Wifey, Part 2

by Erica Hilton

  Jasmine had heard of snitches working with the feds and the police in order to work out plea deals and avoid jail time, but she never knew that snitches got paid by the feds.

  “So you said I would be a paid source?”

  “Absolutely,” Agent Battle said.

  “As a paid source, I wouldn’t have to worry about any criminal indictments coming my way?”

  Agent Battle nodded. “That’s correct, but, and I stress the word but, let me be clear. You wouldn’t have to worry about any criminal indictments coming your way from any of your involvement in any past criminal activities. But if we agree on things and you become a source, that doesn’t give you a license to commit crimes. It’s like you help us, and we can wipe your past slate clean, but your future slate is contingent on you doing what’s right and abiding by the law.”

  Agent Battle had to give that spiel, though she and Agent Gosling both knew that the feds and most law enforcement agencies often turned a blind eye to the continued criminal activities of their informants. But there was no way she could just outright say that to Jasmine.

  Jasmine slowly nodded, deep in thought as she weighed her options. “Okay, so what kind of money are we talking about?”

  “Well, it depends. It’s not as if you show up every week and you get a paycheck. It’s usually not structured that way. It’s more on a per-assignment basis. For example, let’s say the information that you source to us leads to us confiscating two kilos of cocaine. Something like that might get you a five-thousand-dollar payment. Or let’s say your information leads to us confiscating a million dollars in cash. That might get you a thirty-thousand-dollar payment. Or if we are targeting a specific individual, the payment would depend on the individual. If you got us a high-level drug distributor, that could generate you twenty thousand dollars. And obviously a lower-level drug distributor would get you less.”

  Jasmine was starting to like the sound of the numbers she was hearing. She could easily see herself making a hundred grand a year for basically maintaining her current lifestyle.

  Agent Battle went on to explain, “And, just so we’re clear, the payments wouldn’t always be so extravagant. We might give you a hundred dollars to make a hundred-dollar marijuana purchase, and for something like that, you would be paid dollar for dollar and would earn a hundred dollars for that purchase.”

  Jasmine didn’t show it, but she was ready to leap out of her bed and do back flips. Jasmine never knew that being a snitch could be so lucrative. She was thinking how she could make a hundred-dollar weed purchase all day every day.

  “Question,” Jasmine said.

  “You got questions, we got answers,” Agent Gosling replied with a smile. He and Agent Battle both knew that they had Jasmine where they wanted her.

  “This is just hypothetical, so don’t read more into it than necessary.”

  Both agents nodded.

  “So let’s say I was going to go work for BMW and they were going to pay me fifty thousand a year, but then I found out, for the same job, I could make seventy thousand a year working for Mercedes Benz, wouldn’t I be kind of stupid to not go and work for the company that’s paying me more money?”

  Agent Battle was about to speak, but Jasmine cut her off.

  “Okay, okay, what I’m saying is, can other agencies beat the FBI’s pay rate for sources. Like, if I could make more with the NYPD or with the DEA, then why wouldn’t I just fuck with them? I mean, no offense or anything, I’m just asking.”

  “Actually, that’s a very good question,” Agent Battle responded. “All I can say is, there are no written rules about it. But all the agencies have unwritten rules where we all respect each other’s sources, and we don’t make it where sources are only going to the highest bidder.”

  “But would I be wrong or get in trouble if I became a source for other law enforcement agencies? I just want to know up front.”

  “No, you wouldn’t be doing anything wrong per se,” Agent Gosling explained. “And there have been times where sources were being handled by different agencies at the same time.”

  “Just wanted to be clear,” Jasmine said with a slight smile that was almost undetectable, since she was trying so hard to suppress it. “Oh, one last thing. I mean, I’m not saying that I will definitely commit and do this whole snitch thing—”

  Agent Battle interrupted her. “Jasmine, you would be a source, not a snitch. I don’t know any other way to convince you of that.”

  “Source, snitch, confidential informant, yada yada yada—we’re talking about the same thing. Okay, but let’s say that I did commit to it. Is there any way I could get an apartment or a house out of this? I’m not talking about something that I would own or anything like that. I’m just saying something furnished where I could move into and not have to worry about paying rent or anything. Like, could y’all cover the rent for me?” Jasmine figured she might as well milk it for all it was worth.

  Agent Battle and Agent Gosling both knew that the answer to Jasmine’s question was yes, but they didn’t want to give her the impression that they were desperate. See, the FBI had a lot of leeway with their confidential informants. They knew that the money that they paid them wasn’t coming from taxpayer dollars, so they could be flexible. All of the money paid to confidential informants was funded from money that had been confiscated from past drug busts and asset seizures. So Agent Gosling knew she would be able to find a house or an apartment that a government agency owned and let Jasmine use it if she wanted to.

  The IRS, for example, had condos in Manhattan that they had seized from someone who had been arrested for tax evasion. It wouldn’t be anything other than the FBI filling out paperwork and sending it to the IRS for their approval, and once approved, Jasmine would be able to access the apartment. And, again, that would be at no cost to the taxpaying citizens of the country.

