Mission Impossible?

Chapter 11

Amber smiled pleasantly at the neat but slightly overweight woman behind the desk noticing her name tag read Monica. The front desk clerk quickly typed on the keyboard to retrieve the information from her workstation.

“I see Mr. Rienholt is poolside with the Birds. Are you familiar with the hotel?” The front desk clerk asked.

“No, this my first visit.”

“Diego will escort you. Diego, please escort the lady to cabana 15. Have a pleasant day Miss.”

“Thank you, Monica.”

Amber followed the middle aged Latino in the crisp white uniform from the front desk through the Delano’s lobby to the rear of the hotel. The heels of her white peep toe pumps clicked on the hardwood floor as she walked down a corridor of alcoves created by a series of white sheers towards a row of glass doors leading poolside. Her escort opened one of the doors for Amber then preceded her down a flight of stairs and along the side of a luxurious Olympic sized pool. Numbered cabanas stood behind a long row of deck chairs on the side they walked, while opposite them sat bungalows with large diaphanous curtains over louvered doors.

Cabana 15 was located at the pool’s far end, where she saw Rienholt engaged a couple in conversation. The cabana was opulent. It was lined with white louver panels and gossamer drapes, while one wall held a flat panel TV. A glass vase with fresh cut lilies stood on an end table while on an overstuffed white couch decorated with several accent pillows sat the trio. Diego presented the cabana with one hand. Amber thanked him, he turned and left. Noticing her arrival, the portly club owner rose, took Amber’s hands kissing the performer on one cheek.

“I am glad you called Saturday,” Amber said, “I was so surprised to see you at the club Friday night.”

“I am happy you could make it today. I have some friends to introduce you to. This is the young lady I spoke to you about, Amberlynn Kain,” Rienholt said. “Amber, this is Rita and Jonathan Bird.”

The man rose from the couch shook her hand lightly while Amber stepped forward and leaned over the coffee table to shake the woman’s offered fingers. Introductions completed, Amber fell back to the protection of Rienholt’s side her hands clasping her new white clutch in front of her.

“Amber,” Mrs. Bird commented, “that is a lovely dress. Turn about and let us see you.”

Rienholt stepped to the side to let Amber shyly pirouette, causing the turquoise dress knee length skirt to slightly flare. Facing the woman, she held out the skirt with one hand. The woman scrutinized her with a practiced eye then motioned to the girl to repeat the turn. The young t-girl complied with the request, however, she completed the spin much more slowly, aware of the close inspection. Amber felt her stomach tightened. Her heart raced in her chest as fast as the questions raced in her mind. What did she see? Did she know? Did Rienholt tell them?

“I love how the halter’s straps braid in the back. Is that a convertible dress?”

“Yes,” I purchased it from Venus on-line.”

“It’s lovely,” Mrs. Bird commented.

“You should see her in costume,” Rienholt said.

“William told us you are a performer at a local night club,” Mr. Bird said, “and are a real firecracker.”

Amber glanced over at her short, overweight friend who simply grinned at her. She blushed at the comment then accepted the chair Rienholt held and and sat opposite Mrs. Bird. Both men returned to their seats, Rienholt next to her, while Mr. Bird on the couch next to his wife. Mr. Bird was a tall, stocky, bald man in his mid fifties Amber guessed, dressed in a bright floral shirt with white slacks and loafers. Mrs. Bird was slim, tanned with dark short hair, tastefully dressed in a white, sleeveless maxi dress belted at the waist and wore sandals. Amber judged her to be in her late forties.

“Amber, do you like working in Miami?” Mrs. Bird asked

“Oh yes. I love working at The Peacock. The audiences are always fun. Most of the other girls are nice and the stage hands are really helpful.”

“You sound very happy,” Mrs. Bird commented.

“I am sure she is very good,” Mr. Bird said, “She has a dancer’s body, fit and lean.”

“Jonathan, don’t embarrass the girl.”

