Montega

by Keon Smith

  As the door shut, Carlos smiled wickedly. He then turned to look at his sister. Samorah folded her arms across her chest with an attitude. “What?” Carlos asked.

  “It’s not fair. I saw him first, and you know it,” she complained.

  Carlos shrugged. “What do you want me to do? The man made his decision. Money talks, sweetheart. Besides, you should be happy. At least he’s not a weak guy. Fuck it. If you love him that much, pay for his casket if he fails.”

  When Montega got back to his cousin’s house, he switched vehicles from the Benz to the black Impala. He then headed for Simpson Road with two things on his mind. Money and murder. He truly had a heart of stone. But little did he know, the odds might have been stacked against him from the start. What he planned to face could possibly be the death of him.

  The Snow White Committee

  “They say a diamond’s value grows the older it gets.”

  JOSE CASTRO

  Diamond sat next to Bain in her private jet as it slowly touched down on a dirt road in Cuba not too far from her grandfather’s estate. It was a bright morning and very warm despite the gray clouds that covered the sky. Awaiting her arrival were five armored SUVs filled with Cuban paramilitary soldiers. Diamond stepped out of the G-500 and into the extremely warm weather, dressed in cream linen and croc-skin pumps, courtesy of Oscar de la Renta.

  The warm breeze tousled her long hair like a silk cape. She wore dark shades while lugging a brown, leather Hermés bag. The priest followed, wiry of his surroundings. This was his first visit to Cuba, and with the thought of the embargo law on the land, he knew they weren’t supposed to be sneaking in like that. Diamond stepped to the bottom and allowed him to go first. Her bodyguards took the lead, carrying Armalite AR-10A4 machine guns.

  Samuel followed, making an invisible cross as he always did and mumbled, “In the lord, I must trust. How can you say to my soul, flee as a bird to the mountain? For look! The wicked bend their bows. They make ready their arrows on the string that they may shoot secretly at—”

  “Enough, priest,” Diamond hissed irritably. “You’ve been reciting scriptures ever since you got on the plane. Is there nothing you don’t fear?”

  “What’s not to fear when there are over a million ways to die in this world?” he asked as he looked at the soldier awaiting them. “I may appear a coward in your eyes, Madam White, but when I recite a scripture from the Bible, it gives me joy, and that joy sometimes makes me forget to be afraid.”

  Diamond had no response. She didn’t really know why she kept the priest around. She told herself she was doing this for 2 Gun Sam, who was nothing but loyal to her father, but really, this was for her own understanding. Priest Samuel was her own personal experiment that she hadn’t a clue what to do with.

  “Senora Blanca,” the men said respectfully in Spanish, which meant Ms. White.

  Diamond returned the greeting before getting inside one of the vehicles and being escorted to her grandfather’s fortress. Twice a year, Diamond had been secretly taking trips back and forth to Cuba behind her brother’s back. Smuggling pure-white heroin into the United States wasn’t the issue. The Underworld knew full-well that Diamond had inherited her grandfather’s business at a young age. It was the only reason she was brought to the table. But what they didn’t know was that Jose had helped her put together her own little commission to ensure her reign as queen—the Snow White Committee, which incorporated some of the most lucrative organizations around the world.

  The hacienda seemed to amaze her every time she pulled up to the steel gates. It was an old mansion that sat on nearly 640 acres of poppy fields and occupied 32,000 square feet. Built in 1928, the mansion was designed with three stories of tan stucco topped with brown terra-cotta roof tiles. Balconies and terraces hugged the upper windows, and the paramilitary were positioned everywhere.

  When her entourage pulled through the gate of the large mansion, José waited for her at the door.

  “Diamond. Well… it is good to see you,” he greeted with a broad smile. José was a tall man with a cappuccino skin tone, salt and pepper hair, a light beard, and wore glasses. His smile was always polite and welcoming, making her feel as if she was in the company of an actual relative.

