“My boy, Caluzo doesn’t make long distance calls about bullshit,” Steve said defensively. “He doesn’t do ‘hi, how’s the weather,’ chitchat.”
James rubbed his palm across his jaw. “Cap was jumpy like a mother, man. That’s all I need to know. Think about it. If Caluzo called Sulli, then whatever went down involves people we were tied to during the cases.”
“Yeah,” Steve affirmed. “He said, quote, ‘It wasn’t us.’ Doesn’t that sound like plausible deniability on a hit?”
“Yep,” James said, blowing his breath out hard.
“Then who?” Laura asked, looking out toward the turquoise blue sea. “The only reason a guy like Steve’s contact would call is if it was a big enough fish to cause a serious tidal wave in a lot of people’s lives, meaning potential financial fallout.” She turned to hold Najira and Jamal with her gaze. “When your father first answered the telephone, ’Jira, how did he sound?”
“All right,” she said quietly. “What are you getting at?”
“He didn’t know anything about whatever this thing is Caluzo was referring to, or if I know your dad like I know him, he would have had that real strained sound to his voice when he’s sending a coded message. He wasn’t sending any tips to me, just being on-guard and cagey.”
“So, whatever just went down couldn’t have come from his peeps, is what you’re saying?” Jamal stared at Laura hard.
“I don’t think so, and there’s not too much he misses that goes down in the community.”
“True dat,” Jamal said, kicking at the sand. “Maybe I should make a few calls to my boys stateside to see if anything crazy jumped off in their world?”
“No,” James said, placing both hands on his head to stretch the tension out of his back. “I already messed up by calling Cap out of reflex. Any more calls stirring the pot will just turn the big eye in the sky toward us, if it hasn’t already started moving in that direction.”
Laura and Steve nodded in unison.
“It just kicks my ass that I don’t have a clue about what Caluzo was talking about,” Steve said, bending down and pitching a seashell. “I hate mobster parables!”
“See, this is why I wanted to go back to Philly for a few,” Jamal said, his voice sullen.
“I feel you,” Steve said. “I hate being out of the loop.”
“All right, people,” Laura said, folding her arms over her chest. “We need information. There is one call I can always make that never leaks.”
All eyes focused on her as she pushed a speed dial number.
“Rick.”
She quietly prayed that his cell wouldn’t roll over to voice mail and almost did a jig when Rick’s voice filled the receiver.
“Hey, lady,” he said in an upbeat tone. “How’s my favorite girl?”
“Being nosy, as usual.”
Rick laughed. “So life down in paradise hasn’t changed you a bit.”
“Not at all,” she said trying to keep the strain out of her voice. “Sooo ... what’s new?”
He laughed harder. “I thought you shut down Rainmakers, Inc., and had gone into retirement counting our millions on the beach.”
She forced a chuckle. “I have.”
“So, how’s married life treating you? Don’t tell me you’ve already gotten bored with the big lug you married—because if so, I might have to change my domestic condition and fly down there to sweep you off your feet.”
“No, and I missed you, too, hon,” she said, unable to keep the smile off her face. Even in the worst of times, Rick was a pure trip. “But, seriously, you know I like to always keep my finger on the pulse, so what gives?”
“Now, see, you’re in no position to return an information favor like old times,” he said, teasing her.
“Who said?” she joked back. “My resources are far and wide, you never know who I might know.”
“Hmmm ... then maybe you might want to help us all figure out who shoved half a utility closet up Howard Scott’s ass while he was doing his bid? He didn’t make it, but that’s off the record. Kid hemorrhaged to death in the laundry room, and we’re not releasing details for twenty-four more hours, but you didn’t hear that from me—and let me add that I have the drop on it, so don’t blow my lead story.”
Laura covered her mouth. “Oh my God!”
The group tightened their circle around her.
“Yeah, and shame, too, because his old man just got whacked—strangled with a telephone cord or wire, but, again, that’s gotta stay on the down low until the police make a media statement this afternoon. Now, once again, your turn, love of my life. Got any hunches, or you working any angles in this that might be interesting for a guy like me to know?”
