MOB ambs-1

by Roy Glenn

  He reached for the television remote and turned to channel 7. As expected, it was the top story. Travis listened as the reporter spoke of the daring daytime robbery of an armored truck, which left one man hospitalized with injuries related to gunfire. Travis interpreted that to mean the bullet hadn’t gone through the vest. The driver was only hurt by the fall he had taken from the impact of the bullet. Travis was glad that the man wasn’t going to die.

  Then something happened that caught him completely off guard. The entire robbery was captured on film by the store’s parking lot cameras. Travis got up and poured himself a drink. How could he have missed the cameras in the parking lot? As much time as he had spent watching that lot, how could he have missed that? Then he began to ponder the possibility that he could have been caught on tape during one of his many surveillance runs through the parking lot.

  The knockout punch came. A uniformed police sergeant appeared on camera to say that the three masked suspects involved in this robbery appeared to be the same three suspects in a jewelry store robbery last month in Manhattan.

  Travis was hot, and he knew that he didn’t want to be sitting around with $142,000 of stolen money in the house. In the past, he was able to get money into his account in the Caymans though one of Ronnie’s Wall Street contacts. This was too much cash, though, to trust in anybody’s hands but his. Travis called Freeze again, and left another message. This time he called right back.

  “I need to see you,” Travis told Freeze.

  “Yeah, I know. Met me at the 205th Street train station in thirty minutes,” Freeze said and hung up.

  Travis packed up the money, a few clothes, got the title for his car, and headed out the door, cursing all the way. How the fuck could you have missed that? Thirty minutes later, Travis was standing on the platform at the 205th Street train station, which was the last stop on the line, waiting for Freeze to arrive.

  When the train arrived at the station, Freeze got off and approached Travis. The two men embraced as black men do, and Travis discreetly handed Freeze an envelope. “That’s forty-seven six,” Travis said.

  Freeze smiled. “You’re hot.”

  “I know this.”

  “Who did the shooting?”

  “Ronnie,” Travis replied, knowing how Freeze would take it.

  “Figures. You need to lay low for a while.”

  “What I got to do is get this money out of the country as soon as possible. I need to go to the Cayma-” Freeze cut him off quickly.

  “I don’t need to know all that. You get to Miami. When you get there, you go to a private charter service called Pete’s. You talk to Pete personally. You tell him that Mike Black sent you, and if he gives you any shit, which he won’t, remind him that he owes Black a favor. You understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “Good luck,” Freeze said then got back on the train.

  Travis drove south doing the speed limit until he was too tired to go any farther. He got off of Interstate 95 at David McLeod Boulevard, Exit 160-A in Florence, South Carolina, and checked into a Red Roof Inn for the night. When he got settled into the room, Travis called to check his messages. Both Jackie and Ronnie had called him several times, wondering where he was. Each wanted to talk for obvious reasons, which they didn’t go into over the phone.

  Me’shelle had called, too, and she left her number. This made Travis smile for maybe the first time that day. As much as he wanted to call her right away, he thought it would be best to call Jackie first. He went to a pay phone and called Jackie. “I’ll call you back in ten minutes,” she said.

  Jackie went to a pay phone and called Travis back. He explained to Jackie that he was out of town on business and would return in a day or two. “We’ll all get together and talk things though when I get back. In the meantime, try to relax. Everything is gonna be fine. But maintain all security protocols until further notice.”

  “Okay, Tee. I’ll do that, but this is fucked up.”

  “I know, Jackie, I know. How is Ronnie?’

  “He is on fire,” Jackie replied. “But I’ll keep him in check until you get back.”

  “Do that. And keep him away from Freeze,” Travis said and hung up the phone. Then he went back to the room and called Me’shelle. “Hello, Me’shelle. This is Travis. I hope it’s not too late to be calling you.”

  “Well, actually it is, Travis, especially on a school night. But for you I’ll make an exception this one time. How are you?”

  “I’m good,” he lied. “Out of town on business. I should be back in a day or two.”

