Court Martial

by Donald E. Zlotnik

  The military policeman at the gate to Fort Leavenworth was closing the gate according to regulations when the prison siren went off again just as the canary-yellow Cadillac approached. The driver lowered his window and called out to the black MP, “Say, young man… could you let me out before you lock that?” The black businessman’s voice was pleasant. “I’ll be late for a very important meeting if I have to wait here.”

  The MP smiled and pulled open the gate just wide enough for the Cadillac to pass through. He let the three cars following the Cadillac pass also before he locked the gate until the alert was over. He didn’t want anyone to think he was prejudiced.

  The black driver of the Cadillac reached up and brushed the sweat off his forehead with the sleeves of the expensive suit jacket and sighed. “Fuck, was that a close call,” he said to himself.

  The intercom came on in the tower and the warden’s voice filled the after-fight stillness. “Guard! What’s going on out there?”

  The tower guard pushed the switch and spoke in a very calm voice that seemed to have matured in thirty seconds. “A prisoner-escape attempt. The captain is down… wounded, and one of our MPs is dead. One of the assailants is dead and one has escaped. He’s dressed in a military police uniform and helmet liner. He’s about six foot four inches and is big…and I mean big!”

  The warden’s voice cut into the conversation. “Is he on foot or driving?”

  “He left here on foot and disappeared behind a row of warehouses.”

  “Good job!” The warden turned off the intercom and almost instantly came back on the air. “What’s the status of our prisoner?”

  “Right now? He’s on his face with a shotgun barrel kissing his neck.”

  “Good!” The intercom went dead.

  The driver of the dirty canary-yellow Cadillac sat in an overstuffed chair across from a skinny man wearing a two-thousand-dollar suit. The office drapes had been pulled shut and the only illumination in the room came from the ultraviolet neon lights in the hundred-gallon terrarium. They gave a moonlight effect to the desert diorama inside the terrarium, which housed two live tarantulas.

  The man wearing the expensive silk suit opened a small pet-store shipping box and removed a white mouse. He held the animal by its tail and opened the wire trapdoor on top of the terrarium. “I wonder if they know the difference between a white and a brown mouse.” He tapped the side of the glass, trying to arouse the male tarantula, which was hiding under a corner of a small flat rock.

  “I don’t know, sir.” The driver of the Cadillac was visibly nervous and swallowed before continuing. “Do you like the gift?”

  “Yes… yes, I do… very much.” The tone of the man’s voice eased the fears resting inside the driver of the Cadillac. “But, Brother Karriem, we still have a problem… a very big problem now that you failed in your mission.”

  “Master Elijah, if you wish me to, I’ll go back there and try again....”

  The skinny man’s hand lifted up from the desk at the wrist and he moved two of his fingers from side to side. The movement was enough to cut the large man’s conversation off in midsentence. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. We’ve already lost one Death Angel in our attempt at rescuing Brother James. I don’t need a second loss. The Nation must always end up winning in our fight against the devilbeasts!” A slight tightening in the minister’s vocal cords was the only sign that there was a hatred contained in the Black Muslim leader. He leaned back in his leather chair and watched the female tarantula stalk the terrified white mouse. He formed a tent in front of his face with the fingers of his hands and smiled. “We need a special morale booster during tonight’s leadership meeting.” The room became very quiet as the two men watched the tarantula grab the mouse and inject her venom into the warm mammal’s side. The mouse’s legs twitched and the animal defecated on the sand. The minister’s smile widened. He lifted his hand and waved for one of the men standing in the shadows to step forward. “Do we still have that white devil down in the basement?”

  “Yes, Master Elijah.” The man’s voice was a deep bass that rumbled.

  “Have him prepared for tonight’s meeting.” The minister returned his attention to the Cadillac driver. “Brother Karriem…” He paused, giving the hit man a chance to regain his fear. “I don’t know if you are aware of the fact that Brother James was the youngest Black Muslim to achieve the rank of Death Angel. He was sixteen years old.”

