“No, you haven’t; you’ve been terrific,” she said and paused. I let the silence hang for a few moments. “Okay… Dinner tonight,” she said and clicked off. She was pushy in a good way.
I was up in my head. Lev was still out there working on how to kill me, my partner Lenny was planning to leave tomorrow, and I could not rely on the government for assistance… because I lacked the right security clearance? I felt a little empty as we approached the Biltmore Hotel. Normally, when we drove onto the hotel property, it was like coming home; it usually produced feelings of safety and security. This time, I felt a raw emptiness.
* * *
We parked at the valet stand. I grabbed my two briefcases, and Lenny took the suitcase filled with cash. Another score for us… at what cost? We’d figure it out in the room.
As we walked through the hotel entrance doors, I was aware that we smelled like explosions and maybe other military scents. For the first time, I noticed light powder on Lenny’s face, which meant that it were probably on mine too. I had the Glock secured on my hip, and Lenny had the Diablo and his Glock on his. We still wore the windbreakers, so we were not so obvious—well, maybe aside from the aroma of gunpowder around lunchtime.
We turned toward the elevators but were distracted by a woman at reception waving to us. She signaled for us to come over, which we did.
“Mr. Randall, good to see you,” she said. Her name tag said Rebecca. “Two men were here and inquired if you were present. We called your room and got no answer.”
“What?”
“Yes. They did not leave a card or name or anything. I thought you should know.”
“What did they look like?” I asked.
“They were nicely dressed, and…” She paused. “Why don’t I get a photo from the security camera?”
“Yes, please do that now,” I said, going way up into my head. My chest tightened. Lenny and I looked at each other with the same thoughts. That he too was thinking of darkness only made it worse for me.
Rebecca returned with an iPad and faced it toward us. She pushed the start button, and we had video and audio of two men facing her. We saw and heard them ask for Mr. Randall with a slight foreign accent. Rebecca asked who was asking for Mr. Randall; the taller one responded “Mr. Smith.” She called my suite; no answer. Then they asked for Ms. Berger. Rebecca responded that she was staying in Mr. Randall’s room and there had been no answer. She asked them if they wanted to leave a message or a business card. They nodded no, turned, and walked toward the hotel doors; there was nothing unusual about their walk or their exit. Their accent gave it all away… That, plus their lying eyes.
Lenny grabbed my arm and pulled me gently away from reception. “Go to the spa and see if Lauren is still there. I’m going to stash this in my room. Go… Call me,” he instructed. I snapped out of my reverie.
“Wait,” I said, “take my briefcases.”
I handed them to him, and he bolted for the elevators. I moved with speed to the hotel spa, which was on the other side of the hotel, maybe one hundred yards away. I instinctively reached for the Glock on my hip—I touched it and was comforted, but only a little. Lev had sent men to our hotel after luring us to the warehouse. This bastard had to go down, and today was the day. First, find Lauren.
* * *
Lenny took the elevator to their floor, got out, and scanned the hallway in both directions. Nothing. He shifted Derek’s briefcases to the suitcase-carrying arm and pulled out his Diablo handgun. He walked slowly to their rooms at the end of the hallway. When he got to his room, directly across from Derek’s, he stopped and listened. Nothing. He unlocked his door quietly, stepped in, and eased the door shut.
He rushed into his bedroom, placed the suitcase and the briefcases in the closet, pulled out one of his Pelican cases, closed the closet door, and returned to the living area. He unlocked the two mechanisms with a key and lifted it open. It contained Lenny’s equipment, the stuff he used for his work. He reached into a section and retrieved an electronic object that looked much like the radar speed guns police use. It was a high-grade military thermal imaging device. If humans were in Derek’s room, this device would show heat signatures.
He moved closer to his door, flipped on the device, and waited a minute while it booted up. When it indicated that it was in action mode, he aimed it at Derek’s room across the hall. The microwave beam had no problem with walls. Lenny watched the screen. What he saw took his breath away.
