About Violence

Chapter Seven

“Doyle’s?” I said as Marvin maneuvered into a parking spot. “Seriously? There are probably more politicians and reporters in there than at either The State House or The Boston Globe this time of day. I was hoping for someplace quiet.”

Marvin grinned. “They won’t talk to people like us, anyway. Trust me. We’ll be invisible.”

We went in and took seats at the bar. Doyle’s did a bumping lunch business and it didn’t seem fair to take a table. Besides, facing the bar, I didn’t have to look at all of the politicians in the giant mural behind me.

The bartender was an attractive young woman with freckles and straight black hair and ice blue eyes. “Would you gentlemen like lunch menus?” She also had an Irish brogue, which might mean she was from the old sod, but probably meant she was studying theater at Emerson.

“Just drinks, thanks,” I said. “I’ll have a bourbon Manhattan, straight up please. Start a tab.”

“Stella for me,” Marvin said.

“Sophia knows the ghost boys,” I said. “She says they are very bad hombres. Human trafficking. Child prostitution. Drugs. Human sacrifice.”

Marvin shrugged. Little surprises him. It makes me wonder what he’s seen and what could have made him quit.

“She also seems to have killed the leader’s brother and absconded with ten million dollars.”

The drinks arrived. The bartender left.

“Well, that would explain their animosity,” Marvin said. “What do you want to do about it?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I think taking on a multinational criminal gang is a huge pain in the ass, and I’d really rather hang Mrs. Freemont’s doors…”

“But?”

“I don’t think they will leave me alone now. Even if they get Sophia and recovered their money. I think I’ve embarrassed them and they won’t let that slide. I can let it go. No problem. But I think they are going to want me dead, and to make me suffer, they’ll probably want to kill anyone I care about.”

Marvin sipped his beer. “I think you’re right,” he said. “So? What do you want to do about it?”

I tossed back half of the Manhattan in a single go. It was chilled perfectly and there were beads of condensation on the martini glass. “Honestly,” I said. “I think this Antonio guy has got to die, and his organization needs to be crushed. I’m a regular guy, live and let live. I felt no need to kill Jim, and he is not good people, but I feel a real itch to end Los Fantasmas.”

Marvin nodded, looking into his beer. “It’s as good a hill as any. Better than most.”

I smiled and waved for more drinks.

Marvin was serious, though. All joking had been put aside. “I’m game,” he said softly. “I’ve known for a long time that there are people the planet would be better without. I was good at taking orders, because I’ve always been afraid to make that call myself. If I start wasting the people who I think a net loss for humanity, it would never stop, and I’d end up putting my weapon in my own mouth one day.”

“Bah,” I said, “Trust me, the world is far better for you being in it.”

“Yeah, we both think that now, but if I started thinning the herd to my standards?”

“That isn’t what we are talking about,” I said. “We are talking about pulling rotten teeth. We are talking about making dangerous and terrible people less dangerous and terrible. To me, to Kelly, and to you and Barry.”

“You’re right, but if we go down this road there will be a body count. One or both of us may be among them.”

This seemed to worry Marvin. It didn’t worry me. Nothing does.

The bartender brought the drinks and tried to blind me with her smile.

“How is that different from any other day?” I said. “How is that different from today? We walked into the Green Dragon blind. For all we knew there could have been fifty guys with Mac-10s in there sharing moo shu pork.”

Marvin sipped his beer. “You’re right. This is just bigger, I guess. Barry is not going to like this.”

“Dude,” I said, “you don’t have to do this with me. This has nothing to do with you. You can just go home.”

Marvin gave me his biggest grin and a playful punch on the shoulder. My arm went numb, but for the painful tingle in my fingers. “Don’t be an idiot, Frank. You are my friend. What, you think I’m some sissy? Think I won’t have your six?”

“Marv.” There was a lot in there to unpack, but we were on the verge of getting drunk and it didn’t seem like the best time. Did Marvin think I believed his sexuality defined who he is? Did he? Did he think he had to be braver and tougher because he is gay? Did he think I thought that? Was he trying to be tough and brave because he believed that about me? Too many variables. It was like mirrors stacked in front of prisms in front of mirrors. I am brain injured and we were buzzed. Not the time.

“Marvin,” I said. “You are the best man I know. No question about it. Not an idiot bone in your body. I, on the other hand, have a brain injury that often renders me incapable of recognizing danger. I depend on you, and Kelly, to shepherd me through the pitfalls. I’d be dead many times without both of you. If you sincerely believe my best course forward is to get as far away from this as possible, I will trust your judgment.”

