Quicksand

by Carolyn Baugh

  Lenora Baker interrupted him, her tone even. “It wasn’t courage, Agent Wansbrough. It was pain.”

  John and Nora shared a look. John continued, “Mrs. Baker, a very powerful link in the East Coast drug trade has been brought in. Dewayne has links to drug trafficking organizations all over the Delaware Valley and into New York. The Junior Black Mafia have been distributing throughout our area—Camden and south Jersey, and out in the suburbs. He’s part of something very dangerous.”

  “Dewayne … and my boy, too, right? My boy, Kevin?” The grief was evident in Mrs. Baker’s voice. “You’ll be going after him next, right?”

  Rashid spoke, and Nora noticed again how measured and calm his voice sounded. He lay his hand on her shoulder as if to steady her. “My mother felt that no more kids should die for the cycle of violence my brother and his gangbangers have perpetrated. That’s why she is willing to testify against him and against … his rival.” He looked as though his every word was a careful choice, a massive effort at self-control.

  Nora answered, “And we are so grateful for her willingness. But we are also extremely concerned about her safety. This is why we want to enter her into protective custody until the trial is over.”

  Mrs. Baker shook her head, mirrored by Rashid. “No,” she said.

  “No?” Nora asked, surprised at the woman’s clarity.

  Rashid leaned forward as though translating, then said gently, “My mother refuses your offer of protection.”

  Nora’s mouth felt dry. “But why? I’m sure you know that Dewayne’s crew all want vengeance for their leader, and the A&As think you sold them out.”

  Wansbrough added, “We believe that there is a possibility your own son could … exert pressure to keep you from testifying.”

  Mrs. Baker shook her head, then coughed lightly again. “Kevin? No. You don’t know my son.”

  Rashid said, “My brother fears God, Agent Wansbrough. Maybe not in all things, but when it comes to our mother…”

  Nora shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I have to disagree. Kevin hasn’t ‘feared God’ enough to keep from dumping cocaine and methamphetamines on the streets of Philly. Whether or not he was the shooter, it was his car that was used in the drive-by that started all this.”

  Wansbrough was nodding. “My partner is right. Mrs. Baker, I don’t believe that we can guarantee your safety unless we can take you out of your daily routine, and get you somewhere that neither gang knows exists.”

  Lenora Baker inhaled deeply. “I will not back down, and I will not run from these young fools.” She tapped the coffee table in front of her, accentuating every few words as she spoke. “I have lost much more than I ever had to give, you understand? There is nothing left. What’s the worst they can do? Put a bullet in me? So be it. I’ll just be with my baby sooner.”

  Nora took in the deep creases around Mrs. Baker’s mocha-colored eyes, and the bright streaks of silver that adorned her precisely curled hair. This woman had seen a lot in her time, too much. She was not scared. “Mrs. Baker—” she began, the agitation visible on her face.

  The woman interrupted her. “Child, I know you want to protect me. Thank you. I don’t take that lightly.”

  Rashid addressed both agents, “We know that you are responsible for tracking down the man who raped and murdered my—” his voice slowed, then resumed, wracked with emotion. “So it is we who are grateful. But my mother is getting on in years, and she does not want to leave her home. Surely you can’t blame her for this.” He stifled a cough, then laid his hand again on his mother’s back, very gently, very tenderly. “I will take good care of her,” he added, and his mother smiled wearily, resting her head against his arm.

  Nora watched, as John nodded gravely. “Mrs. Baker, if you change your mind at any time, please know that we will do everything in our power to keep you and the rest of your family safe. All you have to do is call.”

  “Yes, Agent Wansbrough. I have your card.” Mrs. Baker rose. “Please notify me when I’m to appear in court,” she said, turning to go. “And please—when you find my Kevin, be gentle with him. He must be very scared by now.”

  Rashid walked them to the door. As the two agents descended to the front porch, Rashid stood and surveyed the neighborhood. Angry voices, one a woman’s near-hysterical shriek, cut through the cool afternoon air. The sound of shattering glass made both agents reach automatically for their weapons. Rashid said, in his slow, calm voice, “This neighborhood … Look, you need to know that my brother is a good man. But he never had a chance here, nobody does.”

