Velvet Mafia

by Lydia L Watts

  “Really!” Lauren said. “This should be interesting.”

  “It is, Lauren. It really is,” Teddy said. She took another sip of her coffee and continued. “Apparently, Santiago grew up on the southeast side, surrounded by violence. He was lucky in a sense because he was talented at a very young age, so the lure of gang involvement wasn’t as persuasive. It was like he didn’t want to join and the gangs didn’t want him either. But, one day when he was out, he saw several known gang members brutally assault one of his neighbors, so Santiago chose to testify.”

  “Oh, I know how this is going to end,” Lauren said, shifting in her seat. “They retaliated, didn’t they?”

  “Yeah, they did,” Teddy said. “They wanted to make an example of him. So they beat him, and then — get this — they poured acid in his face, causing him to be totally blind. Their message was simple: it is easy to die but it is hard to live maimed. They wanted him, as well as everybody who ever looked at him, to remember that it costs to be free.”

  “Damn!” Lauren replied. “I’m so tired of all this gang stuff. It’s everywhere. In fact, on the South Side, a Black man is an endangered species. He takes a risk just walking down the street.”

  “That’s an understatement,” Teddy said. “Black men and boys are an endangered species everywhere.”

  “So finish your story about Santiago. I can tell there’s more.”

  “Yes, there is and believe it or not, it’s an ending for the storybooks.”

  “So, stop editorializing already and tell me the rest of the story.”

  Teddy laughed. “You got some nerve. ‘Ummm, stop editorializing.’ You probably can’t even spell the word.”

  “Shut up, Teddy,” Lauren said, laughing too. “Tell the story, girl, before I come over there and knock you out.”

  “Okay! Anyway, before Santiago’s accident, he had been known as a local sketch artist; you know, the ones who do portraits and landscapes. Well, after his accident, his whole medium changed. He evolved into a blown glass sculptor.”

  “A blown glass sculptor!” Lauren said, with a look of confusion. “I thought you said he was blind. Doesn’t blown glass have to do with fire?”

  “Yeah, it does,” Teddy said, “and — get this — before his accident, he had never worked with the medium before and had no interest in it. When he was introduced at the art social, he was asked to tell his story. He said that when he was lying in his hospital bed, God came to him and said, ‘From this day forward, you will see the visions that I see when I look at you, my son, and the world will see these visions, too.’ He said his work is inspired by God. God gives him the images and the colors and he just follows his instructions. His work is called ‘Eyes of Remembrances: Visions of Restoration.’”

  “Ump! See how good God is!” Lauren jumped from her seat as if she had just been touched by the spirit. “Out of a gross tragedy and against all odds, this boy’s purpose grew out of the courage to do the right thing even when he didn’t have to.”

  Teddy could see the irony from Lauren’s perception, but she couldn’t help but wonder why Santiago had had to go through so much before he got God’s attention. “I see your point,” Teddy said. “Anyway, Lauren, there is more to the story, so sit down and rest your nerves, girl. Rest your nerves.”

  “Okay, okay,” Lauren said. “I get it. No more interruptions.”

  “You’re not interrupting, Lauren.” Teddy laughed. “I just want to get through the whole story and then get your impression.”

  Seeing that her directness hadn’t offended Lauren, Teddy continued where she had left off. “So, anyway, as a result of his work, Kennedy’s marketing and my mom’s influence, the Blind Artists Guild became the first recipient of the Devon Yancy Laurie Foundation Young Artist Endowment Award. It just so happened that Devon Yancy Laurie himself was at the event and he was so inspired by Santiago’s work and his story, he established the Devon Yancy Laurie Foundation Young Artist Endowment Award right then. And — get this, Lauren — Devon Laurie made a ten million dollar pledge for ten years. The largest artist award ever given to an urban artists’ association! Laurie even wrote the first check from his personal checkbook and presented it to Santiago and Kennedy on the spot. All Mr. Laurie could say was that he had been completely inspired. Needless to say, Santiago and Kennedy were the talk of the event.

  “After it was all over, my mother introduced me to Kennedy. I ended up giving her a ride home and there was an instant connection. It was as if we had entered into each other’s lives just at the right mo-ment in time. Kennedy was struggling with her relationship with her husband and she was lonely and I was trying to live life on life’s terms. After Isabella’s death, I had literally gone underground. I stopped working and was depressed for the first year and a half. I even moved back in with my parents for a while. It was more for them than it was for me, but in retrospect, I am glad that I did. Anyway, I digress.” For a brief moment, Lauren and Teddy again found some humor in what was mostly a somber conversation. And when the two old friends laughed, it was reminiscent of two childhood friends with a secret.

  Teddy finally continued. “By the time I left my parents, I was no longer depressed. Instead, all I could think about was revenge. All I wanted to do was find Isabella’s murderers and destroy them and to do so, I had to get out of DC. The memories were excruciating. Everywhere I went reminded me in some way of the life I had shared with Isabella, so I moved back to Chicago. Though I did keep my DC con-do. I let my Cousin Claire and some of her friends use it sometimes. You remember Claire, don’t you? But I’ve been here now on and off for the last six years.”

