The Game Never Ends

by Zaire Crown

  “And for the record, you never ghosted me. Do you really think we are so incompetent that we would put you in the wrong holding cell?” She glanced at Silence. “Or forget to properly lock your handcuffs?”

  That raised Tuesday’s eyebrows.

  “Now you’re starting to see that you’re not lucky, Ms. Knight. You’re protected.” Ms. Jackson twisted the strange triangle-shaped ring Tuesday noticed in the interrogation room.

  She asked, “Protected by you?”

  Jackson looked to the jet. “Would you mind if we finished our conversation inside? Chemo did a number on my bones, can’t stand for longer than a minute before my knees start aching.”

  Tuesday and Silence led her up the boarding stairs. The G-65O was the largest and most-equipped in the Gulfstream series. It was not like the smaller business class jets that only sat eight and didn’t permit passengers to stand up straight. The interior was spacious with a ceiling high enough that even the six foot, five inch Silence didn’t have to stoop. To the left was an empty cockpit and to the right comfortable seating for fifteen, beyond that a small galley where a single stewardess could serve precooked meals, and at the rear, a small suite with a half bath.

  Over the years, Tuesday had flown on the corporate jet many times and was accustomed to the plush leather seats; the 24-karat gold trimming, handles and fittings; the polished Brazilian Cherry-wood tables and inlays.

  What made Tuesday’s mouth drop to the floor was the dark-skinned gentleman staring at her from the third row of seats.

  Marcus.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Ms. Jackson dropped herself hard into one of the port-facing bench seats. She sucked air between her teeth while rubbing her left knee. The pain appeared to be genuine and not purely for aiding in Marcus’s dramatic reveal.

  Over a dark suit with a black button-up and tie, Marcus wore a black full-length cashmere coat with a mink collar. The same animal had been slain for the hat.

  His beard had grown in full; he obviously hadn’t shaved since the day he left. It worked well with the fur, a bossed-up manliness Tuesday was feeling.

  She spent two minutes stuck in the same position from when she first saw him. Tears moistened her eyes but didn’t fall. She stared at him with some blending of rage and relief.

  She hissed, “You sonofabitch.”

  Marcus said, “I can explain everything.”

  She repeated, “You sonofabitch.”

  Marcus stood to greet Silence and initiated a quick series of hand gestures that caused the quiet killer to respond in kind. Tuesday watched their exchange in disbelief. The fact that her husband was fluent in sign language was just another in his long list of secrets.

  Their nonverbal conversation went on for a while before Tuesday couldn’t resist butting in. “What y’all saying?”

  “Nothing much. Just a mutual appreciation for each other’s work.” Marcus shook his hand then directed Silence to a seat before taking his.

  Tuesday shook her head. “On some level I just knew it.”

  He turned to her. “Before Rene died we had a long talk about Rico and the past and everything that happened with me and the Rodriguez family. But the real conversation was when we talked about the future.

  “After the funeral, Reina made her play but used men who were loyal to her father, men who knew the old man had already pledged me. So she thought they put a bullet in my head and took to me to a hog farm when really these kindly gentlemen took me to the airport to board an international flight. Even treated me to McDonald’s on the way.”

  Tuesday flopped into a seat. “So while you were busy laying low—hiding on some island or in some cave, you left me here to deal with all this shit by my muthafuckin’ self, again!”

  “Not an island this time—Cairo. After Egypt then Russia.”

  Tuesday peeped his swag was like a Siberian mobster.

  “I was so proud of how you handled yourself. Even after you lost everything, was all the way down, you bounced back and took care of business. Protected the company and family.”

  “Be careful not to press a desperate foe,” she quoted.

  He smiled. “That’s my girl.”

  “And it just so happened that the guy in the next cell had a copy.”

  “I figured you could use it,” said Jackson. “I also figured you could use a little time to think. I cleaned up for you but it was important that you solved your own problems.”

