knew a Ramon in the pen. He was a fag," Virgil said, looking into the Cuban's eyes, showing he wasn't the least intimidated. "I can use one of your other names if you want.
Jose, Juan, Julio-what were they again?"
Ramon saw he wasn't going to bluff the older man but still kept his bad-news stare on him. "You call me what you want, Farmer John."
Ted relaxed; it would be all right now. The jockeying for position in the pack was something he had expected, but not quite so soon. A little snarl here and a nip there was just their way of staking out ground. Now 1 gotta know who wants to go all the way, he said to himself as he stood.
"Guys, it's time we talked about the op. . . . I told both of you it was going to be a score. It is, but now we have a change-we've got an added mission. The good news for both of you is that upon successful completion of both jobs you're both gonna be very rich men. How's a million bucks sound?"
Virgil whistled but Ramon stared hard at Ted. "What's the added mission, man?"
Ted returned the stare. "We're going to knock off a big player."
"Who?" Ramon asked suspiciously.
"Carlos Mendez."
Ramon backed up with a look of shock. "Mendez? You fuckin' loco, man?"
Ted wrinkled his brow. "Naw, I'm not crazy. We got good intell on the guy, his schedule, location of guards, everything we need. We can do it."
Ramon threw up his hands. "Mendez? I knew this was too good to be true! And shit, I cut off my ponytail, too, man. No way, not even for a million bucks."
Virgil sat calmly in his chair and slowly turned, looking at Ted. "You sure the intell on this player is good?"
"Yeah, it's all recent stuff," Ted said.
Ramon stared at Virgil. "Don't listen to this squid, man. It doesn't matter what he has. Mendez has an army protecting him and they all carry serious shit, man. I know all about Mendez. I worked for a player who was Mendez's competitor. Mendez is big shit, man, the biggest in Miami. He has people on the payroll everywhere. Even if we make the hit we'll never get out alive. He lives in a walled-in estate on Key Biscayne that'd take a division to storm ... no way we can get in."
"Yeah, but he's like you, Ramon," Ted said. "He's a sucker for strange poontang. He's got him some broads on the side he visits on his yacht. That's where we'll hit him."
Ramon smiled without humor. "You're crazy if you think that makes a difference. We'd still have to neutralize about twenty people to get to him. Where you goin' to get that kind of equipment and firepower, man?"
Ted motioned to the stacks of wood on the cement foundation. "Come on, let me show you somethin'." Without hesitation Ted began to walk toward the foundation. Virgil stood and patted Ramon's back. "I think for a chance at a million you ought to take a look at what the man has."
Ramon lowered his head and followed.
Ted stood on the foundation and pointed at a tarp as the two men approached. "I have some friends who gave me everything we might need to make the score. It's also enough to do the hit." He bent over and pulled back the tarp, revealing a trunk. He unlocked the padlock and swung back the lid. "This is just a sample of what we got."
Virgil whistled, but Ramon leaned over for closer inspection. He picked up a silenced Mac-10 and pulled back the charging handle. "It's new," he said, and looked at the other weapons and equipment. "You didn't get this stuff at an army surplus store, man; it's all illegal. Who are these friends of yours?"
"You don't need to know," Ted said.
Ramon put the submachine gun back in the trunk and shook his head. "You're connected, man. You lied to me."
Ted stepped closer to the Cuban. "I don't lie to my teammates, you get that straight right now. I am not connected; I have friends, I told you that. That's just a sample of the hardware. I also have claymores, grenades, smoke, frags, incendiary, and gas. We've got demo, electric and nonelectric blasting caps, det cord, the newest night-vision gear, and all the
Jose, Juan, Julio-what were they again?"
Ramon saw he wasn't going to bluff the older man but still kept his bad-news stare on him. "You call me what you want, Farmer John."
Ted relaxed; it would be all right now. The jockeying for position in the pack was something he had expected, but not quite so soon. A little snarl here and a nip there was just their way of staking out ground. Now 1 gotta know who wants to go all the way, he said to himself as he stood.
"Guys, it's time we talked about the op. . . . I told both of you it was going to be a score. It is, but now we have a change-we've got an added mission. The good news for both of you is that upon successful completion of both jobs you're both gonna be very rich men. How's a million bucks sound?"
Virgil whistled but Ramon stared hard at Ted. "What's the added mission, man?"
Ted returned the stare. "We're going to knock off a big player."
"Who?" Ramon asked suspiciously.
"Carlos Mendez."
Ramon backed up with a look of shock. "Mendez? You fuckin' loco, man?"
Ted wrinkled his brow. "Naw, I'm not crazy. We got good intell on the guy, his schedule, location of guards, everything we need. We can do it."
Ramon threw up his hands. "Mendez? I knew this was too good to be true! And shit, I cut off my ponytail, too, man. No way, not even for a million bucks."
Virgil sat calmly in his chair and slowly turned, looking at Ted. "You sure the intell on this player is good?"
"Yeah, it's all recent stuff," Ted said.
Ramon stared at Virgil. "Don't listen to this squid, man. It doesn't matter what he has. Mendez has an army protecting him and they all carry serious shit, man. I know all about Mendez. I worked for a player who was Mendez's competitor. Mendez is big shit, man, the biggest in Miami. He has people on the payroll everywhere. Even if we make the hit we'll never get out alive. He lives in a walled-in estate on Key Biscayne that'd take a division to storm ... no way we can get in."
"Yeah, but he's like you, Ramon," Ted said. "He's a sucker for strange poontang. He's got him some broads on the side he visits on his yacht. That's where we'll hit him."
Ramon smiled without humor. "You're crazy if you think that makes a difference. We'd still have to neutralize about twenty people to get to him. Where you goin' to get that kind of equipment and firepower, man?"
Ted motioned to the stacks of wood on the cement foundation. "Come on, let me show you somethin'." Without hesitation Ted began to walk toward the foundation. Virgil stood and patted Ramon's back. "I think for a chance at a million you ought to take a look at what the man has."
Ramon lowered his head and followed.
Ted stood on the foundation and pointed at a tarp as the two men approached. "I have some friends who gave me everything we might need to make the score. It's also enough to do the hit." He bent over and pulled back the tarp, revealing a trunk. He unlocked the padlock and swung back the lid. "This is just a sample of what we got."
Virgil whistled, but Ramon leaned over for closer inspection. He picked up a silenced Mac-10 and pulled back the charging handle. "It's new," he said, and looked at the other weapons and equipment. "You didn't get this stuff at an army surplus store, man; it's all illegal. Who are these friends of yours?"
"You don't need to know," Ted said.
Ramon put the submachine gun back in the trunk and shook his head. "You're connected, man. You lied to me."
Ted stepped closer to the Cuban. "I don't lie to my teammates, you get that straight right now. I am not connected; I have friends, I told you that. That's just a sample of the hardware. I also have claymores, grenades, smoke, frags, incendiary, and gas. We've got demo, electric and nonelectric blasting caps, det cord, the newest night-vision gear, and all the
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