Black 01 - Black Rain (8 page)

Dread enters the bathroom. He has on a black leather shirt-and-pants outfit with red snakeskin boots and belt.

His eyes become slits as he canvasses the room suspi-74

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ciously. Chase tries to put on the best mean and tough face that she can muster.

“You see what Brutus did to my face? I feel like shit and I need to take a shower. Do you mind?”

Dread walks up behind her and wraps his arms around her body as he pins her to the vanity. His penis bulges against her behind. They stare at each other in the reflection in the mirror.

“Yes, I mind! I didn’t mean for you to get hurt, but you made my boys look bad, no? Oh, you excited me da way you handled yourself. I just want to make sure that you’re okay, and I ask for your forgiveness, dear.

Can’t we make passionate love and make up?” Dread presses harder and harder against her, his breathing growing heavier.

He places his hands on her buttocks and starts to grind. As his intensity gets faster, Chase pushes back, turns to face him and slaps his face. “I will not be treated like a twenty-dollar whore, Dread. My body is sore all over, I’m dirty and not in the mood to be mauled or man-handled!”

Dread throws his hands up in a surrendering motion while giving her an amused smile. “Please excuse me.

You’re right. I am beside myself. I will leave you to get dressed. We have another meeting in three hours. That should give you time to freshen up and get dressed.”

Dread adjusts his penis in his pants and gathers himself.

He slicks back his jet-black hair, wipes the sweat from his brow, adjusts his clothes and takes a deep breath.

He blows her a kiss as he pulls the bathroom door shut. Chase puts her ear to the wooden door just long enough to hear the bedroom door close. She goes into
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the bedroom to make sure he has exited. The room is vacant. She can still hear the men laughing and talking in the other room.

She falls upon the bed and breathes a sigh of relief as she retrieves her cell phone from her underwear and tries to call Agent James back. His line is busy. She tries two more times and returns the cell phone to her purse, frowning. He should have been expecting her to call back. She tries to convince herself that he’s contacting Joe and letting him know she’s at some hotel in Iowa.

Two hours later she finds herself in the back of the black sport utility vehicle with Dread sitting next to her. They are to meet with one of Dread’s supporters.

Dread usually doesn’t get involved in the collection of money that is owed, but in this case, he explained that Iowa police officer Charles O’Brian has been skim-ming the profits in the amount of forty thousand dollars in the last two months. Dread wants to make an example of this guy.

An example for Dread always ends up with someone being killed. He is serious about his money and loyalty.

Chase hasn’t met this O’Brian guy, but he has to be a fool to steal from Dread. If she’d known how sinister this guy was before she took the case, she wouldn’t have gotten into it. She hates being in these situations where Dread is handling his business; they’re more like executions than examples.

She stares out the SUV’s window into the starlit, country night and wonders about her fate. She opens the window a bit and breathes in deeply of the cool, sweet, country night air and almost forgets the danger. She
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says a silent prayer that she will come out of this assignment alive.

They pull into Moville, Iowa, a small and rustic town.

It looks like Mayberry—the town in the old Andy Grif-fith TV show. A big oak tree grows in the middle of the town square as they pass the jailhouse. All the homes have white picket fences.

Is Otis in his cell, drunk, with his cow grazing behind the jailhouse? Are Barney and Andy inside drinking coffee and explaining life lessons to Opey and Goober? They quickly pass through the tiny town and pull off on to a road that leads to a sprawling field. Chase spots the Sioux City, Iowa, police vehicle as they pull up beside of it.

“Chase, you stay here. I’ll be right back.” Dread kisses her on the cheek, and before she can answer, he gets out of the car with Brutus, Weasel and Ronnell.

Officer O’Brian gets out of his police cruiser with his palms exposed as he greets Dread. O’Brian is on the overweight side with a carrot top and freckles that cover his broad face. He looks like he could have played football at one time, but gave up his dream and settled for fried Hostess Twinkies, two at a time. The buttons on his one-size-too-small shirt cling to their threads as his huge belly protrudes, and you can see his protective vest in the gaps between the buttons.

