Burn Notice: A Key West Thriller (Kelly Maclean Book 2)

by Nate Hawk

  A medium aged Hispanic-looking man climbed out. He was slightly taller than Owen but he wasn’t an operator. He looked more like a politician. Owen was sure he usually had a fake ear-to-ear smile plastered on his wealthy face but at the moment he was hollering at a much smaller and meek man who climbed out of the car secondly.

  “Goddamn it! Figures this place is closed up,” Swanson said. “It’s a fucking shithole too. I can’t wait to get off of this primitive island, out of this district for that matter! We need to get back to D.C. If it wasn’t for that dreadful traffic on US1 we would have been here before they closed. We’ve got to find out who that painting was shipped to, after we were instructed to send it here.”

  Owen couldn’t believe his ears. Was this the man who had shipped Rick Quinn the painting? If so, he might have the key to what was going on and why he had been blacklisted. Owen had a plan, well, more of an idea but it was dangerous and it could prove deadly. He pulled out the stainless revolver, stood up and began walking towards the idling black vehicle.

  Then he said, “Don’t move! You two cracker jacks put your hands where I can see them. Any funny business and I’ll cap both of your asses right here, right now.”

  Swanson’s specialty was saving his own neck so his hands shot up in the air quite smoothly. Will Riley had a different initial reaction. He was sure this black thug was going to shoot them both.

  “Oh my God, we’ll be killed,” he said right before a piss stain began growing on the front of his trousers.

  ***

  Kelly and Megan took a stroll down Eaton Street where they immediately picked up Simonton Street and continued south six blocks to Truman Avenue. Then Kelly tugged on Megan’s hand and opened the door to Pisces Seafood Restaurant. The menu out front had dubbed the place “the ultimate dining experience” and initially impressed, they went in and asked for a table. Kelly hadn’t been out with a beautiful woman since…, well he didn’t want to start thinking about Jen. It was too painful. He ordered the filet mignon and Megan ordered the Pisces Surf and Turf, which boasted “truffle sauce”. Kelly had a stray thought; remembering now that dating was more expensive than the simple life he’d been living.

  They were both in good spirits and the mood was enhanced steadily as the two continued sipping on wine. They had started out with a small glass apiece but the conversation had been going so well that they had both agreed to commit to a bottle of Portuguese vinho verde. Kelly wasn’t a wine drinker and he had no idea if white wine went well with steak. He didn’t care either. Personally, he’d have rather had a beer but he knew this wasn’t going to be a beer evening. Truthfully, he had thought about some one-on-one time with Megan for awhile but the timing had never seemed right. He was pleased that Owen had picked up on their interest in each other. Kelly knew he owed Owen one for sleeping in the sand doing “recon”. What the hell was Owen going to see anyways? A bunch of bikers trailing a box truck as it returned around three am? Could Owen really penetrate the security system? Kelly figured that he would have to find a way to pay back Owen.

  “Kelly, are you listening to me? Kelly?” Megan said with slight irritation.

  “Oh, sorry! I guess I just spaced out for a moment thinking about Owen out there by himself. He sure was nice to give us an evening together.”

  “Yes. In fact,” she said. “We’ve been here for some time now and our bottle seems to have run dry.”

  “Oh yes,” Kelly said carefully. “Perhaps I should order us another.”

  He began to raise his hand in an effort to attract the waiter’s attention. Megan quickly reached over and grabbed his hand, pulling it down.

  “Actually, I think we should request the check,” she said with a seductive tone in her voice and a twinkle in her eyes.

  “Oh, I see,” Kelly said as he made a slight comfort adjustment to accommodate the changing anatomy inside of his pants.

  The waiter had noticed Kelly’s attempt to call him over. Thinking quickly after deciding against another bottle of wine, Kelly quickly retrieved his credit card and passed it to the server. He said that they had important business and needed to leave in a hurry. If I had a dollar for every time a couple left in a hurry of the promise of passion, I sure wouldn’t be working here, the waiter thought. After finalizing the arrangements, they were out the door in record time, a newfound craving showing in their steps. As they walked back they had all fingers interlocked and were exchanging star struck glances towards each other. Kelly raised Megan’s hand and gave her a charming kiss. She reciprocated by reaching to give him a peck on the cheek that quickly turned into their first real kiss. Like lusting teenagers, they stumbled off of the sidewalk and backed up to a tree for a further exploration of each other’s oral cavities. With the excitement growing they continued shuffling north on Simonton Street.

  As they neared the B&B Kelly and Megan both noticed something odd. Why was there a black limousine with its lights on idling right out front of their building? As they cautiously approached, one of the rear windows began creeping down. Kelly stepped in front of Megan, as if to shield her, before realizing who was in the back of the vehicle. There sat Owen, covered in sand and debris, the .41 magnum drawn and pointed towards the cab of the car.

  “Sorry to interrupt your evening but something important has come up,” he said. “Get in.”

