No Room for Mercy (37 page)

“This shit has all the trademarks of what went down with us and
that Mexican gang back in Saint Louis.” Junior said.

“Hallmarks,” Dawk replied..

“Say what?”

“The right word is hallmark not trademark.”

“Since when you decided to get all technical and shit?”
Junior chuckled as he rested his left arm on the back of the seat.

“My girl Oneika must be rubbing off on me,” Dawk
chuckled. “She taking classes in college back in town and ever
since then she been correcting my speech.”

“You like that broad?”

“She, she good for me, man. Don’t dip in my biz, keep a
clean apartment I got her set up in back in the Ponc and she know how
to cook.”

“How that sex game?”

“I ain’t answering that,” Dawk laughed lowly.

“Why?”

“Because you gone get to talkin’ about you and T-top and
don’t care to hear that.”

Junior laughed and shoved Dawk’s shoulder. “I would never
rub that in your face, man. What’s up with Jordan? The other
chick you was dealing with?”

“Jordan ass a straight up head case. She too easy, man. She do
everything I say without question. It’s like she can’t
think for herself and that right there turns me off.”

“Hmm,” Junior said through closed lips. “A
compassionate pimp. There’s a new one.”

“I’m not a pimp, man.” Dawk smirked.

“You may not see it, but you and Walee are becoming you twos’
grandfather. Like it or not.”

“I just have to be careful who I deal with, ya’ dig? And
Jordan crazy ass could get a man entire spot blowed up. I ain’t
going out like that. Oneika the truth, me and her might be something
later on down the road if she grow a little more.”

“What you gone do with her? Jordan I mean?”

“I might pass her down to Walee.”

“See? You pimping.”

“Nahh, I just know Jordan stupid enough to go along with it,”
Dawk said through light laughter. “A real woman wouldn’t
let me do what I do to her. And it’s for that reason that I’m
reluctant about Oneika. I mean, she allow me to sleep with Jordan and
she know it. Hell, she join in most times. It’ll work itself
out in time I guess.”

“All things do, il mio amico. But back to the topic, this does
have the, the hallmarks of what we going through in Saint Louis with
what’s happened to this guy Asa Spade. He fighting Mexicans, we
fighting Mexicans. I’m just saying. Could be an angle.”

“You right. You right. But it’s a lot of Mexican clicks
out here that move weight and some of ‘em want it all to
themselves.”

“True that. But it’s a small world, il mio amico.”
Junior ended as fireworks began erupting overhead.

*******

“Damn they is throwing down out here in Denver,” Bay said
as she and her twin eyed the fireworks display with admiration, Bay
occasionally snapping photos of the exploding pyrotechnics.

“A nice show it is. But we gone make some fireworks of our own
once this girl show her face.” Tiva responded as she looked
through her night vision scope and focused in on the club’s
main entrance.

“
New Orleans...come on and raise up....take your shirt
off... twist it ’round your head spin it like a
helicopter...Saint Louis...come and raise up...this one’s for
you...this one for who...us, us, us...”
Desiree had just
been handed a fresh bottle of Cristal as Petey Pablo’s song
Raise Up
blared loudly over the speakers of the emptying club
as she led the way towards the front doors.

“
Feliz cumpleanos! Feliz cumpleanos!”
(Happy
birthday! Happy birthday!) was yelled repeatedly as Desiree emerged
from the club dressed in a red mink coat and matching mink hat and
red knee-length leather boots. She led the way out onto the sidewalk,
floor showing and show-boating while throwing hundred dollar bills in
the air. Clubbers were all around, some yelling and scrambling for
the money as Desiree danced around at the foot of the curb.

Tiva, meanwhile, now had the mark in her crosshairs. She was on
bended knee with her Dragunov set up and ready to shoot while Bay
snapped pictures of the people surrounding Desiree. “I’m
ready to shoot. You got enough pictures? ‘Cause they all gone
scatter once this woman go down.”

“Yeah. We good,” Bay answered as she fired off rapid
shots with her camera. Just then, a woman caught Bay’s eye
through the zoom-in lens and she’d grown wide-eyed because she
recognized the woman, but before she could utter a word, Tiva had
squeezed the trigger.