Mr. Bird winked at Amber, chuckled then took a sip of his orange juice. Mrs. Bird simply sighed at her husband. Rienholt reached over to take his friend’s hand in his and nodded his head with reassurance at her.

“Do you have a show tonight?” Mr. Bird asked.

“No, The Peacock is closed on Sundays and I am off tomorrow.”

“Well, that means we can kidnap you for the day,” Mr. Bird announced as he removed the fruit basket from the table.

“Jonathan, please hand me an orange,” requested Mrs. Bird. “Do you read much, Amber? I love American literature. Have you read Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House” series?

Amber shook her head no.

What about Mark Twain?”

Before Amber could answer, Mrs. Bird flipped the orange quickly towards her lap. The petite t-girl barely had time to react. With one hand she caught the orange mid flight.

“Whoa, nice catch girl!” Mr. Bird remarked.

“I’ve read many of Twain’s stories, including The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. I’ve also read Tom Sawyer ,” Amber answered.

“Ah…What about James Clavell’s King Rat?”

“I thought he was British? No, I am afraid not.”

“You should, I think you would find parts of it fascinating. Jonathan doesn’t like to read,” smiled Mrs. Bird.

“Not true, I read ESPN,” Mr. Bird declared defensively.

“That is a magazine.”

“I still read it.”

“Of course, you do,” his wife agreed.

She patted his knee then slipped her hand down and caressed his inner thigh. Amber watched as an intimate moment passed between the two. Mr. Bird leaned over the table and kissed his wife.

“Ok kids, we have still have time to kill before lunch. Amber do you play cards?” Mr. Bird asked clapping his hands. He reached into the cabinet under the coffee table and brought out a deck of cards followed by a pen and paper.

“Uh…yes,” she answered puzzled, “I’ve played Poker, Spades, Hearts, and Euchre.”

“What about Whist?”

“Whist? Mmm...no.”

“Whist will not be a problem, if you know those other games. You will pick it up in a few hands,” Rienholt assured.

“William’s right. Whist is easy. Rita taught it to me when we were first married,” Mr. Bird explained.

The two men were correct. After she was taught the basics, Amber picked up the card game quickly. With Rienholt as her willing partner, they trumped and finessed their way through several successful series of hands. After the last rubber, the foursome noticed it was past noon. Rienholt called the hotel’s staff for a light lunch.

The foursome was able to play another rubber of whist before the waiter brought their lunch to them. The men ordered hearty sandwiches; Rienholt ate a croissant stuffed with ham and cheese while Mr. Bird wolfed down a Monte Cristo. Both ladies settled for half salads; Mrs. Bird the small Caesar salad and Amber had a part of a Delano Cobb salad containing crab, mango, avocado, sprinkled with blue cheese and bacon. The meal was excellent.

After lunch, Mrs. Bird suggested they stroll along the beach to work off the large meal. All agreed to the plan, however, Mrs. Bird asked Amber to accompany her to the restroom before their walk. Amber politely nodded then followed the older woman to the lavatory inside the hotel.

After Amber checked her makeup in the mirror, she reapplied her lipstick along with a fresh coat of mascara. Mrs. Bird exited the stall, washed her hands while watching the girl in the mirror.

“William is very fond of you. He speaks of you well.”

“Rienholt is very sweet,” Amber said.

“You seem to like him very much. I’m sure he appreciates having a friend during this time.”

“Time? I’m not sure what you mean.”

“During his treatment…for… prostate cancer,” the woman said, “that is why he came to Miami. There is a leading cancer treatment center here.”

“Oh, yes. I see what you mean.”

“He told us how you met. How you rescued him from two muggers.”

“I did no more than what anyone would do,” Amber admitted.

“That is not what he says. William said you stepped in knocked one unconscious and felled the other with judo or something,” the woman stated leaning against the marble vanity, “He said you were in the Army.”

Amber replaced the mascara in her clutch and turned from the mirror to look at the older woman. Mrs. Bird smoothed the front of her skirt then crossed her arms over her chest.