  John Wansbrough seemed about to respond, but he let Rashid talk.

  “Kevin got sucked into this thing because he needed to help take care of Mama when I was gone. I know he never meant to hurt anybody.”

  John said, “Your brother will be well-treated, Rashid. Just make sure to contact us if he calls you. And advise him to turn himself in. It will be much, much better for him.”

  Rashid shook John’s hand, flicked his eyes over Nora and gave a slight nod before returning to his home.

  Wansbrough looked at Nora as they walked to the Suburban. “What do we have on the brother?”

  She shook her head, opening the file. “Nothing. I’m guessing Rashid is a name he adopted after converting to Islam. He looks a lot older … Maybe he’s a half brother or something. Do you think ‘gone’ means he was in prison?”

  “I assume nothing. Check him out for us, Nora. See what his involvement is, if any, in the A&As.”

  She jotted this down on the file as she slid into the passenger seat.

  “Why wouldn’t he shake your hand?”

  Nora shrugged. “Some pious Muslims think touching a woman disrupts your state of ritual purity—you would have to perform ablutions with water before you can pray again. Some won’t touch any woman not related to them.”

  John raised his eyebrows. “Does it insult you?”

  She hadn’t considered it before. “To think I could wreck someone’s state of purity with my touch?”

  He nodded.

  “Nah. Makes me feel kinda brawny,” she answered.

  “That’s my girl.”

  * * *

  Calder straightened when she walked into their office.

  “How’d it go?” he asked.

  Nora shook her head. “No go. She refused our protection.”

  “Imagine wanting to stay home instead of holing up at the Comfort Inn in Norristown.”

  “You’ve seen the neighborhood. The Comfort Inn is paradise.” She nodded at the sheaf of papers on his desk. “How did it go at Fulton’s?”

  “Eric is still there with some techs. No knife. No knife in the Beemer. No flash drive anywhere. Had to ask Libby again to try to find traces of the information on the hard drive itself.”

  Libby’s voice floated over the vinyl wall. “Didn’t ask very nicely…”

  “Thank you, Libby! You are the best computer geek ever!” Ben called out.

  “Yes! Yes I am!” she called back.

  He continued, “I came back to finish these task force reports for the D.E.A about yesterday’s haul—I’m supposed to file within thirty-six hours, or they get irritable.”

  “Didn’t you just submit your report to the medical examiner about Lisa Halston? Why do you have to write all the reports? Where are the sheriff’s office guys, anyway? They should have to do something around here.”

  Calder shrugged. “You know it’s dicey, Nora, since the FBI is investigating the sheriff’s office because of that tax thing—so they are making themselves scarce around the office here.”

  She actually hadn’t known, but she nodded as though hearing old news.

  Calder seemed unconcerned, continuing, “Anyway, now that we have most of the real names of the gang members from Mrs. Baker, Eric is actually making a statistical model that he says will allow us to find most of the A&As. He’s basing it on prior arrests and known activity, a certain radius from their homes, and I don’t kn
ow, coordinates for the mothership or something.”

  Nora was impressed. “A statistical model?”

  “You heard it here first. But Nora, we think there’s an all-out gang war brewing.”

  “How so?” she asked.

  “A Mike Cook from Philly PD just called about a lower-level JBM kid who had been jumped by a group of A&As late last night. Knife wound. He’ll live. But his statement was they were screaming at him about Kylie Baker.”

  “Mike’s a good cop—a good guy,” Nora said. “This could get out of hand really fast.” She frowned, thinking. “What does it even mean, the name ‘A&As’?”

  Ben leaned forward and said in a low whisper, “I happen to have that information. If I tell you, will you drink coffee with me?”

  She flared her nostrils slightly and laid Mrs. Baker’s file on her desk. “Nope.”

  He frowned. “Why not?” he demanded.

  “I hate coffee.”

  “Nobody hates coffee. Six-year-olds drink frappuccinos.”