I watched as Marvin thought this over. He took another sip of beer. He put both hands on the bar. He spun a little to the right and then a little to the left on his stool. Had he started drumming his fingers on the bar I would have broken them with his beer bottle.

“Nope,” he finally said. “I think you have to go all the way on this one to be safe.”

“Kind of what I figured,” I said.

“But that means I’m all in, too. We are going to have to kill this motherfucker.”

I looked up. Our Irish bartender was standing at our station, right in front of our seats, and looking at us like we were two dangerous, rabid dogs.

“In a manner of speaking,” Marvin said.

“I’ll take the check, please,” I said.

We made a fuzzy drive back to Charlestown. We settled into the kitchen and Marvin grabbed a bottle from over the fridge, preparing to make drinks.

“Woah! Woah!” I said. “We need coffee. With the news we are going to give Barry? Being shitfaced would be a Bad Thing.”

“You are correct.” Marvin said.

“So. Make some coffee.”

“I’m on it.”

Marvin made coffee and I looked into flights to Miami on his laptop.

He put a mug at my elbow and said, “We can’t fly, anyway. Forget it. We have to drive.”

“Why is that?” I said. I pushed the laptop aside. I was having a hard time making heads or tails of the flight schedules anyway.

“Because I’m bringing my AR-15, and my .45 and a shotgun and about a thousand rounds for assorted weapons. That’s why. Think they’ll be cool with that in my luggage?”

“You have a point,” I said. “I should drive though. No one is going to care about a 940 Volvo.”

“It’s the Mass plates,” Marvin said. “An old Volvo with Mass plates screams ‘liberal asswipe’, and we can not be stopped. You might as well slap on a Bernie sticker and a little sign reading ‘Weed on Board’”.

“You’re right,” I said. “But the same is true of your Subaru. So we may as well fly.”

“And arrive in Miami sans weapons? Is that wise?”

“No one is looking for me in Miami. In fact, it’s the last place they’d think to look. We aren’t going to be very effective sitting in a cell in Georgia or Virginia, though. Let’s just get down there and scope it out, see what we see, and then act accordingly.”

Marvin shrugged. “Another operation without a plan. Sure. What’s one more?”

Barry came in at about 6 pm. We were sober enough and drinking coffee, but that did not make him happy to find me in his kitchen.

“What have you two gotten into?” he said. He sounded grumpy.

“We have to go to Miami to kill some people,” Marvin said. Total conversation stopper.

Barry dropped his bags and threw up his hands. “What the fuck is wrong with you two? Haven’t you had enough? Marvin? You haven’t seen enough blood? Frank? You haven’t seen enough of your own?”

I didn’t think that was fair. I don’t bleed any more than the next guy.

“It isn’t like that,” Marvin said.

Barry held up a finger. He opened the fridge, took out a bottle of Pinot Gris, and Marvin and I watched in silence. Barry got a corkscrew from the drawer, cracked the bottle, and poured about two fingers into a wine glass. He drained it and poured the glass full.

“Almost,” he said. He swigged about a third of that, topped the glass off, and said, “Okay. What’s going on?”

Marvin told him.

Barry came around a bit after he understood the situation. He was cutting cheddar slices and alternating them with slices of a thin baguette called a “ficelle” and slices of pear when he said, “If you don’t do this, people will be trying to kill Frank and Kelly…what? Forever?”

“Pretty much,” Marvin said. “And likely you and me, too. We’ve both pissed in their punch bowl.”

“Not me,” Barry said.

“No, I mean me and Frank. These are the sort of people who don’t just kill the person who fouled the punch bowl, but anyone they care about, too.”

“Ah, Christ!” Barry said. “I thought this was all behind me. How did I get mixed up with you fucking people? And worse! Why do I care?” He put the plate on the table between us.

“Barry,” I said. “This isn’t about Marvin. Talk to him. He doesn’t have to do this. This is all about me. They don’t know who Marvin is.”

Barry laughed in my face. “You asshole. You think this about you? This is about who we are and what we will risk to be who we are. Marvin can’t let this go and I can’t ask him to.”

I had nothing to say to that. Were things reversed, I’d feel exactly the same way.

“So what’s your plan?” Barry asked.

It was Marvin’s turn to laugh. “Plan?”

In the morning Barry drove me to the bank where I made a withdrawal of $15,000 in $100 bills. I separated out $5,000 and put it in my pocket. I took the other hundred bills and wrapped them tightly in newspaper and put them in a padded mailer, the type you would use to mail a book, which was addressed to Kelly at General Delivery, New Shoreham, Rhode Island 02807. The island would be deserted in November, but if one of the bed and breakfasts was open, no one would ever think to look for them there and any violent strangers would stand out like orangutans in a ballet.

