Miami's Forgotten

by Matt Lincoln

  “I’m doing well. And you? You’re not overexerting yourself, are you?” Her tone wasn’t one of major concern, and I had the mental image of George watching her and prodding her to ask this, and that she was only asking me this for his sake.

  “No, I’m doing fine. I promise,” I chuckled. “So, I got your text, and uh, what’s going on? ‘You have a favor to ask if I’m interested?’ What’s that about?” I had no clue and needed the clarity before I agreed to more.

  “Oh, yeah!” There was a sudden burst of fervor in her voice. “My friends, well, my colleagues, are hosting an art exhibition tomorrow night, and I wanted to invite you to join me.” Of all the things I had thought she’d be asking, that was nowhere on my list. It took me completely by surprise.

  I took a second to think about it and figured that it couldn’t hurt to get out more. “I have a few questions. What time does it start? Is it black tie, and if not, what is the dress code? Am I expected to donate or buy, and if so, what’s the range so that I know enough not to look cheap? And is this your way of asking me out, Verity?” I had thrown all of that in there on purpose and for a little mischievous fun on my end.

  It had the desired response. Verity was silent for longer than I thought she’d be. But then, she found her voice again and began to answer me. “Um, what would you say if this was my way of asking you out, Jake?” Her voice was smaller and maybe even a little worried about what my answer was going to be.

  “I would say ‘well done’ and ‘yes.’” I could hear nothing from her on the other end. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or not. “But I still need to have the other questions answered, too, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure, of course!” There was a pause before she started up again. “Um, I forgot most of them, but, yes, it is black tie. Is that a problem?” I could practically hear her holding her breath in worry and anxiety.

  “No, it is not.” That was all I was going to say. “And donation or purchase required or expected?” People didn’t hold an exhibit of artistic work without at least hoping to sell a piece or two. That was my understanding. And besides, if I did see something I liked, I knew that the condo could always use a little fresh style.

  “Not requisite, but appreciated. I think that’s what the invite said.” Verity was moving papers around. I could hear her shuffling things on her end, probably looking for the actual note. “Yes, that’s it. And the time, nine pm until midnight. All sales are final, no refunds, oh, that’s probably not important.” In her uneasiness, she was just reading everything it said.

  “That all sounds good. Do you just want me to pick you up at your dad’s place?” It had been an exceptionally long time since I’d said those words to a potential date, and it made me smile. “Or…?”

  “Yes, please. But dad is letting me borrow his BMW so we can park yours and go in style.” Then I think she heard herself and tried to correct it. “Not that I mean that your vehicle is not---”

  “Verity, I get it.” I shut that down quickly. “Work friends, big impressive event, it’s fine.” I was sure that it was going to be a prestigious type of thing for her. “Anyway, anything else I need to know before tomorrow evening? Or is the business part of the call over and done with? Maybe we could just chat and---” Now it was my turn to be cut off by beeping on her end of the line.

  “Damn it, Jake? I’m going to have to call you back later. That’s Weir. My boss. I’m sorry. Bye!” There was the usual click, and it left me on a lifeless and blank line. Oh well, that left me more time to cruise the water.

  I made a couple of other quick calls about money, and then I got back to myself and Wraith. It felt great to get her out again and to feel the freedom of the open water. I coasted by the furthest out harbors, taking note of certain ships that caught my eye now and again. Luckily, I was paying attention when I saw a flashbang go off on one of the larger ones.

  I was close enough to hear yelling and orders being screamed out. I helmed Wraith closer to get a better look and turned on the cameras to record the scene. From my vantage point, I could see a dozen or so black jacketed agents flooding the ship, and I heard a few muffled gunshots, most likely fired below decks. There was more yelling, and a closer look identified the black jacket agents as DEA. The bottom fell out of my entire plan for the day. If it involved the DEA, I wanted to know who else it might involve, too.

