Wood's Wall (9 page)

“That’s my shit.” Cesar walked over and stuck his finger in the mountain of white powder on the table. He licked his finger, confirming his initial reaction. “These fuckin’ gringos are partying on my shit,” he screamed.

He went to the bed and stared at the two sleeping bodies. Incensed, he grabbed the mattress and dumped it on the floor. The bodies landed on top of each other. They started to unravel themselves from the sheets when a booted toe landed on each of them. 

“Stay where you are.” He turned as he heard the other door open. “Jose, take these two into the living room.” 

“What’s going on here?” The man stood in the other doorway a woman’s hair visible behind him.

“You enjoying my stuff too?” Cesar snapped. Turning, he pushed the newcomers into the living room as well.

***

Trufante took one of the chairs. The two couples huddled together on the couch, obviously terrified. The women were weeping, the men wide eyed in disbelief. Cesar and his drug runner stood over them, freely waving their guns around. 

“I want my shit back and you will pay for what is missing.” Cesar started.

“
We
found it, and who says it’s yours? We don’t owe you anything,” Dan said.

Cesar went up to him and placed the gun to his forehead. He pulled the trigger without warning, and blood and brain matter sprayed over the living room. Trufante looked on, the pain forgotten. Somehow he needed to get out of here and warn Mac. 

The women were screaming now, inching away from the body. 

“Whatever you want. Just don’t hurt us. I’ll get it for you,” Jeff said, starting to rise.

“Now, that’s the kind of attitude I like to see. Sit right there. Jose will get it. Tell him where it is.”

Jose went towards the bedrooms. He came back with two opened bricks, each with about a quarter missing. He started toward the kitchen, ostensibly looking for a plate to scrape up what was scattered around the house, but Cesar stopped him.

Trufante watched on in horror. He’d been around commercial fishermen for long enough to know that his finger would heal. But, killing the dude was way out there. “They didn’t take much. Why don’t you take it off their finders fee?” He pleaded. 

“Ain’t no finders fee now. They’ll pay for all that. Don’t worry about it.” He turned back to the people in front of him. “Looks like you owe me a half a brick. That’ll be a hundred large.”

“I don’t have a hundred grand.” Jeff put his hands out in front of him, pleading for understanding.

Cesar shrugged, unperturbed. “That’s including my good customer discount. You have twenty-four hours to come up with it. I’ll take the women as collateral.”

“Don’t let him do this!” one of the women screamed. 

Jeff moved to comfort her. “Donna, babe, It’s going to be ok. I’ll get what they want. You guys just keep cool” He turned to Cesar. “OK, but I need to go to Tampa and back. I need some more time.”

“Drive fast, gringo.”

Cesar motioned the women off the couch. They rose as one, clutching each other, and he nodded at Trufante, who rose as well. They looked like a funeral procession walking single-file to the truck.

***

Pete looked around the bar. It was about half-full — quieter than the night before. He scanned the crowd for Joanie and Sue, but didn’t see them. Hoping they were regulars, he sat at the bar and waited for the bartender to make her way to him. He needed someone to talk to. His mind spun with the possibilities of what was going on now. What had they done to Trufante? What about Dan, Jeff and the girls? He reached for his phone and dialed Jeff’s number. It went to voicemail. He texted a message for him to call. 

“What can I get you, hon?”

“I’m trying to find a couple of girls that were here last night. Sue and Joanie.”

“Aren’t we all.” She winked at him.

“Maybe you remember the guy I was talking to. Tall, thin, lots of teeth.”

“Oh, that’s Tru. I can’t give out any numbers, but I’ll call him for you.”

“I’m actually looking for Joanie. We kind of hit it off,” He said, knowing Trufante was in no position to answer his phone. 

“Don’t have her number, but I know she works over at Fisherman’s Hospital. Why don’t you check over there?”

“Thanks. I will. How ‘bout a shot of Jack. Hell, make it a double.” Pete badly needed something to calm him down.

She set the shot glass in front of him. It barely hit the bar top before he slammed the shot. He got up and left a ten on the bar.

Back outside, he sat in his car and dialed. He took a chance and dialed Trufante’s number first which went straight to voicemail, and he hung up without leaving a message. Whatever had happened to the guy, he didn’t need some stranger listening to a voicemail that might implicate him in the wrongdoing. He pulled out of the lot and drove aimlessly towards US1. With no plan, he sat an extra minute at the stop sign deciding which way to go when he saw the black truck with the neon floorboards and ballyhoo stenciled on its sides. Steeled by the bourbon and not knowing what else to do, he backed out of the lot and followed. 

The truck was heading south, toward Key West. He tried to stay several cars back, but got nervous about losing them and crept closer. He was right behind them at the red light, his one working headlight revealing what looked like three heads in the back seat. It looked like one tall guy — possibly Trufante — and two women. 

The truck turned left on 15
^th
Street. Halfway down the street, the driver cut the lights. Pete felt vulnerable now, and found a house with no cars in the driveway, where he could hide the car. He got out and followed on foot.

14

Mac jumped out of bed. He’d just dozed off when the sound of the front door being kicked in woke him. His first instinct was to grab Mel and get out. The extra 110 pounds didn’t slow him as he went out the sliding door onto the deck and headed down the stairs. They were at the dock when she came to, eyes wide and started to open her mouth. Mac put a finger to his lips. Just as he set her down the lights went on in the house. Mel went over the gunwale first and Mac followed wondering what kind of trouble Trufante had gotten him into now. This had to have something to do with the plutonium. 

They went into the cabin, and Mel sat on a bunk, naked. “What the hells going on?”

