by Roy Glenn
“He sees this as an opportunity. Me gone, Bobby laying back, makes it look like your strength is exhausted. We need to deal with this now or other mutha fucka’s will raise up outta nowhere to try some shit like this.”
“You knew sooner or later this was gonna happen. We had a long run. Peaceful,” Bobby said, “Everybody respecting everybody’s position and everybody making money. Mutha fucka’s ain’t got no respect for shit.”
“Don’t be so hard on them, Bobby. That was us ten years ago. Young, not afraid of shit, we took power. We saw André slippin’, laying back, letting us run the show. Like we’re doing now, me kickin’ it in the Bahamas, you playing the role. This was bound to happen sooner or later.”
“See what you started when you killed Chilly, Nick?” Bobby asked, and Nick simply nodded his head.
Before Nick killed him, Chilly ran most of the drugs uptown. He used to deal for André back in the day. It was Chilly who made peace with Mike, and they set up the dead zone where nobody would deal. Now D-Train was trying to step up to Chilly’s position by moving on the dead zone.
“What do we do now? Freeze asked.
Whether Mike intended to or not, he made Freeze feel like this was happening because somebody, maybe everybody saw him as weak; somebody they could roll over. He knew that whatever happened from this point forward, he would have to take the lead, step up and crush this nigga quick.
“The thing to do now is figure out what your enemies are planning and stop them. The next thing to do, and hopefully you have, is prevent any more of his people from trying to set up in our houses.”
“I have. He set up in Rocky’s old spot. We need to start taking the shit to them, Black,” Freeze recommended.
“Just fall up in there and start blastin’?” Bobby asked.
“We used to,” Mike said.
The timing of this wasn’t lost on him. This couldn’t be happening at a worse time. What he should have been doing was concentrating his attention, his efforts, and his power on fighting off the takeover bid, but he couldn’t. All his resources were tied up in finding Shy. His enemy would know that and exploit it. A smart enemy would make it happen.
As Nick and Freeze went to the office, Mike and Bobby continued the conversation. “I remember reading once that it is only one who is thoroughly acquainted with the evils of war that can understand the profitable way of conducting it.”
“And the best thing is to take over our operation intact. Destroying it isn’t the smart move,” Bobby said.
“Exactly my point, Bobby. That ain’t Curl. On his best day, he wouldn’t have the brains to try this. He wouldn’t see the profit in it. You want somebody to kick in some doors, do some killin’ and be brutal about it, Curl’s your man, but not like this.” Mike paused. “Somebody is pulling his strings. That’s who our enemy is.”
When Mike and Bobby came in the office, they found Freeze on the phone, nodding his head, and Nick seated comfortably on the couch. Freeze looked at Mike and then to Nick.
“Who was on the phone?”
“Angelo. He says he needs to see you as soon as you can. Says it’s important.”
“He say what it was about?”
“Nick.”
Chapter Eight
“Tony no!” Shy shouted.
Seeing the police open fire on Tony and watching as he fell to the ground, Shy took a deep breath. She tossed and turned.
“Tony’s dead.”
She was having a nightmare.
“This way, Shy!” She saw Orlando die.
“Freeze!”
The cop fired.
Shy tried to sit up, but she couldn’t. It had been a long time since she had nightmares about the night Tony died and she became a fugitive.
Now she lay blindfolded and spread-eagle on a bed, with her hands and legs tied. Shy had no idea where she was or how she got there. The last thing she remembered was being on the boat with Sal and Julio when the doctor came. Then Sal held her while the doctor gave her a sedative.
Shy moved her eyebrows up and down, trying to move her blindfold enough so she could see. All she could tell was that she was in a small room and that the sun was shining. Nothing more.
All Shy could do now was wait. Wait to see what was going to happen next.
Am I being held for ransom?
Are they gonna kill me?
Or rape me and then kill me?
Shy tried to think of something a bit more pleasant. She thought about the trip she and Mike took to Rio. Not only about the wonderful time they had there, but about how, in Rio de Janeiro, Shy first started talking about facing her charges.
