by Darrell King
From the room, the men walked together onto the patio in order to continue with the details of their fiendish plans in the humid Puerto Rican night.
The doctor was understandably distressed over what he’d just overheard coming from the next room. He knew he had to work quickly and with a calculating and cool head. Had he not known Spanish, he would’ve been unaware of the terrible fate awaiting him. Goddard, by now, knew pretty much every nook and cranny within Valentino’s home. He slowly began packing a few small items into one duffle bag while Valentino and his bodyguards chatted and enjoyed margaritas on the outside. After packing briefly, Dr. Goddard finished up his final medical report online for his superiors at Fort Detrick and logged off his computer, placing it along with the all important floppy disk into his duffle bag. By the time he’d completed his work, it was 1:22 a.m. and the entire mobile home was dimly lit and silent with the exception of a small AM/FM radio churning out syrupy Latin love songs from the windowsill over the sink in the kitchen. Dr. Goddard quickly made his move towards the northeastern direction of the yard where night patrolling guards usually went to sit upon the marble benches in front of the fish pond to relax and smoke for a few minutes before returning to their nightly rounds.
Manuel Rodolfo, a grumpy fellow of about 46 with a dark, olive completion, a squat, chunky build and protruding belly, was seated beneath one of the several oil lamps found throughout the garden. He enjoyed a taste of cheap rum from a metal flask as he tapped out a cigarette from a freshly opened pack of Salems he’d just pulled from his wrinkled trousers.
As the Hispanic gunman cupped his sweaty palm around the cancer stick in an attempt to light it, he was oblivious to the figure moving silently within the shadows behind him. A momentary light orange glow highlighted Rodolfo’s hard looking features, with its deep lines and creases, stubbly beard, and noticeable knife scar along his right cheek a permanent reminder of his youthful career as a member of La Perla’s Latin Kings street gang.
Goddard crept up behind a banana tree and cocked back on his military-issued handgun. He peeped around for a second look at the heavy-set Puerto Rican before making his final and decisive move. He felt his heart thumping loudly within his chest and tried to ignore the perspiration trickling down his forehead. He was a doctor in the U.S. Army, not a soldier. He’d seen the horrors of war, but never had been forced to take up a weapon in an offensive way against anyone—until now—and he was scared shitless. Yet his sense of self-preservation overcame his strong but brief feeling of dread, and he reacted as only a desperate man would. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dr. Goddard launched his attack. Stepping out from behind the tree, the doctor rushed forward pointing the nine millimeter at the seated man’s chest.
“Mi Amigo, stand up with your hands over your head where I can see them! I’m leaving here tonight and you’re going to drive me back downtown to the Condado Hotel, Si? There I will meet with the men from the U.S. Army who will take me back home to the states. If you fully cooperate, you will not be harmed,” Goddard said in a sharp, authoritative tone while steadying the muzzle of the nine-millimeter on the startled gunman.
Rodolfo stared at his hijacker with stern defiance and anger, even glancing quickly twice at his assault rifle lying only inches away from his grasp. Upon seeing the Puerto Rican’s shifty eyes and jerky movements, Goddard drew closer, warning the man of any foolish actions on his part.
“Look here, Amigo, if you know what’s good for you, you wouldn’t even think about going for that AK, because you’ll be dead by the time your fingers touch the fuckin’ stock. And if you didn’t notice already, I’ve got a silencer attached to this nine and I’m a pretty good shot too. So don’t tempt me, fat boy. Okay? You’re smarter than you look. I’m sure of it. Now act like you know before I give your ass a permanent siesta, comprende?” Dr. Goddard spoke precisely in Rodolfo’s native tongue.
