Cole was silent for a moment, taking a long sip from his Dos Equis, before asking the fateful question, “So when do we leave?”
Tony laughed and replied, “We leave tonight, but you will leave tomorrow morning. We’ll see you again once you’re down there.”
g
After parting ways at El Siboney, Cole walked the streets of Key West by himself for the better part of the evening. Cole knew there was a chance it would be his last night on the town. It occurred to him to drink his face off one last time, but over the past two weeks Cole had lost much of the urge to do so. Instead, he meandered down to the boardwalk and then over to Mallory Square one last time. Looking out at Sunset Key and further north to Wisteria Island, Cole smiled as he remembered his first days off of Delaney and how he’d stood in the same spot, wondering what the future held in store for him.
g
Waking early the next morning, Cole went out for the run he’d gone on so many times before. He made it over to the airport and ran hard until his lungs were close to giving out. By mid-morning, he was showered and cleaned up, ready for the flight to Panama City. He wore his boots with a faded pair of jeans, figuring that he would do well to look the part. He had a small bag with him and carried little more than one spare change of clothes. There was no telling what was in store for him beyond a day anyhow.
At the airport, Cole remembered his last flight to Panama, and how he’d almost turned the whole thing off in the same terminal he stood in now. By the time Cole boarded the small commuter jet and the plane had climbed out over the Keys, he’d run the full gamut of emotions, realizing that his life would be far different had he listened to Mickey’s advice. At the same time, he never would have met Isabella. His time in Martinique had made so much of the past year’s troubles worth something. She gave his life some meaning.
With another connection in Dallas, Cole settled into his seat as the plane climbed up and flew south towards Panama City. He managed to sleep for most of the flight. It was late afternoon when the plane touched down, and as he walked through the familiar terminal to the line of cabs outside, Cole stopped briefly at an ATM and withdrew 500 dollars. Once outside, he dialed Tony.
Picking up quickly, Tony asked, “Everything good?”
Cole replied, “Yeah, I’m on my way to Habanas. I’ll call David in a few minutes.”
“Sounds good, Cole.” Tony sounded calm. “We’re all set on this end. If things get out of control, lock both your hands together behind your head like you’re stretching. Otherwise, just keep David there and wait for us to move on him.”
“Got it. See you in a bit.”
Signaling for a cab, Cole sat in the back and called out to the driver, “Habanas.”
The driver laughed and grinned, looking at Cole through the rear-view mirrors. “Si, many pretty ladies, mi amigo.”
Cole couldn’t help but smile. He wondered once more about Maria. By now, she was most certainly back in Colombia.
The driver once again grinned at Cole, saying, “Las chicas.”
Cole took a deep breath and nodded, repeating the driver’s words, “Si, las chicas.”
Cole dialed David as the cab drove west towards downtown. David answered, “Cole, how the hell are you, my friend. Are you in town?”
“Yeah, driving into town now. I’ll be at Habanas in an hour or so.”
“Great, great. I’m running around at the moment, but I’ll meet you there in a bit. Grab a drink and enjoy Panama. You’ve been away for too long.”
Cole laughed into the phone to feign being calm, and replied, “No problem. I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, he ended the call.
g
In less than an hour, the cab pulled up to Habanas and Cole stepped out onto the familiar street. He paid the driver and walked over into the lobby of the Marriott. Once inside, he withdrew another 500 dollars from an ATM, and then walked across the street to Habanas with almost 1,000 dollars in his pocket.
Just after sunset, not late enough for the real party to start, Cole took a beer from the bar and made his way to some of the plastic seats at the front of the club. The lights danced around the walls and ceiling and a few girls had already taken up their spots for the night. Music pulsed from the speakers, some older men sat and smoked cigars, but for the most part the bar was still calm. Taking his first sip, he looked around to see if there were any familiar faces. There were none, but he made eye contact with no less than six stunning women. One of them came up to him—just like they always did—and sat in his lap. With one hand on her thigh, Cole made small talk with the girl and nursed his beer.
