by U. E. Wynn
Koran was lost. “Shit, I don’t know.”
Jahad chuckled. “A’ight, say one of the weight pushers gets knocked and starts snitching. The soldiers body’s his ass and whoever the middle man was. That way it’ll never reach the top. Understand now?”
Koran nodded marveled by the set up. He knew that no M.G. was directly involved with drugs, but had no idea how complex the operation really was. “So you saying the only person who could say they got something from you was Derrick. The other M.G.’s under him didn’t know shit pertaining to you,” he said fully grasping the concept.
“Exactly. That’s how we been going at it so strong for so long. Can’t nobody tie us to shit. Plus everything we own is accounted for on paper from our businesses. Our paper is crazy long though, you know that. That’s where the stash houses come in at. You and the other four Heads should be the only ones to know where they are. Since this snake shit happened, I moved out most of the money from the stash on my end. Mrs. Harris crib is my personal stash spot. That’s where most of the dough is now and a few bricks. I got a couple mill’ stashed at an apartment in Rosedale, but I’m leaving it there. Until we find out who’s behind the bullshit we keeping this between us, a’ight?”
“Whoa! A couple mill’? What? You mean like two million dollars?” Koran asked stunned.
“Nah. That’s nothing’ but sneaker money.”
Koran shook his head. “Hold up Jah. You fucked me up with that. If two mill’ is sneaker money, how much dough is stashed at Mrs. Harris Crib?”
“Sixty million. I’m slowly washing it through Joe’s, but it’s gonna take a minute. I been meaning to spread it out to some new stashes, but I been so busy with this other shit. But check it, you should collect at least five mill’ a week. The money comes up the same way the drugs are passed down, so when it reaches you everybody should have their cut. It’s a lot more shit I got to put you up on, but I’ll wait until you get back.”
“Them B.M.F. niggas ain’t got shit on us!”
“They had a good operation poppin’ off. You see what took them down, right?”
“Yeah. They were too damn flashy.”
“Yep, so keep that in mind and don’t let this shit go to your head. This move with the prostitution will blow us all the way out the water. I’m talking billions in the next few years, so you gotta keep your head on straight.”
Koran nodded slightly overwhelmed. Fear crept up his spine wondering if he could fill Jahad’s position with all its responsibilities. He was only nineteen on the verge of being one of five people controlling a billion dollar operation. The thought was staggering.
His mind still reeled as Jahad stopped for a light on Story Avenue right across the street from Kana’s Fried Chicken. He glanced out his window at a group of young kids being chased by the old Puerto Rican who ran the bodega when a red and white 1100 Kawaski pulled up beside his window. The rider was dressed in a black and red Averex motorcycle jacket, black leather pants, black Gore-Tex hiking boots, and wearing a black and red helmet. He cut his head towards Koran’s then looked straight ahead. Koran admired the bike wishing he knew how to ride just as an identical motorcycle pulled up beside Jahad’s window. The sight made goose bumps break out on his arms.
“Jah, go!” he screamed, his eyes wide with shock.
At the same time bullets shattered the passenger side window and tore into the door. A split second later his whole right side felt as if it was on fire.
“Koran, get the fuck down!” Jahad yelled, reaching for the Tarus 9mm he kept under his seat.
Outside the two gunmen emptied their clips and reloaded while pedestrians scrambled for cover, some stunned frozen by the sight. Traffic had come to a stop. Hitting the seat lever Koran threw himself back and reached for the 45. Automatic stashed in the middle console panel. Gun in hand, he pointed out the window shooting blindly praying his bullets reached their mark. Jahad, full of rage, sat straight up in his seat exchanging shots with his attacker paying no attention to the slugs that pierced his upper body. He was too outraged at being attacked.
“Jah, go man! Press the fucking gas!” Koran shouted over the roar of gunshots once his gun clicked empty.
Hearing Koran’s plea, Jahad pressed the gas pedal down to the floor. The Mercedes shot forward with a burst of speed as bullets shattered the rear window. The car traveled about 100 feet, then came to a jolting halt when it crashed into a car double parked in front of the Chinese restaurant. Koran slammed into the dashboard air bag the same time Jahad barrelled into the steering wheel air bag before they both fell back into their seats.