It began one night after the club closed. Shy began talking about the Bahamian celebration of Carnival.
“But do you know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Shy asked as she sat down at one of the tables.
“What’s that?”
“I wanna go to Carnival in Rio.”
“You’ve never been to Carnival in Rio de Janeiro, Cassandra?” Mike said, trying to sound as bougie and superior as he could.
Shy rolled her eyes at him and said in the same tone. “No, Michael, I’ve never been to carnival in Rio de Janeiro.”
“Neither have I. And I always wanted to go there too,” Mike said and sat next to her. “Only reason I haven’t gone is I don’t wanna be bothered with the crowds.”
“I know what you mean.” Shy paused and thought for a second. “Well, why don’t we go for a few days and leave before the crowds come?”
“That’s fine, but it does kinda kill the purpose in going if we leave before Carnival.”
Shy leaned forward, looked into his eyes and smiled. “So, do you think you can tolerate the crowds for a day or two?”
“How can I say no to those eyes and that smile?”
Shy paused and thought for a moment. “I got a better idea. Why wait for Carnival? Why don’t we just go?” she asked. “I don’t know about you, but I could really use a couple of days off this rock.”
Now it was Mike who paused, then he smiled at his wife. “Sounds like a real plan coming together.”
“Perfect!” Shy said. “There’s one more thing,” Shy said and moved her chair closer to his. “And I know how you feel about it, but can we, you know, like, play tourist?”
Mike took a deep breath and agreed, even though his idea of the perfect vacation was to be as far away from other people as possible. Sightseeing required being around a bunch of people that Mike didn’t want to be bothered with. On the other hand, Shy was desperate to be around people, to be a part of the crowd.
Shy missed being in New York, missed being a part of the whole I live in New York experience. Living on an island paradise was wonderful, but it does get old after a while. There were times when Shy wondered how Mike could stand it.
But he goes to New York at least two or three times a month, Shy would rationalize.
There were many days when she’d seen Mike get up early, catch a flight to New York and be back late that night.
When Mike woke up the following morning, Shy was at the computer and had arranged the entire trip. She informed him that she had chartered a plane, and they were staying at the Copacabana Palace Hotel, a five-star hotel on the beach. She told him that she had arranged for them to take a tour of the top ten attractions in Rio.
“Like what?” Mike asked.
“It’s a lotta stuff in Portuguese that I really can’t pronounce, but trust me, I know how fascinated you are by historical things, so I know you’ll love it,” Shy assured him.
As soon as they landed, Shy grabbed the first brochure that she could find and began to read aloud to Mike. “Rio de Janeiro is the name of both a state and a city in southeastern Brazil,” a very excited Shy read as she eased her arm around Mike’s. “The city is famous for the hotel-lined tourist beaches, one of which we’re staying at, Copacabana, and Ipanema, for the giant statue of Jesus, known as Cristo Redentor or something like that. But it means Christ the
Redeemer. It’s on the Corcovado Mountain, which, by the way, is part of our tour tomorrow. It’s Brazil’s second-largest city after São Paulo and used to be the country’s capital until 1960, when Brasília took its place.”
“Fascinating.”
The first day Shy and Mike wandered around, Shy shopped and took pictures with her new digital camera. As it turned out, Shy was right about her husband. Mike found Rio de Janeiro to be a city rich with history and magnificent architecture, both of which fascinated him. Now as they walked back to their hotel, it was Mike reading aloud from a guidebook to Shy.
“The actual city wasn’t founded until March 565 by Portuguese knight Estácio de Sá, who called it São Sebastião do Rio de Janeiro, which means St. Sebastian of the January River, in honor of King Sebastian of Portugal. It was frequently attacked by pirates, especially by then enemies of Portugal, such as the Netherlands and France. In the late 16th century, the Portuguese crown began treating the village as a strategic location for Atlantic transit of ships between Brazil, the African colonies, and Europe. Fortresses were built and an alliance was formed with nearby native tribes to defend the settlement against invaders,” Mike read.