  “Really? Where are you?”

  Travis paused. “In South Carolina, but I’ll end up in Miami.” He didn’t think it was necessary to tell Me’shelle where he was going or why. However, he did give some thought to the mountain of lies he was building.

  “I’ve never been to Miami,” Me’shelle said.

  “Well, if this wasn’t a school night, I’d invite you down, show you the town.”

  “Can I have a rain check?”

  “But of course. Any time. Any time you want to go anywhere, all you have to do is say so,” Travis boasted.

  “So, you got it like that, huh?”

  Travis looked over at the suitcase filled with money and smiled. “I do all right. I’m not a rich man or anything like that, but I can afford to do most of the things that I want to do.”

  “It’s not like that for me. Don’t get me wrong; I love kids and I love teaching them. I get real satisfaction knowing I have a hand in shaping their futures, so it motivates me to do the best job I can. I just wish it paid more.”

  “Maybe I’m just stupid like that, but I think you and all teachers have the most important job in the world. I think your job is much more important than some guy who calls himself a CEO, whose biggest decision is what time to tee off. I think you should get paid based on level of importance. But like I said, I’m just stupid like that.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I think you got it right. But anyway, you’re not gonna have me up all night talkin’ my head off like you did last night. I’m going to say good night. Call me tomorrow, but please, make it a little earlier, okay?”

  “Okay, Me’shelle. Maybe when I get back you’ll do me the honor of having dinner with me.”

  “I would be happy to.”

  “Good night, Me’shelle”

  “Good night, Travis.”

  Me’shelle drifted back to sleep thinking of traveling to new and different places. She had never been anywhere except Columbia to visit her grandmother during the summer. Those trips ended when her mother died. She had planned to go to Jamaica with her girlfriends one summer, but that was the year her father died and she just wasn’t feeling it. Since then, Me’shelle hadn’t left New York, not even across the bridge to New Jersey.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go anywhere or that she was afraid to fly or anything like that. She just never had the time. When she wasn’t teaching during summer break, Me’shelle would volunteer to work with children in one program or another. It was her way of giving back.

  She also never had anyone who wanted to travel with her. During her years in a relationship with Trent, he was the one who never wanted to go anywhere. He would always ask, “Why do we need to leave New York when everything you could ever want to do is right here?”

  She fell asleep with a smile on her face, thinking about how eager Travis seemed to travel with her.

  Meanwhile, back in the Bronx, Jackie met Ronnie at Cynt’s. When she got there, Ronnie was sitting alone at the bar, not surrounded by dancers as he normally would be after a job.

  Jackie stepped up to the bar and motioned for Sammy. “Henny straight up, and one for my friend here,” Jackie said. As Sammy went off to pour the drinks, Jackie turned to Ronnie. He had been there for hours and had already had his share of Hennessey. “I talked to Travis.”

  “Where the fuck is he?” Ronnie asked.

  “Somewhere in South Carolina.�
�

  “What the fuck is he doing there?”

  “Says he down there on business and he’ll back in a couple of days.”

  “This nigga gone and we in some fucked up shit up here!” Ronnie said.

  “You ain’t gotta get loud about it. I know the shit is fucked up.”

  “We were on the fuckin’ news, Jackie. The fuckin’ news. How the fuck could he have missed some fuckin’ cameras in the fuckin’ parking lot, Jackie? You tell me that shit. Travis is slippin’! You hear me?”

  “Yeah, I hear you. Your voice carries. Keep it down before you get us put out of here. These niggas don’t need to know our business.”

  “Fuck that. Let them try to put my ass out this mutha fuckin’ place, as much money as I spend off in this bitch. That nigga is slippin’ and he gonna get us all fucked up.”

  Jackie leaned close to Ronnie. “Let me ask you a question. You were in that lot twice. Did you see any damn cameras? I didn’t.”

  “No, but that ain’t my fuckin’ job.”

  “I went there while we were in the planning stages and I didn’t see anything.”

  “Travis is supposed to see all that shit and plan for it.”