* * *
I walked into the hotel spa and was greeted by the usual pleasant smells associated with aromatherapy. It would have given me comfort under other circumstances. I approached the reception desk where a young woman was smiling at a customer who was saying something about how wonderful her massage had been. After signing her receipt, the customer turned and left. I approached the woman, whose name tag read Alisha.
“Hi Alisha, how are you doing?” I asked, trying to be courteous and not reveal the emotions that were starting to grip me around the chest and abdominal area.
“Very well, sir, what can I do for you today?”
“I’m looking for my friend, Lauren Berger. She was supposed to come here today for some spa stuff. Is she still here?”
“No, I’m sorry. Ms. Lauren said she got a call and left rather abruptly. Is everything okay?”
“When was this?”
“I think about forty-five minutes ago. I can check,” she offered. I fell speechless. “Shall I check the exact time?” she asked.
“Um, ah… Yeah, please check,” I managed to respond.
She turned and walked through a door behind her.
Just then my phone chimed; it was Lenny. I accepted.
“Get up here now. Come to my room. Be quiet in the hallway.”
“What’s up?” I said as my stomach started moving up toward my throat.
“There’re three people in your room.”
* * *
When Alisha returned to the reception desk, I was not there. I ran out of the spa with my cell phone still at my ear, frightened by what Lenny had said. I knew what this was, but I could not let my fears and emotions control me.
I stopped in the hallway just outside of the spa, touched the wall for balance, and took a few deep breaths to get my brain working again. As I finished an exhale, two guests were walking toward me, an older man and woman. They stopped and looked at me with concern. The man said, “Are you all right, sir?”
“Yes, thank you. A little hypoglycemia. I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” I said; that I could think fast told me my brain was functioning again. I waved thanks to the friendly couple and moved on at a walking speed. I needed to be in every moment now. Lauren was in trouble. I touched the Glock for some feeling of security, which it gave, even if in a limited way.
As I walked toward the elevators, I studied everybody and everything. All persons were potential Lev-related enemies, and there was a trap or danger around every corner. That was my mindset: total awareness.
People were moving around in the lobby. Nothing drew my attention, especially no guys sitting around pretending to read newspapers while their lying eyes were roving. I let some other people take the elevator that was open. The next one came; I got in and was alone. When it arrived at my floor, I got out, pulled the Glock from my hip holster, and moved into the hallway.
I scanned both ways. A couple was coming from the opposite side of the hallway. I moved the Glock beneath my windbreaker and moved off toward Lenny’s room. It was an eerie feeling, walking closer to danger and knowing it was Lauren who, again, was in the middle of that danger.
I stopped halfway, tapped in Lenny on my phone, and murmured that I was in the hallway and to open the door. When I got there, he slid it open silently, I moved in, and he closed it without even a click.
“Here,” he said, holding the thermal imaging device up for us to see, aiming it t
hrough his door at my room. Clear as day, three heat images; we could even see general body forms. They were humans. All were in the main sitting room. One had a lower profile toward the back of the sitting room. There was a couch there; maybe that was Lauren seated. One was moving just beyond, maybe pacing. Lev? And one was off to the right, probably seated.
“Oh shit,” I said as the grip around my chest tightened.
“They don’t know we’re here, man. We have a little advantage,” Lenny said calmly.
“But they have Lauren,” I said, stating the obvious.
“Calm down, brother… We can handle this.” He looked me right in the eyes, which drew my attention away from my emotions and back into the present. “We can handle this.” Then he whacked me on the shoulder, which did the trick.
“I spoke to James. He confirmed that Lev used one of the burners just a few minutes ago. James is on everything right now,” Lenny said. “We know it’s Lev in there.”
“Oh great, a stone-cold killer is holding Lauren and wants to kill me… What, exactly, is our advantage here?” I said.
“Stop it or I’ll knock you on your ass the next time I tap your shoulder.”
“Okay, sorry, talk to me. What do we do?”
