I turned. I smiled. I took a long swallow of my drink. “You know this asshole?”
Norm ordered a beer from Kris and poured some into his plastic cup before answering. “Yeah, I had the pleasure.” He tasted his beer and pushed closer. “He spent time in Central America back in the day.”
“KGB?”
“KGB division that trained the Cuban DGI.”
The KGB helped form and train the Cuban Dirección General de Inteligencia in 1961 and it warned Castro about the CIA-backed Bay of Pigs invasion in 1962.
“He doesn’t look that old?”
“His father…or maybe it was an uncle ran the operation back then,” Norm said. “Alexei visited the island and never wanted to leave the tropics.”
“That was then,” I said. “The Russians pulled out of Cuba a long time ago. What is he now?”
“Now he’s part of a very powerful underworld in Russia,” he said. “Alexei has businesses around the world, but this is the first time I’ve heard of him in the States.”
“All these other agents are jokes.”
“You think so?” Norm said.
“Alexei’s no joke.” I finished my Jameson. “He scares me.”
“He should,” Norm said. “He and your buddy Doyle Mulligan are two of a kind. Cold and methodical. He wants the diamonds and will do whatever it takes to get ‘em.”
“He said they were his, no matter who found them.”
“Believe him.”
I told him about Pauly wanting me to have two guns and extra magazines and, to my surprise once again, Norm thought it was a good idea.
“I talked to Jim Ashe, at JIATF,” he said. “There’s a couple SEALs he’s sending over.”
“I don’t want anyone on me.”
“Two-gun Mick!” He chuckled while shaking his head.
“Pauly’s got guys on me,” I said. “He put a couple on Tita before we left the Tuna. A couple of SEALs would make me feel a lot better if they were protecting her.”
“Those guys were actually glad to see me.” He ignored my comment.
“Good, but I want them to protect Tita. Right?”
“Pauly’s Jar Heads and the SEALs are meeting up and will work out Tita’s detail and without her any the wiser. Okay?”
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “Really glad to see you, huh?” Last time Norm dealt with Captain Jim Ashe of the Joint Inter-Agency Task Force here in Key West, they almost came to blows.
“Well, yeah.” He drained his beer and smiled. “Ashe might not have been excited about seeing me, but a couple of the guys said it’s been real boring.”
“Carpino and Papaccioli?” They were two JIATF men working with us last year.
“And a couple of others.” He waved to Kris and got himself another beer.
“What about me?” I held out my empty cup.
“You don’t need another drink.” He nodded toward the Front Street entrance.
Pauly walked our way carrying an Israeli paratrooper shoulder bag.
Chapter 56
Pauly stopped at the railing bar and waited for us. I ordered another Jameson and a beer for him, while Norm frowned at my decision.
“Thanks.” Pauly took the beer and handed me the shoulder strap to the canvas bag. “Two Sigs, loaded and six extra magazines.” His words were hard to hear over the rowdy bar conversations and amplified music.
The weight of the bag surprised me. I looked at Norm. “You think this is a good idea?”
“Yeah. It might buy you enough time for the cavalry to arrive.” He grinned and shook his head. He and Pauly didn’t see things the same way too often.
“Maybe extra magazines,” I said. “But two Sigs. Kind of overkill, ain’t it?”
“Think of it this way, Mick, you may need to help my guys,” Pauly said knowing Norm had me protected too. “Alexei knows your back’s covered and when he comes for you he’ll have to waste them.”
“And when he solves problems, it tends to get messy,” Norm said not giving Pauly the answer he wanted.
“Give me some ideas, guys,” I said. “After Tita goes back to Boston, I’ll go head-to-head with Alexei, if I have to, but what about now?”
“You don’t have the luxury of waiting for Tita to leave. He won’t wait, he’s scheming right now and all we can do is prepare.” Norm said. “What did Alexei say?”
Pauly and I filled Norm in on Alexei’s apology and warning.
