Miami Run

Chapter Seven

“May I help you?”

Blade smiled at the elderly desk clerk, then scrutinized the dozens of small wooden boxes on the wall to the rear of the front desk. “Yes. My name is John Clayton. I believe some forms were dropped off for me.”

“Forms?” the desk clerk said, turning toward the boxes. His balding pate was nonetheless slicked and combed, his cerulean suit immaculate.

“No one mentioned any forms—”

“The Narcs were supposed to leave them here for me,” Blade explained.

The desk clerk wheeled. “The Narcs! So you’re the gentleman!”

“Yes.”

The desk clerk stepped to the boxes and removed several folded sheets of paper from a box on the lower left. “It isn’t every day the Narcs drop off something.”

“I hope it wasn’t an inconvenience.”

“Inconvenience?” the desk clerk repeated, sounding shocked at the suggestion. “Helping the Narcs is an honor!” He placed the papers on the counter.

“Thanks,” Blade said, taking them and starting to leave.

“Will you be staying the night?” the desk clerk inquired hopefully. “I can reserve a suite for you right now.”

“I’ll think it over,” Blade said. He walked to the front entrance to the Ocean View and pushed through the glass doors.

Rikki and Hickok were waiting on the top step.

“Did they leave the papers?” Rikki asked.

Blade nodded, unfolding the three sheets.

“I don’t see why we’re diddlin’ around with this nonsense,” Hickok remarked. “Are you plannin’ to file a formal complaint?”

“No,” Blade said.

“I know you,” Hickok stated. “You don’t do nothin’ without a reason.

What gives?”

“Your great plan, remember?”

“My plan?”

“To find a bigwig and force whoever it is to take us to the Masters,” Blade reminded the gunfighter.

“How’s this tie in?”

Blade examined the top sheet, a white piece of paper entitled FORM 1073 CITIZEN COMPLAINT. The second sheet, another white paper, bore a bold, black PAGE TWO at the top. He checked the third and final sheet and smiled. This one was a yellow paper, and handwritten in the middle of the page was the information he wanted. “Bingo.”

“What is it?” Hickok questioned.

“The name of Fowler’s Dealer and his address,” Blade replied.

Hickok grinned. “Now I get it.”

“The Narc wanted us to fill out the forms and drop them in the mail,” Blade said. “We’ll go him one better. We’ll deliver the forms personally.”

“So where does this big-time Dealer live?” Hickok inquired.

Blade read from the paper. “The Oasis Resort Hotel. It’s on Collins Avenue.”

“We’re on Ocean Drive now, right?” Hickok brought up.

“Yeah,” Blade said.

“How far is Collins Avenue from here?” Rikki queried.

“Let’s find out the same way we found this place,” Blade responded.

“Ask.”

The Warriors descended the half-dozen concrete steps to the street.

“Miami Beach sure comes alive at night,” Hickok commented.

Blade was thinking the same thing. The avenues and streets had been much less crowded two and a half hours ago when the shuttle bus from Bayfront Park had deposited them on Dade Boulevard after crossing the Venetian Causeway. The late afternoon heat had instilled a lethargy in the inhabitants, a sluggishness promptly dispelled by the enveloping shroud of darkness. Now, with a few stars faintly discernible in the inky sky, Miami Beach was a vibrant, hustling hub of activity. People thronged to the sidewalks. Vehicles packed the thoroughfares. And there was a distinct difference evident, as if those who roamed Miami Beach at night were a breed apart from the daytime dwellers. The clothing worn by the passersby consisted more of tailored suits and dresses instead of black leather and jeans. Even the cars prowling from block to block betrayed the meticulous care they received by their shiny paint jobs and gleaming bumpers and chrome strips.

A pair of women approached the Warriors, one in a sheer black dress, the second in a yellow blouse and short red skirt. Their hair was stylishly coiffured, their nails painted red, their lips a striking scarlet.

Hickok nodded at them and smiled. “Howdy.”

They stopped. The brunette in the red skirt raked the Warrior with a critical gaze. “Howdy yourself, handsome.”

“We need some help,” Hickok told her.

The woman laughed and nudged her friend. “I’ll bet you do, lover!”

