The World in Reverse

by Latrivia Nelson

  Anticipation of what was to come drove her crazy. She waited for more men to come barreling through the door, even though she had only seen two before. Stilling her breath, gun pointed, heart pounding, sweat pouring, hair wet and nearly naked, she listened.

  Minutes passed.

  Still she waited in the same position, frozen into a protective stance.

  Finally, she heard the door. A shot at the doorknob left a gaping hole. He kicked the door open. A bottle flew into the bedroom and landed on the floor on fire. Then another flew in and landed on the bed setting it on fire. Then a third. Each one was thrown into different parts of the room to ensure that it burned from every side.

  On the opposite wall, hidden from view of the door, she pushed herself up in the corner and grabbed the picture from behind her of her son when he was a baby. Throwing it into the bathroom to make a noise and distract him, she crouched down.

  Wood crunched under the man’s heavy boot as he walked in, gun pointed aiming towards the bathroom. The flames had begun to consume the room. Immediately, he began to shoot everything but as he turned, Steele was waiting.

  Shooting him first in the stomach, she watched him as he pulled the trigger one last time, barely missing her head and leaving a hole in the wall only inches above her. She stood up, drywall in her hair, hands shaking and pointed the gun at him. Stepping out of the corner, she unloaded into his body - legs, arms and finally one final shot to the head.

  “I told you motherfucker. You can come in, but you can’t come out.”

  Leaving his bloody body to burn, she turned and ran out of the bedroom door as fast as her feet would take her to call for help.

  26

  As soon as word got back to Cane that not one but both attempts on Johnson and Steele’s lives had failed miserably, he immediately stopped managing the inventory of the supplies to begin manufacturing the drugs at the new warehouse and called Sammy into a private meeting. Cursing and spitting, he ordered the hit on Agosto to move from tomorrow after the hearing to tonight, knowing that the police would be on full alert and would more than tip the man off before he could get to him.

  “Do I have to do everything myself?” Cane screamed, hitting the desk. “What is so hard about shooting sitting ducks?”

  Sammy couldn’t answer. He wasn’t there. With this hands placed in front of him, he stood legs spread, waiting for an actual order.

  “That boy-loving bastard Ferris. Agosto could be dead right now and I could be on to the business of moving this shit, if I weren’t out cleaning up his fuck ups!” Cane rolled his neck and sat down in the chair behind his desk. “Okay, this is what I want you to do.” He looked up at Sammy, whose eyes were as red as his own from sheer exhaustion.

  “Take our best guys, get some guns and those cocktails and you kill Agosto tonight. Do you hear me?” He pointed his finger at Sammy. “Don't mess this up, Sammy. It’s one man, a pregnant woman and four kids. That’s not a tall order. Hell, I’d do it myself, but I’ve got shit to do here. And I don’t want any of this drive-by shit either, which I told Magnelli was a bad idea in the first place, and I don’t want two-hitter teams that will get clipped by some GI-Jane wanna-be. Get ten guys if that’s what it takes, but you get in that house and kill them all. I want bullets in the back of their skulls by daybreak. Am I clear?”

  Sammy didn’t flinch. “Crystal,” he said flatly.

  “Good, then get out of here and go do it,” Cane said, grabbing the whiskey bottle beside him on the desk. Pouring him a glass, he looked at the clock on the wall as Sammy walked out and closed the door behind him.

  ***

  Ivy wanted to tell Nicola about the interview, but when he came in from his unusually long run, the children were running wild, and she had to get dinner on the table. Wrapped up in that and the hundred calls that were coming in from her family, his family and their friends regarding his hearing the next day, she thought it would be better to break the news to him once the kids were put down for the night.

  However, quickly her plans changed when a promo from the station that she had just interviewed with ran a clip of her defending her husband’s innocence flashed across the television and drew Nicola’s attention as he walked past the media room. All the lights were off. The kids were upstairs. Ivy was listening to the radio while she cooked, singing along with Beyoncé like she didn’t have a care in the world.

