Godsend 6: All Jokes Aside (3 page)

Compton, California. Not the most beloved city in the United States, and nothing about it would attract a well-informed tourist. Even as Kiandra drove the Hyundai down Crenshaw Boulevard at 6:28 in the morning, a gunshot could be heard afar. Then another. Heroin addicts sparsely dotted the Boulevard, and several drug deals were taking place at stopped cars and in open view.

Kiandra was numb to the scenery. She was, after all, a resident of Watts, a southern Los Angeles community that might as well have been an extension of Compton. After a few turns and zipping past dozens of dull-colored, small houses with very little yard room, she pulled into a driveway and stopped behind a Volkswagen Jetta. She got out of her vehicle dress in a Navy uniform. She was as clean as a high-ranking naval officer, shiny shoes and all.

Vincent Nichols was waiting for his partner when he saw the Hyundai arrive. When he saw the woman exit the vehicle his heart began beating faster. He knew she was bringing bad news about his younger brother, who was in the Navy. He felt as though he would break down at any moment. He met the officer at the front door and said, “What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to reach Mr. Vincent Nichols, the brother of Derron Nichols.”

He opened the storm door and said, “I just talked to my brother last night. Don’t give me no bad news, lady.”

She stepped closer to him and calmly drew a silenced handgun from beneath her uniform-style jacket. “Back your ass inside, slowly.”

Echo sprang up from the backseat area of the Hyundai. He was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a black sweat shirt.

A crackhead across the street and two houses down was witnessing the whole scene from the side of his momma’s house.

ECHO SAW THAT Kiandra still had Vincent at gunpoint in the front room, so he swiftly moved past them to check the rest of the house for occupants.

Kiandra kept the silenced gun aimed at Vincent while she continued to hold an index finger to her lips.

Echo returned to the front room and said, “We got a problem. The house is clear but there’s a guy a couple of houses down being a concerned citizen. I know he saw me, but I don’t know how long he’s been looking.”

She said, “We can’t make Vincent talk here.”

Vincent said, “What the fuck do y’all want, anyway?”

Echo said, “Shut up. Let me put this new plan together.”

“Nigga, fuck you!” Your ass better be out of here before my ride gets here.”

Kiandra lowered the gun and fired a single shot at his left leg.

Vincent flinched then looked down. The bullet pierced a pant leg. Echo eased her back with an arm. He, too, had a silenced gun in his hand. He said to Vincent, “You lucky you ain’t wearing no damn skinny jeans. Now, I understand you’re tough, Compton tough. But that smart mouth will definitely get your casket dropped. I got some simple questions for you about your cousin Shotglass.” years.”

“Man, I don’t know shit about Shotglass. I ain’t seen that nigga in Echo said to Kiandra, “Me and him taking the back door. Meet us on the next street over.”

Without a word, she left the house and headed for the Hyundai.

When she reached the driver’s door, a black man pulled up in a Ford Taurus, blocking her car in.

The black man got out and said to the woman in the naval uniform, “Something happened to Derron?”

“No. He’s fine. Could you please move your vehicle so I can leave?’

The crackhead two houses down and across the street shouted, “Concrete, don’t listen to that bitch. Her and another nigga went in the house and fucked Vincent up. The nigga is still in there.”

Concrete looked at her and said, “Oh, yeah?” He rushed back to his car for a gun.

Kiandra drew her handgun again and fired three shots at the runner, hitting him in both legs, sending him to the ground at the door of his car. She swung the gun around and fired three more shots at the crackhead.

The crackhead said, “Goddamn!” and dropped behind some small hedges. The three shots had all hit his momma’s house. He no longer believed he could earn something to smoke for his good deed.

Kiandra jumped in the Hyundai and started it up. She backed the car up as Concrete struggled to drag himself out of the way. She almost backed into the Taurus and had now realized enough space to leave. She cut the wheel hard to the left and drove a U-turn across the small front lawn. When her car hit the street she lowered the front passenger’s window; and as she blew past the crackhead’s house, she sent two more silenced shots at his ass.

