by K. T. Tomb
“You’re not going to offer me coffee or something?” Naomh smiled at him.
“Yeah, yeah sure.” He lead the way to the kitchen and set about making some lattés. Giving her one of the large cups, he still did not know what to say. “How’ve you been?” he eventually asked, knowing it was a crappy question to ask.
“Fine,” she answered, stirring some sugar into her coffee. “In pain. My stitches keep tearing out. I’ve been wearing a corset for the last two days now; it has stopped me moving about so much, so there is less strain on them.”
Storm nodded. “Not been busy? I didn’t see anything on the news about your client having been on a killing spree.”
Naomh shook her head. “There is a big corporation behind her... there was... they thought it better to keep it out of the news. Cecilia, that’s Cecilia O’Hourihane, my business partner, has been working around the clock on it. She knows what happened, but it has been a nightmare trying to contain it.”
“I can imagine...”
“Still, that’s why we get paid the big bucks, exactly this.”
Storm nodded, still unsure what to say. Naomh knew she had to say something.
“Look, Storm...” she began. “If it were different, if Max weren’t in the picture...” Her voice trailed off.
It took Storm a moment to realize Max was her husband, but he knew what she was trying to say. “You don’t need to say anything. I had a great time getting to know you. And that’s worth more than anything.”
She smiled, finished her coffee and got up. She ran a hand along his cheek and kissed him tenderly. “Goodbye, Storm. It was fun. And if you ever need some help with public relations....”
“I’ll know where to find you.”
There was an issue resolved, he reckoned as he drove the racing-car-green Jaguar home, but it hardly served to make him feel any better. Back home, he sat down in his smoking room, again, with a whiskey and a Cohiba Cuban cigar and picked up his guitar. It was the usual routine. Next, he would go to the dining room for his dinner. He found some things were different around the house. His new housekeeper was still learning the ropes. The new janitor, too, was making some mistakes; there were 40-watt bulbs in his office now and a light scratch on the wooden floor in the humidor. But he was young and Johnson, thank goodness for him, had high standards and was keeping his eye on both of them.
That evening, his musings and his musical meditation were interrupted by a call. A cheerful, chirpy voice sounded through his phone and he had Johnson let the person in. Frankie Saunders sat down in the chair opposite his moments later. She crossed her legs and her arms as she waited for Storm to put his guitar down. “You need to take a chill pill,” she said as he just sat there strumming his guitar in a depressed manner. “None of this was your fault and you need to let it go.”
Storm frowned and stopped picking the strings. “I know all of that,” He sighed. “I don’t know why I can’t shake it off.” He was silent for a moment and played a single chord. “Why are you here, Frankie?”
Frankie sighed and leaned forward. “I don’t like the guy I’m engaged to, but you know that already. Good guy, but I don’t want him.”
“Ah,” was Storm’s only answer. He had a feeling about what was about to come.
“There’s only one guy I want, and anyone else is second best. I’ll settle for second best if I have to, but I don’t want to.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re here, Frankie.”
Frankie Saunders sighed. “This thing with the mayor... he cares too much. I couldn’t let him and Michael meet, so I had to avoid both of them. I can’t keep doing that. Given the way this world here works, I’ll have to settle down, get married and all. And soon...”
“But you don’t want to settle for second best?” Storm guessed.
“I only want my first choice, but I need to know soon.”
“How soon is soon?” Storm frowned.
“We moved the wedding up. It’ll be next week in California. I’m flying over tomorrow morning.” For the first time, Frankie fidgeted. “I’d hoped to get an answer from the guy tonight.”
Storm sighed and put the guitar down. “I don’t know Frankie. I really don’t know.”
Frankie Saunders nodded and got up. Storm thought he saw a glint of a tear in her eye. “I’ll see you around then, Storm. Sometime after the wedding maybe?” She hurried from the room and Storm buried his face in his hands.
Slowly he stood up and walked up the stairs. He went to the top bedroom suite and undressed. He took a quick shower and sat down on the bed. Here was another problem to add to the big list of things that had gone wrong in the last weeks. In frustration, he threw a pillow across the room and then picked up the television remote control. He turned on the big flat screen and tried to find something he wanted to watch. Eventually, he just left one of the news channels on and leaned back against the head of the bed.
“FBI agents in the Caribbean have arrested a Jamaican national by the name of Marcel Brown, nicknamed Moses, on suspicion of drug trafficking, weapons trafficking and forgery. As we speak, we have learned the man is being transported to Washington where he will face charges.”
Storm turned the television off. He did not want to think about international affairs right now. He closed the curtains and tried to go to sleep, but the image of Justine Lavoie’s body on the road below him continued to haunt him.
In the morning he woke up early. He had slept badly again and he was short tempered. He snapped at Johnson for bringing him orange juice with pulp with his breakfast. He cheered up a bit as he drove his E-type Jag as fast as he could down Linden Boulevard, but he knew he had to find another way to deal with everything than driving fast.
