by Matt Drabble
“I’m telling you it’s the fucking Parkers” Jimmy screamed at the room.
Ghost stood on the outside of the conversation, his position as always was to be the voice of calm and evaluation. He had informed Jimmy of his findings at the Jenkins house, and Jimmy had gone predictably, and clinically nuts. Jimmy had no love for Jenkins or anyone else as far as Ghost knew, but this was an attack on the firm and it could not stand. If Ghost had not been at the house, then he would have been inclined to agree with the assessment. The trouble was, that he was there; he had taken the drive back here slowly, his mind ticking over processing his thoughts and experience.
“It doesn’t feel like the Parkers” he spoke with quiet authority.
The room turned in surprise; normally Ghost held his council during meetings and rarely spoke, other than to reinforce Jimmy’s orders regardless of their validity.
The spacious office was bursting at the seams with muscle, Johnson and Tank were representatives from narcotics, Jimmy insisted on using American colloquialisms whenever possible. There was Grundy from protection and Castle from prostitution. As well as McGinnis and Langstrom from assignments, which were actually assassinations.
Normally Ghost would never have allowed this many lieutenants in one room, but on this, Jimmy was not for turning. Jimmy had always felt the constant need for assertion and constant forward momentum. Even when they had reached the mountain top, Jimmy would have kept going and stormed the heavens if he could. Ghost had once read a quote from Alexander the Great, that perfectly encapsulated Jimmy, it read “When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept, for there were no more worlds to conquer”.
“Of course it’s the fucking Parkers, who else out there would have the balls for something like this. It’s a message, it’s a great fat fucking turd laid at our door” Jimmy raged.
The rest of the room, despite being hardened men of violent means, all wilted under Jimmy’s wrath. Ghost knew that deep down under the mask, Jimmy was loving this, another foe to fight, another enemy to conquer and another war to wage.
“What are you lot of useless shits not telling me? Johnston, how many corners have you lost this week? How about you Castle how many whores have defected?”
“Nothing new to report boss” Johnson’s low rumble replied.
“Same here Jimmy” answered Castle.
The room joined in the protestations, voices chimed with innocence and ignorance, Ghost watched the faces and knew the truth. He could have told Jimmy without the meeting that things were quiet at the minute. It was true that they had lost some corners in the last few months throughout the city, but that was a cost of business. Some whores left to work elsewhere no matter how well you treated them, sellers would always hold a little back, and thieves would keep scores. Jimmy had always believed that if they were scared enough no one would ever rip him off. Ghost knew however, that criminals were criminals; no criminal commits a crime, however large or small, believing that he will be caught, so threats of punishment meant very little.
The Parkers were an up and coming firm, they were young and hungry, but they were also wild and undisciplined. They could take some pieces of their business, but they would never be able to hold them. Ghost considered themselves to be above the petty squabbles of the street by now. His dream was to move them into legitimate business within the next couple of years and leave the street behind. Jimmy however still loved the dirt, he had the mansions, the trophy women, and he had more money than he would ever need. But at heart, he was a gangster and he loved it. Ghost had hoped that with money Jimmy would calm, then perhaps with power obtained Jimmy would slow and perhaps he would find peace, but no, Jimmy’s fire it would seem was eternal.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
November 1993
Ghost heard the screams long before he found the origins, the lockup was deserted and surrounded by dereliction. The narrow road had once been a hive of activity; the lockups housed working men and their projects. Cars and cargo filled the workspaces, angry shouts cursing uncooperative machinery drifted across the oppressive exhaust filled air and vans came and went taking and bringing. The dead end road was now indeed dead, the rows of small industrial units were crumbling, lovers discarded by progress.
Ghost drove up to the lockup at the end of the row, the roof was still hanging on by grim determination alone, the walls were caked and crumbled. All glass coverings were a long distant memory as the weather intruded and nature invaded. Ghost knew what he would find within, Jimmy had been missing for over three hours, and it was far longer than was safe for the fourteen year old to be out of his sight.
