by Roy Glenn
“You know what was up with that,” Nick yelled back. “And why didn’t you tell me what was up with Camille? You knew what was going on. Everybody knew! Everybody but me.”
“I couldn’t tell you nothing. I had to check you out, see if you could be trusted.”
“That why you helped me? So you could watch me? To see if I could be trusted?”
“No, Nick, I helped you ’cause you my nigga, my nigga from way back. You said you needed me to ride.”
“Do you trust me?”
“If I didn’t trust you, Nick, I’da killed you a long time ago and none of this would be happening,” Freeze said, reminding Nick that this all began when one of the Latino men that came to Black’s Paradise looked at him.
He must have recognized me, Nick thought, because the Latino immediately stood up and looked directly at him, took out his gun and shot the DEA agent in the head. Since then, Nick had been trying to remember where the man would have known him from and what was the connection to DEA agent Roman Patterson.
By 9:30, Freeze found out where Sally Fitz had been hanging out lately, and they were on their way to see him. When Nick and Freeze fell up in a place called Some Joint in Queens, they were glad they were both heavily armed. Nick spotted Sal at the bar, surrounded by four women, talking loud, drink in one hand, money in the other. There was never anything low profile about Sally Fitz.
“There he is.”
“I see him,” Freeze said. “And look, those must be the two Cubans Angelo told Black about.”
“You watch them. I’m going over there,” Nick said and made his way toward him. “Yo, Sal, Sally Fitz!”
He looked around to see who called him Sally Fitz. He only let certain people call him that. “Nick!” he yelled over the music.
His real name was Salvatore Fitzpatrick; his father was Irish, and his mother was Italian. He and Nick did some work together when Sally Fitz used to run with Angelo. Their lives took a similar turn when he joined the Army. Only difference was Sally Fitz joined because he’d killed somebody, while Nick joined after Bobby tried to kill him.
Sally Fitz was the type of guy who always had a deal going. The last time Nick saw Sally Fitz was in Istanbul, Turkey. He was trying to sell some weapons back to the guys he’d stolen them from.
“Is that fuckin’ Nick?” he yelled. He came toward Nick and shook his hand. “Good to see you, Nick. What you doing in here?”
“Looking for you.”
“For me? You didn’t fall up in this joint by yourself, did you?”
“And suppose I did?” Nick looked around the room. “I can drop every ass in this joint if I had to.”
“I fuckin’ know you can, Nick. I fuckin’ know you can.”
“Don’t worry about it, Sal. Freeze is with me.”
“Freeze! Shit, I haven’t seen his ass in years. Where’s he at?”
“Over there.” Nick pointed at Freeze.
Sally Fitz threw up his arms. “Call him over.”
“He’s watching my back.”
“This sounds fuckin’ serious.”
“Someplace quiet we can talk, Sal?”
“Outside. Come on.” Nick followed Sally Fitz, and Freeze followed them both out of the club. The two Cubans followed Freeze. Sally Fitz walked across the street and waved for Freeze to join them. Once again, Freeze declined Sally Fitz’s invitation, choosing instead to keep his eye on the two Cubans, who stood twenty feet away.
“So, what’s up, Nick?” Sally Fitz asked.
“I’m looking for a guy named Sal that hangs out with a couple of Latinos.”
Sally Fitz looked at the Cubans. “Seems like you found him,” he answered.
“Not you, Sal. The Sal I’m looking for kidnapped Mike Black’s wife yesterday in the Bahamas.”
“That definitely ain’t me. And if Black thinks it’s me, you make sure you tell him that I didn’t have shit to do with it. Me and him go too far back, Nick. Come on. Me, you, Angelo and Black, back in the day, fuckin’ forget about it. I would never. You tell him that.”
“I know, Sal. I was there when it happened, so I know it wasn’t you. But you know people, Sal. I was hoping that you knew the guy, since you both got the same name.”
“Shit, Nick, you know how many guys there are named Sal?”
“Yeah, but like I said, this one hangs with two Latinos, probably South American.”
