I totally misunderstood what you were getting across. My sincerest apologies. And thanks for giving me something to fill in the blanks on Klima's childhood in Omaha. That's some great local color I would not have known about.
Protect & Survive Miami: End of Watch
- Thread starter wolverinethad
- Start date
I totally misunderstood what you were getting across. My sincerest apologies. And thanks for giving me something to fill in the blanks on Klima's childhood in Omaha. That's some great local color I would not have known about.
Chapter 9
Chapter 9
January 2, 1984
The Orange Bowl
Miami, FL
Detective Klima was both ecstatic and irritated. Ecstatic to be in the Orange Bowl on the biggest night for Nebraska in nearly 15 years, irritated that he wouldn't be able to see too much of the game because of his assignment. Oh, and to make it all worse for him, his wife and his father-in-law were here, watching together from their seats. That brought jealousy and fear into the equation. Jealousy that she'd get to watch the game throughout and he couldn't, afraid because what if Soviet bombers showed up tonight? To that end, the USAF, USN, and FANG all had fighters in the air in substantial numbers, and the Goodyear blimp received Air Force One level protection leading up to the game, with MPs guarding it and intel troops giving it a full inspection before it took off for the game. USAF security was on the blimp with its civilian pilots, and an Army helicopter pilot was on board as well in case the pilots were poisoned or bought off somehow. There had never been heavier security for a sporting event, and the Super Bowl three weeks later would have just as much security, being in Tampa.
There was one saving grace for Klima: at least his plainclothes attire for the night didn't require him to wear a Hurricanes cap or shirt. He never would have lived it down from his wife.
Klima's assigned area had him walking a beat, so to say, between four sections of the stadium, while at times sitting on steps and scanning with binoculars. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans with deck shoes, looking to all the world like just another fan. The problem was he had to look at the crowd, look for anyone out of place. For a football fan like Jan, it was going to be the purest form of torture.
As the game started, the feeling of torture got worse. Miami's offense was kicking ass and taking names. That young quarterback Kosar was pinpoint, running the pro-style offense with laser accuracy. Medium range passes, slants, outs, hitches, Kosar was on fire. Before Nebraska knew it, they were down 17-0, and Miami's defense wasn't allowing the Cornhusker offense to breathe. For a team that had scored at will all season long, this was not what they were used to. Klima's scans of the crowd showed nothing but delirious Hurricanes fans, and glum Big Red supporters in from his home state. God, a bomb would almost be welcome to slow these guys down.
Soon before halftime, things turned around. Tom Osborne reached deep into his bag of tricks and pulled out a "fumbleroosky," where the quarterback fakes a fumble on what is really a designed play. The burly offensive lineman, Dean Steinkuhler (predicted to be a first-round pick in the NFL Draft), picked it up and ran it for a touchdown. Jan started to pump his fist, then remembered why he was here. Inside his head, though, he was waving a red towel and yelling. The next series, Turner Gill took off on an electrifying 40-yard run, leading to a goal line score a few plays later. Klima was starting to smile. Maybe we'll win this thing after all, and I can give Rosa crap about it for the next week.
Klima returned to walking the crowd as halftime came, and fans started strolling the concourse, headed for restrooms and concessions. Klima was about to turn for another lap when he bumped into someone smaller. He looked down and saw a small black kid, holding hands with a cute freckled redheaded girl. "Hey, little man, sorry I bumped into you....hey, I saw you at the hotel the other day after the beaches got closed. You kids doing ok?" asked Klima. The black kid nodded. "Yes, we're okay. It's my fault, I should've been paying attention. I know you're working, so I don't want to distract you." The detective was taken aback. "Working? Why do you think that?" he asked.
"Well, you've been walking around, you have nothing in your hands, and you're not wearing a Miami shirt. Are you a cop or a soldier?" the kid inquired. "Young man, you are really smart. Yes, I'm a Miami detective, but don't say anything loudly. We're just trying to keep all of you safe so you can enjoy the game," Klima said. "That's okay," the girl piped up, "Nebraska's gonna come back and beat your Hurricanes!" Jan smiled and crouched down from his 6'3" height. "I got a secret for you guys. I'm from Nebraska. Went to South Omaha High, then went to school at Lincoln when Coach Devaney won the 1971 championship. Went into the Army afterwards, then ended up here. It's killing me that I can't root for Big Red tonight." The redheaded girl giggled. "It's okay, when we win the game, then you can cheer and no one can stop you, because the game will be over and you'll be done working!" Klima smiled again. "I like your style. What's your names?" The black kid replied, "I'm Chip, and this is Jill, and we're from Omaha too."
"Well, Chip, Jill, I hope you enjoy the game and the rest of your time in Miami. Here's a high-five for Big Red." The detective slapped both their hands, and watched as they walked away. That was really nice. I hope those kids never have a scare like the other day again.
*****
The third quarter saw Miami rush back out to a big lead. Nebraska could only muster a field goal against two touchdowns by Miami, and it was 31-17 after three. Klima was dejected, but still carrying on with his job. He definitely felt like the only explosion was going to be Miami fans after another 15 minutes of gameplay. Nebraska's first possession of the fourth quarter saw Mike Rozier, Mr. 2,148 yards rushing, Mr. Heisman Trophy winner, go down with a bad leg injury. The red-clad fans throughout the Orange Bowl were grim-faced. Klima decided to walk the concourse again, unable to bring himself to watch. Yet, as Klima paced a nearly-empty corridor, he heard a roar, and walked back to a section entrance to see Jeff Smith, Rozier's backup, plow into the endzone. An extra point later, and the game was 31-24.
Holy crap we might do this.
During a commercial break, scores from the other bowl games were projected on the endzone scoreboards. A roar went up when the Rose Bowl score showed UCLA firmly having beaten Illinois, a one-loss team going in. Another roar for the Sugar Bowl score, with Auburn, a close challenger to Nebraska, having only won 9-7. Number 2 Texas had lost in the Cotton Bowl earlier, so the stakes were truly high here. Either team, with a win, could be, would be, the national champions. Everyone in this stadium had forgotten about Soviets and Cubans and fighter planes in the sky. Football had returned to the forefront of America's minds, especially these tens of thousands of fans in the Orange Bowl who'd been chased off a beach days before.
