Cold Medina

by Gary Hardwick

  “What's messed up?” Tony asked.

  “Medina.”

  “I see, I see. Who's in charge of making the drug?”

  Silence.

  “Who?”

  K9 tried to run. He fell again, but Tony caught him. He sat the boy down in a chair next to a table. He knelt in front of him. “OK. Forget that for now;” said Tony. “Who is the killer, the Handyman?”

  “I don't know.”

  Tony looked at Blue. “Blue, this is not--”

  “Tell him the story, Earl. Tell him what you told me.”

  K-9 shifted in the chair. For a second, Tony thought that he would fall again.

  “The dead ones... were all in a gang a long time ago. Big Money... Campbell and another guy... but he died a long time ago.”

  “What's the name of the gang?”

  “I don't know ... no one ever said it, or I would remember.”

  “OK, then. The dead guy; what's his name?”

  “They called him Baby Knife ... 'cause he carried a little one.”

  “What about the others? The ones killed at Shalon Street. Were they in this gang too?”

  “No ... not them.” K-9 turned away from him. Tony put his hands on the boy's shoulders and made him face forward.

  “Listen carefully;” Tony said. “Is the Handyman killing off this gang?”

  “Yes, but they don't know it yet.”

  “Are there any more of the gang left?” “Butchie and another one ... the big dealer.”

  “What's Butchie's real name?”

  “I don't know.”

  “OK. I can check that. What's the other one's name, the big dealer?”

  “He'll kill me.”

  “Look, I'll protect you. I swear. I'll take you to the station house and--”

  “No!” K-9 stood up again and tried to run. Tony grabbed at him, but he slipped away K-9 fell and hit his head on the side of a table. He was out. Blood leaked from the wound. Blue ran over to him.

  “Damn,” said Tony.

  “Shit, Tony,” said Blue. “Why'd you have to spook him. I told you he's afraid of the cops.”

  “Sorry, I was just trying to get to the bottom of it all.”

  “Shit. It's bleeding pretty bad. I'll have to call an ambulance. He needs a doctor,” said Blue.

  Blue ran off and returned, carrying a towel and a first aid kit.

  “Hold this over the wound,” Blue said, giving Tony the towel.

  Tony pressed hard against the boy's head. Blue grabbed a phone and dialed, leaving the room.

  Tony stared at the boy's deformed face. What in God's name was he doing with drug dealers? Blue returned ten minutes later with a male and female paramedic.

  “We'll take over here,” said the young woman.

  Tony got up and let her tend to the boy. He and Blue moved away.

  “They got here fast,” Tony said.

  “I got connections,” said Blue. “The ambulance company's owner had a son on crack. I helped his son beat the addiction.”

  “Nice to know someone still gives a damn,” said Tony.

  “Well, what you gonna do about what he said?” asked Blue.

  “I’ll pass it along to-”

  “No, Tony. I told you what he said. You can't trust the police. They kill for money.”

  Tony felt he was right. After witnessing the payoffs, he could honestly say that some of his fellow officers could no longer be trusted.

  “OK, I'll look into it myself, but if I find anything, I turn it over.”

  “Fair enough,” said Blue. “Look, I'm going to the hospital with him.”

  “Call me if he says anything and don't tell anyone who he is.”

  Blue left with the boy. Tony went behind them outside. He stood by his car and watched the ambulance drive off. Then he got into his car and wrote down all that K-9 had told him.

  Tony headed for home. The first thing he planned to do when he got there was phone Jim and tell him this story.

  If what the boy said was true, then perhaps the Handyman was eliminating drug dealers with a common link. He would need the department's computer to be sure. Tony remembered that when he checked the computer before, there was no common link between the Handyman's victims, except that they were all in the Union. If he could identify the next victim, maybe he could catch the Handyman in the act.

  Tony looked at the notes he'd taken. He had scribbled Butchie ... a dead man called Baby Knife ... a gang with no name and big dealer. The first three might be easy to find, but he had no clue to the man called the big dealer.