Sally Fitz thought for a minute. “Now that you mention it, I think I do know who you’re talking about. Sal Terrico. Does a lot of business south of the border.”
“You know where I can find him?”
“I got no fuckin’ idea. I only met the guy a few times. And for the life of me, I can’t remember who it was that introduced us. Only reason I remember is ’cause we was both in the same place and somebody calls him, and I answered. And that’s been years ago.”
“What does he look like?”
“Shit, I don’t know. He’s a tall, lanky guy, maybe six foot, black hair, mustache.”
“Anything at all you could tell me about him?”
“All I can tell you about this guy is that he loves black chicks. He was with a different one every time I seen him. The guy was raving about how Queens had the best black strip clubs in the city, and how he been to all of them.”
“He say what his favorite was?”
“Place called Cityscape or some shit like that.”
“Thanks, Sal. You’ve been a big help,” Nick said and started to walk away.
“Forget about it. I hope you get this guy. Hey, Nick, it’s funny you come by ’cause I got something you might be interested in.”
“What’s that?”
“Really it’s something you could do for me. You know a guy named Paris?”
“Paris, yeah I know him. Considers himself an information broker. We did some business together. Why?”
“Yeah, well, he don’t consider himself that no more, ’cause he’s fuckin’ dead.”
“Who killed him?”
“One of his mules.”
“Why’d the mule kill him?”
“Paris sent somebody to kill her, but his bitch kills him. So Paris sends two more guys after her. She whacks them. Then she shows up in LA and she puts a bullet in his brain.”
“Just a regular Pam Grier, ain’t she?”
“You know what I’m saying?”
“It’s a colorful story, Sal, but why you telling me this shit?”
“When Paris sent the first guy after her, she was carrying a package for him. The package was never recovered. And the buyer really wanted that package.”
“And?”
“I don’t know who the buyer was, but your pal General Peterson was brokering the deal.”
“Now you got my attention. What was in the package?”
“The way I get it, it’s got something to do with South America and drugs.”
Nick took a deep breath. He knew that the buyer had to be Diego Estabon. Both the General and Felix worked for him, so it made sense that he was the buyer. That would also explain Diego’s interest in him. If he couldn’t kill Nick, then maybe he could get Black to do it for him by accusing Nick of being DEA.
“You want something, Sal. What is it?”
“With Paris and the General both dead and the package still in the open, I figure a smart guy like me could step in and clean up. But I need to know what I’m looking for, so I was hoping that since you was down there fuckin’ around with the General, you might know something about it.”
“Sorry, Sal, I can’t help you,” Nick lied. He had a good idea what was in those papers. There was probably enough information in them to get a lot of people in trouble for their involvement in the illegal drug eradication that Nick’s unit was involved in. Diego was probably not the only one anxious to make those papers disappear, along with Nick and his partners, who could be called to testify if the truth ever surfaced in Washington.
“Good luck. I hope it works out for you.” Witho
ut another word, Nick left Sally Fitz standing there.
As Freeze drove off, Nick told him what Sally Fitz told him about Sal Terrico. Freeze immediately called Black.
“I know,” Black said. “We got a tip from Angelo. We’re on our way there now.”
“He likes the black tittie joints in Queens, but Cityscape is his favorite.”
“You and Nick check that out. I’ll call you later,” Mike said.
“We’re on it,” Freeze said and turned to Nick. “We gotta check out that club,” he said, but Nick didn’t answer. “Nick, you all right, man?”
“Huh?”
“Black wants us to check out Cityscape.”
“Okay,” Nick replied, but his mind was still on Felix and the General and those missing papers. If those papers were still in the open and the buyer still wanted them, then Monika might still be in danger.
“Drive by the hospital, Freeze. I need to check on Monika.”
Chapter Thirteen
On Angelo’s word, Bobby drove out to Queens to a house on Maxwell Road. They both knew the place. It was known to be a shooting gallery, where a select clientele came to buy and shoot heroin. The place was run by a guy called Dirty Red. They called him that because of his long, red hair and beard, not to mention the fact that he was a dirty mutha fucka. Some of Red’s customers were important people who came there to get high in a safe and secure atmosphere.