“We’re open to anything except S and M,” the woman in the black dress added.

“S and M?” Hickok repeated quizzically.

“Yeah,” the brunette stated. “We don’t do the kinky stuff. A working girl has to draw the line somewhere.”

“It’s nice to know you ladies are holdin’ down jobs,” Hickok remarked, “and we really can use your help. Which way is it to Collins Avenue?”

The brunette’s brown eyes narrowed. “Is that all you want? Directions?”

“We’re lookin’ for the Oasis Resort Hotel,” Hickok elaborated. “Do you know it?”

“Yeah, we know it,” responded the one in the black dress.

“How do we get there?” Hickok inquired.

“Is that really all you want?” the brunette demanded.

“That’s it,” Hickok said. “We’d be in your debt.”

“You don’t want to turn a trick?” asked the brunette.

“This isn’t a blamed trick!” Hickok declared.

The women exchanged bemused glances. “Are there many like you at home?” the brunette asked.

“Nope,” Hickok said. “I’m one of a kind.”

“Figures,” the brunette stated. “So you need directions to the Oasis?”

“That’s the general idea.”

“Go north three blocks,” she instructed them. “Then take a left. The next drag you’ll come to is Collins. Take a right. Go about a half-mile. The Oasis is on the right. You can’t miss it.”

Hickok grinned. “Thanks. Hope you ladies have a fun night.”

“Business before pleasure,” the brunette said, and they walked off.

“What did she mean by that?” Hickok queried.

“They must work the night shift,” Rikki speculated.

“Let’s go,” Blade directed, leading them to the north. He folded the papers and slid them into his right front pants pocket.

“What if this Dealer doesn’t want to take us to the Masters?” Hickok asked.

“He’ll take us,” Blade stated.

They traveled the three blocks to the appropriate intersection, then turned to the left. Their progress was slow, hampered by the press of the lively crowds.

“Will you look at that!” Hickok marveled.

A tall black woman was drawing near. She wore black, high-heeled shoes, a lavender skirt scarcely covering her shapely thighs, and a pair of silver cups constructed from a pliable material over her large breasts.

Purple tassels dangled from the tips of the cups.

“The womenfolk hereabouts sure don’t believe in modesty,” Hickok observed.

The Warriors reached Collins Avenue and took a right. The volume of pedestrian and vehicle traffic was twice that of Ocean Drive.

“I’m glad I don’t live in a city on a regular basis,” Hickok remarked.

“Give me the wide-open spaces any day.”

“Millions, maybe billions, lived like this before the war,” Blade mentioned pensively. “Overpopulation was a serious problem for most of the countries in the world.”

“No wonder they went off the deep end and tried to blow themselves sky-high,” Hickok said.

Blade glanced at Rikki. “Why are you so quiet?”

“Something is amiss,” the martial artist answered.

“Like what?”

Rikki’s thin lips tightened. “I don’t know. But I feel that something is wrong.”

Blade scanned the avenue in all directions. “I don’t see anything.”

Rikki shrugged. “I could be mistaken. My intuition is not infallible.”

Blade looked at Hickok. “Do you feel anything?”

“Hungry.”

“You’re a big help,” Blade muttered. He threaded his way to the north, bothered by Rikki’s revelation. The martial artist was not prone to needless worry or flights of fancy. Rikki was always levelheaded, even if the Zen he practiced did imbue him with a mystical air. If Rikki’s senses were telling him that something was wrong, then something was wrong.

But what?

What had they overlooked?

“It’s all this sea air,” Hickok quipped. “Everything seems fishy.”

Blade couldn’t help but grin. He searched the avenue for someone who might be tailing them or watching them surreptitiously.

Nothing.

Maybe Hickok was right.

They proceeded a quarter of a mile.

Blade was almost to an intersection when there was a tug on his right arm. He turned to find a thin man with a sparse mustache attired in a natty white suit and carrying a cane. “Yes?”

The man in white beamed. “I couldn’t help but notice you boys. I bet you’re from out of town, right?”

“Is it that obvious?” Blade responded.

“Your threads have a lot to do with it,” the man said.