He stands about five feet, ten inches, with a childish face and stubby fingers. Dread looks disgustedly at him.

Chase lets her window down so she can hear the conversation. The night air has dropped at least twenty degrees, and puffs of vapor appear from their mouths as the men speak.

She fidgets. It would be foolish for O’Brian to come
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out to this deserted place alone. She surveys the area.

Something moves just beyond the clearing. The high three-quarter moon illuminates the surroundings.

The tall prairie grass, about three to four feet high, dances in the night wind. She pulls out the Smith and Wesson .44 magnum pistol that Dread keeps in a secret compartment behind the backseat armrest and grabs two bullet clips. Checking the clip in the gun to make sure it is full, she slaps it into the handle and then pulls the slide back, loading a bullet into the chamber.

Chase reaches up and turns off the dome light, then pushes the car door ajar, just in case something goes down. She tunes back in on the conversation between Dread and O’Brian, but remains on high alert, survey-ing the landscape for any intruders.

Dread is smiling while grabbing the back of his neck.

Always a bad sign. He only does this when stressed.

“So, O’Brian, I haven’t taken good care of you for handling my Iowa accounts?”

“Yes, Dread, you have. Very well. I have your money right here.”

O’Brian opens his uniform shirt, which reveals his bulletproof vest. He pulls three stacks of cash from underneath it and hands it to Dread. Dread looks at Adam, another Nebraska police officer, who handles the books for his organization. Adam, a white guy with blond hair and a medium muscular build who looks a little like Ben Affleck, takes the money, fingers through it quickly and shakes his head. Then he steps back with the other three men, Clark, Christopher and Damon, who have all traveled together in the silver SUV that is parked off to the side.

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Dread claps his hands and laughs. “It is getting cold out here, is it not?”

“It’s been colder,” O’Brian answers as he buttons his shirt. His hands are shaking.

“Yes, colder. Cold can be an anomaly. Like when life is escaping your body, they say you feel cold all over.”

Dread looks O’Brian in the eyes. “Have you heard that?”

“No, I’m not much interested in dying or what happens to dead people,” O’Brian replies as he looks around at Dread’s men, who have formed a wide circle encompassing him. O’Brian’s eyes dart between the men as if he’s looking for an escape route. His eyes bulge with fear.

“No? Well, it seems you would be after thinking that you could steal from me, you fucking maggot.”

Dread snaps.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve always paid you on time,” O’Brian responds, taking a step backward.

Dread takes a step forward.

“No, my friend. To our calculations, you are about…how much, Adam?” Dread looks over at his accountant.

“Fifty thousand to this point!” Adam answers.

“Fifty-thousand behind,” Dread echoes as he turns back to the Sioux City, Iowa, policeman.

O’Brian points up at the moon. “Well, I guess all good things come to an end, and it looks like a good night for dying,” he says with a smirk.

This time Chase knows she hears something moving through the tall grass. She ducks down in the seat as several men pass the vehicle and surround Dread and his
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men with their rifles and shotguns drawn before Dread’s guys reach for their weapons.

Chase weighs her options. Drive off and leave Dread and his men at the fate of the redneck countrymen? But, if Dread were to make it out of the situation alive… She also thinks of the good old boys shooting out her tires, and can only imagine what they would do to her before killing her. She plays the odds and decides to stick around and help out Dread and his men.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?” O’Brian says. “You think I’m some kind of fool? Why should I let some fucking Cuban make all the money? I see it like this: I run this territory and get twenty percent off the top, or I get it all. There’s no negotiation, so you can just jump your Cuban ass back in your SUV and get your punk asses out of my town. I’ll mail you your money from here on out. You got a problem with that, Cubie?” O’Brian asks with his gun pointed at Dread’s scrotum.

Dread smirks as out of the corner of his eye, he sees Chase sneaking up on one of O’Brian’s men, gun aimed at his head. “Actually, yes. I do have a serious problem with dat.”

She pushes the magnum against the skull of the shotgun-toting hick. “Drop your weapons now or I’ll blow his brains out!” She orders.

