“I’m going to work hard…” said Admoss. “I’ll need a buck to coerce Pattra...”
“Pattra…?” Jonass seemed incredulous.
“Her brother… He hates Mathew and will take care of it…” Admoss was enthusiastic.
Jonass pulled his wallet, took two 100-dollar bills and gave them to Admoss.
* * *
She was not difficult to get, Mimosa. A gold chain, a watch, and a box of chocolate candy convinced her. The native Jamaican was better than the shopkeeper who slept like a child between her legs. Zealous messenger, Admoss did all he
could to make things work between the two lovers. Mimosa became quickly Jonass’ dedicated mistress.
The ringleader whose bloody actions echoed in four corners of the world promptly controlled the situation. Mimosa had carnal intercourse with him a week after the first contact. Coerced with money, brother Pattra became a fanatic sentinel. While her husband sold sugar and bread downtown, Mimosa had a good time with the impostor. Roaming around like spies, Admoss and Pattra prevented the slightest indiscretion.
Mathew became restless when he learned that his beloved wife was seen in the city with another man. In an effort to prevent a disaster, Pattra admonished his brother-in-law for a cruel lack of sensitivity. “Grandma is sick and Mimosa is taking care of her…” the toady complained stridently.
Unwilling to appear selfish, Mathew showed stoical resilience. After three weeks of unruly behavior, he decided to end his wife’s scandalous betrayal. With a deep, quivering voice, the shopkeeper ordered Mimosa to stop running around. Surprisingly, she obeyed and stayed home.
Mathew’s reaction offended Jonass, a gangster who usually got things done through sheer violence. He decided to inflict severe punishment upon the storeowner. Once more, his action proved he was capable of anything.
Shrugging off Admoss’ alarming advices warning him of terrible consequences, he teamed up with Pattra and ambushed the outraged husband. Seizing Mathew on the throat, he pummeled his head and face with a baton.
Rushed to a hospital and taken to the emergency service, the storeowner could not talk. His face bruises were so severe
Mimosa had trouble recognizing him. Unaware Adolph was
the perpetrator, she slipped away and spent the night with the gangster. Pattra and Admoss blamed her for letting the shopkeeper play a “dirty game.”
The two henchmen talked wildly about Adolph’s immense fortune. The “philanthropist” had promised that, after her divorce from Mathew, he would take Mimosa to a Switzerland chalet and consecrate their union in a fairytale wedding. Young and vulnerable, she blindly obeyed her new master.
Jonass demanded that she stopped sharing Mathew’s bed, saving her body and soul for the man who laid a fortune at her feet. She promised to follow his orders but continued to live in the couple’s home.
Nervous and angry, Mathew wanted to know what had happened to his beautiful wife. Pattra answered the baby needed a break.
“A break...? What kind of break…?” yelled Mathew.
“She had suffered enough…” replied Pattra. “She is not happy…”
Mathew felt something fishy was going on and asked to leave the hospital, but the doctor warned him his face could remain altered forever. Frightened, the shopkeeper retired into his shell.
After two weeks in intensive care, he returned home but did not find Mimosa. “Where is she, Goddammit…” he screamed like a madman.
Out of control, he went to the Police Department and demanded that they began a speedy search for his missing wife. The desk officer looked at him and sniggered mockingly, “You sucker… Mimi is with Momo…”
“What did you say?” he looked at the officer and shook his head nervously.
“I don’t know, man… Your wife called and anticipated your visit… She asks you to leave her alone!” the officer answered in a blunt tone.
Locked up in a donjon, a few blocks from her husband’s residence, Mimosa was under tight control. Mathew’s lethal reputation did not seem to preoccupy her. Jonass’ bravado made her feel safe. The fact the former swindler showed no reluctance to keep her around made her believe in the most unrealistic promises. Adolph was so rich and clean… The millionaire’s boldness and bravery revealed exceptional character: just what was needed to stop her husband’s vicious interferences.
