The Mike Black Saga; Payback

by Glenn, Roy

  When he got there Nick told Monika everything that had been going on. From the DEA agent being killed to Shy’s kidnapping, to his conversation with Sally Fitz. "Sally Fitz! That slimy bastard," Monika said. "He didn't give you the money he owes me?"

  "No, sorry. He didn’t even mention it."

  "I didn't think so. Since he wasn’t talkin’ about payin’ me the money he owes me, what’s the slimy bastard talkin’ about?"

  "You remember a guy, called himself Paris?"

  "Grey boy, thought he was cool, always used to wear sunglasses at night?"

  "That’s him."

  "What about him?" Monika asked.

  "I’m not gonna bore you with the Pam Grier story he told me, but one of his mule left a package in the open."

  "And?"

  "Sal’s didn’t know who the buyer was, but General Peterson was brokering the deal."

  "What was in the package?"

  "He said it’s got somethin’ to do with South America and drugs."

  "Stop right there, Nick. What are you tryin’ to say?"

  "That I think that package has something to do with us and that the buyer is Diego Estabon."

  "So you think it had something to do with what we were doin’ down there?"

  "I don’t know for sure," Nick replied. "But I can’t get past what Felix said."

  "What’s that?"

  "That if what we were doin’ down there became public knowledge, there’d be hell to pay in Washington. That’s why they had to get rid of us."

  "I think you’re right. I mean, you said it yourself. There we were in South America, small teams, each working independently, killing drug dealers, blowing up drug plants and seizing their financial records. But then the entire unit is needed to take out one plant: Diego Estabon’s plant. So if that package is what you think it is, were fucked."

  "I gotta try to find out what’s in that package."

  "Felix and the General work for Estabon. And he was Chilly’s supplier, right?"

  "That’s something that always has bothered me, Nick, but now it makes sense."

  "What’s that?"

  "Why did Chilly’s wife hire us."

  "What?"

  "It’s not a hard question. Why did she hire us, a team of paid assassins, for a missing persons case?"

  Nick didn’t have an answer.

  "I mean, we weren’t really private investigators. We didn’t advertise, we weren’t listed in the phone book, so how did she find us?"

  "I never thought about that," Nick said.

  "I think that if we could actually find Mrs. Childers she would tell you that she was recommended by Diego Estabon."

  "She does know him, so it is possible," Nick said.

  "Who else could it be? They set us up to be killed?" Monika paused. "How many people do you think are involved in this?"

  "I don’t know, Monika. There’s no telling how many or how far up the chain of command this goes. But I do know they’re still gonna want us dead. That’s why I brought you this." Nick handed Monika a wooden book with the initials M.W. on it. Monika smiled. The box contained two 9-millimeters. Nick and Jett had given it to her for her last birthday.

  "I got them out from your house after you got shot." Nick handed Monika a box of clips. "You should be safe here. Call me if you need me. I promise to answer this time," Nick said and got up.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  There was no telling what time it was when Shy woke up. At this point, she had no idea what day it was or how long she’d been there. She was being treated well for the most part. If you can consider being tied to a bed all day treated well. She considered herself fortunate that she was still alive and hadn’t been raped. The only thing she did know was that there was a McDonald’s somewhere nearby, or at worst, one of her captors loved it there, because that’s all she’d been given to eat.

  When it was time for meals, two armed men, both wearing masks and gloves, would come into the room where she was being held. Neither would speak. They would untie her, remove her blindfold and allow her to use the bathroom. While Shy ate, both men would sit in the room with their guns pointed at her. Once she was finished eating, the blindfold was placed over her eyes and they would tie her to the bedpost and leave her alone again.

  Shy slept most of the day, and when she wasn’t sleeping, she thought. She tried to think of something constructive, but it wasn’t easy to keep a positive mental attitude when she’d been kidnapped and tied to a bed for who knows how many days.

