The Mike Black Saga; Payback (16 page)

"I told you I ain’t leaving my family. I love Pam."

"Then what you gonna do?"

"I don’t know. But I gotta do something."

Chapter Nineteen

"It just doesn’t make any sense, Pat," Kirk said to his partner.

"What doesn’t?" Richards asked

"Black having a meeting with drug dealers in
his own
place. Black is smarter than that."

"Maybe he didn’t know about it. I mean, he wasn’t there. Maybe she set the whole thing up."

"But Simmons is there ridin’ shotgun over her drug meeting, and Black doesn’t know about it? Give me a fuckin’ break."

"They only said they had reason to believe that Simmons was there."

"This shit is weak, Pat. He was there. That picture they have of him was taken recently."

"What makes you so sure?" Richards asked.

"You saw that picture, Pat. Didn’t he have that same scar under his eye last week when we saw him?"

Richards thought about it. "He damn sure did."

"He was there; they know he was there. I got a feeling that things didn’t happen down there the way they say it did."

"Why don’t you just call Simmons and ask him?"

Kirk looked at Richards like he was stupid, but then he thought about it. "That’s not a bad idea. But what do you say we just drop by his place."

When Nick opened the door, he looked a little groggy. He had stayed a little too long at Cityscape the night before, had one too many lap dances and way too many shots of Johnnie Black. "Kirk?"
What the fuck does he want?
Nick thought. He didn’t have time for Kirk now. He had to leave soon if he wanted to catch Freddie, an old contact of his.

"Yeah, Kirk. Mind if we come in?"

"Come on in, gentlemen. I always have time to talk to New York’s finest," Nick said and stepped aside.

Once the detectives were inside, Kirk asked, "Going somewhere?"

"As a matter of fact, I was."

"We need to ask you some questions, Simmons."

"What do you wanna know?"

"
You seen
Black lately?" Kirk asked nonchalantly.

"Saw him last night. This morning, actually."

"When did he get in?"

"Yesterday."

Just like that slime Marshall said,
Kirk thought
.
"He up here on business?"

Nick looked at Kirk and then to Richards. There was a point to all these questions, and he was willing to go along to see where Kirk was going with this. But not for long. "He’s got some business to take care of."

"What kind of business?"

"Let’s stop dancing around, Kirk. What do you wanna know?"

"We have information that you and Black met with a couple of drug middlemen at Black’s club in the Bahamas a couple of days ago. So, I’ll ask you again. What kind of business is he up here doing?"

"First of all, let’s get one thing straight.
Me
and Black weren’t involved in any meeting with anybody in his club."

"So, you weren’t in the Bahamas at Black’s club?"

"Yeah, I was there, but Black wasn’t there."

"Who you meet with then, Nick?" Richards asked sarcastically.

"I didn’t meet with anybody, Pat," Nick responded in kind. "I had drinks with Black’s wife."

"Shy," Richards said. "You had drinks with Shy."

"Who?"

"Cassandra Sims, a.k.a. Shy," Richards taunted. "A.k.a. Cassandra Black. Mike Black’s wife."

"Look, Simmons," Kirk interrupted, "we know what happened in that club. We know you and Shy met with two drug middlemen. What’s going on, Nick? Black gettin’ back in the game? He up here to set things in motion?"

Nick thought for a moment before answering.
Kirk gets around, knows people, hears things. He might be some help with this,
he thought, but Kirk was a cop, a good cop, so he decided to proceed with caution
.
"His wife was kidnapped. That’s what Black is doin’ here."

"By who?" Richards demanded to know.

"You ever hear of a guy named Sal
Terrico
? Runs with some South Americans. They’re the middlemen you keep askin’ about. Check with the DEA. They might have an
ongoin
’ operation involving him."

"Slow down, Simmons. You say this
Terrico
guy that kidnapped Black’s wife is involved with the DEA?"

"No, what I said was
Terrico
is one of the middlemen, and that the DEA might have an ongoing operation involving him," Nick replied, treading carefully.

"So, what does the DEA have to do with
Terrico
?"

"They’re probably looking at him in connection with the murder of an agent named Roman Patterson."

At that point, Kirk was sure that something wasn’t right. The DEA never mentioned anything about
Terrico
being involved with the agent’s murder. They made it seem like Black was involved.
But why?
"I need you to tell me everything you know about this."

"Why, Kirk? Why should I tell you?"

"’Cause I know some things; things you need to know."

"All right, Kirk," Nick said. "Agent Patterson was at Black’s club in the Bahamas. He was meeting with
Terrico
and two other men. Both of them were Latinos, probably South American. During that meeting, one of the Latinos shot and killed Patterson. There was some shooting. During that shooting, one of the Latinos was killed,
Terrico
and the other guy got away with Shy."