Pattra and Admoss showed tact and vigilance. The gangster galvanized them with money and they tirelessly avoided Mathew’s suspicious activities.
Jonass placed Mimosa under close surveillance. Now she could only see the world through the pane of a tower. Overwhelmed and chagrined, she held her tears but thanked God that her marriage with “dirty Mathew” was finally over.
* * *
Alone in the waiting-room of The Plaza Hotel, in Monrovia, Jonass and Admoss were engaged in an intense conversation. Exuberant as usual, the ringleader hugged his trusted man, apparently trying to convince him.
“I’ve faith in you, Admoss. You’ve given proof of integri- ty and perseverance. That’s the reason why I entrust you with that mission… Go to Jamaica, buy the house, and come back here… You’ve all necessary information and I’ve no doubt
you’ll be successful,” he embraced and congratulated the henchman.
“I praise the wisdom that allows you to resist curiosity,” he continued aggressively. “Our offer will be an excellent opportunity for the owner… I’ve instructed you about the different stages of the transaction... They must be followed faithfully... A wonderful bonus will reward your service...”
“Don’t worry,” answered Admoss. “I know what to do. You’ve nothing to fear.”
“You’ll leave tomorrow,” said Jonass. “Pattra will stay here to assist me. He is a good boy; but… mum’s the word!”
“I’m mute, sir… I’ve no tongue…” Admoss replied enthusiastically.
“You’re wise…” the ringleader rumbled with a faint smile. “You showed stunning ability in turning Mimosa around… Be assured of my help on anything…”
“Boss, I know you’ll be good to me…” the man looked at him and obediently shook his head.
“You can count on it,” answered Jonass. “When you return, you’ll have your house.”
“Really…” Admoss jumped joyfully around the waiting-room. “You’ll do that for your man?”
“I always keep my promise,” nodded Jonas. “You should know that…”
Admoss Moran left Monrovia at ten o’clock in the morning of November 27, 1982. He made a stopover at Orly Airport, in France, before boarding a Boeing 747 toward New York. From there, he took an American Airline plane to Montego Bay, Jamaica.
Arrived in the city at six o’clock in the evening, he stayed
at the Cardonal, a modest hotel in the Westside. After a worrisome night in the company of a prostitute, he almost got robbed of all of his money. A security guard’s quick intervention allowed him to recuperate his property.
Admoss learned his lesson and became more cautious. Following Adolph’s instructions, he moved on. The next day, he visited the house indicated by the gangster and was quite surprised. The price offered for its acquisition was way over the property market value.
The idea of taking advantage crossed his mind but he held back. Adolph was not a man to play game with. The gangster’s temerity and recklessness warned Admoss it could be deadly. The brutal millionaire had said to offer a price and to go on as in a normal transaction. Admoss decided to play safe.
He did not have to offer a second price. As predicted, Miriam Coloriss was eager to make the deal. She filled the papers and gave it up. Admoss immediately called Jonass.
“Did you deal with the owner?” the gangster asked him with a chilly voice.
“Oh, boss…” the henchman exclaimed wildly. “You should see her... A beauty to damn the Pope…”
“Is she living with her family?” inquired Jonass.
“Two old ladies and a rascal named Bogarr, the true owner
of the house…” he replied nervously.
“Any difficulties…?” asked Jonass.
“Everything went on swiftly,” he answered in a rush. “The night I arrived, something incredible happened…”
“What happened?” inquired Jonass.
“A prostitute...” he mumbled timidly. “She almost got away with my money…”
Adolph scolded him for his “stupidity”. With a biting voice, the gangster ordered him to come back to Monrovia the next day.
* * *
December 21, 1982: Monrovia International Airport. Jonass Conway, aka Adolphus Constantine, crossed the large alley leading to the take-off runway. His calm and relaxed demeanor hid a deep anxiety. The former swindler took the plane to a dangerous destination. Thick beard and dark glasses somehow changed his appearance but his bearing was the same. The gangster returned to Montego Bay where was buried a large part of his booty.
