Donnie, still sitting in the backseat of the car, pointed at the truck cruising past the gas station. The driver of the truck hit his lights twice, then started to speed up. The car shot out of the gas station and began to follow the truck, unaware of the car already following the truck behind them.
Donnie leaned over the front seat. "Pass him, Van, so we can lead the way." The driver pressed down on the gas and Donnie waved out the window as they passed. The driver of the truck raised his hand to acknowledge the motion.
It took less than twenty minutes for them to leave the west side and reach the north end of the city. They pulled up in a garbage-littered alley, the lights of the lead car picking up rats of every size and description.
Donnie's driver laughed as he turned into the backyard. The fence had been removed so that cars and trucks could easily reach the house. The yard was barren of grass; it had been cleared out so that cars could drive in without any problems. On one side, boards and other rubbish had been stacked up out of the way. Further back, there were traces of where a barn used to be.
Van parked the car on the side, leaving enough room for the truck to back up to the rear door of the small frame house. The men in the car climbed out and waited until the truck driver managed to back in.
Danny jumped out of the truck grinning. "Goddamn, man, we never would have found this joint out here in the sticks."
Donnie returned the smile, but only with his lips. His grayish eyes glittered with anger. He still couldn't get over the idea of Prince sending Danny along. He needed men who would help carry the goddamn huge whiskey still inside the house, and he knew from past experience that all Danny would do would be stand around and play with his pistol as though he were Al Capone.
Donnie gritted his teeth and turned to the other men. "Okay, guys, the quicker we get the damn thing in, the sooner we can go home." His voice was mild, but he always got the results he wanted. Men liked to work for him because he would always work beside them. He never stood around and just watched.
The men opened up the back door of the truck. The huge cooker stood just inside the door. It was an old oil container, the type that can be seen in people's backyards or sitting behind farmhouses in the country. The only difference was that this one had been cut open, copper soldered around in the inside, then welded back together. Four of the men tried to lift it, but they just grunted under the weight.
Donnie walked up on the porch and spoke to the boy standing in the open doorway. "Bobbie, we goin' need all the help we can get. Is there anybody else in the house besides you and your woman?"
Bobbie, short and thin, shook his head. "My old lady ain't even here." He pushed open the door and came out. "We better prop the door open with something so we can carry that thing all the way in with out stopping."
He jumped up on the truck while Donnie searched the yard for something to hold open the screen door. "Goddamn," Bobbie exclaimed. "I don't know if I want to try cookin' with this big bastard or not. If it should blow up, man, it'll take the whole fuckin' house with it."
"Don't worry about it," Donnie replied as he put a brick against the door. "As long as you watch it the same as you did the smaller one, it ain't goin' be no trouble. If you go to fuckin' around and don't take care of business, you might just end up gettin' blowed all the way to hell."
"I don't think he got nothing to worry about," Van yelled, leaning against the whiskey still, "'cause I don't think we goin' be able to get this big sonofabitch in the house."
"I guess ya'll won't get the motherfucker in the house," Danny said, sitting down on the porch, "if all you goin' do is beat your gums about it."
Donnie just rolled his eyes at Danny as he climbed up in the truck with the other men. "Van, you help me with the back of this thing, man. The rest of you try and pick up the front."
Bobbie and the other two men moved to the front of the oil container. "Why don't we push it to the edge of the truck, Donnie, then we can get under it and carry it the rest of the way in the house?" Bobbie asked.
The men pushed and pulled until they got it moving, then three of them jumped off and waited until Donnie and Van got their end to the edge. Danny sat on the porch smoking. He grinned coldly as the men managed to get the still up and start for the porch, then stepped back as they made their way up the steps. They got as far as the door, then stopped. The still was too large to go in the door.
"The fuckin' thing is too big, man. It ain't about to go through that goddamn door," Bobbie yelled.
"Well I'll be a sonofabitch," Danny said sarcastically. "That's what I call being really bright. Here I am out here freezing my motherfuckin' ass off, and ya come up with some shit like this."
The men just gazed at the doorway as though looking at it long enough would make it wider.
Donnie glanced around at the nearby houses. "You guys keep your voices down. We ain't got no license to make whiskey, so just be cool." He stared up at the stars. It was still dark, but a tinge of light was beginning to break through. "We got to figure out some way to get it through that doorway before daylight." He glanced at his watch. "We still got a few hours, if we work fast. The squares that live around here won't be gettin' up before five-thirty or six, so let's get busy."
"Man, it's getting cold as hell out here," Danny complained, tightening his overcoat collar around his neck.
"Try doing some work, then," Donnie snapped, then spoke to the other men. "All we got to do is take the door frame loose. It should be wide enough then."
Suddenly a spotlight covered the porch. A loud voice ordered them to stand still. "Don't move," the voice continued. "We got the place surrounded."
Before anyone could reply, Danny made his move. Donnie had started to raise his arms to surrender when gunshots exploded next to him. He glanced around stupefied. "You dumb bastard," he began, but something heavy struck him in the chest. He could feel himself falling from the porch as the night exploded in gunshots.
