The Executioner's Game (12 page)

Luther was back on the street. Now he was looking for the man they called Nappy. It had been three days since he'd lost Alex in Chinatown. It was a tormenting failure that had nagged him each waking moment. He had outsmarted Alex, but to no avail. Nappy and his band of thugs had no idea what they were dealing with. Alex would backwash them all as soon as he got whatever he was after in Detroit.

It was painfully clear to Luther that Alex had changed the rules of covert urban operations. He was bringing others into the loop, forfeiting their lives, but that made it easier for him to operate against another agent. To catch him, Luther would have to do the same.

Hampton was out in another part of town trying to get info on Alex. He didn't know the city, and his complexion was probably going to hinder him, but he was giving it the old college try.

The city was still on high alert, and the Middle Eastern community had closed ranks against the local government. An Arab
business had been torched, and the fire department had been accused of coming late to the blaze. The city was still crawling with cops, which made Luther nervous.

Tonight Luther was just off Gratiot Avenue east of downtown. This was part of the area controlled by Nappy.

It made Luther angry to think of the things Alex would promise a man who'd dedicated his life to working against his own government. And sure enough, Nappy's so-called newspaper,
The Radical
, had recently published several stories revealing secret government actions that only someone like Alex would know about.

Luther didn't care about Nappy's politics. Men who were anti-American were possessed of a special insanity. They were self-important fools who thought that the toppling of the established order would lead to greater power for themselves. They never saw that the end of government was the beginning of anarchy, and that was the end of civilization.

The Renaissance Center loomed in the background like a benevolent big brother to the shabbiness of the city below. Luther walked the neighborhood that lived in this shadow, with its dark streets and darker houses. The sidewalks were cracked, and some had gaping holes in them. The harshness of winter would rip up the concrete paving, and it always took the city the longest time to repair the poorest neighborhoods.

There was so much criminal activity here that it seemed legal. Luther had witnessed four drug buys and seen three men who were carrying weapons. It was just after nightfall, and the denizens of the city were out in force.

Today was Friday, and cars were rolling into downtown from all directions as people came into the city to gamble at the casinos and dine at the many fine restaurants. The night was warm, and
Luther felt just a hint of the terrible humidity that was to come in the summer.

He crossed Gratiot and moved closer to downtown, slowing as he spotted the man he was waiting for. Luther waved at a thin black man with dyed blond hair.

Luther had recruited Sharpie to impersonate him at Alex's hideout. Luther was happy when he found out Sharpie had escaped. He'd sent word that he was looking for him.

“Guess you surprised to see me, huh?” said Sharpie.

“Somewhat,” said Luther. “How did you get away from them?”

“Too fast,” said Sharpie. “That big dude was fat, and he was a smoker. You can't catch Sharpie when your ass is out of shape.” He laughed and seemed pleased with himself.

Luther noticed that the man was nervous. Sharpie was one of those street people who tried to cover everything with a smile and an upbeat attitude. The other kind covered everything with anger. Luther didn't think much of it. After all, Sharpie had been chased by killers just days before.

“Did you get your white man?”

“I'm looking for someone else now,” said Luther, ignoring the question. “Nappy.”

“Shoot, you don't wanna be messin' with him, man,” said Sharpie.

“Yes, I do.”

“Your funeral,” said Sharpie. “How much you payin' for this information?”

“Fifty,” said Luther, and he said it like that was his final offer.

“Fifty?” said Sharpie, as if insulted. “Man, a nigga ain't gonna do nothing with your dangerous ass for that kinda money. Two hundred.”

Luther just turned and walked away. Sharpie was no different
from any other informant. He'd do it for nothing if he had to. You had to let him know you weren't about to negotiate with him at all. Foreign street people were easier to deal with. They usually had a price, and that was that. They accepted that they were scum. In America the lowlifes were so arrogant; they assumed they were actually doing business.

“Hold up,” said Sharpie. “Damn, cain't even haggle with a nigga no mo'. Okay, I'll take a hundred.”

