Chapter 14
Adrenaline coursed through Linc's body as he drove to work the next morning, his shoulder holster pressed against his side as a reminder of the mission tonight. All the meticulous groundwork on his ops plan was set and would soon pay off.
His thoughts briefly turned to Isabel, wishing he’d been able to talk to her instead of texting her that he wouldn’t be able to make it for dinner tonight. Maybe it was for the best; she would have only started asking questions. She was like a hound, sniffing trouble before it even began. He didn’t want to worry her by being cryptic, but he also didn’t want to lie to her.
He doggedly put her out of his mind and concentrated on the day ahead. He was a damned good cop and wasn’t going to let any distraction ruin his concentration and put his men at risk. This was one of many drug busts he had orchestrated, planning every move with painstaking precision. The Figueroa brothers were monsters, known for killing and dismembering their enemies and tossing them in dumpsters. He needed to bring them down.
Clay and Jenny were already waiting in his office when he arrived.
"Ramirez and Estrada just set up a deal with our two Hondurans," Jenny said.
"Good." Linc exchanged a meaningful glance with Clay, who had worked with him many times. Their combined skills in the martial arts made them formidable partners. Linc had complete trust in the hardened warrior and they’d formed a close friendship outside of work.
"We're going fishing tonight," Linc said to Clay who responded with a thumbs-up signal. He was a man of few words, a skilled detective who displayed fierce loyalty and consistent reliability.
Linc turned to Jenny. "Contact the SWAT team and confirm Operation Rattlesnake is a go tonight and have back-up units ready."
"I’m on it," Jenny replied. She and Clay walked out of Linc's office discussing the numerous preparations previously agreed upon to ensure a successful drug bust.
Much later, tension mounted in the car as Linc drove to the warehouse area along the Miami River with Clay beside him. The moonless night was pitch black and oppressively humid with ominous clouds. An electrical undercurrent crackled in the air and a dense metallic smell permeated Linc’s flared nostrils as he parked the old pickup truck in a near vacant lot.
A steady light drizzle dampened their shirts as they headed toward the fishing boat on the pier dressed as local fishermen in baggy shirts and cotton pants. Linc wiped the sweat and rain off his brow. It was hotter than usual with the bulletproof vest underneath his shirt. He patted the sawed-off pump shotgun he wore in a sling next to his ribcage. He had his Glock compact .23 pistol in a hip holster and his Smith & Wesson snubnose revolver strapped to his ankle above the old pair of boat shoes he wore.
He nudged Clay, subtly nodding toward the dilapidated warehouse at a distance where undercover agents Ramirez and Estrada strode inside carrying briefcases filled with one hundred thousand dollars for the buy-bust. The handles on their briefcases were bugged with tiny transmitters connected to Linc and Clay, and the SWAT team.
Two code words had been agreed upon. The takedown signal was "interesting”. When Estrada or Ramirez said it, they would know the officers were in need of taking protective action for themselves. The other code word was "fantastic” meaning it was a done deal and they should move in for arrests.
At the entrance of the warehouse, two brutish bodyguards met Detectives Estrada and Ramirez. The bodyguards searched them for firearms or bugs before they took them for a short walk to an adjacent warehouse. Estrada coolly entered the second warehouse through a side door beside Ramirez. He was the senior agent and felt responsible for Ramirez, who had less experience.
The stale stench of beer and acrid cigar smoke filled the room as a teeming crowd of mostly men encircled a cockfight about to begin. Estrada heard cash bets exchanged amid the rising cloud of dirt formed by the cocks frenziedly flapping their wings against the dirt floor. Beady eyes locked on their opponents, the cocks jerked their heads from side to side clawing each other with the tiny metal spurs attached to their claws. Loud, rabid cheers of "Vamos! Vamos!" rose up as the crowd pushed and shoved for a better look at the fight.
Ramirez and Estrada slipped unobtrusively past them up a metal stairwell to the second floor office, where the Figueroa twin brothers were waiting, stone-faced. The bodyguards stood at the door holding Uzi machine guns.
