by Nate Hawk
***
Chapter 15
Shifter and Bones were sitting at the Hog’s Breath Saloon contemplating the meaning of life. Dinner had long past concluded and had turned into an evening of drinking. What had started as a recreational activity had turned into careless abandonment of socially acceptable behavior, one sip at a time. The only thing flowing quicker than the drinks was the foul language from the men’s mouths. The bartender was worried that he was going to have to cut these two customers off pretty soon if they didn’t divert a small amount of their attention towards keeping themselves upright and out of a drunken conflict.
Then the open-air bar was filled with flashing lights and the loud wails from a siren as a police cruiser made its way past the bar on Front Street. Normally flashing lights or a siren wouldn’t garner much more than an initial glance but it was clear that there was some urgency on the part of the officer. Bones looked towards Shifter in concern with eyes as big as silver dollars as if to say, somebody’s night isn’t going well. The men erupted in laughter as they made a valiant effort not to fall backwards off of their bar stools and onto the floor.
Suddenly the area around the building was lit up with a spotlight and the deafening roar of an overhead helicopter.
“Bones… I think we better walk back tonight,” Shifter said realizing that he was drunker than he had been in some time. “You know… with the police and all,” he clarified in an effort to save face. It wasn’t like he couldn’t drive his motorcycle.
“Whatever you think, boss!”
The spotlight continued moving back and forth and occasionally maneuvered back in sight of the bar patrons. Then another cruiser screamed by in a race to destinations unknown. After a couple more minutes of an overhead assault on the peace of the night, the chopper navigated further east.
“Hey barkeep! How about turning on the news?” Shifter asked, curious as to what was really going on.
“You got it!” the man said, hoping that the two drunkards would clear their mind up some if they had something to focus on.
He gladly turned the closest TV on to local channel WEYW 19. Immediately, Shifter and Bones noticed the title BREAKING NEWS and the subtitle The Search For The Key West Pervert. They watched on with a vivid interest as a news babe interviewed a local victim.
Shifter said, “You know… we just can’t allow this kind of trash to run around in our city.”
“No, you’re right! Let’s go find this asshole!”
Much to the pleasure of the bartender, the two men paid their bill and exited out into the breezy night air. They weren’t going to sit around while the women of their city cowered in fear. By God they were going to catch the son-of-a-bitch!
***
Sometime after the conversation (and laughter) had died down, Megan and Kelly climbed the curved staircase up to the turret room where they spent the night. They wanted to give Owen a little space and well, quite honestly, they wanted some space to themselves. They got a few hours of restless sleep but with each other at their sides, every minute was enjoyable. It was better that Kelly didn’t get in too deep of a sleep in case he started snoring. He’d save that annoying part of his nightly ritual for Megan to discover another time.
They woke up when the first rays of the morning sunshine began to bayonet through the cracks of the blinds. Megan tossed a bit and rolled over a half turn. Kelly, warmed from their mutual body heat, rolled the other way for some cooling relief. His arm had fallen asleep under Megan’s head about three hours prior but he didn’t dare move it lest he wake her up. He knew moments like this one were rare and he wanted to savor every second that he could. More than anybody, he knew these moments could disappear in the blink of an eye.
As they were tossing around upstairs, Owen began his morning routine below. He let out a fart to clear the morning pressure in his bowels and climbed out of bed. Megan pretended not to hear it but Kelly couldn’t help but snicker. He felt like making an Army joke but instead, he thought back to his own experience in Marines and enjoyed another snicker. Owen made it over to the bathroom and took a shower. Megan and Kelly gave each other a morning kiss and descended the staircase, hand in hand. They enjoyed their newly displayed closeness to its fullest. They knew today would be incredibly dangerous and neither one of them had a guarantee that they would survive.
The three of them took turns getting ready in the bathroom. It felt crowded because, well, it was. They knew they could have gotten separate rooms but they had previously decided that it was safer to stay together. The Artist House B&B had prepared a fine breakfast that was much appreciated by everyone present. There were other guests and there was some idle chit chat about who they were and what they were doing in Key West. Kelly and Owen mentioned that they were consultants but didn’t spend any effort elaborating. An older couple mentioned how nice it was of Kelly to bring his wife along on a business trip. That created a momentary smile between the two of them that ended in them both trying to hold back their laughter.
The three of them went back to their room to grab a few items and to review the next step of the plan. They knew there were a lot of variables but they still believed it was the best way to proceed. Satisfied, they walked out the front door, down the wooden steps and through the light-purple-painted wrought iron fence, off to the first day of the rest of their lives. Or the last day.
They motored the electric Gem car back to the rental business and dropped it off. They knew they didn’t need it anymore. Everything was about to change. They walked back in the direction of Garrison Bight, on towards Kelly’s boat. Knowing the area well from the night before, they walked the old streets and enjoyed the unique character of the architecture and landscaping. They were sure to stay off of Merle Jenkins’s street, lest she notice Kelly and the pursuit to bring him to justice begin again.
