Animal III

by K'wan

  Kahllah moved low across the room, sucking bullets and the obscenities Donna was hurling at her. This was one more thing, in an already fucked up day, that she didn’t want to deal with. As she passed one of the dining tables, she grabbed a salt shaker and hurled it as hard as she could at Donna. The little glass shaker cracked Donna in the forehead, and stilling her and her big gun. She would have a hell of a headache, and a serious knot on her head when she woke up, but she would live. Kahllah was just about to turn her attention back to Detective Sully, when a much larger problem came rumbling out of the kitchen.

  Clyde looked from his unconscious mother to Kahllah and let out a feral scream. He grabbed a meat cleaver from the cutting board and bounded the counter. “You killed my mama!” he roared, coming at Kahllah with the meat cleaver.

  “Fuck my life,” she said, taking a defensive stance against the brute. Clyde swung the cleaver with so much force that she guessed he could probably remove her head with one swing. She needed to take him down before they had a chance to test the theory. She stabbed Clyde twice in the side with the knife, hoping to slow him down, but it only seemed to anger him. Clyde went high with the cleaver, while Kahllah went low with the knife. She ducked under his strike, slicing her knife through his stomach.

  Clyde staggered, blinking his eyes as if he had just awakened from a dream. He looked down at his stomach, as the layers of fat came open and freed his entrails. He tried to catch his intestines in his hands, but they slipped through is fingers and littered the floor at his feet. With a roar, Clyde charged Kahllah, intent on finishing her. Kahllah stood perfectly still, blade hanging at her side, and body tensed. When Clyde was almost on top of her, she made her move. At the last second, Kahllah sidestepped the lumbering brute and jammed her knife into the base of his skull. It was a quick and painless death. When she was done with the brute Clyde, Kahllah turned her attention back to Detective Sully. To her surprise, he had managed to dig the hook out of his leg and was limping towards the front door, leaving a trail of blood in his wake from the wound. Kahllah walked up on him slowly and grabbed him by the back of his suit jacket. “I ain’t done with you,” she snatched him off his feet and slid him down the countertop, breaking the cookie glass container of danishes when his skull made contact with it.

  Kahllah climbed the counter, and straddled Detective Sully so he couldn’t move. She picked up the steaming hot pot of coffee and held it over his face. “You’re the broker who was handling the contract on Klein. Somebody stuck their dirty hands in my business, and you’re going to tell me who.”

  “It’s like you said, I’m just the broker. I deliver information from one place to another and get a fee. Any extra twists that get put on it aren’t on me,” Detective Sully said.

  “Then who added the twists? How did Klein have the means and the knowledge to ambush me?” Kahllah demanded to know. When Detective Sully looked hesitant to talk, she doused him with a face full of the hot coffee.

  “Wait . . . wait . . .” Detective Sully choked. “Look, you know how careful your organization is. I never meet the person who sends the contracts face-to-face; I give them the information and tell them where to pick the money up and they give me timeframes for when the hits will be done. I never see them and they never see me.”

  “Well I guess that makes you just about useless,” Kahllah flicked her blade into a stabbing position, and held it over Sully’s heart.

  “I don’t know who handled the contract, but I know where they outsourced the shooters from that tried to take you out,” Detective Sully informed her.

  “I’m listening,” Kahllah said.

  “If I tell you this, my life isn’t gonna be worth shit,” Detective Sully told her.

  “Your life isn’t worth shit now, but at least you still have it . . . for the moment. Where did the men come from who aided Klein in trying to kill me?”

  “The guy you need to talk to is called Panama Black. He’s the one who provided the soldiers to take you out,” Detective Sully revealed.

  The name didn’t ring familiar at all. “Who is Panama Black and what is his connection to the Brotherhood?”

  “Panama Black is an immigrant piece of shit, who was pissing on the heads of law enforcement in Florida until he popped up in California a few months ago. Him and his boys are hired guns, willing to put in work for the highest bidder. They have no real standing amongst the heavier crews, but they’re a crazy fucking bunch.”