He ran up the stairs and sat down behind his desk again. He checked his emails and answered them. There was a reminder from Frankie Saunders that she was flying to California for her wedding and another dinner invitation from Gregoris Sedakis and Maria, his 19-year-old wife.
He knew he was stuck in a rut. He needed to get out of there. He needed to find a challenge.
He walked over to the window seat in the alcove and turned on the television again. CNN flashed on. He saw Jack Henney was filling in for someone and he heard his voice ask the reporter from Washington what he was learning.
“Well, Jack, Marcel Brown arrived at Washington Dulles International earlier today and he was transported to a holding cell in the city to be read the charges against him.”
“How is he going to plead?”
“So far, we’ve learned nothing on that count, as he does not have an attorney. It seems the case is so sensitive no attorney here will touch it. But we have received a letter from the Brown’s attorney in Kingston, Jamaica and he has informed us that his offices have submitted a formal letter to the Privy Council in England requesting that Mr. Brown be immediately released and returned to Jamaica. He claims the FBI has no right to enter a foreign country and arrested a local person on foreign charges.”
“Is he correct about that? Did the FBI have no right? And why would he write to England to fight his extradition?”
“Well, Jack, Jamaica is a part of the Commonwealth and the Queen of England is the head of state. The Privy Council is the highest court of appeal and the attorney probably thought they might be more helpful to him than the local government. As for the FBI having the right, maybe what Marcel Brown’s lawyer isn’t aware of is the fact that extradition orders were issued to and have sat with the Jamaican Government for the alleged ‘Kingpin’ since 2009.
“Marcel’s gang has been a thorn in the side of law enforcement on the East Coast for the better part of two decades; one of the most notorious gangs in United States history. They’re aggressive and resilient in their bid for territory in which to distribute the massive amounts of marijuana and cocaine they have coming in from the Caribbean and as they’ve gained footing in New York and New Jersey, they’ve also become known for their crude and vicious techniques of
eradicating their competition.
“Until now, Marcel has remained virtually untouchable, keeping a low profile and high security around him as he remained entrenched in his home community in Inner City, Kingston. He preferred to send out others to do his dirty work and he did so very effectively through enforcers and soldiers who ran his operations in every major city up and down the Eastern seaboard.
“Drugs, guns, extortion, you name it; Marcel Brown is accused of having a finger in it, without ever entering the U.S. for any extended period of time. That was why it had been so hard for the authorities to get their hands on him. How could they? He was safely tucked away in one of the most volatile neighborhoods in the world.”
Jack took over again.
“Meanwhile, we hear reports coming from Jamaica that the arrest has caused serious conflict between rival gangs.”
Storm only half-watched the news and took his coffee back to his desk. He looked through the caseload that was coming in this morning, but he found nothing interesting. Sedakis needed help again, but it was routine stuff. Morris, his neighbor, needed his help sorting out something with a copyright issue. He had cheated some writer out of royalties for a decade and the guy was getting angry.
His mind kept drifting. His mind drifted to the events of the past weeks again and he decided enough was enough. He thought about the news item he had just heard and he Googled the name he had heard. He skipped the first search results until he found an article from a local paper.
THE JAMAICA GLEANER
May 24, 2010
HEADLINE: Attack On State—Police Stations Set Ablaze Cop Shot Civilian Slain
Violence rocked sections of the West Kingston area throughout the day yesterday. Armed men brazenly took on the security forces in sustained attacks on police stations in anticipation of the apprehension of Inner City don, Marcel ‘Moses’ Brown. Four police stations came under attack; a civilian succumbed to gunshot wounds during an assault on the Fletcher’s Land Police Station, and a policeman sustained a minor gunshot injury.
The Prime Minister said last night that two members of the security forces had been injured, but The Gleaner could not confirm the second case.
There were indications before dawn broke that something was afoot—five days after the Washington DC Supreme Court issued a warrant for Brown’s arrest.
A Gleaner team observed a large convoy of Jamaica Defense Force vehicles—including armored trucks—with soldiers heading into Kingston along the Michael Manley Boulevard.
The tension, which simmered under the surface of day to day life throughout West Kingston, reached its boiling point yesterday as gunmen loyal to Brown came out in a show of support. Even as the security forces seemed to retreat as the day wore on, gunshots rang out and rained down until the early hours of the morning, causing residents in political strongholds to scurry for cover.
Darling Street & Denham Town Police Station
Early in the day, soldiers attempted to remove roadblocks of old cars and refrigerators which were mounted with increasing frequency in the areas surrounding Darling Street. Within an hour, the Darling Street Police Station came under attack. In the absence of strong opposition from local Constabulary Forces, the gunmen grew bold. By the afternoon, they progressed through the city’s ghetto and the Denham Town police station became the next target.
Hannah Town Police Station
Shots have been fired on the Hannah Town Police Station, forcing personnel to be evacuated. Armed thugs looted the empty station, removing computers and other equipment before razing the west wing of the building to the ground.
