Roos stiffened in his seat and growled into the microphone, "Knox has a connection to an I.S. officer and this is the first I’m hearing about it?"
"The connection goes back to before everything went to Hell. In the old world, Knox and Cordera worked CIA Cuban operations out of Miami."
"So what," Roos spat. "Half the folks in Dade County used to spook Castro back then."
"Yeah," Hobbs’ voice carried an edge of its own that came through over the crackles of the radio. "Well half of Dade County didn’t get a phone call tonight from an old friend then go running off without telling the wife where he was going. At least, that’s according to the misses. You’d like her, she talks a lot."
Roos chewed on that then transmitted, "Sounds like I would. Yes, I think I’d like to meet her, too. I think I’d like to be there when Ernie gets home tonight. What’s the address?" "Miami Shores." Roos turned to the pilot and waved his hand north. "Miami Shores." The LongRanger changed course, this time banking hard left and swooping lower as it gained speed…
…The black 540i inched along Ocean Drive carefully picking its way through the throngs of party goers and sight seers who crossed the street between the beach and the strip with drinks in hand and arms around waists. Had it not been for so many holsters and the occasional police officer with battle armor and automatic weapons, it might just be another pre-Armageddon night on Miami Beach.
Music drifted from the glitzy fascias of night clubs, playing an eclectic mix of Latin, Caribbean, Reggae, rock and pop, most from the old world but a few tunes composed in recent times.
Gordon responded to the wave of a young, white-dressed male attendant who wore gold chains that glimmered against his tanned chest. That attendant guarded a prime parking spot.
Knox eased the car into place and killed the engine. The attendant hurried to the passenger side and held the door open with one hand while offering the other to the lady inside. Nina ignored the assistance, swung her legs onto the pavement and stood. She further ignored the young attendant’s leers.
She stopped and surveyed her surroundings. People packed the street, shoulder to shoulder. Nina had not seen so many people so closely grouped outside of military camp.
Gordon motioned toward the brightest and loudest building on the block. Nina furled her brow in displeasure at Gordon’s choice of rendezvous’. She did not understand why a public spot would be preferable to a quiet alleyway or empty parking lot.
She sighed and brushed passed the attendant. As she moved, Nina became aware of eyes studying her.
Her shy temperament surfaced for the first time in years and she felt out of place. She hurried next to Gordon and the two entered a doorway below a logo sporting a red and blue parrot sitting on a green palm tree under the name "Mango’s."
The entrance opened to a rectangular club stretching deep across a two-story hall with banisters and spectators gazing down from above. On the far side a band strummed a methodical Latin beat that made for slow but sharp sways on a dance floor situated between clusters of round-top tables.
The crowded complex bathed in electric blue and pink amidst palm trees, ceiling fans, and walls painted with land and seascapes. Scantily clad waitresses with flowers in their hair shuttled trays of exotic concoctions, somehow managing to balance the glassware while pushing through the gulf of humanity.
Nina found herself drifting in the tide of people. Her eyes darted back and forth. The music drummed in her ears like a hypnotist’s watch, the aroma of cigarettes and perfume and cologne and fading coconut-scented sun lotion swirled together and tickled her nose. The tapestry of people rolled and twisted around her.
She saw a dark black man with three gold loops in each ear swaying alone at the end of the bar; a Hispanic woman with a necklace made from seashells mixed with rubies smiling and talking to a red headed girl sporting a tattoo of a screaming eagle above well-displayed cleavage; a boisterous, sun-burned fat man dancing fluidly with a pair of oriental women hanging on his wide arms who slipped sips from margarita glasses in his mouth one after another; a cluster of young women posed like mannequins eying the dance floor while holding techno-colored drinks to their lips.
Armageddon brought monsters to Earth, yet this room of people felt far more alien to her than anything she had faced on the battlefield.
Suddenly, Gordon’s hand pulled her between dancers and servers and voyeurs. He led her to a table in a shadow below a palm tree. There waited a man with bushy eyebrows and a tight-fitting white shirt over a hairy chest. In one hand he held a short glass with something green inside. The man eyed Gordon until Nina entered his range of vision. Then his eyes switched.
Gordon spoke first, "Ernie, mi amigo, demasiado largo puesto que hablamos."
The man with the bushy eyebrows put aside his drink, rose to his feet, and shook Knox’s outstretched hand while flashing a genuine grin. "Soy donde he vivido siempre. Usted, Gordon, movido a cosas mas grandes." Gordon’s response came in a grin. Ernie, motioned for the two to join him. His eyes held on Nina for a long second. "Usted trae un presente hermoso para mi." Gordon warned Ernie, "Cuidadoso. La senora rompe mas que corazones." Nina sat and grunted at Gordon. "It would be best, my friend, if we spoke in English, for the sake of my companion." The man nodded. "Si. Oh. That means ‘yes.’" Nina frowned in Ernie’s direction. The men found that funny. Ernie’s good humor lasted only a moment. "Tell me Gordo, are you serious?" "Very serious." "Then what do we know? Hmm? What do we know about the assassination?"
Nina felt uncomfortable discussing the matter in such a public place. However, as she glanced around she realized that the sound of the band and the crowd meant that the only persons in earshot sat at the table.
Gordon stated what he knew: "One ship. A Redcoat shuttle landed at the meeting site, killed Trevor and his bodyguards, wounded Evan and others, then took off. It got blasted out of the air an hour later." "Yes." Gordon nodded, "And then our Witiko ‘friends’ gave us the location of the Redcoat base. So we could wipe them out." "Damn straight," Nina murmured. Ernie said, "That leaves a lot of questions no one has been asking."
Nina agreed. "Listen, the big question is how they got all the way from Mexico to D.C., without being spotted at one of the radar stations. Especially since the D.C. station is supposed to have all that area covered."
Gordon shook his head.
Nina reacted, "What? I’m just saying, how the Hell did they get all the way up there?"
Ernie offered, "Their ship was painted white, like our Eagles. To most people, it just looked like another one of our shuttles. But the radar stations, your friend is right Gordon, they control air traffic at the Mexican border and in key spots along the way. They should have spotted the flight and known it was unscheduled."
"It’s almost like they had stealth capability, don’t you think?" Gordon considered his words and added, "Wonder who else we know has that kind of ability?" Nina connected the dots but her conclusion did not come as a shock to the two men. "The Witiko. I mean, what if they gave the Redcoats a stealth field generator. Something like their Stingrays have?" "Or what if the Redcoats stole one? You know, the way we stole their shuttles?"
Nina did not get Gordon’s point. Ernie extrapolated: "That could be a believable cover story if they were ever caught. But, their ship was blown from the sky into pieces."
"Leaving no evidence," she finished.