  Marcus leaned back in his seat, scratched at his new beard. “You know how important it is to me that Abel stays legitimate. I wasn’t happy ’bout you putting us in that position with the Colombians.” After a pause he added, “But I understood.”

  It didn’t surprise Tuesday that he somehow knew about the deal she made with Vega. “I owe her eight shipments of illegals from Central and South America. Supposed to be hard working immigrants who just want an opportunity to do better in the United States. No criminals, no drugs, no guns.

  “If you want I can shut it down. I plan on taking a look at her as soon as we’re done anyway.”

  Marcus contemplated that for a second then shook his head. “Honor your word, but make sure she understands there will be penalties for trying anything slick. If we should find somebody carrying a duffel bag of AK’s or a mother with heroin stuffed in her baby’s diaper—” He didn’t need to finish the threat.

  Tuesday nodded solemnly. “I’ll make sure she sticks to the agreement.”

  Tuesday didn’t see how she first missed the massive ring on his right hand. It was similar to Ms. Jackson’s, only larger, more detailed. What she thought was a simple triangle was actually a pyramid with tiny hieroglyphs on the face. It was gold and set with dark stones that Tuesday’s trained eye knew were not onyx but genuine black diamonds.

  Jewelry like that was typically too gaudy for her low-key husband’s tastes. Tuesday knew it was a symbol, something worn because it meant something, and not because it looked good.

  “What are you involved in?”

  “Something bigger than both of us.”

  “Are you saying you’re back in the game?”

  “A bigger game with higher stakes.”

  Tuesday recalled her conversation with Reina and was able to put things together. “Rene gave you his seat at The Table.”

  He explained: “Rene Rodriguez was a Brother in Good Standing but his seat was at a much smaller table. Brandon was, and a few others still are, lobbying for that seat. I had been a Brother for years, just not always in good standing.”

  Tuesday thought back on the rings she found cleaning up the closet. The connection had eluded her.

  “Rene nominated me for the seat he would’ve been promoted to if his health hadn’t been bad. A seat at the Big Table.”

  Tuesday looked lost.

  Ms. Jackson helped her. “Each new level requires another initiation. The process takes eight weeks, and during that time there’s no contact with the outside world. That’s why he couldn’t call, couldn’t be there, but he made sure I was.

  “Now your husband sits where esteemed Masters have sat before him. W. E. B. Dubois, Carter G. Woods, Madam C. J. Walker.”

  Marcus checked her with a look. It told Tuesday that the woman had said too much. More than the sizes of their rings, it also told her that whatever they were in together, Marcus was clearly her superior.

  “Look, I don’t care where you been, or why you been gone. I don’t even care how we’ll explain it to the girls. I just want you back. I just wanna sit on the couch and tuck my cold feet under you. I just want everything back like it was.”

  He lowered his gaze. “The responsibilities I have don’t allow me to be Marcus King anymore. They don’t allow me to be your husband.”

  Tuesday looked to Silence and Ms. Jackson as if she needed witnesses to confirm what she was hearing.

  “When are you coming home?”

  He delivered the bad news with his eyes.

  Tuesday’s jaw tightened
, anger made her hands shake. “That’s why you didn’t want the girls to see you. Yo’ ass too much of a coward to say goodbye to their faces.

  “I’m not doing your dirt for you this time. I’m not protecting your memory. I’m gonna let them know you abandoned this family so you can fly around the world and play toy mafia.”

  “Toy mafia?” Jackson said indignantly. “The Great House of Kamku has been directing the path—”

  Marcus again silenced her with a look. “Let me speak to my wife in private.” His tone was more command than request.

  Silence got up immediately but Ms. Jackson’s arthritic knees took her a little longer to ease out of her seat. As soon as they left the plane, Marcus said: “I am a part of something huge, organized, and global. You think I would choose anything over you if it wasn’t extremely important? I am about to run all the legal and illegal business in three countries: Canada, Mexico, and the United States. I now overboss the entire North American continent.”

