Drug Lord- Part II

by Patrick Logan

  No sooner had his heels hit the sidewalk, however, did Drake drive them down.

  Then he buckled over at the waist and vomited.

  Three bouts later, he wiped his mouth and lifted his eyes to look at his brother.

  Dane stared back. With only the moonlight illuminating him from behind, he really did look like a phantasmo.

  “We have to go,” he said, pointing to a rusted pickup that was idling by the curb. There was a driver inside and he was gesturing madly out the window at them. “Damien, we need to go, now!”

  Chapter 33

  “This is bullshit,” Screech grumbled as he struggled to adjust his shirt. No matter what he did, it kept riding up and ruffling about his middle, making him look fat. “These damn shirts have all these buttons, but no one thought to put buttons on the bottom so that you can fasten to your pants, so it never moves up?”

  Hanna looked over at him and laughed.

  “You look… you look like a used Bible salesman.”

  Screech growled.

  “Not much of a fucking market for those, is there?”

  Hanna laughed again. She was wearing a dark blouse and fitted jeans, complete with thick heels. She looked pretty good, actually. Good and comfortable.

  “Yeah, I'd go easy on the Bible jokes,” Leroy warned from the back seat.

  “Oh, great,” Hanna complained. “Why did you have to say that? Now I’ll be thinking about Bible jokes all night.”

  Screech glared at her.

  “What?”

  “A while back, I was dating this guy from Russia and one time he told me that his sister was planning a visit from the motherland. He asked if I wanted to meet her, and I said sure. Everything was fine leading up to the encounter, but when we were in a cab going to meet her at a restaurant, he leans over to me and says, ‘you know, my sister has a good sense of humor, but it’s probably best to lay off the land mine jokes.’ I was like, what the hell? I didn’t even think I knew any land mine jokes. But, sure enough, I knew one. And, within ten minutes of meeting Mina, I just blurted it out. If he hadn’t warned me, I would have never said a stupid land mine joke, but because he did, it was like impossible not to!”

  Screech made a face.

  “There’s something wrong with you.”

  Hanna laughed.

  “Sure, but let me ask you this: how did Moses make his coffee?”

  “Hanna, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Hebrews it.”

  Screech shook his head and Leroy groaned.

  “Yeah, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” The boy fingered the chain that had once belonged to his brother but was now buried beneath his T-shirt as he spoke.

  Eager to change the subject, Screech said, “Hey, how come you get to wear a T-shirt, but I gotta wear this god—uhh, this stupid dress shirt?”

  “Because you're the boss, that's why. Look, unless you want DSLH Investigations to become DSH Investigations, you’re gonna have to act all professional-like.”

  “DSH Investigations,” Screech grumbled as he tried once more to adjust his shirt. “Fewer mouths to feed.”

  “Be nice now, Screech,” Hanna said, using her best motherly voice.

  Screech’s scowl deepened.

  “Hanna, I’m going to get you back for this. When—”

  “There it is,” Leroy said, pointing at an apartment complex to their right.

  Uncomfortable as he felt, Screech was also proud of what he’d done; when Leroy had told him the whole story of what happened to his brother, and then to his mom—how she'd been assaulted in her own apartment—he’d had no problem giving the man an advance on his first check.

  He figured he owed him anyway, given that they’d nearly been mowed down by a maniac with a machine gun. And now, seeing the modest but safe digs that the boy's mother had moved into, he felt good.

  After all the things he’d done with Drake over the years that made him feel dirty, this made him actually feel good. And that was worth the cash he’d shelled out.

  Screech parked the car and was stepping out of the vehicle when his shirt came untucked again.

  “Jesus Christ,” he grumbled, jamming it back into his pants.

  “Now, now, Screechie-poo,” Hanna mocked.

  Screech tucked the bottle of wine under one arm then reached out to swat her. He missed, but she got the idea and didn’t say anything else until they got to the door.

  ***

  “Hi, Mom,” Leroy said, as he leaned into the apartment and gave his mother a kiss.

  “Leroy,” the woman replied curtly.

  Kinesha Walker was a tall, thin woman with her hair pulled back in cornrows. She was attractive, which wasn't surprising given the fact that Leroy himself was a good-looking young man.

  But what Screech hadn't been prepared for were the laser beams coming out of her eyeballs, aimed directly at him.

  The stare made him even more uncomfortable than his shirt.

  “Hi, my name is Screech—uhh, I mean Stephen. Stephen Thompson,” he blubbered, holding the wine out to her.

  Kinesha glanced down at the bottle but didn’t take it.

  “This is a dry household, Screech Stephen,” she said, pressing her full lips together.

  Screech’s face went beet red. Hanna scoffed, and he thrust an elbow in her direction. She deftly dodged the blow and stepped forward, extending her hand.

  “My name's Hanna,” she said softly. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”

  “I've heard a lot about you, Hanna,” Kinesha replied as they shook hands. “Leroy speaks very highly of you.”

  What the fuck? What did I do wrong?

  “Come on in and make yourself comfortable,” she said, gesturing to the interior of the apartment. “I've got something I need to tend to on the stove.”

