by Guy Johnson
“You’re not thinking of helping him!” Sandra protested. “He said he’s got help—”
Lincoln put up his hand. “You don’t understand, honey. Jackson saved my life. I owe him big-time.”
Sandra sputtered, “Whe-when was this?”
“Fifteen years ago, one night after Pres’s sister’s wedding.”
“The Titans!” Dan exclaimed. “I’ve done my best to suppress that memory. But the truth is, he and Wesley saved all our asses that night. I was sure we killed some of them, but there was never any mention of it in the papers, nor any police investigation.”
Pres shook his head. “It’s a mystery I’m sure we’d all like to forget.”
“Not me.” Lincoln leaned forward in his chair and looked Jackson in the eye. “I’ve never forgotten that night and I want you to know if you ever need me, I’ll be there. You can count on me.” Sandra started to protest again, but Lincoln quieted her with a look.
Jackson was moved. “Thank you, bro. I hope never to have to ask you, but thank you.”
“Let’s vote and get finished,” Anu said with a clap of her hands. “Talk, talk, talk! Talk is cheap when there is still so much to do like laundry, cooking, checking summer-school project assignments! We know what we will do already! We take the offer!” Anu looked around the room and received nods from Sandra, Lincoln, and Dan. She gave Pres a challenging smile and said, “That’s that! Discussion over! Take a vacation, Pres.”
Pres was resigned. He raised a hand in a gesture of concession. “If this is the will of the majority, so be it.”
“Good!” Anu declared. Then she looked around the room and demanded, “Is there anything more that can be decided now?”
Pres admitted with reluctance, “I guess not.”
“Then life must go on! Chores must be done! No more talking!” Anu clapped her hands. “No one else has four children! The Strongs must be organized big-time! Let’s go!”
Everyone got to their feet and good-byes were being said when Anu called out, “Just because I rushed you all doesn’t mean that I don’t love you.”
Lincoln waved from the door as Sandra said her good-byes, then the Shues went out to their car.
Anu said to Pres, who was standing by the door, “You, I worry about. Please be careful.” She gave him a swift hug.
Pres returned her hug. “Thanks, Anu. I love you, too.”
Jackson called out to Pres, “I gave you my number. Call me if you want a place to stay.”
“I’ll call you in the next day or so. But remember: Using violence to resolve a problem is like taking a strong medicine with side effects that are so immense they alone could kill you!” With that Pres waved and walked out into the evening air.
Anu squeezed Jackson’s shoulder. “I must get the children to laying out their clothes for tomorrow. You be careful too.” She gave Jackson a kiss on the cheek and turned back toward the kitchen, leaving Jackson and Dan standing at the door, talking.
Jackson said, “Your wife’s got spirit!”
Dan rubbed his arm. “She moves too fast sometimes! She doesn’t know how to hold back. I’m thinking about putting the old girl on Valium.”
“You did real well not to interrupt Pres during his karma lecture.”
“You saw that? I wanted to punch a few holes in Pres’s goody-two-shoes speech.”
“I liked what he said. Pres has a good heart!”
Dan put his hand over his mouth and belched. “I love him, but I swear to Buddha, whenever he starts bringing in Eastern religions to make his point I feel the forces of flatulence pressing on my abdomen.”
“Everything gives you gas,” Jackson observed.
Dan dismissed Jackson’s observation with a wave of his hand. “By the way, whatever happened to Elizabeth?”
“She hasn’t returned my calls.”
“I knew when she just walked away at the shooting range that things had gone to shit. What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. What can I do?” Jackson answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh,” Dan said as he recalled a forgotten point, “Wesley’s funeral is next Sunday, and you know his mother has no money and his brothers are useless. I talked to the guys and we’re paying for all the funeral costs, but Wesley was paying for all her in-home care. Without his help, she’s going to be forced to move into some type of home. We thought you—”
“Not even an issue,” Jackson interjected. “I’ll take care of everything. She still has other sons who will be there for her.”
“That’s what makes you my brother.”
“I love you too, man. I’m just so sorry that it had to come down this way.” Jackson turned away with a wave and walked sadly to his car. The full weight of Wesley’s death was just beginning to sit upon his shoulders.
Dan shouted to him as he drove away, “Take care of yourself, bro, and keep your pistol cocked!”
Tuesday, July 6, 1982
Jackson awoke from a restless night’s sleep. He had been dreaming of the last summer he had spent with his grandfather. It was not a pleasant dream. It always started the same way. His ears were filled with the sounds and images of gunfire and explosions. Laid on top of that were the wailing screams of people in pain. He was in a darkened room in which a hand grenade had exploded. He was stepping over the mangled bodies of women and children, and despite the darkness he was able to see their bloody faces. Thus did his night continue until the soft light of early morning brought him a tired but grateful wakefulness.
The demon faces of the dead departed with the sun’s arrival, but they left a sense of foreboding which oppressed him. Trying to shake off his distress, Jackson moved steadily through his morning routine, but the malaise clung to him like a wet suit. Wesley’s death and the attacks on Pres and Rhasan had shaken him. Yet he really couldn’t focus on those issues, because he was distracted by thoughts of Elizabeth. She had departed the shooting range without a word. She hadn’t returned any of his calls. Every time he thought of her he felt a pain in his chest as if it were being squeezed by a vise.