Miami's offense had stalled now. A field goal by Miami went wide left, and Nebraska had the ball now, with a few minutes to play. Klima had forgotten about scanning the crowd. He was watching now, firmly engaged in the game. Turner Gill dropped back to pass, Miami rushing in, Gill scrambled and fired a dart to Irving Fryar, another likely first-round pick, taking Nebraska into Miami territory. Now it was the Big Red Wave that was roaring, and Hurricanes fans looking concerned. Miami's defense wasn't tops in the nation because they were slackers. They scrapped, clawed, and generally made it extremely hard for Nebraska to keep moving upfield.
4th and 8 now, Miami 22-yard line. Nebraska was either going to get a first down and maybe tie the game, or Miami would take down the most dominant offense in college football history. Gill lined up under center, took the snap, faked a quick slant, and dashed to the right. Gill was quick, and the linebackers were hurrying after him. The safety flew up, and as he wrapped his arms around Gill, the quarterback pitched it to Jeff Smith, who had a big opening down the right sideline. Smith picked up blocks from Fryar and Ricky Simmons, running in for the touchdown. Every Nebraska fan in the stadium was screaming their lungs out, and now everyone wondered: did Nebraska play for the tie, for safety, with the chance of losing the national title, or go for it all, a two-point conversion with little chance of succeeding and a large chance of failure.
Tom Osborne trusted his quarterback. He loved him like a son. He waved him back to the huddle.
Up at the top of a section of the Orange Bowl, a Miami detective, born and raised in Omaha, held his breath. Seated rows below, two twelve-year-old children screamed their lungs out while holding hands and praying at the same time. Miami fans everywhere stood up and made as much noise as possible to distract Nebraska, hoping to cause a false start. Turner Gill might've been the calmest person on the field. Nebraska broke huddle. Gill got the snap, faked a handoff, rolled right, looked for an open receiver. Miami had the receivers locked down. Gill pump-faked, got a defensive end to jump up, then took off for the pylon. He broke an ankle tackle, stutter-stepped a second defender out of the way, and dived for the end zone, extending the ball over the line. Nebraska had the lead, 32-31, and Klima was pumping his fist, standing behind everyone.
Several plays later, Kosar threw a high arcing pass towards the endzone, where he had a one-on-one matchup. Just as it looked Miami might win on this incredible pass, Neil Harris, the Nebraska cornerback, leaped up and picked it off. The game was over. Nebraska had won, and Detective Jan Klima high-fived every Nebraska fan he could find.
Rosa should've known better. Nobody beats Big Red.
_____________________________________________________
A special thank-you to @Chipperback for writing about this game, and giving me the details to work with to merge with End of Watch.
January 2, 1984
The Orange Bowl
Miami, FL
Detective Klima was both ecstatic and irritated. Ecstatic to be in the Orange Bowl on the biggest night for Nebraska in nearly 15 years, irritated that he wouldn't be able to see too much of the game because of his assignment. Oh, and to make it all worse for him, his wife and his father-in-law were here, watching together from their seats. That brought jealousy and fear into the equation. Jealousy that she'd get to watch the game throughout and he couldn't, afraid because what if Soviet bombers showed up tonight? To that end, the USAF, USN, and FANG all had fighters in the air in substantial numbers, and the Goodyear blimp received Air Force One level protection leading up to the game, with MPs guarding it and intel troops giving it a full inspection before it took off for the game. USAF security was on the blimp with its civilian pilots, and an Army helicopter pilot was on board as well in case the pilots were poisoned or bought off somehow. There had never been heavier security for a sporting event, and the Super Bowl three weeks later would have just as much security, being in Tampa.
There was one saving grace for Klima: at least his plainclothes attire for the night didn't require him to wear a Hurricanes cap or shirt. He never would have lived it down from his wife.
Klima's assigned area had him walking a beat, so to say, between four sections of the stadium, while at times sitting on steps and scanning with binoculars. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt and jeans with deck shoes, looking to all the world like just another fan. The problem was he had to look at the crowd, look for anyone out of place. For a football fan like Jan, it was going to be the purest form of torture.
As the game started, the feeling of torture got worse. Miami's offense was kicking ass and taking names. That young quarterback Kosar was pinpoint, running the pro-style offense with laser accuracy. Medium range passes, slants, outs, hitches, Kosar was on fire. Before Nebraska knew it, they were down 17-0, and Miami's defense wasn't allowing the Cornhusker offense to breathe. For a team that had scored at will all season long, this was not what they were used to. Klima's scans of the crowd showed nothing but delirious Hurricanes fans, and glum Big Red supporters in from his home state. God, a bomb would almost be welcome to slow these guys down.
Soon before halftime, things turned around. Tom Osborne reached deep into his bag of tricks and pulled out a "fumbleroosky," where the quarterback fakes a fumble on what is really a designed play. The burly offensive lineman, Dean Steinkuhler (predicted to be a first-round pick in the NFL Draft), picked it up and ran it for a touchdown. Jan started to pump his fist, then remembered why he was here. Inside his head, though, he was waving a red towel and yelling. The next series, Turner Gill took off on an electrifying 40-yard run, leading to a goal line score a few plays later. Klima was starting to smile. Maybe we'll win this thing after all, and I can give Rosa crap about it for the next week.
Klima returned to walking the crowd as halftime came, and fans started strolling the concourse, headed for restrooms and concessions. Klima was about to turn for another lap when he bumped into someone smaller. He looked down and saw a small black kid, holding hands with a cute freckled redheaded girl. "Hey, little man, sorry I bumped into you....hey, I saw you at the hotel the other day after the beaches got closed. You kids doing ok?" asked Klima. The black kid nodded. "Yes, we're okay. It's my fault, I should've been paying attention. I know you're working, so I don't want to distract you." The detective was taken aback. "Working? Why do you think that?" he asked.
