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

by Nate Hawk

  “You can pick your friends but not your family,” she said.

  “Well, I don’t have either!” Quinn said. Now shut up and let’s get moving!”

  They walked out of the suite and stomped down the steps. The owner of the B&B looked quite surprised to see Megan with a third man now. Is this woman turning tricks up there in the turret suite or what? she thought to herself. I hadn’t even seen that man go upstairs! I’m going to have to talk to her about some added service charges. This is getting out of hand, now. Megan and Quinn walked through the front door without a word. They went west on Eaton towards Duval. Megan led the way with Quinn carefully following a few steps behind.

  “Deal is this. You keep your mouth shut or I put a bullet in your head right now. Try to run… same result. Be really good and you’ll live a little longer. Surprise me with loyalty and you may just survive this,” he lied. “Capiche?”

  Megan just nodded her head and tried to look scared. In fact, the feat wasn’t too difficult to accomplish because she was scared. There were several moving parts. Quinn hadn’t considered it but he wasn’t on his turf any more. He was deep inside the Key West network that was not his own and he was by himself. They turned north on Duval Street and walked several more blocks before turning west on Greene Street and making a quick jog north again on Fitzpatrick Street.

  “Do I look like I need a tour of this damn island? You better show me something promising here real quick… “

  “It’s right up here,” Megan assured. “Hog’s Breath Saloon… they’ll be here anytime,” she said.

  The building was a clapboard structure that was open to Front Street as they entered. There was a corrugated metal roof that provided relief from the heat and rain water that was so common on the island. Fortunately, that day there weren’t any real elements to hide from; other than the unsavory criminal variety. The bar had been built onto several times and had a segmented feeling. Some areas had an open roof and there were trees built in and around the bar. Some groups of people were clearly tourists but there was an authenticity of dirt and grit with others. Megan’s intelligent eyes searched around as she looked for the correct demographic of the men she hoped would be there. Then she turned to Quinn.

  “Look, they’re not here yet. I’ve gotta use the ladies room badly. Can I have a minute?”

  “I look like a fucking idiot to you? Think I’d fall for that old trick?”

  “I’ve really got to go. If you’ve gotta stand outside the door or something, that’s ok. Please?” she said hoping the man would have an ounce of mercy.

  “Ok, but make it quick.”

  They made their way past the bar and through the warren of tables and chairs and hallways. There was even some alter for discarded bras that Quinn found himself shaking his head at. What is it with this island? he thought to himself. They located the ladies’ room and Megan gave an I’ll-be-right-back look. Quinn shook his head.

  “Hell no,” he said. “I’m going in too!”

  “But… I can’t…”

  “We’re gonna go in there and get this done or we’re going to go back towards the bar and find a seat. Either one but we’re gonna do it right now. Now hurry the hell up!”

  Megan opened the door with reluctance and entered. She watched Rick come in behind her and throw the deadbolt lock home. The quietness of the room told her that they were alone.

  “Hurry up, Goddamn it!”

  Megan went over to the stalls. The doors had been removed, probably sometime in the 80’s in an effort to cut down on cocaine usage in the building. She shuddered at the thought of peeing with absolutely no privacy while locked into a room with Rick Quinn. She was a strong woman though and she needed him to relax just a little bit. Against her better judgment and secretly hoping he wasn’t some kind of pervert, she completed her business.

  At the sound of the stream of pee, Quinn let out a humiliating, “That’s a good girl!”

  As she was peeing she quickly removed her bra and pulled it out of her shirt. She looked down at the stained floor with years of dirt build up and residue in the tile grout. She tossed her bra into a heap and then came out with her head kind of hung low in embarrassment. She washed her hands and grabbed for a towel to dry them. Rick Quinn had relaxed and had tilted his head backwards in front of a mirror in an effort to pull a stray nose hair out. As Megan prepared to toss the towel in the trashcan, she instead quickly grabbed the metal lid and swung it with all of her force on the back on Quinn’s tilted head. When Quinn saw the flash of movement out of the peripheral of his vision, his last thought was, look at those knockers move. I wonder why she doesn’t have a bra on! He let out a shriek of pain as Megan hit him again and again. His hands had come up in defense but her rage was multitudes more intense than the shocked man was capable of repelling. She smashed him over and over until he had no more fight.

  Then she thought of Kelly and Owen and what a threat this man and his team had been. He had tried to take everything from Owen. He was responsible for Owen’s partner’s death. Nothing could bring back Angelo but she could stop Quinn from any other needless killing. She hit him some more. When she was done he was so bloody and swollen that nobody at the agency would have even recognized him. She quickly reached into his pockets and removed his money, ID and pistol which found a new home in her purse. She pulled his body into the farthest stall, where she had come out of, in an effort to momentarily conceal him. She wrapped the bra around his hand as if he was attempting to use it as a ligature. She thought he might be breathing still but he lacked the color of life and sure looked like he was on his way out. Then she wiped the blood off of her face and prepared herself to go win a Grammy. She exited the bathroom and hurried over to the bar where she had seen the roughest group of bikers. She interrupted two men in vests that had the name tags Bones and Shifter.

