by Don Bruns
‘I hadn’t figured there would be two of them. Both packing I’m sure.’
‘We grab one, the other can be a problem.’
‘We can’t bring uniforms in,’ Archer said. ‘Freak the whole place out.’
‘You take one, I’ll take the other one. A gun in their gut, we escort them out the door and—’
‘They use the outdoor crowd as cover and split. Or worse,’ Archer continued, ‘they use the crowd as hostages.’
‘We’re taking a big chance no matter how this plays out.’
They watched the girls step off the stage as the announcer asked for applause. ‘Hey-ohhhh.’
After a smattering of claps, he continued.
‘Gentlemen, please be generous with our new talent. They may not speak English very well, but then we don’t pay them for conversation, do we? As always, private rooms are available and the lounge is only twenty-five dollars, tips appreciated.’
‘Now it’s getting nasty,’ Levy said.
‘Let’s take him now.’ Archer turned his attention to the bar. ‘Houston seems to have vacated his seat, maybe for a restroom break.’
‘You walk up like you’re ordering a drink, I’ll put the gun in his gut and you show your support. If Houston comes back, he’s yours. Does that work?’
‘Let’s hope and pray,’ Archer said.
He stood up from the velvet swivel chair and casually walked up to the bar. No one paid any attention to him.
‘What do you need?’ the lady behind the bar asked.
‘Dixie beer,’ he answered. He glanced at the door as two muscular black men walked in, pausing for a moment to scope the club, then their eyes rested on the man with the scar on his face.
‘Hey, Dushane White. What it is, brother?’ The bald man yelled over the music, Lil Wayne doing ‘Lollipop’. She lick me like a lollipop, she lick me like a lollipop, she lick me … over and over again.
Out of the corner of his eye Archer saw Levy approaching, hand under his jacket, ready to draw the Glock. And the two new guys just kept coming.
White tensed, glanced toward the rear of the club as if anticipating something or someone.
‘Easy, big man,’ one of the men said. ‘We just want to—’
‘End this shit,’ the other one finished the sentence.
They were now in close proximity and the music, while still thumping repetitively, was more background.
‘Fuck this shit about percentages, Dushane.’
The man drew a Smith and Wesson 9mm and keeping it close to his chest he aimed it at White. Archer between the two of them, just asking for a beer.
He took the beer, glancing at Levy and giving him a brief nod, then swung the bottle around, hitting the gunman hard in the face. The tall man staggered a step back, surprised at the action, his free hand up stroking his bruised jaw. Archer reached for the pistol, yanking it from his grip and striking him again in the face as the gunman fell to the ground.
Now in control of the 9mm pistol, he swung around and shoved it into Dushane White’s stomach.
‘Seat of our pants, Levy,’ he said. ‘You’re under arrest, Dushane White, for the murder of Trevor Parent.’
Levy pulled his Glock, training it on the man who was still standing, warily watching the bald man on the floor as Delroy Houston came barreling out of the restroom in the back of Woody’s, his gun in his hand.
Archer saw him coming, and briefly debated whether to just pull the trigger and damn the consequences. Couldn’t do it.
Girls were screaming, running out the front door, charging into the dressing room. Two men jumped up from their seats, dumping the young ladies in their lap to the floor. The crowd surged for the doorway, people going down and several being trampled. When the man standing pulled a gun from his jacket pocket, Delroy Houston fired his Sig Sauer, the explosion rocketing through the room. That’s when dozens of men and girls came pouring out of the private rooms and down the stairs, some pulling up their pants as they hobbled to the exit, girls running into the street completely naked.
Confusion reigned as the mob became a mad crush, exiting the club being their only purpose and the man who remained standing still held a gun in his limp right hand, blood running down his arm from where Houston’s bullet had gone through his shoulder.
Archer kept the 9mm in White’s stomach, determined not to lose him this time. Levy held his gun steady on the two newcomers as sirens outside cut through the noise and confusion and four uniformed officers pushed their way inside, guns drawn. Dushane White put his hands in the air. The bald man on the floor, grabbed a stool and lifted himself up.