  There was one thing that she, no matter how hard she tried, couldn’t help thinking about. Who was that woman and why did she want to kill Shy so badly? No matter what she thought about, and Shy had nothing but time to think, she always came back to that one point.

  She thought about all the women who might have a reason to want her dead. She had, as a rule, steered clear of women. They are bad news and bad for business, Shy remembered her father telling her when she was younger. For that reason, her list of suspects was short. First on her list was Susan, Ricardo’s wife. When Shy met Mike, she had been dating Ricardo. But for three years, Ricardo had been living a double life. One night when they were at a club, Ricardo told Shy that he could never see her again because while Shy was in love with him, he had another woman and they were getting married. But then he flipped it on her and told Shy that they could still see each other on the low.

  Shy lost her mind. She stood up and pulled out her gun. She was about to kill him, but one of her crew grabbed the gun out of her hand. After that, Shy didn’t have any interest in men, preferring instead to concentrate on making money. That was until she met Mike Black.

  It didn’t take Shy long before she ruled Susan out. She just didn’t have it in her.

  There was only one person Shy could think of who would have a reason to want her dead. She never actually met her. In fact, she’d only seen her twice, and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember her name. Shy remembered the first time she saw her at Impressions on the night that she met Mike. The second time, Shy had just left Mike at Cuisine. She was riding with Jack, one of her old crew, when she saw the woman coming. Shy remembered saying, "Slow down, Jack. I wanna make sure this bitch sees me." They drove past slowly, but the woman wasn’t looking. "Honk the horn." When the woman looked at the car, Shy mouthed the words, He’s mine, then motioned to Jack to drive on.

  Shy remembered thinking that it was funny back then. Now, if this was the same woman—And I’m sure that it is, it couldn’t be anybody else—then it wasn’t funny. And if that was the case, then what was whatever her name is doing mixed up with South American drug dealers?

  Since the doctor sedated her back on the boat in Miami, she hadn’t heard Sal’s voice. Was it possible that she was no longer in Miami and that Sal brought her to New York and left her?

  New York, Shy thought.

  The idea that she might be back home in New York made her smile. Not just because she was in the city, but if she was in the city, Shy knew that sooner or later Mike would find her. It was a very comforting thought.

  Just then, Shy heard footsteps coming down the hall and fumbling of keys. She had to laugh at herself, because that sound always made her heart beat faster. She felt like one of Pavlov’s dogs, as she knew that sound might mean that she would be allowed to get up and use the bathroom, which, in fact, she had to do soon. Shy listened as the key went into the lock and the door opened.

  Once she was untied, Shy got up and stretched. It felt good to get off that bed. Her back was starting to hurt. Shy started to reach for her blindfold.

  "Leave that on. We’re leaving."

  "You’re letting me go?" Shy asked.

  "Don’t ask questions. Just do what you’re told and we won’t have any problems."

  "Can I at least use the bathroom first?"

  There was a long pause and then Shy’s blindfold was removed. There before her were the same two masked and armed men. "Make it quick."

  Once Shy
was finished in the bathroom, one of the men told her to put her hands behind her back. Shy complied with their request. After her hands were tied tight and a hood was placed over her head, one of the men said, "Let’s go."

  They led her out of the room and down four flights of stairs. From the sounds that she heard and the heat, Shy knew she was outside. They walked a little farther then stopped. Shy heard a noise.

  I hope that’s not what I think it is.

  One of the men picked her up and laid her down on something hard. Then she heard the noise that she didn’t want to hear: the sound of the trunk slamming. From the time she heard them say that they were leaving, Shy was hoping that it didn’t mean she would be riding in the trunk.

  Oh well, just one more story to tell the grandchildren. That’s when Shy realized that her period was late.

  While she was riding in the trunk Shy thought about the men who were holding her captive. She had heard both of them speak. They sounded like they were black, but she couldn’t be sure. It made her a little more confident in her earlier assumption that she was no longer in Miami and with the South Americans. But where was she?

