The Mike Black Saga: In A Cold Sweat

by Glenn, Roy

  “Black said to tell you that he ain’t got no problem wit’ you, and he wanna sit down wit’ you to settle y’all’s differences.”

  “What you mean Black came to you? How Black even know you?”

  “He just walked up on me,” CeCe said.

  “When was this?”

  “This weekend, up on the avenue.”

  Stark had heard that some of Cash’s boyz tried to hit Black on the avenue. Even if Black had told CeCe that he wanted to talk, them trying to kill him may have changed that. He suspected that if he went to that meeting, that he would be assassinated. “You tell Black that if he ain’t got no problems wit’ me, then I got none wit’ him. I won’t fuck wit’ him and what he do, he don’t fuck wit’ me and mine. You tell him that, but I ain’t goin’ to no damn meeting. That ain’t happenin’. You tell him I got nothin’ to do wit’ what Cash or K’s boyz do,” Stark said, and him and his boys walked away. The Commission was dead.

  All CeCe could do was shake her head. Stark was practically shaking he was so scared of Black. All that, don’t fuck with me and mine, shit he was talking must have been for his boy’s benefit, because she wasn’t impressed.

  Since that night, CeCe heard that Black had been to all the spots Stark hung out at that night. “That’s what you do when you got beef with somebody. You go lookin’ for him, not hide like a bitch,” CeCe told one of her girlfriends. “Mike Black is a real man. And I’m gonna get him.”

  “You’re such a flirt. How can he resist you?” her girlfriend replied.

  CeCe had been leaving word for Black with anybody she could think of, but days had gone by and she still hadn’t heard from him. She was starting to think that maybe she wasn’t as irresistible as she thought she was.

  When the detectives came to interview her for a second time and asked her if she knew Mike Black, CeCe started to ask them if they could get a message to him, but she didn’t think they’d do it. So, when Richards and Kirk left her apartment, they still had nothing to go on.

  “Any ideas?” Kirk asked.

  “I’m fresh out,” Richards confessed and slumped in his seat.

  “What do you do when you’ve got nothin’?” Kirk asked and started the car.

  “What?”

  “You go make something happen.”

  “Where we goin’?”

  “Taking a ride downtown.”

  “What for?”

  “To talk to agent Vinnelli,” Kirk said as he drove. “See what he can tell us about The Commission.”

  “You think he might know something about these guys?”

  “Not really, but you never know.”

  “I think you just like fuckin’ with the guy,” Richards said.

  “I do.” After his conversation with Black, Kirk knew that sooner or later he would hear that DeFrancisco was dead. That didn’t bother him. In a way, he agreed that he had to die. Justice?

  His concern was about Vinnelli.

  Would Black really try to kill a DEA agent? Kirk didn’t know.

  Kirk had briefly entertained the idea of warning Vinnelli that Black was on to them and that he’d be coming. But he knew Vinnelli was dirty and suspected that he was the one who hired Kip Bartowski, the man that killed Shy.

  Kirk had found a cigarette butt in the laundry room at Black’s house. They were able to pull a partial print off of it. It came back that Bartowski was United States Army, Special Forces. He was reported killed in a training accident on October twenty-seventh nineteen ninety eight. His helicopter went down and the body was never recovered. “How a dead man could smoke a cigarette at a crime scene?” Kirk remembered asking Vinnelli during their investigation.

  Even though he didn’t say it, Kirk felt Black knew that Vinnelli was involved in the murder of his wife. So he had a decision to make.

  Not my problem, Kirk decided. If Vinnelli is murdered, it would be a Federal matter. No one will ask me for my help. I been trying to get Black for murders I know for a fact that he committed and couldn’t. Let’s see if they can do any better. If they ask me, I’ll tell them what I know, but they won’t ask. That he was sure of. But he did enjoy harassing Vinnelli, now more than ever.

  While waiting almost a half-hour for Vinnelli, Richards occupied the time by flirting with the receptionist and pumping her for information about Vinnelli. He and Kirk had been there so many times over the last few months that the agent didn’t bother coming to the lobby to greet them.

