I am not a professional writer - only one of the many people who have loved and continue to love Miami Vice, one the greatest television shows ever produced, and who keep it alive in our hearts beyond the end of its production run.

This story is only one vision of what could have happened in the lives of the characters that we had the good fortune to get to know and cherish over the five years that the show was in production. It tries to stay true to the characters and ambience created by Anthony Yerkovich and developed by Michael Mann, and attempts to tie up some of the lose ends that we were left with when the show finally ended in 1989.

Many thanks to Yerkovitch and Mann and to the fabulous actors and actresses who made the show what it was - Don Johnson, Phillip Michael Thomas, Edward James Olmos, Saundra Santiago, Olivia Brown, Michael Talbott and Johns Diehl.

Thank you all for giving us the incredible experience that was and is Miami Vice!

eaj

All Miami Vice pictures in this story are borrowed from the www.miami-vice.org website

click here if you wish to play the Miami Vice theme music as you read the story

Prologue

The two Fedex parcels arrived at about the same time even though they were over 1000 miles apart – one at the Bronx police station in New York and one at the Organized Crime Bureau (OCB) in Miami, Florida.

Both parcels came from Nassau in the Bahamas with no sender’s name or return address. Both were paid for with cash and untraceable. After they arrived at the police stations, both parcels were scanned and then opened. Both contained an envelope marked ‘Personal and Confidential’ with a videotape and a short note inside. The only difference was the name of the addressee. The Bronx envelope read "Ricardo Tubbs". The Miami envelope read "Martin Castillo". Both envelopes were delivered and both were opened.

The typed notes inside both envelopes were the same:

Both notes were signed:

New York

  Ricardo (Rico) Tubbs was a detective first class on the New York police force working out of the Bronx. Since he had returned to New York from Miami 13 years ago, he had been working vice. New York wasn’t Miami with its year-round summer weather, palm trees and fabulous beaches, but it was home, and it felt right to be doing something to help out the old neighbourhood.

 He had learned more about undercover work and illegal drug stings in the five years he was on loan to Miami Vice than he would ever have learned in a lifetime at detective school. His prime teacher and best friend had been his partner, James Sonny Crockett. Crockett lived somewhere in the Caribbean now and was doing some pretty crazy things. The tape must have come from him - but the note somehow didn’t seem to fit Sonny’s style. "Haven’t seen Sonny for a while. This must be a joke or invite of some type," he thought. "I wonder what he’s up to."

  Martin Castillo had been the lieutenant in charge of the vice squad for eighteen years at the Miami OCB. They had wanted to make him a captain a few years back, but he had turned the promotion down, preferring instead to work closer to the front lines. He hadn’t changed much since Crockett and Tubbs had resigned from Miami Vice thirteen years earlier. He had tried to get them stay on, but too much had gone on behind the scenes out of Castillo’s control for either of them to want to continue. He was perhaps a bit more cynical after experiencing the way his two top detectives had been used and abused by the system, but he still maintained his unshakeable principles of right and wrong. He was still the serious and silent police lieutenant dedicated to apprehending the criminals who polluted the lives of American citizens.

He was curious about the tape. To him, anything that was out of the ordinary deserved investigation and this tape was definitely out of the ordinary. He borrowed a TV and VCR from the briefing room, took it to his office, loaded in the tape and sat down to watch it. Castillo was a master at maintaining a poker face. But even he winced at what he saw on that tape.

 The show had hardly ended when the phone rang. He picked up the receiver and the voice on the other end said, "There’s a Detective Ricardo Tubbs from New York on the line, sir. Would you like to speak with him?"

"Put him through," he replied.

Rico’s voice was shaky, "We’ve got to talk," he said.

"I know," was the reply, "I’ll make the necessary arrangements to get you down to Miami right away."

 Chapter 1:   The Runner on the Beach

A fresh gentle breeze was drifting in from ocean and across the deserted beach as the sun peeked over the horizon and cast a warm glow on the cool white sand. The overnight tide had washed away all traces from the day before, leaving the beach in its natural virgin state until a lone runner appeared from around the point and paced quietly along leaving one set of solitary footprints.

It was too early for the locals who lived the layback Caribbean lifestyle to be up and about, and definitely too early for the tourists to even think of getting out of bed. But the runner on the beach, was not a local, nor was he a typical tourist on a one-week rest-and-relaxation getaway. His last job, like the others he had taken on in the past thirteen years had been draining – very rewarding, but draining. In between jobs, he needed some time to shut off the adrenaline rush, cool down, and spend some time in the real world. And after each job when he took the time to cool down and reflect on his life, he tried to get a little closer to understanding who he was and what was important in his life. As he jogged along the beach this morning, Sonny Crockett (he only used James when lawyers and judges were involved) was deep in thought, contemplating the reunion with his son and ex-wife, and thinking, "how could I ever have let her get way?"

  Caroline had left him and moved away with their son to Atlanta when he was still working undercover with Miami Vice. Since then, he had kept in touch with her, but he rarely made the trip up north to visit. It was better that way. If anything happened to him, and he was sure his luck was going to run out some day if he stayed in this business, it would be better if the ties with Caroline weren’t too close. He understood why she had left, and he had let her go, but he never stopped caring for her.

After living the life of a wife of a devil-may-care, shoot-from-hip, undercover vice cop in Miami, she had needed and deserved to have some certainty in her life away from the fear that some crazy dope smuggler was going to kill her or her family. And so, she had returned to her roots and built a new life for herself and Billy.

She had moved to back to Florida a few years later, to Ocala, and met and married Bob – utterly straight, totally dependable, take-no chances Bob. They had a son together, Joey, a younger brother for Billy. The last time Sonny went to Ocala was three years ago to attend Bob and Joey’s funeral. Sonny often contemplated the irony of her losing Bob and Joey in a senseless car accident. Joey would be 13 today if a drunk hadn’t broadsided the car they were in two blocks from home in a quiet residential neighbourhood. It hardly seemed fair. Sonny was the one that pulled the crazy stunts and lived the dangerous life. He couldn’t count the times he had nearly bought it from low life drug lords and other sleazeballs, but here he was jogging down a deserted beach peacefully contemplating life, and they were lying stone cold in the ground.

  And Caitlin was gone too - beautiful Caitlin, the woman who had more than filled the void in his life and breathed new life into his soul, the woman who had made him fall in love all over again - the woman who had carried his unborn child to the grave.

They were dead because of him and he would never let that happen again. After Caitlin’s death he shut out love and buried his feelings. Since then, he had avoided all personal ties. If he didn’t let himself get close to anyone, he wouldn’t have to go through that loss again. After all these years, the pain was still there.

But Sonny kept the promise he made to his son Billy when he had visited him back in ’89 just before Joey was born. That was just a short time before he had pulled the pin on the Miami Dade police force and left the OCB. Every year he set aside a month or so for just the two of them - cruising the keys, doing some fishing, spending the time together.

  Billy was 23 now and graduating from university. How time flies, he thought. He had decided to attend the graduation and was really looking forward to seeing his son again. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was also looking forward to seeing Caroline again too.

Sonny had called Billy last night to let him know that he would be there. He’d leave his 40-foot sloop parked at the marina and hop the inter-island commuter plane to Grand Turk and on to Miami. There were too many memories there to stay any longer than he needed to. From Miami it was a short flight to Ocala to spend a few days with Billy and Caroline.

His thoughts kept rolling on into what he was doing and where he was going with his life. It was almost thirteen years ago that Crockett, Miami’s top vice detective at the time, had pitched his shield on the tarmac at the amphib airstrip. Burnt out and frustrated with a system that could never seem to stem the growth of illegal drugs, that turned the bad guys free and punished the innocent strays, and that burned the good guys who busted their asses trying to do something about the whole sorry mess, he finally gave it up. He moved south where the water was warm, the drinks were cold and he didn’t know names of the players.

However, it didn’t take long before the players found him. The DEA, the FBI and the Company kept tabs on where he was. They knew he was the best, and they knew his principles were uncompromising, even if his methods were sometimes unorthodox. They recruited him for assignments and referred him to other "friendlies" to help them out when the official channels were stymied. Freed from the restrictive rules and regulations of official agencies, Sonny figured that he had taken more snow and smack out of circulation every year working freelance than he did the whole time he was in vice.

A major benefit of working freelance was that he could pick and choose assignments and take a break when he needed to cool down for a while and regroup. The other big benefit was the pay. One "job" paid a whole lot more than his annual wage on the city payroll, and there had been lots of jobs. He had a pretty healthy income now, and it was all above board, reported to IRS and taxes paid – that was one his uncompromising principles. Not that he really needed the money. Caitlin had been a pretty successful pop singer and after she died, he found that her estate had left him very well off financially. But he had never been totally comfortable living in a million-dollar house while earning $475 a week take-home as a cop when he she was alive. After she was gone, it was even harder to digest. And he would trade every cent of it if only he could have her back again. It was important to him to make his own way - it was another one of those principles of his.

But there was something that always seemed to nag at him in the back of his thoughts. Sure he was taking dope of the streets, but the shakers were still shaking. The one problem with freelance is you didn’t get to take the bad guys down. Maybe it was time to retire completely. He didn’t need to work anymore, but he couldn’t see himself retiring just yet. Maybe he’d set himself up a fishing charter service someplace. But from what he heard about dealing with tourists, they could be tougher to deal with than crooks, and he often joked that you weren’t allowed to shoot tourists.

He was at the end of the beach now. Turn around and head back – down the beach, round the point, along the path through the palm trees and to the marina for a quick cool shower and a change of clothes. Sonny kept his boat at in berth at a small private marina on Salt Cay. It served him well as a home base. The island was small enough to keep most of the tourists away, but big enough to sport a small commuter airport.

He had become used to living on a boat. The St. Vitus Dance had been home when he worked vice, a nice perk provided by the city that fitted right in with his undercover role as Sonny Burnett, but that was a lifetime away. Now the Vitus II provided him a mobile home base when he was working an assignment, and the berth on Salt Cay was his safe haven and restful retreat when he wanted some time to wind down. He finished the shower, pulled on some comfy cotton pants and a clean T-shirt and headed back to the slip for a cool beer. He was thinking about seeing Caroline and Billy again and the new deep-sea fishing set-up he had bought for a graduation present. "Maybe life isn’t so bad after all," he thought….

…but for some unknown reason he couldn’t shake a funny feeling that something wasn’t right. He seemed to have a sixth sense for nosing out danger - it had saved his life on more than one occasion. But this time he pushed it away and kept strolling down to the quay. He didn’t notice the two rather ominous-looking gentlemen heading his way until just before his foot hit the wood of the dock. That’s when he sensed their closeness. Then he felt a tight grip on his arm and the unmistakable feel of cold steel pressing into his lower back.

"Good morning Mr. Crockett," the definitely Hispanic voice said, "did you have a nice run?" "Please, come with us quietly man. An old friend of yours would like to see you again."

