The System - A Detroit Story -

by John Silver

  "Sanja, no need to cry," said Rada, smiling at Sami. "Look, look, Uncle Sami brought you a gift." Sanja reached out for the brightly wrapped package but Rada snatched it away. "You must wait," she said.

  Sami looked straight at Elena.

  "You're more beautiful every time I see you," he said.

  Elena looked away and put her arms around Sanja.

  "Come," said Rada. "Let's go inside."

  * *

  Milos sat in his worn red velour chair in front of the stone fireplace. Elena and Sanja sat on a couch and Sami sat with Rada on a floral love seat. Sami swirled raki in the small glass he held. The gifts sat at his feet.

  "You still make the best," said Sami, raising the glass and sipping the white grape liquid, clear as moonshine.

  "This batch turned out okay, but maybe not the best," said Milos. He doubled over, held his hand up and coughed like something was caught in his throat. After a moment Milos sat upright.

  Sami sat back and looked around the damp, dark paneled room. Faded floral wallpaper, a tall wooden ledge ringing the room, festooned with plates, teacups, trinkets and black and white photographs of extended family members, some dead from the war and ancient blood feuds.

  Sanja kept her eyes on the presents.

  "Little Sanja," said Sami. "You would like to open your gift, no?"

  Sanja smiled and nodded her head. Sami picked up Sanja's gift and handed it to her. "Here you go."

  Sanja grabbed the gift and tore open the wrapping paper. Before Elena could say anything Rada said

  "Sanja, what do you say to Uncle Sami?"

  "Thank you," said Sanja, focusing on the wrapping paper.

  Rada looked at Sami. "She gets so little."

  Elena felt her temperature rise.

  After ripping through the paper Sanja opened a thin white cardboard box revealing a shiny new blond doll.

  "A doll," squealed Sanja. She pulled the doll from the box and hugged it.

  Elena felt a rush of disappointment, hoping Sanja's instant infatuation with the doll wouldn't displace her love for Trina.

  "What a beautiful dolly," said Rada.

  "She could be Trina's sister," said Elena.

  "Only prettier," said Rada.

  Sami handed a present to Rada. She untied the bow and deftly unwrapped the colorful paper, revealing an expensive woolen cable sweater.

  "For the winter," said Sami.

  He handed a gift in the shape of a large coffee can to Milos. Milos thanked him and opened it.

  "My favorite," said Milos, holding a can of specialty pipe tobacco.

  Elena blinked. This was the very last thing that her father needed. Sami knew of Milos's health problems. His coughing.

  "Now for you, Elena," said Sami. He picked up the last small package and handed it to her.

  "Thank you," said Elena. She unwrapped the paper, opened a small box and took out a small jade necklace and two jade earrings.

  "Oh, how beautiful," said Rada.

  "Thank you very much," said Elena. They were very nice, but what would she do with them? Hang laundry in them? She held the earrings to her ears and smiled. Sami stared at her, wondering how Elena would look wearing the earrings and necklace, and nothing else.

  "So how is life for you, Elena?" said Sami.

  "I have no complaints."

  "How are you earning your money?"

  Rada put her hands on Sami's shoulder, leaning into him. "All that is available is laundry," she said. "And that is scarce."

  Sami looked straight at Elena. "And what of little Sanja?" he said. "You could do much better for her."

  "Anything would be an improvement," said Rada.

  "Rada, please," said Elena, her face flushed. Rada glared at her with her black, pellet-like eyes. She hated it when Elena called her by her first name. She wanted Elena to call her Mother, or Nana, or any form of maternal acknowledgement. Elena settled that when she was fifteen years old, after her real mother's death.

  Sami ignored Rada's comment. "I have an opportunity for you," he said to Elena.

  "How exciting," said Rada.

  Elena felt another flash of resentment.

  "And what would that be?" said Elena.

  Sami finished the raki, leaned forward and said, "One of my associates owns a very successful restaurant. In Tirana. The Blue Goose. Perhaps you have heard of it?" Elena shook her head no.

  "And?" said Rada.

  I have a job for you as a server," said Sami. "You could make a lot more money. More in a month there than you would make in a year here." Sami sat back in his seat and lit a small cigar. "I had to pull many strings."