“Fine. What you got?” asked Luther.

“These hos told me he been hangin' out in Greektown lately, playing the casinos, you know.”

“You want me to pay you for secondhand information from prostitutes?”

“Yo, man, these ain't random, skanky hos. These bitches are high-class, tight and fine, just startin' out. Don't do a lot of drugs or nuthin'.”

Luther almost laughed at the attempt to lend the women credibility. But in Sharpie's world it made sense. “Who is he hanging with in Greektown?” asked Luther, trying to hide his building excitement.

“Young girls, big dudes, you know how they roll.”

Luther knew Greektown. It was a popular shopping and dining neighborhood. It was also home to a big casino. It was densely populated, and he worried about going there on a Friday night.

Luther gave Sharpie a hundred. “If it doesn't check out, I'll be looking for you,” he said.

“No need. Remember, Sharpie can get ya.”

Sharpie walked off quickly. Luther headed toward Greektown, covering his head with a Tigers cap and his eyes with a pair of sunglasses. The shades, which helped to disguise him, were also
night-vision glasses that allowed him to see far more than he would have without them.

He tried to calm himself down. He'd botched the first acquisition attempt, and he was looking to redeem himself. But he had to keep a cool head. You become vulnerable to your enemy when you let emotion override logic.

Soon he was in Greektown and starting to look around. There were even more people than he'd expected, and now he wished that he'd worn some kind of real disguise. He moved quickly along the streets. Cop cars were everywhere, and Luther remembered that police headquarters was not far away, on Beaubien Street.

He struck out that night but returned on Saturday and then again on Sunday, still searching for Nappy.

Luther walked the streets, keeping his head down and eyes averted. When he passed one particular Greek restaurant, he stopped in his tracks. He saw a man dressed in black and wearing a hat. The man had his back turned and was standing at the end of a corner near the freeway. Quickening his pace, Luther headed toward him.

As Luther got closer, the man shifted on his feet and turned, revealing the face of Alex Deavers. Luther saw only a flash of it, and then Alex was off.

Luther went after him, dodging people and pulling his P99, then just as quickly putting it back. He'd been chasing Nappy but had found Alex. Luther had to get him before he did any harm to the many people around. He pursued Alex in a big circle and saw him dart into a restaurant. Luther followed, not noticing the sign that read
SWEET GEORGIA BROWN'S
.

Stepping into the restaurant, Luther scanned the place. He
saw a commotion at the back, and it seemed as though someone had just run out that way, knocking over a waiter.

Luther was about to go after him when he heard a familiar voice.

“Cricket?”

The word hit Luther like a shot to the head. A hand caught him by the elbow. Instinctively, Luther had begun to push the person away when he recognized the voice, and reality came crashing in on him. Alex had outsmarted him again. He'd had his own plan, and this was part of it. So was Sharpie, who had been turned like a double agent.

“Hello, Mama,” Luther said.

“We thought maybe you were dead,” said Theresa Green. She hugged her son. Roland, Luther's father, was sitting in the waiting area as well.

“Hey, son,” said Roland. Luther hugged him.

“How you doin', big head?” asked his sister Mary. She was smiling and had a glittery bracelet on her wrist. Luther was reminded why they'd nicknamed her Mary Sunshine.

He was speechless. Alex had invoked Rule 35 as a warning to him. Luther's family was now part of this mission, whether he liked it or not. Alex had deliberately lured him here so that they would see him.

“What are you all doing here?” said Luther, removing his dark glasses.

“You invited us,” said Theresa, who was crying now. “We got your letter a few days ago.”

“You said to meet you here,” said Roland. “I didn't know you even knew about this place. It's kinda new, after all.”

“He don't look dead,” said Mary. “Can we eat?”

“What you been doin', son?” asked Roland, a concerned look in his eyes. “Last we heard, you was overseas. You still in the military?”

“Are you married, Cricket?” asked Theresa.

“No, not married,” said Luther. “I'm working for several military suppliers.”