  I turned up the sonar as high as I could get it and aimed it directly at the orange and white ship where all the action was happening. I headed in as close as I dared in the hopes that I could catch something worth the risk. Sure enough, I was able to single out a few words.

  I was recording everything anyway and would send it to Xavier, later on, to see if he could learn more from it, but at the moment, it was your typical takedown procedures, threats, bribes, and the like. The DEA was easy to discern, as they all were yelling in American accents. What caught me off guard were a few of the responses. I could clearly identify Spanish phrases of “No me dispares!” meaning don’t shoot me. Then another bit similar to the first. “Não dispares!” That was Portuguese.

  The yelling phrases seemed to be heeded, as I didn’t hear any more gunshots being fired. The rest was all orders to ‘sit down,’ or ‘shut up,’ that sort of thing. The agents were speaking in Spanish now, most of them anyway, but I could tell the agent’s accents from the apprehended people. I wished that I could see inside that ship. I would have loved to know what they’d seized from there.

  I found a fairly decent place to wait, if only for a few minutes. The dock had been cleared of all unnecessary tourism and employees, which left the pier and walkways free from extra eyes on Wraith. I hid her behind a couple of larger boats with the idea of making a quick escape if I needed to.

  A couple of agents resurfaced and were talking on cells on separate calls. It was near impossible to hear them, so instead, I focused on their identification by zooming in with my binoculars. The male agent was a huge guy, maybe six foot seven if I was just guessing. The embroidered name on the left jacket flap read ‘D. Keim.’

  I took notice of his black hair, medium skin tone, and muscular hands. One hand dwarfed his cell up at his ear. He wore sunglasses that blocked a lot of his features except that chin, cleft and square, almost like a character from some nineteen fifties cartoon. He would be easily recognizable to me if I needed to remember or identify him at a later date.

  The other was a woman with a bad sunburn and a terribly angry grimace on her face. Her hair was brown with the proof of a red dye job fading out toward the ends. She squinted out in my direction, but not exactly at me. I hoped that it stayed that way. Leaving now on Wraith would draw too much attention from her.

  Her name was sewn as ‘M. Castiglioni.’ Her call was much more animated than the guy’s, but she turned just enough to keep her hand in front of her mouth and phone. No lip reading for me, it seemed, so I went back to the guy, hoping for some clues as to his conversation.

  He was smiling and on a much less stressful end of a dialogue. I picked up enough and jotted it down on a dry erase board installed on the pull-out console. I owed Xavier a big apology. I laughed him off the boat when he suggested it the first time, and now, I was eating crow.

  Agent Keim was mentioning the shipment, and… he was going back and forth on the amount seized. He said eight-hundred pounds, then he was arguing against seven hundred as the total. It didn’t take long for me to understand that there was a percentage being dropped from any official report or account. Damn it if the guy wasn’t dirty.

  I switched to Agent Castiglioni, hoping to get verification or something else from her. She’d finally moved her line of vision away from me, and this left her mouth and speech open for me to view. I read an argument, heated and accelerating. I saw her lips form around the name Keim. At least I thought that I had. Her eyes darted angrily toward him, and it connected with me that she was complaining about him in some fashion.

  She was shaking her head and getting
cut off from voicing her opinion. Whatever that was. Her mouth would open to protest and then close without a sound. I knew the sight of a losing argument when I saw it, even from this far away. I would bet that she was getting told off by a superior, too.

  Her eyes were still on Agent Keim, and I turned back to him. He was laughing off and on. So apparently, the conversation had turned from work related to more personal anecdotes or stories. So, I scanned the rest of the deck and saw a few other agents bringing up crates, all wrapped and secured well from my prying eyes.

  From what I could see, though, it looked like it might have been food or perishable items. It used the type of airtight preservation methods used by foodservice and compacted tightly for freshness control. My mind raced toward illegal, non-regulated meat or spices. On another note, George’s warning sounded loud and clear, as well. Manufactured medicinal goods being brought into the US for that drug. This was exactly the kind of stuff I had been hoping to find. That was what this actually was. There was no way for me to tell unless they opened it and flashed the objects around. And I knew that wasn’t likely to happen.

