“She’s my friend, Knocks. I don’t judge my friends. She could come home with a dominatrix, and I’d just offer her the rest of my pizza. She has female intuition, and that’s why I need you to run Jabril through AFIS to see if he’s legit.”
“Moira’s crazy in her own right. She doesn’t avoid bullets like you, but an STD could be just as deadly.”
“We both have been through that class, Knocks. We wear protection, and we ask first,” she said.
“And a boyfriend she wants me to put through AFIS won’t lie to her,” Tanaka said. “That girl’s playing Russian Roulette with four bullets.”
“When you find out his background, you’ll take two of those bullets away. Give her a break. She’s successful in a male dominated profession, and she wants to enjoy her success the same way the guys do.”
Tanaka didn’t want to get into that, so he opened up his desk drawer to get her digital recorder.
“Here, you may want to use this just in case Jabril goes chauvinist ass all over Moira, and you want evidence.” He gave it to her.
“Aw, Knocks! You got cannoli cream all over the parabolic microphone!” She was upset.
Tanaka gave her his handkerchief. It’ll still work. Where did you get that Bond contraption anyway?”
“I don’t have a pet Q in my secret layer. I ordered it from Delvation dot com.”
“So you went all MI6 spy from a European site, huh?”
“Europe’s good at surveillance, and we’re good at making guns. I don’t use guns. That’s your domain.”
Tanaka tried to stump her.
Where’s the catch dish? A parabolic mic has a catch dish.”
She pressed a button, and a virtual light dish surrounded the recorder.
“Like I said, the Europeans are good.”
“Well, take your space detective recording device, you might need it.”
“You have a rifle that shoots around corners now so don’t think technology just stops with law enforcement. We grow as well,” she said. “Okay, Knocks, I’ll be back Saturday with the pics.”
“Get his fingerprints too. AFIS is a fingerprint recognition system.”
She acknowledged, got up, and left Tanaka with his evidence.
~~~
“How does this look, Hun?”
Moira was in a very tight cat suit. Sheddi looked at her protruding moose knuckle, and shook her head.
“I’m doing the investigation, you’re going out with the Rastafarian Ranger to his club. He wants to show you off, but not for sale. Don’t wear that moose knuckle displayer.”
Moira looked at her tight suit, and looked back at Sheddi.
“It does have that street hooker vibe going on, doesn’t it?”
Sheddi went into the closet, and pulled out her Vera Wang dress.
“Here, you want to look like a fifty thousand dollar a night call girl. Be an elegant slut.”
Moira went to put on her dress, and Sheddi checked to see if her gear was in working order. Tanaka really ‘creamed’ her recorder.
After she did her preliminary checks of her recorder, she took test photos in the dark to see if the zero lux filter was still good.
When she capped her lens, Moira came out in the dress. Sheddi looked up, and smiled.
“You look like Roisin Murphy, Moira McGuinnes.”
“Rosheen who?”
“You’re young, and from Ireland. You not knowing Roisin is like a Scotsman not knowing who William Wallace was. She’s a singing music legend in Ireland.”
“I haven’t studied any Celtic music. All I know is Enya.”
Sheddi went to her computer, and played an MP3 of a track from Overpowered. Moira listened, and began to groove.
“Where did you find her?”
“You’re Irish, We’re friends and roommates, and I’m an investigator. I looked her up when she was with Moloko, her previous band,” Sheddi said.
”She doesn’t sound Irish.”
“You were also born in Ireland, and you don’t sound Irish either.”
“I left Galway when I was thirteen so I lost my accent.”
Sheddi referenced an interview with Roisin, and Moira heard her Irish accent.
“As you can tell, she still lives in Europe.” Sheddi said.
“I have to admit, she sounds funkier than Enya.”
“Hey, Enya’s my girl too. Don’t sleep on Enya.” Sheddi wanted to educate Moira on her own musical culture.
Their doorbell rang. “Jabril’s here. Put on your ‘do me’ pumps, and I’ll buzz him up.”
She buzzed him in. As Jabril climbed the steps, Sheddi put away her gear. He knocked on the door, and she answered it.
“Hey, Jabril.”
Jabril looked around to see just her.
