Murder Corporation

by Victor Methos

  “Nah uh,” Ty said. “So she can drop a dime and call your boys? I’m fine talkin’ in front of her. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Leo.” Ty quickly glanced around. “Anyone else here?”

  “Nah.”

  “Don’t lie to me ‘cause if I see someone else here I’ma blast ‘em.”

  “Nah man, just me and my girl.”

  “Sit down.”

  Leo sat on the couch as I shut the door behind me and leaned against it. Ty put his gun away and walked across the living room to a closet. He opened it and scanned inside a few seconds before shutting it again.

  “You been hidin’ from me?” Ty said.

  “Nah man, I just been chillin’. I don’t go out much no more, ya know?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. Society’s crumblin’ all around us. It’s hard to watch.” He checked under the cushions of the couch. “See but it’s funny, though, ‘cause you were supposed to call me with details on a shipment a yayo. You remember that?”

  “Yeah, man, that shit fell through. Ya know, just didn’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “I dunno. Just didn’t happen. People get scared.”

  “Yeah,” Ty said, going into the kitchen and looking through the cupboards. “Hey, Baby Boy, if that fool moves, shoot him in the head.”

  I took out my firearm. I held it low and saw the contempt mingled with fear in the eyes of the woman. She was attractive and wore a tight skirt with a tubetop shirt. She winked at me and smiled.

  “Hey yo,” Leo whispered to me. “Yo don’t toss my place, man. My girl, yo. She gives head like you wouldn’t believe. Best in your life, yo. You can have her. Just don’t toss my shit.”

  Ty yelled out, “What’re you talkin’ about out there, Leo? You tryin’ to convince my boy that we should leave?”

  Leo didn’t respond as Ty went through the rest of the cupboards. He checked the fridge and the oven and then went into the bathroom and spent a few minutes in there. When he came out, he sat on the edge of a loveseat across from Leo and his girl and placed his hands open on his thighs.

  “Where is it?” he said.

  “What?” Leo said, looking away.

  “Leo…look at me…where is it?”

  “I dunno know what you mean, holmes. You got me twisted. I ain’t like that.”

  “Like what? I haven’t told you what I’m lookin’ for.”

  “Whatever it is, I ain’t got it.”

  Ty exhaled loudly through his nose. He reached down and took a revolver out of his ankle holster, the same one he had threatened to plant on Marvin, and took the six rounds out. He placed five of them on the coffee table. He put one round in the cylinder and spun it and pointed the weapon at Leo’s head.

  “Where is it?”

  “Yo, I’m serious, man. I ain’t got nothin’ here.”

  Ty smiled, and pulled the trigger. Leo jumped with a yelp, like he was a dog that had just been kicked. The dry click of the weapon seemed to echo off the walls and Ty let it hang there for as long as he could.

  He spun the cylinder again and then pointed the weapon at Leo’s head. “Where is it?”

  “Hey, man, this ain’t funny. I’m serious. Put that shit away.”

  Ty pulled the trigger. Leo flinched and threw his hands up like that would protect him. Ty spun the cylinder again and pointed it.

  “Hey,” Leo said, “cut that shit out, Ty. I ain’t playin’.”

  “Where is it?” Ty said.

  “Hey, man, I want my lawyer, ya heard? I want—”

  Ty pressed the trigger again. Another dry click.

  “Oh, gettin’ lucky, Leo. Three straight shots and your brains are still in your head. Only three shots left, you ready?”

  “Hey, man, don’t,” he said as Ty lifted the weapon again. “Don’t, I’m serious. Please, yo. Please…Ty…Ty!”

  Another dry click.

  “All right!” Leo yelled, ducking behind the girl on the couch. “All right, man.”

  “All right what?”

  “It’s that fool Jordan, man. He’s got the shit. It’s him.”

  “What’s he doin’ with thirty keys?”

  “He said he had a buyer, man. Said some dude was takin’ for sixty-five a key.”

  Ty looked impressed. “And who’d be throwin’ around that kinda cash?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s too bad, Leo,” Ty said, raising the gun.

