes. Still, it was chump change compared to what the brothers were raking in. He’d seen the numbers with his own eyes, heard them talking about it in that damned club they had. And they thought a boat could buy him off. It was an insult compared to what he figured he deserved.

The first time he’d made some nice extra money, cut down and parceled out to small-time dealers in Overtown and Little Haiti. And in the year since then he’d done the same thing every couple of months. Padding his own accounts and watching demand for his second-string product grow over time. But to step up his game he’d have to let Rafe distract the ape with the Mini-14.

Looking over again, he saw the other man wink. It’s a go. Good. I figured he’d go for it. I know he needs the cash, and he’s still got a grudge against Ricky for something or another. They’d worked it out over drinks at The Overton earlier in the week. Rafe would do his bit for a third of what Pasqual got for the drugs. He thinks it’s half, but since I control that end he’s not gonna be any wiser. Kinda like I was before my eyes got opened.

“I got their lights.” He cut the power even more, blinking his own navigation lights to let the fishing boat know he saw them. There was an answering blink and then the big cabin cruiser’s lights went dark. “It’s on.” He turned to the Cuban. “You’d better get in position in case they get ideas.”

“Columbians.” The Cuban snorted deep in his throat and moved to the bow of the boat, his stainless steel Mini-14 cradled in his big arms.

“Yeah, but they’re on time and they don’t look out of place if the Coast Guard wanders by.” He turned. “Keep an eye on that scope, brother. We don’t want any surprises.” Reaching down, he felt for the gym bag full of cash. He was also very aware of the weight of the .45 tucked into the back of his jeans.

They were close enough for him to make out details on the cabin cruiser’s deck, even though the only light was from the stars dancing overhead. He was ready when a man emerged from the side of the stepped cabin. “Rafe, get the line, ok? Don’t want risk drifting out there.” He felt the boat rise and fall. “Got some swells going on.”

“You bring the cash?” The voice from the other boat was thin and tight with nerves.

Great! Last thing I need’s a jumped-up Columbian with an UZI. “Yeah. You got the goods?”

“Si. Come on over and we check both.”

He nodded to the Cuban. “You got it, but don’t forget my guy here can blow the balls off a fly at a hundred yards with that rifle of his.”

“I don’t forget. And you don’t forget my pal has a shotgun.”

“So we know where we fuckin’ stand. Let’s get this done.” He nodded to Rafe to take the wheel as he grabbed the bag and made the jump to the bigger boat.

The Columbian was rail-thin and had narrow, mean eyes in a face pockmarked by a bad case of childhood acne. Or maybe smallpox. Pasqual didn’t care. What he cared about was the olive green duffle bag by the man’s feet.

They went through the ritual of examining bundles of cash and random testing from the plastic-wrapped kilos, and soon enough Pasqual was jumping back to his boat. With a quick turn of the rope he cast off from the other ship and nodded at Rafe. “Take us about a quarter of a mile away from them. I’ll get the cargo stored.”

The Cuban’s voice rasped from the bow. “How did it go?”

“Good. No problems. They deal more professionally than they look.”

“Hey! Can you come over here and watch the radar? We had a faint contact to the north, and in this damned dark I need to focus on piloting.”

The Cuban shot a look at Pasqual. “Go ahead. I can store the stuff. Better we don’t run into some damned cruise ship or a Coast Guard cutter.” He hefted the bag. “This won’t take long, and then I’ll take the wheel.”

He made a show of turning on the cabin lights and opening the main compartment, but the moment the Cuban’s head turned to the radar screen he pressed down and opened a smaller compartment he’d had put in after Ricky’s guy was done with the boat. Two kilos slid in without a sound, and then he closed it before loading the main compartment with the rest of the buy still in the duffle bag. Moments later he eased back into the pilot’s seat and opened the throttles, sending the boat speeding back toward Miami. The hard part was done. The guys at the boat house would just take the bag and unload it, most of it going straight to other buyers while a small part would head to one of the Mendoza stash houses. No one counted the kilos, least of all on a run Pasqual made.

 

“You need help with the Mendoza case, Castillo.”

Martin Castillo looked at the deputy chief and shook his head, glad they hadn’t sent Carstairs. “No. We don’t. My people have it in hand. The Mendozas are careful, so it’s going to take time.”

