Ungoverned: A Thriller and Suspense Novel (Ungoverned Series Book 1)

by Shawn Raiford

  “Damn, he wasn’t lying,” Mitch mumbled, walking off. “Fuck me!” He grabbed the small blanket off the fence, and covered the little girl.

  Mitch came back and glanced over at Creed. “I’ll call it in.”

  He pulled out his phone and stabbed the screen with a finger, placing it up to his ear, closing his eyes, the troll continued sanding his eyeballs.

  Chapter Ten

  Crime Scene

  He walked the space between the buildings with Mitch.

  Mitch had called in the dead body and spoke to their lieutenant who stated he would try to come to the crime scene, but he had a meeting with the police chief so he wasn’t sure if he could make it.

  The Investigators didn’t expect to find much, but walked the scene anyway with a crime-scene tech. Not a lot of ground to cover, but an entire case could be made on a single piece of evidence.

  Art could have lied about being alone while dumping the body. He could have had an accomplice who didn’t wear gloves and touched something, like a Coke can, or a gum wrapper. Also, someone else could have dumped her and told him about it later.

  So he had to check everything.

  Criminals weren’t known for their smarts, that’s why most get caught.

  Both investigators jumped back over the fence.

  Henry looked over at the M.E., Medical Examiner, Dr. Cecilia Herrera. She leaned over the body. He walked up to her and stopped, then he heard someone walk up next to him. It was Mitch.

  He sighed. “He’s at the hospital right now?” Mitch requested, scratching his head.

  “Yup,” he said, moving his gloved hands to the inside of his jacket, resting on his hips.

  “A little girl was murdered and we have a guy in the hospital who won’t tell us more. You know it won’t be long before the media gets whiff of this, then—” Mitch said, stopping mid-sentence. With his head drooped, his eyes inspected the ground. He exhaled loudly through his mouth, giving birth to white puffs, swirling, dancing, dissipating.

  Reading over his notes, Henry said, “The guy, Arthur Murphy, told me that he got a call from his boss, wouldn’t give me his name. His boss told Art to go to the guy’s house to help him to dispose of a body. Art gets there, picks it up, and takes the body away and dumps it here. And that’s all I have so far.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Get A Glimpse

  Mitch studied a rat.

  It exited a hole in the wall of the blue building. The rodent was a big sucker. Big enough for a saddle. It walked a few feet and stopped. It raised its snout high, sniffing the air, sitting there like a roadside spectator.

  Finally, it tottered off down the side of the building, probably going to hunt for food. Only reason to be out in this cold. Mitch almost envied the rodent.

  Feeling the weight of the potential shit storm replacing his hangover, Mitch said, “We need to go back, talk to Art and get some answers.”

  Creed nodded as he moved closer to Dr. Herrera. “So? What we got?”

  She glanced up and sighed, shaking her head. “She was definitely strangled and there was evidence of sexual activity.”

  Mitch glared up at the sky, needing to feel small. If he and humans were insignificant then none of this shit mattered. Humans could continue killing each other, and the universe didn’t care one bit.

  It was a beautiful day, but only subjectively speaking. How could any day be beautiful when babies like this beautiful little girl were murdered?

  Mitch glanced back, hoping to get a glimpse of the rat, but it was gone.

  He needed a drink.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Meeting

  They walked into the brick building, and stood in what was once a lobby.

  Lukas observed a blond man entering the lobby from the opposite side.

  Archie jutted out his chin. “That’s him.

  Lukas nodded.

  The brick building, a single-story building, had been abandoned. Most of the windows were broken, the walls were dingy, and the floors were covered with a layer of dirt and trash.

  They walked up to within a few feet of the blond man. Lukas didn’t sense fear in him. Archie and Stan nodded, but Lukas didn’t.

  He surveyed the area, beer bottles, candy wrappers, and empty potato-chip bags were strewn about. Looked as if teenagers had found a spot to unwind.