  “No… Master Elijah… I didn’t know that. I knew he was special but I thought that was because of the money he had gathered from the brothers over in Vietnam—”

  “What money?” Elijah interrupted. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

  The Black Muslim leader glared at the man in the dark room. A shiver traversed the hit man’s spine even though he couldn’t see the minister’s eyes in the dark.

  Karriem looked down at the Afghan rug and stammered, “I—I—ah—” The muscled black man broke. He dropped down on his knees, shuffled forward around the front edge of the skinny man’s desk, and grabbed hold of the Black Muslim minister’s polished alligator shoe in both of his hands, lowered his head until his cheek brushed the toe. “Please! Please… Master… I know that I’ve failed you and the mosque brotherhood. Please forgive me… give me another chance!”

  The guard had taken a step forward, holding his silenced 9mm pistol down at his side. The scene was almost comic and at minimum very ironic as the huge black man with four-footwide shoulders held the small, skinny man’s foot.

  The minister smiled down at the pleading member of his congregation and waved off his personal bodyguard without even looking at him. He knew that Brother Karriem had forfeited his life by touching him. He was the supreme leader of the Nation and couldn’t be touched by the male members of the sect unless they were given permission. “Now… now there, Brother Karriem… anybody can make a mistake.” Elijah looked over at the feeding tarantula and smiled; it was a very thoughtful present. “I want you to think of something special for our blue-eyed devil tonight… something very special. We are going to be bringing three more Death Angels into the Brotherhood tonight and I want it to be a very memorable meeting for them.”

  Karriem started sobbing and kissed the minister’s shoe. “Oh thank you, Master… thank you for your kindness!”

  “Go now and get cleaned up for the meeting. it will be held here in the mosque.”

  The Black Muslim leader kept his back to the door and listened as the Death Angel Karriem and his bodyguard exited the spacious office. He leaned back in his chair and watched the tarantulas moving around the desert landscape in the terrarium diorama. He allowed his extreme anger to show on his face for the first time since he had heard that the rescue mission had failed.

  The things that he had said to Brother Karriem about Mohammed James were true; James was the youngest Death Angel to have been initiated into the secret sect. James also had provided the Detroit mosque with a large amount of money from the sale of drugs in Vietnam. All in all, James deserved the support and gratitude of the Nation for his loyal service, but that wasn’t the real reason Master Elijah had wanted Specialist Fourth Class Mohammed James liberated from the federal prison at Fort Leavenworth. The real reason was that Brother James knew too much about the Death Angel sect and about the fund-raising operations for the Detroit mosque. James was dangerous in the hands of the devilbeasts and would have to be either supported, liberated, or killed.

  Master Elijah rubbed his chin and thought about his last meeting with James. He had been very impressed with James’s fanatical desire to kill devilbeasts and was even more impressed when James had qualified for his Death Angel’s wings before he had turned seventeen. Mohammed James had briefed him on his desire to go to Vietnam and kill devilbeasts during firefights instead of killing their yellow-skinned brothers. The idea was a good one and he had blessed it, and at the same time he had made it a policy that all the members of the Nation do everything in their power to disrupt
the devilbeasts’ efforts in Vietnam.

  Elijah tapped the surface of his desk in a frustrated attempt to burn off some of the nervous energy inside him. He knew that another rescue attempt would be foolhardy and trying to kill James would be as dumb; he could only try to support his captured Death Angel and never make the same mistake again by bragging to an underling. James knew that there were Death Angel chapters in every one of the Nation’s mosques throughout the United States and also in military units throughout the world.

  A soft knock on his office door brought the minister out of his deep thoughts. “Yes?”

  The door opened. “Master, it’s almost time for the meeting.”

  “Thank you. Give me a few more minutes.”

  “Yes, Master.” The door closed softly.