"Well, you've been walking around, you have nothing in your hands, and you're not wearing a Miami shirt. Are you a cop or a soldier?" the kid inquired. "Young man, you are really smart. Yes, I'm a Miami detective, but don't say anything loudly. We're just trying to keep all of you safe so you can enjoy the game," Klima said. "That's okay," the girl piped up, "Nebraska's gonna come back and beat your Hurricanes!" Jan smiled and crouched down from his 6'3" height. "I got a secret for you guys. I'm from Nebraska. Went to South Omaha High, then went to school at Lincoln when Coach Devaney won the 1971 championship. Went into the Army afterwards, then ended up here. It's killing me that I can't root for Big Red tonight." The redheaded girl giggled. "It's okay, when we win the game, then you can cheer and no one can stop you, because the game will be over and you'll be done working!" Klima smiled again. "I like your style. What's your names?" The black kid replied, "I'm Chip, and this is Jill, and we're from Omaha too."
"Well, Chip, Jill, I hope you enjoy the game and the rest of your time in Miami. Here's a high-five for Big Red." The detective slapped both their hands, and watched as they walked away. That was really nice. I hope those kids never have a scare like the other day again.
*****
The third quarter saw Miami rush back out to a big lead. Nebraska could only muster a field goal against two touchdowns by Miami, and it was 31-17 after three. Klima was dejected, but still carrying on with his job. He definitely felt like the only explosion was going to be Miami fans after another 15 minutes of gameplay. Nebraska's first possession of the fourth quarter saw Mike Rozier, Mr. 2,148 yards rushing, Mr. Heisman Trophy winner, go down with a bad leg injury. The red-clad fans throughout the Orange Bowl were grim-faced. Klima decided to walk the concourse again, unable to bring himself to watch. Yet, as Klima paced a nearly-empty corridor, he heard a roar, and walked back to a section entrance to see Jeff Smith, Rozier's backup, plow into the endzone. An extra point later, and the game was 31-24.
Holy crap we might do this.
During a commercial break, scores from the other bowl games were projected on the endzone scoreboards. A roar went up when the Rose Bowl score showed UCLA firmly having beaten Illinois, a one-loss team going in. Another roar for the Sugar Bowl score, with Auburn, a close challenger to Nebraska, having only won 9-7. Number 2 Texas had lost in the Cotton Bowl earlier, so the stakes were truly high here. Either team, with a win, could be, would be, the national champions. Everyone in this stadium had forgotten about Soviets and Cubans and fighter planes in the sky. Football had returned to the forefront of America's minds, especially these tens of thousands of fans in the Orange Bowl who'd been chased off a beach days before.
Miami's offense had stalled now. A field goal by Miami went wide left, and Nebraska had the ball now, with a few minutes to play. Klima had forgotten about scanning the crowd. He was watching now, firmly engaged in the game. Turner Gill dropped back to pass, Miami rushing in, Gill scrambled and fired a dart to Irving Fryar, another likely first-round pick, taking Nebraska into Miami territory. Now it was the Big Red Wave that was roaring, and Hurricanes fans looking concerned. Miami's defense wasn't tops in the nation because they were slackers. They scrapped, clawed, and generally made it extremely hard for Nebraska to keep moving upfield.
4th and 8 now, Miami 22-yard line. Nebraska was either going to get a first down and maybe tie the game, or Miami would take down the most dominant offense in college football history. Gill lined up under center, took the snap, faked a quick slant, and dashed to the right. Gill was quick, and the linebackers were hurrying after him. The safety flew up, and as he wrapped his arms around Gill, the quarterback pitched it to Jeff Smith, who had a big opening down the right sideline. Smith picked up blocks from Fryar and Ricky Simmons, running in for the touchdown. Every Nebraska fan in the stadium was screaming their lungs out, and now everyone wondered: did Nebraska play for the tie, for safety, with the chance of losing the national title, or go for it all, a two-point conversion with little chance of succeeding and a large chance of failure.
Tom Osborne trusted his quarterback. He loved him like a son. He waved him back to the huddle.
Up at the top of a section of the Orange Bowl, a Miami detective, born and raised in Omaha, held his breath. Seated rows below, two twelve-year-old children screamed their lungs out while holding hands and praying at the same time. Miami fans everywhere stood up and made as much noise as possible to distract Nebraska, hoping to cause a false start. Turner Gill might've been the calmest person on the field. Nebraska broke huddle. Gill got the snap, faked a handoff, rolled right, looked for an open receiver. Miami had the receivers locked down. Gill pump-faked, got a defensive end to jump up, then took off for the pylon. He broke an ankle tackle, stutter-stepped a second defender out of the way, and dived for the end zone, extending the ball over the line. Nebraska had the lead, 32-31, and Klima was pumping his fist, standing behind everyone.
Several plays later, Kosar threw a high arcing pass towards the endzone, where he had a one-on-one matchup. Just as it looked Miami might win on this incredible pass, Neil Harris, the Nebraska cornerback, leaped up and picked it off. The game was over. Nebraska had won, and Detective Jan Klima high-fived every Nebraska fan he could find.
Rosa should've known better. Nobody beats Big Red.
_____________________________________________________
A special thank-you to @Chipperback for writing about this game, and giving me the details to work with to merge with End of Watch.
Assuming they survive, of course.
On one hand, Klima is an ex-Army officer who served on the Cold War frontlines. He has a good sense of what can happen. On the other hand, he has a strong-willed wife who will be, at the least, very reluctant to leave him behind and go to a place of safety.
Oh, and lest we forget, Klima is trying to find the mastermind behind all this drug-fueled murder. If he's close to finding Rivera when war breaks out, he may be determined to finish the job so Rivera can't threaten a post-war landscape.
Not saying any of this WILL happen, but it COULD.
Chapter 10
Chapter 10
January 3, 1984
Miami Police Headquarters
Miami, Florida
"Hey, Klima! I saw you last night! You must've jarred your brain when you hit the deck last week, cause you done lost your mind running around high-fiving all them CORN-huskers." One of the other homicide detectives was razzing Jan this morning, but it was all in good fun. The detective giving him crap was a Florida State graduate, with no love for the Hurricanes. Luis Cárdenas, on the other hand, wasn't so happy.