"I was afraid we'd have trouble when I saw the cock fight down below," Estrada said, shaking hands with Hector and Carlos, the lethal twin Figueroa brothers. Hector was barrel chested and taller than Carlos and he walked with a noticeable stoop from a previous back injury. Carlos always wore a black cowboy hat and a black leather vest that covered his handgun. In their early forties, the men were not identical in personality or appearance, but they were equally cunning and ruthless.
Hector’s black eyes burned in his broad, swarthy face. "We did it on purpose, amigo,” he said with a derisive snort. “Nobody will think anything if they see us leaving with this cage." He indicated a metal cage used for transporting the fighting roosters.
Estrada smiled and drawled, “Interesting.”
Hector Figureoa opened a large duffel bag stuffed with small bags of cocaine. "Take a look. Ninety-eight percent pure from Colombia," he boasted.
Estrada tasted the cocaine to check if it was pure. “Pure llello,” he said using urban slang. He and Ramirez counted the bags to make sure they’d delivered the goods as planned.
“Twenty-five thousand per kilo and there’s four kilos,” Carlos Figueroa said, eyeing Estrada with narrowed eyes. “You got the dough?”
“It’s all here,” Estrada confirmed. Nodding to Ramirez, he opened the two briefcases and allowed the Figueroa brothers to count the cash.
Hector grunted in satisfaction. He and Carlos swiftly stashed the money in the cage and covered it with an old blanket. He handed the empty briefcases back to Estrada. Estrada and Ramirez made short work of filling the briefcases with the stash of bags.
When they snapped the lids shut, Hector thrust the empty duffel bag at one of the bodyguards. "Get rid of this in the dumpster and meet us downstairs."
The bodyguard left immediately, leaving Estrada and Ramirez with the Figueroa brothers and the second bodyguard.
“Fantastic. Until the next deal, bros,” Estrada said, shaking Hector’s and Carlos’s slimy hands.
Hector exchanged a look with Carlos and rubbed his chin.
Lightning ripped across the black sky and thunder boomed instantly behind it. Linc and Clay were soaked and wired for action. Through the transmitters, they heard the sounds of the cockfight and then the contrasting silence of the cramped office as the drug dealers counted money, and Estrada and Ramirez examined the cocaine.
The drizzle intensified into a squalling rainstorm as Linc strained to hear the garbled words on the transmitter. "Damn it, there's interference. I heard Estrada say ‘interesting’ earlier, did you hear him say ‘fantastic”?" he demanded.
"No, my fucking transmitter just died," Clay grated irritably.
"Let's go, Gator," Linc grunted. He radioed the SWAT team and told them to swarm in and arrest Hector and Carlos.
He and Clay raced toward the warehouse on the slick, tar-stained street. “Take the entrance. I’ll go round to the back," Linc said.
Clay nodded, easily sprinting beside him.
Linc bolted to the back of the building, his Glock pistol in hand. He watched a burly man head toward the back stairs carrying a duffel bag and an Uzi. Another man was waiting for him near a dumpster.
Linc pointed the Glock at the brawny man running down the stairs and yelled, “Freeze!” When he saw Linc, the perp immediately opened fire and threw the duffel bag over the stairs. Firing at Linc and two SWAT team guys behind him, he ran down the remaining steps.
Linc shot the burly guy in the neck and quickly ducked behind a rank dumpster as another man came running out, shooting repeatedly as he attempted to escape. Linc aimed, fired back and shot him, g
runting in satisfaction when the perp stumbled and fell to the ground.
A swarm of scumbags ran out of the warehouse, hauling cages and bags and shooting randomly. Their expletive shouts intensified as Linc and the SWAT team showered them with bullets with several being hit. Hearing a shot behind him, Linc whirled around to find one of the men closing in on him, gun in hand.
Shit, he was down to one bullet. He aimed and fired with a rock steady hand, but the heavy pelting rain blurred his vision. His bullet caught the man in the shoulder. Linc moved in, pushing off of his left leg and delivering a flying sidekick to the man's stomach that knocked him to the ground.
Out of nowhere a bullet hit Linc’s left leg, the force of it knocking him to the ground. Clutching his thigh, he roared as agonizing pain seared his entire leg. He squinted against the black sheets of rain. Where the fuck were the Figueroa brothers?