  Tuesday fell back against her seat.

  He flashed the ring again. “Not a toy mafia, not a few thug niggas who gang bang. I’m talking judges, politicians, captains of industry; this shit runs all the way to the top.”

  Tuesday finally caught on. “A secret society.”

  Marcus took the seat next to hers and leaned into her ear. “I’m in violation for even telling you this much. For centuries, small groups of extremely wealthy and powerful white men have worked to put their people in position. Pulling strings from behind the scenes.

  “About one hundred years ago some very smart black folks, a few you might even have heard of, decided that if we were gonna have a chance we needed the same thing. You think people like Thurgood Marshall, MLK, or Malcolm X have their impact without somebody behind them? What about organizations like the Nation of Islam, the NAACP, the Historical Black Colleges?”

  She cocked her head a bit. “This Kamku thing—you’re the black Illuminati.”

  He nodded. “Literally. Kam means black and Ku means light. And we’re stronger than ever right now. Think about the athletes, entertainers, and entrepreneurs; there are more black multimillionaires and billionaires than the world has ever seen—many are Brothers in Good Standing. We are making sure that, not just black, but all people of color get their fair share.

  “That’s why it’s so important that you take care of Abel. Our scholarship programs make sure young minorities get educated, get more doctors, lawyers and businessmen into the fold.”

  It was another one of those teachable moments where Marcus made Tuesday feel stupid without trying. During their marriage she had been concerned over frivolous stuff like losing the baby weight and quitting her job to open a clothing boutique. Meanwhile he had been viewing things from a broader perspective.

  He said, “Making you run the company, leaving you to fight these battles. Deep down you’ve always known I’ve been grooming you for something. The only reason I’m telling you all this is because one day there might be a seat for you at The Table.”

  Her eyes widened with excitement but he stopped her before she could ask a thousand questions. “It won’t be soon. Abel needs you, Tanisha needs you, and to be honest bae, you’re not ready. There will be more tests but you have to take these next steps on your own.”

  Tuesday took a second to absorb it all. “What you’re doing is big and so important for our people. But I still don’t get why you can’t do this with us. Why do you have to go away?”

  He took her hands into his. “It’s not because I want to. But there’s a reason why coaches stand on the sideline. I promise one day you’ll understand.”

  They met in a kiss. It was slow and sensual, not charged with their usual sexual energy—a display of their love and not their lust.

  He rested his forehead against hers, and for a moment they just stayed like that, holding each other, eyes closed. When he pulled back, Tuesday didn’t like his expression. He had the look of someone bothered by an ulcer.

  “What is it?” Tuesday knew her husband well enough to see he still hadn’t delivered the worst of the news.

  He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I’m taking Danielle with me.”

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  “No! No! You are not taking Dani.”

  Marcus looked as if he expected this response. “The most important thing we do is find young talented people and put them on a path that will do the most good. We’ve already discussed this at the Big Table.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what y’all talked about. Ain’t nobody talked to me. And my daughter ain’t goin’ no fuckin’ where.”

  “Tuesday, you’re rich, but even you don’t have access to the resources I have now. Dani is too gifted to wind up stuck with three kids, married to a mechanic and teaching high school algebra. I need her with me.”

  She became defensive. “You act like I’m a bad mother.”

  He frowned at her. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. With you, Dani will grow up to be a fine, well-adjusted member of society. The problem is that we need her to be more.”

  Tuesday folded her arms across her chest. “And what does the Big Table need her to be?”

  Marcus took a breath then began: “Dani is going to travel the world with me, being exposed to different cultures—with the aid of a series of highly-skilled tutors, she’s going to be fluent in six languages by the time she is thirteen. By fifteen she will get accepted into Harvard, where her math skills are going to help her pursue degrees in business, particularly high finance, with a minor in Political Science. By eighteen she’ll have her MBA, by twenty a Ph.D. in Business.

