by Darrell King
“Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Goddammit!” Lt. Williams hollered above the din of the machine gunfire.
When the gunfire stopped at last, a S.W.A.T. officer found the switch to the hallway light and flicked it on, revealing a horrific scene of bloody carnage before them. Seven bullet-riddled bodies lay mangled along the blood soaked floor with their handguns lying close by where they all fell, fatally wounded. Five men and two women were among the shooting victims. For ten minutes the cops searched the apartment with careful attention to detail. Several thousand dollars worth of narcotics were recovered, as well as a trunk filled with semi-automatic weapons and unopened packages of ammunition with fresh, shiny clips. Detective Goehring called for the coroner to respond and had Lt. Williams and his officers seal off the crime scene with bright yellow and black plastic tape while several other S.W.A.T. officers cleared the immediate tenement building of the scores of curious onlookers who’d gathered outside the door and all around apartment 1313 to catch a glimpse of the aftermath from the terrible gun battle which shattered the peace of their sleepy community.
Meanwhile, only a few miles up Route 202 in the community of Kentland Village, TaKeisha Goddard was awakened from a deep and peaceful morning sleep by the continuously ringing telephone on her nearby nightstand. She had been dreaming … dreaming of she and Kee-Kee laughing together with carefree happiness and enjoying the attention of handsome guys, just before her pleasant night vision was shattered by the shrill, annoying pulse of the phone. She reached out groggily from under her bed sheets for the steadily ringing phone, her fingers fumbled around briefly before landing on the receiver and lifting it off the cradle and to her ear.
“Hello,” she answered with a tone tinged with both drowsiness and irritation.
She was greeted by silence, a long silence, lasting nearly an entire fifteen seconds before the caller on the other end finally spoke.
“TaKeisha, you need not to be talkin’ to dem polices, feel me? ‘Cuz dat some hot shit you doin’ right bout now … cut that ole bullshit out befo’ you get yo lil’ young ass dealt with!”
The line went dead, emitting nothing but a monotonous drone to which TaKeisha hung up immediately. TaKeisha spent over twenty-five minutes frantically trying to find out the identity of the caller who’d just issued a chilling threat against her person. She contacted the operator who could not help her at all. She dialed *69, but to her frustration, all of her efforts were unsuccessful. Once again the phone rang. She checked the caller I.D., but it read “unavailable.” TaKeisha felt a sense of fear as she simply sat wrapped up in her satin bed sheets with her back up against the oak wall headboard of her queen-sized bed watching the phone ring several times before her answering machine automatically took over.
“Hi, this is TaKeisha. I’m not available right now, but if you’ll be so kind as to leave your name, number, and the time of your call, I promise you that I will get up with you as soon as possible. Thank you. Bye.” Bleeep.
“Damn, girl. You stay gone, don’t you? And it’s only ten minutes after seven in the morning. Guess I’m on military time. I hope you’re not out doin’ God knows what. Just kidding, little sis. I know you were raised better than that. Anyway, it’s your big brother. Hit me up later around about two or two thirty this afternoon. I’ll be at Fort Detrick. Bye.”
TaKeisha breathed a long sigh of relief that it was just her brother and not the unknown previous caller.
By the time dusk fell on the Beltway region, Lt. Williams’ taskforce, with the help of Detective Goehring’s detailed leads, rounded up over a dozen crack dealers spread throughout Landover, Landover Hills, and Lanham, all of whom had been linked to the suspect Lucien Valentino.
At 11:47 p.m. that night, a code red, ten-ninety-nine was issued at Jessup’s maximum security wing, A tier, cellblock #A26. Inmate #418814A was found lying nude, face down on the floor of his cell. Blood seeped from out of several dozen-stab wounds that were to be found all over his naked form. Blood covered the floor of the shadowy prison cell and leaked out from under the door of the enclosure and out into the hall where it puddled into an icky-looking red pool. Two correctional officers attempted to save Thomas Broome’s life via first aid as they awaited help from the nearby paramedics.
“Broome, we gonna help you, baby, awiight? You just gotta hold on for me ‘cuz the medical team is on the way right now. But you gotta fight, okay?” one of the guards said to Broome as he worked feverishly to stop the blood loss by cauterizing and patching the wounds of the critically injured criminal.