  Elena pondered the novelty of having money.

  "When would this happen?" she said.

  "The job is waiting for you, right now," said Sami. "You can come back with me tonight."

  "Tonight? That's impossible," said Elena, stunned.

  "Yes, tonight," said Sami.

  "What about Sanja?" said Elena.

  "Sanja will stay here with us," said Rada.

  Elena looked around the room, speechless. She felt the impulse to rush and take Sanja from here as far and fast as she could. Milos stood and softly said, "It's a good opportunity for you. You can bring in money, for your future. And Sanja's."

  Elena stared dumbfounded at Milos. "You knew about this?" she said.

  "How can we go on like this," Rada screeched. "Papa and I will not last forever. What is your future here?

  Laundry the rest of your life? We can barely support ourselves, let alone you and Sanja."

  Sami intensified. "You will make good money to send home. For Sanja. To build a life for yourself."

  Elena stood ambushed and defeated. Where would she go if she did grab Sanja and run? In the woods?

  Out in the fields, facing the land mines that were everywhere, left over from the war?

  "I will have to think," she said.

  "It is decided," said Rada.

  Elena sprang to her feet. "You decide my life?"

  Milos raised his hand and said, "Elena, I hate it as much as you but it is the only way."

  "And what are your prospects here?" said Rada. "Who will have you?"

  Elena rushed from the room.

  Chapter 3

  Chop Shop

  Chris was the last one to pull into the big yard. A small white and red sign on the barbed wire chain link fence read ACE Salvage. If there was a market for bootleg barbed wire, Chris thought, Detroit was a gold mine. Zippy manned the gate and Chris drove through with the lights off and stopped. Zippy closed the sliding gate, locked it with a padlock then got in the front seat of the black Escalade alongside Chris.

  "Nice ride, man," he said. "Bling machine."

  "Not bad," said Chris. "I'm not much of a bling guy."

  "No bling, no personality, no pussy," said Zippy. "You got to get you some. All three."

  They drove past derelict car bodies, some totaled, looking almost new in the rear but with entire front ends torn apart or missing. The windshields had opaque spider web cracks where the unlucky passengers slammed their heads. Chris spotted two cars that had been wrapped around trees. Good for some parts, but there were always scraps of hair, skin, blood and bone fragments in the interiors. Always.

  They pulled in front of the gray corrugated steel building and before hopping out Zippy said, "Know what you need? Big booty Hispanic ho. Do you like nobody else. I'll hook you up."

  Zippy laughed and walked to the large metal door and pressed the green UP button on the side. The chain drive contactor snapped and the door rumbled upward. As soon as it cleared the roof of the Escalade Chris pulled in.

  * *

  Chris got tight with Zippy back in Juvie, winding up there via an incident skipping school with one of his friends. Chris was done with school and wanted to drop out, but Michigan law required parental permission and no one knew where his father was.

  Chris was at his buddy's house, smoking weed and watching porn on VHS.
His buddy's recently divorced mother went away with a new guy for the weekend. Getting the munchies from the weed, they took his mother's big Chrysler Imperial and drove to the corner party store. Chris rode shotgun. His buddy was wasted and instead of hitting the brakes, he stomped on the accelerator and drove through the party store's front window. Panicked, Chris grabbed the steering wheel and rammed into a man at the counter buying lottery tickets, nearly killing him. They were busted and Chris was sentenced to three years in the Wayne County Juvenile Detention Facility, on Monroe Street near Greektown.

  Zippy was busted for the third time when he was fourteen years old for breaking into cars and stealing in-dash stereos. He worked for his brother Jesus, who was boosting cars Grand Theft Auto style for years. Did time for it once. The cops tried to intimidate Zippy into giving up Jesus, but Zippy kept his mouth shut and was given five years.

  Chris and Zippy became pals in auto shop class. Chris liked Zippy's quick wit and sense of humor. Chris was smart and cool headed and Zippy discovered Chris was naturally good with cars. They worked on every old beater that showed up in class. A lot of car knowledge absorbed by Zippy via Jesus rubbed off on Chris. After two years they could fix, or hack into, anything on wheels. That's what they considered themselves- hackers. Just like the computer geeks, only Chris and Zippy did it with iron, glass, wires, rubber and sheet metal.