  There were many drug dealers in Detroit. The Union was really a collection of drug crews. If the boy's big dealer was some kind of leader, maybe he meant Theodore Bone, the man who was often reputed to have founded the Union.

  Even though Tony had to turn over this information to the department, he was excited. He felt like a cop again. Tony noticed the hooptie was pulling to one side even more. He needed to put some air in the tire. He might not make it all the way home if he didn't.

  “Great,” he said to himself.

  He stopped at the first gas station he saw. As he pulled in, he noticed a skinny man on a pay phone. Probably a drug deal, he thought. No one used pay phones on the street unless they were up to no good. Tony pulled around the back to the air hose.

  The back of the gas station was dark. There was a house next to it and the window facing that gas station had thick, black iron bars on it.

  Tony got out of the car fishing for a quarter to turn on the air machine. His left front tire was low. Suddenly, the skinny man walked up behind him.

  “Don't move, muthafucka,” he said.

  Tony stopped. His back was to the man. Tony put his hands up and measured the distance to his gun. A second or two and he could have it out, but it might be too late.

  “OK, bitch!” said the skinny man. “Wallet, watch, and keys.”

  “OK,” said Tony. 'Tm putting my hands down.” He lowered them.

  “Hell no! Turn your ass around, slow,” the man said. Tony turned, knowing that after he saw the man's face, the robber would shoot him after he had his valuables. Tony turned. He didn't recognize the man's face, but he was obviously high, probably on that new drug.

  “OK,” Tony said then began to take off his watch.

  The robber reached for the watch and Tony grabbed his hand, jerking him forward. The robber was off-balance and stumbled. In that moment, Tony kicked forward, catching the man in the stomach.

  The robber grunted then started to bring the gun toward Tony, but Tony caught his wrist and they struggled. Tony lifted a knee into the robber's groin and he doubled over. He slammed his forearm into the side of the man's face and sent the robber stumbling backwards. Unfortunately, the robber still had the gun.

  Tony pulled his weapon out quickly and pointed it at his attacker. To Tony's surprise, the skinny man rose in the air, lifted by a big shadowy figure. The big shadow grabbed the robber's head and twisted his body. A dull snap of the skinny man's neck followed. The big shadow dropped the limp body to the ground.

  “I'm a cop. Don't move!” Tony yelled at the big shadow.

  The man just stood for a moment and Tony knew he was contemplating his next move.

  “So am I,” said the man, moving into the light.

  It was Walter Nicks. Tony tensed. He was more shocked to see him than the robber.

  “What are you doing, following me?” said Tony. He kept the gun up.

  “I just happen to be out tonight.”

  “I think you've confused me with someone who doesn't know you.”

  Nicks laughed. “OK, I'm tailing you, but it's lucky for you I am. That jacker would have burned you for sure.”

  “I had it under control.”

  “Yeah, you kicked his ass a little, but he would have got off a shot. So, why did you go to see Blue Jones?”

  “He's a friend.”

  “Who was the ambulance for?”

  “That's
it. I don't owe you any answers.”

  “Really? You're a civilian and carrying a concealed weapon is a felony.” Nicks stood with his hands at his side.

  “Fuck that. I have a gun on a man who could be a robber, so you had better talk. Why are you following me?”

  Tony was worried. Nicks and his men could do anything in Detroit. Nicks could shoot him dead and no one would ask any questions.

  ''I'm on my own Handyman investigation, per the mayor's orders. This is an election year and white vigilante killers don't exactly make people want to vote for him. So, I'm checking out anything unusual.”

  “What the hell does that have to do with me?”

  “When the inspector on the case resigns, I call that pretty fucking unusual.”

  “Well, I'm not involved,” said Tony. He let the gun drop to his side.

  “Why did you resign?”

  “None of your goddamned business.”

  “Everything in this city is my business. You been in the life a long time, Inspector. Too long to quit, unless you were up to no good.”

  Tony laughed. “You wouldn't know good if it walked up and yanked your dick.”

  “You don't wanna fuck with me, Hill. You know who I am.”

  “I don't give a wet shit. You'd better leave now.”

  “Not until I get some answers.”

