Martin did not speak. Dr. Kasim had just confessed to a serious crime with the ease of delivering a punch line. True, the offense had occurred decades ago, but as far as Martin knew there was no statute of limitations on kidnapping and slavery. And what troubled Martin more was that Damon, Solomon, Tobias, Kwame, and Carver all appeared to be comfortable with Dr. Kasim’s confession.
“You look shocked,” Dr. Kasim said to Martin.
“Shouldn’t I be? If that story’s true—”
Dr. Kasim smiled. “I’m an old man. I might get some of the details mixed up but the good parts, like the first time I slapped chains on that white bastard, I never get wrong.”
“That’s a very serious crime. Why tell me about it?”
“Because you asked about the black noise.”
“I still haven’t heard anything about any black noise.”
“But you have. That uneasiness and resistance that you’re feeling right now, that’s a normal reaction when you begin to become conscious of the noise.”
“But I don’t hear any damn noise,” Martin snapped.
Dr. Kasim waggled his pipe at Martin. “Annoyance is also a typical reaction. Your mind wants to shut down, but you must fight that impulse. You must keep your thoughts open until I finish my story. Can you do that, brother?”
“Believe me, I’m trying. But all I’ve heard so far is you talking.”
Dr. Kasim nodded. “Sometimes you don’t notice a thing until it’s gone. And that’s exactly what happened to me. Back when I had my first farm, the only time I would have any contact with white men was when I’d have to go into town to buy seeds or supplies from their stores. A black man would have to be careful of what kind of mood he caught a white man in. Sometimes a white man would treat you like anybody else and charge you a fair price. Sometimes they’d treat you mean and jack up the price just because you were a Negro. And sometimes they’d just refuse to transact business with you at all. I used to dread these encounters because it made me, one of the most successful farmers in the county, feel like I was less than a man. I wouldn’t even look those white men in the eye too long for fear that they’d take it the wrong way. But after Junior stole my farm and then I stole him, something about me changed. Over the years, as I forced Junior to work my land, I began to notice a profound change in my personality. Gradually, when I would go into town, I would deal with those white men with more and more confidence. My manner became firm and more direct. I would hold my head up high and look those white men straight in the eye. And the odd thing was, no matter what mood those men were in, they never took offense. All of a sudden they were treating me with respect. It was as if something inside their subconscious was responding to whatever had changed in me. But what was it? What about me had changed? Looking back now, the answer seems perfectly obvious, but back then I had to think on the problem for a long time before I solved the mystery.” Dr. Kasim tapped his temple. “That constant black noise in my head that had drowned out my pride and humanity—it was suddenly gone. That’s what had changed in me.”
“That still doesn’t explain what black noise is,” Martin said.
Dr. Kasim fixed Martin with an intense stare, a lifetime of wisdom pouring out of his ancient eyes. “Black noise is screams,” the doctor said, his voice grim. “The screams of our kidnapped, enslaved, tortured, raped, and murdered ancestors crying out for vengeance.”
Dr. Kasim’s sudden intensity caused Martin to draw back, like he was avoiding a blast of heat from a roaring fire. He saw the other men nod in agreement.
“The screams of our ancestors haunt every black man’s soul,” Dr. Kasim said, with sorrow in his voice, “a constant reminder that the white man not only conquered our forefathers but robbed them of their humanity. And because of this burden of shame and humiliation, deep down every man of African descent, no matter how rich or powerful, harbors a poisonous seed of doubt that he is truly equal to the white man. Even worse, a fear of the white man.”
Martin was quiet a moment. “I don’t feel that way,” he said at last, with deep thought. “I do not feel inferior to white people.”
Dr. Kasim gave a dismissive grunt. “Of course you’d deny it. What kind of man would admit that he’s inferior to another man? But if your mind was truly open, you’d see that what I’m telling you is true. The black noise is very real. Working in the background, holding you and every other black man back like an invisible leash. Only once you recognize it, only then can you learn how to quiet it.”
