Duty Bound (1995) (37 page)

Parker sighed and nodded. "Yeah, where do you want to meet and discuss the coverage?"

"My office. See you there in thirty minutes," Ortiz said.

He put the cigar back in his mouth, dipped his head toward Ashley, and walked toward the elevators.

Ashley stood staring at Parker. "That it? You're going to support Ortiz?"

Parker looked into Ashley's unbandaged eye. "Face it, Agent Sutton, the editor was right about us--we jumped on Mendez being the one and didn't look at other possibilities.

We screwed up. I just hope it's not too late for us to get turned around and focused on Terres." He took the cellular phone from his jacket pocket. "Excuse me, I've got to call my SAC and tell him I was wrong."

Parker turned and walked down the hallway, leaving Ashley and Faraday in the middle of the corridor. Ashley shifted her stance, looking at the stocky detective. "Have we been wrong, Ed?"

Lowering his head, Faraday let out a long sigh. "Maybe we have. But one thing I know for sure. Tanner said it was Mendez . . . his gut told him so. Tanner's gut feelings mean a lot more to me than what that Lopez and the DEA guy said. Hey, where you goin'?"

Ashley spoke over her shoulder as she walked toward Rita Lopez's room. "I'll be right back."

"What are you doing here?" Rita asked, setting down a pad she'd been writing on.

Ashley spoke to the nurse beside the bed. "Excuse us, please. You can come back in just a few minutes. This won't take long."

The nurse was about to protest, but Ashley held the door open. "Now, please. It's an FBI matter."

As soon as the nurse walked out, Ashley shut the door and faced Rita. "Miss Lopez, this is a warning to you. If I find that anything you said in your statement was a lie or misleading I will come back and personally arrest you."

"Are you threatening me?"

"No, Miss Lopez, I am stating a fact. If it is found you gave perjured testimony, you will be charged with obstruction of justice, conspiracy, and three counts of murder. One of those counts of murder will be for a federal officer, my partner. That count alone will get you a life sentence and the good possibility of a death sentence."

Ashley opened the door. "Miss Lopez, you had better pray I don't walk back into this room again." She walked out, shutting the door behind her.

Faraday raised an eyebrow. "What was all that about?"

Ashley kept walking. "Girl talk. Come on, we're going to the field office and look over everything we have on Mendez again."

"So you trust Tanner's gut, too, huh?"

"No, I trust my gut, and it says Rita Lopez lied."

Biscayne Bay Virgil Washington surfaced and spit out his mouthpiece.

"Where's all the fish? On TV there's always pretty fish."

Ted took the regulator from his mouth and pushed back his mask. "Ya gotta get around coral, where they hide. Ya did good for your first time. Let's work on clearing your mask if it fills with water."

"Wait, before you show me, tell me somethin', Ted."

"Sure."

"Ya know that movie Jaws? I know it was just a flick, but do--"

"Naw, Virg, there ain't no Jaws in this bay. The only thing you gotta worry about tomorrow night is you. You get scared and start seein' things underwater, you'll get yourself drowned. There's nothing as bad as you in the water.

Trust me."

"I trust you, Ted--no Jaws, huh? Okay, I can do this.

Shiiit, it ain't near as deep as I thought. I can see the bottom no sweat. I got it. I can do this. I can be a squid like you."

Only thirty yards away Baby ran up the steps and bolted out of the open door onto the deck. Behind him Bonita yelled, "Get back here; I'm not finished yet! Ohh . . . you've dripped dye on the carpet. Ted is going to kill me. Come here, darn you!"

Bonita stepped out of the cabin and searched the deck with her eyes. "There you are. You can't hide from me, buster. Ohhh, look at you. You're shaking. Come to Mama.

I'm sorry. Come on, honey. That's my boy. I'm so sorry, but we have to disguise you. Black is beautiful . . . well, right now you're not so beautiful, but I'll get it right. Just look at Mama. See how my hair looks. . . . That bad, huh? Yeah, I think so, too. When Ted sees us, he'll throw us both overboard. Come on, it won't be much longer and you'll be all done . . . thatta boy. We have to finish you up and dry you off before the frogmen get back. Won't they be surprised."

