Retaliatory Justice

by Tawa M. Witko

  “You don’t have enough, Agent Masterson.”

  “I don’t have enough? Are you kidding me? Agent Paulson has pictures of…”

  “I know, I heard you the first time,” he states annoyed. “I need more. This case is very… delicate. I can’t authorize you to enter the building on just several cars pulling up to a building.”

  “So what the hell am I supposed to do? Just watch as a deal goes down in front of me?”

  “Collect data, that’s your job. I need the pictures. I need to be certain. That’s the only way we are going to get in. My superiors have already advised me that we are not allowed to approach without undeniable proof. My hands are tied, which means yours are as well. Agent Masterson, you are not to go in. Do I make myself clear?” he finishes angrily but I’m not sure who he’s angry at.

  “Yes, crystal,” I reply, throwing the phone across the room.

  My hands go to my head, rubbing them along the hair that’s starting to grow back as I kick the chair out of my way and start trashing the room. Throwing things left and right, tossing the table over and when I head towards some of the equipment, Clayton grabs me and puts me in some form of a sleeper hold.

  “Calm down, Val. I don’t want to hurt you, man,” he says calmly.

  “Let me go,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

  “There’s movement,” Michelle announces and I turn towards her.

  “I’m fine, Clayton, release me,” I say calmer.

  His large arms move and I practically fall to the ground before getting my bearings. I draw my gun and point it at him. It’s instinctual and I know it’s wrong the minute I do it. He stands firm though, a scowl on his face, and finally I just drop my arm and holster my weapon again. I turn abruptly and stride to the window to see what’s happening. Sure enough, there is movement from the building next to the restaurant. I can’t see what’s happening or who is going in and out but there are cars moving into the alley and pulling up right next to a side door.

  “Damn it!” I shout.

  “I can’t believe they won’t give us authorization,” Michelle laments. “All of them, shady as politicians.”

  “I’m going in,” I state with determination. I start walking past my team and can see Zach’s face. “I don’t want to hear it, O’Neal,” I say raising my hand as I pass him.

  “If we are doing this, we need a plan,” he counters.

  “What, go by the book O’Neal is gonna break a rule?” Jeff states snippily.

  Zach casually flips him off and I hear Clayton’s booming laughter.

  “The drivers are getting out,” Michelle says in a panic before turning to me. “If we’re doing it, we need to do it now.”

  I nod. “Let’s go!”

  We rush out of our room and start barreling down the stairs. Everyone is quiet, and soon, Zach is pushing passed the others, coming up right beside me.

  “We can’t give him anything,” Zach starts.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m not an idiot,” I return.

  “He can’t know what we know,” he continues as if I didn’t say anything just now.

  “He won’t,” I reply and out of the corner of my eye I can see Jeff rolling his eyes.

  “Don’t let him get you riled up,” Zach starts and I’ve had enough.

  I turn quickly and push him up against the wall. “The only one getting me riled up is you!”

  “Masterson,” Clayton hollers, tapping my shoulder.

  I step away from O’Neal and run my hand over my head. I need to calm down. I turn away and start down the stairs again, a little slower, and without the manic urgency I possessed a few moments ago. I stop when we get to the bottom of the stairs and turn to my team.

  “Let me do all the talking,” I say and all but O’Neal nod. I glance at him and sigh slightly. “I won’t let him get under my skin.”

  He finally nods as we step outside the building. When we reach the alley next to Enrico’s place, we approach a large man at the door. He looks like he can bench-press Clayton, and that’s saying something. He stares at me, unimpressed. I hold up my badge. He looks at it and then back at me, still unimpressed.

  “Do you have a warrant?” His deep gravelly voice asks.

  “This badge is a warrant. I’m with the ATF, asshole. I don’t need a warrant if I believe illegal activities are going on inside. Now let me in before I have you arrested.”

  He is staring at me and I can see the confusion on his face. He isn’t sure what to do but before he can make a decision both Clayton and Jeff are at his side with guns drawn against his temple. He glances from them back to me.