“Where’s ya date, gal?” He asked her as he put his soda in the garbage.
“My date’s my pillow tonight. I’m not coming.”
“Aw, ya can tag along, Sheddi.”
“This is you and Moira’s night. I’m not third wheeling. I’m too tired to dance anyway.”
Moira finally came out looking stunning. “Hi, Jabril.”
Jabril saw her sensuality, walked up to her with the rose he bought, gave it to her, and kissed her.
“Ya look amazin’, baby.”
“Thank you. Actually, thank Sheddi for this look. I knew we were going to dance so I wore a cat suit at first. She told me of my Moose Knuckle Syndrome so she put me in this. The girl’s a Tom boy, but she knows her fashion.”
Jabril looked at Sheddi.
“Thanks, Sheddi, but ya just got ya gal in trouble. Don’t expect her in t’night.”
“I kinda figured that,” she said. “Now you should understand my third wheel decline. I designed her for an extended stay with a Rasta.”
“Ya fine, baby,” Jabril told Moira. “Ya can dance ta Sun is Shinin’ in that.”
Moira kissed him.
“We’re going out to move to some Marley, Sheddi. Don’t wait up.” Moira kissed her on the cheek, and grabbed her clutch. “What’s the name of this place again?”
“I never told ya before, Gal. We’re goin’ to tha Jamaican Jerk. Me friend’s tha deejay t’night.”
Sheddi got her information. Moira was a good operative.
As they left the apartment, Sheddi grabbed his soda can for the fingerprints, got online to locate the Jamaican Jerk club. It was 25 miles north. She put on her stealth gear to remain invisible, and locked the address in her personal GPS device. She geared up with her tourist Statue of Liberty T over her Lycra top, and looked like a Nebraska lady marveling over a real city. She went to the subway to get to the club to surveil, and snap a few shots.
She got into the subway train, and ran into some thugs.
“Hey, Chill Dawg, Check out that fine tourist.”
“She must be from the Islands because she’s got that milk chocolate skin.”
It was official to her they were chauvinist thugs set to mess with her.
Chill Dawg sauntered up to her.
“Hey baby, you speaka de English?”
Sheddi looked at him in disgust.
“Yes, I ‘speaka de English, je pale Français, y ponimayu na Russkiy. What language do you want to hear go away, I’m really not interested in?”
“Oh, we got us a smart one here, Nate! She don’t qualify for Shawty Duty! I’m steppin’ offa Ice Queen! She don’t deserve that typa back if she ain’t twerkin’ on the corner!”
Sheddi knew how to avoid the idiots, but if they became aggressive, pepper spray, and Krav Maga were her powerful back-ups.
As the thugs began to harass another lady, Sheddi had to calculate her surveillance. She had to play the invisible tourist in a Jamaican club. She had to remember Jah Cure, Stick Figure, Shaggy, and Bob Marley in order to mingle with the Rasta’s musical knowledge.
“Yo, Nate! Ole’ girl tryin’ ta resist my chill!” Chill Dawg yelled out to his friend.
“Look, sir, I’m no
t interested in your ‘chill’, or whatever you possess. I have a firefighter husband, and he wouldn’t approve of your advances. Leave me alone!”
“We got a ‘uppity’ bitch over here! She ain’t all smart like Chocolate Thunder over there, so I think she’s ready for Shawty Duty!” Chill grabbed her ass. She jumped.
“Make no mistake! I will call the police on you for sexual assault!” She brandished her phone.
“Aw, girl. I’d hit those skins, and make you dump Fire Boy befo’ the po po ever show.” Chill had this ‘rape type’ grin on his face.
Sheddi had enough of these punks, and walked up to Chill Dawg.
“Yo, Chill! I wanna be yo ‘pressure point shawty,” she said, put her hand on his collar bone, and Chill collapsed to the floor of the train!
“Wa’ she do to ya, Chill?!” She dashed to Nate, and applied the same nerve disruption.
“I did that, Nate. Now since both of you are paralyzed, listen with those sunglass holders. Women do not like your street thug brashness, and would like not to be harassed. Read a book on relationships, and I don’t think Shawty is a mutual pet name. You’re getting off at the next stop.”