  “Send them back. They know the way,” Vinnelli told the receptionist. When the detectives were seated before him, Vinnelli got right to it. “What can I do for you?” he asked, not bothering to hide his contempt.

  “We’re investigating the deaths of two suspected dealers,” Kirk began with a look that showed his contempt. “We were hoping that you had something on them.”

  “Who we talkin’ about?” Vinnelli asked.

  Richards pulled out the crime scene photos. “A Steven Blake, goes by the name Cash Money. And the other one is Kevin Murdock,” he said.

  “Jesus,” Vinnelli said, caught off guard by the bloody drive-by images. “What do they call him?”

  “K Murder,” Kirk spit out.

  “Fitting, under the circumstances,” Vinnelli laughed and Richards joined in. “I haven’t heard of them, but give me a day or two to make some inquiries; you know, see if they come up on somebody else’s radar and I’ll get back to you.”

  “We would really appreciate that, Vinnelli,” Richards said.

  “Not a problem. Glad to help out. What's the deal with these clowns?”

  Kirk was hoping he’d ask that question. “Those two and two others had formed what they called The Commission. They billed it as a buying co-op, but their real purpose was to protect themselves against Mike Black. I know you guys once considered him a person of interest, despite his lack of involvement in drugs.”

  “Don’t tell me that fuck’s involved?” Vinnelli asked.

  “He’s a suspect,” Kirk said. “So any info you have to share may be helpful.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Vinnelli promised.

  “As always, we’ve taken up more than enough of your time,” Kirk said and stood up. “Don’t bother getting up, we know the way out.”

  Once the detectives were out of sight, Vinnelli got up and closed his door. He returned to his desk, picked up his phone and dialed a number.

  “Agent Masters,” he answered the phone.

  “Vinnelli. Detectives Kirk and Richards were just here.”

  “What did they want?” Masters asked.

  “They’re investigating the deaths of two drug dealers and they shared with me that Mike Black is a suspect.”

  “Really?”

  “Kirk let that slip before he left.” Vinnelli laughed a bit. “You heard anything about that?”

  “No, but I do need to make you aware of something though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Agent Harris has not been able to reacquire the other two subjects. If he can’t resolve that situation soon, we may have to move up the time table,” Masters said.

  “Keep me posted,” Vinnelli said and hung up the phone.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  With a little help from Monika, a lot of help actually, Jackie now had high-tech surveillance up and running on Mylo. After listening to the crude surveillance that Jackie had running, the first thing Monika wanted was to see the place. “All of it,” she told Jackie when she came begging Monika to help her. “Gettin’ up on his cell phone frequency is easy. I need to see the house.”

  “That’s no problem,” Jackie said. “Just come with me tonight.”

  “Don’t you think that’ll look a little suspicious? If I show up there and start wandering around?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t think of that,” Jackie admitted.

  “No, girlfriend, you're the one on the inside. You're the one who’s gonna map the whole thing out, and you’re the one who’s gonna plant yo
ur devices. I’ll be right back,” Monika said and left Jackie alone in the living room.

  While she waited, Jackie thought that whatever Monika had in mind wasn’t helping her. She had already done her best work, and it was poor. That’s why I came to her in the first place, Jackie thought. This was important to her. Black asked her to watch Mylo and she wanted to do a good job. She understood that it could turn into better things for her. If Black trusted her, maybe he’d put her in a spot where she wouldn’t have to hustle every night.

  When Monika returned, she was wearing sunglasses, had a headset on and was carrying a laptop. Jackie stood up.

  “Where you goin’?” Monika said and sat down.

  “I thought we were goin’ somewhere.” Jackie reclaimed her seat.

  “Chill out a minute,” Monika said, and opened her laptop. She handed Jackie an ear piece. “Put that in your ear and tell me if you can hear me.” Jackie put the small device in her ear. “Can you hear me?”

  “In my ear,” Jackie replied.

  Once Monika was set up, she handed the sunglasses to Jackie. “Put these on.”

