Shadows Under the Palms
Chapter 24
NOTE: This story contains some harsh language and mature themes that might be upsetting to some readers.
Want to start at the beginning? Welcome to Shadows Under the Palms!
I ran to my car. The usual drizzle of rain and the muggy morning had me soaked through by the time I got behind the wheel, but my mind was racing. I had to get to Clara and Rey and prayed to God they were ready to move on Andrade. I tore through the streets of Ybor, kicking up sheets of rainwater and skidding on the brick on my way to the bridge. The storm was raging now. These mid-morning Summer monsoons made crossing the bridge a lot more fraught, but I had no choice.
The waves on the Bay crashed up over the sides of the Gandy Bridge as I shot across the slick concrete. The windshield wipers were hard-pressed to keep up with the torrential downpour, and the wind threatened to pitch me into the churning water on either side. I tightened my muscles every time another car passed going in the opposite direction, their headlights nearly blinding me as they refracted through the rain-drenched windshield. The skies were dark with clouds, momentarily illuminated with blinding forks of lightning, followed by deep, rolling thunder that shook the bridge and the car.
I didn’t realize I had been holding my breath for nearly the entire crossing until I saw the blurry silhouette of the shoreline through the downpour. With a controlled exhale, I tried to relax my shoulders and arms, but failed. I wasn’t safe yet. I wouldn’t be until I got to the police station and saw Rey. Even then, I knew things were dicey.
I managed to make it downtown without wrecking, and skidded to a stop in front of the station, sending up a huge spray of water over the curb. I could hear a few uniforms cursing at me as I ran inside. The desk clerk, an old former beat cop named Daley, gave me his usual blank stare.
“What’s going on, Duffy? Wet enough for ya?”
“I need to see Detective Torres. Is he here?”
Daley shrugged. “Maybe. I ain’t seen him, but he might be in his office. Or the bullpen.”
“You’re always a great help, Daley.”
“You’re welcome.”
I ran past the desk and into the offices, and saw Rey sitting around a table with a group of suits. The Feds were already here, so that boded well. Rey saw me come in and waved me over.
“Eddie! Glad to see you alive. There are the boys from FBI, Narcotics, and even Jones here from the CIA.”
“A spook, eh?”
The man adjusted his jacket, clearly uncomfortable being identified, and shook his head. “Just an advisor.”
Rey continued. “Gentlemen, this is Eduardo Duffy, former cop and the guy who provided this treasure trove.” He gestured to the spread of papers and photos on the table.
One of the others, an older man with a military haircut and a neatly trimmed moustache, stood and shook my hand. “Nice work, Duffy,” he said. His accent was distinctly Long Island. “Agent Richard Ackerman, FBI. Thanks to you, we finally have what we need to shut Andrade down for good.”
I looked at Rey. “Where’s Clara? Is she safe?”
“I’m right here, Eddie.”
I turned and saw her in the doorway, holding a coffee cup. She gave me a smile and then joined us around the table.
“Let me take your coat,” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. “Have a seat. Stay a while. Plus, you're dripping everywhere.”
I realized that in my hurry, I had let a trail of mud and puddles behind me on the linoleum station floor. I gave them a sheepish grin and let Clara take my coat and hat. She patted me on the shoulder and then went to hang them up on a coatrack in the corner.
“Coffee?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Yes, please.”
“Eddie, we were just going over the info here and planning our next move. Is there anything else we should know? Clara tells us you somehow bluffed Andrade into letting her go. I am actually kinda surprised to see you alive.”
I shrugged. “Playing an idiot seems to come easily to me.” I fished out a slightly damp cigarette, and Ackerman flicked open a shiny silver lighter and lit it for me. “I gave him a bunch of old files that Raul had on the legitimate transactions. Put them in a folder and told him I hadn’t looked at them.”
“And he bought that?” They all looked incredulous.
I shrugged again. “I doubt it, but it bought me time. And you. And got Clara safe. Of course, now he wants me to hunt down Raul Arroyo and his wife for him.”
“And threatened to kill you if you didn’t, I assume," chimed in Clara.
“And you, actually,” I said. She handed me the coffee. “Apparently, you made a real impression on our Russian friend.”
“Russian?” Jones looked up from the files. “Who’s a Russian?”
“Maksim Sidorov,” said Rey, tapping on one of the pictures showing the giant goon. “The big muscle and hit man for the Andrade organization.”
“Interesting,” said Jones, returning to the pictures.
“How much time do we have before he comes looking for us?” asked Clara.
“I’d wager a couple of days, at the outside. Learco is not a patient man, apparently.”
Clara turned to the others. “Do you have enough to move on them now?”
Rey looked at Ackerman, who nodded, looking over the evidence. “I should be able to get a warrant for a raid by the end of the day. We could hit them tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning at the latest.”
“Tonight would be better,” I offered. “Less chance of missing anyone who you might want to scoop up.”
“Also, a lot more chance of civilians getting in the way,” said Ackerman. “I’d like to avoid any collateral damage if possible.”
“Of course,” agreed Rey. “We’ll need to loop in Tampa PD. Unfortunately, we’ve got no jurisdiction across the bridge.”
“I’ve already got my team ready. Buddy here has a small unit as well.” He patted one of the other men on the shoulder.
Buddy stood up, revealing himself to be an imposing figure several inches taller than I was, and considerably broader. He offered his hand and gave me a friendly smile. “Special Agent Buddy Matthews. Bureau of Narcotics. Nice to meet you, Mr. Duffy.“
“Likewise.” I shook his hand, my own seeming to disappear in his massive mitt.
“I’ve got a crack team on standby,” he said. “We’ve done raids like these before. All of my men are ex-military, a couple were even Devil’s Brigade. We can handle anything your Andrade can throw at us.”
“You going to join us, Mr. Duffy?” asked Ackerman. “We can’t have you participate, obviously, but I’d bet you’d love to see us march that bastard out in cuffs.”
“Or a body bag,” offered Matthews cheerfully.
I shook my head. “Thanks for the offer, gentlemen, but I am going to stay as far away from Andrade and the Medianoche as I can for the rest of my life. I’ll leave this kind of operation to the younger professionals.” I sipped my coffee and took a drag of my cigarette. “Besides, I’ve got a flight to catch.”
I’m always a sucker for a good mafia type story