Hickok looked down at himself. “Threads?”

“What can we do for you?” Blade inquired.

“You’ve got it backwards, friend,” the man said. “It’s what I can do for you.”

“For us?”

“You name it, I can supply it,” the man boasted. “You want broads? I have a stable of the finest in Miami. You want to connect, I’m your source. Crack, smack, ludes, weed, whatever you want, the Genie can get.”

“Are you the Genie?” Blade questioned.

The man in white bowed. “At your service, sir! I don’t mean to brag, but my rep is as heavy as they come! I supply the tourists with the stuff dreams are made of. I—”

A young girl, not much over 15, abruptly materialized to the Genie’s left. She was wearing a lacy red dress and red shoes. Her hair was blonde, her face caked with makeup. Her arms were folded across her chest and she was shivering. “Genie?”

He stared at her in disapproval. “Not now. Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“Please,” she said, fidgeting with the strap to her brown purse.

Before the Warriors could intervene, the Genie slapped the girl on the mouth.

“You know better than to interrupt when I’m making a sale!”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes. “I can’t help it! I need a fix.”

“Work for it like everyone else.”

The girl glanced at Blade. “How about you, mister?”

“Me?” the Warrior responded.

“Yeah. I’ll get you off for twenty. Please. I need the bread.”

Blade studied her for several seconds. His features seemed to ripple in the glare of the streetlight, hardening for a fraction of a instant before inexplicably relaxing as he smiled at the girl. “I may be dense, but I’m not stupid.”

“What?” the girl asked.

“Nothing,” Blade said. He gazed at the man in white. “You’ve impressed me. I’d like to do business with you.”

The Genie snickered. “A man of class! What what will it be? Coke? Grass?”

“Grass will be fine.”

“How much do you want?”

“A handful should be enough.”

The Genie blinked twice, then cackled. “I like your style, my man. You can buy it by the joint, the lid, whatever. If you’ve got the green, you can buy a whole key.”

“We’ll take three keys.”

Hickok and Rikki looked at one another and Hickok shrugged.

The Genie’s mouth slackened. “Three keys? Are you putting me on?”

“No.”

“Three keys is a lot of bread, man,” the Genie said. “You have that much on you?”

Blade patted his right front pocket. “I have it on me.”

“You wouldn’t be trying to stick it to me, would you?” the Genie queried suspiciously.

“I want to do the honorable thing,” Blade said.

The Genie hesitated, his dark eyes roving over the Paratrooper on the giant’s right shoulder and the Bowies in their sheaths. “I don’t know—”

“Suit yourself,” Blade stated, and started to turn.

“Wait!”

Blade faced the Genie.

“All right. We’ve got a deal,” the man in white declared.

Blade began to reach into his right front pocket. “Do you want the money now?”

“No!” the Genie replied hastily. “Don’t go flashing that much bread! Some of these hit-and-run types might see it!”

Blade removed his hand. “Where then?”

The Genie jerked his head to the rear. “My wheels, man. They’re parked down the block. I’ve got the stuff in the trunk.”

“After you,” Blade said.

“What about me?” the girl asked.

“You stay put, bitch!” the Genie snapped. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Blade looked at his companions. “You two stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“You sure, pard?” Hickok responded.

Blade nodded.

“Follow me,” the Genie directed, and hurried down the block.

Blade warily followed, deliberately holding his hands away from his Bowies. He spotted a row of flashy cars parked along the curb.

The Genie hastened toward an enormous automobile notable for its sparkling golden finish and more chrome per square inch than any other vehicle in sight. “I knew this was my lucky night!” he declared excitedly over his right shoulder.

“Mine too.”

“You never can tell,” the Genie went on. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this business, it’s never to judge a book by its cover. You never now how much bread a customer will have.”

The front passenger door on the gold car suddenly opened and a huge black in a black suit climbed out. His head was bald, his expression tainted with a cruel edge.

“This is Hugo,” the Genie said, introducing his henchman as he halted next to the front fender.

Blade stopped and nodded.

Huge said nothing, his eyes radiating distrust.

“This gentleman wants to buy three keys,” the Genie stated. “Open the trunk. Give him a peek at our goodies.”

