Work Text:
A GOLDEN TRIANGLE SEQUEL
Martin Castillo watched as his ex-wife stopped at the bottom of the airplane stairs and handed her son to her husband. The dark-haired, dark-eyed Miami Vice Lieutenant felt as though his heart were being ripped away. She turned to look back at him with an unmistakable look of love and longing crossing her face. He kept his own face as impassive as possible while his mind was screaming, ‘No! Don’t leave me again!’
His eyes followed her as she turned, entered the plane, and disappeared. His shoulders sagged and he let out the breath he’d been holding. She was gone.
He turned and went back to Rico Tubb’s Caddy as the plane began to taxi down the runway. Sonny and Rico had waited in the car until he was certain they’d leave safely. He got in the front seat and shut the door. He felt completely drained. As the plane pulled away, they watched it leave.
Martin was glad he had been able to save the little family from the clutches of General Lao Li, a drug lord from the Golden Triangle. Lao Li had had one of his subsidiaries recruit May Ying’s husband Ma Sek to work for him although neither of them had any knowledge of their role in the plot to expand his drug empire into Miami. Lao Li’s plan had included using them as unwitting hostages to keep Castillo on a short leash for fear of harming them.
His senior Vice Detectives, Sonny Crockett and Rico Tubbs, let him get himself under control. He appreciated it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do next, but he knew he didn’t want to go back to the office or home.
“Hey, Lieutenant, we know this old bar in the Keys.” Sonny Crockett said.
“In the months we’ve worked together have you ever known me say I need a drink?” Castillo asked in an almost scolding tone of voice.
“No,” the green-eyed, blond-haired Crockett replied tensely, figuring he had really overstepped the bounds this time.
“Good. Take me to a bar.”
Sonny and Rico relaxed visibly as Tubbs steered the Cadillac away from the airport runway. The plane carrying May Ying and her family took off into the night sky.
Martin watched in silence until the plane was out of sight. Sonny and Rico said nothing, allowing him the privacy of his own thoughts. They were still absorbing the fact that Martin had been married. Somehow it seemed an unlikely circumstance.
It took almost an hour to reach Stanley’s Wharf, the bar that never closed. No one spoke. Sonny leaned back in the seat and nearly fell asleep as the wind rushed by blowing his hair. Rico turned on the radio to a soothing easy-listening station and hummed along with the tunes, his hands keeping a quiet rhythm on the steering wheel.
Castillo stared into the darkness, letting the sound of tires on the pavement lull his mind into numbness. He didn’t want to think—not yet. There would be a lifetime ahead to do that.
Arriving at the bar the three men went inside. The bartender and a couple of the patrons greeted Sonny enthusiastically. Even Rico was welcomed by name. The three made their way to the bar and sat down, Sonny and Rico flanking Martin.
The bartender came over and asked, “The usual?” Sonny and Rico nodded. “What’ll you have?” he asked Castillo.
Castillo reached into the pocket of his jacket, pulled out a leather billfold, took a crisp one hundred dollar bill from it, and laid it on the bar. “Tequila. And keep it coming.” He glanced at Rico and Sonny who were staring at him open-mouthed. “Them, too.”
The bartender nodded and quickly set out a whiskey for Sonny, an imported beer for Rico and the Tequila for Castillo.
Martin picked his up, held it for a few seconds then drained the glass in one long swallow. He set the glass down and the barman immediately replaced it with another. “Thank you,” he said and drank the second one, too.
Sonny and Rico looked at each other with twin expressions of disbelief and began on their own first drinks as Martin began on his third. He took off his tie, stuffed it in his pocket and unbuttoned the first two buttons on his shirt.
“Have you eaten anything today, Martin?” Sonny asked. “I haven’t.”
Castillo considered the question for a moment. “No.”
“Hey, Jake, some pretzels over here, okay?”
Jake brought them a large bowl of pretzels and plunked it down in front of them. All three ate the pretzels hungrily. Sonny called for more and another whiskey as Martin finished his third and started on his fourth.
“You wanna talk about anything?” Sonny asked.
“No,” Castillo said bluntly.
Sonny shrugged and made a face at Rico that said: ‘I tried.’ He drained his whiskey and another one appeared.