Slowly, the gunman arose from the bench with this hands placed firmly on top of his head. Dr. Goddard quickly snatched up the AK-47 and directed his hostage toward a Land Rover parked beneath a grove of banana trees just outside the compound’s gates. Though he had the full cooperation of Valentino’s bodyguard as well as possession of two weapons, the young doctor was still completely filled with anxiety and fear. The perimeter surrounding the gates were patrolled by many other well armed guards who would not hesitate to fill him with lead if anything happened to go wrong. Luckily for Dr. Goddard, most of the other gunmen were off patrolling near the edge of the jungle where most of the thieves would travel in order to plunder Valentino’s bountiful drug fields. Once the two men had made it into the Land Rover, Goddard directed the driver from the backseat. Quickly the jeep took off through the dark jungle trail in route to downtown Old San Juan.
Chapter 4
The CDC says that African Americans account for more than half of the reported cases of HIV and almost half of all AIDS cases. Of all the people who live with AIDS, 42% are black.
TaKeisha Smith, Dr. Edward Goddard’s half sister, grew weary of watching music videos and gossiping with her girlfriends on the phone. She’d just graduated from Bladensburg High School with honors and a 4.0 grade point average a week earlier. Her best friend, Kiara “Kee-Kee” Lowery and Kee-Kee’s big sister, Yasmin, had invited her to come with them to Virginia Beach for the weekend. But very few activities seemed to take her mind off of her brother and his safety.
He hasn’t called me in weeks … no postcards, no emails, no nothing! That ain’t like Eddie. I hope he’s all right; probably doin’ some top secret-type Army shit again, Keisha thought to herself as she undressed in front of her full length mirror. Oh, well, lemme shower and get dressed so I can ride out to Virginia Beach with Kee-Kee and Yasmin.
Several hours later, the three young women were in Virginia Beach enjoying the sun, surf, and flirtatious advances of the hard bodied men who shared the beach and boardwalk with them.
“TaKeisha, girl, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I got three fine ass niggas tryin’ to holla and shit. What do you think I should do?” Kee-Kee questioned TaKeisha as they prepared to lay out beach towels and umbrellas upon the white sands near the incoming surf.
“You already know who I’m gonna say, right? I like J-Dub for you, girl, and that ain’t never gonna change!” TaKeisha replied.
Kee-Kee smirked playfully at her best friend as she fastened the big blue and white umbrella to the rear of the outstretched towel. “I know I shouldn’t have asked you … I know that J-Dub’s my baby’s daddy and all. And we went together ever since middle school, but I don’t know. He just acts too immature sometimes for me, you know? Plus, Kenyon Chiles and Ronnie Free been pressin’ me hard to be with them. So I don’t really know what way I wanna go with it.”
“Well, I guess I look at J-Dub like a brother. He’s been with you for so long that he just seems like family. You know? I mean that is your son’s father. Why don’t you give him another chance?” TaKeisha asked, lying beneath the shade of the beach umbrella.
“There you go with that ole ‘baby daddy’ shit again. If Jeremy wants to get back together, we gonna have to work on some things … both of us. You know what I’m saying? He be acting like he better than everybody with that job of his and stuff; like his work is the most important thing in the world. What about me and his five-year-old son?”
“Well I’m pretty sure J-Dub will be more than willing to patch things up between you two; just take it nice and slow. He deals with a lot of day-to-day stress, you know. I don’t believe he thinks he’s better than you or anything like that. Like you said, I just think he’s caught up in his job is all. But things could work out between you two. You’ll see.”
Kee-Kee placed a pair of dark sunshades over her big brown eyes and sighed as she leaned back under her umbrella preparing to read a copy of Sister 2 Sister. “If that fine-ass brother of yours weren’t like family, I would’ve been jumped on his ass, girl! Now that’s a real man!”
Both young women
laughed heartily over the thought of Kee-Kee hooking up with Doctor Edward Goddard. Then a long silence took control as each of the youngsters became lost in their own thoughts as the gently flowing surf washed upon the beach, mixing with the cries of circling gulls overhead and laughter coming from the many beach combers splashing in the cool waters beyond.
TaKeisha wished that her friend would finally settle down with one man and work on a solid healthy relationship for once. Even Kee-Kee’s older sister, Yasmin, had become upset with her promiscuity, which had resulted in four unwanted pregnancies, all ending in abortions after she had her son. As the two girls looked out upon the surf, they were suddenly approached by Yasmin who had been out for the better half of an hour shopping at the local mall just beyond the sandy fringes of the boardwalk, picking up an assortment of sultry summer dresses and haggling over shoe prices while Kiara and Kee-Kee sun worshipped.
