Black 01 - Black Rain Page 13

  Our objective is to gather information, Joe. That means you can’t kill anyone and we’re to let these guys get away.”

  He frowns at me. “Agent James told me how people have a tendency to come up dead around you.”

  I start to become irritated that Agent James would bring up incidents beyond my control. Yes, I’ve killed bad guys that tried to kill me, but I was cleared on all my shots and I’ve never been disciplined for anything on the force.

  “Oh, and did he mention that I wasn’t the first one to fire a shot?”

  Little Tiny shakes his head and his jowls flop back and forth. “Naw, he didn’t mention that. Just remember, I’m on your side and I don’t want to come up dead, all right? There are five of Cattanno’s men in the suite.”

  I have to remember to express my concern with Agent James about bad-mouthing me. I’m a good cop and a great shot, if a person is trying to kill me, I’ll kill them first. It’s just good practice when you are trying to stay alive for your family.

  “I’ll take two and you get the other three.”

  I scratch my head and do the math. “Damn, Little Tiny. You big as hell and all you can take are two?”

  He winks at me. “I told you I just got done working out, dude. Work with me. If I see you getting your ass kicked, I’ll pick up your slack. Damn, Agent James said you’d be difficult to work with.”

  I bite my bottom lip; I am getting pissed at this point.

  152

  Black Rain

  “You know what? You and Agent James can kiss my black ass. I do my job and I do it well. That’s why he has me here on this case. And if you could ever get your lips off Agent James’s ass, you could see that, with your Tiny Tim whining ass.”

  Little Tiny starts turning red, takes out his keys, inserts them in the elevator and pushes the stop button. His frown on his brow shows that I pushed the right buttons and got him mad. “My name is Little Tiny and not Tiny Tim. I don’t play the ukulele and I don’t sing.”

  I step toward him to show that in spite of his size, he doesn’t scare me. “Well, stop all that whining like a little bitch and man-up. I didn’t come here for you to lecture me on how to do my job,” I explain.

  “Man-up? Dude, you see all this three hundred and twenty pounds? I can whip your ass, eat a sandwich and have dessert all at the same time. Don’t underestimate me because of my size and my boyish looks. I kick plenty of ass. So, don’t get it twisted. I had to prove myself all the time at the academy and I don’t mind giving one more lesson, Detective.”

  Little Tiny has taken a step toward me and is now up in my face. “Dude,” I say, “you need to save the tough-guy act for them guys upstairs and get this elevator started, ’cause I’m about two minutes off your ass. I don’t care about your size. I just need to know that you can handle your job. This situation is about saving Chase and right about now, you starting to impede on my time and completing this mission. So if you don’t mind, get the fuck out of my face, start this elevator and let’s get to the business at hand. You can play that gorilla shit on the guys up in the room, okay?”

  Vincent Alexandria

  153

  Little Tiny eyes me as he turns the key and the elevator continues toward the eighteenth floor. “Yeah, all right, but you better recognize, you just missed getting dusted, so thank God before you go to sleep. I was about to put this white thunder on your ass,” he says raising his two fists.

  “Yeah, right, whatever. White thunder.” I roll my eyes.

  The elevator stops on the eighteenth floor and Little Tiny grabs both bags. “After you, Mr. Tough Guy.”

  I shake my head and begin to laugh at this comical giant. “Whatever!”

  As we walk down the corridor and get closer to the door of suite 1812, Little Tiny sets the bags down and cracks his knuckles, and I stretch my neck from side to side.

  He whispers, “You ready, man? Remember—don’t kill nobody, especially not me.”

  “What if they’re trying to kill us?” I whisper back.

  “They’re just sent to scare you and see what you’re made of. Nobody’s gonna need a body bag tonight. You just remember you got three and I got two. Just remember that, Joe. You’re no use to Dread if you’re dead.

  Word is that he wants to recruit you to the bad side of the department.”

  “Man, just open the damn door and let’s get this over with, ’cause you’re starting to get on my nerve with this I-got-two shit.”

  “Now, don’t be getting all sentimental and emotional on me. Calm your ass down. We’re on the same team.