  All I could do was send all the footage and intel to Xavier, have him analyze it, and hope that something was visible from a closer examination. I stayed for a while longer until the traffic on the dock started to pick up again, and it became too dangerous for Wraith to stick around. I wasn’t about to have her get noticed and filmed or photographed, so I hit the open water again.

  I made my call to Mr. Padilla about his marina and came away from that with a good feeling about it. He sounded very enthused on the phone to find someone who was interested in and could appreciate his marina. We didn’t chat for long, but we both got a feel for one another, and that was enough for now. Once that was accomplished, I got back to my kind of business.

  I tagged a few other ships and boats lurking about in harbors or just outside in the bay that experience and recon had trained me to see as suspicious. One, in particular, was flying a Columbian flag. It changed course twice and headed North, away from Miami. I followed for a few knots and then tapered off. I wasn’t going to find anything from a boat that was running away from me.

  I waited until nightfall before I headed back anywhere close to the seized ship. It was swarmed now and lit up like a cruise ship. I avoided it entirely and made my way back to the current marina to put Wraith in for the night. There was a lot that I needed a second pair of eyes on, so I sent everything on to Xavier and copied Doc and Rosa in on as well. Time would tell if I’d gotten anything of merit to explore.

  10

  Jake

  I got a text from Xavier first thing that morning letting me know that I should check my email ASAP. I pulled it up once I woke up enough and had a cup of coffee in hand. He had sent me a couple of security camera shots from around the area that I’d canvassed on foot two nights ago. I didn’t recognize them offhand, but a few of the storefronts and business names looked familiar to me.

  I got my first clear view of a trio of people, all three looking very out of place and up to no good in the darkened streets. Xavier had blown up facial images as best he could, which would prove to be a tremendous help in the future. I started with the big guy.

  He had dark hair, was clean cut, and wore a crisp white shirt in the still pictures. If I had to guess, I’d say that he was the Indian man. He was definitely the muscle of the group. From this, it was impossible to tell more about him, so I moved on.

  The other man was next, and there was a nice resolution to his photo. He had on that long coat that the kid in the park had mentioned. He should have been a little guy, but I couldn’t tell that from any of these close-up images. I’d have to look through what Xavier had sent and try to verify that later.

  This guy, the European I presumed, was a small featured man with an almost delicate notion to his face and hands. I didn’t know what his part in this could be. I thought back to the kid with the puffer jacket in the park. This was the guy that hired the teens as runners. So, he might be the head of the organization, or at least trusted enough to work in their stead.

  The last of the three was the woman. She was possibly Israeli, or of other Middle Eastern descent, or even Latina, according to which witness I wanted to believe. Her image wasn’t as clear, giving me only a profile worth studying. She’d pulled her hair back, and I couldn’t identify the color. She had dressed in a far more professional manner, and she may even have been the boss in this.

  I continued to scan through the images, back and forth, until I would know them on sight from here on out. I sent LaShawn some copies of the trio and then started going through the rest of the email that Xavier had sent to me.

  Xavier had apparently found a few potential witnesses and blew up their photos as well. One was of a girl, maybe fourteen or fifteen. All I knew was that she looked young and scared in this picture of her. Another was of a tall, dark-skinned kid with a bad complexion. He was maybe in his early twenties or late teens. I didn’t know where either of them fit into this. Maybe they had seen something or heard something.

  The last photo that Xavier had labeled under ‘witnesses’ was a young man with a guitar case in his hand. I remembered LaShawn mentioning the guy that survived the injection was a musician. This could be a match for him. I grabbed my phone and started to scroll through my notes that I’d taken while with LaShawn. There it was, Colby Tamez.

  I pulled up a site to check him out, filing quickly through pages until I could find a social media, criminal record, dating profile, anything that could give me a photo or physical description. It took me more time than it would have taken Xavier, but I found it eventually.

