Delroy Campbell was most importantly a powerful man. Everyone knew it, all across the oceans. They knew that he was the one who made all of the decisions. It didn't matter who you were, whether it was a politician, a soldier, a police officer, or even just a tree trimmer, they all recognized the power he possessed. It was different than most power. It wasn't given to him or trusted to him. He took it for himself, and he made it grow. It was still growing. He was considered a big man, but not just for his size, but for the shadow that he cast over everything and anything that happened in Jamaica and throughout the Caribbean.
Delroy Campbell was all of these things—patient, smart, and powerful—and that was what made him the Wharf Man.
So Delroy sat at his desk, listening to updates about all of his business dealings. From the drug running, to the human trafficking, to the racketeering. His business was frowned upon and even illegal, but no one dared try to stop him. They all knew their place. They knew not to get in the way of the Wharf Man's dealings. It was a wonderful thing to be that feared, but it also made things boring at times, and as he listened to each one, he realized that it wasn't the pieces of business he wanted to hear most.
All of those things he was being told were so normal. They were his everyday money. They were the way that he controlled things. They were the very fabric of the web he weaved throughout the entire island. They were the usual fair.
The only piece of business he really had a current interest in was the one that he had heard nothing about since it started. Since he last saw that broke ass billionaire sail off on one of his boats. That David Purdue, promising him a cut of an old pirate's treasure. It was an exciting deal, if only to see if there was actually any truth to it all. Delroy hoped there was, because if there was, he wasn't going to be settling for any measly thirty percent. A man of his status didn't settle for that, especially not when it was being offered by a poor man with nothing left to his name.
Still, that David Purdue did get him thinking. He got him thinking a lot actually. He was a fascinating man to do business with because he literally had nothing else left to lose. It had all been taken by some enemy that he was mysteriously vague about. Some secret society of rich people in Europe or something, it didn't matter to Delroy. The only thing that mattered to him was the here and now.
The past meant nothing, that's what David Purdue—Mr. Yesterday—didn't understand.
If the past mattered, then Delroy would still just be a big, plump boy begging for scraps, begging for work, and begging for some love. He would still be beat by his father and shamed by his mother. He would still be getting his ass beat every day.
It was all different now. The past made no difference anymore. He might as well have been a different person, and in a way he was. The Wharf Man’s name was one he wasn't very happy with at first. It didn't quite have the intensity that he would like to give off. Slowly, however, he came around to it, when he saw just how much fear it put into the people on his island. It was simple enough that it left them guessing at what exactly he was.
And now—now it was the only name they knew him by.
Delroy Campbell was a name that had been forgotten on the island. The ones who knew it never spoke it anymore. The Wharf Man had become synonymous with Jamaica. He was probably the most famous man in the whole country, but he wasn't on the front page of the newspaper or the cover of a magazine. The Wharf Man was famous, but no one cheered his name. He was a man of whispers and rumors. The wise man people would come to when they needed help, his guidance, or a favor.
Just like David Purdue had. He had heard that name—the Wharf Man. He had coming looking for him, to help dig him out of the grave that he was going to be buried in, if he didn't get his life back together. And Delroy, being a patient man, listened to Purdue's request for aid. And being a smart man, he considered what a deal with a man like David Purdue could bring. And being a powerful man, he decided that David Purdue would find that treasure, and he would give all of it to him or die.
If that treasure did exist, it belonged the Wharf Man.
Beside him, his radio started to crackle, and he hushed his subordinates telling him about the day's events. Their bullshit about some of their drugs being stolen would have to wait. Those girls on the sidewalk would have to wait. All of his usual business would have to wait because finally, after a long damn time, he was going to hear an update about the business he really cared about.
He'd given that radio to Alton to contact him once the treasure was found and not a moment before. He didn't want to hear anyone on that boat until they brought good news, not since he learned about the island actually existing. So the frequency coming in meant that the treasure was found. He expected Alton's joyful excitement to come through the crackles in the speaker. Instead, he heard another voice altogether.