Mac ignored her as he peered through the window. Seeing nothing but lights, he went for the revolver hidden behind an access panel in the main stateroom. Back on deck, he screened himself behind the winch and watched. Mel creeped up behind him wrapped in a towel.

***

Trufante was the last in the house, nudged through the door by the barrel of Cesar’s hit man’s gun. The initial shock of the mauling had worn off, but his finger still throbbed incessantly. He was trying not to think about the fact that he’d have to live the rest of his life with only half a finger - if he lived at all.

The two women in front of him were still sobbing hysterically. There was nothing he could do to comfort them with a gun in his back.

 “Jose’, stay down here with the gringos. I’m going to have a look upstairs.” He disappeared up the staircase, returning seconds later. “He’s gone. Cajun, I swear to Mary that I will take all your fingers off and feed them to the fish if you warned him.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been with you the whole time. You’ve got my phone.”

Cesar moved towards Trufante, took his hand and pinched the stub. Trufante’s eyes bugged out from the pain. “I’m watching you. Where is the last package?”

Trufante stumbled as he went towards the workbench. He’d already noticed the box missing, but had no alternative than to go through the process. Cesar followed him to the spot where Mac had examined the box. “It was here the last I saw of it.” Cesar reached for his finger again, but Trufante saw him coming and jerked it back. “Let’s check the office, that’s where he would have put it.” He was running out of options.

Trufante used his good hand to sort through the desk and shelves. Cesar stood in the door, watching. “Hurry up, Cajun.”

“Give me a minute, there’s a ton of crap in here.” He moved toward the closet with the gun safe, and hid his surprise at finding the door open. Placing his body to block Cesar’s view, he grasped a gun. He could take down Cesar, but the other guy was outside, and would be on him as soon as he fired. He needed to work his way toward the back door before he shot, leaving himself an exit route.

“Move Cajun,” Cesar barked. He’d obviously seen the safe, then, and guessed at what it might contain. 

Trufante let the towel in his hand fall loosely over the gun as he moved backwards, watching as Cesar couldn’t resist the lure of the safe. He went right for it and started searching the shelves as Trufante backed out of the room. He went towards the girls, who were huddled together and tried to move them slowly towards the rear door. Jose was staring at the office waiting for Cesar to appear as they started inching their way out. He eyed the office door hoping for a few extra seconds to get out and make their escape. 

“Got it.” Cesar yelled. He came out of the office with the brick-shaped box. He looked at the girls standing by the rear door. “Jose, we don’t need them anymore.” 

“Now?” Jose asked.

Cesar nodded in the affirmative, and Jose shot them, execution style. They fell to the ground, still clutching each other. Trufante had to make his move now. He raised the gun, his hand shaking violently from the pain. The first shot got Jose in the leg, putting him on the floor. He whirled, looking for Cesar, and saw that the man had hidden behind one of the columns. Trufante took a shot at him, knowing it would miss, but hoping to gain enough time to make it out the door. He glanced at the blood pooling around the bodies on the concrete floor. Nothing he could do now - he had to move. 

As he dove through the door, both Mexicans fired, their bullets dinging the door jamb on either side of him. He rolled and shot back twice, then heard another shot. A bullet hit the doorjamb, but it had come from outside the house.

There was another shooter outside somewhere. He prayed that it was Mac.

Cesar ducked inside, taking shelter from this unknown threat, and Trufante scrambled farther out onto the dock.

“Come on, move. I’ll cover you. Get the dock lines,” a voice muttered from the darkness.

Trufante didn’t question the orders. He jumped on the boat and let the lines free as Mac started the engines and slammed the twin diesels into gear. Moments later, they were leaving the harbor, the engines pushing the boat as fast as it could go.

***

“Shit. They got away.” Cesar quickly inspected himself and, finding no damage, turned to Jose. The large man was writhing in pain on the ground. “I’ll get something to wrap that. You’ll be ok.” He took off his belt, bent down and tightened it around Jose’s leg. “Can you get to the truck? I’ve gotta get rid of the bodies. Police find the same gun was used here as the other house, they’ll up the ante.”

Jose nodded and started crawling toward the stairs. He used the railing to haul his body erect and limped out the door, a path of blood trailing behind him.

Cesar looked around and saw the crate of diving weights. He stuffed weights into the clothing of the first woman and carried her to the seawall. Once there, he pushed the body off the edge and watched it sink. Then he repeated the procedure with the other woman, dumping her beside her friend, promising the snapper and crabs a few good meals.

He went back inside and turned the lights off. A dark house would attract less attention. The door locked behind him as he went for the truck. He set the lead box on the seat beside him. Ignoring Jose in the back seat, he pulled out of the driveway.

***

Mac had slowed the boat as soon as they were out of gunshot range. Mel was on deck now, staring at the two men in shock.

“Can you have a look at his finger?” Mac asked quickly. He spun in the direction of the splash.

“You got anything for the pain?” Trufante whined. 

“You’re not getting crap until you tell me what the hell is going on here. What just went in the water?”

Trufante went back over the events of the hours since he left the house. Mac and Mel listened intently, glancing at each other as he spoke.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Mel looked at Trufante. “And you,” she looked accusingly at Mac. “You played right along. You seriously need to find another hobby than cleaning up his messes.” Another splash interrupted her. 

“They must be dumping the bodies of those two women. No surprise there — the guy wasn’t going to leave those two girls for the cops to find.”

“He needs a doctor. Those bastards took his finger off to the knuckle.” Mel said.

“No doctors. If we take him to the hospital, the police will be involved. Three people just got shot — two at my place.”

“And involving the police would be wrong how?” Mel asked.