  “My God,” she cried. “I need help! He’s a pervert… attacked me over there…”

  “Slow down, baby,” Shifter said. “Take a breath and tell us what happened sweetheart and we’ll take care of it.”

  “Oh it was awful,” she wailed. “I went to use the bathroom… and some pervert attacked me! He said he wanted my clothes! I think he is the sick bastard that the police have been looking for. You know that guy that steals ladies underwear… My God, I could’ve been killed!”

  She cried out in terror and shock. At this point Shifter had heard enough. He stood up with a real stern look and puffed up his chest with the determination of a looming bar fight. He might be a drinker (or a drunk) and a biker, but he was a man of honor after all.

  “Nobody does this in Key West and gets away with it! Which way did this asshole go, baby?”

  “Oh, he’s in the women’s restroom. I think… I think I may have hurt him.”

  “I hope you did, baby. We’re gonna go in there and take care of this guy. He’s never gonna hurt you again. He’s never going to hurt anybody again… You understand?”

  Megan shook her head as Shifter pulled her close in consolation. Megan was a delightfully cute woman to be sure but Shifter wasn’t interested in taking advantage of her. He was more interested in inflating his ego as much as he could.

  “Don’t worry, baby. It’s over now. My name’s Shifter. You ever need anything you can find me here at the Hog. You want somebody to walk you home while we take care of that piece of shit?

  “No… No… I think I can manage. Thank you so much for helping me out,” she said as she pretended to wipe fake tears from her face.

  “I’ve got a wife,” Shifter said. “And a daughter. It’s the least I could do.”

  Megan gave the big man a hug and touched his cheek in appreciation. “Thank you.”

  “I work in sanitation for the City of Key West. I’m used to taking out the trash. You stay safe out there baby. And please… don’t ever mention this to anybody.”

  Megan had the same thought. She nodded her head and walked towards the door. She began to raise her head in an attempt
to shake off the dirty feeling that the last half an hour had left on her. She knew that she’d successfully done her part. She just hoped that Kelly and Owen weren’t in over their heads. Not quite out of earshot she heard Shifter tell Bones to go get one of those plastic trash bins with the wheels while he went and temporarily closed down the woman’s restroom for cleaning.

  ***

  Chapter 20

  Congressman Swanson knew he couldn’t come to Key West that time of the year without playing a round of golf. So he’d gotten out that day and soaked up the sun while didling around on the back nine at the Key West Golf Club. The course was what it was: not exactly a private five star course. It certainly was not up to the high standards that Swanson had grown used to. And the nature as it was called… there were Warblers, Ospreys, Herons, Iguanas, Egrets and Comorans. Damn it, he wasn’t on a wildlife shoot he just wanted to play some golf. Surely they could hire someone to keep those critters away!

  Swanson reflected back on the conversation that he’d had the night before. It was almost too much. He couldn’t believe that his three new friends had promised to take care of the blackmail issue and they hadn’t even pressed him to know what the secret was! He was secretly disappointed that there didn’t seem to be a need to create fictitious filler to distract these three from the truth. Next to golf, making things up was one of Swanson’s most revered activities. Maybe if Quinn was killed then the real secret could go back to the grave and stay there. Maybe, just maybe, Swanson wouldn’t have to look over his shoulder the rest of his life wondering who knew and when his political career might end. But he had to admit that he was getting nervous. He and Reilly had expected to hear from the bulging black man by now. Had the entire plan gone to shit? The congressman found himself beginning to second-guess their arrangement. He didn’t know the black man who’d gotten the drop on him or the white guy or the red-headed woman for that matter. Then he’d heard the police helicopter action the night before as they ran a grid search-pattern across Key West in search of the naked man known as the Key West Pervert. Swanson hadn’t thought that there was any likelihood of those events being related to his problems. But… then there had been an explosion that morning over in Garrison Bight. There couldn’t be that many criminal elements suddenly descending upon the peace and tranquility of Key West.

  “Riley, have the driver pull the Lincoln around. We need to get out of this shit-storm before someone figures out a sitting US Congressman is down here and might just be involved.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m on it,” he promised with fresh energy in his step.

  “Oh, and Riley?”

  “Yes, sir?” he said as he glanced back over his shoulders.

  “Bring me one of those Klondike ice cream bars, would ya? In fact, make it two!”

  ***

  “Gentleman, everybody’s gonna be real cool,” Kelly said as he leveled the FAL rifle towards Basciano. He knew he didn’t want to start a new war front with the Miami mob. “Every once in a while a big misunderstanding comes along that requires the collective energy of a group of friends. Friends!” he repeated with emphasis. “That’s what we are gonna be moving forward, gentlemen… we’re gonna be friends! So put your pistols back in your holsters and keep your hands where I can see ‘em until we get better acquainted.”

  Basciano sized up the intense man before him, his short-barreled rifle and the changing geo-political dynamic within the room.

  “Do as he says, boys. If he was gonna fug’n shoot us then he’d already a done it!”