Martin pondered this a moment. “And how do you do that?” he asked.
“That is what I had stumbled upon when I made Junior my slave,” Dr. Kasim said. “My tiny act of revenge had appeased the black noise. Now whenever I faced a white man, I could look him dead in the eye, because I’d taken an action to avenge my race. I wasn’t a victim any longer, groveling at the feet of my conqueror. Suddenly, I could stand toe-to-toe with the white man on the same playing field because now I was his equal. Those screams of my ancestors were replaced by the pleas of that white man chained up in my barn.” Dr. Kasim leaned closer and laid a fatherly hand on Martin’s shoulder. “Brother, until you quiet the noise in your head, you will never be able to look a white man in the eye with genuine pride. And because of that, you will never achieve your full potential.”
Damon, Solomon, Tobias, Kwame, and Carver all blew smoke and threw back drinks. “Amen to that,” Tobias said.
Martin turned his gaze back to the doctor. It still didn’t make sense. “You’re saying that in order for a black man to reach his true potential, he has to keep a white man prisoner in his basement?”
Dr. Kasim made a face. “Come now. Think about it, brother. Could men such as these, men under constant scrutiny, get away with something like that?”
“No,” Martin replied, detecting a disingenuous tone in the doctor’s voice. “That would be crazy.”
“Indeed it would,” Dr. Kasim whispered.
“But according to your theory, it takes an act of vengeance to get rid of the black noise. An act of vengeance against a white man.”
“Oh, it’s not a theory, brother.” Dr. Kasim gestured to the surrounding books in his library. “I could show you countless published studies on the ill effects of abject injustice on the human psyche. Depression, diminished self-worth, lower IQs, suicide, even erectile dysfunction. I could show you a dozen more papers by esteemed psychologists on how revenge is an essential human trait. A primal instinct as innate and necessary as reproduction. It’s even in the Bible. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” Dr. Kasim shook his head. “No, Martin. What I teach is not a theory. It’s a fact.”
Martin glanced around at the other men. They were all staring at him expectantly. Martin wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt afraid to ask his next question.
“So if you guys are not keeping slaves in your basements or attics, how did you do it? How did you get rid of the black noise?”
In perfect unison Damon, Solomon, Tobias, Kwame, and Carver all turned to Dr. Kasim, as if they would not dare answer without his permission. To see such powerful men behave so obsequiously toward the enigmatic old man filled Martin with dread. Dr. Kasim simply nodded to Damon, then Damon turned to Martin and smiled. It was a smile full of anticipation. And that smile scared Martin to the core. It scared him because even before Damon uttered a word, Martin knew without a shred of doubt that there was something really wrong at Forty Acres. Something so wrong that they had to hide it way out in the middle of nowhere and protect it with a private army. Suddenly Martin did not want to know the answer to his question. But it was too late.
CHAPTER 43
We get rid of the black noise by coming here,” Damon said, spreading his hands in a welcoming manner. “By spending time here, at Forty Acres.”
The meaning of Damon’s words took a moment to crystalize. Martin knew that there was something off
about Forty Acres and he had braced himself for a shock, but nothing could have prepared him for the terrible truth that finally crashed down on him. He gasped. He was so stunned that he felt dizzy. He set his drink down and buried his face in his hands.
“You okay, son?” Solomon asked.
Martin ignored Solomon. Instead, he lifted his head and turned to face Dr. Kasim. Stared at the old man with a tempest of disbelief in his eyes. Martin tried to ask the question that had to be asked next, but the words just wouldn’t come. Perhaps it was because he already knew the answer.
Dr. Kasim raised a hand, gently silencing Martin, then in a proud voice said, “Yes, brother. Here at Forty Acres black men are the masters . . . and the whites are our slaves.”
Martin did something that surprised even himself. He laughed. He laughed at the insanity and impossibility of that moment. He laughed because it was too absurd to be true. Martin glanced at the other men, hoping that they’d start laughing too. Waiting for Damon to slap him on the back and tell him that this madness was just another one of Dr. Kasim’s dark jokes.