  Elijah opened his top desk drawer and removed the small notepad where he had written the list of names that James had given him. Mohammed James was being shipped to Fort Bragg, North Carolina, for trial by a general court-martial, and the names on the list were the prime witnesses against him. Elijah ran his long fingernail down the column of names:

  Salvador Garibaldi (POW with James)

  *Spencer Barnett (POW with James)

  Jeremiah McDonald (sergeant in Vietnam)

  Elijah’s finger went back to the name Spencer Barnett and remained there He would start with him James had informed a brother in prison that this Barnett devilbeast was the prime witness against him. Brother Karriem would be given a second chance.

  Master Elijah pushed back his chair and stood up. He adjusted his clothes and inhaled a deep breath before walking to the door and turning the knob. He transformed into the Supreme Minister of the Nation and smiled when the bright light from the hallway struck his face. A group of very well-dressed men was waiting for him. Elijah nodded his recognition to each of them and then led the procession down the hall to a set of double doors. He paused and allowed one of his bodyguards to push open the heavy oak panels and then entered the room. A long conference table occupied most of the area and was surrounded on three sides by high-backed chairs. Sitting off to one side of the room were three men dressed in black suits and wearing very somber expressions. Master Elijah smiled and nodded at them. A dozen men sat in a row of chairs that lined the opposite wall. Brother Karriem occupied the chair closest to the main attraction.

  A pair of spotlights attached to the ceiling behind the long conference table intersected at a spot exactly 257 inches from the front edge of the conference table; an inch for every year of black slavery in America.

  The fourteen-year-old boy stood naked under the bright lights, his hands and feet tied tightly with leather thongs to a black-lacquered seven-foot pole. The ceremonial pole had been uniquely attached to a threaded hole in a specially designed base plate in the cement floor. A thick, clear plastic painter’s ground cloth had been spread out in a five-foot circle around the pole.

  Master Elijah took his seat and stared at the terrified child as he waited for his special guests to take their seats. The boy’s bright blue eyes sparkled in the spotlights. Elijah smiled. He could see the terror. The boy licked his lips and tried to swallow. He had been told that if he spoke to anyone, he would be beaten. Master Elijah allowed his eyes to drift down to the boy’s crotch. He could barely see any pubic hair, but that was due mostly to the child’s having almost white-blond hair, which didn’t show up as well as black hair against white skin.

  “Thank all of you for coming to this very special meeting.” Elijah spoke using his authority-filled voice. He was a master at changing his voice to reach any audience, and this group of men would respond only to absolute authority without a glimmer of human compassion in it. “Tonight we have three new members to present to a special gathering of Death Angel leaders from across the United States....” Elijah moved his open hand around the table. “Minister Fiad from our Los Angeles mosque; Minister Mohammed Aheem from New York; Minister Rhain-Rheem representing our Miami brothers at the Sun Mosque; and Minister Fard…” Elijah did not like the idea of the man taking the name of Fard and allowed it to show in the tone of his voice and the pause, “from our newest mosque and Death Angel chapter in Atlanta.”

  Each of the men nodded slightly to the three men sitting together and then over at the assembled Death Angels from the Detroit mosque.

  The fourteen-year-old boy tried staring past the bright lights in his eyes to see who was talking. But he could see only the three men sitting to his right side and a few of the men lining the wall to his left. A light coating of sweat covered his forehead even though he stood naked in the cool basement room.

  “Allow me to introduce our newest members.” Master Elijah held out his hand in the direction of the three somber pledges to the secret society. “First, there is Henry Phillips, who chose to eliminate nine male devilbeasts.” Elijah blinked his eyes. “And then we have Mohammed Mombutu, whose mother has been a very active member of this mosque since Master Wali Farad founded this mosque… his first mosque here in 1931.” Elijah allowed that fact to sink in to the membership in the room. It was important for all of them to remember where the Nation had been born and where the power rested. “Mohammed chose a more difficult task of exterminating five white women of the devilbeasts.”

