by Askari
Savino chuckled. “First of all, detective, I have a DNA specialist who will verify and testify that the amount of blood that was discovered at the scene isn’t enough to establish a murder. Secondly, your so called witness is a crack whore with a criminal record longer than Broad Street. I mean come on,” he shook his head from side to side, “really!”
Detective Sullivan hopped up from his seat and stood toe to toe with Savino. He scowled at him for a few seconds, and then looked down at Heemy. “Boy you better hope those bodies don’t turn up because if they do,” he returned his gaze to Savino, “I’m gonna have you and this fake ass Robert Shapiro standing in front of a jury sweating like a Boy Scout at the Neverland Ranch!”
Savino flexed his jaw muscles and squinted his eyes. “Trust me detective, I’m the last son of a bitch you want to see inside of a courtroom. My cross examination is so good that when I’m through with your stupid ass, your wife is gonna want a divorce, and your own mother will deny the day that she gave birth to you.” He winked his eye and smiled at him. “Trust me, I’m really that good.”
Enraged, Detective Sullivan grabbed his folder from the table, and then stormed out of the room. Savino smiled at Heemy and nodded his head. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll have you out of here by the weekend. Monday at the latest. Just so you know, your family said to tell you they love you.”
Heemy smiled, knowing that Savino was referring to Sonny and Rahmello. “Tell my family that I love ‘em even more.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Two Days Later...
It was the morning of Easy’s funeral, and the weather outside of the Baker Funeral Home was a chilly 42 degrees. Dark rain clouds turned the bright blue sky into a somber gray, and the mellow rumbling of thunder, coupled with the sporadic images of lightning, was a clear indicator that a storm was approaching.
A procession line of cars were lined up and down Broad Street, from Norris Street to Susquehanna Avenue, and every windshield was decorated with a fluorescent orange Funeral sticker. At the head of the procession, a black Mercedes Benz hearse was waiting to be loaded with Easy’s gold plated casket, and directly behind it was a black 2015 Mercedes Benz Sprinter van.
Sonny was standing beside the bulletproof van. He was holding Keyonti and talking to Daphney when someone walked up behind him and rested their hand on his shoulder. He glanced at the light skinned hand, and then noticed the uncomfortable look on Daphney’s face. An eerie feeling came over him and his body temperature elevated. Naw it can’t be him, he thought himself, hoping that the hand didn’t belong to his archenemy and estranged grandfather. He spun around and was relieved to discover that the hand belonged to Poncho.
“Sontino, how ju doin’?” Poncho asked with a fraudulent concern. He extended his right hand.
“I’m just rollin’ wit’ the punches,” Sonny replied as he looked hands with the old Columbian. He glanced over his right shoulder where Rahmello and the twins were strategically positioned around his the Sprinter van. They each had an H & K MP5 tucked inside of their Burberry London trench coats, and their eyes were scanning up and down Broad Street, looking for any signs of Sheed and his cohorts.
As the pallbearers exited the funeral home and began loading Easy’s casket in the back of the hearse, Poncho took a deep breath and shook his head in disappointment. “Ju poppa was fine man, Sontino. It’s a shame he died so violently.”
“Yeah,” Sonny agreed, feeling slightly uncomfortable. “But you can bet ya bottom dollar that whoever killed him is gonna face a thousand deaths. And after that, I’ma murder they whole family,” he continued with his voice full of determination.
Poncho cracked his knuckles and gritted his teeth. “Dis is to be expected of ju. I made de same exact vow when my Angelo was gunned down.” He fixed his eyes on Keyonti. “Is dis ju daughter? She is beautiful Sontino.” He reached out to caress the little girl’s face, but she cringed and started to cry. Sonny kissed her on the cheek, and then handed her to Daphney. “Wait for me in the van.”
She nodded her head, and then stood on her tippy toes to give him a kiss. As she opened the van’s side door, her intuition kicked in and she looked at Poncho suspiciously. She’d never met him before, but there was something about his body language that rubbed her the wrong way. After climbing inside of the van and settling into the black leather seat, she gazed out the tinted window and studied the interaction between Sonny and the strange Columbian. I don’t know exactly what it is, but somethin’ about this dude ain’t right, she quietly suspected.