  ***

  Chapter 12

  Brothers Lou Deluca and Franco West sat nearly motionless as they stared ahead. The eerie calmness and occasional signs of wildlife along US1 north had begun to yield to an increasing number of streetlights and heavier urban activity. It had been a mostly uneventful drive through the Keys and the “import” gang had only seen a couple of cherry toppers, harmlessly running traffic. None of them had seemed interested in the group but another officer’s intentions had been unclear. What had looked to be a slick topped State boy had followed the caravan for a couple of miles before one of the bikers did what he was paid to do. He had gassed the bike in a showing of obstinate disrespect and made enough of a scene that he got himself a citation. That had taken the heat off of the other riders and certainly off of the unmarked box truck. The biker would certainly get a ticket but that was why they rode along with the truck. They were to offer a distraction if the law seemed to take any interest. Besides, the biker knew Lou and Franco would pay him well for taking the fall. Plus, the other side of the operation in Miami had connections and they may just be able to get the ticket pulled anyway. As the men neared the southern Miami warehouse where they would unload their gear, Deluca spoke up.

  “You are not to say a word about the stranger that you fools got messed up with. You sit in the truck and we will get it unloaded and then we will get the fuck outta here and back to Key West. Capiche?”

  Franco puffed up his chest in anger as he said, “No need to talk about this same bullshit again. I got it. I fucked up. Sounds like those three guys we met earlier today are going to take care of that black guy they’re chasing and this other turd that’s been causing problems so let’s just let it go.”

  “Well, you just make sure it doesn’t happen again. We’re making a ton of money with our friends here in Miami. This operation is a lot more important than stroking your wounded ego.”

  Franco had plenty more to say but he did the first smart thing that he’d done all day. He kept his mouth shut. The crew arrived at the Miami warehouse where a couple of huge guys opened the overhead doors and motioned the group in. Deluca had a real bad feeling about how this transaction would go. There was something inside of his gut that he just couldn’t shake. He knew the warehouse and the procedure and so far it was going as it always had. The warehouse was huge and although Deluca had thought he was above driving the damn shipment to Miami for delivery, it hadn’t been that long since he was doing it himself. The buyers of the pallets of the product were efficient. They had some of their men positioned in a defensive perimeter and others were nearby, ready to work. With the use of a pallet jack they had qu
ickly unloaded the contents of the truck. Perhaps the operation was running at one hundred percent efficiency because the underboss that ran this niche of the family’s business was there too.

  Luigi Basciano was the most powerful man in the room but he was also the smallest. In fact, he was the only man in the room that didn’t look like he’d spent the last ten years preparing for a bodybuilding contest. Basciano was an underboss who reported directly to Miami’s most wealthy and powerful Mafia Don. Basciano didn’t need to add forty pounds of muscle mass to be terrifying. His violent reputation preceded him and everyone in the warehouse feared every inch of his 5’7” medium-built frame. He’d killed guys just because he’d felt they were acting too nervously around him so all of the men currently present knew to stay attentive but not overly so.

  “Long time, no see,” Basciano said to Deluca as the man climbed down from the cab of the anonymous white box truck.

  Basciano offered a kiss on both sides of Deluca’s face. Deluca wondered if that was the prearranged sign for someone to whack him so Deluca could commandeer his business for himself. All Deluca hoped to do was to get himself and his crew back to Key West in one piece.

  “What brings you here personally?” Basciano asked. “Is that your brother that I see in the cab? Don’t tell me that he’s forgotten how to show abitta of fug’n respect?”

  “No, no. No, sir. He broke his leg in a riding accident… shattered his knee!” Deluca insisted apologetically. “He can’t walk or drive. It’s really bad.”

  “Riding accident huh? You know I’ve got half a mind to head down to the island to see just what the hell is going on down there. Late shipments. Busted up employees. You don’t want me to catch you lying to me Lou. I’m sure you’ve heard what I did to the last man that tried to bullshit me.”

  Basciano looked deep into Lou Deluca’s soul. Then he loosened the tie around his neck as he glanced at his watch. Oh shit, Deluca thought. This is gonna be it for me. Then Deluca glanced around in fear in an attempt to interpret what he might gain by the posturing of the underboss’ men. Then Basciano spoke up.

  “It’s getting late here and my wife has been a nag’n at me to spend more time with her. You know how these fug’n things go, don’t you Lou?” he asked rhetorically. In truth Deluca didn’t really know how those things went. He’d never been married but he knew enough to keep his mouth shut. “What’s everybody standing around for? Danno: give this man his fug’n money!”

  The payment for the shipment was in a large waterproof Pelican box. It was the same procedure as always. Deluca found his mind racing at the many number of things that could have been inside of the container. As Danno handed it over, Deluca thought the weight seemed about right.

  “Do you want to count it?” the underboss asked with a bit of sarcasm.

  Deluca knew that his side of the business arrangement was all about two things. Getting the right merchandise there on time sure, but a display of trust for the other man was just as important. He sure couldn’t look weak in the moment or disrespect the powerful man that he was doing business with. “No sir. I’m sure it counts right.”

  “I thought so. Well, if you’ll excuse us we’ve got to get your crew out of here and get on with our evening. Pleasure Lou. You take care down there,” he said a bit more like a stern warning than just a pleasant farewell.

