The King of Swords (max mingus) (18 page)

T
hey busted Octavio Grossfeld at 4.30 a.m. on Thursday. Recon had told them that he was alone in the house. One way in. No way out.

Max, Joe, Mark Brennan and Jimmy Valentin went through the door.

They found Grossfeld in the bedroom, naked, face down on his bed, passed out from hitting a large blue springing-dolphin-shaped glass bong; so deep under the stone he didn't hear them.

Brennan and Valentin tossed the house, while Max and Joe tried to wake Grossfeld. They stood him up, slapped him around, shone a light in his face.

'Buenos dias, motherfucker!'

Grossfeld's eyes peeked out from under heavy lids and went back in, as he smiled a sloppy grin, mouth half open, drool dribbling out the sides.

They took him into the bathroom, dumped him in the shower and turned the cold water on full. Grossfeld came to screaming.

They frog-marched him into the living room and stood him up against the wall, dripping wet.

The room was a tip and smelled like God's own outhouse. The floor was carpeted with used pizza boxes, flattened and taped together.

Valentin came back from the kitchen holding a plastic bowl filled with coke balloons.

'Hey, they ain't mine!' Grossfeld yelled.

'No? What they doin' here then?' Joe asked.

'He planted them there!'

'Right,' Max said sarcastically.

Brennan meanwhile, had found a surgeon's bag in a cupboard. He took out three scalpels, duct tape and a saw, all covered in dry blood.

'Don't tell me,' Max said to Grossfeld. 'He planted them there too right? And the prints we're gonna lift off 'em ain't gonna be yours either?'

Grossfeld didn't say anything, just looked at his feet, dripping water, covering his balls. He was short, pale and skinny with a tattoo of the Virgin Mary covering his chest.

'What you like doin' better, Octavio? Dealin' dope or cuttin' girls open?' Max asked.

'Fuck you, puta!' He spat at Max's face and missed hitting Joe's jacket. Joe wiped it off with his handkerchief.

'I look estupido, man? That dope ain't mine. I ain't gonna keep my shit in here!'

'Where you stash it?' Joe asked.

'Eh?' Octavio grimaced. 'You plant this fake shit here, and now you ask me where I keep my real shit. You're dumb in three dimensions, chardo.'

'You know a man called Carlos Lehder?' Joe asked.

'Si. He fucked your mamma in the jungle and made you, mono negro.'

'You tryna get a rise outta me, Octavio?' Joe said, looking down at him, bringing all his build to bear, dwarfing him. 'Let's get some panties on this bitch before we read him his rights.'

Max went back to the bedroom and found a pair of jeans and a dirty pink T-shirt lying next to a half-eaten pizza.

'Put these on, fuckhead!' He tossed them at Grossfeld.

As he was getting dressed Jed Powers walked through the door. He took a look at Grossfeld and called Brennan and Valentin outside. Max heard them murmuring and then Powers and Valentin came back in.

'What are you doin' here, Lieutenant?' Max asked.

'Been a change of plans. We ain't takin' him in.'

'What? Says who?'

'You know who,' Powers said. 'You two get over here.' He beckoned.

'Hey! I want some compensation for that door, puta!' Grossfeld shouted out and started coming forward.

'Shut up you! And back up where you were!' Powers barked, stopping Grossfeld in his tracks. He retreated to the wet patch he'd previously occupied.

As Max and Joe were approaching Powers, Valentin stepped past them and shot Grossfeld twice in the chest. His back blasted out and splashed thick crimson treacle on the wall. Grossfeld fell face down on the floor.

'WHAT THE FUCK?!' Max yelled.

Valentin walked over to the body, holstering his piece. He took a silver.38 out of his waistband.

Powers motioned for Max and Joe to step outside.

'OK, you two saw it. You came in and took fire. Valentin popped him. Simple.'

They heard a single shot go off in the house.

'When was this decided?' Max asked. He was shaking with shock and anger. Joe was ashen and silent.

Valentin came out.

'All clear,' he said.

Lights were going on in the neighbouring houses, doors were opening, people were starting to come out on the street. The monotonous chirping of crickets was giving way to the wail of sirens.

'Eldon'll explain everything once we get through the debrief,' Powers said, then looked at Joe. 'You OK, Liston?'

'What do you think?' Joe growled low.

Powers gave him a long hard look, then stared at Max.

'You two best go help control the spectators.'

'Did you know that before he got busted the first time, Octavio Grossfeld was top of his class at Miami University? His parents were dirt poor farmers. He was a scholarship kid. Got through on his own brains and merit,' Eldon said to Max.