It was Mr. Yesterday.
“Beautiful day, isn't it?”
Purdue stared at the radio in his hand. There was nothing for some time. A minute went by. Then maybe two or three minutes passed. It felt much longer to him, as he listened to the static.
The Wharf Man's voice boomed through the speaker. “It warms my heart to hear from you, Mr. Yesterday. I had feared the worst. How goes the preparations with the gold? Alton told me that you had found the island you believed it to be on.”
Purdue answered with a blunt retort. “It could have gone better.”
The radio was quiet again. The Wharf Man was probably waiting for Purdue's submission to the altered deal the twins had presented him. He probably thought that was the only possible reason for Purdue contacting him—a surrender—but Purdue wouldn't give him one. Not ever.
“Things took a bit of a hard turn when your men tried to kill me and the rest of the crew.”
A tangible awkwardness hung between the call, felt all the way across the ocean in the incredible distance between the two men, stretching miles and miles. It was Purdue's turn to wait for a response.
Finally one came when the Wharf Man let out a deep laugh. “You must be joking. What happened?”
Purdue gripped the radio tighter. The nerve of the Wharf Man ... the sheer arrogance to play dumb and laugh when he knew exactly why the twins had tried to kill Purdue. It was the same reason that Alton and Oniel had done anything in their lives—because the Wharf Man said to.
Purdue decided to just spell it out for his enemy. “Alton decided that all of the gold was yours and offered a new arrangement. That I shut my mouth and let you take it all. I politely refused the new deal. He got angry. Harsh words were said.” Purdue let the suspense linger. He made the Wharf Man wait before getting to the end. “So I stabbed him in the heart.”
The Wharf Man didn't bother with the silence this time. His response was immediate, and stunned. “You ... you did what?”
“Don't sound so surprised,” Purdue said. “He was seconds away from doing the same to me. All because you had your own plans to break our deal.”
Purdue felt his anger rising through his body. He wanted to yell and swear at this bastard for his treachery but he kept himself relatively composed. Watching the tides roll in on the beach helped sooth him enough to stay in check.
“Where is Oniel?” The Wharf Man asked, not denying the accusation of his involvement.
“That guy?” Purdue laughed and made sure that the Wharf Man heard it. “He's fine for now. I haven't quite decided what to do with him yet. Given his lack of a tongue, you obviously believe in strong punishments. So what do you suggest I do with someone like him? Same thing I did to his brother?”
“You will not touch him. You will not dare.” The Wharf Man was clearly rattled, and Purdue was beginning to understand just how strong of a pressure point he was pressing down on. The twins were practically sons to the crime boss. The Wharf Man may have been tough, but this was hurting him.
Purdue continued. “I thought we had an understanding. No backstabbing, remember? You kept saying that. Not to break the deal and no turning on one anot
her. No backstabbing! None! So tell me why the hell I feel like I'm pulling a knife out of my back right now? You get thirty percent. That was the deal we had. Then I'm hearing that you're actually getting one hundred percent and I should just be happy about it.”
That deep laugh returned through the radio.
“It was my boat. And my crew.”
“We had a deal,” Purdue maintained. “You didn't stick to it. So I don't have to anymore either.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean the second you broke the deal, you forfeited any and all claim you had on the treasure.” Purdue spoke the coordinates of the island. It felt strange in a way, to be giving away their location, but it was part of the plan that was brewing in his head. “You're welcome to come see for yourself, but you won't find much of anything. I'm taking it all. Every last coin. Come have a look ... and hell, maybe I'll leave Oniel here for you to pick up as a parting gift. You may not get any of the spoils but at least you'll have your boy back, aye? Oh, and I forgot to mention, your friend Siad has some pirates, aye? Well some of them came after us. There are a few here waiting for you as well. Another parting gift. Never say I never got you anything.”