  The bikes were loaded up the ramp and into the back of the box truck where the machines and their riders stayed for the duration of the trip back to Key West.

  ***

  Megan and Kelly glanced at the B&B. Almost there! they both were thinking in a brief moment of inebriated discouragement. After seeing Owen, Kelly felt his excitement fading some. Last he’d seen Owen the man had disappeared into the underbrush like an alligator silently crawling back towards the waters. Now, dirty and animated, he was riding around in the back of a limousine like some groupie rock star.

  “How...?” Kelly began to ask.

  “What…? Megan said simultaneously.

  “Hurry up and get in,” Owen commanded.

  Megan and Kelly looked at each other and shrugged as they released hands and began climbing into the back door of the limousine. Almost there! Kelly thought to himself again as the idea flew out of his mind. As the newcomers entered the vehicle they sized up the other passengers. Swanson had a big campaign grin on his face and seemed to be mostly relaxed considering he had a large caliber pistol pointed his direction. Riley was pale and he looked like he might puke at any moment. The wet spot on the front of his pants was obviously the origin of the odor in the air.

  “So here is what is going on. These two and their driver showed up just after you two left. Turns out Swanson here is a Congressman,” Owen said with some amusement. “Never would have guessed with a smile like his, right? Anyway, this other clown doesn’t seem to be important in the grand scheme of things. He’s a speechwriter… a political aid of sorts. Maybe even the brain that got Swanson elected. So Swanson here shows up at Southern Florida Import and Export mumbling about the business’ operating hours and some painting. Turns out we know what painting he’s referring to. He had the same thought that we did but he was coming from the other angle. We wanted to know who he was but he wanted to know who Quinn was. He planned to check the shipping records. He was gonna threaten the business with some action…”

  “Eminent Domain,” Thomas Swanson said proudly. “I was gonna threaten them with governmental seizure of their property, by God, if they didn’t show a little bit of professional courtesy and tell me who the recipient of that shipment was!”

  “Feel better?” Owen asked Swanson rhetorically. “Now shut the hell up!” Owen glanced back towards Megan and Kelly. “I guess Swanson has ties to Miami’s underworld… they helped him get elected somehow… So he was going to hire an assassin to kill Quinn who was calling himself Deep Throat during the blackmail process. You see the irony right? Maybe there’s more in common here with Watergate than we thought! But Quinn knows Swanson’s secret and apparently it would crush his budding political career if the media got ahold of such a story.”

  Megan tritely asked Owen, “Did he reveal the details of his big secret?”

  “No! And quite honestly I’m not sure that we want to know. We’re not in the blackmail business and we don’t need another group of killers gunning for us. I say leave the damn secret alone.”

  “I think that’s real sage advice, Owen. We don’t need any more trouble. But now that you have them at gunpoint, what the fuck are we going to do with them?” Kelly asked, lightheaded from the wine.

  “You sure as hell can’t kill a sitting US Congressman! You’ll be dead in a day,” Swanson promised in an effort to hide the first signs of fear that Owen had noticed.

  “Shut your mouth,” Owen said. “You need a CIA asshole eliminated and we can do that. We’ve got to take care of those bikers too. But we are going to need your help on something so we’re going to work together and we’re going to get through this. Now I’m going to lower the gun and we are going to work together on a solution that gets us all out of this mess in an agreeable manner. Sound good?”

  “I was just profoundly confident that we could work towards a peaceable outcome for all involved parties,” Swanson said slimily. Will Riley just stared for a few moments without uttering a word and then shook his head in agreement. The man was no operator. In fact, he was an emotional wreck.

  So there, in the back of the Lincoln Town Car limousine, a nurse, a washed-up CIA agent, a washed-up cop, a congressional aid and a sitting US Congressman put together a plan to solve all of the problems that they individually brought to the table. Could they trust each other? Probably not, but they could worry about that once they executed their plan. There was however just one thing wrong with their detailed plan… No plan ever survives contact with the enemy, much less a detailed plan.

  ***

  Chapter 13

  Owen relegated himself back to the lonely (and filthy) responsib
ility of recon. He had seen that Megan and Kelly had wanted to be alone and bringing Swanson over for a party probably wasn’t how they had envisioned their evening concluding. Besides, now that he had the information that he had hoped to obtain, he didn’t need to bypass the alarm and attempt entry. Owen was sure that doing recon at Southern Florida Import and Export was bound to turn out to be more like a Boy Scout camping trip than any real professional surveillance. Sure, Deluca’s crew would show up at some point but it would be so late that they were bound to head out someplace else where they could sleep or party or do whatever it is that those types do at that hour of the morning.

  The genius of the deal that had been struck with Swanson was that the congressman didn’t have to get his hands dirty. Well, that is if the plan actually worked. Plus, he wouldn’t have to be involved at all (plausible deniability) unless Kelly’s group came through first and showed their worth. Once they had done what they had agreed to do then the congressman could decide whether or not to follow through on his end of the deal. Kelly made a mental note that he needed to figure out a form of insurance in case Swanson decided to renege on his end of the agreement. Kelly had an idea that would help him send the congressman a loud and clear message if the need ever arose.