The screams were longer and louder as he entered through the dark gaping chasm that had once held a door; the floor was slick with black blood in the moonlight. Inside, a heavy duty spotlight was suspended from the rotting rafters, and a single chair sat below, its illuminated occupant was a bloody mess that used to be Chris Rustler.
Jimmy held his head up to the spotlight, eyes closed, his body swayed to an internal soundtrack, this was the Jimmy that only danced when no one was watching.
Rustler was a local hard case from the neighbourhood, around twenty, all beef and brawn with limited intelligence. Rustler ran the corners for Bennett Drake and Bennett Drake ran everything in Eagleport, drugs, whores, heists, protection, the whole racket. Rustler was mean willed and quick tempered and he wore his battle scars with pride. His reputation was flawless on the street and he was above else, feared by almost everyone. The only two men who did not fear this beast were Ghost who lacked the necessary emotion and Jimmy who did not understand the concept.
Jimmy had targeted Rustler from early on; he had a rudimentary knowledge of how things worked in this world. In order to move up you had to replace your competition, and this was the very definition of a cutthroat business. Even at fourteen Jimmy wanted the world and he did not want to wait. Ghost had pleaded, manipulated, threatened, and cajoled Jimmy into not making such an aggressive move, and he had thought that they had come to an understanding. Yet here they were, Jimmy was about to drown them both in a raging ocean of repercussions, Drake would have to respond to two punks questioning his control. His response would have to be dramatic and public; Ghost knew that at every turn, the streets were watching.
“Jimmy” he called wearily, he had no strength left to fight Jimmy on this, the damage was clearly and bloodily done.
Jimmy turned from his daze; his eyes were dancing like Ghost had never seen before. At first Jimmy struggled to recognize him, his knuckles were skinned raw and bloody and his clothes splattered and ruined.
Ghost turned to inspect Rustler in the vain hope that he may still be retrievable, but it was a forlorn hope. The man was ebbing away before his eyes, the precious lifeblood pooled beneath his shackled feet mingling with scared free urine and the stench of soiling. Ghost wiped a crimson torn wrist and checked for a pulse, what he found was weak and limping towards the finish line. Rustler’s greasy black hair hung limp, both eyes were swollen, his nose twisted at a grotesque angle smeared across his face. Lacerations covered his chest exposed by a torn shirt and the ruins of his manhood lay in his lap.
“Jimmy, what did you do” Ghost asked rhetorically.
“What needed to be done Ghost, only what needed to be done” came the physically exhausted reply.
“Everyone will know about this, everyone is going to know who did this” Ghost pointed.
“That’s kind of the point, we can’t wait forever my friend, we have to take what’s ours, or were all of your plans for nothing?”
“But we had a plan goddammit Jimmy, we had a fucking plan and now that’s all gone to shit” Ghost kicked an old rusty jerry can sending it spinning across the slick floor. “We can’t take on Drake; he’s going to crush us like fucking insects”
“No, he’s not Ghost, what he’s going to do is offer us a job. For all your plans and brains Ghost, I know Drake, I know how he thinks”
Jimmy spoke with a cal
m assuredness that Ghost had never heard before; emotionally Jimmy was either bouncing off the ceiling or curled in a ball, now for the first time, he truly listened to his friend.
“At first he’s going to be pissed, but he’s going to need to replace Rustler and who better than us? We’re known in the neighbourhood, and our rep is better than anyone’s. Drake is all about the business” Jimmy paced methodically as he spoke, “If he crushes us then he’s gained nothing, the streets are full of soldiers but no captains. He has nobody to take over from Rustler; if I were him then I would offer us the job and let it be known that we were acting under his orders to illuminate Rustler the whole time”
Ghost processed this information; it was plausible and maybe even possible.