Shy kissed Mike on the cheek. “See, baby, I told you you’d love it.”
“You were right, I do. Just like I love you.”
“I love you too. And I just love being in a real city,” Shy said and moved on quickly. “What do you want to eat?”
“Something Brazilian. Seafood is always nice,” Mike replied and Shy broke out her list of recommended restaurants.
“What about Confeitaria Colombo? According to the map it’s not far from here.”
“I thought we passed that while we were downtown,” Mike said.
“This is a branch of the one downtown. It’s located at the Copacabana Fort, and it says that it offers the most beautiful view of Copacabana Beach.”
And with that thought in mind, Shy requested a table outside. They were escorted to their table, and Mike pulled her chair out for her.
Always the perfect gentleman.
After the waiter took their order, Shy looked out at the sand and the water, felt the gentle breeze against her cheeks. One thing she couldn’t deny, she loved the beach.
As promised, they went sightseeing the following day. Their first stop was Corcovado. There they found Rio´s best-known icon, Cristo Redentor, Christ the Redeemer, a concrete statue of 30 meters whose wide-open arms seemed to embrace the city and offered a magnificent view of Rio.
Mike had to admit, “The view is spectacular, Cassandra. I am glad you talked me into this.”
After a day of sightseeing, they had a late dinner at Tia Palmira, which served extremely fresh fish, shrimp or crab all prepared with typical Brazilian recipes. They started with fried squid and then a bobó de camarão, which is shrimp in palm oil and ground yucca.
“I love it here,” Shy said while they waited for their food.
“Do you really? Maybe we should have moved here.”
“That would be fine except that I don’t speak Portuguese. But I love it. I love being in a city, any city.” Then Shy paused. “Don’t you wanna move back to New York?”
“No.”
“I do.”
“You ready to go to jail?” Mike asked, as he did every time Shy mentioned New York. But he wasn’t prepared for her answer.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I said yes. Living in an island paradise is wonderful, and I love being there with you. I love being anywhere that you are.” Shy reached across the table and held Mike’s hands. “Michael, I love you, but I am bored out of my mind in the Bahamas.”
“Okay, so we’ll pick another island.”
“You’re not understanding me, Michael. I want to go back to New York, and I’m willing to go to jail if I have to,” Shy said slowly and clearly, making sure that she pronounced every syllable.
“Have you lost your mind?”
“No, baby, I really am thinking about it. What I’m hoping is that I won’t have to do any time, and if I do, it won’t be for long. I’ve been talking to Wanda, and she thinks she can plea it down to a misdemeanor and get probation, or I may only have to do a year.”
“No,” Mike said flatly and Shy dropped it. She was enjoying their vacation too much to ruin it with that.
They had fun the next couple of days, spending their days either at the beach or somewhere near the water and sightseeing. Their nights were spent dancing at clubs like the Nova Lounge and Spazio in Ipanema. The subject didn’t come up again during the rest of the trip, but it was all out there.
They didn’t discuss it again until the night before all this began, Shy was thinking when she heard somebody unlocking the door. She tried to lie as still as possible and watched as two people entered the room. All that Shy could see under the blindfold was that it was a man and woman.
“There she is. You happy now?” Shy heard the man say.
“No. I’d be happy if you kill the bitch now and get it over with,” the woman said.
“That ain’t gonna happen. I told you before, the man says to keep her alive until he gets here.”
“You could say that she was trying to escape, and you had to shoot her.”
“What you think I’ma do? Untie her, tell her to run and shoot her in the back? Is that what you think I should do? Do I look stupid to you? ’Cause that’s how that move would make me look … stupid. Stupid and dead.”
“I don’t care what you tell them, just kill her.”
“Ain’t happenin’.”
Shy watched as the woman stepped closer to the man. “Please, baby. Do it for me.”
