Killswitch Chronicles- The Complete Anthology

by G. R. Carter

  The Jordans and their allies made plenty of enemies in their rise to the top. But the police were always very helpful to the respectful young man who handled himself as a businessperson and who made sure that anyone who assaulted a cop was never seen or heard from again. As the Jordans took out the rival organizations in town, Jalen began the process of integrating the younger members of competing groups. The concept of GangStars, or an all-star team for gangsters, soothed the idea of losing generations of loyalty to a particular sign or color.

  With the help of references from his contacts in power, Jalen spread the GangStar brand to surrounding communities such as Peoria and Decatur. Chicago was high on his list for expansion, as was St. Louis. In fact, he already had a connection to one of the law firms that ran the rackets in St. Louis. MC Consultants now helped Jalen manage the family’s money and legal affairs. MC was one of the big six mafia families, disguised as law firms, which ran most of the rackets in the vicinity of St. Louis. Aldo Pavoni made the introductions, connecting Jalen with a cousin working in the firm.

  That was the future. Right now he had to deal with a very dark present. As two more captains were led in by their entourages, Jalen brought all attention to him to start the discussion.

  “We’ve still got Robbie and Elijah to come in yet, but we need to move ahead with some plans. Where do we stand if the power is out for a few days?”

  Omar Jordan spoke first, as he usually did. “I was up last night when everything started shuttin’ off. Weird stuff. First the lights got real bright, then poof! Gone! I don’t know for sure, but I think there’s a bigger problem than just an electrical short.”

  Jalen looked at Marti’s cousin, Malik Masen. “You think the same, cuz?”

  Malik nodded his head. The only one of his captains who had a college degree, his middle-class background and education helped in negotiations with groups like MC Consultants. But the civilized veneer didn’t make the man inside any less ruthless than his street-educated colleagues.

  “Yes, Jalen, I believe we have a major problem. As you and I have discussed, this city-centralized food and shelter program run by a government office makes our business much easier to conduct. Control the process, control the profits. But if our customers don’t have their SmartWatchs, and as near as I can tell not a single one is working, we can’t transfer credits. That means we’re all cash right now,” Malik said, pausing to let that sink in with the men in the room.

  Jalen felt Pavoni tense up. If cash was the only currency available, suddenly those with the cash became targets. The electronic currency stored on the government-issued SmartWatch devices went a long way to controlling robbery on the streets. No one could use your SmartWatch without your unique bio signal, and that made stealing them pointless. But if cash was floating around again, there would be people desperate enough to take the risk of stealing it.

  Malik continued: “Here’s the more important thing. Desperation is bad for business. Right now, our customers are fat and happy. They get their meals fed to them during the day by the Feds, and they get their vices fed to them at night by us. If the Feds aren’t feeding them, they’re going to get angry and hungry. You’ve got entire generations out there that have never missed a meal or a good time. I’m not talking about the poor neighborhoods, I’m talking about the middle and upper class neighborhoods, too. What do you think is going to happen if they go without Syn for a few days? What if something is really wrong and a few days turns into a few weeks?”

  Jalen heard someone whistle from the doorway. He smiled and nodded as his best friend walked into the room and greeted him with a long hug. “I was getting worried about you, E,” Jalen said to Elijah Morales, the man responsible for keeping an eye on the largest part of the Jordan Empire. “You see Robbie anywhere?”

  “Not yet, JJ,” Morales said. The two men were closer than brothers since first grade. Even though the Jordan name appeared on the organization, Jalen always made it clear he considered his inner circle his equals in every way.

  “I hope he gets in soon, things are getting a little interesting out there.”

  Pavoni spoke for the first time: “So we have control of the night, who controls the day?” Jalen always welcomed Pavoni’s input, especially on matters of security and interacting with other powerful organizations. With no desire to control any part of the Jordan organization, Pavoni made the perfect unbiased balance to Jalen’s ambitious captains. The men pondered the question, then blurted the first answers that came to mind.

  “The cops?”

  “The Feds?”

  “The state police?”

  As each man answered, Jalen began to put the puzzle pieces together in his mind. When it was his turn to answer, he simply grinned and said, “We do.”

  Pavoni nodded his head. “That’s right, sir. You control the people who control the daytime. If I may suggest so, sir, it might be time to use up some of those favors I know you store up.”

  Jordan’s men began to grasp what Pavoni was suggesting.

  Elijah spoke first: “He’s right, JJ. Most of the big shots have moved to Chicago already. The ones left behind are a lot weaker. They don’t have the organization you do. We can really own this town now. We’ve got the weapons and the cash, what else do we need?”

  “Food.” Malik had moved to the conference room windows, watching as the sunlight spread its warmth over the quiet buildings. He continued to stare out, speaking to them as though conversing with himself. “If we want to control the daytime, we have to get our hands on the food. Not just the ration bars in the stores, but the whole thing. Go right to the source.”

  “If it’s scarce, people will do anything for it,” Elijah agreed. “If anyone should know that, it’s us.”