  “Open the damn door!” I hiss out.

  He hesitantly steps away and we enter the building. There we see Enrico talking to several men. There are no guns in sight, no drugs, no nothing except for a card game. Gino is smiling smugly at me as Enrico rises from his chair and begins walking towards us, Gino by his side while Aryana sits at the bar, looking bored. The new guy, Tony, is watching us with his arms crossed angrily.

  “Well, well, well. Look who has come to join us in a game of cards…” Enrico’s lips curl into a devilish smirk. “Elliott Ness, and these must be the newly minted untouchables,” he says in that wicked and mocking voice of his.

  He waves his hand dismissively at my team, which causes everyone but us to erupt in laughter. He steps right in front of me and his eyes are gleaming with excitement. I don’t waver as I glare at him, ready to kill if necessary.

  “Oh wait, you don’t play cards anymore, do you Ness, not since Daddy died, right?”

  I hear snickering in the background and my eyes immediately start scanning the faces in the room. I spot Aryana, who now has a knowing smile on her face. She then gets this faraway, almost youthful expression, as if she is remembering some blissful event in her life. I swallow thickly, fighting the urge to go over there and shoot her. When my eyes fall back on Enrico, he is grinning at me. Without thinking, my gun is drawn and pointing at Enrico’s forehead. Suddenly the smile he had on his face just moments before is gone.

  “What’s the matter, Ness? Did I touch a nerve?” Enrico hisses out like the snake that he is.

  I tap the tip of my gun against his skull. “If you ever talk about my father again I will kill you, no questions asked.” My lip quirks slightly as I move real close to his ear. “And here’s a little something you should probably know, I don’t care if I die in the process.”

  His eyes shift to me and he ascertains quickly the seriousness of my statement. My face is hard and ready and I see it, the flicker of fear in his eyes as he realizes that without a doubt I would kill him even though I would die doing so. Smirking, I withdraw my gun and step back while he raises his hand, flicking his wrist once, and all his men holster their weapons.

  “Do you mind if I have a look around?” I ask casually, walking passed him.

  “Actually, I do,” he answers crossing his arms.

  I laugh and glance over my shoulder, motioning with my head for my team to start searching. I just disobeyed a direct order from Anderson. I need to find something or my butt is in a sling. Everyone starts moving around the room. Jeff walks directly to Aryana, and if his look alone was lethal enough to drop someone in their tracks she would have disintegrated in that moment. I wonder if that’s the closest he has ever gotten to her. Zach comes up to him and whispers something in his ear and Jeff’s body posture changes. He then walks passed her to check out an area near the bar. Zach eyes her before he too moves to another area of the room. Michelle walks straight up to this Tony person and immediately starts frisking him, her face is stern and unwavering. She knew who he was but he is acting like he’s never met her so maybe they never interacted while in New York. Clayton walks to the round table and flips it over, cards and chips scatter to the ground. He runs his hand under the table and then picks something up from the floor and motions for me.

  “What is it?” I ask and some of the people start to move.

  I ste
p in front of one of the men and shove him back in his seat, eyeing the others. They all stand there dumbfounded for a moment before taking their seats again, looking at Enrico for some form of direction. I kneel next to Clayton but still watching the men in the chairs.

  “Look,” Clayton says, drawing my attention to him.

  He points to an area underneath the table that looks like it could hold a gun, except one isn’t there. He then places a gun shell in my hand. I stand and stride over to Enrico quickly, holding the shell between my thumb and index finger. When I get to him, I bring it up to his face. He stares at it dismissively.

  “Looks like you missed one?” I say with an arch of my brow.

  “For all I know your man planted that,” he counters annoyed.

  “Get I.D.’s so we can run everyone here,” I say not taking my eyes off Enrico.

  “Wallets everyone,” Clayton says authoritatively as everyone begrudgingly hands them to him.

  “I’ll write them down,” Zach offers walking up to Clayton.