They walked him away from his slip to another boat where a third man was standing. He was much younger than the first two – just a kid really. He looked a bit uneasy. Somehow he looked familiar, but Sonny couldn’t quite place the face. They had the upper hand right now. He’d just have to wait it out until an opportunity presented itself. With the gun still at his back, and the goons blocking the view from the shore, the kid cuffed Sonny’s hands in front of him. Then the thug holding him tightened his grip, popping the vein in Sonny’s forearm and nodded to the young man. Before Sonny knew what was happening, the kid plunged a hypo into the vein and pushed the plunger down.

"Nice work Ricardo," the goon who was gripping his arm said. "Enjoy your trip Mr. Crockett."

Sonny felt the warmth race through his veins and apprehensively anticipated the feeling of euphoria and the rush that was about to explode in his brain. "Damn," he thought, "I think I’m in big trouble."

The initial euphoria wasn’t accompanied by the high-energy feeling of power and mental alertness typical of cocaine. Instead, it was followed by the warm flush and feeling of light-headed heaviness that came from heroin. He sensed that the dose was strong, but somehow figured that it wasn’t an OD. Through the haze his mind registered the thought that smack was worse than blow.

"Damn," his thoughts swirled, "I really am in big trouble!"

As the two oversized goons escorted him onto the boat, his head began to reel and the feeling spread throughout his body. By the time they escorted him down into the hull, he found he couldn’t even keep his balance. They pushed him down on a bed and cuffed him there. Through the haze, he felt the boat move slowly out from the wharf. One part of him knew he was in big trouble, but as the heroin continued to invade his mind and body, his fears were replaced with drug-induced mindless pleasure to be followed by the "nod" of drowsiness typical of a smack high.

Sometime later, when the stupor started wearing off, Sonny opened his eyes and looked around but everything was in darkness and spinning madly. He tried to move his arms but he couldn’t – it seemed like they had lead weights on them. He couldn’t move his legs either. Through the swirls and mist things started coming back to him. He remembered the gun, the goons and the nervous young man…. and the needle and the haze. Wow! That was strong stuff! Too much more of smack like that and he knew that he’d have a bad time detoxing if he ever got out of this mess. But first he would have to get out of this situation, and that seemed rather difficult right now.

He was still riding high on the smack when the young man reappeared. He almost seemed reluctant to be there. This time, with Crockett’s body immobilized and his mind still foggy, and with no goons around to help, the boy tied off the vein with a piece of tubing before plunging the poisonous needle neatly into its mark, all the while keeping his face expressionless and saying nothing. The rush was faster and stronger. The sudden gush of pleasure wiped out the fear and anger and left Sonny once again in a drug-induced state of euphoria.

The next thing he remembered was waking up on a bed in a darkened room somewhere – but where? As his senses began to return, he realized his hands were cuffed together in front of him. He tried to get up but his body didn’t respond, so he took a deep breath and looked around. There was one door on the wall in front of him and one shutter-covered window on the side wall to left. The shutters were closed, but enough light penetrated the slats to make out his surroundings. There were a couple of chairs at a table in the middle of the room, a counter with a sink along the wall on the right and over in one corner, a small curtained off area. On the table was a plastic jug and glass. A towel and face cloth hung on a rack over the counter beside the sink. The bed he was on was a metal army-style spring cot covered with a mattress and bedding.

He raised his head again and this time managed to sit up. When he attempted to move his legs over the side of the cot, he felt a tug on his left ankle and the jangle of a chain moving. His leg was chained to the bed, but the chain looked long enough to allow him to move around. He managed to get to his feet, somewhat unsteadily at first. After the fog cleared he tested the length of his tether – long enough to reach the table, counter and curtained off area, but not long enough to get to the door. The jug on the table had water in it, and behind the curtain was a toilet – all the amenities of home. The water reminded him how thirsty he was. It would seem that his mysterious host wanted him alive, for now at least, so he took the chance that the water was safe and quenched his thirst. And then he lay back down and waited.

Sonny had no idea where he was, and without a watch (his gold Rolex was not in its usual place on his wrist), he couldn’t even begin to guess how long he had been here. He also had no idea about who had had brought him here or what he wanted, but whoever it was had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure he was looked after. Sonny knew that he had made more than one enemy over the years. The bad guys didn’t like it when their drug operations were interrupted, and Sonny Crockett had shut a lot of them down, both as a detective with Miami Vice and later working as a freelance ‘crime consultant’. This situation could not bode well at all.

Sometime later, how long later it was hard to tell, the door opened. Sonny sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He recognized the goons and the young man from the boat, and behind them came a familiar face from the past. Finally Sonny knew who was behind this operation. It brought back memories, and it didn’t make him feel any better.

  "Welcome to my island." said Mario Fuente. "It’s so nice of you to pay me a visit on such short notice. You know, Crockett, you still owe me 3 million dollars plus interest and now you’re going to help me get it back. You’re gonna help me get your American cop friends out of my business. For your sake, I hope they co-operate. If not, perhaps I should say ‘welcome to my nightmare’."

The ensuing laugh resounded throughout the little room. "Welcome to my nightmare," he repeated. "I like that. But first, why not have some beautiful dreams."

"Go to hell Fuente!" he snarled, standing up and pacing to far side of the room. "I never took your damn money, and I’m not gonna help you get it back. Cates took your money, and now it’s lying at the bottom of the ocean."

"I don’t believe you Crockett. It’s very convenient of you to blame a dead man. But my people tell me that you are living very well these days – certainly a lot better than an ex-cop should be. I believe you are living very well off my money. And be assured, you are going to help me get it back," Fuente asserted. "One way or another I’ll get it back, even if it’s in your hide.

At that, Fuente’s thugs grabbed him. This time Fuente tied the tourniquet and injected the heroin. As he did so, he smiled into Sonny’s face, "I’ve waited a long time for this, Crockett. You may be costing me a bit right now, but don’t worry, I’ll be getting it back. And if not, well the entertainment will be worth it anyway."

Welcome to your nightmare, Crockett."

Over the next while, the only contact Crockett had with anyone was when Fuente’s heavies visited to pump more heroin into his system, not even waiting until the effects of the previous high had worn off. On the whole, except for the heroin, he was not mistreated. It seemed that Fuente’s intention was not to kill Crockett, but to turn him into a very serious heroin addict. Although his leg was kept chained to the bed, his hands were freed, and he could move around the room to eat, wash and perform the necessary daily functions when he was steady enough to do so. In his more lucid moments, when the drug wore off some, he tried to find a way to free himself, but there didn’t see to be any way out, and even if he did, there was no where to go. The young man brought food and toiletries when needed - even a portable electric razor so he could shave. He never said more than he had to, but Sonny got the impression that he was not a willing participant in this operation. After he did what was needed he returned to the big house on the other side of the island.

Sonny didn’t know how Fuente was planning to use him to get the money – and had no idea what he meant by his providing entertainment, unless it meant watching him turn into a strung-out junkie. But how would that that help him get back the 3 mil plus interest that he thought Sonny had stolen form him. If Fuente thought he was going to turn dirty to feed a habit that he had no intention of maintaining once he got out of here, Fuente had another think coming.

But that wasn’t Fuente’s intention at all.

His intention became a little clearer the day Fuente himself paid a visit. He brought along his goons, and the kid. "I hope Ricardo is taking good care of you Crockett. He doesn’t seem to enjoy my little game as much as Ramon and Carlos do. I promised his uncle a long time ago that I would look after him and teach him the family business when he was old enough. But he is too much like his mother. I need to toughen him up a bit first. So he will be taking care of you. You take good care of Mr. Crockett, Ricardo. Make sure he’s around long enough for me to get my money back."

Sonny started to get a bit concerned - what was Fuente talking about? He was already feeling a bit agitated. For the first time since he had been escorted away from Salt Cay so unexpectedly, the heroin had been allowed to wear off completely. He had no idea how long he had been here, but it was long enough that his system had become heavily addicted to the drug. With the long delay since the last dose, he could feel the tenseness rising, and the first hints of the shakes. He felt cool even though sweat was rolling off his brow. Was Fuente planning to get his kicks by denying him the heroin he needed to keep the shakes away. Sonny had a pretty good idea what that would be like – he had seen too many junkies suffer the DTs when they were deprived of the drug. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but it would mean that he would get this poison out of his system, and that was worth any cost. But how would that get Fuente his money back?

"And now," Fuente went on, "You will become the star of your own home movie. The pay may not be so great for you, but, if your old friends still care for you, it should bring in a very good return for me." He looked at his thugs. "Get Crockett ready. And don’t take any chances with him. He can be a very resourceful person."

Sonny didn’t like the sound of this, and it didn’t take long to find out he was right to be concerned. The next thing he knew, his hands were tied behind his back, the leg shackle was removed and he was being led outside. For the first time in he didn’t know how long he felt the sun on his face and breathed fresh outside air. He didn’t have much time to enjoy the feeling though. He was prodded on for what seemed a few hundred feet. Then he felt a gun pointed at his head as his hands were untied from behind and then re-tied over his head. His arms were pulled upwards until his feet were barely left on the ground.

"Welcome to your nightmare, Crockett. And don’t forget to smile for the camera."

The first jab was excruciating. It was an electrical probe of some sort, a cattle prod probably. It was shoved right into the small of his back. The scream of pain was involuntary. What the hell was happening!

The pain continued. The shocks came from any direction to every part of his body. His arms ached as his legs collapsed and they bore his full weight until he could try to stand again. On top of that the DTs were ramping up. His muscles and joints ached and he spewed out his guts all over himself. It was a nightmare, and they wouldn’t let him sleep. Every time he passed out, a bucket of water was thrown over him to revive him. Then the pain started all over again. The water only intensified the shocks, and the DTs got worse. Eventually his mind began to wander. His body still felt the pain, but it seemed as though the screams were coming from someone else.

"Oh God – please stop!" a voice inside his head said, or was that his voice. By this time, he couldn’t tell.

Eventually it did stop, but he had no idea how long it had been. And then someone jabbed a needle into his arm and he felt the immediate relief of the opiate travelling through his system. It felt good – the pain went away. A distant voice said, "Smile for the camera Crockett. We want to make sure your friends see those beautiful eyes open wide when the junk hits your system". Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t help but sigh as relief flooded through his body.

They cut him down and he collapsed to the ground. "Thank God," went through his head. "It feels so good."

In Miami and New York respectively, Castillo and Tubbs had watched the full two-hour tape. At the end was a still with the promised instructions for canceling further tapes.

In New York Tubbs paled. That long shift he had just come off was a bust of one of Fuente’s shipments. "Ah Sonny," he said to no one in particular, "I’m sorry man. Hang in there pal. We’ll get you outta there."

He picked up the phone and called OCB in Miami. "This is Detective Ricardo Tubbs in New York. Can I speak with Lieutenant Castillo please?"…..

