Dominion (113 page)

“This,” Clarence said, “is the weapon the thugs you hired planned to use on an eighteen-year-old girl.”

“My daughter,” Mr. Fletcher said, eyes steely.

“But the morons got the wrong street, as you know, Gray. So they used this weapon,” Clarence turned the HK53 three-quarters of the way toward Gray, “on my sister and my five-year-old niece.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that.” Gray looked around the room, his suit fitting even more awkwardly than usual, since his entire torso was in retreat.

The agitated faces of the big men clearly unnerved Gray, especially Harley’s face, framed by his thick black Malcolm X glasses. Gray’s eyes darted away from Clarence to the other men, then back toward him. He looked like a scared rabbit trapped under the gaze of a pack of hunting dogs.

“Gentlemen, please,” Gray said, “there’s obviously a misunderstanding here.” Harley stepped toward him and Gray jumped back. “Wait. I’m a member of the NAACP. The councilman and I have a long history of supporting civil rights.”

“I’m impressed,” Harley said with a growl. “Tell me you give to the United Negro College Fund, and I’ll dance a jig and shine your shoes, you little pip-squeak.”

“We want to hear you talk, Gray.” Clarence pointed the barrel toward him only a moment, then fixed it on Norcoast. “But let’s finish with your boss first. He’s already admitted to sleeping with Leesa Fletcher and getting her pregnant. Haven’t you, Reg?”

“Yes.” Norcoast hung his head.

Gray looked at Norcoast in disbelief. He felt unable to swallow as he watched Clarence point the weapon at his boss, his finger now on the trigger.

“If I killed you here and now,” Clarence said to Norcoast, “it might be the only chance of getting any real justice. For what you did to that girl you deserve to die.”

“Come on, Clarence,” Clancy said, stepping forward, sounding nervous. “He’s not worth it. Just call a press conference and hang out their dirty laundry. Don’t go to jail for it.”

“The Councilman’s holding out on us,” Clarence said. “There’s more he needs to confess. Okay, Mr. Norcoast, I’ll give you to the count of three.” He held out the rifle in shooting position, pointing it straight at Norcoast’s chest. “One.”

“No,” Norcoast said, voice cracking. “Please. There’s nothing else.”

“Clarence, what are you doing?” Jake Woods stepped toward him, his hands extended. “Come on, brother. You promised no serious injury, remember? Let’s think this over, okay?”

“I
have
thought it over,” Clarence reached out his long left arm and pushed Jake hard. “Stay back, Jake. Two.”

“Please, don’t.” Norcoast sounded pathetic.

“Three.” Gray and Norcoast and several of the other men looked at Clarence Abernathy in horror. Fire seemed to burn in his eyes. His finger turned white on the trigger. Everyone watched breathlessly, frozen to the floor. Suddenly the trigger gave and a hail of gunfire rang out.

The huge rifle jerked in Clarence’s hands, and a wide-eyed Norcoast fell backward, landing flat and motionless behind his desk. Clarence had fired six rounds in the second before Jake and Cairo tackled him. They wrestled him down, trying to pull the gun from his arms. Finally they pried it loose, and Jake pulled out the magazine.

Norcoast’s body lay in a crumpled heap back of his desk. Carson Gray was moaning, face drained of color. His knees buckled. He fell to the ground like a monk falling to prayer at the appointed hour. He looked up in disbelief.

Jake rushed behind the desk, stooping low over Norcoast. He put his fingers first to the wrist, then frantically to his neck. “Nothing,” Jake said. “Nothing!” He turned to Clarence, a look of betrayal on his face.

The roomful of men stood motionless, no one looking sure what to do next.

“I’m calling 911,” Jake said, stretching his hand to the phone on the desk. Clarence yanked on the phone, ripping it from the cord and dropping it on the floor. He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his Glock 17. He only half pointed it at Jake, as if he didn’t want to.

“Stay where you are, Jake. All of you. Look, I don’t want to hurt any of you. It’ll all be over in a few minutes. You didn’t do this, I did. I’ll tell the cops I misled you all. I’m just not going to let Gray get away with it.” He stared at Gray, his eyes looking as fearsome as the gun barrel. “I’ve already killed one man. Won’t make any difference if it’s two.”

He stepped toward Gray and pointed the Glock at his forehead. “Talk now, Gray, and I
might
let you live.”

“Grab him, stop him,” Gray said. “Please. Somebody help me.”

Jake stepped toward Clarence again.

“Get back, Jake, I mean it. I’m turning myself in when I’m done. But first I finish with Gray.”

Clarence squeezed the handle and the red light appeared on Gray’s forehead.

“Clarence, don’t,” Clancy said. “Let the law take care of him.”

“Stay back, Pastor. The law doesn’t take care of them, you know that. There’s no justice anymore. Well, there’s justice here today.”

“No, no, wait, don’t,” Gray begged.

“Clarence, let me talk to him.” Clancy stepped boldly into the line of fire. He whispered to Gray, “Tell me the truth. I’m not talking as a reverend, I’m not asking for a religious confession. I’m telling you if you give me the truth right now, I’ll walk you out of this room and you can call the police and get some protection. Tell me who did it and they can go after them. Give me some names. But if you don’t…well, you’re on your own.”

“But I’m innocent. I never did anything,” Gray said. “It was all Norcoast. I’ll testify against him. I will.”

“I’ve seen enough,” Clancy said. “I’m out of here.” He walked for the door.

“You can call the police,” Clarence said, “but by the time they get here Gray’ll be dead.”

