"Just trying to be helpful. Is she really messing with you?"
"So far, just hard-core teasing. She's on some kind of power trip. What's up, Mary?"
"Routine follow-up. Mostly, I wanted you to know your place was compromised. But since we're talking, what's new with Vidal? She spent some time with you this afternoon."
"Not much new. She dropped by to debrief me on my lunch with Berger. Besides that, just her normal crap."
"She trying to make you do things you're not comfortable with?"
"Seriously? What are you? Some kind of voyeur?"
"No. All kidding aside, do you need some help with her?"
"Not so far. She's a class-A bitch, though. Are you going to have my place swept?"
"No. we don't want them to know that we know. We've tapped their feeds, though, just so you know. Whatever they get, we get."
"That's comforting."
"Don't be sarcastic, David. We got what you gave her on Berger. Is there anything else you think we might have missed?"
"Maybe. Did you catch the reference to Martínez?"
"Yeah. But then she jumped you, and I was too embarrassed to keep listening."
"Look, I have to put up with shit like that from her, but not from you."
"Sorry, David. You're right. What about Martínez? Who is he?"
"I'm not sure. I think he's behind this whole Alpha-66 weapons deal. He's apparently able to give Cruz orders."
"Have you met him? Could you i.d. him from photos?"
"No. I've only got what I've given you, but Lupita was dropping his name a while back like he was hot shit."
"Did she say anything that connects him with the Haitians?"
"No. Only the Cuban exile stuff. But she clearly didn't want me talking about him tonight. At the time, it didn't make sense, but now that I know we were being watched, I think she jumped me to shut me up."
"Okay, that's good info. I'll see if we can dig up anything. You got anything else?"
"What about this Alpha-66 business?" he asked.
"What about it?"
"You want me to chase it?"
"No. Stick to the Haitian angle. I mean, sure, if you can find out more about him, let me know. I'll ask up the line, but Alpha-66 is kind of ho-hum, these days. Use it to worm your way into Cruz's confidence, but that's all it's good for. They're just a bunch of old men. They're always trying to stir up something, but nobody takes them seriously any more -- not even the Cuban government. I'll let you know if I hear different."
****
"What a marvelous dinner," Anne Berger said, as Paul and Liz brought platters of food to the table in the outdoor dining room of the mansion. "It's too bad Dani had other plans."
"Is she out with her new friend?" Phillip asked. "What's his name, again?"
"David Ortiz," Liz said.
"Have you met him, Liz?" J.-P. Berger asked.
"Only briefly. He's pleasant enough, and very handsome," Liz said.
"She seems smitten, from the little I've heard from her," Connie said.
Seeing that everyone's plates were filled, Liz and Paul sat down with the others.
J.-P. raised his wine glass. "To old friends and new," he offered. They all touched glasses and sipped the wine. "We should do this more often," J.-P. said. "We should have insisted that Dani bring this new man to meet us all."
"She's certainly charmed with him," Anne said. "That's all she talked about when we were at the spa; that, and how much she appreciated your advice, Liz."
"Not that she needs it, or heeds it," Liz said, with a smile. "This is Dani we're talking about."
"I wonder why she didn't invite him to dinner here?" Connie asked. "It's not like this is a first date, and we would have behaved ourselves. Were they going somewhere special? Or are you sworn to secrecy, Liz?"
"No, neither," Liz said. "I don't think she's out with him tonight."
"Uh-oh," Anne said. "Is there a problem? Can you say?"
"She didn't discuss it with me," Liz said, "so I shouldn't speculate. But she did say she needed some time to herself; she was planning to go for a long walk on the beach this evening. 'To think things over,' she said." Liz took a sip of her wine and cut into the seared ahi steak on her plate.
As the silence began to weigh on them, Phillip put his fork down and drank a swallow of water. "J.-P., have you come up with a way to get Mario out here for his surprise party?"
"Yes and no. In all the years we've known one another, I've never managed to trick him; he is too crafty for a simple, straightforward person like me."
