by Glenn, Roy
“Miles, no!” Rain yelled and we rushed at him.
“She was having my baby!” Miles yelled and put three shots in Jeff Ritchie’s chest and one to the head.
Miles let the gun drop to the floor and sat down in the chair next to Jeff Ritchie. Lakeda sat down next to him. She took his hand in hers and tears rolled down her cheeks. Doctors and nurses flooded into the room and tried to save Jeff Ritchie, but he was dead.
Miles didn’t offer any resistance when the police and hospital security arrived on the scene. Miles stood up and put his hands behind his back.
I stood there with Rain, watching as they took Miles away. Then she turned to me. “Something ain’t right about this.”
“What?”
“Come on.” Rain took me by the hand and we walked toward the intensive care unit. She told the attendant that I was her husband and they let me go in with her.
We went in JR’s room and Rain sat down next to him. She took his hand. “The police just took Miles to jail for killing Jeff Ritchie.”
“What?” JR said in barely a whisper. “Why?”
“Lakeda found out that Miles was having an affair. She said she told Jeff Ritchie and he sent the men that killed the woman.”
JR closed his eyes and turned away from Rain.
“But something ain’t right about her story. Lakeda wouldn’t talk to Jeff Ritchie about Miles having an affair. But she would talk you. Lakeda came to see you that night. That’s what happened, ain’t it, Daddy?”
JR didn’t answer, didn’t open his eyes; he just gripped Rain’s hand a little tighter.
“Jeff Ritchie would never do anything like that. He wouldn’t send men to kill her, not unless you told him to.”
Rain let go of her father’s hand and stood up.
JR opened his eyes.
“She was pregnant with Miles baby, Daddy. You killed your grandchild.”
When Rain walked out of the room, JR looked at me. I thought about what Black said.
If JR’s involved, kill him.
“You shouldn’t have hit her at our spot, JR.”
“Didn’t know it was your spot.”
“Guess not,” I said and walked out of the room.
Chapter 37
Mike Black
It took a couple of days for me think through what I was gonna do, and a week to put it all together. But I was almost ready to put my plan into action. There was just one more piece that I needed to put in place—the most important piece.
Kevon parked the car and we went in the building. We took the elevator up and Kevon knocked on the door.
“Who is it?”
I leaned in front of the peephole. “Mike Black.”
“Don’t go nowhere. I gotta put something on.”
“Don’t go to any trouble.”
“Maybe you should call first, boss,” Kevon said and leaned against the wall. I took the other wall and we waited.
Five minutes later the door opened. “Hello, Mr. Black,” CeCe said. I don’t know what she had on before, but now she looked radiant. Knowing my fondness for the color, CeCe was wearing a black dress and four-inch stilettos, her hair was done, and her make-up was flawless.
“I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”
“Not at all. I was just sitting around watching TV. Please come in,” CeCe said and extended her hand gracefully. I walked in and CeCe looked at Kevon. “He’s not coming in?”
“He’ll be right there if I need him.”
“I understand.” CeCe smiled and shut the door.
I followed her into the living room and she offered me a seat. “Nice place,” I said and sat down.
“Thank you,” CeCe said and sat down next to me. “It would be an understatement to say that I’m surprised to see you. I didn’t know you knew where I lived. But you did say that when you wanted me, you would find me.”
“Sorry I didn’t call first, but I needed to talk to you about somethin’ and I don’t like talkin’ on telephones.”
“I heard that about you. That’s why I haven’t blown-up Kevon’s phone.”
“I appreciate that.”
“So, what do I owe the honor of this visit?”
“I need you to do something very important for me.”
“You know I’ll do anything for you. Just tell me what you need?”
“I arranged for you to meet with a reporter from the Post.”
CeCe frowned. “For what?”
“I want you to give him a story.”
CeCe looked at me for a second or two and then she sat back. “This is about your wife, ain’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so.”
“What you know about my wife?”
“I know that she was murdered, and that they accused you of her murder. I know that finding her killers is the only thing that’s important to you.”
“You’ve been talkin’ to Bobby.”
CeCe smiled. “I know a lot more about her, but you don’t wanna hear all that.”
“Try me.”
“I know that you loved her very much.”
“I still do.”
“Is she what’s keeps you from letting me get close to you?”
I didn’t answer her because she was right. I won’t let anybody get close to me. I didn’t want to feel for any other woman what I felt for Cassandra. But there was something about CeCe.
“I guess that answers my question,” CeCe said and got up. She stood over me and shook her head.
I wanted to tell her how beautiful she looked standing over me like that, but I didn’t. I had to admit that her appeal to me is much more than physical. The thing was that I liked CeCe. Liked her look, liked her style, liked the way she handled herself.
CeCe stood there looking at me, and then she walked away. “I’ll do what you need me to do for you, but after I do it, there’s something I want you to do for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Do we have a deal?”
“You haven’t told me what you want.”
“Do we have a deal, Mr. Black?”
“Not until you tell me what you want.”
“Believe me, it’s nothing you can’t do.”
