"Goddamnit!" Agent Guthrie barked. "Son-of-a-bitch just locked his brake!”
Sitting beside him, Agent Jackson was cussing after spilling his diet 7-Up down the front of his shirt. Sitting on the back seat, Roberto Chevez was so scared that his complexion was almost pale white. He couldn't even speak when the brown van pulled up and boxed them in on the right side.
"What's going on?" Agent Guthrie said, as a blue van blocked the left side so tight that they couldn't open the doors. As the agents started furiously reaching for their weapons another van hit them from behind. "Call it in! Call it in!" Agent Jackson yelled frantically, and reached for his radio.
Suddenly a tinted black Bonneville pulled up and a man with a ski mask quickly rushed out the car. He climbed on the hood of the Town Car with a pistol in his left hand and a white
index card in his left. Agent Guthrie was trying to use his cell phone because the radio was full of static. His phone wasn't working either.
A frequency jammer in the back of the green van made sure the agents couldn't make any calls.
"Relax," Agent Jackson said, as he gripped his Sig-P228. "The windows are all bullet proof. They can't shoot through them."
"Pinche idiots!" Roberto screamed. "They're here to kill me. That's the man with the black shirt! Face sent him kill to me!"
"They're just trying to scare us. That's all" Agent Guthrie said, trying to calm their witness.
The man on the hood leaned towards the windshield, and tapped on the glass with the tip of his H&K USP .45. When he was sure he had their attention, he placed the file card in front of
them, pressing it against the windshield.
The note read, 'Mr. Chevez, hopefully God will forgive you, because we won’t. By the time you finish reading this note, five pounds of C-4 Semtex will have been affixed to the bottom of this vehicle in the form of a shaped charge. Now would be an appropriate time to pray.'
The man slowly climbed off the hood, got back into his car and closed the door. With a worried look, Agent Guthrie read the note. He turned toward his partner just as the flash went off, instantly flooding the Town Car with hot flames and dark smoke. The armored vehicle proved to be good at keeping bullets on the outside, but not as good with the high-explosives .
The vans dispersed, each going their separate ways, and drove into the darkness of the night while the flames were still scorching Roberto Chevez and the two federal agents to cinders.
Inside the tinted Bonneville, Quincy pulled off his ski mask. Hearing the loud screams of the three dying men was like music to his ears! As he pulled off and drove down the street, he heard the loud explosion behind him and the glimpse of a smile appeared upon his face.
CHAPTER 98
The next day...
The tragic news about the murders of Robert Chevez and the two Federal Agents had spread through the city like a wildfire. From the crime ravaged streets of North, West and South Philly, to the elegant Chestnut Hill section, with its broad tree-lined streets and multi-million dollar homes. Everyone was talking about it, even the national media covered the story. Because of all the excitement surrounding the case, Judge Marino decided to postpone the trial for a week. The case was beginning to take its toll on everyone; from the pawns and knights, to the bishops and the kings who maneuvered behind their walls of secrecy.
Washington, D.C...
"Vincent, what the hell happened?" C.W. fumed into the phone.
"Mr. Wilson I don't know what to say but I can assure you, Sir, that the FBI and the local authorities in Philadelphia are thoroughly investigating the case. Whoever was behind these
murders knew the vehicle and the exact time the witness would be transported from the courthouse. They were waiting for them," Vincent said into his phone. "And now, because of our flaw, a witness and two FBI agents are dead."
C.W. stood from his chair and walked over to the window. It was something he did four or five times a day . He stared out into the calm summer sky as he spoke into his cell phone.
"Vincent, I want you to bring this man down! I want him ruined! You hear me?" C.W. vented.
"Yes, Sir, don't worry. I will! We still have three other key witness that have yet to testify. They're all due to take the stand once the trial resumes."
"You just make sure that the rest of the witnesses are heavily guarded at all times. I don't want what happened yesterday to ever happen again!" C.W. said solemnly, then turned around and walked back to his chair and sat down.
"Don't worry, Sir. It won't! You have my word! And sooner or later we'll find the culprits responsible and they will all be brought to justice!"
After Vincent Bradley closed his cell phone he reached for and picked up the Philadelphia Daily Newspaper that was laying on his desk. The bold, black headline read: FEDERAL WITNESS AND FBI AGENTS BURNED ALIVE INSIDE VEHICLE!
"Face, you're going down, you son-of-a-bitch!" Bradley mumbled, as he quickly dialed another phone number.
Inside the Federal Detention Center, in downtown Philadelphia...
Face and his personal financier, Peter J. Greenberg sat beside each other in the visiting room.
"Peter, did you get the other money from my wife?" Face asked.
"Yes, Face. It's already deposited and collecting interest with all the rest. I told you, my friend, that everything will be taken care of. You just win this case so you can enjoy all of it," Peter said, sincerely.
Face looked at his friend with a pleasing smile. "Just remember to split everything between my mother, wife and children if anything was ever to happen to me."
"Don't you worry, that's already been taken care of. I told you when we first met years ago that I would take care of you. And that the rich know how to hide their assets- just leave everything up to me," Peter said, with a prideful smirk.
