by Gary Sapp
more concerned about how Christopher or Thomas Pepper would react with knowledge of just how far Pandora had gone to end this game of race and relations once and for all.
“Doctor, can you hear me?” Agent Tabitha Blue’s yelling in her ear brought Angel back from future difficulties back to the troubles of the here and now. “You’ve been so corporative and helpful in our investigation. We owe you. Is there anything that I can do for you right now? Are you alright?”
Angel heard the ambulance drive away. And when Agent Blue and her team had bagged up Joseph Champion’s remains and closed the door behind them she would be alone again. He had not been the only person who had been entrapped tonight.
She would be so very alone.
When Angel smiled at the younger woman she was sure that it couldn’t hide the sadness and the wanting for the company that only a bottle had ever provided her.
“Actually, no, Agent Blue, I’m not alright.” She said after the longest time. “But then I probably never have been.”
Roxanne
Four men dressed in black hoodies, khakis and sneakers met Roxanne Sanchez on the curb, verified her ID but still asked her wait outside Chris’ new gated residence on the city’s far Westside. The new Peacekeepers seem much like the ones of old. The last time Roxanne had been this close to a House in Chains military arm she had sprayed rounds of bullets into him fighting for right to live trying to escape Carver nearly a year ago. And if any of you gentlemen dare touch me…
A bald headed man, skeleton thin, who may have been ten years her elder, greeted Roxanne with a toothy smile, a firm handshake and an apology for her delay. The One—as Chris’ people referred to him as—had left instructions for her to be admitted as soon as she showed up on the property. The extra precautions had been his and his alone. A House in Chains had lost a significant number of their governing body in the suicide at the mansion in the fall, but the organization had not been crippled as much as the world had been led to believe. Hundreds of Board and Committee members had been either promoted or reassigned. The man who greeted her finally said that the nature of her relationship with the One wasn’t his business, but if she would indulge their over protectiveness of a House in Chains leader for a small while longer—
He walked her in. Where Chris had chosen to become the new regional headquarters of his organization was quite impressive. The architecture matched the bricked layouts of the nearby buildings including a church on the corner. What caught Roxanne’s eye specifically were the nuances that had Chris’ imprint completely. Next to the American flag were posts of the new banner of a House in Chains that whipped about on this spring day in March. There were busts of great black leaders: Martin Luther King Jr., Malcom X, Isaac Prince and Xavier Prince sat there together side by side. Just above those bust was a larger one of the former President of the United States Adolphus Sweet.
She found his father’s mandates lining the sidewalk passage to the front door. All of his sayings and recollections as well as some of those from Xavier were embedded in the concrete as well. Just above the door was a plaque that showcased highlights from Chris’ speech from the courtyard of Georgia’s State Capital back around November, almost six months ago now.
She finally met Chris inside. He looked up and saw her. He dismissed an underling by patting the smaller man on the shoulder.
“Roxanne,” He said by way of greeting. And for the second time within a year his surprise at seeing her in his presence warmed her heart.
“Hi, Chris,” He hugged her fiercely. “Wow. You look good.”
And he did. He looked as if he had lost an additional ten pounds or so in addition to the 20 that he had already disposed of in the fall. This morning Chris looked as if he’d stepped out of the shower minutes ago after another long intense workout.
Chris showed her to a nearby couch which she found both soft and firm enough for her liking. He had begun drawing again. Roxanne noted that most of the portraits were those of his immediate family. The one woman that she didn’t immediately recognize was probably his mother. Roxanne’s investigative instincts noted to herself that every picture of Isaac Prince had a drawing of this woman next to it. Although Roxanne had never met either one she could knew for a fact that Xavier’s rendition was spot on. And the woman’s portrait next to his brother had to be none other than a House in Chains intelligence officer Grace Edwards.
Chris had done two new drawings of the first love of his life Hoshi Givens as well—and bless his heart he had honored the memories of his dead ex-wife and step daughter Denise Prince and Erica Lovings. Every detail, especially the women’s facial features were so dead on that it gave Roxanne Sanchez pause. She nearly teared up when she glanced at the portraits a second time.