Bobby parked the car, and he and Mike put on their gloves. They approached the house and knocked on the door. Mike took out his gun. One of Red’s men opened the door. “Red here?” Bobby asked the huge man.
“Never heard of him.”
“Yeah, right,” Mike said as he hit the man in the head with his gun.
“Heard of him now?” Bobby asked as the man fell to the floor. Then Bobby hit him again to be sure he was out cold.
Red heard the noise and came down the hall. “Black, Bobby, what are you doing out here?” Red was a tall man, but he didn’t weigh more than 185 pounds.
“We came for the same thing everybody else does. We came to see you, Red,” Bobby said as he literally pushed his way past Red.
“I didn’t know you guys were into this stuff. Well, since you’re already in, what can I do for you?”
“We’re looking for Sal Terrico,” Bobby explained.
“Never heard of him,” Red answered.
“Come on, Red,” Bobby said. “Stop fuckin’ around. We’re looking for Sal Terrico. Is he here?”
“Look, I know people, important people,” Red said.
“It was those people who sent us here,” Bobby explained as Mike walked down the hall. He heard voices and saw a light coming from a room at the end of the hall.
“Whoa,” Red said. “Slow down. You can’t just come in here and start wandering around.” Red walked up on Mike and reached for his shoulder, but before he could touch Mike, Bobby grabbed Red. He spun him around and grabbed Red’s throat. “What the fuck are you doing?” Red said, clutching his throat.
“You’re not listening to me, Red,” Bobby said. “And it hurts me.” Bobby tightened his grip and Red gasped for air. “Now, let start again. We’re looking for Sal Terrico.”
While Bobby busied himself with Red, Mike reached the end of the hall. The room turned out to be the kitchen. A man who looked very impatient and a woman holding a spoon over a candlelit flame were seated at the table. In front of her lay a thin rubber hose and a metal box with syringes in it.
“What took you so long, Red? Marge here is ready to fly. Aren’t you, sweetie?” the man said and looked up to see that it was not Red, but Mike. “Hello,” the man said.
“You should go,” Mike said softly, and took his gun out of his pocket.
“What the—?”
“Now.”
Both the man and the woman started to stand up. Mike looked at the woman. She was an attractive woman with long, blonde hair, very pretty eyes, and entirely too much makeup. “You stay. Finish what you were doing.”
“But that’s mine. I paid for it,” the man said. Mike looked at him. “Okay, okay, I’m going.”
The man rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall past Bobby, who was still holding Red by the throat. “Bye-bye, sweetie,” Bobby said. Once he was out, Bobby pushed Red into the kitchen, just as the woman finished filling a syringe with the heroin she’d been cooking. Mike held out his hand and she passed it to him.
“Now you can go.”
With a very relieved look on her face, the woman quickly gathered her things. “So, I’ll call you, Red.”
As soon as the woman was gone, Bobby grabbed Red again. With one arm, Mike cleared everything from the table. Bobby threw Red down on the table and held him there. “We’re looking for Sal Terrico. Is he here?” Bobby yelled.
“Fuck you, nigger. You can’t just walk on in here and…” Red began to protest, but Mike punched him in the face.
“You don’t want me to have to go room to room looking for him. If I do, most of your customers will never come back here. They’ll find someplace else to shoot themselves to oblivion,” Mike said as he stood over Red with the syringe in his hand.
“What you gonna do?” Red laughed. “Shoot me with my own shit?” Red pulled up his sleeve to reveal his track marks. “Go ahead! All I’ll be is high! And I still ain’t telling you shit!”
“Hold his head, Bobby.”
Bobby grabbed Red by the throat with one hand and held his forehead with the other. Mike held his gun to Red’s head and slowly moved the syringe toward Red’s eye.
“Who said I was gonna put it in your arm?” Mike inched the syringe closer.