“Think carefully about this,” the Wharf Man said, sounding uneasy.
“Oh, I have. Very carefully.”
“That crew ... my crew ... they will not stand for this. They won't let you—”
“They already have,” Purdue said. “And they don't work for you anymore, by the way. They don't need your handouts or your leftovers. They're done groveling at your feet for crumbs.”
The Wharf Man's rage simmered through the radio. He was a volcano on the verge of erupting. “You will not do this.”
“It's being done right now. We're taking it all.” It was a lie but it felt good to know that it was making the Wharf Man squirm.
The Wharf Man laughed again but there was no joy or amusement in it this time. Just pure, seething malice. He was a spoiled child who was being denied something for the first time. The big baby was ready to throw a tantrum.
“You are stealing from me, hmm? From me.”
“Not really,” Purdue said. “This gold was never yours and you tried to steal it from me first. So...”
“You will die for this,” the Wharf Man interrupted, on the brink of exploding. “You hear me? I will find you, wherever you go. You will die when I do. You understand me? Do you understand me?!”
“I understand,” Purdue said casually. “Good luck finding me. In the meantime, I'll enjoy my treasure.”
The Wharf Man's booming chuckle echoed once more, full of contempt and disbelief that someone was standing against his might.
“There will be no tomorrow for you, Mr. Yesterday. No tomorrow.”
Purdue clicked the radio off and let the sound of breaking waves flush out the threat that still lingered in the air.
Someone he hoped would be a powerful ally against the Black Sun was officially an enemy. He should have never worked with someone like the Wharf Man to begin with. And he should have especially never trusted him to keep his word.
At least his crew turned out far more reliable than their boss. Money may have been their only motivation, but that's how it was for most people in the world. Now it was that way for Purdue too. He needed money just like anyone else, and maybe with the information he had about Ogden's last missing treasure, he could get something even better than wealth.
It would be his next venture, and he just needed a crew. Hopefully, he already had one.
Delroy Campbell was a patient man, but now he lost his patience.
Delroy Campbell was a smart man, who had just been outmaneuvered.
Delroy Campbell was a powerful man, who had just been made powerless.
All because of David Purdue.
The Wharf Man let out a thunderous roar and flipped the desk in front of him. The few lieutenants he had in the room flinched and some even backed toward the door. They had seen their boss upset before, and they knew that his rampages could often end with blood and broken bones. Being anywhere near him in that state was like standing in front of a hurricane or a stampede of elephants. There was a high chance it was going to end badly.
The conversation played back in his head, and he had never had one like it before. For the first time, someone actually believed they could rip him off. Purdue really thought that he was going to get away with this, but he wouldn't. The Wharf Man would find him, drag him back to the shores of Jamaica, and tear out his spine just to show the world what happened to a man who thought that he was better than him. No one had ever spoken to him that way before. That arrogant Scottish bastard got one taste of wealth again and already he thought he was superior.
Not only that, but he murdered Alton, a boy who Delroy had raised. A boy who was, in everything but genetics, his son. Purdue took him. He took his life. No one was supposed to take anything from the Wharf Man. Anyone who did would suffer for it, and Purdue would certainly suffer.
“Sir,” one of his men, Fitzroy, said, slowly approaching. “Are you good?”
“Good?” The Wharf Man sneered. “Do I look good, Fitzroy? We have been robbed. He robbed us! He took Alton. He took Oniel. He took the crew. He took the gold! He took everything! After I gave him a ship and a crew, he stole from me!”
He was in a blind rage, one so severe that he could barely see the room around him. All he saw was that smug Scotsman who came crawling for help and now took from him.
And that crew, Aya and her sailors, they had betrayed him too. That was even worse than Purdue. He was an outsider who could be excused for not being aware of how things worked in Jamaica, but Aya ... beautiful Aya ... she should have known better. She did know better. And yet she betrayed him all the same. She would have to die first. He would make sure Purdue and her whole crew watched when he took her life. She had sworn loyalty to him like anyone else and had turned out to be nothing more than a rat.