“The mayor thinks you need help. So he called the chief. Then the chief called me. Look, I know your people do good work. But these guys…”

“Are connected.” Castillo looked down at his own notes. “Do you want to know how much they donated to the mayor’s re-election campaign last year? Or the campaign before that? Or at least one city council election involving South Beach?”

“You’re saying there’s a leak.”

“I’m saying we have to be careful. We’ll only get one shot at Miguel Mendoza. If we miss, he’ll be untouchable. But with a big, detailed case his political allies will go to ground and leave him exposed.”

“Sounds like you might need some bigger help, then. Federal help.”

“You mean DEA?”

“Not exactly. It seems the FBI’s taken an interest in the Mendozas. Don’t know why, but they keep calling about it. The chief thinks it’s an excellent opportunity for a partnership.”

“Of course.” He knew there was no point in fighting it. The fact the chief had been mentioned indicated it was a done deal. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. “My unit’s undermanned. We don’t have time to hold the hands of the FBI.”

“Make time. There are eyes on this one, Martin. People want to see it end successfully. And after that incident with Crockett and Tubbs, something like this would go far to getting you back in the chief’s good graces.”

“I see. I want it on the record that OCB did not request this and that it was forced on us.”

“Do you have to be such an ass, Martin?”

Castillo smiled for the first time since he’d walked into the office. “Yes.” Then he turned and headed back out. He’d done what he could…now he just had to brief the team.

Trudy Joplin came out of her chair. “What do you mean the FBI?”

Castillo paused for a moment. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Trudy this angry. “Direct orders. We have no choice.”

“You know they’ll screw this case up, lieutenant. Park all their damned tan Fords in front of the Pelican’s Nest like they did last time they got involved.”

“That was a different case.”

“But the same bunch of idiots.” She sat back down, her eyes still hot.

“We have no choice,” he said, repeating the words. “Understand this…we will bring down the Mendozas. With or without the FBI.”

“So why…”

“They don’t trust us.” He looked at each member of the team. “And I can’t really blame them. Costa Morada was a disaster from their perspective. And we were in the middle of it. Crockett and Tubbs are gone, but they still need someone to blame.”

Gina shook her head. “It’s not right. And the FBI? They can’t find their own backsides with both hands. At least DEA knows what cocaine looks like.”

Castillo let them bitch for a few more moments. “We need to get to work. This gets us nowhere.” He looked around the table. “I want file summaries ready to turn over to them by this time tomorrow. They’re only getting summaries, not the original case files. No matter how much they complain. We might have to work with them, but we don’t have to give them everything we have.”

“When are J. Edgar’s avengers supposed to arrive?”

“The day after tomorrow.” Castillo looked down at his hands. “A Special Agent Faust. There may be one or two others, but I’m told Faust is our main point of contact with the Bureau.”

 

He’d hoped the FBI might break with tradition and send someone from their Miami office who was at least competent. But they hadn’t. Martin Castillo looked across the table at a smug bastard with a crew cut and badly cut gray suit that must have from from the Sears’ clearance rack. The man had been droning on for close to five minutes without saying anything. He decided they must screen for the ability at Quantico and reject anyone who couldn’t do it. “The way I see it, we send one of your dollies in there all fancied up and see if we can draw this Enrique out.”

“Enrique Mendoza has a woman he’s devoted to. As far as we can tell he’s been faithful to her for years.”

Special Agent Archie Faust leered at Gina. “Well, just cut that top a bit lower and I bet he forgets all about her.” He shifted his gaze to Trudy and chuckled. “And if that don’t work, we can always go more exotic. Maybe that’s his thing.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Say what?”

“Don’t make a comment like that about any of my detectives again.” Castillo could feel the anger building in his gut, rolling up into his chest. And he didn’t try to stop it. Too much had happened in the last few months.

“Detectives? Hell, I thought they were your decoys. We ain’t got women like this in the Bureau, let me…”

Castillo was around the table in two heartbeats, his fingers finding Faust’s throat. “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

Faust gurgled, his eyes bugging out in his face. He tried to reach up, to grab Castillo’s hand.

