by Foye, K'wan
"This is some bull shit." one of the boys spat.
"Hey, hey," Roc interrupted, "Don't give me bullshit my friend. All you little punks around here know Anwar's rule about weapons in his places. Now you all run along. If you don't cause anymore trouble, I might return your guns when the store clos-es...maybe."
"Come on, Roc," the boy protested further, "you know us, man."
"Yes," Roc said very calmly, "that's the reason I'm having Hassan take your weapons, and not your lives. Now run along, children." The boys lowered their heads and slunk out of the store.
Everyone relaxed after the last of the boys had left the store.
"What was that shit about, Roc?" Gutter asked.
"Nothing for you to worry about, Kenyatta," said Roc.
"They're just children. We Al Mukalla keep the peace here. No one would violate a guest of ours, no matter what personal con-flicts exist between your factions.
Roc made his way to the front of the store and stared out the window. "You see that?" he asked motioning towards a play-ground across the street. "That is 'Mukalla Park.' It was built and funded by us. The Al Mukalla.
"Even though we built it, the park is open to all. Children of all races and colors come here to play in safety. We guard it 24/
with hidden cameras and constant patrols. In that park, no one is allowed to sell or use drugs. The penalty for violating the rule is death. The children are the future of us all, so we must ensure that they grow to fruition."
"That's deep." Lou-loc commented.
"That's Mukalla." Roc responded. "We are about the better-ment of our people as well as those in our community. Allah has been good to us, and it is only fair that we spread the love to those around us."
"I can respect your gangster, Roc," Lou-loc said.
"And I yours." Roc responded.
"So what's good, Roc?" Gutter interrupted. "I been looking forward to this gathering for some time now. I'm ready to do the damn thing."
"Easy, Gutter," Roc said patting his shoulder, "Anwar is waiting for us in his war room. Before we go to join him, I would ask you also to remove your weapons?"
"What's all this shit about?" Lou-loc asked looking at Gutter.
"After what just went down, I'm keeping my strap right the fuck here."
Roc and Lou-loc stared each other down for a moment.
Neither men wanted to give ground, but this meeting was in both their best interest. Roc finally broke the silence.
"No disrespect to you," he said looking Lou-loc square in the eye, "but it is the policy of our war room. It keeps negotiations from becoming, how do you say...unpleasant?"
"Come on, Loc," said Gutter. "We straight up in here. Let's go along with the program." Gutter handed over his guns, and Lou-loc reluctantly did the same.
"Thank you," Roc said with a smile, "now if you will please follow me. Anwar is waiting." Roc instructed the little guardian to put the confiscated weapons into the safe and run the register for a while.
He led the two men through the isles and into the back storeroom. It was fairly normal looking as storerooms went. The small area was cluttered with boxes of supplies and file cabinets.
There was a large meat freezer, that stretched along the entire back wall. Roc turned the knob, and the massive door slid open with a loud hiss. "This way, gentlemen." Lou-loc looked at Gutter puzzled, and then turned his attention to Roc. "You can't be serious?" he said sarcastically. "You want us to go into a freezer?"
"You Americans are so distrustful," Roc said with a chuckle.
"This is the way to the war room. Once you step inside, you'll understand."
Gutter and Lou-loc stepped into the freezer cautiously, with Roc bringing up the rear. Lou-loc had an odd feeling about the whole situation. Once all three were inside, the massive door slammed, and the freezer went dark.
Lou-loc instinctively reached for his gun that was no longer there. "Shit!" he screamed. Infrared beams of light passed over Lou-loc and Gutter's bodies. In his mind, Lou-loc knew he was living his last moments.
The lights continued to sweep over Lou-loc and his partner, but they still seemed to be intact. After a few moments, the beams were gone and the freezer began to rumble. Lou-loc could tell they were descending, but where to, he was unsure.
Before long, they were stopped and the freezer was illuminated with some sort of emergency light.
"Hope that didn't unnerve you too much." Roc said sarcastically. "It was just a sweep for concealed weapons."