“Not yet,” Laura said in a stunned murmur, “but if I do, you’ll be the first to know, as always.”
“Why do I let you always string me along?” He laughed at his own joke.
She couldn’t laugh, much less move her mouth to speak.
“I know you know something, or how else would you have the drop on crap going on here all the way down there? Stop teasing me.”
“I promise, the minute I have a lead, I’ll call you and only you.”
“Ahhhh ... exclusive rights. That’s my girl. I love a monogamous woman.”
Laura forced a soft chuckle. “I always play straight by you, Rick. You know that ... but just do me one more favor.”
“Name it,” he said in a cheery tone.
“Be careful on this one. I don’t think it’s local.”
“Duly noted,” he said, all the effervescence gone from his voice. “This is some serious shit, huh? A senator and his son. Very wild.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Very wild and very dangerous. Thanks for the heads-up. I owe ya.”
“As long as you owe me, I’ll never go broke,” he said, trying to regain his former upbeat responses.
“Yeah,” she said flatly. “Just watch your back.”
“OK. I can tell from the sound in your voice, you’re worried, and I don’t like that sound at all. Never heard you like that, Laura. Now I’m concerned. You all right? What are you into this time?”
She paused and ruffled her curls with her fingers, squinting as she peered past the group to the horizon. “That’s just the thing, Rick. Nothing.”
He sighed. “All right. Tell me anything. Just behave yourself and be careful.”
“You, too.”
“I love you, kiddo.”
“Me, too,” she said quietly.
Rick chuckled nervously. “He’s standing right there, staring down your throat.”
“Yep.”
“Oh, so it’s like that, now.” He laughed, but the sound was strained. “If the big guy is staring you down, then I am worried. Having an old man as an ex-cop doesn’t bode well during a call like this. If he’s in it—”
“Good-bye, Rick.”
“All right. Good-bye. Guess I should just be honored that you’re having information phone sex with me.”
She laughed and this time it wasn’t forced. “Get off the line, man.”
“Bye,” he said quickly, and hung up.
“Do I dare ask?” James said, shaking his head.
“No, but the call was revealing.”
“And?” Jamal said, turning his palms up to the blaring sun.
“Howard Scott, Jr., got waxed in prison,” she said slowly. “Went out so foul, I can’t even—”
“They probably did him old school,” Jamal said. “But you knew that was coming, given how he played everybody around the way.” Jamal shook his head and made a face. “The way he did Moon and them, sheeeit. I knew they was laying for him. That’s a no-brainer.”
“Somebody took out his father, too, Jamal,” Laura added carefully. “That wasn’t a homeboy hit. Telephone cord or a wire.”
“Geez Louise,” Steve said raking his hair back with his fingers. “No wonder Mikey called me, because that’s old Sicilian signature, if ever I heard it.”
“But, if we were worried that the senator would send somebody to come for us, doesn’t that sorta take that off our backs?” Najira’s gaze darted around the group. “I never, ever, wished anything like that on him or his son, but it just seems like to me that we’re in the clear, then.”
James shook his head. “Uh, uh. No. I still don’t like it.”
“I’m feeling my partner on this,” Steve said. “Homeboys in prison can get to anybody any time, but a guard paid off to look the other way ... hey, how do we really know who did Junior?”
“Why do we care?” Najira said, becoming frantic. “That’s not our business!”
“Just like homeboys don’t do the wire thing, generally,” James said, ignoring Najira’s outburst.
“And a senatorial hit ain’t light fare in these days and times,” Steve added. “Not to mention, me and Mike Caluzo are cool and all, but I’m not his priest. Why would he feel it necessary to tell me it wasn’t his people, ya know? He’s been an enforcer a long time, has done however many jobs that I never wanna know about—so why the big confessional thing now?”
