Mills was so taken with his own performance, that he did not see the joint text message that had, at that very moment, been sent to both him and Merchant. Like any good partner, however, Merchant saw the message immediately and stepped right in.
“Yes,” Merchant replied. “Steve is right. I thought I heard her refer to a car jack, like maybe someone had a flat tire. But, she could have been saying, Jackson.”
Rex and Reba turned and looked at each other with puzzled faces.
“Oh, well,” Reba said. “It will all work out. Gentlemen, shall we eat?”
As he was sitting down, Mills looked at his phone and saw the text message that had been sent to both he and Merchant. The message had two simple words: Jackson Lowery. Mills nodded and smiled slightly. He knew that young Amy Duncan would call a friend as soon as she left the house. Now, because of their access to resources, they knew exactly who he was. He sent a text response to the message and sat down to eat dinner with the next president of the United States.
__________________
It was just past 7:30 pm on Monday night when Jackson's cell phone chirped. Ironically, he had been thinking about his lovely dinner with Amy on Friday night. Was he in high school or what? It was obvious that she was a focused lady and was clear about what she wanted. For some strange reason, she wanted Jackson. Jackson liked the idea, but was that the responsible thing to do? He had decided early in the weekend to tell Amy he was fine with them going out, but the romance would have to wait until she left his class. By Sunday night, he was ready to invite her to spend the night. Take charge, Jackson, he thought to himself.
Looking at his ringing phone, he knew that it was Amy's number. They had texted each other a few times over the weekend. Sitting on his living room sofa in his Georgetown apartment, a smiling Jackson Lowery answered the phone.
“Hi, Amy! How are you?”
“Jackson, I need your help! It is all so wrong,
Jackson. These are evil men and my father doesn't even know it. Please, Jackson, please help me!” Amy was hysterical. Jackson could tell she was driving so his first thought was to get her to settle down somewhat so that she could drive safely.
“Amy, I am here. It is alright. Try to stay calm. I am here to help you,” Jackson said.
“I need to see you right away. These bad men are going to do something horrendous. I need your help.”
Jackson tried to think quickly about where they could meet. He did not want her driving far in her current state of mind. “Remember where we had dinner, Amy? Across the street? Where we kissed? Can you meet me there in ten minutes?”
Hearing Jackson refer to their date did serve to calm Amy a bit.
“Of course, I know where you mean. How could I not,” she said, laughing nervously. “I am on my way.”
Jackson hung up the phone, slipped on his shoes, checked to make sure he had his wallet and keys and bolted out the door. He would be at the Exorcist steps in less than ten minutes.
Jackson had been leaning against the wall just a few feet from the top of the Exorcist steps on Prospect and 36th Streets, NW. He heard Amy before he saw her. She was running hard and burst into tears when she saw him. She jumped into his arms and they embraced like lovers who had been separated for weeks.
“Oh, Jackson, it was so horrible. I don't know what to do,” Amy stammered.
“I am here, Amy. Just tell me what happened and then we can take it from there.” While he spoke, he wrapped his arm around her and walked back toward the 1789 Restaurant, where they ate just a few nights ago.
“Let's not cross the street, Jackson. I am terrified. There is no telling what these people will do,” Amy shrieked. They leaned against the brick wall that encompasses the Car Barn office buildings. Then, she told him about the men she had met at her parent's home. She then told Jackson what they had said. All of it. Jackson took it well, but he too was stung by what Amy had heard. Hadn't we gotten rid of that garbage during the civil war? Or the 60's? Jackson had always figured that the Alt-right, white nationalist group thing was a fringe element. Could Jackson have been wrong?
Jackson calmly asked one question. “Amy, are you sure you heard the words 'close to finally being able to exterminate a generation of dark and brown babies and no one will see it comin’?”
“Yes, Jackson, I am positive. That is how I got caught. I could not believe those words. I sort of yelped and startled both men when I did.”
“And, their names were Steve and Bill?”