  “Marshall Winston, Chicago Illinois,” Clayton begins. “David Fisher, Chicago, Illinois, Jeff Stenson, Omaha, Nebraska,” I hear movement and turn to see Clayton lifting a man up.

  “Hoffman, drop him,” Zach utters quickly.

  “Hoffman,” the man laughs, his feet dangling. “Hell, I watched you play ball,” he turns to one of the other men. “Best right tackle in Husker history.”

  Clayton throws him down and I see Michelle snatch Tony’s identification out of his front pocket. He stares at her, his features hard but she doesn’t seem to care. She flips his wallet open. Damn that girl is ballsy.

  “Tony Martin, Brooklyn, New York,” she says before slapping it against his chest and walking away.

  I turn back around and stare at Enrico’s smug face. “Don’t leave town.”

  He laughs. “Or what, Ness? You’ll sic your unruly band of misfits on me?”

  I smirk, letting him know that his insults don’t faze me and then raise my hand, motioning for my team. When they are all behind me, I push Enrico out of the way and laugh when Gino has to catch him. I hear scuffling, and while curious, I don’t turn back as me and my team head out of the building. Once we are a safe distance away, I stop everyone.

  “Anderson is going to be livid. I want you guys to get everything out of the stake out. I want nothing that shows we were there. Enrico will undoubtedly send in a sweeper team to find out how we knew something was happening and I don’t want him to know what we know.”

  “Boss, I was sure something was going down,” Jeff says, looking towards the ground.

  “It was,” Zach interjects and we all turn to him. “There is no way he was having a card came with those three. I know for a fact that Fisher sells guns on the black market.”

  “And Stenson is well known in Omaha as the gun dealer of choice for local gang bangers,” Clayton adds.

  I run my hand over my head. “Okay, we know they were up to something. This shell,” I bring it out of my pocket, “is unfamiliar to me.” I turn to Clayton. “Find out everything you can about this. We need to determine if it is possible that this came from the weapon you told us about.”

  He nods. “I’ll make some calls to some buddies overseas.”

  “It’s likely that Anderson will suspend me tomorrow, or worse, fire me for this little stunt but if we can use anything we got here tonight it will be worth it,” I say to them.

  “So we don’t report it,” Zach says and we all turn to look at him again.

  “I have to report it,” I reply confused.

  “Look, I know you all think I’ve got a stick up my butt about the rules, but...” he shakes his head and takes a breath in. “This is too important, there are too many lives at stake, we need to get them.” He nods his head slightly. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

  Clayton snorts. “Seriously, O’Neal, are you quoting Star Trek to us in an alley?”

  Michelle and Jeff double over laughing as Zach stands there, a deep shade of red rising up his neck and ears. I actually get what Zach is trying to say. I think walking in there tonight and the magnitude of what could happen if this gun gets in the states has hit him. He wants Enrico taken down as much as the rest of us, but I can’t have any of them take the fall for something I authorized.

  “It fits, damn it,” Zach says, his face full on red from embarrassment or anger, I don’t know which. “The point is, we investigate further before we go to Anderson.”

  I shake my head. “No, that won’t work, O’Neal, but thanks for having my back. I’ll go to Anderson in the morning and deal with the repercussions of my decision.”

  8 Warning Signs

  Dominique Walker

  June 27th

  It’s been five days since the grand opening. So far things have been going smoothly. We were busy the entire first weekend of service, waiting room only. The local newspaper ran a spread on the restaurant and even mentioned my name in it. The first time I was ever in the paper for my cooking. I made sure to send it to my father. Needless to say, he made sure everyone in Ormant knew about his little girl making it big in New Orleans. I think he even posted the article in the teachers’ lounge at the high school. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about the initial issues I’ve had with the owners. I know I should have but I couldn’t bring myself to burst his bubble.

  “I’ll catch ya later, Santiago,” I yell from the doorway.