After a few minutes, he leaned into her ear and whispered, “Pistola?” He had to find a handgun somewhere in this godforsaken place.
She looked at him with a funny look for a moment then shook her head, stood up, and walked away. Damn it, Cole thought. He was ready to fight for the right side of the law, but there was no one around that Cole knew or trusted, and a pistol would make him much more comfortable. He couldn’t see anyone at the bar that resembled the guys Tony had mentioned. After only a few minutes by himself, Cole felt vulnerable.
Just as he was beginning to second-guess the entire plan, a second girl approached and sat in Cole’s lap. She was a bit older than the first and not quite as pretty, but she leaned in to Cole’s ear and whispered, “Quieres una pistola?”
Cole grinned and wrapped his left arm around her hips. Yes, he wanted a pistol. “Si.”
The girl looked at him for a second more, then said in broken English, “One thousand dollars.”
“Five hundred dollars and I need it now.”
The girl looked away for a moment, thought, then looked back at Cole. “Seven hundred and fifty, mi amor.”
“Deal,” was all Cole said to acknowledge her. He handed her the bills from his pocket and she tucked them away discretely in her purse.
She kissed him on the cheek then disappeared. Cole shook his head at his predicament. Here he was, once again more or less trusting his life to a hooker. In all likelihood, she would hold up her end of the bargain. After all his dealings in Panama, the women of the night had proven themselves more reliable and trustworthy than most of Panama’s more upstanding citizens. Cole let out a half-smile and took a long sip from his beer. There was no turning back.
g
Almost an hour passed before Cole saw David approach Habanas from the street. With him were four other men, none of which Cole recognized. David’s partners broke off once they walked up the steps to the bar and David approached Cole by himself.
Cole stood up and shook hands with David, saying, “Wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
David dismissed it and shook his head, “Don’t say such things, Cole. How have you been?”
The two sat down. “It’s been a rough stretch, to be honest. I damn near lost everything on that run from Martinique.”
David nodded. “Yes, my friend. That was a tough spot you were in, but by all accounts you did well. Did the Americans get anything out of you?”
“No, I burned the boat. The other guy I was with died, but the boat sank with the drugs and they had nothing on me, so here I am.”
David was silent for a moment. “Yes, and here you are.”
There was an awkward silence. Cole looked around to see that David’s partners were by the bar, but all looking directly back at Cole. Again, there was no one in the immediate vicinity that looked like Tony’s guys. Cole felt his heart beating in his chest. He swallowed to bury the lump in his throat. Control yourself, Cole repeated in his head several times.
David asked, “You’re looking around like you are uncomfortable? You are with friends, Cole. Relax. We are just talking business.”
Cole nodded and finished his beer. David motioned with two fingers to one of his guys, who brought two more Dos Equis over from the bar. Cole and David tapped bottles and both took long sips before setting them down on the plastic t
able.
David continued, “So, you are looking to get back into the business?”
“Yeah, not much else I can do these days.”
David nodded. As he did, the prostitute reappeared from the street and walked over to Cole, again sitting in his lap. David laughed and leaned back in his chair.
“You’ve missed Panama that much, Cole?”
The girl set her purse down beside Cole’s right foot and kissed him again on the cheek, then leaned her head against Cole’s and smiled at David.
David laughed even louder and took another sip from his beer.
In Spanish, he said something to the girl and motioned for her to go away with his hand. She pulled herself close against Cole and made a kissing motion with her mouth to Cole’s cheek, before standing up and walking back into the crowd. Cole took a long whiff of her perfume as she stood up, having missed the smell of a woman over the past few weeks. At Cole’s right foot, he felt her purse against his leg. Taking a sip from his beer, he looked down and saw the worn wooden grip of a revolver in the purse. He was now back on solid ground.