“I told you that shit ain’t happenin’, now stop fuckin’ asking me that shit. This bitch gonna lay right here, alive, until he gets here and takes her off my hands.”
The man and woman left the room, but before they closed the door, Shy heard the man say, “I thought you was over that shit.”
As Shy heard the door lock, she tried to think of who this woman was and why she wanted the man to kill her so badly.
Chapter Nine
There weren’t too many days when Detective Kirkland was late getting to the precinct, but today was one of those days. It was a little after 12:30 when Kirk sat down at his desk with his coffee. And it wasn’t too much longer before he heard, “Kirk! You and Richards, my office now!”
“What did you do now?” Kirk asked Richards as he got up.
“I ain’t did shit, officer. That bitch trippin’,” Richards joked as he followed Kirk into the captain’s office, where there were two men already seated in front of the captain’s desk. The two men rose to their feet when the detectives entered the office. Kirk recognized one of them right away.
“Detectives, this is State Senator Martin Marshall, and this is Kenneth DeFrancisco of the DEA,” the captain said, and the men all shook hands. “Kirk here is our resident expert on Mike Black.”
“What can you tell me about Mike Black’s involvement in drug trafficking, detective?” Agent DeFrancisco asked.
“Nothing,” was Kirk’s simple answer.
“Excuse me?” The agent gave the captain a puzzled look then looked back at Kirk.
“I can’t tell you anything because there’s nothing to tell. Mike Black has no involvement in drugs or drug trafficking.”
“We have information that leads us to believe that’s incorrect,” Senator Marshall said.
Kirk looked at Marshall, making no effort to hide his contempt. “And what might that be?”
“We’ll share that information with you at the appropriate time, detective,” Agent DeFrancisco answered. “Right now, what I need is your assistance in this investigation.”
“I assured the agent that you would assist the DEA in any way you could, detective,” the captain interjected.
“You planning on conducting this investigation in the Bahamas, Agent DeFrancisco? Because that’s where he is.”
“Mr.
Black and two associates arrived at JFK at ten-thirty this morning,” Marshall said.
“Now, you two will serve in primarily an advisory role, but I’m sure you’ll get in on some of the action,” Agent DeFrancisco said and stood up. “Captain, I’ll leave you to brief the detectives. Thanks for your time and cooperation.” Agent DeFrancisco and Senator Marshall left the office.
After they were gone, Kirk asked the captain, “Now, what the fuck was that about, Gus? You know as well as I do that Black’s got nothing to do with drugs.”
“That’s true as far as I know, but who knows?”
“And to be honest with you, I don’t trust anything that that sleaze Marshall is involved in.”
“Look, Kirk, the guy is a state senator, and that means I don’t fuck with him unless it is absolutely necessary.” The captain handed Kirk a piece of paper. “Listen, you and Richards report to that address in the morning. You spend a couple of months with those assholes, telling them what they wanna know, and if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll get to spend some time in the Bahamas.”
“I’m all for that,” Richards said.
“Okay, Gus,” Kirk said and stood up. “But I still don’t like it.”
“Yeah, whatever; enjoy the vacation. Check with Narcotics before you go. Make sure that what these assholes are doing doesn’t interfere with any on-going operations.”
“Yes, sir,” Kirk said and left the captain’s office.
Kirk and Richards went straight to the head of Narcotics, Lieutenant Gene Sanchez. “You’re wasting your time, Kirk. We got nothing going on Black. The guy’s been off our radar for years,” Sanchez told Kirk.
“What about his wife, Cassandra Sims? Got anything on her?”
“She never was a major player. We had to drop the murder case against her, and her lawyer’s been putting a lot of pressure on the ADA to produce some evidence. We lack evidence and we have no witnesses. Half the people that were there are dead, and the ones that didn’t die are doing their time quietly, so sooner or later we’ll be forced to drop our conspiracy to distribute case against her. So, if the fuckin’ DEA got something on either one of them, you make damn sure they fuckin’ share it with me.”