  “No, man, I swear, he didn’t say nothin’. I’ll give you his address, man. You go down and talk to him.”

  Ty held the gun in place a few seconds and then said, “Okay,” before putting it back in its holster. “Your last two shots in exchange for an address.”

  CHAPTER 5

  We left the apartment complex and when we got outside I saw a group of kids hanging out in the parking lot. They were on low rider bikes and a few of them had skateboards. Underneath their shirts I saw the bulges of guns.

  “Even the kids are armed,” I mumbled to myself.

  Ty looked back at me and then forward again. “Don’t hold it against ‘em. If they didn’t arm themselves, every punk in the neighborhood would be robbin’ ‘em for their shoes. You can’t even buy an ice cream from the ice cream truck out here without gettin’ some interest.”

  We got back to my Jeep and climbed in. I pulled out and noticed the boys looking at us and then away. I put the address into Google Maps on my iPhone and started following its directions.

  “We need to work on you,” Ty said.

  “Work on me how?”

  “You look like a cop.”

  “How does a cop look?”

  “Like you got a gun and a chip on your shoulder. You need to relax and relax your appearance too. You’re not getting medals for shavin’ every day. Let your beard grow out, you look too young. You got any tats?”

  “Tattoos? Just one.”

  “Where?”

  I pulled up the sleeve on my right arm, revealing the black ink of a United States Army symbol with two eagles tearing into it with their talons. Two rifles were crossed over the middle.

  “That looks like shit,” Ty said.

  “I had one of my buddies in Iraq do it with a pen gun.”

  We drove down the freeway and I had to weave to avoid a Cadillac that cut us off. We got near our exit when Ty’s cell phone buzzed and he answered.

  “Yeah, this is R…yeah…right now?…yeah, we were in the middle of somethin’…no, no just head back to the farm and wait for us.”

  He hung up and said, “Go back to the farm.”

  “The farm?”

  “Downtown Command.”

  I got off the exit and then hopped back on the freeway heading in the opposite direction. I got off on exit 32 and went through a residential area before coming to Downtown Command. It was a triangular building with no decorations, surrounded by police cruisers and SWAT vans. We parked in front and I got out of the Jeep, feeling pain running up and down my body, radiating in the spots I’d been shot. I tried not to show it as we walked across the parking lot and into the building.

  Downtown Command was quiet compared to some of the other precincts. It was closed to the public, which meant there wasn’t a steady stream of drunks and victims coming through. I never really spent much time here, though I had come out for some administrative classes regarding health benefits, retirement, death benefits to loved ones.

  We walked past a sea of cubicles and turned left through an open door into what looked like a living room with lockers set up against the wall. There were worn out couches and recliners, a flatscreen television on the wall. In an adjacent room, three men sat at a table playing poker.

  “What’s up, ladies?” Ty said, taking us into the room. They all responded and then glared at me. “This is Baby Boy,” he said.

  “The rook?” a tall man with spikey hair said. “What’s up, Rook?”

  Ty pointed his finger at the man that had spoken. “Dax.” He pointed
to a blond man that appeared like he could have been twenty-two. “Trevor.” He pointed to the last man who was older and black with a beard. “Caleb.”

  “Where you comin’ from, Rook?” Dax said.

  Ty answered, “Baby Boy’s from the mall district. We’re gonna have to pop his cherry for him.”

  Caleb threw a flush down on the table. “Eat it, bitches.”

  The other men groaned and Dax leaned back and put his hands behind his head as Caleb pulled the money toward himself.

  “So we got him?” Ty said.

  “In a condo up on Harmon with one of his hoochies. Been there all day. Surveillance just checked in five minutes ago and he’s still there.”

  “All right, gear up. We’ll meet you guys up there.”

  Ty walked into the living room. “You’re with me.”

  We went to the lockers. There was one marked “Davis” with some white tape and marker. Ty ripped it off. “This is yours. Kevlar vest, shotgun, 9 mm, tear gas. All in there. You wear Kevlar on every run, no matter what. You sleep with it until you’re used to it. Got it?”

