Street Justice (17 page)

"It's me," Charles stated. He held the bag up to the slit in the door.

“Did anyone follow you?” replied the voice.

With an edge of annoyance Charles said, “Damn it, do you think if anyone followed me, I’d be here right now?”

The sliver of a head seemed to ponder this for a moment and then nodded. The slit closed, the thunk of a steel bar was heard then the door opened again, just enough for Charles to slip in.

Sitting in the car, Adrian asked Steve, “Did you just see what I saw?”

“That suspect put a gun in that bag? I sure did, let’s go,” Steve said.

“Where?”

“Into the building. We have probable cause,” Steve said.

“We do not,” Adrian said emphatically, “For all we know he has a permit. The guidelines state that simply seeing a gun is not probable cause.”

“Yes, but if I am not mistaken, if we see a gun and believe there is about to be a robbery, we can intercede. What I saw was a man with a gun go into a well know wheels shop, an upstanding one from when I talked to them last, in a rough neighborhood. I think it is our duty to make sure no robbery is taking place.”

“To say that is thin is to be acknowledging that it has any depth,” Adrian said shooting Steve a sideways glance.

“Well, our other option is to sit here. Sit here until we get nothing and Sam pulls us from the case. The whole idea for letting them know we were here was to break their routine. We did and they did. Now is our chance.”

Adrian chewed on a finger nail and stared out the windshield toward the store. After a few moments he said, “OK, let’s go in the front door and check on them. See if we can see anything.”

“It’s not kicking in the door with guns blazing, but it is something,” Steve said as he grabbed the door handle. Both men exited the car. Walking across the street Adrian patted his chest where his standard issue Glock 23 was tucked into its shoulder holster. Steve reached into the small of his back and pulled out a Nighthawk Custom Dominator. He pulled the slide and chambered a round.

“Jeezus,” Adrian commented, “That’s a hell of a gun. I thought we were just going to talk to these guys.”

Steve continued his march toward the door, keeping his eyes locked on the glass windows fronting the building, but broke into a smile, “Just talk, of course, but it never hurts to be prepared, right?” He slid the pistol back into the holster in the small of his back. He picked up his pace a fraction to make sure he got to the door before Adrian.

Steve pulled the handle and stepped into the lobby with Adrian in tow. The lobby was empty, Steve shouted out, “Hello?”

Obvious rustling was heard behind the thin wall separating the front from the back. Adrian stepped up to the counter, unbuttoning his jacket to make reaching his Glock easier. He set both hands on the counter and echoed, “Hello?” Steve eased backward, back nearly against the glass, getting the best angle possible on the door leading to the back, while still covering for Adrian.

The door opened the thinnest crack and slammed back closed. More arguing was heard, this time louder though still not quite loud enough for Steve or Adrian to make out what was being said. Finally the door opened again and opened wide. A short fat, ball of a man waddled through, breathing heavy. Steve saw at least two men through the opening before the door closed.

Wheezing, the round man approached the counter and asked, “May I help you?” He stood about five feet eight inches and seemed nearly as wide as he was tall. His chin rolled smoothly down, in a bulbous crest, into his chest. His arms and body jiggled with each step. He had a large afro which gave him the impression of a two ball snowman. The man was out of breath by the time he reached the counter.

              Adrian approached the counter and said, “Yes, we have reason to believe there is something afoul going on here.”

              Shaking his head back and forth, causing his ample jowls to sway, “I haven’t seen anything.”

              Raising his voice to be heard in the back of the building, Steve said, “Let’s have everyone from the back come out here.”

              The round man glanced nervously at the door leading to the back room, then at Steve, “This is a private establishment, we don’t have to unless you got a warrant.”

              “Actually we don’t need a warrant if we believe a crime is in progress,” Adrian corrected.

              “Yeah, and I think you’re being nervous because someone back there is holding hostages and is making you tell us to go away,” Steve offered up. Adrian shot this a small scowl but then returned his attention to the front.

              “N-n-nah, man, ain’t nothing like that here,” Jowls replied. A thud was heard against the wall behind him. Both Jowls and Adrian flinched. Steve deftly pulled his Nighthawk out and aimed it at the door. His breathing slowed and his was relaxed yet rigid. The cool steel felt cold on his finger tip as he rested it against the barrel above the trigger guard.

              KeiVarae looked over at Charles and Grant, "They are coming in.”

Grant, a round man, looked at the screen, then back at KeiVarae and said, "Don't do anything stupid, man."

"Stupid, I ain't doing anything stupid, but this is the FBI, not the local police. They are on to us, but we ain't never seen any backup, they are alone. Let's take care of them, make it look like an accident and we're good," KeiVarae pleaded, "Let's take care of this now, before they gain any traction."

"Listen, man, just stay calm," Grant said.

"What do you think?" KeiVarae asked Charles.

Charles froze like a deer in headlights. "Man I don't even know," Charles offered, "We can't be having the FBI sticking around but I don't want to do anything Marquis wouldn't like. We don't need any more heat."