“But the streets are watching” Jimmy conceded, “They’ll see it as a weakness if anyone ever finds out the truth”
“Yeah, but Drake’s so much bigger than Fresh Havens corners now, he rose above the everyday crap and now owns half the city” Ghost interjected cottoning onto the idea, “Maybe he won’t sweat the small stuff as long as the money keeps rolling in and the natives aren’t restless”
Jimmy smiled, it was warm and giving despite the unenviable surroundings, it was the smile that Jimmy only shared between them, it was a smile between brothers, “Maybe we’re not so different after all”
CHAPTER TWELVE
April 2012
The phone vibrated in Ghost’s pocket, he did not need to check the message as it was one that he was expecting. “Look this is getting us nowhere” he announced loudly to Jimmy’s office laden with their lieutenants.
“This is bullshit” Tank proclaimed. He was a beast of a man, around six feet four and chocked full of muscle. He was thick of neck and broad of chest with massive arms that curled like pythons hanging at his sides. He stood up from the metal chair that groaned in relief, “For fucks sake Ghost, we’re out there working our asses off only to get called into the headmasters office like fucking children” he looked to Johnson for support.
“You’ll take your ass to the fucking moon and back if Jimmy tells you to” Ghost snarled jumping all over the man’s imprudence; it was never a good idea to leave Jimmy the smallest of opportunity windows to feel disrespected.
“This is bullshit, and you fucking know it” Tank jabbed his finger aggressively towards Ghost. “I’m sick and tired of taking orders from the fucking ivory tower when you don’t have a clue what’s going on down in the trenches” he turned to face Jimmy, “And you, you fucking…”
The sound of the slap echoed within the office confines, and Tank’s face already bore the stinging red remnant, Ghost had deliberately used on open hand. Tank was young and eager, desperate for power and high on youth’s exuberance. The slap was shocking and designed for humiliation rather than to inflict physical damage. Ghost as usual, had careful studies on all of their employees; he had files detailing their physical attributes, their skills, their strengths, and their weaknesses. He knew which men could be pushed and which buttons to depress. Tank was all muscle and power; he had a love for violence but only when the odds were significantly stacked in his favour. He was a necessary tool, a weapon to be wielded, but always under close supervision, Jimmy had insisted however, on promotion for the young thug. Since the organization's elevation and the subsequent attention that came with the higher profile, Jimmy had always enjoyed living vicariously through the younger animals. He had earmarked Tank as a new recruit for Kofi’s Boys. Kofi was a smackhead, a drugged up psycho without remorse or compassion. Kofi was the one major conflict between Ghost and Jimmy, Jimmy used Kofi’s Boys for the very worst jobs. The times when he wanted to reach out and wreak vengeance and bloody havoc. Kofi’s Boys were animals, Ghost would have happily put a bullet in all of their heads, but Jimmy would never allow it, and Ghost always seemed to have bigger battles to fight.
Tank stood stunned, his cheek stung and his pride dented, “What the...” he stammered.
Ghost slapped him again, no harder no softer, his eyes bore through the younger bigger man, expressionless, his face granite hard. He turned to Tank’s supervisor, “Johnson, take your boy down stairs before I lose my happy thoughts and forget what a nice guy I am”
With a knowing look, Johnson took the opening and guided his younger shocked colleague out of the office and down towards the bar area.
Johnson was a good deal older than the others at forty three; he had always shown an impressive longevity in the industry through natural instinct. He had seen the worst of the wars come and go, and he was one of the few men in the organization that Ghost would always listen to. He was lean and silver haired, and his face was hard and lined. His profession was burnt into his features, searing the brutality and cruelty into every wrinkle and crevice. Unlike many of their employees, he had a family away from the poison. He did not cheat and sway from his marital bonds; his wife was not from this world and was his island away. He had two sons away at a private school, both doing well and getting decent grades, Ghost knew many things about Johnson, and he believed that Johnson was well aware of his knowledge. The man was careful to keep his professional and private life separate, but Ghost’s database was infamous throughout the organization. Only the very dullest of minds sought to find motivational concealment. Ghost made a mental note to confer with Johnson at a later date, the man’s talents were currently being wasted, and he could be of far more use at a higher level.