  * *

  The first Escalade was already well into being stripped, on cinder blocks, doors and fenders off, engine on a hoist like an excised heart. Jesus and Clarence were busy with saws and impact wrenches working the Escalades over. Zippy picked up a pneumatic impact wrench, revved it a couple of times and started taking the front seat out of the second Escalade.

  Chris parked behind the other vehicles, all in a row, just like an assembly line. Funny thing about cars. Expensive enough in the first place but ten times the cost if the parts were bought individually. Engine, tranny, differential, wheels, fresh brake rotors, radiators, catalytic converters, whatever, were worth a fortune on the underground market. Even some of the legit auto parts stores dealt in these, marked as remanufactured.

  Eddie Siegler sat in his motorized wheelchair, supervising. Next to him stood a large, powerful looking man in a black track suit with a thin white stripe running down the jacket and pants. Foreign, was Chris's first thought. Even the Mafia guys didn't dress like that anymore. Eddie waved for Chris to come over. Chris got out of the Escalade, took off his driving gloves and walked toward them.

  "What took you so long?" asked Eddie.

  "Security guard. Ex cop," said Chris. "No big deal. Cost three hundred bucks, though. You got it covered?"

  "No problem," said Eddie. He looked at the man in the track suit. "This is a new friend of ours. Name's Vlad." Eddie briefly pointed to the Escalades. "This is his order."

  "Good price for parts," said Vlad in a thick accent.

  "Yes there is," said Chris.

  Vlad eyeballed Chris. "More value, though, in Mercedes and BMW," he said. "Even though I drive Cadillac."

  Typical European, thought Chris. Everything was better over there. No matter what it was. If everything was better there then what was he doing here?

  Eddie laughed, gave Chris a look, then said to Vlad, "Mercedes. BMWs. We can do those. No problem."

  This Vlad guy was big. Big and in good shape, looked like in his fifties. A lot of guys that age were powerhouses. This dude was different from what Chris had seen of the Eastern European gangster types. Clean cut. Most of them were big and heavy, wearing dense leather coats, had greasy long hair, some with beards. This dude was clean shaven and had a buzz cut.

  Chris knew Eddie was hooked up with the Italians, deep, but not with this guy.

  Eddie had a few sweet deals going and he spread them out. One was the key-cutting operation at a few dealerships. He had a couple of guys on the inside that cut keys using VINs of new cars on the lot. An order comes in, get the keys, unlock the cars, and drive away. Easy as shit. Then, go buy some used models similar to the stolen cars and retag them with the clean VINs. Cops would run them down if someone got pulled over, and they'd come up legit. Eddie sold the cars to the Italians for cheap, but still made a good profit. The Italians sold them all over New Jersey and New York. Eddie made sure the rosette rivets for the VIN plates were well accounted for and well hidden, since possession of rosette rivets was a four-year felony.

  Eddie liked doing things the easy way. Grab the low hanging fruit, take on the more difficult specialized jobs later, like the Escalade boost that Chris engineered. A car parked anywhere was a low-hanger and fair game. Just tow 'em away. That's how Clarence got hooked up with ACE Salvage, working with one of his mother's many boyfriends. One of them drove a freelance tow truck and just picked up cars off the street. The tow truck driver also did a lot of repos, carried a 38 and sometimes dealt with irate, violent deadbeats. Having Clarence along was a benefit. Clarence was short, but had muscles and knew how to fight, street style.

  The tow truck driver broke Clarence in, teaching him how to prep cars for towing, how to bust ignition locks, how to jack them right off the street and how to instantly pop open a locked door through the top of a rolled up window. Clarence caught on fast.

  Chris didn't notice Clarence glaring at him for not diving in to do the hard, gut-busting work of tearing down the Escalades. Clarence turned and pumped the handle of a leaky hydraulic jack, raising the rear end of an Escalade.

  Eddie handed Chris an envelope containing seventy five hundred dollars cash. The Escalades ran around seventy two thousand new, off lease around fifty five or sixty, which put the total around one hundred and eighty thousand. His take was around four percent, which wasn't bad. More to stash for the TradeWind.