The thud of Castillo’s fist slamming into Faust’s liver was almost a physical thing in the room. Once, then twice.“Nod if you understand.” The man’s head bobbed like the hula girl stuck on the Bug Van’s dashboard. He held on for a second longer, watching the man’s face start to change color, then released him with a sweep of his arm.

Faust hit the floor like a sack of flour, clutching at himself and gasping for breath. “I…”

“Consider yourself lucky.” His voice was almost a whisper. “And understand this: we didn’t ask for your help. We don’t need you here. And if you ever disrespect any of my people again you’ll be looking at medical retirement.”

Switek’s voice echoed from somewhere behind Castillo. “Man, I told him to be careful around that chair, lieutenant. It’s had a bad leg for what, six months now? Just can’t get Metro Dade to replace it.”

Gina nodded. “It’s a regular health hazard. Who knew FBI agents could be so clumsy?”

“Did…did you threaten a Federal agent?”

He leaned over so his lips were scant inches from Faust’s ear. “No. I made a promise. And I honor my promises. I don’t want to see you in this building again. Or anyone else from the FBI. We will handle this ourselves.”

Once Faust dragged himself out, Castillo spoke again. “If anything comes back from this, it’s my responsibility. I don’t want any of you…”

Trudy looked up, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare say that! That son of a bitch disrespected me and my partner. He deserved everything he got, and then some. But yeah, I saw him fall out of that defective chair and hurt himself on the table just like everyone else in this room did. The Feebs have had years to build something on the Mendozas. They don’t get to swoop in and take our case. And I don’t give a damn what the bosses said.”

“There might be repercussions.”

“I don’t give a shit!” Her voice was still hot. “We did the work on this one. Sonny and Rico did the work on this one. We close it out.”

Stan cleared his throat. “Look, they never question results, right? So if we break this one it’s all water under the bridge or whatever the hell it is they say.”

“Switek’s right.” Castillo reached up and straightened his thin black leather tie. “But we’ll need to work quickly.”

Gina nodded. “Why don’t we try digging something up on this Holly Miller? She’s close to Miguel, and a whole lot of their money moves through her club. She might be the weak link we need. Or at least a way in. Enrique’s woman, Tiffy, is more a club promoter than anything else. Ricky might care about her, but she’s not gonna have the access Holly does. According to Sonny’s notes he was sure they were both involved.”

“Focus on the women.” Castillo was watching Trudy from the corner of his eye. He’d never seen that kind of anger from her, but he understood it.

Less than ten minutes later his phone rang. “What’s this I hear about you assaulting a Federal agent?”

“He made derogatory comments about both of my female detectives. More than once. They’ll be speaking with their union rep later today about the entire incident.”

The deputy chief’s voice changed. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

“Yes. It’s my understanding Metro-Dade takes sexual harassment very seriously. Or has something changed?”

“Damn you, Castillo! The man’s…”

“An incompetent pig. If that’s the FBI’s idea of help, we’re better off without it.”

There was a long pause. “Look, I might have an idea. Let me reach out to someone with another agency. And you say they’re both talking to a union rep? You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.” They weren’t now, but he knew they would be as soon as he got off the phone and told Gina and Trudy about the call.

“Ok. Tell them they have my apologies on behalf of the department. This won’t happen again.”

“No. It won’t.” Castillo hung up without waiting for a reply. He waited a heartbeat, then dialed an extension. “Gina? My office, please. And bring Trudy with you. You’ll be wanting to call your union representative.”

 

“You’re sure of this?”

The man nodded, his head bobbling like it was going to break from his neck. “As sure as we can be, of course. Without running numbers.”

Enrique Mendoza looked up across the desk. “Run the damned numbers. I want to know if we’re really losing product, and if so where. You’re sure it’s not on the supply end?”

“We don’t think so. Otherwise it would be like before and each shipment from the same supplier would come up short. We might not have noticed if the stash house in the Groves hadn’t started counting kilos. They had a couple come in during the last six months that should have been twenty kilos but only had eighteen.” He paused. “And the load last month went straight from the boat to the stash house. Part of Miguel’s new stockpiling strategy. No one touched it once it got to the boat house.”

“Have the new kid…what’s his name? Xavier. Have him check it. He’s always got that calculator with him.” Sighing, he reached for the phone. “I need to let Miguel know.”