Black Gangster (28 page)

The cellar door opened and frightened faces peeped out. "What's happening out there?" someone yelled.

"Just close the goddamn door and keep on partying," Prince commanded. "It was just some friends lettin' me know they had me on their mind," he added, as Ruby ran up the steps.

As Preacher opened the car door, Prince took Ruby's arm and steered her inside. "No questions now!" he ordered.

Preacher started up the motor. He was a little shaken but no worse from the incident. He put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb. "Looks like someone is playing for keeps," he said over his shoulder.

"Don't let it worry you," Prince replied from the backseat. "I know just who the sonsofbitches happen to be."

"You do, huh?" Preacher asked, surprised.

Prince's eyes flickered with rage as he leaned on the back of the front seat to answer. "You better damn well bet I do, and before this day is over they'll wish like hell they never heard of my name." Even as he made the boast, a small voice seemed to warn him to back up, that things were getting out of hand, but he paid no heed.

Ruby spoke up. "I wasn't able to reach Danny or Donnie, Prince, but I got in touch with Hawk and Bossgame. They're both on their way, daddy."

He nodded and sat back against the cushions, his mind racing. If things continued as they were, he would soon be out of lieutenants, he thought coldly. Taking control of the city was getting to be expensive.

Preacher drove slowly down the side streets. By the time they reached the apartment, Hawk and Bossgame were just getting out of their car. They stopped on the sidewalk when they saw the Cadillac pull up, but Prince waved for them to go on in. The three occupants of the Cadillac glanced up and down the street nervously before getting out of the car and running into the building.

Bossgame stood inside the building waiting for Prince. He asked, surprised, "What's the matter, baby, the police chasing you or something?"

"I'll run it down to you after we get upstairs," Prince replied as he brushed past him and continued up the stairway.

After they were settled down in the apartment, Prince began. "There's no reason for me to try and hide the truth. I'll bring it right out in the open so everybody will know where we stand. The Mafia are behind the killings of Fatdaddy and Brute. Nobody else, just them."

"Just them!" Bossgame exclaimed. "Damn, that's too damn much right there! That outfit's too damn big for us to buck, Prince, we might as well face that right now!"

Prince glanced around at his top men. All he could see on their faces was agreement with what Bossgame had said. "What about you, Ruby, you feel the same way?"

Ruby glared around the room at Prince's lieutenants. There was nothing but contempt in her eyes. "I don't sleep with Bossgame and the rest of these so-called soul brothers, daddy," she replied drily. "Whatever you think is best, honey, you know I'll go along with it."

Prince's mouth twisted into a harsh smile. "Well, since I've got support from the thoroughbred in our organization, I do believe I'll play this thing the way I feel. First of all, I'd like to pull your coats to something I've always believed. The Mafia ain't shit in the ghettos, and I'll tell you why. If they come down here fuckin' around, we'll know them as soon as we see them. Ain't no 'woods coming around asking for no information without us knowing about it, so all we got to do is stay in our black neighborhoods and wait. If they try and hire some mean brothers to do the job, they'll have to hire an army, 'cause that's just about what we got." Prince stopped to let his words sink in.

In the silence Ruby spoke up. "Even if they try and hire some brothers to do the work, they'd have to go out of town to get them, 'cause ain't no niggers in their right mind here in this city goin' try and step on our toes."

Prince could see that their words were having an effect on his men. "Preacher," he said suddenly, "I want you to have all your boys down in front of that warehouse in the morning before the first truck rolls in." He pointed his finger like a gun. "Bossgame, you and Hawk see to it that every gang we have at our disposal is down there too, and don't accept no excuses. Tell them I ain't having no shit about this, I want every goddamn one of them there. I want at least five hundred boys and girls milling around there when those trucks start pulling in. I want you to pass out the order that not one of those trucks is able to pull off after you're through with them without the aid of a tow truck. Is that clear and understood?"

He waited until his men nodded in agreement. "I don't want not even one to be able to drive away from there without the help of another truck! Then we'll see how the Mafia likes it." He stared at his men, driving his words at them so they could feel his confidence. "I don't believe that the Mafia, or anyone else for that matter, besides the police, can muster enough men to stop us if we stick together."

The men started to talk among themselves. With the aid of the whiskey and reefer that Ruby passed out, their nerves were soon built up to such a point that they believed nothing could go wrong. It seemed foolproof, now that Prince had shown them how it could be handled. As they left, they were joking among themselves about how the Mafia took it in the hip, or under the arm. They went out into the streets, full of confidence, and did their work well.

When dawn broke over the city, the first out-of-state trucks to enter the waterfront section were stopped two blocks from their destination. The drivers were removed forcibly from the cabs and the trucks completely wrecked. As the driver of the first truck fell into the milling crowd, he was kicked and stomped. In one hour, over forty trucks were stopped and their drivers beaten. The police arrived on the scene, but the first two cars to show up were given the same treatment as the truck drivers. As soon as the police swarmed over one area, the crowd moved to another block and continued to fight.

Ruby, from a vantage point away from the fighting, made a quick phone call to the Black Cougar headquarters and told them that blacks were being beaten up all over the waterfront. The Cougars rushed men to the spot to help out their brothers, and soon they were committed to the battle because the police never changed their strategy. Their operation was simple: if it had a black head on its shoulders, try to knock it off.

What had started out as a gang war had now turned into a rioting mob. Scores of teenagers broke into the neighborhood's warehouse and fought their way through the yards. "Loot" had become the password, and as the boys fought, the girls would disappear with the goods, taking to the alleys they knew so well.