  "What about the three hundred?" said Chris.

  Vlad took out his wallet and pulled out three bills from a stack of hundreds and handed them to Chris.

  Chris put the bills in the envelope, opened his jacket, revealing the handle of the Glock. He put the envelope in an interior pocket.

  "Glock nine millimeter," said Vlad.

  "Works every time," said Chris.

  Vlad looked at Chris, coolly. "This has worked out very well. Very efficient," he said. "Eddie tells me you organize and execute these, how you say, boosts?"

  "I do my best."

  "Maybe you could do some work for me sometime," said Vlad.

  Chris smiled. He wondered why Eddie would take on orders from this dude, with all he had already going on. The big guy towered over Eddie like a hawk over a field mouse. Eddie looked frail in his wheelchair compared to this giant. Maybe Eddie's body was broken, but not his brain, so Chris figured he was up to something that would bring in a lot of fresh cash.

  "Speaking of work," said Chris, looking at the crew stripping the Escalades. He nodded and walked over to Zippy. Zippy had the two front seats unbolted from the Escalade and Chris helped him pull them out.

  Zippy yelled out to Clarence, "Hey asshole. Get to work!"

  Clarence looked at Zippy.

  Zippy made a face and laughed.

  Clarence turned back into his work, removing the brake rotor from the left rear axle.

  "C'mon, man," said Chris. "Don't piss off Clarence. Seriously. He's moody today. He liked that Crown Vic."

  Chris saw Vlad bend down and say something to Eddie. Eddie nodded. The big guy turned and walked out.

  Two hours later the Escalade parts were stripped and boxed, most of the parts oiled and wrapped in waxy paper. Eddie was hidden in his office. Chris washed up in a dirty sink with a green bar of Lava then walked to the office.

  Eddie sat behind his Cold War vintage gray metal desk.

  "What's up with the Russian?" said Chris.

  "Albanian," said Eddie.

  "Whatever," said Chris. "What's this guy all about, anyway? Don't you have enough going on? And what about the Italians? They don't like competition."

  Eddie smiled at Chris's brashness. "Do I tell you how to s
teal cars? No." He wheeled around from behind the desk. "Don't tell me how to run my operation."

  "These dudes are nasty from what I hear, man. Russians, Albanians," said Chris. He looked down at Eddie in the chair. "The Italians at least let everyone know what the rules are, and they stick to them. They got a system and so do we. And it works. What do you know about this guy? How can you trust him?" Chris crouched down a little and looked right into Eddie's eyes. "And what's this shit about me working for him?"

  "Don't worry about it," said Eddie. "I got it covered. Vlad's up and coming, and connected downtown," he said. "He's big time in Eastern Europe, Canada too. Protected. He's got plans. Big ones."

  "I still don't like it," said Chris.

  Eddie wheeled back to his desk and looked down at some papers.

  "You don't have to," he said without looking up.

  * *

  Chris walked out through the back of the garage. He put on his black helmet, fired up his Fat Boy, feeling the low Harley rumble and rolled out of the junkyard. Stealing cars was a calculated risk. Conducting a criminal enterprise- twenty years, a hundred thousand dollars plus forfeiture of everything related. Operating a chop shop- ten years, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars plus mandatory restitution. Intent to pass false title- ten years and five thousand dollars. Receiving and concealing a motor vehicle- five years and ten thousand dollars.

  Grand theft auto- three years usually, and three years probation after that, even for a first offense. Since Chris helped strip the cars he could also be charged with operating and concealing. They all had a lot to lose. Eddie better know what he was doing…

  Chris gunned the Harley, got on Woodward and headed south toward Jefferson. He planned on throwing the keys to the torched Crown Vic and the driver's cell phone into the Detroit River.

  Chapter 4

  Elena Gets Duped

  Sami drove fast through the narrow mountain road for hours then connected on SH2 toward Tirana. The night was still and warm and the bright moon cast silver light on the trees. Elena stared out the window, rolling the situation over and over in her mind. Being separated from Sanja was killing her, even in these short hours on the road. She worried about Sanja being alone with Rada. What if Sanja did something to make Rada angry and Milos wasn't home?