  “No, I think you're leaving or I'll have to do a lot of explaining to the cops tonight.” Tony raised the gun again. Tony knew it was a risk, but intimidation was all men like Nicks understood.

  “You fucking assholes think you got it made don't you?” Nicks said. “Well, I earned my position. I ain't no affirmative action baby like you. You just another candy-ass pretending to be a warrior. I'm for real. I've killed enough people to fill Tiger Stadium. I eat real men for breakfast and shit out muthafuckas like you.”

  “Then if I shoot your ass, it won't even hurt, right?”

  “You ain't got the nuts.”

  Tony fixed his eyes on Nicks and he couldn't waver. The slightest break and the big man might try him.

  Nicks backed up.

  “Next time, I'll let the jacker kill your sorry ass.” He walked to his car and pulled away

  Tony looked at the body of the would-be carjacker on the ground. He knew that reporting it would lead to all kinds of entanglements and he didn't need any of that right now.

  Tony rolled the body into the dark with his feet. He filled the leaky tire and drove away He took a long out-of-the-way path back home and checked his rearview mirror all the way.

  Tony got home and immediately phoned Jim, but his answering machine picked up. Tony started to leave a message but thought better of it. Walter Nicks and the mayor had been known to tap phones and bug offices. Tony hung up without leaving a message. He tried several more times but kept getting the machine. He would have to sec Jim first thing in the morning.

  Tony slipped into bed with Nikki but could not sleep. Images of Walter Nicks coming through his window kept surfacing in his mind. And when he finally dozed off, his Beretta was on the nightstand.

  9

  Cleaning House

  T-Bone sat in the shadows of the old vacant building in Detroit as the two killers worked on the Prince. He would be dead soon and then he would question the Professor. He needed fear on his side in order to get the answers he wanted. Once the Professor told him what he needed to know, he would kill him, too.

  Nam stood by as Pit beat the Prince. Mayo and Traylor watched from across the room. They stood by Donna and the Professor who were bound and watched on their knees.

  T-Bone had reluctantly shut down production of Medina and all hell had broken loose. Some of the houses had refused to return the product and continued to sell it. Chaos. Rebellion in his houses! It didn't seem possible. And K-9 was gone and no one knew where he was.

  The Prince was a useless mouthpiece so he would die first. Then he'd ask the white man if he could make Medina without the side effects. T-Bone didn't care about the girl. Pit and Nam had tried to rape her during the return ride. Mayo had threatened to kill them if they had.

  They had retrieved the money, but he didn't care about it. It was chump change compared to what he had lost. These assholes might have cost him everything.

  Pit slammed his fist into the Prince's side and felt another rib crack. He was wearing gloves with brass knuckles on them. Blood flowed over the gloves. Tiny pieces of flesh stuck to them. Pit hit another solid blow to the chest and the Prince's body began to jerk spasmodically, then it stopped. It wouldn't he long now.

  The Prince's face was a tangle of blood and pulpy flesh. Both eyes were closed and all of his front teeth were gone. When he breathed, he made a wheezing noise through his broken nose and the air made bubbles in the blood which ran from it.

  The Professor and Donna watched in horror as Pit attacked his victim. Donna had been relieved of her razor and allowed to put clothes on. Neither of them struggled. Even if they could get free, they would be killed before they took three steps.

  Donna's eyes were red with tears, but not for the Prince. He was her husband but she did not love him. She had known that sooner or later he would get his. All drug dealers did. But she never expected to go down with him. She had always been smart enough to stay out of harm's way. She could usually smell trouble and made herself scarce at those times.

  Once in Tennessee, some dealers had shot at the Prince in their cheap motel room, but she had been out shopping. In New York, they had tried to knife him, but she was at a hotel with a man she had met the night before.

  She'd had a bad feeling about Detroit, but had not expected them to come so quickly. It was her fault. She had gotten too far into the sex with Mayo and told him they might go to Chicago. Now she feared what they were going to do to her. She kept looking at Steven Mayo, but he would not return her gaze. It was obvious that her fate was in the hands of the leader. She thought to herself that she should have had sex with T-Bone instead.

