“Haven’t you got a party tonight?”
“I can do it on the way. It’s my sister’s fifteenth wedding anniversary.”
“Okay, will you be contactable?”
“I have my cell phone. But George should be on call.”
“Okay, and good luck with the family.”
“Thanks, I’ll need it. I’ll be in early tomorrow.”
He switched off the phone and went to his car. He never liked being the bearer of bad news and when he knew the family that made it even worse. He’d had to do several of these recently and it made him more determined to get Mendoza.
He drove slowly, his mind on the quarry they had been after for four years. Luis Mendoza is a Columbian Drug Baron and head of his own cartel, now living in luxurious splendour on his private island, just outside any single nation state’s waters, but never deemed large enough for any nation to claim sovereignty.
With a veritable fleet of exceptionally fast launches, helicopters and fixed wing aircraft, he was now in a perfect position to ship vast amounts of cocaine to the US and any of the Caribbean Islands.
He was untouchable by individual nation’s legitimate means and yet only too well aware that international agreement rendered him fair game for those agencies determined to see him stopped. The DEA was one such agency and Luis was at the head of their most wanted list. He was also top of Sean’s most wanted DEAD list.
However, with Luis’s money came power and with the power came influence. Some of that influence stretched into various administrations in the region. Sean had a real bad feeling about at least a couple of congressmen and a few key officials in Florida, who seemed determined to make the DEA’s job just that little bit harder.
The Island was a veritable fortress and this would have been their fifth and final attempt to instigate direct action. Another means had to be found, and Sean knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. They thought they had found an informant inside the fortress and it was on information supplied by this source that the last failed operation had been launched.
With another good man dead, Sean was angry, hurt, frustrated and very sad.
He pulled up at the late Chuck Morris’ home.
“God, I hate this bit,” he said to himself.
He walked up the path and rang the doorbell.
Patsy answered the door, she took one look at Sean, shook her head and sat on the floor, crying, “No, no, no!” over and over again.
He spent twenty minutes with her and phoned for her sister to come over. They were both hurt and angry, most of which was directed towards him.
“Why, Sean?”
“I don’t know. It's always a risk. He knew that.”
He told her how he had died and where the body was. Then he left.
He sat in his car and just felt an impotent rage. His determination to nail Luis was stronger than ever.
He drove to the nightclub where his sister, Sue, her husband Norman, and his own wife Lynne were meeting. There were a few other couples, like Norman’s best man and some of the bridesmaids and all their significant others.
To say that Sean was not enthusiastic about this party would be an understatement. Sean would have dearly loved to go home to try to empty a bottle of Jim Beam and cry himself to sleep.
Family duty was family duty and he knew that if he didn’t attend, his sister and his wife would make his life very unpleasant for a long time to come.
He drove into the parking lot of the Mangrove Swamp, a relatively new nightclub, in an upmarket area of Miami’s suburbs. He saw Lynne’s Honda was already there, so he parked next to it. He sat for a moment, gathering his thoughts and finally got out, locking his car. He made his way to the main entrance, with palm trees everywhere. On entering, he noticed that there were a couple of enormous doormen standing at their posts, looking like King Kong and his cousin.
He saw his party at a large round table near the small stage. There were twelve of them altogether and his brother-in-law was already sufficiently lubricated to be at that irritatingly noisy stage of intoxication. He was an insurance salesman and Sean didn’t completely dislike the man, for he provided for his sister and was a good husband and father, but it was just he was such a pain-in-the-ass at times. Sean just had nothing in common with the man, who spent most of his free time on a golf course.
Lynne saw him approaching and got up and came to meet him. She immediately saw that something was wrong.
“Oh, Sean, it didn’t go wrong, again?” she asked.
“Yeah. Chuck’s dead.”
“Oh, Honey,” she said and hugged him. She knew that there was nothing she could say.
“I see Norman is on form.”
She smiled. “Behave. It's their night.”
“I will.”
She smiled at him. “I know you will, honey, but just be nice to him, please?”
“I promise, as long as he behaves.”
They went and sat down and Sean kissed his sister.
“So, Sean, how’s the murky world of the dreaded drug dealer?” his brother-in-law asked.
Sean looked at him and he tried to smile, but just couldn’t.
“Murkier than ever, Norman,” he said and looked away.
A waitress came and obviously wanted to take their orders. Sean did not feel hungry, but he ordered a steak, just for something to do.
Lynne passed him a beer.
“Come on honey, at least make an effort.”
He smiled and squeezed her hand. He was lucky, as she was so supportive.
There was a small stage at one side of the nightclub, as well as a dance floor. He watched as a man in a tuxedo came onto the stage and made an announcement.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is once more the Mangrove Swamp’s honour to present to you tonight, the talented, the delectable, and the very versatile Ma’mselle Michelle la Mimic.”
There was a drum roll as a very tall, and stunningly attractive young woman with long blonde hair took the stage.
She was wearing a short black dress, which sparkled in the stage lights. Her lovely long legs had all the male eyes trying to work out what happened at the top of them.
She was slender and graceful, with a figure that went in and out in all the right places.
She started to sing and she became Dido, and then became Britney Spears. She had a superb voice, very melodic and strong. Sean watched, completely spell-bound as she went through a repertoire of female vocalists, including Barbara Streisand and Dolly Parton. Not just getting their voices absolutely exact, but her whole face and body seemed to take on the person she was portraying, as she used the simplest wigs and small props to heighten the affect.
In between songs, she would encourage the audience to call out names, actresses, media personalities, or any famous female figures. Then, with no rehearsal, she simply became that person. Sean’s starters, spicy chicken wings, arrived and got cold as he watched.
“Honey, stop dribbling and eat your wings,” Lynne said and he was jerked back to reality.
“She’s brilliant!” he said.
“Maybe, but you still have to eat,” she said, smiling at him.
After an hour, her act came to an end and Sean was able to concentrate on his steak as a supposed comedian told some very unfunny jokes.
But at eleven o’clock, Michelle was back, and much to Sean’s amazement as her act was completely fresh. Not one song was the same, even if a couple of the ‘singers’ were. He stared in rapt attention as she mimicked even the First Lady, much to everyone’s amusement.
Lynne even managed to get her husband onto the dance floor, but he was hardly the best company.
Overall, the evening was a success and at nearly two a.m. everyone broke up to go to their respective homes. Sean took a brochure showing Ma’mselle Michelle on the front.
Later that night, as Lynne slept beside him, he tried to sleep, but couldn’t. His colleague’s death had hit him hard and no amount of drink or entertainment would ever allow him to forget. Strangely, as he dropped into an uneasy sleep, it was of the talented, female mimic he thought.