Court Martial (2 page)

The captain started looking up at the tower guard as he neared the gate but then his attention was drawn to the approaching
pair of MPs. The tower guard felt the excitement in his stomach as the captain drew closer. The magazine stuck out from the
receiver of his M-16 like a telephone pole and appeared to be growing longer the closer the captain got to the tower. He was
starting to think that it might not have been such a good idea to screw with the captain, but it was too late to try to remove
the magazine from his weapon.

The captain stopped at the gate and noticed that the two black MPs had slowed down. He didn’t like the way they were acting
and noticed that they didn’t carry their M-16s as though they were comfortable with them. He glanced up at the tower guard
and noticed instantly that the MP had a magazine inserted in his weapon. The captain clenched his jaws. He had just taken
the last straw from the young soldier. The man was way too immature to work the prison. He had told the colonel that all the
military policemen assigned to the federal prison should be at least twenty years old. The civilian captain for the federal
guards had complained already about the young soldier’s conduct while on duty. The captain didn’t have to try to guess whether
the magazine was full—he
knew
the kid was dumb enough to use a full magazine. He probably even had a round in the chamber! The captain gave the tower guard
a quick, threatening glare; if that kid had a round in the chamber of his weapon, he was going to personally shoot the dumb
bastard!

The approaching MPs again drew the captain’s attention away from the tower guard. Something was wrong. He reached up and laced
his fingers through the Cyclone fence and held the palm of his right hand out to stop the MPs escorting the prisoner.

“Hold the prisoner right there until I check something out.” The escort MPs obeyed. The captain then glanced up at the tower
guard. “Hit the buzzer and let me out.”

The tower guard felt his stomach roll. He knew that the captain had seen the magazine in his weapon, just by the tone in the
officer’s voice. “Yes sir!”

The huge black MP sensed that something was going wrong when he saw the captain hold up his hand and stop the prisoner. He
looked over at his partner and whispered, “The gate is open. We’ve got to take them out
now
if that flicking captain suspects us… hear!”

The other black MP nodded and slipped his thumb along the receiver of his M-16 and pushed against the safety.

The captain saw the slight movement of the man’s thumb as he approached the pair. He started dropping down into a squat and
pointed at the two men with his left hand.
“Hold it right there!”
He reached for his .45 with his right hand as the bigger black MP lowered the barrel of his M-16 and fired.

The captain took a round high up in his left shoulder and spun around from the impact. The second black MP fired at the MP
driver and killed him before he knew what was going on. The driver’s body caught the edge of the open gate as he fell and
started it moving toward the electric lock.

“Stop that gate!”
the black driver screamed at his partner, who was closer to the closing gate.

The prisoner saw the gate closing and started hobbling toward it. He knew that his guards were carrying empty weapons and
it would take them a couple of minutes to load their shotguns. Regulations at the federal prison stated that all guards would
carry ammunition on their person, but not loaded in the weapons unless there was an actual threat to their persons. A dumb
regulation.

The tower guard heard the black MP screaming and saw the prisoner hobbling toward the closing gate. He raised his M-16 to
his shoulder and fired a short burst at the thick steel frame. The impact from the rounds slammed the gate shut just as the
prisoner’s fingers clawed the mesh steel. The tower guard switched his attention to the surprised pair of black MPs; they
had been told that the guards didn’t carry loaded weapons. The second burst from the tower guard’s M-16 ripped across the
chest of the black man who stood closest to the gate. The other black man fired up at the catwalk, sending sparks flying when
his rounds impacted the steel frame.

The escort MPs had loaded their weapons and began returning fire. The black phony military policeman realized that there was
no way he could break through the fence and take the prisoner with him. He had failed, so now it was only a matter of trying
to save his own life. He fired as he ran back across the open asphalt parking area. The MPs inside the prison compound returned
his fire, but most of their rounds were deflected by the Cyclone fence. The tower guard dropped down on one knee and changed
magazines. He was the only one who had a clear shot at the escaping man.

One of the escort MPs ran forward and shoved the hot barrel of his shotgun against the prisoner’s neck. “Make
one
move, James, and I’ll blow your shit away!”