ECHO WAS RELIEVED to see the Hyundai. He was standing behind Vincent but was still gripping the silenced handgun that was tucked inside his front waistband. When the Hyundai stopped, Echo urged Vincent into the backseat area and then got in behind him.

Kiandra pulled off before the rear passenger’s door was closed.

Echo pulled the door shut then said, “Get to Highway 91 East and stop somewhere in Anaheim.”

She said, “Shouldn’t we change the plates back?”

“Damn! All I did was slap a magnetic plate over yours; pull it off when you get to that stop sign coming up. Make it quick.”

Vincent said, “Can’t y’all ask me whatever the fuck you gonna ask, and let me out?”

Echo shot the man in the thigh and heard him holler at an ear-damaging level. “That should answer your first question. Got another one?’

Silence. Vincent was clinching at his left thigh with both hands. “Now you’re starting to see who’s really controlling the conversation.”

Kiandra reached the stop sign. She was out of the car and back inside with the license plate in under eight seconds.

She sped away.

Echo watched Vincent’s blood ooze. He said to Kiandra, “Can you get me that long floor mat?’

She leaned over and grabbed the front passenger’s mat without taking her eyes off the road.

Echo took the mat and said to Vincent, “Put this under your leg. If you get blood on anything other than this mat, I’mma open your other thigh up and put your stupid ass out when she reach the highway’s speed limit.”

Vincent cocked his ass and injured leg up then pulled the mat underneath.

“Now let’s talk about your cousin, my favorite comedian.” Echo glanced back and saw no tails or police. “About three years ago, you stayed with Shotglass in Stockton. You was twenty-one and his address was on your driver’s license when you got it renewed. Why you stayed with him?”

“My momma died, if that’s alright with you.” Echo aimed the gun at Vincent’s other thigh.

“Wait, wait. Man, don’t shoot me no more. I’m answering your questions.”

“Keep them fuckin wrinkles out your tongue.” Echo stared at him with evil eyes. “How long you stayed with Shotglass?’

“Nine months and a week.”

“Tell me about the white girl he was fuckin’.”

“White girl? Which one? I saw him with two different white girls, but I don’t remember their names.”

Echo said, “You would remember the names if you heard them again, wouldn’t you?”

“Probably.”

“How about Ramona Hartley and Wendi Lambert?”

Vincent said, “Yeah. Them two bitches. I especially remember Wendi.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I fucked her, too. Nasty bitch. Do everything. Me and my cousin ran a train on that slut.”

“What about the other one? Ramona.”

“She was on some other shit. Shotglass fucked her but . . . maybe twice . . . she didn’t know what she wanted. He got rid of that bitch.”

“Got rid of her how?”

Vincent weighed the question. He grimaced at the pain in his thigh. “Wait. Something happened to that bitch? She suing Shotglass because he got money now?”

Kiandra saw him in the rearview mirror and said “You still asking questions?”

“No. That wasn’t a question. I was just . . . saying.” Echo said, “Why did you say Shotglass got rid of her?’

“Because he stopped fuckin’ her. He said she just wanted to try out a black man and that she wanted to get with a woman to see how that felt. Shotglass thought she was trying to give him AIDS or something.

He cut both of them bitches off. I hustled some money up, moved back to Compton. My brother didn’t like his dad, so he moved in with me.” Echo said, “You had to get shot over that little bit of information?” “Man, I thought y’all wanted to know how to get to my cousin so you could rob him because he’s big-time now. But he don’t even visit us no more.”

Kiandra said, “That’s because he ain’t foolish enough to come back to Compton.”

