“Maybe, but this is the man who went down to Mexico and capped a cartel leader in his own crib. He also took down the Brotherhood and the Conglomerate. If he was easy to kill he’d have been buried a long time ago.”
“Bullshit, he’ll die like anybody else.”
They were in Biggs’s home, in the living room. The space was sparsely furnished. It was a townhouse that had recently belonged to a Wall Street tycoon. Biggs had yet to furnish it fully and their voices echoed off the walls. Tyrese was seated in a chair, while Biggs paced before him in front of a dormant fireplace.
When Tyrese spoke again, there was a pleading quality to his words.
“Why not leave the Washingtons alone? Jerold is dead, killing them won’t hurt him because he won’t know about it. Take the deal, and we’ll avoid a world of grief.”
The punch was unexpected and knocked Tyrese onto the floor. He was dazed, having been struck on the side of the head, but he remained conscious. Biggs stood over him, eyes vicious with the rage emanating from them.
“Grief? You think I don’t know about grief? My baby daughter is dead because of Jerold Washington and I swore that I would kill him and anything he ever loved. No, I won’t take any fucking deals. Let Tanner come after me. I’ll put that muthafucka in the ground.”
* * *
Biggs sent Tanner his answer at dawn.
Someone hurled an object through the front window of Debra Washington’s apartment. It was a fire bomb. By the time firefighters doused the blaze, the apartment was gutted by flames, and the one beside it had become uninhabitable.
The war was on.
56
Escape
OUTSIDE PORTLAND, OREGON, JANUARY 2003
Kabell was snoring away. The sound was like music to Ann’s ears. She had also been expecting it, for she had managed to slip a drug into the orange juice and coffee delivered to Kabell’s suite. He was leaning back in a recliner, his bandaged face looking odd under the glow of the recessed ceiling lights.
Cindy drank the orange juice, and the girl was lying on her side atop the sofa.
Relief swept through Ann after she felt the Cindy’s wrist and detected a strong heartbeat. Ann had no medical training and had to guess about how much of the drug to give her victims.
If Kabell died it would be no great loss, but the goal was to protect Cindy and not to kill her, accidentally or otherwise.
Ann’s planned escape was delayed. Because of the attack on the gate, the supply run was pushed back and wouldn’t take place for another two days. However, the first stage of that was to occur in the morning, when the empty crates would be dropped off for pickup by the supply team connected with the plane.
Ann was going to be taken outside the Citadel in one of those empty crates, along with Cindy. There were procedures in place to make certain that no one broke into the Citadel, but none to prevent escape. Ann was confident that her plan would go off without a hitch.
To sneak Cindy out of the suite, Ann had disguised a laundry basket to resemble one of the carts used to bring food to the guests.
If anyone looked closely they would see the ruse, but with a tablecloth and dirty dishes piled on top of it, it passed a casual glance.
Cindy wasn’t heavy, but neither was Ann very strong. It took a bit of exertion for her to lift the girl up and place her in the cart. Once that was done, Ann put a thin board over the top of the cart, then covered it with a tablecloth that hung down on all sides. After the dishes were on the cart, Ann was ready to go.
Pangs of guilt and regret had nettled at her mind ever since the second attack on the complex. She kept thinking how horrible she would have felt had Jack been killed by one of the grenades. Despite her love for him, Ann knew the marriage was over.
She became aware of that as she’d kissed him the night of the attack and detected the scent of another woman upon him. He hadn’t been out for a walk. He’d been taking a romp in Irina Devoe’s bed.
Despite the sense of betrayal she’d felt, Jack’s infidelity hardly mattered to Ann. Siding with Abadandi had ensured that Ann would never trust Begley again, and she doubted Jack would leave the Citadel to come after her and try to save the marriage.
The Citadel, or rather, the idea behind the Citadel held a strange fascination for Jack. The former prison guard took odd satisfaction keeping scumbags safe, while making certain that no one broke in. His current position was the exact opposite of what he’d previously been doing at the prison. Instead of keeping criminals locked up and society safe, he was keeping criminals safe, so that they could be released among society.
Ambition was the main desire that drove Jack. With Abadandi nearing retirement age, Jack saw himself as a natural successor to the man. Ann had always believed the assumption was without merit, since no one other than Abadandi had contact with the Citadel’s mysterious owner, or owners.
The two men weren’t fond of each other, so why would Abadandi recommend Jack for anything? No, Ann thought it much more likely that an unknown third party would be chosen to replace Abadandi someday.
Then again, Abadandi might hold on for another twenty years. The man seemed as devoted to the Citadel as anyone. The way he was so tight with a dollar, you would have thought that he owned the Citadel.
That last thought stopped Ann in her tracks as she pushed the cart down the corridor toward the motor pool. What if Abadandi did own the Citadel? It would explain why he had such a free reign in running the facility.
Ann shrugged. It no longer mattered to her. She was getting out, and once she did, she would consider the Citadel a part of her past, along with her husband.