“We know how you feel right now,” Dr. Kasim said. “Your first reaction will be horror. Outrage. Maybe even hatred. But you now have to think past all that. You have to see the bigger picture. What we do is not personal or about individuals. It’s about making the white race pay for its unpunished crimes against the black race. For too long the modern black man has let his ancestors down. We live in comfort upon the graves of our forefathers who suffered unspeakably and were never avenged. What we do here at Forty Acres isn’t for selfish reasons. It is a duty that we are privileged to bear. A duty to free our minds of that noise by any means necessary, and to use that freedom to become strong black men. Men who can lead our people out of the trash heap of human history that we have been tossed in. And maybe one day all black men will be able to quiet that terrible noise in their minds and hold their heads up with true pride. Don’t just react, my brother. Remember, you’ve been programmed by the white man to ignore the black noise. But I’m telling you to listen now. Really listen to them!” Dr. Kasim leaned forward and gripped Martin’s shoulder. His voice was soothing. “Are you going to ignore the screams of millions of your ancestors, or will you join us?”
Martin did not respond. The shock and confusion he felt had the effect of short-circuiting his mind. Everything Dr. Kasim said made sense in a strange way. And even though Martin felt that what they were doing was wrong, he had to ask himself, Do I feel it’s wrong because, like Dr. Kasim said, I’ve been programmed? By not seeking vengeance, am I really betraying my ancestors? Damon, Solomon, Tobias, Carver, and Kwame were all smart men and they followed Dr. Kasim’s philosophy. They had to be seeing something that Martin couldn’t see. Was it really programming that caused him to hesitate, or was it just common sense?
Damon and the other men began to lay comforting hands on Martin’s shoulders. “This is the toughest part,” Damon said. “The doubt that you are feeling now is almost impossible to deny. The brainwashing is so deep that you can’t see past it.”
Then Solomon spoke. “That’s why you have to trust us. You will never stop thinking it’s wrong until you accept it. Once you accept it and the noise is gone from your head, then you will see the good of it.”
Each encouraging squeeze of the shoulder, each lulling word, tugged at Martin’s will, coaxing Martin deeper and deeper into their arcane brotherhood. And it would be so easy to go along, so easy to allow himself to be drawn into the fold. He’d be a member of a wealthy and powerful fraternity bound by a secret so great that the loyalty they shared would be limitless. The life-changing benefits of such a relationship were incalculable. Not just for him but for Anna and their future children as well. And the price of membership was equally seductive. All he had to do was embrace Dr. Kasim’s ideology. It shouldn’t be difficult, since Martin believed there was some truth to the old doctor’s “black noise” idea. Did Martin’s self-esteem whither every time he was around white folks? Absolutely not. But sometimes, when in the presence of Caucasian men, he did feel something. A hint of self-consciousness similar to the way one feels when standing before a person you highly respect. A fleeting, unwarranted desire for approval. Martin had no idea if other black men shared this experience, but for him it was real. Indeed, the more Martin pondered it, the more certain he became that Dr. Kasim might be onto something important—a poltergeist in the African American psyche that should be discussed and studied. But the old doctor, infected with hatred, wasn’t interested in research, only revenge in the name of overdue justice. And that’s where Martin drew the line. Kidnapping and enslaving innocent people because of ills committed by their forefathers seemed a greater crime than the original offense. Martin was proud to be a member of the black race, but first and foremost he was a member of the human race. What was true hundreds of years ago was still true today and will forever be true.
Enslaving another human being was an unredeemable act of evil.
It couldn’t be justified by wrapping it up in some easily swallowed philosophical claptrap. Dr. Kasim and his followers had become the very thing they professed to hate.
And with that conclusion came a rise of anger inside Martin. Anger because men he held in such high esteem had revealed themselves to be criminals. And criminals of the lowest sort. Criminals of hate. Anger because they offered to make him a coconspirator in a crime against humanity as if they were doing him some great favor. But most of all, he felt anger because Damon and his fucked-up friends believed that he was like them.
