by K. T. Tomb
The problem with nearly everyone who played along the edge of the law or even crossed back and forth across that line, was that they thought they were clever enough to get away with it. Most would rationalize that as long as they didn’t step clear across the line and do something “truly criminal” they’d never be caught. If things grew too hot, they’d just get out. That’s probably why Kenneth hadn’t seemed to be a little more vigilant at home. The worst part about it all was how the innocent people around them always ended up as casualties as well.
It had been pretty hard on him to watch Curtis as he wandered through his father’s house, lost in his pain and the hundreds of questions that must have been assaulting him at every moment. It had been a pretty short visit and Curtis had wanted to leave. There was one thing that had registered with Romeo as he’d looked around during that short visit. The murders were definitely what he would have called “a statement.”
Trying to avoid being tied up in internal matters of the JDF, he had a lot of questions that he wanted to be answered about the murder of Kenneth Colton and his family. He’d ran his mind over a couple of theories, one of which had him wondering if Brown had gotten rid of Colton himself and used the JDF’s operations to help cover it up. God knew he had plenty of opportunities to buy off some soldiers or even plant some within the JDF. Hell, there were probably a few of them who had considered being on the other side of that barricade in the Inner City.
His second theory was the one that he had been nursing before arriving in Jamaica. This was the establishment of a rival. It was being called a new posse and seemed to be going under the name of Wyatt Earp. The use of that name was a statement of its own since the reputation of the old west sheriff was pretty much synonymous with violently establishing one’s authority. The killing was meant as a statement for the Boss, letting him know that they had taken over.
He hadn’t believed the perception that seemed to be running rampant; that the JDF had killed Colton. Their operations in the upscale communities had been clean, well-organized and disciplined; there didn’t seem to be any room for the kind of errors for which they were being accused. Besides those things, was the fact that the mother and daughter had been shot in the back of the head, execution style. That didn’t fit with a JDF operation.
His two theories had led him back to look at the site of the shooting and look around inside to see if there was even the slightest clue that would lead him toward who had made the hit. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but as he wandered around, each thing that he saw, as well as the overall picture, was reinforcing his belief that the new posse had been making a statement. He just wished that he had something to tie it all down, some solid evidence.
As he was wandering the site, his cell phone rang. The caller ID showed the number of the burner phone that had been given to Rufus. So, they had finally decided to call.
“Yeah,” he said gruffly.
“I thought you might like to know that the Boss is about to make a run for it,” the voice said.
“Who is this?” he asked, knowing full well he wouldn’t be given a straight answer.
“Someone who has an interest in seeing the Boss brought to justice.”
“I suppose your brand of justice was killing Rufus and Kenneth Colton.”
“You catch on quick, Romeo.” The man chuckled.
“What’s in it for you?”
“Ah, now you’re getting nosy,” he said. “You want the information or not?”
“What’s it gonna cost me?”
“Who said it has to cost you anything?”
“Nothing is free.”
“You’re a pretty smart man, Romeo. Maybe I’ll think of something later on. For now, if you happen to have some of your boys hangin’ around the Kingston Container Terminal out at the wharf later tonight, you’re probably going to find the Boss. If you don’t grab him tonight, you will never find him.”
“How do I know it’s not a trap?”
The question was lost to a dead phone line.
Could he risk believing that the call was legitimate? What if it was a trap? The Boss’ soldiers had already shown that they didn’t have any qualms about getting into a gun battle with the JDF and the police. And yet, what if the caller had been telling him the truth?
Jesus, Romeo, you must be out of your fucking mind.
He returned to his car and drove back to the U.S embassy. He hoped to hell he was doing the right thing.
Chapter Ten
Turned out the anonymous caller had been right.
The JDF had inserted men on the wharf and all around the container terminal just after dark. They had done extensive air surveillance beforehand and had made certain that they weren’t walking into a trap. Assured that the area was secure, the operation was set up.
The thinking was that worst case, they would come up empty; but best case, they would nab the Boss. After the bloody week that had just passed, they were willing to take a risk to bring things to an end.
Since Romeo had provided the tip that set up the show, he felt like he needed to be there. He was attached to a JDF assault team that was hidden among the shipping containers, waiting, when he heard a voice come over his ear piece announcing that a dark sedan was on the wharf.
As the car that was transporting Marcel Brown came to a stop among the containers, the team waited as the driver got out, moved toward one of the shipping containers, fiddled with the locks and opened it up. Once the door was open and the driver passed his eyes over what appeared to be empty docks, he returned to the car and opened the back door.
“Wait until we have confirmation,” the voice of the commander said.
Someone resembling Marcel Brown, but clean shaven and with longer hair, exited the back seat of the car along with two very attractive young ladies, dressed quite seductively. That fit Brown’s MO and Romeo was certain that the Boss had indeed arrived.
“I need a positive ID.” The commander’s voice broke in again.