They were up on the roof. It had gone 2 p.m. The sky was thickening to thunderstorm black, sunlight only breaking through in patches. There was no breeze at all. The heat hugged them close, tight and humid. Below there'd been an accident on Flagler, and traffic was backed up halfway down the road.

Max had just been through his witness report-taped and written. He'd repeated what he'd been told to say: he and Joe had gone in first, with Brennan and Valentin behind them. Grossfeld had come out and shot once in their direction. Valentin had returned fire twice, hitting Grossfeld in the chest at point-blank range. It was self-defence; a good call which had saved their lives; exemplary police work.

Then he'd had to type up two reports because Joe was too messed up to concentrate. It had taken him five attempts before he'd got it right.

'And that's why he had to go,' Eldon continued. ''Cause there ain't nothin' worse for a cop than an intelligent criminal. He'd've caused us all kindsa problems when he came down offa his bong cloud. Happened before with his kind. This way's better. We can pin what we want on him and make it stick. Dead men tell no tales and all that.

'Look, I'm sorry I didn't warn you about it, but I wanted you goin' in there with a clear head. Mind on the job,' Eldon said.

Max didn't know what was pissing him off more-what he'd just witnessed, or the fact that Eldon was so fucking matter of fact and even jovial about it.

'How's Liston?'

'What do you think, Eldon? He's never seen this kind of shit first hand before,' Max said, 'so he's kinda confused.'

'Confused?' Eldon frowned.

'Yeah, you know. His right and wrong compass is all fucked up.'

'He gonna be a problem?'

'No.' Max shook his head. 'Joe's a hundred per cent solid. With you all the way. I mean, he ain't got a death wish, right?'

Eldon smirked at that. 'You're upset, ain't you?' he said.

'You could say that, yeah,' Max said, drawing hard on his Marlboro. 'What went down today was wrong.'

'Wrong? No, it wasn't wrong, Max. It was right. Wrong was that guy. He was a piece of shit. Brought young Colombian girls over here and gutted 'em like they was kingfish. Hell, why am I even tellin' you this? You know. It was you who picked him outta the book.'

'It's still murder.'

'Huh?' Eldon stepped closer to him and craned his head down a little, looking Max right in the eye. 'I can't believe I'm hearin' this. From you, of all people. You a little shell shocked, Max? You got amnesia? Macon PD have three unsolved murders on their books-three kiddie rapers with double tap entry wounds in their heads.'

'That was different.'

'Oh? How so?'

'They were guilty but you made me let 'em go because their faces didn't fit whatever political agenda you and the Turd Fairy were workin' to that month.'

'But you still popped 'em.'

'I was doin' the job you wouldn't let me do the right way. Those guys? They preyed on defenceless children. I gave the kids and their heartbroken families justice. Justice you denied 'em!'

'I denied them justice? Bullshit! Those families got fucken' justice, Max! You see them complainin' in court? They didn't give a flying fuck it was the wrong guy.'

''Cause they didn't know!'

'But you got the real perps, Max. And the creeps we put away? They hurt kids too. So what's the fucken' problem? Two for the price of one. And you're talkin' to me about justice? I say what we're doin' here is justice-justice at its purest. Those fuckers all deserved to go down. Octavio Grossfeld sliced girls up, Max. Young girls, with families too. He was a scumbag. He got what was comin' and good fucken' riddance!'

'We weren't even gonna arrest him for that,' Max said bitterly but weakly, feeling the protest drain out of him. Eldon was right: he wasn't in any kind of position to protest, and there was even a warped truth in what he was saying.

'Look, Max,' Eldon put his hand on his shoulder, all fatherly and concerned, 'you're upset 'cause I didn't keep you in the loop. Is that it? It was a last-minute call. You and Liston'll get the credit, don't worry. It's still your baby.'

Fuck that, Max thought, looking away, over to the sea.

'What about Marisela Cruz?'

'Who?'

'The mule who was gonna testify against Grossfeld?'

'What about her? Things have changed, so the deal's off. She'll be charged and go to prison.'

'But I promised her…'

'Not in writing you didn't. Verbal promises ain't worth shit. Who was with you when you talked to her? Pete?'

Max nodded yes.

'He'll deny the whole thing.'

'What about her baby?' Max almost whispered. He felt sick and dizzy. He dropped his cigarette on the ground and stamped it out.

'Her kid'll be born here and fostered or adopted. Best thing for it. Would you wanna grow up in Colombia? I wouldn't.'