"Thanks Peter," Face said, as the two men stood from their chairs and shook hands.
"I'll be back to see you soon. Take care," Peter said before he turned and walked away.
As soon as Peter disappeared Gloria Jones entered into the visiting room with an intense look upon her face. With her briefcase in her hand, a C.O. escorted her and Face into a smaller inmate/attorney visiting room. When the door closed and they were left alone, Gloria looked straight into Face's eyes and said, "Face, I need for you to call off your goons. We don't need this trial to be any harder than it has to be!"
Face leaned forward and grabbed Gloria's arms in a tight grip. His voice dropped to an angry whisper, "Gloria, you do your job…And let me do mine!"
Gloria stared into Face's eyes. She felt fear and was turned-on at the same time. The man who stood in front of her was unlike any other man she had ever known. And Gloria knew that the only rules Face played by were his own.
West Philadelphia...
On the corner of 52nd and Girard Avenue, a tinted dark red Ford Expedition pulled up and parked. Detective Ron Perry got out of his dark gray Toyota Camry and rushed over to the truck.
When he got inside, Agent Jeff McDonald pulled off. His partner, Steve Powaski was sitting in the passenger seat an both of them looked somber.
"So, what's so important fellows?" Ron Perry asked, as he relaxed into the back seat.
Agent McDonald pulled up and parked the truck near the corner of 48th and Lancaster Avenue, right across the street from the old cemetery. After he cut the engine off he turned
toward Ron Perry and said, "We need you to do us a very big favor."
"What is it?" Ron Perry asked.
"We want you to kill Face!" Powaski replied, his blue eyes dead serious.
"What? Are you serious?" Ron Perry asked, leaning forward in his seat.
"Dead serious! That no good son-of-a-bitch is responsible for two of our finest men getting killed yesterday and Roberto Chevez. Now he needs to pay! And life behind bars just ain't good enough!" Agent McDonald vented.
Ron Perry sat back and smiled, "when would you like this done?"
"Soon. When the time is right…
we’ll let you know. So, is it a deal, or not?" Powaski asked.
"Y’all have yourselves a deal," Ron Perry said, as he reached over the seat and shook hands with both of the agents.
"And don't worry, Ron. This will be between us only. We'll get you everything you will need. Just when it's time, don't miss the target," McDonald said.
"Don't worry. I never miss!" Ron Perry grinned.
On the ride back to Ron Perry's car they discussed a few small details. Ron Perry was excited beyond words. The FBI had secretly hired him to kill the man that he hated more than anything in this world. His trigger finger already itched with anticipation.
After Ron Perry had climbed into his car and pulled off, Agent McDonald drove off in the opposite direction. When he stopped the truck at a red traffic light, he looked at his partner with a devilish grin and said, "so far, so good. I'll call Mr. Bradley and tell him that our pawns are in place." After Face is found guilty he won't be going to prison. He'll be going directly to his grave!" he added.
“Then one of us will have to eliminate Detective Ron Perry," Powaski said wickedly.
When the light changed, McDonald drove through the traffic light and looked at his smiling partner and said, "Since I took care of the last two pawns, Ill leave this one up to you."
Agent Powaski beamed with excitement, knowing that Detective Ron Perry was a dead man walking and he would be his Grim Reaper!
CHAPTER 99
One week later…
When the trial resumed a new witness was introduced to the crowded courtroom. Dressed in a pair of faded blue jeans and a white sweat shirt, Vernon 'Truck' Wilson was escorted into the courtroom by one of the court deputies. After taking the stand he was sworn in by the bailiff. Truck sat down with a apprehensive look. For months he had been nervously waiting for this day to arrive. A few times he had changed his mind and decided not to go through with it. But, the thought of getting back his freedom was just to strong to ignore and the government made him a deal that he couldn't resist. Still, deep in his burning soul, Truck knew that he had violated the ultimate code of the streets; to never snitch! Now, this former drug boss was one of the key witnesses testifying against Face: the same man he had brought into the drug game nearly ten years ago.
Face stared at his former friend with burning eyes. The pain inside of him was tearing at his crying soul. As Truck sat on the witness stand being questioned by the U.S. Prosecutor, Face sat calmly in his chair. Occasionally he would reach for his water glass, take a sip, then listen as Truck sat there spilling his guts.
Truck sat on the stand giving the court an Oscar worthy performance. Crying, laughing, and pleading to his captivated audience. He told the court everything he knew about Face,
and more. He told them about the first time they met, and how Face and Reese were his top two street enforcers. He also let the court know about the drug money he gave Face to start his
illegal business, and all the checks he received from T&F Real Estate Firm, that was owned by Face's wife, Tasha.
The twelve men and women of the jury sat there in complete awe. The jury listened on as Truck cried when he told them about his favorite nephew A-Rock, and his girlfriend Foxy, and how he suspected that Face and Reese were responsible for their murders.
Looks of total disbelief was written across the jury's shocked faces. A few jurors were even in tears. Before the Prosecutor finished questioning the witness, Vernon 'Truck'
Wilson had painted a picture of the most violent gangster to have ever existed; a man that was so ruthless he would kill anyone in his path.
