A team of seven consisting five men and two women who ran Erik’s operation in his absence sat in tense silence as he entered the spacious limo. They had prepared a brief presentation that would bring him up to speed on his business operation. None of them seemed jubilant over their boss’ release.
Erik shut the door inwards and ordered the driver to wind down his window. He took a long hard stare at the prison gates and inhaled the welcoming air of freedom.
Erik’s eyes met with those of a stocky prison guard. The guard immediately felt grateful he hadn’t gone out of his way to offend New York’s most dangerous man.
Erik signaled the driver to wind up the window and drive forward. He sensed his subordinate’s nervousness. He couldn’t blame them. He could be a very difficult man and they all knew it. A major flaw had eventuated in his absence and someone had to come up with answers. Franco Defreitas aka F48D2, a native Newyorker whom he’d taken off the streets, groomed and given charge to overseer his entire operation, had connivingly betrayed him and stolen a fortune from him.
Twenty six years aback, Erik and The Shadow, another man he literally owned, embarked on a mission to eliminate the leader of an arising gang who posed serious threats to his business. They had already wasted two of his men and were violently interrogating another when the FBI barged in on them. They were both tried, found guilty and sentenced to twenty five years of hard labour in the calaboose. Erik had many adversaries and he’d never quite figured out who had so cunningly setup the both of them. In his absence he’d mandated Franco to oversee his empire. Six years before Erik’s release, it was brought to his attention that Franco had mysteriously disappeared. An invaluable chunk of his fortune went missing too.
Seven of his more loyal workers were immediately teamed and charged with the responsibility to direct his empire. There was no way he was going to entrust another man or woman with absolute power over his assets. The team had launched a thorough investigation into Franco’s disappearance and found out that he had retired on a little Caribbean island and was living a very lavish life.
Erik’s connections were far reaching. They went way beyond the Caribbean’s boundaries. Eliminating Franco was as easy as Sunday morning but there was a major problem. Information reached him that Franco had already used up much of his fortune to gain relevance among other wealthy businessmen, lawyers, politicians, civilians, the police force and the prison alike. He was living the life of a celebrity.
‘What a treacherous snake!’ the news infuriated Erik to the core. He had to admit that years spent around him had carved Franco into a master of deception. A part of him lashed out at himself for placing too much confidence in him. It was always the ones that you trust the most who stabbed you in the back with the longest dagger. The fortune used by Franco was a sheer drop in the ocean compared to what he’d hidden far away from human reach. Getting rid of Franco would be Erik’s final option. He needed him alive; he had one last deed in store for him.
Erik spent an unnecessary year behind the ugly prison bars. His initial sentence was twenty five years but his fellow inmate and protector, The Shadow had gotten into a bitter brawl with a member of a Latino gang and was about to be fatally stabbed in the neck when Erik quickly intervened. His daring intervention had caused the man serious injuries to his face but had landed him an extra year behind the cold prison walls. Erik developed a one track mind. Upon his release, he was going to deal with Franco once and for all even if it meant visiting the island himself. No one stole from him and got away. A few months before his release, he hired two local criminals on the island to look into Franco’s case. They were to employ whatever maneuvers necessary to restore some of the fortune that was stolen from him. Erik also hired and deployed two of his finest female assassins to the island. S54B3, a heartless Canadian who appeared innocent at face value and K55A4, a close family member who vowed never to get married for fear of killing her husband long before the cheating game began. Neither of those he hired knew they were assigned to the same mission. They were also from different countries and were clueless who each other were. Erik had developed a habit for coding his criminals in order to safeguard them and furthermore his investments. The Shadow was his only exception. His ability to execute a kill with brutal efficiency earned him the name The Shadow although he was long out of prison by then. He would have been the perfect man to assign to Franco’s case. The guy was ruthless, impatient, and had a natural obsession for killing.