"Goddammit, Jan, we had to dive into sand because of a fighter jet battle, and now your hick-ass state had to all pile down here and cost us the national title, in our town? Oh, and you know damn well that was pass interference on that last throw by Kosar!" He was half-smiling as he said it, but the kid who'd watched Andy Gustafson's dominant late 50's teams and then suffered for a long time before Lou Saban and Schnellenberger raised the program back to its former heights was crushed by the one-point defeat. "Luis, we got lucky, man. No way we should have won that game. We played like crap most of the night. Don't worry, y'all will be back next year," Klima replied.
Before the banter could continue, the tone of the Emergency Broadcast System began coming through a radio in the corner. Everyone's head snapped around, staring at the desk holding it. One of the detectives turned up the volume. "This is an emergency message from the office of the governor of Florida. All beaches are closed until further notice in southern Florida from Naples to Fort Lauderdale, including the Keys. Repeat, all beaches are closed until further notice in southern Florida from Naples to Fort Lauderdale, including the Keys. There is military activity taking place off the coast, and the beaches may not be safe. In the Miami metropolitan area, the Rickenbacker Causeway, MacArthur Causeway, Interstate-195 bridge, and Venetian Way are closed to all vehicles except for official city, county, and state personnel. Residents will be allowed to return home after showing identification, but once home, cannot leave until this emergency is lifted. We repeat, the Rickenbacker Causeway, MacArthur Causeway, Interstate-195 bridge, and Venetian Way are closed to all vehicles except for official city, county, and state personnel. Residents will be allowed to return home after showing identification, but once home, cannot leave until this emergency is lifted. This concludes our emergency broadcast. Stay tuned to this radio frequency for updates."
The detectives all looked at each other. Nobody said a word. Then another radio crackled to life.
"Detective Klima, this is dispatch. You are needed at the Newport Beach Hotel, 16701 Collins Ave. Please copy." "This is Klima, I copy. On my way." Jan grabbed Luis, and out the door they went, their minds wondering what "military activity" was happening to cause this many things to close.
*****
At the hotel, a reminder of the old days of Miami, now turning to slow decay, Klima and Cárdenas walked into the lobby to find crime scene tape and a very tall, irate state's attorney. "Gentlemen, I hope you can explain to me how our star witness in pursuing these drug traffickers, one my office has moved around repeatedly at great cost to keep him safe, ended up with his brains on the opposing wall of his room, and his detail missing," she said. Detective Klima was used to looking down at people at his 6'3" height, but this woman was eyeball to eyeball with him, and Klima knew how tough she was. She'd gone into the worst neighborhoods after the riots in 1980 and taken all manner of questions (and abuse). Officer Cárdenas, on the other hand, was definitely unused to be looked down at, literally, by a woman, but at 5'8", he was giving up a half-foot, and her glare made even his machismo wither.
"Ma'am, we were not responsible for his detail, and there's very few people we discussed this case with. One is my normal boss, Lieutenant Rodriguez, who's serving with the National Guard and has since soon after the bust. The other is our current boss, Captain Grimes, as well as a couple of guys in vice. We've been pursuing the homicides, mainly, trying to find out how and why these guys are getting whacked. If someone talked, it certainly wasn't us. Can you tell us what happened?" asked Klima, as plainly as possible.
The SA pulled out her notepad. "The hotel called an hour or so ago, said they'd heard some noises, perhaps someone yelling. No one answered the phone in the room, nor a knock on the door, so a patrol squad came. They opened the room and found our witness, strapped in a chair with duct tape, and a large hole in his head. The officers found his wallet, called the name in, and, per my instructions, I was called by a dispatcher, which is why I'm here. Having seen this mess for myself, I then had you called, since this is your case. I have to tell you, this guy had been a minor gold mine, and now that he's dead, we need to investigate the names he gave us. The only reason I hadn't done more is because my team was digging through bank, land, and tax records, and I didn't want to alert the targets. Clearly they found out anyway, so now it's time to put the heat on."
"What would you like us to do, ma'am?" Cárdenas asked.
"First of all, I'm going to speak with Chief Harms and have you report directly to me until this investigation is concluded. I'm also going to have a team investigate everyone else that's touched this information, and find out who leaked what. I am really pissed off this man is dead, and his detail being missing means somebody told them to disappear. Not too many people can make that happen. I want these drug-dealing bastards off my streets. Here's the first name for you: Antonio García. He's supposedly the enforcer for one of the Cuban drug lords. If that's true, there's a good chance a lot of your victims were killed by this man. I know it's a common name, but we ran it by INS, and one entered the country with the Marielitos that is believed to have served time in a Cuban prison. He's probably your best bet."
"How come us? If you're having everyone investigated by IA, why are we being chosen for this?" Klima asked. "It's simple, Detective. I know you're clean. I know your partner here is clean, too, because I've had him checked out since you began stakeouts together," the SA said. Cárdenas blinked hard at that. "Oh, don't feel so bad, Officer, I've been playing at this game a lot longer than you have, and I know how to get answers. So, go get me some answers for what happened here." The SA turned and walked away.
"Jan, who was that? She looks like she could break rocks with her hands. I ain't used to be looked down at," Luis asked. Jan chuckled. "That, my friend, is Janet Reno."
January 3, 1984
Miami Police Headquarters
Miami, Florida
"Hey, Klima! I saw you last night! You must've jarred your brain when you hit the deck last week, cause you done lost your mind running around high-fiving all them CORN-huskers." One of the other homicide detectives was razzing Jan this morning, but it was all in good fun. The detective giving him crap was a Florida State graduate, with no love for the Hurricanes. Luis Cárdenas, on the other hand, wasn't so happy.
"Goddammit, Jan, we had to dive into sand because of a fighter jet battle, and now your hick-ass state had to all pile down here and cost us the national title, in our town? Oh, and you know damn well that was pass interference on that last throw by Kosar!" He was half-smiling as he said it, but the kid who'd watched Andy Gustafson's dominant late 50's teams and then suffered for a long time before Lou Saban and Schnellenberger raised the program back to its former heights was crushed by the one-point defeat. "Luis, we got lucky, man. No way we should have won that game. We played like crap most of the night. Don't worry, y'all will be back next year," Klima replied.