  “He can’t see everything, Ronnie. That’s why he brought us in on the planning, so we could be on the lookout for shit like that too.”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Ronnie said. “Look, Jackie, Travis been actin’ real funny for the last couple of weeks. He missed that camera shit, and now he’s gone. What’s up with that?”

  “You sayin’ he did that shit deliberately then bounced on us?”

  “That’s how it looks to me.”

  “That’s because you’re drunk, Ronnie. You’ve known Travis just as long as I have, so you know he’s not like that. We’ve gone too far and too fuckin’ long together,” Jackie said, grabbing Ronnie by his shirt, “for you to believe some shit like that. Come on. Let me take you home.” Jackie pulled Ronnie’s arm. He jerked it away.

  “I can walk,” Ronnie said, stumbling off the barstool.

  “Yeah, just not straight.” Jackie laughed.

  “All I know is that nigga ain’t right, and if he ever come back, we gotta watch him.”

  Even though he was tired, Travis still couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned all night, only drifting off to sleep for a while before waking up again to look at the clock. At 7:00 a.m., Travis was back in the car. He had breakfast at a nearby IHOP then headed for Miami.

  As soon as he arrived in Dade County, he called Pete’s charter service. Unfortunately for Travis, the woman who answered the phone said that Pete wasn’t available and wouldn’t be until the next day. “Do you want to leave a message for Pete?” the woman asked.

  “No.”

  After getting the address and directions, Travis continued his ride south on I-95 and got off at Biscayne Boulevard. He checked in at the Riande Continental, the hotel where he usually stayed when he was in Miami. Once he was satisfied that his money was secure, he changed his clothes and walked across the street to the Bayside Marketplace.

  He went to the Latin Grill, which featured Cuban style cuisine. He sat alone enjoying a zesty Palomilla steak while he contemplated his situation. Finally, Travis began to relax. He recognized that if he continued to make decisions in his current state of mind, he would make the kind of mistakes that would get him caught. He convinced himself that there really was no need for the panicked state he was in. With a clearer head, Travis realized that this trip was going to take longer than he thought it would. And why not spend a couple of days in the Caymans?

  After he finished his steak, Travis wandered around the marketplace and picked up a few things to wear in the Caymans. As he was passing the Silver Palace, a necklace caught his eye. He went in and bought it for Me’shelle. He stopped in The Hard Rock Cafe, then Fat Tuesday’s, and had a drink in each before ending up at Sharkey’s. While he was there, Travis met, and had a very interesting conversation with an attractive Hispanic woman named Marita, who was having drinks at the bar.

  As he was getting ready to leave, Travis told Marita that he was staying at Riande Continental. He gave her the room number. “If you’re not doing anything later this evening, stop by,” he told her.

  He started to go back to his room to relax but ended up at a strip club called Black Gold on Biscayne Boulevard. Once that grow old, Travis headed back to his room and called Me’shelle. They had been on the phone talking for over an hour. Travis told her that he had gotten her a souvenir and would give it to her over dinner when he returned to New York.

  “Thank you, Travis. You know you didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know, but I wanted to. As soon as I saw it, I thought that you would like it.”

  “Oh, really? What is it?”

  “It’s a surprise,” Travis said.

  “Well, that will give me something to look forward to.” Me’shelle paused. “Along with dinner,” she said quickly.

  “For a minute there I thought that you were looking forward to seeing me,” Travis said, hearing the smile in her voice.

  “Maybe just a little. I like talking to you. I don’t think that I’ve ever enjoyed talking to somebody as much as I’ve enjoyed talking to you.”

  “Well, Me’shelle, the feeling is mutual.”

  “Well, Travis, I’m going to say goodnight now,” Me’shelle said.

  “Do you have to hang up now?” Travis said just as a he heard a knock at his door. He had a good idea who it was. “But I understand that you have to mold young minds in the morning, so I’ll let you go. I’ll call you tomorrow.” The knocking continued and got louder.

  “Okay, Travis.” Me’shelle yawned. “Good night.”

