Thrills

by K. T. Tomb

  “I made this decision for I now believe it to be in the best interest of my family, the community of western Kingston and, in particular, the people of Inner City and, above all, Jamaica,” Brown said in a statement released to the news media, his first public comments since the US requested his extradition in August.

  Brown faces a maximum sentence of life in prison in the United States if convicted of drug and gun trafficking charges.

  An indictment unsealed last month in federal court in Washington alleges that since 1994, members of Brown’s notorious Shower Posse gang in Jamaica and their US counterparts “have sold narcotics, including marijuana and crack cocaine, at Brown’s direction.”

  The US cohorts, the indictment says, “commonly send cash and goods, including clothing and electronics, to Brown as ‘tribute’ payments, in recognition of his leadership and assistance.” The tribute payments also include firearms, the court papers add.

  The indictment says that cooperators have recorded phone conversations with Brown about shipments of drugs and handguns.

  Brown was captured Tuesday after a week-long manhunt when he made an attempt to escape in a customized shipping container at the Kingston Wharves.

  The 15-minute extradition hearing was held this morning under heavy security at a military outpost in Kingston, the Caribbean nation’s capital, out of fear of possible attacks by supporters.

  Brown wore a gold chain over a blue striped shirt and was surrounded by security officers who towered over the 5-foot-4 strongman. He nodded to journalists on his way into the makeshift courthouse and acknowledged in a soft voice that he understood he would face trial in Washington.

  He expressed confidence that he will be found innocent and allowed to return to his family in Jamaica.

  The government initially resisted the extradition request in a nine-month standoff with the United States that became a political liability for the Prime Minister, who represents the Inner City district in parliament. His governing party, which has long-standing ties to gangs in Inner City, narrowly survived a no-confidence vote over his handling of the case earlier this month.

  After the Prime Minister announced he would relent on the extradition request, security forces and gunmen loyal to Brown battled for four days, leaving 76 dead. The prime minister described the fight as a turning point in Jamaica’s struggle with crime.

  ***

  “You have anything you want to confess or any names you want to give me before we go?” FBI Agent Romeo Moore asked as the plane came to a stop inside the hangar.

  “You ain’t no priest,” Brown spat.

  “Maybe not, but from here until you’re in the federal lockup, your life is in my hands,” Romeo growled.

  “I ain’t telling you nothin’ without a deal.”

  “Suit yourself.” Romeo looked at the team around him. “Alright, gentlemen are we ready?” He’d seen CNN the night before just like everyone else in the world. Everyone knew that they would be arriving at Dulles. He had little doubt that the news cameras had followed their plane all the way into the hangar. Some reporter was probably interviewing the leader of Brown’s rescue squad before their assault. He understood the need of a free press, but sometimes a free press got people killed.

  “Everybody in the world knows where we are and what we’re doing, so look sharp.”

  Although there was a security team waiting for them outside the plane and inside the hangar, Romeo knew that there was a leak in the FBI and any portion of the transfer could be compromised.

  They exited the plane rapidly and slipped into the back of the armored car. Once they were ready to roll, they opened the hangar doors wide enough to drive the armored car out of the hangar. On either side of them, as they exited the hangar were two black, armored Humvees decked out with weapons and loaded with more of their team members. He knew that there would be security all along the way checking for any possible threats and rerouting the convoy if necessary.

  The convoy sped up and started across the tarmac toward the open gate. In his opinion, in spite of the security, the airport was their most vulnerable point. He’d hoped that the security teams had cleared the entire area and that the over-flights had taken care of making sure that everything was secure. He had no other option than to trust that they had done their job. Of course, there was the leak.

  The first of three simultaneous blasts rocked the armored truck. It careened wildly as the driver fought against the tremors that had jerked the wheel out of control. Romeo, Brown and the agents in the back were tumbled like socks in a dryer as the driver fought to regain control.

  Making certain that Brown did not have the opportunity to grab a weapon from one of the other agents, Romeo took a firm hold on the collar of his body armor and held him against himself as tightly as he was able.

  Another anti-armor round hit the truck and it tipped over onto its side and slid along the tarmac between the two Humvees. Automatic gunfire began to rattle all around them and Romeo looked at his other team members to make sure that they were both okay. A couple of them were stunned, but still able to function.

  When he felt the heat of flames toward the front of the cab, Romeo suddenly realized the secondary explosion must have punctured the vehicles gas tank after which sparks from flying bullets ignited the fuel. Were they not on fire, they could have simply stayed put inside the armored truck until they were either assaulted or the rest of their team came to get them. With flames and the heat of the fire growing, however, they would have no choice but to exit.

  “Teams of two just like we drilled.”

  The first two were supposed to set the perimeter, the second two ascertain the nearest cover and he and his partner were supposed to take care of Brown. The group of six would keep Brown inside their small perimeter and they would hustle him off the tarmac to regroup and hope that their security team was able to gain control of the situation.

  “Ready, go!”