  “Yeah.”

  The other men came in and began changing. Dax was talking about some woman he had slept with the previous night and was describing the funky positions he had been trying since the woman had been totally drunk and near passing out. Caleb and Trevor ignored me.

  I opened the locker and found even more than Ty had said. I saw a few handguns, a plastic face-shield, a gasmask, a Taser, and military-grade mace. I began to put the Kevlar on over my shirt and then noticed that the rest of the guys were putting theirs on under their shirts and then letting their badges dangle on chains around their necks. I put my vest on underneath too and took out the shotgun.

  Ty looked like he was going into battle. He had two firearms and was holding a 12 gauge under his arm.

  “Let’s go,” he said without looking up from his phone.

  We went outside and he got into the passenger seat of my Jeep. He was texting someone and didn’t speak or look up until they had replied. Then he tucked the phone away into his pocket and looked at me.

  “Well? What are you waiting for?” he said.

  “Where we going?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I started the Jeep. “No, guess not.”

  We got back onto the freeway and drove north for about fifteen minutes before exiting and driving another half an hour through residential streets before getting to Harmon. The block didn’t have many people walking around or hanging on corners and there wasn’t as much garbage as I had expected. Some of the houses were rundown, some weren’t. It was difficult to tell the make-up of the neighborhood since there was a lot of contrasting information: Lexuses next to beater vans next to BMWs. We passed a convenience store advertising slots and .99 cent beer.

  “Take a left and then another left,” Ty said.

  I did and we ended up in front of a white condominium complex. They were stacked on top of each other like boxes, trying to cram as many people into as small a space as possible, and it made me think of rats clawing and tearing at each other for a small bit of sewer or basement.

  Ty called someone on his phone. “We ready?…Okay, meet me out front.” He jumped out of the Jeep, grabbing the 12 gauge he’d had leaning between his legs. “Let’s go.”

  We crossed the street and came to the front of the condos. I saw a van across the street; a minivan with blacked-out back windows. A man leaned out of the driver’s window and gave a thumbs up.

  Dax, Caleb, and Trevor ran up from around the block. We waited until they were near.

  “Cal and Trevor, out back. Dax, you’re with me and Baby Boy. Keep your eyes open and shoot only if you have to.”

  Caleb and Trevor took off through the complex and Ty held up his hand, indicating for us to wait. When the other two men were out of sight, Ty signaled for us to follow.

  We reached a courtyard with a fountain that didn’t work. Pigeons had gathered around it, picking at the few crumbs that were on the ground. We circled around and up to the first box building. Past the first glass doors was another locked door that you had to buzz through. Ty looked to Dax and nodded.

  Dax went up to the glass door through which we could see an empty lobby, and took out what looked like a metal credit card hooked to a small battery. He slid the credit card down the slot of the door and it made a pulsating metallic sound as Dax opened it and let us through.

  It was cool inside and the lobby was much cleaner than the exterior would let on. Gold-colored mailboxes were set along one wall and led to a set of two elevators. The three of us hopped on and Dax hit the button for the ninth floor.

  The elevator music was something played on a xylophone and Dax started slightly bobbing his head in tune to the music as we stood quietly and leaned against the elevator walls. When it stopped we stepped off without a word, Ty holding his 12 gauge in front of him as we went down the hall.

  The carpeting was something one might buy in a Middle Eastern rug store and the walls had exquisite gold-leaf trim.

  “The carpet probably costs more than your car,” Dax whispered to me. “Dope dealers, the smart ones, don’t buy mansions. They live in shitholes and just fix ‘em up nice.”

  “Shh,” Ty said as we got to the apartment at the end of the hall. He looked back to Dax who pointed to the apartment across from it, and we put our backs to that wall. “I go first,” Ty said. “Any gunfire, you guys come in blazin’.”

  Ty slid over to the door. He glanced at us and nodded and Dax nodded back. I held my shotgun low and could feel my heart pounding against my vest. It was a familiar feeling from long ago and it felt the same way every time: pounding heart, loss of breath, and a sick feeling in my gut like I was going to vomit.