  The two embraced. The man, who was no older than Diamond’s mother, kissed her on both cheeks then said, “They say a diamond’s value grows the older it gets, and you, my queen, are a prime example of radiant beauty.”

  “José, please. Stop trying to butter me up. I’m not that mad about the four-ton deal you secretly set up with the Jamaicans. It was a good idea to try and take the Caribbean. Too bad the ship got intercepted by the U.S. Coast Guards,” Diamond reassured him.

  José’s smile suddenly vanished. “You heard about that?” he asked.

  “Drug dealers of the Caribbean? Heard about it? It was all over CNN, José. The Government is making a big deal about it. How could I not? Now, have my guests arrived yet?” They headed down the pale marble gallery full of antiques, oil paintings, and silver, lobster-plated statue knights that stood guard every ten paces.

  “They’re down the hall, awaiting your arrival,” José responded.

  Diamond nodded and headed to the meeting. The mansion was like an old museum with the smell of oak, timber, and stone. The meeting room was on the second floor. It was freakishly large with a giant fireplace on the opposite side of the balcony window. Diamond walked in and blessed the men with a whiff of her Givenchy perfume. Amongst the men in expensive suits was Japan’s organized crime syndicate, the Six Yamaguchi-gumi, run by a short, stocky man named Yochi. Along with him was the head of the Albanian mafia, the Mexican Juarez cartel boss, Jesus “EL Chango” Vargas and the Rizzuto crime family boss from Canada. The United Kingdom was represented by the A-Team. Translators were also present to help with communications. All were almost twice Diamond’s age, yet she saw them as equals, which they saw her as an alluring profit.

  Once she was comfortably seated, she and the men discussed business. It was sort of like being at the UN; each translator would relay each message to his boss. The boss would think on it then relay their message back in return.

  “I’ve got a problem. Well, actually, two problems,” Diamond began. “I am in a tight situation, so I’m reaching out to you all. I have four targets I need eliminated. I’m willing to pay $5 million for each individual. One of them, however, is incarcerated. Two are in America, and one is in Columbia.”

  Yochi spoke in Japanese. Next, his translator asked, “Who are these men?”

  “Three of them are from South Africa. The Agugbo brothers. The other is Verningo Castor.”

  After the translations, the men had stern looks on their faces. “There’s no way we can bring that type of heat on us,” the Albanian mob boss said. “Especially with Castor. He’s way too powerful in Columbia.”

  “The minute you set foot in Columbia, he’ll know, and you’ll be dead. I’m not risking good assassins for a suicide mission,” Yochi’s translator stated.

  “I don’t think you’ve heard about the Agugbo brothers lately,” the Rizzuto family boss warned.

  “Enlighten me,” Diamond challenged, crossing her legs, her hands folded over her knee.

  “The Agugbo brothers are the top diamond smugglers in the world, meaning they have a lot of dangerous allies. You fuck with them, and you’ll have a swarm of killer bees stinging you. You can pay me $100 million; I still won’t do it. A war with them is bad for business. My advice to you is to back off them before they back you down.”

  “Speaking of killer bees,” Yochi went on to say. “I hear Castor has a wide variety of torturing assassins he calls Blood Hornets. The things they do to a man will make your skin crawl. These vile killers are positioned in hives all over the world. All he has to do is make a call.”

  Then why hasn’t he already? What is he waiting for? Diamond thought, displaying her poker face, but inside, she was crushed. She had lost a lot of good people to both the Ag
ugbo brothers and Castor. So she didn’t blame the men in her group for running scared, but she did lose a lot of respect for them. They were supposed to be the most dangerous syndicates in the world. How could they back down from four men?

  After the meeting, Diamond stood on the balcony, staring down as the men, one by one, got into their cars. Once the last man entered his vehicle, Diamond turned to look at the commander of her small, Cuban paramilitary army. She whispered something in his ear. He nodded then quickly rushed off while Sam joined her and Bain on the rail.

  “I guess this meeting was a waste of time and jet fuel. Bain, Priest Samuel, let’s go. We need to get to Atlanta,” Diamond said, sounding upset.