On the other side of the tinted window, Poncho could feel her energy. He stared at her silhouette for a few seconds, and then returned his attention to Sonny. “I know dat dis is a bad time, but I never received de gift dat ju promised.”
“The gift?” Sonny looked at him skeptically. “What gift?”
“De gift from Mexico. Ju don’t remember?”
“Damn that’s right,” Sonny nodded his head. “My pops was supposed to have dropped that off to you the night before they found his body. They musta got him before he had the chance to come see you.”
“I figured dat,” Poncho confirmed. “He call me and tell me he comin’, but he never show up. Now, my friends in Mexico are askin’ all types of questions, and I have no answers.”
Sonny shrugged his shoulders. “Just tell ‘em it’s a done deal.”
“No papi, it’s not dat simple. I cannot say such a thing without having any proof. How can I be sure dat dis was even handled?”
“You can be sure because I’m standin’ here tellin’ you,” Sonny shot back, feeling slightly disrespected.
Slowly, Poncho shook his head from side to side. “I don’t know about dat, Sontino. For all I know, de gift could be in Hawaii on a beach enjoing de sunset. Most importantly, me and my brother gave you—”
Sonny held up his right hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “Stop right there, Poncho. I can see where this is goin’, and trust me that’s what we not gon’ do!” he continued in a calm voice. “You and ya brother asked me to handle a situation for y'all, and it was handled. My soldiers put their lives on the line, and with all due respect,” he shrugged his shoulders, “y’all ain't give us a goddamn thing. We earned those bricks and that’s that.”
Poncho’s face became red with anger. “Is dat right?”
“Absolutely,” Sonny maintained his position.
Poncho quickly suppressed his anger and displayed a fraudulent smile. “Ju know what Sontino, I have always known ju to be a man of ju word, and I was outta line for questioning ju integrity. Especially at a time like dis,” he gestured toward the hearse. “Please accept my deepest apologies and give ju family my condolences.”
“I appreciate that,” Sonny replied half heartedly.
Truth be told, he didn’t care if Poncho believed him or not. He’d already decided that the extra 100 keys that Poncho was referring to, belonged to him and his team. So basically, Poncho had two choices, respect it or check it.
“Okay Sontino, it’s time for me to go. Ju need time to take care of ju family.” He waved his left hand in the air, and signaled Estaban who was parked up the block in a triple black BMW 760. “When ju ready for ju next shipment, just gimmie a call and I’ll take care of ju as always.”
“Well since you brought it up,” Sonny said, “my lil’ brother Rahmello’s gonna be handling that side of the family from now on. So he’ll be the one contacting you.”
Poncho looked at him like he was crazy. “No, Sontino. I deat wit’ ju and ju only, not Rahmello.”
“Well fuck it,” Sonny shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner. “I guess we’ll have to take our money elsewhere. I’m sure the Italians in South Philly would love to do business wit’ him.”
“Well I guess it is settled.” Poncho shook Sonny’s hand, and then glanced at the Mercedes Benz hearse. “Sleep well my friend.”
Estaban pulled up beside the hearse and Poncho climbed in the passenger’s side.
He shut the door, and then looked in the backseat where Chee-Chee was clutching a cell phone in his right hand. “Just relax Chee-Chee. Not yet.” He looked at Estaban and gestured for him to pull off. “Vamanos.”
Estaban made a U-turn in the middle of Broad Street and cruised up the block. He pulled into the McDonald’s on Diamond Street, and parked in the first parking space facing Broad Street. He immediately noticed that six men were posted in the parking lot, standing beside three Yamaha R1s. Each motorcycle was jet black, and the six men were dressed in black riding suits and black helmets.
“What the fuck is up wit’ these niggas?” Estaban said to himself.
The six men were clearly out of place, and the tinted visors on their black helmets bolstered his suspicions. Poncho noticed them as well. He tapped Estaban on his shoulder. “Who de fuck is dat?”
“I don’t know.”
The six men hopped on their Yamahas, revved their engines, and then filed out of the parking lot in a single file line. Each motorcycle was carrying a rider and a passenger. Unbeknownst to Poncho and Estaban, the passengers were strapped with Uzi submachine guns, and their sole mission was to murder Sonny and Rahmello.
