by James H Roby
“Make that tea. Earl Grey. You do have it?”
“Yes, sir.”
It only took a few minutes for the waitress to return with the tea. Jordan doctored it up with honey but forgone the traditional lemon. It flowed warm into him and it felt like coming home.
“Oh, yeah.”
A voice crackled in his ear. “Jordan? You read?”
He checked around and no one was looking his way. “I got you, E. What’s up?”
“The laser mic is up. Getting some background conversation.”
“Random?”
“Could be. Can’t really tell. Room’s all echo-y.” E-Man paused. Jordan was about to ask if he was still there, when he came back on line. “Two more people just rolled up. I think you’ll be real interested in who. You should see them now.”
Jordan almost came to his feet. Agents Stiles and Thomas entered his line of sight for just a moment as they walked from the rear of the building and into a side door.
“What the fuck, over?”
“Yeah,” E-Man said, “I’m gonna give you that one.”
Jordan heard the quip but his mind was somewhere else. Or, more correctly on someone else. Robin had concluded the powerful entity barring Random’s revenge was none other than the CIA. These CIA agents to be precise. He was a mind to agree with her. If Stiles and Thomas were in on it, was a part, or worse, the guiding force behind this whole mess, they’re being here could put an end to any chance of ending this affair with the authorities. A pair of CIA agents trumped the guesses and theories of a private detective agency. He bit his knuckle. They could be in there, right now, with a suitcase of money or some other cliché, laughing manically like super villains. Or it could be a shootout between the CIA spooks, Random and whoever the fat guy, nerd and suits were. He wanted to know. He needed to know.
The waitress appeared from nowhere. Jordan jumped at her voice.
“Is there anything I can get for you, sir?”
Jordan stared dumbly at her. In his ear, E-Man spoke.
“Go on up. I got your back.”
~
“I think I’ve something of an idea what’s happening,” Jordan said, “Maybe you can fill in the blanks.”
Jordan exited the stairwell adjacent to the elevators Stiles and Thomas came. His P7M trained on Random’s head. He kept an eye on Thomas just the same. The young agent no longer looked like the rookie who walked into Jordan’s office days ago. His face was dark and twisted now, an extension of his soul. Cold bloodied murder will do that to a person.
“So how about it, Cody” Jordan asked, “What’s the story?”
Random was cool on the surface, but Jordan knew better. The slight tremor below his eye told the tale of a cauldron of emotions - shock, rage, and confusion. He didn’t want to, but Jordan felt a warm glow.
“Can’t figure how I got here, huh?” Jordan asked.
Random rocked his head – unbeckoned admiration. “Oh, you’ve cease to amaze me. I know you’re full of surprises. Didn’t you just last night do the unexpected and rescue Robin Summers? Yes, you have a knack of doing exactly what you’re not supposed to.” He nodded and Jordan returned the gesture. A few trying second slipped by and Random smiled and chuckled. “Ah, Major Noble, so good to see you.”
“Can that ‘Major’ crap,” Jordan said, “That’s the past, get over it.” He turned to Thomas. “I half-expected Stiles to be involved in all this - not you.”
Thomas snorted a laugh. He dropped his weapon. “You underestimated him and me. Stiles was a big boy scout. He was all about the ‘good of the nation’.” Thomas spat out the last part.
“So, what you in it for?” Jordan asked.
“The money, man. The money.” He rotated toward Jordan and the two men were face-to-face. “See, when I was partnered with Stiles, I reviewed his cases. Standard procedures. I came across Cody Random and his crush and I saw the money-making potential. Crush could make me rich. But Stiles would have none of that.”
Random spoke and Jordan switched his eyes to him, “You see, Mister Noble, our young Agent Thomas had vision. A vision that Stiles lacked. Stiles was no doubt happy to allow me to rot in the prison you put me in -”
“You put yourself in,” Jordan corrected.
“Just so.” Random made a short, mocking bow. “To continue, Thomas saw that a great opportunity was to be had. So, he contacted me in prison and offered a deal – my freedom for the crush.”
“Only, Random didn’t come so cheap,” Thomas said. Jordan knew what they were doing. They were trying to divide his attention. Hoping for an opening someone could take advantage of – Random, Thomas, one of the guards, anyone. A chance to take out Jordan. Everyone in the room was getting edgy looking for a break. Jordan took aim and fired in the general direction of Pagani’s bodyguard. The shot got everyone’s attention and froze the criminals in their places.
Jordan smiled. “Sorry, please go on.”
The sudden discharge of the firearm made Thomas pause, so Random took over the narration. “In order for me to work with Agent Thomas, there were some things I needed, namely you. I wanted you dead.” Random paused for effect. Jordan’s expression remained flat. “I needed to get to Detroit, since you were there. And I needed someone who could get in contact with a buyer for my crush. But someone small, pun intended, to avoid attention.”
“Kevin Small,” Jordan said. He turned to Thomas. “And what, you provided this name because of his connection to Robin.”