“Then why can’t you just tell me,” I laughed.
“Do we have a deal?” CeCe came and sat next to me again. “Look, you want me to do something for you. I want you to do something for me. Since you’re sitting here I know it’s something important to you, or you wouldn’t be here. Bottom line, you need me. When I’m done doing whatever it is that you need me to do for you, I need you to do something for me. So do we have a deal, Mr. Black?” CeCe said for the fourth time and extended her hand.
Once again, I knew that CeCe was right. I did need her and it was something that only she could do. I accepted her hand. “Deal.”
“Good. So what can I do for you?”
I stood up and extended my hand. “Come with me.”
“Where are we going, handsome?”
“To meet some people.”
We left CeCe’s apartment and Kevon drove us to Monika’s. Since she already knew about Cassandra’s murder I told CeCe that Vinnelli had arranged the murder, and that he was our target. When we arrived Monika opened the door and let us in. “CeCe, this is Monika Wynn and Travis Burns.”
“Hey,” Monika said half-heartedly.
Travis got up and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, CeCe.”
“Good to meet you both,” CeCe said and looked at Monika.
“Now that we’re all here.” I went and sat down next to CeCe. “I’ll tell you why we’re here and your part in it. I intend to destroy agent Vinnelli. Over the last few weeks Monika has been compiling information on Vinnelli that you’re gonna feed to the press.”
“Why me?”
“Because your past relationship with Steven ‘Cash Money’ Blake gives the story credibility. And it’s something that he can verify with the police.”
“What ab
out him?”
“Nothing really, but he connects to Mylo, or as you know him, the late agent Clint Harris. He connects to the late agent Masters.” Monika put a picture of Mylo and Masters in front of her. “And Masters connects to Vinnelli.”
“Okay,” CeCe said, but I knew it still wasn’t clear to her.
“You’re gonna tell the reporter about Mylo’s dealings with Cash. Then you’re gonna give him information about a meeting between Mylo and Masters discussing several murders, and taking over drug markets. Then you’ll give him the head man, Vinnelli, and information about his offshore accounts. That’s just the first part of the plan.”
I got up and stood by Travis. I looked at Monika. “How much is in those accounts?”
“Right now there’s $7, 562,753 in those accounts. It will be more allowing for interest-earned between now and when we make our move.”
“Thank you. Now, when that information becomes public, the government will freeze those accounts, but not before we take half of it.”
“Why just half?” CeCe asked.
“Because I want the government to have something to freeze. Monika, half is how much?”
“Roughly $3,781,376.”
“Which we split four ways. And that is?”
“That’s $945,345—each,” Monika added.
“Any questions?”
CeCe’s jaw dropped and we all laughed at her.
“Welcome to the big time,” Monika said to CeCe.
“You still want me to do something for you?” I asked, thinking that damn near a million dollars would be enough compensation for her part in my plan.
“Yes,” CeCe said definitely. “And a deal’s a deal. But I do have a question.”
“What’s that?”
“What if the reporter doesn’t believe me? I mean, that’s gonna be a lot to remember.”
“I’ll coach on what you need to say,” Monika assured CeCe. “And when you talk to him, you’ll be wearing a wire and an ear piece. Me and Black will be someplace close by listening and we’ll help keep you straight.”
“You in?”
“I already told you yes, and a deal’s a deals,” CeCe said.
“Travis. The money—”
“Like Black said, the money is in offshore accounts in different banks. So we can just roll in there and take it at gunpoint. In order for us to get it, I gotta access the network and get past a 128-bit encryption. Now accessing the secure cluster has to be done on a computer at a bank on the backbone of the network. I have a friend who works in investment and special services at a Bank in the Cayman Islands, which is part of the network.
“By placing a packet sniffer on a network I can capture and analyze all of the network traffic. Then I use a hydra which, for lack of a better definition, is a login cracker. I go in, pop the firewall, drop in the hydra and transfer the money into another account.”
The next morning Travis left for the Cayman Islands to wait for my call.
For the next two days, Monika and I drilled CeCe on what she would say to the reporter. By the end of the second day she was ready. I was impressed, but I knew I would be. There is much more to her appeal than the physical.
That night CeCe met the reporter at One if by Land, Two if by Sea, a restaurant on Barrow and West 4th Streets. Monika and I were seated at a table near the one where New York Post reporter James Fremeno waited for her to arrive.
After Monika did a sound check on the equipment, CeCe went in. “Mr. Fremeno?”
Fremeno sprang to his feet when he saw CeCe coming. “I’m Cameisha Collins. Sorry I’m late. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long?”
“Not at all, Ms. Collins. Please have a seat.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, tell me what I can do for you?”
“Well, a few months ago my boyfriend Steven was murdered in my apartment.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you know who did it?”
“DEA agents.”
“That’s a very serious accusation, Ms. Collins. Do you have any proof that it was the DEA?”
“Yes, I do. My boyfriend Steven was a drug dealer who went by the name Cash Money.”
“I understand.”