When Castillo came on the line, Tubbs uttered in a shaky voice, "We’ve got to talk."

"I know," was the reply. "I’ll make the necessary arrangements to get you down to Miami right away."

Castillo had once told Sonny that he didn’t use markers to get favours. This time was different though. He blamed himself for this mess. Years ago, he had let Cates set Crockett up with Fuente. Cates was an 18-year undercover vice cop with the DEA, and had been playing Fuente for a while. The three million had been stolen by a small-time hood who worked for Fuente. Cates was working undercover in the Fuente operation at the time and had seen Moroto take the money. He followed him and found out where he hid it. Shortly afterwards Crockett busted Moroto and sent him to prison.

  A year later, Moroto asked Crockett to visit him in jail because he had something for him. While Sonny was with him, Moroto blew his own head off with a homemade gun. Cates decided to use the incident to make off with the money Moarato had stolen. He convinced Internal Affairs that Moroto had told Crockett where the money was and Crockett had turned bad and had taken the money. At the same time he used his cover with Fuente to convince him of the same thing. Then he pretended to help IA get the goods on Crockett and to help OCB nail Fuente.

Castillo knew that Crockett was a good cop and that something was rotten with Cates’ story, but he and the department let it happen anyway, knowing he was risking Crockett’s reputation and his life.

  By the time it was over, Cates was dead, the money lay at the bottom of Atlantic off the coast and IA knew that Crockett had been set up, but Fuente still believed that Crockett had the money.

After all these years Castillo figured it was water under the bridge, until now. He owed Crockett. He had created this nightmare for him and he would get him out of it. And he figured the Miami Dade Police Department owed Crockett something too. Castillo closed the files on his desk and headed straight to Captain Brody’s office.

The lieutenant was a man of few words. His briefing was short and to the point, and his request at the end said he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was going in after Crockett. Either the department gave him what he needed or he was taking leave as of right now.

Brody knew he was serious. Castillo didn’t make many requests and never issued ultimatums. And the department wanted Fuente. They had for years, but he always managed to stay one step ahead of them. This could be the opportunity they needed to use his own greed against him. Since 9/11, no one was taking well to foreign nationals threatening American citizens. Maybe this incident with Crockett was just the thing that would loosen the purse strings to finally allow them to go after and bring in Fuente – and that would be a big feather in his cap to take into his upcoming retirement.

Brody gave Castillo what he asked for. Castillo could choose his own team from the department and head up a task force to go after Crockett. And Brody would talk to the Commissioner about bringing in outside parties, including Detective Ricardo Tubbs from New York. That was one of the things Castillo had asked for. Tubbs would be a good fit. He had been Crockett’s partner for five years when he worked for Miami Vice, he had received a copy of the tape as well and he had been working Fuente for quite a while in New York. He had the background and more than enough reason to want to bring down Fuente.

Castillo knew whom he wanted from the department on his team. They were all the best at what they did, and they all had reasons to want to help Crockett. They would to do whatever it took to get him out.

It didn’t take much for Brody to convince the Commissioner to come on board and lend his weight to the plan. With the commissioner’s support, he put in calls to his counterparts in New York and the Bahamas, and to the DEA, the FBI, and even to the Company. When he did, he found he didn’t have to pull in too many markers. Crockett had built up his own over the years. It didn’t take much to get all the agencies including the police in New York and along the coast to agree to give Miami seven days to get Crockett out before they went after Fuente again. The agencies also volunteered people and resources for that same period for Castillo’s task force. Even the Coast Guard had been alerted and was ready to help out if needed. Crockett might not be a cop anymore, but he was still one of their own and they wanted to bring him home.

Seven days wasn’t much time when you were starting from scratch with nothing, but Castillo knew that it was more than generous. He also knew that Sonny would have been the last person in the world to think that anyone to ease up on Fuente to get him out of a bind.

Trudy Joplin was at the airport to meet Rico when he arrived at Miami International the next morning. Under different circumstances it would have been a happy reunion. Trudy, Gina and Stan had been pretty raw vice detectives when Tubbs first partnered with Sonny in Miami. Together they had formed a tight group. They had all learned a lot from Sonny, and he had always been there for them when they needed him. Sometimes, Trudy thought, they had taken advantage of that support. He was always so tough and independent - it just didn’t seem that he needed anyone. Trudy had often wondered whether that had been part of the reason Sonny had burned out and thrown in his badge.

Now it was their turn to get him out of a jamb.

"We’ll get him back Rico," Trudy whispered as she hugged him tightly. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. They picked up his bags and headed to OCB. The hotel could wait for now.

Gina and Stan were there when they arrived. "Castillo’s waiting," said Switek, and the four of them headed into the strategy room. The room was already crowded with other detectives and reps from the other agencies. They had seven days to find Crockett and get him out, and one had already passed. After that, the loaned resources had to return to their own duties, and it would once again be open season on Fuente, which meant that it would be open season on Crockett too.

After the introductions, Castillo spoke to his task force. "As you’ve already been briefed, we believe Sonny Crockett is being held by Mario Fuente as a hostage against any interruptions of his illegal drug operations. Fuente had a videotape of Crockett delivered yesterday. It’s not very pretty. Detective Tubbs received an identical copy at the same time in New York. We need to determine where Fuente is holding Crockett as soon as we can so we can get him out of there before Fuente decides to make another videotape or kill him. We have seven days starting yesterday." He walked over to the television. "Right now, I want everyone to look at the tape that arrived yesterday. Keep a close watch for anything that might provide a clue as to where Fuente might be holding him."

It was general knowledge that Fuente owned an island in or near the Bahamas, but no one knew exactly where it was. The location had never been high priority because it wasn’t in US waters so they couldn’t do anything about it anyway.

It was never easy to watch someone being tortured. It was even harder if it was someone you knew, and most of the people in that room knew Crockett very well or had at least worked with him at some time. What made it even harder when the tape was over was the fact that there was nothing on it that gave the slightest clue as to where it was made. Throughout the whole thing, the room had been quiet, and still no one said anything.

Tubbs’ face was emotionless. "Lieutenant," he spoke out in a soft voice, "I think Fuente may be shooting another tape already. We busted one of Fuente’s shipments in New York just before we got the video yesterday, and that tape was made three days ago."

Heads shook and a few expletives were uttered under people’s breath. Everyone had seen the instructions at the end of the tape. They hated to think that another one might be on its way.

The first person to speak was Gina. "I need some air," she said as she walked out of the room, barely able to hold back the tears that were welling in her eyes. Trudy made to follow her, and Castillo nodded silent assent. Castillo understood that she needed some time to get things together. Gina walked until she came to a small park a few blocks from headquarters. It was peaceful and quiet. She buried her head in her arm against a tree, and sobbed. Trudy let her have some time and then walked up and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"We’ll get him back Gina," Trudy assured her friend in a whispered voice, but the fear that that might not happen was a lot greater than it had been when she had whispered the same words to Rico that morning at the airport.

On Fuente’s island, Crockett had no idea that a rescue was being organized. Ricardo had taken good care of him and they had actually become friends of a sort. Under his care, he had pretty much recovered from his ordeal though his arms still ached from hanging his weight on them for so long. Ricardo had told him what he knew about Fuente’s plan to get back the money he believed Crockett owed him – about making the tapes and sending them to his old friends in New York and Miami; about the threat of more if the cops didn’t lay off his shipments. Crockett figured Fuente was crazy. He knew in his head that no one was going to ease up on the biggest drug lord on the east coast or go out of jurisdiction just to help a clapped-out retired old vice cop out of a jamb. But he hoped in his heart that he was wrong.

That hope was dashed three days later. When Ricardo came to see him that morning, he looked at Sonny with a frightened look in his eyes and told him that he had heard Fuente say he had lost a cocaine shipment in New York the day before.

"He told them to hurt you again when the heroin starts to wear off today," said the kid.

Sonny didn’t know what was worse – coming to grips with the idea that there really was no one out there who cared or waiting for Fuente and his thugs to appear at the door.

When they finally did come, the routine was the same – hands tied behind his back, shackle removed and he was lead outside.

"I’ve got something very special planned for you today Crockett, courtesy of you friend Detective Tubbs," Fuente laughed. "And Ricardo, this time I think you should watch with us."

Maybe he should just go at him right now Sonny thought. What hope did he have if even Rico, his old partner, wasn’t willing to help him out? If they killed him, they couldn’t hurt him anymore. But if he were dead, he’d never get out of here. No, he thought, I’ll get through it this time and think of some way out of this mess himself.

Sonny hadn’t factored in that Fuente had a different scenario in mind this time.

His first clue came when he realized he was being taken to a different location. This time his arms were outstretched just above head level and his hands were lashed to trees on either side of him.

"Ricardo, rip off his shirt," he heard Fuente say. "I’ll buy him a new one later if he still needs it." The T-shirt was torn away. "OK Ramon, you can start now."

Sonny heard the air swish an instant before the searing pain crossed his back.

"Very good Ramon. You did not break the skin. This way we can entertain Mr. Crockett and his compadres for a long time. After all, we don’t want him to die – not yet at least. I think his friends might enjoy this movie even more than the last one."

Ramon was good. The bullwhip landed where it was aimed and inflicted pain remorselessly. On top of the searing pain from the lashes, Sonny’s body was starting to shake as the DTs once again took hold. Compared to the agony this time, the last time seemed like a cakewalk. The pain was so bad that he didn’t even try to hold back the cries.

It was a long time before Ramon finally did draw blood, and a longer still before Ricardo could stand watching it no longer and begged Fuente to order Ramon to stop before he killed the man. Fuente laughed and ordered his thug to stop, and then gave a syringe to the distraught young man and told him to inject the heroin. As Ricardo took the needle, Fuente told Carlos to make sure that he got a good picture of the kid and the look in Crockett’s eyes as the smack invaded his brain. Ricardo was sick about the whole thing, but he had no choice in the matter. He knew what heroin did to a person and he hated do it, but he realized that bad as it was, it would ease the pain and bring on the healing peace of sleep.

This time Fuente told his men to leave him there and to keep the camera rolling for a while to record Crockett’s limp body hanging there. After a while, fog rolled in and a drizzle started to fall. Above the mournful wail of the distant foghorns Ricardo pleaded that Crockett would die if he were left there any longer, so Fuente had him cut down and taken back to the cabin. His men dumped him on the bed and secured the chain to his leg. Half dead or not they weren’t about to take any chances with this guy. Fuente would have their heads if he disappeared.

"Take the tape to Miami, Ramon, and make sure Castillo gets a copy like before," he said. "And make sure Detective Tubbs gets a copy too. It seems that he would like to receive another episode. Maybe this time he’ll pay more attention. There’s surprise on it for him if only he knew what to look for."

Then he looked to Ricardo. "Take care of this rubbish," he said.

