M.I.A. Hunter: Miami War Zone Read Online Free PDF Page B

would never tell them anything, and they could continue to torture him and beat him.
    Unless . . .
    W offord jerked awake.
    He was no longer in the jungle, could no longer feel the pain.
    At least, not as much pain. He hurt in a few places, but his body was not one gigantic ache as it had been in the dream.
    There were no flies, no lice, no stench of shit and vomit.
    He was in a dark, cool room, lying on a bed.
    He tried to move his arms. They were immobile, tied to the bedposts. So were his legs. He was spread-eagled, just like Creel had been in the dream.
    Wofford could see a rectangle of faint light. A window?
    There was furniture in the room, and he could make out the dark outlines. The events of the previous night began to clarify in his mind.
    Then he heard voices, from somewhere outside the room.
    He strained to make out the words.
    ". . . Don Vito's idea."
    "Yeah, but Charlie don't like it."
    ". . . Charlie . . ."
    The voices began to fade.
    "Charlie."
    Charley.
    The VC.
    The Cong.
    The major's face appeared above Jack, his mouth twisted in a cruel smile. "Ah, you are awake, Yankee turd. Then you are able to enjoy this."
    The leather slashed across Jack's already swollen and bleeding mouth. A boot crashed into his side. . . .
     
    "N o sign of Wofford ?" Stone said. "Then why all the big buildup on the Cubans and the Mafia?"
    "That's the hot news," Carol said. "That's what the D.E.A. is afraid will blow sky-high if anything stirs the pot down here. They're trying to get a handle on it, but they have nothing so far, nothing more than I've told you."
    "And how does it tie in to Jack?"
    "It doesn't, as far as I can tell. All I can find out is that he must have been working on some routine job, something small. He was a buyer, not an undercover investigator on the scale that this mess calls for."
    There was a note of uncertainty in her voice. Stone seized on it. "But?"
    "You can always read me." Carol grinned. "Yes, there is a 'but.'"
    "A connection?"
    "It's tenuous. I don't know if it's solid enough to put any faith in. But it's all I can come up with."
    "A kick in the butt is better than no kicks at all," Hog said. "At least that's what we used to say in East Texas. So what's the connection?"
    Carol hit some more buttons and the print on the screen scrolled up. More names appeared.
    "These two men are just middle-level street dealers," Carol explained. " Tomás Castillo and Jos é Rodriguez. Lately they seem to have more money than you'd think they should have brought in from dope. And there was a report just this morning that they were swaggering around last night, bragging about how they were really in solid with Don Lucci ."
    "Street-level guys with big bucks, throwing around the name of the don," Stone gritted. "And that's the connection?"
    "That's it." Carol ran a hand through her blonde hair. "I told you it was tenuous. But think about it. What kind of people would Jack Wofford be dealing with?"
    "About the level of Castillo and Rodriguez," Stone admitted.
    "Right. And suppose, just suppose, these two were setting him up. Suppose that the don was financing them. That would explain the money they've been showing."
    "And if they had done the dirty deed," Loughlin put in, "that would explain why they thought they were in so solid with the big man himself."
    "It makes sense if you look at it that way," Stone admitted grudgingly, "but you could explain the same events in ten other ways."
    "Sure you could." Carol's eyes were hard. "But this is the only thing we have. The only possible link."
    Hog snorted. "And I was thinking we had to find him quick . If that's our best lead, he's as good as cooked."
    Stone wheeled on the big East Texan. "Don't talk like that."
    Hog looked abashed, and he might even have been blushing beneath the thick beard. "Sorry, Sarge . You're right. If that's the best lead we've got, then by damn we'll follow it and hope for the fucking best."
    "Right," Stone said, more calmly. He turned back to