  “And how did this Panama Black come into the picture?” Kahllah was curious to know. She was aware that Khan wasn’t above hiring mercenaries, but involving street punks in Brotherhood business was a stretch even for him.

  “On my kid’s life, I don’t know. All I was told was that Panama Black would assist in coordinating the hit, which is what gave me the feeling that something was funny. For as many years as I’ve been setting up deals for the Brotherhood, they’ve never had anybody looking over my shoulder. After the incident with Klein got screwed up I started hearing the rumors about the Brotherhood booting you out.”

  Kahllah studied Sully’s face for signs of deception, and reasoned that he was telling the truth, which only made her situation stranger. Who was this Panama Black and what was his connection to the Brotherhood? The Brotherhood of Blood had many different affiliate factions who they networked with, but something as sensitive as taking out the Black Lotus wouldn’t have been trusted to hired help. Either Khan was slipping or there was something she was overlooking.

  “Where can I find this Panama Black?” Kahllah asked.

  “I don’t know for sure. He’s a nomad and never stays in one place for too long. Some guys associated with his crew got a social club over in Watts. I hear he’s banging one of the waitresses, so that may be a good place for you to start your search,” Detective Sully told her.

  When Kahllah was certain she had all the information she needed, she climbed off Detective Sully.

  “What about me?” Detective Sully asked.

  “What about you?”

  “Now that I’ve told you what I know, I’m sure your friends in the Brotherhood are going to be on my ass, if Panama Black doesn’t get me first. I need protection. You gotta get me somewhere safe. With the kind of beef I’m gonna have, I need to be somewhere so secure that only God can touch me. You owe me that!” Detective Sully told her.

  “You’re absolutely right. I do owe you,” Kahllah said, before snapping his neck. “Now you’re in a place where no one but God can touch you,” she said to his corpse before heading for the exit. She had more of a direction to go in now, but she still felt lost. She was sure it had been Khan who ordered her death, but Sully couldn’t confirm it. Before she acted, she needed to be sure.

  Kahllah had done enough damage for twenty-four hours. She figured it’d be best to head back to the house to check on Gucci and the kids, and get some rest. For as tired as she was, Kahllah knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. Her head would be filled with the thoughts of a man named Panama Black, and how best to kill him.

  THIRTEEN

  IT HAD BEEN QUITE SOME time since Animal had set foot in New York . . . two and a half years to be exact. When he’d been released from prison he’d only stuck around long enough to get his parole transferred to California and he was gone. He’d often dreamt about what his home coming would be like, to breathe in the stale . . . post up on some random corner with his old friends trading war stories about the men they used to be. His return was supposed to be a joyous occasion, but it was not. He wasn’t there to reconnect with the place of his birth. He was there to handle business.

  “You okay?” Sonja asked, noticing the tense look on Animal’s face.

  “Yeah, I’m cool. It’s just that, since I was old enough to hold a gun I’ve never been in the streets of New York without one. I guess I’m just feeling a little naked,” Animal told her. Since they were flying to New York there was no way he could take his guns on the plane. Almost no one knew he was there so he doubted he wo
uld need a pistol any time soon, but it still felt awkward not to have one.

  “Don’t worry, big homie. Once we link with my peoples they’ll make sure we got all the guns we need,” Ashanti said proudly.

  “I hope your people are reliable. I’d hate to have my baby daddy defending my honor with nothing but his dick in his hand,” Sonja said smugly.

  “My dick is none of your concern, Sonja. If you don’t agree with the arrangements Ashanti has made for us, why don’t you call your people to handle it?” Animal asked sarcastically.

  Sonja replied by giving Animal the finger. They both knew that was impossible. Every resource Sonja had was connected to her father. She wasn’t sure who, if anyone, she could still trust in the cartel.

  “Speaking of your homies, do they understand the sensitive nature of our visit? The last thing I need is them blabbing it and having every nigga in the hood knowing I’m in town,” Animal said seriously.

  “I’d trust them with my life, in fact I have trusted them with my life and I’m still here to vouch for them. The twins are solid,” Ashanti assured them.