As they neared North Roosevelt Boulevard they spotted the dock where Kelly’s boat was kept. There was an out-of-the-way bus stop where they could sit unnoticed with both a view of the boat and a view of the parking lot where the CIA team had previously stationed themselves. Their black Ford Excursion was not currently present but a similar black SUV was. It appeared to have been temporarily abandoned as nobody was inside.
***
Chapter 16
Luigi Basciano knew the crime game well because he’d worked his way up from the mean streets of Miami one step at a time. He’d started as a foot soldier and continued at his craft until he had obtained his current position of underboss. He had seen the game spun (and done some spinning himself) from every angle so he knew the signs to look for. He was no dummy and he knew when one of his suppliers was having problems. He also knew when they were lying about it. If the big boss upstairs (the Don) caught wind of weakness on Basciano’s part, he’d be fitted for a pair of concrete shackles and tossed into the ocean himself. Seeing Franco West busted up the night before at the warehouse added to the frustration of the shipping delays and deflective type comments that were becoming all to common on Deluca’s part. Something deep inside of Basciano just wouldn’t allow him to let it go. Basciano had no doubt that he had read the signs correctly so he figured that it was in his organization’s best interest to take a trip down to the island himself to see exactly what the hell was going on.
Basciano arrived at the Southern Florida Import and Export warehouse fairly early given that he’d had a four-hour drive in his Cadillac. As usual, he had a driver but he packed the car with two additional foot soldiers for good measure. Goddamn that Deluca! For once in his life the underboss hoped that he was going to spend a wasted trip to Key West, after seeing that he was imagining things and there was not actually any problems at the warehouse facility. Basciano had heard rumors from one of his sources and he knew if he got down to the business and picked up on any bullshit that it was going to be a day of new beginnings. Those two brothers were going to begin their afterlives.
As Basciano’s caddy pulled up in front of the import business he was s
hocked to see the gate to the loading area standing wide open. Worse yet, there were no bikers around and absolutely no sign of any perimeter security. Or any signs of any human activity for that matter. Basciano wondered if this was how Deluca was running his business these days. Is this the man’s idea of a well oiled operation? Loading gate wide open for the world to come in and snoop around. Fug’n eh! This is a real disappointment, he thought. Deluca continued reminding himself that if the big boss got wind of this cluster fuck that he would be the one paying the dues himself.
Basciano and the two foot soldiers approached the main entrance and pulled at the knob. There were two expensive European sedans parked out front but there was no sign of a secretary being present. How were the two brothers keeping their business organized without a secretary? The secretary is the least of my concerns right now, Basciano sighed as he walked around to the closed loading doors. He reluctantly gave one of the doors a tug and with genuine surprise written on the mobster’s face, it opened.
Basciano stepped in and had a brief glance around the warehouse as his eyes adjusted to the long shadows inside. Then he heard a soft rustle that sounded like tape rubbing on cement. He even thought he had heard a muffled plea for help in there too but he couldn’t be sure. Basciano drew his pistol and gave the sign for his two foot soldiers to follow him. They in turn drew their weapons and began searching the building for the origin of the commotion. Within seconds they located the brothers. Deluca had dried blood on the side of his head from where Owen had struck him. When Deluca saw that the underboss was towering over him his heart seemed to go into cardiac arrest for a few moments while he attempted to summon a believable explanation for all of this. He knew he couldn’t mention that his troubles had started after his crew had been caught taunting a cripple and had gotten their asses kicked for it. Deluca had to admit that that entire situation was about as petty as anything he could remember. Basciano ripped the tape off of Deluca’s mouth.
“Lou! You disappoint me. Whaddafug is going on here? I don’t wanna hear any more a dat bullshit come’n outta your mouth, either.”
“Boss! This isn’t what it looks like. Some group… says they’re with the CIA! They came in here and did this!”
“The CIA! You son-of-a-bitch,” Basciano raged! “If yous gonna lie to me at least be more fug’n creative than that! The fug’n CIA…” he said, shaking his head in anger, as he smacked the restrained Deluca across the face.
Deluca quickly recovered. “Honest to God, sir! One of ‘em jumped us and stole the one point two mil,” he said. “They’ve been looking for some guy down at the dock,” he explained. “Franco’s been out cold all night. Will you cut me lose so I can help him? He looks pretty bad.”
“Your story’s not adding up, Lou… I told you about lying to me,” he said as he pointed his pistol towards the bound man.
Just then the high-pitched rev of a motorcycle’s engine could be heard coming into the lot. Crushed coral popped and cracked under its tires as the bike and driver circled around purposefully. The rider finally parked the machine in the shade of a mangrove tree and then switched the engine off. As soon as the first noise seemed to dissipate, more bikes could be heard entering the lot. They went through the same ritual as they circled and parked against the fence, now pointed towards the road. The men gave each other some fist bumps as conversation and occasional laughter made its way into the open warehouse door. Then one of the enormous riders finally noticed the black Cadillac that was parked next to the building. They knew it had to be the underboss’ caddy but they didn’t understand why he had suddenly decided to drive down to Key West unannounced. They had just seen him hours before. They knew this wasn’t a good sign.