"Exactly, we don't need any more heat, so let's take care of this now."

"Nah, man, let me go take care of this." With that, Grant staggered toward the door in the only way his square frame would allow him. He staggered through the door, KeiVarae trying to look out while Charles tried to close the door as fast as they could. Charles looked over at the table piled with cash and product.

KeiVarae said, “Let's go get these suckers.”

Charles calmly replied, “You can't do that. They’re FBI agents.”

“Yeah, man, well they're still just people. Put them in the trunk of a car, take them to the Sound and down they go. Easy as that. People will come looking for them, I don't care man. There will be no evidence.” KeiVarae moved toward the door, reaching for the gun at his waistband.

“You can't do that,” Charles stated as he stepped forward, slamming KeiVarae against the wall with a loud thud could be heard throughout the building. Both men suddenly froze. Charles and KeiVarae listened they could her here Grant telling the FBI agents there was no problem. They looked through a small port used to spy on the front office. KeiVarae saw Steve with his weapon drawn. “That's it man, I'm going out there.” He lunged, pushing Charles away.

Before Charles could move, KeiVarae flung the door open. Steve saw the movement of the door and reacted quickly. As KeiVarae stepped through the door he fired twice. Steve watched KeiVarae move in seemingly slow motion, seeing the two shots, taken hastily, in an adrenaline filled motion, knowing they would not come even close to him or Adrian. One of the large windows in the front of the shop exploded, showering the ground with splinters of glittering glass. Steve ignored the show and responded with a smooth, mechanical motion, pivoting his arm, sliding his finger under the trigger guard and pulling the trigger. The slugs caught KeiVarae in the shoulder. His body spun and fell back through the door. Grant stared at Steve, swung to look at KeiVarae’s body and then dropped down behind the counter. Steve, without slowing down took two steps and leapt onto the counter, sliding across and dropping onto Grant. Grant let out an audible puff.

“So nothing we need to worry about, huh?” Steve asked, though he was only still for a moment. Adrian ducked behind the counter in a defensive stance. Steve meanwhile picked up speed, crossing in front of the door, listening for movement, trying to attract any fire from anyone poised in the back room. While it was human nature to assume a defensive stance, Steve knew in the scenario, delay on their part would only give the remaining people in the store time to dig in. Hearing and seeing nothing, and having no bullets rip through the air from the doorway, he pivoted quickly then slid through the door.

His eyes took a quick inventory. Without ever stopping he saw a table piled with drugs and cash, a half dozen chairs surrounding the table, a small pile of backpacks and walls lined with filing cabinets. Tucked into one corner, Steve saw a man balled up, hands in the air. Another doorway, to the left, led to a dark room. Steve ignored the cowering man and headed for the wall next to the darkened doorway. Sidling up next to the door Steve paused for a moment. He stuck his head around the corner then pulled it back, trying to take a mental snapshot in the dark room.

Since it was dark, he could not see much, but he did locate the light switch inside the room on the other side of the doorway. Quickly he crouched, crabbed over across the open doorway and reached his arm in as he stood back up, bathing the room in light. He then immediately repeated his move, sticking his head around the corner quickly, then pulling it back. This time the mental picture was fairly clear, several racks, lined with car and truck rims and a few tires. Besides two tables there was little else in the middle of the room.

He stuck his head around the corner again, this time a little slower, he willed his breathing slower. He was nearly sure there was at least one more person back here. Grant wheezed, but Steve did not look back. He heard Adrian scrambling over the counter and figured he could watch the fat man. Steve leapt and rolled into the room looking three hundred and sixty degrees as he did. The walls blurred but his brain sorted the images automatically. He was looking for a movement out of place, a piece of the scene that was not only moving bottom to top but either sideways or at a different rate than everything else. His mind processed the last of the swirl as he rolled into a crouch.

He pivoted toward the far wall as his mind relayed motion there in the corner. A door had been flung open, hit its stops and was rebounding. The rest of the room was still. Steve stood and ran. He kicked open the door and sprinted out of the back of the store. In the rear parking lot he visually swept the area. He saw a shape disappearing down the sidewalk and took off after it.

A block later, Steve had halved the distance to fifty feet. Half a block later the shadow’s pace had slowed and Steve was nearly on him. Steve gave an extra kick and stretched to grab the billowing shirt in front of him. Just as his fingers were brushing fabric, the figure cut left down a small alley. Steve cursed as he overshot then returned to the chase. The figure was darting back and forth, dodging between the dumpsters lining the small way.

Steve, in stride, jumped and used his hands to pull himself up onto the top of the closest dumpster. As the runner below had to cut left and right in a maze, Steve hopped dumpster to dumpster. Steve was in better shape and a straight line is a shorter route than a zig-zag so by the end of the alley Steve nearly had to wait to jump on the runner.

The two men hit the ground. Steve’s knees were firmly planted on the runner’s shoulders and he rode him to the ground. The smaller man let out a huff. Quickly Steve reached down, unbuckled his belt and wrapped them around and through the detainee’s wrists. Then he hauled the man to a standing position and marched him back to the shop.

