Chapter 8
John’s concern seemed to be heightened as they left Rob’s condo to head back to their hotel for the night. McKenzie knew they had a busy day ahead of planning how they were going to get in the warehouse, what to do if things went wrong, and what to do if the kids were put on the yacht and it left the country. Coordinating everything with Chuck and Cliff wouldn’t happen until the next night when they had both arrived and been completely filled in on the situation.
McKenzie was still focusing on everything that needed to be planned when he noticed John darting his gaze between the mirrors. He was used to John getting nervous, especially as the situation heated up, so he tried to ignore his friend’s PTSD-driven habits. Eventually, John turned to glance out the back window and then looked at McKenzie.
“We’re being followed,” John said simply as he sat back in his seat and watched the mirror on the passenger side.
“Are you sure?” McKenzie turned down a side street as he spoke, and the headlights followed. “Okay, maybe.”
“They started following us a few streets after we got on Biscayne Boulevard. They must have been waiting for us. They ran a red light and haven’t been back more than three car lengths at all times.”
“Shit.” McKenzie tried to think, but his lack of knowledge of the city was difficult to overcome.
“Honesty, go to the police department or the Fed building or something. We can tell them we are looking into a case and some guys are following us. Honesty can be the best policy sometimes.” John spoke with a matter of fact tone, causing greater annoyance for McKenzie.
McKenzie knew their choices were limited. He could take them to Rob’s condo or their hotel. If he went to a police station, they may keep going or wait up somewhere. The idea of spending a night in the truck when his sleep was already suffering did not appeal to McKenzie, but with a sigh of resignation, he headed to the police station on NW 2nd Avenue, following the directions of the GPS.
Pulling into the police lot on the north side of the building, McKenzie phoned Rob and told him the situation. As he figured, Rob did have a couple of friends in the department. McKenzie told him where they were parked and waited for someone to come out to the truck. Within ten minutes, a tall thin man in a grey suit with a bald head and sure step headed towards the truck. McKenzie rolled down the window as he approached.
“McKenzie Ford, I presume?” The officer kneeled down to look in the window, “I’m Detective Marshall. Rob Andrew called me and said you were having some issues with a tailgater?”
“Sort of. I’m a licensed P.I. doing some work for Mr. Andrew and tonight we had a vehicle follow us shortly after we left his residence. They’re parked around the corner. It’s the black Cadillac SUV between the blue GMC truck and the white Chevy Impala. They ran a red light and stayed a few car lengths back as we made various turns.” McKenzie spoke carefully, unsure of what he should and should not say.
“Rob said you boys are working on something that may have a bit of a reveal for me in a few days, something about the returning Mendez crew?”
“Something like that.”
“Tell you what. I have a suspicious vehicle report put out on them, see if we can’t hold them up. You guys might want to find somewhere else to park the truck or get a rental. These boys have their goons and they’ll track the truck down within a few hours.”
“I’ll see what I can do. And if you want to give me your direct line, I may need to make a phone call to you in a day or two, maybe get you a good promotional bust.”
The detective stared at McKenzie for a second before nodding. As he stood, he paused, turning back to the open window.
“You know what; I’ll trade vehicles with you. I know Rob and we go back a long ways, and I’ve heard quite a bit about you. You take my car for the night, but get it back, unscathed, by tomorrow. Here are the keys. It’s a dark blue Fusion right over there. My cell number is on the fob. And make sure you do call me, if you end up with anything. Rob kinda owes me something after a demotion he got me several years ago, and I could use a good hand back up the ladder even though things have worked out pretty well for me. I’ll take your truck to the inside lot.”
McKenzie nodded, feeling almost touched that his friend had that kind of weight that it could flow over to him, but was curious as to what had occurred that would simultaneously help and harm this man’s career. He knew he would be calling Detective Marshall, and the man would be getting get the bust of his lifetime.
McKenzie gave his own keys to the officer before shaking hands and driving out of the lot in the Fusion. A baseball cap from the seat was on his head and John had lain down in the back seat. The goons in the Cadillac saw one guy, different car, no problem.
Back at the hotel, John was jumpy as they entered their room. McKenzie felt the adrenaline building up inside, the same feeling that kept him on his toes so many years ago. He also knew he wasn’t going to sleep much that night and he sure wasn’t going to risk drugging himself to sleep with the possibility of Lorenzo’s men finding them. John kept checking out the window and then making sure the door was locked, to the point McKenzie had to bite his tongue to keep from yelling at him to sit his ass down. Eventually the day took its toll and McKenzie drifted into a fitful sleep.
The Old Farts In Miami Page 12