Chapter 3: Pretty Girls and Tape Recorders

Crockett and Tubbs sat somewhat impatiently in his Daytona. It was a dark, yet colorful night in the streets of Miami. But they weren't here for any fun in the clubs. Well, not yet at least. They'd been ordered to find the remaining set of tape recorders that would help put Ortez, along with Waters behind bars when presented in court. They just had to get to the tapes fast before Waters found out the police were in possession of one of them and destroyed the rest.

"Hey man…you really think this guy would fool himself into recording himself?" Crockett briefly looked at him and sarcastically chuckled. "Rico…. you bet. At this point, this guy couldn't tell the difference between chalk on the board and his coke!" They both laughed to lighten the mood up. They were still waiting for a car to show up that, supposedly may have a man carrying the recorder on him. Though it seemed unlikely, it was worth a shot anyway. As per Crockett's sayings, didn't seem Waters was the brightest bulb around town. Crockett was getting impatient. "Why the hell do these druggies always use the Mercs?...speed things up for us if they chose a better car, y'know…" Rico chuckled. Before he could remark back, their target arrived.

Rico nudged Sonny. "Sonny…" Crockett swiftly turned around to see a black SUV heading down the road their way, and got ready to follow them. The SUV made past a few cars down the street and eventually past them. "Action baby…" He pulled into gear into began to trail them, fast enough to stay with them, but slow enough for them to not notice or be alerted. The SUV made some seemingly questionable turns down different roads, worrying Crockett that they may have picked up on their trailing, but then it soon pulled into a nightclub just on 5th avenue. Crockett smiled. Nothing like a good bar brawl, eh?

The SUV parked itself outside the nightclub and dropped 3 men off, all in black striped suits and tied back hair, slicked mind you. "Well well well Rico…looks like one of these presents has a toy for us and the others some coal…" Rico agreed. "Yeah…this aint gun be easy partner…" Crockett pulled into a parking spot and as he got out, said," Nothing ever came easy." Rico smiled. "Alright, I'll take on one of them and you the other. We'll leave the last for us. Yeah?" "Yea. Let's go."

Both men made their way to a vibrant display of colors of the nightclub, lighting up the heat of Miami and the open roads. Sonny made his way into the front, passing off for one of the managers of the club and gravitated towards the bar. "One uh, Martini. No, that's all, thank you." He stood there waiting in his white pastel suit and white linen pants. Definitely looked nice, but the heat sure killed him second after second in the suit. A lady casually approached him as he surveyed the club for one of the men. As he spotted one of them, she spoke.

"Hi."

Crockett quickly turned around and smiled. "Hello…Mrs?..." "Julia. Julia Ferry." Crockett raised his eyebrows in apparent interest, then spoke back. "Sonny Crockett", he said as he shook her hand. Time was slipping and he needed the recorder. "So uh, need something?" he asked slightly impatiently. She ran her fingers down his chest. "No…not at the moment…Sonny…" She had a dreamy look in her eyes, one that spoke of something Crockett wasn't in the mood for at the moment. "Yeah well uh, if you don't mind…I need to use the bathroom…" He gave a quick smile and moved out of her way. She was left staring in disgust for a few minutes, then pulled out a cellphone from her purse.

"He's coming. Be ready." Then she walked off. Crockett made his way casually towards one of the men he had spotted earlier, eyeing Rico in the corner of his eye. He had already made contact with one of the men, he was just behind on his contact. "Evenin' boys…I don't suppose you're up for a nice, friendly chat?..." he said with a sarcastic tone. The man turned around.

"Who the hell are you?" A thick Russian accent was heard.

"Well you see…I've heard things…great things about your, let's say, business? And it has caught my attention. Allow me, I'm Sonny Burnett." The man stared him back for a few seconds, then turned around and spoke into his earpiece something Crockett couldn't make out. He turned back. "Why don't we sit and have a drink…Mr. Burnett?" Crockett nodded approvingly.

They both sat down to discuss "matters". "So…how much are you looking for?" Crockett seemed to ponder for a bit. "Mm…. how about…. three keys. You got three keys?" The man seemed to be receiving a message through his earpiece for a second, then he turned around. And flipped the table over, startling everyone over the loud music. "Hey mister…woah…" The man got up and reached for a gun from his holster, and Crockett jumped towards him, knocking him and the man over back. Rico picked up on the action and pulled out his revolver.

"Freeze! Miami Vice!" A fight ensued in both parts of the club. On one end, Crockett was exchanging fists with a large Russian man, and on another Rico was exchanging fists with a skinny Italian dealer. Things got chaotic, as chairs were being flipped over and Crockett threw a bottle of champagne at the Russia man but missed as he ducked, hitting the Italian man instead. Rico startled for a second, then grinned. Job done there. He moved in to help Crockett. Until the 3rd man appeared from their back. Crockett was thrown over the counter and knocked over several shots and glasses along the way. People were screaming and running to avoid injuries.

Rico grabbed the Russian from the back of his collar, choking him until a large hand grabbed his neck, pulled him around and threw him over a small table. He towered over him and pulled out a pistol. "Not today my friend…" It was the same man who killed Cruz! Crockett swiftly pushed the Russian into the man aiming for Rico, knocking him over and giving Rico enough time to roll over before the two fell on him. He picked up both the guns and etched them into his belt and pulled out his handcuffs.

The Russian kicked Crockett backwards onto the counter, but not over it. This gave him enough time to get up and go for Rico. Rico fought back, giving Cruz's killer enough time to make a break for the entrance and leave. The Russian turned his face one more time to see Rico just before he was knocked out for a very, long time.

Crockett kneeled down next to him, breathing heavily, then looked at Rico. Both had the same thoughts of Damn this did not go well. He dug around in his pockets for the recorder, but found nothing. Leaving the mess they had left behind, they carried him tiredly over to Crockett's car and threw him in. A Hard Days Night right there.

At the OCB, the Russian was taken in for questioning. Castillo stood outside the room, looking at the man inside and listening through a tape recorder. The man was Vladimir Kislyak, a 42 year old drug dealer who had been with the Russian Mafia and had come to Miami to score some profit in the last few years. Well, that wasn't happening anymore. Crockett barged in and shut the door behind him. He took one look at Vladimir and walked up to him.

"Who do you work for?" He waited for a response. He didn't get one. He asked again more aggressively," WHO do you work for?...VLAD?" He stared him down angrily and knelt down to level his height with his in the chair. Vladimir began reaching for a little paper in his pocket. Crockett immediately drew his gun at him. "Stop right there Vlad boy…this one isn't going to save you…" He slowly took the paper out and uncrumpled it. He grabbed a pen from the table and began scribbling something on it. Crockett slowly holstered his gun again. Vladimir turned the paper towards him.

Caroline

Crockett

And drew a small skull underneath the text. Crockett's eyes widened in shock, and swiftly turned around. Something had happened to Caroline. Something bad.