In a Cold Sweat (16 page)

While Black dealt with his personal issues in the Bahamas, he was the topic of discussion at a meeting of The Commission in New York. Bruce Stark sat in the corner and looked out the window, while BB and K Murder argued back and forth about what they should do next.

“It was stupid to send one mutha fucka to try and kill Black. Now Freeze got his whole set out in the street tryin’ to find out who sent him. Where did you find that sorry mutha fucka anyway?” BB asked

“I brought him in from Cleveland.” K Murder looked at BB. He was tired of his shit and all that whining about this shit was getting on his nerves. “What your ass worried ’bout? They ain’t gonna trace him back to you.”

“And what if they do? What then?” BB demanded to know.

K Murder stood up and so did BB. “Then you’ll just have to man up!”

“What you say to me, nigga?” BB put his hand on his gun.

“I said—”

“No, nigga, I heard what the fuck you said.” BB took out his gun and so did K Murder.

The two stood silently with their guns pointed at each other, not saying a word.

“What?” Stark asked. “You two gonna shoot each other?”

Neither man answered.

“I didn’t think so. Now put the guns down, sit down and let’s get back to business,” Stark commanded.

“Only business we got, Stark, is why you let this nigga be down?” K Murder asked.

“Mutha fucka, don’t you know I will kill you right now!”

“Make a move.”

Stark got up and quickly snatched the gun from K Murder’s hand and pressed it against his temple.

 
“What now K? What else you got to say? I ain’t BB. You fuckin’ know that I will put a bullet in your brain and call my fat-ass Mexican maid to clean up the blood.” Then he took out his gun and pointed it at BB. “And you, mutha fucka? What you gonna do?”

BB lowered his weapon and sat down. “Nothin’, Stark, we straight.”

Stark handed K Murder back his gun. Once again, he pointed it at BB. “Bang,” he said and sat down, but he kept his gun in his hand.

Stark looked at his two so-called partners and wondered how he ever thought it was a good idea to get involved with them. “You two make me fuckin’ sick. Instead of us talkin’ ’bout what we gonna do about Black, all you two wanna do is argue like little fuckin’ bitches. K, I know Cash was your boy and shit, but BB is right. One fuckin’ guy to kill Black? Come on, you should have known better.”

“Yo, man, that’s how your boy set it up. The plan was for him to catch Black in the pussy, walk in and cap ’em both,” K said in his defense.

“What went wrong?” Stark asked and got in his face. “Why is Black still alive and you ain’t heard from your shooter?”

“I don’t know what happened to him.”

“I’ll tell you what happened to him. Black happened to him, that’s what happened. You should have sent two shooters and had a back up.”

“Yeah,” BB threw in.

K Murder looked at BB and decided right then that he was going to kill him. “Yeah, what?”

“You shoulda had at least two shooters,” BB said.

“You come up with that on your own or you just repeatin’ what Stark said?”

“Would both of you shut the fuck up!” Stark yelled.

“Fuck you, Stark. Black killed Cash and he’s gotta die for that shit. I’m gonna kill that nigga myself. As for this nigga here and this fuckin’ commission, I’m out. I’ll handle my own business.”

K Murder got up and backed out of the room with his gun drawn just in case BB wanted to get stupid. Once he was out of the room, he lowered his gun and told his boyz to come on.

During the ride down in the elevator, K Murder told his boyz what happened and that he had just quit The Commission. “It was a good idea, but it just had the wrong mutha fuckas in charge, that’s all. Fuckin’ Stark thinks he’s so fuckin’ smart,” K Murder said as they exited Stark’s building and headed for their truck.

K Murder was so agitated by what had gone on with BB and Stark that he didn’t notice the white panel truck that was parked across the street.

“Team one to team two,” the voice said through the headset.

“Go ahead with your traffic,” was the response from team two.

“Subjects have exited the building.”

“Standing by.”

Just before K Murder reached his Escalade, he stopped in his tracks. He turned to one of his boyz. “And that bitch-ass BB gotta die.”

“Done,” the man said and opened the back door of the Escalade for K Murder to get in.

“I want you to take care of that personally. None of that out of town shit, you hear me? And remind me to call Skyy in Cleveland and ask him what kinda mutha fucka he sent me,” K Murder said and got in.

As the Escalade pulled off, the panel truck fell in behind it. “Team one to team two.”

“Go ahead.”

“Subject vehicle is moving to your position. You should have them in sight right about now.”

“I got them.”

At that moment, a late model Impala pulled out into traffic just in front of the Escalade, with the panel truck right behind it. The three vehicles drove down the street and approached an intersection.

“Team two to team one. I’m in position.”