Danny leaped from the porch, his gun spitting fire. He took two steps towards the alley, then fell as bullets struck him from every side. The other men on the porch were caught in the crossfire. Two of them had guns, but it was useless. When the firing stopped, they were stretched out on the ground.
Donnie managed to climb onto his elbow. He could hear the sound of the policemen inside the house swinging their axes, destroying the barrels of whiskey mash. As his arm slipped from under him, he wondered idly what the noise meant. When the first policeman reached him, he had already left the world of fear and doubt. No more would he have to worry about the rent or whether he would be lucky enough to escape from the quicksand of his everyday life.
21
PRINCE SAT AT ONE of the front tables by the dance floor inside the Roost. The clubhouse was crowded and swinging. People pushed and shoved to get near his table, and he smiled benevolently at his admirers. Everything was going as he had hoped. His only concern now was what was holding up Fatdaddy and Brute. He glanced at his diamond-studded watch. It was getting close to four o'clock in the morning and again he wondered if he had made a mistake in moving against the highly organized trucking company.
Through the din in the club there came a loud thump on the door as if a drunk had fallen against it; then it was repeated. Some of the crowd stood poised, ready to run if it was a bust. Before anyone could move, the sound of a car peeling rubber as it left the curb was heard over the roar of the record player.
One of the doormen glanced out to make sure it wasn't a raid, then the other removed the bars from across the door. As soon as the door was opened, the bodies of Fatdaddy and Brute came falling into the clubhouse. A few mild screams were heard before the girls' companions could hush them up. Prince pushed his way through the milling crowd and stared down at the corpses of his two lieutenants.
"It looks like somebody beat them to death," Preacher said from beside him. There was no emotion in his voice; it was as though he were watching a movie on the late show.
Pri
nce stared in shock at the men at his feet. "You three," Prince said, pointing his finger at three men standing near. "Take these bodies out the back way and drop them off. I don't give a damn where, just make sure they ain't found near here." He swept the crowd with his cold stare. "I want the rest of you to stay right here and keep on jamming as if nothing has happened. Sometime this morning you will get a phone call from me, and then you will go right into action without delay."
He stepped back to allow the boys to pass with the bodies. "Preacher, you come on with me and Ruby. We got a lot to handle before this day gets any older." He turned on his heel and walked out the door, followed by Preacher.
They stood on the sidewalk feeling the morning wind blowing in off the river. "What the fuck is holding that bitch...." Prince was cut off by the roar of a powerful motor starting up. With the true street fighter's instinct, Prince jumped back down the cellar steps, while Preacher, caught off guard slightly, moved towards his car catlike. He dropped down and tried to roll under the car as a blast from a submachine gun awakened the neighborhood. Bullets ricocheted off the wall at the spot where Prince had been standing. As both men got to their feet, the dying sounds of the fleeing automobile could still be heard in the distance.
The cellar door opened and frightened faces peeped out. "What's happening out there?" someone yelled.
"Just close the goddamn door and keep on partying," Prince commanded. "It was just some friends lettin' me know they had me on their mind," he added, as Ruby ran up the steps.
As Preacher opened the car door, Prince took Ruby's arm and steered her inside. "No questions now!" he ordered.
Preacher started up the motor. He was a little shaken but no worse from the incident. He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "Looks like someone is playing for keeps," he said over his shoulder.
"Don't let it worry you," Prince replied from the backseat. "I know just who the sonsofbitches happen to be."
"You do, huh?" Preacher asked, surprised.
Prince's eyes flickered with rage as he leaned on the back of the front seat to answer. "You better damn well bet I do, and before this day is over they'll wish like hell they never heard of my name." Even as he made the boast, a small voice seemed to warn him to back up, that things were getting out of hand, but he paid no heed.
Ruby spoke up. "I wasn't able to reach Danny or Donnie, Prince, but I got in touch with Hawk and Bossgame. They're both on their way, daddy."
He nodded and sat back against the cushions, his mind racing. If things continued as they were, he would soon be out of lieutenants, he thought coldly. Taking control of the city was getting to be expensive.
Preacher drove slowly down the side streets. By the time they reached the apartment, Hawk and Bossgame were just getting out of their car. They stopped on the sidewalk when they saw the Cadillac pull up, but Prince waved for them to go on in. The three occupants of the Cadillac glanced up and down the street nervously before getting out of the car and running into the building.
Bossgame stood inside the building waiting for Prince. He asked, surprised, "What's the matter, baby, the police chasing you or something?"
"I'll run it down to you after we get upstairs," Prince replied as he brushed past him and continued up the stairway.
After they were settled down in the apartment, Prince began. "There's no reason for me to try and hide the truth. I'll bring it right out in the open so everybody will know where we stand. The Mafia are behind the killings of Fatdaddy and Brute. Nobody else, just them."
"Just them!" Bossgame exclaimed. "Damn, that's too damn much right there! That outfit's too damn big for us to buck, Prince, we might as well face that right now!"
Prince glanced around at his top men. All he could see on their faces was agreement with what Bossgame had said. "What about you, Ruby, you feel the same way?"
