by K. T. Tomb
God knows that civil unrest in Kingston would be a recipe for disaster right now, she thought. The last thing we need at the organization is a slew of human rights violation cases against the fucking armed forces. Legal Aid is just about ready to file a damn restraining order against us for the number of requests we have been sending them recently with the campaign against sexual and domestic abuse now in full swing.
She sighed and went to sit at her little desk in the study which she shared with her husband and leaned back to look at the view from the huge picture window. It was true. If too much came out of the unrest in the city, they would have their plates full for sure.
She picked up the phone and dialed her neighbor’s number. It rang twice before Dawn Jackson answered.
“Hey there! How are you this morning?” Dawn asked cheerfully. “What are you still doing at home? Shouldn’t you be gone with the girls and Matthew already?”
“I kept Matt home today; he’s still in bed and the girls went with Michael.”
“What happened? Is the little angel sick?”
“Oh, no! Nothing like that, love,” Carla replied. “There’s a travel advisory issued on the island because of the disturbances in the downtown area. I figure they think it will escalate so I decided to stay home and get some things done in case we can’t get down off the hill for a while.”
“I heard that on the news this morning too; you may be on to something. I got the generator filled up last week, but I was supposed to have gone grocery shopping yesterday. I didn’t feel up to it.”
“You’d better get that done this morning,” Carla advised. “But that’s not why I called you. I wanted to find out how many hours you and the other partners at your firm have logged for pro bono work this quarter. I may need to call in some favors from all my lawyer friends for the rest of this year. Legal Aid has me on lockdown; apparently, I am overburdening them with the pursuit of justice for Jamaicans.”
Dawn laughed. She knew how tenacious her friend could be when trying to get her clients the help they needed when they needed it. She also knew that the public defender’s office was always stretched.
“I’m sure we haven’t logged any all year, Carla. I can tentatively promise you all the man hours I’ve got in that respect. I’m sure the other partners will agree that it’s easier working with an organization like yours in that regard. We don’t have to keep track of the time spent with every single case and client and when audit time comes, we can just point them to you.”
“Oh, jeez. Thanks a lot, Dawn.”
“Hey, one hand washes the other, right?”
“It sure does. Tell Ricardo I said Hello; I don’t ever get to see him these days.”
They both laughed and Carla thanked her friend for her generosity before shooing her off to do her much needed grocery shopping, and then hanging up the phone.
It’s so nice to have great neighbors who are also fantastic friends, Carla thought. When all the hubbub is over, I’m going to throw us all a big barbecue by the pool. I’m sure we will all need a break by then.
Chapter One
“Ah, what you say to me, man?”
“I can’t do it, Rufus.” Agent Romeo Moore replied, almost pleading. “That’s what we in law enforcement call obstruction of justice.”
“Jah know, Star,” Rufus continued as if he had not heard a word the agent had just said to him. “Me can’t get deported, man.”
“Be that as it may, your deportation has already been sanctioned and processed,” Romeo said, “and it’s your own damn fault too!”
“What dat supposed to mean?” Rufus asked him with a suspicious look in his eyes. “Me tell you a’ready. Man I'm no informer. Me not say a ting… ‘bout nothin’.”
With a grave expression, Romeo shook his head and stood up from the interview table.
“Then there’s nothing I can do to help you.”
Rufus hissed through his teeth loudly as Agent Moore walked to the door of the interrogation room. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, then turned back to face his countryman.
“Rufus, is that your final answer?” Romeo asked, quoting the popular TV show catchphrase.
“You already hear what mi have to say. Right, Mr. Agent Romeo Moore? Me never stutter!”
Romeo narrowed his eyes at the man’s cynical remarks for a moment. Then he had an idea.
“I have something to show you. I think it’s important that you see the news before you make your final decision.”
“Da news?” Rufus asked.
“Oh yes, Rufus, my man,” Romeo replied with a wicked grin plastered all over his face. “Did you hear me stutter?”
Rufus blanched at the quick turnaround of his own mocking remark and frowned at the agent.
Romeo signaled to someone behind the one-way glass and a moment later, the flat screen television on the wall flickered to life. The day’s weather report was wrapping up on CNN and soon they went over to the international news. Rufus’ face fell immediately. The headline story featured images of Jamaica Defense Force (JDF) soldiers and officers of the Jamaica Constabulary Force (JCF) engaging in a heated gunfire exchange with gunmen in an inner-city community. The streets were littered with debris and were completely blocked in some places by overturned vehicles, piles of old furniture and trees. Army jeeps and other heavy equipment were being shown mounting an effort to clear blocked roads, even as the personnel operating them came under heavy gunfire from criminal elements. Bullet-riddled multistory housing buildings were on fire and every few seconds, an image of a street with bodies lying dead in it would flash across the screen.
“Bumboclaat! Dem goin' fo’ di Don, fo’ true?”