In the cabin, Ricardo dressed the wounds and hurts as best he could with what he had at hand. He bandaged the swollen bleeding hands where the ropes had cut into them. He cleaned off the dried blood and dirt and put a soothing salve on his back and on the backs of his arms and legs where the whip had left its marks. Then he covered Crockett’s body with blankets to keep him warm and sat by his side all night.

The numbing qualities of the heroin had worn off by the time Crockett woke up the next morning, a fact that became very painfully obvious as he started to come to. "Maybe," thought Crockett, "I should have gone for Fuente when I had the chance and let them take me down."

But giving up just wasn’t in his nature. He knew he’d do it what it took to stay alive for as long as possible because that was the only way he could get out of this mess.

The second tape arrived early on the morning of Day 4 of the truce, three days after the first one had been delivered and two days after the task force had first met. This one came by UPS. The mailing date was late the night before from a courier drop box in Miami – no way to trace it. The note inside read: "At the request of Ricardo Tubbs and the NYPD. Remember, your subscription may be cancelled at any time by you or maybe even by me."

It didn’t take long to assemble the task force. Their faces were serious and their voices silent. No one felt like socializing. None of them really wanted to be here, but they knew they had to watch to know what they were dealing with. Maybe, just maybe, Fuente had left a clue, and maybe this time it wouldn’t be so bad. But no one really held out too much hope for either.

Tubbs sat there agonizing over what might be on this tape. He felt responsible, and Fuente’s note only confirmed it. Trudy put her hands gently on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "It’s not your fault," she whispered, "you didn’t know Rico."

Even though he knew she was right, he still blamed himself. He was the one who led the bust on Fuente’s shipment. He was the reason that Fuente had made another tape. He was the reason that whatever they were going to see had happened.

Gina was sitting next to him on the other side, quietly lost in her own thoughts. Switek sat beside her. Unobtrusively, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle, comforting pat.

Castillo put the tape into the VCR, went to the back of the room and hit the play button on the remote. The dead silence in the room was soon broken by the slap of the whip on bare flesh and the sudden cry of astonished pain that came from the television speaker. Various expletives and pleas were muttered throughout the room.

"BASTARD!" Tubbs yelled out, jumping up and shaking a clenched fist the TV. "I’ll kill him!"

He couldn’t bear seeing his friend being abused like that. He remembered another person close to him being destroyed by a creep just as bad as Fuente. A vision of the explosion that killed his lover and baby son flashed through his mind. Men like that would stop at nothing to hurt or obliterate anyone who got in their way. This time it was Fuente, and Sonny was his target.

"I’ll kill you, you bastard!" he screamed out again as the battering continued.

"Quiet!" Castillo ordered in a stern voice. Tubbs sat down and the room went silent again. He was still shaking with anger. Castillo walked quietly over to him and put his hand on the detective’s shoulder. He whispered quietly into his ear: "We’ll get him back Rico, we’ll get him back."

They watched the rest of the tape in silence except for the hushed groans that couldn’t be held in even by the most casehardened detectives. By the time they saw the kid inject the heroin everyone was drained. It was the first time that anyone other than Crockett had appeared on the either of the tapes. He was just a kid - was it a mistake, or had Fuente included him for some other purpose? Somehow, Rico thought he looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the face. Maybe it was some punk he had run into somewhere - another hood on the way up.

The tape kept rolling and they watched Crockett’s head roll forward as the drug took effect. He finally lost consciousness still hanging there suspended only by the ropes that fastened his hands to the trees.

"Take him down," a quiet voice uttered. "Oh please, take him down." Gina didn’t even realize that she said the words aloud.

It was Switek who first heard the sound. Years of running surveillance had attuned his ears to the faintest of noises. "That’s a foghorn!" he shouted out. "Hear that? That’s a foghorn!" The sound was barely audible, but it was there. There were definitely two separate foghorns sounding somewhere nearby.

"Bingo," said Switek. "Now we’ve got something we can work with to figure out where to start looking."

On the screen they saw the mist rolling in and the rain start to fall. The ropes were cut and Crockett fell to the ground.

"Stay alive, buddy." thought Tubbs. "Just stay alive a little while longer and we’ll get you outta there."

Finally there was something to work from. The hope that maybe they could find the island lifted spirits that had had fallen to rock bottom. They didn’t have a lot of time though – a few more days to analyze the data, narrow the search area, find Crockett and get him out.

The rest of that day and the next saw a flurry of activity. The Coast Guard located the foghorns. The FBI computers analyzed the noise levels and determined the approximate distance of the two horns. From the locations and distances, a search area was identified – larger than was hoped for but a whole lot less than what it was when Castillo had first assembled the task force. It was an area full of small islands and cays about 500 miles south of Miami in the Bahamian out islands. Most of the islands were privately owned and almost impossible to trace. On one of them, Mario Fuente was playing his sadistic games. It was going to take too long to search all of them even with the help of the surveillance planes that were out there shooting pictures. Unless they were very lucky, the seven-day reprieve would come and go before they could locate Crockett and get him out.

On the morning of Day 5 a lanky, funny-looking man with large dark-rimmed glasses and a heavy Cuban accent walked into OCB. "I need to see Lieutenant Castillo," he said.

OCB was an undercover operation – no one was supposed to know that this was a police office. Inside the front doors was a reception area that looked like any other office. Anyone who happened to stray in by mistake wouldn’t know that the receptionist at the front desk was actually a police sergeant, and that there were security cameras covering the entrance and lobby. The sergeant at the desk was new. She didn’t know Isidro Moreno, and became suspicious when he asked for Castillo. So she phoned upstairs to let them know that someone was asking to see the lieutenant.

  Rico took the call, and immediately checked the security screen to see who was there. He recognized the man right away. ‘Izzy’ had been the number one informant for Crockett and Tubbs when they worked vice. He was supposedly legit now, but if something was going on in the Miami underworld, Izzy was still certain to know about it. Rico told the sergeant that he would be down right away.

As he entered the lobby from the staircase, Rico smiled and walked over to the man. "Izzy – been a long time man," he smiled, "what can we do yah for?"

"Hey Rico my man," he replied, "welcome back to Miami. You here to help Crockett? I heard that he was in some kinda big trouble with Fuente. Hey, I owe Sonny - but don’t tell him that. He still owes me fifity bucks." Izzy always seemed to have some scheme going. They kept talking as Rico led him to the squad room.

"What do you know about it Izzy?" Rico asked, his interest peaked.

"Oh, a little bit this, a little bit that. The word on the street is that Fuente has him held up on his island and that no one knows where it is. Maybe the Izz-man can help you out mang."

Rico grabbed Izzy’s arm and dragged him the rest of the way to Castillo’s office. "Lieutenant, Izzy here says he may have something that can help us locate Crockett."

"Let’s hear it Moreno," Castillo said, lifting his eyes off the page he was reading.

Izzy was twirling an envelope in his hands. "I don’t know if these will help. A friend of a friend of a friend gave them to me. They’re photographic dispositions he took when he visited Senor Fuente’s island a few years ago. They don’t show much, just some old building and the magnifico house that Senor Fuente contructionated. If I give them to you, maybe there’s some way you can thank the Izz-mang. Like I got some undeserved parking tickets from an effervescent young police officer that maybe he was mistaken about."

Rico glared at the man. "Hand them over now Izzy or this effervescent cop just might constructionate some tickets all over your body." He grabbed the envelope out of the man’s hands and passed it over to the lieutenant.

There was a long pause as Castillo took the pictures out and looked at them. And then the hint of a smile materialized on his face. For the first time since he’d seen the tape in New York, Tubbs felt a glimmer of real hope. It wasn’t very often that he had seen Martin Castillo smile.

"Hey man," blurted out Izzy, "you get Crockett out, you tell him he owes me fifty bucks huh. Maybe plus interest too."

Castillo’s face returned to its usual unreadable self. "Thanks for the pictures Moreno. I’ll remind Crockett he owes you the fifty the next time I see him." He then directed his gaze at Tubbs. "See that Mr. Moreno gets a ride home and then get the force together. We’ll need the airborne surveillance tapes."

He got Izzy a ride and went to see Gina and Trudy. The look on his face was a good sign. Neither of them had seen Rico smile since he landed in Miami. As he walked over to their desks, he punched his fist into the air. The resounding "YES" and the pirouette only confirmed that something good had just happened.

"Get the team together ladies. I’ve got to get me some surveillance tapes. We meet in the strategy room ASAP."

There wasn’t a lot on the pictures, but there was enough detail to pinpoint the island from the surveillance tapes. It took them the rest of the afternoon and into the evening to confirm the location. But by the end of day, they were pretty certain they had the right place. The rescue plan had been pretty much in place from the start. All they had needed to put it into motion was the location and now they had it.

The island was privately owned and outside the jurisdiction of the US. As such, there could be no official support for the group going in – they would be totally on their own until they got back inside the territorial limits. Castillo decided to use his own detectives along with Gina, Tubbs and himself as the strike team. They had all worked together for five years or more and knew each other very well. Besides, they were the ones that had been closest to Crockett - they were the ones who had the most to gain by getting him out, and the most to lose if anything went wrong.

By seven o’clock everyone had left except for Castillo and Tubbs. It was time to go home, get ready for tomorrow, and rest up. The next few days were going to need everyone in top shape. Rico packed up his briefcase and decided to head back to his hotel for a long hot shower and relaxing dinner before getting his things ready. As he was heading out the door, he saw a familiar face from the past entering the building. It was Caroline, Sonny’s ex- wife.

Tubbs stepped back inside with her. It was quite a surprise to see her here. "What on earth are you doing here Caroline?"

"I could ask you the same question Rico," she replied. "Sonny told me you went back to New York. I came here to see if anyone might know where Sonny is. He was supposed to come to Ocala, but he never showed up."

Tubbs didn’t know how much she knew, so he decided to let Castillo handle it escorted her to the lieutenant’s office. He knocked on the door, opened it and invited himself in.

"Lieutenant, Sonny’s ex-wife is here. She’s asking about Crockett. What should I tell her?"

He dropped his head back down and continued sorting the pages on his desk. "I’ll see her. Show her in."

Rico escorted her into Castillo’s office. Castillo rose from his chair and came around the desk to shake her hand. "Lieutenant Castillo," introduced Tubbs, "this is Caroline Ballard, Sonny Crockett’s ex- wife. Caroline, this is Lieutenant Martin Castillo."

"How can I help you?" Castillo asked.

"I don’t know whether you can help me or not Lieutenant. I’m worried about Sonny. He promised our son Billy that he would come to Ocala for his graduation, but he never showed up. It’s not like him to break a promise when it’s important. I know he doesn’t work here anymore, but I was hoping that maybe he might keep in touch. I had to come here on business, so I just thought I’d drop in to see if anyone had heard from him or knows where he is."

