Trap House

by Sa'id Salaam

  “911, what’s your emergency?” the operator said.

  In a frantic voice, Queen replied, “An officer has been shot, send help right away!” She then hung up the phone. By then, they had traced the call and should be on their way.

  King retreated also to the kitchen as Agent Fellows and Benny made their way down the stairs. They noticed the officer that once held the shotgun was part of the floor.

  “King, come out!” Agent Fellows yelled.

  “Fuck you. You thought you could come in here and take King out like that. If anybody come in this kitchen, they gonna end up like your friend on the floor,” King stated before he started laughing.

  As Agent Fellows thought about his next move, the sirens in the distance helped him out. “Benny, get the fuck out of here and let me handle this,” Agent Fellows said in a nervous voice. Benny wasted no time getting gone.

  When the police pulled up, Agent Fellows met them on the porch. “King is in the kitchen, he is armed and we got one officer down in the living room,” stated Agent Fellows.

  “Tyler Scott, put the weapon down and come out of the kitchen,” the unit officer said as his men took their positions in the living room. As they noticed the young agent on the floor dead, one officer had to do his best not to throw up.

  “I’m gonna give up, my lawyer’s on the way. I’m throwing my gun out,” King said as he slid the firearm across the floor. He then walked out with his hands up, and the officers took him into custody.

  Queen and the twins watched as they took the King away from them in cuffs. The twins were only six years old and stood there angry as little tears ran down their faces. Who would think ten years later they would be standing in the same spot.

  “Come on, Qwon, let’s get what we are here for and get the fuck out of here,” Twon said.

  “I’m witcha, Bro,” Qwon replied.

  Their bedroom looked the same, just dusty. They wasted no time turning their focus on Michael Jordan painted on the wall. They remembered they couldn’t go in their room for a week until it was done. Now, they stood face to face to it, wondering what was behind it. As they put their hand on the wall, they noticed it felt different than the rest of the wall. It was made from dry wall.

  “Let me see the crowbar, Twon,” Qwon said. Within seconds, he slammed it into the wall and to their surprise, a hole emerged.

  * * * * *

  “Tyler Scott, Tyler Scott, you got a visit,” the fat officer yelled. As they made their way down the hallway, King already knew who his visitor was and couldn’t hide the grin on his face. As the private visiting room door buzzed open, there sat Agent Fellows.

  “I don’t remember seeing you on my visiting list,” King said as he took a seat at the table.

  “I see you haven’t lost your sense of humor in ten years in this shit hole,” Agent Fellows replied, cracking a smile.

  “What the fuck do you want?” King said as he sat back in his chair.

  “I’ll tell you what the fuck I want. I want you to know that I will personally be at your appeal hearing this week to make sure you never leave this place. It just so happens that the judge is a very close friend of mine, and you know how friends stick together, don’t you, King? You don’t since the only friend you had took your place and now works for me. All you had to do was play by my rules and you could’ve had everything, but you are too smart for your own good.” King never said anything; he just sat there as if the agent wasn’t even talking to him. The whole time, he knew his plan was underway, and Agent Mike Fellows or any crooked ass judge couldn’t stop it.

  King sat forward in his seat and said in a nice voice, “I enjoyed your visit, Agent Fellows, but it’s time for me to go. But, don’t worry, we will have a chance to visit again real soon.” King pushed his chair away from the table, and then stood up and made his way to the door.

  “Guard!” King yelled as the fat, white man reappeared, opening the door and letting him out. Agent Fellows sat there for a few minutes alone, thinking back to when King made him so much money he didn’t know what to do with it all. Benny keeps my pockets fat, but he sure ain’t no King. King is too fucking smart and powerful, which is why I can’t never let him get out of here alive.

  * * * * *

  As the hole emerged bigger with each strike of the crowbar, light begin to shine on what was behind the wall, revealing what they could start to make out to be some kind of safe. Qwon dropped the crowbar and they began pulling the drywall away with their hands until they stood looking at the safe that had been hidden in the walls for over ten years.