  Leroy stepped inside, and Hanna followed.

  Screech looked at the wine bottle in his hand, debating whether he should leave it outside the door or bring it inside with him.

  In the end, he decided to bring it along.

  “You could've told me about the wine,” Screech whispered in Leroy’s ear as he removed his shoes.

  Leroy looked over at Hanna and winked.

  “What would be the fun in that?”

  Screech scowled and was about to condemn the boy when his shirt came untucked again.

  Chapter 34

  It was just Drake and Dane now. The Colombian man who had driven them to the remote location had left shortly after dropping them off. Not before exchanging words with Dane, however, words uttered too quietly for Drake to hear.

  But Drake didn’t care. He didn’t even care that all they had between them was a bag of basic supplies and a couple of dull machetes. He didn’t even care that all he had to fill his stomach was extra-salty jerky and a warm beer.

  What he cared about was all those dead people back in the diner and in the dungeon beneath.

  Sure, he’d killed people before; he’d killed many of them on his way to saving Mandy and Veronica. But that had been different. These people… these Colombians had been killed because somebody was trying to save him. And he wasn’t worth saving.

  “What happened to you, Dane?” he asked softly between chews of the tough jerky.

  When his brother looked at him quizzically, he realized that it was much too broad a question. So, he clarified.

  “What happened to you on the boat?”

  Dane swallowed some beer and then answered the question in his flat affect that Drake was becoming accustomed to.

  “Wesley tried to take me out,” he replied. “But I knew it was going to happen and I got the jump on him. The bastard got away, though. Set the whole goddamn boat on fire.”

  Drake made no effort to hide his unease.

  “Why were you even on the boat in the first place?”

  This time, Dane refused to answer and simply shook his head. They continued to munch on beef jerky and take swallows of warm beer for the next sever
al minutes in silence.

  Drake wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was clear that the harsh blanket of night would lift in a few hours. Where they would go next, however, was less certain.

  “How did you know where to find me?”

  Dane shrugged.

  “You stand out like a sore thumb. Ken and Wesley might have most of the local drug trade working for them, but I still have a few loyal men. Like Pablo who drove us out here.”

  Out here…

  Drake looked around. He was reminded of when he’d just stepped off the boat and onto Colombian soil. They were surrounded by lush, green vegetation devoid of landmarks.

  “And where, exactly, are we?

  “Colombia,” Dane replied. Drake’s first thought was that his brother was making a joke. But looking at that face… he got the impression that Dane didn’t have much of a sense of humor. At least, not anymore.

  It was a simple, almost childish answer but, in a way, it was also a satisfactory one.

  The truth was, it didn't really matter where they were, all that mattered to Drake, all that ever mattered, was that Ken and now Wesley Smith were here, too. And while he was grateful that his brother was alive and that he’d saved Drake’s life, he still had a job to do.

  And Drake was nothing if not determined.

  Dane tossed his empty beer bottle over his shoulder then reached into his bag. He pulled out a pair of fatigues and a heavy sweatshirt.

  “Put these on. It gets cool in the early morning hours. And then see if you can get some sleep; we’ve got a long day of hiking tomorrow.”

  Chapter 35

  “So, did you finish college, Stephen?” Kinesha asked from across the table.

  Screech hard-swallowed the chicken that he’d been chewing.

  “No, I didn't finish it. I went for a few years—computer sciences—but I didn’t finish my degree.”

  He didn't know why he felt guilty admitting this; after all, he’d come to terms with this long ago, as had his parents—they were just glad that he wasn't in and out of prison like his brother—but he did.

  He felt guilty and ashamed.

  This woman, this Kinesha Walker… she was so intimidating that it was like she was Screech’s mom and not Leroy’s.

  “What about you, Hanna?”

  Hanna nodded, took a sip of her iced tea, and then said, “I did my undergrad in psychology, and then completed a master’s degree in human behavior.”

  Screech was glad that he’d already swallowed his chicken; if he hadn’t, it might have fallen right out of his mouth and onto his plate.

  A Master’s degree? Who the fuck is this person?

  Even Leroy, who had been an even keel all dinner, seemed taken aback by this.

  “I just love learning about how people behave, about the underlying reasons for their actions.”

  Kinesha was beaming now and if Hanna had been across from him, Screech might have kicked her under the table. He didn’t know if what she was saying was true, but it seemed that everything that came out of her mouth just made him look like a larger pile of garbage.

  A hot, steaming pile of garbage.

  “Yeah, I also find people’s behavior and actions interesting,” Kinesha said, her eyes on Screech the entire time as if admonishing his own actions.

  What in the Sam hell did I do wrong here?

  “The chicken is delicious as usual, Mom,” Leroy said when there was a lull in the conversation.

  “It's very good,” Screech added. He cringed at his own words; he felt like a teenager on a first date trying to impress the woman's father. Only, in this case, Leroy was his date and it was his mother who was giving him fits.

  “Thank you,” she said, rising from the table.

  “Please, sit,” Hanna interjected. “I'll clean.”

  “Why thank you, Hanna.”

  Kinesha smiled and sat back down again. Hanna promptly took hers and Leroy's plates into the kitchen.