  Me and the thunder got your back. Agent James said you were all touchy and stuff.”

  “You and Agent James can go to hell. Just open the door, fool.”

  154

  Black Rain

  “Why I got to be a fool though, partna?” Little Tiny complains as he inserts the key in the door and opens it.

  We each grab a bag and enter the dark room. I switch on the hallway light, and just as Little Tiny said, the men are in different parts of the suite. One is at the bar drinking out of a miniature bottle of Scotch, two stand in the living room, another is seated on the couch and one walks out of the bathroom zipping up his pants. Little Tiny and I are quickly surrounded.

  My mind is moving fast and I think to try and buy some time until Vernon shows up to even the odds a little. I’m also hoping Mo-Mo and Sweet St. Louis will get here before anything gets physical.

  “Oh, excuse us, we must have the wrong room,” I state, but me and my FBI friend are quickly accosted from both sides.

  The biggest of the men, probably the leader, walks up to me. He is a muscular white guy and looks quite menacing. “Detective Johnson, why are you here?”

  I try to remain calm and cool, sizing up this man in case I have to take him down.

  “How do you know my name and who are you?”

  Before I can get another word out, my interrogator slaps me across the face hard. I’m starting to get pissed.

  I look at him with a serious gaze.

  “Hey, there’s no need for that,” Little Tiny says.

  “Let’s just all be cool. I can get some sandwiches on the house and have them sent up, and I’m sure we can work this room mix-up out like gentlemen.”

  Little Tiny is quickly punched in the stomach, which doubles him over. “Dude, I just worked out. Damn, that hurt,” he says, grimacing in pain.

  Vincent Alexandria

  155

  “You fools need to start answering some questions,”

  the big white guy orders.

  I speak up to buy Little Tiny some time to recover.

  “I’m here to hook up with some guy named Orlando Cattanno. I heard he has a way of making a cop some extra money. I love money and nice things, so I thought I’d come down and make his acquaintance.”

  “Well, we heard you’ve come to take Dread down and that’s not likely to happen,” the muscle-bound man states as he takes brass knuckles out of his pocket and places them on his huge hand.

  Little Tiny and I look at each other; neither one of us were expecting this.

  “Aw, hell, naw, what you need them for? Dude, I don’t even know this cat. I was just bringing up his luggage. Man, y’all don’t even have to tip me or nothing.

  I got a very short memory, and this ain’t none of my business anyway,” Little Tiny whines, looking at me and winking, then giving a sorrowful gaze for mercy at his assailant.

  “Shut up, fool!” he barks at Little Tiny.

  He turns his attention to me and my patience is getting very thin.

  “Detective, you got one more chance to answer my question or I’m going to turn your face into hamburger,”

  the big guy demands.

  His henchmen grab me and my FBI friend and hold our hands behind our backs.

  “Look, dude, I don’t want anybody to get hurt. I’m just looking to score a little cash on the down low and be on my way. You don’t need to be punching
people around.

  We know you a bad ass and all that. I have to tell you, if 156

  Black Rain

  you hit me with them brass knuckles, I’m going to kick the shit out of you and you can believe that.”

  The big guy bursts out laughing and all his men fall in doing the same. I just look at him, then at Little Tiny to let him know I’m not about to let this go too much further.

  Little Tiny squirms from under the goons holding him, like he’s trying to get to me.

  “Man, why’d you have to say that stuff? You’re starting trouble, man.”

  “That’s the first smart thing you’ve said all day, fat man,” the big guy states.

  Little Tiny’s face contorts like he just tasted something sour, and he stares at the rude man, showing that he didn’t appreciate that last remark.

  “Hey, fella, I don’t like being called fat. I’m working out, okay? Why are you tryin’ to put me down? You fucking asshole!”

  The big guy walks up to him and pushes his finger into Little Tiny’s bulging belly. “Well, that workout mess isn’t working for your fat ass,” he says.

  Little Tiny lunges for him, but is restrained by the men holding him. Hit in the face with the brass knuckles, he falls to his knees in pain. His round face is quickly swelling and turning red from the blow.