The laughter and conversation died down as the men made their way to the warehouse. One of the armed foot soldiers stood in the doorway of the open bay door. The sun struck his suit from the waist down but the rest of his body was in the shade cast from the roof of the building. He arrogantly eye-balled the oncoming men as if to warn them of the trouble they were in. The large men’s actions varied some but they nodded or moved their eyes in acknowledgement of his presence.
“Hey, lookie what we have here boys,” Basciano said sarcastically as he sized up the gathering crew.
“Hey, hey! We’ve got no beef!” one of the men said thinking that Basciano had tied-up and beat Deluca and Franco himself. He put his hands up in the air and took a step back as if to put distance between them. “We can give you guys some privacy and just…”
“Get in here and shut your fug’n pie hole! While you were out getting your beauty sleep these two clowns were robbed and beaten.” Then Basciano turned to Lou. “I’ve had enough of the lies, Lou,” he said as he dispatched a nine-millimeter bullet through the man’s forehead.
Blood spattered and misted as Deluca’s head went limp and rolled over on his shoulder. Blood and bits of severed brain matter began oozing out of the wound as Deluca’s eyes stared straight ahead, his last moment of terror etched into his facial expression. The bikers jumped at the noise of the pistol as they realized that the old rules no longer applied to the new game. But what was the game? There were five beefy men staring at Basciano wondering which one of them would be next. They looked towards the open door, their only means of possible escape. Now both of the foot soldiers stood there with guns drawn and smiles on their face. Their facial expression dared the five men to try and make a break for it.
“Tired of the goddamn lies,” Basciano said as he walked over to the unconscious Franco and popped him in the head with a fresh round. Where Deluca had met death instantly, Franco’s body did a brief spasm as his body attempted a final grasp towards understanding what had happened. Basciano put two more shells into the man’s face leaving him unrecognizable.
“I knew these two were worthless! The only thing they were good at was bringing attention to my outfit,” the underboss said angrily.
Then he turned to the nervous bikers and inquired, “What’s this horseshit about the CIA and surveillance at the marina? If law enforcement was coming in here it would be the FBI and it sure wouldn’t be a one man robbery.”
The hulking men looked at each other and nearly shrugged. Although none of them were critical thinkers, they all knew they couldn’t possibly bring up the stranger that they had gotten in a pissing match with. And the CIA? This was the first they’d heard about anyone calling themselves the CIA.
“Speak up!” Basciano roared. “Or I continue shooting!”
The smartest one of the five spoke up. “Sir, we don’t know anything about the CIA. Yesterday some guys came in here looking for a man. They showed us the picture… turns out it was a guy we’d seen down at the docks. So that’s what we told them and they left. That’s it,” the man said smartly leaving out any word about the two thousand bucks they’d been given or the ego war they had going with Kelly.
Basciano looked towards the two dead brothers that he had done business with for the last several years. “CIA,” he said as he spit at Deluca’s body. “I knew that was a fug’n load of horseshit! Let’s get da fug down to da dock and find those assholes!”
***
Chapter 17
Seeing that the black Ford Excursion was no longer in the parking lot and that there was no sign of the bikers keeping an eye on Kelly’s boat, he knew that he needed to get positioned before they showed up. Megan and Owen stayed seated at the bus stop with their sunglasses and sun hats shielding them from the sun and doubling as a partial disguise. Kelly casually walked over to North Roosevelt Boulevard as he had the night before. He was easily able to cross the eastbound lanes of traffic before having to pause momentarily for the westbound traffic. After making a quick dash through the hurriedly moving traffic, he was back to walking westbound along the seawall towards Garrison Bight Causeway.
Kelly approached the underbrush that marked the entrance to his boat ramp where he located a bench and sat down, relieved that he was apparently still the one
holding the element of surprise. He had taken a paper with him that he had been given at the B&B and began looking through it to kill some time. He hadn’t read a paper in as long as he could remember and the entire experience had become foreign to him. With some tongue in cheek amusement he read about the pervert that had broken into a vehicle the night before in search of women’s clothing to satisfy his urges. He saw that police were concerned that the man’s action might indicate that he was growing more deviant in his sexual desires. The newspaper argued that the man had probably started as a voyeur or a peeping-Tom. As his sexual desires had metastasized, his satisfaction now apparently advanced to the petty theft of women’s clothing. What was next? Perhaps his deviant behavior would ultimately lead to sexual assault, they suggested. With relief, Kelly could see that the journalist didn’t really care about the facts. He figured the only thing they cared about was selling stories. If they didn’t know the details of what had actually happened then they apparently had no problem making them up. It was just fine with Kelly if they were looking for someone that didn’t fit his profile. Kelly just laughed out loud to himself and turned the page.
