The Take Down

by Mark Anthony

  “Angela,” I said in a new calm and relaxed tone. “I’m sorry for cursing at you. I just had an issue over some money that Gun Clap owes me for some previous work my company did with them. They’re getting my money ready so it might take a while. Nothing was said about White Lines but I think everything looks good.”

  “You think so? Okay, that’s good. I hope this G-Baby is not just some half-ass flunky that can’t green light anything … Well look, how the hell are you getting home?”

  “Angie, I’ll be okay. I gotta go … I’ll catch up with you later.”

  * * *

  I didn’t make it back to the house I was renting until about 3:15 that afternoon. I had decided to take a cab all the way home from Manhattan. Thankfully I had come down from the mini high that the cocaine had produced but unfortunately I was feeling like a sack of shit.

  No sooner had I made it inside my house but my cell phone was ringing. Checking the caller ID I immediately recognized that the call was coming from Gun Clap Records. I started not to answer it but I realized that that would have been a mistake. Obviously somehow my cover had been blown and I needed to send a clear message that I wasn’t a cop or an FBI agent and I had to send that message very quickly.

  “Hello?” I said as I answered my cell phone.

  “Hi, can I speak to Jessica?” the female on the other end asked.

  “This is Jessica. Who the fuck is this?” I barked, sounding genuinely pissed off and out of character.

  “Jessica, this is Horse’s assistant. He just wanted me to check with you to make sure that you got your money,” his assistant stated.

  “Put Horse on the phone!” I yelled.

  “Horse isn’t here, he just asked me—”

  I cut Horse’s assistant off and began ranting very convincingly.

  “When you speak to Horse you make sure you tell that nigga that I didn’t get my motherfucking money and I don’t give a shit about the money! And make sure that you tell him to watch his back ’cause I’m gonna have his ass fucked up for that shit he pulled today!” And when I said that I hung up the phone.

  No more than two minutes had passed and my cell phone was ringing again, and again it was Gun Clap’s phone number that appeared on the caller ID, only this time I didn’t answer it.

  I felt like shit, like I had been raped by a man. I wanted to jump in the shower and scrub my body and wash away the humiliating experience that I had been through with the two dykes. But regardless of how I felt I knew that I had to respond in the most niggerish way that I could.

  I had a male friend named Rahim who worked undercover for the DEA and I knew that I could call on him to help me out. I had met Rahim at a party that was given by a mutual law enforcement friend of ours, and we had exchanged numbers. And although Rahim was married, the two of us had managed to hit it off, and somehow he and I had found ourselves holed up in an Atlantic City hotel one weekend getting very sexually familiar with one another. So the two of us had some brief history and although I was supposed to keep the details of my investigation strictly confidential, I had kept Rahim up to speed on the ongoing status of the investigation into Gun Clap Records, so he was familiar with what I was doing. I reached out to him and explained to him what had happened and asked him if he would be willing to help me out.

  “Paula, you know I gotchu,” Rahim, the DEA agent stated.

  “But Rahim, my name is Jessica, remember that, don’t slip up and call me Paula,” I warned. “I gotta send a message to these bastards that I’m not an agent.”

  Rahim assured me that he had my back and he knew exactly how to handle the situation. He agreed to meet me in Times Square in front of the Marriott Marquis hotel by 5 P.M.

  “Okay, I’ll be there,” I said as I hung up the phone.

  * * *

  I went to my room and looked for some jeans that I could throw on. I thought about putting on some sneakers as well but I didn’t want to be too much out of character so along with my jeans I kept on my high-heel shoes and changed into a regular top.

  My nerves were still on edge from everything that had transpired so I poured myself a glass of Hennessy and Coke to help calm me down somewhat. While I put the drink to my mouth I simultaneously lifted my cell phone and looked at all of my missed calls from when my phone was constantly ringing while I was in the Sbarro’s bathroom. I had thought that it had been Angela calling me and rushing me so that she didn’t have to wait for me. But to my surprise what I realized is that my lead agent on the case—who is also my contact agent—was the one who had been calling my cell phone. He calls me from a prepaid cell phone that he discards every week and the number that was appearing in my missed call log was definitely from him. But for my protection he knows not to ever leave any messages on my voice mail.

