by Bud Connell
I laid down and drifted off. Yeah, I know, lay, layed, laid. Who cares?
+++
My cell phone jangled me awake. I felt my heart racing and I popped out in a cold sweat as I punched it on. It was Rosy Gunner.
“You on the move yet?”
“I just woke up.”
“Listen up, Joe. Everything depends on split-second timing, so don’t screw it up.” Rosy sounded blunt. “Start out now, and follow the instructions exactly.”
“I’ll do my best,” I hoped. I was beginning to feel all depressed.
We hung up and I drug myself over to the desk where I’d flopped the bulletproof vest Rosy made me put on after the meeting at DEA. I guessed it’d be the only material thing between eternity and me for the next several hours.
Travis and Rosy made us all exchange cell phone numbers, put ‘em on speed-dial and test ‘em before we left DEA headquarters, and we were supposed to call each other in case anything varied from the plan. My cell rang again. This time it was Ramon.
“What the hell have you gotten me into, Joe?”
“I’m the one wearing a bullet-proof vest.”
“Hot news, I’m wearing one, too, only it’s wired. If Cahoone suspects I’m sending sound, he’ll rip the vest off me and make me eat it before he takes me out!”
“I’m sorry.”
“You should be, Joe Oaks, you should be.”
65 – Want to Hear My Proposal?
After I calmed things down with Ramon, I stripped the limo signs off the Lincoln and drove south to Haulover Beach just above Bal Harbour, using up the better part of an hour.
As I approached the first entrance to the park, I spotted the dark green Chevy SUV parked closest to a pier, which was part of the plan. Two men messed with rods and reels and tackle boxes.
A refreshment truck lingered in the middle of the lot with one window open. I knew that the radio guys were inside with Rosy and Travis who were armed to the teeth.
Near the edge of the water, a small fishing boat, tied to a post, was kind of bouncing in a light chop. I ignored all of ‘em, as I was instructed to do. So far, everything appeared as I was told it would be.
I pulled into one of the many empty spaces at the far end of the parking lot, put on my new dark sunglasses, got out of the Lincoln, and looking all casual like a native Floridian out for a stroll, leisurely ambled toward the dock nearest the fishing boat.
So far, so good, all I had to do was mark time. So, I sat on a bench and watched, waiting for the scene to unfold.
The Miami sun was about two hours from setting, so the temperature was about perfect. I leaned back and looked up at the crystal blue sky and breathed in a deep pull of the refreshing sea air and let it out slowly. If things went haywire, it was one of the last breaths I’d ever take, but it was a delicious one.
About then, I thought of my girl Katya and wondered if she was lying outside on a Bahamian lounge chair sucking in the same great tropical air. Thinking about her hurt deeply, but I forced my mind off her and onto my job ahead. My life was now on the line.
At 4:05, after nearly thirty minutes of sitting on my duff, a black four-door with blacked out rear and side windows pulled up close to the dock. It was Cahoone’s Mercedes, but he wasn’t driving. I was a good fifty feet away so I squinted through my sunglasses and tried to see through the blacked-out windows and couldn’t do it. The engine kept running and after less than a minute the back door opened and Ramon popped out. I tried not to notice.
He sort of casually walked up to me seated on the bench and said, “Cahoone wants to see you in the car.”
That wasn’t in the plan.
“No,” I said. “I don’t trust him. Tell him that. Tell him that he’ll have to come over here to talk to me.”
Ramon looked down at the asphalt and sucked his teeth. He didn’t say anything, just turned and walked back to the Mercedes. The side window swooshed down about a third of the way, but I couldn’t hear what Ramon said. He stood there by the driver’s door like he was waiting for orders and in less than a minute the back door opened and Cahoone crawled out, but he didn’t look happy. He adjusted and pulled down the tail of his rainbow-colored sport shirt, stared at me, took a breath, and walked slowly in my direction. Ramon was flanking him on the left, and Cahoone stopped and turned, and it looked like he told Ramon to go back to the car and wait, because Ramon glanced at me for a second and turned back toward the Mercedes, which rolled slowly in Ramon’s direction and stopped after moving twenty or so feet.