Martin glared at Damon. A glare that screamed, Where the hell have you brought me?
Damon’s response was a patient smile. “It’s all right, Martin. You’ll see.”
It’s all right? Martin had an urge to leap up and strangle him, but Dr. Kasim reached out and squeezed Martin’s hand. “Brother, please do not allow this decision to cause you any undo stress. Whatever you decide will be perfectly fine.”
The other men nodded.
Martin clenched his jaw and looked the old doctor square in the eye. Martin was about to reject their insane offer flat out when he was startled by a voice behind him.
“Of course, Mr. Grey, if you choose not to accept, we assume that you can be trusted to protect our secret.”
Martin turned and saw Oscar looming behind him. With all the strange turns the evening had taken, Martin had forgotten that Dr. Kasim’s right-hand man was even in the room. But now Oscar’s frigid gaze struck Martin like a bucket of ice water, effectively dousing Martin’s anger. In that eye-opening instant another emotion began to take hold. Fear. Is this what happened to Donald Jackson? Did Jackson reject Dr. Kasim’s mad philosophy? And in order to keep Jackson quiet did they—?
With shock, Martin realized that his life was in grave danger. There was no way that they would let him return home with this secret. Not these men. He realized that no matter what he thought about Forty Acres, there was only one answer that would get him back home to Anna alive.
Oscar’s impassive eyes remained fixed on Martin’s face. Reading him. Looking for any cracks. “We can count on your discretion, yes, Mr. Grey?”
“Of course,” Martin said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. To keep down the panic that he felt rising inside him.
“Of course he will,” Dr. Kasim said to Oscar in a dismissive tone. “I never doubted that for a second.” Dr. Kasim then turned back to Martin. His smile was so relaxed and inviting that it was almost hypnotic. “So tell me, brother, will you join my little country club or not?”
Martin knew that his answer had to be completely convincing. If they even suspected a little that he was faking it—
“You belong here, brother,” Kwame said. “Join us.”
“Kwame’s right,” Tobias said. “You must be a part of this.”
Damon looked sympathetic. “I know all this is freaking you out, Martin, but li
ke Solomon said, you just have to trust us.”
Could it really be that simple? Martin wondered. If he told them that he wanted in, would they simply believe him and issue him a membership card? It couldn’t be that easy.
Carver was out of patience. “Quit being so dramatic, Grey. You know you want in. Just spit it out already.”
While the others glared at Carver, Dr. Kasim maintained his grandfatherly guise. “Don’t let Carver influence you,” he said to Martin. “Whatever you decide will be fine. Just tell me your answer.”
Martin glanced at Carver, who was wearing his usual callous smirk. He nodded at Martin, urging him to answer. In fact, Carver almost appeared too eager. This told Martin everything he needed to know.
Martin stood up and turned to Dr. Kasim. “My answer is no! Hell no! This whole place is insane and all of you are out of your fucking minds!”
CHAPTER 44
When Martin saw Dr. Kasim and the other men react with smiles and laughter to his rejection, he knew that he had chosen the correct response. Any rational man who would so readily agree to enlist himself in such a drastic and illegal conspiracy had to be lying or a fool. Martin had to let the script of their seduction run its course. Allow them to believe that they had drawn him into their cabal with persuasion; then they would be convinced. Just as Martin had expected, Dr. Kasim and the other men assured him that his reaction was perfectly normal. Martin put up a small show of resistance, but finally he allowed himself to be cajoled into retaking his seat.
“You must understand that the conflict you feel is just a result of the programming,” Dr. Kasim said. “It’s the fear the white man put into your mind of your own blackness.”
Martin shook his head wearily. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to think.”
“The question is how does it make you feel. The story I told you about the Zantu, about how you are a direct descendant of an extinct tribe. How did that make you feel?”
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