  I tense up. “Leave him alone, asshole!” I am hit across the jaw, as well. My head rings and it feels like the right side of my face is burning. I kick one of the guys holding me on the outside of his knee, making his leg buckle beneath him. He falls in excruciating pain. I head-butt the other man holding me, breaking his nose.

  I elbow the big white guy in the face, after blocking one of his punches. He falls back as I lunge on top of him, Vincent Alexandria

  157

  not giving him time to react. I commence punching him in the face.

  Little Tiny has pushed one of his aggressors into the wall and has the other man by the nuts when Vernon walks in eating barbecued pork skins.

  “What the fuck?” He drops the pork skins and bags from the store and pulls his gun.

  “Stand down!” Vernon demands.

  I get up, throw a perfect punch and start kicking the hell out of the big white guy who has fallen to the floor.

  “So, Mr. Brass Knuckles, you like hitting people, huh, asshole?” I stomp the guy in the ribs and shoulders.

  “Joe, that’s enough!” Vernon orders. “Everybody sit down over there on that couch!”

  I go to Little Tiny as Vernon collects the guns and identifications from our assailants. We look at their IDs.

  All of them are cops.

  “You all right, big man? You really scared me with all that white thunder you were bringing,” I tease as Little Tiny’s jaw bulges.

  “Yeah, I’m cool, and this isn’t funny. Where’re those brass knuckles?”

  Vernon throws them to him. Tiny walks up to our interrogator and whips him one across the face. “I just wanted you to see how this shit felt. That’s some white thunder for your ass. Where’s the refrigerator? I need to put some ice on my face.” Little Tiny looks around the room, holding his swollen jaw.

  “Yeah, I heard that. Get me some, too,” I say.

  I go to the table and look at the men’s identifications.

  The big guy that smacked us around is Lieutenant Rick

  “Brutus” Tucker. The other men are Officers Ronnell 158

  Black Rain

  Jenkins, Stanley Turner, Adam Fletcher and Christopher Hunter.

  “You guys are pathetic. An officer of the law is never to give up his badge or gun and I have both. What will your boss think of that?” I ask as all the men except for Lieutenant Brutus Tucker glance sideways, agitated.

  “Shit happens,” he replies with a smirk.

  I turn to him. “So, Brutus, you need a little ice on that jaw, bro?” I tease.

  “Fuck you, asshole! I’ll finish the job next time.”

  I backhand him on the swollen side of his face and he grimaces. “Oh, did that hurt? I think you need to learn a little respect, Mr. Man. So let me see if I can assess this situation. You’re Cattanno’s flunky, right? Probably his poor excuse for a right-hand man?” Tiny hands me some ice wrapped in a towel and I put it to my face.

  “I slapped you pretty good, huh, punk?” Brutus asks, smiling.

  I backhand Brutus across the face again for good measure. “Yes, you did, but not as good as I slapped your stupid ass. Now, as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted, Cattanno sent you here to find out if I was legit. Well, yes, I am legit. I’m one bad motherfucker, and to prove it, I got all of you sitting here like little bitches. I got no beef with you guys. I’m just trying to score some extra cash. Y’all tell Cattanno that when you get back, and if he wants your badges and guns, he needs to come to me himself to get them. I got a feeling that he ain’t gonna be too happy when he sees y’all. You sorry excuses for cops can go.”

  “Hold up, Joe. At least shoot them in the ass, the foot, something. You gonna just let them waltz out of Vincent Alexandria

  159

  here?” Little Tiny asks, pacing the floor and turning red from anger.

  I push Little Tiny back as he rushes toward the men.

  “Remember, you work and live here. I don’t.”

  He realizes that I’m protecting his cover and he plays along.

  “I was just playing, fellas. I hope y’all have a great day and come to my hotel anytime and drinks will be on me,” Little Tiny says as he backs away.

  Vernon gets up and opens the door to the suite and motions with his gun for them to exit. They file out one by one and Brutus stares at me as he exits. We close the door behind them.

  “You know they gonna be back, right?” Vernon asks.

  I shake my head, having already thought of their options, “I don’t think so. Cattanno will want to get those badges back, because they can’t work without them.

  He’ll want to meet.”