  As if on cue a green minivan pulled up to the curb where they were standing. Abel climbed out first, climbing from the passenger side. He walked up on Ashanti and greeted him with a warm smile and a hug. “My nigga,” he patted Ashanti’s back.

  “Good to see you, Abel,” Ashanti returned the love. Just beyond Abel, Ashanti saw Cain standing at the curb, smoking a cigarette and staring at him from beneath his hood. “What up, Cain? Show ya nigga some love!”

  Cain expelled the smoke, and took measured steps towards Ashanti. “Welcome back,” he hugged Ashanti, but he didn’t feel the warmth in it as he had with Abel.

  Ashanti picked up on his vibe, but didn’t mention it. “Fellas, let me introduce y’all to a good friend of mine,” he waved Animal over. “This is Animal, Animal these are the twins, Cain and Abel.”

  Abel gave Animal dap, but Cain stared at him for a few seconds before shaking Animal’s extended hand. Cain’s skin was colder than it should’ve been, considering it was a warm day. Animal didn’t know what disturbed him more about the young man, the scar that marked one half of his face, or the predatory stare he was giving him.

  “Sup, with you?” Animal asked Cain, finally tiring of the staring contest.

  “They say that you are a man who cannot be killed. Is this true?” Cain asked in way of a response.

  Animal studied his face for signs of sarcasm, but found only sincerity in the question. “I reckon that I can be killed, they just haven’t figured out a way to do it yet.”

  “Fascinating,” Cain said, studying Animal. He had never met the man personally, but knew his body of work very well. A few years back he had stumbled across a crime scene. There was a crowd of people and twice as many police trying to keep them away from the corpse in front of the building. Cain had been able to slip through the crowd and steal a glance at the dead man. He had been shot multiple times, but what caught Cain’s attention was his mutilated face. Someone had carved the word war in it. To Cain, it wasn’t just a murder, it was a crime of rage. Whoever had done it was just like him, an angry and broken soul. Rumor had it that it was done by someone who called himself Animal and from there Cain dug up as much as he could on the phantom killer. It was a total coincidence when Cain and Ashanti became friends, and he found out Ashanti had been the protégé of Animal. Cain could sit and listen to Ashanti for hours as he told stories of capers he and Animal had pulled. Cain’s love for Ashanti was genuine, but he also wanted to be closer to the myth. If Ashanti had learned from Animal, then Cain would learn from him.

  “Damn, Blood, you staring at the homie like you wanna kiss him,” Ashanti joked.

  Cain’s face became hard again. “You’re a funny guy. I guess your time away from the hood has given you a sense of humor. Maybe one day I’ll develop one,” he said coldly. “Let me go help the lady with her bags,” he walked off to assist Red Sonja.

  “What’s that all about?” Animal asked, picking up on the tension.

  Abel shrugged. “My brother sometimes wears his heart on his sleeve. Give him some time and he’ll come around. We should probably get going,” he climbed back into the passenger seat.

  Animal helped Sonja into the back then got in beside her. Ashanti climbed in the back row. Animal happened to look in the back of the van, where Cain was loading the bags, and saw that he was staring at Ashanti. It wasn’t a hostile stare, just a black and constant one. Animal knew there was something between him and Ashanti that neither of them was speaking on. It was a situation that he would definitely watch closely.

  • • •

  Their first stop would be the twin’s apartment. Sonja wanted to go check into the hotel, but Animal wasn’t trying to hear it. Before he did anything, he needed to arm himself. Once he had a pistol on his person, they could do whatever Sonja wanted. They were expecting to go somewhere in Harlem, but were surprised when Cain instead headed into Brooklyn.

  “I didn’t know y’all moved out of the hood,” Ashanti was surprised. Neither Cain nor Abel had ever mentioned anything about having a new apartment.

  “Shit, we had to. Can’t keep dropping bodies where you lay your head. That shit’ll add years on your life,” Abel told him.

  “Or take years off,” Cain snickered from behind the wheel. He’d been otherwise quiet for the whole ride, except to offer a one word answer if someone asked him a question.

  Ashanti ignored Cain’s smart remark, and struck up a conversation with Abel. “So, what y’all cats been up to lately?”