That brought a round of laughter from his tablemates, and he waited, letting them enjoy a moment of levity at his expense. "There is only one person I know who can fool Mario, so I asked for professional help." J.-P. let the suspense build for a moment, and then said, "Gina is going to tell him that she's booked a table for two for his birthday dinner at a new place in South Beach that she learned about from a friend. She will tell him they must stop on the way so that she can retrieve his gift from another friend who is hiding it for her. That stop will be here."
"Will he fall for that?" Phillip asked.
"Mario is a smart man; he has had over 50 years to learn not to ask questions about what Gina tells him," J.-P. said. "Speaking of getting people here, Phillip, have you heard any more from Sandrine about when she and Sharktooth and Maureen will arrive?"
"Yes. We spoke a little while ago. A friend of Sharktooth's will fly the three of them in from Dominica on the afternoon of Mario's birthday. Sandrine's planning to catch a LIAT flight from Martinique to Dominica that morning."
"Excellent. Then we will all be together for the big moment."
****
Lupita Vidal was dressed for nightclubbing when she emerged from the elevator lobby into the underground garage in her condo building. As she covered the 25 meters between the lobby doors and her car, she pressed the unlock button on her electronic key fob.
The interior lights on her car came on and she heard the soft chirp of the access system announcing that the car was unlocked. As she reached for the driver's side door handle, she sensed movement behind her. Whirling, she adopted a defensive stance, dropping her purse and stiffening her hands.
A slight figure about her own height stood no more than a foot from her. The dark clothing and the balaclava told her everything she needed to know. She tried to shift her right foot back to give herself room to strike, but her car blocked her movement. She lunged toward her attacker, thrusting against the car with her hips, putting her weight behind her right hand, which was bent back at the wrist for a heel-of-palm strike to her opponent's nose.
She realized she was a fraction of a second too slow when she lost the feeling in her right arm. Unsure what had happened, she rolled slightly to her left, preparing to drive the stiffened fingers of her left hand into the other person's solar plexus. Her right arm hung at her side, useless.
This time, she saw the blow coming, but the arc was too short for her to react. She caught a glimpse of braided black leather milliseconds before the blackjack struck her left shoulder. She felt no pain, but now her left arm was numb, too, dangling by her side.
Undeterred, she rolled to the right, raising her left foot, preparing for a short kick to the other person's kneecap. Unable to use her arms, Lupita couldn't block the blow to the big muscle in her upper left thigh. She leaned against her car, balanced on her right leg, helpless.
"What's this about?" she asked.
"David Ortiz," the masked attacker said, grabbing the left shoulder-strap of Lupita's cocktail dress and casually pulling her off balance, chuckling as Lupita crashed to the pavement.
"You bitch!" Lupita screeched, furious at having been taken down by another woman, one who appeared to weigh well under her own 139 pounds. "Who are you?"
"No es importante, grilla," the woman said, smashing the blackjack into Lupita's right thigh. "Comemierda, puta palestina!"
With all four limbs numb, Lupita screamed in anger and
frustration when the woman raised the blackjack again.
"Cállate, tortillera!" the woman barked, shifting her position and landing a brutal blow on Lupita's nose. She laughed as Lupita choked on her own blood, the scream cut off by her gagging.
"Ahora, trabajo," the slight woman said, as she began to methodically hammer every muscle in Lupita's body.
****
Lupita went into shock not long after that, but the beating continued until every square inch of Lupita's body was bruised. The woman was thorough and experienced; she knew from her own mishaps that Lupita would be weeks recovering from the first few blows. Her intention was that her victim would spend months in physical therapy before she could think about walking unassisted, let alone practicing martial arts.
For all her thoroughness, the woman worked quickly. In less than three minutes, she pocketed the blackjack and walked to the vehicle exit. She'd spotted the security cameras earlier, when she'd slipped into the garage by scurrying behind another resident's car. Once past the cameras, she rolled the balaclava up over her face so that it looked like a stocking cap.
Careful to keep her blonde curls tucked underneath, she stepped out onto the sidewalk and walked away into the darkness, whistling a sailor's hornpipe. Her hands in the pockets of her dirty black jeans, she could have been mistaken for one of the many lost souls who wander the streets of South Beach after dark.