  I quickly called back my lead agent, who goes by the code name of Andrew Allen. He and I are very strict in that we always only use our code names when we talk on the phone and we rarely if ever meet in public out in the open. When we do meet face to face it would be disguised as a chance meeting at a crowded restaurant, bar, lounge, or something similar to that.

  “Andrew, this is Jessica, sorry that I’m just getting back to you,” I stated as I began pouring myself another Hennessy and Coke.

  “Jessica, are you okay?” Andrew asked with some concern.

  “Yes I’m fine … A rough day so far but I’ll get through it,” I said, not yet wanting to show any signs of weakness or failure.

  “You had me scared as shit! You weren’t picking up your phone and I called you like a million times!” Andrew barked.

  “Yeah I know but I—”

  Andrew cut me off and stated, “Look, Jessica, we gotta pull the plug on White Chocolate. And we’re pulling it immediately! It’s the end of the road for Jessica Jackson.”

  “What!” I yelled into the phone, not understanding Andrew’s logic.

  At that point my other line was ringing, and it was Horse, but I couldn’t take his call just yet.

  “Jessica, we got a CI sitting on both sides of the fence and he gave you up,” Andrew explained.

  At first I was in total disbelief at what I had just heard. CI meant confidential informant, and the only way a CI could have given me up is if the CI knew that I was an agent. That information was supposed to be top-secret info that should in no way, shape, or form have ever been leaked out.

  “Who the fuck is the CI?” I asked.

  “Mims,” Andrew stated.

  “Chris Mims?” I repeated.

  “Yes. I was trying to call you as soon as I found out about the breach because I knew that we had to pull you. Now Jessica I know…”

  I was so vexed that I thought I was gonna break a blood vessel in my brain, and the liquor I was drinking wasn’t making my mood any better.

  “Andrew, with all due respect to your position, this is fucking goddamn bullshit! And I’m not pulling out of this investigation simply because you fucked it up!”

  “I fucked it up?” Andrew asked with contempt and disdain.

  “How did the information about me get leaked, Andrew? This is bullshit! My life, the life of an agent is worth less that some gangster-rap-bodyguard motherfucker? Is that what you’re telling me? You fucked it up because one of your men, my coworkers, snitched on me! How else could my cover have been blown?”

  “Jessica look, I know that you’re upset, but—”

  “Upset!” I yelled through the phone. “Andrew, let me tell you something. Your fucking phone calls were about a half-hour too late! While you were calling me I had a goddamn forty-five rammed so far in my mouth that it was touching my tonsils, and I had two dykes fucking threatening to blow my head off! I’m past upset! Who the fuck gave me up and why?”

  Andrew went on to explain that it was one of the agents from New York’s Organized Crime Task Force that had blown my cover. And that the agent had immediately been suspended and pulled from the street and would be shipped out to a southwest office until f
ull and authoritative disciplinary action could be taken.

  As I continued to listen, I realized that my cover had been blown simply because the agents on the Organized Crime Task Force must have connected the dots and realized how I was gonna tie Paulie Calvino’s daughter into my investigation in order to get at Paulie Calvino. Basically they were jealous of my success and jealous more so because I was a woman, a black woman at that. So rather than let me succeed in an area that they hadn’t been able to make any leeway, their insecurities were so strong that they would rather have seen me lose my life on the job.

  “Andrew, I’m not trying to disrespect your authority, but you don’t have any idea as to how I was violated today! You have no idea! And I don’t give a fuck, I’m not coming out. I can figure this out, just give me a few hours. And I’m not threatening you, but I will tell you this, if you pull me from this investigation I will scream to headquarters and I will scream to the media and whoever else I have to scream to in order to expose this sexist, racist discrimination bullshit that goes on in the Bureau, the same bullshit that almost got me killed!”