  “Well, that’s something we could discuss.” Agent Battle began to gather her things, preparing to leave.

  Jasmine wondered if she had pushed too far.

  “I’ll leave you with another card and give you some more time to consider everything we spoke about. I don’t have more than thirty-six hours for you to think about this, and I would hate to have my agents come visit you with an arrest warrant because, if they do, it would be too late, and the offer we just spoke about would forever be off the table.”

  Jasmine nodded.

  Agent Gosling reached out his hand, and Jasmine shook it with her good hand, and then she reached for the remote control and turned the TV back on to ESPN.

  Just as the two agents reached the door to exit Jasmine’s room, she said, “You’ll hear from me before I hear from you.”

  Agent Battle paused, looked at Jasmine, and smiled.

  When the door closed behind her, Jasmine buzzed the nurses’ station and asked them to bring her another painkiller. Within minutes, she popped the painkiller into her mouth, wondering when, if ever, she was going to hear from her man.

  But her romantic thoughts about Nico were quickly replaced by thoughts of just how she was going to play both sides of the fence.

  Twelve

  Nico and BJ showed up together at the hospital to visit Jasmine, but when they got there, they were told that she had checked out about two hours earlier.

  “Do you know who she was with when she left?” Nico asked the petite older white nurse with glasses and gray hair. She looked like she was definitely eligible for Social Security retirement benefits.

  “Oh, sonny, I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to give you that kind of information,” she replied.

  “No, it’s all good. See, I live with the patient. I could give you my address,” Nico said, trying to convince the lady to not be so tight.

  The nurse looked at Nico and sighed. “Okay, let me see some ID, and I’ll see what I can do for you.�
�

  Nico rarely walked with ID and knew he didn’t have any on him at the time, but he made like he was checking for his driver’s license anyway.

  “Without any ID, I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you any information. Privacy policies, you know.”

  BJ went into his pocket. He always carried a wad of hundreds in his right pocket and smaller bills in his left pocket. He took hold of a crisp one hundred-dollar bill, folded it up, and discreetly slid it to her.

  The nurse looked shocked when she saw that it was a hundred-dollar bill, but she played it off well. “What did you say your address was again?”

  Nico smiled and gave her his address, and the old nurse started spilling everything, telling him that Jasmine’s parents had come to pick her up.

  “And you said they left about an hour ago?”

  The nurse nodded, and then she motioned for Nico to come closer.

  “You two are kind of cute to be cops—Are you married?”

  Nico and BJ smiled.

  “Nah. We good, ma.”

  “I have a granddaughter that would be perfect for either one of you. She works in Manhattan. She has a real good corporate job. And I am dying for her to meet somebody nice.”

  “That’s all right, ma, we good, but thanks for the compliment. And good looking out with that info. That’s what’s up,” Nico replied.

  And then he and BJ were off to Jasmine’s parents’ house in Southside Jamaica, Queens. Nico wanted to call Jasmine instead of seeing her, but he’d held back from doing so because he was certain that her phone was tapped.

  It took them about thirty minutes to drive from the hospital in Manhasset, Long Island to South Side. BJ did all the driving, while Nico reclined in the front passenger seat of the all-white 760 BMW.

  As soon as BJ pulled up to Jasmine’s house, they saw Jasmine and her mother and father out front talking to one of their neighbors. Nico could sense that there was going to be some kind of bullshit, so instead of getting out of the car, he had BJ pull to the curb and roll down the driver’s side window, since the driver’s side was closer to where Jasmine was standing.

  ***

  “Who the hell is that?” Jasmine’s father walked toward the car.

  Jasmine, her hand bandaged and gauze on her neck, instantly recognized who it was, and a smile came to her face. She also walked toward the car.

  “Jasmine, go in the house!” her father yelled, trying to restrain her from getting any closer to Nico. “I told you I don’t want this nigga coming to my house.”

  Jasmine broke free of her father’s grip and made it to BJ’s car, but her father wouldn’t let up.

  “Listen, I don’t want any drug dealers coming to my house. I don’t want any drug dealers interacting with my daughter,” Jasmine’s dad said, bending over and looking into the BMW.

  Jasmine said to her mom, “Ma, would you control him please and tell him to stop!”

  “We just came to check on you,” Nico said to Jasmine after he got out of the car. He chose to ignore Jasmine’s father, not wanting to escalate the situation.

  Jasmine’s mom grabbed her husband by the arm and tried to persuade him to give them a minute by themselves.

  “That nigga almost got my daughter killed, and I’m supposed to be okay with him ringing my bell?”

  “Sir, with all respect, I didn’t ring your bell. And I’m not here to cause no problems. I’m just checking on Jasmine and making sure she’s all right, and then I’m leaving. Is that cool?”

  Jasmine’s father could see the distressed look on Jasmine’s face. “Get me from around this nigga before I lose it,” he said, retreating to his front door and going inside the house.