****
Cruz sat in the dimly lighted club, listening to the jazz combo and nursing his drink. He looked at his watch, growing more worried by the minute. Lupita should have arrived half an hour ago. Unlike most women of his acquaintance, Lupita was rarely late, at least for appointments with him. He was due to call Maldonado in a couple of hours with the latest update on Ortiz and Berger.
He'd been too busy to talk to Lupita this afternoon when she'd called, so he'd agreed to take her out for dinner to hear her report. Not that he minded; she was easy on the eyes, and they'd enjoyed a casual, no-strings relationship for several years. From her flirtatious tone earlier, he'd been looking forward to the next installment in their ongoing exploration of the world of bondage.
Forty minutes, he noted when he looked at his watch again. Something was definitely wrong. He checked to see if his phone was turned on and saw he'd missed a call from Tony Santos. He hadn't felt the phone vibrate; he'd set it to silent mode, not wanting to attract attention in the quiet, upscale jazz club.
Santos managed Cruz's low-rent properties, as well as Cruz's other, less savory interests in Little Haiti. As far as anyone knew, Santos was an independent, somewhat shady entrepreneur. Cruz was an invisible, silent investor. Besides handling rough work for Santos, Lupita was their go-between. Santos and Cruz rarely spoke to one another, hiding their relationship, depending on her to carry messages back and forth. Her absence and the call from Santos could well mean trouble.
Looking around the club to see if anyone was within earshot, Cruz decided to risk a call from his table. Santos answered immediately.
"Manny?" Santos answered.
"What? Why'd you call?"
"She's in trouble."
"Where is she?"
"Mount Sinai. The emergency room called me. My card was in her purse."
"What happened? Accident? She okay, or what?"
"No accident. Somebody beat the shit out of her. She's okay. Semi-conscious, but they say that's mostly from the pain medication."
"Who did it? Where?"
"In the basement garage at her place, when she was gettin' in the car. She don't know who. Woman, about her height, wiry and fast. Only said a few words, Cuban Spanish, like a native."
"Any idea why?"
"She asked what it was about before the woman tore into her. All she said was, 'David Ortiz.' Other than that, just a bunch of Cuban curses."
"Jesus. What kind of woman could get the drop on Lupita?"
"My papa always said, 'It don't matter how tough you are; there's always somebody tougher.'"
"Yeah, I hear you. Anything else?"
"Yeah. She said the woman used a blackjack; knew exactly where to hit. She hit her four times and immobilized her. After that, she worked her over from the neck right down to the soles of her feet. Rolled her over; got the front and the back. Never hit her on the head, except to break her nose so she couldn't scream. She meant to punish her."
"Sounds like a pro of some kind. I never heard of anybody using a blackjack lately."
"Me neither. ER doc says she's got months of physical therapy ahead of her. Serious muscle damage. Like she said, whoever it was knew what the fuck she was doin'."
"Who could be behind it? She been crossways with anybody in the rentals that could have done this?"
"Not that I know of. You don't buy the story about Ortiz?"
"Ortiz would piss his pants just hearing about this, Tony."
"He been into anything might cause somebody to want to get your attention, maybe?"
"I don't think so. We got him tied up in something right now -- nothing that might cause this kind of thing."
"What do you want me to do?" Santos asked.
"Take care of her. Tell her I'll catch up with her soon. I got my hands full right now with her out of commission."
"Okay, then. See ya," Santos said.
"Yeah," Cruz said, disconnecting the call. He put the phone back in his pocket and waved for the check.
****
Chapter 10
David Ortiz was surprised by the tapping on his door so late at night. Normally, no one except Lupita would be visiting him, and he knew she'd gone out with Manny Cruz. She claimed it was to report on their progress with Dani Berger, but he knew what she and Cruz were doing in their spare time.
As he approached the door, he wondered who it could be. He kept his conquests away from his apartment. He was prepared to make an exception with Berger, but he would relocate after he was done with that piece of work. And she didn't have his address yet. He put an eye to the peephole, stunned when he saw Manny Cruz. Cruz appeared to be alone; there was no sign of Lupita.