  “Sexist, racist discrimination? Jessica, what the hell are you talking about?”

  “Andrew, you know exactly what I’m talking about. You know that my cover was blown because the men on this job don’t want women doing a better job. Hell, they don’t even think that we can do the job or that we should even be on the job. Y’all brought me in to get close to the niggers. And as long as I was getting close to the niggers then y’all was cool with that, but because I was smart enough to tie in Calvino’s daughter—that’s where y’all fucking felt threatened!”

  My boss sighed into the phone, and he knew that I was right. He tried to explain to me that my life was in danger and that was the only thing he was concerned with.

  “Andrew, it’s my life! If I wanna risk it that is my prerogative! I’m telling you I can work through this. Just give me some time and don’t pull the plug just yet,” I pleaded.

  Thankfully my boss relented. And I know that he only did so because I had played the discrimination card. But I did what I had to to keep the investigation going. I could sense that I was almost where I needed to be in terms of getting close enough to Horse and his people. As soon as I got closer to them I was sure I’d be able to figure out a way to exploit them and get paid.

  * * *

  After my phone call had ended with my boss, I quickly placed a call to a cab service to come and take me to Manhattan. While I waited for the cab I sat at my kitchen table doing lines of coke and it was like a revelation hit me or something. That revelation was that I didn’t have to play by the rules anymore. And why should I play by the rules?

  Everybody has rules and every society has rules. Even the underworld has rules and that is why the people of the underworld hate snitches. They hate them because snitches break the code and mess things up for everybody else; snitches are basically selfish and look out only for their own interests.

  Well, this had been my first experience in dealing with agent snitches in the FBI. I had heard of it before, but never in the life of my career did I think I would experience being snitched on by another FBI agent. That was a major violation of our written and unwritten code. Someone broke the rules and the code and it almost cost me my life.

  I was now more determined than ever to complete this investigation—even if it meant that I had to break the rules of the FBI in order to do it. As they say on the street my attitude from now on would be … “What!”

  * * *

  When I reached the Marriott Marquis I walked into the lobby and waited for Rahim to show up. After about ten minutes of waiting, Rahim finally approached me.

  “Hey baby,” he said as he walked up to me and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

  “Oh, what’s up, hon?” I said as I was feeling nice from the coke and the drinks that I had had earlier.

  “You met Mike before, right?” Rahim asked, referring to his partner.

  “Yeah, yeah, I met him at the party. Hey, Mike. How you doing?” I asked.

  Mike said hello and he gave me a hug.

  It was so wild because if anyone on the outside was looking at the three of us, there is no way in the world that they would have expected that we were federal agents, me of course with the FBI and Mike and Rahim with the DEA. Rahim was about six foot two and stocky. He reminded me a lot of the basketball player Stephon Marbury. He had the same complexion, he had the tattoos like Stephon, and he had the same Coney Island accent. And his partner, Mike, who was also black, reminded me a lot of the actor Omar Epps.

  “So we better hurry up,” I said as we made our way to Gun Clap’s office. We briskly navigated across the busy Manhattan streets and as we walked I once again brought Rahim up to speed on what had transpired with me about four hours earlier.

  “A’ight cool. When we get to their office let me do the talking and if I’m off course you can jump in and back up my words. Mike, just keep your eyes open to everybody and everything that’s happening in the office while I’m doing the talking,” Rahim commanded.

  When the three of us made it to the security guard’s desk in the lobby, we walked right past the security guard and made our way to the elevator. When the security guard questioned us, I simply reminded him that we had been there earlier and had just stepped out real quick to get something to eat.

  Security was cool with that explanation and we proceeded up to the Gun Clap offices. It was nearing the end of the workday so I was hoping that everyone was still in the office but mostly I was hoping that Horse was there.