"You boys sure are paranoid," Lou-loc retorted with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
"Afraid we must be," Roc said while unlocking another door that Lou-loc was sure wasn't there when he entered the freezer.
"People now a days aren't always honorable. Paranoia will help me to live a very long life."
The three men left the freezer/elevator and found themselves in an underground passage. It was a long corridor that appeared to not have been used in sometime. The walls were crusted with mold and filth. The tiny holes in them showed signs that a gun-fight had transpired at some point.
"Must've been quite a gun fight down here?" Lou-loc whispered to Gutter as he examined the holes. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that not all of the specs were holes. Some of them appeared to be covered by glass. Like lenses of some sort.
As he turned to rejoin the group, he noticed Roc watching him.
Lou-loc was tempted to ask about the holes but he didn't and Roc didn't volunteer the information.
At the end of the corridor, there stood a lone iron door.
Along the edge of the door, there was something scribbled in Arabic. Lou-loc couldn't translate the words, but they seemed to mean something to Gutter.
"This is Anwar's war room," Roc said motioning towards the door, "while you gentlemen remove your shoes, I will notify him that you're here." Without waiting for a response, he disappeared behind the door, leaving Lou-loc and Gutter in the hall alone.
Once Lou-loc was sure Roc was out of earshot, he decided to ask Gutter about the writing. "Say, Gutter," he said tapping his friends arm, "what's that writing all about? What that shit mean, cuz?"
Gutter looked at his friend and smiled. "Well, the first part says: 'Justice for the sons and daughters of Allah.' The second part says: 'Death to the Almighty Devil.'" Lou-loc looked at Gutter confused. "Who or what is the Almighty Devil?"
"America," Gutter said flatly.
A moment later, Roc came into the hallway and summoned them inside. As the two men entered the room, they were quite surprised by what they saw. Unlike the filthy corridor, the room was quite plush. The floors were carpeted from wall to wall, and there was a high arched ceiling. The interior of the room was soundproofed and completely without windows. A vast network of monitors on the back wall gave off the only light, other than the few scattered candles.
There wasn't much in the way of furniture either. There was a white leather sofa that took up most of the wall to the left of the monitors. In another section of the room, there was a confer-ence table surrounded by seven chairs. In the center of the room sat an oak desk directly in front of the monitors. Even though it was draped in shadows, Lou-loc could tell that someone was sitting behind the desk watching them.
"Please step in," said a voice in clipped English. "Step in and be seated. You are amongst friends here." Lou-loc and Gutter moved cautiously across the carpeted floor and took up seats on the couch. As Lou-loc sniffed the air, he could smell a familiar aroma through the scented candles. It wasn't a totally unpleasant smell, but it was a familiar one. As quickly as the thought came to him, he pushed it from his mind.
There was no way it could be the same smell. Could it?
The figure stepped from behind the desk, snapping Lou-loc from his thoughts. As the figure came into the light, his features became clear to them. He had long black hair that was braided into a ponytail, and tied off with a golden ribbon. His olive toned face was smooth and bare, much like Lou-loc's. The gar-m
ents he wore were simple. Green army fatigues and a black turtleneck.
Roc stepped in the center of the room and bowed from the waist. "Gutter, Lou-loc, I present to you Prince Anwar Bien Mustaf."
Anwar stepped forward and shook their hands. Anwar was not at all what they had expected. He appeared to be no more that a teenager, but it was his eyes that told a different story. They were the eyes of a warrior.
"Thank you for coming," Anwar said politely. "There is still much for us to discuss. But first, may I offer you some refresh-ment? Soda, juice, liquor?"
At the mention of booze, Gutter was quick to respond.
"Thanks, man, you got any Yak? Like Henny or something?"
"Of course I do. That's actually one of my favorite Cognacs.
And what will you have?" he asked Lou-loc.
"Same, thanks."
Anwar turned to Roc. "Would you mind, brother?" "Your will is mine," Roc said with a bow. "I'll return shortly." With that he was gone.