"Sonny doesn’t keep in touch with us, but we do happen to know where he is," he replied.

She sighed, "He’s okay then? Billy will be relieved." She didn’t say anything about herself.

Castillo straightened the papers on his desk, and after a slight pause he continued, "I wouldn’t exactly say that," he cautioned. "There are probably a few things we should discuss." He looked up at her. "I was just leaving to get some dinner. Would you care to join me?"

"Thank you Lieutenant, I could use something to eat."

A worried look came over her face. What did they need to discuss? And why was Rico here? He and Sonny had been partners and best friends. Was he here because something had happened to Sonny. "Rico, what’s going on? Why are you in Miami? Where’s Sonny? Is something wrong? Is he alright?"

Castillo looked over at Tubbs. "Rico, would you care to join us for dinner?" Rico nodded yes. This wasn’t going to be a relaxing dinner after all.

They went to a quiet restaurant not too far from the hotel where both Rico and Caroline were staying. Caroline’s patience lasted until they had ordered dinner. "Can you please tell me what’s going on now? You’ve got me very worried."

Castillo was not one to mince words or dance around a subject. He told her that Sonny was in trouble - that he had been kidnapped and was being held hostage on an island in the Bahamas by Mario Fuente. He told her that they knew where he was and that a team was leaving the next morning to get him away from Fuente and bring him back to Miami. "We should be back in a few days," he said. He didn’t add ‘if all goes well’, and he didn’t tell her about the videotapes.

"Why are you here Rico?" Caroline asked.

"Sonny was my partner and my friend. He pulled me out of a lot of tight spots and was always there for me whenever I needed him. I came here to help him out. He looked at her, straight in the eyes. "Don’t worry Caroline, we’ll get him back." But he was nowhere near as confident of that on the inside as he sounded on the outside.

After dinner, Castillo dropped Caroline and Tubbs at the hotel. Rico walked her to her room and opened the lock. Before she went through the door, she turned around, looked at him and gave him a slip of paper with a phone number on it. "Rico, can you phone me when you get back. I just want to know when I can let Billy know that his father’s OK."

"Sure thing, Caroline, I’ll call you as soon as we get back," Tubbs assured her.

She entered the room, went to the sofa and sat down. Why did she feel the same way she used to feel when they were together and Sonny was out on an undercover assignment or heading up a major drug bust? She had left him years ago to rid herself of just that feeling – the feeling that maybe this time he wouldn’t come back.

After Crockett resolved that he would hang in and get out of there somehow, he opened his eyes, looked over and saw Ricardo nodding off in a chair beside the bed. "Good morning kid," he said in a weak voice. Ricardo woke up and edged over to the side of the bed. He helped Sonny roll over onto his back and then wiped his face with a warm cloth. It felt good.

"Thanks," Crockett whispered before a shiver went through him. The heroin was wearing off and the DT’s were starting to kick in. His body ached all over and the slightest movement sent pain messages everywhere.

Ricardo helped him sit up and held a glass of water to his parched lips. Then he eased Sonny back down on the bed, took his arm gently and started rubbing an alcohol-soaked swab on the inside of his arm. "What are you doing?" Sonny asked slightly alarmed.

"This will make you feel better Sonny," he replied. "It will let you sleep so your body can heal."

"I don’t want to sleep that sleep," a weak voice answered back. "Keep that junk away from me."

"You’re too weak. You can’t go through withdrawal like you are - it will kill you. Look, you’re already starting to shake. If I don’t do this, you could die. You’re my friend Sonny, and I want to help you. You told me you wanted see your son again. You’ll never get there if you’re dead. Please, heroin is a bad thing I know. But let it help you for now."

Sonny didn’t argue with the boy. He knew he was too weak to do anything about it anyway. Let the drug do it what it was supposed to this time. Once he had his strength back and got out of here, he’d get the monkey off his back.

Crockett slept on and off for the next few days, partly as a result of the ordeal he had been through, and partly due to the drugs. Gradually, under the tender ministrations of the young man, the sores and bruises began to heal, and he started to gain some strength back. It helped that Fuente didn’t come by. Ricardo told Sonny that Fuente had left the island on business, but had left his men behind. They were under orders to give Ricardo whatever was needed for his ‘guest’ and to make sure neither of them left the island. But other than keeping an eye on things and showing up at irregular intervals to administer the doses of heroin, they were to leave them both alone. Under Fuente’s orders, they timed their visits to ensure that the shot was past due. He wanted Crockett to feel the pain of doing without and beg for it. Fuente had no intentions of making things easy for his guest. Crockett had done more than just take his money. He had cost him a lot of lost shipments over the years. Pain was just part of it. He wanted to destroy the man’s soul.

During those days Ricardo and Sonny became pretty close, both comrades in a bad situation. Sonny liked Ricardo. He seemed like a nice kid – why was he hanging around with a bad dude like Fuente. He asked him what he was doing there. Ricardo explained that he had no choice. His mother had been killed in a car explosion when he was a baby and his uncle had taken him to live with him in Colombia. He was cared for by a woman named Maria, one of his uncle’s servants. Maria was the only mother he had known. She was a good woman, more like a doting grandmother than a servant. She had little love for either his uncle or Fuente, but she feared both of them. Like Fuente, his uncle had been a dope smuggler, just like his grandfather before him. Maria had tried to shield him from his family’s background, but Fuente had filled him in.

Fuente had been a good friend of his grandfather and uncle. When he was just a few years old his uncle had died while on a trip somewhere. Before the trip, he had asked Fuente to raise him should anything happen to him. Fuente took him under his wing, but luckily, he had left Ricardo with Maria most of the time when he was growing up. But sometimes he would take Ricardo on business trips with him. Those trips had become more frequent lately.

A few months ago Fuente had come to Maria’s house and told him that now that he was a young man, it was time to honour his uncle’s wishes and join the "family business". He wanted nothing to do with the drug trade, but Fuente had warned him that he would harm Maria if he didn’t cooperate. Ricardo hated the man and everything he stood for, but he could see no way out without endangering the woman who had raised him. That’s why he did whatever Fuente asked him to.

When Sonny asked him about his father, Ricardo said that he knew practically nothing about him. Maria knew who he was, but wouldn’t tell him. All she would say was that he was American and that his mother had loved him very much, but it would be better if he didn’t know any more than that. She had told him that his uncle had killed Ricardo’s mother, to get revenge on her and the father of her child – his father – but she would never explain why he wanted revenge of such magnitude. Fuente also knew who his father was, but he wouldn’t tell him anything either. He just said that his father was a low-life scum and not to waste his time thinking about him, but he also promised that one day he would arrange for him to meet the man.

"Didn’t your father ever try to find you?" Sonny asked.

"Maria told me that he thought I had died in the car explosion with my mother and that was the way it should be."

Sonny couldn’t help but think that this kid looked familiar, but he couldn’t place the face. Maybe if his head hadn’t been so clouded with drugs and pain, he may have been able to make the connection. But one thing he was certain of, was that after he got out of this mess, he would do everything in his power to get Ricardo and Maria away from Fuente and out from under his control.

When Fuente returned to the island, he was in good spirits. It had been four days since the second tapes had been delivered and three major shipments had landed without incident. Maybe this far-fetched scheme of his was working after all. Realistically, he didn’t think it could last much longer. Sooner or later he knew that the cops would decide that Sonny Crockett wasn’t worth letting all that dope into the country. He decided that the next time he lost a shipment they would not only receive a tape, but also his body dumped into the Miami River. It would be fun watching Crockett die…. veeerrrry slowly. And besides he had already made his three million back. Now it was just for fun. It reminded him of a line from one his favourite American movies: "Revenge is a dish best served cold."

In the meantime, he was getting bored with not having any entertainment on the island so he decided to pay Crockett a visit the next time a dose was due. He wanted to hear Crockett beg for it. "Yeah! Revenge is soooo sweet," he thought to himself. "It would be fun to see him squirm."

At this latitude sunset was followed almost immediately by the darkness of night, and twilight was almost non-existent. By the time Fuente made his way down to the cabin with his two thugs in tow, it was pitchblack. In the cabin, Sonny was cold and shivering. He was lying on the bed curled up in a ball trying not to think about the pain. Ricardo had covered him with a blanket and dimmed the light. He was just about to head up to the big house to beg the men to bring the next does to ease his friend’s pain when the door opened, and Fuente walked in. Fuente was very pleased with what he saw. This was better than he had planned.

Fuente bent over Crockett and whispered into his ear. "Ask me for it Crockett," he sneered.

It was tempting. It would make the pain go away. It would make everything better for a while. But Sonny had promised himself that there was no way he would give in. He had to fight the urge. There was no way he was going to play Fuente’s game, no matter what.

He rolled over and stared the man in the face. "Go to hell Fuente!" was the reply. "You can take that and shove it somewhere where the sun don’t shine."

This was not what Fuente had expected at all. It made him angry. He ordered his men to pull Crockett off the bed and hold him. The he hauled back and punched with all his might into Crockett’s midriff. "I’ll make you want it," he snarled, "You useless piece of shit."

He kept punching, anywhere he could land a blow. Crockett could do nothing to stop him. He was being held tightly, and even if he hadn’t been, he was far too weak to protect himself. Finally Ricardo grabbed Fuente and screamed at him to stop before he killed him. Fuente swung out at the young man and then stopped. "Maybe Crockett is worth a few more shipments yet," he said. "Better not dump the merchandise before I have to. It’s bad for business." At that he pitched the hypo to Ricardo, and then he pulled out a full vial and tossed it over too. "Make it a double," he laughed. He nodded to the goons holding Crockett and said, "Make sure he does it."

Ricardo injected the first dose. Then he re-filled the syringe from the vial and injected the needle again. Fuente’s men were laughing and not paying attention, so he only pressed down part way, removed the needle and slipped it into his pocket. He wanted to save some for later, just in case he needed it. After they were sure the kid had given Crockett the second shot, Fuente’s men laughed. They let him go and he dropped to the floor. Ramon gave him one last kick and then they left, joking as they went out the door, "See you later junkie."

After they left, Ricardo helped Sonny onto the bed. His lip was cut, his nose was bleeding and his left eye was already starting to swell. He felt around Crockett’s body and didn’t find any broken ribs, but it had it had been a savage beating and he wasn’t so certain that there wasn’t any unseen internal damage. He covered his friend with blankets, got a cloth and started cleaning his face.

"Gratias amigo," Sonny muttered in a groggy voice.

"You should not have said those things to Senor Fuente. It made him very angry."

"I know amigo, but it felt good at the time." Sonny’s voice was starting to fade as the euphoria started to invade his mind again. "It felt good at the time," he repeated.

