Who'll Stop The Rain: (Book One Of The Miami Crime Trilogy) by Don Donovan Page A

with approval that Chicho
had received justice.
    "It
wasn't pretty," Logan said.
    "It
never is, man."
    The
waiter brought them each a beer, frosty longnecks. Logan took a soft pull at
his and set it down. His hand went inside his shirt and came out with a long,
thick envelope.
    "A
little something for you," he said, and pushed it across the old wooden
table.
    Mambo
continued smiling and peeked inside the envelope. "Looks like a pretty
decent score." All according to ancient Key West custom. You plan your job
in Mambo's, you cut him in for a taste. He stuffed the envelope into his pants
pocket.
    "It
was," he said. "But I have bad news. Well, I mean, good news for me,
bad for you."
    Mambo's
smile vanished. "What, man? What is it?"
    "It's
over. For me, anyway."
    "Over?
What are you talking about?"
    "I
mean it's over. I'm done. Thirteen years in the life. Finito."
    "Man,
you mean you're just … getting out? Just like that." Mambo couldn't hide
his surprise.
    Logan
gave a single nod, never taking his eyes off Mambo's. "Just like
that."
    "How
come?"
    "This
one, it took it all out of me. We really stepped out of our league with that
bank, and I had a lot of difficulty up in Miami the other night. I don't want
to do it again. I don't even want to think about doing it again."
    "Out
of your league? How was it out of your league?"
    Logan
took another swig of his beer. "I mean, it was for more money than we'd
ever gotten. We'd never robbed a bank before. And that's a federal beef. Not
only that, it was a lot more dangerous, and a lot rougher." He didn't want
to go into the whole deal with the girl. He couldn't handle talking about it
again.
    Mambo
reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a Cohiba. He took his time
unwrapping it and sniffed its entire length twice. He snipped the tip with his
gold guillotine cutter and lovingly examined the cigar one more time. Finally,
he retrieved his lighter and expertly twirled the cigar under the flame with care,
drawing deep, repeated puffs until the lighted tip was self-sustaining.
    The
sweet smoke of the Cohiba did its job. His posture loosened and he said,
without smiling, "You remember back when we were in high school? I think
it was during our junior year. When they found those three dead guys from Miami
in the mangroves up on Stock Island?"
    Logan
thought back to that time. The memory was not pleasant. Mutilated corpses,
sickeningly arranged.
    "I
do remember that. Weren't they … weren't they the guys who … who gang-raped one
of your cousins?"
    He
nodded. "Little Danielita," he said, puffing again on his cigar.
"Fourteen years old. She was the pride of my grandfather's eye. He loved
her so much. And what those savages did to her still sends chills over my whole
body."
    His
reference to his grandfather in connection with this old incident pinned
Logan's eyes to his own. Mambo saw Logan's face go pale at the mention of this
event. It had worked its way into Key West legend, in the criminal community
anyway, where it was always known to reside out on the misty fringes of local
outlaw history, but never directly spoken about.
    Mambo
guardedly looked around, making sure no one was within earshot, and dialed his
voice downward. "He did it. He delivered more pain to those motherless
fucking cocksuckers than they ever thought possible before he sent them to the
fires of hell, where they burn today and where they will burn for all fucking
eternity."
    Mambo
drank from his longneck and leaned forward, showing Logan he wasn't through.
    "Everybody
knew my grandfather did it, even though there was no evidence. They never
pressed charges. They never even looked into it, because they all knew it had
to be done. After what those animals did to little Danielita."
    Logan
said, "Yeah, well, you're right, man . Us Conchs, we take care of our own in cases like that. Nobody thinks twice
about it."
    Mambo
shifted in his seat to lean even farther across the table and said, "He
didn't like doing it, you know?