“That’s him,” one of the team responded.
“Keep it clean and move in.”
It was only a matter of seconds before the Boss, his driver and his girls were shocked to discover that they were surrounded and froze with their hands very clearly in sight.
As another team took care of the take down, the team that Romeo was with moved toward the shipping container in case there was an unexpected surprise waiting for them in there. Calling out that the container was clear, the team formed a perimeter and waited in place.
After several minutes without any surprises, Romeo decided to take a look inside the shipping container himself.
The interior of the container had been customized and turned into a very plush studio apartment. All of the comforts of home were accounted for with furnishings and a flat-screen TV that made Romeo’s apartment look like a slum pad. It was well stocked with supplies and included a king-sized bed where he was sure the Boss was planning on spending a great deal of quality time with the two caramel-skinned beauties that he had in tow.
“This is quite a set up,” someone said, whistling softly when they saw the interior of the shipping container.
“Yeah,” he replied. “If I hadn’t been given that tip, he would have had a discreet and very comfortable ride to somewhere far away. We would never have had a clue where or how he disappeared .”
“I wonder why he didn’t come here earlier?”
“As bright as these guys are, they always seem to have an ego that makes them think that they’ll get away with everything. My guess is that he thought his guys would win the battle.”
“So what made him move now?”
“He was losing his team. The pressure was getting heavier.”
Romeo left the investigation of the shipping container and the cleanup to the JDF teams and caught a ride back to headquarters. The capture of Marcel “Moses” Brown, after so much drama had built up around it, had been pretty anticlimactic.
As much as it
had been a relief to finally have the Boss in custody, Romeo wasn’t able to relax. There were still too many loose ends to be tied up and there were still a lot of miles to be covered between Jamaica and DC. If what had taken place in Inner City was any indication of his support, there might even be a welcoming party when they arrived. He’d suggested as much to Robert already.
Romeo had gone to the hotel after the raid and attempted to sleep. He’d dozed, but he hadn’t really fallen off into a deep, restful sleep. When he looked over and saw the clock beside the bed turn to 6:00 a.m., he gave up and went to take a shower.
He’d arrived at the embassy early, even after a decent breakfast, and spent most of the morning in contact with the agency in DC. They were working out the details of the extradition and wanted him ready and fully briefed when it came time. Between calls, he sat back and tried to piece it all together.
“Romeo,” the intercom announced. “You’ve got a call on 2.”
“Romeo,” He said, after picking up the receiver and pressing the blinking button on the phone.
“The Boss says he wants to have a chat with you.”
“Alright,” he replied. “I’ll be down there in a little bit.”
An interesting turn of events.
He slipped on his jacket and started out the door.
***
With Marcel Brown in custody, things had become extremely complicated.
The elections were coming up and Brown had promised that he would deliver all of the votes in the bay area. It was enough to make a huge difference, but he was no longer guaranteed those votes. The “new sheriff” had promised them to him also, but he wasn’t sure that he trusted him yet.
Worse, by far, was the chance that Marcel Brown would tell all. He had already gotten word that when Rufus Colton was alive, he had become an FBI informant. On the heels of that, he had learned that the FBI was sniffing around some of his interests; especially some of the ones that lingered around the edge of shady. The closer they got, the more nervous he had become. Capturing Brown had been the last straw.
The scotch and Rolaids hadn’t helped for several days; actually, they’d never helped. His stomach was continually churning with acid that was eating its way toward an ulcer if he didn’t have one already. Things had been in the shitter with his wife for quite some time and though he had enjoyed the company of some lovely, young ladies while he was away from home, he hadn’t been able to keep an erection long enough to get himself off. In a nutshell, his life had turned sour really fast.
The steady, downhill decline had made him wonder if it was all worth it. Where he had once been able to look the other way when people died as a result of his shady dealings or in order for them to take place, it had now begun to eat away at his conscience. The massacre of Brown’s accountant, and his wife and daughter, had weighed heavier than all of them. His wife and daughter; executed? That’s on me.
If Brown talked, he’d go to prison, pure and simple. How would he deal with prison life? He’d done a stint in the army when he was younger and had absolutely hated every minute of it. Being told what to do and how to do it didn’t work for him. Prison would be worse than the army multiplied by ten.
After the family in Kingston had been slaughtered, he’d begun to consider a more permanent solution to the constant stress that had overtaken his life. He slipped open the drawer in his desk and looked down at the stainless steel 9 mm pistol waiting for him. With just one quick pull of the trigger, he’d be free from it all.
He took hold of the grip and raised it up out of the drawer. He considered the only options that he had left as he turned the gun over in his hand, able to view his reflection in its silver finish. What would it be like to die? Would it be painful or would he even feel the bullet ripping through his flesh?
He realized that he wasn’t afraid to die. In reality, he was more afraid of living and tired of the constant pain and guilt. As he looked at the gun, he felt a certain amount of peace with the idea of ending it all. It could all be left behind for someone else to clean up.