  Dusty desks, old chairs, and remnants of office cubicles occupied the floor like slain soldiers on an old forgotten battlefield.

  The blond man stepped forward. “Good morning gentlemen, my name is Carter. This way, please follow me.”

  He led them through a series of what used to be offices. They entered a room, which at one time was an office. The windows were boarded up except for one, allowing light to enter. A section of the far wall had crumbled away.

  A man stood next to a white folding table. One Starbucks to-go container, a white cardboard box, and a brown briefcase all lay on top.

  The man had a thin build, and dark, brown-orange hair, which was combed straight back. His hairless angular face, full of dark leathery wrinkles like a well-oiled baseball mitt.

  Lukas sat down in between his captains, Archie, and Stan. He hoped this meeting wouldn’t be a waste of his time.

  A big bust had cost him almost half his men. The cops ended up with the cocaine, and he was out the buy money, which was just over a million. He knew who ratted his guys out and had the rodent exterminated.

  The guys he lost ended up in prison. They were all loyal soldiers, none cut any deals, so their families received hazard pay. In all, Lukas was out almost a couple of million bucks.

  After the busts, it had been hard to do business, because his name had been tainted, and some of his Mexican drug suppliers were now skittish, wanting to wait and let things cool down.

  Just before the bust Lukas gave into his sentimental side and gave over five million dollars to Stan to invest in stock. He had a tip, from a buddy, on an amazing stock. Stan promised to triple Lukas’s money. He was going to give his son half the profit, but the stock tanked. He and his buddy tried to explain what happened, but Lukas didn’t want to listen. The reason didn’t matter, Lukas had lost over four million dollars. He had Archie and two other guys deal with Stan’s buddy. They used a bat on his shins and told him never to talk to Stan again. Anybody else would have killed.

  He still had a few million dollars’ worth of real estate, and still might have to sell some of it off. If it weren’t for his gambling houses, Lukas would be completely broke. He still was weary that HPD were aware of them and they could be gone tomorrow.

  Now, this Mr. White wanted to talk business. He sold diamonds and ran upscale call-girls or that was the word on the street.

  Carter, a guy who worked for Mr. White, offered twenty-thousand dollars to present a serious business proposition. Twenty-grand for a few minutes talking was easy money.

  “Gentlemen, good morning, please come sit. We brought coffee and Kolaches.”

  Carter reminded Lukas of a young, but ugly Brad Pitt. This blond fag seemed like a weird kind of weird. He could not put his finger on it.

  Each man served himself a cup of coffee. In his day, no one brought goodies to a fucking meeting. That’s what women did. Coffee and Kolaches? Where’s the cake? And tea?

  They sat.

  Norman White sat directly across from Lukas.

  The blond man sat next to Mr. White. Lukas noticed White’s dark, soulless eyes, and the huge scar that ran across his face, starting above his right eye, continuing over his nose, and ending on his cheek on the left side of his mouth.

  Nice battle scar.

  “Mr. Zimmerman, this is Mr. White,” Carter said.

  “Please call me Norman,” Mr. White said.

  He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a black, cylindrical container. He opened it, grabbed a cigar, and held it out. “You mind?”

  He grinned respectfully, extending a hand, palm up. “Not at all Mr. Zimmerman.”
>
  Stan pulled out a lighter and lit his father’s cigar.

  He puffed on the cigar. He held up the plastic container, “Sorry, I would offer you one, but I only brought the one.”

  He nodded ever so slightly. “That is quite all right Mr. Zimmerman, I don’t smoke.”

  “Please, call me Lukas.”

  White nodded. “Alright, Lukas.”

  Carter grabbed the briefcase and opened it, pulling out stacks of money. He placed the stacks on the table and pushed them forward towards Archie.

  “As agreed, twenty-thousand dollars, Lukas,” Norman said.

  Archie took the money, counted it. He turned to Lukas. “We’re good.”

  “I’m here, freezing my balls off, what do you want Mr. White?” He blew smoke, up and away from everybody.