  “Qwon, where is the key?” Twon could barely get the words out of his mouth before Qwon had stuck the key in the lock and turned it. Twon turned the handle almost simultaneously, pulling the safe door open. In the safe was a big black bag.

  Qwon grabbed it and pulled it out. “Damn, this bag is heavy as hell,” Qwon said in a somewhat strained voice as he dropped it to the floor in front of him. Twon bent down and opened the zipper. As he pulled it back, they couldn’t help but see the money that seemed to jump out of the bag at them.

  “Shit, Twon, look at all the money,” Qwon said as his eyes got as big as silver dollars.

  Twon reached down to make sure it was real. They wasted no time pulling out stack by stack, the money which was neatly wrapped with money bonds which told them how much each stack was. When the money was on the floor, they had counted five hundred thousand dollars.

  “Qwon, we rich.” Twon said, trying to calm down.

  “Hell yeah. I’m gonna buy Jordan’s for the rest of my life. Shit, what else is in the bag?”

  Twon reached in, and pulled out two long black cases and an envelope.

  “That’s it,” Twon said as he handed the cases to his brother. Qwon noticed that each case was labeled with their names.

  “Huh, this one is yours, Twon,” Qwon said as they opened the cases together.

  They couldn’t believe what they saw. The looked at each other, then looked backed down at what seemed to be a treasure. Each case contained two twin gold plated Desert Eagles, and engraved in them were their names, Prince Twon and Prince Qwon. Living in the projects, they had seen their share of guns, but none like those.

  “Twon, see what’s in the envelope,” Qwon said as he stood up, holding both guns and aiming at the wall. Twon ripped the envelope open as he grabbed the papers out of it. The key their father told them about fell out onto the floor. Twon opened the papers. The first one had a bunch of words and numbers on it. It looked like some kind of code or something. Twon went to the next paper.

  “Twon, what was that?” Qwon said, putting the guns back in their cases.

  “I don’t know, it looks like some kind of code or something.”

  As Twon flipped to the next page, it had an address at the top: 1622 Harmony Lane, and under it read:

  If you boys are reading this, then I’m either dead or in jail. Whatever the situation, you have no time to waste. The paper you have with the crazy writing on it you must protect it with your lives. I know you don’t understand what’s going on right now, but you soon will. Hurry and go to the address. Make sure you’re not followed. The money is for y’all, but that’s nothing compared to what your future will bring y’all…King.

  Qwon started packing the money up as Twon flipped to the last paper in his hand

  “It’s a birth certificate,” Twon said, looking confused.

  “A what?”

  “You heard me, a birth certificate, but it ain’t neither one of ours. It says Latisha Scott, born January 10th, 1975 to Debra and Tyler Scott.”

  “What the fuck is going on? Momma ain’t never saying nothing about no sister,” Qwon said.

  “Hell naw, she must have died at birth,” Qwon said, trying to make up a logical excuse. “Fuck it, Twon, let’s get the fuck out of here,” Qwon said, picking up the bag and turning toward the door, and that’s when they heard it—the back door open and close.

  “Twon, Qwo
n, we know you’re in here,” a voice yelled from downstairs. “We don’t want to hurt you, we just wanna talk. We’re federal agents,” Agent Phillips said as he waived Agent Reynolds to go in the living room as he covered him.

  “Qwon, what are we gonna do now?” Twon said in a whisper.

  “I got a plan,” he replied as he sat the bag back down and started to unzip it.

  “Reynolds, you hear that? I think they’re upstairs, let’s go!” Phillips said, pointing to the stairs. Before they could take a step, the thunderous sound of Qwon’s Desert Eagle filled the house. The agents dove back in the kitchen as bullets whizzed past them, slamming into the wall and barely missing their target.

  “Where you going, mu’fuckas!” Qwon yelled as he let off two more rounds.

  “Put the gun down before somebody gets hurt!” Agent Phillips yelled back, now covered where the bullets couldn’t reach him.

  “What y’all here for?” asked Qwon.

  “We just wanna talk, but you’re gonna have to put the gun down,” the agent said.