“Okay,” I said. “Quick stop at the post office and then you can drop us at Logan.”

Barry didn’t say anything. We drove to the post office and I mailed my package.

“Anything flammable, corrosive or hazardous?”

“No,” I said. “It’s a book.”

“Would you like to purchase insurance?”

“Yes.”

“How much would you like to insure it for?”

“Ten thousand dollars,” I said.

“Ten thousand dollars?”

“It’s a really good book.”

I paid extra for overnight delivery and then I was back in the car and we were on our way to Terminal B.

Marvin was correct, of course. Neither of us knew anything at all about Miami, Los Fantasmas, or Antonio Granillo. We knew nothing of the Miami underworld, the surrounding area, the restaurants and bars and clubs.

“We went to South Beach for three days in 1996,” Barry said. “I know there is a lot of sun, and a lot of skin, and they make really good rum drinks and they’ll bring them to your blanket. That’s what I know about Miami.”

“More than I do,” I said.

“Doesn’t matter,” Marvin said. “We’ll just poke around a little, book the rooms and rent some wheels with my card since I’m not on anyone’s radar. Tomorrow we can call Kelly and see if Sophia has any ideas.”

“Well, I booked a direct flight online. Got you both seats in the exit row because there is extra leg room,” Barry said.

Marvin had packed a small carry on, but I had not returned home and was traveling with what I was wearing. I’d have to hit a department store after we picked up the car to buy some more suitable clothes. The weather ap on Barry’s phone told us the current temperature in Miami was nearly 83 degrees. It was probably safe to lose a few layers.

Barry pulled up at the curb in front of the terminal. Marvin leaned over and gave him a kiss, and then we were both standing on the sidewalk. Barry hit a button and the passenger window rolled down. A cop was waving at him, telling him to move along.

“Have fun storming the castle,” Barry shouted and he waved. We waved back and then went in to get our boarding passes.

Five hours later we were slightly frazzled and standing at the car rental counter in Miami. The warm air felt fantastic, as if we’d dozed off for a short nap at the beginning of a Boston winter and woken to find spring well under way. Marvin was looking over the options.

“I can get a new Charger,” Marvin said. “You want to be Crockett or Tubbs?”

“Maybe something a little less flashy?”

“How about a gray Ford Fusion?”

“Sounds more like it.”

While Marvin was doing the paperwork for the car I looked over brochures for tourist attractions and hotels. I found one called The Dorango Plaza Suites that seemed functional.

Marvin returned with the paperwork. “This looks about right,” I said and handed him the flier.

“Sure,” Marvin said. “But we won’t be able to golf there. We’ll still have to go the Biltmore to golf.”

“Yeah, but the Biltmore will be about $450 a room. Let’s see how it works out. We can always move if you feel the cabana service is wanting.”

“Sure.”

“First stop, strip mall,” I said.

“Second stop,” Marvin said. “First stop, hardware store.”

“Hardware?”

“One can never have too much hardware.”

We picked up the car. I made a mental note be sure we returned it with a full tank.

We had no luggage to speak of, so we went shopping. Marvin’s first stop was a Home Depot. Marvin knew just what he was after. He went to the hand tools aisle and took two Klein Tools serrated duct knives. These were tools made for working with metal duct, but were also, for all practical purposes, daggers. Marvin put two in the basket along with a sharpening stone. I watched as he shopped. He bought a one hundred foot bundle of paracord, two good quality flashlights and two more LED lamps that could be worn on your head. In the safety equipment aisle he bought two pairs of impact resistant sunglasses, a box of nitrile gloves, and two pairs of thin leather work gloves. In plumbing, he bought two twenty-eight inch lengths of ¾ inch black pipe and two rolls of duct tape. In the toolbox department he bought a heavy nylon tool bag made by Husky.

“If they are on the floor in the back seat, they are weapons. In a tool bag, they are just tools,” he said.

He added a small pry bar and a bundle of heavy duty cable ties.

“Good to go,” he said.

At the register he picked up a roll of black friction tape.

As the cashier was ringing him up, Marvin said, “Hey. We’re new in town. Is there a Target or a Walmart nearby?”

“Sure.” The cashier gave us good directions.

My trip through the men’s department at Target was far less exciting. I bought a pair of black Levis, four black t-shirts, a pair of khaki cargo shorts, a bathing suit, a four pack of briefs, and a package of white athletic socks. Marvin bought a yellow Hawaiian print shirt that would give Don Ho a heart attack, a pair of black Levis, two t-shirts and a bundle of black athletic socks. There was a shoe store in the same complex, so I bought a pair of black low top Converse All Stars and a pair of sandals. Marvin bought a cheap pair of flip flops and a Miami Marlins baseball hat. I bought another cheap phone with a prepaid plan.

