“That wasn’t good,” I said to Agent Ross, stating the obvious but trying to get some movement happening. He kept his hands to his face and did not seem to hear me. I let it go for another minute. Then my sat phone chimed; it was Linda, and it indicated a conference call. I had to take it.
“Hey,” I answered.
“James is on too,” she replied.
“Good,” I said. “We have work to do.”
* * *
Enrique and Noah were sitting in their Chevy Tahoe just down the road from the Air Charter Service parking lot when Noah’s phone chimed.
“Yo, Pablo,” he answered.
“Is that you on the road?”
“Yes.”
“Flash your lights,” Pablo said, which Enrique did. “Okay, we here, we coming up now. Make a U-turn and go into the lot and park near the car you want to repo. We coming in right behind you,” he said.
“Okay,” Noah said.
“Don’t do nothing. We take care of it. You owe us two Gs,” he said and clicked off. Enrique started the engine and made a U-turn. Both took some deep breaths. At the entrance to the parking lot, Enrique turned in slowly, went around the two lanes of cars, and parked in front of the Panamera. He stopped, put his car in Park, and cut the engine. They both got out of the car and closed the doors.
It did not take long.
“Hey,” they heard from the first lane. And just like before, the two large men came up to them, walking with purpose, no weapons pulled yet. “What the fuck are you doing back here? You want to get hurt or something?” the first man said. They formed up in a line facing Enrique and the Panamera.
“We need to pick up this vehicle,” Noah said as he came from the passenger side and moved next to Enrique. Both large men were shaking their heads in disbelief at the disobedience, or challenge, or whatever this was.
Just then, cars came barreling into the lot. One, then two, then three, then four. Two raced to where the confrontation was taking place; one stayed and blocked the entrance to the parking lot, and one went around behind. All four stopped sharply. Doors flew open; men exited. The four men in the first car were wearing FBI jackets, blue with big lettering. They moved in quickly and surrounded the Siroco men, but not too closely yet—they each held a baseball bat and were of similar size to the two Siroco men. Men from the second car exited, wearing green Sheriff’s Office jackets with big lettering. They took up a kind of backup position behind the first four—their hands were empty. The Siroco men were surrounded by eight men in close proximity. The car that had parked behind the first row disgorged its passengers, who were approaching from behind the Siroco men. Two men exited the car at the entrance blocking the lot. They had Sheriff’s Office jackets and flashlights. They took positions just at the entrance. No car attempted to enter the lot, and if any came, they would be turned away.
“Who the fuck are you?” one of the Siroco men said, showing no apparent fear, and, worse, lacking any understanding of the situation they were in.
Pablo said, “I am your worst nightmare. Get down on your knees, pendejo… or maybe you die tonight.” Pablo showed no fear. He wielded his bat like a baton.
The two Siroco men were surrounded, but they were feral creatures who dealt in raw emotions and brutality as a way of life. They were not trained in either strategy or tactics. They reacted to situations in a reptilian way rather than responded in well-thought-out patterns. And so it would be in this situation.
The Siroco man who had spoken started to reach for his gun. Big mistake. It was the trigger. Things happened in nanosecond time. Pablo led the pack. He brought his bat up with lightning speed—perhaps well practiced—and nailed the man who had spoken on his shoulder. Another bat landed on the man’s head, and others to his body. Same treatment to his partner who had tried unsuccessfully to reach for his gun. Four big men made a point with bats on the two large men. Both Siroco men folded to the ground, where they were beaten further. It was focused brutality. Disable and dominate the enemy… completely.
Pablo ordered his men to stop. “We no kill them,” he said, standing over the bloodied Siroco men, who were conscious but were incapable of resistance. “What you want us to do with them?” he asked Noah, with whom he had some prior relationship.
“I don’t know… We just want to take the car,” Noah said.
“How about we put them on the ship tonight? They go to Cuba… Same price for you,” Pablo offered.
“Yes, that sounds good,” Noah responded. “What happens in Cuba?”
“They go to medical clinic. They have organs, or blood, or something, it don’t matter to us… It just business.”
“Yes, that’s good,” Noah said. Enrique removed the key fob to the Panamera and pressed it. The lights went on, and they heard the clicking sound of its doors unlocking.
Pablo said something to his guys, who then moved with military precision. They applied flex ties to the hands and feet of the battered Siroco men. Two of Pablo’s men lifted each of them and placed them separately in the trunks of two cars. As the removal of the men was happening, Pablo came over to Noah, placed his hand on his shoulder, and said, “You owe us two Gs, amigo, don’t forget.”
Noah said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get it. I’ll bring it to you personally. We got you.” They exchanged a sports-bro shake and hug, and Pablo and his pack vanished quickly. Pablo’s leadership skills were obvious, as were his organizational abilities. This had gone like a special-forces op on a battlefield.
With Pablo and his crew gone, Noah got in the Panamera and started the engine. Enrique got in the Tahoe and started his. Together, they drove out of the lot and headed toward the Biltmore Hotel, mission accomplished. Enrique tapped his phone. It was answered, and he said, “Carlos, we got the car. We’re taking it to the hotel. You better get that two thousand.”