  “Fuck y’all, I can hear you from there. Now, talk,” said Qwon. Phillips was left no choice but to start talking.

  “We’re not here to hurt y’all. We believe you got something we’re looking for and if you just give it to us, we’ll leave and y’all can go about y’all business.” The agent got no response.

  “Enough playing games, Phillips, let’s take these little bastards. Nobody will miss them,” said Reynolds. Phillips grinned to his partner, enjoying the thought of killing the twins.

  “Cover me,” Phillips said as he started making his way back into the living room with extreme caution.

  They were making their way to the stairs again. They were through talking and death was all they could think about as they made their way to the top of the stairs. The bathroom door was open directly in front of them to their right. A bedroom door was open as well, but to their left was the twin’s room with the door shut. They secured the rooms behind them before approaching the closed door. The agents took no more chances. They aimed at the door and opened fire with the department issued .40 cals. In a matter of seconds, the door was ate up with gaping holes the size of baseballs. The door barely crept open as the agents reloaded, hoping the silence meant they had hit their targets. Agent Reynolds, with his gun out in front of him, stood with his back against the wall by the entrance to the room, hoping his next step wouldn’t be his last. Phillips was crouched down, moving slowly into the room as he made his way. His eyes got as big as the holes in the door, and Reynolds looked down, seeing the expression on his partner’s face. That’s when he heard the sound that would change everything for them.

  January 7, 2002

  With only two days until court, King laid in his cell thinking about the last ten years of his life. In ten years, he got one visit and that was from his beloved Queen. That was when he first got there. After that visit, Queen never came back at his request. She knew why, because there was too much at stake and she didn’t want to jeopardize the plan. Life in jail wasn’t hard for the King. He had privileges that only money could buy—women, drugs, liquor, you name it, and he got it. His cell wasn’t with the rest of the inmates; it was by itself on the wing at the prison no longer used. His cell was two cells combined. He had carpeted floors, big screen TV, and, of course, his king sized bed. The only thing King couldn’t buy was his freedom. He had to turn his back on his family in order to protect them. The night he killed that officer, he knew what they were looking for and he also knew that once they didn’t find it, they would surely kill him and his family with no hesitation. For the secret King had, you could end up dead or in jail. So, instead of waiting on them to decide, he decided jail. With him in jail, his secret was safe. Nobody knew where it was but him and Queen. Even though her addition got the best of her, she would rather die than betray her family. The thoughts of the Queen always touched a spot in his heart that nobody but her knew existed in him. Those brown eyes, those pretty brown eyes. Soon, love, they will all pay, the King thought as he closed his eyes and went to sleep, knowing the plan was underway.

  As Agent Reynolds stood above his partner gripping his .40 cal as tightly as he could, the next noise was undeniable. It was one that let him know that they had made a terrible error in judgment. Agent Phillips seemed to have frozen in his tracks, knowing it was too late. Skiiiiiiirt. It was a sound they had heard so many times before. It was the sound of their Crown Vic peeling out of the driveway. Cops usually always left their car running, especially when it was as cold as it was outside. That time it cost them big.

  “Those fuckin’ niggers done climbed out of the window and stole our fuckin’ car!” Phillips shouted to his partner as he ran to the open window that was previously boarded up. As he looked out the window, he saw exactly how they got from the second floor to the ground. The garage was right under their window, and that was an easy jump for two young boys of their age running for their lives.

  “Fuck, Phillips, the safe is empty. What the fuck are we gonna tell Fellows? He’s gonna have our ass for this.”

  “I don’t know, but we gotta get to a phone fast,” Phillips said, realizing their phones were in the car. They holstered their weapons and headed for the stairs looking disgusted, knowing they would surely kill the twins with great pleasure once they caught them. As they made their way down the stairs and across the living room, Phillips couldn’t help but think to himself, Didn’t we leave the door open? but he brushed it off as his cop instinct was working overtime. Too bad it was working on the wrong thing, because they never heard the hallway closet open as they passed it.

  “Y’all just wanted to talk, huh? Well, I hate to be rude and not talk back,” Twon said as he stood behind the agents with both guns aimed at their targets.