When they got there, two squad cars were already on the scene. Their flashing blue LED lights made the back parking lot look like an odd, silent dance club. He dragged his capture into the shop. Grant was there, hands cuffed behind him, sitting on a short stool. His head drooped, giving him a litany of chins. KeiVarae was also cuffed but was still lying in the same spot on the floor. “You caught him,” Adrian said, nodding toward Steve. Throwing a thumb toward KeiVarae he added, “EMTs are on the way for this one.”

“Of course I caught him,” Steve retorted. He led his quarry to another of the short stools and sat him down.

Adrian walked over and asked, “What’s your name?”

“Charles,” came the mumbled reply.

“OK, Charles, I’m guessing you’re smart enough to put all the pieces together and know why we’re here. So why don’t you fill us in?” Adrian knew this was an open ended request but thought he might give Charles a chance to spill everything and did not want to constrain him. A long shot but it wouldn’t hurt anything to try it.

“I want a lawyer,” Charles said, this time louder with more authority.

Adrian looked at Steve and laughed. Charles looked at Adrian, then to Steve then back at Adrian raised his eye brows in a quizzical look. “This guy wants a lawyer, after being involved with the attempted murder of a federal agent…” Looking at Charles he inserted, “That’s me.” Returning his gaze to Steve he continued …”resisting arrest, drug trafficking, I’m sure we have something we can charge him for with all this money being around and about ten other charges I haven’t thought up yet, and he wants a lawyer. Now that’s funny.”

“You have to give me a lawyer, that’s my right,” Charles protested but with a little less enthusiasm than he had before.

“Oh I don’t know, this all looks to me like a terrorist financing operation to me, what about you Steve?”

“Oh, very much, definitely.” Steve nodded and pursed his lips in an exaggerated look of thought.

“And terror financing operations come under the Department of Homeland Security, which has very different rules than the regular legal system.”

“Man, this ain’t no terrorist front,” Charles insisted.

“Oh, they may figure that out eventually but that may take a while, a long while and you can cool in jail during that time,” Adrian said.

“Man, jail don’t scare me,” Charles calmed slightly, “Shit, it’ll give me a chance to catch up with some of my boys.”

Adrian straightened, “Well, jail may be no big thing for you, but what about your grandmother?”

Charles sat bolt upright. Steve followed up with, “The car you drive, that is registered in her name. That means we can charge her as an accessory. For all we know she knows what you do and wanted to help.”

“You leave my me-ma out of this,” Charles demanded.

“I don’t think she has any boys in jail, watta’ you think?” Adrian said to Steve.

“Nope, no boys, no girls, no friends. And we’ll make sure she knows it is your fault that she is in there,” Steve continued.

“No, please, leave her alone,” Charles pleaded. He slumped and his body went limp.

Quietly, in almost a whisper, Adrian said, “You know what we want.” Adrian and Steve sat in silence, letting the weight of the moment put pressure on Charles, letting Charles’ mind run wild, picturing his grandma in jail.

“Fine,” Charles finally uttered, his body slumping more, “The man you want is Carl Marfori. He’s the man in charge.”

“Where do we find him?” Adrian asked quietly, not wanting to break the vibe of the room. Charles was broken but Adrian knew that at any moment, given something to fight against, everything could change. It didn’t even need to be much, a tone or a wrong word, so Adrian needed to keep Charles talking while saying as little as possible himself.

Charles let out a deep sigh and softly said, “He has a townhouse over on Capitol Hill.” Adrian handed Charles a piece of paper and a pen without saying a word. Charles scrawled the address and handed them back.

“Thank you,” Adrian said.

Charles looked up at him and Adrian saw the strength returning to his eyes, “Now is my me-ma out of this?”

Continuing his calm demeanor Adrian said, “Yes she is.” Adrian wanted to tell him that there was no way they could have ever booked the bust as a terrorist financing ploy or that convincing any judge that his me-ma was anything more than a nice old lady would have been nearly impossible but he did not think that would help the situation.

A uniformed office came over and took custody of Charles. Adrian and Steve headed out to the car. “Now what?” Steve asked, “Want to go visit Carl?”

“Not tonight,” Adrian said, suddenly feeling depleted, “I have a feeling he isn’t going anywhere and we have paperwork to do.”

Steve grinned his wide, bright grin and said, “No, you have paperwork to do. I’m going to go find a drink.” Adrian knew from multiple past experiences that protesting would do no good. He gave Steve a small wave and climbed into the car.

Russ and Jeff walked down Occidental Ave. headed to Occidental Park. “So who is this guy?” Russ asked.

“He is a friend of a friend, basically a street thug who runs a crew and controls a corner. He is semi-aligned with my old dealer, which is how I know him, but not directly,” Jeff answered.

“And what are we doing?”

“We’re trying to see if he wants to split our package,” Jeff asked.