“I ain’t going anywhere… honkie!” The prisoner spit out the words. He was more pissed at his brothers who had screwed up his
escape than at the MP holding the burning barrel against his neck.

The tower guard threw his M-16 to his shoulder and fired a wild volley at the escaping phony MP The black man slipped around
the corner of the building just as the prison siren went off. The whole shooting incident had lasted less than thirty seconds.

The driver of the canary-yellow Cadillac threw his M-16 into the unlatched trunk, followed by his pistol and the top part
of his fake MP uniform. He reached into the trunk and pulled out one of the uniquely tailored suit jackets that had a shirt
and tie attached in one single piece. One of their Hollywood mosque brothers who worked for the studios had made them for
this special mission. It took the black man less than ten seconds to slip the suit jacket on and fasten the Velcro strips
inside the jacket. He opened the Cadillac door and slipped over the seat. The keys were still in the ignition. He took a deep
breath and drove away. Anyone looking inside the Cadillac would only see a very well-dressed black businessman, but if they
leaned inside the car they would see his fatigue pants bloused into his boots.

The military policeman at the gate to Fort Leavenworth was closing the gate according to regulations when the prison siren
went off again just as the canary-yellow Cadillac approached. The driver lowered his window and called out to the black MP,
“Say, young man… could you let me out before you lock that?” The black businessman’s voice was pleasant. “I’ll be late for
a very important meeting if I have to wait here.”

The MP smiled and pulled open the gate just wide enough for the Cadillac to pass through. He let the three cars following
the Cadillac pass also before he locked the gate until the alert was over. He didn’t want anyone to think he was prejudiced.

The black driver of the Cadillac reached up and brushed the sweat off his forehead with the sleeves of the expensive suit
jacket and sighed. “Fuck, was that a close call,” he said to himself.

The intercom came on in the tower and the warden’s voice filled the after-fight stillness. “Guard! What’s going on out there?”

The tower guard pushed the switch and spoke in a very calm voice that seemed to have matured in thirty seconds. “A prisoner-escape
attempt. The captain is down… wounded, and one of our MPs is dead. One of the assailants is dead and one has escaped. He’s
dressed in a military police uniform and helmet liner. He’s about six foot four inches and is
big
…and I mean
big!”

The warden’s voice cut into the conversation. “Is he on foot or driving?”

“He left here on foot and disappeared behind a row of warehouses.”

“Good job!” The warden turned off the intercom and almost instantly came back on the air. “What’s the status of our prisoner?”

“Right now? He’s on his face with a shotgun barrel kissing his neck.”

“Good!” The intercom went dead.

The driver of the dirty canary-yellow Cadillac sat in an overstuffed chair across from a skinny man wearing a two-thousand-dollar
suit. The office drapes had been pulled shut and the only illumination in the room came from the ultraviolet neon lights in
the hundred-gallon terrarium. They gave a moonlight effect to the desert diorama inside the terrarium, which housed two live
tarantulas.

The man wearing the expensive silk suit opened a small pet-store shipping box and removed a white mouse. He held the animal
by its tail and opened the wire trapdoor on top of the terrarium. “I wonder if they know the difference between a white and
a brown mouse.” He tapped the side of the glass, trying to arouse the male tarantula, which was hiding under a corner of a
small flat rock.

“I don’t know, sir.” The driver of the Cadillac was visibly nervous and swallowed before continuing. “Do you like the gift?”

“Yes… yes, I do… very much.” The tone of the man’s voice eased the fears resting inside the driver of the Cadillac. “But,
Brother Karriem, we still have a problem… a very big problem now that you failed in your mission.”

“Master Elijah, if you wish me to, I’ll go back there and try again....”