KALE MCFARLAND was living well-off nowadays. His ranch-style home was an elegant two-story structure on the outskirts of Ojai. The spacious, breathtaking property fought hard to compete with the backdrop of the Ojai Valley. Fifty-five acres, some of which was having an affair with the San Rafael Mountains, used only one main road for automobile access. McFarland Road stretched three miles to Highway

150. The secluded home was a perfect getaway—up until now.

Kale was in his dining room sitting at a large cherry oak table with his wife. They were being questioned buy a sixty-year-old businessman names Jiang Wok, a Chinese whose English was about average. And why not? Jiang owned three different businesses in Chinatown of San Francisco and had been in the United States since 1978.

Jiang was pacing the dining room area with a gun in his hand while three of his henchmen were ransacking the big house. He said to Kale, “This is the era of YouTube. How can I be sure some photos from your goddamn phone won’t send me to prison for life?”

“Mr. Wok, I swear to you, I lost my phone two days ago. I never witnessed you killing Peterson. I’ve never lied to you in the two years I’ve worked for you.”

Jiang was a small man, and his black suit made him look even smaller. He said to Kale’s wife, “Do you have any idea where your husband might have lost his phone?”

“No, sir. The other day he told me he’d lost it or maybe left it at the dry cleaners.”

“Well, that’s too bad because I have a witness who will swear that Mr. McFarland was running away from the alley near the gambling house on Pacific Avenue. And I’m told there was a cell phone in his hand.”

Before Kale could respond, one of the henchmen returned from upstairs with a couple of cell phones in his hand. “Got it. This phone has images of the murder.”

Kale said, “Mr. Wok, please let me explain. I took photos by accident. I mean . . . I didn’t know a murder was taking place.” Then he glanced at the henchmen, the largest of two well-dressed white men, and the other finally returned from a room downstairs.

Jiang said, “I’ve paid you nearly one and a half million dollars in the two years you’ve worked for me, and this is how you show the appreciation?” He walked up to Kale’s wife and placed the barrel of his handgun against her temple. When Kale began pleading again, Jiang pulled the trigger, sending blood, bone bits, and brain matter across the room.

Kale hollered as loud and as long as he could. He was devastated and didn’t give a damn about what would happen to himself.

The smaller of the two henchmen stepped up and smashed Kale in the back of the head with a handgun.

When Kale fell out of his chair and onto the floor, Jiang stepped over to him and said, “Are those pictures anywhere on the Internet?’

Kale shouted, “Fuck you! Kill me, I don’t care what you do! All of you can go to hell!”

Mr. Wok ended Kale’s life with six shots to the chest, and then he heard a vehicle arrive.

BRIAN STOPPED the Yukon at the edge of the long driveway. Etceterra was up front with him in the passenger’s seat while Derrick sat in the back. Although the windows in the Yukon were up, they had all heard the six gunshots. The three of them went for their handguns, and Derrick said, “Sounds like Kale McFarland is pissed off about something.”

Brian opened the driver’s door and said, “Let’s find out what it is.” The trainees followed his lead. They were all wearing suits and posing as FBI agents. Brian cautiously approached the black Suburban parked ahead, handgun out in plain view. There was a red Maserati and a Volvo wagon inside the opened two-car garage.

The Suburban was empty, and now Brian was focusing solely on the elegant home.

Inside the home Jiang said to his men, “Cops. Kale probably called them the moment he saw us arrive.”

The larger henchmen said, “They probably heard the gunshots,

Boss. What do we do now?”

“There’s only three of them. I’ll invite them inside. Hide yourselves until they’re inside. They have to be eliminated.”

Brian reached the fourth steps then eased up each one. He stood on the large front porch and rang the door bell. He glanced back and saw his trainees standing on either side of the steps, guns ready.

Jiang opened the door and said, “Can I help you gentlemen?” Brian saw no guns in the man’s hands. He calmly pulled the all-glass storm door open then suddenly gripped a handful of the small Asian man’s neck tie and snatched his little ass clean out of the house, off the porch, and onto the ground between the trainees.