The rescue plan seemed fairly simple. The DEA had loaned them an IGG confiscated cruiser. They would board the boat and head out from Miami early in the morning - it was the morning of Day Six. It was a fast boat, but even at top speed it would take them ‘til late that night to get to the island, and that was if everything went well. They planned to anchor the boat off the island and then, under cover of dark, Castillo, Switek and Tubbs would take the dinghy ashore, find Crockett and get him out. Trudy and Gina would remain on the boat and if anyone came around to check things out, they would play the part of two old friends out for a leisurely cruise holiday who were taking advantage of a quiet place to drop anchor for the night.

The surveillance photos had showed a small cabin in a fairly isolated area on the northwest side of the small island away from the mansion that dominated the southeast corner. They hoped was that Crockett was being held in the cabin making it easy for them to sneak him out once they got past any guards that might be around. If he was in the house, that was another story and things could get a whole lot more dangerous. Once they had Crockett on the boat, it would be full speed ahead for the trip back home.

The plan seemed straightforward enough but there was one thing they could not factor in – the weather. As the rescue team headed southward, they saw a major storm brewing straight ahead of them. They drove into it and kept going as long as they could, but finally had to find shelter and batten down until the worst blew over. They wouldn’t be able to rescue Crockett if the boat was lying at the bottom of the sea.

The tropical storm continued for the rest of that day and into the night. This would move their arrival time to mid-afternoon the next day. It would be too risky to try anything in the daylight, so they decided to slow it down a bit and arrive at night. It would be Day 7 – the last day of the truce. They had to get Sonny out that night, because after that, all deals to leave Fuente’s operations alone were off.

The moonless night was pitch black when they anchored the boat in a quiet cove on the northwest side of the island, not too far from the cabin that had shown up in the surveillance photos. Castillo, Tubbs and Switek put on jungle fatigues, gathered their gear, boarded the dinghy and slipped quietly to shore. They pulled the raft up out of site, covered their footprints and made their way silently through the trees to the cabin. Just as they caught sight of it, they saw two men leave and head towards the mansion. "See you later junkie," they heard coming from the doorway. Rico wanted to jump them and do to them what they had done to Sonny. But they were here to get Crockett out, not get revenge. That could come later.

They waited until they were sure no one else was coming out, and then slipped quietly up to the cabin. There was one window covered with slats, but through the cracks, Castillo could catch a glimpse of the inside. He saw someone sitting beside a bed talking to another person lying on the bed. It was the young man from the tape. The person on the bed was obviously hurt. Though Castillo could not see his face, he knew it had to be Crockett. "You should not have said those things to Senor Fuente. It made him very angry," he heard the young man say, but he couldn’t hear the response.

Castillo waved the others forward. "Looks like Crockett’s in there, and only one guard. Let’s do it."

Switek kicked the door in just before Castillo and Tubbs burst in, guns at the ready, one to the left and one to the right. "On the floor, RIGHT NOW!" ordered Castillo in a low but forceful voice. "Face down! Hands behind your head!"

Ricardo did as he was told. Switek rushed forward and held a gun to the back of his head. At the same time Tubbs dashed over to the bed. He looked down and saw the mess that was Crockett’s face. "Sonny, my man, you look like you need some help," he said with in a soft comforting voice. "How would like a free trip back home?"

Sonny thought he must already be flying. He could swear that the person talking to him was Rico. Rico couldn’t be here – could he? It was hard to concentrate, but he had to. Yes, it was Rico, and someone else, but who? He thought he heard Castillo’s voice. This couldn’t really be happening. Boy he must be really losing it this time.

"Sonny, it’s me Rico. Marty and Swi are here too. Stay with it man – we’re gonna get you outta here."

His mind was fading - he had to stay with it just a while longer. "Rico?" he managed to get out in a weak and confused voice. "Rico, is that really you?"

"Yeah man it’s me."

It really was Rico. As the realization hit, a wave of relief rushed across his body. "I think I need some help." And then, somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought about Ricardo – Rico probably thought that Ricardo was one of Fuente’s men. He had to keep him from hurting the kid.

"Don’t hurt the kid, Rico. Don’t hurt him. He’s a good kid. He helped me. Please, don’t hurt him. You gotta help him Rico."

By now Sonny was pretty much out of it, but he kept repeating his plea to help the young man. Castillo told Switek to let the boy up.

"Who are you?" Castillo asked.

Ricardo was scared. He trusted Sonny, but he didn’t know who these men were or what they would do to him. But it seemed like they were here to help Sonny. He had to trust them – he had no other choice.

"Ricardo," he said in shaky voice. "My name is Ricardo." He told them that he had no part in this whole thing, that he had been looking after Crockett, and that Sonny was his friend. He told them about the beating and that he was worried there might be internal injuries that he couldn’t see. "Please help him. Get him out of here before they come back. Senor Fuente will kill him if you don’t."

Castillo sensed that the young man was telling the truth. He offered to take him with them but the boy refused. He knew that Fuente would harm Maria if he left with them.

"I can’t go with you. They will hurt Maria if I go. Please, go, quickly. Just make it look like I tried to stop you."

By this time, Switek was removing the chain holding Crockett’s leg to the bed. Rico was still talking to Sonny, trying to keep him from fading out completely. At the same Ricardo quietly handed Castillo the hypo that still had a small amount of heroin in it. "Take this," he said. "Sonny is in a bad way. It is a long trip back to your home and he may need this before you get there. It’s not much, but take it and give it to him if he needs it."

Castillo knew what was in the syringe. He took it and carefully put it into his pocket. Then he had Rico tie the young man to the chair while he checked to make sure the coast was clear. Rico made the bindings secure to make it look good, but was careful not to hurt the kid. "Thank you senor," Ricardo said. "Look after him, please. He is a good man, senor. He is my friend."

"Don’t worry," Rico said. "I’ll look after him. He’s my friend too." As he spoke, he looked into the young man’s eyes. Like when he first saw the kid’s face on the tape, Rico thought that somehow he looked familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. He couldn’t help but feel that this didn’t seem right. Before he tied a gag around his mouth to make everything seem more convincing he asked him, "Are you sure you’re gonna to be okay?" he asked.

"I’ll be fine – just get him out of here before Fuente or his men come back."

"Thanks for looking after him kid. Some day I’ll make this up to you." Rico promised, and then he went over to help Switek with Crockett.

By now, Sonny was almost totally lost to the raptures of the smack high. Castillo opened the door and took one last look around to make sure no one was there. Then he waved the others forward. Switek and Tubbs each took an arm over a shoulder and together they half-carried, half-dragged Crockett out the door and back to the beach where the dinghy was stored. Sonny tried to help, but between the drugs and the pain he was powerless to do anything. Castillo followed, keeping guard at the rear.

At the beach, they got the dinghy out from its hiding place and into the water, and then loaded Crockett and themselves into it. When they got back to the boat, Gina and Trudy helped lift Crockett onboard and carry him down below. Switek remained up top and stowed the dinghy, while Castillo started the engines and quietly moved the boat away from the island. Once they were far enough away, he pushed the throttles full forward and headed the boat for home at top speed. Gina and Trudy were looking after Crockett, so Tubbs returned on deck. He walked to the stern, and staring back at the island, he said to no one in particular, "Subscription cancelled Fuente."

The sea was calm beneath a clear, moonless sky. With the stars glittering the sky with their brilliance, it would have been a fabulous night for a romantic cruise. But Castillo had only one objective in mind - to get back to Miami as quickly as they could. As he steered the boat into the night, he felt uneasy. After all that had happened in the past week, it seemed strange for things to be moving along so well now.

It was the middle of the night. Rico, Trudy and Stan were down below, fast asleep, finally able to give in to the exhaustion and rest quietly after the tension-filled hell they had just lived through. He would wake Tubbs in a while to take over for him, and then get some shut-eye himself. Gina had nodded off to sleep in the chair beside Crockett’s bed. Sonny was still deep in drug-induced slumber, but safe at last from the nightmare of Fuente’s island.

Just before sunrise, Rico took over the helm. As he headed the boat northward, he watched the day break. It was as beautiful a sunrise as he had ever experienced. There was clear sailing for a while, so he put the controls on autopilot and went down to see how Crockett was doing. The light in the room was dim. The blinds were drawn to keep out the morning sun. Stan had relieved Gina at Sonny’s bedside and had put on a pot of coffee. "He seems to be coming ‘round," Stan said when he saw Rico enter. "There’s some fresh coffee in the pot. I’ll take the controls for a while if you want. I’ve always wanted to drive one of these babies."

"Thanks Swi," returned Rico. He could use a cup of java. After Stan went up to the bridge, Rico poured a coffee and took his place on the chair at Crockett’s side.

He gently rubbed his hand over Crockett’s brow. "Everything’s OK now, man. You’re gonna be just fine partner." Sonny started to stir and mutter unintelligible sounds. His head moved from side to side and his eyes opened slowly. The left one only opened only a slit and hurt like hell. He tried to take in what was around him but the light was dim.

"Hey partner, how ya doing? Welcome back to the living man."

"Rico?" It was an apprehensive question, barely audible. "Is that you Rico? What are you doing here? Where am I?" The questions were just above a whisper, more thoughts than anything else.

Rico opened the blinds a bit to let some more light in. "Yeah man, it’s Rico. We’re on a boat heading back to the Sunshine State in the good ol’ USA. You sure picked a helluva place for a holiday. Remind me not to make a reservation." They smiled at each other. "Can I get you something Sonny?"

Sonny tried to sit up, but he was still too groggy to do it on his own. "Is that coffee I smell?"

"Switek’s special brew," Tubbs replied. "Want some?"

"Sure. But first, can you help me up?"

Rico got the coffee, cream no sugar, just like Sonny used to drink it on all those stakeouts they shared. He brought it over and put it on the ledge beside the bed, and then put his arms around his friend and pulled him up to a sitting position, holding firm to provide support. When he was sure Crockett was steady, he gently eased his legs over the side. Sonny raised his head and stared directly into Rico’s eyes. His arms reached out and wrapped around Rico’s neck and he dropped his head onto his friend’s shoulder. "Oh God Rico, it is you isn’t it? I’m not dreaming, am I?"

"No, Sonny. You’re not dreaming. It’s me, Rico."

The relief overwhelmed him and Crockett burst into tears on Rico’s shoulder. "Thank God, man. Thank God."

Tubbs held him until spasms stopped and Sonny had control of himself again. "Want that coffee now?" he asked.

"Swi made it you said?" He was a bit less groggy now and his voice was a little stronger. "Better put lots of cream in it then."

"Just the way you like it partner," Rico said as he passed the cup over, holding on long enough to make sure the bandaged hands were steady enough to hold on.

They didn’t say much – they didn’t have to. They had shared too much together in the past not to know what the other was thinking.

Trudy and Gina had heard the voices. They appeared around the corner together. "Good morning Sonny," Gina said. "Sleep well?" she asked with a beaming smile on her face. "You know, it’s just like you Crockett to pass out when we come to rescue you," she said in a voice that pretended to scold. "Can’t you ever stay out of trouble?"