Huge moved to the rear of the car, withdrew a key ring from his left front pocket, and unlocked the trunk.

“See for yourself,” the Genie said, walking to the rear and motioning for Blade to join him.

The Warrior moved to within a foot of the trunk.

“Open it,” the Genie said.

Hugo slowly raised the lid.

Blade’s eyes narrowed as he beheld the bewildering collection of drugs and drug paraphernalia. The trunk was filled to the brim.

“I’m as good as my word,” the Genie declared. He reached into the trunk and patted three large bundles. “Three keys. Just what you want. Now I need to see the color of your money.”

Blade reached for his right pocket.

“Wait a second,” the Genie said. “Why don’t we do this right? Step into my parlor. We can have a drink while we finalize the deal.” He stepped to the rear door and threw it wide. “After you.”

Blade leaned over and peered into the spacious, indulgently furnished interior. The back seat was covered with a lustrous brown leather, and the floor was a rich, thick, green carpet. A handsome wooden cabinet was positioned behind the front seat.

“Slide on in,” the Genie urged.

Blade hunched his broad shoulders and eased into the plush vehicle. He looked out the rear window to see Hugo standing next to the trunk.

“Close it,” the Genie ordered, then bent down to enter the car.

Blade was in the middle of the seat, his buttocks resting on the edge, his body slightly twisted to the left, his right hand touching the wooden cabinet, his left on his left Bowie.

The Genie was halfway inside, the cane in his right hand.

Blade tensed and watched as Hugo walked to the rear and was momentarily obscured by the trunk lid.

Now!

The Warrior’s body unwound, his right hand sweeping up and over the Genie’s head, his fingers locking on the man’s neck and yanking the Genie forward even as his left hand brought the Bowie around and up in a savage arc. The tip of the razor-honed blade penetrated the Genie’s neck just below his chin, and the knife slanted upwards and was buried to the hilt.

For an instant of incredulous shock, the Genie’s only reaction was a widening of his eyes. He gurgled as a crimson spray gushed from his throat, then abruptly lunged, hissing, spearing the cane at the giant’s face.

There was a muted click and a five-inch sharpened metal spike popped out the top of the cane.

Blade jerked his head aside, but the spike dug a red groove in his left cheek. He tightened his hold on the Genie’s neck and slammed the man to the seat.

The trunk lid closed with a thump.

Blade kept his eyes on Hugo as the black came around the driver’s side.

His arms bulged as he held the Genie flush with the seat, and he felt the spurting blood spatter his left forearm. Would Hugo look inside first or simply open the driver’s side door? Blade gritted his teeth as the Genie thrashed and heaved, the cane swinging wildly.

Hugo reached for the rear door.

The Genie uttered a strangled gasp and went limp.

Blade yanked his left Bowie free as the door on the driver’s side opened.

He spun, the Bowie going straight out, knowing he had to take Hugo down without attracting the attention of anyone outside.

Hugo was leaning down when the Bowie sliced through his trousers and into his groin. Totally stunned, racked by torment, he inadvertently doubled over and clutched at his genitals.

Blade clamped his right arm on the bodyguard’s throat and hauled Hugo inside, onto the floor. The small oval overhead bulb cast a garish yellow glow on the black’s stupefied expression.

Hugo brought his bloody hands up, clawing at the Warrior.

Blade wrenched the Bowie out, then sank the knife in Hugo’s chest.

Hugo stiffened, his lips moving formlessly, then sank back, his eyes open but unfocused. He expelled a lingering breath and was still.

Blade glanced at the avenue. Cars and other vehicles were passing, but not one appeared to have noticed the struggle. He pulled his Bowie from Hugo’s body, wiped the blade on Hugo’s jacket, and replaced the knife in its sheath. Working quickly, he closed the driver’s side door, then reached for the passenger door.

And froze.

The Genie’s black shoes were protruding from the passenger side.

Staring at those shoes, not two feet from the car, was the young girl in the lacy red dress.

Blade prepared to pounce, expecting her to scream.

Instead, she looked him in the eyes, her features composed and licked her lips. “I get half or I’ll roll over to the Narcs.”