“We got Rhonda Rouseyed, Nate! Ole girl ain’t no joke!” Chill Dawg said through the pain.
“Yo, how we gon’ get off at the next stop when we meetin’ Ganja Pop at the Jerk?”
We gon’ hafta get the next train. He can wait, Nate.”
“Ninja bitch messed up my legs, Chill. I can’t even walk to get off at the next stop.”
As the car slowed down, Sheddi dragged Nate to the door. The other lady drug Chill. As the doors opened, she pushed them both out.
“I said next stop. You didn’t care for that woman’s fear so why should I care if you can walk? Catch the next one, fellas. You’ll be able to walk in fifteen minutes.” The doors slid closed.
Sheddi turned around to clapping.
“Y’know, I say it all the time about stopping those wiggers, but you actually did it. Good on ya.” A man shook her hand.
“You sound more racist than they did. I wonder where they get it from.” Sheddi said sarcastically.
“Where’d you learn that nerve pinch thing?” Another teenager asked.
“Sometimes, life hands you lemons,” Sheddi said to everyone. “You just have to learn how to squash those lemons.”
The rest of the trip was uneventful, but at least Sheddi warmed up for her next encounter which would be a little more serious than street punks.
~~~
Sheddi got out at her stop. She scaled the stairs, and saw the Jamaican Jerk Club across the street. She already knew Moira and Jabril had arrived. They were probably on the floor already. Sheddi became covert by sticking out as a tourist. If she was Asian she could wear her camera without a problem. Stereotyped thrived in New York.
She walked into the club, and she heard a Reggae version of The Isley Brother’s hit, Summer Breeze. Everyone was dancing.
She saw Moira and Jabril in the middle of the dance floor. She inched to an inconspicuous table, and activated her recorder. She couldn’t hear them with her naked ear, but she picked up their conversation through the parabolic microphone. Being in a dance club wearing earplugs would raise unwanted curiosity.
After No Woman No Cry came on, the two held hands, and walked to a back exit. Sheddi had to do her job. She loved getting into the murk of an assignment, whether it be a Ukraine, Italian illegal tech buy, or helping her friend.
Sheddi sprinted out of the front of the club, and went across the street to hide behind a dumpster. She prepared her recorder, and camera to get optimal evidence for Moira. Another decked out Lincoln drove towards them from deeper in the alley.
A taller man got out of the Lincoln, and Sheddi put in her earplugs.
“Moira, Ganja Pop. He wants ta make ya a offer, Gal.” She heard from Jabril.
“I hears ya a hedge fund manager,” Pop said.
“Yes I am. What is this?”
“We just wanta know ya.”
“Well actually, Mister Pop, I really don’t know what Jabril does,” Moira said.
“He’s a recruiter in our organization. He’s not a dealer,” Pop said. “He’s wit’ the Dread Mambas.”
Sheddi’s eyes widened.
The Dread Mambas are the biggest posse drug cartel in Kingston! What would they need Moira for?!
As the devastating information went through her mind, she quickly gave Tanaka a text to get over there.
Moira’s realization donned on her. Jabril wasn’t her boyfriend, she was his prospect!
“Now if ya don’t know us, we distribute pleasure to tha underprivileged. We have an international shipment comin’ from Kingston, and we need a number cruncher to make sure our shipment arrives wit’ out a hitch.”
Moira felt very stupid because of the situation his muscles, accent, and long hair drug her in. She wanted wild, innocent adventure, not illegally dangerous adventure. She got angry.
“You sell drugs to the lower incomed barrios of New York! That’s vile, and I’ll have no part of it!”
Pop looked at Jabril.
“I taught ya said she was ready.”
“I taught she was! She’s been fine wit’ it all! She even took the ‘ere fiyah!”
This is goin’ south real quick, Knocks. Get here! Went through Sheddi’s mind. It felt like something very wrong was about to go down.
“Look, Gal, ya know what I do now. Just agree, and this won’t hafta get ugly,” Jabril pleaded with Moira. “I thought you were a sexy sweet man, Jabril,” Moira said. “Now I just realized you’re trying to sell me as the property you don’t own!” She began to walk away.
Jabril grabbed her arm, and Sheddi clicked away.