  “You’re leaving already?” José asked.

  “Yes, my business is finished here for now. Be sure to give me a call when you are ready to send out the next shipment this time.”

  “Ms. White, have you forgotten that I run the business until you are ready to step up?” José reminded her.

  “Yes, but Mr. Castro, it’s clear to see this business would be ruined without me. All you do is sit here in this mansion. You need to get out and see what’s going on around you before you end up an antique like the rest of the stuff in this place. Now, we’ll be in touch.”

  “Absolutely,” José said, somewhat embarrassed.

  Diamond turned and headed for the SUVs. She was angry and consumed by rage. José watched her as she made her exit. Shaking his head, he knew she was still too young to run the business, which was the reason she didn’t value the lives of others.

  Inside her vehicle, she looked over at Sam and said, “Pray, Priest. I am in need of a prayer.”

  “On what occasion, Madam White?” the priest asked.

  “Pray for the dead because, in a few minutes, twelve of the living will soon join them.”

  As the men from Diamond’s international organization pulled up to their private jets at the small airstrip designed for smugglers, they got out of their vehicles and approached their planes. But before they could board them, Diamond’s Cuban paramilitaries emerged from the woods with Cobra M-11s. The sound of fully automatic choppers cried out copper tears. The Canadian boss was the first to catch the led storm. Blood splattered everywhere.

  As bodies fell like buzz-sawed trees, Yochi, who was already hit five times, tried to take a few more steps toward his plane. Three more bullets hit him, sending his blood flying. He fell dead to the ground with the others. Every last one of them had been snuffed out because they had shown weakness. All except the Mexican leader of the Juarez cartel. Jesus “EL Chango” Vargas looked around at all the dead bodies. He looked down at himself to see he was unharmed and took it as a sign. He then stepped over them and got on his jet. This was a message that Diamond wanted to send to the cartels in Mexico. Weak men and weakness was something that Diamond White refused to tolerate.

  TWO DAYS EARLIER…

  In Washington, D.C., inside the White House situation room, the President of the United States sat with the directors of Homeland Security, the FBI, U.S. Border Patrol, the CIA, the DEA, and the United States Coast Guard about a very big problem. Throwing a newspaper down on the table, he said, “One metric ton of pure-white heroin was found a few weeks ago aboard a ship coming from Cuba. One Metric Ton. Does anyone have any idea where these drugs were going?”

  The U.S. Coast Guard director spoke up. “Well, Mr. President, my agents apprehended a few of the men on the ship, but before they could interrogate them, they swallowed cyanide and forever held their peace.”

  “What about this bandit from Columbia, the drug lord Castor?” the FBI director asked.

  “No, it’s not Castor’s style to smuggle heroin on a ship like that. This was a rush job. And Castor’s heroin usually isn’t pure and white,” the DEA director added.

  “What about the Chinese?” the President asked.

  “It could be. Or it could be that Cuban guy. What’s his name? Elcano?” The FBI chief speculated.

  “No, it can’t be. Diego Elcano died a few years ago,” the DEA director countered.

  “That doesn’t mean his business died with him. Someone always steps up to bat,” the FBI director replied.

  “Which is why I am signing this document here,” the President interjected.

  “What document, sir?” the FBI director asked.

  “I’m putting together an anti-drug task force. I want three of the best men from each of your agencies for this position. I also need a chairman to run the task force. I want this task force up and running before the next election. So you have a year to pull it together. The first target is Miami, Florida. Now, are there any suggestions on who we can recruit to run this operation? Anyone at all?”

  Everyone got quiet and looked around at each other. The FBI director raised his hand and said, “Sir, I think I have someone in the makings, someone who has a passion for this kind of operation.”

  “Okay, well, who is he?”

