Fan Fiction

Prologue :: Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 :: Chapter 8 :: Chapter 9 :: Chapter 10 :: Chapter 11

The horrors of war had left their mark, but the changes were subtle enough to be missed by the untrained eye. Martin studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror and wondered why he had never noticed this before.

His hairline had remained intact, his complexion still marred by the familiar acne scars. But now, deep lines creased his forehead, sunken cheeks making his face appear long and gaunt. His black eyes blazed back with a tightly controlled anger. Any hint of a smile had hardened years ago, the dark mustache doing little to soften the impression.

Smoothing back his thick hair, he frowned slightly when he noticed the icy strands of gray.

When did this happen?

The black suit and tie he had chosen may have seemed out of place for tropical Miami, but today he was taking on his new command he needed to project an image of discipline. Rules would have to be established. Respect would have to be earned.

The kettle whistled from the kitchen and heading toward the sound, he began to massage his temples gently. The headache from the night before had worsened and he knew that for now, green tea would be the only thing his stomach would tolerate. He carefully measured out the dried tealeaves into a ceramic cup and pouring the boiling water over them, waited patiently for the healing aroma to reach him.

Already, sunlight had begun to streak the morning sky with soft shades of mauve and pink. The soothing sight distracted him for the moment and taking the tea outside, he leaned against the deck railing, hoping to make the most of his last few moments of solitude.

“We need you, Martin,” Police Commissioner Jorgenson had said to him just two weeks before. “The Vice squad is in chaos. Lou Rodriguez was a good man, well liked and respected by his people…and yes, their arrest record was impressive. But when it came to following correct procedure...well…” He chuckled lightly. “Lou always seemed to get results without riding his staff too hard, but now he’s gone and some of these guys are going to need some reining in. That’s why we called you in. You’re tough and your military record from Nam speaks for itself. But actually, it was State Senator Doug Hanson who tipped the scales in your favor. He kept insisting you were the man for the job.”

Martin ignored the hollow endorsement. It was no secret Hanson had been trying to bury him ever since the embarrassing investigation into last November’s voting irregularities. No doubt the Senator’s suggestion was more of an attempt to keep him in line than the department’s plea for assistance.

He stared back hard at Jorgensen. “There were quite a few openings posted down at headquarters. Funny, I don’t recall filling out a transfer request for Vice.”

Jorgenson shrugged slightly. “So I pulled a few strings. If you can’t see it as a promotion, then, for God’s sake, Martin, take it as a compliment.” He closed the file and sat back in his chair. “I thought you were a man who welcomed a battle. Even without Hanson’s push, you were the one I had thought of from the beginning.”

The commissioner turned his head toward the window behind him, glancing down at the traffic below.

“This city has been in trouble for some time. Drugs and prostitution are rampant. Organized crime has already gotten a solid foothold in the gambling arena. Add to that the shooting of some tourists last week with a stolen AK47 and the mob of college students about to invade us on their spring break…”

He looked back again, his pale eyes studying Martin carefully. “Miami is at war on many fronts, Martin. The challenge is there. All you have to do is accept it as your own.”

The air in the room had become heavy, oppressive, the lazy fan above them barely whispering a breeze.

“I accept,” Martin answered at last.

A smile of relief washed over the commissioner’s face. “Good. Then Metro Dade will be expecting you to report in two weeks from today, November 5^th. Will that be enough time for you to finish up downtown?”

“Yes, sir. Captain Braddock and I have a few things to review, but I’ve already turned over most of my files and the report from my last assignment.”

“Okay, fine. So that’s it then, I guess.”

“Yes. That’s it.”

Jorgenson rose from his seat and held out his hand. “Thank you, Martin. And…good luck…”

Castillo accepted the handshake. He had not been moved by the flattery, but the sentiment seemed sincere. No point in holding Jorgenson responsible for the politics behind the new assignment. After all, the man was only doing his job.

“Thank you, sir,” he answered, a thin smile softening his face.

Secretly, he was delighted at the prospect of working in Miami. He had grown up there; he knew the people and their neighborhoods well. Some of the gangs that had terrorized the streets when he was a teenager were still using violence to hold the residents of Little Havana hostage.

And it was true, his DEA connections from the old days would be invaluable in his fight against the drug world and his familiarity with the trade routes and the methods of transport would give him a definite edge.

With all that considered, the department’s choice had been a good one…for him as well as for Miami, even though it would be considered by many as a dead end for a promising career.

The wind chimes on the porch jangled gently, the fragrance of jasmine filling the air. He checked his watch for the third time.

Seven fifteen.

The green tea was cold now, but he sipped what was left anyway, patting his mouth dry with a white handkerchief when he had finished.

“Time to go,” he said aloud to no one in particular.

“Time for the war to begin,” was the whisper in his heart.

Prologue :: Chapter 1 :: Chapter 2 :: Chapter 3 :: Chapter 4 :: Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 :: Chapter 7 :: Chapter 8 :: Chapter 9 :: Chapter 10 :: Chapter 11