Thomas’s lips curled. “CIA’s got a file on you. It was easy.”
“Exactly. I was introduced to Mr. Pagani’s organization through the now deceased Mr. Small, thanks to you.” At the last part, Random turned to a black guy in a clownish blue suit. He swelled his chest in a display of anger. Jordan ignored the reaction, sure that it was some kind of head game by Random.
“Pagani and his friend, the good Mr. Leone, here, were willing to assist me after a display of good faith.” Random broke into an evil smile, “To that end, I eliminated a…competitor of his, Donald K. Warrington.”
Jordan sighed. The pieces were sliding together.
“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Pagani said, “I want to talk to my lawyer.”
“Shut up!” Jordan shouted.
Thomas said, “It was a good deal. Kevin Small got to be the big shot he always wanted to be, Pagani’s bunch got a hot new product and one less competitor, Random got to get out and kill you and me – I get rich.”
Jordan snapped his head in Thomas’s direction. “At what cost! Do you know who’s going to get the first shot at ‘cheap drugs’? Us! Black folks, like you and me! You idiot, you sold out your own people!”
Thomas rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Spare me the Martin Luther King bit. My own kind? I’ve got nothing to do with people who do drugs, white, black, yellow – whatever! Do you know what I had to do to get where I am in the CIA? Harvard! Four years of law school! A spotless record! I earned it, dammit. Not because I was black, but because I earned it!!”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”
Thomas shook his head. He took a step forward, but Jordan convinced him to select another course of action by making his aim a little straighter.
“I was nothing to them,” Thomas said. “Nothing I did was ever enough. I knew then that only way to be somebody…to be powerful, was to be rich. By any means. Normal guy commits a crime and gets caught, he’s going down. Fortune 500 CEO can rip off the company for millions, screw people out of jobs, rape the prom queen and no one even bats an eye. You know why? Money! I saw crush, and I knew it would make me rich. I saw my chance and I took it!” Thomas breathed hard. He was committed to his ideas. Every word he said was pure gospel to him.
Jordan scoffed. “You were with the CIA for less than a year. What did you expect from them, to make you the director? Damn! I’m so sick of you goddamned ‘Negroes’ w
ho think their shit don’t stink! You went to Harvard and you think everyone owes you something. You got to pay your dues just like everyone else. It’s called life, boy! Deal with it. You think you the first brother to get screwed over. Remind me to tell you about Minot sometime.”
Thomas trembled as Jordan railed. He moved in a tight circle where he stood. Finally, the frustration found an outlet. “Fuck you!”
Jordan nearly jumped out of his skin he was so angry. He focused on the fallen government agent. “Fuck me? Fuck me! You stupid son of a bitch! I got a good mind to cap your worthless ass right now!”
“I don’t think so,” Random said softly.
Jordan felt as though he had been ripped from a dream. He had, for a moment, truly forgotten about Random and the rest. He immediately paid for that error in judgment. He felt the pressure of a gun barrel on the back of his head. The P7M clanged as it struck the ground. Jordan raised his hands over his head as he turned to face who had gotten the drop on him. His eyes went to slits as he tried to place the face.
“You’re that…guy,” Jordan said. “In the apartment in Miami.”
Sure enough, it was the same Latino man who had been with Cody Random down in Miami four years ago. The one who almost got the jump on him and E-Man as they breached the door. Jordan turned back to Random. He had a befuddled expression. Random shrugged.
“You’re not the only one who rewards loyalty,” Random said, “Good help is hard to find and well, he’s not good but cheap. Isn’t that right, Pete?”
Pete said, “Yes, thank you very much.”
“The extent of his English,” Random said.
Thomas retrieved his fallen weapon and approached Jordan. He aimed at the detective’s head.
“Not so fast,” Random said, “I get to kill Jordan Noble. A deal’s a deal.”
Thomas trembled with anger. He contained the hatred he built from the conversation with Jordan. He looked like he was of a mind to forget the deal with Random and shoot Jordan anyway. Instead, he calmed himself slightly and moved his aim from Jordan’s head to his leg.
“Is it OK if I just wound him a little?” Thomas asked.
“I don’t see why not.”
Thomas smiled at that. He gripped his gun with both hands and shook with anticipation. He stared hard but got no response from Jordan. He had gone from anger to almost pity for the former CIA agent. He shook his head.
“What are you shaking your head about?”
“You just don’t get it,” Jordan said. “You had the world in your hand, and you’re throwing it away for this stupid scheme. I feel sorry for you.”
“Sorry for me?” Thomas rocked his head back and laughed. “I’m not the one about to get shot!”
“Sure, you are,” Jordan said. “Shoot this bitch, E.”