“No, Reverend, you can’t leave.” Gray moved a foot toward him, then suddenly stopped when he saw a red beam out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve always supported you. I’ve always thought the world of your church. Our office donated that memorial bell, remember?”

Clancy looked at him with disgust. He walked out the door and closed it behind him.

Clarence trained the red dot back on Gray’s forehead. “You’ve got till I count to five to confess your sins. No, you’ve got a lot of sins. How about I count to ten? If I don’t think you’ve confessed everything, I pull the trigger. One.”

“You can’t let him do this,” Gray said to the men, most of them backed against the wall, ten feet from Clarence.

“He’s got the gun, we don’t,” Harley said.

“Two.”

“Wait, Mr. Abernathy, no, please,” Gray said.

“Three.”

“Yes, okay, all right,” Gray said. “Norcoast told me he got the girl pregnant. I set up an appointment for her abortion and sent her directions to the clinic, with a thousand dollars for the abortion and some extra to take care of her. That was only right.”

Leesa’s father looked at him with eyes that could kill, but weren’t going to have to.

“Four.”

“Wait! I’m telling the truth,” Gray said. “I don’t know anything about your sister and your niece, Mr. Abernathy, I swear it. I never hired anybody to kill the Fletcher girl. I thought she just died of heart failure—that’s what I was told. Okay, I started to wonder about it when I heard the autopsy said drug overdose. I thought maybe Norcoast had her taken care of. Maybe he did. I got somebody to…adjust the autopsy report. I’ll give you the name, I’ll tell you who, okay?”

“Five,” Clarence said. “What about Gracie?”

“I contacted a gangbanger—Shadow—I paid him to get some girl to set you up. I didn’t want to know who it was. I
didn’t
know who it was until it happened. I paid somebody to follow you and put you out of commission so you wouldn’t have an alibi. But I specifically told him
not
to kill you, okay?”

“Six. Who did you pay to put drugs in my coffee? I want a name.”

“Harry Belle,” Gray said quickly “Lives in Vancouver. He’s kind of a PI, but…he does other stuff too. He followed you, put the heroin in your coffee—not enough to kill you—remember, I told him not to kill you. He told me he put the heroin in your overcoat the next morning in the parking garage elevator.”

“Seven. Who’s the big black guy who looks like me, the one at the bar and at the hotel with Gracie?”

“Don’t know his name,” Gray said. “I swear it. Only saw him once. He’s an associate of Harry’s. I’m telling you, Harry set that whole thing up. I didn’t know the details. I was out of the loop.”

“Eight. Who’d you hire to kill Gracie?”

“Nobody!” Gray sweat profusely, staring at Norcoast’s motionless legs poking out from behind the desk. “All I did was tell Shadow to make sure Gracie didn’t talk, that’s all. I didn’t mean for him to kill her. Never said anything like that. It just got out of hand, that’s all. It wasn’t my fault.”

“Nine. One more chance to tell the truth about the hit on Leesa Fletcher.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with that. Nothing! I really didn’t,” Gray said. “Please! You’ve got to believe me.”

“Ten.” Clarence paused a moment, then pulled the trigger. The hammer dropped.

Gray stared, eyes bulging.

Nothing happened.

“All right, gentlemen,” Clarence said. “Thanks for your cooperation. I think we can leave now.”

Gray stood speechless for five seconds. “But…what? You can’t just…What about the councilman?”

“What about me?” Norcoast asked in a tone of disgust, getting to his feet.

Just then Ollie Chandler barged in the door. “What’s going on here, Clarence?” Ollie looked around the room. He saw the Glock 17 lying on the desk, and then his eyes landed on the HK53.

“I looked everywhere for that rifle,” Ollie said, red spreading up his neck from the collar. “I reported it stolen this morning. I’m in the doghouse at the department. You’ve got some explaining to do, mister.”

“Sorry, Ollie. I asked Clancy to call you when our drama was nearly over, but I couldn’t risk telling you earlier.” Clarence reached into his coat pocket, from which a little black wire ran to his tie. He took out a micro tape recorder, popped out the tape, and handed it to Ollie. “You’ll want to listen to this. It’s all here. After his confession about Leesa, Norcoast agreed to cooperate with us to get a confession out of Gray.”

Gray glared at Norcoast. Norcoast stared back at Gray and imitated his voice: “I’m innocent. I never did anything. It was all
Norcoast.
I’ll testify against him.”

“I thought you were dead,” Gray said.

“So you figured you’d just smear my reputation?”

“You managed to do that yourself, Councilman.” Mr. Fletcher looked at him with disdain.

“Wait, Reg,” Gray said. “They
forced
you to set me up and they
forced
us to confess to things we didn’t do. That’s how it was, and that’s completely illegal. It’ll never hold up.”

“Actually, when I found out how you betrayed me, betrayed this office, used your position to frame an innocent man and to
murder
a girl…I decided to go ahead and play along. They didn’t force me.”

“I demand to see my lawyer,” Gray said, looking around the room, hoping to find a sympathetic eye. He didn’t.

“You must have some beautiful sisters, Gray,” Ollie said. “Looks to me like you used up all the ugly in the family. Go call your lawyer—nobody’s stopping you. Just don’t leave the building.” Gray straightened his shoulders, as if to affirm his indignation at being mistreated.

Norcoast looked again at the pictures on the wall. He was standing with his arm around Leesa, and they were looking into each other’s eyes like an adoring couple. Was this a nightmare? Who’d taken that picture? He knew he’d been more discreet than that. He’d never posed with her. Or had he? Pictures don’t lie. Do they?

Clarence met Ollie in his office at four that afternoon.