“Where have you been, Roxanne?” He finally asked her as she could feel him sitting next to her. “I respected you’re your request for some time away. You told me that you would contact me when you were ready and for me to wait until you did. I can understand that you needed to tie up some loose ends in your personal life.” She heard the sadness in his voice. “I expected you to be gone maybe a couple of weeks, or maybe a month or so at most, but not six months.”
Does that mean that you’ve moved on, my love? And to be perfectly honest, that had not been a contingency she had considered. And yes, she did not say aloud, she had indeed tie up some loose ends in both her personal life with her mother about the death of her sister Maria …and an unexpected professional matter—a debt that could not go unpaid—and the cost associated with it that she would not soon forget.
But none of that is what kept her away for this long.
“I wasn’t going to rest until Joseph Champion was either in custody or dead.” She said.
Chris nodded in understanding.
“You’ve been working underneath Special Agent Tabitha Blue on Sheridan’s team.”
“I’ve served more in a consultant capacity. Your former boss wants to keep me in a more unofficial capacity. He said that he had his reasons.”
“So Joseph Champion was responsible for the shooting of the president.”
I don’t think that’s the case, My Love. Yet, no one, involved would answer that question, at least to her satisfaction.
And now comes the most difficult part. Roxanne was unsure how much Chris and his people knew about Joseph Champion and his renegade band of Pandora. Once again Roxanne’s investigative instincts warned her that there was even more to what Blue’s people had discovered than they were telling even her.
“Yes, Champion was responsible for Sweet’s death in some shape manner or form and paid for the crime with his own life. Your girl, Angel, gutted him up in the mountains Thanksgiving Weekend, but I’m sure you know that already.”
“I do.”
Roxanne had lived with and around the Dupree’s almost night and day for six months. And yet, she was taking care of that other professional matter when that thing went down at the mountain retreat, even though the whole idea of luring Champion with the sudden vacation was her idea in the first place.
“I just want you to know that I’m back, Chris.”
“I missed you as well, Roxanne.” Chris held her hand in his.
“And I missed you, Chris.”
He put his forehead on hers but they did not kiss and for that she was thankful. There was something unpleasant about his breath—about the scent reeking from his pores that wasn’t there before she left.
“I needed the time to clear my head as well, Chris. I wasn’t sure where I belonged or where I was going next.” She stared into his eyes. “I wanted to be sure that we could go further or not.”
“Well, you’re here, now, Roxanne. You’ve obviously come to some type of decision.”
“I have.”
After Roxanne narrated her conclusions about her mother and her sister Chris said, “I understand the pressures of family, Roxanne. If anyone knows about the legacy and all that comes with the responsibility of it then it’s me.”
She nodded.
“What you don’t know is that you’ve saved me, Chris.”
“Look, Roxanne,” He shook to his head and got to his feet. “We talked about what happened to you down in Mexico before—“
“Then you understand that I would have killed those girls…that I would have done anything to make sure that they didn’t return to that cartel family and the hell that would have faced if they had lived afterwards.”
“Yea,” Chris said ever cautiously. “Yea, I guess that I do.”
“No, Chris,” She corrected him in a soft tone. “The answer is actually no. Only a monster would understand what I did that day down in Mexico. But then this here is a monster’s ball.”
“Maybe,”
“Only a monster would have bitched about the way that the FBI conducted its business concerning a perceived entrapment of my sister and then aided and abetted them in rounding up and killing Joseph Champion in the same manner.”
“Maybe,”
“And maybe, just maybe, it takes a monster to kill another monster.” She said and then paused long enough to make sure she had his attention before she spoke again. “One monster tosses a coin up, catches it and tosses it again in the hope that somewhere—someday the opportunity presents itself that he can truly apprehend the thing that the coin represents.”
“Maybe,” Chris rubbed at his dark jaw, but said nothing else so she continued.
“One