Ruby glared around the room at Prince's lieutenants. There was nothing but contempt in her eyes. "I don't sleep with Bossgame and the rest of these so-called soul brothers, daddy," she replied drily. "Whatever you think is best, honey, you know I'll go along with it."
Prince's mouth twisted into a harsh smile. "Well, since I've got support from the thoroughbred in our organization, I do believe I'll play this thing the way I feel. First of all, I'd like to pull your coats to something I've always believed. The Mafia ain't shit in the ghettos, and I'll tell you why. If they come down here fuckin' around, we'll know them as soon as we see them. Ain't no 'woods coming around asking for no information without us knowing about it, so all we got to do is stay in our black neighborhoods and wait. If they try and hire some mean brothers to do the job, they'll have to hire an army, 'cause that's just about what we got." Prince stopped to let his words sink in.
In the silence Ruby spoke up. "Even if they try and hire some brothers to do the work, they'd have to go out of town to get them, 'cause ain't no niggers in their right mind here in this city goin' try and step on our toes."
Prince could see that their words were having an effect on his men. "Preacher," he said suddenly, "I want you to have all your boys down in front of that warehouse in the morning before the first truck rolls in." He pointed his finger like a gun. "Bossgame, you and Hawk see to it that every gang we have at our disposal is down there too, and don't accept no excuses. Tell them I ain't having no shit about this, I want every goddamn one of them there. I want at least five hundred boys and girls milling around there when those trucks start pulling in. I want you to pass out the order that not one of those trucks is able to pull off after you're through with them without the aid of a tow truck. Is that clear and understood?"
He waited until his men nodded in agreement. "I don't want not even one to be able to drive away from there without the help of another truck! Then we'll see how the Mafia likes it." He stared at his men, driving his words at them so they could feel his confidence. "I don't believe that the Mafia, or anyone else for that matter, besides the police, can muster enough men to stop us if we stick together."
The men started to talk among themselves. With the aid of the whiskey and reefer that Ruby passed out, their nerves were soon built up to such a point that they believed nothing could go wrong. It seemed foolproof, now that Prince had shown them how it could be handled. As they left, they were joking among themselves about how the Mafia took it in the hip, or under the arm. They went out into the streets, full of confidence, and did their work well.
When dawn broke over the city, the first out-of-state trucks to enter the waterfront section were stopped two blocks from their destination. The drivers were removed forcibly from the cabs and the trucks completely wrecked. As the driver of the first truck fell into the milling crowd, he was kicked and stomped. In one hour, over forty trucks were stopped and their drivers beaten. The police arrived on the scene, but the first two cars to show up were given the same treatment as the truck drivers. As soon as the police swarmed over one area, the crowd moved to another block and continued to fight.
Ruby, from a vantage point away from the fighting, made a quick phone call to the Black Cougar headquarters and told them that blacks were being beaten up all over the waterfront. The Cougars rushed men to the spot to help out their brothers, and soon they were committed to the battle because the police never changed their strategy. Their operation was simple: if it had a black head on its shoulders, try to knock it off.
What had started out as a gang war had now turned into a rioting mob. Scores of teenagers broke into the neighborhood's warehouse and fought their way through the yards. "Loot" had become the password, and as the boys fought, the girls would disappear with the goods, taking to the alleys they knew so well.
Police began to arrive with dogs and riot guns. It took them a good hour to begin to restore order because, as soon as they broke up the fighting on one street, it moved to another. A state bus arrived, then another, as the police began rounding up the gang members. Even inside of the buses they kept fighting in the aisles until the police fired w
arning shots at the ceiling. As the loaded buses pulled away, bodies of truck drivers could be seen up and down the street.
Fire trucks moved back and forth trying to stop the fire blazes before they could spread. Ambulances pulled away one after the other carrying the dead and injured. Sometimes they carried police, more often teenagers or truck drivers.
Morales shook his head sadly. "They tell me that five truck drivers are dead, and before it's over they figure to find at least three more in the same condition."
Captain Mahoney nodded. "That's the same count I got."
Lieutenant Gazier came running up, out of breath. He waited a second until he could speak. "Well, I guess this about brings our case to an end. We picked up at least six different gang leaders, and before it's over, we'll probably have six more. With that many in the tank, somebody's got to start singing."
The captain nodded. "Yes, you're right about that. When one starts, they'll fall over each other trying to outtalk the next one." He stared around for a moment, then spoke to his two lieutenants. "I want a firstdegree murder warrant taken out on Prince, and each gang leader in our custody will be arraigned on the same charge. Find out just what gangs are locked up. If we don't have the leaders in custody, put out warrants for them, too."
Lieutenant Gazier grinned coldly. "All right, Captain. It looks like that punk has finally made a mistake he won't be able to wiggle out of, huh?"
"That's just about it," the captain answered harshly. "This is one jam five lawyers couldn't get him out of." There was a flash of bitterness in his voice. "Morales," he said, "each one of you better pick up another partner, that way you can cover more territory. I believe you two boys know more about these punks' hideouts than the rest of the department put together."
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