“Yes, Rufus,” Romeo said, slowly taking a seat in the chair across from him. “As of yesterday morning, West Kingston is a war-zone. The city is under curfew to prevent the spread of violence outside the garrisons and all of the ‘Don’s’ neighborhoods have been completely locked down. US forces are on the ground, surveillance units as well. Basically, no one is leaving until they capture him and extradite him back to the States.”
“Romeo,” Rufus said, shaking his head in terror, “you can’t sen’ me back now. You mad! Either police or posse will kill me if me go back deh.”
“You see, all that is up to you now, Rufus,” Romeo replied with a sly smile forming at the corner of his lips. “You can tell us what you know; what we need to know, and we will put you in federal protective custody or you can keep saying ‘Man I'm no informer’ and we’ll take you straight over to the INS detention center right now. You’ll be on a plane to Jamaica just as soon as the Kingston airport reopens.”
“A’right, a’right Romeo, don’t be like dat,” Rufus said in a soothing tone as if he had become somewhat desperate to placate the FBI agent. “Me goin' ta tell you everything when you want to know but you have to do one ting fo’ me.”
Romeo laughed and shook his head disbelievingly.
“You don’t have any more chips to bargain with, Rufus. I don’t think we can make a better deal than this.”
Rufus leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and smiled knowingly at Romeo Moore. A moment or two passed between the two before he said anything to the agent.
“A Brown’s Town your people come from, no?” Rufus asked, but it was obvious he was making a statement of fact.
Romeo’s eyes widened in surprise. Rufus sat up and his whole demeanor seemed to change.
“Rufus, what the hell has that got to do with anything that we’re discussing here?” Romeo asked the detainee.
But he knew exactly what Rufus was alluding to. It wasn’t the safest situation that his family in Jamaica was in when they were being referred to by a member of the Browns’ posse. Usually, when gangsters commented about where your family members resided, it was a threat that they were willing to carry out on them if they didn’t get their way. Romeo resented the brazen, albeit delicate threat.
“I want you and those monkeys behind that on
e-way glass to understand one thing.” Rufus had suddenly dropped the patois dialect of the island and now spoke to them in perfect, though heavily-accented, English. “I know more things than you can dream of ever needing to know. In other words, I have all your answers and much, much more. You’ve got me in a corner now, so I have to answer your questions and I will. But when it comes to all the things that you don’t even know to ask about, I’ve got a few requests before I start to tell you about those.”
Instinctively, Moore looked at the dark surface of the one-way glass then back at Rufus. He sighed, and then finally responded to the man.
“Tell me your demands.”
“There’s a man in Kingston that you need to save. He’s a very valuable witness in this whole thing and he can corroborate everything I have to tell you. He has the paperwork in his possession, even though in some instances, he might not know exactly what it is that he has. You’ve got to find him and get him out. Fast.”
Rufus paused to shake his head shamefully.
“From what I just saw on the TV, the shit has hit the fucking fan and they’ll be going after him quickly. Get him out and I will tell you everything.”
“Who is he?” Romeo asked, honestly curious.
“His name is Kenneth Colton. He is the Boss’ bookkeeper, and my brother.”
Chapter Two
THE JAMAICA GLEANER
May 24, 2010
HEADLINE: Attack On State—Police Stations Set Ablaze, Cop Shot, Civilian Slain
Violence rocked sections of the Kingston corporate area all day yesterday, as armed men brazenly took on the security forces in a sustained attack on police stations in anticipation of the apprehension of Inner City don, Marcel ‘Moses’ Brown. Four police stations came under attack; a civilian succumbed to gunshot wounds during an assault on the Fletcher’s Land Police Station; and a policeman sustained a minor gunshot injury.
The Prime Minister said last night that two members of the security forces had been injured, but The Gleaner could not confirm the second case.
There were indications before dawn broke that something was afoot—five days after the court issued a warrant for Brown’s arrest.
The Police Commissioner said yesterday that the security forces would respond in an appropriate manner. “It is now clear that criminal elements are determined to launch coordinated attacks on the security forces,” he said in a statement. “The JCF wishes to advise the public that these attacks are unprovoked and coincide with our efforts to lawfully serve the public,” he added.
The Prime Minister has condemned the ‘calculated assault on the authority of the state’ and vowed that the security forces will use deadly force in a limited state of public emergency to counter thugs who have wreaked havoc on the capital.
“Let us make no mistake. The threats that have emerged to the safety and security of our people will be repelled with strong and decisive action. This will be a turning point for us as a nation to confront the powers of evil that have penalized the society and earned us the unenviable label as one of the murder capitals of the world. We must confront this criminal element with determination and unlimited resolve.”
The government yesterday declared a state of public emergency for the parishes of Kingston and St Andrew as tension mounted in the Jamaican capital. The state of emergency will remain in place for one month and may be adjusted by Parliament.
Meanwhile, the Commissioner of Police said security forces will respond with appropriate action. He said that images of barricades and other defensive positions, together with credible intelligence, indicate that scores of criminals from several gangs across the island have joined criminal elements in the Inner City.
