by Carl Weber
“What are you doing?” I asked in a panic as I watched the Lamborghini and other cars continue down the street. “You’re letting him get away.”
The driver turned to Daryl and said, “Dis is as far as I can take you. I can’t go no further. Tivoli Gardens is de most dangerous part of West Kingston, and I value my life. I don’t know who dat white man is, but if he traveling somewhere in dere, den he is a very bad mon. White men are not welcome in dat area, especially ones with fancy cars. You are not familiar in dese parts, and someone will see you, and you will not make it back out.”
“What if I give you a thousand dollars U.S.?” Daryl asked.
He shook his head. “Can’t spend it if I’m dead.”
Daryl nodded as if he understood what the man was saying. “Is there a hotel near that building we came from?”
“Dere is one not far from there, but it is not a fancy hotel. It is more like a motel,” the driver told him.
“Take us there.”
“I’m not staying in some beat-up motel,” I objected.
“London, don’t start.” The look Daryl gave me made me feel ashamed. “Now is not the time for us to be checking into the Four Seasons. You’re starting to sound like your sister Paris.”
“Fine,” I relented. “This is my nephew we’re talking about.”
“Take us to the place,” Daryl told the driver; then he dialed Vegas’s phone to tell him what was going on.
Ruby
33
Vincent and I had just finished eating lunch, and I was clearing the table when I heard the front door open. For a second, I was about to lose my mind on one of the men for not knocking, until I realized it was my husband. I hadn’t expected him home, especially in the middle of the day.
“There’s my beautiful wife and my son!” he announced happily as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hi, Daddy!” Vincent jumped up from the table and ran over to hug him.
“And what are you doing home so early?” I said, wiping my hands on a dish towel.
“I came home to kiss my wife.” Vinnie lifted me off the ground and spun me until I was dizzy.
“Vinnie, if you don’t put me down, so help me, I’ll beat you wit’ a broom!” I said, playfully slapping his shoulder. He laughed as he lowered me to the floor.
“What has gotten into you?” I asked, enjoying this lighter side of Vinnie that I didn’t get to see very often.
“I have a surprise for you,” he told me.
“A surprise? What kinda surprise?” I asked.
Vincent jumped up and down excitedly. “I want a surprise, Daddy! Do you have a surprise for me too?”
“Vincent, stop jumping in de house. Let your father talk,” I said.
“Yes, I have a surprise for you too.” Vinnie kissed him then reached into a bag he was carrying and handed him a toy robot.
“A Transformer!” Vincent beamed, showing it to me.
“You spoil ’im too much,” I scolded, though I secretly loved the fact that he did.
“He deserves it—and so do you.”
“Do I? So, what’s my surprise? Tell me,” I said, feeling butterflies in my stomach. He was more excited than I had ever seen him, and it was kind of contagious.
“I can show you better than I can tell you.”
“All right then, show me.” I held my hand out for him to place whatever it was into my palm.
“You’re going to need more hands,” he said with a laugh, then dumped the contents of his bag onto the table. I couldn’t believe how much American money was piled up. I looked around, paranoid that one of his henchmen might see it. “It’s for you,” he told me. “To buy a new house back in the States in a few months.”
“Vinnie, where’d you get all this money?” Despite my curiosity about the origins of the money, I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face at the thought of returning to the U.S.
“Larry Duncan gave it to me,” Vinnie said.
Well, that was enough to wipe away my smile. My heart dropped.
“Aren’t the Duncans the bad people, Daddy?” Vincent sounded frightened. “They want to kill us, remember?”
Vinnie patted our son on the head to reassure him. “Not this Duncan, sport. This Duncan is going to make us rich and kill all the other Duncans for us.”
I looked over at my son. He looked relieved, but I sure didn’t feel the same way. “Vincent, take your Transformer and go outside and play while Daddy and I talk.”
“But, Mommy, I want to hear Daddy’s story about the Duncans being killed.” He sounded disappointed.
“That’s not talk for little boys.” I walked over to the door that led to the backyard. “I’ll come and get you when it’s time for us to go get ice cream.”
Hearing that he would be getting ice cream was enough motivation for him to run out the back door without having to be told twice. Once we were alone, I went back to the conversation my husband had started.
“Vinnie, are you crazy? We talked about dis,” I told him. “Why would you meet wit’ him? Dat man is not de answer to your prayers. He’s a Duncan.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong there.” He pulled me into his arms and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “This is an opportunity that I couldn’t pass up. Larry Duncan is just as hell bent on getting rid of LC and his family as we are. Ruby, he’s taking care of them for us. They aren’t even gonna be thinking about you, me, or Vincent, because they’re gonna have too much other shit to deal with.”
I shook my head nervously. “I don’t trust ’im, Vinnie, and neither should you. How do you know dis not some kind of setup?”
“It’s not, baby.” He picked up one of the rolls of money. “Besides, he just gave us a million reasons to trust him.”
“You don’t know dat, Vinnie. He may be planning to kill both of us right now and take my son.” I started to panic and pace the floor. “The Duncans are rich; dis money means nothing to dem.”
“Ruby, calm down. It’s not a setup, and he’s not gonna try anything. I made sure of that,” Vinnie told me.