  When we stepped off the elevator we were greeted by the same loud music that had greeted us earlier in the day. And once again we were met by the same neck-twisting, eye-rolling attitude coming from the receptionist.

  I knew that we had agreed for Rahim to do all of the talking but I was far from being in the mood for the receptionist and her ghetto-ass bullshit.

  I marched right up to her and immediately snatched her up by her weave as I retrieved the small .22-caliber handgun from my bag.

  “Look, bitch! I’m telling your ass right now, I am not in the mood for your bullshit. Is Horse here? Yes or fucking no?” I shouted as I held a fistful of the broad’s weave in my left hand and my gun in my right, pointed at her head.

  The receptionist violently tried to free herself from my grip but I was stronger and she wasn’t having much success.

  BOW!

  I knocked the receptionist upside her head with the butt of my gun.

  “You gonna answer me or what, bitch?” I yelled.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” the ghetto receptionist yelled. “Horse ain’t here! Now get off of me or I swear to God I’ll kill you,” she barked.

  “Jessica, fuck that bitch! Come on,” Rahim commanded as I violently pushed the receptionist to the ground. The three of us made our way into the main portion of Gun Clap’s offices.

  As soon as we entered, Mike drew his gun and held it on one of the thuggish-looking security guys that was standing near the entrance.

  “You fuckin’ flinch and I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off!” Mike threatened, sounding kind of convincing.

  “Yo where is Horse at?” Rahim continually yelled as he went from private office to private office opening up doors to see who was inside.

  At that point the ghetto receptionist had made her way inside the main portion of the office and as Rahim continued looking for Horse, she began to yell, “I told you he wasn’t here!”

  “Where the fuck is he?” Rahim screamed as he gripped his gun and continued to rummage through the office.

  From the looks of things, it appeared as if most of the major players had broken out and gone home for the day. Mostly it was just support personnel left in the office. So as Mike held the security guard at bay, Rahim walked up to the receptionist and told her, “You see this lady right here? I want you to make sure that you tell Horse and whoever else you gotta tell, that nobody fucks wit’
her! And if he ever pulls some shit like he pulled earlier today that I will personally kill his ass!” Rahim’s voice echoed off of the walls in the office as all of the employees looked on in horror.

  “You understand me, bitch?” Rahim questioned again, as he approached the receptionist in a very intimidating manner.

  After saying that, Rahim proceeded to go from room to room and from desk to desk overturning papers and chairs and throwing computers on the floor, pulling platinum-record plaques off of the wall and basically trashing the entire Gun Clap office.

  By the time Rahim had finished and we had left, the Gun Clap office looked like a tornado had hit it, and all of the employees that were in the office at the time looked like they were scared enough to shit on themselves. Needless to say, we had definitely made a very powerful statement. I was sure that when word got back to Horse about what had transpired in the office, there was no way in the world that he would still suspect me of being an FBI agent, simply because what I had just done as an agent—in terms of wrecking the Gun Clap office—was illegal. What real agent would engage in such illegal activity as trashing an office and threatening workers with guns? Most agents would not have had the balls and the guts to respond in that manner without also attempting to make some kind of an arrest in the process, and I was sure that Horse would think the same way. Nevertheless I was still curious to see what Horse’s response would be and what the response of the FBI would be if they were to ever find out what I had done.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After we left Gun Clap’s office, Mike went home, but Rahim and I had decided to spend the remainder of that night at the Marriott Marquis hotel. On one of the upper floors of the hotel there is a restaurant called The View, which has a floor that continually rotates 360 degrees and allows the patrons to see breathtaking views of the Manhattan skyline while they eat.

  After eating, the two of us checked into a room at the hotel for another one of our secret sex rendezvous. As an agent, it was easy for Rahim to lie to his wife and get away from her presence. All he had to do was just call his wife and tell her that the case that he was working on had required him to do all-night surveillance or something to that effect and that he would not be able to make it home. And that is exactly what he did.