  The door flew open and they exited the armored truck quickly. The perimeter guys were taking heavy fire as they exited and had to pull back into the cover of the truck. Since the first two hadn’t moved, the second two were stuck in the doorway and he, Brown and the other agent were still unable to exit.

  Fire from the two Humvees was heavy in spite of the fact that they had been immobilized. Brown’s forces likely had hand-held launchers. He’d trafficked in weapons, so he had nearly anything he needed at his disposal for an assault.

  “We’ve gotta move gentlemen,” Romeo called out. “That fire isn’t going to wait on us.”

  “We’re under heavy fire,” one of the men outside called out.

  Romeo heard the chain gun of a helicopter join into the din sound of firing. “Move now while that chopper provides cover. Go!”

  The team moved as a unit. Most of the bullets were being directed toward the defense teams and the helicopter and it bought them enough time to clear the burning truck and start toward a hangar a hundred and fifty feet away.

  As they ran and fired, two of his men went down and the security around Brown was compromised. It would serve the son of a bitch right to take one from his own posse, Romeo thought, holding him close to himself, knowing that if the assault team was Brown’s posse, they would be careful where they shot. If not, he was their primary target. With the same odds as a flip of a coin, Romeo was betting on the assault team being Brown’s posse.

  They lost a third man before they were able to slip into cover and the relative safety of the hangar. Within moments, two more agents joined them in the hangar, one of which took up a position alongside one of the original team members to keep a watch on any of the assault team that happened to slip away from the main firefight which was still raging on the tarmac and move toward them; the other joined Romeo.

  “Jesus, Romeo,” he grinned as he approached. “You enjoy this kind of shit or something?”

  “Not so you would notice,” he replied. He wasn’t smiling and for a split second, he wondered why a
nyone else would be. “We need to get him a little further into this place.”

  “I’ll take care of that,” the newcomer volunteered. “You take a drink.”

  Romeo took the canteen that had been offered to him without even thinking and then something struck him. He hadn’t seen the agent in the hangar team or the security team. Where had he come from so suddenly?

  “Come on, Moses,” the agent said, pulling him from the floor and dragging him to his feet.

  Romeo’s gut told him that something wasn’t right before he had any logical reason for thinking it. Instinctively, he raised his weapon and leveled it at the latecomer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man at the door turn his weapon toward their team and heard a bullet whistle by him in route to taking out Romeo’s partner. In the same instant, Romeo fired at the man who, while pulling Brown from the floor had produced a knife and was bringing it up toward Brown’s throat.

  Romeo’s bullet made a hole in the man’s temple and he saw him collapse to the floor; the knife rattling on the concrete as it fell away. Romeo turned toward the other shooter at the door, feeling the impact of a bullet striking his armor as he turned. With the body armor on, it was like being punched really hard in the chest and his first bullet missed its mark.

  The gunman’s finger squeezed down on the trigger, expecting to send a barrage of bullets at Romeo, but most of those bullets only found their mark in the ceiling as a well-aimed bullet from someone behind Romeo punched a hole between his eyes.

  ***

  Later that night, Marcel Brown was escorted into the holding area of the Federal Bureau of Prisons’ Central Office headquarters in Washington DC It was a confusing mess as FBI agents and FOB officials scrambled to process the high profile criminal and get him into a secure federal prison facility as quietly as possible.

  From the attack on the convoy at the airport, it was clear that multiple criminal entities were aware of Brown’s arrival and location. If the FBI and the US Attorney’s office wanted to indict, they would need to keep the man safe and alive. What no one in law enforcement was prepared for was the arrival of Storm McCoy at the Central office demanding to speak to his client.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. McCoy,” a senior administrator in the main lobby said. “I’m not able to allow you to see him at the moment. He has to be processed and delivered to his assigned facility first, and then you can request to see him.”

  “You’re going to lock my client up in solitary confinement in a maximum security prison in God knows where before I even have a chance to talk to him? That’s bullshit and you know it!” Storm screamed at the man.

  “Sir, it’s procedure. He’s been extradited so unless you can convince him to give us more than we already have, this is going to be the easiest case you’ve ever lost in your entire career.”

  Storm sneered at the man. He was too smug; he hated dealing with smug law enforcement officers.

  “Fine. At least tell me where you’re sending him for holding.”

  “Oh, sure. That should be easy enough. Let me see,” the officer said, as he reached for an overloaded clipboard. He flipped through the pages that were on top for a few seconds then replied, “Okay, here we are. I’ve got him headed for USP Lee.”

  “Oh shit! That’s maximum security. Come on, is that even necessary?” Storm paused for a second and thought. He’d spoken too soon. This was probably for the best; Marcus would be in solitary 23 hours a day and outside for one. Even then he’d be outside by himself. Complete segregation from the general population of the prison would keep him as safe as could be expected. “You know what,” he said to the man, “let it be. It’s probably for the best. When can I see him though?”

  “Tomorrow. Lawyers can visit anytime during the regular hours.”