  Hearing Ivy’s voice coming from the television, he stepped quietly into the room and stood in front of the television. There she was on screen, a perfect close up of his beautiful black wife declaring his innocence in their living room.

  “He’s innocent,” Ivy told the reporter. “And as far as him being a racist,” she paused, eyes watering. “Well, how do you explain us?”

  The promo ended telling viewers that the full interview would air tomorrow at five. Turning the television off, he went into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. She looked up from chopping green bell peppers on her favorite dark cherry cutting board and smiled innocently at him.

  Nicola smiled back but then turned up his bottom lip. “So, what did you do today while I was gone?” he asked, brow furrowed.

  Ivy stopped chopping and put down the knife. “I…” She looked up at him and swallowed hard. “I took care of a few outstanding things.”

  Nicola had to give it to her. She could find a way to lie without lying. Probing deeper, he shrugged. “What things? If you had told me that there was something that you needed done, I could have handled it for you. I know how hard the first trimester is for you. I don’t want you over exerting yourself.”

  Ivy’s shoulders dropped. “It was something that I felt that I needed to do,” she said, unsure if he knew or not.

  “What was it?” he asked, voice as soft as a whisper.

  Ivy cleared her throat. “I…um…I did an interview with a local station about the allegations against you.”

  “Why, Ivy?” Nicola asked, shaking his head. “I told you…”

  She cut him off. “I had to.”

  “You had to?” Nicola asked. His voice rose. “What did we just discuss?”

  Ivy snapped. Voice quivering, she tried to stand her ground. “We haven’t discussed anything, Nicola. You’ve been telling me what to do and how to do it, since this all happened. You never trust in me to know that I actually can help.” Her eyes watered.

  “How can you help me, when I don’t even know what you’re doing? You’re sneaking behind my back and talking about me not to your family or your friends but to the entire Mid-South. Yeah, that’s being a real team player.”

  “Okay, Mr. Team player. Where were you today?” she asked, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

  “I had a meeting,” he said, walking over to the refrigerator. Opening it, he pulled out a beer and twisted the top off.

  “So, it’s okay for you to go off and do whatever but for me, there is a different standard,” she said, eyes blazing.

  “How many times and in how many ways do I have to explain to you that it’s more important for me to keep you safe and out of the public eye then it is for me to worry about what people think who have never put food on my table, clothes on your backs or a roof over your head?”

  “Don’t even start with that shit,” Ivy countered. “I have helped put every dollar into our house.”

  Nicola pointed a finger at her and shook his head. There was no way that he was following her down that rabbit hole. “That’s not what I mean and you know it. You’re just avoiding the point.”

  She snapped back. “I am not avoiding the point!”

  “You are!”

  Ivy screamed as loud as she could at her husband. With all her frustration boiled down into heated words, she spat them at him like burning daggers. But Nicola caught them all, every single insult and turned them back on her. He was too angry to be civil at the moment. She had betrayed him, betrayed their family and his wishes even after he had told her how important it was to remain silent
.

  “How could you be so selfish?” he asked, voice raised. It echoed through the house. “I told you that I didn’t want to see you on the television or anything else until this was over, and what do you do? You give an exclusive!”

  “You don’t always know what is best, Nicola. I do know some things. And I know that someone needed to speak out about the accusations.” Tears ran down her eyes but she refused to back down.

  “And what difference would it make besides putting you in harm’s way?” he screamed back. He slammed his hands down on the counter and huffed. His wide back expanded. “Dammit, Ivy!”

  Across the room, Ivy crossed her arms. “It makes a world of difference, Nicola. That’s how PR battles are won.”

  Nicola laughed sardonically. “Is that what you think that this is about?” He turned his angry eyes on her. “This isn’t about a PR battle. This is about keeping you and my sons alive!”