Confusion played on Thomas’s face. Before he could figure out what Jordan was going on about, a section of the large window exploded. A bullet smashed its way through Thomas’s shoulder, spinning him like a top before he collapsed to the floor. He lay on the floor, crying like a baby. Anarchy burst loose with the gunshot. Jordan took advantage of the mayhem and whirled around, pushing Pete’s gun away with his right hand while delivering a blow to the face with his left. Pete dropped like a stone. Jordan went for his gun, executing a tuck and roll just as gunfire broke out. Random and the three disposables began firing above and around the lab table to get at Jordan. Leone screamed like a girl. Pagani’s bodyguards produced their weapons. Jordan was just about to chastise E-Man for not providing more cover fire, when a second shot crashed through the window and disintegrated the kneecap of the man in the cartoonish suit. The man went down with a scream. He would be unconscious from the pain in seconds. E-Man was across the street at least a distance of two hundred yards. His equipment, none other than the PSG-1 sniper rifle. He must have been at the upper limit of his effective range as E-Man missed with his third shot. It did, however, lead to mass scrambling. Pagani and his two men headed for the elevators that brought them up. Leone was already there, stabbing the call button. The doors creaked open just as another round smashed through the window. This one destroyed the equipment uncovered among the banks of similar setups. Random and his crew were in mid scramble for the elevator. The sound of breaking equipment froze Random in his spot. Jordan planted himself at the end of the first row of work benches. His current angle provided no clear line of sight on Random.
“You got ‘em, E?”
“Nope,” E-Man said. “Bad angle here.”
Jordan spat out a curse. He looked over at the downed men. Thomas was still rolling around, grabbing his blood soaked shoulder. Pete and the other guy were flat on their back, out of this fight. Jordan figured it was safe to advance. Gun ahead of him, Jordan marched on Random.
“Cody!” The guy call Slash shouted. “Let’s go!”
Random looked like he was preparing to go back to the spot on the lab table E-Man shot. It must have been his crush sample. He got eyes on Jordan and his gun and thought better of it. He and his men continued on course for the elevators. Jordan was glad to see no honor among thieves as the elevator doors closed before the fat face of Pagani.
“No! Wait!” Slash said. His words didn’t make the door open.
“The stairs!” one of the guys in a duster said. Slash altered his path and the hit bar of the door, slamming it open. Jordan paused to line up a shot. The irons of his sight were square on Random’s back. The trigger squeeze was denied as the third man in a duster fired his own shots. The bullet pierced beakers and microscopes but not detectives. Jordan changed his aim to his right and focused fire on the gunman two rows away. They both retreated away from the elevators, sending bullets at each other. At the far side of the room, the work benches came to an end. Jordan ducked down to reassess. He popped his head around the edge of the bench just in time to be tackled by Duster Guy. He had Jordan by a least twenty pounds and the force of the impact sent both men to the wall. Jordan expected to violently collide with a brick wall instead felt a door bar hit him in the lower back.
“Jordan!” E-Man shouted, “I’ve lost sight of you!”
Jordan tumbled with his opponent down a few stairs, bouncing hard on the old building’s wooden steps. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a calm voice. “I got this.”
~
The lobby came into view as the elevator doors split. A couple of shops were here, but the lobby entrances were blocked. Pictures displaying a computer generated image of what the future plan lay ahead for the building barred the way to the businesses of old. The windows were covered with thick construction paper in preparation for construction. Pagani moved to get off but his left bodyguard held out his arm. The right guard tried to stop Leone, but the man of science was too panicky to be restrained. Leone’s footfalls slapped across the gray tile floor sending echoes through the lobby. He reached the northern doors, the same they had entered from. At this point he noticed he was alone. He turned back to the elevators. The others lingered behind.
“What are you hanging back for?” Leone’s voice rose to the point of breaking. “You got the gun!”
The bodyguards lumbered forward. One in front of Pagani, the other bringing up the rear. The first guard pushed pass Leone with a grunt. He drew his weapon, a semi-automatic pistol. A quick look to his counterpart who nodded he was ready. The first guard pushed opened the door. Adams Street and the park beyond burst forth in brilliant color under the afternoon sun. Parked just pass the door and before the green of the park, the Benz awaited their arrival. Leone pushed forward. He worked the passenger rear handle with little success.
“Come on!” he shouted back. Pagani and his guards were exiting now. He rocked his head, the downed corner of his lips expressed his disappointment better than any words.
One of the guard produced the key fob but before he could unlock the doors, a red Ford F-150 screeched to a halt, its bumper inches from the driver’s door. With practiced p
recision, the guards came forward between their charge and the threat, hands filled with pistols. But for naught. Three Detroit Police cruisers appeared - one sliding in eastward from Woodward while the other two from Adams’ western end. The officers opened doors and drew down on the four men exiting the building. The bodyguards dropped their weapons and sent their hands skyward. Pagani spat out a stream of curses and Leone just dropped to his knees crying. Two Black men got out of the Ford. They stayed back and didn’t interfere as Detroit’s Finest did their sworn duty.
The shortest one wearing glasses did, however, point at Pagani and shouted, “You have a lot to answer for the systematic poisoning of my people!”