  “Thanks.”

  ***

  “Looks like you got yourself a really good lawyer, Brown,” Moore said as he watched the prison admissions officers process Marcel’s fingerprints and take his mug shot.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Romeo,” the man replied. “I don’t need a defense. I have you. I never said I was innocent; I just didn’t want to get locked up down there. From the fiasco at the airport, I can positively say that I’d already be dead if I had remained in the custody of local law enforcement.”

  “I can believe that now. I thought you were just really paranoid before.”

  “No paranoia, son. There’s no place for mental illness in my line of business.”

  Romeo laughed then replied, “And yet so many criminals are completely insane.”

  Marcus laughed as well at the comment.

  “I never hired a lawyer anyway. I’m not here to defend my actions; I just want the best deal the US District Attorney will give me. I just figured that there’d be a public defender or something.”

  “You must really be crazy then. Every over ambitious, ego-driven lawyer on the eastern seaboard that’s worth their salt is going to want a piece of this. I surely wouldn’t be surprised if it turns into some OJ Simpson shit and you have three or four of them in court with you.”

  “Naw, man. Trust me, I just want to deal. I’ll give them everything I’ve got on anyone they want so long as they keep me here. It doesn’t even matter where; I just can’t go back there.”

  Moore nodded and turned to leave the correctional officers to their work. Four men from Lee were assisting the central office administrators with the process already. They planned to do all the standard Lee facility procedures there so they could slip him into the prison without anything leaking out into the prison’s general population.

  “Who was it anyway?” Brown asked.

  “What? Who? Oh, the lawyer?”

  “Yeah, who was it that came to see me?”

  “A guy named Storm McCoy. He’s out of New York. You know him?”

  “Not at all. But if he’s out of New York, maybe my family called on him. They’re all there, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  ***

  In disgust, Marcel Brown’s lawyer ripped off his tie and threw his briefcase across the hotel suite at the Four Seasons in Washington DC.

  He swore loudly. Not because the case hadn’t been going well. Quite the opposite, in fact. Marcel Brown, infamous Jamaican criminal was going to be freed next week if nothing unexpected came up. What disgusted Storm McCoy about it was that the case had seemed like it would be interesting, but had turned out to be so easy.

  His first instinct had been right. The FBI did not have the legal authority to arrest people in other countries. In many cases, the countries did not protest, or if they did, the US ignored them. But in this case, Marcel Brown’s attorney in Kingston had already appealed to the Privy Council about this. A letter had arrived at the State Department from the Lord President of the Council a few days after the arrival of Marcel Brown in the United States. Nicholas Craig’s letter was not immediately acknowledged to even exist by the federal prosecutor or the State Department, but when the Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom appeared on the BBC and the heads of government of the Commonwealth passed a motion demanding Marcel Brown’s release and his return to Jamaica at their biennial meeting, it was too much for the United States government to ignore. Just as Storm began his preliminary moves in the process, Michelle Flaherty, spokesperson of the State Department read a statement announcing his release and his traveling back to Kingston.

  That was where things had really gotten interesting and the most notorious gang member of the decade had single-handedly turned the tables on the US justice system. Marcus and Storm had gotten wind of the Commonwealth appeal just a few days after he’d been locked up at Lee High-Security Prison. The prosecution had been convinced they had the case in the bag and erroneously decided to ignore it but Brown and Storm had predicted exactly how things were going to go down. Before the charges could even be brought against Marcel Brown in a court of law, the whole extradition had been overturned.

  The U
S District Attorney had refused to talk to his client about a deal that could implicate the leadership of the four other east coast gangs that were poised to absorb Brown’s connections and territory as well as several corrupt politicians and city officials, both stateside and on the island. Apparently, he’d felt that justice was served having caught Marcel. But everything had changed when the arrest had been declared unlawful and the case was being thrown out. The D.A. had come to Storm’s office stressed out and begging to talk to Brown.

  So, even as the State Department was announcing his release, Marcel was being ushered onto a plane bound for an unknown location somewhere in the ‘lower 48’. Witness protection and immunity from prosecution was exchanged for sworn testimony against more than twenty miscellaneous Americans involved in the decades-long criminal ring that Marcel had orchestrated from the island.

  Within 36 hours of the decision coming down from chambers for Marcel’s release, his client was safe and off to WITSEC and the money was in the bank. Storm McCoy couldn’t believe how the case of his career had turned into a back room table negotiation and a prime example of how having more birds in the hand are always worth allowing one to fly the coop.

  It hadn’t been a long debriefing session. Everything had taken place at the US Marshals Service headquarters in Arlington, Virginia. From there Storm had called it a day and headed straight for his favorite hotel in New York City. It was his place of choice to detox after a big case before he could show his face back at the office or even face the solitude of his home in Brooklyn. Usually, it was because his cases tended to attract a lot of media attention and he needed to avoid the reporters camped out at both locations but this time he just didn’t feel ready to rejoin society; he wanted a day or two of complete solitude.