As Cahoone closed in, the steady glare he sent my way didn’t match his smile. My breathing rate stepped up and I felt a cold sweat pop out across my forehead and above my upper lip. I stood up but didn’t extend my hand to shake.
“Keep your seat, Oaks.”
I sat back down and he dropped and sat next to me on the bench, almost touching, which made me quite a bit nervous.
“Okay, Oaks, let’s cut to it. Where’s my money?”
I’d rehearsed for this and I was ready. “What money? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know damn good and well what money; the money that walked out of my condo with your cheating little girlfriend’s stuff.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. If I’d taken money from you, do you think I’d be here talkin’ to you? I’m not crazy! Don’t you want to hear my proposal?”
“The only proposal is, I propose you give my money back, that’s the only reason I’m here, so where is it? Tell me or I’ll find your little girlfriend and do what I should have done before, and if you don’t tell me where the cash is, you won’t live long enough to see her before I put her down.”
Damn cruel ex-fake husband, and with super sensitive mics pointed right at us from the roach coach parked a few hundred feet away, I had no doubt that Rosy and Travis heard the threat and were also wondering what money Cahoone was talking about. I had to keep denying, and make the offer that the plan called for.
“Like Ramon told you, I got two million for a buy, do you want to furnish the coke, or not?”
“Not, asshole. You’re number’s up.” Cahoone rose straight up, pulled down at his tropical sport shirt and walked in a rapid pace back to his car, opened the back door and slid in. I’m sure the residents could hear his door slam up in Lauderdale.
Suddenly, the car was coming toward me and gaining speed, and as the car drew even, the passenger window lowered and the barrel of a short, powerful-looking gun was pointed right at me. I didn’t hear the shots, but I sure felt ‘em, two or three hits in my chest knocking me backwards and knocking my breath out. I went down thinking my ribs were broken in several places, or I was dying. Last thought before I hit the ground… didn’t know whether the vest saved my life or not. On the way down… got a glimpse of Rosy and another guy coming out of the refreshment truck with guns blazing at the tires and gas tank of the Mercedes. I had one last fleeting thought, wondering whether Ramon was still alive, before I went unconscious.
66 – Where the Bullets Went In
I came to on a bunk in the roach coach, which looked more like a combination communication center and ambulance than a refreshment truck. Two guys in white had my shirt off and were looking at where the bullets went in, or didn’t if the so-called bulletproof vest protected me. I felt woozy, but after a half-minute or so, got up the strength to ask questions.
“Was I hit?” I was trying to gulp in enough air, but couldn’t seem to do it.
“Were you hit? Oh, man, were you ever hit. You got grazed on the head by one slug, and you took at least three in the chest. You got some badly bruised ribs,” said the blond-haired, youngest of the two guys. He took my left hand and guided it up to my head. I felt the bandage.
He went on, “That’s where you got grazed. Lucky for you, you had on the Kevlar. Two of the slugs almost penetrated the entire twenty-eight layers.”
“My friend Ramon–”
“The DEA guys have him.
>
“Did they catch–”
“Yeah, the cops laid out spike strips at all the exits and our men had already knocked out the gas tank and one tire, so the guys who shot at you only got about three blocks. That’s all I know.”
“––Am I okay to leave, I mean drive?”
“Sure, no permanent damage, and if you comb your hair just right you can even cover up the place where you got grazed. You are one lucky bass.”
+++
As I exited Haulover on the way back to Boynton Beach, I dialed Katya. She answered on the first ring. After making sure she was okay, I unloaded my off-the-cuff scheme for our next few moves.
“I can’t tell you anything now, but you’re not safe. Are you dressed?”
“Yes, I was going to dinner.” Her voice sounded strained. “What’s happening wi–”
I interrupted. “Grab what you can’t leave behind, stuff it in a small bag and head for the airport. Take the next available flight to Miami and call me with your arrival time.”
