Black Gangster (20 page)

She stared at him with fear. Before she could answer, the door opened and two more black men came in, pushing their women in front of them. One of the women was holding a hankie to her bleeding nose.

"We ain't got time for games, bitch!" Chinaman yelled at the woman. She trembled at the sound of his voice, and managed to point towards the rear of the store.

"What about a key? Do we need a key to get out?" Chinaman asked. Before the woman could answer, one of the men snatched her arm and pushed her towards the rear. When they reached the back door, one of the men rushed past her and opened the lock himself.

The door opened onto the alley. As the small group stepped out, a police car rushed past. The group broke and ran up the next nearest alley. The only thing they could think about was escape. Behind them the street was filled with struggling figures. Black men tried to build a protecting wall around their women as they fought their way down the street. Time and time again police broke through the wall of men who fought courageously with fists and feet against pistols and billy clubs.

Fatdaddy and his group finished loading up the guns in the panel truck. When he returned for his last trip into the gun shop, he examined the ropes that the owner was tied with. He loosened them slightly so the man wouldn't have much difficulty getting free. His wife's bonds were still tight, but Fatdaddy ignored them, surrendering to his greed and tapping the cash register on the way out of the store.

Before the small truck had gotten out of the neighborhood, the proprietor of the gun shop had gotten loose and made a hurried call to the police station before even bothering to untie his wife.

The desk sergeant took the call and immediately went into action. Since all of his cars were at the riot, he had to make an emergency call for cars to take care of the robbery. His call was answered immediately by four cars that were needed in the riot.

When Preacher and his men reached the bank two miles from the gun shop, there wasn't a police car within a mile of the bank. They entered it quickly. Before the people inside knew what was happening, they were covered by the men with the guns. The bank guard had been caught completely off guard. Hawk removed his gun and ordered him to stand still.

Donald and Ronald moved behind the cage windows and took all the cash from the cash drawers. Preacher pushed the bank manager towards the halfopened vault. In less than three minutes he was back carrying an army duffel bag half full of money. Hawk climbed on top of a counter and ripped out the movie camera that had been working all the while they were in the bank. Each man wore a pair of thin gloves and dark sunglasses. Preacher caught the camera as Hawk tossed it down, stuffed it inside the bag on top of the money without ever taking his eyes off the customers. With the help of Donald, Preacher made the customers lie down beside the cashiers. The guard was clubbed to his knees by Hawk as the men prepared to leave. Ronald had already left for the car when the rest of the men followed, walking quickly from the bank, not running, afraid they might draw attention if anyone should see them. Eddie was sitting under the wheel when they reached the car.

The men jumped in, Preacher taking the front seat beside the driver. He took off the wig he had been wearing and kicked off the women's shoes as the car leaped away from the curb.

"Take it easy," he cautioned Eddie. "We got everything going in our favor, so just be cool. It couldn't have been no sweeter if Prince had been in charge," he gloated happily.

The other men began to relax now that the ordeal was over. The tension was beginning to disappear. Ronald and Donald began to wipe the makeup off their faces, while Hawk came out of his wig and beard. Ronald took another wipe at his face with the wet rag Eddie had given him.

"Am I got most of this shit off?" he asked loudly.

"Don't worry about it," Preacher said. "In another block we're going to start changing cars, so you'll have plenty of time to take all your war paint off."

"Man, oh man," Eddie exclaimed excitedly. "Is all that cash really unmarked?"

"We ain't got nothing but the smaller bills. All that big shit we would have had trouble gettin' rid of we left alone," Preacher answered.

"Ronald," he added a moment later, "that Buick up there, that's the first car you guys change in." He glanced over his shoulder. "Hawk, you stay with me. The rest of you take that piece and head for the hideout. We'll be there in a few minutes, as soon as we reach the other car."

THE OFFICE OF CAPTAIN Mahoney was a scene of bedlam. The detectives were in an uproar. Reports on what had happened that afternoon were still coming in.

"Damn it, Morales," Lieutenant Gazier swore. "If we release that punk, this whole city will blow up in our faces."

Lieutenant Morales ignored his partner and spoke to the other two men in the office. "Gentlemen, I have to disagree with you. I believe that the killing of that homosexual last week is definitely tied up with the other killings that have plagued the city lately."

"Lieutenant Morales," one of the Federal men began. "You have misunderstood us. We will definitely give you all the cooperation we possibly can, but under the circumstances, my partner and I will have to concentrate on the apprehension of the men who held up that bank today." He glanced at his partner, then continued. "I for one can't see offhand how this would tie in with the rest of your problems. It's possible, true, but I just don't believe that any young group in the city would, or could, control what happened out there today."

Captain Mahoney stood up behind his desk, a piece of paper in his hand. "I don't know, Morales, if you are correct or not, but from my report, Roman was followed to the airport this morning, where he and his woman boarded a plane for Chicago." He held up his hand so he wouldn't be interrupted. "The same man that followed him out there followed Prince and his woman back to the city. Now, in regards to Prince, he was downstairs all afternoon working on the release of Larry with his lawyer. So whatever happened this afternoon, he had an airtight alibi. Since Roman was probably still in Chicago, he has an airtight alibi, too. Now, as far as I'm concerned, that's the two big men in this gang, and it's just a little beyond my imagination to believe they wouldn't be needed on an operation like the one that went off today."

Morales tilted his chair back. "Well, there is one thing you can't ignore. That's facts. Just plain, ordinary facts. First, what most of you fail to realize is that the organization that caused that riot is the brainchild of no other than our boy, Prince. Now, the rest of this crap that happened, you can take from there. The gun shop was hit at just the right time. When the only available police cars in the vicinity answered the call, the bank was hit."