  “I’m so sorry about all of that,” Jasmine said to Nico.

  “It’s all good.” Nico hugged Jasmine and gave her a kiss on the lips.

  The hug and the kiss sent shivers down Jasmine’s spine, causing an instant smile to appear on her face.

  Nico told her, “Get in the car for a minute.”

  Jasmine got in the backseat, and Nico got in the front seat.

  “Hey, BJ.”

  BJ turned his head to the back seat and acknowledged Jasmine as she leaned forward and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

  “You good?” BJ asked.

  Jasmine shook her head. “Y’all don’t even know.’

  Nico asked BJ to pull away from the house. BJ put the car in drive and then headed toward the McDonald’s parking lot on the corner of Sutphin and Linden Boulevards, which wasn’t far from Jasmine’s house.

  “Baby, I’m so happy to see you. I didn’t know what was going on or what to think,” Jasmine said. At that point tears came to her eyes as she relived the night she almost lost her life.

  BJ pulled into a parking spot and brought the car to a stop, and Nico got out of the car and asked Jasmine to walk with him.

  Nico and Jasmine walked about fifteen yards away from BJ’s car and then Nico stopped and hugged Jasmine.

  “Why you tearing up?”

  Jasmine shook her head. “Baby, I was so scared. I’m still scared. Oh my God, you don’t know.” More tears came to her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

  Nico pulled her close to him and held her tight. “I gotchu, baby girl. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

  Jasmine had been longing to see Nico, and he was making her feel safe and protected just the way she knew he would. “I know,” she replied, still crying.

  “You know that, right?”

  She nodded her head up and down.

  “So why you still crying?’

  Jasmine wiped her tears with the hand that wasn’t bandaged.

  “You know them alphabet boys is watching me, so I can’t move as free as I want to or be on the phone and shit, and that’s the only reason I ain’t been around.”

  Jasmine buried her head in Nico’s chest. “I just didn’t know what to think.”

  “I know you didn’t, and that’s why I’m here now.”

  Jasmine felt so good at that point. She wondered if she could still go through with being a snitch for the federal government.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “What’s up?” Nico replied.

  “Did you want me dead?”

  “Jasmine, what the fuck kind of question you asking me?”

  “Baby, I been in the hospital, bandaged up, having surgery and nightmares, and all kinds of thoughts just been running through my mind. When I didn’t hear from you, I didn’t know what to think. And I had never got any answers about why you didn’t come pick me up, so I just didn’t know.” More tears started coming to Jasmine’s eyes.

  Nico was quiet.

  “I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t help but wonder if it was you who had sent Bebo to kill me.”

  All of Nico’s muscles instantly got tense when he heard those words come out of Jasmine’s mouth. See, the streets had been talking and saying that Bebo was the culprit behind the shootings at Nico’s house, but before Nico made a move on Bebo, he wanted to be one hundred percent certain that the streets were right with what they were saying. Jasmine’s words had just confirmed it.

  “I thought you might have wanted me killed because you thought I might say something about the Shabazz thing.”

  Nico couldn’t help but wonder if Jasmine was wearing a wire. He pulled her close to him and held her. “Shhhhhh,” he said into her ear. “You stressing for no reason, baby,” he added, massaging her back as he held her close to him.

  Jasmine had no idea he was secretly checking to see if he felt any wires or a microphone underneath her clothing.

  “Trust me, I’m gonna handle this shit.” Nico kissed her on ear and then released her from his embrace.

  “I know you w
ill.” Jasmine reached for her BlackBerry. “I want you to hear something,” she said. “The cops came to visit me, and I been telling them that I didn’t know who shot me. I mean, even though I know it was Bebo, at the end of the day, I’m not a snitch.”

  Jasmine’s words made Nico feel like he could put his guard down just a bit.

  “Just listen.” Jasmine then pressed play.

  “Get off of me!”

  “Bebo, she ain’t got nothing to do with anything. Let her go!”

  “We can’t find the stash, but look at this shit we found, yo.”

  “What the fuck! You snitchin’? This bitch is a fed?”

  “No. No, she’s—”

  BLAOW!

  “AHHHHH! Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

  “Bitch, I’m asking you one more time—Where the fuck is the stash at?”

  BLAOW! BLAOW!

  “Let’s get the fuck up outta here and find that bitch-ass nigga.”

  “It’s fucked up how that bitch shot Jasmine and then killed herself.”

  Nico didn’t totally understand everything in the recording, but he’d heard enough.

  “That was from the night I got shot. Bebo had kept stressing me to call you, and I kept calling you but you wasn’t picking up. So after the last time I tried to call you, something just clicked in my head and told me to just hit the record button on my phone.”

  “Right, right,” Nico said, his mind in deep thought. “That’s good, that’s good. I’m glad you was smart like that. And you said you didn’t tell five-o about this, right?”

  “No. I wanted you to hear it. I told them I didn’t know who it was that ran up in the house.”

  Nico knew who Narjara was. “That shit is fucked up. What did Bebo mean by what he said at the end of the recording?”