Dread disarms O’Brian, to his amazement, and holds the gun to O’Brian’s scrotum. The other six men quickly drop their weapons and raise their hands as Dread’s men huddle them together.

Dread motions her over to him. “You never cease to amaze me. I’m sorry I doubted your loyalty.” He kisses her on the cheek and turns back to O’Brian. “See, it takes
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a woman to show you how to act, and she will be rewarded handsomely. Adam, how much we got there in cash?”

Adam quickly calculates the money he has already put in a black duffel bag. “About sixty-five thousand, boss.”

Dread orders, “Give it to Chase.” He turns to the aston-ished Chase and says, “That’s for you, baby, and I hope it makes up for the pain you had to endure for my mistrust.”

“It more than makes up for it, Dread. Thanks!” She replies as Adam hands Chase the dusty duffel bag.

Dread smiles and winks at Chase. “Okay, baby, can you go wait in the car for us? I think it’s about to get ugly around here.”

“Sure, baby,” she answers, feeling torn about the carnage that is sure to follow. She feels helpless and knows the incident has spiraled beyond her control. She throws the dirty black money bag in the SUV, but doesn’t get in. Her curiosity about what Dread will do to the betray-ers has gotten the best of her, and she will have to give an eyewitness account in detail of the deeds done, if the case ever gets to trial.

The rednecks’ raunchy body odor and perspiration from their fear fills the air. A gunshot sounds. O’Brian grabs between his legs, screaming as he falls to his knees, his khaki police pants darkening with blood and country dirt.

“You like to point guns at people’s balls. Then enjoy the feeling?” Dread mocks, laughing. “Pick his punk ass up and throw him in his car and get the petro,”

Dread orders.

Christopher and Adam grab the whimpering O’Brian and place him in his vehicle.

An officer Chase knows as Clark Malone goes to the
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back of the SUV, grabs the gas can and rushes to stand next to the driver’s side of O’Brian’s squad car. Smiling, he opens the can and places the spout upright, so the gasoline can be poured out.

The other men now kneeling on the ground join in the whimpering and start to plead with Dread for mercy.

One urinates on himself as he shakes with fear, and tears stream down his face.

“Mercy, you say? How much mercy would you have on me and my men, you piece of garbage?” Dread spits at the three-hundred-and-fifty-pound, cow-faced man.

“What we gonna have here is a little barbecue. Then I’m gonna give you boys a fair shake, okay?” Dread explains with an honest smile.

O’Brian’s face is contorted as he looks over at Dread in obvious pain. “Dread, I got your money. Look in the bag in the trunk.”

O’Brian pops the trunk from the inside as Christopher pushes his gun into O’Brian’s temple.

Brutus starts toward the trunk to retrieve the money.

“No, Brutus, you stay there and cover those assholes.

Clark, get the money.”

Clark takes a flashlight out of his jacket and walks toward the trunk. He retrieves a duffel bag, lays it on the ground, opens it then screams. A five-foot rattlesnake darts out and strikes him in the face. He quickly falls backward, rolls on the ground and struggles with the huge snake that coils its body and refuses to let go of its bite.

Brutus pulls his switchblade, grabs the head of the huge snake and cuts the body from it. He carefully pulls the head from Clark Malone’s face. But Clark has already gone into shock and convulsions from the snake’s poison.

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Brutus shoots Clark in the head to take him out of his misery, then goes over and kicks the duffel bag, dumping out multiple large bundles of hundred-dollar bills.

Dread clenches his fist, spits at the ground and kicks the car door several times in a rage. He looks at Clark’s body and then at O’Brian, who wears a smirk.

“It should have been you, you Cuban bastard!”

O’Brian yells.

Dread slowly goes over and punches O’Brian in the face repeatedly, then grabs the gas can from the ground and pours it all over O’Brian and the inside of the vehicle. O’Brian tries to yank the can from Dread, but gets a quick elbow to the face each time he tries.

O’Brian pleads, “Please don’t do this. You got the money. For heaven’s sake, just shoot me!”

Dread lights a match and flicks it into the police car.

Fire engulfs the vehicle. The metallic smell of gasoline fills the night air along with the screams of O’Brian.