“Yes, I am sure about the first names, not about the last names. Maybe Steve's last name was Miller or something like that.” She shuddered. “The look he gave me was so scary.”
At this point, both were arm in arm pacing back and forth between the top of the Exorcist steps and Prospect Street. Understandably, neither could stand still.
“Amy, we will figure this out. There are some folks I can call. You need to stay with me tonight. Where is your car?”
“I parked it a couple blocks away from here. My lucky day. I found a parking space in Georgetown.” Both smiled.
“Okay. Leave it there. We can worry about that later. The more I think about it, if these folks are saying the kind of things you mentioned, they are dangerous. We should take a deep breath. We can go to my place and figure out what to do. We also need to decide how to approach your dad.”
For the first time since seeing her that night, Amy actually smiled a real smile. “Thank you, Jackson. I knew I could count on you. You know, I think I am in love with you.”
Jackson smiled back. “One step at a time, young lady. First, we need to figure out what all of what you just told me really means. Again, are you sure you heard things exactly as you just told me?”
They had just turned from Prospect and were heading toward the steps down the path Jackson usually took to get to his apartment whenever he ate at the Tombs or 1789. Amy was about to respond to Jackson's question when suddenly, a black van screeched to stop on Prospect and two men jumped out of the car. While trying to shield Amy from the men, Jackson was pushing her toward the steps. He then saw two other men running up the steps headed toward them.
They were trapped!
Amy looked at him with a face filled with terror. Jackson clenched his fists and turned to face the men charging from the van, when suddenly he felt a jolt to the side of his head. Then, everything went black.
__________________
Rex and Reba were having a generally uninspired dinner at their home with Steve Mills and Bill Merchant when they got the call. The four of them were in the midst of talking about Taiwanese cuisine when Rex finally got up to answer his cellphone, which would not stop ringing. The look on his face said it all. The man looked as if he had been punched straight in the gut. All the color left his cheeks. Reba, after over thirty years of marriage knew that Rex had not just taken an ordinary call. She also had the benefit of women's intuition. She dropped her fork on her plate, pushed back her chair and ran toward her husband.
“It's Amy, isn't it, Rex? It's our precious daughter. Please tell me she is alright!! Please, Rex!”
The senior senator from Idaho just shook his head and slumped back in his chair. “Reba, my love, they found her in Georgetown. She is dead.” He got up from his chair, grabbed his wife and held her close. Reba began screaming and weeping uncontrollably.
Mills and Merchant acted surprised, shocked and distraught.
“Dear God in heaven!” Bill Merchant said. “My dear God in heaven.” He then covered his eyes with his hands and began shaking his head.
Steve Mills' response was more muted, but still respectful. “I am so very sorry for your loss.” He stood up at the same time that two of the senator's aides entered the room to escort the two men out.
“Your family is in our prayers,” Mills said, as he and Merchant were leaving.
Rex nodded slowly and continued to hug his wife.
Walking to their cars, Merchan
t turned to Mills, looked around, making sure that they were alone and said, “God, are we doing the right thing, here, Steve? Really? Did it have to go this far?”
Mills, while fishing out his car keys, looked at his friend and simply said, “We may not have gone far enough, Bill. We are in a war and nothing is more important than the cause, than the plan. There will be collateral damage. This is all just beginning, my friend.”
With that, he looked at his friend, gave a slight nod, got in his car and left.
THREE
Having arrived at the Minnesota Avenue subway station in northeast D.C., Jackson went to a nearby phone store and now had three more throwaway phones. Standing in the shadow of a convenience store on the northeast corner of Minnesota and Benning Roads, Jackson began dialing the number he had memorized years earlier. He was told at the time that one day the number could mean the difference between life and death. The phone rang one time before it was picked up.
“Talk,” said the voice who answered the phone.
“Do you know who this is?” Jackson replied.
“Yes, I do,” said the voice.
“Do you know what is going on? How bad is it?”