  Travis hung up the phone and went to open the door. He swung the door open and as he expected, Marita stood before him.

  “Can I come in?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  At 9:00 the next morning, Travis had said goodbye to Marita, checked out of the hotel, and was standing in a used car lot. The dealer looked over the Thunderbird and offered Travis a thousand dollars for it. “Sold,” Travis said then signed over the title. He thought it best that he get rid of the car just in case the police reviewed the tapes of the parking lot and were looking for his car.

  He caught a cab to Pete’s charter service and went inside. He approached the man behind the counter. “What can I do for you?” Pete said with his typical not another nigger look on his face.

  “I’m looking for Pete,” Travis said

  “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

  “Mike Black sent me. I need to charter a plane to the Cayman Islands.”

  Pete looked at Travis strangely, then it hit him. “Oh yeah, Mike Black,” Pete said when he remembered who Mike Black was and how Angelo Colette said to treat him. “You tell Mr. Black that I’ll be more than glad to take you there.”

  “He’ll be glad to hear that,” Travis said, laughing to himself because Mike Black wouldn’t know him from a can of paint.

  “When do you want to leave?”

  “As soon as possible.”

  “Any cargo going or comin’ back?”

  “Just my luggage.”

  Pete looked strangely at Travis again, wondering how these niggers made money. Trips of this sort were usually in and out, coming back with cargo. These guys act like they’re going to take a vacation. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

  “No.” Travis thought for a second or two before instructing, “Come back for me on Friday morning if that’s not too much trouble.”

  “No problem.” He told Travis his fee, and Travis paid in cash. Pete counted the money twice. “Have a seat. I’ll come get you when the plane is gassed and ready for takeoff.”

  Once the plane landed at the airport in George Town, Grand Cayman Island, Travis asked Pete if he knew someplace nice where he could stay. “Naw,” Pete said. “I don’t know a place to stay here.” Travis took a look at Pete in his beat-to-shit flight suit an
d his two-day growth of beard, and wasn’t surprised. “Wait a minute. I do know of a place. It’s called The Pools. It’s in Kaibo in Rum Point on the north side of the island. They got them beachfront condos out there. I flew a business exec down here a couple of months ago. Older guy, probably cheatin’ on his wife. Anyway, that’s where him and his little chippie stayed. She was a one of them high-class pretty blond gals. So I figure it must be someplace nice.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check it out, Pete. I’ll see you Friday morning.”

  After a lengthy ride around the coastal areas of Grand Cayman Island, the taxi driver made it to Rum Point. The cab pulled up in front of The Pools. Travis was very surprised and very impressed. He wasn’t expecting much from Pete’s referral of someplace an old man visited with his mistress. He went inside and the clerk described the property.

  “The Pools feature fully furnished and smartly equipped one bedroom, one bath vacation properties. Our rooms are specifically designed with a private screened pool on your lanai, with ultra large sliding doors that fully open up the bedroom, living area and kitchen to a magnificent view of the beach and North Sound. You are about fifteen steps from the pool to the warm, relaxing water and soft, sandy white beach. It is located on the very end of The Pools development, making for a very private setting. Your room will be shaded under palm trees, and enjoys consistent trade winds that come across from Rum Point. Would you care to see a unit, sir?”

  “Yes, definitely. Lead the way,” Travis said and followed the attendant.

  Once he reached the condo, he went on to explain, “The condo has a king-sized bed in the master bedroom, with a large sleeper built into the living area couch, making for comfortable accommodations for up to four adults.”

  “I don’t plan on having that much company.” Travis smiled.

  “But it’s good to have and don’t need, yes? Come, let me show you, the unit has cable TV, stereo, and a phone. There are ceiling fans in the bedroom and living area, along with central air conditioning. The condo has a fully equipped kitchen with all the modern appliances. The laundry room has a full size washer and dryer, and the condo comes equipped with linens and towels, along with basic toiletries for your use. Chisholm’s grocery is just a seven minute drive down the road.”