Norm scanned the bar, not focusing on anyone for more than a flash. He smiled. “You know what’s saving your sorry ass, hoss?”
“You?” I said between sips of the Jameson.
“No.” He pointed to the Internet camera aimed at the bar. “And the one over there.” He pointed toward a camera mounted above the doors going inside that aimed at the stage. “The place is covered, right? Tourists go home and miss Key West, and they can turn into the Hog’s webcam and watch what’s happening.”
“Just about every bar has them,” Pauly said. “Alexei doesn’t want anything recorded that can come back at him. That’s why he was civil at the Tuna.”
“Right. So that leaves him the street, your boat…” Norm began.
“Tita’s house,” I said. “That’s the gap in her safety.”
“Yeah,” Norm said. “One of them. And you two usually walk there and the streets have no cameras, so there’s another gap.”
I looked toward the webcam mounted near the stage that showed the crowded patio and saw Tita as she walked in with Norm’s friend from the CIA, Chris Stone. You couldn’t miss the red hair.
“You know about this?” I pointed out the women.
“No,” Norm said. “Where are the other two?”
He meant Piersall and Williams. We searched the entrances but didn’t see them.
“It might be an accident,” Norm said. “She’s staying at the Ocean Key. They may have run into each other outside.”
“You believe that?” I said.
“No, but it would be nice if it were true.”
Tita came from the office to the bar and wore jeans and a blouse, her hair pulled tightly into a ponytail. Chris wore another summer dress. Both women were talking as they walked toward us. I looked at Pauly and he nodded.
“She had an escort but didn’t know it,” he said.
Tita kissed me gently on the lips. “Where are the boys?”
She looked around for my usual collection of friends.
“I didn’t know they were invited to dinner,” I said, somewhat surprised at her willingness to include them.
“It was dinner this morning,” she said. “It’s a celebration tonight.”
“What are we celebrating, Counselor?” Norm asked.
“I am out of business and it’s only Monday,” she said. “And I ran into Chris, so now it’s a party.”
“I have to eat, so why not at a party?” Norm said with a squint-eyed look at Chris.
“Are you sure we wouldn’t be imposing?” Chris smiled her woman-understands-all grin at Tita.
“Not at all. Right?” Tita turned to me.
“The more the merrier. Where?” I said.
“El Siboney.”
“I have to excuse myself,” Pauly said. “I hate to miss a party, but I’ve got something to do. Maybe see you later at the Tuna.” He left without finishing his beer.
“El Siboney is fine, but you’ll want to come back because Scotty’s at the Smokin’ Tuna tonight. That’s what Pauly meant.”
“Scotty’s here for the whole week,” Tita said as if she already knew it and let it go. She took my cup, sipped the Irish whiskey and made a face. “What does a lady have to do to get a drink?”
“Two ladies,” Chris said.
Norm and I walked to bar. I didn’t ask what Tita wanted to drink, because I knew. Norm didn’t ask Chris what she wanted to drink and I wondered what that meant but doubted he’d ever explain.
“What’s going on?” I asked as we waited for the drinks.
“Your guess
is as good as mine,” he said.
“You haven’t talked to her? You didn’t tell her we’d be here?”
“I spoke to her early this morning,” he said, turned to look at Chris and Tita and then turned back to the bar. “She was touching base with the Agency’s Cuba desk and wanted to see what chatter there was about the Russians being here. We made no plans for this evening.”
“She doesn’t seem to be someone who’d take a walk for fresh air.”
“Not without a reason.”
“The baseball stars?”
“She’s capable of working without them.”
We took the two drinks and headed back to the railing.
“Is this a good or bad thing?”
“Depends.” Norm handed Chris her gin and tonic. “Good or bad for who?”
There was no more talk about inviting my friends to this celebration, while we finished our drinks. It was going to be the four of us and somehow I felt the women had planned it that way.
“How’d your luncheon go?” Chris spoke to Norm.