Before the banter could continue, the tone of the Emergency Broadcast System began coming through a radio in the corner. Everyone's head snapped around, staring at the desk holding it. One of the detectives turned up the volume. "This is an emergency message from the office of the governor of Florida. All beaches are closed until further notice in southern Florida from Naples to Fort Lauderdale, including the Keys. Repeat, all beaches are closed until further notice in southern Florida from Naples to Fort Lauderdale, including the Keys. There is military activity taking place off the coast, and the beaches may not be safe. In the Miami metropolitan area, the Rickenbacker Causeway, MacArthur Causeway, Interstate-195 bridge, and Venetian Way are closed to all vehicles except for official city, county, and state personnel. Residents will be allowed to return home after showing identification, but once home, cannot leave until this emergency is lifted. We repeat, the Rickenbacker Causeway, MacArthur Causeway, Interstate-195 bridge, and Venetian Way are closed to all vehicles except for official city, county, and state personnel. Residents will be allowed to return home after showing identification, but once home, cannot leave until this emergency is lifted. This concludes our emergency broadcast. Stay tuned to this radio frequency for updates."
The detectives all looked at each other. Nobody said a word. Then another radio crackled to life.
"Detective Klima, this is dispatch. You are needed at the Newport Beach Hotel, 16701 Collins Ave. Please copy." "This is Klima, I copy. On my way." Jan grabbed Luis, and out the door they went, their minds wondering what "military activity" was happening to cause this many things to close.
*****
At the hotel, a reminder of the old days of Miami, now turning to slow decay, Klima and Cárdenas walked into the lobby to find crime scene tape and a very tall, irate state's attorney. "Gentlemen, I hope you can explain to me how our star witness in pursuing these drug traffickers, one my office has moved around repeatedly at great cost to keep him safe, ended up with his brains on the opposing wall of his room, and his detail missing," she said. Detective Klima was used to looking down at people at his 6'3" height, but this woman was eyeball to eyeball with him, and Klima knew how tough she was. She'd gone into the worst neighborhoods after the riots in 1980 and taken all manner of questions (and abuse). Officer Cárdenas, on the other hand, was definitely unused to be looked down at, literally, by a woman, but at 5'8", he was giving up a half-foot, and her glare made even his machismo wither.
"Ma'am, we were not responsible for his detail, and there's very few people we discussed this case with. One is my normal boss, Lieutenant Rodriguez, who's serving with the National Guard and has since soon after the bust. The other is our current boss, Captain Grimes, as well as a couple of guys in vice. We've been pursuing the homicides, mainly, trying to find out how and why these guys are getting whacked. If someone talked, it certainly wasn't us. Can you tell us what happened?" asked Klima, as plainly as possible.
The SA pulled out her notepad. "The hotel called an hour or so ago, said they'd heard some noises, perhaps someone yelling. No one answered the phone in the room, nor a knock on the door, so a patrol squad came. They opened the room and found our witness, strapped in a chair with duct tape, and a large hole in his head. The officers found his wallet, called the name in, and, per my instructions, I was called by a dispatcher, which is why I'm here. Having seen this mess for myself, I then had you called, since this is your case. I have to tell you, this guy had been a minor gold mine, and now that he's dead, we need to investigate the names he gave us. The only reason I hadn't done more is because my team was digging through bank, land, and tax records, and I didn't want to alert the targets. Clearly they found out anyway, so now it's time to put the heat on."
"What would you like us to do, ma'am?" Cárdenas asked.
"First of all, I'm going to speak with Chief Harms and have you report directly to me until this investigation is concluded. I'm also going to have a team investigate everyone else that's touched this information, and find out who leaked what. I am really pissed off this man is dead, and his detail being missing means somebody told them to disappear. Not too many people can make that happen. I want these drug-dealing bastards off my streets. Here's the first name for you: Antonio García. He's supposedly the enforcer for one of the Cuban drug lords. If that's true, there's a good chance a lot of your victims were killed by this man. I know it's a common name, but we ran it by INS, and one entered the country with the Marielitos that is believed to have served time in a Cuban prison. He's probably your best bet."
"How come us? If you're having everyone investigated by IA, why are we being chosen for this?" Klima asked. "It's simple, Detective. I know you're clean. I know your partner here is clean, too, because I've had him checked out since you began stakeouts together," the SA said. Cárdenas blinked hard at that. "Oh, don't feel so bad, Officer, I've been playing at this game a lot longer than you have, and I know how to get answers. So, go get me some answers for what happened here." The SA turned and walked away.
"Jan, who was that? She looks like she could break rocks with her hands. I ain't used to be looked down at," Luis asked. Jan chuckled. "That, my friend, is Janet Reno."
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Second canon adjustment
So, I originally had written that Klima went to West Point, but then had him saying he went to Nebraska in Chapter 9. After thinking it over, I'm sticking with the latter, and have changed the Prologue to reflect as such. Klima went to UN-Lincoln, served in ROTC, and went down to Ft. Benning for OCS, followed by a stint at Ft. Knox's Armor School prior to being deployed in Germany in 1972. Sorry to anyone reading if the changes are jarring, but I've decided this works best for the story.
Nazi Space Spy
Banned
As a Floridian, this terrifies me. That aside, I once met Coach Schnellenberger at Hooters of all places. I didn't even know who he was at that point, being ten (and not a sports fan), but I got to hold his Superbowl ring.
If I were to suggest a place where Kilma could send his wife and daughter before the balloon goes up, I would suggest Fort Pierce, Fort Myers, or Naples; all three are likely to be out of the potential fallout paths and are within easy driving distance of Miami (and Fort Pierce is near the Port St. Lucie nuclear plant, which will likely not be hit, for reasons I've already mentioned).
Also, postwar, WWL in New Orleans (again, I'm going with Land of Flatwater) is still on the air (since New Orleans was, basically, the United States' version of Newcastle (1) in the original Protect and Survive); the Florida survivors are likely going to be able to pick it up...