“Because he’s your friend,” Laura said calmly, her tone so serene that it made the group go still. “And friends give friends the heads-up when something really foul is about to go down ... just so they’ll die knowing it wasn’t an internal betrayal and their friends weren’t involved.”
“Old Sicilian code,” Steve said quietly, gathering Najira in his arms.
“Sho’ you right,” James said, and then glanced at Najira. “Now you see why it is our business?”
“Part one and two of the job is done,” a man with a thick Russian accent said into his cell phone.
A black sedan rolled up next to his in the Washington, D.C., parking lot. The darkened back window rolled down by a crack and an envelope was pushed through it. He reached out and accepted the manila folder.
“Everything you need for the rest of the job is in there,” a quiet male voice said. “Make it happen. Your wire transfer is complete, check your account.”
Both sets of car windows rolled back up. Both cars leisurely drove away in opposite directions.
“Mrs. Melville,” Laura said as calmly as possible into the phone while James drove their Jeep back toward the house, “I’m giving you and your husband a few weeks off with pay... . Uhmmm, James and I just need a little bit more honeymooning time alone in the house, you understand.”
“Oh, my, yes, I do,” Mrs. Melville said with a conspiratorial laugh. “I remember being your age, once. But don’t you need me to at least cook, or what about laundry and such things as keeping the place tidy for you, my dear?”
“I’ll manage,” Laura said, closing her eyes, hating to have to lie to the sweet older woman who had become her right hand. “I’m trying to show my husband that even though I have fantastic help, I can be a bit domestic. I promise not to make too much of a mess during this experiment.”
Mrs. Melville chuckled and clucked her tongue softly. “You’re sure? And you know, if you need anything, we’re at your disposal.”
“Yes, and bless you,” Laura said quietly. “But this is best for now.”
“All right, dear heart. You call if you need us.”
“Will do. Bye.”
Laura terminated the cell-phone call and slumped in the seat. “This is worse than before, James. I thought we’d put all this crap behind us. I hated having to lie to that dear old woman.”
“It’s best this way, baby,” he said, turning into their driveway. “That’s all we’d need is for her or her husband to be in there if something crazy jumps off. This way, we can sleep at night.”
“Yeah, but not in our own home.” Laura leaned forward and stared at him for a moment.
“I hear you. A hotel room?”
She closed her eyes and ran her palms down her face. “Yeah, maybe. I don’t know. Maybe we leave Grand Cayman and go smaller, like Cayman Brac—”
“Smaller means even less security, whatever that is anywhere in the world, these days,” James countered.
“All right, how about if we go to a larger island, or maybe—”
“Laura, face it. If someone is hunting us, or simply cleaning up any of the trail from all that Philly madness, then it’s only a matter of time before they find us. We have to get to the root of it, figure out why we’re in it, what they’re searching for—since we can rule out family vengeance at this point, I think.”
“Ahkan is on his way ... what are we gonna tell that man, James?”
“The truth,” James said flatly. “Start there. We all get our stuff, quietly check into one of the resorts, and then all sit down and put our heads together. Maybe once he gets here, he might have a take on this, since he was also close to Haines and might know what other bull Haines was into, or who might be sending a clean-up squad. Bottom line is we can’t run forever. At this rate, we might as well go back to Philly.”
Chapter 4
A khan took his time moving through the house. These were some strange times. “Ashé,” he murmured, acknowledging the ancestors as he gathered up a few essentials and stuffed them in a knapsack. He kept away from the barred windows while going to the one black telephone he owned with a rotary dial. The call was efficient like the universe.
“Hotep.”
“Yo.”
“Juney, an old man needs to take a discrete ride to the airport, son.”
“You got it, Pops. When?”
“Now. Down the street and around the corner.”
There was a pause.
“So it’s like dat?” Juney asked.
“Yes, it’s like that, soldier.”
“Cool. I gotchure back. Five minutes.”
“Thank you. May the ancestors bless you.”
The call disconnected.