  When the car stopped and the trunk was opened, one of the men helped Shy out of the trunk and led her into a building. They walked for a while and then stopped. Shy heard an elevator door open. They went up a few floors, and she was led into a room, where she was untied and her hood was removed. Both men backed out of the room and locked the door behind them.

  Shy looked around the room she was in. It was definitely a hotel room, but not the best hotel she’d ever been in. In fact, it was probably the worst. The first thing she did was try the door, but it was locked. Next, Shy went to the window to see if she could tell where she was or at least what floor she was on, but the window was bricked shut. She went into the bathroom. "At least it’s clean." Shy walked over to the bed, picked up the remote control and turned on the television.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  At exactly five o’clock, a car pulled into a parking space directly in front of Impressions. The driver, a tall man dressed in jeans and a white tee-shirt got out and walked away.

  One half-hour later, a woman drove her car into the parking lot at Impressions, and went inside for happy hour. She sat at the bar and ordered a drink.

  "Let me have a hypnotic, honey," she flirted with the bartender. "You’re kinda cute, honey, what’s your name." She sat at the bar drinking and flirted with just about every man who came near her. This went on for the next hour, until a man came in and she invited him to sit down next to her.

  The two of them sat at the bar, talking, laughing, dancing and drinking together for hours. At eleven thirty the man looked at his watch and whispered, "It’s time."

  They got up from the bar and walked out of the club arm in arm, still talking and laughing. As they approached the front door they saw three cops along with the club’s security. As they got close enough for everybody to hear, they went into their act. "You sound like a fuckin’ fool," she said as they passed the cops.

  "You got that right," The man laughed. "I am a fuckin’ fool."

  At the same time in the club’s office, Tara Wallace the club’s manager looked at her watch and prepared to make her rounds. She put on her head set and called security. "Greg, meet me in the office. I wanna get my rounds done before the show starts," Tara told him.

  "Yeah, P-Harlem is hot. I wanna see him too," Greg said of that evening’s entertainment. "I’ll be there in a few."

  Once Greg arrived, he and Tara went around to all five of the bars in the club and took money from each of the cash registers. A couple of months earlier, Wanda had noticed that profits at the club were down, but the crowds had remained consistent. She brought it up during the monthly meeting with Mike and Bobby. "That means that somebody is stealing," Bobby said.

  Wanda handed the income statement to Mike and he looked at the numbers. "Looks more like a whole lotta somebody’s stealing, Bob."

  "Why don’t you have Tara go around during the night with security and count down the registers," Wanda recommended. "That will at the very least give us better control of the money."

  "If people are gonna steal from you, they’ll find a way to do it," Mike said and passed the statement to Bobby. "But I think it’s a good idea."

  "Glad that’s settled," Bobby said and got ready to leave. "I got something that I need to take care of."

  "Before you go, Bobby, there’s one more thing."

  "What’s that?" Bobby asked impatiently.

  "This funeral home that you said we needed, Mike."

  Mike and Bobby looked at one another. "What about it?" Mike asked.

  "It’s losing money. In fact it’s never made any money. I think that we should cut our losses and sell it," Wanda advised.

  "No, Wanda," Mike said. "That funeral home provides a valuable service to the community," he said and followed Bobby out of Wanda’s office.

  After the registers were counted down, Tara went to the front door and counted that drawer down as well, before returning to the office just before the show started at midnight.

  "Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Thursday night live at Impressions. Is everybody havin’ a good time?" the MC asked the crowd, but got only a weak response from the crowd. "I don’t believe you heard me, I said is everybody havin’ a good time?" this time the crowd of nearly fifteen hundred people roared. ‘Is everybody ready for P-Harlem?" and the crowd roared again. "That’s good, that’s good, cause we gonna bring him out in just a minute. But, before we do that, I wanna remind you all to be sure to tip your bartenders and your waitresses, they are here working hard to take care of you, so you take care of them."