“You could visit more,” said Theresa. “I might be dead, for all you knew.”

“Can we eat?” asked Mary again.

Luther was dumbfounded. He had to get away from them, or something bad would happen. Was Alex threatening his family, or did he just want to slow Luther down? Against Luther's will the pleasing aromas of the restaurant's food invaded his body.

“Where's everybody else?” he asked warily. He was thinking about how many of his family were not yet within the rule. Micah, Ruth, and Thomas were not involved so far.

“Well, the rest knew about this but chose not to come,” said his mother.

“It's okay,” said Luther. “Uh, let's eat.” Alex was gone, so now Luther had to make sure his family wasn't further compromised. If he ran out, they might try looking for him, and that would be bad. And something else. He missed them. He had to admit it; he missed seeing the familiar faces of his people.

“One more coming,” said Mary.

“I thought you said the others were—”

Just then Vanessa Brown, Luther's high-school sweetheart, walked into the restaurant, looking almost exactly the way she had ten years before. She was tall and gorgeous. The glasses were gone, and she wore a pair of black pants that showed off every curve of her body, which was exquisite. She'd topped the pants
with a crisp white shirt unbuttoned to the swell of her cleavage. He felt that tug in his gut, that pinching warmth that a boy feels the first time he realizes what girls were put here for.

She approached their table and smiled. Luther smiled back sheepishly. He didn't feel like a government assassin, a lethal weapon, and the key figure in a major investigation. He felt like a kid embarrassed when a teacher finds the love note he's tried to pass. Suddenly he was embarrassed at his hesitation. He didn't know what kind of look was on his face, but his mother was smiling so broadly that he could see every tooth in her mouth.

“Hey, Luther,” said Vanessa.

“Hi, Vanessa.” He moved closer to her but didn't feel himself do it, and from behind him he could feel his mother's urging smile and hopes for a quick wedding and grandbabies.

“She's ‘Dr. Brown' now,” said Theresa excitedly.

“Congratulations,” said Luther. “I didn't know.”

“No big deal,” said Vanessa. “I'm a general practitioner. I guess I never was really decisive.” She laughed. “So what do you do now?”

Instead of answering, he hugged her. She felt good, and now Luther was fighting more than memories. Vanessa was awakening desires that were best left undisturbed.

“We were just about to eat,” said Luther.

“That's why I'm here,” said Vanessa.

“Girl, how did you get into them pants?” asked Mary.

“Don't embarrass me,” said Vanessa.

“You do look nice,” said Luther.

“Yes, she does,” said Theresa too quickly. “She's not married, you know, Cricket.”

“Cricket,” said Vanessa, smiling. “I remember that name.”

Luther didn't want to remember it. He wanted to ask his mother to stop calling him that, but he knew she wouldn't. She needed it.

They ate, enjoying Sweet Georgia Brown's fabulously soulful cuisine. Luther dodged questions all night. His mother made him promise to come by her house.

Vanessa made small talk, but Luther could see she wanted to speak with him alone. He took her phone number but did not offer his own.

The meal was filled with dangerous questions about what Luther had been doing with his life. He handled them expertly, drawing from his memories of Theories of Manipulation class, a fancy name for the art of lying. His family now believed that he'd been traveling the globe for a military supplier.

They soon stopped questioning him about his life and moved on to the troubled lives of his siblings. It seemed the family was in chaos. His brother Micah was on drugs, and Ruth had two babies by two different men. Thomas had drifted from unemployment to worthlessness and was now flirting with crime.

Luther didn't know what the hell was going on. His family had never been a model of behavior, but before now they had always steered clear of most of the bad shit in the 'hood.

His parents had an answer for this. It was their theory that the family had fallen apart largely because of Luther's absence. They felt that the entire family had to get together and have a sort of inner intervention to solve the problem. Theresa even wanted to invite a minister, but Roland axed that idea.

Vanessa just stared into her plate, understanding that she was suddenly in the middle of an embarrassing family situation.