Rico had already decided he would be driving them home and so was still nursing his first beer of the evening. From the way things were progressing so far this could turn out to be one unusual evening, and he was going to be sober even if Sonny and Martin weren’t. He swiveled around on the bar stool to rest his arms on the counter and his back on the edge of the bar.
After a couple more attempts by Sonny to get Martin to say something, Sonny gave up. Anything he said was met by a blank stare. Rico knew better than to even try, so he and Sonny carried on a conversation around Martin, who paid no attention to them.
Rico had seen Sonny drunk before and knew when he drank — he talked. It didn’t matter about what; he just liked to talk. And with Martin picking up the tab, Sonny was enjoying himself.
Martin had slowed down somewhat after about the fifth or sixth drink but was still drinking. Rico had lost count after four and figured Castillo could probably float home by now. But the amazing thing was he seemed perfectly sober. He had gone to the men’s room once and hadn’t even missed a step. Sonny, on the other hand, had staggered his way there and back.
It wasn’t long after that that disaster struck. A burly dockworker had come in with an equally big friend about an hour after they had arrived. They had obviously just gotten off work from the night shift and were covered in dirt and sweat. The two sat down on the other side of Sonny and ordered beers. Rico ignored them, although the smell emanating from them made him glad they’d seated themselves by Sonny who couldn’t smell anything at this point.
An hour later, Sonny was still talking, Rico listening, and who knew what was going through Martin’s mind when Sonny said, “And the gun that guy was totin’ was this long.” He threw his arms wide to show the size and knocked over the dockworker’s beer, who was well into his second six-pack.
“Hey, you bastard, watch what you’re doin’!” the man bellowed.
“Sorry, man. Hey, lemme buy ya another one,” Sonny said. “Here, I’ll help you clean it up.” He tried to right the toppled bottle and succeeded only in dumping the rest down the man’s dirty shirtfront.
“You stupid son-of-a-bitch!” the man roared and turned on Sonny.
“It was an accident. Nothin’ to get all hot and bothered about,” Sonny said.
“I’m gonna knock your Goddamned head off.” The man ignored Sonny’s attempts at reconciliation. Obviously spoiling for a fight, he reached out, grabbed a handful of Sonny’s jacket and shirt and hauled him off his bar stool.
Sonny took a wild swing at the unshaven face. His right hand bounced off the iron jaw damaging nothing but Sonny’s hand.
Rico sat silently on his perch holding his second bottle of beer and watching the proceedings with interest. Castillo didn’t look up, but remained focused on the glass in front of him..
The man shook Sonny like a rag doll. At that display of hostility Rico decided it was probably time for him to lend his partner a hand—for all the good it would do either of them. He sighed and put down his bottle. When he started to get off his bar stool, Castillo stopped him with a raised hand. Rico looked at him in surprise.
“Put him down,” Castillo said. He had spoken in a normal tone of voice but with such authority it caught the attention of the belligerent man. He peered around Sonny and looked down at Castillo.
“You say somethin’, little man?”
Rico looked at the man and just shook his head.
“Put him down.”
“Anythin’ you say.” The man gave Sonny a one-handed toss into a nearby table. People scattered when the table and Sonny collapsed on the floor with a loud crash. Sonny looked dazed and made no move except to clutch his right hand with his left.
“You wanna take me on?” the man taunted and leaned over to look at Castillo. “You and whose army?” He laughed heartily at his own humor.
Rico took pity on the unsuspecting man and said, “Look, I wouldn’t get in his face if I were you.”
Castillo turned his head slowly and favored Rico with a look that said: ‘I remember saying that to you.’ Rico just shrugged back at him innocently.
Jake had acquired a baseball bat and was advancing on the drunken dockworker. The rest of the patrons were watching to see if the fun was over or if a full-scale fight about to erupt.
Rico held up a restraining hand to Jake and said confidently, “He can handle it.” Jake looked skeptical but backed off. He kept the bat ready, however. Castillo again glanced at Rico whose look said, ‘Hey, I’ve seen you in action.’
Very deliberately Castillo picked up his latest drink and finished it in one swallow. He set the glass down carefully, got off the bar stool and looked up at the big dockworker who stood watching him with an air of boredom.
Rico was reminded of a picture he had seen as a child of David and Goliath and suddenly had doubts about Martin’s ability to put this huge man down. Even David had had a slingshot and a stone.