  The crowd began to chat, "P, P, P . . ."

  "A’ight, a’ight. You’ve seen him on 106 and Park and his new single is blowin’ up ya radio everyday! Impressions very proudly welcomes to the stage, New York’s own, P-Harlem!"

  The crowd went wild and continued to chant, "P, P, P . . ." as P-Harlem slowly walked across the stage, escorted by two of his dancers and struck a pose for the crowd as the chanting continued, "P, P, P . . ."

  "Thank you, Impressions, thank you" P-Harlem said as he grabbed the mic. "Y’all too good to me."

  The chatting continued, "P, P, P . . ."

  "Y’all ready to set this bitch on fire!"

  The crowd continued to chat, "P, P, P . . ." and the beat began.

  Niggaz ain’t shit to me, truth is, ya crew ain’t hot,

  Y’all boyz are sloppy and ya crew don’t pop

  We can bang out, Let them things out, my crew don’t stop

  How you gangster, runnin’ for safety like Ronnie Lott

  Meanwhile, outside the club, in the parking lot the argument had begun as planned. "Who the fuck do you think you talkin’ to me like that?" the woman yelled. "I’m a muthafuckin’ lady, you sorry ass muthafucka."

  "I’m talkin’ to you, bitch!" the man yelled back.

  "I know you don’t think that just because you bought me a few drinks ,that mean that you gonna get some of this pussy! It takes a whole hell of a lot more than a couple of drinks to get this pussy!" she screamed.

  "What do it take then, baby?"

  "It takes a lot more than you got," she said and laughed in his face.

  "How the fuck you know what I got?"

  All I’m tryin’ to do is make that cash, put it in my stash

  But I see niggaz want me to fail

  I can’t do that homie, thought I proved that

  New coupe, same color as a taco shell

  Hop out nigga with the stroke, bitches ready to fuck

  Outside the club, the argument was beginning to get loud and as expected one of the officers walked over to see what all the noise was about.

  Niggaz looking from the side

  Hatin’ approach me on that battle shit

  I was like what go on fear factor nigga

  And eat some buffalo nuts cause this shit not for yo
u

  See my life, look at the obstacles of Oz

  "Get your muthafuckin’ hands off of me!" the woman yelled. As the officer approached, the woman took out her gun, a 22 caliber automatic, "I’ll kill you!" she screamed and fired two shots at the ground.

  Hearing the gunshots, all three officers ran toward the sound, leaving the front door unprotected. The cop, with his gun drawn yelled "Drop the gun!" The woman dropped the gun and put her hands up.

  "What’s goin’ on over here?" the cop asked as the other two officers arrived on the scene.

  They immediately separated the woman from the man. "Y’all need to lock her up! That bitch is crazy."

  "I ain’t crazy and I ain’t no bitch. This sorry ass muthafucka was trying to feel on me!"

  "So you shot at him?"

  "No, I was just trying to scare him with the gun and it went off by accident."

  Back inside the club, four armed men in ski masks came though the front door. "Nobody moves and nobody gets hurt." One of the men stayed near the door so he could watch the cops. One of the men moved quickly down the hallway leading to the club. Since the show had everybody in the clubs attention, it was easy. One of the robbers put his gun to security’s head. "Get down on the floor and don’t move or say shit," the gunman instructed.

  Youngin’ making power moves, Johnson and Johnson

  You see what that powder do

  Help a nigga stack some frito lays,

  You need to put ya punks away

  Pitching on the block so long, I call him Satchel Paige

  The fourth man shoved his gun in the face of the woman who was working the register. "Put all the money in the bag and I won’t kill you."

  The woman quickly complied with the gunman’s orders and filled the bag with all the money that was left in the register and handed the bag back to him. With the money in hand, all four bandits backed out the door. Once they were gone, security got up from ground and called the office on his head set. "Tara, Tara!"

  "This is Tara; what’s up?"