“When in Rome,” Marvin said when he caught me looking at his new hat.

The hotel was only blocks away, on NW 107th Ave, overlooking a cow pasture. Coming from Cambridge, this struck me as odd, but sort of charming, too. In short order we had two adjoining rooms on the third floor. Both rooms overlooked the parking lot. I’d have preferred a view of the cows, but it didn’t seem worth bringing up. I was taking the tags off of my purchases and putting things in drawers. Marvin sat on the end of the bed, wrapping the bottom third of the steel pipe with friction tape. It was a very serviceable baton. In Marvin’s hands, anything less than three or four trained individuals with firearms would not have a chance.

“It’s only seven,” I said. “What do you want to do?”

“We should just chill tonight, I think. Have dinner somewhere, watch some television while I put a decent edge on these knives.”

“Sure,” I said.

“You can call Kelly, too. See if Sophia has any idea regarding where we might start looking.”

“Good idea. See what restaurants are around.”

Marvin pointed out the window. A block away there was a Red Lobster.

“That works,” I said.

I called Kelly.

“Oy,” she said.

“It’s me.”

“I figured,” she said. “Phone isn’t ringing off the hook.”

“You both okay?”

“Oh yeah. We’re actually having a great time. I get the feeling this girl hasn’t known much freedom in her life. She is loving just drifting with the wind.”

“Enjoy it. Don’t worry. I sent the money overnight. It should be there when you get there.”

“Marvin with you?”

“Yep, he’s right here, sharpening the cutlery. It’s warmer here than I’d expected.”

“That was fast,” Kelly said.

“No reason to delay. She around? I need to talk to her.”

“Sure, she’s right here.”

“Hello,” Sophia said.

“Hey. It’s me.”

“Okay.”

“We’re going to start looking for ghosts tomorrow. Where should we start?”

“I’ve heard there’s a house on Key Biscayne, but I don’t think it’s Antonio, and there is a compound west of the city somewhere. Probably stash houses scattered around. Most of the hustlers work in Overtown and Hileah, but because they are a Hispanic gang? Maybe the strip clubs in Palmetto Bay. You have to understand. It’s like Boston was parked on a swamp and then flattened. Same stuff, just spread out thinner, and wetter, and sometimes, meaner. It is Dade County.”

“Okay. Thanks. Give the phone to Kelly.”

“Kelly here.”

“Keep flying low. Keep moving. This will be my new number for awhile. If you need to call me, call. Otherwise, wait for me to call you.”

“Okay.”

“Do me favor though? A Mrs. Freemont was expecting me to show up and hang some doors for her yesterday. Would you call and tell her something? Death in the family. Appendicitis? I just feel lousy about leaving her hanging, but I’ve been busy.” I gave Kelly the number.

“Aye aye, Captain.” She said.

“Come on. It’s not like that.”

“No, you’re right. You suck as a boyfriend in so many ways, but I’m on a great road trip. I can’t complain. I’ll call her.”

“Thanks.”

And that was that.

“Boyfriend?” I thought.

Marvin was watching some show about looking for a house on the beach in a third world nation while hoping for the right amenities, and he was putting an edge on the duct knife with the sharpening stone.

“It’s good steel,” he said. “Can’t believe they can sell these for fifteen bucks and make a dime. Look.” He picked up a room service menu and with no apparent effort sliced it in two as if it were tissue. “I think they don’t sharpen them properly on purpose. This is a better knife—well, almost as good a knife—as the knife I was issued back in the day. Don’t get me wrong. A K-Bar is made with better steel and has a cool sheath and all…but last time I looked they sold for a bit more than fifteen times what we paid for these. Maybe we should let Home Depot do the purchasing for the Pentagon.”

“And pigs will take wing,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said. “What was I thinking? Sophia give you anything?”

“I have an idea,” I said. “We’ll have to get dirty, though.”

“Why?”

“Marvin,” I said, “We are looking for human traffickers and pimps. How are we going to look?”

“You’re asking me?”

“I think we start with prostitution,” I said. “No one is standing on the streets in most cities. So where do we look?”

Marvin thought carefully. “Let’s throw some money at the biggest assholes at the shittiest bars. There have to be people making the connections. And, of course, strip clubs.”

“We have a plan.” I said.

I went to my room, undressed, and was sound asleep in ten minutes. Marvin went to Red Lobster on his own. He’s a big boy.