Chapter 63: Ron's Plan
The immediate danger had passed, but Ron didn't release Monica right away. Since she couldn't see what was happening from her angle, Ron decided to have a little fun and whispered in her ear, "Play along," before pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss.
Five minutes later, Monica gently pushed him away. "There. Was that convincing enough? How about we get down to business now?"
She nodded toward the side mirror. From her position, she could see exactly what was happening behind them. So she'd been playing along from the start?
Ron was secretly thrilled, but he'd had his fun. Time to focus on the job. Once he completed this mission, there'd be plenty of opportunities for more. "I'm new to this operation, so fill me in. What's your game plan?"
"You're cutting it close. Verone was looking for drivers, and I just watched two FBI agents get recruited," Monica said, smoothing out her clothes that Ron had rumpled. "Verone's already picked them."
"Let me guess—Detective O'Conner and some smooth-talking black guy?" Ron enjoyed watching Monica's surprised reaction.
"Even if the timing was perfect, I'm not interested in playing chauffeur for Verone. That's not my style. Besides," Ron gestured skyward, "the boss is breathing down my neck. I want this wrapped up fast—preferably within forty-eight hours."
"Impossible!" Monica stared at Ron like he'd lost his mind. "Do you have any idea how paranoid this guy is? There's no way an outsider like you could get within a mile of him!"
"Who said anything about getting close to him?" Ron walked over to the car Yuri had left him, popped the trunk, and nodded approvingly at the contents. Yuri definitely knew his business.
"So what's your play?"
Ron's expression turned serious. "First, I need you to help me pinpoint exactly where Verone's keeping that evidence."
"I can tell you right now. It's stashed inside the walls of a crack house down in the projects near the waterfront, along with his cash reserves. Nearly a dozen of his guys are guarding it, and here's the kicker—the Bureau's already suspicious of that location.
They don't want to move until they're absolutely certain. If you don't make a play soon, Verone's going to have them all eliminated and skip town within a week, tops."
Monica's eyes practically lit up when she mentioned the word "cash."
Ron carefully recalled the movie's plot and noticed something off. Logically, even Monica shouldn't have known about this location. Verone shouldn't reveal it until he was ready to flee, sending two of his trusted men to escort the undercover duo to retrieve the money.
If Monica knew all along, why hadn't she reported it?
Monica suddenly leaned in, draped her arms around Ron's neck, and gave him a mischievous wink. "Wondering why I didn't tip off those FBI morons? Think about it—what's in it for me? Don't forget, we're playing for the same team here."
Ron immediately understood the look in Monica's eyes: this woman wanted her cut too! No wonder she'd kept quiet.
Well, she really was the kind of woman who could take down a crime boss. But Ron didn't mind sharing some of the windfall he'd originally planned to pocket—it was all bonus money anyway.
"Alright, I think we need to strategize..."
After finalizing their plan, Monica returned to Verone's operation. She couldn't stay away too long without raising red flags. Ron also got Verone's complete daily schedule from her, which would help him refine his strategy.
A direct assault on Verone's safehouse? That was the most straightforward approach, but also the dumbest.
Ron was confident he could handle Verone's dozen guards solo. However, his primary target wasn't the money—it was the evidence. If he drew FBI attention, not only would it be nearly impossible to extract the evidence without their knowledge, but Ron himself would be compromised.
That was absolutely unacceptable. He wanted to steal both the cash and the evidence without leaving a trace.
It seemed the FBI, not Verone's crew, posed the biggest threat to Ron's mission. So Ron devised a brilliant solution.
That evening, Verone threw a party for his organization at Club Amnesia, one of South Beach's most exclusive nightspots. FBI surveillance teams, constantly monitoring Verone's movements, had already infiltrated the venue through various channels.
Besides the FBI and Verone's gang, there was a third faction caught between both sides: corrupt local cops on Verone's payroll. They were invited too.
Ron, watching everything unfold from the rooftop of a building across from the club, finally smiled when he spotted the nerdy Detective O'Conner and his partner talking to security at the entrance.
"All players on the board! Time to start this show!"
Ron pulled down his tactical mask and rappelled from the rooftop, now dressed in full FBI SWAT gear.
Inside the club, Verone, wearing a sadistic grin, placed a large rat inside a metal bucket and positioned it upside-down on the stomach of an overweight man whose arms and legs were restrained to a table by Verone's enforcers.
This was the corrupt police sergeant Verone had been bribing, who'd recently been assigned by the FBI to monitor Verone's assets. When Verone ordered him to pull back his surveillance, the sergeant refused. Verone wanted to make an example of this double-crossing cop in front of his new recruits.
"I'm a police officer! Verone, you can't do this to me! If something happens to me, every cop in Miami will hunt you down!"
Inside the bucket, the rat's squeaking and claws scratching against metal created a horrifying symphony.
Unfazed, Verone picked up a blowtorch and began heating the bucket. "Listen to that. The rat's going to try to dig its way out because of the heat. Where do you think it's going to go?"
The sergeant's eyes bulged in terror, but his mouth was gagged, leaving him helpless to do anything but struggle.
"It's biting me!" the officer finally managed to scream, but his voice was drowned out by the pounding music outside, drawing no attention. Verone signaled, and the gag was replaced.
The blowtorch turned the bucket red-hot, and while the squeaking stopped, that wasn't good news—it just meant the source of the noise was now frantically digging.
"Talk to me! Tell your guys to back off! Tell me!" Verone demanded.
Meanwhile, Ron had already crawled through the ventilation system into the nightclub. The sergeant's backup officers were busy hitting on the beautiful women Verone had provided, sitting at poker tables, completely oblivious to their boss being tortured in the back room.
Ron looked down at the corrupt plainclothes cops below, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk, and shouted:
"The sergeant's been taken by Verone's crew! Boys, grab your pieces and go save the boss!"
(End of chapter)
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