Information had reached Erik that after the brutal crimes The Shadow had committed in New York, he’d found a way to blend in comfortably among ordinary civilian in the Caribbean and go unnoticed. That kind of life would be a dream come true for an assassin who wants out of the trade and was seeking peace of mind. Erik longed for that kind of peace. Fortunately, The Shadow had found himself the easy way out. He owed his entire life to Erik and though Erik had the kind of power to reel him back into the life, he too owed The Shadow a debt of gratitude for saving his life on numerous occasions.
Sixteen ……………
Shakira delivered the green sac containing two million dollars to a location she considered safe. The money now rested in safe hands. Baptist hadn’t the slightest clue it was in her possession and he was never going to find out. She did not intend to further complicate matters.
****
S54B3 held up the green sac of neatly bundled hundred dollar notes. It was delivered to her without having to put up a fight. She never imagined her first mission would be with such ease. Her boss would be pleased with the news she had for him. She knew it was just the beginning of her assignment and that the rest wasn’t going to be as easy as recovering two million. Her most recent mission had challenged her to assassinate five men in order to recover a meager hundred Grand. She hadn’t made any kill on the island yet but one thing was for certain; sooner or later in the scheme of things, she had to bid Shakira a regrettable goodbye.
She picked up the black satellite phone from a small table and dialed her boss who had been released from New York state prison a few hours earlier.
Sunday 11:15 am
Seventeen ……………
The beachfront in Koconut Breeze’s immediate vicinity appeared uncharacteristically empty. Shakira expected it to pick up in little time. She was late for work by about an hour and a quarter but thankfully she was the one who usually opened up on a Sunday. A few minutes after her arrival, Abdullah pulled into the parking and hadn’t delayed to help around the restaurant. He was such a handy guy. Ever since Mr. Cullingberg hired him, he eyed her with keen interest. They secured a good working relationship and got along just fine but Shakira never intended to cross the line with him. Abdullah wasn’t her type; he was too sweet a guy. Her life usually surrounded dangerous men and she didn’t want to bring trouble to such a nice guy like him. He deserved much better than her.
Two of Shakira’s subordinate staff showed up and joined in getting the restaurant ready.
Without a moment’s notice, the beach became alive again with tourists. On one end of the beach, a game of beach cricket between a group of British tourists and a few local boys was in full swing. A game of volleyball was also in progress. The usual water sports began with a chain of jet skiers and windsurfers. Two catamarans anchored near shore and awaited a contingent of day-trippers for a daylong excursion. Somewhere in a visible distance, a pastor had just finished plunging a young man who was fully clad in white apparel underwater.
‘Go in peace and sin no more!’ he motioned the youngster forward as another approached.
A notorious local beach bum who was famous for going to bed with both male and female vacationers as a way of life occupied one of the tables at Koconut Breeze. He was totally immersed in a dialogue with three mature looking white females. One of them was bound to fall victim to his extraordinary services.
****
The Shadow sipped on a glass of local rum punch that was offered him by a group of American holidaymakers at
Koconut Breeze. He blended in well under the guise of an ordinary civilian. He had gotten enough sleep to carry him throughout the day. His mission was far from over. He covertly eyed the blonde bartender. She appeared less pretty in the photo he carried. He would visit her when darkness falls again. He would have her tried and she would definitely give him the answers he was looking for. If found wanting, she was going to pay big-time but first, he had unfinished business with her boyfriend.
Eighteen ……………
Inspector Cooper appeared pensive as he studied the charred corpse that was pulled out of the burnt garage in Fitches Creek. A sudden streak of crimes had reached the shores of little Antigua. Three dead bodies had been discovered in less than twenty four hours.
Inspector Cooper surmised the deaths as no coincidence. They had to be connected one way or another.
Two of the dead men were known drug dealers that went ages back. The other was a chronic addict who depended on his older brother for almost an eternity. Their demise had to be drug related. Cooper couldn’t quiet place the pieces together. Whosoever was behind those crimes did a good job at covering their tracks. Cooper needed a lead on the case but was clueless where to begin.
‘What’s our next move, Inspector?’ an aspiring detective named Charlene interrupted. An idea that was certainly going to give Cooper some headway on the case came from out of nowhere.