The parade of criminals took their leave and trooped out of the office door in a Noah fashion. Jimmy rocked back and forth on his recliner; Ghost could sense Jimmy’s impatience growing, his attention drifting like a five year old child.
The rear door opened, and Eddie’s massive frame entered followed by Tim Rybeck, the detective was nervous and squirrelly. Eddie’s warning text had alerted Ghost to their impending presence as arranged and Ghost had needed the room cleared before their arrival. Rybeck was one of several members of the local constabulary that were on the firm’s books. He was always careful to ensure that only Jimmy, Eddie, and himself knew their identities, and none of the various ranks were aware of each other. Normally he would not have entertained Rybeck at the bar, but today was different, the scene at the Jenkins house had required immediate attention. He would have expected a brief verbal outline of the investigation within twenty four hours followed by an extensive copy of the written report within a few days. When he’d received Rybeck’s coded text only a short time after he arranged for the detective to pay a visit to the murder scene, he’d known something was wrong.
Ghost watched the detective enter, evaluating the man’s mood and attitude. His informants had assured him that Rybeck had arrived alone, there were no suspicious vehicles in the bars vicinity, and no official actions were scheduled towards them this evening. Rybeck appeared calm, his clothes were expertly understated for the occasion, and his walk without stress, his posture was upright and his shoulders un-stooped, back and broad.
“Tim” Ghost started, he always used Christian names whenever appropriate, and he had cultivated the appearance of a friendly relationship with the policeman since the beginning. “I will admit to being somewhat surprised to see you, you remember Jimmy”
Jimmy ignored the detective already fiddling about with the computer; Ghost really did not want to know what sites Jimmy was presently occupying himself with.
“Perhaps we should talk alone” Rybeck replied low gesturing towards Jimmy and Eddie.
“You can speak freely here Tim” Ghost offered impatiently.
“Well I checked out your murder scene, only there was a slight problem”
“Which was?”
“There was no murder”
“You mean the body was gone” Ghost thought back to the house and the impending dark dread.
“Not exactly, the body in question answered the door and made me a cup of tea” Rybeck replied puzzled.
Jimmy perked up at this point suddenly showing interest, “Hang on, let me get thi
s straight, you can’t tell the difference between the living and the dead now” he laughed. “I don’t know Ghost maybe you’re getting too old for this shit, Eddie how’d you feel about a promotion?”
“I don’t think I’d like that boss” Eddie answered, after slow and genuine consideration.
Jimmy pressed on without listening; “You told me she was dead, and that the house was a mess” he aimed at Ghost surprised at the mistake.
“She, and it was” was all he could say. “Her body was lifeless, the windows were blacked out, and the house was dark. I found her behind the sofa on the floor”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you Ghost, I found her answering the front door” Rybeck replied
“How was she?” Ghost inquired.
Rybeck paused thoughtfully, “Well, she did seem a little distant, her answers were a little slow but non-evasive, and in my opinion genuine”
“What about that prick of a husband of hers?” Jimmy interjected, “I need him back at work next week”
Rybeck checked back over his notes from the small black book that he pulled from his inside pocket. “She says that he’s visiting one of the kids at school, some kind of problem, nothing major” he quoted.
“Well that’s that then” Jimmy’s interest was already drifting, “You must be slipping”
“You ever known me to slip before Jimmy” Ghost pondered almost to himself.
“It’s old age Ghost, you are getting on a bit” Jimmy teased obviously relieved that this was one less problem to distract him from his war plans.
“Well if there’s nothing else gentlemen, no offense, but I don’t want to hang around here any longer than necessary” Rybeck said as he eased towards the private exit eager to be away, “I’ll see myself out”
Ghost dismissed him with a preoccupied wave, “Jimmy, something’s very wrong here, I felt it in that house, I saw that woman’s body, and she was dead” he stated as the policeman disappeared down the private staircase.