Cape Canaveral is likely to be hit, so kiss Melbourne (likely) goodbye; hell, to be blunt, the less Floridians who survive the strikes, the better it is for the survivors postwar. That's harsh, but this will be the situation postwar...
BTW, have you read Alas, Babylon? Good nuclear war story set in Florida a generation before Protect and Survive...
Like how the characters are focusing on the drug plot while, in the background, the crisis grows and grows...
Wonder if Reno will survive postwar...
(1) Going by The Island and Land of Flatwater, East New Orleans (above the Michoud assembly plant; it's unclear if this was a near-miss or targeted), gets a 800-kiloton-to-1-megaton airburst; the rest of New Orleans survives...
Also, postwar, WWL in New Orleans (again, I'm going with Land of Flatwater) is still on the air (since New Orleans was, basically, the United States' version of Newcastle (1) in the original Protect and Survive); the Florida survivors are likely going to be able to pick it up...
Cape Canaveral is likely to be hit, so kiss Melbourne (likely) goodbye; hell, to be blunt, the less Floridians who survive the strikes, the better it is for the survivors postwar. That's harsh, but this will be the situation postwar...
BTW, have you read Alas, Babylon? Good nuclear war story set in Florida a generation before Protect and Survive...
Like how the characters are focusing on the drug plot while, in the background, the crisis grows and grows...
Wonder if Reno will survive postwar...
(1) Going by The Island and Land of Flatwater, East New Orleans (above the Michoud assembly plant; it's unclear if this was a near-miss or targeted), gets a 800-kiloton-to-1-megaton airburst; the rest of New Orleans survives...
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I keep forgetting about Canaveral when I'm doing my planning chapters. Melbourne stubbornly lives in my assessments because I keep forgetting to nuke Kennedy Space Center into an alternate-alternate dimension, but even so, with the Cape north of the city,
That being said....as to New Orleans, the strike over the Michoud plant might've been targeted, because it also eliminates the Coast Guard base, the lakefront airport, the CSX yards, the I-10 bridge to Mississippi, hell, even the FBI office gets obliterated. That's a lot of important things. On the bright side, the Quarter and downtown are safe, Tulane & Loyola Universities are safe, the Coca-Cola bottling plant near Metairie is standing (lots of glass and aluminum there, I'm sure), and the Mississippi River remains navigable. That's one of those lucky strokes.
@FickleCrossroad, could you explain the legend in the 500-millibar map you posted? I don't understand the symbols over central Florida.
The legend itself? All an upper air chart is, is showing how high you have to go to reach a certain air pressure, estimated contour lines based on location of observed data and atmospheric characteristics, along with wind direction and speed. Short slashes on a wind barb are 5KT, long are 10KT, filled in triangles are 50KT.
Yeah, I did the nukemap for Cape Canaveral Naval Air Station and the Kennedy Space Center and Melbourne isn't affected; hell, the only way Melbourne might be affected is if they get hit by a near-miss targeting Patrick Air Force Base (which would be a target); even for a 1-megaton groundburst over Patrick, the fallout, unless the wind was blowing from the north or northeast, would largely blow out to sea (though they might get cracked windows and certainly would get any survivors from the Cape Canaveral and Patrick blasts) and it's also away from the heavy fallout zones, so it might survive postwar. Good point, wolverinethad, about Melbourne.
The Michoud strike would make sense for the Soviets, since it's an assembly plant for NASA, and constructs rockets for NASA, so it'd make sense to target it; I'll assume the strike meant for downtown New Orleans went elsewhere/was destroyed before it could take off (1)...
(1) Many of the dead from the Michoud strike, ironically, would likely include people fleeing from New Orleans in anticipation of a strike. Hell, a story set in the New Orleans metro area in and of itself would be fascinating to a degree: think the TV series Treme crossed with Protect and Survive...
Waiting for more, of course...
The Michoud strike would make sense for the Soviets, since it's an assembly plant for NASA, and constructs rockets for NASA, so it'd make sense to target it; I'll assume the strike meant for downtown New Orleans went elsewhere/was destroyed before it could take off (1)...
(1) Many of the dead from the Michoud strike, ironically, would likely include people fleeing from New Orleans in anticipation of a strike. Hell, a story set in the New Orleans metro area in and of itself would be fascinating to a degree: think the TV series Treme crossed with Protect and Survive...
Waiting for more, of course...
Depending on the throw weight successfully hitting the Tampa Bay area, Melbourne's getting moderate fallout. At the time of the exchange, the mid and upper level winds are lined up only about 20 degrees off a direct course. Most will continue toward the Bahamas, but remember how far a tornado can carry fine debris.
Chapter 11
Chapter 11
January 8, 1984
Tallahassee, Florida
Governor's Office
Governor Bob Graham was sitting at his desk, with the head of civil defense and Major General Ensslin. They were discussing the Cuban incursions and the progress of supply purchasing when Graham's chief of staff came in. "Mary, what is it..," Graham began to ask, but Mary just blew right past him and turned on the TV in the corner.
"Good morning, this is David Brinkley in Washington, D.C. We've just received the text of a speech given in Moscow by General Secretary of the Communist Party Yuri Andropov. Andropov has reportedly been ill for months now, and in his appearance, our correspondent in Moscow, Bob Zelnick, noted the General Secretary looked pale and unsteady. The text of the speech was not long, and we will read it to you now.
"Comrades of the Supreme Soviet, we are gathered today so I may discuss with you a grave and gathering threat in Europe. The imperialist West has for months been stirring up trouble inside the borders of our fraternal socialist comrades in the German Democratic Republic. In October, when the brave border guards of the German Democratic Republic were provoked by the hooligans in West Berlin, lives were unfortunately lost on both sides of the border. To ensure nobody could accuse the Soviet Union of provocation, we withdrew our soldiers from Berlin. Now, comrades, we see that the West did not honor our peaceful intentions, but instead chose to spit in our eye, and further stir up trouble amongst the young, impressionable comrades of the German Democratic Republic. This forced us to come to the aid of our allies.