‘You wanna kill me, Gangsta Boy?’ White glared at the young man. ‘You best stand in line. You may have taken out a couple of our boys in the garage, but you got a long way to go before you get me. See this scar? Messed up my face for a long time. But the other guy, pushin’ up daisies, my man.’
Levy disarmed the other man, Leon Jefferson, according to his driver license. And as they handcuffed and shepherded the men to patrol cars it became very apparent that White’s partner, Delroy Houston, had disappeared. As crazy as things got, Archer was surprised they were as successful as they had been. They’d get Houston. It was a matter of time.
Picking up his cell phone he dialed a number. A girl’s voice simply said, ‘Leave a message.’
‘Brooke, this is Detective Quentin Archer. You wanted a story. I’ve got a story for you.’
The Cadillac picked the two of them up three blocks from the club. Houston had the gun burrowed into the small of her back.
‘One funny move, Lexy, and I’ll blow a hole right through that sexy body of yours, do you understand?’
She nodded as he pushed her into the back seat. Dressed in her gray sweats, her hair tied back in a ponytail she looked nothing like the stripper named Sexy Lexy.
‘Drive up Magazine Street and drop me,’ Houston said.
The driver headed up Canal and then right on Magazine.
‘Right here,’ Houston said. ‘We’ll be fine.’
He shoved her from the car, and they walked a few short blocks to Crescent Employment. He had her cell phone in his pocket and was totally in control of the moment.
‘Friend of mine does business here,’ he said. ‘This hour of the morning he won’t be doin’ business and we need a place to hang. Maybe I’ll tap a little of this while we wait. What do you think?’ He patted her rear.
‘I’ve got teeth down there. I think I’d probably bite it off.’
He laughed, a throaty chuckle. ‘You might just like it, you know. Strange fruit and all that.’
‘You know they’re going to find you.’
‘You’d be surprised,’ he said as he stuck a key in the lock. Opening the door he escorted her in with a push. ‘People can hide in this town, no one finds ’em. True enough.’
‘They found you tonight. And your scar-faced friend.’
‘We were stupid.’
‘Yes, you were.’
He smiled, then hit her across the face with the barrel of his gun, tearing skin and bringing tears to her eyes.
‘I can say that, you can’t. Now you settle down because ain’t no man wants a lap dance from a hooker with a fucked-up face. You understand?’
She nodded.
They walked up the stairs and sat in a small lounge off Blount’s office. He got her tissues to wipe up the blood. It hadn’t been sixty seconds, the big man with his arm around her neck when they heard someone opening the door downstairs.
‘The fuck?’ Houston lifted his arm and stood up. ‘You stay put, bitch. You move one inch, I will fill your ass with lead.’
Walking to the head of the stairs he peered down in the dim light. Two in the morning, what are the chances that Blount decides to work?
‘Adrien, I’m clearing out tonight. Shit, the bus got busted. Woody’s was a rout. Listen to me, man, it’s over.’
Blount’s voice on his cell phone.
‘No, n
o, I’m not fucking covering for you. They found powder in the bus. How are you and your lovely wife going to explain that? And nobody is going to tie me to that. Nobody.’
He was coming up the stairs. Houston took a couple steps back.
‘Hey, the two gangs? They are expendable. I’m letting both of them take the fall. Me, I just load a couple of boxes and move on down the road. These other guys, let them rot in hell.’
Another moment of silence.
‘You don’t want to fuck with me, Adrien. Anything I’ve done under the table has been in cash. No record. I can be out of here in an hour and set up shop in another town, another country. Leave me alone and I won’t make trouble for you. But I can’t deal with your misfortune.’
As he crested the top of the stairs, Houston reached out and grabbed the cell phone from his hand. Blount stood frozen, not believing what he saw, the tall powerful black man with a gun in one hand, a cell phone in the other.
‘Adrien,’ he used his most menacing voice, ‘this is Delroy Houston. One of the gang members that is expendable. One of the bangers who will rot in hell. I always wanted to meet you, the man behind the curtain. Listen, I’m going to take care of weasel dick here, but I want some assurances from you.’