She went over to him and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Welcome back Crockett," she said softly.

"Welcome back Sonny." Trudy smiled and gave him thumbs up from the doorway. "Hey, is that coffee I smell?"

"It’s Switek’s," Crockett and Tubbs answered in unison.

"Better add lost of cream then," said Trudy.

"Can we take this swill outside?" Sonny proposed.

"You up to it man?" asked Rico.

"I haven’t seen the sun for a long time – I’m up to it. Just give me a hand."

Rico helped Sonny up and supported his weight as he walked him out onto the deck and sat him down onto a seat. The ladies poured coffees for themselves and then joined them on deck. It seemed that every inch of his body ached but Sonny hardly noticed it. He was sitting in the sunshine with great company, and he was heading away from hell. Sonny closed his eyes and rolled his head back. "Feel that breeze," he pronounced. "Feel that sun, and breathe that air." He brought his head forward again. "You know, you never know how important things really are until you don’t have them." He looked at each one of them. "Thanks guys. I owe you big time." The words were few, but they said everything.

"You also owe Izzy fifty bucks, plus interest." Castillo declared as he joined them on deck.

"That slimeball! I paid him that fifty bucks a long time ago. Is he still trying to squeeze another fifty outta me?" It felt good to joke again with the old gang. It helped take away the pain.

They sat there for a while, chatting about the old days and what was happening in their lives now, and sometimes just enjoying the beautiful Caribbean morning. Sonny didn’t say much. The exhilaration of discovering he was free had initially masked the aches and pain. But that exhilaration was wearing off and so was the dope Ricardo had given him the night before.

It wasn’t long before he started to feel chilled despite the warm sunshine, goosebumps broke out on his skin and his hands started shaking. Castillo noticed it first. "Crockett," he said, "maybe you should rest for a while. Why don’t I help you down below?"

"Sure." He could only get out the one word.

Crockett was apprehensive, knowing what was coming on. The aches from the beating the night before and the previous ordeals he had gone through were catching up with him, at the same time as the drug was wearing off. Sonny wasn’t looking forward to next little while. He knew that no one would be coming with anything to ease the pain this time, and he knew it was still a long way back to Miami. He had fought the desire the whole time he was on the island. But now, for the first time, he felt himself wanting that needle that would send him into pain-free Nirvana. "No you don’t want that garbage," he told himself. "Hold it together just a little while longer man," he thought. "You’re just about there. You can make it."

Castillo got him inside just before he heaved the coffee he had swallowed a short while before. Castillo noticed that blood was mixed in with it, but he didn’t say anything. He recalled Ricardo’s warning about internal injuries and he knew that Crockett was not out of the woods yet.

Crockett saw it too, but didn’t want to think about it. He had seen the same thing in his urine after Tubbs had helped him to the head earlier. He could also feel the heaviness inside his chest, a different type of pain from the external aches from the cuts and blows. He knew there was something wrong inside him, but he tried to ignore it. He didn’t want to think that Fuente might get the last laugh after all.

Castillo helped him to the bed and got him to drink some water before he eased him down and covered him with blankets to keep him warm. He knew that a person’s body would go into shock with fluid loss, and he felt pretty sure Crockett was bleeding inside. The warmth and liquids would help keep the shock in check. Then he went to a cupboard and took down the syringe that he had placed there the night before. He boiled a pot of water sterilized the point. By this time Crockett was starting to writhe with the pain. He tried to hold it back but he couldn’t. Castillo went over to the bed, took hold of Crockett’s arm, found a vein, and shoved the needle in. By the time Crockett realized what was happening, it was done.

He looked up at Castillo with surprise and anger in his face. "What the hell did you do?"

"I’m getting you back alive. It’s a long way ‘til we can get you some help." Crockett didn’t argue. He just lay back and waited for the aches to go away. There was a look of resignation on his face. "Hang in there," he told himself. "We’ll get rid of this monkey soon."

Tubbs had sensed something was wrong. He decided to go below to check things out and arrived just in time to see Castillo take hold of Sonny’s arm. He figured out what was happening and hated it, but understood the need. He remained at the door silently waiting. When it was over, Rico went over to Castillo and put his hand on his shoulder. "I’ll take over if you want."

"Yeah, okay," Castillo replied. "Let me know if there’s any change. I’ll radio the Coast Guard to post a paramedic team and med-evac chopper at the limits."

Rico sat down on the chair beside the bed and looked at his friend lying there. His eyes were glassy and vacant, but at least there was no pain. "Hang in there man. We’re almost home." He didn’t know whether Sonny heard him or not, but at least it made Rico feel better.

The rest of the trip seemed to drag on forever. The light-hearted bantering of the morning gave way to the somber realism that Crockett was not out of the woods yet. A seemingly endless time later, they spotted the coast guard cutter. A helicopter rested on the stern chopper pad. As they approached, the crew threw out ropes to tie up alongside. The paramedics wasted no time boarding the cruiser. At the same time the chopper fired up its jets and got the rotors turning. Crockett was in a bad way. The small dose of opiate had worn off a while ago and he was barely conscious due to the other injuries. The medics had been given a pretty good idea of what to expect and were prepared. "Hey buddy, just relax, it’s almost over now. We’ll just get things stabilized here and then fly you in."

One of the medics started checking him out – taking blood pressure and pulse readings, and then set up an IV for fluids and connected the pads to his chest that would send messages back to the trauma home base at Biscayne General. His partner opened his case and filled a hypo with a clear fluid. "This is methadone Sonny. It will help take away the pain."

The reaction was almost immediate. Crockett’s eyes opened wide, his chest started heaving uncontrollably and he tried to grab for his neck. He couldn’t breathe, and then everything went black.

"Shit!" he’s going anaphylactic. He’s allergic to the stuff!" the medic called to his partner. "Epi right now! I’m cutting an airway." The medic quickly swabbed Crockett’s windpipe with antiseptic and cut into the airway as his partner injected the epinephrine to counteract the allergic reaction. There was an immediate hiss as air rushed towards the oxygen-starved lungs. He inserted the airway and a bag and started pumping a steady flow of air. The heaving stopped and Crockett’s body calmed.

"He’s fibbing," the voice on the radio calmly reported. "Shock him right now, level 1." They pulled out the defibrillator, attached the pads and charged the machine.

"Clear!" called out the medic.

"Clear," was the reply.

The medic applied the paddles and Crockett’s body jumped.

"Again, level 2," the voice on the radio said, a little louder this time.

Charge, clear, clear, paddles and ….

"Okay, he’s got sinus rhythm. Pack him up and get him here pronto. Fill us in on the details on the way in."

"Roger," was the reply. They were already packing up their equipment and starting to load Crockett onto a stretcher.

The whole thing had taken less than ten minutes, but it seemed like an eternity to the team that had worked so hard to bring him this far. They helped load the stretcher onto the cutter and the crew rushed it into the chopper immediately followed by the paramedics.

As he watched the helicopter rise from the platform and turn its nose towards land, Tubbs whispered a prayer, "Hang in there a man. You can do it." Then he went to the bridge, picked up the radio-phone and called the cell phone number Caroline had given him the night before they left.

"Hello, Caroline. It’s Rico. Sonny’s on his way in to Biscayne General by helicopter."

"How is he?"

"Not good," he replied. "We’re on our way but it’ll be a while before we can get there."

Inside the chopper the paramedics were exchanging information with base and doing what was needed to keep their patient alive until they arrived at the hospital where the trauma team would take over.

"Whew! I thought we were home free back there, now I’m not so sure. It’s ones like this one that remind that it’s not over until it’s over."

The trauma team was ready when the helicopter landed on the roof of the hospital. The stretcher was unloaded and was immediately spirited away inside.

Caroline arrived about the same time. She went straight to emergency and saw the rush of doctors and nurses usher Sonny’s lifeless form into the trauma room. She walked over to see what was happening, but a nurse stopped her at the door.

"Are you family?" she asked.

"Yes," she replied. Well, she used to be, and he was the father of her son.

"You’ll have to wait in the waiting room. Someone will be out to see you when we know more."

Caroline walked slowly down to waiting room. She sauntered over to the vending machine put some coins in and pulled out a cup of coffee after the machine had filled the cup. Then, she sat down and waited.

A seemingly endless time later a nurse came to see her in the waiting room. Sonny’s condition had been stabilized but was still critical. He was being taken to the OR to find out exactly how match damage had been done and to try to repair it.

"Is he going to be alright?"

"All I can tell you at this point is that his condition is critical and the doctors are doing all they can. If you’d like, you can wait in the OR waiting area. It’s a bit more private."

Caroline nodded, picked up her untouched coffee cup and followed the nurse. When they arrived at the waiting room the nurse pulled out a clipboard and gave her some papers. "We need to have some release papers signed. I know this is difficult time, but it would be a great help if you could fill them in for us."

"I can’t," she stammered. Caroline shivered. She remembered having to fill in papers when Sonny had been shot when they were still married, and she remembered filling in the papers when Bob and Joey had been taken to the hospital after the car accident.

"I’ll just leave them here if you don’t mind and you fill them in when you feel like it. I’ll be by to pick them up later."

"No, you don’t understand. I can’t. We’re not related. I’m just a friend."

"Is there someone we should contact then?"

"I don’t know – maybe his brother Jake, but he doesn’t live in Miami. Maybe when his other friends get here they’ll know."

Caroline sat down to wait. The room was quiet except for the soft steady hiss of the air system, and the faint sounds of announcements that came from down the hall. Occasionally a nurse or orderly would pass by, but no one came in. How long had it been now? She looked at the clock on the wall, but the hands had barely crept forward. There were 420 tiles on the floor and 215 in the ceiling. She counted them again – the number didn’t change. And still there was no word, and the hands on the clock hadn’t move much further ahead.

She found herself getting angry. Damn Sonny! Why did he have to get himself into situations like this? Why couldn’t he just have a regular job like anyone else. Why couldn’t he have come to Atlanta with her and Billy and left all this behind? She knew the answer now, just as she had known it when she left him so many years before – because he was Sonny Crockett and that’s who Sonny Crockett was. When she told him she was leaving, she had secretly hoped that he would quit the force, or at least transfer out of vice, and ask her to stay. But he never did.

She had left him a long time ago, and so why was she sitting here feeling this way, her insides in turmoil, waiting and worrying. She knew the answer to that too. It wasn’t just that he was the father of her son. It was because she still cared for him.

  He was her first love, and that love had never completely died. Deep down inside she knew she was still hoping that he would give all this up and come back to her.

Finally someone was coming into the room. She looked up and saw Rico and Lieutenant Castillo. She recognized the others who were with them from a long time ago – Gina, Trudy and Stan. The lieutenant came over to where she was sitting and asked about Sonny.

"I don’t know. The nurse said his that condition is stable but critical. They took him to the operating room. But that was over two hours ago, and I haven’t heard anything since."