A crowd scrambled out of the warehouse, and Linc saw Ramirez and Estrada get caught in the crossfire. Drenched in rain, sweat, and blood, Linc pulled his other weapon, the sawed-off shotgun, from the sling and staggered to his feet cursing rabidly when he saw Estrada get shot in the neck as he exited the warehouse.
Linc braced his weight on his good leg and fired a round of bullets at Estrada's assailant. He staggered several times, his heaving lungs scorched from the pungent gunpowder. Grappling for air, his body hit the ground with a sickening thud. He struggled to remain conscious and forced his stinging eyes to stay open.
A whirring sound came from above. Linc squinted at the sky through the blinding rain and saw a helicopter circling above before pitch darkness overcame him.
Chapter 15
Strong antiseptic odors assailed Isabel’s nostrils when she entered the hospital. Disturbing images of bloody, wounded men invaded her mind like a modern day Armageddon. She stopped and squeezed her eyes, forcing the images away. She had to be strong for Linc.
When Detective Jenny Wilkins had called, she told Isabel that Linc had suffered a minor wound, but Isabel couldn’t help wondering if she’d downplayed it at his request. He’d been shot in the line of duty, that’s all she’d needed to learn to go numb with fear for his life.
Sucking in deep breaths, she forced her trembling legs to lead her to the information desk where she asked what room Linc had been assigned to. She rode in the elevator with her heart in her throat and a tense knot in her stomach.
When she reached his room, she found it was empty. She sank down in a chair and rubbed her forehead tiredly, trying to dispel the questions haunting her. What if there had been complications? A high fever or an infection? For all she knew, Linc might be battling for his life. She had to find out.
Please, God, make him be okay, she prayed fervently as she walked to the nurses' station. A male nurse with a nametag that said Raymond was manning the computer and the phone. He told Isabel between calls that Linc was in the recovery room. Isabel returned to his room and paced until a middle-aged, thin man with a narrow face and wire-rimmed glasses walked in wearing green scrubs.
“Hello, I am Dr. Myers. Nurse Raymond said you were asking about Detective Heller. Are you a member of the family?”
“Hello, Dr. Myers.” Isabel shook his hand. “I'm Isabel Garcia. Detective Heller’s…um…girlfriend. How is he?" she asked, her voice cracking.
"In stable condition," he said, his brown eyes somber. “He is one lucky guy.”
Lucky? Pinpricks of relief edged up and down Isabel’s cold arms. "What part of his leg was wounded? Was it bad?"
"He got shot in the upper thigh. A bullet went in and out without damaging the bone, but it hit a major blood vessel. We placed a tourniquet on it to stem the flow of blood and started an IV. As soon as he responded favorably, he was taken to surgery for exploration."
Isabel wrung her hands, her eyes entreating Dr. Myers. "Will he be able to walk again?"
"I believe so. He’s lucky the bullet didn't go in higher. Very lucky. It's not the type of wound to cripple him, but he will need physical therapy." Dr. Myers retrieved a card from his pocket. "Here's my card if you need to contact me. I'll examine him on my rounds tomorrow morning and if his vitals are okay, I’ll give the order to release him."
"That’s wonderful news. Thank you so much, doctor." She placed his card in her wallet. "When can I see him?"
"They’ll bring him in any moment now. Good bye, Miss Garcia."
When he left, Isabel sat down and prayed as she waited, but it was hard concentrating because she kept remembering Dr. Myer's words. He’s lucky the bullet didn't go in higher. Linc had narrowly escaped being killed. Her body quaked at the harsh reality. She felt like crying and vomiting at once, but she somehow managed to tamp down the rising bile.
A half an hour later, Linc was wheeled into the room. Two athletic male nurses lifted him from the gurney onto the bed and adjusted his IV. He barely responded to their questions, keeping his eyes closed and breathing laboriously.
Isabel rushed to his side when they left. Carefully avoiding the IV, she gently embraced him, cradling his head against her bosom. Tenderness welled up in her chest as she crooned, "Linc, mi amor. Talk to me. Say something. Please."