Anwar motioned for the two men to join him at the confer-ence table so they could begin the negotiation. "Kenyatta," he said bowing to Gutter, "when Roc told me of your long standing friendship, I asked him
why he hadn't brought you to my attention sooner? How could I deny a member of the Soladine family?"
"You are familiar with my family?" Gutter asked surprised.
"Indeed I am. Believe it or not, I owe your grandfather a great debt. When I was a young boy, visiting my family in Afghanistan, the Russians invaded my uncle's village. Your Family helped get us out.
"Your grandfather as well as your Father were great men.
Even though they were not of our lands, they fought for our people. He was a great asset to our troops, and a martyr to our people."
"Thank you," Gutter said with a nod. All was silent for a moment. It was as if the men were paying their respects to the fallen soldier. Roc came in with the drinks, and took up the seat next to Anwar.
At last, Anwar broke the silence. "Now, to the business at hand. What can the Al Mukalla do for you, Gentlemen?"
"Well, it's like this," Gutter started, "it ain't really what you can do for us, but what we can do for each other. You feel me?
"Me and my partner," he said motioning towards Lou-loc "we doing big things in Harlem. We got paper coming in, and we holding shit down. We tryin' to step it up, and spread it out, cousin.
"Now things are cool uptown, but the shit is twisted everywhere else. We'd like to expand to downtown and the lower
east, but there's too many rival sets. We'd have to spill a good amount of blood to really do us. We ain't really tryin' to go there. Not that we scared or no shit like that, we just don't need the heat."
"And this is to mean what to me?" Anwar asked.
"Hold on Anwar, I'm getting to that. We heard about your little problem out here. Bloods acting all crazy, jacking ya customers and fucking up business. Makes it kinda hard to get ya paper on."
"Very true." Anwar answered honestly. "People are becoming more and more afraid to come out here. We hold sway within the heart of our turf, but we are stretched very thin along our borders. I see you've done your home work, Kenyatta?"
"Thank you, Anwar."
"So, how do you and your bunch propose to help us with our... problem?"
"Glad you asked," Gutter said with a grin. "We propose an alliance of sorts. Let us set up shop on the Al Mukalla borders.
We'll cut you in for 15% of our gross profits in Brooklyn for the first six months, and 10% thereafter.
"In return, you hit us wit the dope at a discount. This way, your customers are guaranteed safe passage, your borders are covered, and we get to expand. Everybody gets paid. How you love that?"
Anwar paused for a moment to consider what was being laid out before him. "It sounds good so far, Kenyatta. But I do see a flaw in your plan.
"Allowing your people to operate in our area will be looked upon as a slight to the Bloods in the area. Some might even see it as taking sides. We, Al Mukalla, are what you might call sep-aratists. It is not our way to involve ourselves in outsider feuds.
"It isn't that we are afraid, or don't want to help you. It is quite the opposite actually. It's just that, this... color war, is not ours. To involve ourselves in this thing of yours, could cause serious problems. If anything negative were to come of this, it would not go over well with my people." For a long while no one spoke. The Al Mukalla's refusal to aid Harlem in the feud was something Gutter hadn't counted on.
Gutter knew that if he couldn't sway Anwar, he would be back to square one.
"I have a suggestion." Lou-loc said, surprising everyone in the room. "I have a way this can work out for us all."
"I'm listening." Anwar said, leaning forward on his elbows.
"Tell me something," Lou-loc started, "if hostile parties were to initiate violence on Al Mukalla turf, and you handled it, would you be in the wrong?"
Anwar looked at Lou-loc puzzled. "Technically no. It is common knowledge amongst all the gang leaders in the area, that we will brook no violations of our set, as you call it."
"Well, there's your solution." Lou-loc said sitting back in his chair.
"I'm afraid I don't follow you, Lou-loc." Anwar said flatly.
"Well, let me break it down to you, Anwar. We'll keep dealing with the problems in Harlem, that isn't a problem for us.