“You know the English,” Norm said “Stuffed shirts and hot air.”
“Are they really looking for Dick?” Tita said, her attention on Chris.
“Yeah, there are a lot of similarities between the man they’re looking for and Dick Walsh.”
I noticed she didn’t say “we’re looking for.” It did surprise me that Chris, a CIA operative, would talk openly about the man they were searching for, even in a roundabout way. Especially to Tita, an attorney not involved. From what little Norm had told me, Chris didn’t make mistakes. So, what was this about.
“Tita knows a lot of background on Bulger and his cronies,” I said to enter into the conversation. “She’d met
Walsh down here, too.”
“Makes my skin crawl every time I think about sitting with him.” Tita cringed when she spoke. “Mick left Boston before Bulger caught the spotlight.”
“You believe Walsh is who he says he is?” Chris sipped her drink.
“His real name is Doyle Mulligan and during the ‘80s his name showed up a few times in the papers,” she said. “He’s a street-smart psycho, that’s for sure.”
“Interesting.” Chris smiled. “The man everyone is looking for used many names, none Irish, but he was intelligent. He spoke a number of languages fluently and had the accents down perfectly.” She paused and sipped her drink. “I think the main connection is his age and physical description.”
“And the diamonds make that enough,” Tita said and I could see the wonder in Norm’s expression.
“What do you know about the diamonds?” Norm said.
“Sometimes, Norm, you and the emperor-of-foolishness here talk like I’m not in the room,” she said and both Tita and Chris laughed. “I multitask, so I can be busy and still hear.”
“That’ll teach me,” Norm said.
“Thursday would be a good day for us to go the reef.” Tita said to Chris. “It gives me two days to transfer my files to Nathan and Bob T and then I’m good to go.”
“Thursday works for me,” Chris said. “You coming?” She turned to Norm.
“Are we sailing?”
The three of them turned to me.
“Yeah,” I said. “Thursday works for me.” I realized it would make the Russian’s think I was chasing the diamonds, especially with Norm and a CIA agent on the boat, and that scared me.
Chapter 57
I met Bob and Burt at Schooner Wharf for lunch, so Doug could run over from Conch Marina and join us. We sat upstairs in the poolroom and were almost finished eating. Doug checked his wristwatch constantly.
“You got a date?” I finally asked him.
“I’m waiting on a boat,” he said. “A fifty-foot yawl, so I hope to see it pass the break wall.” He pointed out into the harbor.
“You’ve gotta retire,” Burt said.
“Like the rest of you?” Doug laughed.
“Yeah, semi-retired anyway,” Bob said.
“I get in enough trouble with you guys as it is.”
“Excitement. Think of it as excitement, not trouble,” Burt said.
“When I’m being shot at it’s trouble not excitement,” Doug said, finished his beer and stood up. “Try not to get into any excitement while I’m gone.” He walked out, laughing to himself as he checked the horizon.
“Where’s Norm?” Bob asked.
“Not sure,” I said and pushed my plate away.
“You want us to come along on Thursday?” Bob ate the last of the French fries on his plate.
Alexis brought us another round of beers and cleaned our table. People outside strolled along the boardwalk, staring at the boats and amazed at the size of the swimming tarpon. A small crowd, but it was only Tuesday afternoon.
I explained what had happened last night while we ate lunch and the thing that concerned us the most was the Russians.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve got to figure they’ll think something’s up when they see Chris get on the boat with Norm.”
“Hell, Mick, they don’t have good thoughts when they’re sleeping,” Bob said.
“I don’t think they sleep.” I scratched at the damp label of my Kalik bottle.
A tall, muscular man with dark hair stood at the top of the small stairway that leads down to the bar. He smiled at us, lifted his tropical shirt above his waist, did a three-eighty turn, and then walked to our table. Bob pushed his chair away and I saw him reach under his shirt.
“I come in peace,” the stranger said and sat down.
