Black Scarface 2

by Jimmy Dasaint

  "Thanks Amber. Come on Miss Pam, let's go get ready," Tasha said, then she and Pamela grabbed their briefcases and rushed out the office.

  When Pamela and Tasha left Amber closed the office door behind them, then she sat down in a empty seat beside Passion.

  Amber 'White Chocolate' Kennedy, looked into her best friend's worried eyes and said, "Passion don't worry. Reese will be all right. He just needs a little time and space."

  As her eyes began to water, Passion looked at Amber and said, "I hope so, but, something just don't feel right!"

  On the corner of 9th and Walnut Street...

  A tinted black Ford Taurus was parked behind a brand new grey colored Yukon Danali truck. Agent McDonald and Powaski sat up front while Detective Ron Perry sat on the back seat.

  Ron Perry passed Agent McDonald a thick brown folder and said, "That's all the information that I've gathered on Face and Reese in the last six years. The majority of the stuff is miscellaneous; school records, car payments and so on. But there's a few photos. Like I said, most of the information I've gathered over the years is all miscellaneous. That's why I've never been able to build a strong enough case against them. Their circle has been too strong to crack, and the few witnesses we did have all ended up dead including the D.A. that got killed a few years back. The same one that was assigned to their case by the State."

  "Don't worry Ron, we'll go through everything you got here and see what we can use. Right now we don't have anything solid or strong enough to bring them down. But, that won't last long! When the government wants somebody, we'll do everything in our power to get'em!" Agent Powaski added with a smile.

  "Alright, I'll call you if I find out anything new," Ron Perry said. He shook both men's hands and got out of the car. They watched as Ron Perry walked over to his Denali truck and climbed inside. When he pulled off down the street, they drove off right behind him.

  West Philadelphia...

  Reese slowly pulled his truck up at the red light and stopped. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the other hand tightly clutched the half empty bottle of Hennesy. In a drunken state he sat back crying and listening to his favorite hard core street rapper, 50 Cent. Reese was filled with anguish and his soul cried out to his murdered grandmother and younger brother. Suddenly, the red light switched colors and Reese pressed hard on the gas pedal.

  The black Escalade truck sped off down the street. "Momma!" Reese cried out. "Momma! Momma!" he shouted as 50 Cent's hardcore lyrics and pulsating beats banged out of the truck's 18 inch woofers. As the large black truck sped recklessly down the street, Reese never noticed the young teenage girl walking across the street. When he finally looked up, it was too late.

  BOOMPPP!!!

  The truck smashed right into the girl's small frame. Her body flew about twenty feet into the air and landed on top of a parked car. Reese tried his best to control his vehicle, but the truck ended up crashing head on into a wooden street light pole. The hard impact propelled Reese and sent him flying straight through the shattered front glass window, knocking him totally unconscious.

  As for the young fourteen year old girl, on her way home from school…she was less fortunate. With a cracked skull and broken neck, she never had a chance.

  One hour later, Downtown Philadelphia...

  Inside his lawyer's lush office, Face sat across from his desk reviewing the financial records of his off shore accounts in the Cayman Islands, and the Atlantic International Bank in Belize. His high powered lawyer and financial advisor, Peter J. Greenberg, smiled proudly as he sat behind his desk with his arms folded across his chest.

  Peter came highly recommended by Face’s good friend Veronica, and for three years he had been Face's personal lawyer and financial advisor/consultant. Together they were creating a financial empire.

  Peter was a financial whiz; a former Wall Street investor who had worked for Merrill Lynch, and was once head of the investment banking division.

  "How's it look," Peter asked.

  "As good as always," Face replied, then passed the papers back to Peter.

  "You're making twenty one percent on your money…every year!

  One hell of a return," Peter stated. "The great thing about it Face, is that it is completely untouchable and untraceable, just like I promised you," he added.

  "Peter, you're the man!" Face said excitedly.