  Cold-Blooded

  “Diamond is on her way down here…”

  CLYDE WHITE

  Seated in a hole in the wall bar, drunk on Courvoisier and Coronas, Gary Whitehead was drowning in his misery. Not only had he lost his partner, but his wife also left him, and his youngest daughter hated his guts. To add insult to injury, the person responsible for his partner’s death was now in custody, taking responsibility for every homicide in the city and calling himself the Phantom while the real killer roamed free. He knew that Lil’ Man couldn’t possibly be responsible for all those bodies. There was somebody he was hiding. But who?

  As the bartender poured him another double shot, the police commissioner walked in and took a seat beside him.

  Commissioner Allen was a large, white man, with a giant head full of gray hair, beady, blue eyes, and a nose like a cow. He wore a gray and black plaid suit with a white shirt and black tie. He signaled for a bartender and looked over at his detective.

  “Why do you look so down, Whitehead? You just captured the man responsible for the death of your partner, along with seventeen men, women, and children. You should be celebrating.”

  “Commissioner, we all know that Mendez couldn’t possibly be responsible for even half those murders. Some of the fingerprints found at the scene of some of those crimes don’t even match his,” Whitehead stated.

  “I know, but if it makes the mayor of this city look good—along with me and the police force; that includes you—then I don’t give a shit who takes the blame. And you shouldn’t either.”

  “Yeah, well, sorry I’m not jumping for joy. I’ve got a lot of things on my mind.”

  The commissioner looked over at Whitehead and immediately realized something. He had seen this situation before. Whitehead resembled himself at one time. “What can I get you, sir?” the bartender asked.

  “I’ll have a shot of Brandy. In fact, make it a double. And get my friend here whatever he’s drinking.”

  “Hennessy,” Whitehead replied.

  “Coming right up,” the woman said before walking off.

  The Commissioner looked back at his detective and said, “It’s the wife, huh?”

  “We’re getting a divorce,” Whitehead blurted.

  The commissioner exhaled. “Women… They just don’t understand the stress of this job. If it’s worth anything, I have something that might cheer you up,” he said, going into his pocket, pulling out an envelope, and then handing it to him.

  “What’s this?” Whitehead asked as the bartender returned with their alcohol.

  “It’s a promotion,” the commissioner said, paying the tab. “A few days ago, a guy named Stanley Robinson was appointed head of an anti-drug committee. Turns out that after the case with Rabeeto Mendez, the FBI checked your file when you were on our task force and had it sent to the DEA. They want you to be a part of this special program they have. It’s a task force that they’re pulling together in Miami. If all goes well, this could be big.”

  “That sounds good, but m
y life is here in Philadelphia,” the detective said.

  “Look. You won’t have to pay for anything. You can stay in a five-star hotel if you want. And did I mention you’ll be getting paid triple what you’re getting now? I tell you what. Think it over because, believe me, there’s eight hundred men out there that wish they were in your shoes right about now. And to be honest, I’m one of them.”

  “Damn, baby, you been chillin’ out here with ya boy all morning,” Tommy Gun stated. “You must want something.”

  “No, I just want you, boy, so don’t even go there,” Beauty replied, wrapping her arms around his neck to hug him.

  Most of the guys at the dice game had cleared out except for a few of his henchmen. Tommy Gun loved his hood and refused to abandon it, no matter how paid he was. His reputation was so heavy in ATL that he felt he didn’t need an army of bodyguards. His homeboys were tough enough. If Shug could do it, so could he.

  “Boo, I’m about to get something from the store. Do you want anything?” she asked.

  “Nah, I’m cool. Go ‘head and hurry up with that pretty ass of yours,” he replied, tapping her butt. “Oh, and before you go, I never got to tell you how proud I am of you for graduating. Your parents would have been proud as well.”

  Beauty beamed before turning to leave. He watched her sway her hips all the way across the street. Tommy then pulled out his cell phone to call Clyde.

  “What’s up, cuz?” Clyde answered.

  “Aye, shawty, you still comin’ down?” Tommy asked. “I’m throwing a big party at 112.”

  “Nah, I can’t make it. I have a few things I need to take care of, but Diamond is on her way down there. This could be good for her,” Clyde said.