A Hood Legend (23 page)

Menage watched the boat speed ahead while Dough-Low shook his head in disgrace. “Not today,” Menage said. “Today I won't lose. Yo, Dough, have I ever lied to you?” he yelled.

“Nah.”

“Well, I ain't about to start. Hold on!” He slammed the throttle forward to WOT (wide open throttle) and as the speedboat reached 99.1 knots, they eased up next to the Donza. Dough-Low looked to his left to see the surprised look on the driver's face. The two boats ripped through the water at blinding speed. At 100.2 knots, the Donza was still side by side with Menage's Skater 46. The Donza began to stagger at 110.3 knots. Dough-Low stuck up his middle finger as he and Menage left the Donza in the dust. Menage eased off the throttle after increasing the speed to 128 knots. As the speed decreased to 60 knots, he saw Felix's luxurious yacht come into view.

Menage and Dough-Low boarded Felix's yacht and were led toward the front of the vessel where Felix sat with Detective Covington.

“I see we have company,” Felix said nodding toward Dough-Low.

Menage looked at Dough-Low and motioned for him to take a seat. “Yeah, this my man Dough-Low. Dough, this is Felix and ...” He looked at Detective Covington, not knowing how to introduce him. Detective Covington extended his hand toward Dough-Low.

“Just call me Covington,” he said. Dough-Low didn't shake his hand but made a fist and bumped it up against Covington's instead.

Felix lit a cigar and inhaled deeply. “I didn't get much sleep last night—been waiting for a phone call with demands or whatever, but first let's lay all our cards on the table.” Dough-Low was shocked when Felix revealed that Covington was a police officer and also his nephew, but family came first. Now that Covington could speak freely, he did.

“I have my partner on a goose chase by sending him back to your house, but as Felix said, nothing's come up about your girl ... sorry.” Covington informed Menage about how they would be able to trace the call once they got it. With so much going on, he forgot to tell his uncle about Dwight's girl and the pictures he had. And the last thing on Menage's mind was the surveillance tape.

“The question is,” Detective Covington added, “do we tell them that they have the wrong girl?” All eyes were on Menage. Dough-Low could see his jaw muscles become tense as he balled up his fists. Menage had been thinking about this from the beginning. What if it was a mistake? What would the kidnappers do if they knew they had the wrong girl? He knew Felix had to be willing to give up anything just as if it was his girl they were holding. Would he?

“No ... it will only make them mad ... we'll just try to see what they want, and that's the end of the stick you're holding, Felix!” he said looking directly into Felix's eyes.

“I'll meet any demand they come with,” Felix said. No one spoke. Only the sound of a few seagulls up above broke the silence. One of Felix's bodyguards walked up to the table and whispered in his ear. He placed a cell phone in his hand and everyone at the table knew it was the call they'd been waiting for. Menage clenched his teeth and glared at Felix, giving his all not to lunge across the table and snatch the phone. Detective Covington was already on his way to the lower deck to make sure the small plate of the art-tracking device was up and running. Felix knew he had to keep the caller on the line for a certain amount of time in order for the call to be traced. Every second counted. Felix answered the phone and Menage focused on his lips, as he spoke in hushed tones. All he wanted was for Chandra to be alive and well.

“Yes, I understand,” Felix said. “But how do I know she's not already ...” His voice trailed off and he looked into Menage's eyes and nodded his head. He continued, and asked the dreaded question of whether or not Chandra was still alive. The man at the other end of the line ignored his question.

“Ten o'clock tonight, Mr. Marchetti. I will call you again at nine thirty to let you know of any change. Once I get the shipment, you'll get your girl back. It's as simple as that. Now have a nice day, Mr. Marchetti.”

“No ... wait ... hello ... hello ...” The phone went dead. Felix made a gesture toward his bodyguard, who gave him the call earlier, to come and get the phone. Felix took a deep breath and wiped his forehead with a silk cloth. He quickly told Menage what the deal was; some guy calling himself Scorpion wanted him to give up two hundred kilos of pure coke in exchange for Chandra.

“How is she?” Menage asked.

Felix cleared his throat. “He didn't say. He plans to fly in by helicopter to pick up the drugs and I'm supposed to meet Chandra at an airfield, but he didn't say which one. I'm sorry ... but like I said, I'll meet any demand to get her back ... it goes down at ten tonight.”

“What about dis trackin' shit y'all 'posed ta have?” asked Dough-Low.

As if on cue, Detective Covington reappeared, running up to the table gasping for breath. He made a mental note to cut back on the Newports ... for the umpteenth time.

“Good news ... and bad news,” he said, not knowing whether to sit or stand.

“No time for games, out with it!” roared Felix, slamming his hand on the table nearly tipping over his drink.

Detective Covington winced. “Sorry ... we got a fix. The device has a lock, but I won't have the exact location until the next satellite passes, which will be at seven. That's something I don't have control over. Only the government can control those real-time satellites they have in orbit, but I'm doing the best I can.”

“So at seven we'll know their location?” Felix asked.

“Yeah.”

Felix sat back and folded his hands. “They want it to go down at ten, but he—or they—will call again at nine thirty. We'll know how to find them ... and hopefully Chandra as well at seven. Menage, it will be up to you on how we move on this, but my offer still stands to make the trade.”

Menage stood and looked at Felix then Covington. “Just call me when you get the location,” he said turning to leave the boat.

Felix got up from his seat, but he knew it was pointless to call after him. He could see the pain that Menage tried to hide.

“Take care of him,” he said turning to Dough-Low.

Dough-Low shrugged his massive shoulders. “He's a grown-ass man,” he replied before turning to follow Menage.

* * *

“So what's the plan?” yelled Dough-Low over the roar of the speedboat engine.

“We just wait ... time will tell.”

 

 

 

 

To Be Continued in
Menage's Way

Coming November 2016