  “Yah, well, I’m just that uncool.” She sank into her roller chair.

  “What do you drink?”

  She opened her laptop and powered it on. “Calder, I don’t think—”

  Wansbrough appeared behind her, answering for her as he entered: “Mint tea. One package of Splenda. Preferably fresh mint leaves added to black tea, but dried leaves will do. She’ll settle for packaged mint tea, but she’ll have to complain the entire time she’s drinking it.”

  Nora’s face flushed as she turned to stare at her partner. “What about protecting me from guys with bad intentions?”

  Wansbrough smiled. “After yesterday’s performance, I’ve decided Ben’s intentions are honorable.” He explained to Calder, “When they bumped her up to work with us, and Nora’s dad first started giving me food, I made him a promise to look out for her…”

  Ben shuddered. “Why does this man scare me when I’ve never met him?”

  Nora was glaring at John. “Why don’t you tell him my sign, too?”

  Ben grinned. “Cancer. I looked it up. So. Mint tea?”

  “I’ve got some work to do,” she said, focusing on the computer screen.

  Ben circled her desk to stand over her. “Tea’s good. Tea’s just fine. We can talk about gang history. The whole time. It will be a working tea.”

  Libby’s voice ripped through the cubicle divider. “Just drink some tea with the man and put us out of our misery!”

  All three laughed despite themselves. “There are way too many people working Saturdays lately.” Nora said. She sighed, shook her head at both men, then spoke in hushed tones. “You realize that you’re taking advantage of me by withholding information I actually need. I think I have my harassment case after all.”

  Calder rose and offered her his arm as though to escort her out of their cubicle and into the bustling hall. “Now, now, it would be very shabby to sue a man who saved your life. Come on, then. I know this out-of-the-way granola-y coffee shop…”

  She refused his arm, then pointed toward the floors below. “Cafeteria.”

  “There is no way they have mint tea in the cafeteria!” he protested.

  She smiled, opening her bottom drawer. “I keep a stash for emergencies.”

  * * *

  It was Saturday afternoon, and the cafeteria was nearly deserted. Calder watched as Nora placed a Lipton tea bag and then a few spoonsful of dried mint into the bottom of the paper cup. She opened the spigot on the canister of hot water, filled her cup, then poured a small yellow package of Splenda into the mix. She stirred carefully, sealed the cup with the plastic lid, replaced the baggie full of mint leaves in her drawstring backpack, and walked to the cash register.

  Ben Calder held his cup of black coffee rather self-righteously.

  She caught the look in his eye. “You think I’m high maintenance?”

  “You think you’re not?” He didn’t wait for a response. The gray-haired woman at the cash register opened her palm to accept his payment. “I’ll get both of these,” he said.

  “Will not,” objected Nora, waving a dollar at the woman.

  The woman, whose name tag declared that she was “Lois,” glared at both of them. “Work it out, kids.”

  “Ben. Come on. We agreed.”

  “Nora. It’s called being polite. Besides, you brought your own weeds. Let me buy you a tea bag.”

  Nora appealed to Lois, who was still glaring, unmoved. “Fine,” she said at last, appending a muttered “Thank you.”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t upset the cosmic order,” Ben whispered.

  Lois took Ben’s money, still scowling.

  Nora followed him to a table by the window. “Don’t you diss my mint tea again, though,” she said, sinking into her seat.

  “What’s the story with the mint tea?” he asked.

  Nora toyed with the string that dangled over the side of the cup. “My mom always drank mint tea.”

  Ben regarded her, his gaze softening. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks,” Nora said simply.

  “Is her passing part of why your dad is so protective of you?”

  Nora smiled wistfully. “I … yah, I guess it is.” She met his eyes and found them to be greener than she’d realized. She was lost in them for a moment, before she said, “Okay, you were gonna tell me about the A&As.”

  Ben sighed. “Yes, yes I was. The A&As used to be called African Annihilation.”

  “That’s a mouthful for anyone.”

  “Yes. Started as a black power group, actually, in the late sixties. Man named Hugo Jack. They called him Black Jack. Lot of antipolice activity, taking out a few officers as revenge for police brutality in Kingsessing.”