* * *
Cody gave Romeo the okay sign after watching Ann wheel the cart past the guards’ locker room. The two had picked the lock on the door and entered only moments before hearing Ann’s approach. While Cody kept an eye on the corridor through a small glass insert in the door, Romeo went through the lockers. They were after uniforms.
They would wear the uniforms when they went to kill Kabell, to put the man at ease. The uniforms would aid in their escape as well, as once they made it topside, they would look like the guards who might be hunting them. Ideally, both the murder and their absence would go unnoticed until they were long gone.
Having learned about the impending supply run scheduled, they decided to make their move then. Thanks to their own efforts and that of Flash and Gator, the number of Citadel guards had been reduced considerably. With all but three guards topside to make the supply run, there would never be a better chance to make the hit.
Even if Begley and his men learned that there was trouble, they would have to open the gates to get back inside to deal with it.
There again the uniforms would prove invaluable, as they could be used as role camouflage to put the remaining guards at ease.
That would be a worst-case scenario as far as Cody was concerned. He hoped to kill and disappear before anyone was the wiser.
“Pay dirt,” Romeo whispered to him. “One of the guys killed by Flash and Gator was about our size. I broke into his locker then closed it again. No one will miss the uniforms.”
Romeo undressed, then put on a uniform, before placing his own clothes back over it. Cody did the same while Romeo kept watch, then discovered a problem.
“We need to take the hats they wear too, but we can’t carry them.”
Romeo stuffed a hat inside his shirt, along his left side. The bulge was visible, but it was the best he could do. Cody did likewise, while placing his hat on the right. They left the locker room, then secured the door behind them.
They looked a bit odd while walking closely together with one arm tucked against their sides. However, the three people they passed in the corridor didn’t pay them any undue notice. Within minutes, they were back in their suite and hiding the uniforms beneath slits they’d made in the underside of their mattresses. When it came time for the guards to go on their supply run, Cody and Romeo would make the hit.
; * * *
The following morning, Begley was pleased that the detail sent out to drop off the empty crates encountered no trouble, but he was perplexed by his wife’s absence.
In normal times, Ann would have risen early to open the motor pool and assist the men as they left to take out the crates. Begley had to open up the motor pool himself, and assumed Ann was doing as little as possible, since she was working against her will.
When she failed to come out of the bedroom by nine o’clock, it struck Begley that she might be ill. Ann had always been an early riser and rarely slept past seven a.m.
After knocking and receiving no answer, Begley opened the bedroom door and found the room empty and the bed undisturbed.
That gave birth to the idea that Ann might have found a lover among the kitchen staff or maintenance crew, and worse yet, his own guards.
Had Ann spent the night with someone?
Begley had passed the previous night with Irina, perhaps Ann had found her own lover.
Jealousy blossomed in Begley’s breast at the thought of his wife in another man’s arms, although he knew he didn’t deserve her anymore. Over the next hour he looked for Ann and asked everyone he met if they’d seen her. No one had.
It was when he was wondering what to do next that he received the call from Serge.
“Meet me at Kabell’s suite.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Not over the radio, and hurry.”
* * *
The kitchen staff reported to a guard that Kabell had failed to place an order for breakfast and that he wasn’t answering calls. Serge checked things out himself and found the bandaged cult leader still snoring in the recliner where he had passed out.
Begley arrived to find a guard stationed outside the suite, then joined Serge inside, and looked down on Kabell.
“Someone drugged him, Jack. I got him to wake but he fell right back to sleep, and Jack, the girl is missing.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Begley said, as in a flash he put the whole thing together. “Topside, we have to get topside. I think Ann escaped and took the girl with her.”
* * *
Begley and Serge found one of the empty crates sitting open, while the jeep, which Ann had declared beyond repair, was gone.
There was a note taped to the inside of the crate. It was in Ann’s handwriting and addressed to Begley.
Its brevity shocked him, although in truth, the eight words relayed all that needed to be said.
Enjoy your mistresses, Jack, the Citadel, and Irina.
Their radios went off with a blast of static, then they heard Abadandi’s voice come over them.
“BEGLEY, GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE NOW!”
“I think the boss man knows what’s happened,” Serge said.
Begley fought back tears as he nodded, then went to find out what the repercussions would be. His wife had left him, and now it looked as if he might be relieved of his responsibilities. If he were kicked out of the Citadel, Begley felt he’d have nothing left to live for.
57
Shock And Awe
THE BRONX, OCTOBER 2018
At James’ apartment building, his friend Juan was staring at the charred door of James’ home. The door had been boarded over and a notice applied to it from the fire department declaring that an arson investigation was under way.
Juan was a dark-skinned Hispanic kid of eighteen who had a muscular build. He lived on the third floor of the same building as James and knew he was lucky to still have a place to live. Had the fire spread, he too might have been burned-out.
“You’re Juan, right?”
Juan turned to see two of the Boulevard Bloods looking at him. The one who had spoken, the bigger of the two, was named Randy. Juan had been a classmate of his until Randy dropped out of school in the seventh grade.