  “No Face, you’re the man. That was a very smart idea, never putting anything in your name. And to let your wife purchase all of your personal assets under the company name. The less of a paper trail, the better," Peter said, in a stern tone.

  "At the rate you're going, you'll be a billionaire before you know it," he added.

  Feeling his cell phone vibration on his hip, Face reached down and grabbed it. He looked at the caller ID and quickly answered, "What's up, Mom?"

  It’s Reese, Face. Reese is in the hospital. He just had a bad car accident!" Pamela said excitedly.

  "What? Is he okay?" Face asked apprehensively.

  "I think so. But, he's pretty banged up. He was drunk when it happened."

  "Where is he? “ Face asked.

  "He's at Presbyterian Hospital."

  "I'm on my way!" Face told her.

  "Baby, there's more," Pamela said.

  "What else is it?"

  After a long sigh, Pamela said, "Reese hit a fourteen year old girl and she died at the scene."

  "I'm on my way!" Face said, closing the cell phone and rushing out of Peter's office.

  CHAPTER 83

  Late May, three weeks later...

  After being released from the hospital with minor head injuries, bruised ribs and a broken collar bone, Reese was immediately taken into police custody and charged with vehicular homicide in the death of the 14 year old girl.

  Face hired a high powered attorney named, James Black, to represent him at the upcoming trial. Using his powerful connections, James Black was able to get the vehicular homicide dropped to a much lesser offense, vehicular manslaughter. But, even with the success of the first charge being dropped to a lesser charge, Reese would still have to serve some time away in state prison and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

  Inside the county jail, Face, Reese and his attorney James Black, sat on a bench inside a half crowded visiting room.

  "So, how much time is they talking about?" Reese asked his lawyer.

  After a sigh, James said, "At least six years. If all goes well, you could be out in four."

  "Six fucking years!" Reese protested angrily. "My girl is about to have our first child! When I get out my baby won't even know me!" he added, looking to Face for help and understanding.

  "Reese, because of the negative press you got and all the heat from the M.A.D.D. organization, that's the best I could do. Remember, you were intoxicated and you took a young girl's life. Whether it was accidental or not, the public doesn't care. It could be a whole lot worse," James said."You're getting a break and everyone knows it," he added.

  Face looked at Reese and just shook his head. Since the accident, he had been more disappointed in Reese, and now with his callus reaction to the young girl's death, he was more disappointed than ever.

  "Face, I'm sorry man," Reese said apologetically. "It was all my fault and I deserve everything that happening to me. Fuck!" he added, accepting the realization of what awaited him.

  Face reached over and placed his hand on Reese's shoulder and squeezed it tightly, reassuringly, then said, "I'm very disappointed in you, Reese, but I'll get over it. You're my

  brother and partner."

  Reese's eyes watered as they gave each other a brotherly hug. "Did you take care of that for me?" Reese asked.

  "Yeah, I had Tasha write out a check for a million dollars and deliver it to the family with your deepest apologies for their loss and your request for their forgiveness."

  "Thanks Face, I really appreciate that," Reese said honestly, then looked straight into Face's eyes and said, "So, will you be
able to handle things without me for a little while?"

  "I'll manage, but it won't be the same. I'll have to fight this war with my left hand," he frowned.

  "Why's that?" Reese asked with a look of confusion. "Because, my right hand is going off to prison," he answered.

  Reese watched as Face and James Black stood up from their seats. Even though he was handcuffed to the edge of the table, Reese stood also. His fluorescent orange jumpsuit seemed to

  glow as more of it was exposed when he stood.

  "I have an early morning meeting with the Prosecutor. I'll inform him that we're accepting his offer," James told Reese.

  "I'll see you soon," he added, as he shook their hands, then turned, walked through the visiting room and disappeared through a door at the other end of the hall.

  Face and Reese gave each other another long hug, "Just go do your time and hurry back home. All your money will be safely put away. And don't worry about Passion and your baby.