  Owen crawled out of the area where he had found temporary shelter and he rejoined the fray. The gangsters had reluctantly done as they had been instructed to do. The stink and bloody mess within the warehouse was beginning to attract a variety of tropical insects. Although the men were beginning to get used to the smell it still hung heavy in their noses. Kelly figured he would need to take a wire brush to get the awful stench from his nose but his thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of his throw away phone. He flipped it open to reveal a simply worded text from Megan: It’s done. He quickly sent her one back: Good work. Still working here. Then he slid his phone back into his pocket.

  “Gentlemen, gather around,” he said as he lowered his rifle and let it hang in front of him on its sling. “I think we have enough overlapping interest to work together and come out of this ok. First, it looks like there’s no love lost in the fact that Southern Florida Import and Export is closing its doors for good…”

  “We’re in agreement there,” Basciano said dryly, irritated that he’d lost the upper hand.

  “Great. Now the CIA is mixed up in this mess somehow,” Kelly said, certainly not wanting to get into details of the blackmail scandal involving the congressman. “We have reason to believe it is a rogue element without the Agency’s backing. Now I doubt anybody here wants to leave loose ends open with a rogue CIA unit…”

  “Still on the same fug’n page.” Basciano said, more attentively this time.

  “Well, I’ve got good news and bad news. I’ll give you the good news first. I can report that the CIA unit’s leader has just been taken care of.” Kelly looked at his present company and decided to add a bit of clarification. “He’s, you might say, swim’n with the fishes.”

  Owen looked at Kelly, surprised that Rick Quinn had been predicable enough to fall into the trap they’d set when they had dropped Megan off. The comment about the ‘fishes’ generated a slight chuckle from Basciano as he reviewed a few memories of his years working with the mob. The powerful underboss began to wonder if maybe these two guys had a bit more acumen then he had previously given them credit for.

  “The bad news,” Kelly continued, “is that he has at least three trained CIA killers on the island looking to clean up loose ends.”

  “On the one hand I’m impressed. But on the other… a CIA kill team? I doubt I have to tell you that’s a real fug’n wild card, kid. Whaddaya suppose we outta fug’n do about that, boy genius?”

  Kelly ignored the insult. “Look we can reel ‘em in. Now they’re not going to go easy so let’s team up here, ambush them and then go our separate ways.”

  “Alright, kid, say we’re interested here. That still leaves us with two problems. The first is how are we gonna reel deez killers in here?”

  “Deluca over there has a phone number in his pocket. We were doing some surveillance and we saw them exchange money and phone numbers.”

  Basciano looked furious. People in my crew were seen accepting money from the Feds? he asked himself. Kelly watched him carefully. He could see the mobster’s eyes moving in thought but it was hard to catch what exactly his angle was. Kelly just wanted to get this job done safely and maybe put together a real life. He had to temporarily fight the thoughts of a domesticated life with Megan that were giving a valiant attempt at dominating his current thoughts. Now that his boat had been blown up he knew it was a great time for a fresh start anyway.

  “I don’t want to know how the fug you got wrapped up in this. Say I believe what you’re saying. Say, on an outside chance… I even believe that we could work together to get these fug’n operators out of our business for good. Even then,” Basciano said. “Even then we still have a big fug’n problem…”

  Kelly asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s not a fug’n mystery! You guys stole over a million bucks from my organization! You really think I’m gonna fug’n let that slide?” he asked with seething anger.

  Kelly didn’t miss a beat. “All due respect sir, remember what I said about being friends? See Owen and me… we were just a couple of friends that were willing to keep an eye on the money after we realized that Deluca and Franco had gone astray. Your money, see? It’s in a safe place and we want to make sure that it gets back to its rightful owner,” he said, secretly saddened at the idea of more than a million dollars cash disappearing right through their fingers.

  Basciano sized Kelly up again. This kid was a smooth talker too. Basciano wondered if Kel
ly was as good under gunfire as he was under verbal fire.

  “There’s one other thing,” Kelly said with a slight reluctance. “When this is over my friend here is going to need a new life. Once we get the CIA “disappeared” and we get your money back to you… Will you have Russo give Owen here a new ID? He’ll need his previous ID washed from the system, you know the drill.”

  “That’s an awful fug’n bold request of ya, kid!”

  Kelly stood his ground. He knew Owen Tucker was coming out of this adventure smelling like shit and they both knew he needed a fresh identity.

  “Russo, take this man out to your van and do what you do,” Basciano said as he pointed to Owen.

  Kelly and Owen looked at each other. They didn’t think it was some kind of trick because everyone present knew Kelly could drop Basciano faster than he or his men could get Kelly. Owen somewhat hesitantly ducked under the door as he left the warehouse and followed Russo to the awaiting van. Russo opened the rear doors and produced a high tech camera. After slipping the camera’s sling over his neck he pulled down a soft blue background at the rear of the van. Due to Owen’s stature and height, Russo asked him to be seated on a small stool so that his head was centered in the middle of the blue. Russo cleaned some dirt and scuffs off of Owen’s face before pulling out a small awning to get the lighting right. Just like that a passport quality photo was taken. Russo took some quick notes regarding the details that Owen had requested become his new life. The two shook hands, disaster seemingly avoided as an agreement had been struck.