“Somebody sat our asses up!” Jahad barked. Blood soaked the front of his white shirt, but he was more angry than hurt. “Koran! Koran! You a’ight?”
Dazed, Koran weakly lifted his head. “Yeah, I think so. I’m hit, though.” He turned his head to Jahad’s direction and his pain immediately went away seeing Jahad’s bloody chest. “Oh shit, Jah! I gotta get you to a hospital!” He quickly grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911 unaware the police and ambulances were already on the way. Leaning over, he tried his best to cover Jahad’s wounds as blood poured through his fingers. “Hold on Jah, everything’s gonna be a’ight.”
“I…don't know Koran.” Jahad’s voice grew weak as he spoke. “Those…those bastards got me good. Listen, don’t …don’t trust no…nobody we…we fuck with except…except Sha’. Somebody close to…to us did this shit. Let…Let Sha’…”
“Shhh! Save your strength,” Koran hissed, his vision blurry. In the distance he could hear sirens approaching and prayed they would get there before it was too late. “I know exactly what you trying to say and believe me, I’ma use everything you taught me to get this shit straight. That’s my word! Just hold on ‘cause if you die I swear to Allah, I’ma die right here with you. You see this?” Koran held up his gun so Jahad could see it. “I’ll put this muthafucka in my mouth and chew on as many bullets as I can if you leave me nigga. I swear I will!”
Tears gleamed in Jahad’s eyes as he held Koran’s stare.
“You hear me nigga!?” Koran cried, putting the barrel in his mouth.
“I…I won’t… die Koran so…so stop talking…fucking crazy.”
Koran removed the gun, then let out a sigh of relief. Jahad had never let him down before, so he knew he wouldn’t now. As the sirens drew closer he looked in the rearview mirror and saw two ambulances followed by three police cars racing up Story Avenue. His thoughts automatically went to their guns. He had to get rid of them or they both would be hit with weapon charges.
“A yo Jah, I gotta get rid of these guns before the Jakes get here. You gonna be a’ight. The ambulance is only two blocks away. I love you nigga!” he said, grabbing Jahad’s gun from the floor board.
Jahad nodded, giving him his signature crooked grin.
As Koran exited the car clutching his right side a large crowd had gathered on both sides of the street, but no one made a move to help him. Typical New Yorkers. Half stumbling, half jogging, the crowds parted for him like the Red Sea while he made his way up the avenue glancing over his shoulder every few seconds to see if the police were behind him. Luckily Monow projects were only a half block or he may not have made it being he was losing blood at a rapid pace. By the time he made it to his building he was out of breath on the brink of passing out. Too tired to go any further, he leaned against the iron rail leading up to his building gasping lungs full of air.
“Koran! Koran, they hit you?” Tom-Tom a crackhead who lived in his building asked as he approached with a bottle of Wild Iris Rose wine in his hand. He wore a pair of dirty Pelle Pelle Jeans, a dingy brown sweatshirt and a pair of old construction Timberlands. On his head was a crinkled New York Knicks hat two sizes too big for his small head.
Koran raised his head weakly. “Tom-Tom?”
“Damn man! What the hell happened to you?”
“Get me upstairs, Tom-Tom. I’ma look out for you.”
Tom-Tom took a swig o
f his wine and sat his bottle down. “I gotcha’ man, but you bleeding like a muthafucka. You need to get to a hospital.”
“Just get me upstairs man.” Koran rested his head on Tom-Tom’s smelly sweater while he led him towards the glass door. Once they made it upstairs, Tom-Tom helped him off the elevator. Koran reached in his pocket and pulled out a wad of money placing it in Tom-Tom’s hand. “Good looking Tom-Tom. Go cop…a bag or something and smoke ‘till you can’t smoke no more,” he said, stumbling off leaving Tom-Tom staring down hungrily at the money.