Now in Brooklyn, we'll do it like this. We'll handle the new spots, and the threats to the borders. The Al Mukalla will lend additional muscle, when called for. The best part of it is, it'll all be done anonymous if you'd prefer it that way. Other than Gutter and me, none of the homeboys know about this little meeting. If someone were to discover your involvement, it would be as if you were just protecting your turf. No harm, no foul, and we all win."
Anwar sat for a moment rubbing his bare chin. A smile crossed his face as he turned his attention to Lou-loc. "Lou-loc, you are a snake, and a brilliant strategist. You should be with Al Mukalla, my friend. You could've easily been a general in our army back home."
"Thank you, Anwar, but the Crips are my army."
"So, what it is, Anwar?" Gutter interrupted. "Do we do business or what?"
"So eager." Anwar said smirking. "First things first. We need a binding agreement."
"What, like a contract?" Gutter asked.
"Not quite. In olden times, pacts were sealed in blood."
"So, you want us to prick our fingers or something. I ain't too fond of nothing red, but I ain't no punk. Let's do this."
"Not quite what I meant." Anwar corrected. "I had something different in mind. Something to ensure our loyalty to each other in this relationship."
Lou-loc had a bad feeling as to where the conversation was going. "What you talking bout, Anwar?" Anwar leaned forward and looked Lou-loc dead in the eye.
"A life for a life. You kill someone for us, and we for you." Gutter breathed a little easier. "Shit, is that all? I was more nervous when I thought you wanted me to cut myself. Nigga, I'm always down for a 187. Who you want dead?"
"A local," Anwar started, "he runs this little group of five-per centers out of Bedstuy. He and his alike are becoming a pain in my ass. Because of certain mutual spiritual beliefs and acquain-tances, I can't strike him down directly so I am forced to call on outside help."
"Ain't nothing," Gutter said confidently, "I'll dust his ass myself."
"Afraid not," Anwar interjected, "you are also Muslim, and therefor, it would not be wise for you to embark on such a task.
And because of our anonymous relationship, the task cannot be trusted to one of your underlings." Lou-loc definitely didn't like where this was going.
"I do have another candidate in mind." Anwar said a little to cool for Lou-loc's liking. "I nominate Lou-loc." There it was. Lou-loc had killed quite a few people in his life, but that was before. He had no desire to damn himself anymore than he already was. There was some bullshit about to go down, and he knew it.
"So," Anwar sa
id, with a devilish smile, "will you do this thing for us?"
"Go fuck ya self, sand rat," is what Lou-loc wanted to say, but he didn't. "Why you want me to do it?"
"You are my brother's brother. If Kenyatta trust you, then I trust you. Besides, you are one of the most qualified killers I know of." This statement caught Lou-loc off guard.
"Don't look so surprised, St. Louis. I am familiar with your work. To date, you have twenty-three bodies under your belt, two of which were police officers. I know you, Lou-loc."
"Fuck, is you writing my bio or some shit?" Lou-loc asked defensively.
"No need to worry," Anwar assured him, "your secrets are safe with me. In fact, I owe you somewhat of a debt. A few years ago, you murdered a Blood called 'Two Shot.' This particular Blood murdered a cousin of mine in a convenient store hold up.
You saved me the trouble of having him executed. Many thanks for that. Now back to the business at hand. If you help us on this, I will make it worth your while.
"There's thirty thousand cash in it for you, and I will owe you a great debt. I have friends in the publishing industry, who owe me favors. Will you do it?"
"Why me?" Lou-loc thought to himself. All he wanted to do was get out of the game, and there was always something to bind him tighter to it.
Lou-loc looked at Anwar, who was waiting for an answer, then he looked at Gutter with hope etched across his face. Lou-loc answered him with one word. "When?" A broad smile crossed both Gutter's and Anwar's face. "My friends," Anwar said raising his glass, "let us toast to success." Lou-loc was trying to rise above the hood shit, and Anwar had just taken a dump in his lap.
CHAPTER 7
The sun was setting, and evening was approaching as Lou-loc made his way through the streets of the east village. He was having mixed feelings about the day's turn of events. He was happy that his friend was seeing his dream through, but what about his dream?