Chapter 19.

7:00 P. M., Biscayne Bay.

The sun had just turned burnt orange and had lost its strength as Ted, Glenn, Virgil, and Ramon sat in plastic chairs on the deck of The Revenge. Bonita set a tray of soft drinks on the table in front of the team and picked up two empty snack bowls. "Dinner will be ready in thirty minutes," she said softly.

Without looking at her, Ted unfolded a sketch he'd made.

"That's fine; this is just an overview planning session. We'll be done by then."

As Bonita walked toward the cabin, Ted pointed across the bay. "Guys, over there, four miles away, is Key Biscayne and the estate of our target, Carlos Mendez. Lying at anchor just a quarter mile from his place is his yacht.

Tomorrow evening our boy is going to be enjoying the company of a couple of ladies on that yacht, and that's when we're going to take him out."

Ted motioned to the table where he had placed the sketch.

"Bonita gave us all the info, and here's what we're up against. Mendez keeps himself protected at all times. He has a covered walkway from the back entrance of his estate all the way down to his private docks. He'll take the walkway and board a small cruiser with his bodyguards and ten security guards, then be escorted to the yacht by four cigarettes, speedboats, that each have four men, all carrying automatic weapons. Once he and his guards board his yacht, the four cigarettes take up position in a box formation around the yacht. Nobody is allowed within two hundred yards; the perimeter boats make sure of it. If a boat heads in the direction of the yacht, the closest cigarette immediately responds and warns the skipper to change course--you don't argue with guys holding Macs. The perimeter boats are the first line of defense. The second line is the ten security guards who stay on the yacht when Mendez is there. Two are positioned on the lower aft deck, two on the lower forward deck, and two constant rovers. Two spotters are on the bridge and there are two that monitor radios in the communications room located on the bridge. The guards are rotated every eight hours by a new crew that comes out from the estate.

The third and final line of defense is Mendez's bodyguards.

Four of them always stay close to him. Each carries two automatic pistols. Like the security guards, they're rotated every eight hours while he's on the yacht. All tol', we're talking about thirty armed men whose job it is to protect their boss. And they have help. The permanent yacht staff is made up of fourteen people. It includes the skipper and his crew of eight, a chef, his assistants, dishwasher, stewards, maids, and even a gardener--Mendez likes plants; he's got a slew of them on board. The point is, all of these people have eyes and ears and are a passive security measure to reckon with. That's the bad news. The good news is the staff lives below decks. Also, most of the security guards are stationed on the second deck. Mendez's quarters and entertainment area are on the first. That means once Glenn and I get to the first deck, we only have to deal with four bodyguards to get to Mendez."

Ramon shook his head. "Yeah, but you gotta get to that deck first, man. You and Glenn ain't invisible."

"We will be," Ted said with a small smile.

"Hold it, back it up," Virgil said, leaning forward in his chair. "Let's go back to those cigarette boats that form the perimeter. You told me and Ray this afternoon we were goin' to be responsible for taking them out. . . . How we goin' to do that if there are four boats all spread out and only two of us? Especially since ya said they all gotta be taken out at the same time."

"Piece of cake," Ted said. "We've got digital timed-fuse igniters. Once the charges are in place all you have to do is push the right button at the right time."

"That's a piece a' cake?" Virgil responded. "Sure, I went underwater with you today, Ted. I kinda liked it even, but shit, man, we're talkin' about me and Ray scuba-dubin' on our own, at night when it's black as a witch's tit. You said we gotta stay under and don't surface through the whole thing--how the hell we gonna find them boats when we're underwater? And even if we do find 'em, how we gonna see where to put the charges and how we gonna know what damn button to push when it's darker than two feet up a bull's ass? Piece a' cake? You smokin' dope sayin' it's a piece of cake."

Ted smiled again as he pointed above him. "In a couple of hours there's going to be a full moon up there. And when it does get up there, we're all going in for a dive just to prove to you it's not as dark as you think underwater. And tomorrow mornin' startin' at oh dark thirty we're going to rehearse this op a dozen times. You'll be able to do it blindfolded. And if it clouds up tomorrow night for the op, it's not a problem. The NVGs we got are made for underwater use. You'll be able to pick up a dime off the bottom at midnight if you want to. Relax. I know what I'm doin', and you're goin' to do fine."