They all thought they were going to be rich, no doubt. They thought David Purdue would give them a better offer. Perhaps he would, maybe he was really going to give them some of the treasure, but they should have realized that no amount of riches would matter if they betrayed the Wharf Man, because they would have no chance to even spend it. He would find them all, and he would make sure they remembered who they really worked for, before he fired them from his employment in the most brutal of ways. They were all treacherous fools who thought that they had a real choice. They wouldn't for long.
And Oniel—poor, quiet, Oniel—he had been tough on him, he would admit. Tearing his tongue from his mouth was undeniably the right thing to do at the time, but there were times when he missed his laughs. Unlike Alton, Oniel didn't try and pretend to be anything but what he really was, a killer bred to serve the Wharf Man. That was what he had raised those twin brothers to be. And while Oniel let his tongue get the better of him once, he was an even more efficient killer than his brother. As many liked to point out, Alton was the one that would stab you in the front. Oniel was the one that would stab you many times in the back. And now, that powerful duo, his right and left hands, had been divided.
He would never hear Alton's advice again. He would never be able to watch that boy carry out his orders with such swift severity, and sometimes showmanship. He would have to settle for Oniel's quiet, understated ability to complete tasks. That was, if he could rescue him from that godforsaken island.
“You took down those coordinates?” The Wharf Man barked.
“I did,” Fitzroy stammered and handed him a slip of paper with them on it. “Exactly as he said.”
“Good,” the Wharf Man mused, looking it over. “Get a ship prepared. We're going there immediately.”
“Why?” Fitzroy asked. “Didn't he say he took the treasure? We really going to go all that way for that lunatic, Oniel—?”
The Wharf Man grabbed Fitzroy by the face and squeezed down on his jawline. Fitzroy gasped and tried to pry the Wharf Man's hands
off, but his boss far outweighed him in the realms of power. He could pop his head like a cherry if he really wanted to. The Wharf Man took a hold of Fitzroy's tongue, pinching down on it. Fitzroy had tears in his eyes, remembering exactly what happened to someone who spoke when they shouldn't.
“Yes,” the Wharf Man said quietly. “We are going there for Oniel. Unlike you, Fitzroy, he has helped me many times over the years and we are going to reward him for his loyalty. Perhaps as a special gift, I will even give him your tongue to replace the one he's lost. He has earned it back, wouldn't you say?”
The Wharf Man relished the bloodshot fear in Fitzroy's eyes. That was the power that he could wield. It wasn't his physical strength that was scaring his subordinate. It was the fact that Fitzroy knew the Wharf Man could decide his fate with the flick of his risk, with a snap of his fingers, or with a single word. He could erase him from the world with a thought.
“P-p-please,” Fitzroy managed through the fingers that were clenching his face. “I'm. I'm sorry.”
“I know you are,” the Wharf Man said and pinched a little harder. “But you know I have to do this.”
“N-no! Plea—”
The Wharf Man pulled hard and Fitzroy let out a terrible shriek. The other lieutenants in the room all averted their eyes. None of them wanted to risk even looking at the Wharf Man in a way he might find insulting. The Wharf Man dropped Fitzroy to the ground, who was choking on his own blood and screaming. There was a possibility that he might not survive this injury, and the Wharf Man was always okay with that risk. If they did survive, like Oniel had, then that meant they still had some fight in them, and still some use to him.
“Yes we are going to go to that island. We're going to get Oniel off of there, and once we have him back, we are going to find David Purdue. We're going to find him and the crew he stole from me. We're going to kill them all one-by-one. Get every ship we have. I want every boat, every man, and we're going to find everyone that has stolen from me today. We will find them no matter where they hide, and we will make that man wish he never came to me for help.”
Order of the Black Sun Box Set 9 Page 36