“Later, when he and I were alone, William told me The Peacock is a gay bar. That you are in a drag review,” Mrs. Bird stated.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“You don’t look like a drag queen.”

“I’m not. I’m not gay,” Amber continued, “Most drag queens are gay men who perform their act dressed as women but are men. I’m transgendered.”

“Transgendered?”

“Yes, I consider myself to be a woman.”

“But you’re still a man?” Mrs. Bird probed.

“I’m taking estrogen hormones. My breasts are developing but I still have my male genitals. One day I will have reassignment surgery.”

“It’s a little confusing,” the woman admitted.

“Yeah, most people are confused by it. I know I was,” Amber laughed nervously.

Mrs. Bird smiled, “Well, we better get back or Jonathan will be chasing the girls in their thongs and bikinis.”

The two women joined the men waiting at the edge of the beach. Mr. and Mrs. Bird led them from the hotel toward the surf. Amber had stepped out of her pumps and carried them in one hand walking closely beside Rienholt. The taller married couple walked a bit faster than their diminutive companions and was soon several yards away.

“Were you going to tell me?” Amber asked.

“Tell you what, dear?”

“That you are sick. That you have cancer.”

“Oh, that. No. I wasn’t.”

“When did you find out?” she questioned.

“About a month ago. I went for some other tests and they discovered I have a large cancerous growth on my prostate,” he explained.

“Are you going to have surgery?”

“The doctors don’t advise it. They say it is to far advanced. I am going to start chemotherapy tomorrow.”

“Would you like me to be with you?”

“No. I don’t need anyone. I have a car coming from the hospital to pick me up.”

She stopped and looked at him. “I didn’t ask if you needed someone,” she said, “I asked if you wanted me to be there with you.”

“That would be nice.”

Amber slipped her free hand into one of his and they began to walk toward the other couple now far down the beach.

Amber left Rienholt and the Birds late in the afternoon after thanking them for a wonderful Sunday. She told Rienholt to expect her Monday morning at 8 a.m., gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek before getting into the taxi and leaving for her apartment.

On the way there her cell phone chimed with a call from Major Brewer. She stated Corazon had called and left a message on their machine that he would pick Amber up for dinner at 9 p.m. The major confirmed with her protégé to be back at the apartment in time to get ready then go over some items with herself and Captain Logan.

++++++++++++++++++++

The Tropic was an arch type of an upscale Miami restaurant. Low ambient light reflected off soft pastel walls, white linen covered dark tables and smooth Latin music played in the background. From Amber’s booth against a window the ocean could be seen clearly since only a few clouds shared the sky with the moon. The waves rolled slowly against the shore.

Amber sat in the middle of the booth between the two Colombians. They had been seated and were having drinks when Angel began to tell her what a beautiful modern city Bogotá¡’ was. He explained Bogotá¡ was divided into basically four districts. The North, where he now lived in an expensive apartment building, was newer with malls, restaurants, and nightclubs. El Centro or the old city center was where the banks, corporations, along with the government buildings were located.

Angel’s face brightened when he told her about attending many exciting futbol matches at the Bogotá¡ Futbol Club’s stadium in El Occidente area. Although he realized they were currently in 10th place or the middle of their league, he believed the Lions would win more. He barely mentioned the poorer South district where he grew up. Angel finished his second beer and ordered another Dos XX.

“Manuel comes from a tiny village east of Bogotá¡. It is so small it doesn’t have a name. It is barely a crossroad,” Angel said between sips of his new beer. “He had to leave to find a girl that wasn’t his cousin or a nun…and a virgin.”

“Angel!” Amber said. “Don’t say that.”

Angel laughed at the big Latino who turned his head toward the drug lord, his eyes darting toward Amber. The body guard grunted, shrugged his shoulders and returned to scanning the restaurant. Angel snickered again and took a large swallow of his new beer. The short Colombian stood up unsteadily to stager toward the restrooms located on the opposite side of the restaurant. Manuel began to follow his employer but was waved back to his seat.