'That's fucked up,' Max said, disgusted. 'Can't you at least deport her?'

'Not my call.'

'Bullshit! '

Eldon was taken aback by Max's fury, but only for a second.

'We send that girl home, know what'll happen? She'll be back on the next plane over, and the one after that too. And then maybe she'll bring her baby along for the ride. You know they use babies to get coke in here, right?' Eldon said.

'Forget it then,' Max said. 'I want off this case.'

'What did you just say?' Eldon's face tightened.

'You heard me.' Max looked him straight in the eye.

'Ain't gonna happen.' Eldon shook his head.

'No? Then I'll quit.'

'The fuck you will!' Eldon snarled.

'Watch me,' Max said coldly and turned to go.

Eldon grabbed him by both shoulders and spun him around so fast he lost his balance and stumbled, and his cigarettes and Zippo fell out of his breast pocket.

'Now you listen,' Eldon seethed, face flushed, eyes small and fierce, wart turquoise going on purple, index finger jabbing at Max's face. 'I run this division. You work for me. I decide who stays and who goes. Not you. The only place you go is where I tell you.

'You wanna walk outta here, Max? Fine, fuck off. But you'll be taking Liston with you. And I'll make sure he knows that his arrogant little prick of a partner was willing to wreck his life over some spic mule.

'That girl? She's surplus to our requirements. She broke our laws. She goes to our prisons. End of fucken' story. You got that?'

Max didn't reply. The thick veins in Eldon's muscular neck had sprung up like a nest of snakes and his face was beet-red. Max hadn't seen him so mad at him since his boxing days.

'I didn't fucken' hear you,' Eldon said, getting right up in his face, so close their heads were practically touching.

'I got it, Eldon.' Max backed off a step, feeling pathetic and whipped and all kinds of small. Back when he was training him, Eldon had used one of two approaches to get results. Patient, friendly encouragement when he'd lost confidence in his abilities, or full-scale public verbal bombardments when he'd lost sight of his ambition. Eldon had known him so long he knew exactly which buttons to press and how hard.

'You what?'

'I said I got it. I understand,' Max said more loudly, keeping a firm hand on his wounded pride so it wouldn't turn to anger.

'Good.' He stood glowering at Max, soaking up his protege's capitulation. And when he'd had his fill, he packed the anger away, smiled, and put a firm but friendly arm around Max's shoulder and walked him over towards the edge of the roof. 'A little disagreement's always healthy, huh?' he said. 'Clears the bad air.'

Max replied with a noncommittal, 'Hmmm.'

'Me and Abe, God, we used to fucken' disagree all the time. You know why? Abe was extra efficient when it come to dealin' with his own people. He was rougher and nastier and more intolerant than any o' those Klan-affiliated Patrol cops ever were. Whenever we was interrogatin' nigras, he had this bat he used to take out, intimidate 'em with. Thing was filled with lead shot. One tap'd turn bone to powder. Know what he used to call it? His "nigger knocker". Can you imagine that? Abe was a great cop, one of the best ever had a badge, and the finest I ever worked with. But, you know, sometimes he went way too far trying to prove he was bluer than black, one of us. Boy did we argue! Things he used to say. Close your eyes and you woulda sworn that was some redneck talkin' to you.'

Max had heard all the stories about Abe, although never directly from him. Abe didn't talk about the past much. Joe despised Abe, called him a self-loathing sellout-and that was when he was being polite.

Eldon took a deep breath of the dense dead air and sighed.

'I love this fucken' city, don't you?' Eldon swept his free hand across the view of the flat landscape, his tone now warm and friendly.

'It's all right, I guess.' Max shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to get Eldon's paw off him.

'It's "all right, you guess"?' Eldon laughed. 'You're Miami born and bred, Max. You don't know no better. Me? I love this city more'n I love most people. That's the honest truth. Always been that way, always be that way.

'First time I came here, I was ten years old. Came here with my daddy, Eldon Burns the First. He was a sheriff in Mississippi. Caught himself a fugitive wanted by Miami PD. So we drove him down. Guy was in the back seat. I was up front with Daddy. We handed him over and went down to Miami Beach. The first sight o' that was so fucken' beautiful. The beach, the sea, them rows of art deco hotels. Those places were really somethin' back then, you know? Not like the dumps they are now. To me they were little palaces and everyone stayin' in 'em was royalty. I made myself a promise that when I grew up I'd be sheriff of Miami. Look at me now, huh?'