  What a kiss ass.

  While Hanna was out of the room, Kinesha turned her focus back to Screech.

  “Stephen, where’s the other man that Leroy is always talking about? Where’s Drake?”

  Screech looked over at Leroy accusingly. He had no idea that the man’s mother knew about Drake.

  “He, uhh, well, he's taking a little time off, a little break. But I assure you, Drake—”

  “So, you're the one in charge, then?”

  “Well, we’re a team, really. I mean—”

  “My son is barely eighteen years old… you mean to tell me that he’s in charge? That…”

  Hanna reappeared to collect Screech’s plate. Her timing was impeccable and therefore likely planned.

  “What Stephen means to say, is that we work through everything together—discuss all our clients. But when it comes to the big decisions, yes, Stephen is the one who has the final say.”

  “I see.”

  “And is there any danger involved in your business? I mean, I appreciate what you've done for Leroy and our living situation, but the last thing I want is for him to be in danger.”

  Screech pictured Leroy first at the trap house trying to sell the thugs’ own heroin back to them and then in the back of the police cruiser, a gun aimed between his eyes.

  “No, of course not. Most of the time, we’re just following up with old ladies who misplaced their silverware.” Not a lie, really. “But I appreciate your concern. To be honest, Leroy is mostly a behind-the-scenes guy, until he gets his feet wet. He’s just going to be helping me with the computers, doing background research, that sort of thing.”

  Leroy smiled and pulled something out of his pocket.

  “Check this out, Mom, I got my own PI badge.”

  He handed the badge to his mom who gave it a cursory glance, before placing it down on the table.

  “He will be finishing high school. I also want him to go to college.”

  Another hard swallow.

  “If Leroy wants to go to college, he can go to college. I have no problem with that.”

  Kinesha nodded curtly.

  “And benefits? What are the health and dental benefits like at DH-whatever Investigations?”

  Screech was over his head, and everyone at the table knew it, or so he thought. Just a few months ago it only had been him and Drake, and Drake didn't really give a shit what happened with the business provided he got his man. Now, ever since bringing Hanna and Leroy on board, things had become complicated.

  “Stephen? What about benefits?”

  Hanna returned from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, Stephen, I'm expecting that DSLH will have full health and dental benefits? Because, you know, those things are expensive. I'm also thinking about maternity leave.” She turned to Kinesha. “Not now, of course, but in the future.”

  Oh, shit, why not throw in free flights around the world while I’m at it?

  Screech realized that he was scowling, and he tried to smile as he faced Kinesha.

  “I'm still working out the details, but I'm pretty sure that we’ll have full health and dental at DSLH.”

  “Pretty sure”

  This is ridiculous.

  “Yes,” he barely croaked. “Full dental and health.”

  Kinesha was beaming now.

  “Great, just great. Well, provided Leroy stays in school and finishes, I suppose that I can approve of this.”

  “Awesome,” Screech said glumly. “Now, what's for dessert?”

  Chapter 36

  Drake barely slept at all during what was left of the night. This was partly because he was sore all over, he had a headache, his liver hurt, his wrists ached, but mostly because he was afraid to dream.

  For as long as he could remember, he dreamed about Clay and what happened that night. But after the man responsible—Ray Reynolds—had committed suicide with the rest of his congregation, the nightmares had faded.

  But now, the Skeleton King had returned, this time wearing Ken Smith’s expensive thread
s. And then there was Jasmine. Jasmine was entrenched in this whole mess, somehow involved with the heroin ring. He had no idea how or why, but the photo he’d left on her doorstep was evidence enough for him.

  After this was all over, if he managed to take care of Ken and Wesley and make it out of Colombia alive, Drake wondered if he would ever be able to see his son again. Then he questioned if that would be a good idea, for either of them.

  After all, Beckett was right. Everything he touched turned to shit.

  He didn't know why, but that was just his fate.

  The sunrise in the jungle that morning was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. Light filtered down through the dew-covered trees, forming rainbows everywhere he looked. The jungle itself slowly came alive, as well, first with the sound of birds, and then with insects chasing the last vestiges of night away.

  With the sun came the heat, and Drake took off the sweatshirt his brother had given him. He located the bag that they’d pulled their paltry meal out of the night before, and he stood with the intention of putting the sweatshirt in it. Drake stopped when he realized that his brother was also awake and that he was staring at him. Most of the war paint had worn off and, in the early morning light, Dane looked less commando and more his brother.

  “What happened to you?” Drake asked instinctively. He expected his brother to ignore the question, but the man tossed him some beef jerky and then nodded.

  For some reason, even though the night before this very question had been too broad, too ambiguous, it was more poignant now, and Dane knew exactly what he was referring to. And, to Drake’s surprise, he also answered.

  “Suffering,” Dane said simply. He indicated the cutlass standing upright in the soil and Drake picked it up. It was surprisingly heavy, and the handle well worn. Dane gripped a nearly identical one in his own hand. “I witnessed suffering, Drake. That's what happened to me. I was too young to see the things Ray Reynolds did to his parents. It changed me. And then when I came here, I saw more things, horrible things. After that, there was no going back.”