“Was he drinking before I got to the restaurant?” Amber asked.

“Si’ chica. He had several before he met you this evening.”

“He didn’t mean what he said,” Amber said.

“My village is small. He has talked about it before.”

She reached across the table placing a hand on his large forearm. In her presence, Amber had noted Angel constantly treated the bodyguard with condescension and even contempt. The big man glanced at the t-girl, shifted uneasily and pulled his arm away.

“Manuel, do I make you uncomfortable?” Amber asked in Spanish.

“I am here to watch Senor Corazon not to make judgments on what he does.”

“You don’t approve of Angel and me dating.”

“It is not my concern what you do,” he said emphasizing the word “you”.

“Manuel, is it that we are dating or the fact I dress like a woman?”

“You are a man, no? You should act like one.”

“I am not a man. I would feel uncomfortable dressed as a man. I would hate myself.”

“Men are men. Women are women.”

The pair sat in silence a few moments waiting for Angel to return. When the drug lord returned he sat close to Amber. He had commented earlier how sexy she looked in the sheer black lace mini dress often stroking her bare back. Now, he rested his hand on her knee and traveled up her bare thigh caressing her leg. She crossed her legs hoping to prevent him from going further.

Angel frowned at her with annoyance. He considered her his “la novia” or girlfriend now, why would she prevent him from touching her. Amber noticed the frown along the white residue on his upper lip. She smiled at him then reached out to caress his face, letting her fingers move to his lips. The Cartel deputy kissed her finger tips while Amber subtly wiped off the traces of cocaine. Manuel had also observed the powder on his charge but shook his head then shrugged his shoulders at her.

Amber looked down into her frozen Margarita then at the quiet big man next to her. She realized he was scrutinizing the other clients in the restaurant moving table to table. She glanced across the room also over the salted rim of her glass. Amber’s eyes moved from patron to patron halting on three dark men recently seated in a booth to Manuel’s far right. They, too, sat quietly and studied the restaurant frequently stopping on their table.

“Excuse me,” Amber said.

Angel squeezed the girl-boy’s ass as she slid from the booth. She pushed his hands away but winked at him. Amber moved between the tables, taking the most direct route toward the rest rooms. Once there, she checked behind her then bypassed the ladies room and stepped unseen into a nearby small alcove, where she flipped open her phone.

“Yes, Amber?” Major Brewer asked.

“Are there any other teams assigned to Corazon tonight?”

“None that I am are aware of. Just a moment.”

Amber heard her question Logan about the DEA and CIA stakeout teams. She knew Brewer and Logan were parked behind the restaurant in the rented SUV providing an over watch and her backup tonight. Based upon her young asset’s last encounter, Janice decided Amber’s “dates” would be chaperoned from now on.

“Logan confirms we are a solo team tonight,” her control answered.

“There are three South Americans at the restaurant. They seem to be eyeing us,” Amber said.

“Stay sharp. The ‘intel’ we gave you this afternoon said there has been movement by a rival faction in the Cartel. There may be trouble.”

“I will Major.”

“Amber…Be careful.”

“I will Janice.”

She snapped the phone shut replacing it in her black clutch next to her SIG. She began to leave the alcove but discovered one of trio from the other table standing next to the ladies room. She slid back into the niche, leaned against the wall and bit her lip. She opened her clutch then walked toward the man guarding the ladies room pretending to search with one hand in her small purse.

“No matter how small your purse is you can never find anything,” she said looking at the slim, dark man.

Surprised, the man glanced at Amber then to the door of the ladies room. He returned his gaze to the girl-boy who delivered a hard right cross to his chin, followed by a knee to his groin. The stunned South American fell to his knees clutching his smashed balls. Amber slammed her elbow into his temple toppling the man to the carpet unconscious.

She opened her hand and dumped the roll of dimes Logan gave her back into her clutch. The CID agent explained to her earlier how a weighted punch would give her an advantage in a fight. Unlike a pair of brass knuckles, he chuckled; a roll of dimes would go unnoticed in a woman’s purse.