Police began to arrive with dogs and riot guns. It took them a good hour to begin to restore order because, as soon as they broke up the fighting on one street, it moved to another. A state bus arrived, then another, as the police began rounding up the gang members. Even inside of the buses they kept fighting in the aisles until the police fired warning shots at the ceiling. As the loaded buses pulled away, bodies of truck drivers could be seen up and down the street.

Fire trucks moved back and forth trying to stop the fire blazes before they could spread. Ambulances pulled away one after the other carrying the dead and injured. Sometimes they carried police, more often teenagers or truck drivers.

Morales shook his head sadly. "They tell me that five truck drivers are dead, and before it's over they figure to find at least three more in the same condition."

Captain Mahoney nodded. "That's the same count I got."

Lieutenant Gazier came running up, out of breath. He waited a second until he could speak. "Well, I guess this about brings our case to an end. We picked up at least six different gang leaders, and before it's over, we'll probably have six more. With that many in the tank, somebody's got to start singing."

The captain nodded. "Yes, you're right about that. When one starts, they'll fall over each other trying to outtalk the next one." He stared around for a moment, then spoke to his two lieutenants. "I want a firstdegree murder warrant taken out on Prince, and each gang leader in our custody will be arraigned on the same charge. Find out just what gangs are locked up. If we don't have the leaders in custody, put out warrants for them, too."

Lieutenant Gazier grinned coldly. "All right, Captain. It looks like that punk has finally made a mistake he won't be able to wiggle out of, huh?"

"That's just about it," the captain answered harshly. "This is one jam five lawyers couldn't get him out of." There was a flash of bitterness in his voice. "Morales," he said, "each one of you better pick up another partner, that way you can cover more territory. I believe you two boys know more about these punks' hideouts than the rest of the department put together."

Gazier left to report the pickup on Prince, and Morales and the captain started back to their car. "Just look at the damage these punks have done." The captain pointed at two trucks still smoking from where gas had been poured over them and set on fire. "Morales, I'd bet it's over a hundred thousand dollars worth of damage to the trucks alone, without counting what's been done to their cargo."

"Say, Pat," Morales said, stopping and pointing. "Look over there, will you. Looks like one of Prince's top boys on that stretcher." The policemen hurried over and stopped the men with the stretcher. The kid lying on it had a bandage around his head that didn't quite cover the gaping wound. While they stood looking down at him, one of the male nurses stepped forward and pulled the blanket over his face.

"Well, this is one that won't be in any more street fights," the nurse said flatly.

"That's the end of Bossgame," Morales said. "What do you think happened to him?"

"I don't think, I know," the nurse replied. "We found the truck driver who swung the iron pipe right next to him. His friends took care of the truck driver, but he made sure before they got him that he would have plenty of company in hell." The nurse nodded towards the stretcher coming up behind them.

Morales walked over and pulled the cover from the second kid's face. He quickly covered it back up and turned away to avoid being sick. "There's no reason for you to look, Pat," he said when he regained his composure. "That's Little Larry on that one. Looks like he would have been better off staying in jail."

Morales started walking towards the car. Captain Mahoney caught up with him and grabbed his arm. "There's no reason for you to let this upset you, Morales. If the boy hadn't been here fighting, this would have never happened to him."

"It's hard to think that way, Pat, when you see a kid not even eighteen years old with his whole face bashed in."

"Before you go and get soft-hearted, Morales, think about that poor truck driver who probably had two or three kids at home. Try thinking about what you'd tell his wife."

"Pat, I know these kids are in the wrong; don't think I'm trying to find excuses for them. It's just that I hate to see kids throwing their lives away at such a young age."

"They're old in their way," Mahoney replied unrelentingly.

"Yes, I realize that they're old, Pat. But the way things have been going-three murders last night, and now this-we might as well put on their epitaph when we bury them: the old die young."

Mahoney rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "Lieutenant, if we don't catch up with Prince soon, we're going to bury a whole lot more of these kids, 'cause it's a sure bet that the Mafia won't take this without some kind of retaliation."

"Don't worry, Captain, we'll get him, and it won't be long."

"I got a feeling you better make it real quick, son, real quick."

IT WAS AFTERNOON now and the streets had been cleared of the wreckage. The fighting had been over for some time, but the warehouse across the street from the trucking concern was still smoking. Inside the teamster office, a big man smoking a thin cigar was pacing the floor. Every time he glanced out the window he became angrier.

"I'm going to give you one more chance, Ed. You and Bill fucked this deal up, so I'm going to see if you can straighten it out." He gestured impatiently with his cigar when Bill tried to interrupt. "I don't want any more damn excuses. You're not dealing with nothing but some young punks, and your stupidity is going to cost us over three hundred thousand dollars worth of damage."

"Boss, it's not how you think it is," Ed replied, his voice trembling. "The kid that gives these punks their orders is smart."

The cigar was pointed again. "Of course the kid is smart. Maybe I should give you over to this kid, then let him take care of your job. Now just shut up," the bossman roared. "I've said I don't want any excuses and I mean it. You got three days to get that boy, three days! This time make sure you don't knock off any small fry like those two you killed and started all this trouble. I want you to get the top man in three days, or we'll replace you with someone who can do the job."

Across town in Tony and Racehorse's penthouse, Prince sat brooding over the day's events. Every time the television came on and his photo flashed across the screen, he realized bitterly that he had made an awful error. His organization had come tumbling down around his head. If he had only thought out the matter more carefully, things would have been different. All he would have had to do was back up, forget about what happened to Brute and Fatdaddy. Common sense should have told him he was overreaching. Now the only course left to him was flight. With his picture on everybody's mind, he'd have to leave the damn country.