Avenging Alex

by Lewis Ericson

  Ade winced as he nursed the gash in his forehead. Jamilah refused to look at him as she cradled a sleeping Cerena in her arms.

  “I do not blame you for hating me,” he said.

  “I asked you not to speak to me,” Jamilah snapped. “You have deceived me in the worst possible way. I couldn’t care less what you have to say now.”

  “I didn’t realize what was being thrust upon me. I thought you were who and what they told me you were. But, you weren’t like they led me to believe at all.”

  Jamilah sneered. “Who exactly did you think I was?”

  “They told me that you and your daughter were criminals. Drug dealers. Fugitives. They showed me newspapers that claimed she was responsible for the deaths of many people. I didn’t know there was a baby involved. All I was supposed to do was gain your trust and get close to you in exchange for the wellbeing of my family.”

  “My daughter is no murderer and neither am I. But, I can’t say the same for the people you did all this for. Xavier Rivera. He is the drug-dealing murderer who is after my daughter.”

  Ade looked forlorn. “They gave me no choice. I didn’t know what to do. I needed to protect my family.

  “At the expense of my family.”

  “I was put in an untenable position. I knew this kind of ruthlessness in Nigeria. I brought my family to this country to get away from that.”

  “So, how did they come to find you, the Yellow Pages?”

  “The girl, Pilar. She approached me a few months ago in the very market where we met. I can only assume now that she had already been watching you.”

  “So, you have proven to be no better than the cruelty you chose to flee. You do realize that these people have no intention of keeping their word.” Jamilah held her chest and wheezed and coughed. “Whatever you were promised is all a lie. What would your Busola say if she could see the kind of man you are now? I hope it was worth it.”

  “Janette—”

  “Do not speak to me. Leave me alone.”

  Jamilah looked around the cluttered room, trying to determine where they were being held. Taking care not to wake Cerena, she stood and walked over to a window that was secured by bars and bolted to a metal frame; wooden boards were nailed on the other side.

  Ade went to the window and grunted as he yanked at them unsuccessfully.

  Jamilah scoffed. “Where was this demonstration of manliness before you were trapped in this ‘untenable position’?”

  Pilar unlocked the door and Gil stepped into the room carrying a tray of food and plopped it down on a table. “Eat up,” he sneered.

  Jamilah glared at him. “I don’t want anything from you people.”

  “It is not our intention to do you any harm, but you need to eat,” Pilar injected. “There’s a bottle for the baby.”

  “I don’t want anything from you people,” Jamilah snapped.

  “It is not poison.” Pilar picked up a piece of toast and took a bite. “You see? If we wanted you dead you would be already.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Your daughter.”

  Ade cagily watched the man guarding the door. He focused in on the gun in his hand as he moved toward the tray and picked up one of the steaming hot cups of coffee.

  “You better not be thinkin’ about doin’ what I think you are, old man.”

  Ade slowly raised the cup to his lips, blew, and took a sip.

  Cerena stirred in Jamilah’s arms and started fussing. “She needs changing.”

  The man stepped outside the door to retrieve a bag and tossed it inside the room. A package of diapers and baby wipes fell out on the floor.

  “You see, we are not barbarians.” Pilar’s smile was drenched in deception. “I even have a prescription for your inhalers.”

  “Oh, and how exactly did you manage that?”

  “You would be surprised what you can accomplish in this country with the right connections. Or perhaps you wouldn’t, after all, that is how you and your daughter were able to assume new identities and go into hiding, is it not?”

  She turned and swiftly left the room. The man followed and locked the door behind them.

  John reviewed his notes to see if there was anything or anyone on Huntington that he failed to question. When the mailman drove up he glanced at his watch and decided to act on a hunch. As the wiry man stepped outside his truck John flashed his badge. “Excuse me, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “What’s this about?” the man asked.

  “Do you work this neighborhood every day?”

  “Not if it’s my day off.”

  “Were you here about this time yesterday?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact I was.”

  “Did you deliver mail to this house?”

  “Yeah, why? Did something happen?”

  “Have you ever seen the people who live here?”

  “Yeah, uh, Miss Janette. She’s a real nice lady and that daughter of hers . . . Man, I’m tellin’ you what. Both of ’em look like they could give you a run for your money, you know what I mean?”

  John cut through his mannish amusement. “Do you remember seeing anything out of the ordinary yesterday? A car that you didn’t recognize? A truck or van? Anything at all?”

  The man pulled his cap off and scratched his thinning hair. “Well, now let me see. I did see a van. It was dark, maybe blue . . . No, I believe it was black.”

  John perked up. “What else? Can you remember anything distinctive about the van?”

  “I remember that it was hanging out in the street enough for me to have to go around it to get to the mailbox. I really hate when that happens. You tell people all the time not to block their mailboxes, but do they listen?”

  “Did you happen to catch the number on the license plate?”

  “No, but then again I wasn’t looking at it. The windows had a heavy tint to ’em, though. Did something happen to Miss Janette or her daughter?”

  “Can you tell me anything else about the van?”

  The man shook his head. “No, sorry. That’s all I remember.”

  John thanked the man and he turned to grab his mail sack from the floor of the truck.