  There it was, a little younger, much thinner, and less healthy-looking Colby. It was a picture taken by a fellow rehab resident less than a year ago. It was certainly the same guy. I had no question about that. And now this might be proof that he was linked to the trio, as a victim. Xavier had listed all the dates, times, and locations for me from each and every photo. Again, I sent everything to LaShawn, hoping that he might pick up on something I didn’t or that I’d overlooked.

  For the first time, I began to feel as if this wasn’t all some random drug overdose spree floating through Miami. This looked promising, and it could lead to more. In the back of my mind, I was still thinking about that threat from the guys that had attacked me. I wasn’t ready to believe either way about whether the Judge or the Yabut were involved in this yet. Before I could plan my next move, though, I got a call from LaShawn. I answered it, anxious that we were making headway, even just a little.

  “I take it you got the photos. What do you think?” I asked in maybe a more self-satisfied tone than I should have at this point. But I was feeling accomplished.

  “I know the girl! The teenaged girl from the photos. She came into the center the same night that Colby did.” He was super excited and speaking rapidly. “She was even wearing those exact same clothes. She gave me her first name, and I was able to trace her through a runaway database. Her name is Jozie Chavira, and her family reported her missing two weeks ago.”

  That was good news for our end. “Has she come back into the center? Do you know where she hangs out?” Now we were getting somewhere. At least, I thought so.

  “No, but she’s not going home, I can tell you that,” he replied. “Her home life is a mess. Lots of drugs, abuse, neglect. Her sister claimed it was all just a misunderstanding, but I checked with her teachers and her school’s counselor, and they told me a different story.” Leave it to LaShawn to find the perfect people to talk to about this.

  He continued. “I’ve left inter-center memos with everyone, letting me know if she comes back in at any time, but so far, she was just a one-timer. But as an underage kid, she might have gotten picked up and taken to a shelter.” He paused briefly, thinking things over. “I’ll check into that today, call around, hope for the best.”

  I nodded to myself. “If nothing else, we have the names of two likely witnesses,
LaShawn. That’s big, considering where we started this from.” I wanted him to see that. “Hey, you should tell your lady officer friend about that. It’s a good reason to call her up, right?”

  There was an odd sound, and his guilty voice answered me. “I kind of already did. We’re having coffee this evening.” There was a hint of pride and terror there, and it made me laugh at him unexpectedly.

  “You don’t waste any time, do you?” But that was a good thing. I hoped that it would work out. He needed something positive to work on for a change. “As it happens, I have a date, sort of date, tonight too. But mine’s at an art gallery or exhibit thing. Verity is trying to impress her new co-workers, and I’m going along as arm-candy, I think.” I was joking, of course.

  There was a giant laugh that lasted an exceedingly long time at my expense from LaShawn. “Jake, you are not the arm-candy type. Trust me.” Once he’d recovered from that sniggering, he continued on. “Hey, any way that Cecily and I could tag along? That would kind of be an elevating event, date-wise. Could show that I’m a man of culture and refinement.” There was another pause as he was probably trying to make himself believe that. “Wait, who is Verity?”

  I explained. “So, you know that doctor guy, a friend of mine, George? The one you talked to on the phone while I was shot?” I waited for him to acknowledge that. “Well, he has a daughter that is very… she’s quite nice. She’s an art historian and just started a job here in Miami, so I’m just seeing where this is going to go.”

  “So, you’re dating your friend’s daughter. Yeah, that in no way that could ever go wrong and blow up in your face.” He was, of course, right, but I wasn’t planning on anything like that happening here. One date wasn’t that big of a deal.

  I still wanted to defend myself, though. “But keep in mind, George is in his fifties, so for me to be dating Verity isn’t as weird as it sounds.” I might have been saying that for my own benefit as well, I realized. “Anyway, she asked me out. If that makes a difference.” That had made me feel pretty good if I dared admit it to myself.