by Bill Craig
Chapter Thirteen
Coffee. That was Harker’s first thought when he opened his eyes to a new day. Last night had been tough, especially since Lisa had shown up at his office unexpectedly. He had not wanted to put her in any danger, but she had stumbled into it unexpectedly.
Yawning, he padded into the kitchen and got the coffee maker ready and added water, then he turned it on and headed to the bathroom to shower, shave, and take care of business. Fifteen minutes later, Harker emerged with a towel cinched around his waist. He pulled on a teal sleeveless t-shirt and jeans. He threaded his holster onto his belt and fastened it, then slipped his gun inside it. He snatched a black and white Aloha shirt and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned to cover his gun. Then he slipped on his white New Balance walking shoes and headed back to the kitchen.
Harker poured a cup of coffee and nuked a couple of frozen egg patties and ate them as he read the morning paper. Shit. He had made the front page. Lisa had written the attack at his office up, and actually managed to tell the story without bias, surprising given that she had been involved. He particularly liked the line about the police having no suspects. Maybe they didn’t, but he sure did. Maybe he didn’t know the shooter’s name, but he knew who he worked for. Raoul Cervantes. He planned on hitting the streets and seeing if he could get a lead on Cervantes. The man existed. Harker knew that for a fact. Cervantes couldn’t remain a ghost forever. So, Harker would find him. One way or another. And this time, he would take him down once for all!
“You fucked up, Eduardo. That’s what you are telling me!” Raoul Cervantes yelled.
“Somehow, he knew I was coming. Otherwise, he’d be dead,” Eduardo said calmly in the face of his boss’s rage.
“From what you have told me, it was you who nearly lost their life, not AJ Harker.”
“It was a close thing on both sides,” Eduardo shrugged nonchalantly.
“So, you keep telling me. Harker must die. I don’t care how many men it takes. Kill him and do it soon!” Cervantes ordered.
“It will be done,” Eduardo Torres said.
Tina was already in the office when Harker arrived. “You have to start inviting me to these wild parties you throw after hours, boss man,” she said.
“It was no party, angel. It was a hit,” Harker told her.
“Really? Did you call the cops?” Tina asked.
“I did. They couldn’t find the guy.”
“You think that was a surprise?”
“Not since Manny was off.”
“Agreed,” Tina said.
Sylvia Cain frowned as she read the police report from the night before. Apparently, Harker had been the target of a hitman and had fought the guy off. There was no way that his luck would last. Either he would die, or he would take out the killer. She sighed as she pulled a pack of Virginia Slims Menthols from her purse and shook one free and lit it.
Part of her felt that she should talk to Harker, tell him who she really was. But another part of her was angry about him turning her down. She had liked that. Hadn’t liked it at all. The question was, what was she going to do? It was a good question. One that she had spent the night pondering. She tapped the ashes off into an ashtray.
Her sister, Joella was a mess over Emma’s death. She would not understand the importance of what was going on. Sylvia frowned. She liked Harker. But she didn’t like being turned down. She was also highly pissed off about Emma’s death. Emma had been a good kid. She hadn’t deserved to die. Not like she had died, murdered on a private eye’s doorstep. That was something that Sylvia wanted vengeance for!
Harker met Vince Turkle at the bar inside the Fontainebleau hotel. Vince was a lawyer that had been around Miami a long time. He had done work for Harker in the past and Harker had done work for Turkle in the past. Vince was out by the pool having a morning drink as Harker walked up and dropped into a chair across from him.
“AJ, my boy, it’s been a while,” Vice greeted him.
“Yes, it has, Vince. How’s the city been treating you?” Harker asked. A waitress approached, and Harker ordered a beer.
“Business as you might have guessed is good. Crooks remain stupid and they pay me huge amounts of money to try and convince juries that their low intellect is why they committed such ridiculous offenses,” Vince chuckled.
“Tell me what you know about Raoul Cervantes,” Harker said.
“AJ, that is a name spoken only in whispers around this town,” Turkle glanced around frantically.
“But, you know it,” Harker said. It wasn’t a question.
“This discussion might be better had within the confines of my office,” Turkle said softly.
“Is that because nobody can overhear it there, Vince?” Harker asked.
“You know that it is, AJ.”
“Then I’ll meet you there at 3 p.m., Vince. You had better be there,” Harker told him. He drained his beer and left, leaving Vinnie to pay the bill. Harker headed for his next destination.
The streets in Little Havana were full of people which was to be expected. Street vendors were setting up and many of the stores were opening for business. His first stop was the Versailles Bakery at 3501 SW 8th St. Jorge Campos was hard-wired into the streets in Little Havana. He could always be found at the bakery after it opened. Jorge was a skinny little guy, barely over five feet tall. He had curly black hair, brown eyes and dark brown skin. He was wearing a stained blue t-shirt and cut-off jeans, ankle socks and beat up running shoes. When Harker dropped onto the stool beside him at the counter, his eyes went wide.
“Don’t run, Jorge, I don’t want to have to shoot you,” Harker told him.
“What the hell you want with me?” Jorge asked.
“I’m looking for Raoul Cervantes,” Harker told him.