Blount spun around poised to run down the stairs as Houston wrapped his thick right arm around the fat man’s throat.
‘I’ve got the mother in a chokehold. I’m holding a gun. He’s going nowhere. Now listen, mothahfuckah, here’s what I need from you.’
FORTY-THREE
‘Nasta Mafia drew first, Q. The kid, William Washington, was going to shoot Dushane. We didn’t make a single move before that. Would have been disastrous. These two guys got in the way. And if you hadn’t taken him out with the beer bottle, it could have been a lot of people getting shot. It’s all going in my report.’
‘No one was killed, Levy. Some injuries, a couple serious, but we are blessed, my friend. And we got White.’
‘Seriously, maybe we were blessed. Not a mark on us.’
Archer nodded. ‘It could have been … should have been a lot worse.’
She was on the sidewalk, just outside the circle where a crowd had gathered hoping to see inside the strip club. There was nothing left to see.
‘Quentin, you survived.’ She sounded almost surprised.
‘Where did you come from?’
‘I had a feeling.’ She shivered inside her jacket. ‘I know … you don’t want to hear that. It was as if I had an Egun experience. Where the soul of an ancestor went in and protected you. I’m so happy you and Detective Levy are safe.’
‘Did you save my life again?’ Levy looked down at her, smiling. ‘If you were responsible …’
‘I’m never sure, Detective. But I think there is one more life to save.’
‘We’ve got Dushane White. We’ve got two members of Nasta Mafia. Whose life do we need to save?’ Archer asked.
‘I followed two people on my Honda,’ she said, motioning to the motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. ‘They escaped from the club. One was running from you out the front door, and one I believe was running back to you. All I know is that they ended up together, probably not a good mix. I know where they are.’
‘Who?’
‘The gangbanger who goes by the name of Houston and the blonde.’
‘Shit.’
‘Detective Archer, I seriously believe she is in a lot of trouble. You need to come with me.’
Archer motioned to a squad car.
‘We can take that. How far away are they?’
‘Ten minutes, tops. Assuming they’re still there. I have the address.’
Archer gave it to the uniform and slid into the passenger seat as Solange stepped into the back.
‘Levy, you handle it here.’
‘Careful, Archer. I’ll call for backup.’
‘Let’s go.’
‘What’s the game plan, Detective?’ the uniformed officer asked. ‘Maybe we should wait for reinforcements.’
‘Seat of our pants, Officer. I think there’s a girl who might be in a lot of trouble and I don’t want anyone dying tonight.’
Alexia sat next to the fat man on the leather couch, packing tape wrapped around their hands and legs.
‘I’ve made some calls. They’ve secured the tour bus, Blount. Crime scene tape on all the doors. But, the school bus that brought the girls from Ecuador,’ he said, ‘that’s clean. They haven’t figured that one out yet. So, we’ve got a driver who is headed south. He picks the three of us up in ten minutes. Your friend Mr LeJeune, he puts two hundred fifty thousand in a suitcase for me, and we’re off to the races.’
‘Where are we going?’
Houston flipped a quarter, catching it and studying the results.
‘Me, I’ll decide when I get there. Always wanted to visit Guadalajara, Mexico. Mariachi bands, tequila and lots of coño. I hear a pimp can do very well in Guadalajara. You? I may just decide to kill you. Or you two just might end up in Ecuador. I would think that Manuel would be happy to see you. You who kind of screwed this whole business up.’
‘And how did I do that?’
‘Easy-peasy, Blount. All you had to do was turn it all over to us. Instead you couldn’t divorce Nasta Mafia. Your downfall, my friend. The downfall of Adrien and the senator as well. Man what a story that’s gonna be.’
‘You really think you’re going to jump off a bus and disappear? My guess is that Dushane White is going to rat you out to save his skin. I think that every boy in your gang is going to lay blame squarely on you for the thrill kills. They’re your boys, Delroy. They do what you tell them to do. Once the cops get a taste of what you’ve done …’
‘I’ve got a stash, I’ve got two hundred fifty Gs from our friend Adrien and his lovely wife. I’m gonna disappear and do just fine, Blount. It’s you who needs to worry.’
