M.I.A. Hunter: Miami War Zone by Stephen Mertz Page B

position.
    "I need a drink," Charlie said. He went to the padded leather wet bar on one side of the room—red leather with black diamond patches on it—and poured himself a stiff bourbon.
    "And do we know who is responsible for this 'fucking slaughter'?" Don Vito said when Charlie came back to the bedside.
    Charlie took a deep drink. "No, we don't."
    "And is there more to the story?"
    The drink gave Charlie the courage to admit the rest. "Yes. There were some guys in there, we can't find out who, and they blew away a four-man hit team. Just like that."
    "I don't like this, Charlie," the old man snapped.
    "Neither do I, goddammit ! We don't know who called the hit and we don't know who walked out of it. You think I like that shit?"
    The old man just looked at him.
    Charlie took another drink to calm himself. "Anyway, we've got to go through with our plan. Me and my guys will hit the spic drug deal tonight." He looked at his watch. "In one hour from now."
    "And the Colombians will think the Cubans have double-crossed them, of course, since the Cubans chose the site. Or perhaps the Cubans will think it is a Colombian double-cross. Either way, we win."
    "Right." Charlie finished his drink.
    "You believe that Enrique Feliz will fall for it? Or the Colombians? You believe that Feliz is that stupid?"
    Charlie walked over to the bar and refilled his glass. "Sure he is. The only hitch in the deal is that D.E.A. guy you bought."
    The don stiffened. "That is the smartest thing we've done."
    To Charlie, this defense of his action was a sure sign that his father was indeed senile, and that the flashes of life he had shown only moments before were a freak occurrence.
    "Let me explain it," the old man continued. "If there is any question in the mind of the Colombians about the Cuban double cross, they might hesitate to throw their business to us. How will we ever be able to gain their confidence?"
    "There won't be a question. Hell, I've hired a bunch of Cubans for this deal, through Castillo and Rodriguez. Me and the guys will be out of sight, just helping out if they need us."
    "There is always the chance of a slip-up. At any rate. I want to have the D.E.A. man tortured, so that we can learn everything we possibly can about his agency's information on drug smuggling and the operations in the Miami area in particular. The Colombians would pay generously for this information, but we will give it to them freely when they agree to wholesale to us instead of those damn Cuban fucks. And they will agree to such a thing if they believe Feliz has double crossed them."
    Torture , Charlie thought. Just goes to show how far behind the times the old man has fallen. Nobody tortures anybody anymore. Chemicals work so much better, and quieter .
    "I still don't like it," Charlie said. "I've got this thing planned perfect. I'm paying off some spic boys of my own to make the hit. The Colombians'll think they've been burned by Feliz , and we're back in the drug business in Miami instead of the Cubans, the way it used to be. But this thing with the D.E.A. guy, turning him over to the Colombians . . . and the thing at the strip joint . . . Pop, believe me, it'll screw up everything."
    The don said, "Who knows I own that club?"
    "Nobody," Charlie assured him. "We're so clean on that, nobody could connect us."
    "Good. And is the D.E.A. man still safe?"
    "Yes. Still safe." Charlie was keeping the D.E.A. man at his own house, which galled him. He thought it was an unnecessary risk and a real danger. But his father had insisted.
    "You have more men, more security. We can't keep him at my place," the don had reasoned.
    Charlie had agreed, but only for one reason. He was hoping to feed Wofford to his pet alligators after his usefulness was finished.
     
    T he rendezvous was set for an area south of Miami some miles off U.S. 1, an area that could be reached by traveling first on an asphalt road and then on gravel. It hadn't been developed yet, but sooner or later it