“It's everywhere. Bad. Just hit within the hour.”
“Part of me feels like I should turn myself in, try to explain things,” Jackson said, hoping to get the advice he had called to get.
“Negative. It's past that. Come to me,” the voice said.
“Come to you?”
“Right now,” the voice said, giving him quick, cryptic instructions. The phone then clicked dead.
Jackson had to think. Where he needed to go was at least a five to six hour drive. He couldn't fly and using his car was out of the question. Jackson had to think fast, because some of the neighborhood boys were eyeing him, sizing him up. Looking in the parking lot, Jackson noticed three parked cabs. Great, he thought, noticing that it was a hang out for cabbies. Jackson went into the store, grabbed some coffee and raised his voice, saying, “Does anyone want a $100 cab fare?”
Two older men hanging by the cash register jumped in his direction. The first one who made it to him said, “At your service, sir. Just tell me where you want to go.”
Jackson told the cab driver to take him to the New Carrollton subway station. From there, he could get to Baltimore and catch a Greyhound westward. While in the cab, Jackson remembered again about subway cameras. He also thought about all the cameras at bus stations. He kept brainstorming in his head, realizing that his best option was to drive. He looked at his watch. Nearly midnight. Where could he get a car this time of night? Would it make sense to camp out somewhere and try something new in the morning? Then, it hit him. He knew exactly where he could get a car. With no questions asked.
Rahim Singleterry was the best car thief in the D.C. Metropolitan area by far. While countless stories exist around his legendary thievery, the best one centered around then fourteen year old Rahim stealing a Ford Taurus from a train full of new cars being shipped across country. Somehow, Rahim got in one of the cars up front on the second row, hot wired it, and drove it off the train while it was slowing down and maneuvering through southeast D.C. The car was not missed until the train was half way across the country.
In the meantime, Rahim was driving his fellow block boys all around southeast for several days. He got caught when police saw him speeding down Nannie Helen Burroughs Avenue. He pulled over and asked the officer, “What took y‘all so long?” It wasn't until the car's serial number was matched with the serial number from the missing car on the train that the authorities were able to put two and two together.
Jackson met Rahim when Jackson was prosecuting a high profile murder case. The evidence against the defendant was decent, but not overly strong. At the time, Rahim was awaiting trial for another car theft. He was facing ten to fifteen years if convicted. Rahim's lawyer reached out to Jackson to tell him that Rahim witnessed the murder and could recall things that only an eyewitness could recount.
After talking with Rahim, it was evident that his lawyer was right. Rahim did witness the murder and his testimony would help immensely. Rahim's lawyer was asking that his sentence be cut in half in exchange for Rahim's testimony. Rahim, on the other hand, being a seasoned criminal, wanted his case dismissed. Jackson's superiors left it up to him, but were not inclined to see Rahim walk away scott-free. Jackson pushed for and got the deal Rahim wanted. Rahim gave sworn deposition testimony, which Jackson shared with the alleged murderer's counsel. The defendant pled to a murder two charge and was locked away for a long time.
When Jackson told Rahim of the outcome, Rahim devilishly said, “Guess it pays to be at the right place at the right time, ain't that right, Mr. DA? I owe you, sir!”
That exchange occurred nearly fifteen years ago, but knowing Rahim the way he did then, Jackson was betting on the fact that the master car thief was not in prison and could be found.
Jackson gave the cab driver another destination change, to a corner in Fairmount Heights, Maryland, just off of Sheriff Road. The cabbie kind of grunted in response to another changed destination as if to say, “I thought this would be an easy $100.”
After being dropped off, Jackson walked down the still familiar street and saw the bungalow house where Rahim grew up. Back then, Rahim had other haunts, but always considered his momma's Fairmount Heights home as his place of residence. With the time approaching 1 am, Jackson hesitated before knocking on the door. He continued, however, when he heard voices inside.
The door was answered right away. Rahim looked older, heavier and with less hair, but that infectious smile was still there.