  “Ah, yes, well first I would like to thank you for meeting with me on such short notice Mr. Zimmerman.”

  Lukas placed the hand holding the cigar in front of him on the table. “Twenty grand puts you ahead of the line.”

  “As I hoped it would. My assistant and I are here this morning to make you a business proposition.”

  Lukas nodded. He never personally ran girls, and not that knowledgeable about diamonds, but he wasn’t in any position to turn down any method to generate money. “Alright, what kind of proposition? Heard you were into high end call girls and diamonds.”

  Norman smirked. “Oh, Lukas, you are well informed. I have ran upscale call girls and cater to let’s say, other sexual predilections. The diamonds are new, and I would say it could be a passing phase. There’s too much competition.”

  “Why am I here?” Lukas asked.

  “You see, the high-end girls are just a small portion of my business. I know a select group of wealthy people, and within that group lies another group, a group that has peculiar predilections when it comes to sex.”

  Lukas grunted, taking a puff on his cigar, blowing smoke up. “Sorry, I’m not sure I understand what that means.”

  “Let’s say my clientele, this wealthy sub group, lean towards the younger members of society, when it comes to sex,” answered Mr. White, placing the file on the table in front of him.

  “Oh,” Lukas leaned in and lowered his voice, “you talking, about kid rapers?”

  Archie moved a little in his seat, pivoting his head towards Stan.

  He blinked and took in a breath, sitting up a little straighter. “We do not call them that,” Mr. White whispered, adjusting the long sleeve of his shirt under his jacket.

  “What the hell do you call them?” Lukas asked, glancing back at Archie and Stan, putting his cigar in his mouth, biting down on the end, grinning like a schoolyard bully who just took a blind kid’s lunch money.

  “Lukas, I call them, well-paying customers,” Mr. White said, now his turn to wear a grin.

  “Ah, good one Norman, but you still haven’t told me why I’m here,” Lukas said, pulling his cigar from his teeth.

  He pointed to Carter. “Well, for us business is good, and I believe it‘s time to expand. I’m making a lot of money, and can tell you the profit’s are tremendous.”

  Lukas took a puff on his cigar.

  “My clientele is very wealthy and some even like drugs.I have a couple who like your heroin and cocaine.”

  Lukas said nothing.

  “A client or two, lawyers, may have given me your name when talking about business. I hear only good things about you and your business. I hear that you are smart, cautious, and incredibly ruthless,” White said.

  Lukas grinned. “How come I haven’t heard of you before a year ago? Where are you from?”

  “Good question. I am originally from here. Born in west Texas, but raised right here in Houston. I left twenty years ago after I had a little trouble, nothing serious. It turned out to be good for me. I have seen the world twice over. The last few years I’ve been yearning for home. Did you know that Houston is a major hub for child trafficking. There is a lot of potential here.”

  Lukas nodded. "Yes."

  Norman grinned. “I made some calls with people I have kept in contact with over the years and decided to come back last year.”

  Cigar between index and middle fingers, Lukas leaned forward. “And you were trafficking kids in other countries?”

  “Yes, Thailand, the Eastern Block, Europe, Russia, all over really. It's much easier to pay off the police and politicians in those places than here, but there's so much money to be made her..”

  He took a puff from the cigar. “What have you done here since coming back?”

  “For the last year I have worked only locally, establishing contacts. But recently, in the last few weeks, I have started doing a little business with new clients in New York, and Connecticut. They tell me there is a huge demand for my merchandise there.”

  “So, what do you need from me?”

  “Carter, nor myself can personally ship the merchandise up north, we can’t handle the logistics. To meet demand, I need to secure shipping routes and I need more men.”

  Lukas placed his cigar hand on the table. “Let me get this straight, you want me to provide routes and men to transport kids?”

  “Yes, that’s correct, children and young women.”

