Dutch III: International Gangster

by Teri Woods

  Everyone realized at that moment that Craze was going to sacrifice himself for them. “I love you, Craze,” she said, holding his head, kissing the side of his face. “I love you, nigga, for life.”

  “I love you, too, Angel.” Craze smiled, pleased that she was following his order. Standing on the side of the road she looked at the two brothers from different mothers inside the car.

  “What the fuck you still sitting there for?” asked Craze, with nothing but love in his voice.

  “How the fuck I’m supposed to walk away from you?” asked Dutch, ready to die with him.

  “ ’Cause, nigga, I’ma be all right. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side,” he said, his eyes pleading for Dutch to go while he had a chance. Dutch watched as blood gushed from Craze’s mouth.

  “Shit, I’m all fucked up.” Craze smiled, sucking in deep breaths of air. “Go on, man.” He stopped for a moment and looked Dutch square in the eyes. “I’ll meet you at the crossroads, ya heard.”

  Angel placed two machine guns in the car next to Craze, all the while crying uncontrollably.

  “Hurry up and get out of here,” Craze commanded, as Dutch closed the passenger car door behind him.

  Dutch looked at Craze and a tear rolled from his eye. Craze smiled at his man, knowing Dutch loved him just as much as he loved Dutch. He saw Dutch heave a heavy sigh.

  Am I my brother’s keeper? Craze thought as he put the car in drive and sped down the street, leaving Angel barely able to stand as she broke down crying in the arms of one of the Charlies.

  Craze floored the gas, turned onto a main street, and followed the sounds of the roaring sirens until the police were back on his tail. He drove the BMW through the city streets at over 110 mph, making a right-hand turn, which turned out to be a wrong turn, as he had a brigade of police cars headed straight for him. He tried to elude them and hopped the curb in hopes of getting away. He flew down the sidewalk, crashing into poles and a fire hydrant. People tried to hurry out of the way as Craze mowed them down like bowling pins. “Sorry,” he said as he hit a group of elderly people, thinking of Slick Rick. Their twisted bodies flew off the hood and roof of his car and into the air. More police cars joined the chase, coming from side streets, as Craze continued to dip past them all making his way onto the Tower Bridge, which proved to be the wrong move. The other side of the bridge was blocked off by tanks and British soldiers.

  “Aiight then, this is how this shit is gonna end,” Craze said, slamming his foot on the brakes. Am I my brother’s keeper? He thought about the proverb and knew what had to be done. He looked into the rearview mirror at the police cars stopped several thousand feet behind him, and he looked across the bridge at the tanks and police cars waiting for him on the side. He had nowhere to go. He sat in the car and he thought through his life. He saw Dutch as a little boy slapping fives with him; he saw everything they had been through, the women, the money, the life he had lived, the sex, the drugs, the hundred-million-dollar monopoly he had helped build, all his happy, all his sad, his moments twisting out broads, and how sad Dutch looked as he saw a tear roll down his face. I don’t think I ever seen that nigga cry. Don’t worry, son, it’s all good. I got you, my nigga, I got you. With all his strength he flung open the car door.

  “Step out of the vehicle with your hands behind your head,” said a voice from a police bullhorn. “You are completely surrounded. Step out of the vehicle with your hands behind your head.”

  Craze did just what he was told to, pretending to surrender. Bleeding profusely from his chest wounds, he stumbled out of the car, holding his hands in the air. The ledge of the bridge was only six feet away—a hop, a skip, a jump, and a leap away. He thought about what he was about to do and the question popped into his head once more: Am I my brother’s keeper?

  “Yes, I am.”

  The police stood down as they watched Craze leap off the ledge of the Tower Bridge, his body seemingly suspended in slow motion as it filtered through the air and crashed into the River Thames.

  Agent Shipp and his agents had just made it to the scene. Shipp jumped out of his patrol car and watched Craze’s body drop, splashing into the river below.

  “Where are the others?” Agent Shipp asked the commander in charge.

  “It’s only him.”