“Aw . . . hell no! Why the fuck you getting in my face, Harker?”
“Because you know Raoul, Jorge,” Harker told him.
“Says who?” Jorge said, shaking his head.
“Says me, Jorge,” Harker smiled at him. It reminded Jorge of the look a shark gave to its prey just before it attacked.
“You trying to get me killed?”
“Nope. I’m just trying to get a lead on Cervantes. I think you might know something that will help me.”
“Maybe I do. How you going to protect me?”
“You talk to me, I can get the cops to protect you, Jorge.”
“I gotta think about this, AJ.”
“You do that, Jorge,” Harker told him, tucking a card into his shirt pocket. Harker stood and left the building. Jorge sat and looked at the front of the card for a long time. He stuck it in his pocket and left the shop.
Harker looked around, wondering where he should go next. He took a deep breath and let it out. He went to his car and headed back to the office. “Hey, AJ, Dan Crawford is on the phone for you,” Tina told him as he walked in.
“Put him through into my office,” Harker told her. He went inside and dropped into the chair behind his desk. He picked up the receiver on his desk and stabbed the button that was blinking at him. Crawford was DEA back when Harker had been on the job. They had continued to be friends after Harker had left the Miami P.D. and had gone private.
“Hello?” he said.
“Harker, what the fuck are you up too?” Dan Crawford asked.
“What do you mean?” Harker asked
“Why are you here asking around?” Crawford asked.
“Hey, you called me, pal,” Harker reminded him.
“Yes, I did,” Crawford agreed.
“So, talk to me.”
“I’m trying to help,” Crawford told him.
“I know that,” Harker admitted.
“Stirring up Raoul Cervantes is never a good idea, AJ,” Crawford said.
“Normally, I would agree with you on that, Dan. But, not this time. Cervantes made it personal between us.”
“How exactly did he do that?”
“He had an innocent young girl murdered at
my front door. That’s not something that I can let go.”
“Aw shit, AJ. What the hell are you planning on doing?”
“I plan on finding Raoul Cervantes and putting him down once and for all,” Harker said, tapping a cigarette out and sticking it in the corner of his mouth. He pulled out a lighter and fired it up.
“We’ve been trying to put that son of a bitch away for years, Harker. You know that as well as I do. He manages to slip out of our grasp every single time!” Crawford said.
“Have you ever wondered just why that is, Dan?” Harker asked, blowing out a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling fan in his office. It turned lazily, dissipating the cloud of smoke.
“You know I have, AJ,” Crawford replied slowly.
“Then how about just backing off and letting me draw the motherfucker out into the open, then you can pounce when he comes after me.”
“Do you know what you’re setting yourself up for?”
“Damn straight I know, pal. There is no way in hell that Cervantes is going to wriggle out of this one.”
“I’ll do what I can, AJ. That’s all I can promise.”
“That’s good enough for me, Dan,” Harker said before hanging up.
Harker continued to puff on his cigarette as he considered his options. He knew that Dan would be keeping an eye on him, as would Manny. But would that be enough to keep him from getting killed? There was no real answer for that question, but that was okay. He’d get through it one way or another.
Jorge Campos looked nervously around as he cautiously approached the small bodega. He had put out the word that he needed to speak to Cervantes less than an hour ago, so this quick summons came as a surprise to him. He hoped that Cervantes wouldn’t be angry with him for dealing with Harker, but it wasn’t like Harker had left him with any choice.
Jorge was sweating as he stepped inside. The air-conditioning in the store was turned up to high and he immediately felt the sweat on his skin turn cool and start to dry. He breathed a little easier, trying to calm himself as he walked back towards the small office at the back of the store. Two well-dressed men were standing outside the office door. Jorge didn’t recognize either of them.
“I’m here to meet with Mr. Cervantes, he called me,” Jorge explained to them. He knew that his face had gone pale and the sweat was back on his forehead as he waited on the two men to make a move. Finally, one of them opened the office door and gestured for Jorge to enter. Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Jorge stepped into the office and the man shut the door behind him. The space inside was cramped, but other than Jorge himself, Raoul Cervantes was the only one present.
“Where is the manager?” Jorge asked.
“Working,” Raoul Cervantes replied, then said, “Why were you looking for me, Jorge? You should know better.”
“AJ Harker is looking for you. Something about a dead girl turning up on his front porch or sidewalk or something,” Jorge explained.
“And Harker blames me for this?” Cervantes asked.
“He does. He says that it is not something that he can let go.”
“It is about time that Harker learns that I am not somebody that he wants to cross.”
“I already told him that, Mr. Cervantes. But, Harker is fucking crazy! He doesn’t understand the business!”
“Then perhaps you should make him understand.”
“That is easier said than done, Sir!”
Chapter Fourteen
Vincent Turkle was waiting in his office when AJ Harker arrived and walked in, the secretary having waved him past her. Harker closed the office door behind him and took a seat across from Turkle. Vincent opened the bottom drawer of his desk and brought out two highball glasses and a bottle of Jim Beam.
“You want ice, there’s some over there in the mini-fridge.” He proceeded to pour two fingers of bourbon in both gasses and pushed one across the desk to Harker.
