Thrills

by K. T. Tomb

  “But why kill the wife and kid?”

  “Yeah, that’s where things get weird.”

  “Anybody buying the story?”

  “That’s all I know at this point. What do you think it is? You think his own people took him out and are using the JDF for cover? You know there’s corrupt shit going on all over the place down there.”

  “That’s possible. They might be tying up loose ends, or maybe the rival gang got to him.” A thought suddenly hit him. What if the Boss discovered that Rufus had informed on him? That would explain both Rufus and Kenneth (aka Ricardo) being eliminated. If that was true, then how did they know…? “It might mean that there’s a bigger problem.”

  “What kind of problem?”

  “A leak in the agency.”

  Robert’s face went cold and he stared at Romeo, waiting, though it was obvious his mind was already drawing some of its own conclusions.

  “Someone knew I was transporting Rufus. Maybe that someone also knew what Rufus told me.”

  “Or they made the connection somehow when we started digging to find Jackson and put together the team to extract him. Shit!”

  His eyes turned away and he sucked on his teeth as he contemplated the possibility.

  “What do you want to bet, the mysterious governor and the leak are connected?” Romeo ventured.

  “I don’t like that bet.”

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes as each of them allowed their minds to start chasing down the myriad of connected thoughts that seemed to be tangled together and wrapped intricately around each other.

  “What are you going to do when you get to Atlanta?” Robert asked.

  “I figure that Curtis is either distantly connected or completely innocent. I have to flush out which is true. In any case, it seems to me that it’s only a matter of time before he’s next.”

  There was another long silence.

  “You find anything else on those tapes?”

  “Something about Wyatt Earp.”

  “That doesn’t sound helpful.” Robert chuckled. “Damned strange name. Is it code?”

  “Yeah, I think that’s how they are referring to the new posse.”

  “Why would they have a code for a new posse? You’d think they’d want to draw attention to their rivals and hope that we catch on. They have to know that we’re listening to them, right?”

  “If I was a betting man I would say that they don’t know who they are.”

  The driver drove them straight to the FBI chopper pad and Romeo gathered his things to get out of the SUV.

  “You goin’ down there?” Robert asked before Romeo could close the door.

  Romeo knew he was referring to Jamaica.

  “I don’t know yet,” Romeo replied. He closed the door. “I’ll call you.” He patted down his pockets again. Yeah. He had his phone. He turned and started toward the FBI helicopter. Its blades were beginning to wind up as the pilot saw him coming toward the aircraft.

  ***

  The Boss saw the bright, smiling faces of Ricardo Jackson and his family on TV and it sent a cold chill through him.

  Things had turned sour quickly. Rufus was dead and so was Kenneth. It was possible that the first had informed the FBI about his operation already. If that was true, he would have had to eliminate him anyway; Kenneth also. It was a shame, too; they had been friends since they were kids. But why did they have to kill the wife and kid?

  He’d calmed down since the phone call, but he hadn’t slept all night. He spent the entire night waiting for someone to bring him some answers. When he finally got them, he didn’t like what he heard. It had definitely been the kind of statement that a new posse would make when they felt like they were in a position to take over.

  He hadn’t been happy about the prospect of Kenneth being taken by the FBI, but that was better than what had happened. Kenneth never deserved to be gunned down the way he was and neither had his wife and kid; especially his wife and kid. He wasn’t squeamish at all when it came to taking care of business and making sure that everyone stayed in line, but with the kind of statement that had been made and the standoff his soldiers were having with the police, JDF and God knows who else, he was beginning to feel a little bit cramped.

  A special place had been prepared and kept secret for just such an occasion and he was beginning to think that it was time to make use of it while he worked on putting all of the pieces together on Wyatt Earp. Damn, that is a stupid name. Letting things settle down a bit with the FBI wouldn’t hurt either. He had an escape plan in order that was ingenious. The only part that was even partially exposed in his plan was the movement from his home to the special transport that was waiting for him.

  Once he was inside his transport, no one would know where he was and where he was going. He would be dropped off at a seaport and transported to his backup hideout and nobody would have any idea where he went or how he got there. The money thing was going to be a problem with Kenneth gone, but he’d figure things out. He had a stash to get him by until he was safe.

  ***

  Curtis had packed quickly and was carrying the very minimum that he could get away with for a few days stay.

  He wasn’t sure what he was going to do or what he was going to discover. If his father actually was connected with Marcel Brown, then he would probably be detained for questioning. It was an uncomfortable thought, but he had absolutely nothing to hide and had never had any knowledge of any of his dad’s work, when it came right down to it. He knew that he was an accountant and had done fairly well for himself, but beyond that, he really hadn’t pried into his father's business affairs.