  Jackie put the glasses on and Monika turned the laptop so she could see it. “Those are photosensitive sunglasses with a micro-miniature camera.”

  “Cool. It’s just like I’m looking through sunglasses.”

  “What you see is recorded using a standard video recorder that is fed into a video transmitter in the lap. You go in wearin’ those glasses and that ear piece. When I say pan right, you turn your head slowly to the right,” Monika instructed and demonstrated how she wanted Jackie to do it. “When I say pan left, you turn your head slowly to the left. This way I can see the whole place and know where the best places to set your cameras and microphones.”

  That night, Monika guided Jackie as she walked through the gambling house. The next night she told her where and how to set the devices. The only one that was difficult was the one in Mylo’s office. Jackie came up with a reason to have to talk to Mylo alone in his office. Halfway through the conversation, Jackie said she wanted a drink. When Mylo went to get it, Jackie quickly did her work and was sitting pretty when he came back.

  After a week of watching and listening to nothing even remotely important, both in the house and on his cell phone, Monika caught a break.

  “Mylo.”

  “Who’s this?” Mylo asked.

  “You know who this is.”

  “What’s up? Where you at?”

  “Where I am ain’t important. We need to talk, man. Shit has got real fucked up. That nigga Black’s been lookin’ all over the city for me.”

  “Calm down, nigga, I got you. We can talk, just not over the phone. Where you at?” Mylo asked again.

  “Don’t worry about where I am. You just meet me at the Shrine Bar.”

  “I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Monika had a feeling that if they were talking about Black, it might be something. She immediately called Jackie. “Fold and get out here,” Monika said in Jackie’s ear. She cursed and folded the king high straight she was working on and joined Monika in the car.

  “What’s up?” Jackie asked.

  “We need to follow your boy,” Monika said and explained what she heard. “He should be coming out that door right about now.” Just as she spoke the words, Mylo came out of the house and walked quickly to his car. Monika closed the laptop and started the car. “Finally, a little action.”

  Mylo got in his car and headed downtown, with Monika trailing him. Since she knew where he was going and had a tracking device on his car, Monika was able to hang back so Mylo wouldn’t notice them. On the way, Monika told Jackie where they were going.

  Shrine Bar Restaurant was located in Harlem, on 7th Avenue between 133rd and 134th Streets. It was a showcase for live music and boasted of having the best sound system in town. Mylo went inside and Monika waited a while and went in after him. By the time she got inside, Mylo was at the bar talking to a man she had never seen before. Since Monika was wearing her photosensitive glasses, Jackie was able to see what she was seeing. “I’ve never seen him before,” Jackie confirmed.

  The music was so loud that Monika knew even if she could get close enough to them, she wouldn’t be able to hear what they were saying. And wouldn’t be able to filter out all the background noise if she could plant a listening device. She was able to get pictures of the two of them talking and went back to the car.

  The conversation lasted about fifteen minutes, after which Mylo left the Shrine and walked back to his car. Before long, they picked up Mylo on his cell phone. A male voice answered the call on the second ring. “How long?”

  “One hour,” Mylo replied and ended the call.

  The ladies followed Mylo back uptown to the Baychester Diner on Boston Road. Once again they waited as Mylo went inside. “Take pictures of everybody who goes in,” Monika told Jackie.

  “Where are you goin’?” Jackie asked.

  “Inside,” Monika said and got out.

  Monika spotted Mylo sitting at a table in the back near the restrooms. She quickly grabbed her mouth and rushed up to the waitress. “Where’s your restroom?”

  When the waitress pointed toward the back, Monika walked quickly, still holding her mouth. More so to hide her face at this point. Mylo didn’t look up when Monika passed his table. She brushed up against it and was able to place a listening device under the table.

  Monika got back in the car with Jackie. “Are we live?” she asked.

  “He just ordered coffee,” Jackie told her and the two made themselves comfortable taking pictures and waited to see who Mylo was meeting.