David spoke up. “Cole, you’ve got a lot of guts to come back down here. I think I can find something for you, but maybe we should go somewhere else to discuss it.”
Cole asked, “What do you have in mind?”
“Nothing to be concerned about, but we should go somewhere a bit more quiet.” With that, he motioned with one finger to his men, who spread out among the bar and formed a loose circle around Cole and David.
“What the fuck is this, David?”
David was still calm and sitting back against his chair. “Cole, let’s not do this here, at a place of business. Let’s go for a drive and we can talk.”
Cole’s stomach was in knots. A drive with David and his goons meant one thing and Cole wasn’t going to die that way. He grit his teeth and took a deep breath, staring directly at David. “I don’t think so, David. I like it right here.”
“You don’t have a choice, my friend.”
Cole reached up and put both his hands behind his head, locking his fingers together, and leaned back in the chair.
Nothing.
After a moment or two, Cole looked around and there was no change in his surroundings. Cole thought, Where the fuck is Tony?
David looked at Cole for a moment, then asked, “What are you doing, Cole? You are acting strange.”
Cole took a deep breath and replied, “Nothing. Just getting comfortable.”
As he let his arms drop back down, Cole leaned forward and reached slowly with his right hand for the purse. By that point, David was on to him and had reached behind his back, pulling out a handgun and slamming it down on the table, its muzzle pointed at Cole. Both beers fell over and spilled out onto the floor as the bottles rolled off one side. David hid most of the gun with the palm of his hand, but he clearly meant to send a threat.
“Don’t be dumb, Cole. Not here.” David was now all business. Cole had not seen this expression from David before. It was time to act.
Two of David’s men approached the table and as they closed in, Cole’s instincts took over. He dove to the side of the table, pulling the revolver from the girl’s purse as he fell to his side. Now laying on the concrete floor, he could see David’s legs moving to stand up, and Cole wasted no time firing a shot through the table and into David’s torso. With that, David fell back down against his chair and then onto the ground, landing on his butt. Still holding his gun and sitting upright, David’s eyes were big and a look of disbelief spread across his face as he strained to take a breath. Cole steadied the revolver with both his hands and focused once more on David’s chest.
In an instant, David pointed his gun at Cole and the two of them opened fire at the same time from less than four feet away. The muzzle blast from both guns blinded Cole for a second. Cole then tried to breathe and felt an immense burning pain from the left side of his rib cage. David, by that point, was slumped over on the ground, and Cole opened his mouth to take a labored breath. As Cole scanned for David’s goons and readied himself as best he could for the impending shootout, a volley of fire opened up at the bar.
There were screams and from his prone position, Cole watched drinks spill to the floor and feet running back and forth. More fire erupted from all directions. Holding his pistol in his right hand, Cole covered his face his with left arm and curled up to get as small as he could in the middle of the firefight. It was only seconds, but it seemed much longer before the gunfire stopped. Cole looked back at David and could see that he was dead. Cole’s second shot had been a good one as dark blood pooled under David and slowly spread out onto the concrete. Across the bar, three more of David’s men were on the floor as well. Cole’s ears were ringing, but he could hear American voices as two men ran up the steps and onto the dance floor.
One of David’s men moved and two more shots rang out as one of the Americans dispatched him for good.
Cole heard an authoritative voice call, “Clear!”
A second voice called out the same, “Clear!”
The music was still thumping in the background, but most of the lights had either been shot out or otherwise knocked out during the scuffle. Cole groaned and crawled toward David with his revolver still in his hand. One of the Americans approached and kicked the plastic table away, holding an MP-5 to Cole’s chest for a second before relaxing and dropping it to his side, where it hung in a single-point sling. He reached down and helped Cole up to his feet.
As he put one of Cole’s arms over his shoulders, he said, “It’s all right, brother. We’re gonna get you out of here.”