Downtown Medical Facilities
Medical staff at the nearby Kingston Public Hospital (KPH) and Victoria Jubilee Hospital have been put on alert. The unending sounds of gunshots punctured the air surrounding the two compounds. Medical staff have been abandoning their posts at both locations as they seek cover and safety.
Constabulary Forces have been dispatched to both locations to provide security, but the shots have not ceased in nearby Hannah Town and Denham Town.
Injured Officers and Civilians
It has been confirmed that an armored police vehicle brought the Police Commissioner, Owen Ellington to the KPH gun trauma unit. He released a statement that confirmed he was shot in the hand. The Commissioner’s condition is not considered serious.
A white Toyota Town Ace minivan brought a man into the Accident and Emergency Unit in critical condition. It was understood that gunmen sprayed his vehicle as they attacked the Fletcher’s Land Police Station, hitting the occupant multiple times in the chest. He later died at the hospital. The police did not release his name.
The Police Commissioner said yesterday that the security forces would respond in an appropriate manner. “It is now clear that criminal elements are determined to launch coordinated attacks on our security forces,” he said in his statement. “The JCF wishes to advise the public that these attacks are unprovoked and coincide with our efforts to lawfully serve the public,” he added.
The Prime Minister has condemned the ‘calculated assault on our local authorities.’ A limited state of emergency has been put into effect with a curfew in West Kingston areas. He vowed that the security forces will use any force necessary to counter these thugs who have wreaked havoc on the capital.
“Let us make no mistake. The threats that have emerged to the safety and security of our people will be repelled with strong and decisive action. This will be a turning point for us as a nation to confront the powers of evil that have penalized the society and earned us the unenviable label as one of the murder capitals of the world. We must confront this criminal element with determination and unqualified resolve.”
He also sought to assure Jamaicans that the city was ‘not being shut down’ and that there should be business as usual after today’s Labor Day holiday. Schools will reopen on Tuesday, he said.
The Government yesterday declared a state of public emergency for the parishes of Kingston and St Andrew, as tension mounted in the Jamaican capital. The state of emergency will remain in place for one month and may be adjusted by Parliament.
Meanwhile, the Commissioner of Police said the security forces will respond with appropriate action. He said that images of barricades, other defensive positions, together with credible intelligence, indicate that scores of criminals from several gangs across the island have joined criminal elements in the Inner City.
***
Storm grinned. It was the sort of case he liked. It was the sort of thing he wanted to be dealing with.
That afternoon, at home, he turned the television on again and he heard the news anchor report on the man again. There was still no attorney to answer any questions. The man was obviously guilty. And even if he was not, the situation back home was bleak too. The moment he was removed from his powerbase, all hell broke loose and all his old partners, the people who ran things for him on the island, had begun to try and claim the top job. Chaos had broken out and even the man’s political allies had deserted him.
The Prime Minister had appeared on the news several times now, expertly dodging questions about Marcel Brown and his criminal activities, the corrupt government contacts that the man was rumored to have, and the year old extradition request that had laid unconsidered in the Jamaican courts that no one, even the suspect’s lawyer, seemed to be aware of. Instead, he emphasized the fight that the authorities were now taking against criminal elements in downtown Kingston and that their defiance in the removal process of Brown from Inner City, as they launched attacks against personnel and infrastructure, was considered a threat against the state. He was ordering a State of Emergency and curfews were being placed in several areas of the city.
Another person who had spoken out was the Prime Minister of Antigua and Barbuda, the current chairman of CARICOM. He had found the perfect moment to heckle the United States for illegally interfering in the CARICOM community. After the new treaties and regulations the US had been forcin
g onto the CARICOM members, he now had a reason to really stick it to the president and his government.
The news channel brought a report from the Deputy Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, who cleverly straddled the fence with all his comments regarding the US and the approach they had seemingly taken to remove Brown from Jamaica and the hands of the government they suspected was trying to protect him. Mostly, he just said that he hoped the violence in Jamaica would be dealt with quickly. He also hoped the Jamaican communities across the United Kingdom would not resort to violence to voice their displeasure with the current situation in Jamaica.
Storm suddenly made up his mind. He picked up his phone and rang the State Attorney in Washington. He knew the man. He was a second cousin and it had been him who had urged Storm to go to law school. Storm knew it was late, but the phone was answered after only three rings.
“It’s Storm.”
“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”
“Good. How are you? How’s the family?”
“They’re doing fine. Me; busy, stressed, but otherwise fine. Not why you’re calling though, is it?”
“No, I wanted to ask you something.”
“What did you want to ask?”
“That guy the FBI is holding, the Jamaican. I want the case.”
“You’re in New York, you can’t be on the prosecuting team. I’ve already got someone on that.”
“No, I mean I’ll defend him.”
“Why would you want to do that? It’s a case you can’t win.”
“Let’s just say I’d like the challenge.”
“Well, if you want it, you’ve got it. You’re the only one who seems to want to defend the guy, so have fun.” There was a pause. “I heard about the Lavoie girl; she was your client, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, that was a challenge of another kind altogether.”
“Entertainers always are. But if you want, I’ll get one of the family’s jets out there to pick you up.”