***
“Brother Ken,” the Boss said calmly into the phone, “I’m sending Lasco and JJ over to your office this evening to pick up some cash.
There was a short pause before the man on the other end of the line replied.
“How much do they need, Don?”
“A million.”
“I have it, Boss. You can feel free to send them for it any time after six. Lasco knows the procedure well enough, but I don’t know this JJ guy at all.”
“I know how it is, Ken. I’ll be sure to tell him to hang back and let Lasco handle things.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“They ran me out of the community, brother. I don’t have any protection from the massive anymore. I’m even more dependent on the boys now and we both know that some of them aren’t too bright.”
“Do you need me to make a few calls for you? Get them to back off a little bit?”
“You never disappoint me; I knew you would offer to help me out. But who are you going to call, Ken? No. I appreciate the effort, but I have no favors left. This is bigger than any of our friends. They delayed as long as they could and all it did was make the US angrier at them. In the end, even the top dog had to shut his mouth and allow the court to issue the warrant for my arrest. The army is out of Up Park Camp and nobody can make them stand down without arousing suspicion. I understand that I’m on my own with this now; I just need some cash to keep things running smoothly. I think I might go down to the country for a while, but they already raided all the family houses and I doubt I can just check into a Sandals Resort.” He laughed.
“I understand fully, but you know you can call me for anything. They don’t have anything to link us and I have nothing to fear.”
“You are the best I have down here, Ken. You and your brother have always made my life so much easier.”
“Speaking of Rufus, have you heard anything, Boss? The last time I spoke to him, he was worried that the authorities were catching on to him. You know how scared he is of being sent back to Jamaica. He doesn’t even call anyone here if he doesn’t have to.”
“He has a right to be worried, so don’t hold that against him. But I don’t have any news for you, unfortunately. My communication with the posse on the East Coast has been compromised for weeks; I don’t dare place a call out on any of our phone lines for fear of wiretaps. I’ve only been using these prepaid phones that the guys got because nobody can trace them and still I try to be careful.”
“Well, let me not keep you, Boss. Just try to keep your spirits up. This stuff always blows over with a little time. They’re just trying to keep international relations going and drum up some votes by making it look like they’re doing something for the country.”
“It’s true. It always blows over eventually. Take care, Brother Ken.”
With that, the line went dead.
***
Where’s that goddamn van? Romeo thought as he stood outside 26 Federal Plaza in Manhattan, New York.
Rory ‘Rufus’ Colton had just been processed by Protective Services and was scheduled for transport to a safe house where he would be placed in protective custody until his brother was delivered to the FBI and agreed to testify against Marcel Brown.
Marcel had been a thorn in the side of law enforcement on the east coast for the better part of two decades; heading up one of the most notorious gangs in United States history. They were aggressive and resilient in their bid for territory in which to distribute the massive amounts of marijuana and cocaine they had coming in from the Caribbean and, as they gained footing in New York and New Jersey, they also became known for their crude and vicious techniques of eradicating their competition.
But Marcel had remained virtually untouchable, keeping a low profile and high security around him as he remained entrenched in his home community in Inner City, Kingston. He preferred to send out others to do his dirty work and he did so very effectively through enforcers and soldiers who ran his operations in every major city up and down the eastern seaboard.
Drugs, guns, extortion, you name it; Marcel Brown had a finger in it all without ever entering the US for any extended period of time. That was why it had been so hard for the authorities to get their hands on him. How could they? He was safely tucked away in one of th
e most volatile neighborhoods in the world.
The people he lived among worshiped him, defended him, and relied on him for support. Known on the streets by monikers such as “Moses” and “Kingpin,” his operation transported drugs from Jamaica to major American cities, sold them for massive profits and purchased weapons on the black market to export back to his native country. Brown used his criminal wealth and prosperity to win the hearts of the people residing in his community and influence their political affiliations. Such power propelled him from a ‘don’ to a political pawn, and when the United States government attempted to have the beloved gangster extradited, a civil war broke out to protect him.
But Moore knew that no matter what happened in Jamaica, Brown was going to be brought back to the US in cuffs to answer to the racketeering, conspiracy and assault charges that the State Attorney General had laid against him, even if they couldn’t prosecute him for the drug trafficking and murders that he had instructed his posse members to commit.
A few moments later, a black, armored panel van pulled up in front of Romeo and he pulled the handle and slid the door open. He quickly checked the inside of the vehicle and brought his right wrist to his mouth.
“All clear for detainee transport at the Plaza exit,” he announced, and just as he finished his announcement, four men dressed in black suits and dark glasses quickly ushered someone dressed in a denim jumpsuit with a black sack over his head out from the building and into the waiting van. They stood back from the door, keeping watch on the surroundings while Agent Moore joined his witness. Two of the escorting agents stepped inside and took their seats as the door was pushed shut.
“Are we all clear?” the driver asked over an intercom.
“All clear!” Romeo replied and the vehicle sped away from the building.
Romeo heaved a sigh of relief and leaned back in the seat, taking a long look at Rufus’ hooded head.