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Part I: Rebirth
Chapter 1 ::
Chapter 2 ::
Chapter 3 ::
Chapter 4 ::
Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 ::
Chapter 7 ::
Chapter 8
Part II: Reunion
Chapter 1 ::
Chapter 2 ::
Chapter 3 ::
Chapter 4 ::
Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 ::
Chapter 7 ::
Chapter 8
On Fuente's island, Crockett had no idea that a rescue was being organized. Ricardo had taken good care of him and they had actually become friends of a sort. Under his care, he had pretty much recovered from his ordeal though his arms still ached from hanging his weight on them for so long. Ricardo had told him what he knew about Fuente's plan to get back the money he believed Crockett owed him -- about making the tapes and sending them to his old friends in New York and Miami; about the threat of more if the cops didn't lay off his shipments. Crockett figured Fuente was crazy. He knew in his head that no one was going to ease up on the biggest drug lord on the east coast or go out of jurisdiction just to help a clapped-out retired old vice cop out of a jamb. But he hoped in his heart that he was wrong.
That hope was dashed three days later. When Ricardo came to see him that morning, he looked at Sonny with a frightened look in his eyes and told him that he had heard Fuente say he had lost a cocaine shipment in New York the day before.
"He told them to hurt you again when the heroin starts to wear off today," said the kid.
Sonny didn't know what was worse -- coming to grips with the idea that there really was no one out there who cared or waiting for Fuente and his thugs to appear at the door.
When they finally did come, the routine was the same -- hands tied behind his back, shackle removed and he was lead outside.
"I've got something very special planned for you today Crockett, courtesy of you friend Detective Tubbs," Fuente laughed. "And Ricardo, this time I think you should watch with us."
Maybe he should just go at him right now Sonny thought. What hope did he have if even Rico, his old partner, wasn't willing to help him out? If they killed him, they couldn't hurt him anymore. But if he were dead, he'd never get out of here. No, he thought, I'll get through it this time and think of some way out of this mess himself.
Sonny hadn't factored in that Fuente had a different scenario in mind this time.
His first clue came when he realized he was being taken to a different location. This time his arms were outstretched just above head level and his hands were lashed to trees on either side of him.
"Ricardo, rip off his shirt," he heard Fuente say. "I'll buy him a new one later if he still needs it." The T-shirt was torn away. "OK Ramon, you can start now."
Sonny heard the air swish an instant before the searing pain crossed his back.
"Very good Ramon. You did not break the skin. This way we can entertain Mr. Crockett and his compadres for a long time. After all, we don't want him to die -- not yet at least. I think his friends might enjoy this movie even more than the last one."
Ramon was good. The bullwhip landed where it was aimed and inflicted pain remorselessly. On top of the searing pain from the lashes, Sonny's body was starting to shake as the DTs once again took hold. Compared to the agony this time, the last time seemed like a cakewalk. The pain was so bad that he didn't even try to hold back the cries.
It was a long time before Ramon finally did draw blood, and a longer still before Ricardo could stand watching it no longer and begged Fuente to order Ramon to stop before he killed the man. Fuente laughed and ordered his thug to stop, and then gave a syringe to the distraught young man and told him to inject the heroin. As Ricardo took the needle, Fuente told Carlos to make sure that he got a good picture of the kid and the look in Crockett's eyes as the smack invaded his brain. Ricardo was sick about the whole thing, but he had no choice in the matter. He knew what heroin did to a person and he hated do it, but he realized that bad as it was, it would ease the pain and bring on the healing peace of sleep.
This time Fuente told his men to leave him there and to keep the camera rolling for a while to record Crockett's limp body hanging there. After a while, fog rolled in and a drizzle started to fall. Above the mournful wail of the distant foghorns Ricardo pleaded that Crockett would die if he were left there any longer, so Fuente had him cut down and taken back to the cabin. His men dumped him on the bed and secured the chain to his leg. Half dead or not they weren't about to take any chances with this guy. Fuente would have their heads if he disappeared.
"Take the tape to Miami, Ramon, and make sure Castillo gets a copy like before," he said. "And make sure Detective Tubbs gets a copy too. It seems that he would like to receive another episode. Maybe this time he'll pay more attention. There's surprise on it for him if only he knew what to look for."