  They won't need or want for anything, I promise… nor will you while you're away."

  "Thanks Face," Reese said softly.

  After visiting hours were over, Reese and a long line of other inmates were escorted back to their cells.

  When Face got into his Mercedes he sat there for a few moments staring straight ahead into the distance. His mind was clouded and raced with thoughts as he contemplated the future without Reese. As tears fell down his cheeks he started the car and slowly drove off.

  Parked a few cars away, four cold calculating eyes watched from the tinted windows of a Ford Taurus as Face drove away. "It ain't what we wanted, but I'll take it," Agent McDonald stated.

  "Still, that's one down and one more to go," Agent Powaski said with a laugh. "Now, we can put all of our efforts, time and resources into bringing Face down!" he gleefully added as they pulled out of the parking spot and headed downtown to their office on 6th street.

  Two days later, East Hampton, Long Island, New York...

  After Face’s meeting with Quincy and all of his top street lieutenants he decided to leave town and go clear his head. A lot was on his mind and Reese's current imprisonment

  only made matters worse.

  Inside his elegant Hampton estate, Face sat on the sofa watching CNN. Laying beside him were the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal that he just finished reading. The tranquility of the mansion home gave Face the solitude that he needed to put his many thoughts together. He sat back focused on the TV as the house servants walked about doing their jobs. They all knew not to disturb him and were trying their best to comply with his orders and wishes. Nonetheless, everyone understood that the servants had jobs to do, so they worked around him.

  He grabbed the remote control to turn the TV off but, just before he pressed the off button a beautiful black face appeared in the top right corner of the screen. He quickly turned the volume up and got more relaxed on the sofa as he listened intently. A curious expression appeared on his face as he sat back watched and listened in disbelief.

  "Earlier today, in the Manhattan Federal Courthouse, alleged 'Mob Boss', Vincent Maletto was acquitted of all charges," the news anchor read from the teleprompter with no emotion. "He's the first 'Mob Boss' in the past twenty years to get indicted twice by a Federal Grand Jury on racketeering charges and was acquitted both times. In both trials, Mr. Maletto was represented by Defense Attorney, Gloria Jones Henderson, wife of State Representative Robert L. Henderson..."

  "Gloria?" Face whispered, turning the volume back down and then turning the set off. Then he laid his head back on the sofa and repeatedly whispered her name, remembering the times they had shared. Truthfully, he hadn't thought of her for several years. She had promised that one day she would become the top criminal defense attorney in the nation, and she had done it. Not only had she made a name for herself as a successful advocate, but she had also gotten married. Face was proud of her. As he laid back, he closed his eyes and a big smile was plastered across his face.

  September 5, 2006...

  Passion had given birth to a seven pound eight ounce baby girl. She and Reese named her Amiaya 'Lilly' Daniels. A few weeks later, Passion and Reese got married inside the prison’s chapel at S.C.I. Graterford, in upstate Pennsylvania. Reese's designated prison term was for at least the next four years. Passion was determined to stick by her husband's side through thick and thin and so far, she had yet to miss a single visit.

  Face had also visited Reese a few times, keeping him up to date with everything that was going on with the drug business. He also made sure Reese's commissary account stayed full and

  that his mind stayed sharp and focused with some of the self-help books he sent him.

  As far as trouble from other inmates at the prison, there was nothing to worry about. Before Reese went to the Graterford compound, Face contacted his friends on the inside and told them to take good care of Reese and make sure his time at the prison went smooth and problem free.

  In the meantime, Face and the Gomez brothers were moving tons of cocaine and heroin throughout the country. They had added more major cities to their list; New Orleans, Cincinnati, Ohio and Richmond, Virginia.

  For a three week long period, Face had made a million and a half dollars a day. Money was pouring in by the boatloads. Now Face had to meet with his attorney and financial advisor, Peter J. Greenberg, twice a week to keep it all moving and inaccessible.