He turned on the shower and got into it before the water had warmed up, hoping that the coldness of the spray would bring the alertness and clarity that he seemed to lack. Instead, the cold water merely confirmed his sense of foreboding. After his shower and shave, he donned his sweats and went down to the kitchen to get coffee.
Carlos, also dressed in sweats, was sitting at the table staring out the window at Alamo Square Park when Jackson walked into the kitchen with a towel, drying his hair.
“Is there any coffee left?” Jackson asked as he rubbed the towel over his head.
“There’s the end of the pot.” As Carlos watched Jackson pour himself some coffee he said gruffly, “I wish you’d stop acting like you’re playing a game. These people are killers. You think you can go around counting coup and it will mean something. These assholes will shoot you right off your horse just like they did the Indians. I go out of town for a few days and you do something stupid!”
Jackson sat down across the table from Carlos and replied, “Carlos, you can’t kill everyone. This isn’t Mexico. All I did was tell DiMarco to stop bothering my friends. His family is in the midst of an election, what can he do?”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t try the same thing with John Tree. You might not be standing here now. Let me tell you the only reason your enemies haven’t done more is that they don’t trust one another. We don’t want them to coordinate their actions. We want to catch them unawares.” Carlos looked Jackson in the eye and said, “Anyway, I’m more concerned about your mind-set and your strategy. You’ve weakened your position.”
“How?”
“You’ve given DiMarco information. He knows now that you are someone to contend with. He will be more careful, more guarded. If I knew exactly what you said, I could probably point out more information you gave away. And as important, you have blown the element of surprise.”
“I thought I’d
make him consider his actions more carefully.”
Carlos rebutted, “We don’t want him to consider his actions more carefully! We want him to feel secure, that there is no one to challenge him. Overconfidence self-destructs against a prepared opponent. You gained nothing. Making yourself known to him will not stop him. The only thing deterring DiMarco is the election. Understand you’re being hunted now. They know that you are the only one authorized to sign over ownership of the documents and that this can only be done at the Central Bank in downtown Oakland. They’re working hard trying to find you.”
Jackson nodded his head. The logic of Carlos’s words was irrefutable. He stared out the large window that overlooked Alamo Square Park. He remembered when the thought of going to the park filled him with anticipation. Sounds emanating from the kitchen interrupted his musings. The banging of pots and pans seemed strident. He had not yet grown used to having Theresa perform all his domestic chores.
Jackson stood up tiredly and said, “I’ve got to make a phone call.” Theresa smiled at him when Jackson went past the kitchen sink to use the phone in the living room. He called Elizabeth and left a message on her home phone, then rejoined Carlos at the breakfast table.
Carlos smiled and asked, “You called the woman? The one you’re dating?”
Jackson countered, “Is everything your business?”
Carlos smiled even more broadly and said with a tilt of his head, “Only when it comes to your safety. You must know that this is a dangerous time to get involved. You might be jeopardizing her life as well. Have you thought this out?”
“I haven’t thought anything out. But it doesn’t matter. She and I are over. She doesn’t want to see me again. She won’t return my calls. It seems that the criminal aspects of my new life aren’t appealing to her. I can’t say that I’d be thrilled to get involved with a woman who admitted to me that she had killed in the past and might kill again in the future. I’d be looking for the door before she got my address.”
Carlos studied Jackson and observed, “You really like her, eh?”
“More than I knew. She sort of stays on my mind.”
“Well, let’s change the subject,” Carlos said with a sigh. “You ready to work out?”
Jackson said, “You really want to do this knife stuff seven days a week, Carlos?”
“Fate rewards preparation. It punishes those who underestimate the level of will and discipline it takes to survive and win.” Carlos paused to let his words sink in, then asked, “Are you ready to work out now?”
Jackson nodded his head resignedly and stood up. He followed Carlos down the stairs to the basement workout area and showers. The workout space was a large, open room with weights and boxing equipment similar to that located in the house in Mexico City, but the room was larger and had a fifteen-foot sparring ring in one corner. After some initial stretching, they entered the ring. Carlos handed him a large rubber Bowie knife and they began going through the patterns of the various thrust, slash, and parry positions. Carlos spent the first hour working on overhand attack movements. The second hour was spent on full-contact in-fighting, using arm and hand blocks. Jackson’s wrists and forearms were sore and he was sweating when they finished.
Carlos, who looked surprisingly fresh, clapped him on the shoulder and said, “You’re getting it. Don’t be impatient. It takes practice. It takes time. We’ll work on underhand attacks and parries all of next week. Your martial arts training gives you a good basis to build on.”
Later, as Jackson grabbed a couple of towels off the shelf and tossed one to Carlos, he asked, “Where did you learn knife fighting?”
“Your grandfather sent me to Brazil to learn how to use a seven-inch blade. I worked four hours a day with a master for nearly six months. Then the next year I trained with a man in Miami for a couple months. After that I used to go back to Miami every year or so until he died.”