  “What do you mean—Dutch got away? He got away, again?” Shipp fumed as he called for the FBI air team to patrol the area in their helicopters. But they wouldn’t find him. They were too late, and once again Dutch had gotten away without a trace.

  THE FINAL FINALE

  Newark, New Jersey

  Everyone from all over the world watched the devastating news on television and couldn’t believe what had happened. An amateur video taken from a cell phone captured Craze’s free fall from the top of the bridge. Every news station continued to replay the graphic events, which seemed to come straight out of a Hollywood movie. The FBI didn’t relish the thought of Dutch getting away again. They had all the airports and all exit points of the city shut down, leaving no stone unturned. Wherever he was, he wouldn’t get far, that was for sure.

  Delores Murphy watched the television screen as Craze’s body hit the water. She knew that the FBI was closing in on them if Craze was leaping off a bridge to his death. She wondered if Dutch was okay or if he had been injured. A tear dropped from her eye as she watched Craze’s body hit the water once again as she flipped through the channels.

  “God be with him,” said Delores, wishing for just one more moment with her son.

  “He is.”

  Delores turned around at the sound of Bernard’s voice. He hadn’t spoken in over a week and just as clear as day, she heard him say, “He is.” And he said it as if she had nothing to worry about, as if everything was just fine. She looked at him and at the smile that had spread across his face.

  “What did you say?” she asked, even though she had heard him. She just wanted to hear him speak again. Then she realized, as she moved closer to him, that even though his eyes were staring straight through her and the smile on his face was big enough to light up Times Square, he was gone. He had passed just like that, just that quickly and taken his last breath with his last words.

  “Bernard,” she whispered at the sight of his dead body. “Oh, God, no, Bernard… Bernard… Bernard,” she said. She kissed the side of his face, then used two fingers to close his eyes. “Now you are free, now you will have your peace, and you won’t suffer here or be in no more pain. God rest his soul,” she said, before reciting the Lord’s Prayer while holding his hand.

  “Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, forever, amen.”

  She looked down at the man she had wished for all her life, and the funny thing was she didn’t have one tear, not any sadness, only a feeling of enlightenment and gratification. “Thank you, Bernard. Thank you for coming back for me,” she said, kissing the back of his hand before gently lifting herself off the bed to call the authorities.

  London, England

  Dutch, Angel, and the two Charlies ran down the street and around the corner where a parked car was sitting.

  “Keep a watch,” Dutch said, up to his old childhood ways again as he jump-started the tiny Volkswagen. They all hopped into the car and Dutch drove the vehicle through the streets of London. He had been moving through London for quite some time, shopping frequently at Harrods, dipping in and out of Brussels, but living in Paris. He quickly switched to the only option he had left, which was plan B. He drove straight to the dock, taking less than ten minutes to reach it. He remembered what Mr. Odouwo had said to him the last time they were together. He couldn’t believe it, but once again, Mr. Odouwo would be saving his life.

  “Whose gonna fly the plane?” asked Angel, confused
.

  “I can handle it,” Dutch said, not knowing if he could or couldn’t, but he was willing to die trying if it meant he’d get away. They all ran down the pier to where the plane was parked in the water. An old man, dressed in smelly old fisherman’s overalls, green water boots up to his knees, and a cap on his head, was all alone in the middle of the pier fishing. He looked their way and locked eyes with Dutch in disgust.

  “You’re gonna scare the fish!” he snapped.

  “Fuck the fish,” Dutch said, running by the bearded old man to the end of the pier, until he reached the yellow plane, parked all by itself.

  He held the door, waiting for Angel and the two Charlies to safely board. Then he climbed inside.

  “Do you believe we’re really gonna do this shit?” said Angel as everyone snapped on their seat belts. Dutch looked around the plane. The console was unfamiliar to him, but he knew the basics.

  “I believe we are,” agreed Dutch as he switched the engine on, pressed the propeller button, unlocked the gears, and backed out of the dock.

  “We are out of here, baby,” she screamed, slapping high fives with Dutch and the two Charlies in the backseat.