During their memorable journey in Jamaica, the Conway brothers had conceived and executed a plan of survival. At the time of their hasty flight from Sunset Villa, each one of them carried a modified military belt containing five hundred thousand dollars.
After the John Crow Mountain deadly confrontation with the police during which Garry and Edward were killed, Jonass had stripped them of their belts, taking possession of one million dollars.
Following the death of Peter and Jonathan’s arrest, another million dollars was recuperated by police.
In the Virgin Forest, in Trinidad and Tobago, Jonass had stripped himself of a belt and fastened it around Chapotto’s body to reinforce his scenario.
All counts done, the ringleader had kept a million dollars.
Paying his way out of the jungle and beyond the continent
did not seriously affect his fortune. When he reached Monrovia, eight hundred fifty thousand dollars were around his waist.
But seven millions remained hidden in a safe, four feet underground, in the little house acquired for Bogarr, Miriam’s brother. The Conway family detained the secret as well as the safe’s combination.
Five years after their tragic adventure, Jonass returned to take possession of his treasure.
Everything went on without a scratch. Nobody knew that the bandit, at a time the most wanted man in the world, was in town. Years had passed and the memory of the bloody investigation had faded. Now fifty-two years old, fat and trotting with a paunch, Jonass crossed two continents and three airports before landing in Jamaica in total anonymity.
Arrived in Montego Bay at eleven o’clock in the morning, he went downtown and bought bread, milk, and cheese. He then visited a store and acquired shovel, pickaxe, and a sack of cement. Well-off, he took a taxi and went to the isolated little house chosen “for his parents” five years earlier. He entered and locked himself in the basement.
* * *
January 5, 1983. Miami, Florida. A large number of parents and friends of the murdered cops arrived in the Grand Hall of the Police Department. The city had decided to honor the ex-detectives who investigated the Hauss & Caust affair. Despite complete failure in the search for Jonass, the managers considered the initiative as an appropriate gesture.
Notwithstanding the fact that William Arthur Bogatt was the sole local policeman killed during the investigation, the FBI agents were honored as well. The busts of deceased Garibaldi and Bill Bogatt preceded those of Galiss, Canamera, and Graham, still alive. The trio was on the podium: Galiss and Canamera standing together, Graham in a wheelchair.
Solemnly, dignitaries and police commanders entered the hall. They took place alongside the detectives and the ceremony began with an elegy by Janet Smith, Bill Bogatt’s twelve-year-old granddaughter.
“Grandpa, brave and admirable, fearless and faithful, you will remain forever in our memory. You gave us hope and we learned to love and to live together. Toward us gravitates the aura of your legend as an inspiring remembrance. Your faith and courage guide us and we look at you with the eye of innocence. Your talent and distinction deserve the admiration of all human beings. Those who knew you will take your actions as examples and will follow your steps. You are a beacon, grandpa; the sun for posterity.”
She left the podium under vibrant applauses; then, the mayor took the microphone followed by Garibaldi’s wife. At last, Galiss stood up, pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket, and addressed the assembly.
He talked about the bloody adventure and reiterated his faith in Republican institutions. His emotional voice pronounced stern words against those who had caused death and desolation. Taking God as a witness, he predicted their demise. His argot, moving declamation, and the grim expression on his face added a dramatic note to his noble speech. As Canamera applauded, Graham remained stiff
and strangely disdainful. The former delegate waved, threw some threatening interjections, and sat down.
* * *
They were happy, Adolph and Mimosa. They chased each other on the lawn and laughed in a delirium of excitement. Those two unbridled lovers would not stop cooing like young doves.
Back from Jamaica, Adolph bought the Chalet of Daisies, on a mountaintop, fifty miles off Monrovia. Passionate lover, he richly installed his young mistress and charged her with bombastic titles. She was the Daisies Princess, Duchess of Monrovia, and the Empress of Africa.