"He's a monster! Face is a man who won't hesitate to kill for money or power!" Truck shouted into the microphone.
Face sat back. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Pamela and Tasha were both in tears.
"You killer!" someone shouted out loud.
"Order in the court!" Judge Marino said, as he banged his gavel down hard. "One more outburst like that, and you'll be escorted out of here!"
Face sadly turned around and folded his arms across his chest. The sight of seeing both his wife and mother cry, almost brought him to tears as well.
As Gloria stood from her chair to cross-examine the witness, the entire courtroom was completely silent. With all seriousness, she leaned over and whispered in Face's ear, "Don't worry, Face. I'm gonna expose this fraud". Then she stood straight up, fixed her eight hundred dollar Gucci outfit and headed toward the witness with an air of confidence. She was ready for war!
Gloria approached the witness stand and started clapping her hands, "your performance was very good, Mr. Wilson. Unfortunately, not everyone in this courtroom was fooled," she said. "So, let's not beat around the bush. Let's get straight to the point, shall we?"
Truck sat on the stand trying to look as comfortable as he could but underneath his calm exterior, there was a very nervous man.
"Mr. Wilson, is it true that you were once a major drug dealer in West Philly?"
"Yes," Truck spoke into the microphone.
"Is it also true that you were set-up by your nephew in an undercover-sting operation?"
"Yes," Truck replied, looking a little confused.
“Is it true that the same nephew that set you up and got you a twenty-five year sentence was also sleeping with your girlfriend, Foxy?" Gloria asked, walking toward the jury’s box.
"Yeah," Truck mumbled.
"I can't hear you, Mr. Wilson. Can you please speak up?
"Yes!" Truck barked.
Gloria turned and walked back over to the witness stand. She looked at Truck and noticed that sweat beads had started to form on his forehead. "Mr. Wilson, is it true that for testifying here today, you'll received a major reduction on your federal sentence?"
"Huh? I...I..."
"Just answer the question, Mr. Wilson."
"Objection Your Honor! The witness..."
"Objection overruled!" Judge Marino said, cutting the prosecutor off in mid-sentence.
"So, will you be receiving a major time cut? You know, 'A get out of jail free card'?" Gloria said, as a few people started laughing.
Truck's eyes were stretched wide and his forehead was covered with sweat. He looked at the Prosecutor for some type of moral support…anything to help him get out of answering the question.
Gloria waited patiently, watching as her nervous witness squirmed on the stand. At the same time the twelve members of the jury looked on with thought-provoking eyes. Seeing Truck's body language had exposed his weakness.
"I, I was promised a deal if I told the truth," Truck finally answered.
Gloria laughed and said, "And it takes that long for you to tell the truth?"
Once again there were a few laughs from the crowd and from some members of the jury.
"Either the truth really hurts, or you're just one big liar," she told him. "So let me see…you were set-up by your own nephew, the same nephew that was having a secret affair with your girlfriend. You received a twenty-five year sentence for trying to buy twenty kilos of cocaine from an undercover FBI agent, and now you're here in court today testifying against your former friend so you can get out of prison, and put him in! The same friend that made sure you never needed a single dime while you were doing your time in prison. You said it yourself, 'once a month a check was sent to you from the T&F Real Estate Firm'," Gloria said, as she faced the crowd. "Mr. Wilson, while you were away in prison, did anyone else send you any money?"
"No," Truck answered sadly. "Just Face," he added.
Gloria smiled and just shook her head, "So, this is how you do your friends?"
"Objection your Honor!" Bradley said, as he stood from his chair.
"Objection overruled!" the judge said.
"I...I'm...sorry Face," Truck said, putting his face down in total distress.
"If everything you said was the truth, Mr. Wilson, then why should you be sorry?" Gloria asked sarcastically.
After a few more personal questions Gloria had Truck i
n tears, catching him in lie after lie.
Bradley was squirming in his chair, watching helplessly as Gloria was easily breaking down one of his key witnesses. He was furious.
When Gloria had finally finished questioning Truck, she calmly walked back to her seat and sat down.
As she whispered something into Face's ear, the crowd, Judge, and jury all sat there completely stunned; Mrs. Gloria Jones had impressed all of them.
CHAPTER 100
After Gloria's powerful cross-examination, Truck was escorted out of the courtroom by the Court Deputy. Once out of the court room, he was immediately surrounded by four heavily armed U.S. Marshals. The four Marshals escorted Truck through a secret tunnel that led straight to a small private parking lot. When they all reached the parking lot a tinted, black armor plated Chevy Suburban was parked and waiting. Two more U.S. Marshals were standing around, pistols cocked and ready for anything. This time the Feds were well prepared; they had cars stationed all along the route they were to travel. When the Suburban pulled out the parking lot, Truck sat on the back seat with his head down. As his mind raced with thoughts a single tear fell from the corner of his left eye.
Later that night...
Tasha was laying back on the sofa enjoying the sounds of Jill Scott. She had just finished listening to Mary J. Blige and Keisha Cole, two of her favorite singers. In the tranquility of her home she let the smooth music take her far away, to another place and another time...
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