Then he looked to Ricardo. "Take care of this rubbish," he said.
In the cabin, Ricardo dressed the wounds and hurts as best he could with what he had at hand. He bandaged the swollen bleeding hands where the ropes had cut into them. He cleaned off the dried blood and dirt and put a soothing salve on his back and on the backs of his arms and legs where the whip had left its marks. Then he covered Crockett's body with blankets to keep him warm and sat by his side all night.
The numbing qualities of the heroin had worn off by the time Crockett woke up the next morning, a fact that became very painfully obvious as he started to come to. "Maybe," thought Crockett, "I should have gone for Fuente when I had the chance and let them take me down."
But giving up just wasn't in his nature. He knew he'd do it what it took to stay alive for as long as possible because that was the only way he could get out of this mess.
The second tape arrived early on the morning of Day 4 of the truce, three days after the first one had been delivered and two days after the task force had first met. This one came by UPS. The mailing date was late the night before from a courier drop box in Miami -- no way to trace it. The note inside read: "At the request of Ricardo Tubbs and the NYPD. Remember, your subscription may be cancelled at any time by you or maybe even by me."
It didn't take long to assemble the task force. Their faces were serious and their voices silent. No one felt like socializing. None of them really wanted to be here, but they knew they had to watch to know what they were dealing with. Maybe, just maybe, Fuente had left a clue, and maybe this time it wouldn't be so bad. But no one really held out too much hope for either.
Tubbs sat there agonizing over what might be on this tape. He felt responsible, and Fuente's note only confirmed it. Trudy put her hands gently on his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "It's not your fault," she whispered, "you didn't know, Rico."
Even though he knew she was right, he still blamed himself. He was the one who led the bust on Fuente's shipment. He was the reason that Fuente had made another tape. He was the reason that whatever they were going to see had happened.
Gina was sitting next to him on the other side, quietly lost in her own thoughts. Switek sat beside her. Unobtrusively, he put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle, comforting pat.
Castillo put the tape into the VCR, went to the back of the room and hit the play button on the remote. The dead silence in the room was soon broken by the slap of the whip on bare flesh and the sudden cry of astonished pain that came from the television speaker. Various expletives and pleas were muttered throughout the room.
"BASTARD!" Tubbs yelled out, jumping up and shaking a clenched fist at the TV. "I'll kill him!"
He couldn't bear seeing his friend being abused like that. He remembered another person close to him being destroyed by a creep just as bad as Fuente. A vision of the explosion that killed his lover and baby son flashed through his mind. Men like that would stop at nothing to hurt or obliterate anyone who got in their way. This time it was Fuente, and Sonny was his target.
"I'll kill you, you bastard!" he screamed out again as the battering continued.
"Quiet!" Castillo ordered in a stern voice. Tubbs sat down and the room went silent again. He was still shaking with anger. Castillo walked quietly over to him and put his hand on the detective's shoulder. He whispered quietly into his ear: "We'll get him back Rico, we'll get him back."
They watched the rest of the tape in silence except for the hushed groans that couldn’t be held in even by the most casehardened detectives. By the time they saw the kid inject the heroin everyone was drained. It was the first time that anyone other than Crockett had appeared on the either of the tapes. He was just a kid - was it a mistake, or had Fuente included him for some other purpose? Somehow, Rico thought he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place the face. Maybe it was some punk he had run into somewhere - another hood on the way up.
The tape kept rolling and they watched Crockett's head roll forward as the drug took effect. He finally lost consciousness still hanging there suspended only by the ropes that fastened his hands to the trees.
"Take him down," a quiet voice uttered. "Oh please, take him down." Gina didn't even realize that she said the words aloud.
It was Switek who first heard the sound. Years of running surveillance had attuned his ears to the faintest of noises. "That's a foghorn!" he shouted out. "Hear that? That's a foghorn!" The sound was barely audible, but it was there. There were definitely two separate foghorns sounding somewhere nearby.
"Bingo," said Switek. "Now we've got something we can work with to figure out where to start looking."
On the screen they saw the mist rolling in and the rain start to fall. The ropes were cut and Crockett fell to the ground.
"Stay alive, buddy." thought Tubbs. "Just stay alive a little while longer and we'll get you outta there."