  CHAPTER 84

  Washington, D.C., April 15, seven months later...

  Inside the elegant five-star French restaurant, C.W. Watson and Tom Klein, his best friend for more than forty years, watched their wives as they excused themselves and went to the Ladies room. Tom, a self-made millionaire and businessman from Scranton, Pennsylvania was also the father of Charles Klein, the current Mayor of Philadelphia. They proudly watched the women walk away, then Tom turned his attention to C.W. and said, "So, C.W., you've been all over the news lately. How's everything going?" He sipped his expensive French Bordeaux and waited for an answer.

  "Everything is going well since I was appointed to head of the Domestic Anti-Drug Commission. There have been ten major drug busts from all around the country. In fact there is a

  major undercover 'sting' operation that's going down in the next few days," C.W. proudly replied. "A big one," he added with emphasis.

  "So, is it true…this job is a stepping stone to the Oval Office?" Tom asked, sipping his wine and knowing his friend wouldn't lie to him.

  "I believe so. I have a lot of powerful supporters backing me; including the current President," C.W. said with a sly grin.

  "Then you should be a shoo in?" Tom stated, convinced.

  "We'll see," C.W. replied, as he reached for his wine flute. Like the connoisseur he was, he gently swiveled the wine in its glass and sniffed it, before tasting and savoring the robust flavors of the five hundred dollar bottle of wine.

  After which, C.W. looked at Tom and asked, "so, how's my Godson doing in his new job?"

  I talked with Charles yesterday. He says he loves being the Mayor in Philly."

  "Good, I'm proud of him. Think we can ever persuade Charles to go hunting with us again?" C.W asked with a knowing grin.

  Tom laughed and said, "I doubt it, not after what happened the last time. He hasn't been hunting since."

  "Do you think Charles got over it? It's been over thirty years. "

  "He was a kid back then and used to have nightmares about it. But, as he got older, the nightmares began to fade. I'm sure he's fine now," Tom replied reassuringly.

  When their wives returned to the table, C.W. and Tom quickly changed the subject.

  Belmopan. Belize...

  The Atlantic International Bank had assets worth over 3.8 billion dollars. Anyone that wanted to be completely discrete with their money opened accounts there. It was one of the last tax shelters that hadn't opened their books to the United States government. So many wealthy people took advantage of the opportunity and used the bank to hide t
heir money. It didn't matter what your profession was-if you had the five million dollar minimum, you could open account and your money would be deposited.

  Face and his lawyer Peter J. Greenberg walked out of the bank and got inside a tinted black limousine. Face had just deposited another twenty million dollars into his account.

  The limo slowly pulled off.

  "What do you plan to do with all that money?" Peter asked.

  "Use it to make more. The more money I have, the more powerful I become.," Face replied seriously. "One day I would like to build a legacy like the Kennedys or the Rockafellers or Gates'," he added.

  Peter looked at his young friend and smiled. "At the rate you're going, that won't be hard at all," he said.

  Forty minutes later the limousine pulled into a hangar at the Belize International Airport. Waiting for them inside, was the Gomez brother's 5.7 million dollar Beechcraft Permere

  1 jet. Face and Peter got out of the limousine, walked over and boarded the six-seater jet.

  "I have a meeting at three o'clock in my office. Do you think we'll be back in Philly in time?"

  Face looked down at his Patek Philippe watch and smiled as he looked at Peter and said, "You'll be there an hour before your meeting starts."

  Two days later, Laredo, Texas...

  Roberto Chevez stood, watching as seven of his Mexican workers unloaded the large eighteen wheeler truck. The cargo was Columbia's finest export; kilos of pure cocaine. Over five tons of it were stacked neatly inside.

  Roberto had just gotten off the phone with Rico Gomez and told him know that all four shipments had made it from across the Mexican border. Also inside the trailer was five hundred kilos of Afghani born heroin, all safely packaged and ready to flood the streets of urban America.