“That’s better. Listen, I have some breaching stuff, not much; I can get that door blown off. After that, it’s iffy. We’re not trained for this. We need a real SWAT team. Like Pablo’s guys, or even Ross’ team. We need trained guys with real equipment.”
“What website do we get that from?” I said without thinking.
“Stop being a jerk-off, man… Your woman is over there,” he said. He was right, but my nerves were pinging at high speed.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s make a plan.” I made an effort to pull myself together. “I’ll call Pablo, you call Ross. After that, it’s you and me.”
“Not really, we can go sheriff and police,” Lenny responded as he tapped his own cell phone and moved over to the kitchen.
I tapped Pablo on mine. He accepted immediately.
“Amigo, what you forget?” he answered.
“You were good, Pablo. Can you do another job for us?”
“What job?”
“We got a situation, here at the hotel… We got—”
He cut in. “You crazy, gringo. We no do jobs in hotel. Way too much people, security, cameras… You crazy, man.”
“Of course,” was all I could respond.
“But if something else come up, you call. You good. That suitcase, one million, amigo. Yours too, right?” he said with a chuckle.
“We didn’t count yet,” I said.
“You call again, I take call… You okay, gringo,” he said, and clicked off, very much in Miami style.
Just as the call with Pablo ended, Lenny came from the kitchen holding his phone. He put it on speaker. “Derek’s here with me, Howie. Say again what you just told me.”
“Mr. Randall, our SWAT team from the Tampa Bay field office arrived at that warehouse a little early. They found nothing inside except some blocks of cocaine. They found some blood in the back of the building, apparently fresh. They’re blocking out the site now. It’s a big score for DEA, and maybe DHS too. Do you know anything about what happened there?” he asked in government-agent mode.
“No, sir.”
“You sure? There is evidence that some kind of confrontation took place. Doors blown down, some flex ties on the floor, some fresh urination near one wall.”
“Listen, Howie,” Lenny cut in. “Lauren is in the room across the hall from us. There are three people in that room; I’ve got a thermal imager. We need your help… Now!” he said in a low, threatening tone. I loved it when he got forceful.
“What help?”
“We want your SWAT team here. Lev is here. He’s in that room with one of his men—we’ve confirmed as of thirty minutes ago. And Ms. Berger is in there. It’s Hostage 101, Howie. We need your help. This guy has killed people. And the woman has been through way too much. Time to step up,” Lenny said.
“Let me talk to the commander. I’ll call you right back,” Ross said and clicked off. It was something of a breakthrough.
I started thinking strategy, what was possible… We needed a real plan.
“I’m going to try Lauren,” I said to Lenny. “Maybe they’ll let her take the call.”
“We’re not here yet. Tell her fifteen minutes,” Lenny advised.
Right, I thought, buy some time. I tapped in Lauren’s phone. Ring, ring, ring…
Third ring, she answered. “Hey.” The acoustics told me she was on speaker.
“Hey, we’re heading back… We’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. Everything okay?” I said, knowing the exact opposite to be true.
“Yes, sure,” she said in a weak voice.
“I’m going to order room service. You want the usual?” I asked, saying the first thing that popped into my mind.
“Yes,” she said, then the connection snapped off. Almost simultaneously, Lenny’s chimed: it was Agent Ross.
“Okay,” Ross said, a little out of breath. “The commander says he has no orders for a further op. “
“What the fuck?” Lenny growled.
“Whoa, wait a sec,” Ross said, raising his voice. “I countermanded his orders. You guys have helped us. We’re coming to help you. Meet us in the lobby.”
“How are you getting here?” Lenny asked. It was a good point—they might come in a helicopter and land on the hotel grounds, announcing their presence.
“We have black Suburbans, three of them. The team has six members, all top-flight. I’ll be with them.” He paused, and we paused, then he said, “See you in about fifteen. I’ll call at the hotel.” He clicked off.
I exhaled; so did Lenny. Was the government really going to help us?