  Lukas poured himself a cup of coffee. “I understand business is business, men of our caliber can’t let emotion sway our decisions, but why would I want to enter into this type of business? It’s not like drugs, most people and politicians don’t give a shit about drug use. Hell, some politicians are some of my best customers, but everybody cares about missing kids or women, so that means more heat.” He took a sip of his coffee.

  White nodded. “You are indeed correct, no one cares about drugs, a victimless crime. Like prostitution. It would make your head spin if you knew the politicians I helped find companionship. Lukas, in this world, men of our caliber, make our own way. We do not allow others to dictate the terms. Money is money. I admit, this part of business is a bit seedy, but all that means is there is a lot more money to be made.”

  Nodding in acknowledgement, Lukas said, “I understand.”

  “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward, correct?”

  Lukas shifted in his seat.

  “So as a gesture of goodwill, and to show you I am serious about this business arrangement, I will give you something as a down payment.” He gestured to Carter with his right hand. He bent over and retrieved a briefcase, placed it on the table in front of Lukas. He entered a combination and opened it.

  Lukas took another sip of coffee.

  He rotated the briefcase one hundred eighty degrees, opening it all the way.

  “A quarter of a million dollars to get us started. Your organization will be paid twenty-thousand dollars per unit.” Norman interlocked his fingers, and placed his arms in front of him on the table.

  This got Lukas’s attention.

  They spoke specifics about cost and profit, the routes, duties, for another fifteen minutes.

  Lukas stuck out his meaty paw. “So, we have a deal?”

  Norman looked over at Carter, who pulled back the briefcase slightly.

  Leaning forward, the blond man spoke softly. “Sir, there is one thing we need you to do for us. If you can’t, it will be a deal breaker.”

  Stan’s right hand moved toward his waist. “What is it?”

  Lukas turned slowly and glared at his captain. Stan stepped back and said, “Sorry.”

  He would have to talk to Stan later about his outburst. His son needed to learn patience if he planned to take over the business one day. He turned, and faced Carter. “What do you need?”

  Carter grabbed a manila folder from a spot on the floor next to him, and placed it on the table. He opened it, and rotated it, and pushed the folder forward.

  Lukas spotted pictures of two men, clipped to the file.

  Carter put a finger on a spot equidistance to the men in the photos. He squinted, meeting Lukas’s eyes like two pairs of magnets coming together.
/>
  “We need these two cops killed.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Memories

  I went to a dive bar last night, wanting to get drunk.

  I started with a Shiner Bock and a shot of tequila to smooth over the sharp edges of the old dented garbage can that made up my psyche. I needed to be numb, it helped to dampen the voices of my rage.

  Pills didn’t work. I didn’t like the way they made me feel. My shrink didn’t like me drinking so much, but it helped me to sleep.

  He walked in when I was about to order another Shiner Bock. What was his name?

  He didn’t see me, or I didn’t think he did, because he sat over in the corner. He sat alone, with notebook and pen in hand, as usual.

  I immediately switched to the hard stuff so I could get drunk quicker. I found it difficult to have sex while sober so I flirted with Johnny, Jack, and Jose.

  Finally, I left with pen-and-notebook guy. We had met before. When I say we met before, I mean that we fucked. He was a writer, which meant a hobo made more money than he did.

  My clothes slid off my body after he took his shirt off. He was not going to get a job as a model anytime soon, but his parts fit into mine nicely, and I found him sexy as hell.

  I was still drunk when I left him dehydrated, sore, and passed-out on a cum-stained bed in a roach motel.

  I held a cup of joe, gazing out of the bay window. The morning hurt my eyes with its beauty. No clouds in the sky, but the little person inside my TV told me to expect cold weather outside, like yesterday and the day before.

  I got online, checking on potential vacation spots. Warm spots like beaches in Mexico. I had wanted to take a vacation for the last year, but never found the time.

  I got tired of looking at the monitor and went back to the window. I surveyed the city under a big blanket of blue, cars moving along streets like colorful beetles padding down paths towards beetle business.

  People moving up and down the sidewalks, like ants on a mission only known to ants.