When he opened his apartment door, he would have fallen over if the wall hadn’t of caught him. Blood ran freely from his right sleeve creating a puddle at his feet. A few seconds later Jamel came dashing down the hallway. “Ka-wan, we go see Gan Ma…” Suddenly, Jamel paused catching sight of the blood. “Sin! Sin! Ka-wan bleed! Ka-wan bleed. Sin!” he yelled, racing back to towards the living room. He returned seconds later pulling Serenity and Dej’a by the hand.
“OH MY GOD!” Serenity screamed, rushing toward him. “What happened!”
Koran looked up breathing hard. “Get…get these guns off me, and…and find out where…where they took…Jah,” he managed to say before everything went black.
Chapter Seventeen
A few hours after the assault, the Operator sat in the living room of his two story five bedroom brick house, naked on the couch. His head was thrown back into the cushion and his hands were gripping the armrest as a young, beautiful mixed black and Asian woman gave C.P.R. to his dick using a technique he figured she learned from her Asian ancestors. To take his mind off the tingling feeling that crept from his toes up towards his groin, he forced his thoughts on what lay ahead while she slurped and sucked him like a vacuum.
On the way from Derrick’s funeral the Operator had called Hector to make sure his people were in place. Now Jahad and Koran were out the way, or so he thought. This cleared the slate as far as his revenge went. Now it was time to start phase two of his plan. The other Heads. One by one they had to die, but in a way not to draw attention to his purpose which was total control of the M.G.’s. It would have to wait until the prostitution move was secure.
Next came the Sicilian lawyer. The Operator was well aware that Valentino played a major role within the organization. Still, he didn’t feel comfortable with everything he knew about them. It would be a challenge, but one he was determined to accomplish. He was in the process of working out the beginning details when his phone rung.
“Yeah, who this?” he answered as the young woman gently took his balls in her mouth causing his toes to curl.
“It’s Lord. A yo, Jah and Koran got hit up, Son!” his voice was strained with anger. “I just got the call from Joey.”
“Word! They dead!?” The Operator feigned concern as a slow smile came over his face.
“Nah, but from what Joey told me they got hit pretty bad. I’m on my way to Einstein General now. The other Heads are already on the way, so get your ass in gear!”
The smile vanished from the Operator’s face. “I’ll be there. Who did it?”
“Damn if I know, but when I find out, I’m gonna torture the muthafucka real fucking slow. One!”
As soon as Lord hung up, the Operator slung his phone at the wall. “Goddammit! That Puerto Rican bastard can’t do shit right!” he fumed, pushing the woman away from him. “Get your shit and get the fuck out!”
“I don’t…”
The Operator jumped up, snatched up her clothes, then grabbed her arm and dragged her to the front door. “I don’t like repeating myself,” he said, pushing her out the door, tossing her clothes behind her.
He returned to the living room with the intent of calling Hector just so he could curse him out. How in the hell could he fuck up something so simple. He thought Hector would be the perfect pawn to kill Jahad without drawing attention to the game he set forth. Now it was evident that Hector didn’t have what it took to accomplish the mission. A brilliant idea interrupted the Operator’s thoughts. An idea that made him smile from ear to ear and would add a little more spice to his game. Instead of going against the grain, why not flow with it and use Hector’s mistake to his advantage. It would definitely be interesting.
Chapter Eighteen
The sound of incoherent voices seeming miles away pulled Koran from his coma induced sleep. For a while he faded in and out of consciousness until the voices became clearer. A voice from his earliest memory as a child caught his attention. His eyes fluttered open to a bright light.
For a moment he thought he was dead, but he wasn’t. Once his eye adjusted to the light, he took in his surroundings. He lay in a small bed, a white sheet pulled around his chest. To his left a hospital monitor set with small clear tubes attached running to his right forearm and one going up his nose. Turning his head slowly towards the sound of voices, he saw his mother sitting beside his bed talking quietly to his sister who sat at the small round table near the bathroom.
“Ma,” he called out in a hoarse voice. His mouth felt drier than autumn leaves.
Startled, Michelle shot from her chair. “My baby! Thank you, God!” she cried out bending to kiss him forehead Tears of joy ran from her eyes dropping onto his face as she rambled on and on.
“Where’s…where’s Jah, Ma?”