Desiree was just about to throw another stack of hundred dollar bills
into the air when a bullet slashed through the right side of her face
and exited the bottom left side of her skull. She collapsed to the
ground, still clutching money and was dead before she’d even
stretched out completely on the snow-covered sidewalk.

Only Carmella, who was standing right beside Desiree, knew what was
going down as other clubbers began laughing, believing Desiree had
slipped on the frozen sidewalk.

“
Ella golpeo! Ella ha galpeado!”
(She hit! She’s
been hit!) Carmella yelled hysterically over the music as she knelt
down before Desiree as scooped her head up into her arms. “No,
Desi! Desi?”

A crowd soon surrounded Carmella and when club patrons realized
Desiree had been shot, some began running away; others went about
grabbing money up off the ground, totally unconcerned about Desiree
being shot.

Back atop the roof, Bay and Tiva were gathering their items.

“We got a problem here, T-top,” Bay said

“What’s the matter? The police down there don’t
even know where we at.”

“That’s not it,” Bay responded. “I saw Toodie
Perez out there. Whoever pulling the strings behind Desiree is
running both the crew here in Denver and the one back in Saint Louis.
Our family and Asa Spade are fighting the same click.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

A MEETING OF THE MINDS

A sleek white limousine pulled up before
Eastside Bar
and
JunJie Maruyama exited with Asa Spade and Dougie following close
behind. The men were greeted by Junior and Finland and escorted
inside the bar. It was the first week of December 2003, five weeks
after the hit on Desiree Abbadando and the war between the three
factions was ratcheting up again.

Carmella had killed three more of Asa’s crew shortly after the
hit on Desires, nearly depleting him of soldiers, and she now had
Q-man and his crew riding through Saint Charles periodically, but it
was easier to bust off shots outside of Fort Knox. With so much
tension in the air and danger lurking about, Cicero was the best
place for the bosses to hold a power meeting.

Once inside, JunJie and his clan were escorted to the back of the bar
where Doss, DeeDee and Mendoza were all waiting.

“Asa Spade,” Doss said as he stood up and greeted the
man, “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you,
brother.”

Doss’s first impression of Asa Spade was that of a man with
strong character. A hustler by nature and a man dedicated to crew and
business. A stand up guy. He liked him right away.

“I heard a lot about you as well, Doss, although your name and
face has been in anonymity until this day,” Asa replied through
a smile.

Asa Spade’s first impression of Doss was one of respect. Asa
had pimped women, bodied a few men in his time, but here was this
killer-for-hire that actually murdered people for a living,
stone-faced, yet just as calm and inviting as an undisturbed body of
water. Doss was a man’s man in Asa’s eyes. Someone he
could easily trust and the polar opposite of Finland Xavier. He liked
him from the start.

“That job in Vegas changed my life. I appreciate what you and
your crew did for me, Doss,” Asa remarked, breaking the brief
moment of silence.

“It was just a job that needed doing. Now, given this photo of
Toodie taken the night Desiree was hit, we all seem to be battling
the same enemy in two different cities.”

“Seems like it. The only problem is we don’t know who’s
pulling the strings.” Asa replied as he ran his hand across his
wavy head of hair.

“You’re right, but we have some leads,” Doss said
as he handed Asa a stack of photographs that Bay had developed back
on the ranch shortly after the hit on Desiree. “Recognize
anybody else besides Desiree?”

Asa gestured his hands towards the table before him, requesting
permission to sit. Doss reciprocated by stepping aside to allow Asa,
JunJie and Dougie to have access to the booth.

Once the men were situated, Asa looked the pictures over and
acknowledged one of the people, a man only known as the Somali.

Dougie grabbed the photos and eyed them and recognized one person
right away. “This woman here was in the house the night we went
after Desiree,” he said as he pointed to Carmella’s
picture.

“Gentlemen,” JunJie said cordially, “since the hit
on Desiree Abbadando, the bloodshed has escalated in Denver and I’ve
have to decrease shipments to that city. This war is now interfering
with our business in a most unfortunate way.”