‘Call the ambulance and give them directions!’ ‘Uhhh…well…I meant the investigation, sir.’ Inspector Cooper had trained many detectives during his tenure in the force. He was an expert at spotting new talents.
Charlene was exceptionally savvy and if she hung around for a while she was going to go places in the police force. Charlene was the inquisitive type who asked a truckload of questions but Cooper hadn’t intended on making her journey an easy one. He had to be sure she wasn’t going to crumble under pressure.
‘Call the ambulance! Goddammit! And hurry!!!’ Charlene didn’t say another word. She cupped her mouth firmly as if to shut off any other word that would escape her. She moved away in a shameful imitation of a dog placing its tail safely between its legs after being discomfited by its master. Charlene hadn’t taken a full ten strides away when she impulsively turned and headed back in his direction. ‘Didn’t you hear me?’ Cooper barked at her.
She ignored him completely.
‘Sir, I have an idea that will set us on a path to solving these crimes.’
Cooper focused his entire attention on Charlene. It was the first time she’d disobeyed his orders. She was clearly being insubordinate. If not, then what she had to say had to be of utmost importance.
Cooper gave her the benefit of the doubt.
‘You got one minute! Shoot!’ Cooper listened with vague optimism as Charlene reminded him that the older brother of one of the dead victims was spotted entering a Sedan Buick with one of the murdered victims. It was like she’d clairvoyantly shuffled through his mind. She enunciated the exact thoughts that came to him earlier. It was exactly those kinds of abilities that had awarded her the privilege of being his lead investigator.
Nineteen ……………
In the dead of dawn, Baptist crouched low behind a black Land Cruiser on Old Parham road impound lot. He entered the property illegally and scanned the entire compound. He could have wound up lucky but the Land Cruiser parked in the lot wasn’t the one that carried the grand prize he feverishly sought after.
Baptist was determined to find the two million dollars. His brother’s life valued much more than two million and the two children he left behind deserved to share some of it. Different models of vehicles sped along the highway adjacent to the impound lot. Baptist swiftly but subtly eased himself through the opening in the wired fence. In the midst of it all, Shakira was closest to his mind. Her apartment was exactly where he would be headed next. He hadn’t heard from her since her last texted message; it worried him. It was unlike Shakira to not communicate with him for long spells. She was the kind of woman that would call throughout the day until she’d gotten hold of him.
The tall rastaman that assisted Baptist sat impatiently in a Mitsubishi Nativa at a crossroad opposite the fence. Baptist entered and they were on the move straightaway. Twenty minutes later, Baptist instructed the man to stop two hundred meters away from Shakira’s apartment.
He pasted the rasta’s hand with a hundred dollar note. Before the words thank you fell out of the man’s mouth, Baptist was already across the road and on the move. He zigzagged through different streets in the neighborhood; a simple ploy to confound any trailing culprits.
The sun had already begun to trade its crimson shade for a light golden glow.
Shakira had mentioned that her workplace would open at about 10am but 10am was still a distance. Thoughts of her firm young body reclined on the bed swallowed him. He was famished and wired yet he craved her flesh.
A surge of gladness jolted him into life. He placed the spare key into the deadbolt with unadorned swiftness before easing himself inside.
Shakira’s apartment was as quiet as death. She wasn’t home. That Pretentious sonofagun!!! Where could she be? Baptist sudden arousal for Shakira died on the spot.
There were no signs of Shakira’s reappearance since she’d left home the day before. The apartment was intact; the exact way she left it the thoughts scoured through playing me all along? That was the last thing he wanted. Lately, he’d begun investing much trust in her. To learn that she was secretly sharing her magical piece of womanflesh with someone else would destroy him.
He switched on Shakira’s radio and turned it at a low volume. An ongoing talk show about tsunamis came on. He wasn’t interested. As far as Baptist was concerned, a tsunami had never hit the island and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. He turned a few more channels and found nothing of interest.