  “Shortly after that, she’ll begin interning at Goldman Sachs or J.P. Morgan, one of the large banking institutions. She will pay her dues, make her way and rise up through the ranks. Soon she’ll be their most successful broker and by twenty-nine, will be the youngest junior partner in their firm’s history.

  “She’ll start her own investment company by thirty-five where she’s going to make a lot of money for herself and other important people. Her uncanny ability to spot trends and forecast the market will make her one of the most influential people on Wall Street. For fifteen years, her company will enjoy ridiculously high profits, growing her bank account, but more importantly, growing her reputation.

  “But sometime during her late forties she will feel the urge for public service and gravitate towards politics. A senate seat will become available in New York, and with the support of all those people she made rich in the private sector, she’ll win it by a narrow margin.

  “She’ll spend the next six or seven years gaining momentum within the Democratic Party, and when the next election cycle happens, they’re going to be begging for her to run. By that time, the country will be in a deep recession. People will be struggling so bad that they’re going to want somebody who can fix the economy, a smart businessman—woman in this case—with a proven track record. She’ll get nominated and humbly accept.

  “She’s going to steamroll her way through the primary but the general election will be much tighter. She will get clobbered at first just to make it look good. Her opponent will be ahead in the polls by eight or nine points in early July, but a scandal involving his campaign funding will allow Dani to rally late.”

  The whole time he spoke, Tuesday just listened with her mouth hanging open. “You’re saying Dani’s gonna be the president one day? Fifty years from now and y’all already worked it out.”

  “It’s not just going to be handed to her,” he said. “You know me, I’ll make sure there are tests but things will always seem to fall in her favor. To the public it will sometimes look like brilliance, sometimes dumb luck.”

  “But it will be the Kamku behind her pulling all the strings.” Tuesday shook her head. “That makes her a puppet.”

  “She’s going to do a lot for our people, out front and behind the scenes—a lot for the country. Our baby girl is going to be revered like Lincoln. They’r
e going to build statues of her.” He smiled at the thought. “If they still have cash by then, Dani’s face will be on their money.”

  “You’ve planned her life down to the smallest detail but what if Dani has her own plan? What if she wants to be a school teacher, wants to fall in love and have those three kids?”

  “Tuesday, this has already been voted on at the Big Table.”

  She countered, “But Dani didn’t get a vote, did she? Marcus what y’all doing sounds like some James-Bond-mad-scientist shit. This is our daughter, dude. You raise your kids and enjoy watching them turn into the people they’re gonna be. I’m not with all this programming and planning.”

  “Leaders are not born, they’re made!” he snapped with frustration. “Two brothers may be born of royal blood, but the one who will get the throne is taught from Day One to walk, talk and act like a King. Dani’s training must begin now.”

  Tuesday measured him with a curious glare. This bearded man in the black suit and gold ring was wearing her husband’s face but like a stranger to her. “I don’t know what they did in that initiation but it’s almost like they brainwashed you. Please baby, don’t do this. Let them muthafuckas run the world. Just help me raise both our daughters.”

  “It’s going to be a hard adjustment for all of us but we can’t be selfish. We have to make a sacrifice for our people.”

  “No. I won’t let you take her.” It was the first time she openly defied her husband and it took all her strength.

  His face mirrored the pain he saw in his wife. “You know I’m not doing this to hurt you right?”

  The tears she fought back earlier broke free, raced down her cheeks. “I’ll fight you on this if I have to, Marcus. I’ll do what I gotta do for my daughter.”

  He rubbed her leg. “I know you will, but you’ll lose. There’s not a cop, lawyer, or judge from California to Florida that I can’t put a battery pack in. This isn’t some normal custody dispute that’s going to play out in family court. I was too powerful for that before, but now I’m practically a god. Don’t try to fight the Kamku, Tuesday—you’re in a canoe throwing rocks at a battleship.”