“Fuck all dat doctor shit you talkin’, nigga. I’m bout to die … I know dat and so do you … it’s awiight though. It’s all part o’ da game, champ,” Broom said as he spat blood. “I done peeled many a niggas’ cap back in my day. I knew it wouldn’t be but a matter o’ time befo’ I fucked around and got got. Know what I’m sayin’? But befo’ I die, I’m bringin’ dat bitch ass nigga Valentino down, Slim. That triflin’ bamma been runnin’ up in bitches raw knowin’ he got that shit. Plus, he done called me at least three times this past week talkin’ bout some lil’ young’un he tryin’ to take out … the way the nigga describe the broad I think it’s the lil’ bitch that P.G. County detective brought up here a lil’ while ago. If you know what I know, you better tell P.G. to get that lil’ young’un some protection or else she’s gonna get her shit pushed back … believe that!”
The medics arrived seconds after Thomas Broome finished his eye opening revelation right after he also disclosed that it was none other than his so-called friend, Lucien Valentino, who’d arranged for him to be attacked while in prison. Valentino obviously had the money and power to order such a hit. Broome was sent to the Shock Trauma Unit at the University of Maryland where he lingered between life and death for ten days, finally succumbing to his wounds on the 8th day of May 1998, at 10:11 a.m. Thomas Broome had been a monster during most of his life, yet he’d become something of a hero at the end of his lawless existence with a simple disclosure of knowledge that would prove to be invaluable in the HIV5X case.
***
At 9:26 p.m. on May 11, 1998, TaKeisha Goddard had just gotten out of her new Ford Mustang when she took the keys and made her way across the walkway towards her front door. The young woman had no idea that she’d been followed. She’d spent most of the day at work at Riverdale’s Department of Agriculture and had stopped past a local supermarket in order to pick up a few groceries in order to prepare a surprise meal for her big brother when he arrived home later on that night.
As TaKeisha approached the door of her mother’s Kentland home, the darkened interior and the empty parking spot revealed that her mother had stepped out. The girl fumbled around with the crowed key chain dangling loosely from her leather handbag before finally extracting the correct key from among the jingling, silvery bunch.
Slowly, with a momentary groan, just as TaKeisha stepped inside with an armful of grocery bags, she instinctively reached her hand out towards the wall to the light switch. The overhead ceiling lamp flickered briefly, and then illuminated the beautifully furnished area with a soft white glow. Suddenly, the room went dark and a strong pair of hands seized her aggressively from behind, clasping both her mouth as well as her torso pulling her up against a wall, nearby the door slammed shut with a noisy thud. The girl’s eyes went wide with terror as her attacker emerged from the shadows while throwing her down to the floor and kneeling across her as she laid helpless beneath him.
“Don’t try to fight back, bitch, cause I don’t wanna kill you … at least not yet. All I wanna do is fuck the shit outta you. ‘Cuz if you don’t already know, I got whatcha call HIV5X … some super killa AIDS type shit. Once I get through shovin’ dick up in you, it’ll be a done deal, boo. You’ll be dead in a coupla months and I’ll be long gone. You see, you shouldn’t have been runnin’ your muthafuckin’ mouth to them police and shit about shit you don’t know nothin’ about. Now, your lil’ snitchin’ ass about to catch AIDS and die just li
ke your girls, Yasmin and Kee-Kee. How ‘bout that?” snarled Valentino into the frightened girl’s ear as he unbuckled his jeans while fighting to remove the panties from a desperately fighting TaKeisha.
Although the Landover native was an athletic, robust and feisty young lady, her best efforts at self-defense were no match for the brawn of the rapist who pinned her. As both of Valentino’s hands were occupied with vehemently forcing apart TaKeisha’s legs, she screamed out with bloodcurdling frenzy. Yet it did not prevent him from following through with his sexual assault of the twenty-four-year-old. The girl kicked wildly and attempted to bite her attacker as he forcefully penetrated her.
His erect, infected member pumped into her with reckless abandon, bringing himself to an overwhelming orgasm that caused Valentino to shudder with gratifying release as he quickly withdrew his dripping manhood from TaKeisha’s cum-filled vagina.