His face grim, Ramon pushed back in his chair. "Why we doin' all this high-speed plannin'? When Mendez gets on board, why not just blow the fuckin' yacht out of the water and be done with it?"

"We're not like them," Ted snapped. "The permanent staff aren't dirty--we're not killin' innocent people."

"You tellin' me they don't know the guy is dirty? Give me a break, man. You sittin' there sayin' there's thirty badasses with automatics protectin' him. Look around you, man. I count four of us. Thirty against four--let's see, my math ain't so good but it don't take that many brain cells to figure out what our chances are with them odds. Fuck the crew and the maids and his whores, man. None of them people on that boat are turnin' down his paycheck. Blow the fuckin' thing out of the water and let the fish eat 'em."

Angry, Ted stood. "You should have joined Mendez; he doesn't mind killing innocent people, either."

Ramon lowered his head, looking at his hands before his eyes rose to Ted. "I got a little carried away, maybe--I don't wanna kill no innocent people. I just don't like the odds, Ted. Thirty fuckin' people is just too damn many. It takes just one to get lucky and it's over for all of us."

"You haven't heard the whole plan yet, Ramon," Ted said as he retook his seat. "I'm not a glory-seekin' officer or dumbass planner with no experience. I've trained for these kinds of ops for years; so have you. You know what we've got in gear and weapons, and you know each of us. We're all pros here. Listen to the rest of the plan and wait till you make a couple rehearsals tomorrow. Then, tell me if you think the odds are still too high."

Ramon dipped his chin. "Fair enough . . . but after all that if I still think it's fucked up, I'm tellin' you, man. I told you the first day I met you, I don't do fucked-up missions."

"Fair enough. Once we've had supper and done our practice dive this evening, we're pulling anchor and moving into a position about a half mile from the yacht. Glenn and I are going under to make a recon to confirm the depth, take a look at the yacht's hull, and make sure there'll be no surprises for us. But right now let's get back to the plan and some specifics. Tomorrow night we'll all be carryin'. ."

Ted pushed his empty plate back and glanced at Bonita, who was taking the leftovers into the cabin. He leaned over to Glenn. "What's with her? She hasn't hardly said a word to me all evenin'."

Glenn raised an eyebrow. "You should have said something to her about her hair."

"What ya want me to say? 'Bo, you look like that witch on The Munsters'? That black hair looks like shit on her and you know it. And ya see what she did to the poor hunter?

Poor guy looks like a damn tiger the way she streaked him up with that dye."

Overhearing the conversation, Virgil leaned closer to Ted.

"Teddy, you'd best talk to her and be nice. When this op is over you don't be needin' to go back to Atlanta to check out the Little League and soccer fields for classy mommies--

Bonita got 'em all beat."

"Christ'a'mighty, Virg, I'm tryin' to run an op here. Being a sophisticated guy makes you know all about women now?"

"Just tryin' to help you, Ted. You gotta talk to her and make her feel better about her hair, man."

Glenn nodded in agreement. "She did it for us, Ted .. . thought a disguise would lessen the chances of being spotted. It was me who screwed up. She told me to get some hair dye for her and for Baby. I got cheap stuff and the wrong color. Talk to her and tell her she looks good."

Ted leaned back, eyeing Glenn. "Wait a minute. You, of all people, are worried about her feelings? You don't trust her, remember?"

"She's good people, Ted. Like I told ya this morning, I was wrong about her--she's trying real hard and been good to all of us. We're a team, Ted, and she's a part of it. Talk to her."

Ramon stood, walked around the table, and patted Ted's shoulder. "The guys are right, man. You gotta be nice to Bonita--she's been nice to us. Dinner was good, man, and she's workin' hard for us."

"Christ'a'mighty, you too?" Ted shook his head in disbelief. "You guys worry about the op and let me worry about Bonita. But I will talk to her--I'll lie about her hair and won't say nothin' about her screwin' up the poor ol' hunter."