* * *
Lenny and I gamed it out for the next ten minutes. The objective was to get the SWAT team into the room and, as they say, “neutralize the threat,” hopefully with extreme prejudice. Lenny had a lot more experience in this kind of stuff than I did. We merged his experience and expertise into a plan to get the SWAT team positioned after I was in the room. We counted on our belief that Lev was not a suicide bomber type—he wanted to get his money back and escape to actually spend it. It gave us some leverage in the situation, which we could use.
We called the hotel security director and explained the situation. He wanted to come up and personally intervene. We stopped that immediately. Lenny would go down and deal with him as well as the incoming SWAT team. I would stay in the room and monitor the situation. Lenny showed me how to work the thermal imager. I aimed it, and we saw the three images, with the furthest of the three moving about, perhaps nervously, at the back edge of the suite. That had to be Lev.
* * *
Lenny slipped out of the room and softly padded down the hallway to the elevators. When he came out of the elevator at the lobby level, the security director, Denny Sherman, was waiting with another security guy. They greeted him with handshakes and then moved quickly to Sherman’s office just behind reception. As Lenny was explaining the situation to Sherman, Agent Ross chimed in; he was three blocks from the hotel. Lenny conferenced Derek into the call. Sherman suggested that the team enter the hotel through the delivery entrance at the back of the hotel and park in that space, which was large enough to accommodate many delivery vehicles. They could stage there.
Lenny, Sherman, and his man left the office and marched down the hall to stairs leading to the delivery floor below. In the delivery garage, Sherman pressed a button on the wall, and the garage doors came up. Three black Suburbans zipped into the space in close formation and parked with their fronts in a straight line facing Lenny and Sherman. Twelve doors opened simultaneously. Six men in black tactical suits emerged, face masks tucked under their chins and silenced MK mach
ine guns ready at their chests. Ross and two other men in FBI windbreakers got out as well. It was an impressive looking government show of force, Lenny thought. Agent Ross disconnected his call to Lenny, but Derek was still connected with Lenny’s phone, so he could hear everything. Lenny and Agent Ross greeted each other, introductions to Sherman and his colleague were made, and Lenny explained the situation to Ross.
The SWAT team commander then took control—total control. He wanted tactical details about the hotel and the room, and asked for confirmation that the subject, Lev Lavorosky, was in fact in that room. Ross told him it was confirmed, with no hesitation. The commander did not ask how that confirmation had been obtained but asked the critical question for the op: “Is this catch and carry, or neutralize?”
Lenny emphasized that Lauren was a hostage. Her safety was paramount. After that, what they did with Lev and his man was up to them—as long as they did not let him get away. Agent Ross shared a look with the commander, some kind of silent government-speak.
With all the facts on the table, Lenny proposed the plan he and Derek had devised. “Okay, here’s the way we see it. Derek said he’s bringing room service when he called Lauren. It was on speaker; they heard it. They’re expecting Derek. That means he can walk in with a cart of some kind. He’s in there and he’s mic’d, so you’ll hear it in real time. You can put anything you want in that cart. On the signal, Derek goes for Lauren, and you guys come in and handle the situation.”
“Who’s Derek?” the SWAT commander asked.
“He’s the guy who’s going into that room and making this work,” Lenny responded.
The commander nodded, thinking. After about a minute, he moved on. He requested Security Director Sherman to order the kitchen to prepare food and a suitable cart. Sherman then produced the necessary site details for the commander: a floor plan of their rooms, the floor, and the emergency stairs just past their two rooms at the end of the hallway. The commander said he thought the site situation was an advantage.
Sherman’s man was dispatched to call all the rooms on that side of the hallway, and the other side of the hallway if time permitted. He would see if any guests were in their rooms and tell them to stay in place because a police emergency would be taking place on that floor. One of the SWAT team members retrieved a medium-sized suitcase from the back of one of the Suburbans and followed Sherman to the kitchen.
Downward Dog in Miami Page 37