What happened next went so quickly that – had Rico had blinked – he might have missed the whole thing. The man came at Castillo in a rush, both hands balled into fists and cocked to strike.
If even one fist had connected it could have killed Martin. Instead, Castillo took a step forward to meet the charge and reached out with one hand to grasp the man’s wrist. Using the man’s forward momentum, Castillo half-turned, yanked and twisted his arm and the man went sailing across the room to crash head first into the wall by the entrance.
Two patrons entering the bar had to step hastily aside. For a moment it looked as though the man wouldn’t have the good sense to stay down. But all he did was give Castillo an awed look before passing out.
The man’s friend had been watching the whole thing in semi-interest. He looked at his friend and back at Martin and said, “He had it comin’.” He picked up his beer and continued drinking.
Someone started a ragged round of applause until a glare from Castillo stopped it cold. Castillo turned back to the bar where Jake was just now lowering the bat. Again, he pulled out his billfold and extracted another hundred-dollar bill. “For the damages,” he said and put the bill on the bar. Jake hastily poured another drink and set it in front of Martin. He picked up the drink, drained it and put the glass down. “Thank you,” he said and turned to leave.
Sonny was still sitting amidst the debris of the table still cradling his injured hand. Castillo paused, looked down at him and said, “You’d better get some ice on that.” He walked out without a backward glance.
Rico hastily finished his own drink and started to follow Martin.
“Hey!” Sonny called indignantly and held out his left hand. Rico stopped and gave him a hand up from the floor. “Thanks a lot,” Sonny said sarcastically. Together they made their way out to the car where Martin was waiting for them.
Sonny crawled into the back seat and lay down. He was asleep before they even hit the highway.
Rico was feeling good. He was far from drunk, and the two drinks he’d had only relaxed him. The last few days had been rough on all of them and he still had the bruises from the Thai assassin Martin had taken down to prove it.
“Hey, Martin,” Tubbs said, “think you could teach me some of that stuff you do? I mean that guy went flying without a plane.”
Castillo looked over at him. He had loosened up some compared to the trip down and was actually leaning against the car door, one arm propped on the door frame, the other draped across the back of the seat. “You got about—ten years?”
Rico flashed him a rueful smile and said nothing more. The rest of the trip back was almost a carbon copy of the trip down. When they were almost to Miami Rico said, “Let’s run Sleeping Beauty here home first then I’ll drop you off.”
Martin nodded his agreement.
Arriving at the marina Rico pulled in and parked. “Sonny, hey, Sonny, wake up! You’re home.” He turned to look into the back seat where Sonny was still sleeping. “Wake up!”
“Hey, all right, all right. You don’t have to yell. I’m awake.” He sat up and flexed his right hand. “Damn that hurts. Hope I didn’t break somethin’.” He inspected the swollen knuckles and the bruises already turning purple. He got out and stood by the car. “Hey, guys, why don’t you come on out to the boat? No point in goin’ to bed this late anyway. Might as well stay up and greet the sunrise.” He grinned at them.
Rico looked at Martin. Personally, he agreed with Sonny. Going to bed now wouldn’t help, and he was in the mood to sit out on the boat. He was pretty sure Martin wouldn’t go for it though. “I’ll run you home, Martin.”
Castillo regarded them solemnly for a few moments. He really didn’t want to go home yet. He didn’t feel like being alone.
“To the boat,” he said getting out of the car and closed the door.
Rico looked surprised but got out quickly. Sonny beamed at them both. He’d tried several times to get Martin to come to his boat, but he’d never done it. Martin was concerned that it might blow Sonny’s cover if someone saw a Vice Lieutenant on board. Tonight he didn’t seem to care.
Sonny led the way down the dock to where the ‘St. Vitus’ Dance’ was moored. They climbed aboard. Sonny disappeared down the hatch. A moment later he stood at the bottom of the ladder and yelled up at them. “I’m all out of Tequila. Beer okay?”
“Beer’s fine,” Martin replied.
“Whatever,” Rico said.
“Hey, Rico, feed Elvis, would ya?” A five-pound bad of Kibbles and Bits came sailing up the stairs.
Rico snagged it and said, “Okay.” He looked at Martin. “Have you met Elvis yet?”