Shit…you know what? I can do with some quiet right now! He switched off the radio and rummaged the refrigerator to search for anything that would help curb his hunger or his thirst. The fridge was absolutely stacked. He settled for a winter cold beer. He then relieved himself of the filthy shirt and pants he had on. He threw himself on Shakira’s bed. He had never felt more tired in his life. A crumpling sound of delicate plastic rubbing together brought a renewed focus to the envelope he carried in his pocket. Baptist reached inside his pocket for the partially torn envelope. He stretched a full length across the bed to snatch a box of cigarette and a lighter on the bed’s head. He instantaneously lit one up and breathed a heavy sigh of relief mixed with cigarette smoke. No better combination than a cold beer while taking a drag! It was the first time he felt relaxed in hours.
Baptist stopped to gather his thoughts before opening up the envelope. He wondered if Shakira was in another man’s arms previous day. The nastiest of Baptist’s mind. Had she been
experiencing limitless bliss or whether she was trapped in a web of danger brought upon her by his involvement with Smallmoney.
Baptist reached inside the envelope for the document. He placed it flat on the bed. It unfolded multiple times. He began to scan through it thoroughly to better analyze the information therein contained. For the many years he’d patronized Jolly Harbour, Baptist never imagined being in possession of the original layout of its development plan. An encircled section on the map with the words “Hidden Treasure” became his main point of interest.
Property Map (ownership # F48D2)
Hidden Treasure
Restaurants
Duchess Casino
Water World
Canal
It was the area marked hidden treasure on the map that had cost Smallmoney and his brother their lives.
A determined assassin was now set on his path because of the map. A sudden outburst of rings from Shakira’s home telephone shifted Baptist’s focus.
‘Hello…’ Baptist answered with raw curiosity.
‘Hello…’ a stern male voice came on. There was a long pause before he spoke again.
‘This is Inspector Daniel Cooper calling from the Criminal Investigation Department. I’m trying to get in touch with Mr. Baptist Silver.’
Franco Defreitas crowd of gamblers Casino from the monitor room where he stood.
Business was good and he intended to keep it that way. The island was imbued with a new generation of multi-million dollar tycoons that competed mercilessly to stay on top. He too had to do all in his power to remain in the ranking. He hadn’t received any word about his treasure map and the two million dollars but he was certain The Shadow was making good headway. Reports of the death of the two bandits that had stolen from him brought him great delight. There was no way anyone was going to steal from him and escape.
It was ironic that he emulated such ruthless principle from his former boss who he himself had stolen from and betrayed. He couldn’t allow the map to fall in the hands of crooked politicians or his fellow businessmen who all met with each other in circles behind the scenes. Within moments, it would all be over for him. He already foresaw them putting on a public charade while surreptitiously plotting to locate the treasure and distribute it among themselves.
Franco eyed a local troublemaker on one of his monitors with utter contempt. He did all he could to deter them from entering his Casino but they kept coming back like German roaches on the rampage. The customers that were being pestered appeared incontrovertibly disturbed. Their eyes undisguisedly circumnavigated the building as if ask; how comes this two-time bum hasn’t been thrown out of the building as yet?
Franco reached for a small walkie-talkie and immediately summoned one of his security guard to take control of the situation.
Twenty ……………
glanced down admiringly at the vast that religiously patronized Duchess ‘Get this tramp out of my Casino…you hear? I don’t pay you to stand around doing nothing!!!’ he had a tendency of taking erratic action when angered although he was at a juncture where he needed to remain as balanced as possible. Franco replaced the walkie-talkie. He reached for his cellphone not actually remembering the person he was about to call before his short tantrum. He had developed a safe and hassle-free way to manage most of his affairs via a secured line without having to meet with anyone. His voice was rather known but his face could only be seen by those worthy of a direct meeting with him. In Franco’s world, he did the calling but could only be reached at his discretion. The Shadow was his only exception. He operated in the absence of phone calls although he owned a specially coded satellite phone that always registered as unknown number. You were better off answering when he called because there was no guarantee his phone was going to ring a second time.
Caribbean Rage Page 6