***
At the intersection of Broad and Berks, Sheed made a wide left turn, nearly sideswiping a white Mercedes Maybach. A black ski mask was covering his face and two Desert Eagles were resting in his lap. Rahman was sitting in the passenger’s seat and Jihad was seated behind him. Both of them were strapped with an AK-47.
***
Inside of the white Maybach, Malice was sitting in the passenger’s seat ice grilling the Mazda MPV that nearly sideswiped the front of their car. “Mr. Moreno, did ju see dat?” she cautioned. “De guys in dat van were wearing skimasks.”
“Yeah, I seen ‘em,” Grip replied from the backseat. He removed the nickel plated .10mm that was tucked in his shoulder holster and cocked a bullet into the chamber. “Muhammad stay close to that mini-van,” he instructed. He looked to his right where Murder was reaching for the two Mack 11s that were wedged in between her Ugg boots. “If these mutha’fuckas stop anywhere along this procession line we’re gonna hop out and go to work.”
Murder looked at him, and held up the Mack 11s. “Si, Mr. Moreno.”
***
Agent Long and Agent Brown were sitting behind the tinted windows on their Ford Excursion. They were the fifth vehicle in the procession line, and just like the rest of the people who attended funeral, they were waiting for Sonny, Rahmello, and the twins to hop in their Sprinter van so they could drive to the cemetery and finally lay Easy to rest.
As they sat there surveying the scene, three motorcycles cruised by and Agent Long instantly recognized that the passengers on the back of the bikes were strapped with Uzis. “Ain’t this a bitch!” He reached underneath his seat and retrieved his Glock 19. He looked at Agent Brown. “No matter what happens Monica, stay in the truck.” He hopped out the Excursion and took off running behind the motorcycles. “Yo, Sonny watch out! It’s a hit!”
***
Sonny had one foot inside of the Sprinter van when he heard the humming of the motorcycles and someone yelling, “Yo, Sonny, watch out! It’s a hit!”
He looked over the roof of the van and saw Kev running behind the motorcycles with his gun aimed in their direction. As the first bike cruised pass the van, the passenger aimed his Uzi and Kev fired his Glock from behind.
Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!
The bullets hit the passenger in his back, but they didn’t deter him from letting off a spray of gunfire.
Ttttttat! Ttttttat! Ttttttat!
Sonny, Rahmello, and the twins took cover behind the bulletproof Sprinter van as the rapid gunfire rocked it from side to side. Kev continued shooting as the passenger on the second bike opened fire.
Ttttttat! Ttttttat!
Sonny pulled out his FNH .45, rolled off of the back left fender, and returned fire.
Bdddddoom! Bdddddoom! Bdddddoom!
Rahmello and the twins followed suit.
Pdddddat! Pdddddat! Pdddddat!
The driver of the first motorcycle was struck several times. He lost control of his bike and crashed into the MPV that was driving up the block. His passenger was thrown from the motorcycle, and he slammed into the MPV’s windshield face first.
Crash!
The passenger on the second motorcycle was riddled with bullets, and he fell off the back of the bike. His driver switched gears and gunned the R1 down Broad Street with the third motorcycle hot on his trail.
Despite being severely wounded, the passenger who fell off of the second motorcycle aimed his Uzi at Kev who was still shooting at the fleeing motorcycles.
Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!
Just as the wounded passenger was about to squeeze his trigger, Sonny peeped him out the corner of his eye. “Yo Kev, watch ya back bro!” He swung his FNH in the direction of the wounded passenger and squeezed.
Bdddddoom!
The .45 bullets blazed through his helmet and visor, laying him out flat. Kev looked at Sonny, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Good lookin’ Ike.”
Sonny responded with a head nod.
The intersection of Broad and Norris was nothing short of pandemonium. Spent shell casings and broken glass littered the street. The smell of burnt gunpowder hung in the air, and the rapid succession of gunfire left a foggy mist. The cars in the procession line were attempting to flee, causing traffic jams and minor accidents. For those who couldn’t drive away, their only option was to abandon their cars and run for cover.