“No.”
“Then follow me and I’ll introduce you. Sonny’s got him chained up back here.”
“In the bow?”
“Yeah, back here.” He led the way with Martin following. “You know, I’m just now gettin’ the hang of all these boat words: bow, stern, port, starboard. You sail?”
“Yeah.”
Approaching Elvis on bow they were greeted with a low rumbling roar. “I know, Elvis, I know. Sonny ran off and left you all alone again. And no girl gators in sight to keep you company. Elvis, this is Lieutenant Castillo. You be nice to him now. He’s Sonny’s boss.” A thought struck Rico and he said, “You know, technically, he’s your boss, too.” He turned back to where Castillo had stopped well out of Elvis’ reach. “Say hi to Elvis, Lieutenant, one of your employees.”
“Why?”
“So he’ll get used to your voice. He doesn’t take too well to strangers, and if you’re going to stay on the boat a while it’s better if he knows you belong.”
Castillo stepped closer to Elvis and said seriously, “Hello, Elvis. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The alligator’s little eyes fastened on Martin and he opened his mouth, exposing his rows of teeth. He let out a bellow then snapped his jaws shut less than a foot from Castillo’s leg. Castillo never flinched.
“Behave yourself,” Castillo said and fixed a steely glare on the reptile.
As Rico watched in fascination, Elvis gave a snort that sounded almost apologetic and backed away. “How’d you do that?” He threw Elvis the bag of food. He crunched it up, bag and all. “He only likes me when I feed him.”
“Are you afraid of him?”
“Damn straight.”
“He knows it. Don’t show it.” He turned around and went back to the hatch where Sonny was just coming up juggling the three beers and an ice pack.
Rico looked at Elvis and said, “I’m not afraid of you.” Elvis opened his mouth and Rico beat a hasty retreat.
Martin reached out and took the three beers out of Sonny’s hands. “Thanks, Marty,” Sonny said and came the rest of the way on deck. “Let’s sit right here in the stern.” He sprawled in the nearest deck chair. He put the ice pack on his hand, his feet on the railing and sighed. “Nothin’ like havin’ two good friends to share the night with. Hand me a beer, Marty.”
Martin popped the top on the can of Michelob and passed it over to Sonny. He handed another one to Rico and opened the third for himself. He took a chair beside Sonny’s that Rico had gotten out for them. Rico sat on the other side of him.
He might not say anything, but he appreciated their silent support tonight. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for purely social reasons or watched the sun come up with men he considered friends.
He thought about how lonely his life had been since he’d thought May Ying had died in their house Lao Li had grenaded when they hadn’t found his body in the ambush. Finding she was still alive and losing her again only emphasized how alone he really was.
“So, you finally got to meet Elvis. Isn’t he something?”
“Yes, something,” Martin agreed. “I’m not sure what.”
Rico nearly choked on his beer at that. It was the closest thing to a funny remark he’d ever heard Martin say. And he doubted if Martin had even meant it to be funny. “Elvis likes him,” he said.
“He does? Why, Marty, you should be honored. Elvis is very particular about his friends.”
Martin made a sound that was almost a laugh and shook his head. Rico was now convinced that Castillo was drunker than he let on. While he watched, Castillo and Sonny both finished their beers. He had barely started on his. He decided to play host since Sonny would probably fall and break his neck if he had to navigate the stairs very many times. “I’ll get more beer,” he said. “You guys stay put.”
He went to Sonny’s tiny kitchen—or galley as Sonny called it—took all the beer out of the refrigerator and put it into a cooler with ice. He hauled it up the stairs and plunked it down before them. “Here, drink and be merry. Or just drink, I don’t care.” Martin and Sonny wasted no time in reaching for their next beer. “Sonny, per usual you don’t have anything to eat.”
“Tonight I’m drinkin’ my calories,” Sonny said airily, waving the beer.
They sat in companionable silence watching the stars and enjoying the cool breeze that blew in off the ocean.
“Do you like the ocean, Marty?” Sonny asked suddenly.
Martin considered the question a few moments then answered, “Yes.”
“Do you like Miami?”
Again a pause. “Yes.”
“Do you ever answer questions with anything more than one word?” Sonny asked in exasperation.
Another pause. “No.”