  “Hell, yeah!” one of the Charlies screamed as Dutch pulled back on the throttle, testing it calmly as he sped across the water. He pulled down on the gears as the plane lifted like magic into the air.

  “We are flying the fuck out of here. Fucking cops, you can’t catch us,” Angel screamed. “Yeah, baby!”

  While Angel was ranting and raving, slapping high fives with her girls, Dutch looked down at the pier. He could see the fisherman, who was now standing at the edge of the pier, staring up into the sky at them in the plane. He was holding a black box with a long antenna. He took off his cap and waved at Dutch, whose face he could see through the plane’s window.

  What the fuck? Dutch questioned as their running down the pier replayed in his mind.

  He could hear the man’s voice as it echoed through his head, “You’re gonna scare the fish.” The voice behind that face and the voice behind the smelly fisherman’s overalls was very familiar. And right before Mr. Odouwo pressed the red button on the detonator to seal Dutch’s fate, Dutch recognized him. Odouwo? What the fuck is he doing out there? And then it hit him. Mr. Odouwo had set him up. The detonator was a trigger for liquid explosives that were lined throughout the plane. Just as the plane reached twenty thousand feet, Odouwo let the red button go.

  Before Dutch could think or speak, the liquid explosives created a ball of fire within the aircraft. The old man standing on the pier could see the heavy flames coming from inside the plane before it exploded and disintegrated in the sky, pieces of the aircraft falling into the water below.

  His work was done. He turned around, pushed the antenna back into the detonator, pulled off his mustache-and-beard disguise, and looked at his watch. It was time for cocktails. Mr. Odouwo smiled as he walked back down the pier. Some things in life a man just has to do himself, he thought, as a smile spread across his face.

  Three Weeks Later

  Terrence stood at the grave of FBI Agent Kimberly Reese. He missed her very much. He had never thought of life without her. He had visited her grave every weekend since the funeral. The death of Kimberly shook him in his pants, and he realized how important life really was. He sat a picture of her in a Tiffany frame on his dresser, so she’d know he wouldn’t ever forget her.

  “You were always worried that you’d go away somewhere and come back and things would be changed… that… somehow, I’d forget you that fast and move on, like you wouldn’t have a home to come home to. I just want you to know, you’ll always have a home with me, Kim. I’ll always be here, okay? I’ll be back to visit you and any time you want to come home, the door’s open.”

  Terrence wiped his eyes and turned from her grave, after placing a beautiful bouquet of flowers at her headstone.

  Ayesha signed for the body of her children’s father, Rahman, alongside Faheem. They had turned his services over to the Masjid. Ayesha knew that the sisters in the Janazah committee would take care of him.

  “Don’t worry, sister, we’re gonna wrap up brother Rahman real good, Alhamdulillah!” And they did, and Ayesha laid her children’s father to rest.

  Angel’s body was found two weeks later and was transported back to Newark, New Jersey. Her body was so decayed from being in the water so long that she had to be identified by dental records. The relationship with her mother had never been strong, and unfortunately no one had any money to bury Angel. She was cremated by her great-aunt who kept her ashes in the dining-room china cabinet drawer.

  The bodies of the two Charlies were also recovered, still strapped into the plane seats. They were sent back to the United States to their families.

  One week after burying Bernard James, Sr., Dutch’s father, Delores Murphy signed for the bodies, or what was left of the bodies, of Dutch and Craze. She held a memorial to celebrate their lives. People from all over the world came to pay their last respects. The newspapers said that there were over five thousand mourners who attended the memorial services for Dutch and Craze. The police had to be called to shut down streets, direct traffic, and keep order. The following morning, Delores buried the bodies of Christopher Shaw, aka Craze, and Bernard James, Jr., aka Dutch, side by side, as brothers should be.