“I’m good,” Harker told him as he picked his glass up and took a sip. “Good stuff. Now let’s talk about Raoul Cervantes. No prying ears in here, are there?” Harker asked.
“Nope. I have it swept three times a day just to make sure. Are you sure you want to openly go after Cervantes, Harker?”
“Yes. If you read the papers, you know why.”
“The dead girl on your doorstep.”
“Exactly. I can’t let that go.”
“No, I didn’t figure you could, AJ,” Turkle sighed.
“So, what can you tell me about him, Vince?” Harker asked.
“He’s one of the most vicious drug lords operating out of Miami. I hear he’s branching out into weapons smuggling too.”
“Yeah, I picked up on that part. It’s what got the girl killed. She found proof and was bringing it to me.”
“Why you, AJ?”
“That’s a question I’ve been asking but still don’t have an answer for,” Harker shrugged and asked, “What gangs are moving his product?”
“He’s been supplying the Miami boys, as well as the Satan’s Angels motorcycle gang. Between the two groups, they control the majority of all the cocaine and meth moving in Miami-Dade and Broward County. Hell, a few of them are clients.”
“I figured. That’s why I came to ask you. Do you know where I might find Cervantes?”
“Have you checked Little Havana? I’ve heard he hangs out there some, maybe over in the Latin Quarter,” Vince shrugged.
“That’s the best you can do?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers, pal. Remember you came to me.”
“I remember. If you should hear from Cervantes, tell him I’m coming for him.”
“I can do that. Hey, AJ?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s been nice knowing you,” Vince told him.
“You sound like you think I won’t be coming back,” Harker observed.
“I call ‘em like I see ‘em, AJ.”
“Well, you’re calling this one wrong.”
“Time will tell.”
“Yes, it will,” Harker drained his glass and stood and walked out the door leaving a forlorn-looking Vince Turkle behind him.
Harker had just stepped out into the street when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his shirt pocket and answered it. It was Manny Mendez.
“I have a name to go with the face of the guy that your security camera got trying to shoot you,” Manny said.
“Great, what is it?” Harker asked, walking towards his car, his eyes scanning the street and sidewalks.
“Eduardo Torres. He’s a Colombian hitman and he works for Raoul Cervantes. He’s supposed to be really good at his job.”
“So, am I.”
“Yeah, I know that too. Just be careful, AJ. Torres is a real dangerous son of a bitch. He won’t stop until one of you is dead.”
“Neither will I, Manny.”
“I know that too.”
“Thanks for the tip, Manny.”
“Until this is over, I got a car sitting on your office to keep an eye out on Tina,” Manny said.
“Probably a good idea, at least until Tina finds out. Then I won’t be able to help your sorry ass, amigo,” Harker told him.
“I know that, too, AJ.”
“Good.” Harker hung up and settled into his car. He turned it on and connected the Bluetooth before pulling out into traffic. He headed for the Miami Latin Quarter. He hadn’t talked to anyone there yet. Hector Caruso was a big wheel on the streets in the Latin Quarter. He had his finger in everything underhanded going on there. If anybody knew where Cervantes was hiding, it would be Hector. Plus, Hector owed Harker a favor for keeping Hector from being killed by a Cuban gangster named Villas.
Hector had a second-floor office in the historic district that ran through the Latin Quarter and Little Havana known as Calle Ocho. Harker parked his car out front and locked it. He was glad it was on the side of the street that was shaded from the sun. Though the clouds were starting to build in, hinting at a possible storm rolling in across
the ‘Glades’. Rain was one thing you could almost always count on in Florida. Usually it fell with a clockwork precision. But not always.
Harker pushed open the glass door and made his way up the flight of stairs that opened into a wide hallway. Hector’s name was painted on a frosted glass window on one of the four doors that opened out into the hallway. Harker walked over and tried the knob. It was unlocked, and he stepped inside.
“Hector, how have you been?” Harker asked.
“AJ Harker, it has been a while,” Hector Caruso stood and walked around his desk extending his hand. Aside from being a local godfather in the Latin Quarter, Hector was also a member of the city council representing the Latin Quarter. Harker shook hands with the man and took a seat across the desk from Caruso’s chair.
“I’ve been good, Hector. And it has been awhile since I’ve seen you. I take it that your legal matters have cleared up?” Harker asked.
“With your help they did. I still have to wonder why you helped me,” Caruso leaned back in his chair.
“I helped you because despite you being involved in crooked things, you actually do care about the people in your district. Villas didn’t. He just wanted power,” Harker said.
“Yes, I do care about my constituents. By keeping a hand in the illegal activities, I can make sure that they don’t bear the brunt of things. Instead, Overtown and areas like it does.”
“I appreciate that, Hector. I really do.”
“So, what can I do for you, AJ?”
“I’m looking for Raoul Cervantes,” Harker told him.
“Wow. Do you know how dangerous that is?”
“Believe me I know. But he had a woman killed on my doorstep. I can’t let that go,” Harker told him.
“I can see that. I’ll put the word out and call you when I know something,” Hector said.
“I won’t ask for more than that, amigo.”
“I owe you, AJ.”
“Says you.”