  The agents would have never guessed that one of the boys had doubled back and waited on them as they searched upstairs trying to kill the twins. The agents never got the chance to turn around before Twon let off eight shots of thunder, four from each gun, and all the bullets hit their targets. Reynolds caught the worst of the gunfire. One shot completely smashed in the back of his head, and three more buried in his back. He was dead before he hit the ground. Phillips took two slugs high in his back, with the force from the impact completely spinning him around until he found himself sitting on his ass in the middle of the kitchen.

  “You fucking nigger, you shot me!” Phillips said in a grimacing voice as he felt his body. Twon walked closer to the fallen agent, avoiding his partner’s brains that were leaking all over the floor, until he was standing over Phillips looking down at him.

  “You’re going to jail for life, you little shit, just like your fath…” Phillips never got the chance to finish his sentence before the whole right side of his face seemed to disappear from the eight rounds Twon squeezed off into Phillip’s face.

  “Fuck you, pussy,” was all Twon said as he put up his smoking guns and made his way out of the back door to his brother waiting in the agents’ car.

  “Hurry up and close the door, it’s cold outside mu’fucka,” Qwon said as he pulled away from the curb.

  “Fuck you, you could be as cold as them two fuckas in the house,” Town replied. They both started laughing as they headed for their next destination.

  “The gas attendant said to keep straight for five to ten miles out of the city limits and to play close attention because the street signs are hard to spot. He also said he didn’t understand why anybody would want to go out there—it’s nothing but a bunch of abandoned warehouses,” Qwon said as he sped off down the road in search of Harmony Lane.

  After damn near twenty minutes, Twon finally spotted it.

  “That’s it, Qwon, right there,” Twon said as he pointed toward a narrow road that looked like it led to nowhere.

  After five minutes on the dirt road, they could see in the distance the warehouse the gas station attendant was talking about. As they approached, they looked nervously at the three
buildings that stood in the middle of nowhere. The Crown Vic came to an abrupt stop in front of the biggest of the three buildings.

  “1-6-22, right?” Qwon asked as he squinted to see the numbers on the building.

  “Yeah, that’s it, but you don’t have to stop the car like you crazy. If you would have made me hit my head, I would have fucked you up,” Twon said.

  “Whatever, get your ass out of the car and let’s check this place out,” Qwon replied as he got out of the car.

  “This shit look crazy,” Qwon said as he looked around.

  “Man, bring your sorry ass on,” Twon replied as he turned and headed toward the building.

  As they reached the door, they were unable to look through the windows. They seemed to be covered with paint. As they opened the door and stepped inside, the only lighting that came in through the skylight offered little help as the sun was just about to go down. They could barely make out the maze of pallets damn near stacked to the ceiling.

  “We gotta find some light, I can barely see shit,” Twon said.

  “I hope this old ass place got some light. If not, what we gonna do then?”

  “I don’t know, we’ll worry about that later. We wasting time now because the sun is going completely down in a few minutes. Let’s split up and get to looking,” Twon answered.

  “Yeah, you’re right, but be careful. I gotta funny feeling about this place,” said Qwon.

  “Now who’s scared, wit’ your soft ass.”

  “Fuck you, Twon, just be careful, a’ight?”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Twon replied as he made his way toward the left side of the warehouse, leaving Qwon no choice but to take the right.

  Twon made his way through the maze, working cautiously. He couldn’t help but worry if his brother was okay. He was trying to stay focused on the task at hand when he heard a noise that made him stop and listen.

  “Qwon, is that you?” Twon said, but there was no response.

  Twon wasted no time pulling one of his guns from his waistline as he continued to the end of the row. There, to his left, was a stairway and on that wall next to the bottom of the stairs looked to be a power box. All he could think was, Please, let this shit work. As he approached the box, the lever was down in the off position, so Twon grabbed the rusty handle and pushed it up, and within seconds the once dark warehouse was full of light. Twon’s relief only lasted for a second as he felt the cold feeling of steel pressed against the back of his head and heard a voice that was even colder.