"Are you sure Claude will contact Farrell?"
Stella frowned. There were only three of us, but Farrell wasn't just anybody—he was a dangerous figure, with at least six armed guys in the market.
"I'm sure, Mad Dog Claude wants to leave Miami, he'll fence his stash, sell the cocaine he has. Only a few organizations can swallow such a large batch, and all the gangs in Miami are into double-crossing each other. Claude can only go to Farrell because this guy still has smuggling routes to Central and South America."
"Go on!" Stella agreed with my assessment.
"Now, the only one who can shelter Claude is Farrell."
"Very insightful analysis. Let's get moving!"
"Move? Going to the other side's lair now?" Amir was indecisive, "But will he tell us anything?"
I opened the car door, "He definitely won't."
"Then what are you planning?" Stella also knew that even if the MPD came knocking, it'd be tough to get Farrell to speak.
I smiled without answering.
"I can't do it, I don't believe you can either, Kenny, if you're messing with me, I'll crush your balls!" Stella said angrily, because she didn't trust Farrell to be honest.
The three of us readied our guns, loading the magazines, as we arrived at the entrance of the used car market.
"You guys better not try anything funny, I'm warning you Kenny, if conflict breaks out, I won't save you."
"Thanks for the advice." After saying that, I pressed the doorbell.
Soon, two Costa Ricans came to the door.
"Sorry, we're not open right now."
"I want to see Farrell, I know he usually lives in here."
A crew-cut Latino hulk looked at me, resting his hand inside his jacket, "Kid, I don't care who you are, get out right now!"
"Let Claude know I'm here to see him." I took out a cigarette, slowly lighting it and taking a drag.
WHAT? Are you fucking kidding me? We're here to gather information on Claude, Amir was stunned. Stella watched me with a face full of amusement, thinking to herself this has got to be a scam.
"What did you say?" Even the crew-cut Latino seemed bewildered, "Claude sent you to see our boss?"
"Yes!" I said calmly.
The lady cop stared at me intensely; this bastard sure had nerves of steel. Starting with fraud? No wonder he brought me along; once the other side finds out, they'll teach this fool a lesson. But with me, a cop, there, Farrell wouldn't dare touch him, might even think Kenny is a cop too, seeing as Claude's antics had stirred up all the police.
Kenny utilized his police status; my God, is this guy really a gang henchman?
He should be a con artist, what a waste of his talents.
Stella blinked, seemingly shaken by me. She'd never seen a guy so daring yet smart.
"Wait here, I'll notify the boss right away."
After speaking, the Latino hulk took out a phone. "The boss isn't here right now; he wants you to wait for him."
I squinted, observing the expressions of the man.
"Farrell isn't here? Alright, tell him I'll come back tomorrow."
WHAT?
Amir could no longer think straight; having come to see Farrell for intel, why leave now?
Fack! Stella was equally shocked, what is this bastard doing? Trying to mess with me?
"Hold on, you can't leave, our boss will be here soon. You must stay."
The Latino hulk conveyed my message to Farrell through the phone; Farrell said only one thing: keep them there. The two hulks drew their pistols.
Amir and Stella also pulled their guns simultaneously, "MPD!" The lady cop displayed her badge.
Fack! Farrell's men were speechless. How could these be cops?
Farrell, on the phone and driving, nearly crashed on the roadside.
He thought Claude really had contacted him wanting to escape.
Turns out it's bloody cops. "Shit!" Farrell cursed angrily.
"You guys planning to assault police?" Hearing my words, the two Latino hulks reacted as if they'd eaten shit. "You should know Claude killed our colleagues; every MPD in Miami won't let him go, does Farrell plan to do the same thing?"
Farrell on the other end of the phone nearly cried, "Damn con artist, Fack, let them go!"
The two Latino bulks put away their weapons. "You can leave."
I walked towards my Dodge. The three of us silent, our car reached the vicinity of the Upper East Side. I parked on the roadside.
"Kenny, why did we leave again? What are you doing?" Amir broke the silence inside the car.
"It's simple, Claude didn't get in touch with Farrell."
My words made the atmosphere in the car tense.
"WHAT? How do you know that?" Amir pointed at me with his mouth agape.
"Because when I conned Farrell, saying Claude sent me, it was a test; if Claude and Farrell had already been in contact, I'd be seeking my own death. Farrell would know I was lying and would send someone to whack us."
"So you brought me along as a safety net." Stella's eyes sparkled.
"Bingo! If they hadn't made a deal or been in contact, Farrell would meet me, seeing as it's big business."
"And Farrell's actions indicated he had no contact with Claude, because he wanted to see you himself, even rushed back," Stella said excitedly, realizing that the fraud gave insight through analyzing their behavior.
"Alright, although I don't fully get it, Kenny, I think you're right; pal, what do we do now? Still need to dig up intel?" Amir asked looking at me expectantly.
"No, no need."
"What do you mean?" Stella frowned.
"Because Claude never intends to leave Miami."
My words left the two of them in bewilderment.
"How could that be?" Stella exclaimed.
"Because he's not in a hurry to sell, isn't planning to escape. But now every cop is searching for him, and gangs are after him too; he ought to know staying is a dead end, he's running out of time. But why hasn't he left, or hurried to sell? A guy robbing the Cuban Gang must have had an opportunity for fortune, why not enjoy life and is instead waiting to die?"
"Why?" Stella asked me.
I took out a cigarette and lit it, "The answer is simple, he doesn't intend to go. Plus, the drugs might not belong to the Cubans, or there's a big issue involved."
"Not the Cubans'?" Stella looked like she ate a fly, "Impossible!"
"Why impossible? Cubans control the smuggling routes in Miami. If Claude wants to leave, he can't bypass them; doesn't he know that? But why is he courting death?"
"God!" Stella suddenly realized something.
"Because the cocaine isn't the Cuban Gang's, so it doesn't matter if stolen, or perhaps it is theirs, but external forces made them compromise, so they wouldn't pursue it.
Moreover, I always wondered why the first ones to arrive at the robbery scene weren't Cubans but patrol officers?"
"Why?"
"Because this batch's origins are dubious; remove all mysteries, suspect the truth, and you'll get the least possible answer."
"Fack!" Stella pointed at herself, "You're implying?"
"Uh-huh!" I didn't disclose further, Amir didn't understand, but Stella caught on, realizing it was Havana Branch folks receiving the goods; that's why they arrived at the scene first.
Cops smuggling drugs, dirty cops. "Fack!" Stella looked incredulous.
"Amir, go home, don't touch this matter."
"But!"
"Kid, get going." Stella pulled out her gun.
Amir looked at me, inwardly conflicted; he didn't want to abandon me.
"Go on, I'm fine."
"Alright, pal, contact me if there's anything." After saying that, Amir left the car.
"How complicated is it?" Stella moved to the passenger seat.
"Who do you guess it is? Whoever can make Cubans compromise, even use Havana Branch, not fear the police department causing trouble."
Stella shook her head, "Can't guess, can't imagine!"
I leaned back in the seat, exhaled smoke, "Sweetheart, stop investigating, it's beyond your handling."
"What do you mean?"
"CIA!"
"Bloody Fack!"