Michelle was too emotional to speak so Latrice answered. “He’s upstairs in intensive care. The doctor said he has a 50/50 chance, but you know Jah. He always fought against the odds,” she said, giving him a weak smile.
“He gonna make it,” Koran replied confidently. “Where am I?”
“Einstein General. You been in a coma close to three weeks.”
“Three weeks!” He tried to sit up and a sharp pain ran through his side. That’s when he noticed the condition he was in. His right arm was in a cask, his ribs heavily taped. “I gotta get out of here. C’mon, help me up.”
“Take it easy, Koran!” Michelle said sternly easing him back down. “You aren’t going anywhere. Have you lost your mind? You been in a coma boy!”
Being in a coma was the last thing on Korans mind. Someone had tried to kill them and now he was laid up in the hospital, a sitting duck without a gun. Jahad was in an even worse predicament and the hospital was the last place he needed to be. There was no way he could explain this to his mother though.
“Sin? Where’s Sin?”
“She’s in the waiting room with Jamel, Dej’a, and John-John. Tony is upstairs with Jah. Why you ain’t tell us you had a son?”
Michelle gave him a sharp look. “Yes explain that.”
Koran blew out a breath which hurt more than trying to move. “Jamel ain’t my son, Ma. His parents died so I took him in.”
“Nonsense!” Michelle rolled her eyes. “I know my grand babies when I see them. That boy and John can pass for twins.”
John was Koran’s four year old nephew. Tony and Latrice’s son named after Korans father. “I’m telling you Ma, Jamel ain’t…”
Serenity walked in carrying Jamel with Dej’a and John at her side at that moment. A smile lit up Koran’s face as she and Dej’a rushed him while Jamel squealed his name.
“You… You’re okay!” Dej’a cried, taking hold of his hand.
“Yeah, I’m good Dej’a so stop crying.”
“I…I thought..” She began to sob pitifully burying her face into the side of the bed. Koran wrapped his good arm around her. “It’s okay Dej’a, it’s okay.”
“Ka-wan home!” Jamel yelled squirming in Serenity’s arms. “What up lil’ dude. You been good?”
Jamel nodded. “Kay good boy. Sin cry so Kay be good. Ka-Wan you come home?”
Koran held back tears seeing the sad look on Jamel’s face. “Yeah, Kay. I’m coming home real soon so we can go get some ice cream, a’ight?”
“A’wight Kawan. I wuv you.”
“I love you too, Kay. Word up! I love all of you.” Koran looked up into Serenity’s ocean green eyes and felt an intense wave of love.
/> “Thank you, Sin. For everything.”
Serenity shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me. I would gladly switch places with you right now. All I ask is that you hurry and get well.” She leaned over and kissed his dry lips, then whispered... “So we can kill whoever did this to you!”
The intensity in her voice sent chills up his spine and at that moment he had no doubts that she was his soulmate. Now he understood completely Jahad’s warning of falling in love. If he had to choose between Serenity and the M.G.’s, she would be his choice without any hesitation.
“I wanna thank you anyway.” He motioned for her to come closer. “Get me outta here, Sin,” he said in a low voice so Michelle couldn’t hear him.
“I can’t baby. You need to heal first.”
“You can’t what?” Michelle asked, frowning. “I know you not trying to get her to sneak you out of here Koran! She will do no such thing!”
“Ma, you don’t understand.”
“Why don’t you explain it to me then? Better yet, explain to me why we should take you outta here when you have cracked ribs and a broken arm. If Serenity had of been one minute late getting you here we wouldn’t be having this conversation because you would have bled to death. Do you understand that!?”
“Calm down, Ma. I’m a’ight now.”
“You are not alright! You almost died!” she shouted with tears streaming over her cheeks as the doctor entered.
To Koran’s surprise, he was black, literally. His skin was the color of charcoal. He wore a white doctor's coat over a pair of brown slacks and a pair of brown wingtip shoes on his huge feet. His features were blunt. Thick purple lips, a broad nose and large brown eyes behind a pair of specs. When he smiled his large horse teeth looked like polish ivory.