They sat down and waited with her. It was easier having familiar people there waiting with her, but it didn’t make the time go any faster.

Finally a nurse walked silently into the room. She looked drained and her expressionless face said nothing. As she approached, they could make out the unmistakable stain of dried blood on her operating greens.

"Are you with James Crockett?" she asked.

They all stood in response. She finally broke into a smile - the news was encouraging - even good. Sonny had pulled through the operation. He was still in critical condition but his life signs were stable, and the doctor believed they had stopped all the internal bleeding. He was in recovery and would be moved from there to intensive care so they could keep a close watch on things until they were sure he was out danger. There were no guarantees, but all things being said, his chances of pulling through looked pretty good at this point. At last, the tensions eased and a feeling of relief descended on the room.

"Can I see him?" Caroline asked.

"I can allow only one family member in at a time and only for a few moments," was the reply.

Castillo looked at the nurse. "We’re all family," he said. The nurse smiled. She had delivered news to the waiting room before and she was very well aware that friends were often closer than family.

"That may be so," she said, not fooled at all by the assertion, "but only one person can go in for now. He’s going to be in intensive for at least the rest of the night, so the rest of you might as well go home and get a good night’s sleep. You can check back in the morning to find out how he’s doing and when you can visit."

Castillo turned to Caroline. "You go ahead. I’ll wait here and take you back to the hotel when you’re ready."

Caroline disappeared down the hall with the nurse. Castillo stood there with his hands crossed in front of him, a hint of a smile on his face. Tubbs and the others traded high fives and smiles.

"Hey, I’m hungry," said Switek. "Anyone want to go for Chinese?"

"You people go ahead," said Castillo. "I’ll wait for Caroline and join you later."

When Crockett finally opened his eyes the next morning he had no idea where he was. He felt so weak – there were tubes and machines everywhere. The sounds of the machines filled the otherwise silent room. He had no strength to move, but he could feel a warm hand on his. His eyes wandered over that way. Caroline – was that Caroline? Oh man he must still really be out of it.

"Hi Sonny." It really was Caroline. He tried to talk but he couldn’t. She placed her hand on his cheek. "You’re safe now, Sonny. You’re in the hospital in Miami. Everything’s just fine. You just close your eyes and sleep now." And she kissed him gently on the forehead.

He was moved to a regular room later that day. His friends came by to check in, but it was still a few days before Crockett was well enough to really enjoy their company. Her business finished and satisfied that Sonny was going to be okay, Caroline left to go back home with a promise for Billy that his father would visit as soon as they let him out of this place.

He was improving every day, but three days after leaving intensive care he was still pretty weak and a long way from leaving the hospital. Regular doses of a clonidine cocktail had pretty much cleaned the heroin out his system, and he was finally able to think straight again. His mind wandered back to his last jog along the beach at Salt Cay, before this whole nightmare had taken place. He remembered that, as he was running along the beach, he had been thinking about who he was, where he was going and what was important in his life. These last few weeks had added a whole different spin to things.

Almost eighteen years ago, he had let Caroline leave with their son. He told himself at the time that it was to make it easier for her, and to protect them from the dangers his life as a vice cop brought on. He had avoided deep relationships until he had met Caitlin and fell in love again. When he lost her and their unborn child in a senseless killing aimed at getting revenge on himself, it confirmed his belief that it was unsafe for him to keep anyone he cared for close to him. He drifted after that, finding less and less meaning in the job that had been his passion. Finally, when he had felt totally let down by the system, he had left his colleagues, his friends and his partner in Miami, and took off on his own to find a place where the water was warm and the drinks were cold - a place where he didn’t know the names of the players. He had shut out of his life or lost the very people whom he cared for the most.

Maybe that’s why he could never settle down and establish something solid. He was afraid to – afraid of being hurt, or of hurting someone close to him. Salt Cay provided a refuge he could return to when he needed a place to rest for a while, a place to try and find himself. But it really wasn’t home – it was a place to wait out the storm.

And then when he really needed help, it was the very people whom he had tried to shut out of his life that came to his rescue. Why?

He really cared for these people, but he had let them down, abandoned them. Why would they put everything at risk just to get him out of a jamb? The answer was almost there, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it, though he knew he would have done the same for any one of them.

He asked them why when they came by to visit later that day.

They just shrugged and looked at each other and smiled. It was Tubbs who put it into words, Rico who always seemed to have a surprising depth of knowledge and an amazing knack of seeing through things and coming up with a simple answer:

"Because we’re your friends man - you’re important to us. Hey, friends are there for you when you need them. That’s what friends are for, man. That’s what friends are for."

After they left, Sonny lay there and thought about the past thirteen years he had been on his own, the feelings he had experienced during the past few weeks, and Rico’s answer to his question.

And James Sonny Crockett finally found the answer he hadn’t been able to quite put his finger on when he had been jogging on the beach on Salt Cay – the answer he been seeking thirteen years before when he had packed his bags and left, wondering whether it was all worth it. That seemed like a lifetime away now.

He had been to hell and back and he had survived, even during the worst of it, because he had found a reason to live and he had believed he could get through it. Despite everything that had happened, he had found a feeling buried someplace deep down inside, that maybe someone cared. And amidst all that cruelty he had met a young man in a bad situation who had managed to keep kindness in his heart.

When all is said and done, he realized, it’s the belief in yourself and in those people closest to you that count most in this life. The bad guys and the other players would always be around – only the names and faces would change. But true relationships are solid and part of who you are. Real friends are there when you need them.

As he lay there contemplating what all this meant, he began to understand why he hadn’t been able to the find peace of mind he had been looking for over the past thirteen years, and even before that - why he had burned out and run away. He was surrounded by good and bad things every day, but he had let the bad ones take over his life and he had lost or shut out the good things and those people who were most important to him. And in doing that, he had lost a part of himself, the part that said Sonny Crockett was an okay guy. Maybe that’s why, even after the intensive therapy sessions he had gone through just before he left, he found he didn’t like the person he had become. Now it was time to stop running away from the good things in his life, the people who were important to him. And it was time to stop running away from himself.

The relief of finding the answer overwhelmed him. He felt like he had been reborn. And for the first time in a very long time he slept a deep and restful sleep.

Epilogue

Ricardo Tubbs tied up some loose ends in Miami and returned to New York and at OCB, work went back to usual.

It was another week or more before Crockett recovered sufficiently from his injuries that he was physically well enough to leave the hospital. The doctor suggested he spend some time in rehab after that to recover fully and deal with the psychological wounds as well. This time he accepted the help willingly. He knew that he had some things to work through and sort out, not only the things that had happened in the last few weeks, but also all the baggage he still carried from the past. The intensive sessions he had been forced to attend just before he left vice had only made things worse – at the end of them he found that he still didn’t like the person he had become.

This time he was ready to deal with the issues, including Caitlin and Burnett, and he checked himself in to the clinic. It was intense and at times difficult, but by the end of his stay, he knew a lot more about himself and he had come to the realization that maybe James Sonny Crockett wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

It was a perfect Miami morning, comfortably warm before the intense daytime heat descended on the city, a gentle breeze blowing across the grounds, humid enough to be soothing but not stifling. Sonny sat outside in the shade of a big old oak tree leaning his back against its ancient gnarly trunk and chewing slowly on a stem of grass that dangled from his lips. He had been two weeks at the clinic, and tomorrow he would be checking out. As he sat there in the peaceful solitude of his thoughts, he was contemplating where he would go from here.

He had come a long way in the past few weeks. There were still some things to work out, but he sensed that he would now be able to face those issues and deal with them when the time was right. Until then, he had decided not to make any long term plans. So he concentrated on the short term. The first thing he planned to do was to keep his promise and head up to Ocala to see his son. He had missed the graduation, but he still wanted to visit with him and with Caroline. He could admit that now. At some point he knew he would have to come to grips with his feelings for her and the realities of that part of his life, but that would have to wait until he had a better idea of where he was heading.

The next thing would be to go back to Salt Cay and pick up the Vitus II. Perhaps he’d just sail around for a while and think about what he wanted to do with his life. Maybe Billy could join him for a while and the two of them could take off and do some deep sea fishing with the new gear he had bought for him.

After that, he would keep his promise to himself and try to find Maria. Ricardo was a good kid. If he could get her out of Fuente’s grasp, Ricardo would be free to leave him too. He’d have to be careful though - he didn’t feel like running into Fuente again, not for a while at least, and certainly not on his terms.

He thought about his time with Ricardo. He remembered the tragic story he told him about his mother dying in an explosion when he was a baby, and about a father who didn’t even know he was alive. Maybe he could find out who and where his father was and help him get in touch with his son if he wanted to.

THE REALIZATION HIT HIM LIKE A TON OF BRICKS – why hadn’t it come to him earlier? Could it really be true? Ricardo looked familiar. Of course he did – he was the image of his mother, Angelina Calderone. Everything fit – the dates, the events, an American father who thought his son was dead, even the name. Ricardo could be Rico’s son – had to be - the son Rico thought he had lost in the explosion so many years before. The image of that day burned across Sonny’s mind.

Orlando Calderone had kidnapped Angelina, his half-sister, and the baby to use them as bait to lure Rico to an isolated point of land that reached out into the ocean. Sonny was there with the backup team, hidden away back of the point, where they could watch and act when the time was right. But the right time never came. Calderone had tied Angelina into the front seat of a car that was rigged to explode either by detonator when he blew it himself or by movement within the car if she tried to escape. Everyone thought the baby was on the seat beside her, but Sonny realized now that Calderone must have only rigged it to look that way. Calderone never got the chance to blow up the car or kill Tubbs. Sonny had watched with Rico as Angelina wriggled free and blew up the car herself to save Rico from her brother’s vengeance.

He had watched Rico fall apart that day, and in the days afterward, had tried to help his friend get through his grief. The hurt diminished with time, but Rico had never been able to fully come to grips with how Angelina could have killed herself and their son to protect him. Now, maybe that one unanswerable quandary could be explained. She had sacrificed herself to save the man she loved, because she knew that their child was not in the car.

And that bastard Fuente knew it. However he ended up with Ricardo under his wing, he knew that he was Rico’s son. That’s why he had him care for Crockett – it was another one of his sick jokes, another way of getting revenge. It was why he made sure that Rico would see Ricardo, his own son, pumping heroin into his old partner, and the sweet thing for Fuente was that Tubbs didn’t even know it.

Sonny sighed as he recalled the explosion that had killed Angelina and the look of despair he had seen in Rico’s eyes as he watched his lover and child die in that explosion. He had to talk to Rico and let him know what he now believed to be the truth. Sonny didn’t know how his old partner would react, or even if he would believe in the possibility. But whatever Rico planned to do, Sonny would back him up and give him whatever help he needed.

After all, that’s what friends are for.

End of Part I

Continuation:   Part II - Reunion

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