“That we agree on, and things have gotten a lot more violent in
Saint Louis ever since we loss three of our people in that fake drug
bust last year.” Doss remarked.

“Do you know who it is that you’re looking for, Doss?”
JunJie asked.

“Yeah, we do. Not too long before Lucky passed away, he said a
woman by the name of Carmella was in on that job. We don’t know
her last name, but we do know she’s a Colombian.”

“A Colombian named Carmella?” JunJie asked as he raised
his eyebrows.

“Yeah. You know this person?” DeeDee asked.

“I’ve heard the name before,” JunJie replied, a
little intrigued. “My guy south of the border mentioned to me
once upon a time that he was angry at a Colombian named Carmella
Lapiente` for killing nine people he did business with.”

“We may be staring at Carmella,” Asa Spade remarked, as
he tapped the photograph.

“Quite possibly, Asa,” JunJie replied. “We may very
well be on to something here, but let us not jump the gun. Let me see
those photographs if you don’t mind, Mister Doss.”

JunJie had remained out-of-the-loop the duration of the war, but now
that his money was being interfered with, he felt a need to get
involved directly and become more hands on with the matter in order
to help rectify and bring about an end to the bloodshed. In his mind,
the Chicago Gang was strong enough to hold their own; Asa Spade’s
crew, however, had been weakened by the war and was on the verge of
total collapse.

“What I am going to do is take these photographs and have my
friend down south look over them. I’m suspecting that this
woman here,” JunJie said as he pointed to an image of Carmella,
“I’m suspecting that this woman may be a woman by the
name of Carmella Lapiente`. If it is so, then we have a bigger
problem than we’ve suspected.”

“How so?” Doss asked.

“If this woman is able to eradicate nine respected drug dealers
in Mexico, stand up to our associate south of the border and wage a
war in two cities here in America, then she has plenty power.”

Mendoza couldn’t help but to smile. “Mister Maruyama? You
tellin’ me we got the name and the face of the person
responsible for killing my son and his wife and our guy down south
knows this person?”

“I can’t confirm, Mister Cernigliaro, but let me look
into this for you all and I’ll get back in touch upon my
return. I’ll have to make a trip abroad and get in touch with
my associate and see if he can finger the woman in the photo as being
that of Carmella. In the meantime, I think it’s best we all
take a short hiatus until we can put all the pieces together.
Everybody has money put back to weather the storm until next year I
assume?”

“We’re comfortable,” Mendoza replied. “You
just make sure you notify us once you hear anything be it good or
bad.”

“I’m a man of word, Mister Cernigliaro. And we haven’t
been doing business all these years for me not to come through.”

“I meant no offense. But this war has taken a toll on both
crews and it must end.”

“Trust me, Mister Cernigliaro, we’ll get to the bottom of
this. I’ll get you your information concerning Carmella
Lapiente`. You and your family work on finding those Somalis.”

The Chicago Gang and Asa Spade’s crew were slowly putting the
pieces together. Still, they weren’t sure exactly who they were
fighting against. After a leisurely dinner where further business was
discussed, JunJie made his way back to his private jet in preparation
for a trip abroad to meet one of the most powerful men involved in
the American drug trade.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THE BOSS OF BOSSES

It took several weeks of careful maneuvering and diligent flight
planning in order for JunJie to take a flight out of the country, but
by early January of 2004, he was able to garner the necessary
documents and forge flight plans in order to make the trip. After
refueling in San Diego, the pilots crossed over into Mexican air
space and made their way down to South America where they landed on a
small air strip just outside of the city of Porlamar on Margarita
Island.

Porlamar is a small island located on the eastern side of the country
of Venezuela and is surrounded by the Caribbean Sea. The town was
once a small fishing village until it gave way to tourism in the
early nineties. The now-popular tourist destination is filled with
beautiful white sand beaches and clear, turquoise water. Boutiques
and restaurants span palm tree-lined streets of the small city,
giving the island of Margarita one of the most extravagant night
lives Venezuela has to offer. Wealthy actors, big time music and
movie producers had often traveled to Porlamar to enjoy the city’s
night life, a world of its own whose concept was borrowed back in
America to build up South Beach.