Victor smiled as he stuffed the papers back in the pants and then put them back into the clothes bin. He had what he needed.

*****

“Rubio says this guy is ten grand in the hole,” the man said as he sat next to Alvarez. It was Jose Herrera, his most trusted asset in Miami. Jose was a native of Miami. His parents had set their roots in Hialeah in the late sixties after fleeing Cuba, and although he didn’t officially work for the Cuban DGI, he was very much on their payrolls.

The Dirección General de Inteligencia was the main state intelligence agency of Cuba. Since opening for business in late 1961, the DGI had been involved in intelligence and espionage operations across the globe. They had been involved in aiding leftist revolutionary movements in Africa, the Middle East, and mostly Latin America. In the United States, the DGI had been heavily involved with international drug trade, assisting homegrown terrorist cells, and intelligence gathering operations for third party countries.

“Total?” Alvarez asked as he watched the greyhounds speed by on the track. He was wearing a white button down shirt and straw fedora with khaki slacks.

“This month,” Jose replied.

Alvarez put down his binoculars and looked at Jose. He had been using them to search for his target in the opposite stands. He knew the man would be there. It was Thursday night, after all.

“Rubio must appreciate that,” Victor replied. Juan Rubio was one of the most vicious bookies in South Florida. He was known for extracting money from his clients at any cost and with his ties to the Latin Kings gang, he was immune from retribution or prosecution. No one dared to cross him.

“He already owes Rubio five grand,” Jose said, lowering his voice, “Rubio’s giving this guy just enough rope to hang himself.”

Alvarez chuckled as he went back to his binoculars. He scanned the crowd in the stands across from them looking for his target.

“So he has the same plan we do,” Victor said as he watched the man wearing shorts and a blue polo shirt. It was Special Agent Jay Leon, the new agent assigned to the Foreign Intelligence/Espionage desk of the Miami Field Office of the FBI.

Jose shrugged, “Do you want me to talk to him, boss?”

“See how much money it will take to buy him out,” Alvarez responded. “I’m going to have a chat with our new friend.”

*****

Victor Alvarez waited patiently in the dark corner of the VIP room of the club. Strip clubs were ideal for meetings like this, especially the VIP room. The loud music and dark rooms made it harder for people to eavesdrop. People rarely paid attention to anything but the girls, and no one gave a second glance to suspicious activity.

But Victor’s target had no idea they were meeting. Victor’s presence in the corner of the little strip club was the culmination of months of work spent selecting the target, working his way in, and finding his leverage.