  “Oh, wait a minute. There was somethin’ else. The word Christian somethin’ or other was stenciled on the side. Maybe it was some kind of old church bus. I couldn’t make out any of the other words.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”

  John called Donovan to apprise him of the details that he’d gotten from the mailman.

  Donovan wiped the residue of cocaine from the base of his nose and pinched his nostrils together and hissed, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Harley, it’s John.”

  “What’s up, buddy?”

  “I got a lead I need you to follow up on.”

  “Okay. What ya got?”

  John hesitated. “You all right, man? You sound funny.”

  “Yeah, my sinuses are actin’ up, that’s all.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I came home to get some medicine.”

  “Will you be able to check this out for me?”

  “Yeah, yeah. What ya got?”

  “I found a mailman who saw a dark blue or black church van parked outside the Sullivan house between one-thirty and two o’clock yesterday afternoon. He said it had the word Christian something written on the side of it.”

  Donovan sniffed and ran his fingers through his tousled mane. “That’s kinda vague, John. You have any idea how many church vans in or around Monrovia that could fit that description?”

  “Yeah, I know it’s not a lot to go on, but we can at least run a list and see what comes up. I already got Detective McFarland looking into it. If we pool our resources we should be able to narrow it down.”

  “Okay, I’ll get on it when I get back to the office.”

  “Did you reach out to Obafemi’s son and daughter?”

  “Just waitin’ for a call back.”

  “Keep
me posted.”

  “You got it, buddy.”

  Donovan hung up his phone and snorted another line of cocaine from a small mirrored tray that lay on the table in front of him. He tucked his shirt back into his pants, raked his fingers through his hair again, and placed another call.

  “Chase is still diggin’ . . . No, I got it covered. He doesn’t know any more now than he did before. He’s so strung out on that girl right now he’s about as useful as a pogo stick in quicksand. Don’t worry about it. If he gets any real leads you’ll be the first to know. In the meantime I’m gonna keep after him to tell me where he took the girl.”

  14

  Alex’s pulse quickened when her cell phone rang again. Another unknown caller. She answered it but didn’t say anything right away. She listened to the dead air. “Who is this?”

  “Hola mi querida, Alexandra.”

  She froze.

  “Are you enjoying our little game of cat and mouse?”

  “Xavier.”

  “I’m bored with it myself after all this time. That’s why I’ve decided to accelerate the thrill and make things a bit more interesting.”

  “What did you do to my mother?”

  “Why don’t you ask Inspector Chase?”

  “What?”

  “You are literally sleeping with the enemy. ¿Verdad? How do you think I knew where to find you? La Bella . . . That quaint little bistro the two of you dined in together . . . The hotel you stayed in after. Oh yes, and then there was that very loud, very crowded nightclub in North Hollywood. You looked positively stunning.”

  “It was you I saw.”

  “I just wanted you to know that I was watching, biding my time, waiting for the precise moment to strike.

  “You son of a bitch!”

  “Poor Alexandra, the men in your life constantly disappoint you, don’t they? First there was your father, then your ne’er-do-well husband. Oh, and let’s not forget about the progenitor of that adorable little girl of yours.”

  “What did you do to my baby?”

  “Nothing yet. But what happens now is up to you.”

  Alex’s eyes teared up. “What do you want?”

  “Well, I’m glad you asked. It’s very simple really, I want a pound of flesh. I’ll be in touch.”

  The call ended and Alex jumped when the electronic lock clicked on the hotel room door. She grabbed the gun lying next to her on the bed and cocked it. “John?”

  “Yeah, it’s me.”

  Alex thought about what Xavier said and wondered how else he could have known where she was.

  “Open the door. I brought you some food.”

  “Where are they, John?”

  “Who?”

  “You were in on this from the beginning, weren’t you?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That’s how Rivera knew where to find us. You played me.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Alex stood with her gun trained on the door and didn’t answer.

  “Come on, I hope you know me better than that. Look, I don’t want to talk in the hall like this. Take the latch off the door and let me in. Alex, I’m not involved in this. I swear on the lives of my children. You have to believe me.”

  Alex lowered the gun, unlocked the door, and stepped back into the room. John entered, looking around as if expecting to find someone else there. She flinched when he moved toward her.

  “Give me the gun. I’m not going to hurt you.” He raised the bag in his hand. “See, it’s just Chinese.”

  “You did this. You put this whole thing in motion.”

  “Alex, look at me. Look at me. Do you really think I’m behind all this?”

  Tears streamed down her face. She took a deep breath and guardedly handed over the gun. He promptly removed the clip.

  “You heard from Rivera, didn’t you?”

  She nodded. “He knows I’m here. He knows everything.”

  John sat the bag down on the bureau and pulled Alex into an embrace. “You’re shaking.”

  “I’ve never felt so helpless.”

  “Did he say anything that would give you an indication of where he was?”

  “No. But he did say that I was sleeping with the enemy. How would he know that, John? How else would he know where I worked, or about the restaurant in L.A., or the hotel we stayed in that night?”

  John pulled away and looked at her.

  “What is it?”