“What about all my clothes and new things I got with my winnings?”
“I’ll make sure they get packed and put on a flight tonight, and I’ll settle the bill by phone, so don’t stop at the front desk. I’ll meet you at the arrival entrance, not at luggage. Look for a black Lincoln sedan with blacked-out windows. Got it?”
“Joe, are you okay? Are you–”
I cut her off. “I’ll be okay when I see you in Miami.”
67 – This Sumbitch Is Still Alive?
Next on my hot list, find out if the Cahoone threat was still looming large. I called Rosy on his cell, and he told me about the take down.
“Didn’t go exactly according to plan though,” Rosy explained. “We nailed him for first degree attempted homicide instead of dealing snow.
“Yeah, I’ve got bruised ribs and a new part in my hair to prove it.”
“Sorry ‘bout that. Goes with the territory. But the medic said it was minor.” Rosy changed subjects. “Uh, what money was Cahoone talking about?”
“I have no idea. He’s got a lot of traffic through his condo.” I acted cool and unconcerned. “I guess somebody helped themselves. Where’s Cahoone now?”
“You’re gonna be a lot safer, pal.” Rosy sounded proud of himself when he told me. “He’s being held with no bail along with his two thugs who used you for target practice. Didn’t get his second-in-command though, Louie Ladue is still out there, so be careful.”
“How about Ramon Rodriguez, is he–?”
“Probably on his way home.”
“What’s next for me?”
“Can’t say for sure, except sit tight, you may have to testify. Stay where we can reach you.”
“In Florida?”
“You got it.”
+++
When Rosy told me Darragh Cahoone was in the slammer, a ton of poundage lifted off my shoulders, and the stuff rushing through my brain slowed down. I took a deep, healing breath of salt air and called Ramon’s cell.
“Yo, Joe, you still alive, you sumbitch?” Ramon actually sounded like his old self.
“Yeah, unfortunately for you, you drugged up pothead.” I couldn’t help dropping back into my own old ways, considering the release from what I’d just been through. “What the hell went wrong anyway?” I asked.
“I played it like I was supposed to. Cahoone said he was interested in doing the big deal with you and I was supposed to be part of the meeting since I was wired, but I guess he planned to knock you off instead. He probably would have taken me out, too, if you hadn’t refused to meet in his car. Lucky stroke for you, and me.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that today.”
“Lucky for you, make it the third. Glad to know you’re okay, Joe-balls.”
“Hold on a second.” A text came in from Katya giving her flight number and arrival time.
“I need to celebrate. You dating anyone?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah, a cute little waitress who loves my boys.”
“Well, keep you pants on, Ramon, and let’s celebrate our butts off tonight.”
“We gotta stay outta sight. Cahoone’s got gun monkeys running all over the place.”
“How about a hotel suite?”
“Yeah, South Beach, about nine o’clock.”
“Text me the address. I’m picking up Katya, so bring your girlfriend and some good stuff.”
+++
Katya exited the terminal looking perfect as usual, and carrying nothing but her makeup bag and purse; so I relaxed a little, knowing that a tail, if there were one, wouldn’t suspect she’d bolt for the airport leaving all her stuff behind. She seemed down, almost irritable. I guess rushing to catch a plane and hiking through long buildings numbed her for my little welcome kiss and hug.
On the way into South Beach, I called the Atlantis and told the front desk to pack up all Katya’s stuff and send it by overnight air, and to add a hundred dollar tip to the tab. Then I updated her on everything that had happened. She listened intently, but made no comment. I guess she was trying to shake off the hurried flight.
Anyway, I said it was time to chill out and hang loose, if only for one night.
68 – Rowdy Came In and Said Howdy
Ramon picked a snazzy art deco hotel with a four star French restaurant on the low end of Ocean Drive, and reserved a suite on the top floor. It was not cheap, but it had twenty-four hour room service.