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  Discussion Questions

  1. Do you wish that Dutch had gotten away?

  2. Did you think that Mr. Odouwo was setting him up from the beginning?

  3. Did you think that Dutch should have killed Nina or let her go back home?

  4. Should Craze have turned himself in or sacrificed his life for Dutch?

  5. Do you think Delores did the right thing taking Bernard James, Sr., home with her?

  6. Should she have left him behind, as he did her?

  7. Should Ayesha have stood by her man, Roc, or taken another husband?

  8. Why do you think Angel didn’t see through Goldilocks?

  9. Do you think that Goldilocks loved her boyfriend, even though she was in another relationship with Angel?

  10. Were you satisfied with the ending or do you wish Dutch was still alive?

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my family, Mom, Carol, Chucky, Dexter, Brenda, Carl, my children, Jessica, Lucas, and Brandon.

  I would like to thank everybody that is in my life, not just today, but those who have been there from the beginning.

  I would like to thank my friend Kashan Robinson. You are a good friend, even when you holler at me. You always rep me to the fullest, BK. You always got my back, and I know that you love me. Please know I love you too.

  I would like to thank Branson Belchie, for the chronic nigga, and for always having me covered. You are like an old, dusty, blue blanket. You are comfort. A new blanket wouldn’t work for me. Thank you for believing in me, thank you for holding me down. Thank you for the way you stand there and watch me fall out and have a mental breakdown, and thank you for helping me get back up. And thank you for that lovely gift, that photo of God knows who that you went all out your way to get for me. Oh my God, I’m rolling on the floor, right now. Yo, B, you be killing me over here, I swear.

  I would like to thank Manny Haley because despite the turmoil you put me through and despite our disagreeing with one another and despite the bullshit, I do believe in you. You always come through for me and I do appreciate having you in my corner. I love you, BK, remember that. We have much to do, let’s go!

  I want to thank Leon Blue, boy oh boy. If these people only knew what you be doing for me, and if they only knew that you be saving my ass. And to everybody that does know, I got Blue’s ass back! I will always be here for you. Thank you again.

  I would like to thank Alonzo Harris aka Uncle Boonie. You are a wonderful friend and a good man. Thank you for being my friend.

  I want to thank Mia X. First of all, people should know that you have been in my life
for the past ten years. And in those ten years, I have told you my life story, and you have told me yours. Thank you for being a long-distance ear and a shoulder for me to cry on. And to think, we’ve never met and I want you to know I’ll probably cry when we do. I love you, thank you for being there, thank you for listening, thank you for understanding me.

  I want to thank all the business associates who continually protect my company, all the agents, lawyers, accountants, and consultants that I have the pleasure of working with on a daily basis. Thank you for your expert advice and continued dedication to me and my brand.

  I want to thank everyone out there who has read my books and everyone out there who has supported me. I started out the trunk of the car and, to this day, I still am. To all the people who write to me looking for my books and to all those who visit www.teriwoodspublishing.com and purchase my books from me at my Web site, thank you, thank you, thank you, because that is our future and no one can stop what I want to do online and no one can stop you online. As an independent publisher I just want you to really understand the dynamics of what you have done as a consumer and what you have done for me as an author and independent publisher. I thank you from the bottom, and I will see you at www.teriwoodspublishing.com.

  And last, I want to thank everybody out there who looks out for me, makes my life pleasurable, and shares life with me. I thank you for being in my corner and I couldn’t do life without you.

  Don’t miss the page-turning second installment in Teri Woods’s new series!

  Please see the facing page for a preview of Alibi II.

  Available in 2012

  1986

  BAMBOOZLED

  The State of Pennsylvania v. Bernard Guess

  Day One

  Nard used all of his willpower to contain himself as he sat, pensive and breathless, while the inside walls of the courtroom seemed to spin uncontrollably. His mind was racing a thousand miles a minute, and he saw his life flash in front of him. No way. This isn’t happening. What is she doing? I’ll go to jail for the rest of my life. It was all he could think as he locked his eyes on the witness, Daisy Mae Fothergill. She was sitting calmly on the stand, nodding ever so slightly as she leaned in to the microphone and gave answer after answer.