“Proceed on my mark.”

“Acknowledged team one.

“Three, two, one, mark.”

The Impala slammed on his brakes and stopped.

“What the fuck?” K Murder yelled as his Escalade came screeching to a stop, barely avoiding rear-ending the Impala.

The panel truck pulled up along side of the Escalade.
 
The door opened and two men dressed in black with ski masks opened fire on the Escalade with Tec-9’s.

People on the street ran for cover, while others dropped to the ground when the shooting began. The gunmen sprayed the Escalade with nine millimeter shells. K Murder and his men never had a chance.

When Kirk and Richards arrived on the scene, a crowd of on lookers had formed. They were met by detective Sanchez.

“What you got Gene?” Kirk asked as he approached the bullet riddled Escalade that the crime scene techs were collecting evidence from.

“The one in the back is Kevin Murdock, better known on the streets as K Murder,” Sanchez informed the two homicide detectives.

“What's his deal?” Richards asked.

“Just another piece of shit dealer,” Sanchez replied.

Kirk looked around the crowded street. “Anybody see anything?”

“Witnesses say that the Escalade had to stop short to avoid hitting the car in front of it. Then a white truck pulled up along side. Pop, pop, pop, three body drop.”

“What are you, a rapper now?” Richards asked.

“No, smart ass, but here’s something for you. This puke was a known associate of the late Steve ‘Cash Money’ Blake.”

“The asshole that was murdered last week?” Richards asked.

“The same. Word on the street is that Blake, Murdock and two others, Billy Banner and Bruce Stark, who, by the way, lives about three blocks from here, formed what they called The Commission.”

Richards laughed. “These assholes kill me with this shit. The fucking commission. Give me a fucking brake.”

“Wait,” Sanchez said. “There’s something else.”

“What's that?” Kirk asked.

“All four of them used to be Birdie’s lieutenants,” Sanchez informed them.

“No shit,” Kirk said.

“It gets better. The Commission was formed as not only a buying co-op, but to protect themselves against your old friend, Mike Black.”

“Now two of them are dead,” Richards said.

“I have to give it to Black. Anytime one of these assholes gets too big they seem to die violently. Makes my job easy. It just creates work for you guys,” Sanchez said and walked away.

“You think Black had
them
killed?”

“I don’t know, Pat. Let’s go ask him.”

Not knowing that a second commission member had been murdered, Nick and Freeze were in the streets as they had been for the last three days, looking for whoever tried to kill Black. During that time, they had talked to just about everybody they could think of that might know anything. “But nobody knows a fuckin’ thing,” Freeze said as he got back in his Navigator.

“Somebody gotta know something, Freeze. We just ain’t found them yet,” Nick said and Freeze took off. “I know I asked you this before, but, you pissed off anybody lately?”

“I piss off mutha fuckas everyday, but if that was the case, then why would they go after Black? If somebody wanted to get at me, I ain’t hard to find.”

“Just askin’. So where you goin’ now?” Nick asked.

“Black got a snitch named Manny,” Freeze replied.

“I know Manny.”

“Shit, everybody
know
Manny. He hangs out at some stops off the Concourse.”

“You think he knows something?”

“Ain’t no tellin’, but we runnin’ out of options and the last thing I want is for Black to get back tomorrow and we don’t have shit to tell him,” Freeze said as his cell phone rang. “What's up?” he answered.

“Freeze?”

“Yeah, who this?”

“Angelo Collette.”

“Yo,
What’s
up, Angelo?” Freeze asked. Mike and Angelo were in the same homeroom in high school. Back in the day when they both were freelancing, they did a few jobs together. Now Angelo was a made man with a crew of his own.

“I need to talk to Mike. He wouldn’t happen to be with you would he?”

“No, Black is out of the country. He supposed to be back tomorrow. Why?”

Angelo laughed a little. “Tell him it’s nothin’ major, but I need to talk to him when he gets back.”

“No problem,” Freeze said and was about to end the call.

“Ask him,” Nick said.

“Hold on a second, Angelo,” Freeze said and turned to Nick. “What you say?”

“Angelo hears a lotta shit. Ask him if he heard anything about Black.”

“Yo, Angelo.”

“I’m here.”

“Somebody tried to kill Black a couple of days ago. You hear anything about that?”

“Black or white?”

“Huh?”

“Was the shooter black or white?”

“Black, why?”

“No. I didn’t hear anything about that, Freeze, sorry. But I’m on it. I’ll ask around, see if I hear anything. If I do, I’ll let you know,” Angelo promised.

“Good enough,” Freeze said. “Why you ask if the shooter was black or white?”