I felt the new Sig Sauer as I leaned back in my chair. I knew it was there, loaded with one in the chamber, but I needed the reassurance.
“You are Mick Murphy,” he said, but wasn’t asking when he nodded to me. “Let me see, you must be Bob Lynds and who else has a mustache like that on this island but Burt Carroll.”
“You have us at a disadvantage,” I said, sat up straight, and wondered what the hell was going on.
“Yes I do.” He grinned. “You should remember that.”
“You know who we are but we don’t know you.”
“You want to take a little of my advantage away.”
“Just a little,” I said. “So we know who we’re talking to.”
“Michael Sev,” he said without offering his hand. “Your friend Norm has been trying to set up a luncheon between us, but I see no reason to include him.”
“You’re the Mossad agent, then.”
“If you want.” His grin seemed pasted on.
“You’re much too young to be involved in this,” I said. “That makes you, what, a hired gun?”
He shook his head and his grin turned into a soft chuckle. “I am involved. The diamonds belong to me, to Israel.”
“How is that?” I pushed myself up on the chair. He sat back, relaxed and put his hands on the table. “You don’t need guns. I showed you I’m unarmed.”
He had on shorts, so there was no ankle holster, and flip-flops on his feet. He carried no hidden weapon and showed us that when he lifted his shirt and turned in a circle before sitting.
“What do you have against Norm?” Maybe he thought I was an easier target on my own.
“We had a run in a few years ago in Columbia.” His grin went away. “The less I have to do with him the better.”
“You were with the Israeli mercenaries training the rightwing militants.” The fiasco made the papers and the Israeli government assured the world the Mossad was not involved.
“Let’s just say we ended up on two different sides and leave it at that.”
“Okay,” I said and went right into the reason he was sitting with us. “There are two aspects in everyone’s assumptions that are wrong, misconceptions.”
“Enlighten me.” He sat still, his eyes glued on me and that made me wonder who was keeping an eye on Bob and Burt. Someone was, I could feel their gun sights through the French doors.
“The first is that Walsh is the man with the
diamonds, he’s not. Second is you’re chasing the wrong guy,” I said. “Why can’t someone come to me and say ‘Sorry Murphy, we’ve had it wrong and should’ve listened to you.’ Why is that do you think?”
“I can only speak for myself,” he said. “The diamonds belong to me and Israel because my father is the diamond merchant who loaned the ransom to the Israeli government. He was never paid back and I plan to see the family gets its share.”
“The diamonds were to buy documents that would embarrass other governments, not a ransom,” I said but he knew that. “So you weren’t involved, you were too young.”
“My family was involved, it’s the same thing.”
“Are you Mossad or a hired gun?” I asked again, but didn’t expect an honest answer.
“In this case there’s little difference,” he said.
It was my turn to laugh. “Most of the men I’ve talked to are retired and this is… I don’t know, a game to get them out of the house, to make them feel alive again.”
“Not Alexei,” he said. “This is no game to him. When you’ve served your purpose, you’re dead. You have a conga line of people following you. Some, I’m sure, are for your protection, the others I can only guess who they are with, but I do know what they want. The Russians require no guess work.”
“What makes you different from all of them?”
“I’m not a gangster,” he said and pushed away from the table.
Bob and I pushed away.
His comment told me he only considered the Russians as competition.
“You’re too nervous,” he said. “The Russians see that as a weakness.”
“This weakness has kept me alive,” I said and stayed where I was.
“You’ve got nothing to fear from me,” he said and moved back to the table.
“Said the wolf as he approached the herd.”
“You speak Hebrew.” His smile returned.
“No,” I said. “I know Michael is a popular Jewish name and Zev means Wolf. I had Jewish friends in college.”
“Michael is also a popular Irish name,” he said. “I had no Irish friends in school.”
“Who is like God,” I said mentioning the Hebrew meaning of Michael. “Are you God like?”
Stairway to the Bottom - a Mick Murphy Key West Mystery Page 20