  Ivy immediately protested his argument. “And what real threats have come of this? Huh? None.”

  Nicola put his hand over his head. “You don’t know how fucked we are because of that. There are people who want my head. But they’ll take yours instead. And now, you’ve given them a face to go with the name.”

  “And what makes you think that they don’t already know my face?” she asked.

  Nicola was done with this. “You had better not do one more damn interview with one more fucking reporter!” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  Ivy walked across the room and slapped him in the face. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that,” she said seething.

  There was complete silence suddenly and they stood looking at each other.

  The phone rang, drawing them out of their insanity.

  Nicola wiped the blood from his mouth and walked over to the cordless phone on the dock. It was his old friend Moss. Answering it, he rolled his eyes at her and walked out of the room. “Yeah,” he answered with a growl.

  “Agosto,” Moss said quickly. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” Agosto answered. “I guess. Ivy’s up my ass, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Why?” He figured that Moss must have seen the promo also.

  “There was a hit on Johnson and Steele, not even an hour ago. It went bad, thank God. But Carmen Magnelli got killed at Johnson’s house tonight. Shit is bad out here, man. You need to be careful. Lay low.”

  Agosto went into the bathroom in the downstairs hallway and closed the door. Locking it, he sat down on the toilet. “Why was Carmen Magnelli at Johnson’s house? She isn’t on this case?”

  “You’ll never believe this. She was dating Johnson. They were supposed to move in together tonight. A two-man team shot the house up, burned it down with Molotov cocktails and in the process, killed her.” Moss made sure to keep his voice low. Walking outside of his house, he closed the door and looked up at the stars. “It seems that it’s open season on anyone who is on this case. The way I see it, they could also be after you.”

  “With DeMario dead, it’s going to be hard to find out who’s responsible for this.” Agosto cradled his head in his hand. “Dammit, man.”

  “Look, if you need anything, you still have friends here…brothers in blue that you can count on.”

  Agosto appreciated that. “If I need you, I’ll call you. Just keep me informed man. I need to keep my ear to the ground.”

  “Will do. Keep a lookout over your family,” Moss said concerned.

  “I plan to,” Nicola said, standing up. “I’ll talk to you soon.” Hanging up the phone, he looked at himself in the mirror. Tired eyes, a beard and wild hair covered the face that he once knew. And the chaos of his life was ruining things with Ivy. He had to fix it.

  Nicola walked back into the kitchen were Ivy had turned on the television. “Baby?” he said, preparing to apologize.

  Ivy stood with tears in her eyes and her hand over her mouth.

  Nicola thought that it was because of his outburst. “Baby, look I’m sorry, okay. But we need to talk.”

  Ivy turned from the television and shook her head. “There’s been a shooting. A female officer was shot. They think it had something to do with the case.”

  Nicola sighed and looked at the television. “It was Deputy Director Magnelli’s daughter, Carmen Magnelli. I was reporting to him before I was pulled off the case and suspended.”

  “Do you think it’s all somehow connected?” Her eyes were wide with fear again.

  Nicola nodded. “I’m sure it is.”

  “Nicky, I’m sorry.” She wiped her face. “That could have been you. That could have been me.” Reality set in, and suddenly, she wasn’t sure that she had done the right thing.

  Nicola walked over and put his arms around Ivy’s trembling shoulders. “Now do you understand?” He lifted her chin and made her look at him. “I have to keep you safe.”

  She nodded with tears running down her cheeks. Burying her face in his chest, she held him tight. “I didn’t know, Nicky. I just didn’t know.”

  Nicola kissed her forehead and hugged her. “It’s all this pressure. It’s being locked in this house, and being robbed of our jobs and worrying about our children…” He kissed her again. “But it’s not us. It’s not us.”

  “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  Nicola looked at his watch. “Go upstairs and pack some clothes. I have to get you out of here.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?” she asked. “Where will we go?”