“How?”
“He knows I’m just as crazy as he is. I killed a motherfucker right there in front of him and his sons for no reason other than to prove a point. Shot him right in the head.” Vinnie’s laugh was so sinister that I was almost afraid of him. I knew there had to be some loss of life in the line of work my husband was in—I had learned that from my brother—but to hear him laugh about shooting a man in cold blood for sport wasn’t something that sat well with me. I had to wonder if I truly knew the man I had married.
Vegas
34
An hour after Rio landed, we were in an SUV parked on the far side of the airfield, which provided us with a front row seat to whatever was about to go down. We scoped out the location with binoculars and set our walkie-talkies on the same channel as the DEA and police teams that were waiting next to the runway. I’d had Junior make a few calls to our friends in law enforcement, who we kept on the payroll for moments like this. In addition to them, we also had our own people and plan in place.
“I talked to some folks up in the tower, and the plane is supposed to land in about ten minutes,” Junior said, opening the door and climbing in where Paris, my dad, and I were already positioned.
“Is everyone in place?” I asked.
“Yeah, Orlando and Sasha are at the terminal.”
“And the rest of our people?” I questioned. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Junior, but we just couldn’t fuck this up.
“We have one of our people at every exit and major intersection within a three-mile radius. They’re ready,” Junior assured me.
“You tell them what I said?” Pop asked. He had been very specific with his instructions. He wasn’t taking any chances.
“I did. But you sure about this?” Junior asked.
“Yes, I’m sure,” Pop answered. “What makes you think I’m not?”
I answered for both of us, because Junior and I shared the
same concerns. “He is your brother, and they are your nephews. We just wanna make sure, that’s all, Pop.”
“Uncle Larry wasn’t thinking about none of that shit when he shot Daddy. Fuck him. Take his ass out and his whack-ass sons too. Shit, they damn sure weren’t worried about our being family when they pulled their guns out on us down in Waycross,” Paris interjected with her usual take-no-prisoners attitude.
“Paris makes a good point. If they give you any resistance or a reason, take them out,” Pop said without hesitation.
“A’ight, Pop, don’t worry. If the feds don’t get them, one of our people will.” I clamped a firm hand on my dad’s shoulder. Although he was cool and calm, I knew this was hard for him, and I wanted him to know we had his back.
The sound of aircraft caused me to grab my binoculars and aim them at the sky. Sure enough, a small plane was approaching the tiny runway. It landed with a bounce, and before it even came to a complete stop, at least a dozen vans and unmarked cars rushed toward it, blocking its path. Officers armed with guns, wearing helmets and bulletproof vests, jumped out of the vehicles.
We all watched as the door to the plane opened and a tall, skinny guy climbed out with his hands up. Within seconds, they had him on the ground. We waited for my uncle and cousins to follow suit, but they didn’t.
“You! In the plane! Come out with your hands up,” a voice yelled through a loudspeaker.
“Where the fuck are they?” Paris hissed.
“They’re not going down without a fight. I know my brother. He’s not giving up that easy, if at all,” Pop told her.
After a twenty-minute standoff, the cops took position around the plane, throwing tear gas into the opening the pilot had exited. They waited a few more minutes, but still no one exited, so they stormed the plane.
“No shots,” I said, pressing the binoculars against my eyes. “Why the fuck don’t I hear any shots?”
“Silencers, maybe?” Junior asked.
“No, maybe Larry and the boys, but I didn’t see any of those cops with silencers.” The next thing we saw were bales of marijuana being tossed out the back of the plane, one by one.
“Damn, that’s a lot of weed for such a little-ass plane,” Paris commented as the five officers who had stormed the plane exited—with still no sign of Uncle Larry, Curtis, or Kenny.
“What the fuck is going on? Where the hell are they?” I asked.
“Should know in a second. That’s Captain Wilcox calling me now.” Junior put the call on speaker so we could all listen. “Hello.”
“This is Captain Wilcox, I—”
Junior didn’t let the man finish his sentence. “I don’t have time for pleasantries, Captain. Did you get them?”
“We got almost thirty bales of marijuana and the pilot, but your uncle and his sons weren’t on the plane.”
“Captain, this is LC Duncan. What do mean they weren’t on the plane?” Pop cut in, moving closer to the phone. “They were on the damn thing when it took off.”
“The pilot said he stopped in Maryland to refuel, and that’s where they got out, Mr. Duncan,” the captain replied. “I’ll give your son a chance to interrogate him if you’d like, but that’s about all I can do.”
Pop let out a frustrated sigh. “Thank you, Captain. I think we’ll take you up on that. My sons will be in touch,” he said, and then Junior ended the call.
“What do we do now?” Paris asked.
“We wait until my brother makes his next move. And if I know him, it won’t take very long.” Pop sat back in his seat. “Vegas, you and Junior go see this pilot. I wanna know everything he knows about Larry, Vinnie, or anybody else involved with them. My brother may have given us the slip this time, but as your grandmother used to say, I’ve always been the smartest one of her boys.”