  Ty reached over and knocked on the door and then leaned back against the wall. After a few seconds of silence a female voice said, “Who is it?”

  “I’m here for Billy Dawg. Is he here?”

  “No.”

  “I just need some glass. I’m achin’. They said downstairs he would sell me some glass.”

  Dax looked back to me and leaned close. “He’s a meth dealer. His real name’s Remy somethin’.”

  “We ain’t got no glass. Now get your ass outta my house.”

  Ty waited a beat and then said, “Ok, well where can I get some? ‘Cause they said downstairs—”

  “I don’t care what they said downstairs. Now get your ass outta here.”

  “Hey relax, they just told me you would deal. I’ll leave.”

  Ty looked back at us and put his finger to his lips, telling us to be quiet.

  I didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure I was breathing. I just listened to the noises coming from the apartment. There was nothing at first and then I heard some mumbling, a female voice, and then the lock slid open and the door came apart from the frame a few inches.

  The woman’s face was barely out the door when Ty spun around and bashed his heel just under the doorknob. The chain that was bolted to the door tore off as splinters of wood rained down over the floor. The woman screamed and Ty grabbed her by the back of the neck and spun her out into the hallway. I caught her just as she was about to fall. She was tan with red lips and long black hair. If I had been thinking clearly, I would’ve noticed that she looked like a Mexican soap opera star. Instead, I guided her to the ground and told her to put her hands on her head.

  Dax stood motionless for a few seconds and then ran in after Ty. I cuffed the girl and ran after them.

  The apartment was decorated like a palace and was flooded with light from the dozens of windows. Ty scanned the area, swinging the shotgun left and right in long arcs. He ran right and Dax ran left in an established routine I didn’t know. I stayed where I was and inched my way across the living room until I reached the couch. I could see both of them as they peered into bedrooms and bathrooms.

  I looked across the leather couches to the massive flatscreen and saw the closet just t
o the right. My guts tightened.

  I walked over quietly, trying to make sure I didn’t make the hardwood floors creak. Once I was next to the door I placed my hand on the doorknob. I took a deep breath and twisted it open.

  A jarring impact to my nose, and my head flicked back as another blow came at me. I ducked, not sure what it was that had hit me, and avoided the second blow.

  My nose was bleeding and my vision was blurry. I stepped back as another blow came at me. I lifted my shotgun and bashed forward with the butt blindly. I felt a crunch and resistance and knew that I had made contact with something. I took another step back and saw a man with his shirt off holding a baseball bat. He lifted his head, and our eyes locked.

  He pulled back and swung and I held the shotgun out with both hands and it took the blow as I rushed in and shoulder-checked him in the chest. He flew back and I swung with the butt. It crashed into his jaw as he went off his feet and onto his back. He tried to get up again when Dax’s 12 gauge pressed against the top of his skull.

  “Howdy, Remy,” Dax said with a big smile.

  Remy didn’t say anything. He lay back and tried to catch his breath as Ty came into the living room and sat down on the couch. Remy looked up to him.

  “Dead man walkin’,” Remy said out of breath.

  “We’re all dead men walkin’,” Ty said, putting his feet up on the glass coffee table. “Remy, I didn’t think you had the balls to come back. Where were you, Juarez?”

  Remy didn’t respond.

  “That’s what I heard anyway, that you were in Juarez. What were you doin’ there?”

  Remy didn’t respond.

  “Dax?” Ty said.

  Dax slammed the heel of his boot down onto Remy’s face. He hit him so hard his head bounced off the floor. Remy instinctively covered himself for protection but Dax pressed his other foot against one of Remy’s arms, leaving half his head exposed.

  “What were you doin’ there, Remy?” Ty said.

  There was no response and Dax slammed the boot into him again. I looked to Ty but he was fixated on the man lying helpless on the floor.

  “I heard,” Ty said, “you was findin’ a sicario. Is that right? Who you wanna kill that you need a sicario?”