  Exactly one hour after Mylo made his call, a black Cadillac CTS pulled into the parking lot.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Mylo sat in his booth at the Baychester Diner sipping his coffee. He looked at his watch and knew that he wouldn’t have to wait too much longer. He had just left the Shrine Bar where he had met Bruce Stark, the so-called chairman of The Commission. Stark called him, frantically demanding that Mylo meet him to talk about Mike Black.

  “’Bout time you got here,” Stark said when Mylo approached him at the bar.

  “I’m here now, so what’s the problem?” Mylo asked and marveled at how well his plan was going.

  “I told you, fuckin’ Black is the problem. That nigga is out to get me.”

  “What you expect, you sent somebody to kill him. What you think he was gonna do; throw you a party? Run out of town?”

  “You the one that said he wasn’t untouchable, Mylo. After he killed Cash, you were the one who said he can be got just like any other nigga.”

  “Yeah, I did. And I meant it. I told you the best time to get him. I told you where the mutha fucka would be. It ain’t my fault that you fucked ’round and sent a nigga that couldn’t get the job done. Now you come cryin’ to me and say I fucked this up, now do something to help me.”

  “So what now?” Stark asked.

  “What you mean, what now? You blew your shot to kill him. Now you got two choices,” Mylo told him.

  “What's that?”

  “Make peace or get out of the city,” Mylo advised, believing that Stark would chose to get out with his life.

  “What?”

  “You heard me, nigga. Music ain't that loud you can’t hear me. Either you need to leave the city or try to make peace with him, cause that nigga ain’t gonna stop. He will kill you.”

  “CeCe said he wanna sit down to work out our problems,” Stark informed Mylo.

  “CeCe? What the fuck she got to do with this?” Mylo demanded to know. Black meeting with Stark would ruin everything he had set in motion.

  “She said he just walked up on her and told her that shit. Black and Bobby been in the street lookin’ for me. Not Freeze, Black himfuckin’-self.”

  “That’s the last fuckin’ thing you should do.”

  “But, you just said I could make peace with him. Now you sayin’ I shouldn’t?”

&
nbsp; “Can’t you see that shit? Do I have to tell you every-fuckin’-thing?” Mylo asked and Stark didn’t say anything. “Look, if you was to call for a meet, you could walk in there and say that it was all Cash and K and that you had nothing to do with it. But if he lookin’ for you, then he know you was the one that sent that mutha fucka to kill him.”

  “Right, right,” Stark agreed.

  “But if you meet him now, one, it will make you look like a weak nigga who wanna scream peace after they started shit. He won’t respect you and sure as shit Black will kill you at that meeting.”

  “That’s fucked up, Mylo, you know that? For some shit that was your fuckin’ idea, for you to stand there now and tell me some shit like that. I oughta shoot you my fuckin’ self.”

  “But you won’t,” Mylo said and showed Stark the gun in his hand. “Where’s BB?”

  “His boys say he’s ghost. Nigga took all the dope and money and gone.”

  Damn, Mylo thought. “Look, let me know where you gonna be and I’ll see if I can’t talk to Freeze, you know, like I said, tell him it was Cash and Kay.”

  “Now you talkin’. But you don’t need to know where I’ll be. I’ll get in touch with you. You just get it done,” Stark said and handed Mylo an envelope. “Earn your money. I ain’t exactly sure that I can trust you. Far as you know, I’m at Foxwoods.”

  “Whatever, nigga. You ain’t got to trust me.” Mylo held up the envelope that Stark had just given him. “This all the trust I need from your ass,” Mylo told Stark and left the Shrine Bar.

  Stark was right not to trust Mylo, because Mylo had a plan. His plan was simple: organize what was left of Birdie’s old crew, kill them off and then take over their markets. It was a plan that he knew would work perfectly, but he knew he couldn’t do it alone. He would need some help.

  Just then, Mylo looked up and saw DEA agent Masters come into the diner. Mylo and agent Masters used to work together, cut a few corners together and made a lot of money shaking down the very dealers they were assigned to investigate and bring to justice. This went on until Mylo was reassigned and began working undercover.