  He did know that his father and uncle had both had their names changed before his dad had gone to college in the States. That had been when he’d gotten a girlfriend pregnant and along came Curtis. Later on, when he told Curtis about it, his dad had made him swear that he would never reveal anything regarding that to his second wife, Dawn, or their daughter, Cynthia. Not really wanting to know too many details, he’d avoided any conversation about it and tried to keep his distance from his father as best he could. Was all of it because he was connected to Marcel Brown in some way?

  He went to the Delta check-in counter and went through the express line because he only had his carry-on case with him. He exchanged his electronic ticket for the boarding pass and started for the security checkpoint.

  Curtis received a strange look when he presented his passport and ticket to the agent at the first station. The agent pulled the handset from below her station and spoke into it quickly before replacing it and then smiled at him.

  “Would you step over here for a moment, sir?”

  Confused, he slowly moved over to the place beside the small podium that she had indicated.

  “Is there a problem ma’am?”

  He couldn’t think of any problems. His passport was up-to-date and he’d just picked up his ticket. He could think of no reason to be detained. When he looked up, a dark-haired man in a dark suit was accompanying another TSA officer and looking at him as they approached.

  “Curtis Colton?” the man in the dark suit asked.

  “Yes?”

  He swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

  “I’m Special Agent Romeo Moore of the FBI. Would you come with me, please?”

  The man flashed a badge and an FBI ID at him, giving him just enough time to see the bold print that backed up his claim.

  “Okay, sure, is there a problem?” he asked as he stepped in front of the agent and followed the TSA officer to a door off to the side of the security checkpoint. Receiving no answer to his question, his mind began to race forward. They must have made the connection between him and his father. He had really expected the questions to start once he arrived in Jamaica, not before he even got out of Atlanta. Even for the FBI, he thought that the connection had been made awfully fast.

  Once inside the small office, the TSA officer left him alone with Agent Moore, who
motioned him to have a seat.

  “Sit, please.”

  “First of all, Mr. Colton,” the agent began, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, sir,” he replied. Could he relax a little bit? After all, interrogations didn’t start with “I’m sorry for your loss,” right?

  “Mr. Colton, I have some rather embarrassing news for you.”

  Curtis hoped that they were confessing that they made a mistake in the identification of the dead family in Kingston. But would the FBI be the ones to handle that? No, wait, he had already sympathized for his loss, so that wasn’t it. His mind was scrambled and being detained at a TSA checkpoint by the FBI wasn’t helping him any. He waited while the agent searched for the right words.

  “We had prepared a team of agents to extract your father and his family from their home and have them put into protective custody; however, as you must already know because of the news, we did not get there in time. The team was going to move in tonight when your father came home from work and move them under the cover of darkness.

  “I had been assigned to come find you and make certain that you were also safe and let you know what was taking place with your father and his family. For obvious reasons, those plans did not take place the way that we had hoped. We are not entirely certain what happened at this point, but we have reason to believe that your father and your uncle were connected to Marcel Brown.”

  The agent paused and looked at him intently. Curtis felt like the man’s eyes were piercing into his soul and trying to undo every secret he’d ever had. The long pause made him uncomfortable and he began to wish that he was somewhere else.

  “Obviously you know that your father had his name changed. We believe that he assumed his new identity to remain anonymous as he worked within Marcel Brown’s organization. What can you tell us about that?”

  “Not much, really.” He had to clear his throat, the lump made it very difficult for him to speak. “He changed his name earlier in his life, even before my mother was murdered. That was even before I came into the picture; I was just a baby when she died.” He tried to keep his voice from trembling as he spoke. He was innocent, he had to keep that in mind and not allow the agent to intimidate him. Easier said than done.

  “Given the fact that your father was in need of our protection, we can offer that same courtesy to you, if you would like. I honestly don’t know what might be waiting for you in Kingston, but you are not under any obligation to accept that protection nor are you being detained, though we would like you to stay in touch with us.”

  “I understand, sir,” he replied. He relaxed slightly when the agent let him know that he was not being detained.

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “I had hoped to go tend to my father’s…” The words stuck in his throat. “My father’s affairs.”

  “Understood.” Agent Moore glanced at his watch and then suddenly started patting over his pockets until he found his cell phone. He slipped it out, punched a number and then waited.

  “It’s Romeo,” he said into the receiver. “Can you get me on the flight to Jamaica?”

  There was a pause.

  “Yes, we’ve already spoken.”

  Another pause.

  “No, I don’t think so. He is planning to take care of his father’s affairs.”

  The final pause was much longer.

  “Okay, I will advise him of those things. Yeah, sounds like one hell of a mess. I’ll call you when I’m in Kingston.”

  The agent hung up his phone and slipped it back into his inside jacket pocket. He stepped out of the room for a moment and then came back in with the TSA officer.

  “This officer will take care of your security search and send you on your way. My people will be waiting for me when we land. I can offer you a ride into the city if you like. Maybe some of them can answer any questions you might have.”

  “Thank you, Agent.”