  Pavoni let the words soak in and spoke directly to Jalen. “Sir let’s get our men over to the Feds' food warehouse. The guys that work there are members of one of our unions. And the guy that runs the local is all twisted up with something. You remember what it is? I know we’ve got some of those guys working for you somehow. Give the nod to take the warehouse. We’ll offer nicely at first, I promise.”

  “We’ll need trucks,” Malik added.

  “The Major at the Air National Guard base is a customer of mine,” cousin Omar said. Shrugging, he continued, “It gets lonely for some of those guys out there, so we throw a little on-base party every week. I’ll speak with him myself, get him to understand. I’m sure he’ll make a trade to borrow the trucks and some manpower. Can I offer to let him keep his post?”

  Jalen nodded. “Better to negotiate than fight. We’ve got more weapons and more soldiers, but their guns are bigger. Let’s make them ours the old-fashioned way, with sugar.”

  Omar headed for the door to start on his mission, and Pavoni followed close behind.

  Jalen turned to his cousin-in-law. “Malik, I want you to consider something for me. We’ve got GangStars in each of the prisons around here. Took me some favors to keep them all close. How long do we have before those places go into full meltdown?”

  “Good question. Figure that some of the guards will show up the first day, but only those with old vehicles. No newer vehicles are running. I see from your motorcade you’ve been able to ascertain that. That leaves a small handful or armed staff, and they’ll split for home as soon as they think they can. The question will be if they leave the inmates locked up in their cells, or if some can get loose.”

  Malik turned and looked at Jalen. “Do you understand there’s almost twenty thousand state and federal prisoners within sixty miles of here?”

  “Is that good news or bad news?” Jalen asked grimly.

  “Good news if we can control the men and the facilities where they’re at. Think about it. It’s a ready-made army for us, all those vicious SOBs. The prisons are built like a fortress and there's lots of supplies stored up,” Malik said.

  “Do you think we could make it work?”

  “Yes, with some selective reduction in populati
on,” Malik stated coldly.

  “I’m glad you’re on my side, cuz. That’s some scary stuff right there. Use our boys already inside to give us a list of who makes the cut?” Jalen asked. The plan was formulating in his mind, he just wanted to talk it through out loud.

  “Right. Figure we keep no more than a few hundred per facility. Each one holds about fifteen hundred right now. I imagine the culling has begun already.” The bespectacled Malik looked every bit the stereotypical accountant, right down to the bow tie look for Sunday church. But something was different about the eerie calm settled over the man this morning, as though a new creature had been unleashed.

  “Jalen, I want to make my feelings clear to you. I have been very concerned about what the future held for your…our organization. With so many of our wealthy clients leaving town, I was afraid we would be left behind also. If the power stays out, and I believe it’s going to, now’s the time for us to chart a new future. Throughout history, men have risen to great power in times of chaos. This is your moment. This is one of the pivot points that make the history books.

  “There’s absolutely nothing and no one to stop you from controlling the entire space between Chicago and St. Louis. And who knows about those two places? They’ll probably be burnt down by the end of the week. I’m talking nuclear-war type destruction. You see what I’m getting at?” Malik asked.

  Jalen studied his wife’s cousin’s face. Why does he seem so excited about this? Does he believe what he’s saying, or does he think this will be a chance for him to get more power? He never had concern to doubt the Masen family’s loyalty. Marti was a strong woman in her own right, and once she came to terms with the career of the man she fell in love with, there had been no stronger advocate for Jordan Inc. Strange times, strange deeds…and the power’s only been out for less than twelve hours!

  “Okay, Malik. I’ll bite. Tell me why I would even want to have all that flyover country. Nothing out there but redneck towns and hillbillies.”

  “Resources, plain and simple. If we want to live, we need food, fuel, water. In the distant past, land was the only real wealth. There were no electronic digits to show what you were worth…only what you could hold in your hand. What could be grown in the soil or maybe what was buried underneath. Illinois screwed up everything it touched for the last one hundred years. But before that it was an economic power house because of its resources. If we’re looking at a collapse of epic proportions, the ones left holding the resources are in the driver’s seat. Our family will be set up for hundreds of years, no joke.”

  Jalen Jordan rarely found himself breathless or at a loss for words. He seldom spoke more than necessary, but he was always ready when the notion moved him. The thought of his daughters being aristocrats – the true ruling class – spoke to a man brought up the hard way.

  “Yo, JJ,” Elijah broke in. “Come back to us, JJ. Malik, I’m afraid our leader has been transported to another land. You got him thinking he’s the next King Arthur!”

  Jordan Incorporated’s president forced himself back to the current situation. “Malik, E is right. You had me going for a moment. I think I see where you’re headin’, and I like it a lot. But cuz, we’ve got a lot of things to get done between now and then.”

  “I understand, Jalen, and I’ll be right there to help you. You know that. But I just wanted to give you the bigger picture to consider as we’re going about the first steps. Remember, you have to lay the foundation before building the empire,” Malik said, finally allowing himself a slight smile.

  *****

  “Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.”

  “That’s probably never been said about this place, Malik. I mean, like, ever. No one would ever call any prison beautiful, especially not this one.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. But they never considered it under these circumstances. Look at those walls, man. They have to be three feet thick! Three separate twelve-foot high fences, each with a clear kill zone. Towers on the corners able to see across hundreds of yards of open terrain. No way in without an invitation.”