“Hey, Randy.”
“You remember me?”
“Yeah, man, we used to shoot hoops together down at the park.”
“That shit seems like a long time ago,” Randy said, although it had only been seven years.
The other Blood spoke to Juan in a voice that was just above a whisper. Juan wondered if the scar tissue across the left side of his throat had anything to do with that.
“We hear you and James Washington is tight. Do you know where he is?”
Juan swallowed hard as he shook his head. “I don’t know where James and his mom went to, and he’s not answering his phone.”
“Somebody said that some white people was here the other day,” Randy said. “White people who weren’t cops. Do you know about them?”
Juan did. He had met Tanner the same time that James did, and James had told him that Sara had set him up with a good job at a law firm. He had also just spoken to them both days earlier, but the gang members didn’t know any of that.
“I… no, I don’t know who they were.”
The two gangbangers looked at each other, then back at Juan. Randy gave Juan a back-handed slap across the face that made his lip bleed.
“Why’d you lie to us like that, Juan? Do you want us to go upstairs and spend some time with your little sisters?”
Juan’s sisters were fifteen and twelve. He looked into Randy’s eyes and saw nothing of the boy he used to play basketball with. This Randy would rape his little sisters, or even kill them.
“Tanner, the guy’s name is Tanner and his girlfriend is named Sara Blake. She got James a job with her father.”
The bangers shared a look again, then the other one spoke in that whispery voice.
“You said the man’s name was Tanner? What’s he look like?”
“He’s a white guy, a little taller than me, in shape, and oh yeah, he’s got some serious-looking eyes. You know, like he’s staring right through you.”
“And the bitch’s name is Sara Blake?” Randy said.
“Yeah, but that’s all I know. I don’t know where to find them.”
Randy gave Juan a playful slap on the cheek. It still made Juan cry out in shock.
“You did good, Juan. Too bad. Your little sisters are cute.”
The other thug laughed in a whisper. After they’d left, Juan wondered if he had just gotten James killed.
* * *
Inside a take-out joint called Finger-lickin’ Ribs, the head of every customer turned to take in the white man wearing the ski mask. When the sawed-off shotgun he was carrying registered with them as well, they all hurried from the store.
Behind the counter, the employees cursed and crouched out of sight. However, two members of the Boulevard Bloods were behind the counter with them. They had been talking while drinking coffee. The cups fell to the floor as the hoods reached for weapons.
Tanner blasted the hoods with two rounds from the shotgun, sending the men to the floor as well. Like the cups they had dropped, fluid was leaking from them.
A rear door in the shop exploded open and a man with a shotgun emerged. Tanner shot him in the knees, exposing the bone. Past the door where the man had emerged was a staircase. Down those steps were twelve more men with guns.
The basement of Finger-Lickin’ Ribs was the Boulevard Bloods main money drop and a small fortune was counted and banded down there every day.
Tanner tossed two stun grenades past the body of the screaming man on the floor then reloaded as he waited for the grenades to do their work. The concussive blasts shook the floor and caused a stack of paper plates to slide off a counter.
After shooting the man with the wounded knees in the head, Tanner started down the stairs and heard moans and shouts from the disoriented guards. One of the men, who had been the farthest from the blasts still had the presence of mind to reach for a fallen gun. He was on his knees and wore the gang colors of purple and black. Tanner kicked him in the face as he passed him, and the man went down.
A gray duffel bag hung from its strap across Tanner’s back. He filled it with some of the cash that was stacked high on a table. There was so much money that he
could have filled four bags.
Some of the bangers were getting their bearings but Tanner shot them before they could be a threat. On his way back up the metal stairs he tossed an object behind him. There was a timer attached.
Across the street, on the second floor of an apartment building, two men lay dead from knife wounds. Leaning beside the window was a sniper rifle with a scope attached. They were to be the last line of defense in case the money drop was ever robbed. That “last line” had been erased first by Tanner.
Tanner was getting on the motorcycle he’d arrived on when the timer counted down. The sound of a muffled explosion reached his ears beneath the helmet he’d put on.
It was a pipe bomb he had tossed, much like the one Maurice Biggs had ordered his people to use on James’ apartment. It killed the nine men still alive and incinerated the remaining money. The war continued.
58
Unintended Consequences
OUTSIDE PORTLAND, OREGON, JANUARY 2003
To say that Kabell was incensed over Ann’s abduction of Cindy was an understatement. Only the skin around his eyes and mouth were visible because of the bandages he wore. They were a crimson hue, while spittle punctuated many of the invectives and insults he hurled concerning the Citadel staff’s incompetence.
It had taken more than an hour of issuing assurances to the man by Abadandi to calm him down. Abadandi had promised Kabell that Cindy would be found and returned. He’d given Begley the task of locating her.
* * *
Abadandi spoke with Begley in the presence of Dr. Calavechi, inside Abadandi’s office.
Young Guns Box Set Page 27