Red tried to move his head, but Bobby’s grip was too tight. The terror was apparent on Red’s face as the syringe came close to his eye.
“Okay!”
Mike stopped. “Where is he?”
“Okay, he was here. But he’s gone now.”
“Was he alone?”
“No. He had some black chick with him.”
Bobby looked at Mike. “What she look like?” he asked.
“She was tall for a chick, five-nine, maybe five-ten. Dark-skinned with long hair,” Red gasped as Bobby tightened his grip on Red’s throat.
“Was she all right?”
“Yes!” Red spit out. “She was all over him, begging him to hurry up and get it.”
Mike looked at Bobby. Since he knew that Cassandra wasn’t a shooter, Mike assumed it wasn’t her. On top of that, it wouldn’t make any sense at all for Sal to be riding around with her.
He was breathing hard; his heart was pounding. He wanted to kill Red. Mike knew that he needed to pull up. Red may become useful if Sal came back. “Sal, he come here a lot?” he asked.
“Whenever he’s in town.”
Mike moved his gun away from Red’s head and threw the syringe on the floor. Bobby grabbed Red and pulled him up from the table. “If he comes here again, you call me at this number.”
Chapter Fourteen
Bobby followed Mike out of the house, leaving Red clutching his throat and breathing hard. As soon as they were in Bobby’s car, Mike called Freeze. “Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“The hospital? What happened?”
“Everything’s cool.”
“Then what you doing at the hospital?”
“I’ll let Nick explain that to you,” Freeze said as he watched Nick push Monika’s wheelchair out of the hospital.
“Put him on.”
“He can’t talk right now. He’s doing what he gotta do.”
“This about that girl that worked with him? What was her name?”
“Monika.”
Mike held the phone and thought about what Freeze had told him about Nick’s two partners. He said that while they were investigating Chilly, Monika had been shot five times. Two shots in the chest, two to the head, one hit her above the left ear. She caught one in her eye, and they weren’t able to save the eye. The other one was in her
hand. The next day, Nick found his other partner, Jett Bronson, dead with a trail of blood coming from his ear.
“Tell him to call me,” Mike said and hung up the phone.
As soon as he handed the phone back to Bobby the phone rang. Bobby looked at the number on the display, put the phone down, and started the car.
“Where we going now?”
“Let’s go check out Cityscape. It’s a tittie bar on Queens Boulevard.”
Bobby put the car in drive and wiped the sweat from his brow. “What’s going on at the hospital?”
“Nick’s taking care of some unfinished business. But fuck that for now. What I wanna know is what’s up with this woman.”
“Her name is Cat. I met her at Cynt’s.”
“What were you doing at Cynt’s?”
“You remember when Wanda was losing her mind about Freeze letting things run down at Cuisine and getting sloppy with everything else?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“She asked me if I’d, you know, make the rounds, check up on him, see if shit was running right.”
“Okay.”
“Freeze introduced me to her, and she danced for me. Damn, that bitch can dance, and she was cool. I wasn’t even trying to fuck her. We would just hang out; talk shit, that’s it.”
“Yeah, right. You knew you were gonna end up fuckin’ her when you started hanging out with her,” Mike said.
Bobby smiled. “She’s a young girl, barely twenty-two, fine as hell; nice-sized titties, little bitty waist, with a toot-booty that can stop traffic. That body made her one of the most popular dancers at Cynt’s.”
“Young girl blew your mind.”
Bobby paused before saying, “Yeah.”
“So, you been hangin’ out at Cynt’s with this woman?”
“Not anymore. Cynt fired her for being late or not showing up at all.”
“Was she with you when she was late or not showing up at all?”
“Yeah.”
Mike started laughing. “You got the girl fired from her job, Bobby?”
Bobby laughed.
“Fuckin’ up Cynt’s business over some pussy? You know better than that,” Mike said, continuing to laugh as Bobby’s phone rang again. Bobby looked at the display, and once again, he put the phone down without answering.