“What?”

She moved closer. “Don’t try and scam me, turkey! I want half!”

“Half of what?”

She put her hands on her hips. “You know damn well what I’m talking about! What’s it going to be? Fifty-fifty, or the Narcs?”

“I don’t want the Narcs involved,” Blade admitted.

She slapped the Genie’s shoes. “Dump his ass on the floor.”

Confounded, Blade rolled the man in white on top of Hugo.

“Keep your hands away from your knives,” she warned as she slid in.

“Close your door,” Blade said, “Do I look stupid?” she countered. “The door stays open!” She reached for the wooden cabinet and jerked on a gold knob. “Fifty-fifty is fair,” she commented nervously.

Blade did a double take as his gray eyes alighted on the contents of the cabinet. Under a shelf containing liquor bottles and glasses was another shelf piled high with stacks of bills and rolls of gold and silver coins bound by plastic bands.

“Look at it!” the girl said in awe.

“You want to split this fifty-fifty?” Blade asked.

The girl stared at him defiantly. “Damn straight! Unless you want me to go to the Narcs!”

“You seem more concerned about the money than the Genie,” Blade commented.

She glanced at the corpse in white, scowling. “Who the hell cares about that bastard? I can always get me a new pimp. Young fluff is always in demand. Know what I mean?”

“Fluff?”

She nodded at the cabinet. “Look! Enough stalling! Do we split this or not?”

Blade studied her for several seconds, then sighed. “Take as much as you want.”

“What?”

“I don’t need half of it,” Blade told her. He removed two half-inch stacks of bills and two rolls of coins. “The rest is yours.”

She looked like she was going to lay an egg. “Are you for real?”

Blade stuffed the bills into his left front pocket, then placed the coins in his left rear pocket.

“Are you for real?” she repeated.

The Warrior gestured at the cabinet. “Help yourself.”

She laughed and opened her purse. “I may never have to hustle again!”

“You could start a new life,” Blade suggested.

She grabbed stacks of bills and crammed them into her purse. “You don’t know the half of it!”

“You could give up the drugs.”

Her hand paused in midair. “Why would I want to do that?” She laughed and resumed filling her purse.

“You like using drugs?”

“Sure. Doesn’t everybody?” She giggled. “With this, I can get a buzz on like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Why not do something constructive with your life? Why not find a mate and settle down? Why not rear a family?”

She gazed at him in surprise. “Get real, man! You sound like my grandmother. Those old ways are for nerds! Number one is all that counts, and I intend to look out for number one.”

Blade waited as she finished stuffing her purse.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed happily, looking at him. “Thanks. I’ll never forget you!”

Blade said nothing.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a freebie? I feel like I owe you. How about a quickie right here?”

“No,” Blade responded softly.

“What’s the matter with you? A big hunk like you, and you don’t want to make it? Why not?”

“I doubt that you’d understand.”

“Try me,” she prompted.

“For one thing, I’m married—”

“So? Three-fourths of my Johns are married.”

“For another, sex should be an expression of love, not lust.”

The girl laughed. “You’re weird! Do you know that?”

“We should leave before someone looks inside,” Blade advised.

She glanced at the sidewalk, at the people hustling past. “I guess you’re right. If I had the time, I’d snatch some of the trunk stash. But we’re pushing our luck as it is.”

“May you know true happiness someday.”

The girl laughed and climbed out. “Ta-ta, lover!” she said in parting, and dashed to the south.

Blade emerged from the car and closed the door. He spotted a man in a brown suit standing a few yards away, watching him. “Do you want something?” he demanded.

The man shook his head and blended in with the throng.

Blade turned to the north.

“Havin’ fun, pard?”

“We could have helped you.”

Hickok and Rikki were near the front fender, their bodies positioned so that anyone walking past would need to swing wide of the vehicle.

“Let’s find the Oasis Resort Hotel,” Blade said.

Hickok nodded at the car. “What was that all about?”

Blade frowned. “I don’t know if I could explain it.”

“Yeah,” Hickok said thoughtfully, surveying their surroundings. “This city is gettin’ to me too.”

Blade headed north.