  “Your best enemies are the ones you don’t see comin’. Dammit! How could I be so fuckin’ stupid?” John smacked his forehead repeatedly. “I should have known.”

  “You should have known what?”

  “It’s Donovan. It has to be Donovan.”

  “Your partner? Harley Donovan? He’s working with Rivera?”

  “Him and his dumb-ass good ol’ boy act.”

  “What?”

  “Donovan told me that his grandfather used to tell him that your best enemies are the ones you don’t see comin’. Rivera said you were sleeping with the enemy. He may have tipped his hand and he doesn’t even realize it.”

  “What makes you think it’s Donovan?”

  “He found out about you from somebody and it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

  “But why would—”

  “I hope to God I’m wrong, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

  “What if you’re not wrong?”

  “Then I’m gonna play his game. If he is mixed up in this I got to make him think he’s still in control. It may be our only chance to get your mother and baby back.”

  Despite Jamilah’s attempts to calm her with singing, Cerena would not be placated. Her face reddened and her earsplitting tantrum echoed in the room.

  “Shhhh . . . shhhh . . . shhhh,” Jamilah pleaded while rocking her and pacing the floor.

  “Shut her up,” Gil shouted from the other side of the door.

  Ade sat contemplatively. Jamilah thought that he almost looked as if he was praying; something perhaps he should have done before ever submitting to the machinations of a monster.

  The door flung open and Gil raged in. “I warned you to shut that brat the hell up!”

  Ade grabbed the serving tray from the bureau, sending dishes flying, and smashed Gil in the face as hard as he could. Blood sprayed from his nose and he fell back against the doorframe. Ade raised the tray to strike again as Gil rebounded and fired two shots into his chest.

  Jamilah screamed and shielded Cerena’s face to her bosom. Ade fell backward, clawing at an empty bureau and hitting his head as he sank to the floor. Gil kicked at his body, ensuring he was dead, before turning on Jamilah. “I’m gonna tell you one last time.”

  A fit of coughing and wheezing overtook her, causing her to hyperventilate.

  “Gil!” Pilar charged in and wrestled the gun from him. “¡Estúpido cabron! What the hell did you do?”

  “He attacked me,” Gil defended. He wiped the blood from his face and held his hand out to her. “Look!”

  The chaos was underscored by Cerena’s muted cries and Jamilah’s struggling for air.

  Pilar checked Ade for a pulse. “You killed him?”

  “He was tryin’ to run,” Gil answered.

  “You couldn’t have just knocked him unconscious?”

  “What are we gonna do about the old lady?”

  Pilar tucked the gun into the waistband of her jeans and ran cursing into the other room to retrieve an inhaler. When she came back into the room she tossed it toward Jamilah and it landed near her feet. Shaking and clinging to Cerena, Jamilah picked up the device and frantically pumped the medication into her lungs without a second thought. After several minutes she was breathing normally again.

  “Are you feeling better?” Pilar asked.

  Jamilah nodded as anguished tears flowed and pooled at the base of her neck. “Could I please have a glass of water?”

  Pilar glowered at Gil, who had his head back with a rag pressed against his no
se. “Get rid of him and clean all of this up,” she commanded.

  Jamilah turned away, unable to watch Gil carelessly hauling Ade’s lifeless body from the room, leaving behind a bloody precursor for what lay ahead.

  “Harley, what’s up?”

  “We found the van.”

  “Where?”

  “It was spotted by hikers at the base of Mount Bliss four miles east of Sawpit Canyon.”

  John glanced over to be sure that Alex was still asleep and moved to the window. “What about Janette Sullivan and the baby?”

  “No trace of them, but Obafemi was inside. He took two slugs to the chest.”

  “Any word on his family?”

  “I finally spoke to his son-in-law. They didn’t know what he’d been into here. Apparently his daughter hadn’t talked to him in over a week. I’m still trying to reach his son. Different time zones, you know.”

  “I guess it doesn’t matter now.”

  “Not unless the dead man tells us something.”

  “I’m more concerned about what the live one has to say,” John sneered.

  “Huh?”

  “Did you find any prints in the van or anything that might tell us anything other than we already know?”

  “Forensics is sweeping it now. They’re supposed to let me know if they come up with anything.”

  “Whoever’s doing this won’t stop until they get their hands on Alex. Maybe it’s time to throw out some bait.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, it’s like yo’ dear ol’ granddaddy Herman might say, ‘to catch rats the cats take off their gloves.’” John disconnected the call and turned to Alex, who had awakened.

  “What is it? What’s happened?”

  “Obafemi’s dead.”

  “Oh, God. What about my mother?”

  John shook his head. “No sign of her yet.”

  “So, what are we supposed to do now?”

  “Now it’s time to trap a big country-ass, redneck rat.”

  15

  Surrounded by the extravagant spoils of the drug profits he’d secreted away, Xavier Rivera slammed down the telephone receiver and scowled. The strapping Colombian combed his fingers through his now-short bleached mane and clenched his teeth. The unexpected news that Ade Obafemi was dead seemed more necessary than not; still he couldn’t afford any more recklessness. Against his better judgment he decided that he would risk yet another return to the States and see to the satisfactory conclusion of this intrigue personally.