“Now, take that one for the team, bitch!” Valentino quipped as he arose, readjusting himself and pulling up his pants. “You know what else? Since I done roughed you off, you ain’t worth shit to nobody now. Any damn way … I ain’t never raped no bitch befo’, but I tell you what … it’s been jive aiight though. But I can’t let you live like this, so I’m about to put you outta your misery, aiight?”
Valentino pulled out a nickel-plated, chrome nine-millimeter that glistened silvery and metallic within the yellow light of the outside street lamp’s glow that was filtering in through the blinds and sheer curtains of the bay window to the rear of the house. TaKeisha huddled, whimpering pitifully in the corner near the large leather couch among the scattered fruit, broken eggs, and assorted canned goods of the overturned grocery bags. She begged for her life through streaming tears as Valentino gently stroked her soft, supple cheek and neatly cornrowed locks. He placed a loaded clip into the handgun.
“Don’t cry, baby girl. It won’t hurt at all. I’m tryin’ to tell you I’m gonna put two in your dome piece and it’s a wrap after that. Trust me, you ain’t gonna feel shit,” the rapist said, snickering with evil delight.
Just before Valentino could commit murder, he heard the blaring of what seemed like a multitude of police squad cars racing down Landover Road. Also, there was a series of loud banging outside the front door. The next door neighbors no doubt had overheard the screaming and raucous commotion going on inside and came over to investigate.
“TaKeisha! Mrs. Goddard! It’s Earl and Lewis … are you all aiight?” the young men barked outside as the sirens wailed even closer.
“Help me! Oh, God! Please somebody help me!” TaKeisha cried out at the top of her lungs.
Instantly, the strapping young men crashed into the door, which not being locked, gave way to their combined weight.
“What the fuck, nigga?! Back your bitch ass up off o’ TaKeisha!” snarled the neighbor, Earl Givens, who’d flicked on the living room lights.
Without responding, Valentino raised his weapon away from TaKeisha’s forehead and toward the broad shouldered dark-complexioned teen with fury written on his face who rushed toward him from across the living room floor. The pistol recoiled violently after discharging two slugs into the chest and abdomen of the hard-charging teenager. Given’s body lurched backward as he absorbed the shock of the two bullets that tore into his upper and tower torso. He careened backwards onto the floor and twitched with rapid jerks as his blood seeped into the carpet, staining it a sickly crimson. He was dead within seconds after he’d fallen.
“You, back the fuck up! And go outside to the parking lot, muthafucka! ‘Cuz you about to come with me right about now … come on!” Valentino shouted out at Lewis Woodworth, who stood in the entrance of the doorway shell-shocked.
Lewis, with his mouth agape, was still in a state of utter disbelief behind the cold-blooded murder of his best friend. Valentino raced over to the door yanking the sinewy adolescent along by the scruff of his neck and pushed him out towards the parking lot, leaving the abused TaKeisha behind.
With the brightly flashing lights and howling sirens of the P.G. County police less than a few blocks away, Valentino hastened toward an elderly couple pulling up into the parking lot in a white Dodge Ram van. Without hesitation, Valentino forced himself into the backseat of the van, pressing the pistol to the head of the surprised old man as his wife shrieked with fright.
“Get your monkey ass up outta here old man! I need for you to take Martin Luther King Highway toward DC and don’t stop ‘til I tell you to! You get in the seat next to me, right her, young’un. And grandma, you needs to shut the fuck up with all that damn cryin’ and shit befo’ I pimp slap your old ass, aiight?” Valentino growled.
The seventy-five-year old driver obediently backed out of the parking lot and proceeded out of Kentland Village and he headed towards MLK Highway in the nick of time, eluding the police. As the van left the parking lot at a steady clip, the entire neighborhood soon was alive with dozens of squad cars with sirens blaring and lights blinking incandescently. Scores of uniformed cops exited the vehicles with their service revolvers drawn as they descended upon the Goddard’s home, which was now considered a crime scene. It was there that they discovered a still weeping TaKeisha Goddard alone, soiled, and petrified while the dead body of her eighteen-year-old neighbor lay sprawled out, bloodied and stiff, but a few feet way.