  Pit struck a blow to the Prince's sternum that made a dull, cracking noise. Nam dropped the Prince and his body fell to the floor, uninhabited.

  Nam quickly bent down to check his pulse. He raised his head and smiled broadly.

  “That's all, folks.” Pit immediately looked at Donna. He pointed a bloody finger at her and walked toward her.

  “That's enough,” said T-Bone to Pit.

  “I want her, man,” said Pit. “Just let me--”

  “I said no, dammit!” T-Bone yelled. Mayo and Traylor put their hands to their weapons but did not raise them.

  Pit's anger grew. Why were they protecting this bitch?!

  “Cool, cool,” he lied. He went over to Nam and slapped him five with his bloody hand.

  T-Bone walked to the Professor whose face was filled with terror. He had not had a drink for hours, and he was literally shaking.

  “I blame all this on your boy,” said T-Bone calmly. “I know you two were just following orders. So, I'm only going to ask you once. How do we take the side effects out of the Medina?”

  “There's got to be a way,” the Professor said. “Let me work on it! I'll do it! I swear!”

  T-Bone signaled Traylor who brought him the blue steel sawed-off pump shotgun. He pointed it at the Professor's head.

  “Don't lie to me. Is there a way?!” T-Bone placed the shotgun under the Professor's nose. “Lie to me and I'll blow your fucking face off, one ugly piece at a time.” He looked the Professor straight in the eyes. He would know if he was lying.

  “Yes, I can do it!” the Professor almost yelled.

  “How?”

  “I'll break it down ... to its base elements and ... eliminate the hallucinogenic effect.”

  “How?” “By ... uh, I'll have to do tests first. I need a drink. I can't think--”

  T-Bone pushed the gun hard into the Professor's nose. Blood flowed out of a nostril. T-Bone pulled the gun back then knelt down next to the Professor, who was sobbing like a child. T-Bone moved his face
close to the crying man and whispered. ''I'm not an unreasonable man. The Prince hustled me. Goes with the territory. But you, I need you. We need to take some time out and find the answer to the drug's problem. Then everything will be cool.”

  T-Bone pulled out a pint of gin. The Professor's eyes brightened. He reached for it, but T-Bone pulled it back.

  ''I'm a businessman,” T-Bone said. “I need Medina to work. You help me and I'll let you live. But don't lie to me. It's insulting. Now, is there a way to fix the drug?”

  “No, but we can find a new drug. I just need some time to work on it.”

  “Cool,” T-Bone said.

  T-Bone gave the Professor the bottle then stood up. This drunk couldn't help him. He probably never even worked on the formula at all. But it was too late to change any of that. If there was one thing that he had learned in the business, it was when to cut his losses.

  T-Bone shot the Professor dead. The blast shattered the bottle on the Professor's lips and tore his head apart. Donna shrieked until T-Bone pointed the weapon at her and pumped it, discarding the spent shell and loading a new one.

  “Hey now, Bone, don't waste her until we can get some,” pleaded Pit. “She too fine to just kill.”

  “Yeah,” added Nam. “Let the troops have some R & R” Pit and Nam smiled at each other and high-fived, rubbing themselves.

  T-Bone turned the gun on them both. He shot Pit in the chest. He fell backwards, a look of surprise on his face. T-Bone quickly pumped another shell and shot Nam. The blast caught him in the leg. Nam fell to the floor. T-Bone pumped the gun again and moved over Nam, put the gun in his face and fired.

  “Shut up!” T-Bone said. He turned back to Donna, who was crying with her bound-up hands over her face. T-Bone pumped the gun again. Donna jumped but did not lower her hands. T-Bone waited a moment, then handed the shotgun to Mayo.

  “She's yours,” he said and walked away.

  Mayo tightened. He hoped that T-Bone would allow Pit and Nam to take care of the woman. He was prepared for that. He also knew that Pit and Nam would have to be disposed of. They had seen T-Bone commit murder and neither of them was reliable. But he certainly had not expected T-Bone to waste them now.