“C’mon, y’all. Let’s get up outta here and go back to the hotel. I just ordered some food and it’ll be there any minute,” Yasmin announced while smiling eagerly at each handsome stud that happened to make eye contact with her.
A young curly haired, broad-shouldered lifeguard took the opportunity to approach the attractive trio, striking up a brief, but lively, conversation with Yasmin, whose bold preoccupation with him was the primary reason for his courage in the first place. Before they left the beach for lunch, the lifeguard assured the girls that he’d watch over their belongings until they returned from their hotel room. As Yasmin and Kee-Kee giggled like school girls in the presence of the dark-skinned Adonis standing in their midst, TaKeisha still found herself distracted, unable to think about anything but the whereabouts and safety of her beloved older brother.
***
At 6:45 a.m., the Cessna Skyhawk SP bearing La Perla’s top drug dealer appeared like a white snowball against the dark slate gray skyline above North Carolina’s mist-shrouded Appalachian peaks. It cruised above a rapidly moving storm system stretching across the tar heel state and on into Virginia. Inside the comfortable confines of the spacious Skyhawk SP, Lucien Valentino calmly looked down at his sparkling diamond-clustered Rolex and occasionally out the small window to his left to see the beauty of the morning’s sun spreading its glorious golden rays across the picturesque mountain range below, eagerly anticipating the touchdown at the small craft airport outside of Dulles airport. The pilot and his female sidekick counted and recounted the $13,000 Valentino had given them for the flight with gleeful greed up front in the modest cockpit of the aircraft as a fittingly amused Valentino looked on. By the time the Cessna entered Virginia’s airspace, it was 7:22 a.m. and the weather was a comfortable 63 degrees, sunny with clear blue skies overhead.
Once the small plane began its descent down toward the narrow runway, Valentino’s slight smile disappeared, replaced by a stern look of seriousness and depth. The wheels of the Cessna skidded along the slick, dark gray asphalt runway that had gotten drenched by a downpour earlier that morning, long before the sun rose above the horizon. Valentino arose from his seat and stooped down low as he exited the small twin-engine plane along with the pilot and his lady friend. A dark-skinned, bald gentleman dressed in a snazzy navy blue double- breasted pinstriped suit met them immediately. Standing at least six-foot-three, wearing ultra-dark Ray Ban sunshades and sporting a neatly trimmed goatee, the unidentified man appeared very intense and menacing as he stood off to the side conversing with Valentino in a barely audible monotone voice while a small crew of baggage handlers quickly removed Valentino’s luggage from the plane. Valentino bid goodbye to the pilot and his woman as the tall man whose stern demeanor remained solemn and intimidating as he escorted him over to an awaiting cream-colored limousine.
“We’re on our way to Landover, Maryland. Right, Tommy? Brightseat Garden Apartments, ain’t that right?” Valentino asked his well-dressed chauffeur from the plush backseat of the limo as it slowly pulled away from the airport and on towards the busy highway in the distance. Thomas Broom, a cold-hearted killer and successful drug trafficker had been an important connection for Valentino for well over a decade, helping him to make aquaintances with some of the game’s most infamous heavyweights, such as New Orleans’ Marion ‘Snookey’ Lake, L.A.’s Divante Lovett and DC’s own Katrina ‘Southeast Trina’ Ricks.
“Oh, no doubt. But I thought you said you needed to pick up that package from them young’uns out Kentland first though?” the mean looking driver inquired as he glanced up into the rearview mirror at Valentino.
“You know how we do, Tommy. That payment gonna be picked up before we do anything else, dawg. C’mon now, you been knowin’ me since 1990, ain’t shit changed, baby boy.”