After checking to see her actions went unnoticed, she dragged the lightly built man into the nearby alcove despite the 4 inch high heels she wore. Depositing the assassin there, she pulled a nickel plated Colt .45 from the holster under his linen jacket, unloaded it then placed the weapon in a nearby potted plant. Next, she hid the loaded magazine behind a fire extinguisher.

Out of breath, she straightened her dress and checked her makeup along with her hair in a nearby mirror. Amber forced herself to take a deep breath then started back to the table. As she walked back to her table, she smiled brightly at several men along the way trailing her fingers across their shoulders, observing the reaction of the two South Americans at the table to her right.

Reaching their booth, she pushed Angel between her and Manuel ignoring the Cartel deputy’s protests. She sat her open clutch on her lap and slid her fingers around her weapon. She “whispered” loud enough to Angel for Manuel to hear.

“Baby, do you mind if we leave? There is a table of men who keep staring at us.”

“That is because you are beautiful,” Angel slurred.

“I don’t like the way they look at us,” Amber loudly pouted.

“What men?” Manuel asked.

“Those two men,” she nodded towards the remaining pair of South Americans.

The big Latino with the moustache turned to see the two men rising from their seats with pistols in their hands. With surprising agility and speed, Manuel flipped over the large, heavy table on its side dragging Angel behind it while pulling out his own 9mm pistol. Amber managed to duck behind the makeshift barricade as bullets began tearing into the table’s heavy top.

Chaos erupted in the restaurant as the pair of South Americans opened fire. Women and men screamed fleeing from the gunplay to The Tropic’s exits. Amber lost track of the number of rounds fired at them in the few seconds. Manuel lifted his handgun over the table shooting blind. Amber popped up and shot two rounds then dropped back behind their impromptu screen.

Continuing to fire, the two South Americans split in opposite directions. Manuel took several shots at the man running to the right; his bullets trailed the assassin along the pastel wall. Amber fired once more at her target moving left and deeper into the restaurant.

“Angel, get out to the car!” Manuel shouted replacing his empty magazine.

Angel didn’t respond but leaped up and ran for the exit. Manuel began to fire rapidly at the gunman to their right. Amber shot twice more at her man hiding in the back of the restaurant. The bodyguard saw the little drug lord scamper out the exit and continued to fire.

“Where’s that fucking whore!”

The shout caused Amber to look over the table to see the man she knocked unconscious searching the restaurant with a 9mm in his hand. Spotting her he shot several times. Bullets struck the table top and whizzed by her head. Like a metronome he shot the pistol as he marched toward her. Manuel wheeled and rapidly fired at the man. The man focused his fire on Manuel. Three or four bullets hit the heavy table beside him. Amber leaped up from behind the makeshift barricade and fired. The man spun once before falling to the floor.

“Chica, I’m out! Let’s go!” shouted Manuel.

Amber jumped up and followed the big Colombian to the door. There she paused to shoot once more at each of the remaining gunmen. She ran from the restaurant entrance to meet Manuel in the parking lot where he searched in vain for the blue Lotus. Angel had fled with their only way of escape.

A white SUV with tinted windows was pulling up to the restaurant doors. Amber leapt in front of the Cadillac and pointed her empty SIG at the driver.

“Out of the car, NOW!”

The driver, dressed in a tight red polo shirt tucked in his dark slacks, opened the door and dove out of the vehicle. Amber yelled at Manuel to get into the car as she climbed into the driver seat. The bodyguard followed her into the SUV, shutting the door while she pulled away.

“Gracias, chica,” Manuel panted, “I don’t know if I would have made it out if not for your help.”

“De nada,” Amber said, “I couldn’t leave a friend.”

Expertly, she drove the large vehicle down alleys, on side streets, and through parking lots until she turned on a major avenue. Amber continued to maneuver the Cadillac quickly in the heavy traffic with ease when she spotted the on ramp to the highway. She glided across several lanes packed with cars to the on ramp of I-95.