“Do you remember a couple of months ago a DEA agent was killed at a parking garage and a few days later, another agent was found dead at his house outside of Philadelphia?”
“Vaguely.”
CeCe took out the pictures we gave her and pushed them in front of Fremeno. “That’s them,” she said, and told Fremeno about the meeting. For the next half-hour, Fremeno took notes and sat fascinated by the story CeCe was telling to him.
When she was done with her story, CeCe made one request. “I know that you need to verify what I told you, but before you go to print with the story, I know you have to call the DEA to ask if they want to comment on the story.”
“That’s right. It’s more of a courtesy than a requirement, but yes. ”
“All I ask is that before you do that you call me.”
“I can do that,” Fremeno readily agreed.
It was two weeks later when CeCe got the call from Fremeno. As soon as she hung up with him, CeCe called Kevon and he handed the phone to me. “It’s on.”
“Thank you.” I hung and called Travis. “It’s on.”
The story hit the paper that next morning.
Chapter 38
I sat in my office at Cuisine that next morning and read the paper. Fremeno had written a very interesting article that took his readers step-by-step through Cash Money’s murder to Mylo and his meeting with Masters, and dropped the whole thing on Vinnelli, just the way I planned.
I looked at my watch. It was ten-thirty. If FedEx was as good as their word, Mrs. Vinnelli should have pictures of her husband with Eileen McManus, and details of their affair. Eileen McManus, on the other hand, should have pictures of Vinnelli with Pamela Connote. That by itself was enough to wreck his world, but it would be just the beginning.
Kevon came to the table with the phone in his hand. “It’s Travis.”
“Good morning, Travis. Tell me something positive.”
“I just left the bank with a check made out the way you asked, for three million, eight hundred thousand dollars.”
“Now that’s positive. Any problems?”
“None.”
“You take care of your people?”
“Yes, sir,” Travis said. I gave him a quarter of a million dollars to give his contact for her part in the plan. “I’m on my way to the airport now, so I’ll so you this afternoon.”
“Good man. I’ll have your money waiting for you when you get here.”
When Travis got back, I would have a million dollars in cash ready for him. I told Nick to find somebody else to baby-sit Jackie at the game. I could use Travis for other things on both sides of the house. Him and Monika were going to be very valuable people to have around.
When I hung up the phone Kevon came back in the office. “You never guess who is here to see you, boss.”
“Martin Marshall.”
Kevon looked at his watch. “More than an hour before you say he be here.”
“Show him in.”
A few minutes later Martin was shutting the door to my office. You know, for some reason, he didn’t look happy. He walked up to the desk and saw the paper.
“That your doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Martin. Have a seat. Can I get you a drink?”
“Whiskey.”
“How do you take it?” I asked and got up to fix us both a drink.
“In a glass.” Martin picked up the paper from my desk and started mumbling as he looked at it.
“Here you go, Martin.” I handed him his glass and sat down.
Martin dropped the paper on the desk and leaned forward. “Fremeno could have only gotten this stuff from you,” he said and pointed to the article. “When I gave you that name I thought you would just take his money and kill him, not g
o running to the press with it.” Martin sat back in his chair. “When they start digging into this, Vinnelli will flip on me if it comes down to it.”
“You’ll be all right, Martin. I hear you’re Teflon. Nothing sticks to you. And besides, Vinnelli is gonna be too busy with his own issues to even remember your name.”
“I’m running for congress, Black. He’s gonna remember my name.”
“Don’t comment on it, or make some bullshit statement supporting the integrity of the DEA. Ain’t that what you politicians do?”
“I don’t need you to tell me how to handle the press. The fact is that I trusted you, and you fucked me.”
“I didn’t fuck you Martin. If I wanted to fuck you, Martin, I would have given them this.” I picked up the remote and turned on the recording of Martin’s conversation with Diego Estaban.
When it was over, I handed him the Justice Department memo that Monika uncovered. “And I would have given them that.”
“Where did you get this?” Martin asked as he continued looking at the memo.
“Like you said, Martin, my people are very talented.” When Martin looked up, I had my gun pointed at him. “I should kill you right now, Martin. If for nothing else, for your part in Diego’s plan.”
“That was just business,” Martin said putting his hands up.
“That’s the only reason you’re still alive. I understand that it was just business. That—and the fact that we can do things for each other in the future. And put your hands down.” Martin put his hands down slowly. “I just needed for us to have an understanding.”
“What understanding is that?”
“That you don’t fuck with me.”
There was a knock at the door and Kevon stuck his head in. “Nick is here, boss.”
“I have meeting to go to, Martin,” I said and stood up. “So, if we’re done here . . .”
Martin stood up and I extended my hand. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with Vinnelli,” I said quietly and shook his hand.
After Martin left, Kevon drove me and Nick out to Yonkers to see Angelo. I had been putting him off for weeks. Now that this Vinnelli business was over, it was time to move forward.
When we got to the social club, I was surprised that Fat Jimmy didn’t meet us at the car, so I asked Angee when we got inside, “Where’s fat Jimmy? He sick or something?”