Larry
35
“This makes no sense whatsoever. We could be in New York by now, instead of on the Jersey Turnpike,” Kenny complained from the back seat. “I don’t understand why we got off the plane.”
“First of all, I done told you about questioning what I do. Secondly, who said I didn’t have business in Jersey?” I replied, handing my cell phone to Curtis so he could read a text message I’d just received. “I been in this business a long time, Kenny, and I learned to trust my gut. My gut told me to get off that damn plane. Now, stop complaining. You’re starting to aggravate me.”
“No offense, Pop, but there’s a first time for everything,” Kenny said, pouting like a little bitch. “Maybe that feeling in your gut was a stomachache.”
“Oh, really?” I replied. “Curtis, show your brother that text message.”
Curtis shook his head, handing my phone to his brother. Kenny read it and became unusually silent. The message was from Jamaica John, telling us that the pilot had been arrested and the plane was confiscated by the DEA.
“Humph! Cat got his tongue now, huh?” Momma shouted to me. “He need to start listening to his father. You ain’t a stupid man, and he should know that. Or else you should put your foot in his ass.”
“I think you owe Dad an apology, Kenny,” Curtis snapped.
Kenny hesitated for a minute then grudgingly said, “Sorry, Dad.”
“I don’t know why we gotta keep bumping heads, Kenny. You’re my son and I love you, but you have to stop second-guessing me.”
“I know, but . . .”
“But what, Kenny?” Curtis sounded a little agitated himself. “If we listened to you, we’d all be in jail right now, sharing jelly sandwiches with that damn bush pilot!”
“There you go! Tell him about himself, Curtis!” Momma shouted.
“Turn off here at this exit,” I instructed Curtis. A few minutes later, we passed a sign that announced we’d just entered Mount Laurel, New Jersey. “Go in there where it says Sage Diner.”
Curtis pulled into the parking lot, and we all got out.
“Momma, we’ll be right back. Kenny, grab one of those bricks and put it in the bag.”
The parking lot was fairly empty. Somehow, we had managed to miss the lunch crowd and beat the dinner one, so the timing was perfect. We walked inside, and sure enough, the only diners were a small group of older men sitting in a corner near the rear of the diner.
“Can I help you?” a heavyset guy in his fifties asked.
“Yeah, I’m looking for Joey the Wop,” I told him.
“You mean Joey?” the guy asked again. “I take offense to the name Wop.”
I gave a nod. “Yeah, whatever.”
I looked past the first guy to see Joey sitting at the end of a table in back. Joey was Italian and well into his late fifties, but he still didn’t look a day over thirty-five. His wavy hair was slicked back, and in typical Joey fashion, his white shirt was unbuttoned to show off the gold chains he wore.
“Come on, boys.” I walked past the guy and headed for Joey.
“Larry Duncan.” Joey smiled when he looked up and saw me approaching the table. “The last time I saw you, we were in a holding cell. I went to prison—”
“And I went to the fucking crazy house.” I finished the sentence for him. “I’m gonna make your day, Joey. I got something really special for you.”
“Oh yeah? What you got for me?” Joey asked.
“It’s a gift.” I had to hold back a laugh because most of the time, this was when I would pull out my gun and shoot the poor bastard. Instead, I turned to Kenny and said, “Give him the bag.”
Kenny handed him the bag, and Joey looked inside to see the ki of heroin it held. He handed it to one of his men and said, “Take this in the back and test it.” The man got up and disappeared through the kitchen door.
“So, Larry, you do know there’s a substantial price on your head, right?” Joey asked as we waited.
“So I’ve been told. You planning on collecting?” He had no idea I had a hand grenade in my pocket and would have no problem pulling the trigger.
“I guess that depends on how good that dope you
just gave us is. I’m a long-term thinker. Plus, I hate that bastard LC for killing my uncle Sal and cousin Tony.” He sat back in his seat, and no one at the table said much, until his man returned and whispered something in his ear. Joey smiled like a kid on Christmas. “So that brick you gave me. That’s a gift?”
“How much is LC selling these to you for?” I asked.
“Forty-five a brick.”
I let out a long whistle, looking at him pitifully. “Wow, that’s expensive!”
“Really. I thought that was pretty fair, actually. How much you selling yours for?”
“Tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna let you have this one for free, and when you need more, I’m gonna let you get it for thirty.”
“What?” Joey’s eyes widened in surprise, and everyone at the table started shifting in their seats like they were trying to contain their excitement. I now had their full attention.
Once he had a minute to get himself under control again, Joey must have thought things through a little more, because all of a sudden he looked at me suspiciously. “Hold on. This shit right here is pure. We could step on it three, four times and nobody would know the difference. What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” I said calmly. “I’m just setting the new price for the market. Tell your friends. I’ll be in touch in forty-eight hours.” I turned to walk out.
“Larry, wait. I got a question for you. How much of this shit you got?” Joey asked.
I turned back around to face him. “More than you can sell. Spread the word, Joey. Larry Duncan is back in business.” I tossed him the hand grenade with the pin still intact. He and his buddies looked like they were about to shit themselves as I walked out of the diner with Curtis and Kenny.
“Why would you sell it to him so cheap? We easily coulda got thirty-five, forty,” Kenny said.