The young woman was comforted by a female officer as another cop radioed in for an ambulance and coroner. The police also surrounded Valentino’s car, a metallic bronze 1998 Mitsubishi Eclipse GS with tinted windows, left abandoned at the far right side of the large neighborhood parking lot. The biological murderer had long since sold his BMW and now he’d left his newly acquired vehicle. The police were oblivious as to his current whereabouts. They knew that they’d have to quickly place an all points bulletin to police departments and satellite offices throughout the county before Valentino escaped across the state lines into bordering Washington, DC or Virginia.
Chapter 10
The intentional transmission of HIV/AIDS is considered a crime in many countries. One of modern history’s most shocking cases of criminal transmission involved the case of Brian Stewart, an Illinois-based medical student. Stewart deliberately injected his own young son with HIV-tainted blood so that the child’s inevitable death would free him from child support, stating coldly that the boy would not survive past five years of age.
TaKeisha Goddard was whisked away by a speeding ambulance towards the Prince George’s County Hospital. Once she’d arrived, the paramedics immediately rushed TaKeisha into a very active emergency room where several doctors quickly took to attending her. Several hours later, the young Ms. Goddard awakened to the comforting presence of her older brother, Edward Goddard, who sat but a few inches away from her bedside. Though she was somewhat weak from the earlier attack in conjunction to the sedatives, which had been administered to her by the medical staff, she still reached out to her brother and embraced him tightly while sobbing bitterly in his arms for quite some time.
Edward tried his best to be strong for his beloved baby sister for whom he felt grief that was at the time beyond description. He felt fully responsible for the suffering of so many which now included his own flesh and blood. He hadn’t anticipated anything as nightmarish as this. The only things that mattered when he originally took on the responsibility of administering the serum Biomax-O to Valentino, were the riches and fame promised to him by the Illuminati elitists working clandestinely within the scientific hierarchy of the U.S. Army and the World Health Organization. However, that was long before he’d had a chance to actually witness the pure evil of not only the program itself, but of its chosen volunteer, who seemed to relish in bedding as many woman as he possibly could with little or no regard for the dire consequences which would befall them soon afterward. And it dawned on him that as a result of his lust for ill-gotten wealth and career goals he, along with the neo-Nazi scientists, was fully responsible for developing the dreaded elixer that had now unleashed upon the world this
new nuclear warhead of viruses, the lethal HIV5X. It was not long before he broke down, crying right along with his sister.
TaKeisha underwent a battery of medical tests in order to determine whether or not she’d contracted the deadly HIV5X during the rape. She received the unpleasant results of the reexaminations; she had indeed tested positive for the swift moving mutated form of HIV. The physicians at the P.G. County Hospital felt impotent and helpless to assist the distraught young woman in the wake of such a monstrous terminal disease. Edward Goddard knew without a second thought what actions had to be taken in order to save his sister’s life. Edward allowed his sister to sleep, for she was still both emotionally and physically spent from the events of the past few hours.
The following afternoon, on May 12, TaKeisha was discharged from the county hospital. As she was driven home, her brother informed her of his decision to cure her. TaKeisha listened intently as her brother divulged every single detail of the covert and illegal “Operation: Inner City Virus,” as well as his role in the development and distribution of the highly controversial, untested drug known as Biomaximus Officinalis. During his disclosure of his government-funded experiment, he told of his secretive meeting with former Gulf War hero turned dope pusher, Lucien Valentino. While his sister continued to listen with slack-jawed disbelief, Edward described the violence, tyranny and fear that his hood-rich host visited upon both his enemies as well as employees, and at one particular occasion, even Edward himself.
By the time they pulled up into the driveway of a luxurious Lanham Hilton Grand Hotel, where they checked into while the police continued to treat their Kentland house as a crime scene, TaKeisha’s head was spinning. When they entered the spacious hotel suite, their mother, Olivia, greeted them. Eddie again had to go through the difficult and exhaustive process of repeating his story of covert government operations, experimental drugs and a virulent new strain of AIDS known as HIV5X and the fugitive responsible for purposely spreading it amongst the local black population at will, creating the current medical state of emergency within the community.
