State Of War

“Me, too.”

“What I want to do is to go to church. I want to pray for those people, and I shit you not, I wouldn’t mind hearing some words of comfort. But I just don’t think that’s going to happen anytime soon.”

“You got a big heart, Cool. But I mean they know about your great-aunt’s place, and that means they know about you. You’re on the list. I wouldn’t go home if I were you, or to any friends or relatives.”

“Well, hell, Cooper. Chances are they know we’re here. I don’t know if any place in Miami is safe, so unless you can requisition a helicopter, get clearance to land on the roof and...” Savacool’s voice trailed off. Her bemused disgust look returned. “You’re smiling.”

Bolan nodded at himself. “Some of this is going to require stitches. Gather up Kaino and meet me on the roof in an hour.”

Overtown, Miami

D ELILAH TEASED THE BULLET out of Cocosino’s back. He never flinched. “You got it out?”

“Yes.”

“Rifle or pistol?”

Delilah held up the conical .22-caliber bullet to the single bulb in the room. “Rifle.”

“The FBI bitch...”

Delilah tossed the bullet to the filthy basement floor and the surgical tweezers after it. “You want me to sew you up?”

“Hit me.”

Delilah took a cooked syringe of krokodil and injected it straight into Cocosino’s bullet wound. He visibly relaxed as the cocktail of codeine and solvents flooded his veins. Delilah looked at the rotting yet still strangely vital man beneath her and saw her future. There had been a time when he was one of the up-and-coming hot things in South Beach. Model, gigolo, getting acting jobs and working the club circuit. Then addiction had taken him down to the lowest, most execrable possible path a junkie could go. She had followed him down that spiral path. Then krokodil had arrived on Miami’s shores and taken him from the gutter to hell itself. He had become Cocosino, had become a killer to ensure an endless series of fixes until he could no longer function. Delilah didn’t want to think about what was happening to her own body, but she couldn’t help smelling it. Cocosino would need a new assistant soon. She pushed the image aside with drug-addled insanity and took a sniff of meth before sewing the bullet wound. “I like this El Hombre.”

“I love him. I love everything about him.” Cocosino lay motionless as the surgical needle moved through noninfected flesh. “I want him.”

“They called.”

“What did they say?”

“El Hombre, Agent Savacool and Kaino left the hospital by helicopter. Their whereabouts are currently unknown.”

“That’s not a problem,” Cocosino said.

“We’re out of a job.”

“Lots of people in Miami-Dade need killing. There are plenty of jobs.” Cocosino turned what was left of his face toward Delilah. “And we’ll see El Hombre again.”

Trump International Beach Resort

“W OW .” A GENT S AVACOOL stared out at the Intracoastal Waterway from the twenty-seventh-story balcony.

Kaino looked almost uncomfortable among such luxury. “Jeez, this hotel room is bigger than my house,” he said.

Bolan pulled his hand out of the ice bucket and flexed his fingers. “I was told 1,174 square feet.”

Kaino’s face went flat.

“It is a double suite,” Bolan admitted, and it was pretty damn swanky. “I’ve operated in Florida before. I know a few people who owe me a few favors.”

Savacool gave Bolan a stare equal to Kaino’s. “Donald Trump owes you favors?”

“No, and keep that in mind when you order from room service.”

Kaino waved his taped-up hands as he picked up a menu. “Don’t worry about that, man. A burger and a beer, and I’ll be—” Kaino sat upright in outrage. “A burger costs what! Madre de dios!” Kaino lost his English in shock and reverted to the Spanish of his youth.

Bolan turned to Jack Grimaldi. “Thanks for coming on short notice, Jack.”

The Stony Man pilot grinned. “When have you ever given me notice, Sarge?”

No one raised an eyebrow at the usage of the word Sarge.

“On average?” Bolan conceded. “Never.”

“And now he finally starts talking sense.”

“I got no notice, either,” Kaino concurred.

“Mine was short,” Savacool agreed.

Bolan sighed. “Any of you want out?”

“Oh, hell no!” Kaino laughed. “I’m seeing this one through.”

“To the end,” Savacool agreed.

Grimaldi gave Bolan a droll look. “I gather I’m here for the duration?”

“I’m thinking at least to Mexico. What have you got for me?”

The pilot put a laptop and several files on the dinner table. Bolan’s team gathered around. Kurtzman’s face appeared in fuzzed-out mode on the screen. “There have been a slew of killings in coastal Tamaulipas that are awfully damn similar to Savacool’s boy Christo Bruno’s. It looks as if there is a real fight shaping up for Tamaulipas. Someone is pushing hard to move the Gulf Coast off the Gulf Coast or force them to play ball. Of course they’re not having it, and the bodies are piling up.”

Bolan nodded. “Do we have anything on Salami?”

“An informant told us he’s holed up in a bungalow on Miami Beach. We have it under surveillance. You’ll also be happy to know that the krokodil supply has been seriously disrupted. Word on the street is you just can’t get it. Junkies are picked up left and right committing burglaries to try to steal prescription meds to cook with. But that was always your plan, to make a mess and see who comes to clean it up.”

“It’s one way to get the ball rolling, and we have Cocosino and foreign mystery assassins.”

Savacool gave Kaino a glance. “You sure the sniper was speaking Russian?”

“Man, I couldn’t swear to it.”

Savacool gave Bolan a searching look. “Krokodil is a Russian drug. It would make more sense.”

“In some ways, but like Kaino and I discussed, it’s an awfully long hop from Moscow to Miami to pedal stuff junkies buy with pocket change, and speaking of Russians, when we found Popov he had already had his ass handed to him.”