Rico burst out laughing at the look of total frustration on Sonny’s face and the tiny smile on Martin’s that was almost hidden by the thick black moustache.
“Damn it, Marty,” Sonny said with feeling. “How can we ever get to know you better if you don’t tell us anything?”
“Maybe I don’t want you to know me better.” The smile had disappeared leaving Rico to wonder if he had even seen it at all.
“Why not?” Sonny persisted.
“Maybe you know enough.”
“But we don’t know anything,” Sonny said vehemently.
“Exactly.”
Sonny shook his head and leaned forward to look around Martin at Rico. “Rico, my friend, this man is undoubtedly the most stubborn individual I have ever had the misfortune to meet,” he said with a mixture of annoyance and laughter in his voice. “It’s a good thing I like him or I couldn’t stand him.”
Rico looked at Martin carefully to gauge his reaction to Sonny’s talk. Castillo was still their boss, however much he might be willing to tolerate Sonny’s goings on. He didn’t seem to mind so far, and Rico relaxed slightly.
“Martin, answer me this one question with more than one word, okay?” Sonny went on.
“Okay.”
Sonny stopped and shot him a look that said: ‘Very funny.’ He continued, “The question is: Why won’t you talk?”
“To whom? About what?”
“To me, to Rico, to anyone, about anything. Not necessarily personal, just anything.”
“I don’t need to. I find out all I want to know by listening. Most people distrust silence and rush to fill it with sound, usually their own voices. In their haste to say something they tend to say the things uppermost in their minds. Which is generally what they actually least want to discuss. After that they try to cover up by talking even more. To explain why they said what they did. I just listen.”
“Yeah, you’ve done that to me a few times,” Sonny grudgingly admitted.
“And me, too,” Rico agreed.
The three fell silent again. The only sounds were the slap of water against the side of the boat, the creak of wood and the snap of a pop-top as one of them opened another beer.
“Marty, would you do just one thing for me?” Sonny asked quietly.
“If I can.”
“Tell us one personal thing right now. Past or present. Just one, and I’ll shut up.” He paused. “For now.”
Rico held his breath. He couldn’t believe Sonny’s audacity in forcing Castillo’s hand with such a request. He was afraid that Sonny had just destroyed the easy camaraderie they were enjoying here on the boat.
Castillo didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he asked, “Just one?”
“Just one.”
Rico slowly let out his breath. Maybe this would work out after all. He studied Martin’s profile from the corner of his eye and waited.
Castillo took a long swallow and finished his beer. He tilted his head back until it rested on the back of the deck chair. He looked straight up at the stars and said softly, “I don’t want to go home.”
Rico felt a wave of compassion wash over him as the full weight of sorrow and loneliness in Martin’s voice hit him and hung quivering in the air. What kind of personal hell had he endured this week? Rico could only imagine.
“Then, don’t,” Sonny said flatly and broke the tension-charged atmosphere. “Today is Saturday. Even we are entitled to a weekend off now and then. Let’s go away for the weekend in this boat. I know an island not too far away, but far enough, where we can fish or swim or do nothing. And there’s a little store near there where we can get food and stuff.” He stood up.
Rico and Martin were both staring at him as though he’d lost his mind. But Sonny’s growing enthusiasm was catching and Rico felt an answering spark of anticipation. “All right,” he said. “I’m game. Let’s go.”
“I—“ Martin began.
“Don’t tell me you can’t.” Sonny turned on him almost ferociously. Martin looked up at him in surprise. “Any objection you have, I can fix it. Clothes? Wear mine—what Elvis hasn’t chewed. Money? That’s what credit cards are for. Work? It’ll be there Monday. We can call Trudy or Gina and tell them where we’re going. In fact, Martin, consider yourself kidnapped.” He stopped and glared down at Martin, a perfect imitation of Castillo’s own patented glare.
For a long moment Sonny and Rico thought Martin would still refuse to go. Finally, he said, “Let’s go,” with the beginnings of a smile on his face.
“Great! I’ll go below and set the course. You two get ready to cast off.”
Anyone close enough might have heard the strains of “Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of beer” being sung by Sonny—at least until Rico threw an empty beer can at him—as the sun’s light brightened the horizon and the ‘St. Vitus’ Dance’ pulled away from her moorings and headed out to sea.