The recent situation in East Germany makes our aims stridently clear. Fascism and anti-social mores must be met with the strongest stand in defense of socialism against the capitalist dis-creditors and their home base, which is West Berlin. We must have a solution to the Berlin problem. As long as the situation exists in Berlin, we will continue to deal with unrest, fascist activity and possible even neo-Nazi tendencies. The Soviet Union cannot stand by and watch a fellow socialist bulwark descend into chaos. This has been further proven by the reckless assault upon our peaceful Cuban allies, escorted by one of our aircraft, who were fired upon by the imperialist American pilots of Florida. These actions demonstrate the cowboy nature of their President. Well, Mr. President, I say to you that this is not the cinema, and the Soviet Union will not be your Indians!
Accordingly, if the West wants peace, it will have to make the first move this time. The Soviet Union and its fraternal socialist allies will not be embarrassed again by the duplicitous nature of the imperialists. We call upon NATO to withdraw its Berlin forces, and when they do, we shall do the same, and we can negotiate the status of Berlin as a free city, open to all. If the West means what they say about peace, then they shall have the opportunity to prove it. I thank you for the opportunity to speak to you, comrades, and I serve the Soviet Union!"
That is the words of Soviet General Secretary Yuri Andropov. I have with me now a specialist in Soviet affairs from Georgetown University..."
General Ensslin turned off the television. "Governor, I think we are rapidly running out of time. I want a full call-up of the Florida Guard, indefinite length of term, and once they are equipped, I want to initiate the preplanned disposition of forces. We need to have the ability to secure the state if the balloon goes up." "Excuse me, General, the balloon?" the governor asked. "Governor, that's a term we have for the initiation of hostilities, either ground or nuclear," explained Ensslin. "Either way, old Yuri just gave a chest pounding speech right there, and the problem is, we can't stop what's happening on their side of the wire. That's their own people rebelling against all the oppression of this regime. If they really think we're inciting these riots, then there will be war, and nothing we do can stop it."
The governor and the civil defense director both looked as pale as Andropov after he said that.
*****
Hialeah, Florida
Jan and Luis were currently involved in a dangerous pursuit: looking for Antonio García. So many people had said they had no idea who he was, but given the reactions of some of them, they clearly knew and didn't want to say anything. After four days of this, the two men were ready to call it quits when they got a lucky break. They were getting a cup of coffee from a donut shop when they saw a familiar face. Luis noticed first and elbowed Jan. "Look over there, hermano. That guy look like someone you know?" Klima stared from behind his Ray-Bans. "Damn, Luis, that's Captain Grimes. What the hell is he doing out here?" he wondered. Luis grabbed his partner and pulled him around a corner. He got out their binoculars and got a closer look. "You know, he's walking kind of funny. What do you think?" Cárdenas asked. He handed over the binoculars to Klima. Jan peered at their Captain, seemingly meandering through this neighborhood...."He's checking for a tail. He's doing what they taught us in OCS, when you're infantry, make sure you aren't being followed. Grimes is doing the same. We need to follow him."
Luis knew the area far better than Jan, so he started picking a path through alleys and using buildings and trees as cover. They were able to make their way ahead of their temporary boss and crouched behind some shrubs. Klima pulled out his Minox and pushed it into the shrub he hid behind, getting a view of Grimes without being seen. They snapped a few photos, then watched again. The captain finally stopped and sat down on a bus bench. He looked at the sign, then checked his watch. Luis kept an eye on their six while they waited. Their patience was soon rewarded. As Grimes leaned back on the bench, a figure showed up and sat down next to him. The man had a Hurricanes ballcap on with aviators, obscuring his face well. He reached into his pocket, pulling out cigarettes, offering one to Grimes. As the figure did so, he slipped a folded wad of cash with the lighter to Grimes, who lit the cigarette while palming the money, which he slipped into his pocket. Klima had the camera snapping as fast as he could now. The cartridge ran out, and he quickly crouched to load a new set of film into the camera, praying it didn't get exposed by the bright sunlight as he did so.
As soon as he completed it, Grimes got up and walked away. The other figure waited a couple of minutes, then began walking the way Grimes had originally come. The two detectives (Cárdenas had gotten a temporary promotion courtesy of Reno's intercession with Chief Harms, contingent upon passing the detective's exam at the end of this case) split up, tracking the mysterious figure. After getting a block down, Luis and Jan used a quick hand signal to go for the bust. Klima came charging out of an alleyway, running right at the mystery man, who immediately took off across the street into the other alley....where Luis was waiting and hit him with a perfect tackle, just like he'd been taught by his coach at Miami Senior High School. The man wasn't that small, but Luis' bodybuilding made him a particularly stiff tackler, and their prey had the wind driven out of him by the hit. He was quickly handcuffed, and turned over, whereupon Klima pulled off the sunglasses and hat.
"Well, looky here. I think we just found ourselves one Antonio García, Luis." García spit in the dirt. "I'm not gonna tell you pigs shit. You don't scare me! I've met bitches in Havana tougher than you, Wonder Bread." Klima smirked at that. "Well, little man, that's wonderful. I'm glad Havana has such tough women there. Unfortunately, you're in Miami, and we're not playing nice anymore. In fact, you're not even headed to the station first. Luis, you up for a boat ride?"
January 8, 1984
Tallahassee, Florida
Governor's Office
Governor Bob Graham was sitting at his desk, with the head of civil defense and Major General Ensslin. They were discussing the Cuban incursions and the progress of supply purchasing when Graham's chief of staff came in. "Mary, what is it..," Graham began to ask, but Mary just blew right past him and turned on the TV in the corner.
"Good morning, this is David Brinkley in Washington, D.C. We've just received the text of a speech given in Moscow by General Secretary of the Communist Party Yuri Andropov. Andropov has reportedly been ill for months now, and in his appearance, our correspondent in Moscow, Bob Zelnick, noted the General Secretary looked pale and unsteady. The text of the speech was not long, and we will read it to you now.