  The room remained very quiet but a number of the assembled Death Angels nodded their heads in approval.

  Elijah saw the nods and quickly added so that he could maintain his absolute control of the group, “But we have a very special new Death Angel joining us tonight… Red Wolf Moore. He asked for special permission to have a quota of eight devilbeast children instead of the usual four.... All of us here know that it takes more courage for a Death Angel to kill children than it does to kill the adult male blue-eyed devils, and a score of eight just to become a member is commendable and I am going to personally present Red Wolf a brand-new Cadillac Seville for his accomplishment! Brother Karriem from our Los Angeles mosque will take him outside after this meeting and show it to him—a yellow one that will remind you, Brother Red Wolf, of the gutless devilbeasts.”

  Karriem felt his stomach tighten, but he didn’t dare let it show on his face that he cared if Master Elijah gave his car away.

  “As a special treat tonight in honor of our guests, Red Wolf has provided us with a Polish devilbeast he found hitchhiking from Hamtramck to his freedom in California.... I must say that I like the devilbeasts’ newfound love for running away from their families to join the love cults out west.” Elijah’s remark brought a couple of muffled laughs from those sitting around the conference table. All of them knew that the hippie movement was filling the highways with runaways and the pickings were extremely easy for Death Angels. Elijah added to his comment, “By the way, it should be noted that Red Wolf also got his quota the hard way. He got his spawn from hell in the northern suburbs right under the noses of the devil-beast police!” Master Elijah smiled and looked over at Brother Karriem. “That is eight devilbeast children for his Death Angel wings.... This one is a poor Polack, but Red Wolf was pressed for time and had to get something locally.” Elijah nodded and Karriem stood up. “Brother Karriem has some special entertainment for us tonight.”

  Elijah’s two bodyguards checked the heavy drapes that covered the walls of the basement room that were designed to muffle even the loudest noise.

  Karriem walked over to the child and gently brushed the long strands of fine blond hair out of the boy’s eyes. He smiled at the terrified child and then smiled back at the assembled Death Angels, whom he couldn’t see because of the bright lights shining in his eyes. Karriem reached into his back pocket and removed a razor-sharp hawk-billed linoleum knife. He reached over and tried grabbing the fourteen-yearolds scrotum, but fear and the cool basement room had drawn the child’s testicles and penis up tight against his stomach. The boy tried looking down to see what the huge black man was going to do to him. He hadn’t seen the fat blade of the knife yet.

  Karriem dug with his fingers to find the boy’s
testicles.

  “You’re hurting me.” The scared adolescent’s voice was the only sound in the room.

  One of the assembled Death Angels choked as he tried swallowing a laugh.

  Karriem tugged on the boy’s scrotum and then used the knife to slash it away from the child’s body. Surprisingly, there was very little blood. The boy’s veins withdrew back inside his body and the first scream rushed out of his lungs.

  Brother Karriem turned around to face the bright lights and held up the adolescent’s scrotum and testicles for everyone to see, then he threw them down on the plastic dropcloth.

  Elijah nodded his approval. “The devilbeasts have been castrating the black man for centuries… now it is our turn!”

  Karriem stepped back from the screaming child and allowed each of the assembled Death Angels who had been sitting with him against the wall to take a turn at mutilating the white teenager.

  Master Elijah watched with his eyes half-closed as the boy’s mouth opened and closed in silent agony. He always loved watching the victims die and he loved hearing them scream. An evil grin crossed his face as the boy died. He would make the devilbeast named Hitler look like a friend of mankind before he was through.

  The only problem he had was Mohammed James, who could ruin everything if the devilbeasts got him to talk.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Recon Reunion

  The nurse smiled as she pushed open the door to the private room. She always smiled when she saw the sparkle in the fire-blue eyes of her patient in room 131. He was special. She knew that she wasn’t supposed to show any partiality to her patients, but Spencer Barnett had won her heart in one gigantic, emotional, love-filled explosion.