Her heart ached at seeing him so weak and vulnerable in the hospital bed. He was usually robust and dynamic, but his sun-bronzed face appeared deathly pale as he breathed strenuously. She couldn't bear to see him suffer. Her eyes lovingly roamed every line of his rugged face. In her mind, she saw his crooked grin, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he teased her, and the smolder in his eyes before he made love to her.
Let me love you, sweet baby. Remembering those words spoken in his deep, tender voice made her feel more desperate. Her gaze dropped to the large bandage around his thigh and a gasp escaped her lips. Linc’s eyes fluttered, but remained closed.
Isabel kissed his forehead gently. "Open your eyes, Linc. Dr. Myers said you’re going to be okay." When he didn't respond, she lightly rested her cheek against his and whispered, "I love you, mi amor." Tears gathered at the back of her eyes. She inhaled deeply and blinked against the wetness. She did not want him to wake up and see her crying.
Isabel felt a woman’s hand touch her arm, and she jerked up to find a tall brunette standing before her.
"You must be Isabel,” the young woman said kindly. “I’m Detective Jenny Wilkins, the one who called you earlier.”
“Oh, hi,” Isabel said, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Dr. Myers said the surgical wound exploration was successful."
“Yes, he came in and spoke to me earlier,” Isabel said raggedly, still reeling from her worst nightmare coming true. “I was afraid this might happen one day. Linc could have died."
“But he didn’t. Let’s talk outside.” Detective Wilkins took Isabel's elbow and gently led her into the hall. "Linc is tough as steel. In fact, Steel is his nickname on the force."
"He might be tough as steel, but that didn’t stop the bullet from going in. What if it had hit him any higher?” Isabel asked.
"Well, it’s a good thing it didn’t. Any higher and he’d be a soprano," Detective Wilkins quipped.
Isabel remained silent. She knew the detective was trying to make light of it, but she couldn’t even crack a smile.
Detective Wilkins's amiable smile vanished. "Hey, I'm sorry. I was just trying to lighten things up. I understand you’re scared, but Linc has survived worse, believe me. He is going to be fine."
"I hope you're right, Detective Wilkins."
“Call me Jenny.”
Isabel nodded. "I need to go back. I want to be with him when the anesthesia wears off."
"I understand,” Jenny said. “I'll be at the nurses' station if you need me."
Linc slowly stirred from his deep slumber with images of smoke and gunfire invading his peace. Slowly, a soft floral scent prickled his nostrils and a sense of calmness filled him. "Isabel, is that you, honey?" he said groggily,
“Yes, mi amor," Isabel answered, softly strok
ing his hair. "It’s me."
"Ahhh," he breathed.
"Open your eyes, Linc. You have to fight the anesthesia," Isabel urged.
Linc forced his eyes open, but his vision wasn’t clear. He took a labored breath. "I love you."
"I love you too," he heard her say before he drifted off again.
The following morning, Linc awoke to find Jenny sitting beside him. "Where's Isabel?" he asked immediately.
"She left last night. Said she’d be back this afternoon to drive you home if Dr. Myers releases you today."
"He’d better release me. Does she know what happened?" Linc asked warily.
Jenny nodded.
"How'd she take the news?"
Jenny shrugged. "She’s a bit freaked out, but she'll be all right."
"Tell me about the buy-bust. What did they find in the warehouse? Who did they arrest?"
"The narcs found a load of cocaine hidden in ceramics. They also found an arsenal of Mac lOs, Ruger Mini-14s, and Chinese and Russian AK-47 assault rifles. The coke is worth over five million dollars, street value. It’s ninety-eight percent pure from Colombia.”
“Sick,” Linc grunted.
“But the Figueroa brothers escaped on a boat and disappeared after one of them was wounded."
"Damn it,” he gritted. “Don't tell me they got away!"
Jenny nodded gravely. "The SWAT team stormed their home in Key Biscayne, but it was empty. They had already moved to another location. They got away with the hundred thousand bucks. The dispatcher put out a BOLO, so airports and border patrols have a description. They'll arrest them on sight."
Linc swore between his clenched teeth. A BOLO or be on the lookout status, was all they were working with now and it made his blood boil. "What about Clay? And Estrada and Ramirez?" he demanded tersely.
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