Pleased with his friend’s answer, the straight-faced Thomas Broome slipped a “Best of Rick James” CD into the stereo and merged into the overwhelming traffic flow of the Capital Beltway as the hypnotic, electric guitar laced lyrics of “Mary Jane” filled the limo with punk funk dreaminess. Thomas Broome had been a premier drug connection for Valentino for three and a half years, now linking the Puerto Rican drug lord with many of the east coast’s most notorious ballers, such as DC’s own Maurice Lil Mo’ Gentry and New Orleans crime boss Marion “Snookey” Lake, to name but a few. Over the years Broome had helped Valentino earn an enviable income selling narcotics between Puerto Rico and the mainland U.S. and had himself become rich in the process. A hardened criminal, Thomas Broome was no stranger to violence. Early in his criminal career he had murdered over a dozen people between Prince George’s County and the District of Columbia—all by the tender age of sixteen. As thugs go, the two men were definitely cut from the same cloth.
Two days later, the Prince George’s County police were alerted to a small single family home in Kentland, Maryland, to discover five male residents of the modest two story house dead of gunshot wounds to the back of the head. The execution style murders seemed to have occurred with little or no signs of struggle when investigated by the police. Though few locals spoke publicly on camera about the multiple murders privately, not wanting to be labeled as snitches, there were rumors of a tall, handsome stranger in the vicinity during the time of the shootings. It was said that the man, who was accompanied by another stranger, appeared to be clean cut, well-dressed and courteous to the residents of the tight-knit Kentland neighborhood. The neighborhood women especially remembered the charming out-of-towner as being quite generous with both money and flattery, and left an indelible impression on most of the love-struck young ladies before leaving the area. Still though, even as a community so used to random acts of violence, was horrified by the brutality of the slayings that had occurred.
“I sure as hell hope they catch his bitch ass whoever he is, ‘cuz it was fucked up what he did to Mooka and them. Even if they had robbed ‘em and shit, they ain’t had to kill ‘em. Don’t make no damn sense,” TaKeisha said to Yasmin and Kee-Kee as they discussed the incident just after a breaking news report interrupted their daily, lunchtime episode of All of My Children.
“You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that shit, Keisha, ‘cuz you know how niggas go out in Kentland. Shit, by the time we get back home, dude gonna already be dead. Lil’ Tony, Dip, Kenny, and all them niggas g’on punish slim. I’m trying to tell you!”
Yasmin chimmed in. “Anyway, fuck all that shit. I’m trying to hit that beach before the sun goes down. Besides, it’s just too many fine ass men out there for me to miss out on. C’mon, girls. Let’s go. Fuck a Erica Kane right about now,” Yasmin exclaimed as she quickly hopped off the hotel bed en route to the door.
Smiling, TaKeisha motioned with a quick head gesture for Kee-Kee and Yasmin to go on without her. She explained that she’d catch up with them right after the soap opera ended as she badly wanted to see the conclusion of this latest and most gripping episode. All in all, the Virginia Beach getaway was a fun-filled, flirt fest for the three friends who thoroughly enjoyed their vacation and brought back a camcorder full of memorable footage for all to see.
By the end of July, Kee-Kee was once again heavily preoccupied by the weekly lure of booze-filled nightlife and shallow mid-summer flings with a wide variety of strange men. Often, this behavior led to heated arguments between Kee-Kee and Yasmin, but did little to keep the younger woman from running the streets. At the end of her rope with her sister’s increasingly reckless sex life, Yasmin called upon TaKeisha, asking her to talk some sense into Kee-Kee. TaKeisha agreed to have the much-needed talk with her best friend. TaKeisha invited Kee-Kee over to her house feigning interest in accompanying her to one of her frequent hangouts, only to lay into her once she’d gotten comfortable on the soft, plush, sleigh bed in TaKeisha’s room.
“You know what, Kee-Kee, you been hangin’ out at all these clubs like every other day and shit. Don’t you think that you are like overdoing it a little?”
“Naw, young. I ain’t overdoin’ nothing. I’m just havin’ fun and shit. That’s all. You know, enjoying the summer, that’s all. Why you trippin’?”