Ortiz turned the deadbolt and opened the door. "Hello, Manny. I thought -- "
"Let me in, first," Cruz said, stepping forward, crowding him.
"Sure. Come in," Ortiz said, stepping back and swinging the door wide.
Cruz entered and jerked the door from Ortiz's hand, pushing it closed behind him. "You and Lupita into something I don't know about?" he asked, continuing to crowd into Ortiz's personal space, backing him against the wall in the small entryway.
Ortiz blanched, frowning and shaking his head. "No! I -- "
"You been fuckin' somebody on the side?" Cruz growled. "Somebody we don't know about?"
"No, Manny. I haven't been doing anything like that since Lupita put me on this Dani Berger thing."
Cruz stared at him for several long seconds, studying him, watching him tremble.
"B-believe me, Manny! Honest, I haven't been doing anything except what she told me since -- "
"You been fuckin' Lupita?" Cruz barked.
Ortiz swallowed hard, and the trembling increased. He shook his head and tried to utter a denial, but he only succeeded in making unintelligible sounds.
Cruz grinned, watching for a moment before he said, "Relax, David." His tone of voice was almost pleasant, no longer threatening. "I don't care if you and Lupita are screwing one another. I know what she is; she's hot. I wouldn't blame you, if she gave you the chance. I just need to know. One of you has pissed off somebody. Somebody with some serious juice, kid."
"N-no, Manny. I swear. She teases the shit out of me, but that's as far as it gets. What's wrong?"
"What makes you think something's wrong?" Cruz asked, his tone still affable.
Ortiz had calmed down somewhat. "I thought she was supposed to have dinner with you, update you on the Berger thing."
"She tell you that?"
"Yeah. Yeah, she did. She said you couldn't talk with her this afternoon when she called. I was t
ryin' to get Berger to invite me into the compound tonight, and Lupita was gonna call me later, after you guys had dinner. She figured you'd take her to your place afterward."
"She figured that, did she? And she told you?" Cruz shook his head. "She tell you about what she did with me?"
Ortiz went pale again. "No. Just kind of hints that you two were ... um ... "
"Crazy bitch," Cruz said. "If she told you that, did she ever tell you if she was gettin' it on with anybody else?"
"No," Ortiz said, the color returning to his face. "As far as I know, she didn't have anybody else. At least not right now."
"How about recently? Like in the last few months?"
"I don't know, Manny. Nobody she told me about."
"Did she usually tell you who she was dating?"
"Not who, except for you. But she'd let me know when she was doin' somebody. It's part of the way she likes to tease me. I don't think she was seeing anybody recently. Where is she?"
"The emergency room. Somebody jumped her when she was on her way to meet me earlier."
Ortiz gulped. "She okay?"
"Yeah, more or less. They fucked her up pretty bad, though. She's out of action for several months, probably."
"A street gang, or what?"
"No street gang. A Cuban woman with a blackjack beat the shit out of her."
"Jesus!" Ortiz said. "One woman? That's fuckin' unbelievable, man. I've seen Lupita -- "
"Yeah, yeah. I know. Me too. Listen, Ortiz. When they first got crossways, Lupita asked the woman what she wanted, what it was about. And the woman said your name."
"My name? That's it? Nothing else?"
"Nothing else. Then she hit Lupita a few times to paralyze her and went to work on her."
"How could one woman ... was she what, some kind of Amazon, or something?"
"Not from what Lupita said. About her own height, and skinny. Bitch knew what she was doing. This wasn't any random thing. She had to be a pro, to give Lupita that kind of beating without killing her. It was deliberate and methodical. She was sending a message."
"What message, Manny? I don't get it."
"Me, either, kid. I was hoping maybe you had some idea what the fuck was going on."
"Me? Uh-uh. You said she was Cuban?"
Bluewater Revolution: The Twelfth Novel in the Bluewater Thriller Series - Mystery and Adventure in Florida, Cuba, and the Caribbean (Bluewater Thrillers Book 12) Page 8