None of us except Ramon’s girlfriend, Neela, had eaten since breakfast, so we ordered from the downstairs oo-la-la French bistro. While we waited, everybody did a couple of lines to set the mood, and Katya acted like she didn’t want to, but did anyway.
A half-hour of increasingly fast small talk later, room service rolled in two carts containing horses’ doovers, appetizers and soups, and said they’d be back in twenty minutes with the main courses.
Neela tugged at Ramon’s blue suede jacket sleeve.
“I need some more candy,” she said. “I want some more candeeee!”
Ramon pulled her fingers off his jacket and brushed up the suede with his other hand. “Wait ‘til after we get our steaks and stuff, Neela.”
“Oh kaaay.”
Katya looked at Neela and scrunched up her already pouty lips, Katya’s way of showing disapproval. Neela ignored her, if she was even aware that Katya was giving her the once-over.
Young Neela was no wallflower, so Polish supermodel Katya, which is the way Katya insisted I introduce her, obviously considered Neela inferior.
Maybe if we got hopped up enough, good ol’ Catherine Lucille Bobo would come out and play. I tested. “Catherine Lucille?” I said to my soup.
“Who?” Katya replied in her annoyed tone.
I slurped another spoonful. “Oh, somebody I used to know made a soup that tasted like this.”
“Well, it’s kinda strange saying her name out of the blue.”
“Just somebody I used to know. No big deal.” That was sort of a challenge, and I shouldn’t have said it, because from that point on, Katya was cool as a cucumber toward me.
I thought, ‘what the hell’, and I joined in with Neela and pushed Ramon for a couple more hits, to which he obliged being outnumbered two to one, and he himself caved and took a pop.
Well, rowdy came in and said ‘howdy’. We were off and running like three racehorses on speed. If Katya wanted to be a spectator, she was allowed.
Ramon started to light up a joint.
“Hey, don’t. Let’s not stink up the place until after we get our main courses.” I said.
“I agree.” Ramon put the weed away and snorted another line. Neela followed, and so did I.
We three proceeded to solve the problems of the world in a constant stream of chatter with Katya looking on, until the knock at the door and the arrival of the two tuxedo clad waiters with the balance of our dinners. Ramon signed the tab and the two waiters, one old hand and one apprentice type, left the suite.
“I don’t kno
w whether you noticed, but the young guy took a long look at the stuff you left out,” Katya said.
I jerked my head around, and sure enough, coke was laid out in three perfect lines on the coffee table.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ramon said, again pulling the packet from his jacket and extracting a true fatty. “Those guys see it every day. This is South Beach, man!” He lit the cigar size doobie and handed it to Neela, who took a deep hit and passed it to me.
“Excuse me, please.” Katya got up from the table and looked like she might be headed toward the Little Girl’s Room. I guessed it was time to freshen her makeup.
“You’re excused,” we all said in near unison. She stopped behind my chair.
“Where you goin’, hon?” I asked.
“Down to the bar and some fresh air. I don’t want to get high tonight.”
“There’s a mini-bar in the other room,” Ramon pointed over his shoulder.
“I really want a chocolate martini.”
“No can do,” I turned and shrugged. “Don’t got the fixin’s.”
She leaned over and gave me a hug from the back. “I’ll just be a half-hour or less.”
“I’m too wasted to go down with you.”
“I know, Joe-baby. Have a good time. I’ll be back before you know it.” She turned and left.
The party was gettin’ good, and it had been weeks since I’d tied one on.
69 – Just My Usual Brick
It was a good thing Katya left when she did, because not more than ten minutes later, the Miami Beach police busted into the room with the night manager right behind ‘em objecting and yelling.
“You don’t have the right to disturb our guests. I’m going straight to the mayor in the morning!” he yowled.
Ramon, Neela, and I were now standing bolt upright with our mouths open
“Go ahead and report us,” the burley police sergeant answered. “Your guests are the ones making the complaint.”