“Have you had cause to use this skill?”
“Many times. Too many times.” Carlos shrugged as he put his towel around his neck. “But you only have to need it once to cherish it.”
“My grandfather sent you to learn this? Were you training to be a bodyguard?”
Carlos suggested, “We can continue this conversation while we eat.” He led the way upstairs into the kitchen. As if their entrance were a signal, Theresa put two large, steaming plates of shredded pork with eggs and cheese cooked in a red sauce on the table. Then she brought over a warm stack of handmade tortillas. The two men fell upon on the food and did not stop to talk until their plates were nearly clean.
Jackson pushed his plate away. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” Theresa came and collected his plate with a nod of approval. Jackson waved his hand in salute. “Thank you, Theresa; that was excellent.” She acknowledged his words with another nod and busied herself in the kitchen. “So talk to me, Carlos. Were you training to be a bodyguard or what?”
“The year after El Indio was killed in the raid on El Jaguar, Federico Ramirez was killed during a dinner by an assassin who posed as part of the catering crew. He had a knife as his only weapon, yet his skill was such that he killed three of our men before he was subdued. I was responsible for setting up security that day. It was a lapse on my part; I didn’t check out all the staff sufficiently. Guilt made me want vengeance. I wanted to search out those behind the attack and kill them all with knives.” Carlos made a fist as he finished speaking and seemed to sink into a reverie.
Jackson said nothing. He had never heard Carlos speak with such intensity. For a moment, Jackson had an uncharacteristic view deep into Carlos’s interior and saw a boiler room with blazing flames rather than the austere fluorescence of a cold fusion system he had presumed would be there. It made Jackson realize how little he actually knew about Carlos. He asked, “And did you exact revenge?”
“Yes, all blood debts are paid. I killed all three men with the blade.”
“Damn, if you don’t sound like my grandfather!”
“Your grandfather understood my need for revenge, that I needed to spill the blood of these men to atone for my mistake. He told me that before I could get his approval for such a mission I would have to train with a master.”
Theresa put a bowl of fruit on the table and two glasses of water then said something in Spanish to Carlos. He translated to Jackson, “She says leave your laundry on the floor like you always do and she’ll get it later, but now she has to hurry to her English class.”
Jackson laughed ruefully. He had to admit that Theresa was a competent, organized housekeeper and other than her coffee, an excellent cook. It was the fact she had assumed responsibility for organizing everything that happened under his roof that occasionally grated upon him. She acted like she was family. And for all intents and purposes she was, for there was no way he could terminate her employment. He waved his thanks. Theresa gave him a big smile and left the room.
Carlos stared after her and said, “You are very fortunate to have Theresa. She works hard and she is loyal and courageous. Plus, she likes you. If you treat her right, she might even serve you in bed.” Carlos smiled. “She is a solid woman with a nice body, no?”
Jackson shook his head, “Sometimes you are too eloquent to be a simple security specialist. She is attractive in her own way, but I have someone in my heart already.”
“Who said I was simple? I run a major security service. I make pitches and presentations to major corporations. The vast majority of my clients are American corporate executives who live overseas, particularly South America. Your grandfather asked me to handle this particular assignment personally and I was happy to do it. Of course, he paid me well. He left me the security business.”
“My grandfather ran a security business?”
“Not originally; it was something he built up over the years to protect himself. He had a pretty good network when I came up with the idea to sell our services so that we could keep the good people full-time on the payroll.”
“Does sec
urity work always entail the physical elimination of the opponent?”
“Only occasionally. I could have as much work as I wanted, if I wanted to do removals. Cash in a suitcase, no questions asked!”
Jackson shook his head in disgust. “I don’t need or want to know any more. I want to get through this and be finished with it.”
“Your life is changed now; you can’t ever go back! If you want to live to a ripe old age, like your grandfather, you’ve got to develop an alertness, a consciousness of your surroundings and the people in it.”
“Don’t you get it?” Jackson barked. “I don’t want my grandfather’s life! I can’t think of anyone who I’d like my life patterned after less!”
“Why not? He lived a full life and did what he wanted. He was a man who took no word of insult from any man no matter his color at a time when it was dangerous for black men to be publicly defiant. He stood tall among all men. When he died, he was tired of living. What better way to live a life? He was generous with his wealth and assistance and as a result had many friends, people who would risk their lives for him. As I said, he stood tall among men.”
“You make it sound like he was a Good Samaritan. That’s not the man I remember. I remember a hard man who gave no quarter and expected none. He was feared and then respected.”
“Maybe he learned something since that last summer you spent in Mexico,” Carlos suggested. “Maybe we all did.”
Jackson nodded, then changed the subject. “Tomorrow’s the last day of my family death leave. Bedrosian granted my leave under duress. I’ll be fired if I don’t return to work.”
Carlos said, “We need to talk strategy before you make any plans to go back to work. And we need to discuss what we’re going to do in response to these attacks on your friends. These actions can’t go unanswered. The enemy must not think that they can act with impunity.”
“What do you propose?”
Carlos answered, “It’s what you propose that must be examined.”
“I need more information. I don’t even know who all my enemies are yet.”