“I’ll have it to you tonight, Rick. My guy is coming out soon… I’ll get it to you tonight, I promise,” Carlos said and clicked off. He thought about calling Derek, then decided that it would be more effective to give him the good news in person. He settled in, waiting for his client to emerge, and felt good about the actions he had engineered. He was sure they would result in an additional bonus.
* * *
I hesitated for a moment when I heard that Linda and James were conferenced on the sat phone. I needed Lenny to hear the conversation, but I wasn’t sure if Agent Ross should hear it. “Hold for a sec,” I said into the phone and looked to Agent Ross. “This is real inside stuff, Agent Ross. We need for this to be confidential, like you wanted with your information. Are we good? Can you keep secrets like we agreed to do?”
Ross appeared to be thinking about it. Lenny jumped in. “Howie, cut the shit. You want our help, you keep this to yourself. Or we walk!”
I loved it when Lenny went forceful. Of course, it worked.
“Sure, no problem,” Ross said. “This is confidential. I’m good.”
I went back to the sat phone and put it on speaker. “James, we need you, buddy. We’re in a situation down here. We’ve got a madman on the loose, people are getting killed, and I’m right in the middle of the damn thing.” I paused, taking in the seriousness of my own words. I saw Lauren looking at me, and I saw immediately two different things: she was impressed with my business, and she was running down—her energy, her life force. She needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. I registered that and tried to move with more speed.
“James,” I started. “We’ve got a beacon on one guy that’s going in and out, we’ve got a burner somewhere here in Miami with a Chinese general, and we’ve got a bunch of dead guys. I need for you to work on the first two.”
“What do you want me to do?” James asked.
“I have an idea on the beacon. It won’t be easy. On the burner here, you know what to do on that,” I said. “Linda has that information.”
&
nbsp; “Okay, okay, talk to me,” he said with some enthusiasm.
“The beacon is probably known and therefore compromised. It led our esteemed FBI out into the swamps and got a bunch of them killed. I think the guy knew about it and manipulated it. But it was on at different times, and therefore, it was in physical proximity to the guy’s phones. We can track that backward.” I stopped; he stopped. He was pretty fast and could probably see what was coming.
“Yes,“ he said, clearly thinking.
“I want you to geolocate every cell phone in the vicinity of that beacon every time it was on. We have access to the beacon. You can triangulate its location and every cell phone around it. The distance would be one to two feet, not more.”
“Jesus, Derek, do you know how much horsepower that will take?” he said. “There could be over a billion calls to analyze.”
“Yes, I know. You’re one of the few facilities in the world with that kind of power.”
“I’d have to shut down the lab just for you. Man, that’s going to create problems.”
“You and I both know you can do this.”
“Yes, I think we can do that… But the logistics; I could get fired. That national security shit last week almost got me chopped here.”
“James, I can have the national security guys come in and take over the lab. This is all different now.”
“Give me a break,” James said.
Agent Ross broke in. “Sir, this is FBI Special Agent Howard Ross. I will have the United States Attorney General call you in one minute, if necessary. And if that does not do it, I can even arrange for the President of the United States to order you. Do you understand how serious this matter now is?”
“Derek, get his shield and read me his ID number.”
Ross handed me his shield; I read the number to James. We could hear clicking in the background.
“Okay,” James came back after a short minute. “Ross is real. I will need a piece of paper requesting this as a matter of national security. Agent Ross, can you do that… like you just threatened me?”
“Yes,” Ross said, “I can have something to you from…. Do you want it from the AG or the Director of DHS? Your choice.”
“DHS. I need it in the next ten minutes. It’s put up or go home time, Agent Ross.”
“I’ll need an email address to send it.” James gave it, and Ross wrote it down, picked up his cell phone, tapped it, and moved himself to the back of the office to make the call. I couldn’t remember James ever being so assertive about anything. He was a computer nerd who was one of the best in the world, especially the hacking part. But he had never been a forceful person, until tonight. Whatever. It worked.
“Okay, James, get on this beacon. Find this guy’s cell phone and then geolocate that thing to within inches. Here’s the beacon number and access code,” I said and read off the beacon numbers. “Also, get on the Chinese general’s phone. Same thing: geolocate that guy. Anything else that comes up, get back to me immediately. We’re going back to the hotel. Linda, stay plugged in to this. Give James whatever he needs…. Linda!”
“Yes, boss.”
“Okay, we’re done. Talk to you later.”
We all clicked off. I was pleased but still a little surprised at James’ insistence on creds and Ross’ immediate agreement to confidentiality in order to make things work with us in that moment. This really was national security. I was—well, Lenny and I and Lauren were—right in the middle of it, and Lev was still out there. He had threatened to kill me and was probably out there somewhere under a rock making hard plans to do just that.
This Miami case was not my usual type of business—luckily, I had friends.