  I head off on foot to the restaurant, enjoying the fresh air. I’ve decided to get to the kitchen early because I need to make sure I can order everything I need for this week’s specials. I’m still annoyed that I can’t just go to the market or the dock and decide for myself what I want. I hate having to ask permission to get the food I know is right for the restaurant. Shoot, even my dad let me do all the shopping in our home. He didn’t know what the heck I was making half the time, yet, he still never questioned what I bought. Once I get to Le Creole, I immediately head back towards the office but stop midway, hearing an argument unfolding behind closed doors.

  “You are so wrapped up in trying to screw the damn girl that you are losing focus on what we came here to do,” Marshall bellows.

  “I know exactly what we came here to do. I don’t need reminding,” I hear Phillipe growl.

  “Well I sure as hell hope not.” There is silence for a moment and then I hear Marshall’s voice again. “You better make sure your little girlfriend doesn’t get in my way.”

  “You won’t touch her! Do you hear me, Marshall? And let’s not forget that I’m the one in charge here, not you,” Phillipe yells in a tone that is hostile and frightening.

  “You only think you’re in charge,” Marshall spits out before pushing through the door.

  “What does that mean?” Phillipe demands while grabbing his arm, stopping his movement.

  I don’t know what to do. I am standing in the hallway frozen in place trying to figure out what’s going to happen. Are they going to fight? Suddenly they both look over at me. Phillipe releases his grip on Marshall’s arm and Marshall straightens out his jacket before stomping away from Phillipe.

  “Dominique,” he says with a smirk as he walks passed me.

  I watch as he goes by and immediately cross my arms, feeling a chill creep over my body, something that seems to happen every time he comes near me. What is wrong with that man? My mind is on Marshall when Phillipe touches my shoulder, causing me to jump.

  “I’m sorry, Dominique. I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he says with a smile.

  I shake my head and exhale. “It’s all right. I was just startled.”

  “How can I help you?” he asks, leading me towards his office.

  I reach in my pocket for the sheet that has the specials on it. “I wanted to get approval of the specials and go do the buying for the week.”

  He takes the list from my hand and takes a cursory look at it as he motions for me to take a seat on his couch. He sits on the edge o
f his desk, crossing his ankles and nodding as his fingers trace down the words on the page. When he is done, he looks up at me, places the list on the desk before crossing his arms.

  “Are you happy here, Dominique?”

  “It’s a tremendous opportunity that I’m eternally grateful for,” I answer truthfully.

  He grins and nods his head slightly. “Well, that doesn’t quite answer my question, now does it?”

  “I do love working here. It’s...” I pause, trying to decide if I should say what’s on my mind. “It’s just a little frustrating not being able to manage the kitchen like I thought I’d be able to.”

  “I see.” He taps his fingers against the desk lightly. “Is this about the ordering?”

  I blow out a frustrated breath and decide to go for it. What do I have to lose? Well, aside from my job, but he wants to know. “Yes, it is. I know of no other executive chef who is denied the ability to take care of their own kitchen. I feel like it undermines my authority and it’s very maddening. I hate having to come in here like a child and ask permission to order what I need to have.”

  He smiles. “You have done a wonderful job here. The reviews have been fantastic; the menu and specials are exceptional and you handle the kitchen staff with ease. I am sorry you feel as if we are treating you as a child, as that is not our intent.”

  He pushes off the desk and comes to take a seat next to me. I stiffen slightly, preparing for the next round of him asking me out when he suddenly leans back and crosses his leg. He has a contemplative look on his face as he traces his lips with the pad of his thumb; finally, he stands sharply, glancing down at me.

  “Go ahead and do what you need to do with the specials. I will continue to order the daily menus. I will have a credit card available for your use by the end of this week.”

  He then goes to the vault in the wall, which I hadn’t noticed was there before. He is very serious as he blocks the keypad while he types in the code and opens it. I don’t mean to, but I catch a glimpse inside and see that it is stacked with cash. Rows and rows of it. He closes it shut and I hear it click as he turns to me. He hands me a stack of hundred dollar bills as he sits back down.