  “Detective Johnson,” Little Tiny begins, “We’ll be having another agent help us on this case and she’ll be in contact with you in the morning. Her name is Epiphany Duvall. I heard she’s all that and then some.

  I’m heading back downstairs to keep watch for trouble.

  I’ll call up if anything goes down. Man, y’all need to straighten up this room. Housekeeping is gonna flip if they find this place torn up like this,” Little Tiny says, shaking his head. He holds ice up against his jaw as he exits the room.

  Vernon and I look at each other and start to tidy things up a bit. “I thought that’s what housekeepers got paid for. To straighten things up! Damn!” Vernon complains.

  “Watch your mouth, Vernon. We might get some 160

  Black Rain

  company and we don’t want to look like we’ve trashed the place.”

  “Y’all did trash the place! What are you talking about?” Vernon complains.

  “Dude, if you could start helping and stop bellyach-ing, we could be done very quickly.”

  “Whatever, dude,” Vernon says as he collects the guns and badges, unloads the guns and places them all in his briefcase.

  I pick up our bags and take them to the bedroom. A knock comes at the door. We both pull our guns and stand on either side of the door, ready to fire.

  “Who is it?” I ask.

  “Jehovah’s Witnesses!” a high-pitched voice answers.

  “Ice cream man!” another husky voice joins in.

  “It’s your wife’s baby’s daddy,” another voice shouts as a thunderous roar of laughter explodes from the hallway.

  “Open the damn door, fool!” someone shouts, knocking loudly again.

  We pull open the door and there stands our ex-pimp friend, Pretty Kevin, dressed in a spaghetti-red two-piece suit. With him are Mo-Mo and Sweet St. Louis Slim, who, not to be outdressed, has on a lime-green two-piece suit with matching Stacy Adams shoes.

  Vernon rolls his eyes, heads to the table and pulls
out the dominos.

  “What up, fools? Y’all almost got shot! Y’all play too much!” But I’m happy to see my friends.

  We give each other some dap and hug as we greet.

  Pretty Kevin stands there in his suit, flawless ebony-hued skin, wide-toothed grin and fly hair cut. “Joe, it’s good to see you and Vernon. We would have come in Vincent Alexandria

  161

  sooner, but we were listening to some old tapes of the only King of Comedy, Richard Pryor.You guys doing all right?”

  “Where were you guys when we were getting our asses kicked?” Vernon asks as he puts his cigar in his mouth.

  “We? I’m the one with the swollen jaw,” I remind him.

  “Well, hopefully that will keep your smack-talking down,” St. Louis Slim says, laughing.

  “I ought to slap you for wearing that lime-green suit in here, and where’d you find shoes to match?”

  St. Louis Slim brushes his sleeves and checks for wrinkles. “Don’t hate! Congratulate! The shoes are liz-ards and I get my grip from Harold Penner’s. You better ask somebody. And you know ain’t nobody bad like me. Remember that, because I make clothes like this look, oh, so very good,” he states as he strolls over to the domino table and sits by Vernon.

  “Joe, we been here at least twenty minutes,” Pretty Kevin says. “Agent Chase called me and said you were in trouble and are in a bad situation.” Chase, Pretty Kevin and I have been friends for a number of years.

  Chase knows who is loyal to me and who I would contact for backup. She’s smart like that, and those type of instincts will keep her alive. “She said that you were headed this way. She was worried about you and thought you might want some help. I called my boys and they said you just left. So we met up, and now we’re here to save the day. We got your back, man.”

  “Yeah, I can tell by all that laughter in the hallway.

  Did Chase say where she was?”

  “Naw, but we got a very good idea where she is.”

  Mo-Mo walks up and puts his arm around my shoulders. “Joe, we were sitting out in the parking lot when 162

  Black Rain

  these five guys came out arguing. They had bad news written all over them, so we got the license-plate number and called in a favor to a police friend, who ran the plate and we got the address of a house. We asked the sister at the front desk and she said it was on the edge of town. It’s a big-ass, expensive, fortress kind of a place with about four or five guards around the perimeter. We went over there and cased the joint with the night-vision goggles like the ones we gave you guys.