"Comrades of the Supreme Soviet, we are gathered today so I may discuss with you a grave and gathering threat in Europe. The imperialist West has for months been stirring up trouble inside the borders of our fraternal socialist comrades in the German Democratic Republic. In October, when the brave border guards of the German Democratic Republic were provoked by the hooligans in West Berlin, lives were unfortunately lost on both sides of the border. To ensure nobody could accuse the Soviet Union of provocation, we withdrew our soldiers from Berlin. Now, comrades, we see that the West did not honor our peaceful intentions, but instead chose to spit in our eye, and further stir up trouble amongst the young, impressionable comrades of the German Democratic Republic. This forced us to come to the aid of our allies.
The recent situation in East Germany makes our aims stridently clear. Fascism and anti-social mores must be met with the strongest stand in defense of socialism against the capitalist dis-creditors and their home base, which is West Berlin. We must have a solution to the Berlin problem. As long as the situation exists in Berlin, we will continue to deal with unrest, fascist activity and possible even neo-Nazi tendencies. The Soviet Union cannot stand by and watch a fellow socialist bulwark descend into chaos. This has been further proven by the reckless assault upon our peaceful Cuban allies, escorted by one of our aircraft, who were fired upon by the imperialist American pilots of Florida. These actions demonstrate the cowboy nature of their President. Well, Mr. President, I say to you that this is not the cinema, and the Soviet Union will not be your Indians!
Accordingly, if the West wants peace, it will have to make the first move this time. The Soviet Union and its fraternal socialist allies will not be embarrassed again by the duplicitous nature of the imperialists. We call upon NATO to withdraw its Berlin forces, and when they do, we shall do the same, and we can negotiate the status of Berlin as a free city, open to all. If the West means what they say about peace, then they shall have the opportunity to prove it. I thank you for the opportunity to speak to you, comrades, and I serve the Soviet Union!"
That is the words of Soviet General Secretary Yuri Andropov. I have with me now a specialist in Soviet affairs from Georgetown University..."
General Ensslin turned off the television. "Governor, I think we are rapidly running out of time. I want a full call-up of the Florida Guard, indefinite length of term, and once they are equipped, I want to initiate the preplanned disposition of forces. We need to have the ability to secure the state if the balloon goes up." "Excuse me, General, the balloon?" the governor asked. "Governor, that's a term we have for the initiation of hostilities, either ground or nuclear," explained Ensslin. "Either way, old Yuri just gave a chest pounding speech right there, and the problem is, we can't stop what's happening on their side of the wire. That's their own people rebelling against all the oppression of this regime. If they really think we're inciting these riots, then there will be war, and nothing we do can stop it."
The governor and the civil defense director both looked as pale as Andropov after he said that.
*****
Hialeah, Florida
Jan and Luis were currently involved in a dangerous pursuit: looking for Antonio García. So many people had said they had no idea who he was, but given the reactions of some of them, they clearly knew and didn't want to say anything. After four days of this, the two men were ready to call it quits when they got a lucky break. They were getting a cup of coffee from a donut shop when they saw a familiar face. Luis noticed first and elbowed Jan. "Look over there, hermano. That guy look like someone you know?" Klima stared from behind his Ray-Bans. "Damn, Luis, that's Captain Grimes. What the hell is he doing out here?" he wondered. Luis grabbed his partner and pulled him around a corner. He got out their binoculars and got a closer look. "You know, he's walking kind of funny. What do you think?" Cárdenas asked. He handed over the binoculars to Klima. Jan peered at their Captain, seemingly meandering through this neighborhood...."He's checking for a tail. He's doing what they taught us in OCS, when you're infantry, make sure you aren't being followed. Grimes is doing the same. We need to follow him."
Luis knew the area far better than Jan, so he started picking a path through alleys and using buildings and trees as cover. They were able to make their way ahead of their temporary boss and crouched behind some shrubs. Klima pulled out his Minox and pushed it into the shrub he hid behind, getting a view of Grimes without being seen. They snapped a few photos, then watched again. The captain finally stopped and sat down on a bus bench. He looked at the sign, then checked his watch. Luis kept an eye on their six while they waited. Their patience was soon rewarded. As Grimes leaned back on the bench, a figure showed up and sat down next to him. The man had a Hurricanes ballcap on with aviators, obscuring his face well. He reached into his pocket, pulling out cigarettes, offering one to Grimes. As the figure did so, he slipped a folded wad of cash with the lighter to Grimes, who lit the cigarette while palming the money, which he slipped into his pocket. Klima had the camera snapping as fast as he could now. The cartridge ran out, and he quickly crouched to load a new set of film into the camera, praying it didn't get exposed by the bright sunlight as he did so.
As soon as he completed it, Grimes got up and walked away. The other figure waited a couple of minutes, then began walking the way Grimes had originally come. The two detectives (Cárdenas had gotten a temporary promotion courtesy of Reno's intercession with Chief Harms, contingent upon passing the detective's exam at the end of this case) split up, tracking the mysterious figure. After getting a block down, Luis and Jan used a quick hand signal to go for the bust. Klima came charging out of an alleyway, running right at the mystery man, who immediately took off across the street into the other alley....where Luis was waiting and hit him with a perfect tackle, just like he'd been taught by his coach at Miami Senior High School. The man wasn't that small, but Luis' bodybuilding made him a particularly stiff tackler, and their prey had the wind driven out of him by the hit. He was quickly handcuffed, and turned over, whereupon Klima pulled off the sunglasses and hat.
"Well, looky here. I think we just found ourselves one Antonio García, Luis." García spit in the dirt. "I'm not gonna tell you pigs shit. You don't scare me! I've met bitches in Havana tougher than you, Wonder Bread." Klima smirked at that. "Well, little man, that's wonderful. I'm glad Havana has such tough women there. Unfortunately, you're in Miami, and we're not playing nice anymore. In fact, you're not even headed to the station first. Luis, you up for a boat ride?"
Yeah, what they're doing is illegal, of course, but any means necessary, and all that...
If the film gets developed, Grimes is so screwed it's not even funny (how is he going to explain away taking money from Antonio Garcia?)...
As Jim Ross once said in a different context, business is about to pick up...
If the film gets developed, Grimes is so screwed it's not even funny (how is he going to explain away taking money from Antonio Garcia?)...
As Jim Ross once said in a different context, business is about to pick up...
He also said "someone's about to have a mudhole stomped on him and walked dry" which I can see happening.