The skinny man’s hand lifted up from the desk at the wrist and he moved two of his fingers from side to side. The movement
was enough to cut the large man’s conversation off in midsentence. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. We’ve already
lost one Death Angel in our attempt at rescuing Brother James. I don’t need a second loss. The Nation must always end up winning
in our fight against the devilbeasts!” A slight tightening in the minister’s vocal cords was the only sign that there was
a hatred contained in the Black Muslim leader. He leaned back in his leather chair and watched the female tarantula stalk
the terrified white mouse. He formed a tent in front of his face with the fingers of his hands and smiled. “We need a special
morale booster during tonight’s leadership meeting.” The room became very quiet as the two men watched the tarantula grab
the mouse and inject her venom into the warm mammal’s side. The mouse’s legs twitched and the animal defecated on the sand.
The minister’s smile widened. He lifted his hand and waved for one of the men standing in the shadows to step forward. “Do
we still have that white devil down in the basement?”

“Yes, Master Elijah.” The man’s voice was a deep bass that rumbled.

“Have him prepared for tonight’s meeting.” The minister returned his attention to the Cadillac driver. “Brother Karriem…”
He paused, giving the hit man a chance to regain his fear. “I don’t know if you are aware of the fact that Brother James was
the youngest Black Muslim to achieve the rank of Death Angel. He was sixteen years old.”

“No… Master Elijah… I didn’t know that. I knew he was special but I thought that was because of the money he had gathered
from the brothers over in Vietnam—”

“What money?” Elijah interrupted. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

The Black Muslim leader glared at the man in the dark room. A shiver traversed the hit man’s spine even though he couldn’t
see the minister’s eyes in the dark.

Karriem looked down at the Afghan rug and stammered, “I—I—ah—” The muscled black man broke. He dropped down on his knees,
shuffled forward around the front edge of the skinny man’s desk, and grabbed hold of the Black Muslim minister’s polished
alligator shoe in both of his hands, lowered his head until his cheek brushed the toe. “Please! Please… Master… I know that
I’ve failed you and the mosque brotherhood. Please forgive me… give me another chance!”

The guard had taken a step forward, holding his silenced 9mm pistol down at his side. The scene was almost comic and at minimum
very ironic as the huge black man with four-footwide shoulders held the small, skinny man’s foot.

The minister smiled down at the pleading member of his congregation and waved off his personal bodyguard without even looking
at him. He knew that Brother Karriem had forfeited his life by touching him. He was the supreme leader of the Nation and couldn’t
be touched by the male members of the sect unless they were given permission. “Now… now there, Brother Karriem… anybody can
make a mistake.” Elijah looked over at the feeding tarantula and smiled; it
was
a very thoughtful present. “I want you to think of something
special
for our blue-eyed devil tonight… something very special. We are going to be bringing three more Death Angels into the Brotherhood
tonight and I want it to be a very memorable meeting for them.”

Karriem started sobbing and kissed the minister’s shoe. “Oh thank you, Master… thank you for your kindness!”

“Go now and get cleaned up for the meeting. it will be held here in the mosque.”

The Black Muslim leader kept his back to the door and listened as the Death Angel Karriem and his bodyguard exited the spacious
office. He leaned back in his chair and watched the tarantulas moving around the desert landscape in the terrarium diorama.
He allowed his extreme anger to show on his face for the first time since he had heard that the rescue mission had failed.

The things that he had said to Brother Karriem about Mohammed James were true; James was the youngest Death Angel to have
been initiated into the secret sect. James also had provided the Detroit mosque with a large amount of money from the sale
of drugs in Vietnam. All in all, James deserved the support and gratitude of the Nation for his loyal service, but that wasn’t
the
real
reason Master Elijah had wanted Specialist Fourth Class Mohammed James liberated from the federal prison at Fort Leavenworth.
The real reason was that Brother James knew too much about the Death Angel sect and about the fund-raising operations for
the Detroit mosque. James was dangerous in the hands of the devilbeasts and would have to be either supported, liberated,
or killed.

Master Elijah rubbed his chin and thought about his last meeting with James. He had been very impressed with James’s fanatical
desire to kill devilbeasts and was even more impressed when James had qualified for his Death Angel’s wings before he had
turned seventeen. Mohammed James had briefed him on his desire to go to Vietnam and kill devilbeasts during firefights instead
of killing their yellow-skinned brothers. The idea was a good one and he had blessed it, and at the same time he had made
it a policy that all the members of the Nation do everything in their power to disrupt the devilbeasts’ efforts in Vietnam.