  Malik stood in the prison parking lot, taking in the sight. He looked over at his cousin Robbie, missing from Jordan Inc. for the three days since the power failed and the lights went out on the world. Robbie Masen was smiling nervously; he knew what Malik’s plan was, but he still wasn’t convinced it was the right move. So far, things had gone according to schedule. Jalen and the rest of the GangStar leadership assumed that Robbie had been killed in the chaotic hours shortly after the outages since he didn’t attend the emergency meeting, and no one had seen him.

  Robbie instead remained quite alive and active. Secretly, Malik used him to solidify his own private army outside of the city before anyone else had a chance to. Malik’s work securing the corrections union contract with the St. Louis law firm MC Consultants gave him the opportunity to contact the location managers of every prison within a ninety-mile radius of their home city. The private company that owned the prisons paid their managers quite well, and MC Consultants taught Malik to pay people in positions like that even better. With the support of the most powerful person on site at each facility, the GangStars’ front company, Jordan Inc., was a shoo-in for the contract. Now that there was no corporation to employ them, these same people were thrilled to join Malik’s payroll full-time.

  Luckily, a few of the prison guards at each facility also agreed to stay. They all had families to take care of, and there wasn’t much else to turn to where they could provide for themselves. With the help of the few that signed on, others were recruited to fill out the ranks of a private security force loyal to Malik himself. From the prison population, GangStar members emerged to join the guards to keep order inside.

  Malik and Robbie didn’t discuss how old disputes with other gangs were being settled, but the violence was necessary to establish the hierarchy. Leave no doubt about who was in charge and get it done immediately was their only stipulation. GangStar members were thrilled that someone had come to help them, never knowing that they were now working for Malik and not Jalen Jordan. Wisely he left them in the dark about what his next steps were, instead planning to take the mercenary prison guards when he returned to Springfield.

  Malik always hedged his bets; the prison building in front of him would serve as his backup headquarters, just in case something went wrong. He planned to keep two hundred loyal men here safely behind the thick walls and high fences. With a population of over two thousand prisoners and several hundred staff before the lights went out, the supply rooms inside would provide enough food and medicine for a smaller group for months. And that didn’t take into account the foraging groups already “shopping” throughout the surrounding towns.

  He wasn’t concerned about the terror being inflicted by hardened criminals on the small-town people. In fact, the last couple of day’s activities helped recruit men to join his security force. A special code was placed in front of the homes of his people, and the penalty for messing with someone under Malik’s protection was immediate death. Once men in the community figured out that working for Malik meant safety for their families, the choice was simple; join or die.

  Everything was happening so quickly. Malik never planned on the Masen family instigating a coup. He really had been loyal to Jordan all these years. But the simple metal disc in his pocket called out to him, leading his mind back to the Path each time he began to have second thoughts about what he was doing.

  The conversation had started so simply when he was in college. Malik could still remember his religion professor asking, “What is Truth?” From that starting point, the class discussed the different world faiths, finding their similarities and then discussing why each one was wrong for humanity. Unlike most other classes, few people ever skipped this one. The discussion was so engaging and the professor so enlightening. The Masen family was never really religious. Of course they attended church, as most people in their community did. But it was really more of a social gathering
and not a spiritual experience. But then Professor Baldwin helped Malik see true spirituality, helped him understand what it meant to be a sentient being. Malik never truly saw the end of what the professor was telling him, but he knew from then on that he was meant for something greater.

  After he graduated, Malik went through the motions with church to please his family and stay involved with his friends. Once his cousin Marti met Jalen Jordan, the leader of the GangStar criminal enterprise, Malik’s life changed. He became a man of respect in the city. He was aware that Jalen’s first thought was that he would make a good-looking front man for the organization. But over time, Jalen looked to him for guidance with complex issues facing the ever-growing enterprise. As they made the move into more legitimate businesses as a way to launder ill-gotten cash flowing in, Malik negotiated the contracts providing cover to the Jordans. As the years passed, his quest for spirituality slowly took a back seat to worldly gain.

  Priorities changed when he met the senior partners at MC Consultants. After several generations of growth it now was one of the largest firms in the country, second in influence only to their arch-rivals Rosenberg, Kane & Associates, better known as ARK. Malik found himself at MC’s headquarters at least once every couple of weeks. There was always plenty of business to discuss. Jordan Inc.’s bid for the prison contract was actually MC’s idea and they guided Malik through it the whole time for a very small percentage of the take.

  MC also helped bring Syn to the GangStar organization. Customers couldn’t get enough of the blue pills. MC made introductions to get the product flowing from wherever it originated, and even helped the Jordans develop a production facility of their own on the city’s south side. Profits skyrocketed, allowing the organization the dollars they needed to buy as much influence as they wanted.

  What really intrigued Malik were the Progressions; a series of self-improvement sessions all members of MC joined in. He was especially pleased to discover that his old mentor Professor Baldwin even came to give lectures on Progressions. Malik’s fire was rekindled at the classes, giving him the same passion for Continuity he had while in college.