"I thought she was a part of the meeting. Why’d they take her?"

"She wasn’t involved in their meeting. They used her as a hostage to get out of there."

Chapter Twenty

"You just got to trust me, Simmons."

It wasn’t easy, but Kirk finally got out of Nick’s apartment, and more importantly, got out of the apartment without giving him any information.
What now?
Kirk knew something wasn’t right with all this.
Why the different stories? Why was the team led to believe that Mike Black had something to do with agent Patterson’s death? If Black isn’t involved, why is the DEA investigating him?
Those were all good questions, none of which he had the answers to. Whatever was going on, there was one thing he was sure of: He needed to cover his ass and do it quick.

The first step was to make a call. "Captain, this is Kirk.
Listen,
there is something weird going on here that I need to make you aware of." He went on to tell his captain about the inconsistencies in the stories about what went on two days ago at Black’s Paradise.

"Wait a minute, Kirk. If she wasn’t involved in the meeting, and one of the Latinos Patterson was meeting with shot him, what the fuck are they investigating Black for?"

"That’s exactly my point," Kirk said as Detective Richards came into his office. He motioned for Richards to sit down and be quiet.

"And if there is some shit in this, that means that asshole Marshall is in it with the fuckin’ DEA. Fuckin’ state senator, shit!"

"This could get messy."

"Tell me about it."

"Look, Captain, I checked with Narcotics like you told me to, and they agree with me. Black’s got no share in the drug game."

"I know. I talked to Sanchez too. So, if that’s the case, they’re either after Black for some other reason and they’re using drugs as a cover, or they’re using him to divert attention from the real players."

"Or both," Kirk threw in.

"In either case, it’s political. Thanks for the heads up, Kirk," the captain said.

He was about to hang up when Kirk yelled, "Slow down,
captain
. Whatever you’re about to do, I need to be a part of," he said quickly. "What are you about to do?"

"First thing to do is find out exactly what went on down there. Hold on, Kirk." While the captain called the Bahamian police, Kirk explained the situation to his partner. When the captain came back on the line, he told Kirk, "The Bahamian police confirmed your guy’s version."

"What do we do now?" Kirk asked.

"I’m gonna start covering our asses and maybe, just maybe, take down a bad guy or two. You do nothing. Hear me, Kirk?" the captain ordered. "Nothing unless I authorize it."

"Yes, sir," Kirk said quietly.

Chapter Twenty-one

His name was Paul Clay, and this would be the day that he stepped up. This would be the day that he introduced himself to the big time. He’d made up his mind, after today there would be no more small-time anything for him. Today was the day that he would become a real player in this game.

The truth of the matter was that Clark Kent, that’s what they called him, was small-time; small-time drug dealer, small-time robber, small-time pimp, small-time hustler.

They called him Clark Kent because of the thick, black-framed glasses he wore. He didn’t care about the name. Those glasses had earned him names like nerd and schoolboy. While he was in jail for armed robbery, he was Brother Malcolm. Paul actually liked being called Clark Kent. In a strange way, it made him feel powerful. It made him feel like he was Superman and only he knew it.

This would be the day that Paul made a name for himself. See, if he was to improve his position, now was the perfect time. With Chilly dead, what was left of his crew had splintered into two factions, one loyal to D-Train, and the other loyal to Birdie.

For the time being, D-Train had grabbed power and was trying to prove he was worthy by moving on Freeze and the so-called dead zone. If that move was unsuccessful, then Birdie would surely step up his game and try to force D-Train out and into an early grave. But if Train was successful in eliminating Freeze, then he would surely crush Birdie, unite the factions, and everybody could go back to making money. Paul was there to make sure that happened. His plan was simple. He would be the man that killed Freeze.

Clark Kent sat patiently outside Cross County Mall in Yonkers, because he knew that she would be there. He had spent hours the night before on the phone with her, and she promised that she would be shopping at the mall that next afternoon.

She went to great lengths to make sure that he understood that she was a woman who was used to being taken care of, and used to a certain style, a style that he couldn’t afford. "Baby, you know I love you, right? We can hang out and kick it or whatever, and you can get this pussy, but until you start
stackin
’ some serious paper, the kind of paper where you drop ten grand on me ’cause it’s a sunny day, I will never be yours," she told him on more than one occasion, and it was unacceptable. He had to have her. Clark Kent was in love. He was in love with Paulleen. There was only one problem with him loving Paulleen. She was Freeze’s woman.