The 24th Letter

SIXTY-FIVE

Two miles from the hospital, O’Brien got off the bus, walked into a convenience store restroom and changed back into his clothes. He tossed the hospital clothing into a garbage can on the outside of the building and flagged a passing cab.

“Where you need to go, sir?” asked the driver, his accent heavy Cuban.

“One-thirty-eight Hibiscus Court, Coconut Grove.”

“Twenty minutes, no problem.”

The driver pulled into the afternoon traffic as O’Brien looked at his watch.

Thirty-four hours remaining.

He picked up his cell and called Lauren Miles. “Did you come up with anything on Judy Neilsen or Carlos Salazar?” he asked.

“Just about to call you. Neilson first. After Alexandria Cole’s murder and Charlie William’s trial, Judy Neilson left Miami and moved to New York City. She worked as a model, but the bright lights and big city seemed to fade. She moved back to Florida, married and divorced. Now sells real estate near Orlando. Salazar is bad news.”

“How bad?”

“Extortion, racketeering, five cases of aggravated battery. And try this one on for starters…we believe Salazar was recruited by the Aryan Brotherhood.”

“He seems to have a little different ethnicity than what they look for.”

“Florida has more hate groups than any other state. As a matter of fact, Omega, one of the symbols the priest drew before he died, is tied to a far right extremist group based in Tampa called The Omega Order. One of the many things they preach is that violence is a means to an end and justified to achieve their goals. Sort of a jihadist creed. People with Salazar’s skills can free-lance. These groups don’t recruit him to join them. They hired him to train them.”

“Train them in what?”

“Plain and simple-killing.”

“Wouldn’t imagine they need that much coaching.”

“They don’t, Sean. What they needed was someone who could teach them the art of traceless killing.”

“Traceless?”

“They call it ‘dusting without leaving any dust behind.’”

“Like he did with Spelling and Father Callahan. There’s another to add.”

“Who?”

“The D.O.C. guard assigned to Spelling. Volusia SO found his body in a rural area. Perp shot him at close range. Made it look like suicide. Traceless, if you will.”

“You think it’s Salazar?”

“Him, or someone connected to him and Russo. Whoever did it was extremely precise, calculating, and very fast. In a few hours, he killed the three people that could tie Russo to a murder eleven years ago. I know that Russo sent Salazar to intimidate and beat Barbie Beckman.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s at Jackson Memorial, a few floors down from Russo’s room.”

“I gather that you’ve paid them both a hospital visit.”

O’Brien said nothing.

“Sean, we know Russo uses his club as a front for drugs. These people get so deep in the cartel that they have dozens of shell companies. They’re in bed with some of the Miami mob families with extended business dealings with their New York and Chicago cousins. One of Russo’s eccentricities is he likes to dabble in the model, music, and movie scene. Club Oz gives him the stage. Salazar’s one of the dozen or so pros he has at his disposal. You can’t effectively function as a one-man-army. It’s suicide.”

“With the hours running out in Charlie William’s life, I don’t have a choice.”

“You get ready to go in…call me, okay? Bye, Sean.”

From the window of the cab, O’Brien watched a high-speed power boat zip over the glass-like surface of Biscayne Bay. He called Ron Hamilton. “You’ll probably get a call from Russo dropping charges against me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because he knows it’s in his best interest. But I’m betting the call won’t come until I neutralize Carlos Salazar.”

“Where is Salazar?”

“I’m beginning at the Sixth Street Gym and then going to Sticks Billiards in Little Havana. If he’s not at either place, maybe somebody will know where I can find him.”

“What are you going to do? For Christ sakes, Sean, you can’t even arrest him. What proof have you found to tie him to the murders of the priest, Spelling or the guard?”

“None, yet. But he almost killed Barbie. You could hold him on that.”

“So you want me there…the question is do you want me as backup, or as someone for you to hand Salazar to?”

“You’d have to come alone. Anyone else in the department would try to take me down. You hold Salazar before he skips. I’ll find the nail to hold him for good.”

“I’d bet the pool hall would be a good possibility first.”

O’Brien smiled and said, “I bet you’re right. Also, I’d bet that Russo’s tipped off Salazar. Be careful on your approach.”

“When?”

“I have one stop I have to make. See you at seven sharp, two hours. And Ron…”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”