“My, my, my! If it ain't my favorite D.A. You in some shit, ain't you boy?”
An elderly woman's voice yelled from inside, “Who is it Rahim? Who's knocking on the door at this hour?”
“Chill, momma, it's just Jo Jo. I'm just gonna be a minute,” Rahim yelled back.
She had an edge in her voice now, “You're not going anywhere are you, boy?”
“Naw, momma. Just gimme a minute.”
To Jackson, he said, “Let's walk to the street, so we can talk. Momma hates Jo Jo. That's why she didn't even say hello. Also, why she didn't come to the door. Anything to avoid contact with him.”
Jackson, who hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise up to that point, tried to jump right in.
“Rahim, sorry to come to you this way, but I need your help...”
Rahim cut him off. “Ya think, Mr. D.A.? Your shit is all ova the news, CNN, MSNBC, everywhere. And man, that student of yours was finer than shit. She looked kinda like that girl in Will Smith's movie, Hancock---”
Now, Jackson cut Rahim off. “You said was fine. What do you mean was fine?”
Rahim looked at Jackson with quiet, compassionate eyes. “You really didn't know she was dead, did you? They found her propped up on the Exorcist steps in Georgetown, like she was sitting down for a minute or something. She had been hit on the head and was strangled. Everyone thinks it was you.”
Jackson felt lightheaded and lost his footing a bit. He did not even notice that Rahim was holding him up with both arms. “Sorry, Mr. D.A. They gunning for you now. When I first saw it, I didn't think you would do some sick shit like that, especially with a fine motha like that. But since OJ, if a successful brother walks out of line, his ass is grass. You remember I told you that, right? Way before Black Lives Matter.”
“Yeah, I remember, Rahim. You used to say, 'but for the grace of God'... but that is why I am here. I need your help. I need a car.”
Rahim smiled broadly. “Glad you remembered me and my skills. Of course, you came to the right spot.”
At that point, Jackson looked in the driveway and noticed there was not one car parked in it or on the street in front of the house.
“I see you looking, Mr. D.A. My rep is so strong, I can't keep any vehicles on my premises.” Leaning forward, Rahim started to whisper conspirat
orially to Jackson.
“Look, go to the end of the block and make a right turn. Then walk two and half blocks and turn into the alley on the left. Wait for me there.”
Jackson looked at Rahim and nodded. Inside, his emotions were taking over. He wanted to cry - for himself, his son, for Amy. A few hours ago, his life was steady and comfortable. Now, he is a wanted man, believed to have killed the pretty daughter of the next President of the United States. Again, his legs were feeling wobbly.
Once again, Rahim, snapped him out of it. “Fuck it, Mr. D.A. Meet me at my spot so I can get you this car and you can go clear your name. See you in fifteen.” With that, Rahim walked back to his momma's house and went inside. Jackson did as ordered and walked down the street to get the car.
Rahim met Jackson in the alley, walked halfway down and then opened the gate to a fence leading to the backyard of a house, right next to a garage. He opened the gate, then unlocked the door on the side of the garage. Jackson followed him inside. Once inside, Rahim turned on a small light by the door. Jackson noticed that Rahim had a trash bag in his hand.
“I don't need to know details, but are you headed south, toward the Midwest, or north?” Rahim asked.
“Toward the Midwest.”
“Cool, these will work.”
Rahim then opened the trash bag and pulled out a gray cardigan sweater, a blue down vest, a blue, gray, and white scarf, and some nerdy looking glasses. He also tossed Jackson a Kangol hat similar to the kind worn by the old golfer Calvin Peete.
“These things will match your car and make it less likely for you to get stopped by some redneck trooper on the road. Wear the cardigan at all times, along with the glasses. The lenses are clear, with no prescription, but they help a lot when you want to look non-threatening. Now, let me give you your car.”
The Plan (The Jackson Lowery Trilogy Book 1) Page 3