The young woman was exhilarated. Vivacious and frisky, she played along and showed incredible stamina. Lord and master, Adolph had adorned an enchanting domain for the queen. He loved her brutally. Petite and vulnerable, she gave in to the powerful gangster whose devilish snigger sent shivers down her spine all the way to the bottom.
Scary and terrible experience for a seventeen-year-old girl! Left alone in the night, in a room excessively furnished, she snuggled under the pillows and sobbed gently; but she jumped and laughed, showing her beautiful teeth to Jonass who kicked and beat for any reason.
That day, the couple went out for a shopping spree. They spent several hours downtown and returned home in the afternoon. Adolph called Admoss and ordered him to go, together with Pattra, supervise the landscaping in Jemeau’s ranch. The millionaire had acquired the vast property and begun a series of channel adjustments. He entrusted his henchmen with the task of supervising the works.
The two Liberians split into pieces to satisfy the gangster’s extravagant demands. Adolph spit on your face and punched hard for a peccadillo. Friends in distress, Pattra and Admoss ran back and forth; so, to avoid their master’s fury.
Mimosa was heartbroken to see her brother in such predicament; but she did not dare complain because her terrible lover tolerated no contradiction.
After Admoss left the chalet, the gangster undressed, took Mimosa’s hand, and led the way to the pool. She opposed no resistance. Jonass lifted her up and threw her in the water; he then plunged like a madman. Laughing and jumping, she wildly participated.
He hugged the young woman and undressed her, taking off skirt, blouse, and underwear. With extreme fervor, they began making love. She slipped from his grip, got out of the pool, and ran toward the veranda. The old swindler cried, gave chase, and caught her. Under the sunny sky, they jubilantly engaged in sexual intercourse. Bodacious and childish, Mimosa showed amazing exultation.
While they were having fun, a frightening shadow observed silently. Buried in the thick foliage of a tree, a few feet from the chalet, a man paid great attention to their playful encounter. Mathew, the ousted husband, had literally lost control. His wife now belonged to someone else and seemed happier than ever.
Unable to cope, the shopkeeper had decided to commit suicide; but he had quickly regained his composure and conceived the idea of a dreadful vengeance: This man had taken away the woman he loved and should pay… Mimosa, also,
should pay!
Dreaming wide-eyed, the poor devil saw the two lovers, down at his feet, crying and begging for forgiveness. He destroyed them with a few bullets to the heart. Such imaginary actions had a relieving effect and Mathew’s destructive inhib
itions became outlets for his pain.
Now, he faced a tremendous challenge. Nestled in the tree, a telescope in his hand, he saw his wife running and copulating with Jonass. She was naked. Her breasts, abdomen, the perfection of this seventeen-year-old body shocked him into a daze and he felt paralyzed.
Frozen between the branches, Mathew worried he had lost the ability to speak and thought he was victim of his own temerity. He did not dare to cry but mumbled to make sure he was still flexible. His ruffled hair, slumped face, and twisted mouth offered a distressful spectacle. Eyes closed, he tried to contain the violent pounding of his heart.
January 20, 1983. Jonass, aka Adolphus, woke up early and decided to go out for a jog. A life of debauchery had seriously weakened him and he appeared very heavy. Calling Mimosa, he asked her to come along. She was not in a good mood and uttered some nasty words. He slapped her on the face and ordered her to get dressed. A moment later, she was ready to jog. They left, Jonass in front, Mimosa following close behind.
They were taking a curve to enter the main road when, suddenly, a man loomed up with a gun in his hand. In the hazy dawn, six shots were fired and the two lovers collapsed on the ground.
Mathew, the ousted husband, remained a moment, his right
arm stretched out. Quivering and out of control, he wailed in an eerie tone, “Oh, you, dogs … Go to hell…”
His bloody eyes stared at the bodies as if the shroud of death was not enough to cover them. Suddenly, in a dramatic gesture, he knelt down and cried like a lunatic.
Soon, the street was filled with onlookers. Usually deserted at this early hour, the area bustled with people but nobody dared to approach Mathew.
The Conway's Conspiracy Page 18