Blount shook his head, smiling.
‘It’s all cash, Delroy. You know that. There’s no evidence, no proof that I had anything to do with …’
‘I kept a diary, Blount. A little black book. Every ounce of powder, every girl who came into New Orleans is in that book. If we put out-of-work mammas to work in the fields, or in a seafood plant, if we had to oversee the workforce, I documented it. If you gave me twenty workers for maid service, or workin’ in the bowels of some restaurant, I wrote it down. Put your name down on every transaction, asshole. Every stripper and every hand-job artist in the massage parlors, Hundreds of drug shipments, several thousand placements. People you pimped out for Manny, for the LeJeunes and who knows who else.’
Alexia spoke up. ‘You’re seriously telling me that Senator LeJeune is a part of the trafficking problem in New Orleans?’
‘Oh,’ Delroy said sarcastically, ‘you are so perceptive. Part of? I’d say the senator and her husband are the problem. Probably a lot of other places too, Lexy. Lots of money to be made, right, Case? You just can’t trust anyone, can you?’
He heard the knock at the door downstairs.
‘The bus is here. I could finish you both right now, but I like having some human shields. It’s been a rough night. I’m going to cut your legs free, you’re going to walk down the stairs and get on that bus. No problem. Do you understand?’
They nodded as he sliced the tape with a box-cutter.
‘Hands stay taped.’
He ushered them down the stairs and opened the door. The driver, a swarthy Latin American, glanced at his passengers and shook his head. He’d apparently transported a lot of passengers under duress.
He walked them to a Bluebird 71 yellow school bus, St Anne School Of Divinity stenciled on the side. The vehicle was parked streetside half a block up. Houston kept his gun trained on them as the two boarded the bus.
‘You’re going back to Ecuador, am I right?’
The driver nodded.
‘I’ll probably be getting off somewhere in Mexico, maybe before that. The two inside, no passports, so we’ll probably dispose of t
hem before you drive into Mexico.’
‘Sir,’ a thick Spanish accent, ‘I am getting mixed signals. I have a suitcase for you from Senior LeJeune.’
‘Perfect.’ The man had followed the plan.
‘And orders to drive you wherever you want to go.’
‘Even better. We should leave now.’
‘But I have recently received other orders.’
Archer rounded the rear of the bus, his gun trained on Houston.
‘Shit.’
Pointing his Sig Sauer, Houston fired and grabbed the bus door, ducking behind the metal and glass.
Archer hit the ground, a bullet passing through his left thigh.
‘Come on out, Delroy. I’ve got backup here in two minutes.’
‘I can be gone in two minutes.’
He’d never been shot and the wound stung. He tried to stand, but the leg wouldn’t support him.
‘Throw your gun out and come out with your hands in the air.’
‘Fucking cops. You’ll shoot me.’
‘No.’
‘You’re down, man. You throw your gun away, I’ll have the driver take us away and we’re good.’
Houston stepped out from behind the door, his pistol pointed at Archer, who was laying on the ground. He took one more step, his right foot catching in a break in the pavement. Lurching forward he pulled the trigger for the third time that evening and Archer fired from the ground. The bullet caught Delroy Houston in the chest. The man went down where he stood, the gun clattering onto the street.
‘Solange, I asked you to stay with the bike.’
The young black girl stood over him. ‘He tripped on the sidewalk. Thank God he tripped. We walk on the bones of our ancestors, Quentin. Often they look out for us.’ She knelt down, putting his hand in hers. ‘In this case, I think someone’s ancestor was looking out for you. And maybe for the blonde girl.’
FORTY-FOUR
The headline was bold.
Senator Marcia LeJeune Blindsided by Husband’s Business
Archer read the story. The tale of an unfortunate woman who championed the fight against human trafficking only to find that her husband’s business thrived on the very same trafficking. And thrived on the smuggling of drugs.