* * *
As soon as I ended the conference call, I launched myself over to Lauren on the couch, wrapped her in a hug, and gave her as much psychic energy as I could. She held on too. What a day for all of us, but especially for her. In the purest form of self-defense, she had shot and killed a man at least twice her size—how does one process that kind of life-altering event? Her hair was a mess, and her blouse was splattered in blood. But she was still right there with us, hanging in and being strong.
Ross finished his call. I released Lauren. We all moved to the desk area and formed a semicircle.
“We’re going back to our hotel. Please keep us informed of developments, especially that mess down in the swamp,” I said to Ross.
He was still visibly shaken. “Stay available,” he said, paused, then continued. “Listen, you guys gave us the real meat on this case. I want to thank you. But you’re in danger while Lavorosky is out there; don’t let your guard down. You can call me whenever you need anything. Don’t forget that. And listen.” He paused again and gave me, then Lenny, a good stare. “Whatever happened down there in Cayman, I’ll need to know about it.”
I wasn’t sure what to say; probably the least was best. Lenny moved closer to Agent Ross and, towering over him, placed his meaty arm over Ross’ shoulders and pulled him in. “The cleanest is when all hands wash each other, you know, Howie,” Lenny said as he gave Ross a good squeeze.
I tapped my phone. “Carlos, we’re coming out. Back to the hotel.”
“I’m your guy,” he said. It was his brand, and it was appropriate, based on the high quality of his service. I welcomed hearing it. We collected our stuff and exited Lauren’s office. Agent Ross stayed and was speaking to two of the law enforcement people who remained in the building as we walked out the doors. Carlos had pulled the Highlander closer to the building—the two vehicles were still blocking the path to the parking lot, but at least the dead body had been removed. The shattered windshield on the one told its own sad story. Carlos was standing next to his car, lights on, all four doors and the back hatch open, waving and wearing a smile… Excellence in action.
* * *
I sat in the back seat next to Lauren, and we held hands. She had been weakened by the pummeling events of the day, yet showed an inner strength which I fully appreciated. I had only known her for about a week—I wanted to learn a lot more. I wanted to comfort her and protect her.
Lenny was in the front passenger seat, and Carlos was driving us safely, which was his usual high standards. Lenny was on his cell phone. It was about a fifteen-minute drive from Prime to the Biltmore, but there was heavy traffic, which was unusual at this hour.
Just as Lenny clicked off, Carlos’ phone chimed. He took the call, listened, and then said, “We’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Your car is at the hotel,” Carlos said, checking me in the mirror. “My guys took care of it.”
“What was the final cost?” I asked.
“Two thousand. Enrique’s friends are good at that stuff. No police, no problems… Case closed.”
“Good… You did good, and they did good. I’ll take care of it as soon as we get to the hotel. Will your friends be there?” I asked.
“Maybe,” he said.
Just then, my cell chimed. It was Agent Ross. I accepted and put it on speaker so that Lenny could hear. Maybe good news. “Where are you?” he roared.
“We’re on the way to the hotel. What’s up?” I said.
“Have you seen this shit in the newspaper?”
“What’s that?” I said, but I knew what he was referring to. Olivia’s piece online.
“This article in the Miami Herald. It’s all over. And how did they get these photos? Were you involved in this?”
“Agent Ross, I’ll check it as soon as we get back to the hotel. I have no idea what that’s about.”
“This is terrible. We might as well send Lavorosky and his crew a note to run and hide.”
“You think he doesn’t know that already?” I asked, a little incredulous at his naivete or whatever that was. Maybe he was just testing me.
“This is not the way we do business. We’ll deal with the
se media people… They only hurt our ability to do our job. Freedom of the press… Jeez!”
“Agent Ross,” I said. “Maybe you could use the press to help you. You know, like, plant information that can help you, trick these guys in some way?”
“No, we don’t deal with the press. We have a press officer and he handles them.”
This was our government. I let it slide by changing the subject.
“Any word on the Everglades thing?”
“Nothing new at this moment,” he said. “We have another crew on the way to the site.” He clicked off in a huff. He was angry, and he probably did not believe me about the newspaper article. Whatever.
I started to ask Lenny what his call was about—perhaps the good news he had mentioned?—when my sat phone chimed. It was James.
“Hey man, what you got?” I answered.
“I’ve got the beacon program working. I tracked it back to its inception at a building in Miami: the FBI office. I made a program, and it’s working, but man, this is going to take some time. There are billions of calls to analyze separately.” He paused.
“Good. Keep me informed.” What else was I supposed to say? I knew what was next.
“Okay, okay. What about my overtime here?” he said. Follow the money.
“I’ll do something good for you, I promise. Just get this done as quickly as possible. Linda has all the information if you need anything.”
“What’s with her, man? What’s her problem?” he said.
“James… Just get the job done. And give her a break,” I said as I clicked off. This was the last thing I needed, children acting like children. Unfortunately, both of them were exceptionally good at their jobs. I was trying to run a business, take care of Lauren, and find the time and place to recenter and re-energize all of us. I didn’t need kids’ stuff.
We arrived at the Biltmore, which, just by itself, produced a kind of relief—we were home, sort of. I instructed Carlos to park near the entrance so that I could conclude our business.
Downward Dog in Miami Page 31