Cole dropped the revolver, took one step, and then stopped. “No, hang on.” Cole leaned down to David’s lifeless body and reached into his pocket, pulling out David’s phone. “This is what we came for, right here.”
The American, dressed in nondescript cargo pants, hiking boots, and a polo shirt, nodded and helped Cole back up and over to the steps. Cole could feel that he was weaker now than when he’d been grazed in the shoulder. Each breath was painful and he could only take in a bit of air. At the base of the steps, a third American stood in the street, an MP-5 in his hands and pointed down the road. He too was dressed in plain clothes, but had a serious look about him, ready to fight if the need arose.
Without taking his eyes off the street, the man asked, “We good?”
The other, propping Cole up, replied, “Yeah, we’re good, but where’s the fucking van?”
“On its way,” said the first.
With that, they tucked back a bit against the wall of Habanas. The third American came down the steps with an M4 at his side and his hands full of phones and wallets. He tucked them inside a bag then moved to cover the opposite side of the road. Cole looked back up at the club. David was lifeless and laying on his side where Cole had shot him. Blood now ran down onto the sidewalk. Across the bar, three other bodies were slumped over on the ground and farther up the sidewalk, the fourth one of David’s men laid dead on the street.
Cole’s vision was a partial blur by this point, but he could see that the street and the club were empty. Panama had wisely abandoned Habanas, at least for the time being. Across the street at the hotel, there were no guards at the doors, and Cole wondered if that had been part of the plan to begin with, either on the part of David or Tony.
Just then, a van pulled quickly around the corner and came to a stop in front of Cole and the others. They piled in, pushing Cole into a seat by himself and propped him up against a window. Behind him sat Tony with genuine concern on his face. One of the men jumped in the passenger seat, another sat in front of Cole, and the third took a seat by his side.
Tony asked the one next to Cole, “How is he?”
The man replied, “He’ll live if we move quickly, but we’re gonna need the helo. He needs the ship.” The man was already pressing a bandage against Cole’s chest and wrapped it around to Cole’s back.
&nbs
p; Tony nodded and took out a phone. Dialing quickly, he held it up to his ear and yelled, “Plan B, get the sixty to the soccer field. All personnel accounted for, one with a gunshot. Have the medics ready.” Tony put the phone away and the van was already speeding through some side streets.
Tony patted Cole on the shoulder and left his hand there for moment, reassuring Cole, “You’ll be all right, Cole. Just a little bit longer.”
Cole clenched his teeth and nodded, pulling David’s phone up to his face and flipping it open. He pushed the send button and the call log popped up. There were a slew of numbers and none seemed any more remarkable than the others. One, reading ‘unknown,’ caught Cole’s attention, and he showed it to Tony.
Tony nodded and smiled, saying, “Go for it.”
Cole pushed send a second time and the phone rang. As the van sped around a corner and steadied on a main road, Cole held the phone up to his ear and listened. After a few more rings, a man answered on the other end.
“David, what the fuck is going on down there? Did you shoot him?”
He had a thick Hispanic accent. Cole waited, saying nothing.
After a pause, the man asked again, “David, tell me that you finished it?”
Cole recognized the voice. “Mickey?” Cole asked.
“Who the fuck is this?” It was most definitely Mickey’s voice on the other end—and half a world away, for all Cole knew.
“It’s Cole, Mickey.” Cole paused, thought for a second, then continued with the only thing that came to mind, “This shit ain’t personal, it’s just business.”
With that, he hung up the phone, partly in disbelief. Looking at Tony, Cole could see that Tony was also bewildered. The van turned another sharp corner and the man seated in the passenger seat yelled, “One minute out.”
Tony asked, “Are you shitting me? That was Mickey on the other end?”
Cole nodded, saying, “Yeah, even I couldn’t make this stuff up.”
Tony took out his phone again and held it up to his right ear. With his other hand covering his left ear, he yelled into the phone, “Go find Mickey. Now. Get every guy you’ve got on it and go find that little bastard.”
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