I flick the cigarette over her shoulder. “I’ve heard that from you people before. Go find him yourself.” Munroe storms off toward the front entrance of the condo complex.
I turn to Conroy. “Well, how about that drink?”
“As long as you’re Idea of a bar is not one of those god awful nightclubs.”
“Well then, I think you will enjoy Jacksons. They have a nice mellow atmosphere with a nice view of the bay.”
“Interesting. We must be on the same wavelength because that was on my mind. I’ll buy.”
I chuckle. “My kind of man,” I say, sitting down in the car.
***
We find our seats on the windy balcony overlooking the Seddon Channel on the northern end of the Davis Islands. The waiter comes to the table. I order a double of scotch and Agent Conroy orders the same. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.” He walks away.
“So you ready to tell me who his contacts are? Being’s I’m along for the ride,” I say, sparking a smoke.
“Yes. The only contacts he has here in Florida is a cartel member named Mateo Garza and a Russian Mobster who goes by the name Timur the Czar.”
“Mateo Garza, I know him he is or was a big shit drug lord in Miami till he got greedy and stupid. I arrested Mateo for drug trafficking in Miami when I was DEA. He must be trying to start over in Tampa.” I take a drag from my smoke, exhaling into the wind. “I guess the 7 years in the can didn’t teach him a damn thing.” I glance at a bright green speed boat racing down the channel. “Not surprised though, people like him are too fucking stupid for anything else. But I had no idea he had the rep to be used as an MI6 contact.”
Conroy chuckles. “Yes, Mr. Garza has other skills than just the drug trade.”
Our drinks arrive at the table. Taking a sip of my drink and puffing my smoke. “So this other scumbag, Timur the Czar, does he have a last name, a real last name?”
“If I knew I would tell you,” he says, sipping his drink.
I cross my legs and throw my hands out to my side. “Well, beings you’ willing to be so forthcoming, how’s about you cut the bullshit.”
He turns his head to the side. “And what bullshit would you be referring to? Is this round two of your blame Olympics?”
I exhale smoke from my nose. “The bullshit where you expect me to believe it took the MI6 several weeks to figure out one of their people was here strangling and cutting up the rich.”
He flashes a smug smile. “Detective, Drake is well trained in the arts of evasion. The fact you haven’t caught him yet is a testament to that.”
“Agent Conroy, if I find out that he was sent here by the MI6 on a mission to kill these people in my city. I will throw gas on you and burn you to the fucking ground.”
He sighs, rubbing his forehead. “Detective, I am here to help you, not put up with your half-assed accusations. So knock it off, or I’m on the first flight back to London!”
I know something stinks about this, but I got nothing but my gut and the word of a psychopath.
“Half-assed? What about Drake killing Cala Sadir?”
“What about her? She was a vile human being who sold arms to terrorists. As far as I’m concerned, a karma debt paid.”
“She was also my partner’s wife. Drake and his partner killed his wife and kids. Now, I don’t give a shit how bad a person she was; there’s no fucking excuse for killing their daughters. You still going to tell me your people didn’t send him here to conduct operations? He’s getting his intel from somewhere.”
“My agent still has his old contacts; we locked him out of our databases. Detective, Drake is acting on his own accord. No one is pulling his strings. As I said before, he has gone rogue and apparently grabbed himself a little helper. He sips his drink, chomping on a piece of ice. “Listen, my agency has done some horrific things, but we do not condone this.”
I blow smoke from my nose while glaring at him.
“Yeah… we’ll see.” I take a sip from my glass. “Anyway, how do we find Mateo and Timur?”
“Well, lucky for you, Mateo will be easy to find. He lives in a fancy high rise apartment in St Petersburg and Timur, he is a hard man to find. So Mateo is our best bet. However, I will go with you to talk to Mateo in St Petersburg.”
Mateo still living the high life. Nothing has changed. I write down the two names he mentioned and take another sip of scotch. “I don’t need you up my ass. I am more than capable of talking to him.”
“It’s not a matter of capability, Detective. It’s a matter of he will only talk to MI6 or David Drake, and considering you arrested him, he may just throw you out of his apartment window.”
Just great now, I get a babysitter, always a goddamn catch.
“Mateo is hold up at Florencia Condos in Downtown St Pete.”
“I know that place. C’mon, let’s go chat with my old friend.”
We finish up our drinks and pay our tab. On our way out, the rock band rehearsing reminded me of what a terrible sister I am for missing my brother’s concert so many times.
A crackle of thunder booms through the sky, and I run to my car when the light drizzle turns into a torrential downpour as if God is just pissing on the world. Cranking the car, I pull out on to the street. He didn’t have to give me the address of Mateo, I know precisely where those condos