  “Trying to get a dollar, same as always,” Abel told him.

  “Y’all still out there banging them corners for King James?” Ashanti asked. King James was the head of a criminal organization that operated out of Harlem. In a few short years King James had gone from hustling crack and cocaine out of different housing projects, to gobbling up entire neighborhoods. At one point, he had been the biggest opposition to the reigning king, Shai Clark, until, with Animal’s help, Ashanti brokered an uneasy truce. Ashanti had been one of his lieutenants until he went on to pursue other endeavors.

  “We don’t play the corners anymore. We’re upper management now,” Cain informed Ashanti.

  This bit of news surprised Ashanti since he knew King James had never seen the twins as much more than attack dogs. “Congratulations,” he said sincerely.

  “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you, Ashanti,” Abel told him. “In an ironic sort of way, we have you to thank for it. When you left, there was a vacant seat at the table so King offered it to me and my brother.”

  “I guess you leaving wasn’t such a bad thing after all,” Cain remarked.

  Their destination was an apartment building off of Atlantic Avenue near the Barclay’s center. It was a surprisingly nice building with balconies and a doorman. Ashanti had to admit he was impressed with the upgrade by his young shooters. Cain drove the car into an underground garage and parked it in their reserved spot. He led the group to the elevator, and held the door while they all filed in. They stepped off the elevator into a carpeted hallway with a chaise lounge against the wall beneath a mounted brass mirror.

  Cain and Abel had a two-bedroom apartment with a balcony that gave them a bird’s eye view of the arena. The apartment was surprisingly spotless to be a bachelor pad. This was likely due to Abel being a germaphobe. Each of the twins had certain ticks about them, and Abel’s was that he detested filth. The apartment was decorated in black and white furniture, with a few splashes of color thrown in here and there. A large television was mounted on the wall, which was turned to CNN twenty-four hours per day when Cain was at home. It drove Abel crazy, but it was one of his brother’s quirks, so most days he watched television in his own bedroom. Overall it appeared that the twins were doing far better for themselves than they had been before Ashanti left.

  “Not bad,” Red Sonja admired the apartment.

  “Oh, but you haven’t al
lowed me to show you the best part,” Abel took Sonja by the elbow. “May I?” he asked Animal.

  Animal shrugged. “I got no claims on Sonja.”

  “Why are you asking him, like I don’t have a mouth?” Sonja asked Abel with a fake attitude.

  “Just trying to make sure I’m not stepping on anybody’s toes. I mean, y’all did arrive together,” Abel pointed out.

  “But that doesn’t mean we’ll be leaving together,” Sonja said mischievously, and hooked her arm in Abel’s. As Abel was escorting Red Sonja across the living room, she spared a glance over her shoulder and caught Animal watching her. His face was neutral, but she could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

  “She’s just trying to get under your skin,” Ashanti whispered to Animal, noticing the tight set of his jaw.

  “The sooner we get this business handled, the sooner I can be rid of her,” Animal said.

  Abel led Red Sonja to the long sofa that sat on the far side of the living room, just in front of the balcony doors. “You wanted to show me your couch?” Red Sonja said in a tone that said she clearly wasn’t impressed.

  “Have patience, sweetheart,” Abel gave her a wink, before snatching the couch cushions back, revealing a hidden compartment that held a small arsenal of weapons. “Impressed now?”

  “Very,” Sonja said gleefully, looking over all the guns.

  Animal and Ashanti came to join them, taking stock of their stash. Cain and Abel had everything hidden in that couch from handguns to small assault rifles. There was even a small case containing several grenades. If Animal couldn’t say anything else about the twins, they were serious about their hardware.

  “You boys don’t fuck around do you?” Animal asked, testing the weight of a military issued .45. The cold steel felt good against his skin.

  “War ready,” Cain tapped the tattoo on his neck, which read the same. “Live every day like you’re gonna die . . .”

  “ . . . But not before you take as many of your enemies with you as you can,” Abel finished the sentence for him. The twins often finished each other’s sentences, as if one could tell what the other was thinking.