  “Tonight, I’m going to take you guys to your parents’ house. Tomorrow, I’m getting you out of the city. It’s best for you to go with the kids to Miami for a while. My folks will keep you safe there.” He closed his hands around hers. “You have to trust me.”

  ***

  Earlier that day, when Agosto had shown up at Dmitry’s compound asking for his help, Anatoly Medlov only knew one thing. He didn’t trust him. Agosto had been a thorn in his side for years and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand his father’s decision to help him. Still, his father was boss and what he said was the law. However, just because Anatoly didn’t immediately order one of his men to kill the man as soon as he was out of his father’s sight, he did send three of his best men to keep watch on Agosto at his home. The order specifically was to keep surveillance on the man until otherwise notified.

  Doing what they were ordered, three men from Dmitry’s camp sat quietly watching Agosto’s home in a black Land Rover. Hidden by the dark night and the huge oak trees that lined the street, they talked among themselves and casually passed around food and an Ipad.

  Suddenly, a suspicious black van pulled up on the opposite side of the street and parked, immediately triggering their interest.

  “Chto za huy. Who is that?” the driver, Marat, asked in a thick Russian accent. He had only been in the states for a little over a year now but had been handling business for Dmitry in Sochi, Russia for several years. His techniques were unorthodox but results-oriented, a thing that Dmitry found very useful in situations like this.

  “You’re asking me like I know,” Nestor, the man in the passenger seat answered. He also was Russian but had lived in the states for nearly a decade. However, no one could tell with his broken English. Pulling out his binoculars, he got a better view of the men inside the van. “Looks like fucking hitters to me. The man in the passenger seat just cocked a big fucking shot gun.” He put down his binoculars and looked over at his partner.

  “Shit, radio back to Boris, while I call back to the house and see what Boss wants us to do,” the driver said. Getting on the phone, he dialed on his cell phone quickly, while the other man got on the radio to the third man in their party, who was parked in a black BMW several houses away.

  ***

  The help was about to serve the second course of their five-course meal when Anatoly’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket. In the middle of the elaborate, authentic Russian dinner in his father’s formal dining hall, he expressed his frustration for being interrupt
ed. “What?” he growled into the receiver.

  The other guests immediately stopped talking and looked over at him.

  Marat wasted no time. “Boss, there are hitters here. It looks like they are about to pull down on Agosto. What do you want us to do? Watch or counter attack?”

  Clasping the phone between his ear and shoulder, Anatoly pushed away from his dinner with his family and his soon-to-be family. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said to his fiancée, sitting beside him giving him an evil eye. “I have to take this.” He gave a fake smile.

  In return, she gave him a sincere scowl that he ignored. Kissing the head of his newborn baby girl, cradled in his fiancée’s arms, he disappeared through the tall double doors of the dining hall and went out into the dimly lit hallway.

  But Dmitry, who was sitting at the head of the table, continued his entertaining conversation as if nothing had happened. He genuinely smiled as he explained the difference between Beluga and lower-quality caviar to his guests, while he sent a flirting wink at his wife at the other end of the table.

  As soon as Anatoly exited, on cue, Gabriel stood up from across the table, excusing himself from his girlfriend and followed him.

  “What’s the matter?” Gabriel asked, checking his cell phone. He had an unrelated message from Miami, telling him that an expected shipment had arrived without problems. He was glad to be able to report that back to Dmitry after dinner.

  Anatoly’s Russian accent was thick now as his frustration grew. “Someone is at the pig’s house to finish him off. The men want to know what I want to do,” he said, as if the decision was too difficult for him to make alone.

  Gabriel frowned and quickly responded. “Tell them to stop them.” He didn’t see what there was to grapple with.

  “Do we really want to?” Anatoly asked. He propped his foot up on the back of the wall and wished for a Menthol cigarette. He would much rather had been playing with his dogs out in the backyard or doing the hit himself instead of being bogged down with traditional wedding preparation. It only added to his growing annoyance.