  “Right this way, sir,” the TSA officer said, taking over and guiding him out of the office. He put him in a small booth where another agent ran a wand over his body while the officer carried his bag to place it on the X-ray conveyor. By the time the agent with the wand was finished, the other officer returned with his bag.

  Questions began to bombard him again as he slipped the strap of the bag over his shoulder and started into the main atrium that led to concourse F and his flight gate.

  Chapter Nine

  Marcel knew that time was beginning to run out on him.

  He hadn’t been able to truly relax since Kenneth had been killed. To make matters worse, he wasn’t sure whether he was more worried about: the FBI or Wyatt Earp. The FBI knew way too much for him to be able to escape capture much longer. Whoever was trying to take over seemed to have been able to penetrate his sources of information as well. For all he knew, his connection to the governor was compromised. It was time to make a run for it and sort things out from his hideout.

  “Lasco,” he called to his closest adviser. “We need to talk.”

  Lasco sent JJ and the others away and slipped into the private office along with his boss. “What’s up, boss?”

  “We need to implement plan B.”

  “Plan B, Boss? Are you sure?”

  He’d instructed Lasco on the first phase of the plan before and Lasco was the only one who knew about it. But Lasco only knew the initial stage and he had been instructed to wait until he was contacted after the Boss was gone for further instructions.

  “You think things are that bad?” Lasco asked.

  “It’s perfect timing, actually. While everyone is busy trying to smoke me out of here, I’ll just slip away and no one will know where I disappeared to.”

  He considered things for a moment.

  “Get JJ and the others to tighten things up here, and then go on the offensive. Attack another one of the police stations or hit their barricade lines or something. That will keep everyone’s eyes turned in that direction while I slip out the back door.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight.”

  “Got it.”

  Lasco turned to leave.

  “Hey,” he called out as Lasco was leaving the office. “Get those two gorgeous Colombians ready to go with me. I might want some company.”

  “Excellent choice.”

  Lasco smiled as he turned around in the doorway. He sounded like a waiter complimenting him on his wine selection.

  ***

  The net was closing tighter around Marcel Brown's neck and the governor was worried.

  Worse yet, he wasn’t sure if the new gang that was moving in to take over could be trusted. He’d had a connection to Brown which had been formed through a family tie that went back to Brown’s father. Though he’d never fully trusted either of them, there was at least something comfortable about the older relationship.

  He’d become increasingly uncomfortable after the “statement” that was made by killing Ricardo Jackson and his family. He had squirmed all through the phone call that came early Friday morning telling him to check out the “statement” that had been made in Kingston.

  “New sheriff and new posse, Governor,” the caller had said just before disconnecting.

  He’d watched CNN, horrified that he might somehow be connected to it all. The money and power had seemed worth it, initially, but he was playing a deadly game that had started to become extremely distasteful to him. As the noose continued to tighten around Brown, he was certain that it was only a matter of time before Marcel was captured and extradited to the US.

  He’d tried to keep the Jamaican Prime Minister stirred up and doing his best at preventing the extradition, but since the leader had started to come under fire, the governor had to back away in order to prevent being perceived as being connected with him. Brown’s extradition would spell the end of him. Once in FBI custody, Brown would sing like a canary; there was no doubt about it. He would have nothing left to lose and everything to gain if he played his cards right.
Brown and his attorney would be working every angle in order to cut a deal, and his name would certainly be mentioned.

  Would the new sheriff and new posse be able to keep him from being dragged down along with Brown? Would they just trade him in and start making a deal with someone else? The questions had hammered away at him day and night for over a week when he realized that the FBI had become very serious about capturing Brown.

  When he’d learned that Rufus Colton had been turned, he had wondered if the agency would be knocking on his door and asking questions. His asset in the agency hadn’t tipped him off to any information obtained from Colton that would compromise him, but he still hadn’t been able to rest easy.

  With the death of Rufus Colton, he began to feel like he had dodged a bullet, but there had been little relief in it for him. Rolaids weren’t really cutting it anymore, but he kept chewing them anyway and started chasing them with two fingers of a single malt scotch that helped to calm his nerves.

  He pulled open his desk drawer and fingered the 9mm stainless steel Glock. It wasn’t quite time for that yet, was it? He pushed the drawer closed and tried to refocus himself. He had a meeting with a state senator in fifteen minutes. He got up from his chair and went into his private bathroom.

  Splashing water on his face and looking at the deep lines of worry that had begun to show more prominently in recent months, he worked on getting himself composed.

  “It will all blow over,” he whispered to himself.

  ***

  Romeo had gone with Curtis to his father’s home on Saturday, somewhat out of curiosity, but mostly because he had started to like the kid.

  His dad and uncle might have been mixed up in Brown’s organization, but as far as Romeo could tell, Curtis was completely innocent. Romeo didn’t doubt that Kenneth had done his best to protect his son, but he wondered why he hadn't protected his new wife and daughter better.