  “Six years?” Lauren said, somewhat agitated. “You have been here for six years and I’m just finding out about it?”

  “From the sounds of things, Lauren, neither you nor I were in the place we are in now, so the way I look at it, it was God’s time and not ours.”

  Despite being visibly upset, Lauren knew Teddy was right. Six years ago she had been a mess and even if she had known Teddy was right around the corner, she hadn’t had anything to offer. She’d been too busy trying to fix her life — an uphill battle.

  Finally, with a smile and a high five, Lauren simply said, “Touché, girl. Touché.” The old friends again started to laugh and for Teddy, it felt good. She hadn’t experienced prolonged happiness since Kennedy’s kidnapping and regardless of the circumstances, to laugh uninhibited was refreshing!

  “So, can I finish my story now?” Teddy said. “And without you interrupting me again?”

  “Okay,” Lauren said. “There will be no more interruptions from me.”

  “Good,” Teddy replied as she feigned exhaustion, “So, where was I?”

  Teddy collected her thoughts. There was really nothing funny about the story she was trying to tell except for the fact that two old friends were enjoying each other’s company.

  Finally, she told Lauren that after a while, she had started working again and it was while working on a series of high-profile murder cases, she realized the cases were all directly related to Isabella’s homicide.

  “So what made you so sure they were all connected?” Lauren said.

  “At first I wasn’t sure. In fact, I thought I was losing it. I had been away for some time and when I got back in, I thought I was ready. I had dealt with the grief of losing Isabella and felt I needed to move on.”

  “So what happened to make you think there was a connection?”

  “I began to notice that at every crime scene, someone would leave a piece of evidence that did not match the scene or the case, but instead, led me back to Isabella’s death. And each time the evidence was left, it was left in plain view for me to find.”

  “What did the other agents think when you told them?” Lauren asked.

  “That’s just it. I didn’t tell them because the evidence was so inconsequential to the original murder scene. But, to me, it was as if I were looking at the evidence through the eyes of a clairvoyant
.”

  “Wait a minute,” Lauren said. “I know you don’t believe in or have anything to do with psychics, right?”

  “No, I don’t, Lauren, and I don’t spend my time reading horoscopes or getting my palm read either. But the one thing I do know for sure is that I am good at what I do. And now I understand why. Like you said, God gives us talents and I believe that God has given me the gift of vision, the ability to understand and process what I see, as well as discernment. So, when I tell you I was looking at evidence through the eye of a seer, I was.”

  Rather than push even further, Lauren decided to acquiesce. The conversation regarding being a seer made her a little uncomfortable, so she had to remind herself this was Teddy’s story and to stay in her lane.

  As the morning wore on, Teddy decided to really tell Lauren everything — including about her extracurricular activities. She had never told anyone, including her parents, what she was doing to their family home and since they had sold it to her, they were not too interested anyway. The house had been built during the time when many included underground bunkers and shelters, so Teddy had decided to turn her bunker into a state-of-the art intelligence center. Her background and world contacts placed her in the position of accessing technology and other resources that most police departments, including those in major metropolitan areas, didn’t have.

  Teddy believed that sharing the bunker with Lauren would add to the protection God would provide her. If her friend needed to get away and hide, the bunker would be a safe house. It had all the amenities she would need and would house up to two people comfortably.

  “Lauren,” Teddy said seriously, “I want to show you something. You’re the only person who knows anything about this and I am showing you because if what I’m doing places you in harm’s way, I want to make sure you and your mother are safe.”

  “I told you I have God as my protector.”

  “Yes, I know,” Teddy replied, “but let’s be real; God gives us the tools we need to protect ourselves, too. What I’m offering is in concert with what God will do.”

  “Boy, you’re a quick study!” Lauren said. “Okay, show me what you want to show me.”

  “I will but first, this is what I want you to do. I don’t think my house is on anyone’s radar, but just in case it is, I have to be careful. So, when we go back in, we’ll refrain from talking about anything serious. Nothing but laughter and jokes.”

  “Well, that should be easy, especially since all we seem to do is laugh anyway.”

  “Will you stop playing and listen? This is serious.”

  “Okay, already,” Lauren said, realizing the conversation had turned from kidding to “I Spy.”

  “Once inside, I’ll head upstairs and start my packing while you prepare lunch. Did you bring enough food?”

  “I sure did. I was thinking about a southern fried chicken salad with all the trimmings.”

  “Sounds good,” Teddy said. “That should take you awhile to prepare. While you’re cooking, turn the stereo on. I have the newest Bang & Olufsen so the entire house is wired for sound. Once you do that, dance a little, sing a little; just make it seem as if you are in your own element. I’ll come down the back steps by the butler’s pantry. From there I’ll lead you to the bunker.”

  “So, why all the charades?”

  “It’s just a precaution, but I want you to get in the habit of making things appear normal, especially if you ever have a need to access the bunker.”

  “You know what?” Lauren said. “When this is all over you need to write a book. Every time you tell me something, I feel like I’m a character in a New York Times best seller.”

  “Very funny, Lauren, but this is serious.”

  “I’m serious, too,” she said. “You need to write a book and call it Velvet Mafia!”