He stared around at the listening officers. "Timing, not luck, gentlemen. We didn't have a car within eight blocks of that place during the holdup. Now, do you really want me to believe that what happened was just luck?"

The taller of the two Federal men cleared his throat. "You have a good point there, Lieutenant. Of course we will work as closely as possible with you on this, but our main concern is the bank robbery Did you have any definite plan of action?"

"Yes," Morales answered. "I have a plan, but it will take a little while to put it to work. As you know, we were holding that kid, Little Larry, on second degree, but they put so much pressure on us from upstairs that we had to release him this afternoon."

Lieutenant Gazier swore. "How the hell do they expect us to break these killings up if they turn loose every punk we pick up? What the hell goes on around here anyway, Morales? Everybody knows about that punk being released but me. Am I working on the case or what?"

"I was planning on telling you," Morales assured him, "but Mr. York and his partner came in before I had a chance to bring you up to date. Mr. York," Morales went on, "if you and Mr. Fulmer will bear with me for a few days, I think I'll have something definite to go on. I've sent off pictures to Chicago of Roman, so they'll be watching for him when he leaves. I have a hunch he's over there trying to make a buy on some heroin. I didn't have any mug shots of his woman, but we sent along a fairly good description."

The phone rang. Captain Mahoney picked it up and listened quietly. "Before you guys ruin my day," he said after hanging up, "have a cigar." He smiled at Morales. "She has had a five-pound boy. A little too soon, of course, but the doctor says, for a premature baby, he's damn healthy."

"That's just great, Pat," Morales replied, then added for the sake of the other men, "That's his daughterin-law. Don't you guys go getting the wrong impression about this old buzzard. He's too damn old to get one up, let alone get a baby." The officers grinned.

The captain cut off their congratulations. "Now, let's hear about this plan you boys were talking about."

Morales glanced around the room. "First of all," he began slowly, "we must acknowledge the fact that we are dealing with young men who possess the cunning of professional criminals and the morals of alley cats."

"Morales," Gazier remarked acidly, "what we need is some common facts. That's all, simple facts."

Captain Mahoney spoke sharply. "Gazier, you keep your big mouth shut or get the hell out of this office." He stared the younger officer down, then said politely, "Please continue, Lieutenant."

Ignoring the interruption, Morales nodded towards the captain. "Gentlemen, we are not just dealing with a gang of young hoodlums. This group of individuals is highly organized and the core of their unity is murder. Now, what we must try and understand is their motivation for wholesale murder. They are not committing murder just for the joy of it."

He stopped and waited until his words had sunk in. "This trouble has gone far beyond what the average delinquency would be. This trouble that we have today is our problem. I don't want to preach, but we must face the truth. We must do something about the slums. There is no doubt in my mind, gentlemen, that if we don't, this problem will keep coming back again and again. The overcrowded tenements, playgrounds, and poolrooms breed violence, crime, and prostitution. I know this seems to be getting away from the point, gentlemen, but bear with me a minute."

He hesitated briefly, then launched into a subject dear to him. "The playgrounds that are overcrowded are the cause of kids joining gangs. They join a gang so they can utilize the playgrounds without fear of another gang kicking the hell out of them. And now we come to the big problem. The slums. The ghettos are the place where corruption is born. Mexicans, Negros, Italians, and other minority groups are stuck down in these cesspools with no way out. These ethnic groups have to join together for protection, thus the beginnings of organized crime. If some of these people could only live where they can afford to live, their children would grow up in an environment that would push them towards something constructive in life instead of towards something detrimental."

"All that may be true, Lieutenant," Captain Mahoney said, "but do you think that has any bearing on this case?"

Morales smiled slowly. "Gentlemen, I apologize to you for getting carried away. I'll try to stick to the facts from now on. Out of all the neighborhoods I visit, there's not much being said except that the leaders of the gangs have gone into hiding somewhere. Since Little Larry has been released, I honestly believe this will give the gang leaders courage, and they will crawl out of their holes. Another thing I've learned from the informers is that there is a slight drug shortage. That's one of the reasons Roman went to Chicago, to make a buy. If that's so, we may have a case against him when the Chicago police pick him up.

Federal agent York spoke up. "If you think they're trying to transport drugs, we can step into the picture, Lieutenant. We'll notify our office in Chicago to be on the lookout for this couple, too."

"Good," Morales said. "Now, even though I don't have much of a plan, if the captain will give us the okay, we can put it into operation."

"If it sounds good, Morales, you know you can get the green light," Mahoney replied.

"I want you to call the heat off, Captain," Morales said. "I want these punks to start feeling secure."

"I'll give these punks a feeling of security all right," Mahoney answered hotly "I'll run them into their rat holes and keep so much heat on them that their smell will draw us to them."

"That's just the point," Morales replied. "When you run a rat into his hole, you seldom see him again unless you know where his hole is. At present, we don't have the slightest idea where our killer rats are hiding."

"Do you really believe that taking the heat off will do any good?" Mahoney asked quietly.

"I do," Morales answered quickly. "I believe once those punks come out of hiding, they'll try and take the lid off this town. And we'll be waiting to put it right back on-this time for keeps."

The phone rang shrilly. Captain Mahoney reached across his desk and picked up the receiver. Morales, accustomed to his superior's behavior, knew at once from his face that something was wrong. "Well, Morales," the captain said as he hung up, "looks as though that picture you sent to Chicago got some results."