Akhan glimpsed around his North Philadelphia home, leaving the radio on, the lights on, and then headed for the back door. He checked his watch, becoming annoyed with himself for being so predictable. Age had created a routine. A daily walk down to the park, long, then quiet contemplation on a bench, feeding the birds. Perhaps a game of chess or dominoes, if a willing player appeared. Waiting for the youngbloods to come out and get schooled, a chance to interact with others and espouse what they thought was philosophical rhetoric. He loved the debates. They had much to learn. Yet he still had much to do.
He slipped out the back door and through the tiny yard. In April the heat hadn’t stirred the air to a humid, dank odor from waiting garbage cans, nor had larva begun to multiply. That was a good sign, he mused, passing along the narrow divide of concrete and old wrought iron gates that separated each neighbor’s postage stamp of privacy. The dogs didn’t bark. They all knew him and he fed them daily for just such an occasion, should one ever arise. Their silent, tail-wagging welcome told him that his passage was safe as he tossed small bits of lunch meat over each fence. He considered it a toll worth paying.
At the end of the alley, he hesitated until he saw Juney’s ragged Eldorado roll to a slow stop. He kept his eyes on the window, then saw the lock pop up—that’s when he made his move.
In a quick jog-step he reached Juney’s car and got in, closed the door quietly, and ducked down. Juney immediately pulled away from the curb, but did so without burning rubber.
Juney looked in the rearview mirror. “The man was on a roof across from your house with a scope, bro’ Akhan.” He kept his eyes on the mirror and zigzagged through the streets to be sure they weren’t being followed. “I think it’s cool, now, but all that smack you be talkin’ up in the park ain’t no joke, old dude. You know dey got black helicopters and whatnot for us, right. Figured dey was after you because you be dropping science ’round da way.”
Akhan sat up slowly and peered through the back window. “There was somebody across the street on a roof?”
“Sniper,” Juney said, looking five ways at the intersection. “Had the full kit, laying low. The moment I got your call, me and my boyz took a p
eek up on the flat tops from down my house. Seen ’em, but he ain’t seen us. Funny thing was, he wasn’t wearing black SWAT gear, feel me?”
“Nationality?” Akhan rubbed his jaw and glimpsed out the back window again.
“White, brother—whatchu think? I said the man, not jus’ Po Po.”
“No uniform.” Akhan grunted.
“It ain’t the cops, is it?”
“No,” Akhan said, leaning back against the seat. “Too dangerous. If he’s got a sniper’s kit, he’s a professional.”
“Like we ain’t?” Juney scoffed. “All I gotta do is hit my cousin on two-way, and he can bring that Uzi up from the basement. Sheeit, we’ll spray the joint and blow his foul ass off a rooftop—you don’t be coming up in da hood trying to bring noise to one of the old playas, especially one dat done paid his dues and been like a father to how many of us? Naw, we ain’t having it. Way I see it, we all owe you man. Respect. Say the word, and we’ll smoke him like a blunt.”
“Might need to ask you to do that for an old man one day—but not today. I’ve always said, be strategic, right?”
Juney let his breath out hard. “Yeah.”
“First of all, you spray the roofs, one of the kids or somebody’s mom might get shot and killed.” Akhan paused, allowing the import of the words to sink into Juney’s conscience, but well understood where the young brother was coming from. “If this was an intended hit, scheduled to blow me away in front of my own house—kill the hit man, and whoever sent him will simply hire another one. What I need to know is, who sent him and why.”
“Cool. Well, we know he ain’t roll up here on SEPTA, so his car is probably somewhere nearby. Want us to tag and open it up—you know we can clean it out like Gone In Sixty Seconds, my boyz is all pro, too.”
“Now you’re being strategic.” Akhan rubbed the stubble on his chin. “It’ll probably be a rental, nothing flashy, and most likely anything identifying will be in the trunk—not on him, in case something went down. He wouldn’t carry anything on him. The car will be in a bogus name, but the tag will help.... I know some people that know some people who can run a license plate, get a lock on which car rental agency he got it from, and from there get an alias.”
Shattered Trust Page 4