No Rules by Ridge King (bookstand for reading .TXT) 📕

“Right.”

* * *

The cars converged on Enriqueta’s over the course of about fifteen minutes. Everyone went to the stand-up window to get a Styrofoam cup of Enriqueta’s finest before drifting over to the cluster of palm trees by the dumpster.

“Something funny about this meeting, Fredo,” Sean said inside the white paneled van.

“What?” said Fredo as he angled his long-range directional mike toward the palm trees to pick up the conversation.

“Why do they always meet here? And why would they meet here when it was the meeting here where they discussed the Key West operation? They’ve got to be wondering how they were compromised?”

“True.”

“Keep your eyes open for anything unusual.”

“OK.”

Sean had decided to watch the meeting from the back of the van, not the driver’s seat up front.

From here he watched as Howard and Derek arrived together with Vlad. The Oyebanjos came with Pozo.

After the initial greetings, Fredo and Sean listened while Derek explained to the Cubans why Flores wouldn’t be transporting their $27 million to the Bahamas, but that they’d secured the services of Vlad Kucherov, a trusted partner in other ventures with Howard and Derek, “much better, much bigger than Omer,” according to Derek.

To Pozo, their explanation about Flores made perfect sense. These things happened. But he still didn’t like the burly Russian. He’d never liked the Russians, especially the way they lorded it over the Cubans when Fidel had invited them to send thousands of their troops to “advise” the Cuban military. Fidel hadn’t liked them anymore than Pozo had, but at the time they needed Russian expertise, money and clout to push back the Americans.

They discussed rescheduling the shipment to the Bahamas for the week between Christmas and New Year’s.

“You understand, Derek, that you’re our main contact with this business?” said Aricela.

“Sure I do.”

“Who from your team is going to go with Vlad?”

“Derek will go himself,” Howard offered, patting Derek on the shoulder.

“Sure, I’ll go with him myself,” Derek said quickly, covering the urge to gape open-mouthed at Howard. The last thing in the world Derek wanted to do was accompany a bunch of smugglers across the Gulf Stream in open boats loaded with $27 million in cash, but there didn’t seem to be a graceful way out of the situation, thanks to the fat man Howard.

Pozo decided he would have to risk bringing a couple of his fishing boats into play on this operation. He would have Chico bring up a couple of boats to shadow the boats Vlad and Derek took to the Bahamas. He just had that tingling feeling in his stomach that told him something wasn’t right. He didn’t know what, but he knew it was something.

In the van, Sean listened on his headset to the conversation as Fredo picked it up. He had moved out of the driver’s seat so no one could see him sitting there simply waiting. He’d moved back into the van and had great angles through the dark glass panels. But he wasn’t looking at the six people huddled under the palm trees. He was looking at the street traffic on Second Avenue, or more precisely, the cars parked along Second Avenue within sight of the palm trees and, yes, within sight of his van.

There were too many cars, too many cars parked with a single person inside smoking a cigarette or pretending to be on the phone, their eyes darting around suspiciously.

He had to keep in mind that four or five of these people were working for the St. Clair Agency, following the people now chatting under those palm trees.

But who else was there?

Inside Enriqueta’s, Vlad’s man Gregor sat at the counter nibbling away ever so slowly on a Cuban sandwich. It was very busy at this hour, and despite several attempts by the counter girl to hurry him along, he didn’t budge.

His position gave him an unobstructed view through the wide window through which the waitresses passed cups of coffee to customers standing outside the building and where they passed out take-out orders.

He’d planted himself there an hour before anyone had arrived for the meeting. His Cuban sandwich was cold now, so when the girl came by with raised eyebrows, he ordered a Corona beer.

He’d seen Howard, Derek and Vlad pull up and park, followed not long after that by the Oyebanjos and Pozo. He’d caught Vlad’s eye when they came up to the window to order their coffees. Derek had noticed him, too, but other than a sidelong querying glance at Vlad, he made no show of knowing Gregor.

He’d noted other cars, one after the other, pull up and park across the street on Second Avenue as the principals arrived. These were obviously tails put on the different parties. He had no idea how many there would be, or who was tailing who.

The only other curious vehicle seemed to be a white van with black glass panels across the street and up a few yards. It had been there when Gregor arrived to take up his position. No one had come out of it or gotten into it. It was just parked there.

He had two of his own people out there in cars ready to follow anybody that Gregor thought looked suspicious.

After the meeting broke up, Gregor walked out of the restaurant and watched first one car and then another leave the area. The white van across the street did not move.

Inside the van, Fredo saw Gregor.

“Hey, Sean. See the guy that just came out of Enriqueta’s?”

“Yeah.”

“We saw him in Key West. He’s with Kucherov’s team.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember him now. The big ugly guy.”

“He’s been inside Enriqueta’s all this time.”

“He’s coming this way, crossing the street.”

They saw him clearly through the one-way glass panels.

Gregor walked straight up to