“Hol’ up, Gal! We ain’t finished yet!”
“Get your hand offa me, Jabril!” she hit him in the chest, but didn’t faze him. He just gripped harder to get her to stop.
A man can be very powerful over a woman, but that power can be disrupted with one well-placed swift kick. Moira went for a Vinatiere extra point on his testicles!
Jabril yelled, and released Moira immediately to tend to his groin. She began to run away as the sirens from Tanaka’s team advanced to the location. Ganja Pop took out a Glock, and shot her in the leg!
“Moira!” Sheddi yelled from across the street.
Ganja Pop looked over to her, and shot Moira in the back. Then he leveled his gun at Sheddi, and began to fire!
Sheddi ducked as the sirens got louder. She ran into a bodega to get away, and Ganja Pop shattered the window.
The sirens were menacingly close so Pop looked at Jabril’s fetal positioned body.
“When ya can stand, get her, and kill her! No witnesses!”
He got into his Lincoln, and left. Jabril struggled to get up, and limp towards the bodega. Sheddi wasn’t damaged, and was a track star in high school. She didn’t waste any time by dashing out of the bodega to run up the street away from Jabril.
“YA DEAD, SHEDDI! YA CAN’T RUN WHEN I KNOW WHERE YA LIVE!”
He was right. She couldn’t go home, and Moira was shot! That wasn’t what she was good with. Bullet avoidance was her job. Things just got very intense.
Chapter Two: Out of Sorts
This was supposed to be a break from the crazy! I’m a crazy magnet! Sheddi thought as she dashed down the street.
Moira was shot! I hope he didn’t finish the job. That Pop dude is dark. Maybe Knocks knows him. I’ll call, and ask him when I get to Osei’s place.
Osei was one of her friends from Ghana. She knew he was at home because he never drank, and didn’t really care for the New York lifestyle. She went down into a terminal, and got on the subway to his apartment.
Osei’s with Laila’s Shepards so he should be fine with helping me, she thought as she traveled to his place. Osei wasn’t into all of the dark underworld exploits she tangoed with, but he did help the orphans of Harlem so he should be fine with the aid.
She finally got to his building, and rang his buzzer. He looked out the second story window, saw Sheddi, and buzzed her in. Sheddi went up the stairs, and saw Osei’s arms wide ready to greet her.
“It has been a long time, Tina. What brings you here?” Osei asked using her nick name.
She went to him, and gave him a hug.
“I’m in deep, Osei. I was watching my friend on a date with her new beau, and she met another guy through him. She found out they were members of the Dread Mambas. She tried to get away, but the big guy shot her. I screamed, was discovered, and her old boyfriend chased me. I got away successfully, but he knows where I live so I need your help.”
Osei was surprised.
“Come in, Tina. I’ll make some herbal tea, and we can talk about this.”
Sheddi wiped her tears, and went into Osei’s apartment.
She sat on his couch, and he put on a kettle.
“So the Dread Mambas killed your friend, and now they want you dead as well?”
“My friend Moira got shot. I don’t know if they killed her. I have to call my detective friend to find out.” She dialed Tanaka.
He answered on the first ring. “Where are you, Dedzo?”
“I’m not on a secure line, Knocks. I’m safe, just leave it at that.”
“My line is secure, Kid. Where are you?” Tanaka asked again.
“They don’t want you dead. They might not have even tapped my line, but I don’t want to introduce any more chaos. How’s Moira?” she asked.
“Lucky. That bullet entered two inches from her spine. She’s labeled under serious condition. Who did this to her?”
“I know you’ve been on the force for an eon, so you may know this name. Ganja Pop shot Moira.” She looked up at Osei, and gave a thumbs up., and mouthed she’s okay.
Tanaka knew him.
“The Dread Mambas have been my nemesis for eight years now. I know Ganja Pop, and what he does, but he’s my Zodiac Killer. I can’t catch him. This just got subterranean deep, Kid. You’re probably tapped right now so just say yea, or neigh from now on, and did you disable your cell GPS?”
Sheddi was surprised he asked her that. GPS disabling is Investigator 101.
“Yea,” she said very sarcastically.
Wrong Step (Urban Fiction): A Sinister Syndicate Thriller Page 2