***
As soon as the gunfire stopped, Sheed, Rahman, and Jihad hopped out of the MPV and picked up where the shooters on the motorcycles left off.
Brrrrroc! Brrrrroc! Brrrrroc! Brrrrroc!
Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom! Doom!
Sonny, Rahmello, and the twins dipped behind the Sprinter van again. Their ammunition was depleted and with their family was trapped inside of the van, they saw no way out.
“Damn brozay!” Rahmello shouted over the gunfire. What the fuck we gon’ do?”
“I don’t know!” Sonny shouted back. He looked to his right and saw Kev running toward them. “Damn Kev, you ran outta bullets too?”
“Yeah,” the undercover agent replied. “This shit is fuckin’ crazy!”
Inside of the van, Daphney quickly realized that they ran out of bullets. She cracked the side door and shouted, “Hurry up y’all! Get in the van!”
***
Grip, followed by Murder and Malice, hopped out of the Maybach and got busy. They ambushed Sheed and his crew from behind.
Moc! Moc! Moc! Moc! Moc!
Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc!
A hail of bullets ripped through Jihad’s muscular frame killing him instantly. Rahman ran to take cover behind an abandoned Audi, but a succession of bullets danced up his back, and spun him around. “Agggghhhh!” he grimaced in pain as he crashed into the Audi’s back fender. “Lil’ cuzzo, I’m hit!”
Sheed aimed his Desert Eagles at Malice, but when he squeezed the trigger nothing happened. Confused, he looked at both of his pistols and discovered that the hammers were locked back. “Fuck!” he shouted in frustration. He was so caught up in his emotions that he forgot the number one rule when it came to a shootout, keep a count of the number of bullets fired. He looked at Malice who was swinging her Mack 11s in his direction. She wasted no time.
Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc! Bdddddoc!
The bullets missed their target as he dove behind a bullet riddled Lexus. He looked to his left and saw Rahman lying on his side. “Lil’ cuzzo, I can’t breathe!” he cried out. Thick globs of dark blood were pouring from his nose and mouth, and Sheed realized that there was nothing he could do for him with two empty weapons. He spotted Rahman’s AK-47 lying on the ground beside him, and he crawled toward it. He was centimeters away from the assault rifle when Rahman shouted, “Sheed watch out!” He glanced over his shoulder and the only thing he saw was the smoking barrel of Grip’s
.10mm.
Moc! Moc! Moc! Moc!
“Nooooo!” Rahman screamed as the back of Sheed’s head burst open and his brains splashed against the pavement. He reached for his AK-47, but a sharp pain shot through his chest and he quickly pulled back his hand. He coughed uncontrollably and a thick glob of blood shot from his mouth. His insides were burning and his lungs were growing weaker by the second. He heard sirens in the near distance and silently prayed that the police arrived on the scene before his adversaries had the chance to finish him off.
Grip, Murder, and Malice heard the sirens as well, and realized that they had to move quickly. Grip and Malice ran toward his Maybach, and Murder hopped up on the hood of the Audi. She aimed her Mack 11s at Rahman’s baldhead. “Hey punta!”
He looked up.
Bdddddoc!
She jumped off the Audi and ran toward the Maybach where Grip and Malice were safely inside. As she settled into the backseat, Muhammad threw the transmission in reverse. He backed the car halfway down the block, and then whipped it around and headed south on Broad Street.
***
Seconds later a plethora of Philadelphia police cruisers arrived on the scene, but due to the massive traffic jam they were forced to stop at the corner of Broad and Norris. They hopped out with their guns drawn, and couldn’t believe the carnage that lay before them.
***
Inside of the Mercedes Sprinter van, the women and children were huddled on the floor, and the men were staring at one another in disbelief. They would have never imagined that Grip would be the one to save their lives. Had he and his people not taken action when they did it would have only been a matter of time before the high caliber bullets decimated the van’s bulletproof exterior.
Sonny looked out the back window and saw the police cruisers at the bottom of the block.
“Damn, we gotta stash these burners ‘fore the cops come,” he said while removing his suit jacket. “Here,” he handed the jacket to Zaire, “use this to wrap up all the guns.” He handed over his FNH, and Egypt and Kev did the same. “Mello give him ya’ burner.”