  “They killed officers?”

  “Black Jack got the death penalty for it. But the group lived on. Got into drugs. Very hierarchical organization, so succession lines were always clear, which kept them together.” Ben stopped to take a long sip of his coffee. “The Junior Black Mafia were Jamaican-based—really had nothing to do with the Philadelphia Black Mafia, despite the similar names. They are way more recent, born from the crack cocaine boom.”

  “And the rivalry?”

  Ben shrugged. “Turf. Plain and simple. Through some divine irony they both fight over the worst patch of it we have—Kingsessing. The A&As favored heroin. They originally got some product from New York just like the JBM did, and even some stuff from Pittsburgh of all places. But now it seems Mexico is their primary source. A cartel known as Los Zetas. Very scary guys. The JBM and Dewayne have been left behind in this respect. It’s been good for the A&As, but I know that some of their guys have disappeared. Permanently.”

  Nora blew across the surface of her tea, then observed, “Kevin Baker is young. He and Dewayne both are. How did they get so much power?”

  “Murder. They are both really good at that.”

  Nora nodded, considering this.

  Ben said wryly, “It’s a far cry from—what was your first case again? Lebanese Ponzi schemes?”

  She laughed out loud. “Not a Ponzi scheme. This idiot—well, the simplicity of it wasn’t really idiotic, I guess. He would pay new immigrants, mainly Mexicans actually, to swipe merchandise from Walmarts and Targets, then he’d resell it to the wholesalers.”

  “You got to put your special skills to work?”

  “Yeah. He kept all his records in Arabic, which he thought would keep him off the grid somehow.”

  “Little did he know…” Ben grinned, then tilted his head. “You speak all the different dialects?”

  “Of Arabic?” She shrugged. “No, but I can understand. Thing about growing up here is the mosque communities are really diverse. Kids’ll try to speak English together, but your four hundred aunties and uncles will speak to you in Iraqi Arabic, Yemeni Arabic, Palestinian Arabic. So, yeah, I knew enough Lebanese dialect to understand him, and I can read and write it just fine.”

  “I heard you chased him down.”


  “Well, most Arab guys smoke. It wasn’t that hard.”

  “I heard he was on a motorcycle.”

  Nora looked away. “Well. That part was hard.”

  She ignored the look Ben gave her and glanced at her watch. “Look, I should go shoot some more before I head home…”

  Ben leaned in, “Come on, Nora. Talk to me a little. I want to know how you got here. John said you had a shot at the Olympics. He said your team at Temple University crushed the competition at the Penn Relays. What made you join the police force? How did you get tapped for the task force?”

  Nora leaned back in her chair and folded her arms. “Why is any of that important?”

  “Come on. We work together, right, so it helps to know each other better. You never know when you’ll be held hostage and I’ll need to know the deep dark details of your life in order to think like you think and help you outwit your captors.”

  She stared at him, then took a long sip of tea. “You watch too many movies.”

  “I’m single. We do that.”

  Nora hesitated, feeling like she couldn’t catch a deep enough breath. Then she leaned in. “Okay, but you can’t tell Burton. He’s such a snob.”

  “Yes, yes he is,” Ben agreed. “I promise.”

  “Well, I really wanted to join the FBI, but there were two reasons why I couldn’t even try.”

  Ben cocked his head, listening closely.

  “One, the stay at Quantico. My dad shot that down straight out. I had to commute to college, no dorm, so he was never gonna agree to going away on my own. Two, they assign you somewhere besides your hometown. And I needed to be here for now. For Ahmad—and for my dad too. He’s sort of a bear, but he needs me.”

  Ben opened his mouth to say something when John Wansbrough burst through the cafeteria doors. He crossed rapidly to their table.

  “Believe me, I hate to break up this scene. But we’ve got another corpse.”

  * * *

  Even through the fog in her mind, she could see the body with perfect clarity. Cold, gray light poured across the alley, falling on exposed skin, on an untamed mass of hair, on big ugly gashes mottling face and body.