  When they finally reached the basement, Teddy led Lauren through what seemed an elaborate maze on the three-minute trip from the basement to the bunker.

  Lauren was amazed at the craftsmanship and couldn’t figure out how all this had been done without anyone else knowing about it. The bunker — a leftover from a building on the property during prohibition days — sat directly under the garden. Everything Teddy had needed to equip the bunker had been delivered to a warehouse she’d bought under an assumed name. The warehouse sat right above one of the notorious underground Al Capone tunnels. And the tunnel led to the backyard of her home — another leftover of prohibition days. In fact, if Teddy’s bunker were ever breached, she could take the tunnel and come out at the end of a connecting tunnel, in Washington Park. Or if she had to shake someone following her, she could lead them into the park and vanish.

  It was obvious Teddy’s obsession with Isabella’s murder and her killers had made her a force to be reckoned with. And now Lauren understood why they wanted to kill her. She had information that was reliable, her theory was believable and based on what she had done with the bunker, if anyone could lead them to what they were after, it would be her.

  After returning from the bunker, Teddy and Lauren sat down to eat, silently for the most part, except for the music playing in the background. Lauren knew now that her friend was involved in something far beyond her comprehension. And all she wanted to do — all she could do — was keep her comforted in the fact that God loved her and would protect her. Lauren knew Teddy’s purpose in life was divine.

  Chapter 9

  THE NEXT DAY, Basil woke up rested and ready to do some work. Teddy had made some profound accusations and before he could commit to a partnership with her, he had to do a little digging of his own. He wanted to find out as much as he could about the Future Scientists of America program, especially who funded it. Projects like the FSA usually had private backers, and Basil wanted to know who those backers were. If Basil’s hunch was correct, the private backers would lead them to the real geniuses behind the conspiracy.

  For hours, Basil researched and studied material that now cluttered his entire office. According to his findings, once selected, the candidates were assigned to work side by side with some of the most renowned scientific minds in the world. In total, twelve students were selected for the program, including two who were given the most coveted project: the biological weapon deconstruction initiative.

  Everything he uncovered about the program indicated that for Lance and Isabella to have been selected for the program, they had to have been part of the intellectual elite, the brightest young scientists in the world. These kids hadn’t just been Rhodes Scholar material, but lethal weapons. All of them had IQs that were sealed and classified as top secret; to access their IQ scores required special clearance from the United States military.

  In fact, the FSA program was directly linked to the United States military, classified under another program called the Special Virus Initiative. It too was top secret. The deeper Basil delved, the more re-daction he encountered. Pages upon pages had been blacked out. But hidden in the pieces of information left behind was a link to the program’s research membership list. This included all the students, their assignments and the scientists who had participated in the program. Basil studied the list, knowing he needed to research the current whereabouts of each FSA student and scientist.

  With only a week before his trip, Basil was determined to find out everything he could about the Special Virus Initiative and its connection to the FSA program. So he started investigating the membership list and was shocked to find out that the first two of the senior scientists he located had died. Now he was curious about the rest. He also wanted to find out as much about Lance as he could, especially since the two of them would be working together.

  For the rest of the day and much of the evening, Basil researched, but found nothing more on the Special Virus Initiative. It was as though it didn’t exist. He knew it was a military project, and it funded the FSA, but other than that, nothing about the program existed online.

  Feeling a little defeated, Basil decided to again switch gears to maintain
his focus. Now he turned his attention once more to Lance and Isabella and the other members of the FSA scientific team. His curiosity had been piqued when he’d found out that two members of the team had died, but more than anything, how they died intrigued him: both had been poisoned and their cases were still unsolved.

  Basil pondered that information and remembered a conversation he’d had with Teddy. If his memory served him correctly, Teddy had told him that, over the last two decades, close to one hundred scientists, both US and foreign-born, had died suspiciously worldwide. Could there be a connection? He stood staring out his living room window, watching the waves from Lake Michigan pound everything within their reach. Before he could further examine his question, he was distracted by his ringing phone. With papers everywhere, all Basil could do was move in the direction of the sound and hope he reached it be-fore the phone went dead.

  “Hello,” Basil said anxiously.

  “Basil … I mean Dr. Rhodes … this is David … David Sumner, your exclusive cabdriver.”

  “Oh, yes, hello, David. How are you? And how did you get this number?”

  “I’m fine and getting your number was easy. You left your business card in the cab. It must have fallen out of your wallet when you gave me my tip. I hope you don’t mind me calling.”

  “No, of course not. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. I know this really cool outdoor restaurant that serves the best Moroccan food in the city. Like you, I don’t like eating alone, so I decided to take a chance and give you a call.”

  When Basil realized that he again hadn’t eaten all day, David’s invitation became very appealing. Plus, there was nothing about David’s aura that made Basil uncomfortable. David seemed like a man searching for his way in the world and Basil understood that. After all, he had spent his entire life working in the field of scientific research, had received the highest accolades a scientist could receive and believed his work and his opinions were respected in his field — only to find out that all this mattered only if he toed the “company line.” Like David, he was a man on the fringe. Everything he was — or had thought he was — had been destroyed and he too was trying to find his way.