In that moment of peace, he placed the barrel under his chin and touched his finger softly on the trigger. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and squeezed.
***
“You the one that turned Rufus?” Marcel asked.
“Yes,” Romeo replied. He waited for Brown. The Boss had called the meeting, let him do the talking. “He’d probably still be alive if your posse hadn’t grabbed him. Kenneth and his family too.”
Brown was trying to stay calm, but Romeo could read the conflict in his eyes.
“I think they might have gotten to them anyway.”
“They? As in Wyatt Earp?”
“You picked that up did you?”
“Yes, who is he?”
“I don’t know, but somebody ratted me out and tipped you off about the shipping container. Has to be somebody close to me.”
“You give me a list of names and I’ll start hunting.”
“Nice try. I’ll want a deal first.”
“I’m not in a position to make a deal. How about you tell me which governor is backing you and where the leak in the FBI is? You can make your deals with the others.”
It was worth a shot.
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why did you want to talk to me?”
“Are you the one who’s going to take me to Washington?”
“Yes.” With the coldest glare he could muster, he looked directly into Brown’s eyes. “I’ll have my pistol barrel pressed against your skull when we step off the plane too, so, if your posse has something planned, just remember that I’m a nervous flier and my finger will probably be a little shaky by the time we finally land.”
“It’s not my posse that I’m worried about.”
“Here’s a little piece of information for you. As far as I’m concerned, Wyatt Earp would be doing the taxpayers a favor if one of them put a bullet in your head.”
He was interrupted by his cell phone ringing.
“Romeo.”
“Hey, I’ve got some news for you. We found our politician. The governor. He was found dead in his office this morning. Put a bullet in his own head.” Robert said on the other end of the line.
“Well, that solves that mystery then.”
“Got any leads on Wyatt Earp?”
“I was hoping to get that information right now. I’m in a meeting with the Boss as we speak.”
“He want to deal?”
“No, just wants to run his mouth a little. He doesn’t have anything to say.”
He glared at Brown as he spoke. To his credit, Brown didn’t squirm like most; just looked back at him with tired eyes.
“We’re putting together a team for the reception.”
“I’ll call you about that when we get closer to leaving.”
“Sounds good. You be careful. Escorting Brown, you’ve got a bull’s-eye painted on your back.”
“Gotcha.”
He disconnected the call and looked at his phone, waiting a couple of seconds before speaking.
“Whatever support you were hoping to get from the governor is gone. Shot himself in the head this morning.”
Brown didn’t respond, but Romeo could tell that the weight of taking the entire rap on his own shoulders was not a pleasing thought.
Romeo started to tell him that he could spread some of that guilt out over a lot of people if he’d cough up some names, but decided he’d just let Brown sweat. Romeo could wait. He slid his chair back and left the room without looking back.
Chapter Eleven
CNN Wire Staff
June 3, 2010
HEADLINE: Marcel Brown Expected to Arrive in US
After a bloody week in Jamaica which left 76 persons dead, the US will finally get its wish as Marcel “Moses” Brown is expected to be released into the custody of US FBI agents.
Though there was initially some resistance from the Jamaican legal system, Brown has waived his ri
ght to an extradition hearing which allowed him to be transferred over to FBI custody. Sources tell us that the FBI will waste little time transporting him the moment they have him in custody. The US Attorney issued a statement earlier in which he said, “Marcel Brown is scheduled to arrive at Washington Dulles International later this week and he will be transported to a holding cell in the city, after which, he will be taken to the Federal courthouse for arraignment on gun and drug trafficking charges. We are relieved that Brown’s arrest was not marked by additional violence like that which gripped the streets of Jamaica for so many days,” he said. “We hope that there is no further violence involved when he is transferred to Washington and look forward to presenting our case to a jury in a United States courtroom and bringing Brown to justice.”
***
“We’re not there yet, Mr. Brown,” Romeo said as he strapped the body armor and helmet onto the Boss’s body. “Regardless of whether it’s your posse or their posse, bullets don’t discriminate.”
Brown hadn’t been too happy about being dressed in the armor and helmet, but after Romeo’s explanation, he accepted his fate with a grim expression. Although he wasn’t necessarily fond of Romeo, he believed that his best chance of survival was to go along with the man who would likely be his best protection during transport.
“If your posse has a plan set up to try to spring you, now is the time to let us know so that we can have a better chance of protecting you.”
“I’ve issued no request for them to engage the FBI.”
“Hmmm.” Romeo wasn’t satisfied. Brown had lied and manipulated his way to the top of a drug and gun trafficking ring and wasn’t exactly someone that he felt inclined to believe. He’d hoped that the body armor and the little chat would scare the Boss enough to shake loose some information. Seeing that it didn’t work, he donned his own body armor and helmet along with the rest of the team.